As a reminder, you can find MORE of this on my SubStar (dot adult slash KajaWilder), it's posted up past chapter 110 there... And if you guys haven't seen an update in at least a week, please let me know! I have a busy life, and I get distracted and forget things. This story(as well as ZpoW and PTaL) are supposed to be updated WEEKLY!
And if you're just interested in discussing things with other readers, of course, you can go to my DISCORD here: h- t_ t_ p-s -: -/ -/ -discord . g-g / N9yDA8t6Cw (taking out hyphens, underscores, and spaces of course).
NOTE: This chapter has some dark topics (character death and mentions of assault). Just be warned. Nothing too graphic though, believe it or not.
Also, the Vampiress' name is given at the end of the chapter. It's not mine, she's an OC created (presumably) by the person whose art I used on Sub Star and Pa Tree On. If you are said person, feel free to contact me for proper credit (I'd also take it down or change if if requested, though of course I'd rather not- it's a good name.)
Chap. 83: Daybreak
Luna smiled benignly at the six Professors currently in the Great Hall. Minerva McGonagall, Horace Slughorn, Bathsheda Babbling, Pomona Sprout, Septima Vector, and her own Head of House, Filius Flitwick, were talking in hushed tones around the center of the staff table, the only one that had not been transformed into a makeshift barricade. As a counterpoint, herself, and the four Slytherin girls that had been present when Harry had escorted them from his quarters to the Great Hall were still students... but even in young Astoria, she could see resolution and determination as much as fear.
Good. They would need that- she would need it.
Of all of the children, Luna Lovegood best knew what death was like. She had been able to see the Thestrals from her first year, after all. Some things were worth dying for.
Sometimes, on lonely occasions that seemed rarer and less lonely as time passed with her new and growing circle of friends, Luna wondered if her mother would still consider the pursuit of knowledge worth the cost she had paid for it. But this was no mere pursuit of knowledge they were fighting for. Not this time. The threat posed by Voldemort, his Death Eaters, and other servants was existential. Not just against them directly, but against all of Wizard-kind, and the entire magical world.
That was the threat Luna Lovegood saw. His fighting posed a danger to the locals of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland (and so on), yes. Even to the people of mainland Europe. But the real danger was that his escalating violence would push the Statute of Secrecy beyond the breaking point, and wizardkind would be annihilated or enslaved by the Muggles that so far outnumbered them.
Many people, she knew, saw Luna Lovegood and saw a Loon, or a girl who was focused on the unreal. Things fantastical, which no one else could see.
Luna Lovegood knew differently. No one but her and Harry, Hagrid included, had any idea there was an Alraune in the Forbidden Forest. Alra was able to hide herself from those unworthy, or those she considered dangerous. It was the nature of her kind. No one else had ever seen a Wrackspurt, the things Hermione claimed did not exist. But she had seen them.
By the same token, sometimes Luna wondered why or how people missed seeing the larger picture for the small details. The muggles had a saying about missing the forest for the trees, did they not? And wizards called muggles blind!
She saw the branching pathways of the future not as a seer, or prophetess, or anything of the sort.
Luna thought such things, by and large, were silly in a very Hermione-like way. Of course Divination was a proven branch of magic (if shaky and occasionally unreliable), but it was indeed real. Luna was not one of those people, no matter what they might say. She could not see the future, or divine it.
What Luna was, however,Was very good at reading patterns, and extrapolating their continuation.
One could even say she measured as a savant at such things.
Throughout History, especially the history of magicals, tyrants rose and fell. Empires with them, yes, but often at a slower pace. Voldemort was just one more tyrant, but with each cycle the tipping point between being able to stay hidden where they were safe, and being forced into death or slavery came closer.
Even if this time things stayed on the near side, she knew it would not be much longer. The patterns were clear. If not Voldemort, then his successor as Dark Lord, wherever they appeared in the world. There was too much technology on the muggle side of things, and too much ignorance of it (often deliberate) on the magical side. There was too much fanaticism.
Death Eaters might be a purely British phenomenon, but their ideology was, sadly, not.
And Luna knew there was a good reason: Wizards should fear muggles. That pattern had repeated itself throughout history. Whenever the two clashed, it was the magicals that lost. Every single time, without fail.
The statistics and numbers were just too concrete, and too stark a divide existed between them. Voldemort had to be stopped before the tipping point was reached, and that time was fast approaching from all she could read. Everything from tax rates to the local economy of a small town in Northumberland fed into her pattern recognition. Tea shops losing inventory to spoiling at a faster rate, because the tension between the Ministry of Magic and India's counterpart had slowed imports... it all mattered.
Everything pointed to the fact that the fulcrum was close.
This battle was not the deciding one, of course. The fulcrum was only close on a large scale, and this battle was a move on a chess board, not the game itself. But it was a move that inched them ever closer to the edge.
But she still smiled benignly, because she trusted the people around her, and trusted Harry.
She did not know Stubby Board- no, Sirius Black, she was supposed to call him this year, since he was undercover as a Defense Teacher, either way, she did not know him well, but she trusted him, too.
And of course the Lady of Dreams was helping out, and that was useful.
The teachers were planning to split up, check the castle in pairs. Confirm with the various Houses that the students were safe.
Luna's smile switched to a frown immediately as the plan was decided on, "Excuse me, Professors? Why don't you simply have the House Elves check the various Houses and then bring strays to where they should be? That would save a lot of time, and probably be safer."
Flitwick and McGonagall shared a look with each other while most of the rest stared at Luna, "Miss Lovegood, take fifty points for an excellent idea," McGonagalll pronounced after a moment, then called, "Dippy!"
Luna's smile returned. Sending the professors out to search the school would leave them vulnerable later, and that would increase the likelihood of Voldemort capturing the school within two years from twenty percent to ninety if two of them were killed. If only one was lost, which was a near certainty, the likelihood would still jump to seventy-three-point-nine-five-three percent, and that was just unacceptable.
No one should have to think about decimals in the thousands of points! It was just not necessary.
Oh, and the risk was bad too.
Even if nice, even numbers were much more fun to deal with.
On the other hand, if the House Elves, who could Apparate inside the school with ease, could count the students in secret and take them where they were supposed to be, it would serve multiple purposes. Those two things, of course, but also at least slowing the plans of any students (Malfoy's former friends, for example) who might be trying to do something during the crisis.
Yes, that was useful. As long as they didn't bother Harry or his friends, of course, but hopefully that very nice Elf named Dobby would set them straight if they tried. Yes, that seemed likely.
Yes, there were plenty of reasons to smile for Luna Lovegood, even if her friends were terrified.
Surely they would be alright, however. Some minor injuries would occur in the unlikely string of fate that would lead the attackers to the Great Hall, which was heavily fortified, and had been announced as such, by the Professors. But between the master spellweavers and the students present, not least of which was herself (after all, she had learned from the best in Harry), she felt they would be safe enough.
The smile faltered a bit as her mind turned to a different task once that had been settled on.
What was the goal?
Voldemort was many things, but a fool was not one of them.
Why was this attack occurring? What did he seek to accomplish? Why now?
Lines and threads were followed at a speed most supercomputers would be hard pressed to match, though some of the modern thinking machines might have come close.
Then her eyes snapped open and her head rose, "Professors, the main attack is a distraction. There has to be another enemy in the school. I don't know what they're after, but that's the real goal. Harry might be heading for a trap. And they will be at Hogsmeade too, to prevent reinforcements from the town or Aurors. Perhaps the gates."
This time, even the teachers who didn't know her well, like Vector, gasped as they understood the truth of her words.
McGonagall nodded, then turned to that teacher and Flitwick, "You two, take Burbage, and Hagrid- get down to the gates. Hold them, but let the citizens of Hogsmeade through. Clancy!"
When another House Elf appeared, she instructed the aged male quickly too, "Go with these Professors. If there are wounded that come to the gate, or one of the Professors are more than lightly injured, take them to the Hospital Wing and return. Bring another Elf with you if that is the case. And stay safe, that is an order."
"Yes, Headmistresses Mackie-Gee," the Elf murmured, then looked up at the ones she had indicated. He vanished into invisibility as the professors steeled themselves and started moving.
They had a castle to protect, after all, and perhaps a town to save.
Luna's smile was back, and she knew exactly why. Alra and the Centaurs, along with at least some of the Acromantula, would help protect the forest. With the Gates being watched, a direct assault in force at the castle would be foolish. Now she just had to wait for the next puzzle piece to fall into place, and she would hopefully know what they were after.
Harry himself, perhaps? Lyra? Hm. There was not yet enough information to prognosticate accurately. Not yet, anyway.
Another wall shattered as Nott's body hit it at speed. Unlike the last, this one fed into a classroom, so the spined, hulking brute was sent sprawling onto his side with limbs akimbo as white chalk and brick dust slowly settled around him, "Keep it up, Harry," Sirius crowed from his left, while Ginny worked to neutralize whatever poison or acid Nott had spat at Harry and ensure it did no lasting harm to Ron. Harry had dodged the initial spit-ball of black goo, but the follow-up spray would have caught him completely by surprise. Somehow, using reflexes built by playing Keeper Harry supposed, Ron had dove in front of the second volley, taking it on his back between small, misproportioned wings that otherwise resembled Lilith's own. He had screamed in pain, and Harry watched his best mate's face contort in agony from mere inches away, but Ron still stood firm, "Ow," the ginger growled, and for a moment Harry saw a dim fire within his eyes that was rarely present.
Ronald Bilius Weasley might be prone to anger, and was more so a few years previously, but rarely did he want an enemy dead. That was a thing Harry was more used to seeing in Death Eaters.
"Ron!" Ginny screamed, and rushed to his side. Dimly, Harry knew she had started calling his name first, but that she had cut it off when she'd seen what happened.
"Get him, Harry," Ron grunted, "I'm... gonna need a minute."
"Take all the time you need," Harry shot back, "You got him, Gin?"
"Yeah, go get him, Harry," the ginger girl said rapidly, her wand performing diagnostic and healing spells she must have seen her mother do a hundred times or more, given the speed she was casting at, "I'll take care of him, and Lilith if I can. Sirius has a broken arm."
Fortunately, his Godfather's injury was on his off-hand, which did little to impact his own casting speed. Together, Harry and the long-haired Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had bombarded Nott with one spell after another, alternating between Banishing Charms, to pelt him with large stones and bricks from the rubble he had created in the battle, to more directly offensive spells.
Most of those did very little, but some were starting to have an effect, if only minor.
He and Sirius kept up the pressure as Nott fought to his feet, ending in a low stance with one long-fingered, lizard-like hand wrapped around the shattered wall his body had just been thrown through, with his hand, the one Harry knew still held fragments of his old wand allowing him to still cast spells somehow, pointed forward. A shield much like Harry's own Protego barrier rippled into place in the air, nearly plugging the hole for a moment.
The shift in tactics, from relentless offense to protecting himself, made Harry pause, "What's he doing?"
"Don't know, don't care," Sirius shot back, "Keep casting. Target the walls around him. We'll have to spread out a bit."
"Got it," Harry replied, unintentionally shouting. He went left, Sirius went right, and the whole time he moved the younger wizard prayed silently in his head that Nott would not take the opportunity to go through the middle and attack Ginny, Ron, or Lilith. The Succubus was closer now from where the battle had moved somewhat down the hall, but she still lay prone on the floor, unmoving. He knew she was still alive, he could feel it in the bond, but that was still somehow diminished. Whatever the Vampiress had done to her, it was not good.
The Vampiress that was now running freely at lightning-like speed through the school.
A jet of black light that resembled a twisting whip of purest void blasted over Harry's shoulder from behind, and struck the center of the shield, which winked out of existence. A moment later, the void was gone, but a flare of fire wreathed in sparks of electrical energy like static followed it, and smashed into Nott head-on, "What manner of creature is this, Harry?" he heard Dumbledore's fatigued, but confident voice call.
"I think it's- it used to be Nott, Theodore Nott," Harry told him quickly, "He's got Nott's eyes and- he showed up with a Vampire. A woman, gray skin, fangs, all of that. She- she fought Lilith, and won. Drank a bit, and then took off- too fast for us to stop! Lilith-"
"Will be fine, Harry," Dumbledore told him softly, a gentle, wrinkled hand fell on his shoulder as the Headmaster reached him, "I am aware that she can heal using... certain things. She will need time, but she will be alright. What does and does not work against this opponent? Remember what I have taught you about analyzing a foe this term."
Harry swallowed, though it was hard, and realized- Nott was not moving. Whatever sparking flames Dumbledore had launched at him seemed to be holding the beast motionless, stretched as if he were being electrocuted, but he did not shake. His black eyes, even at a distance, burned with hatred but he didn't so much as twitch.
He forced himself to take a calming breath, while Sirius, his wand still covering the creature, risked a glance at Harry and Dumbledore, probably to ensure his Godson was still healthy and alive, "I... He's resistant to almost all direct attacks. He's being more affected now, like he's being worn out, but until recently- just the last few seconds- all we've done that really had any effect at all was throwing things at him, or attacking indirectly. Rubble can scratch and pierce, but he heals so quickly it's almost like his blood is a healing potion or some such. Magic mostly bounces off of him. He can spit black tar, but it burns like acid. Ron's hurt-"
"And is being attended to by the young Miss Weasley. Focus, Harry."
He wanted to glare at the old man, but...
But he knew he was right. He had to believe in his friends. He did believe in them. He trusted them to take care of themselves, and each other. The problem had to be dealt with before it hurt anyone else. Then he could afford to worry about them. And for that...
"The vampire was hit several times too, by Lilith's fireballs, her claws, and her whip, but nothing seemed to stop her, either. Lilith held her off for a good while, about a minute, but even then it was clear from the s- from the start that she was overpowered. Once the Vampire got a good bite in, she just collapsed, and hasn't moved since. She only drank for a moment, but my bond with her is weaker. Like she's weaker."
"Hm," Dumbledore said, keeping his own wand steady on Nott while he looked between and behind them at the Succubus, "There is indeed still a bond between you. I can sense it, but I think I see what you mean. There are old legends and tales... if the Vampire has indeed consumed a Succubus' blood, then she may be the greatest foe of them all right now. Thankfully, once that blood's power is expended, she will, or should, return to the normal strength for a vampire of her age and power, whatever that is. I do not think Voldemort would send one of the strongest... but I also do not think he would diminish his chances of success by sending a fledgeling. Do you, Harry?"
"No. No, that's not like him at all. He'll do whatever it takes to win, but he doesn't like to waste resources, either."
Dumbledore nodded. Sirius scowled, "Not that I'm not enjoying the discussion, it's quite enlightening, but what, exactly, are we going to do about it?"
"Well, I think Mr. Nott- if that is indeed him, as you say, Harry," Dumbledore said with a slight cock to his head, "will be free of that spell in approximately... thirty more seconds. Until then, I suggest we use the time to take him out of the equation. Resistant to spells, but indirect attacks have some effect? So be it."
Harry was shocked as the old wizard, limping on his poorly-attached and still untrained magical prosthetic, stepped forward and over the shattered wall until he stood directly in front of Nott, who was still motionless. Then Dumbledore looked up at the beast, and nodded, "They do indeed resemble the eyes of Mr. Nott's father... I understand. And I think I have a solution. Let us pray that it works. Portus. Portus. Portus. Portus. Portus. Portus."
The wizard kept casting for about five more seconds, until eleven or twelve pebbles and pieces of rubble were glowing bright blue. Then he stepped back, and raised his wand. Silently, every rock rose into the air, and then slapped into Nott's tough, gravel-gray hide, "Apiosempra," he incanted at last. Then he turned back to Nott's face, "Goodbye. I am sorry I had to do this, but I see little other option given the tactic used. It is a pity you saw no other way yourself. Goodbye, Mr. Nott. I do not expect I will see you again."
At the last word, the first pebble flashed blue, and in a blur of multicolored light, Nott was gone.
Dumbledore sagged only briefly as he turned a watery, misty look to Harry, "I believe that is the last we will ever see of him. I am... It is not, sadly, the first time I have killed, but... I will not stand by and let Voldemort's followers attack my students in my own school. I am with you, Harry. Lead the way."
Walden MacNair was not having a particularly good day. It should have been a good day, by all rights. It was supposed to be a simple raid, kidnap some whores to shag for a while then toss away like dead meat to the lower ranks. Kill some folks. Put up the Dark Mark, and go home. Simple, effective, and a plan that rarely, if ever, went awry. He knew they were just a distraction. That was fine, he was good at being distracting.
It had started, he thought, with that first flash of blinding pain in his Dark Mark, brief though it had been. There had been some initial successes as they started the attack on Hogsmeade, with the intention of causing havoc and then making their way up to the castle as if they were going to start a full-on assault. Even he didn't think they would necessarily fall for that part, because only a fool- and like it or not Dumbledore was not a fool, no matter what they all called him publicly- would attack that place with a measly twenty-seven men and women, no matter how pure their blood.
He'd even gotten to use one of the kidnapped whores, and had felt the day was going swimmingly when it all went wrong a scant few minutes after he'd finished.
Anti-Apparition wards had gone up all around them, followed almost at once by some new magic that had prevented their Portkeys from activating.
Someone had shouted, "Aurors!" and then... well, things went south.
It wasn't just a few Aurors who might've gotten the jump on them and kept the Death Eaters from running. Not that MacNair thought that was likely at the time.
It was a full combat team. Thirty men, three more than he had, plus a few more support staff. Fucking Mad-Eye Moody was there! What were his men supposed to do? Of course, he'd ordered them to fight.
And fight they did! He was almost proud of the vicious firefight that had occurred, since the Aurors were hampered by a need to protect the victims, while his men and women had no such care.
He, being the kind of man he was, had quietly slipped away in the fracas. He was a big man, skilled at spellcasting, and a terror on the battlefield... to most people.
In his heart of hearts, Walden MacNair had always been a coward, and did not like facing that. So he had slipped away to let his men be captured or killed by the superior force that had surprise on them. He could spin it to his Master that he had narrowly escaped at the last moment. He would be alright, even if the distraction had not lasted nearly as long as it was supposed to.
How did the Aurors even know they were there? His team had only been in Hogsmeade for five minutes!
He was brought up short as he slinked through the edges of the forest on the west side of the village by a familiar face. A vampire, one that had cut a deal with his Lord six- or nine?- months earlier, "You," the wench hissed, her eyes shining with an unholy violet light, "I need you and your Mark. Come."
Then her hand had closed around his neck, and they were moving. Moving faster than he could follow all but the grossest of terrain features.
The forest, distant mountains, more trees, the castle. At least, he thought it was the castle. His arm suddenly burned as they passed some invisible, blurred line, anyway, and didn't stop as they entered the halls of wherever they were.
Oh. They were there.
He knew that tapestry! It had been described as the landmark for retreat to the first group, the one Malfoy's hateful spawn had led to their deaths.
"Inside," the Vampiress hissed, and threw him bodily through a door. He hit the ground hard, rolled twice, and then she was there again.
This time, he was hoisted by his belt in a single hand, and she hauled his huge form like an unruly child by the belt of his robes until they reached an ugly, silvery, tarnished crown, "Pick that up, remove it from the bust, and set it down."
"Wha- What? You don't command me, bitch," MacNair tried to bluster as he stood up to his full height. Who was this creature to command him?
Then his will crumbled like paper as she looked into his eyes, "You are mine to command indeed, Walden MacNair. Coward. Fool. Pick up the Master's heirloom and set it on the floor, my pet."
"Yes, Mistress," he murmured.
They were the last words he spoke. Three seconds after the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw lifted off the bust it rested on, his Dark Mark, reacting with Voldemort's soul shard inside, ripped his own soul from his body.
The vampire smiled down at the empty husk, and bent to retrieve the object she had been sent for, "Well done, bait. Now, you should be safe after that effect was discharged, and the creature's blood should allow me to do this at least once..."
She twisted and whirled into violet and black smoke, stepping into a twilight realm few Vampires had ever reached before.
As it turned out, she had consumed Succubus blood twice previously in her life, both times willingly. She had some experience with the abilities of Shadow Step. It was why she, older than Harry or Dumbledore could ever have expected, was the one selected for this mission.
She appeared in a certain mansion in Wiltshire a few moments later in the same burst of smoke and light, a certain crown held tightly in one gray hand, "For the Master," she murmured to the Lady of the House, the whore of all Death Eaters, Narcissa Malfoy, "Give it only to him, or suffer his personal wrath," the Vampiress said, her blood singing in delicious agony.
For a vampire, every moment in which a Succubus' blood ran through their veins was the most delicious torture. Like most magical creatures, Vampires gained a semblance of their power after drinking from them, until that power was spent. But a Succubus' power was intrinsically tied with lust and passion, two things Vampires often already had in abundance. It made them want more. Ever more, until the power was gone. It was addicting.
That same blood sang in her veins, as Narcissa Malfoy, nude and covered in drying bodily fluids as she always was these days, moved down into the basement to where her master was now sequestered after... whatever had happened to him that morning.
It was that blood which prevented the vampire from noticing what else was happening. She was too lost in the pleasure of it. She turned to the nearest other person, a young man, "You. I am Kalakay Dubois. I am your new mistress. Please me."
The young man in black robes knelt, and the room exploded in the literal fire of the world's nearest star as the creature with which she shared a soul-bond was Portkeyed into the surface of the sun.