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Harry Potter And The Game of Death
Level 1
Chapter Thirty-Nine: Tragedy
Harry pointed his wand at the pair and whispered 'Observe.'
Ding!
Death Eater
?
Target's Level is Too High
Harry cursed under his breath when he read the Game's message.
Meanwhile, a nervous sound built up in the stadium crowd. It seemed that Fudge and most everyone else had also noticed the two men and recognized the outfits. The Minster's voice trickled off mid-speech as several of the Aurors located on the edge of the platform moved to head off the two men.
"Halt!" One of them yelled. "You have entered a restricted area. Drop your wands and lie face down on the ground immediately!"
Neither of the Death Eaters paused in the slightest.
His order ignored, the Auror raised his wand and took aim. A stunner burst forth, its reddish-orange light flashing into life as it darted towards the Death Eaters.
The spell fizzled out before it even got close.
After a moment of stunned silence, unable to believe their eyes, every advancing Auror began to cast; a group of six launched a barrage of spells at the two Dark wizards in a kaleidoscope of magical blasts and shouted words, whilst three more began to summon obstructions between the two men and the platform. High walls of stone, curtains of raging water, and even a steel golem bearing a sword and shield sprang into being to halt their advance.
It was to no avail.
Each spell fired suffered the same strange fate as the very first stunner. Nothing, no matter how flashy or potent, was able to breach the invisible shield which surrounded the two Death Eaters. While the walls and shimmering shields summoned to defend the platform collapsed in flashes of magic once the Death Eaters drew close.
Eventually several of the Aurors, convinced their magic was useless, sought to try and bull rush the two men. But it had as much effect as their spells, for they ended up being flung back by an unseen force before they could get close.
Watching it all play out from his spot atop the raised platform, Harry felt time slow down. He had seen everything happen in crystal clarity. Now, every instinct in his body was telling him that something awful was coming, and that the adults who should have been able to handle it – the Minister, the Aurors, and everyone else in charge – would prove unfit for the task.
Which meant it would be up to Harry and his companions to figure out how to protect everyone they could.
Hoping that Hermione and the others figured things out on their end quickly, Harry's mind raced as he took stock of the situation. Looking around, he saw that no one was paying any attention to him. They were all too busy freaking out and beginning to panic. Which provided an opportunity for Harry to take action.
With a quick whisper, he brought up the Game's message function and sent a short note to everyone in his 'Party' informing them of the situation. Then he opened his 'Inventory' and reached inside, taking out several of the items given to him by Moody and Dumbledore earlier in the summer; two vials of Polyjuice, a flash grenade, a portkey to Hogwarts, and the portable defensive ward disguised as a jawbreaker.
Harry secreted them around his person and closed the 'Inventory' before anyone could notice its silvery glow. When he looked back up to see if anything had changed, Harry saw the two men had finally halted their approach.
Standing a scant distance away from the champion's platform, one of the men turned to face the crowd directly. He raised one arm high to draw everyone's attention while his voice cackled with maniacal glee, amplified to carry throughout the stadium and distorted by spells to disguise his true identity.
"Magical folk of the world!" he cried out, his tone a twisted, cruel parody of the grandiose use of Sonorus. "Mixed Bloods and Purebloods alike, hear me! For tonight, I come bearing glad tidings of joy. The day when we throw off the despicable chains placed upon us by our foolish forebearers and those jealous of their strength shall soon be upon us!"
Murmurs shot through the crowd at the words. Soon, an undercurrent of worry filled the stadium as people began to figure out that the scene was not part of the performance. A few directed screams of rage and angry gestures at the two.
Others stood from their seats and moved for the exits, clearly afraid of what might soon come.
A dark chuckle left the Death Eater's throat as he took in the crowd's varied reactions. "I see that not all of you receive my words with gratitude. But that, too, is acceptable; the road to paradise is not for the weak of spirit. Oh no. It is paved with the blood and bones of the unworthy. So be you friend or foe, know this! I am but a lowly servant of He who has set the stage for tonight's grand performance. And though you will all be a part of what is to come, the events of tonight are a message to one person in particular."
Harry's blood ran cold. Because while many might eventually understand it as referring to Dumbledore, Voldemort's old foe and greatest threat in the last war, or perhaps even Fudge, the Minister… Harry knew otherwise.
This was directed at him.
Laughing, his voice twisted by hate and malice, the man turned his head upwards and raised both his arms upward as if in supplication. Beside him, his silent comrade raised their wand and let loose an emerald spell into the sky above.
Seconds passed with nothing happening. Then an emerald flash lit the sky like a magical firework. And from its blooming haze, a shape began to appear.
A ghastly green skull, its form riven with chips and cracks as though taken fresh from the soil, took shape high above the stadium.
Screams of terror rang out as the ghostly apparition opened its bony jaws wide. The body of a snake slithered out, its glimmering, sinuous body taking the place of a tongue that leered at the crowd below in a vile parody of life.
Lowering his arms and facing the podium once more as the crowd panicked at the sight of the skull, the Death Eater's voice dripped with venom as he spoke with terrible glee as screams and yells of fright tore through the night air. "Let the coming storm of blood sear itself into your mind, oh unworthy foe, as the pathetic masses which surround us are trampled like the vermin they are. And know that the advent of the world's greatest wizard, He who shall take your life and rule the world forevermore, our Dark Lord Voldemort, has begun!"
As the words echoed throughout the stadium, panicked wizards and witches streamed for the exits in droves.
The ghastly skull that was the calling card of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, the Dark Mark, had not been seen in over a decade. Seeing it again had driven the mainly British crowd crazy with fear.
Fights began to break out amongst the panicked crowd. Mostly limited to shouts and shoving at first, flashes of magic could be seen here and there with increasing frequency.
In their panic, many failed to notice the warning signs which began to surround them.
First came a low hum. It spread throughout the stadium, slowly, only audible to those few sensitive to the flow of magic.
Next came a cavalcade of ghostly lights. Fanning throughout the stadium and the grounds outside, they glowed an ethereal, poisonous green. Any wizard or witch unlucky to be near one as it winked into existence instinctively flinched away.
Once the hum reached a crescendo audible to all and the lights began to shine bright enough to blind, then and only then did the night's true terror reveal itself.
Screams rang out from all over as those nearest to the lights were cut down. Realizing that their fellows were dying and not yet knowing why, the crowd began to spasm. Within the stadium proper, masses of people clumped around the exits, desperately others in their haste to leave.
For the ghostly lights were not merely for show. They were portals. And through these portals came a horde of Dark creatures eager to reap the lives of any magic user who stood before them.
Gargoyles howled in joy as they flew through the night sky and dove upon the massed magical folk. Giants roared as they lumbered across the grounds outside the stadium, reducing humans to paste with every swing of their massive hands. Fearsome hounds, aflame with magic, bayed and howled, running in packs as they herded prey into corners or dragged those they seized into the middle of the pack for feeding.
Hundreds more creatures followed: swarms of Acromantula, bounding upon eight legs as they pursued bands of screaming people; flocks of six-eyed crows with mutated legs, who swooped overhead and lashed out with razor sharp beaks; toads the size of horses which glowed an eerie blue and spat crackling bolts of lightning; small Erklings who screeched and screamed spreading chaos wherever they went; and massive centipedes, whose giant bodies slithered along the ground as poison dripped from their glistening mandibles.
Each of these creatures were known to the magical community. All were usually kept far away from most of humanity. Either locked behind layer upon layer of spells to keep them under control, or placed in isolated areas where they could pose no threat to wizardkind.
Yet tonight those spells had been broken; every chain which bound them had been released; and the control that wizardkind so prided itself on… had slipped.
With disastrous consequences. For those who had been imprisoned bore no love for their captors.
Back on the pitch, Harry watched a pair of Aurors jump onto the platform and race to Minister Fudge. The middle-aged man had gone pale with fear and was spluttering incoherently, but still had enough presence of mind to grab hold of something one of the Aurors stuffed into the Minister's hand.
An expression of pure relief came over Fudge's face when the man realized that it was probably an emergency portkey.
But the expression was short lived.
"No… no… why isn't it working?" Minister Fudge whispered in horror. He shook the bag and rubbed it furiously, as though doing so would somehow cause the portkey to activate. "Hell and damnation, work already! I can't be allowed to die here! I'm too important!"
Upon seeing the portkey fail to activate, one of the Aurors, a shaggy maned man, grabbed hold of the Minister. Speaking strange, archaic sounding words, the man cut his left arm open with a flick of his wand and dripped fresh drawn blood upon himself and the Minister.
There came a blinding flash accompanied by a sickening, stomach churning thrum of magic.
When it ended both men were gone. Only a slight haze of red mist was left where they had stood, as though the Auror's blood still lingered within the air.
An angry hiss escaped one of the Death Eaters when it happened. The masked figure quickly disappeared with a loud crack that his companion soon emulated. And as if their departure had been a signal, the horde of creatures terrorizing the rest of the stadium fell upon the Harry's position.
"Observe!"
Spawn of Yatagarasu
Level 76
Ding!
Hell Hound
Level 97
Ding!
Erkling
Level 23
Ding!
Acromantula
Level 100
Ding!
Chimaera
?
Ding!
Manticore
?
Ding!
Dark Portal
?
Firing off rapid 'Observes' to gain information and casting offensive spells as fast as he could to slow down the onrushing monstrous creatures, Harry's mind blazed with fury.
Things were bad. Really bad. Given that everyone around Harry was still panicking and barely managing to fight back, his earlier feeling that it would be up to him to salvage the situation had come to pass.
First, he needed to leave the pitch. It was too exposed and right in the centre of the unfolding chaos.
But how to go about escaping was the question. Harry watched as two Ministry wizards who had been circling the stadium on brooms were torn apart by a flock of the three-eyed crows, wincing at their horrified screams. Higher above, a Manticore bit off the head of the witch who had fetched the English team at the conclusion of the match, blood and viscera raining down on the crowd below.
Flying out on brooms was clearly suicide.
How, then, could he escape? The walls surrounding the Pitch were rather high and hard to scale. Given that the stands and field were quickly getting covered by hordes of attacking creatures, trying to climb the walls was probably no safer than flying on a broom. And with no normal form of magical transportation working – Portkeys were clearly out, while Apparating was probably out as well – that meant most ways to leave could be ruled out entirely.
So far as Harry could tell, that left one option open to him: getting to the stadium's tunnels through one of the entrances on the pitch and making it out of the stadium on foot. It would be dangerous, what with the narrow confines of the stone corridors. But Harry and any who followed him would at least be safe from aerial attacks and not have to worry about being attacked from every side like they were right now.
A quick glance at the English team's entrance showed a few creatures nearby… with none leaving the mouth. Good! But to reach the tunnel through the crowd of creatures without being overwhelmed, Harry would need help.
Which meant it was time for Harry to use his Boy-Who-Lived title and all that charisma the Game of Death said he possessed to his advantage.
Running across the platform's edge, dodging the incoming strikes of the flying creatures and sending spells in reply, Harry looked for someone who could help. After several seconds, he spotted Captain Bronwen, ran over to the woman, and swung her around to face him.
"Captain! We're not going to last long if we stay here," Harry yelled over the din as loudly as he could, forcing a ring of authority into his voice to grab hold of the large woman's attention. "We need to get out on our own, and we've got to do it fast. Can I count on you and the others to follow me?"
"What?"
Her mouth gaping, the usually stolid woman stared at him in clear disbelief.
Sod it all. Growling, Harry reached up and used his gauntleted hand to whack the captain on her Quidditch helmet.
Hard.
That seemed to do the trick. The look of shock vanished from Bronwen's face. And though it was replaced by anger, her eyes appeared to be focused and sharp. "Captain, I need you to gather the rest of the team and whomever else you can. I've got a plan to get us out of here, but for it to work we need to leave as a group. Now!"
As Harry spoke, a trio of Ministry magic users engaging what appeared to be a Manticore were torn apart by the beast. The massive creature tore off one of their heads with its snake-like tail and crushed the next two into pulp with its massive paws. It then lunged at the next nearest pair of defenders, a set of fancily dressed wizards, and tore them apart, too.
That let loose the floodgates as the already thin line of protection around the platform collapsed.
Cursing, Harry blasted a trio of onrushing birds from the sky with pinpoint Diffindos before pointing his wand at the dirt in front of the podium and screaming out Deprimo Maxima. The location was swallowed by a giant hole in the ground which broke up the first wave of attackers and slowed the next, buying precious time for the remaining magic users to get their acts together.
One of whom, thankfully, was Captain Bronwen.
"Squad! Grab the person closest to you and get ready to follow Potter," the bluff faced woman yelled. She matched actions to words and grabbed hold of a skinny looking Ministry wizard and the well-dressed witch hanging off his arm. "We're tailing the boy and fighting our way out. Now move it!"
The captain's booming roar cut through the din of battle in a way that Harry's much younger voice simply could not. Hearing it jolted the members of the Quidditch team to action, and in short order the other players had followed the captain's suggestion. Others soon followed, desperately latching onto the sense of organization and purpose Harry's name had given the group.
Even a certain pale-faced ponce and his father formed up, wands flashing with spell-light as they tore into the creatures attempting to reach the platform. Which was strange, but fine, as at this point, any wand not pointed at Harry was a wand he could use.
With his instincts shouting there was no time left to spare, Harry looked at the hastily assembled group and grabbed hold of a shaking Cho. He then pointed in the direction of the team's tunnel and started to yell. "Whatever you do, don't stop moving until you reach the English team's tunnel. Now, follow me! Bombarda Maxima!"
Harry pumped as much magic as he could into the spell. The explosive result rippled out in front of him, tearing apart everything in its path.
Torn limbs and shattered earth rained down as Harry ran in. He did his best to ignore the hot liquid which spattered across his face and chest, holding his wand forward and blindly casting spell after spell in front of him.
A double headed snake reared up as he ran past a person's smouldering corpse, its fangs dripping with poison. A quick Incendio reduced its heads to ash, but Harry could hear Cho scream when a second one appeared and tried to bite her.
The girl yanked back on her hand as if to pull away.
But that only caused Harry to tighten his grip and pull her forward. A snapped Protego from his wand blocked the creature's lunge while a spell from someone else's wand sent the snake flying out of sight.
This process repeated itself for what felt like an eternity. And by the time the tunnel's entrance was in arm's reach, Harry could feel his lungs burning from exertion. Giving the entrance a quick glance and failing to spot any creatures hiding within, Harry pushed his body to sprint the rest of the way.
Once inside, he let go of Cho's hand, shoved her deeper within, and yelled out, "Check and see if there's anything inside! I'll hold the door until everyone else arrives."
"H-h-harry, I, I…"
"Not now, Cho!" Harry growled harshly. He ripped his shirt away from where she had grasped it and turned around just in time to blast one of the crow creatures in the face with a Banishing Charm, saving the wizard it had latched onto. "Do it, or we could all die."
A part of Harry hurt to yell at her like that. The girl was clearly out of her depth and most probably in shock. But right now, Harry did not have the luxury to take care of her feelings.
After a second of hesitation, he felt Cho leave his side and venture deeper into the tunnel.
With that, Harry returned his focus back to the chaotic melee. His wand spat spell after spell as he sought to protect those following. Dozens of people, some bleeding, some untouched, streamed past him in a desperate rush.
It felt like hours, but eventually everyone he could see made into the tunnel.
Harry cast a Protego to keep the mass of creatures back as he retreated into the tunnel's depths. Then, just when his shield was about to be broken, Harry ended the spell and pointed his wand at the ceiling. "Deprimo Maxima!"
A/N: Sorry for the short chapter. But the action is only just beginning, and the next few chapters are quite long ^-^. See ya in a month!
Stay Safe and Healthy,
~Elsil