Hello!
I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. It is set during Deathly Hallows, right after Harry, Ron and Hermione go to the ministry to retrieve the locket.
As always, English is not my mothertongue, and I have no beta, so any mistake is my own. If you spot one and tell me, I'll correct it.
I'm open for suggestions for futur chapters, so feel free to share if you have an idea.
Have a nice read!
Just an other Tuesday
It happened a Tuesday. The Tuesday after Harry Potter and his friends disappeared in the wilderness. Yaxley tried to enter Grimmauld Place. Technically, he entered.
What Harry Potter didn't know, was that there were contingencies in case someone tried to trespass the house, contingencies put in place by a paranoid Black ancestor more than a century ago. No one not invited by the Master of the house should enter it without repercussions.
If Harry Potter had bothered to learn about the Blacks, and everything he inherited when Sirius Black died, he would have found out why this House was feared beyond Britain's borders. They were… nuts.
That Grimmauld Place had protections was a given. It was a quite recent mansion, recent by wizarding standard that it. Some Pureblood families lived in the same location for more than five-hundred years, after all. Grimmauld Place wasn't that old, so their owner had to be more creative. Of course, they had wards that rivalled, and exceeded, most places of importance in Britain. They were nasty buggers, and the Dark Lord himself would have a hard time taking them down with a team of curse breakers.
But would you really expect that they would have stopped at that? What, are you a flobberworm? We are talking about the most influencial family in Europe, one that resisted time and shaped the world. It had only been taken down when their members started to actually be cannon folder in three different successive wars. Their numbers dwindled, and they never recouped. A shame that inbreeding and poor choices fell them more easily than any schemes their enemy ever made.
Kreacher, as the last elf of the family, knew about those contingencies. Naturally, when the intruder opened the front door, he activated them. Harry Potter had asked him to protect himself to the best of his abilities. And, as curious as it might seem, he quite didn't fancy being brought out to Lord Voldemort to be tortured for information, or for the simple fun of it either.
So, the Black contingencies awoke.
Yaxley had only the chance to make a gesture to his Death Eaters friends in the street before he was yanked into the house. They never saw him again, but it wasn't much time before they never saw anything again either.
The contingencies never even went to level four before everything was over. Maybe it says something about the pathetic state of the wizarding world when the present Dark Lord doesn't even rate level four of the Grimmauld Place protective (and offensive) measures.
Yes, yes, I know, I will have to tell you what those contingencies actually are. It is somewhat cruel of me to tease them endlessly, but you'll see that the wait wasn't worth it.
First, you need to know that this Black ancestor, let's name him Jeff for some obscure reason. Well, Jeff, besides being beyond clinically paranoid, was an absolute bastard. He didn't think in defeating your enemy. He believed in exterminating them before they could become a threat. He died killing himself so he couldn't give the secret of his contingencies to anyone, thus assuring that he was safe until his last breath. He, however, didn't think about his elf who witnessed everything he did, and passed on the knowledge to her brethren.
Yes, Jeff's brain might have been addled by his numerous experimentations and dwellings in things best left alone.
Well, let's get back to when Yaxley was yanked into the house. Kreacher was in his lair, where he was supposed to stay for ten days once the FTE was activated.
Yes, Jeff named the contingencies FTE.
Yaxley didn't see it coming, but he surely felt it. The slimy things digging in his arms, the blood pouring from his nose and ears and eyes and everywhere, the stings all over his body. He died silently, on the spot, his blood tinting his skin and cloths along a vibrant neon yellow substance. He heard the deep growls, and the buzz of millions tiny little insect around him. Oh, and the smell, the smell was terrible. Any other time, the stench would have made him empty his stomach in an instant. But that Tuesday, he didn't have the time.
No, he died too quickly.
And then the insects left the house. They looked like tiny bees, if bees were red and black. Not a bright red, no, more like dried blood red. They swarmed the waiting Death Eaters standing in the square. In less than three seconds, all of them were bleeding out of all their orifices, and places where there weren't supposed to be orifices. No more than three seconds later, they were dead, their hearts stopping from lack of anything to pump. A low growl resonated into the square, so loud that all the surrounding windows vibrated, and some cars started to scream their annoying alarms. That didn't please the beasts warning the world about their might, and the enemies of their master that they were about to start the hunt. They fed on the corpses and soon enough nothing was left but pieces of tattered cloth.
Jeff was convinced that the best defence was offence. The beasts, that he called Cuddles, were of his own creation. They were seven, hunted in pack, and loved to feast on the flesh of their enemies. They could eat anything alive, and almost anything magical. Anything they ate, they absorbed it to get stronger. A Cuddle looked like if a dire-wolf had a threesome with an octopus and a bunny. Its body was roughly the one of an enormous wolf, rivalling a horse in size. It was white as snow, with angora fur, and huge rabbit-like ears. It had no tail, but seven tentacles whipping the air furiously. The claws on its paws were fierce and perfectly lethal, as the teeth adorning its mouth. Those were all blood red, as its eyes and tentacles. It was a sight. A frightening one. They howled at the stars, not visible because it was still the middle of the day, and charged, the swarms of Bloobees hiding in their fluffy fur.
The Bloobees, as you rightly guessed, had a very potent venom that made their victims bleed out. It was only efficient with living things that had blood, but an efficient offensive defence when used well. Jeff, with all his faults, knew how to kill efficiently.
Remember that that madman believed in exterminating your enemies before they could become a threat? Harry Potter was the Head of House Black now, and he certainly had enemies who were a threat. The contingencies had been activated, and they would not stop until that threat was dealt with.
The Cuddles remembered the smell of the wizards they devoured. Their bodily smell, and their magical scent. They also all had one smell in common: the Dark Mark, Voldemort's magical signature. Those were the enemies, those would cease to exist. Everything wearing those scent would perish, as everything associated with them. The track began.
Kreacher stayed ten days in his den, as instructed, and then resumed his daily routines. He might have been the only being that could explain what unfolded in that span of time.
All the rest of the world knew, was that a huge part of the most prominent citizens of magical Great Britain bled out in their homes, or simply disappeared. Some of them were seen attacked by horrific beasts in broad daylight, and devoured on the spot until Aurors arrived. The minute any government official showed up on the scene, they flew. Literally. Their tentacles tails, and ears, rotated at a speed sufficient to make them fly like monstrous helicopters.
Shopkeepers, children, muggles, squibs, judges, ministry employees, law enforcement workers, people from all standing found the same fate. This vengeance was relentless, ruthless, total. The fear of the Cuddles soon superseded the one Voldemort managed to instil in the heart of the wizarding population. It seemed random, it was unavoidable. More Pureblood were victims, but it wasn't a sure thing. They even attacked other creatures, such as werewolves, vampires, giants, snakes…
Only the beasts knew the common denominator: they were Voldemort's servants, bearing his scent, their families, close friends, lovers… Entire bloodlines were whipped out, in the span of ten days. The greatest extermination Earth ever saw. The most efficient too.
Even goblins weren't immune. The morning of the tenth day, the Cuddles showed up at Gringotts and howled furiously, flying in between the vaults at a dizzying pace. They attacked the Lestrange Vault doors, but it resisted. The Goblins, of course, defended their bank. They managed to kill four Cuddles, at great loss, before the remaining beasts retreated, the vault unviolated. More than half of the Goblins had died in the assault, stung by Bloobees.
The twelfth day after the FTE had been activated, the Cuddles and Bloobees came back with new allies: the Suckers and the Ramons. A Sucker, as anyone could guess, looked like a suction cup. They were seven, in different sizes, from two inches to seven feet in diameter. Stuck to the backs of the three surviving Cuddles, they were an interesting sight. A Ramon was, as simply put, a magical drill. It was cone shaped, and as their counterpart were numbered seven, from two inches to seven feet in diameter. The Suckers were midnight blue, the Ramons soft pink.
If Jeff had been less on the mad side, he could have become the greatest curse breaker ever known. His Ramons could pierce anything imbued with magic, and his Suckers could absorb any magic from an object. Their only limit was that they were one use only. But when you knew how to build them, it wouldn't be such a hardship, would it?
Anyway, Ramons, Suckers, Bloobees and Cuddles penetrated the halls of Gringotts and went straight into the caverns to the Lestrange Vault. Without preamble, the biggest Ramon plunged into the door vault, and did its office valiantly before dying, about half-way through. It fell on the floor, floppy and useless. Another took its place and finished the job properly, before joining it, its power slowly draining until nothing was left. One Sucker entered the vault, guided by a Cuddle's tentacle and locked on some cup that hold Voldemort's magical sent. Once the Sucker was sunrise orange, marking the completion of the magic drain, the tentacle retreated, taking the Sucker with it.
And the Goblins? They were drooling on the floor, under the Bloobees assaults. Once roughly one quarter of the defenders were dead, the other made a tactical retreat.
Yes, some things were breaking into one of their vaults.
Yes, they were letting them. The Lestrange were dead anyway, murdered by the same things they were battling. The Goblins were survivors, not stupid. (Well, not that stupid.)
The whole operation didn't last for more than an hour, before the Cuddles and their mounts left the premises.
The bank was closed for three days, and life went on. The Goblins didn't understand why those things went to the trouble to barge in, enter a vault, to steal… nothing. They didn't take a damn thing!
On the fifteenth day, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley had the biggest fright of their life when level one (Bloobees and Cuddles) and level two (Ramons and Suckers) contingencies barged in their camp. Ron sadly died, when a Cuddle jumped him. He had the Locket in his hands, and the beast, made to kill, ended his life before gobbling him whole. Harry, before he could do something moronic like punching the Cuddle, found a plunger stuck to his face. More exactly, his forehead.
The only thing that saved his life that day, was that he was the only thing the FTE was made for: protecting the Head of House. Hopefully, Hermione hadn't manipulated the Horcrux too much, so its scent wasn't on her.
The FTE, once activated, couldn't be reversed, hindered, delayed. It was a final recourse, and final it was, until total destruction of either the threat or the 37 contingencies. It would not stop, short of blowing up the planet, because doing such would kill the Lord of the House, and that was contrary to their mission (protect him, of course).
Once Lord Black was free of Voldemort's soul piece, which died once magicless, the Sucker fell, inert. All horcruxes were gone, thanks to the Suckers, so the last remnant of Voldemort floating around once his body unbloodied, vanished into death.
Kreacher popped next to his master. He was, apparently, level 3 of the contingency. He had in his hand a brownie, that Harry ate with gusto. It contained all the knowledge about the contingencies, and Harry's eyes rolled over multiple time when he swallowed, imprinting all this knowledge into his brain.
Actually, it was the level one but until the Cuddles found Harry, Kreacher couldn't locate him and make him eat the brownie. Which made Cuddles and Bloobees level two, and… well, you get the gist.
Then, Harry apparated to the Ministry, while the Cuddles continued the hunt on the continent. He took Hermione with him, so used to have her at his side. In the Atrium, after the disgusting trip through the toilets, he kissed her. The brownie told him he could share his knowledge with one person, by kissing. It didn't occur to him that a peck on the cheek was also called kissing. She was too shocked by the recent events to do anything about this, but it didn't matter. Her eyes still rolled over, as her brain overloaded.
"Oh." She said once it was done.
Harry took her hand, and went straight to the Auror's den. In all the commotion, he forgot that he was still the Undesirable n°1, and Voldemort's defeat and all the chaos associated was too recent that his statute had changed.
The Ministry was in disarray, after losing so many members. Between the one thrown out by the Death Eaters and their policies, and the sudden death and disappearing of the persecutors, it was a mess.
Some Aurors remained in their headquarters though, enough to put handcuffs on Harry and Hermione. They, however, weren't put in cells. Those Aurors knew they weren't criminals, and while they were sworn to uphold the law, they were ready to give them an opportunity to escape.
The two friends didn't though. The brownie told them it wasn't necessary. They were here with a purpose.
That purpose? File a complaint, and file a termination of blood feud.
Well, file complaints and terminations of blood feuds.
Twenty hours later, Harry's right wrist hurting from all the paperwork, they left the ministry free man and woman.
Harry was now the richest wizard in History. With the aid of some obscure twelve's century law, blood feud etiquette, the chart of the first magical governing body of Britain, and the right of conquest, he now owned everything formerly belonging to all the extinct Houses the Black FTE slaughtered. They were a lot. And it wasn't finished, as the bloodbath on the continent would continue for some days, as the Cuddles maintained their hunt.
Once the hunt was done, Harry also became King of (magical) Britain, by the combination of those factors listed above. He was also the most feared man in the world, without ever being a Dark Lord himself.
It took them ten years, but Hermione finally became his Queen. Mostly because she was the only one who knew what it entailed thanks to a brownie. (They were in love too, but that took them ten more years to acknowledge, and some therapy to go over Ron's sudden demise.)
Harry implemented the FTE contingency on a few more of his properties, with loyal elves in the know. Out of the 37 existing, he skipped some. Hopefully, he didn't need them in his lifetime, but maybe it would help one of his numerous descendants. (For five generations, women in the Black family would only give birth to triplets. Hermione had five pregnancies, all to term. Do the math.)
None of his kids became King, as he gave away all the Houses in between them and deserving survivors of the war. With Hermione's help, they rebuilt a fairer government.
Oh, and I forgot to tell you what FTE was for. It means Fuck The Enemy.