CH19: Paid in Blood
September 30th
2:09am
RAF Cabyll, Isle of Man
Harry
Crouched, shrouded by his invisibility cloak, Harry sat atop a large truck transporting goods to the compound. Apparating onto the roof was easy enough, waiting for the guardsmen to do their usual checks at the front gate was torture.
Below Harry, the driver leaned out the window and handed some papers to a soldier, with a clipboard. When all was decidedly in order, the soldier waved the truck on its way into the compound. With a loud ruble, the truck started once again. Immediately, the truck began to veer left, towards the barracks and eventually the store house but his target was on the opposite side of the fort. In the north western corner laid the surveillance centre which had to be dealt with first, if there was even a scrap of physical evidence of magical interference then they'd be in for a horrible ride.
Before the truck could complete its turn, Harry applied a disillusionment charm and pocketed his cloak. 'Gotta move fast, can't have it slow me down.' A swiftly cast 'arresto momentum' cushioned his fall from the roof and then he was off.
He passed a large building he knew to be the mess hall. 'No lights on inside, good.' From there it was a short distance sprint past three smaller buildings, one of which had a large antenna on the top, crackling and sparking. 'Bill and Kinglsey, right on time.'
At the end of the path of those three buildings lay another, the CCTV control room. He saddled up to the door, an ugly grey thing with no window. But it wasn't sound proof, he could hear a man inside muttering to himself, something about machines always failing. The door to the building swung open soundlessly under Harry's invisible touch. Unbeknownst to him, the soldier on duty inside, a guardian of the muggle realm, sensed an intrusion and turned around.
"You," the young man said, staring right through Harry, "did you do this? Your stealth gear is a little off. Who are you? Some foreign spy?"
'He's not staring through me; he can see me…' Harry shut the door behind him and deactivated his disillusionment. The soldier must've been half bluffing considering his shocked expression as Harry came into form. "I'm sorry." Harry said without a single inflection of emotion, "you can't be allowed to interfere."
Without warning, the soldier lunged at Harry, catching him off guard. A solid kick found its mark in Harry's ribs, the impact sending a jolt of pain through his body. Against the cold, unyielding wall, Harry found himself ducking the next attack, the soldier's attempt to grab him failing.
In a calculated move, Harry's hand sought the familiar weight of his dagger. With a swift and deliberate motion, he struck, the blade finding its mark three times in the soldier's chest. The soldier faltered, weakened by the sudden assault, allowing Harry to push the attack.
As the soldier crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath, Harry, cold determination in his eyes, delivered a callous coup de grâce. The dagger plunged through the soldier's eye, penetrating the depths of his brain. The life within the perceptive soldier disappeared.
Unphased by the grim task he'd carried out, Harry seized the soldier's handgun. The metallic coldness pressed against his palm as he left the room, as he inspected the weapon. 'Nothing electrical, should have no problem under my cloak.'
Harry turned his attention to the objective at hand. In front of him were a multitude of screens, each showing a different part of the compound. One of the screens showed the back of the food truck he'd come in on which put an end to his idle observation. 'Time to get a move on.'
Wand in hand, Harry thought,'incendio;' and watched a pillar of flame crash into the screens in front of him. The fire began to spread quickly and so Harry took his leave into the compound grounds, once more disillusioned, moving onto the next part of the plan.
September 30th
2:13am
RAF Cabyll, Isle of Man
Daphne
The food truck, its exterior inconspicuous amidst the shadows, rolled into the heart of the muggle compound. Daphne and Moody, concealed within its confines, bore witness to a bounty that held the promise of salvation for their beleaguered camp. Fresh produce and non-perishables were stacked from top to bottom. It was a miracle the two fit inside in the first place.
As the truck began to slow, Daphne wasted no time.
"Dobby," she quietly called, "it's time."
Responding to the call, Dobby materialised within the truck, his eager eyes fixed on the abundance before him. With a flick of his tiny hands, he began the intricate dance of transporting goods from the truck to the hidden stores at the resistance camp. Apparating and disapparating in swift succession, Dobby became an ethereal conduit between the truck and the camp.
'Right on queue,' she thought as she felt the layers of protective wards, signalling the progress of Bill and Kingsley, cease their steady accumulation. The duo had fulfilled their assigned task, leaving the compound exposed to the impending infiltration and devoid of the chance of reinforcements.
Around them, the truck emptied at a terrifying pace. Just as the final stack of cans disappeared thanks to Dobby's adept thievery, the truck came to a full stop. Muffled sounds of conversation penetrated her ears and she began to grow antsy.
'We're running out of time Harry…'
A clack at the door caught her attention as the inside of the truck was bathed in light. Still disillusioned, Daphne had a perfect view of a soldier's confusion as he realised there was nothing inside the back of the truck.
"Oi, where the bloody shite is all the food? You stitch us up Reggie?" The soldier's confusion turned to anxiety as what sounded like fireworks started going off somewhere in the camp. "Fuck! We're under attack!"
'Not fireworks, Harry.' She hadn't expected him to use muggle weaponry but the more chaos the better, harder to pinpoint the culprit.
As gunshots echoed through the compound, the troops and the driver abandoned the empty truck and left to help wake their comrades.
Daphne and Moody, seizing the opportunity, disembarked from the truck. With a wave of their wands, they disabled their disillusionment charms, revealing their forms to the world outside. The entirety of the building loomed before them, packed with a staggering variety of food. Just like the truck, crates of food were stacked on top of eachother, floor to ceiling, a testament to the muggles' ingenuity.
A fiery explosion erupted near the front gate and from the store house Daphne could see a watchtower collapse on its side, blocking the entrance, or rather, the exit.
"Go, I'll cover for Dobby." Mad Eye grunted as he stomped the way the soldiers had run. 'If he can get to the armoury before the troopers do then this'll be over before they know it.'
September 30th
2:18am
RAF Cabyll, Isle of Man
Harry
Under the cloak of invisibility, Harry moved through the compound like a phantom, his every step calculated and silent. In his hands, he gripped the stolen handgun, a tool of both precision and destruction. His mind focused, he approached the second set of watchtowers, the first he used confringo on to topple.
With deliberate aim, Harry fired shots from the shadows, the men on the towers with spotlights and mounted machine guns falling without a clue as to the origin of the assault. He apparated to each tower doing the same, making sure to miss a few shots to make the lie believable.
As he transitioned from towers to buildings, the mechanical nature of the handgun proved advantageous in the magical setting. Its lack of electronic components made it a seamless companion to Harry's concealment. He continued his relentless assault, picking off unsuspecting soldiers with each stealthy encounter.
The buildings, once solid structures, were transformed into infernos by Harry's hand. Fire licked at the structures, shadows dancing in macabre celebration. The chaos and destruction were the harbingers of their message – a resistance unyielding, a force to be reckoned with.
Amidst the disarray, the soldiers attempted to organise a defence within the headquarters building. They set up men on every window facing outward, with the armoury in lockdown by Moody though they had little by way of ammunition. Unseen and unheard, Harry, still concealed by the cloak, fired shots through the windows, the lack of a muzzle flash leaving the soldiers with a target to return fire on.
Harry had expected panic, but the moment he had fired, a single volley of shots sped towards him. "Agh," he exclaimed as he felt something hit his shoulder.
"Again!" A shout from inside the building made him forget the pain quickly as he dove behind a fountain at the middle of a junction.
'How?' Harry thought as he inspected the damage behind the fountain. A single bullet managed to pass through the thin material of the battle robes, striking him in the shoulder. The pain was different to anything he'd experienced before, it burned slightly but that was all he could feel. 'Can they see me too? Surely the cloak isn't failing.'
"I'm sure I heard something."
"Keep it tight, eyes up." The commanding voice Harry had heard before was leading his troops into the courtyard. "Two of you go to the food stores, that will be their main objective."
'No dammit.' Ignoring his wound, Harry surged forward out of cover and took aim at the closest soldier.
'Click.'
"By the fountain!"
Harry dropped to the floor as nine men trained their guns in his general direction and opened fire. The sound was thunderous and was coupled with the crumbling stone featurette that was torn to shreds behind him.
"Hold, save the ammo. He's all out."
'They can hear me,' he realised. Harry had never witnessed such sophisticated coordination which stumped him. 'Quietly then.' His wand dropped into his hand and he cast a localised silencio on his boots.
In a tightly knit circle, nine soldiers were crouched awaiting Harry to make another mistake. But Harry didn't have eyes for them, no, he was after the two that were jogging towards the store house. One apparition later and he was ten paces in front of them, his attack was decisive.
Harry thrust the dagger forward, puncturing one of the men's necks and driving him to the ground.
"What the fuck…" The second soldier had no clue what he was witnessing, he was so frightened that he had dropped his rifle and stood staring at the dying man.
Harry slashed his weapon across his body, cutting the shocked trooper's throat with ease. Harry crouched down next to bleeding out men and grabbed their weapons. 'They're low on ammo,' he thought as he slung the weapons over his healthy shoulder, 'let's keep it that way.'
"Sedibris," he whispered as his eyes clouded over and the world turned blue. From where he was, Harry could still see the nine men crouched in a circle. 'Stay right there, I'll be back.'
Harry turned and began jogging the short distance to the storehouse, with the defenders putting up more of a fight, he needed to ensure they were well on their way out of there as soon as possible.
September 30th
2:36am
RAF Cabyll, Isle of Man
Daphne
Merely a spectator in this plan, Daphne was growing tired of observing darkness. Apart from the intermittent 'pops' of Dobby appearing and reappearing, Daphne had no clue how much food had already been taken. Harry's destruction of the compound and its inhabitants had kept her on high alert but with smoke rising into the air and the frequent crack of gunshots, Daphne was losing her patience.
'I shouldn't be here,' she thought, frustrated, 'I should be out there with you.'
As though her thoughts alone could summon him, Daphne's peripheral vision caught a shimmer of movement in the corner of her eye.
"Harry?" she asked quietly.
His emergence answered her question and served to heighten her concern. His eyes were wide and unblinking as he surveyed the room like a predator. His hands though, caked in blood all the way up to the elbow.
"Dobby," as usual the loyal elf appeared instantly, "you need to move faster"
"Harry, take a moment," Daphne suggested, coming to the defence of the elf. "Dobby is doing, you need to slow down."
But Harry, a whirlwind of intensity, brushed off her concern. "I'm seeing this through" he retorted, a harshness in his tone that suited his appearance. He disappeared into the night, leaving behind the echoes of more gunshots that reverberated through the compound.
Dobby, ever sensitive to the nuances of human emotion, dropped his ears in sadness at Harry's brusqueness. The once warm and caring friend now seemed consumed by a cold resolve, leaving little room for the usual camaraderie.
"Don't take it personally," Daphne consoled Dobby, her voice laced with the outrage she felt. "He's lost too much recently."
Dobby nodded, understanding but unable to shake the sorrow that lingered in the air. With renewed determination, he refocused on his task, teleporting the food from the compound to the safety of their camp. Each displacement of goods was a small victory, a testament to their resilience in the face of adversity.
Daphne watched crate after crate dematerialise in front of her at an alarming rate and returned to standing watch.
'Watch yourself, Harry, pushing us away won't do you any good.'
September 30th
2:49am
RAF Cabyll, Isle of Man
Harry
The night air was thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burning. With a flick of his wand, he conjured flames that danced across the headquarters building, the hungry fire consuming everything in its path. Flinching at the muffled screams emanating from within, Harry couldn't escape the grim reality of his actions.
He moved with purpose towards the armoury, where Moody was ensuring their attack remained uncontested. There, amidst the arsenal of weaponry, Harry relayed the next steps. "Moody, head to the storehouse. Regroup with the others then leave when the food is gone," he commanded, his voice cutting through the night.
Mad Eye offered no argument, which honestly surprised Harry. As Moody departed, Harry ignited the armoury with well placed incendio's, flames licking at the cache of weapons until it erupted in a fiery explosion. The resounding blast marked the final punctuation to their covert assault.
As his comrades retreated to the chateau, Harry remained behind, a solitary figure amid the remnants of the burning compound. There were still signs of life, soldiers wandering around trying to find their friends and that leader barking orders over the roaring flames.
Harry drew his knife and his visage blended into the surroundings. 'The work isn't done,' Harry steeled himself, 'and it must be done.'
September 30th
5:12am
Black Chateau, Isle of Man
Harry
The world spun until it didn't and the muddy apparition point became the ground beneath his feet. The night's festivities clung to Harry like a heavy cloak as he made his way back from the razed muggle compound. Exhaustion weighed on him, not just the physical fatigue, but the burden of the lives he had taken in the name of preserving their hidden world. The wand in his hand felt full, satiated of its bloodlust.
With each step, the path back to the chateau seemed longer, a solitary journey through the camp of witches and wizards who had entrusted him with their lives. Drenched in the aftermath of destruction, his black hair clung to his forehead, sticky with sweat. In the dim light of the morning sun, he barely registered the blood completely covering him from head to waist.
As he passed the tents, the camp stirred. Faces emerged, curious and anxious, to witness the aftermath etched on Harry's countenance. Murmurs began to ripple through the lined crowd, whispers of what he had done,
'Gossip to your heart's content,' Harry thought bitterly, 'at least you will be alive to do so.' He raised his head to see he was only halfway to the front door but also noticed the corridor of onlookers that had gathered on either side of the main path.
A woman, cradling her baby son, stepped forward, her eyes brimming with an earnest gratitude that Harry met with tired eyes of his own.
"Thank you, Harry Potter," she uttered, her voice carrying a mix of awe and relief. Harry stared at her, unsure of how to process, he just nodded his head to acknowledge that he had heard her. She bowed her head, stepping back into the hushed crowd.
The words hung in the air, a sentiment shared by others who dared to express their gratitude. One by one, the witches and wizards lining the path began to bow, a silent acknowledgment of the sacrifices made to protect their hidden world.
Weary and numbed, Harry continued his ascent toward the chateau. The weight on his shoulders lessened with each grateful bow, replaced by a flicker of positivity. It was a bittersweet solace, a moment where the darkness that clouded his mind momentarily lifted.
Finally reaching the grand doors of the chateau, Harry turned to look back at the camp. The thankful eyes of those he led met his gaze, and for the first time since Hermione's death, a spark of positivity resonated within him. It was a fragile ember in the aftermath of destruction, but in that fleeting moment, Harry found a semblance of hope amid the shadows.