The after party in the pink party palace that was Sirius "party pad" from the 1970's was honestly almost restrained compared to some of the Irish fan parties, the Bulgarian Krum celebrations, the Pan African we-don't-have-to-clean-up-or-fly-home party, or the Brazillian hosted dance party that were raging at different parts of the huge field that the poor muggle caretakers had been oblivated a hundred times to not notice had been expanded from a normal campground to roughly the size of the city of Rome during the Republic.
They were hosting the Weasleys because a sulking Fred and George had discovered that Ludo Bagman was not actually able to cover the bet they had made with him, and needed a bit of cheering up. Sirius thought Arthur needed some Molly Free time to loosen up. Narcissa had her wand ready to either put out fires or hose down and over-excited Sirius, she wasn't sure which.
Luna had stopped singing along and gone quiet. Her eyes began to tear. Narcissa looked on with something like horror as her Draco crossed the room in half a dozen steps to take her hand and whisper quietly to her. He shifted into hugging her, and began to talk to her first tenderly, and then Narcissa watched her son's face shift from the caring boy she still couldn't believe he was, to the cold blooded killer she had recently divorced. Draco's face became hard plains, his aristocratic features took on the cold mask of unfeeling iron that her husband had worn when he killed.
Draco and Luna rose. Noodle locked eyes with Luna who hissed something at him. The snake simply slithered to Harry who had been dancing with Hermione to the latest Weird Sister's single. The two of them stopped and turned to face Draco and Luna.
The sounds of screaming came from outside, and Sirius laughed softly. "Looks like the Irish are overdoing it again."
Remus Lupin was a werewolf, and his senses stretched beyond the merely human, whatever he tried to pretend. He spoke softly. "That isn't the Irish. Someone just screamed 'Death Eater.' "
Narcissa's blood went cold. She had never been on a raid, but her ex husbands laughing description of the shock and horror of a massed Death Eater attack taught her to expect panic and helplessness. The Aurors had always been useless, and the Order of the Phoenix frequently arrived soon enough to limit the damage, but the Dark Mark in the sky blocked Apparation and Portkeys other than via the Dark Mark branded Death Eaters. When they struck, the Death Eaters were predators trapped alone with terrified prey.
Sirius Black was a godfather, which he took seriously. His first instinct had been to charge into battle as the Auror and Hit Wizard he used to be, but he overrode that. He was Harry's godfather, and these kids where his responsibility.
"Right then, lets get everyone up. We move to the apparition point and get out. Let the Auror's handle it." He said, false smile on his face.
Harry had his knife in one hand, he tested the edge and looked to Neville. Neville was checking inside his potions belt to make sure every plant and potion he had prepared was in place. Hermione checked the chamber on her Walther PPK, slid it into place in her potions belt, then made sure she had memorized where the attack, escape, and defense potions were located before nodding. Milicent was grinning, her wand in her hand and her shoulders slanting forward like a sprinter in the blocks, ready for the opening gun to charge forward.
Luna tucked her wand behind her ear and kissed Draco's cheek before putting on what the Ravenclaw obviously patterned after Hermione's serious face. The two Weasley's were rummaging through their bags to fill pockets with odds and ends, laughing madly and high fiving when they found bits they just now thought of a use for.
"Harry, what do you kids think you are doing." Sirius asked in his best responsible adult voice.
"They killed my mother, my father, tortured Nevilles until they were nearly dead, tried for Milicent, tried for Draco, tried for me. This time they put on their pretty robes and masks. They went and put on uniforms, so I guess it's time we taught them how goblins go to war." Harry said, Noodle at his side hissing wordlessly, fangs out.
Narcissa turned to the Weasley twins. "Your tricks won't work. Lucius told me the Death Eater mask isn't just to hide them. It detects illusions and invisibility, and it acts as the only portkey that can function beneath the Dark Mark."
"Detects Illusions?" Said Fred happily
"Brilliant!" Agreed George as they high fived again before giving Narcissa a thumbs up.
Narcissa turned to her son. "Draco, these are Death Eaters. Each of them is far stronger and more experienced than you. If you fight them, you will die."
Noodle hissed angrily. "$ We do not fight. Mammals and idiots fight. We hunt. You call them Death Eaters, all I smell is prey. $"
Narcissa looked at the room around her, outside of Remus and herself who looked properly terrified, the wide white toothed grins flashing back at her could well have been from so many goblins or great white sharks. Even her little Draco did not look like some terrified child or dewy eyed would be hero. He looked like a dragon about to hunt.
Sirius laughed. "Well I was always shite at being the reasonable one. This isn't a duel and this isn't school. If they have a chance to see you, they will kill you. Don't play fair, don't be seen, and don't bother stunning. Death Eaters succeed because they create panic and confusion, they don't care who they kill, they just want to spread fear so they are going to move fast and hit hard.
Don't talk, don't challenge, don't stun. Remember, you can't shield against unforgivables. March to the sound of the screaming, and don't die."
He led them from the tent, wand in hand, and went to war. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin went to war for the second time, and this time it was Narcissa Black who guarded their backs.
Harry hissed his commands in parseltongue as they approached the fires.
"$ Mouse Giver into the fires. Water Witch into the big tent area. Root Singer into the woods. Noodle with me.$" Harry hissed, his mind already working. He pulled his invisibility cloak around himself. The cloak was one of the Deathly Hallows, a Potter treasure inherited from the Peverells. A cloak that could hide even from death, it would hide him from Death Eaters. Noodle's own invisibility would not hide him, but a black snake in the grass in a night split with fire and screams was hard to see even without it.
He saw the Death Eaters. They had a muggle family suspended in mid air, they strode in their hoods and masks, driving screaming witches and wizards before them with the mere fear of their coming. They cast cutting and blood boiling curses, leaving screaming victims to left and right as they set tents on fire as they past.
Everywhere they strode, death followed. Some dared to stand, but as they cast their shield charms and tossed their stunners and disarming spells, bolts of jagged green light lanced back.
"Avada Kedavera!" Harry heard again and again, as he remembered the deaths of his mother and father, relived through so many nightmares.
Harry was no baby this time. He crouched behind a tent, waited until the Death Eater passed and drove his goblin silver knife into his liver, and twisted. The Death Eater spasmed and started to fall, and Harry cut his throat calmly. He heard, rather than saw a second Death Eater cry out as he noticed his partner being butchered.
Harry slid back inside his cloak and fell to the ground and rolled as a powerful blasting curse struck where he was. A black rope of nightmare flashed beside him, and the ground where it struck boiled into ooze as the curse the Death Eater threw.
Harry didn't see the strike, but the Death Eater cursing him suddenly screamed and grabbed his leg. His scream turned into a gurgle before he hit the ground and began thrashing. Harry noticed that Noodle's venom continued to grow stronger as Harry's magical power increased. It must be part of their familiar bond.
Invisible, he moved through fire and chaos, seeking those who wished to eat death. He had so much to feed them.
-Hermione's POV
Hermione Jean Granger was not a fighter. She was a witch. Magic and the knowledge it offered her, of the fundamental building blocks of the universe, of the true nature of reality that lay beyond and beneath the veil of science were what drew her.
She had learned about the Wiccan's and the great British Magical revival of the 1960's. They got it wrong of course, muggles always did. Still, she had secretly in her heart of hearts, thought the ideal of 'an harm none, do as thou wilt' was a creed she could live by. A proper crede for witches.
She stepped into the burning tents, and saw an old man whose legs had been cut off, he was burned to death along with the child he had tried to shield with his life. She didn't even have to think, for fire would not harm her, would not touch her unless she willed it. Fire was hers, and she belonged to fire.
She looked down at the burned corpse of what looked like grandfather and grandchild, now so burned she could not tell if it had been boy or girl. An harm none, do as thou wilt. That was the code of a good witch. That was less restrictive even than the code Dumbledore was always preaching about second chances and the sacredness of all life, even your enemies.
Hermione looked at how the skull seemed to have frozen into a scream before the flesh finished cooking. She stood in a firestorm of burning tents, and saw Death Eaters deliberately warding the entrance to a burning tent, trapping those inside. Knowing that when the tent had burned enough, the spatial expansion charms would fail, and the family inside would be crushed to death. The Death Eaters could have killed them swiftly, but they chose to make them die slowly by fire or collapsing space simply for their amusement.
Good witches do not kill. Hermione sighed. "I am not that kind of witch."
She reached out to fire, and sang to it. There was no spell, no incantation. She sang in parseltongue to the fires the Death Eaters had lit, she sang to the souls of the dead and dying, she sang to magic and the night. They answered, and the fire flowed into a serpent of red flame that crawled through the tents, seeking those in masks and Death Eater robes.
"$This ae nighte, this ae nighte,
(Refrain:) —Every nighte and alle,
Fire and fleet and candle-lighte,
(Refrain:) And Magic take thy soul.
When thou from Hogwarts hall art past,
(Refrain:) —Every nighte and alle,
From Founders words thy way is lost;
(Refrain:) And Magic take thy soul.
If ever thou bore the Darkest mark
(Refrain:) —Every nighte and alle,
Taint thy gift with cruelest work;
(Refrain:) And Magic take thy soul.
If ever thou gavest magic or gold
(Refrain:) —Every nighte and alle,
The fire sall surely make thee shrink;
(Refrain:) And Magic take thy soul.
That Darkest mark on arm and soul,
(Refrain:) —Every nighte and alle,
To dragon's fire thou com'st at last;
(Refrain:) And Magic take thy soul.
That deathless one who serpents speak
(Refrain:) —Every nighte and alle,
Shall serpent's meal himself become
(Refrain:) And Magic take thy soul.
This ae nighte, this ae nighte,
(Refrain:) —Every nighte and alle,
Fire and fleet and candle-lighte,
(Refrain:) -And Magic take thy soul. $"
The witch of fire strode through a nightmare of burning tents, and where she walked, twisted corpses of Death Eaters fell. When her magic had been exhausted, she fell unconscious into the wreckage of a burning tent, and fire cloaked her in scarlet feathers, like a phoenix brooding in its nest.
-Milicent Bulstrode, Fred and George Weasley
Milicent walked to the well and reached down with her power, she called upon the water in the well, the water in the air, and she began to chant. She felt the runes in her body burn ice cold as she called upon the first mist, the icy primordial mist of Ginnungagap, and pushed her power into it. The mist was no common fog, for it was the primal mists of creation, the mists of the chaos before form. It was the reality before the reality, the stillness and silence before and after all creation.
It was cold as a bitch, and spooky with it. It drank sound and light, twisted magic as its unreality, its chaos nibbled at the order of wanded magic and unwove it like a sugar cube dropped in tea. Magic, sight, sound, all bent and twisted oddly in the fog, so that the mighty Death Eaters who chased their running prey into it suddenly found themselves without targets.
The Death Eater mask caused all illusions to glow green, so they could not be fooled by those seeking to imitate the Death Eater regalia to survive the attack, nor could common disillusionment or invisibility cloaks save them. This fog however sank claws of ice into their bones and surrounded them with half seen phantasms, where every casual thought became almost real.
The six of them moved as a squad. They had been eight once, but one was dead, having crossed wands with Alistor Moody who did not do arrests, and one in Azkaban for crossing James Potter who did. Still, they had been a well honed machine in the war, and the so called witches and wizards were still less than cattle, they barely qualified as sheep, so easily did they panic and run before their betters.
Rosier snarled, someone was creating this fog. He would find them, and he would kill them.
"Split up. Find whoever is casting this damned fog and kill them." Rosier demanded.
"How in the hell do we know who is casting this? I don't even know what it is, and I am a Merlin be damned Charms master!" Snarled Corbin Yaxley, over thinking things as bookworms usually did.
"Kill anyone who isn't a Death Eater. When the fog stops, you found them." Pointed our Rosier. He didn't know why Malfoy and Rockwood always overcomplicated things. Just kill until no one else is left and the problem is solved. That his how they almost won the last time. Freaking Potter had to screw it up. This time they would get it right, finish the job. The Dark Lord was returning. His Dark Mark burned.
Rosier would be among the faithful who were rewarded. He would be raised up while those idiots who waited for their Dark Lord's summons to act would be punished. All they had to do was kill whoever was making this fog, then they could teach the wizarding world the Death Eaters were back, and the Dark Lord is rising!
They split up. A voice popped up to his left. "Hello"
Rosier turned and fired off a silent cutting curse, but the figure was already gone.
"That wasn't" Said the voice again, this time to his right. He cursed again, this time a whip of black magic that would slowly boil the victims blood, but no one was there to strike.
"Very friendly" Now behind him. He spun, putting up a strong shield "Protego Maximus!" He roared as a golden shield sprang to life, power intensive, but would block anything but the unforgivable.
He heard the chanting and felt some magic touch his shield, not trying to penetrate it, but laying on top of it like paint. He turned to face the shape he saw moving to approach him. It too had a glowing shield around it.
NO! Rosier almost missed it. The Death Eater walking towards him glowed green. The Death Eater was under an illusion. An enemy! His wand snapped up and he began to chant.
"Avada Kedavera!" He screamed, and the other figure matched him. The two unforgivable curses crossed and two Death Eaters fell dead, their shields dissolving without a living will to hold them. The illusion in the Death Eater regalia stood in place where the two wizards had been. Two illusions of the exact reality under the shield. Two illusions detected by paranoid Death Eaters that proceeded to murder each other, not realizing the body beneath the illusion looked the exact same as the illusion.
"That was" Said George
"A bit violent." Concluded Fred.
"Oh well." Mused Fred
"Next one." Suggested George
Moving through the fog of mists and madness, two Gryffindor lions hunted Death Eaters. Their only weapons were illusions their targets could obviously detect as illusions. That they worked anyway made it the most excellent prank.
As long as Milicent could hold the mist, and fill it with her magic, the Weasley boys would make sure these Death Eaters only got to hunt each other.
The Veela cheerleaders were herding and protecting a group of children. The allure of the Veela made them natural babysitters, as with small children the effect wasn't sexual but rather gave children an instinctive urge to listen to the Veela.
The Bulgarian contingent had a dozen Veela protecting about sixty children when the Death Eater attack started, but both the children and the Veela had been high priority targets for the Death Eaters. The Veela were herding their children towards the trees, hoping to get out of the endless confusion of the tents and back into the wild they felt comfortable in to hide the children.
The Death Eaters had no intention of letting them succeed.
"Avada Kedavera!" A Death Eater shouted, and a green beam struck a Veela, dropping her to the ground.
"INCINDO!" Another Veela shouted, her wand directing a fireball enhanced with all her races fire magic to blast back at the Death Eater, but his body turned to black fog and flowed around the blast to appear beside her.
"Crucio!" He sneered, and a blood red bar connected her to his wand, and she screamed in pain beyond pain, and collapsed. The children were all screaming now.
Suddenly a voice sang from behind them, a light soprano, not filled with terror, or defiance, but a happy joyful song that had no place on a battlefield. The Death Eaters turned
"Butterfly, butterfly,
Whence do you come?
I know not, I ask not,
Nor ever had a home.
Butterfly, butterfly,
Where do you go?
Where the sun shines,
And where the buds grow."
Luna Lovegood sang and danced, her wand waving, slicing through the pattern of charm after charm as she blasted a stream of butterflies from her wand, thousands of butterflied made of light. They shone similar to a Patronus, but they burned when they touched the Death Eaters. Not enough to kill, but enough to disrupt their thoughts, their movements, and their spells.
"Crucio!" The unforgiveable lanced out from the wand of one of the Death Eaters, but Luna danced and wove with her eyes focused on a world only she could see, as she sang to magic, and magic sang back. She danced with magic, but Luna always let magic lead.
"Reducto!"
"Diffindo!"
"Avada Kedavera!"
The curses lashed at her, but the whirl of butterfly drank most of the spells, only the Unforgivables cutting through, but Luna was lost in the dance, and magic was not done with her yet.
Draco crawled on his belly without any shade of pride. He hissed softly, but too loud to his own ears. One seconds notice would be all it took to blot out his life. He was no Gryffindor, he had no death wish.
Well, not his death anyway.
" $ Serpentsorcia $" he chanted again and again, the serpents summoned using parselmagic were both more potent and more vicious. He recognized them as black mamba, the fastest snake on earth, and one of the most deadly. They knifed through the long English grass like they were starving and Death Eaters were the last food.
The first screams were not long in coming.
Luna had lost herself in the dance and tripped to fall in an unseen ditch. He hoped she had the sense to stay down. She had to be almost out of magic, and the Death Eaters only had to be close with some of the spells they were tossing around.
The Death Eaters realized the grass was full of death, and their targets had made the treeline. With a snarl, they turned to black fog and apparated to the treeline.
Draco slumped down, content to go look at the one who his snakes seemed to have killed. He should check to find out who he was, and see if he bore any instructions. It would be stupid, but his father always complained about how the 'burn after reading' so often got ignored by at least one idiot.
He supposed normal people didn't grow up learning how Death Eaters practiced human relations, and conducted after massacre critiques. Draco was happy Luna didn't judge him for what he could share, and Harry was more than half goblin and loved any stolen information. He just hated feeling ashamed every time he shared what he knew, not enough to send his friends in without what he could give, but sometimes he wished he had a Hufflepuff childhood.
Then Draco heard the first screams from the forest. Deep manly screams. Honestly, what kind of idiot followed women and children into a forest protected by Neville Longbottom with intent to rape and murder? Neville was the ultimate Hufflepuff, he turned what ought to be considered a nightmare of fang and claw into the ultimate cuddle badger. Draco should be allowed to sneer at him, but the screams had turned to sobs and broken wet sounds of flesh being torn.
No. Only an idiot followed Neville Longbottom, the Root Singer, the Lord of the Forest into the woods with intent to harm defenseless women and children. Draco nudged the dead Death Eater. "Hey moron. You got lucky. Never let the Hufflepuffs get you."
Draco pulled down the mask. "Walden McNair, the Department of Magical Creatures pet executioner, and I killed you with a magical creature. I am either going to laugh at that, or need serious therapy. Either way, I am not going into those woods to see what Longbottom did to the rest of them."
After a while, the surviving Veela came out, supporting the one who had been tortured. The children were laughing and giggling, one of the very small ones was riding a very large badger with pink bows braided into his hair.
Looking past the cuddle badger and his flock of rescued children, he swore he could see nine different bodies impaled by and on the trees of the deep forest when the bushes at the forest edge literally bent out of Nevilles way as he led the children out.
Draco shuddered. Hufflepuffs. They were all smiles and group hugs until the killing started. Then they could make a good Slytherin get the chills. Luna had risen from the ditch and was complimenting Neville on his pretty bows. Draco realized he was drawing odd looks from the Veela. Ah yes, still sitting on a dead Death Eater.
Bad form that. Getting up, Draco cast a spell to create an illusion of grass over the body. Wouldn't do to scare the children at this point. He was definitely going to need therapy. Much as it pained him, he was going to have to ask Granger for her contact.
-Sirius and the grownups
There was a battle going on, and Sirius was marching to the sound of the wands, as his Auror training told him to. Remus Lupin was at his side as always, and this time he had Harry rather than James backing him up, but close enough. He had traded that rat Pettigrew for that bitch Narcissa, which he supposed was an upgrade, but once again the Marauders were going to war.
"Stay close to me Harry, and let us do most of the fighting." Sirius said as they approached the battle.
"He left you right after the tent. Sent all the other children to hunt death eaters. Assigned them sweep zones like an actual officer. It was almost stirring if he hadn't sent my only son off to hunt the deadliest wizards on earth." Narcissa said softly, her eyes never stopping moving.
"I told him to stay with us!" Snarled Sirius.
"Did you ever listen?" Argued Remus, reasonably.
"That was different!" Shouted Sirius.
The three theoretical adults ran into a running battle between eight Death Eaters and what was left of the Irish minister's Auror team.
Four Aurors were down, and all Death Eaters were still on their feet.
A killing curse flashed at Sirius, but Remus had already transfigured a fist of earth to rise up and block the deadly beam. Narcissa swept a powerful Protego around them to protect from the fragments, but Sirius had his wand moving in a whiplike motion as he hissed in the parseltongue that worked entirely too well with the Black family magic.
A whip of black fire slashed from his wand and wrapped around two Death Eaters, with a flick, Sirius pulled it back, and they were both cut deeply, one losing his left arm, and all the flesh the whip had touched burned now with black fire that ate the tissues around and under it.
The Death Eaters reacted to the slow and painful killing of two of their own by splitting. Three stayed on the Aurors and Irish Minister, and three on Sirius and crew.
The lead figure of the Death Eaters moved fast for a big man, and his curses were not individual shots, but flowed from his wand as he moved almost in a dance. His chanting and casting were a seamless flow, curses, charms, and elemental effects alternated, forcing Sirius to alternate between blocking and dodging.
The power of the spells was frightening, but the pace was a hundred times more terrifying. A normal wizard would be out of power within less than a minute of casting at that power, yet the stranger showed no hint of stopping. Likewise, the spells flowed, each wand motion leading into the next, each body motion of casting blending into the dodge.
This was the work of a master duelist. Sirius had only known three people to move like that. James was dead, Flitwick was three feet high, and that left.
"Dulohov! You murdering bastard, this time you die!" Sirius shouted and went into full attack mode. Antonin Dulohov had been Voldemort's pet duelist. He had killed a number of Sirius friends back in the last war, and killed a few more while Sirius was in prison in totally legal duels where he served as a wand for hire.
"Black, just about out of friends aren't you. Potter's dead, Pettigrew's dead. Just the werewolf left. Maybe I'll gut him, and leave you stunned so you can wake up wrapped in his intestines. Wouldn't that be sweet?" Dulohov laughed, not fearing Sirius.
Their spells lit up the night, and Dulohov's smirk died as he realized Sirius was casting faster, and hitting harder than he ever had before. Worse, the bastard wasn't even paying attention to just Dulohov.
Sirius moved not like a duelist at all. He stalked forward like some great predator, his spells at Dulohov required all of Dulohov's attention, but every once in a while he would conjure or transfigure a shield to ward the witch to his rear, or the werewolf to his flank. It was like he could see the whole of the battle, without losing concentration on the duel.
"Serpentsorcia!" Dulohov began adding conjured snakes to his chains of curses and charms, hoping that Sirius would miss or ignore at least one, giving the snake a chance to strike Sirius or one of his allies and break the bastards rhythm.
Dulohov smiled now. He had cast it six times, and Sirius had ignored all of them. Azkaban had cut his situational awareness. Dulohov was ready to strike the second the serpents distracted Black. The Marauders died tonight. A fitting welcome for the Dark Lord on his return.
"Antonin, did I tell you the good news?" Sirius said as he dove to the ground to miss the Cruciatus curse Antonin put between stunner and lightning bolt.
"What is that?" Antonnin Dulohov said, beginning to cast his most powerful bombarda maxima to stun all three when Black got hit by the first snake and dropped that too powerful protego.
"$ I'm a parselmouth. Sick em boys! $" Sirius hissed, and Antonnin had one second to connect the hissing he heard at the beginning of the fight with his Dark Lord's own parseltongue before the first of the six snakes bit him.
Dulohov tried to activate his portkey in his mask. If he wasn't all the way dead, his House Elf would potion him to healthy enough to summon aid. That would be when he felt Sirius Black hit him with the first spell.
"Finite Incantum" Sirius said coldly, the magical blast of disruption stopping the Portkey function of his mask. The mask was protected against the summoning charm Accio of course, but no one bothered to protect it from the weak and slow first year levitation charm.
"Wingardium Leviosa" Sirius chanted happily. Dulohov had time to see his mask, his portkey, his chance of survival rise into the air, before all he saw was flashing fangs and pain.
Narcissa had taken advantage of the duel to nail one of the Death Eaters with a nasty curse that turned his skin into ants that would try to devour the rest of his flesh. As a killing curse it was pathetically weak, but it was impossible to concentrate on casting spells or activating magic items when your skin turned to bugs and began biting you.
The Black family magic was not for duels, it was for killing.
Her next spell was a simple transfiguration. Muggle studies was not a waste, it was just misused. Air is mostly nitrogen, and was only 21% Oxygen, but that is the bit required to breathe. The bubblehead charm replaced the oxygen, as did a number of other spells. She would not waste her time trying to remove the oxygen since the Death Eater mask would replace it. However, turning the nitrogen into phosphorus caused the air around the Death Eater to enjoy what the muggles called a fuel air explosion.
Magical fire would have devoured the corpse, but muggle phosphorus still would burn at least the first few inches, it would just take a while. Well, the man did want to become a Death Eater, this death was just a little chewier than most.
Narcissa smiled, then reached down to the Irish Minister Sean Laverty. "Good day Minister Laverty. I am sorry that British hospitality has not been all that had been promised. Be assured House Black is working to correct that matter now."
The Minister along with his two living Aurors got to their feet as Sirius and Remus finished the two Death Eaters who stayed to fight, unable to stop the remainder who turned to black fog and retreated.
"Lady Malfoy? Were those Death Eaters, actual Death Eaters?" The Minister said, voice shaking in fear.
At that point a voice in the distance called out "Morsmordre!" and a green skull took shape in the sky, a long green snake flowed out of it.
Narcissa smiled. "Yes, those were actual Death Eaters. Like my former husband. I am rather pleased to announce both my own divorce, and that my son Draco has both taken House Malfoy, and cast my death eater ex husband, Lucius No Name, from it."
The minister looked too stunned, but the female Auror muttered a soft "Congratulations."
Narcissa smiled happily. "I am rather pleased."
Sirius stalked back, his killing of Dulohov having only partially slaked his thirst for revenge.
"I wished I would never see another of those bloody things." Sirius muttered only to see a group of Aurors and no less a figure than Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic charge in, a day late and galleon short as always.
Fudge was in a rage. He stuck his wand in Sirius face and screamed at him.
"Did you do this? Did you cast that mark? I will see you in Azkaban for this!" Fudge screamed at Sirius.
Minister Sean Laverty had regained enough composure to lose it at that point. He got in Fudge's face and screamed back.
"Did he do what? Cast the dark mark? No you English imbicile, he was busy trying to save me from DEATH EATERS, several of which he killed. Is this the safety the British Ministry promised us, is this the international cooperation you talk so much about. One group of British wizards actually steps between us and Death Eaters to defend us and you want to SEND THEM TO AZKABAN!"
The Irish Minister was shouting back at Fudge, and the politician was back tracking, his secure ground in attacking Black turning to a swamp beneath his feet.
"This man was released from Azkaban improperly, he cannot be trusted." Shouted Fudge desperately.
Sirius sneered. "As opposed to Dulohov, who I killed over there in Death Eater mask having a go at the Irish Minister. He was officially cleared of being a Death Eater after a sizable donation to somebody's campaign. Clearly that has worked out well for everybody."
At that point a very angry young man came up and raised his wand to the sky.
"$ Expecto Patronum! $" The boy screamed, and a silver basilisk the size of a small dragon soared into the air, its glowing silver radiance banishing fear and hopelessness as its light banished the darkness. The glowing silver basilisk opened its mouth wide and chomped down on the dark mark where it held in the sky and shattered it.
Instantly, the popping of apparition sounded, and dozens of Aurors appeared including Rufus Scrimgeor, Alastor Moody, and one very angry looking Albus Dumbledore.
It was hours of screaming before what passed for an investigation concluded. A handful of people ended up in the building the Aurors had commandeered for their headquarters. In saner times, it was a dining hall for the campground.
The Bulgarian, British, and Irish Ministers of magic, sat in a row, Albus Dumbledore as head of the ICW had taken the chair of the council, even though it should have been Cornelius Fudge as host. Gathered were the entire Black party, Rufus Scrimgeor (chief Auror), and Alastor Moody (former chief Auror) and Amelia Bones (current head of the DMLE).
"There are hundreds dead, this is a disaster, and you people are a part of it." Snarled Cornelius Fudge pointing at Sirius Black angrily.
The Bulgarian minister grunted, and in perfect English that would shock both Crouch and Bagman who were under the impression he spoke nothing but Bulgarian, the Bulgarian Minister began speaking in the slow deliberate way that had voters hanging off his every word.
"I think, if it were not for the children you are trying to punish, there would be several hundred more dead, and at least sixty of them would be children of my country. In Bulgaria, we would be talking about medals, scholarships, and after school mentorships to offer such promising, daring, and caring young witches and wizards." He rumbled seriously.
Fudge was spitting as he answered, his rage too great to control. "Caring? Caring? These children killed dozens of men, some in ways that experienced Aurors were sick from seeing."
Alastor Moody laughed. "Death Eaters, Minister Fudge. Not men. Death Eaters. Didn't make me sick. Gave me a serious hankering for some kebabs, but not sick at all."
Rufus Scrimgeor cut in. "You are not an Auror any more Moody. You forget, this is a nation of laws. We do not kill people, we arrest them, try them, and only if they are found guilty do we punish them."
Sirius Black snorted. "Pull the other one mate. You tossed me in Azkaban without a trial, without even a charge, then put a kiss on sight order on me when it was revealed the guy I went to jail for murdering didn't even die. You ordered the Dementors to suck my soul and kill me beyond even the promise of rebirth rather than admit you ignore your own laws whenever there is some political gain to be had.
Besides, you are allowed to use lethal force in defense of yourself and others. That is part of the basic law of the wizagamot, and part of the ICW charter. The Death Eaters came to kill, and we killed them for it."
Dumbledore tapped his wand to the table and the boom shook all of them to their bones. He put on his most kindly godfather face, and leaned forward, speaking softly.
"Sirius, your influence on these children is a concern. I come to see to the safety of the Boy Who Lived and find him covered in blood, so much blood I cannot even make out the colour of his clothes, and what does he say? He grins and boasts that he cut the rings off their fingers, pouches off their belt, and golden teeth from their jaws after he killed them."
Harry raised his hand. "Point of order, Noodle killed almost half of them, but since he doesn't have a pouch, and I provide for him anyway, he let me keep his loot with mine. Looting your kill is a basic goblin right under the Treaty of Gringots 1474, and as my familiar under wizarding law, that right extends to Noodle."
The Irish Minister shuddered, but the Bulgarian slapped his knee and shouted something to Sirius in Bulgarian.
Sirius leaned over and translated. "The minister says you have big hairy ones a lion couldn't carry, it's a very good Bulgarian compliment."
Dumbledore winced. "Killing is always wrong. If we do not give our enemies a second chance, a chance to admit they were wrong and to become a better person we are no better than Voldemort."
Alastor Moody snorted. "That was what you told the old Order of the Phoenix last war. I think half the living members are in this room. I could count the dead, but I don't have toes on the one side, so taking my boots off won't do it. At least ten of them that I can remember got killed by people we had arrested and thrown in prison. In Dulohov's case twice.
The only reason we didn't lose the bloody war the last time is because Voldemort tried to kill young Harry here as a baby and got his ass handed to him. It was only killing that stopped him then. It won't be second chances and stunners that win it this time either."
Cornelius Fudge snarled at him. "You are no longer an Auror. You are a brutal thug who was tolerated by past administrations out of a misguided sense of gratitude for the last war. You have no right to speak here."
Narcissa smiled her slow Slytherin smile and offered quietly.
"And you will not be Minister of Magic in a week. You have failed to provide security for our own witches and wizards, you have failed to provide security for our guests, and you have attempted to punish those witches and wizards, even the children, who dared to step up and save the lives of those the Death Eaters came to kill.
How many families of the Wizagamot almost lost family today? How many of their daughters and sons only lived to come home because of the people you are shouting at now? I really feel your voting block melting like that fellow Sirius liquified."
Cornelius Fudge shouted back. "A half dozen lords of the wizagamot lie dead in the field, some killed by your precious children."
Sirius shrugged. "Even less votes for you. Cissy is right, your time in office won't outlast the cleanup of this event. It's been a long day, and the kids and I need to get back to the tent."
Sirius and the others rose. Alastor tossed something onto the table in front of Dumbledore. It looked like a badge. He stumped over to Sirius and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Mind if I join you lad? I would love to hear how the night went in more detail. Since the Ministry doesn't want me, and the Order doesn't like my methods, I find myself looking for a more rational group to stand with." Alastor 'Mad Eye' Moody said as he stumped along beside Sirius.
Dumbledore watched him go with a look of quiet rage in his eyes, before the blank and somewhat soft mask of the kindly grandfather slid back down.