A Few Months Before the Lockdown
Festivius's small feet made a soft pattering sound as they scurried along the immaculately polished marble floor of Gringotts Bank. It was his first time visiting this venerable institution, a place built by his ancestors with a history as rich and storied as the treasures it guarded. The air was cool and fresh, a stark contrast to the humid, stale environments he had known.
His previous life had been a far cry from this opulent world. Festivius had spent his days digging in long-forgotten ruins, his nights in frequently leaking tents, and his meals were often little more than stale bread. The clang of large machinery and the oppressive heat had been his constant companions. But here, in the heart of Gringotts, he felt like he had stepped into a paradise. He spun around, taking in the ornate columns, the intricate carvings on the walls, and the efficient, serious-faced goblins attending to their various duties.
In his awestruck wanderings, Festivius's sense of direction failed him. His foot caught on the hem of his robe, and he stumbled forward, colliding with something solid. He looked up, heart hammering, and saw that he had run into the leg of a witch. Her dark robes were stained with mud foot marks and her eyes blazed with irritation as she looked down at him as if he were a pox-ridden dog.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to—" Festivius stammered, his voice trembling. But before he could finish, the witch's glare intensified. With a flick of her wrist, she pulled out her wand and, with a muttered incantation, sent him flying backward. He crashed into a nearby podium.
Festivius saw her wand tip light up again and braced himself for the end. He tried to scramble to his feet, but his limbs felt heavy and uncooperative. Just as the witch raised her wand to cast another spell, an older goblin stepped between them with his hands raised placatingly.
"My deepest apologies, mistress," the older goblin said in a smooth, deferential tone. "The young one meant no harm. I assure you, the Bank of Gringotts will compensate you for any inconvenience, including the ruined dress."
The witch's fury simmered, but she seemed mollified by the older goblin's words. With a haughty huff, she lowered her wand, turned on her heel, and stalked away, her robes swishing behind her.
As she disappeared into the crowd, the older goblin turned to Festivius, who was still sitting on the floor, wincing in pain. The older goblin extended a hand and helped him to his feet, his expression softening slightly. "Get up, son," he demanded, his voice rougher now.
Festivius nodded, rubbing his arm where he'd hit the podium. "Y-yes, sir. Thank you."
The older goblin gave a nod. "You must be new here, but this place is more dangerous than your mines, boy. Be careful."
Festivius nodded again, more vigorously this time. "I will, sir. Thank you." He glanced around, feeling both humbled and grateful. The older goblin gave him a pat on the shoulder before walking off.
Another Goblin approached him, this one was much bigger than Festivius or the older man. He placed a meaty hand on his shoulder and growled, "Festivius?"
Festivius nodded in affirmative before the bigger goblin dragged him through the bank. The security glanced at them but looked away as soon as they saw the face of the bigger goblin. Festivius walked towards the infamous trolley of Gringotts but a big one shook his head and took him in another direction. The goblin took out a necklace linked with a key and inserted it into the air. Festivius raised an eyebrow at the bizarre behavior but choked back his protest as a door soon materialized around the key and unlocked itself.
Without so much a warning, Festivius was dragged and hoisted onto another trolley and set loose. Struggling to hold in his lunch and wanting to scream his lungs out at the same time, Festivius was in limbo. Fortunately, he didn't have to ponder much longer as his trolley ground to a stop some few hundred meters below Earth give or take. Festivius looked at the rocks around him and they looked absolutely ancient. He wondered if even the Muggles with their large machines had managed to mine so deep. Before he could move to take a sample, the large goblin grabbed him again forcibly pushed him into a waterfall, and held him there. After a few seconds, he yanked him out and started physically searching his pockets.
"Oi!" Festivius finally snapped at him, "What's this all about?"
"Making sure you not spy." The older goblin growled and pulled out a pair of calipers from his pockets. He glared at him and Festivius rolled his eyes at the paranoid lunatic.
"It's a measuring instrument, genius. Not a weapon." Festivius said.
"It sharp. Is a blade." The goblin said.
"By the stone." Festivius muttered before breathing deeply and replying, "Keep it. But I will take it back after the meeting!"
He sneered at Festivius and shoved the caliper inside his bag. Festivius was directed towards an atrium and thankfully the big doofus chose to remain outside instead of haranguing him further. He sat in one of the chairs and twiddled his thumbs as he waited. A moment later, a younger goblin in a suit approached him, "Greetings Mr. Festivius. I am Rodwire, aide to the Director Rotfang."
"Uh, I am Festivius." And shook hands with Rodwire.
"The director will see you shortly, Mr. Festivius. However, before you are led into the office, there are some ground rules that need to be followed." Rodwire said.
"I'm listening," Festivius said.
"Anything you hear, say, or do within the room, will stay in the room. Outside the room, your lips should be sealed." Rodwire said, "To ensure compliance, you will be signing a series of charmed documents. Let me assure you, you don't want to find out the consequences of violating these terms."
Festivius paled a bit but nodded. Rodwire soon presented him with a thick stack of scrolls that Festivius signed with a ritual quill.
Setting Things in Motion
Behind the desk sat Director Rotfang, a goblin as mean and old as the stereotypical depiction of a banker. His face was a mask of pale wrinkles, and his eyes were sharp and bloody red. Festivius felt a shiver run down his spine as he stepped into the room, his small frame feeling even smaller under the Director's ominous presence.
He stopped a few feet from the desk and bowed deeply, as tradition dictated.
Rotfang didn't acknowledge Festivius's greeting with the customary response. Instead, he dismissed his aide with a curt wave of his hand, and the aides who had been standing by the door quickly exited the room. The office fell silent for a moment, and then the meeting resumed, with various associates gathering around.
Festivius straightened and tried to make himself inconspicuous, though he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. A tingling sensation crept up the back of his neck, and he glanced towards a corner of the room. There was nothing there, just an empty chair, but the sensation lingered.
"The situation with the war, sir," An associate began, "is progressing favorably. Grindelwald is all but defeated with the success of Operation Unthinkable. Our sources estimate that Berlin will fall within a month and a half."
"The financial status of both the Allied and Axis powers is dire," he reported. "Both sides have borrowed heavily from us, at higher-than-normal interest rates, of course. Typically, reclaiming debts from mages is a challenge; they often renege on agreements. However, the death of Albus Dumbledore has turned out to be a blessing in disguise. With their most vital hope gone, the Allied forces were desperate. They were willing to sign on anything and everything to secure an advantage over Grindelwald. We've managed to secure a significant number of the old families' vaults as collateral for the debts."
Director Rotfang's grin widened into a nasty, satisfied expression. The news was clearly to his liking. However, some at the table still weren't pleased.
"You forget, gentlemen, that the mages still have a considerable magical advantage over us. None of our kind can wield a wand. In an open battlefield, we will be defeated! Then all of us will choke on the gold coins as mages force us into another humiliating surrender." He proclaimed and turned to the Director, "Do you actually have a plan or are we just lambs for slaughter."
The director scowled at him, "Mind your tone, boy. I was fighting against the mage hegemony long before you were born."
"Fighting and losing all the wars." The other goblin shot back and Rotfang bared his teeth at him as if he was a wolf snarling at a challenger.
"The mages have never been this weak before. Goblins from Switzerland, Arabia, and the continent have pledged support to us when we rebel!" A voice said.
"All the more goblins to die in front of the mage's fiendfyre!" Another voice yelled.
"We have been working on battle automatons for nearly a century. We can turn the tide on them!"
"Automatons aren't powerful enough!"
"They work for muggles. They should be good for us!"
Director Rotfang tried to regain control of the meeting by smashing his gravel against the table as hard as possible, but it was to no avail. Fesitivius looked around anxiously, the sheer anarchy was getting to him now. It was as if the air around the chair shimmered and fell like a curtain to reveal several goblins in iron-clad armor standing in a protective circle around a throne. Their leader took a heavy pole and slammed its rear into the ground. The others followed and the room was awash with sounds of a metal gong.
The room fell silent as they recognized the design of the guards' armor.
"The royal guard!" One of the associates whispered in panic. The guard then parted to reveal a goblin whose meanness even eclipsed that of the Director.
"Your majesty!" Rotfang gasped and fell to the floor in a deep bow. The others followed suit and soon the entire room fell silent.
"You disappoint me, my children." King Grimmaw spoke, and the goblins quivered. "Such pitifully amusing displays are most suited for the Wizengamot. Not a war council."
He glanced towards where Festivius was sitting and he almost felt his soul evaporate, "What examples are you setting for the young goblin kind, Rotfang."
Rotfang stuttered out a dozen apologies amidst, "My liege, I didn't know you would be visiting the surface world! It's not safe, give me a few moments and I will have accommodations prepped befitting your status."
"Silence Director. The meeting has yet to reach its crux. There are two participants who have yet to speak, no?" Grimmaw said. "Viktor?"
The Goblin Viktor straightened up.
"How goes our outreach mission?" The King asked.
"It goes well, my liege. Croaker has vowed full but discreet support for our cause should we provide him with the necessary materials to open the astral doorways. In fact, one of our mining leads, Festivus, is present here."
Festivus gulped before speaking, "Our team has been digging around Tibet for the last six months. Luckily, the wars in the muggle and magical worlds have provided us with the perfect distractions to proceed. Neither side is too interested in what happens there."
The King nodded in understanding.
"There was a run-in with an errant muggle German contingent earlier during the operation. An organization by the name of SS but they were adequately dispatched and didn't prove much trouble. At 10:00 AM Wednesday, we stumbled upon our goal. You will be proud to know my lord, that we have successfully located and excavated the Gates of Ahriman." Festivus said.
There was a murmur amongst the attendees.
"We can't access the other outer realms without the keys." One of the others said.
"That is precisely where the Department of Mysteries comes in," Viktor said. "They have the key. We have the gate. Neither is useful without the other."
"We can't possibly trust Croaker to honor his word. He will steal the key and the gate the moment he gets the opportunity." A goblin raged but withered under the king's glare.
"Your concerns are noted. We can trust Croaker as far as we can throw him." Viktor said. "But we do not have the magical expertise that the mages have nor can we operate the key on our own. However, there is a catch here. We don't need Croaker's key."
"W-what?" Rotfang asked.
"It isn't our intention to either communicate or release Azazel. The Goblin nations have acquired a key for another watcher that is much more aligned with our purpose. All we have to do is wait for adequate magic to gather amongst the gate's runes and crystals." Viktor said. "Meanwhile, we will leak the necessary information to the Ministry so they can act against the department. When the time is right, our operatives will swoop in and steal the gate."
"W-who is the new watcher?" A goblin asked.
"Someone trustworthy who has advocated for the interest of our kind since the younger days," Grimmaw said. "In exchange for its freedom, he has promised to restore our magical cores and undo the great damage unto it."
He got up from his throne and the goblins cowered at his approach, "Make no mistake, gentlemen, freedom for our kind has never been so close and yet so far. This has been the greatest advantage we have had in centuries."
He turned and met the eyes of every single one of the attendants, "I will tolerate no failure. I will not tolerate dissent or petty infighting. If my orders aren't followed, I will not hesitate to have you and your family flayed in front of the entire Kingdom."
"We will not fail you, your majesty." Rotfang. "May death claim us before such dishonor."
Grimmaw nodded at that and continued, "For far too long the Goblins have lived in fear. In fear of Mage wands. In fear of Muggle swords. In fear of the wider world. After centuries of humiliation, fate has finally given our kind the God and king it needs to go into a new age."
One of the soldiers stepped forward and unfolded a tapestry.
"Hail to the Annatar! Hail to the great deliverer! Hail to the Grimmaw dynasty!" The soldiers chanted in unison.
No Loyalty Amongst Thieves
Modern Times
The sky crackled and rippled, a portal tore open inside the sky and the woman fell through. She landed in a vast field with blooming flowers under darkening clouds. Still shaken from her dreadful ordeal, Kendra glanced about to see if any of her pursuers followed. Only wildflowers greeted her in turn. She glanced at the now dead portkey in her hand. A part of a pact with the Unspeakables in case any of their factions were near death. When under Grindelwald, she had always expected Croaker would be the one who pulled at the portkey first.
In a hundred years, she never would have figured that she would be the one who sought refuge from her British pursuers right in their homeland. She didn't dare report back to the main coven after her monumental failures in Germany and Britain. She had lost Dumbledore's body and with it the potent blood supply to the grand elders. And with Gellert Grindelwald far beyond her reach, she had tried on the last gambit.
The Petrov boy's blood memories were somehow under a protective spell. Tried as she could, but she just couldn't figure out a counter-course. However, she had caught glimpses. The Petrov boy's will was indomitable and he had some crazy ideas. Within the madness, she had caught glimpses of his belief in the strength of the witch, Morrigan Gaunt. Seeking her as an adequate replacement for the creatures, Kendra plotted a scheme to have her delivered to her. That had failed spectacularly.
The witch was far more skilled than she could have ever imagined. At just the tail end of her teenage years, the witch had bested the Albus Dumbledore in single combat. And worse, she had taken the Petrov boy before she could figure out the pattern behind his maddening visions.
A quick execution would have been a mercy for her failures, all things considered.
She shuddered as she imagined the various sights and sounds that haunted the deep dungeons of Giovannis. She knew what caused them, after all, she was responsible for many of them. She had tried getting in touch with her "lover", Julius but he too had gone rogue. She suspected that he had approached the Department before
A series of cracking sounds went off around her and mages appeared all around them. Kendra was relieved to see the sigil of the Department of the Mysteries on their chests.
She raised a hand to hail them, "Unspeakables! I reserve the right of safe passage granted by the charter of-"
Her speech was cut off as a series of stunners struck her, knocking the wind out of her. A volley of petrifying curses paralyzed her and soon environments were transfigured into chains that bound her.
The Department of The Mysteries
"Ah," Croaker said, "Welcome to my humble abode, Miss Dumbledore."
The usually coy woman looked haggard as she was dragged inside by the chains binding her. She glared at Croaker but still had enough sense of decorum to keep her head high and stare down at him from her nose.
"The hospitality of the Department is certainly lacking these days, Master Croaker," Kendra said and Croaker chuckled at that.
"I'm afraid hospitality is in short supply right now. Especially when two of the dominant powers of Europe are now closing in our doors." Croaker said. "From the left, Grindelwald burns down our sanctuaries in mainland Europe. On the other hand, the ministry has all but regained control of Britain. What neither side doesn't know is Nicholas Flamel hunting us from the dark depths."
"Oh please." Kendra snorted. "You have always run roughshod above any sort of ministerial Inquisition. You will live."
"I am afraid the time for hiding behind political intrigue and cloak and shadows has long passed, Miss Dumbledore." Croaker, "Your failure in neutralizing either the Flamels or Grindelwald has cost us everything."
Kendra opened her mouth for another snarky reply, but nothing came out. She tried to speak again but still no sound.
"No, Kendra, just no." Croaker said as he shook his finger in front of her, "You have spoken your last. I am done being led by my nose for your insolence."
He pointed his wand at her and muttered, "It's time to teach you some humility that your cuckolded husband was too tame to do."
Kendra glared at him defiantly in his eyes but couldn't last. The fires of the cruciatus spreading inside her were too deep and too intense. Her muscles spasmed, her eyes bled with red tears, and inevitably she bared her fangs and howled in empty pain. Unable to keep herself seated; Kendra collapsed on her knees in agony.
"There, at your knees and on the ground, a proper place for a leech like you." Croaker mocked. Kendra didn't reply as the pain was still too raw to respond to petty mockery. In the background, Croaker barked a series of orders that sounded incoherent right now. The guard entered the office again and dragged her outside.
"Prepare the ritual immediately. It's only a matter of time before the ministry strikes us." Croaker barked and people scattered to follow his command.
Ritual Chamber
Kendra was dragged through the chamber and couldn't help but marvel at the grand design of the ritual chamber. The chamber was massive with a domed roof of stained glass depicting moments from the age of legends. Crystal-like water fell from grand waterfalls whose vapors cooled the massive room. Large golden statues and charmed cherubs flew all over the hall. Yet despite the various charms' efforts to pull the participants in a lull of religious ecstasy the sheer panic in the chamber was hard to overcome.
An unspeakable marched up to him and spoke, "Master Croaker! Levels 1 and 2 have fallen! The army has surrounded the ministry building!"
Croaker angrily dismissed him with a glare and ordered his henchmen to prepare faster. The chanting of the mages below them got louder and more frantic as they swung into a trance. A few of the mages broke free from the dance and giggled hysterically as they dragged various weeping magical creatures from their cages. A centaur girl wailed in agony as a witch dragged a dagger over her throat and blood spewed forth on the floor. The runes glowed in brighter colors and changed shapes into languages long dead. The earth shook in response and the religious chanting grew even more fanatical.
From another large cage, children clad in Hogwarts robes yelled at the macabre display below and begged to be let go. The witch only laughed hysterically in response to their misery.
Kendra was dragged over the main bridge with blood pools on either side and that suspiciously smelt very fresh to her enhanced nose. Yet her attention was caught by the two massive pillars ahead of her. A glimmering sheen of magic flittered between the two pillars.
For a moment, the sheen turned pitch black and a massive slitted eye glared from the outside. In the blink of an eye, it was over, and the normal sheen of magic returned to it. However, Kendra could have sworn on Caine himself at the moment that she saw a massive demonic eye stare at her. She turned to Croaker whose eyes turned upwards and he smiled at Kendra in silent acknowledgment.
"Y-you!" She hysterically whispered, "You completed Ahriman's gate?!"
"Come now, vampire – do you honestly think you are the only authority on ancient myths and legends?" Croaker said. "The department has more friends than you would realize."
At that, a series of black-clad goblins emerged carrying various jewels with them. Kendra glared at those impish abominations before straining against her restraints. Come what may, she would resist till the last drop of blood in her body evaporated.
"Ah look now, Kendra. You won't be sacrificed alone." Croaker said and a pale blonde woman bound to a cross slowly levitated in front of the gate. "Our dear old Mrs. Flamel whom you lost in the pyramids will be joining us. Lovely how diverse alliances can help in overcoming unknown magic, no?"
Kendra said nothing but grit her teeth as her blood magic railed against the constraints. Croaker's smugness was soon knocked off as a runner came into the room and yelled, "The ministry has taken over the hall of the prophecies and solar rooms!"
Panic spread amongst the ranks and the ritual chanting stopped. A witch tried to make a run for it.
"Avada Kadevra!" Croaker roared and she fell dead alongside the chatter in the room.
"We are in far too deep. We either live together or we die together." Croaker announced. "Continue the ritual. Your lives depend on it!"
The chanting began anew but with more hesitation and lackluster harmony, infuriating Croaker to no end. Suddenly, a massive explosion rocked the rooftop of the ritual hall and a massive heap of debris fell all over. Somebody said a spell and every light orb in the room went dark. Only the natural light falling from the cracks in the wall was a source of illumination. The veteran unspeakables rushed to their feet to meet the invaders head-on. A sigil formed in the opened crack and fireballs descended from it with a frightening velocity. They smashed all over the chamber, caring for neither friend nor foe and caused massive explosions all over. Several of the unspeakables were instantly incinerated and those that remained sought cover under the rubble.
"Nox maxima!" the voice said, and darkness spread over the entire chamber. Neither side saw a bunch of goblins put on invisibility cloaks and rush towards the gate. Nor did they see a vampire laughing at her broken chains and turning invisible before running. An inhospitable darkness soon descended on the room but that was no trouble for a vampire of her caliber.
She locked in on her target and decided to leave Croaker with one last present. Morphing her hands into claws, she broke apart Perenelle's chains and dragged her by the hair to the exit.
The only thing on Perenelle's cross was a message in blood stating, "Au Revoir – Kendra."
Ministerial Force
The Ministry Building
Morrigan wasn't aware whether she should scowl annoyedly at the events or revel in the joy of the battle. Despite her explicit advice, Minister Bones changed the decision and ordered to attack on the ministry. The vampire Harry had captured had spilled a lot more than he let on to protect his own hide. Pity he still got executed for it.
As such, the official ministry army had decided to launch an all-out invasion. Mortimer was leading one against whatever rabble had been installed as a dictator over them post-Greengrass assassination. Meanwhile, Morrigan was to lead her division and storm the Department of Mysteries. General Slughorn had stated that they were conducting a dark ritual that must be stopped at all costs. No further information about the said ritual had been shared with her.
She pouted before nodding at Cassie to launch the attack. The Unspeakables might have expected them to go through the doors or try to keep it "civil". She didn't have such delusions. Nowhere in her orders was it stated that the integrity of the building was vital to the success of her operations. So, when the building's rocks were glistening with raw magic, indicating there was heavy ward activity inside, she simply ordered the walls torn down.
Or better yet, the walls were blown inside with shaped charges to ensure the bulk of the debris was tossed inside. A dust storm settled on the defenders inside and army witches flew above on brooms lobbing potions encased in glass grenades. Soon the building was enveloped with a poisonous green mist that simply choked the life out of the defenders.
Morrigan looked up as a vortex of wind appeared that sucked all the green smoke away. Morrigan pouted again, "Clearly, they have some life in them. Cassie, forward!"
The troops saluted and stormed the building from the front and above.
"Remember! They are expecting us! Stay sharp and watch each other's backs." Abraxas commanded as the troops ran in disciplined ranks.
"Aye aye, Captain." Christopher Weasley shouted back.
"Stormers upfront!" Chris shouted, "Shielders at the back. Keep us safe lads!". The soldiers advanced, the front line raising their wands to dispel the first layer of wards. A cascade of protective enchantments shimmered and broke, revealing the traps hidden beneath. A gout of flame erupted from the ground, narrowly missing a young witch, who quickly countered with a water spell. Another soldier deftly dismantled a series of hexed runes that would have immobilized them.
Their shields rippled as the Unspeakables and their thralls from the inside fired at them. A shield faltered under the strain of a neon purple spell, striking one of the storming wizards. He cried and fell as his skin started peeling off. Sensing the hole in their formations, a series of bombardas struck and raced towards the hole before the shields were raised again and they collided harmlessly. A squad of healers apparated in their midst and dragged the screaming private away. The formation didn't stop. The show will go on, come what may.
"Steady, everyone," Christopher called out, his voice cutting through the din. "We've got the numbers. Keep pushing forward!"
Slowly the army advanced, securing chokepoints and firing at the Unspeakables from their blind spots. Although they were more skilled in spellcasting, each unspeakable fought as a lone warrior. Meanwhile, the army fought with discipline, making effective use of terrain and squad tactics. A tapestry of combined wand fire greeted the unspeakables. Fire and thunder raced ahead toward the unspeakables whose own spells were countered by the shielders found their wands to be duds. Several were incinerated or cut down to deadly effect.
"Give me wind," Christopher shouted and several wands raised to provide him with a strong gust of wind. Christoper grinned held a wand tip near the torrent and whispered, "Incendio."
A massive gust of controlled fire slammed into the Unspeakables who held under shields. Meanwhile, several squads flanked them and shouted at once, "Bombarda!"
A massive explosion rocked the central atrium as the curses converged at a focal point. The crackling sound of the fire was the only sound in the atrium as the last of the defenders fell. The various privates glanced at each other in silent awe of what they had accomplished.
"Bravo, lads!" Christopher said.
"Captain Malfoy, we have the main building." Christopher communicated to Abraxas.
"Hold and secure." Was the only response back before a muffled, "Good work, Weasley."
Soon reports started coming off from all divisions.
"Wizengamot secured!"
"Department of transport secured!"
"DMLE and Magical creatures wing secured!"
"Communications wing secured!" "Foreign Ministry secured!"
Command Tent
Morrigan giggled at Harry's bewilderment through their mutual expression as he heard Abraxas complement Weasley. Morrigan now understood much of Harry's odd behavior around Malfoy having been acquainted with his past life. She restrained herself from laughing aloud as Harry declared that hell must have frozen over first before a Malfoy would complement a Weasley.
Speak of the devil. Morrigan thought as Abraxas stepped up and saluted, "Major Morrigan. All ministry wings have been secured. The troops are gathering outside the Department of Mysteries as we speak."
Morrigan nodded and dismissed him, but Malfoy remained and awkwardly shifted on his feet. Morrigan sighed before annoyedly asking, "Captain?"
"We suffered minimal casualties in the attack, Major." Malfoy started.
"A most excellent job. I will be sure to write a citation to the General. Anything else?" Morrigan said.
"The Department of Mysteries has yet to be taken. It is their final bastion. We don't know what's down there….." Malfoy trailed off.
"Make your point, Captain," Morrigan demanded.
"It would mean a lot if you were to accompany the troops on this final attack." He spoke. "We will minimize casualties and retain much of the soldiers for advances elsewhere."
Morrigan stared at him blankly while Malfoy sweated.
No way. Just no way. Harry said. A Malfoy caring about others? Hell, truly has frozen over.
Struggling not to smile, "Rest easy, captain. Neither you nor the troops will be advancing into the department. You will follow our footsteps and secure the stragglers."
Malfoy straightened up at that, "I never meant to shirk my duties, major! We can still fight! We just-"
"I am not questioning the army's bravery captain," Morrigan said as she shook a wineglass and Malfoy could've sworn, he saw an eyeball in it glare at him.
"It's just that a certain Chimera wants to play," Morrigan said and sipped. "Shy creatures they are… they prefer playing alone rather than in full view of others."
A hot breath caressed his ear and Malfoy felt fangs nibble at his ear. He jumped around to see it was just his imagination. He turned back to look at Morrigan who only knowingly smiled at him.
The Carnage
The Unspeakables hid beside the 10,000-door corridor trap of the legendary hallway of the Department of Mysteries. A dozen of the most veteran killers stood ready to annihilate any who dared to intrude upon their great works.
The main door opened, and they simultaneously launched a dozen killing curses at it but they collided with nothingness. There was no target present.
"Keep your nerves, dears" The lead unspeakable intoned and all nodded. Out of a sudden, all the 10,000 doors rapidly opened and slammed shut. The massive amplitude disoriented several Unspeakables as they fell to their knees, clutching their eyes.
"Silencio!" One of the witches managed to roar and as she pointed her wand to the massive roof. The noise fell silent. The leader nodded in appreciation to the witch who nodded back. Several orbs of light across the room then started to flicker uncontrollably, casting shadows and creating blind spots. As if things couldn't get worse, the very ground seemed to rebel against them.
One of the Unspeakable, a wiry man with a perpetual scowl, felt an odd sensation in his feet. He looked down in confusion as his boots slowly lifted off the ground. His eyes widened in alarm as he realized he was beginning to float.
He reached out instinctively, trying to grab onto something, anything, to anchor himself. His fingers brushed against the wall, and he managed to grip a sconce protruding from it. "We're losing gravity!" he shouted, his voice edged with panic.
The others turned to look at him, their expressions shifting from confusion to alarm as they noticed the man's feet several inches off the floor. The realization struck them all at once, and they began to feel the strange sensation of weightlessness. The room seemed to tilt, the light orbs flickering wildly, adding to the disorientation.
Panic spread through the ranks. A few Unspeakables frantically cast spells, trying to regain control. The more experienced ones quickly cast sticky charms on themselves, adhering to the walls or the floor. A veteran with a scar across his cheek gripped a column tightly, his face pale but composed. He muttered instructions to the others, trying to maintain order amidst the chaos.
Yet it was hard to listen.
"Stick to the walls! Secure yourselves!" His voice was authoritative, cutting through the rising panic. He pointed his wand at the drifting Unspeakable, casting a spell to bring him back down. The witch was pulled back to the floor, where she quickly cast a sticky charm to anchor herself.
Some of the light orbs went out entirely, plunging parts of the corridor into darkness. The air grew thick with tension and fear. Those who hadn't secured themselves in time were now floating helplessly, bumping into one another on the ceiling.
*CRUNCH*
Without warning, the gravity seemed to reverse itself. Those who were floating were suddenly slammed back down to the ground with a bone-jarring force. Several of their bones were shattered and skulls squelched with a sickening sound. The Unspekables fired off many spells in all directions. Some were for detection; some were for obliteration. None of them were successful in striking their ambusher.
Only five remained conscious, clinging to the walls or floor with a perfect blend of desperate intensity and insanity.
Out of a primal desire for safety, the remaining 5 Unspeakables huddled together – seeking strength in numbers. One of the unspeakables summoned a bubble around them that levitated them in the air, protecting them from the anomalous gravity plaguing them.
However, that was not the end of the madness.
A chilling voice echoed through the corridor, addressing one of the Unspeakables by name. It was the voice of a little girl, filled with innocent longing. "Mommy! Come play with me... I've been waiting for you..."
"Sophia?!" The witch gasped, "B-but b-"
"You sacrificed me, mommy! You said I was naughty and hurt me with the knife on the altar!" Sophia whined, "I was going to be a good girl, Mommy. I won't wet the bed ever again."
"Sophia." The witch said again and a door opened near her.
"But I am all right again Mommy! I am right here Mommy! Please come get me!" Sophia whined.
"Ignore it!" the leader barked, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. "It's not real. Focus on the mission!"
But the disembodied voices continued, each one addressing an Unspeakable with a personal, intimate tone. A soft whisper called out to another, a voice filled with sorrow and longing. "My love... I miss your warmth. Come join me..."
The leader, gritting his teeth in frustration, tried to rally them. "Do not succumb! These are illusions, tricks meant to break us! Stay strong!"
"MOMMY!"
"If you leave the bubble, I won't be able to hold it!" Another unspeakable scream but to no avail. The witch jumped out of the protection of the bubble and floated towards the empty door. Right behind her, a young man followed to reach his lost wife. As soon as they neared the door, a pair of massive, clawed hands grabbed them by their necks and yanked them inside. The poor angle of their line of sight prevented them from seeing inside the room but that did nothing to hinder the sounds of the carnage.
The remaining unspeakables could only watch in horror as a tiger's roar echoed through the room followed by the sound of flesh being torn apart. A witch screamed but those were cut short. The remaining three unspeakables exchanged looks and shook their heads. The decapitated head of the witch floated outside with her eyeballs gauged out. It harmlessly bumped against the bubble, but all 6 eyes were locked in on it.
The empty sockets started back at them; the mouth locked in a forever scream of torment.
"Fuck it. If it wants to play, two can tango." Their leader spat, "Sheamus, cover m-"
His words were cut short when a massive creature slammed into their cocoon and clawed at it. The bubble didn't have enough mages supporting it so it collapsed. The leader rallied first and yelled, "Crucio!"
It struck the creature straight in the back. Instead of torturing it, it endured it like nothing. The unspeakable nearest to it was torn into pieces by the large claws while its massive fangs enveloped another neck entirely.
"AVADA KADEVRA!" The lead roared and a curse sailed right through the lead wizard. The image of the wendigo immediately vanished, leaving the last unspeakable standing in a lone dark room.
"What the hell?!" He roared, "Lumos!"
The wand became alit and the unspeakable wished he hadn't done that for before him stood the massive wendigo, towering over him.
"Fuck." He muttered in resignation as a massive hand wrapped around his wand's tip broke it. Another clawed hand ripped through his chest and pulled out the still-beating heart.
The man simply fell over and died.
Accounts Payable
Kendra hauled Perenelle on her shoulder and ran desperately through a long-forgotten lab that was filled with detritus of magical duels. In only a few minutes, she would quietly slip out of the ministry premises and establish contact with Nicholas Flamel.
Wife for her life. She thought it sounded quite witty in her head when the thought first came to her. She opened the exit door and smugly closed it behind her. Unfortunately, that triggered some sort of defense mechanism and the thousands of doors in the hallway scrambled amongst themselves. She cursed Croaker's paranoia and looked around. Seeing no clear option, she leaped but fell as her feet refused to budge. Perenelle's body rolled off her shoulder and fell somewhere in the darkness.
Kendra cursed under her breath as she struggled to free herself from the sticky web ensnaring her foot. The webs were unlike anything she'd encountered before—stronger, more resilient, and laced with a faint magical energy that made her skin crawl. As she yanked her leg free, the sound of skittering feet echoed through the hallway, growing louder and more menacing.
Kendra's preternatural senses screamed danger, but she couldn't leave without Perenelle. She scanned the darkened corridor, her eyes piercing through the gloom, but Perenelle was nowhere to be seen. Panic flared in her chest, and she reached out with her heightened senses, trying to locate her hostage. The darkness around her seemed to pulse with an unnatural presence, suffocating and oppressive. Even her vampire instincts, honed over centuries, couldn't fully penetrate the murky blackness.
A faint glimmer caught her eye, and she spotted more spider webs glistening in the dim light. Her heart sank as she realized the extent of the trap Croaker had laid. The labyrinthian maze of shifting walls and sticky webs was designed to confuse and entrap intruders, and it was working all too well. Kendra steeled herself, knowing she had to find Perenelle and escape before it was too late. Her fate depended on it.
She moved cautiously, avoiding the webs as best she could, but the walls seemed to close in around her, shifting and reshaping the path. The skittering sound grew louder and more frantic, and Kendra felt a shiver of dread crawl up her spine. Her battle instincts screamed again as she jumped away from her current location only to see a massive spider crash where she was before. The creature turned to face her again.
A set of many eyes greeted her and Kendra desperately reigned in her panic.
The spider lunged again, its legs moving with blinding speed. Kendra dodged to the side, barely avoiding the creature's grasp. She slashed with her claws, aiming for the spider's vulnerable eyes, but the creature was faster than she anticipated. It reared back, spraying a thick web of silk toward her. Kendra twisted and rolled, narrowly avoiding the sticky strands, but the maneuver left her dangerously close to another web knot behind her.
With a snarl, she leaped forward, driving one of her daggers into the spider's leg. The creature let out a piercing screech, recoiling in pain. Kendra used the opportunity to free herself from the webbing, but the spider was relentless. It lunged again, and this time, its leg caught her around the waist, slamming her into the wall. The impact knocked the wind out of her, and she felt the cold, sticky embrace of the web wrap around her body.
Before she could move again the spider raised its stinger and slammed down into her abdomen. The wind was knocked out of her, and pain flared through every possible nerve she had. Kendra roared in a silent scream, but the pain was so intense that she wasn't even allowed the luxury of screaming.
The spider's pincers clicked menacingly as it drooled at its feet but a presence from behind her emerged and something akin to a panic was visible in its eyes as it scurried away. For a brief moment, Kendra felt relief through her pain as she imagined reinforcements. However, the hope was dashed as soon as it came.
A 9-foot-tall horned monstrosity emerged in front of her eyes with a very familiar scent. Kendra instantly knew who it was.
"You are…. Beautiful…." She gasped out, "My son..free me…"
The wendigo tilted its head to his side as if amused by her comments. It raised one knife hand shoved it into her chest and ripped her heart out. Kendra's eyes widened in horror as she realized the end was now truly inevitable. Blood tears escaped her, but the wendigo was relentless and tore her apart, limb from limb.
That was for Albus.. The Wendigo whispered.
Back At the Ritual Chamber
Present Hour
The darkness soon shrouded the entirety of the room and Croaker raged against it. Every instinct in him roared at him to let loose with fiendfyre but he didn't want to disturb the ritual setting. Not that the darkness hadn't left much to be seen in the first place.
All around him, people screamed and then suddenly went silent.
A voice from somewhere beyond mocked them, "Jugular, Liver, Neck, or Legs. Your call, I take them."
Croaker transfigured several dozen rubble piles near him into stone golems and gathered them around himself. A series of maddening chittering sounds went all around him and Croaker fired counter curse after counter curse into the darkness to no avail. He felt the air behind him shift and tried to apparate away, but a hand grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. Croaker felt a blade slip into his lungs and then his feet pattered away into the darkness again.
He gasped on his knees as blood pooled in his lungs and the creature seemed to mock him again. Croaker raised his wand in defiance, "Fiend-"
The wand was ripped from his arm and cluttered away.
"Do it!" Croaker roared, "Finish it!"
There was a brief silence as the dark fog merely floated before his vision.
"No." A voice answered back. "Did you honestly think your end would be swift and lenient?"
Several voices mimicked from the dark whom Croaker recognized. They were all people he had used as pawns and sacrificed at the altar of his ambition.
"Master Croaker, we are with you till the end!"
"Director Croaker, you are a proud asset of the Ministry!"
"We have got your back, brother."
Croaker snarled at them, "I did what was necessary. I did what needed to be done. Can you say the same creature?"
Croaker's eyes widened as a young boy, barely 20, emerged from the shadows with a wand held at his side. Croaker's cheeks blushed with burning humiliation. He was expecting a horrid creature or even a grizzled Auror, but to be humiliated by a welp as young as this? Unacceptable.
"More than you can ever imagine, Director," Harry replied. "Death is too easy for you."
He leveled his wand at his body and whispered, "Incarcerous."
"You will confess your sins. And when I believe you have repented sufficiently, then and only then you have my permission to die." Harry said.
Fin
Author Notes: Sorry for the delay in this. Stuff just not been good irl so yeah. Anyhow, I hoped you enjoyed this detailed exploration of a wendigo's abilities. I look forward to y'all comments on this. Lemme know if you have any expectations from it.
Up next, "The Battle for Britain".