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Power Plays Chapter 50
🕑 Added 2025-01-08 16:59:00 +0000 UTCAN: I can't believe that we're already at chapter 50 of this story already! I'd like to thank you all for your support throughout its run!
February will feature the end of Part 2 of this story. Afterwards, I may take a short break from it before returning to write the 3rd and final part of Power Plays.
I hope you all enjoy this chapter and the ones to come!
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St Mungo’s was in a state of chaos.
Through the shredded corridors and whirlwind-destroyed rooms that remained, Harry couldn’t find a single sign of Astoria, Tracey, or anyone else that Daphne loved. There were a few bodies lingering about, but none of them had the same magical signature that Harry had come to recognise.
Even this brief moment of respite was still tinged with grief. Although those closest to him hadn’t been caught up in the attack, there were still plenty of unaccounted for dead. Aurors, medical staff, and Hit Witches and Wizards swarmed the grounds as they tried to take account of all that had been lost.
It was a brutal sight, one that Harry rarely sent any of his inexperienced Aurors into. He’d worried about Gabrielle’s reaction, but she’d managed to maintain a calm collective about herself.
Still, he wondered if she’d vomit after this all ended like so many other Aurors did. Until one had been exposed to mass-casualty events like this, it was impossible to determine how they’d react to them.
“He’s not here anymore,” Gabrielle muttered under her breath.
The Aurors that Tonks had sent were doing their job in examining the place, but nothing unusual from their perspective had arisen quite yet. It would take time to analyse everything, but Harry already noticed the signs of one of Emile’s monstrosities rampaging through the hospital.
“No, he’s not,” Harry agreed, already lost in thought. “There are millions of places he could be by now, but we need to find where he is. What was it that he said when he fled?”
Harry already knew the words, but hearing someone else repeat them allowed him to examine them from a different angle. It didn’t make sense, and yet it did.
“You’ll pay for this, Potter,” Gabrielle repeated morosely. “I’ll burn away all of your happiness until you’re left with nothing but ashes.”
Harry hummed as she repeated the words.
“Do you think he’s after your family?” Gabrielle asked tentatively.
His family? The Weasleys? Hermione? Daphne? The Malfoys?
There were quite a few options to consider, and yet Harry felt like he knew instinctively what the man was on about. Emile had worked alongside Cyrus for months now; he was bound to know where Greengrass Manor was, and to expect Daphne to be around there.
“Take my hand,” Harry said as he offered Gabrielle his arm.
Gabrielle latched onto him instantly, and Harry twisted in place as he apparated away to the English countryside.
When he arrived at Greengrass Manor, he almost felt disappointed that it appeared to be perfectly alright. It wasn’t that he wished any harm upon Daphne or Anastasia, but the fact that it was untouched left him with too many unknowns for his liking.
“They aren’t here,” Harry grumbled beneath his breath.
A moment later, Hobsy appeared directly in front of him.
“Welcome home, Lord Potter,” Hobsy exclaimed jubilantly. “Lady Greengrass isn’t home yet, but I can—”
“Do you know where she is?” Harry interjected sharply.
Hobsy came up short, stunned by Harry’s tone. “She’s at Malfoy Mano—”
Harry was already apparating away with Gabrielle in tow before Hobsy could finish her sentence.
Malfoy Manor was almost unrecognisable upon Harry’s arrival. The gates that guarded the laneway were absolutely shattered, laying in sharp, tiny pieces upon the ground. The hedges that lined the way to the entrance to the manor were alight with flames, which Gabrielle promptly began putting out.
Harry paid little mind to all of that though. His ears picked up upon the distant sounds of screams coming from within the manor, and he took off at a run before Gabrielle could stop him.
“Harry!” She cried out, but he didn’t hesitate for a moment.
The front doors to the manor were smashed in, letting Harry leap inside without any issue. The front foyer was nearly untouched, but he heard Narcissa’s screams coming from directly ahead.
“Hold on!” Harry shouted as he charged forward, his wand at the ready.
As he burst into the large sitting room, he witnessed Narcissa being flung into a nearby column next to a fireplace. Her back cracked painfully against the sharp brick edge before she crumpled to the floor, entirely unmoving.
A beast that was reminiscent of a werewolf stood before Harry. Its hunched back and twisted fangs stood starkly against its otherwise human-like frame, but it roared like a dragon. The canvases upon the walls and upholstery on the furniture were torn to shreds from the creature’s claws. Said claws were like long blades attached to hands that were no bigger than Harry’s. In fact, the entire beast was slightly smaller than Harry was. Its hair-covered body was clearly muscular, and it led up to a werewolf-like face that snarled in anger at the sound of Harry and Gabrielle’s approach.
The monstrosity turned upon Harry, ready to unleash its terrible fury, but Harry was faster.
The Blasting Curse caught the monster unaware. The werewolf-human was sent flying across the room, and half-a-second later, thick tree roots shot out of the wooden floor and wrapped around the creature’s limbs.
“Keep him contained,” Harry ordered Gabrielle.
“I’ve got him,” she replied, her wand remaining steady as she kept the roots in place.
Harry stormed right up to the beast and grabbed him by the throat. “Where is Emile?” He demanded.
The beast unleashed a cry that resembled a bird’s now. It sounded so unique compared to the dragon-like roar from before that it was hard to believe that it came from the same creature. The sound waves were enough to send Harry’s hair flying backwards, but he withstood the force of the scream.
“Search the manor,” Harry told Gabrielle as he conjured a silver blade in his off hand.
The werewolf-human screamed at him again, but Harry slit its throat before it could attempt anything else. Its limbs thrashed within its bonds, but Gabrielle maintained her control over the roots that kept it in place.
“I’ll take the front side of the manor,” Harry said aloud. He turned back towards Gabrielle. “You take the back staircase. Head towards the far end of the manor, and then turn left once you reach the glass doors that lead out into the gardens. Then you need to sweep the upper floor. I’ll meet up with you near the centre point of the upstairs.”
“Understood, sir,” Gabrielle barked in reply, easily falling into her role as an Auror.
Harry gave her a nod before looking back at the werewolf-human. The creature was still trying to stem the flow of blood from its throat, but Harry couldn’t find any sympathy for it. Even if Emile had created this thing to hunt down his enemies, it had come after Harry’s family, and that meant that it was undeserving of any leniency for its behaviour. Its miserable death was more than it deserved.
As the creature began to sag to the floor, Harry turned back away from it. He met Gabrielle’s eyes, trying to let her know just how important this mission was as he sprinted past her.
The sounds of battle reverberated through the manor. Harry listened as closely as he could over his panting breath and thundering footsteps. He could make out two distinct fights going on.
Gabrielle could take care of herself, he kept repeating in his mind. She wouldn’t be another Susan.
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Six hooves stomped on the floor overhead as a man screamed. The sounds of flesh being pulverised beneath the heavy blows were disgusting, but that was nothing compared to the agony that the man suffering such an attack must be feeling.
Gabrielle knew that she could do this. In the catacombs beneath Paris, she’d fought off Emile’s monstrosities, and she would do it again to protect Harry’s family. After all, he’d do nothing less for her.
“Get off me!” A man shouted, his speech slurred.
At the top of the staircase, Gabrielle found the man trapped beneath a twisted-looking centaur. Anything human from the creature had been removed and was instead replaced with the head of a griffin that had been stitched onto the horse flesh. An extra pair of legs had been stitched on too with pulsing veins extending out of them that then stabbed into the belly of the centaur to reattach to the circulatory system somewhere within the creature.
The bloody and bruised man beneath the creature seemed familiar to Gabrielle, but she forced that thought to the back of her mind as she jabbed forward with her wand.
It was funny how a simple cleaning charm could be so effective against a creature like this. Gabrielle conjured thick sponges covered in slippery soap and set them to work with her charm. The sponges instantly went for the bottom of the centaur’s hooves and started scrubbing away. The next time the centaur’s hooves stepped onto the wooden floor, they slid out, leaving the creature vulnerable to a Blasting Curse from Gabrielle.
The eagle-like head screeched as it went sliding along the floor uncontrollably. Gabrielle directed the sponges to make the ground slick enough to cause the creature to continue to slide out until it smashed into some jagged bits of wood sticking out around a hole in the floor. The centaur screeched again as its flesh was pierced by the wood.
“Are you okay?” Gabrielle asked the man as she knelt down beside him, keeping her wand trained on the centaur.
Even in as much pain as the man was clearly in, that didn’t stop his snark. “Do I look okay?” He asked, gesturing down at his torso.
Gabrielle pulled aside his robes to reveal the state of his body. A thick purplish-red splotch had formed beneath his skin on the right side of his belly, and he had part of one of his ribs sticking out through the surface of his skin. He had more broken ribs too, but none of them looked like they’d pierced through his body yet.
“I’ll give you a numbing charm,” Gabrielle said quickly. This damage was too much for her to try to repair without plenty of potions on hand. As it stood, the man would need a blood-replenishing potion soon. “Don’t move from where you’re at, even if you feel up to it; you’ll just end up hurting yourself.”
The man grunted in reply. “Don’t think I’m going anywhere anyways.”
Gabrielle applied the numbing charm to the man’s chest, offering some reprieve from his injuries. She needed to call in Auror support to help him and the woman downstairs.
The centaur squawked as it slowly got to its feet. Blood dripped from its thick coat of brown hair onto the floor. It was barely injured and looked ready to fight, and Gabrielle was going to give it one.
“Remember: stay still,” Gabrielle reminded the man as she lunged forward. The centaur mirrored her actions, right into the spot Gabrielle was aiming at with her wand.
A Gouging Hex designed to carve out rock worked surprisingly well against wood, plaster, and anything else within the floor beneath the centaur’s feet. Its lunge left its slippery feet landing right upon a rapidly-crumbling floor. Even the strength of its six legs weren’t enough to allow it to leap upwards.
The great beast crashed through to the floor below, and Gabrielle gave chase. A simple Feather-Falling Charm slowed her descent as she leapt through the hole, and she followed it up with a piercing hex right to the back of that monster’s neck.
There was a sickening sound as a hole the size of Gabrielle’s fist appeared in the back of the eagle-like creature’s neck. The piercing magic continued all the way through to shoot out the top of the creature’s head, sending a spray of viscera upon the rubble around it.
But that wasn’t enough to kill the monstrosity. Even with its head lolling about, entirely limp, it still stood back up and turned towards Gabrielle.
Cursing, Gabrielle leapt aside as the beast charged her. It had no eyes to see and so ran straight into one of the nearby walls. A painting fell from the walls, its frame smashing into pieces as it collided with the floor.
With a simple twist of her wand, Gabrielle enlarged one of those pieces of wood and sent it flying at the centaur’s midsection. It stabbed cleanly through the beast’s stomach.
It was unsettling how the creature couldn’t shriek anymore. Its body was thrashing about from the pain it was feeling, but there were no cries to reflect it, just the sound of hooves clattering against the floor.
Taking pity on it, Gabrielle finished it off with a series of Piercing Hexes that managed to eventually reach the monster’s heart and put it out of its misery.
Without so much as taking a breath to calm herself, Gabrielle sprinted for the nearby fireplace and threw in a handful of floo powder.
“British Ministry of Magic, Auror Department!” She shouted as she shoved her face into the flames.
They needed the Aurors here now, and then she needed to go help Harry.
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Daphne’s scream telling the kids to run sent a shiver down Harry’s spine. She sounded more panicked than he’d ever heard her be. Coming from how normally composed she was, he knew that she had to be in some danger to make a sound like that.
He dashed up the stairs and through the corridors to where her scream had come from. Then, he heard Emile shout at her.
“—now you’re going to pay the price for what you’ve done.”
Harry turned the corner at that exact moment, fury filling his mind and body at the sight of Emile looming over Daphne. Teddy and Delphini were both there too, hanging back a fair distance as they watched on. Teddy looked absolutely terrified, but Delphini had a surprisingly blank expression on her face.
“I’ve a debt to collect first,” Harry told Emil dangerously. “And you won’t escape from it this time. This ends right here, right now.”
“Yes, it does!” Emile shouted as he turned around with his wand at the ready.
“Kill him, Harry,” Daphne murmured softly.
As the first Killing Curse came flying towards Harry, he dodged out of the way and started sprinting forward towards the man who’d caused so much pain in the world. Harry knew that he was bound to try to escape again if he ever felt like his life was in danger, so Harry wasn’t going to give him the chance to do that. He was going to snap the man’s wand and stop him from hurting anyone ever again.
The corridor was wide enough that Harry was able to weave back and forth like an ice skater to avoid Emile’s curses, but as he grew closer to the man, he knew that he had to improvise.
Harry’s wand twirled in the air like a maestro as he conjured slab after slab of clear ice to intercept each Killing Curse in turn. Then, before it’d had a chance to shatter into millions of glittering pieces, Harry banished the ice away from him. Emile transfigured the shards of ice to water with ease, which was exactly what Harry had been expecting the man to do.
As the heavy raindrops struck Emile, Harry was already transfiguring the water back into ice. Thick globs of ice formed all over Emile’s robes, face, and hands. It wasn’t enough to stop him from doing anything, but the icy-cold sting shocked Emile enough to put him on the back foot.
“You’re dead!” Harry roared at Emile.
Panicking, Emile turned his wand on Daphne’s prone form, but Harry got to him first.
His fist connected with Emile’s nose with a sickening crack. His head went back in a spray of blood as he staggered backwards, utterly dazed from the physical blow.
Witches and wizards were so unused to proper physical violence given their propensity for magic. Any scuffles or fights were often poor, like school children mindlessly battering away at each other with no sense of form or technique. The few witches and wizards who were competent in a physical fight tended to be Aurors, Hit Witches and Hit Wizards, and lowlifes whose magical abilities were easily surpassed by their peers.
Emile did not fit into any of these categories. He was an intellectual sort who hid away and performed research. His magic skills were great, but he didn’t have the body of someone who exercised or trained their body regularly.
Emile fell down, tumbling over Daphne, and crashed to the floor. Harry pounced on the man and ripped his wand out of his hand. Holding it up, Harry snapped Emile’s wand and tossed the pieces aside.
“You bastard!” Emile spat up at Harry, only to have his jaw snapped shut as Harry hit him with an uppercut to the chin.
“You’re a sick freak,” Harry said angrily as he punched Emile again.
He rained down blow after blow on Emile’s face. It barely took any time at all before blood coated the majority of Emile’s face and it started to swell up. Harry’s knuckles were getting cut up and bloody too, but he didn’t care. He was savouring each and every strike he made.
“You killed so many innocent people!” Harry shouted at him. “All for your foolish vanity project!”
Coughing up blood that had dripped into his mouth, Emile showed off his blood-stained teeth as he smiled. “The Dark Lord is anything but a vanity project.”
“Your plan was doomed from the start when you believed that he was a pure-blood,” Harry snapped. His fist came down again, and one of his knuckles dislodged from its place in his hand. The flare of pain was nothing compared to the fury he felt for the man though. “And now you’ll die with your mission unfulfilled.”
“Will it be though?” Emile laughed.
Harry hesitated as he placed his wand against the bottom of the man’s chin. “What do you mean?” He asked him.
Emile’s eyes flickered upwards in the direction of the kids. “The Dark Lord’s progeny awaits her ascension,” he cackled. “Little Delphini will make for a fine Dark Lady in time.”
Harry wanted to shatter the man. It was a miracle that he was able to speak at all after how many times Harry had hit the man’s face. Already, his mouth was filling up with blood and several teeth had been chipped if not outright shattered. And yet, despite this incredible defeat, he continued to taunt Harry.
“She’ll be nothing like her father,” Harry murmured to the man, confident of that fact.
“Will she?” Emile laughed again. “Or will she rise up and claim her rightful throne as the ruler of us all?”
“Shut it!” Harry snapped as he punched the man, but it seemed to have little effect.
“This world will be changed for the better,” Emile promised him. “Once Delphini rises up to take her rightful place, those no-good mudbloods, half-bloods, and blood traitors will see their lots in life diminished until there’s nothing left for them to claim. The right sort will always reign supreme, and Delphini is the ultimate culmination of the most powerful bloodline in the entire world!”
He was mad. It was the only word that Harry could use to describe Emile’s state of mind. He’d become so wrapped up in pure-blood theory that he’d forgotten to recognise magic as being nothing more than magical. There was no science or theory that could predict power or magical acumen. All it came down to was luck and one’s own ability to power through and persevered any hardship that confronted them. Only through trials could one become truly great and powerful.
But Emile didn’t see it that way, and Harry doubted that the man ever would.
Trying to convince him of his folly at this point was useless. He would believe what he wanted to, and he’d die like that.
“You’ve failed, Emile,” Harry told him without a tinge of sadness or anger in his tone. It was pure resignation that filled Harry in that moment. What had happened had happened. This was merely the end result of it all. All of his anger had faded in the wake of him pummelling the man into a bloody, pulpy mess. “Your dreams won’t come true.”
“Unless you’ve become a seer, you can’t know that,” Emile coughed again. “Delphini will rise up one day as the daughter of the Dark Lord and Bellatrix Lestrange, and she’ll—”
Emile’s body froze in the middle of his sentence when an Implosion Curse ruptured his brain and killed him instantly.
Finally, the man who had tormented Harry for so many months was dead. The Death Eaters around him were still being rounded up and captured by the French Aurors at this very moment, and the threat that Voldemort left behind was finally gone.
“What the hell was that?”
Harry’s head whipped around faster than seemed feasible. He laid his eyes upon several Aurors who were stood at the end of the corridor that he’d come down from. Evidently, the blood pumping through his body had been loud enough to distract him from everything else in the world.
Harry lurched to his feet and protectively stepped in front of Delphini, blocking her from sight from the few Aurors who were standing watching him with wide eyes. “If any of you says as much as a single word about this to anyone,” he warned them with a growl in his throat.
“You’ll do what, Potter?” Proudfoot asked as he stepped forward, his cane clinking loudly against the floor. There was a certain smugness in the man’s eyes as he stared Harry down. “This will all go in the official report of the incident, as it should. I suggest that you retract your statement immediately.”
Damn it. Harry’s good hand curled into a tight fist at his side. Like it or not, Proudfoot was right here.
“I apologise,” Harry told the Aurors sincerely. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I only meant to remind everyone about their professional requirement to not speak to the press or anyone outside of the Auror Department about these events.”
“I’m sure they won’t,” Proudfoot assured him, knowing fully well that there were countless leaks within the Auror Department just as Harry did. The story of Delphini’s parentage would be out before the end of the day.
Could he kill them all now and stop that from happening?
No, he couldn’t. Like it or not, people didn’t deserve to die to prevent such a secret from coming out. These were good men and women.
But there was about to be a political storm the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the end of the war, and all Harry wanted to do was to prevent an innocent orphan from suffering because of it.
Comments
Cody
This story has been an incredible and wild ride to read. Excited for the next chapter
