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A Strange Old World Ch.16
🕑 Added 2022-03-24 16:18:06 +0000 UTCDisclaimer: I don't own anything.
Chapter 16— Kidnapping and Botched Plans
AN: This chapter was Beta'd by Sedition and Lord Shiva. Big ups to both of them.
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Under a moonless night, a group of fifteen walked through rows of abandoned tents, their steps quick and hurried.
Behind them burnt the lands of Dartmoor; silent screams mixing with muffled agony of a people who’d come here to enjoy and celebrate, but received death and destruction as a parting gift.
Leading the group with her wand held high, and a bright Lumos upon its tip—the only source of light in the whole ministry camp—was one; Alice Longbottom. The Auror-turned-healer’s eyes flickered cautiously through the shadows, her senses wide open to detect any movements; magical or mundane.
They were travelling in a rough sphere of people, with the eldest eight taking the edges; which, apart from Alice, included the Weasley and Tonks family heads, as well as Bill, Charlie, and Percy.
The mood was grim and gloomy amongst the group, a grave silence dominating their minds thoroughly. They treated any sudden noise as an alarm that might suddenly bring forth an army of death eaters out of the shadows.
But—while clearly more serious than usual—that same level of utter grimness was not shared by the 7 children who were inside the rough circle.
So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when one of them decided to finally break the silence, carrying a certain innocence only a child can.
“Where is everyone?” Rose Potter whined in despair and uncertainty, the dark silence too much for her prankster heart.
This was not a prank, she knew of course, but she wished it was one; wished a bunch of funny looking people to suddenly pop out of the tents and surprise them with a loud ‘Huzzah! Tis’ all a joke!’, while the ominous darkness is defeated by a plethora of fireworks that would never make her feel so…helpless and fearful.
Unfortunately, it was not meant to be.
There was a round of hushes and hisses from the older children, making her shut up with an annoyed click of her teeth.
Her question sent the adults thinking however, and Alice judged that it would be better if the children weren’t such a tight knot of tense nerves.
It could lead to panic at the lightest of surprises.
“Everyone went home, Rose.” She answered the girl quietly, her eyes still scanning their surroundings. “As we are about to do n—.”
A sudden movement in the back—followed by a curse—startled her, and she whirled around with her wand raised—as did the two beside her, only to see Ronald Weasley pushing himself to his feet—having taken a nasty tumble down the road—rubbing his knees as he scowled back at his twin brothers. “What d’you do that for?”
“My sincerest apologies!” Fred solemnly bowed, a hand resting on his chest.
“And mine too, little brother!” His twin nodded.
“But you mustn’t blame us, brother dear!”
“The night is too dark, you see?”
“Boys!” Molly Weasley snapped from the very back, cutting off the other twin’s response. “Not now!”
“Oh c’mon mum,” Fred whined. “It really was an honest mistake this time.”
“Then have some care and don’t make such mistakes!” The woman scowled, before sighing grimly. “Not right now.”
Wincing, the twins gave their brother a hand up, looking suitably chastised.
But it did manage to lighten up the group’s mood a little, driving the uncomfortable silence away as hushed conversations broke out amongst them.
They weren’t happy conversations of course. How can they be? Knowing they were leaving behind so many of their own. Though some in the group carried a faint hope that perhaps some of the missing ones may turn up soon.
The group soon entered deeper within the camp, passing by a tattered tent that barely held onto its sign of ‘Apothecary’
“I have a really bad feeling about this.” Charlie Weasley whispered, his eyes flickering around the tents with well justified paranoia. “Let’s just look for a fireplace within one of these tents and get out quick.”
Alice shook her head. “That might take even longer. Not all tents here have a fireplace, and not all fireplaces are connected to the Floo network. Moreover, some of the wards are still intact. Dismantling them will waste too much time.”
They soon passed through a series of tents that looked to be plundered and looted.
“Merlin, this is so awful.” Charlie muttered, his own wand burning with a much less intense Lumos as he waved it at one of the shredded pavilions. “Could’ve been chilling in Romania with the rest of my team. We were supposed to arrive a week later, you know? When all the craze would be over and the country quietened down a bit. Damned Quidditch, always makes us stupid.”
“Where are we going anyway?”
“Minister’s tent.” Alice replied after a moment. “I have the ward’s permission to enter, and I know for a fact that she had a fireplace installed early in the month.”
Similar conversations broke out amongst the group. But while the others started pushing the uncomfortable silence away, that wasn’t true for the supposed Boy-who-Lived.
No, Jacob Potter held onto the silence like a shield, thwarting any attempts to break it as he malded over in ugly angst.
When his mother and aunt had been called upon, a part of him had been rearing to join them.
Voldemort was here, in this very stadium. How could Jacob be safely tucked away in his house when his mortal enemy had finally arrived?
It made no sense.
And yet, try though he might, he hadn't been able to get any words out of his mouth then. That chilling tone his mother had taken at Voldemort's name had left him shaken to the core.
Things were serious, he knew. And playing the hero might endanger the lives of others.
So he’d kept quiet.
Yet now, he couldn’t help but feel he’d stopped himself out of cowardice. When he looked around himself, he saw not the grim faces of the people, but their bodies covering him like a shield, almost like they were worried he was the target today.
‘They’re treating me like a helpless child.’ A part of him snarled.
Yet, that’s exactly how he’d acted earlier in the day, hadn’t he? When the crowd went ham over Grindelwald’s announcement, Jacob had cowered under the seats like the rest; helpless and terrified. It wasn’t until the adults of the group started reigning in the situation that Jacob finally remembered he was meant to be a leader.
‘Even Hermione had contributed to their escape,’ He seethed. ‘Suggesting plans and ideas that the adults actually took under consideration.’
And yet, he’d just gone with the flow and let himself be dragged around.
All the months and years of practice he’d put in his dueling for this very instance, and here he was; letting himself be led away from the battlefield—like a glass vase too precious to drop.
But the adults weren’t much better, were they? He doubted they’d have accepted any of his suggestions in the first place.
‘Did they all forget that I’ve already faced Voldemort!?’ He fumed in his mind. ‘Where were they then!? Why did they not help me when I was just a naïve eleven-year-old!? But now, when I can finally defend myself, they treat me like a child!?’
His fists curled up tight, brows trembling in anger and frustration.
“You alright, mate?” His best friend leaned forward to glance at him.
Jacob jerked his head away, unwilling to meet his eyes. “Yea. Doing just great.”
Even Ron sounded worried for him. He should’ve been the one that Jacob could confide in with anything. His friend had been there for him when needed; through thick and thin, many times in life-threatening adventures. He should know exactly what Jake was capable of.
And yet…even he took Jacob to be a helpless princess?
How many times had he beaten the odds again and again over the years? How many crazy feats of accomplishments had he achieved till now? Saving the Philosopher’s stone from Voldemort—even if he’d only just stalled for time till Dumbledore arrived. Killing the Basilisk that made even the headmaster piss his pants—though his brother’s unintended help was quite valuable as well.
How was this any different? Voldemort was here; weak and powerless. Grindelwald will be busy dealing with the Aurors, surely no better time could there be to end Voldemort?
‘But why do you need to be there?’ A slimy voice whispered its logic. ‘What could you possibly do that they can’t?’
His nails dug into his palms in frustration.
‘I have to be there!’ He bellowed back. ‘I know I do! No matter how much they try to hide the fact, I know I’m supposed to be the one to end him!’
Jacob wasn’t stupid, contrary to what everyone around him seemed to think. He knew there was some hidden Prophecy that made Voldemort do what he did. He’d heard the hushed whispers and subdued conversation of the Order members, whenever they gathered in the house and everyone thought he’d gone to sleep.
His parents, Aunt Bella, Uncle Lupin, the Longbottoms, the Weasleys, and the Tonks…they all knew something. Something related to him and Voldemort that they didn’t want to share.
‘And why do they get to decide that!’ Jacob snarled.
Why do they get to decide his fate!? They had no right to hide anything like this, and yet, everything Jacob knew was through his own efforts…and a little help from his invisibility cloak but that doesn’t matter!
What mattered was, like always, they treated him like a child, and hid from him things that he had the right to know.
And now they were all paying the price for his ignorance.
A cluster of raised voices startled Jacob suddenly, breaking through the clump of angst brewing in his chest and forcing his attention ahead.
Only then did the boy realize—while he was busy brooding on his lonesome, a commotion had started in the group.
A commotion involving Bill Weasley.
“What do you mean Dora won’t be arriving!?” Bill’s furious words echoed through the dark camp, worry and distress shining with stark clarity. “We can’t leave without her!”
“And Harry too!” Dorea Potter piqued in. “Mom and Bella failed to find him in the stadium. We can’t just leave him!”
“We aren’t leaving anyone.” Alice Longbottom stressed as their group finally came to a stop in front of the minister’s tent. “Only you are. I will be staying behind to look for Harry. As for Nymphadora, she is with the Minister. Moreover, she is an Auror now, she can take care of herself.”
“Auror initiate.” Bill corrected, turning around. “And I know exactly what she is capable of. Trust me, she has no business being around the likes of Grindelwald and You-Know-Who.”
“Where are you going?” Jacob called after him, realizing this might be his chance.
“Stadium, of course.”
“Bill don’t be a fool, son.” Arthur Weasley pushed through from the back, his hand clamping onto his son’s shoulder. “You’ll just create more problems for the Minister. You know how stubborn Dora can be when her mind is set.”
“I can be just as stubborn if I want to be.” Bill shook off his father, his jaw set in determination. “I’ll bring her back, trust me. Kicking and screaming if I have to.”
The words hung in the air awkwardly, forcing out a wince from the redhead as he glanced at Andromeda Tonks—who was giving him a death stare, lips pressed thin—realizing how it may have sounded to the woman and her husband.
But he need not have worried about her, for it was a different mother who made everyone else wince.
“William Weasley!” Molly bellowed, and the chilly air suddenly got even colder. “Care to say that again young man!?”
“Mum….” Bill groaned. “You know I didn’t mean it literally.”
“It matters little how you said it, Bill.” Andromeda stated, solemn and judging. “What matters is that you have no right to dictate my daughter’s actions. And after what happened today, I doubt she’d ever let you. As much as I want to hide her away in safety, she is her own person now. It would be better for you to realize this, and soon.”
Frowning, Bill opened his mouth to reply but the words just wouldn’t come out. Eventually, he simply turned away in dismissal. “Whatever the case, I am going back. Even if I fail to convince her, I can’t just scamper off like a scared rat.”
‘Like you, he means.’ A voice needled Jacob, and in a sudden burst of Gryffindorish bravery, he made up his mind.
“I’m coming with you.” He announced firmly, moving towards Bill.
Now, Jacob expected many things; a clear cut rejection, a few complaints and protests, and maybe, just maybe…a hesitant acceptance.
What he did not expect was an explosive reaction that ranged throughout the group.
“Absolutely not!”
“I knew you would say that!”
“Jacob mate, I really don’t think you sh—
“Don’t be stupid, dum dum—”
As the people kept talking over each other loudly, Jacob’s brain was on the verge of short-circuiting.
‘Shut up!’ He wanted to scream. ‘This is my decision!’
Why did he find himself so hesitant then!?
With a renewed sense of righteous determination, Jacob opened his mouth to give everyone a piece of his mind, when it happened.
It started with Alice suddenly whirling around, a yell of fearful caution on her tongue, her wand aiming towards the shadow—shooting a quick stunner—before changing mid-air to point at Ginny Weasley.
Everyone stood shocked when the former Auror stunned the youngest Weasley—who was just beginning to raise her wand.
“They’re Imperius’d!” Was the only thing Alice could get out before Percy Weasley and Ted Tonks started firing into the group, their eyes cold and glazed.
Panic ensued; the children started yelling out in confusion while the adults tried to run damage control. Spells flew through the air, their natural glow the only thing that enabled everyone to see mere flickers of the world around them through sudden flashes of light.
Unbeknownst to everyone, three cloaked figures slipped into the group—all carrying brooms—using the panic and darkness as their cover to surround the Boy-Who-Lived.
In normal times, three opponents would never be able to do true harm to a group consisting of seven Order members. But scattered and panicked as they were, not even Alice could do anything until it was too late.
Through all this, Jacob Potter was crouching his way out of the group, his wand clutched tightly, and heart beating like a drum.
‘This is it! This is my chance!’ His blood sang to him, his eyes using the flickers of spell-light to search for the enemies in the dark.
Unfortunately, he was unable to put up a single bit of resistance when a stunner hit him in the back out of nowhere—putting him out of commission. A pair of hands caught his fallen body and whisked him upon the broom in all the chaos.
No one even heard a grunt over the screams and yells of the chaotic group, and in no time, the three figures had mounted their brooms and torn off into the open sky.
Alice Longbottom was the only person with enough presence of mind to sense something was wrong. Her eyes squinted past the sudden flashes of light, trying to peer into the darkness, when she caught sight of the brooms leaving for the air.
“No!” She yelled out, her wand sending spells randomly in the air but hitting nothing.
There was nothing they could do. The spell radiance did not illuminate the sky, their range too small. As soon as the brooms had left the land unhindered, they’d lost any sign of Jacob.
Alice made one last attempt, trying to Accio the brooms back—one of the few spells that did not need aiming. But it did require a clear visualization of the target, and Alice had no way of knowing which broom carried the boy. Her spell managed to drag back one of the brooms—the surprised Alliance member unable to shield against the summons—making it crash away into the darkness.
But the other two had already vanished into the skies by then.
“Damn it!” She cursed in frustration, feeling useless, her legs suddenly losing strength.
When the dust settled and things went quiet, five bodies were lying on the ground, stunned. Hermione and Ron were stunned by their own Imperius’d members; Ginny, Ted, and Percy—all of whom were promptly disarmed and captured.
“…What happened?”
“They were Imperius’d…”
“…The unspeakable curse…”
“Who did this!?”
“…the enemies…are they?…”
“…Where are they?”
The whispers and mutters of the group started anew, confusion and panic still gripping their hearts.
“Where is Jacob?” Dorea’s question finally quietened the confused murmurings.
Sighing, Alice stood back up, pushing herself to her feet. “Gone. They were after him, and they succeeded.”
“Oh Merlin…first Harry, now Jacob…”
“Mum is gonna be really pissed.” Rose muttered, and the group’s chattering picked up again.
“Enough!” Alice snapped, moving towards the Minister’s tent. “I will go after him, but first, all of you need to leave now…?”
The subject of her confusion lay inside the tent; a destroyed fireplace, looking specifically torn apart to prevent anyone from leaving.
“Well…” She sighed, moving out. “Or not, I guess.”
She quickly searched through the few tents that she knew possessed a fireplace, but all were the same; their wards dismantled and fireplaces broken.
When she glanced back at the gathered group—their faces weary and tired, barely hiding the growing fear and despair—she couldn’t help but think that Fate was being especially cruel to them.
“I’m afraid we must go back to the stadium.”
No one said anything, knowing the truth behind her words. They could hear the crowd of people outside trying to break into the Ministry camp now, growing louder and louder by the second. In little to no time, this place would be just as compromised as the rest of the lands outside.
Thus, they must willingly walk back towards the maws of their hunters, hoping against hope for some miracle that might show them a way out.
For if not, death would be a certain outcome for them.
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When Bellatrix and Lily reached the stadium, they were primed and prepared for a variety of instances. Whether it be to see their companions engaged with Grindelwald in a bitter battle for survival, or to see them being demolished by the Dark Lord one by one—their bodies littering the Quidditch pitch.
Indeed, so vivid was their imagination that they had hastened to their destination in record speed…well, at least for two middle-aged ladies who couldn’t run very far whilst carrying two massive burdens upon their chests.
Thus they reached the quidditch grounds huffing and puffing, only to lay witness to the scene of a cloaked man drowning an ugly skeletal child inside a large cauldron of boiling liquid.
“Voldemort...” Lily breathed out, before quickly hiding the duo under the cover of Disillusionment Charm. “Come. We’re late.”
They had sensed a concentrated array of magic as soon as they’d placed their feet upon the Quidditch pitch, and it took them barely a moment to notice the group awaiting them at the outskirts of the field.
There were twelve of them, Bella counted, all huddling behind one of the shaded technical areas. If not for having perfected her ability to sense magic, she’d have missed them, hidden as they were under multiple sets of disillusionment and Quietening charms, ensuring they’d be invisible and inaudible to their enemies—who were all rather busy witnessing the ritual in front of them with fascination, thus making her job all the more easier.
Hailed as the greatest Dueler of her generation as she was, it wasn’t a challenge for her magical senses to distinguish between their allies’ magic and locate the one who’d summoned them.
“So,” Bella whispered as she came to kneel beside her superior—who was too engrossed in observing the scene ahead to take notice of her magic. “Thought of any instant Dark Lord-killing plan yet, Minister?”
She made no efforts to suppress her smirk as she felt all the invisible figures give a startled jerk.
“For god’s sake, Bella.” The Minister grouched. “Must you always be such a pain?”
“Indeed, Ms. Black.” Scrimgeour suddenly cut in, venom coloring his tone. “As always, your childish attempts at humor do not amuse anyone here. Perhaps you should consider stopping?”
“Ah, Scrimgeour, old chap! Is that you!?” Bella exclaimed in mock surprise. “I thought you were dead! Crushed under the crowd’s heels, in fact.”
“That was Robards.” Scrimgeour replied after a moment of hesitation, wary.
“Ah, that’s a shame. It’s quite easy to confuse you two, you know? Though I am very disappointed at his death. I’d rather it were you.”
The head of Auror sputtered indignantly and Bella counted that as another win in her book.
“Enough you two!” Minister Bones snapped. “We are about to engage in the most important battle of this decade, and if your petty rivalry messes things up, your punishment will make some stint in Azkaban seem like heaven by the time I’m finished with you.”
Accepting the reprimand for what it was, they all put on their battle-faces, growing grim and weary as they readied themselves to face the coming tribulation.
“Plans, Minister?” Lily asked, unconcerned with the drama as she moved to kneel beside her husband.
“Working on it.”
Ahead, the man who’d dropped the baby in the cauldron held out his hand above the bubbling cauldron, before cutting it off in one smooth motion.
The group winced as the man howled in agony, while continuing to chant something inaudible through gritted teeth.
But Lily recognized that voice. That scream….it may be more rugged and harsh, but the voice was the same.
“Sirius.” She whispered out, her face twisting in rage.
“We’ll get him, I promise.” James assured her, squeezing her arm. “Are the children safe?”
“Alice is guiding them out of here.” Lily answered, anger quickly forgotten as worry clawed at her heart upon the reminder of her green-eyed son.
“And Harry?”
Lily had no answer for him. Thankfully she was saved from giving it as the Minister moved to the front, her invisible figure pushing past others, demanding attention.
“It seems Shacklebolt and Longbottom won’t be joining us anytime soon.” She announced to thin air. “So here’s the plan. Mr. Akingbade, you and your associates engage the Alliance and Death Eaters, while I and my wizards take on Grindelwald. Can you create a barrier to separate them away? I don’t think the Dark Lord would stop interfering in your fights, even should we asked nicely. And I’m afraid to say I doubt we can do much to stop him for long.”
“That will be no problem, Minister Bones.” Akingbade’s voice came from further to the left. “But if I may ask, what is the point of this if you cannot stop Grindelwald?”
“Voldemort. Whatever we do, we can’t let another Dark Lord roam this world with all his restored might. Not right now. So our main objective will be to either knock over that cauldron, kill the skeleton baby entirely, or do something to interfere with the ritual.”
“I see. And will the Supreme Mugwump not join us? I believe this can all be resolved much easily with him here.”
There was a moment of hesitant silence before the Minister replied, “….No, we can’t wait for him. I’ve already sent a patronus to let him know what’s happening, but it will take more time for the news to reach him than we can afford to give.”
“Very well then. Let us begin.”
Their plan, while hasty, was clean and simple. The Minister was to lead her group to surround the dark wizards from the left, while Akingbade and his wizards covered the right side. Once in position, they would burst out at once, hoping to take down a full group of dark wizards simultaneously, utilizing the element of surprise.
If all went well, Grindelwald will be left alone with a few straggling supporters that Akingbade would deal with, while the English wizards would engage the Dark Lord. Eventually Grindelwald would be left to fend off twelve Auror level opponents—seven of whom were an entire level above average Aurors—on his lonesome, giving them a decent chance to stop the ritual.
If all had gone according to the plan, Grindelwald would’ve been dealt a serious blow while Voldemort would be forever imprisoned in his skeletal form, until they thought of a way to permanently dispatch him.
Of course, everything did not go as planned.
In fact, the plan failed before it even began, for as the English wizards started to make their way around the stadium—quite nimbly in their opinion—Grindelwald suddenly turned around and pinned them under his gaze.
"Ah, Minister Bones!” The Dark Lord exclaimed. “I was beginning to wonder if you'll ever move from that place."
Dumbfounded, the wizards didn’t move an inch from their spot, almost hoping that Grindelwald would move on if they perfected the art of lying incredibly still. Hearts beating rapidly, still under the effects of disillusionment, they looked at their Minister for command.
Unfortunately, she was facing quite the same predicament.
"Come now,” Grindelwald drawled out, amused and mocking. “No need for such... Shoddy deceptions."
Hesitantly, Bones signaled her group to stand down and revealed herself, letting the charm dissipate.
"Grindelwald...” She started, making sure her voice was as commanding as ever. “You have no business here. As the Minister of magical Britain, I ask you to leave."
Surprised, the Grindelwald’s brows shot up. "Ho ho! You would parley with a Dark Lord, Minister? What will your people say?"
"No. I shall parley with the monarch of South America, and my people shall be grateful for it. Leave, you have no business here."
"An interesting offer.” The Dark Lord hummed, rubbing his chin in mock thoughtfulness. “Truly, it is. And at normal times I may have accepted it even. But you've made a mistake in your assumption....See, I do certainly have business here. And I have no intention to leave. “
Then, with a contemptuous air, he turned again—unconcerned at showing his back to the enemies. “Though I must thank you for your patience, dear Minister. My parcel arrives."
Just then, two brooms broke through the clouds, soaring through the skies as they dived down for the stadium. And perched upon one of the brooms, hanging limp and stunned, was the body of one, Jacob Potter.
“Excellent!” Grindelwald exclaimed, waving his wand to send shots of fire around the stadium, lighting up the wooden torches that had been hanging in midair for this very moment.
And as the glimmer of fire fell upon the face of Jacob Potter, the wizards gathered below could finally make out his face.
“No…” James breathed out, stumbling to his feet, a horrible realization growing in his chest.
“James, don’t!” Lily tried to drag him back but he was already moving forward, his Disillusionment Charm wearing off.
“Ah, Potter Senior.” Grindelwald chuckled. “Yes, your sons were always our true targets, you see? Though I must admit, I’m terribly impressed by your other son. Three of my best are after him, and they are yet to return.”
Now it was Lily’s turn to stumble on her feet. “Harry…”
With a sudden roar, James tore towards the Dark Lord, his wand shooting spells at all directions.
As if it were a signal they’d all been waiting for, Akingbade and his team fell upon the dark wizards as well.
“Now, now, can’t let that happen.” Grindelwald smirked, waving his wand offhandedly at James—whose feet suddenly sank down as the ground turned to mush, clamping upon his entire lower body—before turning to his right, his wand ready to deal with the African wizards.
Before he could help out his followers however, a large wall of stone emerged from the ground, dividing the Dark Lord from his followers as it cut straight down the middle, creating two separate battlefields.
A little distance away from him, James finally managed to revert the transfiguration and drag himself out.
Annoyed, Grindelwald turned back to the Minister. “Really? What makes you think I’m the one being trapped here? Or do you truly think you can hold me?”
“I don’t think anything, Mr. Grindelwald.” Minister Bones stated solemnly, as the rest of the level 6 Duelists revealed themselves. “I know we can.”
And thus started the battle to decide the future of the world.
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“So, Grindelwald.” Harry began, breaking the brittle silence. “Why is he here?”
His group was briskly making their way for the stadium, their steps quick but cautious—having just set foot in the level 7 campsite. In the lower levels, the scene they’d left behind—quite hurriedly—was of a roaring crowd still busy beating the snot out of the captured Death Eaters.
Unlike Stella, Harry had no delusions about their survival, something he was glad about. As the thought of going back and finishing them off—before they could become a bigger nuisance—had visited his mind briefly, until the decision was taken out of his hands by the crowd.
‘At least they’re good at something. Still would’ve preferred them not breaking the damned brooms.’ Had they been able to fly, they could’ve reached their destination long ago. But in their fury and newly birthed rebellion, the stupid crowd had used the brooms like a stick to beat upon the Death Eaters muggle-style.
“I….truly don’t know.” Stella answered, grimacing. “Neither did Mathew and Krafft, for that matter. We were told the Dark Lord will be busy in Argentina, and not to expect his aid.”
She stopped for a moment, her wand whipping towards a sudden movement on her left—which turned out to be a piece of debris sliding down from a destroyed tent.
Sighing, she continued. “Of course, even had we known of his arrival, it would’ve been highly unlikely for us to be informed of his true purpose. Only the most trusted of his followers know the entire plan whenever missions like this take place.”
Up ahead, the crowd had thinned out quite a bit. The combined foray of Death Eaters upon the lands made this place a taboo ground for the public, something they did their best to avoid, even now when the masked enemies lay defeated.
But that ended up pushing the rest of the crowd even further south, towards the Ministry campsite that was heavily warded and barricaded; both physically and magically.
Harry could see some of the crowd breaking off and rallying an attack upon its defenses, most likely hoping to make use of the Fireplaces inside to escape. Their attempts gained more and more traction slowly, and the group attacking the ministry grounds soon ranged in thousands.
‘What a bunch of useless sheeple.’
Frowning, Harry turned back to Stella. “Wasn’t Krafft one of the oldest members of your group? Why didn’t he earn Grindelwald’s trust?”
Their feet took them alongside the burning tents now, and Harry could see the Potter tent’s golden pillars glittering with flames.
It would’ve looked beautiful had the rest of the tent not been blackened and charred.
“Grindelwald doesn’t like it when people ruin his mighty image.” Stella snorted, and Harry could almost taste the bitterness in her words. “Krafft was old, powerful, and completely loyal. But there were…rumours about him. Rumours that the Dark Lord did not like. So he never really made it to the main list of his asslickers.”
“Your Aurors…” Apolline, who’d been quiet the whole march, pointed down at the foot of the central stadium entrance. “A most cruel way to die.”
There, lying in a crushed pulp, was a dead body whose only recognizable trait were its Auror robes.
Similar bodies littered the ground, though none as pulverized as the one Apolline had pointed.
Harry stared at the corpse grim-faced, wondering if it was someone he’d known. He hoped not, for it truly was a cruel way to die.
Beside him, an involuntary retch escaped Fleur and she quickly closed her eyes. But with her attention no longer on the road, her foot slipped upon a smooth stone, resulting in a loss of balance. Harry almost saw it happen in slow motion, her hands flailing on thin air—her natural balance as a dueler useless upon the debris-filled path—and he simply moved.
He reached her in a burst of speed, fast enough to catch her by the waist; one hand behind her back, the other clutching onto her arm, his own wand gripped between two fingers.
Only later would he wonder why he never simply levitated her mid-air. All it would’ve taken was a simple wave of his wand.
As it was, he found himself a little lost in those exquisite blue eyes that blinked up at him, scrunched up and squinting past some tears. It was a sight much better than what they’d just witnessed, and Harry couldn’t be blamed in quickly forgetting that grimness to focus upon the ethereal beauty in his arms.
His heart beat a little faster and he found himself hating Bill just a little. It truly was a shame how quickly she found her legs again, standing back up straight, eyes averted away from him.
“T-thank you.” She said, before clearing her throat. “I’m fine now. Really.”
Only then did he realize his hand was still holding onto her waist.
“Well….” Harry smirked, not letting go yet. “I could carry you if you need me to.”
“N-non, thank you...” She breathed out, though didn’t remove his arms, her neck a shade of deep red. “I’m perfectly fine now.”
“If you’re sure.” He let go slowly, finally moving away from her.
She breathed out a sigh, though he couldn’t decide if it was of relief or regret.
Up ahead Apolline was giving him…not quite a glare, but an appraising look that seemed to judge him. Still, they soon found themselves moving on, though this time taking care not to look at any more of the mangled corpses.
When they finally reached the central entrance—cautious and a little hurried—stench of death and blood filled up their noses, along with the uproar and clashing of a battlefield.
“We should help them, no?” Fleur’s words captured their attention and they turned to face the left side of the stadium, where a bunch of Aurors were barely holding their own against an enraged crowd.
Honestly? Harry didn’t want to. His mission now was to quickly find Bella and Lily, and leave this wretched place behind.
Grindelwald could go fuck himself. Harry wasn’t powerful enough to be more than an annoyance to him right now. And until that time arrived, what he could do was see to the safety of his loved ones.
‘But why the fuck am I assuming they’ll be in the stadium?’
He paused, suddenly conflicted.
What if Bella was here, amongst these Aurors? She was the head of DMLE wasn’t she?
‘No, she’s one of the most powerful duelers of this country. Surely she’d be inside, fighting Grindelwald and his bunch of thugs?’
But the slightest of possibilities that she may be amongst those struggling Aurors, and he may be letting her die, was too much to dismiss.
“Damnit.” He cursed, whirling around. “Alright, let’s be quick about this. Rescue the Aurors and fall back immediately.”
The Aurors—two in total—were standing away from them, large shields blocking the stream of enraged people howling for their blood. The reason for the crowd’s anger was a mystery to Harry, and a mystery he didn’t care enough to solve.
What he did care about was the injured bodies the Aurors were trying their best to safeguard; also the reason why they couldn’t retaliate back or simply escape.
‘Merlin, I hope Bella or Lily aren’t one of them.’ Harry grimaced when his eyes took in the bodies, surging forward with a renewed determination.
“Blast them away without getting lethal.” Harry commanded his group, and they moved to follow.
The next second a shower of spells railed upon the crowd; powerful Depulsos, Stunners, and Disarming chams, all with the purpose of pushing the crowd back.
Harry had expected a long and bitter struggle against the crowd that would eventually end with them barely managing to pull back the Aurors and the bodies.
Instead, the moment the first few rows of people were blasted back, the rebelling crowd broke instantly, scattering away in panic and fear.
“Fucking rats.” Harry shook his head, moving over to the Aurors—both on their knee to catch some breath.
They saw them coming and raised their hands in thanks, their wands pointing away in a show of trust.
‘Shacklebolt and Longbottom.’ Harry identified them at once.
Shacklebolt was one of the few competent Aurors that Harry personally knew back in his previous life. The man had even held on against Voldemort for a minute or two before finally succumbing. But the fact that Voldemort had deigned to personally pay him a visit spoke highly of his prowess.
The two men seemed to recognize him as well, finally relaxing completely.
“My thanks, Mr. Potter.” Shacklebolt huffed, taking deep breaths.
But Harry’s attention had already moved to the injured bodies, some of whom had just died of blood loss. A quick appraisal later, Harry found that he recognized none of them.
‘I can’t decide if I should be happy or worried.’
While he was glad that Lily or Bella weren’t between the clearly dying lot, the urgency in his chest grew sharply as he realized that the stadium was the only remaining place where they could be.
…Unless they were all chilling in the Ministry camp without having escaped already for some reason.
“Come, we need to—“
It happened instantly. One second he was turning to the Aurors, the next Longbottom was on his feet—wand aimed at Stella— shooting off a lightning quick Bone-breaker at the unaware woman.
With inhuman speed and dexterity, Harry leaped between them—twisting in mid-air—and accurately struck the sickly red flash back to its owner.
Longbottom stumbled away with a shocked yell—barely dodging the spell—and Harry landed in a crouch, his wand ready to tear the Aurors apart.
“Hold!” Shacklebolt bellowed, as the two groups stood barely a second away from fighting.
Harry was pleased to know how quickly his group had mobilized in a fighting position, with Apolline and Fleur spreading out to box the Aurors in.
“This is a misunderstanding!” Shacklebolt yelled again, before glancing back. “Frank, you better have an explanation mate.”
But Longbottom ignored him, his stunned eyes appraising Harry before he shook his head in dismissal and glared at Stella with a barely suppressed snarl. “Mr. Potter, what are you doing!? She’s a traitor! Look at her Kingsley, she’s one of those Brazilian bastards! Stella, I think her name was. Most likely fake.”
A single look at the woman and Shacklebolt nodded. “Indeed she is, but I think we should give Mr. Potter here the benefit of the doubt before thinking the worst. Mr. Potter? An explanation would be wonderful now.”
“You should’ve asked that before you decided to attack.” Harry snorted. “As for the explanation...all you need to know for now is that she has given me her oath. She’s on our side completely, you may rest assured.”
Then his eyes shifted to Longbottom, grim and promising. “And none of that foolishness again, or I’ll be forced to put you out of commission.”
Their eyes were hesitant and conflicted now but Harry didn’t wait for their answer, riding over them as he let his wand hand drop slowly. “Now, would you fine gentlemen care to accompany us? We’re going into the stadium to face Grindelwald and rescue our people.”
The Aurors glanced at each other before nodding and backing down slowly.
“Of course Mr. Potter, that aligns perfectly with our orders.” Shacklebolt took the lead. “But I hope you know what you’re talking about. The Brazilians—though I doubt the validity of that—are all supporters of Grindelwald; cunning and cruel. Even suspecting something fishy, they managed to take us off-guard. I would consider the possibility of the girl finding some loophole in your oath.”
“Let me worry about that.” Harry turned around, his heart growing more and more impatient—and a little nervous—by the second. “For now, all you need to focus on is Grindelwald.”
“Come. We have some work to do.”
------------------------------------
AN: And we are at the finale! What did you thought of this chapter? Hopefully you enjoyed!
So, Voldy is a step away from coming back, Grindelwald is standing guard to make sure that happens, and everyone is now at the stadium.
Next chapter will start directly with action. And all the polls we had on this subject will be coming together in that. Honestly, I was going to hold a poll yesterday, to decide if I should work on SOW Ch.17 next, instead of MS. But I don't want to rush anything, especially now that I've spent...what? 5 chapters on this arc? Would be a shame to mess up the main climax.
Well, that's about it for today. Let me know what you thought of the chapter, and I'll see you lot tomorrow.
Till then, stay safe, have fun, and peace!
Comments
Robs511
;)
Gilgamos
Thanks for the chapter 👍👋
