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0728 The Bloody Night
🕑 Added 2025-05-27 10:56:04 +0000 UTCUnder the savage veil of night over the hillside beside the lake, the scene that unfolded was one that would haunt the dreams of any witness for the rest of their days.
Like a carefully arranged row of ceremonial candles placed along an altar dedicated to some evil god, Jasna's subordinates were being ignited one after another. No one present, not even Jasna herself could perceive exactly how Bryan moved or what specific technique he used to achieve such results.
The transformation of living, breathing human beings into instruments of fiery death was both horrifically beautiful and utterly disgusting.
Each wizard became a grotesque parody of lighting, their souls serving as wicks that fed the supernatural flames, while their flesh and blood acted as the wax that sustained the terrible fire.
The sight that any observer saw was one that belonged more in the depths of hell than in the mortal world. Those who had once been powerful wizards, confident in their abilities and firm in their cause, were now nothing more than skeletons wreathed in golden fire.
Their skulls had been transformed into open jaws that burped flames like demonic furnaces, while their eye sockets had become hollow that seemed to stare accusingly at the world they were being forced to leave behind.
Yet perhaps the most disturbing aspect of this supernatural execution was that the victims remained conscious throughout their transformation.
Their voices, though no longer emerging from human throats, continued to produce sounds—banshee-like wails that seemed to originate from somewhere beyond this world.
Louise her face turning pale found herself unable to look away from the nightmare unfolding in front of her eyes. She stood in a daze, her mind struggling to process what she was seeing.
The breaking point came suddenly and without warning. At a moment when the screams of the burning skeletons reached a particularly anguished crescendo, Louise's psychological defenses finally crumbled completely.
Her legs, which had been trembling for several minutes, finally gave her up. She collapsed to her knees as her body was no longer able to support her weight as a tsunami of nausea crashed over her.
The retching that followed was uncontrollable, her body was making desperate attempt to expel not just the contents of her stomach but somehow to purge herself of the horror she had witnessed.
Anton Vogel's adopted granddaughter finally emerged from whatever shocked paralysis had held her motionless during the opening moments of Bryan's magical 'demonstration'. The sight of her subordinates being thoroughly destroyed seemed to snap her back to awareness of the desperate nature of their circumstances.
With movements filled with desperation, she swung her wand toward the subordinate who was closest to her position, the wizard whose transformation had progressed the least and who might therefore still be salvageable.
A gentle breeze began to flow from her wand, carrying with it all the magical force she could muster. Under normal circumstances, such a spell would have been more than sufficient to extinguish even a large magical fire.
However, Bryan's Fiendfyre 'SpiritFire' was no ordinary magical flame. The cursed fire that clung to her subordinate's skeleton remained completely immune to her intervention.
The magical wind that should have scattered the flames instead passed through them without effect, as if the fire existed on some plane of reality that her magic simply could not touch. The flames didn't even waver or flicker in response to her desperate efforts—they continued to burn with the same steady, merciless intensity, completely indifferent to her attempts at rescue.
"Stop this, Watson!" Jasna's voice cracked as cold sweat flowed down her forehead and her usually cold controlled demeanor finally became openly desperate and furious.
The calm, calculating leader who had orchestrated the ambush by the lake was gone, replaced by someone whose carefully constructed plans had not just failed but had backfired in the most catastrophic way imaginable.
"Did those Muggles who died at your hands also beg you to stop before their deaths?" Bryan's response came with the same infuriatingly calm tone he had maintained throughout the entire confrontation.
His voice carried no trace of anger, satisfaction, or even particular interest in the happenings.
The question hit Jasna and her reaction was predictable.
"Muggles!" She spat, her body beginning to tremble not with fear now, but with the kind of deep, ideological rage.
The look she gave Bryan was now filled with concentrated hatred.
"Those sheep with incomplete souls are not worthy of being compared to noble wizards!" The words emerged from her lips with the force of spiritual conviction, each word dripping with contempt and disgust.
"In my eyes, Rosier, you too are sheep—" Bryan's response was delivered with the same calmness like all of his previous statements.
As Bryan's words settled into the night air, the golden flames that had been steadily consuming the remains of Jasna's subordinates suddenly surged with new intensity and violence.
What had been a steady, controlled burn suddenly became an inferno of supernatural size. Pillars of fire erupted from the ground where each skeleton stood, reaching up toward the crimson moon.
The night, which had been illuminated only by the steady glow of the burning remains, suddenly became as bright as day under the intense radiance of the fire pillars.
The roar of the flames as they reached their crescendo was overwhelming. The intensity of the sound was so great that it completely drowned out the terrifying wails that had been coming from the burning skeletons, replacing them with something that was somehow both more and less human.
When the supernatural firestorm finally began to subside and the pillars of flame retreated back into whatever dimension they had emerged from, nothing remained of Jasna's subordinates but scattered embers that drifted through the air like gray snow.
Even their bones had been consumed entirely, leaving behind only traces of ash that the gentle night breeze began to scatter across the earth.
"Make a choice, Rosier." Bryan's voice cut through the sudden silence that followed the extinguishing of the flames, his tone as conversational and unaffected as if the earlier supernatural execution had been nothing more than a minor distraction from the evening's main business.
From the very beginning of the confrontation to its current moment, Bryan had remained utterly unmoved by the violence he had orchestrated. His face showed neither hatred for his enemies nor satisfaction at their destruction.
There was no gleam of sadistic pleasure in his eyes, no smile of triumph at the corners of his mouth. He stood in front of Jasna like he was a natural disaster—merciless, and unstoppable.
Facing Jasna Rosier, he continued with the same calm, almost businesslike tone: "You can choose to continue resisting and die here in the same manner as your subordinates, experiencing the same fate that you just witnessed, or you can come back to Britain with me voluntarily, confess everything you've done during your career as a terrorist and murderer, and spend the rest of your natural life in Azkaban prison. Oh,"
He added with what might have been a trace of dark humor, "if you're particularly fortunate, perhaps you might even be released early—say, after thirty or forty years of considering your crimes."
Before Jasna could voice any response to this ultimatum, a series of loud, sharp pops suddenly rang out from a position further along the lakeshore.
Under the night sky that had returned to its previous darkness following the extinguishing of Bryan's supernatural fires, a large group of people suddenly appeared out of thin air. These new arrivals were clearly official personnel of some kind, as showed by their identical black windbreakers that had the insignia and styling of Ministry of Magic enforcement divisions.
The moment these wizards completed their arrival and had adapted themselves to their new surroundings, they immediately began charging toward the site of the confrontation.
Their approach was accompanied by shouted commands and threats delivered with the kind of false boldness that said they were attempting to project authority and control over a situation they didn't yet fully understand.
To further emphasize their official status and attempt to intimidate the criminals, they fired intimidating sparks into the sky.
"It's the German Ministry of Magic, Mr. Watson!" Kingsley's voice carried a note of genuine concern and panic as he identified the approaching officials.
"Your magic broke through the concealment barriers and wards I set up around our position," Kingsley's face had turned pale and he continued, "The amount of magical energy you released during the confrontation completely overwhelmed my protective spells. The German Ministry of Magic has detected the massive magical disturbance that occurred here!"
"There's nothing to be nervous about, Kingsley." Bryan just turned to glance at the Hit-Wizards who were rapidly approaching their position.
"Since we've already located and identified our main target," Bryan continued, "it's time to notify the proper authorities and begin the process of bringing this matter to its proper conclusion."
With that, Bryan turned back toward Jasna with a smile that carried a hint of urgency—the first genuine emotion he had displayed throughout the entire confrontation.
Raising his voice to be heard clearly over the approaching sounds of the Hit-Wizards' advance, he called out: "Have you decided, Rosier? Time is running short, and your window of opportunity for cooperation is closing rapidly."
Jasna had not been close enough to overhear the whispered conversation between Bryan and Kingsley regarding the identity and intentions of the approaching officials, but her eyes and magical senses were sharp enough to observe the German Ministry of Magic personnel as they attempted to establish a surrounding boundary around the confrontation site.
Her response carried all the venom and hatred she could muster, and was delivered through gritted teeth: "You've indeed greatly exceeded our expectations, Watson, but don't think for a moment that no one can match your power. If that person is willing …your fate will be exactly the same as those you just killed!"
Bryan's eyebrows rose slightly at this declaration.
"We will not let you go, Bryan Watson!" Jasna continued, her voice rising with the passion of someone delivering a curse or a prophecy of doom. "This is not over—it's barely begun!"
As she spoke these words, Jasna's eyes swept across the scene of devastation that surrounded them. Her gaze lingered on the row of black scorch marks where her subordinates had met their end.
After taking several rapid, gasping breaths that spoke of someone struggling to control intense emotions, Jasna looked deeply at Watson a look of such intensity that it seemed as though she was attempting to burn his image directly into her soul through the force of her hatred alone.
Then, without any further warning or gesture, her figure simply vanished into thin air, leaving behind only empty space and the lingering echo of her final threats.
"She's escaped!" Louise's voice carried a note of surprise and concern as she observed Jasna Rosier's sudden disappearance.
Louise, who had been retching for quite some time, finally felt her breathing become easier. She had just managed to push herself up from the ground, when she saw the woman vanish in front of her eyes probably using the magical transportation method that wizards referred to as 'Apparition.'
"This is exactly what I wanted to see," Bryan replied, his tone carrying a note of satisfaction.
He turned toward Kingsley with a smile that seemed to indicate that everything was proceeding according to plan. "You stay here and handle the explanations to the German Ministry of Magic, Kingsley. I'll continue the pursuit with Louise—we need to follow Jasna."
"Please be careful, Mr. Watson!" Kingsley's response came after a moment's hesitation, during which he appeared to be weighing various considerations and potential complications. After reaching his decision, he nodded his agreement to the plan, but his expression remained deeply concerned.
The memory of Jasna's threatening words before her departure—her confident assertion that someone existed who could match Bryan's power and her promise that this confrontation was far from over—lingered in Kingsley's mind like a persistent shadow.
With genuine solemnity born of years of experience with dangerous magical criminals, he added his warning: "Remember what she said about someone being willing to take action against you. Her confidence seemed too specific to be just as a bluff or in desperation."
Bryan accepted his caution with a brief nod, and before the approaching Hit-Wizards could complete their encirclement and potentially seal the space to prevent magical transportation, he left from the lakeside with Louise, leaving Kingsley to handle the complex task of explaining the evening's events to the German magical authorities.
The moment Bryan and Louise vanished, the advancing Hit-Wizards accelerated their approach.
A red stunning spell struck Kingsley with precision causing his wand to spin through multiple rotations in the air before falling into the grass with a soft thud. As the stern shouts of the German officials filled the night air around him, Kingsley set aside his concerns for Bryan's safety and took a deep breath to prepare himself for what was likely to be a very long and complicated night of explanations and diplomatic negotiations.
"Hey, don't be nervous, everyone," He called out to the approaching Hit-Wizards, "I'm Kingsley Shacklebolt, employed in the Auror Office of the British Ministry of Magic. I have full credentials and authorization to be here, and I can explain everything that happened this evening!"
…
Sachsenhausen concentration camp is located in Oranienburg, north of Germany's capital city of Berlin. Covering an area of four hundred hectares, this place had served multiple roles throughout its dark and blood-soaked history.
During the years of the Muggle Second World War, Sachsenhausen had functioned as the command headquarters for all concentration camps throughout German-occupied territories and was also the first concentration camp established by those infamous Muggle war fanatics.
But the passage of time had worked its strange alchemy upon this place of horror. What had once been a literal hell on earth, where human beings had been systematically dehumanized, tortured, and murdered on an industrial scale has now become a famous tourist attraction.
During day time, the camp buzzed with activity as tour groups moved through the preserved buildings and exhibits, listening to guides explain the historical significance of what they were seeing, reading plaques and memorials that attempted to put the unbelievable into words that human minds could process.
But now, after the last security team had completed their final sweep to ensure that no visitors remained behind to be locked in for the night, darkness had completely taken control of the place.
The high walls, desolate courtyards, old office buildings, and fan-shaped dormitories were bathed in crimson moonlight. The howling wind sounded like the vengeful wailing of the countless souls who had perished her.
In a remote section of the camp, far from the main tourist routes and the carefully maintained memorial areas, a wasteland stretched away into the darkness like a forgotten corner of hell itself.
This area had been left largely untouched by the restoration efforts that had transformed other parts of the camp into educational exhibits, and as a result it retained more of the original atmosphere of desolation and abandonment that had characterized the entire facility in the years immediately following the war.
Tall poplar trees grew in irregular clusters throughout this wasteland, their branches reaching up towards the sky like the arms of the dead attempting to claw their way out of their graves. These trees casted twisted, unnatural shadows on the ground beneath them, shadows that seemed to move and wriggle with lives of their own, even when the wind was still.
Standing within the embrace of these eerie shadows, like a monument to human evil and architectural decay, was a domed watchtower that had once served as a vantage point for guards to observe and control the movements of prisoners within their assigned sectors.
The cement protective layer outside the watchtower had been steadily peeling away over the decades since the war's end leaving the surrounding walls riddled with holes and bullet holes always clustered around patches of dark brown stains.
The watchtower and the nearby ruins had all been officially classified as dangerous buildings by the Muggle authorities responsible for maintaining the memorial site. The structural stability of these structures had been compromised by decades of neglect and weather damage, making them unsafe for public access.
As a result, the entire large area surrounding these structures had been cordoned off with barriers and warning signs, prohibiting entry for tours and clearly marking the zone as off-limits to visitors.
Pop—
The sound of Apparition echoed through the desolate wasteland as a flash of silver light announced the arrival of someone using magical transportation.
Jasna Rosier stumbled out from the void between dimensions, her usually graceful and controlled demeanor replaced by obvious signs of exhaustion and stress.
"Huff."
After gasping rapidly several times, by the time Jasna had fully adapted to the new environment's lighting, several wizards who had suddenly emerged from the shadows of the trees had already surrounded her.
The guarding wizards who now surrounded Jasna were clearly professionals who took their security responsibilities seriously. Despite her obvious distress and the fact that her appearance generally matched the description of someone they had been knowing, they did not simply accept her identity based on visual recognition alone.
They conducted a complex series of usual checks and verifications, including passwords and magical identification procedures that could detect certain types of disguise charms or impersonation attempts.
Though Jasna was experiencing extreme anxiety about the delay—every moment spent on security procedures was another moment for Bryan Watson to potentially track her magical signature or follow whatever trail her Apparition might have left behind, she understood that these protocols were necessary.
Finally, after a few minutes, the guarding wizards completed their verification procedures and confirmed her identity to their satisfaction. Their postures relaxed slightly, and their expressions also became more welcoming.
However, Jasna was far too focused to engage in casual conversation that her 'companions' seemed eager to initiate. Without acknowledging their greetings, she brushed past them and walked quickly toward the watchtower.
Standing in front of the crumbling wall, Jasna locked her gaze on a stone brick that was mostly covered with moss. The brick's surface was carved with a triangle enclosing a circle and bisected by a vertical line.
Jasna raised her hand and tapped the brick with her wand. The gray triangle's central line immediately glowed with silver light, rapidly spreading upward until it reached the lower edge of a square observation window directly above.
The wall began to ripple like water. Jasna reached her hand into the wall and pulled the silver line. The observation window above rapidly descended to ground level, quickly expanding during its fall into a door covered by a silver light membrane.
Without the slightest hesitation, Jasna stepped through the light membrane, and her figure disappeared from the sight of several guard wizards who were beginning to sense something was amiss.
Her vision plunged into absolute darkness for several disorienting seconds. Then, as her eyes adjusted and the protective enchantments recognized her as an authorized visitor, light gradually returned to reveal her new surroundings.
She found herself standing in an entrance hall with a high curved ceiling.
The air was thick with a rich scent of blood and mold. The concrete floor, already cracked beyond recognition, was damp with puddles everywhere.
Tap, tap, tap!
Jasna's face was frosty. Without stopping for a moment, her black high-top boots splashed through puddles as she strode toward a dark corridor at the front of the entrance hall.
The intricate corridors were like a maze. As she advanced, faint, piercing wails reached her ears. The deeper she went, these intermittent wails became more piercing and harsher, but Jasna remained completely indifferent throughout her way.
"Good evening, Miss Vogel,"
An iron gate appeared in front of Jasna. The guard sitting behind a square table in front of the gate had already received notification and stood up, greeting Jasna.
"Is Aeschylus at the base?" Jasna asked coldly.
"Oh, Captain Aeschylus is currently engaged in his 'health maintenance' activities in the laboratory, Miss Vogel," The guard replied raising his eyebrows and gave Jasna a tactful smile.
"If you want to see him," The guard continued, his tone taking on a note of gentle suggestion that was really a polite warning, "I would respectfully recommend that you wait a moment until he has completed his current... session."
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