Blood-Soaked Succession Chapter 22 (Patreon)

Chapter 22:

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Fred cut down the last Auror guarding the personal effects vault with a sectumsempra and sighed in relief.

The first phase of their plan was complete. Repel the dementors off of the island? Check. Kill or incapacitate the Aurors or Death Eaters present? Check. Recover wands for the prisoners? Seconds away from being accomplished. Now all they needed to do was get a proper directory of prisoners and which cells they were in and then break out the ones they wanted. Then onto phases two and three.

"Okay, Yaxley, you handle organizing the wands we will be returning to the prisoners. In the meantime, Hopkirk, get the prisoner logs and cell numbers." Fred ordered the pair before turning on Warbeck. "You get that big, mokeskin bag of chocolate emptied and get ready to banish them to each prisoner listed."

"Um. I don't think I have that kind of finesse with the banisher. We can't all be Harry Potter you know?" Warbeck countered.

Right. The whole world was well aware of his impossibly good summoning charm after the Triwizard tournament. He somehow forgot that most people can't summon or banish things through winding hallways, secret passages, around locked doors and so forth. At least here every door was made of bars and anything you banished would just go through it. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't even sure if he had that level of finesse with the banishing charm.

"I do." Said Johnathan Cresspool, almost boredly.

Fred nodded at the future mediwizard and motioned for Warbeck to empty out the pouch around her neck. She waved her wand around the area they were standing and Fred noted the floor becoming noticeably cleaner as she did so. You could actually eat off of it, which he guessed was the idea. She then did as he instructed and a mountain of chocolate bars, already peeled of their wrapping paper, was ready for Cresspool's banishers.

By this point, Yaxley had returned dragging several chests, which he opened to reveal neatly stacked wands, like matches in a matchbook. Each had a number drawn on tape that was wrapped around it.

"I bet a knut these are prisoner numbers." Said Hopkirk.

"I'll take that bet and win." Said Yaxley. "Prisoner numbers are normally more than three digits long. These are cell numbers. Saves us a lot of time." Yaxley said.

He was right. There were roughly a thousand individual cells in Azkaban. Most could hold up to four prisoners in bunk beds at a time, with the obvious exception being the maximum security cells up top.

Hopkirk shrugged in surrender before opening the large prisoner log book she had brought along. As she perused it, Fred's eyes were inexplicably drawn to the pizza boy that had been sent along with them. The man's head snapped to attention and he stared off into the distance at something only he could see. The look of alarm and understanding to come over his face, to say nothing of the affirmative nod he gave, confirmed Fred's suspicion that the man was more magical than he appeared. Long-distance telepathy of some kind? Like what Harry had with Voldemort?

Oh god, did this guy have a telepathic link with Harry? That would explain quite a bit.

"Voldemort is coming." The pizza boy said.

"What?!" Was all of their immediate answer.

"He will be here within minutes." PB clarified.

No wonder Harry wanted him to tag along, even though he didn't carry a wand or weapon of any sort. That heads up likely just saved all of their lives, not to mention the mission.

"Okay! Change of plans! You guys, banish chocolate and wands to Every single prisoner, we will be taking all of them out of here. Dissidents, thieves, murderers, and all. We can sort them out later, and we'll need each one able to fight. We need to get heavy hitters, move into the depths in search of the wardstone. Double Time! Everyone else, get ready for a fight with Voldemort."

"The rest of our team is scattered throughout the prison. You should probably fill hem in on this plan." PB nonchalantly added.

Right. Yup. Sonorus time.

"Attention all soldiers! Voldemort is on his way here! We are freeing all prisoners and doubling our efforts to destroy the ward stone. Prepare to disappirate and portkey out as soon as we do." He yelled loud enough for the entire prison to hear him, even over the literal fireworks outside.

Fred canceled the sonorus charm and turned back to Cresspool and Warbeck. The duo, along with Yaxley and Hopkirk, were tying the chocolate bars to wands and banishing them to the cell number listed. They were working like a well-oiled factory belt.

He nodded in satisfaction at their work and turned heel to sprint away. Back through the winding hallways of the guard areas to the first floor prison block. There, in a triagle circling a pit in the ground, were the cell blocks rising upwards to the sky.

Upon arriving it was to find the remaining fighters he had brought along, who had initially been tasked with going cell to cell to free prisoners they wanted, rushing towards the entrance.

“Form a guard on the exterior, give him everything you have when he arrives!” Fred yelled. “Anybody who is good at smashing things, come with me!”

He leapt over the railing into the pit of Azkaban and down he fell. He saw at least four others follow him down, but he couldn’t figure out who they were.

The familiar cold of a dementor’s presence returned, confirming Harry’s suspicion that more of the dreadful creatures hid beneath the prison than within it.

“Expecto patronum!” He called out, pointing his wand downward.

The familiar white fox erupted forth and flew downwards faster than he did. Several voices, including his mothers, repeated the spell from around him and more vibrant white animals joined them in their descent, eradicating the cold and depression seeping into their bones.

By their light Fred saw the ground rapidly approaching and cast the mandatory spell for all Quidditch players to master.

“Arresto momentum!” He called.

The spell hit the ground and spread outwards, so that just before he would have gone splat he came to a suddent, jolting halt. His mother and two others did the same beside him, before the spell faded and they fell the last meter to the ground.

They picked htemselves up quickly and checked their surroundings.

“Is this mold?” A man he thought was named Jacob asked.

Indeed, thick domes of slime mold covered the edges of the area they stood on, with much of the free floor space taken up by tall, thin sporangi that all looked to be on the verge of blooming. He didn’t want to stick around and breath whatever spores they released.

“It is common knowledge that dementors breed.” His mother eventually said. “But, aside from assurances that they do not have sex, the means by which they do so is a state secret. I fear we are about to discover the how.”

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Harry finished pacing in front of the ballerina tapestry and waited for the door to finish appearing. He walked inside to find the room of hidden things completely emptied of crap. In fact, the only thing left was a single portrait of a young girl on the far wall, guarded by two slightly older young girls.

"Daphne? Lavender?" Harry asked as he entered. "Why are you two still here and where are the rest?"

"We, Padma and Susan all did as you asked and took charge." Daphne explained. "And we decided that the two of us should stay behind to guard the retreat and get you caught up."

Harry nodded. Seemed reasonable.

"And how about did they retreat? I came back here concerned at the lack of an army fleeing Hogwarts." Harry asked.

"There is a passage that leads to Hogsmeade, via the Hog's Head, right behind this portrait." Lavender said, pointing a thumb behind her.

"Ah. I forgot about Aberforth. I hope he decides to join us." Harry said as he was reminded of the old barkeep.

"Why?" They both asked at once, both with a slightly disgusted curl to their noses.

"I'll give you a hint. His last name is Dumbledore." Harry said. "Now, let us go join them. A fight may be waiting for them in Hogsmeade. The entire ministry is attacking Hogwarts thereby."

The young girl on the portrait, who looked strangely familiar, curtsied and opened up for them. The passage it revealed reminded Harry strongly of the passage to Honeyduke, which had been the one he planned to lead them through.

In they went. Harry felt like a king with Daphne leading him from the front and Lavender following from the back like a royal guard.

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Fey and her fellow Gryffindors crouched idly away from the action as Viktor-bloody-Krum lead a roman phalanx of wizards. Half held up shields, both the luminescent, purely magical variety and solid conjured ones, while the others cast a whole host of spells that were well above newt level.

Many of the eastern Europeans took the safety of the magical phalanx as license to cast stronger, more time-intensive spells that were usually avoided in actual combat in favor of piercers, cutters and other hexes or curses that are nearly instant to cast. Spears of ice, whips of fire, and certainly dark curses miasmas of vibrant greens and oranges bombarded the army if individuals that made up their enemies. The Aurors were trained to work in pairs, sure, but that didn't mean they fought well in pairs, and this double true for the handful of low-level Death Eaters who had opted to don their copper masks today.

throughout all of this, all Fey could think about was that the backs of the Aurors and Death Eaters looked like excellent targets. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to move forward, or even make a motion with her wand. She had, as an entourage, over a dozen children ill-suited to combat. What right did she have to put their lives in danger? She was supposed to be getting them out of harm's way.

Then the unthinkable happened. Backup came. A swarm of silver and green clad students spewed forth from the main entrance. With a war cry they charged towards the skirmish at the edge of the lake, but they did not come to the aid of Voldemort's forces, instead they bared down on them with flame and schoolyard hexes made for drawing blood.

Only as the first of the rear vanguard of Aurors and Death Eaters fell dead did Fey notice the splotches of blue and bronze, or yellow and black, mixed in with the green and silver. Then she understood, these were the refugees of the other houses. And somehow, they had just outshone the house of courage by acting before they did.

"Go!" Fey yelled.

She and the straggling Gryffindors charged to join the unplanned pincer attack, each yelling at the top of their lungs in what was honestly an underwhelming warcry. Their angle of attack formed a third pincer, leaving the enemies only method of retreat being the ward dome several hundred meters away.

The Durmstrang contingent dropped their shield and went on a full out attack and what resulted more resembled meat in a blender than an actual fight. Fey didn't think the one piercing curse she managed to sling into the fray did anything, but she felt pride at the accomplishment all the same. She didn't dare approach the pile of, hopefully mostly unconscious, bodies.

"Is this everybody?" Viktor demanded of the gathered fifty or so children.

They all answered with gestures that were a combination of an affirmative and being unsure. Which seemed about right.

“Well, I hope you packed everything you value, because we are leaving now!” Viktor told them. “File into the nearest boat and buckle down, it is liable to be a bumpy ride.”

Fey believed him. Sure, the enemy couldn’t get past the wards, but once they fled by ship they would attack them with all they had.

Fey returned to her duty of ushering the children forward as the foreign saviors parted to guard them as they approached the ship. Before they could take their first shambling steps to safety, a loud crack, like a glass plate being sheered in two, rang from high above them.

They all looked up to see the golden dome of protection surrounding Hogwarts crack and then shatter. Every individual piece fading like a curtain being dropped.

They doubled their efforts to board the ships and the first of the students made it just as the cry of hundreds of Voldemort’s own charged onto the Hogwarts grounds.

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Voldemort appeared on the misty shore opposite Azkaban with Bellatrix at his side, and a broom at hers.

Their plans to fly straight to the prison was put on hold due to their surprise at the sparkling, fiery and flashing lights of animal fireworks circling said prison like a tornado. That sure was a lot of fireworks. He had to give it to Potter and his people, they knew how to do things in style.

Then the non-existent hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

“Back!” His hissed at Bellatrix.

They both leapt backwards just in time to avoid being crushed by a wooden box. Scratch that, it was a coffin. Plain and brutalist in design, with iron shackles holding the lids closed. It slammed into the sandy shore and sunk in deep, tilting slightly. Then a second coffin slammed down on their new position, which they both dodge by leaping to different sides. A third, fourth and fifth coffin followed suit until the shore had exactly ten.

It was only his recognition that they were, in fact, coffins that stayed his hand and instinctive need to blast the objects into pieces. No knowing what kind of reaction that would set off.

“Good reflexes for a man in his seventy.” A woman’s muffled voice called out to them.

Voldemort looked up to see two figures standing atop the grass-covered hill at the edge of the sandy shore. One was a woman in Muggle clothing and a plain, white, actors mask. The other was a a completely cloaked hunchback with clawed hands and a thick tail.

It was the tail, and the coffins, that gave away the man’s identity. As hard as it was to believe.

“It appears you have made some breakthroughs in necromancy right under my nose, wormtail.” Voldemort complimented. “Was the body you left at Malfoy manor a fake, or is this a new one?”

“The latter.” Wormtail 2.0 assured him. “This one boasts a clean, untattoed, forearm and all naturale fingers.”

As if to prove his boast, he raised both hands and sleeves. Not an ounce of silver, not a splotch of ink. The man really was free of him. That made two people to defeat the dark mark now, and Voldemort suspected he knew the means.

“So, you killed Draco and then managed to bring him back? Was this through a messiah potion?” Voldemort asked.

Massiah potions could put somebody in a state of temporary death, usually for around three days, hence the name. Puffer fish venom was a key ingredient. It could theoretically work. He had the idea to test it and see if he could willingly free a servant someday.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Wormtial said, lifting his head up to show off those beady eyes and rat mouth of his.

And yet, despite him being the clear threat here, Voldemort’s gaze was inextricably drawn to the woman beside him. During this entire exchange her eyes had not left Bellatrix’s face. He recognized that look, a burning hunger for somebody else’s blood. That she wanted so badly to kill Bellatrix didn’t exactly narrow down her possible identities, but it did provide some information to go off of.

If Bellatrix was noticing what he was, and she surely had, then she knew how to handle such an opponent. The power of words and taunts had always been one of her favorite tools. Based on the similar look of hunger on Bellatrix’s face, this little girl would be in for a rude awakening.

“Well?” Said Voldemort. “Do we have more posturing to get on with, or are you going to pop those lids open and let me see what you’ve cooked up for me?”

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When Hermione says she’s going to handle something, she fucking handles it.

I had to stop this chapter here because the next chapter is balls to the wall action as Voldemort and Bellatrix face off against Peter, Hermione, Regulus, Lily, Lucius and Fabian. And it’s going to be so fun writing it from his perspective.