Blood-Soaked succession Chapter 24 (Patreon)

Chapter 24:

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Sorry for the wait. My household has covid. Been a rough week.

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“Go! Go! Go!” Viktor hollered at the last of the Hogwarts students piled into the ships.

“Yennifer! Take off now!” Viktor ordered the woman in charge of the Spanish Galleon they had used to come to Hogwarts for the tournament.

It dislodged itself from the sandy shore and glided out towards the middle of the lake, where it plunged as soon as the last of the Hogwarts students ducked below deck. The quadrarime followed soon after, but was able to dive down even from the shore. Finally, the pair of Arabic Chebecs swam after them, diving together at the center of the like like the Spanish galleon had.

All of the other ships, the ones without students, remained grounded to cover the reatreat. Not to mention wait for the last few refugees to come out through the forest. Problem was, the charging army of ministry workers and Death Eaters were nearly upon the ships and between the shore and forest.

Oh well. Guess it was time to do some real fighting. He poured himself a mug of coffe from the stand next to the helm and took a seat.

“Permission to fire a volley.” Viktor ordered as he took a sip.

Everyone on his ship could here him when he gave an order, including those manning the cannons below deck, and so they fired.

These were not magical cannons. They weren’t propelled by pixie dust, nor did they fire dragon bile, nor were they constructed out of dragon bones or anything exotic like that. There was no gimick to them. They used gunpowder, sparked by a flame, and propelled spheres of iron. Cold iron.

The funny thing about cold iron, besides their fairy repellent abilities, was that they sapped and disseminated magic. Meaning, if you you fired one with enough force, they could tear through pretty much anything magical. Particularly wards and especially those flimsy magical shields and conjured barriers that their enemies had made a wall with at their forward-most forces.

The pitiful magic phalanx they had formed as frontline was quickly shredded, as were the barely organized lines of men and women behind it.

“You may follow it up with some spellfire when ready.” Viktor lazily instructed from there.

They followed instructions quite literally. They rained fireballs, flaming ice(a fun quasi-alchemical conjuration of frozen methane) burning sparklers of lighting and a myriad of other firespells that painted the landscape like a christmas light show with every color of the rainbow, plus a few black ones. Dangerous spell that one.

“Viktor. There is movement across the lake from the forest.” Poliakoff told him.

“Instruct everybody to hold their fire. That may be the last of the refugees.” Viktor instructed as he got up and went to see.

That wasn’t something you saw everyday.

A dozen acromantula, one as big as a van, were skating across the lake’s surface like water striders. He didn’t even know they could do that! It was very cool. The three centaurs struggling to swim after them from behind were less so. The normally graceful creatures were as flatfooted in the water as he was on land in comparison to in the air.

As if the majestic scene wasn’t bizarre enough, the mer of the lake came up to the surface and crowded around the centaur. They ushered their forest cousins across the water towards the ships.

“Prepare to be boarded by our guests. Be advised, they are as strange as they appear but are to be treated with the utmost care and respect.” Viktor instructed.

He then thought on things.

“Tell every ship to send one last volley of canon and spell fire before taking off. We need to hurry after the others.” He said, finishing his coffee.

He walked to the starboard side where the guests were approaching from. His manners were ahead of him, as offering a hand to a ground of giant spiders to help lift them up like they were humans turned ot to be rather pointless. They just climbed right up the hull and onto the deck. The shocked yells of the few people left on the deck were silenced quickly as they remembered Viktor’s warning.

“Viktor Krum. I am Mosag, queen of Scotland's acromantula colony. These are the last of my surviving daughters. We are in your care.” The largest of the spiders introduced herself and her small entourage.

Viktor bowed to her as he would a human queen.

“If you would permit me to speak out of turn, I would recommend proceeding to Azkaban prison with all haste.” Mosag suggested.

“I thank you for the advice, but would you provide me with the why?” Viktor asked.

“Harry Potter sent a strike force there to free prisoners for his cause. Voldemort himself along with his strongest lieutenant, Bellatrix Black, went there to stop them and they have no means of escape.” Mosag explained. “He has just now arrived.”

Viktor nodded and turned to his first mate, Poliakoff.

“Order all ships, save those containing refugees, to proceed to Azkaban with all haste.” He ordered.

Just then a large splash and the sound of hooves on wood came from the water below. Two identical series of sounds followed after it and Viktor realized somebody had the bright idea to lower the row boat for their centaur guests. He looked over to see that, yes, all three had boarded the rowboat as the mer fled back into the depths without so much as a goodbye.

They hauled the trio of beast men up and they climbed out onto the deck where they shook themselves dry like dogs. One had red hair, one had black and one had brown. It was a colorful bunch.

“Commander Krum.” The wet, brown-haired centaur greeted. “We are all at your service.”

He nodded and turned back to his first mate.

“Set sail, and prepare for our guests warm, dry rooms and towels, along with any luxuries we can provide. Set course for Azkaban prison.” Viktor commanded.

“And, um. Where is Azkaban prison?” Poliakoff asked. “Isn’t it unplottable?”

“I can guide you there by sight.” Mosag offerred with a bow.

And so, they set off.

-

Harry stepped out of the portrait and climbed down from the dark passage. He turned around to offer his hand to lavender, who took and allowed him to help her down.

She may be a soldier, but she was also still a ladt.

“Mr Dumbledore?” Daphne called out ahead of them.

Aberforth came around the corner and his eyes snapped to Harry’s. Now that he knew of hteir relation, the resemblance really was uncanny. He couldn’t fathom how he hadn’t recognized it in all his years coming to the Hog’s Head.

“Ah. Albus’ little soldier.” Aberforth said.

“I think it more appropriate to call me his weapon, lo I have gone rogue.” Harry responded just as ascerbically.

A speachless Dumbledore was a hilarious thing to see, even if in Abe’s case it was because he couldn’t believe somebody actually agreed with his own estimation of his brother. To be fair, Harry was just saying what he thought the man would like. Manipulative? Sure. But he wasn’t being dishonest about it. He meants every word.

“Should I expect a pitched battle on the streets of Hogsmeade?” Harry asked.

“It’s been quiet, actually. I think your folk managed to sneak to the station undetected. They went in small groups, disillusioning each other.” Aberforth said. “The best at the charm stayed back until the end, casting it on the others. I helped.”

Harry nodded gratefully.

“We would be honored if you would do the same for us, and even more honored if you would join us. There is room on the Hogwarts express for one more.” Harry invited.

That stumped Aberforth for a second time. He tapped on his bar counter-top and surveyed the dining area forlornly. Harry recognized it as a man saying goodbye to all he loved.

“I would accept the invitation to flee with you, but I am not so hot on the idea of fighting under a rogue weapon with a severe death wish.” Aberforth said.

“That is more than fair, and I myself have been shocked at the willingness of others to follow my reckless arse into battle, and yet I have done my best to protect them. Should you aid us in a non-combat, and preferably non-cooking, role that would be more than satisfactory. In fact, I would not deign to suggest you beunder me, but would help in guiding me. I would be deferring to you. We are sorely lacking in old, splenetic goats and need one on hand.”Harry explained.

Harry said all of this knowing full well that both Daphne and Lavender were listening intently and giving him suspicious looks at his self-confessed existence. Daphne with a scandalous expression, Lavender with one of pity. He appreciated the latter less than the former.

Aberforth scoffed at the feigned insult then patted himself down.

“Alright. Let’s get a move on.” He said.

“That’s it?” Asked Daphne. “Don’t you have anything to pack?”

“Why would I keep anything valuable, monetarily or spiritually, in this rundown pig sty?” He asked rhetorically. “Nope. Everything of value I own is locked up tight at Gringottes. Save for that there portrait you just climbed out of.”

“Very well. If you would kindly remove the portrait and destroy the passage, we can be on our way.” Harry said gratefully.

“I’ll do you one better.” Said Aberforth.

With a swipe of his wand the portrait vanished from existence, likely sent somewhere safe, and with another he shattered every bottle on the top shelf of his bar. The smell of Vodka and anise filled the bar. With one last swipe of his wand every remaining bottle, of which there were hundreds, vanished. Presumably to the same place as the portrait.

“I would rather see it burned than in their hands. Let’s go.” Aberforth said.

Harry and his two blonde guards nodded and marched to the front door. They heard the blasting curse he sent into the tunnel, along with its collapse. They also felt the flames ignite against the back wall before walking out.

Abeforth joined them, casting disillusionment charms on all of them. He wasn’t lying, he was great at the spell.

-

Azkaban was ready for him, or at least, as ready as it could be. Every capable wand stood along the parapets trying their hardest to setup defensive measures on such short notice. With the mere minutes they had been in charge of the prison they had tried to erect a defensive ward, ostensibly a barrier to repel all matter.

At it’s current strength it amounted to a strong wind going outward from the prison. He flew right through it and the front gates like the platoon of Potter’s forces standing guard hadn’t been there.

He opted to skip fighting them altogether and dodged their barrage of – admittedly well cast and powered – piercers, cutters and bludgeoners. One particular overachiever sent what might have been a tendon evaporating curse he narrowly avoided. He considered turning around and killing whoever that was, just on principle, but he did not have the time.

He needed to get to the ward stone and prevent its destruction. If it was disabled every single person in the prison would be able to apparate or portkey out instantly, instead of slowly evacuating small, eight person groups by flying carpets.

He flew into the main area, above the pit, with the winding staircase leading up to every cell block. There, he found every prisoner free and waiting for him on the opposite side. Nearly a thousand people, each emaciated and exhausted from months or years under the care of dementors.

As one, they cast a single spell. He nearly laughed at their choice of spell, but even he couldn’t block one thousand stupefys being cast at him.

He halted and backed away from the wall of red speeding towards him. He had no ability to dodge or block them all, so he settled for dispelling them.

With one large sweep of his wand, he severed each and every one of the stunner spells. Severed their connection to the physical plane, as it were. It wasn’t even a counterspell, really. But it was something only he and a handful of other people on the planet could do, and only to simple spells like stunners.

In fact, he suspected he only succeeded in dispelling all of them because most were so broken and underpowered that they couldn’t have possibly stunned him. So the reason they cast the stunner at all was because all of the people casting were so weak and broken that they couldn’t have managed offensive cutting or blasting curses. Smart. And it had almost worked.

All of the magic in the stunners still hung in the air from the dispelling, so he tweaked it all into a weak electrical spell. It was about as strong as a taser, and was close enough to a stunner that he was able to easily reshape the magic of the stunners into it. He cast the wave of magic back at them and the birhgt arcs of yellow lightning lit up the room like a floodlight.

He ignored the screaming and flew forth, into the pit and down towards his goal. He doubted any of those prisoners would have died from the electrocuton, save a handful with heart conditions, and he didn’t much care. He’d slaughter them later. For now, he had more important work to do.

As he descended he choked on the unsmistakable smell of smoke, thick and foul as if burning something rotten. Then he saw the bright red and orange light greeted him as he approached the bottom and slowed his descent.

All was fire.

It seemed that upon discovering the dementor breeding grounds, Potter’s people decided to eradicate it all. Understandable, even he had the same instinct upon discovering it the first time. He stayed his hand at the time only because of how useful they were to him. In hindsight, seeing the damage they’d done to his followers over the years, that may have been a mistake.

He let the fires burn unmolested. At this point, good riddance to the creatures.

Voldemort cast a quick bubblehead charm and walked down the one hallway that wasn’t on fire.