(Enchanting Melodies) Chapter 160: Demons Run (Patreon)

Chapter 160: Demons Run

31 October 1993, Hogsmeade

Augustus Rookwood stood a distance away from Hogsmeade, looking down at the bustling village. It felt strange to him how, despite the time that had passed since his days at Hogwarts, some things, like the crisp fall weather of October, remained the same. The afternoon sun hung in the sky, bright and strong, lighting up the village in a way that almost made it sparkle. The air was cool but not too cold, just how he remembered autumn days to be—perfect for a thick jumper and a walk around the village.

The streets of Hogsmeade were busy with folks going about their business. Students from the school wandered in groups, probably enjoying their weekend freedom, laughing and joking around with each other. Shopkeepers stood in their doorways, chatting with neighbors or calling out to potential customers. Rookwood noted the cozy, busy scenes with a bit of a cold detachment.

He had done his best for years to strive towards knowledge, to understand the world around him and all it had brought him was misery and death. Perhaps the old saying was correct; ignorance is bliss. They all looked to unconcerned, so content with their lives, unknowing of the dangers that were lurking near, that their peace was coming to an end. It was as pitiable as it was fascinating.

He had to admit that the view was spectacular. The leaves in the village who had turned, showing off oranges, reds, and yellows made the whole place look like it was part of an old painting. However, while lesser men would have marveled at the beauty, he was too busy planning on vulnerable areas to attack with his limited forces.

As much as he hated to admit it, his recruitment efforts bore very little fruit in the last couple of weeks. The deadline was just too steep and without the Dark Lord being there, guaranteeing that they would not suffer any consequences, his former comrades preferred not to risk their safety on just promises alone.

Only the Dark Lord’s most zealot followers agreed to join their attack. Only Walden Macnair agreed to join from the old crowd, but that was out of bloodlust than any kind of loyalty. He did get some gold from Nott to hire a dozen or so mercenaries, but his benefactor was obviously not that invested in the outcome. At least Lucius would have contributed, may he rest in peace. Even if he was a prick, the Malfoy Patriarch obviously had vision of what was important.

Fortunately, Dolohov was more successful in his recruitment. Greyback and a good part of his pack agreed to participate in the attack. Fortunately, that was enough to make sure that their numbers were enough to validate as a significant threat.

His only hesitation was his captor, the smiling killer. He thought that it was an apt name, if anything else. He didn’t know about it until he researched Lucius’ killer, and what he found made him even more terrified of them.

The former unspeakable was currently at the power of a serial killer who had dozens of victims under their belt, who they had had mutilated to make a mockery of a smile, probably even tortured as they died.

It took a while to digest that the threat to skin them alive wasn’t a mere threat.

He stopped all pretense of rebellion then and there. Dolohov seemed to have come to the same conclusion. He could only hope that the thing would leave them alone after that attack.

He stood there in silence, unknowing of what awaited him, only to be joined by Dolohov, “It’s very peaceful.”

“It is,” the former Unspeakable responded.

“When is our dear smiling killer coming?”

“He’s not,” Augustus simply said.

“I don’t like this, Augustus.”

“Neither do I, Antonin.”

The man took a deep breath, “You do understand what that means, don’t you?”

“That we’re a distraction,” Augustus scoffed, “Of course, I did. Azkaban might have been a hellish experience, but my mind is still as sharp as ever.”

“And so is your arrogance, it seems,” he joked back before steeling himself, “this monster wants to weaponize our Lord’s name, to distract the work and use us as bait, so that he would do something.”

Yes, Rookwood had also come to the same conclusion. The monster in human skin wanted something. There was a method, a reason, behind its madness, he could tell. There was a reason why it insisted on the attack targeting Hogsmeade instead of something popular like Diagon Alley. There was a reason why the attack was occurring so early in the day, not the dead of night like they did for their lord. There was a reason why the attack was on Samhain, not because it was a sacred day, but because it’s widely known to be a Hogsmeade weekend.

Hogwarts, it all came down to Hogwarts in the end.

The smiling killer wanted something in the school. They wanted the students to be in danger, for the professors to come running, leaving the school undefended. That thing wanted something from the castle, either kill a student or torture them. Their ability to go through wards would have let them be discreet and kill anyone without an issue. But they wanted a bang, they wanted attention. For what, he did not know and yet he dreaded the answer. Even the Dark Lord did not dare attack the school, not because of Dumbledore, but because it was simply foolish to attack a place where the next generation of wizards and witches lived. No one wanted to be the king of the ashes, after all.

This attack gave him a bad feeling.

“Unfortunately, Antonin, we don’t really have a choice in the matter.”

His fellow Death Eater shrugged, “I know. I just wanted to ask if we had any guarantee that they wouldn’t go back on their word and give us the Dark Lord’s location.”

“They already gave it to me, in an enchanted piece of parchment. It would reveal itself tomorrow morning.”

“And you didn’t try to dispel it because they would know.”

Rookwood nodded in confirmation. He really liked Antonin; he was one of few smart ones and his professionalism was very appreciative.

The man continued, “And if they lied?”

“Do you really willing to take that risk and confront them?”

Dolohov looked away in shame and Augustus suppressed the urge to smirk. The former dueling champion was as terrified of the smiling killer as he was, “It’s getting late. We need to begin soon. I have to say that I missed this, and I do have a lot of pent-up frustration to release.”

Rookwood shared that sentiment. There was something satisfying in terrifying people, in gaining complete power over their life and death, especially after being powerless in so long.

He hadn’t really liked the raiding at first; it was just a means to an end. But he had grown to like it. The former Unspeakable could see why people partook in it, even if it was just senseless violence.

In silence, both Death Eaters put on their masks, once a mark of pride as servants of the Dark Lord, now a mark of shame for using it for something unworthy. They put on the masks to change the world, not terrify a few school children to bait their teachers out of their castle.

The other attackers took that as a sign to suit up, and they all used invisibility cloaks to sneak into the village. It didn’t take long for Greyback and his brood to lose control and start attacking recklessly.

It was expected. Werewolves tended to be impulsive, eager for violence, but Greyback’s pack reveled in violence. They purposely liked to let their inner wolf have more control than it was necessary, and while this enhanced their bodies, their minds were affected all the time. They had been active for so long that Greyback’s name alone could make people stiffen in fear.

Greyback’s pack didn’t seem particularly terrifying now. The savages just kept sending blasting curses at various establishments, probably attacking the students as well. He could tell that people started to realize what was happening by the screams.

Someone started to yell out, “Greyback! Greyback is here!” and that's when the real panic set in.

Of course, that was when people fled, or they would have if it wasn’t for the anti-apparition ward that the mercenaries put up. Everyone seemed to revel in the chaos, except for Rookwood and Dolohov who just walked slowly, sending curses at anyone who attacked them.

His heart wasn’t into it, and he could tell that Dolohov’s wasn’t either. There was no rightful cause that they were spreading, just senseless violence and death. There wasn’t any challenge in fighting civilians. They would just wait for the professors to arrive to confront them.

They continued on, ignoring the spell fire and the chaos around them. Augustus and Dolohov were in no hurry. Their mission was to lure the professors and bolt, nothing more, and until then, they needed to conserve their energy. Whatever resistance they encountered was feeble at best.

Dolohov sounded upset, “This is pathetic.”

Yes, it was. Rookwood didn’t know if he was talking about their actions or how the residents of Hogsmeade were faring, but it was both. This was an insult of their skills, but the defenders were just useless. When he was younger, he learned in school the basics of how to defend himself. No one was even putting on a shield charm. His fellow attackers weren’t even using Unforgivable curses.

Instead, the students, easily recognizable from their robes, were ducking and weaving, trying to avoid the fray. Some of the older ones thew a couple of spells, but that was it, and they were quickly overwhelmed. What was Hogwarts reduced to? How did magical Britain become this pathetic in just a decade? Where was the heart? Where was the survival instinct? To be a mage was to walk with death. This was literally Augustus’ worst nightmare. He was the one attacking, yet he felt like he lost the most.

The attack had barely started for less than a minute and there was practically no sign of resistance left.

Until the black fog came…

Honestly, Augustus had never seen anything like it before. It appeared slowly, darkening any light source around. In ten seconds, it looked like it was night. In twenty, they could barely see anything. His fellow attackers tried to light their wands but no light came.

“What the hell is going on,” one of the mercenaries yelled.

Rookwood didn’t really know, but he could theorize. Sound was slowly being muffled as well, and any attempts at creating light was gone, “Peruvian Darkness powder and a lot of it too. Probably modified somehow…”

Dolohov yelled, “This is not the time for experimentation, Rookwood. What do we do?”

“We leave,” he simply stated.

“Like hell we are,” Greyback sneered, “I didn’t take you as a coward, Rookwood. We will finish what we started.”

“It’s obviously a trap,” he insisted.

“If it was a trap, then it’s a ship one. Use your scent. You can smell the fear on our prey. You are my pack and are we scared of the dark?”

They yelled out, “No!”

“Then get back to work!” he yelled.

The mercenaries didn’t seem to agree with him, “Fuck this, I’m out of here.”

They obviously tried to apparate but weren’t able to, “Shit! Something messed with out apparition wards. We need to get to borders and leave.”

Rookwood simply said, “Agreed.”

He waved his wand and muttered, “Point me, North!”

His wand turned towards a direction. He could feel where it was turned and proceeded to follow his wand’s direction. Everything was going fine for a minute until it started. Macnair yelled, “What the fuck!”

“What is it?”

“I can’t move my arms,” he yelled back.

He walked towards the man’s voice and examined him. He suppressed the urge to curse. The man’s hands were petrified. Was he cursed somehow?

Further examinations showed that he wasn’t. He tried to dispel it and it only worked for a fraction of a second before being petrified once more.

“Shit! It’s a ward. We need to get out of here now before we get petrified too. Run!”

And that was when they all started to run. Rookwood did his best to cast a curse on himself and Dolohov that would nullify any foreign attribute. Curses were nifty like that, not that anyone would care since the first thing they thought was that it was ‘dark magic’ and ran away in fear.

Not the time, Augustus. This was so not the time.

It was a draining spell that would only last as long as there is magic in it, magic that was being quickly depleted by the petrification ward. It would buy them some time but not enough. He heard the mercenaries yell as they fell, their legs probably petrified. That was unlucky.

Rookwood and Dolohov seemed to have outrun the Peruvian Darkness Powder fog since he could see slightly. He was hopeful for a fraction of a second until his partner yelled and fell, seemingly having tripped. He ran towards him and saw that his leg was petrified. He tried to do anything to stop it, only to meet with some kind of resistance.

The fog was coming towards them, and he cursed, “Fuck!”

Dolohov gave him a pitying look, “Go!”

“I can’t! I’m petrified too. We don’t even know where the border of the ward is.”

The former Unspeakable looked at the coming fog and whispered, “It wasn’t supposed to be this way!”

Fighting as much as he could against the petrification, he grabbed the piece of parchment that the smiling killer gave him and opened it for the first time. The ministry wasn’t going to be lenient with them, that’s for sure. He looked at it and started to laugh.

It wasn’t a pretty laugh, that’s for sure, filled with desperation and madness. And as his movement became stiffer and he lost the ability to move, as the darkness fog overwhelmed him, he continued to laugh, until he couldn’t move anymore.

Because on that piece of parchment was a familiar smiling face drawn in blood.