Power Plays Chapter 22 (Patreon)

The whispering wind blew along the Ipswich roads. It was almost eerie how quiet the roads were at night now that the Death Eaters had made themselves known again. There were barely a hundred buildings in this tiny magical district, and every single one was dark and silent. Well, other than the one that was currently a burning pile of rubble.

They’d been too late again, Harry had realised the moment he and Susan had arrived. One of the neighbours had reported the attack to the Ministry, but by the time the information was relayed to Amelia and she’d managed to dispatch the two of them, the Death Eaters had gotten away. The young couple who’d lived here in this cosy-looking home were gone—dead, most likely—and there was nothing left of their lives here other than the broomstick that’d been snapped in two in the front garden.

Susan looked as grim as Harry felt. It was impossible to fight back against the Death Eaters like this. These hit-and-run tactics were too effective. Most people couldn’t afford even half-decent wards on their homes, and that made them easy pickings for the Death Eaters. It didn’t take them more than five minutes to break inside of the home, kidnap or kill the family, and then burn the building down. Even in a best-case scenario, it would take seven or eight minutes before Harry and Susan could arrive at the scene. Amelia was doing her best to cut through the Ministry’s red tape and to hurry along these processes, but she was overworked and tired and even Proudfoot’s assistance wasn’t enough to pick up the slack.

Two-hundred and thirty-seven. That was how many had died or were missing due to the Death Eater attacks. The number continued to grow night after night, and the public was desperate for answers.

“We need to sweep the streets,” Susan sighed. Proper protocol dictated that they sweep tiny magical districts like this for any remaining Death Eaters, not that it could stop the Death Eaters from coming back later. 

“I’ve got the east,” Harry replied, already walking away from the ruined building. He trudged down the road, desperate to get back to the Ministry for another cup of coffee.

Being on call for sixteen hours a day was exhausting. Scouring through the destruction left behind by Death Eaters was exhausting. Dealing with all of the false reports—maliciously made or not—was exhausting. Harry felt like he barely had time for himself these days.

He supposed that the only reason he’d even made it through these last two weeks was thanks to Daphne. She’d kept her door open to him throughout the entire process, always ready with a hot meal and her warm body in bed for him when he needed it. She was kind and understanding of the stress he was going through, even when she was undoubtedly stressed from dealing with the bickering Wizengamot every day. She never chastised him for his failures to find Bellatrix or her father; instead, she expressed her certainty that he’d succeed eventually.

Still, even her words weren’t perfectly capable of hiding the anxiety behind her eyes. Her best friend, Tracey, was stuck in limbo so long as Bellatrix lived, and her family was continuing to spend time in France with the Malfoys while her father was on the loose. This situation couldn’t last forever, but Harry seemed no closer to resolving it than he was at the start of this endeavour.

A shadow of a face appeared in one of the nearby windows as Harry rounded onto the next street. A quick lighting charm revealed her to be another terrified citizen, who promptly ducked out of sight as soon as the light illuminated her face.

Harry sighed and continued on his walk. It was like this every night, and it never got any easier. The streets were completely empty, like always.

Harry completed his circuit around the eastern boundary of this neighbourhood and returned back to the burned-out house to find Susan already waiting for him. She didn’t even need to ask the question for him to answer.

“Nothing,” he said with a slight shake of his head.

Susan took it in stride as she always did. She never let her frustrations come out as more than a sigh or a pained look on her face. “Then let's go back to the Ministry and report in.”

The two apparated away, arriving in an empty, subterranean room used by pre-approved personel for apparating in and out of the Ministry. They walked in silence out of the room to the nearby lift and set out to go find Amelia.

“Something needs to change,” Susan murmured as she hit the proper button in the lift. “We can’t keep going on like this.”

“I know,” Harry replied as he leaned back against a wall, giving his tired neck a chance to rest for a moment. “But with the Wizengamot blocking any attempts to set up detection wards in public places around the country, we have no way of predicting where the Death Eaters are gonna hit next.”

“Those damned fools,” Susan said coldly.

“It’s Kingsley’s fault for not keeping them under control,” Harry argued. “If he was a better leader, he’d have dealt with the corrupting influence in the Wizengamot long before now, and maybe then we’d have enough people on our side to get things done.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Susan replied. “But it’s too late to change the hand we’ve been dealt.”

The lift dinged, and the two of them stepped out onto the quiet floor. Given the late hour, or early hour depending on how you looked at it, there were only a handful of staff walking around the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. A few other fast-response teams were milling about in one of the common areas, and some tired-looking clerks were lazily walking between offices, delivering scraps of parchment with supposed tips on Death Eater hot spots and predictions on where they’d hit next.

Harry and Susan passed them all by as they worked their way down to the temporary office Amelia had established for herself. Technically, it was an old conference room, but it was located at the perfect junction between the Auror Department and the Hit Witch and Hit Wizard barracks, so Amelia claimed it as hers and quickly transformed it into something more private. The glass walls were transfigured into sturdy stone ones, and the massive conference table was replaced with a massive U-shaped desk that allowed Amelia to have countless documents spread out all around her.

Susan gave the door a sharp knock before she entered with Harry. Amelia didn’t even bother to look up from the parchment she was reading as they closed the door behind themselves.

“Nothing?” Amelia asked, sounding every bit as tired as she looked.

“No Death Eaters were present at the scene when we arrived,” Susan confirmed, quickly delivering the formal rundown with ease. “We searched the area and were unable to find any further signs of them.”

Amelia nodded and set her parchment down on her desk. “Alright. It’s been quiet so far tonight, so you two can go ahead and write up your report on the incident. I’ve got other teams who can manage—”

Suddenly, the door to Amelia’s office burst inward and a harried-looking aide stepped through the threshold. “There’s been an attack in Reading,” the young woman relayed as she barged past Harry and Susan to slam a scroll of parchment on Amelia’s desk.

“I shouldn’t have said anything about it being quiet,” Amelia mumbled under her breath as she picked up the parchment and gave it a cursory look. “Send Williamson and his team to deal with it.”

“Right away,” the aide replied, nodding sharply. She rushed out of the office just as quickly as she entered, slamming the door closed as she went.

Amelia added the scroll of parchment to a growing stack of them at the end of her desk and rubbed at her tired eyes.

“Are you alright?” Susan asked concernedly.

“Fine,” Amelia answered quickly. She finished rubbing the sleep from her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “Just another long night. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Susan said, not looking mollified in the slightest. “Well, if you need anything from me—”

Again, the door to Amelia’s office slammed open. Amelia quickly tried to hide her exhaustion as another aide came charging in. “Cambridge,” the aide reported quickly, passing over another scroll of parchment. 

Amelia nodded and didn’t even bother to look at the parchment this time. “Send Berrycloth and his team in.”

As the aide left, Harry grimaced. It was like this every night; it was as though Amelia’s office had a revolving door with how frequently people came and went. He was honestly surprised that she’d managed to hold on this long. The pressure she was under to stop this mess was intense, and the workload was just as rough. He knew that Amelia was a powerful workhorse, but everyone had their breaking points. Susan and Harry were already beyond exhausted, and Amelia was working more than either of them.

“You two should go get your report done,” Amelia told them tiredly. “I need to reorganise the London patrols now that Berrycloth’s team is busy dealing with Cambridge.”

“You can send us there if you need,” Susan offered kindly.

“Maybe,” Amelia replied noncommittally. “There are a few teams fresher than you, so I might send one of them—”

It was a testament to Amelia’s patience that she didn’t curse when yet another aide burst into the office. “An attack in Enfield, ma’am!”

Amelia took a deep breath. “Would you two be able to take this one?” She asked Harry and Susan. “We’re stretched thin as it is.”

“Of course,” Harry and Susan both replied in near unison.

“Then go,” Amelia said as she grabbed the scroll of parchment from the aide’s hands.

Harry and Susan quickly rushed out of the room. Getting a new assignment like this always gave Harry a spark of adrenaline, washing away some of his exhaustion. It was a simple task to retrace their steps back down to the lowest levels of the Ministry to the room that’d been assigned for their use. Having already prepared their gear, they were all set to go the moment they walked in.

“Ready?” Susan double checked with Harry as she offered him her hand.

“Ready,” Harry confirmed, taking her hand into his.

Then, they apparated away.

The street they landed on was alive with fire and screams. At first, Harry thought that it was just another scene of the aftermath of a Death Eater attack, but a new realisation dawned as a jet of green light struck a fleeing woman’s chest and sent her lifeless body sprawling to the ground: the Death Eaters were still here.

Susan had the same realisation just as Harry did, and the two of them sprung into action without any words needing to be said, all signs of exhaustion fading as their instincts took over. They leapt into cover beside the nearest fence and examined the situation.

There were a handful of dead bodies lying in the street. It was like a slaughter the way they’d been cut down without prejudice by the Death Eaters, who were congregated further down the road. There were six of them there and potentially more hiding out elsewhere.

The narrow road they were on had detached houses lining it on either side. It was located just outside of a muggle-housing district, so there was little danger of any spellfire injuring a muggle who happened to be passing by. However, almost every house was burning down, and that worried Harry because of the grassy fields that surrounded the road. If the fires spread, they could spill over into muggle neighbourhoods.

There was one house that wasn’t burning though.

Harry recognised the house the moment he laid eyes on it; he’d been over there for supper a few years ago when he’d been promoted to Senior Auror. It looked just the same as when he’d last visited it other than the golden dome around it that was protecting it from the hail of spellfire coming from the masked figures in the street.

“That’s Dawlish’s house,” Harry called out to Susan.

Her eyes widened slightly. The way the Death Eaters were focusing on Dawlish’s house specifically made it clear that they were there for him. A swirl of memories flashed through her eyes in a second. It hadn’t been so long ago that she’d forgotten the way her and her aunt had been targeted by Voldemort and his followers during the war.

“We have to stop them,” Susan told Harry as she readied her wand.

As much as Harry despised Dawlish, she was right. He couldn’t under good conscience resign him to death by not acting against their true foe: the Death Eaters. Besides, Dawlish had a wife, a lovely older woman named Ethel. She was nearly bedridden at their home with some incurable, magical disease, and if the wards were still up at their home, that meant that she was still there with Dawlish. He couldn’t just leave her there too.

“How do you want to play this?” Harry asked.

“Slow and quiet,” Susan replied, her eyes scanning their surroundings. “Over there,” she pointed a little bit down the road to a small house on the opposite side of Dawlish’s. The top level had already collapsed, and the lower level was burning freely, but the garden out front was ringed by thick shrubs and devoid of any flames. “We’ll take them by surprise there.”

“I’ll apparate us,” Harry said, knowing that his apparations were as close to silent as Dumbledore’s had been.

Susan took Harry’s hand and they apparated into cover. With these hit-and-run tactics performed by small groups of Death Eaters, most of the teams didn’t have the necessary skills to establish proper anti-apparation wards. It gave people the opportunity to flee, if they weren’t too panicked to forget to try that option. 

The two of them stayed low as they crept to the edge of the garden. The six Death Eaters had their backs to them, and they were continuously firing spell after spell at the golden dome that warded Dawlish’s house. Harry remembered how Rita had told him that Dawlish had recently beefed up the security wards at his house, but these looked like more than a casual upgrade. The Death Eater’s attacks were having virtually no effect on the wards, regardless of how powerful or dark the spells they used looked.

“On three,” Susan whispered to Harry.

Harry readied himself as Susan counted them down. On three, they both peeked over the edge of the shrubs they were hiding behind and each fired off a trio of stunners. Two of Harry’s spells connected with a couple of the Death Eaters, but his final target happened to choose that moment to step to the side in frustration. Harry’s stunner soared past the figure and smashed against Dawlish’s wards. 

Susan only managed to take down one. Harry was surprised at that—Susan was one of the most precise fighters he knew, even as far back as in Dumbledore’s Army—but he didn’t let himself get distracted. As her two remaining targets spun around to see who was firing at them, Harry managed to clip one of them in their side with a stunning spell.

The remaining two Death Eaters reacted like spooked animals. They scrambled on the road as they ran for any cover they could find while they blindly fired hastily-cast spells. The spells weren’t aimed very well, so they all flew off course and smashed into the burning buildings around them. 

“Aurors!” One of the men shouted, but his cry of alarm was silenced as Harry conjured a root out of the earth in front of him, making him trip and smash his face into the ground. A quick follow-up with a stunning spell left him unconscious, and only one target remained.

The last Death Eater had retreated down the road opposite the way Harry and Susan had entered. He was cowering behind a great old oak tree, cautiously peeking out. His gaze landed on Harry and Susan, and he fired a killing curse in reprisal, but the curse crashed into the shrubbery they were hiding behind instead of them.

“He’s the last one,” Susan said as her eyes scanned the empty road. No other Death Eaters had come rushing in to help after the alarm was raised that Harry and Susan were here. 

“I’ve got him,” Harry said confidently as he stood up to his full height. The Death Eater fired another killing curse, but from this great distance between them, Harry could see that the curse was going to easily miss him. So, he stood his ground and cast a spell that Neville had shown him. 

The spell Harry cast looked nearly identical to the killing curse, so the Death Eater ducked back into the safe cover provided by the tree. However, that proved to be his downfall because as soon as Harry’s spell struck the tree, it came alive. Thick branches bent unnaturally as the tree ripped several of its roots out of the earth. The Death Eater realised what was happening too late and was unable to avoid the branches and roots from binding him to the trunk. 

“Nice one,” Susan grinned. “Finally, we’ve got a win under our belts.”

It was an important one to win. These attacks had been never ending, and almost all of the response forces were too late to stop them. This would only be the third attack that was stopped by the Ministry, but each one was an important win to show the people that they were still trying to stop the Death Eaters. If only so many people didn’t have to die in the process.

Harry and Susan left the garden they were in and set about collecting the wands of each of the Death Eaters and gathering their unconscious forms in a pile in front of Dawlish’s house. The man who was bound by the tree was thrashing and screaming, but the tree held him firm. Harry stunned the man, cancelled his animation spell, and took his unconscious body back with the others.

Just as they were wrapping up, the front door to Dawlish’s home cracked open. Dawlish stood just inside, peering through the crack. When he saw the unconscious Death Eaters, he opened his door wider. “Potter?” He called out, half confused and half angry to see him here.

Harry looked up at his boss. He looked dishevelled without a job to go to. His robes were wrinkled and stained, his beard untrimmed, his hair an awkward mess. Although the man was lazy, overly harsh, and preferred to stay out of the limelight, he always dressed nicely to maintain a professional appearance. Seeing him in such a state of disarray was unusual to say the least.

“We’ve dealt with the situation,” Harry told the man. “We’ll be taking this lot back to the Ministry.”

Dawlish didn’t seem pleased in the slightest. “Too bad you got here too late,” he spat and gestured to the bodies of his neighbours in the road. “Looks like even Amelia can’t keep a proper hold on things.”

“She’s doing better than you did,” Susan rebuked the man harshly. “Where were you while all this was going on, hmm?”

Dawlish’s cheeks turned a dark red. “I was protecting my family.”

“And leaving others to die,” Susan snapped. 

Harry looked over at her concernedly. She wasn’t necessarily wrong, but the Susan he knew didn’t lose her cool like this. He put a hand on her shoulder and murmured to her. “Let's just get these guys back to the Ministry and—”

Susan shrugged his hand off of her shoulder and took a step closer to Dawlish’s wards. “These deaths are on you, not us!” She shouted. “We’re out here night after night fighting.”

Dawlish snorted. “Some good you were.”

For a moment, Harry swore that Susan was going to try to break down Dawlish’s wards herself just so that she could get her hands on the man. “This isn’t the time,” Harry pleaded with her. “Forget him; he’s not worth it.”

Susan gave Dawlish one last dirty look before she turned away. “You’re right,” she mumbled, “sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Harry replied. “We’re both tired. When we get back—”

Harry’s words were lost beneath the cracks of apparations. 

All around them, eight Death Eaters suddenly appeared. Instantly, several wards appeared over the road, including an anti-apparation ward. All were wearing the same dark cloaks and bone-white masks besides their leader, who confidently strode towards the front of the group and drew her wand in front of her face.

“Fancy seeing you here, Potter,” Bellatrix Lestrange cackled madly. “I think it’s time to finish our duel.”

Harry glanced back to Dawlish to see if he’d have any support, but all he saw was the man’s retreating form as he slammed the door shut in front of him.