Chapter 57 - Slaughter at the Ministry
The rookie Auror fell next.
Harry leapt into the two way mirror, getting rid of the glass just before he was to smash into it, his first offensive spell a body binding one, hitting Neville squarely on the chest, staggering him back a bit. As they had seen with Waterman, most of the spell's energy was absorbed.
Neville quickly recovered and merely smiled at him, "Harry. It's so good of you to drop in."
The Hogwarts herbology Professor flipped his wrist up sending Harry off his feet. He held on to his wand tightly, bracing for the impact on the room's tiled ceiling.
Crash!
He went through it just as he saw others fill into the interrogation room to restrain Neville. The momentum took him through the crawlspace supports before his body slammed hard on the unforgiving concrete partition and as it did, gravity pulled him back down towards the ground even faster. Harry levitated himself in time to land smoothly a few feet behind Neville and witnessed him dispose of Jack effortlessly.
It was discouraging to see that no one else aside from Neville was left standing. Disadvantaged by their lack of familiarity with the kind of magic on display, Neville had cleared the room swiftly in that short period of time Harry spent in the air. Out of the corner of his eye through the haze of debris he saw a slowly stirring Andy on the floor. He hoped she would be okay, but not well enough to get up at that particular moment.
Neville turned on him with the single-mindedness of inflicting injury. More for self preservation, Harry bombarded him with a series of Stunners, sending him far back with the last one, crumbling the wall behind him. Neville crumpled to the floor with a grunt. Before he could get up, Harry magically took him by the ankles, inverted him in the air and spun him around high-speed, to disorient him and buy some time. Harry had a huge problem. Despite what he had seen Neville do, he could not get himself to use what he knew was necessary force on the maniac who he still saw as his harmless fellow Gryffindor.
His hesitation cost him. Neville had somehow righted himself enough to direct a blow at Harry, causing him to fall back and release. The centrifugal force threw his foe straight into the other two way mirror and caused it to shatter. Harry quickly got back on his feet just as Neville was also getting up. Neville was already pointing at him, a couple of inch wide sharp pieces of glass embedded into his gut, purple blood oozing from it. By mere instinct, Harry conjured a protective spell. Whatever spell it was that Neville had intended for him rebounded and momentarily incapacitated his attacker, frustrating his opponent even more.
For lack of a solution to the conundrum he was faced with, Harry appealed to reason.
"Stop this Neville. It doesn't have to be this way," Harry said as he fended off another curse, that one finding the wooden partition to his right, pulverizing a huge chunk of it.
"Actually, it does."
Neville swept the air with two fingers and Harry's wand flew off into the same direction disappearing from sight. Harry tried to lunge at Neville but he couldn't move his feet. Without a doubt, he was under some sort of a restrictive hex. He swore in his head. What an idiot! He should have just cursed Neville with all that he had while he had the chance.
With confidence, Harry summoned his wand but as it came Neville grabbed it before he could.
"Not bad for someone who was written off as a Squib, huh?"
With Harry's movement limited, Neville recognized the opportunity to pluck the two obtrusive shards from his stomach, dropping them on the floor. Harry watched him lift his shirt up. The wounds healed. Only pinkish inch long scars remained.
"This isn't you. You're not like this."
"So, what am I like?" Neville asked him with brows raised, more daring him to give him a good answer than curious about what he thought.
"You're a caring person. You would never hurt anyone without good reason."
It wasn't in his nature to get all sappy and sentimental but it was the only thing he could think of and it was the truth. Was.
"What a crock of shit!" Neville cackled hysterically and looked around to exaggerate his assessment of the mayhem he had created. "I believe I just did!"
A small thin man had been shaking like a leaf behind one of the toppled over desks.
Neville pointed at the MLE documenter and commanded him, "You. Go fetch my wand."
The man left, eyes glazed over and definitely under an Imperius curse. Harry had to come up with something else. Plan C - stay alive until reinforcements come. He wondered who would be left. Jack was here and most of those on duty had been dispatched to their deaths or to find the dead.
"I heard what you said about Lestrange. I understand why you would take matters into your own hands," Harry said to him. "But she's gone. You did what you set out to do. You don't have to make the potion better."
"I disagree. The potion has to be made better or it will destroy all of us."
Harry could not argue with that but he was almost sure suggesting that Neville turn the experimenting over to someone more mentally stable would be met with resistance.
"How are you going to make it perfect?"
"I didn't come here to talk about potion making."
"So why did you come?"
He thought about Hermione in the other room and hoped she had the sense to stay away.
"Let me think," Neville replied pensively, as if he had a list, "To be recognized for taking the old hag down, to show my superior magic, have people finally take notice of me, even the playing field a bit...did I miss anything?"
Harry looked at Kingsley still slumped motionless on the floor and remembered the four other Aurors who died at the hotel. Then he thought of Firenze, Ragnok, Winky, that innocent giant transient, Filch who was a pest but a harmless one, and the injured. He couldn't contain the revulsion that formed within him.
"You killed a lot of good people! You killed innocent magical beings! Don't you get that at all?"
Neville shrugged, "A small sacrifice for the betterment of the potion."
It felt like he was talking to a wall. There was no one home. Frustration grew as he began to accept that this soulless and apathetic man in front of him was too far deep into the darkness of where he had to go to exact revenge there was little he could do to bring him back.
Neville's errand boy had come back with his wand and got an instant curse from it as a sign of gratitude. Reinforcements had not come; Plan C was a bust but it wasn't panic time yet. Maybe it was a false sense of bravado or utter stupidity but he thought that while it was true he was the one Neville wanted to be in the interrogation room and Neville cursed Kingsley without much fuss, the fact that he was still alive bolstered his belief that Neville did not want him dead; at least not yet.
"I'm here. I'm defenseless. What now, Neville?"
He stared straight into Neville's grey eyes, hard and challenging. A haughty smile crossed Neville's face.
"I'm not sure. I shouldn't kill you but it's very tempting," Neville replied, "I'd really hate myself if you ended up being the one to spoil everything."
"I definitely will if I'm able."
"Able? Hmm...I guess we should fix that."
Neville held both wands with his left hand, stretched his right arm out as he had many times earlier and directed his pointing finger at Harry. With his life in Neville's hands, Harry steeled himself in anticipation of what was to come. And it did; a hot, unpleasant burn, unhurriedly grinding deep from within his bone and out to the surrounding muscle. It was steady, relentless, and all encompassing. His knees buckled making him fall on all fours as he clenched his jaws and fists, screaming in his head, unwilling to give his rival the satisfaction of knowing just how much agony he was in.
After a very long time it stopped and the respite gave him a moment to breath. He could barely move anything without evoking the same torture he just went through, as if each and every cell in his body remembered and would not forget. His eyes were shut and he could hear diabolic laughter close by.
"I wanna hear you scream! I wanna hear you beg!"
Harry told himself pain was all relative. Already he could feel it coming. Just as he attempted to get up he was hit with another Cruciatus curse. The burn this second time was worse. It was as if flames had engulfed him, eating up his flesh, charring him to the bone. Arms unable to support him much longer, his entire body met the rubble riddled floor and arched involuntarily towards the curse's energy, traitorously submitting to it.
"You can end this. Just say the magic word," Neville said to him at the next pause.
He had two words in mind. With all the remaining strength he could muster and fighting against excruciating protest from his tortured muscles, Harry turned towards the direction of his voice and flipped him the finger.
"Fuck you," came his breathy barely audible response.
Neville sounded unaffected, countering, "No. That wasn't quite what I was looking for."
Harry cleared his mind and then he felt it come again; a vacuum of air being sucked away then the wave of magical force forming like a gentle burst of air escaping from a punctured balloon, filling the void as it approached him. The heat and sting came soon after and as much as he tried to hang on, he found himself flitting in and out of consciousness. His whole being was ablaze, throbbing with extreme tenderness during the few seconds he was with it before drifting off to nightmares that he was trapped in the fiery depths of hell.
At some point he awoke to an awareness that the cursing stopped and he heard a commotion. There was fighting. He pried his eyes open and during the brief time he was able to hold his lids up he saw two figures wrestling, Neville and another man obscured from his line of sight.
He dozed off again and dreamt. He had escaped from Hades and was literally on fire. A smoldering broomstick swept him away from the depths of the earth and took him to the familiar Hogwarts grounds. Grasping the broom handle, he tried but was in too much anguish to maneuver. He stopped trying to take control when he realized that his broomstick knew where he wanted to go. When he reached the spot, it dove down plunging him into the cold Hogwarts Lake, the soothing chill an instant relief. He was there for some time and when he resurfaced, he noticed someone sitting on the banks of the nearest shore. He swam toward the womanly figure. It was Hermione wearing clothes as soaking wet as his and a worn but relieved look that reflected exactly how he felt.
Harry woke up to the antiseptic smell of a hospital and the sound of Hermione's reassuring voice.
"It's going to be okay, Harry. You're going to be fine."
Good. Gone was the fire that lapped on him unremittingly. He now felt a gentle coolness and was numb all over, much better than how he felt mere moments before. At peace, he ceased all resistance and let his body and mind surrender to the necessity of total rest.
XXXXXXXXXX
Ginny walked up the long driveway after finding the front gate open and unattended. Her plan was to try and see Sir Isaac Umber, tell him about what she and Harry knew and then suggest that if he was a Bruin (which he was) to work with them to stop Floyd and Lestrange.
It may have been impulsive and was definitely dangerous to go to a house owned by a Bruin. She was unable to reach Harry, Hermione, Kingsley or Dean to tell them what she was up to and maybe she should have come with someone else but time was of the essence. Besides, Ginny could not think that Sir Isaac Umber would harm her and she was a pretty good judge of character.
She got to the porch and rang the bell. The musical tone carried far back into the huge house. She waited; not a stir. She rang the bell a second time and still there was nothing. Ginny didn't come all the way to Canada to turn back just because no one answered the door.
Taking one step closer, Ginny turned the knob clockwise and pushed the door in slightly. It was unlocked. At least technically she wasn't breaking and entering but merely trespassing. Now standing in the foyer she immediately knew something was wrong. There was sobbing coming from beyond the slightly ajar double doors to her left, the sound piercing an eerie quietness. The pungent smell of death was in the air.
Ginny had the prudence to take her wand out, to Disapparate immediately if not manage a defensive spell just in case, and walked slowly and unobtrusively towards the direction of the sound. Through the crack she could see a petite woman with short brown hair weeping over a figure of a man she recognized as Sir Isaac Umber. It could only mean that he was dead.
The woman stood up and put her spectacles on, not bothering to wipe her tear stained face. She then picked up a bundle of identical books which Ginny recognized were worn copies of the Story of the Magic Pill. Ginny could tell she was going to leave.
"Wait! Don't go!" she swung the door open and yelled out.
Startled and perhaps noticing the wand in her hand, the woman fired at Ginny who managed to duck and take cover behind a leather-upholstered wooden chair, badgers carved out for its arms. If she was a Bruin she wouldn't dare.
"My name is Weasley," she sputtered, then realizing that really would mean nothing to the woman, added, "I interviewed Sir Isaac yesterday."
"Weasley. From the Prophet."
From a reflection of the suit of armor on the left, Ginny was relieved that she lowered her wand.
"Yes," Ginny replied as she slowly got up, holding her weapon by her side, measuring the other woman's next move.
"My Uncle was grateful for your discretion. I thank you on behalf of the family."
"You're a Bruin, too. I just want to talk. I want to talk about the potion."
The brown haired woman said to her plainly, cautious with her words, "Be careful what you ask for. You could end up like her."
She motioned to what Ginny thought was a black area rug on the floor. Ginny took a closer look and recognized what could be best described as Bellatrix Lestrange ran over by a steamroller but without the gore of blood. On the Death Eater's ashen two-dimensional face was a mixed expression of horror and suffering.
A stupid question came to mind but she had to ask it to confirm.
"Is she dead?"
"As is my Uncle," the woman answered grimly.
Ginny nodded understanding. She finally got verification of one of the many questionable legends regarding Sophie Bruin and the magical potion. The deathbed curse did exist and the Bruins were tight lipped for good reason.
"We should work together," Ginny proposed.
It was brushed off.
"The authorities will be here soon. I suggest that you leave before they come."
"We want the same thing," she appealed again.
The woman pursed her lips and Ginny could tell she was at least thinking about it.
"I'll be in touch."
She Disapparated before Ginny could get her to commit to a time and place.
Ginny just stood there for a bit, unmoving, studying and mentally recording details of the picture before her as she was surrounded by the dead. It was really too much to ask a reporter to leave the scene of a crime. She put a call into the Ministry to inform them of her discovery.
Not ten seconds after, Ginny had been hexed, bound and wrongfully accused of being in cahoots with the Auror murderer Neville Longbottom.
XXXXXXXXXX
For the second time in as many years, Hermione had acted beyond what was expected or proper, drew ire from the local Healers and she couldn't care any less. At least Andy had been there to do the threatening this time around. Finally satisfied with his Healer's treatment plan, Hermione left Harry in the hospital. A banged up but otherwise healthy Dean would stay with him the rest of the day and night. Harry would be in a dreamless draught induced sleep for a few hours to allow the nerve restorative potion time to heal the many nerve endings damaged by the repeated Cruciatus he had been subjected to by Neville.
Neville. She would not have believed it had she not witnessed the slaughter with her own eyes. The running Ministry tally was six dead, five seriously injured and some fifteen or so walking wounded. She would hopefully hear the details of Neville's interview later but she got the gist of it now, talking with Andy as they made their way back to the Queen Street Auror Office. Andy got blasted by a spell and lost consciousness, regaining it just as Neville left killing more on his way out before Disapparating just past the visitor entrance.
They got to the Command Centre and the mood was understandably somber. The people in the room had just lost friends and the wizard responsible literally walked into their house and made a mockery of the Ministry. The British Aurors were huddled at one corner, reeling form the loss of their leader. It had not fully sunk in that Kingsley was dead; she had always thought that Kingsley would die of old age and never imagined it would be by the hand of someone like Neville.
Sitting with Andy in the back, Hermione listened as Muller recounted the events of the past few hours. He mentioned that a person of interest had been discovered at the Bridle Path crime scene and that she was currently being questioned at an undisclosed location.
He then introduced a deputy Unspeakable to talk about the potion. Just as the 'potion expert' began speaking, a tawny owl passed security and dropped a letter on her lap. It was from Ron.
The Courthouses 3pm.
Hermione glanced at the time teller on the wall above Muller. It was almost three. She showed the note to Andy who had been scoffing at the speaker's attempts to give them tips on how to counter the uncommon magic they were sure to witness again.
Andy hissed at her, trying not to disrupt the speaker, "Do you really have to?"
She nodded.
Noting how depleted the Auror ranks were, Hermione offered, "I can go by myself."
The Auror gave her the are-you-crazy look.
"Let's not kid ourselves here," Hermione whispered back, "They could take me anytime they want. The less protection I have the less injured you'll have, the less people you'll lose."
The Unspeakable had finished his short list of dubious suggestions and Andy motioned her to step out as many remained to ask questions.
In the hallway, Andy reminded her, "You're bait. We want them to come after you so we can catch them."
"Maybe we should all rethink that plan," she said to her. "I don't want to cause anymore deaths."
"Okay, stop. Here's the big picture. You're not causing deaths, they are. We need to prevent them from causing more deaths. You are helping us do that. So, unless you expect us to avoid confrontation with them because we're scared shitless, stop insulting us and just let us do our job."
Hermione nodded, understanding but still not liking the idea. Andy peeked back in the Command Centre and tapped four others to join them. They walked down to the Ministry lobby and took a Portkey straight to the Courthouses on University Avenue.
Once they got there they had no problem finding where to go. They followed the trail of transparent floating figures to the main courtroom, the largest according to Andy. They entered the vast proceeding room, white noise of simultaneous conversation greeting them and she quickly scanned for Ron. Finding one particular ghost out of the hundreds in the already crowded galley was easier said than done. From what she could see, they were the only non ghosts aside from the bailiff and the court clerk who were setting up behind the bar.
A flyer had fallen from the second floor audience and something on it caught her attention. It was information about what the proceedings were about.
Fight for ghost rights!
Say no to designation!
Abolish crossing over deadlines!
Be heard!
Come and support!
Waslib vs the International Magical Being Regulations Commission
The Main Court
University Ave. Courthouses
9 February 2007, 3 p.m.
Ron was taking on the IMBRC?!
Not yet recovered from the shock, Andy nudged her and motioned to the front where Ron had appeared at plaintiff's table, rousing loud applause from the gallery. He was a wearing a bright orange suit, his Cannon colors, which accentuated the red Weasley hair, and he was waving to the crowd like some politician.
Hermione walked down to get Ron's attention. Andy followed closely while the rest of her guard stayed back.
"Hermione! I knew you would come!" he beamed at her as she got to the first row.
"This is a surprise."
"That's why I invited you," Ron replied as his attention was drawn by someone behind her and his demeanor drastically changed, "Well, well, well. This is an even better surprise! Miss Canadian Witch! Grrrr!"
Hermione wasn't sure if she would feel offended, angry or amused as Ron openly flirted with Andy. The Auror's face flushed; not a soft red embarrassed blush but crimson war red. Hermione decided it was more amusing.
"Ghost," the Auror acknowledged, "Nice suit. Getting fashion advice from Liberace?"
Ron faked a laugh, "Funny...so, you never answered me, darling. Are those hooters for real?"
"Ronald!" Hermione admonished, shocked by his audacity.
"What?" he lifted his shoulders, as if he really did not realize he was doing something wrong, "I'm just asking!"
"Show some fucking balls and admit it. You did more than ask the first time we met," Andy retorted as Hermione couldn't help but glare at him even more.
Ron explained to her, "I was just having fun with her and Harry, honey. You don't have to be jealous."
"Jealous? I'm not jealous!"
"If you say so. By the way," he continued to tease Andy, "I love it when you talk dirty."
"I'm appalled at how rude you've become…"
"Honey, I'm dead…"
"Absolutely not an excuse. You should apologize," she said to him firmly.
"But honey…" he protested.
"Apologize!"
Ron turned to Andy, lips pouted and made a feeble attempt, "Sorry Blondie. I promise I won't touch your boobies again."
"You better not."
"But can I touch yours?" Ron turned to Hermione, "I miss them."
Before she could get angry he was already laughing.
"I was just hoping…no…kidding, I'm kidding! So where's Harry? Scared him off already?"
Andy deferred to her to answer.
"He's tied up at the moment."
"Hmm…that reminds me. Did you have sex with him last night?"
She couldn't believe he was really asking this at a public place. And what was it about being tied up...oh.
"I guess that's a yes. Ouch," he put both hands on his chest, "That hurts. Was it better…no, don't answer that…that's going to hurt even more."
"Stop the fucking guilt act and let her be," Andy spat at him, "She lived with you for years. I think she's paid her dues and suffered enough."
"I will if you get naked with me behind the bench," he propositioned, motioning to the raised semicircular counter behind him.
"Dream on, Ghost. Do us all a favor. Go hide in a closet and blow yourself," she retorted, then wisely shifted them to more productive conversation, "So is this thing against the IMBRC for real or is this an act too?"
"Time got bumped to 3:30," Ron answered. "My lawyer asked for the change last minute. He got this hotshot to help us with the case but the bloke had a personal emergency this morning and would be delayed. They should be here any minute."
Just as Ron said that, the doors to the courtroom opened and two men walked in. She instantly recognized one of them.
"This is going to be interesting," Andy commented, echoing Hermione's thoughts.
Ron was less positive.
"What the fuck is that git doing here?!"