FicWad

Chapter 25 - Or close the wall up with our English dead!

Harry stood in a clearing in the Forbidden Forest. He needed a lot of room to do what he was about to do, and didn't want an audience. To any muggle observer, it would have appeared that Harry just stood in the center of the clearing, head hung low, stopping for a break on a weary trek. The magical beings in the forest, however, skittered nervously as a large concentration of magical energy collected around him.

Scrying, for those trained in its use, was a complicated affair; using a great deal of awizard's energy for each scry, and requiring a substantial amount of rest and recuperation afterward. Professional scryers usually refused to perform more than one scry per week; preferring to allow their magical reserves to replenish completely before recommencing the very draining process for the next scry.

Harry's scrying, however, was a quite different affair. He hadn't trained using the Ministry's officially sanctioned training methods, so it wasn't nearly as complicated. He also used his will to manipulate the magic around him instead of draining his own reserves of magic, so he wasn't limited to one a week. It was still a tremendous expenditure of magical energy; just not from within /him/. Harry wasn't concerned about performing more than one scry at a time, for two reasons: first that he had a better understanding of the way his mind could manipulate the forces around him than perhaps anyone else alive at the moment, and second, nobody had taught him it couldn't be done.

So he simply stood in his clearing, magic coalescing around him. One could make analogies like a great undischarged store of static electricity, or a whirlwind, or a concentration of light, but it was none of these things. It was magic, and only those who could see magic would know how to describe it. Anyone else would just feel power and sense... /something/... but wouldn't be able to explain.

The vegetation around the clearing where he stood, deep within the Forbidden Forest, was greatly agitated by the byplay of energies during this. Dry, dying grasses were made green once more. One tree not only seemed to repair itself, but it could also be seen to have grown a full two additional feet.

When Harry's manipulation of energies was complete, his scrying was also complete. In his mind's eye, held fast within a corresponding mental map, were fixated pinpoints of... well, not so much light, as much as just existence. He beheld within his mind one hundred seventeen specific locations and identities. He knew exactly where to find every Death Eater who had escaped.

Now, he thought to himself. Whatever shall I do with you all?

***

Junior Auror Belinda Raquel Gilderdale stood security duty in the Ministry Atrium alone. Short and severe, her long hair tied tightly, she was trying very hard to look older than her 31 years. Most of the people who found out she was an auror thought she was much too young for such responsibility; to the point where she was constantly trying to make up for that.

Belinda wasn't supposed to be on duty alone. Her assigned partner and leader, Damian Danford, was assigned to stand at the other side of the open space as her counterpart. He had signaled his need to attend to the call of Mother Nature, and she had nodded as he'd stepped away. That had been nearly twenty minutes earlier; much longer than a quick toilet break should have taken.

Such thoughts were driven from her head quite readily, however, at 9:37 am Belinda heard a sort of squelching sound behind the barrier curtain that obscured the plinth where the old statue depicting the supposed harmony between wizards, goblins and elves had been before the break-in at the Department of Mysteries, nearly a year before.

To her, it sounded as if someone had dropped a bag of sopping wet laundry on the floor.

Surreptitiously, she appraised the rest of the area, to see if anything untoward was afoot. Seeing that there didn't appear to be any notice among the other passers-by, she at first wrote it off to her imagination. Sighting across the atrium, she noticed Danford returning to his place. Finally, she thought. He's supposed to be showing me the ropes, and I end up his bleeding baby-minder. Then she heard it again.

A squidgy sort of impact. Rather heavy, not at all a nice sound. She saw at once that Danford had heard it as well, when he turned back to look at her quizzically. Crooking a finger to beckon her over, he met her in the middle of the large floor, just outside the curtain to the destroyed fountain. "Any idea, Bel?"

Shaking her head in exasperation, she reached to pull aside the veil just in time to witness the next occurrence of that rather disquieting sound. It was the sound of a crushed human body, wearing Death Eater garb, landing on the stone plinth -- quite hard. The previous two bodies, dressed the same, were slowly... hardening. That was the only word she could think of; the forms of the corpses weren't changing; just the material from which they seemed to be composed. Instead of flesh, they were changing to stone. Even as she watched, three more corpses appeared at the high ceiling in rapid succession, falling to pulp themselves against the stone, before becoming stone themselves.

Over the next two hours, the grisly rain of ossifying corpses continued until, just before noon, it stopped. By then, there was a significantly-sized group of aurors including Madame Bones. It looked to be over a hundred dead bodies; some in Death Eater masks and robes, some not -- but all arrayed artfully to show they each bore the Dark Mark, somewhere on a body part.

When the last corpse turned to stone, the plinth glowed brightly for a moment, only to reveal a new inscription:

DEATH EATERS?
SO BE IT
LET THEM EAT DEATH

The Ministry had a new statue monument for their atrium.

***

Back at Hogwarts, the preponderance of the student body and faculty were beginning to make their way toward the Great Hall. Most of them failed to make it that far. They were flummoxed; confronted by a quite grisly sight.

Harry Potter sat on a comfy chair, in more or less the center of the large entrance hall before the Great Hall. Strange though that may have been in itself, the attention he garnered was not due to his nonchalant recumbence, but rather the blood and bits of viscera with which his raiment was festooned. He looked like he'd been through a charnel house.

Just as strange -- perhaps even more so -- was the suspended person of Lucius Malfoy, floating about 8 feet from the stone floor, apparently in some kind of stasis.

Word of the little tableau spread quickly through the school, as such news often does. The few straggling students in the hall didn't take long to grow into a significant crowd. The crowd was loathe to press too close to Harry, seeing him covered in blood and gore, but he didn't mind. Hermione and Luna sat upon the arms of his comfortable chair. Hermione was wiping his face with a damp cloth, while Luna was performing the same service for his hands. Before long, they all beheld the curious sight of Harry's clean face, crowned by his unruly hair with bits of... things... in it.

Minerva, said Harry using his mind-speech. Would you mind coming out to the entrance hall for a moment? He sent her an image to let her know what was going on. Before too many seconds, she stepped out from the Great Hall, beholding the gathered crowd with equanimity.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

Harry stood, to show respect. "Professor, there is something the whole school should really see, but I don't want to make a mess. Could we all step outside the front door for a bit?" He smiled, despite his blood-speckled appearance. "I promise it won't take long."

Knowing it wouldn't matter one whit if she objected, she simply nodded.

"Follow me, everyone," Harry announced. His armchair vanished behind him as he walked toward the front doors to the castle, Malfoy floating before him. The crowd knew they were in for ashow; they just didn't know what form it would take, as they followed him out to the front courtyard.

Hermione and Luna left Harry's side to back away, to the edge of the crowd that had formed in a circle around him. Lucius Malfoy's floating self moved to stand opposite Harry, roughly ten feet away.

Harry spoke just loudly enough to be heard, forcing everyone to listen. "This morning, there was a breakout in Azkaban Prison. One hundred eighteen people escaped with the help of Voldemort's little helpers." He paused while the expected murmur ran its course. "Some of you may recognize Mr. Malfoy here," he continued. "Mr. Malfoy was one of the ones who escaped. What you may not know, however, is that Mr. Malfoy tried to kill me and some of my friends last year."

Harry had to pause again; some of the school knew this, all right, because their parents were Death Eaters. Some of them had even discussed it among themselves, wanting to have been involved.

"You almost certainly do not know where Ifound him. He was standing in the front gateyard at the headquarters of The Quibbler." Luna inhaled sharply, behind him. "He was leading a group to destroy the paper and kill the owner. This piece of sewage hadn't been out of prison more than a few hours before jumping right back into his favorite Death Eater activities."

Harry began to speak louder. "Professor McGonagall, I would like to call upon you as witness, if I may?" McGonagall nodded, her hands folded before her. "Lucius Malfoy, you have grievously wronged the House of Potter by the attempted kidnapping, torture and murder of those under my protection. Under the articles of Canly, I challenge you to a Wizard's End duel. You may have thirty seconds to prepare." Waving, he released the elder Malfoy.

Shaking himself, Lucius declared, "I don't need time to prepare, cur!. Avad--"

That was as far as he got, as he rapidly became occupied with more important things-- to wit, screaming. Harry leaned on his stick and motioned with his free hand, gesturing to raise Malfoy into the air once more. The rich Death Eater's body was being squeezed and twisted like taffy, until the sounds of breaking bones could clearly be heard. May breaking bones. Then there was fire; burning with more screaming in mid-air, until the hideous screaming finally stopped, and nothing but powdered ash swirled where a very evil man had once been.

Most of the school was there, and had witnessed the gruesome spectacle, utterly silent. Then someone unseen was heard to vomit. No one looked to see who it was. Their attention was total.

Harry spoke, very calm but also very loud. "Attack my friends, and die. Horribly." No one said a word. He continued, "I can see the dark mark on some of you. I know who you are, and I know where your mark is.

"Today is Friday; I am calling the aurors at sundown tomorrow to give them names. Anyone wearing the dark mark after sundown at Hogwarts tomorrow will be taken to Azkaban. You may have tonight and tomorrow to arrange for transportation."

Some of them looked like they wanted to attack -- but they had just seen what happened to Malfoy. Muttering, they stormed off.

Harry looked around the assembled crowd, seeing a scattered few looks of acceptance, but most of them were outraged. "Listen carefully, my friends," he said. "Have you not learned anything in the brigade? Voldemort and his little band of shit-heads are terrorists. They will attack your homes, your babies, your parents, and they will not stop until either all of you are dead, or all of them are dead.

"There is no negotiating with insanity. They will not listen, they will not bargain. They will attack, because if they don't, their dork lord will kill them. Stupefy just isn't going to cut it. They'll revive each other, and keep coming, and keep recruiting, and keep coming, and keep killing your families, and keep coming, until we stop them. The ministry doesn't care. Your headmaster didn't care. Do you? That's the only question that matters. Do you care whether you live or die?"