Categories > Books > Harry Potter > The Heritage
Chapter 62
This is a real harem story. Not the ones you can find everywhere about a bunch of kids having a go with Harry and Harry with them, but an official harem like the old Sultans from Turkey ages ago wi...
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The Heritage - Chapter 62
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A/N: Editor of this chapter is Dave
A/N: Thank you Mechconstrictor for the General Douglas MacArthur quotes
A/N: I mention in this chapter the book 'The Necrowombicon'. The Necronomicon is a fictional book from the stories of horror writer H.P. Lovecraft. It was first mentioned in Lovecraft's 1924 short story "The Hound", written in 1922, though its purported author, the "Mad Arab" Abdul Alhazred, had been quoted a year earlier in Lovecraft's "The Nameless City". Among other things, the work contains an account of the Old Ones, their history, and the means for summoning them. Other authors such as August Derleth and Clark Ashton Smith also cited it in their works; Lovecraft approved, believing such common allusions built up "a background of evil verisimilitude." Many readers have believed it to be a real work, with booksellers and librarians receiving many requests for it; pranksters have listed it in rare book catalogues, and one smuggled a card for it into the Yale University Library's card catalog.
A/N: Scene from the last chapter.
"It's a Neutron bomb," said Hermione. She turned to the Prince. What radiation dose are you talking about, Your Highness?"
"Six Gy is normally considered too be lethal, but in reality it will only kill the half of the victims immediately, and the rest will die only after several days." answered the Prince.
"If we use a dose of eighty Gy, that it would kill everyone immediately, except that the collateral damage is enormous, like that of a conventional nuclear weapon."
"What is the damage radius, Your Highness?" asked Hermione again.
"The range of Six Gy bomb is about seven hundred meters for killing everyone instantly, and eleven hundred meters to kill after several days. The neutron flux can induce significant amounts of short-lived secondary radioactivity in the environment in the high flux region near the burst point."
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"There is also an alternative," said Colonel Burleys.
"That's right," drowned General Rand Gunn, the commander of the American Special Forces. "A better alternative is the implementation of a thermobaric weapon."
Harry and Hermione frowned.
"You mean ... well ... what is it exactly?" asked Hermione.
"Well, Miss Granger, Thermobaric weapons use atmospheric oxygen, instead of carrying explosives. They are also called high-impulse thermobaric weapons or HIT, fuel-air explosives or FAE or HAX, or sometimes fuel-air munitions, heat and pressure weapons, or vacuum bombs. They produce more explosive energy for a given size than do other conventional explosives, but have the downside of being less predictable in their effect," the General ended.
Hermione frowned now.
"What do you mean with 'being less predictable in their effect', General?" asked Harry.
"Well, there are several situations, which might lead to less predictable in their effect," began the General. "Some FAE uses fuels, such as ethylene oxide and propylene oxide, are highly toxic. A device using such fuels is very dangerous even if the fuel fails to ignite; the device then becomes essentially a chemical weapon.
Another factor, which might be less to control is the impact itself. Fuel-air explosives are derived from accidents in civil industries like accidental fuel-air explosions as a result of a boiling liquid expanding vapor explosion, for example when a tank containing liquefied petroleum gas bursts. Silo explosions, caused by the ignition of finely-powdered atmospheric dust, are another example. All those explosions were out of control and it was not possible to predict how powerful the explosion was."
"What is the difference between this weapon and the neutron bomb, General?" asked Hermione.
The General beamed when he heard the question and he stood up.
"Well, Miss Granger, there are of course difference, but the end effect is almost the same. The main thing is that both devices will do its job," the General started. He breathed deeply in, expanded his chest, both hands behind his back and started to walk to and from the people in the Foyer. The Queen had a vague smile on her face and the Princes were grinning now. Here he goes again, whispered Prince Charles.
"The effects produced by FAE's are often likened to the effects produced by low-yield nuclear weapons, but without the problems of radiation. However, this is inexact; for all current and foreseen sub-kiloton-yield nuclear weapon designs, prompt radiation effects predominate, producing some secondary heating; very little of the nominal yield is actually delivered as blast. The significant injury dealt by either weapon on a targeted population is nonetheless great," ended the General, looking expectantly at Hermione.
"What did he say?" whispered Harry loudly.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "He said that a FAE is as destructive as a nuclear weapon, but no radiation, but unpredictable during impact," Hermione summarized.
The general looked amazed at Hermione.
"Why can't I say something like that," he said pleased. "If you ever want to have a job, you can start immediately as my spokes man ... eh woman," the General said.
Hermione blushed. "But General, that is against the rules, because I am British, not American citizen."
The general expanded his chest again and looked proudly around him. "The greatest man in history with the name of General Douglas MacArthur said once that 'You are remembered for the rules you break' and 'Rules are mostly made to be broken and are too often for the lazy to hide behind'. My life is dedicated to that great man, who fought against tyranny and for freedom. Everything what you have here is thanks to men like him."
Hermione nodded hesitatingly.
"How does it such weapon work, General?" asked Hermione.
The General skipped a step and looked happy.
"Well, Miss Hermione, fuel-Air Explosives or FAE disperse an aerosol cloud of fuel which is ignited by an embedded detonator to produce an explosion. The rapidly expanding wave front due to overpressure flattens all objects within close proximity of the epicenter of the aerosol fuel cloud, and produces debilitating damage well beyond the flattened area. The main destructive force of FAE is high overpressure, useful against soft targets such as minefields, armored vehicles, aircraft parked in the open, and bunkers.
When a shell or projectile containing a fuel in the form of gas, liquid or dust explodes, the fuel or dust like material is introduced into the air to form a cloud. This cloud is then detonated to create a shock wave of extended duration that produces overpressure and expands in all directions. Thermobaric explosives operate on similar technical principles as the FAE. In a thermobaric weapon, the fuel consists of a monopropellant and energetic particles. A monopropellant is normally being used as rocket propellant or fuel. The monopropellant detonates in a manner similar to TNT while the particles burn rapidly in the surrounding air later in time, resulting an intense fireball and high blast overpressure. The term "thermobaric" is derived from the effects of temperature and pressure on the target." The General was pacing again with his hands on his back."
Hermione looked thoughtfully.
"What does he say now, Hermione?" asked Harry confused.
"Fuel-air weapons work by detonating a charge within a bomb. The contents in the bomb, which contains explosive gases, liquids or finely powdered explosives, form an aerosol cloud. This cloud is then ignited and the following fireball sears the surrounding area while consuming the oxygen in this area. The lack of oxygen creates an enormous overpressure," answered Hermione, still looking thoughtfully.
"Yes," said the General pleased. "This overpressure, or blast wave, is the primary casualty-producing force. In several dozen microseconds, the pressure at the center of the explosion can reach 427 pounds per square inch, which is 30 kilograms per square centimeter - normal atmospheric pressure at sea level is 14.7 pounds per square inch with a temperature between 2,500-3,000 degrees Centigrade. This is 1.5 to 2 times greater than the overpressure caused by conventional explosives. Personnel under the cloud are literally crushed to death. Outside the cloud area, the blast wave travels at some 3,000 meters per second. The resultant vacuum pulls in loose objects to fill the void. As a result, a fuel-air explosive can have the effect of a tactical nuclear weapon without residual radiation."
Harry looked confused. "That means that when you use such fuel weapon, you have the same as an atomic weapon, except no radiation, only death," he said slowly.
"That is basically correct," answered the General.
"Well, why didn't you say this before?" asked Harry incredible.
"How are we going to use those things on the undead and Voldemort?" asked Harry.
"Well, we can deliver a FAE or FAX in several ways, the most effective way in our case is a rocket," said Prince Philip.
"Do you know where Voldemort is, Harry?" asked Hermione skeptically.
"Yes, he is at the other side of the undead," answered Harry.
"How do you know that? Or do you have visions about him?" asked the skeptical Hermione.
"I don't have visions, but it is the only logical explanation," Harry answered and looked thoughtfully at Hermione, then the General.
"I don't agree if that is so logical," said Hermione. "I mean, he can be anywhere, and don't tell me that he is the one who is creating such impossible number of undead. It might be that they come from somewhere else!"
"Well, that is not totally true, Miss Granger. I have here aerial photographs, which proves exactly that Lord-baron is right about a certain source at the beginning of the masses of undead and they all move towards the castle," the General said. "According our calculations, there are at the moment zero point nine eight five million undead between the point of creation and here. The undead are streaming from somewhere one point six kilometers away towards the castle," the General said.
"What are they doing here at the castle," asked Su. It was the first time she was asking a question, and she was worried if they would run into problems, they could not solve. Also those Muggle soldiers were weird, and very technical. She knew about Muggle technology, and she spoke several times with Muggle technicians, and they had the tendency to talk only in a certain jargon. They talk much too technical for her and her poor education.
"We don't know, Lady-Baroness," answered the General politely.
"They are trying to rip the walls into pieces," answered Harry.
Everyone looked at Harry. "How do you know that?" asked Hermione.
"I visited the core, and the only thing what was there was a central chamber and a ring. The ring is for the Master of the Castle and that one I am wearing," he said.
"What does it do?" asked Ginny, eying the ring.
"It let me see everywhere in the castle," answered Harry. "It gives me also an overview of the resources in the castle, and that gave me the answer that we have only about one week before the magical reserves are depleted."
"Can't you look beyond the castle itself with your ring, Harry?" asked Hermione.
"No, I can't," said Harry. "I can only see what happens outside the castle up to a hundred meters from its walls."
"How are we going to destroy those undead?" asked Hermione.
"If I can make a suggestion, Lord-Baron," said the General. "I have a detailed plan."
Harry nodded.
"We have a XM1060 40mm Thermobaric Grenade ready for use," said the General satisfied. "It is a critical tool for military operations in urban terrain and it provides soldiers with a significantly greater probability of incapacitation within the effective radius. We have a delivery mechanism and a carpet target," ended the General satisfied and looked pleased.
Harry looked expectantly at Hermione, who sighed.
"The General means that he has special grenades, which can be shot using large guns and the destruction is total. He wants to shoot the grenades in the form of a carpet with certain distances between the blasts," ended Hermione, looking at the General to see if she was correct.
The man looked happily and nodded. "That's what I said," he smirked.
Harry snorted, and the girls looked thoughtfully.
"A gun is like a wand, isn't it?" asked Parvati.
"It's like a metal hollow tube," answered Hermione. "In that tube they place a large bullet, or in this case the bomb, they will explode a special explosive at the base of the tube, and through the pressure of the explosion, the bomb will be shot out of the tube with great force and flies to the place of impact."
"What is a bomb?" asked Pertine Zabini mystified.
"That is a device, which explodes. When it explodes, it hurts or kills everyone nearby," answered Parvati.
Pertine looked strangely at Parvati. "Well, I followed Muggle Studies at Hogwarts," huffed Parvati.
Harry ignored the other conversations and he walked towards the windows. He looked outside and he saw the undead filling the ground outside. When he looked further away, the only thing he saw were the undead, slowly moving towards the castle.
He concentrated himself on the ring ... he wanted to see what the status was of the castle, but everything still felt alright. When he received the view of the outside through the ring, he gasped. The undead seem to be able to learn something! The undead were climbing over each other to form a mountain of undead. At the north corner of the castle he saw that they reached five meters high, and he inspected quickly the rest of the surroundings of the castle. In the western corner, near the clock tower of the castle, he saw that the undead also reached the five meters. They had about three meters to go and then they reached the small platform, from where they could penetrate the castle through the windows, which were located over there.
Harry turned towards the people behind him and walked quickly to the Queen.
"Grandmother, we don't have much time," Harry said. "The undead are building mountains of undead bodies, and they reach already five meters high. Very soon they will be able to penetrate the castle from the windows. I think we need to make the decision what we are going to do."
The Queen looked at her military commanders.
"The General looked fierce and determined, while the Major looked grim.
"Bite my bullet, let's get them," he growled. "General?"
The General grinned. "Let's wipe them out," he said.
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Voldemort, aka Tom riddle had an excellent time. He could see the castle far away and he grinned, when he managed to summon another dead from hell. With his wand ready to prepare himself for the next one, he was thinking what he was going to do with all those undead. He knew that the castle's security was never breached, and he really wanted the one who could proof that he was simply the greatest wizard of all times, greater then Dumbledore and Merlin together, and definitely better then that Potter brat. He wished that he could see the face of the Potter brat when he was looking outside his window and see all the beautiful undead he had summoned.
It's truly a pity that his wonderful dragon was destroyed, because it took him a lot of effort to summon the dead spirit of the long gone ancient dragon, but he managed. For thousands of years the dragons once ruled the world, enormous fearless creatures, unbelievingly strong, big and indestructible, were once flying over the earth, King and Queen of the earth over all animals; they were stronger then the lizards, which crept that time on earth as well, what the Muggers called dinosaurs.
But not all was lost, because he knew of five of such creatures, buried deeply under a layer of rock and stone, and he could summon them as well, as long as he had the time to do so. But first things first, he needed to have his army, and that was what he was doing. An army of uncountable undead, which he would unleash on the castle, and when that was destroyed, he planned to march his army of undead on London, destroying everything, killing anyone, and he grinned again.
His partners, the summoned Dumbledore and Lilith were helping him in their own ways. Dumbledore was helping him with preparing an attack on the Ministry, and Lilith was working on the dreams of the Minister and Aurors. He wanted to have total victory, and when he would be finished, he would let the Potter brat suffer. He would start by kicking Potter out of that castle, and then he would destroy the Potter brat politically, and then it would be time that he would take the Potter brat personally by killing that bastard.
When Lucius's son contacted him, he could not help to scream of pleasure, because the revenge would be total. He told the brat to wait until they would meet each other, because he had some special instructions for him and his tort of a wife. How Potter could do this to a pure blood, he thought and he grinned. He could not help but to admire the revenge of Potter. At least the boy had some style, he thought amused.
Ah, another undead ready, he thought, when a body rose out of the ground of the ancient burial place with a yelp. He prepared himself again for the next undead. The work for calling an undead was not much of an effort for him, because he did this so many times, that the work went automatically, he didn't need to concentrate anymore, not even to pay attention when he incarnated the summoning. The hell was full of dead ... all those humans of all times, burning there in that place, and they were all available for him, thanks to the devil, the husband of Lilith.
Voldemort laughed, because it was so funny, and all of that was Potter's own fault. He had irritated Lilith and her husband, a major devil from the seventh level in hell. The devil was so angry with Potter that he decided to help him getting rid of Potter and all other humans, which associated them selves with him. He was aware that the deal of the devil was very profitable, because by unleashing the undead, he would receive many souls in return.
And thanks to Potter's own mistake, he had an army available of millions of undead, all being made available by the husband of Lilith. It's a pity that Potter didn't know, because it would be very pleasurable the face of Potter when he would find out.
Voldemort's smile faltered somewhat, because thinking about the devil and his wrath made him feel somewhat uneasy, because the Potter brat managed to irritate a major devil, a feat he would never be able to do. And that means that there was something more on that Potter brat then he suspected. The fact that Potter could kill the daughters of Lilith was also something very strange. He might have had luck, but killing six of them?
Voldemort's concentration faltered somewhat, but then he banished the thoughts about Potter out of his mind and concentrated in summoning another undead from hell. After ten minutes of work, the work became automatic again, and his thoughts started too wander again.
It is a pity that he could not find the Necrowombicon book. It was rumored, according to Voldemort's sources, that it contained what was known as Death Walking, and that the book was hidden in the sacred Necrowombicon, deep within the Temple of Death.
He knew that there were two ways to get that knowledge. First a spell to unlock the abilities of the book, and the second method was reading the book itself. And the Necrowombicon was not a normal book, it was a book of knowledge transfer; you don't read it, but you let the book read the reader. Oh, all those secrets, which could be unleashed. In this book were the perfect secrets stored to change a dead person into a dead intelligent slave; it creates a powerful creature of the Living Dead; sentient, capable of rational, cognizant thought and a perfect slave, and it never needed sleep or food, it only worked its wicked ways.
Voldemort sighed. The husband of Lilith was not so happy with his question, and his answer was something Voldemort would not like to hear again, but with his current army of undead at his disposal, he could not complain ... much. And the supply was really endless. Of all the undead he lost, he simply got back, because when the undead were killed, he summoned them again, and he grinned again.
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Air Commodore Clive Bairsto stared wordless in the receiver. In all the years he was working for the RAF, he never received such a strange and lethal telephone call. He, as the base commander of RAF Leuchars is responsible for many things, but the order he just had received from His Royal Highness Prince Philip beat anything he ever had experienced. The Prince wanted to launch an assault on own territory with FAE!
The commander, who was not only base commander, but Air Officer Scotland as well, was contemplating which ammunition he must use for the assault. He decided to divide the problem in several parts. First the order of Prince Philip; he was not able to refuse such order at the first place, so it was a good idea to prepare himself for that. On the other side, this order was so unconventional and dangerous, that he needed to check it out for the fourth time as well, because you never know.
Air Commodore Clive Bairsto took the telephone and asked to speak with Captain David McAdoo. Captain McAdoo knocked on his door.
"Come in," answered the Air Commodore.
"You wanted to speak with me, Sir?" asked the Captain.
"Yes, McAdoo, sit down."
The Captain sat down and waited for the Commodore to speak.
"I want that you prepare a battery of M109 Howitzers to fire five units of M1060 Thermobaric ammunition on these coordinates. You have ten minutes to be ready, "the Commodore said in a flat tone.
The eyes of the Captain went wide.
"Is this a drill, Commodore?" asked the Captain. He was shocked. It never happened that anyone fired a FAE between civilians, and he had never dreamt that they would fire a FAE in own territory.
"No, I'm afraid this is not a drill, Captain."
The Captain looked at his Commodore, but said nothing. It was clear that something was going on, and he did not like it. Normally, his life in the military was clear and straight to the point. Where was the enemy? Oh, there was the enemy, and action would follow. The concept of attack, defense and counter attack was always very clear. When there was an exercise that was clear as well, here they could play the roles of only defender, the attacker or simply be the dump victim.
The last time the base saw any action was in the conflicts all over the world, and Iraq was a textbook example of such conflict. But cold-war scenarios had always given him headaches, because the clear military concepts were vague ... at least.
To receive an order to fie on a certain unknown target was something like a nightmare. God knows who he killed and on what he fired upon. God knows who he would wipe out, and firing an FAE was as bad as firing a nuclear weapon. But who was he to question a direct order.
"Commodore?" he asked.
The Commodore was sitting in his chair watching the internal battle in the form of his Captain. He liked that the Captain had a certain sense, which rose above the normal attitude by simply following an order; it proved that the Captain had some inner strength; he could for sure use during battle or any crises situations.
"I'm afraid that we can't do anything about it at the moment, Captain. Please execute the order," the Commodore said.
The Captain stood up.
"Sir, Yes, Sir," he said.
"I have double checked with the Air Vice-Marshal," the Commodore said absentminded.
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Prince Philip stood up from his chair and started to pace for several minutes. Nobody said anything; everyone was waiting for what the Prince had to say.
"Well," he began. He looked at his watch and sighed. "In about two minutes, M109 Howitzer artillery of the RAF base Leuchars will start launching the FAE. It is to be expected that it will detonate in front of the castle in four minutes and twenty seconds," he said.
"Were there any problems with the launch, Philip?" asked his wife, the Queen.
"No, they only didn't believe me when I ordered the attack. I was forced to repeat the command six times before they were serious enough to start moving," he said grimly. "We really need to do something about this," looking painfully at his wife. "I am not the commander of the armed forces, dear, and it took some pushing around to get them moving," Prince Philip said.
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The AS-90 mobile artillery units were always ready to fire at any target at all times at any target the commanders ordered. Sergeant MacDonald was proud to say that in all his forty two years of service in the RAF, he always executed any order, how ridicules it sounded to him, he simply did his job.
But this order was the strangest he ever had. They needed to use the old M109 Howitzer units to fire five FAE's on the given coordinates, which told him that it was somewhere in Scotland, it was about 109 miles south of the base, and his eyebrows went up.
He looked again at the Captain, but he kept his mouth shut. No officer would ever see him questioning an order, and a direct order from above as well. His men were busy to prepare the old M109 Howitzer to fire the M1060 Thermobaric, or hell fire as his men called the ammunition. Who ever was at the place of impact, he was burning in hell in several minutes.
In exactly four minutes and twenty seconds later, the five M109 Howitzers were ready to fire.
The Sergeant looked at his Captain, who was listening in his radio. Seconds passed, and nobody moved. The Sergeant noticed that the Captain was nervous, and he hoped that this action was nothing illegal. He knew it was impossible that any of his artillery pieces would fire something without the blessing from above, but he could not help feeling uncomfortable.
"Sergeant?" the Captain said.
"Sir?"
"Fire"
The Sergeant turned and smiled. What ever was there, it would stop existing within moments, he thought.
The sounds of the firing five M109 Howitzers was satisfying, as usual.
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Voldemort was finished with another undead, and he stretched his newly formed body. He as so happy with Lilith and especially her husband, because he taught Voldemort how to create a new body for Voldemort, and he almost felt thankful for the old devil. This body felt great, it had enormous strength, endurance and beauty, but the only setback was that it needed a lot of blood to continue functioning.
Blood was something which Voldemort did not like. It was not the question of getting the blood ... that was alright ... it was even pleasant for his ears when the victims were screaming, but the taste of the blood was appalling. The pigs he had stolen from a farmer here nearby were screaming very pleasantly when he killed them and drank their blood, but again, the taste. Human blood was out of the question, the devil told him. Human blood was much too clean for his body; the only blood what was perfect was the blood of pigs, adult pigs.
Voldemort sighed. His new body felt good though. He would not let anything touch it, because he refused to go back to a fried body like last time in the burned out castle of the Baron. He grinned at that thought. As revenge, he summoned the Baron as first of his undead army, because the Baron was one of the 'guests' of the personal hell of the devil. That would teach the Baron some manners to let Voldemort be burned in his castle. How rude the Baron was to let that happen.
A strange sound was noticeable. Voldemort had excellent ears with his new body, and his eyesight was even better. That sound was like the sound of a ... whistle? The sound only became stronger, and Voldemort looked up into the direction where the sound came from. The shrieking sound became even more noticeable and he thought he saw something moving from the north in high speed ... straight at him ... no ... a little bit towards the castle!
Then he became aware of more small pecks coming from the same direction ... the north ... strange ... what could that be? Voldemort took his wand from his robes; thank the devil and Satan that he could safe his wand from the fire of the castle. He prepared to defend himself against ... what ever that was.
One of the small pecks became fast larger and it fell on the field between his position and the castle, and all hell broke lose.
Five hundred meters from the stunned Voldemort, in the middle of the sea of undead, a ball of hellish fire appeared, extremely fast expanding to all directions; forming a cloud of fire straight from hell, growing many times in size within a fraction of a second, sucking everything into the cloud, debris, undead, everything; then the sonic boom of the explosion, followed by an even greater explosion of fire.
What magic was this? How could Potter ... it was magic! Who was attacking him? Short thoughts flashed through his mind and he was flabbergasted. He had no idea what kind of magic could result in such a terrible destruction.
Voldemort's eyes were instantly burned, as well as his hair, his body turned crispy black again, and he was thrown high into the air by the air pressure, feeling the extreme heath burning his legs instantly. And the next ball of hellish fire exploded very close to him, his body immediately sucked into the cloud of fire, and everything went black from that point.
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From the castle, the Princes, the Queen, Harry and the girls were witnessing something, they had never seen before. One moment everything looked dreadful as usual, rows after rows of endless undead were marching slowly to the castle, and the next moment the scene was ripped apart by a cloudlike explosion of hellish fire.
It was not that Harry ever had seen an explosion on television, he had. Several times when he was small, he crept into the kitchen and watched from his position the television, which showed a war movie. Several times he saw that large cannons were firing on battlefields, and explosions of the grenades everywhere.
He also saw one time the explosion of an atomic weapon on television, and the mushroom like cloud was very specific, and was associated with the atomic weapon, the weapon of doom, the last defense during the cold war.
But here he was witness of something else. The explosion did not look like an explosion he witnessed on the television, it was totally different. The explosion was nothing else then a ball of fire, which expanded rapidly ... almost immediately, then it seemed to shrink ... like it was gathering momentum for the final boost, and then it exploded in all its beautiful violence.
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A/N: Editor of this chapter is Dave
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A/N: Editor of this chapter is Dave
A/N: Thank you Mechconstrictor for the General Douglas MacArthur quotes
A/N: I mention in this chapter the book 'The Necrowombicon'. The Necronomicon is a fictional book from the stories of horror writer H.P. Lovecraft. It was first mentioned in Lovecraft's 1924 short story "The Hound", written in 1922, though its purported author, the "Mad Arab" Abdul Alhazred, had been quoted a year earlier in Lovecraft's "The Nameless City". Among other things, the work contains an account of the Old Ones, their history, and the means for summoning them. Other authors such as August Derleth and Clark Ashton Smith also cited it in their works; Lovecraft approved, believing such common allusions built up "a background of evil verisimilitude." Many readers have believed it to be a real work, with booksellers and librarians receiving many requests for it; pranksters have listed it in rare book catalogues, and one smuggled a card for it into the Yale University Library's card catalog.
A/N: Scene from the last chapter.
"It's a Neutron bomb," said Hermione. She turned to the Prince. What radiation dose are you talking about, Your Highness?"
"Six Gy is normally considered too be lethal, but in reality it will only kill the half of the victims immediately, and the rest will die only after several days." answered the Prince.
"If we use a dose of eighty Gy, that it would kill everyone immediately, except that the collateral damage is enormous, like that of a conventional nuclear weapon."
"What is the damage radius, Your Highness?" asked Hermione again.
"The range of Six Gy bomb is about seven hundred meters for killing everyone instantly, and eleven hundred meters to kill after several days. The neutron flux can induce significant amounts of short-lived secondary radioactivity in the environment in the high flux region near the burst point."
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"There is also an alternative," said Colonel Burleys.
"That's right," drowned General Rand Gunn, the commander of the American Special Forces. "A better alternative is the implementation of a thermobaric weapon."
Harry and Hermione frowned.
"You mean ... well ... what is it exactly?" asked Hermione.
"Well, Miss Granger, Thermobaric weapons use atmospheric oxygen, instead of carrying explosives. They are also called high-impulse thermobaric weapons or HIT, fuel-air explosives or FAE or HAX, or sometimes fuel-air munitions, heat and pressure weapons, or vacuum bombs. They produce more explosive energy for a given size than do other conventional explosives, but have the downside of being less predictable in their effect," the General ended.
Hermione frowned now.
"What do you mean with 'being less predictable in their effect', General?" asked Harry.
"Well, there are several situations, which might lead to less predictable in their effect," began the General. "Some FAE uses fuels, such as ethylene oxide and propylene oxide, are highly toxic. A device using such fuels is very dangerous even if the fuel fails to ignite; the device then becomes essentially a chemical weapon.
Another factor, which might be less to control is the impact itself. Fuel-air explosives are derived from accidents in civil industries like accidental fuel-air explosions as a result of a boiling liquid expanding vapor explosion, for example when a tank containing liquefied petroleum gas bursts. Silo explosions, caused by the ignition of finely-powdered atmospheric dust, are another example. All those explosions were out of control and it was not possible to predict how powerful the explosion was."
"What is the difference between this weapon and the neutron bomb, General?" asked Hermione.
The General beamed when he heard the question and he stood up.
"Well, Miss Granger, there are of course difference, but the end effect is almost the same. The main thing is that both devices will do its job," the General started. He breathed deeply in, expanded his chest, both hands behind his back and started to walk to and from the people in the Foyer. The Queen had a vague smile on her face and the Princes were grinning now. Here he goes again, whispered Prince Charles.
"The effects produced by FAE's are often likened to the effects produced by low-yield nuclear weapons, but without the problems of radiation. However, this is inexact; for all current and foreseen sub-kiloton-yield nuclear weapon designs, prompt radiation effects predominate, producing some secondary heating; very little of the nominal yield is actually delivered as blast. The significant injury dealt by either weapon on a targeted population is nonetheless great," ended the General, looking expectantly at Hermione.
"What did he say?" whispered Harry loudly.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "He said that a FAE is as destructive as a nuclear weapon, but no radiation, but unpredictable during impact," Hermione summarized.
The general looked amazed at Hermione.
"Why can't I say something like that," he said pleased. "If you ever want to have a job, you can start immediately as my spokes man ... eh woman," the General said.
Hermione blushed. "But General, that is against the rules, because I am British, not American citizen."
The general expanded his chest again and looked proudly around him. "The greatest man in history with the name of General Douglas MacArthur said once that 'You are remembered for the rules you break' and 'Rules are mostly made to be broken and are too often for the lazy to hide behind'. My life is dedicated to that great man, who fought against tyranny and for freedom. Everything what you have here is thanks to men like him."
Hermione nodded hesitatingly.
"How does it such weapon work, General?" asked Hermione.
The General skipped a step and looked happy.
"Well, Miss Hermione, fuel-Air Explosives or FAE disperse an aerosol cloud of fuel which is ignited by an embedded detonator to produce an explosion. The rapidly expanding wave front due to overpressure flattens all objects within close proximity of the epicenter of the aerosol fuel cloud, and produces debilitating damage well beyond the flattened area. The main destructive force of FAE is high overpressure, useful against soft targets such as minefields, armored vehicles, aircraft parked in the open, and bunkers.
When a shell or projectile containing a fuel in the form of gas, liquid or dust explodes, the fuel or dust like material is introduced into the air to form a cloud. This cloud is then detonated to create a shock wave of extended duration that produces overpressure and expands in all directions. Thermobaric explosives operate on similar technical principles as the FAE. In a thermobaric weapon, the fuel consists of a monopropellant and energetic particles. A monopropellant is normally being used as rocket propellant or fuel. The monopropellant detonates in a manner similar to TNT while the particles burn rapidly in the surrounding air later in time, resulting an intense fireball and high blast overpressure. The term "thermobaric" is derived from the effects of temperature and pressure on the target." The General was pacing again with his hands on his back."
Hermione looked thoughtfully.
"What does he say now, Hermione?" asked Harry confused.
"Fuel-air weapons work by detonating a charge within a bomb. The contents in the bomb, which contains explosive gases, liquids or finely powdered explosives, form an aerosol cloud. This cloud is then ignited and the following fireball sears the surrounding area while consuming the oxygen in this area. The lack of oxygen creates an enormous overpressure," answered Hermione, still looking thoughtfully.
"Yes," said the General pleased. "This overpressure, or blast wave, is the primary casualty-producing force. In several dozen microseconds, the pressure at the center of the explosion can reach 427 pounds per square inch, which is 30 kilograms per square centimeter - normal atmospheric pressure at sea level is 14.7 pounds per square inch with a temperature between 2,500-3,000 degrees Centigrade. This is 1.5 to 2 times greater than the overpressure caused by conventional explosives. Personnel under the cloud are literally crushed to death. Outside the cloud area, the blast wave travels at some 3,000 meters per second. The resultant vacuum pulls in loose objects to fill the void. As a result, a fuel-air explosive can have the effect of a tactical nuclear weapon without residual radiation."
Harry looked confused. "That means that when you use such fuel weapon, you have the same as an atomic weapon, except no radiation, only death," he said slowly.
"That is basically correct," answered the General.
"Well, why didn't you say this before?" asked Harry incredible.
"How are we going to use those things on the undead and Voldemort?" asked Harry.
"Well, we can deliver a FAE or FAX in several ways, the most effective way in our case is a rocket," said Prince Philip.
"Do you know where Voldemort is, Harry?" asked Hermione skeptically.
"Yes, he is at the other side of the undead," answered Harry.
"How do you know that? Or do you have visions about him?" asked the skeptical Hermione.
"I don't have visions, but it is the only logical explanation," Harry answered and looked thoughtfully at Hermione, then the General.
"I don't agree if that is so logical," said Hermione. "I mean, he can be anywhere, and don't tell me that he is the one who is creating such impossible number of undead. It might be that they come from somewhere else!"
"Well, that is not totally true, Miss Granger. I have here aerial photographs, which proves exactly that Lord-baron is right about a certain source at the beginning of the masses of undead and they all move towards the castle," the General said. "According our calculations, there are at the moment zero point nine eight five million undead between the point of creation and here. The undead are streaming from somewhere one point six kilometers away towards the castle," the General said.
"What are they doing here at the castle," asked Su. It was the first time she was asking a question, and she was worried if they would run into problems, they could not solve. Also those Muggle soldiers were weird, and very technical. She knew about Muggle technology, and she spoke several times with Muggle technicians, and they had the tendency to talk only in a certain jargon. They talk much too technical for her and her poor education.
"We don't know, Lady-Baroness," answered the General politely.
"They are trying to rip the walls into pieces," answered Harry.
Everyone looked at Harry. "How do you know that?" asked Hermione.
"I visited the core, and the only thing what was there was a central chamber and a ring. The ring is for the Master of the Castle and that one I am wearing," he said.
"What does it do?" asked Ginny, eying the ring.
"It let me see everywhere in the castle," answered Harry. "It gives me also an overview of the resources in the castle, and that gave me the answer that we have only about one week before the magical reserves are depleted."
"Can't you look beyond the castle itself with your ring, Harry?" asked Hermione.
"No, I can't," said Harry. "I can only see what happens outside the castle up to a hundred meters from its walls."
"How are we going to destroy those undead?" asked Hermione.
"If I can make a suggestion, Lord-Baron," said the General. "I have a detailed plan."
Harry nodded.
"We have a XM1060 40mm Thermobaric Grenade ready for use," said the General satisfied. "It is a critical tool for military operations in urban terrain and it provides soldiers with a significantly greater probability of incapacitation within the effective radius. We have a delivery mechanism and a carpet target," ended the General satisfied and looked pleased.
Harry looked expectantly at Hermione, who sighed.
"The General means that he has special grenades, which can be shot using large guns and the destruction is total. He wants to shoot the grenades in the form of a carpet with certain distances between the blasts," ended Hermione, looking at the General to see if she was correct.
The man looked happily and nodded. "That's what I said," he smirked.
Harry snorted, and the girls looked thoughtfully.
"A gun is like a wand, isn't it?" asked Parvati.
"It's like a metal hollow tube," answered Hermione. "In that tube they place a large bullet, or in this case the bomb, they will explode a special explosive at the base of the tube, and through the pressure of the explosion, the bomb will be shot out of the tube with great force and flies to the place of impact."
"What is a bomb?" asked Pertine Zabini mystified.
"That is a device, which explodes. When it explodes, it hurts or kills everyone nearby," answered Parvati.
Pertine looked strangely at Parvati. "Well, I followed Muggle Studies at Hogwarts," huffed Parvati.
Harry ignored the other conversations and he walked towards the windows. He looked outside and he saw the undead filling the ground outside. When he looked further away, the only thing he saw were the undead, slowly moving towards the castle.
He concentrated himself on the ring ... he wanted to see what the status was of the castle, but everything still felt alright. When he received the view of the outside through the ring, he gasped. The undead seem to be able to learn something! The undead were climbing over each other to form a mountain of undead. At the north corner of the castle he saw that they reached five meters high, and he inspected quickly the rest of the surroundings of the castle. In the western corner, near the clock tower of the castle, he saw that the undead also reached the five meters. They had about three meters to go and then they reached the small platform, from where they could penetrate the castle through the windows, which were located over there.
Harry turned towards the people behind him and walked quickly to the Queen.
"Grandmother, we don't have much time," Harry said. "The undead are building mountains of undead bodies, and they reach already five meters high. Very soon they will be able to penetrate the castle from the windows. I think we need to make the decision what we are going to do."
The Queen looked at her military commanders.
"The General looked fierce and determined, while the Major looked grim.
"Bite my bullet, let's get them," he growled. "General?"
The General grinned. "Let's wipe them out," he said.
________________________________________
Voldemort, aka Tom riddle had an excellent time. He could see the castle far away and he grinned, when he managed to summon another dead from hell. With his wand ready to prepare himself for the next one, he was thinking what he was going to do with all those undead. He knew that the castle's security was never breached, and he really wanted the one who could proof that he was simply the greatest wizard of all times, greater then Dumbledore and Merlin together, and definitely better then that Potter brat. He wished that he could see the face of the Potter brat when he was looking outside his window and see all the beautiful undead he had summoned.
It's truly a pity that his wonderful dragon was destroyed, because it took him a lot of effort to summon the dead spirit of the long gone ancient dragon, but he managed. For thousands of years the dragons once ruled the world, enormous fearless creatures, unbelievingly strong, big and indestructible, were once flying over the earth, King and Queen of the earth over all animals; they were stronger then the lizards, which crept that time on earth as well, what the Muggers called dinosaurs.
But not all was lost, because he knew of five of such creatures, buried deeply under a layer of rock and stone, and he could summon them as well, as long as he had the time to do so. But first things first, he needed to have his army, and that was what he was doing. An army of uncountable undead, which he would unleash on the castle, and when that was destroyed, he planned to march his army of undead on London, destroying everything, killing anyone, and he grinned again.
His partners, the summoned Dumbledore and Lilith were helping him in their own ways. Dumbledore was helping him with preparing an attack on the Ministry, and Lilith was working on the dreams of the Minister and Aurors. He wanted to have total victory, and when he would be finished, he would let the Potter brat suffer. He would start by kicking Potter out of that castle, and then he would destroy the Potter brat politically, and then it would be time that he would take the Potter brat personally by killing that bastard.
When Lucius's son contacted him, he could not help to scream of pleasure, because the revenge would be total. He told the brat to wait until they would meet each other, because he had some special instructions for him and his tort of a wife. How Potter could do this to a pure blood, he thought and he grinned. He could not help but to admire the revenge of Potter. At least the boy had some style, he thought amused.
Ah, another undead ready, he thought, when a body rose out of the ground of the ancient burial place with a yelp. He prepared himself again for the next undead. The work for calling an undead was not much of an effort for him, because he did this so many times, that the work went automatically, he didn't need to concentrate anymore, not even to pay attention when he incarnated the summoning. The hell was full of dead ... all those humans of all times, burning there in that place, and they were all available for him, thanks to the devil, the husband of Lilith.
Voldemort laughed, because it was so funny, and all of that was Potter's own fault. He had irritated Lilith and her husband, a major devil from the seventh level in hell. The devil was so angry with Potter that he decided to help him getting rid of Potter and all other humans, which associated them selves with him. He was aware that the deal of the devil was very profitable, because by unleashing the undead, he would receive many souls in return.
And thanks to Potter's own mistake, he had an army available of millions of undead, all being made available by the husband of Lilith. It's a pity that Potter didn't know, because it would be very pleasurable the face of Potter when he would find out.
Voldemort's smile faltered somewhat, because thinking about the devil and his wrath made him feel somewhat uneasy, because the Potter brat managed to irritate a major devil, a feat he would never be able to do. And that means that there was something more on that Potter brat then he suspected. The fact that Potter could kill the daughters of Lilith was also something very strange. He might have had luck, but killing six of them?
Voldemort's concentration faltered somewhat, but then he banished the thoughts about Potter out of his mind and concentrated in summoning another undead from hell. After ten minutes of work, the work became automatic again, and his thoughts started too wander again.
It is a pity that he could not find the Necrowombicon book. It was rumored, according to Voldemort's sources, that it contained what was known as Death Walking, and that the book was hidden in the sacred Necrowombicon, deep within the Temple of Death.
He knew that there were two ways to get that knowledge. First a spell to unlock the abilities of the book, and the second method was reading the book itself. And the Necrowombicon was not a normal book, it was a book of knowledge transfer; you don't read it, but you let the book read the reader. Oh, all those secrets, which could be unleashed. In this book were the perfect secrets stored to change a dead person into a dead intelligent slave; it creates a powerful creature of the Living Dead; sentient, capable of rational, cognizant thought and a perfect slave, and it never needed sleep or food, it only worked its wicked ways.
Voldemort sighed. The husband of Lilith was not so happy with his question, and his answer was something Voldemort would not like to hear again, but with his current army of undead at his disposal, he could not complain ... much. And the supply was really endless. Of all the undead he lost, he simply got back, because when the undead were killed, he summoned them again, and he grinned again.
-----
Air Commodore Clive Bairsto stared wordless in the receiver. In all the years he was working for the RAF, he never received such a strange and lethal telephone call. He, as the base commander of RAF Leuchars is responsible for many things, but the order he just had received from His Royal Highness Prince Philip beat anything he ever had experienced. The Prince wanted to launch an assault on own territory with FAE!
The commander, who was not only base commander, but Air Officer Scotland as well, was contemplating which ammunition he must use for the assault. He decided to divide the problem in several parts. First the order of Prince Philip; he was not able to refuse such order at the first place, so it was a good idea to prepare himself for that. On the other side, this order was so unconventional and dangerous, that he needed to check it out for the fourth time as well, because you never know.
Air Commodore Clive Bairsto took the telephone and asked to speak with Captain David McAdoo. Captain McAdoo knocked on his door.
"Come in," answered the Air Commodore.
"You wanted to speak with me, Sir?" asked the Captain.
"Yes, McAdoo, sit down."
The Captain sat down and waited for the Commodore to speak.
"I want that you prepare a battery of M109 Howitzers to fire five units of M1060 Thermobaric ammunition on these coordinates. You have ten minutes to be ready, "the Commodore said in a flat tone.
The eyes of the Captain went wide.
"Is this a drill, Commodore?" asked the Captain. He was shocked. It never happened that anyone fired a FAE between civilians, and he had never dreamt that they would fire a FAE in own territory.
"No, I'm afraid this is not a drill, Captain."
The Captain looked at his Commodore, but said nothing. It was clear that something was going on, and he did not like it. Normally, his life in the military was clear and straight to the point. Where was the enemy? Oh, there was the enemy, and action would follow. The concept of attack, defense and counter attack was always very clear. When there was an exercise that was clear as well, here they could play the roles of only defender, the attacker or simply be the dump victim.
The last time the base saw any action was in the conflicts all over the world, and Iraq was a textbook example of such conflict. But cold-war scenarios had always given him headaches, because the clear military concepts were vague ... at least.
To receive an order to fie on a certain unknown target was something like a nightmare. God knows who he killed and on what he fired upon. God knows who he would wipe out, and firing an FAE was as bad as firing a nuclear weapon. But who was he to question a direct order.
"Commodore?" he asked.
The Commodore was sitting in his chair watching the internal battle in the form of his Captain. He liked that the Captain had a certain sense, which rose above the normal attitude by simply following an order; it proved that the Captain had some inner strength; he could for sure use during battle or any crises situations.
"I'm afraid that we can't do anything about it at the moment, Captain. Please execute the order," the Commodore said.
The Captain stood up.
"Sir, Yes, Sir," he said.
"I have double checked with the Air Vice-Marshal," the Commodore said absentminded.
-----
Prince Philip stood up from his chair and started to pace for several minutes. Nobody said anything; everyone was waiting for what the Prince had to say.
"Well," he began. He looked at his watch and sighed. "In about two minutes, M109 Howitzer artillery of the RAF base Leuchars will start launching the FAE. It is to be expected that it will detonate in front of the castle in four minutes and twenty seconds," he said.
"Were there any problems with the launch, Philip?" asked his wife, the Queen.
"No, they only didn't believe me when I ordered the attack. I was forced to repeat the command six times before they were serious enough to start moving," he said grimly. "We really need to do something about this," looking painfully at his wife. "I am not the commander of the armed forces, dear, and it took some pushing around to get them moving," Prince Philip said.
-----
The AS-90 mobile artillery units were always ready to fire at any target at all times at any target the commanders ordered. Sergeant MacDonald was proud to say that in all his forty two years of service in the RAF, he always executed any order, how ridicules it sounded to him, he simply did his job.
But this order was the strangest he ever had. They needed to use the old M109 Howitzer units to fire five FAE's on the given coordinates, which told him that it was somewhere in Scotland, it was about 109 miles south of the base, and his eyebrows went up.
He looked again at the Captain, but he kept his mouth shut. No officer would ever see him questioning an order, and a direct order from above as well. His men were busy to prepare the old M109 Howitzer to fire the M1060 Thermobaric, or hell fire as his men called the ammunition. Who ever was at the place of impact, he was burning in hell in several minutes.
In exactly four minutes and twenty seconds later, the five M109 Howitzers were ready to fire.
The Sergeant looked at his Captain, who was listening in his radio. Seconds passed, and nobody moved. The Sergeant noticed that the Captain was nervous, and he hoped that this action was nothing illegal. He knew it was impossible that any of his artillery pieces would fire something without the blessing from above, but he could not help feeling uncomfortable.
"Sergeant?" the Captain said.
"Sir?"
"Fire"
The Sergeant turned and smiled. What ever was there, it would stop existing within moments, he thought.
The sounds of the firing five M109 Howitzers was satisfying, as usual.
-----
Voldemort was finished with another undead, and he stretched his newly formed body. He as so happy with Lilith and especially her husband, because he taught Voldemort how to create a new body for Voldemort, and he almost felt thankful for the old devil. This body felt great, it had enormous strength, endurance and beauty, but the only setback was that it needed a lot of blood to continue functioning.
Blood was something which Voldemort did not like. It was not the question of getting the blood ... that was alright ... it was even pleasant for his ears when the victims were screaming, but the taste of the blood was appalling. The pigs he had stolen from a farmer here nearby were screaming very pleasantly when he killed them and drank their blood, but again, the taste. Human blood was out of the question, the devil told him. Human blood was much too clean for his body; the only blood what was perfect was the blood of pigs, adult pigs.
Voldemort sighed. His new body felt good though. He would not let anything touch it, because he refused to go back to a fried body like last time in the burned out castle of the Baron. He grinned at that thought. As revenge, he summoned the Baron as first of his undead army, because the Baron was one of the 'guests' of the personal hell of the devil. That would teach the Baron some manners to let Voldemort be burned in his castle. How rude the Baron was to let that happen.
A strange sound was noticeable. Voldemort had excellent ears with his new body, and his eyesight was even better. That sound was like the sound of a ... whistle? The sound only became stronger, and Voldemort looked up into the direction where the sound came from. The shrieking sound became even more noticeable and he thought he saw something moving from the north in high speed ... straight at him ... no ... a little bit towards the castle!
Then he became aware of more small pecks coming from the same direction ... the north ... strange ... what could that be? Voldemort took his wand from his robes; thank the devil and Satan that he could safe his wand from the fire of the castle. He prepared to defend himself against ... what ever that was.
One of the small pecks became fast larger and it fell on the field between his position and the castle, and all hell broke lose.
Five hundred meters from the stunned Voldemort, in the middle of the sea of undead, a ball of hellish fire appeared, extremely fast expanding to all directions; forming a cloud of fire straight from hell, growing many times in size within a fraction of a second, sucking everything into the cloud, debris, undead, everything; then the sonic boom of the explosion, followed by an even greater explosion of fire.
What magic was this? How could Potter ... it was magic! Who was attacking him? Short thoughts flashed through his mind and he was flabbergasted. He had no idea what kind of magic could result in such a terrible destruction.
Voldemort's eyes were instantly burned, as well as his hair, his body turned crispy black again, and he was thrown high into the air by the air pressure, feeling the extreme heath burning his legs instantly. And the next ball of hellish fire exploded very close to him, his body immediately sucked into the cloud of fire, and everything went black from that point.
-----
From the castle, the Princes, the Queen, Harry and the girls were witnessing something, they had never seen before. One moment everything looked dreadful as usual, rows after rows of endless undead were marching slowly to the castle, and the next moment the scene was ripped apart by a cloudlike explosion of hellish fire.
It was not that Harry ever had seen an explosion on television, he had. Several times when he was small, he crept into the kitchen and watched from his position the television, which showed a war movie. Several times he saw that large cannons were firing on battlefields, and explosions of the grenades everywhere.
He also saw one time the explosion of an atomic weapon on television, and the mushroom like cloud was very specific, and was associated with the atomic weapon, the weapon of doom, the last defense during the cold war.
But here he was witness of something else. The explosion did not look like an explosion he witnessed on the television, it was totally different. The explosion was nothing else then a ball of fire, which expanded rapidly ... almost immediately, then it seemed to shrink ... like it was gathering momentum for the final boost, and then it exploded in all its beautiful violence.
----
A/N: Editor of this chapter is Dave
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