Blood-Soaked Succession 28 (Patreon)

Chapter 28:

XXX

Harry entered the briefing room to find the others already waiting.

Maps, reports and stacks of parchment covered the long table occupying the centre of the room. Along one wall was hung a map of the world nearly five metres across, covered in coloured pins, notes and lengths of string.

Peter sat apart from everyone else, perched atop another of his machines. The thing resembled an enormous lotus forged from dull grey steel with its petals folded tightly shut around whatever occupied its centre. Thick cables disappeared beneath the floor while delicate brass instruments protruded from between overlapping plates. Every now and then one of the petals shifted a fraction of an inch with a quiet metallic click before settling again.

Ron and Hermione stood near the map in quiet conversation while Draco leafed through a folder of reports. The shades occupied no chairs. Albus and Grindelwald stood beside one another in their usual uneasy truce while Moody rested against the wall observing. James and Sirius had begun arguing over something before Harry entered and continued uninterrupted after he arrived. Lily listened patiently, offering the occasional correction while Peter ignored them all.

Harry walked straight to the map.

Red consumed nearly all of northern Europe. The British Isles, Scandinavia, Germany, Poland, the Balkans and Russia were all under Voldemort's control. The color of blood suited it. Pink spread farther still, marking regions under heavy influence rather than outright control. North America, Australia and large portions of Southeast Asia had all fallen somewhere within Voldemort's political reach.

White remained across southern Europe, much of Africa and Central and South America. Independent. France and Japan in particular were odd ones out, with neighbors on two sides held by the enemy.

Tiny blue marks dotted Europe and Central Asia marking everything the New Order possessed. Grindelwald's old bases they had procured, safe houses and supply depots. Compared to the sea of red it looked rather bleak.

"I have an update," Harry said.

The room quietened.

"The Imperius training succeeded."

Ron looked up first.

"So it happened?"

Harry nodded.

"I cast a spell before Cho completed the incantation. Something she learned yesterday and that I had never used."

Ron smiled. Actually smiled while Albus closed his eyes for a moment before exhaling through his nose. He folded his hands behind his back.

"Then it is time to alter the training."

Harry looked towards him.

"You've adapted to Miss Chang and Miss Weasley. Their instincts, their preferences, even their emotions have become familiar to you. Voldemort will not resemble either woman."

"The connection itself still has room for refinement," Hermione added.

Albus inclined his head.

"Quite. Different duelists. Different emotions. Different intentions. You should learn to anticipate fear as readily as hatred. Confidence as readily as grief."

"That can wait." said Ron. "It's time he gets back into the field."

Harry turned towards him.

"Have all the teams returned?"

"Almost." he said, glancing down at his notes. "George's group is still in transit, but he sent word an hour ago that the mission was a success."

Harry nodded once.

"Good."

Albus studied the map.

"Tom has been preparing for a decisive strike."

Harry looked towards him.

"He had been expecting a large scale attack on an important position. The ministry or Hogwarts, perhaps."

James snorted.

"He really thinks we're as big a bunch of monsters as he is."

"Be that as it may," Grindelwald replied, "now is precisely the time to meet his expectations. Our recent operations have all been surgical. Individual targets. Accountants. Quartermasters. Couriers. Safe houses."

Grindelwald gestured towards the growing cluster of blue marks.

"Tom has responded exactly as anticipated. His people are reinforcing individuals instead of fortifications. His mobile units, and even off duty Aurors or death eaters now have triple the manpower. Which makes them no longer ideal targets with the tactic you have been using."

Harry already saw where he was going.

"That means the walls have become thinner around the locations he thought we would go for."

"Precisely."

Harry shook his head.

"Our people aren't ready."

Regulus frowned at him.

"They've been blooded." he said. "And well trained."

"They've assassinated. Sabotaged. Ambushed." Harry said, tapping one finger against the map. "They haven't fought battles. Large scale conflicts on battlefields. Or at least most haven't."

"They have been trained to work in companies and battalions." Moody countered.

"But that's training. Aside from Viktor's cohort none have actually experienced it."

"Then don't attack hard targets." Lily suggested.

She studied the map for another moment before raising one finger towards the white regions bordering Voldemort's territory.

"Pick somewhere soft." she continued. "A target Voldemort doesn't think is important."

Harry remained silent.

He paced slowly before the map, studying the growing sea of red. Lily's suggestion had merit. Soft targets and smaller victories to build confidence before committing the New Order to larger engagements.

He had grown accustomed to wars fought by dozens not thousands.

Assassinations. Sabotage. Ambushes. Raids lasting minutes before disappearing back into the wilderness. They had become very good at those. Better still, they had grown accustomed to winning them cleanly. Operations succeeded and everybody came home. Occasionally somebody needed Cresspool afterwards, but funerals had become pleasantly rare.

He had always known that would not continue forever. The first true battle would cost lives. They had lucked out with Azkaban and Hogwarts, which was the product of very good planning.

"I don't like it," Harry admitted. "I've grown accustomed to not losing people and I'm not ready for the mass casualties of large conflicts. And I don't think my people are yet either. Morale and confidence are high and I want to keep it that way for as long as possible. Especially from an outside point of view."

Hermione folded her arms.

"Then maybe it's time for some peaceful warfare?"

She walked over to the map, placing one finger on France before moving it halfway around the world to Japan.

"Madame Maxime. Mahoutokoro. There are still governments and schools outside Voldemort's influence. We could build relationships. Share intelligence. Offer aid and training. We all prepare together."

She looked back towards Harry.

"We don't have to win the war this year."

Moody scratched at the scar running beneath where his magical eye had been.

"You're proposing a Truman Doctrine of containment."

Most of the room looked at him curiously.

"The Muggles tried it during the Cold War against communist countries, to great success. Keep the fighting around the edges. Contain the enemy. Keep casualties low. Wear him down until the whole rotten structure collapses under its own weight."

Harry considered the map again.

In theory he liked it. But his gaze drifted downward.

He flexed the fingers of his left hand. Grey and black skin shifted over dead muscle. Bone ground softly beneath the flesh with a series of familiar pops as he opened and closed the hand.

If he had decades it was the strategy he would have chosen. But he didn't. The Horcrux hunt had already been postponed. Every available resource now served one purpose.

Kill Voldemort.

Or at least destroy the body carrying Lily's protection before Peter finished making a new one for Harry. It was the only reason he hadn't gone through with the same ritual of the graveyard himself. That and he didn't have a good candidate for an enemy to steal blood from.

There was also a bigger reason he rejected the idea.

"There are already too many children fighting this war," Harry said quietly. "No more."

He looked back towards Hermione.

"And Fleur tells me Madame Maxime has already rebuilt the Beauxbatons curriculum around military instruction. They're preparing for the long haul whether we ask them to or not. And I trust her to do so competently. They are, after all, French. They will never yield to a British dark lord."

His eyes drifted across the map.

"Japan. Brazil. Africa though..." he thought aloud before nodding. "I like the idea. But only a token investment."

Moody caught his meaning first.

"Infiltrators?"

"Yes."

Harry looked towards Albus.

"Living or dead. Send them as teachers, advisers students or refugees. Build resistance movements before they're needed or plant the ideological seeds."

He paused.

"And if we fail... They'll already be there to pick up the fight where we left off." he declared before turning to Albus. "Can you prepare a list? Living or dead. People suited to the different schools, their ministries and any local allies likely to listen."

Albus nodded, smiling sadly.

"Of course."

Harry turned back to Ron.

“What targets do you have in mind? How many, and who should lead them?”

“Two,” Ron answered. He moved closer to the map and pointed first towards the North Sea, then much farther east. “Azkaban and Durmstrang.”

Sirius and Regulus both perked up.

“Definitely!” Sirius said. “Azkaban would be mostly for the symbolism. The place is wrecked and empty, so Tom should have left only a token force behind. It really is a soft target because who on earth would expect us to go for it?”

“And once we take it, we can rebuild the wards and turn it into a fortress,” Regulus continued. “Something visible enough to draw his attention and irritating enough that he’ll feel compelled to retake it.”

“That was my thinking,” Ron confirmed. “Azkaban has almost no strategic value by itself but Voldemort will still hate seeing it in our hands, especially once we raise our colours over it and start broadcasting from there. He’ll throw people at the island purely because leaving it alone would make him look weak.”

Harry studied the small mark representing the ruined prison. The Dementors were gone, the walls had been torn apart during their earlier assault and much of the surviving structure had suffered months of exposure to the sea. Rebuilding it into anything useful would take time, but usefulness was beside the point. Azkaban was one of Voldemort’s symbols. Taking it again would tell the world that his hold over Britain remained vulnerable. And what did that tell people in other nations about his hold over them if he couldn't even manage his homeland?

“Who do you want for it?”

“Peter, Hermione and the dead,” Ron said. “Lucius, Regulus and Sirius, of course, along with the general shades and Inferi we can spare. There’s no reason to risk many living fighters on an island with so little resistance.”

Harry glanced towards the others and nodded slowly as he considered the composition. It was brilliant. Inferi were expendable in a way his living forces could never be. Any enemy or corpse possessed by the shades could be used until destroyed, then replaced with another body. Even losses among the reanimated dead meant little so long as Peter retained enough material and Hermione remained available to repair whatever magical damage prevented their reuse.

There was also the unexpected logistical advantage of the fact that the dead do not rewuire food, or even comfortable living quarters. That eliminates the danger of having to move supplies in and out and the time of setting up the defensive position.

“How many bodies can you have ready on short notice?” Harry asked.

Peter looked up from the folded metal lotus beneath him. His hand continued adjusting one of the brass instruments protruding from between its petals while he answered.

“Possessed? A few dozen, living and dead. I have enough stable vessels prepared for the shades, though some will function better than others. Fodder Inferi are easier. Almost a hundred immediately, perhaps more if you send people out to rob morgues across Europe.”

Ron grimaced at the thought, though Harry suspected the expression concerned logistics rather than desecration.

“That would tip our hand,” Ron said. “A dozen morgues losing bodies in the same week would attract attention, especially now that they’re looking for anything unusual."

Wormtail tsked, but nodded in agreement.

"It’s a shame you didn’t preserve the corpses from this recent round of attacks. That was rather the point of the operation, of course. Leave bodies and Dark Marks behind so Voldemort understands his people can be reached anywhere. But still, what a waste.”

Spoken like a true necromancer.

Harry’s attention shifted towards the large metal lotus beneath him. Its closed petals overlapped in thick layers, hiding the contents from sight while cables carried magic and electricity through the floor.

“Is the project nearing completion?”

“Not even close.”

Harry shrugged. It was probably for the best. He had always intended to save that surprise for Voldemort.

Ron tapped the eastern point on the map.

“Durmstrang?”

Harry hummed in consternation, and it came out as more of a growl.

“I’m uncomfortable with that target. Children are off limits.”

“Good news, then,” Ron said. “There are no children there.”

Harry's frown deepened, this time in confusion.

“Only workers and some of Voldemort’s personnel,” Ron continued. “The surviving students were relocated after Viktor’s escape. Nobody has returned because the school is still halfway destroyed.”

Harry looked towards Hermione.

“How badly did he damage the place on his way out?”

“Oh, he almost demolished it,” Hermione answered. “Several towers collapsed, the western wall opened into the sea and most of the upper classrooms burned. They’ve repaired enough of it to serve as a fortification and base, though calling it a school again would be generous.”

“Last time, Karkaroff and Viktor held Durmstrang against Tom’s sole attention for almost an entire year,” Albus said. “His forces will now be divided between several territories, garrisons and political responsibilities. With proper preparation, the fortress could last longer.”

Harry studied the location.

Durmstrang and Azkaban were nearly useless as conventional prizes. Neither gave them valuable territory, major population centres or resources they lacked elsewhere. Their value came from what Voldemort would waste trying to reclaim them. Each was defensible, isolated and important enough to offend him. If both fell at once, he would have to split his attention or decide which humiliation deserved correction first.

Lily had asked for soft targets. These were soft during the taking and hard during the defence. More importantly, the likelihood of suffering serious casualties during the assaults remained low. Their people would gain experience operating in larger formations, holding assigned sectors and moving supplies under battlefield conditions before they met a properly entrenched enemy.

Harry nodded.

“Greenlight both operations. I take it you plan for Viktor to command Durmstrang?”

“Yes,” Ron said. “But I want him to leave most of his original Durmstrang cohort behind.”

Harry looked at him.

“They already have the experience,” Ron explained. “The entire point is to blood the people we brought from Britain or elsewhere in larger engagements. Viktor can take a mixed force, with enough veterans to keep the formation stable and enough inexperienced fighters to learn something useful.”

“And that leaves us with the crews needed to defend our current bases,” James added. “The Durmstrang people already know the old facilities here and can keep them running while the British recruits go east. And defend them in the event Voldemort uncovers them and sends attackers.”

Harry considered the balance and found no fault in it.

“Send an Imperius victim along as well. I want Karkaroff brought back to command the Durmstrang fortress once we’ve taken it.”

Several faces turned towards him.

“That is an excellent idea,” Albus said. “He knew every passage, ward and defensive flaw in the school before his death. Bring him back now and I can explain the situation before Viktor departs.”

Harry raised the hand bearing the Resurrection Stone and prepared to turn the ring.

“Wait,” Grindelwald said.

Harry stopped and looked towards him.

The old Dark Lord had remained quiet through most of the discussion, watching the map with his hands clasped behind his back. His attention now rested on a region neither Ron nor the others had indicated.

“There is a third target,” he said. “One that would require only a skeleton crew to take and may prove more valuable than the other two combined.”

Harry lowered his hand.

“Go on.”

XXX

A week had passed since the war council.

He stood upon the platform outside the hidden station watching the latest deployment assemble.

This gathering represented his outer circle, who most believed to be his inner circle. Harry had encouraged the misconception. The fewer people who understood how much of his strategic thinking came from elsewhere, the better.

Viktor stood at the head of the formation with many of Harry's most trusted commanders gathered around him. Dudley and his gang occupied one flank while the four young women the movement had begun calling the Daughters of Hogwarts held the other. Daphne. Lavender. Susan. Padma. Between and behind them stood Fred, Seamus and dozens more. The ranks stretched far enough that Harry gradually stopped recognizing every face. The New Order(of the phoenix) had grown beyond a handful of friends into something that could survive individual losses, even his own.

Ollivander moved slowly down the line inspecting every wand one final time. Occasionally he frowned, swapped one wand for another or removed them from the mission before continuing without explanation. Aberforth followed several paces behind, performing the same inspection with armour instead. Most wore enchanted Kevlar beneath old helmets from Grindelwald's forgotten stockpiles, each piece strengthened by enchantments that had survived the better part of fifty years.

Eventually the two old men reached the end of the formation.

Ollivander gave Harry a nod. Aberforth followed a moment later.

Harry watched as the companies boarded the Hogwarts Express in practiced order. Conversation remained subdued. Nobody laughed and he didn't give a speech. He was bad at those, though some would disagree. They all understood their assignments and the risks accompanying them.

The final carriage door slid shut and the locomotive released a long whistle before slowly pulling away from the platform. The illusion spread backwards from the engine until every carriage vanished beneath the cloak, leaving only the sound of steel wheels upon the rails. That too gradually faded until the station returned to silence.

Harry remained watching the empty track for another few seconds before turning towards the handful who remained.

George, Neville, Cho, Ginny, Luna, Draco and Viktor's right hand, Poliakoff.

"You seven have a separate assignment." He told them. "Once the attack on Azkaban begins you are to infiltrate Saint Mungos and retrieve the people you can. Starting with your parents, Neville. It's a rescue mission, not an assault."

Harry couldn't place the mixture of emotions on Neville's face, but George's hand on his shoulder and Ginny's hug calmed them and they were replaced by the conviction Harry was used to seeing on his friend.

"Where will you be going?" Cho asked.

"On a much more dangerous mission than any of the other teams, with far less backup. If I do not return, the Pizza Boy is in charge." Harry said.

Before they could question the oddness of what he just said he withdrew another portkey from within his robes and activated it. The hidden station vanished and cold sea air replaced it.

Harry reappeared atop the weathered walls of an old coastal fortification overlooking the Normandy shoreline. Far below, waves crashed endlessly against black rock while a secluded harbour concealed a fleet of ships. Durmstrang's surviving watercraft, those intended for this mission that they had managed to secret to this place, rested quietly beneath enchantments laid by Grindelwald during the Second World War. The old concealment charms still functioned decades after their creator's defeat.

Peter and Hermione had already assembled the assault force within the ruined courtyard.

Inferi stood motionless in ordered ranks behind them while the possessed occupied the front. Harry could still distinguish the shades from the bodies they inhabited. Sirius stood within one corpse, Regulus another. Lucius, James, Lily, Moody and dozens more waited patiently inside vessels selected by Peter over months of preparation.

He descended the worn stone steps into the courtyard.

"The mission is a go," he announced. "Are the prisoners ready?"

Peter answered by dragging two blindfolded Aurors across the flagstones before dropping them unceremoniously at Harry's feet. Their mouths remained gagged and their hands secured behind their backs. He then produced two wands, presumably theirs, from within his robes and offered them hilt first.

"Two weak-willed Aurors," Peter reported. "As ordered."

Harry accepted the wands before looking down at the prisoners. Terror seeped through their hidden faces.

He pointed his own wand at the first auror.

"Imperio."

The curse took effect, bringing with it the telltale euphoria and feeling of control. Panic drained from the man's face, replaced by the familiar glassy calm Harry had come to recognize. The second Auror succumbed just as easily. Hence the need for weak-willed Aurors.

Harry cut away their bindings, removed their gags and their blindfolds. Neither moved nor attempted escape.

He put his wand away with the others and held out both hands.

"Take an arm. Both of you."

The two Aurors obeyed, each stepping forward to grasp one of Harry's arms. Harry activated another portkey and the world once again lurched around them. The salty air disappeared and thin mountain air rushed into its place.

They now stood atop a rocky overlook high within the Austrian Alps. Across a narrow valley another cliff rose sharply from the trees, and built directly into its face stood an ancient fortress of dark stone.

Nurmengard.

Towers overlooked the surrounding mountains while thick defensive walls merged seamlessly with the cliff itself. Grindelwald had built the fortress to imprison his enemies before eventually occupying one of its cells himself.

Harry released the Aurors and raised his left hand to his mouth. He turned the resurrection stone three times.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

One Auror shuddered violently before slowly straightening.

Harry repeated the process with a second name.

"Gellert Grindelwald."

The second Auror stiffened in much the same way before calmly turning towards Nurmengard. He studied the fortress in silence, his expression turning to a wicked grin.

Harry stepped forward and placed a wand into each waiting hand.

"Shall we, gentlemen?"