If you want to help me financially, you can do it on https://www.patreon.com/NeverluckySMILE
Lucius Malfoy didn't believe in karma. But if he did, he'd claim that karmic jokes came in trios.
The spectral army, arising out of the dead and gone, raised by an unknown necromancer, had slaughtered his people.
Those that survived the spectral apocalypse were finding themselves facing the wands of the remnants of the crippled DMLE.
And Potter's bestial form had utterly destroyed his personal army that was supposed to kill Sebastian Delacour and his half-breed daughter.
There was a fourth thing though, and that was him having to fight for his life against the surprisingly hard to kill Harry Potter, coupled with that feisty half-breed veela daughter of Sebastian Delacour, with the man himself throwing a curse or shield whenever the dark curse on his arm was letting him the opportunity.
However, four wasn't a significant number in Arithmancy. It was probably why life had thrown him a wildcard as a sudden ally that couldn't possibly be the most-certainly dead Barty Crouch Junior, bringing the total number of negatives down to three.
That knowledge did little to lessen his frustration at being forced to defend against the wrath of a schoolboy and a half-breed a third his age.
He gnashed his teeth as blood trickled down his nose, the effects of a sonic spell Potter had just cast in their general direction, followed by transfiguring a fallen tree trunk into a magnificent boa python. A quick duplication spell later, there were four twenty-foot boa pythons slithering at both of them from all four sides.
What amazed him more was that the boy didn't even show the slightest shred of apprehension at facing two adult Death Eaters. If anything, he was exuding a fierce joy at having to face a perilous foe.
Inorganic to organic transformation followed by elevated transfiguration, he identified the phenomenon as Potter hissed something that made the snakes attack him with greater aggression than before. Not to mention the Dark Lord's ability with Parseltongue. Is this why the Dark Lord is so wary of him? Could he really be —
He shook his head, throwing that ridiculous notion aside. Lucius himself was a Charms Master and a prodigy at Earth Magic and the Dark Arts, and had access to an infinitely more esoteric arsenal for them to match him.
"I know what your problem is," said Potter casually, as if reading his mind. "You're the great Lucius Malfoy. Left Hand of the Dark Lord, accomplished Charms-Master and all-around megalomaniac. Why is some boy from yesteryear giving you and this madman such a hard time? Right?" He casually deflected the two blasting curses that Barty shot his way, and said. "Well, the truth is that I got lucky you made two mistakes."
Lucius opened his mouth to reply, but right then the veela thrust her wand and yelled —
"MALLEUS IGNIS!"
Lucius hastily raised shield spiked an alarming shade of red as a torrent of flames smashed against it like a warmaul. The protego held against it, but did nothing against the searing heat, blistering his right hand.
"The first mistake you made," said Potter, his tone conversational as if discussing the weather, "was assuming that this battle was one against one. Sadly, it's two on my side."
"Your side?" hissed the veela.
"Apologies," said Potter, twisting his wand and transfiguring Barty's clothes into binding him before transfiguring them into steel chains. "I meant, her side."
And with that, Potter hissed something out loud, and gooseflesh erupted all over Lucius's body all at once, and a tidal wave of disorientation flickered through his brain, utterly dislodging every rational thought from his head.
"Good ole' Parseltongue," said Potter chattily. "No wonder Voldemort preferred it for his intimidation tactics."
He barely had the time to register his silvery shield glow an alarming shade of red, as it shattered, smashing the flames into him, hurling him back with bone-crushing force. He hastily raised several slabs of rock in front of him, preventing any further flaming buckshots from hitting him. His mind was red with pain and fury, the burns all over his body stinging far less than his wounded pride.
Snarling, Lucius hissed something, and slashed his wand like a blade, and a wave of black energy roared out of it. It hit against an incoming fireball, neutering it midway. The sudden motion sent a flare of agony through his back, likely because of a broken bone, but Lucius was no stranger to pain and he needed to concentrate.
"INCINÉRER!" screeched the girl from above. She had erupted wings from her back and soared into the heavens. Thrusting both hands down, she rained flame, a storm of red and gold, tearing deep into the earth, which Lucius returned with a powerful freezing spell straight out of Scandinavian Ice Lore. The collision threw the entire area into a dense mist, granting him enough time to disillusion himself and —
YANK!
—was bodily pulled into the air by unseen hands and swung like a toy at the end of a ribbon, crashing and dragging him against the ground, bruising him all over. Between the shock and pain, his focus flickered and the disillusionment charm faded.
"Ah-ah-ah," said Harry Potter, wagging his finger. "Naughty naughty! Running away like a coward from a fight, Lucius? Your Dark Lord will hear about this."
Lucius answered that provocation with the killing curse.
Potter casually lifted a branch off the floor to intercept it. Infuriated, Lucius threw every single dark spell in his arsenal at the boy that just refused to die. It wasn't a bombing of aggressive spellfire so much as rain, each bolt of twisted curse streaking through the air at the brat. Even to Lucius's eyes, there was no visible means of escape.
So it was somewhat shocking, when Potter escaped.
If Lucius was a storm, then Potter was like a single mote of dust in the wind, tiny in comparison to the raging light, but fluid and untouchable. He dove between spaces that looked like it wouldn't fit a fly, weaving sinuously through the explosions and bombardment. It wasn't the direct, piercing speed of Bellatrix Lestrange, nor the systematic, precise hits of Amelia Bones, or the hurricane of the Dark Lord's charge. Potter's movements were fast as any of them, faster even.
The entire place lay soaked in curses and explosions, and yet Potter stood in it, untouched by the destruction around him.
Lucius gazed at him in open shock. Potter flicked his wand, and transfigured a fallen branch into a floating javelin. Another quick movement, and there were six of them, floating in mid-air. Eyes widening, Lucius raised a quick shield, as all six javelins smashed against his silvery barrier. The barrier held, but Potter seemed intent on attempting to push through it.
"Your second mistake," said Potter, slowly striding in his direction, "was assuming that this was a fight between a Death Eater and school children. You were so confident in your superiority that you made a very big mistake, one that your master is quite familiar with."
His green eyes glinted with malevolence.
"You failed to take me seriously right from the very start."
He flicked his wand and —
BOOOM!
The javelins exploded, generating intense amounts of heat with it in one magnificent detonation. Lucius, his left hand all but burnt, as bodily hurled away by several feet.
"Thermite powder," said Potter, his shark-like smile in sharp contrast to Lucius's panicked scowl. "Just one tiny transformation on the outside and it becomes a bomb. Wonderful thing, muggle chemistry, is it not?"
Lucius grit his teeth. This… this was impossible. How was he losing to Potter of all people? Potter was a third-year pass out and he was —
"You think you can defeat me with those tricks, Potter?" He snarled, thrusting his wand on the ground, casting powerful Earth Magic. "Let me correct your ignorance."
A gravity spell took effect, intensifying the earth's downward pull by at least a magnitude, dropping every single one to their knees, including Potter himself. The veela flapped her wings hastily, doing her best to remain airborne.
"Taking the fight to the air," Lucius announced, "was a mistake, girl. AVADA KEDAVRA!"
I'll give you this. Fleur Delacour is good. As in, far more than anything, JKR portrayed her in the books. Whether it be in her ability with her wand, her incredible affinity to pyrotechnics, or her skill at fighting battles while remaining airborne. Instead of this weird mix of woman and bird throwing fireballs from above, she looked more like a warrior angel descended to punish the profane.
More interestingly, the energy behind her spells, it was easily twice, no, thrice more than the firestorm spell. I was no stranger to the idea of emotions reacting aggressively to produce spectacular effects of magic during dire circumstances. But even so, there were limits. A man could lift several times his own weight under emotional turmoil, but try as he may, he wouldn't make a goods train move backwards.
So what was this? Were veela just that blessed at pyrotechnics, or was this girl just extraordinarily powerful and skilled? Or was something else at work? I didn't know, but it only made me want to get her under me even more.
Writhing, twisting, screaming my name as I fucked her goddamn brains out.
But for that to happen, she needed to stay alive first. Necromancer I might be, but sex with corpses isn't exactly high on my to-do list.
So when Lucius took me by surprise and hurled a killing curse at the airborne veela, I knew I had to act.
My first choice was a stunner. No, I certainly did not believe that the stunning spell, the crowd-favourite of the Order of the Phoenix, was able to match the killing curse power for power and win. In fact, the killing curse was so magically 'heavy', that hitting it with a stunner had less chances of success than, say, trying to stop a truck by swinging a cricket bat in the face.
But. what the stunner could do was travel faster than the killing curse. In fact, the stunning spell was one of the fastest combat-spells out there, which was why having a non-verbal grasp on the stunner was an absolute requirement if you wanted an Outstanding in your DADA NEWTs. Another one, of course, was the ability to cast a Patronus, though it increased your chances for getting recruited in the Hit-wizard army than the Auror squad. Or, if you were seriously unlucky, you could even get posted in Azkaban of all places as part of the anti-dementor squad.
The stunner raced ahead of the killing curse and struck Fleur midair, instantly paralysing her. Even from this distance, my sharp eyes noted the apprehension, fear and outright shock as my stunner snapped her consciousness away, dropping her like a stone, missing the killing curse by a few inches.
Another anti-velocity spell later, she was resting on the floor, next to her father who had already succumbed to unconsciousness from the curse from earlier. I quickly cast a shield around them, followed by a privacy ward, hiding them from the senses.
"When facing a hostage situation, always shoot the hostage. That's basic conflict resolution."
Lucius grit his teeth, standing up. "Wordless elevated transfiguration and NEWT-level charms work. Some would say you were hiding your talents all this while, Potter."
"Those people would be correct," I told him, and smiled to see his eyes widening, the whites clearly visible from a distance.
"That may be, but now you are down to one, Potter. While I," Lucius glanced at Barty who had gotten free from his restraint, "have two on my side. Who's smiling now, you little bastard?"
From the way he was constantly shaking his head, Barty was still suffering from the aftereffects of my confounding spell, but Lucius didn't need to know that.
A dark smile formed on my face. "I am. Come, Lucius Malfoy. Let's find out who's the better killer."
Lucius charged first this time, throwing a banisher which I dodged and cast Levicorpus, yanking him up by an ankle. For a man that seemingly did politicking for a living, Lucius was one quick bastard. Even with all the bruising and burns from earlier, the man had insane reflexes. And just as talented. Lucius cast a quick ascending charm and lifted himself further up to undo the effects of my hex, but a quick gravity spell dropped him to the ground. He halted his fall just inches before he hit the ground, but it was slow enough for me to hit his shirt with a transfiguration, turning them into aggressive ants.
Lucius's screams echoed as he experienced bites in his really sensitive places all at once. He unleashed a wave of power, freeing himself, but also stumbling directly into the trajectory of my cutting curse that severed a portion of his left thigh.
I had to applaud the man. Even in such a state, he spun around and cauterised his wound, uncaring of his half-nakedness.
"I'm Lucius Malfoy!" he said out loud, glaring daggers at me. "Do you think this would hold me back?"
I shrugged and said, "Yes, yes, learn to fight naked, and you'll never be disarmed. I mean, I mostly agree with that sentiment, so long as there aren't mosquitoes around. Or wasps for that matter."
I flicked my wand.
"Vespidae Oppugno!"
And countless motes of dust all around him instantly transfigured into tiny wasps and attacked him viciously.
And then I heard it.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" yelled Barty.
"Seriously? It's like you choose the worst time for everything!" I snapped. I didn't attempt to conjure something this time. Instead I just levelled my wand at Lucius.
Weave your intent into your magic. Walburga had taught me. Give your desire a form.
I gave it one.
"Expecto Patronum."
One moment the malevolent streak of green was shooting at me. The next, an orb of light popped in at my wand tip. It expanded in every direction, forming large wings on either side, with hooves and a tail extending downwards, while a proud head raised itself, staring at the incoming curse in defiance. My patronus, the mighty hippogriff, took the killing curse head on, magic colliding with magic, the power of sundering matching the power of protection, the desire to kill facing off the desire to save. If what I had learnt about the rules that governed magic, intent was everything.
If my intent to survive, to protect myself or someone else was greater than another's intent to kill them, then my spell could counter theirs.
Think I'm being foolish? Think again.
The killing curse crashed against my patronus, and Barty found himself forced to pour in more energy into his curse to counter the layer of pure magical protection, one that had its roots in just as deep esoterism as the killing curse.
Unfortunately for him, I had no such limitations.
"Confundo Reverso!" I hissed.
I only had a moment to see the effects of my spell settling in, disabling the tiny disorientation that made him temporarily forget his objective that Hestia had commanded him to perform through the Imperius curse. I leaped to my right, dodging Lucius's entrails-expelling curse, and smashed Lucius with a blasting curse, one enough to raise a gale around him from the shock. The man grit his teeth, digging his feet in, and releasing a reflection barrier to hold back my charge. Finally with a last burst of strength, he swatted the blow aside, but that made him off-balance…
…and fell directly into the ground that had been transfigured into quicksand. He raised his wand and —
"CONFRINGO HORRIBILIS!" said Barty, and Lucius's right hand exploded into gore. His wand too suffered the same fate. Despite the agony, the man whirled at Barty in growing apprehension and horror before he turned to me, and I saw the emotion turn to dread.
I answered his growing confusion with a dry, empty laugh. "I'm afraid I told you a small lie, Lucius. You see, Barty won't attack me right now, because he has something far higher on his to-do list at the moment. You see," I smirked. "You made a third mistake, and that was in trusting my words. This battle was three against one from the very start."
"Kill. Lucius. Malfoy," said Barty, every single word escaping his throat like dragging a rusted metal pipe over concrete. He raised his wand and levelled it at Lucius's face.
"AVADA —"
"Stupefy."
Before the green light could leave Barty's wand, my stunner raced through the distance between us and hit him in the face, dropping him unconscious. Lucius went from gaping at me to gaping at Barty. Seeing his face go white at the sight of my wand now aimed at him was a treat to watch.
"Why?" He asked, his voice filled with a surprising resignation. "Why are you doing this?"
I smiled. "You don't need to know my reasons. Now, Stupefy!"
When I woke Fleur up, the first thing she did after taking control of her senses was try to kick me in the balls. It helped that I was faster than her, or else it would be a very bad end to an otherwise awesome fight. Then I pulled out my wand and —
—found her wand levelled between my eyes. Her expression was stony, daring me to do anything.
"I understand you're antsy about whatever happened, and you can grill me all about it later, but first, I need to heal him."
Preferably before he dies or the Black Family Magic begins its assault on me, I left unsaid. Narcissa had said that I had roughly an hour before the ritual would begin showing its effects. I didn't know what it would be like, but I certainly didn't want a half-naked angry veela and her politician and diplomat of a father to be present when it happened.
"How?"
"By diagnosing him further? And casting healing magic?"
"You are a third year passout."
"Tell that to them," I gestured at the littered parts of dead bodies on the floor around us. Then I realised how at home I was with the entire thing.
The wand did not waver.
"Unless," I added, "you have a better idea?"
Fleur put her wand away and I began my work. If Fleur noted that my charms were on the level of professional medi wizards, she chose not to comment. Confirmed with my analysis, I pulled out several vials from my pouch and placed them next to us.
"Blood-replenishing potions and restorative draughts," I said, handing her a pair of each.
"And the other one?" She indicated a red and gold potion.
"Ah that one, it's a special brew."
Without further dialogue, I made a slight incision on his left wrist, before proceeding to do the same at five other parts of the body. Within seconds, the poisoned blood began to flow out of his skin, trickling through the air as it was magically guided into a flask.
"Anything I can do?" Fleur asked.
"Just stay there and look pretty for a change," I said, though the scowl on her face said that she didn't find my words humorous. Tough luck. "When I drain his blood, he might go into spasms from the sudden blood and magic loss. You have to make sure his nervous system does not stop working."
"And how do I do zat?"
"Hit him with lightning," I quipped. At her shocked face, I laughed. "Use your allure on him. It has a similar effect as a pepper-up potion. Don't worry about me. I'm immune to it, but you already knew that."
Fleur scowled again, but followed my advice. The next moment, her prettiness became a tangible thing, and an overwhelming magical pressure saturated all around us. If not for Harry's indomitable will and my own powers as an Incubus Lord, I would have probably attempted to force myself upon her.
Instead I calmly cast a cutting hex, forming incisions on several key points on the body, and drained his poisoned blood out, magically collecting it into a conjured flask. Fleur attempted to push the blood replenishing potion into her father's mouth, but I stopped her.
"What?" she demanded. "It's a blood replenishing potion. 'E has lost a lot of blood."
"And this," I said with a resigned sigh. "Is why the theory behind potion making is also important. Tell me, Miss NEWT student. Just what does that potion do?"
"It replenishes blood to the body."
"By conjuring it?"
This time, she had no answer, and I knew the reason why. Conjurations were impermanent, unless you were breaching past the lines of true Transmutation that Alchemists worked on. Otherwise, even the most potent piece of transfiguration was a temporary alteration of something into something else at the expense of the fuel called Magic.
"We need the body to start producing blood by itself, and that means making sure the biological processes that create blood do so at a much higher rate than usual. And right now, his body has already lost a great deal of magic in trying to fight the curse, and even more, through this blood loss. You pushing a blood-replenishing potion would literally choke the organs and cause multiple organ failure. Might as well just choke him to death right away."
That shut her up.
I pulled up the third vial, and handed it to her.
"Potent Exstimulo potion," I clarified. "Boosts the magical reserves within a person. Normally it's used to empower a spell beyond your level. But in this case…."
I held his mouth open, and Fleur, after a moment of hesitation, poured it down his lips. The diagnostic charm that was still at work showed signs of magical stimulation within a few seconds as the potion took effect.
"Now what?"
"Now," I said with another sigh. "We wait until his body begins to counter the blood loss by enhancing the blood replishment. We magicals are special that way. So long as the head, the heart and the soul is intact, our magic will make our bodies do everything it can to make sure we stay alive."
"How do you know all that?"
I gave her a wry grin. "Just some light reading during school breaks."
I didn't need to be a Legilimencer to know that she didn't believe me.
That was fine. She didn't need to trust me to work with me. And certainly not in this particular case.
When her father started showing signs of self-healing, I made him drink another vial of the same potion and pointed my wand at his frail form, and hissed out in Parseltongue.
"Vulnera Sanentur! Vulnera Sanentur! Vulnera Sanentur!"
Sebastian Delacour's entire body spasmed, but Fleur held him in a strong grip, amplifying her allure, and the spasming lowered down to acceptable levels, until all that remained was an occasional twitch. Vulnera Sanentur was perhaps one of the most complex and powerful healing charms, capable of healing even the most dangerous dark-spell induced injuries. But that came at an equally grave cost. Unlike other healing spells that were empowered by the caster, Vulnera Sanentur took its toll upon the patient's own reserves. And if the victim was already magically exhausted… Well, casting Vulnera Sanentur on someone like that directly would be like cutting off an arm and eating it to add the body tissue to replace a cut-off leg.
It didn't do the intended quite right, and was a nightmare and a half to reverse. Doubly so, without the patient perishing in the process.
How did I know this stuff? What did you think I was learning from Walburga apart from cutting myself up and literally hanging out to dry? Blood magic was an extremely potent part of the Black witchcraft, and dabbing with that particular art needed a working knowledge in the healing arts as a mandatory prerequisite.
And you learnt to pay attention to healing lessons when it was your body and your life on the line. Trust me.
As soon as the spasming stopped completely, I poured in two vials of blood-replenishing potion followed by a single vial of restorative draught into his lips. The unconscious man drank them all, and the colour was slowly returning to his face and body. It was easy to see that he was going to be fine soon.
"Well now, it's a waiting game. I imagine you'll have to sit here for another twenty or so minutes. After that, you can either levitate him and walk until you are out of the no-portkey zone, or unless some Auror finds you out."
"And what about you?" Fleur asked.
"Gotta go home," I said with a sigh, putting my pouch back where it was. I didn't need to tell Fleur that I was carrying two Death Eaters inside that pouch, pumped with Draught of Living Death until their innate magic was so low that it was impossible to classify them as 'alive'.
Somehow, the mokeskin pouch simply refused to accept a human body otherwise. Go figure.
"And Malfoi? What happened to 'im? And ze ozzer?"
"Ran away, I suppose," I lied. "I think I got hit by something and lost consciousness before that happened."
"Liar. Zey would 'ave killed you if zat had happened."
I held her gaze. "Then what do you think I did, Miss Delacour?"
"You killed zem. You killed zem both."
"Me? Kill? I'm just a third-year passout," I said with a sardonic laugh.
Fleur was not amused.