34 Well.. fuck
A/N: Pat-reon: HelloDarkness07
WARNING: This chapter is not something many people will like, keep hateful comments to the minimum.
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Darla White was an Auror in the British Ministry of Magic, and a Muggleborn to boot.
She had been through a lot of shite in her life, from childhood in fact. Confusion over why her parents wanted her to dress a certain way, and worries over why she didn't like it much. The oddities that kept happening around her, like exploding light bulbs, plates, and glasses just added on to it.
When she realised out she was a Witch, and made good friends at the Wizarding School, she thought her troubles were over. But then, she went through puberty, realised she liked girls, and she began going through even more shit. Having a wonderful woman named Ana as her girlfriend was worth all those troubles though, in her opinion.
Then she fought a literal Demon God, helped her best friend defeat said Demon God, and saw said friend almost die because of some sort of corruptive Magic the Demon God left behind. Thankfully, the Head Healer of St Mungo's, the idiotic friend's Master, managed to cleanse that magic, with the help of her Potioneer husband, but still, Darla was afraid.
Afraid that the next time something happens, she'll be once again just a helpless spectator. She didn't want to be a watcher, she wanted to be a doer. And so, she decided to become an Auror, and she got into the program, all on her own.
She then begged Mason to teach her Wizarding dueling, trained physical endurance with him, and even agreed, when he asked if she wanted to learn muggle fighting. All because she didn't want to be helpless to save her friends.
She even said she'll think about it, when Mason asked if she wanted to learn the Mystic Arts of Sorcery, even if she had no plans yet to learn said Arts. The fact that it will make her almost 5 times stronger, did tempt her, but she was not rushing into things.
Then, when Mason was called to the Muggle War, she had drinks with him, knowing with full confidence that he will come back, although not completely fine. She knew that he was stronger than most Aurors in the Ministry, and hence, she was not worried. She trusted him to return safely, alive.
And she kept on with her training, trying to get stronger and stronger, hoping that she doesn't become a helpless spectator in front of the next Demon God, or something, because there's no guarantee that nothing like that will ever happen again.
All of that, however, did not prepare her for the sudden appearance of Mason's Eagle Patronus, that spoke in his voice, "Go to my home in Islington. There's a Delivery for the Ministry."
And when she went there, after being let in by the sweet Elf (Not House Elf, Mason does not like that term) Blinky, she definitely did not expect to be shown a dead body, with its head turned completely around, and a hole through the shoulder.
She did not scream, already used to seeing such stuff, but she did groan, knowing that Mason gave her too much damn paperwork for no reason. Seeing the dead man's wand, still in his hand, and the easily recognisable locket, belonging to the cult of Grindelwald, hanging off his twisted neck, Darla groaned some more, and then tapped her Auror badge with her wand, and said, "Madam Crickerly, I want to report a dead body, Wizard, Grindelwald's man, from the looks of it. Location Malvern Terrace, Islington, House no 1, belonging to Mason Aves."
Seeing a letter addressed to her placed in the man's front pocket, she lifts it up, and reads it, waiting for her team to get here. He was okay, not harmed, but this was Grindelwald's soldier who had attacked him, and a pair of Muggles. Keeping the letter tucked inside her pocket, she returned to waiting.
Within 10 minutes, she found herself welcoming a group of Aurors, her team, and then, with her Team leader's approval, she finally began with an investigation.
15 minutes later, she had to force not to groan anymore, as she hands the letter attached to the body to Madam Persephone Crickerly. It was addressed to the Ministry, and right now, she was the highest authority figure here.
As Madam Crickerly reads the letter, Darla says, "The body belongs to a Wizard, Level 4. Death by broken neck, 47 minutes ago. Someone really strong grabbed his head with both hands, and turned it completely 180. No identification marks, other than the locket that carries the Mark of Grindelwald."
The Levels were something that the Aurors, Healers, and only Unspeakables used, but it is not a perfect scale. Any Wizard or Witch can come under 6 categories. Level 0, for anyone under 11, Level 1 for those who have yet to finish their school, Level 2 for the average Wizard or Witch, that don't focus much on combat, Level 3 for the Average Auror or Combat specialists, Level 4 for top Aurors and stronger Wizards and Witches, and Level 5 for those right at the top, like the Headmaster, or the Transfiguration Professor Dumbledore, or even Grindelwald. There was another Level, Level 6, but it was only reserved for truly God like Wizards, like Merlin.
Madam Crickerly hands the letter to her, and says, "No need. Your friend overseas encountered this man, a Viktor Wagner, and was forced to defend himself and two other muggles. He killed the man himself, and sent the Body here for processing." Turning to Jimmy Moon, she adds, "Take the Wand to Mr Ollivander, ask him if he can identify its maker."
Darla frowns, understanding the implications. She knew that Mason wanted her to call in her team for the investigation, thanks to his letter to her, but this just puts him under an investigation.
She asks, "Is Mason in trouble, ma'am?"
Madam Crickerly snorts, and says, "Mason Aves killed a Wizard during war, and that too in self defence. If it's proved that Mr Wagner here was actually a Dark Wizard working under Grindelwald, then Mason Aves has committed no crime. Besides, your friend already has a license to kill any Dark Wizards he comes across during the muggle war, Auror White. We just didn't tell him about it."
Darla breathes out, relieved that she did not just help Mason get himself into legal trouble, or arrested for murder. Thankfully, she did not share the fact that the killer was a muggle, or things would have gotten very awkward for the muggle. A muggle killing a Wizard is a crime punishable by Dementors Kiss, no matter the situation.
Ignoring the frankly disgusting laws in the Wizarding World, she prepares the body for transportation, the initial examination done, finally realising that Blinky the Elf had disappeared almost as soon as she had seen the body, and never returned.
As she prepares to leave, Madam Crickerly says, "Your friend said that he will send any Dark Wizards he finds, dead or alive, during the War to this house, and he might not always inform you of it." Darla did know that, having already informed of the same by Mason himself. "I would like to keep an Auror posted here at all times, Auror White, you're responsible for working out a schedule that won't harm the work of our team. Move out!"
And then, the Aurors leave the house, Darla staying behind to work on the schedule. She already knew the ins and outs of the House anyway, and had permission to stay here whenever she wants. She'll just have to inform Ana that she'll have to stay here a while, and that she can't join Darla here.
-
Flying on a plane has always been a dream of mine, as poor as that makes me seem. I never got the opportunity, since I didn't have enough money to even afford a domestic flight ticket, back in my old life.
And now, here I am, finally taking my first flight, and that too internationally!
But.. this isn't what I meant when I wanted to fly on a plane.
"DON'T WORRY! WE'LL PUSH YOU ON TIME! YOU JUST COUNT 30 SECONDS, AND THEN PULL THIS!" A Paratrooper yells over the sound of speeding air, as we hang at the open Cargo door of the cargo plane, hidden amongst the bomber planes of the Royal Air Force.
I was holding on to the man for dear life, my fear of heights resurfacing. The only thing stopping me from passing out, was the fact that I could fly on my own by now, even if it isn't as easy as I'd hoped. If the parachute fails, I could just fly down on my own.
Thankfully, I was going to land in the Mediterranean sea itself, which means the impact on land won't kill me, but the surface tension of the water might.
I yell back at him, "WHY THE FUCK CAN'T ONE OF YOU TWATS DO THIS MISSION?"
The paratrooper laughs loudly, and yells, "I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE MISSION IS, MATE! THAT'S THE BEAUTY OF IT! NOW, GOOD LUCK!"
And before I can even thank him for the well wishes, the man removes himself from my hold, and pushes me down, making me immediately scream out into the air, as I start falling down.
5 seconds in, I manage to bring my focus back into the mission, and I spread my arms and legs around me, as I was taught in the crash course I just got, on my way over.
All around me, different missiles, and high calibre bullets keep getting exchanged between the Luftwaffe and the RAF, while the ground forces try and take our planes out aith their anti-aircraft weapons. I feel some of the bullets come near me, but my telekinesis takes care of diverting them away from me, even without my prompting.
Meanwhile, I focus my magic through my arms, legs, and my torso, focusing on the intent of magically engraving Runes on my bones itself. When the Runes temporarily engraved by my Magic interconnect with each other, I feel myself slow down, right as the 30th second ends, and I pull on the string, activating the dark parachute, that hopefully stays hidden in the darkness of the night.
Unfortunately, my hopes crash immediately, when a few rounds of bullets tear through my parachute, with only my telekinesis saving me from the same fate. I immediately lose the Parachute bag, and start falling down. Thankfully, my Self Flight was active, and I slow myself down before falling completely underwater, enough that I don't harm myself at least.
This method of flight was crude, and definitely not the best method out there, but it is the one I have. I could control my magic completely, when it is inside my body, I had said that before a lot of times. Even when Wandless magic was a pipe dream for me, I could move and shape my magic around my body, around my blood. I had first thought, that this will make Flight easy peasy lemon squeezy for me.
It was only when I began actually researching self flight, that I learned, that no Wizard had managed the feat without depending on some other method. Some used enchanted clothes, some developed a harness or something, that enabled flight, and some even created a replica Mjolnir, to pull them into the air. Yeah, that last one didn't work out so well for their shoulders.
Some people even managed to sacrifice a Magical bird or something, to gain the gift of flight, and it worked.. somewhat. The speed, time, and the altitude of their flight depended on the Magical Value of the Bird.
So, yeah, it was not easy peasy lemon squeezy.
But, what I realised after a lot more research, is that Magical brooms fly by dispensing tiny amounts of magic into the air, continuously, and from every inch of it. The shape of the broom gives it maneuverability, and the bristles give it better aerodynamics. So, theoretically, if a Wizard can dispense magic from everywhere on his body, continuously, then he can fly.
Which is what I did. I use Runes to channel my magic everywhere at once, which I am unable to do as of this moment without their aid. This allows me to work as my own Flying broom, and it works completely by my own will, with my arms and legs providing the direction, the Runes giving me the maneuverability, and control over the speed.
The way this works, is my magic carve the Runes on my bones itself, completely painlessly, and temporarily, and then the Runes and my Magic work together to allow me to control every aspect of my flight. It was all according to my own will, and there's no chance of failure, as long as I have control on my own mind. But, I couldn't go faster than 30 kmph yet, and not for more than 20 minutes. Not yet at least.
I haven't worked on it for a long, long time, since I also had many other projects to work on, and I was called to war. Definitely at the top of my list when I get back, though.
As I splash into the water, with only minor damage to my self, I cast a bubblehead charm, and swim downwards, and to the east, deactivating my flight enchantment for now. Once suitably away from the base, I apprach the beach, using my Telepathy to ensure that no one sees me come out of water.
I stay silent, knowing that I can't purposefully bring attention to myself, and turn invisible as soon as I'm completely dry. Then, I transform my clothes into those of an Italian Private, and start my trek to the Troina Village.
2 days later, thanks to a healthy dose of my Telepathy, staying invisible, and taking the portal express back to Aves Manor to eat some actual food, and rest, I reach the village of Troina, and into an empty house.
Italy was currently divided, and so was Sicily. Some people wanted Mussolini to rule Italy, supporting his fascism completely, while some wanted him and his fascism gone, buried underground till Kingdom come.
Many such people, who had spoken out against Mussolini and Fascist Italy, had lost their lives, leaving their homes either empty, or occupied by the Italian armies. I had found one such empty house right in the centre of Troina, and claimed it for myself.
According to an encoded message sent to HQ by Captain Jean-Pierre Monet, he visits the local church every sunday, with an old Italian woman, who always wears a pink head scarf. Stupid, if I do say so myself, since someone could notice the pattern.
But, I don't need the clues anyway.
Sitting down in the empty appartment, I close my eyes, and breathe out, as I expand my mind. Slowly, my Telepathy goes from passive to active, and I begin travelling mind to mind, checking names, and moving forward.
Finally, 20 minutes later, I find Major Dubois, who was hiding in the attic of the Woman's house, and then, I find Captain Jean-Pierre Monet himself, along with the woman. My curiosity taking over, I enter each of their minds one by one, to see why the Allies want them extracted so urgently.
.
.
.
.
Well, I'll be damned. This Monet is a good soldier, that's for sure. He has access to some documents that describe the plans of Fascist Italy, and the troop placements too. And he wasn't even ordered to bring those documents! His only job was to rescue Dubois.
Speaking of, Dubois is useless, that much was certain. But I didn't think he'd sell us out like this. He had promised to sabotage the Allied Navy, from the inside, which would have helped the Fascists, and the Germans stay in Sicily. And he was actually planning on doing it, not that he'd succeed, but still.
The only reason Monet even managed to rescue Dubois was that the Germans let him. Well, fuck that. I won't let the Germans mess with our Navy like this, even if I do believe that there's no reason Dubois would have succeeded in sabotaging the Navy.
Getting their location, and knowing that Monet and the old lady were currently out of the house, to buy some groceries, I apparate inside, and wait for them to come.
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My senses return slowly, as if something is inhibiting them. My mind felt as if I had drunk a lot of alcohol again, as if I was back with James and Victor, losing a Drinking competition to the two. Thanks to this, my hold on my magic was.. slippery.
I could feel a hard cot underneath me, which wasn't unusual, since most of the days, we slept on the ground itself. But.. this wasn't ground, it was colder than that.. metallic. I look around, not recognising the room, and try and get up from the cot.
Unfortunately, my hands snap to a stop before it can move more than an inch, and drop down helplessly on the Metallic cot I was laying on top of.
I look at my hands, finding them to be bound to the cot by manacles, quite heavy ones in fact. Raising my head a bit, I look down, to find that even my legs were bound in a similar fashion, and there was a thick leather belt, metal claspings, around my thighs, my biceps, and my chest, which had me completely bound to the cot itself.
Dropping my head down, I focus on clearing my mind, trying to use my feeble hold on my magic to speed things up, hoping to remember my last memories. My Occlumency was intact, but I was just finding it hard to recall things, mostly my most recent memories. Finally, 10 or so minutes of meditation later, my mind clears enough for me to remember what happened. Alas, my magic still stays away from my control.
I was on a mission.. to rescue two French military men from the Troina base in Sicily. Captain Monet had already rescued Major Dubois from his prison, and they were hiding in the house of an old woman named Romola Biscardi, an Italian rebel.
I managed to bring the two Frenchmen easily enough, to a Luftwaffe plane I had stolen away for our escape, and waited until the raids began to start our escape to Africa. Monet was going to fly the plane, while the Allies rained cover fire on the Italians, giving us enough time to go home.
Unfortunately, the Germans had somehow foreseen our escape plan, which wasn't in anyway related to Dubois's treachery,, and we were attacked while Monet was getting the plane ready for flight. Dubois, the hopeful traitor, was shot dead by multiple bullets, and I got thrown into a boulder, head first, by a grenade blast before we could even start mounting a defence. Thankfully, before I lost consciousness, I saw Monet taking off, using the jet's weapons to attack the Germans back. Hopefully he successfully escaped, but I.. was captured it seems.
I once again look around, to at least get a clue of where I am, but nothing catches my eye. My connection to my personal dimension was intact, but my wand was missing, and so was my Mokeskin pouch. My clothes were still the same, but I could feel that all my weapons, knives, ammo were all taken away from me.
I was completely helpless, with the drugs in my blood messing with both my magic, and my Telepathy. I could barely keep a hold on my own mind, fuck trying to do that on other minds. I should have foreseen something like this happening, and prepared something for cleansing my blood. I know a few methods to do it with Runes, but I didn't have a food enough control to do that yet.
I try a few more times, to get the manacles off by force, and even try the Alohomora spell, but that just causes them to make a lot of sound.
I was not afraid, not that much anyway. If my jailors wanted me dead, I would be dead. They're probably Italians, who want me to give up my Italian contacts for this mission, or Germans, who want me to give some secrets for them. Whoever it is, I am pretty sure I can escape after I get my Mind and Magic back.
"Sargent Mason Lucas Aves." I hear in a German accent from somewhere over my head, which I can't see, from someone probably reading my file or something, since I don't carry any identification on me. I'll worry about how they got the file later, but at least now I know that I'm in the hands of the Germans. "6 confirmed missions with Special Ops Squad 7, over 500 confirmed kills, a Combat Medic with a kill streak is very hard to find, Sargent Aves. And oh? What is this? You're a Wizard? Marvelous!"
Fuck. It did not sound like it surprised the man.
I wait for the man to come forward, waiting patiently as he took one step at a time. He keeps the file on a stool beside my head, and I see the stamp of the MI6 on it, which means the Germans have spies there. This.. is bad.
And finally, the man himself comes in my sight, and I try to attack him on instinct, before the chains around my hands stop my hands a single foot above the bed.
The man chuckles, and says, "That won't work, Sgt Aves, the chain can stop even those Canadian freaks that you call friends from escaping. Please, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Johann Herman Schmidt, leader of Hydra, the Weapons and Deep Science division under the Schutzstaffel. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
Fuck! Hydra?! HYDRA!? I'm fucking captured by fucking Hydra?!
This is bad, this is bad, this is bad!
I need to get out of here as soon as possible! Schmidt knows I'm a Wizard, I cannot be sure what else he knows.
"You're a Nazi." I snarl at him, not hiding my anger at being captured by Hydra, the reason of which he might misinterpret.
Johann Schmidt chuckles, seeing me helplessly try and hit him, and says, "Please. I am much more than that, Sgt Aves. Much, much more. You might be wondering how I know you're a wizard? Hm?"
I lay back down, realising that I can't do anything yet. Even if I get out of the manacles, which is currently not that easy thanks to the drugs in my body, I'll have to defeat Red fucking Skull, which will be almost impossible for now. He's too strong, and too fast.
Glaring at him, I hiss out, "I don't need to wonder! You have spies in MI6!"
Schmidt claps a few times, the rubber gloves of his hitting together, and he says, "Bravo! You're correct, of course. But that's not all. Let me tell you a tale, Sargent Aves. A wonderful tale of enlightenment, and of Ascension.
"I was approached by a man, 4 years ago, claiming to be a Wizard who had similar aims to the Führer, and to me. Global domination! The Wizard, Gellert Grindelwald, gave me a lot of information about the Occult, about the Gods of old. In return, he asked me to kill a few people, to get him a few things, or for some meaningless information."
This sounds very unlike Grindelwald. He will die before allying himself with a muggle, even someone like Johann Schmidt. I stay silent, knowing that I don't want to give anything away even by hint.
Schmidt goes towards the back, where he had a few flasks and bottles kept in a shelf, and fiddling with one, he says, "That was how our partnership has been, for 4 years. He asks me to do some stuff, gives me information about the occult in return, leading up to his last tip 4 months ago, thanks to which I came across something that has proven to be most.. effective. But no matter what I offered to give him, Gellert refused to give me one thing that I sorely needed. The blood of a Wizard."
He then turns towards me, and I see an empty syringe in his hand. It is then that I notice that my arm already has a lot of black spots, from previous injections. They were stealing my blood.
They.
Were.
Stealing.
My.
Blood.
I freeze, my rage clouding my mind even more than before. So much so, that I don't even react, when Schmidt pierces the needle and takes a full syringe of blood from me.
They took my blood. My blood. MY BLOOD?! Oh I don't give a fuck about the timeline, I'm going to make sure that he dies as soon as I'm free from this drug induced high.
As Schmidt keeps the syringe away, and prepares another one for blood extraction, he says, "Until.. you. You just landed in our hands, thanks to Grindelwald's own tip about your mission. We just refused when he asked for you to be turned over to him. 'Wizard Prisoners should stay in Wizard hands', he said, but well, I had something that I had wanted for a long, long time. And I wasn't going to let it go."
"My doctors worked on healing your body, taking a half a dozen vials of blood every day, giving us a prime experiment material. All for more than a month, that you've been unconscious for. We did not do anything to you, however, so.. you're welcome." Schmidt says, as he extracts the third vial of my blood from me.
As he puts a piece of cotton over the hole in my hand, I glare at him, and calmly ask, "Why are you doing this? Why are you taking my blood? What do you hope to achieve?"
Schmidt chuckles, and says, "A revolution, Sargent Aves. The Magic in your blood, just like the Magic in the Gods of old, has power in it. And I am going to tap into that power, turning myself into the most powerful being on the planet!"
I snort, disdainful, and say, "You'll fail. Magic doesn't work like that. You won't just become a Wizard because you put gallons of my blood in your body."
Schmidt says, "Au contraire, Sargent Aves, I'm not even aiming for that." He then presses a button, that makes the metal cot I'm laying on to rise up, until I'm almost vertical. A press of another button moves the cot towards a glass window in front of me, and he joins me in looking through it, into a small room, or lab.
I see a scientist, Dr Arnim Zola in fact, working on a chemical formula written on the blackboard, while some sort of chemical was heating up in a beaker. I have some basic understanding of Chemistry, but even my currently shoddy perfect recall does not allow me to understand any of the writings on the board, other than the Chemical notations for most of the elements.
"That is Dr Zola, my second in command. He is working on recreating a serum, that will make each of my soldiers worth 20 of the normal soldiers. Your blood is one of the ingredients in his experiments, that he hopes will cause it to succeed. Dr Zola thinks, that Wizarding blood might have the necessary Power to forcefully bond the Serum to a subject.. without any side effects whatsoever. Alas, we're still in the theoretical stage, so that's too far away. But this.."
He then presses another button, that moves my cot towards the left, near another giant glass window. This time, I look over a hall, easily as big as the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Written on a big green board, was a Runic array, that I could tell at just a glance, was meant to summon someone.. or something.
Near the wall, on a shelf, were a few containers full of ink, kept under a guard of 6 people. But the floor of the Hall is what immediately grabs my attention next. There were a dozen soldiers, carefully working on writing on the floor with a thick brush, and a small bucket quarter full of ink in each person's hands. They were copying the Runic Array down on the ground, scaled as per measurements already written on the board.
"Those buckets aren't filled with normal ink, as I assume you've deduced. Most of the blood we took from you was mixed in the Ink. I will be sure to note down your contribution to this cause, once we succeed." Schmidt says, confirming my suspicions, as my stomach sinks.
Grindelwald.. how low have you fallen. You taught muggles the value of Wizarding blood?
Why though?
It does not, literally does not, make sense. No matter what angle I look through.
Why would Grindelwald, a man who hopes that Wizards Rule over the muggles, teach the muggles the power behind Wizarding blood? Why would he teach them something so dangerous?
Unless.. he plans to use this to his advantage somehow.
.
.
.
.
Fuck!
He's planning on using this to incite chaos, and war, isn't he? 'Muggles killed a Wizard in a Dark Ritual to summon a Demonic entity! Grindelwald saves the day!' this is sure to gain him millions more followers.
Suddenly, one of the soldiers writing on the ground spills some of the ink on the floor, probably ruining everything. Immediately, a soldier shoots him in the head with a blue energy bullet, which completely disintegrates his body, and people walk inside, to clean the entire hall with some heavy duty bleach. And then, they empty the room. As if it was a daily routine for them.
Sighing, Schmidt says, "As you can see, it is going slow. Competent soldiers are sometimes very hard to find, you know. A single mistake means I have to start all over again." Probably a day or two later, knowing the stench of Bleach.
He then turns me around to face him, and as I furiously stare at him, he says, "Any more questions, Sargent Aves?"
I chuckle, all my mirth thrown out the window as soon as he told me about my blood, and say, "You're making a huge mistake, Johann Schmidt. Nothing good ever comes to those who play with things they don't understand. You think you know Magic? You don't, I do. All Magic has a price. And when I get out of here, and I will, I will make you pay that price. That's a promise."
Schmidt smiles, and it is only now that I notice his face mask slip a little. He says, "When will you come after me, Sgt Aves? When you are unconscious? Or after you die? Make no mistake, Sargent, the only reason I am telling all this to you, is that your death is guaranteed. If not now, then whenever the Runes are successfully written. I have waited a long time for this. And I will die, before I fail." He then gets close to my face, and whispers, "Hail Hydra!"
And then, he once again injects me with another needle, this time, a sedative.
---
A/N: Whoa this chapter felt sooo good to write. I haven't seen something like this in any fics, but if I did somehow coincidentally copy some other fic, I'd like to apologise and just say that I came up with this all on my own.
An explanation, Mason was in a coma for more than a month, I wrote it, but just in case it's not clear.
Hydra did not experiment on him, like they did to Bucky, but they took a lot of his blood. You saw what for.
I'd just like to say that I can't write.. dark moments very well. It makes me sick, depressed, and I stop writing. I know, I've tried. So, I might not portray the events as depressingly as they actually are.
Thank you for your support! Tata!
