Chapter 133: Blood Feud

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I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions of them so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.

I would like to thank my beta, Akisu, for his help in this chapter.

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17 June 1993, Azkaban

Gawain Robards hated the Azkaban shifts. People really undersold how horrible this place was, and the fancy Auror that came to Hogwarts in his NEWT year to sell the prospect of being one definitely didn't mention that it would be on the table.

Now, he understood that it was a small propaganda machine to get as many agents hired in what happened to be the most underfunded department in the Ministry for Magic. Seriously, Fudge cut the budget to the throat, and it was a miracle how Madam Bones could manage to keep things together enough to have a coherent form of law enforcement.

It was one of the main selling points of Fudge during his campaign for minister, removing the funds that were used for war to diversify the economy and prosper the citizens of Magical Britain. Barty Crouch had gone insane in the Blood War. He authorized the use of unforgivables, for Merlin's sake. He ignored rights and arrested people just because they had friends or family who were suspects. He froze assets like it was no tomorrow. They were at the cusp of a Goblin Rebellion since most of the funds belonging to old families were frozen.

So, when the war was over and Crouch's son was revealed to be a Death Eater that perished in the fires of Godric Hollow, the public clamoured for the opposite of the man's reign of terror and they got one in Cornelius Fudge.

He wasn't that bad at first. The portion of the budget reserved for the DMLE took a hit, but it was expected since the war was over. But what was infuriating was the fact that the hits just kept going. It was Lucius Malfoy's doing, since he was obviously heavily invested in the emerging Black Market that dealt with illegal artefacts, and weakening the DMLE was an easy way for him not to be investigated.

Well, the man was dead now, thanks to their new headache, that smiling killer. Magical Britain hadn't seen a magical serial killer ever since Jack the Ripper's rampage almost a century back. There were enough wars and death. The disturbed ones probably just stuck with Muggles since they were defenceless, and the chances of the murders being investigated by the DMLE were slim. Mass murder was hard to hide in Magical World, yet that smiling killer seemed to be able to do it without any issues.

And Fudge was freaking out about the possibility of a serial killer. He tried to hide it, pretend that it wasn't there, and now, he made the entire Auror force work overtime, tracking illusions and shadows, to find him. They got nothing, of course. The man was like an invisible ghost.

The murders were bad, of course, but what everyone wanted was the way this killer so easily broke the wards of his victims. There were no signs of damage or manipulation, nothing. And that was terrifying, enough that the entire underworld wanted a piece of it.

They needed to find this killer before some kind of group did, or else they would have a large security threat that could threaten the entire nation and even spread to the rest of Europe.

And if that wasn't enough, he also stuck with the Azkaban shift and with only Proudfoot and Dawlish for backup. Proudfoot was Dumbledore's man, through and through, and Dawlish was the minister's pet. Well, that Umbridge bitch's pet. He was head of the anti-werewolf task force that the woman managed to pass through. It essentially meant that werewolves had to register themselves in the ministry, get tested at the hospital, and then buy Wolfsbane potion from the ministry, which happened to be very heavily taxed, that's without the expensive ingredients. Even then, they had to announce their condition to any employer before working there, so that they could have 'days off' during the days before and after their transformation.

The employers also had to have a sign that they were hiring a werewolf.

Of course, employers didn't want to give an extra five days of vacation for their employees, since that would be losing gold, adding in the fact that the instilled fear that wizards and witches of werewolves would drive away any business, they just didn't get hired.

It was subtle but Umbridge had killed any chance at werewolves getting a stable job for the foreseeable future. It was technically a way to integrate werewolves into magical Britain. Still, all it did was get the already employed werewolves fired, and the others had no chance at getting a job, which means that they couldn't even buy the Wolfsbane potion, which would, in turn, prevent them from ever getting a job. It was a vicious cycle.

This, of course, caused a rise in Werewolf attacks, which was why Dawlish's task force got a bigger part of the DMLE's already depleting budget. The man got a cushy job hunting down werewolves who barely knew how to use a wand, and that was desperately trying to get any sort of income. But with the Smiling Killer phase, he was forced back into the roster with the rest of the Aurors.

This was why the man was constantly complaining, "We shouldn't be here…"

"It's our job, Dawlish," Proudfoot replied, "Bones ordered to include all taskforces in the Smiling Killer case, and that means that everyone is on the same rotation. I know it's not glamorous, but it's only for a day."

"Fine, but I'm talking to Madam Umbridge about it…"

Gawain suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. That guy was a kiss-ass. Still, he had to admit that he wanted nothing more than to get out of there. Not being able to use magic made him uncomfortable. The entire fortress was entirely devoid of magic. Apparently, during some kind of battle, something happened to block the ley line from passing there, like it was clogged or something. The entire island was a void in terms of magic, which was why it was so useful when imprisoning wizards and witches.

The wardens also didn't help matters.

He wasn't talking about the dementors but the actual human wardens.

They were responsible for making sure that the prisoners didn't kill themselves. But they were mostly very cruel and very cowardly. This was a place where they came to satisfy their urges. People didn't ask questions about what happened in this place.

The dementors were technically wardens as well, but the truth was that they were just there to feed on the misery. This was their hive, a way for the ministry to appease them by giving them a steady diet. They didn't care about anything else. They had no loyalty, no pride, no ambition, just the urge to feed off the misery of others.

Thankfully, the Unspeakables were able to make amulets that were charged with magic, capable of stopping the dementors from messing with their emotions. It still wasn't comfortable and could barely last more than a couple of days before running out, but it was better than being subjected to the monsters' aura.

They also had a few charged wands that held a little magic inside that could be released as stunning spells only. Jewelcraft really was very effective when storing magic, but it was still less practical than a wand.

"How long do you think we are going to stay here?" Proudfoot asked as they continued their patrol in the wings where dozens of mumbling short-term prisoners were imprisoned. This was not a section of Azkaban crawling in Dementors, but there were four or five soul-sucking demons 'patrolling' regularly there. 

"We're almost done. And once we're finished, they won't ask us to come here again for months," Gawain answered.

"They better now," Dawlish grumbled.

That guy was an ass.

Thankfully, the patrol ended without anything going wrong. Even the high-level prisoners, were practically catatonic from the dementor exposure. They only needed to get to the wardens and give them their report.

They slowly walked down the stairs to the ground floor, thankful that nothing happened. They wanted to leave this place as soon as possible. Everything was going fine until they heard a scream. They immediately pointed their charged wands towards the stairs, ready for any enemy. When they finally arrived in the room, they found nothing. The wardens weren't there, but there was nothing out of the usual.

"What's going on?" the panicking Proudfoot asked.

"They're probably playing some kind of prank on us or something," Dawlish said but his tone was probably more panicked than he wanted it to be.

Gawain was going to say to keep investigating but noticed something odd. He walked forward and knelt down, only to see what looked like a drop of some kind of liquid. Blood…

This definitely wasn't a prank. He stiffened when he heard another drop. He looked up, only for the torch lighting the room to flicker. By the time the light came back, the ceiling was empty, apart from the minute traces of blood.

Gawain suppressed the urge to gulp and calmly said, "We're under attack."

There was no use freaking out in these situations. A calm mind and calculated decisions had to be the best way to deal with an unknown threat. Of course, his colleagues didn't seem inclined to share his calm, when another yell occurred near the stairs that they just came down from and ran forwards, "Stop!"

He still followed after them. They didn't have their magic, just their charged wand, and there was still strength in numbers. However, the moment got up, the light started to flicker slightly as well, and they heard a yell just next to them. Dawlish used one of his charged stunners at the yell, but it didn't seem to have hit anything. By the time they could see again, Proudfoot was gone.

"Shit!" Dawlish yelled, "We need to get out of here."

He was right. They were not equipped with whatever was attacking them. They were better off just getting away and telling the ministry about it. They would probably be fired for running away, but this was a far better outcome than dying.

They heard another shift behind them, and Gawain sent a stunner at it, hitting the wall, "Damn it!"

They ran up, towards the entrance, back-to-back, to be better protected. If they got back to the boat, they could leave this nightmare. They were making some headway, but they were gasping from the exertion or spite.

Suddenly, they heard another sound, and they started firing stunners at their attacker, only to hit nothing once more. He turned to see Dawlish, only to notice that his partner had disappeared somehow.

With a mixture of terror and frustration, he yelled, "WHERE ARE YOU?"

He was suddenly grabbed from the back and heard a terrifying whisper, "Here."

Gawain didn't have the time to react and he saw darkness. By the time his vision came back, he was chained in a circle, next to a thrashing Dawlish and a trembling Proudfoot. He didn't blame them. He recognized the others to be four of the wardens. The rest must have been killed off or something.

There was a figure in the middle of the circle. It had pale skin, red eyes, and fangs. Damn it, a vampire. No, an entire team of vampires. Behind every one of the prisoners was another vampire.

At the exact same moment, every one of them cut the throat of their prisoner. Gawain felt the burning pain, but his expected end hadn't happened. Instead, he was fully conscious as his blood streamed down in a straight line to the vampire in the middle, who slowly started to cast some kind of blood magic spell.

Normally, you couldn't cast anything in the fortress, but vampires did not need ambient magic for their infamous blood rituals. Their blood was already magical enough to power their meagre spell. If he had his wand and could use magic, Gawain would have probably been able to kill them, but he was distinctly at a disadvantage, and well, he was also dying.

All of the blood converged on the vampire, and he was glowing. The creature seemed to revel in the power he had just received before concentrating it on his hand and slamming it to the ground. The ground seemed to absorb the magic somehow, and the fortress started to shake.

After a few moments, the shaking stopped and the vampire burst into laughter, "For the greater good."

Those were the last thing Gawain heard before the gigantic explosion occurred that vaporized him, the vampires and the first few floors of the fortress as well.

Azkaban had fallen.

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If you want to support me check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr

I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions of them so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.

Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.