Blood of Mud, Wing of Bat

Chapter 45: No Exceptions

Perhaps because of Nesbitt's portrayal of a 'birthday party full of rambunctious young children', Hermione had half expected that the Death Eaters would be invading a bright house full of laughing people. But of course it was 3:15AM - everybody would be asleep. And after all of the buildup back at the Death Eaters' launch point Hermione had been braced to witness a battle, but instead all was dark and quiet.

Malfoy's Portkey had taken him to a garden in a residential neighborhood, outdoors under a chilly night mist. Hermione recognized the target house from the wizard-photo back at the raid launch point. She could only assume that the rest of the Death Eaters had been transported directly inside.

Malfoy made no move to try to enter the house himself, but instead stepped carefully around its perimeter, watching and listening. Hermione realized that acting as lookout during the raid must be one of his scouting responsibilities. An alert lookout could give an early warning if Aurors appeared, or get rid of any Muggle who might happen to wander into the garden by mistake. There'd be no reason for a Muggle to come by on purpose, because the Death Eaters' wards would prevent any sound or light from escaping, making the house seem just like any other house. Nobody would realize something awful was happening inside.

But something was happening.

Hermione's fly body felt the raw expenditure of magic in the area like a swelling pressure, an unnerving build-up of static prickling every hair. She didn't doubt Malfoy could sense it faintly too, but a wizard wouldn't be able to feel it as keenly as an animal would.

And now some physical evidence of what was passing inside began to make itself known as well. A meat-fly, a carrion-eater, could not fail to know when fear and torture and death had occurred nearby. Their myriad scents were a powerful stimulus and attractant, things that in daytime would draw a true meat-fly to its scavenging duties from many meters away. Hermione could sense hundreds of additional people as well, populating not just the house but the entire surrouding area and other houses, by the subtle scents and noises of their existence. She'd never put this ability to the test in terms of trying to keep track of large numbers of specific people at once, but for the first time she considered just how helpful such a skill would be on a raid like this. A Death Eater who could become a small creature with an excellent sense of smell, and who took the time to really train that ability, would be a potent weapon in their arsenal. No wonder Malfoy feared being replaced by an Animagus scout!

Once Malfoy had completed a circuit around the house, with all remaining still and silent, he stopped at the side stair and eased himself down onto a step to take the weight off of his feet. But he appeared poised for action anyway, his wand still in hand and his weirdly glowing eyes clearly alert for trouble as he waited for them to be finished inside.

Two huge brown birds passed overhead, silently winging their way westward in formation.

Hermione knew that the Aurors were unable to predict the targets of Death Eater raids and that meant she was now in a very unique position. Not only did she know the exact location of a raid in progress, but nobody knew she was there. That meant if she could find a way to get that information to Aurors right away, this raid could be interrupted with potentially a dozen Death Eaters captured and Muggle lives spared.

Her mind raced as she weighed her options.

The No-Fly-Zone Malfoy had requested in the yard would have been intended to slow the arrival of broom-mounted Aurors, or the escape of any broom-owning witches or wizards who might be among the raid victims. But such a ward would also prevent Hermione from flying away. If she wanted to leave anytime soon, she'd first have to run to the ward's boundary on foot.

Once away, she'd have to be crazy to use any form of transportation that would leave a permanent record tying her to this crime scene. That ruled out both Apparition and Floo. Her best bet would be to fly straight to the nearest public owl facility and hire one to carry a note to the Aurors' anonymous tips staff. So which one was the nearest?

If a window had broken, or a door opened, the Death Eaters' wards would have blocked the sound.

Therefore, the first indication that someone had escaped the target house was the muffled thud of feet on wet grass.

In the next moment, a Muggle man in striped pyjamas and bare feet came pelting around the corner of the house and past them at a dead run, making for the rear garden. The wards on the house had prevented the man from spotting Malfoy lurking perfectly still there on the stairs.

"Oh no you don't," muttered the wizard, jumping to his feet and raising his wand. He aimed, but the Muggle crashed sideways through a bush and abruptly vanished.

Malfoy's wand tip flicked upward in surprise. Hermione realized there must be a third gate in the wall behind the hedge, one Malfoy had not noted down in his survey. That Muggle had just escaped to whatever was on the other side. After a moment's indecision Malfoy growled low under his breath and stepped away from the house and the protections of its wards. He glanced briefly skyward, searching for something, but Hermione could see nothing.

Did he suspect those two birds were patrolling Aurors?

Holding his wand ready he began to advance quickly across the lawn toward the spot where the Muggle had disappeared, his footfalls held as soft as he could make them. Hermione could hear him counting under his breath. The seconds, she realized. In case he needed to go back in time to prevent this.

Even as he was doing so, she was quickly planning her own next action. So long as he carried her toward the boundary of the No-Fly Zone, she was better off remaining astride. But the moment he passed it, she had to be ready to take off and sprint for the nearest public owlery. The one near the Cambury Fairgrounds was nearest, and she could only hope there'd be owls present at this hour.

Then Malfoy swore and lurched to a halt just short of the hedge, and at the same time the Muggle started waving his arms and yelling out in the street, now clearly visible. If those pelicans had really been Aurors their attention was surely going to be drawn by that! And now the Muggle was running up to a door of a house across the street and pounding on it for good measure.

Only a sharpshooter could have hit anybody with a curse at this distance and in the dark, and Hermione knew it even before Malfoy extended his arm and fired.

"Missilis Cerastes!"

A jet of white fire erupted from his wand and veered hissing across the intervening space, seeking the heat from the Muggle's body. It was a near-miss, striking the front wall of the house to shatter its windows in a fiery blast and sending the Muggle diving for cover. But already there were voices in the air... the trouble had indeed been spotted by an Auror patrol, and a couple of men on broomsticks had already flown into view.

Meanwhile, Hermione had discovered what had stopped Malfoy in his tracks: Illuminated in the flames rising from the missile-struck house, a glowing rune marked the ground near the boundary of the garden - a wizard-trap, designed to prevent non-Muggles from passing to and fro. It had probably been laid by the home's wizarding residents to prevent tresspass by their own kind without drawing Muggle suspicions. Disarming it would take time - assuming one had the skill to do so, which Hermione figured she probably did - but of course she'd have to be in her human form to do it.

And now more Aurors were arriving, by Apparition and by floo. The speed with which they were descending upon the scene was astonishing; they'd clearly had teams waiting only for a signal as to where to go. In no time there were two dozen in view and more on the way. One pair of ickle-aurors had already charged the house only to be struck down stunned by the wizard-trap at the boundary, proof enough that it'd be near-fatal to attempt it as a fly.

Hermione felt a wrench of indecision as Malfoy backpedaled toward the house. She couldn't just jump headlong off him and try to cross the barrier; she might be throwing away her life for nothing. Nor could she hide somewhere on the property, because she might well be found if the Aurors performed a thorough search, and how would she explain that? Being on Malfoy's person for much longer was not likely to turn out well either however. He was about to get shot up by dozens of Aurors!

Malfoy seemed to be having his own moment of indecision. She could hear the panic in his breaths as he made it back to the Death Eater wards near the house, then watched the unfolding drama with increasing agitation. More Aurors were plummeting out of the sky at every moment. Four had already crashed their brooms in the front and side gardens, upon discovering the no-fly zones. But many more were massing on the street, and now more senior Aurors were arriving to take command. It was, to be sure, a complete disaster for the Death Eaters.

Malfoy raised his wand decisively and flicked his wrist to bring the Time Turner to his fingertips. Hermione braced herself, expecting only a time shift, but this time it was immediately followed by an Apparition as well.

An explosion of noise and a barrage of olfactory and visual data.

The Death Eaters had rounded up all the Muggles and had assembled them in the front room for slaughter. The air was filled with tortured screams and the thrashings of bodies. Stunned, Hermione could only watch as Death Eater spells smacked into human flesh and smoke and flying sparks sizzled through the room. A stray bolt like lightning came straight at them and only missed by a handsbreadth.

And then the Muggle wearing the striped pyjamas lunged up from the pile of struggling forms and bolted through a doorway across the room. They had gone back in time to just before the Muggle had begun his bid to escape!

Malfoy leaped forward with a grunt of effort. He cleared a pile of tangled forms nimbly and put on a burst of speed, his eyes shining with an unholy intensity - and without warning, he Apparated again.

Hermione staggered as the brutal squeeze of the second Apparition caught her by surprise, followed by an abrupt reAppearance directly behind the escaping Muggle.

She realized that Malfoy must have gone back in time again just as he Apparated the second time, to make up a couple of moments and catch the Muggle before he could get to the window. To be able to go back with such precision, while in motion, and Apparate with the other hand, showed a mastery of the Time Turner that spoke of far too many uses.

I've got to get that Time Turner away from him.

The man was moving fast, but Malfoy had enough momentum that he was able to tackle him from behind anyway, his arm snaking around the man's neck. Their collision rocked Hermione back on her rump, all six claws clinging, before she managed to leap into the air to avoid getting squashed.

At this point, several things went wrong simultaneously. The Muggle twisted madly and managed to seize Malfoy and throw him off just as the wizard cast Avada Kedavra. That awful green flash temporarily blinded Hermione at the very moment she discovered to her horror that the no-fly zone outside the house must include the inside as well - now that she was in the air, she fell like a rock. She bounced off someone's knee, managed to grab on with one claw before cloth brushed over her and ripped her free again. The next thing she hit was the floor, with their feet thudding down on all sides of her.

The tables had been reversed. The Muggle had a firm grip on Malfoy and was grabbing wildly for the wand, and he clearly had the longer reach. They staggered in a circle as Malfoy tried desperately to wrest himself out of the trap before the Muggle could do him damage. Hermione got up and ran like hell, trying to get out of their way. But no matter which direction she ran, they seemed to come after her; the Muggle was trying to drive Malfoy back toward the door, presumably so he could lock him out and make it to the window and safety, while Malfoy kept dragging him in a circle trying to free himself. Then something wooden clattered to the floor nearly on top of Hermione. It was the wand! The Muggle had succeeded in slapping it out of Malfoy's hand.

Dimly Hermione was aware that they were shouting at each other, their voices made nearly unintelligible by the din just outside the room and the distortion of desperation. The Muggle seemed to be screaming something like "I'm gonna kill you!" over and over while Malfoy kept repeating, "Get off me!" Then the Muggle grabbed Malfoy squarely with both hands and drove him backward into a notch between a desk and a bookshelf, preventing him from doing any more circling. Malfoy snatched up something from the desk and hurled it at the Muggle's face point-blank just as the Muggle let go of him with one hand to take a swing. It was only a pad of notepaper, but it threw off the Muggle's aim for the first punch. It was quickly followed by a paperweight, a book, and a jar full of pens and pencils. Writing implements flew in all directions as the jar bounced off the Muggle's head. The Muggle kept punching him wildly, over and over, most of the blows landing where Malfoy had at least partial protection from the body armor. Then the corner of a small book hit the Muggle directly in the eye, causing him to stagger back with an oath. He still had one hand on Malfoy but this proved a liability rather than an advantage as Malfoy followed through by charging him and attempting to knee him in the groin. The Muggle released him with a yell.

Malfoy lost no time in putting himself between the Muggle and the escape route to the window, even as he scanned the floor wildly for the wand. Hermione knew that if Malfoy could get his hands on that again, the Muggle wouldn't get a second chance. Evidently the Muggle realized this too, because he swore and started looking for it too. But by now the floor was now littered with pens and pencils from the desk. These got kicked in all directions as the two men hunted with increasing desperation for the elusive bit of magic wood.

This is my chance, Hermione realized. If she transformed into her human form right now, with wand in hand, she could catch Malfoy off guard and stun him allowing the Muggle to escape! But her position was entirely wrong, being behind the Muggle with Malfoy on the other side. She started running back in their direction, trying frantically to remember whether she had put her wand in her right or left robe pocket before transforming. Or was it in her sleeve? When had she last been in her human form anyway?

"Ha," said Malfoy triumphantly, having spotted his wand at last. It was on the floor directly behind the Muggle's feet! His right hand came up, the Time Turner spinning and spinning between his fingers, and then he abruptly vanished.

Almost simultaneously, a closet door behind the Muggle burst open and Malfoy plowed out of it, ducking to snatch the wand off the floor from behind the Muggle then scramble back away again. His trailing robe swept Hermione off the floor, tumbling her over and over underneath it before she sprawled into a dusty corner. By the time she got her bearings, Malfoy had faded away a second time, this time due to a soft Apparition.

Reeling, Hermione realized Malfoy must have gone back in time long enough to secrete himself in the closet before the Muggle had run into the room. It wasn't ideal, since it didn't let him prevent the fistfight, but it hadn't required a very precise time shift either. And now he'd strike the killing blow.

A critical moment was wasted as the Muggle tried to figure out where Malfoy had gone now. Then determination set his features. He turned back to the window and threw it open. Just as he got a leg up, Malfoy reappeared silently behind him and lunged at his back, pinning him awkwardly against the window-frame. It wasn't pretty, and it wasn't perfect, but in that flailing moment of impact, Malfoy's arm locked around the man's neck and the wand jabbed into the man's back. A bright green flash marked a second use of Avada Kedavra and this time, it couldn't miss.

Instantly the Muggle was dead, the fight and his flight for freedom abruptly and permanently ended.

My god, thought Hermione, as the Muggle slipped out of the window and toppled backward toward the floor contorted in death. Malfoy spun away from the corpse, neatly avoiding getting entangled with its fall. Even before he'd finished his turn, he'd vanished again, the bang of a normal Apparition nearly drowned out by the sounds of the brawl in the other room.

My god, she thought desperately, as the Muggle's body slammed down, limbs sprawled haphazardly.

And then she realized that she had lost him, she had gotten separated from Malfoy.

The enormity of what had just happen continued to grow, even as she tried to think what to do. If she changed into human form she'd both place herself at the scene of the crimes and make herself perfectly visible to the 20 Death Eaters in the other room. Even if she made it out alive, Malfoy would have another chance to stop her before she left the yard, like he had the Muggle. And even if she got past him too, there was that wizardtrap ward on the property boundary.

But since Malfoy had prevented the Muggle's escape, the Aurors once again had no idea there was a raid in progress in this house. That meant the only way they could possibly find out would be if she herself informed them. Meanwhile, the seconds were ticking past and the entire raid would be over quickly. In another couple of minutes it'd be too late to do anything at all.

Get a hold of yourself, Hermione thought fiercely. You have to think your way out of this. After all, she wouldn't be able to save anybody else if she couldn't save herself first.

The first step was clearly to get out of the house, and to do it while still in fly form. She couldn't fight 20 Death Eaters at once if she was spotted in her human shape, nor could she Apparate out through Death Eater-specific Apparition wards.

Grimly she started running along the floor to the still-open window, then up the wall and out over the sill. Once outside she continued on the house's siding, feeling it was taking far, far too long. Even now she felt the use of magic beginning to ebb, suggesting the end to the raid was near.

But when she found Malfoy kneeling on the ground by the steps, head down, his breath was still coming painfully hard. He was bracing himself against the steps with his right hand, his wand hand curled against his chest. In reality only seconds had passed since he'd Apparated from the room, and he'd probably used the intervening time to check the perimeter once again just in case.

It took many seconds longer, though, for him to regain his composure. It would have been easy to kill or capture him now, when his concentration was fully on himself and his attempt to recover from the fight. It wasn't happening quickly. His eyes weren't on his surroundings, his wand not at the ready. But even if Hermione thought she could take him, she didn't think she'd get as lucky as she had that first time without advance planning.

But I'll have to, she realized. I'll have to do something. He can't be allowed to keep doing this.

But what could she do? She couldn't make it past the boundary of the garden, and the magic-usage inside had finally drawn down to nearly nothing, signifying that the raid was over. Malfoy, too, seemed to be aware that it was time to move. He glanced at his watch and seemed to pull himself together, rising to his feet a little more heavily than before, but his eyes still shining with at least half of the original intensity of before, eerie and awful.

It took an act of sheer will for Hermione to force herself to climb onto the edge of his robe and make it back up to his shoulder, so that she could bear witness to what would happen next.

The living room contained an appalling and grisly sight - more than a dozen bodies lying burnt and mutilated in various heaps and positions. There was blood everywhere. And not all of them were dead -- sobbing and stifled noises came from among the fallen.

Malfoy began to step carefully between the bodies, bending over one and then another and examining them briefly. Hermione realized he must be checking to see if they were dead. Total elimination, no exceptions.

"Help me," whispered a voice. The third body wasn't dead. It was a woman who'd been deformed by a dozen different torturous jinxes. Tears streaked her beaten face. "Please help me."

Malfoy's eyes shone down at her with that unholy light. "Turn over, Muggle," he demanded. His voice should have been hoarse and panting, but it was not. Instead, in that moment, it was lazy and imperious and uncannily like his father's.

"Oh god.... please," begged the woman.

"I said turn over," he snarled. He ducked in to snatch at her nightdress with his free hand, trying to drag her over onto her front without touching any more of her than he had to. She rocked but did not tip over and he stepped away again, circling her with light steps.

He's going to AK her in the back, Hermione knew with a sudden, horrible certainty.

"Please," whispered the woman urgently.

Malfoy darted in from the other side, this time planting his foot on her shoulder and pushing her all the way over. Then he pointed his wand at her back.

"Please no!" shrieked the woman, and they were her final words. There was an awful green flash and she too was dead.

Hermione didn't want to think Nesbitt was right. But absolutely nothing she had seen here so far contradicted him. Malfoy did scout for the raids, and he did make critical decisions regarding them. He did kill innocent Muggles by AKing them in the back. He was the first one in, and the last one out. She didn't doubt but that she'd soon see him send up the Dark Mark as well.

It was one thing to pretend Danager had died of a heart attack or that Malfoy had killed the Muggle in the striped pyjamas out of self-defense. But this! This was the cold-blooded murder of helpless innocents, for no reason at all other than that's what his orders had said to do.

There were two others still alive in the heap of bodies, and a fourth in one of the back rooms. Malfoy dispatched each of them in the same manner, turning them over first before AKing them in the back. None of these was able to speak to him and their murder was accomplished with a grim silence. The process would have seemed almost mechanical except that he handled each one with the same physical diffidence with which he'd handled the first, as if forcing himself to touch them were the most difficult part of the whole sordid process.

After making sure all of the Muggles were dead Malfoy returned to the living room and leaned against one of the window-frames, peering through the slit between cloth and glass at the street outside.

Hermione wondered if it was even possible to know regret or remorse or horror while under the influence of those combat drugs; through the hazy white gleam of their dying glow, his eyes seemed to hold some some bizarre mix of dazed ferocity that said more about the muddled effects of the fading potions than it said about his actual feelings at the moment.

But she shouldn't kid herself - she could remember all too well the look she'd seen in his eyes at Ernie's Café: completely and utterly without soul. Malfoy was no longer the terrified boy he'd been in their sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts, the one who - according to Harry Potter - hadn't quite managed to kill anybody despite his best efforts. Somehow in the years since, Malfoy had learned how to commit these atrocities and survive it. And what did it matter if he couldn't look them in the face when he did it? It was still killing whether it was done from in front or behind.

And he was so careful. None of the Death Eaters had witnessed these murders, nor could any of them easily prove what had happened to Danager. It was no wonder the Ministry was having difficulty coming up with solid evidence against him!

At this moment, Hermione wanted nothing more than to end it now, to catch him by surprise and strike him down so that no Muggles would ever have to die by his hand again. But he still had his wand, and he was wearing body armor and thick robes that stood a good chance of absorbing or foiling a first or second curse. The room was quite silent now, giving him an excellent chance to hear her coming. And that potion he'd drunk may have passed its peak, but it'd still be affecting him for hours to come. St. James had said as much. While that was the case his senses and his reflexes would far surpass her own in her human form.

But she couldn't stand by and do nothing. She had to end this, to make sure he never did it again. She'd just have to be intelligent about it. She would plan carefully, leaving nothing to chance. She'd wait until Malfoy was incapacitated, asleep or drunk or maybe she'd lay a trap that would bespell him. And then, like Nesbitt, she'd strike when he was unconscious or otherwise unable to defend himself properly and where there would be no witnesses. It was the only way.

Malfoy glanced at his watch one last time, then pushed himself away from the wall.

"Let's do this," he muttered to himself, and raised his wand for Apparition. Hermione braced herself and endured a prolonged, awful Soft Apparition as they silently rematerialized outdoors, on the house's front lawn.

There were no Aurors facing them across the broad dark expanse of the grass. There was no one at all. Not yet. They would not even know anything had happened until the skull and snake appeared in the sky above the house. After all, Special Ops thought they had Malfoy safely tied up in interrogation in St. Mungo's courtyard. And how could Cov Ops be expected to uncover any raid plans in advance, when not even the Death Eaters themselves knew them?

Malfoy thrust his hand into his pocket and came up with the remaining one-shot. He turned it over briefly in his hand, looking down at it. Then he muttered what sounded suspiciously like a prayer.

It would be so easy for the one-shot not to work. Let him displease the power that provided the devices, be it the Inner Circle or Voldemort Himself, and all that would have to happen was for the one-shot not to work to leave Malfoy stranded at the scene of the crime and ripe for the Aurors' picking. With seeming reluctance he placed it back in his pocket. Of course he had no choice but to trust it'd work.

He then aimed his wand skyward and muttered, "Morsmorde!". With a crack like lightning, the Dark Mark shot up from his wand and into the sky, bathing the entire block in a ghastly glow.

Hermione thought he'd squeeze the portkey immediately once the dark mark went up, but instead he waited, tucked into the wards on the house, and watched the Aurors begin to arrive.

As before, they came in droves, darting down on broomsticks and popping in via Apparition. Hermione could see their faces in the light of the skull and snake - they looked young and very frightened. Ickle-Aurors. In another few moments, they would have enough numbers and enough heavy-weight leadership present to attack the wards and then charge the house. It was time for Malfoy to leave.

But even now Malfoy lingered a moment longer, squinting across the dark expanse of the grass at the Aurors massing across the street. And then he made a noise deep in his throat, like a growl, and Hermione recognized Pansy among the arrivals, and at her side was Ginny. They both looked grim and determined despite their fear.

Only then did Malfoy thrust his hand into the pocket of his robes and squeeze the final one-shot.

And his god, at least this time, was merciful.