Chapter 325: Chapter 325: "The First Strike"
Harry didn't have to wait long before the call came. Only three days after their meeting at Black Castle, before the intelligence network had even been fully established, Sirius's voice echoed from the enchanted mirror in his pocket:
"Harry, it looks like our services will be needed tonight."
Within minutes, Harry stood in Black Castle's main hall. Arcturus was already waiting, his expression as sharp and grim as ever. Sirius leaned against the wall, arms crossed, but his usual air of levity was absent. The tension in the room was palpable.
Arcturus wasted no time. "An old friend of mine, Ivan Karanov, has sent a message for help. He's a Bulgarian wizard—a dark one, yes, but not aligned with Voldemort. He's refused to join the alliance, and Voldemort's forces have been pressuring him for weeks. Now they've escalated. Ivan has learned that they plan to attack his family tonight."
Harry's jaw tightened. "An example," he said flatly. "They're going to use his family as a warning to others."
"Exactly." Arcturus's tone was bitter. "Ivan's usual allies have abandoned him, afraid to oppose Voldemort's alliance. He reached out to me as a last resort."
"How many defenders does he have?" Harry asked.
"None," Arcturus replied, his voice edged with frustration. "He's alone."
Harry nodded, his mind already racing. "Then it's just us."
He turned to Sirius, a glint of determination in his eyes. "Ready for your first night of vigilante work, Padfoot?"
Sirius grinned, though there was a steely edge to it. "Always. Let's show them what happens when they mess with the wrong people."
Before they departed for the mission, Sirius insisted on seeing Mira in action. "Just to know what I'm dealing with," he said. "I don't want any surprises mid-battle."
Harry and Mira were more than happy to oblige. In the castle's expansive training room, Harry unveiled his secret weapon: the life-sized clone, controlled entirely by Mira.
Arcturus raised an eyebrow as he observed the setup. "Practicing the magic I taught you, I see. But the clone should be weak, shouldn't it?"
Harry smirked. "Not this one. I modified the spell—improved it. It's more than strong enough for what we need."
Sirius crossed his arms, skeptical. "So Mira controls your clone from afar. It sounds impressive, but let's see if it's as good as you claim. I have my doubts."
Harry grinned. "Feel free to test it out for yourself. Have a friendly duel with Mira and the clone."
Sirius rolled his eyes but stepped forward, rolling his shoulders in preparation. "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you if this thing crumbles under pressure."
The battle, however, was over almost as soon as it started. Mira demonstrated her skill with the clone, controlling it with precision that had clearly improved since Harry's last fight with the vampires. The clone moved with blinding speed, spells deflecting harmlessly off its surface as it closed the gap between itself and Sirius in seconds.
Before Sirius could react, the clone's sword was pointed at his throat.
"Bloody hell," Sirius muttered, staring at the blade hovering an inch from his skin. "No wonder you trust Mira more than me for backup."
Harry chuckled, though he couldn't entirely suppress his concern for Sirius. "The clone will have your back out there. Just… try not to do anything reckless, alright?"
Sirius exhaled deeply, raising his hands in mock surrender. "No way. I love my life. I'll behave."
Mira beamed with pride, the clone lowering its sword and stepping back. Harry gave her an approving nod. With the demonstration complete, the group left the training room, ready to face the night's mission with renewed confidence.
As twilight descended over the Bulgarian countryside, three masked figures approached Karanov Manor. The ancient building loomed against the backdrop of darkening mountains, its wards humming with faint, ancient power. Arcturus had arranged the Portkey, ensuring their journey was smooth. Harry wore his customary disguise—a mask concealing his face to hide his identity—while Sirius and the clone flanked him, also masked.
Bringing Mira and the clone was risky. If anyone connected them to the Knight who had decimated the vampire covenant, it could complicate matters. But Harry decided the added risk was worth ensuring Sirius's safety. Mira, as usual, controlled the clone from a hidden location nearby.
Karanov himself waited at the gates, a proud but visibly tense man with steel-gray hair. Several male members of his family stood behind him, their faces reflecting worry and resolve.
Sirius spoke, his voice magically disguised. "Stay inside your wards. No need for you or your family to fight. Let us handle this."
Karanov nodded curtly, trusting the reputation of his old friend Arcturus. With a firm gesture, he ushered his family back inside the manor.
Harry and Sirius took their positions outside the gates. Mira had already slipped into her vantage point in the surrounding forest, the clone at the ready under her control.
They didn't have to wait long.
With a series of sharp cracks, ten figures Apparated at the edge of the property. Their dark robes billowed ominously in the wind, and their confident stance suggested they were seasoned fighters—not fresh recruits. Harry recognized their standard Death Eater attack formation, a clear display of their experience.
"Spread out," their leader barked, his wand raised. "Break the wards and—" He stopped abruptly, spotting the three masked figures standing between him and the manor. His eyes narrowed. "Who dares interfere?"
Harry stepped forward, his voice cold and altered by the enchantments in his mask. "Leave. This family is under our protection."
Harsh laughter rippled through the Death Eaters. "Under your protection? Why would anyone bother defending these fools? Do you even know who you're up against?"
Harry's tone remained steady, ice-laced. "I know. I'm fighting a dark lord too afraid to reveal himself to the world. Scared that the moment his return is known, he'll fall apart."
The leader stiffened, then snarled. "You dare mock the Dark Lord? You know nothing of his brilliance or strength. Also such confidence going three against ten? You're either very brave or very foolish."
Harry tilted his head slightly. "Three is more than enough."
The leader sneered, raising his wand. "We'll see about that."
The Death Eaters attacked in unison, their curses lighting up the night like a deadly storm. Harry moved with fluid precision, his shield charm expanding to protect all three of them. The clone surged forward, its sword glinting ominously, while Sirius unleashed a flurry of spells with the practiced skill of a seasoned Auror.
This fight was unlike Harry's usual battles. He couldn't rely on stealth or speed, not with Sirius at his side and the need to ensure his safety. Smoke and mist were out of the question; stray spells had to be accounted for. But his power, even when restrained, was more than enough.
The battle unfolded like a deadly dance of magic and skill.
The clone tore through their ranks, its blade slipping past shields and counterspells with surgical precision. Spells that struck it fizzled harmlessly, deflected by the magical construct's resilience. Sirius demonstrated why he was one of Britain's top Aurors, his spellwork sharp and devastating.
And Harry… Harry was a force of nature.
He held back his most destructive spells—there was no need to reveal his full strength—but his restrained arsenal still commanded awe. Bolts of lightning chained through the enemy ranks, stunning them in waves. The ground beneath their feet erupted, throwing them off balance. Gale-force winds howled at his command, scattering their formation like leaves.
Two Death Eaters fell to the clone's blade, lifeless before they hit the ground. Sirius, however, struggled with Harry's earlier directive to prioritize lethality over subdual. He managed to bind three Death Eaters in creative, intricate traps—alive, but completely incapacitated.
"Padfoot," Harry said sharply as he deflected a curse with a lazy flick of his wand. "This is war, not a sparring session."
Sirius hesitated but nodded grimly, launching himself back into the fray.
The remaining five Death Eaters faced Harry directly, desperation etched into their faces.
"What are you?" one of them stammered as his shield shattered under Harry's assault.
Harry didn't answer. Instead, he sent the man flying with a silent spell. Another tried to Apparate away but slammed into the anti-transportation wards Harry had cast earlier.
The leader, braver or more reckless than the rest, launched a Killing Curse at Harry. The clone intercepted it, the deadly green light dissipating harmlessly against its enchanted form. Before the Death Eater could process this impossibility, Harry's spell slammed into his chest, ending the fight.
In less than five minutes, it was over. Ten Death Eaters lay either dead or incapacitated.
Harry signaled to Mira, who emerged to direct the clone. The construct efficiently rounded up the survivors, dragging them off. They wouldn't see the light of day again. Sirius shifted uncomfortably but said nothing. He understood the necessity—letting them live risked facing them again, an endless cycle of conflict.
"We should leave," Harry said, his tone calm but firm. "The Dark Alliance won't realize what's happened until morning. By then, the message will have spread."
Sirius hesitated, his expression conflicted, but followed without protest. Once they were safely back at Black Castle, he finally spoke, pulling off his mask. His face was flushed, a mixture of exhilaration and unease.
"That was… intense," he admitted. "But effective. Though I couldn't help noticing—you were holding back, pup."
Harry removed his own mask, glancing at Mira as she rejoined them with the clone. "No point in showing all our cards yet. Tonight wasn't about destruction—it was about sending a message: joining Voldemort isn't as safe as they think."
Sirius grinned, the tension easing from his shoulders. "Message received, I'd say. And that clone of yours… Merlin, it's something else. Mira, you're absolutely brilliant with it."
Mira's wide grin lit up the room. "Mira is happy to help Master Harry and Master Sirius!"
Harry smiled faintly, though his mind was already turning to the next steps. Tonight was only the beginning. Let Voldemort wonder who dared challenge him. Let him waste time and resources hunting shadows. Piece by piece, Harry would dismantle their plans before they could ever take root.
Chapter 326: Chapter 326: "Fighting for Family"
The rest of November passed in a whirlwind of calculated strikes and rapid recoveries. Arcturus's newly established network operated like clockwork, pinpointing threats almost daily—a family under pressure, a magical community targeted by intimidation, or a wavering ally courted by the Dark Alliance. And each time, three black-masked figures would appear, dismantling plans, defeating Death Eaters, and leaving chaos in their wake.
Back at Black Castle, the toll of their skirmishes became increasingly evident.
"Hold still," Emma scolded Sirius one evening, examining a jagged hex burn stretching across his shoulder. "This is the second time this week I've had to patch you up."
"You should see the other guys," Sirius quipped with a grin, only to wince when Emma applied a healing salve that burned on contact.
"Should I?" she shot back dryly. "Because at this rate, you're going to end up like the other guys Harry fights."
From a nearby chair, Fleur sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "You are too reckless, Sirius. 'Arry tells me you charged straight at zeir shield wall yesterday."
"It worked, didn't it?" Sirius countered with a smirk.
Fleur's expression darkened, her accent thickening with exasperation. "Only because Mira 'ad ze clone tackle you out of ze way of a Killing Curse! You could 'ave died!"
In the corner of the room, Mira was meticulously repairing the damaged clone. The magical construct had seen heavy action over the past few weeks. Sword nicks marred its frame, scorch marks from spells streaked its surface, and a particularly nasty cutting curse had nearly severed its left arm. Mira's small hands glowed with magic as she carefully rewove its structure, her focus unwavering.
"Mira is sorry ze clone got damaged, Master 'Arry," the house-elf murmured, her ears drooping slightly.
Harry, leaning against a nearby wall, offered her a reassuring smile. "You've been brilliant, Mira. The damage doesn't matter, as long as you and the clone keeps Sirius alive."
"Oi!" Sirius exclaimed indignantly from the healing table, though his grin gave away his amusement.
Emma snorted as she wrapped a fresh bandage around his shoulder. "You're lucky Mira's magic is stronger than her patience. Otherwise, she might've let that clone trip you instead of saving you."
"An excellent idea for next time," Fleur added, her tone icy enough to make Sirius glance warily at her.
Across the room, Harry watched the exchange with a faint smirk. Despite the constant danger, there was comfort in these moments of camaraderie.
---
Meanwhile, in a fortress far to the east, the Dark Alliance seethed with frustrated rage.
"Another recruitment party ambushed," Magnus growled, his pale face drawn with frustration as he delivered the report. "Seven of our best warriors overwhelmed. Always the same group. Always the same pattern."
Voldemort's crimson eyes burned with barely restrained fury. "Three masks. The same tactics. They strike with precision and disappear before reinforcements arrive. A ghost on the battlefield would leave more evidence."
By the fire, Grindelwald shifted in his chair, his sharp eyes gleaming with amusement beneath his calm exterior. "Systematic, methodical," he murmured. "Whoever they are, they have intelligence far better than I'd expect of your Ministry spies. Someone is feeding them information."
Magnus turned his gaze to Vladimir, his voice edged with suspicion. "Could it be your Knight, Vladimir? The fighting style is familiar. The precision, the speed—it sounds like him."
Vladimir's expression darkened. "Perhaps. The reports of a sword-wielding figure do suggest the Knight, but his attacking style or strength is not the same as the Knight I faced. Either he's holding back, or someone new has appeared. If he has allies, it's a complication we didn't anticipate."
Voldemort paced the room, his movements as precise as they were menacing. "Increase the size of our recruitment parties," he ordered coldly. "Twenty wizards at minimum. And add vampires to the groups."
"My lord," Vladimir interjected carefully, his tone measured. "The covenant is still recovering from our last losses. I cannot spare many for such missions without compromising other operations."
Voldemort turned sharply, his eyes narrowing. "Then make do. I want those three brought to me. Alive. They have been a thorn in my side long enough."
A tense silence followed, broken by Grindelwald's soft voice. "Patience, Voldemort. Let them think they're winning. Every small victory only fuels their overconfidence. While they waste time on these skirmishes, we prepare our larger moves—Azkaban, perhaps?"
His words hung in the air, a soothing balm to Voldemort's simmering rage. The younger Dark Lord's posture relaxed slightly, though the red fire in his eyes did not diminish. Grindelwald had become accustomed to playing the voice of reason, tempering Voldemort's volatile moods when failure threatened to unravel their plans. He knew the cost of such outbursts—new recruits were unnerved by Voldemort's flashes of wrath, and potential allies grew hesitant. He couldn't allow that.
Grindelwald leaned back, his tone turning almost fatherly. "We must be strategic. Let them focus on shadows while we prepare to shift the world beneath their feet."
Magnus nodded, his sharp features relaxing as he processed Grindelwald's wisdom. Vladimir, though still skeptical, refrained from arguing further. Voldemort resumed his pacing, his fury simmering just beneath the surface.
For now, Grindelwald's calming presence kept the alliance from fracturing under the weight of its setbacks. But even Grindelwald knew patience would only hold for so long. They needed a decisive victory to stabilize their ranks—and soon.
---
Back at Black Castle, Harry stood over a map covered with magical markers showing the locations of their recent operations. Nearly ten successful interventions in less than three weeks. Each one had saved lives and denied Voldemort new allies, but Harry knew they couldn't keep up this pace forever.
"They're adapting," he said to Arcturus. "They've started sending larger groups and varying their patterns. We'll have to be more selective with our targets going forward."
Arcturus nodded thoughtfully. "Their recruitment efforts have slowed, at least. Many families are using your interference as an excuse to delay committing to the Dark Alliance. They claim they need more time to 'consider their options' now that they know someone is resisting."
"And Dumbledore?" Harry asked. "Still no sign of him?"
"None," Arcturus said, his expression grim. "He should have made some sort of public move by now. Normally, he'd be calling for the arrest of you vigilantes while rallying others to his cause. His continued silence is... unsettling."
Harry's thoughts drifted to Dumbledore. The old wizard's prolonged absence hinted at something more than the curse slowing him down. He'd seen Dumbledore's name pop up on the Marauder's Map a few times in his office, but whatever the man was doing, it was too secretive to decipher. While Harry was curious, he knew better than to try prying into Dumbledore's plans. The man was a master of secrecy, and meddling would likely lead nowhere.
Later that evening, Harry found Fleur waiting for him in his study. Her face showed traces of worry, though she masked it with a warm smile.
"Another successful night?" she asked, helping him remove his mask and cloak.
"Two families protected," Harry confirmed. "Though Sirius almost got himself killed again."
"'E tries too hard to prove himself," Fleur said with a sigh. "To show zat 'e belongs by your side."
"I know," Harry said, running a hand through his hair. "That's what worries me."
She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him, her presence soothing the tension in his shoulders. "You cannot protect everyone, mon amour. Not even Sirius."
"I can try," Harry murmured into her hair. "I have to keep my family safe."
On the desk, reports from Arcturus's network hinted at larger movements within the Dark Alliance. The small recruitment drives were just the beginning—Voldemort was clearly planning something bigger. But what?
Emma poked her head into the study. "Sorry to interrupt, but Sirius is asking about tomorrow's operation. He's still favoring that shoulder, Harry. I really think he needs a night off."
Harry nodded in agreement. "You're right. Though convincing him won't be easy."
"Leave zat to me," Fleur said, a determined gleam in her eye. "I will ask Amelia to 'help' convince 'im."
Harry couldn't help but smile, grateful for the strange but loyal family they had become. Between Emma's healing, Fleur's steady support, Mira's unwavering dedication, Arcturus's wisdom, and Sirius's reckless bravery, they had formed an unusual but highly effective resistance to Voldemort's plans.
As autumn deepened toward winter, their shadow war continued. Every other night brought new challenges, new threats to counter. But Harry knew they were making a difference. Every family they saved, every ally they denied Voldemort, was a small victory in a much larger conflict.
What puzzled Harry most was the eerie silence from the wizarding ministries across Europe. Despite this shadow war unfolding under their noses, no ministry had publicly acknowledged the growing danger. It was as if they were following the same strategy as the British Ministry: stay silent and hope the threat disappears on its own.
Harry felt a flicker of bitterness toward the ministries. For a moment, he even considered letting them fall to ruin if they refused to act. But he pushed the thought aside.
"I'm not fighting for the wizarding world," he reminded himself quietly. "I'm fighting for my family. Saving the world is just a side effect."
"Come," Fleur said, tugging his arm gently. "You need rest too. Ze dark lords can wait until morning."
Looking at her determined expression, Harry knew better than to argue. Sometimes, he realized, the greatest strength was knowing when to let those who cared for you take charge. Smiling softly, he allowed her to lead him out of the study, leaving the weight of maps and plans behind—at least for tonight.
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