Death.
That is all Rhys Orpington wants.
Harry struggled to keep himself in check as he watched Rhys’ agents continue to plant bombs within the Ministry of Magic while Daphne and Amelia were giving their final debates. There was nothing more that truly needed to be said between the two of them. Daphne strove for progress, a change from how the Ministry of Magic had operated for the past few hundred years. She would usher in an era in which muggleborns and half-bloods would be as respected as pure-bloods, and those families who continued to discriminate against those they deemed lesser would be punished.
Amelia wanted great things too. She wanted a world in which no crime went unpunished. She argued for legal reforms and improved ministerial capabilities, but none of it went anywhere near as far as what Daphne suggested. Amelia’s aim was for progress to be sure, but it came at such a slow rate that Harry doubted much would change.
The pure-blood houses who continued to manipulate the government from the shadows would be allowed to remain. Amelia lacked the conviction necessary to change the entire system at hand.
In normal circumstances, Harry couldn’t begrudge Amelia’s decision. But Britain had just exited from a war, and Britain needed to change for the better.
If he believed that he had any chance of convincing Amelia to change her beliefs, then he would’ve done so already. She was a clever and intelligent witch, but she was far too stuck in her own ways. No matter what Harry tried to show her, she’d still hesitate at the very best. And that wasn’t good enough.
She had to be dealt with, one way or the other, and until Harry heard back as to what Amelia was planning to do with Proudfoot and Dawlish’s plans, he was hesitant to take any action at all. Amelia was a good woman; she wasn’t like Dawlish at all. He didn’t want to sabotage her and turn her into a public disgrace.
But if that was necessary to achieve his goals…
“Hurry up,” Julian Oakes hissed. The middle-aged wizard was showing signs of stress as sweat freely dripped down his cheeks. He kept glancing about nervously like an uncomfortable animal searching for a hidden predator. Of course, there was no way that he would know that it was Harry himself who was spying on him and his three allies.
The three young men that were with him were sweating too, but that was more from effort than anything else. They were all up on Level 1 where the Minister for Magic’s office was, as well as the offices of all of his aides and support staff. Even this late at night, there were still quite a few active workers about that they were trying to avoid.
“Shut up, Oakes,” a blond-haired man replied. “We’re working as fast as we can.”
“Not fast enough,” Oakes insisted. “The Aurors will be up here to sweep this level any minute now.”
“Then we should have waited to start after they swept through here. Regardless, we have proper work orders,” the blond man said, rolling his eyes.
“It’s arrogance like that which will lead to your downfall, Lestrange.”
Lestrange? Harry thought that with Bellatrix’s death, the family was all gone now. Rodolphus and Rabastan both died less than a year after the war’s end, and he didn’t know of any other family members that they had. Maybe it was an offshoot of the main branch.
He was just one more reason why Harry had to put a stop to this. If he wasn’t trying to remain incognito, he would’ve been sorely tempted to put an end to this Lestrange here and now for all that his family has done. Working with Rhys just showed that he wasn’t trying to become a better person than his family members were.
Lestrange sneered at Oakes. “You’re only here to hold the bombs and help us out if anyone scrutinises us too much. The fact that you’re even here shows how little Orpington values you.”
Oakes drew himself up, trying to stand tall. “My being here shows that Lord Orpington trusts me to oversee his most important project.”
“Believe whatever you want,” Lestrange shrugged. “But if it isn’t already clear to you, he put me in charge of this mission.”
“Actually, I’m in charge.”
Harry frowned, squinting through the fabric of his invisibility cloak to try to get a better look at the man who’d just spoken. Had it not been for his overly-pompous voice, he could’ve been mistaken for a Weasley due to his red hair and freckles. But his voice sounded like—
“Nobody cares what you have to say, Nott,” Lestrange glared.
Nott? Theodore Nott?
The man there looked nothing like Nott, but his voice matched up perfectly. Ever since Harry had uncovered Rhys’ plans at Nott’s Manor, Gabrielle had kept a close eye on the man. The Auror Department had an active watch over all floo connections to and from his manor, but Gabrielle hadn’t reported anything unusual coming from there. Maybe he was being cautious and apparated everywhere instead or there could be a leak in the Auror Department or the Department of Magical Transportation who was covering for Nott.
“Our lord does,” Nott replied evenly. “And should you wish to ensure his continued favour, all of you would do well to complete his task without any further bickering. We have precious little time and a large area to survey. Now, shall we complete our work, or should we return to our lord with our tails tucked between our legs and excuses on our tongues?”
Other than the one unnamed man who seemed utterly unbothered by the situation, the others seemed painfully frustrated by Nott’s words. For a moment, Harry genuinely believed that Lestrange was about ready to strike Nott across the face, but then he forcibly turned himself away to try to calm down.
“Let’s get on with it then,” Oakes said, trying to take some degree of control of the situation.
Squabbles like this reminded Harry of how children acted in the schoolyard back when he attended a muggle school. His cousin, Dudley, acted the bully because he was bigger and stronger than those around him, and he gained followers through that. But there was always jostling and jockeying between those who sat beneath him in the hierarchy. Harry didn’t have any problem with that in principle—after all, he’d jockeyed for Dawlish’s position successfully—but it was clear that none of these other men had any true backing, rationale, or power to support their desired rises to power.
With virtually every known Death Eater dead or arrested, all that was left were the dregs and new bloods who were trying to make names for themselves. Any hint of intelligence of true possibility was hidden beneath these painfully-weak attempts of showmanship.
As Lestrange dug into the wall, Harry quietly sighed to himself and focused his mind. It had been a long time since he’d cast this spell, but he knew that the effects would be stronger than ever.
“Imperio,” he murmured under his breath.
Suddenly, Lestrange’s back shot up straight. It looked like he’d pulled a muscle or suffered a cramp in his thigh, but the truth was that Harry’s magic was overriding his mind. It almost felt like the connection Harry felt back when Snape had tried to teach him Occlumency, only the feeling was reversed. He was entering into Lestrange’s mind without actually visualising anything. There was just a connection between them that only Harry could exploit.
“Give me the bomb,” Lestrange ordered Oakes, but the words were entirely Harry’s. He’d given Lestrange the command within his mind, and he’d executed it perfectly.
Oakes shiftily reached within his robes and pulled out a crystal ball with shimmering colours within. Lestrange snatched it from his hands and jammed it into the wall, pretending as though he was going to bury it within. But Harry mentally ordered him to stealthily pull the orb back and hide it within his robes.
Lestrange’s hand hitched on the edge of the hole in the wall he’d created, but it came out smooth enough, and he slid the orb inside of his robes. None of the others seemed to notice, which was exactly what Harry had been hoping for.
Overseeing each bomb placement became no easier for Harry. Even a single one actually being placed properly and being set off could cause a tremendous amount of damage to the Ministry building and the city of London above. It wouldn’t be enough to destabilise the wards entirely, but hundreds would die as a result.
Lestrange kept working smoothly, which Harry was grateful for. Oakes was too busy scanning around them for any real Ministry workers to actually pay attention to what Lestrange was doing, and Nott seemed to trust Lestrange enough to not micromanage his work. Their final compatriot though was the one that Harry still couldn’t make sense of. He was a relatively nondescript, brown-haired man with a gnarled wand and eagerness to bore holes into the walls. Beyond that, he simply stood aside and watched. He, out of all of them, was the most likely to catch Lestrange doing something odd.
Yet, as Lestrange continued to work, this unnamed figure didn’t show any signs of noticing that anything was amiss. He helped to patch the walls back up with Nott and then they all walked along to the next site. Harry wondered if he was here as an extra fighter if everything went wrong.
Eventually though, Harry’s luck ran out.
“Hey,” Nott hissed as he grabbed Lestrange’s shoulder with one hand and his retreating wrist with the other. He twisted it back, showing that the crystal ball was still in his hand. “What are you doing?”
Thinking quickly, Harry implanted the words he wanted in Lestrange’s mind. “It doesn’t feel like we’ve dug deep enough yet. I was going to gouge out more of the wall—”
“You can reach in up to your elbow, can’t you?” Nott asked dryly, like he was talking to an idiot.
“I didn’t think I could,” Lestrange replied, a genuinely confused look coming across his face.
Shaking his head, Nott jammed Lestrange’s hand back into the hole. “Reach in then.”
Lestrange did, and his arm only came to a stop after the edge of the wall was touching his bicep.
“Idiot,” Nott scowled. “Did you lose your brain along with the rest of your family when they were killed?”
While Harry knew exactly how he’d react if someone said that to him, and given that Lestrange had seemed like a man with a big ego, the command he gave was simple: attack Nott with everything you have.
Suddenly, Lestrange yanked his arm out of the hole and tackled Nott to the floor. They went down together in a heap, scrambling like animals as the crystal ball fell haphazardly to the wayside. It rolled away until the unnamed man stopped it with his foot as he watched on with slight amusement as Lestrange threw punch after punch at Nott.
Nott was doing his best to try to protect his face, but Lestrange attacked with the fury of five men combined. He swung wildly, intent on landing as many hard blows as possible without much care as to exactly where they landed. Punches rained down on Nott’s arms, the sides of his head, and even on his ribs.
“Enough of this!” Oakes shouted, dropping to his knees to try to separate them. “Lestrange! Control yourself!”
Harry ordered him to do exactly that. Lestrange was stunned, staring down at his bloody knuckles like he didn’t recognise them. Nott was bleeding from cuts on his face, and his left eye was already beginning to swell up.
“Get him off of me!” Nott shouted, his voice full of fear.
Oakes shoved Lestrange off of Nott and quickly drew his wand. “Episkey,” he said with a flick of his wand. Nott’s cuts quickly stitched themselves back together, making him twinge at the mild discomfort he felt from it.
“What’s going on down there?!”
“It’s the Aurors.” Oakes’ eyes went wide.
“We planned for this,” the nameless man said. Faster than Harry expected, the man quickly transfigured his robes to match that of a Hit Wizard. Then, he pointed his wand at the three men. “Drop your wands.”
Oakes did so shakily while Nott took his out from within his robes and tossed it to the ground. Harry commanded Lestrange to do the same, which he did after a moment’s hesitation.
Harry frowned at that. He could feel Lestrange fighting back his control over him. Maybe he’d pushed him too far with that attack on Nott.
“Not you,” the nameless man told Oakes. “You’re a lord here, a member of the Wizengamot. You weren’t involved in any of this; you were only passing by.”
Two Aurors quickly appeared around the far corner of the corridor as Oakes picked up his wand, both rushing in with their wands drawn. Harry knew them both: Gemma Farley and Stebbins, the man he’d replaced on Azkaban. Stebbins was quite young, only nineteen, but Farley was a very experienced Senior Auror. Their eyes scanned for threats exactly as they were trained to but clearly saw that everything was under control now. They lowered their wands but still kept them in their hands as they looked on at the Hit Wizard. It was certainly an odd sight to see one of them up on this level.
“I have the matter under control,” the nameless man told them confidently, injecting just enough boredom into his tone to make it seem real. “It seemed to be a tasteless joke taken poorly. I’ll see to it that they’re taken down to the Department to be questioned.”
“We can take care of that,” Stebbins said as he stepped forward.
The unnamed man tilted his head to the side. “Aren’t you lot busy with your patrol?”
“Just got relieved, actually,” Farley explained. “We’re on our way back down anyway. We can get them into temporary holding cells and call their supervisor over.”
“And have the Aurors take another case over from a Hit Wizard,” the man laughed lightly. “We’ve got to keep our case numbers up too, you know.”
“Then come with us if you want,” Stebbins shrugged. “Besides, you’re a bit outnumbered here to be taking them all down by yourself.”
“I doubt they’ll make any more trouble now that they’ve got all of this out of their systems,” the unnamed man replied. “Besides, Lord Oakes can accompany me. He was passing by when the altercation occurred, so I’ll require his statement too.”
“That’s right,” Oakes said with a weak smile.
Farley frowned. “Why are you being so difficult? You know that our departmental regulations don’t allow for deputising citizens to act as guards. Just—”
Just as before, the nameless man reacted faster than Harry expected. He whipped up his wand and repeated the same motions that Harry had used earlier that night. “Imperio. Imperio.”
The second spell got off before Stebbins could fully form a spell. His magic fizzled out on the tip of his wand, and he was left standing like a dazed puppet just as Farley was.
Without needing to say a single word, the nameless man gave them both mental commands. Together, they turned and left the scene.
“We’re done for tonight,” he told everyone. “Patch up the hole and we’ll leave for now. We’ve planted enough bombs to guarantee our redundancy already.”
“W-what did you do to them?” Oakes asked.
“I’ve added another contingency to our plans,” he smiled.
“Our plans?” Nott glowered as he got to his feet. Clearly, he was terribly angry at being humiliated and needed to lash out at someone. “You’re just some nameless follower who latched onto our plans for the gold or a measly attempt at finding some power once all this is done. Let me tell you that—”
The unnamed man let the glamour charm over his face fade, revealing a gaunt face and shoulder-length black hair. Even without being able to see the man, he knew exactly who it was.
“Lord Orpington?” Lestrange croaked out, still in a bit of a daze from everything that’d happened.
“You didn’t think I’d leave the grand finale of this plan unattended now,” Rhys smirked. “Nott, do as I commanded.”
Through his wide-eyed surprise, Nott did exactly as he was asked. Meanwhile, Rhys reached down and picked up the crystal ball that’d stopped by his feet.
“These ingenious inventions are going to lead to an upheaval that we’ve only ever dreamt about,” Rhys smiled dreamily. “The Ministry will fall, and a new age shall begin. Those two Aurors will be the harbinger of our message.”
Harry’s wand twitched in his hand. He could take them all down now and put an end to things. He could finally reveal that he was still alive and make a big splash before the election.
On the other hand, a devious idea crept into Harry’s mind.
“No, allow me, my lord,” Lestrange practically begged. He lowered his head. “Please. I’ve made a fool of myself here tonight. I wish to repay you in any way I can. Besides, the people here are responsible for the ruin of my house. I am the last of my family, and I would let the Ministry know that they haven’t defeated us yet.”
Rhys smiled at the idea. Of course he would. It all played up to his grand plans to change Britain. Of course, he lacked any of the true intelligence or cleverness that Voldemort or even Emile had.
“What a splendid idea. The Aurors will escort you before the entire Ministry on the day of the election and let you deliver my message on stage. You will witness firsthand as all of Britain trembles as their world crumbles beneath their feet.”