Chaos

Chapter 7

I figured I would make the rest of you happy by finishing this chapter.

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"Talk"

'Think'

"Parseltongue"

"Nightshade"

Chapter 7 – Ending it

Harry hissed in anger, slashing at the muggle's neck that was trying to strangle one of his Venatores. The man fell, neck almost cut clean through. Harry helped Justin Finch-Fletchley up before sending out his Hellhounds to hunt the muggles in the underground. The hounds, solid with whisps of shadows dancing off their forms, attacked the muggles with voracious hunger. The muggles had fled into the underground tunnels in hope of escaping, but Harry couldn't allow that. He was done with this. He was done with the fighting and the killing. He wanted this war over before the day was done. He only prayed that they could do it. He used his shadows to jump ahead where his Hellhounds were howling. They had found more of the muggle soldiers.

Harry lost himself to the fighting. Each time he thought they were almost done; he would be called to a new location and the fight would continue. He could only keep his sanity by holding tight to the bond with the Pack. He monitored them all closely, unwilling to lose a single one of them even though he knew they were well trained and protected. This was the last of the resistance. Lord Death and Mother Magic had been directing him where to go. Leading him to the pockets left with fight in them. Each time he gave the muggles a chance to surrender and each time they chose bloodshed. He understood though. They started this war. In their eyes what he led was an unprovoked attack. He felt sick to his stomach, but he knew his path as Mother Magic and Lord Death urged him forward.

Over and over again, Harry heaved for breath in his burning lungs. The smoke in the air burned his skin and eyes. The screams were a ringing in his ears to the point he couldn't distinguish the voices anymore. His magic was lashing out, making muggles stumble before he ended them. He felt lightheaded but he couldn't stop till this was over. He needed this war to end. He didn't know how much he could handle destroying life. He was covered in ash and blood. The ground was covered in blood, turning the soil to mud and the streets to rust.

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Harry didn't feel joy as he stood before the city. The flames hungerly reached for the sky as the muggles being devoured screamed. The smell of charred flesh permeated the very air, making it feel like he was going to choke. It was a scene from the world of dreaming but this time he wasn't asleep. Lord Death stood silently beside him and his Venatores cheered behind him. He stood silently, watching as the flames of his dreams, his haunting nightmares mocked him. Even from the distance he stood he could see the few muggles that they didn't kill, trying to find a way to live. Their screams, agony and fear mixed in fury and desperation, were almost drowned out by the roar of the greedy flames. His magic, fierce fire and bone chilling ice, felt static as he was bombarded with the noise. It was wrapped around him, unwilling to spread out, to feel and interact with the space around it. He had done this.

This was last stronghold of the muggles. He wanted to weep, fall to his knees and scream his sorrow of the wasted life and spilt blood. He wanted to rage that it wasn't fair that so many suffered like this, but he couldn't. He, after all, was the cause of it. He couldn't weep and scream and rage. He wouldn't. It would make their suffering, their deaths, their sacrifices less. He couldn't even be truly regretful because if he was, then that was doubt about why he did it in the first place. Yes, Harry mused silently as his Hunters celebrated and his Pack and fellow Lords joined him, he could be sorry about the situation becoming so bad that this type of solution was needed in the first place, but he could never be sorry that he did it.