15. A machine with morals

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06/01/21
6055 words

*This chapter contains depictions of war and violence, if you cannot handle these topics I suggest you don't read the next few chapters.*

I panted and thrashed as I tried to comprehend what I just saw. Who was Avery? How did Draco get to be the minister of magic? What were those blue energy spikes? Why him? Why was I offering myself?

I quickly snapped back to reality as I heard killing curses being shot at rapid pace, and groups of Aurors in blue uniforms jogging past. One of them stopped to look at me.

"Y/n, welcome back." The Auror nodded. I couldn't see who it was as they had their hood on, only green eyes peered through the light blue material. The voice was familiar and then it clicked.

"Harry? Is that you?"

The figure lifted up their hood and there, infront of me was Harry Potter.

"What force are you in?" He smiled, holding his hand out to me. I stood up off the floor.

"I'm honestly not sure. As I remember I was in the same one as you."

His eyebrows rose, "are you not authorized?"

I shook my head, "I'm here to help. I figured you could use it."

"You're alright. Come with me, do you have a blade?"

I nodded, and glanced down to my pocket.

We ducked through a hole in the wall and arrived in a large hall, the floors were soaking wet and screams and curses echoed through the air.

Muggle graffiti covered the grimy once white walls and random items such as broken muggle washing machines and fridges, broken sofas, cans of food and beer bottles were littered across the open space.

"Y/n, I trust you know what you've brought yourself into. I'm going with the fourth team to extract the legilimens, I advise you help the hold off the intercepters."

I nodded and watched the man stride away from me. He had filled out and his eyes were a much darker shade of green from what I could see through the hood.

I ran across the wet floors, ducking curses and slipping through battle grounds, stopping every few seconds to give a fellow the upper hand.

My eyes fell onto a tall man in the center of the room, dressed in all black, his hood tight over his face. His figure reeked of authority and power. Some one you'd avoid in a fight, some one you wouldn't want to fuck with. To late. I'd already fucked with him. In more ways that one. I mentally slapped myself, now wasn't the time for my dirty bloody mind.

I knew who it was instantly. I married him. I knew his build from anywhere, the way he towered over me every night gave me some memory to indicate. What I'd do t- no. I slapped myself again, stupid fucking hormones. The way he fought was unlike many else in the room. The most experienced Aurors barely held a par to the way he so effortlessly flicked his wrist, leaving distruction in his wake.

He showed no hesitation, shooting curses and dodging them extreme ease. Plowing down anyone in his path. I hadn't seen him fight in years but I'd read the reports. They were right. He was completely ruthless. A machine. I winced as he pulled the blade from his hip and sliced a large warlocks throat. He scowled as the blood seeped onto his skin and brought on his next dueller.

I knew he wasn't even fighting to full potential. If he did the damage would be... colossal. His ruthlessness, precision and the ability to cut off his emotion completely would be too much.

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