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Trust and Betrayal by JA_Japster
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Trust and Betrayal

JA_Japster

Trust and Betrayal

By: JA_Japster

Inspired and partially based on the OAV "Samurai X"

Copyright Notice: Harry Potter is copyrighted to J.K Rowling and Samurai X and Rurouni Kenshin is copyrighted to Nobuhiro Wazuki and Shueisha Jump Comics. The fanfiction is the product of JA_Japster and should not be reproduced in any fashion without permission.

Betrayal

Part IX: The Exiled Death Eater

They had been traveling for hours now, sweating under the blazing sun without reprieve or stop for rest. Draco seemed feverishly intent on reaching the spot he had selected as soon as possible so that they could leave this place. It was as if something unnerved the Death Eater. As they walked, he periodically glanced over his shoulder to check for anyone that might be following them, and Hermione was certain the beads of perspiration that dripped down his forehead was not just from the heat. He was nervous; fearful maybe even that the Slayer, Harry Potter, was already in pursuit of them.

Hermione did not need to wonder. She knew Harry had awoken already to find her gone, just as she knew Draco's assassins would not be sufficient to kill him. She had seen the man fight, and no one could match the speed and power of his wand. What Harry would do after that Hermione did not know. Perhaps he would return to the Order grief stricken. She prayed so. Then she might never need to meet him again, to feel the guilt in her heart renewed at the sight of the man she loved and betrayed. However, she knew this not to be true. Harry would not let her betrayal lie. He would hunt them down, like a mother bear deprived of her cubs. He would come to her no matter what.

Draco too seemed to sense this the way his eyes darted around the forest at the slightest of noises. His wand was drawn and his body was tense, anticipating an ambush at every step of their journey. Even though he had made every precaution to guarantee a quick, safe extraction from the village, he knew the attack would come -it wasn't a matter of if, but when.

Suddenly, Draco froze. Hermione peaked around him. Something up ahead blocked the path. She groaned.

Ahead, standing in the middle of the road, blocking their way was a man dressed in frayed black robes. He was faced away from them was a hood obscured the back of his head, concealing his identity. He did not turn to meet their gaze as the sound of their footsteps assailed his ears. Not even when Draco raised his wand to address the newcomer did he stir. Though they could not see his face, the powerful aura of magic that radiated from the man was unmistakable.

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. She had hoped it would not come to this. She did not know how Harry could have tracked them down so quickly unless of course…

She shot a horrified look at Draco, but he paid her no heed. Draco had orchestrated this! He had told Wormtail where they were going, just so Harry would race to confront them! How could she have been so naive as to trust a Death Eater?

"Slayer!" Draco yelled.

At the sound of his name, his true name, Harry turned.

"I should have never trusted you," he whispered. His words were so soft that they were barely audible, but the hurt in his voice and the regret in his eyes as he spoke were painfully clear. Hermione began to say something, wanting nothing more than to deny his accusations, but she could not. Harry was right. Her betrayal was now complete. Tears overwhelmed her, and Draco quickly ushered her aside out of view. He turned and smiled gleefully at the Slayer.

"That was your mistake." Said Draco.

Harry shook his head. "No. It was my choice."

"Harry…" Hermione called as Draco tried to push her back. Fighting desperately, she broke through his arms, and between sobs yelled, "I love you!"

Harry did not respond, and Hermione was not sure if he had even heard her. His face conveyed nothing of the hate and the anger that boiled within his soul. Slowly, he reached into his robes and removed a small scroll. With a swift gesture, he snapped the seal and unfurled it for her to see. Hermione's face paled and unconsciously backed away when she read the message inscribed on it. It was concise, the message clear.

"It's from the Order," Said Harry, "Calling for the death of Hermione Granger, granddaughter of Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, and traitor to the Order of the Phoenix." He tossed the scroll at her feet.

"Harry…" Hermione pleaded, tears streaming uncontrollably from her eyes, but Harry was in no mood to listen. He continued steadily, ignoring her plaintive sobbing.

"Hermione, you have betrayed your friends, your comrades…" He hesitated and then added softly, "And the man who loved you. For these crimes, I have no choice but to carry out my duties as primary assassin of the Order."

"Harry, please listen to me!" Hermione yelled. "I-I never wanted it to end like this. Yes, I was working undercover for the ministry, and yes I lead the Death Eaters to the Three Broomsticks, but I never wanted you to get hurt. I love you too much to let anything happen to you."

Again, Harry did not react to her words. She might as well have been talking to a stone wall for all the response she received. She wanted to scream, to yell; to do anything so that Harry would be convinced that her love for him was sincere. She would have done anything for him to believe her…but it was too late for that. Harry hated her, and Hermione could not blame him. For what she had done to him, for the pain she had caused, she did not deserve his love.


"I'm so sorry, Harry." She said.

"I really hate to interrupt this touching scene," Draco interrupted. He glanced around. They should be in range of the teleportation area. "But we really need to leave." From his robes he removed a scroll covered in markings of teleportation, and flicked it open.

Harry's eyes widened and dashed towards them, his wand leaping to his hands. He could not let them escape. Words for the incantation for a killing curse formed on his lips, and with a wordless cry, whipped his wand forward to deliver a lethal blast of energy. Before he could finish, though, something grabbed his wrist and redirected his wand so that the curse shot off course and dissipated harmlessly in the air. Alarmed, Harry whirled around, shaking himself free of his unseen assailant's grip, and leaped backwards.

"Ah, Harry." said Draco, gesturing to the white haired Irishman. "I believe you've met, Janus."

"Janus!" cried Harry. "What the hell are you doing here?"

The fisherman turned to face the young assassin. He was no longer dressed in the casual attire of his occupation, but was clad in the somber robes common to wizard attire. "Hello, Harry." He said. "But I can not allow you to go any further."

"What are you talking about? And what's with the clothing? Wait a second…how'd you know my…" Harry questioned angrily. Realization hit him like a blow to the side of his face, and he shook his head from side to side, mentally denying the apparent truth. "No…please no…"

Hermione was a traitor and Janus was a wizard and also a Death Eater. His mind wondering if it could endure any more abuse, Harry looked at his friend. "So you betray me too, Janus?" He groaned hoarsely.

"I'm afraid so." Janus replied calmly. He glanced at Draco. "I'll take care of this, Draco. It's time for you to go."

"Yes, we've wasted enough time here." Draco agreed. He bit his thumb and smeared a line of blood across the parchment, muttering a quick spell as he did so. A ring of light formed around them, shimmering brightly as it prepared to whisk them away.

Not content to give up, Harry leaped toward them, preparing another curse before the scroll could complete its work was complete. Before he could reach them, however, Janus intercepted him and roughly shoved him backwards. Harry snarled angrily and instinctively lashed out at Janus, hurling the prepared curse towards the Irishman. At close quarters such a spell should have killed him instantly, but much to Harry's amazement, it barely grazed the side of Janus' cheek as it tore past, leaving only a small rivulet of blood.

"Get out of my way, Janus."

"No." Janus replied. "I was given strict instructions to keep you from pursuing."

"I don't want to fight you!" Harry yelled.

"Neither do I, Harry, son of James and Lilly Potter."

Harry smirked. "So you know my parents name. Hermione told you I guess."

Janus chuckled. "No, she did not. I knew you were their son the moment I saw you. You have Lilly's eyes."

Harry paused and looked at the Death Eater. "What did you say?"

"You have Lilly's eyes." Janus repeated.

"Her eyes? You knew my parents?" Harry asked. He had never known his parents and any piece of information about their past had always been a source of interest to Harry. Sirius, however, had never divulged much in that respect.

"Indeed. I was an orphan when your father took me under his wings to train me. I studied with him for several years. He was, you could say, the only father I ever knew."

"The only father-" All of a sudden Harry recalled the story Janus had told him on the boat. Janus had told him he had ended up condemning his father to death through his betrayal…. "You lie. My father did not die in prison. He was murdered." Harry said.

Janus smiled slightly. "So you remember my story. I confess I did alter my story ever so slightly so that it would fit somewhat better in context, but the essence of it remains intact. You see Harry, your father was a Death Eater, just like me."

"What?"

"He was one of our best men. A great fighter and a brilliant tactician. But one day he decided he could not stomach the dirtier work we sometimes are needed to do, and left. The Death Eaters would not allow this."

"So they killed my father? The Death Eaters killed my family?" Harry asked. With each word his voice grew until he was practically screaming.

"No," Janus replied softly. "I did."

Harry attacked without thought. He was too angry, too hurt, to formulate any strategy. All that he wanted was to hurt something, to kill something, and Janus just happened to be the only outlet for his rage. Curse after curse lashed out at the white-haired Death Eater, but Janus was quick to defend himself. With the grace of a dancer, he leaped out of the range of the deadly flashes of magic until he came to a landing several yards away from Harry. He smiled at the assassin and brushed some dirt off of his cloak.

"Why, Janus? Why?" Harry screamed. He did not expect an answer nor did he wait for one. He raced after the Irishman, his wand ready to strike. With a bellow, Harry swung his wand, sending an arc of light at Janus' head. Without lightening fast reflexes, Janus ducked under the curse, and then rolled out of the way of several other curses that tore chunks of dirt out of the ground. Harry raced after him, pressing the attack on his reeling opponent. So consumed was Harry in his bloodlust, that he almost did not notice the surreptitious hand gestures flashing on Janus' right hand.

A hand seal!

Swearing, Harry broke off his assault and leaped backwards a moment before a tower of flames leaped from the ground where he had been standing. Fire singed his robes, and he could feel the heat from the blaze that he only just escaped. Scorched dirt and blazing embers rained down from the sky, but Harry did not shield himself from the fiery storm. His attention was locked on the Irishman, too wary of the amazing power Janus had just exhibited to take his eyes off of him for an instant.

Hand seals were a form of wandless magic that allowed witches and wizards inept with a wand to access the vast powers of their birthright. They channeled a wielder's internal magical energy through their hands which became a conduit, a tool used to manifest their powers into the real world, not unlike a wand. Various formations and movement would create different spells and so on. While seemingly ideal for magic casters, a grave danger came attached to the usage of hand seals. A single careless mistake would unleash the users' magic, raw and unrefined, into the world and the results would be catastrophic. There had been stories were many knowledgeable wizards would attempt it after years of study only to destroy themselves and their villages. The quest to acquire the coveted art claimed so many lives over the years that the Ministry banned its usage several centuries ago. It was simply too dangerous.

And yet Janus had successfully formed a seal without any hesitation. This feat alone told great lengths about the man's hidden skills.

Harry's eyes flashed wide with alarm as Janus' hands began moving again speedily, transitioning from one seemingly meaningless gesture to another until they flowed together into one continual motion. Harry knew a little about seals, but not enough to begin to guess what manner of attack Janus was preparing. There was no need to. Janus ended the incantation with an ancient word that rang with the magic power it contained, and the next instant a trio of fireballs materialized in thin air and shot towards Harry.

Harry's wand slashed wildly ahead of him, conjuring a shield to deflect the blast. The first fireball exploded against the magical barrier, spraying fire across its invisible surface, and the second went wide, streaking into the sky. The third, however, crashed at Harry's feet, sending fragments of burning rock ripping at his unprotected legs.

"Damn!" Harry muttered. His wand swished expertly in the air and a strong gust of wind shot out from the end of its tip, blasting away the flaming shrapnel back towards it creator. Janus smiled and carefully ducked under the scorching missile.

Harry backed away from the Death Eater. This was all happening too quickly. First he had discovered that Janus was a wizard, and know he was learning that his former friend was incredibly strong as well. Harry had thrown himself into this fray unprepared, confident that his anger would overwhelm any opponent, but now that would change. Slowly, he shed his outer cloak so that he was standing only in his black leggings and tunic, and then he removed his second wand.

"Impressive." Harry heard Janus whisper. "Not many have mastered the arts of duel wielding."

Harry ignored his comment and twirled both wands, holding one high across his face and the other low near his waist. Though he was an expert in the art of duel wielding, he seldom practiced it as it required a great deal of energy and concentration. Only when it was absolutely necessary would he bring it into play. If he wanted to secure a victory over the white-haired Death Eater, he would have to give it his all.

Moving in slowly, Harry approached Janus. The albino wizard did not react at all, so Harry lunged, bringing in his right wand in a vicious arc at Janus' head. Without waiting to see if it landed, Harry was already moving into the second stroke, whipping himself around and slashing with the left wand at Janus' midsection. Like a dancer going through a routine, Harry's wands struck with equal precision and speed. The blows came in swiftly from all angles, blazing multicolored light, in an unpredictable pattern unknown to all aside from Harry. Against any other wizard in England, the onslaught should have quickly overwhelmed them. But through sheer luck, talent, or foresight, the Irish Death Eater stood his ground, dodging every single one of Harry's relentless strikes.

Letting his impatience get the better of him, Harry did not back off and reanalyze his strategy but instead charged back in, letting his wands do his thinking for him. Time and time again, a curse would come so close to touching the Death Eater, but each time Janus would miraculously bend or weave just the right way to avoid death. Harry did not know how the Irishman was doing this, constantly staying one step ahead of the tapestry of death he created. He just could not hit the bastard no matter how hard he tried.

"Damn you, Janus!" Harry yelled.

Janus just smiled in the face of his former friend's rage.

---

Janus was impressed, honestly impressed by the range of skill that the young Potter boy exhibited. No wizard as young as he should not be able to wield two wands simultaneously for so long nor should they be able to command the level of spells that Harry so freely cast at him. His form of dueling was flawless as well, derived from the art that James had shared with his friend Sirius Black. It was swift and deadly, and the boy controlled it beautifully at such a young age. Surely this boy was James' son. It was a shame that Janus needed to end the boy's life. Harry's potential was so great that Janus had no doubt in his mind that Harry would one day grow into a very powerful wizard.

But that was not to be. Harry Potter had to die.

Janus calmly stripped off the upper portion of his robe, leaving him only clad in a pair of black, loose fitting leggings. He smiled faintly at the look of justified revulsion on Harry's face as the younger man gazed upon his torso. While lithe and muscular, it was not a beautiful thing to behold. It was redolent with countless scars, each more horrendous than the one before it. Janus, however, was not ashamed of them. Each scar on his body was a testimony to a battle that he had earned from battles where he had survived and his foes had not. They were as much apart of him as was the power that dwelled within him, the cursed magic that had dictated his fate from childhood until this very moment.

For five blissful years Janus thought he had escaped from his past of gratuitous bloodshed and death, but now he saw he had only been fooling himself. He had tried to hide from the assassin that lurked beneath the surface, his true nature, and his best friend had almost ended paying for Janus' stupidity with his life. Painted in blood, Janus' fate was clear. He had killed before, and now he would kill once last time. It was inevitable. He was what he was, and nothing could ever change that. Once a Death Eater…always a Death Eater.

"My turn," Janus said.

---

Harry blinked and almost missed it. One second the Irishman was standing across the path, the next he had disappeared, streaking towards Harry in an untraceable blur of color. Janus suddenly reappeared right in Harry's face, his fist thrusting right at Harry's face. Harry quickly dispelled his surprise and sidestepped around it, but before he could retaliate, another fist rocketed towards his chest.

This time a gasp of amazement escaped Harry's lips as he took a step back, his wand weaving in coordination with words flowing from his lips. The ground shook and a thick concrete wall exploded from the dirt to guard himself from the Death Eater's attack. It was not good enough. Janus' fist plowed through the barrier as if it didn't exist, giving Harry only a split second to move out of the way before it shot past in a hailstorm of torn rock. Using the debris as a cover, Harry spun away, flinging a string of curses blindly into it to keep Janus from pursuing.

Can't let him hit me, Harry thought, fighting for breath. A single blow will kill me. But why?

"What the hell are you?" Harry asked between giant gulps of air.

The placid smile did not waver from Janus' face. "Have you wondered why I don't use a wand, Harry?"

"Why?"

Janus presented his hands towards Harry and only then did he see the black paintings on his arms. A closer look revealed that they were not paintings, but long, intricate strings of ancient text written in artistic calligraphy. They were runes, Harry realized, runes of suppression and sealing. A thought dawned on Harry.

"They keep your magic in," Harry murmured.

"Correct," Janus told him. "I can suppress my powers on command whenever I wish which was why you and young Granger could not detect my true nature until now. In addition, they allow me to manipulate my magic however I wish. With a simple thought, I can make it resonate from my hands and feet, giving me the ability to hit harder and move faster than any wizard could ever dream of."

"You're a freak!" Harry snarled. He used his anger to disguise the fear growing within him. Janus was indeed incredibly fast and a master in unarmed combat. While Harry had a little training in it, he would not be able to stand toe-to-toe with an expert for long especially since Janus could channel magic through his fists and feet.

Janus charged forward again, launching a wave of swift deadly kicks and punches that Harry knew he could not counter. Instead, he swished his wand, conjuring a magical shield that he hoped would absorb the force of the blows. It deflected the first punch, but the second was enough to shatter it, sending Harry reeling backwards, fighting desperately to ward off the barrage of attacks. Janus' leg streaked from the corner of his vision, and Harry was forced to clumsily throw himself backwards to avoid it.

He hit the ground hard, rolling back onto his feet in one smooth motion and grinned. Janus was fast all right, but he could still keep up with him. Just as he thought that though, his vision began to wane. The world shifted, back and forth, and before he could stop himself, he vomited violently, spewing forth blood. Confused, Harry collapsed to his knees, stifling the flow of blood that seeped from his lips with his hands.

What the hell? I blocked his attacks…didn't I?

He tried to stand, but his entire body screamed in protest. Tottering unsteadily on his feet, he gingerly touched his torso, and a sharp stab of pain from his ribs reported that at least a few had been broken. Blocking or deflecting the blows weren't enough it seemed. The aura of the powerful magic that radiated from Janus' hands and feet could still cause tremendous damage even if they didn't make direct contact.

Can't even let the bastard get close to touching me…but how?

Suddenly, Janus leaped back several yards away, surprising Harry who had been anticipating another attack. This might have been a prime opportunity to launch another offensive, but he was too weary to move much less attack. Instead, he watched as the Irishman extended his arm until his palm pressed flat against the ground. In a hushed whisper, Janus began whispering words so intricate and complex that Harry realized they could only belong to an incantation of immense potency. Most of them were ancient, and a few Harry recognized were forbidden words of magic that wizards of old had branded too destructive to utter. Icy cold dread formed in his veins, creeping up his spine as he watched the spell progress.

Blue flames leaped to Janus right palm, but it wasn't the normal fire that burned when he released his powers. This time the flames intensified until sparks danced wildly from the burning pyre, but even then it was only the beginning. The sparks evolved into bolts of crackling electricity that wrapped around his palm, hissing and snapping as they grew larger and larger, dancing up and down his right arm.

"Let's end this," Janus said.

---

Author's Notes:
Sorry it took so long to finish this chapter. I've been lazy I know and I haven't been all that motivated to write right now. I know it's probably hard for Trust and Betrayal to pick up new readers because it's grown to be so large (only four more chapters!) but I hope that everyone who reads this drops a review of some sort. I don't mind short ones, I just need some affirmation that people are still reading.