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.
Trust and Betrayal
Epilogue -Reflections
Peter Pettigrew was a dead man. He already knew that. The moment news of the Order's successful raid on the Ministry came to Peter's ears he knew his fate was sealed. Already reports of massive attacks on Ministry facilities all across the country were spilling in, and it was only a matter of time before the Minister of Magic resigned to negotiations. He could scarcely believe it, that with one final act of desperation, the Order had altered history. Reformation would only be the beginning.
He groaned just thinking about it. How could he have gambled so much only to lose? Only a week ago, the Order had been on the brink of destruction. But now…now he had lost everything. The Order had won, and Dumbledore had returned his attention to snuffing out their traitor. The old wizard's legion of assassins now prowled the city thirsty for vengeance, all dying for the opportunity to meet the man who had betrayed the Order of the Phoenix.
"Damn you, Malfoy," He cursed the Death Eater Captain. The blonde haired Death Eater had promised Peter protection from the Order in case of any attempts at reprisal, but apparently amidst the chaos Malfoy had forgotten his word. The Death Eaters, as far as Pettigrew was concerned, had disbanded at the first signs of the Ministery's defeat, and were now busy trying to save their collective hides. No one knew for sure all their identities. They would blend back into the magical community, biding their time, waiting to serve their new master.
It was as Peter had once overheard Lord Voldemort tell Malfoy, "We serve England. Not the Minister."
But a whole lot of good that did Peter. He had been lucky so far avoiding most of the assassins that Dumbledore had sent after him, and if he could survive the night he might be able to slip away to the Americas aboard a cargo ship. Peter had lost everything in that raid on the Ministry of Magic, and starting fresh with a new name in a new country was not unappealing. He might be a wreck now, but in time he would recoup his losses.
One good thing, perhaps, had come from the raid. Malfoy had told him personally during their last meeting right before the bastard of a Death Eater had disappeared. The Slayer and the Minister of Magic's granddaughter had been killed. They were dead. Harry and Hermione, possibly the two people Pettigrew hated most and accredited for his downfall. The news of their death did little to nullify the hate Peter felt for the Order, but at least it made him smile, if only for a moment.
Of course, no bodies had been uncovered of either of the two. Peter had shrugged that piece of information off. No doubt a curse or something had incinerated their bodies. It was not unheard of, and if anything the Ministry might have gone ahead and done that themselves to cover up their gross failure. Peter really didn't really care either way.
Peter exhaled deeply. His legs hurt from hours of walking, but he dared not stop. He could not afford to rest in an inn or any other public place in fear of being spotted by Order supporters. They would lynch him on the spot. His only hope was to roam the deserted London streets until morning came when the first ships would be departing from the docks.
He turned and set off in a new direction, walking aimlessly. His path eventually took him into a set of alleyways that twisted and turned; giving way to the mouths of more alleyways until eventually they formed a labyrinth of narrow passageways that connected half the city together.
"Pettigrew," a voice called suddenly in the night.
Peter froze. He involuntarily drew his wand, glancing back and forth in fright. "Who's there?"
From the gloom emerged a man dressed in strange robes. The top portion was pulled down and wrapped around his waist revealing a sinewy torso covered in bandages. In fact, from his waist all the way to his head, every inch of skin was enveloped in white bandages as if the man suffered from some dire disease of the flesh. He looked more like a mummy from Egyptian lore than any man, Peter thought, but the bloodshot red eyes that stared out from beneath the man's tendrils of brown hair were all too alive. They gazed hungrily at Peter, like the bloodthirsty stare of a wolf eyeing his prey.
"What do you want?" Peter demanded, already knowing the answer. He prided himself with the job he had done avoiding the Order so far. But it seemed his luck had finally run out.
The man smiled wickedly, chilling Peter's blood. When he spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper, a guttural rasp that struck fear into Pettigrew's soul. "I have come for you, Pettigrew. For your life. For your soul."
The bandaged assassin had not drawn his wand yet, but Peter pulled his out anyway. He laughed shakily, trying to reassure himself more than anything. "I have trained with Death Eaters, assassin. You will not find me such an easy target as you would like to believe."
If possible, the man's smile widened. He pivoted to the left revealing a curved scabbard dangling loosely from his hip. With his right hand he pushed the wrapped hilt upward with his thumb, presenting the blade that lay. It shimmered brightly as a stray beam of light reflected off the polished steel. Slowly, he drew forth a sword that Peter had never seen before. It was as long as a rapier, but possessed a light curve in its blade that was foreign to English swordsmanship. The assassin pointed it at Pettigrew.
"Don't worry. It'll be quick," He assured Peter.
"You fool!" Roared Peter. "Don't underestimate me!" Screaming, the traitorous wizard lunged at the assassin. The bandaged swordsman just smirked. He did not even wait for Peter to attack. His blade swept up and flashed, creating a luminescent arc of light in the dim alleyway. Blood splashed against the concrete wall, dripping down to seep between the cracks in the cobblestone.
Even before Peter's body hit the ground, the assassin had already turned away, wiping his sword clean of blood. He sheathed it and tucked it away from view, and without a backward glance at the corpse that lay in his wake, strode away.
---
Patrick Langley struggled to stay awake as he poured over the latest logs that sat atop a rickety old crate that doubled as his personal work space. It was tedious work that required little skill but lots of time, and the aging fisherman wished he could say bollocks to all of it and take a boat into the sea where he belonged. He was like a bird in its cage, and the seductive call of the ocean that lay waiting for him in the distance was like a sadistic keeper poking him through bars. He shook his head, clearing the grogginess inspired by boredom and the stifling heat, and turned back to the stacks of parchment.
He cursed softly as a sharp pain at the base of his neck made him wince. He reached and massaged the spot softly. It was but one of several injuries that were left over from his accident one month ago. Fortunately none of them were dire enough to render him unable to work, but this one and countless others all over his body served as a constant reminder of their presence.
The strangest thing, however, about it all was that Patrick could not recall how he had injured himself. He had merely regained consciousness, heavily bandaged, but with absolutely no recollection on how it happened. In fact, no matter how hard he tried, he could not remember anything of any importance that had transpired over the last several months. It had disturbed him, but when he consulted the village doctor, the old man could only conclude it was a mild bout of amnesia, no doubt incurred by whatever injury Patrick had befallen.
And then there was Janus…
The small cottage seemed so empty without the Irishman's exuberance to light up the dimly lit shack. He gazed longingly at the fishing nets that lined the floor, recalling the long hours that they had spent repairing them. Those had been good times. Patrick sighed wistfully and leaned back in his chair. It had been over a month since a villager had found Janus' body up in the mountains and brought it back for a burial, and still he found himself missing his friend. No one had witnessed Janus' death, and the reasons behind it were many. The mountain paths were known to be perilous territory, the romping grounds for bandits and wild animals. Anything could have happened.
He was a good man, that Janus O'Meara. It was disheartening how life seemed so set on robbing the world of all the things that made it worth living in. Fisherman's Village would never again be the same without him.
A cool breeze wafted through the cottage's open door, disturbing Patrick. Involuntarily he looked up and gazed out the window. In the distance he could make out a pair of indistinct shapes approaching, and with a pang of remorse, Patrick half expected them to belong to Janus and one of his friends from the tavern returning from a hard day at sea. As the shapes came closer, the fisherman recognized the outline of a man and a woman heading his way.
Grateful for the distraction from the monotony, Patrick rose from his desk and walked out on the balcony to meet the new comers. They were a young couple probably still in their teens, and the clothes they wore were ragged from what Patrick could only guess had been a very long journey. The man had black hair the color of the night and the brightest green eyes Patrick had ever seen, and the woman was a pretty young thing with hazel hair and eyes. For some reason that Patrick could not place, they seemed awfully familiar.
"Do I know you from some place?" asked Patrick curiously, shaking the man's hand. "I swear I have seen you before."
The raven haired man smiled wryly. "I'm afraid not. We've just arrived."
Patrick nodded, feeling somewhat foolish but still unable to shake that eerie feeling that he had seen them before. It was an indistinct memory, a blurry image of the raven haired man sitting idly at the helm of one of his fishing vessel's, but every single time he tried to focus in on it, it would fade away, leaving only that nagging feeling of vague familiarity behind. He shook it off and reached under the desk for a long roll of parchment that held the name of all their previous customers. In the past, Patrick had seldom bothered with it, delegating the tedious task to Janus, but now that he was gone Patrick had taken it upon himself to continue his friends' work.
"So what can I do you for?" He asked.
"We're looking for a good fishing vessel." The man said.
"Alright, and what's your name?"
The man exchanged a glance with the woman beside him. They smiled at each other, a twinkle in both their eyes as if a joke had been exchanged that only they could understand. The raven haired man turned back to Patrick.
"James and Lilly Evans." He said.
---
Author's Notes:
Sorry about how long it took me to get the epilogue out. I re-wrote it a total of three times. The first time was the depressing ending that was just OK. The second was the inconclusive ending that actually I liked a little bit more. The third (this one) was the happy ending that I knew more people would like and ending up sticking with. I knew the ending was confusing and inconclusive (purposely so) but in the end I decided it wouldn't be right to deprive all of you of a good ending to my first complete writing project.
I was also planning on making a lengthy set of author's notes to explain the different angles of the story that I tried to implement, but I figured it would just be repetitive so I cut most of it. I had an awesome time writing this fusion of Harry Potter and anime (see how many examples you can find -a cookie to those who can list them. Hint: It borrows a lot more than just from Samurai X). My next writing project might be something along these lines again, but I'm not going to start anything new until Book Six comes out so I won't have to rewrite anything.
Thanks to everyone who took the time to read and review my work! Your opinions, thoughts and comments have made this such a fun experience.
-JA_Japster