Trust and Betrayal
By: JA_Japster
Inspired and partially based on the OAV "Samurai X"
Harry Potter is copyrighted to J.K Rowling and Samurai X and Rurouni Kenshin is copyrighted to Nobuhiro Watsuki and Shueisha Jump Comics. The fanfiction is the product of JA_Japster and should not be reproduced in any fashion without permission.
Trust
Part VI: Waltz in the Rain
"Well things could have gone better." Remarked Ron, walking briskly to keep up with his partner as they made their way through the hallways and back to the tavern. The meeting had ended somewhat unceremoniously with the pair having been more or less kicked out from the room following an equally brusque remark that Harry had made.
"You know," Ron said, "when Dumbledore invited us to observe the meeting, emphasis on observe, I don't think he really wanted us to say anything."
"What did you expect me to do?" Harry. "Let them proceed with this madness undeterred?"
"We're soldiers, Harry, not politicians."
Harry scowled and said nothing.
"What I mean was perhaps being so brazen in your comments to Yale of all people was not pertinent."
"And letting that fool burn London to the ground is?"
The meeting had not gone well for the two. They had sat with Dumbledore, listening intently to the argument made by the leader of the southern division of the Order, Yale. He was proposing a radical plan to light hundreds of fires around London simultaneously, and in the ensuing confusion, launch a full-scale attack on the Ministry and seize it by force. It would end the war in a week, he pointed out, and reduce casualties on both sides.
Several other lesser officers in the Order agreed. It was an ingenious plan that would work according to their strategists. Dumbledore, however, was staunchly opposed to it. Unaware of the building rage in the young assassin beside him, he began to speak only to be interrupted as Harry leapt to his feet.
"You fool!" He bellowed. "If carry on with this sort of madness we won't have much of an England worth saving!"
The meeting room fell silent and a dozen pair of eyes stared at the raven-haired young man. Yale turned and glared at Harry icily. "And just who are you?"
"He's a soldier." Dumbledore said hastily. He tried to pull Harry's sleeve so that he would sit back down, but Harry resisted.
"And does this soldier have a name?" Yale was an older man, complete with a short white goatee that gave him a refined sophisticated look, but even his elderly appearance could not disguise the inferno that suddenly lit up his eyes.
"His name is Harry Potter." Harry said. "And he thinks you are an idiot."
"Silence!" One of the junior officers yelled. He waved to one of the guards nearby. "Remove this man immediately!"
"No, let him stay." Yale intervened. "I'd like to hear the idealism of an ignorant youth. Harry…Harry…yes, I'm familiar with that name. A common foot soldier renown for his insolence and disrespect for authority, but I had no idea you were such a coward as well."
Harry did not visibly react. His cover of being an ordinary soldier in the Order was necessary to veil his true purpsoe from the Ministry. "I'd rather be a coward than a murder. If your plan goes through God knows how many innocent will die in the uncontrolled flames."
"A necessary cost for the preservation of England." Yale responded.
"And what will we be remembered as?" Harry spat with contempt. "Murderers? History will be built on the bodies of civilians and the Order's name will be stained with their blood. I refuse to have any part of this madness."
--
"Yale may be rash, but he is no fool, Harry." Ron argued as they made their way down the stairs. "He's helped get the Order this far. Perhaps there is some wisdom in his plan."
"Killing a couple hundred thousand of our fellow countryman sounds brilliant, Ron." Harry said sarcastically.
"Well, Dumbledore won't be shifting on his position in the matter anytime soon, so I can safely say we've reached a bit of a stalemate. Yale won't act without Dumbledore's support. In any case, Dumbledore gave me some instructions. He wants the both of us to make ourselves scarce for a while, then to come back here and he'll speak with us."
"He wishes to speak with us?" Harry asked.
Ron sniggered. "Don't be so surprised. Who do you think has been assigning us all these missions?"
Harry shrugged his shoulders. After bidding a farewell to Madam Rosmerta, they exited the Three Broomsticks and headed out onto the streets. It was quiet, peaceful in contrast to the raucous meeting they had just emerged from.
"What say we go get a bite to eat while we wait?" Ron asked. "Leaky Cauldron sound good?"
Harry was about to respond, when a voice called out to them from behind. They turned and saw a short, balding man leave the Three Broomsticks and walk up to them. He was dressed in tattered robes, and from the stench radiating from the man; it had been quite a while since he had last bathed.
"What do you want, Pettigrew?" Ron asked curtly.
Neither of them much liked Peter Pettigrew. He was the kind of person who just as quick to boast about battles as he was to run away from them. He bragged a lot, drank more, and generally acted like a complete ass whenever he got the chance, which was quite often. Dumbledore seemed to trust Pettigrew enough to permit him entrance into the Order, and that was the only reason why Harry and Ron reluctantly tolerated his presence.
"Well, hick, I think I had a little bit too much to drink and, hick, I was wondering if either of you chaps would, hick, mind helping me home?" He said this with a wide, drunken grin plastered on his grimy face.
"Sorry, Peter. Places to go," Ron said, "people to see, girls to meet, and- Oh God! Peter! Disgusting!"
Peter had just vomited all over Ron, covering the red head's robes with some vile liquid. He collapsed against Ron, sobbing apologies, and trying to wipe his vomit off him, smearing it and making things worse.
"Get off me!" Ron yelled, trying to pry Peter off him.
"Why don't you escort Peter home." Suggested Harry. "I'll meet you at the Leaky Cauldron, alright?"
"Yeah, sure thing, Harry." Ron said, rolling his eyes as he dragged Peter's semi conscious form down the street. "Jesus, Peter, could you possibly weigh -Bollocks! You just threw up on me again!"
Harry shook his head and stalked off in the opposite direction.
--
Two hours had past since Harry left Ron with Pettigrew, and he had never shown up at the Leaky Cauldron. He didn't worry about it too much, though. Peter had probably forced Ron to stay and nurse him back to health while he continued to wallow in his own self-degredation. It wouldn't be the first time anyway. Figuring he would just meet Ron back at the Three Broomsticks, Harry paid his bill and went back out on the streets.
The night air was cold with a bit of a frigid nip to it as a cool wind whipped at the bottom of Harry's robes. It was a decent walk back to the Three Broomsticks, but Harry did not mind. Their really was no alternative mode of transportation these days with a ban on appapration being enforced all throughout the city, and brooms and portkeys to much of a hassle to risk. He'd grown up traversing the steep cliffs of mountains and the rugged terrain of rocky hills. The smooth cobblestone of London was luxurious in comparison.
He glanced up at a signpost lit dimly by the light of a street lantern. It read Ravenclaw Road. That put him less than three kilometers from the tavern. A casual stroll would put him there in less than twenty minutes. He was in no rush.
Before Harry could take another step, however, something in the darkness caught his eye. A quick movement blurred past over the rooftops, but then disappeared before Harry could get a better look. He blinked. Again, the shadowy figure appeared for only a brief moment as it leaped from rooftop to rooftop without difficulty, and again it vanished before Harry could identify it.
Just a cat he thought with a dismissive shrug. He took one more step, and then turned, flinging aside his cloak and pulling his wand. It'd have to be one hell of a cat he decided.
"Where I come from," Harry yelled into the night, "We don't hide from our enemies like cowardly dogs! Show yourself!"
A deep voice answered his challenge. "Be careful what you wish for, Potter."
--
Hermione was now officially lost. Not only was London less pleasant than the countryside, but it was also a literal labyrinth of twisting stone corridors, unwilling to be navigated by someone like her. Leaving mansion without an escort might not have been smart. Leaving without a map perhaps even less. But leaving and wandering aimlessly about without any clue how to return made her question how exactly she'd graduated from the top of her class.
Stupid she scolded herself. What time it was she could not begin to guess. She'd been wandering for hours now, and hunger and weariness wracked her body. She couldn't even summon the energy to conjure something to assist her.
She turned the corner and headed down another street that looked familiar. A quick glance told her it was called Ravenclaw Road. Not familiar after all. She sighed dejectedly and was about to return the way she came when a loud voice echoed nearby. Her heart leaped. Someone was awake and might be able to help her.
--
Harry's assailant leaped down from the rooftop and landed in a puddle of water. He was garbed in black robes like Harry, and a white mask disguised his face. From beneath his robes he produced not a wand, but a pair of metal objects that looked like short swords. One in each hand, he twirled them, leering through the slits in his mask.
"Hair the color of night and a scar the shape of a lightening bolt." The assassin said. "You must be The
Slayer that Fudge is so afraid of."
"And you are?"
"You will soon be dead. My name is unimportant." The masked man moved forward, whirling his blades in front of him like a protective shield as he charged towards Harry.
Harry had heard of wizards like this. Men who had exchanged their wands for weapons made of iron and steel, based on the muggle designs of old. They relied on close quarter combat to overwhelm opponents reliant on magic, and then utilizing their expertise to get in close enough for a quick kill. Harry himself was trained with muggle weapons like knives in case of an emergency, but the man he fought now was clearly an expert with his chosen tool.
Harry ran forward to meet his attacker, but before their weapons clashed the assailant took one of the short swords and hurled it at Harry. With lightening fast reflexes born of countless encounters, Harry ducked out of the way just in time as the sword flashed overhead. Undaunted, the attacker continued his assault, his lone sword held before him.
"Solidifisus!" Harry bellowed, and instantly his wand solidified into a material the consistency of the weapons his attacker weld. Their weapons met in a hail of sparks, and for a moment their eyes locked as each combatant fought to overpower the other.
"You're good." The masked man whispered through gritted teeth. "Better than I expected!"
Harry didn't reply, focusing all his energy on knocking aside the man's sword so he could quickly counterattack and end this confrontation. Their weapons grounded against each other until finally Harry managed to push the man's sword toward the ground. Without hesitation, he lashed out with his elbow, shattering the man's mask.
The assassin howled in pain and retreated, one hand keeping Harry at bay with tactical swings of his sword, and the other ripping off his mask. He flung it to the ground, and his face, a grotesque mask of blood and gore, was finally revealed. Harry was not surprised he didn't recognize the man. He was obviously an expert assassin Fudge had imported to hunt him.
"I'll kill you!" The man roared.
"Come!" Harry countered, holding his wand at the ready.
The fighters met once again, slashing, parrying, countering, locked in a sort of deadly dance of flashing blades and flying sparks. They waltzed in the rain, experts at their own style, dancing to the music of death.
Harry lunged at the man's face, but before the spell could connect, the assailant blocked it with his short sword. The man retaliated swiftly and brutally, and Harry had to move quickly to defend himself. The force of the blows were amazing, enough to send vibrations up his wand and through his arms, momentarily paralyzing him.
The assailant took advantage of Harry's handicap and attacked with a wordless cry. Harry responded equally, raising his wand, preparing to strike. Their weapons struck together with enough force to shake the Earth, knocking both opponents' weapons out of their hands. The assassin's sword and Harry's wand flew into the darkness, out of sight.
"It seems we're at a stale mate." Harry said.
The man grinned wickedly. "Not for me it isn't!" He spread out his palm into the open air. Accio swords!"
Harry inhaled sharply as the man's swords soared towards his waiting hands. The assassin could use wandless magic! Even something as rudimentary as a summoning charm without the aid of a wand was an arduous challenge and displayed exceptional skill and power.
"Prepare to die, Slayer!" The man yelled as he ran towards Harry, his swords held high.
Author's Notes
And that's the end of chapter six. Sorry it took so long to finish, but quite a bit of the chapter had to be re-written and I'm still not entirely satisfied with it. But, it's been a while since my last upload so I'll put it up the way it is. Not much to say about this one, probably because I'm so tired right now, but I did have fun writing the fight scene. I toyed extensively with the idea of using regular weapons to further implement old school Japanese swordplay into the magical world. I always wondered how wizard duels were carried out. They all seemed rather brief and unexciting, so I pretty much make them into the equivalent of dramatic sword fights. That was cool.
Oh, and just saw Blade Trinity. That movie was pretty cool. Not much room to put vampires in right now though. Too bad.
Thanks for the reads and reviews folks! Keep them coming!