The remainder of Harry's time at the Burrow went by in a short blur, and in no time Moody was calling for him to leave. "It's nearly five o'clock," Moody warned repeatedly, much to Mrs. Weasley's displeasure.
"Let him stay as long as he wants," she said.
"I don't travel during or after dusk," growled Moody. "Doing that nowadays can get you killed."
"It's his birthday, Alastor."
"And I'm trying to make sure he lives to see another one."
"You know as well as I that Harry's home is always being watched. Don't you think you're being a bit...excessive?"
Moody simply stared at her with both eyes. "No."
"Well-"
"No, it's all right Mrs. Weasley," interrupted Harry. "Moody's right. I really shouldn't risk being out too late." The ex-Auror cast him an appreciative glance.
In truth, Harry strongly doubted that Moody's worries were warranted. Death Eaters were unlikely to be able to set up ambushes around a house that was both protected by magical charms as well as the Order. But, because he was feeling increasingly uncomfortable from Mrs. Weasley's arguing on his behalf, he took the initiative and sided with the ex-Auror since Moody showed no signs of backing down. Additionally, he was hoping he would be able glean some information from Moody about the Order: something that he didn't have time to do with Dumbledore.
And besides, wasn't it his decision to make to begin with?
"Well, if you're sure Harry...you're more than welcome..."
As the time to leave drew nearer, Harry made his way around the room, saying goodbye to each of the guests and thanking them for coming. To Hermione and then Ron, who were now on opposite sides of the room again, he promised he'd come back to the Burrow as soon as he could.
"I don't want to spend my whole summer there," Harry said.
"Just send us the word mate," Ron said. "And we'll come to pick you up."
"It's five o'clock, Potter," Moody told Harry, sweeping up next to him. "We should've left ten seconds ago."
"Alright, I know," said Harry, and he eased his way through the room in search of Mrs. Weasley with Moody behind him.
Finding her, he said, "Thanks for the party, Mrs. Weasley. Ron told me how much effort you all put into it, and, well-" He reddened, though he wasn't immediately sure why. "-it was my first birthday party."
"It wasn't any trouble at all dear," she replied, her eyes slightly wet. She wiped them. "I know how your relatives treat you. If it was up to me- well, it's not up to me. You'll always be a part of our home, Harry." She took his shoulders and hugged him strongly, and while he was no longer eleven years old, it still had the same chest-crunching effect it had on him when he was younger. At last she released. "Take care of yourself."
For an instant, Harry thought of staying for a bit longer. While a few of the guests were - upon hearing of Harry's plans to leave - preparing to depart, he still wanted to stay among them. All of them - in one way or another - were his friends, and they were the closest thing to a family he had.
When he saw Hermione nearby, he went up to her. "It's five o'clock," he said.
"I know," she said. "You're leaving?"
"Yeah," he said, but, again, he felt a twinge of regret.
"Was everything-?"
"It was perfect."
Without warning, she wrapped him into an embrace, and gave him a chaste kiss. "Don't forget to write."
"What's wrong with using the mirror?" he asked, puzzled.
"It's not the same. The mirror is too cloudy. Besides, letters are much better because you can read them over again."
"Oh…right."
"Ready, Potter?" asked Moody from behind him. He was holding a white quill in his right hand, which Harry guessed to be a portkey. "Five minutes past."
"Alright," Harry said, then, to Hermione, "I'll write soon."
He quickly picked up his gifts, which had been gathered into a large bag nearby. Lying on top was the yet-unopened wooden box. He made a mental note to open that when he returned.
She smiled. "Goodbye."
He mirrored her, then touched the tip of Moody's quill. Immediately, he felt a sensation behind his navel and the world disappeared in a swirl of white.
OOO
A second later and Harry felt his feet hit the whitewashed wooden porch of his relatives' home. He leaned against the wall for a moment, steadying himself after the disorienting experience of instantaneous travel, and stared out across the emerald green lawn. The sun was still well above the horizon, its heat oppressive, its light making Harry turn away. He looked towards Moody, who was opening the front door's locks.
"Why didn't we just teleport inside the house?" Harry asked.
"Only Dumbledore has access to apparate or teleport into it," said Moody. "No one else is able to."
"Why? Aren't the blood wards impossible to break?"
"Yes," Moody growled. "And that's why we have them. You-Know-Who would never expect us to have anti-apparation and anti-portkey charms behind an impenetrable blood ward, would he?" He paused suddenly and turned, his magical eye swiveling in its socket. "Do you smell something Potter?"
He sniffed the air. "Yeah, I can smell smoke." While the residents of Little Whinging tended to burn leaves in the fall, and build fires in their chimneys during the long winter, there was no reason for there to be either of those to be taking place in the middle of summer.
Moody drew his wand and swung open the front door. "Let's get inside."
Harry went in and Moody followed, closing the door behind them. The ex-Auror looked up and around, apparently gazing into each and every one of the rooms. Taking the cue, Harry drew his own wand.
"We should be safe now," said Moody, still staring through the walls. He looked rigid, intent. Searching for an enemy but not finding one. "No one could've crossed the threshold."
"The threshold?"
"The doorway," Moody said. "Your mother's protection ensures that no one who wants you dead can enter this home. No one can go through the front door." He limped into the living room, his eye still sweeping the area.
Harry, setting his bag of gifts near a wall in the family room, went to a window and looked outside, seeing nothing. "What's going on? What're you looking for?"
"Something's wrong," Moody growled. "All I know is that something's wrong. I need to find Samson. He should be out there, across the street in an invisibility cloak. He's the one that's on duty." He stalked over to the window and gazed out. "Damn, that's out of my eye's range." Harry supposed he meant his magical eye.
Harry waited, unsure of how seriously to take Moody's sudden attack of paranoia. He didn't understand how the ex-Auror could translate a hint of smoke in the air into a Death Eater strike. But then again, Moody was considered one of the Order's best fighters, and not without good reason.
"I'm going to go out there and find Samson," said Moody at last. "This could be nothing, but I don't think so. Regardless, I want you to stay in here. Remus mentioned to me at the party that you had some sort of mirror that you could use to contact someone, is that right?"
Harry nodded.
"Then you watch me from the house. If you see signs of trouble, use the mirror and get help."
"You mean I'm going to sit here and watch?" Harry asked, somewhat irritated.
"Better one of us get hit than both of us," Moody said. "Then the other will be able to get reinforcements."
"Why don't we just get help right now?"
"We're stretched thin as it is, Potter. We can't afford to pull Order members from the posts because of a suspicion. Now I'm going to give you a password, and don't anyone inside without them giving you that password. Not even me."
"So what's the password?"
"Janus," growled Moody. "Now watch me."
Moody glanced through the window once more and went to the door, going through it and limping down the porch stairs. His wand was poised by his side, and while his head never turned, Harry knew that Moody's magical eye was going in every direction. While the presence of a man with a wand and a wooden leg limping down Privet Drive would undoubtedly attract the attention of muggles, Harry doubted that secrecy was a very high priority in the ex-Auror's mind.
Harry went back to the window and watched as Moody stepped onto the lawn across the street, paused, then crossed to the house's side. He seemed vaguely surprised, and as he approached the backyard he slowly lowered his wand and picked up speed. He stopped again for a full minute, physically turning around as if checking for Death Eaters, then pocketed his wand and continued out of sight behind the house.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. If Moody had holstered his wand, then it was unlikely that there was any trouble.
Several minutes passed with Harry staring out the window, awaiting Moody's reappearance. Finally a figure emerged from behind the house, though it was not Moody. There was no mistaking the man's olive-green vest, white slacks and long-sleeved shirt for Moody's dull gray robe, and Harry unconsciously drew his wand as the figured strolled across the street and - avoiding the lawn - into the driveway before climbing the sidewalk to the porch. His polished shoes shone in the light.
Who would wear slacks in the middle of summer?
Harry switched to another window to get a better look at the stranger. The clothes of the man betrayed a muggle background, though there was something else about him that made Harry believe that there was more to it than that. The way he carelessly strode up onto the porch, for example, and the way his head never moved left nor right as he walked. Absolute self-assurance.
Finally, three knocks came from the door. "Mr. Potter?"
Harry stood there, unsure of what to do. Moody had not yet reappeared, and he did not recognize the man as being part of the Order.
"Who is it?" Harry answered, though he made no move to open the door. It was rather pointless, he decided, considering that if the man wished to get inside he could do so whether the door was open or not.
"Hiroshi," said the man. A pause. "I'm from the Order."
"And the password?"
"Oh, of course. It's Janus."
Tentatively, Harry unlatched the door and opened it, then stepped back. The man - Hiroshi - was older than Harry had initially guessed. He was perhaps fifty or sixty years in muggle age, with a carefully trimmed beard and a sword on his side that Harry had not originally seen. The eyes, however, were what caught his attention the most. They seemed hard somehow, reflecting light rather than absorbing it. Like they were made of glass.
"Ah, Mr. Potter, it's a pleasure to meet you," Hiroshi said, stepping through the door.
Harry felt simultaneous relief and apprehension. He remembered Moody's words: Your mother's protection ensures that no one who wants you dead can enter this home. No one can go through the front door. But still, something about the man's eyes bothered him. He felt that he should know this man, that he had seen his face before.
"Errr, good to meet you too," Harry said, and extended his hand.
OOO
There was a charge in Harry's handshake, like a shock of electricity, and when Katashi released his hand he could still feel a faint tingle in his fingertips.
He was more than a little distracted. There was something unusual in Harry. At first Katashi attributed the feeling to the various wards that surrounded the home, and then to the large infusion of enchanted blood that he recently put into his system. But when he shook Harry's hand, he instantly knew the origin of what he was sensing. The boy - no, the man - was brimming with power, and for a moment this fact both surprised and daunted him.
Part of him wished to kill Harry right now and finish the mission, but the other part wanted to wait.
There's no rush, he told himself. No reason why he must be skewered this moment.
Harry spoke again. "Where's Moody? Did he send you over there?"
"Yes," said Katashi. "He's returned to the rest of the Order." He had learned of the Order of the Phoenix from Riddle, who had told him that it was a society formed and maintained by Albus Dumbledore. While Riddle knew little more than the name, that information still proved useful. "May I sit down? My joints need a rest. I just need a few minutes away from that heat."
"Oh, sure," Harry said, and guided him to the family room. "So what was wrong?"
"Wrong? Oh, nothing," he said. "It was nothing."
Katashi skimmed through Harry's mind - without eye contact - trying to discover what he was thinking. Harry believed him to be from the Order, that much was true, but he did not trust him. Katashi was surprised to meet a small measure of resistance when he tried to probe deeper into his mind, quite strong for one so young. Rather than overriding the barrier, he let it go for fear that Harry might detect the intrusion. While it did not matter in the long term, Katashi still wanted to learn more about Harry before throwing him into the afterlife. He wanted to further investigate this strange power that emanated from the young wizard.
They entered the family room, and Katashi took a seat on deep, cushy sofa that he had sat on earlier. He closed his eyes and stretched his joints, the pain feeling strong and delicious. He considered himself to be the type of man who could appreciate style and taste, but, looking around the room, he found nothing appealing. It was far too modern, with its oversized television set and a far-too-gaudy coffee table. The glass case of vases were a nice touch, and gave a feel of authenticity, but did little to improve the room's overall effect. He decided he was far too used to the warm wood-paneled walls of mansions, with hanging tapestries and marble busts.
Why are you toying with him uncle? asked a sweet, familiar voice that made Katashi want to do nothing more than storm out of the room instantly. It was his young nephew, Julius.
I have no time for you, Katashi thought, opening his eyes. The transparent figure of his nephew Julius was standing in the middle of the room, and Harry, oblivious, strode right through him.
"I've never seen you before," said Harry, sitting down as well. "How long have you been in the Order?"
"Many years," Katashi lied. "Though not in any fields that would attract any degree of attention." He paused, wondering how to proceed. "My contribution, however, in negligible. I can't imagine how you live with one such as Tom Riddle seeking to take you to your end."
Julius' elfin face brightened into a smile. Oh, uncle, how ironic you are.
How Katashi detested that face.
Harry stared up at Katashi, as though seeing him in another light. "You said Voldemort's name."
"I am too old to fear a name," said Katashi, meaning it. "So how do you do it? How do you evade the greatest Dark Wizard of your time?"
Or you're too terrified to admit your fear, Julius said.
Shut up.
"Honestly, I only managed to survive because of luck."
Katashi shook his head sharply. "There's no such thing as luck." He turned towards Harry, gazing at him, feeling the power radiating off of him like heat.
Such power and he attributes his successes to luck! Katashi thought furiously. It was times like these that made him want to stand up and scream. Do you know what your future can hold? Do you know of what you can potentially achieve? Too many times he had seen brilliant people - people who could one day obtain the hallowed title of human - fail or give up in their quest. He wanted to take such people and shriek, "What are you doing!"
But regardless, Katashi knew that he would have to end this young life today. He regretted it, and would receive no pleasure in the kill, but it had to be done. If Harry's death was necessary to his own personal plan, then so be it. He would sever the wizard's path in an instant.
The path to your dream is made with corpses, uncle, Julius said, floating towards Harry. You'll use their blood to grease the cogs of your plan and their hair to fasten your-
Enough of the sensational metaphors, Katashi thought angrily.
And you feel you're doing the world a service, Julius said with wide, gleeful eyes. Yes, you've convinced yourself, haven't you? We both know what this is all really about. Vengeance. And for you the price is never too high.
"If it's not luck, then I don't know what to call it," said Harry. "I don't know how I survived all those times. I don't plan anything, it just...happens."
"Then you're resourceful," Katashi said. "And that's a rare trait. I understand that you're an exceptional dueler as well." Riddle had already warned him of Harry's past exploits, as well as most of his history. And, of course, the prophecy, which, more than anything else at the moment, was on Katashi's mind the most.
After all, the prophecy was the only reason Riddle had contacted him. Voldemort was afraid, and, sitting there, Katashi understood why. Harry Potter, while undisciplined, was not a weakling in regards to power. Riddle, having no desire to physically confront his opponent, summoned an old acquaintance. While those trapped in a thread of prophecy were like flies caught in a web, the Seers were like the spiders, able to act freely. The power of True Sight prevented any such restriction on them.
Hence, if Katashi wished to kill Harry, he could do it and effectively sever the prophecy. It was for this reason that Riddle had summoned him.
But you have your own plans, don't you uncle?
Harry shrugged. "Maybe I am. But I need to get out of here. I feel like I'm wasting time by sitting in this house. The books can't help if I can't practice, and I can forget about practicing magic in my relatives' house."
"Ah, they don't know about magic?"
"No, they just hate it. Plus this isn't exactly the best place to be trying out some of the stronger spells." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "What sort of curses do you prefer to use in a duel? Any books you could recommend?"
"I usually don't involve myself with that sort of magic," said Katashi vaguely.
"What do you mean?"
Katashi didn't answer immediately. "I specialize in other fields other than spell casting. A wand is useless to me."
"Useless?"
""I can't perform wand magic," he admitted.
"You mean you're a squib?"
Katashi felt a burning in his bowels. "No, I just can't use a wand."
"Oh," said Harry, looking a little confused. "Right."
"Tell me," said Katashi after a moment, beginning one of the questions he had wanted to ask since the start of the conversation. "Do you feel that you can defeat Voldemort?"
Harry turned to look at him, whether at surprise at the question or something else he could not tell.
Maybe he had never thought of it before, said Julius. What do you think, uncle? Do you think he could beat You-Know-Who?
Perhaps, but I doubt it. If he were to duel with Riddle at this very moment, I think he would lose. And don't say "You-Know-Who." That's a ridiculous name, fit for comic book villains.
You keep forgetting who I am, uncle.
"I think so," Harry said. "But then, I can't really know, can I?"
Katashi frowned, unimpressed with the response. The business with the prophecy was beginning to irritate him, and he was beginning to think of the ways he could end this young wizard's life and fulfill his deal with Riddle.
There were several ways in which he could kill Harry within the next hour, most of them involving a sword jutting into his body, and if Katashi stuck rigidly to one of those paths, he could succeed. But in reality, there were too many variables. He could start the fight a fraction of a second too early, or move just a little bit too slowly, or do something in a way that deviated just slightly from the path, but was enough to derail everything. His Sight gave him the ability to See what would happen in certain scenarios, not the ability to fulfill them. His Sight warned him that if he did not kill Harry quickly enough, another wizard would join the fight and he would be stopped. Katashi would have preferred better odds, with more paths to Harry's death, but still, what he Saw ahead gave him a fair chance.
But there was still time enough for that.
Julius hovered closer to Katashi, his pale body suspended in the air like a frozen wisp of smoke. Stop toying with him. You've existed for two millennia and still can't come up with a better way to amuse yourself?
I'm curious. That's all.
You're not curious. You're bored.
Red flooded Katashi's cheeks and, had it not been for a last minute reflex, he would have spoken out loud. Are you suggesting that I enjoy this?
Why else would you take so long? Do you like seeing the look of betrayal in their eyes after you've earned their trust? Isn't cutting through their vertebrae, disemboweling them, and then draining the memories from their minds enough anymore? Perhaps you would like to rape their corpse afterwards as well-
Shut up you fiend! Katashi glanced towards the imaginary figure before catching himself and turning away. You'll never understand. You can't understand.
"Is something wrong?" Harry asked.
Katashi, realizing that he must have been lost in his thoughts for several minutes now, shook his head. "Nothing. Just thinking, that's all." He made a swift change of subject. "Today's your coming of age, is it not? Congratulations."
"Thanks."
He caught a glimmer of something behind Harry's eyes that made him pause, and for a moment he wondered what memories he had inadvertently triggered. Harry was thinking of something, Katashi decided. Something important.
Once again, Katashi skimmed Harry's mind, and, like last time, he met with resistance. He prodded further as he spoke.
"It's been too many years since I was that age," he said. Faintly, he could hear Julius' childish laugh.
"Do you mind if I ask what you did before you joined the Order?"
"Not at all," Katashi said. The distraction of dialogue was allowing him to probe deeper into Harry's mind with fewer barriers. "I used to travel, doing a variety of jobs for galleons."
At last he hit the core of something. There was vague reference to a sphere. He searched.
"So how'd you end up getting involved with the Order?"
Katashi paused suddenly, realizing that he was being lightly interrogated. Carefully he reevaluated the young wizard across from him. What was making him suspicious? Was he skilled enough to detect the mental intrusions? Katashi was tempted to use the Sight to run a few scenarios, but decided against it. He needed to answer soon.
"I came to England during Voldemort's first coming," he lied. "I needed work. What I ended up finding was a cause, something that I never had before."
This seemed to satisfy Harry, and - more delicately - Katashi resumed his probing.
"Did you know my parents?"
"No, I'm afraid I never had that honor," Katashi said.
At last, he had success. This wizard is going to inherit Tenbrook's Sphere? At such a young age?
You want another instrument in your arsenal? Julius said. Or is it for You-Know-Who? Or haven't you decided?
It would curry Riddle's favor, certainly.
Julius frowned. You should disentangle yourself from that serpent right now, uncle. You think yourself too clever to be killed by Him, but he is stronger than you dare suspect. You are blinded by your own motivations.
I need to be close to Riddle for any of this to work, Katashi thought. That's the reason I'm here. That's why I must kill this wizard in front of me.
He's going to kill you. You can't fool him for long. Eventually he'll drag it out of you and then you'll be dead. And I won't cry for you, uncle.
"That's strange, as both of them were in the Order as well," Harry said, referring to his parents.
Katashi stared into Harry's eyes, trying to read what was behind them. There was too much resistance for him to sneak in without detection. "I never was able to work with them."
Harry's eyes closed and Katashi felt his back stiffen. There was something he missed here, he realized. Something wrong. What had he given away? Surely his response was adequate.
Unless Potter had some way of knowing all the Order members from back then.
You're caught in your lies now, Julius said in an innocent voice. He knows, he knows.
"Who are you?" Harry asked. The question was simple, unavoidable.
Katashi glanced quickly through True Sight, confirming what he already knew. Harry knew he wasn't from the Order and there was no way to convince him otherwise. The lying was over.
And you were just beginning to enjoy yourself, Julius said. To think that you were outsmarted by a wizard not even a fraction of your true age.
I shouldn't have tried to juggle Legilimency and conversation. That was foolish of me. I was bound to slip up.
Slowly, Katashi got to his feet, his hand drifting to his sword hilt. "My real name is Nori Katashi. Do you know it?"
"You're dead," Harry said, his eyes suddenly wide. "You were killed!" He drew his wand.
UP! Katashi forced the thought out of his mind and into the chair that Harry was sitting on, and, obediently, the chair followed the nonverbal command. It flipped into the air, and its occupant barely had time to push himself away before it crashed to the floor.
Harry scrambled for his wand and ducked backwards as Katashi advanced upon him with a drawn sword.
Katashi grinned inwardly. None of them ever expected telekinesis. He focused on a glass lamp that sat on the end table. FLY!
The lamp shot through the air, but Harry, who had gathered his bearings, poised his wand and shouted, "Reducto!" It blew apart into dust. "How the hell did you get in here?"
Katashi just smiled. He looked at the overturned chair. STRIKE HIM!
Harry dived sideways to avoid the hurtling object, but was not fast enough and was given a glancing blow. He crashed to the ground.
Katashi calmly stepped around the fallen furniture and, seeing that his adversary was vulnerable, lunged with his sword.
Harry, still on the ground, pushed himself backwards just as the sword slashed into the place he was laying a moment ago. Trying and not completely succeeding in dodging another sword stroke, he struggled to his feet, just barely aware that his jeans were split open from where the tip of Katashi's blade met flesh.
Free to move, Harry whirled onto his opponent and incanted, "Infligo!"
Katashi, who was expecting a lesser Stunning Spell, tried to sidestep the growing cone of light that shot from Harry's wand. Instead he was struck in shoulder and thrown backwards, colliding with the chair. His aging body and back screamed pain.
Through the splitting agony, Katashi spotted a massive entertainment center, and, set in the center, a widescreen television fit for a movie theater. Harry was close to it, raising his wand for a second curse. Straining to concentrate, he forced the command, HIT HIM!
The television wobbled from its position and then, clumsily, flew at its target, though its path went awry and it ended up crashing down at Harry's feet, startling him.
It was all the time Katashi needed. UP! he commanded, and the scattered fragments of the bashed television shot skywards, enveloping Harry in a whirlwind of shattered glass and plastic as the pieces made their way to the ceiling, crashed, then fell back down again.
His joints defying his every movement with a shock of pain, Katashi began pulling himself to his feet with the help of the overturned chair. With another effort he commanded the entire entertainment center to hurl itself to the center of the room, allowing himself more time to recover without the threat of Harry's curses.
Damn this worthless body!
"Stupefy!" Harry, his arms and clothes cut from the glass in the television, had already made his way around the massive entertainment center and began a volley of curses. "Stupefy! Stupefy!"
Katashi ducked into kitchen, hearing each of the curses smashing into the walls, burying themselves into the plaster. Powerful, but inaccurate.
He quickly scanned the new room and made a mental note of the carving knives in a glass cabinet. Spotting a door on the far end, he ordered, COME!
The brass hinges snapped like twigs and swiftly he guided it to slam into the wizard behind him.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry shouted, and, when the door stopped, he followed with, "Waddiwasi!" Instantly it reversed direction and swung wildly into the wall, breaking into two.
Quickly Katashi looked to the knives in the glass cabinet, but before he could summon them, he was hit in the back by a silent Infligo. He was thrown forwards and fell heavily on his right arm, his sword skidding out of reach. Stabs of pain ran up and down his forearm.
"Who the bloody hell are you?" Harry spat. "And how did you get in here?"
Katashi looked at his arm and saw that it was bent at an odd angle. Broken.
Damn!
"'Zir?" called someone from the front. "Is everyzing all right in 'zere?"
Katashi recognized Pierre's voice instantly, though he knew that the Frenchman could not come in due to the wards. He looked up and saw that, instinctively, Harry had turned away for a few seconds from the surprise of hearing a new voice.
Grabbing his sword, he turned and focused on Harry's wand, hoping that the grip was loose enough to allow it to be summoned. COME!
At the same moment, Harry's attention returned to Katashi and, as the wand began to slip from his fingers, he tightened his grip.
"The Order will sort you out," said Harry. "Stup-"
He was cut off by a jet of green that sliced through the plaster walls and between the two of them, missing his face by inches before crashing into the metal sink. Katashi began to crawl to his feet and Harry ducked for cover.
Pierre's muffled voice called again, "Avada Kedavra!"
Another, brighter flash of green streaked past, this time burning out in the bottom row of cabinets.
Katashi spotted Harry ducking near the refrigerator, avoiding the Killing Curses that were zooming over their heads.
"Infligo!" Harry incanted, and Katashi struggled to avoid the cone, managing to get behind the oven that had been pushed far out of place due to the force of one of the curses.
Having a burst of inspiration, Katashi stared up at the ceiling above Harry, still safely under cover, and with as much concentration as his aching body would allow he commanded, DOWN!
At first, nothing happened, and another one of Pierre's Killing Curses blindly struck the refrigerator Harry was using as cover, almost knocking it over. Then, the ceiling began to creak, and though he could barely hear it over Pierre's shouts and the bursting of curses, the supporting boards within it began to snap.
The ceiling bulged, then, more rapidly, it began to cave, with loose bits of plaster falling, then larger chunks. Harry, realizing what was happening, took one swift glance upwards then sprinted across the kitchen as the entire second floor began to fall in from above.
FLY! Katashi summoned the couch from the next room and threw it into the archway, blocking Harry from escaping.
"Reducto!" Harry shouted, but while the couch broke into pieces, Katashi ordered another chunk of wall to fill the gap.
Harry looked desperately around as more of the ceiling fell.
Katashi, realizing his own life was in danger, crawled out from his spot behind the oven and pushed any fallen debris out of his way with his gift of Telekinesis.
"Accio vest!" Harry bellowed, and it took a moment for Katashi to register the fact that it was his vest that was being summoned.
He grabbed at anything to hold on, but the charm was stronger, and he could not keep his grip. He was haplessly dragged towards Harry, and with some anger, he saw that a large chunk of ceiling crashed to the floor before him, effectively blocking the way.
Quickly he went for his sword in its scabbard, drawing it and turning to meet Harry head-on.
"Stupefy!" Harry said, but the moment he spoke the first syllable Katashi lunged and the spell went awry.
Harry stumbled backwards and Katashi, his balance lost from the pain in his legs, fell sideways. More of the ceiling fell and a large oaken bed crashed down between them. More, heavier pieces of plaster and wooden beams followed it, splitting the kitchen horizontally.
Katashi climbed to his feet, his head spinning, and tried to establish his bearings. The air was full of dust from pulverized plaster, and the ceiling split and cracked around the edges as more and more debris fell. He barely noticed a playstation fall and shatter at his feet, followed by a dresser further off. Little fires were building in corners from where Killing Curses had landed. Even the walls were buckling, and it dawned on him that the entire house was on the verge of collapse.
Suddenly, there was a loud crack like a gunshot, and Katashi recognized it instantly. Someone had apparated nearby.
"'Zir, we need to leave," he could hear Pierre shout. "'Ze muggle police are coming."
Damn, Katashi thought, gritting his teeth. He tasted blood. He looked around and, through the haze of smoke, he saw Albus Dumbledore standing next to Harry. Damn it!
OOO
Harry jumped back as Albus Dumbledore apparated in front of him, his half-moon glasses surveying his surroundings in a fraction of a second.
"Harry?" he asked quickly. "Are you all right?"
Harry nodded, feeling slightly choked by the dust.
The headmaster sounded relieved. "Where's Alastor?"
"Outside," said Harry, coughing. "He's outside."
"Death Eaters?"
"It's him, he came in-" He pointed where he last saw Katashi and made to go after him.
Dumbledore moved - unnecessarily, it seemed to Harry - in front of him, guiding the way with his wand, pushing his way through the debris when necessary. They caught sight of Katashi, who had just moved a large piece of debris from the archway. He looked back at him, a glassy stare, then replaced the blockade with a nod of his head, vanishing the instant they saw him. Dumbledore seemed frozen, as though he didn't quite believe what he saw.
Even more debris crashed downwards, pieces hitting him on the head and shoulders. He looked up and it seemed that even the attic was beginning to fall now.
A wooden stand from upstairs falling next to him broke Dumbledore from his reverie, and, swiftly, he drew a sock and tapped it twice with his wand. He held it out to Harry.
"More Order members are on their way," he said. "But I'm afraid your home won't stand that long, and it wouldn't be wise to chase after-" He searched for words. "-that man."
"He said he was Nori Katashi. But wasn't he killed by Gates?"
Dumbledore didn't reply, but looked around once more. "Quickly, we must go."
The next moment Harry grabbed hold of the sock, and, as he felt the familiar feeling behind his navel, he could not help but think: The Dursley's are going to have a surprise when they get back.
OOO
Katashi stepped through the doorway and onto the porch, which was starting to be stained gray from the ash and the smoke. He looked for Pierre, and when he found him, he wasn't in the least surprised to see a cigarette hanging from his mouth.
He licked his dry lips, then turned to stare into the firey home, almost expecting a tall figure, swathed in a midnight blue robe, to emerge from the obscuring smoke. Then he remembered the heavy piece of wall he had thrown into the corridor, and felt better.
"Is 'ze boy dead?" Pierre asked. He took a long, exhausting drag from the cigarette, his shoulders slumping and his face slick with sweat from the heat.
"He's not a boy," said Katashi. "And he's not dead." He heard sirens in the distance, and didn't need to use True Sight to know that they had little time to escape. "Do you have the portkey prepared?"
Pierre searched his pockets. "Of course."
Again, Katashi looked back into the collapsing building, wondering if Dumbledore and Harry were still in there. No, he decided. I trapped them thoroughly. They have no choice but to teleport out.
This brought him some comfort. Few times in his existence had he felt his mortality as keenly as he did then. It was close, closer than he had intended. Albus Dumbledore was not like other wizards, Katashi knew, and not one to be underestimated. He was a true human, and could die without the slightest regret, knowing he lived a full life.
And Katashi knew very well that he could've been killed by such a man.
People began gathering on the front lawn, gawking at the two strangers on the porch. Katashi ignored them, instead focusing on how he'd lost his fight with Harry.
While Julius wasn't there, he could still hear his childish voice. Your Sight warned you of Dumbledore's arrival yet you were not fast enough to kill Harry in time.
"No, that's wrong," said Katashi aloud, and Pierre looked at him with a puzzled expression. No, I shouldn't have engaged in conversation with the boy. I didn't use enough of the Sight. I should've been more careful. Next time I won't be direct. Next time I will kill from the back and it will be over.
"Ah, here it is," said Pierre, holding up a velvet cloth.
"Good, very good," said Katashi. "Next time, Pierre, we'll kill him. Next time." He looked down at his broken arm, frowning at how he had badly he had failed.
"What about the Auror? Should we go and get him?"
Katashi thought about this for a moment. The wizard he had captured had been stunned by Pierre after giving up the password, as he did not have time to deal with him properly. "No, we'll leave him. He's not important. There'll be wizards here soon." He reached for the cloth.
The Frenchman nodded, and, when Katashi's fingers touched the portkey, they both warped away as five Order members apparated onto the lawn.