A/N Disclosures in Chapter One. As always.
THE SPECIALISTS
Harry was staring at the ceiling. Captain Carrot was sitting beside Angua, who lay in the bed, sleeping miserably, but somewhat comforted after taking the draught of wolfsbane potion that Harry had made for her.
He was surprised it was so easy to get the materials in the dead of night, but he supposed that when Captain Carrot asked - politely - the closed apothecary to open and give him what he wanted, the healer had seemed very eager to oblige.
It was about 9 a.m. when I was at UU, Harry thought. And that was … about 2:30 a.m., so if it's now just after midnight, then it's … what, about 7 p.m.? I guess?
Harry flipped open the PDA. The imp glared at him. "Ya gotta a call," it said sulkily.
"From who?" Harry asked. "I never heard a bell ring."
"I don't give out rings, or play bells, nor none o' that other stuff. I glow yeller, got it," the imp said. "Anyway, it was yer bird, Hermione. She said to give her a ring."
"Okay," Harry said. "Do it."
The imp grunted and disappeared below the handset. After a second, Harry heard a familiar voice.
"Harry? Is that you?" Hermione said eagerly.
"Yep," he said. "How are you?"
"Fine," Hermione said. "I'm just finishing dinner. How about you?"
"I'm fine, I think it's one o'clock in the morning here," he said.
"Gosh! Why call so late?" Hermione asked.
"I've … been busy," he said. There was a brief pause.
Hermione knew from experience what it meant then an auror was out late at night, and got home and felt too tired to sleep.
"Are you all right?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Our partner Angua, who is also Carrot's girlfriend, got hit pretty bad, though. I helped as best I could, but I just kept looking at her and thinking it was you," Harry said.
"Oh Merlin, Harry, don't say that," Hermione said. "I … I'm not there to help you, I'm so sorry, but what can I do?"
"Nothing," said Harry flatly. "It's just one of those days."
There was another pause.
"Do you know that I love you more than anything in the universe?" Hermione asked.
Against his will, Harry smiled. "Yes," he said.
"Are you sure you know? That I love you? That I'd do anything to make your life easier?" she said.
"Just talking to you makes it easier," said Harry. "The imp said you called earlier, but this PDA doesn't ring, it glows, apparently, and I had it inside my pocket, so I never noticed."
"That's okay," Hermione said. "But yes, I did call earlier. I had spoken with Professor Rincewind at Hogwarts. He wanted to tell you that he hasn't yet been able to reproduce the thaumic trace they've found."
"Right," Harry said. That was what Stibbons said. They couldn't find the thaumic signature.
"Um, Hermione?"
"Yes?"
"What the heck does that mean anyway?" Harry asked.
"Well, Harry at Unseen University, they measure magic in thaums," Hermione's voice, as soothing and self assured as it had been at Hogwarts, washed over Harry. "It's sort of like measuring electricity in ohms or heat in BTUs. You remember, when we tried to tell Ron not to buy that new heater for Mr. Weasley because it would draw too much power?"
Harry snickered. It had taken very nearly burning down the Burrow for Molly Weasley to finally get her husband to agree to test his muggle devices out in the shed. "How could I forget?" he said. Now he really was smiling.
"Well, we knew it was dangerous and it wouldn't work properly because the heater was attempting to draw too many ohms from that rickety old extension cord," Hermione said. "Think of thaums the same way. The lumos spell, for instance, can be cast wordlessly and wandlessly, just by force of will. Nearly all wizards or witches - even those close to squibs - can achieve that. On Discworld, you would say that it requires very few thaums indeed. Now, in comparison, one of the Unforgivable curses …"
But Harry's mind was racing ahead - er, back - now, to a heated conversation he had with Bellatrix Lestrange, many years ago. 'You've got to mean them!' she had shouted about trying to use the Cruciatus Curse, that gloomy evening in the Department of Mysteries. He had learned that with a vengeance - that the Unforgivable Curses really required effort and strength to cast. He hadn't had the opportunity to discuss it again with Ms. Lestrange, owing to the fact that he had severed her vocal cords - and indeed, her entire head - with Godric Gryffindor's sword on the night he had finally killed Tom Riddle.
"Hello? You there?" Hermione asked.
"Sure am," Harry said. "So the more powerful the spell, the more thaums it draws, and I guess it follows that not each wizard or witch has the ability to generate the same amount of thaums, which explains why some of us are squibs, and some are as powerful as Albus Dumbledore."
"Yes, but there's more to it than that," Hermione said. "Each individual has a unique source of their own power that they put into a spell, so your thaums are inherently different from mine. This also explains why some wizards are drawn to certain wands, and others are not."
Harry's memory replayed a portion of his life at Ollivander's. 'The wand chooses the wizard,' the old shopkeeper had said.
"But if you have enough power, you can force a wand to still cast," Harry said, thinking about his own experience in fighting during the war. "The spell might not be as powerful as you want, but if you have the power, you can still push it out."
"Right, but it also would bear your imprint," Hermione said. "A thaumic signature is like a fingerprint. If you have the signature, you should be able to find out what wizard cast the spell."
"So the wizards … they don't know who's casting these spells?" Harry wondered aloud.
"That's what I guess, Harry," Hermione said. "You see, there are probably less than 200 wizards and witches on the whole of the Discworld, so they can find out everyone's unique thaumic signature pretty easily. There were more than 200 wizards when we were at Hogwarts. London alone probably has several thousand, and the whole of England tens of thousands. We couldn't keep track of all of them by thaumic trace."
"But the reason that they can't trace the thaumic signature is because it's not a Discworld wizard," said Harry. "It's a Death Eater."
Hermione felt a cold chill ripple through her body.
"But, Harry, it …" her voice trailed off.
"No, that's got to be it," Harry said. "It's the only piece of jigsaw that fits. For people who aren't supposed to know about earth, every person I meet seems to know about it. Plus, the Dark Mark is being used here. I've seen it; it's not just the tattoos. When they smashed the temple of Hyperopia, it was there, lingering, in the smoke. The reason that the wizards at Unseen University don't know this thaumic signature is because one of the Death Eaters that escaped us somehow found a way a here."
Hermione didn't say anything. There didn't seem to be anything to say.
"Thanks, sweetheart. I love you so much," Harry said. "You always help me to see things for what they are."
"You be careful," she said, her voice wavering.
"I will be," Harry said, suddenly sleepy. "I'm going to bed now - must be past 2 - but thanks again. I love you. I'll call soon."
"Harry - Harry! You don't do anything stupid, now! Harry! I love you!" Hermione shouted at the phone.
"I love you, too, babe. Good night," Harry said. He looked for an off button, and didn't find one. "Imp?"
The imp peered out.
"I - am finished at this time with my conversation," Harry said.
The imp nodded sleepily and the PDA stopped glowing.
Harry laid down. Death Eaters in Ankh-Morpork, he thought. Now we just have to figure out where they are and how to stop them.
…
The next afternoon saw a conference in Vimes' office with Captain Carrot, Lance-Corporals Angua and Littlebottom, and of course Harry, reporting to the Commander.
"Right," Vimes said, pulling a drag on a cigar. "So, what do we know so far? Carrot?"
"The assaults on temples continue, with Annoia being hit last night," Carrot said. "Pamphlets are now being distributed after each attack, and some have now surfaced at most of the city's markets. Each time, the Grave Gourmands torch the temple, and seem to create a skull mark after they do it. They must not have a spare mangonel, because when they hit Annoia they used barrels of torch oil that were rolled into place and then ignited."
"The Dark Mark," Harry said.
"What's that?" Vimes said.
"We call it the Dark Mark," Harry said. Vimes looked at him sharply and nodded curtly. "Right, just hold up on that for a moment, okay, Potter?"
Harry nodded.
"Next, I want to here from Cherie," the Commander said. "What have you learned?"
"Sir, Igor was definitely behind the thefts of fat, in my opinion," Littlebottom said. "The autopsy I performed with Igor definitely shows traces of Uberwald #2 high-grade tallow on him. I don't know what they were doing, exactly, though I'd be willing to bet he was working on the horses, first. Angua, Harry and I were close to hearing it before he got hit with the crossbow bolt."
"He said it wasn't necromancy," Angua said. She had recovered a good deal of strength in the night, and taken another draught of the wolfsbane potion in the morning. "He said it was more like a resurrection, though I don't know what he meant by that. I may go back and interview Susan again, just to see if she can get me any more details about what he may have been doing after he left her service.
"Colon and Nobby have been back to the slop shop. No ideas yet who did the shooting. The trail's been pretty covered."
"Has Visit said anything about an Omnian conspiracy?" Vimes asked Carrot.
"He said the pamphlets seem a bit weird," Carrot said. "Not blasphemy, as such, but it wasn't any tract he was familiar with."
"Okay," Vimes said. He looked at Harry. "The Dark Mark. Anything else?"
Harry hesitated. He knew that he needed to tell the Watch what he had realized last night, but wasn't quite sure how to say it.
"That's what we've seen before, the Dark Mark," Harry said. "I presume that's really why I'm here, because the wizards at Unseen University haven't been able to determine its thaumic signature, and …" His voice trailed off. This was where it was going to get tough.
"Well?" barked Vimes.
"Sir, permission to speak freely," Potter said.
Vimes looked at him sharply, and then at his Watchmen. "Granted."
"Exactly how many people know - really know - where I'm from?" Harry said.
"I don't know what you mean, Constable," Vimes said in a neutral voice.
Carrot looked puzzled again. "Aren't you from Lon-?" he asked.
Harry looked exasperated, but looked straight at Vimes. "The wizards all know where I'm from, sir. As do you. Sergeant Angua knows I'm not from the Counterweight Continent. I'm assuming her … special … abilities have helped her in that regard. Sergeant Littlebottom seems to know or suspect. A monk named Qu in the Cable Street Particulars apparently knows where I'm from. And last night, Ms. Susan Sto-Helit …" his voice trailed off. He wished he had spent some more time talking with Susan, he really wasn't sure what she was.
"Well, is there anyone else? I don't feel like I'm keeping up much of a pretense, here."
There was a short silence.
Vimes finally offered: "The Patrician certainly knows. I think that's it."
"So where are you really from, Harry?" asked Carrot, going straight to the heart of the matter.
Harry said nothing, but looked at Vimes. Finally the Commander took a deep drag on his cigar and then a breath.
"Right, you lot, what's being discussed now is absolutely considered a Patrician's Secret. If you don't wish to end up spending the rest of your life locked up with Leonard of Quirm, you'll forget everything you've heard as soon as you leave.
"Potter's from a city called London. That's the capital of a country called England, located in a parallel world to ours known as the Roundworld. I've been there, myself, on loan to their version of the Watch. It's … an entire world, accessed within the HEM building at Unseen University."
To Harry's surprise, everyone seemed to accept this with equanimity.
"So we can travel between both worlds?" Carrot asked.
"Yes, but it is imperative to the continued existence of both of our worlds that we do not," Vimes said sharply. "The wizard Rincewind is currently on Roundworld trying to balance the fact that Mr. Potter is here. Mr. Potter is, in fact, an extremely powerful wizard on his own world. He was principal in the capture and execution of a leader of group of renegade wizards. Who used this" - and here he showed the picture of the Grave Gourmand's tattoo - "as a badge of identification."
"We call it the Dark Mark," Harry began. Now his story was easy. "The people who wore it, in my world, are called Death Eaters. Death Eaters - Grave Gourmands - you see the resemblance. The Death Eaters or Grave Gourmands were the followers of an extraordinarily powerful wizard named Tom Marvolo Riddle. Riddle held a reign of terror over most of Europe - er, most of our country and our surrounding neighbor countries - for more than 50 years.
"So. The Dark Mark. I think that the reason the wizards don't know who is creating this image is because it's a wizard from my world. I don't know who it is yet, but there were several high-profile followers of Tom Riddle who escaped capture." Harry said.
"And now these tattoos are showing up here?" Littlebottom said. "Could he have escaped here?"
"No," Harry said. He hesitated, and then said the rest of it. "I killed Tom Riddle. Personally. It was him or me. Riddle killed my parents. My family. My friends. He recognized no authority other than himself. In the end, it was him or me. So it was him. Believe me when I tell you that what I went through … he is as dead as dead gets."
"Although I didn't have the pleasure of being there to observe personally, I heard the story from many personally who were involved with Mr. Potter," Vimes said.
"So it's not him," Carrot said. "But one of his followers? Another one of these Death Eater - or possibly a Grave Gourmand?"
"Um, maybe. Possibly. Which brings me back to my point earlier," Harry said. "Although my world is more advanced than yours in some ways, in some ways your study of magic is more advanced than ours. Wizards who use magic leave a distinctive thaumic trace. Apparently, there is some evidence that the magic that has been happening here is not of Discworld origin. I suspect that the reason is because one of the Death Eaters has found a way to the Disc, and so the wizards at Unseen University don't know his signature. As a result, they're looking for something they can't find."
"So what about the whole thing about knocking down temples?" Angua asked. "We've got, what, four attacks so far, and these pamphlets that they're scattering around? Do they follow some kind of Omnian religion?"
"To be honest, I really have no idea what an Omnian is," Harry said. "But I can tell you that although murder and arson are part of their method of operating, attacking temples is completely new. They never did anything like that before. And these pamphlet things, that was never their style. So I don't really have an answer for you. Maybe there are two different groups acting together, not just one."
"We'd better find the answers to some questions soon," said Vimes, in a voice which made each of the Watchmen stiffen their backs.
There was a brief silence. "Commander, didn't you say that there was a printing press stolen?" Harry asked.
"Yes, there was. Now I assume you are going to suggest that the stolen printing press and paper are obviously being used to print the pamphlets," Vimes said.
"Er, yes, I was," Harry squeaked.
"Yes, Potter, that seems likely," Vimes said.
Harry breathed. At least I'm not totally stupid.
"So, we need to find that too," Vimes said. "Too many problems … we'll have to specialize."
Several puffs of smoke made their way to the ceiling.
"We need to trace the fat and this Igorring, find the Lancre connection suggested by the mangonel, find the printing press and find out more about the pamphlets," Vimes began. "Also, we need to stop the attacks on the temples, and prod the wizards again on this thaumic signature."
His voice trailed off. The puffing didn't.
"Right, the temples, the printing press, pamphlets, and Omnians. Carrot, I want Visit on that, primarily, with you as backup. There's no one else who has as much credibility moving in and out of the temples as the two of you.
"Potter, you're the wizard here, you're on the thaumic problem.
"Angua, you and Littlebottom are leads on the fat team and Igorring. You know more about tracing it and the terrain."
Vimes blew a smoke ring. "Potter, I'm assigning Detritus to work with you primarily, since I've never yet found any magic that can blast a rock troll to pieces. I agree that your cover story wasn't that well crafted, not that we had a lot of time to do so. Detritus won't ask, so don't tell him where you're from. Keep going on living the cover you've established as best you can. I understand how Qu and Susan Sto-Helit can have seen through that. Once again, don't tell them anything unless they ask directly, and even then, use your judgment."
The room was silent as the meeting was coming to an end. The Watch - other than Harry - got to its feet. They looked down and he looked up.
"It just seems that we should be doing more, even though that's so much," Harry said.
"Yes, well, if we could, we would," Vimes said. "Any suggestions?"
Harry sighed. "I don't know. I just wish that I could ask Albus Dumbledore for advice." He stood up to join his colleagues in dismissal. As he did so, Vimes reached for his helmet and got up as well.
"Great idea, lad. I'll do it."