A/N: Here's the next chapter....thanks to all who reviewed previously, and so...enjoy. :)
Chapter XI: Desperation
The wedding had passed well, in Harry's opinion. Right before opening the Daily Prophet this morning, he thought he could expect that this would be one of the few unmarred memories of his life.
That, however, was not meant to be, because another murder had been perpetrated during the wedding two days previously, and the Daily Prophet had provided a detailed account of the unfortunate circumstances.
Just as Harry and Hermione were saying their vows of eternal love and devotion, it was a strange coincidence that someone had murdered a neighbour of the Weasley family, who lived only several houses up the street. The news arrived rather quickly the next day, and from the joy of the wedding, the entire village had been thrust into a somber, fearful mood. The Prophet proceeded to make mention of the murders that has already taken place this year, and the article even wondered whether there was a connection amongst all of them.
For the murdered man was a respected resident of the village; he was the one who mended wands and made them nearly as good as new. In the wake of the news of his death, Harry had instructed Hermione to remain in Grimmauld, despite her protest, and immediately had departed for the Burrow.
He arrived in haste, muttering a quick `hello' as he walked in, only to find a very distraught Mrs. Weasley, sobbing, while Mr. Weasley was trying, very ineffectively, to calm her down. She was speaking indistinctly through her tears, and no sense of her words could be made. What struck Harry, however, was how old and vulnerable Mrs. Weasley suddenly looked to him.
He met Mr. Weasley's eyes. There were indecision and bewilderment in them; a silent question, asking why? Then each looked away. Right at that moment, Ron appeared into the kitchen, looking quite distressed too.
"D'you realize how close that was?" he said to Harry by way of a greeting. "We could've been killed and not known it!" he continued, pacing around in agitation.
"I know, Ron," Harry answered just as tersely. "What could we do though?"
"I'll tell you what," said Ron; there was an expression of appalled determination in his voice. "We find those bastards, whatever it takes."
"And…how exactly do you propose we do that?" Harry questioned him further, completely at sea about how they were going to carry out this objective, even if he wanted to do it as much as Ron did.
"I have an idea. Wait here, while I go grab Malfoy, and then we can go on to the Ministry," Ron responded a bit more calmly.
He left for the upstairs rooms to find the silver-haired quarry.
Left alone with Ron's parents once more, Harry strangely found the task of making conversation incredibly awkward. A part of him felt as if he was intruding on something private - and truth be told, he was.
"Mr. Weasley," he said at length. "While Ron, Malfoy and I are gone…lock up everywhere, won't you?"
"We will, Harry, yes, we will," Mr. Weasley affirmed quietly, his attention still focused on his wife.
Two pairs of legs thudded down the stairs, and shortly, the other two characters appeared.
"Mum, Dad," Ron turned to his parents, "don't let anyone in, not until we return. Ginny, Luna and the kids are upstairs, and they should be safe there. I'll see you later," he added a bit less forcefully.
"Ron," Mrs. Weasley whispered, as se turned to her second youngest, "Harry, Draco…please, be careful."
"We will, Mum," replied Ron earnestly. "We'll be back by dinner, I promise. Come on now!"
The elder Weasleys watched as the door closed behind the three of them. Uttering a heavy sigh, Molly disengaged herself from her husband and without a word, proceeded towards the second floor, in order to find some solitary solace.
**
The trio of Harry, Ron and Draco had arrived at the headquarters of the Auror department. On the way, Ron and Draco started quarreling over the latter's treatment of Ginny once again, and Harry was forced to step in, just to maintain peace. Ironically, he thought, the role of a middleman fit him quite well…
Ron was rummaging for something behind his desk, while Harry and Draco watched him expectantly, without saying anything. The mood was rather tense, Harry observed inwardly.
At last, Ron straightened up, holding a piece of parchment in his hand. He looked somewhat puzzled, scrutinizing something on the parchment.
"The way I see it," he raised his head after another minute's pondering, "there is a connection in the whole affair."
"What do you make of it?" Draco asked him, a little stiffly.
"Everyone that has been killed…Olliviander, Gregorovitch, Mr. Beedle, our neighbour…they all had in common the trade of either making, or repairing wands."
"Right," Harry said thoughtfully. "But that doesn't explain why they were killed."
"I'm wondering where the Muggle killing factors in," Ron continued, still glancing at the parchment. "I'm fairly certain it was perpetrated by the same murderers."
"It was for show, more than anything else," Draco put in. "They're saying they've established themselves, is all."
"Mind effect," Ron explained. "It's meant to create an element of fear, just as You-Know-Who did once."
"Precisely," Draco affirmed dismissively. "Whoever it is, they are dangerous."
"So how do we go about finding them?" Harry asked at large. "Ron, you mentioned having an idea about it all…"
"I did, yes," the redhead answered hurriedly, cutting across Harry. "We have to make a list of all the wand makers in England, and give them protection. I'll give the task to my department as the first order of business tomorrow morning, and make it a priority."
It was evident that none were fooled about the seriousness of the repeated murders and the near-complete lack of evidence at the murder scenes, aside from the traces of immense torture the victims had been subjected to before their deaths.
"So, you are certain that there are no other clues we can work from?" Draco asked, wanting to confirm the question with Ron.
"Well, except the spell we found with Olliviander a while back, and that book Luna and I are keeping now, and other than that, there is nothing," Ron said matter-of-fact.
A dead end, that's where they were starting. The undercurrent of Ron's earlier desire to compile a list of the wand makers in England was that there weren't too many of them. Olliviander and Gregorovitch wands were the standard across Western and Eastern Europe accordingly. Each was famed as a master of the craft, and while there were others, none could even begin to compare. Wand making required a gift that few could lay claim to having; it was a sense of being able to detect one's internal magic and the means to bring it to its full potential - something, which Oliviander had told Harry many years ago…
Ron had proceeded to produce a note of his order for the subordinates in the department, and made copies of it. Then, with a flick of his wand, the parchments folded themselves into airplanes, and flew off to their recipients' offices.
"That's all we can do now," Ron declared with finality. "Except, you two, you will be starting directly with the department, along with Hermione and Ginny. Tomorrow is the first day, and it is important that you make it in by eight o'clock, sharp."
"What of the training?" Harry was confused.
"I didn't even apply for training," Draco chimed in.
"There is," Ron answered with a small pause, "a clause that isn't very spread out…if you were directly involved in the fight against You-Know-Who…the Minister made a small exception for me a while back…"
Harry smirked when his best friend faltered and became quiet.
"Well then…we'll accept the assignment," he said loudly. "A free job! What could be better?"
"I can think of something," Ron quipped and Draco smirked in his turn. "You know, brown eyes - "
"Shut it, mate," Harry tried to be admonishing, but failed. "I don't need to know what you do privately…"
Ron punched him in the arm on his way out. "Come on," he said. "My private life is much better than you two buggers', so don't be smart with me, Potter."
"Why are you dragging me into this, Weasley," Draco was appalled.
"Malfoy, it's your fault I couldn't sleep well last night…try an be more quiet tonight, at least…" Ron answered with humor, but there was also a tone of seriousness in his voice.
Draco's pale face flushed with anger. "It's not my fault you disappoint, Weasley," he bit back with spite.
Harry tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the peace between the other two, and eventually, reaching a maximum point of frustration gave up all effort altogether.
Yet, the consecutive scrap between Ron and Draco showed that there was still a sense of normalcy, even with the ominous threat hanging above their heads. With the thought of Hermione in his head, together with another thought of being able to start a family, Harry felt that his life would turn out well in the long term.
That was the hope anyways. There was no possible way to know how grave and dangerous the future could be.
**
The three of them arrived at the Burrow just in time for supper. The day had passed surprisingly quickly in the deliberations that followed in Ron's office, and the subsequent tour of Diagon Alley, where they were absorbed in discussing possible venues with the whole mystery, and where the murderers could strike next. Harry voiced his opinion that it was Bellatrix Lestrange behind it all, but the other two were cautious and uncertain about it, saying that Harry's opinion was only an assumption without proof; he found that he had to agree.
**
She paced around hastily, with evident irritation etched on her wasted features. Some hours before, Bellatrix had sent two of her Death Eaters to check on the status of the next target on her list - Mortimer Evans. There was rumour that he had entered into hiding since Olliviander's death was spread around, and even that knowledge only added to her frustrations. At least the idiots she called servants, managed to bring the soul duplication spell from Olliviander to her.
An insistent knock on the doors of her chamber startled her from her preoccupying thoughts.
"Enter!" she called in an authoritative tone.
The lock clicked, and the doors swung open noisily on rusting hinges. Two hooded servants walked in, bowing their heads dutifully.
"Speak, what news?" Bella inquired impatiently.
"Mistress," the shorter one of the two began, almost at a whisper, "the rumors are true - Evans has gone."
Bella was severely disappointed at the circumstances; it seemed that one had caught on what was happening to the others…
"However," interjected the other Death Eater, "we did manage to establish a direction of where he was going by following his magical signature; he had tried to conceal it, but we did manage to uncover it."
"Well?" Bellatrix's attention was raptly focused on the second servant.
"He is going to Manchester, and we expect him to be there by tomorrow morning."
A chilling smile broke over Bella's face. "Excellent work. I am satisfied. You can leave now."
The two informants visibly relaxed, and turned to leave. Maintaining their quiet statures, they respectfully bowed out of the vast chamber, and the doors closed after them with a click that reverberated throughout the room.
**
The aforementioned Mortimer Evans was feeling very unsettled and nervous. As Gregorovitch's student once upon a time, he had a good knowledge of creating wands, and he had been reading about the murder of his colleagues by trade with increasing uneasiness over the last few weeks. He had hoped their deaths were isolated incidents, but with time, he became increasingly convinced that they were intentionally targeted, which could only lead him to one conclusion: his turn was coming, sooner or later.
The train rattled on, and from the window, he saw the smokestacks of the factories in Manchester's industrial district. Something told him he didn't have a lot of time left.
Taking out a piece of yellowed parchment from the inner pocket of his jacket, he placed it on the small table near the window, and summoned a quill from his other pocket. Then he proceeded to hastily scribble the following letter:
Dear Mr. Potter,
Everything depends on you now. Please, do not permit them to take hold of it.
Your devoted servant,
M.E.
The owl in the cage next to him hooted rather nervously, as if sensing the heavy feeling that had settled in Mortimer's chest. He looked down at the snow-white bird, and unhooked the latch.
"Hedwig," he said in a quavering voice, "take this to Harry Potter, but do not come back to find me. It's time you returned to him." Mortimer rolled up the parchment, and sealed it with his wand, before fastening it to Hedwig's leg; the bird stood patiently, observing her current master with keen eyes.
He stood on his feet, and slid the window open. The air rushed inside the compartment, almost pushing him off balance. Hedwig, on cue, opened her great wings, and with a single flap, jumped up out onto the windowsill and flew up into the early morning sky.
"Good luck, Harry," Mortimer murmured, as he watched the owl become a speck in the sky, as the train rushed further towards Manchester.
Fastening the window closed, he sat back down, to try and contemplate his own escape.
That, however, was not to happen. From the corner of his eye, he caught two black silhouettes outside the compartment. A second later, the door was thrown open, and they walked in, wands raised in his direction.
"Hello, Evans," one said coldly and maliciously.
"Leave me alone," Mortimer replied, calmly, and gazing into the eye slits of their masks.
He did not even flinch, as two green beams of light shot at him; a moment later, his body lay motionless in its seat.
The two figures disappeared with slgiht cracks into thin air, as the train began to slow down and finally enter Manchester.
A/N There's chapter 11...things will be kind of busy, but i'll be working on chapter 12 in the next couple of weeks...pelase read & review.
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