A/N. Thank you all for your patience.
Someone said they missed Warren and I couldn't resist but do one of their past. It is to explain what Hermione and Warren are to each other - you may skip if you wish.
Then the present. There is a small portion about the Minister of Magic and his trusted men. Much of it is about Harry, Hugo and the fortune teller. My thanks to Locke and Maeve Morgan for their ideas in this chapter.
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Chapter 50 - The Fortune Teller
Mid July 2011
Ernie and I are with Kingsley in Nicaragua on official Ministry business. As things at the homefront are solid and stable the Minister, in recent months, has become one of the most admired and most influential leaders in the magical world. This meeting with the Ministers of Central America is to rejuvenate stagnant relations and to explore where each of them stood with regards to the growing Being uprising in the area. There is much talk that things here aren't as advertised and Kingsley felt it a moral obligation to exercise Britain's influence without officially interfering.
With us are the first two Being members of the Wizengamot, Grapplehook the Goblin and Firenze, centaur, erstwhile Professor and former resident of the Hogwarts Forbidden Forest. They are getting hosed, we all are, but the anti-Being sentiment is not hard to miss. Mid visit Grapplehook is ready to tear some delegate's head off and the usually unflappable Firenze is hot under the collar.
We expected this. They are not stupid. They are not going to show us obvious ugly but they are a proud people too. Kingsley, to his credit, remains calm and he focuses the team back to what the plan is. We hammer away at proposing partnerships and investments ultimately tied to Being welfare, some of them they would be hard-pressed to refuse.
Throughout the meeting I sense a familiar presence in the not so familiar crowd. Warren is here with the delegation from Panama; I know this from intel reports during our preparations. He is hired protection. The Panama Minister, Geraldo Valdez, is the longest serving leader in the region. He has been in office for twelve years and is paranoid about being sacked through a coup, which would be the fourth in the area in three years.
While I didn't expect Warren to welcome me with open arms I certainly expected him to at least say 'hi', even if it wouldn't be as himself. He would know that I know he's here and I am trying to sort out whether or not I should actively look for him. It wouldn't be difficult. The Panama delegation comprised of twenty five individuals, ten of them I have already spoken with.
I decide to leave him alone. Really, I don't want to dredge up the past and since he was the one who left (and had good reason to), I figure it is only right to give him as much space and time as he wanted, and the right to choose not to talk to me again.
A dinner reception concludes the 'successful' meeting and most leave for Britain after. I hang back with Ernie and a couple of Ministry project leaders to tie up loose ends in the morning. That night I go on my unofficial mission and meet with the local Being leaders. I know most of them from my years as the Mistress of Death, although none would guess that I am one and the same. Brian Figg of the OFE, my former boss and a friend of mine, and Jurnuk of the BOG join me. We listen and ask what we can do to help.
It is close to one when we finish. Brian drops me off at my hotel. Too worked up to sleep I head to the bar for a night cap and notice a nondescrip wizard sitting near the end. He has a bottle of local beer in his hand and he looks up as I enter. I take the seat beside him the same time he orders a Double Screw Screwdriver for me.
"Thanks," I say to him and then I thank the barkeep as he hands me my drink.
I take a sip; he chugs a mouthful. I'm too old for games but I don't know where to begin. He starts.
Fuck Waterloo. It's been seven years. I can't believe you don't have some speech prepared for me, he says in my mind and as I tense up and am about to get defensive he adds, "It's a joke. I'm kidding. You can relax."
I do. We look at each other and I gaze into his eyes. They're at peace and so different from the last time I looked into them. I will never forget how much I hurt him.
Does this mean you've finally forgiven me? I counter.
Warren is glib to answer; I didn't think there was anything to forgive. You were perfectly clear about what you wanted and what you didn't.
So why haven't I seen you in seven years?
I was being an ass, he admits readily.
And it took you seven years to realize that? I take a jab at him
We laugh as he corrects me, Six and a half.
Then he goes on this brutally honest tirade about me, I know I left without saying goodbye but what the hell were you thinking taking up with Weasley again? And marrying him? Were you trying to kill me?
Gone a bit melodramatic with age, have we?
He summarizes his take on what went wrong between us in a too simplistic way, You told me you didn't want to get married so I leave and then what do you do? You marry your ex-boyfriend.
I didn't marry him right away, I reason out lamely, Things happened and my priorities changed. Then I realized I made a mistake so I divorced him.
I can't believe I was number three all along.
You were not number three.
I was too.
And I can't understand your obsession about being outranked.
I can deal with being number three. But behind Ronnie? Now that was insulting.
I don't rank the men I sleep with.
Yes, you do. You marry or get engaged to the ones you care the most about.
Will you quit whining? Be a man. I didn't marry you. Big fucking deal. In my opinion you're lucky that I didn't.
He is chuckling and I am too. I whip out a couple of pictures from my purse.
"That's Rosie, she's five and Hugo, my three year old."
He studies the images and gives them back to me with a compliment, "They're beautiful kids."
"Yes they are," I glance at their smiling faces before putting them away and I'm instantly energized.
"Where are they? Their fathers'?"
He is studying my reaction. He knows, of course. The judgmental tone in his voice is not because he thinks having children with two different men is morally wrong but just so I would squirm realizing that it took him two seconds to pick up what I didn't want him to know.
"They're spending part of the summer in Perth with Granny and Grandpa."
He lets go of what I don't want to discuss and seems genuinely happy that Mum has remarried. We talk easily for the next hour or so, mostly about what we've been up to outside work. We have a mutual understanding that there are topics that are off limits, like ones about Harry and Hugo. It is like old times, like we're picking up our friendship from where we left off. In the end I succumb to the pressure and I take the opportunity to criticize his chosen career path knowing my conscience won't let me rest if I didn't.
"How can you work for such a scumbag?"
"To protect him from younger, worst scumbags," he replied matter-of-factly, "That and he offered the most money. He also has this amazing harem..."
I interrupt him before he gets more graphic, "Seriously. This henchman-bodyguard gig isn't you."
"Not all of us can be Head Aurors when we grow up, you know," he argues with the snide remark.
"Very funny. What's in this for you?"
"Are you suggesting that I'm in Panama for some reason other than the obvious?" he is amused.
"You're a self-centered, egotistical bastard," I repeat what he confessed to me about him years ago, "Being some lackey isn't you. You're up to something."
Warren merely laughs and replies, "Don't think too hard about that."
He downs the remaining half of his beer and he slips. I hear his thoughts about me, how much he hates that I'm wishing he's in Panama for some higher purpose and how far from the truth that is. My expectations annoy him and I'm making him feel guilty as he recalls something unsavoury from not so long ago.
I press on, peeling his mental barriers even though I feel his resistance. Then it comes, his painful and my guilt-filled emotions of the night he left me trickles in, disjointed and unorganized at first before the rest of the pieces bursts through in a gush of memories and explodes within us. I see his pain fuel an anger I never knew him to have, anger at me and at the world for being so unfair when he tried so hard. Soon after, in protest, he stopped trying to make the world a better place.
He pushes me off his mind just as I see a glimpse of his trek down the dark side. There is much more but I don't want to know that about him. He doesn't want me to see him like that either.
The memories, though old, are as powerful as the actual events they are based on. At this point I want to cry but he tells me not to in his usual unorthodox way.
"I'm here, I'm healed, so fuck off already with the past. I'm finally rid of it and the last thing I want is to re-live it. Do that on your own time. Okay?" he peers into my eyes and though it is difficult to stop thinking about it I nod, "So, do you want my help or not?"
He knows exactly how to keep my mind from wandering back to those thoughts but his sudden proposal catches me off guard.
"With Valdez?"
"It's not only Valdez or the other Ministers you should be worried about," he cautions, "The Being leadership in the region isn't as solid as you think and your friend MacMillan is a sleeper."
"He is not," I defend Ernie without thought, "I've known Ernie for twenty-years. He believes in what we're doing."
"He's a Pureblood bigot."
"He's a close friend."
"Yes but still a bigot," giving me that look about how weak that argument was, "And a smart one. He knows he won't get ahead in this Ministry if he shows his true colors."
I'm frowning. I can't see what he's talking about. Ernie works under me in the MLE and I can't think of one instance that would make me doubt his character.
"You're wrong about him."
"Just watch your back," Warren adds.
He goes on to tell me the weak points in the agreements we should be aware of during the procedures in the morning. By the time he is done it is almost three and we both have to be up early. He offers to walk me up to my room. It is when I feel what he feels; an upwelling of emotion; a familiar yearning. I can't believe in spite of what happened he wants to be burned again.
I nip his desires right in the bud with a light-hearted but firm tone, "I'm not having sex with you."
"You probably shouldn't. I have a very suspicious rash you won't want to get," he quips with a poker face.
"Ew!"
"It should be gone next week."
He is laughing inwardly, pulling my leg and I see a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. He enjoys teasing me this way. This is his charming and playful side and I can only shake my head at his flirtation. He puts on the pressure.
"No? Not even then? Why not?"
"You know why not."
"Because nothing has changed? I don't care," he dismisses and makes a proposal that is hard to refuse, "You can't say no to amazing sex without strings attached."
"There is no such thing as sex without strings attached," at least not for me, something I discovered about myself when I was with him.
"Not my problem anymore. It'll be just like old times."
"Do I need to remind you what I did to you the last time?"
"Do that and I'll Obliviate you," he threatens and meant it.
"Really, Warren, no."
"Arguing about this is pointless. Arguing about it will take longer than just doing it. It's inevitable."
"Inevitable. How do you figure that?" I ask, curious.
"Because you find me attractive," he states a fact, "Because I find you difficult to resist. And because you haven't had sex in almost four years you'll fold the second I step closer and touch you."
My mouth is agape in disbelief that he said what he did and I am red from embarrassment. If he was any other guy I would have been offended already however I know he isn't being disrespectful but just being his crass self. We have no secrets and he is not the type to mince words when he wants something. I find myself laughing at his crudeness to relieve my humiliation of the fact that I had not been with a man in four years because I couldn't see myself being with one, until now.
"Come to think of it, you haven't had sex for so long you're practically a virgin again. Whoa! I think I just about prematurely ejaculated thinking that."
"Will you stop that already?" I ask, as his wild imagination spills over, making me fell all warm and fuzzy inside.
"You want it too," he tells me, reading me well in my vulnerable state.
"Only because we keep talking about it. Let's just not talk about it."
"I'm just saying, it's inevitable."
He is apologetic because he is right. By then there is no need to talk about it anymore. It is a foregone conclusion. This raw honesty we have when we allow it is what I like most about being friends with him. It reminds me of how it was with Harry a long time ago.
Warren hears that last thought and he tells me there is no need to apologize. He pays for our drinks and walks me to my room. When we get there he is his usual appearance. He leans in, we kiss and we do the inevitable.
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16 September 2021 - Muggle Hotel across Luneta Park, Manila, Philippines
Harry was kicking himself. This was the last time he was going to let his fatherly instincts interfere with better judgment. Granted that his other children never gave him this much trouble, he had to remember that Hugo did not see him the way Al, James or Lily did.
It was nine. Hugo would be at the fortune teller's. Or maybe that was hogwash and the entire thing was just a ruse to get his gullible father to take him here. Hugo was very capable of doing something like that.
He took Hermione's locket out of his pocket and opened it. What he saw momentarily took the wind out of him. Gathering his bearings quickly, he Disapparated and made his way to the fortune teller's tent, seeing red all the way.
It had to be Warren. The prick behind it had to be Warren. And as soon as Harry could take this slippery son of his back to Grimmauld he was going to track his ex-partner down and try his best not to kill him.
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Present time - MOM Office, London
Leo Jericho had the Ministry Legilimens team in his office. They had just concluded an exhaustive interrogation on Ron Weasley and they were there to give him a report.
"What do you mean you have nothing?!" Hank screamed at the three-member team.
"Well, not nothing," Max in his usual sarcastic tone interjected as he put the parchment with the official report down on the Minister's desk, "Apparently the cost of baby diapers costs a pound less at Nappies r Us."
"You have nothing on Potter?" Hector was skeptical, "Not even names or faces of co-conspirators?"
The Legilimens replied in the negative.
"There is one thing," the senior member of the team replied, somewhat with hesitation.
"What is it?" the Minister asked.
"It's very sensitive information," the wizard explained to Leo, his eyes darting furtively to the other occupants in the room.
"This is not on your report?"
"It's too sensitive to be on a report."
"Speak up. The men in this room can be trusted," Leo ordered him.
The wizard stammered, all eyes and ears on him as he took a moment to compose himself before answering, "Well Minister, at one point late in the questioning Auror Weasley started laughing. He was laughing so hard we thought he had cracked and gone mad. Not so. I asked him what was so funny. He declined to answer but I did pick up a fragment of his thought."
He paused, somewhat afraid to speak further.
Leo prodded him, "Go on."
"He was laughing thinking how much of an idiot you are, Minister, Sir."
The human contents of his office shifted uncomfortably. Leo blushed but regained his composure immediately.
"Um-why did Weasley think that?"
The Legilimens continued, "Because Potter asked him to watch your back. Potter believes at least one of the three men behind you should not be trusted. Potter thinks one of them is working for Malvado."
Leo Jericho did not move but from the corner of his eye he saw Hank, Max and Hector squirm in place and he began thinking.
He thanked the Legilimens, "You and your team are dismissed. Good work, Flavius."
"Thank you kindly, Minister," Flavius Belcher replied and had a most satisfied look on his face as he and his team left the Minister's office.
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Present time - Luneta Park, Manila, Philippines
Hugo was inside the fortune teller's tent. He was fidgeting, wishing the person who had gone in before him would finish soon, and looking around for any sign of his father. He felt bad about having to ditch his old man but he had good reason to. For one, he wasn't sure if the fortune teller would see him if the Auror came. He also didn't want his father to hear what he was going to ask and what the answer was going to be.
Earlier he recognized his stupidity as he overheard Warren's conversation with his father. A few days ago his knowledge of Malvado was no more than mere trivia, a part of a test of whether or not he could penetrate Warren's mental defenses. The name and case meant nothing for he had always been aware of the sensitive nature of his Mum's work. He never got involved and never thought to be involved until now.
Malvado being the son of death changed all that. The only other time he heard of the 'son of death' was when this fortune teller mentioned it to him. At that time he dismissed it as the ramblings of a drunk and never even thought to share it with his friends. That was unfortunate. Had Isa heard it too she would have told him about Malvado sooner. And after reading that Isa had known about Malvado all along and had written about it on a school report he felt even more stupid. He should have been more curious. He should have asked Isa even though Warren told him discussing Malvado outside their mental exercises could put his Mum in danger and compromise what she was trying to do.
If only he had known sooner that Malvado was the son of Death things might have turned out differently. He would have stayed with his Mum and maybe his Mum would be okay.
At five past nine the second customer came out crying, her reaction no different than the first one or the ones he had witnessed the year before.
"She told me I'm going to die soon!" the young woman shared hysterically in the local language as her companion joined her and tried to comfort her, "I'm only twenty-two!"
Spencer had aptly renamed the witch a misfortune teller because of the fact that all she ever predicted was bad fortune. The emotionless fortune teller's assistant, a cross-eyed, short, pudgy man in his thirties, appeared at the entrance and called him in.
"Ninoy?"
Hugo nodded and got on his feet. The assistant eyed him curiously. The alias was Isa's pick, the one he used when they were here last year and was the name of her favourite Filipino Muggle hero.
He followed the man into the secluded fortune reading room. The tent was just as he remembered it. The walls were lined by tapestry of odd mismatched wizarding designs, candles lit the periphery giving the room an orangey hue and the one major piece of furniture was a round wooden table with two matching seven-legged stools. Hard to miss on top of it was a clouded, murky crystal ball.
The assistant motioned him to sit on the stool closest to the doors, muttering an expletive about the fact that the fortune teller had taken a break again, complaining bitterly about how he wasn't being paid enough to babysit. He demanded the five thousand peso service payment for the thirty minute consult, all of it non-refundable. It was a steep price considering many would not last ten minutes with her.
Money tucked away, the man disappeared beyond the beaded curtain doorway across the table. Almost instantly a barely audible argument ensued between the fortune teller and her assistant. The assistant walked in moments later, stoic yet obviously incensed. He stood at attention, cleared his throat and in a drone like voice did his thing in the English language.
"Presenting to you, the gifted and most accurate fortune-tell..."
"Seer!" corrected a snarly voice from beyond the beads.
"Seer...," the assistant corrected, rolling his eyes even further than Hugo thought possible, "...this side of the Pacific has ever known, not to mention grossly overpaid, Mystic Sybill."
The beaded curtains parted on their own and out came a plump witch with huge inch thick spectacles, hair pulled up in an untidy bun. She wore a shiny red dress that rustled with each unsteadily step to the table. As she sat she miscalculated the chair position and disappeared from view with a thud.
Without another thought Hugo stood and went around the table, finding Mystic Sybill in an ungainly position on the floor. The assistant remained where he was, too preoccupied laughing at the sight before him. Hugo grabbed onto her soft, thick arm and struggled to help her up.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm okay, sweetie. Thank you. You are such a gentleman, not like somebody else here," she replied in a wispy, breathless voice as she got up, casting the castigating remark at her assistant who was still snickering behind them, totally unaffected by the insult.
Hugo helped her to her seat and got close enough to get a whiff of a fruity aroma from the Seer. This was what Hugo was afraid of. Like the last time he saw her, the fortune teller was drunk and she made no sense whatsoever then except for that last bit about the son of Death after Isa and Spencer left the room. Merlin only knew if she would even remember him.
"Are you sure?" Hugo had to ask as the old witch almost slipped off her seat again.
"Yes, sit; sit," she motioned him over to his stool, "We shall start. Leave us, Kulasito."
The assistant did as he was told. He turned off the brighter candles on his way out, sending the room into semi-darkness. The crystal ball at the centre of the table lit up and the seer started humming, her hands carressing the round object as she gazed into it.
Hugo let her do her thing but after a while, and it was a while, he began to wonder if he should interrupt. He was about to when the humming stopped. Mystic Sybill was very still so he waited and he waited and then he heard a sound...a gurgling sound.
Great. She was snoring. If not for the fact that he really needed to speak with her he would have just left.
"Mystic Sybill...Mystic Sybill...," he stood up and came up beside her, touching her shoulder, gently shaking her, trying to wake her up, "Mystic Sybill, wake up, Mystic Sybill..."
She snorted and moved but only to embrace the crystal ball. Not even a war could wake her up. Hugo swore under his breath, at a loss about what to do.
"Need my help?" a voice suddenly came out of nowhere and his pissed off father appeared from a lifting Dissillusionment Charm on the other side of Mystic Sybil.
The murderous look in his father's eyes was enough to send goose bumps down his spine. He had really pushed the old man over the limit.
"I'm sorry..." he began to apologize but his father cut him short.
"Save it for later," the Auror snapped at him, annoyed, "Why didn't you tell me she was the fortune teller?"
"What?!"
What was he talking about? His father didn't answer. He was already nudging the Seer, trying to wake her up too.
"Professor...Professor Trelawney..."
Professor Trelawney? Mystic Sybill was Professor Trelawney, the former Hogwarts Divination teacher?!
"Professor Trelawney!" the Auror shook her one more time.
"Huh? Wha? What?"
The Professor stirred, lifting her head and finally coming to. She fixed her glasses back on right and recognized the person waking her up.
"Mr. Potter? Merlin, I must be dreaming..."
"No you're not dreaming, Professor. It is me."
Mystic Sybill was blushing and was attempting to fix up her appearance as she stammered, "Mr. Potter...why...well...it is so unexpected to see you. What are you doing here?"
"That's exactly my question to you."
Even from the dimmed out lights Hugo could see that the Seer was beet red when she replied, "My inner eye led me here, and it told me to travel and share my gift, make my mark internationally..."
"Mystic Sybill - er Professor," Hugo interrupted, now unsure about how to properly address her, "Do you remember me?"
Professor Trelawney noticed him for the first time since waking up and squinted up close, peering over her spectacles before shaking her head, "My dear boy, I am close to a hundred years old. I'm lucky if I remember my name. Should I?"
"I saw you last year, with my two friends," he tried to remind her, "You said all three of us were in grave danger."
"I'm sorry, young man..."
Hugo was determined, figuring that telling her more might tweak her memory, "I was leaving when you said that the son of death was going to make trouble and that I was the only one who could end it."
But the added information didn't seem to work. It only confused the Professor more.
"I did? Surely if I said something like that I would remember. Son of death? Why, I can't imagine..."
"You have to remember!" Hugo pleaded as she rambled.
"She can't," his father had given up so easily.
Hugo insisted, feeling despair that she might not, "Of course she can! She said I was the only one who could do it! She has to remember!"
The Professor was sympathetic, "But I honestly don't. My Healer did say to ease up on the Sherry years ago but..."
"It doesn't work that way with her," his father explained, his tone intolerant, "If you told me it was her, I would have told you that and we wouldn't have wasted all this time coming here!"
"I didn't know it was her!"
His father didn't believe him, questioning his honesty, "How could you not? You said your mother told you everything!"
"She told me about ProfessorTrelawney but from pictures she was always thin!!" Hugo tried to defend himself, "I didn't recognize her! How was I supposed to know?"
"It's the local food, you see," the Professor cut in, somewhat embarrassed, "I find the local food just delectable and quite irresistable. And the laid back lifestyle and stress-free pace of recent years, I find, has opened up the channels and liberated my potential..."
They couldn't care less about the Professor's explanation.
"What? Her words 'you are in grave danger' did not ring a bell?!" his father yelled at him, irked far more than Hugo thought was warranted.
Hugo felt like crying. It really didn't ring a bell. Why was he so upset at him for not realizing who Mystic Sybill was? And why did it matter?
The Professor came to his aid, giving his old man a piece of her mind, "I don't like that tone you have Mr. Potter. Why are you badgering with this sweet boy?"
The Auror, feeling a compelling need, replied, "He's my son and he's not as sweet as he wants you to think."
"He's your son?" was the Seer's more confused answer, "Why Mr Potter! This is a disgrace! You have a family! Taking up with a local woman...!"
"No, he did not take up with a local woman," Hugo morphed back to himself, explaining to Professor Trelawney, befuddling her even more. Thinking she probably needed some time to digest the new information, Hugo took the opportunity to apologize to his father again, "Look, I'm sorry, okay!"
But his old man was shaking his head, talking to himself, "We shouldn't have come here. We wasted all this time when we could have taken your Mum to a Healer..."
"Stop saying that! We are not wasting time! We need to talk to her!" he pointed at the Seer, who was now sitting back and seemingly content at being entertained by their heated exchange.
"What for?! So she can tell you again that you're in grave danger and that you're the one who has to finish Malvado off?!"
"No! So she can tell me how to do it!"
"What?!"
"She told me to come back when I was ready to face my destiny, that she'll tell me how to fulfill it. And that's why I'm hoping that she remembers me because I have no clue how I'm supposed to stop the son of Death!"
His father was speechless for a few seconds, taken aback by his admission. This was precisely the reason why he didn't want the Auror around for this. Because he'd get all rational and logical like an adult and...
"Let's go."
Decide to leave. Could he not understand how important the information was?!
Hugo tried to make a pitch, "But she knows how...!"
"Forget what she said."
"But I need to know...!"
"You don't need to know! If you think I will let you go after Malvado because some Seer says you have to do it and that she will tell you how then think again!"
"This is not happening!"
"You will not go anywhere near Malvado!"
"The hell I'm not! I have no choice!"
"Of course you do!"
"How can you even think that!? You of all people should know how prophecies work! You went on to fulfill your destiny. I have to fulfill mine!"
"Get a grip! It's just a prophecy! We're going back to your Mum and I don't want arguments from you!"
"Unbelievable! I knew you were a piece of work but I didn't figure you for a hypocrite!"
His cowardly father faced Mystic Sybill and said to her, "Thank you for your time, Professor."
"He does have a good point, you know," Mystic Sybill commented out of the blue, sounding more lucid and somewhat different, "But I'm somewhat disappointed that your son calls you a hypocrite and you're just going to let him get away with it. Why Heartbreak, I expected so much more from you."
His father stopped to look at the Professor closely. He too must have noted the difference. Did she just call his father Heartbreak?
"Professor?" Hugo checked.
"Hush Heartbreak Jr., I'll get to you in a second," Mystic Sybil dismissed him.
It dawned on Hugo then that they were no longer talking to Mystic Sybill.
"Hag," his father greeted the witch, recognizing who she was, "You're supposed to be dead."
The Hag let out a sigh of frustration, "I know, I know. Don't remind me. So, how is my favourite student? I see your life has turned out to be somewhat complicated?"
"Why are you here?" his father got to the point.
"I was just about to help Junior here with his destiny. Son of Death versus the Son of Death's Mistress. The prophecy says it's THE battle of the Century. Exciting stuff!"
"It was her," Hugo confirmed for his father as they both looked at him, "She was the one who said to come back when I was ready."
"And you thought I was just a rambling drunk, you snotty little bastard," the Hag retorted with a stinging remark, "Are you indeed ready for your destiny?"
"Yes, I am."
"So why did you bring daddy to the party?" she posed a challenging question, "Banking on the fact that he will want to step in and fulfill it for you?"
Her words grated against him like metal on metal so much that he blurted out an emotion filled defence, "Of course not! He wasn't invited! And he's not my daddy!"
The Hag laughed, "Goodness! You quip with a whip just like your mother."
"How do you know my mother?!"
"Long and interesting story, Junior," the witch retorted, "But one that will have to wait seeing that your Dad is in a rush to save other people."
"He's not my Dad!"
"Daddy, dad, father, whatever Junior. As much as you wish he isn't from the looks of you he obviously is, so stop deluding yourself," she replied, then went off like she was on some stage doing a speech, "You are his bastard; nobody can change that fact. You should embrace it! You should stand tall, be proud and shout to the rest of the world that you are Harry Potter's bastard! The sooner you accept it, the sooner everyone else will!"
Hugo's face was hot; his ears were steaming! The woman was crazy! Who did she think she was saying things like that?! How could she think that would be okay?
And it seemed that the insane witch was not done, "Think of it this way, Junior. You're special. There are three legitimate Potter children but you're the only Potter bastard in the world."
Hugo was in near tears when his father stepped in.
"That's enough, Hag!"
"Why?" the Hag countered, oblivious to what if anything was wrong, "I'm just saying things many want to say to him but can't. The brat needs to hear it."
"Stop calling him brat and stay out of our business."
"Fine, I was merely trying to help. Now about Junior's destiny..."
"Don't call me Junior," Hugo protested, hating the nickname already, though he was sure it fell on deaf ears.
"Yes, about that," his father interrupted, "Why tell my son nonsense about being destined to be the one to finish off a dark wizard?"
"Because the nonsense is true."
The Auror argued with the Hag, "True or not you're dead. These matters don't concern you. It's pathetic that you have to come back and possess another person's body just to play mind games with teenagers. Are you really the Hag and if you are, what's in this for you?"
The witch clasped her chubby hands together and teary-eyed answered back, "I would say 'fuck you too' if not for the fact that I'm so proud of you right now that I taught you well enough not to trust me or anyone who could be pretending to be me."
The histrionics only angered his father.
"Come on, Hugo," the older man said to him roughly and Hugo wasn't about to argue with him.
They made for the exit when the witch spoke in a calculating fashion, "To prove I am who I say I am I could recount how I finally motivated you to be an excellent Occlumens, to keep your thoughts from me, funny amusing shower story that is, or tell you why I never taught Waterloo the things I taught you. But I figure none of that is appropriate in present company."
What she said made his father stop, the older man giving the Hag a hard stare, as she continued, "You know I am who I am, Heartbreak. Waterloo's brat came to me, not the other way around. He needs direction. I can give him that."
"Why are you meddling?"
"Because I'm bored. Because nothing interesting like this happens in Death. Why does it matter? I'm here to keep you and Waterloo from losing another child. I'm hoping for a little gratitude here, especially from you," the Hag said, composure intact and unbreakable.
Hugo was stunned by what she just said and asked his father to confirm, "You and Mum had another child?"
His father didn't answer. He was busy measuring the Hag and her response.
"They did, years before they had you, years before your brother James. They had a good thing going, isn't that right Heartbreak?"
"Mum never said anything..."
The Hag gave him lip for his thoughtless comment, "You should know by now that your mother kept many things from you and from everyone else. I'm sure if you asked your Dad he can tell you all about it some other time, when he's less angry at you. But right now time is of the essence. There is a dark wizard on the loose and you have a destiny to fulfill."
"There is no such thing as destiny," his father finally spoke to him, "Destiny is what you choose to make it."
"Your dad knows otherwise. He just doesn't want you thinking it," the Hag whispered loudly in his direction.
"He's not my Dad," Hugo repeated, frustrated that she could not get that straight.
"Whatever."
His father turned to address the witch and they started talking about him like he wasn't there, "Hag, he's young and impressionable And this thing about me and his Mum has him confused."
"I'm not confused! Speak for yourself!"
The Auror continued, "I'd really appreciate it if you didn't mess with him."
Hugo sensed a conversation happening on a different plain as his father's and the witch's eyes locked. He knew his old man was going to get in the way. He tried to get the Hag's attention.
"Just tell me how to do it!"
The Hag looked at him apologetically and said, "Your Dad doesn't think that's a good idea."
"I don't care what he thinks!" Hugo had enough of his father's intervening, "It's my destiny! I need to know."
"Well good," the Hag smiled widely as she folded her arms across her chest, "You can ask your dad."
"What?!"
The Hag replied simply, "I just told your dad. You need to know. He knows. Ask him."
Seriously?!
"What?!"
"Heartbreak, get his ears checked. There's something wrong with his hearing," the conniving witch remarked in her now annoying and condescending tone, "This is where I make my exit."
"Thanks Hag," his father said to the witch, "I owe you."
"Don't thank me yet. Remember, you cannot do this alone. You will still need your bastard's help. Good luck to you, both."
He had to vent, "This is so unfair!"
The Hag scolded him, "You call this unfair? You're thirteen. You don't know unfair, Junior. And your dad isn't all that bad so stop being a brat. You're just embarrassing your Mum."
"Tell me what I need to know!"
"Out of my hands, Junior. Talk to your dad."
"Just tell me! Just tell me, dammit!" he screamed.
"Wh...why are you yelling at me?" a quivering, puzzled voice came from her mouth.
"Hag! Hag!" Hugo called out to the witch, trying to get her to respond.
But it was Professor Trelawney who answered back, "Mr. Potter! It is not proper manners to call someone a hag! Who is your mother? I want to have a word with her!"
Hugo gave up. The Hag was gone. He was pissed, the look on his face mirroring the scowl on his father's. He looked his old man in the eye and showed him his disgust at what he just did. The Auror did not back down and he had to look away as he realized there was no way in hell his father would tell him what the Hag just told him.
"My apologies, Professor. I will talk with him," his father said, "It was nice seeing you again."
Just as Professor Trelawney concluded a lengthy goodbye, his old man grabbed him by the arm and flung him to the ground. A burst of gunfire whizzed above him, puncturing holes into the tent. There was yelling, screaming and groaning as he heard a second round of shots being fired. Candles had flown out of their holders, some of them landing on the highly flammable decor, causing the tapestry to catch fire. In seconds, debris and smoke filled the room. There were voices outside, distressed onlookers and policemen telling people to back off, to wait for the firemen.
Where was his father? Hugo could hardly see through the haze and it was getting very hot. He could imagine the tent collapsing on them any moment now. He groped around the spot where he last saw the Auror standing and felt a leg. It was limp when he tugged at it and damp to his touch. He brought his hand up to his face and saw blood.
Crawling up closer to the body he recognized his father, unconscious. He tried Disapparating with him but there was something blocking their transport. Suddenly there was a loud crash to their right accompanied by cries from the outside. A portion of the tent had gone down. With no choice and not a moment to spare, he clasped his father's shoulders with both hands really tight, closed his eyes, and freed himself.
XXXXXXXXXX
A/N. Locke - I know you had doubts but I hope I did justice to the Trelawney as the fortune teller scene. Thought it would be a wonderful surprise to have the Hag back too :)
Maeve - thanks for reminding me that Harry has the locket.
I think it's finally time to wake Hermione up.