A/N. Thanks for all the feedback. There are two parts to this chapter. The first is about the enemy. The second is one with Harry, Hugo, Ron and Ginny. The latter was kind of hard to write hence the slow update. I do hope that you enjoy this one.
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Chapter 6 - The Master of Death
Somewhere high up in the thick brush of Mount Ingkanto, too remote and unreachable by ordinary Muggles, a festive occasion was being attended by a collection of the vilest magical beings this part of the world. The outbursts of boisterous laughter came in waves over the steady blare of Muggle inspired music, the racket interrupting the usual serenity of the small village this time of the day. The party began at dawn with the death of the witch considered to be one of if not the greatest hindrance to their creation of a world of organized anarchy.
Completely protected from the elements by lush forest cover, it always seemed nighttime in the headquarters of the Malvados. Lamp posts that burned blue eternal flames were strategically dispersed through out the camp. The ground was always damp, the air cool and its lack of exposure to the sun provided the perfect habitat for a portion of the beings living there and in attendance.
In the midst of the community, surrounded by dwellings of various shapes and forms, was a clearing with a raised wooden centre stage carved out from wide trunks of dead trees. The home grown band was playing on it, providing entertainment to supplement free flowing wine and an abundant supply of beings for fleshly pleasure. All in all there were about two hundred in attendance as many members based elsewhere in the world had come to join the fun.
Pop! Pop!
Two robed figures suddenly appeared on the platform. The music came to a screeching halt and an immediate silence befell the revelers. The taller Apparitionist in black took his hood off exposing his harsh ungainly lower primate-like features, anger obvious through the thin slits of his red tinged eyes. He began surveying the mob, looking for someone. Halfway through the crowd he stopped, gaze transfixed at a spot. The sea of beings parted towards it and at its end stood an armed half-giant who quickly launched an attack.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The green burst of light found its target on centre stage but it merely bounced off. The attempt was a bust from the onset. In a split second the half-giant's wand was broken and he was being magically dragged through the jagged stony ground up the platform where he would be made an example of and would eventually die.
Unarmed and helpless, the huge wizard looked at Salazar Malvado defiant.
"She lives," he declared, taunting, hoping it would mean a swifter end.
"I killed her myself, delusional fool!"
A curse hit him and it felt as if millions of pins pierced every square inch of his body all at the same time. He could not help but scream and was breathing heavily when it stopped.
"She...she has conquered death...long live Jean Peve...argh!!"
The second one broke him. He slumped on the wooden platform all of him aching and although he tried he could not move.
"Pathetic, just like your half assed attempt to infiltrate our ranks and kill me. The Keeper is dead. The secret is lost forever. Die knowing that all hope is lost," Malvado retorted, grinning widely, gloating his victory. He then turned to the crowd, "This is what we do to traitors!"
Malvado lifted his sinewy arms and pointed the weapon at his prisoner, a hissing sound escaped from his lips and an intense red ray of light sprung from the wand that many feared more than the wizard it recognized as its true master. The sheer force of its magic lifted the half-giant off the dais, all eyes following him as he was spun and reshaped into many unnatural and physically impossible configurations before exploding into many chunks and pieces.
There was absolute silence. Malvado eyed his captive audience and was satisfied with their reaction. He put away the Death Stick.
"Let's party!"
A thunderous roar of approval and relief filled the silence. Music resumed as the savage among them partook of the fresh meat he just served.
The wizard behind him approached and updated him of the situation.
"The traitor's message got through."
Malvado hissed once again in a language only a handful in the world could understand much less speak. The other replied in English, puzzled.
"I thought you wanted to wait until we found it."
"I am the Master of Death. I have nothing to fear. Let him come."
"As you wish."
Malvado scanned the crowd again. A hunger within him had to be quenched.
"Where is she?" he asked the other wizard impatiently.
"I haven't seen her since the attack. She's probably trolling Muggle campsites for fresh blood."
It could be days before she came back. He hated it when he got too attached.
"Get me another vampire whore."
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Harry, Ted and Hugo arrived in London a few minutes later. Ted had to be ordered to go home. He then took Hugo to the Potter House, or the Pitch as family and close friends called it, their downcast mood reflected in the somber truce they wordlessly agreed upon from the time they left the morgue.
Ron and Ginny were in the kitchen, tepid cups of tea in their hands and an untouched plate of apple pie on the mahogany breakfast table. Hugo quickly walked up to Ron and buried his face into his surrogate father's chest, freeing muffled sounds of agony from deep within. Seeing his son sob uncontrollably broke Harry's heart. Ron embraced the teenager snugly and tried to soothe him, murmuring words of comfort. As glad as Harry was that Ron was there for Hugo he wished he could help Hugo more. And he would give anything to be Ron at that very moment; anything save for Hermione being alive and well.
He was so wrapped up in that thought he didn't even notice that Ginny was beside him until she spoke. Her puffed out eyes matched the sadness he saw within her. Bad history and all, they were good friends once and Harry sensed there was more to Ginny's emotions than just grief.
"This is terrible…" her words faded off as she lost her voice, her arms coming up around his neck.
She hugged him and he hugged her back. Where he thought and had hoped he would feel some relief there was only more of the same raw gnawing ache that had steadily kept him company since Jessie showed him the body. Despite the pain he hung on anyway, feeling that he deserved every bit of it. If he could at least make someone else feel better…
"I can't believe this is happening. I just spoke with her this morning."
So did I. I should have asked more questions. I should have insisted when she refused. I should have been there…
His throat tightened up he had to swallow back his attempt at a reply.
"Are they certain it's her?" she whispered.
"Jessie...she was there."
Her tears quickly soaked through his robes and he instinctively clutched her tighter. Ginny rarely cried and when she did she did so silently. Not today. She tried but couldn't keep it in. Harry knew she was dying inside.
"I'm so sorry, Harry…"
"I know, Gin. So am I."
It was his fault after all. He was the reason Ginny and Hermione were no longer friends, the reason Hermione left, the reason she died.
Ginny pulled away just as Hugo did and Harry caught the unmistakable look of contempt on his son's face. It was then when he realized there was only one way to fix this. Hermione was wrong. It was unfair to the kid to make him decide. It was hard enough a decision for grown-ups. And it would get ugly before it could get better but he had to tell everyone the truth. First he needed a moment alone with his son to give the kid the courtesy of knowing what he was going to do. Hugo, however, had other plans.
"Dad, can we go now?"
He wanted to leave, was anxious to leave. There was no way Harry would allow that, not after it became clear to him what Hermione's real reason for having Hugo stay with him was. His home by his blood was Hugo's home. Staying here would afford Hugo more magical protection than it would if he stayed at Ron's. Hermione was worried the trouble she was dealing with would seek their son out and find him.
"You should stay," Ginny said to Ron before Harry did, "Rosie will be in St. Mungo's for at least another day and it'll be easier for you to be in London to deal with all this."
"What's happened to Rosie?" Harry and Hugo asked almost at the same time in the same tone and inflection.
"She needed a Healer's draught after she heard what happened. She should be better in the morning," Ron answered but was still undecided about his sister's offer.
Ginny pressed on, "Really, Ron. We have plenty of room here. Send for Anne, Sam and Brian in the morning."
Harry weighed in, hoping Ron would choose to stay, "She's right. It's better for you to be here. It'll be crazy over the next few days."
Out of the corner of his eye Hugo was all set to protest.
"I don't want to stay," Hugo put simply.
"Your Mum sent you to us. She wanted you here," Harry reminded him.
"My Mum wanted a lot of things she didn't get. She was used to not getting what she wanted."
Truce broken. Harry had hoped it would last longer.
"Hugo!" Ron admonished, "Don't be crass."
"It's okay, Ron."
But Hugo was all flushed and not quite done.
"So now you're all concerned about it. I guess it's better late than never, huh?!"
"What's gotten into you?!" Ron, confused and upset, raised his voice.
"Me?! What's gotten into me?! What's gotten into you?! Mum just got murdered! Why aren't you after her killers?!"
"They are, sweetie," Ginny explained, "It may not look like it but they are."
"They're not! They don't even know where to begin! They don't know what it's about!"
Harry challenged, "Why don't you tell us? Tell us what this is about. Tell us who we should go after."
Hugo backtracked, "I don't know! How would I know?"
"Quit lying," Harry knew he was.
"Harry!" Ginny was appalled by his accusation.
"I'm just a kid. Do you really think my Mum would tell me stuff like this?"
Maybe not tell but he remembered how much stuff they knew as teenagers they shouldn't have. Nobody ever told them but they found out anyway.
"He's right, Harry. Hermione wouldn't," Ron took Hugo's side, "And if he knew anything that would help us catch her murderers he'd tell us right away, right?"
Hugo looked at Ron and without batting an eyelash firmly said "Of course. I would have already."
That was convincingly truthful enough. With those last words Harry tweaked on something Hugo did tell him already; the Ministry and his Mum being on assignment. He was about to ask more questions when a foreign thought nudged his out of the way.
Don't ask.
He shunned it and looked at Ron.
"I'll talk with Anne," Ron said to Ginny.
It wasn't him. Then it came again.
Don't ask about the Ministry.
Harry blocked it off once more and this time found Hugo looking at him intensely. There was a break in his disrespectful demeanor and an unmistakable invitation to read his thoughts.
"I'm sure she'll say yes," Ginny replied. "You and Anne can stay in the…"
Legilimiens!
It came to him swiftly, an image of Hermione in the dimly lit bedroom, breathless and rain-drenched, a tear visible on her blood soaked shoulder. The light flickered on her worried expression and she was leaning over, so close he could feel her.
The Ministry already chose to stay away. This is not your Dad's fight. Promise me you won't get him involved!
Hugo's hesitation reflected off her hazel eyes.
Promise me!
Harry was mesmerized by the sight of her and the sight of what she went through moments before it happened, he barely heard Hugo do as she asked.
"I'm going to Dad's then?"
"You're going to your father's."
Was it remorse? Regret? It was difficult to tell for sure what she was feeling but he hung on to the tenderness in which she referred to him, letting her words echo in his mind.
…your father's…
He longed to see the rest but the memory was abruptly ripped away. Hugo broke off the link and cast a surreptitious glance at Ron. Whatever this was about Hermione wanted Ron out of it and Hugo had promised. For now Harry would respect their wishes.
"I'm sorry I was rude, Uncle Harry," Hugo issued a lip service apology, the tone in the address stung Harry as it was meant to; "I guess I'm just tired. Maybe with sleep I'll remember something more useful."
Tired? Harry thought not. Hugo just effortlessly used a suggestive spell on him, not once but twice. It was a borderline Imperius curse that was punishable as a felony in some jurisdictions. Hugo's knowledge of and skill at using it was both amazing and disconcerting.
But the kid had been through a lot; it was hard to fully comprehend the mass of emotions he was feeling inside. Harry wanted to understand, he wanted to know to help ease it somewhat but up until now he had been an unwelcome outsider. Hugo, maybe out of desperation, was thinking of letting him in but needed some space.
"We'll talk in the morning," he said.
Harry actually imagined himself walking closer and maybe, patting Hugo on the shoulder and ruffling his son's already messed up brown hair but the thought of the teenager cringing away from contact was too painful he did not want to risk it.
Hugo needs time.
Her voice filled him, encouraging him and confirming that giving Hugo space was the right thing to do.
"Sweetie, you can use Al's room while you're here," Ginny offered as she and Ron had just sorted out logistics, "I'm sure he won't mind."
Before the boy could disagree his Aunt Ginny shushed him, took his rucksack in one hand, his hand in the other and led him up the stairs. Harry let his gaze follow them up the steps as far as he could see and listened in on their conversation as much as he could hear.
"You are taking some calming draught."
"No thanks. I'll be fine without it, Aunt Ginny."
Harry was somewhat relieved. Hugo sounded civil enough, reserving the animosity especially for him.
"You've had quite a night."
"I'm fine, really."
As stubborn as his mother.
And Ginny would not hear of it. She was right. The kid did need to rest and a calming draught would help. That would also ensure Hugo wouldn't try something impulsive like find a way to break the wards, which Harry suspected he was more than capable of, and sneak out to see his mother. As much as Harry wanted to ask them right away, the questions about Hermione would have to wait. And after asking the questions he'd tell Hugo what he was going to do.
He glanced over to Ron who had been quiet all this time. His friend had been listening in as well. Almost certain it would fall short and sound hollow, Harry did not even attempt to reassure. He made a batch of fresh tea instead and took two cups to the table, offering one to Ron.
They sat quietly for a while, both entranced by the steam escaping from their hot beverages. Harry wondered if Ron was feeling as guilty as he was for not being with her and for not convincing her enough to come back to London. As Hugo so astutely pointed out, they both should be out there looking for clues and hunting down her murderers, not here sipping tea in silence and seeking solace in the company of family. There was no time to be human but he, with guilt, feeling a compelling need for it to function, stole the moment anyway.
"You were right. Hugo wanted to see the body," Harry told him, breaking the ice.
"Yeah, he's still upset about not being able to," Ron slowly twirled his cup in place, speaking to it, and then added, "We actually talked about this."
"About?"
"About what to do if something happened to her," Ron scrounged his face up in a losing effort not to cry again.
He remembered. They did, too.
"Honestly, Harry. Whether it's today or fifty years from now we are all going to die. I don't see why talking about it is such a big deal. "
They were in bed, his arms wrapped around her body, her bare back finding a perfect grove against him as she rubbed her feet and toes lightly against his. They had just made passionate love and it amused him how she always liked to talk after.
"I don't think it's a big deal either," he replied with his eyes already closed, fighting against the somnolence that was taking over his dead tired hormone influenced body, "It's just depressing to talk about it and I'm feeling a bit insecure here."
"Huh?"
That brought a smile to his face.
"My girlfriend thinks about death while we make love. I can only conclude that I must be terrible at it."
"Shut up," she responded but she was smiling too.
He gave her flitting kisses on her neck and shoulder.
"Unless you're telling me I was so darn good it felt like you died and went to heaven."
"That's definitely it."
Hermione laughed. He laid his head back and pulled her closer. His work was done.
For a second he thought she had dozed off, until she spoke again, "Can I ask you an unfair question?"
He snorted teasing, "As if I have a choice."
Hermione chuckled and after another little while asked, "What are you going to do if I die tomorrow?"
It was unfair and he didn't like it but he did have an answer.
"If you die tomorrow I'll walk up to Death and ask him to take me too."
"You wouldn't."
"I would. There would be no point. I can't imagine life without you."
He was serious but she laughed, or maybe it was a chortle. She always did when he said 'silly' things like that, either she thought he was kidding or she didn't believe him. He rolled her on her back and propped himself up over her. She was smiling but when he gazed into her brown eyes they weren't. They were apologetic, for what he wasn't quite sure of but figured he had all the time in the world to suss that one out.
"I really can't. I mean it."
Brushing her hand lightly on his face, the smile on hers disappeared as she answered, "I know you do."
Hermione kissed him; he kissed her back. It was deep and complete, satisfying in the sense that it filled need but lacking in that it spurred insatiable mutual want. Living and not being able to do this and to be this for her would not be living at all.
"You don't believe me," he accused her in a nonthreatening way as their kiss ended.
"It's not that I don't believe you, Harry. Dying is part of living. People die all the time and when they do those who are left should move on. So, when it's my turn, unimaginable as it may seem now, I would want you to move on."
"If I die tomorrow, what would you do?"
"I would move on."
She was lying.
"Yeah, right."
"Okay, but I would at least try."
That was the one time they talked about it and they never got to finish the conversation. Thinking about her that way made him warm each and every time and he hadn't allowed himself to in a long while. Some memories, no matter how pleasant, just brought more pain after.
Ron sniffled, bringing him back to reality.
"She was always thinking ahead and I wish I had paid more attention but I never imagined she would go first," Ron admitted, "Merlin, she's gonna get pissed when she finds out I wasn't really listening."
They chuckled at that thought, their smiles incongruent with the tears on their faces. Ron was being Ron, finding ways to cope with unfamiliar emotions. Soon enough they slid back to the depths of grief and the only other better place they could immerse themselves in.
Ron took them there, "Do you really think Hugo knows more than he's telling?"
Harry shrugged, "I don't know."
"What did you find out from the SAMP?"
"They think the Malvados have something to do with it."
"That's what Leo said."
"How did he figure that?"
"A death threat addressed to Hermione dated a few days ago. It's about that bloody school. The Malvados don't want it on their turf," Ron said angrily. "She shouldn't have baited those bigots needlessly..."
"You don't really mean that. She believed in it."
"It got her killed."
"It might or it might not have but she's been this way since we met her," Harry said to Ron harshly, unable to leave it alone, "She would never let something like that stop her from doing the right thing. And you wouldn't either."
Ron sulked and retreated. He knew it but he just wanted something or someone to blame the whole thing on. He shouldn't have had to look further than the person in front of him.
A debate had been raging within him about what to tell Ron. Hermione wanted to keep Ron out of this and he guessed it was because of his newborn twins. But Ron was not stupid and it was only a matter of time before he figured out there was something wrong about the Minister getting the news of her death so quickly. He would definitely think it once he heard about Jean Peverell.
Harry told him.
"Fuck Harry," Ron swore, "That was a long time ago. That alias was blown and dead. She would have been crazy to use that again."
Unless there was an absolute need to. She was after all working with Warren again.
"And why would she need one?"
Perhaps it wasn't so obvious. Would he have thought of it had Hugo not mentioned it?
"I don't know. Maybe she wasn't using it. Maybe the person who wrote it knew her when she was Jane Peverell. We need to speak with Warren."
Warren knew about Jane Peverell. He worked on that case, too.
"That might be difficult. He doesn't like talking with law enforcement nowadays."
And Harry had hoped Ron would know how and be able to get in touch with him. Harry's ex-partner, who at one point was also Hermione's, was not exactly listed in the phone book or attached to any business or government agency to whom he was accountable to. Warren Gates was accountable only to himself and preferred it that way.
But Harry did not think it would be hard to locate him. Last he heard Warren was peddling his Auror skills to whoever could afford him. At least that was the rumour.
"I'll check what we have on him and contact the Canadians if need be," Harry replied.
"We'll ask Hugo in the morning. He might know how to get a hold of him."
Ginny just joined them and headed straight to the counter.
"It took some time but he's finally asleep," she told them as she made more tea, "That poor boy. I've Owled the Headmistress and asked her to excuse James, Al and Lily from classes for the next few days."
"Thanks for doing that," Ron acknowledged, "Having them here would help Rosie and Hugo a lot."
She sat beside Harry and took his hand in hers, squeezing it lightly. He looked at her, saw her concern and immediately felt sorry.
She's trying to help the only way she knows how. You should let her.
He did. He gave her a slight nod and squeezed her hand back, hoping it would reassure her that he was fine. But as he did he looked away sooner than he wanted to, afraid that Ginny could see through the pretense.
"Do you think Leo knew about the Jean Peverell message?" Ron asked.
Harry felt Ginny's body stiffen. She took her hand from his and it was unsteady as she drank her tea.
"Maybe not," Harry lied, thinking that might stall Ron a bit.
"What about Jean Peverell?" Ginny had to ask.
Ron told her as he took a slice of the pie and began eating. Ginny merely nodded.
"I swear to Merlin the longer that git stays in power the less trustworthy he becomes," Ron continued about the Minister in between mouthfuls.
"In all fairness, even if Leo did know he might have forgotten," Harry thought that unlikely, "He might have thought it best not to tell you yet. Maybe he intended to tell you in the morning."
Ron seemed to have accepted that. A pager went off and mercifully it was his.
"I have to go."
"Is it about her?" Ginny asked quicker than Ron did.
"No, it isn't," he replied to them both.
"Are you going to be long?"
Harry sensed that she didn't want him to go, that she wanted to talk about Hermione some more and he really didn't want to. As much as Harry needed to talk with someone that someone could never be Ginny. He couldn't, not when this was about Hermione. Ginny would prefer that he did but it would be cruel and he had already put her through enough to last her a lifetime.
"I'm not sure. Get some sleep. I'll wake you when I get in."
He kissed her on the forehead and left knowing that the chances of her doing as he asked were slim to none.
Harry Disapparated to the Ministry and met up with Hank in the Atrium. The thieves, Bole and Montague, had been found.
They got on the lift.
"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?"
"Just give it to me," he was in no mood.
"The good news is Montague is scared shitless and isn't talking."
"Bole's dead?"
"He killed himself when he got cornered. Said something about how he'd rather not face the Master of Death. And the CFO is pretty pissed about all the dead bodies we've sent her way."
Harry stopped walking and turned to his Deputy.
Master of Death...
"Bodies?"
"You knew Grawp the giant? He got attacked late last night on his way home and that elf who sells the prophet down the Atrium, was found in his house by a relative checking up on him; had been dead for a couple of days. Looks like foul play."
Harry walked away from Hank and went back to the lifts, "Work on Montague. Soften him up. I'll be right back."
"Where are you going?" a very confused Hank stood in the hallway.
"Hogwarts."
"Why?"
"I need to see an old Professor."
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