A/N: Sorry about the wait between chapters, but its gonna become a common theme soon. I'm working a lot, and when I'm not, I'm teaching myself Latin, studying ancient rome, and even trying to have fun every once and again =) I hope all you guys reading and reviewing like the way things are headed, feedback is always well appreciated =) I hope you all like this chapter things are really kicking into high gear now!
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"You sonofabitch!"
Hermione screamed at the man who was at least in part responsible for her best friend's death, lashing out at him in the cold medical ward. The effort proved too much for her, and she soon felt her arms and legs feel heavy, her head dizzy. Despite her fury, Hermione was intelligent enough to realize she'd been drugged.
"I do apologize, for the venenum, but I felt it most appropriate for you to remain calm."
Hermione only glared at the man, venom ready on her tongue and hate teeming from her eyes.
"I do not expect any understanding, nor sympathy, from you; but perhaps I could offer some of my own."
"You have nothing to offer me." She spat, sweat beginning to build upon her brow, Hermione could feel her entire body heating up in anger, and doubted it had anything to do with whatever the venenum might be.
"Quite the contrary," the man replied, conveying no emotion on any spectrum whatsoever, which infuriated Hermione further. "I offer you my condolences, for the passing of your friend."
"You murdered her!" Hermione screeched, frothing at the mouth in want of destroying the man who sat so calm and smug in front of her. Domitian. She would remember the name.
"I most certainly did not," Domitian replied, his tone calm and collected. Calculated. "but she was a necessary sacrifice. For that, I am sorry."
"Bullshit!" She snapped, knowing she was losing her composure but not caring at all. She could feel her limbs relaxing, the drug was kicking in; she probably only had a few minutes of consciousness left. "I suppose now is when you tell me the ends justify the means?"
"Machiavelli was a very intelligent man," the Caesar responded, ignoring her barbs. "sacrifices must be made for the greater good of the people. Miss Lovegood was one such sacrifice. History will remember her as a cataclysmic martyr, a death that spawned a new era of greatness."
Hermione couldn't believe the words that came from the delusional man's mouth. "And I suppose you and your friends fancy yourselves the harbingers of this 'era of greatness?'"
"My colleagues and I," Domitian stated carefully, as if each word held a great significance. "believe an apocalypse is in order. Occasionally you must destroy something, in order to save it."
"Or rebuild it in a way you see fit," Hermione snorted, seeing through his supposed righteousness. "just like all men whom crave power."
"And yet, we crave nothing, Miss Granger," he replied, emotionless, passively, letting the words speak for themselves rather than being forced by a suggestive tone. "we only want to root out the corruption that stains the very essence of your magical world; we seek to annihilate this corruption and replace it with piety -- an everlasting peace for your leaders to govern, while we return to the darkness, until the times call for our return."
The man's words chilled Hermione to the core, as the drugs started to take her over completely, her vision tunneling as darkness poured in, threatening to consume her.
"How does the murder of a virtuous witch, one of the world's most beloved and revered women, contribute to this supposed peace?" Hermione managed, the drugs and emotional grief putting a strain on her voice. "What purpose did it serve?"
Domitian bowed his head towards her. "It brought us together in this moment, as it will bring countless other moments to others in the future. Everything has been predetermined, our blueprint for your society is absolute; there is nothing you can do that will stop us now. Your apocalypse, your destruction, your salvation, is inevitable. One day, should you survive to see it, you shall thank us for what we have given you."
With those words the man disappeared back through the door from whence he came, leaving Hermione in a dizzied state of emotion, confusion, and helplessness as her body succumbed fully to the sedatives, casting her into a long, restless slumber.
***
Tensions were high and moral was low, while the two aurors searched for a medium ground upon which to speak with one another. The past half-dozen master aurors of the last century or so bore disapproving glares into Harry's back from their portraits on the wall around him, but it was with a sense of restraint. How does one punish the man responsible for an entire civilization's survival? How does one forgive a man who's violated everything his agency stands for? Where is a level ground upon which both parties can walk together in harmony?
"I'm sorry," not Harry, but Kingsley said, feeling a legitimate sorrow for the young auror whom had accomplished so much, and experienced so much pain. "for your parents, for the Dursleys, for Cedric, for Sirius, for Cho, for Ernie, for Padma, for Parvati, for Terry, for Susan, and for Luna."
He watched as Harry's face, emotionless and passive, was betrayed by the haunt in his eyes, a pain that grew deeper with each name. His parents, who'd taught him love; the Dursley's, who'd taught him forgiveness; for Cedric, who'd taught him courage; for Sirius, who'd taught him how to be a man; for Cho, who'd taught him happiness; for Ernie, who'd taught him restraint; for the Parvati's, who'd taught him to enjoy life; for Terry, who'd taught him cleverness; for Susan, who'd taught him lawfulness; and for Luna, who'd taught him what it meant to be a great friend. No man should ever have to experience such pain, suffering, and all while under the intense eye of public scrutiny. That intensity would soon become unbearable, should word of tonight's events ever reach the ears of the public.
"As am I," Harry responded, downtrodden. "I have no excuse for my actions tonight sir; I will humbly submit to whatever punishment you deem necessary."
Kingsley sighed, rubbing his eyes as his mind tried to swim through a hurricane of thoughts to find the correct solution. Harry was the best at what he did; there was no doubting that. He was also emotionally compromised; there was no doubting that either. The world's most powerful man consumed by rage was a far more dangerous enemy than that same man as an ally consumed by kindness. And yet Kingsley now found himself in the greatest crisis since Voldemort, he needed his best men.
"I'm afraid I have more bad news Harry," he finally said, skirting the subject for the moment while he tried to coil his mind around what needed to be said. "Miss Granger suffered a panic attack while working in her lab-"
Kingsley held up a hand as Harry shot out of his chair, his face a mixture of grief and alarm. "Not to worry Harry, she is resting now, the doctors say she will be just fine."
"I still need to go see-"
"Sit down, Potter." Kingsley commanded, motioning to Harry's chair. Begrudgingly, Harry slowly lowered himself into his seat, emerald eyes still burning with intensity.
"I apologize sir."
"That's quite alright," Kingsley replied, wishing he could prolong the conversation further and allow himself more time for thought; but that was a luxury he did not have. "I find myself in a rather curious position Harry. You are the best I've got, no question. I need you for this Caesar crisis, no doubts there. But can I trust you to keep your composure?"
Harry took a long time to reply, his expression impossible to read. "I don't know sir."
Pressing his hands together, Kingsley prayed he was making the right decision. "Okay then, here is what we are going to do," Harry looked at him expectantly. "you are hereby removed from active duty until after Miss Lovegood's funeral service, after which time you will be reinstated on a probationary basis. Aurors Giggs and Weasley will retain their positions, I am demoting you to the rank of Class One Auror, effective immediately."
"I understand sir."
"Furthermore, any more outbursts, any derelict of duty or disobeying of orders will subject you to permanent termination from this office and possible threat of court martial. Is that understood?"
"Yes sir."
"Good, now get out of my sight." With those final, stern words Kingsley spun around in his chair and waited for Harry to leave, ignoring his muffled thanks while gazing out his office window into the black of night, hoping the future of the world he loved so much would prove to be much brighter than the sight before him now.
***
"I hope you're making more progress than I am," Ginny told her boyfriend, collapsing in Dean's lap as she did so, and together they laid on the couch in their flat each with a book in hand, Dean's being The Twelve Caesars by Suetonius, and Ginny's Magical History and Spell Creation volume XIV.
"Perhaps," Dean replied, turning from one page to the next, finding the life of Julius Caesar from the perspective of Suetonius to be fascinating. "this is an old history book written way back when the Romans were still in power, it's essentially the life story of each of the first twelve rulers to use the name 'Caesar'"
Ginny nodded in approval. "That's gotta be more helpful than this rubbish," she tossed the book aside and stretched, Dean wrapping one arm around her waist as she did so. "I've found nothing of use in hours of research…I honestly don't think there is anything in the archives that can help us."
Dean opened his mouth to respond before his phone started vibrating on the coffee stand in front of them. Despite Ginny's groans of protest he reached over and swiped it off the table, flipping it open without bothering to check who was calling.
"Yeah mate?"
"It's Seamus."
"You sound awful."
"I am. Another pleb is dead, Harry's been removed from duty, and Hermione had a panic attack and is stuck in Mungo's as we speak."
"Mother of God…"
Realizing something was very wrong -- again -- Ginny shot up off Dean's lap at full attention. "Put him on speaker."
Doing so, Seamus continued for both of them to hear. "Kingsley promoted Giggs to Head Auror and Ron is his number two," Ginny gasped. "we're all meeting at Mungo's to check on Hermione and have a brainstorm. Be there in twenty."
The line went dead before they could even say goodbye. The couple spent a moment looking at each other in disbelief.
"A week ago we were untouchable," Ginny said, shaking her head and pulling at her hair in frustration. "now we've lost Luna, Harry's been removed from service, and Hermione is in the hospital; and we have about as much knowledge of the people doing this to us now as we did then."
"Well wallowing in self-pity and despair will get us nowhere Gin," Dean said, rising to his feet and beginning to look around for his wand. "let's get to the hospital and figure out what we're gonna do next."
***
Twenty minutes later the couple occupied the saddest hospital room in all of Mungo's. Hermione still slept on her bed, chest rising and falling slowly. Harry sat closest to her side, resting his elbows on the bed with his head in his hands, no doubt blaming himself for Hermione's predicament. Neville was a few feet away, his face impassive, almost as if the emotions of the past few days had drained him of his capacity for emotion altogether. Seamus stood with his back against the wall wearing an angry scowl; twice now he'd inadvertently been responsible for the deaths of wizards during interrogation. Dean and Ginny sat side-by-side on the floor, waiting for Hermione to wake up. Ron appeared the calmest of the bunch, his eyes burning with resolve.
No one spoke for a long, uneasy fifteen minutes before Hermione finally awoke, her eyelids fluttering open like the wings of a butterfly, her soft groans of morning discomfort music to the concerned ears of her friends.
"Hermione!"
"Harry…" She responded, smiling at the heroic wizard, looking far more the concerned friend than the terrifying savage he'd been just a few hours before. Their heart-felt moment was shattered when she suddenly bolted upright in her bed, remembering her conversation with the Caesar.
"Harry! I met one of them, he was here!"
"What!? When? How?"
Hermione had the full attention now of everyone in the room. "I don't know, a few hours ago," she gazed into the distance, trying to recall the conversation. "his name was…Domitian, he said."
"Really?" Dean interjected, suddenly very interested. "Domitian was the last of the twelve Caesars…written about in a book I found at the local store."
"Coincidence?"
"Let's hope so," Ron said, speaking what was dawning on the minds of the rest. "because if there is a correlation, that would mean we are dealing with an organization comprised of twelve leaders."
"He claimed that…" she still found it a struggle to say the words, even now a few days after the fact. "…that Luna's murder was a necessary evil, that in time she would be recognized as a 'cataclysmic martyr.'"
"Well that's an interesting perspective." Neville commented, tongue dripping with sarcasm.
"There's more, he…he said that an apocalypse is coming, and that the events are already in motion; there's nothing we can do to stop it."
"That would be mildly disturbing." Seamus commented, his own unique wit still shining through despite the circumstances.
"And also, that his organization, they don't crave power," all but Harry in the room snorted. "but rather they want to destroy corruption, reinstate justice, and slink back into the shadows until they are needed again."
"Interesting," Ginny said, before allowing Hermione to continue.
"He said the apocalypse, and our subsequent salvation apparently, was inevitable. He's mad. He thinks he is doing the world a favor."
"Why are the insane ones always the most intelligent?" Seamus wondered allowed, obviously not happy with the information.
"Anyways," Ron interjected, keeping everyone on subject. "What are we going to do about it?"
"What can we do?" Harry finally spoke, surprising everyone in the room. "Look at what they've accomplished -- Luna's dead, I've been demoted, Hermione's been incapacitated; and all of us are clueless as to what these guys have planned for us next."
Nobody said anything after that, what could they say? Silence dominated the room for a prolonged period of time before Ron spoke up again. "Well, perhaps this isn't the best thing to be doing right now."
"What?"
"Brainstorming. Thinking, scheming, planning. None of this is going to be beneficial while we're all still reeling from Luna's murder. I think we should take some time off, grieve on our own, and after Luna's funeral Friday we get back together and figure out what can be done with clear minds -- they want us to plan under duress, scheme without the full use of our brains. We need to be emotionally stable before we can hope to counteract against these men whom have obviously planned this out a long while in advance."
It was as if the hot-tempered, fiery young boy had finally grown up right before all their eyes. Through the years, Ron had matured and become a very formidable wizard, both physically and intellectually. And now is when they needed him more than ever; with everything that had gone wrong in the past week, Ron was the only one of them who'd had something go right.
He was the leader now.