A/N: Who turned up the kill temperature?
Chapter XIII: To Ignite a Spark
"You won't believe what I found last night," Harry said bitterly to Ron as the two best friends conversed the following morning over coffee.
"Another dead criminal?" Ron asked rhetorically.
"Well, not quite. I got two of them, but they're sitting in the interrogation cells downstairs."
"Really?" Ron was surprised this time. "Who are they?"
"No clue," Harry shrugged. "but there were more of them. I have a feeling it may have something to do with the case we were assigned. That weird group nobody knows anything about...the one behind all the attacks in recent months."
"Those assholes killed women and children," Ron's expression hardened.
"Let's go down, we might be able to get something out of them."
"Fine," Ron shrugged. We need some progress."
The two best friends went down to the lowest corridor in the building and down to interrogation cell F.
"You go in G, I'll take care of this one," Harry said.
"Sounds good."
The paralyzing spells were lifted off his prisoner, but he was still effectively restrained. Harry stood in the darkness before him for several seconds to create the desired psychological effect and then put his hand on top of the desk lamp to his left. He turned the light right into the prisoner's face.
"You have two choices," he began. "One, you tell me everything you know. Two, you will still do the same, aside from the fact that I will make you wish you were never born."
The practiced chillness of his voice cooled the very air in the room, but his quarry did not flinch.
"I will not divulge anything," came the stout reply.
Harry did not reply. Instead, he took out his wand and flicked it at him. The man suddenly flew upwards from his chair, crashed into the ceiling roughly and right before he fell back down on the floor, he stopped suspended in mid-air.
"You might have read," Harry began again, "how in previous centuries murderers and their accomplices were publicly hung for their crimes. I need not tell you where this is going, should you choose not to cooperate."
"I have no family to speak of," the man gasped, leering while struggling against the invisible restraint around his neck.
"What do you call yourself?"
"I am an Unspeakable."
"What - "
To his unpleasant surprise, the man suddenly burst into bright flames completely spontaneously.
"Holy -"
Within moments, all that remained was a smouldering pile of ash on the floor. Harry reeled backward, trying to fathom what might have caused this. Even in his experience, nothing like this had ever happened.
"Shit! Harry!"
"Ron!"
Both of them ran out into the hall, wide eyed and out of breath.
"He just - burned alive," Ron imitated flames with his hands. "I - I don't know."
"The same happened to mine," Harry glanced back into his chamber.
"Who are these guys?"
"Got me," Harry tensed up. "Must be some new suicide spell, and I haven't seen suicide spells in fifteen years."
"Yeah, but I can't remember any that end with burning oneself alive!" Ron raised his voice.
"Did you manage to get any information out of yours?"
Ron closed his eyes for a moment. "He said he was an Unspeakable."
"That's what mine said," Harry noted the coincidence.
"It doesn't help us at all," Ron told him. "We're right back where we started."
"I wonder why they didn't burn up when I captured them."
"Don't be so thick, Harry," Ron's patience was wearing thin again. "There has to be a trigger, and being paralyzed does not exactly help the cause!"
"Calm down, damn it," Harry was beginning to work himself up again. "I want to ask Hermione what she thinks about this."
"There's no time for that, Harry," Ron was becoming increasingly forceful. "those two bastards almost turned to a crisp! We have to act!"
"And what do you propose we do," Harry elevated his own voice.
Ron did not have a response.
"I thought so," Harry dismissed him. "I'm going to talk it over with Hermione."
"Don't say I didn't warn you," Ron answered darkly.
"Look, I'm going to take the day off and talk to her about all this. Can you handle the office?"
"Sure, mate," Ron said. "On one condition."
"What?"
"I take tomorrow off. I think this has me more rattled than you."
"That's a deal. All right, come on by tonight, I will let you know if we figure out anything."
"Will do, Harry," Ron acknowledged him. "Take it easy."
In the elevator to the lobby, he wondered who these new Unspeakables were. They seemed even more dangerous and radical than Vodlemort's Death Eaters from years ago. The doors opened and he stepped into the main area of the Ministry.
"Leaving so early, Mr. Potter?" the attractive receptionist inquired of him with a suggestive smile.
"Yes, Brittany, I've got another assignment," Harry told her. "Have yourself a nice day."
"You too, Mr. Potter," she waved her goodbyes enthusiastically. "Yes, how can I help you?" she turned to the man at the front of the desk immediately after.
Harry walked out into the street and into his Volkswagen. Firing up the engine, he pulled from the curb and drove towards his home in downtown London.
"Hey, love," Hermione greeted him as he opened the front door.
"Hi, Hermione," he embraced and kissed her when she came up to him. "How are you?"
"Good," Hermione said. "And what about you?"
"I needed the day off," Harry explained. "Something happened at work."
"Are you hurt?" concern immediately defined Hermione's expression.
"No, no, I'm fine," he allayed her fears. "It's more of a shock than anything else."
"Really? You want to talk about it?"
"With you, yeah," he nodded. "I need your opinion."
"Alright. What happened?"
"These two suspects who I captured last night, Ron and I were supposed to go interrogate them this morning, and we did..."
He stopped midsentence. "Did you find out anything useful?" Hermione helped him along.
"No," Harry shook his head. "Instead, he burst into flame, completely out of nowhere, and almost burned me in the process."
"He combusted by himself?" she raised an eyebrow.
"Yes," he affirmed. "All that was left was a pile of ash."
"Oh, my," Hermione's eyes widened. "That's definitely a magical fire, if it burned that powerful. Was there smoke?"
"None," Harry shrugged. "I found that really odd."
"It sounds like a self-incineration spell. That's only experimental magic, you know, and if they managed to do it on the spot..."
"The same thing happened to Ron," Harry continued. "He's taking the day tomorrow..."
"This was standard procedure for them, then."
"Yeah, but who could possibly have access to such magic?"
"Some select wizards in the Department of Mysteries," Hermione recalled, "but nobody else I'm aware of, until now. Did you manage to record their names?"
"No," Harry's frustration surfaced. "All they said was that they were Unspeakables."
"The Unspeakables," Hermione turned the word over in her mind. "I can't recall anyone with that epitaph for a name."
Harry sighed impatiently. "Damn it. I was hoping you knew something."
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint," her voice held a mild note of offense.
"No, no, I didn't mean it that way," Harry quickly apologized. "We lost an Auror in the field when I captured those two human torches. Not having anything to justify his death is really bothering me."
"Vindication will come, Harry, in one way or another," Hermione said. "Fate has a way of working that way."
"Fate is the last thing on my mind now," he paced around nervously.
**
"You almost risked discovery, you pathetic excuses for worthless scum!"
Mihailov was particularly angry for having to lose two men, because of their unwise decision to engage Harry.
"Dorchester, tell me what we uncovered last night!" he pinched the bridge of his nose from frustration.
"We killed an Auror, sir," the Unspeakable in question replied promptly.
"This is not the answer I was looking for, Dorchester," Mihailov fought to keep his voice steady. "We accomplished nothing! Nothing!" he finally lost his composure. "Can someone tell me what I am going to tell Kamm about this?"
"Sir?"
"What!"
"We can use the Auror's death as the objective of the mission."
"Crucio!"
The disobedient servant fell to the floor, writhing in pain. "You will not speak out of turn!"
Mihailov ignored his writhing and sunk back in thought. The two who were captured were hardly more than a pile of ashes now, so he was not worried any information had been released. Tonight he was supposed to gather intelligence on what Harry Potter was planning to do, or some hint of what he was doing. He did not expect him to be on his own training mission with rookie Aurors, he was expecting an experienced team of himself and someone else to talk about his attack on the house and conjecture on who did it!
"Welcome back," Jones' booming voice startled him out of his reverie. "Herr wants to see you!"
"Shite," Mihailov swore under his breath. "Now? I'm in the middle of grilling these idiots."
"Now," Jones nodded with a smirk. "I sincerely hope you don't come out of there alive."
"I'll see to it those words bite your arse tomorrow," Mihialov promised him humourlessly. "Watch these failures for me, will you?"
"No problem."
Mihailov left the premises and turned left down the hall. Talking to Kamm directly was always an unnerving experience and he liked it less and less each time he was forced to do it.
"Enter," came the icy voice when he knocked on the door.
He pushed it open and walked in.
"Valeriy, welcome," Kamm greeted him pleasantly, but the voice was devoid of all warmth.
"Good evening, Sir," Mihailov bowed with the utmost respect.
"I have summoned you to ask for the details pertaining to your mission the previous evening."
The exactness, directness and coldness with which this man treated his entrusted inferiors terrified even a hard man like Mihailov.
"What would you like to know about it, Sir?"
"I am familiar with the objectives of the mission. I want to hear the results."
"The mission was a failure, Sir," Mihailov managed as calmly as he could. Despite keeping his eyes to the floor, he could see Kamm's fist clenching.
"While this was not a mission of particular consequence, you do understand my disappointment," Kamm commented needlessly.
"Yes, Sir."
"Continue."
Mihailov took a deep breath to calm his nerves. "I was expecting Potter to be with another Auror of his rank. This is a weakness in the Auror structure, where such a combination may provide useful information to a well-concealed spy. Instead, it turned out to be a training mission, much like our own."
"Our informant at the Ministry provided the location sufficiently well?"
"Yes, Sir," Mihailov quickly nodded.
"Go on."
"Two of my team broke to engage the two accompanying Aurors. They managed to kill one, but were subsequently captured by Potter. However, I have received confirmation of their deaths, which means no sensitive information was compromised."
"This means there are three more left in your direction?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Crucio!"
The pain hit Mihailov like a thousand stabbing knives. He cried out, collapsed on the floor and writhed in agony. His mind and body were screaming, begging for mercy, as the pain increased exponentially..
It stopped as suddenly as it began. Mihailov was drenched in sweat, breathing heavily and certain his life had just been shortened by a few years. He tried to sit up, still shaking and attempting to look up at his leader.
"I hope you understand my disappointment, Valeriy. Do ensure failure does not happen again," Herr Kamm told him in the same frigid, indifferent tone.
"Y-y-yes, S-s-s-i-r-r," Mihailov could not quite form a coherent reply from the shock.
"You may go."
Rising unsteadily to his feet, he turned around and walked into the hallway as best as he could manage.
"What in the hell happened to you?" Jones raised an eyebrow. He was not standing too far down the corridor.
"The fucking pain curse," Mihailov muttered abrasively. "Don't fail."
"You'll be fine," Jones clapped him on the back, but Mihialov winced involuntarily. "Nothing a good night's sleep can't fix."
"You expect me to sleep after that," Mihailov restated rhetorically. "Are my idiots still in one piece?"
"Yeah, they're fine," Jones answered. "You still have to train them, you know."
"I wish they would all burn themselves alive right now," Mihailov smiled grimly.
"You and me both. They're hopeless," Jones agreed, as the two of them made a right turn towards the room.
**
"You're missing Transfiguration, you know," Otto commented, observing Jane's defiant gaze.
"If you fail, I fail," she repeated for the umpteenth time.
"Mate, she's broken," he turned to Regulus, "can you fix her?"
"I'm not part of this," Regulus raised his hands. "You got yourself in it."
Even if he still held firm, Jane's pestering was really beginning to eat at Otto.
"Fine," he told her. "I'm not going to fail. I never have and I don't intend to start now; but I'm not as smart as you, and I'm content with doing about as much as I need to pass. You, on the other hand, are an astronomical nerd."
"See, I can change you," Jane smiled triumphantly.
"Nope," Otto corrected her confidently. "I'm not going to fail. That's the promise you wanted me to make."
"But you're a slacker!" she protested.
"Exactly," he agreed, "and you take yourself too seriously."
She was not amused. "No, I do not!"
"Yes, you do. Mate?"
"He's right," Regulus did not look up from his book.
"You're supposed to agree with me!"
"Mhhm," Regulus merely turned the page.
"Fine. Let me know when you realize your defeat," Jane maintained her defiance to Otto. "I'm out of here."
"Wait."
She faced him impatiently, but certainly did not expect him getting to his feet, snaking his hand around her waist and pulling her in for a mind-blowing kiss.
Then he let her go, held her eyes for a few seconds and sat back down.
"Let me know when you want to surrender," he smirked on his own turn.
She was too shell-shocked to form an adequate response. "Mhhm." With that, she drifted out of the common room, as if walking on air....
"Good job," Regulus glanced over the top of his book. "About time you wrapped it up."
"You owe me ten galleons."
"Fine, I'll give `em to you," Regulus dismissed him. "Let's just wait until tomorrow."
"You can't deny you lost," Otto pressed. "I'll be waiting for my money."
"You'll get them, don't worry," Regulus turned another page. "Have you seen Albus?"
"Not since the morning," Otto shrugged. "Said he had something to do in the library."
"Albus?" Regulus cocked an eyebrow.
"Let's go check it out."
Unwillingly, Regulus stood up. "Why don't you just go? I have to finish this chapter on reversing hexes."
"You can finish that later," Otto said. "And stop sounding like Jane."
Regulus muttered something under his breath, dropped the book on the couch chair and followed Otto out of the portrait hole.
Albus was indeed to be found in the library, concentrating over a voluminous tome and writing excerpts from it on a piece of parchment.
"Looking mighty busy, mate," Regulus commented as he and Otto came up behind him.
Albus nearly jumped. "Ah, you bastard!"
"Hello to you, too."
"Sit down," Albus flicked his wand and the two chairs opposite him reversed.
Otto and Regulus followed up with the request and sat down. "What are you working on?" Regulus asked.
"I think I found the location of one of the ingredients we need for the werewolf cure," Albus said. "But it's going to be - "
"Incredibly dangerous to get it," Regulus finished for him. "Where is it?"
Albus looked at him quizzically. "Carpathian Mountains. There's a clan of trolls guarding it."
"Why would a clan of trolls be guarding such a thing...what is it?"
"Edelwiess," Albus explained, consulting the text as he did so. "The flower is one of three crucial ingredients."
"So we have to go to Russia for this," Otto said.
"No, Romania," Albus corrected him.
"I knew that," Otto rebuffed him.
"Of course," Albus said. "Now, the question is how we're going to get there."
"Apparate, ride a broom, mind-control someone into giving us plane tickets?" Otto fired off a number of suggestions.
"Or we could ask McGonagall for help," Albus said. "Fairly sure we can Floo to the Romanian Ministry of Magic."
"That's possible," Regulus rejoined. "How difficult can a bunch of mountain trolls be to deal with?"
"Hello."
Andromeda's voice interrupted the discussion the three boys were having. Holly was standing beside her.
"Hey, there," Regulus turned to her. "When did you come?"
"We've been here the whole time," she explained. "I'm surprised you didn't see us."
"Did you see her?" Regulus turned to Otto.
"No, no I didn't."
"Typical," Andromeda rolled her eyes. `What are you all doing here?"
"I'm telling these two gits about the edelwiess flower," Albus explained the gathering.
"Isn't that used in the Wolfsbane potion?" Andromeda checked her memory.
"Yes. It's also part of the curing potion."
"We need to go to Romania to get it," Otto pointed out timely.
"Right," Regulus looked at him.
"Well, we ought to talk to McGonagall," Holly offered a shy opinion.
"You can do that," Andromeda said, "but first I want to talk to my parents."
"Hold on," Regulus put up his hand. "Your parents know my parents. Do you know what they're going to do to me if they find out I'm a werewolf?"
"I don't want to imagine," Andromeda replied. "But whose fault is that?" she asked rhetorically.
Regulus' jaw hardened. "I didn't choose to be mauled by a werewolf."
"No," she agreed with a note of sourness.
"Excuse me a moment," Regulus turned to the others. "You're coming with me."
He grabbed Andromeda by the arm and dragged her to one corner of the library, between several bookshelves where they could not be overheard. She tried to resist the whole way, but went with him nonetheless.
"What's wrong with you!" he snapped. "Why do you have to fight me on every turn?"
"That's just who I am," she challenged him. "Get used to it."
"No," he refused. "Tell me what's wrong with you!"
"Look who's fighting now," she said.
"That's not the point," he told her icily. "That werewolf could have killed me. You admitted you were worried about me!"
"So?" she tried to sound careless.
He could see her resolve starting to crumble, but did not let her go. He kept his eyes locked on hers.
"Tell me what's going on."
"I can't," she shook her head.
"Why?"
"Imagine what my parents will do to me when they find out you're a werewolf," she said.
"The most your dad will do is forbid you from seeing me," Regulus replied quickly. "He's not here, he can't do anything else."
"He's an Auror. What if the Ministry finds out? They won't stop at anything to incarcerate you."
"McGonagall will never tell them," Regulus had another answer ready immediately.
"How do you suppose we're going to go to Romania without them knowing?" Andromeda raised a fair point, one which Regulus had to admit escaped his attention.
"We don't tell them," he maintained his defiance.
"I think you forget who our parents are," she said. "Your mom and my mom are really, really close.
They're both in the espionage division of the Auror Department. If they have any way of finding what you and I are
doing, they know it."
"Fine, fine," he conceded. "What's your idea, then?"
"We have to come clean," she explained. "Tell them everything. Otherwise we can't hope to do anything about it by ourselves."
"OK, you're right," he acknowledged her, "but that doesn't answer my original question."
"What question?" she played unaware.
"Why are you being a prat with me every chance you get? I think we already went over this."
"My dad has the power to keep you away from me," she looked down, "and at the same time I have to be completely honest with him."
"You underestimate him," Regulus reasoned with her. "He'll understand."
"He has no problem locking you up until you're cured," she protested.
"Well, that could only take a few months..."
"Do you really think I can last even a few months like that!" she raised her voice ever so slightly above library limits.
That moment of vulnerability really impressed Regulus. He took a moment to reply.
"No," his tone sobered immediately. Then he embraced her tightly. "But I do promise you, you won't have to suffer alone. I know it's tough, but we'll see it through."
"You promise?"
"I do. Now can we please go back to being friends?"
"No."
"What! But you said - "
Her lips on his silenced any further protest he had to make.
A moment later, she pulled away. "Not just friends."
A/N: Ooh. Steamy.
-->