Chapter Thirty-Five: The Rat
"Professor Krieg," McGonagall gently pushed open the cracked door to his office. He was working busily at his desk.
"Evening, Headmistress," Krieg answered without looking to her. McGonagall took a few cautious steps in and stopped, watching him carefully. She closed the door.
"Pardon the interruption," she eventually went on as Krieg showed no further sign of acknowledgment. She was not herself this night, tired and worn, she looked her age. "I was expecting a report... I've spoken with Kingsley, but I've yet to see Harry."
"I'm sure the Minister filled you on the important details," Krieg responded shortly.
"Hans!" she was a taken aback by his brevity and shrewdness, but still, he offered her nothing more. Instead, he finished the letter he was penning, folded it, and slid it into a crisp envelope. Melting the tip of a stick of crimson wax in the candle on his desk, he sealed it with his stamp.
"This little operation of yours is beyond protocol, and against my better judgment, I allowed you to proceed. I would at the least, expect you to-" but McGonagall's short speech was ground to a halt as Krieg abruptly stood, walking about his desk, and handed his letter to her.
"What is this?" she barked at him, turning it over in her hands.
"My resignation," Krieg revealed to an alarmed gasp from the Headmistress. "It has been a pleasure, but I am afraid my duties now call me elsewhere."
"Your resignation?!" McGonagall guffawed. "But... You can't - Harry!" she grew angry. Like it or not, Krieg had performed wonders on preparing Harry for what she knew he still had to face, and the training could not be interrupted now. But as she studied his eyes, she realized this resignation was not so simple. "What has happened? Where is Harry?" she rattled off the two questions in quick succession.
"I agreed to come to Hogwarts to help with Harry's instruction. I have achieved my assignment to the best of my abilities, in the time that I was allowed."
"In the time..." McGonagall felt herself grow weak.
"It has begun. Harry has left Hogwarts," Krieg dropped the bombshell. McGonagall was left stunned.
"Why did you not stop him?! Or tell me sooner?! Where has he gone?!" she was rambling, pushing at the borders of frantic.
"The girl, Hermione Granger, has gone missing. Harry believes that whoever has been after him, has kidnapped her," the second shoe fell. McGonagall's blood turned to ice - she froze.
"Harry has a lead. I've helped him follow up on it. Ron Weasley, and another girl by the name of Ginger Laywell are traveling with him. The elder Weasleys, as well as Hermione Granger's parents, have been put under Auror protection while this plays out. This is being kept top secret, should Harry's attackers lift their heads, we'll be ready for them."
McGonagall could only blink as she let this all process. Things were propelling out of her control. Krieg and Shacklebolt had out maneuvered her. Harry was not yet ready. She still had to...
"The Minister has requested that I help Harry with whatever powers that I still possess, and that is my intention from here on out. A second team has been dispatched to India to see if we can uncover any further clues as to who is behind this. I myself will be departing for London immediately, to look into the rumors spreading there."
McGonagall had yet to so much as nod her head.
"Harry has reason to believe Mundungus Fletcher has knowledge as to what happened to the Granger girl. He has gone for him." Still, nothing from McGonagall. "Minerva..." Krieg's tone softened, sounding near pleading. "I have not known the boy for as long as you, but I do care for Harry. I understand he is grave danger, and I will do everything in my ability to assist him in this endeavor, but this is inevitable, I need your help now, as does Harry, and not by trying to shelter him here. We are operating blindly at the moment, whatever knowledge you have been holding on to..."
The fire that suddenly lit in McGonagall's tired eyes stopped Krieg cold. She took a deep breath, swelling out her chest as she drew herself up to her full height. "If it is time, then so be it," she alluded, without Krieg truly understanding her meaning. "Allow me to inform Professor Flitwick of my absence, and I will accompany you to London. I will tell you what you need to know, and Harry... we must find him. I must speak with him before he is confronted by those monsters once again!"
. . . .
Piner's Pint. It was no more than to be expected. A right, run down little joint, sandwiched between two ghetto muggle apartment buildings. He entered casually, ignoring the growing number of heads turning to watch him as he made his way to the bar. None could recognize him with his hood up and shadow across his face, never mind the heavy cloud of smoke hanging in the air.
"Whatcha be havin'?" the bar keep asked him gruffly as he slid atop an empty stool. The patron next to him was currently bent over the bar, seemingly battling great bout of depression, mumbling drunkenly to himself.
"Never mind him," the bar tender caught his glance. "He's no trouble, just enjoys his Firewhiskey."
The drunk next to him looked a mess. He'd obviously been on a several day drinking binge, with sullen, blood shot eyes, a strong body odor radiating off his burgundy suit, and wore what had to be a two week old beard.
"Firewhiskey," the mysterious wizard ordered the same.
The one he happened to sit next to lifted his slumped head to glimpse at his new neighbor, before dropping it back down. It took a moment for everything to register, but upon a double take, he immediately began trembling atop his stool.
"Heh... Har - Har-" he choked before toppling right over, falling on his arse upon the floor.
"Oi! You alright there, Dung?!" the bar keep startled. A slight commotion stirred about the bar to see what had happened, but the newcomer did not so much as spare him a glance, as he awaited his ordered drink, and took a deep swig upon its arrival.
"That's it, enough for you, you ol' sodden fool!" the bar tender shouted at him as the fallen wizard scooted away nervously, back on his hands and rump in a crab crawl. His eyes were glued fearfully on the one at the bar, as if expecting him to turn and strike at him at any moment. Halfway to the door, the near convulsing wizard scrambled up onto his feet before darting for the door.
"Hey! Where the 'ell yeh think yer gettin' off to, you scoundrel! You're tab!" the bar keep cursed at the retreating wizard. The one at the bar smiled victoriously into his glass, taking one last sip as he heard the retreating wizard whelp on his way out the door. He'd hit the trap.
Tossing down several coin, more than enough to cover his own drink and the tab of the other, he thanked the bar keep as he bid farewell.
"Say, we don' want any trouble around here," the keep started, reaching for his wand, but the newcomer was already at the door, and he was distracted by all the galleons left at the bar.
The night was cool and overcast. "Evening, Fletcher," he looked up at the dangling wizard, held magically by one leg up in the air, swaying like a pendulum just outside the door.
"'Arry! Imagine runnin' inta ya here!" Mundungus croaked as tried to sound as cheery as he could muster. Two more came out of the shadows from across the street and hurried their way.
"Imagine..." Harry said solemnly as he reached into Mundungus's cloak, retrieving the hanging wizard's wand. I single tap to the forehead, and all went black for ol' Fletcher.
. . . .
"Wha'... eh... curses!" Fletcher squelched his face up nastily, pulling away from the foul smell of the Sewer Salts being wafted below his nose.
"Hey! Not bad!" Ron looked back over his shoulder at his best mate. "I'll have to let George know they work like a charm!" Harry's face remained un-telling. "Well... I guess they are charmed?" Ron chuckled as he moved out the way.
"Har-Harry?!" Mundungus finally recovered his senses. "And - and Weasley! Blessed, I thought I'd been..." he started, but trailed off as his eyes landed on the gorgeous red headed goddess behind them, leaning against the far wall. "G-Ginger?" he gulped heavily. This was not a cordial visit.
He began to struggle a bit, only to find that his wrists and ankles had been Troll Taped to the chair he was in, but as he failed to question his own arrest, this evidence was just as damning as any words he could have spoken.
"Eh... I think there has been som' kinda mix up, lads..." he struggled in earnest, but unless he suddenly sprouted the strength of a giant, he wasn't going anywhere. He was careful to avoid Ginger's mutinous glare.
"Shut it, you ol' goat!" Ron spat at him. "You've got some explaining to do!" he raised his fist.
"Me?!" Mundungus blanched. "Certainly... no! There's - there's been a mix up I - I'm afraid..." his voice became pitched with fear. "B-but, n-no harm, n-no foul... I can f-forget this w-whole thing..." he twisted in his seat, attempting a failed chuckle at the end.
"I told you to shut it! We haven't forgot the last run in with you!" Ron referenced the run-in they had with him at Grimmauld during the war. It was on Harry, however, that Mundungus's eyes were trained. He'd never seen... eyes quite like that before. He was ready to piss his pants beneath those damning green orbs.
Without having yet uttered a word, Harry stood and turned, walking smoothly to a table Mundungus had yet to notice.
"S-surely... yeh can't still be... I - I can get yeh the g-gold..." Mundungus croaked.
"This is not about the loot you stole from my dead Godfather, Fletcher," Harry's voice was low, uncommonly steady and monotone considering the circumstances. Mundungus swallowed hard. "But, I have not forgotten your treacherous ways," Harry reminded him. With his back to them all, Harry reached up to unfold the front of his robes, allowing them to fall from his shoulders and crumple to the floor below.
"Dear god, man!" Mundungus balked with absolute revulsion. Even Ron and Ginger flinched at the ghastly sight of Harry's deeply cut and scarred back. "What in Merlin's name?!"
"A gift from your friend," Harry's depressed voice could hardly be heard. Ron took a step towards him, reaching out a hand, feeling the need to console Harry in some way. This... his back, it was terrible, he'd had no idea what Harry had gone through, and it scared him just as much as it did Mundungus, but a cutting glance from Ginger stopped him. She shook her head. Now was not the time - he had to stick to the plan.
"Friend?! No, Harry! No friend of mine!" Mundungus began bucking in his seating, scrambling for some chance of escape.
"You sold me out," Harry's voice was still calm. Too calm for Mundungus's comfort, and the scoundrel froze.
"Me?! No - never Harry! Honest's truth!" Mundungus bemoaned, but choked to silence at the sound of metal scraping across metal o the table. Harry raised a long, ten inch blade into the air, studying it carefully.
"Liar."
"No - no Harry, you've got to believe me! I helped you! I got those passports for you, remember?!"
"Yes, you did," Harry turned to him with an unamused, menacing glare in his eye. "And you sent him right after me."
"Him?!" Mundungus balked. "How - how could I?! I didn't know you were in Australia!"
"Australia indeed," Harry sneered deviously at the scared wizard as he paced towards him, knife in hand. Mundungus unwittingly glanced towards Ginger. There was no use.
Bare chested, Harry's body was hard, his muscles chiseled by days spent in the quarry at Dakhal, his veins pulsing with vengeance of Duma, his eyes set with a purpose by Hermione, and the scars of his body threatening that he would not feel the slightest remorse for those unable to stomach the touch of pain.
"Huh?!" Mundungus realized his own error. "No... I didn't know! I couldn't have Harry!" he tried desperately to keep up the lie. "I swore he meant no harm!"
"But you did," Harry reached him, slowly moving the silvery blade before his face. "And harm was done."
"No..." words abated him, as his eyes locked onto the approaching knife.
"There are ways to get the information I want," Harry's eyes glanced over his shoulder to the table beyond. Mundungus's followed to an assortment of other menacing looking contraptions. "But..." Harry's cold eyes turned back to the shrunken wizard, "I would prefer to do this without all the theatrics of blood and guts."
Mundungus forgot how to speak, his mouth bobbing like a fish out of water, as Harry raked the blade of the knife across the stubble on Mundungus's cheek, winding the edge down to his unprotected neck. Ron and Ginger shifted uncomfortably.
"Harry... please..." Mundungus begged, speaking so weakly it came out more like a mouse's squeak. Ginger had to nudge Ron, prodding him into action. He'd forgotten what he was supposed to be doing.
"H-Harry..." Ron stepped forward. "I'm sure this is just some mistake. The rat probably didn't know what he was doing. I'm sure he'll tell us all he knows," Ron played his part as the good cop.
"Y-yeah!" Mundungus grabbed hold of this. "W-whatever you want to know!" he sang imploringly.
Harry traced the knife along, bringing its sharp point up into the softness below Mundungus's chin. "He's got Hermione, Fletcher..." the admission took every ounce of strength Harry had. "If you don't tell me, I'll kill you," he threatened without pause.
"Her - Her - Hermione?!" Mundungus squawked. With this revelation, he knew his danger was all too real. He could see it in Harry's cold, pitiless eyes. "W-who Harry?! I'll help you find her! I can help, Harry!" Mundungus now started literally pissing his own pants, the dampness soaking straight through.
"Where has he taken her?" Ron came up beside Harry, staring down at Mundungus.
"H-how would I know?!" Mundungus shrunk back.
"Hmm," Harry pushed the blade against him harder, soliciting a tiny bead of blood. "Told you there is only one way," Harry spoke to Ron.
"Don't Harry! We need him alive!" Ron went on playing his part, but it wasn't exactly hard to do. He was scared himself, worried Harry might actually be intent on doing it.
"Honest, Harry! I don't know much!"
"What do you know?!" Ron shouted at him. "And by Merlin, you'd better hurry and be out with it!"
"T-there was this wizard!" Mundungus cried. "He paid me to find out where you were?! He's been paying many a lad! As soon as I caught wind what had happened, I swore him off! Honest I did, Harry! You've got to believe me!" Mundungus started crying like a frightened child. Harry searched his watering eyes for the longest time.
"You've got seconds, Fletcher. You'd better have something for me..." Harry let the threat linger.
"Come on, Fletcher, who's side are you on, anyways?!" Ron prompted him.
Mundungus twisted in his seat, trying to pull his head and neck away from the blade. "I - Rookwood! Lestrange!" Mundungus cried aloud. "I don't know! They're just rumors! I told you, I got myself out as soon as I heard he meant you harm, Harry!"
"That's better," Harry said calmly amongst the storm, though forcing the blade ever harder against Mundungus's throat. "And who is he? Who is behind all this?"
"I don't know, Harry!" Mundungus wailed, wetting his trousers further. "No one does! He never gives a name! Never got a good look at him!" he went on whelping like a wounded animal, though Harry'd yet to harm him.
"How did he contact you?" the questions continued.
"Owl!" Mundungus belched. "Owl's all!"
"Where did you meet him?" Ron chimed in.
"I don't know?! Different places - pubs mainly! Knockturn Alley! Peddler's Jig! Penniless Pestules! Grim's Keep!" he went on spouting off every place he could think of. "I ain't seen hide nor hair of him in months, Harry, honest to Merlin I ain't!"
"What does he want with Hermione, with Harry?!" Ron questioned him next, hitting him from all sides.
"I - I can't!" he pleaded, but they weren't giving in. Harry dug the blade in further. "It was... it was something to do with - with a wa... a wah..." Mundungus struggled to speak, as if something was holding him back. But just like that, the blade was gone. All three sets of eyes turned to Harry with confusion as he turned his back to them.
"What wand?" Harry spoke the word Mundungus could not finish, the threat was gone from his voice. He sounded defeated.
"I..." Mundungus was bewildered, looking to Ron first, who in turn grimaced at him.
"Answer him!"
"He'll - he'll kill me..." Mundungus protested, though the fight in him had dissipated as well. Ron looked as if he might slug him one.
"In case you hadn't noticed, I don't see anyone around here who's about to kill you, but Harry. If you want our help..."
Mundungus's head fell as he went slack in his seat.
"Girls, power, glory, damn them all... I've always had a fancy for gold," he chuckled a little under his breath to himself. "He gave me lots of gold..." Mundungus started what sounded like the beginning to a tale, speaking in a whisper, his voice soft yet resolved. Ron had to lean in to hear him. "All the gold I could swim in... not that it did me much use," he slewed. "I'm no traitor!" his head suddenly sprang back up, looking to Harry as he studied the boy's scars.
"You'll get him, won't you Harry?" Mundungus asked with certain zeal, in an apparent about face. Harry did not turn, but gave a single nod. "He put a curse on me... but - but..." he began to struggle to speak. "Told me he was an ol' - ol' re - ughn -lative... of y-yours..." Mundungus had to choke out the words.
"He wanted you to... the wand..." he tried, but a great convulsion came over him as he started to seizure in the chair. Harry spun around, coming to Mundungus's aide as he worked his wand over him.
"What in the bloody hell is wrong with him?!" Ron cried, but Harry did not answer him as he began to cast a montage of spells over the shaking wizard, slowly calming him back down until he was taking deep, uneven breaths with his eyes closed.
"What does he want with my wand..?" Harry asked desperately, drawing close to the answer he'd sought for so long now.
"You've - you've done well... Harry," Mundungus just barely managed to utter, through in a rasped, choked voice. "I'm sorry..." he peeled open his eyes long enough to look at Harry. "D - Dumbledore was always g-good to me..." he began coughing hoarsely, spitting up blood. Ron fell back, but Harry held his place at his side, trying desperately to hold Mundungus with them.
"No... not y-your wand... he doesn't want..." he groaned with pain as he spoke. "I n-never understood," he labored as if he were on his death bed. "But... he w-wants... he wants you to use," Mundungus began hacking furiously. "Wants... you to use D-Dumble..."
He did not get to finish. He seized up, choking hard one last time, before a long trail of air left his lungs. He did not refill them. He went limp, dead in his seat.
. . . .
A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews. Keeps me going. I've plotted this whole thing a little ass backwards, the idea for my story basically consisting of the first twelve chapters, and then the general theme of who the antagonists are. There will be a bit of a delay for the next two chapters. Without an outline, I have no idea for how long this will go on, but I promise some big revelations in the next two chapters. That said, I've got nothing written beyond this, and being as important as they are, they should be long ones. Stick with me.