Not yet
(An Igor Karkarov adventure)
Written by
Rodrigo Antezana Patton
Chapter One – Ingredients
In a couple of short hours it would be morning. But the tall lean man wasn't afraid of the coming light, it was something else he feared. He was counting on having enough time, at least today, for now. He had appeared on the plain with a soft bang, out of nowhere, he had apparatted. In front of him, to the north, dimmed by the distance, there was Durmstrang Castle, the Wizarding School he was a master of, to his left, there was a forest, that grew denser as it approached the distant mountains, to his right there was the Black Sea. The man looked nervously around him, knowing perfectly well that he was safe, but unwilling to truly believe that. He had to act fast, he had to do it, now.
"Yorvy, I need you!", he said, with a voice hard to hear from a meter away.
A blink latter, a house elf popped in front of him with a loud crack. It was Yorvy. He was dressed with a very simple set of a long sleeved shirt and pants, with colorful embroidery on them, all fit to his size.
"Maste' Karkarov", said the elf, as soon as he saw the tall lean man. "Is everything…"
Karkarov didn't let him finish.
"Yorvy, there's a big problem", the elf's eyes widened with fear, "not for you", specified Karkarov, "but for me. I'll have to leave immediately. And it would be best if I don't use my wand. You'll have to get my stuff for me, all of it. ALL. And bring it here, as fast as you can."
"But, si', wouldn't you be safe' in…"
"Yorvy, trust me, we have no time to discuss this."
Yorvy looked into his master's eyes, and disappeared with a loud crack. It took him, and his elf friends, only fifteen minutes to bring everything Karkarov had asked for. When he appeared again he was joined by two other elves, both younger than he, similarly dressed. He brought along several chests of different sizes.
"Have we missed anything, si'?", asked Yorvy.
Karkarov greeted the other elves, then looked at the stuff they had brought along. A big brown chest with golden metallic incrustations was the biggest, there were four other chests, of different sizes and materials. He was shaking his head, everything was there, nothing more was needed.
"I had to b'ing othe's along to get all at once", Yorvy explained, pointing to the two other house elves.
"Well done. And with speed. Now, I'll need one last favor from the three of you", Karkarov said, approaching the chests and elves.
"Last?", yelped Yorvy, surprised.
"Perhaps not the last. But, if I'm lucky, I'll be gone for a long, long time."
"Are you sure, sir, that there isn't anything we can…", interrupted one of the other elves.
"Not for what I have in mind, not for the way I've decided to follow. Serve Durmstrang well, do the job you have always done. I'm afraid that my path leads me elsewhere."
"But sir…", added one.
"Here is what I want you to do…", Karkarov hurried, "I need you to levitate those chests for me. I'm not going to use my wand, unless I have no other choice. Now, with you here, your magic will do the job well enough, it's the last work you'll do for me, for who knows how long."
The elves obeyed, with a little effort. The three of them had to work together with the biggest chest. Soon, all of them were suspended on the air, a few centimeters above the ground.
"It will not last long, Maste', maybe an hour", pointed Yorvy.
Karkarov nodded, "That will be long enough. Send us on our way, then, as fast as you can make them go, and tell the chests to follow the big one", with that said, Igor climbed on top of the brown chest, he sat on it as the chest begun to move with the speed of a racing horse. From a distance, Karkarov yelled: "Thanks, to all of you, hopefully, we'll meet again someday", he gave a final wave of hands, and focused on directing the brown chest through the approaching trees.
The elves remained behind, growing smaller as Igor moved further, and further away from them, saddened by their master's departure, as only magical creatures born to serve could be.
The train of chests was moving dangerously fast through the forest, causing quite a mess as it moved forward. All creatures, magical and non magical, hurried out of its way, as Igor tried to control the direction moving his weight from one side to the other, tearing little trunks and branches, and being hit on the body and face by others. He wouldn't risk using his wand. They each had a signature, they each left a trace of their use, small, minimal, but, if someone was attentively seeking for him, through it, he could be found. It was best to leave no trail to follow. That would make things much harder for the hunters.
Slightly less than an hour after he had begun the train of chests race, the elf magic faded and the chests came tumbling down, almost all at once. Karkarov noticing what was about to happen, managed to nimbly jump out of the brown chest, but falling into the ground not as gracefully. He stood up and cleaned himself. "I hope he got my message", he mouthed, and prepared to move further into the forest.
"I'll come to you", said a voice, shrill and yet hoarse, like a crow´s voice.
A goblin had appeared behind Karkarov. The wizard turned. The goblin was small, big head, big nose, with particularly long arms and legs, for his kind. He was dressed with leather clothing, had boots on, a red hat with a short pointy end, and, odd detail, carried a muggle machine gun, an uzi.
"What is that?", asked the bearded wizard, not being able to hold the question.
"Just… something I found in one of my… travels, it's… it's a memento."
Igor raised an eyebrow in disbelief, looked around, knowing something was amiss.
"And… who are they?", he said, opening his arms, to left and right, "I can't see them, but I can feel them. I could show you where each and every one of them is… just make them show themselves. You have nothing to fear from me".
"Okey, appear", shouted the goblin, "they weren't hiding from you, had they being, they would've done a much better job at it.", he told the wizard.
A rain of light, with a musical tingle, revealed a troop of almost thirty goblins, of varying shapes and sizes, all male, with colorful hats, boots, and each with a muggle weapon, some were large automatic rifles, as big as the goblins handling them.
"What are you up to, Decalon?", asked Karkarov, moving to his big brown chest, where he sat on. Some of the goblins were also sitting on his chests, they were all near.
Decalon approached Igor and sat in front of him. The rest of goblins relaxed on their own way. A couple of them, lay on the floor and seemed to prepare for a nap.
"Why do you think I should answer you? You said to meet you in the forest, the Durmstrang forest, near the mountain. I came, I'm here, why? Then you appear, with a train of chests, waking every single creature, for miles around. It´s you who must speak, not I." Decalon made clear.
"You know muggle weapons are… not that effective against magic", observed Karkarov.
The goblin seemed to expect such observation, he grinned from ear to ear, threw his uzi to Karkarov. "Here, catch". The uzi landed on Karkarov's hands. He felt the weapon, something was different, he quickly deduced what it was. "Perhaps in the old days, but this things are quite new, you wouldn´t believe their firepower… and there´s something else, can you tell?"
Igor could.
"Cursed bullets?", Igor wondered aloud, "cursed, jinxed… quite a variety of magic you have in this magazine".
"We get the ammunition boxes cursed and jinxed, then, we mixed them up. That makes any defense more difficult. Mundungus will curse crates for peanuts, so far he´s the cheapest we´ve found. And don't forget these machine guns, by themselves, they are really fast throwers of death. Now, they sputter curses faster than any wizard. One goblin, with one of these things, can create a big havoc, quite a lightshow. And there´s the benefit of not exerting our own magic, saving it for later. The combination works. Seen it myself. And it could even work only using the modified muggle weapons. Not my idea though, it belongs to Squib Jack, the american. Or at least, he made it popular."
"Squib Jack?"
"I'll tell you everything about him, later. We are here for you, what's your story?"
Igor took a deep breath.
"You don't come with thirty of your goblins, armed to the teeth with cursed weapons, to meet an old… associate. It means you know."
"Then, is it true?"
Igor raised his sleeve, showing the tattoo on his left arm. There, the Death Eater's mark gleamed black, solid black. The goblins paying attention to the conversation gave a disturbed "Aaaaah", all at once.
"And you mean not to go back to him!", shouted Decalon. Igor agreed, moving his head in redundant denial. "We can't protect you… no matter how much I respect what you've done for us…"
Igor raised a hand, asking for silence.
"Meeting with you, my old friend, is only the tip of what I have in mind". The goblin looked at Igor with mixed doubt and distrust. "You had a project… I haven't forgotten… how are your mines in the Urals?"
A fleet of magic carpets, flying on a diamond formation, soared through the air hundreds of meters above the Black Sea, approaching Ukraine and Western Russia. Each carpet had a goblin pilot and copilot. On four carpets were Igor's chests. He sat on the leading carpet, with a chest of his, and Decalon. There were ten carpets in all.
"It's a long way to the Urals", Decalon said. "You might as well tell me what your plan is."
"I'll tell you, under my conditions, and in due time. I've magical parchment, for us to make a deal. I'll tell you everything then." Igor wondered. "Shouldn't we send one of your carpets off?"
Decalon looked around. "We are still on water. It's tricksy, never easy to track anyone on water. We want to distract any followers, so, it would be best to use my goblins when and where they can be a distraction. We'll be on land soon."
The strong wind moved Igor's hair violently, only carpet and goblin magic kept everything on the rugs.
"I take it you're not too sad to be departing from your clothes?", Decalon commented.
"There are far more important things to lose."
The goblin leader aproved Igor's words with a thumbs up, whispered something to the copilot, who handed him a walkie-talkie.
"What's that?", asked Igor surprised.
"Soon as we hit the ground,", Decalon spoke on the walkie, "the tail will leave, head south, bordering the land, don't go into the sea, I repeat: Don't go into the sea. Border the land".
"Received", came a voice out of the walkie, croaking through the machine. "We'll border the land, NOT into the sea. Received."
"And don't forget to give your walkie to the next in line", Decalon ordered.
"Roger, roger", came the reply.
The minute the flying convoy flew over land, the last of the carpets split from the group, flying into southern Russia, as the rest went north. As they left, they nimbly threw the walkie to the next in line. The carpet leaving the group carried one of Igor's robes, the goblins were supposed to create a false trail just in case someone was tracking them at the moment.
Karkarov was surprised and entertained by the goblin's use of muggle technology.
"Don't be amused by this, Karkarov, I see you using some of Jack's gadgets in the near future, specially if you plan to hide/escape, or whatever, without using your own magic. Walkie talkies beat shouting or using magic, saves strength for when it will be needed. They use electricity, and are pretty useful."
"And where do you get your electricity?"
"We steal it from muggles. Very easy."
Igor looked at the horizon. He could already see the Ural mountains, although they were very, very far away yet.
"How's your mine business going?", asked Karkarov.
The question seemed to inject energy into the goblin, his eyes grew wide, and his voice changed in tone. He was enthralled by the subject.
"We have dug, more than enough, we have vast galleries, caves so huge you could hide Durmstrang castle in any of them. We have stone labyrinths, with second and third floors. We have special chambers, small enough for just a chest, or big as a house. And you will see the entrance, far more impressive than anything Gringotts has. We are installing traps, heavy doors, locks… we are only a couple of years away from business, then, we'll be the Switzerland of the magical world."
"Is it already a secure place?", interrupted Karkarov.
"Secure? Secure?... Well, yeah, but… are you planning to…", he was going to ask, eyes set on denial already.
"Not by a long shot. But I need to know if it's already secure enough, just enough." Karkarov gave the goblin a determined look.
The goblin narrowed his eyes, wondering.
"It's a fortress. Even the snake faced fiend would have a problem if he were to assault it with all his might, but…"
"Then, Decalon, I'm your first client," stated Karkarov, with a complicity filled grin, the goblin answered with doubt in his eyes.
Only four carpets landed in front of a cliff, in a comfortably flat area almost in the middle, from south to north, of the Ural mountains. It was cold and the wind whistled. Karkarov wore a thick coat, the goblins didn't seem to mind the temperature.
"Can you see it?", Decalon asked, as the goblins unloaded the cargo and rolled the carpets. "And be honest".
"Testing your magic, hu?", Karkarov looked at the cliff, intently, he could feel the magic around. "It works to hide it, but a wizard would use his own craft to make it appear."
"They won't have to, it will be open for business, for all. Until then, however, it's our secret. Come in, come in." Ushered the goblin.
With a crack of his fingers, Decalon released the spell that hid the entrance, and a crude but impressive construction appeared, as the goblin magic tingled and shined away. The entrance had a huge staircase, enough for 18 men to stand side by side at the base. There were columns to the right and left, making a gallery, fronting the door, which was very large, up to 6 men would comfortably enter through it. Inside, a three story open space of a lobby awaited the pair and the goblins carrying the chests using only their physical strength.
Karkarov nodded, "I have to admit, it's impressive. Very."
"Isn't it?", Decalon said, his eyes glimmering. "And it's still a rough cut. We'll bring artisans and artists for the fine touch. We'll enlist the help of other magical creatures as well. Not to mention that I'll ask what Jack suggests. Muggles can be crafty folk. And cheap. You see…" He begun to walk, move around, "there will be decorations on the ceiling, and every column with have several ornaments", jumping from column to column, Decalon created sparkling details of magic around them, "the stairs will bear decorations wherever we can put them", shiny globes of light appeared every five supports on the stairs' handrail, "and, anywhere we can fit a gargoyle, there will be a gargoyle", now Decalon was moving with surprising speed, jumping and flying short distances, placing protuberances made of goblin light in several places, "and magnificent spiders will hang over anyone who enters this place", he exploded a shower of sparkles that slowly descended, as Decalon landed in the middle of the lobby.
Karkarov, along with the goblins, looked at all the light created by Decalon, on the columns, handrails, cornices and other parts of the lobby. They could see not only what the goblin had in mind, but a very particular effect: the rough cutting of the stone, the size of the place, plus the goblin's shining magic, became a sight by itself.
Igor looked at Decalon, and applauded. The other goblins began to cheer and whistle, all moved by their leader's vision.
"Am I supposed to swallow half of it?", Decalon asked.
"Yes, leave the flask dry", Karkarov confirmed. He held in his hand a small blue flask, containing a potion.
"What will it do?"
"It prevents any and all forms of communication."
Igor and Decalon were talking deep inside the mines the goblins had dug inside the Ural mountains. A dozen or so, of Decalon's goblins, were guarding the place, moving in pairs, muggle weapons in hand. Inside the mines, also, the goblins had heavy ordnance, all with cursed and jinxed ammunition. They even had several cursed grenades and jinxed rocket propelled grenades. They took turns walking or staying put. The caverns were comfortably big, bigger than a normal human sized corridor most of the time. Igor and Decalon were inside a carved chamber, meant only for things, devoid of anything other than the floor, walls and entrance.
"Ooooooh," Decalon uttered, admiringly. "Interesting, but how will we… oh, I see."
"First I'll show you the effects of the potion in others. After I drink my half, I'll say a few sentences, then I'll try to use sign language", Igor drank his half. Nothing seemed to happen. He tasted the liquid's afterflavor in his lips. Looked at the flask and gave it to Decalon. Then, something happened as Igor's lips became blurred, and a strange murmur came out of him, seconds after, his hands became blurred. So, that's how others will see it, Decalon thought. He drank his half.
Both waited a bit.
"This guarantees that your friends won't hear us", Igor took the flask and verified that it was completely empty. "There´s no need to implicate them. Communication is possible only among those that drank the very same potion."
"Pretty effective thing, what's it called?"
"Snape calls it 'Informer's gulp'. It's mostly his concotion."
Igor went to his trunks, he opened one, and carefully took out some ink and parchments.
"This is a special parchment for secret agreements. Everything we agree on, we'll write on it. And by doing so, we won't be able to disclose that information to anyone. Anything written will only be visible for those that signed the agreement. If someone tries to force you into confession, the parchment's magic will yank that memory out of your brain, making it dissappear", Karkarov explained.
"All of my memory!", Decalon screamed.
"JUST the information written on the parchment. Only the secret agreement will be cleared out of your mind, doing no harm to the rest of your memories," Karkarov clarified.
"And what would it do to you?"
"Your part, of whatever we plan, would be erased from my mind."
Decalon nimbly climbed on top of the largest trunk and sat on it, moved a little, making himself comfortable. "Ready", he said, "listening."
Igor could not sit. He was anxious.
"I'll just give you the basics. The details will come to you later. First. I need you to keep my things, and keep them safe."
"They'll be guarded with our lives, we want to become highly trusted bankers, even if we'll be willing to deal with not as trustworthy customers", Decalon pointed out.
"That will work for me", Igor acknowledged, "now…".
"Wait! Wait!". The goblin raised his hands, like signaling Igor to stop. "I forgot. Forgive me, green businessman," he added, referring to himself, "but, how much are you going to pay us?", Decalon asked. "You've credit with me, you know that, I'm just curious." He moved his hands, nervous with greed, as he spoke those words.
Karkarov stopped his slow moving back and forth. He was looking at the cave's wall, to the right of the goblin's leader, thinking for a moment. He scratched his beard before quickly moving to the second largest chest, opened it and pulled a smaller trunk from it. Igor took a key out of his pocket, it pinched his finger, taking a drop of his blood as he introduced it into the keyhole. A sound of gears came out of the silvery trunk, and it clacked open. Decalon couldn't see what was in it from where he was.
"I was saving this for the grand finale", Igor said, "but, it doesn't matter if I give it to you now". A golden tiara fell in front of Decalon, followed by a shining necklace, several pouches filled with coins landed next to the goblin, and one in front of the chest. The goblin was all grin.
"Igorskiy, did I tell you…", he said with a honeyed voice.
Karkarov approached the goblin with a single strong step, he held the silvery chest on top of Decalon and turned it upside down. Coins, pearls, diamonds, jewelry of all sort, fell on the goblin. Even if the coins, and other stuff, were kind of heavy, the goblin seemed to enjoy every hit coming from the wealth raining on him. It was only an instant, but enough riches fell out of the silvery chest to bury Decalon, in a pyramid of treasure, had he been standing on the ground.
"Do you want to cave-retire? This is your fortress, Karkarovskiy, we can settle a fine, fine place for you. In the meantime, you could stay in my quarters. It won't be what you're used to, the ceiling a little low, but…", Decalon uttered very quickly.
Lifting a finger, Karkarov, signaled the goblin to silence. Decalon's mouth became a closed line, eyes still swimming with joy.
"I told you I was saving it for last. Now, I'll surprise you with the whole thing", he pointed at the treasure around the goblin, "that's down payment, my friend. Enough to buy all the muggle artisans on the planet, and make this place shine".
Decalon's eyes turned to two tiny specks of light, at that moment, and for the first time, he couldn't have remember his mother's name.
"Karky…", Decalon managed to whisper, with a very high tone.
Karkarov wasn't finished.
"All I need", the wizard said, "is your deepest dungeon, your toughest door… and an unbreakable crystal coffin."
Two out of three of Karkarov's request could be easily satisfied by the goblins. The crystal coffin, however, drew Decalon out of his greedy delirium. "A crystal coffin? A crystal coffin? Can´t we forge you a steeled magic-bound coffin? Why crystal?", he had asked, with an impotent yell. "How on earth, or under it, am I going to get a crystal coffin?" The wizard had eased the goblin's dilemma. "Although rare", he had told the goblin, "you'll be able to find one… and even the best, will only cost you a third of what I have already given you." Igor meant of the down payment, but that was enough for Decalon to fight back a lonely tear on his right eye. "Maybe Squib Jack can help you somehow." Karkarov added.
But there had been a huge celebration under the Urals, anyway. As Igor filled not one, but three chambers, with the treasure in his magic chests. Had he not been living in Durmstrang? The most important school of wizardry east of Europe. Had he not been headmaster of the castle for over ten years? Had he not been a follower of the snake faced fiend, at the height of his power? Had he not used his acquaintances to get wealth? Of course he had, he had been smart with his money, unlike others. Not to mention that he was considerably poorer than several of you-know-who's friends, take the Malfoys, or the Blacks, they were all wealthier than he was. But he had enough. And one third of it all, would go straight into the goblin's capital, and that made Decalon forget all his doubts about the crystal coffin.
"What else can we do for you?", the goblin had asked. That would be all, for now, Karkarov had wanted to say. "Keep my things, and yours, safe. And…", he considered carefully, "I might need your help, later on, how…".
The goblin showed Karkarov an open right hand, as he sunk his left into his pocket, took out something and threw it to Karkarov. It was a crude iron coin. "If it's a message you seek to give me, just use the regular channels. For desperate situations, however, this coin is simple magic, throw it to the floor and I'll make sure that fifteen of my troops will appear to pick it up, armed to the teeth with muggle weapons filled with curses. So, be careful when to use it, the troops will appear quite jumpy, it could cause a big, big mess." Igor placed the iron coin inside his magic pouch, one of the few things he would carry out of the Ural caves.
After, Karkarov departed on a flying carpet, with only his clothes on, and a few magical items. On his way to southern Ukraine, he learned how to play poker, a muggle game, with the copilot goblin. It proved entertaining enough, he even bought a pack of cards, not really knowing why. The goblins were supposed to leave Igor near Odessa, ignoring where he would go next. His actual destination was the Ostrov Letea swamp, in Rumania, in the deepest and darkest quarter. To it he would get by muggle transportation, up to a distance. He had a friend there, an old friend.
He moved carefully through the swamp. Up until this moment he had moved faster than he expected with the muggle transportation, customs included, now he had to be careful. The place seemed unfriendly, but, to Karkarov, that was everyplace. It was early morning and the swamp was foggy. There were some dead trees, patches of shallow water, bushes of all sorts, and everything on the area seemed to start coming to life. Birds were hunting bugs.
The wizard walked using a magic machine, a 'trap squealer'. It didn't make any sound, unless you it wanted to, it had several needles and gauges, plus arrows for the direction, in order to inform the user the distance from a magical trap, and how dangerous it was. Right now, Karkarov would've been an easy target for any muggle menace, but no magic trap would´ve surprised him. He noticed that something weird was happening, there were no traps on his path, he continued to move steadily toward his destination, but there were plenty of them all around him, and they were most certainly disappearing. They must be clock set traps, fading with dawn, Igor thought.
Finally, he saw the place, a house in the middle of the swamp, slightly hidden for muggle eyes, Igor, however, could clearly see the familiar place. It seemed to be sinking into the ground, as if all the wall climbing foliage was bringing it down, deeper into the matter they had grown out of. If one bothered to pay attention, the place was actually well kept, with a very low fence of stones, marking the house's borders. From outside, the humble residence seemed to be barely able to house a kitchen, bedroom and bath. The windows were blocked, with thick curtains. Karkarov knocked on the door. Nothing. He knocked again. There was no answer. He frowned, looked around. And he felt the extremely strong hands of a tree taking hold of him. For a second he was surprised.
The tree turned Karkarov around. It was a gnarled swamp tree, filled with moss, thick of trunk, slim in the branches. It seemed to shrink as it embraced Igor, and very human lips kissed the tall wizard on the forehead. The magic, spell or potion, was fading fast. Instants latter, the swamp tree finished its transformation into an old woman, happy and friendly.
"¡Igor!", she said, the moment she was able to speak again. "Please, please, come in". Her words opened the door. "I want to hear it all… I'll tell you what little I know, after you have had a decent breakfast. I'm hungry, too". She gave the surroundings a violent glance, left, right, as the friendly tone of her voice changed to sincere dislike. "I've been cleaning their traps for days, those good for nothing death eaters!".
"So, what are you going to do now", the old lady asked. She was a couple of decades older than Igor, her face was highly wrinkled. She looked strong and lucid, in spite of her years.
Karkarov felt well, the best since he had scaped Hogwarts, the food had helped. The place felt warm, yet not hot, as outside surely was. Furniture was rustic, made of wood, there was a large table, for at least eight people, in an area that partly served as living room. There were four doors leading to other chambers. In front of the table, imposible to imagine from the house's shape seen from the outside, was a huge kitchen with four ovens, some filled with wood others with charcoal, each had a chimney. In the middle, there was a big table for cutting ingredients, and shelves, and racks, filled with flasks of all shapes and sizes. It was the house of a potion maker. One of the best.
Igor hesitated before answering.
"Feeling a little empathy, perhaps, fearing for what may happen to others? That'd be a change", the witch said, before any reply came out of Igor's mouth.
"I'm not…", Karkarov tried to assemble a sentence.
"My sister would've loved to see all the trouble those bad companies gave you", she chided, before sipping the liquid in her mug, admonishing. She smiled, once again. "Bless her heart. She would also cut me into little pieces, if she found out I didn't offer all the help you would've required, Igor."
The wizard wasn't only thinking about her aunt's security, he wondered about his own. Death Eaters had already visited the place, would they come back? He decided to trust her old age wisdom. She would know how to protect all the information he gave her, hopefully, she would be equally skilled in protecting herself, from capture by the Death Eaters. Would they be a little more persuasive next time? For a second he considered giving his aunt, Ivana Karkarova, a crude iron coin, just in case. Decided against it, he was more likely to need it. He would talk with her later, at length, on how to protect herself using her own knowledge. After all, wasn't he a former Death Eater himself, and well versed on the Dark Arts the enemy—his former buddies—used.
The time had come to spit it all out, or most.
"I'll do many things, I have to, if I want to live. I can't tell you everything, for your safety, and mine." For a second, Igor's eyes saw outside the window, out into the world he would have to travel, out into all the places he knew he would have to visit, wondering which places he didn't know, he would have to visit. "I don't remember its true name… people call it 'sleeping beauty' potion".
The eyes of his aunt shined.
" 'Sleeping beauty'? You mean oneire eternis! To stand the test of time, let kingdoms crumble, let trees grow old, let water rise or fall low. To live forever, to be IMMORTAL, to SLEEP FOREVER!" She screamed the last words, her eyes wide open, smile from ear to ear. She closed her smile, squinted her eyes into two lines, and looked straight into her nephew's face. "But… asleep. To sleep forever. Is that your plan?"
"He will find me… all those that betrayed him, no matter by how little, will be found, will be tortured, will be killed. He has ways of tracking us", he showed Ivana his dark mark. "He has magic and machines, and a hatred deep as the darkest well. I betrayed him, I sold out his friends. He wants me dead, and not to die quickly. I must be number three on his killing list, just behind Dumbledore and that Potter kid. Or maybe I'm first in line, considering he has to put order in his house first, he'll come for them later on.
"I'll use all my skill to escape him, but he'll find me, eventually… I can't run forever. I must hide, hide in a way he will not think of, in a way that won't destroy me. I know the potion has a waking key, I'll use the magic from the dark mark, and set the waking time for when he is no more."
An skeptical aunt stared back at Igor. She knew there were many questions. She knew her nephew had only been stupid in his ambition, choosing the worst companies, or so she liked to believe, just like her sister, Igor's mother. For the moment, it was best not to ask, not to know, for his sake, as much as hers.
"It's a complicated recipe, do you trust me with it?", the witch asked.
"Always, do you doubt yourself?"
She moved her hands, which were far more nimble than any part of her old body. "I'm an old witch, but I still can make a cauldron sing with the right brewage. You have, however, a friend…"
"Snape?", Igor wondered, she nodded. "I don't know if I can trust him", he said, to close the issue. He would ask the Hogwarts teacher for another favor. Ivana saw Igor's reply didn't tell the whole story.
She stood up and moved to a shelf filled with books, some stacked up together, like in a regular library, side by side, others on top of each other, along with many rolls. She looked around for a moment, then, with a big volume—large enough to make Igor stand and make an offer to help, which she refused—she approached the table, where she softly placed the codex and began to look for the formula. The book seemed ancient, yet, from where he sat, Igor could clearly see every drawing and letter. As she moved the pages, voices came out of the book, some high and nervous, others friendly, some sobbing or almost laughing.
"Here it is", Ivana said triumphantly, and with a gesture she hushed the book's academic voice that came with the recipe. She begun to read the ingredients, making faces at some of the requests, saying out loud some of them, in disbelief. "Vampire blood", she shouted, "mummy's flesh", "what this?". Before moving on to the procedures, she looked at her nephew. "Do you have any idea what you're going to have to do to get all of this? It's not a common potion, it practically serves no use, it's a potion one plays with, or heartbroken lovers threaten the other with, saying they'll drink it, but never really intending to use it. Two thirds of what's requested, you'll have to look for, and that includes vampire's blood."
Karkarov finished his drink. He really felt good to be there, a pity he couldn't stay. "I never thought it would be easy, or that I would get it over with quickly." He gave his aunt a decided look. "Let's not gamble, give me all the ingredients you are not absolutely certain to get. How, or where I get the rest, will be up to me."
The questions really began to pack up in Ivana's head. She pointed to some ink and parchment on a desk, on the other side of the large room. Igor went to get it.
The wizard looked overboard. The weather was sunny, as the catamaran crossed the Aegean Sea, he was going to Turkey, from there, he would visit a friend, an old acquantiance, someone he knew since his days as a student, at a wizarding school. He wore clothes he had bought in Rumania, using muggle money, summer wear. He even bought a regular suitcase, just like any other tourist. He kept on him only his wand, the goblin's coin, muggle money his aunt had given him—she had refused to accept any gold in return—, the magical purse, and one page of Ivana's magic diary, if he wanted to contact her, all he had to do was write on it. It worked both ways, she would be able to reply. Immediately, if she was checking out the twin page on her diary. Sentences would fade once read.
He had been surprised, again, by the speed of the muggle transportation. On board the catamaran, swiftly cruising the sea, enjoying the Hellenic sun, it felt good to be alive and well. He had the list of ingredients too, not only written, he almost knew it by memory now, the parchment was on his pocket, as he fought the urge to read it once more. Although fast, the muggle transportation, compared to portkeys, apparitions, flu network, and others ways to move, was still slow. Karkarov felt, for a moment, like he was wasting valuable time. He pushed that thought away, moving like a muggle was the best trick he could pull right now—and that he would have to fix—he liked to imagine his old friends being scolded at this very moment by the snake faced fiend's fury, for not being able to hand Igor's head on a plate. He didn't miss that treatment at all.
Igor shook his head, regretting. He knew all his faults and flaws of character. He knew how many and how deep his mistakes and crimes had been. He also knew he had skill and talent few others possessed, so, he was in a game now, where he played prey, as the other death eaters returned to their usual role of hunters. It had come to this, he would show them what a skilled wizard he was, hoping his plan would work, hoping everything on his scheme would fall into place and save him.
A young man interrupted Igor's mental meandering, as he sat on one of the chaise longues with a view to the sea.
"Excuse me", he said, in American English, shyly, "my girlfriend wants to know if you're a maestro."
Igor was baffled, he quickly reacted, he pointed at the wand, which had obviously been confused with a baton. He denied with his head.
"No, it's not mine. It's for a friend", he answered, as friendly as he could. The young man retired bidding Karkarov a good trip and apologizing for the bother. Igor made him understand, with the wave of a hand, it had been no problem.
They had probably confused him with a famous muggle symphony director, which Igor wasn't, asking to make sure. Prudent action. The young man was talking to his girlfriend, she smiled nervously, as her friend gave her the facts. The misidentification, it seemed, originated with her.
The incident made Igor smile, no one suspected what he was into, what he was, his problems, the death sentence on him, and by whom. It all seemed normal, now, that moment, to everyone. Igor decided to enjoy it. He had no choice but that one, he would put a fight, he would try to last as long as he could, in the meantime, he would enjoy the sun, the wind, and the sea… or take a little nap.
"Sir, would you please wake me when we reach the shore?", he politely asked to a neighbor, also sitting comfortably on a chaise longue.
"Sure thing, friend, sure thing", the other replied.
Karkarov relaxed, he felt good. Perhaps they would catch him soon, as they had everyone else, he knew the odds were against him, but not yet. Until they did, he would be alive, and unlike all of Voldermort's allies, right now, he was free.
Not yet © 2009 by the author Rodrigo Antezana Patton. All rights reserved. It may be freely distributed in electronic form or as printed material, as long as the content remains intact and no economical profit is made.
About me and 'Not yet'. (1975, Bolivia) I wrote my first sci-fi novel when I was 18, it was published six years later, in 2001. It's titled 'El viaje' ('The Voyage' or 'The long journey', if you don't want to be too plain and verbatim). I've been writing for Bolivian national newspapers since 1998, mostly as a cinema critic, and about pop culture, local and global. In 2005, a friend and I came up with an idea for a compilation, lovecraftian tales with a Bolivian background, it was published the following year, 2006, as 'Inmigraciones de Arkham' (Migrants from Arkham), it had two of my tales. Last year I published my first non fiction book, a short one, named 'Ideas Homicidas'. In 2006, I also begun to write a blog, in Spanish, you may find it at: . 'Not yet' is something I couldn't help but think of. What happened to Igor Karkarov? How did he manage to escape the Death Eaters for a whole year? They're fiction provoked questions that can only be answered by fantasy. So, I imagined an answer. I hope you like it.