The Ghost Prince
Chapter Three
Vigilante
Alison smiled as she remembered that morning, still feeling his soft butterfly kisses across her shoulder as she sat at her desk. She remembered her surprise at waking to his arm around her waist, to feel his breath against her neck. It was an echo of a time long since passed, of days when they would just laze together and be happy in their little bubble.
He had apologized for his absence and she had realized something as the whispered I'm sorry had left his lips. There was no reason for his apology – he had lost his mother and coped with it the best way he could, the same way in which he had coped with the loss of his brother, by throwing himself into his work in the hopes that he could right the wrongs that had taken them from the world. Despite being aloof from his family the fact remained that he had always come home, even if just to sleep beside her for a few hours, the end all result was that he had returned to her.
She knew, at the very depths of her being, that no matter how bad times became, James would always come home to her and her boys.
Shaking her head fondly at the memories of the way his body had writhed against hers that morning, how they had found rekindled the spark of their romance by making love for the first time in months. It had been a close call as they had nearly been caught by the boys, hungry little Potters barging into their room mere seconds after their parents had spent themselves and demanding their breakfast.
Alison didn't think she could stop smiling that day, the morning had been that family moment they had been missing for so long, James and her both naked and flustered beneath the sheets with their two clueless sons standing at the foot of the bed and complaining about breakfast being delayed. Trys, she thought, had gotten an inkling at what he had walked in on, judging by his reddened cheeks and the way he kept tugging an indignant Daniel towards the door.
James had laughed when they had gone and it had set her heart afire to hear him so amused, because their home had been so devoid of his laughter for so very long.
The boys were both lost in their games, trying to murder each other on the new gaming console Malfoy Holdings had developed. It amused her to know end how they would spend hours controlling fictional characters and boasting of digitised magical spells when they were in fact wizards who possessed real magic.
Turning back to her work, she groaned at the thought of how much more time she would have to devote to this particular assignment. Since leaving Hogwarts, she had flourished as a writer, working first for the Daily Prophet and then taking a short contract with Witch Weekly before branching out on her own to write original novels – of which the Wizarding World sorely lacked – and compile textbooks. Currently, she was under a contract with Hogwarts to create a textbook for Herbology that catered to the new syllabus and with the new term starting in just three weeks, she was fast approaching her deadline.
Thankfully for Alison, her father had been a prodigy at Herbology and had left her most of his notebooks upon being sentenced to Azkaban for crimes against wizardkind. It still stung at her, that her father the war-hero had become so overcome by his prejudices that he had taken to torturing his Slytherin students. In the past, she would have defended his name but not now, she had seen the damage her father, alongside so many other bigoted individuals, had wrought upon her late brother-in-law and the world at large.
Some may call her callous for no longer giving a damn about her own father but she was a mother herself now, and should Trys or Danny be sorted into a Slytherin, she would not want them to be victimised for it. Thankfully though, times had changed since her own schooldays and Hogwarts was a much brighter place.
The fireplace in her office roared to life and she spun in her office chair, frowning at the sight of her sister-in-law, coming in looking haggard, veela beauty marred with lines of worry.
"Victoire," Alison said by way of greeting, glancing at the clock and wondering why the older woman wasn't at work. As far as she knew, St. Mungo's was not in the habit of allowing their healers time-off during the day, especially now that they were severely understaffed following the Cultist attacks.
"Is James home?" Victoire's voice cracked, tears glimmering in the corners of her eyes as she shook on her feet, unsteady, her lower lip trembling with emotion.
Alison was on her feet in an instant, hurrying forward to help steady the older woman who looked like to faint at any moment. Alarm bells sounded in her head, she had never seen Victoire look so careworn in her life. Her sister-in-law had always carried herself with a sense of strength and poise, even when Remy had gone missing, when Teddy had been evacuating Hogwarts during Albus' madness. She had never before given way to her anguish and frustration but now . . . she looked as though the weight of the world had come crashing down upon her.
"It's Remy," she whispered, letting herself be steered towards the kitchen for a cup of hot tea, "He's gone."
"Where?" Alison paused at they got to the stairs, concern for her nephew beginning to well in her gut.
"I don't know, I went to his apartment this morning and found this on his bedside table."
She handed Alison a well worn piece of parchment, her hands shaking violently all the while. Alison unrolled the scroll, noting the tear marks staining it, her heart sinking as she read the spidery handwriting.
Mum
I can't sit around and do nothing anymore. I can't let the Cultists get away with what they did to Demitria . . . what they did to me. I have to do this. Please don't try and follow me, this is something that I have to do alone.
Love
Remy
"I'll send James a patronus," muttered Alison, feeling a piece of herself begin to crumble as the words sank in. Her wand slashed the air, her she-bear bursting from the tip and rumbling out through the door before she turned and began to guide Victoire down the stairs.
"James found him before," she said reassuringly, "He'll find him again."
"Alison," whispered Victoire, tears beginning to spill down her cheeks, "I can't lose him. I can't lose my baby boy."
(*)(*)(*)
The dingy motel room stunk of stale alcohol and vomit, the wallpaper peeling to lie shredded across the stained carpet. The bed . . . he didn't want to think about what unsavoury acts had taken place on that bed and having brushed the sheets with his fingers upon first entering the room and finding them sticky and crusted, he had resolved to sleep in the chair beside the grimy window that night.
The motel he had booked in did offer one perk though and that was its seclusion from the rest of the world. Nobody would think to look for him here and therefore, his anonymity was to be guaranteed. It was imperative that he not be found by the aurors who stand in the way of his justice, or by his family who would try and bring him home.
It hurt him that he had left them behind. His sister, about to begin her fifth year at Hogwarts, his mother and father, both lost in how to deal with him these days. He loved them and it was painful to set their needs aside but it was more painful for him to have remained in his apartment, where every speck of dust reminded him of her.
He could still see her grinning at him from the kitchen counter, sipping on her morning coffee and forgetting that she had food on the stove. He could still remember her asleep in his arms, dressed in one of his T-shirts and snug under his blankets. The little trinkets screamed her absence, the hunting knives mounted above their mantel, the keys hanging behind the door, they all mocked him that she was no longer here with him.
He would watch her smile at him from the photos, and he would smile back at the frames mounted on the walls, forgetting for a moment that the pictures of her smile was all he would get these days.
His father had tried to get him to clean up her stuff; to pack it all away till he was stronger but it was to no avail. He was already so damaged that he feared he would break, that he would shatter at a fundamental level if he lost sight of those tangible memories of Demitria Pierce.
Tossing his bag onto the floor, he reached in to draw his weapon, that which he had obtained from the auror's armoury.
Goblin forged steel glinted in the dull room, the ornately forged bow lighter than a feather in his hands. The steel had been melded with titanium, further strengthening it, the arcs ending in two bladed points to allow for melee combat as well as ranged assaults. The bowstring was enchanted to never break and this bow, the legendary Vidofnir was one of the few relics that predated the existence of Merlin and Morgana themselves.
When the Ministry had begun collecting Goblin made weaponry to be better outfitted in the growing war against the Shadows, the Pierce family had donated their most prized family heirloom in the name of their late daughter.
It seemed only fitting to Remy that he avenge Demitria with her own weapon.
A sharp knock against the door drew his attention. At once, he dropped the bow onto the filthy mattress and drew his wand. Shoulders tensed he opened the door, just an inch and was met with an icy blue glare. For a minute he froze, seeing the girl he loved in those eyes before the ice in them broke the illusion.
"May I come in, or will we be talking through the door like common muggles?" snapped Opalneria Pierce, her voice hard as Remy opened the door fully, stepping aside so that she could walk in. The middle aged woman screwed up her nose in disgust as she took in the room, though Remy could not help but notice that her face was more lined than he had ever seen it, her once lustrous hair now shot through with streaks of grey.
"How did you find me?" he asked, slipping his wand back into the waistband of his jeans and turning to gaze upon the woman, who for a quirk of fate, would have been his mother-in-law.
"It wasn't difficult," she replied, "You wear my daughter's ring . . . I gave each of my children a ring just like that, enchanted so that I could always find them."
Absently, Remy's fingers closed around the cool silver band he wore on a chain around his neck, the metal seeming to warm in his touch. When they had first infiltrated the Cult of Shadows, Demitria had left it behind in their apartment for safekeeping. When Remy had left his apartment to avenge her, the ring had been the only thing he had been unable to let go off.
He cursed his sentimentality.
"What do you want then?" sighed Remy, "To take me in?"
"Merlin forbid, boy," barked Opalneria, "You defiled my daughter and now she is dead. I want what every mother who has lost a child wants. I want revenge."
Her words were like a cruciatus curse upon his heart, twisting the knife of Demi's passing deeper into his gut. He recoiled as if struck, his face twisting into an expression of utmost hate.
"I loved her!" he yelled, his eyes flashing gold as his lupine heritage came to the forefront of his being, forced to the surface by his rage and pain.
"You killed her," said Opalneria coldly, "and when this Dark Lady is dead, mark my words I will see that you join her in the afterlife."
"So you're here to kill me?" Remy drew his wand, the tip sparking green as he watched her through narrowed eyes.
"I am here to help you finish what my daughter started," she replied, "but yes, when every Cultist lies dead and every Shadow has been cast back to where they belong, I will kill you."
"I no longer fear dying," said Remy, nodding at her as he agreed to her terms, "I fear having to live without her any longer than I have too."
(*)(*)(*)
Cassiopeia favoured her son with a fond smile as he helped her through the fireplace, gasping as the wind was knocked out of her by an energetic projectile slamming into her midriff. Looking down, her face split into a broad grin as she hugged her daughter as tightly as she could, beaming at the brightness in those wide, emerald eyes.
For the first time in a long time, those eyes didn't dredge up the memories of her late husband. The pain was there, as it would always be, but it no longer hurt as much as it did. Her children were both alive and well and they needed their mother, she could no longer remain a stoic, melancholy individual. Already she feared she may have done her daughter much harm by bringing her up in such a grief stained environment but now she had been given a second chance and this time she would not fail her children.
She was tired of failing the people she loved and she vowed to never be that person again. She had been happy before Albus . . . she was sure that through caring for her children she could find a way to be happy without him. She may not be able to ever love a man as she had him but she was content to spend her days as a widowed mother, and be a person that Leo and Aurora could rely on.
Of course, she had another purpose as well. It was her duty to retrieve her husband's soul from Bellatrix's grasp, she could not allow him to be corrupted by the Dark Lady's perversions. She would have to share her story, the whole truth of how she had brought his soul back from the dead and bound him to her heart, how she had failed to keep Bella from capturing him. It was a harsh story, one that still tore gaping holes through her being when she dwelled on it for too long.
But she was stronger now. She could survive all that life had left to throw at her.
"You've grown so much," she said to her daughter, who grinned toothily with pride up at her.
"Soon I'll be taller than you and Leo," she declared, giggling at Leo's faux affronted expression.
"You wish," he replied, grabbing her when she stuck out his tongue at her and swinging her through the air. She squealed with glee and the sight warmed Cass' heart. She watched as Aurora insisted her brother come upstairs to see her new paintings, rolling her eyes as her eldest child resisted for a moment before giving in to his sister's pout.
Nostalgia overwhelmed as she remembered how close she and Scorpius had been as children, and how he had always given in to her pouts. Big brothers always seemed to become fluffy marshmallows when confronted with their baby sisters.
"It's good to see you smile again."
Cassiopeia turned sharply, she had not realised that her father was in the room yet there he was, leaning back in a black leather couch. His face may be wrinkled with time but she could still see the spark in his eyes and the warmth in his smile that had always comforted her whenever she needed her dad.
"I would have forgotten how, had my children not reminded me," she replied, coming to sit across from him, sighing in relief as she sat, glad to be off her feet. Seven months in a coma had not done her body any wonders and she found that the short trip from her hospital bed to the couch had exhausted her.
"I would have expected you to be at the Manor," she added, her smile fading as his face grew grim.
"The Manor is no longer fit for human habitation," he replied bitterly, "My Aunt Bellatrix, to use the common phrase, did quite a number on it during her attack."
"So you and Hermione moved into a penthouse?" Cassiopeia raised her eyebrow as she took in the opulent rooms which screamed of new money. It was a pleasant space and yet it just did not fit with the name Malfoy. They were, above all else, old money and she could scarce imagine her father in this room, let alone grasp the concept that he lived here.
"You can blame your brother," chuckled Draco, "Scorpius dealt with the real estate agents while I was still in hospital and Hermione took a liking to it. It lacks a certain sense of taste but I do quite enjoy it."
"You haven't changed at all, dad," she shook her head at him, "You'd still do anything just to make her happy."
"I love her," he said simply, "You will be staying here. I've heard from Scorpius that you have gotten the ridiculous notion that you will be buying a house of your own and I do not like it one bit."
"I can't stay here with two children, you and Hermione aren't as young as you used to be," reasoned Cassiopeia, inwardly cussing her eldest brother for ratting her out.
"Cassiopeia Astoria Potter," his voice was stern, "I may be old but I can still out-duel most men half my age, I'm sure I can handle two teenagers."
"Dad . . ."
"Don't make me call your mother."
She closed her eyes for a minute before nodding in agreement, reasoning that perhaps it would be best for her to live with Draco and Hermione. Her father was ill, and not as young as he once was, it would be better for her to be close by should he need her help. A thought struck her as she realised that it was midday, shouldn't her father be at the Ministry?
"Why are you home anyway?" she asked, somewhat bluntly, still a little peeved at him for insisting she live with him and her stepmother.
"Do you think Hermione, Rose or Astoria would let me stay on as Minister after my heart attack?" he smiled wanly at her, his fingers curling around the handle of his cane as he made to rise from his seat.
"Then who's the Minister of Magic?" she asked in confusion.
"I am," said Hugo Malfoy, striding down the stairs with his four year old daughter asleep in his arms, "It's good to have you back, sis."
(*)(*)(*)
A/N: Reviews are always appreciated.
A special shout-out to NovaArbella, who wrote me a fabulous birthday gift!fic set in the Lord of Shadows universe. For readers of this series, I urge you to check out her one-shot, "Fun and Games" as it's awesome and features two of my favourite Call Me Home OC's.
A quick word: As with The Good Son and Call Me Home, The Ghost Prince will focus on one major relationship in addition to Dramione and in this case it is James/Alison, as can be seen in the story tags. I feel that this is only fitting considering that TGS focused on Albus/Cassiopeia and CMH focused on Scorpius/Lily. These two relationships will have their moments in this story but Scorpius and Lily are not main characters in The Ghost Prince.
