The Dark Cycle 3: The Stick and the Stone
Chapter Six: Family Matters
"Demons run when a good man goes to war." (Dr River Song)
To say that Harry Potter was having the time of his life would be to overstate the case. That said, there was a certain exhilaration about not being bound by the rules of 'reasonable force' and 'due process'. Not by nature a violent man, destiny had made Harry a warrior, and sometimes it was good to unleash that part of himself. It gave him balance and perspective.
Thus far, he had encountered muggle soldiers, wizards and even a few wesen, all in HYDRA gear. More or less what he expected. SPECTRE was a smaller organisation, which hired out specialists as individuals and small teams. Doubtless the only SPECTRE operatives here would be Blofelds' personal minders.
Harry was quick and quiet, making use of service corridors and maintenance catwalks where he could, Apparating to suitable vantage points when opportunity offered and generally causing as much havoc as he could. But not at random, he had a plan. He was making his way to where the noise and chaos were at their worst. That, he figured, was where his friends would be.
He was a little surprised, then, to run into what seemed to be a fully-equipped wizard laboratory. Not nearly as surprised as its occupants, however! Harry ducked under a Killing Curse and responded with one of his own that did not miss. Without a pause, he rolled clear of a stream of black cords loosed at him by another wizard who had taken cover behind an alchemical workbench. Harry cast a Reductor that blew the bench and its contents to smithereens, leaving his assailant cut to ribbons by flying glass and splinters of wood.
As he came up on his feet another wizard launched a fireball. Harry threw up a Shield which absorbed the flames, and at the same time drew his pistol, firing through the shield to hit the man squarely between the eyes.
There was a moments' silence, then the sound of applause. Harry turned to see a tall, slender, dark-haired woman standing in the doorway, clapping her hands.
"Oh, bravo!" She said. "Remarkable! Everything your reputation promises!"
Harry looked into the cold grey eyes and knew her.
"Arabella Riddle, I presume?" He said.
She inclined her head. "Harry Potter." She replied. "They told me you were dead."
"I know." He told her. "Happens to me a lot. Somebody told your parents the same thing, as I recall. You shouldn't take it to heart, though. After all, you got double-crossed by no less a person than the Red Skull. But it was just Auntie Narcissa who put one over on your folks!"
Her eyes flashed, but she mastered herself. "I'm so glad you came this way." She remarked. "You'd never have got through that other door. I imagine your brother- and sister-in-law are finding that out right now."
If she was trying to worry him, she didn't succeed. The combination of Ron and Hermione was one that spelt the very worst kind of trouble for anyone who crossed them, Harry knew. He shrugged.
"No doubt they'll tell me all about it, after you and I have finished here." He said.
"Ah, yes." Arabella said. "Talking of taking things to heart, I was rather upset at the decision to take you out before. I did so want to do it myself. Family honour, you know? So it's all worked out rather well."
Harry snorted. "Honour? Your family? The only honourable Black I ever knew was murdered by your mother, and your father hadn't a scrap of decency to his name. Why do this at all? It's not as if they gave a damn – they abandoned you!"
"They made me safe!" Arabella snarled. "Placed me in the care of people who could teach me what I needed to know. Made Uncle Viktor my mentor, so that I could learn even more. They knew about the Prophecy. Knew that if it came true and you won, my life wouldn't be worth a moments' purchase. Tell me you wouldn't have killed me without a second thought!"
Harry sighed. "If you'd left me alone, I'd have left you alone. I've met Dr Doom. I'll bet he told you to leave it alone, as well. He's a power-crazed megalomaniac like your father, but twice the man Voldemort could ever hope to be!"
"Liar!" She hissed. "Oh, I knew I was right about you, Potter! My father was a great man, and you cut him down in his prime! But we're here now, and I intend to put history right!"
She raised her wand in salute, then moved into a duelling poise. Harry shook his head as he saluted her back.
"Arabella," he made one last attempt, "if dear old Dad couldn't beat me, what chance d'you think you've got, luv?"
Her response was a Levitation Spell that sent him shooting upwards, clearly designed to crush him against the ceiling. He countered with a Weightless Charm, flipped himself over, kicked off from the ceiling, then flipped again, casting Sectumsempra as he did so. Arabella manged to Shield, but not quite quick enough to prevent a long, shallow gash along her wand arm.
"First blood to me, I think!" Harry pointed out as he landed softly. "It's been seventeen years since I defeated Voldemort, and I've learned a lot since then!"
With a shout of rage, she hurled fire at him, which he quenched with a blast of icy cold. She tried to snare him, and he reduced the cords to ash with a fire-spell of his own. He shot coloured smoke to blind her, she summoned a wind to blow it away, then blocked his Stun hex.
Then, like her father before her, she hurled a Killing Curse at him. Harry moved aside, just enough to let it slip past him, and cast another Stun. Arabella dodged, but she jumped to one side, taking her eyes off Harry and her concentration off the duel for the one second he needed.
"Expelliarmus!" Remus had called it his 'signature move', and it had served him well over the years, as it did now. Arabellas' wand was wrenched from her hand and Hary caught it deftly.
"Done!" He said. "I promised your aunt I wouldn't hurt or kill you unless I had to, and now I don't have to. Run, Arabella, get out of here. Go somewhere far away and think about your life, before you do something irrevocable."
She glared at him, and opened her mouth to speak. But he never found out what she was going to say, because that was when the ceiling fell in.
Ron and Hermione had been causing as much chaos, in their own inimitable way, as Harry. Laughing, joking, bickering and flirting as they went, they had demolished labs, wrecked armouries and driven HYDRA troops like flies.
"I'd sort of hoped for a bit of a challenge." Hermione complained. "Something to show my talents!"
"If I'd known that," Ron told her, "we'd have come on Quiz Night!"
"Hmph!" She replied. "I said a challenge, darling! Me at a Quiz Night is like you at an eating contest – a foregone conclusion!"
"Oh, well in that case," Ron remarked, "when we get home I'll leave two pencils on your desk, not exactly parallel, and we'll see how long you can last without straightening them!"
"I'm married to a sadist." Hermione mourned. "Am I really that OCD?"
"You have your moments." Ron allowed. "But if you want me to be a sadist I can always cut your chocolate ration."
"Worse than Voldemort!" Hermone declared. "Worse than Snape!"
"Admit it," Ron urged, "that's what turns you on about me!"
"Too true!" She admitted. "It certainly can't be your charm!"
It must be understood that this conversation was taking place during the process of clearing out a carefully-laid HYDRA ambush with a barrage of fiendishly well-executed hexes. That done, they stood and listened for a moment. The air carried a cacophony of alarm klaxons in various tones, shots, explosions, yells, screams and ocasional bursts of very ripe language!
"Sounds like everybody's having fun." Ron commented.
Hermione shook her head wonderingly. "There's only a few of us." She noted. "How can we be raising so much havoc?"
"Rather a select group, you know." Ron told her. "But right now, I see a door in front of us."
"A very big door." Hermione agreed.
"A very big, sinister door." Ron amplified.
"And what do we do when we see big sinister doors?" She asked.
"Same as we've always done." He replied. "We go through them!"
The room beyond was dimly-lit, by fire rather than power, but also by the glow of runes and sigils etched onto the walls. Hermione glanced at them, then her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to speak.
Before she could say anything, the lights flared brighter and a massive hex crashed down at them. They both managed to shield, but their charms were shattered and they were both thrown backwards and to the floor.
When Rons' vision cleared, he saw a man standing in the middle of the room. A little above the medium height, heavily-built and wearing elaborate wizard robes in green and black, he had a pale, squarish face accentuated by the spade-shaped beard he wore and cold eyes.
"Pathetic!" He spoke in a deep, hollow voice. "Foolish, wand-dependent children! Did you think the Scholomance would fall before the likes of you?
"Even now, your precious Chosen One rushes to his demise at the hands of Countess von Doom. But you two, you will find your true destiny. You shall live long, miserable lives as the slaves of Baron Mordo!"
As Hermione and Ron scrambled to their feet, they clasped hands, and a peculiar thing happened. They had always been the kind of couple who finished each others' sentences occasionally, and were known, to the annoyance of friends and family, to begin conversations 'in the middle'. Despite the gap between Hermiones' careful, logical cleverness and Rons' intuitive but erratic brilliance, each had always been able to know what the other was thinking. But now, faced with ultimate danger, surrounded by magic, that intimacy achieved a new level.
Not quite empathy, not quite telepathy, but something a little more than both. For a moment, they were one person. It was intense and a little scary, and it allowed wordless communication of a kind neither had ever experienced.
He's more powerful than the two of us put together. Ron felt/thought.
This is the centre fo the bases' magical defenses. Hermione responded.
Can you take them down?
Yes, given time, but not with him there. You can't handle him, Ron!
Not by myself, but I'm wearing Dad and Tonys' latest bit of kit.
That's risky. It's only a prototype!
Hobsons' choice, luv. You deal with the clever stuff, I'll deal with him!
Are you sure? I can't lose you!
I'll be OK. All I need is to get close enough to land him a swift kick in the goolies. He won't be doing much magic after that!
OK. OK. But I promise you, Ron Weasley, I'll not be your widow! Not for long, anyway!
The exchange had taken less than a second. Then they let go of each other and Ron stepped forward. The belt he was wearing was not SHIELD issue, and had a large, silvery buckle. Now he placed his hand on that buckle and murmured a charm. A silver shimmer surrounded him, then solidified into armour.
This was Arthur Weasleys' wizard answer to Tony Starks' Iron Man suit. The two men had worked for over a year to produce this protoype, and Arthur had given it to his son before Ron left on this mission 'just in case'. It was not sleek and futuristic like Iron Mans' but looked like medieval plate armour. It was silvery in colour, because it was made from mithril, but the ring in the centre of the breastplate was white gold.
As the visor closed over his face, Ron heard a voice in his ear. Ever the traditionalist, Arthur had charmed the suit with the voice and personality of a House-elf.
"Suit is fully-charged and ready for action." Said the voice. "Masters' wand has been incorporated. All systems optimal."
Ron strode forward, and his amplified voice boomed from within the helm. "Now what was that about pathetic, your Baronship?"
"A change of attire changes nothing, Sir Fool!" Mordo sneered, then released another powerful spell, so fast that Ron, unused to the suit, couldn't shield. Hermione gasped as he staggered and went down on one knee, then sighed with relief as he stood again.
"Suit is now at 120% of full power." Ron heard. He grinned, Dad didn't miss a trick. This suit didn't just protect against magic, it absorbed it!
"Just call me the Silver Sorceror!" He told Mordo, then unleashed a Stun hex that, for sheer brute power, surpassed anything even he had cast before. Mordo did shield, but was still knocked back several paces. With a roar of fury, he summoned the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak. Ron guessed that even in the suit, he couldn't break those, so when the Bands appeared, he wasn't there. Like the muggle suit on which it was based, this magical armour was perfectly capable of flight.
From his new position near the ceiling, Ron hurled a Reductor that blew a massive crater in the floor at the spot where Mordo was standing. The dark wizard Apparated clear, but not quite quickly enough, reappearing bruised, battered and with his elaborate attire badly torn.
The spells within the helm gave Ron his full range of vision, despite the narrow eyeslits. From the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione working quickly and efficiently to shut down the magical defences. Sooner or later, he knew, Mordo would also notice her. This armour might give him the edge in magical combat, or it might not, but Ron knew for certain that if he could once get within punching range, Mordo would be no match for him in a physical fight.
He swooped down toward the still-disoriented wizard, bellowing. "All right, Mordo! It's arse-kicking time!"
But Mordo was a veteran and he responded by instinct, hurling a huge blast of raw magic at his assailant. Caught in mid-swoop, Ron could do nothing but ride it out, hoping that his suit could absorb the energy. Weird sensations crawled across his body, the suit juddered and whined, growing hot and cold by turns, but it held. When Mordos' blast ceased, the Silver Sorceror still hung above him, glowing now with argent energies that crackled along the surface of the armour.
"Suit is overloading!" Ron heard. "Wild magic discharge imminent!"
That was the inherent risk of the armour. Arthur had built it of mithril because that metal is wellnigh indestructible, second only to adamantium in hardness. But throughout the suit, centring on the ring at the centre of the breastplate, was a network of fine, white gold wires. Of all metals, white gold has the highest capacity for storing magical energy, but if that capacity is overloaded, then somehow the metal taps into an extradimensional 'wild magic'. This magic is incredibly powerful, but equally dangerous.
Ron did the only thing he could, stretching out his hands toward Mordo and concentrating hard. The wild magic burst out of the suit in pure white fire, raging almost beyond control. Except that it was not, Ron realised. Somehow, it was his magic. Not spells as such, but an extension of his will, and Ron was a man with an iron will. He directed the wild magic at Mordo, shattering his shield, breaking his will, pushing him back until he collapsed to the floor.
Energy expended, the wild magic faded and Ron touched down in front of his fallen opponent. Mordo was gasping, wild-eyed in disbelief, as he stared in stark fear at the armoured figure towering over him. Ron didn't feel triumphant, just a little knackered. The suit was hot and uncomfortable and he wanted to get out of it.
Then the rumbling came. Mordo looked up, then Disapparated. Ron simply dropped to one knee and covered his head as the ceiling fell in on him.
Hermione had been well clear of the part of the room that had collapsed, but for a while she was blinded and choked by billowing dust. Flicking it aside with her wand, she dashed toward the pile of rubble.
"Ron? RON!" He couldn't be dead, she'd know if he was dead!
Then a large pile of rubble heaved upwards and Rons' armoured figure emerged. Of course, the suit boosted his strength as well. The suit itself was undented, not a scratch showed on the mithril. But at odd locations, there were sparks of coloured magic flaring and crackling. Clearly the white gold circuitry hadn't fared so well.
"Suit has suffered damage." Ron was told. "Suit can only operate at 55% efficiency. Unless Master overrides, Suit will now close down for self-repair. Full function will be restored in five hours."
"Acknowledged and thank you." Ron said without thinking. The suit faded and vanished. Then Hermione was all over him!
"You did it!" She shrieked. "You were incredible! I never thought I'd see anybody control wild magic, but you went and did it, Mr Weasley!"
They kissed then, deeply and passionately, and for a moment, that incredible oneness came on them again.
"Whoah!" Ron said. "If that happens when we have sex..."
"My brain will melt and run out of my ears!" Hermione told him. "And it will be worth it, my Silver Sorceror!"
"Yeah, that was a bit corny." Ron admitted. "But you put a silly suit on and start throwing super-powers about and things just naturally turn tacky!"
"It was in better taste than some." Hermone allowed. "But the battle-cry needs more work. 'It's arse-kicking time'? Really?"
"Don't tell Ben, OK?" Ron begged.
"My lips are sealed." She promised.
"What about the defenses?" He asked.
"Got 'em down before you wrecked the place, darling." She assured him. "But I see a gap into the next room over there, and it behoves us to be moving on, I think!"
Harry had managed to dive under a workbench. When he was sure it was safe, he wriggled out. About half of the room was buried in a large heap of rubble, out of the bottom of which the head and shoulders of Arabella Riddle protruded. Harry dashed over.
She was alive, and conscious, her eyes focused on him as soon as he knelt beside her. But she was having difficulty breathing. Harry levitated some of the rubble away from her chest until a groaning in the heap warned him that it was still unstable. Even among wizards, heavy rescue is a specialised skill, so he had to stop before he made things worse.
"How are you?" He asked.
Her attempt to answer caused a violent fit of coughing which brought blood dribbling from her mouth.
Crap! He thought. Internal injuries. Not good.
"Do you have any Healing Potions here?" He asked her.
"Not..a Healer..lab." She croaked.
"Are there any Healers or HYDRA medics nearby?" Harry wanted to know. "My people wouldn't attack them, and you need help!"
"Why?" Arabella asked.
"I promised your aunt." Harry told her. "I promised I wouldn't hurt or kill you unless I had to. That includes leaving you to bleed out!"
"Harry? HARRY!" That was Hermiones' voice. Harry glanced up to see her and Ron picking their way across the rubble toward him.
"What kept you?" He asked.
"Ran into some old friends." Ron explained. "So did you, I see."
"This is Arabella Riddle." Harry told them. "She's hurt, badly. We need to get help for her."
"Right!" Ron said. "Well, you've got the Invisibility Cloak, mate, so you'd better toddle off and see if you can find someone. 'Mione, do you want to take a gander round here and see if there's any books or kit that we need to confiscate? I'll keep an eye on Ms Riddle here."
"I thought," Harry said as he pulled his Cloak out of the moleskin pouch, "that I was in charge?"
"You're dead, remember?" Ron said. "Until I say otherwise, anyway!"
"Oh, charming!" Harry commented. "I thought you had to be a medium to talk to dead people? All I can see here is a Small and an Extra-Extra Large!"
He wrapped the Cloak round himself as he headed for the unblocked door. Hermione was already busy about the shelves and chests in the uncollapsed side of the lab. Ron knelt beside Arabella.
"Out of Bellatrix by Voldemort." He mused. "Bit of a disastrous pedigree, eh?"
"Better than yours, blood traitor!" Arabella managed to hiss, though it made her cough up more blood.
"Hush!" Ron told her, with a smile. But the smile didn't reach his eyes, which were cold. His voice had changed as well, losing the soft West-Country burr and becoming clear and precise. "Harry is a hero, Arabella; truth, honour, justice – he buys into the whole thing. Also, he's a good man. He looks at you and sees somebody who took a wrong turn. Somebody who, given the chance, might turn their life around.
"Me, I'm not high-minded or clever. I'm what they call a Bear of Very Little Brain, so I only see what's actually there. I look at you, Arabella, and all I see is bad seed, seed nothing good can grow from. Time to sleep, now."
He leaned down and placed one massive hand over her mouth and nose. In full health, free to move and strong, she would not have been able to resist his powerful grip. As it was, her struggles were short, feeble and somehow half-hearted. After a second or two, she simply relaxed and let go.
When he was sure of her, Ron deftly flicked his wand at the ceiling, then yelped and jumped back as another cascade of rubble came down. This time, when the dust cleared, there was no sign of Arabella. Hermione dashed to his side.
"Are you OK?" She demanded.
"I'm fine." He told her. "Ms Riddle wasn't so lucky, I'm afraid!"
"Oh, dear. What a pity. How sad. Never mind." Hermione replied with heavy irony. "I found a couple of Forbidden Books, by the way. I destroyed them. Apart from that, it's all top-of-the-range equipment, but nothing out of the ordinary."
"Well, we'd best go and find Harry." Ron decided. "Tell him the bad news and bring him back to life, as it were."
He turned to go, but Hermione caught his hand.
"Ron," she asked quietly, "the Riddle woman. Did you...?"
"I cleared up Harrys' mess." He told her. "Just like I've always done, luv."
She nodded. "OK. Let's go and get him."