The Dark Cycle 3: The Stick and the Stone

Chapter Nine: Requiem

"Go tell the Spartans, passerby,

That here, by Spartan law, we lie."

(Simonides' Epitaph at Thermopylae)

"I'm absolutely sure it was a disinformation exercise." Harry told Kingsley Shacklebolt. "I don't doubt that there are wizards who work for HYDRA, just as some work for SHIELD and some for SPECTRE.

"But the idea of a large number of wizards being HYDRA agents, even sleepers, is just a little too much. They overplayed their hand."

Kingsley nodded. "I suppose they used Dumbledores' image because they knew you'd distrust Snape, even if he's more likely to have been HYDRA!"

"Would've been a mistake in either case." Harry pointed out. "I knew both of them to well to be taken in by a simulacram!

"No, the idea was to send me flying off on a wild-goose chase looking for HYDRA agents all over our world and leaving the real HYDRA to get on with whatever plans they have. So I intend to do just the opposite. That way, if and when they do pull something, I won't be distracted."

"Good enough." Kingsley allowed. "What about the Elder Wand? HYDRA seemed keen for you to have it."

"I think that was only while they had a hope of getting the Tesseract." Harry told him. "It seems to have a relationship with it – the Wand may be a Dark Energy artefact itself, after all. We really know very little about it apart from myths.

"But if HYRA could have recruited me, it seems I could have used the Elder Wand to channel the Tesseracts' magical energies just as Tesla and Schmidts' technology would have harnessed its' physical ones. If I took the Wand, but didn't join up, they were counting on DuMorne or Mordo to defeat me and claim the Wand for themselves, I imagine. Either way, it's back where it belongs, now."

"That's a relief." Kingsley said. "Are you going to beef up security at the White Tomb?"

"Yes." Harry replied. "But not in an obvious way. No point advertising!"

"Quite. Back to work, then?"

"In a couple of days." Harry said. "Personal matters to take care of, first."

On the slopes of Mount Taygetus, overlooking the ruins of ancient Sparta, in the hour before dawn, they brought Kratos home.

The pyre was laid where the first rays of the sun would strike. It was of olive and laurel wood, soaked in oil and sprinkled with fragrant herbs. Nearby stood a small group of men and women, those who had joined Kratos in his last campaign. From an unseen source, slow music began to play: Nimrod the Hunter from the Enigma Variations.

The cortege approached. The bier was borne by Ronald Weasley, Dante Sparda, Steve Rogers and Duncan MacLeod; mighty men all, and none too few, for the Fallen was no easy burden. Before it came a tall, powerful Black man – Teal'c, former First Prime of Apophis and member of SG1. Genetic testing had shown that at least one of Kratos' parents had been a Jafar, and Teal'c was here to honour a brother. He bore the hoplon, the great round shield of the Spartan soldier, charged with its simple red chevron. Beside the bier walked Ginny Potter and River Song, one on each side, wearing simple white dresses and sandals, gold circlets around their braided hair, each bearing a torch. Behind came Harry Potter, in full Auror robes, bearing the blades Kratos had used in his last fight.

As the music reached its stately climax, Harry levitated the bier onto the pyre. Kratos lay wrapped in the scarlet war-cloak of his people, the laurel wreath of the victor on his brow. Teal'c placed the hoplon over him, and Harry laid the knives by his side, still radiating cold in the darkness.

Then they stepped back to join the half-circle about the pyre. The sun suddenly rose above Mount Parnon to the East, the light spilling across the plateau of ancient Laconia, revealing the landscape in all its rugged, unforgiving beauty.

Kratos had been Spartan to the core – he neither used nor appreciated excessive speech. So Harry spoke the simple words of remembrance- the only words that anyone would speak in this ceremony:

"They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old.

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun, and in the morning,

We will remember them."

As he fell silent, the sun reached the pyre. The magical daggers burst into ferocious flame, as if to honour their last wielder. Ginny and River thrust their torches into the pyre while Hermione, acknowledged mistress of fire-magic, bent her will on the flames.

The fire was hot, and fierce, and within a very short time, the pyre and its burden were reduced to ashes. Only the daggers remained, still glowing, in the centre. Luna levitated them out and placed them back in their case to return to Torchwood. Then Harry cast a charm that brought the ashes whirling up like a dust-devil. Within moments, that which had been Kratos, Ghost of Sparta, had been separated from the rest. Harry sealed his friends' ashes in a simple bronze urn. All traces of the rest were obliterated, and a moment later, the mountainside was empty.

There was a funeral feast at The Burrow, and Molly outdid herself. Kratos, frugal as he may have been in his daily life, was a man who would do full justice to a good meal when occasion served, and this was Mollys' way of honouring him. So they honoured him until even Ron settled back and admitted himself stuffed!

Harry took the urn home to Godrics' Hollow, and there the Spartan who had defeated monsters, demigods and Gou'a'ould found his final home in a sunny corner of an English garden. Harry buried the urn at the foot of a wall, replacing part of the original drystone with a slab of Greek marble, on which he etched in the letters of Ancient Greece and modern England the single word: KRATOS.

Lily Potter claimed that spot in the garden for her own. As a child, she planted pretty, colourful flowers there every spring. Later, as her knowledge grew and she matured, she planted laurel and myrtle, and at the last, a small olive tree. To her family, she remained the same bright, loving girl, frequently breaking into the merry laughter that had so entranced her 'uncle'. But in her outer life, she became a modern Spartan, frugal in her habits, disciplined in her studies and work, sparse and witty in her speech. She always wore the pendant Kratos had gifted her.

Such was Kratos' memorial and monument, and he would not have wished for better.

Three men in a bright, airy room. Harry Potter turned to the short, plump, grizzled man with thick glasses, handing him a long wooden box.

"It's wizard-locked, so none of your people can open it, unless you start recruiting wizards. It can't be neutralised, unfortunately, but yours is the last place anyone will look for it.

"Thanks for doing this, Artie."

Artie shrugged. "It's what we do. The Warehouse is for storing things. Not usually things like this, we deal with things that get magical by accident, normally.

"I was surprised when the Regents agreed to help out. I didn't even know they knew about you guys!"

Harry laughed. "They've always known!" He said. "Couldn't have Warehouse agents falling over Misuse of Muggle Artefacts people every five minutes, could we?"

"That kinda makes sense." Artie admitted. "But they coulda told me! If I'd known there were wizards..."

"It would've been one more thing to worry about!" Harry told him. "Mrs Fredericks told me you're cantankerous enough as it is, Artie!"

Artie snorted and put the box into his bag. "I'd better get going." He said. "Got a flight to catch!"

He shook hands with Harry and left. Harry turned to the other man, who had watched silently.

"Ok, that's the Elder Wand dealt with! Like I told Artie, nobody will look for it in Warehouse 13. that's a muggle place." He studied his companion carefully.

"Are you up for this?" He asked.

The other man gave a short bark of laughter. "Ready for a new job, Harry? One that has a much bigger salary, a company car, some status and a total lack of soul-crushing boredom? I've been ready for that for the last ten years, old friend!"

"Wouldn't have thought the salary mattered to you." Harry pointed out.

The reply was a wry one. "You're a Dad, aren't you? When you've got kids, there's never enough money coming in compared to what goes out!

"But I do wonder why. Why me, for one thing. Then why at all, given your report to Kingsley?"

Harry shrugged. "I couldn't tell Kingsley the truth, for a lot of reasons. If I'm right, we're all being watched, and if I'm honest, I just don't know how deep or far this goes.

"As for you, who else? Nobody, and I mean nobody, would suspect us of working together. I always thought something like this might happen, which is why I recruited and trained you on the quiet. My ace in the hole, to use a muggle phrase you might not recognise."

"I'm familiar with poker, Harry. My good lady is rather fond of cards, and we play a great deal.

"But you seem surprisingly willing to believe this of Dumbledore, of all people!"

"It's like I told Kingsley." Harry replied. "I knew the man. Better than most people think. You, me and Ron are the only ones that have read his Barsoomian manuscript, for instance. Reading between the lines of that is quite the eye-opener. Plus there's a lot of blank spaces in his life-story. Periods where he goes quiet, at least publicly, which for a man of such acknowledged brilliance, widely respected and sought-after, is more than a bit odd.

"Then there are the things he didn't do, or say, that he should have. Inconsistencies. It's not just him either. You know Ron, how he sees patterns. Well, he's been getting itchy for a while now, seeing bits of things that don't fit, or that do fit, but in the wrong places.

"No, Dumbledore was telling me the truth. HYDRA has penetrated the wizard world, and I want you to find out how deeply, and to root it out, with the help of an organisation that knows more about HYDRA than any other."

"Well, I'll do my best." The other man promised. "Seems odd to be the one out in the field, doing the hard work while you pretend to be business as usual. Wouldn't it have been easier for you to stay dead? Then you could have done it yourself."

Harry shook his head. "Wouldn't have worked. HYDRA knew I was still alive, remember. They'd have had an eye out for me, and the most sophisticated cover has its limits. In fact, the more elaborate the cover, the easier it is to compromise.

"In your case, a secondment to the FBS is just what it looks like, and it's easy to maintain."

"Makes sense." The other allowed. "Though I still think you're barking mad! Always have been, if it comes to that."

"I was fine till I met you!" Harry retorted. "Now bugger off! Don't want to be late on your first day!"

They shook hands. Harry left by the door that Artie had used. The other man turned to another door. A heavy steel door equipped with all the latest biometric and other security measures. He placed his long-fingered hand on the palm plate which simultaneously scanned his prints and registered his DNA. He looked into a lens that examined and matched the retinal patterns of one cold grey eye. Finally, a pleasant female voice requested "Voiceprint verification, please."

He leaned toward the microphone and spoke in a tone of mild disbelief:

"Draco Malfoy." He said. "Agent of SHIELD."