Chapter X: The Black Mirror (Part III)
"There is danger here.
Death.
I savor this fear that tries to overwhelm me. It can't hurt me, I'm young and invulnerable. I'm a great adventurer seeking a deep mystery it's just likes story books. I'll discover the hidden secret and live and live happily ever after.
Won't I?"
-Bruce Wayne
o0o0o0o0o
Harry sat on the farthest steel bench from the thick metal door of magically sealed cell, fiddling with the cursed ring that he'd been given earlier that evening. Lennox was banging against the cells entrance like an enraged troll, demanding to be set free, achieving only to strike fear into the cowering Lockhart, trembling Smith, and their sweating nameless companion who resided in the adjacent cell.
Harry paid them little mind.
Light did not reflect off the ring, thus making the detailed scales etched into it nearly impossible to see. Had it been a relic from any other family Harry would have assumed that the scales were meant to represent a dragon, but this little nasty belonged to the Blacks and they would have never settled for something so common as a dragon.
Most members of his adoptive house were rather full of themselves, and knowing that, Harry could easily deduce that the pattern was supposed to symbolize the one reptile that would forever be considered King to all, a basilisk. Of course that was just speculation.
It was fascinating how such a small chunk of metal could change the course of one line so drastically. Had the many heads of house been the tiniest bit less arrogant and with a pinch of sanity, Harry would have never have been able to gain the title of Lord Black. He may have never met Sirius…
Harry couldn't help but shudder at the thought of what would have happened had the wizard never taken him from Private Drive. He wasn't a child of Prophecy, so he doubted anyone would have come looking for him on his eleventh birthday. He would have been at the mercy of an abusive uncle, a neglectful aunt, and a cousin who could literally get away with his murder had he so wished it.
He would have suppressed his magic… much more than he had before until a parasite could have formed around his core, waiting for the moment of complete and total desperation, when he could do nothing but let go… to become nothing, to become an Obscurial.
'The idle mind is a master of horror.' Harry thought to himself, scarred features set into a deep contemplative scowl as he pocketed the small, cursed, black ring. 'Mine, more than most.'
Harry had only ever encountered one Obscurial and he had been the reason he'd been in Germany for an entire year. It had been a horrible case, ripped straight from the pages of a horror novel, one of the worst Harry had ever been involved with. It had started with the public dismemberment one of the leaders of a neo-Für-das-Allgemeinwohl movement, Lukas Weber, in the center of Lorelie's square, followed by a spree of destruction and death across the country side, and culminated in the death of a twelve year old boy named Timothy.
Timothy, or Tim as his friends called him, had been a pretty standard boy up until the death of his adoptive parents, William and Mary Hunter. He'd grown up not far from Private Drive and upon his parent's death when he was seven he'd moved even closer to be with his own aunt and uncle. From there the parallels between Harry and young Tim's life seemed to grow even his disappearance from the hyper religious household at the age of ten, but instead of being rescued by a quirky godfather, poor Tim was abducted from his home by members of the new For-the Greater-Good movement. The Auror's had made a muck of the investigation and the DEO had found it too small in scale to waste resources intervening.
And so, Harry never leaned of the small boy with his same round glasses he still wore until it was far too late.
Tim disappeared for two whole years before resurfacing in near a town called Schiltach, just outside of the Black Forest. He was found by a baker who offered him sweets and breads, the boy had was severely malnourished by that time, but he unfortunately didn't speak English. The baker's attempts at communication gave Tim's abductors enough time to track him down. The small bakery was razed, causing the death of the several Muggles, and nearly gave the ICW a stroke. Harry, who had been unfortunate enough to be the Agent assigned to Lukas' death in the nearby Magical community of Verstcken Hain, was sent to determine if the fire had anything to do with the Weber investigation alongside veteran Auror Linda Felber.
That was when Harry met Tim…
The ring slipped from his grasp, breaking him away from his thoughts about the skinny boy. The black ring skidded across the grey cell floor. Like a shadow it darted beneath the hulking demigod, and stopped with a soft clang as it impacted the metal bars.
With his attention free, Harry stood up from the stone bench and stretched for the first time in what felt like hours. That was the benefit of windowless magical cells, depending on how vindictive the jailers felt a minute could feel like an hour and an hour could pass in a heartbeat. For the unfortunate Witch, Wizard, or Being it was hell, but for an investigator it was a blessing gifted by the second biggest bastard of the twentieth century, Grinderwald.
But Harry, being part of Department of Extranormal Operations, knew that the moment the Aurors had taken him in the Head of the department had been notified of his dilemma.
He would be free before midnight, of that he was certain.
Lennox smashed his fist against the bars one last time and turned towards him. "This is serious bullshit, mate." He said in his gravelly voice. "It's not our bloody fault the arsehats attacked!"
Harry let out a slight yawn before responding. "It's standard procedure, give them a few minutes." The wizard the gestured to the ring. "Can you pass it to me?"
The blond demigod crouched down and picked it up and held up to the light. "Creepy, that is." He mumbled as he spun it between two of his large fingers. "You'd think that with a da' like mine things like this wouldn' bother me… " his eyes developed a far away look ."but then you came along and you don't fail to impress." Lennox placed the ring carefully in Harry's offered hand. "Be careful with that."
Harry looked at him questioningly but remained quiet, instead he decided to address a topic Lennox had delayed long enough. "Why where you looking for me?"
"I told ya we'd talk in private." Lennox tried to hush.
"It wont get any more private than this."
The colossal man groaned. "Harry, mate," He tone betrayed just how aggravating the entire situation was to him. "When we get out of this, I'll buy you a pint, and tell you, but till then, this is too important to let just anyone hear." He punctuated his statement by pointing at their Lockhart and his gang.
Harry stared at his long time friend with skepticism written clearly on his scarred features. 'What has you so spooked'
"All right," Harry eventually said. "Just don't leave it to the last minute."
With that whatever motivation the duo had seemed to vanish and the two returned to what they were doing before they began their short conversation.
Eventually, Harry's felt his lids become heavy. Slowly, but surely his senses ceased allowing him to drift into sleep.
o0o0o0o0o
It was a cold night in the Forbidden Forest, but a young, tired and battered Harry couldn't feel it. It wasn't unusual for the Old Man to have him training till the early hours of the morning but it was odd that he would bring a spectator. This probably added to the rush of adrenalin he was currently experiencing as he used his practice sword and bronze shield to sight his constant teacher for the past year.
The spectator was a woman in strange, leather, foreign armor. Her face was covered under a golden helmet, but Harry could see her dark brown skin thanks to her bare arms. She leaned on a nearby tree, as if she had a choice she wouldn't have attended his sparring session.
This wasn't a memory he was particularly fond of visiting, as he felt it held little sway on how events played out in the future. Though it did bring a sense of satisfaction by its end.
He watched as young Harry raised his arm in an attempt to intercept his teacher's long sword coming at him in a downward swing. As soon as the blade made contact with the shield it lifted off at an inhuman speed and came back down with even more force. Harry knew that he would not last long against the Old Man's merciless barrage.
Thinking quickly, Harry surged forward, intent on smashing his shield against the Old Man's bearded face. He felt the satisfying crack of cartilage breaking through the thin metal shield.
The Old Man stumbled back, stunned.
Young Harry pushed his momentary advantage by taking a step back and focusing his magic through his shield arm. Harry couldn't help the smile as he launched his shield at his teacher's shoulders. The thick piece of metal soared through the air like a discus, impacting where the limb connected with the torso, but sadly it was a glancing blow.
Harry shook head at his own blatant arrogance. At the time he'd been a decent swordsman but the his teacher was something else entirely, but at least he had his wand with him.
The Old Man recovered, his black eyes blazed with a fury that his memory could not do justice. Harry turned away knowing that the bout would end with luck favoring his youngers-self and the Old Man congratulating him on his quick thinking.
Harry looked at the thick fat moon that hovered menacingly over the forest.
"Merlin, how I've missed these days…" He whispered to the wind. Harry breathed in the air, closing his eyes, waiting for the memory to cast the Expelliarmus that would win him the battle.
Harry opened his eyes just as his counter part parried a strike, dodged to the right and pointed his ash wand at the Old Man's sword, and sent it flying from the warriors callused hand. There was a tense pause in, where the Old Man stared at his empty hand and the younger Harry stood ready o continue the fight. It was then that the grizzled warrior signaled the end of the bout with a booming laugh.
"Thou hast learned well, my student." The mentor said, clasping Harry's shoulder. "Though keep the shield on ye, thy life may depend on it."
"I will, sir"
"Good." He said letting go of his shoulder. "Rest, Thou shall need your strength." With that young Harry gathered his things and departed from the clearing. Harry expected that the memory would follow him but instead he stayed next to the helmeted woman as the Old Man watched the boy walk away.
"He's unpredictable." The helmeted woman finally spoke up Her voice was strong . "But I believe he'll do."
"My sister chose well." The Old Man agreed, but there was doubt in his black eyes. "But there are others whom would be better suited for thy lady's task."
Harry remained silent as he attempted to process the new information. Was this a memory or had it become a dream? That was the question that he needed answered. As an Occlumens dreams should have been filtered into pure memory but he was not present to witness this conversation.
"Unless Dee's parasite did more than I initially assumed." He mumbled under his breath. It wasn't out of the question, that the parasite had damaged the barriers. He'd attributed the Yule ball dream to pure exhaustion, but now he was rested things were not supposed to be this way.
"Either he allies with her or all shell be lost." The woman countered.
The Old Man scoffed. "Thou hast underestimated her before, Hessia. I taught her everything I know."
"Yet, she disappointed you." The newly named Hessia said plainly.
The Old Man remained silent, his eyes became shadowed, and he crossed his arms. "This one may disappoint as well."
Harry watched the wrinkled face of the old warrior with unreasonable anger. It was a deep settled anger brought upon by a dream that shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did. He wanted to lash out like a child, but the cold wind seemed to cool his blood.
"He is born of blood and his will is Iron." She protested, lifting herself from the tree. "My Lady has had him watched for years, longer than you have been involved with her plan. She assured that-"
"Vengeance is his motivator." The Old Man interrupted. "Once he slays the witch he will retreat from the world, to seek the peace he has been denied. What will thy lady do then?" The gold helmeted woman remained silent.
A white owl flew away into the night and the world crumbled as the memory/dream ended.
o0o0o0o0o
Harry's eyes flew open the moment an Auror placed the key in the lock. He was unsurprised to spot Tonks, sporting a light purple shade in her hair and brown eyes, amongst the team of Aurors, nor was he surprised by Ronald, who looked like his owl had just died, but he was certainly not expecting to see a smirking Miranda Blake, who's hair seemed shorter and in a darker shade of red than when he last saw her in Avalon, there with her hands in .
"Alright," Tonks shouted at her team pointing at a resting Lennox. "Get the other one up." Three wizards in black Auror uniforms moved towards the demigod with wands drawn. Lennox rose when they were a few feet away. His face was twisted in a scowl, his worn fists clenched and unclenched slowly, add that to his towering height and Harry could see why people thought him to be intimidating.
The three Aurors guided Lennox out of the cell quickly and quietly.
"Wotcher, Harry."
The wizard's attention turned to his new partner, purposely ignoring the two Ministry officers, standing to greet her with a polite smile. "Good evening, Agent Blake."
"Good evening, Agent Black." She greeted, handing back his satchel and his confiscated wand. "You gave the boss quite the fright when you didn't come out of the alley." And so it was revealed that he was still being watched.
Harry sighed but shook off any emotion that threatened to slip by his indifferent façade. "I was intercepted." He said shooting Tonks and Weasley a look. "Any idea why Lockhart is wandering around London instead of strapped to a bed in the Janus Thickey ward?" He had been under impression that the Fraud was to be supervised at all times, do to his 'accident' in nineteen nighty three, and that the man was almost certainly never going to regain his memories. Yet, there he was, spouting the same nonsense he'd spouted during Harry's second year.
His fellow agent cackled. "Why don't you tell him Auror Tonks?" Miranda said in a slightly mocking tone that made the normally laidback Auror's hair to turn into an angry shade of red
"About three months ago, the DFDL felt it best if her were placed under the care of Morgan Smith, a long time member of the Dark Force Defense League." The metamorph glared at Miranda as she started on her rather short explanation. "Given his status in the Order of Merlin, the majority of the Wizengamot agreed that it would be beneficial to have Lockhart exposed to an equally competent wizard."
"Competent…" Ronald scoffed, crossing his arms.
Miranda tilted her head slightly, matching Tonks' glare with one of her own. "Don't leave best part out." She hissed out. Being the stubborn woman Harry knew Tonks to be, she remained quiet. "Fine, then allow me." With he attention firmly on Harry, she began.
"With the Auror Department without a head, some members of the DMLE made a binding contract with DFDL to, in a way, create cause for arrest." Agent Blake looked disgustedly at the Aurors around them. 'Which is illegal according to Ministry's charter."
"Which would explain the reaction time." Harry thought aloud. Tonks looked insulted.
"You can't actually believe we had anything to do with that?" She asked Harry, her outrage was clearly noticeable in her voice.
"You?" He shook his head. "No, you don't have a reason to come after me." He then points to the unusually quiet Weasley. "But him? I'm sure he did."
"Yeah?" Ronald puffed out his chest and took a step closer. "Why would I do that?" he asked.
"Because I embarrassed you in Gotham and wanted to get me back for it." Harry said in a low voice. The green eyed wizard took a step in Weasley's direction more than ready to square off. "You couldn't stand being pushed to the shadows by Charles' younger brother, so you got in contact with a Dark Force Defense League. " He took a breath to study Ronald's reddening face. The guilt was there hidden under layers of bravado and pride. Ronald was petty, he'd proven that during their fourth year when Dumbledore had drawn Harry's name from the Goblet of Fire and had yelled 'Potter' and Ron had glare at Charles with such intensity that he'd missed the Warlock yell 'HARRY!" immediately afterword; the Yule Ball could be considered further evidence, mainly when he'd been particularly short with Granger for rejecting him and going with Victor Krum.
"You probably mentioned my history with the Tate Club," Harry continued. "It's common knowledge that the two groups despise each other." It was a silly little rivalry that had bloomed into something far worse throughout the two centuries the clubs had existed.
The Tate Club was a cabal of powerful individuals, both magical and Muggle, who met for the betterment of England as a whole. They were Dark without a doubt, but somewhere in their coal black souls they were decent beings. The Dark Force Defense League on the other hand are magical rich men who'd been denied membership to the Tate Club and formed their own miserable hunting lounge. They filled their ranks with influential purebloods, boastful frauds, and on rare occasions a person of moderate amount of skill.
"And what exactly are you going to do about it?" Ronald said defiantly. Nymphadora blanched as the full weight of her partner's muck up made itself apparent.
Harry smiled at the second youngest Weasley. "Me? I'm not doing anything, but Granger will be hearing from my boss and you'll be lucky if your suspension is the only thing she demands."
"Is that a threat?"
"Not at all." Miranda spoke up. "That's a promise." Ron looked at her, noticing the slight pressure emanating from the center of his chest where the tip of her twelve inch walnut wand was firmly rested upon him. "Now, take a step back, Auror Weasley."
To Harry's surprise, Ronald did as he was told.
"Thank you, Agent Blake."
"Not a problem, Agent Black." She responded while holstering her wand. "Now, I believe that Auror Tonks mentioned some artifacts that were in your possession at the time of your illegal arrest?"
"Yes, heirlooms of my House that were being returned to me." Not exactly a lie, nor was it the truth, but by the time the Aurors Department dealt with the storm the storm the Morrigan would undoubtedly dredge up they'd would be far too cautious to effectively challenge the claim. "I would like them back, Auror Tonks."
"That may be a problem, Harry." She tried to excuse. "While the knife is in our possession… the mirror is not."
"Where exactly is it?" Harry asked in a low, clearly irritated voice..
"The Department of Mysteries." Ronald informed with a hint of triumph in his otherwise defeated tone. "It became standard procedure under Minister Kingsley to hand all unidentified Dark Artifacts to he Department of Mysteries, there's a even statute for it."
"That statute also says that the Artifacts are to be handed over once the charges have been presented to the courts, and then they have to have guilty verdict." Harry spat. " Since I nor the charges have been presented to a court, you had no right to hand my property to anyone without my express permission!"
The statute was put in place two years after Voldemort's defeat at the Battle of Hogwarts in an effort to slow the Unspeakables access to potentially dangerous artifacts or heirlooms after a number of wealthy, yet innocent, wizards were arrested for having suspected affiliation with the Death Eater cause and never having their rarer artifacts returned after being acquitted.
This was imposed by the ICW after one of their own members a muggleborn named Reginald De la Rosa, head of the Ancient Histories Department, was arrested in his vacation home where he kept Atlantian artifacts. Chief among those artifacts was a scepter that Reginald had discovered on a small, unnamed island in the central Atlantic, he called it the Scepter of the Dead King.
Like the Atlantis, the city was lost once it fell into the Unspeakables hands and with it any chance of knowing what really happened to the ancient civilization.
Needless to say the ICW and the DEO kicked up a storm looking for it. All of this happened before Harry joined the Department, but older agents still talk about it.
Agent Blake put a firm hand on Harry's shoulder holding him in place. "Inform your Minister that both Agent Black and I will be retrieving the stolen artifact, by force if need be." With that Agent Blake led Harry past the two Aurors, making their way out of the DMLE's detention area and onto a lift.
Harry had been fifteen years old when he'd last walked down the black marble hall that led to the Department of Mysteries. He had entered floor as a child and left it knowing the grief of men. The whispers of the Veil were now a chorus that Harry could hear from the elevator as they descended into the bowls of the ancient building, so much so that Harry could barely make out that Agent Blake was speaking to him.
"Sorry?"
"Just wondering what so important about your mirror." She calmly reiterated. "I mean, I'm all for depriving those red cloaked bastards another piece of history but it be nice knowing what I'm risking my life for."
Harry looked at her for a second, straight into those strangely colored eyes, as if looking for something that he was certain he wouldn't find. "As far as I can tell, it holds old magical knowledge." That was enough information to get a determined look from the witch.
"Of course it is." Miranda said glairing past him. " Can't let them keep it now."
"No, we can't." Harry answered under his breath as the lift stopped and opened its copper door into the dimly lit hallway.
In unison Miranda and Harry exited the lift, each keeping to the nearest wall with wands brandished. They were halfway to the black metal door when they were met by three Unspeakables, in their long, vibrant red robes and black visor masks.
Two of them had their wands pointed at the two agents, while the third clutched a small, round mirror as if his life depended on it. Harry and Miranda kept their focuses firmly on the two individuals that had their wands pointed at them. It was a tense few moments before the one clutching the mirror spoke up.
"Minister Shacklebolt has ordered us to return this mirror, Lord Black." The voice was pitched in a way that Harry could not tell if it belonged to a man or a woman. "We would request that it be left here, for further studies."
Harry did not hesitate. "Not a chance in hell."
"Disappointing." One of the Unspeakables said. There was another tense silence before the third Unspeakable placed the mirror carefully onto black marble floor and stepped away. "You will hear from us soon, Lord Black."
Harry immediately summoned the mirror into his left hand and quickly inspected the mirror. To Harry's relief the mirror was genuine. Satisfied Harry nodded at Miranda and the duo began to make their way back to the elevator, never once did they take their eyes off the Unspeakables.
o0o0o0o0o
By the time Harry finally arrived at Grimmuld Place it was one in the morning, but he wasn't tired in the slightest but he was starving. So he made his way into the kitchen determined to find something simple to eat. As usual, the house was silent as the grave. It had been a home once but that was a long time ago.
Harry entered the dining hall and noted a large black box on the old wooden table where the Order of the Phoenix held their biweekly meetings after Voldemort's resurrection. It was a rather fancy packaging from stores he only knew Daphne and Zatanna to frequent. Put the satchel down and picked the parcel off the table.
Attached to the bottom of the the box was a small note that simply read,
'Lord Black,
I write this note knowing that your house elf will deliver this promptly.
Inside you will find prosper attire and a mask to preserve your anonymity. Fitted to your specifications, of course. You will also find a portkey that will take you to the event.
Be sure to arrive before the witching hour.
Forever in your service,
Etienne Guiborg'
He placed the note on the table and opened the box. Inside there was a black tuxedo with a dark green shirt, a black tie, Oxfords, and silver cuffs. Harry looked over the cupboards noticed that most of them where empty.
Deciding that it would take far too much time to search for something edible, he to change his clothes and prepare for an interesting night. Harry pulled out a black gas mask and placed it on his face before exiting the kitchen. He walked up the stairs and entered Orion's former study, that Sirius had converted into a storage space, and searched for something he could use. Something sturdy and with enough stopping power to put down a mountain troll if need be.
He rummaged through the piles of garbage that the family had collected throughout the centuries. There were lamps, portraits, scrolls, parchment, sword, wands, and guns. There was green locket that felt particularly malevolent that he threw across the room into the darkest corner he could spot.
Oh, where there guns.
Hunting rifles that could pierce dragon hide, perfect for a man heading into the lions den. Harry wrapped his hand over the butt off a thick wooden elephant gun and inspected it for imperfections. It was in working condition and the shells were nearby he put one in the rifle and two in in his new pants. Next, he ran his wand across the length of rifle, transfiguring the rifle into a stylish wooden cane to match his expensive tux.
It was heavy but he could at least it would be of use if things got out of hand.
Satisfied with his little trick, Harry descended down the stairs once more, intent on using the portkey and getting through the nightmare as soon as possible.
Harry checked the box once more and found a red bidding paddle with the number one on both sides.
He grabbed the paddle and disappeared into thin air as if he'd never been there.
o0o0o0o0o
Harry came out of the portkey in a dimly lit theater. He was standing in the center of a worn wooden stage, behind him was a white curtain stained in dried blood and torn in several places by what looked like claw marks, above the stage was a stone wolf head that stared ominously at the crowd.
It took him a moment to realize where he was, Selene's Moon Light theater.
The Moon Light theater was a theater that for nearly three months had provide true horrors for the wizards who were brave enough to brave them, that was until November second eighteen ninety two when they attempted to do re-create the Were-Wolf by Clemence Housman with an actual werewolf during the full moon.
Needless to say it was a slaughter.
The stage lights dimmed allowing him to look into the empty seats. That's when Harry saw the Dealer. He was a frail, short, hunched old man man walking with two white canes. He wore a breathing apparatus that covered the lower half of his face and accentuated his blind right eye and his vibrant blue left eye.
"Greetings, Lord Black." The Dealer's voice echoed throughout the theater. "and welcome to the Mirror House."
o0o0o0o0o
A/N: Well that's it for now hope you enjoyed. Please review and be sure to check out my other works.