Author's Notes:
Thank you, everyone for bearing with me during these months of silence. The church has grown, and I have been busy running around dealing with our expanded outreach. It has been bracing to see that people really are interested in what we have to say, but it left me little time for writing.
That is going to change next year. I am setting aside time to work on my nonfiction book, "Runnin' With the Angels" and "The Gabriel Connection", the first of five original novels that I hope will end up on the silver screen someday. This story and the two that follow were supposed to be warm ups for my other works, so I want to get these done before I tackle the rest.
I have nine more chapters in this crossover and they're coming fast and furious. So, hang on for the rest of the ride.
And…
Happy Christmas, Joyous Hanukkah, Blessed Kwanzaa and a Great New Year!
+BT
Chapter Eleven-Clean Up on Aisle Eight
The clean-up and repairs to the damaged government buildings were handled as quickly and quietly as possible. Aurors worked round the clock to Obliviate the Muggles who had seen too much and rapidly mend the smashed structures. It was a long process that lasted for hours. But it all had to be finished before daylight, so the Magical agents pressed on.
Suddenly, in the middle of it all, at the point of total exhaustion, the professionals looked up to see a large crowd marching resolutely towards the remains of Buckingham Palace.
"Emergency!" Remus yelled out a window. The MI6 trained Wizard Teams rushed outside led by Tonks to greet hundreds of ordinarily dressed folks of all races and ages, carrying wands. As the Aurors stared in amazement, a portly woman in an neatly pressed apron with red hair pushed her way through to stand before them all.
Tonk's eyes widened. "Molly?"
The Matron Weasley smiled and nodded, "Nymphadora. "
"You KNOW how I hate that."
"Don't be silly, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, patting her cheek affectionately. "It's a lovely name."
Several of the older members in the group laughed. Tonks' hair blushed bright pink.
"What are you doing here?" Lupin asked, coming forward to stand beside his salmon tressed wife.
"We're here to help," Molly said, beckoning at the group behind her.
"And more are coming," said a whiskered man in plumber's overalls. "Sorry, we couldn't dress up or anything, but Molly and her nibs had to ring us on short notice."
"Arthur called you? On the phone?" Lupin asked in amazement.
"Well, sending that many owls would have caused some notice, don't you think?" the man said, chuckling.
The crowd laughed.
"But who are you?"
"Joseph Edward Simmons, Hogwarts, Class of 1976," he said, sketching a bow. "Got my NEWTs in Charms and Magical History. Couldn't find much of a job in the Wizarding World, so I married a Muggle, had five kids and used what I learned in fixing the unfixable." He laid his finger aside his rather large nose, grinning. "As long as I kept my magic on the QT, I figured no one would notice and they haven't."
He waved a small bunch of children and teenagers forward. They had facial features that echoed his own. "These are my babies," Joseph said proudly. "Missus and I kept them at home for wizard training. Didn't want to get involved in any of that crazy stuff with You-Know-Who. But they learned well enough. Peter here is great with Memory Charms and Kathy really knows her way around Magical repairs, just like your old Da, right, honey?"
The blond-haired girl smiled shyly.
"Arthur's department keeps records of witches and wizards who have chosen to live in the Muggle World," Molly said. "They check up on them to make sure they're obeying the Secrecy Laws but as long as the families keep their heads down and their children pass their OWLs and NEWTs, no one cares. But now- "
"Now, we have to step out of the shadows and do something!" An elderly witch cried out from the back, waving her cane. The crowd parted as she tapped her way forward.
"Rachel Busman, class of 39' I graduated Hogwarts and found my Willie right after that Hitler fella started bombing the hell out of us back in 44'. I-I lost him one night after our flat got hit. That's when I realized magic couldn't solve everything. So, I left and found a place with the Muggles as a nurse. I was happy. Even got remarried-twice."
The crowd chuckled again.
"But now this! That raw bastard, Volde- "
"Don't say his name!"
"Right, well, whatever you call him, that right piece of crap can't go about assaulting the Queen and disgracing us before the whole wizarding world. So, we've come to help."
"Just tell us what to do," Joe said. The crowd murmured in agreement.
The Aurors looked at each other in astonishment. Tonks burst into tears.
"Right-o," Molly said, putting a motherly arm around the Auror's shoulders. "Let's get the Repair Wizards and Witches over to Mr. Simmons here. We need the Memory Charms by Peter, is it? Over there. Everyone else, line up by that tall, dignified Black Wizard with the bald head, sorry Shackleford."
"No, problem, Molly," he said, smiling.
"I'm sure he'd be more than happy to help you find a place."
"I want to fight," Kathy yelled. "I'm sick of wizards and witches running around ripping things apart and causing trouble for us all. I say we draw a line now and push back!"
They all cheered.
"That's my girl," Joe said, proudly, hugging her. "She gets that spunk from her Ma. I didn't want her here, Secrecy Laws and all, you know. But anything you need in the way of food or driving folks about, you ask it. She cooks like a dream and she's the best cabbie in all of London."
"Happy to meet you," Lupin shook his callused hands. Tonks continued to cry.
"Oh, poor dear," Rachel clucked. "This one needs a nice cuppa."
"Come on, Tonks, honey. You look all done in." Molly steered her towards what was left of the palace kitchen. Rachel followed.
"You don't think she's in a family way, do you?" she whispered. "I remember bawling like that with my first child."
"Hmmm," Molly said, thoughtfully.
"That was the most irresponsible thing I have ever seen in my whole life! Not only did you disobey a direct order, bash in the brains of a Muggle, who also is supposed to be your direct superior, you nearly got yourself roasted and eaten by a bloody dragon!"
Harry hung his head, staring down at his toes, avoiding McGonagall's rage.
"And as for you, 007," Mallory flumed, "I can't believe that you did a public parachute drop with the Queen of England!"
"And her dog."
M glared.
"Sir," Bond added belatedly.
"You're lucky no one saw your face."
"I would have erased things if they had, sir." Harry said brightly. "Those new memory charms can work on cameras too."
"Oh, NOW you're speaking to me, Potter? I thought you were more of the actions speak louder than words crowd." M winched, feeling the back of his head again.
"Still hurt, does it, sir?" The teen pulled his wand. "I have a healing charm from Hermione that should set things right."
"Don't come near me," Mallory growled, stepping behind his desk.
"I think you've done enough damage for one day, Potter," Maggie sniffed. "And just how did you know where to hit him, anyway? You could have miscalculated- "
"James showed me," Harry said. "He says it's a good knock out point because it doesn't leave any brain damage."
M glowered at Bond. "Oh, did he now?"
007 cleared his throat and looked away.
"Sir, I'm sorry I hit you. I really am." Harry said. "But, I couldn't let the Queen or Bond die. And I knew I could help!"
"He's right, sir. Potter's the best Seeker at Hogwarts, according to everyone I've talked to and that means no one else would have been able to execute the plan as effectively as Harry. He was nothing short of brilliant and-"
"Shut up!" Mallory and McGonagall both snapped as one.
Potter and Bond fell silent. Their two superiors continued berating them for another 15 minutes, long enough for Harry and James to tune out the angry carping and tune into each other.
I really didn't think it was THAT bad, the teen sighed.
It wasn't, Bond mentally shrugged back at Harry. It's just that you scared them and that never goes over well.
They're scared?
Of course- Hell, you scared Me! When I saw you flying towards that Thing on nothing more than a broomstick… Well, what was I supposed to think, Harry? You could have died.
So, could you.
Their thought stream quieted between them. Slowly, they both realized that death was a terrible reality that neither one of them wanted to face for the other. Either one of them could die and suddenly that mattered.
What is this feeling? Bond pondered. He had work mates like Q or bosses like Mallory that he cared about deeply. If they died naturally or were killed in the line of duty he would get drunk for the one and avenge them for the other. So many people had been lost to his business over the years, James had found that revenge or putting your drink on was about all you could do for a colleague. It hurt, but he could cope.
Women were different. Each time a bedmate died, a little piece of him died too. He thought about Vesper and the ghost of that pain whirled like a dust devil in his heart. From Tilly Masterson painted in gold, a shining Yang to Agent Fields Yin, years later lying on a hotel's pale comforter filled with motor oil or Paula taking cyanide to avoid betraying him and their combined mission-the endless list of women taken from him over the years-capped by M. M for Mildred. M like his own mother, though he would have never said it to her lovely, lined face.
And then there was Eve.
Just the thought that anyone would ever touch, or hurt Moneypenny sent a wave of fear fueled rage down 007's spine. No one would ever hurt her and live, he thought.
Why?
Bond blinked at Harry's quick thought. How could he NOT care about Eve? She was his-what? James blinked again, irritated at trying to bring what he thought into any form of clarity.
I don't know why! He inwardly snapped. I just know that Eve is mine and nobody hurts what belongs to me. Not anymore.
Harry nodded.
That's the way I feel about Ginny. She's mine too. So is Hermione. And it's up to me to protect them. They'd both kill me for thinking that.
So, would Eve, James silently laughed.
Harry stared at Bond's two day old, softly bearded face. He's lost so many people, he marveled. I couldn't take all that and stay sane. He felt his jaw tighten.
He can't lose anyone else, Potter thought behind his mental wall. Neither can I.
James stared absently. The old bruises Potter had shown Bond in his earlier class pictures were gone now. Even the ones that Bitch Umbridge had given him had disappeared, after Bond has casually mentioned them to Molly Weasley. The mother of seven had an herbal mixture that she had used on her rowdy brood over the years so what was left of Harry's educational maiming had vanished under her maternal care.
Of course, there were other scars that would never go away. You could see them in the slump of Potter's shoulders when he looked over at the other teens with their parents. Bond knew that pain from the years of boarding schools as an orphan. That was the ache of not belonging. It always came rushing back every time you heard the word, Ma.
Bond fists tightened involuntarily. He felt that rush of feelings again. Anger, sadness, protectiveness? No one is going to hurt you like that again, James thought.
You're not alone. Not anymore.
The room was silent.
James looked up to see three pairs of eyes staring at him. Harry's eyes were wide with shock. McGonagall's were too. M just stood there blinking.
Wait. Did I say that aloud?
Potter nodded, silently embarrassed for him.
Minerva continued to stare for a moment before she looked away to clear her throat.
Harry glanced over at her.
Were those, tears?
Bond felt his face flush.
Mallory spoke first.
"Well, regardless of what we two might think, it seems that the Royals feel differently about the whole thing." He tapped the small, ivory envelope on his desk. "It's an invitation to the Buckingham Palace. As soon as McGonagall's people have made the necessary repairs, the lot of you have appointments with the Queen. That includes the entire Team Flyer."
Mallory smiled. "You're all going to be knighted."
The other three gasped.
"My God," the elderly witch said. "Hogwarts students-knighted by the Queen herself?"
Potter stuttered. "What? There must be some mistake- "
Bond's mouth opened and shut. For once he had nothing to say at all. He flopped down in the nearest chair, totally dumbfounded.
"I didn't think agents could be knighted, sir," he said.
"She made an exception. Of course, it will all be done privately, and the Official Secrets means that you can't talk about it anyway. But it is quite an honor."
"I'll say!" McGonagall was on her feet fussing over her bewildered young charge. "We have to get you something suitable to wear, Potter. You and Ron both will need new robes. Ginny too. We can't have any of you looking like ragamuffins at such an occasion, can we? Come along, man!"
She practically dragged Harry out of M's office babbling all the way.
James still sat in shock. Years of work in the world's most dangerous profession, after scrapes with death at every turn, to be told that someone actually noticed and cared enough to say thank you was…unsettling.
Mallory watched Bond for a moment, then came forward with a small, silver flask in his hand. He nudged his best field agent with it.
"Scotch?" James asked, taking it from him.
"It's true that my predecessor liked it," M said ruefully. "And she had good taste as far as that goes, but I prefer personally vodka. Started drinking it during the last days of the Cold War when my Ruskie counterpart was packing up to go home. He was an old KGB dinosaur forced into retirement. I was a young, up and coming agent. We drank to the dead, the living and the future that night. Loved it ever since."
Bond tasted it. The brew was both smooth and strong, the coolness of it washed down his throat and lit his stomach up like a dry furnace.
He handed it back. "Not bad."
Mallory capped the flask and slid it back into his desk.
"You better go, 007," he said. "Like McGonagall said, it wouldn't do to stand up the Queen. Wear something suitable. Moneypenny could probably help you."
He walked past Bond. His hand dipped down to briefly grasp James' shoulder as he went passed.
"I have two, you know."
James frowned. "Two what's, sir?"
"Sons," Mallory said patiently.
"Sir, I never- "
"Doesn't matter, Bond. Whether they come from your body or get adopted by your soul, a son is a terrible, wonderful thing. They make you better than you ever would be without them." Mallory smiled again. "My father wasn't my own either. But as long as you are there for them, they will never be alone."
He squeezed.
"And neither will you."
James sat still for a moment as the door closed behind him. Nothing had ever unnerved him as much as that simple statement. The sun was past noon when he found his voice again.
He found the intercom and pressed it.
"Moneypenny, I need you."
"Oh, James, you ole smooth talker, you! This is all so very sudden…"
"You're going to help me dress for the Queen."
"You, too? I'm getting a medal for the Battle of White Hall. We can both go shopping together. I have a new Platinum card"
"Yaaay." James rubbed his temples.
"I'll shave you."
"What was that s word you used?"
"Shave, James. S-h-a-k-e. Not the other "S" word, you randy thing."
"Meet me at my apartment quick enough and we'll see about that too."
Moneypenny giggled. "I'll bring the razor. You bring the safe word."
"I never play it safe, Moneypenny."
"You better. Just the thought of Baby Bonds running around the world is enough to scare anybody."
"You too? What is this? I think I would make a good father," James said with mock indignation.
Moneypenny laughed. "James, you would make a great father," she said quietly.
Bond sputtered, speechless again.
"Got you, 007. See you at your flat."
She hung up.
Me, a Da? Bond scoffed. It did feel good to think of it someday…James shook his head, thinking of Moneypenny's bare legs and that razor.
Fatherhood could wait.
"Cruciatus!"
Severus Snape stifled a cry as dark energy ripped through his body. The Nerve Numbing Potion he had drank on his way to the Malfoy's mansion was doing its job in shielding him from the worse of the curses he was being hit with at the hands of Voldemort. But even the best magic had its work cut out for it today. Snape had seldom seen the Dark Lord so angry before now. Every twitch of that wand caused the kind of agonies described in nightmares.
Luckily there were other scapegoats for Voldemort to torture. Screams echoed through the house from every corner as he raged, "YOU MADE ME FAIL!" One and all writhed in misery as the wizard's wand swept up and down the corridors of Lucius's house cracking magic like a whip against bare flesh, bones and even the very walls of the estate. Windows shattered under his fury, slicing the air with broken glass and wood flying everywhere. The metallic smell of blood and wet plaster scented the air, mingled with the palatable stench of fear from the Death Eaters.
Meanwhile, Severus kept focusing on riding out the magical storm. He moaned at appropriate intervals, keeping his thoughts as opaque as possible. The rising tide of pain made that difficult, but Snape had a lot of practice with bullies, beginning with his own father, Tobias. The Dark Lord was just one more in a depressing line of cruel men who seemed to have it in for him.
Was that self-pity? Severus sneered at himself. That was the kind of maudlin bilge that got one killed, Enough of this. I must act!
"My Lord," Snape said, softly.
"YOU USELESS PIECES OF SMOLDERING BAT SHITE- "
"My Lord, "Severus tried again.
"STUPID, IDIOTIC, MORONS- "
The Potions Master watched a pot explode above Voldemort's head, spraying the furniture with greasy pieces of ceramic.
"I SHOULD KILL EVERYONE OF YOU, HERE AND NOW!"
"MY LORD!" Snape's hastily conjured Sonorous had its effect. The entire room-including Voldemort was stunned into total silence.
"Your plan was a veritable masterpiece, truly worthy of a person with your powers. However," Snape hesitated.
Voldemort's piggish read eyes squinted. "Yes?" he purred dangerously.
"I think your wand is at fault here."
The Dark Lord stared down stupidly at the conjuring stick in his pale, boney hand.
"What's wrong with my WAND?" he hissed.
Snape swallowed. "My Lord, if you were doing ordinary magic, I think it would have served you just fine. But, since your powers have increased exponentially, as well as your magical knowledge and abilities-"
The Dark Lord preened like a large skeleton of a Persian cat.
"Go on."
"It was the same when you tried to capture the Boy. Your old wand cracked. You wondered why at the time."
Voldemort nodded.
"It's simple. A wand is a channel for a wizard's strength. You have outgrown your wand. It is now too small for what you want to do with it."
Snape heard a sniggle behind him. "I have that problem myself, all the time." It was Alecto Carrow. "My er, wands always get too small after a while."
"The bigger, the better, I say," Terry Bullock replied. Snape turned to regard him.
He looked like his name, a big blustery wizard of little talent, except for his relation to the infamous Owle Bullock, the author of "Secrets of the Darkest Arts", one the Dark Lord's favorite books.
"It's the sizzle in the pizzle that makes a proper wand, Right, My Lord Voldemort?" He flashed a snaggle toothed grin.
The room gasped. Severus discreetly moved to his left, out of the line of fire.
In a flash of said wand, Alecto Carrow was slammed repeatedly up and down against the ceiling with audible cracking of bones. Bullock watched in horror. Then his small brain finally registered the danger he was in and aimed his enormous feet towards the front door.
He didn't get far.
"I will consider your explanation, Severus," Voldemort said quietly as his magic pinned Bullock to the far wall with a crash. "One wonders what kind of wand might use certain, SPECIAL tissues as its core."
The Dark Lord looked meaningfully at Terry's suddenly urine stained crotch. He smiled.
"Severus, go make inquiries of our special guest in the dungeons, would you? I have eh, experiments, to make with Mr. Bullock here."
The unfortunate wizard started sobbing. "Please, please. Lord, it was a joke. Just a joke!"
Voldemort snorted. "Magic is never a joke to me," he snarled, stepping closer. "The rest of you can go," he whispered as his tongue darted, tasting Bullock's fear.
The other wizards and witches stood frozen in terror.
"I said, GO! Unless you would like to help me with my ummmm, magic?"
The room emptied in a stampede for the doors. Bullock's blood curdling screams filled the air, followed by wet, pulpy sounds of tearing flesh.
Severus barely made it to the bathroom before he vomited violently, until he had dry heaves that left him shaking. Slowly he stood up and crept down to Lucius' basement, now rendered a dungeon by spells and deliberate neglect. There were cells on every side, mostly full. Snape went all the way to the back, right corner and spelled the door open.
The resident sat trembling in the dark, covered with open sores and filth.
"Have you come to feed me or kill me?" The white-haired wizard glanced up at the Potion Master's face, his voice trembling.
"Neither."
Snape raised his hand.
"Where is it?"
Garrick Ollivander stared at Severus, his mouth switching. "I'll tell you as I told HIM. There is no such thing. It is a myth; a story for children; a metaphor, nothing more. You can torture me. Kill me. Do whatever you like. But that thing does not exist."
Severus stared deeply into the wand maker's rheumy eyes. Surely the Dark Lord had been in the wizard's mind before him. But Voldemort's mental touch had become as brutal as his magic. What Snape was looking for was something subtle; a trace of an idea, a wisp of rumor mingled with speculation-ah!
He pulled his own mind back from Ollivander's.
"Yes. I understand now."
Garrick's eyes widened. "No, you mustn't. You can't give it to him! He'll be unstoppable. Don't you see that? No one must have it; especially HIM! No!"
Severus slapped the wandmaker across his temples. "Obliviate," he spat. Ollivander's gaze went blank. His lips bubbled drool.
Too much, Snape thought. He made certain adjustments as carefully as he could inside Ollivander's brain. Slowly the older wizard sat up, looking exhausted and confused.
"Who am I?" Snape asked sharply.
"Severus Snape, the Potions Master at Hogwarts. I remember your wand," he said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve." Black thorn with a scale from a Basilisk's tail at the core. Very unusual. They call that a Janus wand, because it has a dark and a light side. It chose you right away- "
"Yes, yes," Snape said, impatiently. "Tell me about the Wand."
Ollivander blinked. Severus held his breath, waiting.
The wand maker smiled. "Oh, that silly thing! There is no such thing, young man. No such thing. I told the Dark Lord that, last time."
"So, you did."
Snape let out a breath.
"I am supposed to ask you about using parts of a wizard as the core of a wand."
Garrick blanched. "That's horrible."
No kidding, Snape thought.
"Would it work?" he asked aloud.
"Well, theoretically, yes. Usually we use a magical creature to power a wand since they are Magic in a certain form and we can use something connected with them without killing them. If you used a wizard or witch you would have to drain their magical core to make it work, if at all. You know, in the old days, after a magical duel, the winner would make a combat wand from the remains of the loser. Pretty disgusting, if you ask me. Barbaric to the extreme. But, no one does that any more, thank God."
Severus stopped listening. He had gotten the information that the Dark Lord wanted, and he had also placed a Diverted Obliviate on Ollivander's mind, so the more dangerous information would remain safe-for now.
He broke into the old wizard's musings with reassurances that he had done well.
"I will see to your comfort as soon as possible," Snape added. Garrick was pathetically grateful, thanking him repeatedly as he left.
Snape apparated upstairs and quickly reported what the wand maker had said to the Dark Lord, who was in the middle of dissecting Bullock body on Malfoy's dining room table.
"Oh, thank you, Severus. I will use what you learned." He held up one bloody hand filled with pulsing tissue. "Anything for the science of magic, eh?"
The Potion Master nodded, stone faced. "My feelings exactly, My Lord."
He left with a bow and apparated back to Hogwarts gates. Once inside, he made a brief stop to the bathroom in his quarters and made his way to the portrait of the last Headmaster.
"Albus, I need to speak with you right away."
Dumbledore's eyes fluttered open in his picture, his bright blue eyes blinking behind his glasses.
"Yes, Severus?"
"Tell me everything you know about the Elder Wand."
Next Time:
Chapter Twelve-To See the Queen