Chater 14: The Descent

Seldom could Albus remember a stretch of time in which so much planning had been developed so quickly. True, his time with Fairhart had involved quite a bit of preparation, though that was more so instruction than actual devising, a general form of training that happened to be focused around a single, overarching mission. The priming that he was doing now was not nearly as vague, but instead meticulous, established once and then added to in detail every available moment. He and his friends had somewhere to be; an appointment that they needed to catch, really.

The days following his aimless venture to Darvy Street seemed to slip by unnaturally fast, though there was at once both a desire for them to halt as well as to accelerate. Of all of the clocks that Albus had set in his head-all of the hourglasses he'd overturned-the most recent to be set was also the most precise. To the very hour.

Morrison had managed a truly incredible feat, securing both the location and exact time of the next Dark Alliance meeting. Albus had devoured this information hungrily moments after learning it existed, but the details as to just how his friend had stumbled upon such information were rather jumbled; it seemed even he wasn't entirely sure.

"Let's do this one more time," Scorpius said, waving his wand casually over his cloak, altering the color to a rather specific shade. "From the top."

The three of them were sitting in their room, Morrison on the bed, Albus and Scorpius working from floor level. Albus gave his taller friend a kind smile, as a means of abating him; it was the fifth time that Scorpius was having him go over it.

Morrison sighed. "Well obviously, it starts with me chasing that little rat. He cut through that alley where all those cats are, and I followed him, but lost him for a second, so I leapt over-"

"Just skip to the meat of it," Albus encouraged him, but Scorpius gave him a patronizing look.

"I want the whole thing," he said sharply, and Morrison groaned.

"Why don't you ever believe me?" he whined.

"Well because your last tip got me and Al almost robbed, that's why-"

"Hey, that guy wasn't even after us-"

"Whatever!" Scorpius snapped, and he then gave Morrison a steely gaze. "Fine, skip the chase. But leave everything else."

Morrison nodded professionally, then placed the tips of his fingers together, as though preparing to dramatize the situation. Albus caught an annoyed look from Scorpius, but said nothing; so long as Morrison could provide accurate details, he didn't care in how it was presented.

"After that wretched bandit had eluded me, I decided to regroup in an area that I thought would be familiar. I hadn't made up my mind on if I wanted to continue in my chase, or return to you guys-"

"Fine, fine, out with it-" Scorpius barked, and Morrison sighed, his voice turning flat.

"I ended up at the bell tower. A block or so from it, maybe. And I saw some blokes walk into it."

"And just to clarify this once more," Scorpius started slowly, as though speaking to a child, "they didn't go through a door of any kind-"

"Right through the wall mate, right at the side of the tower."

"I told you guys already," Albus interrupted, "I've seen that before. Eckley's crowd, they were held up in some place, it was the same way. Only they needed ties to get through."

"It's some kind of barrier magic," Scorpius said, rubbing at his chin. "But what could you need to get through?"

"I told you already," Morrison insisted, "nothing. I got in okay, and I've got nothing on me."

"That doesn't make any sense-"

"It sort of does," Albus commented. "I doubt that these guys are being that strict with getting in and out, seeing as no one is supposed to know anyway, right? And there's not much they can have on them here, plus it seems like they're recruiting often...it may just be a secret place, somewhere to gather."

"You sure they're not using masks or anything, like the ties were being used?" Scorpius asked. "Morrison said that they all had masks-"

"But I didn't," Morrison reminded him.

"Damn, that's right-"

"And I doubt it's a secret-keeper either," Albus told them both, "like what Waddlesworth was using for WAR. That involves too much, and it's way too chaotic for what they're doing. They're just relying on how shady this place is to keep them secret. We can get in."

He said this last part affirmatively, as if to assure himself even further. Scorpius gave a begrudging sigh at these words, then returned his attention to Morrison.

"If you say so," he said. "Anyone, once we're in, what are we dealing with again? What's the first thing you did?"

"Well I followed them in," Morrison said simply. "Not too long after they went, I went. 'Course, I didn't know then that they were part of Darvy's lot-I suspected it a bit, but didn't know it-but I went in, figured it might be a lead. Did some wandering around on my own; place is really big, creepy looking on the inside too, definitely expanded magically. But handsome," he added, as though it had only come to him now, upon further retrospection.

"And when you finally walked into the meeting room," Scorpius said testily, "there was-"

"Probably a good fifty of them," Morrison told him, and Albus raised his eyebrows in panic. Scorpius scowled though.

"Fifty!? The first time you said twenty-"

"I dunno, twenty to fifty! Somewhere in that range-"

"Well there's a big difference, mate!" Scorpius said, throwing his arms out. "The same difference between zero and thirty, actually, so try and remember-"

"Say maybe thirty-five?" Albus asked his friend. "Too many to count, but they all fit?"

"Yeah, that's about right," Morrison said, turning away from Scorpius completely, who was now seething. "Everyone definitely had a seat, we were at this big, long, marble table. That's when I noticed that some of them had their masks on."

"And the same masks-"

"I've seen the Dark Alliance loads of times," Morrison defended prematurely. "Crashed my sister's wedding and all, didn't they? They were the same masks, trust me on this."

"Okay, fine, so you took a seat and then...just kept your mouth shut?"

"I was in a daze mate, didn't know what to do," Morrison told him. "Had half a mind to run out of there," he added, sounding slightly embarrassed at the thought. "But no one asked me any questions, so I sat there, between some witch with red hair and some bloke with a fat nose, and I listened. No one recognized me, I guess."

"Well admittedly, you haven't be on their immediate to-kill list before," Albus said, feeling his heart sink. "Me just sitting there might be a different story."

"And same here," Scorpius said sourly, looking down and focusing on his work. "My family's probably had some of them over for supper before. We're definitely going to need to be hidden."

"Well that's why we're hard at work," Albus said, now discarding his cloak-which he thought he'd crafted sufficiently-and picking up one of the blank, solid masks that Scorpius had purchased for the three of them from a shifty clothing outlet the day prior. "Now let's get you all touched up," he said to it, now waving his wand in a different pattern.

The idea to have them dress as Dark Alliance members had come naturally, but the actual manner in which the task was met had been a point of contention. Morrison had placed no real stake in anything, but Albus had put forth the idea of ambushing real members and taking their clothing, for the most efficient accuracy conceivable. Scorpius had point-blank refused this, insisting it was an unnecessary risk, and had instead had the idea to assemble their attire and simply alter it magically as needed. As usual, his friend's doggedness-coupled with his verbosity-had won out, and the result was that they now sat with only two nights left to craft their disguises and ensure that they were as ready as they were ever going to be.

"You know, this would have been a lot easier if you'd just brought your Cloak along with you," Morrison said, apparently unwilling to let silence take over. He had all but given up on his outfit for the night, however-Albus had the shrewd suspicion that Scorpius would end up finishing it with moments to spare.

"Yeah, that's occurred to me a few times now," Albus responded sullenly, not wanting to think about it.

Scorpius seemed to catch on to his indignation at the remark, for he once more launched them into discussion about the meeting that Morrison had miraculously managed to attend in full.

"And for the very last time," he started out of nowhere, looking up at his friend expectantly, "let's go over just what it is you heard."

Morrison went quiet for a moment, as though to sort his thoughts, but Albus squirmed inwardly. Scorpius may have been attempting to steer them into more comfortable territory, but this was hardly the question to ask, considering that everything Morrison had told them before had been nauseating for him. And it seemed that this time, there was no debate in his memory of what he'd heard.

"Well...just that Darvy was ready to start rebuilding his army," he said, and Albus felt a chill go through his spine. No matter how many times it was uttered, it always had the same effect.

"But no word on where? Where he was?"

Albus knew that Scorpius' reasoning behind this question was largely inspired by hope that they could skip their current plan entirely. It was all about finding Darvy, after all, and if they could learn of his location, there wouldn't be much benefit to the drastic lengths that they were approaching. But as before, Morrison couldn't offer anything of the sort.

"Sorry," he said. "No word on it. Even seemed like they didn't know. Though it sounded like he wasn't here; like he'd left them behind to do things."

Albus gave the tiniest of nods; he'd come to this conclusion previously, after all, and these words now had done just as they'd done before-served as horrible confirmation of the matter. But Morrison still had more to offer.

"Also mentioned tons of stuff about storing the potions they'd been making, something about a portrait, a bunch of talk on some bloke named Markson-"

"Markson," Scorpius repeated, "I've heard that name before..."

"Same here," Albus told him. "Couldn't point him out, but he's been part of that lot for a while, I'm sure of it."

"Yeah, well just stuff like that," Morrison said. "But like I mentioned before...they just seemed...I dunno. Like they were really unsure of themselves. Like whatever was going on, they weren't actually in on it. I remember being there and having the feeling that they felt a little left out of the loop."

Albus caught a nervous look on Scorpius' face following these words, and could only assume that his friend was thinking over the same thing that he was; there was a chance-a small one, but a chance nonetheless-that the Dark Alliance meeting they'd be attending was actually going to push them in the wrong direction. Especially if these red-masked wizards and witches were actually more similar to the Dark Defectors than to the collection of dark wizards that Darvy had amassed.

"What are you guys thinking?" Morrison said after a moment, eyeing the both of them suspiciously. Albus made to speak, but Scorpius, predictably, made the very suggestion that he was going to make; bar a slight twist.

"I think I'm going to scout out the bell tower tomorrow," he said.

"Alone?" Albus asked testily, and Scorpius gave him a firm, defiant nod.

"If any of them are hanging around there, you're most likely to be identified," he argued. "And you," he added to Morrison, "may be recognized just because you were there before-that could lead to some awkward questions. Now I may have a Malfoy look to me, but at least I haven't been seen there before. Besides, I'm best at fitting in around here."

Albus groaned, wishing that he could provide a reasonable counterargument, but he simply couldn't muster one. So instead he returned to coloring his mask, which was already too bright in its redness, and kept to his own thoughts. Until Morrison sighed and collapsed on the bed, that is.

"So much easier with the Cloak," he lamented.

By the time that Albus had awoken the next day, Scorpius had already left for his bout of reconnaissance, leaving he and Morrison to ensure that all of their other affairs where in order. Apart from finishing the uniforms, they were also tasked with ensuring that they would have a smooth departure available in the event that their time in Kakos was coming to a close. This meant that Morrison was forced to haggle with Colton over items of a monetary nature, while Albus tended to their room upstairs, gathering their belongings for what might well need to be a quick exit.

The mats that he and Scorpius had been sleeping on could be rolled up come morning, but the tent needed to be packed away, as did the supplies that now littered their humble dwelling. There were cans and jars of food that needed sorting, clothes that needed to be packed up, and, perhaps most importantly, slips of parchment that needed to be organized; Scorpius had been quite diligent in his accumulation of notes, and they were keen on leaving none of it behind.

And then, there came his own belongings. Just as when he'd left Struckton, there was little for him to consider bringing along-only two wands and a blank sheet of parchment.

Fairhart's letter remained wiped, and yet Albus was certain that even if he never removed the enchantment, he would still consider the sheet invaluable. It was the words of his friend and mentor that had guided him through much of his journey thus far, but moreover, he felt as though it were his responsibility to keep Fairhart's views close. The last thing that the scarred man had ever written had been of encouragement towards him, and Albus wanted to ensure that these words did not go to waste. Of all that Farhart had done for him, from teaching him complex magic, to training him to track and gather information, to pushing his plans of stopping Darvy into the direction that they were now, it was his words of kindness that Albus appreciated most.

The sleeve of parchment would thus remain on him, stowed away even within his disguise, nestled next to another item that wasn't truly his; Ares' wand.

Fango Wilde's peace offering had been beneficial back in Struckton, effectively aiding him in his escape from the Dark Defectors and, consequently, leading him here. The wand that Reginald Ares had once used bared no emotional significance to him, not in the way Fairhart's letter did anyway, and yet, Albus could not help but feel drawn to it, as though it were something more than simply another tool at his disposal. However little he'd known of Ares-whatever his thoughts on his father's once friend may be or may have been-there was a connection of sorts between them. Both of them had been elected by the Dragonfang Wand after all, and both of them had ultimately been destined to succumb to its devices in exchange for the power that it offered. But at the time of Ares' death, he'd still valued his own wand more; this was evident in that it had served to activate the Foulest Book. And that meant that Ares had still clung to his identity, had still, at that time at least, been himself; had died as himself.

Albus removed his own wand, examining it next to Ares'. It was slightly shorter, and not quite as pointed, and his handle was crafted in a slightly smoother way, allowing for more comfortable swishing. He held it under his gaze sadly, recalling all that it had done for him. This wand did not evoke that sense of control in him that the Dragonfang Wand did, that awesome surge of power that had frustrated, yet amused him for so long. And yet, he was very happy to say to himself that he preferred his own. Perhaps that itself was the reason why; because it was his own, had had no other owners. It was part of his identity.

I hope I die how Ares did, he thought inwardly, and bizarre though the thought was, he felt no desire to take it back. His wish was not for the betrayal that Ares had endured, nor the pain or the suffering, but rather, for his state of being; for, despite the temptations of the Dragonfang Wand, remaining true to himself.

"Everything alright, mate?"

Albus hastily stowed both wands away, turning abruptly as he did so. Morrison was standing in their room, looking flustered, in the act of closing the door behind him.

"Yeah, I- can I ask you something?"

He wasn't sure why he was suddenly in the mood to discuss it; especially as it had only been days ago that he'd asked Scorpius to refrain from even mentioning it. But somehow, having Morrison enter the room and kindly initiate conversation had taken him back to his years at Hogwarts, when such things had been so commonplace. Morrison capitalized on his nostalgia immediately.

"Sure thing, what's going on?"

Albus sat down on the bed, sinking into it uncomfortably. Looking up, he tried to choose his words carefully.

"You- you've seen me...when I'm all messed up," he said. "Like when the Hogwarts Express got attacked, like that. And you were there the first time, too-"

"I remember," Morrison cut him off, shifting his eyes about as though he wasn't quite sure where the conversation could be turning. "Why?"

Albus scratched at the back of his neck, voicing a thought that had been creeping about in his head for quite some time, even if it had never been organized into words.

"If that's how I- how I end up. Like if that's the last thing you see me as, as that- that monster. Is that how you...is that how you would remember me?"

"Nothing's going to happen to you Al," Morrison said, sounding almost annoyed. He then took a seat next to him. "Honestly, you act like everything's done and over with, there's plenty that can happen-"

"I know," Albus interjected, feeling his stomach churn. "I know-I'm sure I'll be fine," he lied. "But if- if that were the case..."

He trailed off here, hoping that Morrison was going to take his question seriously. And to Albus' very great surprise, he did.

"Of course not," his friend said. "I couldn't remember you like that, because I know that's not you. It's not like you just get angry, or sad, and have little mood swings now and then, is it? It's a different thing entirely. I know you, Al. Scorpius does too. And so does your mum, your dad, your brother and sister, Mirra-we all know you. We know you can be a git, we know you can be a hasty little bugger, and we know-probably more than anything else-that you're not the type of person that lobs trains at people. So stop worrying about it, okay?"

Albus said nothing, only giving his friend a wry smile. Morrison's words had calmed and reassured him, but at the same time, he could not escape that his friend had been wrong on a fundamental level. The ominous Albus with glowing eyes and a sadistic sneer was him. It was triggered by the Dragonfang Wand, yes, but it had existed inside of him already, simply requiring the Wand to take form. Morrison and others close to him were not aware of this fact, and despite his recent policy of providing truth to his friends, Albus thought it an overall better decision to refrain from putting forth such ideas.

Morrison seemed to be content with his own answer, though, as at the next moment he'd risen, stretching his lanky body wide and giving a yawn.

"Well now that that's sorted," he started, "I've got some more errands to run. Cleared things up with Colton, but I sort of lost us our meal for the night, so going to go and scrounge something up. Should be back around when Scorpius is. You should get to bed early though," he added, giving him a shrewd look.

Albus raised his eyebrows. "Why?"

"Because you look a little anxious," Morrison told him. "We've got a big day tomorrow, and it seems like you've got everything put together here, so turn in early, eh? Quiet down that head of yours. Take the bed," he added, giving him a grin.

Albus answered with a grin of his own, prepared to combat this suggestion, but the temptation to rest his back after more than a week of sleeping on a hard floor was too great. And so, he gave a reluctant nod, followed by a mild wave as his friend exited.

How long he lay there in bed he wasn't quite sure, but the stillness of being alone proved to be both haunting and refreshing. Darkness encroached him slowly as he blinked his eyes in a tired pattern; he had not realized it before, but taking part in such mundane activities had exhausted him, even with the day only half over. Voices were swimming about in his ears as he buried his head in his arms, audible but indistinct, until a low whimper made his skin crawl.

"Don't..."

Albus perked his ears up, feeling feverish. At first there was nothing, and then...

"Please..."

He tore the thin, moth-eaten blanket off of him, standing up and surveying the cramped room. No sooner had his feet touched the cold floor did he hear the piteous moan again, this time accompanied by what might have been sniffling.

"Why? Why?"

Albus spun on the spot, expecting to see the source of the noise, but there was nothing. There was nothing anywhere in the darkness, nothing beside himself, the bed, and the things that he'd packed. And yet, the room seemed larger. More barren.

And then he heard another voice, a more fragile, cracking one, one mixed with a desperate sob.

"Al!"

He saw it. In the corner, someone was huddled, knees to chin, tangled black hair masking her face. But he knew who it was; he'd known from the first word.

"Mirra!" he breathed, hurrying over to her, but the room seemed to stretch on unusually long-he was out of breath when he reached her.

"What are you- what are you doing here?" he demanded of her, cold sweat accumulating on his skin. He knelt at her side, just as she looked up at him, her deep grey eyes blotchy.

"Why?" she repeated, and when he went to touch her, she recoiled. Albus stared, not understanding anything. How had she gotten here? What had happened? Why was she crying?

And then he saw it. She slid her legs out, showing that she was in her night gown, and somehow-impossibly-two other figures appeared, visible in the crevice formed by her upright body. Both had flaming red hair, and one was holding on to the other.

Hugo looked at him, Lily's head cradled on his shoulder. Her eyes were widened, but blank; she was dead.

"No!"

Albus grabbed at her, actually pushing Mirra aside; she felt solid and weighty as she collapsed next to him. But he didn't register it, he'd already removed Lily from his cousin's arms, sinking to his knees, cradling her-

"Al!"

He turned, only to see a light shining in his face.

"What the hell are you doing, mate?"

Albus stared through the darkness in confusion, holding an arm up to shield his eyes. At the next moment it become unnecessary, however, as the entire room had become illuminated.

It was Scorpius who had his wand pointed, the tip of which had extinguished itself just as light had flooded the room. Morrison stood by the door, eyeing him warily.

Albus looked down, then all around them. There was no one there.

"What's going on?" Scorpius asked him.

"I- I was asleep," he said, and he wasn't even sure if he was lying or not. That could not have been a dream; it had been so real...he had felt her...

"You weren't asleep," Morrison informed him. "Your eyes were open, you were just like that there, cryi-"

Scorpius cleared his throat, which served as a signal of sorts; Morrison cut himself off swiftly. Albus felt his face burn red though. Part of it was embarrassment, but yet, Scorpius had seen this behavior before, and he'd just spoken to Morrison about his troubles. The true reason behind the queasiness that he felt now, he realized, was that the hallucination that he'd just endured had been his most realistic yet.

"What time is it?" he asked, wondering if he'd even slept. It certainly didn't feel like it.

"It's late," Scorpius said cryptically, before casting a look over his shoulder at Morrison.

Albus winced at this somewhat, though felt that it was a justifiable exchange. Unwilling to argue, he pulled himself to his feet, only to find that Scorpius remained unmoving.

"Anything you want to talk about?" he asked, sounding concerned.

Albus frowned. "Nothing you guys don't already know about," he admitted.

"Well let's just get some sleep in," Morrison said, approaching one of the mats on the floor-it seemed as though his gesture from earlier still stood.

"Yeah," Albus agreed, rubbing at the back of his neck. Without helping it, he cast a sideways glance at the corner where he'd been though. He wasn't sure if Scorpus caught it or not, but if he did, he didn't press the point.

"Try not to worry," his friend told him, and Albus nearly laughed as he crawled back into the bed. "I'm serious," Scorpius went on. "I scoped the place out, and we're in as good a shape as can be. I think we've really got a shot at this tomorrow. We just need our rest."

The lights went off after this-presumably due to Morrison-and a stretch of silence followed. Albus simply lay there, back in the bed, listening as his friends settled themselves into their respective places on the floor, and it wasn't until he was certain that they were not going to get up and address him that he spoke aloud.

"I feel like it all comes down to tomorrow," he croaked.

"We'll just have to see-" Morrison's voice pierced the darkness, but Albus fought it off.

"Not just the meeting, not just the Dark Alliance. I just- I have this feeling. Like once we start, it has to end. And I think- and I think you guys should know that-"

"We know mate," Scorpius said. "And I feel it too," he added.

There was a moment of waiting-

"Fine," Morrison sighed. "I feel it too, okay? But can we please just hold off on it tonight? I spent all damn day dealing with that old coot, I'm exhausted."

Albus smiled. "Yeah. Night, guys."

"Night..."

"Night, mate..."

Albus had the sudden urge to pull bed hangings together, but his fingers seemed to die before they could even begin moving. Instead he rolled on his side, trying desperately to clear his thoughts, only to have them erupt in his head mercilessly.

He remembered the potion that he'd brewed. Just weeks ago, in Fairhart's cabin, he'd set the whole plan in motion. That concoction that seemed to have successfully destroyed the Foulest Book was now gone...and that meant that he had virtually no options on how to solve the second of his two, accompanying problems. Tomorrow was his chance to gather Darvy's complete whereabouts. To learn where Death's Right Hand was hiding, that he might meet him, and finish what they started on the island that had housed Azkaban. But where Darvy was, the Dragonfang Wand would be too. Ares had casted doubt on the Mortem Necavero, but then, at least it had been something. What existed now, that he could obtain in such a short amount of time? Ares had researched the Wand better than anyone, better than Fairhart even, and he seemed to acknowledge it as a living thing, or as close to such a thing as something nonliving could be. Complete destruction would be insufficient, according to him. But what then, could Albus do?

He felt a tear slide down his cheek at the prospect, for the first time since the night where he'd learned of his fate. That hallucination that he'd just suffered had been so twisted, so real-his mind truly was going. What frightened him most now was that the indications he'd always had of his slipping were soon going to cease completely, but then, wasn't that what the issue actually was? Could someone insane realize when they were acting as such? Could someone who'd lost their mind know that it was missing?

It doesn't matter, he told himself, and he knew, somehow, that it was really him who was speaking in his head. That sinister aspect of his consciousness was done tormenting him for the night. It doesn't matter what happens to me, as long as I stop him. As long as they're safe.

This thought burned itself into him, more clear than any other he could remember having. He allowed that feeling of inspiration to course through him as he lay there, blocking out the snores that Morrison had already brought to his ears, waiting for sleep to come to him so that the agonizing night prior to their action in the morning could pass, so that he could make his desires a reality.

"Al?"

Albus felt his heartbeat quicken, before realizing that it was just Scorpius speaking, his voice slightly lower.

"Hmm?" he grunted back.

"Do you- do you remember how nervous we would get, the night before a Quiddicth game?"

Albus thought about it for only a moment before grinning. "Yeah," he whispered. "I do. Why?"

Scorpius took a few seconds to respond, but when he did, it sounded as though he'd rolled himself over. "No reason," he said. "Just wondering."

Albus said nothing, and after a time, he too rolled back over.