Chapter Twenty Five: Vanguard
"Thanks for escorting me home," Hermione smiled at the redhead. "International travel is so complicated!"
"My pleasure, Miss Hermione." Her companion said something more, but it wasn't in any language she understood.
"Sky," she said warningly, and the kid grinned sheepishly.
"Thanks for putting up with me. I understand I can be somewhat trying."
"Only when you start speaking Greek in the middle of a goodbye," she told him wryly.
"Oh, that wasn't Greek-"
"Sky."
"See. Somewhat trying." They both laughed.
Hermione glanced up the stairs to her front porch. She had never really noticed the two steps before, because she had never had any trouble getting up them. Usually she just jumped over them both. Now they acted as a barrier that kept her from inviting her new friend inside. Would it be rude to issue on invitation that the wheelchair-bound teen wouldn't be able to accept? Or would it be worse to simply say goodbye on the front lawn?
"Um, could you – I mean, would you like to come in?" she blushed. That didn't sound as smooth as she had intended it.
"I would love to," Sky smiled up at her, eyes crinkling. "Is anyone likely to notice if I cast a levitation spell?"
"Can you do that? I mean, underage restrictions and everything! And no, no one would notice."
"The beautiful thing about being from Egypt is that I only have to answer to Egyptian law. Wingardium leviosa."
Hermione grinned and followed her new friend up onto the porch, then held open the door.
"MOM! DAD! I'm home!"
"Hi honey! Your father is still at the office, so it's just… Oh, hello! Hermione didn't tell me she was bringing a friend."
"Sky brought me home, mom. I figured the least I could do was-"
"Yes, yes," Sarah interrupted, stepping forward and offering her hand to their guest, a big smile firmly spread across her face. "Welcome to our home. I'm Sarah, Hermione's mother."
"Nice to meet you, Ma'am. I'm Sky Lee."
"Skylee? That's such a pretty name! Where are you from? You don't sound British."
"No, Ma'am. I'm from Egypt, actually."
"Ooh, how exotic! When Hermione was little she wanted to be an Egyptologist and explore the pyramids."
"Really?" Sky looked over at Hermione with a grin. "That's a worthy profession."
"I tried to get mom and dad to take me to see the pyramids, but they took me to Paris instead."
"Paris? Well, France is better than nothing," Sky laughed. Hermione rolled her eyes and Sarah beamed happily.
"So how did you two meet?" Sarah asked, sitting down so she was eye level with the redhead. Hermione sat down too, suddenly conscious of the fact she was looming over her friend. "I don't remember Hermione ever talking about you before."
"Sky is one of Brie's friends from before Hogwarts. We hit it off well at the party."
"Oh, that's nice Hermione. Do you know, Skylee, this is the first time Hermione has brought one of her friends home? She goes to their houses during the summer, but she never brings anyone home! I'm so thrilled to meet a friend of hers from the magical world."
Sky shot Hermione an amused look, obviously unsure of how to respond to her mother's pronouncement.
"Look, I'm sorry mom! It's just, most of my friends don't have access to Muggle transportation!"
"That hasn't stopped you," Sarah pointed out archly, then laughed and smiled. "Never mind. Would you like to stay for dinner, Skylee?"
"Thank you, Ma'am, I'd love to."
Dinner conversation was cheerful, though Hermione felt a bit embarrassed by her mother's subtle yet relentless pumping for information. She also felt a little guilty. Many of the things her mother asked sought to clarify magical matters that affected day to day life – things she should have been hearing from Hermione over the past few years.
Of course, Hermione was very open with her parents. She didn't try to keep things from them – it just didn't always occur to her that certain things needed to be explained. After her first month at Hogwarts, in which she had written home every other day bubbling with excitement, things had become common place to her. They ceased to surprise her, and thus ceased to strike her as something her parents NEEDED to know.
Somehow Sky made everything seem easy and accessible. He didn't treat her mother like an idiot for questioning the fundamentals of society, and for the first time Hermione wondered if he was pureblood or not. She had assumed he was because of his friendship with the mal Théas, but he acted like someone who worked closely with the non-magical world. How fascinating.
"And where do you go to school, Sky?"
"I don't go to school, Ma'am."
"You don't?" Sarah sounded scandalized, and privately Hermione agreed with her. "But education is extremely important!"
"Yes, Ma'am. When I was little I had a private tutor, but these days I usually study independently."
"What do you study?"
"History and linguistics."
"Magical history?" Sarah's interest was obviously piqued.
"Yes, Ma'am. Non-magical, too. My parents are archaeologists, and I help with their digs. I immerse myself entirely into the history and language of the culture we're studying, both magical and non-magical."
"Fascinating!"
After a few more leading questions about Sky's life, Sarah guided the conversation toward magical life in modern times, and how it affected her daughter. When they weren't playing 20 questions, Hermione made herself a lively presence in their conversation. It was fun – her mother especially seemed to enjoy the interaction. Hermione reminded herself to host a party at her house over the summer.
Eventually the topic of politics came up, much to Hermione's dismay. She continued to keep her parent's mostly uninformed about the current unrest in the Wizarding World. They knew there HAD been a Dark Lord who tried to kill everyone not of pure blood, but she hadn't said anything about the fact that his followers were becoming active again. She didn't want them to worry.
Luckily Sky was far less informed about current history than about ancient history. There was some vague talk around the prejudice against muggleborns, but nothing was said about the Death Eaters. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.
"I noticed your house isn't warded," Sky said in a sudden lull in conversation. "That's inviting trouble these days, you know."
Hermione winced. "Oh, I don't know about that," she hedged, desperately trying to communicate that she didn't want to talk about it with her mother. Sky frowned, but got the message and changed the subject.
When dinner was over, Sky drew Hermione aside as Sarah began clearing the table.
"Look, it's not my business, but even I know it is folly not to ward your house. Especially as a Muggleborn."
"I know," Hermione moaned. "It's just, the Ministry charges 15 galleons an hour for an 'Official Wardscrafter' to come. I can't afford that, and I don't want to tell my parents why they need to cough up that much money. I'll be of age next year."
"Why don't you ask one of your professors?"
"I have. McGonagall expressed sympathy and concern, and said my name would be added to the list of children who need wards on their homes."
"Have you asked Brie?" this question was pointed where the others had been polite. Hermione blushed.
"I don't want to bother him. He's so… I don't want to ask him to come so far out of his way, you know?"
"Look, it really needs to be done. If I had the power to do it for you, I would. I don't. Ask Brie. Call him."
"What, now?"
"Yeah. I'll provide moral support." Sky offered a comforting smile and Hermione nodded slowly. She would ask Brie for a favor. He would do it for her, because they were friends. She grabbed the phone off the hook and allowed Sky to dial Brie's number. She and Gabriel were friends. She could ask her friend for a favor. How hard was it to ask friends for favors? Friends helped their friends. Friends-
"Allo?"
Hermione jumped slightly at the knock on the front door. She glanced down at her watch, cursing slightly when she realized that she had been reading for the past three hours. That definitely had not been her intention. The plan had been to get the house tidied up a bit before her guests arrived, but oh well. Brie would just have to live with the fact that not everyone had a servant living in their house to clean up after them.
The knock came a second time, and Hermione hurried toward the door. "Just a moment!" she called as she slid open the bolt on the door.
Two men in business suits stood on her porch.
"Oh," she stammered, looking between them in surprise. Not who she'd been expecting. "Hello. Can I help you?"
"Are you Hermione Granger?" the man on the left inquired in a polite tone of voice.
Hermione shifted nervously, muscles tensing as her fight or flight instincts began kicking in. The only thing keeping her from slamming the door in their faces was their apparent ease in their Muggle attire. No Death Eater she had ever heard of would appear so comfortable in a suit.
Besides, Brie had told her that he would come to set up her wards in exactly two minutes – even if they were Death Eaters, she could put up enough of a fight that Brie would be able to figure out what had happened. And, for some odd reason, she had absolutely no doubt that the other teenager would devote himself to keeping her safe if it came down to that. If these men meant to harm her, she would have backup soon.
"Yes," she responded, only hesitating slightly. "And you are?"
"Egan. My colleague is Lieutenant Rodriguez. The Lieutenant General sends his regrets that he could not make it himself, but wishes you to know that he considers your safety a priority. That's why we're here, ma'am."
"Yes?" she prompted, allowing a bit of tension to flow away. They were saying all the right things to put her at ease. She wasn't prepared to let them into her house yet, especially without her wand in hand, but she was willing to hear them out and consider what they had to say.
"I'm a wards specialist, ma'am. You may contact the ASW-Canada for my credentials, though I assure you that the General only hires the best."
Hermione believed that. She couldn't imagine a mal Théa ever settling for even second best. If they were who they claimed to be.
"Please excuse me for a moment," she said, politely closing the door in their faces. She could still see them through the glass, standing at their ease on the porch. Taking a deep breath she retreated into the hall to verify their story.
"Pick up," she muttered as the phone rang.
"Allo?"
"Hello! Brie, this is Hermione."
"Ah," he didn't sound at all surprised. In fact, he sounded amused. "I thought you might call. Good for you—I am pleased that you take your own safety seriously. Egan and Rodriguez are from me; they'll do a better job with your security than I could."
Hermione raised her eyebrows at this admission that he couldn't do everything better than everyone else. Apparently there was one modest bone in his body. She wouldn't hold out hope for a second.
After a few lines of small talk, she hung up and returned to the door. The two men hadn't moved a muscle. It only took a few more minutes to set the entire process in motion. Somehow the two men seemed to fill the house with bustle. Magic thrummed around Egan as Rodriguez began coaching her on proper safety procedures in case of an attack. Four grueling hours later, the Granger home could have survived a nuclear bomb exploding on the roof with absolutely no effect.
Hermione sent each man home with a box of still warm Muggle-made cookies and her profuse thanks. They thanked her for the former and waved off the later. And just like that, it was over. Her house was safe, her parents were none the wiser, and she was suddenly deeply in debt to Gabriel mal Théa.
She wasn't particularly comforted by that last point.
-Hogwarts-
Brie idly traced patterns on the smooth wood of the table as he listened to the Ancient Runes professor talk about the term project. He vaguely recalled hearing something about it before break, but he hadn't put much thought into it then. Now the professor was giving the specifications for the group project that they were supposed to have come up with ideas for over break.
At least it was going to be a group project. His eyes flicked around the circular table, lingering on each member of his so-called pod. The group dynamics would prove far more interesting than the actual project, or so he suspected.
Hermione was taking careful notes – one of the reasons he wasn't bothering to do so – and looked altogether too excited. Not that he was surprised. From what Egan and Rodriguez reported, she had taken a copious amount of interest in their work as well. Add to that the time and effort she always put into her Potions homework, and she was almost as bad as Levi. Maybe he would kidnap her some weekend and take her on one of his training excursions.
Anya was taking notes as well, giving the professor her complete attention. Why was it that someone as unscholarly as Brie had managed to become best friends with three of the smartest, most devoted students in the school? It was food for his thoughts. He wasn't even half as smart as any of them, though at least he could hold his own during the practicals.
Blaise, like Brie, was paying attention without bothering to take notes. The girls liked him well enough that, when he asked, they were willing to let him copy their notes. The two boys exchanged a glance and Blaise rolled his eyes slightly at their fifth companion.
From a distance Draco appeared to be taking notes, but the vacant look in his eyes and the strange doodles on his parchment indicated otherwise. There were dark circles under the eyes of the blond Slytherin that not even pick-me-up spells could alleviate. Brie didn't much care for the other aristocrat, but he was still curious what was causing this uncharacteristic slump.
It had been a busy break for his Lord Uncle's social club, and Lucius Malfoy was an elite member. Was he preparing his son to follow in his footsteps? It was a distinct possibility, and Brie was seized with a strange desire to prevent it from happening.
Brie frowned to himself. He would need to explore this emotion in depth when he had the time. It was alien to him to help someone purely from the goodness of his heart, and he doubted that the Slytherin would give him any thanks for his concern. Finally he decided to dismiss it for the moment. He would consider it later. For now he needed to begin consulting with his group about this stupid project.
"I was thinking that it would be fascinating to research the use of runes in the old ritualistic magics," Hermione announced, looking around the group. Her eyes seemed to skip over Malfoy as if he wasn't there, focusing on Anya instead. After all, it would no doubt be the two girls who seized control of the group and guided them all to a good grade.
"Perhaps non-Latin based rituals," Anya suggested, sounding intrigued.
"What about Blood rituals?" Blaise threw in, teeth flashing white against his dark skin as he grinned.
"Isn't that Dark Magic?" Hermione asked hesitantly. The other four people at the table smirked at her.
"It is," Brie agreed nonchalantly. "But it's hardly illegal to research."
"Unless the mu-Muggleborn is afraid of a little real magic," Malfoy sneered, though his eyes darted toward Brie with his near slip. Brie gave him a predatory smile and Malfoy shut his mouth.
"No," Hermione snapped. "We'll research non-Latin based Blood rituals if that's what everyone wants."
"Lovely," Blaise looked pleased with himself, leaning back in his chair. "This should prove… enlightening." The look he gave Brie was not reassuring, and for the first time Brie stopped to consider the ramifications of studying this particular subject.
Such as the fact that he was a living example of a non-Latin based Blood ritual.
The words 'oh crap' seemed strangely appropriate.
A week sped past. Then two, and suddenly school had been back in session for a month. Brie wasn't quite sure how it happened, but he knew he'd spent an absolutely ungodly amount of time in the Library. The girls had decided to push the envelope with the project for Ancient Runes, and instead of waiting until the end of the term like everyone else, they were insisting that they get the work done now.
Even worse than spending time in the Library was the fact that Brie was actually doing some of the research. He had gotten used to hanging out there with Levi, but he was usually reading military history or Salazar's journal or something equally interesting. Now, however…
"That's it," Brie announced, closing the book with a satisfying thud and standing. "We're taking a break. Get your brooms and meet me on the Quidditch pitch in five minutes."
Four faces stared at him blankly, but he crossed his arms and glared balefully back.
"Brie," Hermione sighed.
"Hermione," he shot back, before she could scold him. "If you really must continue working on this project, then bring it up as a conversation piece. Outdoors. In the air. We've been at this for a month, and if I spend another minute cooped up in this Shiva forsaken dust trap then I cannot be held responsible for my actions."
"He has a point," Draco's expression was sour at being forced to agree with Brie. "This is getting ridiculous, Granger."
"It isn't her fault," Anya snapped, glaring at the blond. "This project is worth much of our grade, and is proving quite fascinating." She held her fierce expression for a moment, then relented. "Though I, too, could use some air."
"Very well." Blaise stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder. "No one will touch our table. Lets go fly."
Hermione wasn't quite sure what had happened since she had come back from break. All she knew was that it involved a research project on an obscure topic and a lot of time spent in the Library with people she wasn't sure she liked.
Oh, she liked Anya well enough, and Brie was practically a friend – but spending her time with Slytherins? With Draco Malfoy? She didn't know how that had happened.
And if just working on a project together wasn't bad enough, now she was on a broom, playing catch with two Slytherins. Could life get much stranger? As soon as she thought the words, she grimaced. Now she had gone and jinxed herself.
Sure enough, as she flew outside the arena to fetch their stray ball, she saw Professor Black talking heatedly with… Was that Professor Lupin? What was he doing back at Hogwarts? Curiosity had always been one of Hermione's weaknesses, and she gave into it now with little resistance.
A quick disillusionment spell allowed her to fly close enough to hear their words, and what they had to say was well worth the risk. Five minutes later she rejoined her peers, wide eyed and empty handed.
"Granger! What took you so long?" Blaise called as she approached. "And where's the ball?"
"I… I couldn't find it," she told them, shrugging and trying to smile. "Let's go back in." She looked around nervously. "Now. Please?"
"Is something wrong?" Anya flew closer, a look of genuine concern on her face.
Hermione shrugged. How did you tell someone that you had just overheard a private conversation regarding the current state of You-Know-Who's amassing army? Or that the savior of your world was apparently not stashed safely away as most people believed. That he was, in fact, missing and presumed dead by those who knew the truth?
"I'm cold," she said instead. "And it'll be getting dark soon. Let's take a break from the project for the rest of the night."
Shrugging, Brie led the decent to the field and the five headed back toward the castle.
Brie looked down at the letter in confusion. Why would Shay need him today? In the middle of the week? Not that Brie minded skipping school, of course – it just struck him as a little odd, considering the rules at Hogwarts didn't really allow this sort of thing. Still, there was nothing he could do but show the letter to the Headmaster.
Politely excusing himself from the Gryffindors, he walked purposefully up to the Head Table. Several of the professors were watching him, and Snape looked almost irritated. Not that he ever didn't look irritated – it was just that he seemed irritated with Brie, which was fairly unusual. Dumbledore smiled inanely at his approach.
"Hello my boy," he greeted jovially. Brie's eyes narrowed slightly at the endearment, but he decided not to pursue it at the moment. He had more important things to worry about then one old man taking liberties with his name.
"Headmaster. May I speak with your privately?"
"Certainly," the Headmaster's eyes sparkled, and he stood immediately. Brie wondered what it was the old man thought the conversation was going to be about.
Instead of walking all the way to the Headmaster's office, Brie opened the door to the first old classroom they came across. Dumbledore hid his surprise well and simply stepped into the room and sat at the teacher's desk. Brie was impressed at the old man's adaptability, but made sure not to show it.
"Have a seat," the Headmaster waved his wand and one of the student chairs trotted over like an obedient dog. Brie remained standing, but the Headmaster didn't lose his smile.
"Severus never sits down, either," he confided genially. "So what can I do for you?"
Brie wordlessly handed over Shay's letter, face blank and eyes hard. As the Headmaster read the letter, Brie internally prepared for battle. He would go to Shay today.
"Well, everything appears to be in order," the Headmaster smiled and handed the letter back. Brie hid his surprise well, but he had been caught off balance. He'd been all set for verbal warfare, which was why he had requested a private meeting – he hadn't expected to be calmly dismissed.
He took the letter back after a moment's pause.
"I will be back by tomorrow morning," Brie said, just in case there was any chance the Headmaster hadn't just given his permission.
"Very good. I will let your professors know."
Brie stood silently for another moment, regarding the Headmaster curiously. Finally he turned around and left. There was definitely more to that man than met the eye, and it was probably in his best interest to find out what it was.
-France-
Shay's office was highly indicative of the sort of man the Parisian Butcher was. The room was small enough to be intimate, but large enough to be intimidating and to contain everything he felt he needed close at hand. A huge leather-topped mahogany desk dominated the room. Three of four walls were lined in floor to ceiling shelves, filled with books on everything from ancient battles to torture methods to dodging taxes. (There was even a book of fairy tales stuck in there somewhere from when Brie had been a child.) The fourth wall was taken up by a huge stain-glass window that kept the Butcher artistically backlit.
Shay himself looked the same as he had the day he'd met Brie over a decade ago. There were a few more lines on his face and a bit of grey at his temples, but he was still active and strong, able to take on men half his age with ease. Even Brie could only win one fight in four, though that might change once he hit his majority.
Now he sat at his desk, riffling through a stack of paper. His hair was tied back in the same style his nephew favored, and like his nephew he was wearing fatigues. He didn't look up as Brie came in and stood at attention, but Brie hadn't expected him to. The teen waited patiently for his uncle to finish what he'd been doing. Shay would get to him when he got to him, and not a moment sooner.
"You're late."
"Yes sir," Brie agreed, despite knowing there hadn't been a specified time. Shay picked up a stack of papers and tapped them against his desk to even them. Brie continued to stand at attention.
"Have you heard from your friend lately? That charming redheaded child."
"Last week, sir. He and his parents are currently in Iceland."
"Ah. Such a treasure. Pity he won't marry into the family. He sent me an interesting letter this morning."
Brie's interest was immediately piqued. It wasn't unheard of for Sky to send 'interesting letters' to Shay, but it was rare. Usually news filtered through Brie first, and he was the one to pass it along if necessary. When it went to Shay first, it meant that it was urgent and official. How interesting.
"Sir?" he prompted.
"Apparently young Master Lee has been translating a scroll that tells of an ancient ritual that can be used to destroy something that the author refers to as 'crystal heart stones.' In context, your friend seems to believe he's found the answer to our dilemma of what to do with those little fragments of Dark Lord we keep in the basement."
Brie's eyes widened slightly. They had been trying to figure out how to safely destroy the Horcruxes for years. Finding them had sadly proved to be the easy part – Voldemort's flair for the dramatic had gotten the better of him, and he'd made fairly predictable choices. The only thing they hadn't been able to find was Slytherin's locket, but they knew who had it last and it was only a matter of time before they got their hands on that, too.
Destroying them had proven somewhat more difficult, as three corpses could attest.
If Sky had really found a safe way to dispose of the Horcruxes, then they would be able to accelerate their plan. Brie gave his uncle a slow smile, and Shay smirked back.
"How shall we proceed, sir?"
"With caution," Shay shrugged. "I have two men down in the dungeon right now. I believe I'll give one the option of winning his freedom."
Serge Rose wasn't exactly sure what he'd done to piss the Butcher off, but he was certainly regretting it now. In fact, he was regretting a lot of things right now. Not saying goodbye to his wife when he'd left for work was high on his list – right below kicking himself for agreeing to take the pictures in the first place. At least, he assumed the pictures had something to do with his current situation. After all, why else would a small time photographer end up in the luxuriously dank, dark dungeons of the infamous Parisian Butcher? Whose identity Serge could unequivocally confirm was indeed Akshay Lord mal Théa.
Not that that piece of information was very comforting, of course.
He'd been here for three days, and he'd yet to see another human being. Someone left food for him every morning and every night, his privy kept itself magically clean, and he had a warm blanket and a thin mattress – so it wasn't as bad as it could be.
It was still a dungeon, though, and he was still being held prisoner against his will.
The faint sound of approaching voices had Serge scrambling to his feet. Was someone coming for him? Would he finally meet his captor face to face? Was he about to die? He really hoped it was one of the former and not the later – though he wasn't sure he wanted to meet the Butcher face to face. The rumors were rather off putting, to say the least.
The cell door opened and Serge squinted at the two figures in the door. He knew the Butcher on sight, having seen him briefly when he was first taken captive. The younger man he didn't recognize, but one look at the eyes told him everything he needed to know.
"The Archangel," he breathed, eyes wide with fright. The Butcher laughed, a soft, sinister sound.
"Your reputation precedes you, son. How ironic that, in my dungeon, it is your name he whispers in fear."
"If only because he cannot bring himself to utter a name so terrible as your own, Lord General," the Archangel replied dryly.
"Of course. He stares at us with cow's eyes, even now wondering which of us he ought to be throwing himself at, begging for forgiveness for a crime he is probably not aware he committed."
"Neither of us are known for forgiveness."
"Yes, but you are known to show mercy at times."
"To the innocent. This man hardly qualifies."
"Even though you acknowledge the fact that he is probably unaware of why he is our… guest?"
"Ignorance is not innocence."
Serge watched the two converse with rising terror. They were so calm, so cold – he didn't doubt for an instant that he was only alive because they hadn't gotten around to killing him yet. It was only a matter of time, though. He opened his mouth to try and speak, but nothing came out. The Butcher laughed again.
"Look, he thinks to speak without leave."
"Not wise," the Archangel informed Serge chidingly. "Recruits are punished for lesser offenses, and we like them."
Serge gulped slightly and clamped his mouth shut, much to the Butcher's amusement.
"What do you think, my son? Will he do?"
"Oh yes. He will do quite well. Quite well indeed. Would you like to destroy the Dark Lord, Mr. Rose?"