Harry Potter and the Spirit of Revenge
Chapter 21: Ripples
Please Read and Review. I'd like to know what I'm doing right (to keep doing it), and what I am doing wrong (to correct it).
Hogwarts
"Go?" Moaning Myrtle asked, her pale face set in an incredulous gesture, "Just like that?"
Deadman looked at her with sympathy, and also a bit of envy. "Yup, just like that. The Boss told me to extend the offer to any ghost I met. That includes you." He raised his hands in an all-encompassing movement. "All of you. There are no strings, no conditions, no judgement on my part or hers. For any reason, you missed the bus, that's all. If you feel your time on the world has run its course, I'll gladly accompany you to the door. After that, it's all on your hands. I am only the tour guide."
Sir Nicholas rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Then, it behooves to each one of us to decide?"
"Right, Sir." Deadman nodded.
The Fat Friar paced around. "But if we go, who will be the House Ghosts? We are mentors and guides for the younglings. We have a responsibility to them."
The Gray Lady spoke softly. "True, but not all of us are so attached to them or the school. I speak only for my own self when I say I am tired, I was the first House Ghost, the first to arrive here, the first to bind to a House. I have seen all of you arrive." She shot a brief look at the Bloody Baron, who averted his eyes. "A thousand years is enough for me." She extended her pale hand towards Deadman. "I accept your offer, gentle sir."
Deadman bowed deeply, "It will be an honor to escort a lady to the other side." He did notice the Baron going through a wall with an angry sneer.
Myrtle raised her hand, her eyes shone behind her glasses, "Me too. Apart from Harry Potter and his friend, no one else has treated me with any kindness since I died." She lowered her eyes, and whispered, "…or before…"
Deadman frowned, but kept his council. "Nice kid. From what I've heard." He almost tripped. Even among ghosts, he shouldn't reveal Harry's status as an incarnated ghost. Especially one who got the job of punishing murderers.
Sir Nicholas frowned in thought. "My good sir, I wonder if there is a time limit to your offer."
"Um… technically speaking, no. But I don't know for sure how long I will be around. Probably a few days, as this," he looked dramatically around, "is all new to me and I'd like to see everything."
"Ah," Sir Nicholas seemed to be relieved. "Good, good. Gives us all some time to think things through. Friar, Professor Binns, Mr. Grubb (1), a moment of your time, please."
Deadman nodded to himself, and turned to the two female ghosts. "Ladies. There is nothing to fear." He took their hands in his own, "Sir Nicholas!" He said, "I'll be back later, once these lovely ladies are safely at the other side. Will take a few hours at most."
"Wait a minute, please. I'd like to say goodbye." Myrtle bit her lower lip, worried that she could miss her chance to the afterlife.
"Sure, no problem." Deadman sat on the air, his legs crossed Indian style. "I'll be around. As I said, I'm curious and I would really like to see the school."
Meanwhile, Sir Nicholas spoke to the other ghosts, "We will need to find a worthy ghost to take the Gray Lady's place as the Ravenclaw House Ghost."
Professor Binns shrugged.
Diggory Manor
The day was bright and sunny, the bright light illuminating a lonely figure, sitting on a garden chair, on a high terrace. The sun didn't bring any comfort to Amos Diggory, not the songs of birds, or the breeze blowing around him. No. His only son, in whom he had put his hopes, had been cruelty murdered by You-Know-Who.
But somehow, Fate had restored the balance, just a bit, perhaps. Their ritual had failed. Failed spectacularly. This, at least brought some comfort to the Diggory family. You-Know-Who and his followers had messed up, and had died horribly. Screaming and begging for mercy, for a release from their pain. 'A release that never came', he though, vindictively.
Still, Cedric was dead. And his last words had been to ask for help. Not for himself, but for his fellow champion, Harry Potter. Cedric had sacrificed his life to save Potter.
Despite how senseless the whole thing was, Amos found a little measure of comfort in knowing that his son, his brave and generous son, had managed to get some victory over the same monster that had killed him, even as he himself was dying.
Still… his family was done for. The main Diggory line ended now with him, he doubted Amanda could give him another child. And to be honest with himself, he didn't want to try. Too much heartbreak and pain.
No. He would turn the title to one of the cadet lines at the end of the year. Let them continue the proud name of Diggory. Should magic bless them with another child, well… then he or she would be a member of a new cadet line. But that was an hypothetical problem, and would be best faced if it presented itself. No need to worry about that.
He stood up on the roof of his ancestral home, now so empty and cold, his hands grabbed the cold stone of the ancient crenellation, looked down from six stories high, and took a decision.
He breathed deeply. Once, twice.
He looked around.
And went back to his wife.
He found her at their bed, sleeping fitfully.
Amos sat next to her, and caressed her hair.
He would be there when she awoke.
There were things to do, letters to write, people to Floo.
But all that could wait.
She needed him, and he needed her.
As always.
Grimmauld's Place
"Lady Nagini?" Sirius knocked softly at the door of her bedroom.
"A moment, please, Lord Black." She answered. "I need to change my clothes."
Sirius waited patiently until the door opened. Nagini's face looked a bit tense. "Um…" he said. "Are you feeling better?"
"Yes. It's just that…" she lowered her eyes.
"Say no more. I understand. I won't bore you with my nightmares." He smiled, "Is there anything you'd like to do?"
"You wouldn't happen yo have knitting needles and yarn at hand, do you?"
"I'll ask Kreacher."
Winky popped next to Sirius, she looked a bit anxious, bouncing from one foot to the other. "Master Serious? Dobby be's awake, he is asking for a hat."
Sirius scratched his head, puzzled. "Is he okay?"
"Dobby being strong. Be's stronger than any elf Winky being meeting."
"Good, he had me worried. There might be a few in the laundry room or in the second attic, take anything you think Dobby will like. The main attic won't have anything usable, Buckbeak used everything there to make himself a nest."
"Winky understands." She bowed deeply. "Winky gets hats for Dobby!"
Malfoy Manor
One of the Malfoy elves, Nori, tended to her mistress. Lady Malfoy hadn't slept since her husband had been called by the Dark Lord. By now, she had already heard about the painful death of all marked Death Eaters, and the supposed failure of a ritual to restore the Dark Lord.
The Daily Prophet had not been stingy with the sordid details. They even managed to obtain some photographs of the Dark Mark, with its animated snake injecting very real, and very deadly, venom in the flesh of the unfortunate bearer.
The only thing that kept her going was the certainty that, no matter what had happened, Lucius was still alive. She had not received any black letter informing her of her husband's demise, so he had to be alive.
Somewhere.
Maybe as a prisoner. Otherwise he would have come home already. And he hadn't fled either, a quick Floo inquiry to Gringotts confirmed that the Malfoy fortune rested in its vault, safe and whole.
And to top it all, a new albino peacock had been delivered. Was Lucius out of his mind? The stupid bird was obviously addled! It had been making an awful racket, screeching every single moment and banging its head against the garden stones. To the point Narcisa had finally silenced and stunned the stupid bird.
Hogwarts
Slytherin Common Room
At Slytherin House, Draco Malfoy watched his housemates carefully, a worried gesture marring his face.
Of all the children of Death Eaters he knew, he was the only one to not receive a black envelope. That meant his Father had survived the purge. But where was he? Prisoner? Wounded? Unconscious? All he knew was that Lucius Malfoy, the true power behind the Ministry of Magic, right hand of the Dark Lord, and his Father, had vanished into thin air.
Somehow, his gut told him that Potter was responsible for this. But how? Potter was a mediocre wizard, leaning into poor. There was no way he could have matched the peerless abilities of his Father.
Without even realizing it, he decided to confront his nemesis. One way or another, he would get the truth.
Sheldrake Castle
Sublevel 2
Computer Room
"The Boss will arrive shortly." Squire announced, taking off her beret and mask, shaking her head to reorder her hair. "He's parking Anastasia right now. Let's give him a few minutes to change, okay?"
The Martian Manhunter stood up in the door to the Trophy Room, looking at a few of the mementos stored there. "Of course." He said, his deep voice calm and relaxed.
Batman simply nodded, still reading a microfilm from 1978. He set a note on a card, and continued.
"Found something?" Beryl Hutchinson, AKA the Squire asked, sitting on the large metal desk that supported the ancient microfilm reader.
"Yes. During the time period Distinguished Gentleman alluded the magical terrorusts operated, there's a statistically impossible amount of deaths by gas line explosions, unexplainable fires, and unknown causes. There are ocassional reports of people in strange 'waking coma state'. Usually, these events occurred in clusters, widely spaced from each other."
"What does that mean?"
"The pattern of events corresponds to a fear or revenge campaign, or more probably, both."
"Um, I meant about the comas."
Without any visible reaction, Batman continued. "Functional bodies, completely unharmed; but without any cognitive process. The brain itself was capable of managing autonomic processes, like breathing, regulating temperature, and digestion of food. But the victims had no response to any kind of stimulus. As if their minds had been completely destroyed."
J'Onn turned around. "There was a similar condition in Mars. An extremely rare disease. Soul Devourer was its name. The White Martians tried to weaponize it. They had hidden their lab in an asteroid, and the modified plague was accidentally released. All the scientists and test subjects died."
"What happened to the lab, the notes? Is there any way this Soul Devourer could have mutated and been released on Earth?" Batman looked at his companion.
"No. This happened many centuries ago. The lab was found by a Manhunter (2) group. When they found the recordings, the whole group took their ship, and pushed the whole asteroid to a collision course to the Sun. They documented their cases, and the last functional Manhunter radioed the files to HQ right as the asteroid was beginning to melt. Even if anybody had tried, there was no way to recover anything. They documented the effects, but nothing about the modified pathogen itself." (3)
"Awful way to go." Beryl commented, rubbing her arms as if cold.
Gringotts
Madame Xanadu gathered her documents. "Excelent service as always, Account Manager Steelknuckles." She bowed to the old goblin. "Please give my regards to Bloodteeth."
"My grandfather will no doubt invite you to dinner, Madame Xanadu. He will surely want to talk about old times."
"Indeed! I'll make the time for an informal dinner at my home, in… say… three days? I need to supervise the opening of my workplace, and settle matter at the Ministry." She huffed, "Bureacracy… I prefer the old ways. All this dance and song to simply open a tea room!"
Steelknuckles smirked. "Bane of our existences!"
After a minute of exchanging pleasantries, goblin style, Madame Xanadu descended the stairs of the bank, and set her steps towards Knockturn Alley. By this time, her seedlings had surely finished unpacking her stuff.
The Spectre's Mental Plane
Dumbledore had been walking for a very long time. He was tired to the bones, and needed to rest. But without his wand, he couldn't use a spell to make one. The only place he could rest was the road itself.
He kept on walking a little longer, until he finally decided to sit on the ground. He sat down with some difficulty, and dreaded the moment he would have to stand up again, but for the moment, he would take the weight off his feet.
For a moment, he thought on trying to clean the blood on his robes and shoes, but again, without his wand, he could not use ,ágil to clean them.
He also feared James' reaction should he manage to rid himself of that blood…
James' parting words worried him.
Reliving Harry's life scared him deeply. He had expected disapproval, coldness, and maybe some humiliation for Harry, but never to the grade the poor boy had gone through.
Cold sweat beaded his forehead. Harry had been close, too close to becoming an obscurial!
That would have been a catastrophe in more than one way.
Harry would be lost, to begin with.
There would be no one who could oppose Tom effectively.
And he would have completely ruined the life of an innocent boy.
He thought long and hard about his actions. Towards Harry, towards his students, and towards the Magical World, not only England.
He found himself… lacking.
He had to remedy what he could. Correct his mistakes and even beg for Harry's forgiveness. He hoped against hope that Tom's ritual had consumed the Horcruxes. He would have to confirm their destruction or destroy them himself. Maybe, just maybe, Harry would help him.
And after that… it would be time to retire.
Dumbledore sighed, he was still tired, but had much to do. He put a hand on the paved road to get up.
He noticed the deep grooves in the surface.
Dumbledore adjusted his glasses to examine the stone on the ground.
What he saw chilled his blood in his veins.
He looked at another stone, then another, and another. As far as he could see, all the stones had some words engraved.
"It's for his own good."
"It's character forming."
"Show them forgiveness."
And the worst of all…
"For the Greater Good."
Trembling, Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, stood up on uncertain legs. He looked up, to the horizon, where the road disappeared in the distance.
He stood there, immobile, for a minute. His tongue licked suddenly dry lips.
He exhaled.
Then, he turned around, and walked back, towards the other end of the road. He looked down at the stones, fearing to find more words, but the stones were smooth, almost polished.
It would be a long walk, but Dumbledore didn't care how long it would be.
He walked without rest for a longer time he would have thought himself capable of.
Author Notes:
To Weary Curmudgeon. Actually, it was not exactly Whinging, it was Little Whinging. 😂😂
Dumbledore was in deep denial, him repeating his own words is just him not believing how badly he has done. Intellectually, he knows he has been wrong, but hadn't accepted it emotionally. He needed time to process things, hence, the walk. And just as in his life, he needed to pause and think to realice just what the Spectre hinted at.
Deadman. Boston is in many ways, very opposite to the Bloody Baron. Each one grates on the other! Still, the other ghosts are willing to listen what Deadman had to say. As you've seen, that means Myrtle and the Gray Lady.
Batman, oh, yes. The parallels between him and Dumbledore are very intentional. Back in the early chapters, when I introduced the Phantom Stranger, I decided to bring those parallels in play. Also, I don't want a complete disaster, as you speculate very accurately could happen. That's why I sent him with a chaperone who also has experience with the Spectre (see Martian Manhunter issue 23, Oct 2000). J'Onn remembers part of the events in that issue, but not his brief time as (SPOILED VANISHED). It was so traumatic for him, that Corrigan blocked the memories from J'Onn's mind.
Zatanna is from a different reclusive magical society! Technically, she is not part of the same magical world, which I will explore later on. Her own sub-species of Homo Sapiens is even more reclusive than the wand-wielding magicals! They are also more versatile, as they don't need a wand.
Constantine did the sensible thing to do in case of a Spectre. He has run to the colonies! On the other hand, a reliable Seer is about to show herself in Knockturn Alley.
About "país" it was my autocorrect, effectively, it was meant to be "pair". It seems to be more inclined to Spanish than English.
(1) I didn't want to leave out any ghost in Hogwarts, so I checked the wiki. Turns out that there are less ghosts than I had thought. There are the four House Ghosts, Professor Binns, Moaning Myrtle, and, stretching the definition of "Ghost", Peeves the Poltergeist. J.K. Rowling commented she had notes about another ghost, Edmond Grubb, a fat Victorian ghost who died poisoned by berries and haunted one doorway into the Dining Hall. Grubb ocassionally blocks people from using that doorway.
(2) J'Onn is referring to the other Martian Manhunters, not to the androids originally used by the Guardians of the Universe, long before the Green Lantern Corps was pounded. They were equivalent to Earth's policemen.
(3) Completely original event, you won't find it in any comic.