Chapter Twenty-Five

Lorcan

Anna's new suite at Hogwarts was comfortable and just five floors up the back stairs. Her office, however, was quite another story. It had long been used for a storage room and McGonagall hadn't found the time to move it all to another room.

Rather than sit in a room half-full with crates, Anna took her books to the library, still hoping to get all of her syllabi filed in time. It was already New Year's, and after a late night at Harry's, she was hardly ready for the work. But still, it had to be done. With precious time left before the students arrived, Anna had every intention of taking advantage of the quiet room. But after about a half an hour of working alone, she looked up to see Hermione enter with Jennifer close on her heels.

"I know I've seen references to it. I remember reading about it," Hermione insisted as they walked past Anna.

"Well, I couldn't find it anywhere, are you sure you didn't misfile it?" Jennifer asked. Hermione gave Jennifer that look. "Sorry."

The two women went down one of the back rows and Anna found herself tapping her fingers, wondering what they were up to. A minute later they reappeared, and Hermione had a couple of books in hand, putting them down on the table next to Anna, flipping through pages.

"Here we are," Hermione said, sitting down. "'The Cloak of Icarus, also known as the Avian Cloak, was said to have been created by Salazar Slytherin and Leon Thames, who later became the first Master of Beasts at Hogwarts. It was made up of various types of feathers and wings, and was thought to have tremendous power over all creatures that were a part of it. However, the existence of this cloak has never been proven; all record of it ceased with the death of Icarus Ravenclaw, the supposed owner of the cloak.'"

"Nothing that we haven't already figured out," Jennifer sighed.

"Well, Hogwarts, A History never gets into much detail over things like that," Hermione said, carefully opening a tome called Magical Inventions of the Eleventh Century. "This one might though, let me see if I can't find the reference."

"Why don't you just go ask Mad Ick about it?" Anna asked.

"Have you ever trying speaking to that sourpuss?" Jennifer asked. "I'd rather spend a day locked in the bathroom with Moaning Myrtle." Hermione stifled a chuckle.

"That is rather harsh, don't you think?" Hermione asked.

"Hermione, the ghost will not leave me alone. If it wasn't for my father, I'd make it a point never to go in that place," Jennifer said with a sigh. "But I suppose if he shows up during my visit, I'll speak to him about it. Maybe he has some idea of how we can dismantle it."

"Dismantle a cloak? Funny," Hermione said.

"No pun intended," Jennifer said, shaking her head at the librarian's amused expression.

"So what did the man look like, could you tell any features at all?" Anna asked, having completely forgotten about what she was doing.

"I'd know his voice if I heard it again," Jennifer said, "or his laugh. It didn't sound altogether sane."

"Anyone who thinks they can get away with diverting post and kidnapping professors can't be considered sane," Hermione said, scanning the book.

"I really don't think he knew that Rolanda was anything but another falcon," Jennifer said thoughtfully. "He probably didn't realize the cloak was capable of such a thing."

"That's not all he didn't realize. Ron says the Ministry has been hearing reports from the Muggle world about strange bird activity. Either he's really sloppy or he just doesn't care," Hermione said.

"Well in that case, it should be easy to track his whereabouts, shouldn't it?" Jennifer said. "It's not surprising that he moved after we fled from the area. But I don't think he's gone too far."

"No, he's not gone too far," Anna said distantly. "That wouldn't fit the stalking pattern he's previously exhibited."

"Anna, what is it?" Jennifer said, focusing in on the woman curiously. Anna had a strange expression on her face, as if two worlds suddenly collided.

"What are the chances of two men existing that match the same basic predatory behaviors in the same location and are stalking the same person at the same time?" Anna asked as if to herself.

"Well, I'm no profiler, but if I would have a guess, I'd think the chances are pretty low. Of course, there's always the possibility of a copy cat," Hermione said.

"No, a copy cat has a different reason for actually carrying it out than the original," Anna explained, stacking up her books. "Do you think we can go to my flat without an armed escort?"

"I'm game if you are," Jennifer said, picking her cloak up from her seat.

"Never fear, I'll pose as the armed escort," Hermione said. "But what's the occasion?"

"I want to show Jennifer something," Anna explained as they walked over to the fireplace. "I just hope my suspicions aren't right."

Anna's flat was downtown above a small florist shop; a very neat, well-laid out flat with a separate bedroom and a living room with a window that looked out to the street. Jennifer peered curiously at the stereo sound system and other gadgets. She poked at a red button, flailing when loud music began to play. Anna rolled her eyes and turned it off while Hermione was trying quite hard not to laugh.

"Sorry," Jennifer said sheepishly.

"It's okay, just… don't touch anything you don't recognize," Anna said with a sigh, opening up a cabinet with small black rectangles in it, reading the labels. "I have a taped interview of a serial killer I was following in the States. In fact," she added, taking the video out, "he's what got me started on criminal cases in the first place. I was working on abuse cases up until then, but a friend asked me to look into it."

"Is this the same one you were trying to track that had escaped recently?" Jennifer asked.

"Yes, only no one can explain just how he got out. It happened just before Halloween while I was over there helping Vallid with Audi's ethics hearing." Anna pushed the tape into another black box and lights popped on.

"Oh, it's that television thing with the photos that talk at you but they never answer back, isn't it?" Jennifer asked, trying to see around Anna. She was pushing a button and making the picture blurry and fast, stopping it every now and then.

"Televisions are only one way. You can see them but they can't see you," Hermione tried to explain.

"Then how do they know we're there?" Jennifer asked.

"Here we are," Anna said, moving away so that the other two could see. A man, dark haired and pale, was sitting behind a damaged wooden table, his shoulders hunched and his eyes shifting a bit restlessly. Anna paused it a moment.

"That's Lorcan Dougal. Actually, back then we didn't know his real name. We called him Psycho Willie, one of a number of aliases he used," Anna explained.

"Strange, I can't read his face," Jennifer murmured. "I can usually read Muggles clearer than they can themselves, but I see no truth at all in him."

"It's probably because he's insane. Something stemming from when he was young, I think, and he's obsessed with the occult…well, you'll see what I mean," Anna said, releasing the pause.

Lorcan glanced at his hands, and at each rune and symbol he had meticulously scratched in them with his sharp, tooth-bitten nails. He felt quite un-whole without his rings…only one, magically enhanced so no other Muggle could see them, still remained. As he waited he began to etch on the table, unconcerned who may be watching. At last the door opened and his eyes glistened as he recognized the figure standing there. Anna stood before him in a Muggle suit. Her hair was much longer than Jennifer ever remembered seeing it and tossed in a loose tail. Anna's eyes were colder and more calculating than she had ever known them to be as well, but Jennifer could easily tell from her face that it was a wall, a strength hidden behind professionalism, Jennifer mused; in truth, she was terrified of him.

"I wondered when you'd come out of hiding, Essence. I knew it would not be long before you came to see me," Lorcan said in a lilting, almost taunting voice. A chill went down Jennifer's spine. "You went too far for me to follow, but I know where you were, and I know what you did. I can taste it," he said licking his lips. "You were somewhere few others could go."

"I am not here to discuss what I was doing in Britain, Willie, I'm here to find out why you were there," Anna said.

"Perhaps I was there to tour the Tower," Lorcan said thinly. "Or perhaps I was there to find out what you were doing. You know they don't want you," he added, staring over at her. "They don't want you to exist at all."

"Who, Willie?" Anna sighed, trying to keep a stony expression.

"You are the essence of what they believe they can control. But they can't. You are light… intangible, and they can't grasp it, it only slips through their hands," he said wistfully, holding up a hand then looking over at her. "Only I know how, and I will... next time…" he smiled with unwavering certainly. "Next time I walk out of here, I shall harvest that light, and no one will be able to contain me again," he finished in a fervent whisper, staring at Anna unblinkingly until she at last glanced over to two men in suits behind her.

"Maybe we should try again when he's had more time in here," Anna told them in a low voice as she stepped closer to the camera. "We're not going to get anywhere while he's still reveling in the deaths he caused."

"Well, it was worth a shot," one of the men said. "We'll arrange for another time for you to see him, perhaps after the psychiatrist gets through with him," he suggested, as the three stepped out of the room.

Anna turned off the tape and glanced at Jennifer, the lack of color in the witch's face causing her to sigh and sit down.

"It was him, wasn't it? The man you met in the forest," Anna asked.

"I just don't understand it. This man can't possibly be a Muggle, right?" Jennifer said uncertainly. "I mean, he can't be! Look at all the powerful items he had…"

"Anyone can use an item, Jennifer, you of all people know that," Hermione said. "That's why we have so many strict laws on them."

"I know, but these aren't ordinary items! That cloak is one of the most powerful items I've heard of next to the Staff of Eyre and the Stone, of course. And he had a ton of rings. One of them let him Apparate, and several others that seemed familiar, protection rings…"

"Apparation rings were outlawed years ago for being too dangerous…and what use would a real wizard have for them anyhow?" Hermione asked.

"Not everyone can Apparate. I couldn't when I came to Hogwarts," Jennifer protested. "And what about what he said about Anna? He knew. Somehow, he knew that she was different. And if I'm not mistaken, this happened long before you came to Hogwarts, right?" she asked, looking at Anna for confirmation.

"He got out a few years before I came that summer after Sirius Black got out, because I was in London researching Sirius at the time it happened," Anna explained. "Somehow, no one's sure how exactly, Lorcan's paperwork got altered and he was released when he shouldn't have been. He then figured out where I was and tracked me down, but we managed to catch him. Of course, they wouldn't let him be extradited back to a state with the death penalty, so it took some time," Anna added. "And here we are, doing the same thing, trying to track him down."

"Only he has magic items now," Hermione said.

"If he was a wizard, it'd explain how he got out both times, wouldn't it?" Jennifer suggested. Anna turned and looked steadily at Jennifer, her patience wearing thin.

"A real wizard wouldn't torture and kill innocent women to try and harvest their witch's powers, would he?" Anna asked. Jennifer grew quiet. "Right now you can't use magic either, but you can lob potions and use items and get along fair enough."

"At least you know how to use them properly," Hermione added. "I'd imagine Lorcan doesn't, and that makes him even more dangerous. What I want to know is, how did he get them all? And who's helping him get them, since he can't possibly be getting them on his own?"

"That's the real mystery," Anna agreed.

"Lorcan said my mother gave him the cloak, but that doesn't make any sense," Jennifer said, "Especially now if…" Jennifer stopped, her heart getting stuck in her throat. She took out some floo powder and stepped into the fireplace before either of the other women could get out a word.

Within moments, she was at the Hogwarts station and taking the strides around the lake and into the side door, slipping down into her office. Shuffling through her files, she took out the coroner's report that Minerva had given her after her mother's death and stared at the bottom line that read, All indications confirm the death was from physical trauma instead of magical. Angry tears streamed down her face as she read the ritualistic and inhumane tortures her mother had endured before Jennifer finally crumpled it and dropped it. She'd always known Malfoy would have never killed with his own hand. She had always known how great of a length he went through to destroy anyone who got in his way. But if she had ever doubted before that he was any less evil than Pettigrew or Voldemort, it ceased at that moment. She turned and entered the fireplace, watching each flame get farther and farther away until she jumped into one by itself. She stepped out of an old shack onto a lonely shore. An old skiff man was there, peering quizzically at her as she came out and silently got on the boat. He shrugged as he took the sickles and ferried her out to sea, the tiny craft riding over the waves as if they weren't there. It was not long before the dark and haunted image of Azkaban appeared, looking like a craggy rock in the middle of the ocean.

She quickly stepped out and asked him to wait, then walked inside, ignoring the front desk and striding all the way down to the second quarter guard station without anyone even attempting check her belongings. None of them tried to stop her… they only looked up at her in concern at the expression on her face and let her pass. But as she neared the final station, Boltin, who had been sitting with the other guard and eating his dinner, had stood up straight as she approached and looked at her in surprise.

"I need to see Icarus. If you want to protest to the Warden, go ahead, but let me in on your way," Jennifer said evenly.

"Put my things in the icebox, Dev, I think I'm going to be a bit," Boltin said. He quickly go out his keys, muttering ward dispels as he let her in. "I'm not quite sure where he'd be right now, so why don't I let you visit your father until I track him down?"

"I am really not sure I want to see him right now," Jennifer admitted quietly.

"All the same, it'll be easier to track the old phantom down by myself," Boltin said, leading her to the visiting room. Within moments after he left, Boltin brought Thomas in and then left them alone.

"Back again already? I take it this isn't a normal social visit… definitely not at this hour," Thomas said, regarding her thoughtfully.

"No," Jennifer said, pacing the floor. "No, I just got an unpleasant wake up call. Dad, have you ever heard the name Lorcan Dougal?"

"Lorcan Dougal?" Thomas repeated thoughtfully. "I've heard the name Dougal, there used to be an old wizarding family by that name… once a pretty big name, actually, but they finally all died out," he sighed. "Much like the Craws." Jennifer stared at him.

"There was a wizard Dougal family?"

"Yes, at one time, but the last one, Lexar I think it was, he and his wife ended up killing themselves. Sad, really," Craw mused.

"Ah yes, such things are always sad," a voice said. "Except, it seems, when it's me, then it's intolerable."

"Icarus, stop moping and get out here!" Jennifer demanded.

"Are you going to let your daughter talk to me like that? Did you teach her any manners at all?" The ghost asked, his disembodied voice fading slightly as if moving towards Thomas.

"Icarus please, I doubt she came all the way out here to yell at you," Thomas sighed.

"I bet you that she did."

"Icarus, someone has your cloak. Someone who really shouldn't have it," Jennifer said.

"Ah…I see, so once again you actually do need my help, and once again you expect me to take your tongue abuse in return for it?" he inquired.

"Oh, come on, Ick, it isn't about me this time. Other lives are at stake here!" Jennifer snapped.

"Ah yes, it's never about you, it's always someone else. You know, you really oughtn't try to manipulate ghosts like that. You'll find we have little sense of any guilt except for whatever it is that condemned us in the first place," Icarus explained, manifesting on her father's side of the magic field.

"A Muggle got a hold of it… a dangerous Muggle named Lorcan Dougal…"

"A dangerous Muggle? Is that an oxymoron?"

"Father, please. Icarus, have you any idea what might have happened to the cloak after you died?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Icarus said calmly, floating through to her side. "I gave it to Rowena Ravenclaw the morning before my family and I died. I believed it safer in her hands than in anyone else's."

"And she might have passed it down for safe keeping through her line?" Jennifer prompted. Thomas stared at her, realization creeping in.

"Quite possible, especially if she didn't feel it was safe to keep it at the school for whatever reason," Icarus said. "Those were turbulent times, Jennifer. There were times when we were not sure within the first few years if the school would survive. Sometimes I think it was a miracle that it did."

"Was it kept in any special container or anything?"

"Well, you don't think I'd keep anything like that laying about, do you? I wasn't about to lose it… it was one of the most powerful items father made, and it was made, I'd like to believe, for good intentions. You see, I had this horrible fear of heights. I had fallen off a Hippogriff when I was very young, I was told, but being a wizard, I always felt growing up as if I were missing something… oh, sorry, forgot who I was talking to. I suppose you're not interested," Icarus said, waving it away. Jennifer, who had become interested in spite of herself, pretended not to be. "Mother had a special chest made for the cloak, and after I became older and got married, I really didn't use it that much. I only used the cloak to call the birds down, and then was able to befriended them on my own. After awhile, I just didn't need the cloak anymore."

"Then why did you keep it afterwards? Didn't you realize how potentially dangerous that cloak could be in the wrong hands?" Jennifer asked.

"I kept it for sentimental reasons. I told you. My father made it for me," Icarus said glumly.

"This from the man who murdered his father!" Jennifer shouted at him.

"That doesn't mean I didn't love him," Icarus said bitterly. Jennifer stopped short and forgot what she was going to say. "But I suppose in your perfect life you wouldn't understand that." Jennifer clenched her fists, trying to calm herself.

"If my life were perfect, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. That cloak would already have been destroyed…"

"And we may never have known exactly who killed your mother," Icarus interrupted.

"Lorcan might have been the axe man, but we all know who the real murderer is," Jennifer said, turning around and walking out of the room. Icarus watched her go thoughtfully before turning to Thomas.

"Your daughter takes after you in some ways," Icarus said, his eyes unusually focused.

"Yes," Thomas said, nodding grimly. "I only hope she isn't planning to do what I want to do right now."

"Don't worry, Thomas, I'll make sure she doesn't get into trouble," Icarus said just as Boltin came in with another guard to take Thomas back to his cell.