Disclaimer: I still don't own any of the HP characters or situations. I do, however, own Kendra Rayne and the creation of The Five. (I own something!)
Notes: This is a sequel to my fic 'The Five'. If you haven't read that fic this one isn't going to make much sense.
Trucido
Prologue
(Set six years after 'The Five')
Hermione Granger reached for the tie that held back her frizzy hair and pulled it briskly, releasing the curls that had longed to escape all day. She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her forefinger and thumb as the other hand searched through the cupboards in the rented house she shared with the rest of her research team. She was starving; she'd been on the dragon site all day checking out the improvements made by the Ministry grant Charlie Weasley had received earlier that year. Data entry and research methods had definitely not been Hermione's first choice of occupation, but after her brief stint at the Ministry of Magic she had discovered her inability to handle being caged up all day. She'd sat in a desk for seven long years and had worked hard for the qualifications she had. She wasn't going to waste them by sitting in a cubicle.
With another pinch at the bridge of her nose, Hermione reached for a box of cereal, hoping that her cooking abilities spanned as far as it might take to make even a sorry excuse for a meal. She was just reaching for a bowl when a large tawny owl appeared on the window sill, hooting happily and hopping back and forth. It hooted again when she made no move toward it, then hopped toward her and gently pecked at her hand.
Hermione started, then reached for the letter tied to it's leg, wondering who would be sending her a letter by owl post. Her parents were hopeless with the owl post and her friends all lived in Romania in the same house as she did. Harry and Ron had slowly faded out of her life and she hadn't had a letter from them in more than three years.
She hated it, it hurt her, but she knew they were busy with their new lives. Ron had met some girl a few years ago and, the last Hermione heard, he was living with her just outside of Hogsmeade. He had been working at the Three Broomsticks part time, still trying to pay his way through school in order to become an Auror. Hermione didn't know what his girlfriend did and she had never really cared to find out. It wasn't that she was jealous, of course . . . she just thought Ron could do better.
Harry was working as an Auror, frantically busy once more as killings had begun in Europe and then the Americas. Hermione sometimes wondered if she should return home to help, but her home was in Romania now. She was sure Harry and the others would be able to handle whatever was thrown their way, especially after the defeat of Voldemort. Kendra Rayne had been working as an Auror as well the last time Hermione talked to her. She had been living with Oliver Wood and Harry in an apartment just north of Devon. Hermione could see no reason for any of them to be writing her, but she turned the letter over in her hands.
Sealing the thin envelope was a thick drop of red wax. As the wax had dried someone had pressed the Hogwarts crest into it and she frowned slightly at this. Why would anyone from Hogwarts to be writing to her after so many years? The soft frown still marring her face, Hermione slide her finger under the wax seal and broke it, then pulled out the short letter that was inside. Her eyes scanned the four lines once, then went back to the top and read over them once more.
Without thinking, Hermione left the letter on the kitchen counter and walked quickly down the hall to the her bedroom. She opened the closet and yanked out a large suitcase, then went to work stuffing shirts and trousers inside.
"Charlie!" she yelled as her toothbrush and hairbrush were added to the pile inside the suitcase.
Footsteps were heard coming from down the hall and a moment later Charlie entered the room. "Yeah?" he asked.
"You'll have to get Anna to finish my research," Hermione told him, closing the suitcase and pulling it off the bed.
"Why? What's wrong?"
"I have to go back to Hogwarts."
Charlie frowned. "Now?"
Hermione nodded. "Right now," she said, then Apparated from the room.
* * * *
Ron Weasley hated his life. It was simple, to the point and direct. Unfortunately, if he said it too often Rosmerta ended up throwing him out of The Three Broomsticks after his shift was over. Not only did he hate his life, his girlfriend Erin hated his life and she made a regular point of telling him how much she hated it. So on top of hating his life, he had become strangely accustomed to hating his girlfriend just as much.
He blinked a few times, stared around the bar, then hiccuped. Rosmerta made a clucking sound in her throat and Ron turned to stare blearily at her before gesturing for another butterbeer. The bartender sighed, but handed him his drink regardless of what she thought. He gulped half of it quickly, then set it down on the bar and thumped his forehead down alongside it.
"I hate my life," he moaned, wondering if this was the time Rosmerta would kick him out for saying the most dreaded phrase in his vocabulary. Maybe if he pretended to be very interested in the ground below him, or promised to do extra work the next day, she'd let him stay and drink the rest of his paycheck away.
Rosmerta sighed again. "You know my advice, Ron. Don't make me say it again."
He nodded, but didn't raise his head. He did know her advice and when he was sober, it was damned good advice.
"Leave Erin, quit spending my money on alcohol, put myself through school," he recited with perfect clarity in spite of his already drunken state. "I know."
"If you're not going to do something about it, stop whining," Rosmerta said, then glanced up as an owl fluttered down onto the windowsill. She grabbed the letter from it and tossed a pretzel in it's direction.
"Mail for you," she said after studying it for a moment. She tossed it onto the bar beside Ron and moved away to tend to another customer.
"Whazzit?" he asked, then raised his head when she didn't answer. "Fine," he grumbled, picking it up. "I'll just open my own mail."
He opened the envelope without pausing to look at the seal, then withdrew the letter. Ron read it over quickly, then took another swig of his butterbeer and read it again, blinking as though he couldn't believe what he was reading.
"Oh no," he whispered, staring at the letter. "Oh no, oh no, oh no."
"What?" Rosmerta asked, coming back toward him. She reached for the letter, but he snatched it away quickly, nearly tumbling out of his chair in the process.
"I have to go see Dumbledore," Ron said, standing unsteadily and holding onto his stool for support.
"Ron, it's late," she protested, "and you're drunk."
"It doesn't matter," he said quickly, pulling his arms into his jacket. "This is important."
After one final sip of his drink Ron was out the door and running full speed toward Hogwarts.
* * * *
Kendra Rayne let her eyes wander over the hallway of her flat before she neared the bedroom door. She was tired, but that was nothing new to the young Auror. She just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for days, ignoring the news of everything that was going on around her. Violent murders had been occurring all over the continent, witches and wizards were disappearing for months and then turning up dead, bodies mutilated and slaughtered. It baffled the entire Ministry and even the Aurors couldn't explain what was happening.
She finally pushed the door open and rolled her shoulders, then walked over to her bed and turned down the sheets. Oliver was snuggled under the covers with his face stuck in yet another Quidditch book from the team captain of the Wimbourne Wasps. He'd only been playing with them for a season and a half, but already the captain was bearing down on him. Oliver Wood would be one of the greats, he promised and Kendra had no doubts about that. She just wished that he'd remove himself from the game every so often.
"Long day?" Oliver asked as she sunk into the bed.
Kendra nodded. "Harry's absolutely beat," she murmured. "I think he fell into bed still dressed."
Oliver cast another glance at the book, then reluctantly placed it on the beside table. "How're you?" he asked.
"Tired, sore and angry," she answered. "You?"
He gave her a small grin. "Hopelessly in love with the most beautiful Auror ever to exist."
"Nice try," she said, trying to sound unconcerned and failing miserably.
"Angry at what?" Oliver asked, putting his arm around her and pulling her close.
"It doesn't matter," she murmured softly.
"Yes, it does."
Kendra sighed. "I just want to know where these killings are coming from. How is this person - or these persons - killing others so violently? It doesn't make sense." She sighed again. "I wish I could speak with Hermione, but she never writes back anymore."
Oliver was about to say something when an owl's beak tapped at the window. He frowned and got up, letting the owl into the room. It fluttered toward Kendra and dropped a letter on her stomach before flying back out into the night.
"What's that?" he asked.
Kendra sat up in bed, then slit the Hogwarts seal. She pulled out the letter and read it over quickly, then glanced at Oliver in horror.
"What?" he asked.
"I need Harry," she said suddenly.
There was a knock at their door a second later and Kendra went to it, pulling it open. Harry was standing in the hallway with a letter clutched in his trembling hand.
"You got one too," he said.
Kendra nodded. "Do you suppose Ron and Hermione . . ."
Harry sighed. "I'm betting on it."
"Kendra, what's going on?" Oliver asked.
She glanced at Harry who nodded, then turned to Oliver and read the letter aloud.
"Dear Miss Rayne,
I regret to inform you that a curse I ask you to forget six years ago has since been released to another person. Albus Dumbledore and myself request that you come to Hogwarts as soon as possible so that we may find out who did not forget the curse and who had the audacity to speak of it rather than come straight to us. I fear this is for the worst.
Sincerely,
Severus Snape."
"A curse?" Oliver asked.
Kendra nodded. "When we faced Voldemort six years ago Snape said a curse that caused a complete slaughter of the Death Eaters. He asked us to forget that he had ever uttered the word and we all thought we had. Slowly the events of the night came back to each of us, but the four of us vowed never to say anything. We swore it!"
"Someone didn't keep their promise," Harry said softly, then gestured to Kendra. "Come on. Let's get dressed and we'll go by Floo to Diagon Alley. We can Apparate from there."
"I don't want you going," Oliver said.
Kendra smiled sadly. "I have to. This is our mess and we have to clean it up."
"You didn't say anything, did you?" he asked.
Kendra shook her head. "No, but I don't know who did. I'm still part of The Five, I can't leave them alone now."
"Parvati died," Oliver said. "I don't want you to be next."
Kendra walked toward him and pressed against his shoulders until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. She pressed a kiss against his forehead, then turned and began to dress. He watched silently as she moved about the room collecting her things.
Harry appeared at the door a moment later and motioned to her. Kendra nodded, then went back to Oliver and kissed him again.
"I'll be fine," she promised.
"You'd better," he replied, then watched from the room as she and Harry went down the stairs together, talking quietly between themselves. Oliver knew he couldn't stop either of them, but he hoped that he'd be able to see them come back.
End Prologue
Notes: This is a sequel to my fic 'The Five'. If you haven't read that fic this one isn't going to make much sense.
Trucido
Prologue
(Set six years after 'The Five')
Hermione Granger reached for the tie that held back her frizzy hair and pulled it briskly, releasing the curls that had longed to escape all day. She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her forefinger and thumb as the other hand searched through the cupboards in the rented house she shared with the rest of her research team. She was starving; she'd been on the dragon site all day checking out the improvements made by the Ministry grant Charlie Weasley had received earlier that year. Data entry and research methods had definitely not been Hermione's first choice of occupation, but after her brief stint at the Ministry of Magic she had discovered her inability to handle being caged up all day. She'd sat in a desk for seven long years and had worked hard for the qualifications she had. She wasn't going to waste them by sitting in a cubicle.
With another pinch at the bridge of her nose, Hermione reached for a box of cereal, hoping that her cooking abilities spanned as far as it might take to make even a sorry excuse for a meal. She was just reaching for a bowl when a large tawny owl appeared on the window sill, hooting happily and hopping back and forth. It hooted again when she made no move toward it, then hopped toward her and gently pecked at her hand.
Hermione started, then reached for the letter tied to it's leg, wondering who would be sending her a letter by owl post. Her parents were hopeless with the owl post and her friends all lived in Romania in the same house as she did. Harry and Ron had slowly faded out of her life and she hadn't had a letter from them in more than three years.
She hated it, it hurt her, but she knew they were busy with their new lives. Ron had met some girl a few years ago and, the last Hermione heard, he was living with her just outside of Hogsmeade. He had been working at the Three Broomsticks part time, still trying to pay his way through school in order to become an Auror. Hermione didn't know what his girlfriend did and she had never really cared to find out. It wasn't that she was jealous, of course . . . she just thought Ron could do better.
Harry was working as an Auror, frantically busy once more as killings had begun in Europe and then the Americas. Hermione sometimes wondered if she should return home to help, but her home was in Romania now. She was sure Harry and the others would be able to handle whatever was thrown their way, especially after the defeat of Voldemort. Kendra Rayne had been working as an Auror as well the last time Hermione talked to her. She had been living with Oliver Wood and Harry in an apartment just north of Devon. Hermione could see no reason for any of them to be writing her, but she turned the letter over in her hands.
Sealing the thin envelope was a thick drop of red wax. As the wax had dried someone had pressed the Hogwarts crest into it and she frowned slightly at this. Why would anyone from Hogwarts to be writing to her after so many years? The soft frown still marring her face, Hermione slide her finger under the wax seal and broke it, then pulled out the short letter that was inside. Her eyes scanned the four lines once, then went back to the top and read over them once more.
Without thinking, Hermione left the letter on the kitchen counter and walked quickly down the hall to the her bedroom. She opened the closet and yanked out a large suitcase, then went to work stuffing shirts and trousers inside.
"Charlie!" she yelled as her toothbrush and hairbrush were added to the pile inside the suitcase.
Footsteps were heard coming from down the hall and a moment later Charlie entered the room. "Yeah?" he asked.
"You'll have to get Anna to finish my research," Hermione told him, closing the suitcase and pulling it off the bed.
"Why? What's wrong?"
"I have to go back to Hogwarts."
Charlie frowned. "Now?"
Hermione nodded. "Right now," she said, then Apparated from the room.
* * * *
Ron Weasley hated his life. It was simple, to the point and direct. Unfortunately, if he said it too often Rosmerta ended up throwing him out of The Three Broomsticks after his shift was over. Not only did he hate his life, his girlfriend Erin hated his life and she made a regular point of telling him how much she hated it. So on top of hating his life, he had become strangely accustomed to hating his girlfriend just as much.
He blinked a few times, stared around the bar, then hiccuped. Rosmerta made a clucking sound in her throat and Ron turned to stare blearily at her before gesturing for another butterbeer. The bartender sighed, but handed him his drink regardless of what she thought. He gulped half of it quickly, then set it down on the bar and thumped his forehead down alongside it.
"I hate my life," he moaned, wondering if this was the time Rosmerta would kick him out for saying the most dreaded phrase in his vocabulary. Maybe if he pretended to be very interested in the ground below him, or promised to do extra work the next day, she'd let him stay and drink the rest of his paycheck away.
Rosmerta sighed again. "You know my advice, Ron. Don't make me say it again."
He nodded, but didn't raise his head. He did know her advice and when he was sober, it was damned good advice.
"Leave Erin, quit spending my money on alcohol, put myself through school," he recited with perfect clarity in spite of his already drunken state. "I know."
"If you're not going to do something about it, stop whining," Rosmerta said, then glanced up as an owl fluttered down onto the windowsill. She grabbed the letter from it and tossed a pretzel in it's direction.
"Mail for you," she said after studying it for a moment. She tossed it onto the bar beside Ron and moved away to tend to another customer.
"Whazzit?" he asked, then raised his head when she didn't answer. "Fine," he grumbled, picking it up. "I'll just open my own mail."
He opened the envelope without pausing to look at the seal, then withdrew the letter. Ron read it over quickly, then took another swig of his butterbeer and read it again, blinking as though he couldn't believe what he was reading.
"Oh no," he whispered, staring at the letter. "Oh no, oh no, oh no."
"What?" Rosmerta asked, coming back toward him. She reached for the letter, but he snatched it away quickly, nearly tumbling out of his chair in the process.
"I have to go see Dumbledore," Ron said, standing unsteadily and holding onto his stool for support.
"Ron, it's late," she protested, "and you're drunk."
"It doesn't matter," he said quickly, pulling his arms into his jacket. "This is important."
After one final sip of his drink Ron was out the door and running full speed toward Hogwarts.
* * * *
Kendra Rayne let her eyes wander over the hallway of her flat before she neared the bedroom door. She was tired, but that was nothing new to the young Auror. She just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for days, ignoring the news of everything that was going on around her. Violent murders had been occurring all over the continent, witches and wizards were disappearing for months and then turning up dead, bodies mutilated and slaughtered. It baffled the entire Ministry and even the Aurors couldn't explain what was happening.
She finally pushed the door open and rolled her shoulders, then walked over to her bed and turned down the sheets. Oliver was snuggled under the covers with his face stuck in yet another Quidditch book from the team captain of the Wimbourne Wasps. He'd only been playing with them for a season and a half, but already the captain was bearing down on him. Oliver Wood would be one of the greats, he promised and Kendra had no doubts about that. She just wished that he'd remove himself from the game every so often.
"Long day?" Oliver asked as she sunk into the bed.
Kendra nodded. "Harry's absolutely beat," she murmured. "I think he fell into bed still dressed."
Oliver cast another glance at the book, then reluctantly placed it on the beside table. "How're you?" he asked.
"Tired, sore and angry," she answered. "You?"
He gave her a small grin. "Hopelessly in love with the most beautiful Auror ever to exist."
"Nice try," she said, trying to sound unconcerned and failing miserably.
"Angry at what?" Oliver asked, putting his arm around her and pulling her close.
"It doesn't matter," she murmured softly.
"Yes, it does."
Kendra sighed. "I just want to know where these killings are coming from. How is this person - or these persons - killing others so violently? It doesn't make sense." She sighed again. "I wish I could speak with Hermione, but she never writes back anymore."
Oliver was about to say something when an owl's beak tapped at the window. He frowned and got up, letting the owl into the room. It fluttered toward Kendra and dropped a letter on her stomach before flying back out into the night.
"What's that?" he asked.
Kendra sat up in bed, then slit the Hogwarts seal. She pulled out the letter and read it over quickly, then glanced at Oliver in horror.
"What?" he asked.
"I need Harry," she said suddenly.
There was a knock at their door a second later and Kendra went to it, pulling it open. Harry was standing in the hallway with a letter clutched in his trembling hand.
"You got one too," he said.
Kendra nodded. "Do you suppose Ron and Hermione . . ."
Harry sighed. "I'm betting on it."
"Kendra, what's going on?" Oliver asked.
She glanced at Harry who nodded, then turned to Oliver and read the letter aloud.
"Dear Miss Rayne,
I regret to inform you that a curse I ask you to forget six years ago has since been released to another person. Albus Dumbledore and myself request that you come to Hogwarts as soon as possible so that we may find out who did not forget the curse and who had the audacity to speak of it rather than come straight to us. I fear this is for the worst.
Sincerely,
Severus Snape."
"A curse?" Oliver asked.
Kendra nodded. "When we faced Voldemort six years ago Snape said a curse that caused a complete slaughter of the Death Eaters. He asked us to forget that he had ever uttered the word and we all thought we had. Slowly the events of the night came back to each of us, but the four of us vowed never to say anything. We swore it!"
"Someone didn't keep their promise," Harry said softly, then gestured to Kendra. "Come on. Let's get dressed and we'll go by Floo to Diagon Alley. We can Apparate from there."
"I don't want you going," Oliver said.
Kendra smiled sadly. "I have to. This is our mess and we have to clean it up."
"You didn't say anything, did you?" he asked.
Kendra shook her head. "No, but I don't know who did. I'm still part of The Five, I can't leave them alone now."
"Parvati died," Oliver said. "I don't want you to be next."
Kendra walked toward him and pressed against his shoulders until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. She pressed a kiss against his forehead, then turned and began to dress. He watched silently as she moved about the room collecting her things.
Harry appeared at the door a moment later and motioned to her. Kendra nodded, then went back to Oliver and kissed him again.
"I'll be fine," she promised.
"You'd better," he replied, then watched from the room as she and Harry went down the stairs together, talking quietly between themselves. Oliver knew he couldn't stop either of them, but he hoped that he'd be able to see them come back.
End Prologue
