Harry Potter and the Thousand Year Night
Once upon a time Harry Potter was a very nice cute little boy, but at one time so was Attila the Hun. Now historians call both of them the Scourge of God. They do this because they understand monsters are made not born and because they agree with Friedrich Nietzsche who said "He who fights with monsters must take care lest he thereby become a monster, for if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will gazes back into you."
ACT 1
"You look very handsome, Chief," Ginny said as she kissed her husband on the cheek.
"Thanks," Harry replied adjusting his tie, "but I feel like a penguin. I haven't been in a tuxedo since our wedding and that was... What? Ten or fifteen years ago?"
"Oh you," she laughed giving him a little punch on the arm, "It's only been three."
"Is that all? Are you sure?"
"Hey you'd better be nice to me," Ginny said in mock seriousness, "my husband happens to be an extraordinarily powerful wizard who has been appointed to the position of Chief Auror at the youngest age in history."
"I don't think that's entirely true," said Harry, "I believe Uric the Oddball beat your husband by a few months."
"Well, if you insist on being pedantic," said Ginny with impatience, "the youngest since 422BC."
"Ok you win," Harry said with a grin, "I guess I'll have to be nice to you then because I don't want him after me."
"Smart move. My husband never gives up."
"Where Mr. Snuggles?" interrupted a tiny tearful voice.
"What's the matter Sport?" Harry asked as he picked up his son, "Wow you're really getting big! I don't think I'll be strong enough to pick you up much longer. Next time you'll have to pick meup!"
James Potter giggled at his dad.
"Have you lost Mr. Snuggles again? Don't worry buddy, we'll find him. Now where can he be? Let's see, he's not here and he's not over there... but there he is!" Harry handed the teddy bear to James kissed him on the forehead and put him down. The little boy scampered off to the living room where he was trying to build a house for his bear out of blocks.
"I still don't understand" Harry began.
"That's OK, confusion is always the most honest response," Ginny interrupted.
"Wise guy!" Harry exclaimed with an exasperated smile, "I just thought it was customary for the bride and groom to arrive at the ceremony in a car of their own."
"Ron and Hermione wanted it that way," Ginny said, "they wanted us to be with them so Fudge provided the car."
"Fudge?" said Harry with a frown, "I've got to tell you he's not one of my favorite people"
"He's not one of my favorites either," Ginny said, "but he knows he made some big mistakes and he's trying to make amends. Even though he's not the Minister of Magic anymore he still has influence. He pulled some strings so the ceremony could happen in Westminster Abbey just like he did for our wedding."
"Isn't that breaking the rules?" Harry asked.
"Oh... well... ah...," Ginny hedged. "It's not really breaking the rules, it's just testing their elasticity."
Harry laughed, "You're getting more like Fred and George every day, but you could do worse."
"Hmm," Ginny said with a sheepish look. "If you told me when we were in school that my two goofy brothers would end up being the two richest wizards in the world I'd have said you were crazy. Of course we must be living in a crazy world to make that much money off of a chain of joke shops. There's an article about them in today's Gringotts Street Journal and it looks like they're in trouble again." She flipped open the newspaper and began to read aloud:
A spokesman for the Ministry stated 'The Weasley brothers have engaged in predatory pricing and other unfair monopolistic practices. Every jokester feels that having a good supply of 'Canary Creams' and 'Ton Tongue Toffees' is absolutely essential, so in a admittedly brilliant marketing move, the Weasley brothers started to give away whoopee cushions and plastic vomit with each purchase. Independent producers like International Whoopee Cushion and Asia Pacific Plastic Vomit just could not compete with a tie in with fundamental products that every prankster is virtually forced to buy. Their main competitor, Zonkos Joke Shop, tried to counter with 'Peanut Parrots' and 'Big Tongue Gum', but the Weasley brothers successfully sued Zonkos for patent infringement and the company was forced to file for bankruptcy. This leaves the brothers virtually the only remaining force in this very important sector of our economy.'
Fred Weasley issued a statement, 'From the beginning, all my brother and I have tried to do is make a funny product that a jokester can afford. We think it's a shame the Ministry doesn't understand this, but we look forward to proving it in a court of law.'
Harry laughed, "That is exactly the sort of fight your brothers love, I pity the poor Ministry bureaucrat who has to prosecute the case, they'll mop the floor with him. I'll bet you fifty to one they end up making even more money out of this from the publicity and..., that sounds like a car, it must be them."
Harry had to smile when he saw a turquoise car pull up.
"Is that what I think it is?"
It sure is," said Ron from the back seat, "Fudge told me I could have any I wanted and I couldn't think of a better car to take Hermione and me to our wedding than the old Ford Anglia. We're not supposed to do any flying over London this time though."
"But it's beautiful," said Harry in amazement, "it's in showroom condition."
"Well it needed a bit of bodywork," said Ron, "but for all it's done for us it deserved a makeover."
"We're going to return it to the Forbidden Forest after the wedding," Hermione said as she sat next to her future husband, "I think it was quite happy there." She looked stunning in her white bridal gown and Harry had only seen her hair so sleek and shiny once before. Harry smiled and thought of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion.
"Come on and get in," Hermione said as she turned to Ginny and James who had just appeared on the sidewalk, "it's really rather roomy."
As they all climbed in Harry recognized the driver as a maintenance man at the ministry, not that this particular car really needed a driver but appearances must be upheld when you go into the City of London.
"Hello Ed," Harry said.
"Good morning Chief," Ed replied. A bead of sweat was rolling down Ed's neck although the day was cool.
"This car really brings back memories," Harry said happily as he thought of the adventure he and Ron had in the car in their school days.
"It sure does make you think about the good old days," Ron said beaming at them all.
"Want Mr. Snuggles!" James had tears in his eyes as he demanded his bear again.
"Oh dear," groaned Ginny, "does anybody see it on the floor? No? He must have left it in the house. We'd better get it or he'll make a fuss all during the ceremony."
"I'll get it Chief," Ed offered immediately.
"No thanks Ed," Harry said, "It'll be faster if I get it, I know what it looks like."
"If it's not in the living room it'll be in James's room," Ginny said, "probably in his bed."
"I'll just be a second," Harry said as he climbed out of the car and walked back to the house. He found his son's favorite toy almost immediately in the living room and was going back when he was puzzled to see Ed walking rapidly away from the car.
"Ed, where're you going?" he called out.
Ed stopped for an instant and looked Harry in the eye, and then without a word broke into a run. Harry looked back at the car with his wife, son, and two best friends still in it, and suddenly he knew. Harry ran toward the car screaming,
"GET OUT OF THE CAR! QUICK! GET OUT OF THE C-"
Harry felt rather than heard the explosion. He was knocked over backward and landed flat on his back staring at the beautiful clear blue sky as the rear axle of a Ford Anglia slammed to earth inches from his head.
ACT 2
Cho looked beautiful in her formal robes as Harry whirled her around the dance floor at the Yule Ball.
"You dance wonderfully," she said as she stared at him adoringly.
"Thanks," Harry said grinning from ear to ear, "I was a little nervous at first yet I think I'm starting to get the hang of it, but you dance much better than I do."
"I love to dance," Cho said, "that's why I'm so glad you murdered Cedric, he couldn't dance at all."
"WHAT!?" Harry screamed in horror, "NO! I DIDN'T! I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS A PORT KEY!"
Cho started to laugh, a high cold mirthless laugh, and it was Voldemort standing before him not Cho and those weren't other dancers surrounding him, they were Death Eaters.
Harry pulled out his wand pointed it at Voldemort and yelled,
"Avada Kedavra!"
But it was Cedric who received the curse, and died before he hit the floor, a look of surprise on his lifeless face.
Harry dropped his wand and fell to his knees crying,
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
The Death Eaters bowed to Harry chanting,
"All hail to Harry Potter, all hail the new Dark Lord."
NOOOOOOOOO!
Harry Potter opened his eyes with a start; he was naked and unshaven, sprawled face down on the hard wooden floor of a simply furnished room. An empty bottle of Fire Whiskey was next to him. He sat up and leaned against the wall wondering why his subconscious had decided to dredge that up that particular memory. In his short life Harry had seen many more horrors than Cedric's death, he had seen more gruesome deaths too, and good people who begged for death. But Cedric was the first.
"Too many memories," he told the empty room.
He speculated, without any great interest, where he was and how he had gotten there. Then he vaguely remembered renting a room at the Three Broomsticks because he couldn't go home. He could never go home; there were too many reminders of Ginny and James there.
"Too many memories," he said again.
Harry found his glasses on the floor next to him and put them on, but things did not come into focus, the lenses were broken. He pointed at his glasses and said,
"Repairo"
"Hermione taught me that spell," Harry thought, "She used it the very first day I met Ron and her."
But further thoughts along those lines were too painful to endure.
Too many memories.
Harry sighed and thought, "Time to get on with it." He stood up, got out his straight razor and walked to the basin. He shaved off several days of stubble, combed his hair, and put on his best Auror uniform, the formal one that he seldom wore. Harry scrutinized his appearance in the mirror and was satisfied, except for his hair which as always stuck up a little too much. He thought, "I'm not likely to find a solution to my hair problem at this late date". Then he remembered something he read an impeccably dressed first class passenger on the Titanic had said as the ship was sinking:
"I've put on all my best things so now I can go down like a gentleman."
Harry actually smiled a little, in a grim sort of way, at the ludicrous thought. He went to the dresser and picked up Godric Gryffindor's sword that Dumbledore had left to him in his will. He gave the ancient weapon an affectionate little pat as he carried it to the center of the room and sat down in the lotus position. His back was very straight.
Harry was completely motionless, he just stared at his wrists and didn't seem to be blinking, he must have been breathing but it was hard to tell. Ten minutes latter he turned his head very slightly and looked at the sword. "This sword is so beautiful," Harry thought, "it's so clean and shiny, it's so sharp and cold, it's so unlike my flesh. It would be glorious to be cold, not to feel, not to remember, not to be."
He pushed up the sleeve of his uniform and held the sword over his wrist. Harry was ready to gouge out his veins, he was determined to open his arteries and watch his blood spurt from his body until he was dry and dead.
At that exact instant, to his considerable surprise, some corner of his mind he didn't even know he had announced the headline the Daily Prophet would print the following morning, "Potter Found Dead By Own Hand In Shabby Hotel Room". And then he thought of the rejoicing in the Death Eater community his death would cause. Undoubtedly they would gloat and say they made the son of a Mudblood kill himself.
"No." Harry said aloud, "No! That is not going to happen!"
He put down the sword. For the first time since the incident his predominant emotion was not sadness but anger. It felt good. "Everyone I've ever cared about is dead," Harry thought as his anger swelled, "my love has produced nothing but misery and death," his anger increased even more, "love is a weak pathetic emotion, I'll never invest in it again." And still his fury grew, it grew far beyond anything he had ever experienced before, it grew to levels he would not have thought possible. It felt very very good. Rage is so much more pleasant than grief. Potter had found a reason to live, not a good reason, but a reason nevertheless.
ACT 3
As Peter walked down the shady side of Main Street in Hogsmeade he felt as though he was naked and everybody was staring at him; but in fact his hood was up and his cloak completely covered every inch of his body. Nobody was paying him the slightest attention. Peter bought a newspaper, folded it under his arm and then stood for a moment trying to work up his courage to enter the Hog's Head Pub.
He knew it was foolish to be anywhere near here, especially after that botched attempt to get rid of Harry Potter. Things had gotten so hot it wasn't even safe to associate with his Death Eater cronies anymore. For years Peter had scrupulously avoided using magic as he melted unnoticed into the poorest sections of distant Muggle cities. Some of his confederates had thought such precautions were excessive, but he knew the power and determination of his adversary; Peter knew his extreme caution was the only reason he was still alive while so many others were not. But sometimes he wondered if life was worth living if you could never be with your own kind. Besides, he thought "It's very difficult to get news when you're living as a Muggle, and for all I know things might have cooled off. If I'm extremely lucky I might even discover that Potter's dead. After all, he did hold a very dangerous job."
With that encouraging thought Peter entered the Hog's Head. He felt more confident after he'd bought a butterbeer and found a dark table in the back where he could have his back to the wall and still have a clear view of the entrance. Peter was starting to enjoy himself. He wondered how many times he and his fellow Marauders had sat at this very table merrily drinking butterbeers. He'd forgotten how delicious they were. He sighed and felt nostalgic reminiscing about the happiest time of his life. "If only it could have continued. It was impossible of course; He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was getting stronger every day and opportunities to advance to top tier of his organization didn't come along every day. I couldn't just ignore a once in a lifetime chance like that. Poor James," mused Peter "I hope he realized that what I did was business, not personal. I considered James to be my best friend until the day he died. As for trying to kill his son, well, that wasn't personal either; in fact I rather liked Harry, but when The Dark Lord asks you to help him kill a person you can't say no and expect to live. And the later assassination attempt was just self defense really; Harry wanted to get me so I just tried to kill him first. It's just too bad it didn't work and the entire thing went so horribly wrong."
As Peter sat there more content than he'd been in years he gradually became aware of fragments of an animated conversation several witches and wizards were having at the next table.
"...and then he killed her. They don't say how, they probably think we're too squeamish to hear the gory details. It all happened last night. She deserved it of course, the others too, but there's something creepy about the way he goes down his list and kills them one by one."
"And nobody at the Ministry is skilled enough to stop him even if they wanted to."
"I don't think they want to. They're probably happy he's doing their dirty work."
"Well, they did charge him."
"He very publicly broke the law so the Ministry had to charge him with murder. They can't encourage that sort of vigilante justice.
They even put a 10,000,000 galleons reward for his head."
"25,000,000 if you can capture him alive, he's already been sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss."
"There are easier ways to make 25,000,000 than trying to tackle him."
"You can say that again, money is no good if you're dead."
"But to tell the truth I'd hate to see him captured. I mean I know he made some mistakes but he doesn't deserve the Dementor's Kiss, I'm not sure anybody does, not even Hitler. The kiss is just so horrible...."
"It doesn't matter because I don't think the Ministry wants to find him, not really, and I don't think anybody there has the guts to even try."
"Well, legal or not, I'm glad he's around. Somebody has to catch Death Eaters and the Ministry doesn't seem to know how anymore."
"I'm not saying he hasn't done a lot of good, but I wouldn't want to meet the man in a dark alley, or anywhere else for that matter."
"Oh I don't know, I went to school with him and knew him pretty well, I always thought he was a nice enough fellow, quite a decent chap in fact."
"Yeah, but that was before, you haven't seen him in years. Everybody says he's changed, they say even his friends are afraid of him now. Mind you, if it happened to me I'd probably have a few screws loose too."
"I know one man who should be afraid of him."
"Yep. He's the last one on his list and they say he hates him more than all the others."
"I heard he swore when he found him he'd hang him from the first tree he found."
"That's not what I heard, I heard he planned to slice open his belly and strangle him with his own intestines. They say he's done it before."
"That's codswallop."
"It's not; I have a friend who knows a guy who swears his wife's brother heard an Auror say it's true. But that's not the worst; I've heard other stories about him too. They say...."
"Talk about something else, there's a good lad. Harry Potter gives me the collywobbles."
"I'll tell you one thing; I wouldn't be in Peter Pettigrew's shoes for all the gold in Gringotts."
Peter could feel cold sweat trickling down his back as he opened his newspaper with trepidation. He found a photograph of himself and Bellatrix Lestrange on the front page, the headline screamed, "POTTER KILLS AGAIN."
"Renegade ex-Auror Harry Potter murdered the notorious dark witch Bellatrix Lestrange last night in a continuation of his illegal bloody crusade against the top 51 in You Know Who's inner circle. Potter has brutally killed 43 of them in the last two years and seven have turned themselves in preferring to go to Azkaban rather than face Potter. In addition he murdered a maintenance man at the Ministry and the son of a prominent Death Eater. Only one wizard remains on Potter's hit list, Peter Pettigrew.
After killing You Know Who without a wand when he was seventeen, in the most famous duel in history, Harry Potter studied to become an Auror, completing the demanding 3 year course in an astonishing 2 months. Mr. Potter proved himself to be an exceptionally effective field agent and was soon made the youngest Chief Auror in thousands of years. Even Chief Potter's harshest critics concede he was very good at his job. Apparently his remarkable ability to catch Death Eaters was the reason a group of the Dark Lord's closest followers conspired to assassinate him. Chief Potter survived the incident with only minor injuries but his wife, Ginny Weasley, and small son were killed in the attempt, as were two of his oldest friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.
Soon after the tragedy rumors circulated that Chief Potter was acting strangely and he made his infamous list of dark wizards and witches. He said all the Ministry's resources should be concentrated on finding them. Nearly everyone agreed that catching these people was important, but the Wizengamot became alarmed when he started producing corpses, not prisoners. In response, Chief Potter said the Ministry was hindering his work and he no longer trusted anyone there. He angrily resigned and began his private murderous war.
Peter Pettigrew, once a friend of Chief Potter's father (turn to page 4A)"
Peter had read enough. The pub which just minutes ago had seemed so friendly and comforting was now alien and terrifying. Making sure his hood was still up Peter hurriedly left, knowing he could never return.
ACT 4
Bounty hunter Luther Fett walked into the office of the new Chief Auror, Jason Obsidian, in a defensive mood,
"Look Jason, that capture of Goldstein may have been a little unorthodox but it strictly followed the law, both wizard and muggle, and..."
"Relax Luther, that's not why I asked to see you. But congratulation on the Goldstein collar anyway, he was a formidable dark wizard and not an easy man to get. Brilliant work as usual. I've never seen a spell quite like that, I'd ask what it was but with you and your trade secrets I know you'd never tell me. You're the most naturally talented bounty hunter I've ever seen."
"Oh," Luther said in surprise, "Thanks, but, ah, if it wasn't the Goldstein matter why did you want to see me?"
"I just wanted to have a little talk."
"I see, and what did you want to talk about?"
"Oh I don't know, interest rates, Quidditch teams, municipal bonds, Harry Potter ...."
"Harry Potter? Your predecessor?" Luther said with a laugh, "Capturing Potter is every bounty hunter's dream, but in all honesty I don't have a clue where he is."
"That's OK," the Chief Auror said, "I do."
"You.... What?" said Luther dumfounded.
"It wasn't easy to find him but let me introduce you to," Jason said as he produced a photograph of a heavily bearded man in a yamaka skullcap and sunglasses, "Mr. Isadore Bing, a teacher of Hebrew and Yiddish."
"Hebrew and Yiddish?" Luther said still in a daze.
"It's a good cover," Jason said, "Potter has a talent for languages, human and otherwise. However I did a little research, the real Isadore Bing was born 25 years ago, I've seen the birth certificate, and he died three months later, I've seen the death certificate.
"Ok, so he's a fake, but that doesn't make him Potter." The bounty hunter took his time as he examined the photo with an expert eye, "I don't see a scar, of course he could have covered that up with a bit of makeup, his hair seems too gray too but I suppose he could have dyed it," he paused again, "Yes, there is a resemblance, it could be Potter, but I couldn't say with certainty that it is."
"Yesterday our Mr. Bing broke from his routine and bought a glass of ice tea at a restaurant; as soon as he left I used my own money to purchase the glass from the establishment."
Luther's eyebrows went up so far they nearly became entangled in his hair.
"It was a perfectly legal transaction," Jason said, "Anyway, I got four good prints off of it," he threw three fingerprint cards onto the table, "One is of the waiter but 3 are from a man by the name of Harry James Potter."
"Interesting. Well then, why don't you surround him with a thousand of your best agents?"
Chief Auror Obsidian pondered that question for a long time before he responded,
"You know, I always thought of myself as one of the good guys, ever since I was a kid I wanted to catch dark wizards, I wanted to be a hero, I wanted to be the best Auror who ever lived. I know now that will never happen. If history remembers me at all it will be as an asterisk, I'll be the fellow who became Chief Auror after the famous Harry Potter. Well, most people never achieve their ultimate dream and I've learned to live with that, but the thing is, in two years I'll be 65 and face mandatory retirement, after that I get my pension, 178 galleons a month, before taxes. Meanwhile the reward for capturing Potter alive is 25,000,000 galleons. Of course, being a ministry employee capturing Potter is just part of my job, so I'm not eligible for the reward. But you are."
Luther was speechless.
"Potter is living in New York City," Jason continued.
"New York? What would he be doing In New York?"
"There is some indication Pettigrew is in America and we know Potter is after him. So tell me Luther, how would you take him down, invade his apartment in the middle of the night?"
"No way!" Luther said with passion, "I have more respect for Potter than that! That apartment is his territory, he knows it, I don't. I'm brave but I'm not suicidal. I'll meet Potter on neutral ground, if I can't meet him on my own." Luther stopped talking and frowned, "Jason, this is very very important, can you guarantee Potter has no idea, not the slightest hint, that he is under surveillance?"
"Absolutely."
"I hope so, the element of surprise is the only thing in our favor, without that we'd need a small army to bring him down. Listen to me Jason, to plan an attack I need to see the complete file on Potter, I need to know all there is to know about the man."
"Do we have a deal then, 60-40?"
"50-50 or you can forget the entire thing. I'm not risking my neck and that of my people for one cent less."
"Oh very well," the Chief Auror said with irritation handing over a thick file, "Make it 50-50."
Jason said nothing for the next two hours as he studied the file, then he looked up.
"From your information he seems to come out of his apartment only at the mourning rush hour, that makes things more difficult, we can't use magic in front of the muggles and expect to get a reward." Luther thought some more, "I'll have one of my best agents, a beautiful woman by the name of Gloria Medcalf walk in the opposite direction and "accidentally" bump into Potter. Bumping into such a stunningly beautiful girl must break the concentration of any man. At that exact instant another of my agents, Wolfgang Solo will be walking behind him, he'll be armed with a harmless looking umbrella and jab him in the back, it's loaded with a powerful tranquilizer; he should be unconscious in somewhere between 2 and 3 seconds. It will look like the man just suffered a heart attack and collapsed in the street. Gloria will look concerned and call for an ambulance on her cell phone. Seconds later the "ambulance" will show up and pick Potter up, we put some super strong goblin made manacles on the unconscious man just to be safe and take him to the Dementors, they give him a big kiss, we get 25,000,000, and everybody lives happily ever after. Except for Potter of course."
"Won't the muggles be suspicious that an ambulance would show up that fast?"
"Long after the fact it might strike some as being a little odd," the bounty hunter said, "but I know mob physiology, at the time the thought will not enter anybody's head, certainly nobody will try to stop an obviously sick man from being put in a ambulance. No, that's not what I'm worried about."
"What then?"
"Well, I've captured some very powerful dark wizards in my time, some very scary people, but I've never tackled anybody like Potter. Who has?"
"Scared?" Jason said with a slight sneer.
"Damn right I'm scared, a fearless bounty hunter is a dead bounty hunter and I've survived in this business for over 40 years. Be clear of one thing, we plan to feed Potter to the Dementors and he can expect no mercy from them, so we can expect no mercy from Potter if he catches us before we catch him. If the reward wasn't so huge I'd tell you to stick it where the sun don't shine and concentrate on finding less rewarding but safer dark wizards. I'm in this for the money not the glory." Luther paused for a moment while he thought, "We need a backup plan, if things go bad we need to just kill him and forget about capturing him. If we kill him we only get 10 million not 25, but that still wouldn't be a bad day's work. So I'll also have my 3 toughest assassins, Stebbins, Clark and Foxley in the crowd surrounding Potter, if everything goes according to plan they will do nothing, but the instant things look like they're going south they will kill him."
"I know those three, they used to work for me; they were my top experts in wet work," the Chief Auror said using a ministry euphemism for murder, "Then they decided they could do better in the private sector."
"Well Jason," Luther said with a grin, "You really should pay your best people better, then you wouldn't have these employee problems." He got serious again, "I should add that besides a tranquilizing umbrella my other agent will be armed with a syringe full of Curare, the South American Indians use it in their poison arrows. And besides being beautiful Gloria Medcalf is the most dangerous woman with a knife on the planet. It would be nice to have even more agents involved but the more people who know what we're up to the greater the chance of it leaking to Potter, and then we'd be sunk."
"And the more you'd have to split the reward."
"Well, that too. I think we should man the ambulance ourselves, it's fully functional by the way, it might come in handy if some of my employees are injured in the take down."
"But killing a man in broad daylight in front of all those Muggles..."
"No problem, the Muggles will just attribute it to common street crime, it happens all the time."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Jason said, "25 million has a much better sound to it than 10 million."
"True, but It would be better for Potter if we did just kill him."
"Yea, I know what you mean; I hate to see anyone get the Dementors Kiss, but especially a man like Potter."
"Yes yes I know," Luther replied quickly, "He deserves better, no question about it, but it's not our decision, so let's get on with it and stop being sentimental."
They parked the ambulance on a side street about a block from the take down point.
"Those are communication mirrors," Luther explained pointing to six mirrors lining one wall in the back of the ambulance, "Each of my five agents has one, and that one shows the front door of Potter's apartment building. I've observed him for the past two weeks, every morning he comes out between 8:54 and 9:02 and starts walking north, if he suspects nothing he should do the same today. If he comes out at any other time I'm canceling the mission because that would mean he probably knows about us."
"I don't see how he could suspect today would be any different, we've been so careful."
"We'll soon know," Luther said looking at his watch, 8:54 came and went, then 8:55, but at 8:56 the man who claimed to be Isadore Bing came out the door and into the street, "Excellent, he suspects nothing!" Luther went over to the communication mirrors, "Subject is moving north and carrying no obvious weapons, agent Solo start walking north, you've got to overtake him, agent Medcalf start walking south. Stebbins, Clark, Foxley get into position. Subject is passing the coffee shop, Medcalf slow down a little. Good." He look at Jason, "It's going well, Solo and Medcalf have to meet up with Potter from opposite directions at exactly the same spot, but they're very good at this, they've performed the maneuver hundreds of times and have never failed." He went back to the mirrors, "It looks like they're going to meet in front of the shoe store, Medcalf you can pretend to be looking at the window and then bump into Potter. Stebbins, Clark, Foxley get ready to execute plan B if necessary."
Neither was quite sure what happened next because Potter moved with explosive speed, it was faster than seemed humanly possible. Potter was just about to be jabbed with the tranquilizer when a fraction of a second latter agent Solo was screaming in agony. The arm that was holding the umbrella had been cut off, blood was spurting to the sidewalk and draining into the gutter.
"Jesus Christ!" Luther screamed, "PLAN B, PLAN B, KILL POTTER IMEADATLY!"
The Muggles started to scream and run away, the stampede blocked some of the communication mirrors and they lost sight of Potter, then they spotted a figure that was somehow still standing but had no head. Blood was spraying from the neck in a gusher. At first they thought, or perhaps hoped, it was Potter but then they realized it was a woman's body. She still had a knife in her hand. One by one the mirrors were covered with an opaque red film but they could still hear the panic and confusion in the voices of three remaining agents, at least one was hyperventilating.
"Where the hell did he go... there... look out...how did he do that... oh my God... Get out of the way...What the hell... Oh please no...He's going to kill us all... For Christ sake get out of the way... UHH!... AHH!... NO!... OH, GOD!... AHH!" Then they heard a blood curdling scream quickly followed by another. The shrieks seemed to echo off the metal walls of the ambulance.
"What's going on?!" Luther shouted, "Talk to me!"
"Stebbins and Clark are down," said a weak panicky voice.
They didn't need the mirrors to hear the explosion, although they were a block away the entire ambulance shook. What they heard next they had both unfortunately heard before, the unforgettable and horrible sound of a man drowning in his own blood. Luther jumped into the driver's seat of the ambulance and started the engine.
"What are you doing?"
"They're cut off and dying, I've got to get them out of there!"
He drove like a madman through streets filled with broken glass and arrived in less than a minute. The scene was quite ghastly; bodies seemed to be floating in a sea of blood. Potter was nowhere in sight.
"There must be more than five bodies here," the Chief Auror said shakily, "Maybe they managed to kill Potter before...."
"I don't think so," Luther said voice full of dread, "I think there are only five, some of those are just body parts."
"Well then where is he?"
"I've got to see," Luther said as he opened the door.
"Are you crazy, they're dead and there is nothing you can do for them. The Muggle police will be here any minute and we can't afford to be seen here!"
"I have to see," Luther repeated, "I ordered these men to do this, I'm responsible for this fiasco, maybe ...., maybe somebody is still alive." He got out his wand and climbed out of the ambulance. "Lock the door behind me, if I'm not back in two minutes I'm not coming back."
Luther walked behind the ambulance and Jason couldn't see what he was doing, but after about a minute he heard a taping on the window and saw the bedraggled face of Luther peering in from around the window, he looked like he came off second best in a fight.
He opened the door, "What happened to y...."
Jason stopped; he was staring straight into the brilliant green eyes of Harry Potter.
"Catch," Potter said and threw something at him.
Instinctively Jason caught it. He started to scream when he realized he was holding in his hands the severed head of Luther Fett. Potter seemed to give him a slight push to the stomach, Jason hardly felt it, and then Potter just walked away. A stream of hot blood from the femoral artery spurt to the floor through a slash in Jason's shirt. The Chief Auror bent down to look at himself and blood spattered onto his face, his knees gave way and he fell to the ground. It took him about three minutes to bleed out.
ACT 5
Peter shifted his bag of groceries trying to shield himself from the cruel artic wind blowing from the north east off of Lake Superior.
"What a god awful place this is," he thought, "but my dislike for the cold was so well known, nobody would dream I'd be living in a rundown apartment in Duluth Minnesota in the wintertime."
Peter had seriously considered Siberia but he didn't know Russian and couldn't learn a new language in a few days like Potter could. At that moment however his thoughts were much more banal. He was wondering if he should have bought more groceries because he reckoned he'd probably have to go to the store again tomorrow or the day after. On the other hand it would be a bad idea to buy too much because the graffiti encrusted lift in his building was broken, yet again, and he lived on the fifth floor.
After trudging up the stairs with his groceries Peter felt a bit winded, but before entering his flat he remembered, as he always did, to look for the tiny hair he pasted over his steel reinforced door before he left to see if anyone had entered while he was away. Nobody would ever notice it unless they knew exactly where to look and what to look for; he saw with satisfaction that the hair was still there. Of course Peter had also placed an unobtrusive but powerful anti-Apparition spell on his apartment, but he knew magic wasn't everything, he knew the value of a good strong door. He unlocked his flat with his many keys and took off his overcoat and scarf. He had just finished relocking the seven separate locks on the only door when he heard a voice coming from his small dingy kitchen.
"Hello Peter."
Harry Potter, the man who had haunted Peter's nightmares, was sitting at his kitchen table reading a newspaper. Peter dropped his bag of groceries and a large bottle of ketchup shattered splattering its contents across the floor. It looked like blood.
Potter put down the newspaper and said very calmly, "Peter if you transform into a rat I'll transform you into something far more interesting before you hit the floor. A nameless reeking monstrosity that pushes itself along the floor with hideous misshapen appendages leaving a streak of putrid slime in its wake; you'll want to die but can not die, you'll want to scream but have no mouth."
Potter smiled grimly and continued, "Perhaps you think I'm bluffing. Perhaps you think only Voldemort could produce such horrors. If so, then by all means, transform."
"No," Peter sobbed, "I've seen what you can do."
There might have been a note of disappointment in Potter's voice when he said,
"Well, you're a hard man to find Peter. Not many could have hidden from me for so long. It shows real skill. You are to be congratulated."
Peter started to blubber; his words were incoherent and almost unintelligible.
"Harry... your father... Harry, please... I loved him... Ron... I never meant... Harry you've got it all wrong... I didn't...I'm sorry..."
"Pull yourself together. Act like a man!" Potter said with a look of disgust. He paused for a moment and then much more gently said, "Look what I found in your cupboard, it's not my favorite brand of Fire Whiskey, but come over here and sit down. Let's have a drink together and discuss old times."
Still sobbing and with great reluctance Peter slowly walked over to the table and sat down next to Potter who poured him a stiff drink and a much smaller one for himself.
"Drink Peter. You need it."
Peter picked up the glass with both hands and drank it in one gulp. His hysterical crying receded a little.
"Feeling better? Good. Now Peter, I wanted to talk about that assassination attempt on me a few years ago."
"Harry, I swear on my mother's grave I had nothing to do with that, I was sorry when I heard about Ron and ... the others. I'm innocent. I would never-"
In a voice far too loud to be anything but magical, Potter bellowed in a deep echoing roar, "ADMIT WHAT YOU DID!"
Pure volcanic rage could be seen radiating with power from Potter's gleaming green eyes, it made him look quite demonic. Glass broke, the floor shook, and plaster fell from the ceiling. Peter quickly put his hands over his ears, but one eardrum was already shattered and bleeding. He shrank from the inhuman apparition sitting next to him in slack jawed terror. Then as rapidly as it had surfaced Potter got control of himself, his eyes looked normal again and he assumed a neutral appearance. He put a reassuring arm on Peter's shoulder and spoke softly, almost tenderly,
"Today I settle the last of my unresolved business. In the process of doing so I have, like you Peter, done," for a long moment Potter seemed at a loss for words, then he said, "questionable things."
Potter looked like he was a bit bewildered, "We have something in common, my life has not turned out as I expected it would when I was a boy, and I don't imagine yours has either."
Potter paused yet again and suddenly he did not look angry and powerful, just tired and sad. He then said something so quietly that Peter with his injured ears wasn't sure he heard him correctly but it sounded like,
"No one in this room will see heaven".
But then Potter's face changed back to its previous cold expression, "So don't tell me you're innocent because that insults my intelligence. It makes me very angry."
Peter had a metallic taste in his mouth and the air was heavy with the electrical odor of ozone, the smell evoked memories of the time when he was nine and a bolt of lightning hit just a few feet from him. He hadn't thought of that in years.
Potter took a small sip from his glass and said,
"Peter I know you didn't start the assassination conspiracy and weren't the leader, but you were part of it. Now who approached you? Malfoy or Fudge?"
He looked at Potter and shuddered, he knew lying was pointless. In a small defeated voice Peter answered, "It...It was Malfoy."
"Good," Potter said putting his drink down on the table.
Peter looked down and for the first time noticed a stuffed bear and part of a silvery object sticking out from under a newspaper which covered most of it.
"Wh... what's that?" asked Peter.
"That is Mr. Snuggles, he was my son's teddy bear, and that," Potter said removing the newspaper, "was Godric Gryffindor's sword."
"What are... what are you going to do with that?" asked Peter eyeing the sword as panic filled his body like poison.
"I'm going to cut your head off with it," Potter said in a soft expressionless voice. "Just as I have already done for Lucius Malfoy and his son, Lestrange, Dolohov, Crabbe, Macnair, Avery, Goyle, Rookwood, Nott, and 34 other members of Voldemort's inner circle, and a few others too. You are the last."
He picked up the sword and stood up, no wand was in sight.
"But maybe," Potter said with such weariness he nearly seemed bored, "you can do what they could not, maybe you can stop me. Stand up, Wormtail, and get out your wand."
"Don't do this to me. Please Harry!" Peter begged as blood oozed out of his left ear and dripped down his neck. "I was your father's friend; he wouldn't want his son to kill me. You saved my life once; he'd want you to do it again. Please!"
"That's true I did save your life," Potter said thoughtfully, "and three years before Voldemort killed him, with your help I might add, Dumbledore told me that the day would come when I would be very glad I had saved it. Well, that just goes to show that even a great wizard can be a lousy prophet. Now I repeat. Stand up, Wormtail, and get out your wand."
Slowly, Peter got up. His legs felt weak with fear.
"That's good, now get out your wand." Potter said.
"No, you can't! It's murder ... Harry please!"
"If you don't take out your wand I will nail it to your hand, your real hand, before I kill you," Potter said quietly. Peter looked at the steely expression on Potter's face and knew he meant every word he said. He was trembling so much as he got out his wand he nearly dropped it.
"Hold it in your real hand please. Thank you." Potter said, "At the count of three I will attack. You of course can do whatever you think appropriate whenever you like. One...Two..."
"AVAD-"
"Expelliarmus," Potter said in a lazy voice.
Peter screamed in pain as his wand flew out of his hand with such force it broke three fingers and severed a fourth. As if driven by a tornado the wand imbedded itself six inches into a solid oak beam on the other side of the room. Peter fell to his knees at Potter's feet and begged for his life.
"Harry, please don't kill me, I'll do anything! I want to live, please Harry!"
Potter raised his sword and looked down with his brilliant green eyes. There was no longer even a hint of pity or humanity in them.
"Goodbye, Wormtail."
The small part of Wormtail's mind that was still rational and panic had not destroyed realized oblivion awaited and that the wood grain of the floor he was looking at was absolutely the last thing he was going to see. Ever.
With a swift flash of silver and a spurt of crimson, it was over.
In the deathly silence that followed Potter went to the window and stared out at the snowy landscape. The last person responsible for the death of his family and friends had met justice and he found he felt no different; the same horrible hollow feeling at the core of his being was still there. Potter shivered. He told himself,
"It must be getting colder. Yes, that's it. It's just getting much colder."
He turned and walked out of the building to face the thousand year night.
THE END.
Eggplant