Chapter 25: Heavenhigh Epilogue (Part II)

"Number 103. I will make it clear that I do know the meaning of the word "mercy"; I simply choose not show them any." - Evil Overlord List

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The great building entitled 'Cêzarra Drakmor Ie' was not only a bizarre work of art and bewildering to the eye (read: stunningly crazy-looking), but it was also highly practical. It had been nearly three-thousand six-hundred years in the making, from early planning to completion, and even now updates and renovations were a regular task. The times, they were a-changing.

Despite the fact that it was massively huge - with over two-hundred rooms, one could hardly describe it otherwise - only twenty or thirty people lived in it all the time, and very few of them had lived and worked there for more than a decade; the owners of the fortress were quick to tire of those who didn't do their work properly, or were simply too meddlesome or nosy, or tiresome or boring.

There were several advisors, and a small honour guard, and a messenger (who was so reliable there was really little need for another) and the rest were all the minor servants who oversaw the day to day running of the enormous building; directing the House-Elves, or tending the grounds, or taking care of security or the secret matters that House-Elves could hardly be trusted to deal with.

There were six more who did not fall into any of these categories; five of whom whose work involved something very different, that being the pursuit of power. They were the owners of the buildings, the ones who gave the orders to the servants, and they were known to a certain high-ranking few (and to quite a lot of lower-ranking enemies, as well) as The Five, or The Dark.

(The sixth one was unknown to nearly all in the fortress, excluding The Five and two of the most trusted advisors and servants, respectively. The sixth one could be heard occasionally, light footsteps tap-tapping on the stone floor in some secret chambers beyond the cold walls, and the House-Elves and servants fearfully whispered to each other stories about ghosts and hostages, prisoners and curses, and any number of fanciful stories about the origin of the noises on those dark and eerie nights...)

Cêzarra Drakmor Ie could not be found by anyone who hadn't been brought there by one of the Five or their small troop of guards, and this protection relied on more than mere Unplottable or Fidelius Charms. There were no windows for a start, except five huge ones like those of a cathedral, one on each wall of the pentagonal tower that loomed over the rest of the stronghold. There were no doors, either; from the outside it appeared as though someone had foolishly thought it would be a brilliant idea to build a huge, rectangular block of a stone, grey building and slap on several grim towers to thrust out of each corner and the tallest one in the middle. More than mortar held the stones together; and the stones themselves were more than what their name implied.

It was a rare occurrence, however, for someone to be looking at the outside of the stronghold. One of the rooms was set aside for Apparition, Seportion, Flooing and other travels in and out of the building, and no-one approached by foot - or if they did, the gargoyles had something to say about it. Or eat, rather.

So all in all, Abyssay wasn't entirely surprised that the spies had never managed to actually get inside the forbidding building - even after a couple had managed to ingratiate themselves with the troops enough that they had managed to be shown the outside of the edifice. And one of those two spies had been found as a Resistance Agent and promptly left to the gargoyles, anyway.

The other one had stupidly tried to investigate further, and had died of exposure, or frostbite, or pneumonia - something to do with the cold, as far as their long-distance diagnostic spells could tell.

No, the only way to get a spy onto the inside - and to have a crack at perhaps assassinating one of the Five - would be to make sure one of the Resistance members was completely trusted enough to get past all the loyalty tests, the careful selections, the screenings, the vetting, and to be accepted as a member of staff - and even then, they'd have to work for several years before they would be trusted enough to stay in the same room as a member of the Five without a guard.

Oh, and if they were even a slight danger anyway, they wouldn't even be considered.

Ah yes - and even forgetting the guards, killing one of the Dark was hardly a two-second job. Especially when one of them was an Auramagi, and would have the spy found within an instant.

Well. That idea was out, then - unless......

And Lord Abyssay, struck with a sudden thought of sheer genius, continued to plot....

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Hermione had had nightmares before, and of course she still had them now - well, not any longer, thanks to the Dreamless Sleep Potion prescribed to her, but she knew how her nights would be if she didn't have it, and she took it each evening, regular as clockwork.

It was just, the Medi-Witch had told her kindly, until she could cope a bit better in the daylight hours - give her mind a chance to work things out before subjecting her to problems at night, as well. The longer she had to sort out her feelings, the less bad the nightmares would be when she finally stopped taking the potion.

She wasn't actually too... well, she was certainly bothered, and it was certainly horrible - but she felt confident that this wouldn't last forever, that slowly, gradually, the edges of the memory would be dulled from razor-sharp sharpness to a blunted side that would fade away altogether.

What she was more concerned about, as a matter of fact, was Harry's behaviour.

Ron she could understand. He had lost a sister, he felt he hadn't done anything, that he could have helped but didn't even notice anything wrong - of course he was acting strangely, terribly. And maybe it would take him years to get over it, or maybe he never would, but she was still sure that someday he would be better, at least.

But Harry: Harry, who had been there that day, who had been badly injured (or so the rumours said, for she hadn't asked him), who had slain Voldemort and been threatened by a daemon for the third time - he hadn't really seemed to care.

He had obviously felt sympathy for Ron and her, for the people who had died that day, but he himself hadn't really been affected. Was it, she wondered, that he had seen and done so much, that it was all becoming familiar to him? That such 'minor' events weren't all that dramatic to him?

He was hardly a normal boy after all, for all the times he had complained about his fame. After all, how could he not be? A single year after his birth he had been set aside from the rest of humanity, it appeared. And it may not have gone to his head, but that on its own could have serious repercussions for him psychologically - how would it affect how he saw people, the world? And then all these other events on top of it, especially in his young, impressionable years, hardening him, making him apathetic, unaffected by the horrors he had seen and was bound to see in the future...

Yes, Hermione decided. There was definitely something wrong with Harry, whether he realised it or not.

But how was she meant to approach this subject with him? Did he even realise the difference that had come over him, from when he was an innocent, energetic child of eleven to the strangely sinister and subtly hostile boy he was now? Was he completely oblivious to this change, like she and Ron had been?

Would he even care?

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Gregory Goyle hadn't been found so far. He never would be; a fleeing, panicked human is excellent prey for an exhausted, slightly wary daemon who needs a fast meal to replenish lost energy.

The Aurors found his wand, and that was pretty much the end of it. 'Fleeing Death Eater gets eaten by carnivorous plant/animal,' they decided. Or possibly he'd simply had an accident and died somewhere, his body hidden by the undergrowth. Whatever the reason for his unknown demise, he couldn't have left the Forest, and he certainly wasn't alive in there. Case closed.

They did find, however, some interesting papers and books. It appeared that Leone Nikastal had set up a kind of hidey-hole near to the great rock she had sacrificed Harry on - well hidden, only stumbled on by chance. The Myrrh Cage had perhaps been hidden there, though they weren't sure of that; but they found some other, more interesting, items.

'A Manual of Ancient Necromancy', for one. 'The Power of the Animancer' another; and several interesting papers on various spells, ingredients and rituals. All were sent to Resistance Headquarters for study, and an investigation launched into how she had managed to get two books - the only copies of each - out of the British Library Esoteric Collection without anyone knowing.

Someone had helped her, that was certain; and even if it wasn't a traitor within the Resistance, or the Five, there was someone out there with a lot of influence, a lot of skill, a lot of ingenuity - and a lot of hostilityto carry out their unknown agenda.

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And in Thetford Forest, still no Unicorn stirred.