Chapter 4: The Great Escape

Patrick and Ivan were having a bad day.

Patrick and Ivan had been having a bad year.

When Captain Vos had placed them in charge of the operation to capture the Witchdoctor, they were placed in charge of one of the IHA's most baffling cases. The Witchdoctor was a Voodoo warlock from Haiti, and had arrived in England the same time Voldemort had made his first appearance. At the time, he had merely been a rather outspoken wizard in the mode of Salazar Slytherin, calling for discrimination against Muggles and half-bloods, but without revealing his intentions on how to deal with them. The Witchdoctor had always been there, looming in the shadows, rarely making a public appearance, but always there.

After Voldemort had fallen, the Witchdoctor fled back to his homeland, but not for long. Shortly after, he returned to England with an army of minions, and proceeded to wreck havoc on the wizard and Muggle world alike. He ran a drug racket, selling dark potions, poisons, and opium, a drug which many wizards had found irresistible. Fort the past fourteen years, the Ministry had been trying to catch him; always, he had escaped just when it looked like he was cornered. Some years ago, the IHA had been invited to join the investigation, since voodoo was a dark art many Hunters were familiar with, especially Patrick, who had spent two years in Haiti, Cuba, New Orleans, and Savannah, studying Voodoo and Santeria, and the various defensive methods to use against them. The magic of voodoo was of a very primitive sort, the kind hermits (the rather reclusive, misanthropic scholars among the Hunters) referred to as Wild Magic. It followed no laws and was very hard to defend against. The IHA actually had a whole office dedicated to fighting this particular dark magic.

So for the past year, after it seemed the Witchdoctor had been captured (it was actually a zombie in his image), Ivan and Patrick had been attempting to pick up the trail were it had left off; unfortunately, the trail was cold. However, six months into their search, they had a breakthrough, when Mundungus Fletcher warned them of a giant opium shipment coming into St. Austell, which was sure to make it to the Witchdoctor's lair. His advice had proved correct, and after six months of planning, bribing, and undercover investigating, they were ready to make a move. The Witchdoctor was planning to make a huge trade, one ton of opium for six million galleons to one of his European contacts. Patrick and Ivan had gone in to investigate, but had been caught. The result was a furious car chase through Manchester, which resulted in two gun fights (where Patrick had emptied six magazines from his M-16) and 22 cars totaled, including Patrick's Mercedes. After Patrick's car had crashed, the Witchdoctor and his crew had gotten away scott free, leaving the two of them empty handed.

When they got back to the office, Ivan's nerves were a wreck, Patrick was pissed off, and Captain Vos was seething.

"Gentlemen, what is your job description? As I recall, the Hunter's Oath called for one to be 'courageous in the face of danger, prudent in the hour of decision, vigilant in the case of uncertainty, and secretive in the presence of enemies.' What the Hell was courageous, prudent, vigilant, or secretive about your work today????!!!! Twenty-two cars totaled!!!! Once more, you've made the front page of the Muggle news!!!! How in God's name am I going to explain this to the Ministry????!!!! Well????!!!!"

Patrick and Ivan remained silent. One wrong word would send the captain further off the deep end then he already was, something they knew they couldn't afford.

"All this nonsense, and you couldn't even catch the Witchdoctor? Our leading expert on voodoo here and you bungle up the investigation. If you two weren't our last hope, I'd have a good mind to put you on suspension indefinitely! Now then, I don't want any excuses, I don't want any crap about needing to rest; what I do want is for you to get your asses over to whoever your street contact is, and find that witchdoctor! And I don't want to see your faces in here again until you do capture him! Understood??!!"

As they arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place, it was with an eager desire to kill Mundungus Fletcher.

Patrick knocked at the door. He didn't want to mess with Mrs. Black's portrait; he wanted to spend his energy on beating Mundungus to a pulp.

Mrs. Weasley opened the door and let them in.

"Hello, Molly. Have you seen Mundungus anywhere?" Ivan asked.

As he was saying this, Mundungus had just stepped through the fireplace with some new smuggled cauldrons. He caught sight of Ivan and Patrick and tried to sneak past them. But Patrick had a keen eye, and saw him before he took his first step.

"Hey Mundungus, where ya' going?" Patrick asked with mock friendliness. Mundungus tried to run, but Patrick launched a Petrifying Hex at him, and walked up to him, releasing him from the hex only when he had a tight grip on him.

"Guess what, Mundungus; you just made Number 1 on Uncle Patrick's Shit List."

"All we got was a wrecked up car and a chewed-off ass," Ivan added menacingly.

"Oh, really? Well, I'm awfully sorry about that, but that's the risk…"

"Last time we heard, he was heading for London. Where?" Patrick asked, tightening his grip on Mundungus' neck.

"Oh, I'm sorry old chap, but that news is going to be very expensive. Both of you are going to have to do something for me."

"Alright," Patrick said. He walked over to the fireplace and picked up a poker. Then he walked over to Mundungus' collection of cauldrons, and looked over some of the more expensive ones. Lifting up the poker, he brought it crashing down into a solid silver one, shattering it to pieces. Mundungus shrieked in horror.

Patrick tossed the poker to Ivan, who proceeded to smash a solid gold cauldron encrusted with several gems. He tossed it back to Patrick, who turned his attention to a solid ruby cauldron. But before he could do anything, Mundungus tossed himself in front of the cauldron, screaming. "Stop!! Stop, stop, stop! He lives in a large pink house on Knockturn Alley."

"A pink house?"

"Yes! You can't miss it; it sticks out like a sore thumb. There's several shrunken heads in the front yard."

Patrick looked over at Ivan, who nodded. Patrick placed the poker back near the fireplace and turned to leave.

"Oh, Molly, if we're not back in several hours, send the Ministry out to drag out our remains," he said nonchalantly. Ivan sighed in exasperation, wishing his friend had more regard for the reality of death.

The pink house really did exist, and Patrick and Ivan drew their weapons and cautiously approached the door. Ivan knocked firmly, but got no answer. Patrick kicked open the door and they entered with guns at the ready.

"IHA, freeze!"

No response. The house appeared to be deserted. However, there was no doubt in either of their minds that this was the Witchdoctor's headquarters. A diabolically designed altar was set up in the center of the room, complete with inverted cross, and leftovers of a sacrificial offering.

Suddenly a shot rang out. The two hunters turned around, but another shot rang out from a room behind the fireplace. They hit the ground as a third shot rang out, followed by several bursts of machine gun fire. They ran to find more secure locations in a shower of bullets, Ivan to a bathroom across from the fireplace, Patrick right at the fireplace. On each side of the fireplace were two doors where the shots had come from, so they could only assume that the Witchdoctor and some of his cronies were barricaded in there.

"Who dares invade my house?" The voice spoke good English, despite the heavy Haitian accent.

"It's the devil. Who's asking?" Patrick called back defiantly.

"The devil is not welcome heeeeeeeeere!" Another voice called out, probably one of the Witchdoctor's gunmen. It was high-pitched with fear. Of course, when you were that superstitious, Patrick thought, it was easy to get scared.

"Patrick?! You have to call yourself the devil in this house?! Shit!"

Several other shots rang out, followed by profanities. "Get out of here, stinking mudblood!" "Beat it, before I fill you full of lead!" "Yea, fuck you!"

"Fuck me? Fuck you!" Patrick yelled back.

"I command you to leave!" The Witchdoctor yelled out.

"Command all you want pal, but we're not leaving until you surrender!"

The Witchdoctor laughed out defiantly. "Never!"

"Alright, but I'm warning you, a bullet in the head is really going to mess up your extensions!"

"Patrick, do you have to be so combative?"

Verbal insults were replaced with shots. Ivan fired his Cougar Magnums across the room, while Patrick fired his regulation .45s into the doorways on either side of the fireplace.

As Ivan reloaded, he had time to consider his position. "Wait one minute! Patrick, we've got several scared-as-hell voodoo, trapped in that tiny little room, armed with guns!!"

"Aye! So what?"

"Shit! Patrick, this is all your fault!!"

"Could we please talk about this later?" Patrick asked between shots.

"I want to talk about it right now!" Ivan yelled back, firing again; whether at the Haitians or his partner was hard to tell.

"Well wait a minute; I'll see if they'll give us a time out!"

Ivan fired his Cougars into the room, killing one of the cronies. Patrick meanwhile had shot open a can of spray paint, distracting the Haitians as they took cover from the green vortex.

"I don't understand you, Patrick! What is it? Do you just attract violence?!"

"Ivan, I'm in the middle of a gun fight here, I'd appreciate it if ya'd just shut the hell up!"

A spray from a machine-gun into the bathroom caused Ivan to duck behind the toilet as a shower of dried plaster came down on him. "Patrick, I'm sending you the cleaning bill!"

"Fine with me!" Patrick yelled out as he shot out a mirror near the door, and then used one of the pieces to look into the room; he fired several shots, killing two more of the cronies. Only the Witchdoctor was left. Looking to his partner, Patrick nodded, and they both charged into the room. Ivan grabbed the Witchdoctor by his jacket lapels and kneed him in the groin. As he went down on the ground, Patrick handcuffed him. "Now, the interesting thing is," he said, indicating Ivan, "he's the one of us who's not pissed off." As he took the Witchdoctor out the door Ivan checked his file cabinets, pulled out his wand, and transferred them into one single, compact file, then headed out to the car.

As they arrived back at the office, Witchdoctor and files in toll, Captain Vos was there to greet them.

"Splendid work, gentlemen, although I wish you could have avoided causing such a ruckus, especially on Knockturn Alley. Oh well, at least you captured him. Now, gentlemen, if you would come to my office, you have a visitor."

"A visitor? Who?" Patrick asked.

"Just come and see."

As they walked into the office, they were greeted by the sight of Albus Dumbledore sitting behind the captain's desk.

"Dumbledore? What do you want?" Patrick demanded.

"I have an assignment I think may prove to your liking Patrick," Dumbledore responded, ignoring the verbal barb thrown at him.

"What?"

"Howard, if you would please close the door," Dumbledore asked Captain Vos. "And now gentlemen, to business…"

Several Days Later, 4 Privet Drive

Someone knocked at the door in the middle of lunch, and Uncle Vernon merely threw Harry a warning glance. Harry left his seat and went to answer. He was greeted with the sight of a tall, red-haired man dressed in a fine suit and a trench-coat.

"Yes?" Harry asked.

The man just stared at him, as if in a state of shock. "James?" he asked in a thick Irish brogue.

"What?"

The man shook his head, as if coming out of a trance. "I'm sorry; you're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

"Yes. How do you know me?"

"It would be a blind man indeed who couldn't recognize James Potter's son. You're almost an exact copy. Except for your eyes. You have…"

"My mother's eyes."

"Aye."

"What the devil is going on out there?" Uncle Vernon shouted from the kitchen.

Harry stepped back to let the man in, any misgivings he may have had concerning him completely vanishing.

The man entered the kitchen. "May I speak with the woman of the house?"

Aunt Petunia stood up. The man handed her a handwritten note.

"Who are you?" Uncle Vernon demanded.

"A friend of your sister-in-law." Uncle Vernon grew wide-eyed and leaped out of his chair, backing away from the man.

"Get out of my house," he said hoarsely.

"I assure you my good man, I intend to spend as little time in this house as possible. I'm merely here to make sure Harry gets packed up for school. That note I handed your wife is merely a letter from Professor Dumbledore explaining the situation. Oh, by the way sir, I think you should duck."

"Why?"

"Because there's a vampire right behind you," the man said as he pulled out his .45 and fired a shot. The vampire who had been sneaking up behind Uncle Vernon fell dead. Turning to look, Uncle Vernon almost fainted at the sight of the vampire's corpse.

"Alright, all of you stay calm." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a vial of garlic powder and spread it in a circle around the kitchen. "Don't leave the circle if you value your life. Harry, do you have the rosary Judah sent you for your birthday?"

Harry nodded and pulled it out of his pocket.

"Excellent. Put it around your neck, and follow me."

They headed upstairs, checking around corners. "Alright, stand back." The man pulled out a wand and muttered a few words. Suddenly, all of Harry's clothes, books and Quidditch equipment started moving and packing themselves into his trunk.

Suddenly another vampire leapt down from the roof behind Harry and grabbed him by the shoulder; he turned him around, hissing, and let go suddenly when he saw the rosary. Attempting to back away, he didn't get far before the man shot him with his .45.

"Now grab the trunk and your owl Harry, and let's get moving."

They rushed downstairs, the man holding his gun at the ready. They hurried to the kitchen. "Once we leave, you'll be safe," he told Aunt Petunia. Uncle Vernon and Dudley were huddled under the table, white with fear. "Until then, don't leave the circle. Give us five minutes."

They ran out the door, only to be greeted by a female vampire who jumped down from the roof. Once again, the rosary held her at bay, giving the man a clear shot at her. They sprinted across the lawn, Hedwig screeching all the way, and jumped into a black Jaguar parked a the curb.

"Who are you?" Harry asked.

"Patrick O'Reilly; like I said, I was a friend of your parents when we were at Hogwarts together. You received a letter from Judah van Helsing?" he asked as he started the car. Harry nodded. "I was one of the 'Junior Marauders' he mentioned."

"I see things haven't changed much."

"Not really," Patrick added as they sped down the street.

"What's the business with those vampires?"

"Servants of Voldemort. Part of the army he's been raising. Sent them after you as a test run, probably. It was too hastily done for him to expect any results, especially with a hunter on the scene."

"Wonderful. Where are we heading? London?"

"No, the place is crawling with vampires. We'll be heading to Salisbury, and we can move by Floo Powder to our planned destination."

"Which is?"

"Amsterdam."

"Amsterdam?"

"Aye, to the Van Helsing Family Mansion. You'll be safe there; I've yet to hear of the vampire foolish enough to attempt attacking it."

Suddenly a loud thump hit the top of the car.

"Damn! Another one!" Several more thumps followed. "Several; alright you blood-sucking bastards, we'll play it your way!" So saying he pulled out his shotgun and loaded it, while the car continued to drive itself. "Hold on tight to that rosary Harry!"

He opened the door and leapt out onto the roof. Harry heard several shots, and two bodies fell off the car onto the pavement. The roof clanged and thumped, and another vampire hit the turf. Suddenly, Patrick leaped back into the car and resumed driving; Harry noticed uncomfortably that he was twenty kilometers above the legal speed limit.

"Shit!"

"What now?"

"We've got several more behind us."

"Where? I can't see anything," Harry said as he looked into the rear-view mirror.

"Harry, think for a moment. Do you really expect to see them in a mirror?"

"Oh," Harry said, and looked out the back window. Sure enough, five vampires were flying behind the car with eager looks on their faces. One of them reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a gun, cocked it and fired.

"Duck!" Harry didn't need to be told twice as a stream of bullets barely missed him and hit the dashboard.

"That's it; now I'm pissed!" Leaving the car to drive itself (now thirty kilos above the limit), Patrick jumped into the back seat and pulled out an M-16. Lowering the rear window, he steadied himself and fired several rounds at the vampires. "Try to fuck with my car, will ya?! Take that you beady-eyed bastards!" He let out several more bursts, bringing two of the vampires down.

Harry watched on in fascination when all of a sudden his window broke and a cold, clammy hand grabbed him by the neck. "Patrick!"

Turning, Patrick saw the vampire and fired a few rounds at him, hitting him in the face and barely missing Harry.

"Thanks Patrick, but next time you try to save me, you think you can do it without trying to kill me?"

"I don't know what you're whining about, lad, you're alive ain't ye?"

"Just barely."

Patrick fired until the magazine emptied, then returned to the driver's seat. He turned on the walkie-talkie. "Hibernia to Albion, Hibernia to Albion, come in please!"

"Albion here. Patrick, how's it going?"

"Just bloody fantastic! I've got three…no, seven vampires on my tail, and there's probably more on the way!"

"Where are you?"

"Hold on, let me turn on the tracking beam."

"Ah, yes we've got you. Oh damn, Patrick, you've got seven on your tail, and fifteen more headed in your general direction."

"Beautiful, Richard, just fucking beautiful! What the hell am I supposed to do?!"

"Easy Patrick, we're working that out. Okay, turn left at the upcoming intersection; we've got some boys from the SWAT armored team waiting for you."

"Hang on, Harry!" Patrick said as he gave the car a sharp left hand turn, leaving several burn marks on the road.

As they passed by, a tank appeared out of nowhere and started firing at the vampires, which had by now increased to thirty. A wolfs bane net caught five of them, and two more were shot down, but the rest were just too quick for the tank.

"Richard, we need some more help!"

"Hang on Patrick, hang on. Alright, are you ready for some cross-country driving?"

"Damn right."

"Excellent. Turn right, and keep going."

The car turned, and suddenly the tires changed into more sturdy truck tires than those normally suited to a sports car. By now Patrick had long since broken the 200 kilo mark.

The vampires had increased to fifty.

"Richard!"

"Okay, in five minutes, you'll be coming up to a cliff. Jump it!"

"Ha, now that's my kind of talk. Hang on to your hat, Harry!"

As the cliff approached, Patrick sped up to 250 kilos and Harry closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the car to plummet them to their doom.

"Yeeeeehaaaaa!!!!!" Harry looked up to see the car safely approaching the other side. As they landed with a bond-jarring crash, Harry heard an explosion behind them, and turned around. All he could see was debris floating in the air, and dead vampires plummeting to the ground.

"What was that?"

"Demolition team. Special order, it looks like. Bomb filled with white oak, silver shavings, mistletoe, holy water, garlic powder; the works."

"So we're safe now?"

"Aye. Once we get to Salisbury there'll be no way they can touch us. That whole city is sacred ground, protected by centuries of the highest powers; first the Druids, then the followers of Mithras, and finally, the ancient powers were baptized and perfected by the Church. They couldn't come there even if they wanted too."

Harry merely nodded and leaned back in his seat, suddenly very tired.

"That's a good idea Harry. Get some rest while you can. I'll wake you when we make it to Salisbury."

Harry didn't hear him. He was already fast asleep.