John Howards wasn't pleased at this meeting at all. The possibility of these two opponents of his forming an alliance would be rather fatal for his company and he would try everything to prevent it. However, looking at the way the meeting was going, he would think that the formation of any partnership is out of the question.
Both men were eyeing each other with utter dislike and shooting daggers at each other. Had he known better, he would have said that these two were arch-enemies in high school or something. He knew he was double crossing both of them by the offer of marriage but that secret was safe, looking at the amount of words and loathing they directed at each other.
They made small talk about the weather lately, the prices in the stock market, the country's upcoming elections, and other unrelated topics. None of them brought up the issue of today's meeting, which suited Howards quite fine.
Larissa was currently giggling at a joke that one of the gentlemen made. It didn't matter which. Both of them would suit him fine for the purpose of furthering his empire building.
Skyne is a profitable business. Even though he had to use underhanded means to get his company where it was today, as well as backstab a few people along the way, he did not mind. After all, it was their own fault that the virus protection wasn't up-to-date, was it? All it needed was a few mutated "virus" and Google collapsed, to be followed by the rise of one Skyne. It was added benefit that there was a mild economic depression at that time, which ensured that Google cannot climb back to its former glory.
Search engine, online market, anything off the net, Skyne is there for you. The company motto had always beeen "Skyne can even get the Sky for you if you're willing to pay the price." Just like Harrods really.
Which brings him to making his alliances. Lucifer Black might be residing in New York, yet it was common knowledge to those who are privy to Underworld information that much of his fortune came from London. In fact, Howards had every reason to believe that Black wasn't American. Oh, it was a convincing act, to be sure. But that British accent was present, no matter how mild.
Currently, Black held a lion's share of the shares for Harrods. It was one of his many targets as well. To be the sole operating net for Harrods. Also, Black was deemed as the most successful businessman of his age. He had managed to resurrect Wal-Mart when it nearly collapsed some year back and controlled it with an iron fist. Spin is now the biggest chain of supermarket in North America and Europe. Again, Howards was hoping to be the web for Spin. So far, even though Spin was so successful, it hadn't started to enter the electronic world.
Although alliance with Evans won't be too bad either. One of the most popular gaming industry today, Sirius is the most successful thus far as it consists of more than a thousand varieties of games. What makes it more incredible was the fact that even the older generations are enthralled by the mind-boggling logic problems, fantasy-world adventures, and simple luck games. There were even specialized games for infants that research has proven to boost their IQ. It was no wonder that parents were clamoring to get the newest addition of the IQkidz series. The industry also produces specialized PCs that have features to enhance the gaming experience. If only Skyne can be web provider...after all, Feds, the service provider that hosts the games online, is losing money and may decide to sell their company. Then Howards would make it big.
Howards would just have to plan his move very carefully. As he was thinking about the next pawn that he wanted to move in that impossibly complex chess game...
That sixth-sense when he was Harry Potter seldom failed before. Of course, when it failed, the disaster that followed was terrible. But more often than not, it saved his and his friends' lives. His five senses were more acute than most people anyway, being trained to live in a cupboard for the first eleven years of his life, he had to strain his ears to catch what was happening in the outside world and be able to see in the dark.
There was a faint sound in the distance that sounded like a high pitched scream to him. And there was that smell of something horrid, although he only caught a whiff and then it was gone. He began to get a nagging feeling at the back of his mind that something was not right.
And whenever that happens, his magic would start to pulse, trying to reach out and detect what was wrong. He immediately suppressed it. It wouldn't do to let his magic go out of control after so many years, especially not around two wizards that was present.
The niggling feeling never left him. His magic was getting out of control too. It was a failing of his, which eventually led to the downfall of Voldemort, so it wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
But of course, he would be breaching the Statue of Secrecy and now, knowing that there are ministry people trailing behind and dogging his every move, he wasn't about to take the chance and let himself get persecuted.
It got to the point of intolerance such that he had to excuse himself from the table on the pretext of going to the lavatory. As he exited the restaurant and entered the bright hotel lobby, he realised what was happening. Outside, a few blocks away, it was total pandemonium as a bomb had exploded inside the headquarters of Zarc, the famous pharmaceutical company. It didn't make sense that anyone would attack a pharmaceutical company since it hardly makes a difference to the economy. Well, not that big an impact anyway.
In fact, attacking the Swissotel that he currently is dining in would have more impact, if the bombings had a political motive at all. Security council meeting would mean that the leaders of the Big 5 would be in town, and as far as he knew, some of them resided in that particular hotel.
Unless...it was meant to be a diversion...that must be it!
Lucifer Black was bored. At least with Evans around, he had some intelligent conversation. To the airhead Larissa, it would seem mere small talk. But both knew that there was an undertone to the seemingly polite conversation. And of course, without Evans there, she was getting to be quite clingy, to the point of intolerability.
At last, he excused himself by pretending that his cell phone rang, and that it was such an important business call.
Anyway, where was Potter? If he was really going to the loo, then he was taking an absurdly long time.
Strolling out towards the exit, or entrance depending on how you look at it, he finally understood Potter's discomfort. He must have felt the sudden blast of energy. It made him feel lucky that he was trained as a Malfoy and able to block himself to change in magical flow and effectively live as a muggle.
He wanted to curse whoever who chose this place for their lunch. It was a close shave. He thanked whatever deities that were protecting him. Apparently, he was not the only one who watched the spectacle. Most of the hotel patrons as well as desk-workers had their noses pressed up the front doors and windows, trying to see what happened. The security guards were surprisingly absent, gone to protect other people or checking the building, more likely. The entrance had been sealed, to prevent the toxic fumes from outside from entering.
It was a bloody sight.
Potter looked on slack-jawed. It was like him really. Uncouth and undignified. And here he was thinking that Potter had learnt some modicum of manners, having maneuvered himself into the upper crust of society after all.
Apparently, he was wrong.
The lack of curiosity from the man wearing a decent Armani suit standing in the shady corner can be dismissed if not for the fact that beside him lay a disfigured Louis Vuitton bag, as if the round bundle of something is too big to fit in. Any normal person would have dismissed it.
However, he was not the Saviour of the Wizarding World once for nothing. The lifeless but highly charged with energy aura of that bundle was too coincidental to be dismissed. Heck, it might even be an atomic bomb.
The siren of the ambulance was loud enough such that more and more people were making their way out of the offices, restaurants and even their hotel room to see what the commotion was about.
As if this was a cue, the man in that Armani suit took out his cell phone and began punching in numbers into them.
There was not a moment to lose. Harry Potter or not, Wizarding or Muggle World, the sense of nobility and duty to put others life before his own prevailed. With a speed that was almost non-human, he climbed over the railing and jumped to the first storey. Wizards would have sworn that he apparated to where the man was but it was pure speed. His training had seen to that.
Following Potter's gaze, Draco couldn't help but notice that pulsing energy that was contained in the Louis Vuitton bag beside the man. As he lowered his magical barrier, the aura became more feel-able.
As soon as he saw Potter jumping down the balcony, he knew Potter was about to pull of another suicidal act. It was all too predictable, as if it is written in the DNA of every single Hogwarts student, that had graced Gryffindor House with their insufferable presence.
Casting a disillusioning charm on himself, he apparated to the first storey. By then Potter had already taken the Louis Vuitton bag. The most he could do now was to prevent the terrorist from escaping.
"Open the door you bloody fools!" Harry shouted as he lugged the Louis Vuitton bag with some difficulty. It was heavy.
No one paid any attention. He screamed again. This time, people looked at him with such incredulity that he almost wanted to roll his eyes.
With a burst of speed, he reached the door, crashed it open with sheer force combined with magical energy and ran towards the empty space outside.
Just as the alarm on the clock of the bundle suddenly rang, Harry wrapped his magical energy around it and jumped onto it.
As soon as the Armani man saw what Harry had done, he tried to run for it. It would have made Potter's sacrifice meaningless if he couldn't catch the culprit. But Draco Malfoy wasn't a fighter for nothing. He grabbed the man and twisted his arm back and knocking him onto his knees.
With a single knock, he had broken two limbs, an arm and a knee.
As soon as he did so, a bullet came flying his way and embedded itself into his left shoulder joint, only missing his heart by mere inches. Another came and hit him in the stomach, which made him grunt and double over in pain.
Blood was flowing. Wizard or not, he would be unconscious in a few moments. He had hoped that those foolish muggles would eventually realise that someone had shot him and knock him down. He cursed his own carelessness.
The crack that followed froze his blood. It was the unmistakable crack of disapparation and it come from the general direction of the gun-wielder. But why?
Suddenly, Shaklebolt was beside him. After muttering a stunner at the terrorist, he helped Draco up.
However, darkness finally took over.
Years later, the trauma of the shock and the closeness never left the muggles who witnessed the explosion of the newly modified atomic bomb. It was a beautiful sight really. Had it not been the intent and the powerful blast it sent, it might even pass off as fireworks.
Harry Potter tried to keep the force under control, but it was almost impossible as the force threw him backwards. His last thought before passing out was at least the blast was contained.
"A miracle...really a miracle."
"It was a brave, if not foolish thing to do..."
"Well, he was burnt thoroughly.."
Snips of conversation reached his ears before falling out of consciousness again.
Dr Warren Wallace was puzzled. There was something not right about the bullets that had pierced into the flesh of Lucifer Black. For once, the entry point and exit point suggested that the bullet was much larger than what he was able to take out. For two, he had dug around longer that necessary and still did not find any remnants of bullets embedded in the skin.
The man had been bleeding and unconscious when he was brought to the hospital. Except for the very weak pulse that the man displayed, he might as well have been dead. After four days of critical observation, there did not seem to be any improvements to the man's condition even though the bullets had been removed. The man didn't even show the unconscious response that a human being should show even though he was in a coma.
Dr Wallace prided himself on being one of the best surgeons in John Hopkins Medical Centre and when something isn't right, there was only one thing for it. He wrote an email to his long-time friend Dr Haydn.
First degree burns took at least six weeks to recover from, especially when it ate deep into the flesh. Some never made it back to the world of the living. However, Harold Evans was never an ordinary person. Two weeks was all it took. When he finally regained consciousness from what he thought was a very long and tiring sleep, he groaned. Then remembering the events that transpired, he asked in a raspy voice, "Am I in heaven?"
Bandaged from head to toe, he could not turn his head to look at where he was. All his line of vision offered was the telly and the ridiculously white ceiling.
Apparently, he wasn't the only person in the room as the steady rhythm of tap-tap-tap that sounded irritating, stopped at once when he spoke.
"Apparently not, Potter. No place is heaven when we're together."
Oh.
And that voice was familiar.
Bloody hell!
He groaned again, but for entirely different reasons.
If he ever gets to heaven on day, he would kill Fate.
Author notes:
No prize for guessing who the other person is.
This had been a very fun chapter to write.
Did I mention that I have a friend called Carissa and we called her Lars? Goes to show that be careful of just what you name your character for they might just come true.