For such a small village Little Hangleton had a history so deeply entrenched in the legends and histories of Avalon that a scholar could spend decades just trying to uncover everything and still fail miserably. Even the few people that still called the village home didn't know all that had taken place within its borders. So much had been lost to the passage of times. Fathers failing to talk to their sons. Daughters believing they had no time for the tales of their mothers. A cycle of forgetfulness and errors that led to all that should have been remembered fading into nothingness.
Fact became heresy and rumor, muddled together until it was impossible to tell what was true and what were the tall tales of the desperate seeking attention. Then these too disappeared, replaced by half-remembered whispers and fragmented memories. And even those crumbled to dust until the past was lost.
But just because something was forgotten didn't mean it didn't happen. That it hadn't mattered. And as it was with so many things… the past played a role in the present and the future no matter how much people may have wished it to be otherwise. Because the past did not care about one's desires. It did not care how desperately people tried to ignore what had come before. The past remained.
Little Hangleton had been founded by a group of Pokemon trainers who wished to create a place of solitude and quiet for those that had suffered loss. Avalon in its ancient days had been a land of strife where wars were started, fought, and decided within the blink of an eye. Young men marched to battle and came home knowing their sons would have to do the same thing. The lucky ones, at the very least. It was only AZ and his dark war that shook the entire world from its stupor and made them realize that there was more to life than constant feuding. And thus Little Hangleton had been made by those that had lost the least, to allow those that lost the most a chance to grieve their dead and remember the better times. Ghost type Pokemon soon began to dwell there but not the pranksters and the tricksters. No … quiet Golurks that strode amongst the tombstones and the memorials, ever watchful and protectful. Honedge and Doubledge and Aegislash guardedthe tombs of their fallen lords and greeted their families who came to pay their respects. Driftlooms as well… not the cruel kind that snatched up naughty children but the gentle ones that would appear to a little boy or girl crying over their parent's grave and offer them kindness and love. This was the land that Little Hangleton was and it was a place of mourning, yes, but also healing.
For a time.
From this village came a man, Salazar Slytherin. Though only the Unown remembered this now, for all of Avalon believed Salazar to be a traveler who'd wandered the reaches of Avalon since birth and had no home of his own. But Salazar had been a native of Little Hangleton and while he would never return to the town after leaving it to join with three dear friends to learn under Merlin and create the greatest school for Pokemon Trainers in the Avalon region, he would remember it fondly. It was this reason why his second born son would, after his father's death at the hands of Salazar the 2nd, who disgraced the family name, would come to that town to live… and grieve the destruction of his family thanks to the greed and malcontent of a small man with far too big dreams.
Little Hangleton became a town where the heroes of the region would eventually go to relax. Scholars, scientists, teachers, masters of the theater and the written world. All would find themselves in one small cabin or another so they might spend the rest of their days in gentle and quiet consideration of the lives they had lived. Poet Armstrong Vance would call Little Hangleton home for 20 years, penning many of his famous somber lines after walking through the fading memorials and crumbling headstones.
But it would be one man who came from this village who would rival even Salazar himself in how he affected Avalon as a whole: Tom Riddle.
Born to a daughter of the Gaunt family, descendants of Salazar's last remaining child, and the Riddle family who had been caretakers in Little Hangleton for centuries, Tom's tale would have been one for the history books even without the War that would be made in his name. An Avalon Pokemon champion and avid lover of history, he would eventually set his sights on Hogwarts itself, seeking to learn more about its founding.
And the Keystone he would find there… and the Phantom that would eventually consume Tom's soul and take his life as his own… led to the Avalon Civil War.
Here too Little Hangleton played a role. The village was the first one that Voldemort and his Nocturne Agents took full control of after the man known only as Looker revealed his schemes to all of Avalon, tearing away the veil of cultured political revolutionary and showing all the foul thing that truly walked among them. Voldemort's vengeance was shift and Little Hangleton was the first to feel his wrath. His agents swept through the village, slaughtering any who did not bow, and to truly mock Avalon he had his Team destroy much of the graveyards around the village. They remained visible but any damage that could be done so he might remind the world that he had been there was taken. Headstones shattered, Memorials vandalized. Corpses pulled from tombs and desecrated. All this Voldemort and his Agents did… as much to punish his enemies as to mock his loyal minions who had joined Nocturne in order to 'preserve the old ways of Avalon'.
After the end of the War some token effort had been put into restoring Little Hangleton but nothing truly came of it. Diversion of funds to go to pet projects (which happened to be controlled by Nocturne-friendly advisers within the corrupt Avalon government), more pressing needs, and a general sense that Little Hangleton was no longer needed. Avalon was experiencing a time of growth once more, a post-war boom as people celebrated the end of Nocturne. The time for quiet reflection on all they had lost wasn't needed, for families just wanted to move on with their lives. The Great War and the Avalon Civil War had left everyone in the region suffering from malaise and depression during them and now that there was light again in the world people just wanted to forget, not dwell.
Perhaps… had things remained at peace for a long time, Little Hangleton would have risen again. The post war celebration would have faded away and the need for a place to remember what had been lost would have returned again.
But instead Voldemort and Nocturne chose the village as the site of Voldemort's latest attempt to claim Harry Potter's body as his own.
With that failed attempt the second Avalon Civil War bubbled like water in a pot, threatening to burst forth. All knew it was coming, for there had been hints of it with the attack of the Avalon prison and later the Ministry… but all knew those were merely the hints of the war. Not the true salvo.
That came shortly before the Solstice, on a cold winter night.
"Flamethrower!"
"Self-Destruct!"
Fires broke out. Explosions rocked the night.
"Find me some pretty dollies to play with!" Bellatrix LeStrange cackled to the Nocturne Agents under her command. She was dressed in a mix of old Victorian Era garb and modern punk: high black leather boots, a long tattered skirt and holey top. Her hair was a wild mess of tangled curls which reflected well the mangled remains of her deranged mind. Once she had merely been violent and fanatical. A threat, yes, but one with a mind that could focus.
But there was a reason why it was forbidden to become a Pokemagnus with a Ghost Type. Their unliving state simply did not mesh well with a living human's mind.
Standing on a small hill Bellatrix laughed and spun as she began to direct her forces like a conductor leading a big brass band. Her arms waved about as she gestured at random houses and structures, demanding they be burned and brought down. Her agents were quick to act on these orders, for they knew the punishment that would come if they failed. Bellatrix was not one to take failure lightly and though her muddled brain didn't realize it many of her agents were assigned to her as punishment for failures. A final chance to earn back their place on the team… or die during one of her fits.
"Let them come out, let them come!" Bella giggled before tossing out a Pokeball, sending out her Misdreavus. The ghost giggled along with her mistress before the two of them leapt at each other, merging into a Mismagnus who screeched with manic glee as another few brain cells were further destroyed. The two of them raced down into the village proper, all thoughts of organized attack forgotten as Bella and her Pokemon lost themselves in the bloodlust. Her agents chased after her… only to scatter when the magnus pokemon suddenly changed directions, firing off Shadow Balls and Nightshade attacks at anything that moved. It didn't matter if they were friend or foe, Bella just wanted to see everyone scatter. In her fragmented mind it was the greatest way to honor her lord and master, to spread chaos throughout the world.
During her time at Hogwarts Bellatrix had been a terror, yes, but one that could be admired. Many wished to be part of her inner circle. Others longed to be with her. She was violent and emotional but there had been a method there. She was a Black and that ancient family knew how to snap to attention in times of need and make all tremble with their single focus. The same had been true of Bellatrix Black. To know her was to ride the tornado: the attempt might kill you but if you mastered it you held a power that could make even gods tremble.
But those days were long past. Even Voldemort saw this. He remembered how his greatest Admin had once been and the cackling wreckage of humanity that Bella had become disgusted the leader of Nocturne. The woman she had been in Hogwarts could have helped him conquer Avalon with ease. Just the two of them and enough time to plan. But now she was a berserker. No more or less.
He did not rid himself of her purely because he so hated waste. Everyone had a purpose, that is what he preached.
And sometimes what he needed wasn't a cunning battlefield general… but a distraction.
An old couple, twisted by the years until they were like the gnarled trees that sat sentry in their front yard, hurried out of their house, glaring with impotent rage at Nocturne as they attacked. One Agent smirked and threw out a Vileplume, the poison type pressing her stubby arms to her mouth and giggling before releasing a poison powder. The husband and wife suddenly stiffened before falling to their knees, grasping at their throats, clawing at the skin of the necks until they were red ribbons as they tried to stop their throats from closing up.
Another agent went after a young man who lived on his own in a house that had once been cared for with love but now might as well have been abandoned. In this the home reflected its owner, with his scruffy beard and filthy hair and food-stained clothing. He was rail thin with wild eyes and as he saw the destruction of Little Hangleton he began to rant and rave, screaming about how this was proof that he had been right, that the end of days were upon them and at long last the liars and the frauds would be cast aside and men like him would rise up.
A Paralyzing Jab from a floating Tentacruel caused him to freeze in place, only his eyes twitching as three snickering Nocturne agents walked up to his stiff form, pulling out thin knives. He had spent months screaming at anyone who would listen about his theories and beliefs and become all the more enraged when no one would listen. Now there was no one to hear him but Nocturne… and he couldn't even whisper as the agents took turns stabbing him in non-vital areas, laughing behind their Yamasks as the scruffy man's eyes spun about. He was a corpse that hadn't realized he was already dead.
"HEHEHEHEHEH!" Bellatrix cackled as her Mismagnus form flew threw a wall, easily entering another house and finding a couple who had decided to break into the abandoned place for a roll in the hay. The ghost magnus screeched in utter orgasmic delight at the toys she'd found to play with, wrapping ectoplasmic tendrils around the two nude lovers' ankles and dragging them out of the bedroom. Bellatrix was able to easily slide through the wall. The man wasn't, his body slamming against the wall over and over, cracking it and his bones as he hollered in pain. Bellatrix, annoyed gave a final hard tug and finally his spine mercifully snapped just as her grip loosened, allowing his body to fall to the ground. With proper medical care he would survive, though be paralyzed for life.
No proper care would come and he'd die choking on his own bile and stomach acid.
Not that his partner was any luckier. She got out of the house… via the window.
Shards of glass tore through her, slashing up her naked body as she screamed. But to Bellatrix this was dance music and she began to swirl and spin through the air, tossing the injured woman about, spraying everything around them with her blood. The demented woman continued on with her games for another few minutes before she realized that the woman was dead and in a sudden fit of anger at her DARING to die while she was having fun Bellatrix hurled her to the ground before firing a thunderbolt at the corpse, charring it beyond recognition.
There weren't many people that made Little Hangleton their home anymore. After so many incidents of pain most had left. Those that remained were either too stubborn to leave it, too pig-headed, or too desperate.
After that night even they wouldn't remain.
Nocturne Agents danced about in the starlight, the screams of the dying and the crackling of fires that consumed houses filling the air. There was no raping, for once, but that was only because there was no one left for such things within the village. Bellatrix and her Agents were too quick with their embraces and soon had to amuse themselves with destroying everything.
Never realizing that this was what Voldemort wanted… but not for the reason they might expect.
~MC~MC~MC~
"Aurors are finally gone," Tonks said softly, putting her binoculars away.
"Didn't leave anyone to guard the site?" Jonas Kenway said from where he was perched on the hill, looking down at the remains of Little Hangleton.
"Nope," Tonks said, resisting the urge to smile. She knew he boss wasn't in the mood. "Standard Auror training, honestly. Go in, get as many details as you can, get out."
"Even the Jennys are like that," one of Jonas' hoods muttered.
"In other regions, not ours," Jonas said. One of the biggest political disasters during his time as part of the Elite 4 had been the blow up he'd had with the Jennys and his dislike for their way of policing. Johto had nearly seen all the Jennys up and leave when he'd put in new regulations for how investigations were to be handled from then on. The Jennys, much like the Aurors, were stuck in the past, used to being reactive to crimes rather than doing all they could to become proactive. That meant they were, in all honesty, always chasing after the tails of the criminals, the burning need to catch up always with them. Jonas had hated that, having vowed after the war that he never wanted to be the underdog playing catch-up again, and that had led to his feud with the policing family. It had only been when he'd brought in members of the International Police to discuss with the Jennys just what Jonas was interested in doing that they finally decided to give it a try.
The fact that so many of the Johto Jennys were now members of his elite Hoods officers spoke to Jonas being on the right side of that debate.
"The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results," Jonas muttered before standing up. "Come on, let's go see how badly they mucked up the evidence. Tonks, take the North side along with Phillips. Shacklebolt…good with coming with me?"
Kingsley Shacklebolt nodded at that and they started down the hill.
The small troupe of people that entered the burned out remains of Little Hangleton was actually two separate groups smashed together. One half was Jonas' convert forces, who had snuck into Avalon when news had broken about the attack. The head of Johto's police forces would never be welcomed with open arms to a crime scene and frankly Jonas was pretty sure that Madame Bones and the rest of the Avalon Elite 4 would be quite happy if he never stepped foot in Avalon ever again. Which was fine because if he did have to go about things the legal way it would drive him mad. While Jonas was not his brother that didn't mean he enjoyed the song and dance politicians did. Just like his brother he found it utterly tedious with the only difference being that Jack did nothing to hide his annoyance while Jonas had always kept his emotions covered up and hidden.
Had he arrived in Avalon following proper diplomatic channels he'd been currently waking up in a hotel after a night of being wined and dined by the Avalon elite. The day that was just starting would have featured trips to areas of cultural significance, perhaps a press conference, and finally more dinners before he was bid farewell. In other words he wouldn't have done anything actually important and instead been trotted out like a show Ponyta for the masses to ooooo and aaaaaah over. 'Oh, look at the Johtoian, he isn't as savage as I thought he'd be!' Any requests to see the crime scene would have been rebuffed, with him being told that the Avalonian Jennys and Aurors had everything under control and he should just enjoy his 'vacation'.
He rolled his eyes at that.
The other half of the group that picked their way through the burned out husks of the village were people from the region itself. A motley group pieced together by Kingsley Shacklebolt after he'd gotten his family to safety and thus could truly begin the work he was born to do. Their numbers included other former Aurors such as himself who had choked under the restrictions and corruption of the Avalon government and now worked in the shadows because they believe Avalon could be saved. They had left for various reasons, be it the Tor Town incident or before that. One, Sullivan, was a grizzled old man who had once worked with the now disgraced Auror Mad-Eye Moody who had retired after the Civil War when he'd grown disgusted with the Avalon Government handing out pardons like they were penny candy from a vending machine. There were a set of grieving parents who'd lost their child in the final days of the first war and now fought in her memory. A former Nocturne Grunt who had seen the error of her ways and after proving herself to Shacklebolt (she'd allowed a full mind scan by a Psychic to prove her loyalty) worked to make right the damage she had done.
It was a small group, as Kingsley had to be sure that they were loyal to him and couldn't just accept anyone, but all were dedicated to the mission.
But that didn't mean they worked for Jonas.
"We help you because we want the same thing," Shacklebolt had told Jonas early on. "But you don't command us. You don't give us orders. You ever think of bossing us around and we cut bait."
Jonas had accepted that. Honestly he'd have done the same thing.
"What have you heard on the Auror channels?" Jonas asked as they began to sift through the wreckage of a house, looking for evidence.
"Attack was sudden. The local Jenny was overwhelmed real quickly-"
"Do we know anything about her?" Jonas asked.
"Older. A bit jaded according to my sources. That's why she ended up here… sent by the family to recoup. This was supposed to be an easy assignment."
Jonas shook his head. "Voldemort keeps returning to this place… they should have known that he'd strike again." He sighed as he came to a chalk X that marked where a body had been found; the corpse had been removed but Jonas still looked about the area, trying to piece together how they might have died and if there was something more to their death than the normal thirst for death and despair. "How'd she die?"
"She got off lucky," Shacklebolt said. "They killed her quick. Didn't want her to raise an alarm. After that though they took their time, had fun. Bellatrix led the assault."
"Anyone else spotted?" Jonas asked as he made his way over to the remains of a dressed and began to open up drawers.
"Just the normal Grunts."
"Then the other Admin must have been in disguise."
That made the former Auror's brow furrow in confusion. "Other Admin?"
"Bellatrix was a distraction," Jonas said, nodding to himself before shutting the drawer.
"She usually is but this could have just been a scare tactic. Nocturne did that all the time during the Civil War. Send in some grunts, sometimes an Admin, have them cause some destruction. It was a reminder that no place was safe and the only way to protect yourself was to join. We always saw chatter on Nocturne recruitment increase sharply after such an attack."
"Why be a victim when you can dish out the pain," Jonas muttered.
"What makes you think there was another Admin?"
"Saw it as soon as I looked down at the village. The North side of the village is completely destroyed… that's where Bellatrix hit first. She lingered there. The markers for those that died are mostly close to their homes; they didn't have a chance to get far because the attack came so quick. On the south side there are more Auror Death Markers further away, from people trying to flee. But Nocturne must have had people waiting for them and they began to push them back."
Kingsley puzzled that over for a moment. "What about in the South side of the village itself?" They were in roughly the center of the village but Shacklebolt had missed that Jonas had bypassed other houses in order to come to this one.
"A clear pathway where the destruction isn't as heavy. In fact it looks more like someone trying to cover their tracks, make it look like they didn't want this area spared. Someone was traveling, someone that was powerful enough to make Bellatrix stay on her side instead of joining in. I'm betting when the autopsies come in it will show a firm line dividing the town: those Bellatrix tortured in the North end and those that were just cut down by grunts on the South. And the line is what matters." He finally gestured towards the dresser. "That was the final key… pun intended."
"Pardon?"
"Nocturne was doing smash and burn. Attack, kill, set ablaze and move on."
"All evidence points to that," Shacklebolt stated. "I've seen sites like this before… I joined up at the end of the civil war as a rookie and got to see a lot of villages and sections of towns look like this."
"Then why did they take the time to ransack this house?"
The moment Jonas said the words Kinglsey cursed, seeing exactly what the Johtoian was talking about. Nearly all the residents of Little Hangleton had been found outside their homes, either caught trying to escape or dragged out there for fun and torture. But the man here had been found in his bedroom. Then there was the state of the room; clothing tossed about, lamps knocked over, the closet doors flung open. Someone had been searching for something, it was suddenly clear.
"Why didn't I see this?" Kingsley muttered.
"Because you weren't looking for it," Jonas told him, not rudely but rather just a simple fact. "I was, based on the line through the village."
"Very well, what did the line tell you?"
"It goes from the outskirts to one building. Past that there is a small buffer area and then the normal violence. Bellatrix was ordered to attack anything other than that path and especially that building until they were done. That's why the fire damage wasn't as great as it was with the rest of the village; it didn't have as long to burn before firefighters and Aurors arrived."
"What building is that?"
"The Little Hangleton post office," Jonas said, rolling his shoulders. "And I'd really like a look inside."
The trek to the post office was a quiet one, the two men not saying a word so they might focus on looking for clues. Though Kingsley quietly admitted to himself that he wished someone would say something because walking through Little Hangleton as it was now unnerved him. The place had always been solemn and quiet but now it truly was a home to the dead… and only the dead. He simply didn't see anyone ever choosing to live in the village ever again. Some disasters could be ignored or cast aside from living memory but this? Nocturne's attack had been a true death blow to the village. Only ghosts would make the place their home.
Finally arriving at the post office Jonas sent out his Aggron, Kiyru, to lift up the fallen parts of the roof that blocked the entrance and allow them passage inside. The lobby was a rubble-filled wreck and the two of them had to duck under fallen beams and twist their bodies around debris in order to get to the postal counter.
"Kong," Jonas said softly, sending out his Primeape. "Very light Flurry Punches on the non essential parts, please." The Pokemon nodded and with a quick rush of blows he cracked through the counter and Jonas was able to crawl on his hands and knees through the remains of the counter and under the collapse ceiling.
"What are we looking for?" Kingsley asked, sucking in his stomach as he followed after Jonas.
"I'm not sure. Could be a package… could be something else. We'll look for signs of greater damage."
"Greater dam… oh, of course." Kingsley shook his head. "They'll have waited to cover their tracks."
"Exactly. Except-" Jonas paused so he could shoulder his way past a fallen bit of wall and finally stand up, offering Shacklebolt a hand, "-that will be our clue to where they went."
It took then about ten minutes to get to where the packages came in and out but to their confusion other than the damage to the roof the loading bay was left pretty much intact. No true signs of damage, nor any signs that someone had been searching for something. The mail that now no longer had anyone to collect it remained sitting in bins and bags, undisturbed. Jonas and Kingsley poked through a few of them but otherwise were left stumped.
"Jonas," Tonks said over the comms. "We aren't turning up anything. Just normal destruction. Anything on your end?"
"I thought I had something but now I'm just confused, "Jonas admitted.
"Where are you at?"
"Post Office. Thought it might have been the focus of their attack, since it is the building with the least amount of damage, but-"
"I think I have something!" Shacklebolt called out.
"Tonks, give me a moment." Jonas ended the call and hurried over to an office Kingsley was working to get into, shoving fallen file cabinets and bits of the collapsed ceiling out of the way. "What did you find?"
"I could see fire damage through that window. None in this room, just in there. It isn't much though…"
"Better than nothing," Jonas said before grabbing onto the file cabinet and heaving it away with ease. Kingsley merely stared at him before shaking his head; Speakers and their bullshit. The two entered the room and quickly saw why there had only been fire damage in there… and not that much. "Fire suppression system. Interesting." Jonas rubbed his chin. "This building… it doesn't look up to code."
"It isn't," Shacklebolt agreed. "A lot of buildings in old villages like this are like that. Government inspector rolls in at some point complaining that things aren't to code, threatens to shut it down, then there is a small protest because it is the only building in the village that can do this or that. So they are told to get it up to code but there is never enough money… or the officials on the local level just don't see the reason to bring things up to snuff. And the cycle continues." He looked at the fire suppression system. "So why have this?"
"Looks fairly modern too," Jonas stated.
"But there are signs of an older system," Kingsley said, pointing one tile which had the sprinkler head on it which was lighter than the other tiles around it. And on one of those was a patch that had been put in. "They actually replaced it."
"That's real interesting," Jonas murmured, walking over to a file cabinet that had a drawer open, files that had been burned before getting sprayed with water sitting inside. Seeing that was a loss he went to open another one only to find it lock. "Took the keys with them or tossed them. That's why they went to the old man's house… needed to get into these files." Jonas grabbed the handle and with another bout of Speaker strength tore the drawer open with a screech of metal. "Hmmm… records."
"Of what?"
"All the packages that have come in and out of this place," Jonas stated.
"Someone was looking for something," Shacklebolt said. "Someone was tracking a package." He looked at the destroyed files. "Little Hangleton never went digital so the only copies are here."
Jonas sighed. "And they destroyed the files so we can't even tell which one they might have taken. Damn it."
Kingsley though smirked. "Actually… they didn't." He walked over to another bank of file cabinets, looking them over before finally waving to the Johtoian. "Bust this one open." Jonas, after a moment, shrugged and tore the drawer open. "Everything has to be done in duplicate. For situations just like this, where fire or flood might damage them. And both need to be kept for 10 years in separate files. You wouldn't know that unless you were in the government. Whoever was sent was told to find a file… never thought to find the second set." He reached into the file cabinet and pulled out a stack of files that were thicker than a phone book. "Going to take some time but we'll have a better idea of what they were after."
"What year is that from?" Jonas asked.
Kingsley frowned, grabbing the first file. "Hmmm… 1992."
"We're going to be looking for a file concerning a package Albus Dumbldore mailed out in May of that year that traveled through this post office. Most likely international mail."
"…how do you know that?" Kingsley said, surprised.
"Because of Nocturne… and that year."
"What are you thinking?"
Jonas considered the man for a moment before removing his comm. and making sure it was off. After a moment Shacklebolt did the same. "Tell me," Jonas whispered, "have you heard of the Master Ball?"
