Harry Potter and the Spirit of Revenge
Chapter 9: Long Wait
St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries
It took a while, as the team of Aurors removed the corpses from the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, but Director Amelia Bones finally had the chance to go to St. Mungo's to check on Harry Potter's health.
To her surprise, she was almost assailed by the Welcome Witch. "Madame Bones, Thank Merlin you're here! I wish to make a serious charge."
Mme. Bones sighed. "Have you spoken with the Aurors I sent?"
"No, m'am. They are either in a room, watching over a patient, or patrolling the halls. Neither has even stopped for tea."
Bones nodded, she expected the men to act professionally. She turned to her companion. "Auror Tonks, please take the report while I check in on our witness." The young Auror nodded, and brought out a sheet of parchment and a quill. Madame Bones turned back to the Welcome Witch, "Who attends to the patient I sent with Auror escort?"
"Oh, that would be Healer Richardson, he must be with the patient now, Room 12."
While Tonks did as instructed, and the two wizards waiting in the same room asked when they would allowed to go home, Amelia Bones strode to the room in question. She knocked at the door, a simple code that identified her. Dawlish opened the door a few seconds later. To Bones displeasure, the man had his wand hanging loosely from his fingers. Proudfoot, on the other hand, covered the door with his own wand. "At rest, gentlemen." She addressed Healer Richardson. "How's Mr. Potter?"
"He lost a lot of blood, but he's going to be better soon." He answered. Sadly, he shook his head. "Young Mr. Diggory, on the other hand… he… he didn't make it."
Bones face paled. "Is his father still here?"
Richardson put his hands in his pockets. "In the Waiting Room for Family, Madame Bones. We have a monitoring charm on him, just in case he…" the Healer left the words die unsaid.
"I understand, Healer Richardson. I understand too well… I'll go talk to him." She turned to her two Aurors, who immediately stood in attention. "Your replacements will arrive soon. Go home, eat something, and rest. I'll see you later."
She sent a quick Patronus message to the DMLE , asking for two Aurors to relieve Proudfoot and Dawlish.
A Transcontinental Flight
Somewhere Over the Atlantic Ocean
Economy Class
At the moment, John Constantine was almost certain his multiple sins had finally caught up with him.
It was, pure and simply put, the most insidious, devious, and awful torture he could imagine. He could handle pain, death threats, and assorted violence of almost any kind with a wink in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.
He had faced demons, cultists, heroes, villains, gods and monsters more than once. True, it had always costed him more than it was fair.
But this was self-inflicted torture.
Being squeezed between two over-overweight tourists, perspiring heavily and wheezing each and every breath? Who insisted on talking loudly over him as if he wasn't even there? In a place and time he didn't dare to use magic? At least, not until the plane was well over the Atlantic Ocean, hopefully far enough from England that the new Spectre wouldn't catch the smell of his magic.
It was making him reconsider his current course of action. Maybe facing a new and probably still traumatized Spectre, just after their ascention into the avatarship for the Divine Wrath wouldn't be so bad.
St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injurie
(Astral Plane)
Deadman and the Spectre spent a good while just talking. Deadman had decided to simply ignore the brief absence of the Spectre. He knew very well that somebody had been sent to their final rest, and had no wish to discuss it.
Instead, he spent the time educating his young companion about the bigger world he was now a part of.
The boy in Harry Potter' soul wondered at the tales of his ghostly companion. Despite everything he had to contend with in life, there was still a place for a child with bright eyes, listening to tales of heroes and villains. Where good people still could hope things would be okay.
In a dimensional pocket near the Spectre, Nagini slept and dreamed.
She awoke with a start.
What would she do?
Right now, she was in a perfectly comfortable place. She felt better than she had been for decades. Ever since her curse had locked her in her snake form.
Years of hiding, of avoiding people, of killing small prey to survive, those years were a slab of stone over her heart.
For a moment, she wished she had had the simple mind of a true snake. Not being able to feel the prison her own body had become.
Her unblinking eyes tried to find something to look at in this warm white expanse. There was nothing but herself.
Herself and her thoughts.
She missed her friends. Even her old life as a circus freak attraction would be better than this descent into the snake she turned into. Just enough of a mind to feel human emotions, and enough animal instincts to have to act as a snake. And feel remorse after the fact.
But the worst was being dominated by another. One who made sure she enjoyed obeying his orders. Voldemort made a big show of treating her like a precious pet, but it was only a show. She had as much of a chance to disobey as a puppet had of cutting its own strings and keep on moving.
Nagini curled up, hiding her head in her coils . Despite the warmth, a chill ran all over her spine.
She remembered that emotion very well. It was pure and unadulterated fear.
Despite everything, she still could fear for her life.
She had no way to know what she felt was not her fear.
It was the fear of two small time crooks.
It was the fear of two murderers who had killed for a few coins, without any remorse.
It was the fear of two criminals who had finally met their doom. In the shape of a young man dressed in white and green, whose body was the source of a tide of blood.
Enough blood to drown them.
New York City
Greenwich Village
Hokus & Pokus Occult Curioso
"Very well, my children. Pack everything and be ready to send it to London." The owner of the fortune telling place snapped close a small suitcase. Technically, she could always travel through the Oblivion Bar, but as she wanted to establish herself legally back in the land of her birth, changed as it was, she preferred to travel over the ocean in a mundane way. She directed the small group of helpers with a few commands, "You'll know where, once I have made arrangements for a suitable place in mundane London."
"Yes, Madame." A fat man answered, while a woman of Asian descent, with short, black hair hung up the phone, "Your plane ticket awaits you at the Lexair booth in the airport. It was the first flight available, and I managed to upgrade it to First Class without overcharge. I also called a cab for you, it will be waiting you in the street." She passed a slip of paper to her mistress, "This is its ID number."
"Well done, Kim. Help your companions to pack. Make sure to send everything to my warehouse, and to have everything properly packed for an airplane trip to London."
All of then nodded, and without any other word, they obeyed, quick and efficient, as always.
Madame Xanadu took her suitcase, took her keys from the old porcelain plate by the door, and left.
Fudge Manor
Cornelius Fudge had waited for a long while for his friend Lucius Malfoy. The wealthy pure-blood never arrived to Hogwarts.
The Minister sighed heavily, as he sipped some tea in his study. The Floo connection was inactive at the moment.
Fudge was worried. He had not had any news of Lucius. He had thought about calling Lucius' wife, but it was very late now, and he decided against it. Still, he would call her tomorrow, as early as socially acceptable.
The Moon
JLA Watchtower
Monitor Room
J'Onn J'Onnz watched a multitude of screens in the wall, alert for any crisis that would need the involvement of the Justice League of America. As always, relatively minor problems all around the world needed attention. He called the heroes closest to each one, and usually, the problem would be solved in a few minutes, hours at the most.
He took a mug full of steaming chocolate, and leaned back on the chair. "Things are quiet tonight." He whispered.
A soft voice answered. "Appearances can deceive, J'Onn J'Onnz."
The Martian Manhunter stood up in a moment, to confront the intruder. He found himself facing an old ally. An honorary member of the JLA.
"Phantom Stranger!" He relaxed a bit. Just a bit, the Stranger was no threat, but he always appeared with a warning and cryptic advice. Never to just have a chat or to greet old friends. He had been nominated for full membership years ago, but didn't take on the offer, without even mentioning a reason. So, his status had been downgraded to "Honorary Member", giving him limited privileges that he never used, and no defined responsibilities beyond whatever he imposed on himself.
One of the standard operating procedures of the JLA was to always pay attention to his warnings and advice.
"What's happening?" asked the last son of Mars.
The mysterious man spoke with a level voice. "A new host has been chosen. A new Spectre has risen. He will come to help when his help is required. I ask you that the JLA wait for him to come."
"Who?" J'Onn asked, partly worried, partly relieved. He himself was one of the most powerful heroes on Earth, Superman-level, but the Spectre's powers were so far above his own that he was, comparatively speaking, on the same level as a new-born kitten. Jim Corrigan, the man who had been the Spectre for decades, had been finally laid to rest. J'Onn had attended his funeral and his releasing of the Spectre-force. The Spectre was one of the most powerful forces in the whole universe, and had prevented catastrophes on a cosmic level, but the still-recent razing of Vlatava weighted heavily in his mind.
"A young man this time." The Stranger's voice interrupted his musings, "I will talk to him about his responsibilities. Hopefully, he will listen. I ask for the JLA to keep some distance, but be ready to welcome him into the world. His existence has been very insular."
"Very well. I will call for an emergency meeting right now. I think the JSA should be included too, after all, the previous Spectre used to be a member." He tapped a series of keys in the computer console, and turned back to face the Stranger.
The man wasn't there anymore. As always, once his presence wasn't required anymore, he vanished as if he had never been there.
The first answer was, predictably, Batman's.
J'Onn explained the situation, keeping information from the Dark Knight Detective would be a grave breach of professional courtesy.
And it would be useless anyway.
Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada
St. Paul's Hospital , Room 319
Meanwhile, at a hospital room very far from England, a young woman slept an uneasy sleep. She had been there for almost three years, in a deep coma. She had no relatives nor friends to visit her.
Officially, she had been rescued from a car crash after spending half an hour under water.
That was a lie.
Officially, she had a name.
Also a lie.
She had brown eyes and short brown hair.
Even her face was a lie.
She had been a costumed hero once. Until she and her partner had been manipulated as pawns in an old and complicated power game between Order and Chaos.
Now, she lay on a hospital bed. Waiting to be found and released.
She had no idea her fate would lead her back to the place where she had been gifted with power.
And into a new world, where magic prevailed.
Hogwarts
Gryffindor Dormitories (Girls' Side)
Hermione Granger opened her eyes in the dark, looking upwards. She turned around, and once again, tried to sleep. But she only managed to entangle herself in the sheets.
Sleep would be long to come.
Hogwarts
Gryffindor Dormitories (Boys' Side)
Ron Weasley snored peacefully, next to the only empty bed in the room. There were very few things capable of disturbing his appetite or his sleep; so, the fact that he could sleep soundly despite his supposed best friend disappearance would not endear him to the female third of the Golden Trio. He turned around, dreaming of the impossible victory of his favorite Quidditch team.
Outside, a white owl tried to rest on a branch. She tried to find her companion, but their link felt strangely frayed, close to breaking. Hedwig didn't dare to fly to her friend for fear of cutting their link.
She put her head under her wing, and barked sadly. The sound was barely audible, even to herself.
A nearly silent rustling caught her attention. Her head came back out from under her wing.
Next to her was a brown owl, with almost resplendent feathers. It was also smaller than her, but was soaked in so much magic Hedwig could practically hear it.
The brown owl hooted supportively, and Hedwig resumed her vigil.
Hogwarts
Kitchens
Finally, after long and painful hours, Dobby's body could not resist more. Still crying, the house-elf floated back down, until his bare feet touched the hard stone floor. His legs gave up under him, and he fell down slowly.
Before he hit the ground, the other elves caught him with magic, and levitated his unconscious body back to his bed. A nest built from discarded sacks, half empty pillows, and a quilt lovingly made of old socks.
Dobby closed his eyes, and sleep claimed him.
The oldest elves shook their heads, not knowing what to do.
A broken voice took the decision for them, "Winky bes taking care of Dobby, Winky doing that." The female elf arranged the clothes, making sure her friend was comfortable. "Dobby bes comfy now," she caressed Dobby's forehead. The only truly free elf in England trembled fitfully.
Malfoy Manor
Narcissa Malfoy paced around, dressed with her best set of robes. Lucius had instructed her to wait for him, showing the impeccable image of the highest echelon pure-blood wife.
She was not sure of the reason, but she suspected it would have something to do with the Dark Lord. She had caught Lucius grimacing and covering his left forearm with his right hand. He had suppressed his pained moan immediately, reducing it to a simple gasp.
She had everything ready for Lucius' return.
Hours ago.
Still, she waited and waited.
The arrival of a Hogwarts owl bringing a letter from Draco had given her hope Lucius would return soon.
And so, she waited.
London, A Dilapidated House
A Room far from the street.
Next day, another thief would open the door to the abandoned building, only to be knocked off his feet by a wave of semi-coagulated blood, and the corpses of his two friends.
By the time their bodies would be found, their executioner would be long gone into the night, and into the body of a murdered teenager.
The autopsy would later reveal that both men had really drowned in blood.
Their deaths would be a mystery to baffle investigators for decades to come.
At least, to those investigators who adhered to a scientific or materialistic point of view. Those with more open minds or the necessary experience would suspect who had relieved the crooks of their worthless lives.
But they would only voice their suspicions to trusted friends, and most wouldn't even do that without some drinks in their bellies.
Author Notes
I'm not going for an action filled story here. I want to focus on the characters inner monologues and emotions for a while, along with some vignettes to set the scene for later.
It always seemed to me a bit weird that the bigger heroic community didn't pay more attention to the Spectre. Sure, the guy tended to focus on small-time criminals, but any entity with such power should be watched, preferably from afar.
If you're familiar with the JSA title from back in the late 1990s-early 2000s, you probably know where in the continuity I'm working at. There is a big battle in the horizon for the Spectre and some friends of his predecessor.
On a more personal note, I am amazed at how well this story has been received. Proportionally, it is my most popular story. Thank you all who have put this story (or me) in their Favourites and/or Alerts.