Harry Potter and the Spirit of Revenge
Chapter 17: Convergences
Please Read and Review. I'd like to know what I'm doing right (to keep doing it), and what I'm I doing wrong (to correct it).
Hogwarts
It was several hours later that Bill Weasley and his partner DarkClaw (1) finished. In the meanwhile, Madame Bones and Tonks had crashed in the closest empty classroom, transfiguring a couple of field beds to sleep while the Curse Breaker worked. Adding half of a Calming Draught to some tea helped both witches to fall asleep in a matter of minutes.
"Madame Bonesy?" A young house elf asked softly, awakening the DMLE director. "Mr Weesli saying they ready to open the trunk."
She wiped her eyes and shook her head to clear the last dregs of sleep. "Thank you, please tell him we are on our way."
A couple of minutes later, two rested witches stood next to Moody's trunk. Weasley tapped his wand on the lock, opening it with a definitive click. "You were right to call us, Madam Bones, there was a nasty sequence of delayed curses on the trunk. Wouldn't have been noticeable in the short run, but would have caused a catastrophic casting failure during a stressful situation. Basically, depriving the victims of their access to magic just when they needed it the most. Took a combo of wizard and goblin magic to disarm them quickly. By myself, it would have taken close to a week. Gringotts will be sending a detailed report on exactly what it had to be done to clear them all."
DarkClaw nodded, her voice grating and coarse. "We will add this trigger sequence to our Senior tests. It was that complicated." She examined her nails, "And we will charge an extra 3%, on account of this being a rush job."
"It will be paid without protest from me or my department, Curse Breaker DarkClaw. I, in the name of the DMLE, formally acknowledge and thank the help the Goblin Nation has lent to Magical Britain."
DarkClaw nodded gravely, and gathered her tools, Bill Weasley did the same, and followed her towards the apparition point.
She turned to the elf, who was standing there, bouncing on her feet, waiting for an order or a dismissal. "Please, call Madam Pomphrey."
The elf bowed and popped away.
St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries
Room 12
Things for Harry had not been placid either. He had been extensively debriefed by the DMLE, he had stuck to his story, just as planned with Deadman.
In brief, he and Cedric had grabbed the cup at the same time, had been transported to a creepy graveyard, and he had been stunned before he even knew where they were. The wound in his arm had been inflicted while he was unconscious.
"What happened? Where's Cedric?" He asked, worry in his voice. It was the most difficult part, to pretend he didn't know the answers. But it had to be done.
The Aurors kept silent, but the Healer supervising the questioning shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter. Young Diggory passed away last night. I can assure you we did everything in our power to help him. And at the very least, he did not suffer."
Harry nodded brusquely, and cried. It was no mere fakery. Despite what Corrigan had told him, he still had emotions in him, not just rage. They were distant, but still present.
He relaxed his self-control; enough to let his grief come to the surface
Inside him, the Spectre stirred, almost as if it was chuckling. The guilty had been punished for the murder, so it was satisfied, for now.
Finally, the Aurors were satisfied with his report, sealing it with wax. It was sent to Madam Bones' office, and copied for the archive.
Only his two body guards remained. Harry lay down, his grief spent, and closed his eyes.
The two Aurors exchanged a look. "Uh, Mr. Potter? We would like to respect your privacy in this hard moment, but we are under orders not to let you out of our sight. Please, accept our apologies, and our condolences. Mr. Diggory was a very good man, from what I have heard, both during the Tournament and..." He left the rest unsaid.
"Yes. He was." Harry laid down on the bed, "He was."
A young Medi-witch entered, carrying a tray with potions and several plates of food. "Mr. Potter, I'm Patricia Moonbeam, your Medi-witch for this turn. Healer Richardson will be along in half an hour to check your health. In the meanwhile, please drink this potion before eating, and then this one once you're done."
Harry nodded tiredly. He was used to medical treatments. Too used, in fact.
Casually, the young woman waved her wand over Harry; casting diagnostic charms under the vigilant eyes of the two Aurors. "Good, you are recovering nicely. Healer Richardson will be pleased."
She turned to the Aurors, "Um, I know it is somewhat irregular, but we have a Gringotts Eagle in the waiting room. It has a letter to Mr. Potter. That ill-mannered bird snaps at everybody who gets near. Do you think it could deliver its letter to Mr. Potter?"
The taller of the two rubbed his ear, thinking. "Call Auror Ernst, he should be making the rounds. Send him here, please."
The witch nodded, "Sure." And with a bow, she left.
A few minutes later, the eagle had been brought to Harry. The letter was delivered, the Eagle bowed its head towards Harry, and took flight immediately, managing to dodge everything and everybody in its search for an open window, despite its large size. Evidently its instructions had not included waiting for an answer.
"Um..." he showed the envelope to the Aurors, it read "Private and confidential, only to be read by Mr. Harry Potter."
Both Aurors made a point of averting their eyes. Harry cracked the wax seal and began to read. He noticed the extremely expensive parchment.
"Lord Potter.
Due to recent events you were involved in, Gringotts notifies you of the assignement of an additional vault to your name. This is in addition to the vaults you already possess, that will be turned to you at your coming of age.
The origin and content of this vault are to be discussed with you, and only with you, at your convenience. No other person will be accepted, as stipulated by the original owner of the vault.
Please send a note with your preferred date and time to my personal attention at Gringotts.
Your enemies shall fall at the mere mention of your shadow, and your vault shall overflow with their bounty.
Respectfully,
Ragnok
Leader of the Gold Reaper Clan, Goblin Nation, Britain
Gringotts
Consortium of Goblinary Finance & Red-Nosed Wizard Investors (Goblin High Council, Britain Branch)
Post Script
Due to security concerns, this letter will evaporate two seconds after you have finished reading it, Lord Potter."
As the letter said, a moment after reading it, the parchment turned into a soft mist, dissolving in the air.
"Problems with the goblins, Mr. Potter?" The tallest Auror asked.
"Might be... it's a summon from the big guy..." Harry's brows knotted on his forehead, distorting the shape of his scar.
"Be firm, don't you ever give them a single inch, or they will clean your vault. Maybe you should get a solicitor."
"I-I don't think it will be necessary."
"Hey, if you'd like some spiritual support, I'm available. Just scratch your nose if yes." Deadman said while sitting on the air next to the Auror.
"I think it will be better if I go by myself." Harry continued, addressing both the Auror and Deadman with the same answer.
Deadman smiled, while the Auror did scratch his own nose. Amused, the spirit pointed at the man with his thumb, "That was a cool coincidence or I can influence his subconscious mind."
Harry was about to open his mouth when somebody knocked at the door.
Heathrow Airport.
"Hello, Beryl." Bruce Wayne smiled widely at the young woman holding a cardboard sheet that read, "B. Wayne."
"Welcome to England, Mr. Wayne! My boss sends his regards, he couldn't be here due to previous engagements, but I'll do my best to help."
"Of course, I have no doubt of that." He turned sideways, "Beryl, I'd like to introduce Mr. John Jones, my bodyguard. John, Miss Beryl Hutchinson."
After the introductions, Beryl guided them to the car, a big black Jaguar Mk 2 (2). A big smile cracked Jones' stony face. "Beautiful. It brings memories."
Wayne simply arched an eyebrow. The Martian Manhunter had been on the planet for a long time. Mentally, he shrugged and filed the words for later.
Once inside the car, Beryl flipped a couple of switches. "Okay, Mr. B. We are now under a top quality anti-surveillance equipment. Sound and visually, you two are discussing your stay, and I'm quietly driving. So we can speak freely. Cyril told me you two are working a case. So, what can this humble Squire help you with?"
Bruce Wayne's affability dropped like a mask. "There's a new Spectre. Somewhere in England, a teenager has been chosen to wield that power."
Beryl's jaw dropped. "Oh. Are you absolutely sure it's here in England?"
Jones morphed back into his public guise as the Martian Manhunter, "The Phantom Stranger informed the JLA."
"He's involved?" Beryl parked the car in the first available spot, and turned around to face the pair. "That's bad. The last time he appeared the Knight and me ended up knocking down a couple of Druidic circles and tangling with half the Thursday Night Society of Maladjusted Dandys!" (3). She hit the steering wheel with the palms of both hands, "In a bog in prehistoric Wales! A bloody big dragonfly ate my hat!"
"Interesting as that story must be, time is the essence." (4) The Martian commented. "Have there been any rumors in the Time in a Bottle?"
"Well... I'm not sure, haven't been there for about a forthnight. From what I've heard of the Spectre, subtle he is certainly not. But we can go and ask if anybody has heard something."
Batman nodded, "If the new Spectre behaves like his predecessor, his M.O. will include violent retribution in an impossible way. Preferably, with an ironic punishment. However, we don't know his proclivities yet."
"Great..." Beryl grumbled. "Just fine and dandy great. That means reading the binners." She composed herself immediately. "So, I'll stop at the next place and buy all the newspapers Cyril is not subscribed to. I guess you'll want to get your stuff before going to the castle?"
"No need. I took the liberty of sending a package to the castle, it should arrive after us."
"Any new toys?" She grinned at the chance to see some new gadget in action.
"The usual list, with some improvements. No prep time to gather or build gadgets (5) would help against the Spectre. What we need is knowledge. If we can find out where he is, his background and psychology, then we would have an edge."
The Martian Manhunter sighed disapprovingly, but knew arguing wouldn't be any help.
Heathrow Airport
43 minutes later.
Madame Xanadu stopped for a moment at the doors of the airport. There was a familiar feeling to the air. 'Somebody powerful in deed and soul has walked here recently.' She thought.
She shook her head and smiled at the cabbie who would take her to a nice hotel, the Crow Croft Hotel. The staff had been very courteous to her in her las visit to her native country, and she liked the place.
Once settled in her room, she sat at the table of her suite, and shuffled her cards, more to settle her mind than any want to read the Tarot.
Her deck always needed some time to get used to a chance of venue.
Once she was satisfied with the feeling of the cards, she returned the deck to its box. She took the phone, and called a real state agency. She needed to establish her new shop quickly. Rather, shops. One in mundane London and another in Diagon Alley. Connected to each other, of course. She had more than enough gold in her Gringotts vault to pay for the service. And had not touched it since the 1850s, at least.
London
"Really?" His eyes went round behind his spectacles.
"Indeed." The man in shadows answered.
"A whole school? Why didn't you show me that before?"
"Their way of doing magic is too restrictive for your potential. Had you gone there your growth would have been stunted."
"So, why now?"
"One of the young students has transcended into a higher level of magic. He surpasses even yours at your current stage."
"Then I won't have to worry much around this bloke?"
"No. And he has an impressive control over his magic already. I think it will be beneficial for the two of you to meet."
The teenager stroke his chin for a few moments. "Sounds good. Fine, I accept. He better likes owls, I'm not leaving Yo-yo behind." He looked around, and patted his pockets, "Hmm..Where's that bird?"
Hogwarts
Outside Gryffindor Tower, a brown owl raised its head. Hesitated between staying or going back to its master.
A weak prek from the white owl next to it decided. The brown owl rubbed its head against its companion's, as if supporting her. As it did so, a small spark of magic passed between the two.
London
"Ow!" Tim Hunter exclaimed, it had felt as a spark between his eyes, he took his eyeglasses off, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Hogwarts
Headmaster's Office
"Are you absolutely sure, Kingsley?" Headmaster Dumbledore asked, popping a lemon drop into his mouth.
"He has been positively identified. Madame Bones had me put Pettigrew in one of the specials cells; under glamours, to keep him as anonymous as possible. Not that he actually needed the special cell. Pettigrew is out like a light, and I doubt he will wake up anytime soon. Whatever happened to him, overpowered stunner, potion accident, unknown curse, medical condition or whatever else you could think of, the man is dead to the world. And I don't think he will improve anytime soon. The snake kept pumping venom in his veins last I saw him."
"I wonder…" Dumbledore mused, "what could be the reason he is still alive. He was a mediocre wizard at best, so it's not magical resistance…"
"No idea, Dumbledore. The man's presence at a crime scene tells us he was involved in the events. The Dark Mark implies it was as a willing participant." Shaklebolt hit the desk with his left hand, startling Dumbledore. "Hell's Wide Doors, Dumbledore! Him being alive throws doubt on the Sirius Black sentence!"
Dumbledore took a long time to think. Finally, he whispered. "Indeed, it does. Who else knows about this?"
Kingsley paced around the office, "Madam Bones, of course; she was the one who found him. Tonks, Dawlish, and Proudfoot. Madame Bones wants to keep this a secret, the rest of the team in Little Hangleton were too far away to listen.
Author Notes
(1) After I chose the name, I remembered exactly where I knew the Dark Claw name. It is the Amalgam mix of Batman and Wolverine. I'm keeping it, as it is a cool name for a goblin. Female, for the sake of variety, and the capital letter in the middle is completely intentional.
(2) To be honest, I don't know much about cars, so I did a quick search in the web, and the Jaguar Mk2 fit into my mental image of the kind of car the local Batman proxy would use in his civilian life.
(3) Pretty much like it was with most of the characters introduced in the Knight and the Squire miniseries, I'm just dropping a name and explaining nothing!
(4) I would like to see how that happened. Still not explaining!
(5) Personally, I prefer the 1990s version of Batman, before he was simplified to "Angry guy who pretends to have other emotions. Who happens to be prepared for even the most farfetched possibility".
To WearyCurmudgeon
-Site:
It was a very annoying glitch, I have began crossposting to AO3, not only this story, but also several others.
-Inheritance:
Very true, but they were not warned their wands would be taken. Next round, some of them will think of bringing daggers.
- Calming:
Also very true. The point will be raised next time there's a meeting to examine possible future business ventures.
I didn't even think of chewing tobacco. It might be a cheap alternative for some of the goblins who are not in banking. IIRC, the goblin who wanted a bowtruckle in one of the Fantastic Beasts movies was smoking a cigar.
- Visitors
J'Onn is very tolerant of Batman's manias. He knows that if he simply knocked Bats down, the guy would simply go anyway, without adult supervision. His presence in England is less to protect him from the consequences of his folly and more to limit the collateral damage. He knows that the same stubbornness that has helped Batman in the past is his worst flaw. J'Onn would prefer to be a diplomat if possible, and hopes to be able to defuse things before they go too far. And yes, there will be consequences.
Now that you mention Batman's self-righteousness… he has a lot in common with Dumbledore! Keeps information to himself, thinks he always knows best, treats allies like chess pieces, keeps his enemies alive despite the oncoming murder spree when they escape, they put orphans in dangerous situation (at least Batman trains them for the job).
About the Joker, well… Batman's adventure with a Jokerified Spectre (Spectre Vol 3 #51, March 1997) did shake him to the very core. If not for that, he would probably have listened to the Phantom Stranger's advice and left things alone. He is allowing his fear to control him.
Corrections:
"tispeay" Nope, you won't find it anywhere. 😁 I just made up a word. Glad to see it sounds convincing enough to be checked! I feared it would sound too ludicrous.