Harry Potter and the Spirit of Revenge
Chapter 18: Regrets, Plans, and Questions
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).
The Next Day
Grimmauld Place
Guest's Room
Soft sobbing filled the air of one of the rooms. Nagini had awoken. At first, she felt happy to be human again. Until the weight of everything that had happened threatened to crush her spirit. The former maledictus managed to run to the bathroom, and tried to empty her stomach in the bowl, but partly missed. She had not eaten for a long time. Her snake form required little food, much less that her human body, despite being so much bigger. Even so, there was enough left of her last meal as a snake to be violently expelled.
It took her almost ten minutes to realize there was nothing but bile in her stomach.
She sat back against the wall, trembling in loathing of herself. Thankfully, the last thing she had eaten was just an animal. She didn't know, and didn't want to know, what would she have done if that was not the case.
An elf with a crooked nose popped next to her, holding a towel and looking at her with clear disapproval. "Master's guest is making mess on Black floor." He snapped his fingers and the vomit disappeared. The elf put the towel in her hands. "Master waits for guest in parlor for breakfast. Youse require Kreacher's help?"
Nagini shook her head, trying to recover her composure. "No. I'll just take a quick shower. Please inform Master Sirius I'll join him in ten minutes."
"Clean clothes being on the bed." The elf bowed shallowly, and popped away.
Nagini stepped into the shower, and scrubbed herself until her skin was an angry red.
"Dobby resting." Winky sang softly to herself, watching the other house elf stir softly. Her long fingers entwined into his. "Being resting long time."
Gradually, his eyes opened. "Master?"he looked around. His eyes, originally a pale blue, had become black as the night. Winky was very glad he now looked almost normal. Though she has never seen black eyes in an elf.
Dobby sat carefully on the bed. "Winky? Dobby having the wonderfullest dream of all…" he sighed. "Dobby dreaming of being Great Master Harry Potter's elf."
Dobby wrapped her hands around his. "Beings no dream, Dobby being Great Harry Potter's elf now."
"Dobby feeling beings strong… strong magic, strong bond. Master Harry never as strong before."
"Great Harry Potter left Dobby to Winky's care. Winky is to being sure Dobby rests and heals. Dobby's Master's asks Winky do. Winky obeys."
Waves of raw, primal magic emanated from Dobby's body. Winky marveled at Great Harry Potter's might. Somehow, Dobby had changed, just a bit. His fingers were just a bit shorter, just as his nose. It was barely noticeable for a human, but to a house-elf, it was a very clear and noticeable change.
"Dobby resting then." He settled back on the bed, "Master orders Dobby." He tapped his head. "Winky knowings where Dobby can be getting a hat?"
Hogwarts
Great Hall
Lunch time
Hermione and Luna had gone through their classes barely paying attention. Both had been going over the revelations of the day, again and again.
Hermione tried to fit the vengeful nature of the Spectre, and it's dual essence, with what she knew of Harry. Her friend had never shown any vengeful impulses, even when he believed Sirius had betrayed his parents, he was more worried than angry; to be honest, it worried her. She feared the Spectre, or rather, its mandate, would turn Harry into a bloodthirsty monster.
Luna, on the other hand, simply took things as they came. She had no fear for or of Harry, just pity for whomever would be so stupid as to make an enemy of either Harry or the Spectre.
However, something worried her greatly. She knew. She simply knew about Sirius Black secret, but at the moment, it was as of all her certainty didn't even exist. In normal circumstances, she would have asked. But for some reason, the secret didn't matter, didn't even exist.
She promised to herself the next time she met Sirius Black, she would ask, discreetly of course, about his secret past. Not everyday one had the chance to talk to the legendary Stubby Boardman!
London
Time in a Bottle.
It was unusual for Batman to work during daytime, but he felt it would be best to act early. And anyway, the plan was to get information, not intimidate the locals.
Squire entered first, followed by Batman. They stopped for a moment at the door, ostensibly looking for a table. Batman and the Squire took advantage of the white lenses of their masks to look around.
At the bar, a lonesome figure nodded fractionally. To the locals, he was the mysterious Coffin Dweller, rumored vampire and confirmed spooky figure.
The Squire took a silver bell from a hook, and tapped it twice with a small hammer. "Good afternoon, people! I'm sure everybody recognizes my taciturn friend here," she tilted her head towards Batman, "he will be around town for a while, investigating a case I am very sure has nothing to do with the activities of the unlawful guests of this fine establishment."
A visible wave of relief ran over the tables at the back, barely illuminated by old gaslights. A dinosaur headed man (1) took a cigarette holder off his mouth, and very deliberately shook the ash on a ceramic ashtray. "That's all well and good, child. But are we to… ah… how to put it? Help the world famous Batman solve his case with due alacrity?" A snigger sounded somewhere in the back.
Next to him, a white haired woman arched an eyebrow under the black blindfold covering her eyes. "Death Dinosaur, it wouldn't be the first time we villains cooperate with the heroes to end up a common threat." She turned towards the heroes, "I am assuming you wouldn't be here unless it was something big. Am I right, Batman?"
"It is big, Blind Fury. And it would be in your best interest to help me find my quarry. But no one here is to directly engage him."
She laughed, a shrill sound out of place. "We will need to know more, my dear. After all, if we villains are to put aside our differences with the heroes, outside this place and it's truce; we would certainly like to know why. And it better be a very good reason. Otherwise, we would simply take a few days, manage things discreetly, and wait. We have done so before. Last time we joined forces, it was to solve a problem you haven't." (2)
Batman bristled under his cowl. Death Dinosaur snickered. "A clown without any redeeming grace. Unlike ours, I have to say. Jarvis Poker, have you heard of him? Jarvis Poker, the British Joker?" (3)
"Don't goad our guest, my friend. It's beneath you." Death Dinosaur snorted, but raised his hands in a placating gesture.
The Squire nodded at Blind Fury. "Very well, now that we are in a tentative agreement, let's cut to the point. Batman?"
The dark night detective looked around. "I am looking for a killer." He paused, while half the present looked around, settling on several of the villains. "Not a killer for hire, not exactly a serial killer. It is one with a very specific, yet varied modus operandi. One who can do the impossible happen just by willing it so."
At the back, a customed client, tugged at his collar, and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. He wore an ill-fitting suit, vaguely reminiscent of an stage magician, including the top hat and the handlebar moustache. He looked like a cousin of Zatara. At the bar, Coffin Dweller's ears perked up.
Batman noticed the man, called the Distinguished Gentleman (4) according to the Squire's briefing, but kept silent about it, surely J'Onn had picked up that. "I don't have a description, except that it is a male teenager, probably dressed in green, or green and white. A hood is almost certainly involved."
An old man with dark skin and a turban raised a hand, Rush Hour I (5). "Green and white? Haven't seen such a garb since the War."
Batman's head snapped immediately towards the old man.
The old man continued, "Irish Lass (6)," he said, his eyes misting for a moment. "Green dress, white hooded cloak. A happy gal until her father and brothers died in a Nazi attack. After that, she was always brooding. She died a couple of years after the war ended. I can show you her grave, if you want."
St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries
Room 26
Alastor Moody was beyond angry. He was apoplectic with wrath. Luckily for everybody else, he was very weak; and lacking an eye and a leg, his mobility was limited. His scar covered face was a map of old wounds. However, he was very proud of them. Back when he was a child, he had heard some quote about a god who judged his warriors by their scars, not for their medals, and it had stuck with him ever since.
"Take it easy, Moody. You need to rest." Amelia Bones said with fraying patience.
"Rest? Rest? There has been a Merlin-Damned Death Eater running around with my face for the better part of a year! And I spent that time stunned in my own trunk, and being sheared like a stupid sheep! I don't even know what month we are, much less the day! And you want me to rest? When I put my hands on that scrawny neck of his!"
"Should I stun you? Now, let me speak. As your friend, and Morgana know you have very few of them, Alastor!"
Calling him by his given name was unusual enough to shock him for a moment. "Very well." He exhaled noisily, his empty eye socket barely covered by the ragged remains of his eyelids. "Go ahead. I'm listening."
"We already know who impersonated you. Barty Crouch Junior. The late, Barty Crouch Junior."
"Late, Uh?" A measure of relief crossed his face for a moment. "So he did fake his death, Uh? Must have had some cohorts."
"No, Moody." Director Bones reverted to using his surname. "He's certifiably dead, his body is on a slab at a secret location."
"Who did it? Because I doubt that he slipped in the stairs. That would be too easy."
"If you stay calm, I'll tell you. But the moment you get agitated, I'll stop, call a medí-witch and get you dosed with enough Calming Drought for you to have a vacation in Avalon!"
Moody laced his fingers over his belly. "Go ahead, Amelia. Make my day." (7)
"Very well, this is what I know…"
Hogwarts
Apparation Point
Harry was escorted to Hogwarts by an Auror, and an unseen red-clad ghost. Deadman had had to "grab" to Harry to be able to hitch a ride in the portkey to the castle.
"Hey, Spec," he said as they walked towards the gate, Harry looked at him for a moment, but gave no sign of having heard, just as they had agreed. "I think it might be best If I catch you up later on. I'm not sure if I qualify for ghosthood in this neighborhood, if you get my drift."
Harry scratched his ear twice, meaning he agreed.
Deadman floated around him, legs crossed Indian style. "You go ahead, I'll go in in say, five minutes. If no one can see me, I'll look for you. If they can.. we'll, I always liked the limelight!" He made to crackle his fingers, but there was no sound. "I always forget that…" he shrugged and stopped in midair. He stretched as if he was on a comfortable hammock, and waved Harry goodbye.
Outside Gryffindor Tower
A humble brown owl kept company for a weakened snowy owl.
Hedwig looked up suddenly, her strength returning quickly. Her companion jumped down from the branch they had been sitting on, taking flight. Hedwig followed his example a moment later.
Her partner had come back!
Beating her white wings, she hurried to go to him.
Dumbledore awaited for them at the other side of the gate. He seemed very relieved to see him.
"Harry, my boy; I'm very glad to see you safe and sound. I would like to talk to you immediately." He looked at the young Auror. "In private."
"I have to return to the DMLE, Headmaster. Director Bones thinks there's no danger to Mr. Potter. So I am officially releasing him into your care and custody."
"Thank you Mr. Drakeworth, I'll see to Mr. Potter's safety. And I'm glad to see you are in good health, your sister is well too?"
"Yes, she is, Sir."
The Auror excused himself once Harry was safely within Hogwarts.
Just as he had apparated back to the DMLE offices, a pair of owls, one brown, one white, flew towards Harry Potter.
"Hedwig!" He exclaimed. "I am so happy to see you!" Hedwig settled on his shoulder, nibbling his ear.
The other owl flew around them, and after hooting at Hedwig, flew away. Hedwig took flight after him, but returned a moment later, taking her place back on Harry's shoulder. The boy caressed her white plumage, beaming.
Gringotts
Ragnok allowed himself a sigh of relief once Blood Talon returned to its perch. The most important letter he had ever written safely delivered into its intended recipient. Not that anybody else could have even received it, much less read it.
Still, he knew Gringotts, the Goblin Nation, and himself were still far from a safe vault.
Ragnok made sure his eagle had received water and a live rabbit, Blood Talon preferred to hunt by himself, instead of simply accepting food.
The goblin sat by his desk, and carefully, began the intensive labor of distilling numbers and accounts. The Banshee's vault had been extensively studied by every high rank goblin for almost two millennia. It had been the basis on which Gringotts itself had been built.
It was the only account that was audited every six months. No goblin would dare to even think to skim a single Knut off it. There were some… clients… of the bank that made life difficult to any and all Goblins. Those were, not exactly cheated off, but certainly were charged as much as possible for any service, and were not ever told of any lucrative opportunities that presented themselves. Many were the pauper wizards who could be wealthy, had them been respectful of the Nation.
There was a memory set in a special, executive pensive, that every president, every clan chief, had to watch before ascending to the Gringotts council. It belonged to the legendary Founder, the goblin who had been granted the custody of the Banshee's vault, in thanks for her defense of the last few survivors of her clan.
OneClaw. She had lost her hand, and almost her life, protecting a small group of scared humans.
When the Banshee returned from the dead, she killed her murderers, and would have destroyed every living thing on the island, had it not been for One Claw's courage. Finding her clan had not died tempered the Banshee's rage, so instead of turning the island into a blasted heath (8), she turned her eyes to avenge innocents by killing their murderers in gruesome and painful ways.
She did so for a few decades, until she vanished as water in sand.
One Claw swore her clan would protect her vault until the end of times, preserving it for whomever succeeded her.
But in almost twenty centuries, no one had ever come forth to claim the Banshee's legacy.
Until now.
Hogwarts
Headmaster's Office.
"Lemon drop?"
"No, thank you, Professor." Harry refused corteusly.
"I'd like to talk about what happened when you disappeared." As Dumbledore expected, Harry looked him in the eye at that question.
Silently, he cast Legilimens at the young man, hoping to find out in Harry's memories what had happened with the Death Eaters.
He didn't expect to find himself in the middle of a long road, nor under the cold glare of a man he had known very well, over a decade before.
In front of him stood none other than James Potter, recognizable despite the shadow a green hood projected over his face. His round spectacles seemed to shine in the darkness of his hood.
Author Notes:
I'm trying to use as many DCU established characters as possible, even if they only appeared in a single panel.
(1) Death Dinosaur and Blind Fury, two very idiosyncratic villains from the Knight & Squire miniseries. Visually striking. They are in the "Killers" category, according to Squire. Both debuted in issue 1 of the miniseries.
(2) Meaning, of course, the Joker, who paid a visit to England to confront the gentleman who copied his style. (though the timeline is really off...)
(3) Jarvis Poker was actually closer to Cesar Romero's version of the Joker. All his appearances were in the Knight and the Squire miniseries.
(4) Another character introduced in the K&S miniseries, not much is said of him, apart from the name in an author's note in issue 5. It's not even known if he's a hero or a villain, so I have carte blanche to give him something to do.
(5) Rush Hour is, according to the K&S mini, a legacy hero. There are 3 Rush Hours active; only Rush Hour I is present, his son and granddaughter are occupied at the moment.
(6) This one is mine. With all the wonderfully weird characters DC has in the United Kingdom, I though I could sneak one of my own. And being a big fan of the Legion of Superheroes, I decided on a name in that style.
(7) If there was a Wizard who would like Harry Callahan's style, it would probably be Mad-Eye Moody.
(8) From Shakespeare, though I'm familiar with the line from The Colour Out of Space, by H.P. Lovecraft.