Wild cards
Chapter 11
…
Harry woke slowly, mind bogged in the hazy fog of sleep, drifting in that place between where dreams and memory are one.
Here, Harry stood facing Dickey and his bat monsters only it was Dickey who was infected by the 'Necro Virus'. And Harry wasn't alone. His Obsidian Gargoyle stood snarling by his side while Harry was ensconced within his Magical Arms.
He felt no fear as he stared down his enemy but a strange sense of wrongness. The zombie boy seemed aware of this as he was taunting Harry.
"You really think you got a chance fancy pants?"
For a second he looked just like the Vicious Taunt goblin then he wasn't.
"I already beat you" Harry replied.
"Think so? Well what about this?" the undead claimed, holding up the mysterious coin.
"What is it?" Harry asked.
"You don't know. And you never will" the necrotic urchin jeered.
"Yes I will" Harry retorted, struggling to free himself from his Magical Arms.
"Never will, never will" Dickey chanted, his bats joining in as Harry continued to struggle.
"Let me go" Harry growled.
"Never will, never will, never will" they chanted, spinning in his vision like a pinwheel.
There was a solid whoomph. Harry fell out of bed, freed from his tangled sheets onto the cold merciless floor. The shock brought him forcefully to full consciousness and he lay there a while, staring at the ceiling, panting from his exertion.
"That was weird" he muttered.
But it did serve to remind him of the days task. He'd asked Tom about his find the previous evening and when he'd shown him the coin the bartender had pointed him to Andrew. Harry found the speed of his reply odd but hadn't pressed him. If Tom said go to Andrew, he'd go to Andrew.
*gurgle*
After breakfast.
Outside the Cauldron a scrawny man with large bony hands was busy wringing them, trying to fend off the morning cold. He'd been observing the entrance to Diagon Alley for almost an hour and was well past being 'just' bored.
He couldn't light his pipe for risk of being seen. He couldn't go inside for risk of alerting his quarry. He'd thought of every possible thing he might do to alleviate his boredom or fend off the cold, and every one of them ended with him getting cursed. So he stood there, wringing his hands and waiting, just waiting.
He made a mental note when a white owl flew out a window, and shortly after his patience was rewarded. A small dark-haired boy in glasses stepped out into Diagon Alley.
He didn't even have to wonder if he had the right person. From his little patch of shadows, he could clearly see the item he'd been sent to retrieve. It was perfect. The kid was an easy mark, wide eyed and innocent.
He crept closer then froze when the boy stopped to scratch his forehead. He was relieved until he saw what had been hidden behind those messy bangs. How could Stanley have been so stupid?
His Harry was Harry Potter. The boy-who-lived, dark lord slayer at one year old, and he had the item. Shit, and double shit, shit my pants. There was no way he was trying to take anything from this kid. He was a thief not a fool.
With the greatest caution he followed the boy. He cursed when he saw him walk into the card shop. If anyone would be able to identify that little trinket it would be Andrew, then they'd never get it back.
There was no choice. He sent off the spell to bring in the muscle and waited, wringing his hands all the while.
…
"Morning Harry."
"Good morning" the boy replied happily.
"Come to throw more money at me?"
Harry chuckled, "Sort of."
He placed the coin on the counter and watched as Andrews expression went completely blank.
"Where did you get this?"
And Harry told him, everything from the over exuberant girl to Dickey the bat boy, even the fate of his poor sweet roll.
"And by the time I got out of there he was long gone."
Andrew had listened intently to the whole story, not so much as blinking. Now he stared at the coin with a stony expression.
"What is it?"
Andrew considered the question, weighing his answer, "An artifact of the D walkers" he said.
"Who're the D walkers?"
"Powerful sorcerers from another world" said Andrew, "they're the ones who created the card magic."
Harry was appropriately awed by this revelation. To think he'd been carrying around something like that.
"There are only ten of these" Andrew continued, "and I know all the people who should have them."
"So, you can get this back to whoever it belongs too?" said Harry hopefully.
Andrew shook his head, "These artifacts are bonded to their owners, passed from master to apprentice. They cannot be lost or taken by force without killing the owner."
"You mean…" he couldn't bring himself to say it.
"Dead" said Andrew bluntly, "for all the good it would have done the fool responsible. They have a powerful curse on them to dissuade that sort of thing."
"So, whoever killed them is dead too?"
"Almost certainly."
"Well that's good" Harry said.
Andrew nodded his agreement, "That begs the question though, where was it going?"
The two gentlemen were given only a moment to ponder this question before the bell chimed and a large group filed in.
"Welcome to Duels, how can I …" the words died in his throat when he got a look at the men arrayed before him.
They were rough looking, all five of them. The biggest one had to have been seven-foot-tall and as solid as any oak tree. On his left was a sharp looking man with a Spanish shade to him, and on 'his' left a psychotic looking fellow with long wavy dark hair.
The two on the right of the big man were standard looking toughs. The bigger one had a shaved head to show off his assortment of scars while the others distinguishing mark was a long thick snake tattoo.
There was a moment of silence, the tension thick.
"Ehem, can I help…" Andrew tried to say.
The psychotic man cut him off with a shrill scream and a violet colored light out of his wand.
Harry had no idea what the light was, but he did have considerable experience with violent people. He dropped to the floor just in time to avoid the spell which shattered the front of the counter.
The big man shouted something Harry couldn't make out which was followed by a barrage of lights. He was both shocked and relieved when they fizzled against a shimmering blue wall that appeared inches from his face.
"Harry! Back here!"
Harry needed no further instruction, scrambling behind the counter as Andrew commanded. There was another barrage of spells just as Harry found cover and the blue wall rippled.
"That is not going to hold" Andrew cursed as he watched the big man approach his shield ward.
"What're we gonna do?" Harry said, fighting back tears.
Andrew looked at the item, still in hand, and then to Harry, "Something dangerous and stupid."
He reached under the counter and turned a piece of white quartz 180 degrees to the left. The stone began to glow just as the big man brought his hands down on the shield. The force of his attack sent massive waves through the shimmering wall.
"Bloody buggering hell" Andrew cursed.
"What now?" Harry shouted.
"Now we get out of here."
Holding the coin in one hand Andrew began making forceful turning gestures over it with the other. For a moment Harry forgot the imminent danger to stare in awe as the symbols began to light and turn.
The moment ended when the wall shattered like cheap glass and they were assaulted by a cacophony of sound. Harry dared to peek over the counter and his eyes nearly popped out of his head.
The five wizards were being assailed by a menagerie of small creatures. Some of which Harry recognized, like the Gopher Soldier bravely assailing the Spaniard.
"Time to go."
Before he could register the words, he was grabbed by the collar and flung through space. The sudden rush of heat stole his breath and he lay on the ground wheezing as his lungs tried to adjust to the sudden rise in temperature. He made the mistake of opening his eyes and nearly choked.
He'd heard of Hell before. The Dursley's weren't religious people but it was the proper thing to do so they'd gone and since they didn't trust him in the house alone, he'd gone too. The minister had spoken with great passion on sin and punishment and Uncle Vernon made sure Harry understood that sermon was for him.
Harry remembered. The lakes of fire. The reek of sulfur and brimstone.
"Harry, you alright?" Andrew asked coughing.
"Andrew, what happened?"
"This must have been the last place it was used" he said, glancing around at the stalactites and stalagmites sticking out like vicious teeth in the glow of the great rivers of magma.
"Are we in Hell?"
"Hmm, oh no, no, nothing so dramatic as that" said Andrew casually, "this is just the infernal realm, that's all."
"Oh" said Harry, "is that all?" and he did his best not to pass out.