B"SD

Neither Assassin's Creed, nor Harry Potter belong to me.

Chapter Fourteen

At sunset the groups met at the gates of the city where they had entered, laden with goodies and treats of all kinds, which they stowed neatly in Hermione's bag. Ezio seemed lighter somehow, Leonardo mused, but he still couldn't pin the man down. The Assassin avoided his questioning blue eyes. Ezio volunteered to head to the inn first to confirm their reservations.

"What's wrong with him?" Ron snorted, "he hasn't said a word all day."

"He probably just isn't used to shopping trips," Hermione shrugged, "didn't he say he has two brothers?"

"Yeah, wonder what happened," Ron nodded, looking thoughtful, "I mean, think he ran away from home to become an Assassin?"

"I think there's more to it than that…" Harry remarked as the three continued down the soggy Romagna road.

"We're so close to the end now," Desmond sighed, "I'm actually gonna miss this place."

"It's not really goodbye, Desmond," Lucy said warmly, wrapping her arm around the ex-bartender's arm comfortingly, "You'll see him again in the animus."

"He won't see me though…" Desmond said sadly. "Hey, do you think we could tell him? I mean tell him I'll be here, watching his memories?"

"He wouldn't understand, Desmond." Lucy said coldly, her voice emotionless though she laid her head on his shoulder.

"Yeah, the animus is really advanced anyway," Rebecca nodded, "not many people in modern times would believe it was possible."

"'Really advanced'," Shaun repeated mockingly, "what a professional term, 'really advanced'…"

"Shut up, Shaun!" Rebecca laughed and punched the Brit on the shoulder. Shaun smiled despite himself.

As darkness descended upon the walled city the group filed into the small wooden inn, exhausted. Not one of them noticed the glittering eyes that watched them from the shadows.

The sickle moon climbed high in the Italian heavens over the small town, whose inhabitants and visitors slept peacefully, unaware of the danger that was about to befall them.

The nine travelers had once again divided the rooms. In the interest of saving time, they had only rented two large rooms on the upper floor of the dark inn; three women in one room, the men in the room next door. Both rooms boasted feather mattress beds, carpeted floors and wide windows that looked out onto the street. The night was warmer than it had been in recent weeks, with stagnant, humid air stifling the rooms. As the guys had piled into bed, Desmond had thrown open all three windows along the outside wall, desperate for a breeze. Now snores of various pitches and volume filled the air. If anyone had been awake, it would have been impossible for them to get to sleep.

Harry slept badly that night. Voldemort's voice hissed at him, taunting. "Bow to death, Harry." He struggled against invisible bonds, unable to move. More voices came, a cacophony of sound, screaming in his ears. Hermione's voice, Ron's, Ginny. "Harry, save us!" "What are you doing? Why can't you help?" Blood drenched his hands, white hands that clutched a wand. Someone was screaming, writhing at his feet. A surge of power flowed through his arm, through the wand; sickening joy filled him as he watched the victim convulse and twist, screaming in pain. Why couldn't he stop? Why did it feel so good?

A high cold voice whispered into his ear as he watched the figure at his feet writhe. "You're a killer Harry, a murderer". No. He struggled against the voice, against the surge of power in his hand. He had to stop it…Tom Riddle's sixteen year old voice, echoing through a dank chamber: "There are strange likenesses between us, Potter." No, a small weak voice insisted. I'm not like you. I'm not… but then the image before him changed. In shaking, clean hands he held a cup of glitteringly green poison, offering it to a weakened old man, who lay trustingly in his arms. Dumbledore. No, I was ordered to…he asked me to…He fought back against the voice, against the whirl of voices, who were now shouting. The wand was back in his hand, but he pulled against it, shaking with the effort. The flow of power ebbed, the screams died away. All at once, everything went black around him. A woman's face loomed out of the darkness. Its features were gaunt, her eyes hooded and glittering maniacally.

"Boo," Bellatrix said, and Harry shot awake.

He sat up in bed, gasping heavily, his eyes darting to every shadowed corner of the room. The darkness pressed in around him as Harry snatched his glasses and wand from the bedside table. He felt clammy and cold, the heavy sheets soaked in sweat. He pushed back the covers and crept to the window. The moon, which had been obscured by passing clouds, now emerged in the night sky.

Standing at the window sill, still shaking with the memory of that terrible dream, Harry gradually noticed that his scar was aching. It was faint at first, but now that he had noticed, the pain seemed to heighten in its intensity. He closed his eyes, leaning against the smooth wooden wall.

A thump from behind him sent him whirling back around, bringing his wand up.

"Whoa," came Desmond's voice out of the darkness, "It's just me." Harry lowered his wand slowly, too jumpy to be embarrassed about his reaction.

"What are you doing up?" He asked, and as he spoke, he realized that his voice was raspy and hoarse.

"Believe it or not, I'm a light sleeper," Desmond said, not seeing Harry's puzzled look. "That sounded like a wicked nightmare," he added baldly, sounding faintly impressed. Harry felt his face redden. He turned back to the window, not answering. Desmond approached the window as well, leaning his forearms on the open sill. There was a short silence as Desmond watched the stars.

"Wanna talk about it?" He asked, sounding uncomfortable with the idea himself.

"No," Harry said shortly. All he really wanted was to be left alone. His scar throbbed angrily.

"Are you sure because-" Desmond began again reluctantly.

"No," Harry insisted tensely. He moved over to the second window. The moon was partially obscured by one of the city buildings from this view. Determined to avoid Desmond's gaze, Harry stared out into the street, trying to distract himself from the lingering images and voices. A shadow flickered in the alleyway just beyond. Harry frowned. Had he imagined it? He strained his senses. Could that be the rustle of a cloak? Harsh whispers? Or was he just being paranoid?

"Desmond," He said cautiously, "Can you see anyone out there?"

"Course not," Desmond replied. "If you haven't noticed, it's pitch black outside."

"I mean, with your eagle vision," Harry said, shaking his head. "I thought that worked at night…"

"Oh," Desmond said. "Well, I feel stupid." He switched on the vision, and swore loudly. All around them, ranged in a half circle and closing in on the Inn were twenty or so red figures, glowing in the darkness like watch fires.

"We've got company," he said, "I can see at least eighteen- all threats. They seem to be wearing cloaks and robes, not armor." He had barely finished his sentence before Harry was across the room, shaking Ron awake.

"Ron!" He shouted in a hoarse whisper. "Death Eaters." Ron jerked upright, grabbing his wand from a nearby table.

"Do they know we're here?" He asked, adrenaline coursing through his body, leaving no room for tiredness.

"I'd say so," Harry said, moving to wake Ezio. "But they might not know that we know they're here. We may be able to catch them off guard. Leave the lights off and keep it down."

"I'll get Hermione," Ron ran for the adjoining door, before Harry stopped him.

"No," He said, "Send Shaun or Leonardo. I need you at the window." Within a minute, the entire group was awake, clustered into the first room. Harry and Ezio were standing beside one another, facing the other seven.

"Okay," Harry said, "We can turn this ambush back on them. Ezio," he turned to the assassin. "Do you have any weapons that can be used from a distance? Throwing knives? Bow and arrow? Crossbow?" The assassin nodded.

"I have a few knives," he said. He pulled out two from his robes, handing them to Lucy and Rebecca.

"Has anyone else got weapons?" Shaun had a pair of daggers that he had picked up in the market, Desmond a crossbow. Harry directed the two over to first and third windows. They would provide cover from above while he, Ezio, Ron and Hermione would fight the Death Eaters face on in the street.

"When you run out of weapons, duck down and head out." Harry said as Hermione handed out heavy gold coins. "These coins are charmed to pass on messages," He explained. "When we're in position, the coin'll heat up and read, "Fire". Hit as many as you can, and then run for it. Stay out of the path of the lights if they shoot at you. Red is a stunning spell- which will knock you out, Green is the Killing curse- anything they throw at you is going to be nasty." All around the grim faces nodded.

"Let's go then." The four of them ran as quietly as they could to the door, and down the stairs. Desmond stared out at the approaching red figures. They were closer now, close enough to distinguish one from the other. He was mildly surprised to see that the leader was a woman. The others were all burly and tall men, but they clearly feared her, following her every order. He frowned, sensing that this was someone who was dangerous. His fingers tightened on the trigger of his crossbow. Beside him, Rebecca murmured, almost too quietly to be heard, "Here's to things getting worse." The gold coin in his pocket glowed red hot, and he smiled as he shot off the first arrow