Love hugs and chocolate chip cookies to all those lovely readers that are supporting this story. A special thank you to those that take a few minutes to review
Things are really starting to move forward now - and once again the body count is rising. Isn't it Richard Castle that says that there are two kinds of people who sit around thinking about killing people. Serial killers and writers. Despite my husband's concerns, I am still one of the latter! ;)
As always, I regret that I don't own any of the Marvel or Harry Potter characters, and I am doing this solely for my own personal satisfaction.
Merrick x
Diagon Alley was silent when Atticus Jones left the Leaky Cauldron. After their royal highnesses had retired he had sat up late with Shacklebolt and Potter over another bottle of Tom's best red. Now he was beginning to wish that he had taken the floo like Kingsley. He couldn't forget the faces of the two men from earlier today - men he had last seen alive in the bar of the White Wyvern. His nerves were playing tricks on him, suggesting figures lurking in the shadows. Too late, he caught real movement behind him, a glimpse of a face straight out of a nightmare. Ghostly white, expressionless, with round black holes instead of eyes.
An impossibly strong wiry arm around his neck, and a voice hissing in his ear. "The others, they spoke of you when we took them - of how you coveted the casket, and its contents. The casket is OURS mortal.
The Elf sniffed at Jones - making his flesh crawl. "You have never touched it. No matter. Now it is your turn…."
The dim light flashed briefly off a black blade. There was a hideous gurgling shriek and then silence...
ooo0ooo
Hermione was awoken, far too early in her opinion, when someone knocked quietly on the door in the very wee small hours of the morning. She groaned, stretching out some very pleasant aches, thinking ruefully that if she'd known she was going to be woken before dawn she might have made sure that they went to sleep a little earlier. She was reminded of why she was awake when a second knock came…
"Who's there?" At the sound of her voice, Loki, burrowed into his pillow groaning.
"It's Harry, can I come in?"
Loki looked up, scowling. "No. Wait." He paused as a thought crossed his mind …. "Harry - Are you dying?"
"No, but I know…."
Loki flopped back onto his pillow... "Then come back in five minutes." There was such a 'big brotherish' tone to Loki's voice that Hermione couldn't help chuckling.
When the light went on, Hermione could see Loki's point. Not only had neither of them bothered with minor details like pyjamas when they had finally succumbed to exhaustion too few hours ago, but their clothing, strewn across the floor told its own story. Poor Harry would have been mortified. Loki looked blearily at Hermione his hair on end, face creased by the pillow. "Pyjamas or clothes?"
Hermione sighed, she was so tired she could hardly think straight. "Clothes – I doubt we'll be getting much more sleep tonight."
They were lacing up boots when Harry tapped on the door once more, looking irritatingly awake.
"I'm sorry to wake you. But I know where Mundungus Fletcher is hiding." He turned to Hermione. "I can't think why I didn't think of it before. He won't be in the wizarding community at all. He will be hiding with someone the Aurors won't even know of. Someone on the outside.."
Hermione huffed in frustration as the light dawned. "Why did it take us so long... That batty cat lady neighbour of the Dursleys – what was her name?"
"Mrs Figg. He's spent time there before – during the war. I'm certain that will be where he's gone. Are you alright to apparate there?"
Hermione nodded, tiredness fading with their new lead. "Loki, can you stash our bags please, if he's there we need to take him straight to Asgard." She looked at Loki and Harry. "Do we need to let Jones know."
"No" Loki's voice was decisive. "I don't trust him. If we can apprehend this Fletcher, and get him and the Aether into safe custody in Asgard without involving anyone else so much the better."
Harry, having missed much of the previous evening's conversation, looked puzzled, but over the last two years he had learned to trust Loki's instincts when it counted. Closing the door quietly, he slipped down the corridor to collect his bag.
Once Loki had put their bags in his magical hiding place, Hermione grasped his hand, ready to apparate. "I hate having to be the passenger" he grumbled.
His wife's smiled at his grousing. "I know sweetheart, but as Harry and I know where we're going and you don't, you have to admit it makes sense." She turned back to Harry, "Where do you want to meet?"
"Outside the Dursleys. That way we won't scare Dung if he's there. Mrs Figg lives in Wisteria Walk, it's about two minutes walk."
With a crack, all three vanished...
oo0oo
Loki looked around Privet Drive curiously. "So this is where you grew up Harry. It's um ... very tidy.
Harry snorted. "That's about the best thing you can say about it. Welcome to the hell hole where I spent the most miserable years of my life. I hoped I'd never have to see it again. Come on, let's get out of here." He led the way along the street, to a small turning on the left. Almost immediately, Loki tensed beside him.
"It's here. I can feel it."
Mrs Figg's house was easily identifiable as the messiest one on the street. Approaching cautiously they could see that a single light was still burning behind the drawn curtains in the sitting room. There was no sign of any movement. The three crept silently around the house to the back door, which Harry opened with a wordless flick of his wand.
The smell of cats was as disgusting as ever Harry thought as they entered silently through the kitchen, but there was something else beneath the cat, something familiar from his days with the Aurors. He looked up at Loki in wordless concern, but Loki's mind was clearly elsewhere, focused on the Aether. As they moved from the kitchen into the sitting room, the source of the smell was obvious.
The body of Arabella Figg was slumped against the wall. A smear of blood across the wallpaper indicated that she had been thrown across the room with some force. Her cause of death was obvious from the unnatural angle of her head - whoever, or whatever had thrown her had snapped her neck. Harry closed his eyes momentarily. Mrs Figg had been a regular fixture in his life for as far back as he could remember, and on the day that the Dementors had attacked him and Dudley, she had almost certainly saved him. She was undoubtedly a batty old lady, but she didn't deserve to die like this. The fact that the central heating was on made determining the time of death difficult, but she had probably been dead at least 12-18 hours, maybe longer.
They crept quietly past the body, careful not to disturb anything. The sitting room was destroyed. It looked as though there had been some kind of explosion which had probably been what killed Mrs Figg. Hermione clutched silently at Harry and Loki's arms. Following her gaze they knew for certain that they were in the right place.
There on the coffee table was a casket – identical to the drawings on the parchment in Gringotts Bank. They looked at each other. The lid was open.
"Search the house" Loki breathed softly. "But be careful, if Fletcher has absorbed the Aether there is no telling what he is capable of." His face stilled for a moment as he concentrated. "It's definitely still here. I can feel it. Upstairs I think."
Harry put out a hand to stop them. "Wait here..." He reached into his pocket and removed a quantity of fine silvery cloth. Hermione caught her breath, she hadn't seen that cloth since the end of the Wizarding War. Even Loki was visibly startled as Harry vanished before his eyes.
"An impressive device" he murmured, a covetous look in his eye.
Hermione nudged him hard. "Stop it Loki, it was one of the few things Harry had from his father."
Loki shrugged. "Maybe I could borrow it..."
Hermione looked confused. "Loki, since when did you need an invisibility cloak to become invisible?"
Her husband looked shifty. "I don't – but it's cool."
His wife shook her head. "You have definitely been hanging out with Harry too long..."
Soft footsteps were heard on the stairs, as Harry rejoined them. He pushed the hood of the cloak back, leaving his head weirdly suspended in mid air. "Dung is in the front bedroom, hiding in the corner, he looks frightened to death."
"You two stay here" Hermione whispered. "I'll go up"
Loki scowled. "Hermione that is not going to happen. There is no way..."
He was wasting his breath, his wife was already halfway up the stairs. Loki made to follow her, but Harry put a hand on his arm.
"Loki, he knows Hermione, but he won't see her as a threat. He would be frightened to death of you, and the last time I met him I had him pinned to the wall by the throat. She's the best person to go up – trust me. And don't forget, since she married you she's virtually immortal"
Loki's eyes were still fearful, his jaw clenched. "She's as mortal as a well placed knife in the heart. Aesir die Harry – all too often. Hermione needs to remember that too."
Harry gripped Loki's arm. "If you go up there now, you'll frighten him, and that could put Hermione in more danger. Just stay calm. We can be up there in a second if she needs us."
oo0oo
Hermione's first instinct was to creep silently up the stairs, but realised that it may be safer to allow Fletcher to be aware that she was coming.
"Mundungus. It's Hermione Granger. I'm going to come in ok. I'm not going to hurt you."
The bedroom was lit only by the streetlight outside. Fletcher was huddled in the corner, a picture of terror. "Mundungus, it's Hermione, do you remember me? I'm not here to hurt you Mundungus, you're not in any trouble ok. We know that what happened wasn't your fault." Something flickered across his eyes, a darkness which was there, then vanished leaving only Fletcher's frightened gaze. Hermione sat down on the bedroom floor next to him, putting her hand on his arm. Oh yes, it was definitely here, even she could feel it now. Twisted, dark and ancient
"Mundungus, do you know what happened to your friends? To Smith and Llewellyn?" Fletcher shook his head mutely. Hermione took his grubby hand. "I'm sorry Mundungus, I'm afraid they're both dead."
Fletcher's eyes widened even further, and he scrabbled back further into the corner.
"Mundungus, I need you to focus for me ok. Look at me – please. I'm here with Harry – Harry Potter, and my husband. There are some very dangerous people looking for you, and the contents of the box downstairs. You need to come with us now alright. We can take you somewhere safe but you need to trust me. It's a nice place, it's where I live now, and we can make you very comfortable, but you need to come with me now, is that alright?"
Fletcher nodded shakily. Hermione got to her feet and turned to help him up. That weird blackness across his eyes again, coming and going. Whatever the Aether was, it was definitely in there.
When they reached the landing, she called down. "Harry, Loki, we're coming down. Don't crowd us please, poor Mr Fletcher has had a rough day. Loki, could you open the front door please, it's closer than the back and easier to get to" Harry and Loki realised that she didn't want Fletcher to be confronted with the body of Mrs Figg. If she had startled him, if the Aether had felt threatened, he had probably and all unwittingly been the instrument of her death.
Slowly, Hermione and Fletcher came down the stairs. He was an unimposing figure, thought Loki, to have such power in his veins.
Loki and Harry went out first, Harry with his wand drawn, Loki with one hand on the dagger at his waist. Looking back into the house, they could see Hermione briefing Fletcher on what was about to happen.
Harry stopped. "Loki, the casket"
Loki swore under his breath in what Harry was fairly sure was dwarvish, and vanished – reappearing seconds later, the casket in his hands.
"Hermione, are you ready?" At his wife's nod, Loki looked up to call to Heimdall, then stopped, shaking his head. "We can't do this here. If Jones is involved with this, he may recognise the marks left by the Bifrost, and will work out what has happened. I suggest we apparate to the gates of Hogwarts, where the Bifrost imprint is clear already. There's no need to leave a clearer trail than we have to" Harry and Hermione nodded, and the four figures vanished into the darkness.