Well, the last chapter of 2022 is here! I just wanted to wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. See you soon!
Chapter 36 - Through thick and thin
The gnome squeaked as Ginny threw it across the crops. It was the first time she took care of such a task, but it was the perfect way to vent her frustrations; which was not a small feat. Her hand stung as if lemon juice had been poured all over the thin cut; those little bastards had sharper teeth than what she first thought. It was no mystery her brothers hated this task so much.
Her mother had looked at her with surprised eyes as soon as Ginny had proposed herself to clean the garden from the gnomes. Still, she had nodded in response; though a bit unsure. Another of those hellish devils tried to run away from her, but the girl was way faster, and quick of hands, too. Another one bites the dust, Ginny thought as the gnome was sent flying across the fence. It wasn't the same as throwing a quaffle, but quite similar nevertheless. Oh, if only she could mount a broom and fly as far and high as the winds could take her! That was all she needed, to not see her family's faces. Because, how was she supposed to look at them when they ignored what kind of monster she was? Especially, how could she look at Ron eye to eye?
Ginny wanted to forget Tom and the Chamber, of course, but her mind could not pass onto the next page yet. There still were many answerless questions, and she yearned to know them. How and when did the diary fall into her hands? Why her? Because she was a Weasley, or because she was some silly girl? Clearly, Tom had shown a lot of interest about Harry the moment Ginny mentioned him and his story. Perhaps, was that the reason why the diary had ended in Ron's hands? That was another memory she could not remember as well as she wished.
As Ginny's eyes got lost into the sunny horizon, a pair of gnomes ran past her; their acute, mocking laughter became all she could hear. Tom had also laughed at her many times.
With some drowned shout of rage, Ginny just kneeled on the grassy ground and punched it as many times as necessary until it felt good enough. Her left hand now bleeded, and it hurt like hell, but she also felt way more at ease. Weasleys were proud and fair, and although she wanted, needed, to get those answers she seeked, Ginny could not allow Tom's ghost to torment her for much longer. Like Charlie once told her, sometimes it was better to just let out all those bad emotions so one could smile again. Otherwise, the others would start to worry, and that was the last thing Ginny wanted.
What has been done cannot be changed, Ginny thought—Charlie had also told her that. According to him, there was no point in thinking too much about depressive matters when one could mount a broom and plough through the skies to forget all those problems.
And to honour him, like some sort of joke, someone spoke right behind her. "Do you fancy some flying, Gin?" Ron suddenly said. When she turned around, rather surprised, the girl found his brother, wearing some of Percy's old clothes, with a pair of brooms on one hand and a quaffle in the other, and with a tentative smile on his face. The two brooms were splintered in many points and in need of a new layer of paint, while the quaffle was dirty and with some holes on it.
Yet to Ginny they looked as good as some brand new equipment. "Let's go," she just replied. Ginny tried to hide her hand on the pocket of her new shorts, but Ron caught her with the corner of his eyes. Still, much to her surprise, he said nothing and tossed the not-so old broom at her. "Is mum okay with this? You know she doesn't like me flying around. At least, if Charlie isn't around to watch over me." Obviously, Molly didn't know her daughter felt as comfortable in the air as she felt on her feet; and needless to say that it would remain a secret for the near future.
Ron led the way out of The Burrow, towards some adjoining hill, but crooked his head a bit to smirk at her. "If there was something I learned at Hogwarts, it's the fact that if she doesn't know about it, she can't be mad at us. This will be our little secret, okay? Just like when we were little."
Simpler times those had been, indeed—times she had abhorred because of how much she desired to attend Hogwarts. Needless was to say how much of a fiasco her first year had been. By the time she realised, Ron was already mounted atop of his broom, flying a few metres above the ground, where she was left standing like some silly girl. The high grass of the hill crown tickled her skin all the way to her knees.
Ginny just shook her head and hopped onto her broom; in no time at all, she flew past her brother, quicker and more confident. To her ears reached Ron's exasperated huff, and it only increased her smirk. Today, the wind was soft and warm; a perfect day to fly. A few flock of birds could be observed at the far horizon of the cloudless sky. She stopped about fifty metres over the ground and a few more hills towards the south, where their mother's curious eyes would never catch them.
Ron didn't take long to reach her position; he shared her slightly better mood. With one hand, he held the quaffle, that reddish, old ball of raspy leather. "Do you remember the old game we used to play?" He asked.
"Of course."
Without any further words, he just tossed the quaffle at her. Even though there was no wind, it went a bit to the left, but Ginny just swerved the broom and extended her arm; the quaffle fit perfectly, as if done tailor-made. "That was quite easy," she pointed out. This was the game of catch and tell; there were not supposed to be easy balls here. "Say, do you feel angry at me? I… I would understand it." Ginny did not know with certainty if her brother was aware of how important her role had been in the opening of the Chamber, but Tom had shown interest in him, and she had a very bad feeling about it. That was a good question to test the waters.
Ron huffed in response, quite annoyed, enough to curve his brow; a habit he had developed as a toddler, and a habit which, probably, only she and their mother were aware of. "No, I don't. It wasn't your fault." Ron knew, she realised as a cold shiver went down her spine, like some icy arrow.
This time, it was her turn to throw the quaffle. It fell right on his hand; a perfect throw. "You met Tom, didn't you?" That was more of an affirmation, but it was all she wanted to know. In fact, Ginny had broken the game's main rule, for she had asked another question when it was her turn to answer.
Ron did not seem to care about that detail. "I met him, indeed, but he's long gone. Of that, I am a hundred percent sure. He won't torment us no more, Ginny."
A wave of relief fell all over her; a short one, though. Tom might be gone, but her sins could not be erased so easily. Ginny would have to learn to live with them, and, at some point in the future, she would need to pay what she owed to the victims of the Heir. After all, Weasleys were fair and just.
"Albus Dumbledore destroyed the diary, and Tom died with it," Ron went on. His words rose over the soft wind, and despite not shouting, Ginny heard them with ease. "He was nothing but a memory trapped in that bloody diary. A memory the Heir of Slytherin left behind so his legacy and most important secret could not be forgotten." He threw the quaffle at her; another perfect throw. It was almost funny to see how much they were mocking the game they once created; the throws were supposed to be hard to catch—secrets were a very personal thing, after all. "Do you suspect who gave it to you?"
"I have no bloody idea." The quaffle went back at him. "Do you?"
"Same goes here."
Silence fell all over them, but, for the first time in months, Ginny found it relaxing. If Tom was gone, silence couldn't be broken by his silky voice, by his sweet promises and kind words. He had used her flaws to manipulate her. Ginny Weasley had wanted to shine over the rest of the students, and Tom had given her the tools. Like that time, at the Duelling Club, when she humiliated Alaine Baldwin, the most brilliant of the first years students, with all the knowledge and experience he provided her with. However, even if those sins could not be erased, they certainly could be buried under the weight of good deeds. She started to believe light could be found at the end of the gallery. "Did he make you do evil deeds?" However, there still was far too much darkness in that path. "Did he use you?"
The quaffle was not going from one hand to another. This wasn't a game anymore. It was a heart-to-heart talk; it needed no silly game to cover what it really meant to them.
"He did, and far worse than you," Ron replied with some mirthless smile. "After all, I was the one to attack Harry, Hermione and Penelope Cleanwater."
Ginny couldn't suppress the horrorized gasp that came out of her. Though it was quickly buried under a wave of guilt. True enough, Ron's sins were worse than hers, but it was all her fault. How could he even look at her? He must have felt revulsed at his sister—he needed to feel revulsion at her! How could he even look at Harry and Hermione eye to eye? Couldn't guilt drown him?
Ginny just voiced out those questions, even if she regretted the decision a second after taking it.
Much to her surprise, it made him laugh; coldly yet not mockingly. "Because I just cannot let him win," Ron snorted. "I hate that bastard with all my soul, and he certainly loved tormenting me. Say, now that he's been defeated, now that he will be forgotten by everyone but us, why would I give him that privilege? I don't want him to live rent-free in my head forever—all I want is to forget him and the damage he caused to me, and, most importantly, to you. I'm not gonna lie here, at first, I hated myself with all my might, and even more, I hated Tom so much that I wanted to bring him back so I could hex him into oblivion with the nastiest spells I know. But then I had a chat with Harry and Hermione. I told them everything, and they almost smacked the hell out of me. How could I be so stupid, they shouted at me. How could I think they were gonna hate me? Then I realised there only was one culprit: that bastard of Tom. I will never allow anyone else to control me, to make me hurt those who I love, and to make that true, I need to pass this sombre page of my life."
Suddenly, he stopped talking as his eyes were set on the endless, blue sky past her. "I don't detest you, Ginny, so forget all that crap at this very moment. I love you. Hell, I'd only say that I felt disappointed because you didn't trust me enough to let me know about Tom the moment you knew something was off, but, again, so it happened to me. Family sticks together through thick and thin; now more than ever. So, as I will try to do, let's hate that bastard together, though we cannot allow for that loath to eat us away. Let's enjoy life and have fun like we used to do, that will irk Tom like nothing else. After all, to live in other's memories is all he does well."
To forget about Tom? That was a far too beautiful thing to be possible. Maybe, some day in the future, it could become true. However, what she did to Justin and Colin was a weight heavy enough to sink her until she could make it up to them. "I can only promise you one thing, Ron," Ginny ended up saying. "That I'm gonna try to get out of this hole. However, I need you to do something for me." Without hesitation, Ron nodded his head in agreement. "Please, just don't tell anyone about my involvement. I need time to think and cope with all I did, and once I can say that it is a thing of the past, you'll be the first person who I will smile at."
"Take as long as you need, Gin," Ron said. "I will be there for you, and so will be the rest of the family if you ever decide to tell them about it. We, Weasleys, must stick together."
All the tears her eyes had gathered during the conversation finally fell down her cheeks. She had learnt from her many brothers that crying was something which couldn't be done in front of others; she had seen them gulp their tears time after time, just as many as she had imitated them. Yet this time Ginny did not care the slightest—it just felt good to let them flow down. She leaned onto the broom, slowly gliding towards her brother, just to hug him as strongly as she could. "Thank you, really." Then she flew away as fast as the broom allowed her.
As Ginny went down, Ron could do nothing but stare at her. Their talk had gone much better than he first thought it would; the words had flowed out of him with ease. Still, it felt bad lying to his own sister; or, at least, to not tell her the full truth, which was a very different thing. One day, I will tell her everything, and the same goes for mum and dad. That thought took a bit of pressure off his shoulders.
"We do what we must, no matter how much it does sicken us," Gerdnyaram said, still floating by her side, as she had done during the entire conversation. It had been hers the idea to not tell Ginny about Voldemort, and Ron had instantly agreed. "One day, we will look back and cherish all the decisions we made."
Ron just huffed in response as he began the descent. "I've heard those words plenty of times. Maybe, just as many as I've told them myself. I do not care anymore, Gerdnyaram, I just want to not fail again."
Seated on his chair of high back, Albus Dumbledore took his time to finish the letter he was writing, and meanwhile, across the table of the Headmaster's office, a long wooden plank with countless documents and artefacts on it, Severus Snape just stared at him with dead eyes. No matter the circumstances, this old man always found a way to irk him.
For the second year in a row, Hogwarts had been saved by a group of nosey students; a mix between some stupid bunch of Gryffindors, and a bunch of even stupider Slytherins. Hell, to think a brilliant boy like Daniel Williams would go so far to save the school had left him speechless. Still, it had been the Professors' incompetence, he and Albus included, which had made them cross the point of no return. It was a miracle that just two fingers and some months of life were all it had cost them.
Severus sent another look at the black diary which rested atop of the large, wooden desk. A Horcrux, the source of his new nightmares. It was long ago when he first heard about those abominations of nature, and though it was later when he found out how the Dark Lord could have survived death, none of those revelations could compare to seeing that evil in front of him. Of course, one revelation always brought a hundred new questions with it. How did that cursed item fall into Lucius' hands? Perhaps, it was the work of Peter and that man by the name of Ashram; plausible, yet not by much. Those two were on the run, and Peter was the most searched man in the country, with a reward for his head that would make the most loyal of his friends sell him without a second thought. Besides that, Lucius held no love for Peter, and it probably went the other way around.
No, it needed to be anyone else. Maybe, was it given to Lucius by the Dark Lord himself when he was one of his most trusted soldiers? Indeed, that made more sense. Only Bellatrix had risen higher than Lucius in Voldemort's ranks. And that conclusion had led Severus to a very interesting observation—it was obvious that Lucius had not been aware of how important the diary had been. Otherwise, even if the thought of the Dark Lord being, somehow, alive had not crossed his mind, he would have never taken that decision.
Fawkes croaked, and Albus hummed in response as his quill scratched the paper. It brought Severus back to reality; and his bad mood came with him. "We cannot fix the consequences of our incompetence anymore," the young Professor practically growled. The little phoenix, which had just been reborn a few weeks ago, turned his reddish, featherless head to look at him with curious eyes. On the contrary, Albus just ignored him. "We crossed a line, and that bastard of Fudge is gonna make the best of it. Merlin knows this is his last chance." To think the Ministry would send such a hellish witch to supervise them horrorized Severus. How could they even think that he would bow to a witch like Dolores Umbridge? Madness; it was the only word that could describe the situation.
"Oh, don't tell me that you are worried about the students' education?" Albus said, yet he still refused to raise his eyes from the letter. "I'm sure they will overcome every obstacle thrown in their way. Hogwarts is home to those who seek knowledge and good companions."
At that moment, Severus reached his limit. His fist impacted against the table, soundly and strongly; an ink jar was sent to the floor, and the sound of crackling glass filled the silence of the room; some weird instruments were activated and threw colourful sparks into the air. "This ain't no joke!" How could this man be so nonchalant about it all? The Minister, spurred by that bastard of Lucius Malfoy, wanted to take away their freedom—they wanted to keep an eye on them for every damned hour of the day. "Peter and Ashram are still on the run, and only Merlin knows if they have already found Voldemort. The newspapers spit venomous words into the ears of the country's citizens, and some of them had already been poisoned. And, if that was not enough, that bloody fool of Cornelius Fudge has now become your worst enemy! We have always known he was a useless bastard, but, oh, put a rope around a coward's neck and you will be stunned to see how hard he fights to stay alive!"
Finally, Albus put the quill away from the parchment and raised his eyes to meet Severus'. There was no trace of exhaustion in those blue irises; just a cold determination. "Cornelius' formal proposal has already been accepted by the Wizengamot, thus there is nothing we can do about it. Now, about the first point you brought up, I plan to take the matter into my own hands. Last winter, it was you who went in their search, only to find a much bigger problem than the one we expected. You will play your own role in this, of course, but I will be the one to hunt them down. In fact, there are two men who I want you to pay a visit to. The first one is Quirinus, to see if he's gotten any better, and the second is Gilderoy Lockhart, to make sure he does not talk more than he should. I believe both of them are still in the Intensive Care Unit of St Mungos."
Seems like I'm an errand boy once again. Still, Severus did not care this time—Quirinus Quirrell was a dead man alive, but Lockhart could cause them far too many problems. That imposter had seen Ginevra Weasley possessed by the diary. If he held any memories from that night… Well, there were things which were not meant to ever come out to the light.
With a last nod of his head, Severus stood up and walked towards the exit. Fawkes observed him all the way, and only after the staircase's door was left closed behind him, that sensation disappeared. Phoenix were very intelligent creatures, so it must have felt something about what Severus was about to do. Not as if it mattered, though, for Albus also knew what was the only way forward. If he had any complaints after the job was done, he should have taken care of the matter himself.
The young Professor only made a brief stop at his office. This needed to be a traceless act.
At the entrance of some wide cave, lost in the middle of the Polish steppe, Levitt questioned himself for the tenth time in the past hour. What was the point of this? A trial, really? Had it not been enough to be measured by a dozen top-tier Hunters? Had they not realised his skills were far superior to theirs? It must have been so, because he had even been denied his request to meet with lord Kovanen in person.
Behind him, still ascending through the rocky hillside, a Hunter who went by the name of Gerard groaned in exasperation. This man, some tall, bald wizard from England, was supposed to be a mid-tier Hunter; and also, his supervisor. To Levitt, he looked to be the kind of man whose skills surpassed his raw magical prowess; just like it happened to the former mercenary, though on a much lower scale. In theory, from what little he knew about the Hunter, he also was a survivor of the war.
"I know you don't like this, but it is how things are done in the Union," Gerard sighed, still a few steps behind Levitt. "True enough, we need new recruits, now more than ever. However, they need to be measured so we can trust them. Heed my words, I've seen very powerful wizards who could not slay a beast any low-tier Hunter would have handled without much trouble. Here, brains and experience are more important than any spell or curse."
The man had a point, though Levitt could not care less about it. His people needed this transaction, from mercenaries to members of the Hunter's Union, and they needed it fast. The sooner they were under lord Kovanen's protection, the better. "That's the sole reason why I agreed," Levitt said, instead. "You gave me your conditions, and I accepted them. So here I am, waiting for you to tell me where the hell this so-called beast is so I can get the work done as fast as possible."
"You ought to be careful here," the Hunter replied with a scowl on his face. "I have faced one of its kind before, accompanied by two other incredible wizards, and it still managed to kill one of us. Moreover, if what I've heard it's true, this is a larger example than the one I faced. We call them Men's Bane for a reason."
Levitt just huffed in response. "I will slay it. Unfortunately, I am different from you and your pals." The Hunter did not know that, no matter how awful the odds were, Levitt was cursed to survive and to see how his loved ones fell. It had already happened far too many times to count them—far too many names, though he remembered them all. Very subtly, Levitt looked down at his left arm. Under his thin, black robes, his entire forearm, a mass of burned flesh and muscle, was covered by bandages. A wound courtesy of Ludwig Larsson, the only man who almost killed him—the only battle he could not win. However, not even Stormspear had been able to make him taste defeat.
For a few seconds, Gerard seemed to analyse the words; his furrowed brow increased as he could not detect any mock in them. Then he just shook his head and forgot the matter. "I do not want you to slay this Men's Bane. I want you to capture it."
That caught Levitt's attention. From what he had been told many times, Hunters were not supposed to spare the life of such a dangerous beast, and much less of one that had already taken the lives of three Aurors and two civilians.
Gerard read the doubt his eyes expressed, so he provided the former mercenary with answers. "We've only encountered three Men's Bane, and, due to one reason or another, we ended up killing them. Still, they killed more Hunters than any other creature this year. Lord Kovanen is furious, and also worried, so he gave lady Lozen the order to capture one alive. I don't know how or why the plan did deviate from that original idea, but you came to us, backed up by the most illustrious words of greatness I've ever heard, from Mikko Kovanen's mouth, no less, and then I was given orders to help and guide you in this important task."
Those new orders would make the mission far harder, indeed. A soft streak of wind ruffled Levitt's black hair away from his forehead as he turned around to look at the cave's entrance. "Whatever. Let's get it done before night comes." There still were a few hours left of sunlight, but he wanted to be back at Blackdusk as soon as possible.
Men's Bane, a beast which could withstand as many spells as a mountain of solid rock could; which could infest corpses and living bodies with the milky-white worms it breed; with claws and teeth sharp enough to tear apart hardened steel; and with the strength needed to pull thick oaks from its very roots. There was once when Levitt used to face the most menacing of the creatures so he could gain one more week of life, when he was a slave in The Tartarus, but none of those he had killed could compare to these so-called Men's Bane.
All around the globe, far too many things were changing. And not for the better.
The entrance to the cave was a large hole in a tall mountain of grey rock which welcomed them into total darkness. The sun shone atop of the sky, only a few of its rays covered by the clouds, yet none ventured inside the large gallery. Nothing could be felt from inside; a normal thing, having in mind that a Men's Bane was a very rare creature. So be it, Levitt thought as he pointed his wand at the entrance. "Fumos." A dense cloud of black smoke was born out of the tip, while, with his free hand, the right one, conjured a very soft streak of wind.
Bit by bit, the smoke got into the cave, and the process did not stop for a few minutes. Under the watchful eyes of Gerard, who had taken a few steps back, Levitt tried to feel as much as the spell could tell him. The smoke made contact with the walls, the ground and the ceiling, but no valuable information could be taken from it. There wasn't a single magical presence there. The cave expanded to every direction through long galleries; some thin enough for a rat to seep through, and others large enough for an entire garrison of men to walk across. Yet there was no trace of that damned beast.
"So be it," Levitt growled. He sent a backwards glance at the Hunter, who just raised a brow at him. "Step back as far as you can, and be ready for the worst. I'm gonna make that beast come out one way or another." Time was of essence here—no more of his comrades' lives would be put to waste.
Levitt put all his focus into feeling the dense smoke, every millilitre of it, every centimetre of rock it touched, and then he just set it ablaze. It combusted as a cramp went through his fingers to his shoulders. Inside the cave, echoes of explosions could be heard. Then, with a loud roar, like that of a dragon, fire and debris alike came out of the previously ever-darkened hole.
Gerard let out a loud curse, surprised, but he was even faster than Levitt to shield them from the fire and the debris; though his shield, a faint, white barrier of magic, did nothing about the abrasive heat that came at them. On his behalf, Levitt just created a far stronger and wider shield, and placed it around the cave's entrance, like a protective bubble. Fire was contained, while the rocks and the debris were turned into dust at the slightest contact.
This wasn't his style, far too loud and direct, with so much magic wasted, but it was a decision spurred by impatience. Though it worked, for a furious roar could be heard amidst that storm of fire and rocks.
However, all his plans went to hell the moment a huge beast stormed out of the cave.
Larger than four rhinoceros combined, probably, enough to surpass the six metre tall when up on its legs, and with fur paler than snow, the beast resembled a mighty and enormous polar bear. Only that its head was that of a spider and there were four arms coming from each side of its body; it used them all to move, but its guts told him that it could do many other things with them. By sheer instinct, under the watchful eyes of the creature, Levitt took a few steps back. Its fur was darkened in many points; burn marks, courtesy of his spell. Still, it seemed to move in waves with each breath.
Gerard, wand in hand and now by his side, spoke to him. "Be careful, he can rocket knife-like needles from its fur; that's its only long-range attack. Apart from that, it is incredibly resistant against magic and physical hits. Shit, this one is far larger than the one I faced—I don't even want to think about how tough this is gonna be."
The Hunter was about to tell him something else, but Levitt just snapped out of it. At that moment, the Men's Bane was just another obstacle in his way; nothing else. Levitt just charged forward, and time itself seemed to stop. The creature looked stunned for a second, and Gerard's shouts were quickly drowned. Maybe, it was him entering the zone. It did not matter. The wand danced in his hand, and ten rings of solid light were formed around the Men's Bane. With a circular flick, they closed onto it, strongly, enough to lacerate its skin, which bleed a dense, dark fluid.
Its skin is tough, but not enough to stop my spells. Levitt ran forward, and just when he was about twenty metres short from the Men's Bane, it rose over its two legs and used the other six arms to grab the light rings. Firstly, they splintered, golden sparks flying everywhere, and then they broke for good. There were four still to break, and so Levitt did not falter in his sprint. However, the creature just mirrored his charge and launched itself forward with a powerful jump. It came so fast that only his allomantic powers allowed him to anticipate it. "Repulso!" Wand pointed at the ground, Levitt rose in the air to barely dodge the charge.
From there, he observed how the creature's charge continued, towards Gerard. The Hunter didn't allow fear to take over his mind, and just placed both of his hands over the ground. A wave of magic came from him, and the earth rose like a solid wall just when the Men's Bane was about to tear him apart. The spell elevated the creature, yet it didn't cause him any damage, for it didn't even shout in pain nor rage. As he fell, Levitt used that moment of peace to propel himself forward by conjuring a powerful wind streak. Once his sword was unsheathed and wielded in his hand, he just thrust it into the creature's first arm joint. The sword went upwards in a swift arc, now coated in dark blood, as one of the eight arms was severed.
He jumped away at the same time the Men's Bane turned around, its two dark eyes so emotionless they resembled endless pits. Its claws came, but it scratched the empty air. In response, Levitt just exploded the remaining light rings. Under a dense cloud of dust, the creature was left hidden, and Levitt understood he had committed a mistake just in time. Silent like the natural predator it was, the Men's Bane charged at Levitt with claws and fangs upfront.
He had just one way to go, and it was forward.
Seven arms were not enough to tear him apart as he slithered through them like a snake—at moments like this one, he was grateful for all the near-death experiences he went through at The Tartarus. By sword fell two more limbs, and his wand did the same with another one thanks to a nice-timed Severing Charm. Levitt fought, no, he danced around the magical creature as its teeth and claws could not scratch his body. This was the death dance itself.
The cloud of smoke had already been dissipated by Gerard, who supported him from afar; stunner after stunner, among many other curses of different nature, they all rained down from his wand. Did he still want Levitt to capture the beast? Then it better be able to withstand the bleed out. When the former mercenary jumped away, in need of taking another vial of tin and pewter, and also a moment of rest to breathe, he took his time to observe how the Men's Bane had trouble standing up. On its left side, only the leg had been left unsevered, while on the right, three limbs tried to equilibrate it.
And yet, despite the huge pool of dense blood around it, and despite the many stumps which added more and more blood puddles, like grains of sand falling down an hourglass, the Men's Bane looked to be pretty fine given the circumstances. Its eyes were still fixated on Levitt, with that predatory gleam on them, and it still moved in circles, watchful of every threat. The pincers of its spider head moved furiously, oozing some kind of milky-white fluid, while its fur… Suddenly, a rain of white spikes launched from it. "Protego Maxima," Levitt just whispered. All the furry projectiles were turned into dust against his shield. With a flick of his wand, the shield was sent forward, at the Men's Bane, and it closed around the huge beast.
It only had one ace in the hole left, and Levitt waited for it.
As he kept fuelling the shield, he started to manipulate the earth with his free hand, the sword already sheathed on his back. Solid rock rose from the ground, and it got thinner and thinner until it turned into countless rock shackles. They danced around the shield, slowly going through it and coiling themselves around the Men's Bane remaining limbs, head and body. Levitt put all his focus into the task, for he needed perfection to submit such a mighty creature.
It left his back unprotected, and the moment he had been waiting for finally came.
Those hellish worms came from the ground, breaking through it like white arrows, yet they all exploded in a rain of flames before they could cause any harm to him. At the other end of the battlefield, Gerard stood with his wand at hand, pointed at Levitt, as multiple trails of blue flames orbited around the former mercenary. Indeed, the Hunter had turned out to be quite a capable wizard; and also, he was quite good at working with others.
With a gesture of Levitt's hands, the rock chains, already embedded into the creature's body, flew away from it; some affixed to the thickest trees around the battlefield, while others did to the ground, and only a few of them went into the cave. With another pull, they tightened, and the Men's Bane roared in agony; its once white fur was so covered in blood that red looked to be the original colour, though a few white spots could still be seen.
"Call the extraction team," Levitt said as he took a seat on the ground, his legs crossed and eyes still fixated on the beast. It might have been captured, but not defeated, for he did not know enough about it to assume such a bold affirmation. "As long as I do not let my guard down, it will not escape. However, as confident as I am in my skills, time is of essence here if we want to reduce the risk. Come on, do it. I'll keep it contained."
Gerard keenly looked at the former mercenary, though his wand was pointed to the sky; it emitted a bright flare of a green colour which ascended like a colourful spear. "Mikko Kovanen did not lie when he talked about your skills. I have never seen something like that. Your fighting style is very unique, and also very effective against magical creatures. If I had not known your background, I would have thought of you to be a seasoned Hunter." His eyes went to the Men's Bane, which still tried to fight his way out of Levitt's shackles, weakly but persistently. "I fought one of these monsters alongside two pals of mine, yet it was lady Lozen, the North Guardian, who finished it. The other person to kill one of them was Shane, the West Guardian, who did it twice."
"Where do you wanna get?" Levitt cut in, quite impatient.
"That you ain't no ordinary wizard, Levitt the mercenary." He had heard those words a hundred times, and they still annoyed him like they did the very first time. Yet, like always, he said nothing, for he knew they spoke no lies.
A tense silence enveloped them as they waited for the extraction team to come; it was only interrupted by the weak growls of the Men's Bane. At some point of the wait, as the sun went down, trying to hide itself behind some far mountains, Gerard pulled out a box of cigarettes from his robes. The Hunter offered one to Levitt, who refused it with a shake of his head; as soon as it was lit, its stinky smell filled the place.
From time to time, the Men's Bane seemed to recover a bit of strength and tried to pull from its shackles. Every time it happened, Levitt just sent a powerful electric shock at the creature, and then he would reinforce the rock chains. Finally, when the moon was about to set itself atop of the dark sky, a dozen brooms descended from it. However, there were only two people mounted atop of them: some low-tier Hunter who followed Gerard's orders, whose name Levitt had not bothered to ask about, and Ashley, one of the very few people Levitt trusted in this world.
"Leader!" The short woman greeted him as soon as her feet touched solid ground. Like always, her brown hair was styled in a very messy ponytail, with countless strands of hair out of it, as if she didn't even have time to take care of her physical appearance. Though what surprised him was the fact she still wore the Wings of Liberty's green cloak over her brown robes. "We would have arrived sooner, but this man here wasted so much time in bureaucratic shite! He said his superiors needed to be informed about the mission's success! Can you believe it?"
Levitt completely ignored her rant. "The knife, did you bring it with you?"
"Of course I did bring it with me!" Ashley huffed in response, quite indignant. From her robes, very cautiously, a long, silver knife was pulled out. By itself, it was a very ordinary weapon, yet when looked carefully, one could see that its edge emitted a violet gleam. "Michael says that he applied the most potent somniferous he could create with the little time he had to find the ingredients. Oh, he also told me to remind you that this is no cheap creation; you know how he is with money. Anyhow, this should work."
"Just prepare the extraction," Levitt said aloud. As it usually happened, everyone seemed to obey his orders without any objection. On his part, he just walked towards the Men's Bane, slowly but surely, in order to not cause more stress to it. Who knew how this beast could react when put against the ropes? He stopped about ten metres from it, when its dark eyes were set on him. It tried to pull from the chains, but they were so tense no result was obtained. With a quick motion, Levitt just threw the knife, which sunk into its left shoulder.
Much to his surprise—and to Michael's credit—the Men's Bane did not even have time to roar in pain before its eyes closed and its head fell. A slow, rhythmic breathing was all it could be heard. To Gerard's command, a thick light cord, of a golden colour, was born out of each of the twelve brooms. Eight of them knotted themselves around each arm or stump; one, the brighter and thicker, did it around the beast's neck; while the last three did it around the body. In no time at all, the four of them ploughed through the skies with the motionless body of a Men's Bane under them.
"Did you set the stealth charms and wards, Kevin?" Gerard asked his fellow Hunter, a tall, pale man of few words who looked at the former mercenaries with clear mistrust.
"I did as you ordered, sir."
Levitt just closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the fresh air. After today's job, lord Kovanen would accept them in the Union, and although it was a very dangerous profession itself, it would grant them protection from those people of their past life who wanted to hurt them. Meanwhile, he would wait for Michael to find Jordan's whereabouts. It did not sound like a very bad plan at all, which was pretty good for a change.
However, the day was not over, and it only took a few words to remind him that life was not a beautiful thing one could enjoy.
"Not gonna lie, I would have pissed my pants had I encountered this beast," Ashley began, emitting a loud whistle as she observed the Men's Bane. "I mean, eight arms, or legs, whatever you may prefer; a spider head; that white, sharp fur; oh, and we can't forget about those hellish worms! Indeed, this creature must have been born out of the nightmares of a very sick bastard!"
"You don't have to tell me about it," Gerard grunted in response. "If it wasn't because Levitt took out half of his limbs in less than thirty seconds, the battle would have been very, very different. I swear he did the impossible."
Ashley was about to answer back, but she suddenly closed her mouth as the colour was drained from her face. "If so… Why am I counting four arms on each side? D-Do I need to have my vision checked?"
Levitt's neck turned down with the speed of an arrow. And what he saw almost made him fall from the broom. What minutes ago had been four bloody stumps, now were replaced by four limbs of pure muscle covered by thick, white fur. No one emitted a word as he jumped down, towards the beast. It was a soft landing, unlike the kick he delivered on the knife, which sank even more into the creature's flesh. Fortunately, it didn't move nor emitted a sound.
"You three keep the eyes on the sky, and I will ensure that this bastard doesn't wake up." Levitt took a seat, with his legs crossed, atop the back of the Men's Bane. His wand felt warm at touch, ready for the worst possible scenario. Three pairs of eyes observed him with shocked expressions; or perhaps, they observed the creature below him. "This shit ain't natural, and neither is it a business of mine. We will deliver it to whoever is in charge of the Polish base, and then I will be off to meet lord Kovanen so he can welcome me and my people into the Union."
In just a matter of seconds, the air had turned much colder to his skin, like that of winter. Once again, I've been shown that many things are changing around the world—sombre things to which I cannot find an explanation. It terrified Levitt. He could always fight against a human or a creature, but no one could fight against the world itself and the many horrors it harboured.
Perhaps, was this the result of the war Master Isaac and Shana started? Maybe, Magic itself was furious because humans were playing with death, trying to experiment with it. Death; the only constant for every living being, no matter to which race one belonged, how powerful one could be, or how many evil deeds one could commit.
Once again, Levitt cursed Jordan for making them take part in that cursed war.
Ronald Weasley just stared at his bedroom's window, waiting for an owl he knew would not come. The redhead had tried it multiple times, but neither Daphne nor Blaise had taken the courtesy to answer his letters. Cursed be them and their bloody character! With an exasperated huff, almost like a growl, Ron got up from the bed and grabbed his wand, which rested atop the small and old table under the window. It was a fantastic day, not so hot to sweat like a pig and with a bright sun which beckoned him to go outside.
On his way down, he didn't meet anyone else. The twins were in muggle London, whereas his parents had gone to do some groceries at Diagon Alley, and Percy had tagged along with them, arguing that he needed to read some book about potions in the library. And Ginny… Well, what could be done about her, done was. Ron had tried his best, and, much to his surprise, it had gone much better than he had expected; which was a rather extraordinary thing for a change.
The stairs cracked as he stepped over them, soundly, but not enough for him to divert his mind from those thoughts about his sister. In just a few weeks since their conversation, she had looked much happier; her state was far from the ideal, of course, but all the paths began with a first step, which was often shaky and tentative. When others were around, Ginny just masked all her emotions, so expertly that even Daphne would have been impressed. And when she was left all alone, far from others' eyes, she just spent the whole day in the air, flying atop of a broom, or playing some of their childhood games with Ron.
After all, who else but he could understand what she went through?
Ron had Gerdnyaram by his side, and not only the Essentia, but even Harry and Hermione, who were aware of all that happened to him. Ron had had a very nice first year at Hogwarts—not counting the whole Stone of Life debacle, of course—and he had met plenty of people he could refer to as friends. Unfortunately, from what he knew now that Ginny had opened up a bit to him, Tom had also used her pride and desire to shine out against her. For quite some time, she became the leader and the girl-to-go of the Gryffindor newbies, and even people from other Houses wanted to be around her. However, it all changed the moment she became a bit too arrogant—Tom's coup de grâce before leaving her in the dust, replaced by her very own brother.
As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, the smell of toast and coffee filled his nostrils. Today it was his turn to clean up the kitchen, and he had yet to remove all those empty, dirty plates and glasses from the large, old table. The ancient Weasley Clock ticked, and his eyes went to it; his lever was the only one which pointed at 'at home'. Then a sudden, violent noise startled him, so much his wand was ready at hand in no time at all.
With a quick look at the closed window, Ron understood it all. "Oh, bloody hell!" Hermes, the family's old owl, had, once again, crashed against a window he thought to be wide open. The redhead went outside to retrieve the owl and the package it had brought with him. "Hermes, you poor bastard, deserve a bloody retirement party." Unfortunately, owls were a rather expensive good, and Percy's would be the one and only acquisition in quite a while.
Once inside, Ron just poured the exhausted bird a glass of water and some pieces of ham from the leftovers. Then he took his time to observe the delivery. It was a copy of the daily newspaper, The Prophet, and what was written on the cover drained all the colour from his face.
Gilderoy Lockhart; found dead on his bed, at St Mungos.
Without giving it a second thought, Ron opened the newspaper.
It is with a very saddened and heavy heart that I bring this news to you, citizens of England. This past night, Gilderoy Lockhart, one of the most respected and adored wizards in the recent years, has been found dead in his bed, at St Mungos, where he had rested since he suffered an attack at Hogwarts, by the hands of an individual whose identity still remains a mystery: the Heir of Slytherin.
For the past few weeks, Gilderoy, still in a comatose state, had shown bits of recovery which made the Healers rather hopeful. However, life is uncertain, and all can change from one day to another.
When asked about it, Eliza Rosier, the Head of the Intensive Care Unit at St Mungos, claims that no trace of violence, poison or abuse could be found, and also, that the circumstances are far too strange to be a natural death. This sombre theory, a very plausible explanation, was born the moment the name of Gilderoy Lockhart was brought up—a wizard of many accomplishments and success who did make countless enemies all around the globe. Is there a better moment to get revenge on a great man than during his weakest hours?
I myself was left scandalised when I thought about it, yet for a brief time, for another possibility had just come into the field. Some Healers proposed that Gilderoy had killed himself; just like that. They said he could have woken up and remembered the horrors he saw that night, or maybe, he just realised that his life would not be the same after the attack—and for a man who had touched greatness multiple times, that is one of the cruellest fates.
On paper, no one knows anything yet, but hear me out: the Healers of our country will not rest until they find out what happened to one of their patients. And I will be there to report all of it. That will be my homage to one of the best English wizards in the past few years.
Justice.
For a few seconds, Ron could not breathe, as if his lungs had just forgotten how to carry out the said action. Then he snapped out of it. "D-Did I… Did I…?" From what little he knew, the Professor had been attacked on the very same night the Chamber of Secrets was closed for good; or so had he been told by Tracey. Lockhart's unconscious body had been found near the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower, barely alive and embedded into a wall. "No, I must stop with this nonsense," the boy whispered to himself. "This is Tom' fault—his and only his." Besides, Ron had lain petrified on a bed at the medical wing the night it all happened, so it was impossible he had anything to do with it… Right?
Lockhart had been a fraud and an imposter, just as much of a bad Professor he had been. Someone whose ego was so big that, probably, for him, no person but he himself mattered. Still, he did not deserve to have his life cut short by Tom. No one did.
Ron just left the newspaper on the table and walked outside, in search of fresh air. Time passed fast as he trained under the watchful eyes of Gerdnyaram, who still refused to tell him about that way to share her powers with him. "You are not ready yet." Once again, he heard those words. And Ron accepted them. After all, summer was long and he had plenty of time to reach the level she requested of him.
He came back home just before lunch, cursing himself a hundred times because he had forgotten to clean the kitchen. Fortunately, it was left pristine by the time Molly came, who complimented his good work. Arthur had gone directly to work, and Percy ate fast, like some starved man would do, so he could go to his bedroom in order to finish an essay.
However, there was no trace of Ginny.
And Ron realised about it the moment Molly brought up the matter. "Where is your sister? She knew I wouldn't come so late today. Do you reckon she could have gone with the Lovegoods?" His mother looked worried, and so was he, though for completely different reasons.
Ron finished what was left of his dish in a few bites. "I might know where she is," Ron started. "Ehm, let's just say we had some kind of argument this morning, and, well, she seems to hold grudges for far longer than I do." Molly sent him an accusatory look, and Ron took it to the chest. She had bought his lie quite easily. "It wasn't anything serious, of course, but, eh… You know what? Let me take the food to her. I'm sure we can sort it out by talking about it like brother and sister, right?"
Molly just sighed in defeat. "One day, one of you seven it's gonna cause me a stroke. Come on, go to your sister and sort your differences out."
Ron sent her one grateful smile and ran outside with the plate of food in his hands. Bloody hell, Ginny! What is wrong with you now? She had seemed so happy these past days that none of it made sense. The redhead sensed Gerdnyaram's presence nearby, but the Essentia did not try to get closer. This was a Weasley matter, and she knew it well enough. Still, her presence helped to ease that feeling of oppression he felt; just a tiny bit, though.
In the end, just as his gut had told him, Ron found his sister at the pond.
Seated at the edge of the pond with the water scratching her knees, Ginny had rolled up her black skirt so it didn't get damped. She clearly heard his footsteps, yet didn't even emit a single word. It was then when Ron saw what lied by her side: today's The Prophet copy. A thousand different curses were said in his mind, in honour of his stupidity. He should have been more careful! He had left the newspaper atop of the kitchen table; it was obvious she was bound to find it.
"I know what you are thinking," Ron started. "So drop it at this very second. Trust me, I've also been there, and it gets you nowhere."
When she spoke, her voice came out hoarse and weak. "It ain't the same, Ron. You were asleep that night. You are free of guilt. But I… I remember it—parts of it, at least. I had buried them in the back of my mind, but after I read his name, they came back. He crossed me on the way to the Chamber, I think. All is blurry and confusing, but I can see his face, his scared eyes and pleas of mercy." She finally turned to look at him; her eyes were teary and red. "I killed him, Ron. I killed Gilderoy Lockhart."
Ron just walked forward so he could sit by her side. He took his shoes off and placed the plate of food between them; the water felt refreshing on his skin. For a few minutes, none talked.
"You killed no one, Gin," Ron finally said. "It was Tom Riddle the one to do it. All of it, no matter what, it's his fault. I know that nothing I can say will make you change your mind—I've also been there, you know? Yet that will not stop me from trying. Do you know why it was not your fault, why it could not be your fault? Because neither you nor anyone else could have resisted Tom. I couldn't either, and the same goes for Harry, Percy, Bill or any bloody name you wanna put on the list had they been in our place. You do not understand how powerful and dangerous Tom was, Ginny. You do not understand how far beyond our capacity that bastard was. It took me many headaches to accept it, but it is the only way forward, like it or not." Ron placed a hand over his sister's shoulder. "Tom is gone for good, but he will not be truly dead until we pass this page and forget about him. So, now, you better eat this delicious dish of spiced rice and steamed turkey breast, because, if not, I'm gonna eat it myself and you're gonna starve until dinner is served. It is up to you, dear Ginny."
"When did you become so wise, brother?"
"I didn't," Ron just huffed in response, though the hint of a smile appeared on his face. "I just crashed so many times against a wall that I know better than to take that very same path again. It hurts, but it seems to be the only way I can learn."
Ginny also smiled, faintly, yet it was enough. "Perhaps it is the only way for us, Weasleys, to learn. Through thick and thin, eh?"
"Through thick and thin."