In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 72: Marked
Tuesday morning, Neville turned once more in his four poster bed. He ignored the light that crept through his curtains, the warmth beneath the blankets felt good to his skin.
"Think it's a good idea?" asked Ernie Macmillan.
"I thought I knew the monster," Seamus Finnigan replied, "Seemed alright, even visited him last summer at the Weaselbee's, no hint he was going to pull this shit."
Neville stayed still, listened.
"Oh," Finnigan said, "My eyes have been opened to the truth, what he's really like. I talked with Cearo Tebworth, she even tried persuading me out of it. No, gotta be done."
"Potter's a wizard," Ernie Macmillan said, "No muggle can take him down."
"They can deal with his bitch," Finnigan said, "Hurt him where it hurts, and maybe he'll understand."
"Not like that sort of help is cheap," Macmillan said, "Where'd you get the money to—?"
"Shh!" Finnigan said as a rattle sounded off, "Ears and—" the curtain was torn away, on the floor was a grey diamond patterned skin of the rattlesnake. "Don't move Longbottom."
"Don't plan to," Neville said, pulled the blanket tighter around himself.
A yank, the covers removed, revealed Neville's skin save his white briefs, as he laid there. Seamus Finnigan, in Hogwarts grey dress trousers, a yellow jumper over top. Macmillan was similarly dressed.
"Imperio!" Finnigan said, wand pointed at the snake. A rattle as the snake slithered between Neville's legs, head came to rest on the bulge of the briefs.
Another rattle, a hiss, and the head came to bite into the sausage beneath the cloth, the fangs rested into the threads of the fabric.
"That's Potter," Macmillan said, "Want that?"
"Crucio!" Finnigan shouted, wand aimed at the snake.
A piercing pain as the snake's fangs twitched and went in.
"Put this—" Macmillan threw a canary yellow jumper at Neville. "Put that on and we'll help."
Neville twitched as the snake thrashed about, he tried to muffle his own shouts of pain.
"Wear that or the next one visits your bollocks," Finnigan said.
"You don't know my gran," Neville snapped, uncertain to which fate would be worse.
"We're trying to help you stand up to her!" Macmillan said, "Aren't tired of her barking—"
"She's my gran," Neville protested, trying to fight the lure.
"A traitor grandson means she might need to be questioned," Finnigan said, "Dying at the hands of Potter, or protect her by wearing that jumper." A flick of the wand, the snake moved off Neville, another flick and the snake disintegrated. "Can we stop fighting? I'd rather be friends, improve everybody's life here."
"We'll help you to the Hospital Wing." Macmillan leaned over, helped Neville to his feet. "Get those bites looked at."
"Sorry for that," Finnigan said, "It's frustrating, I know you're my friend, I don't understand why you're not believing the truth before your eyes."
"You don't know everything," Neville said, now limping with the throbbing pain within his undershorts, leaning on Macmillan to go down the steps.
"Here," Finnigan said, "Before you freeze."
Neville accepted the cloth going down over him, knew it to be the canary yellow jumper.
"Actually bit you on the todger?" Macmillan asked.
"Yeah," Neville muttered as they reached the common room.
Neville walked with Ernie Macmillan, and they left Gryffindor Tower.
"I'll get Lovegood for you," Finnigan said.
"Ta," Neville said as Finnigan left.
Together, Neville and Ernie Macmillan marched along, windows still dark outside, down to the Hospital Wing.
"Madam Pomfrey!" Macmillan shouted.
"Onto a bed," said Madam Pomfrey as she came out, "What happened?"
"Another snake," Macmillan said, "Bit him as he slept on the bed."
After being given antivenom, Neville left the Hospital Wing.
"New day, new you," Ernie Macmillan said, "Here she comes."
Neville glanced, Luna approached.
"Snake bite?" Luna asked, her hand reached for Neville's, "Dare I ask where?"
"Right on…" Neville started.
"I'll go, get your school things," Ernie Macmillan said.
Neville went down the stairs. Her blue dress flowed with each step. Neville entered the Great Hall, walked along the Gryffindor Table, and sat.
"Seamus set the snake on me," Neville whispered.
"He almost killed a first year and got let off," Lana said, "Doubt you'll garner sympathy."
"And forced this jumper," Neville said.
"I'd prefer a different one," Luna said, "Maybe it's better to at least pretend you're going along with them."
"Feels wrong," Neville said.
"Good," Luna said.
Neville sat there as he grabbed some cauldron cakes. Luna reached for hard boiled eggs. Neville thought about things as he ate, wondered how Harry was getting on.
Meanwhile back in Noigate, Ron wrapped the towel tight around his waist as he left the bathroom. Harry came up the stairs, fresh from his morning run, with Richard two steps behind.
"Thinking about taking Jen out camping this weekend," Richard said, "Interested?"
"Sounds fun," Ron said, knowing a breather is needed, especially after having been in a coma for a week, "If Harry's up for it."
"Yeah," Harry said.
"What are you conspiring about?" Hermione asked as she came out of the bathroom.
"Weekend plans," Ron said.
"Need to get to the weekend first," Hermione said.
"Optimist," Richard said before he went for his bedroom.
HOOT!
Harry and Ron went into Gia's bedroom, letters on the bed, along with The Daily Prophet. Harry went over, gave Hedwig several strokes and an owl treat, while Ron picked up the paper.
"Anything good?" Harry asked.
"Doubt it," Ron replied, "It'd even give splinters if you used it to wipe your arse."
Harry snorted as Ron opened it. Ron moved past the snakes article, to the second page.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Dumbledore Encouraging Rebellious Potter
by Rita Skeeter
Dolores Jane Umbridge, Chair of the Harry Potter Guidance Committee (HPGC), and Victor Fallerschain, Minister of Magic, both confirm that Potter, the Boy Who should not have Lived, is utterly rebellious and demented; Potter's behavior is totally unacceptable and is being encouraged by Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Potter's behavior is running unchecked by a majority of the staff at Hogwarts.
Yesterday, HPGC ordered a locker inspection of the possessions of Harry Potter at Hogwarts. Umbridge confirmed that they received nothing but road blocks and impediments from the teachers including Potter's head of house, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress. Umbridge report that she was stalled in her inspection by McGonagall, which gave Potter sufficient time to dispose of incriminating evidence — his bed was conveniently in a pile of ash upon her arrival. Inspection of Potter's possessions resulted in finding less than half the items normally associated with a student in their sixth year; both McGonagall and Potter provided no reasonable explanation to account for the missing required school items. Umbridge concludes that either the items were destroyed or hidden prior to her arrival.
HPGC also ordered anger management sessions for Potter in an attempt to help him to better mitigate the stresses of ordinary teenage life; as noted before, Potter has shown tendencies to anger over trivial matters like pimples on his nose — HPGC also hoped to ensure Potter was not blaming anybody else for his inexcusable behavior of last week that led to his castration. Umbridge tried to bring Potter into the session, but Potter refused and sought refuge with Albus Dumbledore. Potter lashed out at the Minister of Magic until Dumbledore found reason to suspend Potter — the Minister extended this to the end of the month for reasons of the outlandish behavior on the part of Potter.
Minister of Magic Victor Fallerschain is understandably irritated by this constant lack of cooperation on the part of Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore has consistently stymied and stalled all attempts to intercede on the Potter matter — Dumbledore has refused to allow Fallerschain access to Potter during the suspensions, thereby preventing Fallerschain from verifying that Dumbledore is abiding by the conditions of the suspensions.
All reasonable readers should be outraged by this behavior; Dumbledore harboring a known Dark Wizard thereby permitting the destruction of our way of life. This proves that Albus Dumbledore, credited with the removal of Grindelwald, is still fallible to the devices of the emerging Lord Potter, successor to the devices of You Know Who. When begging for your life, remember, we tried.
"I'm in mortal peril standing next to you," Ron said, "And your committee is very happy."
"Careful," Harry said, "Your todger can't stretch that far with those lies."
Hermione came into the bedroom, nodded. Ron moved to his letter.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Ron,
Thank Harry for the idea… George and Fred will make loads from the snakes. Got no sympathies to Seamus Finnigan who was bitten, he's fueling the rumors that Harry was the perpetrator, though nobody witnessed the release, nobody heard Harry use Parseltongue, no investigation but they blame Harry. If only we could use snakes for Gryffindor vs Slytherin.
Ginny.
"Too bad snakes aren't legal in Quidditch," Ron said as Gia entered the bedroom
"Use yours," Gia said as she wrapped her arms around from the backside of Harry.
Harry stood there, reading the letter, as Gia curled her fingers around Harry's front, her bosom his shoulders. A frown on Harry's face threatened to leave as his interest showed.
"Wish we had time," Harry grumbled.
"It's not fair they—don't give a damn, do they?" Gia asked.
Harry took Gia's hint, turned around, as she leaned against the edge of her desk. Her fingers worked his front, the letter dropped. Ron picked up the parchment, glanced at Harry teasing into her. Ron read the letter.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Dear Mr. Harry James Potter
I'm flabbergasted that you had the audacity to release venomous snakes against your fellow students. Has our relationship meant nothing?
You are ordered to respond with a letter of apology to Mr. Seamus Finnigan explaining how you wronged him and how you managed to pull off this stunt under our very eyes!
You are ordered to attend anger management sessions, meet us at The Three Broomsticks tonight at 7pm. Do not be late.
Delores Umbridge, Chairperson of the Harry Potter Guidance Committee
"That'd conflict with defense," Hermione said, "Not to mention getting to Hogsmeade when we're not welcome."
"I know." Ron glanced at Harry kissing Gia. "Not like he's going to that."
Hermione shook her head.
"Ready?" Richard asked through the cracked door.
"One moment." Gia reached, grabbed an already buttoned blouse, and pulled it over her head.
Harry moved for the door.
"No," Hermione said, "We've got lessons."
Ron wasn't certain who was more disappointed.
"I need to walk—" Harry started.
"I'll be fine," Gia said to Harry. She gave a final kiss and left the bedroom.
"And unless you two want to be showing off your knickers," Hermione said, "Suggest you two get dressed."
Minutes later, at ten past eight, Ron, Harry, and Hermione landed in Lupin's living room. Before Ron had a chance to remove his finger from Harry's Portkey, the voice bellowed out.
"You're late," Moody growled, raising his wand, "And no wands."
Wand remained aimed at Harry for a second before it flew into Harry's wand.
"Thanks," Harry said.
"Spare wand cores?" Moody asked them.
"Think your eye needs an adjustment," Harry said as he threw the wand back to Moody.
Ron followed Harry and Moody down the stairs, through the door in the wall of the cellar, into the Room of Requirement.
"To wonder why you fail to carry your wands—" Moody started, a flick of his wand sent a fast moving Bludger toward Harry.
"REDUCTUS!" Harry shouted, his holly wand in his hand.
Shards of leather, pewter rained down around them.
"Exactly how—" Moody started.
"That shall remain a secret," Ron stated.
"Be skilled at it," Moody said.
Ron caught Hermione's glances, the curiosity behind her eyes at him. They continued with the lesson with Moody for hours.
Gia shivered as she pulled her jumper tight, in the light cool wind beneath the morning partly cloudy sky.
"Wish I had him along," Gia said.
"Unreasonable to expect him to escort you every trip to school," Richard said.
"I know," Gia said, "He means well."
"Bit smothering," Richard said.
Jen came up to them, joined in the walk, curled her arm around Richard's.
"Harry's worried," Gia said.
A squeak, a rat with a silver paw hugged the corner of the garden wall they passed. A bark, the rat hid. Several cars drove past as Gia walked with Richard and Jen.
"Maybe he needs to get out and relax," Jen said, "Another hike?"
"He'd like that," Gia said.
"In the snow?" Richard asked.
"Plan it up," Gia suggested.
They continued to walk to school. Another squeak as they crossed the bridge over the brook behind the school, a rat dropped off the side into the water. Gia walked with Richard, past the construction to the trailer classroom and entered.
That afternoon, Ron leaned back against the wood chair, heard the timbers creak as his weight shifted. Toes of the feet between his thighs plied into him; Ron didn't glance, knew these to be Hermione's stretched below the dining table of 26 Oak Street. Ron left the book up, on the table, read into the spells. Hermione sipped from her tea mug, before her eyes returned to him.
"Quidditch is all that's ever on your mind," Hermione said.
"He is studying," Harry said, also on that side with Hermione.
"Instead of spells," Hermione said, "Ron plans to bore Voldemort with Chudley Canons statistics?"
"I dunno," Harry said, "What's his favorite team? Tom's?"
Hermione snorted.
"Maybe we'll have to play Quidditch against him," Ron said, "Never know."
"And a Wronski Feint is what takes him out," Harry said.
"Let's see if this'll work," Ron said, as he laid the book face down, with Chudley Canons, 1745-1746 Season cover facing upward.
Ron aimed his wand at Hermione.
"Distrahere!" Ron said.
"Like that's going to work," Hermione said.
Harry stood, stretched his arms.
"Getting to be about that time," Harry said.
"I'll come," Hermione said as her feet left.
"Old fashioned way," Harry said, "Walking. Ron—go to the class."
Hermione stood.
"Not for hours," Ron said.
"Come," Hermione said.
Ron shook his head.
"Think we oughta write Madam Pomfrey," Harry said.
"You weren't knocked out for a week," Ron replied.
"Suit yourself," Harry said.
Hermione and Harry abandoned their homework, essays, and left the dining room. Ron waited before reading a bit more.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Mood Curses
These charms can be used therapeutically to allow a patient's moods, either undesirable or desirable, to affect their physical condition, highlighting what is effecting them.
"Great," Ron muttered, "What are they?"
"Guarded," the nearby sorting hat said, the brim of the outback hat on the table moved, "Usually shared with an apprentice on the fifth floor of St. Mungo's."
Ron stood, went up to Gia's bedroom, to the bookshelf, and grabbed Ministry Health, brought it back down to the dining room. Ron thumbed through it.
"Emergency mental health sound right?" Ron asked the hat.
"That book may have what you're after," the sorting hat said, "You aren't satisfied?"
"No," Ron said, "I mean, sure, Harry's happy today. But what about tomorrow?"
"You're expecting things to get worse?" the Sorting Hat asked.
Ron stared at the hat for a moment as fur rubbed past his feet.
"Yeah," Ron said, "About the one constant of the year—things get shittier."
Ron picked up Crookshanks, held him.
"Yip! Yip!"
"MEOW! HISS!"
CRASH!
Ron stood.
"Andrea!" Kristen snapped as she showed in the door to the living room, wearing her police uniform.
"Thank me for finding him!" Richard barked.
"Richard!" Kristen snapped.
Stomps on the stairs, fur brushed Ron's feet.
"Sorry about that," Kristen said to Ron.
Ron glanced at her eyes
"You'd think she'd be more appreciative for Richard finding her dog," Kristen said.
Ron reached down, picked up Crookshanks, heard his purr as he rubbed his head, the tail brushed against him. Ron's stomach growled.
"Grab a bite while I change," Kristen said, "We'll leave for class."
Kristen left. Crookshanks hissed as Ron put him down.
"Got class," Ron said to him, "Hermione'll be back after that."
Ron went into the kitchen, pulled out some ham from the refrigerator. He ate it as he left the house, Kristen in her police sweats, into the cool air and cloudy skies above. They made it to the center, entered. Harry, Hermione, and Gia were already there.
"There's the boss," said Garrett Tremble, as he bowed from the center of the small crowd wearing similar sweats to Kristen's.
"You're on," Kristen said.
Ron leaned back against the padded wall near the main door, Hermione stood next to him, while Gia and Harry were to the other end, next to the tucked in bleachers.
"We only…" Hermione drifted off.
Ron turned his head toward her brown eyes, spotted the memory of Harry's hard cock reaching into her.
"We're all friends," Ron said.
"Pay attention," Tremble said, "I need one volunteer."
Ron watched those eyes, knew him to be assessing for size. Tremble's eyes fixed onto Harry, the smallest of the lot there. A motion summoning with the hand, Harry marched forward.
"There are days your adversary gets the better of you," Tremble said, "Chokeholds—you need to know how to apply and break them. Harry, please."
Harry leaned away from them, his butt aimed toward them.
"See how I've got his neck?" asked Garrett Tremble, to the class that watched them both.
"One guess who'll come out ahead," Ron whispered to Hermione.
"Instructor, obviously," Hermione said.
"Yeah, right," Ron whispered.
"He wouldn't!" Hermione snapped.
"See how the suspect tries to…" Garrett Tremble started.
Harry took a step, through the arms.
"Did he—?" Hermione started.
"Lousy grip, likely sweat," Garrett said, "Mind being a good sport?"
Harry bowed once, returned to his stance, this time, leaned forward, as the arm went down over the neck.
"Think he's—" Hermione started.
"More worried about…" Ron cut himself off, figured best to not mention Magical Law Enforcement out loud.
Garrett Tremble tumbled forward, rolled onto the mat. Harry moved over him, offered a hand up.
"Lousy luck," Garrett said as he stood back up, "Try me."
"Um…" Harry pointed. "Ron."
"Put your foot in that one," Hermione said to Ron.
Ron stepped forward.
"Guess friends are better," Garrett Tremble said, "For this exercise, you're enemies."
"I'll bang that arse," Ron said to Harry.
Harry snorted.
"You're on," Harry said as he shook Ron's hand.
…
Hermione watched Ron bend over. Harry put his arm around Ron's neck.
"Which one?" Gia asked Hermione.
"Um…" Hermione muttered.
Ron's right leg up into the air as he rolled over, onto his back. Ron on top of Harry, arm went around Harry's neck. A streak, the two were ten feet further.
"That's not running," Gia said.
"No," Hermione said, "It's not."
Harry wrenched, both ended up on their backs, laughing.
"At least they're playing together," Gia said.
"There is that," Hermione said to Gia.
"Ladies next," said Garrett Tremble as he came over to Gia and Hermione, his hand out at them.
Gia and Hermione worked with Tremble, put each other in the head locks and choke holds, worked on escaping them, until the whistle blew.
"Until next time!" Garrett announced.
Hermione felt the warm friendship those two sets of twinkling eyes instilled into her as Harry and Ron turned. Hair that matched the strands over their earlobes, they walked up to the girls.
"What happened?" Gia asked.
Hermione spotted it, the black eye of Ron's.
"Don't want to talk about it," Ron said.
"Will you two stop using magic!" Hermione snapped, "It's MUGGLES!"
"I didn't—" Harry started.
"Sorry," Ron said.
Kristen and Tremble walked out of the community center at the same time as Harry and Ron did. Gia and Hermione followed.
"Quick moves," Tremble said to Harry.
"Ta," Harry said, "Race ya."
Hermione watched Harry and Ron vanish into the cold evening as she left the center. In the distance, an alarm rang out.
"You said he's only sixteen?" Garrett asked Kristen as they entered the police station.
"Uh–huh," Kristen replied.
"Considered signing him up?" Garrett asked.
Kristen chuckled, entered the office.
"Shouldn't you be at home?" asked Frank, brim of his hat slipped below his eyebrows, leaned back in the chair with his black leather shoes up on the desk.
"I'd ask the same of you," Kristen said, "You're not on the night roster."
"Neither are you," Frank retorted.
"What's eating at you?" Kristen asked.
"That kid you're so fond of," Frank said, "I'm still getting letters claiming to witness his guilt—obviously most are lying… it was a murder in a dark alley, not in the middle of the Globe Theater!"
"He's…I know what I saw." Kristen went over to the coffee pot, poured into a mug. "Yes, he can be damn fast, but he's not going to be in two places at once."
"Still have a photograph that suggests he was," Frank said, waving the one of Diggle being shot from a raven black haired bloke. "How fast is he?"
Kristen held the black porcelain mug between her hands.
"Maybe Tremble's getting on in years faster than he appears," Kristen said, "Swore the kid…it's not possible to simply vanish only to reappear elsewhere?"
"Sure," Frank said, "Telly's been doing it for years."
"Maybe I haven't had enough caffeine," Kristen said.
Kristen yawned.
"You don't need coffee," Frank said, "You need to go home and rest."
Kristen set the mug down on the desk.
"Ta," Frank said.
"Any chance we could relocate the city?" Kristen asked, "Give ourselves all a nice holiday as a tropical beach–side resort."
"Are you kidding?" Frank said, "Know the troublemakers that show up to those places?"
"Bad idea," Kristen said.
Frank switched to another letter.
"Another one suggesting he was involved in that boy you found a couple weeks ago," Frank said.
"I know the reaction I saw in him," Kristen said, "No, he was as revolted as I was."
Kristen knew Harry hasn't told the full truth. She didn't know what he was afraid of, though she knew he could hold his own with a chokehold, as if he's gotten out of them before.
"Race ya," Harry said as he and Ron left the community center first, into the dark cold evening.
Harry moved with each fast step.
"Hey!" came Ron's plea.
Months of morning runs had honed his muscles, his thighs moved, his feet pushed down on the pavement. An alarm from the shop ahead, Harry dismissed it, but turned down the path between that shop and the next. Across the car–park, into the trees, Harry stopped and waited. No sooner had red hair appeared between the shops than an arm went around Harry's neck from behind.
"Stupid runt!" came Dudley's voice as Harry started to go down.
"Even starkers," came another voice, Piers.
Harry tumbled forward, rolled out of it, wand aimed, shining light at Dudley. Piers carried a register money tray, laden with banknotes.
"Inheritance run dry?" Harry asked.
"Not like you got anything," Dudley said.
"Don't think about it," said Ron, coming up to stand shoulder to shoulder with Harry.
"Another freaky cousin?" Piers asked.
A flash of blue.
"Think it best you return that," Harry said.
"Run!" Dudley shouted
Ropes sprang from Harry's wand, bound them both together.
"OVER HERE!" Harry shouted.
Harry and Ron bolted into the shadows as the police officers approached.
"We're framed!" Dudley protested as he was tackled to the ground.
Harry slipped into the brush first, Ron followed, eluded the shining of torches.
"Should've stayed," Ron said a minute later.
"Why?" Harry said, "No explanation seemed necessary."
"Dudley had you in a chokehold?" Ron asked.
"Not like it was the first time," Harry said.
They walked along, returned to 26 Oak Street.
"Hey Dad!" came the call upstairs, "Can I have you drive us on Friday?"
Harry and Ron sat on the coffee table in front of the fire.
"Dudley was…" Harry started, drifted.
"You ungrateful bastard who should never have been born," said Uncle Vernon, his voice coming back from the depths of Harry's mind, "Should pull you out, pocket the tuition, you'll never amount to anything. Hold em still."
Head restrained by Dudley, in a choke–hold, Harry began to black out when he woke up inside his cupboard beneath the stairs.
"Hermione accused us of magic?" Harry asked.
"You didn't mean to," Ron said.
"Except the ropes," Harry said.
"As Mum said," Ron said, "Magic's part of who we are. Try to hide with muggles, it seeps out anyways."
Harry waited for Richard Wednesday morning, low hanging moon casting rays into the bedroom.
"Ready," Richard said.
They went down the stairs. Harry gripped Richard's shoulder as Richard's hand turned the knob to the door.
"Ta," Richard said as the cold air greeted them.
Harry took the first step, last shimmers of moonlight seeped through the clouds as the bitter cold seeped in through the gaps of his clothes. Harry followed as Richard went down the footpath first. They waved at the first older lady walking, she waved back.
"Talked to Dad," Richard said as they came to run side by side, "He can drive us, not too far."
"Good," Harry said, "Friday, right?"
"They won't let me cut class," Richard said.
"Not like you want to," Harry said.
Richard shook his head and they kept running.
"Who's he?" Richard asked, as they rounded a corner of high street.
A man, a fedora over scraggly brown hair, leaned back in the corner, held up a newspaper.
Harry shook his head, decided it best to keep running.
That evening, Harry sank down into the foamy hot water of the tub on the pool deck above the living room. Gia, Hermione, and Ron were already in the tub.
"Aw…" Harry muttered.
A dog bark, a door slam.
"I…" Hermione stopped at Kristen stepped out, in her bathing suit.
"Water's great," Gia said to Kristen.
Kristen placed her left foot over the ledge. Ron snickered.
"What?" Kristen asked.
"Nothing," Harry lied.
Harry felt the pain in his temple, closed his eyes. A wand aimed within his vision, heard the word.
"Skärmorsmordre!"
Harry managed to fight it and opened his eyes.
"Being a responsible adult," Kristen said, swinging her right foot in, "I should—"
Green light flickered, reflected, shimmered off the surface of the water.
"Fireworks?" Kristen stammered, "Andrea's playing with FIREWORKS?!"
Harry stood as did Kristen, joined in the gaze off the deck. Behind cracks in the clouds, showing a waxing gibbous moon, the giant green skull, a serpent tongue, bottle green eyes to either side of a yellow lightning bolt fixed to the forehead, the display rose into the sky; the clouds above glowed.
"Dark mark!" Ron muttered
"BLIMEY!" Harry exclaimed, "Who're the victims?"
A towel flew into Harry's hands as he jumped out of the hot tub.
"Your affair," Ron said to Kristen as he also stood.
"You're—" Gia started to say to Harry.
"Stay here," Harry said.
"Goes for you too," Kristen said.
"You want me along," Harry stated as he headed for Richard's door.
"No," Kristen said, as Harry spun around, to see the strength behind her eyes, "If there's a crime—"
"Death Eaters sent that up!" Harry pointed, "It is my business."
Harry dashed for the master bedroom as the phone within it rang. Through the yellow, a spin into Gia's bedroom, Kristen answered the phone while Harry dressed.
"Hello?" Kristen said, "Really? … Where? … I'll be there."
Ron and Hermione came into Gia's bedroom as Harry came out.
"Hermione—guard Gia," Harry said.
"Oh!" Hermione stammered.
Harry about flew down the stairs, only to be met by Kristen in her sweats at the front door.
"I said—" Kristen started.
"I must know!" Harry snapped as Ron hurried down the stairs.
"Got no time to argue," Kristen said, the irritation clear in her voice, as Harry left the house with her. "Tell me everything."
"Tall order," Harry said, leading into a jog toward the loitering green skull.
"Your reaction says it all," Kristen said, "You know something—"
"Dark Mark—that!" Harry pointed.
"It's Death Eaters," Ron said, "Our business—"
"Stop evading—" Kristen started.
"My Mum was murdered by one," Ron said.
"This is a police matter," Kristen said, "I want—"
"You want us around," Harry said, "You're in over your head."
They came to the road with flashing lights lighting up the faces that watched from windows.
"You're going to level with me when we get home," Kristen said to Harry.
Harry didn't argue, ran for the house, the one in the middle of the row, flattened surrounded by firetrucks, ambulances, and police cruisers. Harry slowed down, his wand came to his hand, as another wand brought Harry to a halt; Ron's breathing behind him.
"What are you doing here?" Moody demanded, "It's swarming with Ministry—including a Minster, so THINK boy about what they'd say to finding you being here."
"What are you—?" Harry started.
"Go back," Kristen said as she returned, "Tell Andrea and Gia—the Stewarts, all four of them."
"I'll escort," Moody offered.
"Didn't catch your name," Kristen said.
"He's fine," Harry said, "So long as he's the real Mad–Eye Moody."
"A Minister's going to Mad–Eye you unless you leave," Moody said.
Ron jogged with Harry and Moody, before they returned to a fast trot.
"Into the house," Moody said.
Wand aimed, Harry and Ron went through the open green door.
"Who?" Hermione asked.
"Stewarts," Harry said, "Dead."
Gia ran up the stairs, Hermione followed. Harry and Ron about started to follow.
"Boy!" Moody said, "That could've been a trap for you!"
Harry turned back around.
"Which Kristen walked into!" Harry snapped.
"Swarming with Ministry," Moody said.
"I trust her," Harry snapped.
"The bloody Dark Mark!" Ron exclaimed.
"Thought you'd handle it?" Moody said, "Noticed that mark wasn't the mark of old?"
"Shit," Harry sank onto the armchair.
"Mind me keeping the Minister off your trail." Moody left.
Harry stared at Ron, standing by the fireplace, the soft todger gave a quick glow, remained dangling beneath the familiar red pubic hair, both features between the two open halves of the plaid overshirt.
"New charm?" Ron asked.
"Yeah," Harry grumbled.
Door swung open. Harry turned his torso, stretched to check.
"Hello," Ron said to Kristen as she entered.
"Any news?" Harry asked.
"What?" Kristen said, "Late night at the barracks. Anything the matter?"
"Memory charm?" Ron whispered at Harry.
"A what?" Kristen asked.
"Nevermind," Harry said, knew the futility of asking anything at this point.
"Not sure when I changed out of my uniform," Kristen said as she went up the stairs, out of sight.
Harry exhaled, Ron took a step back.
"You're…" Harry started.
"Upstairs?" Ron asked.
Harry stood, went up the steps. Richard and Andy on the upper landing.
"Like I care!" Andy snapped at Richard, "DICK BREATH!"
"It's true?" Richard asked, "Stewarts?"
"Death Eaters killed them," Harry stated.
Color drained from Richard's face, Harry went for Gia's bedroom. Hermione already on the bed, sitting with her back to Gia's. Harry slid down, let the shirt chase off of him, sat on the floor. Ron leaned back against the wall.
"You're…" Harry started.
"Save the world with my todger," Ron said.
Harry snorted. He glanced at Hedwig's empty perch.
"Dumbledore needed to know," Hermione said.
"Likely already does," Harry said, thinking of Mad–eye Moody.
"I'm out of bright ideas," Ron said.
"Like you ever have them," Hermione said.
"Suck my todger," Ron suggested.
"It's changed," Harry said, unable to vocalize the difference, that Death Eaters struck a short distance away.
"I talked to him—like an hour ago," Gia said, "Stopped over there…"
Flashing lights in the distance dimmed before their sirens went silent.
"Shame," the Keeper said, "Hopefully the bulletin to the muggles does the trick, reminding them to properly service their gas."
Wormtail snickered.
"Apologize to our Lord," the Keeper said, "Always a risk when one employees a muggle."
"Muggles?" Wormtail asked.
"An errant witch or wizard is liable to know too much, do some trick of magic," the Keeper said, "Afraid that draws unwanted attention."
"Who did this search?" Wormtail asked.
"May take a few days to hire another." The Keeper set his boot on the corpse beneath him, the man in the fedora hat. "Claimed to have an infallible record—he missed."