Chapter 55
Being imprisoned as he was meant that Gellert couldn't simply pass a message at a whim, and since Weber had left, it seemed as though he had been pacing back and forth in his cell, waiting for a visitor to come along.
Maybe it had only been a few hours since, but he'd watched the sunrise and set once again before he heard the tell-tale sign of someone approaching.
"What is wrong?" Cassiopeia asked as she came upon him.
"Weber," Gellert answered gravely. "He came here shortly after you left."
"And?"
Gellert released a deep breath.
"He said he will think about assisting us, but he gave me a warning. Abernathy is sending his very best after Evans and Jameson. Cassie, my dear, you must warn them immediately."
"That bad?"
Gellert nodded.
"Do you remember that before Albus defeated me, the ICW group who retook Athens?"
Cassiopeia frowned before nodding.
"The was a few hundred of them, and they just vanished overnight."
"Not vanished," Gellert sighed. "I asked Abernathy for his advice on how to displace them. He assured me it would be dealt with. A week later, Athens was mine, and officially, there was no trace left of the ICW force."
"Officially?"
Gellert released a deep breath.
"Abernathy sent his men in there and they slaughtered them all. They removed their heads and put them on spikes, waiting for me when I arrived. The things they did to them…"
Cassiopeia was taken aback by how much Gellert had been affected by what he'd seen that day.
Having been given the word that the city had been retaken, he'd opted to see it for himself before moving his own men back in.
It was the very grotesque sight he'd described to the woman in front of him that had greeted Gellert, and he'd spent hours cleaning up the mess left behind.
The buildings had been sprayed with blood, the men had been mercilessly cut down in droves, each of their dying expressions speaking of the agonising end that had befallen them.
Gellert didn't know exactly what had been done to them. The corpses piled high had been too mutilated to differentiate between magic and draconian torture methods.
It was something Gellert would never forget.
"You must warn them as quickly as you can. They will be unable to avoid what is to come, but they can be prepared for it, at the very least."
Cassiopeia nodded reassuringly.
"I will visit Jameson at Hogwarts," she decided. "I can do it under the guise of visiting my niece."
"Thank you," Gellert said appreciatively. "When you have done that, I would urge you to keep your head down for a while. It would not do to draw any more attention to yourself."
Cassiopeia rolled her eyes at him.
"Fine," she agreed. "I will keep my head down."
She left without delay, and Gellert breathed a sigh of relief.
What good his warning would do, he didn't know, but he'd done all he could for Evans and Jameson.
The rest would be up to them. Whether they lived or died would be up to them.
(Break)
Having had dinner with her brother and Eliza, the realisation that she was getting married to Harry had set in for Amelia. Although it was quite terrifying in some ways, the nervousness she felt gave way to the excitement of what was happening to her, and since the ring had been placed on her finger, it finally felt real.
"If you're here for the report on the owner of the Owl Emporium, it's not ready yet," Jenny informed her as Amelia entered the examination room.
"I'm not," the redhead replied, leaning her back against one of the counters and folding her arms.
"Ah, so this is a social visit."
"It might be."
Jenny frowned as she turned to look at her, pausing as she immediately spotted the ring on her finger.
"Are you…?" she gasped.
Amelia beamed as she nodded, and quickly found herself pulled into a tight embrace, not dissimilar to the one Eliza had given her.
"When? How? I want to know everything!" Jenny demanded.
Amelia complied, explaining how it was it came to be that she was now engaged to Harry. Jenny was ecstatic, and seemingly even more excited than she was.
"Well, we need to look for dresses, flowers, and a cake!" she reeled off. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"
Amelia could only shake her head as the woman fetched a quill and sheet of parchment and began writing notes as she continued to speak.
"What about a venue?"
"Jenny, we don't have to do everything this very second."
"I know, but I want to help!"
"You can help," Amelia assured her friend.
"We need to go shopping!" Jenny declared. "Oh, there's not much chance of doing that here. Maybe we can take a trip to Paris or Milan. That would be perfect."
"Not Paris," Amelia said dismissively.
The French were still having their own troubles after what Harry had done in the capital.
"Then Milan it is!"
"Fine," Amelia agreed and found herself wrapped in another tight hug. "Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?"
"You won't," Jenny said with a grin. "It is going to be amazing. You're getting married!"
(Break)
The air was saturated with magic, and once more, the entirety of Diagon Alley had been closed to the public. Not that it made much of a difference. The place was desolate at the best of times now.
"I'll be back shortly, Kingsley," Alastor sighed. "I'll speak with the rest of the group about what has happened."
His partner nodded as he drew his wand, ready to defend himself if needed.
Shacklebolt had been a quick study.
He managed to remain calm in even the most dire of circumstances, and he was one of the few people Alastor trusted with his life.
Taking a final look around the pub, he stepped through the floo and into Albus's office, where he found that the group was already gathered.
Judging by the sombre mood, Albus had informed them of what had happened to Benjy, but there were questions, and they came at Alastor thick and fast.
"What happened?"
"Do you know who did it?"
"How did they get to him?"
"Are we safe?"
Alastor held up a hand to silence the group.
It was the early hours of the morning and Benjy had been found only a few hours prior outside of the Owl Emporium. Why Riddle had killed the owner, Alastor didn't know, but there had never been any rhyme or reason to the things the Dark Lord did.
"Aye, Benjy is dead," Alastor confirmed. "We are struggling to find any useable evidence, but we won't stop trying. I'm guessing people were paying more attention to what he was doing than we thought, and no, none of us are safe, but then again, who is these days?"
"Is there anything you can tell us, Alastor?" Albus asked.
"Not at the moment," Alastor sighed, "but I will keep you all informed of anything we do find. For now, there is only one thing we can rely on. Constant Vigilance! Be careful and do not take anything for granted. Do not ignore your instincts, and always have an escape plan for wherever you are."
His words brought them little comfort.
Alastor understood.
Most of those gathered were not trained Aurors, and they had already witnessed the horrors of war.
To most, such a thing was only ever read about in the newspaper or was little more than an announcement on the radio with a number of people who had been killed.
The reality was much worse, and they were experiencing it for themselves first-hand.
It was a grim observation, but it was wat the entirety country was facing.
It was a morose Alastor who returned to The Leakey Cauldron, and his colleagues appeared to be as lost as ever as they milled about, murmuring amongst themselves.
"Alright, you lot, come on, look sharp!" Alastor barked.
"Christ, Moody, are you always this loud when someone is trying to work?"
Alastor was taken aback by the sudden appearance of the man who was berating him.
"Jameson! What are you doing here?"
"Helping, I hope," the man answered. "We heard about the place being closed down on the radio, and you know what Amelia is like. She couldn't sleep until she came to see it for herself."
Alastor snorted as he nodded.
"Aye, I know her well enough. You're the damned fool who is going to be married to her."
Jameson grinned proudly, and Alastor shook his head.
The two of them were perfect for each other.
Bones was about as terrifying as anyone he'd met when she chose to be, and Jameson was an outright lunatic in his own way.
Alastor could only imagine the shades of red he could have Grimm achieve if Jameson had chosen to become an Auror.
Perish the thought.
Jameson would be sacked within a week.
He was not so good at following rules, and he certainly wouldn't pay attention to the handbook each Auror was expected to adhere to.
Of course, Alastor bent the rules to his benefit when needed, but Jameson would flout them entirely.
"What is it?" Alastor asked as the man paused.
Jameson released a deep sigh.
"There are a lot of magical traces here, but I've managed to pick out two of them."
"Then what's the problem? Give me the names, and I will bring them in."
Jameson shook his head.
"You'll never get any of the charges to stick, Alastor. They could say that they'd been here earlier in the day. There's not enough to arrest them, and even if you did, they'd get away with it."
Alastor cursed under his breath.
"But you're certain?"
"Absolutely."
Alastor nodded as he remembered exactly what had happened here, and the state of Benjy's corpse.
"Then this conversation never happened, Jameson," the Auror murmured. "Do what you think is right. This is war, after all."
Jameson merely nodded in response before taking his leave of the bar, and Alastor shifted his attention back towards his colleagues.
"Clean it up," he instructed. "There's nothing else we can do."
It had taken little deduction on his part for him to realise what Jameson would do with the information he'd gathered, but Alastor had decided that feigning ignorance was his best option.
Without doing so, Benjy would not get the justice he deserved, and whoever was responsible would get away with outright murder.
That was something Alastor would not stand for.
"Constant vigilance," he murmured to himself as he leaned on the staff he had procured.
It had been in the works since he'd been fitted for his leg and certainly helped make him more mobile, even if he was yet to reach the age at which he should be relying on such a thing to assist him with his walking.
"How does it feel?" the Healer asked.
"It's not bad."
The woman rolled her eyes at him but offered Alastor a fond smile.
"You'll get used to it. Besides, I think it makes you look rather dashing."
Alastor released a bark of laughter.
"With most of my nose missing and the damned wooden leg, dashing is something I will never be."
The Healer quirked an eyebrow at him.
"You know, there are some of us that quite like a rugged man. You should remember that Auror Moody."
She left the room, and Alastor followed only a moment later, frowning at the dull thud emitting from his prosthetic leg with every other step he took.
(Break)
Harry waited patiently as he watched Bellatrix read through the essay he had completed. A frown creased her brow as she did so, and when she was done, she placed it in front of her and adopted a thoughtful expression.
"You're very critical of the Fidelius Charm," she pointed out.
Harry nodded.
"As a charm, it is quite brilliant," he conceded, "but as a means of protection, it is deeply flawed. It relies on trust, and when it comes to protective magic, putting your faith in trust can be a fatal mistake. I prefer approaches that rely on me and not on another. People change, and people can be bribed or coerced. The Fidelius Charm is good at preventing the latter of these things, but it remains as flawed as ever when the entirety of the effectiveness depends on putting your life in the hands of someone else."
"When you put it like that I get it," Bellatrix replied. "It doesn't seem like such a good idea."
"It isn't," Harry sighed. "Now, if you consider blood magic, you are tapping into the power of your own blood to protect yourself, a property, or even an object. It is extremely difficult to overcome and is usually powered by intent-based magic. For example, if you place adequate blood protections around your home, the magic itself can read and detect the intention of anyone trying to enter. If they mean you harm, that magic will react quite spectacularly."
"But isn't it illegal to have them?"
"Only if you get caught, and blood wards are not something that are easily detected. Also, the Ministry of Magic have to find your house first, and even then, them accessing it is almost impossible. Our laws are very flawed."
Bellatrix laughed amusedly.
"What does your future wife have to say about your law-breaking?"
Harry shrugged.
"I was breaking the law the first time we met and just never really stopped," he mused aloud. "I think she'd be worried if I wasn't causing trouble."
"And they let you be in charge of educating our future generation."
"That's on Professor Dumbledore," Harry defended. "He offered me the job. I didn't apply for it, and funnily enough, it was my law-breaking that got his attention."
"We live in a crazy world," Bellatrix sighed. "Dark Lords and law-breaking professors. What next?"
Harry frowned as he recognised an approaching, familiar presence, two of them together, and he knew it could only mean trouble.
"I don't know but I think we are about to find out," he murmured.
Bellatrix appeared to be confused, though only a moment later, a knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," Harry called.
As he'd anticipated, Dumbledore entered the classroom with Cassiopeia Black in tow.
"Aunt Cassie!" Bellatrix greeted her excitedly. "What are you doing here?"
Seeing Cassiopeia's rather grave countenance, the younger woman became concerned.
"It's alright, Bella," Cassiopeia assured her. "I just need to speak with Professor Jameson. Why don't you run along and we can spend the afternoon together when I'm done here."
Bellatrix looked towards him worriedly and Harry nodded.
"Go on, and remember, you have an essay due to me on Friday. Take this one and use it as an example."
She said nothing else as she gathered her things and left, and Harry waited until the door was closed before shifting his attention to his visitors.
"What's happened?" he asked.
Albus had already informed him of Benjy Fenwick's fate and Harry had already visited The Leaky Cauldron to see for himself if there were any identifiable traces of magic.
He found two, and both belonged to men he was more familiar with than he'd ever wanted to be.
Harry intended on visiting them shortly, though it appeared that once again his efforts to be rid of Tom Riddle would be delayed.
"You're in imminent danger, Jameson," Cassiopeia said severely. "I cannot say how I know but Abernathy and Berg are going to be coming for you and Evans. They have already instructed their men."
"Then they will die."
Cassiopeia shook her head.
"Jameson, Abernathy's men are not like any others you've faced. They have the very best training from all over the world. You must take this threat seriously."
He'd never seen Cassiopeia Black show any sign of real concern, not even when they'd been in the Ministry in Spain in which she'd been captive.
"Miss Black, I can assure you that I take any threat made against me as seriously as anything, but that doesn't change what the outcome will be. They will die and then Abernathy will have no protection. He will follow shortly."
Cassiopeia eyed him critically for a moment before nodding.
"Very well," she murmured. "I thought it best you knew what is coming for you."
"Thank you," Harry offered sincerely. "I will be ready for them."
"You'd better be," Cassiopeia sighed. "You cannot afford to make a mistake where they are concerned. They never fail in any mission given to them."
"There is a first and a last time for everything," Harry pointed out, already planning how he would combat what appeared to be such an elite force.
Before he did anything else, however, he needed to inform Evans of the latest development.
Perhaps the Serpent may even have a few suggestions.
He would find out soon enough.
"If there is anything I can do, Harry, you need only ask," Albus broke in.
"I appreciate it, but I expect that what is going to happen is something you do not want to be involved in, Albus."
The headmaster nodded his understanding as he wore an expression of concern.
"Then we shall leave you to do what you must, but the offer remains."
Harry offered the man a smile of gratitude, though it faded as the duo left his classroom, and he allowed the anger bubbling beneath the surface to emerge.
Abernathy was in for a rude awakening.
Of that, Harry had no doubt.
(Break)
"My men are ready to move," Abernathy informed Sebastien. "They know their job, and they will do it. Berg's men have arrived also."
Sebastien nodded as he took a sip of his whiskey.
"They must not fail."
"My men do not fail."
Abernathy's head vanished from the fireplace, and Sebastien loosened his tie.
It would be an apprehensive wait until he received news that Jameson was dead.
Sebastien hoped that with one of the duo eliminated, the Serpent would yield and simply fade back into the obscurity he had been living in over the last couple of decades.
The two of them had caused unspeakable damage to all the work Sebastien and his colleagues had achieved, and it had to end.
Abernathy did not seem to be concerned, but for the most part, he'd been distanced from all that had unfolded.
He'd not witnessed what Jameson and Evans were capable of, and Sebastien hoped his American counterpart was not being dismissive of the threat the two of them posed.
It could be to all of their detriments, and Sebastien had no intention of seeing the empire they'd built crumble before his eyes.
"You seem concerned."
Sebastien nodded as Manon took the seat opposite him. He poured her a glass of liquor, and she took a sip.
"What are you thinking?"
"I am thinking that we may well have to implement our contingency plan if this goes wrong," Sebastien murmured.
"Is it truly so dire?"
"It is," Sebastien said grimly. "Jameson and Evans are not mere men. They are monsters of the very worst kind. Neither would hesitate to slit your throat in your sleep. You saw what happened to your nephew."
Manon's expression darkened.
"What is the contingency plan?"
"We leave," Sebastien answered. "I already have everything in place if that outcome is unavoidable."
Manon said nothing for a moment as she finished her drink and stood.
"Then we'd best hope that Abernathy and his men are successful."
She placed a kiss on his cheek and left the study, leaving a thoughtful and tense Sebastien to his thoughts.
He had a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, a niggling fear that something was soon to go terribly wrong.
(Break)
Evans was pacing back and forth in the basement, a frown of concentration marring his features. Harry had explained what Cassiopeia had told him, and though he didn't trust the woman, he could not see why she would be trying to lure him down a false path.
Even Evans seemed to be reluctant to disbelieve her.
"Grindelwald had a way of knowing things," he sighed. "Things that he had no business knowing. There were whispers that he had a spymaster of sorts, but nothing was ever substantiated. I believe he did. There was just something almost supernatural about how he seemed to know these things."
"A spymaster?"
Evans nodded severely.
"He knew things he shouldn't, and he'd never been anywhere close to where that information could've been gathered. I suspect this spymaster is back."
"And working for Grindelwald? What's in it for them?"
Evans shrugged.
"I don't know, but it would be foolish to ignore the threat. Now, the question is, what do we do?"
Harry released a deep breath.
"I don't know."
"Well, I have a plan, but I don't think you're going to like it."
Harry frowned and gestured for the man to continue.
"They know where this house is," Evans pointed out. "They found it before, and I can only imagine they will do it again. They're not going to attack Hogwarts, not with Dumbledore as the headmaster. It's too risky, so the only other option is that they will come here."
Harry nodded his agreement and Evans grinned, similar to the way he suspected he did when he was plotting something both reckless and ridiculous.
"Harry, are you home?"
It was Amelia's voice that pulled him from his thoughts, and he even managed a sincere smile as the woman entered the kitchen.
"You look very happy about something," he commented. "I don't know whether or not that is a good thing for me."
"That depends on if you think you can survive without me for the weekend," Amelia said sheepishly.
"A whole weekend? Whatever will I do? Is there any particular reason you are abandoning me for so long?"
"It's for the wedding."
"And let me guess, it involves you wandering off to a beautiful city somewhere."
'It does."
Harry chuckled as he held up a hand.
"You don't need to explain," he assured her. "Here, take this."
Amelia tutted as she looked in the small bag he'd handed her.
"Jameson, I don't need your gold."
"I know, but I'd rather you took it, just in case."
"Just in case?"
"You might see something you really want."
Amelia shook her head.
"In the last two years, I've barely touched a galleon of my salary. You don't let me pay for anything."
"Well, if I knew you were so flush…"
Amelia shot him a pointed look.
"Fine," Harry conceded as he took the bag back. "Where are you going?"
"Italy."
Harry nodded appreciatively.
"I can see why that would appeal more than spending a weekend with me."
"It really is."
"And the wound gets deeper," Harry huffed dramatically. "Honestly, it will be nice for you to get away. You deserve it."
Amelia offered him a smile before making her way out of the kitchen.
"I need to pack," she declared.
Harry released a deep breath when he was alone once more.
He'd miss Amelia, but he had more than enough to keep his mind occupied.
With what was all but on his doorstep, it made it easier that the woman would be away, though Harry didn't know how he would explain what happened when she returned.
"Bloody Evans," he muttered.
The man's idea was admittedly brilliant, but Harry was not pleased by it, and he suspected Amelia would be less so.
Still, he wasn't going to take the threat against them lightly, not when it was so apparent.
Nonetheless, he would continue to curse Evans for coming up with such a diabolical and exceptional plan.
"I'm just about ready to leave," Amelia announced as she entered the room once more.
Harry stood up to greet her and pulled the woman into his arms.
"Have fun," he urged.
Amelia nodded sadly and placed a kiss on his lips.
"I'll miss not sleeping next to you," she murmured.
"It's a definite improvement from when you detested me."
"I never detested you," Amelia denied. "You just used to test my patience. Some things never change, Jameson."
"True," Harry snorted, knowing he would be living up to that declaration soon enough.
"I'll be back Monday morning," Amelia assured him, giving him a final kiss before vanishing through the fireplace.
With her gone, Harry began the many preparations he needed to complete, and once more, he cursed the other Harry, even if he was anticipating the chaos that would ensue soon enough.
Not that what was imminent was all that was on his mind.
Nott and Mulciber.
Harry had certainly not forgotten about the two of them, and neither had the other Harry.
Once more he smirked at the plan they'd formulated, even if he was reluctant to go through with it.
(Break)
He turned sharply as he sensed something nearby and frowned when he found the Cornish street to be empty. With a shake of his head, he released a deep breath.
Living through war was tiresome enough, but given the clandestine nature of his role, it made it only more stressful.
He wholeheartedly supported the Dark Lord, even if doing so wasn't easy.
"Who's there?" he demanded as he drew his wand.
Again, there was no one, and instead of remaining where he was, he apparated away to give his report.
"Nott," the Dark Lord greeted him as he entered the study. "You seem rather unsettled."
"It's nothing, my lord," Nott assured the man. "Following Meadowes hasn't been easy."
"So, you haven't a way of reaching her?"
"I have, my lord, but as expected, it will not be easy. Her home is protected by exceptional magic and will be all but impenetrable without causing quite a ruckus. I fear that reinforcements will arrive before the protections can be breached."
The Dark Lord frowned.
"Then we must wait until she leaves," he said thoughtfully. "You have done well, Nott."
"Thank you, my lord."
With that, he took his leave, opting to take the floo directly home rather than apparate.
Even so, when he arrived in his own study, the same eerie feeling that he was being watched returned, and the lord of the manor peered out of the window into the darkness, certain there was someone out there observing him as he went about his business.
(Break)
"When do you move?" Abernathy asked impatiently.
"Tomorrow. We cannot do so any sooner. It will take considerable time to break through the protections. We will arrive at the property line tonight, lay low, and begin work when we are certain he is at Hogwarts. This is not an operation to be rushed."
Abernathy's nostrils flared, but he nodded his understanding.
He would sooner his men were thorough and successful than hasty and failed in their efforts.
"Very well," he murmured.
He was by no means a nervous man, but when dealing with the likes of Jameson, who were seemingly capable of unleashing hell itself upon him, it was more than a little unsettling, to say the least.
(Break)
He'd become rather adept at stalking his targets from the shadows. From when he was but a boy, it had been Harry who'd been the prey of such men: Voldemort, Quirrell, Crouch…, but now, the shadows were his home.
During his short-lived campaign against Grindelwald, he'd become a master of disguise, and he'd go as far as to say that there was likely no other who was able to conceal themselves so well.
It was serving him well now, especially because time truly was of the essence.
The plan he and Jameson had conducted would be a reminder to Abernathy, Laurent, and the others that there was nothing they were not willing to do to see the end to them.
Even if the other Harry was not as thrilled by their plan as he was, it still brought a mischievous smirk to his lips, though it faded as he watched his target leaving the seedy pub in Knockturn Alley.
For as involved in Riddle's ploy as some of the prominent members of wizarding Britain were, they lacked the ability to keep a low profile.
They were too comfortable in their roles, somehow feeling assured that their identities remained unknown.
Their laxity would be to their detriment, and the man he followed towards the apparation point a short distance away would become an example of their foolishness.
Edging closer to him the nearer they came, he remained unaware of his presence, and Harry's grip tightened around the object he carried.
There would be no magic cast, and so long as he timed it right, anyone potentially looking on would not suspect a thing.
A dull thud echoed around the street as he struck, and before his target could hit the floor, Harry caught him in his arms and immediately apparated away, breathing a sigh of relief as he arrived in the basement.
"You managed it then?" Jameson asked amusedly.
Harry nodded, fighting the urge to yawn.
It had been a long day for them both.
It had been spent accumulating what they would need for their plan to unfold as intended.
Managing to take Mulciber was just an added bonus, and the man deserved more than what was coming for his part in the murder of Benjy Fenwick.
"What now?" Harry asked.
"Now the real work begins," Jameson murmured thoughtfully, his gaze sweeping around the length and breadth of his basement.
(Break)
It was rather strange how the magical district of Milan was so busy; the people here were either unaware or uncaring about what was happening in Britain.
Although Italy was not so far away, especially for witches and wizards, it couldn't be any more different than the English capital, which was as daunting, depressing, and devoid of life as it had ever been.
In Milan, the streets were full, vibrant, and oozing with life.
"It makes you realise just how bad it has gotten at home, doesn't it?" Jenny sighed.
Amelia nodded.
"Let us hope it is all over soon."
"It will be," Jenny said reassuringly. "Besides, this is your short break away from all of that. What would you like to shop for first?"
"You're going to make me try on dresses, aren't you?"
"I am, but I wanted you to think you were being given a choice."
Amelia rolled her eyes at her friend.
"Fine, we will look for dresses."
Jenny squealed and all but dragged her from the hotel they were staying in, granting Amelia barely a moment to put on her shoes before she once more found herself on the streets of Milan, her mind far away from the problems back home as she allowed herself a moment of excitement to plan her wedding.
(Break)
All was quiet.
On the job they'd been given, such silence was a blessing, and only the sounds of nature, the distant flow of a stream, and the gentle whispering of the Cursebreakers could be heard.
For the better part of seventeen hours, they had been grafting, identifying, and bypassing every magical protection around the property.
Were it not for the knowledge of the house being within, it would have been near impossible to find, and the most experienced man with them had found what seemed to be the only thread leading to the rest of the protections.
They were plentiful, each one as obscure and as dangerous as its predecessor, but they were each experts, and between them, they had yet to meet anything they couldn't manipulate, remove, or destroy.
Jameson had been meticulous indeed, and his efforts were testing the group to the very limits.
Still, they would not be deterred.
Failure simply was not an option, and when they were done with what they'd been sent to achieve, each of them would be rich beyond their wildest dreams.
"More gold than you could ever hope to spend," Abernathy assured him, sliding a slip of parchment across the desk.
He frowned as he read the figure.
Usually, he would be delighted, but given the willingness to pay so much, he had many questions.
"Who is this man?"
"One dangerous enough to warrant such a fee. That is all you need to know."
With only minimal enquiries, he'd discovered that Jameson was a prominent figure in magical Britain, that he was the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts, and that his achievements were not negligible.
Perhaps the most cautionary information he'd uncovered had come from two of his Norwegian comrades who'd been here once before, both recounting their own experiences.
It was sobering to hear what had happened to half of that team, and those with them seemed to be so under protest.
Still, his team simply did not fail, and this endeavour would be no different.
"What is taking so long?" one of the Norwegians demanded.
"Do you want to die?" one of the Americans whispered harshly. "Because if you do, keep rushing us. Thankfully for you, we are almost done. It's just one last layer and then the blood protections."
"Blood protections?" the Norwegian gasped. "Unless you know…"
"We know," the American insisted. "Now, shut up, or you will be joining Jameson and Bones."
The Norwegian said nothing else, but it was clear he was uncomfortable.
Fortunately, his colleague's prediction proved to be true because it was only a short while later that he released a deep breath of relief as he removed a device from within his robes.
"Now, this will give me control of the blood wards," he explained. "From there, we will be able to see and know all that we need to proceed."
He carefully manipulated the rectangular device until it glowed an ominous red, and as a test of his success, he drew his wand.
The man was nervous, and his hand trembled, but he steeled himself.
"Homenum Revelio," he whispered.
There was a slight delay, but he nodded satisfactorily.
"Two," he confirmed. "There are two people in the house."
"So, it's safe to go in?" the Norwegian asked hopefully.
"As safe as fighting an accomplished wizard and an Auror," the American snorted. "No, we do not even need to use our wands for this. Watch and learn."
Tapping the device with his wand once more, a sudden magical surge rippled across the land they stood upon, and a sudden, short scream could be heard from the sizeable home in the distance.
"And that is how it is done," the American chuckled.
"They're dead?"
"Killed by their own protections."
The Norwegian did not seem to believe him, and the American shook his head.
"Yes, of course, we will be checking," he confirmed. "I am certain."
"Best to be as cautious as possible," the Norwegian urged.
The Americans agreed, and all thirty of them in attendance made their way towards the house in an evenly spread formation, taking nothing for granted.
"My spell is returning no signs of life from the home."
Having seized control of the protections, none would've been able to apparate away nor could they have used the floo network or a portkey.
It seemed that their venture had indeed been as successful as the many others they'd undertaken, and as they entered the home to be confronted by nothing save for the silence they'd endured throughout the day, the excitement and relief within the group became palpable.
"They're in here!"
He raced towards where he'd heard the voice and descended the stairs into the basement to find two bodies on the floor waiting to be discovered.
Upon doing so, he paused, and a deep frown creased his brow.
"Wait!" he whispered before his colleagues could celebrate. "That isn't Jameson or Bones!"
He'd seen photos of both, and neither of the men was Harry Jameson and certainly not a redheaded woman.
The sudden gravity of the situation fell heavily upon his shoulders. As he turned to look at his colleagues, he spotted a red envelope drifting from the ceiling.
It opened to form a pair of lips curled in a mocking grin.
"BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME!"
It stuck out a tongue of ribbon and blew a raspberry just as the ground beneath their feet began to tremble.
"You said there were no other protections!" one of the Norwegians hissed angrily.
"There are no other magical protections!"
(Break)
Hour upon hour, they had laid in wait for the inevitable breach, and Evans all but shook with gleeful anticipation as they watched the intruders approaching the house from beneath their cloaks.
They entered, and it was only a few moments later that they felt the rumbling of their plan coming to fruition.
The entire house and surrounding area exploded in a shower of brick, mortar, wood, and undoubtedly, dismembered limbs.
Evans clapped Harry on the shoulder in joy as he laughed at what had befallen the would-be killers.
"I told you it would work," he proclaimed. "It was a stroke of genius to use muggle explosives. I knew they wouldn't look for them."
Harry snorted humourlessly as he looked upon the enormous crater he'd called home for the past years.
He loved his house and had painstakingly made it into a haven he was deeply proud of.
"Come on, you can get another house," Evans comforted. "I know what it's like to lose a home but look at it this way: you get to start over in a place no one will be able to find."
Harry nodded, though he could not ignore the stab of sadness at having to destroy his home.
"I know," he sighed, "but you're not the one who has to explain to his future wife why he had to blow up their house."
Evans winced and gave him a nod of sympathy.
"Drink? I'm buying."
"I think I need one," Harry huffed. "Come on, I know a really nice muggle pub I used to go to."