It was pitch dark. Even though he could not see anything, the scents and smells of the outdoors were very familiar to him. And the sound of water nearby, the bite of the chilly breeze, it was all piecing together. As if completing a circuit, all of his senses flicked on one after the other, his eyes finally adjusting to the darkness.
Even through all the odds, he was still alive.
Harry Potter sat up slowly, surveying his surroundings. All he knew for certain was that he was at the base of a mountain valley, silt and muddy water dried up into a thick layer of dust on his ministry uniform. Water lapped gently at his favourite horntail boots, and looking down, he grimaced as he could feel that there was a nasty infection in his feet. How long was he out of it? Taking out his Ministry enhanced mobile phone to check for the date, he cursed as water seeped out of the plastic housing, rendering it useless.
Harry swore loudly, throwing it away. His clothes felt like a nightmare against his skin, and he knew that he looked a complete mess. Dragging himself up on the pebbly bank out of the water’s edge, he waved his hand and his boots were thrown off. Harry gasped in shock as a sharp pain ran up his legs and into his spinal cord. He could have sworn some skin also went with the sodden socks that stuck to the inside of the dragon hide boots.
Hissing painfully, he looked at his ankles, and the nasty colour of his feet. How long had he been drifting in the lake? How come he was still alive? He knew from experience that after he released that tremendous amount of raw magic to do the Ultima curse, he was usually out for at least three to five days. For him to awake now after drifting for who-knows-how-long, relatively unharmed and breathing, was totally mind boggling.
He should have died.
But, as he thought about it, considering all the adventures and intense battles he has been in and he was not even eighteen as yet, this situation seemd laughable. If anything, he should have been dead ten times over already. Death by drowning seemed so… well, ordinary, in a sense.
Hell, Bellatrix Lestrange, wait- forget her- even Voldemort himself had cursed him to die, yet both times he survived. Without even realising it, he began to laugh. Softly at first, then it became loud and uninhibited to the point of being maniacal. Forgetting all about the painful swelling of his feet, he began to laugh; laugh aloud at himself: his fucking suicide job, his failing relationship with Hermione, his frequently increasing spells of completely no self-control; and to top it off- the mere fact that he was losing his mind and was so messed up inside that here he was, in the middle of nowhere in almost complete darkness; laughing about his worthless existence.
In his eyes, his whole life was just the funniest thing.
‘The Boy who Lived’; just cannot die.
After he had exhausted himself laughing about this latest discovery, he spread his arms and legs in a wide ‘x’, creating a disfigured snow angel in the mud and silt deposited on the bank. After a moment of just staring up in the sky, Harry blinked once, and his eyes began to glow. With a stupid grin on his face, he watched as the sickly blue tinge of his toes disappeared, and after a couple of minutes, was completely healed.
He sighed. Picking up his prized, but ruined; horntail boots, he looked at his desolate surroundings.
Time to go.
The air around him was immediately sucked in, then he felt the now familiar yank behind his navel and he was gone.
“YES! My faithful, how we have come far! Far into the realm of God, far off from this world of mortal flesh and selfish desires! Our moment is near! Behold!”
Rebecca Lestrange hated these types. She could at least give some credit to wizards who tried to rally the support of other wizards, and form a following to gather around them in mutual respect or perverted admiration, but for a wizard to identify himself as the messiah to unsuspecting muggles was just low. Dressed in a shapeless gown like the other hundreds of cult followers here, she had finally found Terrence Almahazar, a convict from Azkaban who single-handedly had Edinburgh’s suicide rate up to a record high.
Sol and Steven were also around, and had already set the anti-apparation wards around the building’s perimeter. It was her job as their top marksman, (or markswoman as they teased her), to make it an efficient and quiet kill. However, as it so happens, he was not having any ‘private blessings’ this evening. Many women had their share of ‘private blessings’, although, tragically, it was the last thing they ever did. The strange thing about Almahazar, was that he wasn’t a regular wizard by any means. He thrived in the muggle world. He lived for the adoration. He thrived on the ugliness of man. His fetish was trying out all of the most illegal and morally disgusting practices of the modern age, and exploiting it tenfold with his command of magic.
Immigrant slavery, murder, sadomasochistic torture, drugs, child prostitution, even genocide, you name it- he had done it.
Now this new gig, being the so-called long awaited Child of God, the second coming of the Christ- had sparked a lot of interest by the Ministry of Magic. But it wasn’t so straightforward. They couldn’t simply put a warrant for his arrest. The people here adored him, and as far as the muggle authorities were concerned, they couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Any sort of public arrest or sudden disappearance would inevitably make him a martyr, and may provoke even more violence. Unfortunately for the authorities on both sides of the magical fence, there was no direct link between him and the countless, and supposedly random, suicides taking the city by storm.
Henceforth, since conventional methods were out, Diggory had sent the S.T.A.R. Elite to eliminate him. Rebecca inched a bit further into the crowd, disguised as one of the many followers. Her eyes narrowed in focus. Here they were: in a god-forsaken place in the middle of nowhere; everything was set in place, albeit they were two men short. It didn’t bother her that Malfoy was on a Secret Black Op, the less she saw him, the better; but Harry hasn’t been seen or heard from for a few days now.
Where was he?
“-This bread represents my body- it shall be given up for you-“
Rebecca cursed under her breath. The modified ‘Skeeter Bug’ in her ear needed some work. It felt uncomfortable sticking inside of her ear. “ Warshire, you make the call. I’m good to go.”
“And this wine- represents my blood-“ The hundreds raised their empty wineglasses, and they were immediately filled.
“How much longer are we going to watch this? I’m fifteen feet away. It would be quick.” Rebecca spat. Harry’s absence was making her quite on edge.
“I said ‘No’, soldier!” Warshire crackled in her ear.
“What are we waiting for?” she hissed.
“DeFontaine is still trying to counter-charm the wine. He’s going to put everyone here to sleep- but Almahazar’s pretty good- hold on while he tries to crack it. Sol will give me the signal if he gets it to work. So sit tight.”
“Affirmative,” Rebecca sighed, her fingers closing and opening rhythmically on the handle of her assassin’s blade. It took her a few weeks to get accustomed holding it again; after all, this self same weapon was used on her when she was captured. Those three days at St. Mungo’s were absolute hell.
..If it weren’t for Harry and his girlfriend…
Suddenly, the person in front of her stumbled, then fell headfirst. All around her, one by one, the cult followers began passing out into a deep slumber. Even before she heard the command, she sprang into action.
Sprinting forward, she borrowed the shoulder of the man in front of her and using his massive bulk as leverage, vaulted on top of the stage. Wordlessly, she used her magic to fling away the podium between her and Almahazar. Almahazar, caught off guard, dropped his ‘Holy Grail, the wine spilling all over the smooth tiles. Realizing that his apparation spell wasn’t working, he forze in fear as Lestrange charged him head on, a deadly blade glinting in her right hand. But her self-confidence was her undoing. As luck would have it, she stepped directly into the puddle and slipped. Before she knew it, she was sliding feet first towards Almahazar, who had already drawn his wand, and had her lined up. A flash of light later, she was vaulted upside down into the air, her legs flailing wildly under the Levicorpus spell.
“Shit-“ she swore, looking into the slightly deranged eyes of Almahazar. Sol and Steven wouldn’t be able to make it in time. This was it- she was about to die…
She clenched her eyes shut, expecting it to be quick. Suddenly, the spell was released, and she fell in a heap.
Before her very eyes slashes began to appear across Almahazar’s face and arms, blood staining the immaculate white robes he wore. Almahazar fell face forward, his gashed face a mere foot in front of hers. She had seen carnage in her young years before, but this particular curse, in it’s sheer intimacy, was even more horrifying up close.
There was a movement of someone coming out of the shadows on her left, and she couldn’t believe her eyes. Almahazar was going into shock, his eyes dilating and tremors racked his body so hard that his teeth rattled. There was a disgusting sound of bowels slackening, and a fetid stench swamped Rebecca’s nose. Harry Potter stepped calmly forward, then stooped down, speaking softly in the mutilated man’s ear
“I can stop this. But first, do you know the whereabouts of a man called Rodulphus Lestrange?”
“Yes.. God above yes! Stop th- is...I beg -“ he gasped, blood leaking out of his mouth.
“Where?” he demanded.
“W-wales…four miles south of Cardiff-“ his slashed throat released a bubble of blood. “Reck-Reckinshire Manor …“ he gurgled, his shredded fingers twitching as they came up to touch the open wounds on his face. “Help.. me…”
“Lestrange, let’s go,” Harry said, and walked off the platform. “The M.A.R.S. Division will be here shortly. It seems the Anti-apparition wards worked too well. They need a landmark.”
“er Harry, what- how?” Rebecca sputtered, looking at Almahazar gasping for his last breath. “Wait- aren’t you going to help him?” Harry did not even glance back at him.
“I don’t know the counter curse.”
Rebecca’s eyes bulged, but she did not object. Sol and Steven were making their way through the multitudes of sleeping muggles, secretly hesitating coming too close to their squad leader. He did not appear to be in the best of moods right now. With one last pitiful glance at the dying man, she regained her composure and all four of them wordlessly made their way out of the modified warehouse. When they were back out in the deceptively calm afternoon, DeFontaine finally got the nerve to ask what they were all thinking.
“Where the fuck have you been, Potter?” Sol asked, lighting up.
“I send you three to deal with one mediocre wizard weeks ago, and you fuck this up. What if she was killed?” Harry spat, nodding over his shoulder.
“Hey! I’ll gladly do my job and take the risks!” Rebecca countered, her temper rising. Harry ignored her.
“Warshire- what were you waiting for? Didn’t you know that the water-into-wine spell he uses is poisoned? Did you find a thrill in waiting for the last moment?”
“I didn’t want the muggles to see us–“
“Your mission was to find him, and then dispatch of him in a timely manner. Don’t wait until he’s surrounded by potential hostages then act; for Christ’s sake. The next time I have to come and clean up your shit- or any of you for that matter-“ Harry ranted, then suddenly broke himself off. “Fuck.” Harry swore. “Forget it. Just forget it.”
There was a stony silence as Harry just walked off and ran his hands through his hair, his frustration building in waves. He stalked off a bit further, kicking a bottle idly, as if just by doing that, he could simply put this whole episode behind him. A whole fucking week. Seven days he could not account for. And the moment he steps into the office the following morning he gets a strong feeling that someone is going to die.
Someone he knows.
He cursed. Since when did he get premonitions like this? And his instincts led him here, to the very spot where it was going to happen. Remembering the reason he exited the building, he outstretched his hand and the plastic coca-cola bottle came zooming into his palm. Right- the M.A.R.S. crew is awaiting confirmation. Pulling out his wand, he rapped it smartly and dropped it. Jeez…what a day.
As if on cue, twelve wizards and two witches apparated around the Portkey. Well, he got half of his premonition right. Someone did die just now. Just not someone he knew.
“Commander Potter,” Sean Creevy acknowledged. “They’re inside?”
“Yes.” Well it was close. Rebecca could have been killed in action. Fortunately, he knew how to do the ‘porting spell accurately now. And luckily for Warshire and DeFontaine- he was the one doing the killing, instead of that lunatic. If Rebecca had died because of these two men… he didn’t know what he’d do.
“Have your potions masters fix something up. It’s poison mixed with a Sleeping Draught in their blood stream. Hopefully, you have about thirty minutes before they die.” Harry nodded grimly. “No need to keep the corpse. Vanish him.”
“Well lads, let’s get to work,” Sean added, and the squad of fourteen entered the building. Warshire stepped forward, his head held high, knowing that the mission was nearly a disaster.
“Commander, I accept that I was incompetent. If you so wish, I will request to be dismissed in the morning.”
“Request denied,” Harry sighed. He looked directly at Rebecca, who was standing apart from everyone, her gaze fixated on a distant point on the horizon. Her arms were wrapped around her torso, her eyes bright with restrained tears. Almahazar’s blood was splattered across her face and robes, but she didn’t even seem to notice. Without even looking at the three others, she simply walked away. Harry's insides twisted with anguish. It was that close. “Just...just...be more careful next time. Okay?”
“Sol, Steven, mission accomplished,” Harry said, even though it was understood. “I’m sure your wives are missing you after your two-week absence. Go on home,” Harry said.
“What about Becky?” Sol ventured. Harry looked off in her direction, squinting as the sun dropped lower in the sky. A gust flew past, picking up a cloud of dust in the abandoned factory town. Hell, the whole place felt dead, a desolate place smack dab in the middle of nowhere.
“I’ll give her some time, then probably drop her home. She looks pretty shaken up.”
“Fuck man- you scared the shit out of her. The Sectumsempra curse? Why didn’t you just Kedavra his ass and be done with it?” Sol argued.
“I don’t know how to do that curse yet,” Harry said calmly.
Both men stared. “You can't be serious,” Sol retorted. “We’ve seen your credentials. I hear there is a freaking lot of land reserved in St. Martin’s for dead Death Eaters because of you. What is this shit I’m hearing about not being able to do the Killing curse?”
“I don’t. Just drop it, okay?” Harry complained. “Get outta here. Or do you want to stay and help Creevey and the others??” Harry raised an eyebrow.
“Fuck this shit, I’m off.” and with that last bout of profanity, Sol disappeared with a pop.
Warshire came closer to Harry, and put a fatherly hand on his shoulder. “You’re one hell of a soldier. This is what we do, and there’s a reason that we’re the only ones who can do it. Remember that.” A second later, and he was gone as well. Well, only one more to go. For some reason, seeing Rebecca held upside down at her captor’s mercy, was too much. Even if Almahazar wasn’t a serial paedophile rapist, or didn’t create snuff movies with his select “Chosen”, just attacking Rebecca was enough to end his worthless existence.
The world was better off without him anyway.
Now it was just to persuade Rebecca that very same thing.
For a couple of seconds, Harry simply froze. He had no clue what to do next. Put him in a fight, and it’s easy. Put him alone with an emotional woman, and it’s a nightmare.
“Rebecca?” he called, walking up behind her.
“What?” she said, irritated.
“It’s okay. We got him,” he said, trying to put as much calm into his voice. “We can –“
“It’s not ‘we’ and you damn well know it, Harry.” She turned on him, her eyes red, on the verge of tears. “It was you. Always was.
“No, I don’t know what it is about you two, you and Malfoy, but you make us, well me, feel like I'm worthless. How many times have I been just the stupid 'damsel in distress'?” Rebecca snapped. “I just- I don’t know, I feel like I’m just not cut out for this...”
“Don’t say that, we’ve only started working together-“
“And already Malfoy is doing Top secret operations and you have the minister’s ear in your pocket. Can’t you see, Harry? You don’t need us!” She indicated the warehouse behind them. “Two weeks of infiltration and intelligence gathering, today’s the day we execute, and we blew it. I blew it,” she said in a self-loathing manner. “He had me strung up like a doll- so stupid, slipping at the most inopportune moment-”
“I’ve never seen you being hung upside down by some half-assed narcissist! Next to you, I feel so- so.. inferior. I always feel, not up to your standard. And that’s weird for me, because I thought I was a perfectionist. I thought I was good at my job.”
“You are, it’s just sometimes we’ve got to deal with the unexpected-“ Rebecca raised her hand, stopping him.
“I don’t even know what to say to you anymore.” She cut him off. “I’m torn between wanting to thank you for saving my life- again- but I also want to scream at you for making me look like a fool in front of the others. I don’t know, Potter, but I think you’re just too good at this. Look at you, not one bloody scratch, or sprinkle of blood, or for crying out loud- not even a wrinkle on your robes!” She looked down at herself, and the mixture of wine, blood and dirt making her white robes look like a painter’s cleanup rag. “What are you? Do you have some lucky talisman you wear all the time? Is this-“ she raised both arms in exasperation- “just a piece of cake to you?”
Harry just stared at her, his face hardening. “No. It’s not.”
“Could have fooled me. You pop out of nowhere and nearly dissected him into five pieces. Couldn’t have planned it better myself.” She said in a mocking tone. “Don’t you feel anything, Mr. Roboto?”
“Watch your mouth, Rebecca. You don’t know a thing about what I’ve been through, and the dead that haunt me,” he said softly. “Remember what I said on the train? I couldn’t escape this even if I tried. I decided it’s better I just face this head on, instead of running away. If this is what I’m good at, well, whatever. Don’t make it seem like it’s all easy for me to be doing this. I have a lot of shit going on, and this line of work isn’t helping me deal with it.”
“So why would you take the job if you’re so against it?”
“This whole…campaign, war- whatever you call it. I am largely to blame for it even happening. So I swore to Hermione, and everyone on that train- that I would not stop until they are safe.”
“You to blame? What are you talking about?” Rebecca asked, utterly confused. Harry looked at her, and decided then and there he would tell her. But first, he needed an oath of secrecy. Taking of his scarf, he asked for her forearm. She extended it, a puzzled expression on her face. Harry grasped her hand in his, and wrapped the scarf around both of their wrists, gripping her thumb in a firm hold.
“I’m going to tell you something than can cause a lot of trouble if leaked. Will you promise to keep it a secret?”
Rebecca looked into his green eyes, and nodded. “Yes.”
“After I faced Voldemort- Malfoy disappeared. Dumbledore had cast a charm that modified the entire school’s memories of him, because he thought that Malfoy was a very dangerous threat. When I found out what he had done , I was pretty angry about it, and wanted a few er, well, ‘select’ words. As my luck would have it, Diggory kicked me out of school that same day, with the whole Auror fiasco at Hogwarts. Eventually, I found out that Ash had ordered Malfoy to rot in Azkaban.”
“Too bad some overzealous idiot went and destroyed Azkaban, we wouldn’t have to see his face-“ Rebecca broke off; her eyes opening almost double in size. As if a bulb had been switched on, it came to her. The unofficial report stated that damage coincided with the blast radius of the Ultima curse...
“Oh my god! It was you!”
“Yes. Malfoy risked everything more than once to save my life, and I was honour bound to rescue him. Unfortunately, I lost control. I used the Essence of Muriad to protect me from the dementors, but at a high cost, I now feel- more…well …immune to this, the killing, the war. I don’t feel it as I used to.” He couldn't tell her about his hidden ability. He didn't think he could tell anyone what was really happening to him, not now, maybe not ever. This was close enough to the truth to suffice.
“I – can’t believe it,” Rebecca said softly, her expression dumbstruck. “It really was you.. Potter, you know something right? You just told me you single-handedly destroyed Azkaban. I heard it. From right there-“ she poked his lip playfully. “Who would have thought? The Ministry’s finest destroys Azkaban! And lets loose hundreds of lunatics!” Rebecca chuckled, but it wasn’t one of humour. She just couldn’t believe it. This man here was only seventeen.
“Yeah, funny isn’t it? It’s also very funny when I have twenty-eight dead haunting me every night. My mistake, twenty-nine. “ He indicated behind him.”You go ahead and laugh,” Harry said coldly, calmly unwrapping his scarf around their arms. “The spell is set. You’re my secret keeper, Lestrange. Remember that.”
Harry turned away, his heart heavy with his sins. And what made it even worse, he knew there would be more. It was inevitable. Walking back towards the warehouse, he left Lestrange standing by herself, too stunned to speak.
“Harry- I-“ she caught up to him, pulling his elbow so that he had to turn around. “I’m sorry-“ she said, wrapping her arms around him. Harry just stood there, caught off guard by this impromptu hug. “I didn’t know- it must have been horrible. So young…” she rest her head on his shoulder, her arms closely latching unto him beneath his cloak.
“Rebecca, er-“ Harry said, awkwardly touching her back. He wasn’t too sure how to tell her to let go. “Um, you can let go know, I’m fine, really.”
She tilted her head back, her eyes bright with tears. “No you’re not,” she said softly, moving a stray lock of hair away from his temple. “I-“ she trailed off. Slowly, ever so slowly, she placed her lips against his. Harry just stood there, not moving a muscle.
Her lips pressed a bit more meaningfully against him now, her eyes closing as she tasted his skin. When he didn’t respond initially, she opened her eyes halfway, searching his uncertain green ones. Pressing a bit closer unto him, she felt uncertainty; desire, reluctance, admiration, and sorrow swell up in her all at the same time. His breath played against her parted lips, and she asked ever so softly, almost pleading:
“Don’t you want me?”
Those words coursed through Harry- feeling like wildfire. Her touch, her lips, they way she felt against him was completely exhilarating, but inside he knew his heart belonged to another. However, he could not deny what he felt for this woman. He did want her.
Her eyes closed, and her lips parted to be kissed.
Harry did the only thing he could.
He kissed her.
She practically melted against him, her body language screaming submission and desire. Only when his hands rose to touch her face did he feel something wet against his fingertips. That sensation brought him back to reality.
Harry’s eyes flashed open, and he abruptly let her go. Rebecca touched where his fingers had grazed her cheek, and lowered her eyes solemnly.
“No man has ever shown me that he will fight, and will kill another, to protect me.” She said softly. “By this blood on our fingers, you prove once again that no matter what happened, you were there to save me. I don’t think it’s fair to expect anything more than camaraderie from you, but I will tell you this: I am forever indebted to you. And that’s a promise.”
She brushed her bloodstained fingertips against his in a fleeting touch, then began to chant, her eyes closed.
“Bound by blood, never to be broken. To those who rise against us, let there be no quarter given. Arms at the ready, let the trials begin, fate will hold us together, through love and through sin.”
Harry felt a sharp burn on his fingers and he immediately yanked back his hand. The blood had vanished, and he felt a strange feeling of a soft magical spell running through him.
“What did you do?” he asked vehemently.
“I have sworn in my promise through magic,” she stated, making the obvious even more obvious.
“I have cast a protective charm on you.” If you could call a life-debt ‘protection’.
“What? Why? Undo it!” Harry ordered.
“Can’t. It’s a one shot thing. A trait all of my bloodline knows, a single spell that has been inherited throughout generations of my family.”
“You gotta be joking. A Lestrange hereditary charm?” Harry stammered.
“Why not?” Rebecca teased, smiling at him.
“I have enough magic charms and ‘ancient this’ and ‘prophesised that’ going on as it is!”
Rebecca sauntered closer towards him, and looked at him defiantly in his eyes. “So?” and she then quickly pecked him on the lips. “Have another! Bye!” and with a last wink, she disapparated.
Harry cursed in frustration, grabbing handfuls of hair in his hands. “Fuck-Fuck- FUCK!” jumping and stamping his feet with the last one. What had he just done? And more importantly, what did Rebecca just do?
Three days later, Harry called an important meeting of the S.T.A.R. Elite at their ministry office. In his hand was a file folder of very important information. In it were updates on the two men on top of their list, Angelo Dorius Ash, otherwise known as Logan Ash, and Rodulphus Orion Lestrange, the man singly responsible for making Harry’s life a living nightmare.
Alongside Sol, Steven and Rebecca, (who he avoided eye contact with) all of them were waiting for their last member. After fifteen minutes had passed, Draco Malfoy walked in, taking off a heavy black cloak and carefully hanging it up on the coat rack. Without a word, he sat down at the round cards table and rocked back, propping his feet on the flat surface. After a tense silence where everyone was watching him as if he had no manners, or even any sort of respect for the rest of the team, he smirked.
“What? Expecting me to apologise?” Harry clenched his fist in irritation. Draco grinned at him. “Please, Lord Potter, you may begin,” he announced, offering him the floor in a grand gesture. “Even though whatever you say may be irrelevant now anyway,” Draco added under his breath.
“Irrelevant, you say?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “Unlike you, I’ve found out where Lestrange’s home is-“
“Bah! You could have asked Becky here that-“ Draco countered. Harry looked at him as if Malfoy was talking utter nonsense.
“He wouldn’t be so stupid to be at his parent’s house all this while, now would he?”
“Au contraire, my good captain,” Draco said calmly. “That is the difference between his way of thinking, and you. That is indeed his base of operations. However, for the past few weeks, he has been absent without leave, or so his butler says. I have some more important information, and guess what, it concerns both Ash and Lestrange. I –“ Draco smiled secretively, clearing his throat once again- “asked the help about his whereabouts. She seemed willing and able after, er- some minor persuasion, but couldn’t give me a place, per say, just something she overheard from the portraits… ” Draco shrugged.
“And what is that may I ask?” Harry said folding his arms.
“Both of them are working together and they’ve done something very, very sinister indeed. A terrible weapon, something even the Dark Lord himself could not create-“ Malfoy broke off, looking at each of them in turn. All of them leaned in a fraction, already caught by Draco’s report. Draco smiled.
After realising that he was intentionally keeping them waiting, Sol slammed his hand on the table.
“WELL?!” Sol shouted. “What the fuck is it? Goddammit!”
“Thought you’d never ask. Lestrange was quite a busybody over the course of this year, or so I’ve heard. I have from my er –“ he cleared his throat- “various sources, that apart from the Doppelganger Imperius curse that he and Antolin Doholov created, he’s gone and made something even more efficient; even more ingenious…“
Harry rolled his hands in a ‘keep going’ manner. Malfoy sighed, as if telling him all of this was too tiresome to really be bothered about.
“He’s created a very powerful spell, something Voldemort proposed but never completed- the Doppelganger Fidelus Curse. It’s an offshoot from the generations old War chant our good friend here-“ he pointed, “ Becky’s family created. But instead of just a one time use to someone they declare worth dying for, Rodulphus and Ash found a way to make one wizard spread it to another, who in turn would spread it to another, and then he to the next and so on- a viral curse- very crafty indeed...“
“Oh my god...no..” Rebecca breathed. He actually altered their bloodline magic?
“The catch is, whoever is cursed will wholeheartedly swear allegiance and unwavering loyalty to one man. Yes, you guessed it: her brother.” Draco tilted his head haughtily in her direction. “It's suposedly even more dangerous than the Imperius curse. Unwavering loyalty: worth dying for, worth killing for. Maybe one in a million chance you’d actually find someone with that much determination, now he’s actually created a formula to use whenever he wants.. Quite a feat.”
“We’ve got to find them-“ Harry declared. Draco put up his palm, indicating that Harry should take it easy.
“I’ve got that covered too,” Draco said as a matter of fact, inspecting his wand nonchalantly. Harry turned, looking at him expectantly. After a quiet moment which lasted nearly five seconds, he simply intertwined his fingers and smiled.
“Yes?” Draco asked in mild curiosity as four pairs of eyes were fixated on his face.
“OH FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! ! STOP FUCKING AROUND !” It was now Harry’s turn to explode.
“Oh. Right. The Durmstrang Institute is first. Tomorrow night, they’re going to be knocking on their front door."Draco smiled. "Hmmm... nearly four hundred strong impressionable minds- already apprentices of the more, should I say- intriguing side of magic to boot... Tell me something, Potter- are these three ready to handle wizards with elemental abilities, plus Rodulphus himself?” He grinned at Rebecca. “Oh, by the way Rebecca, wear some non-skid shoes, I hear it’s a bit muddy over in Norway these days- don't want anymore, er- slip ups...“
Watching her go red in the face, Draco laughed and exited the room. “I’ll be back in the morning. I’m going home and have sex, then take some well-deserved rest. Tomorrow will be a long day.”
Author's note: Teaser: there will be another fic in this series, but it will not revolve around Harry Potter....*soft evil laugh*
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