Final Preparations (After the Flaw: Oligarchy, Chapter 23)
Title: Final Preparations (After the Flaw: Oligarchy, Chapter 23)
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: Previous Chapters
Rating: R for language and sexual content
Summary: Is everyone ready to go?
Notes: Enger Tower's a real place. And it really does have a great view. Once again, you can tell that I lived there since I've gone WAY overboard with the descriptives. Whatever, it's fun.
If you haven't already, please take my reader's poll regarding my posting schedule.
I own these characters. The others belong to JK Rowling.
Eleven Winter Days / Previous Chapters / OmegaCon
Jason Madsen was reconsidering his decision, no matter how appropriate it may have seemed. He could barely feel his fingers inside his gloves as he pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the lock of the old stone tower.
Well, old's relative, he supposed as the padlock popped effortlessly to his spell. Considering some of the places he had seen in the last two months, a structure like Enger Tower, built in the 1930's, was downright modern. But it sure did look old, all rough stone and metal gates and whatever.
He could have picked plenty of other places in the region to prepare his little bit of Project Beta. Minneapolis was the biggest target, since Britta had already called Chicago. She was talking Sears Tower. Now that would be cool.
St. Paul or Sioux Falls had more wizards. But even as he tromped through the foot and a half of snow at three thirty in the morning, the uncut January lake winds combining with the single-digit temperatures, Jason knew that Duluth just felt right. Enger Tower felt right. It was sitting on top of one of the tallest hills in the city, which gave it a perfect view of the city, which was spectacular, even in the darkness. Which meant the range was spectacular.
And, even as a child, the Tower had given Jason a feeling of ancient and magic, more than any other Muggle structure he had ever seen in Minnesota. It looked like it was torn from the corner of some medieval castle and plopped right in the middle of the Iron Range. Jason and his friends had spent so many days of their youth, the days before his powers had manifested themselves, pretending to be knights rescuing the princess from the top of the tower, or Ents attacking Isengard in that Ring flick.
His Muggle friends thought it was all imaginary. Oh, how wrong they were...
Jason pulled open the wrought-iron gate and went inside, wishing that he'd be out of the wind, knowing that there were so many open windows in this tower that it was an empty wish. He quickly made his way up the steps, old piled stone giving way to modern cement, ugly fixes after eighty years of wear. Near the top he caught sight of juvenile graffiti (his own had been painted over five years ago) and the dark splotches of pigeon droppings; the birds were always gave him a little bit of a shock when he came here in the summer, wings fluttering in his face as he turned the corner of the stairwell.
At last he reached the top and got another glimpse of downtown Duluth and Lake Superior. It was windy, it was bitter cold, but at least it was clear; the moon shone down on the lake, a sharp contrast to the orange, yellow, and halogen white glow from the city itself.
This is why he came back, Jason thought. In the end, he wanted his town to be a central player in the new wizarding world. Not Minneapolis, not St. Paul, not Rochester or St. Cloud or Madison. Especially not Madison. Stupid Cheeseheads. But Duluth is where it's at. Duluth is home.
Jason pulled his backpack from his shoulder and began to pull out the numerous boxes and devices. Before getting to work, he checked his watch. A little before four. Four hours before Zero Hour. Plenty of time. He didn't even know why he was here so early. Well, he was here early because Manbo told him to be here early. But it's not really like he'd run into a huge amount of people before it was time. It was cold, the kind of cold most non-Minnesotans don't really understand until they've actually been in it for months at a time. Besides, it was a Saturday morning in a college town, the first Saturday morning of 2020. No way people's hangovers were going to let them get up for a brisk morning jog down Kenwood, let alone up here on Skyline, where the icy roads twisted along steep slopes and the lake winds were at their most bitter.
Jason reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment, instructions for the device. He didn't know what it was called, some weird foreign word. The device itself was the creation of Akil, one of Enki's people. Came from Iraq or Syria or one of those Middle Eastern countries where the chicks had to keep their faces covered all the time. Jason never really asked, mostly because he couldn't speak the language to save his life. All he knew was that Akil was a wizard with magical devices. A literal wizard, Jason thought with a small chuckle as he put bag on the cold cement floor, sitting himself upon it and getting to work.
It took about an hour and a half to put it all together. He probably would have gotten it done in half the time, but the first half was spent trying to finagle the pieces together with his bulky gloves. After he pulled them off, he had to stop every thirty seconds to keep blowing on his hands, making sure they didn't freeze to the metal pieces like that kid's tongue in Christmas Story.
In the end, the device looked like a camera tripod, about as tall as his waist. Atop the tripod stood a metal pole about a foot high, and atop that was a metal ball about the size of a tennis ball. That was the trickiest part of them all, for inside was a series of magical crystals, herbs, and talismans. Potent stuff, he was sure, and Jason sure as hell hoped he remembered to stuff everything inside.
So now he just had to wait. Three hours now, maybe a little less. He sighed, looking around the tower. "Shoulda brought a magazine," he grumbled. "Or my iPod."
After a few minutes of sitting there in the dark, a thread of doubt trickled into Jason's thoughts. Was this a good enough position? He was in the open air, after all, but the space between the ledge and the roof was only about a foot tall. The metal globe didn't even reach it.
Maybe I can get it up higher, he thought. The roof?
Probably not a bad idea, he decided. That was definitely in the open more than here. I shoulda brought my broomstick. Maybe I could Apparate?
He stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes, debating. He could Apparate up there with the device, and hope that it didn't Splinch the stuff inside. He should be alright; he was good at Apparating clean. A few Sticking Spells once he got up there would make sure that the wind didn't knock the tripod over before it was time.
Pulling his wand from his pocket, Jason grabbed the device by its vertical pole and spun on his heel, Apparating up another five feet to Enger Tower's roof. But as his feet made contact, he realized that he had made a damn stupid mistake. His feet, after all, hit snow piled on top of slanted metal, and quickly flew out from beneath him. He watched in horror as his body flew backwards, his arms flew upwards and the device launched into the night air.
He reached behind him, grabbing a hold of the tower's green beacon, posted on top of the tower to ward off any low-flying aircraft, and pointed his wand at the device, which just disappeared over the edge and past his view. "Accio... thingie!" he cried, hoping to God that that worked.
It did. The device flew up, and he spun his wand into his sleeve, freeing his hand moments before the device fell deftly into it.
"Idiot," he muttered, pulling himself up by the beacon, hoping to find some kind of footing. "Fucking idiot." In the end, he had to lean on the metal beacon slightly, hoping that he wouldn't bend it with his weight (You would have bent it anyway, hanging on it like a fucking monkey). His chest pressed against the support, he set the tripod gently down on the roof, making sure to cast a Sticking Spell on each leg before releasing it. With that done, he Apparated again, reappearing on the landing below, where he sat down on his backpack to catch his breath and to await the sun.
---------
"Come in," said Seamus Finnigan, not looking up from his work at the knock on his office door. Kingsley Shacklebolt opened it and looked around Auror Finnigan's office, with its piles of paper studiously messy: the kind of mess that looked like a nightmare to anyone but the person who actually made the mess. If you ask them to give you a random file, however, they'd pull it from the maelstrom in five seconds flat.
"Finnigan," said Kingsley, leaning on the doorway.
"Minister," said Seamus from his lounge chair, the one that he sat in when he didn't want to be cramped behind his desk. "Forgive me if I don't stand up."
"You're forgiven," said Kingsley, seeing the stack of papers and photographs on Seamus's lap. "You do know what day it is, don't you?"
"I dunno," said Seamus, holding up one of the photographs to study. "It's not Valentine's Day, is it?"
"Not even close."
"Thank Merlin," he said dryly. "I forgot to buy you a bouquet."
"It's Saturday."
"Yeah, probably," Seamus mumbled. With a shake of his head, Seamus set the photograph aside and pulled up another.
"Go home, Seamus," Kingsley ordered. "It's a Saturday, you're one of the last people in the entire building."
"I have work to do, Minister," said Seamus. "It can't wait."
"You've been saying that for the last two weeks," said Kingsley. "You've been here every afternoon since you got that information about that character from Victoire Weasley's dream..."
Seamus sighed, once again glancing at the enlarged photograph Stuck to his wall. Taken by his wife, Teddy Lupin stared into the camera, his face morphed into that of a giant cat, a face that he had seen in a dream back in October, a dream that had later been revealed to be shared by Victoire Weasley on the night of Luna's attack. On the desk beside it sat a crystal containing a phrase, vocally mimicked by Teddy: "Who are you?"
Ever since Lavender convinced the two kids to reveal this information (and why did they have to be convinced, anyway? Seamus thought for not the first time), Seamus had been a man with a renewed mission. It might not be a face of a criminal, per se, but it was close.
They had a voice, they had an alter ego, and maybe the basis of a psychological profile. It wasn't much, but it was a start, and it was a damn sight better than they had had before.
Seamus had since been studying all of the registered animagii in England, as well as any criminal records of unregistered. He had pulled as many strings as he could among his international contacts, getting a hold of sixteen other countries worth of registries. He searched for criminals with feline familiars, criminals with feline names, criminals who ever mentioned cats in past testimonies or interviews. He checked with St. Mungo's, and other hospitals in Europe, about any patients who had had a sip of the wrong kind of Polyjuice, like Hermione had during their second year.
"Nothing," he muttered now. "Nothing, nothing, nothing with a side of sod all!"
"Take a break," said Kingsley. "I'm closing up my area for the day, and so did your boss. And if Hermione's getting away from work for the weekend, you know that you can, too."
"She's not getting away," said Seamus. "She's just pretending to be. She and Harry and Dean are at a Muggle convention this afternoon to talk to some people about this Porter thing. It's off the record, since there still hasn't been any laws broken, but you know Hermione's not going there to beef up her autograph collection. She can work, I can work."
"When's the last time you've seen your wife, Seamus?"
"She understands," said Seamus, switching the stack on his lap for another on the floor. "It's Luna. She understands."
"That still doesn't mean--"
"Is this an order, sir?" Seamus said, looking up.
"Yes," said Kingsley. "Yes, it's an order. Get out of here, spend some time with Lavender. Take her out to dinner, or something."
Seamus looked at the stack of work with some hesitation, as though afraid to let it leave his sight. Kingsley shook his head in mild frustration, then pointed his wand at the paperwork. They rustled slightly, then were still.
"There," he said. "Spelled For Your Eyes Only. Bring them home with you if you feel you need to, but at least put them down for a little bit this weekend. You could use a break--"
"Break comes when the job's done," said Seamus, picking up the pile and tapping it on his desk to straighten it as best as he could. "But, I suppose Lav would be glad to see me. She's probably wondering if I've set up a cot in here."
"I'm surprised you haven't," said Kingsley, stepping aside to let Seamus out of his own office, the door to which he closed behind him with some regret.
"This whole case is just bothering me," Seamus said as they crossed the Auror's offices, now empty for the weekend, and entered the lift. "A juicy bit like this, I thought I'd be able to break it wide open, but I don't know. There's something missing..."
"Like what?" Kingsley asked.
"Like I don't know," said Seamus. "Like why did Teddy and Vickie go to Lavender instead of Hermione? Why a practical stranger over family? And why is Lavender refusing to give us any more details about the dream?"
"She says that it's not relevant," said Kingsley as the gate closed. "You don't believe her?"
"She's my wife," said Seamus. "I trust her judgment. But there might be something in the dream that none of them recognized as important, but we might see differently... I don't know. I mean, it's just a dream. Why would they need to hide it, especially from Hermione? From everything that I've heard, Vickie absolutely loves her Uncle Charlie. Why would she be so scared to show off something that could only help him and Luna get better?"
"Well, if it's something personal, I could see why," said Kingsley. "Maybe that's why they went to Lavender: they dreamt about something that they didn't want anyone close to them to know about."
"But they're kids!" Seamus said in frustration. "What would they need to hide?"
"Twenty-one and nineteen and they're kids?" asked Kingsley with a raised eyebrow.
"Okay, maybe not kids," said Seamus, rubbing his forehead.
"If they were hiding something criminal, then Lavender would have told us," said Kingsley. "Her profession may be about privacy, but the law trumps that if they, I don't know, killed someone or committed a burglary."
"Yeah, I wouldn't expect anything like that," said Seamus. "Which makes me want the rest of that dream even more. If it's not criminal, then what else is there to hide?"
"Finnigan, you were nineteen once," said Kingsley as the gate opened at the Entrance Hall. "You can't tell me that you didn't have dreams that you would die before telling your family."
"Yeah, but I'd tell my Mum that I dreamt about sleeping with every girl at Hogwarts if it meant someone I loved would get healthy again," Seamus said. "I just... ah, forget it," he groaned. "I'm just going around in circles. You're right, I should go home, get my head on straight, come back Monday. I just need to find something to take my mind off things."
"Actually," said Kingsley, digging into his robe, "does Lavender like Quidditch?"
"Not particularly," Seamus shrugged. "Why?"
"Robards and I are going to the Puddlemere-Holyhead match this afternoon," Kingsley said, pulling out four tickets. "Savage and Dawlish were going to be there, too, but they had to bow out, so I have two seats left."
"Yeah, thanks for the offer, but I'm gonna have to turn you down," said Seamus. "Lavender would rather I be at work all night than get dragged to a Quidditch match with two co-workers. I'm going to follow the Minister's orders: quiet night, take her to dinner, that kind of thing."
"Understood," said Kingsley, pocketing the tickets again. "I'll probably Floo Percy when I get home, he'd be interested in watching his sister from the good seats."
"Absolutely," said Seamus, then gave a chuckle. "And Harry's gonna be at a Muggle scifi convention instead of watching his wife play. Odd world."
"Well, it's a good idea for them to speak to someone about this Jimmy Porter situation, anyway," said Kingsley as he stepped into the Floo. "If they can even get a clue about their sources, it'd be a win. I just hope they keep a low profile."
---------
"So how do I look?"
Ted Lupin looked up from his laptop (Bulls beat Mavericks in OT. NFC Wild Card Preview, and Chelsea Considers Sitting Moore were among the ESPN headlines he had been scanning), and his jaw dropped.
"I take that as a compliment?" said Hermione Caroline with a broad grin and a twirl, allowing Ted's old Quidditch gear to billow out, her loosely tied ponytail whipping around behind her.
"You're easily the hottest Quidditch player I've ever seen," he said with a smile, twirling in his computer chair looking her up and down.
"Broomball, love," she said, sauntering over to him. "Hottest Broomball player you've ever seen. Call it Quidditch this afternoon and you're going to get some odd looks."
"It looks good on you," he said, putting his hands on her hips. "Course, I'm gonna be really jealous of everyone who gets to see you. Usually you're only wearing my old robes when you're using them as pajamas."
"You don't have to worry," she said with a playful smile, setting aside her broomstick, straddling his legs and kissing him deeply. "They don't get what you get. I'm usually naked under them, too, remember?" Ted smiled against her lips and growled wolf-like into her mouth.
"Dirty little girl," he said. "You know they're going to be here any minute..."
"I know," she breathed. "But I can't help it. The costume's getting me."
"If I had known you were so into cosplay, I would have taken you to a convention years ago," he growled, his hands moving around areas that caused his wife to give a little gasp of pleasure. "We could have dressed you up as Supergirl or Emma Frost. Something skimpy, lots of leg, easy to get off in the hotel later?"
"Now who's the dirty one?" she said, sending a chill through him as she ran her fingers lightly up and down the back of his neck. "No, I just like to think about you flying around in this outfit. I just wish I could have seen you play. I always got so jealous of James and Vic, they got to see -- what?" she asked as he tensed up beneath her.
"Nothing," he said after a moment, pulling his eyes away from hers. "Thought I heard someone outside. False alarm."
"Okay," she said, leaning over and nibbling his neck gently.
"We should stop," Ted said stiffly, putting his hands back on her hips, this time pushing gently away instead of pulling her towards him. "They're going to be here soon, and I really don't want your sister walking in on us."
"But I'm in a robe," Caroline whispered, rubbing against him. "I can hide things nicely."
"Hermione--"
"Okay, okay, fine," she said with a little pout and removing herself from his lap. "But this isn't over."
"I hope not," Ted said, regaining his composure with a brief smile. "I should go get my costume on. I'll be back in a minute."
"Go," she said, flopping onto the couch with a regal wave of her hand. "Leave your poor wife to stew in her hormones."
Ted laughed and ran up the stairs two by two, leaving Caroline to pick up the remote control and turn on the television.
"Well, it is going to be a fantastic film," said Veronica Duke, grinning her supermodel grin, absently sloshing a can of Burst (BURST, Caroline unconsciously corrected. When's that damn film coming out, anyway? They've been advertising it long enough). "It's just a joy to work with Stephen every day, even if half of it is in front of a green screen."
Caroline sat there, watching the actress laughing a big fake press junket laugh and letting her thoughts wander.
"Oh, it's not a big deal that Stephen's gay," said Veronica. "He's such a fantastic actor, the chemistry just came naturally, especially during the love scenes."
Something was wrong with Ted, Caroline thought as she willed the warmth between her legs to subside. He kept zoning out more and more lately. And was he turning her advances down more?
You're being paranoid, she thought. He was right, you know. His sister-in-law and his godfather are coming any minute, of course he didn't want to pop out for a quickie.
But, still, it wasn't just tonight. The last few weeks had been that way.
It's the holiday, you've said it so many times. He's missing his Mum and Dad. It doesn't help with all the extras piled on this year, what with Charlie and Luna and Vic...
Vic... He was definitely concerned about the Weasley closest to him, both in age and familiarity. It's obvious why, of course: Victoire was still a mental wreck from the attack; she seemed to disappear into her own world as often as Ted did lately.
That was all.
Right?
Of course that's all. What else would it be?
I don't know...
The doorbell rang just then, startling Caroline out of her thoughts. She jumped off the couch and ran to the door.
"Nice costume, Caroline," said Harry as he entered, studying her Gryffindor kit. "Looks vaguely familiar."
"Just vaguely," said Caroline with a flattered smile, as Dean Thomas and Jean followed him in.
"Sorry we're late," said Jean, hugging her sister. "We just dropped everyone off at the Express. Took longer than we expected."
"Always does when they have their Christmas load to haul back," said Harry. "Where's Teddy?"
"Upstairs getting ready," said Caroline, scoping out the three adults. "You three going Normalian, huh?"
"It's an unofficial Ministry visit," said Dean, unbuttoning his suit coat as he sat down on the couch. "Muggle attire only, we don't want to look unprofessional."
"Well, you two are probably alright," she said to Harry and Jean; Harry was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, while her sister was sporting a peasanty pull-over blouse, "but you might look too professional, Mr. Thomas."
"We'll tell them I'm in the MiB," Dean said. "I have sunglasses, if I need them."
"You definitely have the Will Smith thing going," said Caroline. "It should work."
"Being compared to Will Smith by a cute blonde," said Dean with a winning grin. "That's what I call high compliment."
---------
It had been a calm day so far. The students were on their way back to school, but with two more days before classes started, Madame Parvati Patil had plenty of time to re-organize her classroom.
It was soothing, having this quiet time to herself before Beauxbatons once again filled, and the madness began anew. Parvati had reshelved texts, sorted out the teas that were nearing their expiration dates, and made sure that all of the Tarot decks, mixed up over the last few months by students in a hurry to get done with their lessons, were all properly reorganized.
This was Financial Divination, after all. The last thing that you would want to do was give a prospective client a reading using a deck with three Chariot cards and no Priestesses.
That would just be unprofessional.
That done, Parvati decided that some of her crystal balls could use a good wipedown. She had made the mistake of teaching crystal reading to the fourth years ten minutes after they had eaten frog legs for lunch. Not everyone had washed their hands. It was gross.
She grabbed a clean rag, squirted a little bit of cleaner onto the ball (Unfogging the Unfogger Decontaminant Spray), and began to wipe.
Parvati Patil screamed and dropped the crystal ball, which shattered on the ground with a ringing crash.
She stood stock still in the middle of her classroom, her heart racing. She didn't see what she had just seen. She couldn't have seen it. It was too just surreal, too unbelievable, too...
Was it too late?
Parvati's paralysis broke. She sprinted out of her classroom, leaving the scattered remnants of crystal to be cleaned a long time later. Her mind was racing.
Owl? Too slow. No way it would get there in time.
Floo? Maybe. Probably. Hopefully someone would be there to answer. It was Saturday, would anyone even still be at the Ministry? She should Floo Lavender. She could find Seamus. Fast.
But what could he do? What could anyone do? A cold chill ran through Parvati, and her stomach lurched. Oh, God, what could anyone do now?
"Olympe!" Parvati screamed, dashing through the plush halls of Beauxbatons Academy towards the Headmistress's office. "Olympe!"
"What is it, Parvati?" Madame Maxime said, standing up from her desk in alarm as Parvati burst into the office.
"London," Parvati said. "We need to get in touch with London. Shacklebolt, Ogden, Seamus, anyone!"
"Parvati, calm down," said Maxime, bending down and putting her half-giant hand on Parvati's shoulder. "What is the matter?"
Parvati stopped, trying to find the words. Already what she had seen in the crystal ball was fading. But it wasn't because she hadn't seen it, it wasn't that she had dreamt it or imagined it. It was because, although she had seen wonders and terrors uncounted in her life, her mind couldn't comprehend what she had just seen, couldn't rationalize it, beyond--
"Horror," Parvati groaned, her face slack with shock. Wishing that she could vomit. "Horror. Death."
"Horror," Maxime gasped. "Death? What? When?"
"Now."
Eleven Winter Days / Previous Chapters / OmegaCon
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: Previous Chapters
Rating: R for language and sexual content
Summary: Is everyone ready to go?
Notes: Enger Tower's a real place. And it really does have a great view. Once again, you can tell that I lived there since I've gone WAY overboard with the descriptives. Whatever, it's fun.
If you haven't already, please take my reader's poll regarding my posting schedule.
I own these characters. The others belong to JK Rowling.
Eleven Winter Days / Previous Chapters / OmegaCon
Jason Madsen was reconsidering his decision, no matter how appropriate it may have seemed. He could barely feel his fingers inside his gloves as he pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the lock of the old stone tower.
Well, old's relative, he supposed as the padlock popped effortlessly to his spell. Considering some of the places he had seen in the last two months, a structure like Enger Tower, built in the 1930's, was downright modern. But it sure did look old, all rough stone and metal gates and whatever.
He could have picked plenty of other places in the region to prepare his little bit of Project Beta. Minneapolis was the biggest target, since Britta had already called Chicago. She was talking Sears Tower. Now that would be cool.
St. Paul or Sioux Falls had more wizards. But even as he tromped through the foot and a half of snow at three thirty in the morning, the uncut January lake winds combining with the single-digit temperatures, Jason knew that Duluth just felt right. Enger Tower felt right. It was sitting on top of one of the tallest hills in the city, which gave it a perfect view of the city, which was spectacular, even in the darkness. Which meant the range was spectacular.
And, even as a child, the Tower had given Jason a feeling of ancient and magic, more than any other Muggle structure he had ever seen in Minnesota. It looked like it was torn from the corner of some medieval castle and plopped right in the middle of the Iron Range. Jason and his friends had spent so many days of their youth, the days before his powers had manifested themselves, pretending to be knights rescuing the princess from the top of the tower, or Ents attacking Isengard in that Ring flick.
His Muggle friends thought it was all imaginary. Oh, how wrong they were...
Jason pulled open the wrought-iron gate and went inside, wishing that he'd be out of the wind, knowing that there were so many open windows in this tower that it was an empty wish. He quickly made his way up the steps, old piled stone giving way to modern cement, ugly fixes after eighty years of wear. Near the top he caught sight of juvenile graffiti (his own had been painted over five years ago) and the dark splotches of pigeon droppings; the birds were always gave him a little bit of a shock when he came here in the summer, wings fluttering in his face as he turned the corner of the stairwell.
At last he reached the top and got another glimpse of downtown Duluth and Lake Superior. It was windy, it was bitter cold, but at least it was clear; the moon shone down on the lake, a sharp contrast to the orange, yellow, and halogen white glow from the city itself.
This is why he came back, Jason thought. In the end, he wanted his town to be a central player in the new wizarding world. Not Minneapolis, not St. Paul, not Rochester or St. Cloud or Madison. Especially not Madison. Stupid Cheeseheads. But Duluth is where it's at. Duluth is home.
Jason pulled his backpack from his shoulder and began to pull out the numerous boxes and devices. Before getting to work, he checked his watch. A little before four. Four hours before Zero Hour. Plenty of time. He didn't even know why he was here so early. Well, he was here early because Manbo told him to be here early. But it's not really like he'd run into a huge amount of people before it was time. It was cold, the kind of cold most non-Minnesotans don't really understand until they've actually been in it for months at a time. Besides, it was a Saturday morning in a college town, the first Saturday morning of 2020. No way people's hangovers were going to let them get up for a brisk morning jog down Kenwood, let alone up here on Skyline, where the icy roads twisted along steep slopes and the lake winds were at their most bitter.
Jason reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment, instructions for the device. He didn't know what it was called, some weird foreign word. The device itself was the creation of Akil, one of Enki's people. Came from Iraq or Syria or one of those Middle Eastern countries where the chicks had to keep their faces covered all the time. Jason never really asked, mostly because he couldn't speak the language to save his life. All he knew was that Akil was a wizard with magical devices. A literal wizard, Jason thought with a small chuckle as he put bag on the cold cement floor, sitting himself upon it and getting to work.
It took about an hour and a half to put it all together. He probably would have gotten it done in half the time, but the first half was spent trying to finagle the pieces together with his bulky gloves. After he pulled them off, he had to stop every thirty seconds to keep blowing on his hands, making sure they didn't freeze to the metal pieces like that kid's tongue in Christmas Story.
In the end, the device looked like a camera tripod, about as tall as his waist. Atop the tripod stood a metal pole about a foot high, and atop that was a metal ball about the size of a tennis ball. That was the trickiest part of them all, for inside was a series of magical crystals, herbs, and talismans. Potent stuff, he was sure, and Jason sure as hell hoped he remembered to stuff everything inside.
So now he just had to wait. Three hours now, maybe a little less. He sighed, looking around the tower. "Shoulda brought a magazine," he grumbled. "Or my iPod."
After a few minutes of sitting there in the dark, a thread of doubt trickled into Jason's thoughts. Was this a good enough position? He was in the open air, after all, but the space between the ledge and the roof was only about a foot tall. The metal globe didn't even reach it.
Maybe I can get it up higher, he thought. The roof?
Probably not a bad idea, he decided. That was definitely in the open more than here. I shoulda brought my broomstick. Maybe I could Apparate?
He stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes, debating. He could Apparate up there with the device, and hope that it didn't Splinch the stuff inside. He should be alright; he was good at Apparating clean. A few Sticking Spells once he got up there would make sure that the wind didn't knock the tripod over before it was time.
Pulling his wand from his pocket, Jason grabbed the device by its vertical pole and spun on his heel, Apparating up another five feet to Enger Tower's roof. But as his feet made contact, he realized that he had made a damn stupid mistake. His feet, after all, hit snow piled on top of slanted metal, and quickly flew out from beneath him. He watched in horror as his body flew backwards, his arms flew upwards and the device launched into the night air.
He reached behind him, grabbing a hold of the tower's green beacon, posted on top of the tower to ward off any low-flying aircraft, and pointed his wand at the device, which just disappeared over the edge and past his view. "Accio... thingie!" he cried, hoping to God that that worked.
It did. The device flew up, and he spun his wand into his sleeve, freeing his hand moments before the device fell deftly into it.
"Idiot," he muttered, pulling himself up by the beacon, hoping to find some kind of footing. "Fucking idiot." In the end, he had to lean on the metal beacon slightly, hoping that he wouldn't bend it with his weight (You would have bent it anyway, hanging on it like a fucking monkey). His chest pressed against the support, he set the tripod gently down on the roof, making sure to cast a Sticking Spell on each leg before releasing it. With that done, he Apparated again, reappearing on the landing below, where he sat down on his backpack to catch his breath and to await the sun.
---------
"Come in," said Seamus Finnigan, not looking up from his work at the knock on his office door. Kingsley Shacklebolt opened it and looked around Auror Finnigan's office, with its piles of paper studiously messy: the kind of mess that looked like a nightmare to anyone but the person who actually made the mess. If you ask them to give you a random file, however, they'd pull it from the maelstrom in five seconds flat.
"Finnigan," said Kingsley, leaning on the doorway.
"Minister," said Seamus from his lounge chair, the one that he sat in when he didn't want to be cramped behind his desk. "Forgive me if I don't stand up."
"You're forgiven," said Kingsley, seeing the stack of papers and photographs on Seamus's lap. "You do know what day it is, don't you?"
"I dunno," said Seamus, holding up one of the photographs to study. "It's not Valentine's Day, is it?"
"Not even close."
"Thank Merlin," he said dryly. "I forgot to buy you a bouquet."
"It's Saturday."
"Yeah, probably," Seamus mumbled. With a shake of his head, Seamus set the photograph aside and pulled up another.
"Go home, Seamus," Kingsley ordered. "It's a Saturday, you're one of the last people in the entire building."
"I have work to do, Minister," said Seamus. "It can't wait."
"You've been saying that for the last two weeks," said Kingsley. "You've been here every afternoon since you got that information about that character from Victoire Weasley's dream..."
Seamus sighed, once again glancing at the enlarged photograph Stuck to his wall. Taken by his wife, Teddy Lupin stared into the camera, his face morphed into that of a giant cat, a face that he had seen in a dream back in October, a dream that had later been revealed to be shared by Victoire Weasley on the night of Luna's attack. On the desk beside it sat a crystal containing a phrase, vocally mimicked by Teddy: "Who are you?"
Ever since Lavender convinced the two kids to reveal this information (and why did they have to be convinced, anyway? Seamus thought for not the first time), Seamus had been a man with a renewed mission. It might not be a face of a criminal, per se, but it was close.
They had a voice, they had an alter ego, and maybe the basis of a psychological profile. It wasn't much, but it was a start, and it was a damn sight better than they had had before.
Seamus had since been studying all of the registered animagii in England, as well as any criminal records of unregistered. He had pulled as many strings as he could among his international contacts, getting a hold of sixteen other countries worth of registries. He searched for criminals with feline familiars, criminals with feline names, criminals who ever mentioned cats in past testimonies or interviews. He checked with St. Mungo's, and other hospitals in Europe, about any patients who had had a sip of the wrong kind of Polyjuice, like Hermione had during their second year.
"Nothing," he muttered now. "Nothing, nothing, nothing with a side of sod all!"
"Take a break," said Kingsley. "I'm closing up my area for the day, and so did your boss. And if Hermione's getting away from work for the weekend, you know that you can, too."
"She's not getting away," said Seamus. "She's just pretending to be. She and Harry and Dean are at a Muggle convention this afternoon to talk to some people about this Porter thing. It's off the record, since there still hasn't been any laws broken, but you know Hermione's not going there to beef up her autograph collection. She can work, I can work."
"When's the last time you've seen your wife, Seamus?"
"She understands," said Seamus, switching the stack on his lap for another on the floor. "It's Luna. She understands."
"That still doesn't mean--"
"Is this an order, sir?" Seamus said, looking up.
"Yes," said Kingsley. "Yes, it's an order. Get out of here, spend some time with Lavender. Take her out to dinner, or something."
Seamus looked at the stack of work with some hesitation, as though afraid to let it leave his sight. Kingsley shook his head in mild frustration, then pointed his wand at the paperwork. They rustled slightly, then were still.
"There," he said. "Spelled For Your Eyes Only. Bring them home with you if you feel you need to, but at least put them down for a little bit this weekend. You could use a break--"
"Break comes when the job's done," said Seamus, picking up the pile and tapping it on his desk to straighten it as best as he could. "But, I suppose Lav would be glad to see me. She's probably wondering if I've set up a cot in here."
"I'm surprised you haven't," said Kingsley, stepping aside to let Seamus out of his own office, the door to which he closed behind him with some regret.
"This whole case is just bothering me," Seamus said as they crossed the Auror's offices, now empty for the weekend, and entered the lift. "A juicy bit like this, I thought I'd be able to break it wide open, but I don't know. There's something missing..."
"Like what?" Kingsley asked.
"Like I don't know," said Seamus. "Like why did Teddy and Vickie go to Lavender instead of Hermione? Why a practical stranger over family? And why is Lavender refusing to give us any more details about the dream?"
"She says that it's not relevant," said Kingsley as the gate closed. "You don't believe her?"
"She's my wife," said Seamus. "I trust her judgment. But there might be something in the dream that none of them recognized as important, but we might see differently... I don't know. I mean, it's just a dream. Why would they need to hide it, especially from Hermione? From everything that I've heard, Vickie absolutely loves her Uncle Charlie. Why would she be so scared to show off something that could only help him and Luna get better?"
"Well, if it's something personal, I could see why," said Kingsley. "Maybe that's why they went to Lavender: they dreamt about something that they didn't want anyone close to them to know about."
"But they're kids!" Seamus said in frustration. "What would they need to hide?"
"Twenty-one and nineteen and they're kids?" asked Kingsley with a raised eyebrow.
"Okay, maybe not kids," said Seamus, rubbing his forehead.
"If they were hiding something criminal, then Lavender would have told us," said Kingsley. "Her profession may be about privacy, but the law trumps that if they, I don't know, killed someone or committed a burglary."
"Yeah, I wouldn't expect anything like that," said Seamus. "Which makes me want the rest of that dream even more. If it's not criminal, then what else is there to hide?"
"Finnigan, you were nineteen once," said Kingsley as the gate opened at the Entrance Hall. "You can't tell me that you didn't have dreams that you would die before telling your family."
"Yeah, but I'd tell my Mum that I dreamt about sleeping with every girl at Hogwarts if it meant someone I loved would get healthy again," Seamus said. "I just... ah, forget it," he groaned. "I'm just going around in circles. You're right, I should go home, get my head on straight, come back Monday. I just need to find something to take my mind off things."
"Actually," said Kingsley, digging into his robe, "does Lavender like Quidditch?"
"Not particularly," Seamus shrugged. "Why?"
"Robards and I are going to the Puddlemere-Holyhead match this afternoon," Kingsley said, pulling out four tickets. "Savage and Dawlish were going to be there, too, but they had to bow out, so I have two seats left."
"Yeah, thanks for the offer, but I'm gonna have to turn you down," said Seamus. "Lavender would rather I be at work all night than get dragged to a Quidditch match with two co-workers. I'm going to follow the Minister's orders: quiet night, take her to dinner, that kind of thing."
"Understood," said Kingsley, pocketing the tickets again. "I'll probably Floo Percy when I get home, he'd be interested in watching his sister from the good seats."
"Absolutely," said Seamus, then gave a chuckle. "And Harry's gonna be at a Muggle scifi convention instead of watching his wife play. Odd world."
"Well, it's a good idea for them to speak to someone about this Jimmy Porter situation, anyway," said Kingsley as he stepped into the Floo. "If they can even get a clue about their sources, it'd be a win. I just hope they keep a low profile."
---------
"So how do I look?"
Ted Lupin looked up from his laptop (Bulls beat Mavericks in OT. NFC Wild Card Preview, and Chelsea Considers Sitting Moore were among the ESPN headlines he had been scanning), and his jaw dropped.
"I take that as a compliment?" said Hermione Caroline with a broad grin and a twirl, allowing Ted's old Quidditch gear to billow out, her loosely tied ponytail whipping around behind her.
"You're easily the hottest Quidditch player I've ever seen," he said with a smile, twirling in his computer chair looking her up and down.
"Broomball, love," she said, sauntering over to him. "Hottest Broomball player you've ever seen. Call it Quidditch this afternoon and you're going to get some odd looks."
"It looks good on you," he said, putting his hands on her hips. "Course, I'm gonna be really jealous of everyone who gets to see you. Usually you're only wearing my old robes when you're using them as pajamas."
"You don't have to worry," she said with a playful smile, setting aside her broomstick, straddling his legs and kissing him deeply. "They don't get what you get. I'm usually naked under them, too, remember?" Ted smiled against her lips and growled wolf-like into her mouth.
"Dirty little girl," he said. "You know they're going to be here any minute..."
"I know," she breathed. "But I can't help it. The costume's getting me."
"If I had known you were so into cosplay, I would have taken you to a convention years ago," he growled, his hands moving around areas that caused his wife to give a little gasp of pleasure. "We could have dressed you up as Supergirl or Emma Frost. Something skimpy, lots of leg, easy to get off in the hotel later?"
"Now who's the dirty one?" she said, sending a chill through him as she ran her fingers lightly up and down the back of his neck. "No, I just like to think about you flying around in this outfit. I just wish I could have seen you play. I always got so jealous of James and Vic, they got to see -- what?" she asked as he tensed up beneath her.
"Nothing," he said after a moment, pulling his eyes away from hers. "Thought I heard someone outside. False alarm."
"Okay," she said, leaning over and nibbling his neck gently.
"We should stop," Ted said stiffly, putting his hands back on her hips, this time pushing gently away instead of pulling her towards him. "They're going to be here soon, and I really don't want your sister walking in on us."
"But I'm in a robe," Caroline whispered, rubbing against him. "I can hide things nicely."
"Hermione--"
"Okay, okay, fine," she said with a little pout and removing herself from his lap. "But this isn't over."
"I hope not," Ted said, regaining his composure with a brief smile. "I should go get my costume on. I'll be back in a minute."
"Go," she said, flopping onto the couch with a regal wave of her hand. "Leave your poor wife to stew in her hormones."
Ted laughed and ran up the stairs two by two, leaving Caroline to pick up the remote control and turn on the television.
"Well, it is going to be a fantastic film," said Veronica Duke, grinning her supermodel grin, absently sloshing a can of Burst (BURST, Caroline unconsciously corrected. When's that damn film coming out, anyway? They've been advertising it long enough). "It's just a joy to work with Stephen every day, even if half of it is in front of a green screen."
Caroline sat there, watching the actress laughing a big fake press junket laugh and letting her thoughts wander.
"Oh, it's not a big deal that Stephen's gay," said Veronica. "He's such a fantastic actor, the chemistry just came naturally, especially during the love scenes."
Something was wrong with Ted, Caroline thought as she willed the warmth between her legs to subside. He kept zoning out more and more lately. And was he turning her advances down more?
You're being paranoid, she thought. He was right, you know. His sister-in-law and his godfather are coming any minute, of course he didn't want to pop out for a quickie.
But, still, it wasn't just tonight. The last few weeks had been that way.
It's the holiday, you've said it so many times. He's missing his Mum and Dad. It doesn't help with all the extras piled on this year, what with Charlie and Luna and Vic...
Vic... He was definitely concerned about the Weasley closest to him, both in age and familiarity. It's obvious why, of course: Victoire was still a mental wreck from the attack; she seemed to disappear into her own world as often as Ted did lately.
That was all.
Right?
Of course that's all. What else would it be?
I don't know...
The doorbell rang just then, startling Caroline out of her thoughts. She jumped off the couch and ran to the door.
"Nice costume, Caroline," said Harry as he entered, studying her Gryffindor kit. "Looks vaguely familiar."
"Just vaguely," said Caroline with a flattered smile, as Dean Thomas and Jean followed him in.
"Sorry we're late," said Jean, hugging her sister. "We just dropped everyone off at the Express. Took longer than we expected."
"Always does when they have their Christmas load to haul back," said Harry. "Where's Teddy?"
"Upstairs getting ready," said Caroline, scoping out the three adults. "You three going Normalian, huh?"
"It's an unofficial Ministry visit," said Dean, unbuttoning his suit coat as he sat down on the couch. "Muggle attire only, we don't want to look unprofessional."
"Well, you two are probably alright," she said to Harry and Jean; Harry was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, while her sister was sporting a peasanty pull-over blouse, "but you might look too professional, Mr. Thomas."
"We'll tell them I'm in the MiB," Dean said. "I have sunglasses, if I need them."
"You definitely have the Will Smith thing going," said Caroline. "It should work."
"Being compared to Will Smith by a cute blonde," said Dean with a winning grin. "That's what I call high compliment."
---------
It had been a calm day so far. The students were on their way back to school, but with two more days before classes started, Madame Parvati Patil had plenty of time to re-organize her classroom.
It was soothing, having this quiet time to herself before Beauxbatons once again filled, and the madness began anew. Parvati had reshelved texts, sorted out the teas that were nearing their expiration dates, and made sure that all of the Tarot decks, mixed up over the last few months by students in a hurry to get done with their lessons, were all properly reorganized.
This was Financial Divination, after all. The last thing that you would want to do was give a prospective client a reading using a deck with three Chariot cards and no Priestesses.
That would just be unprofessional.
That done, Parvati decided that some of her crystal balls could use a good wipedown. She had made the mistake of teaching crystal reading to the fourth years ten minutes after they had eaten frog legs for lunch. Not everyone had washed their hands. It was gross.
She grabbed a clean rag, squirted a little bit of cleaner onto the ball (Unfogging the Unfogger Decontaminant Spray), and began to wipe.
Parvati Patil screamed and dropped the crystal ball, which shattered on the ground with a ringing crash.
She stood stock still in the middle of her classroom, her heart racing. She didn't see what she had just seen. She couldn't have seen it. It was too just surreal, too unbelievable, too...
Was it too late?
Parvati's paralysis broke. She sprinted out of her classroom, leaving the scattered remnants of crystal to be cleaned a long time later. Her mind was racing.
Owl? Too slow. No way it would get there in time.
Floo? Maybe. Probably. Hopefully someone would be there to answer. It was Saturday, would anyone even still be at the Ministry? She should Floo Lavender. She could find Seamus. Fast.
But what could he do? What could anyone do? A cold chill ran through Parvati, and her stomach lurched. Oh, God, what could anyone do now?
"Olympe!" Parvati screamed, dashing through the plush halls of Beauxbatons Academy towards the Headmistress's office. "Olympe!"
"What is it, Parvati?" Madame Maxime said, standing up from her desk in alarm as Parvati burst into the office.
"London," Parvati said. "We need to get in touch with London. Shacklebolt, Ogden, Seamus, anyone!"
"Parvati, calm down," said Maxime, bending down and putting her half-giant hand on Parvati's shoulder. "What is the matter?"
Parvati stopped, trying to find the words. Already what she had seen in the crystal ball was fading. But it wasn't because she hadn't seen it, it wasn't that she had dreamt it or imagined it. It was because, although she had seen wonders and terrors uncounted in her life, her mind couldn't comprehend what she had just seen, couldn't rationalize it, beyond--
"Horror," Parvati groaned, her face slack with shock. Wishing that she could vomit. "Horror. Death."
"Horror," Maxime gasped. "Death? What? When?"
"Now."
Eleven Winter Days / Previous Chapters / OmegaCon