Chapter Text
News and Reports
St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
Room 12
"Hi, Spec." Deadman waved at the just arrived Spectre. "Ready to go back? Those guys have been on their feet for a while. I bet they are booored." He pointed at the Aurors with his thumb.
The Spectre shrugged, and looked at his own sleeping body; he held up a hand, a silvery strand resting on the palm. One of the ends disappeared into his physical body, the other was connecteđ to the Spectre's heart. "Strange to think this is the only thing keeping my body alive." He sighed, "And even stranger that I can die and still go on."
"Yup. Tell me about that, buddy. We live in strange times, kid." Deadman floated next to the bed, legs crossed Indian style. He leaned back, stretching his legs and lacing his fingers behind his head, he almost looked as if he was comfortably laying down in a hammock. "Say, I don't have any pressing concerns at the moment, would you mind some company for a while? I'm curious to see that school of yours."
"Sure." The Spectre reverted to Harry Potter's form, and allowed himself to be pulled back into his body. "Time to face the music, I guess." He opened his eyes, and inhaled a lungful of air. He was aware of how it should smell, but the sensation was pale and far away.
"Call the Healer," one of the men in the room said, "He's awake."
The next hour was full of questions and diagnostic spells.
And the one after that, of questions about the events at the cemetery.
By that point, Harry was tired of answering questions and all he really wanted was to just sleep for two days.
But it wouldn't be.
An orderly brought him notice that a big and imposing eagle, bearing the Gringotts seal, had a letter for him. And that the bird didn't allow anybody to take the letter. It seemed it was to be delivered only to Harry Potter, and no one else.
"Now what?" He asked through clenched teeth.
Hogwarts
Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom
Amelia Bones, Head of the DMLE, paced around the DADA classroom. Thinking. She had the evidence collected from the body of Barty Crouch Jr. Over the battered desk. She also had a few pointy questions to ask Barty Crouch Sr., but the most pressing matter at the moment was the location of Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody. Auror Tonks had arrived shortly after her, and now the two were discussing Crouch's impersonation of the irascible former Auror.
"Polyjuice." Bones looked at the bottle her mentor always carried with him. Most people assumed it was full of healing potion or even some alcoholic beverage. Amelia knew it was not the case. Moody always had some herbal tea at hand. It helped with some lingering pain he suffered from his multiple scars. He was a complete tee-totaller. "Alcohol dulls your edge when you most need it," he mused privately.
"Polyjuice only works if the person imitated is alive." She remembered. "So, Moody is alive. Point one."
Tonks nodded and checked a line on her scroll.
"Point two? Where had Crouch hidden a helpless Moody. If Mad Eye was not helpless, he would have surely found a way to either escape or call for help." Tonks observed. "Crouch would need to have a constant supply of hair or nails for the potion to work."
Director Bones sat down at one of the student desks, without even realizing it, she had chosen the very same place she took back when she herself was a student.
"Think, Amelia, think. Just as Moody taught you." She suppressed a yawn. She would have time to sleep later. Right now, the priority was to find Moody. She put herself in a different frame of mind. "Put yourself in his place. Think like the suspect. Become the criminal." One of Moody's favorite tactics. To beat the Dark Wizard, you have to anticipate them. To do that you have to think like them.
She imagined the daily routine of Crouch as Moody. Having to drink that disgusting potion before the effect wore off. Always mindful no one could catch a whiff of its particular and very recognizable smell. She imagined every action a teacher in Hogwarts would be required to take. Right from the moment they woke up, to the moment they went to bed.
Add to that the actions a Death Eater would have to take, like harbesting, buying, or stealing ingredients for the potion. pity that Severus Snape wouldn't be available for questioning.
Suddenly, a leap of logic. "He couldn't have kept as Moody all the time. The polyjuice potion has a limited time before the body reverts to its natural form. He would have to change back to sleep. There would be no point on keeping Moody's form while sleeping, it would deplete his supply of Polyjuice. So, upon waking up, he had to drink the Polyjuice before even getting out of his room."
The most probable place was the DADA teacher's room.
With Tonks' help, Bones had checked and rechecked every square feet of the room, with nothing to show, except for a few books that definitively belonged to the Black Library, and would be kept secret for the time being (if everything went like she expected, Sirius Black would be wanting those books back).
She slapped her forehead, put her wand on the palm of her hand and said forcefully, "Tonks, we are going to locate Moody, go to the other corneR of the room and follow my lead. Point me Alastor Moody" The wand spun on her hand, stopping almost immediately. It pointed straight across the room. She used a piece of conjured chalk to trace the direction, while Tonks did the same from the adjacent corner of the room.
The lines crossed inside the room. Exactly on a very old and battered trunk. Bones hissed, "Inside his own trunk, trapped for who knows how long!"
"Will it be trapped, Madam Bones?" The young metamorphmagus asked. Moody had a well deserved reputation as a paranoid bastard, so there was a real possibility the trunk would be protected with more than simple locking and anti-theft charms. She discarded the idea of simply opening it almost immediately.
"Crouch had been using this trunk for months, probably since late August. I think he must have disabled Moody's defenses." She began to run detection spells. Some of them developed by Moody himself. "Basic warding, alarm, and, ah… an stasis spell." She pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Get me some curse breakers. I'm too tired to do this properly."she sighed. "Preferably, from Gringotts. I'm not completely sure there are no unmarked Deatheaters sympathizers in the Ministry."
While Tonks made a Floo call to Gringotts, Director Bones whispered, "Don't give up, Moody. Help is on the way."
Gringotts
Third Level, Secondary Eastwards Hall
Next to the Legal Proceedings Room (Wills And Testaments)
"(Many attendants today.)" An old goblin guardian commented.
"(Many testaments to read.)" Another shrugged.
"(Dark families, most of them.)" A third goblin added.
"(Interesting turn of events.)" the second grinned like a wolf.
"(Indeed. I had not seen so many wills read in a single day. Not since the Pretender got himself blown off by the Heir Potter.)"
"(But now it's not the Light or Grey families who come to us in great numbers."
"(No. This time it's their turn to know how it feels. My guess? Somebody managed to gather a lot of them at some secret place and ended their lives at the same time. Whomever it was, we must find out who did it, and get on their good side.)"
"(Shh! Listen.)"
From the reading room, heated voices argued violently.
The old goblin chuckled, "(The Notts. I bet three galleons there's another reading in less than two weeks.)"
The young guard scratched his ear, "(Who is managing the betting pool?)"
"(My nephew, Axehand.)"
"(Put me up with four galleons for the same with the Notts. And two galleons that the Greengrasses will get the Notts' vault by the end of the year)"
"(Very bold bet, Eyeripper. You're in. When our shift ends, I'll introduce you to Axehand.)"
Inside the room, the goblin in charge of the reading was very relieved the guests had been made to surrender their wands or be forbidden from attending. Greed was a powerful motivator indeed.
So, the goblin enjoyed the show of several Purebloods recurring to old-fashioned, Muggle-style fists.
Meanwhile, Ragnok paced around his office.
He chewed nervously on a piece of expensive gna root. He reserved tispeay for really stressful situations. And even so, he only took a small piece and made it last for long hours. He had heard the Muggles had something similar, though without the calming properties of well prepared gna roots. They called it chewing gum. He had tried it once, but it wasn't rubbery enough for his taste, not even the brands that included a collectible card. And the Muggles only made it in disgustingly sweet flavors. He would have liked something salty, like jerky.
He forced himself to concentrate back on the actually important matters. For starters, his personal eagle should have returned to its perch hours ago!
Could it be the Banshee's successor had disappeared? Actually died for good so soon after their ascension?
No.
In either case, Blood Talon would have returned by now. Unless the Successor had... no, better not go there.
So… either the recipient was too far away, and still had not received the letter… or was doing something that impeded them to receive the letter.
He sat down for a moment. And just seven seconds later, got up and began pacing again.
Ragnok's thoughts kept going back to the terrifying new responsibility bestowed onto him. The Banshee had been one of the few humans who appreciated, respected, and actually shared some of the Goblin Nation's tenents.
"Watered Blood and Empty Vaults!" He swore.
Over the Atlantic Ocean
Bruce Wayne's Private Jet.
"The Knight is busy with a legal case right now." Bruce Wayne relayed the news to his companion. "The Squire will wait for us at London Heatrow."
"It's been a while since my last visit to London. I'll change identity after we pass customs."
"Civilian, Hero, or Villain?"
"A bit of each. Coffin Dweller (1) is something of a walking contradiction. The original was a strange creature, lost in time and legend. An energy vampire, attracted to lonely places, longing for company. He died rescuing people from a fire, the same people he had kidnapped a few days before to feed. I found his lair just when he had pulled the last victim from the building. I eased his passing. He was desperate at that moment, as he had tried to stop himself from draining those persons, he only took the very smallest amount of energy from each one to survive. It was barely enough to find some measure of redemption."
Bruce Wayne nodded gravely. He changed shape, becoming an almost skeletal creature, with an elongated, pointy head and ears, prominent brow, and grey hairless skin. He now wore an outdated set of clothes, similar to an aristocrat from the 1930s. He maintained the shape for long enough for Batman to memorize his new appearance, and reverted to his usual civilian identity, Detective John Jones, currently Bruce Wayne's bodyguard.
The Martian Manhunter continued. "He was not well known in the meta human community, despite his longevity. He barely lets himself to be seen even now. His only regular haunt is the Time in a Bottle pub (2). He keeps himself to himself. We will have to enter separately."
"Squire can introduce me at the pub. Not a problem."
"Plus, I've heard Wildcat drops by from time to time. He seems to enjoy reminiscing about WWII with some of the older heroes of the Commonwealth."
"Not surprising for a JSA veteran."
Weekly Alarm! Offices (3)
Editor's Office
The Weekly Alarm! was a yellow rag. It's speciality was gore, the more sensationalist gore it could find and publish, the better. But even the publisher, Mortimer James Moss, found the news hard to believe, and he had seen, or so he thought, everything. He was a heavyset man, who looked almost as a bulldog in human form. He barely had any neck, but he turned his predatory gaze upon the tiny reporter/photographer at the other side of his perpetually messy desk. "Jenny! Are you serious? How many gallons?"
Jennifer Flead was a small woman, very plain looking, who had the body build to pass for a male kid of about 14 years old. Something that had come on handy more than once. She wiped her hands on her jersey. "I don't know, boss. But it was enough to fill a room of twelve by nine by ten feet. The windows were completely covered. Even the ceiling had blood!" She grabbed and waved a handful of pictures. Still wet from the dark room.
"Gimme that!" He snatched the pictures from his reporter's hands. He looked at the first one, and a weaselly smile spread on his face.
"I had to leg it quickly, the bobbies were arriving before I could turn the corpses around. But I got some nice pics of them as they were when I got there."
Moss smiled. If there was something he liked, it was bloody, literally bloody, crimes. And this one was the bloodiest crime ever!
"I even got some of the blood, boss." Jenny proudly showed him a small plastic box, filled with a clotted mass, and red smears inside.
"Great! Get it to your cousin and see if he can find if it's human or animal blood! In any case, we have our main story for the next three months at least!"
"Now get to work! I want this in the cover! Max! Go black and white with the cover! I don't want another visit from those weak hearted ladies from the good taste society!"
Ministry for Magic
Unspeakables' Office
"Well… I must admit I'm overwhelmed." Croaker said.
Firestorm scratched his chin, hidden by glamours. "High level magic, but the readings are very strange. Do we even have something similar on file?"
"Not in recent years, that's for sure. Even Living Memory, I already asked. We will have to check the Legend files."
"Do so. In the meanwhile, what about our guest?"
"A completely normal albino peacock. A bit panicky. It has tried to knock itself out a couple of times. I had to put cushioning charms all over its enclosure."
Croaker shrugged. "It is obviously well cared for. I would bet it's a Malfoy bird. They are the only ones who keep those ludicrously expensive birds around their manor. Let it calm itself and send it to Malfoy Manor. Anonymously, I don't want Lucius Malfoy asking how and why we go his pet."
Firestorm nodded and decided to send it to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures with a note to send it back to Malfoy Manor.
"Now, back to the important stuff. What did you find?"
"Well… I don't know exactly how the potion they were brewing had that particular effect. Most of it evaporated soon after. Maybe it was will-activated, but then we get the question of exactly what was whomever activated the potion thinking."
"Sabotage? Remembering a nightmare?"
Croaker closed his eyes. "Do we have a list of victims?"
"Here it is, boss. It checks, almost name by name, with the list of confirmed or suspected Deatheaters compiled back during the Blood War trials. There are a few suspects confirmed alive, and quite a few who were not suspected are now among the dead. Surprisingly, a good amount died right here at the Ministry."
"There were several suspects we cannot confirm as Deatheaters, as the families say they are alive, but unreachable."
"Hmm… I see. The rest?"
"Every single person with those symptoms we could examine had the Dark Mark. Even the Azkaban prisoners died the same way."
"Too precise to be accidental." Croaker tapped his fingers on the table. "We best schedule a meeting with Director Bones and compare notes. News from Harry Potter?"
"He's awake and aware at St. Mungo's. Right now, the DMLE is debriefing him. Should we claim him as a witness?"
"No. We wait for him to be released and then we will talk with him."
Author Notes
With this chapter, the story is now synced with the original in FFN, updates will be less frequent, please be patient.
(1) Coffin Dweller is one of the over 130 new characters introduced in the Knight and Squire miniseries (Six issues, cover dated December 2010 to May 2011) Apart from the name, nothing is detailed about him, not even if he is hero, villain or something else. Not even their gender! I made up all the details in a way I thought consistent with how J'Onn takes new identities, as established in the Martian Manhunter series by Ostrander and Mandrake (Published from Oct 1998 to Nov 2001). BTW, Coffin Dweller is not the weirdest character introduced in the miniseries. All I can say is that those are really strange characters. Go read it by yourselves! I'm sure you'll enjoy it.
(1) The Time in a Bottle Pub is also introduced in the K&S miniseries. It is a small pub in London, a place where none of the guests can attack any other, thanks to Merlin's magic. The pub has been around for a very long time, of course, since the XVIth Century!
(2) I needed the name of a really nasty periodical focused on sensationalist crime coverage. So, I thought of the quintessential periodical of its type I know of. Here in Mexico, the weekly "Alarma!" was, for a very long time, one of the, if not the, worst tabloid published. It focused mostly on passion crimes, bloody revenges, catastrophic accidents, and gay-bashing; especially if a story could be slotted into two or more of those categories. The publishers also has a nasty sense of humour, mocking the protagonists of their stories, their circumstances, or whatever. I won't repeat their most famous heading. It was so over the top, it even inspired a mocking song from a popular musical group, called "Alármala de Tos" (by Botellita de Jerez). The title is a word play that would literally be translated as "Alarm it of cough". Makes no sense, right? In Mexico, "Armarla de Tos" (Assemble it of cough, or Make it Cough, means to pick up a fight or cause difficulties.