The Alchemist's Cell
by SJR0301
Chapter Twenty-Five
"Graves has been shot," Edgar told the Superintendent.
"You need to get the big wigs back in here. They have to know what's going on." Masters stared at Edgar and said coolly, "I'll determine that. Why don't you tell me first how it is that three detective grade officers failed to keep a hold of their suspect. Report, Inspector Bones." Edgar started from the beginning, with the Riddle murders nearly fiftey years before. He told Masters everything with one exception. He did not tell Masters he himself was a wizard.
"So you're saying we have a psychopathic criminal lord who is also a wizard? And who kills by magic?" Masters said incredulously. He looked at Fay and said, "Is he quite well? Don’t tell me you believe this, too, Kray." Edgar could sense Fay tensing up. She had always been disinclined to tell Masters he was wrong. It just wasn't politic for a Sergeant who wanted to make Inspector.
"Yes, sir," Fay answered. "And Edgar is just fine. I saw them do it, sir. So unless you want to say we're both mad, this is something that needs to go up to the top. I agree with Edgar completely." Edgar could have kissed her just then, but he kept his face as neutral as he could and waited for Masters to throw up his hands and call in the Commissioner and the fellow from whatever secret agency he needed.
An hour later, Edgar was chafing with annoyance and feeling that time was slipping by. He wished he had left telling Masters till later and had done what he ought to have in the first place--contacted the Ministry, or Dumbledore. But he knew that would have been impossible. Masters would have fired him instantly for failing to report in immediately after another officer had been shot.
Finally, Masters called him back into the conference room, and Edgar gawked in astonishment when he saw who was there. The Prime Minister was seated there calmly sipping coffee from a porcelain cup. He stood up when Edgar and Fay entered and immediately offered his hand.
"I hear you've done a bang-up job investigating these gang killings," the Prime Minister said. Edgar tried to keep the surprise from showing on his face.
"Thank you, sir," he said. "I take it Supeintendent Masters has told you the situation. The danger, that is."
The Prime Minister nodded. "As it happens, I was already aware of much of it. You've just filled in a few blanks, and done a super job conencting things that we didn't know were connected. Even the Ministry of Magic didn't know all of it." This time, both Edgar and Fay stared in pure surprise.
"Ministry of Magic?" Edgar asked. He couldn't believe the Prime Minister knew and had mentioned it so casually.
"Yes," the Prime Minister said, quite cheerfully. "Very hush-hush, you know. We keep their existence very secret. Known only to a few persons at the highest levels, including the Crown and the Prime Minster, of course." Edar was till staring and the Prime Minister took pity on him.
"It's a very old, old department. It used to be quite open and official. Mostly, they govern their own affairs entirely, and they've been secret to the public for centuries. But when we call, when the Crown calls, they do serve at our request." He took another sip of his coffee and added, "Goes back before William of Conquerer, in fact." Edgar couldn't think of an intelligent thing to say. He was a wizard and he'd had no clue the Prime Minster might actually know.
"I see," he said, more to appear to give a response than because he did.
"Well, Superintendent Master, Inspector Bones, Sergeant Kray. It's been a pleasure meeting you and I'm pleased to know our Scotland Yard maintains the high quality of police work that gives it a world-wide reputation."
"Thank you, sir," Masters said. Being a political animal, Masters probably wished he could get a photo of himself and the Prime Minister. He probably wished, Edgar thought sourly, that he'd been able to talk to him on any other topic than this.
"Thank you, sir," Edgar and Fay echoed. Incredibly, the Prime Minister was getting up to leave and nothing had been said about what was planned for catching up with Riddle and stopping him.
"I'm sorry, sir," Edgar said, "But...what are we doing about this? Do we have a plan for actually cathcing this fellow?"
"Ah," said the Prime Minister. "The Ministry of Magic is keeping me informed. They say they have it well in hand." He smiled impartially at the three officers and added, "It's much better that way. We really don't want the public in on the secret, now do we. And I'm sure I can rely on your discretion, and your oath to comply with the Official Secrets Act to keep a proper lid on this." Edgar stared at him as he went out and then turned to Masters.
"So we're to just stop? Not investigate any further? Do nothing to catch them, any of them?"
"That's right, Bones," Masters answered. "Unitl further notice, we put this on hold. When the PM lets us know, then we'll go after the regular gang types who've survived. If any of them do."
"This is mad," Edgar said. "I can't believe they want us to just do nothing. Didn't he listen? I told him, this has been going on for over fifty years. It'll never stop. How can they ever stop him? They couldn't do it seventeen years ago. How will they do it now?"
"Edgar," Fay said, "what could you do? You haven't even done anything like this since you were a sixteen-year-old boy. And what are we supposed to do? Point our guns at them and find they don't work, because they've been made useless by some magic spell?"
"Oh, Fay," Edgar said. "If you could hear yourself. A few days ago, there was no such thing as magic. And now..."
She sighed and said, "I've been telling myself that for years. Autnie Matilda used to tell me, when I was quite little, about being a witch, but I was always afraid I'd end up being batty like her, and getting old and having nobody to talk to but imaginary ghosts."
Edgar grinned. "Your Auntie Matilda isn't all that batty, and your house really does have ghosts. You must have had a few wizards in your family for them to be congregated in your house."
"What do you mean?" Fay asked.
"I had a nice chat with your Auntie and a couple of ghosts at Christmas. They said you used to chat with them all the time when you were little, but you don't speak to them anymore."
"I do too talk to my auntie," Fay said.
"I know," Edar answered. "I meant the ghosts. They were really quite hurt you know."
"That was a childhood game," Fay said "I played it with Aunt Matilda until Mum and Dad told me off. I think they were relieved when I decided to be a copper. It's not very genteel, according to them, but better than seeing ghosts and pretending to be a witch." she looked at him peevishly and added, "But that's besides the point. You're not going haring off on your own, are you?"
Edgar looked at her and said thoughtfully, "Of course not. I need my partner with me."
~~***~~
Minerva McGonagall swept the Great Hall with her eyes, keeping a keen watch out for trouble. She knew it was Dumbledore himself who had authorized the dueling practice, but she had the gravest doubts about it herself. With Potter missing, perhaps...-but that was unthinkable - a pall seemed to hang over many of the students. She had a mind to cancel the whole thing if one student got out of line.
She saw with surprise and concern that Potter's friends had shown up. The Weasley boy looked especially grim and she didn't like the way he was eyeing the cluster of Slytherins surrounding that brat Draco Malfoy. Not that she couldn't sympathize. After all, the sneaky little brat was the son of a Death Eater and she had wanted Dumbledore to refuse him admittance this year. She had told him he was too damned noble. Even if the children of the Death Eaters weren't ones yet, they could still pass on information, she thought. And probably had been. But he had been firm. They had to be given a chance to choose for themselves. And Hogwarts was the best place for them to see what was the right choice.
Professor Ribisi was lining up the students in pairs all along the hall. She noticed with approval that he had kept Weasley away from the Slytherins and that Granger and Ginny Weasely had contrived to place themselves on either side of him. They must know he was in danger of losing his temper at any point.
The Great Hall's ceiling was a sky of cloudless blue, and bright sunshine streamed in through the high paned windows, glinting off the children's shiny hair and illuminating their young faces. She would have been entirely content, had it not been for the absence of her favorite pupil. Not that Harry was the best student academically ever to sit in her class. His own father had been a far better student; but James had never had the difficulties and distractions his son had had. Still had, she admonished her self severely. She would not believe he was gone, refused to believe it.
She had badgered Dumbledore to send out wizards all over to look for the missing boy. They knew where he had been; they knew he had believed You Know Who was there. It was possible, she thought, that even now he was in You Know Who's clutches, a thought that made her shiver with fear. Yet the boy had escaped so many times. It seemed impossible he might not have escaped this time. The students had begun to duel. Malfoy had sent a fellow Slytherin, Nott, sprawling with a Jelly-legs curse. Crabbe and Goyle had knocked each other silly, though not before setting Millicent Bulstrode's robes on fire, causing her to run shrieking until Professor Ribisi doused the fire with a flick of his wand.
"Hospital wing, then Bulstrode," he said rather unsypathetically. "Too bad, these things can happen in practices. But we must not let that deter us from being ready for everything and anything."
Minerva approved of that. She found Ribisi a bit dramatic for her tastes, but he was a competent teacher, thank god. She had almost been of a mind to suggest that Dumbledore permit Snape to teach it this year. Or to take it on herself, seeing how poorly some of their last teachers had taught the subject. With a scowl, she mentally cursed Dolores Umbridge and hoped she was suffering wherever she was. Minerva thought afterwards that she should have known something would happen. Yet the cloudless sunny day had lulled her fears, so that the invasion, when it came, came as a complete surprise.
The first inkling anyone had of danger was when Moaning Myrtle came shrieking and weeping out of the second floor bathroom that was her haunt. Everyone turned to gawp at her, even Minerva. Then the sound of many feet thundering and slapping on the Castle's stone floors gave warning of the impending terror. Black robed and masked, the Death Eaters stormed through to the Hall. Behind them were a phalanx of goblins and at the front was a hunched, robed figure whose face without a mask was most terrible. Red slit-pupiled eyes surveyed the Hall with inhuman satisfaction. They swept over the ranks of now frozen children and landed right on her.
Terror clutched at her guts, but she stiffened her spine to its maximum height and remembering the man's weakness said coldly, as if she were addressing a particularly naughty student, "Mr. Riddle, what are you doing here disrupting my school? I must ask you to leave immediately or suffer the consequences."
The red eyes glowed with fury and a spell whipped at her, barely missing her as the tall statue next to her sprang to life and jumped in front to deflect the spell. Then he laughed, a cold high laugh, a mad laugh, and he answered, "The doughty Minerva McGonagall, chief lioness of the Gryffindor House. I do appreciate bravery, especially from the purest among us. Come and join me, brave Minerva, it would be by far the wisest thing you can do."
She felt a rare fury possess her and she said icily, "Never! Begone, and cease to sully this great Castle with your evil." She had expected another spell, but none came.
Instead, the oddly hunched figure gave a parody of a bow and said, "I shall be glad to go. You have only to do one thing. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave all the rest of these children alone and safe." She was shocked speechless for a moment.
"What are you, you shame to wizard-kind, that you would hold the lives of innocents as ransom for the life of a another? And how dare you, when you know more about Potter's whereabouts just now than we do." She glared at him, all fear consumed in her fury."Did you not kill him two days ago?" A gasp went up from the students. They had not known how grave the situation was.
"Of course not," came the answer. "It is a clever trick, Professor, but you cannot bluff me. I know he is here." The red eyes tracked her with their merciless stare. "I would know if he were dead. I know," he added coldly, "I know the boy lives and is here, now! Surrender him, and we will leave."
"Well, he's not here," came another voice. Voice shaking, Ron Weasley spoke from the crowd. "Cause he'd never stand by and let you threaten everyone else and not come forward to stop you." That Weasley temper, Minerva thought with terror. The boy'll get himself killed. "Where is he, then?" Ron shouted. "You killed him and Flamel, and this is just your excuse for killing everyone here and taking revenge on Dumbledore."
An expression of surprise flitted across the inhuman face, and the flat nostrils flared slightly. "So," he responded, "Dumbledore is keeping him hidden. None of you know where he is, do you? Or do you?" Minerva thought that the serpent seemed oddly bemused but fear scorched her again as he raised his long wand, pointed it at Weasley, and the boy was down on the floor writhing in the pain of the Cruciatus Curse, but only for a moment.
"That is but a taste of the pain you'll know, if you do not surrender him to me." The redhead lifted his head. His face was white, so that the latest crop of freckles stood out, but his eyes were defiant as he screamed, "If I knew, I'd never tell you," and he flung a disarming spell right at the monster. The spell was deflected with a simple flick, and Minerva was sure in her heart that the boy would be killed.
She cried, "Enough!" to drag Riddle's attention away and with another wave of her wand she activated her defensive spells all at once.
The loud siren sound startled everyone, and in a second, the armored knights from the Trophy Hall had appeared, great swords drawn and empty helmets clinking. The ceiling's cloudless sky transformed into a storm of purple thunder clouds and a lightning speared out of one, striking right at Riddle's feet and boring a hole into the Hall's stone floor. Panic set in as students suddenly ran from the Hall, and the suits of armor had attacked the ranks of the Death Eaters and goblins. Minerva whipped her wand again, and the clouds sent forth a drenching rain and howling wind.
The hunchback screamed in fury and a flick of his wand froze all, so that suits of armor skidded on the now icy surface of the floor knocking down students and Death Eaters alike. He aimed a spell at her, a fell green light, but the light was swallowed by the great red bird that appeared suddenly in the Great Hall, with Dumbledore in tow. The bird burst into flames and Dumbledore raised his wand and sent a golden-red jet of fire at the hunched form of the monster. The spell was also deflected.
The confusion was complete. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Neville Longbottom aim a stunning spell at a nearby Death Eater, and the Death Eater collapse. Hermione Granger had dodged another spell, and she slid on the ice like a skater, twirling to fire a spell back at her attacker. McGonagall thought proudly, I'll have to have a talk with that girl. The Death Eater had been transfigured into a mouse, and it went squeaking off, only to be stepped on by the metal booted foot of one of the suits of armor. Professor Ribisi had engaged another Death Eater, a tall one, whose eyes looking out of his mask were familiar cold silver. She cried out a warning, but this time, the Death Eater's spell was true. The green light caught Ribisi in a sudden glow and he fell into a heap, eyes vacant and staring, quite, quite dead.
More teachers had arrived, and the Great Hall was a whirl of sound and motion. Taking her cue from Granger's spell, McGonagall transfigured several goblins nearby into rather large bugs. She didn't feel very sorry for them when an armored suit stamped on them with its metal boot.
Voldemort had recovered from Dumbledore's last attack, and he cried out an incantation Minerva had never heard before. Dark descended on the Hall, and she could have sworn that the only light left was the red glow of the monster's eyes.
The dark was cold and thick, and felt poisonous, and round her, Minerva could hear the sound of bodies falling, and when she drew in breath, the air felt icy cold and suffocating at the same time. With a furious cry, Dumbledore lit every candle in the rooom, and a flick of his wand created a glowing, incandescent ball of light that began to swirl, and as it turned, the dark was sucked into it, and warmth and light returned.
In the light, she saw several of the Slytherin students, who had retreated to a far corner at the invasion, inch forward. As Dumbledore raised his wand to strike at Voldemort again, and as Voldemort raised his as well, one of them, a rather weedy boy named Nott, ran forward.
Afterwards, Minerva thought that the unfortunate boy must have meant to offer his services to Voldemort, as he was running from behind and to the side and looked as though he was joining the Death Eaters ranged beside their master. But none of that mattered to Voldemort.
The boy was now in his way, and the wand flashed out its green light, killing the boy instantly. The wand whipped up again, and Minerva thought for sure that Dumbledore must be defeated now, for he had stilled momentarily, his blue eyes focused on the dead body of the teenage boy. Then the white head lifted and they were full of such fire as she had never seen. The monster paused for a fraction, as though even he must quail before the elderly wizard's fury.
A cry came from one of the black masked men, an inarticulate sound of grief and rage. The Death Eater cast a spell that struck Voldemort and caught him momentarily off balance. The Death Eater screamed again, but he went down in rain of stunning spells from the others, and Voldemort had recovered his focus again, only to find his wand flying out of his hand. A small slip of a girl had crept between two suits of armor and cast the disarming spell whilst his attention was directed the other way. Perhaps the Death Eaters had ignored her because she was on the small side, and here were so many other distractions, especially Dumbledore, to look to.
Ginny Weasely crowed with triumph and ducked back behind a suit of armor just in time. The transfigured suit collapsed under the next spell, but Dumbledore had stepped forward again, and a red light whipped around Voldemort, pinioning his arms, as if it were a solid rope. For a moment, she thought, it's over; but Voldemort had slid a hand beneath his robes and he cut through the rope of light with a new weapon of his own.
She was shocked to realize that only minutes had passed, and yet two people, at least, were already dead. How many more, she thought, will die, before this ends? For Voldemort had now a new terror. The thing he had drawn was a long sword, black as obsidian, and it glowed with a greensih light, so that she knew he must have infused it with some very dark magic. He slashed forward with the sword, and Dumbledore barely dodged in time. Where the sword's path went, green fire followed, melting the stone floor in a great swath. Dumbledore's next spell struck the sword itself, but was deflected off of it, and the red light cracked one of the banisters of the Hall stairs.
Voldemort cried out, "I've had enough of you, old man. But give me the Potter boy, and I'll let you live."
What answer the elderly wizard might have made was never heard, for another voice answered. "Here I am, then. Come and get me!" He leapt from the stair above, right through the place where the banister had crumbled and landed in front of Dumbledore, facing off with the monster.
The entire Hall stopped dead, and from that moment, it seemed to Minerva that the fight, which had gone so fast before, now took place in slow motion. Dumbledore's face was full of despair and at the same time, with a furious kind of pride and love. And even, perhaps, wonder.
The boy raised a sword as well and sunlight struck fire off the huge pigeon rubies that decorated the Sword of Gryffindor.
***
Harry could hear the racket of the fight from the other side of the Castle. He hurtled down the corridors and down the stairs as fast as he could. As he ran, he noticed with astonishment, that Phinneas Nigellus had followed him, sliding from one portrait to the other, a transparent shadow of color, rolling from wall to wall, and frame to frame like a child's shadow box come alive. He knew with absolute certainty that Voldemort was there. He thought, just let me get there in time. Just let me get there before anyone else gets killed. And he felt, with absolute rage and horror, when he saw Voldemort raise the sword to slash at Dumbledore, too late!
Voldemort slashed forward with the sword, and Dumbledore barely dodged in time. Where the sword's path went, green fire followed, melting the stone floor in a great swath. Dumbledore's next spell struck the sword itself, but was deflected off of it, and the red light cracked one of the banisters of the Hall stairs.
Voldemort cried out, "I've had enough of you, old man. But give me the Potter boy, and I'll let you live."
Harry shouted defiantly, "Here I am, then. Come and get me!" He leapt from the stair above, right through the place where a banister had crumbled and landed in front of Dumbledore, facing off with the monster. Without thought, he raised the sword and attacked, just as he had learned last summer. Just as he had learned from Professor Ribisi.
When the swords met, a golden-red light glowed from the Sword of Gryffindor to challenge the green glow of Voldemort's black one. He thrust forward, and jumped back, parried and attacked, as he had been taught, and always, he was startled at how fast Voldemort's hunched body moved and how powerful the green fire was. Voldemort closed in on him, and for a second, they were nearly chest to chest, and eye to eye, with their swords tangled against each other.
The red eyes glowed, and with a smile of triumph, Voldemort said, "You have grown strong, boy. I can use your strength. I'll have your youth, your young strong body for my own, instead of this old carcass." And so saying he struck at Harry's mind, seizing the thought paths, and blanketing him in the deepest dark, in a small corner.
Harry retreated behind his wall, and a tiny voice of determination in the corner said, "NO!" He pushed the wall forward and forward and forward, until he had pushed Voldemort out of his, but being tied to him, he followed into the other's. A foul, poisonous rage enveloped him; bitter, corrosive, unending jealousy and hatred consumed him.
From afar, he saw the remembrance of a boy being made fun of, "You've got no Mommy and Daddy didn't want you!" and the later more bitter remembrance of a man who looked quite like himself saying, "I have no son."
A strange reluctant pity flowed through him as he saw with compassion the roots of the man's corruption. A resentment and rage that he knew. How often had he felt that same hurt, when Marge had called him freak, or when they had seized his letters and locked him in his cupboard. The mind rejected pity, rejected compassion and threw at him the pleasure and triumph it had felt when it killed. A face very like his own, but with hazel eyes and a longer nose fell before him and hazel eyes were vacant in death. A red-haired woman, hardly more than a girl, begged, "Not Harry! Please not Harry! Take me instead," but there was no mercy for her either.
Nearly gagging in horror, Harry gave one more mighty heave and he threw Voldemort back both bodily and out of his mind. More furiously, now, they struck at each other, and still the hunched form before him threw the sword's magic at him, with ever increasing strength. He deflected it again and again, matching blow for blow and fire for fire. He knew there were others watching, but they had faded to the periphery of his consciousness, and it was as if he were enclosed within the golden dome again in which they had fought two years ago.
He slipped slightly on a small crevice in the floor, which had been carved there a moment before by the black sword's green fire. The red eyes glowed with pleasure and Voldemort stepped forward to strike at him. Harry managed to right himself almost in time, so that instead of striking right through him, the black sword made only a smallest cut. A little, shallow indentation on his chest, just below his heart. Voldemort's arm was fully extended and his hunched body was stretched out as far as it could go without retreating again. Harry knew, quite instantly, exactly what he had to do. He met the red eyes and smiled with relief that he could finish it now.
***
The Great Hall had gone eerily silent, and the only sounds now were the clash of the two great swords and the hiss of their fire as they met, or the melting crackle as one cut another molten crack in the Hall's floor or left lines scored into the stone walls. Minerva trembled with terror when she saw Voldemort force the boy back against a pillar, and was utterly horrified to see the boy's green eyes suddenly change to red.
She understood, finally, why Dumbledore had insisted on the Occlumency lessons. He had anticiapted this very thing, and she saw also, Dumbledore's face as he raised his wand, perhaps to interfere. No one else seemed to have even a thought of interfering. It was as if they all knew, had always known, that this was coming. She prayed to the heavens, only let him find the strength and courage to cast the serpent out. Perhaps some force of good heard her, for the boy's eyes had changed back to green and with a mighty heave he threw back the enemy. She felt hope then, and pride for the boy's courage.
But like everyone else watching, she could not have predicted the outcome, had she looked into a crystal for a thousand years straight. Like everyone else, she gasped when the boy slid on a crack in the floor and when the monster struck with speed, just touching the boy right at his ribs. Someone in the crowd yelled, "Jump back, Harry!"
The boy smiled, and the expression on his face was quite strangely certain and peaceful, as he stepped forward instead of away and thrust his sword straight through the monster's black heart, and at the same time, his own forward movement forced the black sword through his own body as well. The red eyes flared with a look of infinite fury and surprise and then went dark, and the two fell tangled together, either's sword still in either's body.
A cold black wind seemed to sweep through the Hall, and then dissipated, leaving the Hall bright and calm once more. The Death Eaters and those goblins still standing began to run on seeing their master's fall, but no one went after them.
Dumbledore had rushed to the fallen bodies. Tears were falling down his wrinkled cheeks unregarded, and he gently touched the pale face of the boy he had tried so hard to protect.
Nearby, Minerva heard the choked sound of weeping. The Weasley girl had her face hidden in her brother's chest and the tall boy had wrapped one arm around her and another around Hermione Granger's shoulders.
"Either shall die at the hand of the other," Hermione whispered. "It was true," she said, "the prophecy was true."
Dumbledore lifted his head a moment, but a faint movement from the thin body on the floor distracted him.
Green eyes opened, and Harry said softly, his voice a faint thread of sound, "Is it over, Professor?"
Dumbledore nodded and said, "Yes," and then softly, "don't talk."
The white face relaxed ever so slightly and the faint voice said, "Good, it's finished, then." The green eyes closed again and the boy was still.
Minerva knew she was crying herself only because she could taste the salt of her own tears. She was startled then, when Dumbledore said sharply, "Get Madam Pomfrey. Now! There is still a chance, if he has help." The Weeasley boy had let go of the others and was flying up the stairs, and the dark shadow of Phinneas Nigellus flowed across the walls before him.
