Chapter Text
The rain rushed, soaking her ripped grey tunic and seeping through the fabric of her hood to wet her dark hair - icy wind and the undoubtedly too low night temperatures at that time of year starting to cloud her senses. She was beginning to feel her slim fingers falling asleep while holding her yew wooden wand, her teeth chattering and following the rest of her weary body in a vain attempt to recover some heat.
Despite all, the sharp harshness of her voice was not affected while speaking in the slightest.
“I’ll ask you one last time, poor thing. Where is he?” She hissed.
A broken male laugh emerged from the trembling body lying on the ground at her feet, followed by another burst of blood as the deadly tried in vain to regain some air. The woman could not help but shrink her lips in a grimace of disgust. If it weren’t for the valuable information that Death Eater could have in his rotten brain, he had long since died by her hands. Patience is a virtue, they said. But she had long been without it.
“Our D-dark Lord will be back! That’s all you need t-to know, you mudblood bitch.” Words difficult to understand because of his hysterical laughter.
The woman made another decisive gesture with her wand, casting a spell with reddish flashes which did nothing but tear out another agonizing cry of pain from her victim. She knew exactly what he was feeling, as if thousands of burning knives pierced every inch of his skin, forcing him to squeal to silence the pain. The Cruciatus Curse was a jinx for both the victim and its conjurer, but it was an evil she was more than willing to embody if she could achieve her goal that way. The bleeding lump was melting in spasms as his broken laugh continued to resonate in the air. Perhaps the pain had ended up making him lose what little sanity he still had.
Suddenly, she started hearing footsteps behind her. A little girl in uniform was running down the park road trying to escape the unforeseen rain, with a broken crimson umbrella in one hand - a leather briefcase in the other she was wearing as a hat to cover herself. She ran a few inches from the barrier that protected them from the eyes of the muggles, distorted image and sound so that no one was aware of what was happening there.
The hooded woman returned to focus on her task after checking that the girl passed by without realizing anything - she left her gaze fixed on the receding silhouette, lost in her thoughts for a few seconds. For his heartbroken moans and difficulty breathing, she knew he wouldn’t take it much longer. She was running out of time. Having mounted a considerable spectacle chasing him through the streets until she managed to reduce him in the park, she would not have to wait long until the aurors arrived.
Having to make sure - and fast -, she crouched beside him and whispered.
“How does it feel to have wasted a life, condemning your soul with the blood of innocents?" The man looked at her with eyes of pure fury, saliva and blood pouring out of his mouth giving him an even more monstrous appearance. She didn’t even flinch. "It’s a pity you haven’t tried to find your master before. You won’t be here to see his rebirth.”
“You’ve hunted so many of us, Raven, you can’t even recognize yourself.” His words lit a dark fire inside her, to which she responded by giving him a strong pleasurable kick in the stomach. What came out of him then was a sob, loud and fractured “He will c-come and claim you by his side, like all of us!"
While the man continued to hurl slurs at her as he tried to crawl across the filthy ground in a desperate attempt to escape what he knew would be his fateful end, the witch noticed a silver ghostly figure just behind her. Shaped like a phoenix, it had sat silently in the grass space, having crossed her barrier seamlessly. More than clear was the visible lack of hostility of that being towards her.
There was only one option. The creature was waiting for her, and she could not but be fascinated at the sight of such a magnificent corporeal patronus. She also could not help but wonder which wizard or witch might be so powerful - or what their intentions might be - to try to contact a pariah like her. The moment selected for such an appearance was also something that worried her, to say the least - the irony that a being of such purity as a patronus was witness to a full-fledged murder.
A whimper of pain distracted her, again. The man had managed to crawl a little, leaving a considerable trail of blood from the fatal wounds in his abdomen.
“Your time is up, Markus. Death isn’t so enjoyable anymore, is it?" She crouched beside him, caressing the wound on her back sweetly as the man continued to babble through tears. "Mercy is not an option with people like us. I hope all the souls you’ve snatched find you wherever your rotten spirit goes and make you suffer a million times what I haven’t had the time to do.”
She stood up and watched him, standing right next to him. She pointed her wand just towards the center of his back and threw her sentence as the man tried to look terrified at her - begging for his life.
“Avada Kedavra!”
A blazing ray of green struck the Death Eater, ripping out what little life he had left.
She stood there, still, thinking for a few seconds as the cold started to hurt her bones. She felt nothing. Grief and regret for taking someone else’s life was the first thing she had forced herself to ignore. Then came the anger and disgust, but now she could even resort to those emotions. All she felt was that icy cold that seeped through her skin and felt burning in her joints. Nothing relevant to her, of course - she had experienced real pain so many times that coldness didn’t even measure up to a mere caress.
She sighed, for the first time aware of the strain beginning to overtake her. She had finally run out of leads. That was the only Death Eater still in London she had managed to track down - in the last three months - who might have had some slight notion of the possible whereabouts of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The only thing she had managed to clarify was that he was no longer in England. Whispers among his closest friends now scattered and hidden, fleeing justice, which only strengthened the certainty that Lord Voldemort was lost - or voluntarily disappeared - somewhere on the continent.
Not even his most faithful followers had managed to find him.
She was about to break the barrier when she remembered the patronus' presence. There it remained, motionless, giving it an even more sinister appearance fitting the bloody scene of which both had witnessed. The witch approached it, to which the creature lifted up slightly and stood just in front of her waving its soundless wings.
She could not help but startle slightly at hearing a men’s voice coming from the creature.
“Dear Miss Avery, I am contacting you using this channel to ensure my message is received exclusively by you. I humbly request your presence as soon as possible at Hogwarts, as I would like to discuss certain sensitive information I believe might be helpful in your search. Yours sincerely, Professor Albus Percival Wulfrix Brian Dumbledore, director of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”
The patronus stopped speaking, although it did not disappear or take flight. Slightly confused, the witch was willing to approach it when the same voice was heard again.
“Oh, I would be extremely grateful if you would confirm receipt of this message and inform me beforehand of your arrival. I do not doubt the discretion and effectiveness of this messaging method, although you are especially known in the magic world of being extremely difficult to find, my dear. Thank you very much for your attention, and I look forward to your response. “
The ghostly phoenix took flight, getting lost among the canopies of ash trees and oaks in the darkness of the bitter night. The witch spent a few seconds watching the cloudy sky, until she remembered she had no desire to be present at that place when the minions of the Ministry of Magic arrived.
Albus Dumbledore.
She didn’t know much about the famous sorcerer, apart from the common knowledge that he was considered to have been the greatest wizard of modern times - perhaps of all time. Approaching someone like that was dangerous. A foolishness - one of her many specialties. The mention of her father’s cursed name had upset her greatly indeed, although it was no use blaming the man for it. None of that had ever been enough to get her attention. There was only one thing about the message she had perhaps overlooked, such a mistake could now become an opportunity for her to continue the hunt.
Albus Dumbledore was – is - the only known wizard Voldemort had ever feared. If his animosity for the dark arts was as certain as it was rumored by various circles, it might prove useful. Perhaps it was time to stop hunting down the faithful servants of the Dark Lord and start searching among those who had sworn eternal enmity to him.
Would it be worth the risk?
Would they believe her theory of the future return of the one who was considered to have been the most powerful and dangerous Dark Wizard of all time?
A whistling sound tore through the constant murmur of the rain, putting her on alert - aurors were beginning to apparate very close to the still active barrier. The woman watched them materialize little by little, dark figures ready with their wands drawn for whatever they thought they were going to find. She recognized a couple of them, probably extremely excited to have received a tip about the possible location of the target that had eluded them for months. She had never hurt an auror intentionally - or at least not very badly -, but it was difficult to escape them without resorting to some dirty tricks.
For a moment, she had the idea of burning the body. It had become a healthy habit, to make disappear all kinds of trace or proof of her presence. Her own conscience played a trick on her again, deep inside wishing that perhaps the trail of bread crumbs she was leaving with the corpses of those monsters was enough to make the aurors see reason at last. The witch lifted her wand, describing a winding path in the air that resulted in the gradual disappearance of the barrier between bluish reflections. There was no point in hiding anymore. Now visible to the naked eye, the others ran to her position casting some immobilizing spells.
She smiled wickedly, conjuring a flock of evil purple fire crows of considerable size who began to chase them as if they had a life of their own. A beautiful and deadly distraction. Blinding lights of blues, magentas and purples lit the terrain for a while, as the aurors battled the herd of scorching beasts. When the last one was finally gone, they observed the point from which the killer had conjured her curse.
The hooded woman was long gone.
“It’s a considerable risk, Albus." Professor Minerva McGonagall was twitching her fingers, nervous. "The Ministry has never held you in high esteem. Requesting the presence in Hogwarts of a witch in search and capture is not going to help you in anything.”
“Dear Minerva, I am fully aware of this." Dumbledore placed a hand on her old friend’s shoulder, trying to convey reassurance. "But I have to consider all possible options. The boy will arrive soon, and all protection is little. Much more now that we know almost certainly that he can return.”
The two professors observed the still empty classrooms of the enormous castle as they walked around its interior, discussing - almost as always - subjects that, although not purely concerned with the school’s academic procedures, would surely influence the development of the institution in the near future.
The Headmaster had been particularly restless for a couple of weeks, aware of the veiled threat to which the magical world remained blind. Several sources had confirmed the obvious: that Lord Voldemort was not dead, and a considerable number of his followers were becoming increasingly interested in bringing him back somehow.
"Is that why you turned to her?" Dumbledore was particularly amused by the whispering tone Minerva used every time they mentioned the Averys' middle daughter. "If you knew what they say in the Ministry, the things she has done - “
“I don’t care what she did. I care why, Minerva. We both know that the Minister and his beloved aurors are desperately trying to deny the evidence of his false death, so it is obvious that the censorship and degradation of a witch who tries to refute them by all possible means is their main strategy to follow.”
“Still, she uses dark magic, Albus. With astonishing ease and lethality, if the rumors are true." Minerva shook her head, deeply distressed. "As good as your intentions are, bringing someone like that to our school -“
A squawk distracted both at the height of one of the interior stone corridors overlooking the square courtyard. A crow of considerable size with what appeared to be a letter in its beak gave small jumps on the stone edge of the fountain adorning the centre of the structure.
Albus Dumbledore slowly approached the animal, followed at close range by Professor McGonagall who had not hesitated to pull out her wand. Both were fully aware that this being was not a mere animal.
Once the letter was collected, the crow spread its wings and squawked once more, taking flight. Dumbledore turned and smiled at Minerva, completely sure of the absence of danger in the message.
"What does the letter say, Albus?"
The director proceeded to open it, unable to avoid sighing surprised at the intelligence of the sender. The contents of the letter were encrypted, at first glance a mixture of letters forming unknown words that in turn chained phrases without any ostensible meaning.
“I think our answer has finally arrived.”
The wizard pulled out his wand, merely touching with it one of the letters of the document. The ink of the letters seemed to dissolve, going from its original black color to transform into a huge golden shining ribbon that came out of the paper to levitate in the air just in front of the two of them, who were watching the scene fascinated.
The golden cord spun, knotted and divided simultaneously, several times, contouring itself in the air to form new letters, which then joined to finally reveal the message.
“Dear Professor Dumbledore, it is my pleasure to have been summoned by a wizard of such renown as yours. I received your patronus, and therefore the message you wished me to receive. I will visit just a week before the start of the new academic year. I would have liked to have done it sooner, but some matters need to be settled before. I hope you understand.
My pleasure, Raven.”
Once read aloud by the recipient of the message, the words faded into dust, being swept away by the wind. Albus and Minerva remained there, still, doubtless surprised and at the same time thoughtful about what had just happened.
“I’ll inform Severus. This is more serious than we originally thought.”
“But wasn’t this our goal? To get Miss Avery to come and inform us of her progress?”
“My dear, this so talented witch has been hunting Death Eaters for years behind the Ministry’s back. She’s interrogated, tracked, and searched Tom Riddle’s entire entourage for any hint that would allow her to find him and finish what we couldn’t.”
“I understand that a task of such magnitude and dedication is not easily interrupted.”
“Indeed. The fact that it took me so little to convince her to come over, only strengthens my theory that the situation is much worse than we had formerly imagined.”
“I see." Minerva picked up her wand again as they both made their way back to the principal’s office. "And the Dursleys? Are they informed?”
Albus smiled but reflected no happiness in his gesture.
“Oh, I haven’t heard back yet. But believe me, I’ve made sure that wherever they go, our beloved owls are able to find them. As a final resort, we know that our Hagrid would be able to do anything to bring Harry back home.”
Minerva nodded, satisfied.
“Turbulent times are coming, Albus. I hope we are prepared.”
“We will be, my friend. We have no choice.”
Both professors disappeared into the interior corridors of the magnificent castle, their voices gradually losing intensity and clarity as they moved away from the courtyard. Neither had noticed a pitch-dark crow had been listening intently to their conversation, and now, having gathered all the information it needed, it was back on the flight to its next destination