Reckoning Night

Chapter 2

Sam stared at the empty glass case in disbelief, knowing the others were doing the same. Her mind was racing. It must have been the Goa'uld who took the object. He was the only one besides them who could potentially know that it was somehow related to the Ancients' technology, and he was the only one who might actually know what it was and what to do with it.

"You have no idea who took it?" Daniel asked Dr Smith, who shook his head.

"No, it was just ... gone. There were no signs of forced entry, no alarm, not even the glass case is damaged or broken. We haven't noticed it missing until we came here this morning." Dr Smith looked like he was close to desperation.

"How was the glass case secured?" Sam asked, trying to come up with possibilities.

"The case itself has no alarm attached, but it was locked and could not have been opened without the right key. It was still locked this morning, but the artefact was gone."

"Who has the key?" Jack asked.

"The museum's director. But he keeps a close watch on his keys, and I see no reason why he would have let the artefact disappear from his own museum."

"Simon, if we find something out, we'll let you know," Daniel said, trying to calm the man down, even though he sounded quite nervous himself. "Have you reported it to the police yet?"

Dr Smith nodded. "They were here this morning. But they don't have any clues, either. It's just ... maybe I'm stressing too much over this, but for some reason I feel guilty because I let you in here yesterday."

"Simon, you *are* stressing too much over this," Daniel said, putting his hand on his shoulder and nudging him gently towards the exit. "If anyone else knows things about the artefact he shouldn't know, he didn't get it from us." He glanced at his watch. "How about we go eat dinner now as planned, relax, and don't worry about this for a while."

Dr Smith took a deep breath and then nodded. "Okay, sounds good. I know a few good places to go eat around here. Maybe you are right, there is nothing we can do about it right now so I could as well keep my worries for later."

"You go find a place to eat," Daniel said when they were leaving the museum. "I'll go back to the hotel to drop off my notes and stuff, I don't want to carry them around all evening. I'll follow on later!"

-----

"How could a fully-trained Auror lose a fight against a single Death Eater?" Sirius looked at what remained of the Order of the Phoenix, challenging them to come up with an answer that would justify Mallory's death.

Moody's normal eye looked back, equally challenging, while his magical one was busy with something at the back of his head. "How do we know it was just one?"

"Well, the voice recorder only picked up the voices of Mallory and one other person, so I think it's safe to assume there weren't any more."

"Hm," Moody grumbled, but didn't object. Sirius was sure he already had a whole list of possible scenarios that would explain how an entire army of Death Eaters could battle against an Auror in a small Muggle hotel room without making any sound that could be picked up by the recorder.

"It's not like Mallory was a squib or anything. I know he was young, but he was also an experienced Auror and he really should not have lost against a stupid Death Eater unless he had really rotten luck and slipped on a banana peel or something."

Snape's silky voice was not exactly what Sirius had wanted to hear, though.

"Are you saying this because it's a fact, or because you want it to be true?"

"He happened to be one of the few wizards who could master the Coil of Flames spell," Sirius shot back.

"Well, it didn't help him much."

Sirius was on his feet in an instant, ready to leap across the table at Snape's throat, but Professor Dumbledore's intervention stopped him from doing just that.

"Severus, I must ask you to keep your cynicism to yourself--"

Sirius slowly sat down on his chair again, a smug grin starting to form at the corners of his mouth.

"--and you, Sirius, to keep your temper in check."

The grin turned into a scowl. Sirius was about to protest, to point out that it was Snape who had started it, but Dumbledore didn't let him get a word in edgeways.

"We have a significant problem here, and it is already worse than I thought. I have not mentioned this to you yet, but I feel now is the time that I have to bring it up. There has been a change in the power of magic, which I have been noticing all of my life, but it has now become more apparent. The most advanced spells that I know have been failing more and more frequently, and now suddenly the less complex spells seem to be affected as well."

"Excuse me, but the spells the Aurors use can hardly be called simple," Tonks jumped in. "Even in training they don't always work without failures. Not that I don't trust your spellcasting abilities, Professor," she added hastily, "but isn't it possible that it's just lack of skill that makes a spell misfire, instead of some ... well, higher power?"

"This is what I thought at first, too. It's impossible to tell when it's just lack of skill that makes a spell fail or misfire, and when there is something more behind it, but there are too many strange coincidences for my liking."

"What would interest me more is this new weapon the Death Eater mentioned," said Moody, giving Snape an inquiring look.

Snape merely looked back. "I know of no such weapon."

Sirius couldn't resist giving a snide remark. "Maybe you aren't important enough to be let in on a secret that big."

"I'm sure Severus will inform us if he hears any more about this," said Dumbledore, stopping a new argument from breaking out. "I think we're done here for today. Sirius, I suggest you return to the hotel and see if you can find out anything else. And Alastor, I'd be very grateful if you could assist Harry again this evening with his advanced spells. He still has much to learn before he is ready."

-----

Earlier that day, they had brought the body away and cleaned up the room. Now Remus was sitting on the bed, waiting. It had occurred to him that they still hadn't spoken to the people in the room next to Mallory's, so he had volunteered to stay and wait for them while Sirius told the others what they had found out.

Finally, he heard a key being turned in the lock of number 118. He was just getting up when he heard someone raise his voice. "Hey, who're you?" From his way of speaking, he sounded like he was American. It also sounded like someone had met someone else he hadn't expected to find there.

Carefully, Remus opened his own door to see what was going on. The door to number 118 was ajar, and a creepy, dual-toned voice was coming from the room now.

"Where is the weapon of the Ancients, Tau'ri?" He sounded hostile enough for Remus' hand to reach for his wand that was hidden in his belt, but he had to remind himself that he was still dealing with Muggles here. He wouldn't touch his wand unless absolutely necessary. Remus edged closer, trying to see something and at the same time stay undetected.

"I don't know what you mean," said the first voice, and was abruptly cut off by a gurgling sound.

"You know very well what I mean. You even have a picture of it right here!"

The first man seemed to have gotten his voice back. "Oh, that ... Actually, we thought you had it."

"Do not lie to me, Tau'ri!" shouted the odd, metallic voice, and Remus could hear someone being hit and objects impacting somewhere. A crash sounded like a table being overturned.

Muggles or not Muggles, Remus knew he had to do something. Determined, he grabbed his wand and carefully pushed the door open, keeping close to the wall to avoid being in anyone's line of fire. He came just in time to see someone climb out of an open window opposite the door. Before he could check where he went, his attention was diverted to the unmoving body lying amongst the chaos on the floor. He was young, maybe in his late twenties, had collar-length brown hair and must have at some point worn the glasses that were lying near him on the ground. A bleeding gash on his temple was oozing blood.

Remus crouched down next to him and checked his pulse. Much to his relief, he found the pulse; it was fluttering madly like a Snidget's wings under his fingertips, but it was there. Remus tried to decide what to do next. It was clear that the young man was deeply unconscious, and the cut on his head looked rather nasty.

Only now did he notice the faint trickle of blood in the corner of his mouth. Alarmed, Remus checked for a wound inside the mouth, and when he found none, lifted the man's t-shirt to check for broken ribs. His fear was confirmed -- there was a rather large discolouration on his chest, under which Remus could feel a slight bump in the bone. The broken rib must have punctured his lung. The man needed a Healer pretty damn quick.

First, Remus had to make sure the injured man didn't choke on his own blood, so he rolled him on the side, even at the risk of causing more damage to the broken rib. Then he tried to remember how to call a Muggle doctor. There was a telephone on the nightstand, but Remus was sure by the time he got it to work, it might already be too late. Besides, he didn't really trust the Muggle medicine enough to put the man's life in their hands. Without a moment's hesitation, he shot three blue sparks into the air, which disappeared through the ceiling. Then he sat down next to the prone figure on the ground, made sure he was still breathing, checked his pulse again, and waited.

There was a loud *bang* outside, which announced the arrival of the ambulance car, and quick steps could be heard approaching. Remus opened the door to let the two wizards inside.

"You set off the emergency alarm?" one of them asked.

Remus nodded and gestured at the injured man. "He's in a pretty bad shape. I suspect he has a broken rib."

One of the Healers did a quick check on him and asked, "Is he a Muggle? What happened here?"

"I'm pretty sure he is a Muggle, yes. I'm not so sure about what happened, I think he was assaulted by a burglar."

"You know we can't take Muggles in."

Remus would have rolled his eyes if the situation hadn't been so serious. "What does it matter? Can't you see the man is dying?"

"But--"

Remus couldn't believe they were wasting time with silly arguments. "I'll take full responsibility if that makes you feel better. My name is Remus Lupin. Now just go!"

Finally convinced, the two conjured a stretcher and Levitated the body onto it. Remus walked downstairs with them to the car. The Muggle Repelling Charms that protected it had conveniently made the receptionist fall asleep.

"I can't come with you right now, but I'll follow later. Make sure he stays alive, I need to talk to him."

"Do you know his name?"

"I've heard someone else call him Tau'ri, but it sounds kind of strange for a name. He can probably tell you when he wakes up."

Remus watched as the ambulance pulled into the street and vanished with a *bang*. Then he went back upstairs and started cleaning up the mess. His eye was caught by a magazine clipping that had at one point fallen onto the floor. It had a picture which showed a strange, cylindrical object and a small note that basically said that no one knew what it was. Was this the device the burglar -- for lack of a better word -- had been talking about? Remus made a mental note to ask about this, finished cleaning up, and left the room.

-----

Harry cast the Freezing Spell for the third time, but the water in the bowl was still unchanged. A thin film of ice had formed on the surface, but the rest was still liquid. Harry sighed. "It was still working last week. Why does it fail all the time now?"

Moody fixed both of his eyes on him as if he wanted to look into Harry's head, trying to find out what was the cause for the failures. "You are not trying hard enough," he growled in his usual gruff manner, but Harry thought he heard a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"I told you, I can do the spell. Rather well, actually. It has worked before, and I know it should have worked now, too."

"It's not an easy spell. You need to practise more."

Harry walked through the empty classroom, trying to work off his frustration. "I did practise. I thought the spell would be no problem anymore. But you know what? I've noticed spells failing or misfiring more often, the harder they are. Which I would put down to not mastering them because they are so difficult, if it wasn't for the fact that I'm starting to have problems with the simpler spells as well, the kind of spells that I know in my sleep. Not all the time, but occasionally. Every now and then. And I'm not the only one. There is something fishy going on if you ask me." Unfortunately, no one asked him, he added in his mind.

Moody looked like he wanted to reply to that, but then decided not to. Instead, his magical eye abruptly swivelled towards the door, a second before a knock was heard. Without waiting for a reply, Neville practically barged into the room, trying to catch his breath.

"Mr Moody ... you have to come ... to the Gryffindor common room ... immediately ... we have a problem."

Moody looked at Neville for a few beats, then back to Harry. "The only advice I have for you now is to practise, and practise more, or you won't stand a chance against You-Know-Who."

Then he rushed off in the direction of the Gryffindor common room as fast as he could with his wooden leg, Harry and Neville following him closely.

"I hope you do stand a chance against You-Know-Who, Harry," Neville remarked, trying to keep up with their fast pace. "But honestly, I don't envy you. If it was me who had to learn all those extra spells besides all the work for the NEWTs, the world would be doomed. I mean," he amended, "I'm glad it's not me, but I wish it wasn't you either."

"Consider yourself lucky," Harry said drily. He couldn't blame Neville for feeling the way he did.

The Gryffindor common room was in chaos. Several students were sporting bleeding gashes or torn clothes, but it took Harry a moment to spot the source of the trouble. A small ball of orange fluff was zooming through the room, hissing and screeching furiously, attacking random students viciously. Some of the older students were trying to hit the creature with spells, but it always dodged out of the way with great dexternity.

"It's Crookshanks!" Hermione shouted, trying to make herself heard over all the noise. "He's running amok, I haven't a clue why!"

Moody had grasped the situation immediately and was trying his best to prevent further damage. "All students go to their dorms at once, and close the doors until I tell you to come out. Harry and Neville, you stay back at the entrance, and don't try to cross the room."

Everyone followed his request immediately, although they had difficulties keeping Crookshanks from trying to follow them. Eventually, the cat was left facing Moody alone, arching his back, his long fur bristling. He was watching Moody with great interest, as if he wanted to assess his new enemy.

"Neville, Harry, I want you to cast a Stunning Spell on the count of three. Neville, you aim to his left and Harry to his right."

All three of them shouted "*Stupefy!*" at the same time, and Crookshanks, who made a leap to the left to evade Moody's spell, ran right into Harry's. He collapsed into a heap of orange fur.

"At least the spell didn't let me down this time," Harry said with relief.

Moody walked over to the cat and nudged it with his foot. When Crookshanks didn't react, he turned around to Neville. "Neville, please go and get Professor Dumbledore. I think he might want to see this for himself."

Neville nodded and ran off. Moody walked around the cat slowly, studying him with his normal eye, while his magical eye kept glancing at the doors to the dorms. Then he cast what Harry recognized as a Detection Spell on Crookshanks. Harry hadn't learned the spell himself, but he knew it was used to find out what kind of spells had been affecting a person or object very recently.

A frown creased Moody's forehead, but when Harry asked what he had found out, he said, "I want to hear Albus' opinion first."

The headmaster returned with Neville in tow. "Neville has told me what happened here. Is everyone all right?"

"Some of the students need to go to the hospital wing when we're finished here, but as far as I could see, there is nothing serious," said Moody. "My Detection Spell gives me a rather alarming result, I want you to check it, as well, just to be sure."

Professor Dumbledore did so, and frowned as well. He gave Moody an inquiring look. "I'm getting a Stunning Spell, and before that -- the Imperius Curse?"

"That's what I wanted to have confirmed," said Moody gloomily.

"But how is this possible?" Neville asked. "Wouldn't the castle's protection spells prevent such a thing?"

"Unfortunately, the castle's protections cannot stop this spell from being cast inside the castle," Dumbledore explained.

Neville's eyes widened. "You mean there was someone in the school who put Crookshanks under the Imperius Curse?"

"The Slytherins, no doubt." Harry couldn't stop that bit from slipping out. He wouldn't put it past them.

"Don't be so quick in your judgement, Harry," Dumbledore said. "You know the Unforgivable Curses are very advanced magic, even the Slytherins do not have that much power, yet. It is true that the Imperius Curse cannot be cast from the outside of the castle to affect someone inside, but Crookshanks frequently wanders around on the grounds, doesn't he?"

Harry finally understood where this was going. "You mean someone could have easily put him under the Curse and let him go back inside?"

"Exactly," Dumbledore said. "But in order to keep the control on the cat, the spell must be actively kept up by the caster, which should, in theory, not be possible because of the castle's protections. And those protection spells are something I have not felt growing weaker."

"That can only mean one thing," Moody concluded. "The other spell that went right through the protection spells -- the Imperius Curse -- must have grown considerably stronger."

Harry looked at Neville, then at Dumbledore, then at Moody, trying to comprehend the implications of this suggestion. He startled when a large tawny owl started pecking loudly against one of the windows. Neville went to let it in, and it swooped around the room in a circle, finally landing on Harry's shoulder. As soon as Harry had taken the letter that was tied to its leg, the owl lifted off again and disappeared through the window.

Thoroughly confused, Harry unfolded the letter. It had no mention of the sender's identity, just a message written in large red letters.

*This was just a test.*

Harry yelped and let go of the parchment when it suddenly caught fire. It burned itself to ash, leaving only a smouldering stain on the floor of the Gryffindor common room.

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