Hellfire in New York

Hellfire in New York

Chapter 9: Albus Dumbledore's Last Stand

Ginny neatly Apparated behind her opponent and raised her wand. An unbreakable grip clamped round her wrist, the wand dropped from nerveless fingers, and for what seemed like the umpteenth time that morning, her world turned upside down! The floor rushed up to meet her, and this time she managed to execute the breakfall! She rolled over and stared up at the strip-lighted ceiling, gasping for breath.

"WHAT IS YOUR MAJOR MALFUNCTION!?!" bellowed Wolverine. Ginny climbed to her feet and glared at him. He responded by snarling, "Don't you eyeball me, kid. You ain't got the right to eyeball me yet. Now drop and give me twenty!" He spun to confront the other three. "While she's doin' that, you can tell her what she did wrong. Charm, how do you use teleport in combat?"

Hermione snapped to attention. "Sir, teleportation is used either to escape or to gain advantage of terrain. In a combat situation, it should only be used to move out of close quarters, not into them, sir!"

"Good, but you shoulda told Firebird that. Did you tell her that?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Well, you didn't tell her often enough or hard enough. Teachers are responsible for students' mistakes. Drop and give me thirty!"

Wolverine rounded on Harry. "Hawk, when is the only time you teleport behind an opponent?"

"Sir, only when you are absolutely sure the opponent does not know you can teleport, sir!"

"Somethin' else you shoulda made sure Firebird knew. Fifty push-ups!"

"Hunter, if you do teleport in close combat, where should you go?"

"Sir, you should go to the opponent's weak side. If he's right-handed, go left, if he's left-handed, go right, sir!"

"And if you don't know?"

"Sir, if you don't know whether your enemy is left or right-handed, you haven't been paying attention, sir!"

"Right! Hunter, I put you in charge of trainin' these three. You done good, but not good enough. Thirty...on each arm!"

And so it went on. Logan didn't let up, driving them to their limits and beyond. Ginny had been warned. She had heard the stories, but they couldn't come close to the reality. She was a strong, determined young woman, but as the morning drew to a close, she was drenched in sweat, spots were swimming before her eyes, and her limbs were twitching and trembling. Just as she was sure she would disgrace herself by being sick, Logan clapped his hands and said, "Wind down!"

As Ron led the four through the gentle movements of a series of t'ai ch'i forms, Ginny found herself feeling much better. Wolverine ordered them to sit on the floor, and, to Ginny's surprise, passed out bottles of Malvern water. The stuff was room temperature and tasted rather flat, but Ginny sipped it gratefully, heeding Harry's warning to drink it slowly.

"I wish it was cold!" she complained, but Harry shook his head. "No, love. That'd cramp your stomach something rotten."

Ginny accepted this but whispered to Hermione, "This must be Hell at the wrong time of the month!"

Hermione shook her head. "Wolverine always goes a little easier when you're on, and of course, you can't hide it from him." She tapped her nose by way of explanation, and Ginny suddenly realised that Logan's abilities cut much deeper than just fighting skills. His enhanced senses made him almost as perceptive as Professor X!

Wolverine came and sat opposite them, looking from one to the other. "Well," he conceded, "you've kept up your trainin' better than I expected, considerin' you've had your NEWTs an' all. But I'd like to see you in tip-top shape.

"Charm, you know your physical limitations. You're small boned, and you're always gonna be frailer than these guys. Nothin' I can do about that, short of steroids! You score with the magic stuff; you know it backwards. But you still think too much, and it's gonna cost you! Thinkin' takes longer, even when you're as fast at it as you, darlin'. You gotta learn to trust your gut sometimes. Your body knows how to look after itself, but you gotta let it, OK?

"Hunter, you were born to fight, and you just lap it up, doncha? You know how to use your size, and you don't let your bulk slow you down. But you're gettin' to rely too much on what I taught you. Don't forget the magic, pal! You're a better wizard than you think. Where you fall down is that you try to think about the spells, and then you blow it! I saw the video of you fightin' that Sentinel last year: You cast the right spell at the right time, and why? 'Cause you didn't think! You just did it.

"Firebird, you're new at this, but you done real good! You're as much a natural as Hunter, here, and you like to fight, I can tell. You're also pretty hot on the witchy stuff. Your problem is that temper! A bit of adrenalin is good, but too much, and you make mistakes. Think about that; try to stay cooler.

"Hawk, you got the balance about right. You're not as strong as Hunter, but you're quick and you're as good a martial artist as I've seen in a while. You know when to use that and when to go for the magic instead. But, you got yerself a hero complex, bub! You try to take all the risk, all the danger, on yourself. You do dumb things to try to protect everyone else. News flash, Hawk - these guys can take care of themselves! You can't help anyone if you get yerself killed, and whatever you do, you're gonna lose someone at some point!"

"I've already lost too many people!" Harry said through gritted teeth. "Luna, Dean, Justin, Pansy: Too many, Logan! Too damned many!"

"You got off light, kid!" snapped Logan. "And it wasn't your fault, either. Nobody made those guys fight. They coulda surrendered, gone along with Voldemort. They chose to fight, accepted the risk, made their own decisions, just like you! Just like Albus and Severus!"

Harry glowered at the floor. With a quick glance at his friend, Ron asked, "What did happen down there, Logan? You've never actually told us."

Logan looked at Ron, then at them all. "I guess you should know. You deserve to, if anyone does." He closed his eyes to collect his thoughts, then began to speak in a soft, sad tone.

*****

Logan and Snape were steadily working their way down a case of beer that Saturday afternoon, swapping tales that were only a little above average height, when a strident wailing sound broke out.

Snape jumped to his feet. "The Castle is under attack! In broad daylight!" He turned to the Canadian. "I suppose that if I were to advise you to leave, Logan, I should receive a dusty answer?"

"Damn straight!" growled Wolverine. "Nobody orders me out of a scrap!"

"I thought as much. We had best-"

There was a polite but imperative knock at the door, which opened to reveal the tall figure of Professor Dumbledore. "Severus, I need- Logan? I didn't know you were here, old fellow!"

Logan stepped forward to grasp Dumbledore's hand. "I came over with the kids. I was gonna look you up, but Minerva said you were busy. I was plannin' to catch you at tea, or dinner. Looks like meals are gonna be on hold, though!"

"So it would seem," replied Dumbledore. "I suppose you have made your mind up to stay with us? I know Mr DaCosta, Miss Moonstar and Miss Blair are in the thick of things."

Wolverine grinned. "The bad guys are gonna regret makin' a daylight attack with Sunspot in town!"

"Several of them already do, I believe. But there is something else: My scrying glass tells me that there is another prong to this attack, using an almost forgotten tunnel that leads into the deepest dungeon. I planned to go there with Severus and try to forestall it to prevent us from being surrounded. You would be a valuable addition to the expedition, Logan, if you are willing?"

"Just try and stop me!"

"In that case, come along."

The three men made their way into the bowels of the castle, threading a maze of ancient stone passages. For Logan, there was a moment of intense nostalgia. Walking through scenes like this, with Albus Dumbledore at his side, took him back to his recently recovered memories of wartime London and a battle of wits with a mad, German wizard. He caught Albus giving him a reminiscent glance.

"Quite like old times, eh, Logan?"

The stocky Mutant grinned. "Yeah. I gotta admit, though, we could do with Anthea and the Commander along!"

Dumbledore nodded. "Andrew Carver was a stalwart companion. I sorely miss him. As for Anthea, the spirit remains more than willing, as I have had occasion to experience recently, but the flesh, alas, grows ever more frail."

"You two still sleepin' together?" Logan asked.

Dumbledore smiled. "When we have the inclination and the energy, yes. 'Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety', as the Bard has it."

"You dog!" Logan chuckled.

"By the way, she was delighted to see you again, Logan, though rather envious of your longevity. You must visit her soon. She cannot, as she insists, live forever."

The three came to a halt in front of a plain, wooden door. Dumbledore was about to speak, when Logan held up a hand, nostrils flaring. "They're already in there - humans and trolls, quite a few. From what I can hear, they seem to be waiting for more."

"We are a little late, it seems," Snape remarked.

"Late is better than never," Dumbledore replied. "This door opens onto a small landing at the head of a stairway. The stair hugs the wall on one side, but is open on the other. You two have youth on your side, so I want you to get to the other end of the chamber and seal the tunnel mouth. Then, if I can hold the head of the stairs, you should have no difficulty clearing the room. Shall we?"

"Ready Logan?" asked Snape.

"I got your back, pal," Wolverine told him.

Dumbledore opened the door and darted through, flinging two wizards from the landing and taking the head of the stairs. His companions followed quickly. Snape closed the door, then Apparated to the floor of the large chamber, which contained fully a dozen trolls and a number of wizards. Logan leapt after him, relying on his martial arts skills and his adamantium skeleton to absorb the impact of the drop.

The two men stormed forward side by side, Snape's wand flicking back and forth, Wolverine fighting as he had fought a thousand times before. As soon as they came within range of the tunnel mouth, Snape yelled "Reductio!". The tunnel collapsed with a satisfying rumble.

It was then that Logan was hit. A troll, more cunning than most of its kind, had played dead, and now rose up behind him and brought its stone hammer down on his head. The blow would have killed anyone else; as it was, Wolverine was out cold for a few seconds. By the time Wolverine recovered, a ring of bodies and living foes surrounded Snape. Logan could see that his friend's shield was wavering, and that the blood staining the side of his robe was Snape's own.

Without a word, Wolverine extended his claws and fell on the enemy like the Grim Reaper. Snape drew on his last reserves and attacked also. It seemed forever, but was only minutes, before the last troll went down under Logan's claws.

The two allies grinned at each other, then Snape slumped to the floor. Logan knelt beside his friend. "Severus, is there anything I can do?"

Snape shook his head. "No, Logan, I'm done. Perhaps this will redress the balance for me - make up for the folly and treachery of my youth." He clutched Wolverine's brawny arm. "Have a drink or two for me, my friend. Keep an eye on young Potter - unchecked, I fear he could become another Dark Lord. And Logan, give my...give my love to Marie. Tell her not to cry. I'm not worth her tears." His eyes glazed over, and he was gone.

Wolverine rose to his feet. He could hear the sounds of combat from the stairs. He would mourn later. Right now, he had a job to do!

The Death Eaters could only come at Dumbledore one by one, but in their eagerness, they had crowded onto the stairs. It was their undoing as Wolverine, in a berserker rage, ripped into them, taking them down in bloody shreds. They had nowhere to go and could not bring their wands to bear.

At the top of the stairs, Dumbledore redoubled his attacks. Not one Death Eater escaped. Together, Dumbledore and Wolverine killed them all.

Finally, they stood face to face on the landing. "Like old times indeed!" panted Dumbledore, who then clutched at his chest and fell forward into Logan's arms. As Wolverine lowered him gently, the old wizard gasped, "I believe I have overtaxed my heart. The penalties of age, I fear. Madame Pomfrey warned me.

"Logan, you must get up there. Minerva will need you, and so will Harry. Voldemort himself is here. I can feel him!"

"After I get you to the Infirmary, pal."

"No time, no need. A glorious end to a fine life, Logan! Ah, but we have heard the chimes at midnight, you and I! Tell Charles to look after Harry, and say goodbye to Anthea for me!"

Dumbledore smiled, and for the second time that day, Logan watched a friend die. It keeps on happening, he thought. I guess I'm always gonna be the last man standing!

Then a voice behind him said, "Crucio!" Through a red mist of agony, Logan saw a teenager in Hogwarts robes standing over them. One of the Slytherins - he knew the scent - Blaise Zabini!

The young man hissed at him, "I've failed my Dark Lord, because of you! But the turncoat is dead, and Dumbledore is gone at last. You, Muggle, you are going to pay for this humiliation!"

The boy couldn't know he'd cast the wrong curse at the wrong man. Logan bided his time, letting the black rage overcome the red pain. Then he growled, "Bub, you just made the worst mistake of your life. And the last."

Wolverine's claws snicked out as he lunged forward. Zabini lived long enough to scream once.

****

Logan finished. Harry had looked up from the floor and was staring intently at him. As their eyes locked, Ron thought, No wonder Wolverine scares Harry! Doing that must be like looking in a mirror for both of them! Try as he might to model himself on Dumbledore or Cyclops, Harry, in his refusal to compromise and his fierce intensity, resembled the hard-bitten Canadian far more than he did the other two.

Logan spoke softly, "Marie did cry. She cried her heart out. So did Anthea, but neither of them is bitter.

"I coulda done a lot of things different, Harry. I coulda taken a Portkey back to here, fetched the other X-Men. I coulda joined the fight in the rest of the school. I coulda picked up 'Berto, Dani and Ali and gotten the Hell outta there! But I didn't. I went with two of the best friends I ever had because they needed me, then and there. Oh, they'd never have admitted it, or stopped me doin' what I wanted to do, but I made my choice. It's no use regrettin' it.

"They made their choices, too. Albus knew his heart was weak. Poppy told me that she'd told him he wasn't good for any more fights. That's why he stayed outta the Keep thing. But his gut told him that this was the last battle, and he had to be in it!

"As for Severus, he had debts to pay. He'd been a Death Eater once - he was just a kid, didn't know any better. He'd done things that haunted him. Albus set him straight, but he still had a need to make up for his past. At the end, he believed he'd done that.

"I'm no better than either of them were, Harry. I came outta there partly through luck, and partly 'cause I'm damn near impossible to kill. But that part is just fate, or genes, or whatever made me a Mutant, along with what Stryker and Weapon X did to me. It wasn't my time to die. Maybe the next time will be, but I don't go lookin' for it."

Harry let out a long breath, and nodded. "You're right, Logan. Luna and the rest made their own choices. For that matter, so did Cedric all those years ago. He could have insisted on fighting me for the trophy, or letting me take it myself. He didn't run when he could have. I think Voldemort would have let him go - it was me he was after - but I always felt that if it hadn't been for me, none of them would have been in danger at all!"

"Wrong again, Harry," said Ron, in an unusually intense tone. "You can be really thick sometimes, you know? It was the Prophecy, the idea that he had to come after you first, that kept Voldemort from just overrunning our world. If all of us hadn't been convinced that we had to protect you, none of us would've been ready to fight him when he came for you. If Dumbledore hadn't sent you here to keep you safe for a while, we'd never have met the X-Men, and if Roberto and the others hadn't been there that day, we might not have won!"

Harry had never thought of it that way. Ron had always had a gift for seeing the bigger picture. Of all of them, Harry realised, his big, amiable, best friend was the least self-absorbed.

Logan sighed, then looked at the clock on the wall. "OK, you just got time to shower and change before lunch. Get plenty of protein, fluids, and carbs into you. You been usin' up energy and sweatin', too. Take some salt as well, but not too much. Report here tomorrow mornin'. You got some catchin' up to do!"

As they rose to go, Hermione murmured, "I'm glad Snape found somebody to care about him in the end. I feel guilty that I never could."

"Don't," Logan told her. "Marie could understand him. She knows how it feels to be an outcast. You don't. She couldn't be everythin' to him, but she was somethin' at least. If she'd been older maybe...." He shrugged, and left it at that.

The cafeteria, presided over by the motherly Mrs. Arbogast, was as crowded as ever. Harry and Ginny stood behind Hermione and Ron, half-listening as Mrs. Arbogast told Hermione the latest gossip about her sister-in-law, who worked for Mr Stark as his PA. As they began to make their selections, Kitty and Peter came up behind them. Harry looked back and said, "Shall I get the drinks?" The others nodded, then Kitty, eyeing Ginny's heaped plate, commented, "Ginny, honey, they do have salad here. I know you need to watch your figure!"

Ginny gave an exaggerated sigh. "I know, I know." Then she gave Kitty's slender form a sweeping glance and said, "Still, it's nice to have a figure to watch."

Harry and Peter rolled their eyes at each other. Harry turned to Mrs. Arbogast. "One tea with lemon, one black coffee, and two saucers of milk, please!"

Peter roared with laughter as both girls glared at Harry. He shook his head wonderingly. For reasons Harry could never fathom, Ginny and Kitty seemed perennially on the point of scratching each other's eyes out, yet whenever he or Peter made a comment, the two young women instantly closed ranks. Harry and Peter got on well, so why couldn't the girls?

He'd asked Hermione about it a few months ago, back at Hogwarts, and she'd shaken her head and rolled her eyes, saying, "Honestly, Harry! They say men come from Mars and women come from Venus, but I think you must come from Pluto!

"Look, Ginny's had a thing for you since she was ten, and you took not a blind bit of notice, did you? So she throws her hands up and goes out with other boys. Then you go off to America and fall into the arms of the first girl you see! No, don't interrupt! Imagine how Ginny must have felt when Marie told her you and Kitty were seeing each other.

"Then there's Kitty, who still has feelings for you, you know. But even while you were going out, she realised that you were meant for Ginny, even if you hadn't seen it yet. So Kitty gave you up. Venus only knows what it must have cost her.

"Ginny's afraid that Kitty will come along one day and take you back. Kitty, on the other hand, watches Ginny like a hawk in case she makes you unhappy. But they're both still women, and we women have to stick together when you lot start acting up!

"Gods, Harry, you can be so dense! I mean, you only have to see the way Marie looks at you sometimes to realise...but you know about that, don't you? And you've both decided not to. Oh, Harry!

"Even so, you've never even given a thought to how I might feel about you, have you?"

Harry had stared at Hermione in shock. Hermione had laughed and put her arms round his neck, saying, "Harry, if it hadn't been Ron, it would've been you, you great plonker!" Then she had kissed him in a way she had never kissed him before or since, grinned happily at him, and flounced off.

Neville had come up behind him and asked, "What was that in aid of?"

"Not a clue, mate!" Harry had admitted. "Maybe she lost a bet or something. I'll never understand women!"

"Me neither," Neville had agreed, "Mind, having seen the state of Lavender's handbag, I don't even want to think about what's in her head!"

*****

New York, New York, the town so nice they named it twice! thought Draco Malfoy sourly. He'd done some research into what many considered the greatest of Muggle cities, and found opinion sharply divided. To some, it was the only place to be, to others, it was Hell on Earth. Curious, he had decided not to Apparate or Portkey directly to the Hellfire Club but to travel the Muggle way. For someone of his resources, a passport in the name of Lord Draco Malfoy had been simple to obtain. He had flown into John F. Kennedy airport on a British Airways Concord, a quick but cramped flight, and was now seated in the back of a Yellow Cab, driven by a garrulous cabbie who introduced himself as Jake Lockley. Lockley was very impressed to have a 'fer-real Brit Lord' in his cab, and kept up a running commentary as he drove, pointing out the sights. Draco made polite noises, and tuned the man out.

What struck Draco most about this city was that everything was so new. By comparison with Malfoy Manor, founded in the 10^th Century CE, or thousand-year-old Hogwarts, or eon-weighted London, New York seemed built yesterday! A place of contrasts, he mused. Brash, confident and staunch in their independence, the Americans he had met so far had nonetheless responded promptly and eagerly to his clipped British accent and assumed title. He was jerked out of his reverie as Lockley suddenly slowed to a crawl, prompting an angry blare from the horn of the cab behind.

"Bite me!," Lockley shouted back, changing his tone to say, "We're comin' up to the Baxter Building. Ya gotta go slow here, 'cause weird things happen. Guy behind must be new, or he'd know that."

At that moment, the driver behind spotted a rare gap in the traffic and overtook their cab with another blast of his horn. Seconds later, there was a mighty crash and Lockley laughed nastily. "Knew it! Schmuck!"

Draco peered ahead. The overtaking cab had stopped short, and a cloud of steam was billowing from the front. As he watched, a massive figure loomed through the cloud. The newcomer was maybe six feet tall, but broader than any ordinary man, and he appeared to be made from orange stone! Some kind of golem? Draco wondered, then the figure spoke, yelling at the driver of the wrecked cab, "Hey! I'm walkin' here!"

Lockley stuck his head out of his window. "Go easy on the kid, Mr. Grimm. He's new!"

The rock-man nodded at Lockley. "Figures. Hi, Jake. 'S up?"

"Same old, same old. This here's Lord Malfoy, from England. Lord, this is Ben Grimm. They call him the Thing."

Grimm nodded at Draco, appraising him out of a pair of shrewd blue eyes, then turned back to Lockley. "Lemme get this wreck outta the road. Catch ya later for a brew?"

"Sure thing!"

The Thing creature turned and casually lifted the smashed taxi over his head, carrying it off towards the nearby skyscraper. Lockley drove on, and they reached the Hellfire Club without further incident.

Once inside, Draco was escorted through the public section of the club into a private elevator that whisked him, as far as he could judge, some distance below ground. He was shown into a room that looked more like a boudoir than a meeting-room. It was softly lit, furnished with couches and throw-cushions, and a musky scent hung in the air.

He didn't have to wait long before Selene slipped into the room and came toward him, both hands held out.

"Draco, at last! I've been looking forward to this meeting so much. Welcome to New York."

Selene was wearing a black business suit, the skirt of which was rather shorter than the norm, and the silk blouse she wore underneath had one or two more buttons undone than was strictly necessary. She was about 5' 6" tall, with a full, sensuous figure, long, raven hair and a vivid face, dark-eyed and full-mouthed. She squeezed Draco's proffered hand in both of hers, and leaned slightly forward, as if expecting a kiss on the cheek. When Draco didn't respond, she gave a little moue and said, "I've been away from England so long, I've forgotten how stiff people are there. We'll have to get you unstarched, Draco!"

She sat on one of the couches and patted the place beside her. Draco carefully seated himself on the couch opposite. Selene frowned slightly. Was it possible that the rumours she'd heard about his one were true? Bellatrix had mentioned that some at Hogwarts had suspected Draco of being gay. Well, if he was, there were ways to deal with that as well! Aloud, she said, "Oh well, if you're going to be all business, I'll indulge you. But we mustn't be all work and no play, Draco. Promise me we can relax together later?"

Draco shrugged. "As you wish, Selene, but we do have a lot to discuss."

Behind his bland expression, Draco's mind was working furiously. Her obvious sexiness had as little effect on him as he had expected, but there was something else. Selene was not a large woman, but her presence seemed to fill the room, and he'd found it harder than he expected to resist her whims. She seemed to glow or glitter somehow, but there was a falseness about it all.

Then he had it: She must be using a Glamorus Potion! He had seen the recipe once, in a book on Snape's private shelf. It was one of those potions regarded as slightly suspicious; it skirted the Dark Arts in a way. It made users intensely charismatic, drawing everyone's attention to them, and making them hard to refuse. Wizard performers occasionally took small doses, though the practice was regarded as something of a cheat. In large doses, it made the user almost impossible to disobey. Draco had occasionally suspected Harry Potter of using it. How else could such an unimpressive individual inspire such loyalty, or capture and hold the hearts of both a wayward little tart like Ginny Weasley and the ice-queen Pansy?

The realisation had taken only a few seconds, during which Selene had abandoned her seductive pose, and now sat upright facing him. "All right, then, business for now," she allowed. "I'll admit something a little urgent has come up. Draco, I want you to tell me everything you can about Harry Potter and his friends."

"Potter? Why?"

"Because I've just found out that he's here, in America, not far away. Now I have some British wizards here who used to work for Lord Voldemort. They work for me now, and if Potter is coming after them, I need to be able to protect them."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Potter's at Xavier's mansion, I take it? With the X-Men? No doubt the Granger woman and the two Weasleys are with him?"

Selene nodded. "There's also a Sirius Black, another Weasley - William, I think - a werewolf called Lupin, a British Auror named Nymphadora Tonks, and that French witch who's seeing Cyclops."

Impressive, thought Draco. It looks as if Harry and I will finally be on the same side! He smiled coldly at Selene. "Well, I'll certainly tell you as much as I can, but Potter and I were never close, so it won't be very much."

Liar, Selene said to herself, but it doesn't matter, dear Draco. You'll be mine soon enough, then I'll know all I need to know to dispose of Harry Potter - and of you!