Harmony Not Understood

Harry yawned silently as Meaghan McCormack, Portree’s Keeper and Captain, started her Oliver Wood style talk. Normally, Harry would sit and listen without complaint. But today, he’d had an extremely boring trip to Skye. Normally, he would have been joined on the journey by Orenda, who was a life-long supporter. But apparently, Fudge was working the whole of the Ministry to death in an attempt to beat Ron, Hermione and Remus to the murderer. So Harry had had to brave the long trip alone, losing the humorous kickstart to the day Orenda provided.

Meaghan suddenly brought him to his senses. "Potter! Wake up laddy, we’ve got a match t’win! Y’dad would not be too pleased with ye if he knew ye were fallin’ asleep on yer broom now would ‘e?"

Harry’s face fell gloomily. "No Meaghan. Sorry Meaghan." He sighed.

That got a chuckle from everyone. Meaghan smiled. "No need t’sound so enthused laddy." The woman continued with her strategy talk on the chalkboard for quite a while when a bell rang shrilly through the hushed changing room. Meaghan looked them all over. "Well laddies and lassies, time for ye t’go and demolish the opposition as usual. Have Pride in the Portree."

With a grin, the group recognised the cue for their time-honoured pre-match ritual. All of the team put a hand in to the middle of the circle before raising them to the roof yelling, "Pride in the Portree!" Motivated, they all stalked out into the tunnel.

As normal in home games, the other team went out first. Then it was Portree’s turn. All mounted up, ready to fly out when their name was called. The announcer was easy to hear as he started, leading out Harry’s team-mates so fast, they were purple blurs in his vision.

"McCormack...Porter...Read...Kennedy...Bond...Cadman......and...."

Harry braced himself.

"POTTER!!!"

Harry swooped out amid loud cheers. That was what you expected as an International Seeker. Smiling, he flew high above the pitch to hover alone above the game as the referee blew her whistle and Wigtown took the Quaffle.

* * * * *

Little happened at the beginning of the game. Both Meaghan and her Wigtown counterpart pulled off save after save, getting more and more spectacular as the game progressed. And at twenty apiece, there was still no sign of the Snitch.

Harry had completed his 12 full circuit of the ground when something caught his eye. But it wasn’t the Snitch. In the stands at the Portree end, a figure stood was everyone else around them strained to see the action at the Wigtown hoops. Reaching into it’s dark cloak, the person produced a wand, and to Harry’s horror, aimed it at Meaghan.

Harry didn’t think twice. He started at full speed. As soon as he was in shouting distance to his captain he yelled at the top of his voice.

Meaghan slothed, an unusual move used by a Keeper to avoid bludgers, which involved them turning so that they hung upside down from their broom. As she swung under her broom, Meaghan saw a flash of green light pass straight through the place her head had been. Its path un-interrupted, the emerald jet carried onto the other side of the stadium, where it hit an advertising board and rebounded back. Meaghan watched as it passed overhead for a second time. The spell continued on its way until it reached the stand from where it originated. There it hit a black cloaked figure. The creator. The victim of the ‘return to sender’ did not scream. As people all over the ground gasped as one, the body tipped over the barrier, to fall and land heavily on the pitch below.

The players didn’t know quite what to do. They hovered uncertainly, not daring to fly down to the body. Harry and Meaghan glanced once at each other, before diving simultaneously.

*****

Another black-swathed person sitting in the opposite stand scowled bitterly. Damn Potter. Damn McCormack. Damn fanatics like Nilorn. A botched job and now the wrong person was dead. From now on, killing was a personal thing. Couldn’t risk this happening again. As everyone around talked quickly in shock or gaped, the figure moved un-noticed from the stadium.

*****

As a Seeker, Harry had found he needed to keep his weight down, just like a Muggle race jockey. Because of this, he was the lightest member in the team, and with the added bonus of being a dive expert, he easily beat Meaghan to the body. Jumping off his broom, he knelt down by it for a better look. He pushed the hood back from the corpse’s face.

It was a man. He had olive brown skin, which was slightly weather beaten and quite dry. The panic-stricken dark brown eyes stared through Harry to a place far distant. Messy black hair stood up in all directions, adding to the deadly visage.

Meaghan walked up behind him and gasped. "Sandum Doesa Malci Netum." she muttered under her breath.

Harry looked up. Before he could ask the woman anything, Hermione, Ron and Lupin ran up, faces pale but resolute.

Hermione was the first to ask anything. "What was that you just said then Meaghan? I didn’t hear it clearly, but I thought it was Latin."

Meaghan looked at her, "It wasn’t Latin. Y’wont understand it lass."

Hermione shrugged. "Try me."

Meaghan sighed and repeated the phrase. "Sandum Doesa Malci Netum."

Lupin frowned. "I didn’t know that you spoke Miserarne Meaghan."

The woman rose her eyebrows. "An’ why shouldn’t I? I am one, so I’m supposed t’ me lad."

Harry gaped, "You’re one of the Miseresse?!?!"

"Yes, thanks t’ me Dad. He was a Selkie. Met me Mam, she fell in love, had me an’ me twin, an’ he left. How they are. Their only true love is for the sea."

"So what did you actually say?" asked Ron seriously.

"It’s a sea-fae sayin’ me lad. Land eyes never lie."

"Why d’you say that?" the red head persisted.

"Because she knows who this man is." Said Lupin quietly. "Selkies always trust their eyes on land. What they see is always truth. Their eyesight in seal form is very bad you see. Anyway, Meaghan here is basically saying that though she can’t quite believe who this is, it’s definitely their body."

The woman nodded, "Exactly right. Always as sharp as a seasnake weren’t ye Remus. Anyway, I knows him all right. His name is Nick Nilorn."

Hermione frowned, "Who’s he?"

Meaghan looked up from the bearded corpse. "He was in Hufflepuff. Half Muggle. Remember the lad sayin’ once that he was no good at Muggle subjects, especially creative writin’. Thats the only conversation I ever remember havin’ with him."

Harry shook his head. "I still dont get why he wanted you, or any of the rest of them dead. It doesn’t make sense."

Meaghan shrugged. "Wavalo Trintan Salva."

Lupin looked at her, "Just say it for them in English, they dont know Miser-"

Suddenly Hermione, who had been very quiet, slapped her thigh. "Thats it! Of course! Oh why didn’t I thin of it before!"

Everyone turned to look at her. Harry frowned. He knew that she has discovered something important by the brightness of her brown eyes. "What is it Herm?" he asked quietly.

There on the pitch grew a deadly silence, though everyone in the stands continued talking. Hermione took a deep breath before she spoke. "I’ve just found a link. So far, when we’ve been looking at parentage, we’ve always looked for any Muggles. But it’s not to do with that. Not at all."

She inhaled deeply again, "Look at all the victims. Ayanna Astuci was part banshee. Duncan Dhaet was a quarter woodelf. OK, so Salsang’s father could have been anything, but the Delacours have Veela blood. And Meaghan here is half Selkie. So..."

Ron looked at her, nodding with slow realisation. "So, assuming that Salsang was either a wild card, knew too much, or the killer knows something about her blood that we dont, then all the people targeted are Miseresse."

Lupin blinked hard. "The riddle...."

Hermione looked at him curiously. "What about the riddle."

"Remember the words....’It’s but the first action of my lead.

Against those who can by nature read

All that is written here.’

It’s obviously talking about the Miseresse...why didn’t I think of it before now!?!?"

Meaghan patted his arm. "It’s not yer fault Remus. Ye weren’t t’know"

Harry frowned even harder, "One thing I don’t get. I thought you said Miseresse isn’t spoken Remus?"

"I did."

"But..."

"Harry, Meaghan hasn’t been speaking Miseresse. She’s been speaking Miserarne. That’s the language of the sea-dwelling Miseresse. You see, in the water, a written language is off little use. So they developed a spoken one. However, only those descended from sea-Miseresse, like Meaghan here, have Miserarne in their blood. I, like all other land dwellers, had to learn it from a book. Its a necessity if you want to understand what our underwater friends are talking about."

Meaghan glanced at him, "Except for the Merpeople. You’ll only get Mermish from them. Total snobs who haven’t the brain capacity for more than one language if you ask me."

Shrugging, Harry looked over his shoulder to see two wizards in Ministry robes running over. About time they showed up, he thought with mild annoyance. With a nod to the others, he started off in the direction of the stands. They followed.

* * * * *

As the group passed the two Ministry wizards, Hermione stopped to ask them a quiet question. The men nodded emphatically to her, before continuing their jog to the body. When she caught up with him, Harry gave his friend a confused look. "What was that about?"

She looked up at him blankly. "I told them to send any documents they find on the body to me. They might lead us to the new target, maybe soon enough to protect them."

"Next target! But surely, now he’s dead..."

"He’s obviously not the main one Harry. Whoever this killer is probably told Nilorn to take this one to avoid getting themself caught murdering someone in public. And you heard what Meaghan said. He was rubbish at creative writing. He couldn’t have written that riddle himself."

Harry shook his head grimly. "I sometimes wonder whether we’ll ever get to the bottom of this."

Hermione squeezed his shoulder, "We will, we will. In time. At least now we know the motive. We’ve got a foundation. Tides always change. No one keeps winning forever," she sighed, "C’mon. Lets get back, we’ve got a lot to do."

* * * * *

When they got back to the office 5 hours later, tired, cold, and bearing pieces of paper from Nilorn’s robes, they were greeted at the door by Lyca. She waited until they had put their stuff down before giving Harry a quick peck on the cheek. She then handed him a letter. "This came a couple of hours ago. It’s addressed to the four of you."

Harry looked at the other three with a slightly worried expression before opening the envelope. Unfolding the parchment inside, he read it out loud.

"So Nilorn was a idiotic fool

But he was only a tool

Do not believe this is the end

There will be more funerals to attend

This incident will not make my issues sink

Death is close to home, but not where you think."

He frowned before gazing at the rest of them. "What is that supposed to mean?"