Hermione Granger and the Talons of Fu Manchu

Hermione Granger and the Talons of Fu Manchu

Nikolaus Tumblety checked the time as he rushed out of his office in Diagon Alley. It was very late, far too late to be alone while this close to Knockturn Alley. But he couldn't risk waiting until morning and it would be too dangerous to send the papers by owl.

Tumblety knew perfectly well that the forces that wanted these papers were far too talented at the art of interception. The only course of action left to him was to deliver the papers to Dumbledore himself, before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named discovered whose hands they lay in.

Then, Tumblety heard it.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Nikolaus Tumblety turned slowly. It made that noise again.

"No," he cried,"the papers don't prove it. You're just a myth! You can't be real!"

The reality of death came for Nikolaus Tumblety in the form of two luminous green eyes.

___

Hermione was waiting outside the Leaky Cauldron when she heard the news. She had finished her fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry one month earlier and she had not seen Ron since school had let out. His message had instructed her to meet him outside of the Leaky Cauldron at ten-o'-clock precisely.

Yet, there she stood. Ten-fifteen, and no sign of Ron. Just because he could sometimes be tardy for class didn't mean...

Why am I getting all worked up over this, she wondered, could it be...?

Hermione shook the thought from her head just in time to see Ron running to meet her.

"Hi Hermione," he said, panting, "sorry I'm late. You're not mad are you?"

"Why should I be mad? You said meet you at ten and here it is ten-fifteen."

"So I'm a few minutes late. It's not my fault I lost track of time after I heard the news."

"What news?" Hermione's curiosity was peaked.

"WHAT NEWS!" Ron exclaimed, "Only that an Auror's been murdered!"

___

The crowd was thick by the time that Ron and Hermione arrived at the scene. After unsuccessfully attempting to navigate through the gawking masses, the two young sorcerers reluctantly sat on a nearby bench and listened to the rumors fly.

"It's terrible, isn't it? What curse could have done that?"

"That was no curse. Did you see all those scratches? Like claws or something."

"Oh, it's horrible! They're saying they can't identify the poison."

"What could you-know-who have conjured to do that to him."

Hermione sighed. While such inconsistent rumors were all based on hearsay, that last one had a point. Just what could the Dark Lord Voldemort have cast or conjured that would take an Auror by surprise? More importantly, why would he target Tumblety in particular?

Then, Hermione felt something. Somewhere nearby. In the crowd? No, it couldn't be. The other people would feel it too. She scanned their faces and realized that they all felt uncomfortable. It was as clear as day in their faces that someone or something was amongst them that made them feel...off.

Hermione looked to Ron and both of them realized that the other had felt it. The feeling that some invisible......force was in their midst. Admiring its handywork, but also taking care to cover its tracks. Laughing at their incompetence.

Hermione for one would not stand it. She knew more spells off-hand than practically any other witch her age. She had helped Harry Potter tackle some of the vilest threats that the magical world had ever seen. Were all those tomes of magic she had absorbed to be all for nought? Was her highly learned brain to be beaten by......something?

Hermione stood up suddenly.

"Come on Ron, we're going," she stated.

"What? Where?" stammered Ron.

"To meet someone I read about once."

As the two of them left, a pair of green eyes watched them from the crowd. A deep voiced chuckle was barely audible, as if someone was amused by the challenge that had just been issued.

___

The veiled woman led Hermione and Ron to the rear of the flat. It was early afternoon in London's Limehouse district and Hermione realized that it might not have been the best idea to bring Ron along. Aside from whining the for the last hour or so that they shouldn't get involved, he also made it perfectly clear that whatever that......energy was, it terrified him.

A real Prince Charming, she thought. Why did she think that? She observed his face for a moment. Did she think he was charming? No, that couldn't be it. But if not that, what?

Hermione realized that she was staring at Ron. He must have noticed too because he turned his head to look at her. She quickly avoided his gaze and blushed. Had he been thinking along similar lines as she? If so, would he have stared too?

Hermione pondered this as their veiled guide led them to the haunted room, and secretly wished it was true.

The ghost stood in the center of the dusty room. He tuned as they entered allowing Hermione a good look at his face. He was tall and gaunt. His face held a certain boyishness which complemented his years, and his skin possessed a coffee-like hue which even death lacked the power to erase.

Hermione addressed him cordially.

"Sir Dennis Nayland Smith?"

He nodded, regarding their guide with a suspicious glare as she exited.

"I'm Hermione Granger and this is..."

"Ronald Weasley," Nayland Smith interrupted, "correct?"

"Uh, yes," Ron stammered, "How did you..."

"I've heard of you two. Flying car, eh? Where's..."

"Harry's with his family for the summer," Hermione took her turn to interrupt. Maybe this was a mistake, she thought.

"I see," said Nayland Smith, "and what would you two want with me?"

Hermione related the morning's events with especial emphasis on the.....presence that she and Ron had felt. All the while as he listened, Nayland Smith tugged on the lobe of his left ear as if he was deep in thought.

"I thought that you could help solve the case," Hermione concluded, "After all I've read some of what Dr. Petrie wrote about you."

"What did you read?" Nayland Smith asked.

"Well, that he had great respect for you as a detective, that you had spent years in Burma..."

"You just read his notes," he seemed annoyed, "You didn't read his stories!"

"No," replied Hermione, "I don't care much for adventure stories."

"Then, my dear, you don't care much for your life! Or the lives of those whom this fiend would kill as well! Oh, he may have covered his tracks by hiding for so many years but I know his mark when I see it!"

"Whose mark?" Ron piped in.

Nayland Smith's face looked grim.

"You're both young mystics. Tell me, have you ever hear a myth among wizards called 'The Green-Eyed Man'?"

Both Ron and Hermione nodded at the mention of their childhood bogeyman.

"Oh I see the looks on your faces. You doubt my word. You suspect that I'm little more than an old fool for mentioning that ridiculous legend of a Muggle with artificial magic. But I tell you true that every myth has some factual base, and this myth's base is a man. A man so cunningly evil, few who face him ever survive. Any victories I've had against him can be chalked up to pure luck. Luck and experience. I'm familiar with all his techniques, all his pets, and all his instruments of torture."

Nayland Smith saw that he wasn't convincing the two. So he looked Hermione strait in the eye. She looked strait back into his. A silent tension mounted in the room before anyone had the nerve to speak.

It was Nayland Smith who broke the silence.

"Imagine a person, tall, lean and feline, high-shouldered, with a brow like Shakespeare and a face like Satan, a close-shaven skull, and long, magnetic eyes of the true cat-green. Invest him with all the cruel cunning of an entire Eastern race, accumulated in one giant intellect, with all the resources of science past and present, with all the resources, if you will, of a wealthy government--which, however, has denied all knowledge of his existence. Imagine this awful being, and you have a mental picture of Dr. Fu Manchu..." he trailed off, as if stopping himself from saying too much.

Hermione pondered Nayland Smith's theory. Could a Muggle have murdered Tumblety? It seemed unlikely, and there was still the matter of the presence that she felt.

"Sir Dennis," she said, "if what you're saying is true about this.....Dr. Fu Manchu, what was that feeling in the crowd? A Muggle couldn't possibly..."

"Ah, couldn't they," Nayland Smith interrupted again, "Dr. Petrie always told me that he felt a force of some kind while in the Devil Doctor's presence. Is it not impossible that you two felt the same force earlier today? He was probably disguised as someone in the crowd."

"But what would he be doing in the crowd?" Ron asked.

"Obviously trying to find whichever of his agents he used to kill poor Mr. Tumblety," Hermione answered before Nayland Smith had a chance to speak. Everything had fallen into place for her now. She was absolutely certain that she knew how Fu Manchu could have murdered Tumblety.

Nayland Smith must have noticed the certainty in her face.

"Yes," he said, "you'll make a wonderful witch someday, Miss Granger. It's just a shame that you're not a better judge of guides. Fu Manchu knows that we're onto him."

Both Ron and Hermione blinked.

"That veiled woman who led you here. Her name is Fah Lo Suee, and she is the daughter of Fu Manchu!"

___

Hermione and Ron combed Diagon Alley.

If Hermione's hunch was correct, then Fu Manchu couldn't have had much luck finding it with so many people about during the day. He would have to return at night, and that would be their best chance of finding him.

It wasn't easy for Hermione to sneak out after her parents had gone to bed. But after she managed it, she merely had to catch the Knight Bus to Diagon Alley where she met Ron and the two of them began their search.

Actually it was more like Hermione searched while Ron stammered on about something that sounded like "insane" and "comeplete suicide". Hermione sighed.

"Look Ron," she said, "tonight is our only chance to find it. If we do, it could lead us strait to Fu Manchu. If we don't, it will keep on killing."

"And what if it kills us?" Ron asked.

"It won't if we're..."

A sound cut off Hermione's sentence. It had announced its presence.

A black shape flashed past Ron's feet.

"Careful Ron," Hermione cried, "don't let it touch you!"

The shape rushed past them and disappeared into a nearby bush.

"You let it get away!" Hermione yelled.

"You said not to touch it," replied Ron.

The two of them creeped upon the bush. Suddenly it strutted out of its hiding place and gave the two a quizzical look. Ron laughed.

"It's a cat!" he stated "It's just an ordinary, stupid, everyday..."

"Look out Ron!"

Ron reached out to pet the animal. Suddenly, it sweeped its claws at him in warning. Ron jerked his hand away just in time.

"Its claws have been dipped in poison," Hermione explained, "that's how Fu Manchu murdered Tumblety. He trained it to attack a certain smell, and then somehow planted that smell on Tumblety."

Hermione reached under her jacket and retrieved a saucer and a carton of cream. She poured the cream into the saucer and placed it on the ground. Using a rag, she then proceeded to clean the venom from the animal's talons while it enjoyed the cream.

___

The tracing spell that Hermione had cast on the cat came in handy. It was not long before she and Ron were following it strait (they presumed) to Fu Manchu's lair.

The charm itself was a simple one. Prof. Flitwick had instructed it in a clear and concise manner. Hermione wondered why Ron didn't remember it.

There she was wondering about Ron again. Would he be wondering about her? She hoped so, secretly.

The spell had led them to London's Whitechapel district, where Fu Manchu or whomever had found the cat (possibly one of those dacoits which Nayland Smith had mentioned) had taken it.

The Whitechapel streets were frightening after dark. Being so close to the Thames, the London fog was at its thickest.

"Did you know," Hermione spoke to relieve her own tensions, "that this part of town was where Jack the Ripper murdered seven women? They never caught him you know."

"Why are you telling me this, exactly?" Ron whimpered

Hermione didn't hear him. She gazed into the fog and imagined that she could see the ghost of Mary Kelly.

"What?" excaimed Ron.

Hermione gave Ron a curious look.

"You just called me Mary," He said, "you said 'Bloody Mary.'"

Hermione didn't respond. Ron followed her gaze and gasped. Standing on the edge of the fog was a woman, dressed in white.

Ron rubbed his eyes. At first he thought that Hermione's story was getting to him. But when the phantom didn't go away, terror slowly creeped under his skin. The woman's throat was cut from ear to ear! With an outstretched finger, she beckoned them to follow her.

Hermione stepped forward. Ron was calling her, telling her not to go. But to her it was like a dream. The phantom woman spoke to her in ways other than mere words. Somehow, she knew everything would be all right if she just followed this apparition into this church.

Hermione got a little farther than the church door when everything went black.

___

Hermione woke to find herself in a small room, which looked to her as being of a typically eastern style. She tried to move, but found that she was bound with a thin but sturdy thread. She tried breaking it, but the thread merely dug into her skin.

Biting her lip to keep from crying out in pain, she looked about the room in an attempt to find something to cut her bindings with. Bookshelves lined the walls. A table, covered with beakers and tubes which would make Prof. Snape jealous, identified this room as some kind of laboratory.

But most of all, seated at a desk at the far end of the room and reading a book titled The Theory and Science of Atomic Fission was a man, whom Hermione could only identify as Doctor Fu Manchu. He did not seem to notice her at first, so she took the opportunity to study him.

Somehow, Hermione had imagined that Fu Manchu would have a moustache or beard of some kind. But this man was completely hairless, having shaved both his face and his strangely domed skull. His face seemed oddly pointed, having both a pointed chin and hooked nose. He was extremely thin, and he wore a long black robe and matching astrakhan cap. But most strangely, from underneath his brow shone two eyes of the most brilliant green Hermione had ever seen.

Finally, Fu Manchu put his book down and turned his attention to Hermione.

"Hello, Miss Granger," he said in flawless English, without the slightest hint of an accent and in a deep, guttural voice, "I trust you haven't been put through too much discomfort. Thanks to my daughter's skill at the art of disguise, you and your friend were captured with minimal unpleasantries."

Fu Manchu stood, revealing the full extent of his height.

"You mean," Hermione stammered, "that woman...?"

"Yes," he replied, "Fah Lo Suee is so talented with make-up. It was a good thing I also coated the animal's fur with a separate drug designed to make all who touch it open to suggestion. Temporarily, of course."

"Okay, I get how you did it," Hermione replied, "just tell me one thing; why did you murder Tumblety?"

Fu Manchu let out a diabolical laugh.

"My dear Miss Granger, I find your company most delightful. It's quite simple, really. I just wanted my papers back."

He began to pace about the room.

"You see Miss Granger, some time ago I discovered that the Si-Fan had been infiltrated. The infiltrator was a Death Eater. He managed to steal some papers which are very important to me."

The doctor reached within his robe and produced a small flower.

"Can you guess what this is?" he said.

"It's an orchid," Hermione replied.

"Yes, an orchid. This particular species grows only in Burma during very rare intervals. Many years ago, I distilled from this flower a particular liquid, which has aided me greatly. Can you guess what I use this liquid for."

Hermione thought for a second. Then she remembered that Fu Manchu was only a Muggle. She thought of Nayland Smith and what his age must have been when he matched wits with the devil doctor.

"Elixir Vitae," she said, "the Elixir of Life. The Death Eater stole your formula for the Elixir of Life!"

"Exactly!" said Fu Manchu, "Only I have improved on the traditional formula. My elixir not only restores aging cells, it also heals them. If Voldemort ever got his hands on those papers, he could live forever. Luckily, the Ministry of Magic intercepted them and they fell into the hands of Tumblety for translation. It's a good thing that I always scent my notes, just in case something like this should happen."

"And you trained the cat to attack that scent," Hermione interrupted.

Fu Manchu grinned and said, "Your knowledge surpasses your age. Imagine what we could accomplish if you joined me. Join the Si-Fan. Individually, we are powerful. Together, we would be unstoppable!"

The devil doctor extended his claw-like hand to Hermione, as if an offering of friendship. But the feeling of the thread digging into her wrists reminded her that even if she accepted his offer, she could not extend her hand to meet his.

"Never!"

Fu Manchu sighed. He returned to his desk and retrieved what looked like a vial. He picked up a syringe from the table and began fill it with the contents from the vial.

"No amount of torture will change my mind, Doctor," Hermione said, "my answer is 'no'."

"No torture," he said with his back turned, "no toxins, no venom. I've done much experimentation in regards to the effects that certain drugs can have on the human mind. Do you have any idea how many different forms of amnesia I can induce?"

Fu Manchu turned to face Hermione. His face no longer bore the look of one entertaining a guest. His eyes now held a malignant expression. His face was a mask of coldness.

"One day," he said, "events will come to pass that will make you wish that you had said 'yes'. When that day comes, I shall be waiting for you."

Syringe in hand, Dr. Fu Manchu descended upon Hermione.

___

Hermione was waiting outside the Leaky Cauldron when Ron arrived.

"Hi Hermione," he said panting, "sorry I'm late. Your not mad are you?"

"Why should I be mad," she replied, "you said to meet you here at ten and here it is ten-fifteen."

Ron began to babble some excuse about his mother saying they had met yesterday, when that was completely untrue. Hermione intentionally blocked out Ron's excuses and wondered why she ached so much.

"Anyway," he said, "I'm here now. Do you want to go get some Butterbeer or something."

"Uh...yes," Hermione stooped to pick up a scrap of newspaper which had distracted her.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"Oh," Hermione said, "someone's been murdered."

"Who?"

Hermione thought for a moment. She shook her head.

"Nobody I know," she said as she tossed the paper away.

THE END.