Roulette

Roulette

======

I am an Auror. A top-ranked Auror. I am no ordinary wizard. I'm just Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, and The Savior of the Wizard World, The Bane of Voldemort. I just saved the world from the brink of a madman's conquest. The story of the Dark Lord's defeat still never dies to this day. I'm getting tired of all of this crap. But that's not what I'm trying to say right now. This is something different.

So here I am. In the hospital seeing my favorite arch-nemesis - Draco Malfoy. It's St. Mungo's, where else? That one hell of an asshole languished in the hospital for the past month. He's been paralyzed since our last encounter. He's a lunatic. He still refused to stop even after You-Know-Who's defeat in the Second War. Another of Voldemort's fanatic followers. A Death Eater, just like his father, Lucius. Everybody knows that the Malfoys are die-hard followers of Voldemort, the puppets of the master.

I'm holding something in my hand. The robes of an Auror surround my body. No one sees what I'm carrying, except for myself. No one sees my wand tucked into my pants. I raise it to show to you what I'm trying to do today. This object I'm holding is something small. There's a handle, with a six-centimeter barrel at the end. On top of it is a hammer also simply known as the safety pin. In the middle is the gun chamber, a chamber able to be rotated that holds six- 9 mm projectiles. And finally, there's a firing pin. It requires only one finger to pull the trigger.

Do you know what this thing is I'm holding, Malfoy?

This is a 45-caliber revolver, manufactured in England. Smith and Wesson's .45 gun. They called it the Magnum Force. It is one of the most popular handguns in England, used only by some, unlike the common 38 caliber used by every Muggle policemen. It has a quite decent firepower. Its accuracy is far superior to any other handgun. But it needs good handling and a precise angle to get an accurate shot. Too bad you don't even know what this is about. I've told you from the beginning; never insult someone that is not of your kind. You think this is funny? Calling people like my best friend Hermione a Mudblood? It won't do any good. You don't even know what's in the Muggle world. Eventually, you got yourself into trouble, like now.

That's not funny, Malfoy. Now you understand it. Too bad you can't talk, move or walk right now. I doubt you'll be able to walk again should they discharge you from the hospital.

The Magnum is not a target pistol. Nor is it useful for hunting large or small animals, as its accuracy cannot be guaranteed for long-distance shooting. Am I a deer hunter? No. There's only one thing this weapon is good for. The one reason is that it's bought, stolen or smuggled onto the Wizarding World in London. Let me be frank with you, Malfoy. The moment I caught you, I swiped this weapon from an unconscious guard lying near the rubble. You stunned that poor guard. He never got the chance to arm himself in order to fight you.

This gun kills people.

My temple feels cold when the barrel tip of the gun touches my forehead. I am a bit nervous. If I pull the trigger, will this bullet end my life right here in the hospital? Well, let's find out. My index finger trembles with the slight touch on the trigger. The safety pin has been released. I am pulling the trigger. Here goes nothing...

KLIK!

The hammer cocks back and forth into position. The gun chamber rotates counter-clockwise, one chamber at a time. But...nothing happens! Why? Simple, there's no bullet in the chamber. I am lucky. I survived my first turn. It's now your turn, Malfoy. Your first turn, that is.

You must be wondering why I came here, Malfoy. Why Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, idol of millions in the wizarding community wastes a lovely autumn evening in the company of his arch-rival since his time at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The answer is very simple: I'm playing a game with you. You hear me Malfoy? A game with you. It's called Russian roulette. But it's not the kind you play in the casino. In Muggle tradition, the game requires a gun with one bullet. One bullet and at least two idiots. The two idiots take turns pointing the gun at their own heads and pulling the trigger. Who's the winner? The winner's the one that survives three rounds of his own. The lucky idiot lives. The loser's the one that blows off his own head. The idiot's dead before he hits the floor.

Do you feel lucky, Malfoy?

Look at you. You could only move your eyes around. You couldn't move your body. Your head is bandaged from the wounds you received when you fought against me. The thin long tube that connects to your mouth feeds you with something necessary for your survival. It could be oxygen. It could be liquidated food. It could be a potion. Your eyes freeze in terror when I point that gun in your face.

I told you already, just now. It's your turn.

I hope you don't mind me doing the honors for you, Malfoy. It's just that I don't want you to miss out on all the fun, and you...well, why be polite? You're paralyzed. You can't move a muscle in your whole body. You can't talk and that's too bad. Too bad I did this to you. You're still looking at the gun and then at me. Yes, I can see the fear in you now. Of course in a way, you did worse to me. Yes, much worse.

You murdered Ginny. She's the woman that I loved. Back at home, the entire Weasley clan mourned over her death for a very long time. Since then, the Weasley family hasn't felt happy. Their faces are saddened each time I visit them. Do you see what you've done already?

Maybe that's why I want to play this game, but I don't think so. No, you killed Ginny months ago after the war ended. That made me do some crazy things. But that's not what brought me here.

It's Billy. You know, the kid I rescued when you tried to fight me in a cafe near downtown London. There's a security guard patrolling around the corner. He tried to get you but you stunned him. The rest is history. Does it ring any bells to you, Malfoy? No? Well, let me explain.

After my fight against you in downtown London, this kid cried. He was hysterical. He cried because a chunk of concrete barely missed his head. Young kids are like that you know. Have you forgotten your childhood, Malfoy? If you're hit, who's there to help you out of your troubles? Is it your father? No, I don't think so. It's your mother, damn it! Narcissa Black Malfoy! Your father never bothered to care for you. He just wanted you to follow his footsteps as a Death Eater. And you followed him. That's how the biscuit is shaped from the mould. How come you never became someone like Tonks, or her mother, your Auntie Annie Tonks? She can do things that aren't bad or crazy. Why can't you?

Have you forgotten that you're just like your crazed Auntie Bellatrix? Don't forget, she killed your Uncle Sirius, my godfather. He was one of the few who cared for me, besides my late parents. You Malfoys are definitely one crazy family!

Anyway, I don't have to use my magical abilities to pretend that I'm damn good. I can use other skills instead of relying on magic. After the incident with you, I went to Billy's house, escorting Billy and his father, Henry Jurgens. Soon, I found out that Billy was marked for murder by the remnants of Voldemort's followers over the fact that he had actually witnessed the murder of six Muggles by other Death Eaters in the London underground. As an Auror, Kingsley Shacklebolt, my superior, has assigned me to protect him until the Death Eaters responsible for hunting the Jurgens down are captured. I'd argued that it was a job for a first year defender. Hermione would have told me it would be good therapy.

I knocked the door and the opened, revealing middle-aged, bearded black man. He was dressed in long pants, maroon in color and a yellow shirt as well as a red bow.

"Ah, Mister Potter. Come in." Henry gestured to me and bade me enter his house. Henry's house was located just before the heart of London. It was a single-story house. A fence surrounded his house, protecting his garden from any trespassers. There were several large windows in the front of the house.

He escorted me around to the living room. Sitting in front of the television was Billy, the kid whom I rescued that afternoon. He was watching a recorded footage captured on video. I gasped in horror when the recorded footage turned out to be me fighting Draco Malfoy in the London underground. Apparently, one of the train users was carrying a video camera, and thus shot the footage on location. It was careless of me. I didn't't bother to Obliviate that user, as I was busy escorting Malfoy back to the Ministry.

It seemed that Billy was engrossed in the footage. He watched the footage over and over again.

"I'm so glad you could come by. I guess you couldn't't resist a home cooked meal. It's good for the soul," said Henry without looking at me.

Billy was watching the video when Henry yelled, "Billy! What the hell are you doing, boy?"

The kid turned around to face his father. Henry continued, "You're watching that videotape again. The underground tape, right?"

Billy gave a low voice reply, "Sorry dad."

"I swear...why couldn't't I have a son who watches football matches like Arsenal vs. Liverpool with me like a normal boy?" Henry questioned his son before continuing with "Anyway, it's dinnertime, kid. Get your hands washed!"

"Yes, dad."

As Billy walked to the kitchen to wash his hands, I was left alone to talk with Henry. He said, "The tape's from the afternoon news recorded at 3 p.m. just now, showing you clobbering a terrorist in the underground station. Charring Cross, right?"

I did not look at Henry and just replied, "I heard about it."

Henry faced me and smiled. "Yeah, that's right. I guess you couldn't't have seen it. Well, you didn't't miss anything, Mr. Potter. Those TV people look out for any chance to show something violent... or worse."

He switched off the lights in the living room.

We discussed something more casual and leisure oriented during the dinner. Billy could only sit, munch his food, and listen to what both his father and I had to say. By the time we were finishing our dinner, Henry said, "And so, that's why my wife and I would join the citizen's boycott for morality. I figure that somebody's got to help the TV people from turning our children into sex maniacs."

He looked to Billy, seated opposite him and pointed at him with his finger.

"Pass Mr. Potter the taters, boy," he ordered.

Without hesitation he took the taters and passed it to me. I thanked the kid.

"Thank you, Billy. And now, about the case, Mr. Jurgens..."

"Please call me Henry. It's a good name. Well, I'm innocent of course. It's all the fault of those terrorists there. Sometimes, they do spread lies around, making people believe it's true without a sweat." He lifted his fork in his left and called out to his son"Boy, please pass me the rolls."

"They are convincing lies, Henry. One of the Death Eaters by the name of Mr. Jugson says you had agreed to keep their cash and do what they said in exchange for their silence," I replied.

"Boy, what did I tell you to pass me?"

"The rolls," said the boy without looking at Henry. Henry moved a plate containing three meatballs and asked the boy, "What are these?"

"Beets," replied the boy with his head still facing down at the table.

"Do you have something to say, boy?" asked Henry with his gaze still affixed at Billy.

"I'm sorry, dad."

Mrs. Jurgens remained silent throughout the conversation. She just stood there, merely watching Billy finishing his food.

"I swear that the kids today are no darn good. Jugson is just one angry, serious looking guy. He and rest of the kind are weird. They don't behave like what we commoners do," commented Henry. He turned again to Billy and told him"I still don't have those meatballs, boy. Boy?"

Billy didn't't answer anything at all. Henry asked his young son"Kid, are you off playing hero again? Answer your father, boy!"

To our surprise, the boy turned to his father and just replied, "I'm not playing. I'm just like Harry Potter or Superman."

'Oh my God,' I thought. 'What has this kid become?'

Henry got up and faced his wife, Lisa. "Lisa, you said you would talk to the boy. You said he would be good!"

"I'm sorry, Henry," said Lisa.

Henry's eyes gazed at Lisa. Lisa's face exhibited a sense of fear.

"It's bad enough that the boy cries until he's purple whenever we take his video tape away. But how am I supposed to make a good impression on Mr. Potter when my son cannot so much as pass the meatballs without acting crazy?" he asked, in a very loud voice.

"I'm not crazy! I'm a wizard sometimes, or Superman!" Billy retorted.

"Don't talk back to your father, Billy!" Henry yelled.

"But my stomach hurts. Can I go to bed?" asked Billy.

Henry refused to let him back to bed. He ordered, "You will sit and eat your food and you won't talk crazy, boy!"

"But my stomach..."

Henry's eyes glared at Billy. His eyes were enough to scare him into punishments. Billy frowned and lowered his head in reluctance. "Sorry, dad. I'm sorry."

I couldn't't enjoy finishing the wine that Henry Jurgens served to me. After dinner, Henry invited me to the living room. He took out a black box from a drawer below his bookshelf. He opened it up and showed me the gun, a 38-caliber gun, unlike the one I'm using.

"I wish you could see this, Mr. Potter. This gun's a beauty and a regular peacemaker. Don't worry about this. I got myself a firearms license for this baby, yes sir. My family's protected," commented Henry.

Yeah, that Jurgens was a real treat. But it was his son who interested me. I had to understand the effect I had on him. A few days later, I paid a little visit at Billy's school. He's comic crazy!

"Don't you remember? Metalloid hit you on the head!" Billy pointed at the black haired girl.

"You're weird, Billy," giggled the girl.

"You're the reporter, Lois Lane and I'm your partner, Superman."

The blond kid next to the girl interrupted, "Come on, let's go and play!"

"Yeah, let Billy go fly somewhere," remarked the brunette girl.

Billy frowned and mumbled, "I am Superman. I can fly--"

"Billy?"

The kid looked around saw me on beyond the fence. The other kids had already left him alone. He seemed to be a sweet enough kid, more in need of some honest fun than anything else. And me, I could have used a round or two of applause. So I took him off for a ride of a lifetime.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" I lifted him up over the fence so that he could be next to me. Then I yelled "Accio Firebolt!" to summon my Firebolt, left in my office. I told him to sit in front of me and we went flying above the streets of London. As a precaution, I cast a Disillusion enchantment like Moody cast on me many years ago. The kid seemed to enjoy every moment of the ride. Finally, we stopped at a building overlooking the Thames River and Big Ben.

"Don't stop now!"Billy frowned.

"You're due back at school, Billy. It's 1.30 already."

"Yeah, but I never seen something like this before. It's just like Superman and now you're my hero. You're excellent!" exclaimed Billy.

"Kid, you're not supposed to know our existence, but I wouldn't want to have your memory modified. You're too young."

He didn't't bother to listen and instead got excited, "When someone gets in your way, you give it to them. POW! Nobody tells you what to do! You're free."

Now it's my turn. You're just looking at the gun.

Click!

There's no live round in it.

It's your turn.

KLIK!

No live round, again.

That's four out of six, Malfoy. We're both lucky so far. You know, what Billy said bothered me. But not as much as it should have. I should have gotten him help - professional help. I'll need Hermione to help me out through this. The fact is that I was charmed, not to mention thrilled to find myself admired by someone not from the magical community. I didn't't look too closely at what I was being admired for.

The last thing that I should have done was to encourage Billy's fantasy. That I found out when I went to question Percy on the case. Percy also handles Muggle relations; something Hermione should have been but eventually was not assigned to.

That night I heard someone calling out to me, "Psst! Potter! Things could get rough here. You better hang back!"

I turned around and found Billy crouching in the hedges around the house.

"Billy?"

"It's Daredevil and I'm on the prowl. You see, that Jugson has it in for a good guy. I'm going to clear him! Here's my wand and I'm going to cast a curse on him!"

He wanted to move but I held his hand back, restraining him. "Billy, you have to listen to me. You're not me. You're not Superman or Daredevil. You can't help your dad!"

"I'll clobber you if you get in my way. Huh?"

The engine sounds of a motorcar startled both of us. I ran on one path while Billy ran on the opposite.

"The car's starting. It's Jugson. He's skipping!" yelled Billy.

"Go home, Billy!" I screamed.

Then I do my second dumb deed for the day. I was so curious about where the car was going so late at night that I forgot about Billy. Unfortunately, he didn't't need to switch characters. He ran and held onto the back of the car and laid low so that the driver couldn't see him.

It's my last turn. I place the gun, with the edge of the barrel underneath my jaw. Here goes nothing.

Click!

No live round in the chamber. That's five already. My turn is over. I think I have won the game. I'm lucky.

This is it, Malfoy. You're going to lose. I can see in your eyes you know you're knocking at Death's door. I think I'd better finish up my story first.

There were two figures around the park, talking to each other. I couldn't't identify who they were. But fortunately I always carried a pair of Extendable Ears. I was quite fortunate to have them. I put them on.

"Well, my friend. Perhaps you've come to your senses?" asked the first man.

Eventually, the voice turns out to be Jugson, the Death Eater that Henry Jurgens had been meeting with.

"You're trying to squeeze me in, Jugson," said the second man. The voice, provided by the Extendable Ears, confirmed that the identity of the second rough figure was Jurgens.

The kid saw the whole scene and screamed, "Dad!"

Do you get it, Malfoy? Do you understand? Your fellow Death Eater Jugson met Jurgens. They talk and it doesn't't take a genius to figure it out. In this case, nobody's clean. Except Billy.

"Blackmail is what it's called and you're going pay it or else I'm following these accusations with these photostats," said Jugson with his hand holding a large envelope.

"You won't do that. You'll just hand them right over or I'll blow your brains out," said Jurgens while unzipping up his sweater. Suddenly, he whipped out his gun and pointed it at the Death Eater. Jugson didn't't have the chance to arm himself with his wand.

"Are you joking, Jurgens?"

Billy got out from the hedges surrounding the place where both men met, "Dad! What..."

Henry's gun was pointing at Jugson's chest but his faced glanced at Billy's. He was astounded, at first but he turned angry. His eyes glared at Billy. The expression affixed to his face was like a monster.

"You boy! Go home now! Do what your father says and go home!"

This was where I went behind him and approached Henry, wand pointed at him. "What are you going to do? Shoot your own child?"

"I'll shoot you, Potter!"

"Expelliarmus!"

The spell knocked Henry out, his gun clanked on the floor of the park. He crawled, trying to scoop the gun. I managed to kick the gun out of his reach and punched him squarely in his face. Henry was unconscious. As he laid out cold, Billy stood there, one moment looking at his father and then at me. He was horrified to see what I had done to his father.

That was the third dumb move. Billy was in his own way, a devoted son. His father may have been his only tether to reality. The episode in the park did things to Billy. Bad things. Jugson escaped during my confrontation with Henry. I went to check on him at home, a week later.

To my surprise, Henry was quite a forgiving man. I apologized for what I did to him in the park. My guess was that his son was shocked to see what his father had done in secret, without his knowledge. Billy was in the dimmed living room, still watching the recorded footage of the underground fight between Malfoy and me. He was watching it over and over again.

"I can't understand it myself, Mr. Potter. All he does was watching that damn video all the time!"

I entered the room. Billy never bothered to turn around to see Henry or me. He just muttered stupid things while watching the video.

"Daddy's bad, bad. Mr. Potter wouldn't't hit him. If daddy's bad, so am I...so am I..."

On the videotape where it was shot a month ago, I won our fight, Malfoy. But in Billy's mind, the battle raged on. The trial of Henry Jurgens involved both the Ministry of Magic and the Scotland Yard, the Muggle's police headquarters in London. The trial cost his family the entire fortune. So, I put up some money, and converted into British pounds for Billy's psychotherapy. I just hope that the trauma will go away as time passes.

However, on the day Henry was sentenced, some kid made a cruel remark. Something snapped inside Billy's mind. He took out something from his schoolbag. God knows where he found the gun. Even for children, they're all too easy to come by. It was a 45-caliber revolver, similar to his father's. That raises a question: When Billy pulled in the trigger, was he his father? Was he you, Malfoy? Or was he me?

The kid that Billy shot survived and so did Billy after a fashion. We won't really know how he is until he starts talking again.

So I keep asking myself again and again. What made Billy the way he is? What am I giving people by running around in either tights or wizard robes and beating bad guys? What am I showing them? Am I showing them that good wins out? That crime does not pay, that the cavalry is always on its way? Or am I showing them that any idiot with fists for brains can get his way if he's fast enough and strong enough and mean enough? Am I fighting violence or teaching it? Am I to blame, after all? Maybe all the blame rests with creatures like you and Jurgens. Perhaps if Billy had a father like Sirius....

There was a man that made his godson proud. If not for him, there would never have been Harry Potter, Auror Extraordinaire. The man himself had to be inspired first. Even if he is still a criminal after being proven innocent by some, he was a father figure to me. He was one of the best people I had. And when the time came to prove it, he was ready.

All the odds were against him. That night in the Department of Mysteries he got a chance and he knew it. The Death Eaters were fighting against my friends and me. Among the Death Eaters in company included your father and your crazed Auntie Bellatrix. That night, Sirius Black won his greatest and his last. He helped me beat Bellatrix for the first time. He died when he fell into the veil. I wished he could return, but I had to accept the fact that he would never come back. He showed me what a man is, Malfoy. That's when I defeated Voldemort and began my career as an Auror. I went on to catch dark wizards that could pose a threat to the wizarding world. In all the years passed I've held his image before me, including my parents; shining and untarnished.

But I'm a liar.

Sirius was far from the best. He tried very hard to replace James and Lily Potter's role as a parent and guardian. He was far from the best. That's another story buried deep in my heart. Kept away from those I've held close. I remembered one moment when he scolded me for wandering in the Dark Forest with Viktor Krum during the Triwizard Tournament. He made me promise to him in letter that I would never do something stupid like that. At one time, I was afraid that I would end up like him. It was tough keeping that promise. And just once, I failed. Ever since what I went through during fifth year, my professional course was set. Should I live after Voldemort's defeat, I would become an Auror.

I guess that's what it all comes down to, Malfoy. I am helping you now. I am pointing the gun at your temple. You're still fearful of me now as you have been from the hour I set foot into this ward. When I fight you, beat you, I know deep in my heart that I am right in what I do. When I hate you and your kind, it's so fierce I could cry. When I can see that you are black and evil and have no right to live, when at last, I've got you set squarely in my sights, I smell your fear and it's sweet to smell. Everything that I've gone through, it's your entire fault, especially when you murdered Ginny. When it comes to one final fatal act of ending you....

CLICK!

The hammer cocks again. The gun chamber rotates counter-clockwise again. But there's no bullet coming out from my gun's barrel.

My gun has no bullets.

[Sigh] I guess we're still stuck with each other, Malfoy.

THE END