The Invisible

Chapter 4: The Ghost

-----IIIII-----

He hated this job. He had retired, and he enjoyed his retirement pretty much. But Voldemort had to go and try to fight a war that he would never win. Many of the young ones died. It almost made him feel guilty for living so long, and so, when the request came, he couldn't help but agree to step back into the organization that he thought he had left behind. Auror Headquarters was almost empty then, but now it bustled with work. Those damned Dark Wizards didn't know when to quit, and now, it seemed that they were beginning to poke their heads out of whatever hole they had dug for themselves.

He gave the situational report another look. It was dire. Someone had presumably sighted the Dark Mark plastered in a tavern in the middle of a Welsh town. He had lost one of his better men in an attempt to investigate the sighting. The Auror who was sent to retrieve the lost man had also gone missing, and so had the third. He grimaced. It didn't look good. He couldn't send a whole squad of his best men to see if there were any Dark Wizards to slug it out with. He couldn't spare the people. They were already overworked as it was.

"Another?" The barkeep eyed his empty glass.

"No."

He hated this bar. The witches here dressed like whores and the wizards were either drunk or stoned. The stink of insanity permeated the establishment.

"Mad-Eye," a man grunted as he sat on the empty seat on the right. The Chief Auror looked at the hooded newcomer. This man was supposedly his best Auror. He was an agent that possessed a power so strong, with an origin so secret, that he only went by the codename The Ghost. The hood obscured his features, and the large grey cloak concealed his body. Outside of Moody himself, no one knew who The Ghost was. He was quite literally someone outside the realm of the living.

"Ghost. You're late."

"My apologies."

"Have you heard?"

"Of course. Three vanished in a week. They were pretty good too. I'm surprised that the news didn't spread."

"It will if you don't clean up the mess."

"I've been downgraded to local missions now?"

"Nonsense," Moody muttered under his breath. "Dark Wizards on the continent are keeping a low profile. We aren't getting as many reports as before. Your skills are not needed there."

"I could have handled the Shanghai mission."

"No. We can't be involved there. The Chinese warlocks do not take kindly to our intruding, and asking them for access would have taken far too much time."

"What makes you so sure that they could have pulled it off?"

"They sent The Orphan."

A cold silence descended upon the two. The Orphan was someone who was supposedly as good as or even better than The Ghost. But no one knew anything about the wizard for hire, and The Ghost did not enjoy the comparisons. It was probably professional jealousy, but Moody never bothered asking. It was not his job to coddle his Aurors. "Get yourself to Scotland."

"I need the recon."

"It will be sent to you through the Network."

"Search and rescue?"

"If you can."

"Do I need to take those damn Dark Wizards alive?" The hooded man's voice pulsed with anger.

"Try to," the Chief Auror replied with a stony glare. "Do not repeat what happened the last time."

"They deserved it."

"Justice is not yours to serve."

"It isn't theirs to serve either." With that, the Ghost stood and left the smoke filled bar.

Alastor Moody shook his head morosely. Rage would be the undoing of that man, but that man had more right than anyone else in the world to feel such anger.

-----IIIII-----

The Ghost drifted into the small town after dark. He had apparated into the farmlands that surrounded the small area but had decided against appearing within the town itself. He feared that Muggles were still about, but the greater reason was that he had no wish to charge into the midst of a cabal of Dark Wizards. There was little doubt that he could overcome a dozen or so of the beasts, but he did not want to risk it. A frontal assault was less satisfying than killing them one by one.

The moon hung in the midnight sky, casting its pale glow over the simple village. He needn't have worried about the Muggles. If there were any here, they had long retired to their beds, or perhaps the followers of Voldemort had done away with them all. Darkness reigned. Every single building was drenched in blackness. Not a single light could be seen anywhere. He pursed his lips and continued his silent glide through the lonely alleys.

He paused before one of the larger buildings and looked closer. A large sign hung above the door, 'The Drunken Ghost'. "Apt," he smirked and pushed against the door of the tavern.

The door did not budge. He rapped his knuckles against the door and peered through the windows. Even after a few minutes, there was no movement inside the inn. No light flared to life within the building. He frowned. No self-respecting tavern owner would allow a potential guest to wait outside for such a long time.

A grim thought crossed his mind. He stood in a ghost town. A slight chill descended upon him, but he ignored it and carried onwards, his robe billowing in the cold breeze.

What seemed like the village center was as deserted as the village itself. Now, it was just a piece of barren land where all the streets seemed to end. The eerie light of the moon made the shadows dance. The marketplace had been here. There were wooden stalls around the edges of the clearing, but they were as empty as the center itself. They still stood, but that was all they did. There were no banners proclaiming the name of the stall, no signs announcing what was being sold, and no goods on display. They were just wooden skeletons, serving ethereal masters that never bothered to turn up.

It was a trap. He was certain the evil that stained the town was aware of his arrival, and he was also certain he stood on their killing ground. So much the better, they would come to him. He reached into his robe and placed his hand on his wand, readying himself for the battle that was sure to come.

He didn't have to wait long. He smiled to himself. This would be very satisfying.

"Who goes there?" A figure stepped out of the shadows of one of the many alleys. "A guest, I see. What brings you to our lovely abode?"

"I have no name."

"Come now," the Dark Wizard laughed. The darkness made it hard to make his features out. His pasty white skin, jet black hair, and twisted sneer gave him the exact same look as the other hundreds of Death Eaters. "Don't we all have something others refer to us by? What do they call you?"

The Ghost decided that this poor excuse for a living soul did not deserve an answer.

"Very well. You lack manners, but that is quite understandable. You are not responsible for your deficient upbringing. So now, tell me this, why are you here? Few people just pass by this lovely village."

"Where are they?" he demanded coldly. It was painfully obvious that he would not be getting much of an answer, but the Chief appreciated it when diplomatic negotiations were attempted before wands were drawn.

"They? Come now, you don't even want to give your name. How would I know who you refer to?"

"What did you do with them?"

"Them?"

"Them." He was quickly losing his patience with the arrogant Death Eater. "Two male, one female. Came here last week or so. Ring a bell?"

"Hrm ..." The Dark Wizard placed his hand on his chin in mock contemplation. "Now that you mention it, I do recall more than the usual amount of visitors last week. Friends of yours?"

"Where are they?"

"Ah yes. They were as rude as you, and I was so pleasant with them. The manners of some people nowadays."

"Look, you tell me what you did with them, and I will leave you an inch from death. Continue being an arrogant ass, and I swear that I will make you squeal like a little girl as I tear you limb from limb."

"Such crassness. But since you did ask, and since I am feeling rather generous today, I won't tell you what became of your friends. I will show you." The sneer on his face dripped venom. "Do remember to thank me later."

Suddenly, a freezing cold descended upon the square. The Ghost allowed himself a long breath, and he noticed mist escaping from his mouth. It was a magical cold, and he knew what was creeping around the corner. A rolling fog engulfed the ground he stood on, and a gasping shriek filled the night sky.

He turned around and as he expected, three figures were drifting towards him, figures clothed in ethereal rags, figures that exuded a foul, decaying stench, Dementors. A normal wizard would have been terrified, but he was not normal by any standard. The Dark Wizards did not know who they were dealing with.

The intense cold pricked his skin as the demons drew closer, their skeletal hands reaching out towards him. He let out a short laugh and stepped forwards, almost throwing himself into the embrace of the Dementors.

"Such a child. Have you ever fought Dementors before?"

He ignored the taunts and watched passively as the Dementors leapt forward. Their decaying hands clawed at him, and he felt stabs of cold as they touched his body. But that was all, and that was as it should be. In one swift motion, his wand was in his hand. "Incendio."

The three Dementors immediately burst into flames. The fiery heat banished the deathly cold that had engulfed the clearing mere moments ago. They flailed blindly as their bodies combusted. Bony fingers clawed at skeletal visages as the figures slumped to the floor, succumbing to the flames. The Ghost kicked at one of the burning piles and smiled with morbid satisfaction.

"It can't be! What are you? The Dementors ..."

He pointed his wand towards the cowering wizard. "Those monsters feed on the happiness and joy of others. I lost both a long time ago. They can do nothing against me."

"Damned Auror."

"What did you do with the others? Did you set the Dementors upon them as well? Where are they now, Death Eater? Or do I have to curse you to get you to talk?"

"Your pathetic Auror friends? I admit, you did much better than them," the Dark Wizard sneered. "Cowards almost ran when our pet Dementors appeared."

"Watch it." The familiar rage began building. "Where are they? My patience wears thin."

"You will never be able to find them again."

"Why?" His wand waved warningly. "Tell me why!"

"Foolish Auror --"

"That's it. Stup --"

"Expelliarmus!" Another voice rang into the night.

The Ghost watched his wand tumble through the air and land impotently several yards away. He slowly turned his head and witnessed yet another sneering Death Eater stepping into the large clearing. "Careless are we, little Auror? Care to show your face before we send you to join your friends? I'm sure you're dying to see them."

"Accursed Death Eaters!" he spat as he thrust his hand into his robes and brought out his spare wand.

"Expelliarmus!"

"You're a tricky one." Yet another Death Eater appeared from the shadows. "Two wands. Much better than the other Aurors. I hope you don't have much more. Don't let this take any longer than it should."

He didn't have any more. He didn't need any more, but he had hoped that it wouldn't have come to this.

"I will enjoy this. You'll fetch a pretty price."

"You're selling Aurors?" His voice trembled with anger. He had met, fought, and defeated hundreds of people before, but none had a heart so black with evil.

"We're only selling because someone is buying. Simple business. Probably something you simpletons won't understand."

"Human trafficking." He bit the words out. "Even Voldemort wouldn't stoop so low."

"You know nothing about Lord Voldemort!" one of the Death Eaters hollered in response. "His dreams were grand! He would have brought paradise to us all! And all of you who were terrified of letting go of your petty power declared him evil. What do you know of Lord Voldemort? And now, after your pathetic Halfblood Potter slew him, you hound us like dogs! You are evil! And yet you have the gall --"

"Hush." The Dark Wizard was calmed by another. "You waste your words on the Muggle-lover. We will rise again. And soon, all our foes will question those ideals that they hold so dear."

"I've heard enough," His blood was boiling. He could hear the quickening beat of his heart. "You asked for my name."

The man that greeted him laughed venomously. "I'm sorry, Auror, but that won't be able to save you now. Actually, I don't even think that it would have saved you then. Stupefy!"

The crimson bolt lanced towards The Ghost with frightening speed, but before it got anywhere close to him, it fizzled out. The other Death Eaters laughed, "Growing old? This is how it's supposed to be done! Crucio!"

As before, the curse rushed towards him, but winked out some distance from its target.

"Avada Ke --" The third and final Dark Wizard began, before he was hurled off his feet and through the window of a house behind him.

"What are you? Who are you?"

"Which scum did you sell the Aurors to? Tell me!" His vision was beginning to take on a red tint as he strode towards one of the Death Eaters. "Tell me, damn you!"

"Never! Stupefy!"

"I warned you." Once again, the red light dissolved halfway to its target, and the Death Eater was suddenly launched into the sky, arm flailing. The Ghost watched as the man smashed into the ground several seconds later, rolled slightly, and then, ceased to move.

"Who are you? This can't be happening."

He turned to the last Dark Wizard and laughed at the babbling fool. "Don't bother trying to apparate. The wards that I just put up are pretty strong. You aren't leaving until you tell me what I want to know."

"Who ... Who ..." His prey's eyes widened. "These wards ... they aren't normal ... . Who are you?"

"Did you kill them?"

"No ... we bound them ... and ..."

"Why?"

"Live fetches more ..."

"Who?" he asked softly, but the fury within him was building.

"I can't ..."

"Who?" he boomed, his shout echoed into the night.

"I'll be killed ..."

"Who?" He took a step forward, and the Death Eater took a step back.

"I ... I ... Lumos!"

The bright light blinded him for several crucial seconds, and when his vision returned, he managed to catch the wizard scurrying into one of the houses and slamming the door shut. He spat a curse. There could be a portkey inside. His rage began to take over. Such a cowardly beast did not deserve to live. He stomped forward in a red haze. The door of the house was torn off its hinges and flung onto the roof of the neighboring building.

"You will not escape!" he yelled as he entered. The sound of retreating footsteps drew him upstairs. He stormed up the stairs. A small corridor lined with three locked rooms greeted him. The doors of each one flew outward in turn. Beds were flung into the walls, cabinets came crashing down on the floor, and tables were flung out of shattering windows. At long last, he came upon the quivering mass in the last corner of the last room he had searched.

"Who ... Who ... the hell are you? What are you made of? Monster --"

"Monster?" he screamed in response. "You are the Death Eater! You are the scum who slaughtered an entire generation of wizards because you wanted to continue killing people who couldn't even cast magic! You and your damn pureblood ways killed too many people before their time, and now, even after your damn Voldemort died, you Death Eaters still want everyone else to suffer! Three Aurors, who were just doing their job, and you sold them like cattle! Who is the monster? Who?"

The Dark Wizard was now hovering in mid-air. His arms were flailing around, and his mouth was moving. But within the darkness of his hood, alone with the burning anger that now consumed him, The Ghost could not hear anything except himself.

"You have already taken so much from us, from me! How much more do you want?"

"Contact ... I ... give ... map ... robe ..." He caught bits and pieces of the Death Eaters frantic jabbering, but it was already too late.

"Damn you, Death Eater! Everything, you took away from me, everything!" He let out an anguished scream, and with that, the Dark Wizard hurtled through the window.

The Ghost did not hear the sickening thump that followed. He sank to his knees, muttering meaningless phrases to himself. Memories flooded in, memories that were too painful to remember, and too painful to forget.

The rush of blood stilled.

The blazing inferno of fury calmed.

The tide of hatred ebbed.

The cold hands of unconsciousness gripped him.

But, the memories never faded.

-----IIIII-----