The Other One

THE OTHER ONE

[ Chapter 2 ]

Emil Ragnar shuddered involuntarily as he arrived via portkey to the grounds of the dreaded prison fortress. It was against the International Confederation of Wizards rules to Apparate or Disapparate here. It was a high security facility and ICW would have the wizard who did the offense on their list of suspected accomplices to the Dark Lord. The wizard would also be fined half a million Galleons.

He hated the depressing and cold atmosphere of this place. He left the hood of his cape on. His whole garment was enchanted with Anti-Dementor Repellent Charm. He chastised himself for not bringing enough Chocolate Frogs, what if he had to perform the Patronus on them. One must always be on guard when one was in the presence of dark creatures. He tightened the file on his chest as he approached the counter who was manned by a goblin.

A goblin! He would've thought they were most suited to work at banks. Finding one here was not so strange come to think of it. Goblins were in fact serious, effective, efficient, boring and grotesque machines...err, beings. They don't have time to feel anything. They only think of work and that's what they're good for. So yes, he thought, Azkaban would be another good career choice for them.

The goblin peered at him with his small black beady eyes. "State your business?"

Emil forwent the idea of smiling at the goblin. "I'm Emil Ragnar, a private eye from..." He extended a card at the goblin. "I was hired by a high security prisoner by the name of Mr. Lucius Malfoy to search a missing link to his family branch." He handed the goblin the file. "Here you go."

The goblin scrutinized it, nodding his head as he glimpsed through the file. He passed it back to him. "The prisoner will meet you at Observatory 1. The Observatory is secured with moderate Anti-Dementor Reflector so you and the prisoner will have a fruitful conversation. However," He stared hard at Emil. "Your conversations will be heard and recorded by our prison moderator, Mr. Glum." He made a gesture at his fellow goblin co-worker. "Follow, Mr. Glum." He quickly made contact with a nearby Dementor of the prisoner visitation arrangement.

Emil was amazed to see that this small, clumsy yet severe looking creature could move faster than him. "Wait!" He yelled at him. The goblin ignored him and continued doing his sonic run. Emil muttered something inaudible under his breath. They zigzagged through many pathways, archways and corridors.

Then, the goblin stopped in front of a door, "Enter." He showed Emil the door in which he should enter. He moved to the next door and turned the knob, entered the room and closed the door behind him with a curt click.

Emil stood there with a dazed look of a little lost boy. Then, it hit him why they were doing a Runespor run to avoid the depressive soul suckers. He shook his head, "Nice trick. Like hide and seek." He hardly noticed the looming dark creatures spawned by Salazar Slytherin.

He turned the knob and entered into Observatory 1. He was again awed by the entire room décor. It was transparent. He could see Mr. Glum looking glumly at him as he entered. Beside him was two Magical Law Enforcers from Ministry of Magic. One was sipping tea, the other looking on at him with mild interest.

Damn! He swore silently. Whatever that was going to transpire between the both of them, they would listen. They would need to speak in riddles. He sucked at it. He noticed Lucius was already seated, looking pale and thin but he still held an air of imperial authority. He was looking at him with mild disdain.

Emil looked at his friend and smiled frostily. Under normal circumstances, he would've very much liked to give an old good friend a hearty smile. But, this wasn't normal at all. It would increae suspicions and then there would be inquisition. It wouldn't do. There were many things he wanted to tell him. Seeing how tight security was, and with good reason, since Lucius was a Death Eater. Still, it was a private matter of the critical kind. It involves life and death.

He opted for the cold approach. "Drained, Malfoy?" Emil glanced at the half-giant who remained at a corner of the room looking at Lucius like a sentinel.

He leered, "Hardly." He caught on to Emil's intentions. Looking intently at him.

Emil knew he wasn't looking at him but at the file he held. He sat opposite Lucius. Their eyes met for the briefest moment. There was a flash of manly acknowledgement.

"Fascinating, vast property in the south of France with a well managed chateau and kept grounds, a few servants, a few pets. The owner is a Mr. Keir Emrys Auberon. A brilliant self made millionaire both in the Muggle world and Wizarding world. His businesses are in both worlds dealing with communication networking."

He gestured Lucius to open the file. Lucius flipped the file cover and stared at the picture of Mr. Auberon and an elderly but beautiful lady with captivating sapphire eyes by his side both were smiling warmly at each other the mother-son affection apparent.

"You can see that he's featured in two muggle magazines. One's Fortune and the other's Times. He's also featured in the Daily Prophet. It's all there in the file."

Still looking at the moving picture. "What's he like?"

"Never met him. Currently, he's in ICW Headquarters in Geneva doing some consultancy job for three months. But, I heard he's tall, dark, handsome, somewhat intriguing, mysterious and dangerous."

"Colorful."

"Indeed."

"Does he know?"

"No. But, I've informed his mother of your interest and request."

"She's willing?"

"She was flabbergasted at first. So, I've explained to her the importance of the property to you.

"And?"

"She'll convince him."

"He seems inflexible."

"Colorful, as you put it. There're many more features of the property that you'll find interesting.

"Would he agree?"

"Of course, the stake's high. I'm sure he'll do it for her."

Lucius closed the file and slide it across the table to Emil. "I've seen enough."

Emil gathered the file in his hand and stood up. "I'll send word in two days time."

"Tomorrow, Ragnar." Lucius's firm tone held a subtle desperateness that Emil nodded readily.

Emil walked toward the door. He halted and he glanced off his shoulder, "By the by, his mother's name's Aurora." Then, he exited from the room.

Lucius sat in the chair, unmoving. His features were closed off. His eyes stared on the table. They had a faraway look in them.

=====

In the next room, the Magical Law Enforcers stared at each other. Neither knew what the deep meaning conversations between the visitor and prisoner were about. Mr. Glum, the goblin switched off the recording device and the other was a lie detector. They were both muggle technology products, and were gifts from the muggle Commissioner of Police of muggle Law Enforcement headquarters in London, called Scotland Yard.

"What was that all about?" The one who wasn't sipping tea now asked the one who was looking at Lucius being ushered out of the room by the half giant.

"It seems clear that Malfoy's buying a property in south of France." The man was still looking at the empty next room out from the see-through window.

"He's dying and he's buying property?!" The one not sipping tea looked shocked. "And Auberon's selling it...blimey!"

"Not yet, anyway," The man who was looking at Lucius earlier was now looking at his friend. "You know rich people. They don't know what to do with their riches. Besides, he isn't buying for himself. He's buying it for his son, Draco."

The man who wasn't sipping tea made a face. "The gay bastard isn't going to get married and produce little blond Malfoys. I hope the line dies with Draco."

His friend just shrugged. "Maybe he wants to do something good for his family before he goes."

"You're talking about Malfoy...the only thing he's good at is being evil." The man who wasn't sipping tea looked appalled hearing his friend's opinion.

The other man smiled cynically. "You know, come to think of it. Malfoy might not buy the property but the owner himself for Draco. You heard them. "

"I believe you're right. But, damn! Malfoy Sr. has gone barmy." The man who wasn't sipping tea shook his head apparently horror-struck at the conversation they just heard.

His friend who now was looking at him sat on the table. He held a look of disgust. "I can't believe a fine male specimen like Auberon's gay."

"I can't believe Malfoy's matchmaking Draco to him and asking his mother's permission." The man who wasn't sipping tea, spreading his hands up in the air, he too felt the incredulity of the conversation.

The other man who was seated on the table said, "Whatever it is, it's none of our business..."

Mr. Glum, the goblin went out of the room after giving the tapes to the two MLEs. He was shaking his head in aversion, thinking, how they ever became MLEs was beyond his comprehension or the MoM was losing its standards in producing quality officers. There were more to the conversion that the visitor and prisoner led on. He knew it wasn't property or gay marriage that was for sure. Silly, MoM MLEs.

=====

Keir apparated in the Auberon hall and sprinted all the way up the stairs. In any other given choice, he would've liked to travel via long haul on muggle transportation such as the airplane He abhorred traveling by apparating or disapparating, even by portkeys or floo network. Wizards, he thought wryly, are stiff neck bigots.

He only used magical means of transportation when there were emergencies. He was worried about his mother. He was in the middle of constructing a blueprint for a series of mobile portkeys for wizards who weren't licensed to Apparate or Disapparate. She sounded restless when she spoke to him with her mind urging him to come home because she needed to tell him something important as it involves him.

"Mother, I'm home." He called out walking in long strides toward his mother's bedchamber.

One of the house elf, was carrying the cleaned folded dining linen gave a small shriek of surprise and scuttled away.

He didn't need to knock on the door. It opened up for him to enter, which he did. He saw his mother in her luminous aqua robes standing and looking out to the pretty flower garden from the balcony. She turned to meet him, her startling blue eyes softened as she met his puzzled grey ones.

Her black hair now streaked with a few silver strands at the temples was done up in an elegant coiffure. She looked stunning, as always. "Emrys..." She spread her arms and he went straight into her embrace as she kissed him lightly on his cheek.

"Dearest...you're alright?" He looked at her with concern in his eyes. Intense grey eyes, the patrician straight nose and the tough square jaw that reminded her of the man she had once known and loved only for a brief moment in time. A love lost.

She smiled graciously at his concern. "I'm fine." She stared at him for a while then gestured him to sit on the plush sofa. "There's something I must tell you. It's about...your father, he's dying."

He was silent. His expression held a mixture of shock and bafflement then it slowly changed to indifference. He wasn't looking at her. He was staring at the wall behind her.

She knew he was thinking because she could sense him closing his thoughts and she couldn't 'see' or 'hear' what he was thinking. He blinked, and that meant he'd digested the first information. He was still silent, waiting for her to continue.

One thing about her son she appreciates most was his patience and his ability to listen with a rational mind without jumping the gun. Then, he would ponder again the pros and cons before informing her of his decision. It was his decisions that frightened her because most of them were unorthodox, though highly effective.

"His name's Lucius Malfoy." She saw a flicker of recognition in the grey depths, and a flash of fuming contempt. "He was a Death Eater, now serving sentence in Azkaban. His execution..." She broke off suddenly, averting her eyes that were moistened concentrating on the garden.

He looked up at her, his eyes registering what he had 'glimpsed' in her mind at her moment of weakness. "What's the urgency that he requires my help, dearest?"

She shifted back to meet her son's face. She was touched that his voice was soft with tenderness and understanding for her. Only his eyes glittered with unforgiving anger for the man who biologically made him to exist.

"He's not so bad, you know. He gave me, you."

He was silent. His eyes betrayed his bland expression. Yes, a love child and a bastard, no less. He waited patiently for her to continue.

She flinched at his bitter thoughts and knew it was time to tell him the whole truth about Lucius's requested for his help. She took a deep breath and told him the whole story of what Emil Ragnar, had told her and that he needed the answer by noon tomorrow and her story about what she had 'seen' in his father and of his father's future.

He listened.

He closed his mind after she'd finished her story.

She looked at him and felt sad for her son. She didn't know how to explain it in plain terms. Even at a young age, he'd attained a wisdom that even the wisest of men could only dream about. How he attained it, God only knew. But, she had a feeling it'd accosted him the ability to trust and open up, making him as complex an individual as that impenetrable mind of his.

=====

It was a risky task. He concluded that he would do what was required because of his mother. If it weren't for her he would've let the old bastard die without a soul. Then again, the Dementor's Kiss wouldn't be of much effect, the fucker didn't have a soul, so to speak. He closed his mind when he thought of the man who was responsible for his existence and the cause of him being mentally tortured by his domineering late grandfather as a child sowed by ill faith, mal foi.

When he was little until the age of ten, the elder Auberon would torment his lack of breeding, as he sarcastically put it when his daughter wasn't around. He shielded his thoughts about his grandson whenever she was near. But when she was away to teach at Beauxbaton Academy, the tortures would began.

The mental beatings, when he was smaller...they weren't words or physical abuse where the body would suffer with angry red whelps, soreness and bruised coloration. Mental beatings were flashes of mind-stretching torture. It often left him lightheaded and he would rush to the toilet to vomit. Normally, his grandfather would torture him at nights. The mental pain made him unable to sleep more than two hours a day. Four, if he was really mentally drained.

Sometimes, the old bastard would torture him during the day when he felt the need to be 'generous'. The mind-stretching torture sometimes became mind-bending. At other times it was mind-blowing. When it was mind-bending, he'd piss in his pants and would roll in his own piss writhing in pain on the floor. Then, if it were the mind-blowing sequence, he thought his brain would explode or melt and ooze out from his eyes, nose and ears.

It was this sequence that he would pound his head with his fists or sometimes banged his head on the wall because it was too painful. The bruise and bump on his forehead was visible in the morning. His grandfather, the old psycho bastard that he was would smile and say, "Things that go bump in the night. You ought to be careful, mal foi."

His mother didn't know of this. She needn't need to know what would hurt her deeper. So, he kept silent.

Then, when he reached age ten. He'd just been tortured by his grandfather and was writhing in his own piss and vomit and hearing his grandfather's satisfied sadistic laughter echoing in his mind. He was extremely angry beyond words and wished with all his might that his grandfather would loose his mind, not mad, just...

There was a loud crash from his grandfather's chamber. There were sputtered pants and grunts of a man resisting to do something but was failing in the attempt. He got up to his feet, his clothes were soiled, he smelt of retching bile and indigested food gone to waste. He didn't care of how bad he looked or smelt. All he thought of was, there was something wrong with his grandfather.

He ran out of the bathroom and halted at the sight of his grandfather wrestling some unknown invisible monster. He gasped, gaped and was looking for something to help the old sadistic bastard...He was angry but he wasn't cold!

His grandfather was screaming at his invisible adversary, his grandfather looked his way. The old man's eyes widened in shock, befuddled, then as realization hit the old man's brain, he saw...fear. "Get off of me!" He yelled at him.

"W-What is it?!" He shouted back, he didn't know what to do, as he looked helplessly at his grandfather being mauled by something he couldn't see except his grandfather.

His was choking for breath. In between gasps he pled to him hoarsely, "G-Get your s- self manifestation of meeee..."

"What?" He queried in uncertainty, not understanding a word the old geezer was saying. "I don't see anything."

"Focus." While fending his face from a blow, "Con-Concentrate, on me." His grandfather fell on the floor, "Keir..."

He looked, at the old man who had a shiner, a broken and bleeding nose. He never once called his name except calling him mal foi. It was because he needed his help. In his desperation...he called him by his given name.

He relented and took several deep breaths to calm himself down. He was still angry and closed his eyes and concentrated. When he opened his eyes, he gaped at the materialized adversary. It was him...! Except it was...fair skinned when in fact he'd dark complexion.

It...he, was beating the crap out of his grandfather. It...he's face all mottled in pure undiluted rage.

He closed back his eyes. Confused at the image. Did he really conjure it up? Talking to his mind. Think of dearest. Think of how much I love her. Would she approve? I think not. He opened his eyes, looking at it...or rather him-it.

It turned its head at him. It stopped its aggressive attacks but not before it banged the old codger's head on the floor. It looked at him...blinked, and disappeared.

He was nine years old but that day he felt as old as his grandfather. He cautiously approached the old man, just enough to see the old man flinch away. Not because he was smelly or looking soiled but the old man still hated him and now he feared him as well.

He backed away, turning his back on the old man and went back into his room.

Blinking back into reality, he took a deep breath, thinking cynically. A bastard saving another bastard...How ironic, that Lucius's last name's Malfoy...mal foi - bad faith...

He smiled slightly, looking at his startled mother. "Dearest, please owl Ragnar, that my answer is yes."

[ to be continued ]