The Wizard Hunt

"Bloody, bleeding Bulgaria!" thought Ron as he waved his wand a little more forcefully than necessary. As a result of his forceful wave, the ward he was placing on the window would be quite effective, but it would look like there was a spotlight shining on the walls of the little nondescript house.

Cursing under his breath, Ron undid the charm and left off his cursing about the Trio's interim destination in the land of Krum. His knuckles turned white on the grip of his wand as he delicately finished the ward. He grunted with satisfaction at the charm. It wouldn't be very powerful, and it wouldn't cause any permanent damage, but whoever was within ten feet of the exterior of the house when they tripped that charm would think they were looking at the center of the sun for a couple of hours.

"Bloody Bulgaria!" he mumbled as he tucked his wand back in his belt.

"Ron?" asked Harry weakly.

Ron was standing in one of two small bedrooms in the Mitreni safe house of the Order of the Phoenix. Well, in truth, it was a Gringott's safe house, but they hadn't needed to use it for regular banking business in decades. Through Bill's affiliation with the bank, it had become a hideout for the Order.

Harry had been feverish since their arrival from Bucharest, and had floated in and out of consciousness. His breath came in short gasps because of his cracked ribs. Hermione seemed to think he would be fine for the time being as long as they could get to an accredited healer in the next few days.

Ginny had been a statue by Harry's side for the past two hours as Harry slept, but Hermione had just dragged her out of the bedroom a half-hour before to help interrogate the insane Muggle.

That bastard had tried to cause a problem when they first arrived, but Hermione had quickly taken care of that.

"Hey, Mate," said Ron soothingly, walking over and patting his friend's arm. "Rest easy now."

"Ron...bad dream...Ginny," mumbled Harry as he immediately began drifting off again. His hand fluttered up near the scar on his forehead.

"Rest easy," Ron repeated lamely. "Ginny's here. It'll be right as rain in the morning."

Harry made another incoherent noise as he fell back into unconsciousness.

Cursing again under his breath, Ron was unnerved by his best mate's condition.

Ron quickly checked under the bed for the bundle containing the Horcrux. He picked the bundle up and moved it to the far side of the room. Harry's breathing seemed to ease immediately.

Ron set it down on a chair and quietly exited the room.

********************************

The large red-haired youth, Ron, comes through the doorway. His eyes are worried as he lifts his head to say something. He sees me, and a scowl falls over his face and his mouth snaps shut. The bushy-haired witch must have magically healed the kid, because his bruises are very faint and the ruin that had been his face had been replaced with healthy pink flesh.

I realize with surprise that she must have healed me as well. I am almost certain that my nose was broken in my fight with Ron, but there is now no pain in that area, despite the goose egg on the back of my head from my more recent injuries. Peculiar and unnerving.

Ron thumbs his wand at his belt. It is just for show, though. He is not using magic. The Relic does not even tingle.

In fact, the Relic has been unnervingly still except for the brief flash of warning it gave me a few minutes ago. Apparently Ron had been working on something in the bedroom where the injured boy lay.

I stare back at Ron, regardless. I am more comfortable with his furious scowl than I am with the piercing watchfulness of the bushy-haired witch. She has sat staring at me for an entire half-hour, barely blinking. I have stared back as calmly as I can, but she has unnerved me. She appears to be waiting for something. She has looked at me thus since I regained my senses.

Sally...I mean, Ginny...has stared at me as well during that time. But she has been fidgety and keeps casting glances back towards the bedroom. The look of worry on her face almost makes me regret what I did to the young Warlock, Harry, who lies behind that door.

My head swims.

Unnerved. I feel that the word appropriately reflects my state of mind. Completely unnerved and in an entirely new situation for me.

The rough treatment that I have suffered at the hands of these near-children has unnerved me. The mere fact that they are still alive after confronting me is something that they should be proud of, though they might not know it. I have killed every wizard that I have confronted in combat, except these three.

I am unnerved that my battle lust has left me. Normally, my motivation can last for days when I am confronted with the practitioners of the devil's arts, yet I feel drained and weak. In truth, I am even starting to feel a bit...relaxed.

I am unnerved by the pain in the crook of my elbow.

Unnerved I am by the squeezing sensation and instantaneous teleportation I have endured just a few hours hence; by the idea of being encased in magic in such a way.

God save me and protect me.

Unnerved I am by the magical ropes that hold me, and which resist my attempts to slip free. I have been held thus before, but I have never had trouble slipping through such bonds. But my hands will not respond properly, and I cannot move correctly.

Unnerved I am by the fact that this young witch managed to detect the fact that I was conscious upon our arrival. I am unnerved that once she realized it, she managed to render me unconscious again before I could regain full movement and throttle her. The throbbing in my head, and the shards of a crystalline vase on the floor, remind me that she used a decidedly non-magical way to achieve that end.

Unnerved I am by the putrid taste in my mouth. At first I thought that the witch had fed me some devil's brew of a potion. I felt confident that she would get little satisfaction from it since the Relic makes me impervious to those concoctions.

But now I am unnerved because I recognize the side effects of a narcotic. The Relic gives me no protection against such non-magical chemicals.

And finally, I am unnerved that the power of the Relic seems so distant and that my head still swims and feels cloudy. The mark would stop such magical effects, so this must not be magical. It is drugs or an injury. I would shake my head to clear it, except I will not give the witch the satisfaction.

Thus I sit. I stare murder at the red-haired youth, and I hold my tongue. I feel as if I will tip over in my chair, but I hold my tongue.

"Do you know what 'Muggleborn' means?" asks the intense bushy-haired young witch. What was her name again? Oh yes! Hermione. I want to giggle suddenly. What an odd name.

"Yes," I say. I am surprised I have spoken! I intended to stare placidly at this bitch until I could get my hands around her neck. What has she done to me?

"So you know that I know the ways of Muggles and of wizards?" she asks.

"Yesh," I say again, and I want to laugh at my own voice. It is slurred. A small and shrinking part of my brain screams at me to SHUT UP!

"I have given you a narcotic which will make you speak truthfully. I don't want to hurt you, so you can relax. It is thiopental sodium," she says.

"Truth Sherum. Impressive," I say frankly, while I inwardly curse myself for a chattering fool. "Where'djoo get it?"

Lord Christ protect me.

"My parents are dentists. They use it for anesthetic sometimes. I watched them use it several times when I went with them to work, so you needn't worry," she said. I wanted to laugh at her earnest expression.

"Oh I am sure that I am in the besht of hands. A child witch playing with real drugs," I say sarcastically.

Hermione sniffs indignantly and I smile at her insolently. Inwardly I am telling myself to shut up and keep quiet. The drugs are definitely working. My hand starts to jerk in my bonds.

"Well then," said Hermione. "You look just about where Mr. Rupert was when he told my Dad that he was cheating on his wife. Not a good idea to shock a dentist when he has a drill in your mouth."

Ron and Sally look at Hermione and me as if we had each grown three heads.

"Oh, don't look so worried, Sally," I say to her with a chuckle. "I'm fine."

"I bet you are," my sister says, smiling.

Deep in my mind, as if covered with layers of earth, I feel my conscious self. It is screaming in alarm and trying to summon all of my physical skills to tear these ropes, and cast God's judgment on these devils. I shrug my shoulders uncomfortably and sit still.

"I know a bit about you, you see," says Hermione with a kind smile. "I've read about your Order."

"Must have been...unnerving... for you," I say lightly. I hear myself guffawing at the joke. Of course they look at me without the slightest idea as to what the joke is, so I laugh harder.

"No not really," says Hermione matter-of-factly with a smile. "But I think it is deeply fascinating. You're with the Order of the Archistrategos, aren't you?"

"Give that girl a prize," I slur.

"And you kill dark wizards, don't you?"

"Whenever I ken."

"Good wizards, too, I reckon," says Ron with a continuing scowl.

"Only when they're shtupid enough to get in my way. 'Gainst the rules otherwise. 'Least fer now," I say. "You know, Ron, your face is gonna freeze like dat if yer not careful." My inner consciousness cringes at the gales of mad laughter that burst out of me and I feel my fingers and wrists twitching as if directed by someone else. Sally giggles too.

"Ron, please!" says Hermione as Ron pulls out his wand.

Sally asks, "What is your name?"

"Pudentane. Ask me again and I'll tell you the same." I manage to avoid giggling. "C'mon you know, Sally. Can't say it anymore. Don't know it anymore, but you do. God. Thank God, God does. Mom and Dad took it with them and told Him. You took it and told God, too."

"I forgot," she says with smile. "What is it again?"

I feel uncomfortable and I fight the sudden urge to weep. I also feel a wonderful floating feeling swimming through me. My wrists feel sore as if they are straining heavily, but that must be a wrist belonging to someone else.

I say, "Fergot? You can't ferget. Whash the point of thish then?"

She looks at me quizzically, and I feel bad that I confused the poor kid. I say, "Little Shister was always big...cute and short on a brain-brain. Pudentane! Ask me again and I'll tell you the same." I am annoyed that I can't reach out and muss up Sally's hair.

Hermione looks at me pensively and asks, "What do your fellow members of your Order call you?"

"Ahhhhhhhh. Thas a diffren' story. I am called Augustine by those fellas. You ken call me, 'Sir.'"

"Not bloody likely!" snorted Ron. "Hermione, is he pissed, or what?"

"Shhhhhh!" says Hermione as she looks at Ginny and me for a moment. She nods her head slightly.

"I really oughtta shut up, now," I say worriedly. "What'd you give me, again?"

"I tell you in a moment if you answer a couple of more questions."

"Okay!"

"Is that mark on your arm the 'Relic of St. Michael?'" she asks softly.

"Yep," I say as my inner self starts to scream.

"And it makes you resistant to magic, correct?"

"Usually. Not workin' too good now, though, God help me. Or did you use drugs? I ferget..." I say with a nervous laugh. My neck starts to feel weak and I am getting sleepy again. My wrists are on fire and I try to move them a bit. I am sleepily surprised that they can move.

"And potions, and attacks and..."

I interrupt her, "Kent be touched by potions or poison. Also ... my mind is safe."

Ron says, "Not from where I'm sitting, you daft prick."

"It makes the wearer resistant to mind altering spells?" says Hermione tapping her chin.

"Bingo!" I say. "Can't be mishguided or comfounded or...any of that shtuff."

"Bloody hell!" says Ron.

"That's where your goin.' God's comin' fer ya. Sent me fer ya. Dark first, then the rest." I say with a shrug. My shoulders move easily within my loosening bonds. They don't notice the change. I try to put a beatific look on my face as I feel drool roll down my chin.

"Would your Order help magical people?" asks Hermione.

"Depends," I say.

"Would your Order help good wizards kill bad wizards?" she asks.

"Mebbe. Gotta truce fer hundred of years with good ones. Have to get the bad ones fust. Have to ask da Cardinal in Rome. Torrio...have to talk to Torrio." I say. I try to shrug again and I flop a little to the side. I feel a magical rope slide off my hand. I guess my inner self has been hard at work in this dream.

"He doesn't look too good," says Ron.

Sally reaches forward and wipes drool off my chin with a cloth. "She gave him an...erection?...of something."

I guffaw and Hermione giggles. "An injection, Ginny," says Hermione.

"He looks really bad," says Ron and I am amazed again by the concern in the boy's voice considering we were trying to kill each other a few hours gone. He's standing close now.

I try to laugh and it comes out as another croak. "What good people yer Devil Worshippers!"

Hermione looks annoyed. "I have more questions. Augustine?"

"Yep."

"Do you know who Voldemort is? Does your Order know who Voldemort is?"

My gorge rises and the room grows dark around me. The Dark Mark on my arm grows cold.

"Augustine, do you know who he is?" Hermione asks again.

"Kill him...when I see him...drink his blood...eat his heart...destroy him...God's will." As I say it my eyes swivel to Sally and I look at her as intensely as I can; which is to say, my eyes don't roll up in my head for few moments.

"Maybe this guy isn't so bad," says Ron lightly.

"Why?" asks Ginny, horrified by my words.

I manage to hold her gaze. The rising sun peeks through a window in the small room and bathes us all in yellowish dawn light.

I say, "For Mom and Dad and...you."

Ginny continues to look at me like the madman I am. Hermione inhales sharply. Ron curses under his breath. I laugh again.

"Augustine," says Hermione as she lays her hand on Ginny's shoulder and points to her as if presenting me a gift, "who is this?"

My stomach lurches. "Don't feel good." My head lolls back and I suddenly feel like I am made out of jelly. "Tired," I croak.

The room seems to spin and I feel like I am going to be sick. I feel something running over my cheek and taste bile. I realize I already am sick. I think about moving my hand up to wipe away the sputum, but I have a feeling like I am not supposed to let them know that I am unbound.

I feel someone smacking my face lightly. "Augustine? Augustine! Hermione, I think you used too much."

"I didn't mean to hurt him. I figured he would have some resistance," says Hermione. I open one eye and her hands are fluttering in worry. I want to laugh at the fact that she is so concerned about someone who wants to kill her.

I feel my heart skipping a beat, and I think of tapping my feet to the tune. Sally's face swims into view, and I want to give her a kiss on the cheek. She is worried.

I do not want her to be worried. I will show her. I try to perk up a bit. They are just barely more than children, after all.

"Don't worry, Sally," I mumble.

"What?" says Ron.

I blearily look up to see Hermione and Sally looking down at me. I am on my back on the floor.

"Don't worry about the ropes?" I say as I finally draw their faces into clear focus.

"Why?" asks Sally.

I hold up my unrestrained hands. "Because I broke them."

"Shit!" exclaims Hermione.

I am amused by their sudden excitement as they all draw their wands and point them at me. My inner voice screams at me to jump up and start killing them, but I find the scene a bit too funny.

I need a nap. I put my unbound hands behind my head in a relaxed manner and smile luxuriously. I stamp down on the inner voice. I gain satisfaction enough from the kids' sudden realization that I could have resisted them at any time. I take a long look at Sally's unnerved face and chuckle slightly. I close my eyes.

I don't know. Maybe the drugs drained me of my motivation. Maybe in my current condition, I know that my technique would be too sloppy and they would just kill me or tie me up again. Maybe I realize that my body and my brain don't seem to know what each other is doing right now.

Or maybe I have decided that there has been enough killing and violence in front of my little sister for now.

As I feel sleep overtake me, I think that maybe I am just going soft.