Breaking Point

Breaking Point
Chapter 3: Balance

Though I know I need to sleep -- I've needed to sleep for two days -- I can't. I'm beyond exhausted but every time I close my eyes, I imagine what Zabini must have done to Katy after killing her to bloody that room. A mere gunshot wouldn't have made it look like an abattoir. Then I imagine what Emily is suffering, and it drives me mad.

By the time the holiday fireworks have ceased, I'm ready to pursue Zabini. I have shed my tears, my Muggle items, and feel hollow enough to not obsess about how much like my seventeen-year-old self I feel. Everyone had expected me to die. I had expected to die. I was prepared to die. It should frighten me that I feel the same way now.

The only thing anchoring me is Emily. I can't fail her. For her, I will fight. For her, I'll keep myself alive.

I can't think about the alternatives, what would happen if she's gone, too.

Though I keep my gun and cell phone, I leave my other Muggle items behind on a clean corner of the dresser.

I haven't cleaned the house and don't intend to clean the house until I find Emily. I bare my teeth in a ferocious smile as I imagine the look on Jennifer Scott's face if she walked into the house now. She would first think me an atrocious housekeeper, despite the fact her daughter keeps the house. My gut twists at the thought of Katy, but I shove it aside and continue sorting ammunition. Jennifer's second thought would almost certainly be something else derogatory about me, whether it be I'd caused a fight or trashed the house myself. She would never think it a crime scene.

Ammunition counted and sorted, I shrink it all and shove it in an interior pocket of my trench coat. Though the heat index is still hovering around ninety near midnight, I need my trench coat. Beyond the sheer number of pockets and a holster for my gun woven into the coat, it's something Katy gave me many years ago. She teased me at the time that I looked like Keanu Reeves in The Matrix when I wore it, but her teasing made me more fond of it than I otherwise would have been. I spent twenty minutes after my crying jag embedding the necessary cooling charms and protective spells into the fabric.

While hunting Voldemort, Hermione managed to steal a set of Auror robes and dissected the spells in it. Once she'd done that, she taught them to Ron and I so we could, at a second's notice, weave the same spells into our own clothing. The corner of my mouth turns up ruefully as I wonder if she'd approve of what I'm doing with those spells now.

The idea about what to do next came when I reached into my pocket and found a scrap of Malfoy's clothing I don't remember picking up. Given the blood stains on it, it must have been part of his shirt. I take it and the few potions ingredients I have downstairs into the kitchen.

A wave of my wand repairs and replaces the curtains over the windows. There's no need for the neighbors to see what I'm doing.

Amidst the mess, I search for and find a large metal mixing bowl. Into it I place half the shirt remnant, taking care to include a portion with blood on it, a few dried herbs, and a mildly hallucinogenic potion. After filling the bowl halfway with cold water, I set it on the counter, take a deep breath, lean over the bowl, and cast a scrying spell on the contents.

Steam wafts upward, filling my nostrils with a scent that turns rancid and sweet. The surface of the water undulates, no longer reflecting my face but the last place Malfoy wore this shirt: the inside of the house on South American Street wavers into view.

The scene shifts, abruptly enough for me to think Malfoy must have been knocked unconscious, into another rowhouse, this one in a neighborhood on the edge and heading downhill rather than riding the wave of urban renewal. The buildings are brick, narrow and two stories tall, all of which pares down the possibilities for its location. I glance to either side as much as possible and see that the street is extremely narrow, forcing the cars to park partially on the sidewalk to allow a car to drive on the asphalt.

That slowly shifts into another place, the exterior of which implies it should match the rancid scent. Graffiti decorates the exterior, which does not surprise me, above the bags of trash huddled next to the wall. The door, almost camouflaged by graffiti, is reinforced steel, and is the only thing to give away the fact this isn't just an abandoned warehouse. I get no sense of where the warehouse is, so Malfoy could have been telling the truth, not just had it locked away in his mind.

Inhaling more deeply, I close my eyes until the dizziness passes. When I open them, I can control the image more fully, as if I were there controlling the scene. Willing the vision to scan side to side, I nearly shout with triumph as the view shifts left. I study the image I'm seeing, "looking" left and right as much as I can, until I see something familiar: the South Street Bridge.

Pulling back, I collapse into a chair, coughing. I try and fail to suppress the nausea and vault to the sink, vomiting.

Once I can think again without feeling lost in my own head, I empty the bowl and incinerate the scrap of fabric. Now that I've obtained what I need from the remnant, I have no need of it and part of a bloody shirt isn't something I should leave lying around right now.

From another pocket, I pull out a map of Philadelphia. There are only a few places where one could stand and look up at the South Street Bridge. The west bank of the Schuylkill River in that area is almost entirely taken up by the University of Pennsylvania. The east bank, however, houses a few warehouses and an electric generation plant.

I want to be excited that I've tracked down a possible location, but any emotions other than anger and fury have been scalded from me. I feel only satisfaction that I could successfully scry the location since it's a skill I was never much good at. I should use something of Emily's and attempt the same procedure, but fear the answer.

Securing my wand and Voldemort's wand, my gun, and the various other shield and spell-based items I took from my cabinet upstairs, I cast a Disillusionment Charm upon myself, shivering despite the temperature outside. I pull what looks like a toothpick from a pocket, lay it on the ground, and enlarge it into my Firebolt. A quick charm on it makes it as invisible as I am.

Though I want to go to the warehouse first, I concentrate on the rowhouse. Once I have the image fixed in my mind, I exit the house, mount my broom, and fly toward the location.

Though I'd expected the house to be in Fishtown or Port Richmond, I find myself heading northwest to Manayunk. Traffic heading up 76 is heavy, despite the hour, making me grateful I'm essentially invisible.

A few minutes later, I begin my descent. I don't need the tracer spell to tell me I've found one of the buildings: the wards practically glow to my eyes. I don't know why I've never seen this place before, never had any inkling it existed.

Landing silently in the postage-stamp rear yard, I sigh. It's a drug house, not distribution but creation. As I contemplate trying to enter, the rear door opens.

"I'm trying to tell you, someone's out there!" a voice shouts from inside.

The wards alerted the occupants.

The man at the back door, features invisible since he's in silhouette, scoffs as a cat saunters up the steps. "It's just a damn cat!" he shouts back. "Told you they were set too sensitive."

The other man's reply is lost when the door shuts.

Sighing again, I mount my broom and kick off. Once outside the wards, I cast anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey wards on top of the existing ones. I doubt mine will be noticed given that the first set, though functional, were ineptly cast. Wards shouldn't be visible to wizards -- that essentially defeats their purpose. When my additions settle, I move to the front of the home and note the address. Since it's in the middle of the street, that makes identification more difficult. Then I call 911 and report the house. Hopefully my wards will keep everyone inside when the police arrive.

I don't wait around, but instead head south on the river, letting my mind wander. What I should do is call Tony and others in for backup. I should call Ron and Hermione and have them drop everything and get here in an hour or so via short Apparitions. They all would.

But I don't call. I can't. I have to do this alone.

This became personal when I discovered Draco Malfoy in the last place I'd expected him. I'm not even sure this is about releasing Pike other than he's a means to an end. If someone had asked me even three days ago who from my childhood would have the biggest grudge against me, who would be most likely to attack, I would have said Malfoy, not Zabini. But in this, he's merely a pawn. I don't know what I did to Zabini to cause him to destroy my family, and I'm not sure knowing would make a difference.

South Street Bridge glitters ahead. I slow down then glide to a stop on the eastern side of the bridge between the warehouse and the river.

The warehouse is almost identical to that of my vision. In my vision, I didn't see the blacked-out windows. I don't sense any wards, but that could just mean a better wizard put them up than the one who did the Manayunk house.

I shrink my broom again, tucking it into a pocket.

I'm tempted to Apparate inside, wand blazing, but that is almost certainly the best way to get Emily killed.

The desperate desire to do something pushes at me, but I tamp it down, wryly noting to myself that that fifteen-year-old lives closer to the surface than I thought.

I can faintly hear the river slapping against its concrete banks, as well as the occasional car across the bridge sounding a bit like muffled gunshots when tires traverse the metal grates. At three in the morning, despite the holiday, the city is mostly asleep.

The interior of the building is a mystery to me, I realize with dawning horror. The scrying spell I used showed me physical location and the exterior, but not interiors. Fuck. I could go in blind or ask Tony to get me to Malfoy and strip the knowledge of the interior from him. Neither is very palatable.

Shoving my hand through my hair, I walk the perimeter of the building. The only door is the reinforced steel door on the river side I saw in my vision. Every window is blacked-out with spells; paint would at least chip and allow someone to peer in. There is no basement access. I contemplate mounting my broom again and surveying the roof, but if Zabini has the exterior walls tightly locked down, he'll have thought of the roof as well.

Malfoy it is.

Unwilling to alert anyone inside that a wizard is outside, I walk the block and a half to South Street. From there, I Apparate home. I'm tired of going in circles. This will end tonight and Emily will be back in my arms. If she isn't . . . well, if she isn't, that's not something I can contemplate right now.

Flipping open my cell, I use the speed-dial to reach Tony.

He answers on the third ring, sounding much more awake than I would have thought. "Yeah?"

"I need to see Malfoy."

A humming silence fills the line, but I know he's still there. We both know I'm calling in a favor. Early in our partnership, he asked me to look the other way for something similar and I did.

"The Feds take him in the morning," Tony replies, grunting. By the squeaking I hear, I imagine he's shifted to sit up in bed.

I glance at the clock. Half three. "Then I'd better do this quickly."

Tony sighs. "Meet me in lock-up at four."

I'm already waiting at the main door when Tony arrives. He's disheveled and untidy but one of the few steady presences in my life right now. He stops a few feet from me, eyeing me critically.

"You look like shit, Potter," he growls.

I raise an eyebrow. "And you look like you got out of bed on the wrong side, DiMarino."

He snorts. "Yeah, yours." With that, he turns to unlock the doors.

Nearly all the prisoners are asleep except for the few most recently brought in, generally for drunkenness. It takes only a glare backed with a bit of magical glow in my eyes to make the drunks turn and hide. Tony glances at me once before stopping in front of Malfoy's cell and unlocking the door.

Before I can enter, though, he lays a hand on my shoulder to make me turn. "No physical marks," he murmurs, crossing his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge in his t-shirt.

I bare my teeth. "Of course not, but don't be alarmed if you see something odd."

He rolls his eyes. "Odd is ordinary for you."

I don't smile though part of me wants to do just that. Malfoy is asleep as I enter, but wakes quickly enough when I kick his bunk.

He twitches and falls to the floor, startling awake. Glaring at me from the floor, he looks like a petulant child. "You again."

Grabbing him under the armpits, I set him back on the bunk before he can protest. A softly murmured spell with a hand on my hidden wand keeps him pinned to the bunk. Another hidden spell places a silencing charm on the cell.

"I found the warehouse," I begin.

Malfoy laughs. "Congratulations."

Anger wells inside me, but I shove it back. Malfoy has always been an ass and only wants to push my buttons. Unfortunately, he usually knows exactly how to do it. I don't have time to proceed with woo

ing the information from him. Instead, I close the distance between us and grip his chin.

I hold his eyes with mine, hoping I can intimidate him into giving up the information. His grey gaze fades from superior to bland to submissive in the space of two minutes. I say nothing. Pulling my wand, I rest it against his temple. His eyes widen, fear now in them.

Before he can even open his mouth to protest, I cast Legilimens and crash into his head. He's frozen in place as I essentially rape his mind. Paging through memories related to that warehouse, I collect all the information I can and will sort through it after I leave. When I've collected what I think might be useful, I begin to pull out of his mind, but find a thread about Pike. Following it, I find he's been in Pike's company often enough to oversee brewing in Pike's absence. Pike is a wizard and in charge of potions for this group.

Setting aside that shock, I pull out completely and none too gently.

Malfoy sits, still dazed, on the edge of the bunk. Holding my wand on him, aiming between his eyes, I wait for him to meet my eyes again. He blinks. The fear in his expression increases, but I can't feel sorry about it when it's the exact reaction I'd desired.

Pressing my wand closer until it rests against his forehead, the scent of urine reaches my nose. Malfoy has wet himself in fear.

"No," he whispers.

Snorting in disgust, I cast Stupefy and Obliviate in quick succession. I release the silencing charm and call for Tony.

He appears a moment later and releases me, glancing only briefly at Malfoy. He meets my eyes as I exit the cell. I sigh and say, "He'll wake around mid-morning. Might give the Feds problems during transport."

We walk out of the detention area side-by-side in silence, stopping only once we're outside the doors. The first signs of dawn are appearing in the forms of a slight lightening of the eastern sky and the sound of birds. I wait for Tony to speak first, which he does after a minute.

"Did you find the place?"

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I allow, "I found one place, but I needed more information from Malfoy before I entered."

Tony rocks slightly on his heels, hands tucked deep into the front pockets of his jeans. "Do you need me?"

I turn at that. Yes, I need him, but there's no place for him there. "It's not a good idea, Tony."

He glances sideways at me, the look in his eyes unyielding. "You will call me."

"Yes."

Studying me another minute, he nods, then heads for his car.

I wait until he's out of sight before I cast a silencing charm on my shoes and Apparate back to the warehouse. From Malfoy's mind, I know there are no perimeter wards. All the alarms are linked to the physical exterior, meaning the doors, walls and windows. Though Malfoy consciously knew nothing about the warehouse, his subconscious held the password to get into the building.

Tugging the collar up on my trench coat as if to bury my face, I stride to the door. Knocking four times in quick succession, I lean in and whisper the password: "Mudblood." I feel like I need to wash myself after saying it, but it does open the door.

Elation nearly overwhelms me, then the worry that this was too easy fills me. Maybe Zabini expected Malfoy to keep their secrets due to the fact he was taken from here while unconscious. In any case, it worries me.

The door shuts behind me abruptly, and I have to dismiss the odd sensation of feeling sealed inside my own tomb. It's nearly silent. The only thing I can hear is the regular, mechanical thrumming of an air conditioning system.

Please don't let the warehouse be empty.

I pull my gun from my holster with small creak from the leather. My wand in one hand and my gun in the other, I begin a methodical search of the warehouse. Though I've become accustomed to building searches, I never again want to be accustomed to using both wand and gun. In the front half of the building, I find nothing more than boxes. Since I can shift one of them easily with my hands, I assume the boxes are either empty or filled with nothing more than packing peanuts. Considering they look too pristine to have been shipped, I can only conclude that they have yet to receive their contents.

Why is there a warehouse of empty boxes? Curiouser and curiouser.

My coat whispers around my shins as I turn to look down another row of boxes. At the far end of the row is a small patch of light. No sound, only light. Either no one is there or they cast silencing charms, even indoors, without a light-blocking charm, relying instead on the blacked-out windows.

I make my way slowly down the row, gun and wand ready. My heart is beating fast enough that there is a small twitch in my fingers with each beat. I must control the twitch before it makes me accidentally pull the trigger.

No one accosts me, no one confronts me. The only sound I hear, other than the air conditioning, is the barely-audible movement of my coat.

Kneeling next to the last box, I close my eyes and try to calm my nerves. I know I'm running on adrenaline, caffeine and a Pepper-Up potion, none of which is good for calming nerves, but I have to try -- otherwise I will get Emily or myself killed.

Crouching as low as I can go, I peer around the corner. I either crossed the entire warehouse or there are interior spatial charms because this seems to be the back of the building. Along the wall are a series of offices, one of which is lit, the door open and blinds up, clear signs they didn't expect company. However, between me and the office is another row of boxes parallel to the ones I'm crouching behind. There is also an empty aisle perpendicular to me and running the length of the warehouse. At the end of that aisle, furthest from me, is another pool of light with shifting shadows as people move.

Pulling back, I sit on my heels, still crouching and ready to jump up if need be. From this angle, I don't know if anyone is in the office or not, nor can I tell if anyone is in any of the darkened offices. I'm torn between investigating the office and investigating the far end of the warehouse. But, if Emily is here, she'd almost certainly be in one of the offices, hopefully the illuminated one.

Shifting my wand to my left hand, I rub my right over my face. Is my priority my daughter or Zabini?

My gut clenches. Definitely Emily. I can always call in Aurors after the fact, but I need to find Emily.

Though what I should do, to be safe, is backtrack to the door then head down a parallel row, I don't. Instead, I straighten, shift my wand back to my right hand and ease around the corner. The boxes, stacked three-high, are taller than I am. While that provides cover for me, it also provides cover for anyone who might be following me or even patrolling the warehouse.

Spinning around the corner to the next row, I cover the row with my wand and the aisle with my gun.

No one.

The illuminated office is still one row away.

I shift down another row. Still no one.

Crossing the aisle, I press my back to the wall next to the door. Still silent. Even if everyone were asleep, I would hear breathing and shifting, which means there's a silencing charm in effect.

I hunch down inside my coat, using it to mask my face as much as possible, then peek around the corner.

Two men, wizards almost certainly, are playing cards at the metal desk just under the window. Though one has his back to the door, the other is damn near looking right at me. Fucking hell, why didn't I put on the Invisibility Cloak?

Further back in the room is a small nest of blankets. And, in the middle of those blankets, is Emily.

I jerk back, flattening myself against the wall again.

I have to find a way to get the goons out and me into that room. I don't know if the silencing charms are one-way or two-way, so I can't automatically expect them to investigate any disturbance I make in the warehouse. More than likely, it would be the workers at the end of the aisle to investigate, not the two from the room, creating more problems than I need.

With Emily so close, eagerness to storm into the room is nearly making me twitch again. Gritting my teeth, I crouch down and wait.

A head appears in the doorway, looking first away from me then toward me up and down the aisle. Thankfully he doesn't look down. "No one -- " The rest of his sentence is cut off as he slips inside the silencing charms again.

Did he hear me or see me when I looked around the door? I didn't make any noise, so it must have been sight. I edge further away from the door just in time for both of them to step into the aisle.

Before I can consciously react, I've grabbed one and, despite having my gun in one hand and wand in the other, twist his head and break his neck. He falls like a stone. I meet Greg Goyle's eyes a half-second before I put a bullet in his brain.

The sound of the gun reverberates through the warehouse.

Fuck!

Shoving gun and wand into my pockets, I dash into the office. Noting only that she seems to be unharmed, I gather up a still-sleeping Emily, blankets and all and try to Apparate. Nothing. I try one more time before accepting there are anti-Apparition wards in place.

An alarm sounds.

Panic flutters under my skin despite all my training and experience. Were I alone, this situation would merely be bothersome. With Emily, though, it terrifies me. Shifting her from the cradle of my arms to my left arm, resting her head on my shoulder, frees my right hand. Yanking my wand from my pocket, I aim down the aisle.

None of the boxes will block a bullet, though they might shield some lesser spells. I can't afford to take those sorts of chances, not with Emily. And the only door is on the other side of the building.

I didn't think this through.

No time to worry about that now as the first spell careens around the far corner, crashing with yellow sparks into the wall in front of me.

Rather than cursing like I desperately want to, I first Disillusion Emily then myself. The cold sensation startles Emily awake, whereupon she promptly begins screaming. Hating myself, I cast a silencing charm on my daughter.

Spells crash all around us, pinpointed by Emily's screams. I turn and run into a row between boxes. Once in the middle of the row, I crouch down, resting Emily on my knee.

Though she can't see me and I can't see her but for a faint shimmer, I can feel her trembling. Stroking her hair gently, I put my mouth near her ear and whisper, "Sssh, it's Daddy." She jerks in shock, then trembles in such a way that I know she's crying. My heart drops into my stomach. "Sssh, you can't talk to me, but I can talk to you. It's a game."

Shouts resonate from where I left Goyle and his companion, most likely Crabbe.

"Do you understand, little one?" I whisper, still stroking her hair. She nods slowly. "Then hang on." I feel her arms wind monkey-like around my neck and my heart, from its location in my stomach, skips a beat. I don't deserve her unconditional trust, not after everything that's happened, but she doesn't know that.

Rising, I move sideways down the row toward the door, trying to cover both ends of the row with my wand at the same time.

The blasting curse knocks me off my feet, sending Emily crashing into the boxes behind me. I've got to get her out of here. I can't fight and protect her at the same time. Shifting to my hands and knees, I crawl across the floor to Emily's shimmer.

Then freeze when she becomes visible.

Her blonde hair, so like her mother's, is a filthy tangle. The white sundress flecked with pink bows she wore for the trip down the shore -- fuck was that only two days ago? -- is filthy. Her green eyes, so like my own, are puffy and red from crying.

She rises into the air by one arm, making me blink in shock until I see the shimmer of someone else under a Disillusionment. I cast Finite silently.

Zabini.

Zabini has my little girl.

He shakes her once, her resulting screams all the more terrible for being silent. Zabini notes this and ends my silencing charm on her. Her cries tear me apart, each one shredding my soul just a little more, adding to the guilt of Katy's murder already tearing me apart.

"Potter, what are you going to do about your brat?" he calls out. His voice is just as supercilious as I remember. His previously renowned looks, though, are marred by a vicious scar bisecting his face from his hairline, over his left eye, cutting short one nostril, across his lips and down to his jaw. Given how proud the boy was, I can only imagine how horrified the man is.

Then he shakes Emily again.

I stand, pulling my gun from my pocket as I do. Pointing my gun at Zabini, I tap myself on the head and cancel the spell, shifting my wand back to him.

His smile is oily. "There you are, Potter."

"Daddy!" Emily cries. I try to smile at her, but the hatred coursing through me nearly overwhelms the comforting thoughts I want to send.

"Now, are we going to be able to resolve this peacefully?" he croons.

He sounds insane. Does he really expect me to do anything peacefully? Playing along for the moment, I ask, "Resolve what?"

"I want Pike, you want your brat." He shakes her again. My hand twitches, ready to curse him.

"Why is Pike so important?"

Zabini stares at me for a long moment as if incredulous. Then he laughs. "You have no fucking idea what you stumbled on, do you? Just like in school."

I tip my head to one side, studying him. Other than the scar and the slightly mad gleam to his eye, he seems rational. Mentally, I scoff at the thought. Then I consider Pike and remember the odd smell about him I'd attributed to the sheer amount of drugs he'd had on him when arrested.

"A relation?" I ask finally.

His grin is chilling. "Very good. Now, can you figure out the rest or do you need a duplicitous headmaster to give you the answers?"

Why would he want Pike? Is Pike a relation close enough to Zabini to make him angry when arrested? What about the rest?

"The potions . . . the potions are the key," I whisper. Potion-enhanced drugs, a good sale for Muggle and wizard alike.

Zabini claps, shaking Emily in the process. She sobs uncontrollably and there is still nothing I can do about it. "By Merlin, he figures it out!"

"But why Pike?"

Zabini narrows his eyes. "Maybe you aren't as smart as I thought." He tips his head up to look down his nose at me. Slowly, as if to a backwards child, he says, "Zabinis are traditionally potions masters."

Pike looks a hell of a lot like Zabini, and is a relation. Brother or cousin who didn't go to Hogwarts? Gritting my teeth when he shakes Emily again and refusing to allow my anguish to show, I demand, "Is he your brother?"

His grin is terrible. "Maybe you are smarter than you look. Mother told me to look after him. It's not my fault he moved to this pit called America, but she sent me here to watch him. He's an ungrateful little bastard."

I don't doubt Pike is an ungrateful little bastard, but Zabini is insane. "What do you want, Zabini?"

He slowly sets Emily down, but I think the motion is secondary to his suddenly inward-turned thoughts. He doesn't let go of her arm, though. If he did, I'd encourage her to run forward and I'd then do my best to blast us out of here with sheer power.

"I want your life," he finally says in almost a sing-song. "You took mine, so it's only fair I take yours in recompense."

"I took your life?" I ask, astonished. "How did I do that when you're standing there talking to me?"

He rolls the left sleeve of his shirt up. The Dark Mark. The wand in the interior pocket of my trench coat vibrates and threatens to leap from the pocket. Fuck, I'd forgotten I put Voldemort's wand there. If I don't take it, it will go to Zabini; if I reach for it, he'll harm me or Emily.

It leaves me no choice as it slips from the pocket entirely.

As I grab the wand and aim it at Zabini's head, he grins viciously and turns his wand on Emily. My Reductor takes off his head before he can finish Avada.

Shoving the wand back into a pocket, I gather a stunned Emily and race from the warehouse, followed by Zabini's minions. Once outside the anti-Apparition wards, I Apparate Emily and I to the Stone Harbor house, forgetting until the last minute that our home in Philadelphia was trashed.

Then I carry my daughter upstairs for a bath. I don't know if it's because she's tired or in shock, but there is little animation to her. Gently, I strip her filthy clothing off, noting with horror that she was allowed to soil herself. Charming the water warm, I fill the bathtub.

As I wash her hair, rubbing her scalp, she starts to cry again.

And I cry, too.