Harry Potter meets the Abhorsen

(Additional Disclaimer: This story contains characters and situations owned by Garth Nix and various publishers including Harper Collins. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.)

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Snow was falling thick and fast as the group of hooded strangers trudged the familiar climb to the mountain plateau known to locals as "punto di suicidio". It was a fair climb and, despite the snow, the group were obviously feeling the heat as they puffed and panted, all thought of conversation driven from their minds by the need to keep pace. There was no one around for miles. The poor weather had driven all sensible souls indoors and even the more reckless knew to stay off the mountains. There were sheer drops dotted along the length of the path which was treacherous at the best of times.

The leader of the group broke off ahead of the rest and clambered first to the middle of the plateau where, brushing the snow away, they placed an odd looking object on the flat surface of a small boulder in the centre of the flat area before collapsing to the ground, worn out. An owl hooted swooping lower down the valley making the hooded figure start but they did not get up.

Soon the rest of the group also made it to the plateau and sat down, together forming a circle around the mysterious object. After a while they began whispering amongst each other, discussing the reasoning for their being there. There was no need for caution; they were halfway up a mountain somewhere in the Alps with no English speaking people for miles around, who would overhear them?

Eventually, the one who had placed the object in the centre stood up, calling for silence amongst their companions. A hush spread through the hooded figures and they were silent, hidden faces pointed towards the object in the centre. The standing figure slid back a loose sleeve exposing his left forearm. There was a strange glowing mark upon it and when the figure raised his opposing index finger, placing it upon the mark, it shone brightly, illuminating the snow around.

The reaction was quick and the group were soon plunged back into the darkness of the snow storm.

A few seconds' silence passed between them before a loud crack echoed out. A new figure stood in the middle of the circle. His hood was pulled back revealing a bald head that seemed to emit its own ghostly glow and eyes, slit like snakes', glowing an eerie red. The standing man fell to his knees, the sitting group rising so as to kneel on theirs. A murmur of "Mi'lord" travelled through the ranks before the hoodless figure raised his hand for silence.

"Friends," he began gazing from one hood to another in an entirely unfriendly manner, "I hope that the reason you have summoned me here, is to report the successful completion of the task I have given you? After all, none of you would seek to displease your Lord." He spoke in rhetoric with an edge to his voice that sent shivers down many of their spines. One of braver of the group spoke up.

"My Lord, we have completed the task. See..." He gestured towards the object on the ground. "We have brought it to you ahead of schedule, wishing only to please you." With that he cast his face to the ground in a half bow.

The hoodless figure's red eyes swivelled to take in the area pointed to. An ugly smile spread across his face and he once again addressed the group.

"Well done. Your Lord is pleased and this shall not be forgotten. You will all be rewarded in due time. But for now..." he added, stooping to retrieve the object. "We must make a hasty return, if we are to finalise all of our plans on time."

Many of the group got to their feet drawing various wooden wands from their sleeves but the figure in the centre once more raised his hand.

"You will return the way you came; there is no need to arouse unnecessary suspicion."

With that he drew his own wand and with a second crack he was gone. After a moment's silence, irritated grumbles echoed through the group. Despite their complaints, they got back to their feet and headed off down the path they'd come. Murmurs and moans regarding hunger and tiredness followed them down the slope, out into the night.

Half an hour had passed on the plateau when an innocent looking boulder cast of its cloak and stood up, revealing itself to be a young woman and white cat, in disguise. The young woman walked to the area the object had lain before and ran her hand over the surface, allowing the fresh snow to sift through her fingers. The white cat licked its paw before casting a wary eye over the plateau and strolling over to where the young woman now stood, staring out at nothing. This appeared to be a common occurrence as the cat merely yawned and tugged at the hem of her dress in annoyance. The young woman cast the cat a knowing look before shivering and hastening back to the spot where her cloak lay.

"Cold, Abhorsen?" the cat asked sardonically.

Glowering down at the rude cat, she swung her cloak back over her shoulders and set off down a snow hidden slope, the opposite direction of the slope the group had taken earlier. The cat rolled his eyes behind her before stretching and hurrying after the woman, pouncing on bits of shadow as he went. As long as he had to be here, he decided, he was going to have some fun.

~*~

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away snuggled together in the warmth of the kitchen sipping cocoa and waiting for their fingers and toes to thaw were Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger and Ron's sister Ginny. It had been half a year since the defeat of Lord Voldemort and they had all travelled back to the Weasleys' from their various places of study for Christmas. Mrs Weasley was bustling about bemoaning their decision to go for a walk in the heaviest snow storm of the winter and muttering loudly that if they all died of frostbite or hypothermia it would be their own silly faults.

"Mrs Weasley, how is George getting on at the shop these days?" Hermione asked cutting across a rant of 'in my day, youngsters listened to their parents...'

"Hermione, dear tut tut after all the time you've spent here it's 'Molly', dear!" Mrs Weasley smiled over at her. "George is doing much better these days. Had you heard he set up the 'Fred Weasley Memorial Fund'? Yes," she continued seemingly missing Hermione's 'Well, yes, actually...' "Yes he felt it was the right thing to do, help other young entrepreneurs get a head start in business. I'm sure it's what Fred would have wanted."

She wiped away a small tear but smiled down at them all. "I have a great deal of reasons to be proud."

With that she hugged and kissed an unsuspecting Ron, who was closest to her, and bustled off to find spaces for all their coats to dry.

"Well, that was highly unpleasant!" muttered Ron, batting the mum kiss away. The others laughed at the look of shock and disgust on his face.

Harry looked at the faces of his three closest friends. He felt a rush of warmth emanating from his heart as he reminisced over the months since the final battle at Hogwarts. These people had risked their lives for him on so many occasions, trusting him, loving him, through all his trials and troubles they had been there for him. And now, he thought, they were having the life they'd deserved, a relatively carefree existence without the threat of Lord Voldemort in the back of their minds.

"Harry," Ginny brought him back from his thoughts, "I was wondering if you'd mind helping me look for Arnold's squeaky toy? ...In my room? ...Just now?"

A grin spread across Harry's face as he replied, "Sure!"

Ron's face was turning that shade of puce that so reminded Harry of Uncle Vernon. Hermione had obviously noticed as she chose that well placed moment to ask Ron if he wouldn't mind going over the rules of Quidditch with her in his room while he was free. Harry thought to himself it was no wonder Hermione had such poor knowledge of Quidditch remembering an unpleasant time he had walked in on Ron "explaining the rules" to Hermione.

Yes, thought Harry, life really was sweet.

They were heading upstairs when they heard a scream issue from the living room. Running in, they found a white-faced Molly being helped into the largest armchair by a ministry official accompanied by an also white faced Percy.

"What's wrong?" asked Hermione.

After sharing a look with the ministry official, Percy answered.

"It's Dad. He's been kidnapped. And the ministry believe that Death Eaters are behind it."

Hermione gasped, Ginny squealed, Ron turned pale and also had to sit down.

"What's going to be done?" asked Harry, a feeling of rage beginning to build in the pit of his stomach.

"Well, as we speak there is a full scale manhunt underway with as many Aurors on the case as we could spare," answered the ministry official. "Unfortunately, Arthur's disappearance coincided with a series of other high profile disappearances and the murder of a high profile Muggle family. I hate to say it but we feel that You Know Who may well be involved again."

"But...but...that's not possible!" stuttered a clearly shaken Molly. "Harry killed him... He's dead!" she issued more strongly.

She stared up at Harry looking for some reassurance but he closed his eyes and shook his head.

"There was always a possibility that Voldemort could have survived." He continued on despite the gasps of horror from Mrs Weasley, Percy and the ministry official, turning to look at Ron and Hermione he said "Their must have been another Horcrux."

Silence filled the room.

"You mean to say that... that..." whispered Hermione.

"Dumbledore, was wrong." finished Harry simply, "There were more than seven."