Year V

Chapter 16

When Demons Talk

Back in his office located in Lynden Township in the state of Washington, Benjamin DeBoer, city-councilman, respected community leader, demonic overlord, and part-time little league baseball coach sat back in his chair as he talked away on the telephone discussing important business.

"Why, of course, Mrs. Colton...I would be honored...you know that I love judging the annual Harvest Festival pie bake-off..."

Okay, so maybe he wasn't discussing business at that moment, but still...being a community leader did have its requirements and perks. Besides, in his thirteen years in Lynden, DeBoer never turned down a chance for homemade pie...unless he was off torturing some unfortunate soul who crossed him.

"As always, you can count on me. I'll see you next Sunday. Good-bye, Mrs. Colton." He hung up the phone and leaned back. "Well...that takes care of that." He paused for a moment, contemplating on what dark deeds he should work on today.

Hmmm...maybe I can get in a round of golf in today.

Before he could reach for his phone and inform his secretary that he was taking off for a couple hours, her nasally voice came over the intercom on his desk. "Sir, there's somebody here to see you."

DeBoer silently cursed to himself. Of all the insolence...how dare they impede on his sacred golf time! Especially now, after nearly a hundred years of practice, he finally managed to master the game. He sighed and shook his head. "If it's someone here on city council business, tell them I'm not here."

"I'm afraid it's not one of them sir...this guy looks like he's dressed like some sort of freaky royalty."

DeBoer's annoyance at the intrusion vanished. There was only one man who fit that description. "Let me guess, slight southern accent and glaring at you this very moment?"

"That would be correct, sir."

"Ah...send him in...and Elle?"

"Yes sir?"

"Cancel the rest of my appointments for today, I have a feeling I'll be busy."

"Very well, sir."

"And take the rest of the day off."

"Thank you, sir."

A few seconds later, the door to his office opened and a large man entered the room. The visitor stood over six feet tall and had a pale gaunt face. His long brown hair hung in dreadlocks, most of which were tied back in a ponytail. His clothing looked as if it were from the nineteenth-century, complete with a cloak and cane. Though he fit the description of "freakish royalty", it did little to conceal the power that seemed to emanate from the man. Then again, as Grand Patriarch of the Guilds and head of one of the most powerful Assassin Clans, Roland Dupuis was used to wielding such power. Even though he was in his late fifties, Roland was still able to deal with assassins half his age which more than spoke enough about his lethality.

"Ah, Roland, it's good to see you," said DeBoer as he gestured for the other man to take a seat. "Have a seat and, as the muggles say, take a load off."

The big man shook his head as he stepped in front of Deboer's desk, a stern look on his face. "We have a problem," he said.

DeBoer chuckled softly. "You know, Roland, just once, I would like you to pay a visit without saying 'we have a problem' every time we meet."

"I've been informed that the British Ministry of Magic has detained my grandson," said Roland.

"Oh yeah...that." DeBoer smiled back at the large man. "I ordered him to do something that will get him thrown into Azkaban. You should be proud of him, Roland...literally ripped the Ministry right out of the Floo network and killed a bunch of people. According to my spies, he pretty much crippled them single-handed."

"Azkaban," repeated Roland Dupuis, his voice barely more than an angry grumble. "That was not part of the plan."

"No, it wasn't," said DeBoer, whose tone suddenly took an icy edge. "But then again, neither was letting Voldemort slip undetected into your domain and making off with the remnants of the Moreau clan. Oh...and while we're at it, I've been informed by my informants in Canada that one Bradford St. Croix has been very busy lately asking questions, poking his nose where it doesn't belong."

Dupuis grinded his teeth in irritation. "I have little control of what happens in Canada, Mr. DeBoer. As for the Dark Lord's intrusion, it is of little consequence. His removal of the remnants of the unnamed clan removes a dagger from my throat."

"That may be so, Roland, but I do not like it when my allies, especially ones who I have invested a lot of resources in, are asleep at the proverbial switch."

"I would be careful with such an accusation, Benjamin DeBoer." An evil gleam in Roland Dupuis' eyes was the only word of warning that told DeBoer that the Guilder knew something that he didn't. His next words confirmed it. "When I informed you that we had a problem, I knew it was something that you were not aware of and I dare say that it is of far more importance."

"I sincerely doubt that, Roland."

"Just watch and listen, my friend, I think you shall find it of interesting value, given your true nature." The Guild Patriarch reached into his cloak and pulled out what appeared to be a sphere of clear green glass and held it out in his open palm. The glass sphere hovered a couple inches up in the air before the small ghostly image of an old woman materialized above it and began to speak.

"In the shadows, the dragon shall rise against the serpent as light and darkness clash, ending the serpent's reign forevermore."

Upon hearing those words, DeBoer's face actually went pale and sweat started to form on his forehead. "Wh-where did you get this?"

"Berlin, Germany. One of our Seers sensed something there and I sent a couple operatives to locate it. Apparently, this reader-sphere was used to translate something called the Trelawney Tomes."

"The Trelawney Tomes," repeated DeBoer. He was thankful that he was still sitting down, because he was certain his legs would give out beneath him. Trelawney...a name he had hoped was just a footnote to history. Cassandra Trelawney was a seer from over a hundred years ago. Legend had it that she had written a book of prophecies that could only be translated by a true seer...except it was hardly a legend. Four copies of the book were made and given to people the old seer had trusted. DeBoer had acquired one and was certain the others were destroyed. "This reader-sphere," he finally said after a few moments of silence, "where exactly was this located?"

"The home of some warlock named Johann Kriegmann. It was considered a family heirloom of sorts and he put up one hell of a fight for it. There were some other things there as well...Teutonic manuscripts and various translations of the legend of Beowulf." Roland paused for a moment as he recalled something. "You said that Bradford St. Croix was causing problems?"

"Yes."

"Then that would make sense. My people recovered some letters in Kriegmann's study. Apparently he and St. Croix were in constant contact the last year or so."

"What were these letters about?" asked DeBoer.

"Hard to say...it was obvious that both men were paranoid that their posts might be intercepted, so details were vague. However, something called 'the silencer of the gods' was mentioned once. It was also mentioned that it was still in Italy."

DeBoer leaned forward in his chair. When he spoke, he kept his voice as even as possible. "I want these letters brought to me immediately."

Dupuis nodded. "It will be done. I take it this makes up for my alleged blunder concerning the Dark Lord."

"Don't push your luck with me," snapped DeBoer. "Your people should have kept a closer eye on the Moreau property, you screwed up and I don't take kindly to that. However...your discovery in Berlin more than makes up for this. Just take care of St. Croix."

"Very well then," said Roland Dupuis with a slight bow. "I'll send a team to Newfoundland immediately." He then turned and left the room, leaving DeBoer lost in his thoughts.

This is not good, thought DeBoer as he looked at the glass sphere Roland had left on his desk. Just when I thought things were under control. Well, at least we now know that St. Croix was up to.

DeBoer frowned as he remembered something else Dupuis had said.

The 'silencer of the gods' is still in Italy? How is that possible? Yes, it was found in Italy in ten years ago, but then it vanished completely from the world...how could that have happened?

For a moment, DeBoer entertained the fantasy that the Stiehl, the so called "silencer of the gods", had been destroyed, but he knew better. The prophecy he just saw, the same one he had read once before sixty years ago before he saw that copy of the book burned, was still active. That meant that the weapon was indeed still intact and, worse yet, the one who wielded it, the Dragon, may have acquired it...which meant that the time of the prophecy was coming soon.

Prophecy be damned! I did not come this far, this close, to die at the hands of the descendant of an old enemy.

It was obvious that St. Croix was onto him, but DeBoer was confident that the old wizard would be dealt with. Roland's people were brutally efficient killers. The only problem now was to find this Dragon and get rid of him. He swiveled his chair around and looked back up at the painting depicting a Norse warrior fighting against a giant serpent that hung on the wall. According to the legend, the heroic Beowulf had vanquished the fire-serpent. But as with all myths, that was not entirely true. In this case, the serpent was maimed, but not destroyed.

"Not this time, my old enemy," he said softly to the empty room. "Not now, and never again."

* * * * *

Lucius managed to suppress the involuntary shudder that threatened to run through his body as he made his way down the dusty torch-lined corridor that was located in the lowest levels of the Ministry. Since he first joined the ranks of the Dark Lord, he secretly dreaded that he would end up here where the Ministry detained prisoners before they were sentenced to Azkaban. That's why he almost found his current situation amusing. Here he was, Lucius Malfoy, member of Voldemort's inner circle being asked...no...begged by the Minister to help question a prisoner who claimed to be a Death Eater.

"As a former Death Eater, maybe you can get something out of him," Fudge told him. Lucius, though reluctant, agreed to help the Minister. After all, the Minister had apparated himself to Malfoy Manor to personally call upon him. Lucius didn't understand why the Minister just didn't summon him by Floo until they arrived back at the Ministry.

When he arrived at the Ministry, Lucius was shocked at the devastation he saw. He had often heard his master and fellow Death Eaters talk about attacking the Ministry...but he never expected to see such an attack happen. The whole upper level and main entrance to the Ministry was rubble. There were still smoldering fires in various places and he heard that there were at least a hundred dead. That was when he learned that the Ministry had been literally ripped out of the Floo network. Something caused all the fireplaces inside the Ministry to explode, causing damage to all levels and killing or severely injuring anyone unfortunate enough to be near them.

And the one person that did this is claiming to be one of us. Lucius still couldn't believe it, one man had accomplished in one day that his group, except the Dark Lord himself, could not. In the past, such an act would have been welcomed by the Death Eaters, but not now. Though the Dark Lord had returned, the plan was to lay low and keep a low profile. A majority of the Wizarding World still believed the Death Eaters to be a thing of the past, the Dark Lord a bad memory. The master actually preferred it this way, being able to work in secret without being hunted by the Ministry. Yes there were some, like that old fool Dumbledore and that Potter brat, who knew the truth, but most of the world didn't believe them. In fact, many believed that Dumbledore was going senile and that the famous "Boy Who Lived" was nothing more than a troubled teenager starving for attention. It was perfect, the Ministry was none the wiser, and the current administration was perfectly willing to believe that "You-Know-Who" was gone.

Then the attack on Diagon Alley happened, and the Ministry, perhaps out of public pressure and the need to not look like they were powerless, dragged former Death Eaters in for questioning. Lucius knew that his group was not behind the attack, and oddly enough, the Ministry officials believed him, even those who still looked upon him with suspicion.

And now, the Ministry is attacked, but they caught the man responsible. He claims to be one of us...why?

Even as that question was running through his mind, he was already coming up with an answer.

Of course...by committing these acts in our name, it's bringing Ministry pressure down on us, forcing us to hide. But that doesn't answer the other question: Who would want to do that?

One explanation would be that perhaps Dumbledore's allies were behind it, but Lucius immediately dismissed that idea. Albus Dumbledore was no murderer and wouldn't condone such an action. A small smile formed on his lips. But that would be an interesting rumour to spread around.

But the amusement faded as Lucius remember the day Diagon Alley was attacked. He was nearly killed by some creature that was lurking inside Borgin and Burkes before the Ministry brought him in for questioning. Could the person who unleashed that creature at Borgin's be linked to the attacks?

In the distance, Lucius could hear a voice. At first, he thought the person was crying out, then he realized they were singing.

"Stay around don't play around
This old town and all
Seems like I got to travel on..."

"A lot of people won't get no supper tonight
A lot of people won't get no justice tonight
The battle is gettin' hotter
In this iration, armagideon time..."

The words echoed down the corridor and, for some reason, seemed to make the corridor feel even more menacing. Lucius wasn't sure if it was the corridor itself, but the voice seemed to have an ominous tone to it...more as if it were making a prediction instead of singing a song. Whoever was singing this song was definitely not in their right mind, Lucius decided.

"A lot of people runnin' and a hidin' tonight
A lot of people won't get no justice tonight
Remember to kick it over
No one will guide you through armagideon time..."

Lucius reached the source of the voice and saw two aurors standing guard outside of an iron door. "The Minister sent me to interrogate the prisoner," he said.

One of the Aurors nodded while the other unlocked the door and opened it to let him in. "Be careful, sir," said one of the Aurors. "He may not have his wand and he may be restrained, but be on your guard at all times. This one is a nutter."

Lucius nodded his acknowledgment of the man's warning and entered the cell which was illuminated by several floating candles that materialized out of thin air as he stepped inside. Inside the sell, chained against the wall by massive golden chains was the young man Lucius had seen on the roof-top of Flourish and Blotts a few weeks ago.

The young man looked at him through strands of long dark hair that hung over his face. Lips parted to reveal white teeth and a cruel grin. "Well...well...pain...chains...and the famous Lucius Malfoy...I guess this place lives up to its four-star rating after all."

Lucius didn't bother hiding his surprise. "You know me?"

The young man laughed, a cold snicker that actually chilled Lucius to the bone. "Oh...I know who you are, Lucius...you could say that I'm something of a fan of yours." His eyes narrowed slightly and glowed as he spoke. "After all, that was quite a show that you put on ten years ago. Where was that place again...Italy?"

Lucius' blood froze as the memories of that night at Isola Bella flashed through his mind, but it only took him a moment to regain his composure and force those feelings and emotions back into the corner of his mind. He was not about to be intimidated by this young whelp. "Who are you?" he said, keeping his voice as even as possible.

The other man pretended to shudder. "Ooooooh...nice ominous tones, there, Lucius. 'Who are you?'....ooooh very scary. I'm shaking in my boots here." He paused for a moment as he contemplated something. "However, since I know who you are, I should at least give you my name. It's Nicholas."

Lucius could feel his anger building, but he managed to keep it in check. "Very well then, Nicholas...where are you from? From your accent, I'd say you were a Colonial."

"Uh-huh...you wish," snapped the young man who looked as if Lucius had insulted him. "If I were a Colonial, I'd be whining about unfair and unjust treatment and screaming for an embassy representative."

"Well, you certainly have their pompous attitude and arrogance down," said Lucius.

"Ouch...nice return Mr. Malfoy. So, I'm curious, what brings the illustrious Lucius Malfoy to visit poor little me?"

"You claim that you're a Death Eater, and I was brought in to identify you."

"Ah," said Nicholas. "The Minister doesn't have the balls to question me himself so he gets one monster to interrogate another...nice plan."

"Watch your tone boy!" snapped Lucius. He could already feel his control starting to slip away. "You have no clue as to who you're dealing with."

"Oh, but I do know who I'm dealing with. And what can you possibly do to me? You can't go Crucio on me, not here in the Ministry." There was a cold gleam in Nicholas' eye as he spoke. "Besides, I'm a little too old for you. Last time I checked..." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "You only torture five year old boys."

That did it. Before he even realized what he had done, Lucius had lunged forward and punched Nicholas in the face, snapping the young man's head sharply to the side. "Listen to me, whelp, do not try my patience."

The other man simply shook his head and licked the blood that had started to trickle out the corner of his mouth. "Okay...that was impressive. I didn't think you were capable of doing such a thing...after all, isn't that a muggle reaction?"

Lucius' anger rose again and he brought his wand up, pointing it at the young man. "I may not be able to use any of the unforgivables on you, but I can still hurt you."

"Really?" Nicholas grinned at him. "Did you know that I sometimes pay good money for...ah...nevermind, we should leave my S&M sessions out of this, shouldn't we? Go ahead, Lucius, do your worst. It might be enjoyable for the both of us, but it won't stop what's coming."

That bit of information made Lucius lower his wand slightly. "And what do you mean by that? What, exactly, is coming?"

"Oh the usual...death, destruction, mayhem...revolution." Nicholas shrugged. "I know you'll probably dismiss it as rhetoric, then again, you old-worlders always were a little dense."

Lucius wanted to hit the prisoner with a curse that would cover the man in boils, but there was something in the man's eyes that stopped him...something that told him that Nicholas' words were not the rhetoric being spewed by some crazed prisoner. "This revolution...when is this supposed to happen?"

The smile Nicholas gave him chilled Lucius to the bone. "It's already started, Mr. Malfoy. Your master's return just makes a convenient smoke-screen."

"You shouldn't be so quick to dismiss the Dark Lord," said Lucius. "He will oppose your people, whoever they are."

"Ooooh....the big bad Voldemort is going to stand up against us. I have a question for you: What is it about an albino geriatric with a snake fetish that has people like you quivering with fear and kissing his ass?" Nicholas shook his head and laughed again. "Voldemort and his little crew are a thing of the past...old, outdated, and ultimately doomed to failure."

"But unlike you," hissed Lucius, "the Dark Lord and his 'crew' are not heading off to Azkaban. The Dementors will enjoy feasting on you." He turned away from the prisoner and made his way towards the door. "Guard!" The Aurors standing guard outside opened the cell door for him to exit.

As Lucius stepped through the door, he could hear Nicholas' cold chuckle echo off the walls of the cell. "Don't be so sure, Lucius. We will meet again."

Nicholas was still laughing as the door closed on him. "Well, that was fun," he said to the darkness that now surrounded him. "What did you guys think of the show?"

Glowing red pinpoints of light appeared in the corners of the cell and the shadows oozed to life, a soft hissing could be heard as the shaders coalesced into vaguely humanoid form.

"No, my friends," he said. "Not yet...but don't worry. We're almost there...and then...it'll be feeding time."