Harry sat in his hotel room staring at the walls, he had killed again and he was unsure of how he was supposed to
feel about the fact that he had taken another life.
"I don't feel guilty," Harry mused to himself, "it was him or me and I'd rather it be him or me. I don't feel guilty
about it, but I also don't really want to stay around here any longer."
Harry stood up and packed the few items that he had removed from his Ruck and after taking one last look around
the room to make sure that he hadn't forgotten anything, Harry walked down to the lobby and checked out.
"I've got another assignment for you Lovegood," the Editor of the quibbler glared at his favorite reporter.
"Folks loved that article you wrote about Mr. Black, so I'm assigning you to write another."
"Ok daddy, er . . . I mean Chief." Luna gave a left handed salute, "reporter Lovegood is on the case."
"Black killed a man in Marseilles, I want to know everything about what happened." The Editor frowned,
"and none of that lone wolf stuff. The Commissioner's been on my ass all week about that bus you blew up."
"I thought that we were reporters not cops," Luna blinked at her father, "have you been taking your medicine again daddy?"
"We ran out of every flavor beans and my medicine has a candy coating," Luna's father looked down at his shoes.
"Besides, it was so far past its expiration date that I thought it would be fine."
"Well don't take any more of it," Luna put her hands on her hips. "You know it gives you crazy ideas."
"I'm sorry honey," he blushed, "it won't happen again."
"It's ok daddy"
"Now get out there and get me that story Lovegood, I don't pay you to sit around." The Quibbler's editor stormed out
of the room, "and if you have the time, could you get me a new box of candy?"
"Ok daddy, Reporter Lovegood is on it."
Luna walked over to the fireplace and tossed in a handful of floo powder, "French Magical Law Enforcement Marseilles."
And after a few minutes of waiting
"Hello," Luna squinted at the fire, "is anyone there?"
"My name is Pierre-Louis Boulanger, " a man in an impeccably tailored robe answered the fire moments later.
"The Press information Officer of Magical Law Enforcement, what can I do for you?"
"Yes my name is . . . " Luna took a few minutes to think up an appropriate alias, "Ms. Information and I was
wondering if I could ask you a few questions about Mr. Black?"
"One moment," Pierre-Louis stalled for time as he tried to think of the best spin to put on the story, "alright, please ask your questions."
"What exactly happened?"
"For some months we've been tracking the movement of a serial killer targeting the magical community," Pierre-Luis
licked his lips, the statement was a bit false as they had no prior indication of the killer's existence before Mr. Black killed him.
"Turns out the man was a Squib using the old Resistance tunnels and alleyways."
"Go on," Luna resisted the urge to smirk, it was so easy to get information if they were convinced that you already knew everything.
"We're not sure how but Mr. Black was able to track the man's movements," he gave a shy smile, "Mr. Black confronted the man and . . ."
"And?" Luna prompted.
"And . . ." he stalled for time trying to remember what had happened next, "and Mr. Black knocked the knife out of the way
and broke the man's neck."
"What spell did he use to break the man's neck?"
"Spell," Pierre-Luis began to sweat, he had gotten his position as a Press Officer more on the merits of how splendid
he looked in his robes then for any other reason. "Mr. Black used no spell, he broke the man's neck with his bare hands."
"Oh," Luna looked impressed. "What else can you tell me about the incident?"
"Well we've been looking through the old records and we've found that the murder knew about the old Resistance places
because his father had been a member," he smiled as a new thought rose to the surface. "But that still leaves us with one
unanswered question regarding the incident."
"What's that?"
"How did Mr. Black know so much about the resistance network?" The man leaned close to the fire, "what I'm about to tell you must not be attributed to me, if you choose to use it, you must attribute it to an unnamed senior source."
"If you think that's best," Luna gave her best trusting smile.
"There has been some speculation that Mr. Black knew of them because he used them when they were most needed,"
The man took a deep breath. "Many of us believe that Mr. Black may have been one of the men that was sent to help the Resistance to fight the forces of tyranny."
"Wow," Luna tried to make herself look impressed. "Does the French government plan to reward Mr. Black in any way for his courage?"
"I've been told that he stands a good chance of being inducted into the Ordre National de la Légion d'Honneur with the rank of Chevalier," the man gave his most charming smile. "Nothing is too good for the man that rid us of such a terrible killer."
"I see," Luna nodded. "When did Mr. Black leave France?"
"Leave?" Pierre-Luis blinked. "To the best of my knowledge, he's still here."
"What?" Luna shot up from her seat. "Please move aside, I'll be coming through momentarily."
Hastily moving aside, Pierre-Louis narrowly avoided the excited reporter. "Was there some reason that you chose to continue our interview in person?"
"Quick," Luna's eyes acquired a maniacal gleam. "You must show me the way to Mr. Black's hotel room."
Flinching at the look in the crazed reporter's eyes, Pierre-Louis was quick to agree and arrange transportation for the two of them.
"What room is Mr. Black in?" Luna shouted to her escort as they ran towards the hotel entrance.
"None of them." A woman with a poodle called out, halting Luna's advance.
"What do you mean?" Luna fought to keep her disappointment from showing.
He checked out and left about fifteen minutes ago," the woman shrugged, "you just missed him."
"Oh," Luna blinked and turned to her escort, "then could you show me the alley where Mr. Black had his fight?"
"Before you go," the woman with the poodle interrupted, "would you mind telling me how long you've been planning to come here to interview Mr. Black?"
"About fifteen minutes," Luna looked around with a dazed expression. "ever since I found out he was still here."
"Thank you," the woman nodded politely.
"Guess that answers the question of why he left," the poodle commented to his partner, "but it still leaves the question of how he knew that she was coming."
"Looks like he either has a way of intercepting floo, or he's bugged the office." The woman speculated.
"The man is a god," the poodle commented in awe.
"We gotta get back to the office," the woman ignored her partner's loss of composure, "the healer is about to give her report on what she found."
"Activate the Portkey," the poodle nodded, "I can't wait to find out what she was able to learn."
"In three, two, one." The two of them felt the pull of the Portkey and seconds later they appeared beside a large table.
"Good of you two to show up," the man sitting at the table's head motioned towards a pair of seats. "Now that everyone is here, I believe the healers would like to share their preliminary reports."
"Thank you sir," the healer nodded. "As many of you may know, I found something odd when I tested Mr. Black's blood. It appeared to contain a deadly toxin so, after obtaining Mr. Black's permission I cast a series of diagnostic charms and the results were astounding. Mr. Black has at one time or another broken nearly all the bones in his body and at sometime in the near past he had to regrow all of the bones in one of his arms, he is covered in scars many of which were caused by the darkest of magic. And as I said before his blood is rather . . . odd, I've spent nearly the entire afternoon testing the sample that I recovered from the blade of the knife and I believe that I may have a partial explanation of why it is so toxic."
"Go on"
"At some time in the past Mr. Black must have deliberately injected himself with a massive dose of Basilisk venom mixed with Phoenix tears." The woman rechecked her notes, "the tears counteracted the Venom's toxicity which is the reason that Mr. Black is not dead, I was unsure of why he did this until I noticed that the Phoenix tears didn't have the same amount of potency as I would expect from a fresh sample. So I double checked the blood sample, I noticed that while the Phoenix tears had gotten weaker the Basilisk Venom maintained its potency and my results showed that Mr. Black should have only a few months to live because of the tears losing their effectiveness."
"So what you're saying is that Mr. Black is dieing?"
"No, that's what my first thought was until I started checking the data from my diagnostic charms and they showed that he was healthier then one would expect after looking at his medical history. Somehow his body had adapted to the presence of the Basilisk Venom possibly by absorbing the magic of the Phoenix tears. So it appears that the poison in his system will never be a problem, in fact it wouldn't surprise me to learn that Mr. Black won't ever have to worry about most poisons. I was happy to see that my first conclusions were mistaken and that Mr. Black was not going to die, but one thing still bothered me."
"What was that?"
"Why did the potency of the Phoenix tears lessen while the potency of Basilisk venom remained constant?" The woman
looked around the room, "one would think that there would be at least some change in the toxicity levels, that's when
I found this." She tossed out a piece of parchment with a grainy image on it, "it appears that Mr. Black implanted a small chip of Basilisk fang into the bones on one of his arms, this has the effect of keeping his blood from becoming any less deadly."
"Good work," the man at the head of the table nodded, "do you have anything else to add?"
"One more thing," the woman nodded. "I know what he did, I have some idea of how he did it, but I don't know why he did it."
"Imagine a man that can never be disarmed, imagine an assassin that can bite his lip to access a rather large supply of some
of the most dangerous poison in the known world." The figure shook his head, "the dedication this shows is amazing."
"I have one more thing to add then sir," the healer paled as she considered the implications of her superior's statement.
"Whoever designed this process must have been insane, I can't even Imagine the amount of precision needed to ensure that the proper dosages were applied at the proper times. Whoever this Mr. Black is, and whoever he works for, they
operate on a whole different level than we can even imagine."
Elsewhere, Albus Dumbledore was presiding over a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix.
"I have some new orders for you in regards to the search for Harry Potter," Dumbledore took a deep breath, "I have been accused of treating Harry as an object, and it has been said that even if we did find Harry and return him to his family's house then we would be forced to maintain a twenty four hour guard on Mr. Potter to prevent him from disappearing again."
The headmaster's statements were met by several mutters and the old man held up his hand for silence, "I am not suspending the search for Mr. Potter. I am changing it. If you find him, inform the Order so we can devote our resources to keeping him safe at his current location, an action which I hope will keep him happier than confining him with the Dursleys."
"Why can't we just bring him here?" Molly asked, "or to the Burrow?"
"Those options remain open," Dumbledore nodded, "but when the time comes I am going to allow Harry to decide his residence."
Molly sat, satisfied that whatever happened the 'dear boy' would be happy.
"Now that we have settled one issue, I believe Alastor has something else that he'd like to bring to our attention." Albus gave the floor to his old friend.
"Black's struck again," Moody leered. "This time he killed a serial killer in Marseilles, the French seem to think that he has access to undetectable charms and they speculate that he's either bugged their office or has found a way to monitor the floo."
"Why didn't we hear about this killer before?" An anonymous member of the order asked.
"Cause the French didn't know about him till after Black executed him," Moody chuckled. "Black set things up to look like an accident, even used a bit of wandless magic, said it was accidental."
"Thank you Alastor, that was most enlightening." Dumbledore looked around the room, "I believe the next thing on our agenda is a report by George and Fred Weasley on one of their latest inventions."
Harry got out of his taxi at the mouth of the alley where he had earlier killed a man, and took a deep breath before stepping in. This attempt to visit the magical section of Marseilles went much smoother than the last and his trip through the alley went without incident.
"Could you tell me where I can buy a Portkey out of the country?" Harry politely asked the first passerby.
"Up the street about fifty meters," the now sweating agent replied quickly, "store named Travelers Return."
"Thank you," Harry began walking in the indicated direction. After a short walk, Harry found himself in front of a building covered with moving images of exotic locals.
"Can I help you?" Harry heard a young voice ask from behind, "I couldn't help but notice that you were staring at my store and I was wondering if I might be of some assistance?"
"I would like a Portkey out of the country," Harry sighed. "Whatever you have available is fine."
"I had a cancellation earlier, so I have one going to Monte Carlo in," the man checked his watch, "three minutes."
"I'll take it," Harry nodded, "how much?"
"Since they canceled at the last minute, the Portkey was already paid for." The man shrugged, "and my conscience will not allow me to sell the same item twice. Take it at no cost to yourself with my compliments."
"Thank you," Harry accepted a small round disk that he assumed to be a Portkey, "have a good . . ."
Harry's statement was cut off by the familiar pull of a Portkey taking him to the next stop on his journey.
"Would you like to place a bet sir?" Asked a man standing next to Harry at the head of a Roulette wheel.
"One moment," Harry blinked and took a moment to look at his luxurious surroundings. "Could you repeat that?"
"I was asking if you wished to place a bet with the chip in your hand sir," replied the man at the Roulette wheel.
"Sure," Harry dropped the chip on a random number, "thank you."
"Your most welcome Sir," the man nodded and then turned away to accept more bets.
Shrugging and feeling no need to watch his lone chip disappear, Harry walked away from the table to explore his new surroundings. He could now add gambling to his short list of life experiences, it wasn't like he needed to stick around to know that he was going to lose . . . was it?
Harry spent several minutes drifting around the floor of the casino before finding the exit and several minutes after that exploring the section of town that he had found himself in. Finally after nearly an hour of exploration, he ended up in a seedy bar with a drink in his hand, the last thing he remembered was being challenged to a drinking contest by several Australian backpackers.
"Good afternoon Mr. Black," a man in an odd yellow striped outfit greeted him, "are you feeling well?"
"Who are you?" Harry's mouth tasted like the floor of the Leaky Cauldron. "And where am I?"
"My name is Gunter Schmitt, a member of the Swiss Guard." The man nodded respectfully, "you are in the Holy city of the Vatican and I have a problem that I hope you can help me solve."
"What's that?" Harry closed his eyes and hoped for the world to stop spinning.
"I would like you to inspect some new wards that we're having put up," he replied calmly. "We asked some of our
contacts in the magical world for the name of a man that could be discreet and we were given yours."
"I see," Harry clinched his teeth to keep his stomach from jumping through his throat. "Why do you want me to inspect your wards?"
"A man was once contracted to build something out of marble, this man was supposed to use stone of only the highest
quality but he did not. Instead he bought stone of low quality and pocketed the difference. At the time there was another
man working in the same area, that man was widely regarded as one of the best artists of the age and he was also regarded
as the man that knew the most about stone. If anyone was to detect the substitution of low quality stone it would have been him."
The guard shrugged, "so the first man found a way to keep the second busy and his crime went unnoticed. We do not intend to make the same mistake."
"I don't know anything about wards," Harry tried to sit up, "and I have no idea on how to check them."
"You'll find a book on the end table next to your bed, in it is everything you need to know to perform the tasks we request of you."
The guard stood and began walking towards the exit, "and a uniform like mine is in the closet. If you choose to help us then read the book and put on the uniform, if you decide not to then knock on the door and someone will arrive to escort you out."
"I'll think about it," Harry replied through clenched teeth. "In the meantime, would you mind sending up a bottle of painkillers and some water?"
"I'll have them send up a few things to help with your stomach too," the guard paused before leaving the room. "Do you mind my asking why you were so drunk when we found you?"