Redeem Me

DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write…are dominated by gay themes and characters. That's how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.

Redeem Me…by Samayel

Chapter 13: Allies and Artifacts


Harry told Molly that he was dropping by the twins' shop, knowing full well that she’d assume he was checking on his silent partnership in their enterprises. Had she known the full extent of their involvement in his activities, she’d have been furious, but Harry had no intention of ever letting her know how deeply they had been involved.

Fred and George had suffered from the war as much as anyone had, and more than many. George had lost an eye, which had been replaceable with a sleek, new model of the contraption once worn by Mad Eye Moody. George’s, of course, had several extra enchantments upon it. They had taken the murder of Ginny quite personally, and the collapse Ron had suffered after Hermione’s death had been more fuel on the fire for revenge. Throw in Bill’s scars, two attacks on the Burrow, and the assault on their shop that had cost George an eye, as well as what Harry himself had endured, and the Weasley twins were primed to deliver justice in any way they could.

Fred and George had developed a first class system of informants around the country, using their uncommon wealth to make information about ex-Death Eaters well worth passing on. They also discreetly provided Harry with free access to their vast arsenal of traps, tricks, distractions, and devices. These things had proven invaluable depending on the ‘operations’ Harry undertook. Attacking groups was the hardest, and great caution was needed when picking off guards, lest the others scatter before Harry had caught up with them.

A quick departure by Floo, and Harry was in the back offices of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, coughing out soot and dusting off his coat. Fred and George were in the main office, now that they could afford clerks to handle the store and manufacture the merchandise.

The enterprise would have earned Harry a pretty penny, or a nifty Knut, in any case, but the Ministry contracts for their goods had increased earnings to such a degree that Harry had seen a hundred-fold return on his initial investment. Fred and George kept Harry’s name off the books, simply shunting the money through their own salaries and holdings, then filtering it to Harry’s Gringott’s account as gifts and donations to their favorite wizard and family friend.

The office was a tidy little room, ill befitting the status of two such wealthy wizards, but the twins really didn’t care about pomp and circumstance, they cared about getting the paperwork done quickly and neatly, and getting on with the business of making new merchandise as much as possible. Harry walked past the secretary, a pretty girl with ash blond hair who waved a distracted hello to him as he passed, and entered the private offices of the wizarding world’s hottest entrepreneur’s.

“What have we got? Anything red hot…or is it something that can cook awhile before I move on it? We’ve got things going on at the Burrow you ought to be brought up to speed on, so this trip isn’t wasted either way.”

“It’s fairly hot-”

“and reasonably solid.” The twins never shook the habit of completing one another’s sentences. It was jarring for most people, but Harry had gotten used to it.

George relayed the rest of what his brother had started. “Yesterday morning, there was a sighting in Leeds. We think it was Kaminski based on the description.”

“He was shopping, Muggle style, and the places he visited indicated that he was making a supply run before dropping back into hiding.”

“You might want to move on it fast. He’s got supplies enough for at least a month, and if he travels inconspicuously enough, we’ll have to wait until he pops up again. Here’s the address.”

Fred handed Harry a slip of parchment. Harry memorized the information and willed the paper to float into mid air, then burst into flame and burn to fine ash. A grim smile was on his face.

“Do either of you know anything from the files on him? I can’t remember his habits. Was he just a foot soldier or was he Inner Circle? Does he torture or kill? Has he been involved in post war attacks, or has he just been hiding all this time?”

George stared at a filing cabinet with his enchanted eye, and several files popped out and flew to Harry’s hands.

“Kaminski was a minor player. Just cannon fodder, really. He was in on a few attacks on Muggles, but he was never Inner Circle. He hasn’t got any history of doing more than just following orders and raising a little mayhem in Voldie’s name back in the day.”

Fred picked up the thread of conversation from there. “We do have a couple of statements that suggested he was one of Bellatrix’s goons the day she killed Hermione. That may be why he’s still in hiding. Shacklebolt would put anyone who was involved with that bitch in Azkaban for life. It’s either rot there-”

“or keep running. He chose to run. That makes him fair game in our book. It’s not like they didn’t have a choice. They lost, they should pay, and if they won’t-”

“we’ll help you make them!”

Harry smiled again, just as grim as before. The twin’s devices had saved him time and effort, and their information had made things possible that he couldn’t have hoped for otherwise. Ron had been a great fighter during the war, but after Hermione and Ginny, he just hadn’t had the will to fight. Fred and George had stepped in to take their brother’s place, and they’d proven themselves a dozen times over. He was damned lucky to have friends who would go so far for him, and he bloody well knew it.

When he’d worked alongside the Aurors, he’d been responsible for four captures and seven kills. Whether those kills had been necessary had been a matter of some contention at the Ministry. Since he’d taken up working alone to avoid conflict, the sometimes grotesque and spectacular deaths of ex-Death Eaters had resulted in dozens of surrenders, and the Ministry had captured still more who got careless while fleeing to safer countries. All tolled, Harry had captured or killed more than thirty-eight Death Eaters, and only a dozen or so were left running about England. It wouldn’t be long before he could rest. There were only a few more that needed to be ‘taken care of’.

“Tonight then. I’ll hit this place around midnight. In the meantime, I’ve got word from home. Things have been…interesting. Draco Malfoy is living with us. Under sanctuary.”

The twins shocked expressions were worth it.

“And you haven’t buried him-”

“in the backyard yet?! Harry, Harry, Harry…”

“you’re losing your touch!”

“I wanted to kill him off when he showed up, but your mum accepted his request for sanctuary. I’ll say this, though. He’s been through hell since the end of the war, and he’s come out the better for it. He’s not at all the sniveling little ferret I remember from school. It’s taken almost a week just to heal the wounds on him, and he’s been a good guest the entire time.”

George’s eye popped out, dangled low, then swung back into place. The gag effects he’s charmed it to perform were the stuff of old Muggle movies, and quite corny, but the wizarding world was full of people who had never seen such pratfall, physical comedy before. Harry chuckled while George recomposed himself.

“Stap me vitals, Harry! It’s hard to imagine Malfoy as anything but a backstabbing little shit. If he can get you speaking well of him-”

“he must have changed!” Fred was just as floored as George.

“He is…changed, that is…and I believe it, or I’d never have left the house while he was there with your mum. I asked about Kaminski’s habits for a reason. Draco was picked up by Death Eater’s. He’s so fucked up he can’t even really talk about it without having a complete breakdown, so draw your own conclusions about what they may have done to him. It may have been one, but I suspect there were several involved. He’s lucky just to be alive. They dumped him off in the middle of Muggle London, figuring he’d die of exposure. I want to know who’s left on the list that might torture someone like him for months, then let them go because they were bored. He might be able to lead me to them, but first I have to get him well enough to handle talking about it. So what have we got?”

George closed his real eye, concentrating with his magical one. He whispered an activation command. The files he’d read appeared in front of his field of vision, only to him, and he read them aloud for the benefit of Fred and Harry.

“Display open case files on Death Eaters still at large. Scroll down. Faster. Okay, stop. We have Kaminski, of course. There’s Morrigan, Chalmers, Hyde-Pratt, MacNair, Rodolphus LeStrange, Farnham, VanHoek, Perliss and Derringer. There may be a few more out there, but without the Ministry’s updated files, we can’t say for sure.”

Fred scratched his chin. “I’d say LeStrange and MacNair are good candidates. They were the most serious bastards in a pack of all the same. They’re the two most wanted ex-Death Eaters in all of England, though, so I doubt they’d rear their ugly faces just to play with a hack like Malfoy.”

Harry thought for a moment, then asked one last question.

“Can you tell me which ones have been sighted in London in the last year?”

“Morrigan was sighted in a park about ten months ago. Perliss…he was supposedly in a pub this summer, but the information was unreliable, and MacNair was seen three months ago, and was almost caught, but the Auror on his tail was practically incompetent and got punched in the face rounding a corner. Lost him completely. Dawlish hasn’t lived that one down yet. I hear they still mock him in the office by turning out the lights at random intervals.”

Harry kept his thoughts on Dawlish to himself. In his book, the prat should have been a pastry chef instead of an Auror. Still, with Kingsley Shacklebolt in charge, an idiot like that would never wind up with any power, so it was no great loss.

“Alright. Thanks, boys. I’ve got to head back and take care of a few things at home before tonight. If you come to call, don’t call Draco by his last name. He doesn’t even want to be called Malfoy now. Just Draco. I’ll give your mum your love, soon as I get back. Take care.”

“Always a pleasure, Harry, and-”

“we’ll see you again soon enough. Be-”

“careful out there.”

The twins gave him a matched set of somber nods, honoring him with the knowledge that, though they bowed to no one, the one person they respected enough to even come close to it…was Harry Potter.

Harry headed back to the Floo and whisked himself home in cloud of green flame. It was uncommonly chilly in the house, and Harry noticed the draft immediately. Something was amiss.

“Molly?”

Harry saw that front door was ajar, and feeling a faint thread of worry creep over him, he headed for the door and opened it, looking out into the yard. To his relief, Molly Weasley was standing at the edge of the garden, staring at the sky. Harry closed the door properly and walked out to join her.

“Molly? Are you alright? The front door was open. You had me worried for a second.”

Molly turned and looked at Harry like she’d just realized he was speaking to her. A look of surprise crossed her face.

“Oh! Dear. Well, it was too warm in there anyway. I’d made some bread for later and the heat got at me something awful. I just came out for a breather, you know. I must have forgotten to shut the door. Silly me. Let’s go on in then, and we’ll see if we can’t get you a nice cuppa.”

She seemed calm enough, but something felt terribly odd about her speech. If Harry didn’t know Molly better, he’d have almost thought she was covering something up, but Molly had always been bold as brass, and open about everything. If she said she was fine and all was well, then that was just how it was. Harry let it lie, and followed Molly back into the house. Whatever it was, she’d tell him if he needed to know, and surely she’d tell Arthur if it was more private. Over tea and fresh bread and jam, Harry let his mind slip back to more immediate concerns.

Tonight he had a mission. He’d Apparate from the front walk to Leeds as soon as everyone was abed. He’d have to prepare a little, but since this was a lone Death Eater, he wouldn’t need much of his gear from the twins. Those were saved for more complicated jobs. For this, he’d need only a few simple things, and of course, a few powerful items that he possessed and kept for just such occasions.

Harry went upstairs, noting that Draco was sleeping fitfully as always, and closed the door to his room. He spelled open his trunk, and removed a black bag from the bottom. There were several packages inside, and he opened them one by one.

He’d dress in his black combat robes later, but these were what were important. Among the things he laid out on the bed were four small throwing knives, each with a sheath that could be strapped close to his body, and a small variety of toxins he could coat the blades with. There was a garrote wire, strong enough to hold tight under any circumstances, and with a quick twist he could lock it in position and leave an enemy to die, and it would stay as tight as if he were still holding it. There were flashbombs, meant to blind and distract the unready, and several gadgets provided by Fred and George, including one that created the impression that he was standing two feet to the left of his actual position. Another ’toy’ of theirs responded to curses by creating the illusion that the curse had worked, leaving an immobilized or maimed body in plain sight, while Harry himself was invisible and unharmed for a full thirty seconds. Tricks like these had saved his life more than once.

Finally, there was a small cache from the Black estate vaults, and several artifacts from Dumbledore. Mostly small talismans and protective ornaments that warded off anything but the most major curses and hexes, but one was special. Plain and unassuming, one small amulet, a silver disk with runes etched in a language that was long forgotten, lay waiting for Harry to make use of it.

McGonagall had debated long an hard about whether Harry should have this, but in the end, she followed Dumbledore’s will to the letter. Among the many magical artifacts, books, and other valuables he’d left in trust for Harry, this was the most valuable, and the source of much of Dumbledore’s awe inspiring mystery and power. The Dampener.

It probably wasn’t the amulet’s true name, but it was as close to an accurate description of its effects as one could come. The Dampener caused one’s magical signature to seemingly vanish, so that spells, wards, magical traps, and other attempts to scry, locate or tamper with the bearer would fail. Wards simply ignored whoever wore it, allowing Harry to penetrate magical defenses with ease. In combination with his talent for wandless magic, The Dampener made it almost impossible to track him or trace him to a location where he had struck.

The Dampener had been used by Albus Dumbledore for more than fifty years, and it was one of the keys to his ability to come and go where he pleased, seemingly unperturbed by petty things like death traps and lethal warding spells. The knowledge of its existence had been limited to two people, because an item of such power had to be carefully guarded, lest it fall into the wrong hands. Dumbledore’s last gift, his final bequeath to Harry, had been possession of this artifact, and it made him one of the most dizzyingly powerful sorcerers in existence. With this, he could kill with impunity, and the Ministry could only guess as to whether or not he was involved. To be sure, they knew that when Death Eaters were found dead, it was probably Harry, but they couldn’t prove it, and that was all that mattered.

’Thank you, Albus. Even from the grave you helped me find a way to make the world safer for everyone. Maybe you would’ve done it differently, but you believed I could be trusted with this, and I’m using it the way I see fit. I’d give just about anything to talk to you again, or to see Hermione or Ginny one more time, but at least you can rest knowing that I won’t sit still while innocent people are getting hurt. Thank you.’

Harry selected the items he’d take with him tonight, and prepared an unlicensed Portkey that would take him home in an emergency. Now he could spend the afternoon as he saw fit, and when midnight came, he would hunt again.

TBC!!!