Renaissance

A/N: Mamacita-san and refuz2luz for beta-read this chapter and I thank them both. Warning the religious mentions continue in this segment and again, no offense is meant, hopefully none will be taken.
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13.

“All right, people, what’ve we got?” Harry charged through the door of Staging Room 3, immediately gaining his team’s attention. They’d been gathered in clusters and pairs around the table or evidence board, but everyone quickly seated themselves once Harry took his position at the head of the table. He noted the furtive look that passed between his best friends, and Ron’s clenched jaw, but dismissed both in favour of Tonks’ anticipatory look. It was the expression of an Auror about to make a big arrest. “Tonks, what have you to say about the parchment analysis?”

“We’ve finally caught a break, Harry.” She smiled proudly. “The parchment is custom-made exclusively for a small press called New Horizons. They mostly publish religious texts—”

Harry shot up in his seat. “Bibles?”

“Uh...yes.” Tonks’ eyebrows rose at Harry’s eager appeal, but he waved her on. “—as well as prayer books and devotionals, all written by one Mary Martha Lazarus. The press runs out of a small shop in Hogsmeade, but it was locked up tight when Seamus went by earlier.”

“Hours by appointment only, the sign says,” Seamus added. “And there’s a flat above the shop but no one was there either. All together s’a dingy little place. I don’t reckon they get many visitors.”

“No, I don’t reckon they do.” Harry’s voice was thoughtful and grim. “Have we traced the magical signatures on the hate tracts to Mary Martha Lazarus, by any chance?”

This time it was Hermione who answered. “No, Harry. The signature traces back to an adult male, but not one on file with the Ministry. Whoever created those pamphlets didn’t receive an Apparation license, has never been in trouble with the DMLE, and was most likely homeschooled since all magical learning institutions register their students’ signatures.

“It may also mean that he’s uncommonly powerful or proficient in wandless magic, as all wands are also registered,” she added, worry-lines creasing her brow.

Hetty shook her head. “I doubt that; we would’ve registered greater residue at the scenes if we were dealing with an extraordinarily powerful wizard. It’s more likely he’s using an illegal homemade wand, or a family heirloom that was passed down before the wand registry was established. Besides, if he were so powerful he wouldn’t have bothered recruiting ickle firsties to do his legwork.

“And speaking of the snot-nosed simpletons, Messers Green and Willoughby were very eager to help further our investigation.” She shot the room a triumphant smile that would have sent wolves running. “Once they realised additional charges of obstruction could be brought against them, that is.”

Harry chuckled darkly. “I don’t suppose you advised them of the likelihood of being charged as adults this go-round, did you, Hetty?”

“I may have mentioned that,” the dark-haired witch replied casually, “and that an additional charge would violate the terms of their probation.”

“Hetty, that’s coercion!” Hermione gasped.

The older woman shot her a rather unimpressed look. “They’ve confirmed the link between the hate tracts and our male suspect,” she went on, ignoring Hermione’s affronted huff. “Their contact is a Mr. Iscariot, who they met at the Three Broomsticks during the first Hogsmeade weekend.

“They were drawn to the idea of a new social order, with them at the top o’ the heap of course. They also responded well to Iscariot treating them like adults: affirming their opinions and respecting their ideas. It never occurred to them that he was setting them up as pawns to do his dirty work in spreading hate.”

“That kind of validation can be very effective in recruiting disaffected youths, Hetty,” Hermione said, and added, “particularly young males who seek a collective identity and sense of belonging but still wish to be viewed as powerful and unique. These messages are geared to convince the adolescents that the establishment of a new order is a higher calling. It happens all the time with hate groups in the Muggle world that target teens for membership.”

“Idiots,” Hetty snorted, “the lot of them. Blinded by their own self-importance.”

“Well, whatever their motivation we know this Iscariot’s involved and we need to bring him in.” Harry frowned; the name was familiar. He was certain he’d heard it before, but where? He threw it out to the team. “Is anyone familiar with an Iscariot family?”

Seamus shook his head. “Not any Wizarding family. I’d say it’s an alias. I was raised Catholic, you know—a type of Christianity,” he explained for the task force members who had limited experience with Muggle religion. “Judas Iscariot was one of the twelve disciples chosen by Jesus Christ. An’ depending on your view of things, he was either the most devoted disciple, delivering the Lord to His destiny despite knowing the torment Christ would suffer, or the most pitiful excuse for a friend who betrayed the Son of God’s life for thirty pieces of silver—a bit more than three thousand Galleons* now.”

Harry drummed his fingers over the poison-pen Draco had received that morning, as he fit his vague memories of Sunday lessons with Draco’s conjecture and what they’d learned through the investigation; it was coming together now. “Given what we know about New Horizon, I’d say there’s definitely a connection with Iscariot, then. It may be that we’re looking for one or several people but it’s likely, considering the evidence, that it’s one obsessive, delusional wizard who thinks he’s answering some higher calling to purge the world of the impure, or some such rot.” Harry flicked his wand and the poison-pen flew up to the evidence board and was enlarged for everyone to see clearly. He highlighted the most directly threatening portion and shared with his team the assumptions Draco had made earlier.

“With what you said, Seamus, it makes sense.” Harry nodded as, aloud, he cobbled together his theory. “I think Iscariot is acting alone. He’s the author of the poison-pens and the killer. He sees himself as the most devout servant, the one who has to make the hard sacrifice and risks the world hating him because ordinary people can’t understand the kind of faith needed to deliver an innocent to death, just like Abraham did. Only God stayed Abraham’s hand. Judas had to go through with his act of betrayal because Jesus asked it of him, even though it was the most painful thing he’d ever done and he later hanged himself from the shame of it.”

“Cor, Harry, that’s...twisted,” Tonks breathed, wide-eyed with shock.

“Well, for now it’s conjecture,” Harry admitted. “But it’s as good a working theory as any we’ve come up with so far, and it fits what we do know. We need to find our Mr. Iscariot, which means a raid on New Horizon because it looks like that’s where we’ll find him and most of our answers.”

“We need to act now, Harry,” Seamus spoke up. “I’ve read about obsessive faith killers. Iscariot, or whatever his real name is, will likely keep on until he’s fulfilled his mission. We need to stop him.”

“And we will,” Tonks said, her discomfort replaced by determination. “We’re going in tonight, yeah, Harry?”

He nodded and the team got to work planning for the raid and arrest. Harry set Hermione the task of assessing Mary Martha Lazarus’ writings, hoping they would provide greater insight into the mind of their suspect. She’d also search birth records to try and determine Iscariot’s true identity.

They worked for the next hour on entry plans and sent Ron to do reconnaissance in Hogsmeade. He set off a ward-eater, a device only available to Aurors that would consume the magic of wards on nearly any structure while projecting a tactile illusion that would mimic the look and feel of the dismantled protections. Ron also used a Signatus probe to map the building’s structural features so the team could complete their planning with a three-dimensional projection. There was still no sign of their suspect when he returned to report. They agreed that was worrisome, but it was likely someone would return to the building in the evening. The raid was scheduled for eleven o’clock.

“Not to throw a wet rug over anything, but what’s our backup plan if the raid doesn’t go as we hope?” Seamus asked once the tactical strategy was laid out.

Harry looked up from their breach model and sighed. “I have discussed with Draco Malfoy the possibility of setting a trap for the killer. We know he’s hyper-focussed on Mer. Malfoy as a target, and based on the last letter it’s likely we could set up another plan to apprehend him using Malfoy as bait.” He ignored Ron’s snort of disbelief and muttered comment about Draco’s cowardice to scrub his eyes under his glasses. “I’m hoping it won’t come to that. I don’t want to have to put any civilian, but especially one under our protection, in such a potentially dangerous position. We have a good plan here.” Harry waved a hand at the 3-D breach model. “And if all goes in our favour we may be able to end this tonight.” As task force leader Harry decided he’d detail the plan to use Draco only if things went badly. It would only clutter up his team’s minds and divert their attention from tonight’s mission otherwise. For now he was satisfied that they’d done good work and were closer than ever to ending this nightmare.

Harry dismissed everyone to get some rest. They’d reconvene at nine to finalise the arrangements and coordinate with the additional Aurors participating in the capture. He still needed to inform Kingsley of the plan and retrieve a warrant, as well as brief the other Aurors who’d join the task force for this mission. Glancing up at the expectant faces of his best friends, Harry realised there was one additional thing he needed to do.

Once the room cleared he stood and faced the two waiting by the door. “Well, let’s have it.”

Hermione gnawed her bottom lip, her arms too full of books and parchments to twirl the ends of her hair as she usually did when nervous or upset.

All right, looks like I’ll have to start this one, Harry decided when the silence had stretched on too long. He braced his arms and leaned back on the table, feigning a casualness he hoped would keep the confrontation on a relatively even keel. “Do you know what Resonance is, Hermione?”

“A supposed bond-like reaction which occurs between two people of highly compatible and complimentary soul and manifested magic,” she answered automatically, bobbling her head along with the memorised lines. “But it’s a myth, Harry. It doesn’t really happen. I don’t ‘resonate’ with Ron, for example. We’re just two people who love each other very much and work together, but there’s no mystical connection like that.

“Resonance is another example of pureblood hegemonic practice used to maintain the status quo; in this case it’s used to justify forcing young wizards and witches into arranged marriages!”

Harry turned his eyes on Ron, not having missed the other man’s brief cringe when Hermione matter-of-factly denied the existence of Resonance between her and her husband. “What do you think, Ron?” he asked softly. “Do you think it’s just a myth? What would your mum say if we asked her?”

The tall ginger frowned. “She’d say it’s a miracle of magic. One of the great mysteries and a blessing for those who have it— ‘s what she used to tell us, anyway, when she talked about how she and Dad got together. But what does that have to do with anything, Harry?” He asked mulishly. His tone was sharper and more defensive than it needed to be, and Harry knew that Hermione’s need to qualify and quantify everything had hurt Ron more deeply than she could have understood. But that was a concern for another time.

“I have Resonance with Draco Malfoy.”

“Impossible!” Ron roared at Harry’s simple statement. “You expect us to believe you have Resonance with that slimy little snake?” He shook his head. “The git’s dosed you, Harry; that’s the only possible explanation. Resonance—” He looked sadly at his wife a moment. “It’s real, and it only happens between people who are or can fall in love and mean it. Resonance is lasting and honest and natural—that ferret freak doesn’t have an honest bone in his twisted body.” Ron’s snort was a wet, ugly sound. “Having a kink for Malfoy’s mixed bag isn’t Resonance, Harry.”

Harry lunged off the table and was halfway through a re-enactment of their morning scuffle before he reined himself in. As Ron shuffled backward, Harry clenched his fists at his sides and focussed on the feel of each of his nails biting tiny crescents into his palms. Ron is my best mate. I will not break his fucking jaw into little tiny pieces, no matter how satisfying it might be right now. He closed his eyes and kept Kingsley’s disapproving look firmly in the forefront of his mind while concentrating on taking deep, even breaths until the urge to shut Ron’s mouth for good had—mostly—passed. Opening his eyes slowly, Harry exhaled.

“I’d have to agree with your mum, Ron,” he finally managed in a passably reasonable-sounding voice. “Resonance is a miracle. And true. And I definitely consider myself blessed. I am in love with Draco,” Harry said firmly, shifting his gaze between his friends, willing them to truly understand. “I am in love with Draco Malfoy. I have not been dosed.” He held Ron’s bright blue eyes. “I am not delusional or compensating for misplaced guilt,” he continued, meeting Hermione’s disbelieving chocolate stare. “I am in love with hir. Sie is lovely, fun, smart, cunning, strong, and yes, sexy as hell. Sie is everything I’d want in a partner if I could have one made to order. What we have is amazing, beautiful, and lasting.” Harry took another small step forward and fixed his first friend with a glare so cold it burned. “And if you ever call hir a freak again...best mate or no, I will put you down so hard it’ll be a year before you even think about getting up.” Harry stalked from the room, fuming. He was really counting on the day getting better; so far it’d been mostly shite.

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Harry was rapidly losing hope for better as the time approached for the task force to leave for Hogsmeade. Siobhan Bravura was one of the Aurors assigned to assist in the breach and extraction. She was bold, brash, fearless, and held grudges like nobody’s business. It didn’t help matters that she was brassed off about not being selected for the task force; actually she was furious about not being chosen to lead the task force. She wanted full disclosure on every theory pertinent to the Auror Corps’ interest in the target, questioned every formation the task force initially proposed, and encouraged dissension among the Aurors who’d been brought in to assist with the capture.

By ten o’clock Harry had had enough. “Look, Bravura, we’ve been through this enough times already. Either you’re in or you’re out. This is not your case. Our interest in Iscariot is none of your business. You’re here to help us bring him in. End. Of. Story. We do not have time to feed your ego or wipe your arse. You’re not some fresh-faced greenwood who can’t tell which end is up in a fight and we could use you, but I’m not putting up with this; there are other capable Aurors in this department. That goes for the lot of you! We work together; we come home. This petty crap is what gets good Aurors killed in the field. And no one’s dying on my watch. So RIGHT NOW either you stow it and get with the program, or there’s the door and I find someone who knows how to work with a team and can take orders. DOES EVERYONE UNDERSTAND ME?”

“Kudos, Harry; well done,” Hetty whispered from beside him as the room snapped to attention and every Auror moved to his or her assigned group and reviewed the entry plan. Bravura shot him a quick glare but kept her mouth shut and turned her attention to the rest of the front-guard team.

Everyone took a break at half-ten, and Harry decided to make a quick run to his office to bid Draco goodnight. It was the action of a besotted romantic, but Harry was through with questioning his choices when it came to his new relationship. He felt what he felt and he was enjoying it. If speaking to Draco briefly before the mission would make him feel better, then so be it. They kept the AudioFloo exchange short and Harry promised to Floo hir again once their suspect was in custody. He warned Draco it would likely be late, as the processing and interview would take a while. The magnate scoffed and told Harry not to be imbecilic. Harry knew they’d come a long way when he actually thought that being insulted was rather endearing. He tapped off his AFR, ending the exchange before he could sink to further depths of soppy love-struckedness and headed back to Staging Room 3.

En route he met Hetty, who was sipping her customary cup of coffee and scanning the cover of the Evening Prophet. They were nearly to the door when her mug slipped from her hands in a flurry of curses. Harry was impressed; he’d never have thought to put a flobberworm in that context before. “So whose blood are the sharks after now?” Harry asked, referring to the Prophet’s cutthroat editors.

“It’s not the sharks you should worry about now, Harry,” Hetty snarled. The anger in her magic was white-hot and snapped around her as she brushed past him, her ambient magic so out of control it nearly blasted the doors from their hinges.

“BRAVURA!” The task-force witch bellowed for the brash Auror and cut a swath through everyone else to reach her. “You pathetic, self-serving glory hound! Happy now?” She grabbed the taller woman by the collar and dragged her over to the evidence board. Hetty held Siobhan’s face to the gory enlarged photo of Leslie Redbank’s mutilated body. “Was sie worth it? Or hir?” She flipped to the images taken of Cameron Davis’ autopsy. “You stupid bitch. You’ve jeopardised everything!” She tossed the other woman aside with disgust as the collective force stared. “Sir,” she panted, turning to Harry. “It’s over. Iscariot’s long gone by now. Bravura’s tipped him off.”

Green eyes widened in disbelief, but Harry didn’t miss a beat, stepping firmly into his role and reminding everyone of his authority. “Explain yourself, Pendleton. Bravura, sit,” Harry snapped at the woman crouching to stand.

Hetty pointed at the Evening Prophet she’d dropped on the conference table. “Cover story’s about the student initiatives at Hogwarts and how they were inspired by both your press conference and as a response to the expulsion and subsequent arrest of several students responsible for hate propaganda and an attack on a fellow student. ‘Auror Siobhan Bravura, a respected and well-placed source in the Ministry’s Auror Corps,’” Hetty sneered at her colleague, “‘is quoted as “working diligently to reform the delinquent youngsters.”’” The diminutive witch shook her head. “She released their names, Harry. Iscariot takes one look at that and he’s going to know we’re looking for him based on the boys’ official statements.”

Well, fuck. There goes the whole damn day.

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Triarii-specific Terminology:
Vamar: Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam
Veru: Triarii spouse

Notes:
*: 30 pieces of silver adjusted to 2008 exchange rates = approx. USD $12-15,000. 3,000 Galleons = USD $15,000 = GBP £8,000. Just for the perpetually curious who like me have a jones for random trivia ;)


Chapter 12 Review Responses
Thank you, Thank you, Thank you for the reviews!

Justmine25: I love cookies! Thank you! We got close to a little more than a slap for Ron this time around, we’ll have to see what happens though. He’s smarting a bit from what Hermione said and Harry’s feeling a little sorry for his friend.

Jeanne: Glad to have gotten in touch. Yay for the plot bunnies. I’m looking forward to it! I agree that it’ll take a major happening for Ron and Hermione, but don’t give up hope yet. They’ve been Harry’s best friends for a long time for a reason.

thrnbrooke: So it is ordered and delivered (grin). Ron does, we’ll have to see whether or not that actually happens. Harry’s trying but he’s quickly losing what’s left of his patience (and you know he’s not known for having all that much to start with!)