Out of the Night that Covers Me

Out of the Night that Covers Me

by Mephistedes

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XIV. Out of the Night That Covers Me, Part I

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Draco blinked. Then, he arched a pale eyebrow in annoyance.

“I practically save you from being deaf for the rest of your life and all you can think about is that infernal fuzzball? Not even a ‘welcome back,’ Potter?”

Harry shook his head and regrettably raised it from Draco’s hands. “No, Pash.”

He spun around wildly and searched the floors for any sign of silver fur. There were a number of dead bats littering the floor — had Draco really killed that many (for him)?

“I’m not following.”

Harry pushed aside the armchair, but found no sign of the rodent. “It was Pash,” he said again. “Think about it: we each had familiars — birds, cats, Crups and the like — and I only had Kreacher, so it’s got to be Pash.”

“Right,” Draco sounded slightly skeptical now that he couldn’t see his face. “All right, you’ve got me there with the creature connection, but how did they get her? I didn’t see anyone leaving or entering the house.”

“Well — ” Harry broke off, slowly twisting around. He grinned slyly at Draco. “You were watching the house?” he asked, his smirk intensifying at Draco’s scowl. “You were stalking me?”

Draco frowned. “I’d like to think of it as returning the favor.”

“How long?”

“Does that really — ?”

“How ... long?”

Draco pursed his lips and scoffed through his nose before answering. “About three weeks, but I have a valid — ”

“Stalker.”

“You never showed up for work, Rhys thought — ”

“Don’t bring Rhys into this,” Harry dryly ribbed. “You were stalking me, you stalker, so own up.”

“You’re a child, Potter,” Draco disparaged. “Worse yet, you’re a — ”

“Burk...”

Harry shot up at the soft bark, peering madly around the room. “Pash?”

He didn’t need to look far. The furry chin waddled out from beneath the sofa, stopping only to sniff at a few of the bats before continuing on her way. And to Harry’s astonishment, she’d not gone straight to Draco as expected. She’d sidled up to him.

“Well, well,” Harry chuckled, hesitantly brushing his knuckles across the chin’s soft head. (Old habits die hard, after all.) Amazingly, she didn’t attack. “Took you a near-death experience before you let me touch you, eh? A rat trap would’ve done the same, y’know.”

“Okay, this little reunion aside,” Draco sneered, “there’s still the matter of the bats from Hell that tried to kill you.”

Harry instantly sobered as he scratched Pash behind her ears. “We’ve established that I had Pash, and that someone other than us knew, but how? I sealed her off in one of the upstairs bedrooms for Ron’s party, and the Weasleys, they’d never turn against me.”

“Rhys?”

“Nah. He didn’t want Pash and her mates becoming clothes, you were there.” Said Harry. “Customers?”

Draco shook his head. “Didn’t have that many to begin with. We need to focus on the bats and how they found you,” the blond stated, peering at him curiously. “I didn’t know your Animagus form was a bat.”

“And I didn’t know yours was a dead ringer for my old owl, so we’re even,” he countered.

“Focus on the bats, Potter, okay?” Draco crisply demanded, waving his wand at the lifeless mammals. When his eyebrows knit together in befuddlement, Harry watched him flourish his wand again. Nothing. “Strange.”

“Hmf. Same thing happened when I tried to Levitate Pash earlier,” Harry admitted, leaning over and manually handing a bat to Draco. “D’you think there’s a connection?”

“At this point, nothing surprises me.”

He observed Draco’s examination, which consisted of him trying random spells that were all rejected, and looking over the creature. “Whoever’s doing this is using some powerful magic to repel spells: Tracking Charms and Repelling Charms.” Draco concluded, handing over the bat when he motioned for it. “They don’t want to be found.”

“Obviously.”

Studying the bat up close, Harry got a chance to see what he actually looked like when transformed. Thin, long wings, and fingers that stretched to the wing’s edge; scrawny legs; formidable face. If it weren’t for the large gash across its front, it would have posed a fearsome sight.

“You really did a number on these bats,” he said.

Draco scoffed. “You would rather I sat there and watched you die?”

“No, I’m sure they would have killed me,” he dryly replied, dragging a finger along the wound’s edge. “But the minute I transformed, the pain went away. The noise, it just stopped. But the ringing ... always ringing, two, sometimes three different times, and in all directions.” Harry stared at Draco intently. “Didn’t you hear it? The ringing? Don’t you?”

Draco gave him a strange, uneasy look. “No, Potter,” he said softly, but pointing out, “but you had better stay away from that open wound before you get an infection or something worse.”

“What? Oh, yes, thanks.” He hadn’t noticed his fingers steadily inching closer and closer to dipping in the injury. They’d nearly made it when Draco stopped him. Harry quickly pulled his fingers away.

The ringing softened.

Harry froze. He hadn’t even been conscious of hearing it, but there was no mistaking that shrill sound. It wasn’t as strong as the one that caused his brain to rattle in his head, but it was still that ringing noise. Now, it was barely a whisper in the back of his mind.

Frowning in alarm, Harry glanced down at his deceased handful before pulling it closer to his face. Though Draco protested, he moved his finger along the edge of the cut as before, and waited.

Ringing. He heard ringing. And when he withdrew his finger, silence.

“What is it?”

“Shh!” he shushed, laying the bat flat on the floor. There was something in the bat, and he was going to get it out. But he’d have to do it physically, as he could still sense the Repelling Charm like an invisible barrier around the bat. Despite Draco’s warnings, Harry pressed both his thumbs on the bat’s chest, on either side of the slash, and gently began to rub.

“That is disgusting,” Draco sniped from his seat. “Please don’t touch me until after you’ve washed your hands. If I get rabies, those bats’ll seem like a godsend compared to my wrath.”

But Harry wasn’t paying attention, because he could hear the ringing. The more he massaged, the louder it grew, but it was muffled, like a music box under mud-thickened water. Harry increased the pressure of his thumbs, pressing hard enough not to do any more damage in case he ruined their one chance at ending this, but — there! Something was emerging, peeking from the gash like a dulled point of a pencil, something small, and long, like a large grain of rice....

“Is that what I think it is?” Draco vacantly asked.

Harry was at a loss for words. “It’s ... the....”

“That’s—that’s the implant, the microchip implant.”

“Yeah,” Harry confirmed, surprised, plucking the chip out and holding it up. “Looks like the same one you implanted in Pash. A tracking....”

And suddenly, it hit him. How King was found in an out-of-the-way cave, or how Gareth and everyone else was all alone except the Malfoys; how their pets had gone missing or were found dead with no explanation.

“Draco, this is how they’ve been doing it!” Harry exclaimed. “Grab the pet the first chance they get, plant the chip, and wait for the right moment. It’s the radio frequency the chip gives off,” he realized. “Because you can track them anywhere.”

Draco nodded slowly, and Harry could see the realization creeping over his face. “If someone’s reversed the frequency in the bats’ chips to follow something instead of being found — ”

“They can locate the target and somehow screech the brains to mush.”

“By magic, of course,” Draco supplied disdainfully. “If these microchips are being augmented by magic, what’s to say the bats’ abilities aren’t strengthened as well?”

Harry idly shook his head, silently fuming. “Anyone with a pet is at risk. D’you realize we’ve implanted those chips on every animal at the Shelter? We’ve been helping them all along!”

He banged his fist against the chair and swore. How many had they unwittingly put in danger because of the stupid regulation? Because of some sick bastard?

“Oh, yes; there’s some powerful magic shielding these devices,” Draco informed, studying the implant before handing it back to him. “Magic-Repelling, Anti-Tracking, and Anti-Detection — that’s why no one found anything on the pets, because one would have to know where to find the tags. Have you still got the GPS? Maybe we can scan this one and track down its master.”

“Yeah, upstairs in the drawer by the — ”

Harry stilled with panic before jumping to his feet. “The rings! Oh, bollocks — the wedding!” How could he have lost track of time?

A steady stream of curses passed through his lips as he fumbled with his watch and moaned in despair, seeing the time: quarter after the time Hermione was due to walk down the aisle! He was in such deep shit now!

Harry swore some more, patting himself down to look presentable. He groped his breast pocket and sighed in relief when he felt the box of rings. “All right, if I leave now, Hermione might have mercy on me — ”

“What?”

“The wedding, I’ve got to — ”

“Let me get this straight,” Draco angrily began, “you were nearly killed, and you’re worried about some wedding?”

Harry dragged his fingers through his hair to flatten it, but it was, as usual, a lost cause. “Not some wedding. It’s Ron and Hermione’s,” he snapped. “You don’t really expect me to stay here? Not now!”

He raised an eyebrow as Draco clenched his fists and shook them with a strained grunt. Harry was quite sure Draco would rather wring his neck instead of nothing at all. Instead, he burst out, “You extraordinary idiot!”

“I’m the best man, I’ve got the rings,” Harry quickly defended. “They can’t get married without them! You weren’t there, Draco; you have no idea what the Weasleys’ll do to me if I’m not there by the end of it. Trust me: it wouldn’t be pretty.”

Still, Draco exhaled through gritted teeth. “Bloody fool!”

Harry threw his hands in the air. “This is their big day! Now, I’ve already ruined things by forgetting the rings, and further wrecked it because I’m late — !”

The rest of his justification was drowned out by Draco’s savage roar and Harry stood shocked as Draco seized his arms. He suddenly found himself slammed against Draco’s broad chest, staring astonished into wild grey eyes.

“I ALMOST LOST YOU!”

Harry’s mouth went cotton dry.

The bruising grasp on his arms lessened, but Draco’s hands didn’t leave him. His forehead creased, and his pale eyebrows lowered over darkened eyes that, Harry felt, saw right through him.

“You almost died,” Draco began in a strained whisper, “and instead of slowing down, you want to go to your friends. Why are they more important than your life?”

Harry opened his mouth. But he shook his head, saying nothing. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t sound ridiculously stupid to Draco:

That Hermione had been planning this for years, and had them Apparating into the middle of bloody nowhere for privacy.

That she’d brought her cat, for goodness’ sake, and that Ron had probably been tranquilized by a trigger-happy Ginny by now, thinking he’d skived off.

That his friends were counting on him, needed him, and trusted him, and he’d blown it already.

All these things Draco would scoff at, find fault with, and give him an alternative reason for. There was absolutely no excuse he could give to him.

“Well, Potter?” prompted Draco, fingers applying the slightest pressure on his arms. “What’ll it be? Live your life, or continue being their obedient little pet?”

Harry swallowed hard. “I...” Draco being this near made it so hard to think, and — was he really thinking this? There was no alternative. He had to go back, because he had the rings, and it was his responsibility, and he knew they never thought of him as a —

“Pet,” Harry thoughtfully murmured, looking down at a wide-eyed Pash.

It was as if a Filibuster Firework had gone off in a dark room.

“Crookshanks.”

Draco narrowed his eyes and tightened his hold. “What the hell is a Crookshanks?”

Harry’s heart was pounding in his chest as he grabbed the front of Draco’s jumper in alarm. “Crookshanks is Hermione’s cat,” he slowly explained, “Hermione’s cat, that went missing over two months ago and returned a week later. Hermione’s cat that she brought to her wedding.”

He nodded sharply as Draco’s expression registered panic. “A wedding where the invited lot are Muggles and Gryffindors, and Crookshanks is the bloody beacon the bats are following! We’ve got to warn them, and — oh, God, Teddy! Draco, my godson’s there! If anything happens to him — ”

“Don’t think about it. I won’t let anything happen to him, all right? We won’t let anything happen, just calm down, and think rationally,” soothed Draco. “Think like a Stealth Auror.”

Too edgy to scowl at him, Harry simply replied, “I’m not one, not anymore.”

“Yes, I overhead that, but in the meantime: Apparate,” Draco demanded, sliding hands into Harry’s own.

Had the situation not been so dire, Harry would have noticed the sparks shooting up his arms. Gazing down at him, Draco said, “We’ve got a wedding to crash.”

Harry groaned. Ron and Hermione were definitely going to kill him.


:::


Draco transfigured into his Animagus the moment they landed behind the front hedge.

“Hey! What about a — plan...” Harry flatly finished as the white owl spread its wings, preparing for flight. Draco took off into the orange and pink sky, most likely to scan the grounds for suspicious activity.

Which left Harry to do his part: creep into the ceremony, drop the rings with Ginny, and grab Kingsley with a minimal amount of fuss. It was a simple enough plan. Tugging his morning coat straight and taking a deep, steeling breath, Harry marched up the front stairs and through the house, into the backyard.

In retrospect, he realized he should have foreseen slinking toward the gazebo in a soiled morning suit and dried blood on his face would cause an uproar. It wasn’t his brightest idea, but it had to be said: he did nearly have his brain liquefied mere minutes ago.

Hermione saw him first — she was breathtaking in white, he noticed — and dropped her bouquet so fast Ginny dove to catch it. This, of course, completely shattered his stealthy plan, as all at once his friends clamored around him.

“Harry!” gasped Hermione.

“Where’ve you been, mate?”

“I tried to sedate him with one of Charlie’s dragon tranquilizers, but Mum didn’t think it was funny....”

“Oh Harry, you’re bleeding!”

Of course that much was obvious, but those words then prompted the guests into action and this was the worst plan he’d ever come up with....

“No, no, m’fine,” he batted their hands away and waved the watery-eyed Mrs. Weasley back in her seat. “Sorry, for the interruption. We’ll only be a moment. I just need — ”

“A doctor!”

“No, no doctors, please — ”

He’d spotted Teddy seated safely on Hagrid’s lap, Hagrid, who’d taken up half the back row, but where the hell were Kingsley and McLaggen?

“Smashed already? No sense of shame, that one....”

“Anyone here a doctor?”

“I said no doctors....”

“Blimey, where the hell were you keeping our rings, the Whomping Willow?”

“Could be a wrackspurt, he looks Confunded.”

“Let me through! I’m a trained physician.”

“No ... doctors!”

“He’s just a dentist, actually...”

“Ginevra never learns, does she?”

If he could just find Kingsley and focus, but so many voices, too many, he was still recovering from the ringing....

“Every wedding her dress falls farther and farther down her chest....”

“...If that’s what all of her friends are like, I’m leaving without cake....”

“But it’s a nice chest, isn’t it?” A sharp noise like a slap sounded, followed by a muffled curse.

“If it were my wedding, I’d have him thrown out.”

“Kingsley,” he managed to blurt out, leaning heavily on Ron’s shoulder. In a lower voice, he whispered, “I need to find Kingsley, it’s important. Where is he?”

He looked at each of his friends in turn, all with blank expressions. “I saw him inside chatting with McLaggen — the worst wedding date ever, probably,” wryly said Ginny, nodding at the house. “I think they wanted a tour, but I don’t think they ever made it out here.”

Maybe there was an emergency, something, something more important, else Kingsley wouldn’t’ve left without a word....

A sudden screech rent the air and Harry, panic squeezing around his heart like a fist, raised his eyes to the skies. A split second of calm abated his alarm as he recognized Draco’s majestic form darting around high above the crowd.

His relief was temporary, however, when he realized Draco was alerting him to the black mist that was fast approaching the garden.

Then, Harry heard it. The ringing.

“Hermione,” he hoarsely began, “Where’s Crookshanks?”

Her brow creased in confusion, but Harry gave her a pleading look. She slowly answered, “Upstairs. Why?”

His eyes still on the looming cloud of bats, Harry dug his hand into his breast pocket, pulled out the ring box, and tossed it to Ginny. “Don’t worry,” said Harry, glaring at the skies. “I’ll take care of things. You just get yourself married. I just need the loo.”

“All this for a piddle?” he heard someone (that sounded strangely like Aunt Muriel) mutter loudly. “The sot’s got no shame.”

“What? Harry!”

But he’d already dashed into the house and up the stairs. The ringing, it was still faint, but was growing louder with each passing second. He needed to get Crookshanks as far away from the house as possible to lure the bats away. Perhaps he should send a Patronus Messenger to Cottenham at the Ministry? He didn’t want S.P.O.O.K.s teeming at his best friends’ wedding, but there was no harm in strength in numbers, right?

By the time he’d reached the spacious second floor, the subtle ringing had become a low buzz in his ears. Crookshanks was definitely close by, but there was something else shifting in the air. Maybe he hadn’t fully shed his Animagus’ mind, but something didn’t feel right.

Flattening himself behind the nearest hall table, Harry aimed his wand down the curved corridor wall and whispered, “Homenum revelio.”

A gentle wave of magic rolled out across the corridor before returning to him as a cool wind. His fresh eyes and sharper ears confirmed it: he was not alone on this floor. According to his heightened awareness, there were two other humans here, and lucky for Harry, they were both around the same area where Crookshanks was thought to be. Wedding guests gone astray, or was it something more sinister? There was only one way to find out.

He kept low and crept along the wall, darting around tables — how many tables could one person own? — before he arrived at the end of the corridor facing three barn-red doors.

The one on his left was cracked just enough that he could see a sparkling white toilet and blue floor tiles. The other two doors were closed, but as Harry moved to open the first one, an angry yowl was heard behind the other.

Well, that was easy.

Wand raised and ears still buzzing, Harry reached for the doorknob and awaited the next angry mewl from Crookshanks to mask the noise of his entry.

At the sound of another wailing growl, Harry threw open the door and rushed into the room. “Expelli — arrrgh!”

Suffice it to say, Harry did not expect to lose his wand so quickly. The force of the other’s spell blasted him clear into the opposite wall — and another damn table, this time with flower arrangement — of the corridor. He wasn’t sure whether the drone in his ears was from Crookshanks or from hitting his head so hard. But Harry knew he couldn’t lie around too long; whoever had attacked him was still in the room, and knew he was vulnerable without his wand.

He had barely let out a pained groan when strong hands wrenched him forwards into the dim bedroom by his lapels, and flung him like a rag doll into yet another bloody table. It collapsed upon impact, crashing a howling Harry to the floor.

“I should’ve bashed you harder in the head all those years ago to permanently shut you up.”

Grunting in both pain and disbelief, Harry rolled off the debris, and seriously hoped Draco botched the spell with his ears because they had to be deceiving him. Raising his pounding head, he snarled, “McLaggen?”

As his vision cleared, Harry recognized the brawny figure, wiry hair, and that ever smug face. Indeed it was Cormac McLaggen, who smugly chortled and presented himself with a grand flourish. “The mastermind in the flesh.”

.:.