The Last Hunter
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Legacy of Evil: Dirk in the Dark
🕑 Added 2024-04-11 01:55:39 +0000 UTC"You were out rather late last night." I paused, glancing towards Natya as she served breakfast, a hot meal of buckwheat porridge with fruit slices, fresh baked bread and some fried mackerel. With a newspaper in hand, I had been glancing over and wondering if my little escapade drew eyes, but for now it seemed I had gotten off scott free, as I let out a bashful smile and glanced away.
"Ah, my apologies. But I didn't think you'd like if I brought someone here."
She fixed me a look, stern and thoughtful before she went back to serving as she took a portion of food for herself. "So, what was her name?"
I laughed sheepishly, affecting another bit of embarrassment as I spoke. "Ah, I couldn't tell you. Now I could tell you about a mole on her inner thigh, just-"
She threw a napkin at my head and I let it, just smiling as she scoffed. "Pig."
"Any more of this cooking, I might very well be. Oink. Oink." I responded and was rewarded with a small smile, as we settled into an easy quiet, unlike that first week.
Truth be told, I had spent most of my night, establishing myself a little bolt hole in Moscow. I wouldn't get any points for interior decorating, but I dared anything to try to find me now. After finishing breakfast and bidding Natya goodbye, I left the house and proceeded to head there and get ahead on my work. Upon the streets, I lost myself among the crowd and kept my head down, shopping briefly for something as I descended with the crowd into the Moscow Metro.
A few random teleports later, I appeared by the mouth of an abandoned, tunnel as I flicked my wand for light and strode down the way, thankful for the enchantments on my duster as behind me, the sounds and flashing lights of one of the subway trains rocketed past.
The air began to grow warmer despite being underground, as much a product of the pipes in which hot water flowed as well as my own preparations in that regard. I hadn't forgotten about Thatch and I wasn't certain whether or not he'd be able to track me down. But just in case, I hid underground in a place with more iron than most.
And if that wasn't an issue, then he could take up any trouble with my guardian I summoned to safeguard the memories and soon enough, I heard a distinctive hiss. A lethally sinister, almost hateful voice.
"Blood... I smell blood.... Kill.... Kill."
In the same language, I hissed back.
"You'll have to be satisfied with something less wriggling. I couldn't find a place that sold a live pig."
There was a scrape of scales on stone and around the corner, eyes sheathed was my pretty darling, the Basilisk who hissed as she slithered over to greet me. I couldn't help but smile, my hand reaching out to scratch under her chin before flicking my wand.
And the corpse of the pig floated out and teased briefly in the air before she lunged and snapped, closing her jaws around it as she swallowed it whole.
"Good girl." I said, smiling as I strode past her.
A basilisk really did make everything easier. But at the cost of being predictable, and I'd have to change that eventually. A simple rooster for example, would be able to take my friend off of the board entirely and that simply wouldn't do. So, a good portion of my research on the side, would be finding a way to both protect my pet as well as ensure I could still command her.
As it was, I did have a concept in mind, regarding the Muffliato but putting that out of mind, I proceeded to the container I kept the memories in question I took the other night and grimaced.
Four of them had degraded to a point that it'd be useless to look into. As expected, the container in question I sought to keep them and the bottles as well were ordinary; I expect, some degree of arcane crafting was involved in the Pensieve containers so if I wanted to get anything from these, I needed to do so now.
So, I'd start off with one of the thugs' memories as I poured it in and without a thought, dunked my face down as I was launched into the memory.
From this side, it wasn't quite the sight one would expect. The immediate sensations of the man these memories belonged to were clear enough, as I saw a table and some playing cards. The room in question was a nice one, a billiard room such as you'd find in some fancy manor. There was a fireplace, a house elf without features bounced around with a tray over his or her head, and beyond, the doors were barely discernible.
Maybe Dumbledore wouldn't mind if I stole his fancy little birdbath for myself.
.... Now I wondered if Fawkes bathed or if his fire was enough to scour away any dirt and such, before dismissing it as I began to listen. Like tuning a radio volume, the conversation immediately became much more distinct and again, I made a mental note to grab a Pensieve at my closest convenience.
"-Call. Seems like a lot of fuss for one man."
"You always had more balls than brains, Gleb." Grunted a man across, who I vaguely recalled knocking out with the potion mist from the other night. Pushing in a pile of sickles into the pile, he continued on. "We're dealing with a potential Dark Lord, the Ministers pet seer was very clear on that. You were not there for the first one, so you have no idea what we're talking about."
Gleb focused on the man more intently, the memories reflecting that as he spoke hotly. "I was aiding the war effort in the factories, I would have fought if I could!"
On the side, another player spoke up and his face went from blank to suddenly detailed, as the memories painted him-some thin looking figure with glasses that vaguely reminded me of Harry Potter in terms of their thickness as he folded and spoke in a nervous sounding tone.
"Ah... Are we sure we should not inform the Minister then? If this is a genuine dark lord, then bringing in the Aurors sounds like the best idea-."
The man Gleb had been annoyed with interrupted, exhaustion in his voice as he spoke. "We cannot. Mother Russia's magical world has been weakened and we've only just reforged ties with the Soviets. If we go to the Minister, he is bound to go to the First Secretary. What do you think the Nomaj would think, bringing a new crisis to their door? How do you think MACUSA will act, nibbling at our borders hand in hand with the Americans? No, we keep this in-house and quiet."
"Money ain't bad either." Grunted the final man, his face unseen as Gleb ignored him to focus on the pile of coins in the middle of the pile.
The memory began to degrade, their voices fading in and out as I caught nothing more.
I emerged from the memory and sighed out, before moving for the next one, this one from Louhi as I applied it and entered.
Magic was as much the will of the caster as it was intent. Wandless magic was very much a part of that, which required exercise and discipline as a lifetime worth of work. In grabbing memories, my thoughts had been mostly those pertinent to my current struggles, and it was an inexact, crude thing I was doing. For example, if I had focused on memories of 'Dumbledore' then I could have either grabbed a memory in which she had just spoken to him or alternatively, one from years ago where they took tea together.
Thankfully, I had used my own and so I ended up in the following.
The room was large and spacious. One part study, one part eclectic collectors room as Louhi paced back and forth before a large fireplace, her voice distorted one moment before crystal clear the next as she glanced into the fire and the head floating there.
"-The visions continue, strong as ever."
Albus Dumbledore looked at her somberly, his expression grave as he spoke. "You have my full support of course Louhi, but not like this. Tom Riddle is not Voldemort and god willing, he never will be. The man I know is capricious, but he is no dark lord as you seem to believe."
"Is he not?" She turned to face him, accusingly as she continued. "His records speak for itself. The 'coincidental' murders. The loss of various artifacts, his more recent life. He's killed hundreds of people, and everyone knows it, regardless of workable proof. MACUSA itself is keeping him at arm's length, with his little commune in Montana and his followers in your own Britain wait eagerly for his return."
Dumbledore when he spoke, did so in a tired manner, looking every inch his years as he closed his eyes and spoke. "The man I spoke to, was different from the boy I knew. The boy was a frightened thing, taking refuge in cruelty and a position of his superiority. The man I met was far more open, angrier and more willing to take responsibility. I tempted him with a position as a teacher and he immediately refused. The Tom Riddle of before would have not. I have faith in him, and it is my hope that he will become the wizard I would like him to be, by the time his journey is over."
"You've always thought the best of people." Louhi replied, tired in her own way but wistful now as she drew up an armchair and sat down. "But you and I both know that the path to becoming a Dark Lord is more than simply magic. Knowledge can be just as damning and more seductive, especially considering his aims."
"What you believe to be his aims." Dumbledore gently corrected her as he added. "The prophecy could be someone else."
"It could." Louhi said as she added. "Which is why I contacted you my old friend. I require a second opinion."
I focused with more intent interest as Louhi flicked her wand and produced a glowing orb from out of the bounds of her memory. Letting it float between them, she activated it as an image of herself appeared and began to speak, in a guttural, heavily accented voice.
"He Who Flies From Death approaches! A Son who has never known a Mother's love, stretches forth a black hand over the lands of Rus... The Herald of Shattered Fate shall meet him, and a Dancing Hut shall choose its heir. The Path to Winter shall open, and the song of the Hunt shall begin. Let all hear this warning and despair.... He Who Flies From Death approaches..."
I forced myself to listen to the rest of the conversation, noted that there was nothing pertinent and left the memory. Out back in my little safehouse, I felt my jaw clench. Anger surged deep within me and with a snarling yell, I unleashed my magic on the side as the wall didn't shatter and explode so much a disintegrate as I let out my emotions, finally spent as I kicked over my crude pensieve and stormed away.
Though I made an effort to rein in myself, as my Basilisk hissed in worriment and I moved to sit amongst her coils, just laying there as I stared up into the dark. Fucking hell.
Prophecy was always the worst. But that there was as close to spelling it out as you could get, and I felt bitterness on the tip of my tongue, souring my mood further as I tried to calm down. No wonder Louhi had been convinced I was a threat, if I had gotten a prophecy like that, I would have blasted first and ask questions later... Which I supposed was a trait I shared with the original Tom Riddle.
But I was Tom Riddle now, wasn't I? Even after fleeing my fate, it seemed as though things were looping around that would see me try to murder an infant in their own crib. Voldemort... That was a name I had used secretly when still in Hogwarts, then later on when I was forging the Horcruxes. I hadn't used the name since I 'woke' up and the Horcruxes, every one of them I had destroyed personally, but fate wasn't so easily escaped, I think.
It was a horrible thing, to realize that all the work you put into was for naught and for a moment, I thought back to my actions.
The Scourers for one, which seemed more like ten years than the fifteen-odd months it had been. I had struck to kill, perhaps not using much unforgivables but I had no patience and allowed my anger to get the best of me there. The Flesh Market? Collateral damage? How many did I kill there? How many did I initially condemn to death, uncaring so long as I and Nagini lived? The worst part of it all I thought as I laid there, was that I still didn't feel anything but contempt for those lost lives.
They were acceptable targets. They were in my way, and they had made the choices that had led them to me. Because in the end, I had put myself and my goals above their own survival.
And I was ok with that. I started to think a little more clearly, pondering as my fingers gently stroked along the serpent body I was laying on as I produced my wand and began drawing in the air.
Finally, I came to a conclusion.
"In and out. No more delays." If prophecy said I was going to do all that in Russia, then it was simple enough to fix. I'd just grab what I wanted from the Ministry now, and wing it before leaving immediately. No kills, no one knowing I was even here. I would be disciplined and I would hereafter, stay away from Russia. After all, everyone knew that not all the prophecies came true; I was determined that this one would be one of them.
And if in my ears, I could hear the harsh voice of a future Professor Trelawny speaking the words of my doom, I drove it out of mind. I had a Ministry to rob.
