The Last Hunter
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Legacy of Evil: Red Sun Rising
🕑 Added 2024-04-11 01:52:26 +0000 UTCMy head hurt. I was seeing double, and the horseman was about to give me the last tan I'd ever get, if I stayed still. But nor would I be able to outrun a horse, especially not a flying one. So, I did what all wizards do in a situation like this.
I cheated.
I swirled my wand about, creating a cloud of smoke that billowed and expanded and flicked my wand as I produced a cracking, distinct noise before I produced a disillusionment charm and crouched down. Through the smoke, I saw the red flames of the horseman as it galloped past me, close enough that I could touch it through my smoke cloud as it let out a scream of frustration, before vanishing in turn in a way I couldn't quite tell you, not through the smoke. I cursed in my head the missed opportunity and after a minute of waiting, vanished in truth from the area with a true apperation.
God, I had a headache and knowing I was being hunted by bounty hunters and the horseman alike, my list of sanctuaries was thin to nonexistent in Finland. I would have to make my own and with that in mind, I opted to teleport myself multiple times, just to ensure my trail would be thrown off before I found myself in a cavern, in some mountain range by the Russian border.
Besides magical dangers, I'd also have to ensure the mundane soldiers didn't find me either, not as I was now. Within the cave, I started by producing a wall to resemble the mountain in the entrance I slunk into, leaving only a hole for air and light, adding obscuring protection after protection as afterwards, I proceeded to scan my surroundings and then use my wand to make it livable.
No trash, no dirt... A hole in the ceiling for my fire, some hooks for my lamps. A cot, and more. I had learned from my earlier escapades and with my habit of hunting magical beasts, I had learned the value as well of a good field kit. Soon enough, I had the makings of a good camp setup and I put the kettle on for tea, removing my hat as I breathed out and finally, tried to think.
What was that?!
That had been an entirely outside problem and had I not been clever enough to avoid a fight, I might had been in trouble. I was in no mind to fight anyone, not with my head fighting between two sets of memories and even now, my migraine still threatened to put me down. I took out my sleeping bag, hung up my coat and removed my boots and pants as I growled again, my mind trying to fit details together and failing. At the least though, I had a clue as to my attacker as an old story flicked through my head and I murmured aloud.
"Bright Day, Red Sun, Midnight.... My servants and riders."
I smiled grimly.
I had turned my attention to Russia originally, due to several factors. One of which was the prolific history of curses they had here, of witchcraft in the style of the old meaning of the word rather than modern wizardry as we knew it. The Romani knew it well in turn, and from their stories and my own research, both had inspired my hunt to begin here. The other aspect was the name associated with the Riders I had named.
In the original Harry Potter setting, Baba Yaga was a mere hag who devoured children wholesale. Infamous enough to have her own wizarding chocolate frog card, which amused me in a dark way. But she was not a 'witch', merely a hag but insofar as that went, none seemed to really understand what they were or cared. They were magical beings; they were intelligent and possessed rudimentary magic.
And that was it. It was a level of staggering ignorance that shocked me heartily, though I suppose that was yet another Wizarding World prejudice. So long as they didn't rock the boat, they wouldn't care and even then, they would only exist on the margins of Wizarding Society, or places such as the Flesh Market that would welcome their reputations and unique hungers.
The presence of Red Sun was enough to confirm my suspicion that there truly was something more, especially when I remembered the look of it. A Mongol warrior from centuries before... Who knew how old they were? Or what else they were capable of? I for one, would not underestimate them and after ensuring my wand was close to hand, I took the kettle off the fire and set it to the edges-it'll be warm by the time I woke up, as I allowed myself to drift off to sleep.
=====
I woke up by some instinct and was well rewarded for it, as I saw Thatch creeping about quietly amongst my camp. Grimly, I clutched my wand and spoke aloud as I sat up.
"Master elf, be welcome in my camp."
Thatch froze, about to flee when he paused in confusion. Sensing weakness, I pounced upon it as I continued speaking.
"I have with me a little honey, some milk and bread. Pray tell, will you not share them with me?"
He shuddered in place, my intrigue growing as he growled and his fingers twitched, as if ready to whack himself like Dobby before he finally sat down, arms crossed by my fire as he spoke sullenly.
"Master is a very, clever man, da. Knows the old, proper ways."
I got up and began to serve out as I spoke idly. "You're not the first spirit I've spoken to like this. Nor hosted by my fire." As I took out a bowl, filled it with milk and mixed in some honey, I flicked my wand as my knife floated and began slicing my loaf before taking the pieces to toast them.
"Though I must admit, I never expected house elves to fall under the same category. More fool me."
Thatch laughed darkly. His eyes seemed to glow in the dark, as he watched me intently like a serpent himself.
"And where is it, wizard you are to be thinking House Elves coming from?"
"I don't know, but I have my suspicions." I admitted, turning the toast over so as not burn one side overlong as I continued. "I know your kind has existed alongside wizards for centuries. I know of the loyalty you have to the families you serve, and I know also that you've enough power to put many wizards to shame. To say nothing of your methods, bypassing wizarding wards. Beyond that? There is nothing else, most wizards seeing nothing but the surface."
Thatch was quiet now as he stared at me, before he finally spoke. "And what is it, that Master here believes?" His tone for the first time had a touch of curiosity as he looked at me, despite still having that growl as I thought and finally set the bowl before him, alongside two pieces of toast as I took my own and considered.
"... I believe I have yet more to learn, and I also believe that there is a word to describe your kind and the spirits I have met. Capricious in nature, bound by hospitality, bearing strange magics of their own. Reduced perhaps in stature from what they used to be, but still there." I slowly, drunk from my bowl and set it down as I said a name, looking at Thatch for his reaction.
"Faerie."
Thatch was silent. His eyes flicked down to the bowl, before he took it up and drank quietly. After he had drained it, I offered more and he seemed to consider before holding it out, as he spoke again.
"You see more than you should, wizard." His voice was tired now, as he shook his head. "The bad old days must not return. You meddle in things; you do not understand."
"Then perhaps you might share and enlighten me?" I asked before answering my own response. "Wait... You cannot. Your master has forbid it."
Thatch nodded, grudgingly. I considered for a few moments, before finally speaking. "... I sought information on Ba-"
Thatch immediately hissed. "Do NOT speak her name! Stupid wizard! Sees so much, and yet nothing at all!"
Silence came, I admit I was a bit startled by his vitriol and I considered before speaking.
"I sought information on Grandmother, for possible knowledge on curses she might have. I have a friend you see, who suffers from one and I must take any way I can to help her."
Thatch groaned and shook his head. I watched, thoughts running through my own before my eyes flicked to the tattoo on his arm as I realized.
No longer was it a burning sun, but rather a crescent moon. Suspicion grew and I flicked my eyes towards the hole in the wall I had made.
Revealing nothing beyond it but night, as I spoke casually.
"Alright then. You win. I shall visit Moscow instead and seek an alternative route to knowledge."
Thatch looked up, suspiciously at me and went still as I showed no sign of lying, he could detect. Finally, he spoke.
"Swear on your magic, wizard."
My response was immediate. "I swear on my magic, I shall head to Moscow and discover the answers to my current problem there, away from your charge."
There was a sharp sense of something as I said the oath, and it seemed to satisfy Thatch as he rose up. The toast eaten, the bowl drunk as he bowed his head and spoke, in words rusty but having the sense of ritual to it.
"I have enjoyed your hearth and broken bread. May your road be safe and swift."
"You as well, Master Elf." I said and he vanished with a snap of his fingers. I breathed out slowly, relaxing finally as I pressed my fingers together and thought.
Thatch had been the one to send Red Sun at me. He had said it himself, 'there was no harm in a message.' If he had done so, it also stood to reason he might be capable of calling the other two riders in turn-a theory backed up, by his changing tattoo.
Besides being powerful magic all on its own, it did beg the question.
If not Baba Yaga, who was it who commanded the Riders? Who gave the ability to call them to a house elf? Who informed the elf of me, and gave instructions to keep me out?
Someone was playing games here, and despite myself I found a smile growing on my face at the thought.
I did say however and swear that I would head to Moscow though. So, to Moscow I would go. After I had learned who might be pulling the strings, I would go back to my main quest of seeking Baba Yaga. After all, I had told him I would be discovering the answers to my current problem... Not that I would leave it alone entirely.
And like that, I would finish my snack and go back to sleep. For now? There would be no danger. Later was another story, but that was a problem for future Tom Riddle.
=====
"Have you heard, there's a rumor in Saint Petersburg... Have you heard, what they're saying on the streets?"
A few days of rest to settle my mind, followed by a mixture of apparition and hiking, and I finally found myself in Moscow. With the song on my lips, I took in my surroundings with enjoyment despite the self-imposed mission I had set myself upon. For all that the failed Soviet Union had inflicted and continued to inflict upon its own, the Russian people itself were worthy of all the praise I could muster, like the other cultures I had met upon my journey.
Their architecture was stunning, gorgeous pieces of history to behold as I found myself playing tourist. From the Moskva river that ran through, to Saint Basil's Cathedral, distractions a-plenty would find itself present for my mind, but even despite that, I saw the other side of life here.
Poverty. Hunger. I saw old kommunalki buildings and the way they packed themselves, like sardines into a can. I saw children on the street, making do with whatever they had for toys as an ordinary tin can became a ball, a mock gun when combined with a stick or whatever else they envisioned. I saw fear, people extremely cautious to keep their heads down, to wait out whatever storm still blew above their heads.
It was a bitter reminder of the separations of our worlds, and I found myself once more wondering why shouldn't we reach out? A simple expansion spell would do wonders for housing, and surely our own Healers could only benefit by medical knowledge the Nomaj were capable of or would become capable of? Sickness was another thing almost omnipresent here, and it was utterly depressing as I slunk in the slums of Moscow, finding cheap lodging for my purpose here.
That said, there was too much bad blood between Wizards and... Well, just about everything else really now I thought about it. From goblins to centaurs, to even their own kind; something we shared just as much in common with our mundane counterparts.
Nothing was as good as hatred, as a human and I found myself smiling grimly, thinking about an image in the sky, of a serpent emerging from the jaw of a skull, or a red flag with a black swastika that had been corrupted utterly by the pathetic man and his followers who had taken it up.
In my head, I heard a voice, my voice hiss aloud as it whispered words that were mine, yet not mine.
'There is no good or evil. There is only power and those too weak to claim it.'
I could do it. I could apply myself to it in earnest, travel the world, kill people who I knew would someday become murderers. It wouldn't even be hard; the wizarding world was astonishingly corrupt and lazy in that manner. I had blood on my hands already, so it was not a question of whether or not I could or should. Just my own, innate desire.
I sighed aloud. The road to Hell they say was paved with good intentions. I knew I had to do something, but it wouldn't be enough to create a movement- Christ did the same, and while it did much good, there was also much evil, and I was nowhere near as wise or saintly as he was. How much worse could my own ideology be, if I applied myself to it for future generations?
I didn't know, and I paused, my feet slowing as I stared at a building before me. It was getting dark, I needed lodging and I did not wish to be a Romani looking person outside after dark. I knocked on the door and after a few moments, a tired looking face peeked out. I bowed my head, drawing upon the memories I had gleaned along with my knowledge of Russian as I spoke aloud.
"Is this the home of Natya? Natya Morosov?"
She nodded warily, the door still closed against me. "I am Natya. Who are you?"
"My name is Anton." I replied as I added. "I am a friend of Dimitri Morosov. I have news." She turned pale and a few moments later, nodded once as she opened the door and let me inside.
I was reminded of the Burrow, or the depictions of it as my eyes flicked around to the surroundings I found myself in. A wizarding home certainly, but not one particularly rich. Around me were the trappings of careful poverty, the sort of calculation that comes when you're not sure where your next meal would be coming from. From the dress she had been sewing out of curtains, to the cabbage soup that bubbled on the stove, everything had its place, space was a luxury and nothing went to waste.
She headed for the cupboard, took out wooden bowls and spoons as she began serving food. I watched as her hands trembled, as she swallowed hard and finally set them down before me.
Dimitri Morosov was a bounty hunter, moderately successful. No wife, no children... Just a sister, who worked for the Russian Ministry of Magic as part of housekeeping. A job demeaning for any witch or wizard, as it was on par with house elves. There was a strength in her however, and I admit, despite the plainness she kept herself as well as the toll life here brought on her, I found it added more to her rather than detracted and was briefly intrigued.
Natya sat down, breathed slowly out and spoke. "... He is dead then?"
I nodded, empathy splayed on my face that I couldn't quite feel in my heart... But Tom Riddle had always been a charming liar and I made it work for me, as I spoke gently.
"Killed in a hunt. His quarry was quicker." I reached into my coat, brought out a bag of galleons I always kept on me as I counted out a hundred and set them down. Five months wages, ordinarily as I looked at her and spoke.
"His savings. He would have wanted you to have them."
She stared at them... Something passed through her eyes, something bitter as she breathed deeply and spoke. "I... I thank you, Anton. Forgive me, I.... The news is shocking."
"What will you do?" I asked and she laughed, not bothering to hide her sourness now.
"What else can we do? We move on, we keep surviving. It's all we can do." I nodded, then suddenly spoke. "Natya, if I may?" She looked at me and I continued.
"Dimitri and I were friends, not particularly close but he was a good comrade. Might I stay for a month here, and work for my place? I am willing to pay rent of course and to contribute to household funds. Just till I'm sure you'll be fine, for his sake."
She stared at me, at my face before she finally nodded. "If you do these things, then very well. There is no other bed-you'll have to take the couch. We both clean, and no loud noises."
I nod and reach out a hand to shake and as she takes it back, I realize she has a strong grip to her and I nod.
"Deal."
=====
I am a bad, bad man I think to myself long after the lights are out and I'm lying on her couch.
I had taken the memories of the dead man, mostly faded but enough to get by with faking knowing him. Using them, I had inserted myself into his sisters life, took advantage of her vulnerability and positioned myself within Moscow for the sole, single chance her presence gave me.
The presence of Red Sun, the fear of Baba Yaga and more told me things were different from canon as I knew it. Information about her would undoubtedly be censored, burned or worse-especially considering the governments prior stance on Wizards and their ilk. If there were any surviving records on Baba Yaga and what she entailed or where she'd be? It would be in a place hidden, dark and deep. A place heavily protected by the best Russian wizards were capable of.
I was going to have to break into the Russian Ministry of Magic records.
.... This was going to do wonders for my international bounty.
