If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @
[ https://www.patreón.com/fictiononlyreader ]
The link is also in the synopsis.
.
-*-*-*-*-*-
.
"Hey," Ivy whispered softly, "how're you feeling now?" She held Quinn in her arms, sitting in his lap. The heavy breathing had settled down, and Quinn was not clutching her as tightly as he was before.
Quinn leaned away from Ivy but didn't let her go. His face looked like a mess with tear stains, but the heaviness had lifted away, and now he seemed much more like himself than before. "Yes, I'm fine now, thank you. . . . I apologize for my unsightly behavior," he said. "I don't know why that suddenly came over me. . ."
"No. . . no need to apologize," Ivy said. She felt that Quinn breaking down had done good. She feared that if Quinn had continued to hold it in without an outlet, it would've snowballed into much bigger concerns down the line.
"It was guilt," he suddenly said.
"What?"
"Why I didn't tell you about the Horcruxes," he said with a tired voice. "I knew if I told you about the Horcruxes, I would've needed to tell you about Harry. If it was before, I wouldn't have pressured Dumbledore into revealing Harry's identity and simply let Dumbledore do whatever he was doing— the reason why I revealed it was because of guilt of hiding a lot more, much more. Somewhere in my mind, I felt that if your family learned about Harry, it would ease my conscience somehow. . . it didn't. I felt great when I left the Headmaster's Office, but by the time I was out o the castle, I was back in the pangs of anxiety. When Dumbledore threatened to reveal my secret, and I had to tell you myself before he could, I felt like hurling my stomach out at the thought of things going to the worst-case scenario."
"The worst-case scenario?"
"You breaking up with me, of course," Quinn said tiredly. "I jeopardized a lot doing this; I'm already at odds with my family, my social life has reduced to nothing, and if you left me, it would be all for nothing."
"It wouldn't be for nothing. . . You-Know-Who will be vanquished."
"We don't know that for sure. As I told you before, killing him is the hardest part of the problem."
"Don't be like that. If the other side is You-Know-Who, then we have Dumbledore. The Headmaster can stand against him. . . and Dumbledore has the Elder wand, the most powerful wand in existence, which gives him a clear advantage."
Quinn's brows raised as a surprise passed over his expressions; he sat up straighter in the chair. "You found about the wand?" he asked.
"I found about the Deathly Hallows." It was the last time they had met that he had given her some cryptic information about what he was doing. Fueled by the anger, she had dug into it on her own, and after much researching, she wasn't able to find a single reference of the symbol anywhere in the Hogwarts library. Just when she had started to think that Hogwarts was a dead-end, she stumbled upon it from an unlikely source. "I had almost given up when Luna happened. . ."
"Luna?"
"I was in the library when she found me and saw the Deathly Hallow symbol I had drawn. She knew what it was. The Tale of the Three Brothers by Beedle the Bard. . . it turns out that her father had shown the symbol to her while telling her the story. The three Deathly Hallows— the Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, and the Invisibility Cloak. . . do you really think they were crafted by Death?"
"No, even with the existence of magic, I don't believe laws of nature having living personifications. I think they were made by the three brothers, who I don't know if you know. . ."
"They're my ancestors. I found Ignotus Peverell in the Potter family," she sighed. "I can't believe my Invisibility Cloak is the Invisibility Cloak from the story. . . I still can't believe it."
"The signs of it being something special have always been present. That cloak has been passed down in the Potter family for generations and before without ever needing any work on the strengthening of the charms. . . it's clear that the cloak is special."
Ivy had to agree to the point. She guessed no one ever paid any attention to the fact because the cloak had been in the family for so long that its existence had become normalized. "I can't believe you have the Ressurection Stone," she said. "Does. . . Does it really work, you know, can it summon the dead?"
Quinn nodded.
"Have you used it?"
"For summoning souls— no. I have been using it for other purposes."
"And what are they? You didn't tell me last time. I found about the Hallows now; can you tell me now?" Ivy found herself the target of scrutiny in Quinn's eyes the moment the question left her. The stone-grey eyes studied her for a moment.
"I'm trying to figure out how to get the Horcrux out of Harry's head. Even though a fragment, a Horcrux is still a soul, and because the Resurrection Stone is a soul artifact, I believe it can be the key to free Harry from the Horcrux." He sighed, "It's not going well."
"Don't push yourself," Ivy caressed Quinn's face, which was paler than usual.
Quinn gently grasped Ivy's hand and leaned into it. "I didn't have any hope today, you know. I had been avoiding you since the last meeting because I thought if we meet, you will dump me. . ."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Not gonna lie, I'm judging you a little bit," he said and got a light smack in return. Quinn stared at her as he softly said, "You're too good for me, you know. . ."
Ivy sensed his eyes going to her lips, and even she found herself doing the same. They moved at the same time, and in a moment, they were kissing. It was stronger than what she was expecting, but at the same time, she was surprised at her own reaction— since the last time they had met, she hadn't once imagined it going like this once.
She felt his hand go under her sweater. She raised her arms up, and Quinn removed it, and yet she felt herself getting hotter. She reciprocated and got rid of his suit jacket; one by one, the clothes began to come off, but before they could move ahead from making out, there was a loud slam.
Ivy jumped and turned to the noise, feeling a mix of shock and irritation. But all of that drained away when she realized where the sound came from. The loud slam was from the door of the room swinging to slam into the wall, but that wasn't what had shocked her— it was who had slammed the door open. It was her twin brother in his natural appearance (without the disguise they had put on) along with Hermione and Ron, who were still in disguise. She watched as they, for a split-second, their eyes widened, but before she could even blink, three red spells shot toward them faster than an arrow from behind her, making their eyes turn upwards, and they crumpled down where they stood.
Ivy turned back to Quinn, who shrugged. "I'm testy these days," he said. "They're lucky you were here, or else they would've been hit with something much worse than a stunner."
"Wake them up, please," she said, contacting up from his lap before adding, "let me get dressed first."
As she got dressed, Quinn dressed himself, all the while grumbled about locking the door— much faster than her, using magic— and then levitated Harry, Ron, and Hermione and dumped them into the chairs in the room. She gave him a nod, and Quinn snapped his fingers. The unconscious three snapped open their eyes and immediately jumped up from their chair. Beside her, Quinn waved his hand, and all of them were knocked back into their chairs. She gave him a look.
"Ivy!" "Are you alright?!" "Wha—"
"Calm down," she said. "What are you three think you're doing?! Didn't I tell you to go, and I'll catch up to you."
"You mean you'll catch up after shagging him!" Harry shouted scathingly.
"I don't like the sound of that," commented Quinn, leaning against the wall just beside the door. "Makes me sound dirty."
"I can do whatever I want," Ivy said, arms crossed. "You barging in here was extremely rude. You shouldn't have done that." It didn't feel great to have her twin brother barge upon her when she and her boyfriend were in a state of undress, not to mention her best friend and a boy who she saw as a brother.
"I'm also curious, how did you get in here? Ernie should've stopped you," Quinn asked Harry, but then he narrowed his eyes. "Don't tell me you showed him your face, and he let you." Hermione and Ron's expressions answered for Harry. Quinn sighed, "He's getting old; I'll have to have a talk with his son."
"You shouldn't have removed your disguise," said Ivy. "There's a reason why we used them; what if someone saw you."
"Let's not turn this about me," said Harry. He pointed to Quinn with his whole hand and spoke, "Just a while back, you were telling me how much you hated him— and now you're doing this! What the hell?!"
Ivy resisted the urge to look at Quinn. She had said some nasty words before today in anger and frustration, mostly in front of Hermione, but there were times she had sprung out in front of Harry and Ron. "What do you want, Harry?" she asked. "You barged in here; now what?"
"Are you serious? I was worried about you! I didn't know what will he do to you!?"
"Oh. . . and here I remember a time when you were willing to have your flesh cut by Umbridge on my word," said Quinn, pumping his brows. "Where did all that trust go?"
Harry ignored Quinn and continued to speak to Ivy. "You know, he's dating Greengrass, right?! What the hell are you doing?"
Ivy could feel Quinn's eyes boring into her from behind. She had told Harry about Quinn being the Invisible Vigilante and about the other Horcrux that he had destroyed, along with other things Quinn had told her, but she had left her relationship with him out of the things she had told Harry. In the room, only Hermione knew about their dating.
'Well, not anymore,' she thought. "We are dating," she said.
" "What?!" " Harry and Ron shouted in unison.
"Happily," said Quinn. Ivy gave him a glare asking him to stop. He wasn't being helpful here.
"When did he break up with Daphne?" asked Harry, still reeling from the shock. "When did you two start. . . when did all this happen?!"
"He didn't break up with Daphne," Ivy sighed as she saw Harry and Ron's expressions cycle through a very wide range. "He's dating me, and he's dating Daphne. As for when. . . same day as Professor Snape's funeral."
There was utter silence in the room. Ron was staring at Quinn, shocked with a hint of administration in his eyes. Harry, on the other hand, was moving his eyes between Ivy and Quinn— he opened his mouth to speak but couldn't get any words out— for a moment, he resembled Ron by quite a bit.
Ivy gave Hermione and 'telepathically' had a conversation with her best friend. She pleaded with Hermione to take over, and after some back and forth, Hermione agreed.
"Alright, boys, let's get out of here," said Hermione. "Let's go back to the castle, and I'll tell you all about it."
"You knew?!" Harry exclaimed for the n-th time.
"Yes, I knew, of course, I knew. I'm her best friend. Now, let's go," said Hermione, and amidst protest, she dragged them both out, closing the door behind, leaving Quinn and Ivy alone.
"I think I should leave," said Ivy, after a moment of silence. "Harry would irritate Hermione if I don't get there soon."
Quinn nodded. "I should also leave. . . can't be seen out and then stay for long. . . the news will get to grandfather." He took Ivy's coat from the hanger and helped it on her.
"Quinn. . . " Ivy turned to face Quinn and found him close enough to feel his breath. His hand went up to her cheek as he kissed her. It was deep, and Ivy savoured it because she knew that it was going to be the last one for a while.
The kiss ended, and Quinn began to back away towards the door. "I don't know when any of this will end, but I'm going to well damn make sure that when things settle, they tip on my side." There was a steel in his eyes that, to Ivy, was a little scary and reminded her that she was looking at the Invisible Vigilante, but at the same time, that same looked so reliable that all she could do was nod. "Be safe, Ivy, be safe," said Quinn before disappearing.
.
-*-*-*-*-*-
.
Quinn West - MC - I'm going to take a long shower.
Ivy Potter - Rollercoaster - Okay, I don't have to have this talk, but let's have it.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - Hostel Mess food ain't that great. . .
.
-*-*-*-*-*-
.
If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the synopsis!
Just like always,
Review, comment, add to the library, and share this fic.
Thx
If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @
[ https://www.patreón.com/fictiononlyreader ]
The link is also in the synopsis.
.
-*-*-*-*-*-
.
One Canada Square, the fifty-story tall high-rise skyscraper with its iconic pyramid-shaped top, stood tall in the middle of Canary Wharf, London, glittering in the London night skyline.
On a vacated floor in the forties that once served as an office, Quinn overlooked the active civilization that ran along in its fast-paced city life with no time to stop in fear of falling behind. He sat on a leather chair with a glass of steaming slow-cooked salted caramel hot chocolate in his hand. His eyes followed the traffic of cars on the road and the group of office workers that shuffled out of their respective office buildings to return home— he extended his Legilimency senses but shook his head to himself when his range grossly fell short in reaching even five floors below much less people on the ground.
As Quinn wondered how to extend his reach, he heard the door creak open, and a chorus of footsteps entered the room with a chatter that echoed on the empty floor.
"Welcome, gentlemen," said Quinn; his eyes remained on a solitary man who looked to be a delivery man entering the nearby office complex. 'Maybe I should also order in today,' he wondered.
"Did we have to meet here?" asked a gruff voice as the footsteps came to a stop.
"Do you have a problem with the location? No one knows that we are meeting here. It's empty, isolated enough, and with guards who can be turned away with a snap of our fingers. Isn't it a perfect meet-up place?" Quinn swiveled in his chair to come face-to-face with nine grown men, all dressed up in clothing perfect for blending in the non-magical part of the country. "It was either this or inside a dark forest somewhere. I'm sure all of you fine people prefer this to a forest at night."
He snapped his finger, and nine comfy leather recliners appeared in a broad U-shape around Quinn's own chair. He motioned them to sit down, which they did, taking a seat each, with the man who had spoken before sitting in front of him. The man was dressed in leather and seemed to have more hair coming out of his head, beard, chest, and arms than a brown bear's.
"So, what do you have for me, Mason?" asked Quinn.
The nine men were hired by Quinn to follow people. They were a for-hire group that worked in the field of intelligence. After accepting a brief, they executed and got as much information as they could and presented it to the client. It was a secret society of people that Quinn had found in his years of exploring the country during summer breaks, and things had taken a spike when he had run away— his time had been spent in darker, seeder, hidden gaps where people of many skills resided.
"We did what you asked for," said Mason, rubbing his forehead. "Tailing and documenting the daily schedules of nine high-ranking Ministry employees. . . "
"Any problems?"
"No. . . no problems. It's just that this was a big job."
"Which I paid for. You already have your sixty percent as you quoted. Give me the information today, you receive another twenty percent, and when my job is done next week. . . and you keep me updated till that day." He had paid a good chunk of change— golden change— to finance the job.
"Yes, I know that."
Quinn snapped his fingers and clapped his hand. "Then, let's get started," he said. "Let's get started with. . . Head of Office of Misinformation. What is Mrs. Wambsgans doing these days?"
All eyes turned to the person third from the right, and Quinn followed them to face the lean coat-hanger of a man who seemed as though he hadn't eaten in days.
"Err, yes. . . Fiona Wambsgans is a woman who doesn't know how to have fun. She gets up every morning at six, tends her gardens for half an hour, freshens up, and is out of her house by quarter past seven. She takes her office by quarter to eight and is at work till five in the evening. She is home by quarter to six and then doesn't leave until the next morning, where the cycle continues."
"She travels how? Apparation or floo?" asked Quinn.
"Floo directly to her office and the back."
"If that is so, then how do you account for the gap in time in the morning and evening. She leaves at seven-fifteen and assumes her office thirty minutes later; what happens in those thirty later? In the evening, there's a forty-five-minute gap between office and home; what's there?"
The man took out a little tan notepad from his long jacket and flipped through the pages. "There's a night shift in the Office of Misinformation that she directly meets for what has happened since she had left— that covers the time in the morning. As for in the evening. . . she goes to this little cafe where she has tea, the same order every day, and then goes home from there."
'And there it is,' Quinn tapped the leather with his right index finger. He asked, "Any other irregularities in her behavior? Anything at all? Does she have a friend group that she visits— or maybe even an occasional dinner with guests— or if she meets with someone at the cafe. . . anything of that sort?"
"In the time I've been following her, she has had dinner with others twice. Both of them happened in one of those high-end Ministry restaurants. She doesn't meet people outside of working hours."
"A bit strange for a high-ranking Ministry official, but if that's what her behavior says, then she's unique," said Quinn. He had already guessed where she was going to get attacked; it didn't matter if she was outside now. "Alright, moving on, what's the deal with the International Magical Trading Standards Body's chief. Who was on that?"
The one who spoke next among the nine men was the most average-looking man Quinn had ever seen. This was a man whom one could look at and then forget the next second. It was quite frightening.
"Colton Hirsch is, I would like to say, is completely opposite of Wambsgans. He's in the office for four to five hours, but other than that, he's always out meeting someone at salons, bars, restaurants, private clubs— I can confirm with absolute confidence that the man is a functioning alcoholic. In the days, I have tailed him, there hasn't been a day since he hasn't been drunk."
Quinn pursed his lips. This was different from the previous one with various variable factors, which didn't bode well for him. "What are his go-to places?" he asked.
The man took out a sheet and passed it on to Quinn. There was a list with various establishments' names on it. "There's no set pattern of how he chooses where he goes, but he makes sure that he doesn't repeat one place in a week."
"What about reservations?"
"He visits the places so much and spends so much gold that they give him a room, table, appointment whenever he comes."
"In other words, he's a regular," Quinn sighed. "Can you get me his schedule for the next week? His secretary must have a schedule on which we can get our hands?"
Mr. Average glanced at Mason, who spoke after a few seconds of silence. "We can get that for you; it might take a couple of days."
"Not more than three," said Quinn. If he could get the schedule, he could try to find the weakest point in the day. He didn't have the time to keep a constant eye on the target because of the work burden on the day, meaning that he needed to ensure that he had the exact time and location so he could prepare.
"Let's continue; who would like to go next?" asked Quinn.
One by one, the men continued to feed Quinn with information on the targets he had specified, which he got from Lucius Malfoy. There were some which he found easy, while there were others which he found to be increasingly harder than the previous. He posed questions, in return, got answers— for those which he didn't get one, he asked the team to get the answers.
Quinn stood up, and his drinking glass and chair disappeared into thin air. "Today was a great day, gentlemen. I'm quite satisfied with your work, and if you get me what I asked of you today, I'll be elated as well," smiled Quinn. "Now, let's get to the part everyone has been waiting for." Quinn took out a small briefcase from his bag and put it on the floor. He opened it and continued, "This is the twenty-percent cut that I promised you; anyone of you gentlemen can go inside and confirm an amount."
Mason nodded to one of his companions, who went inside, and after a minute, the man came out. "It's the correct amount."
"Great," said Quinn. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to leave." Saying that, Quinn headed toward one of the floor's exits.
"Who are you?" came Mason's voice.
Quinn turned and looked at Mason in surprise. "I'll be honest, Mason, I wasn't expecting you to ask me that. I'm your client, not a target. Or did someone hire you to investigate me?"
"I prefer to know who I'm doing business with," said the spy. "But we haven't been able to find out who you are, not a single fact. . . it's like you're a ghost. In usual circumstances, we wouldn't even take a job without a proper background check—"
"But you did because of the money," smiled Quinn. It wasn't strange they hadn't found anything on him. "You don't need to know who I am, Mason. You can treat me as a ghost if that's what you'd prefer."
Mason sighed. He took out a smoking pipe and twisted a bronze ring on it that lit a fire inside. He took a puff before saying, "I would've preferred what I was getting into, John. I have been hearing chatter about the very people you asked us to investigate. I don't know what this is all about. . . yet, but I'd like to. . . know."
Quinn laughed, "Don't we all. But be careful; knowing can be a curse." He turned away and walked off, humming a tune that seemed a little sad.
.
-*-*-*-*-*-
.
Quinn West - John - I need to prepare; it's going to be a busy week
Mason - Intelligence Seller - Can feel it on his skin. . . something big is coming.
.
-*-*-*-*-*-
.
If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the synopsis!
Just like always,
Review, comment, add to the library, and share this fic.
Thx
Vous aimerez peut-être aussi
Commentaire de paragraphe
La fonction de commentaire de paragraphe est maintenant disponible sur le Web ! Déplacez la souris sur n’importe quel paragraphe et cliquez sur l’icône pour ajouter votre commentaire.
De plus, vous pouvez toujours l’activer/désactiver dans les paramètres.
OK