[Spitfire : Chapter Eighty-Six]



2 January, 1998

     Faking his own death was harder than he initially thought. When he had his breakdown with Wendy, everything made sense--he'd just die, fake-die, and disappear for a while. Wendy would be with him, he'd be okay. But as he grew more and more sober, and more conscious of the issue at hand, he realized, perhaps it just wasn't that . . . easy. Eventually, as they still figured out the steps of disappearing from the face of the Earth, Isaac had to go back to the Dark Lord before he was suspected of any heresy. But somehow, the missions seemed easier than ever knowing that his life wasn't destined to be under the Dark Lord's control forever

    On Christmas day of 1997, Wendy surprised him with the fact that her plan was complete. And by the next month, they'd be gone.

    "There will be a fake Order meeting," she told him, "consisting of me, Remus, Sirius, Shacklebolt, and McGonagall. You, as a spy in our household, will overhear the 'information' and tell the Dark Lord where we'll be, and when. There, we will be ready with a force of over fifty people. There'll be a spectacle, we'll die. Then, using a portkey I've manufactored, we will go to the area where I've left us supplies"

    "How did you get so many people?" He asked, why would so many people want to help them?

    "I've got people from the Ministry, those who are still loyal to me," Wendy informed, "an old colleuge of mine, Berkeley, will get us a corpse from the morgue. We're going to transfigure him to look like you. For me, on the other hand, I'll be blown to pieces."

    "Lovely," Uttered Isaac, "anything else?"

    "Pack lightly," Wendy said, looking toward the frost-covered window. "I have a feeling this war isn't going to last much longer."

    "Why do you say that?" Isaac asked, drawing his knees to his chest.

    "There's silence," she said, standing up to look out the window. "There's never silence in a war unless one side doesn't know what the other is doing. And when that happens, someone is beaten down badly."

    "Just hope it's our side who wins the fight," Isaac muttered, sighing deeply.

    Wendy nodded slowly, as if in deep thought. "Better now than ever to get you out of there, eh?" She broke out of her thoughts, planting a smile on her face. "Now enough of this dark-shite, it's Christmas! Eat some of the bloody cookies I made you and tell me you like them!"

    Isaac didn't like the cookies, not one bit. They even made his tongue itchy, a gift he received from chocolates ever since he was a child. But he ate every one as Wendy offered them, glad that on Christmas, he was actually eating something other than the remnants of what his family left him.

ツ

      The actual mission took place the next month, on the second of January, 1998. The day was spent in anguish, worrying that the Dark Lord would suspect his defiance. However, thanks to Mad Eye, Isaac learnt to keep his mind locked from visitors the summer before. The only way Voldemort could confirm anything was through other means than just searching through his head like a catalogue. At the moment, he was reclining on the lawn chair in the backyard of the Malfoy Manor. It was Slytherin-green, and faced a swimming pool that had magicked waves, and lily-pads floating through it. There was a cat curled by his feet, definitely a stray.

    The Dark Lord issued a kill order for anything and everything not passed by him on his headquarter grounds. Thankfully, no one knew Isaac was there, as it was an hour past when he was allowed to return home.

    There was a slide of a door, and Isaac quickly mumbled a hex under his breath, "Assem!" The orange cat by his feet shrunk, configuring into a coin. Behind him, a familiar boy with paper-white hair came strolling toward him.

    "Deehan," Draco acknowledged, "My father wishes to know why you're still here."

     Isaac's heart rate rose fast, but he stayed as nonchalant as his body allowed him. "Enjoying the sun, why? Is there a problem?"

    Draco released an annoyed exhale, "No problem, just curious."
 
    Isaac nodded, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Despite his expression of the conversation being over, Draco still stood there. The black-haired boy opened an eye, squinting it at the younger boy. "Yes?"

    "You don't seem right to me," Draco bluntly stated, "there's something about you . . . you were friends with the Weasleys, and the blue-haired freak, yes?"

    "Once," he lilted, "and this is important because . . ."

    "Because I think you're still in contact with them," he stated, "you disappear for long periods of times . . . and that mission last week, the one that was ambushed by the werewolf and his pregnant lady, hardly anyone knew about it other than my dad, the Dark Lord, my aunt Bella, her husband, and you."

     "Then how did you know of it?" Isaac asked, his fingers turning white as he nervously clenched his fists.

     Draco acknowledged that, standing up straighter with increasing confidence. "My father trusts me with the information the Dark Lord shares with him. What I want to know, however, is how those two traitors were able to get the exact time and location of our mission."

     "Not your mission, as you weren't a part of it," Isaac reminded, then he shrugged. "And I haven't an idea, bad luck, I suppose."

    "Hmph," Draco said, unsurely agreeing. "If we come across any of your old associates, what will you do?"

     "Pardon?"

    "Will you hurt them?" Draco asked, pressuring the boy. "That blue-haired girl . . . Cassie. Will you be able to take her down, and serve her to the Dark Lord? Would you be able to kill her?" Isaac was stunned into silence, his mouth falling dry. For a moment, the flowing pool water almost seemed appealing. "I knew it, you're not committed!" Isaac's heart paddered unchecked as he stood out of the lawnchair, and grabbed the shorter boy by his collar. Draco tried stepping back, but Isaac grabbed onto the collar tighter--nearly tight enough to cut off the boy's airway. The white-haired boy searched for his wand, but Isaac used his other hand to grab his flailing wrist. "I-I'll tell the Dark Lord," Draco said, panicked. 'I'll tell him what you're doing to me! I'll tell him you're a traitor!"

     "Tell me, Draco," Isaac began, breathing roughly through his nose. "Tell me what happened on the first of August, 1997."

      "Potter went into hiding, of course." Draco scoffed, relaxing a bit as Isaac loosened his grip on his collar.

     "Why?" There was no response. "I'll tell you why. A wedding was ambushed. A wedding he was a guest of was attacked by the Dark Lord, and his soldiers. Four people died, including a child."

     "What about it?" Draco asked, his teeth gritted and arms growing tired as Isaac failed to budge.

     Isaac ignored his question, "It was a Weasley wedding. The oldest, Bill, was marrying Fleur Delacour--remember her? Veela-champion in the Triwizard Tournament? Yes, a beautiful couple. One of the best ceremonies I've been to. The masquee was decorated in flowers from all the colors of a sunset. The bride, beautiful, she was, in her pearly-white gown. And Cassie, a bridesmaid, is absolutely gorgeous." Isaac released Draco's collar, "Do you want to know my favorite part?"

    "N--"

     Isaac tilted his head, giving him a warning smile. "Sorry, what was that?"

      "What was your favorite part, Isaac?" Draco asked, absolutely humiliated.

      "Well I'm glad you asked," Isaac felt terrible, he hadn't used this facade since his days at Hogwarts with Thorfinn. "My favorite part had to be when the masquee was set alight. When the flames got so dark they matched the blood splattered on the floor. My favorite part was my 'friends' seeing if I'm alright, as I celebrated the fact I'd successfully served the Dark Lord, once again. Giving him information vital to our cause."

     "Y-You're the one who leaked the information?"

        "Indeed," Isaac's smile fell, he took a step forward. Draco was backed into the wall, panicked. "Dare accuse me of betraying the Dark Lord again, and I'll have your body hanging from the Astronomy Tower, Malfoy." Draco's nostrils flared, but he stayed silent. He even gave a little nod, confirming that Isaac's point had gone through, "Great," Isaac huffed. "Now, go on. And leave that coin you stole, you little thief."

     Draco huffed and stomped away, throwing the small coin bback onto the lawn chair where he stole it. Before Draco could go through the glass doorway, he was stopped as Rodolphus Lestrange appeared ahead of him. The man, short in stature but wide with muscle, spoke in a low and gravelly tone. "Deehan," he grunted, "your information checks out, come, we will be leaving soon."

     Isaac's heart leapt, and he nodded. Draco sniffed, "Does the Dark Lord require my assistance as well, uncle?"

     Rodolphus let out a crackly laugh, sounding as if someone was playing ping-pong in his lungs. "Not yet, young one. You focus on training, your battle will come soon."

     As Isaac picked up his coin, placing it in his pocket, he gave Draco a wink. "Go and play-fight with your mannequins, Malfoy. Maybe you'll be able to throw a punch by your next birthday."

    Draco will surely gloat in Isaac's supposed-death once this mission is over. Isaac was glad, he never wanted to face that poor boy again.

ツ

    They apparated into a field. Beside it was a lonely house, once belonging to Albus Dumbledore, made of brick and cobble with a smoking chimney. While the Order planned on retrieving an old possession of Dumbledores, the Dark Lord and his acolytes planned on killing them before they could reach the home. There were six of them, the Dark Lord, four of his best fighters, and Isaac. Isaac was good in a fight, but Voldemort always brought his informants to missions in case they went wrong. With the assumption he'd win any battle faced against him, he'd finish the mission by torturing, and killing the traitorous informant.

    Isaac planned on death before any of that could happen.

    "Masks," Voldemort ordered, his voice trailing along like a snake's long hiss. One by one, the death eaters put on their golden, straight-faced masks that hid their identities from the world. "Bella and Rodolphus, you two scout the house. Lucius and Gabriel, walk the field. If anyone arrives, set the flare. Deehan, you stay by my side."

    They all chimed in agreement, "Yes, my Lord."

    Moments later, Isaac was left alone with the devil incarnate. 'You say they're retireiving a journal." Voldemort said, walking along the grass with bare feet.

    "Yes, it is believed to have locations--to where, I don't know. But they're sending their best people for it so I assumed it was important." Was he rambling?

    "This journal was written by the Headmaster himself?"

    "Yes, m'Lord." They continued walking, Isaac hadn't an idea as to where he was going. And he was growing nervous as they moved further and further from the home that was centered in the middle of the field, surrounded by knee-high grass and flowers that illuminated in the darkness. "M'L-Lord," He stuttered, shite. "May I have permission to ask a question, please?" The taller man was silent, therefore granting allowance to Isaac's inquiry. "Where are we going?"

    "We are leaving the no-apparition zone," the man answered, "the Headmaster's home is surrounded by hexes and jinxes to prevent apparation onto his property. Therefore, his possy should be arriving somewhere in this area. It is the only area on this island free of any magic."

    Well, this wasn't a part of the plan. "What about the spot we arrived at?"

    Voldemort turned to look at him, his snake-like eyes staring deep into Isaac's soul. "I'm merely too powerful for Albus' petty preschool magic."

    Detecting hostility, Isaac nodded, and stayed silent. Moments later, as he and the Dark Lord stood in the trees, there was a series of cracks. Multiple ones, indicating more people than Isaac had told the Dark Lord about. However, the Dark Lord didn't move to punish him. Instead, he stood silent and still in the darkness provided by the trees.

    "This is the place?" Someone said, a new voice. Isaac couldn't recognize them.

    "Yep, apparently," said another person, "doesn't look like the place where the greatest wizard alive would speed their holidays, eh?"

    "Not at all," the other person said, "seems like the place where my nearly-homeless grandmother would like to do her knitting."

    "Hudson, Meyer," hissed another person, "quit your chatting, we're on a mission here."

    "Right, right," said one of them, either Hudson or Meyer. "No need to get your wand in a twist, Dott--HMPH!"

    "Meyer?!"

    Isaac watched, his heart thumping a mile a minute, as the Dark Lord nonchalantly sent beams of magic into the chests of the three talking soldiers. He was using the killing curse, silently, as if he were merely carrying a cup from the counter to his bed. The other people around them began shouting, shooting spells that were easily dodged with a flick of the Dark Lord's wand. They quickly met their demise, falling lifeless to the forest ground with thumps and the cracks of bones. Unfortunately, Isaac had to get his own hands dirty as a panicked Ministry worker began attacking him, not recognizing him as the main priority of the mission. The Dark Lord shot him with the killing curse moments after Isaac had leg-locked him. Without another word, the Dark Lord began walking back toward Dumbledore's house, where Isaac could now spot the Dark Mark floating in the sky.

    It was time, Isaac realized. He had to get as quickly as he could to the house, and find the portkey, before he was genuinely murdered. He ran through the grass, rocks leaving his heels aching as they collided. Finally, he made it to the field that was nearly set entirely alight. There were bodies everywhere, nearly ten or fifteen, but Isaac spotted none that he actually recognized. Unfortunately, that also meant all the death eaters were kicking still too. Allowing his thoughts to run through, he began running through the field. Where was Wendy? He couldn't see Wendy. Shite . . . But she said she might not be there as quickly as he was, as she'd have to fight through the battle of flying curses and bloodthirsty opponents.

    When he made it to the entrance of the house, he found it unlocked. He ran inside, hopping over the body of a wide-eyed, bleeding woman. He clattered up the stairs, leaving dust bunnies to float in his wake. He had to go to the front room, the one with the massive window overlooking the field. That was the one with the portkey, his way out of hell. He used silent magic to slam open the door, the room was empty and very obviously protected by silent magic. It was so quiet there, he could've sworn he heard the mice rattling through the walls. It seemed like the island was empty, all for the rodent companions. However, the picture outside the window told a different story. Isaac began searching through the drawers, all of which were empty. He next went for the bedstand, and was startled to look away when there was a creak of the floor. He swung around, his wand raised high. He relaxed when he saw Wendy. "You are the luckiest kid alive, you know that window wasn't blackened out before yesterday?!"

    "Thought everyone would be too busy to notice me rummaging through a dead man's belongings," Isaac chuckled, embracing Wendy. As he did, he spotted the body floating behind her. "Bloody hell!"

    "You've seen worse, don't be a whimp."

    "No, it's just . . . he looks just like me." Isaac said, frowning. "What's his name?"

    "Alfred McGugan," Wendy sighed, "muggleborn University student, cause of death; that slimey-shite down there."

    Isaac gulped, looking toward his döppleganger corpse, "Well, er, thanks Alfred. I-I hope we can avenge you."

    "Mr. McGugan here will be avenged once that sucker is buried six feet deep . . . or burnt alive." Wendy said, "Now c'mon, we gotta do this quick. You remember what you have to do?"

    Isaac nodded, "Where's the portkey?"

    "In your pocket, dummy," Wendy said, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a stopwatch.

    "This?!" Isaac asked, "but you said it was in here!"

    "Well, yeah," Wendy deadpanned, "it is, innit? Once you got here, it did as well. Now lay down, I gotta put on my show!"

    "Alright, alright." Isaac got onto the floor, lying down just below the window. He took the reins of Alfred's floating body, keeping it in an upright position with magic in order for their plan to work. Wendy stood at the other side of the bed, and shot a spell. And then another one. Not at the corpse, but at random spots of the room. She wanted to create a fight scene, without the actual fighting. But then she held up three fingers, her index, middle, and ring. And then there were two fingers . . . followed by one . . . and then her wandless arm was no longer raised.

    "Revertere!" The window behind Alfred shattered, and then his body went flying. Wendy played out her reaction, running to the window as the corpse fell. Finally, there was an audible crunch and the battle paused as people grew distracted by the flying figure falling from the sky. Isaac grabbed Wendy's ankle, as planned, and tightly gripped the portkey.

    As they teleported away, there was a shout.

    When Isaac opened his eyes again, his body weak and stomach nauseous, he found himself lying in a small, but deep body of water. A quarry. Further in was Wendy, bloody water circling her floating body. Isaac gasped, "Wendy!" He began running through the water, fighting the current that fought against him. Once he got to her, he grabbed her arm. At the touch, she gasped. Her eyes opened, and she nearly slapped Isaac across the face once she planted both feet on the ground. "A-Are you okay?!"

    Wendy hissed, struggling to stay above the current as her short stature placed her in great misfortune. "Oh bloody hell, they got me arm!"

    "Pardon?!" She showed him her arm, it was bloody and torn. A mangled mess of skin, tissue, and bone. He nearly gagged, "Were you splinched?" Was this his fault?

    "No," she groaned, she began trudging through the waters despite her hardly-attached arm. "One of them bastards got me before we left."

    He followed her, cursing the water as he fought to catch up with her. "I'm sorry."

    Wendy laughed, and Isaac expected to be smacked sometime within the next minute. He recognized that laugh, it was the one he used with Draco. It's the one his father used with him when toying with his emotions, acting like a happy and proud father before giving him a black eye or busted lip. "Sorry? Why are you sorry?"

    He froze, and Wendy stopped walking as she carried her arm. "I-I don't--"

    "Isaac," She seemed oddly cheerful despite her arm hanging on by a thread. "This," she lifted her arm, "is nothing. What we just did--that was something! We did it, bug, we're dead!"

    "But you didn't blow up." Isaac said, wasn't she supposed to die with him? Was she just going with him to see him off with a backpack?

    "I will admit, that part did go a little weary," she cringed, she opened her robe to reveal Weasley Wizard Wheezes-made fireworks. "Seems like we got a bad batch. I pulled the fuse but got nothing."

    "So you're not dead?"

    "I'm as dead as you are, bug," she grinned, "that spell hitting me was perfect timing! I disappear as I get shot by some random spell--that's the perfect getaway!"

    Isaac sniffed, wiping away the water that dripped from his hair into his eyes. "Does that mean it worked? We're dead?"

    Wendy barked a laugh, running to Isaac and hugging him. "I haven't felt such adrenaline since my Hogwarts days! Merlin, okay, I need to calm down. Yes, we're dead. And over there is a small hole where I left supplies. I'll fix up my arm, and then we'll get going. In about an hour we should get to an enclosed area of wood, it's where . . . a friend of mine recommended it to me, great for solitude."

    Isaac's heart leapt, and for a moment he felt like he was gonna pass out. "This is really happening?''

    Wendy nodded, "Now lets go you dramatic-arse, this thing hurts like a motherfu--"

    Isaac collapsed into her with a hug, digging his face into her shoulder. "Thank you."

    Wendy embraced him back with her unharmed arm, "Anything for you, bug. I love you."

    "I--," his voice cracked, unfamiliar to the words. "I love you too."

AUTHORS NOTE

ah shit, *bites lower lip seductively* whasss poppingggggg

it appears my new pc has motivated me to write, hence the past five updates in three day span.

6-7 regular chapters, and 1 epilogue until the end of this story. get your tissues ready.

happy pride month!!

vote and comment if you liked this chapter, or if you just want to be nice—it'd be appreciated. (:

June 14, 2021
3,630 words