Same disclaimers as before

Chapter 10: A Meeting in the Mountains

The four founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were not fools. They were well aware that the safety and secrecy of their students was paramount, a higher priority than even their education. It was with this in mind that they selected the location for their school all those centuries ago. A range of mountains surrounding the castle would be the first line of defense, but certainly not the last. In fact, when all defenses and illusions were set up and the school first opened, the placement of the castle in the mountains of Scotland seemed an afterthought as opposed to a well-discussed decision.

Currently, the mountains were in the throws of early spring. Each day, the snow capping their peaks receded back in thick chunks. It was a pity that only two souls were able to see this process of nature. Two Death Eaters posted in the sole path through the mountains that didn't involve the Hogwarts Express stared at the mountains in boredom day in and day out.

Their names were Brogan and Woodburn and they had been set as guards of the pass by Severus Snape himself in October. At first, the post had been exciting and the two had been eager to serve their dark master. As the months passed, however, their interest in their job waned and they found themselves dreading their shifts more and more.

It was the evening of March 14th that Woodburn shook Brogan awake and found his friend in a fouler mood than he had ever seen. "Mate, wake up."

Brogan rolled over in his bed. "No."

"It's your shift."

"To hell with my shift. It's raining. I'm not going out there."

"You could just stay on the porch and watch the path," reasoned Woodburn, "But someone needs to watch for intruders and I've just spent six hours doing it. It's your turn."

Brogan shot up in bed. "Why are we doing this, Woodburn?"

Woodburn blinked. "Because someone has to watch the path."

"But the Disintegration Dome will take care of any intruders!" argued Brogan.

"Look," said Woodburn with a sigh, "I'll watch with you. I'll make my snicker doodles and you can show me where you're keeping the firewhisky. We'll make a night of it, what do you say?"

Brogan groaned and swung himself out of his bed. "Dammit, you know I can't refuse your cooking." Woodburn brushed off his chest proudly as he walked to the kitchen.

An hour later, Brogan was sitting in a rocking chair on the porch of the cabin he shared with Woodburn. Before him, the mountain path stretched in either direction, disappearing into the stormy night. Woodburn opened the creaky wooden door and joined him, slipping into the wicker porch chair he had bought in Hogsmeade. "Cookies are in the oven," he said, "Where's the whiskey?" Brogan sighed and drew out his wand.

"Accio firewhiskey." The floor boards under his feet lifted up and two bottles of Ogden's Old flew out. He grabbed them deftly and handed one to Woodburn. "Cheers."

Woodburn grinned as he took a swig. "Under the porch. Clever." Brogan shrugged and stared out into the rain. "Penny for your thoughts?" asked Woodburn.

"I hate it here," he muttered, "This isn't what I became a Death Eater for."

Woodburn took another swig. "Why'd you join then?"

Brogan sighed and rocked gently in his chair. "Me da was Irish. He would always sing the old Irish songs and play the flute. I'll never forget, he said to me, 'Eoin me lad, never forget where you come from.' I guess I joined the Death Eaters because I wanted to keep the traditions alive. I never cared about the whole blood thing, to be honest. I only ever want to honor me da. And look where it got me." He barked a laugh as he took a sip of the burning liquid, "I watching a path nobody's used in ages. I'm pretty sure nobody even knows about this place." He took another sip, "Enough about me, why'd you join?"

"Oh, me mum was one. The blood purity thing is ridiculous, but I'd rather be on the wining side, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it." They sat in companionable silence, sipping at their drinks. Eventually, Woodburn went to fetch his cookies and he brought them out to cool. In the distance, the church bells of Hogsmeade rang twelve times.

There was a flash of lightning and Brogan spat his firewhiskey. "Did you see that?"

Woodburn, now sufficiently tipsy, glanced at him. "See what?"

Brogan stood up and drew his wand. "Someone's out there."

Woodburn chuckled to himself. "You're drunk," he slurred, "Nobody's out there."

"I'm sure I saw something," muttered Brogan, his eyes scanning the dark. Thunder rolled in the heavens and lightning forked the skies once more, illuminating a dark silhouette against the clouds. "Tell me you didn't see that!" said Brogan, jumping forwards.

Woodburn stared at where the figure had been and then at his drink. "This is some powerful stuff. Where'd you get it?"

"I assure you I am no drunken hallucination." Woodburn nearly fell out of his chair as he drew his wand and stumbled after his partner. Together they stood in the middle of the path, their wands raised into the darkness.

"This path is closed off, by order of the Headmaster of Hogwarts," declared Brogan, "Turn back and leave!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, gentlemen."

Woodburn scowled. "Lumos!" light shone from the tip of his wand. It cast itself over the tall figure with a black cloak blowing in the wind and a wide-brimmed black hat that dipped over it's face walking slowly towards them.

Brogan glanced down and saw where he was standing. His eyes widened and he held his hand up. "Stop! You're right in front of the Disintegration Dome!" The figure did not break stride and stepped straight into the dome, the magic casting a blue aura over his form as he passed through it.

Brogan's jaw dropped and Woodburn squinted his eyes. "Are you sure you're not a hallucination?"

"Quite sure," said the figure, "Your defenses protect you against magic." He lifted his head, revealing the pasty white smile, rosy cheeks, and black mustache of a Guy Fawkes mask. "They do not, however, protect against me." Before either of the Death Eaters could react, he flipped open his cloak, revealing a series of knives hanging off his belt. He drew two and spun them expertly.

"Expelliarmus!" cried Brogan. His spell struck the figure in the chest and dispersed around. "Christ!' screamed the Death Eater. He turned to run, but a knife lodged itself in the back of his skull.

As his partner fell, Woodburn stared at the figure. "Who are you?"

"You may call me V. And you, good sir?"

"Woodburn. Elijah Woodburn."

"A pleasure, Mr. Woodburn. And who was the man I just killed?"

"Eoin Brogan. Are you going to kill me?"

"Yes."

"Right then," Woodburn raised his wand, but V darted forwards. He sank a knife into Woodburn's elbow and twisted over the wizard. A blade slid from his sleeve and he jabbed it straight through the back of Woodburn's neck. Blood began to seep into the wizard's robes as he fell next to his partner. V grabbed the knife in Woodburn's elbow before his victim fell. He spun it into its sheath and surveyed his work.

"That was unnecessary."

V didn't turn, he recognized the voice. "It was quite necessary."

"I don't mean killing them. Hell, you should've let me have the chance. But why'd you need to know their names?"

"I respect my victims towards whom I feel no animosity. Come." He walked onto the porch of the cabin and sat down in the wicker chair. From the other side of the path approached a hooded, crouched figure. As soon as she left the rain, she flipped back her hood, revealing frizzled hair and large, thick glasses. "You look hassled, Sybil," said V as the divination teacher sat down in the rocking chair, "Hard times?"

"The Carrows and Severus are destroying Hogwarts from the inside out, Potter and his friends are out there doing God knows what, the Dark Lord has made his own name into a locator spell, and you, one of the few people who can help us, you're sulking in London while my students suffer." Sybil Trelawney drew a flask out of her the folds of her cloak, "Do you mind? I'm addicted to the stuff."

"By all means."

"Thanks," she took a deep swill of the cooking sherry, "Why did you want to see me? You know it's dangerous for us to meet like this. Alecto almost caught me sneaking out."

"I wouldn't call on you unless it was important," said V, "Do you know Evey Hammond?"

Sybil thought for a moment. "I may have had her a few years back. If memory serves correct, she didn't have much of a gift for divination but she tried her damndest. Of course," she swirled the sherry in the flask, "My memory has taken a bit of a beating these last few years."

"Do you see anything in her future?"

Sybil raised her eyebrows at the masked man. "Why? What's important about her?"

V looked out into the rain and lifted a hand to touch his mask. "Everything," he said softly, "Everything rests on her." Sybil stared at him for a moment but she sighed and closed her eyes. She gripped the arms of her chair and leaned her head back. After a few minutes of silence, she breathed deeply and opened her eyes. "Well?"

"I saw you," she breathed, "You are her future."

"What did you see exactly?" he pressed, "Did you see V? Or did you see…me?"

Sybil fixed him with a glare. "Which would you prefer?"

V turned to face her, his mask hiding whatever it was he felt. "I don't know," he said softly, "I want it to be me you saw, but I need it to be V."

Sybil leaned forwards in her chair. "What's going on, V? Evey Hammond was never mentioned in the plan you told me back in September."

"An unforeseen but pleasant change of plans," he said.

Sybil grunted as she took another sip of her drink. "You're just as annoying and confusing as you were when I found you."

"You were so drunk," V chuckled.

"You're lucky I was," she muttered, "If I'd been sober, I would've run away." They sat in silence as Sybil realized what she just said. "V, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Do not apologize," said V gently, "I am well aware of my appearance." They sat together, listening to the rain come down on the wooden roof of the cabin.

"So, did you ask to see me just so I could tell you Ms. Hammond's future?"

"No. I need to know: is there anything about May 2nd you haven't told me? Every detail is important."

Sybil sighed. "We've been over this, V. I have quite literally never been surer of anything in my life. On May 2nd, Potter will return to Hogwarts and the battle for the wizarding world will begin. I have told you everything I know."

V nodded. "I'll draw as many Death Eaters as I can back to London, but I suspect all the big players will come here."

Sybil nodded. "And you?"

"I want Thicknesse."

Sybil nearly dropped her flask. "What?" she demanded.

"Pius Thicknesse. The Minister of Magic. He's my target."

She stared at him. "But…but he's under the Imperius Curse! He's just a puppet! You're doing all this to kill a figurehead?"

"My target is not the puppet," said V, "But the puppeteer."

Sybil was silent for a moment as she thought about what he was saying. "Yaxley," she realized, "You want Yaxley."

"I trust Harry will take care of the Dark Lord and Snape," said V, "But the government needs to be taken down immediately following. We cannot give them time to reform, to reorganize. Lestrange is too crazy, nobody would follow her without You-Know-Who to validate her sadism. Yaxley, on the other hand, if the Dark Lord and Snape fall, he is poised to take command of the Ministry. I cannot allow that."

"And when Yaxley is dead? Who will take his place?"

"Hopefully, I will have stalled him long enough for a new minister to be named, one who is not aligned with the Death Eaters," V stood and breathed deeply. "Caesar beware the ides of March," he said, "This is the beginning of the end Sybil."

"Good," she muttered, tossing her flask into the cabin. Her drink spilled over the floor. "I don't think I can take much more of this. Incendio." She lit the alcohol and it burst to fiery life.

"This is probably the last time we will see each other," said V, putting his hat on and wrapping himself in his cloak, "I'd like to thank you once more for taking care of me when I was weak. And also for helping me save all those paintings and artifacts for my Shadow Gallery."

"It was my pleasure," said Sybil, flipping her hood up, "Wait, what do you mean this is the last time-?" she looked to where V had been standing just a moment before, but he was gone, vanished into the darkness of the storm night. "Humph," she muttered. She grabbed a cookie from the platter that rested on the small table on the porch. "Mmm," she said to herself, taking a bite as she walked out into the rain, "Damn good cookies."

. . .

Please review!

I wrote this chapter because some of the reviews I got made me feel like I wasn't explaining things well enough. For clarity's sake, let me spell it out for you guys. V and Evey are working in London during the events of Deathly Hollows. Voldemort is looking for Harry and the Elder Wand while V causes havoc around the ministry. Therefore, V is not Harry. However, he is a character from the Harry Potter cannon and if you read carefully, you can kind of figure out who he is.