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SIYE Time:13:48 on 16th June 2021


Manhunter
By sapphire200182

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Category: Post-DH/AB
Characters:All
Genres: Action/Adventure
Warnings: Dark Fiction, Death, Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 20
Summary: The war is over, and Voldemort is dead, the remnants of his Death Eaters scattered and in hiding…but there’s at least one Phoenix who isn’t letting them go that easy! Rated PG-13 for dark themes, post-DH but no spoilers.
Hitcount: Story Total: 4342



Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.



Author's Notes:
This is just a one-shot, and unless I get enough votes I won’t turn it into a longer fic. Thanks as usual to my beta GINNY__POTTER258, otherwise known as Jess. She's an evil girl who loves Dark Harry!




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MANHUNTER

Summary: The war is over, and Voldemort is dead, the remnants of his Death Eaters scattered and in hiding…but there’s at least one Phoenix who isn’t letting them go that easy! Rated PG-13 for dark themes, post-DH but no spoilers.

Disclaimer: I don’t own JK Rowling’s fine work.

Author’s Note: This is just a one-shot, and unless I get enough votes I won’t turn it into a longer fic. Thanks as usual to my beta GINNY__POTTER258, otherwise known as Jess. You rock!

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A House Somewhere,
A Town Somewhere,
A County Somewhere,
England.

13 December, 2010.


The shambling old man looked both ways before crossing the street. He looked like any one of the old, worn-out World War Two veterans who now lived off the dole, off the grid and off the phonebook, the kind who cared for nobody and whom nobody cared for.

The old man walked up to a shack of a house, rickety and termite-ridden, with old dusty planks boarding up the windows and the remnants of cheap whitewash covering around ten percent of its walls. Inserting a key into the lock, the old man turned and entered…

…stepping into a scene of unbridled luxury that looked outrageously out of sorts with the exterior of the house. The hallway was lit brightly by an ornate candelabra, and thick shag carpet muffled the man’s footsteps. Busts of famous people dotted the walls every three feet. The man stopped just inside the threshold and opened a door set in the wall that revealed a walk-in wardrobe.

Chuckling softly, he took off his flea-riddled coat and shapeless shoes, changing into a comfortable tweed dressing gown and house slippers, tossing the dirty coat and worn shoes into a cupboard by the door.

In the light of the room, the man seemed to turn back time, straightening his crooked back, his steps becoming a regal gait instead of a slow shuffle, his crinkled face turning from eighty years old to a comparatively-young fifty. The man padded to the drawing room of the house, intent on a cup of espresso by the fire.

As he entered the room, however, he noticed the fire was out. Shadows played around the walls, and he felt a tiny twinge of fear, the last vestige of his instinctive fear of the dark that he had all but ground out. As he moved towards the fireplace to restart it, a hand came down on his shoulder out of the darkness.

“What in Merlin’s name…”

The prick of wand-tip in the small of his back precluded further protests.

“Don’t say a word.”

“You can’t get away with this! I was acquitted by…”

The spell that blasted from the wand was wordless, and yet the force of it flung him across the room, although his impact against the far wall was cushioned by an expensive Ming Dynasty vase.

“Shut up.”

Picking himself up amid porcelain pieces, the man wiped at a cut on his lip and grudgingly nodded at the shadowy figure in front of him. “Point taken.”

“I don’t buy that Imperius Curse shit, Mulciber. You and I, between the both of us - we know it’s utter crap.”

Mulciber nodded. “Between you and I, then.” He knew he stared in the face of the man who would imprison him lifelong in Azkaban, whether he had the Ministry’s approval or not…simply because he had the power to do so. And yet he felt a respect for the man’s abilities, for it wasn’t easy to run down an ex-Death Eater’s hiding place…at least, not an ex-Death Eater as skilful as he was.

“How did you find me?” he asked, impelled by his curiosity.

“I dug into your colleague Slymer’s brain. He told me all he knew, and now he’s telling all he knows to the Ministry, too.”

“Slymer, eh? I knew it,” said Mulciber, exhaling heavily. That stupid bastard Slymer!

“It was difficult tracking Slymer down, though,” conceded the intruder. “And I admire your wards, though it was relatively easy to bring them down.”

Mulciber nodded. “We are...we were careful. In our business you had to be careful.”

“You shouldn’t have murdered Emmeline Vance. You did it right on the Muggle Ministry’s doorsteps. That made it personal, both to the Wizarding World and to the Muggle Prime Minister. Specifically told us to get the ones who killed poor Emmeline.”

“What can I say? It wasn’t often we could tag an Order of the Phoenix member. We had to do it when we had the opportunity. She put up a great fight, though,” said Mulciber, looking sideways at his unwelcome guest. “Oh, yes she did. Slymer still got that cough she gave him? Burned his lungs she did, that spell ought to be counted as a Dark curse.”

“Yeah, if the Ministry doesn’t execute him he’ll die soon enough. The last time I saw him he was hacking up pieces of his lung linings in Azkaban.”

“It was just business,” said Mulciber, a note of pleading in his voice.

“Too bad,” said the intruder, raising his wand.

“I’ll go quietly.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Mulciber felt the colour drain out of him. “You mean...?”

“Yeah,” nodded the other. “The Ministry won’t do it, so I’m going to. I’ve taken that burden upon my shoulders.”

“And when will it end?” said Mulciber, a high-pitched note of hysteria in his voice. “What comes after you’ve tracked down the last of us? What’s left for you?”

“Everything.”

Mulciber saw the wand raise a fraction of an inch, taking aim at where his heart was, and he breathed deeply, trying to quell his fear. He tried to appeal to the other’s merciful side, one which he knew surely did exist. Had to exist. “Please...” he begged. “Don’t do this...”

A flash of light struck the ex-Death Eater, and he keeled backwards upon the floor, motionless. Not a twitch, not a spasm...not even a stray heartbeat.

“It’s just business,” breathed the intruder, placing his wand in an inside robe pocket.

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No. 12, Grimmauld Place,
London.


“Hi, honey!”

“Hello, Harry!”

Harry Potter grinned as Ginny embraced him with a smile and a kiss, extending his arms away from his body so his Muggle-styled briefcase would not get in the way of a bearhug from his dear wife.

“You’re late again,” chided Ginny softly.

“I had to stay back and have a chat with a Junior Auror,” said Harry, hanging up his winter cloak on one of the pegs beside the door. “Seems to be having a bit of a family problem.”

“You’re going to have a family problem if you don’t get a bath and have some dinner,” said Ginny. “I had the time to make some pie today, so you’d better appreciate it! Now into the bathroom!” she said somewhat fiercely.

Harry shook his head, wondering what the rest of the Wizarding world would think if they knew the Chosen One was hopelessly bound by his wife, and was talked to like that...and liked it that way. He couldn’t help but smile.

“What’s with that goofy smile?” demanded his wife.

“Oh, I was just wondering what you would do to me if I did this...” And, scooping his slight wife up into his arms, Harry raced as fast as he could to the swimming pool at the back of the house, intent on thoroughly soaking Ginny.

Ginny squealed and tried to reach her wand, but it was stuck in a pocket, squashed between her body and her husband’s.

Tossing his wife bodily into the water, Harry raced for his study and slammed the door.

“Colloportus!” he gasped, smiling.

The thud of a spell on the other side of the door - accompanied by a giggle - told him he was just in time.

“I’ll get you yet, Harry!” came her muffled voice from the other side of the door.

“If you can catch me,” called back Harry.

Harry heard her retreating down the stairs, and smiled to himself. Then he caught sight of the sheet of parchment pinned up on one side of the wall, and his smile vanished...to be replaced by a small smirk.

Picking up a Self-Inking quill from the jar on his desk, he strode over to the piece of faded parchment. Taking a deep breath, he smiled and...

...drew a line straight through the word Mulciber, idly examining the other names on the list, the next ones to be hunted.

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PS:< /b> Do you think I should turn this into a longer fic? The possibilities are there...
Reviews 20
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