They. . . Have A Deal

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"That's pretty much it, I guess," Quinn muttered silently. He held a small black puck in one hand as the other hand's fingers weaved magic into the small magical machine that he had created on the spot from an emergency supply of things in his pockets. He kept an eye on the streets below him, nothing everything from the cover of the shadows.

The surveillance was completed.

He pressed the puck's top for patterns to appear on the black surface, shimmering in an esoteric light before dissipating in the afternoon light. The small puck was now functional. Quinn didn't put it away immediately; instead, he covered the puck in both palms and flushed it with an intense burst of magic.

A white smoke escaped from between his hands. 'No way, I'm going to leave my magical signature behind a second time,' he thought as he pocketed the now complete puck.

It was time to leave Hogsmeade for a while to prepare for the next phase of the day. He stood up from the crouching position and was about to walk when he felt a buzz coming from one of his breast pockets. He took out a pocket mirror, and it was the one Ivy had made for him. He gazed around, scouring the street for eyes before slipping into a shop nearest to him.

"Hey, is something wrong?" Quinn asked a worried Ivy.

"Why haven't you been picking up?!" Ivy all but screeched at him. Quinn could feel the panic and anxiety in her voice; it was like an overflowing dam. "I have been trying to reach you for-for— forever! I thought Voldemort got you, that you were. . . that you," she hiccuped, "d-died. . . Why haven't you been picking up my calls, you idiot?!"

"Ivy, listen to me. . . I want you to take deep breaths," he said. "Calm yourself down. Short bursts of Occlumency to just vain off all that fright. . . and deep breaths. . . yes, like that, very good." Quinn pulled a chair inside the shop, and even though it wasn't the time and place, he sat down to listen. "Unfortunately, it is as you thought; I'm inside Hogsmeade right now—"

"Get out of there!"

"— Fortunately, I've excellent stealth skills and am extremely well hidden," said Quinn. "And please don't worry, I am about to leave Hogsmeade— I already did what I came here to do; now it's time to let the authorities do their job," he smiled.

"You promise?" she asked him with an urge that was asking for him to agree.

"I promise," he smiled. "So, why were you trying to reach me? Did something happen?"

Ivy slumped into the sofa she was sitting on, and her beautiful green eyes darkened. "We were eating lunch when Voldemort's voice filled the Great Hall. He said that he will let everyone else go as long as he gets me, mom, and Harry," Ivy's breath quickened as she got up and began pacing around, sending the mirror out of focus.

Quinn sat up straight the moment he heard the words. "No one in their right minds will believe that, would they?" But as the words left his mouth, he knew what pressure and danger could do to the human mind and its decision-making capabilities.

"Everyone's whispering," Ivy was barely in the frame, with the image shifting all around the room. "Hermione went out sneaking under the cloak, and she heard everyone talking about it everywhere— no one was outright saying it, but they were all pointing to it. But now, sixth and seventh years are filling the Great Hall, and I think they will ask Dumbledore. . . to-to," she took deep breaths; she sat down, and Quinn could finally properly see her again.

"It's okay; nothing of what you think is going to happen," he tried to calm her down. "Dumbledore's not going to let anyone harm you guys. I know right now is difficult, but please don't let your thoughts go in that direction. I'm going to go meet the Aurors and give them what I've found— they will contact Dumbledore, and with the combined effort, this will get sorted by tomorrow. Everything's going to turn up, believe me."

Ivy wiped the tears that trickled down her face and rubbed her eyes as she nodded. She stared at Quinn through the mirror, and her face took on a rigid expression as if bracing herself.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I need you to tell me where is the Hufflepuff's Cup."

Quinn blinked in confusion before his brows furrowed, and he asked, frowning. "What brought this on, if I may ask?"

"You're the Invisible Vigilante; you're always in danger. Even now, you're inside Hogsmeade all alone with the Death Eaters and Voldemort. And you're the only one who knows where the Horcrux is. I need to know where it is in case something. . ."

"In case something happens to me," Quinn nodded.

"Quinn, I'm sorry—"

"No, no, you have a point. Me being the only one to know the location is a problem," it was a legitimate point he hadn't thought of yet; even his Will that was automatically supposed to go via MagiFax to multiple sources upon his death didn't mention the Horcrux's location. "I have the Horcrux on my person— it always is— but don't worry, I'll drop it in a secure location as soon as I leave here. It'll be here. . ." He told Ivy the location of one of his secret stashes that held an emergency inventory in case he required supplies.

"Thank you," Ivy rested her forehead on her palm and kept repeating the same.

After the call ended, Quinn didn't immediately leave the shop. He sat in the darkness of the shop and stared outside at the bright street. The plan was supposed to be to get out of Hogsmeade, drop off the intel to the Aurors, and then wait for the fighting to begin to jump back in and end all of it once and for all.

But with what he just heard, plans had to be changed.

"This is hard," he spat.

He pocketed Ivy's mirror and took out Daphne's mirror instead. He held the mirror for a minute, contemplating if he should proceed with it because if he did it, the price might be a little too much for him.

He closed his eyes and injected magic into the mirror. It flashed in silver light, and with each flash, Quinn thought if he should cut the transmission and forget about it.

"Quinn?" Daphne picked up the call.

He silently took a breath before saying, "I want you to do something for me."

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"I heard you want the Potters."

Voldemort, who had been thinking and working on breaking the Hogwarts defenses, opened his eyes when he heard the voice whispered into his ear. He didn't even look around the room and exited the room he was in because he could feel the traces of magic laced in the sound. The speaker wasn't in his room.

"How about we make a deal, you and I," repeated the voice.

Voldemort walked through the town hall, ignoring his Death Eaters and the pathetic whimpers of the hostages. His eyes narrowed to the wall, and he raised his hand for a small spider to fly from the wall into his palm. He raised his palm closer to his face, and upon a closer look, the spider wasn't a normal one. 'A puppet?' he thought, looking at the spider made from various materials like metal, wood, and rubber. He channeled magic into the spider and came across the enchantments laid into it.

"I can get you Boy-Who-Lived," Voldemort heard again. "But just him, not the mother and daughter."

Voldemort didn't respond. He observed the magic in the puppet spider, which was the source of the sound he was hearing. He looked around the town hall and noticed six more spiders in the large hall. The sound and magic were being bounced off between the seven spiders, with the voice transmission switching between the seven spiders quickly.

'Why?' Voldemort contemplated. 'Why such complexity?'

He dug deeper into the magic and sensed that the seven spiders were getting the signals from outside. He moved outside with one of the spiders in hand and, with his magic, noticed that the signal was again coming from multiple sources, all around the village, and again was being bounced around the village.

'Ah. . . it is so that I won't find where the voice is coming from.' Voldemort's feet left the ground, and he rose up into the sky and flew up high enough to look at the entire village. 'I can't tell where it is coming from,' his guess was correct— the sender was trying to hide from him. He could find it, but it would take time. . .

Voldemort placed the puppet spider on his shoulder and spoke, "I am listening. . ."

The reply came after a couple seconds. "I can get you the Boy-Who-Lived, but only him. In turn, you let go of the hostages— half now and half after the job is done."

"Why would I believe anything you say? What if this is just a ploy to trick me into letting go of half of my leverage? Why should I trust someone I don't know," Voldemort looked around the message, actively trying to locate the speaker. "Someone who can't even show the basic etiquette by standing before me while talking."

"You can believe me because I can get you face to face with Harry Potter with Dumbledore interfering it."

"That seems unlikely." He could've done it by now if it was possible.

"I can turn that unlikely to very likely."

"Oh," Voldemort tried to stretch the conversation to see if he could even locate the general area, "and who do you think you are to think that you can steal Harry Potter from under Dumbledore's eyes."

"I'm the Invisible Vigilante."

Voldemort stopped searching and fixed his gaze on a distance, concentrating more on his hearing than his sight. The Invisible Vigilante. . . if someone asked him who had been his worst obstacle since his recent return, then he would undoubtedly point to the Invisible Vigilante— the unknown man had foiled several of his plan that would've been crucial in taking over the country.

"Why would you, of all people, help me?" asked Voldemort.

"I despise you and everything related to you. If I could, I would've already killed you. Right now, you have all of Hogsmeade with you— and if I can deliver one for the safety of many, it's only logical. I provide you with Harry Potter, and you let go of the hostages. . . as straightforward as it can get."

Voldemort didn't reply instantly. He let the offer rest in his head, tumbling in his thought and reasoning, his mind measuring the words on the balancing scale of pros and cons, trying to see if this offer was enticing enough to let go of his leverages.

"Agreed," said the Dark Lord. The prophecy had been about him and Harry Potter and foretold the danger to his life. He had already lost his body and was forced to roam the plane for a long, painful time. He wasn't going to have a repeat of it— he preferred to have the threat of prophecy removed from his head. "I shall let half go now and half when I have Harry Potter in my grasp. But beware, Invisible Vigilante, cross me, and the lives of these people will be on your bloodstained hands." If he was betrayed, the ground would be irrigated with the blood of its residents.

"Let half of them go," came the voice. "I will contact you when I'm ready to make the exchange— I'll tell you the place."

Voldemort wanted to issue a deadline, but before he could say anything, the puppet spider jumped off his shoulder and went free-falling down to the ground. It was clear that the negotiations were over. If it was any other time, he would've not accepted such insolence and smite the other party— but the price was tantalizing this time. This could be the first step he had been lacking, the first step to his eternal glory.

He flew down the town hall, and the moment he stepped across the door, he was approached by Rookwood, and before the ex-Unspeakable could get in a word, Voldemort spoke,

"Separate the woman and children from the men, and let the men go."

"Go?"

"Yes, let them go. I'll open the ward."

He snapped his finger, and the puppet spiders in the town hall sparked into fumes.

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Quinn West - Invisible Vigilante - I mean, I have to continue it. . .

Ivy Potter - On a roller coaster - Unfortunately, she won't find the Horcrux there.

Voldemort - Dark Lord - Time to kill the prophecy with green

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