Author's note: Thanks again to the reviewers and the guys over at DLP who are keeping me on my toes.

Chapter Three

The Journal

Sir Rupert Manspark stared out of the second floor window lost in though when Harry and Padma arrived. A soft knock on the door from Padma announced their presence. He turned away from the window and Harry saw that the snooty and emotionless expression dropped into place across the elderly man's face.

"May I assume Sir Harry has been brought to date on recent – occurrences?"

Padma nodded. "Yes sir."

Manspark's cold brown eyes tracked to Harry. "Your course of action?"

Harry walked in and pulled out a chair from in front of the desk. He sat and leaned back and after fiddling with the sword hanging by his side he crossed his legs at the ankle. "I'm thinking I need to know a little more about the last few times this happened. I tend to work better with all the available information if you want me to do my job properly."

Manspark seem to consider him for a few moments before showing his assent. "In the year 1795 as the date of Order inception approached, the first of several murders was committed."

Harry nodded. "The Gentleman Usher of the Scarlet Rod?"

The side of Manspark's mouth twitched slightly. "Correct. However, Sir Harry, when you refer to that particular office it is commonly referred to simply as Scarlet Rod. The office is to be yours as of Monday." He turned his head to Padma. "Have you not informed him of his duties?"

"I assumed you'd want Harry to get to work on the murders considering you're next," Padma shot back in an almost irritated voice.

Manspark's eyebrows rose slightly. "Quite." He took two steps closer to the Indian girl. "Miss Patil, in the future when referring to a member of the Order, any order or member of any peerage you will use their proper title. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Sir Rupert. Padma and I went to school together. She can call me anything she wants." After a very brief moment of reflection Harry made a decision. "Actually I was hoping for maybe, baby, or perhaps sugar bunch." He grinned in response to Manspark's slight sneer. "Think that's too over the top?"

Manspark didn't seem the least bit amused. "Careful Sir Harry, your lower breeding is showing."

Harry's grin faded to a slight smirk when he took to his feet and dug into his robes. "Tell you what, when you start being a little nicer to those people that are trying to save your obviously impacted bowels and the body that they are attached to then give me a ring." He withdrew the leather-bound book and shrugged his head at his friend. "Come on Padma."

When they neared the door the elderly man called out. "Wait."

Harry turned and folded the book to his side. "Yes?"

Conflict raced over Manspark's face. "Do you know who …"

Harry cocked his head then shook it in response. "Not a who; more of a what."

Manspark didn't even twitch as he stood there expressionless.

"Sir Rupert, the creature we are looking for probably stands about a meter and a half to two meters in height with an indeterminate amount of clawed limbs. It is exceptionally strong and has the rather nasty ability to punch through bone, and muscle with one stroke. It can also remove the heart of its victim with that one hand." Harry's face went cold. "Now you can either drop the holier than thou attitude and work with us, or I can always wait until it has claimed you and then do my job."

Manspark didn't give him any indication of toning down his less than witty repartee. "Where did you get that?"

By following his line of sight Harry lifted up the leather bound book. "This? This was at the murder scene. It's the latest victim's journal. I'm hoping we can sit down and find out if he had any insight as to what killed him."

He lifted it up and unwound the leather thong. "By what I glanced at earlier I think that your Scarlet Rod was into something he wasn't supposed to be." Harry concentrated on Manspark's body language before asking his next question. "Any idea what that might have been?"

The elderly man's eyes flicked between the journal and Harry. He relaxed his posture and crossed his arms. "No, I've no idea."

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "Huh, oh well." He slung the journal to his side. "Have a happy closed casket funeral." He didn't even bother turning to the door before Manspark broke.

"Mister Potter … Sir Harry," Manspark started as he dropped his arms and held them behind his back. "I truly do not know what Myerson was up to in relation to the murder."

Padma moved closer to Harry. "You're worried about what else might be in the journal."

Harry's smile returned and he nodded a thank you to his friend. "Of course," he said. "Look, I really don’t care if you and your little club like dressing up like Japanese schoolgirls and go frolicking in gay bays." He watched as Manspark's face reddened. "I'm here for one thing, the murder." He shrugged. "Oh, and the schoolgirl thing? Eww."

Manspark brought himself to his full height. "I've informed you before, Sir Harry, I do not have a sense of humor."

Harry's smile became toothy again. "That's what makes the whole thing so funny. You keep right on playing the straight man." He handed the journal to Padma. "Go through that and see there's anything that might help."

Padma made herself comfortable at a small conference table in the middle of the room with a legal pad and a sharp pencil while Harry and Sir Rupert continued their conversation.

"Did Mr. Usher guy have a schedule?"

Manspark nodded slightly and then pressed a button on the intercom. "Miss Pearson, have Myerson's schedule for the last…" he looked up at Harry who returned four fingers. "The last four weeks along with any corresponding driver logs. Have it sent in as soon as possible."

Harry withdrew his notepad and pencil as he leaned back and crossed his legs. "What else can you tell me about the murders over the years?"

Manspark interlaced his fingers and leaned into the desk slightly. "There isn't much from the 1795 murders. We do know the order they were killed though through recordkeeping, dates of death and so forth." He pursed his lips and then continued. "The only surviving record of what actually occurred was a diary of a traveling friar. He spoke of cleansing rituals, blessings used to confront the evil that walked the halls."

The elderly man looked more aged over the last few hours. "We assumed it was a figure of speech considering his occupation. I mean …"

Harry nodded and tried to push him onward. "1865?"

"Pardon?"

"1795 plus 70 equals 1865," clarified Harry.

"Right." He blinked a few times. Harry thought the look that crossed Manspark face was showing someone that was encountering their own mortality for the first time.

"Actually it was early 1866. The dates in between incidents are not exact, but approximately seventy years," he explained. "The order of killings was the same starting with the Scarlet Rod until the Dean was killed two weeks later."

Manspark stood and walked over to a closed cabinet, retrieved a key from his pocket and unlocked what Harry saw was a fairly nice cache of liquor.  He poured three fingers of brown decanted liquor and took a decent sized pull before turning. "Sir Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "No thanks."

The elder knight swirled the liquor a little before continuing. "It wasn't until the murder of the Genealogist that a historian made the connection between the previous murders.  Since the Church seemed to have played a positive role before, they brought them back and blessed each member of the Order. They spent their days in prayer, took communion, and carried around various symbols of the Church for protection."

Harry made an entry in his notebook and then looked back up. "I take it that didn't do any good."

In answer a mild head shake was returned. "No."

In a subdued voice Harry asked, "How did it end?"

After another pull from the glass Manspark continued. "The Dean at the time, Sir Arthur Trench discovered the whereabouts of the true Claiomh Solais. Thinking it his last and only hope he prepared himself for battle." After a lengthy pause he looked at Harry. "The next morning they found him like the others except for one small difference."

Harry tilted his head in expectation.

"There was a small amount of an unknown substance charred on the sword."

"Charred?" inquired Harry.

"Burned, Sir Harry." After another drink, to either steel his nerves or to begin a day long drunk, Manspark clarified. "His aide found him as the others. He still held the sword in his left hand. A battered long-shield across the room, and some sort of remains on the sword were the only evidence that there was a struggle of some sort."

"Harry," Padma called out with a slight bit of eagerness in her voice. "I've got something."

He was quick to his feet and over to the table. She flipped two pages of notes to the beginning. "Sir Rupert, would you please secure passports for the three of us. We'll need to travel to the United States."

Before Harry perused the notes he said to nobody in particular, "My Auror badge will get me through customs."

Manspark picked up the phone and dialed while Padma turned to the relevant pages in the journal.

"The Scarlet Rod apparently knew more about what was happening than anyone else," Padma started. "The beginnings of the journal spoke of how he was aware of the previous murders and the investigation of how they occurred.

"It wasn't until later that he was able to have the charred substance analyzed that he truly understood the ramifications of the discovery."

"Miss Patel," interrupted Manspark. "Where will we be traveling?"

"Arkham, Massachusetts – specifically, Miskatonic University," she answered.

"Excuse me?" replied a more than skeptical Harry.

She looked up from the journal. "I know, right?"

Manspark hung up the phone and walked over to the table with a more purposeful stride. "I've heard that name before."

"American literature," Harry explained. "H.P. Lovecraft. He was a creation of the American's Department of Magic to cover up a city-wide break in the statute of secrecy." He shrugged. "They couldn't obliviate everyone."

Padma nodded. "An aspiring writer in the local magical community was set up with a reoccurring section in a periodical of the times. He used tales of the Great Old Ones as his background. The magical event was said to be a sort of advertising for the periodical."

Harry watched Manspark sipping at his drink again noting the slight tremor in his hand.

"Do you mean that …"

Padma closed the journal. "Oh yes, the tales of Lovecraft are quite real." She relaxed her posture and gave the elderly man a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. All of the Old Ones and the Elder Gods were banished millennia ago. There is no chance of them returning."

Manspark pulled out a chair and sat down abruptly. "I don't remember the stories well. In fact all I can remember is people going insane."

Harry looked thoughtfully out of the picturesque window behind the desk while Padma continued.

"There were a plethora of ancient demons, hundreds of feet tall and hideous to behold whose goal it was to enslave the people of Earth or destroy them as the case may be. For those of a weak mind to even see any of these demons was bad enough. They would be frozen in their tracks at the shear horror of their appearance."

Harry spun on his heel and rapidly approached the table. "While others, of a more organized mind, those that could actually understand the ramifications of the appearance of such creatures – they would go insane often turning to self-mutilation, murder, suicide, and catatonia."

Manspark sat horrified, unable to speak while dawning overcame Padma's features. "Harry, you don't think?"

"And you don't," he said incredulously. At the shaking of her head he pressed on. "Then why do we need to go to Miskatonic U?"

She picked up the journal in response and fell short of waving it in front of Harry. "Myerson requested certain materials be sent to him: scrolls, books. Harry, he requested the Nerconomicon." Padma was almost on the edge of nerves. "They refused." After a few moments of reflection she continued. "You aren't suggesting that someone has found a way to breach the barrier between realities?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm suggesting that not everything was banished three-thousand years ago, and someone or something has found a way to reawaken one of these creatures and is using it to kill people."

Padma pushed away from the table. "Ridiculous!"

Harry stood to his full height. "Fine, then answer me this Ms. Patil." He flicked his fingers one at a time. "Something is driving men mad enough to claw out their own eyes. Something with clawed hands is ripping those very same men's hearts from their chest. Something was possibly wounded by some sort of Holy Sword leaving its blood or whatever passes for blood as charred remains on the very same sword."

Still flicking his fingers he pressed on. "We know that Myerson did a DNA analysis of the blood and probably found out that it was not of this earth or at the very least an unknown quantity. We also know that he turned to Miskatonic U for answers." He set his hands on the table and leaned in. "It's a duck, Padma."

The Indian girl's face collapsed to disbelief. "What the hell are you talking about, Harry?"

He stood once more and shoved his hands in his pockets. "If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck…"

Manspark finished. "Then odds are it's a duck."

"Then by your own admission," said Padma defensively. "It could be a dark creature summoned and controlled by specific person or persons and not some mythic demon from beyond."

Harry shrugged. "Oh, I suppose it's possible, but highly unlikely. We're talking about hundreds of years here Padma. My guess is that there was someone back around 1795 that messed with something he wasn't supposed to and the officers of the Order of the Bath are paying for it to this day. Besides there was no magical residue at the scene of the crime, and also no physical evidence around the scene. Whatever killed Myerson somehow appeared in his room killed him and disappeared leaving nothing but his blood and a mangled body behind."

Manspark looked like he had had enough. "What is the next plan of action, Sir Harry?"

Harry pointed at the journal. "We follow the clues, travel to MU to try to figure out what Myerson was after and determine what it is we are fighting. Then I kill it and possibly bring whoever is responsible to justice – if they're not already dead yet."

After Manspark secured his and Padma's passport they walked downstairs to one of the back entrances and were met by, what Harry assumed was the same limousine that brought him to the palace. The Auror cursed at the sword in a futile attempt to sit comfortably with a two and a half foot length of bronze hanging from his left hip. As a final resort he unhooked it and tossed it a Padma.

 "I feel ridiculous enough walking around in Muggle London wearing robes, you can carry that."

She rolled her eyes with a slight bit of distain and set the sword between her legs.

"Sir Rupert, tell me about the next set of murders," he said as a way to pass the time to the airport.

Manspark looked away from the window he was gazing listlessly through. "1936," he said as he closed his eyes briefly to recall the pertinent information. "The eve of the inscription ceremony…"

"The what?" interrupted Harry.

Manspark looked mildly irritated at being cut off. "Your knighting was out of the ordinary, Sir Harry. Normally there is an inscription ceremony to officially knight chosen candidates. However the choice is ultimately upon the discretion of the Monarch."

"Gotcha."

Seeing Harry's acknowledgement of understanding Manspark proceeded. "The eve of the inscription ceremony the Scarlet Rod, Genealogist, Deputy Secretary, and Registrar were dining in a private room at a restaurant in London. When the staff went in to serve the third course they found all of them dead."

Harry's eyes shot wide. "All of them at once?"

Manspark nodded.

"And nobody heard anything?"

"Nothing."

Harry leaned his head back and pondered the occurrence before asking his next question. "How were they found?"

"Excuse me?"

"How were they found? What happened? Did all of them die sitting down with their heads in their soup or maybe hanging from the chandelier?"

Manspark's eyes narrowed. "As the others, mutilated and their hearts ripped out."

After shaking his head Harry leaned forward. "Were they all mutilated in the same way?"

Taken aback, Manspark thought about it. "I don't know."

Padma interrupted. "What difference does it make, Harry?"

"Patterns, Modus Operandi," he clarified. "It might help identify the creature or it might help determine how or when the next murder will occur. There are always patterns. We just don't see them yet."

An intercom beeped and the voice of the driver came over. "Sir Rupert we've arrived at the main concourse."

"Harry, I can't carry this through the airport," Padma said as she passed the sword to the Auror.

With a grimace Harry took reattached the sword and used his cloak to cover the weapon. It wouldn't do to create an incident with security. They exited the limousine and made their way through building to a punch key locked door where Harry entered a code and proceeded through with his companions.

They were met on the other side by what anyone would consider Muggle security guards. He flashed his Auror badge and they were let through to another room.  Manspark raised an eye at the simple blandness of the small room.

A lone desk stood near the door manned by a single aged wizard who looked up at the party's entrance.

"Mr. Potter, a pleasure to see you again. Where to this time?"

Harry nodded to the wizard. "The States, Massachusetts. Destination is Arkham."

The wizard stood and motioned them to a three foot square map hanging on the wall. He withdrew his wand and tapped the map. "Arkham, Massachusetts, United States."

The map flashed and displayed the state in the center highlighting Arkham and Boston.

"The closest I can get you would be Boston. You'll be able to Apparate from there," he noted. He looked at Manspark and at Padma before turning his eyes to Harry. "You'll need to transfigure your robes to something more pedestrian. You know how the Americans are about fitting in."

A few moments later and Harry was wearing a black trench coat similar in length and color to his robes. "Better?"

"Much," the wizard acknowledged. "Passports please," he said as he gestured to Manspark and Padma. After handing them over they were inspected and handed back. "Very good."

He gestured to the far wall. "Step this way." Once the wizard reached the wall he lifted his wand and made a downward motion. "Revealio!"

The illusion covering the wall melted away and revealed a four foot wide doorway or sorts. They couldn't see the other side of the door for the complete absence of light. It appeared, for all intents and purposes, a doorway to nothing.

"First time, Sir Rupert?" asked Harry.

The elder knight nodded his head as he steeled himself against the unknown. "Yes."

Harry held out his arm. "Just hold on to my forearm and don't let go until we arrive."

Manspark looked down at Harry's arm and back up to the door before grabbing a hold. His grip tightened to an almost painful level and Harry pulled away. "Relax, you aren't going to get lost or anything. If you let go you'll just bounce back to the beginning."

Manspark nodded again and took a firm grip of Harry's forearm.

"Just walk like you're strolling through the gay bar in your Japanese schoolgirl outfit – except not so gay," Harry smirked and looked back at Padma. "I do have a reputation to protect."

Before Manspark was able to comment Harry pulled him through the portal.

Arriving on the other side of the portal, Manspark stumbled but caught himself. His eyes were wide and panicked for a moment before he saw the room around him and the lettering above the door against the far wall that read: Welcome to Boston.

A wizard at a very similar desk as the previous office set down a magazine and stood with a bored look on his face. "Welcome to Boston. Passport's please."

As Harry retrieved his Auror Badge he heard Padma arrive. The wizard reviewed the attached credentials and handed them back to Harry. "Here on official business, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, then maybe a little wine and dancing. Sir Rupert here has quite the reputation with the Foxtrot, I hear."

The wizard gave Harry a penetrating look. "If you are here for leisure, Mr. Potter, then you will be required to show a regular passport."

Harry looked at Manspark and then at Padma. "Is this a government thing with the no humor?" He sighed. "We're here on official business."

"Destination," the wizard yawned as he inspected and stamped the two passports.

"Miskatonic University. We'll probably only be here for the day," answered Harry. "Maybe one night."

The passports were returned and they were pointed to the closest Apparition point. They pulled up the necessary Apparition travel information from the helpful wizard stationed at the desk outside of the Embark/Disembark room.

"Grab on one more time, Sir Rupert," said Harry as he offered his arm. "Manspark grabbed on as he did before and Harry clamped a hand over his. Harry gave him an evil grin. "I promise this will be more uncomfortable than the last trip we made."

He pulled Manspark into a spin and they Disapparated. Their world solidified around them at the Entrance Hall of MU and Manspark went weak at his knees gasping for air. A loud crack of Apparition later and Padma joined them.

Harry looked around the area and then at Padma. "Any idea where were going?"

"The library."

They received directions at the information desk and walked across campus to an ancient gothic building. The color had returned to Manspark's face by the time they made it down to the Special Section located in the basement level.  

The Special Section at MU was world renowned for its massive collection of esoteric mystical works. Separating the library from the door stood a long wooden counter where the SS librarian stood sentinel as he whet about whatever SS librarians do when not being pestered by people wanting to use their collection.

"May I help you?" he opened as he glanced at Padma with a peculiar eagerness. One could almost assume that he didn't get out much, or at the very least didn't get to see very many attractive women in his hidey hole in the basement.

Padma stepped forward and produced the journal. She set it on the counter and opened to a marked page. "Hi," she said as she produced a flirtatious smile. "We're here on an official capacity attached to the British Ministry of Magic."

She turned the journal around and pointed out a section. "Sunday last, Sir Walter Myerson requested these materials and was refused. We'd like to the opportunity to see them in regards to his murder."

The bored look on the librarian's face switched to defensive shock. "Murder?"

Harry reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved his Auror badge. Holding it out for intimidation purposes he gave the librarian a stern look. "This is official Auror business. I would appreciate your cooperation."

The librarian's eyes darted from the badge to Harry's face and then to the journal. He nodded and then pointed to an adjacent door. "Through there. Pick a workroom. I'll bring them to you."

Harry flipped his credentials closed and gave the man an appreciative nod. "Thanks."

"All of this," Manspark said as he leaned back in his chair to stretch his neck after three hours of constant study. "Well its quite disturbing."

Harry rubbed at his eyes and noted the time. "I'm starving."

Padma looked up and screwed up her face. "How can you eat after reading some of this?"

Harry grinned. "Gotta keep up the mythic stamina. Never know when I'll have to go all night."

She rolled her eyes in response and stood up. "I have to visit the loo. I'll be back."

"Thanks for the info," Harry shot back.

Padma's statement seemed to have sparked the need in Manspark. "I'll return as well."

"Didn't I tell you two to go before we left?"

After they left the room Harry decided to work out the kinks in his legs not to mention the numb butt that was induced by the heavy wooden chairs. His little jaunt down to the end of the hallway and back was less than productive however it gave him time to think on his readings.

There were far too many servants of the Old Ones and the Elder Gods: cults, followings, human and not so human among them. It was almost impossible to distinguish one from the other. He knew that they were no closer to finding out what was killing the officers of the Order than they were when they started.

The one book Harry, or anyone else for that matter, hadn't had the desire to open was the Nerconomicon. It was named the Book of the Dead for a reason. It was said that the tomb was written in human blood on parchment made of human flesh and bound with the author's face literally peeled from his living head. The revulsion factor alone was enough not to lay hands on the ancient book.

Contained therein was the darkest of magic used for Necromancy, summoning of evil in all of its incarnations, manipulation of the soul, and numerous other dark acts as to virtually corrupt one's soul just by its reading. No, Harry had no desire to open its pages. But he knew he would.

"HARRY!"

His head snapped up as he looked down the hall to the exit where Padma ran screaming down to him.

"It's here!" she cried.

Harry's wand was in his hand as he took off past her. "Where?" he called back. His shoulder slammed into the almost closed door slamming it open and he knew without a doubt where he needed to go. He just followed the screaming.