REBELS WITHOUT A CAUSE
Summary: He´s the punk, outcast son of the Saudi Arabian Black dynasty. She´s the lawless undercover Venatrix assigned to do whatever it takes to identify the kidnappers of Mary MacDonald and Qin Nguyen, even if that means making a play for the Gryffindor with the very dodgy last name.
CHAPTER ONE
Three mannequins charge towards her from the opposite wall of the lengthy room. Bash holds her raised wand tightly. The ginger sprints ahead of the other two, quick on its feet.
She taps her wand, counting calmly: one, two, three – she aims at his knees – DEPRIMO! The first mannequin knocks down onto his shattered kneecaps. EXPULSIO, she thinks, blasting the head off the body.
An electric blue curse zig-zaggs at her, Bash blocks it with a wave. Her pulse thumps in her ears, palms sweating. She shoots a disarming spell the blonde´s way. The mannequin dodges it in a mocking manner. Without consideration, she casts the same spell again and it hits the black haired mannequin´s shield.
All of sudden, both opponents get swallowed into a cloud of thick grey smoke. The fumes irritate Bash´s eyes and stench the breathable air. She coughs violently, her jittery thoughts seeking for a solution. She doesn´t walk out of a training station without contemplating her training. She doesn't.
BUBBLE HEAD CHARM, her mind wheezes. She presses the tip of her wand against her throat and an engorged bubble engulfs her head. Bash breathes in five lungs full of air, before she manages to focus again.
They still stand there, in the fading remains of the smoke, wand-arms lifted. Purplish twin lights bolt towards her. The curses knock into her ribcage and her body slams against the brick wall behind her. A heavy, excruciating ache spreads from where her back hit the wall. She chokes and gags for air, her brown eyes bulging.
The room is silent, except for her irregular breathing. Her opponents still stand in the same position, unmoving, waiting. And her wand lays astray, two feet from her. Bash gathers up the last bits of her mental strength and accios it into her right palm. Right then, another blitzkrieg of spells starts shooting towards her. But this time she blocks them, despite the soreness.
She forces herself back on her feet and leans against the wall for support. Another curse is hurled at her, PROTEGO. Her entire body goes rigid with a bolt of frustration that in a nanosecond turns to fury.
Her wand point focuses on the blonde mannequin. REDUCTO. The foe explodes and crumbles into a pitiful heap on the floor. Two down, Bash thinks, one to go. She coolly repeats the spell on his partner in crime. Finally satisfied, she slides down the indestructible-charmed wall.
Her reddish-brown skin glistens with sweat, her leg hurts, her bones are heavy and muscles strained. Eyes pressing closed, she struggles to breathe evenly.
The door to her right clicks open and her eyelids snap back. "Elvis´ sweaty balls, what did you do to the triplets?"
"Venatrix Winther," Bash recognizes, tiredly smiling. Vionnet Winther is a pale, bony trainee the Four Horsemen accepted last year. Taller than Bash, with coiffed black bangs, pigtails and large carrot coloured doe eyes. The latter ones were a tad off putting, but not unusual. Vionn normally matches her eyes with her plateau shoes and she owns a shit-ton of those.
Holding her coral-red, leather clad hand out for her, Vionnet says: "Vice Minister Laskaris is here. Barry told me to get you."
Bash remembers the Vice Minister; a middle-aged Greek Lady, the left side of her face scarred ugly. She is a sugar-coating woman and very manipulative, just as her job requires.
Accepting Vionnet´s help, her sticky hand grabs a towel as both slip out of the training station. She wipes her face clean from sweat pearls and the remains of the busted bubble, and ties her caramel dyed hair back into a puff.
Vionnet´s heels still click beside her when she heads for Barcyl´s office. "You comin´ in too?"
"No, I´ll be heading home," she announces. Behind her, rose-red sunlight flickers between the flint-grey jalousies. Bash absently nods. "Is Indian take-out alright?"
"Good with me," comes as response, "See ya later."
She wipes her hands on her sleeveless ebony overall, readjusts her bra straps and turns the doorknob, entering. Head Venator Barcyl "Barry" Severs looks up from the papers spread between him and the Vice Minister. He is a black-skinned, bald male, clothed in a glitzy suit with an arctic-blue tie and a silver maze tattoo adorning his whole face.
"Venatrix Latty," He points to the unoccupied stool, "Take a seat."
She sits, and Laskaris chair angles to her. "Miss Latty, it´s nice seeing you again."
The scar takes all the attention away from her possibly pretty face, Bash notices. It runs from near the woman´s left temple, across her warm ochre cheek to twist the left corner of her mouth. The Vice Minister doesn´t conceal it in any way, her shine less hickory brown hair is in a tight bun and her makeup mainly focuses on eyes and lips. Yet she still holds a proud posture.
"You too, Vice Minister," the words sound unfriendly coming from Bash´s mouth. Like a dressed up fuck you, for example.
Evadne Laskaris´ sangria red lips don´t twitch an inch. But then again, it might be the Botox puffing them up.
"I came here to offer you a case, Miss–"
"Venatrix," Bash corrects.
"Venatrix Latty," she apologizes and Bash finds her smile irking, as in very punch-able.
She sees the greenish roots of the veins pop on Laskaris´ clenching hand, laying stiff on the arm of the chair. The corner invisible to the Vice Minister tugs into a smirk.
Barry shoots her a threatening glare. "Vice Minister Laskaris came with a matter concerning Venator Nguyen and Hogwarts student Mary MacDonald."
Bash´s lips drop into a line at the mention of her partner.
"As you know," Laskaris takes over, her eyes scanning the papers, "Venator Nguyen was assigned to identify and arrest Voldemort´s recruits at Hogwarts. Black, Mulciber and Avery were his main suspects… But only two weeks into the case – on the 27th May, after the 6th Match of the Inter-house Quidditch Cup had occurred, the Venator and the Muggleborn Sixth Year Mary MacDonald vanished. The Ministry suspects abduction. Of course there are oth–"
"Vice Minister," Bash interrupts, "I worked on this case. Qin Nguyen was my partner. I´m well aware of all those things. Can we please jump the next few dozen chapters and get to the case at hand?"
Laskaris´ sleepy eyes look at her stupidly.
"Very well," she gives in, a hint of annoyance in her tone, "We will be sending you, or whoever accepts, to Hogwarts under the false identity of Dorcas Meadowes, an exchange student from the Beauxbatons Academy, to investigate the kidnapping of your partner and the girl."
A dossier slaps the metal-desk in front of her. She skims through the first page of her new identity.
Name: Dorcas Meadowes
Born: 4thApril 1959 in Yverdon-les-Bains, Switzerland
Race: African-American/Swiss
Blood Status: Muggleborn
Occupation: Student
Mother: Mercury Meadowes
Father: Henry Bellerose
Siblings: None
"I trust your French is half passable?" Laskaris testily asks.
"Mais oui." French is a rather pornographic language to her, it´s like oral foreplay.
Qin and Bash had a long-term case in the Banque Parisienne pour les Gens Magiques a year ago. It surely was some ride, or multiple rides.
"You will need more than that," the Vice Minister comments, regarding her short nails.
By now, Bash has to fight really fucking hard to stay in control of her actions and not throttle the second most important Politician in the Wizarding Community. Really, really fucking hard.
"Vice Minister Laskaris, I wouldn´t have suggested Venatrix Latty if I didn´t think her capable of doing her job," Barry speaks up from the other side of the table.
"Of course I put all my trust in your judgement, Barcyl," she says sweetly, her red lips feigning a shy virginal smile. She turns to Bash. "Venatrix Latty, will you accept the case? If not, we shall find another to–"
"I accept. But wouldn´t have too much faith in finding them alive. Qin´s been my partner on the field for years. Whoever it was, they didn´t catch him alive. And without him, what chances of survival has she got?"
-RWAC-
The side of Bash´s fist thumps against the door of her apartment. "Open the fucking door, Vionnet!"
She leans against the eggnog yellow wall, balancing her weight on the healthy leg. Tears of sweat roll from her neck and down her spine. The inside of this building feels like a bloody greenhouse in Puerto Rico, stuffy with too many hard working, underpaid Puerto Ricans in it.
"VIONNET!" she shouts, knocking harder. "If you don´t open the bloody door right now, I´ll take my leg off and knock the teeth outta your head with it!"
"Who´s there?" Vionn provocatively asks from the opposite side of the door.
"Bloody Morgana. Who the fuck d´ya think it is?"
"Alright, quick question. What did I turn into on my job interview?"
"Elvis fucking Presley," Bash hisses through her teeth.
Vionnet´s keys jingle and the barrier is finally gone. She hobbles into the room, avoiding using her new prosthesis too much. An arm snakes under her wet armpit to support her. "You alright?"
"No," she grunts in reply, "Fucking blisters again."
She plops into the black leather couch gracelessly and fumbles in her bag for the wand she had slipped in there. Water runs in the kitchen. Bash pats the hawthorn wand against her knee and carefully removes the prosthetic leg with a crunched-up expression. It might look realer than her last one, due to a few beauty charms, but the pain is un-fucking-bearable.
She throws it on the opposite end of the couch and slumps back. "Get the wine out, I gotta work you into a case tonight."
Vionnet paces back into the living room, a dripping towel in her hand. "Case?! You´re taking the piss, right?" She stares at Bash with large, hopeful, ballet-slipper-pink eyes.
"Nope."
"Holy shite, my first case!" A grin stretches her lips up to her cheekbones. Quite a creepy look on someone who isn´t a cartoon cat.
"Jesus Christ, stop with the face," She simpers at her roommate and snatches the towel from her, "You´re gonna be the Stationary Venator."
The Venators and Venatrixes of the Four Horsemen never work alone. One Venator investigates, the other, the Stationary Venator, remains at the Headquarters gathering the information the first Venator delivers. It´s a back-up, in case something goes wrong, we still have the knowledge we had before. Like with Qin.
"How´d you even get Barry to consider me?"
"Said you needed the experience," Bash shrugs and covers her stump with the cold material. She still puts a cooling charm on it, though.
"Wow, that´s like the nicest thing you´ve ever done for me," her tone sounds suspicious, unbelieving. She sits down next to Bash. "Thanks?"
"Oi, that ain´t true. I let you crash in my bed."
Vionn´s slender white fingers ruffle scalp-deep into her dark blonde ringlets as she coos: "Aww aren´t you just the most precious thug in all of England."
"Fuck off," Bash chuckles and swats the hand away, "Now, where´s the Vindaloo I got promised?"
She climbs over the back pillows, into the paltry, pistachio-green tiled kitchen and reappears five minutes later, balancing two plastic dishes, two glasses and one bottle of red wine.
"So," Vionnet begins when they were half-way through the Vindaloo, "Where to?"
"Scotland."
Her white-blonde eyebrows crease.
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Bash explains, muffled by a mouthful of food.
"Hogwarts, really? I never would´ve imagined the day I´d see you going to school. I mean, willingly." The metamorphmagus teases, piling the plastic dishes.
"Never imagined the day I´d be allowed to step into one, either." She licks the alcohol from the corner of her lips and smirks at the memory.
A/N: So I this idea popped into my head a few months ago and after a lot of planning I finally wrote the first chapter. So it´d be nice if you´d tell me what you think in a Review! I´ll most likely update next week, already being halfway through the second chapter.
