Chapter One: A Family Favor
A large grandfather clock ticked past 7:25 in the corner of a small apartment. Darrel Young sat in a tall, wing backed chair facing a television set. He was in his late twenties but had a disposition that made him seem much older. His legs were crossed and his hands were folded over a long-thin rod of wood. On the television was a local newscast reporting a slew of disappearances from the downtown area in the last week.
A table sat next to the chair and on it was a piece of parchment folded in three among several magazines and a large coffee table book. Darrel had read over the letter a few times upon his return from a nice vacation a week ago. He had hoped that the letter had said anything but what he knew would be on it: a notification of his parents' periodic visits.
Darrel had taught at Drouillard Academy of Magic for four years. His parents still insisted on visiting him every season since he graduated from the same Academy and moved out at age seventeen.
Darrel flicked his wand at the TV and it clicked off. A kitchen sat off to the side of the main room and he got up from the chair and made his way over to it. The apartment itself was a strange compilation of the mundane and the bizarre. Had a Muggle walked in, they would find themselves half-way assimilated and half-way lost. Darrel's apartment was furnished with a few wing-backed chairs and a small modern love seat.
One wall was dominated by a large television that was flanked by a hundred year-old grandfather clock. The table at the center of the room was covered in magazines, some of the covers were dormant, others moved. The kitchen was mostly modern Muggle, although the dishes in the sink were currently being scrubbed by a floating sponge.
Darrel remembered the letter and how his father, Abraham, insisted that he find a way to install a fireplace despite how it would look if he had a fireplace large enough to walk into in a one-bedroom apartment. Because of this, and his father's insistence on travel by Floo Powder, meant that his father and mother would be coming to him by way of shooting out of his oven covered in green flames.
Darren checked the grandfather clock that was visible from the kitchen, which read 7:30. He leaned down and opened the oven as the second hand reached twelve and took a step back. Almost immediately, a flash of green light came from the oven and a man shot feet first from it and skidded across the floor.
Darrel offered a hand and helped the man off the floor. The man's relation to Darrel was immediately apparent; his face was nearly the same, but slightly longer and with a stronger jaw. His hair was cut close to his head and he had a short goatee. He stood up and shook Darrel's hand.
"Good to see you, Darrel," his father said.
"Good to see you too, Dad."
Then, another flash of light and another person came from the oven, this time head first. However, instead of a petite woman as Darrel had expected, another man had come from it.
"Uncle Mal?" Darrel asked.
"Abe, did you see that? I told you I could come out head-first." Mal rushed Darrel and gripped him in a long-armed hug. "How you doing, Dare?" Malachi Young was Abraham's younger brother and sported a much longer haircut that his brother did.
"I'm great Uncle Mal. What are you doing here?" Darrel asked.
"Well, let's wait for your brother."
"Sam's coming too?"
A last flash of green light and another man came from the over. He slid out gracefully and jumped to his feet. He was a more muscular Darrel with a longer face like his father. Abraham, Mal and Sam walked to the living room and took up the three chairs surrounding the table.
"Sit down, son," Abraham said from the tallest of the chairs.
"What about mom?"
"She's not coming."
"Why not?" Darrel asked.
"Sit down and we'll tell you, idiot," said Sam.
Darrel didn't quite understand but he shut the oven and plopped down on the love seat that sat opposite the chairs.
"What's going on?" Darrel asked.
Abraham shifted in his chair. He seemed uncomfortable in the situation. It was odd for him. Darrel was used to the hardened Auror that he had been raised with. They didn't call him Stonewall Abe for nothing. "Well, Darrel, we want you to do something for us."
"For the family?" Darrel asked.
"No, for the office."
"For the Aurors?"
"Yes," Abraham answered. He eyed Darrel as if he was sizing him up, a frequent feeling Darrel had when he was around his father.
"Dad…"
"Listen, Dare," Mal interrupted, "We know that you don't want to be an Auror. You're a professor and we…" Mal glanced at Abe, "I understand that. We're just asking for a favor, that's all."
"What's the favor?"
"Son," Abe started, "we want you to be our man on the inside of Drouillard."
"Man on the inside? For what?"
"Does it matter?" Sam asked. He was slouched over in his chair.
"I think it does," Darrel answered.
"The commissioner thinks that Drouillard will be a hot bed for recruitment." Abe said.
"Recruitment for what? Dad, if you want me to do something for you guys, you need to tell me what's happening."
"We can't," Sam goaded.
"Sam, shut it," Abe said. "You've heard about the disappearances, right?"
Darrel nodded. He was interested now. There had been quite a few Muggle disappearances lately and he had wondered if it had anything to do with the magical community.
"There is a group of people who are kidnapping Muggles and using them as slaves. We have no idea where they came from or why they want to enslave these Muggles but they are and it is spreading."
Darrel could remember a number of old families who were famous for keeping Muggles as slaves a long time ago but he had been told that these families had died out almost as soon as America became an actual country.
"Because of the proximity to the school, the commissioner is concerned that Drouillard may be a place that this...whatever it is, will spread to."
"Dad, are you sure you want to put me on this?"
"We've talked about it a lot," Mal answered, "and we want to use you strictly as a informant."
"What does that mean?"
"Well, you're still a teacher primarily,"
"No, I'm sorry Mal, I'm still a teacher, only." Darrel answered. He had been afraid of this; he didn't want to juggle two jobs. He wanted to teach and that's all. This was just another attempt to convert him into an Auror.
"No, Dare, listen. You won't be alone. We didn't want to put this all on you," Mal said.
"Who else will be with me?"
"We'll be sending an Auror to keep an eye on things and get into the investigation deep if need be," Abe said.
"Oh, well than," Darrel started. This actually didn't seem like a bad idea. He loved his family, disappointed in his career choice though they may be. If he could do them a favor he would. "What's the guy's name?"
"What guy?" Sam asked.
"The one that will be helping me out?"
"Her," Mal answered. "You'll be helping her."
Sam laughed.
"What?" Darrel asked.
"I don't know, Mal, I think she's too crazy to be a 'her'," Sam said.
"Sam, shut it," Abe said.
Darrel and his relatives spent the rest of the night talking specifics and conversing about the family. Darrel tried to explain his curriculum for the year but Abe and Sam quickly shot that conversation down. Finally, he watched as three grown men climbed into his oven and disappeared into green flames. He returned to the living room and sat down in one of the chairs in front of the TV. He wondered how this year would be, his past four being rather dull and lifeless; it's how he liked it. He wondered why this year it had to be different.
