So, hey, look at that, it's been over a year! Um...sorry. I am a terrible human being that never updates with regularity (or at all I should say). Because, like, life, and work. Yeah... anyway, enjoy!
Side note: I watched Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them when it first came out here down under and now I'm angry at myself for moving the cast of the Man from Uncle forward in the timeline - imagine how much fun there is to be had if they all mingle in their original timeline! Totes feasible. Having said that, I might be planning something extra down the line :P
P.S. As mentioned before, I don't update regularly. What I have noticed on here and on my other stories are readers getting snippy at me for this fact. I write for fun, I do not write this for a living, and have no obligation to continue my stories other than I like to.
PPS: Well done to That Random User for correctly guessing the year! Here is a virtual cookie for you! :D
It was a dreary day that Illya woke up to. He laid in bed for a moment, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He stared up at the canopy, lit in a dim red colour from the weak sunlight that filtered through the window, and just breathed. The dorm was mostly quiet, punctuated with the occasional snore from Featherworth and the shifting sheets from the other boys.
Illya sat up in his bed and looked towards his worn duffle bag sitting atop of his trunk, already packed. His clouded mind slowly cleared the longer he stared at the leather. He sighed in irritation. Mysteries does not sit well with him, and Waverly's invitation is shrouded with it.
He swung his feet over the sides of his four poster bed to stand and went over to his trunk. Setting his bag aside, he lifted the lid and took out a pair of tan trousers, dark grey turtleneck and brown trench coat as his change of clothes for the day. He, together with Gaby and Napoleon, are much more used to the muggle clothing due to their upbringing. It certainly helps that the Muggles have much better taste and style in clothing (though Napoleon has definitely taken to some of the more elaborate and dramatic Wizarding clothes like a duck to water). He changed quickly and left with little fanfare (but not before he casted a ward on his trunk with a hex embedded in it - could never be too careful though he doubts anyone is stupid enough to rummage through his belongings). After changing, Illya took his bag and set off for the Prefect's bathrooms, having decided for a morning shower in preparation for the journey ahead. After climbing out the portrait of the Fat Lady, Illya went down two flights of (surprisingly obedient) stairs to the fifth floor, and made a beeline towards the door with the gleaming gold plaque that proclaimed it to be the Prefect's Bathroom next to Boris the Bewildered.
"Morning Glory."
The door remain closed.
Illya sighed irritably. Someone else had beaten him to the bathroom then. Perhaps it's Lee - she's the only other Prefect that would wake up before 9am on a Sunday. Hopefully the Ravenclaw is nearing the end of her bath, he thought as he knocked on the heavy door.
"Yeah?"
A distinctly unfeminine and very familiar voice called out. Illya rolled his eyes. Typical.
"How much longer will you be needing, Cowboy?"
"Ah, Peril! Thinking to take advantage of this lovely bath too, are you?" Solo's much-too-chipper voice replied, muffled by the door in between them. "Although I just got here myself, I'm afraid."
Illya sighed again. "I will come back in half an hour then."
"Nonsense! We have a train to catch - just join me now. More efficient."
Before Illya could say another word the door clicked open an inch. Staring at the open door, he looked down at his father's old watch, showing it's 8 o'clock already and ticking. It might be too rushed to take his bath after Solo since the train for London is at 9...
"Feeling shy, Peril?" Napoleon's amused voice floated out.
Illya shoved open the door, then slammed it closed and re-locked it once he stepped through. Through the multi-coloured bubbles drifting in the air, Illya could see the Slytherin was lounging on one side of the sunken bath, submerged with the water lapping gently against his collarbone, his elbows resting on the edges with his hands dangling into the bubbles. Napoleon quirked a dark brow at him in amusement and looked pointedly at his clothes.
"Better start stripping Peril, else you won't make it to breakfast, much less the train."
"I don't need breakfast." Illya grumped at him, but grudgingly turned his back to the other and pulled his shirt over his head. Napoleon hummed behind him - whether in acknowledgement of his statement or for something else he doesn't know. Opening his bag, he stuffed his shirt in and took out his washcloth. Back still turned, he stripped with military precision and stowed them away into the bag to keep them dry from the damp floor. The washcloth was just long enough to tie around his waist - he'd rather not have the American commenting on his junk if he could help it. Placing the bag down on the floor, Illya turned back to the bath and stepped in.
"You are being surprisingly quiet, Cowboy."
Solo seemed to shake himself out of a daze and grinned lopsidedly at him. "Just admiring the view."
Illya rolled his eyes. Bringing the wet washcloth up, he started scrubbing his neck and arms.
"What do you think Waverly wants to talk to us about?"
Solo shrugged and took his elbows off the bath edge to submerge deeper into the water.
"Hell if I know, Peril. Gaby's uncle has always been secretive."
"More secretive now that he's gotten that promotion of his last year. Chop shop girl doesn't even know where he is half the time."
"So his work must be either highly boring or highly confidential then." Napoleon shrugged. He splashed his face with water for a bit before announcing without fanfare. "I'm going down."
Illya barely had enough time to bring his washcloth back down into the water so it covered his crotch before Napoleon submerged himself to wash his hair. It was barely a second later that Napoleon flailed and brought himself back out, coughing and cursing. Illya raised his eyebrows at him.
"You forgot you can't breathe underwater, Cowboy?"
Napoleon shook his head violently and pointed at the other end of the huge sunken bath.
"Mrytle!" He choked out.
"What?!"
As if on cue, a pearly white form of a girl shot out of the water, giggling girlishly.
"How long have you been down there?" Illya scowled at the ghost.
"Hmmm long enough." Behind her thick glasses, Moaning Mrytle batted her eyelashes at them.
"What did you think you were doing down there, Mrytle?!" Napoleon frowned at the deceased girl, shaking wet hair from the front of his eyes.
"Well, I was in the girl's toilets last night as usual, minding my own business - as usual! When this group of girls came in and disturbed my peace - so I hid down the U-bend but then they had the nerve to flush me! I spent the night in the pipes but got bored, so I came up to talk to the mermaid painting but you were already here and - you're not listening!"
The ghost's outraged shriek startled Napoleon out of his daze, where he had drifted off after he got his lungs free of water. "Well-"
"Ugh, why do I even bother. I've seen better anyway." Mrytle harrumphed at the Slytherin and then threw a pointed glance at Illya. Twirling around, the ghost drifted imperiously through the wall.
Illya was amused to note that when he looked back at Napoleon, his jaw was hanging open in disbelief.
"Did she just..." The brunet spluttered.
"Well, I am taller..." Illya smirked.
"Height is not indicative of its size!"
"Took you boys long enough!" Gaby said around a mouthful of bread.
"We were in the baths." Illya replied as he sat himself down next to her in the Great Hall. "Mrytle was there."
"Ah." Gaby choked back a laugh at the glum looks the boys were sprouting. "She hid in the Prefect's Bathroom again, did she?"
"Yeah, she -" Napoleon broke off and whipped his head around to stare at her. " 'Again'? How would you know about her haunting the Prefect's Bathroom? Today's the first I've witnessed or heard anything about it - I thought she just sticks to the girl's bathroom on the second floor!"
Gaby stared innocently back at the Slytherin's wide eyes. "Let's just say she's a lonely girl, and not as prickly if you're nice to her."
Before the implication of Gaby's friendly relationship with the ghost settles into Napoleon's brain, Gaby shoved a buttered bread roll into his open mouth and poured pumpkin juice for Illya at the same time. "So, you guys were in the bath together?"
Illya nodded his thanks while he picked up some eggs and sausage for himself. "Yes. Cowboy was already in there. It was the most efficient way considering we don't have long till the train leaves."
That one of the boys could have just sucked it up and used the communal bathrooms in their dorms was left unsaid. Gaby decided to let them off the hook - seeing Illya's ears that red was reward enough. The group didn't take long to eat their breakfast, and in no time the trio were out the castle and into the waiting carriages pulled by the Thestrals, their trunks bobbing along behind them and strapped themselves to the top of the carriages. The three got in, and settled back as the carriage started to move.
"When is Waverly expecting us?" Napoleon asked as he stretched his arms up, then folded his hands behind his head and slouched down in his seat.
"He'll be there at King's Cross." Gaby replied absentmindedly, busy searching for the illusive tube of lipstick that was lost somewhere in her expandable bag. Feeling eyes on her, she looked up and found two pairs of incredulous faces looking at her.
"Waverly will be at the station?" Illya furrowed his brows in suspicion.
"Yes." Gaby huffed. "Why is that so hard to believe? My uncle is picking up his niece who's been away at a boarding school for a long time."
"He stopped picking you up and dropping you off once you hit 15." Napoleon stated flatly. "It's always been either his secretary or the driver since then."
"He picked me up last Christmas!"
"Only because there was a function that was held at The National Gallery and needed you to go with him. Your dress was in his car."
Gaby threw her hands in the air in exasperation. "Fine! Fine, it's weird, but you're not going to get anywhere with me when I don't know what's going on either!"
"It is odd." Illya stated in that usual way of his. Gaby pouted at him to which the Russian stoutly ignored.
"We're just about at the station now anyways." Napoleon noted. Conversation briefly ceased as the carriage rolled up next to the station. The trio got out and levitated their trunks behind them as they hunted for empty seats. They found an empty carriage and deposited their trunks in the overhead storage shelves, then plonked down on the seats - Gaby more elegantly than the boys. As the train started moving, Napoleon started rummaging around his pockets and procured some sickles.
"Not sure about you guys, but I'm positively famished."
"You just had breakfast!" Gaby admonished.
"There is always space for dessert." The Slytherin winked back at her.
The three friends passed the rest of the train ride uneventfully. Napoleon amused himself by experimenting with the sword-fighting lock picks he ended up getting from the last Hogsmede trip, while Gaby and Illya played 3 rounds of chess - before Gaby got frustrated at losing in fast succession to Illya and demanded they play Exploding Snaps instead. Many hours, a pair of hands littered with tiny cuts and two pairs of singed eyebrows later, the trio find themselves waiting on a long bench with their belongings in front of the ever-busy King's Cross station for their ride.
"He is late." Illya stated half an hour later.
"it is rather unusual..." Gaby fidgeted while squinting at the dark clouds gathering in the sky. "Uncle Waverly is almost never late."
Before she even finished the sentence, a stately black car pulled up smoothly in front of them, the two parked cars that was there parted ways and the curb magically lengthened to make way for it. The traffic continued on, not one muggle in the busy street batted an eye.
"I think he's here." Napoleon drawled as the driver side door opened, and a man in a steel grey three piece suit stepped out. The man had short, dark hair gently coifed to the side, a pair of modern horn rim glasses, and a stern countenance. His face broke into a welcoming smile, however, when he saw his much younger cousin that he fondly look to as his niece, and walked towards them with his arms out by his sides.
"Gaby, my dear, how are you?"
The girl leapt to her feet and embraced Waverly in a quick hug. "Good! I'm very well!"
She leaned back and frowned up at the older man. "You were quite late, however - what's happened?"
"Ah, nothing to worry about, my dear girl - terribly sorry about that, just got held back by some work." Waverly stepped back, and held his hand out to Illya, then to Napoleon, for hand shakes. "How are you gentlemen? Well, I hope."
"Yes, Mr Waverly." Illya replied, standing for the handshake.
Napoleon, on the other hand, shook the older man's hand distractedly by a detail he noted on Waverly's tie, and stared.
"Mr Waverly... is that a spell scorch on your tie?"