Constant vigilance, that was what Alastor always said. Dumbledore hadn't fought in far too long, he had forgotten all the lessons he'd learnt in war, had grown complacent in times of peace.
And now, here he was making up for his mistakes. It had been difficult and a bit painful but he'd scavenged through all the instruments that had broken in his office, found the little bit of Harry's blood he still had, and taken apart his Deluminator to create a tracking device. Harry was moving at a furious pace, Dumbledore couldn't tell if it was by magical means or muggle but he was moving, and the tracker couldn't latch on to a single location. But for all that Dumbledore had forgotten about constant vigilance, he hadn't forgotten patience. And that was exactly what was needed now. Because sooner or later Harry and whoever had taken him would stop and that was when Dumbledore would strike.
But this was not something he could do alone, or indeed, do himself. The maps he was poring over told him that Harry was moving over Muggle ways, and Dumbledore may have been touted as a Muggle lover but he was sorely ignorant about the ways of it. Discretion was needed, and that was something he never had.
Kingsley and Moody were the best choices he had. Kingsley's assignments often had him interacting with Muggle police, and Moody would keep the man from underestimating the Muggles. Another time, and he would have an entire squad ready in minutes. But alas, the Weasley's brood was too young, William the only one of age and Arthur's obsession with the Muggle world would distract him far too easily. Remus might have been someone he considered in another time, but he feared that the young werewolf would never trust him, never forgive him if he found out that Dumbledore had lost James and Lily's son, and Severus' absence from Hogwarts would be noticed, especially since the Aurors still kept an eye on his whereabouts.
The same reasons kept him from involving Minerva in this, for all that no one in the entirety of England was more qualified for this hunt than her. Her knowledge of the Muggle world was impeccable, kept up to date with her multitude of visits to Muggleborns, and Dumbledore knew well that she was someone to fear in a fight.
But if she found out about Harry he was afraid the only person she'd engage in a fight would be him.
No, Alastor and Kingsley it was. A covert operation the likes of which they had never used before, the war with Voldemort always fought out in the open. In silence, he passed the Deluminator over to Alastor and in silence they left.
And again, Dumbledore waited.
It wasn't quite sleep that Wick was woken from. He knew well enough how to exist between the states of slumber and waking so that he wouldn't lose his mind to hyper awareness, nor be so unaware as to be caught off guard. His half closed eyes opened fully and took in the scene from outside the window. There was nothing there, not exactly. But the shadows were off, deeper than they should have been in places, and they moved too much in some places, too little in others.
'Expect the impossible', Winston had said when he'd last gone to settle his bills and debts. 'Where you're going...let's just say things are a bit more obvious than in other places.'
And it had been strange to hear. Winston was many things, vague and cryptic weren't them.
Now, as he prepared for a fight with seemingly invisible folk, thought perhaps Winston was being as clear as he could without seeming mad.
John woke Harry, and had him hide in the bathroom. Harry didn't ask any questions even as Wick pulled his guns out, even as the hilt of a knife caught his green eyes as John shifted in his jacket. But before he went, he made sure to arrange the pillows to look conspicuously like a child, the black sweater they bought the day before, shoved under the covers and quickly arranged to imitate his nest like hair.
Smart boy. They'd see how well it deceived their new friends, if it did so at all. The shifting sounds of the young boy stopped as he settled in the bathroom and once John shifted into the shadows, all that was left to do was wait.
He heard them before he saw them. A low thunk, conspicuous to the point that made Wick wonder. Was it on purpose, to distract him? To make him underestimate them?
Then came a whisper, something that sounded oddly like 'Aloha', and then the door swung open. He couldn't see them, but they still cast faint shadows, the places where they should have been looked a bit hazy, as if Wick had set fire to the place and the heat was refracting the light.
Even if it wasn't for that he would notice them, they were incredibly noisy to his ears that were used to keeping a lookout for assassins that made no sound. Creaking sounds as if they were clutching wood, the sound of footsteps only barely muffled by falling on plush carpet, breaths accompanied by a whistling sound as if one of them was recovering from a cold, and an almost overwhelming swish of fabric.
Obvious was the word Winston had used. It was apt.
John waited. He could take them out easily enough right then but he wanted to see just what he was up against. 'Sometimes when I want things to happen, they do,' Harry had said. What did these two want to happen then?
"Kingsley," came a rough voice, "Check the bedroom. Run diagnostics, I want to know everything that happened in this place in the last two days."
"I'll have to drop the disillusionment charms." Came the answer, the voice almost quiet, but laden with authority. Probably a cop of some kind.
"I'll cover you." The other said, and the 'charms' as the other called them dropped. Wick got a good look at the two, the way they moved, the way they held their 'weapons', the odd gnarled sticks.
One was a soldier, the other a cop. And both wouldn't be able to do much to him, Wick knew. The soldier knew brute strength, the cop was the good cop type and would hesitate, try to incapacitate him rather than go for the kill.
Neither would present much of a challenge.
Kingsley moved to the bedroom, and the second he was out of earshot the soldier turned to where Wick stood in the shadows. One eye was a bright electric blue, unnaturally so, but the eye itself looked to be organic, not a glass or plastic thing like John had seen before. If it wasn't for the way it whizzed about John would have thought it was his real eye, that the man simply had some heterochromia. And then there was the way it suddenly stopped moving to focus on him.
No, Wick understood well enough that this was some kind of Magic too. They man was carefully scrutinising him and when he opened his mouth to speak, John moved.
A red light flew out from the stick but it was far too slow. Wick dodged it and his hand flew out as the man tried to compensate for it, jabbing quickly at the man's throat so he could make no more sound to alarm his companion, before tweaking the right pressure points to render him unconscious. Another time, and John would have killed him but he needed information on Harry's magic and besides, he didn't want Harry to see him kill, not just yet. It was inevitable, but Wick would rather delay it as far as he could.
A quick check under the man's eyelids told him that the magical eye had stopped moving, and this, more than anything else, told him that it was safe to let the man stay knocked out like that while he dealt with the other.
The other one was even easier to deal with. His back was turned to John, and he had no magic eye to warn him. A blow to his head, and he was down for the count.
As far as fights went, it was disappointing.
Then again, a retired man like Wick shouldn't have been thinking of fights at all.
He tied the two up, taking their sticks from them, wands he realised. Their pockets were emptied, their voluminous dresses carefully checked for any and everything they might have.
There were many strange things they carried. A bag that looked like any other coin purse but when Wick put his fingers in it to see what it carried, his entire arm slipped in. He emptied it out to find gold, silver and bronze coins, a Malay newspaper, a map of places in London that Wick had passed before but never seen, and lastly a lighter.
It threw him off. Lighters were useful of course, but they were such a mundane thing. He didn't think that a person who could turn invisible would have difficulty starting a bit of a flame. It was suspicious.
John flicked it open and instead of a little flame, a red light emerged. It looked like a laser pointer and he saw that it was aimed straight at the bathroom where Harry was hiding.
"You alright there, kid?" He asked, and Harry emerged from the bathroom. His eyes were wide, trained on the two tied up figures behind Wick but John himself was looking at the light from the lighter. The light that landed firmly on the left side of Harry's chest, exactly where his heart would be. He flicked the lighter close and then opened it again. The light emerged to land right there once again. John moved about the room, flicking it open and close but the target of the light remained Harry's heart.
Harry's attention had waned. While Wick tested out the lighter he went over the pile of things that John had scavenged from their visitors.
"Wicked!" He whispered, looking at the Malaysian newspaper with unabashed delight and John was confused. As far John knew, newspapers weren't quite what young boys thought 'wicked'.
"You know Malay?" John asked and the boy looked at him confused.
"No, why?"
"That paper, it's in Malay." John knew many languages, Russian, Italian, Japanese, Cantonese, Spanish etc, all the languages of the High Table. Malay was not one of them. John knew enough to recognise it though.
"It's in English," Harry said, confused, and opened the newspaper up, "And look, the photos, they're moving."
It still looked like Malay to John, and he leaned in closer to see what it was that Harry was seeing. In doing so his sleeve brushed against Harry's shoulder and the newspaper rippled, suddenly turning to English.
'The Daily Prophet' it read, with photos of people dressed like the strange magicians Wick had just incapacitated.
It seemed that Magic was stranger than Wick expected.
A/N: Sorry for the late update, I had exams and assignments and more. Thank you for all the reviews/faves/follows, your feedback is appreciated.
So, I finally got around to watching John Wick 2 and this fic is definitely not canon compliant. My headcanon for the story is basically everything related to New York and the Tarasovs, including the beginning of the second movie with Abram. As far as the fic goes, the car is too damaged for repair, Wick's last true connecting thread to Helen and his happy life in NY is lost so he goes off to live in Surrey and then the fic happens.
That said I am loving the world-building they did in Wick 2 and the High Table and Markers and all that will very probably make an appearance but the, but Santino himself and consequently the plot of Wick 2 won't be included.This will be the last sort of transition chapter, the Wizarding world interludes with Dumbledore freaking out will still be there but for the most part it's going to be set in the Wick universe.
Thank you for reading!