Chapter VIII: A Bad Trip to the Bar

Three days had passed since Dante had departed his home. From what he understood, Rosalind had put in a request to Hogwarts for some time off, and the Headmistress had allowed it. He was not certain now what his sister was up to, but Dante could not allow much thought on that subject. Today he had broken into the home of Rexula Montebottom, a respected Wizard with ties to the Gringotts banking franchise. Rexula had not been home that day, and was quite surprised an hour ago when he returned home and found much of the interior of his home in ruins. In his den on what was left of his desk there was, hovering, the image of a black eagle. The Master of Shadows had found him at last.

Rexula, in addition to his ties to the Gringotts franchise, also had less reputable ones. He had ties to the underground trade of Spell Crystals, or Spelkryst, as it was known to those who used it, and was of the opinion that he was higher up in the echelons of that business. Incorrect as Rexula may or may not have been, he did have sensitive information at his own home tying the English sales of Spelkryst to a person called The Mother. When he reached his home, Rexula discovered these documents were missing, and, when he contacted the Aurors, he made certain to leave them out of the list of damages.

Dante now sat in a shadier pub in London, drinking little and listening to the conversations going on around him. Harry Potter was going to get another medal for apprehending the Black Wind, which was a crying shame, because the Black Wind had been one of the best Dark Wizards Dante had ever known. The guy had had real honor, and that had undoubtedly been his undoing. Turned out Wind was actually none other than little Trent Gupp, a real treat there: Gupp had been a fat nobody in school, and had been hounded nonstop during all the tumultous years he went there. They said Gupp was in good shape now, but that he could expect to lose those pretty muscles where he was going.

Dante accepted another drink from the bar keep, barely glancing up from his glass. He'd only had one so far tonight, and he didn't expect to finish this one. He wanted to feel sober, wanted to feel sad about Gupp's arrest. Gupp had a son, he'd been divorced for a few years now, and had only taken the mantle back up to pay the child support, it sounded. Trent was a perfect example of what he could have been if he hadn't successfully pulled off his hostile takeover, and because of that, Dante felt the matter was worth reflecting on.

Not that he had much else to do while he waited for his appointment to make a move. The appointment was unaware she was one, and also unaware that Dante was aware of her. But then, that tended to happen when someone followed you all the way from the scene of your latest crime, through a series of stores and even a theater, to your present location, and forgot to cloak themselves in any way. Carelessness would get one nowhere these days, especially not if they were playing the Dark Magic game.

So when a faux-gruff voice behind him said, "Hey punk, yer in ma seat!" Dante did nothing at first. After another prod from the gruff voice's wand, Dante whipped out of his chair and, in a fluid movement, was now facing the voice, carrying its wand in his hand. As a lad he would never have pulled off that feat. Now, though, now he was an elemental force of the world, and there was nothing he could not do.

Mercedes scowled and put her hands to her hips. She was not impressed. So what if he could take her wand without magic? What was the point? She never could understand the workings of her half-brother's brain, but then, she had far less contact with him than her step-brother, who had, during the earlier years, monopolized him. Those days were over, though, and for tonight, the boy was her's.

"Edmond, whatever are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at home, lording it up with all your ill-gotten gains?" Asked Mercedes as she twiddled with her hair. She resembled her father in some ways, but could never be certain if that was a good thing or not. She certainly didn't want to look like her mother, that she knew, but her father had been no less impressive when he had been alive, and to Mercedes, impression was everything.

"Shouldn't you be somewhere, getting married for profit?" Retorted Dante. "You've been following me all day, so what is it you're looking for?"

If he'd expected Mercedes to look surprised about being caught, he would have been sorely disappointed. She almost seemed to laughing to herself about it, like she'd meant for him to think he was so clever seeing her follow him. This thought Dante shrugged off, caring little whether he'd been duped or not.

"Who says I want anything? Maybe I'm just interested in the well being of my little brother."

"I'd find that easier to believe if we weren't related."

"Oh, you and your paranoia. When are you going to get over it, Eddie? Yes, the House burned down, so what? You're alive, and you're rich. Shouldn't that be enough?"

"Mercedes, unless what you say next is very important, I will kill you with your own wand."

Mercedes stopped a second, trying to decide if the boy was capable of it or not, and, deciding he wasn't, she said, "Come now, how about I buy you a drink, you hand me back my wand, and we discuss this like the adults we both are."

"Adults? You're nearly fourty, aren't you? You'll be a senior soon!"

Mercedes was about to knock Dante upside the head for this little remark when she recalled just who held the wands. Fourty indeed! She composed herself is, "Drinks, then?"

"Get one for yourself, 'Cedes. I don't drink anymore."

"Oh? Starting when?"

"Starting now. You know what, why don't you skip the drink, too, huh? Your liver will thank you."

"Oh please, like that can't be fixed with magic!"

"Alright, how about this: You get your wand and your drink after you tell me whatever it is that's so important. The less alcohol you're shoving down your throat, the more you can talk. Start talking."

Mercedes effected a cute look of absolute innocence and ignorance, and then said, "I haven't the slightest what you're talking about!"

"And I haven't the slightest which two spell to try first. I can dual-cast, you know. My brain can handle all the equations involved in two spells simultaneously, did you know that? I didn't. Not until I turned twenty. You know something, so why not spill it?"

"If you must," she groaned, taking a seat next to him. "Two spells at once, huh? That's impressive. They say most wizards can only handle the calculations for a single spell at a time. Of course the purists demand that Merlin was able to do more."

"Do you have a point here?"

"You don't want to discuss history? Perhaps religion then . . . ?"

"You were telling me something important?" Dante said, avoiding being bated further by his half-sister.

"Yes, on the subject of the divine, no less."

Dante eyed her suspiciously, the wands still tilted in her direction through his sleeves. "Divine?"

"Yes, I heard from someone you found a receipt-,"

"Your point?"

"I know someone who knows something about it."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really. My, but you're not liable to trust anyone, aren't you?"

"Who do you know, Mercedes?"

"Why, I know the Weevil, of course."

"Weevil? What does that sod-head know?"

"He said things were going berserk at his workplace, he mentioned someone looking for an Angel of Death, and that his boss wasn't quite willing to deliver. Stupid one, that Weevil, but his loose lips are so useful."

"I'm sure you feel they are."

There was a loud crash behind them and the occupants of the bar turned to see four people standing over the broken form of the door, wands held forward. The forward most advanced and twirled his wand in his hand. He smiled politely and looked about himself before turning his head to the nearest of his companions.

"See to it that the Obliviators arrive promptly."

"The Obliviators? Sir, these are wizards!"

"Not all of them. There's a hag over in the corner, and at least two runaway House Elves as well. But that's aside from the point. There is no need for this to have ever happened."

"But, sir!"

"That was an order. See to it that the Obliviators arrive here before anyone else leaves."

"Aye, sir."

The man in the lead stepped into the now roused crowd and called out, "Has anyone here seen a man, say, six feet, broad, dark hair, blue eyes? He's a wanted criminal, and the first one of you to bring him to me will be granted amnesty."

"You've a lot of nerve, Drew Walker, comin' in here and assumin' we're criminals!"

"I'd be quiet, if I were you, Ferguson. You're wanted for owning a Hand of Glory, so unless you'd like a trip to Azkaban, you'd better be quick with turning me the man I want."

"You've no need to bother these people," called Dante, getting up, sliding Mercedes her wand. "The Master of Shadows is not here."

"Really?" Replied Drew, "Because I see him right now."

"Are you going to make a charge against the Head of House Cristo? Mind your position, Mr. Walker."

"You're not one for formalities, Dante. You've been away from home three days. I hear children are starving because you've been gone so long."

"Well, Drew, I can't say as its any of your business."

"Then I suppose I shall make it my business. Dante Magus, Head of the House of Cristo, I accuse you of being The Master of Shadows, petty thief and dark wizard!"

"Petty thief!?"

"We will be detaining you now."

"Cocky, aren't you tonight, Drew? I'm afraid that you will not be doing that at all."

Drew took a step forward, hand on his wand holster. He looked like some kind of royal cowboy, a wild west knight, even, except that he was reaching for a wand instead of a sword or gun. He said as calmly as he could, "Come quietly Dante. I don't want to have to hurt you."

"You won't be hurting anyone tonight, Drew. Go home and tell your Minister that all is not well in the trenches, hm? I heard you arrested the Black Wind recently. Do you mind if I make a small observation: Trent Gupp was a talented dark wizard, probably one of the best in Britain since the Death Eaters-," a murmur ran through the crowd at the mention of the Death Eaters. "But the Master of Shadows is something more than a dark wizard. He is almost an aspect of magic itself."

"Please Dante, no more wacky riddles. Just come quietly and everything will go smoothly. Rexula Montebottom just wants his journal back."

"Do you know what is in Rexula Montebottom's journal, Drew?"

"No, I don't. I don't go stealing other people's private things for giggles and grins."

"Ah, well, since you've wounded me so deeply with your scathing remark, I will surrender the journal."

"You mean-?"

"Yes, I, Lord Cristo, am indeed the Master of Shadows!" Dante flicked his wand and there was a spiral of smoke and a shower of black flames. "And I've a few words to share with you. Rexula Montebottom is a criminal. His journal is rife with proof of his work with Spelkryst traffickers. Journal? It's a notebook! It's full of records of shipments. Read it yourself!" Dante flicked his wand again and the journal snapped into his hands from regions unknown. He sent it at Drew, who caught it swiftly enough.

"And I suppose that the House of Cristo will be profiting immensely from the fall of Rexula Montebottom?"

"Drew, do I ever do anything that does not profit the House of Cristo? Mercedes!"

Mercedes snapped to and said, highly amused, "Yes, your lordship?"

"As a member of the House, I authorize you to, heh, feed the children with the profits from the fall of M. Montebottom."

"That's highly amusing, Dante, but you're still under arrest."

Dante disapparated from his place by the bar and, with a crack, appeared behind Drew and his Aurors. He said cheerfully, "Not if you can't catch me, I'm not." He leaned backward and fell through the doorway, springing from his hands to his feet again in the middle of the storm. With that he disapparated again, and the Aurors charged after.

"This isn't over," Drew grumbled as he dashed from the bar into the street, spying Dante on a rooftop nearby. "Not by a long shot."