CHAPTER 10
He was in a long hallway lined with family photos but the faces of the people in the photos had all been burned. A window occupied the end of the hall, and to the left was an open door. His heart started pounding but he was unsure why. This hallway seemed familiar, like he had been there many times. He stepped slowly towards the open door slowly. The closer he got the more his heart beat against the inside of his chest. If there was any other sound it was drowned out by the rhythmic thumps. As he reached the door the beating stopped, and all was silent. He walked into the room to find a bedroom. The bedroom had colonial furniture: a queen size bed, a dresser, and a nightstand. But what caught his attention was the blood. There was blood on the ceiling, on the floor, and a streak across the left wall. At the center of the gore was a woman lying on the bed. She had light brown hair, pale skin. Her white night gown had been stained red. Two small holes in her neck were oozing a steady stream of life force. He gasped and he started to panic. He turned to leave the room but a woman dressed in all black robes, her face covered by her long black hair, stood in the doorway. "What a nice snack for the trip home," said the woman. Her voice filled the room with an eerie hiss. The woman lunged for Derek, hissing and baring two-inch long fangs that were aimed directly for his throat.
Derek woke up with a start. His body was covered in sweat despite how cold he felt. His breaths came out in ragged gasps as he tried to calm his racing heart.
"Still having dreams I see?"
Derek quickly pulled out his wand and aimed it at the voice.
"Now, now. Is that anyway to treat your sister?"
Derek's vision focused and he could see the little girl who looked no older than twelve standing at the foot of his bed. She had black hair that flowed to her shoulders, and a light red dress on that look much too old for her.
"I should have known, I always get nightmares when you're around."
The girl giggled and walked over to the side of the bed, eyes never leaving Derek's.
"What do you want Clarissa? Why can't you just leave me in peace?"
"Oh, come now. You know why I'm here. Mother wants me to check in on you. Make sure you're still alive and what not."
"Well, as you can see, I am. So leave."
The girl giggled once more. It sent shivers down Derek's spine. "Not for much longer if you keep up this hunt. Mother wants you to stop meddling in London. Despite what you think, she still cares about you. So she sent me here to tell you to leave London."
"You know I can't do that."
The girl sighed, almost sounding human for once. "Oh, big brother, I know. But I can't deny mother's wishes, unlike you. Just do us both a favor, and don't get yourself killed." The girl walked over the window and opened it. Before she left, she turned to Derek. "I'll see you later big brother."
"Don't threaten me."
The girl giggled one more and then jumped out of the window. Derek lied back down and stared at the ceiling. No way was he getting anymore sleep after that horrid dream and that midnight guest.
Staring up at the ceiling, he was frustrated. Hunts had never been a problem for him. Why was this one so hard? And why hadn't he heard from the Authority?
"I guess I have no other choice."
He stood up from his bed and headed towards the door. He reached for the handle but then hesitated before turning around and heading for the bed again, where he pulled the box out from under it. He opened the box and lifted the crossbow gun from it, stowing it away inside his coat pocket.
"Just in case."
The waxing moon hung in the sky, half full. Below it, in an alley, stood five males, looking down on a charred body.
"Sherlock, who are these people? I'm breaking the rules for you; I can't have you bringing random people -"
"Lestrade, I thank you for your concern, but I need all three of them. Mycroft has undoubtedly told you what Phin can do, you already know John, and Albus is my apprentice."
The detective proceeded to ignore the baffled Detective Inspector and crouched beside the body. "John."
"Male, bulky, probably late twenties...died from this wound," the doctor pointed at a strange seared wound right above the heart where something had shot him, "and then was burnt."
Sherlock nodded. "Phin."
Phin crouched near the body, drinking scents in at Sherlock's word. He caught the blood, the burning, the fear, the man's unique, wolf-like smell...
But there was something delicate, piercing...
Fatal.
Albus was mentally taking notes, listening to the men talk while also studying the body (and trying to not gag on the smell of burnt flesh - he had thought it would smell like cooked meat, but it didn't and it churned his stomach). Something shiny caught his eye - Glitter? Who the bloody hell has glitter at a crime scene? - and he peered around Mr. Holmes to see it better.
His throat tightened slightly, and he said quietly, "There's liquid silver on the ground..."
"Shit..." Phin hissed and stood up quickly, stepping back to look at it from a safer distance.
Gregory stared at Sherlock. Alright, so this Phin bloke was a werewolf - he was still having trouble coming to terms with such a concept as werewolves and wizards - but Sherlock had an apprentice?
Surely it was some strange joke.
But no, the little bugger was actually paying avid attention, and then pointed out the liquid silver.
"Liquid sil-?" He looked down by his feet and stepped back, staring at the drops of silvery liquid. "How...? What?"
"He was a wolf. Someone burned him out with silver. He was shot with something, and the poisons killed him."
He shuddered. No matter this man's crime, he felt for him.
What a way to die...
The detective hummed quietly. "The legends must come from somewhere..." he murmured to no one in particular.
He stood. "Take him to Bart's. I will need to examine him in detail in better lighting. Try to find out who he is and text me."
He nodded to Lestrade and set off.
John turned to follow, but hesitated when he caught sight of Phin. "Are you okay?" He worried about his new flatmate's reaction to the silver.
Phin glanced briefly over at John, forcing his muscles to unclench.
"Yeah... I'm fine..."
He felt his new phone vibrate in his pocket and he stepped away. He opened up Albus' text message and his brow furrowed.
John eyed Phin but then sighed. "Come on. Let's go home."
He turned and started walking, but then looked around. "Where's Albus?"
He needed, wanted, more information. There was someone shooting werewolves in London. With silver. Liquid silver.
The twelve year old needed more information about the werewolves and who this person might be. And he knew where to get it.
He texted Phin a quick message, even as he slipped away from the crime scene to a darker, unoccupied alley.
He sent the text, pulled out his wand, and prepared to apparate.
Just as he turned on the spot and right before he was squeezed through time and space, he caught a glimpse of a large wolf snarling at him. And then he was gone.
Albus landed in Potter Manor with a soft crack, his heart pounding. He stood still for a moment, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Then he began frantically checking himself over, hoping he hadn't splinched anything off.
Hair, lips, nose, eyes, eyebrows, teeth, tongue, arms, fingers, legs, toes...All good.
But then whose finger was on the floor?
Another wave of panic and fear and relief washed over the twelve year old as he stumbled away from the bloody appendage and tripped backwards. His breath was heavy and loud in the dark, sleeping manor.
He had been attacked by a werewolf, and it was only out of sheer luck that he had survived. It was out of pure, coincidental, perfect timing that the wolf hadn't reached him, that the wolf's finger was sucked through and cut off when the spell ended.
The boy's frame shook as he rolled onto all fours and vomited.
When he was done, his trembling hand flicked his pale wand and cleared away the mess on the floor. He turned back to the finger - human, now that it was detached from the wolf's body - and cast a cooling charm on it. He summoned plastic wrap and tupperware from the kitchens, wrapping and storing the finger.
He shrunk it, slipped it into his pocket, and returned to his task at hand: sneaking into his father's study.
It was midnight on a weekend; it was unlikely Harry Potter, Head Auror who spent many, many hours at the Ministry of Magic and doing wizard police things (Albus didn't really know what his father actually did, and he couldn't be arsed to ask) that he often went to bed early on the weekends so as to catch up on missed sleep would be awake and patrolling his study.
Luckily, the Head Auror also thought his children would never be interested in all the paperwork and shite that came with being an Auror, so he also never locked his study.
When Albus reached the room, it was just as he had expected: empty and unlocked.
He rushed over to the desk, and when he couldn't immediately find the files and papers he wanted, the boy cast a handy spell an older Slytherin had taught him that helped him find key words in the text.
Soon he had about fifty files with the words "werewolf", "murder", "homicide", "hired hitman", and/or "London" in them. He narrowed the field down by dating them, not going farther back than six months. The pile shrank to about twenty files. A quick scan through each gave him four files on actual werewolves, one comprehensive file on all the attacks, and a file on an American named Derek or something.
He copied the files and charmed them to be self-updating before shrinking them and stuffing them in his pocket.
A spell returned the study to how it was a few minutes ago, and then Albus was sneaking out and down the hall.
"And where do you think you're going?"
"He's not going to stop. You know how stubborn he is."
Clarissa stood in a dark room facing a women sitting in a stone chair. "Then you must help him. He doesn't know how serious the situation is getting. Even the covenant doesn't want us going to London."
"Of course, mother. But what can I do, he won't take my help."
"Then don't let him know your there. Your good at being silent Clarissa. I know you can do it."
"I will help him however I can."
"If it gets too dangerous, just leave Clarissa. I can't lose both my children."
Clarissa giggled. "Mother, dangerous is my middle name. But I understand. I will do what I can."
Phin shook his head and then gently moved John with him as he went.
"He's... gone to sort something out at home. He'll be back. The little bugger can apparate."
Phin's nosed curled just slightly. His eyes darted around the crowd before him. But he turned away, still suspicious, and brought his lovers closer to him.
Huh. Thought I'd smelled something...
Albus whirled around, a trademark Slytherin sneer stealing over his lips.
"None of your business, prat. Go back to bed."
James Sirius Potter sneered down at his little brother. Like the auburn tint to his hair, the freckles dusting his face, and the blue eyes, he had also inherited the Weasley tall gene from their mother. Even at the young age of fourteen, Albus' petite frame - purely a Potter gene - only reached to James' sternum.
"I'll tell Dad."
Albus rolled his eyes. "Ooh, so scary James. Do you still run sniveling to Mummy and Daddy's bed when your dreams are of anything less than being pampered?"
"What? No!" Albus had to bite back a laugh; he was fairly certain the only thing James caught was running to Mum and Dad.
"Right. Anyways, bugger off. I'm leaving."
"No you're not. I want to know why you were in Dad's study."
"Is there a problem with me going in there? It's not locked. He didn't tell us not to go in there."
"Well I'm telling you now."
Both boys froze and turned to look at their father and mother.
"James," Ginny said, "Go back to bed."
The boy gave a dark smirk to Albus, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like, "Someone's gonna get it..."
Ginny then turned to her second son, face concerned and worried. "Albus, sweetie, where have you been?"
Albus scowled and looked away. "With friends."
"Who, luv?"
"Garrett. Phin. A few people you don't know."
"Alright, well, why don't you go lie d-"
"No, Mum." Albus took a deep breath. "I...I told them I'd be right back. They'll get worried if I don't go back to the flat."
"Albus Severus Potter, you will do as your mother says."
"Suck off, tosser!" the boy snarled. "I bloody fucking hate you. Don't talk to me!"
Harry took a threatening step towards his son, ignoring his wife trying to calm him. "You will not speak to me like that, young man!"
"You can suck my pixie dick, you chubby coon! You don't like me, you don't want me near you, so fuck off! I will happily move in with Prongs and - fuck it. I'm going to move in with Prongs. You can kiss my poofter arse."
Harry took another step, looking incredibly menacing. Albus, despite his bravado, wasn't feeling very sure of himself and took a step back, trying to keep the four or five meters between them the same.
It was the wrong move, of course, to make in the face of a very angry lion.
Albus turned tail and ran, the sudden fear of being beaten or something by his own father making tears prick at the back of his eyes. He jumped down the stairs three at a time, almost tumbling down. Then he was bolting into the Floo and apparition room.
He disapparated just as his father came into the room.
In a small, cozy cottage by the sea, the crack of apparition was soft. Albus, panting, ran his hand over his face. Then he worked his way deeper into the house, coming to the fire lit library.
A figure sat in one of the comfortable armchairs before the flames with a large tome in his lap, sitting still. Albus stepped forward tentatively, hoping the man wasn't asleep - or if he was that the boy wouldn't wake him.
"Uhh...Moony?" he whispered.
Remus was absorbed thoroughly in his book. It was fascinating, really, the history of herbology and its cultural influences on different civilizations and how it had affected-
Oh, hang on. There was someone behind him.
Remus shut his book, sighed, and pushed his glasses further up his nose.
"What on earth is it, Pron-"
But his grey eyes widened slightly.
"Albus? What are you doing here?"
Albus went and climbed into Moony's lap, cuddling the man. Then he began his story about Phin, Sherlock, John, 221B Baker Street, rampaging werewolves, an angry father, gratuitous homosexual relations, and a new apprenticeship.
"...so I want to come live with you guys, if that's okay. And...would you guys mind warding two two one bee?"
Oh, Christ, Phin... What have you gotten yourself into?
Watching his reckless grandson, as much as they clashed, get into most probably life-threatening trouble, upset him in any circumstance. But getting tangled in other werewolves? Most definitely a bad idea.
He chose to wince and ignore the gay threesome bit.
For now, Albus was currently homeless.
"Of course, Al. You can stay. No problem whatsoever." He gave Albus a kind smile, his grey eyes more like warm silver than harsh metal. He lifted the boy gently to the ground and closed his book softly.
"Let's let James know you're here, eh?"
Albus grinned and took off, finding his way to his grandfather by sound.
Which wasn't incredibly hard to do.
"WAAAAUUUUGH!"
Laughter ensued, and two sixty year old wizards were rolling on the floor, though they look like they were no more than perhaps forty eight.
One was James Potter, Head of the House of Potter, and the other was Sirius Black, Head of the House of Black. There were some other titles thrown in there, but you'd never know by looking at them
James giggled, picking himself off the floor of the study, wiping tears from his face from under his glasses. He giggled again, Sirius' continued laughter spurring him on once more.
"Prongs!"
James turned and his face immediately lit up as he crouched to catch his grandson. He was bowled over by the boy's momentum, but he laughed and said, "Bambi! What's up with our favorite little Slytherin?"
Sirius grinned and looked at Remus. The man's face showed worry though and his smiled slipped away a little. "What's up, Moony?"
Remus frowned and adjusted his glasses.
"I think there may be a situation in London. With my grandson." He gave them both a look. "Albus has wisely suggested wards."
"Yeah," he said, sprawled on top of his grandfather. "I just wanted to put wards up around his new flat. He's...well, he's like usual."
He clambered up and went to the fireplace. "The address is two two one bee Baker Street, London. Watch out for the low fireplace."
He grabbed the powder, resisting the urge to snort some, and threw it in the fire. He called out the address and stepped in, whirling away to Baker Street.
On the other side, he tumbled out, having tripped on the little mini fence meant to keep embers in. He landed on the floor with a little, "oof!"
James blinked, but one look at Sirius had them both grinning devilishly. They rushed over and went through the Floo system, Sirius first.
James called out to Remus. "Come on, Moony! An adventure!" Then he disappeared into a burst of green flames.
Remus sighed and stepped into the fireplace.