Chapter 36: Spy and Werewolf
It was the week before Halloween. And in an unprecedented move, students of all ages were allowed to go to Hogsmeade for the day. The staff had decided that a Hogsmeade day was just what the students needed.
The entire staff had been working to the point of exhaustion to keep the atmosphere light and playful for the children. Group games were added, more Quidditch games were scheduled and chess competitions were held every Friday. Even a pantomime club was created.
Halloween created the perfect excuse to decorate the entire castle with silly, smiling pumpkin faces and mischievous bats.
The added effort worked well for the younger years. But it was not until three weeks ago, when the Hogsmeade trip was announced, that the atmosphere truly lightened and the predominant topic of conversation shifted from war to the much-anticipated Hogsmeade day.
The town was stone-throw away but the event had the teachers in a constant state of panic. Half the staff had the day off while the remaining half had to watch the students. It was a break from the castle for both the students and the teachers.
Tom had woken Charles up at five in the morning –Five– to be able to use the showers without the usual crowd. Their fight had woken up all the occupants in Room 1.
"With whom are you going to Hogsmeade?" Charles asked Tom on their way out of their rooms. Other than the slight chill in his tone, it was asked normally. The fake wall opened and they walked out of the common room with the rest of their year-mates. Room 1 occupants looked red-eyed, rumpled and annoyed.
Charles and Tom were dressed warmly for the October weather. Charles had a cream cardigan with elbow patches, knitted cap and brown trousers with braces. Not one thing was in Hogwarts colours.
Tom was dressed in the more accepted wizard robe, tailored and one of a kind. Not unlike what Malfoy was wearing. Except for a few others, everyone else was in their black Hogwarts uniform and school scarf.
"With our roommates. You?" Tom asked in exchange, rightly assuming that if Charles was asking it was because he was not planning to stick around and find out.
Charles shrugged.
"Really, Charles you should be branching out more. It's our first Hogsmeade trip."
Charles looked at Tom incredulously. "You sabotage my every attempt at making a friend. Gleefully, I might add."
Tom frowned. "Not a friend." He glared at Charles for good measure, "I don't want you having other friends but more contacts. Why in the world would you want to have another friend?" he demanded, "You have me. You don't need anybody else."
Charles looked at Tom flatly.
"You have issues." Charles replied simply, softly, mostly to himself. Tom walked ahead and ignored the comment.
Tom held him too tightly, to the exclusion of everyone else. It worried Charles to think that Tom might never let someone else in.
"Don't forget to pick out something for Abraxas' birthday."
"Yeah, yeah." Tom said, not really caring about Abraxas' birthday. Thestral crap on his way back was suitable gift for that poncy git.
As if he heard the uncharitable thought, Charles said, "A gift, Tom. Not trash you find on the street."
Tom scowled at Charles' profile. Charles hadn't even been looking at him, how does he do that? Tom wondered, not for the first time.
Charles looked sideways to Tom, rolled his eyes and said, "You are fairly predictable." The comment won Charles a shove. Charles rubbed his bruised shoulder. He should have left Tom believing in some higher art of magic. Less painful that way.
Anyone who might know Tom for any length of time would know that he was a horrible gift-giver. Socks –normal, everyday, grey socks– if he considered you tolerable. Quills –the average, on-sale kind– if he liked you. And trash for everyone else.
"lo, Winter."
Charles looked around to see who was calling him.
He stopped walking and let Tom continue forward to catch up with their roommates while he waited for the Gryffindor that was walking towards him in long, earth-eating, steps. The students hurried out of the way.
"Hagrid," Charles greeted with a soft, small smile. Hagrid's answering grin was big and happy with more than a little relief. The same relief Hagrid always showed when someone consistently treats him with decency.
Hogwart's students were fickle creatures. One day they loved him like a big brother, stuffed bear, protector of sorts and the next he was a monster that should not have been allowed in the castle. More often than not, the half-Giant was treated as prop in their games instead of as a friend. Today the students were giving Hagrid a wide margin of space and shifty glances.
It made Hagrid self-conscious but Charles felt better without everyone touching him, pushing him and breathing down his neck.
They passed the outer castle doors and continued to the crisp, fresh air of the morning. Charles hid his hands in his pockets and ducked his head against the cold wind. Hagrid looked a little less tense in the outside air and soaked up on the morning rays.
"How yeh bein?" Hagrid asked in his booming voice.
Charles was belt-level with the Half-Giant and always had to look up, up, up, to see Hagrid's face. Charles smiled and responded that he has been 'good'. Bored, but otherwise healthy.
He liked Hagrid's company. Hagrid expected nothing from him, wanted nothing from him. And was often too grateful for the friendship to demand more than what Charles was willing to give.
Hagrid excitedly told him about a newly discovered pocketsize dragon.
The sea of students opened up and right there in front of them was Tom and his group of friends. Charles might be called paranoid or self-centred, or both, but he suspected it was not a casual coincidence that Tom was right in front of him.
Hagrid tensed besides him. The Slytherins, as a rule, were Hagrid's main tormentors. And the first years had more of an opportunity to attack him since they shared class. Tom never actively took part in the torment, but he never stopped it either. If Hagrid noticed that since he and Charles started talking the abuse grew by ten, he was nice enough not to mention it.
"How can yeh stand him?" Hagrid asked, looking at Tom with narrowed eyes.
"It's hard to explain."
"Yeh pretty heads' have to stick together, eh?"
Sometimes, Hagrid's insecurity about his own physical appearance manifested as barbs at Charles' appearance. Usually he attacked himself with self-deprecating comments and overly shy behaviour. It was something about Hagrid's personality that Charles hated, but no one was perfectly nice all the time.
"He has his redeeming qualities." Charles answered with a frown at Hagrid for the comment.
Hagrid snorted in obvious disbelief. "Are yeh saying he's a saint?"
"No. But neither I'm I."
"Yeh are a good." Hagrid said with a decisive nod. "That Riddle is evil. I can feel it in me bones. An I think he's bin trickin yeh."
Hagrid looked pointedly at Charles covered wrist. Charles did not respond and tugged at his sleeve. He did not want to explain his relationship with Tom. Or the fact that he had Tom's name inside his wrist in Tom's handwriting.
It was no ones business.
And even in the unlikely chance he wanted to, he would not know where to begin. How could he begin to explain that three little letters were his only assurance that he was in fact living and not trapped in some fantasy? That he felt panic each time he couldn't see them and had to constantly check they were there.
Or explain Tom?
The silence grew uncomfortable and Charles was glad when Hagrid left with a group of Gryffindors. He kept walking alone towards the medieval village. The walk was not long and he was soon there.
The students that had chosen to travel in carriages were already there. Carriages and groups of walking students kept arriving each minute. Charles lost Tom in the sea of students.
There were no more than twenty stores. Only one place for decent food and a shabby pub. For six hundred students. He shook his head. Stupidity at its finest.
The sun was brilliant and the students eagerly made their way from one store to another.
Charles walked aimlessly, not really up to the challenge of pushing his way into a store even if he did need some supplies. When he was sure there were no chaperones watching him, he left the crowded area and moved to a more isolated area, the residential street.
The rows of houses were in the same medieval style. It was like the town was stuck in time. Never moving forwards, never changing.
He felt someone watching him and turned around until he found the perpetrator. Dark reflective eyes watched him from afar. The vampire was in plain view and no one was panicking. Charles assumed he was using magic to mask his presence.
Charles smiled and started walking away from the town. When he reached a clearing in the woods he stopped and waited.
"My persistent stalker," Charles greeted happily.
"My errant pet," Leviathan greeted back, with equal, if not more, enthusiasm.
"Leviathan, what are you doing here?" Charles questioned, ignoring the 'pet' comment. It would be a rainy day in the fiery pits of Hell before he was Leviathan's pet.
"I'm here to spy on you. I have my spy clothes and everything," Leviathan said, pointing out his head to toe black ensemble. Black glittery shirt, with a black velvet jacket, black sparkling top hat and black satin trousers on a clear, blue, sunny day. He was everything but covert.
"I see…" Charles said seriously, biting his lip to supress the smile that was begging to escape. "And how's that going for you?" he questioned.
"Well I have determined that yellow is not really your colour. It makes you look sick. You should really stick to cool colours like blues and greens. Or neutrals like white, black and grey."
He was not going to debate if his cardigan was more cream-coloured than yellow. If Leviathan said it was yellow, it was yellow. The last time he argued colours with Leviathan he ended up with a massive headache. And in the end he had to admit that coral was not pink and that, yes, he was an uncouth, barbarian for not knowing the difference.
Charles nodded solemnly, and looked at Leviathan up and down. "Next time you might want to go with a wig. Your long brown hair is too conspicuous."
"I knew I was forgetting something," Leviathan sighed dramatically, but his lips twitched upward.
"So you are my own personal spy, I feel special."
"Yeah, they decided to take advantage of the whole 'you not killing me thing' and sent me to find out if you were still alive." As he talked, Leviathan shielded his eyes from the sun with one glove covered hand.
"They are still giving you a hard time?"
"Not so much actually," Leviathan smiled wickedly at Charles, "I followed your advice."
Charles looked at Leviathan blankly, as far as he knew he hadn't given Leviathan any advice.
"Well, you implied I had to be stronger. And I'm doing that. It mostly brings me more trouble than being a good, submissive vampire but they are taking me more seriously. At least, I think so. I have been in the hospital too many times to properly notice but I'm sure they are taking me seriously now."
Charles felt a stab of worry for his –friend? Spy? Co-worker…? Well, his favourite vampire in any case. Leviathan was not a fighter.
"I decided that I preferred to be despised and shunned for who I am –fabulous– than be popular and having to live a lie. The world would be such a dull place without me. I am doing a public service really. They just don't know it yet."
"That sounded almost wise."
Somewhere in that egocentric speech was something wise, Charles was almost sure of it. Something about being yourself, even if you were a narcissistic, gay vampire that abhorred violence living in a highly intolerant, brutally violent, male-dominated, vampire community. In other words: suicidal. But brave and commendable.
"I think seventeen looks good on you," Charles complemented.
Leviathan playfully punched Charles on the arm. Charles rubbed the spot, and mentally bemoaned the huge black mark that was going to appear. Leviathan often forgot he was physically stronger. In his mind Charles was omnipotent.
"So. You are alive and healthy. Any deep dark secret you want to share?" There was a hopeful hint to his voice.
Charles scratched his head, "No. No secret. I'm rather boring and dull. Can't imagine why anyone would want to spy on me."
Leviathan snorted in disbelief. They kept walking aimlessly. Charles held the silence. He knew that Leviathan would speak to fill the void. The teen was horrible at keeping secrets or gossip to himself.
Now at seventeen and Charles eleven, the age difference was painfully obvious. Leviathan was almost a man while Charles had not entered puberty. The height difference alone was ridiculous. When they had met for the first time he had been eight and Leviathan fourteen, then the age difference had not been as noticeable.
"They took my plant." Leviathan commented sadly. He must have sensed Charles' confusion because he explained without having to be asked. The benefits of talking to an Empath. "The day after my birthday, they took the plant you gifted me to test it."
"Why are you telling me this now?" Charles questioned with a frown. Leviathan's sixteen birthday had been more than a year ago.
"Let me explain the whole story. They tested it for magic, after not finding any magic, they started trying to find a hidden message. They found the name of the plant and the properties of that specific plant, and then the general connotations of gifting a plant. They looked in history to see if you were alluding a certain event or time period."
"Even after all this time they are still trying to find a hidden meaning, convinced that it will give them a clue as to your intentions. I'm obligated to trick the truth out of you in some subtle but brilliant way."
Leviathan looked at him expectantly.
Charles kept his face blank, but not without effort.
The vampires were gave Charles way too much credit. A cat ate a bird, a natural disaster occurred in the pacific, an old lady died of a heart attack and Charles Winter was somehow responsible. It made his image larger than life.
Charles had come to accept this even embrace it. Vampires were the worst gossipmongers, with too much time on their hands and little to keep them occupied. Charles has heard he is a fourteen feet monster with three tails pretending to be a cute little boy to lure Vampires in and eat them. It made the truth hard to discern for others.
"Tell them I said: The polka dancing chicken flies in a green, peachy horizon, like the black and white dragon that scowls gently." Charles nodded solemnly, as if satisfied, "That should clear the matter up nicely."
Leviathan sighed, looked at the sky, and tried to hide his twitching lips. He looked at Charles seriously. "I didn't want to believe it before, but you are truly evil. They are going to be climbing walls trying to figure that out."
Charles shrugged, unconcerned. Charles checked his silver pocket watch.
"It's getting late. I have to go now, Leviathan."
"My instructions are to capture you and bring you back to headquarters at the first chance I get."
Charles scratched the back of his neck in contemplation. "I have a few errands for today. You can either accompany while I do them or meet me here say… at two?"
"I'll play good little spy and accompany you. Can we stop for breakfast though? The blood pastries from last time gave me wet dreams."
"Yeah, sure."
"And blood orange rooibos tea…" Leviathan kept mumbling with a dreamy expression.
"I have to meet with the Goblins first though." Charles held out his hand for Leviathan and Leviathan gingerly put his glove-clad hand on top of his. With a thought, and a lot of magic, they arrived at a room inside the Goblin bank in Diagon Alley.
"Come on. We have to leave this room." Charles said and hurried to the door.
"Why?" Leviathan asked as he followed Charles at a more sedate pace.
Charles grabbed Leviathan and hauled him out the door and closed it with a bang. A moment later the door disappeared.
"That's why. Keep close. If I say duck, duck. Don't question it."
"Why?" Leviathan asked again with a little more fear.
"According to the Goblins, the privilege of appearing directly inside the bank was too much of a risk and they had to take 'appropriate' precautions. They also like to remind me that they are a warrior race and that I must prove myself a warrior before they can accept me, making this all seem like one big trial or some big honour they are bestowing on me. I think that they are sadistic, nasty little trolls that love to make it difficult for me. But I may be biased and bitter."
-0-
"Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"
"Leviathan is over." Charles replied wearily.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh! I'm going to dieeeeeeee."
They were in a perfectly normal room. The door they had entered had already closed and disappeared. Five minutes ago.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"
"Leviathan, stop screaming."
Charles rubbed his temples. He was contemplating punching Leviathan to get him to shut up. Five full minutes later Leviathan stopped screaming only to start mumbling incoherently.
"Dragons, dragons…and the fire storm…knives everywhere…Oh my god, my shoes! My hand-made Italian shoes. Ruined. By Dragons. Bloody fire breathing dragons." A rather hysterical laugh came out of Leviathan's mouth. A moment later, "Did you see the dragon?"
"It was hard not to."
"It was a bloody dragon. Huge. And then the floor disappeared."
"Yes. You screamed. All the way down." Charles' ears might never recover from the abuse.
"Still alive I see." The Goblin that guarded the outer door said with a nasty sneer.
"Always the disappointment."
"Who is that?" The Goblin demanded sharply. The goblin pointed his sharp spear at the vampire. "Did you bring a vampire here?" he spat.
Leviathan held his hands up in surrender –even before the goblin had pointed the spear.
"Relax, Leviathan is a friend." Charles said soothingly, placing a hand on top of Leviathan's shoulder. Leviathan hid behind Charles, which was ridiculous when one considered that Leviathan was twice Charles' size. And a vampire. Supposedly.
"A friend?" he spat like a curse. "You have a vampire friend?" The Goblin seemed deeply worried but Charles had no idea why. The goblin left the room as fast as his small legs could carry him.
"Come on, I have some spare clothes in my locker and there's a bathroom we can use to clean up," Charles said.
The Goblins ate bile each time they were reminded that Charles had a locker and a bathroom –they built one for him because they were too disgusted at using the same facilities as a human.
Charles looked at Leviathan up and down; the teen was covered in dirt. Charles shook his head in exasperation. He had said 'duck' not 'dig out a hole and hide'.
He figured this would make a funny story some day. In the far, far future. He was too pissed off right now to find hilarity in the situation. His ears were ringing, probably damaged beyond repair, and he hadn't forgiven Leviathan for using him as a human shield –he was not fire proof damn it! Stupid vampire.
Charles quickly led the vampire to the changing rooms, took out clothes and soap from his locker and went to the only shower, leaving a still shell-shocked Leviathan outside to wait for him. Charles' shower lasted three minutes and he was out in five. He told Leviathan that he would be in a meeting in the room next to this one and left in a huff.
Leviathan left the showers an hour later feeling much better. Strangely the clothes Charles had left him were adult size and of good quality. They were a little loose but preferable than his dirty torn clothes.
Leviathan sat on a chair outside the door he felt Charles in to wait. He could hear shouting coming from the room.
-0-
"Is it true that you have a Vampire Friend?" The Head Goblin of the investment department asked Charles rather pointedly. Charles blinked in confusion from the sudden change in topics.
"Well, yes, I guess it is true." Sort of. Kind of. Maybe. Possibly. Not so much right now, though.
"Why not a Goblin Friend? You met us first after all…"
Charles frowned. "I don't think it works like that."
"We could be friends. After all we have been working together for years." The five goblins that were in the table smiled, in what they thought, a friendly manner. They looked to be in pain.
"Please, stop smiling," Charles begged with wide, scared eyes. Goblins had teeth like a goliath tigerfish. It was a scary sight. Charles looked at the door, a moment away from bolting.
The Goblins stopped smiling with almost a relieved sigh.
"Mr Winter, I'm not sure if you are aware but having a Vampire Friend has political connotations'. For one, you might feel inclined to favour the Vampires on a deal. Your neutrality cannot be assured. You gave the Werewolves permission to fight in this war, yet you now tell us that it is not a profitable business to invest in the Wizard Leader. Which is it? Are you sending the wolves to die or backstabbing the Goblin Nation?"
Charles tiredly rubbed his face. He hated politics.
"Werewolves are tightly involved with Wizards. It has always been so. I will not take away their right to fight for what they believe. My job with the Goblins is to advice on profitable business. The werewolves did not ask nor want my opinion. My opinion is that the war will be short lived and the Dark Lord will be on the losing side. There is no point in backing up the loser. We, on the other hand, can profit with war merchandise and later, with rebuilding teams."
"There is also the matter you are holding a Yule party for the Wizards. Should we worry about the fact that not one non-human has been invited? A lot of people are very offended and might not take too kindly to you in the future for this slight."
Charles rubbed his temples. "It is not my Yule party. It is a charity event of my mother's."
"You might create chaos in the Magical World if they believe you are conspiring with the Wizards."
"It might look a little suspicious to have the leaders of the Magical World in a simple charity event in the humble home of a pair of squibs." Charles spat, tired of everyone constantly on his back for every little thing.
A little after that Charles left the room. He had an angry headache and a fervent wish to send the whole magical community to hell.
Leviathan was waiting for him outside the door. Mercifully more calm. Charles wasn't sure he could deal with more screaming. Leviathan had been left unattended. The Goblins were probably hoping for Leviathan to wander off and get caught in one of the many traps inside the bank.
Charles walked back to the bathroom, took out a bag he had in his locker and offered Leviathan a hand. Leviathan looked at the hand warily.
"No more dragons right?" Leviathan asked with a nervous chuckle and shifty eyes.
Charles, against his will, smiled. "No. No more dragons."
"Breakfast?" Leviathan asked hopefully. Charles nodded with a small smile.
-0-
After a two-hour long breakfast in which they gorged themselves of every type of breakfast item on the menu Charles let Leviathan 'capture' him.
"You didn't mention it was going to be an ambush." Charles remarked.
"You wouldn't have come if you knew."
They where in Neutral Grounds. After the Peace Accords certain places where denominated Neutral Grounds for the purpose of solving problems without conflict. This one in particular Charles was very familiar with. Vampires and Werewolves milled about the place. Charles glared at the Goblins that he had been with a few hours ago. They could have mentioned something. Figures, they wanted the information first hand to plan for the meeting.
Charles hated, hated, this sort of thing and avoided them at all costs. They were long and tedious and pointless reunions often filled with petty arguments. It was probably the reason he never attended and why they had thought it better to simply not inform him. Now he couldn't say he was too busy washing his hair.
Like the coward he was, Leviathan scurried off. "Last time I buy you breakfast," Charles muttered resentfully.
A pouting and sullen eleven-year-old human on this sort of place was noticeable and it didn't take long for someone to approach Charles.
"Looky here boys, a lost little lamb. What are you doing here pretty? Are you someone's forgotten meal?" He asked with a leer. "Or something else? You are too pretty to be just a meal."
The werewolf didn't recognise him. Charles knew very little about Werewolves, but he assumed this one was a Beta based on what little he knew about their ranks.
Another werewolf quickly approached them and grabbed the first one by the arm, "Can't you be any stupider. Get the hell out of here before you get us all killed." The man hissed with anger.
"I am sorry, Mr Winter. It will not happen again. If you would accompany me, the meeting is about to start."
The man had a tattoo on his hand from the Blue Moon clan, one of the most powerful and influential werewolf clan in the world. Charles was almost sure there were also a clan in Japan and another in China and Russia that were at a par with it but couldn't remember the names.
Charles was little bemused to note that the man was not leading him to the meeting room. If not for the no violence wards around the place he'd be worried. Charles studied the man. He had an air of power. Strong jaw, dark eyes, not too tall but not short either, solid body and clad in leather.
"We don't have much time. They'll notice your absence," the man said.
"Who are you?"
"Someone who has lived as long as you."
"How is that possible? You don't have the whole," Charles made a waving motion to encompass the air around the man.
"I'm a Werewolf," he explained, "I changed in more ways than one."
He looked at Charles intensely. "You can only be Dartamian. He was the only one foolish enough to do what you have done. Do you have any idea of the consequences of your actions? Of course you don't."
Charles opened his mouth to defend himself. Of course he had no idea what he was doing but that didn't mean this man could judge him.
"Look, we don't have much time." He interrupted. "Go to this place and ask for Isaac. We'll talk then."
The door to the stairs opened and Seraphim stepped out.
"Mr Winter, we are waiting for you," Seraphim said frostily, looking at the werewolf with suspicion and distaste.
Sorry for the wait. I had my MCAT, Uni started, I moved, and a Hurricane is coming to P.R. today! So yeah, it has been busy.
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