A/N The last two chapters have been slightly updated; more notes at the bottom.
When Theodore first joined the Assassin Brotherhood, he'd expected a life of adventure. A dashing journey into mystery and romance, replete with drama and lightly sprinkled with the blood of his enemies. You know, like those legendary twins and that one guy from Italy.
Standing in the rain holding a crying infant, while being jostled about by the rest of the crowd trying to get into one of London's many historic cathedrals, was certainly not what he'd had in mind.
"Excuse me… please, if you don't mind - well, I suppose you do mind - pardon me sir, coming through… oh, terribly sorry, miss, that's what I meant, I - oi, watch where you're swinging that thing! Have you bloody people never heard of a queue?" The assemblage of - judging by their utter disregard for order - tourists ignored him in favor of pushing and shoving their way to the front. Theodore sighed and took a step back to survey the situation.
According to Miles' (sparse and horribly scribbled) notes, an old Templar hideout beneath the building had recently been brought back into use. His objective was to find a certain Templar (Miles hadn't offered a name, but had described them as 'pompous', absent-minded' and 'dripping with fucking lace'), interrogate them (about what he wasn't sure, but Miles had left a list of questions), and eliminate them. Quite straightforward, really.
Approaching the cathedral, he pulled out Miles' map and examined it as closely as he dared under threat of heavy rain. The last time an assassin had entered this particular hideout was close to a century ago; he was therefore not particularly surprised to find a distinct lack of conveniently placed crates surrounding the structure. The hay bales were similarly nonexistent.
(Not that he'd been planning to perform any leaps of faith with the infant in tow. The Brotherhood had yet to provide training for tandem jumps.)
Between the unhelpful architecture and the swarming mob - honestly, no sense of organization whatsoever - approaching the building from the outside appeared to be the less-than-practical method. With another sigh, Theodore approached the entrance and skillfully positioned himself to sneak into the building.
(Which is to say, he bought a ticket and joined the mob.)
(And made a mental note to push for having the Brotherhood cover incurred mission costs. The Master Assassin always seemed to vanish when the topic came up.)
The inside of the cathedral was stunningly beautiful, causing many of the visitors to pause and gape in awe at the magnificent domes and breathtaking artwork. Fortunately Theodore wanted this job done as quickly as possible, and therefore didn't particularly care for any of it. He proceeded to investigate the walls for any signs of the secret entrances marked on the map.
In true tourist fashion, Harry began blathering incomprehensibly as they approached one of the walls. Glancing around furtively, Theodore began running his hand along the detailing, frowning. There should be a hidden lever somewhere around here, but he couldn't see any panels or crevices. Of course, much of the cathedral had been refurbished and polished up over the years; it was entirely possible the old entrances had been sealed in the process. Which, naturally, made everything that much harder.
"Sir, your child."
"Hm?" He turned to the tour guide giving him a rather horrid look, then glanced down at the Harry-that-was-no-longer-in-his-arms-where-did-he-go-
"He's over there sir."
Noticing the infant was now on the other side of the room Theodore quickly darted over, tossing a sheepish "my apologies, kids these days!" at the scowling guide. He knelt down to pick up the wayward child - only to realize this particular alcove was among those boldly circled on the map. Looking closely, one of the more prominent carvings on the wall had a very familiar symbol engraved on it. He reached out and tugged on it.
Nothing.
The years appeared to have taken their toll. The item didn't move, or spin, or click; indeed, it behaved exactly like any other decoration in the room - solid and slightly smelly.
Well, that was disappointing.
With a huff Theodore stood and turned away, only to have Harry thrust into his arms as the guide glared at him again.
"Sir, if you keep allowing your child to wander about the cathedral I will have you removed. Understood?"
"Er - yes," he responded, and she returned to answering questions from the rest of the group as he shuffled Harry in his grip.
Alright, that was a few of the entrances down. The Templars must have a way into their own hideout. The tunnels below stretched farther than the building itself (according to the map), so it wasn't entirely out of the question for the new entrance to be located outside of the cathedral. Of course, that radius could include any of the several buildings in the surrounding area. It might be easier to simply climb to a high point (lack of hay bales be damned) and wait to see if he could spot the target (hell, any target) from up there…
Spotting an exit, he looked down at his arms again. "Alright Harry, time to go -"
So far he'd somehow managed not to register the child slipping out of his grasp not once, but twice within the past five minutes alone. Jerking his head around in a mild panic, he spotted his charge crawling over to a slightly open door marked Staff Only. How does the kid keep doing that? He ran over just as the boy picked something up.
"Harry – Harry – oi, kid, stop chewing on that doorstop, you don't know where it's been – hey!" The boy wormed his way around the door, disappearing with the inedible object. With a sigh, Theodore followed.
Just in time to grab Harry before he fell down a rather large hole in the floor.
Theodore looked around the room. There weren't any other doors leading off from this area, and the walls were quite bare (save for a 'hang in there!' poster featuring a rather adorable tabby). No 'danger!' or 'under construction' signs guarded the hole. For that matter, the hole was almost perfectly circular, with a metal ladder leaning against the edge. Peering down into the depths, he swore he saw a flickering light near the bottom. Finally, something odd!
This area wasn't marked as significant on Miles' map, but if his options were mysterious hole or torrential downpour, the choice wasn't difficult. Hefting Harry onto his hip, he grasped onto the first rung of the ladder and slowly began to descend into the darkness.
At least, that was the plan. His heavily rained-upon palms and soles chose that particular moment to disagree.
With a curse, Theodore slipped off the ladder and plunged downwards.
As Harry shrieked to the high heavens in his poor left ear, Theodore closed his eyes in accepting bliss. This was not the blaze of glory he'd imagined the end of his illustrious career as an assassin to be. There was so much he had yet to do! Master the art of the hookblade, reach the top of the assassin leaderboards, find a girlfriend (or at least figure out if that was what he was into), seek bloody vengeance on whoever killed his - no wait, that one was Montgomery's goal - write his memoirs, find out whatever the hell was up with this bloody baby - speaking of which, why was Harry still shrieking? They should've been dead by now. Or at least horribly maimed, in which case the shrieking would indeed be appropriate.
Electing to halt his pondering for now, Theodore opened his eyes to find himself facing the ceiling far above him. Twisting his head, he found the floor as well.
It appeared to be approximately ten centimeters below him.
Still clasped tightly in his arms, Harry laughed and clapped, and suddenly said floor was rushing up to meet him. The boy seemed to take great enjoyment in the fact that he'd landed rather painfully on his rear.
Theodore blinked and shook his head. He really should have gotten some sleep last night.
Getting to his feet he picked up the fallen doorstop and looked around. He'd been dropped into the middle of a long hallway, with stone walls and flickering lights not unlike the ones back at the Assassin Compound. Good, at least he was back on track. Even better, no one seemed to have come rushing at the sounds of a cheering infant.
Theodore sighed and brought Harry up to eye level.
"Alright kid, here's the deal: we're in enemy territory and both of our jobs are on the line. I'm going to need you to work with me here. That means no shrieking, no crying, no laughing. No noise at all. Got that?"
Harry was chewing on the doorstop. Theodore, deciding that was better than being skewered by Templars, elected to take the silence as a 'yes sir!' and proceeded down the passageway.
As he crept through the lair he pulled out Miles' map. It was old, crumbling, and apparently outdated as it didn't show half the doors he had passed by so far. He resolved to petition for regular checkups on all known Templar hideouts to keep the database updated once he returned to the brotherhood.
(He also resolved to create a proper database that didn't consist of asking fellow assassins to throw together hastily-drawn maps right before missions. There were these fancy new things called computers nowadays, perhaps they had some kind of database sheet tool for this.)
Trying to figure out whether he'd made a wrong turn two corridors back while fending away Harry's attempts to tug his hood off, Theodore had very little warning before voices around the corner alerted him to incoming Templars. He darted behind a wooden column, keeping absolutely still as he'd been trained.
This was made difficult by his having to juggle the map, the baby, the doorstop the baby had suddenly dropped, and the dagger the baby was now reaching for instead.
By some miracle Harry managed to keep silent as the guards trotted past. After a brief debate over just letting him have the dagger in thanks, Theodore chose better and returned to him the doorstop. Stepping out from the column he took a few more steps - only to hurriedly dive behind it again as he heard more voices nearing his position.
This time he was forced to clap his hand over Harry's spontaneous babbling as he waited for the hallway to clear. Finally, the danger passed and he inhaled deeply.
What the - oh. Oh no.
Oh no.
Steeling himself for the worst he lifted the baby up to eye level, brought him close, and sniffed.
"You. Didn't."
Harry gurgled at him.
Theodore stared at the stony ceiling, trying to recall why, exactly, he'd brought a fucking baby along on an Assassin mission to a Templar hideout. The Master Assassin had said a lot of things, largely along the lines of "bonding" and "opening its eyes to the Creed" and "you brought it here so you have to watch it while I figure out how this is going to work" while the other assassins hastily made themselves scarce.
He sighed again. Okay, he could do this.
First time for everything and all that.
Kneeling on the hard floor he pulled out some napkins, his water bottle and -
When one disgusting piece of fluff is removed, another is supposed to take its place. That's how babies worked, right?
Fumbling around for anything to use instead, he wound up improvising a diaper by ripping off the bottom half of his cloak. As he put to practice whatever knowledge he had about the process (it wasn't much. Not by a long shot. Did any of the other assassins have kids? He'd have to corner them with questions sometime), he kept his ears peeled for signs of approaching hostiles. What he'd give for someone to stab right about now.
He really hoped the Brotherhood agreed to share this particular responsibility, if nothing else.
Finishing the horrible task (assuming he'd gotten it right. He dreaded to think what might happen if he was wrong), he carefully lifted the revolting item and looked around. He couldn't leave it here, it might be noticed and alert the Templars to his presence. He grimaced, picked Harry up and stood. "You owe me for this. Just you watch, one day -"
Harry coughed out a few purple flames, lightly singeing his nose.
"...I'm going to find out what the hell is up with you."
The child laughed again.
Stashing the abomination away Theodore re-entered the hall and quickly ducked around another corner as more guards walked by. This was becoming an issue. Hefting Harry up he grasped the (practically nonexistent) bumps and grooves in the wall and hoisted himself into the rafters. Once he was securely nestled in the wood he began to stare intently at some of the passing Templars.
It took a few minutes, but the walls began to fade to darkness and the oblivious guards started glowing bright red. Or they were supposed to, anyway; he frowned and shook his head as the light flickered black.
"Stupid… eagle vision… never… works…" It had been on the fritz ever since that botched leap of faith a few weeks ago, "come… on… ow!"
Naturally, Harry's swift application of percussive maintenance – namely, a bop to the nose – succeeded with flying colors.
Rubbing his face as the glow steadied, Theodore began carefully making his way along the rafters, moving his head around to catch sight of his target.
(Who should be glowing bright gold, but the Master Assassin had never really covered following other people's targets, so hell if he knew whether this would work.)
It took a lot of scuttling, shifting Harry around and stifling curses every time his face slammed into a support beam, but twenty minutes later he spotted the flash of yellow.
When he began his sixth year at Hogwarts, Gilderoy Lockhart hadn't expected much to change. His teachers would fawn over him, his peers would remain enamored with him, his grades would stay up and his pursuit of fame, fortune, and decent hair care products would continue.
Then the NEWT preparations began.
Now even the castle house-elves seemed too busy to attend to him properly. Having endured one too many evenings surrounded by books (that other people had written!) and accompanied only by an hour-old pot of tea (and not so much as a scone), Gilderoy had decided that a change was sorely in order.
That was about when Fate smacked him in the face. Quite harshly, in fact, in the form of a glossy, brightly-colored sheet, cordially inviting him (him!) to join a global organization in the daring pursuit of truth, or some such nonsense.
Travel to new places? Meet interesting people? Go on grand adventures? Check, check, and check!
Being a Muggle organization (and therefore unknown to the Magical world), all his tales required was a touch of embellishment here and there to capture the attention of his classmates once more. His internship was basically an apprenticeship after all, and this was technically a top-secret organization, practically a Secret Service of sorts, really. And the Order's high turnover rate (involving some rival brotherhood or whatever) meant he'd probably be promoted any day now, of course.
And best of all, he finally had the chance to focus on his writing.
Theodore crouched in the dusty rafters, examining his options. There were eight Templars in the vicinity, decked in armor and clutching their sword hilts.
(The use of blades was an unspoken rule between the Templars and the Assassins (European Branches). Unlike their American counterparts, modern firearms were difficult to acquire and hide effectively. The longstanding agreement had yet to be broken, for the simple reason that it still worked.)
Readying his hidden daggers he ran through the plan. Once he slid down that pole over there he would have about two seconds to slip into the next alcove before that pair of guards turned around. He would then have to make his way past the group of four patrolling up and down the hallway; climbing those convenient bookcases should do the trick. Finally, the last two were –
Harry sneezed.
"Bless you," Lockhart called absentmindedly from below, still engrossed in his books.
Staring into the eight other pairs of startled eyes that subsequently looked up at him, Theodore sighed painfully.
Carefully crafted plans forgone, he leaped down and reached for his - nonexistent swords. Right, with Harry in tow he hadn't been able to bring them along.
It was truly remarkable, he mulled as he plunged his hidden blades into the faces of the first two guards, how much trouble the small lump of flesh could be. Harry couldn't even walk and yet had effectively robbed the assassin of some of his most vital tools.
Poking out the third guard's eyeballs, Theodore glanced down the hallway, wondering how far his target had gotten. To his pleasant surprise, it wasn't very far at all.
This was likely due to said target strolling along and muttering to himself, rather than fleeing in terror as expected.
Gilderoy Lockhart, completely oblivious to the fact that another Templar had just been decapitated approximately three meters behind him, continued scribbling furiously in the margins of his manuscript-to-be. The information contained in the Templar missives was absolute gold! Mystical objects found by Muggles - probably simple cases for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office - but since nobody cared about that, no one would notice if he…adapted the content. Put a spin here, a touch of magic there, and he'd have the Wizarding World clinging to his every word! This would fit right next to the tale that hairy witch had given him.
Chewing on his pen (really, how did Muggles come up with such strange devices!) he reviewed his notes, ignoring a rather sharp clang of metal behind him (probably just guards comparing their swords again). What this book really needed right now was a title...
Blocking the next strike, a piece of paper slipped out of Theodore's sleeve. Right, Miles' questions! He pushed back against the particularly savage Templar, trying to remember what said questions were. Well, he supposed any Templar would do…
Mindful of Harry's head, he grabbed the Templar's collar and slammed them into the wall. "How many of you are stationed here?"
With a roar, the Templar headbutted him away and charged forward. Their hands locked and they began pushing for dominance. "What do you want with – er – hang on," the assassin glanced down at the slip of paper by their feet, taking a moment to read Miles' chicken scratch – that man really needed handwriting lessons - "shroud? Oh, well, alright then." He returned the earlier headbutt in kind. "WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH THE SHROUD?"
He began whaling on the Templar, each word accentuated with a punch (and an encouraging clap from Harry). "Tell! Me! About! Your! INTERNSHIP! PROGRAM!"
"We offer an experiential learning environment," one of the other Templars finally joined the fight, slamming their pommel into his side, "and extensive networking opportunities!" The last two appeared as well.
Slash! "We look for prior experience and accomplishments!"
Whack! "We expect our interns to handle real-world projects and wear many hats in this position!"
Theodore dodged nimbly out of the way, covering Harry with one hand while the other parried the blows. "How do you recruit – wait, what about pay?"
"We pay you in experience!" They yelled in unison.
Leaping away from the blows the assassin grabbed one of them, violently introduced their face to his knee, and stabbed the other in the chest. Such utter evil deserved no less.
Backed into an alcove by the remaining three Templars, Theodore reached for his bomb pouch. He was thus wholly unsurprised to pull out Harry's used diaper.
He'd forgotten to replenish the smoke bombs. That… was entirely on him, actually.
He awkwardly held up the atrocity, pinching his nose. The Templars were giggling. The Master Assassin was going to have his head for this.
Fuck it. Theodore undid the wrappings and lobbed it as hard as he could.
Lockhart's musings ("Break with a… Billywig? Bowtruckle, perhaps?") were rather rudely interrupted by an ungodly shriek, followed in rapid succession by a series of squelches and splattering noises. Turning slowly, he found himself face-to-face with a hooded figure, a pile of bloody corpses, and a squealing bundle of joy.
The figure patted the bundle (taking care not to stab it with – were those daggers on his wrists?). "Hello there."
Lockhart bolted, screaming down the passageway.
Theodore made to dash after him – only to slip on the bloody tiles (which Harry appeared to take great delight in). He delicately stepped across the splash zone and, once he'd steadied himself, gave chase.
Not that it was difficult, given the pages that had been scattered over the hall in his target's wake.
The wizard panted as he ran, hanging a left and yanking a door – only to find it locked – then exiting that particular corridor in favor of another. Gilderoy wasn't sure what he'd seen back there, but blood was in general a Very Bad Sign as far as he was concerned. Also, that racket was getting closer; what in the world had the ability to squeal like that? He'd never heard such a horrifying sound!
He saw some guards up ahead and, without slowing down, cried "help! Help! There's someone after me! He's a murderer!" as he passed by them.
Theodore wasn't the fastest assassin in the Brotherhood, but this was starting to get ridiculous. The target was wearing heels for goodness' sake. He came to a stop long enough to take down the two guards that had been suddenly thrust into his path and looked around. This far underground… perfect, a vent! Removing Harry from his grip, he stashed the infant (complete with doorstop) inside and put a finger to its lips.
"Harry, I need you to stay here, you got that? No noise, no laughing, I'll come and get you when I'm done." Harry gurgled in response.
This was a Really. Bad. Idea.
Continuing on with his chase, he picked up one of the fallen pages. The handwriting was loopy and tilted, and therefore barely legible.
It was there that I came upon the strangest sight: lying upon the glistening shore, its prongs piercing the sand with a radiant –
An arrow flew by his face and stuck the unfortunate page to the wall. He glanced behind himself.
Ah. That would be the Templar reinforcements. He had been starting to worry that they'd never arrive.
With a long-suffering sigh Theodore unsheathed his hidden blades again. As long as he stuck to countering their own attacks, he should be able to conserve the energy he'd need to explore the rest of this place, because hell if Miles' map was giving him any idea where he was supposed to be going.
Little Harry Potter had had quite an exciting evening.
It all began in the Dark Place. He spent a lot of time in there. It wasn't very fun, but he'd discovered that if he cried loud enough, Someone would pick him up and rock him to sleep, so it wasn't that bad.
(Except when they shouted at him. That wasn't fun either.)
Only this time when he cried, he was taken away from the Dark Place. First he'd gone to a Less-Dark Place, where lots of Someones had smiled at him and talked to him. Then he'd gone to a Wet Place, where lots of Someones shouted, but not at him, so he didn't mind. Then he went to a Bright Place that had cool pictures on the wall, then another Less-Dark Place, and now he was suddenly in a small Dark Place again. And the Someone who had brought him to all of these places was gone.
Having adequately contemplated the events of the day Harry, deciding he wasn't quite finished having fun yet, opened his mouth and proceeded to cry.
When no one had arrived to pacify him after a solid minute of wailing, his wails became whimpers, allowing another noise to fill the silence. Harry turned his head down the tiny passageway, listening to the unintelligible muttering and shuffling.
It certainly sounded like a Someone, so with all the grace of a newborn octopus Harry squeezed around the grate and began crawling through the vent.
As he approached the noise he could hear a lot of slamming and footsteps. The darkness gave way to light, and he found himself looking through some bars into another Bright Place. He pushed against the bars, and then scowled and beat against them when they refused to budge. He wanted to get through!
Naturally, they immediately bent themselves in half and fell down. Oblivious to his abrupt shattering of the laws of physics, Harry happily climbed through the vent hole and into the Bright Place.
This Bright Place had a lot of pictures too, as well as some very cozy-looking couches, one of which he fell down onto as he exited the hole. There was indeed a Someone running around, stuffing books and pens and lacy gowns into a bag that looked far too small to hold them all. This Someone was also muttering under their breath about 'career instability' this and 'turnover rate' that, not that it meant anything to Harry, who was quite preoccupied with a collection of brightly lit candles on the table, and who therefore didn't notice the man mumble something to one of the pictures and then dash out of the room in a hurry.
Not this door.
No, not that one either.
Maybe this one - nope, those were just regular guards. Theodore idly stabbed them in the neck as he went through his mental checklist of the place. Where would the target run? There was probably another way out. He peeked outside the room to see scores of Templars rushing by in a hurry and scowled. Had news of his presence spread that quickly? In that case they'd probably seen which way the target had gone. He waited for the bulk of the guards to pass and then slipped from the door and into a nearby alcove.
After a few minutes a trio of scared and particularly young-looking Templars approached. They came to a stumbling halt as he shifted out of the shadows, hooded and daggered.
"Greetings," he hissed in his raspiest voice, stalking towards them menacingly (and taking care not to cough. This bit always did a number on his throat). His ripped cloak flared up dangerously. "I am darkness. I am the end. I am your doom." His eyes glinted in whatever was left of the torchlight as he advanced on the cowering group. "I am -"
"An assassin!" One of them gasped, pointing at him. Another shrieked, while the third fumbled for her sword, dropping it with a clatter. They all started panicking.
"The assassins are here too?!"
"Oh no, oh no, what do we do?"
"They didn't train us for this yet! We're all going to die!"
Theodore dropped his intimidating stance as he watched them devolve into a sobbing mess. Not quite the effect he was going for, but he supposed it went better than the last few times. He grabbed the nearest one by the robe and jerked them forward.
"I'm looking for - wait, you didn't know I was here?"
The Templar (-In-Training, it looked like) frantically shook his head. One of the other ones cleared her throat.
(She was also holding her sword wrong, but Theodore had more important things to worry about right now. Like that sudden crashing sound that seemed to be getting closer.)
"Er, what he means is, of course we did! We have, erm," she glanced at her companions for backup, "come to defeat you?"
He sighed (what was he at now? Eight sighs? That must be a new record) and let the first one go.
"Right, first off, your sword is upside down. Second, if not me, then what exactly are you running from?"
Right about then they were rudely interrupted by a piece of the ceiling falling down.
Theodore, mentally recapping how his day had gone so far and ultimately concluding this new development did indeed fit in with the rest of it, sheathed his blades and motioned for the group to continue running. They cautiously darted around him and fled down one of the collapsing tunnels. He stood there for a few moments, pondering how this had happened and the general course of his life. Well, at least it wasn't stranger than -
Dammit.
He ran back through the halls.
Theodore slid to a stop beside the vent and yanked it open. "Alright Harry, time to go."
The suspiciously empty opening declined to respond.
The assassin hesitated, before cautiously reaching out and poking the air inside the vent.
"Well at least he's not invisible now!" He threw his arms up in frustration. One of his hands hit something squishy and yelpy, and Theodore turned around to find himself surrounded by Templars.
(One of whom was now lying on the ground clutching his head.)
Grabbing his - still no sword - dammit - he took out his hidden blades again and dropped into a threatening stance. Third time's the charm, right?
"I am darkness. I am the-"
Another chunk of freshly plastered ceiling fell down, and with it came a blade-wielding cloak that chose this precise moment to do his job for him by beheading the nearest guard.
"Oh come on!"
"Hold on! Wait for me!" One of the fleeing Templars held open the door and Gilderoy Lockhart burst out of the smoking sewer grate and onboard the bus, panting heavily. As the door closed and the bus drove off through the gathering crowd of thrilled tourists, the wizard collapsed in one of the seats and turned to his seatmate. "I say, that was rather exciting. Did you hear that ghastly noise in the halls?"
"I'm pretty sure that was a baby," His companion replied, shifting to make room for his oversized robes. Lockhart looked surprised.
"That's what a baby sounds like? It reminded me of a banshee!" With a pause, he started sifting through the papers in his hands, muttering. "Hmm, Break With A… hang on, where are my pages?"
The Templars in the surrounding seats looked over as he started going through the papers frantically. One of them picked up a few, examined them, then held them up for the rest of the bus to see.
"Hey, everyone! The intern saved our case files from the assassin threat!"
A resounding cheer went up as his seatmate clapped him on the back. "Congrats! The boss'll bring you on full-time for this for sure!"
Lockhart nodded as he silently mourned the loss of his first manuscript draft.
"What took you so long?" Theodore grumbled as Margo tossed him a sword. She shrugged and beheaded another Templar. "Master's presentation dragged on. Everyone kept crooning at the pictures."
"He had a presentation ready?" He stabbed a few more assailants. Standing back to back, they finished off the last of the Templars in the hallway.
"Apparently he uses it for all the soon-to-be parents in the Brotherhood. He's probably going to make you sit through it later, Jenkins-Potter."
"My name is not – "
"Speaking of which, where's Harry?"
"…well he was down that hallway." She rounded on him.
"Was? …YOU LOST HARRY?"
Another burning piece of the roof fell down nearby. He gestured to it.
"I think he might be the reason the building's on fire, actually."
Margo hit him, and the pair dashed down the corridor calling for Harry.
As they ran more assassins began to appear out of the shadows, tackling Templars and raiding innocuous chests scattered around the compound. Theodore checked inside the rooms they passed while Margo pushed aside the accumulating rubble, and occasionally shot miffed looks at her companion, who shrugged once he noticed them.
"Hey, I asked you all to look after him while I was off on the mission!"
"You brought him to the hideout! We shouldn't have to babysit for you just because we work together. Dammit Jenkins-Potter this was rule two on the presentation!"
"What was rule one?"
"Don't have kids!"
"I didn't!"
"Look out!"
She yanked him out of the way as a few more flaming bits of historical significance came crashing down in the next room. Far above him Theodore could dimly hear the cries of panicked (or possibly excited) tourists. Margo cursed.
"How did this fire spread so quickly?"
"Like I said -"
"And why is some of it purple?"
Theodore sighed.
The duo grunted and heaved as they pushed another door open through the rubble blockade. She trudged towards the couches lining the edge of the room, calling for Harry, while he dragged himself over to a large pile of rubble and sat down, exhausted.
Said rubble chose that precise moment to begin babbling.
Pondering briefly whether the loss of his mind was worth his meagre Assassin paycheck, Theodore turned and began moving some of the rubble. A few pieces shifted and he was able to lift a large bit of plaster up.
The giggling bubble beneath did not help his plea for sanity.
"Found him!" He called out as he brushed aside some of the dust and picked up the bubble. True to form, it vanished just as Margo hurried over. Blinking a few times (and sighing once more for good measure) Theodore turned around and found himself beset by a room full of assassins, who all immediately proceeded to resume cooing over Harry again.
(Of course they only seemed to do that when he was around to care for the infant…)
"What's he chewing on?" One of them asked, and another came close, taking the decidedly-not-a-doorstop (where had that thing gone? It was his best bet at keeping the child quiet, he'd better find it before leaving) page out of Harry's mouth.
"Let me see." The other assassins crowded around them, chattering excitedly.
"Looks like a manuscript of some kind, but it's all wet now and I can't read it."
"And burned. It's burned too, look."
"I think it's cursive."
"Well then I definitely can't read it."
"Can anyone read cursive?"
"That's like asking if anyone can turn into a lamp."
"I think Miles can."
"Turn into a lamp?"
"No, read cursive. "
"...Why?"
"Then why can't I ever read his writing?"
"Well I didn't say he could write in it!"
"That might be for the best, actually."
"Great, where is h-oh."
"Does anyone know when he'll be back?"
Theodore handed Harry off to Margo (ha! It was her problem now!) and walked over to the Master Assassin, who was inspecting an empty portrait. The building had stopped crashing down around them for now, but who knew how long that would hold.
"Master, I, erm…" He looked around sheepishly, "...it wasn't me."
"Hmm," the elder stroked his beard. Theodore quickly continued.
"Really, the - I don't know what happened here, it's all very unusual."
"Hmm."
"...And I would just like to reiterate, that child isn't mine. Like, at all. I found him at my target's house."
"Hmm."
"I, er, never finished that mission, by the way."
"Hmm." The Master Assassin glanced around at the room at the rubble, scorch marks and Templar corpses haphazardly strewn about, and shrugged. "Well, I suppose it doesn't really matter now."
Theodore shifted awkwardly for a few moments.
"So, er, the child…?"
The Master Assassin looked at Harry, who was still chewing on the papers left behind by the Templars. "It would seem that we do, indeed, have a new…" He sighed. "Assassin."
Several members of the Brotherhood giggled.
It was while the final drink of the evening was being served that their waiter wordlessly placed an embossed envelope in front of Vernon and hurried off. Petunia's gushing over the sudden change in their fortunes faded away as she noticed the whitening of his face and trembling hands. She leaned over and took the envelope, inspecting the cross-shaped seal closely. Then she sighed and covered her face.
"Vernon. Dear. We've just gotten away from my family's strangeness. Why in the world do we suddenly have to deal with yours?"
A/N Hello there! Welcome to my fic. You know, the one that totally didn't take over four years to come out with another chapter. Of course. Because that would be incredibly rude of me and why ever would I leave you with such trepidation?
(Please don't eat me. I taste disgusting. Your digestive system would not be happy about it, I assure you.)
As a gratuitous token of my not-being-eaten, please go pay attention to my oneshot Lord Voldemort Goes To Hogwarts, while I succumb once more to the dark embrace of Writer's Blo– writing. Yes, that's what I was going to say. Writing. Let's go with that.
(Actual author's notes:
- The previous two chapters have had some minor updates.
- Some general story info has been added to the bottom of Chapter One.
- My goal is a chapter a month, so next one should be out sometime in January.
- I've officially started cross-posting to AO3 under Little_Ghostie)