Chapter Four: Die Flight Of Die Fleidermaus

In which Billy Stockwell finally has a good day, for at least 37 minutes or so, before he becomes part of something nobody would ever believe even if he told them about it.

***

ROSALINDE: Just be patient!

BLIND: Just patience!

EISENSTEIN: Instead of the matter being over,

It's changed for the worse.

And it's all his fault.

BLIND: Who's at fault?

ROSALINDE: His fault? Could it be his fault?

EISENSTEIN: Yes, it is entirely his fault!

- Die Fledermaus; Johann Strauss II (1874)

***

Billy Stockwell let himself into the shop quietly. As the owners had officially closed up for the week of the Christmas and New Year's holidays, he wasn't surprised that there was nobody else about. But Billy, who had decided not to return home to America for the vacation, had decided to take advantage of the free time and come in to practice his cutting in peace and quiet and without anyone hanging over his shoulder. He hadn't slept well the past week, plagued by odd nightmares he could never seem to remember once he woke up, but which left him feeling very disoriented and uncertain as to even what day it was. Billy needed some quality quiet time, no questions.

The cutters' main work room was situated in a converted Victorian-era warehouse adjacent to the main store. It came complete with high ceilings, iron scroll work, and heavy, gaudy decoration. The motif of the space happened to be gargoyles and other shady looking things with long teeth, which seemed a bit much even for overly dramatic Victorian artisans. Odd creatures seemed to lean from behind every pillar, hover over every doorway, and lean out of odd nooks and crannies all over the place. Billy found them hideous enough in the daylight when every lamp in the place was illuminated, but now in the limited light of the small area Billy had set up to work in they took on a distinctly ominous appearance. For the boy who had been told repeatedly that he lacked any real imagination, he seemed as of late to be making up for all that 'lost time' what with dreams of buildings with no doorways, lawyers politely feeding him poisoned cookies, and creepy little men with sharp teeth grinning at him in his sleep.

Billy worked quietly for a while, putting the final touches on some small and mid-quality emeralds that had been assigned to his work load. They were turning out nicely, he decided, but just as he removed the last one from the cutter, it seemed to resonate for a moment, then shattered in his hand without warning. Flabbergasted, Billy stood there looking at the remains of the jewel on his fingers and palm, trying to imagine what possibly could have caused that, when he heard the quiet creek of a door opening behind him. He looked up and peered around a pillar to see an unfamiliar young woman of medium build with short dark hair entering the far side of the workroom. She turned to her right and walked with a brisk, graceful motion over to the stairs that led up to the offices on the next level. Billy watched her carefully, wondering why she was dressed in some sort of dark grey robe-thing that made her look like she was an extra from a Star Wars movie. The garment was belted with a black sash tied around her hips, and the v-front showed that underneath the woman had on a plain v-necked white shirt that accentuated the long graceful curve of her neck and her light tan.

At the top of the stairs she paused for a moment, and then glanced over her shoulder directly at him. Billy couldn't remember the last time he had seen such a beautiful woman, and he openly gaped at her. She didn't appear surprised to see him at all, simply raised an eyebrow slightly and gave a thin amused looking smile. He tried to smile back, and even managed to struggle to his feet, determined to go over and ask her if she needed any help, just to have an excuse to speak to her. But he looked away for a second, and when he turned back, it seemed that she had simply vanished.

Billy stood on the shop floor staring up at the top of the stairs for a long moment. This is it; you've finally lost it. Now you're having day mares as well. Great. At least that was a fantasy worth having, so I guess you could call that an improvement. Damn; she was hot. Probably a remnant of all those fantasies about Princess Leia from when you were, what, 12? I guess I really do need to start getting out more. And next time, moron, try dressing her in that dancing-girl outfit, not Obi-Wan's cast offs.

Sighing, he moved to sit back down, and then froze as he saw the door to the entryway. It was slightly open. Billy knew, he knew that he had firmly closed that door when he came in, because there was a draft that came right through that door and went straight for his feet. No matter the temperature in the warehouse, what with the heating and the lamps and the machines, his feet were like ice when that door was open even an inch, and he was not cold, and had not felt any cold all afternoon.

Billy practically ran to the stairs; he wasn't certain if he simply wanted to prove he wasn't going insane, or if he really wanted to meet the mysterious young woman; he simply didn't care. He did hesitate for a moment at the foot of the old spiral iron stairway, and then moved up it slowly enough so as not to make any noise. He wasn't sure why, but he unexpectedly had the idea that he really shouldn't be doing this, but moved on anyway. Once at the top of the stairs he took a deep breath, then leaned around the corner of the archway that led to the hall were the Master Cutter and the other shop heads had their private offices. The reserve lighting gave its usual dim glow over the corridor which was, in another act of questionable Victorian design taste, painted black and decorated with silver murals depicting forests filled with trolls and hags and ravens and any number of other gruesome things from fairy tales, before they had been 'sanitised for your protection' by over-protective adults.

The light was on in the Master Cutters office, causing the frosted glass door to glow from within. Billy walked as quietly as he could manage towards the office, and flattened himself against the wall next to the door trying to make out the voices inside. He could hear a woman's voice, and the voice of the Master Cutter. There was a third voice as well, low and gravely, that he didn't recognise. It gave him a rather uneasy feeling, but it was the few snatches of the conversation that he could make out that made him start to feel confused and somewhat anxious.

"…these spells, you understand, are very dark…"

"I of course learned extensively about the practice of tell-gur and it's ….killing any number…"

"…new style of spells….goblin magic being what it is…."

"…can be trusted to keep the goblin's secrets, of course…."

"Wizards on the continent…run in with a nest of griffins…."

"…not a…I've experience with griffins…yes, as pets, actually…."

"…runic curses…."

"…hellhounds…."

"…Muggle police is not the issue so much as their Interpol organisation, I suspect…."

"….Would you mind very much casting us a few samples of…."

"…Rowan wood and wolf's hair…."

"…execution is inevitable…."

At that last comment Billy backed away from the door, now starting to feel vaguely panicked. What the hell was going on in that room? And what the hell were they even talking about? Oh my god, what if the Master Cutter belongs to one of those freak cults they always do specials about on Fox?

He backed away down the hall, backed carefully down the stairs, and then went back over to his work space. He sat there with his head on the desk and his hands over his head for a long while, wondering why he was going crazy. He hadn't done anything too experimental in college; he was too much of a wimp….

"Hello."

Billy couldn't believe his ears. Slowly he raised his hands enough so he could move his head slightly and glance to his left. The strange woman stood there, arms crossed, looking very amused.

"You're real…." He managed to whisper. This caused her to laugh a little and nod.

"Quite real, thank you. You're very lucky, you know; they were too preoccupied to realise you were there."

"I'm sorry?"

"Are you? I'm Roarke. Nice to meet you."

He actually blushed at that and sat up fully now, swivelling his stool to face her.

"Sorry," she continued, "that was rather awful. I'm afraid spending the holidays with my family has had a terrible influence on me."

"No, no…I'm Billy, though, actually…." He stammered to a halt and watched her. She held a hand out to him, which he stood up and shook carefully. Her hands were rather coarse, and her grip very firm. But her eyes were soft and the oddest shade of grey…and for some reason seemed familiar.

"Billy. You should leave with me right now, while they are still busy and haven't cottoned on to the fact that you're in here. Wasn't this place closed for the holidays?"

"Um, yes, but I thought I'd get…."

"Why didn't you go home to America," she interrupted him, even as she leaned over to pick up his bag and coat, handing the coat over even as she waved a hand in the direction of the door.

"I...but…" he wasn't sure at all as to what was going on, but Roarke simply shook her head and took hold of his arm, pulling him to the exit.

"Come on, we'll talk outside. Please, this is really for the best; you can trust me."

Billy simply blinked, then let her lead him outside of the building, watching as she seemed to reach clear across the entry hall to snag what must be her own coat as they walked through the door without breaking a step. It was late afternoon now, and the snow had lessened somewhat, but it was quite cold. He pulled on his coat even as Roarke dropped his bag carefully on the ground so she could wrap a beautiful black velvet cloak around her. Billy finished fastening his buttons when he looked back up and opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat as he watched her give a little flick of her wrist, and his bag literally jumped off of the ground where she had placed it and into her hand.

Roarke looked back up at him, and seeing his expression, gave a small wink.

"Now, Billy, never seen a bit of harmless magic before? I bet you have; but I bet like most Muggles you were too preoccupied to notice what was happening. Shame that, there are all sorts of things to pay attention to in life, you know."

"Magic? As in 'hocus pocus'?"

"That's actually a Muggle expression based on a religious expression from the 12th century. I can assure you that I could scream 'hocus pocus' to my heart's content and absolutely nothing would happen; other than my loosing my voice of course." She smiled at him again, and Billy couldn't have cared less if she was a cult member.

"Will you come and have a drink with me?" he blurted out.

Roarke stared at him with a rather amazed expression, and then she started to laugh.

"Sorry! I…I'm very flattered, really. That was simply…rather abrupt, don't you think?"

Billy nodded sadly and stared at his feet for a second, but then looked back up at her and managed a smile.

"Well it was heartfelt. Can't I convince you to explain why I needed to leave? And why I find myself standing here in the snow with a beautiful strange woman who does magic tricks?"

Roarke chuckled quietly. "Hmm. Very charming; I know the type, mate, and I'll tell you right off I've an older brother who has a habit of doing things to boys who make clumsy passes at his sister."

Billy felt himself blush under her direct and still rather amused look, but before he could say anything else, they both heard a muffled banging sound from inside the shop. The young woman immediately dropped his bag on the ground and reached into her cloak, coming back with a…stick…which she held in front of her steadily and moved back towards the front doors.

"Don't tell me, that's a magic wand?"

Roarke turned and put a finger to her lips with a look that silenced any other comments he might make, and he took a few automatic steps backwards. He watched Roarke standing there tense and staring at the wooden panelling in front of her as if she could actually see through it. Slowly she glanced over her shoulder and whispered, not looking at him and leaning a little closer to the door, "Exactly how well do you know your Master Cutter?"

"Wataweet? He's, well…I guess I don't know much….What is going on?"

"I'm trying to figure that out…. Look, you go home. Now. And next time your employer tells you not to come in…."

She didn't finish as they heard another loud noise from inside, followed by what Billy could have sworn was profanity but he couldn't place the language. The tone was unmistakable however and needed no translation. Roarke gave him one last scowl and jerked her head indicating he should clear out, then slipped carefully back inside the building once more. Billy, naturally, went in right behind her.

There were the sounds of a struggle coming from the direction of the workroom; tables being banged, instruments falling on the floor in loud clatters, and various sundries smashing. There were also odd popping and gushing noises Billy couldn't place, and an odd stench that had nothing to do with the various cleaning solutions and machine coolants they used was seeping through the air. Roarke was crouching low to one side of the entry, watching whatever was happening intently. Billy came up behind her, but wasn't five feet from her when she spun disturbingly quickly and levelled her stick at his chest. Instinctively he froze.

"Are you trying to get hurt?" she hissed. "Get the bloody hell out of here right now! Follow me…"

She stood up, and took a step towards him, and then something huge appeared in the doorway. Billy gave an astonished squeak, but it was enough to signal Roarke, and she turned back, this time shouting something. A light came from her wand, and shot like a bolt of red lightening straight into the chest of whatever the thing was in the doorway. It seemed to sneeze, violently, then fell to the ground trembling and making odd gurgling noises. Billy gaped at it even as Roarke stepped around it carefully to peer into the workroom.

"What the hell…" She vanished into the next room. It took Billy a few moments to realise she was gone, and in a rush of panic he followed her, rather than do the logical thing which would have been to have left and spend another sleepless night in bed with the covers over his head.

The workroom looked like a tornado had gone through it, and whatever had caused the uproar was now upstairs, as more bellowing, screaming and smashing sounds were coming from above. Roarke was now standing at the bottom of the stairs and gave Billy another incredulous look when he ran up panting next to her.

"If you don't get out of here you're going to end up like that troll, or worse!"

"Troll!?! That thing was a troll?"

"Oh for gods' sake!"

She turned to him and raised her wand. Before she did anything, though, there was a tremendous crash and Billy watched Wataweet, the Master Cutter, sail out of a window on the second floor and come crashing down on a table. As he flew through the air, three more of the huge beasts came lumbering out onto the landing and struggled to fight past each other to get down the staircase. As the old spiral staircase was of narrow design, only one could fit at a time. While they struggled to figure that out, with much bellowing and more of the odd sneezing noises the one in the entry had made, Billy saw Wataweet struggle to his feet. This is so not happening….

Roarke called out his name and told him to stay where he was. His response was to point his own wand at her and send a shower of yellow sparks in her direction. Roarke grabbed Billy and pulled him to the side even as she did something that caused the sparks to fizzle and die a few feet from their faces, but Billy felt a raw heat blow over him as she did this. Wataweet, in the moment she was occupied, yelled something else, causing a fire to appear in front of him. He threw something into the flames, then stepped into them, and vanished.

Roarke gave the still struggling trolls one glance before she went over to the fire, which promptly fizzled and died. She swore heartily and actually stamped the small dark spot where the flames had been, then she said something else and waved her wand. Whatever she was expecting to happen didn't seem to, and Billy heard her actually growl.

At that moment, the trolls figured out how to come single file down the staircase. Billy stood frozen to the spot, watching them draw closer, when he suddenly felt the back of his coat grabbed, and bright green flames seemed to engulf him as he spun wildly into darkness.

***

Madame Gully Preportikille's cumbersome, dry and painfully over-intellectualised 63rd revised edition of her definitive text on the biology of Bundimuns was one more unintelligible paragraph from being blasted into pieces small enough for one of the little buggers to feast on for a week. How the woman had ever come up with a theory on how there were political implications from the fact that the pest was actually a perfect example in nature of the perfunctory exactitude by which life sought to balance itself against the real need for reprocessing matter in order to further contemplate the true role of the intellectual mind in the development of civilisation was incomprehensible. And it was also, quite frankly, truly pointless.

Griffin finally had had enough, after reading the same paragraph for the fourth time and being no further in comprehending what good lady Preportikille was trying to say. He was starting to agree with Gary's opinion that the woman was paid by the word and that there was just something *wrong* with anyone who would publish a 432 page book on Bundimuns in the first place. But the fact was he *still* had to finish both his Care of Magical Creatures paper on the little wretches and his potions paper on the use of Bundimuns in cleaning solutions. At least Professor Snape's assignment was, as usual, straightforward and reasonably easy to get going. But the simple fact that Professor Tully seemed as enamoured with the 'majestic simplicity' of the animal as Madame Preportikille was made her assignment difficult. To Snape they were disgusting pests whose only use came in making potions. To Tully, they almost seemed to be a persecuted sub-section of wizard society. Griffin gazed out of the window at the light city snow and wondered if the woman had ever filed a motion with the Pest Sub Division requesting amnesty for them. Thanks to the type of cases his father preferred to bring before the court, he had heard of far stranger requests.

He broke his musing as the clock called out that it was time for him to leave, and Griffin tossed the hated tome onto the couch as he jumped up, apologising to both grumbling cats as he did so. He collected his things and made his way out of the library with both cats still trailing behind him and crabbing about the loss of their heating pad. He stepped into his mother's workroom across the hall before leaving.

"Mum?"

"Hmmm? What is it, Baby?"

"I'm just going to go and meet Gary and Annie. I'll be back…."

"Before midnight," said Liz, raising an eyebrow at him and giving him a look that dared him to challenge her that Sirius had said he could stay out later. Griffin grinned and gave a slow nod.

"Midnight. Right; home before the witching hour turns me into a pumpkin."

"This witch will do you far more than give you the experience of seeing the world from the perspective of a gourd if she has to come looking for you. Again."

"Got it."

"Good. Have fun. And Griffin?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm totally overcome by all the mushy feelings this season brings out in me. Always remember that I love you; very much."

Griffin actually went a little red, but came back into the room on impulse and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. "I never forget that, not for a second. I love you too, Mum."

Griffin got to the front landing, put on an old leather Muggle jacket of Sirius', and turned to yell goodbye to his father before opening the front door. He could just make out Sirius calling back to mind not getting snow all over the front hall again just as he pulled the door open to release a rather large pile of snow onto the stone. Griffin kicked most of it out before stepping out into the street and pulling the door shut with a decidedly loud "What was that? Sorry! See you later!" Well if I could do proper magic during the holidays I could have cleared that up a lot better.

Griffin trotted down the road to the tube station, grinning to himself. He loved taking the London Underground, as the Muggles were the best free entertainment to be had as far as he was concerned. Not that he was the only wizard down there, but most witches and wizards were actually rather terrified at the whole idea of riding some great noisy car under the earth powered by some 'mysterious' Muggle technology. Griffin was quite sure Muggles familiar with wizard transportation were equally horrified by Floo powder.

They had only two more weeks before returning to Hogwarts for the rest of the year. Griffin was already dreading leaving the familiar comfort and odd dotage of his parents more than he usually did; he had a feeling it was going to be a long few months back up there. Nothing further had been said by anyone about his temper tantrum over Gary taking Annie to the Yule Ball, but that silence couldn't last. He and Gary had 'made up' this morning as boys usually do, without saying a word, but with both of them understanding there were no hard feelings. Annie was not going to be so easily placated. She had been a little cool with him, but on such an almost imperceptible scale nobody but himself would have noticed. He was beginning to doubt even he had noticed, and was worried that he was just 'fretting'. His mother's only comment on the entire subject had been that Remus was a wonderful role model for many things, but the fretting was not something Griffin, or anyone, should emulate.

Griffin sat down on one of the train's rather natty looking old seats and casually pulled out yesterday's edition of 'The Daily Prophet', after first double checking that he was the only magical member of his car. Unfolding the paper loudly, and holding it up to hide his grin, he tried to look as casual as possible while still keeping an eye over the top of the page to see when one of the Muggles would notice the large photo of Gringotts on the front was in fact host to any number of figures moving up and down the street in front of the building and entering and exiting the large front doors. Or perhaps they would see the witch on the back page in the advert for some new 'designer robe' shop strutting back and forth with a pouty and vacant look on her face as she swirled the fabric of her rather flimsy garment back and forth.

After about five minutes he saw the enormously fat and nasty looking man across the way do a double take so fast that what was left of his thin blonde hair slipped out of its comb-over. Griffin sank a little lower in his seat so he could completely hide his face as he fought not to laugh. Once he'd regained his composure, Griffin quickly rustled the paper loudly and folded it back up so that it rested on his knee and he was carefully studying the front page, chin in hand. He could feel the eyes of the Muggle, though, and counting off just the right pause he finally glanced up and caught the man's eye. The man jumped a bit, and even seemed to give a small squeak, but stood up before saying anything and waddled off to find another seat as far away from Griffin as possible, for some odd reason walking sideways so that his back was turned away the entire time.

Griffin shifted his hand so that it now covered his grin. There seemed to be three reactions to this exercise; ignore it and pretend you didn't see what you did, ask Griffin for a closer look (which was actually annoying, because he would then have to beat a hasty retreat at the next stop while chanting 'don't see me' spells that didn't require a wand under his breath and wait for the next train), or move away. Quickly.

Griffin couldn't help but wonder if the man had really intended to get off at the next stop, but instead decided to actually read the paper as the Underground took him off towards Diagon Alley. He was rather surprised to see that the main article was actually about Gringotts announcing that they were seriously considering changing security measures at the main branch, though they were (as usual) not forthcoming with their reasons. They did make several nasty 'for the record' comments about the talents of the Ministry of Magic's Enforcement Arm, and the intellect of Dexter Tanner, however, but that was customary. Griffin puzzled a bit, and wondered if this didn't have to do with whatever his father and Remus were up to concerning the Goblins. He opened the paper to follow the story onto the next page, and found there a picture of three of the most unattractive looking goblins he had ever seen, and that was saying something. As they sneered at him out of the picture, Griffin read the caption that identified them as the Chief of Gringotts and two of his key security personnel. The one on the right looked appropriately sly, but the one on the left actually made Griffin shiver. He had a markedly nasty grin, revealing he was one of those goblins with exceptionally pointed teeth, and a sinister look to him that suggested he was up to something rather nefarious indeed.

Before he finished the article, the train arrived at his stop, so Griffin tucked the paper into one of the enchanted pockets Sirius had made for the coat to hide wands and the like, and ran up the steps of the station to cross the street and walk down a few blocks to the Leaky Cauldron. It was still snowing lightly, and there was a hint of ice on the sidewalk that forced him to walk slower than he would have cared to.

Once he reached the pub, Griffin hesitated a moment, then took a deep breath and entered behind two other young wizards who looked familiar, but they ignored him and pushed their way into the crowded room. Griffin stopped just inside the door and scanned the crowd, looking for Annie and Gary. He saw Annie first, leaning against the bar at the far end of the room near the fire, and felt the familiar butterflies she had started giving him about seven months ago. Seven months, 3 weeks, 4 days and about 3 hours, I think. You're in trouble, boy.

"Well, well, if it isn't the Idiot Boy," she smiled at him as he came over to her. Griffin bowed deeply and was very happy to hear her laugh and watch her drop him a small curtsey in return.

"Hey," was all he managed, instantly feeling a slight flush at how fantastically daft that sounded to him. Annie just smiled wider.

"How was your day then? I slept most of the day, honestly. At least, I was sleeping until Daddy snuck in and dumped a large handful of snow on my feet and started a rather wild snowball fight even Mum got involved in."

Griffin laughed. "That's quite an accomplishment, considering Katie's aversion to being cold and wet."

"I think she was happy to help me gang up on daddy once she discovered he'd dumped snow all over her couch."

"And her daughter?"

"Her daughter can fight back. Her couch is not so gifted."

"Ah," Griffin found himself at a bit of a loss for words, or rather more frightened that he might just be compelled to utter words he was not really ready to deal with. He was spared at that moment, however, as Annie pointed past him and then waved.

"Here comes Gary; want a drink, Black?"

"Capital suggestion, Lupin."

Gary came up to them just as Annie turned to signal the barmaid to come over. He gave Griffin a small clap on the shoulder and a smile, then pulled him slightly away from the bar to whisper at him.

"Griffin, I've been thinking about our disagreement…."

"Gary…."

"Listen; I had a long talk with my dad. I'm not going to give you details, but I'm going to say this. I know what's going on in that odd brain of yours, and I'm telling you, right now, to do something about it. The next chap won't be so…understanding."

Griffin looked at Gary carefully, and Gary gave another small smile and a shrug. "I'm not going to fight a loosing battle, Idiot Boy."

Griffin scowled at Annie's head for a moment, then looked at Gary and started to say something, but Gary stopped him.

"Look, mate, you need to know that she spent most of the night dancing with me, but looking at you. That's all you're going to get from me, and I think it's more than enough."

"She was just mad at me…."

"Yes, she was. Furious. But not for the reason you think she was. I wasn't 'muscling in', Griff, I just…well of course I was happy to have such a date, and yes I loved being with her, but she's not available. We all know that. Well, everyone but you it would seem."

"What on earth are you two whispering about?"

Gary and Griffin both turned to see Annie looking at them and holding three pints of Butterbeer in her hands. Griffin felt panicked, but covered for it by reaching to take two of the glasses from her.

"The essay on Bundimuns," he said roughly, looking at Gary and daring him to do something. Annie saw the look and scowled a bit.

"Rubbish. Whispering about the lovely Raven over there, are you?"

Griffin and Gary both turned to see that indeed Raven Brocklehurst was seated a few tables away, surrounded by about six boys from various houses in their year at school. Even the Slytherins had a thing for that witch. Griffin took a deep breath and turned to face Annie's scowl.

"Think I should go over there and tell them she can't dance to save her life?"

This had the desired effect of first startling Annie, then coaxing a rather large smile from her.

"Let them figure that out for themselves."

Griffin sipped his drink and ignored it when Gary deliberately trod on his foot.

Annie turned to say something to Gary, when there was a loud thud heard from the fireplace, and two figures toppled out onto the hearth. Most of the people near the fire simply moved a step back and didn't break their conversations, while a few others laughed or chuckled. Griffin glanced to see who had bunged up floo transport so badly, and practically dropped his drink when he saw Roarke pulling herself up and dragging a stunned and ill looking young man with her. She gave him a rather disgusted little push, and ran a hand through her hair to get it out of her eyes.

"Roarke!"

Roarke turned to look at Griffin and obviously noted that Gary and Annie were also standing there looking at her with surprised and equally amused expressions. Roarke grabbed the still dizzy looking man by the arm of his coat, marched up to them, and accepted Griffin's drink when he held it out to her. She took a big gulp, coughing slightly as she panted for air. Griffin gave her a whack on the back and took the glass back, then offered it to the strange man. He simply opened and closed his mouth a few times, not saying anything, and shaking.

Roarke sighed and leaned against the bar, nudging Griffin to move over and give her more room.

"Thanks. This is Billy. He's just met trolls for the first time."

Annie gave him a sympathetic look and patted the man on the arm. "And it looks like his first trip through the Floo network as well. Are you alright? Let me get you a drink. One of my mother's tonics would be more appropriate, but you'll have to make do with a drink."

Roarke gave Griffin a wry smile, and then asked the barmaid for two firewhiskeys. Griffin and Gary both let out teasing whistles of admiration at Roarke which she ignored. She pressed one of the drinks into Billy's hand, and then put her hand on his chin to force him to look at her.

"Drink. Now."

Griffin had to laugh as the man drank without another question, and then tried to look sympathetic as the man took far to large a mouthful and turned purple and gasped as the whiskey went down.

"Should have told him to 'sip', Firecracker."

"You may have a point, Griffin. Look, do me a favour, Gary; is your mum home?"

Gary nodded.

"Can you trot back there for a moment and ask her to meet me in front of Gringotts as soon as possible? I have a feeling something rather sticky is going on, but I want her opinion."

"Sure. Should I mention the trolls and the Muggle here?"

Annie and Roarke both chuckled as they looked at each other, shaking their heads firmly, and Roarke raised an eyebrow at Gary. "Let's just save that exciting bit for the moment; I really don't want to kick up anything if this is just a, well, personal argument. Why I want to talk to your mum and not Harry or, gods help poor Billy here, my dad. Let's bring a voice of reason in here before both he and I start in on getting lectured, shall we?"

"Got it," he grinned as he moved to the fireplace.

Griffin and Annie exchanged a long look before Roarke put down her glass and reached to take Billy's arm once more. He didn't protest, but he still didn't say anything as she led him with her towards the backdoor and the entrance to the Alley.

"Oh, we are so going to find out what's up," said Griffin, and instinctively took Annie's arm himself and pushed her in front of him. "Follow that wild sister, Lupin."

"This may not be wise," she said, amused, but she didn't stop. "Your dad will flip if this gets nasty and you get us in the middle of it."

"The incident in France was so not my fault I'm not even going to grace that with an answer, Lupin."

"Face it, Black, it takes a lot to get Sirius worked into a dither, but that whole bikini thing did it."

"He was just jealous he missed it, that's all."

Roarke was just getting the entrance to the Alley open when they caught up. Griffin was rather surprised that she didn't make to stop them following her and the Muggle, and decided to see if she would let them in on what had happened.

"So, how was the job interview?"

"Very interesting, actually. I met this Slipnod and a wizard named Wataweet in one of the jeweller's shops the bank uses to front cash back to the Muggles and…other things. I thought it was odd, but based on what they told me, it seemed to make sense at the time. However, as I was leaving, something happened. Billy here was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Wataweet was attacked by trolls who were obviously in cahoots with goblins. Which goblins will be the operative question, I think."

Griffin looked at Billy, who was now looking at the scene around him with an even more blank expression. "I saw in the paper that Gringotts is threatening to step up their security."

"I read that too. Maybe now we know why; to attack one of their chief wizards who was so concerned that he'd got permission to hire me on to look into an 'issue' they were having with some 'new spells'…it's all a little strange."

Billy stopped walking at that point and looked at Roarke. "Where are we?"

"We're in London, a few blocks from your office. Don't worry about it, I promise it will all be a bad dream soon enough."

"Yeah…yeah…I've had a lot of those lately…."

Roarke looked at Griffin and Annie for a moment, then faced Billy fully. "You have? What about?"

"Um…a few things…I was attacked by these midgets with sharp teeth in one. Really creepy."

Gary ran up to them at that point, looking a little disappointed.

"Um, bad news; mum and dad seem to have taken the twins out somewhere. Next suggestion?"

Before Roarke could respond, however, the shrill sound of a goblin whistle was heard, and a small band of goblins wearing Gringotts livery popped up in front of them. The goblin in front Griffin recognised as one of the goblins he had seen in the paper. It gave Roarke a slimy, toothy grin.

"Miss Lupin? Would you be so very kind as to join us?"

"I beg your pardon, Slipnod. I don't believe I accepted your position, however I do need to speak with…."

Slipnod wagged one long finger and Roarke stopped talking with an odd look on her face.

"We'll discuss this in a more private setting, I think. As you are aware, something has…happened…."

Griffin stepped up next to Roarke and glared at the goblin.

"What are you doing? How dare you cast a spell on her! Let her go this instant!"

Griffin felt a hand on his arm, and glanced over to see Roarke give him an odd smile.

"Griffin, what are you talking about? I haven't been cast at," she said quietly.

"But…"

"I just shut up, Idiot Boy, a concept I understand you may be stumped by. But thank you for being so gallant."

Slipnod gave a low growling laugh. "How sweet. Now, time is of the utmost importance…." His voice died as another goblin whistle was heard, and another 20 goblins popped onto the street behind the first group, this time with a very old and very, very mean looking goblin at their head.

"TRAITOR!" he shrieked! "SHOULD HAVE GUESSED IT! YOU ALWAYS WERE A SLIMLY AND DEVIOUS LITTLE…."

They didn't learn what the goblin was going to compare Slipnod to as Slipnod cut him off with a loud bang, and a huge cloud of foul smelling blue smoke. Griffin gagged and waved his hands in an effort to see what was going on, and succeeded only in smashing his hand against what he assumed to be the head of a goblin.

"Oi! Do watch it!"

"WHAT!?!"

The screamer goblin seemed to have moved forward, and was now standing in front of Griffin. Slipnod himself had vanished. Griffin glared down at the furious little face and was about to say something when Roarke hissed in his ear.

"Do the words 'governmental incident' mean nothing to you Griffin?"

"Oh Roarke, I think you might be a little far off with that…."

"Rubbish! Do you KNOW who that is?"

"This little old wrinkly one?"

"That's Kentvicks! He's the head of Gringotts!"

"Ah."

"Yes, 'ah'."

Kentvicks had gone back to screaming, drawing a large crowd around him at this point, and Griffin looked up to see several enforcement wizards now trying to reach them, but the goblins with Kentvicks had made a circle around himself, Roarke and the Muggle standing by Kentvicks and were now involved in a stand-off of sorts.

"Roarke?"

"Don't say another word, Griffin, just stand here quietly and let this get dealt with."

This would have been excellent advice under normal circumstances. However, what they did not know, but which their grandchildren and further generations of young witches and wizards would hear about in 'The History of Magic' in years to come was that this was officially the moment the 73rd Goblin Rebellion started.