Dennis told no one, living or dead, he went to visit Cameron. He suspected his parents and Professor Flitwick would take turns tearing strips out of him. Lord North and Lady Hughes would likely subject him to long lectures about foolhardy actions. Telling Peeves would ensure everyone in Hogwarts knew, and, thus, Professor Flitwick and his parents. Furthermore, the detail did not seem relevant to his work with Mr. Odpadki and the Rapid Removal crew. In short, the only person he could tell already knew: Cameron.
"Come on, Creevey, say it. Something is bothering you, and I don't feel like cleaning up any more mess than we've already got to work with," Sasha, Mr. Odpadki's most capable child, pestered him.
They got an emergency call from the Magpie Hill community about a creature a person tried to create. They tried to combine an everlasting bird with the FiendFyre spell to grow their own phoenix, and now a crazed flaming creature threatened to burn down the community and the surrounding forest. When asked why they did not call the Ministry's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the caller reportedly mumbled an incomprehensible answer. Mr. Odpadki made a curious notation on the work order, and Sasha interpreted it to read everyone in the town would likely get arrested because such an experiment could not go unnoticed. The fact phoenix feathers commanded a high price went unspoken but assumed. Thus, the man sent his two most able workers to sort out the mess and ignored Dennis' complaint he did not possess enough experience.
"Sasha, I swear if you tell anyone this, I'll… I'll… something," he muttered a useless threat.
"Oh, yeah? Like what?" Sasha gamely enjoined him.
"Like… find a new job where my clothes don't attack my mum."
Sasha snorted.
"And move to Nottingham," he added in a menacing tone.
The woman, a good six years older, made a dismissive face.
"And I'll tell your dad it was your idea."
"You wouldn't dare, you moldy chizpurfle! Dad wouldn't believe you anyway!" Sasha logically countered.
"But would he be happy with me leaving? Plus, I can say the reason started on this ride to the job site, and that wouldn't be a lie," Dennis verbally parried.
Sasha actually drove better than her father, and she captained a 1992 Land Rover Range Rover with consummate authority. The vehicle did not act like a normal Range Rover or any other auto other than Kate. First of all as Dennis noticed, the gear shift contained three extra forward gears and one extra reverse gear. He also could not find a button or a lever that engaged the four-wheel drive universal. However, the Range Rover felt like it propelled itself with all wheels. The V8 engine growled in peculiar manner. It did not purr. It did not roar or rumble. It truly growled in a very animalistic fashion. Several motorists on A406-M11, that they picked up from the A13, actually gave them space or moved to a different lane. It stood to reason by Dennis' calculations that whatever permission Mr. Odpadki got to modify Kate got stretched to cover Sasha's vehicle.
"You're a cheat, know that?" Sasha grumbled at him. "Besides, when have I ever let slip with anything you've ever told me? Hmm?"
"Alright. Fair point there," he agreed. It took one second to pry open on his jaw. "I think someone is having me followed and is planning on killing me to get what Thomas left me."
"Dennis!" The woman yelled as the Range Rover swerved a little from her reaction. Two car spaces opened up before and aft of them. "What in the Seven Hades are you saying?"
Dennis marveled at the collective Odpadki knowledge of the different forms of hell created by the multitude of religions on the planet. They could mix and match with remarkable ease and created an elaborate catalog of vocalizations.
"I'm saying some bloke came up to me in a coffee shop, told me a lot about what I've been up to, and said I should show him a list of items Thomas gave me. He didn't say it, but he made it clear his employer wants something. When I told him to shove off, he said I was making it difficult for myself and choosing the hard way," he gave a truncated description.
Sasha drove in silence and scowled at the road ahead of her. Dennis understood it to be her thinking face. After a minute of wordless driving, she said: "Keep an eye out for the A104. We'll be coming up on it in a little while."
"Sure," he agreed and started take mental notes of the signs he saw.
"Denny, you're not pulling one on me, are you now?"
"Wish I was. Never got the bloke's name or who he worked for. Told me I'd find out if I agreed to do business with them."
"Ever see this man before?" Sasha wisely inquired.
"No, and I pulled my brain apart wondering if I did. Never have," Dennis emphatically stated.
"And you think he means you real harm?"
Their northward trek began to gently bend to the west. As promised, Dennis let his eyes sweep back and forth reading the signs as they approached. The markers for the A104 did not appear.
"It wasn't what he said… well, it was 'cause he knew so much about what I've been up to, but that way he said it gave me the creep's shivers," Dennis recounted, and it renewed the sense of simmering paranoia. "Every sentence was a threat somehow. I mean, come on, Sasha, I've hung out with a poltergeist for almost four years, so I know a threat when I hear one even if the words don't add up to it."
"You keep the strangest company, Creevey," the driver of the sports wagon grumbled.
"Yeah! Let me see you try to get on with that lot at Hogwarts when I was there," and then he changed his tone to one of a swaggering East Ender. "Oh, look! There goes the muggle-born poof. Let's have a go at him!"
"My uncle says the same thing happened to him, so I know you're not exaggerating," Sasha stated and did not mock. "By the way, my Uncle Ollie said him and Uncle Reg met a nice chap 'bout your age down in Brighton who they said lives in Gerrard's Cross if you're interested. Dad's been telling my uncles about you, and they were wondering if you needed some pointers."
"Oh, god! And did your dad tell them I've got a boyfriend in Nottingham?"
"He did, but he also didn't hide the fact Cam's a muggle."
Sasha did not mention it, at least not the same way her father would simply blurt out his opinion of Dennis' situation with the Cameron and the Ministry. However, she raised the specter of his problems. Dennis kept mum regarding the fact he visited his boyfriend. The warning from Chief Warlock Fiawander weighed heavy on him because it forced a separation with Cameron. Therein, Dennis thought, lay the reason Sasha broached the topic.
Dennis clenched his jaw, but said in a forced pleasant tone: "Thank your uncles for me, but I'm doing okay. I just got to get the Wizengamot to see reason. Cam isn't a threat."
Sasha's silence on the subject appeared telling. The vehicle drew closer to where the A406 branched to the left and the M11 continued to carry motorist northward. The Ranger Rover hewed closely to the left lane to keep on A406. The deft ability of the driver showed as she frequently navigated the wily vehicle.
"Denny, you know it's not going to turn out like you hope," Sasha declared as much as asked.
"No one knows that," he defended his optimism.
He watched as the woman shook her head a little, and it aggravated him. Everyone kept telling Dennis he would lose his case with Wizengamot, and they would wipe parts of Cameron's mind. He could not accept the government all magical kind in the United Kingdom looked to would act in such a grossly heinous manner over hardly an infraction at all. Dennis hunkered down in his seat and blankly stared at the information signs that whipped past them.
"Dennis, you have…" began his employer's daughter, his colleague, and friend in many respects.
"Why doesn't anyone ever fucking side with me on this? Huh? Why is it all I ever get is it's a lost cause and I'm putting my hopes into the wrong cauldron? No one knows how the Wizengamot is going to find, and I haven't even presented my side of the story… evidence yet," Dennis railed.
"Is that your heart or your mind talking, Denny? You're not a fool and you're not stupid, so which is it?" She challenged him.
"Both!"
"First loves are the worst," Sasha mumbled.
"Fuck off," Dennis burped at her.
They rode in cramped silence. Dennis wanted at least one person to stand with him, yet he found supporters in short supply. Even Peeves told him the case was doomed and did so in far too cheery a fashion. Professor Flitwick reserved his judgment as they planned his defense. However, Dennis felt the diminutive man believed they reached a Don Quixote – a movie his mother made him watch half a dozen times – moment. It seemed the younger wizard fought against a system that already determined the outcome and presented such a formidable barrier he might as well tilt at windmills.
"A104 coming up," he grumbled when he saw the sign. "Move to the right lane if you want to pick it up."
"Eh, it's a roundabout, but you're right," she replied.
In two minutes time they made to the transfer to the next road to take them in the needed direction.
"Be alert for Chingford Lane."
Dennis nodded and noted they entered a suburban area. After passing through a short stand of thin forest, they emerged into a neat bedroom community. Rowhouses stretch along the right side as traffic became stop-and-go as people sought different routes. They crawled up the A104, invariably called Woodford New Road and High Road, until the Range Rover reached the intersection with Chingford Lane. Sasha kept glancing at him during the transit, but Dennis did not take the bait. He could tell she wanted to lecture him on false hopes. Thus, silence of a very British kind awkwardness stemmed the conversation.
"Okay, we're going to be looking for a disguised road on our right. You know how to spot a glamour?" Sasha asked.
"Oh, gee, it's not like I didn't go to one of the finest magic schools in the whole damn kingdom," Dennis snarked at her. "Course I know how to spot a glamour!"
"Don't jump down my throat 'cause you're upset, Creevey!" Sasha yelled in return.
"Maybe if people supported me the way I support them, I wouldn't feel like I have to!"
"You're impossible."
They passed out of small neighbor and enter a section where the Epping Forest lined both sides of the road. Through hedges and trees Dennis could see a golf course. Entrances to a neighborhood dotted the left side. Sasha slowed down. Her auto sounded like it wanted to attack something, and he wondered it responded to its owner's mood. He did not care. Sasha joined the league of detractors and naysayers.
"There!" Dennis and pointed to a spot on the right side where the opening for a trail wobbled in his peripheral vision, the sure sign of a glamour.
"Oh, yeah. I see it," Sasha said a moment later.
As per the usual protocol, she pulled off onto the edge of the road just before the entrance and turned on the hazard warning lights. Dennis helped with the act as he studied maps until traffic cleared in both directions. With amazing skill and a vehicle that responded nothing like the cars his parents owned over the years, the Range Rover nearly hopped over the road and into the vaguely fuzzy area. As happened with Kate, the other magicked Odpadki hauler, Sasha's car slipped into an area no muggle ever purposefully saw. A single lane with a row of single-family houses interspaced on either side ran a goodly length through Epping Forest.
"That's not hard to miss," the driver and owner of the vehicle said when they traversed roughly ninety percent of the road.
"Flaming Thurston," Dennis rumbled as he saw their target.
Behind a house that looked straight out of the mid-eighteenth century a brick-walled courtyard held an iron cage with a warped bird-like animal held within. The bars of the cage glowed a bright orange color due to the fire erupting from the creature. It ran in a circle and shrieked like the banshee Dennis never got to see in Parkowen.
"I know this is going to upset you, but we have to kill it," Sasha stated without a moment's hesitation.
Dennis' head twisted to the side.
"Look, that is a menace. If it gets out of that cage and past those walls, it'll set this whole forest on fire, and even the muggles will notice that. And what's more, the thing is clearly in pain… like it's being burned alive every second," she explained in such a way Dennis knew she made a final decision.
"Yeah," Dennis quietly agreed. "How?"
"Know any fire suppressing spells?"
Dennis sat back and racked his brain. Something niggled at his brain, and then his entire body flinched in shock. He shoved the vile name of the spell as far back into his brain as he could, but the words opprimo anima continued to haunt him.
"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" Sasha chastised him.
"Just… an old memory," he said in a trembling voice. "So, know of a way to put out the FeindFyre?"
"Starve of it oxygen from what I've heard," she replied and shrugged. "Maybe if we can form some sort of bubble 'round it, and let that thing burn up all the oxygen."
Dennis pondered it some more and avoided one particular part of his brain. An old memory from his first year came to mind. He recalled watching the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and an idea gelled.
"What if we used a – I don't know – modified Bubblehead charm? I know it can keep out water, so it probably can keep out air. We just got make sure it isn't supplying air," he speculated aloud.
"And you think you can do this?" Sasha inquired with a detectable note of skepticism.
"I understand it in principle. We studied the Bubblehead charm in charm's class after the tournament challenge, so I understand all the basic principles involved. Just need to tweak it is all."
His boss's daughter stared at him for a few moments before she said: "Think about it while we go get a look at this thing."
Several people already stood between Sasha's car and the inferno bird. When they each opened a door to exit the vehicle, the screeching of the animal became even more horrifying and piteous. Whatever the enchanter attempted to do to the bird failed in a grotesquely spectacular fashion. Dennis found himself agreeing they needed to put down the poor, suffering bird. Sasha also appeared affected by the experience. She stomped up to the group of people watching them.
"Alright, which one of you idiots is responsible for this? Huh? Who?" She demanded.
Feet shuffled, eyes turned to stare at the ground, and no one claimed fault.
"Right! You don't tell me then we're off, and we'll notify the Ministry!"
"I did," an older woman said and stepped forward. "It was my husband's idea, and he was too afraid to do it, so I did."
"What spells did you use and in what order?" Sasha ordered the woman, and her words came out in a plume of vapor due to the cold air.
"Engorgio, repairo, deinfinitatum regio, and FiendFyre… in that order," the somewhat portly woman dourly intoned. Her hair looked singed on the ends, and her dark eyes cast furtively about. The heavy wool cloak wrapped around her also bore scorch marks.
"And no spell to control FiendFyre?" Dennis queried while jamming his hands into his coverall to keep them warm. His right hand slid up against his wand.
The group surveyed one another, and guilty expressions abounded.
"Couldn't find one, but… we thought with it being an everlast bird, it'd reform after the fire burned it to ash. Then we could pluck its feathers and… sort of set it on fire again," the spokesperson for the guilty party stated.
"Set it… again? Listen to that thing! Does it sound like it wanted to be set on fire the first time?" Sasha bellowed at them.
"Terrible mix of spells. Yes, the bird is larger than normal, but the regrowth spell is active the entire time while the FiendFyre is active. Basically, you set it up so the bird will be permanently tortured by regenerating while it is being burned alive, and it would never produce real phoenix feathers! Didn't anyone try to think this through?" Dennis joined in with Sasha's rampant disgust.
Sasha glanced at him, a worried look crossed her features, and she asked: "This isn't my area of expertise, Denny. Can you create the modified spell?"
"Let me think for a minute."
Dennis sank into a crouch, found a stick, and began to draw in the dirt. Sasha stepped closer to watch. The group of unintentional criminals also edged forward. Dennis started to draw numbers in the dirt while dissecting the Bubblehead charm as Professor Flitwick taught him years before. He mapped out the components and the proportions of thaumatic energy needed for each. After cancelling out the air resupply segment, he redistributed the leftover energy to the other elements. Then, Dennis went through the tedium of recombining the spell both on the ground and in his head. He renamed the spell Airtight Bubble, and forged the spell in Latin. It hove closely to the horrible spell of which he only knew the name.
"That's pretty damn advanced, Creevey. Think it'll work?" Sasha asked him as he crouched and repeatedly mumbled the name while focusing on the intent of the spell.
"I think it should, but it's going to take both of us. You need to focus on the parts and what you want them to do while you memorize the spell… here," he replied and jabbed at what he scrawled in the dirt. "I need to work out mechanical movements."
Dennis got up and moved away from the crowd. He went and hid behind his friend's car as he considered what wand movements would best activate the spell. In the end, he drew a circle three times in the air, and then on the fourth circuit he allowed the motion to spiral inward. Much to his delight and surprise, a small shimmering bubbled hovered in the air just before him. He cancelled the spell by using the general nix charm. It vanished. He then aimed his wand so the tip pointed somewhat further afield.
"Bullesco hermetica!" He incanted while performing the movements in a much larger size.
Seconds after he finished, a bubble big enough to hold him floated above the winter-tough grass. The force of it distorted the air and warped the images behind it. A grim smile appeared on his mouth.
"That is fucking astounding," a voice said from behind, and it caused him to start. "You do realize you're a superb wizard, Denny, and that's the reason why my dad wants you to stay on? He also pays you better than the other guys."
"I know. He told me. Tells me every chance he gets," Dennis panted out the words while his heartbeat slowed. "I like doing spells like this. I like knowing how and why they work. Don't forget I learned a lot from watching you and your dad modify spells."
"It shows, but… will this work?"
"I hope so. Fire, even FiendFyre, can't survive without oxygen and fuel. Neither can the bird. It may take a little while, but I'm pretty certain anything inside that bubble will die if it's not dispelled… and nix works fine to counter the charm."
He demonstrated.
"You thought of everything," Sasha quipped in an appreciative manner. "Mind giving me a quick lesson?"
"Sure. We need to get this right the first time."
"Don't we always?"
Despite his mix of feeling regarding the conversation in the Range Rover and finding a horror show at the job site, Dennis smirked in response. Many times in the past when they reengineered a spell, he and the Odpadkis would stand together and practice it. He recalled the time they sent a ball of compacted trash sailing into outer space. Sasha and her father worked out the components, and Dennis learned quite a bit from that experience. It connected directly to what Professor Flitwick and the other teachers at Hogwarts attempted to drill into his head. In life outside of the school, Dennis found urgent need often proved a good instructor. Hence, Rapid Removal concocted a number of modified and downright new spells to carry out their work.
It took ten minutes before either felt satisfied with the combined result. After which, Dennis and Sasha got as close to the flaming, screaming bird as they could tolerate. Powerful heat rolled off the animal in great waves. It seemed fortunate the deinfinitatum regio spell hemmed in the FiendFyre. It did not spread more than half a meter from the pitiful bird. The two then stood shoulder to shoulder and performed the spell in unison following a quick discussion on where they would aim. They drew a large circle in the air three times, and the let their wands spiral toward the center. All the while they incanted the words to activate the charm. A great sphere encased the bird and most of the FiendFyre. The level of radiant heat precipitously dropped. They also could no longer hear the anguished cries of the bird.
Someone sobbed behind them. Sasha spun around. Dennis turned more slowly.
"What you did here is unconscionable because that is a living thing you did it to," she barked at them. "There will never be enough shame you can feel for doing this!"
Dennis got a reminder of why he like the Odpadkis so much. At the core of Mr. Odpadki and his wife lay a tempered core of right and wrong. Their morals and ethics could not be questioned. This they passed on to their children and demanded the young Odpadkis adhere to it. Dennis also routinely got questioned in the same regard, and he found himself willingly falling into the line with the clan. The Odpadkis never sacrificed their scruples for their business.
It took thirty-five minutes before the FiendFyre died away, but not before completely incinerating the remains of the bird that expired fifteen minutes before. The FiendFyre spell got completely disrupted by the Airtight Bubble spell and gradually it extinguished. Magic could not overcome the basic necessities of life. As per her wont, Sasha made the townspeople watch every last minute of the process. Even when they dispelled the Airtight Bubble charm, they all continued to gaze, some in disgust and many in shame, at the pile of ash and melted iron.
"There. Done. Now pay up!" Sasha brusquely insisted.
A man stepped forward carrying a pouch. He hesitantly started to offer it, but halted mid-way. He eyed the Odpadki woman.
"The owner of the company said one-fifty, but that…" that frazzled looking man began to say.
"Was only half of what you should pay. My dad has a soft spot for idiots, so you got lucky," she neatly and viciously interjected. Then she jerked a thumb in Dennis' direction. "How much do you think it costs to have a caster like him on the payroll? He did what you could not!"
Dennis wanted to roll his eyes at her exaggeration, but he kept still. The fact the town wanted to renegotiate the price after the problem got solved made him angry. Hence, Dennis frowned in a dark and glowering manner. The man finished passing the bag to Sasha. The weight in galleons in the small satchel looked ample. The entire episode proved very expensive for the town and with good reason.
"You ever do something like this again, and it's straight to the Ministry for us. The lot of you should spend a weekend in irons along with having to pay this," Sasha continued to berate anyone who remained outside to watch the affair play out. "I'd normally say thank you for your business, but this was fucking terrible! Come on, Denny!"
Sasha whirled around and beat a furious path toward the Range Rover. Dennis followed, or rather got pulled into, her wake. Then entered the vehicle, and she turned over the engine. It once again growled in a somewhat disturbing fashion. Sasha put in into gear and drove in a tight circle until they face the opposite direction in which they came. She only paused at the exit from the lane to wait for traffic to clear. When it did, the Range Rover shot out on to Chingford Lane. Sasha appeared to be reversing the path the originally followed.
"Honestly, that was impressive what you did back there, Creevey," she said in her normal voice. "I don't think you appreciate how far you've come these last few months."
Dennis shrugged.
"And I get why you think no one is supporting you about Cam, but you should listen to what some of us have to say."
"Oh. So, when was the last time the Ministry said they were going to oblviate someone you love?" Dennis returned and tried to sound in control as his emotions began to roil.
"Never had to face something like that, I'll admit, but we've all had our run-ins with 'em. You know that. You've heard what it's cost my dad," she replied.
"And who lost part of their mind in that and got told who they can or can't love?"
Sasha made a snorting noise, and Dennis understood it to mean he backed her into a corner. She headed down the lane and eventually out of the forest. They passed through the area the entered barely an hour before.
"Just because it's not exactly the same doesn't mean others haven't suffered as well," Sasha spoke up as the sign for the A103 sprang into view.
A raw anger bubbled in Dennis' stomach. He folded his arms across his chest. His eyes tried to bore holes into the side of Sasha's head. Instead of lashing out, he composed himself. The younger magi inhaled once.
"Okay. Tell me the stories of your great suffering and how it compares to mine. I'd be really interested to hear it. I'm listening," he calmly stated.
The ride back to Hampstead became a long, quiet ride with Dennis staring at Sasha the entire time.
For the next three days Dennis thought over everything he discussed and experienced. He felt a sense of loneliness he would usually banish with a visit to Cameron. However, his paranoia regarding the Ministry stayed him from venturing to Nottingham. The phone calls with his boyfriend buoyed his spirits for only short periods. Aside from the constant worry over what might happen to Cameron, the meeting with the stranger in The Potion Room never strayed far from his thoughts. Questions began to percolate in his head about Lord North, and that caused mental duress for the young man.
The Gilded Sphinx in Gerrard's Cross, a magi restaurant hidden next to The Bull Hotel, seemed an unlikely place for Dennis to run into anyone he knew. He discovered the establishment through an advertisement in The Quibbler. While not an avid reader of the infamous tabloid, Dennis did find it amusing from time to time. It also served a purpose at least once in singling out a place where he could find real solitude instead of people carefully avoiding most conversations with him. The restaurant also did not seem to mind him sitting at a table reading so long as he ordered a meal, desert and paid for the occasional cup of coffee.
"So, you really found us through The Quibbler?" The waitress asked for the third time as she filled his cup.
"Yep. The daughter of the editor went to Hogwarts at the same time as me, but a few years ahead. Interesting person, so I get The Quibbler in support of her," he told the woman.
"I'll bet," the woman said and lingered since only three other tables hosted guests. "What so fascinating in that book of yours?"
"This? Just the history of English magical nobility in the middle country. I know it sounds boring, but some odd things went on in the areas between Leicester and Wakefield. I think Cromwell knew there were magical folk around there. He seemed kind of harsh…"
"Kid, I'm glad you enjoy it, but not really in my interests. Now, if you want to chat about quidditch, then I'm your gal. There's a world cup next year, so the competition is getting fierce. You got a team you follow?" She deftly interjected and redirected the conversation.
"I don't follow quidditch much, but when I do, I go for the Welsh National team," he truthfully stated.
"Figures you'd be for the Red Worm."
Dennis snorted at the derogatory name and asked: "I take it you're all for the Yellow Worms?"
The waitress threw her head back and laughed. She looked the role of a waitress in a restaurant any muggle would find normal. Only the odd stuffed heads of supposedly mythical creatures adorning the walls gave any real overt indication the place may not be all that normal. Dennis noticed early on they used conjured flames for their overhead lamps and the chandelier in the main part of the ceiling. Yet nothing else really stood out.
"Alright," she said after her laughter died down. "I'll leave you to your book. Wave if you want more coffee."
"Thanks," he replied to the two statements.
Dennis hunkered down to read the rather dry text before him. He wanted to find any shred of information he could regarding Nottingham. Thus far he found only a single mention of the magi Earl of Nottingham who died two years after inheriting the title from his father. The passage stated he gained his abilities through his mother, who came from a long line of witches and wizards. The eighth earl reportedly did not come from a magical line. Other than his short tenure and sudden death, the book did not list any achievements on Thomas' part. The book did state his brother Richard took up the title after him and held it for several decades. Dennis again found it exceptionally curious so little got said about a nobleman who practiced magic.
"Still weird," Dennis mumbled to himself.
"And that would be?" A voice asked.
Dennis nearly overturned the table from being startled and raced to save his cup of coffee from sloshing onto the book. When he managed to collected himself, he glanced up to find an unwanted round face with developing jowls set in a head wearing a yellow bowler. The man threw him a greasy smile and sat down completely uninvited. Around them none paid any notice.
"Quite feat you pulled over by Buckhurst Hill. Shame I didn't get to see how you did it, but putting out a FiendFyre bird sounds like a good trick," the man droned.
"Go away," Dennis said and slid the book closer to himself.
"How unfriendly of you! Here we thought you're an intelligent, polite bloke. Tsk, tsk, Dennis. What would your mother say about how you treat others?"
Dennis did not take the bait and remained focused on his book. He heard the sound of others chatting in the distance and the various clinks as cutlery and stoneware came into contact. The smell of his meal, dragon-fried steak with potato wedges and gravy, continued to linger in the air. He forced his eyes to stare at the page without actually reading the words.
"Found yourself a nice out of the way place," the man continued as if Dennis took part in the chat. "So, give any more thought about doing business with us?"
"What can I get for you, love?" The waitress asked as she approached the table.
Dennis glanced up at the arrival of the woman. Her clearly muggle uniform looked as if it arrived from the 1950s, so it fit right in. She stood waiting with a quill and pad.
"Any good pies today?" The man in the yellow bowler inquired.
"Got a good lingonberry one today. There's one piece of the sprite pie, but I'll warn you it's sour."
"The lingonberry sounds good, and a cup of coffee to go with it."
"Anything else for you, Red Worm?" The waitress inquired of Dennis in a playful manner.
"No, but I might need a refill in a while," Dennis answered and smirked at her.
"Okay, and I'll be back in a jiff with your pie and coffee, sir."
"Thank you," the man said in very pleasant manner.
The younger of the two men instantly bowed his head and stared at the page again.
"You do realize if you just show me the list, it'll go a long way in creating good relations between us," the unwanted guest at his table state. "Then, if we see what we're looking for, we'll offer you a good price, you'll accept it, and everybody walks away happy."
"Are you high?" Dennis blurted, a phrase he picked up from his friends in Nottingham.
The yellow bowler man glanced around and then down at the floor. He returned a puzzled gaze to Dennis.
"First, there's only a couple of items left for sale. Second, anything anyone wants to buy I clear with Lord North first, and he always wants to know who the purchaser is. He also gets a say in whether or not anything gets sold. Third, what you consider a good price and what I consider a good price might be miles apart. Fourth, I'm not interested in doing business with you. That's my decision," Dennis said and half-fabricated what he did with the inheritance from Thomas.
"Kid, don't you get this could go very bad for you if you don't play along?" The man overtly threatened.
It scared Dennis, but he did not let it show. Peeves trained him far too well to let a weakness peak through at an inopportune moment. Instead, Dennis narrowed his eyes and replied: "See? It's that kind of stuff right there that doesn't make me want deal with you. Now I'm going to have to go talk to my friends at the Ministry about you. They're not too keen on wizard-on-wizard violence after Voldemort."
The man flinched at the name, but did not appear to back down.
"Look, mate. That would be a very bad idea…"
"Why? 'Cause I would provide them with a detailed description of you?" Dennis interrupted and grinned. "Listen, I was at Hogwarts while Voldemort's forces occupied it, so there's not a lot you can say to scare me. Let me give you a better clue: one of my best friends is a poltergeist. Get it?"
"You really don't know who you're dealing with," the man in the yellow bowler spat.
The waitress returned bearing a plate with a piece of pinkish-red pie and a cup of coffee. She set it in front of the man. Once settled, she asked if she could get anything more for him. The man politely declined. It seemed he knew when to raise suspicions and when to hold back. The two men waited until the waitress departed. The younger of the two seized the initiative.
Dennis shrugged and said: "No, I don't because you won't tell me. So, I figure that means one of two things: either there is no one backing you and you're just trying to puff yourself up, or the person knows I'll start researching him… or her and that I really do have friends in the Ministry who might be interested in hearing a name. Now, I know Harry and Ron in the Aurors' Office, and I'm going to have a word with them 'cause I'm sick of your shit."
For the first time the man looked worried. Days and weeks of fear and frustration finally pushed Dennis into a cavalier frame of mind. He decided to press his very small advantage and leaned forward slightly.
"I may be young, and I know I look even younger, but I'm not stupid. Ever deal with any of Voldemort's cronies up close? Hmm? No? I did. Why the fuck do you think I always go to public places like this? I know a threat when I see one, and you are one."
The stranger sat back in the chair, took a bite of the pie, make an approving face, and then stared at Dennis.
"Know anything about poltergeists?" He queried when the silence persisted.
"Can't say as I do," the man rejoined and took another forkful of pie and shoved it into his mouth.
"They don't make fiends very easy. When they do, they tend to be a little over-protective," Dennis flagrantly lied. "Now, should something happen to me, my dead friend won't be too pleased. Since you've probably never seen a poltergeist in angry mode, let me simply say it scares the crap out of the teachers at Hogwarts. I've seen Peeves upset once, and I never want to see it again. Can't imagine what he'd do to you or your friend if it comes down to that."
"Thought ghosts and spirits couldn't leave their haunts?"
"You really don't know anything about poltergeists. Sure, they hang around their haunt… until you piss them off. Then, sheesh, then they will follow someone around and terrorize them to death. They'll do it for years, decades in some cases, until they feel their anger is satisfied."
The man gave him a dismissive snort. He put more pie into his maw and took a sip of coffee. He did not look as certain as he did when he asked the last question.
"Go read about it yourself. You don't want to mess with poltergeists or what keeps them calm. Why do you think the headmistress and the Ministry is on me all the time to tell them what I know? And you think you can apply pressure to me?" Dennis retorted and laughed because the truth aided him the last several points.
"Okay, let's say you've got this poltergeist friend…"
"Peeves. You can read about him."
"Fine, Peeves," the man grunted the name. "How would he even know anything happened to you and who did it?"
"'Cause we made an Unbreakable Vow with each other," Dennis coolly replied.
"You did not!"
"Test me. Use Revelio on me."
Dennis held still and waited. The man produced a thin, black wand from this jacket. He laid it in the palm of his hand, the tip pointing away from Dennis, and appeared to concentrate.
"Revelio Unbreakable Vow et persona per poltergeist," the yellow-hatted man incanted in impeccable Latin.
The wand spun around and even lifted up a little as pointed at Dennis, and very specifically at his head where the vow now resided. Dennis felt it slither around his brain. A smirk wiggled across his mouth.
"What is wrong with you?" The man hissed as he put the wand away. "That's the stupidest thing I ever heard of anyone doing!"
"Except it forges a permanent connection between me and Peeves. He is honestly one of my best friends, and I'd die before betraying him. So, if I'm willing to go that far and he knows it, what do you think Peeves would be willing to do for me?" Dennis concluded in a defiant manner, although he internally felt less certain if he spoke in fact.
The man in the bright yellow bowler gaped at him. He got the same response from anyone who heard he made a magical vow with a poltergeist. As far as Dennis knew, he seemed to be the first in recorded history to perform such an act with a spirit. However, he increasingly felt as though he did the right thing. Peeves seemed more relaxed around him, especially after sharing his personal story during the Yuletide. It led to the Unbreakable Vow because it took very little for Dennis to realize how much Peeves put on the line by sharing his life story. Dennis quite literally held the key to getting the poltergeist exorcised from the castle.
"So, what were you going to threaten to do if I don't do what you want?" Said the younger wizard and returned to main point of their undesired meeting.
"Telling you would take all the fun out of it," the man said and appeared to regain his earlier composure. "You just tipped your hand to me, so we can alter our plans. You might want to rethink going to the Ministry. Never know who might have eyes and ears over there."
Dennis started to laugh. He could not fully explain his reaction except he found the man subtly trying to liken himself to Voldemort during his heyday. Furthermore, even if the man in the yellow bowler did plant spies, he made a grand miscalculation.
"What makes you think I wouldn't share that bit of news with the people I know there?" Dennis chortled the question.
The man rewarded him with a frown. After few seconds he rose from his seat. One hand dug around in his plaid pants. Dennis held up his hand.
"The pie and coffee is on me. This conversation was really… enlightening."
"No," the man grunted and threw a galleon down on the table.
"Nice tip," I said and shrugged.
"Just remember I tried to talk some sense into you."
"What? Bullshit. You tried to threaten and scare me into getting what you want. I think you can go fuck yourself now."
Some part of Dennis began to channel the Odpadkis when a client tried to renegotiate a quoted price after finishing the job. Despite a nagging suspicion the man in the yellow bowler presented a real danger, the younger wizard grew tired of being afraid without a good reason. Hence, he put on his toughest face and simply stared as the man turned and departed.