Chapter Ten

A Couple of Drinks

1

The smell of coffee under his nose made Harry's eyes flutter open.

"You didn't come back home last night, so I thought I'd come to you," said the round bellied redhead bending toward him with a mug in hand.

Harry grinned sleepily at Ginny, taking the offered coffee. "Sorry," he said. "I'll bring you some tasty dirt tomorrow to make up for it."

She punched him lightly on the shoulder, but the bruise there overreacted a tad.

"Ow! You would choose that shoulder."

Ginny winced sympathetically and apologized. "I was going to say you looked unscathed, but never mind," she commented.

"No, I was pretty lucky by comparison," he said, stretching some. He realized he was still in the same chair where he'd fallen asleep in the parlor at HQ.

"Well, that's good to hear for once. Unfortunately, I've got some bad news."

"You're going to manage the Chudley Cannons?"

"No. I'm not going to manage anyone for a while."

Harry sat up straighter and frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The Holly Head coach sent me a letter this morning saying they didn't want me back until after the baby was born," she explained, looking downtrodden as she took the seat next to him.

"Those Harpies," Harry teased. Ginny wasn't amused. "Look," he tried again, "it's not as if they've sacked you. It'll only be a few more months and then you can go back – if that's what you want."

She still looked rather dejected.

"You won't have anything to do will you?"

She shook her head unhappily.

"You want to tackle the mountain of paper in my office?" Harry suggested jokingly. "You can fight crime on paper with each stroke of your quill. Or you could just push the mountain of paper onto a criminal's head – that would do the job."

She seemed to be seriously considering it. "You know, Harry – that's an idea."

"Really?"

"Well, I don't want to be your assistant, exactly," she admitted, "but I can assist you in finding a new assistant."

Harry lifted a black eyebrow at her in interest. "Tell me more."

At that moment, Alton and Charlie walked in. They seemed to have talked more since the previous night and where getting along quite well.

"So you don't have a house anymore?" Charlie was saying.

"No. I usually sleep at headquarters, but sometimes I crash at Logan's," Alton answered. "We're on the move so much, I hardly notice anymore."

Charlie laughed a little. "I know how that feels."

Alton spotted Ginny and a wide smile brightened his face. "Hi! I haven't seen you since December."

"I've changed a bit since then," Ginny said, patting her heavily pregnant midsection.

"Wow, yeah. Do you know if you're having a boy or girl?"

"Boy," Chalrie said before his sister could answer.

He grinned as Ginny pulled a face at him. "We don't know," she corrected.

"Face it, with the Weasley luck you'll have a pack of little hooligan boys," Charlie insisted.

"Well, I broke the chain of boys in our family, and I have a daughter," she countered, "Weasley luck or no."

"Well, you're the only one."

"What about Percy? He has a daughter," Harry pointed out.

"Percy doesn't count," Charlie said dismissively.

As they argued, Harry turned to Alton. "How is everyone?" he asked, referring to the Blood Traitors.

Alton started ticking names and injuries off on his fingers. "Dr. Thorpe said Gus's leg would be better in a few days, but he'd have a scar; Ferris is fine; Sydney is fine; Yvette will have a scar on her face for a while; Ima is fine; and Logan's hand will be fully functional, but will also have a scar – and I think he still has fangs."

"You're all collecting your battle scars at last," Harry said rather proudly. "You can't stay in this business very long without having marks to show it. How's your head by the way?"

"I feel like I drank my own body weight in beer and got the hangover without ever getting buzzed," Alton replied miserably.

Harry laughed. "Yeah, Luciano did that same souped-up stun on me. I'm sorry to say it'll take more than a day for that headache to go away."

Alton's demeanor suddenly darkened at the mention of Roman. "Hmm. Maybe I'll return the favor for you," he grumbled. "Lousy bugger…"

"Wait, what'd I miss?" Harry asked.

Alton quickly relayed what Jules had told Ferris over the phone, saying they couldn't be sure what was going on yet, but it was nothing good. It seemed this wasn't the first time the BT's second in command had been dishonest with them. "We're not allowing him in the basement anymore, because Jules thinks it's not safe to trust him," he concluded unhappily.

Harry frowned at him, asking: "You said Jules thought he was in charge of something big that would hurt a lot of people?"

"That's what Ferris told me," Alton nodded. "She said something catastrophic was going to happen."

Harry pondered this. "I should probably let Tonks know we need to be on the look out. Try to talk with Jules again – I realize she probably won't be able to tell you much, but any details would help us." He got up from the chair and kissed Ginny while she was in mid sentence with Charlie.

"Where are you going? You haven't eaten anything," his wife protested, forgetting her spat with her brother.

"Liberty is safe, but I still have a file full of other kids who aren't," he told her.

She heaved herself out of her seat and stood to leave. "Then, I'm coming with you."

Harry looked over his shoulder at Alton. "Do you think Mrs. Snook would let me talk to Trevor about the Optimates?"

Alton appeared hesitant. "Well, she told us to try not to remind him of it too much – he's been asked so many questions already and it's not like he remembers much. Plus, she's his guardian, so we can't really argue with her."

"So she would say no?"

The masked man shrugged, "I don't know. But if it's to save kids, she might ease up on the over protectiveness. I know Trevor would be willing to help."

Ginny said good bye to her brother and Alton as Harry stared out the door. The Auror called behind him: "Put in a good word for me, will you? I'll be there before noon to talk to her."

"Righto."

2

"Merlin's beard…"

Gus stood open mouthed inside the foyer of the Blood Traitor safe house. Where there had once been a small living room, there was now a gaping hole and a crumbling roof. The remains of the couch had been hurled halfway through the foyer wall and a wide scattering of bricks was the only thing left of the fireplace. The scene of the blast was a violent mess, but had long ago settled. Birds now chirped nearby and a peaceful breeze blew the morning air inside. A little song bird flittered in and landed on the haphazard leg of an overturned table.

Celeste walked out of the kitchen with one hand on her hip. "It doesn't look like she tried to get out any other way," said the plump woman flatly. "She knew exactly what it would take to get out and apparently that meant demolishing the living room with her wand."

"I can't image what spell she used," Gus muttered. "Even Mr. Potter couldn't get out before."

"Well, I know nothing about spells," sighed Celeste, kicking over a scrap of what used to be the coffee table, "but usually blowing a big hole through something is a sure-fire way to break out… I told Ferris letting her keep her wand was a mistake, but no one listens to the 'Muggle' –"

"And no one woke up?" Gus interrupted.

"No one. I'm not even sure if anyone was asleep at the time, because I can't tell when she did it."

Gus frowned at the reckage and the glint of broken glass caught his eye. The beers he and Jett shared the night before had shattered together in a corner, with over half their contents forming a puddle there.

It looked like she had left soon after he had, neither of them finishing their drinks. "It's as if she were just waiting for me to leave." Gus realized he didn't know Mihayla well enough to really feel betrayed by her escape, but he couldn't help it. He thought she was on their side after their conversation, but perhaps he was wrong. If she needed help, he wished she would have asked.

"Don't sound so disappointed, Gus," Celeste said, giving him an odd look. "She was just a Neo. Agreeing to but never actually getting around to passing us information doesn't exactly make her a good guy."

"She never got a chance," Gus pointed out. "We found Liberty the same night we let her out of Azkaban… You don't think the other Optimates took her do you?" he asked with concern.

Celeste gave him the odd look again. "Everything was blown outward from inside the living room, and according to you magical people, only Blood Traitors and those who know the safe word can get in. Besides, if they could get in, why would they need to blow a hole in the wall?"

"Y-yes, I suppose you're right."

3

It had been years since Logan had been allowed to see Liberty. He was bitten when she was only one year old, and Betrys quickly divorced him afterward. He'd missed Libby's first steps, her first day of preschool, and countless other days with her because his ex-wife thought he was dangerous and the Ministry agreed – though his daughter never seemed to mind. When Libby turned three, Betrys won full custody and he hadn't seen her since. They never even asked Liberty if she was afraid of her father or whether or not she felt safe with him. Over the past two years, her only connection with him had been a picture he'd given her of him holding her as a baby.

Understandably, Logan was rather reluctant to return her to the woman who had kept them apart for so long. He wondered if he could just spend one day with her before putting her back in Betrys's arms – but he knew he couldn't.

It was early morning when he and Remus asked Lenore where they could find Betrys. The Ministry put her in a safe location, as her house was obviously known by the Optimates and susceptible to at least one Vampire. Lenore told them the location and they reunited mother and daughter at last.

Several hours and a flood of tears later, Liberty was put back to bed to rest, still drowsy from the potion Dr. Thorpe had given her the night before. "I love you, my little baby," Betrys whispered, kissing her sleeping child's cheek before quietly leaving the room. She left the door open a crack as she stepped into the cramped living room of her hideout.

Remus and Lenore had long ago made themselves scarce somewhere outside the house. Betrys and Logan now had a moment to talk.

"Logan… Thank you. I don't know how else to say it," she said, her eyes still over bright from crying. "These past few days have been the worst kind of hell."

Logan nodded in grim agreement.

She paused, as if waiting for him to speak. When it became obvious he wasn't going to, she turned on her heal to the kitchen, calling through the doorway, "Can I get you anything to drink? Tea maybe?"

"No," he answered simply.

She reemerged from the kitchen, showing him a bottle in one hand and two stout glasses in the other. "Scotch then?"

He didn't answer, choosing to sit on her couch instead. She put the bottle and glasses away and sat down in a chair opposite him. "You really have changed," she marveled after a moment. "Before, we would have started yelling at each other by now, just to get it over with."

"I don't want to argue with you, Betrys," he said, looking at her at last. "I'm too tired to fight right now anyway."

"I bet you are," she said, "after what you must have been through last night." Her gaze flickered between the healing claw marks Quentin had left on his throat to his bandaged hand. "Now I understand why you broke out of the Ministry. I told Yates you're more reasonable than you appear."

Logan clenched and unclenched his jaw. "Especially these days," he agreed dryly. "If the Ministry thinks a werewolf is being 'unreasonable', it's apparently a good enough excuse to arrest them. Even Potter used that one against me once."

Betrys was markedly uncomfortable about the topic, but he didn't let it bother him too much. If he really wanted to agitate her he could show her his new fangs.

"Please, Logan," she said gently, "let's not talk about that. Liberty is back and that's over now."

"Yes. Over for you at any rate," Logan said, disillusioning her as politely as possible. "But you're right. Let's talk about something else."

His ex-wife stared hard at him, reading his mood like she used to when they were still together. Then she took a breath and said bluntly: "Do you want to step outside so you can get as loud and sarcastic as you like – you know, get it out of your system, so that you can relax with me?"

Closing his eyes, Logan let out a long sigh and leaned back on the couch. "No, I don't," he said finally, calmer now. "Betrys, what I want is to be allowed to see my daughter. I can't do this anymore –"

"Okay."

He paused with his mouth still half open. He thought once he said it, he would be in for another long battle – only instead of Neos there would be lawyers and the Ministry. Had she actually resolved everything with a single word?

"Really?" he asked, not quite able to believe she wasn't going to fight him. "You'll let me see her?"

Betrys nodded, tearing up suddenly. "Logan, you just carried the most important part of my life back to me today. I'll give you anything you want. Anything."

Without warning, she was on the couch crying into his shirt as she embraced him. Though stunned at first, Logan eventually put his arms around her – it felt natural to hold her, even after everything between them.

"Thank you," he softly muttered into her curled hair.

4

Exhausted and needing a drink, Roman came home to his apartment building late in the morning. He climbed the last few steps to his floor and started down the hall when a door near the landing opened, emitting his neighbor, a stooped old woman.

"Oh, Luciano! I haven't seen ye in a while," she said, her mock friendly tone full of suspicion. "Ye haven't been home since…well, the day 'fore yesterday. Am I right?"

"Tu sei una ficcanasa, vera?" Roman muttered under his breath in Italian.

"Pardon?" squawked the old woman.

"That's right, Miss Sheesley," he answered instead. "I've been away for the last few nights."

The woman's eyes narrowed at him. "With another one of those girls, I'm assuming."

Roman turned away from her, saying, "I wish," before shuffling to his door.

"Ye know, young men who stay out 'til all hours find trouble sooner or later," Miss Sheesley called at his back.

"I'm not that young anymore," Roman retorted. "Have a nice day."

He shut the door on her next sentence.

The tired man closed his eyes and leaned his back against his door for a second, simply relieved to be home. He opened his eyes again, about to move toward his kitchen when he stopped dead, suddenly feeling another presence in his apartment. Slowly, he turned toward the living area and found a beautiful woman with amber eyes and brunet hair sitting in his chair. A small smirk pulled at her shapely lips.

"Good morning, Roman," Jett said.

He paused for a moment, carefully regarding her. "This is the second time I've come home to find a woman here."

"Only the second time?"

"Okay, the second time I've found an uninvited woman here."

Her smile grew a little wider. "I came to thank you," she informed him, "for helping me escape. If it weren't for you, I'd still be in Azkaban."

"You're welcome."

"Why did you do it?"

"…Well, to be honest, I was going to ask you how to get to Logan's daughter – but he and Potter seemed to manage that on their own."

"I noticed," she commented wryly.

"And… I remembered you from before, so I thought I'd return the favor," he added.

She flashed a brief, white smile at him and Roman felt something stir in his stomach.

"When did you finally remember me?" she asked

"Well, there was only one way you could have known about the scars on my wrist," he admitted, breaking eye contact and walking into the kitchen. From there he continued while getting a bottle and some glasses out of a cupboard. "I figured not asking you too many questions from that point on would make Potter want to keep you out of jail for a while. He's too impatient to take someone useful back to Azkaban and have to wait for information."

As he poured some caramel colored alcohol into a glass, she moved closer. "Well, nice work," she said. "Now we've both broken each other out of Azkaban in one way or another –"

"And taken many others with us, in my case," he added before taking a long draught from the glass and emptying much of its contents.

Jett observed him with some amusement. "You do know it's only eleven fifteen, right?"

He put the glass down and gave her an annoyed look. "It's twelve fifteen in Rome."

"We're not in Italy," she pointed out.

"Does that mean you won't have any?"

"No."

He poured some of the caramel colored drink in the second glass and handed it to her. She took a small sip at first and grinned at him. "Brandy, huh?"

"'Claret is the liquor for boys; port for men; but he who aspires to be a hero must drink brandy'," he quoted blandly, staring into his half empty glass.

"Where's that from?" she inquired, her scared brow raised.

"Some Muggle my father held in high regard," he answered. "Dr. Johnson something-or-other."

"Right. Back to our situation; you've gotten yourself into a spot of trouble recently."

"I'd say so, yes."

"You're the git in charge of…" Jett hesitated. "Well, Odin's big plans."

Roman nodded before quickly taking another gulp of the strong brandy.

"And now we both have a choice to make – but making the wrong one could get us killed," Jett continued.

"In your case, yes," he conceded.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm dead either way," he admitted, his voice strained.

She looked confused. "If you betray Odin, the Neos will kill you, but what will happen to you if you do what he wants?"

Roman bit his lip and stared blankly at her for a beat. "I don't know if I can do what he wants," he said at last. "This is a thousand times worse than freeing murderers from Azkaban, Jett."

"I don't know. I put a lot of those people in Azkaban – it was pretty hard watching them go free."

He put his hand firmly over hers and shook his head. "No. This is far worse than that."

"I know. You're right. So what do we do?"

"You're obviously better at this than I am," he said straightforwardly. "You have to find a way to stop the plans."

"You mean stop you. How am I supposed to do that?"

One more gulp of alcohol later, he answered. "Like I said, I'm dead either way."

She didn't seem very happy with that particular option. "Roman," she said, her voice set and steady, "why did you become a Death Eater?"

He frowned at her. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just tell me."

"…Stupidity."

"I thought so." Jett tipped the remains of her brandy into his empty glass. "Most idiots like you have one particular trait in common: your superior survival instinct. Now those scars and the fact that you're a double agent are proof that you have quite a guilty conscience built up, but I can't help you clear it. And if you decide to go through with this, you and I will be enemies from now on."

Roman opened his mouth to interrupt, but she held up a silencing finger and continued:

"I'll help in whatever way I can so long as you're heading in the right direction, but you have to decide quickly. If you sabotage Odin's plans, you will be murdered. If you help him, you'll be handsomely rewarded but horribly guilt ridden. So you need to choose whether you want to be a dead hero, or a living but very culpable villain."

He did seem to be able to respond in any way other than to stare apprehensively at her.

"Take a drink," she told him.

5

Harry sat with Headmistress McGonagall in her office at Hogwarts. He'd spoken to Melencolia Snook (Trevor's legal guardian) about contacting Trevor and she'd grudgingly allowed it, as it might help save other children. However, she'd stipulated that McGonagall be there to oversee the interview. Alton hadn't been kidding when he said Melencolia was overprotective.

Currently they were sharing a pot of tea as they waited for the boy to arrive and Harry updated McGonagall on the case in the meantime.

"This disturbs me greatly, Harry," said the ancient Headmistress, frowning. "The possibility that the Neo Death Eaters are related to these kidnappings makes me nervous that the students will be going home soon. Now days more than ever, Hogwarts truly is one of the safest places in all Britain."

Harry's brow furrowed. "What day is it?" he asked.

"June twentieth."

"Wow, they really will be coming home soon – only three days," said the Auror. "I've completely lost track of time over the last few days."

"Yes, this Saturday they'll all be heading to Kings Cross," nodded the Headmistress.

At that moment they heard a knock on the door. McGonagall summoned Trevor into the room and the skinny boy entered, hesitating until he was directed further.

"Please, have a seat, Mr. Vaughn," said McGonagall. "You know Mr. Potter, don't you?"

The third year nodded. "You're Kyla's dad," he said quietly as he sat down next to Harry.

"I haven't seen you in a very long time, Trevor," Harry responded, leaning forward in his chair. "How've you been getting along at school?"

"Fine… enough," he said with a sheepish glance at his Headmistress.

"Good to hear. Listen, I'd like to talk to you about something that I know you're tired of talking about," he began, "but it's important."

He paused and Trevor didn't respond other than to wait for him to continue. So he did: "It's about your time with the Optimates. I'm searching for missing kids and I'm afraid the Neos are involved. Quite a few of the children are around your age or younger. Do you remember anyone else your age while you were underground?"

"No," Trevor answered simply.

"Did they ever mention why they chose to experiment on you?"

"Not really. The first thing I remember is waking up in someone's house and someone congratulating me on surviving."

"Surviving what? The experiment?"

"They never said it that way," Trevor said. "They called it 'the improvement.' Saying I would be stronger, like a soldier."

"And what exactly is your…improvement?" Harry inquired.

The rust haired boy hesitated and looked sideways at McGonagall, as if asking her permission. Apparently he had been warned against revealing his mutation inside Hogwarts. However, as soon as the Headmistress nodded her approval, Trevor held his hands forward with his palms out.

He stretched his fingers straight and flexed them slightly. Harry watched as this stimulation suddenly spurred the perfectly normal fingers to grow freakishly long – at least twice their normal length. What was worse, each finger tip tapered into a knife-like edge that ended in a needle sharp point.

Harry didn't quite know what to say at first. He mutely reached out with his index finger to touch one of the lethal looking points, but Trevor quickly pulled his hands back.

"They're really sharp," he explained. Instead of letting Harry get cut, he picked up a blank sheet of parchment from McGonagall's desk and dropped it over his outstretched fingers. The paper was effortlessly sliced into five pieces.

"…That's really scary, Trev," Harry said, his eyes wide behind his glasses.

"Imagine waking up with them and not knowing how they got there," the boy said. "When Dante taught me how to fight with them, he told me not to cut my legs off."

Harry was even more alarmed by this revelation. "Dante taught you to fight?"

Trevor looked a bit awkward again. "Well, he taught me how to control the claws. Mrs. Snook said they still thought I was a Muggle back then, so he didn't bother with magic."

"Oh, that's right," Harry recalled. "They assumed you were a Muggle because your parents were."

"The Hogwarts letter shook them up quite a bit," McGonagall commented soberly. "They knew they were in trouble when they found out they couldn't keep him underground without being investigated."

The Blood Traitors had told Harry this a few months ago, after he inquired of Trevor's wellbeing with their group. Jules had bluntly informed him that Trevor was better off with them than anywhere else. Putting him with a normal family would do him little good, because his mutation was most definitely not normal. Now Harry understood how right she was. In the wrong care, even a boy as mild mannered as Trevor could be dangerous.

"What else did Dante tell you?" Harry asked.

"He said that my hands would be much tougher than usual, even in normal form. I'm more flexible now too. He said I was perfect for close combat."

"Do you know how tough your hands are?"

"I was bitten by a Hippogriff during class once. I think it hurt its beak, but my skin didn't even break," Trevor replied. "I didn't tell Professor Hagrid."

"Did the Optimates ever mention anything in regards to your age" said Harry. "I know you were only eleven when they kidnapped you."

"I don't think so. I don't remember anything before they wiped my memory and changed my hands. They could have said lots of things and I wouldn't know it. I only remember they were very pleased I had lived."

Harry thought about this for a moment. Eventually he asked, "Why do you think you survived, Trevor?"

This question caught the boy by surprise. He had to think before answering. "Well," he began at last, "they obviously didn't care whether or not I died, they just wanted the experiment to succeed. So I'm guessing it wasn't thanks to any of them that I'm still alive. Maybe I was just lucky, like Alton."

Harry nodded pensively.

"Well, Trevor, thank you for talking to me," he said, bringing the interview to a close.

"Of course," said the boy, standing with Harry, "I hope I helped."

McGonagall dismissed Trevor and Harry thanked her for the tea and the use of her office.

As they descended the moving staircase, Harry turned to Trevor and said, "Would you mind doing me a favor?"

The boy shrugged. "Sure. What is it?"

"Tell Kyla I saw her in the Rat's Mouth pub, and she's grounded when she gets home."

(Cheer me on, folks! I'm trying to finish before the seventh book comes out!!! lol!)