Chapter Seven

The Contact War

Drew had a question about an essay Smith had set the students; he'd come across them writing something last night that he honestly thought had to be a deliberate joke on Smith's part. He didn't appreciate the man giving the kids extra, quite useless, homework when they could be spending the time learning something important.

"Or getting to be kids for ten minutes, Salazar forbid," he muttered to himself as he stepped through the half-open door to Smith's room. He stopped short when he found Smith on his knees with his head thrust into the fireplace. He almost backed out of the room, but he heard his name and was instantly on full alert, his nerves screaming.

"I don't like Stevens' story, I'm telling you. But don't worry, Harry, I've got a man checking on his school enrollment and medical records in the States right now. I'll get back to you if there's a real problem. I just wanted to update the Aurors on a potential situation." Smith paused for a few seconds, listening to whatever Harry was saying, wherever he was. "Your son's fine. No. Harry, do you really think I'd let him anywhere near your son if I thought he was an immediate threat? In fact, all the kids seem to like him. I think Stevens is rather fond of Matthias, honestly."

Fond of him? Drew reeled from the word "fond" in relation to any Potter as much as from the realization that Smith was having him checked out. Oh, damn. He had to contact Tuck now.

---Break---

Drew was not thrilled that he'd had to walk outside the wards and Apparate all the way into London to find a pay phone. He really should call Tillie, while he was using the phone, he thought. It wasn't exactly kind to have walked out of her flat without an explanation and no contact ever since. Still, getting in touch with Tuck was far more important at the moment. Luckily he still had some Muggle money riding in the pocket of a pair of trousers, so he stopped in at a tourist dive for an international calling card. He snorted at the stupid t-shirts and coffee mugs plastered with photos of Big Ben, maps of London, "Mind the Gap" slogans, and wondered how much money one could make printing t-shirts with silhouettes of Gringotts and "Expelliarmus" splashed garishly across everything from shot glasses to knickers.

He left that thought behind as he waited anxiously for the phone to stop ringing and be picked up. "Hello? Tuck?"

"Who's this?" the husky-voiced New Yorker asked suspiciously.

Drew almost smacked himself. Only a certain group of people called him Tuck, and he'd just started speaking with far too much of his old British accent.

"It's Drew, Tuck," he said, tempering his voice much more carefully.

"Drew, how da hell a' ya? Where da hell a' ya?"

"I'm still in London. Listen, I haven't got the time to explain, so just shut up for a minute. I'm in trouble. I gave a story to some people here, and they're not naive enough for it. They're double-checking the story."

"Shit, kid. You need me to create some kinda paper trail or what?"

"Sort of. Ah, we've talked about, you know, the world I come from?"

"Da one where you're a wizard?"

Drew sighed. Tuck still didn't really believe that wizards had their own society, and the man had known about magic for three years, ever since the nightclub bouncer had pulled a very startled Drew drunk out of a gutter and Drew had brandished a little stick that covered him in angry boils. Known as Tuck only to the people who knew about his less-than-legal dealings, the bouncer normally went by Henley. He refused to tell the story of where the nickname had come from, just demanded that his customers use it to cue him that they were looking for something a little more serious than a hookup at the club.

"Yeah, this is about that. Listen, I told them I went to a school for wizards, so I'm going to need you to go up to this school and break into their office. The place is called the Franklin Magical Institute. It'll be difficult, because it'll probably have anti-Muggle wards all over it, but your guy Pauley can get you past those."

"Pauley's one a' you wizards?" Tuck growled.

"Yeah, but he doesn't know I know. So your payback for all this can be scaring the shit out of him when you tell him you know what he is and tell him what you need him to do."

"So what am I doin', creating a false identity in their computer system?"

"No, unfortunately, they won't have computers. It's going to be like breaking into a dusty old library, Tuck. You're going have to go through some mouldy papers and find a nice identity of a student from a class ten years ago. Look for a student who got good grades, tell Pauley you're looking for a kid who was good with Dark stuff."

"Dark stuff?"

"Yes. He'll help you find a good file. You get me that name, and I will love you forever, Tuck. I swear I will. I'll even stay over here in London and leave you the hell alone, just for you."

"Well, shit, kid, dis should be easy. Where's da school?"

"Ah, that's the thing, Tuck. It's in New Hampshire."

Even Drew's profanity had its limits.

"Come on, Tuck, my virgin ears!"

Tuck chuckled. "Only fuh you, kid. Only fuh you would I do this."

"I know it. But you owe me."

"Kid, I owe you so many times I gotta become one of dese wizards and make copies of myself to start payin' you back."

Drew chuckled. "That's one of those things we can't do, Tuck. Just like conjuring up Pamela Anderson." He inhaled a deep breath. "Tuck, I need this done yesterday."

"Yeah, I figured. Consider it done."

"I really do love you, Tuck."

"Whatevah, Drew. How you want me to let you know?"

"I'll call you."

"All right. Take care a' yourself, kid, you hear me?"

"I hear you. Thanks."

"See ya."

He blew out that deep breath he'd taken with relief. Tuck was a good guy. The best. He'd have this done by the time Drew called or he'd kill himself trying. Drew tried not to reflect on how he'd gotten himself in with Tuck to begin with, and how many favours they'd done for each other now. It was just part of life in New York—a little dangerous, a lot lonely, but a hell of a lot of fun sometimes.

---Break---

Zacharias, feeling smugly superior and at the same time extremely nervous, read his correspondence from Framer to McGonagall. She sat in stony silence, her anger becoming more palpable with each sentence. He concluded the letter and looked up.

"I'm sorry, Headmistress, I really am, but I couldn't ignore it anymore. And Framer's proven me right. Drew Stevens didn't go to that school, Drew Stevens was never treated for leg and facial injuries in any hospitals in the two Canadian provinces with the worst problems or in New York, or in New Hampshire for that matter. His story is false. He's lying."

McGonagall was in a real rage now, Zacharias realized. He felt bad for having to break the news to her. She might have thought she was fooling him, pretending not to be frustrated by her failing eyesight, but to have it affect her judgement and put her students at risk moved frustration to another level entirely.

"How dare you?" she seethed, and Zacharias was so startled, all he could think of to say was,

"What?"

"You, Zacharias, how dare you question me and go behind my back this way? You are not the Headmaster just yet, and my decisions are still binding here. I told you to trust him, but you don't even trust me, do you Zacharias?"

"But Headmistress, aren't you listening, I was right! I think—"

"I'm sure I know what you think, Professor," she said, suddenly much cooler. "And here is what I think. I think that you will go and tell Professor Stevens what you have done, and you will ask him for his perfectly reasonable explanation."

"Do you know something I don't—"

"And then you will apologize to him for your mistrust and deceitful actions. Then you will return to my office and do the same with me. Understood?"

"Listen, Minerva, I won't pretend to understand why you're defending him, but I won't do this! I'm firecalling Harry and having him bring a couple of Aurors down here to question him formally—immediately."

"Fine!" McGonagall snapped, banging both hands on her desk as she fixed him with an icy glare that chilled him straight to the bone. "Do that! And when you're done, pack your things!"

"Are— are you serious? What aren't you telling me, Headmistress?"

"I've already told you that I trust the man, Zacharias. I don't have an explanation for it, and I don't need one. This is my school." She suddenly turned her head toward the portrait on the wall of a random past headmaster who had an identical portrait in Filch's office. "I'm so sorry to disturb you, but would you mind asking Argus to find Professor Stevens for me and send him along to my office? Thank you." She turned back to him. "And you, Zacharias, may step outside for a moment so that I may compose myself. You will not confront him until you are both seated here in front of my desk."

Zacharias got to his feet in a huffing rage and exited the office without another word.

Minerva inclined her head to the portrait directly over her, the portrait that had been pretending to sleep all through the altercation. "You're sure of this, Albus?"

"I'm sure, Minerva," Dumbledore's portrait said in a tired, unperturbed voice. "This Professor Stevens is to be trusted, I think. From what you've told me and what I've seen so far this year, he's doing an excellent job of keeping the children in order without causing them to resent him. That's a rare gift, as I'm sure you know."

"This information about his past is a bit worrying."

"That it is. I've no doubt it will sort itself out, though," he said calmly. "These things seem to."

"All right, then. As long as you're sure."

"You've always trusted me, Minerva. My death hasn't changed that, has it?"

"No, Albus," she said with a sad smile. "You're still quite the conniving old bastard, aren't you?"

He laughed with delight. "Thank you."

The door opened and he immediately feigned sleep again.

Drew was shepherded in by Zacharias, and Minerva could almost smell the wariness on him. "Is something wrong, Headmistress?" he asked warily.

She sighed, feeling much, much older than she had this morning. "I'm afraid so. Have a seat." When they were seated, she gestured. "Zacharias." She knew he was puffing his chest out in preparation, and shot him a glare to deflate it. "Quickly, please."

"You're a liar, Stevens," he said baldly. "If that's your name."

"Excuse me?" Minerva was impressed at how steady he sounded, like he was offended and angry instead of worried and frightened.

"I checked your backstory. There was no Drew Stevens, nor Andrew Stevens, nor Stevenson, at Franklin Magical Institute ten years ago. Nor was there a man with any of those names in a hospital being treated for a shattered leg and the loss of an eye five years ago. Who are you?"

Minerva felt an almost tangible wave of sudden relaxation from the young professor. "Oh. Well, I don't blame you for double-checking things. I do have a very unlikely history, don't I?"

"Stevens," Zacharias said warningly, and Minerva wondered with trepidation whether this would come to wands.

"I'm sorry, it's just that you got me so worked up, but it's a very simple explanation, Professor Smith," he laughed. "My real name isn't Drew Stevens."

Zacharias and Minerva both froze. "It isn't?" she ventured.

"No, it's the Muggle identity that was created for me. I'm so sorry, I didn't think, I've been acting as Drew Stevens for so long now, I just didn't think you'd be looking so far into my past. My real name is Peter Putnam. I'm sure if you want to double-check, you'll find my school records under that name. I'm so sorry, I'd put ambitious young Peter Putnam behind me, I didn't think . . ."

"Do not concern yourself about it, Professor," Minerva said as warmly as she could, relieved beyond words at this revelation. "As you can see, we were just overreacting. I'm so sorry to have disturbed you."

"Not at all, Headmistress. I wouldn't want you to simply take me at my word. Please, check again, by all means. I'm awfully sorry for the confusion. Would you prefer me to reschedule my lessons for a few days and leave the castle while you verify this?"

"No, that really won't be necessary, Professor. You're becoming quite invaluable, you see."

She sensed that he was both surprised and pleased by the compliment. "Thank you. In that case, would you please call me Drew? I've gotten used to the name, and it's just collecting dust while everyone stands on ceremony."

"Certainly, Drew," she said with a smile. She doubted Zacharias would ever achieve that level of informality, but the boy really was becoming quite as paranoid as Alastor Moody had been. "I'll let you get back to your evening, then."

"Thank you, Headmistress."

"You may call me Minerva, if you prefer."

There was a shocked pause. "I really couldn't do that," he answered carefully. "But thank you. Goodnight to both of you." He exited. With a hesitation, and a huff at the look on her face, Zacharias left with a muttered goodnight before she could say anything.

"Right as always, Albus," she said with a smile.

"Oh, we both know I'm not always right, Minerva. Only a good deal of the time," he chuckled.

The portrait of Phineas Nigellus came to attention stiffly. "Potter would like to know if Professor Stevens is cleared and if his son is safe."

"Everything is fine, Phineas," Albus' portrait assured him. "Tell Harry his son will always be safe with me."

Phineas exited, presumably to relay the words, then reappeared, looking even more stiff. "He says he knows. Forgive him for worrying."

"Thank you, Phineas."

Minerva yawned. "I'm going off to bed now. Thank you for your help tonight, everyone."

There was a chorus of murmurs as she exited.

---Break---

"Just wanted to let you know that it worked. I expect they're checking out the Putnam alias right now. Thanks for getting the information for me."

"Did ya one better, kid. Don and me hacked inta da computer system at a hospital here in da city, and found a Peter Putnam, got treated for pneumonia. I changed da records, with Don feedin' me the right language, to say treated for gouged eye and blown knee. You're covered from dat angle."

"I'd get down on one knee if I could, Tuck. Marry me."

"Love you, too, sweetheart. I just don't think I'm ready for da commitment."

"Hey, you owe me a lifetime, remember? Let's set a date for the ceremony."

"What, and have you blame da ring when ya lose your groove at da club?"

Drew stopped laughing. "Tuck," he said seriously. "I'm not worried about my groove at the club anymore."

"You giving up da party life, kid?"

"I'm not coming back, Tuck."

That brought Tuck up short. "Why not?"

"I like it here, Tuck. All I've got in New York is you."

"And all you've got in London is fish and chips and a date wid Mary Poppins."

"I've got a home here. A place, you know? This is where I belong."

"You've been lookin' for dat for a long time, kid. How do ya know ya found it?"

"Tuck, I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone in my entire life, you know that?"

"I do."

Drew dropped his voice and allowed his natural patterns of speech to take over. "England is my home, Tuck. This is where I was raised. I need to be where I grew up and somehow find a way to face my old mistakes, the ones I was hiding from in New York."

"God, kid, you're one a' dem tea-drinkers?"

"Afraid so, mate."

Tuck's voice dropped. "You got family dere?"

Drew opened his mouth to answer, but hesitated. "Not anymore. They died doing the same thing that almost got me killed." And that was very nearly true, he reflected. Not anymore . . .

"And what's that?"

"Fighting on the losing side of the war."

Tuck started swearing so much it was nearly incoherent. Drew pieced together that he was basically asking, "were you one of those Death Eaters I read about working for that Dark Lord?"

"You've seen that huge burn on my arm, Tuck. It used to be his Mark on me. Listen, Tuck, I was sixteen years old and all I ever wanted to be was my father. Well, now my father's dead and everything he owned is gone, and I'm having to stare at the results of my actions every day. It hurts like hell to realize how much I wish I wasn't who I am."

"What did you do, kid? What are you starin' at?"

"A kid, Tuck. A little boy whose parents I killed. A little boy whom I really like and who has told me that I'm his favorite teacher. Everything's so different now. I don't hate any of the people I used to hate, and I feel so much regret for what I did here."

"You're a teacher? Are you at dat Hogwarts place?"

"Yes. It's the closest thing to home I've got now. The funny thing is, I like being a teacher. I'm responsible for making sure these children are nothing like me. It's like my penance, only it can't be, because I enjoy it."

"All dis time, I was thinkin' you were just depressed or somethin' kid. So I went and did all this for you just so you don't have to come back and keep coverin' my ass with your magic tricks? So you can be a damn nose-wiper for a bunch of kids who'd turn you in if dey knew who you was?"

"Yes, Tuck. That's why."

Tuck was silent so long Drew thought the call had dropped.

"Tuck?"

"I don't know what ta say, kid. I knew you didn't have a problem with crime or you wouldn't be workin' wid me, but this . . . I mean, you murdered people for a crazy guy who wanted to take over da world."

"I know I did. Actually, I spent most of my time in his service recovering from various punishments for my failures. I killed people to try and draw out my enemies to avenge the deaths of my parents. I was crazy, Tuck. I was actually mad for a little while. I don't think I pulled out of it until you found me. We always joke about what you owe me for all the situations I've gotten you out of the last few years. But honestly Tuck, I wouldn't even be here if it weren't for you. I'm the one who owes you."

"You don't sound like a guy who'd kill people, Drew."

"Well, my name wasn't Drew, then."

"Gotcha. Well, the guy I know, his name is Drew, and he's a good guy. I trust Drew. And I wish Drew the best of luck, I really do. He deserves it."

Drew forced his American voice back into being. "Tuck, that's who I am now. Drew is who I am, I promise."

There was a long pause, and Drew knew Tuck was thinking hard. He was struggling to understand who his partner in crime really was, and accept it. "Then I hope things work out for ya, kid. God knows you're tryin' hard enough."

"Thanks, Tuck," he sighed in relief.

"See you, kid."

"You treat Lisa right and give Bonnie a kiss for me."

"Will do."

The line went dead. Drew tried to stop crying before he went back to Hogwarts.