Well the Hiatus is over I'm back. Sorry for the long absence I will do better this year I swear. Well Catherine and the gang are enjoying their summer holidays at the moment but that will change surprisingly quickly. As per usual I do not own anything even the shoes on my feet. All of this belongs to Rowling and her affiliates I'm just borrowing her stuff I promise to put it back in the same state I found it...ish. On with the show. Please review they are so inspiring to writing.
Chapter 15
England produces a surplus of poor weather by itself and as such Brits abroad tend to feel slightly disgruntled at the very least if they encounter rain on their travels. It was hard to tell if her travelling companion was dispirited by the howling gale and torrential downpour outside the carriage, but then he was somewhat grumpy at the best of times. Nymphadora Tonks however felt a personal sense of having been deceived and were it not for a warming charm would probably have frozen to death in the cold uncomfortable carriage she shared with the grizzled old auror. She remembered his laughter at the sight of her in a short summer dress and flip-flops when she portkeyed into his hotel last night before commending her on dressing like the locals but that was before the carriage ride up into the mountains and the storm and rain. Jinxes and curses had always been their speciality and it was unfortunately beyond her to transfigure herself something a little more waterproof or warm than the floral blue dress which continued to draw amused glances from her former master. Madame Bones had insisted that Moody take an auror liaison with him on this mission so he had insisted thinking wrongly he'd be denied his former apprentice and now he was faced with the nostalgic if somewhat irritating prospect of hunting down a former death eater turned slaver in glamorous Romania, with none other than Tonks, just Tonks, the same slip of a girl who would always do exactly as he told her not to and would insist on a disguise which had more people gawking at her than if Moody had walked down the street stark naked.
Their journey had not got off to a good start as the very lead which had brought Moody from France to Romania had been found dead by Austro-Hungarian magic authorities. The Wachoffizier had initially attempted to arrest Moody and Tonks when they apparated into the dingy apartment to be met with the sight of a disposal squad and some very antsy looking hitwizards. (or whatever the Austrians called hitwizards.) Three days later after hours spent in dingy bars disguised as a hag and a dark wizard they'd finally picked up a scent of their quarry. Some holiday this was turning out to be, Tonks thought to herself. Romania, not Italy or… Spain or… Hawaii even! Uncomfortable coaches, tripe soup instead of pizza and wine. And up here in the mountains it was cold and grey reminding her poignantly of her years in Scotland. All though when the cloud cleared a little you had to admit that the mountains were a tad more impressive than any in Scotland. Or at least they would have been had they been able to see out of the carriage. Tonks huddled down in the corner, her glare peeping out from beneath long brown bangs as her hair tripled in length, perhaps attempting to help keep her warm. The subject of her glare had both eyes closed and was snoring rhythmically through what remained of his nose. Alastor Moody was as comfortable as man could be with the cold and wet irritating his stump. His thick coat kept him perfectly warm and compared to some places he'd slept over the years this hard wooden bench was a feather mattress. Despite his pretence however, Moody was far from asleep. His magical eye whizzed inside his head taking in the surroundings and every twist and turn the carriage took up the winding mountainside. Tonks clearly hated the drumming rain and howling gale on the side of the carriage, but at least they weren't out in the storm like the coach driver. Although Moody suspected it was very unlikely their guide would've noticed a hurricane. The glowing embers where his eyes ought to have been and the handshake so bony it seemed to lack flesh made Moody decidedly uneasy about the meeting he'd agreed to. They had been ushered into the darkness of the carriage that evening and now nearly four hours later he was thoroughly sick of the journey. The coach driver was deliberately taking a long roundabout route intended no doubt to lose followers and stop the inhabitants of the carriage from having any idea where they were. The windows and doors of the carriage were sealed shut and blacked out and Moody had no doubt that, were it not for his magical eye, he'd be completely in the dark as it were. As the hours had ticked by his respect for the man, er denizen, who they were to meet only grew. The carriage had a very sophisticated ward system upon the inside; a quick look at the magical signatures and Moody stopped Tonks from drilling peep holes with her wand. But was all this secrecy really necessary. If half the rumours were true stopping the aurors from knowing where he lived was no bad thing but, wouldn't a portkey have been more sensible? Not to mention much less dramatic.
The coach suddenly came to a shuddering stop and the horses shrieked as they were pulled to heel. The abruptness of the ending took Moody a little by surprise as he had not noticed the wrought iron gates in front of them in his musings on the character of his contact. The coach driver hopped down and crunched over the loose stones of the road to the gates before opening them.
"Why've we stopped?" whispered Tonks, clearly not buying Moody's sleeping act.
"Hush, girl." Moody flapped his hand at her his magical eye watching as the driver retook his seat and led the horses and carriage through the gates. Moody watched the gates close by themselves with a high pitched whine behind them. A few moments later and the door at last opened and Tonks and Moody stumbled and limped out into the moonlight on a gravel drive. Before them silhouetted against the night sky a small castle nestled into the mountain side. Four tall towers, topped with crenelations and conical roofs reached up to the moon around the central building bedecked with all manner of sinister gargoyles and devils. It was a bone chilling sight, taken straight out of a horror story, the black castle in which the monster lived. When the huge black door opened Tonks was very surprised at bright electric light spilling out to them instead of a pool of red luminescence. The surprises kept coming as they were guided into the castle and were confronted by an enormous open space with modern sofas and stylish glass tables. A piano on a raised platform was off to the right of the sofas and gentle mood music floated across to the two aurors. Their host had his back to them further down the room by the staircase. As they approached Tonks realised he was lifting dumbbells before a large mirror, serving the double purpose of exercise with observing their approach.
"Welcome Alastor Moody and Tonks".
"J…"
"The pleasure's mine domnule Stacojiu." Moody spoke interrupting Tonks' habitual response of 'just Tonks'. It didn't surprise him at all that Stacojiu knew her preferred handle. "Tonks this is Stacojiu the bloodboiler, or at least that's how I knew him back in the good old days. I love what you've done with the place…"
"Hrmm?" Stacojiu looked around at his home. "Well you know how it is you live somewhere for three hundred years you have to redecorate occasionally to stave off the boredom right Alastor. I can call you Alastor I trust?"
"Sure thing boiler. Right well enough chit-chat. As I've no doubt your er associate informed you we need your help." Tonks at this stepped forward remembering her job. She had struggled to approach at first doing her best to stay away from their host and behind moody. Something about him raised the hair on the back of her neck and set her teeth on edge. He was neither tall nor short, neither fat, thin nor well muscled. His hair was a shade between grey and black and for the life of her she knew she'd never be able to tell you what he looked like. Sort of ordinary if pushed. But what she did know was that this was one of the most dangerous men she'd ever met. Something about his bearing betrayed the thousands of lives he'd snuffed out for the sake of his own and being in his presence caused her to break out in a cold sweat and had her hand itching to the wand holster at her hip.
"How can I help you?" he smiled lazily showing off inch long canines sharp as needles.
"I'm looking for Chrysus and I know that if he is still within a thousand miles you'll know where he is." Moody replied gruffly. He limped to one of the nearby sofas and fished in a pocket of his coat. "Ah here we are." He muttered, producing a scrap of parchment which he proceeded to unfold. The blurry edges and strangely three-dimensional quality of the image on it was strange to Tonks as it looked more like a muggle hologram than a moving wizard picture.
Stacojiu raised a thin black eyebrow at the image. "A fairth Alastor? That is difficult magic. Your master must really want to find this man." He stroked the image and Tonks was surprised as his finger appeared to sink beneath the image slightly producing ripples.
"What's a fairth?" She asked. Stacojiu turned to look at her with a slight hint of surprise.
"Oh she speaks!" He chuckled flashing his teeth again. "Well my dear a fairth is a magical artefact created by embedding a memory into an object. The most common use of such an object you see before you, it is one of only a few ways you can view a memory outside of someone's head obviously. Is this one of yours Alastor?" Moody nodded his assent and Stacojiu turned to study the image of the mustachioed man. "Chrysus you called him. I do not know of any Chrysus but this face is familiar. I knew him as Alain Belmort. He started out as a foot soldier for Gellert in the last war. Since then he's established himself as a business man on the continent."
"That much we know. He worked with Voldemort as well. What we need to know is what he does now and where to find him." Moody leaned forward both his eyes fixed on Stacojiu.
"I cannot be very specific." Stacojiu waved a finger smirking at the eager aurors. "Normally I would demand a price for such information but well I do owe Albus a favour don't I?"
"More than one I'd have thought…" Moody leaned back and steepled his fingers fixing the creature with a stony but expectant gaze.
"He's in the business of logistics. He moves items and people from areas of supply to areas of demand. Dark items and valuable commodities from the west namely France to the east. Slaves and creatures from the east. Last week he sold a Hungarian Horntail chick to a Flemish wizard if that's why you're looking for him I'm afraid I did not hear where in Flanders he was from."
"No we're after Chrysus because of what he failed to sell."
"Oh and what was that? Did he steal something from dear Albus?"
"Let's just say he was happy to bring slaves and creatures from the west as well as the east. Do you know where he is Stacojiu?"
"Alas Alastor you are asking me to tell you the location of one of the hardest men in Europe to pin down." Moody sighed in disappointment and stood stiffly. He saw Tonks scowl as their time was wasted. "I can however narrow it down for you" he continued causing them to stop. "he was staying in the land the muggles know as Albania. You may wish to make enquiries there." Tonks turned to stare wide-eyed at Moody who wore a satisfied smile. Many a time Moody had spoken of Albania and his desire to lead a team of aurors to scour that country. Perhaps he'd finally get his chance. Who knows what they might find.
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"Watch out Cat!... Cat slow down! Cat. CAT!"
"Whoooheeeheehee! Yeah" the ground came rushing down towards her as she fell, spinning around as she spiralled, the wind roaring in her ears and buffeting her like she was trying to press through a cushion. She was going so fast there was no time for thought or fear. When she could see the blades of grass above her head she rolled upright and continued to spiral but this time skyward away from the hard ground and the exasperated shout of Carlton. Eventually she slowed the broom and began moving in lazy circles again. This was the life soaring through the sky at hundreds of miles per hour with the sun on her skin and the wind whipping through her hair. She let out a sigh while admiring the view of the welsh mountains and the silver line of the sea at the edge of the horizon. It was amazing how far she could see today from this height.
"You quite done Edwards?" She turned to look at the young man in azure robes hovering ten feet to her left. He had long blonde hair with a platted beard and a horribly broken nose. He was known in the league as the Viking and held the record for most bludgers to the face in a single game without being unseated.
Carlton Cole former captain of the Tutshill Tornados and coach of the Bosherston junior Quidditch camp. Oh how the mighty had fallen, here he was barely a year after winning the BAIQ league (for the third time), babysitting a bunch of spoilt brats who's parents were hoping to buy their way onto a team. All right he was being unfair. The Johnson girl and her two friends probably had a shot at, at least, making a developmental squad. He had noticed Gwenog taking an interest at the exhibition game yesterday. Oh and then there was Cat. It seemed no exaggeration in his mind that he was probably looking at the next hall of famer. She was only twelve but already could fly better than he could and would no doubt have the looks to grace many a bedroom wall one day. She was also downright crazy. Seriously that move she just pulled she must have invented it. Even Aidan Lynch wouldn't be insane enough to try a corkscrewing dive which used a lateral spin to climb out of it. Not at flat out speeds at any rate. Her parents were muggles which would have made it so much harder to tell them that she'd been killed. Muggles tended to get upset about that kind of thing.
"Boots on the ground in 3…2…" Cat was in the locker room before he finished counting. She had no desire to run another ten laps of the Quidditch pitch before dinner. The rest of the camp was almost finished changing. She saw Angelina and Katie flirting with the tall Welsh beater, Jones or Davies she couldn't quite remember. Alicia was reading Quidditch monthly on a bean bag and the rest of them (guys) were off wrestling or something in the other half of the changing room. It was strange that she'd never even considered the other magic schools but it seemed obvious now that there must have at least been some. She read the daily prophet, well Hermione's, every day and she knew there was a wide world of wizards in Britain. Far more than Hogwarts could play host to all their children. Her year was a record for its size, being the smallest in centuries but even still it couldn't be possible to have only forty eleven year old wizards and witches in the entire country. Now here she was surrounded by kids from other schools, joking and laughing. When she'd first found out she had been initially shocked and a little suspicious as McGonagall had made it seem like Hogwarts was her only option in Britain. But she'd worked out from the talk in the camp that there were at least two more in England and Wales. She felt less bad when comparing to discover that they all thought Hogwarts was the best. The others were in general much younger institutions and didn't have the same reputation, or a nice big castle. Katie Bell had told her that her half-brother had gone to Bryn Draig in Wales and that he'd been very jealous when her parents sent her to Hogwarts. Bryn Draig, which apparently meant Dragonhill, was apparently built in the Victorian era and was a large grey block disguised as a factory with its Quidditch pitch hidden in the hollow of an old coal mine. She conjured images of bleak grey skies above grey cobblestones, outside grey walls and carpets with grey cloaked students slowly wafting from one class to the next. Katie had explained it wasn't really like that but her brother had really wanted to go to Hogwarts but they couldn't afford it and he could speak Welsh.
"Knut for your thoughts Kitten?" A big hand slapped her on the back shocking her from her reverie as one of the beaters in her camp plumped himself down on the bench next to her. Rory Davies was only thirteen but he was already one of the largest boys at the camp and dwarfed the small girl next to him. That said the scowl on her face, no doubt the result of the nickname she had acquired, was enough to make him slightly nervous recalling some of the jinxes she'd shown already in the last couple of days.
"I asked you to stop calling me that… do not make me ask again!" She spoke very quietly and evenly and the seriousness of the accompanying stare would have been enough to scare most people off but Rory caught the hint of a laugh in her expression and relaxed. Joining in when her giggle finally escaped. She had decided early on she like Rory. He reminded her of the Weasley twins. Big, funny and fearless. She had found him surprisingly easy to talk to in the last few days and being two of the youngest in the camp they were treated as the babies of the group by the older players. She had discovered that he and his three elder brothers all went to Bryn Draig, that they were fiercely competitive and were incorrigible flirts. Earlier in the week their team the Tutshill Tornadoes summer camp had played the Caerphilly Catapults camp which had featured all three of his brothers. Before the game he'd given Cat loads of tips on how to avoid the attentions of his brothers who were beating and which side to shoot against his eldest brother the keeper. After the match he'd dragged Cat along to meet his family and much to her embarrassment had confirmed his brothers question as to whether she was his girlfriend. When she'd tried to deny it he simply qualified that she'd come around. Cat couldn't fault his confidence but mainly found the whole idea of a boyfriend ridiculous. Sure Rory was not horrible to look at and she'd had a really nice time with him that week but they were both under fourteen and it just seemed silly. Naturally she had been ribbed mercilessly by the three Gryffindor chasers in the camp about the whole thing.
"Hello earth to Kitten, come in Kitten are you receiving me? Over." Rory knocked on her head gently pretending she was a door. "Whoa you were miles away; I guess they must be worth closer to a galleon…"
Before Cat could have a go at him though Coach Cole's loud hollering to gather by the chalk board in the changing room interrupted their conversation.
"All right ladies here is the game plan for the cannons." He rapped the board with his wand causing lines of chalk to begin snaking across the board as he talked. "First things first the line-up. You've all worked really hard this week and you were really unlucky not to win the match against the Catapults on Wednesday. This time the task will be less physical and will require different challenges from all of you. The Cannons youth team as usual could fly rings around their senior team and should make for an interesting match up. Their seeker is a hell of a lot better than the Catapults one so that I want the beaters to make sure to keep him occupied as well as supporting the chasers. I'm going to split up the Gryffindor three, because for one they wont be expecting that and two you girls wont be playing together forever so you need to learn how to play with other people at some point. We'll be running plays one through seven tomorrow so with that in mind the line up is as follows: Keeper Grant Page, here's the folder on their plays go do some reading up before tomorrow. Dismissed! Beaters, Jonathan Williams and Alun Jones, dismissed. Chasers; Angelina Johnson, you're captaining tomorrow. Flanking will be… Malcom Preece and Cat Edwards, I suggest you three go run through your plays one more time before bed. Dismissed!
Cat and the other two chasers grabbed their stuff and headed out of the locker room and towards their cabins. Angelina and Malcom were chatting about a play they wanted to try where he would dive bomb the opposition chasers and she would fly in his slipstream. It sounded dangerous and Cat hoped they didn't need to use such dangerous measures to break the opposition defence tomorrow. She said goodnight to the other two before turning in as she knew from Wednesday that if she didn't try to get to sleep she'd be up all night with nerves about the following day. As her head hit the pillow she started reciting the plays for tomorrow by starting positions of all six chasers. She couldn't for the life of her remember where chaser two was supposed to be if Johnson called for play seven. "Oh well, I guess I'll just wing it as usual." She chuckled to herself as sleep overtook her.