Chapter Seven: Confrontation at The Crossed Fangs
The goblin knocker had been particularly feisty Saturday evening, its tiny razor-like teeth very nearly taking part of Charlie's ear as he opened the hidden door. He could hear it cursing itself with a slur in its speech given the metal ring that hung from its mouth, but there was little time to linger on the rude piece of decor. It would take at least an hour to drive to the Transylvanian Alps and the time to leave was drawing close according to the ticking watch upon his wrist.
A woman was already seated at the well-lit vanity, her wand hand running over her voluminous platinum blonde locks and styling it into fashionable waves as it went. As Charlie walked behind her, he saw a familiar face staring intensely back that he didn't associate with the hair.
"I'll try to be quick," she promised, double checking the look of her hair as she turned her neck to observe the sides, "but Svetlana does take a bit of time to get right."
"No worries," he smiled, leaning in and kissing the cheek he knew before it was to be transfigured. "I'll get dressed first. Andreas doesn't take quite as long."
Abby smiled at him through the mirror as she began work on her eyes, the colour evaporating from her irises until only a clear grey remained that was accented by longer curly lashes and thinner light brows.
The closet marked for Andreas Kaminski, the unknown wizard novelist, was at the farthest end of the room and only housed a few carefully constructed outfits along with his staple pieces: thick glasses, a threadbare coat, and tattered brown shoes. Charlie rifled through the few choices he had for the Saturday night out, deciding upon a plain dark T-shirt, a worn plaid, and brown slacks that would complement the only pair of shoes the artist owned. For a moment he considered a tie to make the whole thing look a bit more formal, but a solo dinner was by no means enough of an event. With the few items in hand, he disappeared behind the folding screen and made quick work of stripping down to his boxers to begin changing into character.
It wasn't always visible in his clothes, but as details were key Charlie insisted on putting on Andreas' tattoos whether or not he expected anyone to see them. Holding out his left arm, his wand hand got to work and inked a stylised black cross surrounded by thorns into his upper arm. Below the cross words began to appear in a language he couldn't read, but was supposedly insightful according to Simeon who had translated it. The maple wand then switched hands and got to work on two braided arm bands around his right bicep, the black strands of ink swirling around each other to create the temporary tattoo. His chosen outfit easily covered these two pieces of art as he dressed, but the fact that they were there made him feel more like the person he pretended to be.
"How do I look?" Abby asked just as Charlie stepped out from behind the dividing screen.
His brown eyes looked up to the woman who had turned towards him from her seat. Her nose was smaller and pointed, giving the impression that she'd had work on a so-called deviated septum. Full lips had been glossed to a bright red and her entire face had become more oval rather than the familiar heart-shape. In the time it had taken Charlie to turn his body into Andreas, Abby had made her face into one that most women would have envied.
"You're a little off on the..." he started, noticing a slight difference since he'd last seen Svetlana Olsson as he got closer to her. "Let me help you."
"Just tell me where." She turned back to the mirror, examining her face closely for the flaw that he was seeing in her. "I can..."
"No, no." He spun her chair around so that her new wide grey eyes faced him as well as his wand. Bending down to her level, his freckle-laden nose nearly touched her perfectly tiny one. "Transfiguration was always one of your weak spots back at school."
"I got through the N.E.W.T.," she contested, the tone in her voice reminding him that she'd done well in jinxes and hexes and was not above using them.
"With my help," he continued his chide with a smile. "It's just a little fix to make your cheekbones higher, I promise to be really quick."
The lack of words from her mouth appeared to give him consent as he backed up and allow his arm some movement. Placing the tip of his wand against her right cheek a small green spark lifted her features slightly and thinned her face shape even more, but it nonetheless completed the look of Svetlana.
"You remember who helped you pass your Potions O.W.L.," she smirked as he shifted himself over to her left side.
"Naturally," he whispered as his wand touched her cheek. "And if we were impersonating real people you'd be brewing the Polyjuice Potion, but as it turns out we're using Transfiguration."
He took a step back, admiring his work as an artist would over the beauty they had fashioned. Looking between the model picture to the side of the vanity and the breathing model sitting before him, there was not a hair out of place as he declared her perfection.
"Thank you," she nodded after a final glance into the vanity mirror as she rose from the seat and started for her own wardrobe change. "Luka will be at the tavern tonight as well. Mikhail has said he'll be inviting his co-workers at the Apothecary out for a drink and even if they decline he'll be around. He's fairly inconspicuous as a worker needing a drink after a long Saturday shift."
"Sounds logical," he called after her as he seated himself at the mirror and prepared to grow out his short ginger hair. Looking into the reflective glass he saw someone who he needed to forget for several hours, so with a silent salute he bid a temporary goodbye to Charlie Weasley.
Andreas Kaminski wandered into The Crossed Fangs at a late hour, when most respectable witches and wizards had retired for the night and those who remained were only partway through their drinking regime. The tavern tables were busy, many patrons laughing loudly over spilled ales as Livvia darted along collecting empty glasses before they wound up as broken glass on the floor. A wave to the waitress earned him a quick smile and a hand gesture towards a small empty table close to a window.
"A pint of mead as usual, I presume," she blushed as he went by towards the table she had indicated. "I'll bring it by soon."
"I'll be waiting," he smiled back as he removed his jacket and continued on to his window-side seat.
From the corner of his beetle-black eye he could see Luka deep in conversation with a witch and wizard, all of them dressed in neatly pressed navy robes emblazoned with an emblem of a cauldron. A large party of red-faced warlocks were huddled near the dartboard, cheering on two of their battling companions by taking a drink from their goblets for every turn. With a glance to the bar Svetlana was in the midst of caressing the bicep of the flexing bartender whilst his friend behind the bar filled the orders for a waitress' tray. In the shadows of the farthest corner he was certain there was a vampire seated in the booth sipping a drink, scanning the crowd just as he was doing himself. For a moment they met eyes, but both were clever enough to keep going.
"Here you are," Livvia announced as the mug of mead was placed before him freshly frothing and dripping foam onto the table, "The Crossed Fangs finest."
"Thank you," he nodded as he reached for the handle of the mug, raising his glass to the smiling barmaid before taking a small swig and letting the flavour of dance down to his stomach. "How have things been tonight?"
"Oh, the usual Saturday night crowd..." Livvia held her tray to her chest tightly as she blushed a rosy pink in her cheeks.
"Anything that would interest someone who is inspired by stories of intrigue?" he plied as he wiped away the foamy moustache from his real one.
"Well, we can't all have interesting lives like the people in your stories," she answered, bowing her head down. "Will you be eating tonight or are you just drinking with us?"
With a promise to answer that question after the first pint of mead, the barmaid went back to making her rounds as Andreas indulged in his habit of people-watching while nursing his smooth drink. Through his thick lens he watched as a few parties, including Luka and his co-workers, called the night and left the tavern to those who were dedicated to seeing closing. Two bottles of elf-made wine was ordered at the next table over where a group of middle-aged witches indulged in a night off from their husbands much to the delight of the warlocks, who had abandoned watching darts in favour of glancing at the women. The vampire from the opposing corner of the tavern had not budged at all, simply scanning around the space with an ambivalent stare.
It took an hour for him to finish sipping at his first drink and it was not long before a second was brought to him courtesy of the attentive barmaid, who thought it was finally time for her to have a break and seated herself across from her favourite customer.
"How is the writing going?" she asked, her eyes growing to the size of saucers as she awaited his answer. "It's been so long since you've been around; I thought your block must certainly be over."
"I've picked up the pen again, so to speak," Andreas replied, flashing a mischievous smirk to her. "All of these political things happening overseas, what with a former Auror being elected to Minister for Magic, has fed the imagination for my work."
The door of conversation was open and politics was the table on. He just needed Livvia to bite in.
"How marvellous," she sighed, leaning onto the table as she drank in his words. "I knew you would find your muse again. It was only a matter of time and the right inspiration."
The chime hanging over the front entrance jingled as the wooden door opened to admit another client, Andreas lifting an eye over Livvia's shoulder to see who had come in for the nightcap. A drooping plain blue wizard hat partially obscured his view of the new customer, who glanced towards the stairs leading to the rooms of the inn. Immediately the figure approached, crossing to the farther side of the bar and ascending the wooden steps silently.
A single glance over the tavern from the mystery figure lasted all of second, but caught Andreas' attention. His dark eyes darted towards the bar, noting that Svetlana had her focus elsewhere and did not see the face of the Romanian Minister for Magic.
"Is that Emilian Zolnerowich?" he interrupted Livvia, pointing towards the stairs, trying his best to appear nonchalant on seeing the man that none of Tomov's Ministry friends could get to come and play cards.
Livvia looked over to the stairs just as the Minister vanished down a corridor of rooms, the disappearing hem of his billowing cloak being all that her hazel eyes saw. "I didn't see, but he does come in every now and again."
"Really?" Andreas gasped. Catching himself slipping from casual surprise, he sat himself straighter and took hold the mug of mead before finishing his thought. "How interesting. What does he come for?"
"I don't know," Livvia shrugged. "Barmaids don't really have anything to do with the business of the upstairs. And if anyone up there does order anything it's always Nessa's job to bring it up."
A bob of her head pointed out the other working waitress, a short dark-haired woman with sharp narrow eyes who was walking with purpose towards their table. Hurrying across the floor, placing a few ordered drinks down as she went, she made her way to Livvia's side in an instant. She briefly glanced down at Andreas, but was quick to turn her hawk-like eyes onto her co-worker.
"Hate to interrupt your lovely little conversation, but I've got business to address upstairs and then my shift is done for tonight," Nessa curtly piped, handing Livvia her serving tray. "Break is over."
Livvia was quick to rise from her seat and follow Nessa towards the bar, mouthing an apology to Andreas when she stopped to pick up a few empty glasses and bottles from a nearby table. He could only smile and wave in response as his mind churned with possibilities.
Emilian Zolnerowich was at the very least an elusive man. Unlike Cornelius Fudge who appeared in The Daily Prophet weekly until his forced resignation, Zolnerowich said very little on the public stage and it seemed to ensure his long tenure in the position. Since the news of You-Know-Who's return, he had been particularly silent and referred everything relating the escalating war in Britain to his Minister of International Magical Cooperation. Other than at work he was rarely seen until this sighting at the notorious tavern that was a common meeting place for his predecessor: Nicolae Ceausescu, the Muggle and Wizard dictator. What business he was conducting at The Crossed Fangs was worth discovering.
He had a quick scan of his surroundings. The group of warlocks that had been playing darts and watching the wine-drinking witches had retired from their fun and in its place started singing a slow slurred song that Andreas thought may have been "Odo the Hero," though it was difficult to be sure exactly. Livvia was busy at work counting change for a customer whilst the bartender was still rapt in conversation with the Scandinavian model. An elderly gentleman had taken residence near the fire to enjoy a fine brandy while the vampire in the corner had not moved from his spot. None of them seemed aware of the politician above their heads, which worked in Andreas' favour.
Downing a last gulp of mead, he ruffled through the coins in his pocket and counted out the cost of the two drinks. Blindly his hand searched the back of his chair and he started for the bar with his jacket in hand. He carefully paced his step, not trying to appear too eager as he approached and dropped the coins onto the bar without a word. The available bartender gave him a quick nod to acknowledge the payment as he continued to pour drinks and Andreas casually turned his body to the stairs.
He had not even laid a foot down on the first wooden step when he heard it. "Hey! That's the inn up there; paying guests only."
Turning quickly on his heel, he saw the two bartenders, Livvia, and Svetlana looking in his direction. A confused look crossed the two women's faces, and for a split second the blonde model's steely grey eyes appeared in green to him.
"Then, where might I find the lavatory?" he asked with a smile.
The two bartenders simultaneously pointed towards the back of the tavern to a door painted with a little man in plain sight before they both went about their jobs of pouring drinks and flirting, respectively. Livvia smiled back at him as she went by with another round of drinks for the thirsty warlocks and Svetlana had vanished from his view as her friendly companion blocked the sight of her.
Putting his coat back on, Andreas waved his farewell to Livvia and dashed out the door with a jingle of the silvery chime lingering above it. The night air bit at his fair skin, the distinctive chill on the wind informing those out late that autumn was indeed on the horizon. With his hand holding his jacket closed, he scanned the street only to find it was void of any noticeable inhabitant. The wizarding village had gone to sleep and he intended not to awaken it.
He intentionally walked past the bar windows, noticing from the corner of his eye that Livvia had cast her vision towards the clear glass so as to catch a last glimpse of the bohemian. She had seen him walking away for the night and would not expect him to return, which was exactly as he wanted. With his wand in his sleeve and a Disillusionment Charm in mind, he turned the corner of the pub and entered the alleyway.
As soon as he'd set foot into the shadow of the tavern's stony structure, he felt himself lift off the ground and his body slammed into the wall with force enough to knock the glasses from his eyes blurring his vision. Rough pieces of rock poked into his spine, but he couldn't move with a large forearm pinning his shoulders and a hand holding down his wand arm. He could only see the outline of the bulky figure dressed in black and the misty fog of its breath in the cool air around them.
"I know what you're up to," a gruff voice emitted from the vapours as the pressure against Andreas' chest tightened, nearly cutting off his ability to breathe properly.
"What do you mean?" he gasped to the hazy shadow.
The answer was a swift blow to his nose, which gave a deafening crack beneath the strength of the mysterious figure. Andreas' head bent back and impacted with the stone wall behind him, the pain resonating out and into every inch of his ears and eyes. He didn't know his vision could be worse, but the figure glossed over as though he were hidden behind several layers of frosted glass.
The pressure on his chest alleviated and he could feel ground beneath his feet, but his legs could not sustain his weight and he fell instantly onto the cobblestone alleyway. He gulped at the cold air letting it fill his lungs again, only to have a hard boot kick it out and left him breathless again. His body instinctively curled inward, wanting to protect his vital organs as blood from his nose began seeping onto the pavement.
"I'd better not see you around here again," the voice commanded.
There was no sound other than Andreas' own laboured breathing mixed with the occasional groan of pain as he tried to uncurl his body. The lack of footsteps on the stone told him the shadowy giant had Disapparated without a trace and he was alone in the now bloody alley. With great effort he pulled his wand from the sleeve of his coat and summoned the fallen glasses to his face. Part of the haze lifted as the glasses corrected his visual impairment, but they could not fix the dizzying swirls of his surroundings. Lying still for several minutes, he waited for some of the pain to subside and forced his eyes to stay open despite the shakiness in case he had a concussion.
Very slowly he tried to rise, rolling onto his sore stomach and getting on all-fours before pawing his hand at the stonewall for leverage. His fingers managed to find a hold to grasp, which gave his other hand the freedom to search for another. With very deep breaths he pulled himself to a standing position, but could not let go of the wall for fear of falling back to the ground and having to go through the painful process all over again.
Without warning something had taken hold of one of his arms. Whipping around expecting to see his attacker again, his dark eyes were met instead by a moonlit face bordered with waves of blonde hair. Svetlana quickly threw his arm over shoulder and used her other hand to hold his waist so he no longer needed the support of the wall.
"I've got you," she whispered into his ear just as the sensation of a raw egg began to dribble down his face.
With the Disillusionment Charm cast over the two of them, she freely walked him out of the alley and started down the cobblestone road to their familiar meeting place. In the waiting car she had a stock of potions that would take away the pain and prevent a concussion. She would heal him, so it was all right to sleep now.
And Andreas' world went black.
"Thank you for your help, Mikhail," said Abby, as she shut the door to the car, careful to not get the draping of her red dress caught. "I'll get him upstairs and into bed."
"Do you vant me to alert anyone?" the man in the navy cauldron-emblazed robe asked. "Herb? Simeon?"
"It can wait until morning," the Healer replied, brushing the ginger bangs away from her patient's natural freckly face. "He's all fixed up and he had his concussion draught, so he'll be perfectly fine after a good sleep. No use in worrying everyone until he tells us exactly what happened to him...or rather Andreas."
With Charlie levitating at her waist she led the way into the whitewashed building, only the light of her oak wand feeding her sense of sight. Gently she led the hovering body up a flight of stairs, careful to hold doors open long enough to allow him through without further injury. Once in the infirmary she led him to his usual bed, the one nearest to the window, laid him softly onto the cushiony mattress and covered him with a blanket so the chilly night would not have an effect on him.
Sitting upon the bed next to his she kicked off her red heels, keeping her green stare upon his slowly rising and falling chest. The slight movements of Charlie's body had an almost hypnotic effect, relaxing her tired body as she put the light of her wand out in hopes that sleep would soon find her. As her wand dimmed its illumination, a second source of light met the corner of her eye and caused her head to turn.
In the aisle between the beds and the windows, a small table with a white cloth had been set up with two chairs. Upon the covered table were several long white candles glowing with light as they surrounded a large present topped with a white satin bow. Compelled by the light of the candles, she rose from her seat and walked over to the table, noticing the small card that had been tucked carefully into the bow. Using a single finger, she slid the card out from beneath the soft ties and flipped it open to read the five lines that had been penned inside in a beautiful cursive script.
Wishing the happiest of birthdays to you:
My best friend,
My true love,
And my everything.
- Charlie
"You're safe," Abby said quietly as she tucked the loving card back into place and made her way back to her beloved's side, leaning down to lay her lips against his cheek. "That in itself makes this a very happy birthday."
A/N: Still going at this, but moving a little bit faster right now and thus it was time to release something, even if no one is reading this anymore I still feel the need to write it.
I'll leave little to say here and just leave open to speculation about who beat Charlie/Andreas and why.
Abby's birthday is September 8th. In Dragon Tears, I wrote Charlie and Simeon's birthday. It was time to show someone else's, though far from an ideal celebration.