April 11, 1998

The Undercroft was as dark and foreboding as I remembered it being over a year ago. It felt damper, wetter and more depressing for the ongoing cool, spring weather of London outside. I shook out my cloak before descending the steps, allowing the quiet dread and jittery anticipation to fall over me.

I could not imagine what I would find down here – how much had it changed in the year since my last visit?

Well, it still smelled of musk and damp. That was comforting.

The rules Thalia had put in place over my last visit came back to mind. Do not talk, be on my guard and be inconspicuous. I took a deep breath and double checked the charms on my cloak that made me look like my cousin Audrina with her dark mahogany hair and a longer face. I wondered if I would ever have to apologize to Audrina for the offense of borrowing her face for a cloaking charm? If she ever came out of the wizarding barrows she was studying, I may have to consider it. I was not sure she would care, but it was the courtesy of telling her that she would appreciate.

After all, in a world where you can borrow another person's appearance, there are unspoken rules of permission and trust.

I listened for the whistling sound of approaching danger from my wand as I moved forward, a raucous chorus of shouts filled my ears. I stepped out of the tunnel to find the duelling arena, just as I remembered it. Roughly fifty people watching and cheering the duel as one of the wizards tried to set his opponent on fire with a confringo spell.

I moved into the crowd to watch for a moment.

"BETS! PLACE YER BETS!" The bookie pushed through the crowd, collecting some last-minute galleons and writing them down in his book. "THREE GALLEONS FOR FITZHENRY! TEN FOR THORNTON!"

The younger man in the arena hit the older man with a barrel with enough force to knock him out of the ring and the cheers form the crowd seemed to shake the room, almost threatening to bring down the room around us from the noise and energy of it as a clear call for Thornton's victory echoed through the chamber. The bookie was swallowed by the winners of the bets and distributing the payout with congratulations and compliments on everyone's ability to spot talent in a longshot upstart.

I slipped through the crowd as I finally got a glimpse of the nook in the wall that I remember as being Shaw's shop. I wondered if he had ever found the runespoor I freed during my last visit? I hoped he had gotten away to live a happy life.

The noise of the crowd was behind me and I opened the door to the shop. It was still full of plants that seemed to thrive best in the dark, damp world of the Undercroft. There was no sign of any other snakes or animals on display, perhaps Shaw had gotten out of that part of the business. I did note the shrunken head that had begun to chatter its teeth on the counter.

A noise from the back storage room caught my attention.

I gripped my wand tightly as voices rose from the back.

"Speak Shaw, it dun gotta hurt."

The voice who I recognized as Shaw from my previous visit with Thalia cursed loudly. A loud bang from the room and Shaw came tumbling out of the room onto the shop floor, a mess of blood from what appeared to be a cut lip and torn robes. I stepped away from Shaw and pulled my wand as the other figure stepped out of the room.

This figure was clad in shabby robes and had a scruffy, hard look to him with his almost skeletal facial structure. Scraggly hair and a tough look to him that made me think of an old style New York Gangster from fifty years ago.

What I remembered of Shaw were things I did not like or respect in another human being, but for the moment, I needed him in one piece and in my debt.

'Petrificus Totalus!'

The scruffy man moved quickly, avoiding the blow and firing a silver curse in my direction.

The shield charm I cast rebounded the curse into the stone wall of the shop with a loud noise that shook the room, sending pieces of rock and stone to the ground below in a clattering storm.

The man rushed for the door, escaping from the shop as I began to give chase into the street. I saw the hem of his coat turn a nearby corner and I followed behind, almost slipping on the stone below as I turned.

'Accio!'

A loose cobblestone yanked itself upwards and flew into the man's chest, knocking him to the ground and knocking the air from his lungs with the duel impact. I slowed and stood next to the incapacitated man, looking down at his face, his eyes wide and shocked as he tried to piece together what happened.

I stunned him, leaving him on the cold stone of the alley. Shaw was alive. Mostly unharmed and really the one I had to speak with. I had no care for any of Shaw's dealings beyond my own with him.

The man would be up again in a few hours and hopefully reconsidering most of his decisions moving forward.

I stepped back into the shop to be greeted by the sight of Shaw leaning against his counter to keep himself upright, his posture slightly hunched as he muttered to himself.

"That you Rannulf? Ya bring chaos wherever you go."

Shaw's expression as he turned to look at me was curious and stern, fading to confusion as he realized I was not Thalia. He looked as he had the last time I had seen him, older, greyed hair and slightly sunken cheeks that emphasized his pallor from working in the Undercroft for decades.

"The bookie is outside."

"I came here to speak with you."

Shaw stepped back slightly, his hand moving slowly to his hip.

I was faster. 'Expelliarmus!'

Shaw's wand flew into my hands in a rush of silence and the old man put his hands up in surrender.

"Was that really necessary?"

Debatable, but I'm not taking chances.

"I need some information."

Shaw sighed and leaned more heavily against the counter. "I hear nothin', I say nothin', I see nothin'."

Cute.

"Can't trust just anyone these days.

"I'm looking for someone. The message told me to ask you."

Shaw was regaining his composure, now looking at me as a nosy interloper in his life. "If I answer, will I get my wand back? 'Cause I got a lot of people trying to crawl up my arse lately."

I nodded.

"What's the name?"

I paused for a moment, wondering which of the aliases my brother had used with this man, if any at all. Alex could be many things, many people, and for that he became an enigma of a person.

"Alex Graves."

Shaw's jaw tightened. I was unsure if it was disgust or a previous memory of dealing with Alex. His brow furrowed and something fell over the room, a silence that overcame the rising cheers of the world outside this nook and cranny shop. The thrilled screams of spectators were for the world beyond this space alone.

"He's not a man you need to be chasing."

"I have no choice." I stayed composed, hoping my nerves were not obvious. "He's reached out to me and I need to find him as soon as I can."

Shaw raised an eyebrow.

"His life is in danger! I must get to him!"

There was nothing sympathetic in Shaw, I got the impression he had seen too much in his life to have real sympathy on such matters. There would have been something sad in that for me to contemplate if I had not had a terrible need to rush to Alex – wherever he was.

"Thank you for today, but you're better off going home and forgetting about him."

I steadied myself, biting back the screaming, cutting response that danced on the tip of my tongue, settling for a civil response and a sense of control that I was holding onto by mere inches.

"I need to do this. I have to try and I will not be turned away." I tightened my grip on my wand, raising it so it was level with Shaw, "You can tell me everything you know, or I can force it out of your head." I ignored the emerging fear in Shaw's widening eyes.

Shaw scoffed, finding control and burying his fear. "I don't think that's in ya. You're soft and spoiled, it's all over your face." He looked me up and down filing me away. "You had an easy life and had to fight for nothing in it. That soft life left you with no sense of violence."

"If you think violence is the only form of communication-"

Shaw laughed, it was tinged with mockery and derision. "Oh, you're gonna be eaten alive! You're out of the ivory tower now girl! If you want to survive, you need to –"

The spell flew from my wand and missed Shaw's ear by an inch.

He was finally quiet.

"I won't miss next time." My words were slow and measured, hiding my rage at his assumptions. I had left the ivory tower a long time ago. I had been tortured by the government, I rescued a man from the Department of Mysteries, I worked as a spy to try and create a better world at the end of this disaster and my father was readying the Americans to go to war with Britain. I was not a little girl anymore.

Shaw scoffed, "You're not the kind of monster Graves is – he wouldn't have given a warning."

"Yeah, I'm a little different from Alex." I ignored the slur against Alex, I was sure Shaw would say worse about me if he knew my secrets.

The room was quiet as Shaw looked at me again, seeming to reassess and was now looking at me with a more nervous kind of respect.

"You'll want to speak with Theomund at the Dead Wind Close up to the right away from this madness outside. The name of the close is on the building closest to the main walkway. You're looking for a big, fancy stag head door knocker. That's the Gentlemen's club he runs. The password is Eudaimonia. He changes the password every week so don't expect to get in again."

"Thank you, Mr. Shaw." I threw the old man his wand, which he caught cleanly and returned to his pocket without taking his eyes off of me as I pulled the hood of my cloak back over my head. "You've been very helpful."

"Rather deal with you than some of the others who come nosing around. Be careful out there."

I left the shop and released the breath I had been unconsciously holding.

Okay. One step closer. I can do this.

It was an easy thing, a certain lightness in having a sure destination could offer a body. This would take me to my brother. I would see Alex again, I could send him back to Thalia to enforce that he was her problem now in the fact that they had both signed (nonmagical) papers to make it so. Even if they were still common law in the eyes of Wizarding Society. Really, it meant something to them and that would be enough to get Thalia to guilt Alex into separating himself from the mess he was in.

Wait… if Percy and I were living together in a very married sort of manner, where was the line to where we would be considered a common law? Formal wizard marriage was only seen as legitimate in the eyes of… well the enchantments involved in honoring the bond.

Huh? That sounds like a thought for another day- I just knew it would make leaving the United Kingdom easier if Percy and I were married. Less paperwork. A thought that would surely sadden Percy.

No.

Focus.

You will accomplish all of this and go home.

This part of the street was so quiet. A comforting veil of darkness engulfed me for a moment before the witchlights on the streets lit themselves as I passed by. I jumped as the light activated over someone sitting on the ground a few yards away.

The figure was clad in dark robes and holding a wooden staff as he stared blankly ahead. There was something in his face that made him look older than his already long trail of years behind him. He seemed to tilt his head in an unusual manner as I collected my courage and moved closer to pass him.

Was that...? It was Bran! The man Tavish said was a rumored seer. Strange for him to be down here…

He's blind, he probably just hears me going by.

There was some expression written upon his face as he looked through me. I turned to look where he was and saw nothing. Why was there such fear in his sightless eyes? I glanced back at the old man and saw his continuous, haunting stare follow me as I walked past him wearily. He seemed to press himself further back against the wall. His lips moved to form words I was not sure I could understand. His hands folded, fingers entwined together around his staff as his lips moved in a silent sort of prayer, I was not sure I could understand the reason for it.

Bran began to rock back and forth, his prayers growing more intense as he turned his head to follow me as I passed.

"Protect us... Guide these weary souls... shield us from dark intent..."

Bran's voice faded as I turned another corner beyond him and I double checked the numbered door at the start of the close that bore the name of the correct close. Dead Wind. Alright. I was in the right place. It was about seven houses down... Big door knocker. Perfect!

I moved up the two steps to stand in front of the door, feeling the rush of elation at taking another step forward in finding Alex. I clutched my wand tightly. How far was I willing to go for this? This could be a wild goose chase and I could be none the wiser until I encountered real failure. I was in the hands of strangers and needed to be my own guardian.

The door knocker at the supposed gentleman's club looked like the head of a stag, the knocker rested beneath its neck like a collar. How silly to imitate a collar on a wild beast. I reached up to rap the knocker and the stag gave a shake of its head and a bell sounded on the other side of the door. I stepped back to wait.

The door opened to reveal an elderly House Elf, he had very large ears and the clothes he wore were tattered, but well finished and repaired to a formal, well-presented state appropriate for an indentured butler.

"Can I help you?" The House Elf rasped, his diction perfectly practiced to sound the part of a pretentious butler and door guard.

"Eudaimonia."

The House Elf raised a thin eyebrow and stepped back, gesturing for me to enter.

The hall smelled of cigar smoke, it was not heavy or suffocating, but it was quiet and almost pleasant. Something familiar, not quite the Sparkers that Alex was so fond of, but slightly more exotic in the fashion of the Cuban cigars I had seen old men smoking in New Orleans. The walls were wood with red and gold wallpaper, this was a rich building owned by someone of wealth and status, perhaps this was an informant for Alex? Or maybe just someone who could get him his Sparkers?

I followed the House Elf, who introduced himself as Mort, down the long hallway and up a staircase. Mort was a quiet fellow, except when he told me about some of the rich paintings on the wall that featured beautiful landscapes and a decerped castle with a beautiful woman peering out of the rubble in her silvery robes. He told me that the woman was the Lady of Lake, who was prone to leaving her watery haven in another room to look at the guests.

"Can you tell me who I am seeing?"

"My master."

I had gathered that much. The stairs creaked under me and the smell of smoke grew stronger.

"So, what does he do exactly?"

Mort looked back at me as he stepped onto the landing. "He is a broker of information."

That sounded dangerous for Alex, a man who worked in shadows and silence, though I could see the benefit it could offer my brother in pursuit of leads.

"And he lives here?"

"Most of the time."

We stopped in front of a grand oak door, lined in intricate carvings of wolves and runes I could not place.

Mort knocked three times. "A visitor for you, Master Theomund."

The door swung open and I followed Mort over the threshold to a parlor room with elegant dark couches and a small fireplace. There were more stag heads on the wall, carefully crafted in iron and a painting over the fireplace depicting the Horned God, an ancient deity of the old world with his stag antlers emerging from his head and barely covered by artfully placed leaves as he rested back languorously against a tree. I averted my eyes to avoid potentially getting an eyeful and blushed profusely.

"Ah, thank you Mort." The voice came from a corner of the room I had been too distracted to examine. I turned quickly to see my host.

He was an older man, maybe in his forties and wearing a bathrobe over his pajamas. He was sitting at a desk in the corner of the room wielding a quill and a wry expression. There was an easel behind him with a half-done sketch of a beautiful, naked woman. "Whom do I owe the pleasure of hosting tonight?"

I took a deep breath and pulled back my hood, the telltale tingle of magic erasing the image I wore of my cousin Audrina to show my true face. "My name is Audrey; I'm looking for Alex Graves and his contacts have sent me to you."

The lord of the house chuckled, "You Americans are so direct. No sense of drama!"

I stayed quiet, unwilling to make the wry comment about the stereotype of the humorless British. Instead, I let my eyes wander past Theomund to the shelf above his desk that held a goblet with a figure that looked like a snake with ruby eyes carved into the metal and coiled artfully around the goblet.

It was looking at me...

"Was it Old Shaw that sent you? Decent bloke, mostly bluster and half-drunk ramblings." Theomund took a drag from a cigarette that had been sitting in a nearby tray on his desk. "Only one who can get international smokes these days."

Theomund was not smoking Sparkers, I could smell the difference.

Mort bowed politely and left the room without a sound.

Theomund stood from his chair and I averted my eyes from the easel canvas he has clearly been working on in some capacity judging by the shine of the ink.

"If you had come last night, you could have joined our little party." He motioned to the canvas. With Theomund out of the way, I could see the sketch he was fixing in detail. "I needed a new model and she really wanted safe passage out of Britain."

The woman, girl really, she had a very soft sort of face with full lips slightly parted and a mane of long hair that hovered over her shoulders and trailed down her back, her cheeks clearly flushed even in ink and charcoal. Her hands covered her breasts to try and preserve some semblance of her modesty and her knees were pressed tightly together.

"So you're taking advantage of desperate people." It was not a question; it was a statement of fact.

"I wouldn't go that far; I call it an equal exchange. She had no wand. No connections and I have both of those things. I need insurance that she would not turn me over and my last model skipped town with some Quidditch player. Savage sport really."

I did not like Theomund. I could see how Alex would tolerate him, he was clearly well connected and that would be more useful than his clear lack of human sympathy for others. The way he operated in his offers to vulnerable people left me grinding my teeth.

Alex sinking into a criminal underworld and making sketchy allies met all of my expectations.

Theomund chuckled, "Graves gets that same look. All that self-righteous disapproval. If you were not clearly related, I'd ask to do your portrait in exchange." He paused, "Though if you have nothing of interest to offer me in trade, that is an option for you."

I was not going to take the bait.

"What do you have to offer in exchange for what I know of Graves?"

I looked around the room. Trying to collect my thoughts. Theomund traded in secrets, he dabbled with power through those connections as I did. I had no secrets I was willing to give in exchange for his help, none that did not have the potential to either not impress him, or come back to harm me later. People who trade in secrets know how they can hurt others in turn.

In that framing, I had nothing to offer. I had connections, but I was unsure I could leverage those safely, I did not know how much Theomund knew about Alex and I.

The goblet caught my attention once more, my attention drawn to the little snake carving around it. There was something about those ruby eyes that drew my attention like a moth to flame. I moved forward to pick the goblet up from its resting place. The carving turned towards me slightly and a rush of understanding filled my mind.

'Drink of me and be replenished...'

I reached for the goblet as Theomund watched me quietly from his chair with a curious expression. It was cold in my hands. I traced the snake carving and admired the details of it, the ruby eyes and the care paid to each scale. It was a beautiful art piece, but something about it simmered with a quiet kind of power.

There was a spell being whispered in my ear, or into my mind with low tones and speech that was only audible to my ears.

I understood immediately.

"This goblet can heal when you drink from it."

Theomund leaned forward with interest. "Really?"

I nodded, confidently and placed it in Theomund's outstretched hands. "It's enchanted to make your replenishment potions stronger." I allowed myself a smile. "You're free to try it. If I am correct, is that enough of a secret for you?"

Theomund smiled, perhaps intrigued at the idea of my being correct or of catching me out in a lie and pulled a small potion vial out of his desk drawer. I passed him the goblet with steady hands, telling him the spell as I did so and watched Theomund pour the vial into the goblet.

"I take this more for my allergies."

Understandable, pollen season was a mess for people without allergies.

Theomund threw his head back to drink and the sniffles that ailed him disappeared immediately. He blinked in surprise.

"That usually takes about twenty minutes." He stood and moved the goblet to a place of honor on his fireplace mantle. "Excellent. I bought this from a man who swore it was just a decorative piece at a cheap price. It's worth far more than the twenty galleons I spent." Theomund turned to look at me appraisingly.

"Yes, I know where your brother is hiding out." He reached out his hand to me and I took it, the light emerging between our hands in an unspoken spell.

"Open your mind. I cannot speak to his location, but that does not mean I cannot share it."

Images and words flooded my mind before opening to a scene in this room. I could see a fully dressed Theomund and... Alex! I was being shown a memory.

Alex spoke. "I'm based near Richmond Park…"

The image of a little house with the grey door and a door knocker that looked like some sort of bird. Flew into my mind and I grabbed hold of the image like a lifeline in a stormy sea as Alex gave the name of the street.

Theomund nodded and smiled before the flash of memory ended and threw me back into the present day. My heart pounded with the sight of Alex and knowing where he was. It was a feeling of relief that reignited my sense of purpose.

This had not been for nothing. If Alex was at his safe house, then I would find him there and find out what had happened and drag him out of his wandering ways because, despite all Alex had done, as complicated as he was, he was still my brother and I would bring him home for Thalia, if not for myself.

"Give Mr. Graves my regards."

Oo0Oo0

Author's Note: Alright. Folks. I love theories, if you have any, I'm down to read them. The next chapter goes up on Sunday next week. It needs edits.