40CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It took Draco a day or so of talking to his own reflection in order to garner enough courage to have the audacity to request a moment of Lord Slytherin's time. It was almost as though the Fates were telling him to get a move on with what he had promised to Harry, because Lord Slytherin made quite a few more frequent visits to Malfoy Manor in order to meet with Lucius to discuss important, confidential matters. Each time, though, Draco was ashamed to admit that he chickened out completely, either hiding in his chambers or the library, kicking himself as he did so.
One of those times had been witnessed by Marcus Flint, who was none too pleased by what he had seen. "You just missed your opportunity to talk to him! Now he will be in that meeting with your father for the coming few hours, and will likely go back home. You promised Harry you would talk to him – keep your damn promise! You're his best bud, so act like one!"
Flint's usual no-nonsense attitude had the desired effect, though it did worsen the sense of guilt that was already brewing in Draco's stomach. And it seemed that the Fates too had decided to give the Malfoy heir one last shot because the following day, Lord Slytherin was back again – once again for reasons that were not divulged to Draco by either his mother or his father. The intimidating man had apparently come a little earlier than planned and Draco had accidentally stumbled upon him quietly reading in their family library, waiting for Lucius.
Draco had initially frozen in fear when he saw the man and had turned bright red. He had wanted to get one of the books on Alchemy to study but suddenly that didn't seem as important anymore. Lord Slytherin had looked up almost immediately with a raised eyebrow.
"Good day, young Draco," he greeted civilly enough.
"Hello, sir," Draco gulped. "I … I wanted to get a book but I didn't know you were in here. No one announced you to me. I apologise for disturbing you."
Draco had turned on his heels to try and escape, but it seemed that Lord Slytherin was having none of it because the library door suddenly shut in front of his face and locked itself. The Malfoy heir gulped.
"Have I done something to upset you, young Heir Malfoy?" the Heir of Slytherin asked silkily. "Have I said something that you took offence to?"
Draco forced himself to turn around, hoping that his cheeks were not as red as he wagered they were, and make eye contact with one of the few Nobles who scared the absolute daylights out of him. "No, sir," he answered quickly.
"I see. Then I really must inquire the reason why you bolt from the room as soon as I am near," Lord Slytherin stated, looking at him expectantly. "Because you have not done so before, so what has changed?"
Why have the gods forsaken me? Draco lamented internally. He coughed a few times to clear his throat. "Well … because it …" he sighed to himself, "because it concerns Harry."
At the mention of young Lord Potter, Lord Slytherin's brow furrowed immediately and a look of concern entered his eyes. "What? Has something happened to him in Wales? Has the Lady Regent been informed?" he inquired hastily, jumping to his feet.
"No! No. Nothing has happened to him," Draco reassured quickly, slightly taken aback at how unabashedly worried the Dark Lord had sounded. It wasn't often that the man openly showed concern – for anyone. It settled Lord Gaunt enough to continue to listen to Draco. "I … I promised to talk to you about something."
"Oh," Lord Slytherin sunk back into his chair with a sigh of relief, and then scowled a little. "Open with that the next time, Heir Malfoy."
"Yes, sir," Draco gulped. "Anyway, Harry's dragons had another attack, despite upgrades to the wards and defences. Both Metis and Inyala's eggs have hatched, as you know, and it seems someone has caught wind of it."
"Opaleye and Pendragon babies do fetch quite a price on the black market," Lord Slytherin stated darkly.
"Indeed," Draco agreed readily. "As it turns out, Macnair may have accidentally eavesdropped on the people who were behind it during one of his recent tavern trips."
Lord Slytherin was as alert as a cobra at hearing this. "Did he now? And why did he not bring this information to me?"
"Because you were away on business, sir," Draco answered candidly. He really did not like the idea of lying to the man, despite being very tempted to. Draco had once witnessed how angry Lord Slytherin could get at being lied to, and it wasn't the kind of wrath Draco wanted to bring upon himself.
The Dark Lord scowled and sighed in irritation. "Who did Macnair tell?"
"Yaxley, I believe, sir, who told my father, who informed me so I could inform Harry," Draco relayed.
"Well I suppose we have to thank the gods that Macnair was not so blind drunk that he missed that important bit of information," Lord Slytherin mused. He frowned. "Did Macnair name any names?"
"Only, one sir," Draco internally braced himself. "Dung."
The Dark wizard blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Dung," Draco repeated with a sigh. "That was one of the only names Macnair said that he remembered."
"It is once again shown to me why we need to teach Macnair to drink in moderation," Lord Slytherin stated with a vexed sigh. "That is almost nothing to go on, but I thank you for telling me, Draco. Despite the fact that it has taken you this long to do so."
Draco flushed with embarrassment but did not dare to say anything else. The details on the Malfoy library carpets were suddenly incredibly intriguing, though he had traced them so many times over the years that they were now seared into Draco's mind.
"The next time, you will tell me immediately. Is that clear?" Lord Slytherin stated in a tone full of authority.
"Yes, sir," Draco was not going to risk life and limb arguing with this man.
"Good. Now then, while we wait for your father to conclude his business, will you join me for a game of chess?"
Has one of the gods bribed Loki to bully me? Draco thought to himself as he forced himself to walk over and join the Dark Lord, who was already setting up the chess board, whistling to himself.
If there was anything that Amelia Bones despised, it was when someone tried to play a dirty game. True, she was a member of the Wizengamot and thus more than used and well-versed in playing the game of politics that was required in the chamber, but that didn't mean that she enjoyed any of it. She didn't; Amelia was far too fair-minded and steadfast in her ways, which she knew had garnered her many enemies on all sides of the chamber. She was under no illusion that there were many who would not mourn her loss like they had done James Potter.
The former Lord Potter had known how to work the system and put some morals in a box for a while, something Amelia simply could not do.
Currently, Amelia had the old reports and interview transcripts from interviews held at the time of the inquiry into James' death, and the more she read, re-read and thought about what was actually said and written, the more Amelia had a sinking feeling that Lily Potter was onto something. Most of the answers given were either non-answers, answers from someone who was too utterly bewildered to think, or the answers were missing because a lawyer had intervened. Even the reports did not make any sense at all – it was written as though it were an open and shut case, which it most certainly wasn't! Amelia did not take to conspiracy theories, but even she could see that there had been more than one cut corner.
As was quite recurrent with Amelia, she lost track of time. A sharp knock on her door was what knocked her back to Earth and made her look up quite sharply. "Come in!" she stated sharply. She had left clear instructions that she was not to be disturbed until noon!
The door opened and in stepped Frank Longbottom, looking a little sheepish, carrying two cups of coffee and a brown bag. "Forgive the intrusion, Amelia, but I come bearing food and coffee," he answered with a small grin. "Chai tea latte, right?"
Amelia blanched and cast a Tempus. 12.30.
Once again, she had forgotten to eat. Amelia closed her files with a sigh. "Come in, Frank. I really should start paying you for your trouble," she scoffed with a small chuckle.
"Not at all! You have given me a good excuse to leave some of my own paperwork for a bit before I get a pulsing migraine," Frank admitted with a smile, handing Amelia her coffee and lunch, then taking the chair on the other side of her desk. "Who would have thought that one black market dealer could cause such a palaver?"
"Oh?" Amelia raised an eyebrow curiously as she began sipping her coffee.
"A Dark wizard has been distributing Dark artefacts through the underground markets," Frank explained. "No one knows who they are – we are not even certain if we are dealing with a man or a woman. The only thing we can link back to them is a creepy voodoo doll. Anyway, some of these Dark artefacts had gotten into the hands of adults and children alike."
"Yes, I believe I heard something like that from Alastor. I am glad that you were given the case, Frank. I doubt anyone other than you or Alice would be able to keep the vultures at the Daily Prophet away from this," Amelia commented, unwrapping her chicken sandwich.
"Well, it is not without its difficulties," Frank admitted, sipping his own coffee. "What helps is that most people are still outraged about the TriWizard Tournament coming back so that is keeping the sharks busy for a while."
Frank then frowned at the folders and papers in front of her. "What are you working on?" he asked curiously.
"Personal project. A favour to a friend," Amelia answered vaguely with a shrug. "Thinks there is something untoward about one of our previous cases, and frankly – I am inclined to agree."
Frank frowned for a moment. Amelia could see the cogs in his head spinning. The Auror pursed his lips. "This friend of yours – she doesn't happen to have red hair, bright green eyes and is currently Lady Regent of House Potter?" he eventually asked silkily.
Amelia chuckled lowly. "I suppose I should have known better than to be able to hide anything from you, Frank."
"My father and grandfather trained me well," Frank smirked. "I may not have been in Slytherin, but you don't have the family that I have and not something rub off!"
Amelia could only nod in agreement. In his time, Harfang Longbottom was one of the most feared lawyers in England. Whether as a prosecutor or defence lawyer, there were very few who were undaunted at the prospect of having to face the man in a court room. Francis Longbottom I was a Quartermaster to the Aurors and had more Black in him due to his mother Callidora than Longbottom, apparently. Frank was a right chip of the old block, though many underestimated him due to his slightly weedy appearance.
Frank turned rather serious. "I take it not many people know that you are looking into James Potter's case again."
"I do not have enough evidence to warrant re-opening it," Amelia readily admitted. "But I also know that from what I just read, some serious corners were cut. As far as I can tell, there were no follow-up questions asked nor any in depth research into the circumstances surrounding Lord Potter's death."
"That is because there were none," Frank confirmed bluntly, much to Amelia's surprise. A cold smile appeared on his face. "As you know, Alice and I were amongst the first group to be pulled in for questioning. Most of the questions were on the topic of James' then current mission, which was obviously classified and we could not talk about it. We expected to be called back in after a few weeks, maybe a month – but we never were. We were only told that the case had gone cold, was inconclusive and that was that."
Amelia could hardly believe her ears. "By whom were you told this?"
"Roger Haywood and Alastor Moody," Frank sighed. "Of course, ever since then I felt like something was off but I could not quite put my finger on it. It felt weird … rushed, almost. Like the case was only given minimal attention and that was it. I mean, a Lord – a Nobleman whose name was supposed to be amongst the Sacred Twenty-Eight – is slain in a botched Auror mission? That just doesn't happen by accident!"
Frank swigged back his coffee, looking extremely agitated. Amelia frowned. "Frank, did you or Alice receive a threat or any messages that could be perceived as threatening?" she wanted to know.
"Us? No!" Frank reassured immediately. He then frowned. "Though I was asked a few times if I had any of James' old journals."
"His old journals?" Amelia repeated.
Frank nodded. "Told them that I didn't, and that even if I did, they would need a warrant for them. They never came with a warrant to my house."
Amelia bit into her sandwich as she processed what she had heard.
"Did you ever voice your concerns to anyone?" she wanted to know after finishing her mouthful.
Frank scoffed. "No. Not even to Lily Potter. You never know if the walls have ears."
"Quite," Amelia agreed readily.
"Let me know if Alice and I can be of any further assistance," Frank got to his feet. "James was a colleague and a friend. Whoever did this needs to answer for what they have done."
"I will," Amelia vowed.
"Tread with care, though," Frank warned. "There will be those who do not want this case re-opened. For whatever reason. If they are willing to cover up what happened to James, they will likely find a way to stop you."
"I am aware. Thank you for the warning, Frank."
"Wizarding Britain needs you alive, Amelia," Frank smiled, and left to take care of his own paperwork.
Amelia was left alone with her thoughts and her contemplations about what her next steps should be. Simply up and talking to everyone who had been involved in the case was very likely to set off the alarms – it was too risky at present. She could go and study the scene of the crime, but there was always the chance that there was an unwanted witness.
No, it was more prudent to wait and see if Lily Potter's own investigation was bearing fruit. Amelia sipped her chai tea latte. She really did hate relying on other people to get the results she wanted!
Lord Slytherin had barely paid any attention to what he and Lucius Malfoy had been discussing regarding Lucius' plans for the new education reform bills. Indeed, the Dark Lord's mind had been fixed on getting information from Macnair ever since Draco had informed him of the dangers posed once again by poachers to Harry's beloved dragons. It annoyed Marvolo to no end that he could not be seen to care for his own family in public – he could not wait for the day that Harry would enter the Wizengamot himself the charade could be dropped a fraction.
"Well, I think you know what you are doing, Lucius, and you have my whole-hearted backing," Marvolo stated as he rose elegantly to his feet the moment Lucius had finally stopped babbling.
"Thank you, my Lord," Lucius stated with a bow of his head.
"Now, if you would excuse me, I have another meeting to attend to," Marvolo half-fibbed. "It has come up rather last minute but it is nonetheless important that I attend it."
"Of course, my Lord," Lucius answered graciously.
Marvolo swept out of Lucius' study without saying another word or giving a backwards glance. He ignored the curtsies from Narcissa, Bella and their female friends – apparently Lady Malfoy was entertaining once again. Once outside, Marvolo Apparated away to the home of Macnair in York.
Macnair's house was one of the medieval buildings in the magical street that was close to The Shambles, York's medieval shopping street. Though the Executioner had a London home, Walden Macnair still preferred to live in his family home in York. Marvolo found that he didn't sneer at his surroundings, not even once – not even at the Muggles around. He could see why Macnair loved living in the place so much. There was something soothing about living in a small house in a big city.
Anonymity, for one.
As Marvolo knocked on the door, he hoped that Macnair had not been called to London to execute any magical animals and that he did not make a wasted journey. Fortunately, not long after he had knocked, the door opened. Macnair opened, looking quite red in the face. Either he was still a little hungover or the Executioner had been busy in his forge.
Macnair's eyes widened a little. "M-my Lord?" he stated in disbelief.
"Hello, Walden," Marvolo smirked. "I hope I am not disturbing you. May I come in?"
"I … Yes, yes of course," Macnair answered, stepping out of the doorway, bowing his head. "Make yourself at home, sir. I … will make some tea."
"No need to trouble yourself, Walden. I will not be staying too long. I simply wanted to discuss something with you," Marvolo answered as he made himself at home in the simple, austere living room. Macnair followed suit, looking stiff with apprehension. Marvolo thought it was best to put the man out of his misery. "It has come to my attention that you went out to the tavern recently."
Macnair looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He gulped. "Yes, my Lord."
"You don't deny it?"
"No, sir."
"It also seems that we have to teach you further to show some self-restraint," Marvolo continued crisply. "Because you very nearly did not pick up on the information that is vital to Lord Potter."
Macnair suddenly realised what this was about. "The potential poachers."
"Exactly," Marvolo concurred coolly.
"I only caught one name, if we can even call it that," Macnair scoffed. "Dung."
"So young Malfoy told me," Marvolo sighed. "The issue is, as it always is with heavy drinking, memories get tucked away. Names, faces, events – saved for a later date. That is rather inconvenient for the situation we find ourselves in. Fortunately," he smirked, "we do have a solution."
"My Lord?" Macnair frowned.
Marvolo bore his gaze into Macnair's. "Legilimens!"
Macnair's mind was a cluttered mess. Not one thought, memory or feeling was ordered properly. It was a labyrinth with twists and turns that made no sense, and Marvolo could not wait to withdraw from it. Then he found the abyss that was the suppressed memories, induced by the drink. Marvolo quickly rummaged through them, until he found the memory that he was looking for.
From what the fuzzy memory was able to retain, there were at least four men who could be this Dung person, and at least one of the men was possibly a werewolf, but the rugged looks of him. There was a podgy looking man dressed in leather and one lean fellow with his back to Macnair. It made Marvolo growl in frustration – he would need Macnair to actually remember this scene in order to watch it in a Pensieve!
Marvolo withdrew from his ally's head, not at all happy.
Macnair gulped when he saw the red sheen in his Lord's eyes. "It will come back to me eventually, my Lord," he whispered. "It almost always does."
"Let us hope so," Marvolo hissed. "Because if anything happens to those dragons, and it was any one of those men, I will hold you personally responsible!"
Macnair flinched as several of his windows cracked. "Yes, my Lord!"
Marvolo growled, glowered at him for one more moment and then shot to his feet. "Let me know the moment you remember anything about those people – including what they smelled like."
Macnair did not dare to argue. Marvolo breezed out of his home without looking over his shoulder. Lord Slytherin was contemplating a visit to Lily to tell her what was going on, but he really did not want to bother her when he didn't have any evidence to go on. Ruining Harry's time with Rodolphus was not high on his priority list.
Lily found herself excited and nervous as she prepared to head to her son's dragon reserve that afternoon. The morning business fortunately did not take too long, so the Lady Regent found herself able to take a nice relaxing bath and take her time to get dressed, and still be on time to meet with the draconic members of the family. Lily could not help but feel a little guilty about not visiting them as often – she did not want to bother Harry while he was at work. Hopefully the dragons did not take it too personally.
"Mistress must wear her dragon boots and anti-fire cloak," Nipsy insisted as Lily came down the stairs, both items in hand.
Lily smiled fondly at the fussy elf. "Thank you, Nipsy. I will."
"Nipsy will not be happy if Mistress comes back with nasty burns," the elf stated primly.
"I doubt that will happen, but one can never know with dragons," Lily answered with a beaming smile as she laced her dragon-scale combat boots. "Accidents do happen, especially when emotions are running high. Which they currently are."
"Mistress just needs to exercise caution," Nipsy replied simply.
"Indeed," Lily concurred readily as she put on her cloak. "I will be back before dinner."
"Good. Nipsy is making Mistress's favourite," the elf informed happily.
"Then I will definitely be back!" Lily grinned.
The Lady Regent chuckled to herself as she left the house. Nipsy and her antics still did not cease to amuse Lily, even after all these years. Although it did have to be said that Nipsy and some of the other elves were sometimes a little too protective of her and Harry. For good reason, but still – it did irk Lily on occasion. Neither she nor Harry were china dolls.
On the journey to the reserve, Lily could not help but think about how James would have loved to visit the dragon reserve. No doubt he would have found the time to visit Harry's dragons much more often than she did. James had always been naturally drawn to danger and adventure – the dragons surely ticked all the boxes. James would have made the best human grandfather to the Hebrideans.
She could practically hear his voice at this point.
Children, look! Here is the coin but now – look, it is now a flower! Cool, right? … Lils, I don't think they were impressed. Who wants the first hug from Grandpa James? Owaine, you just need to get out there and make yourself available. You have amazing scales and those wings – what lady dragon would not want their kids to have an amazing set of wings?
The Lady Regent of House Potter was rather amused to see that there was a welcome party for her. Anya and Lila were a given, as were Bartok, Synok, Rocla and Layna but there was another there: the man everyone simply referred to as Oakington, the Head Dragonologist at the reserve. The man was a giant, standing at over six foot, with dark hair and piercing grey eyes; his stature and menace metre was exacerbated by the fact he was always dressed in black.
"Lady Potter! Welcome," Oakington greeted warmly as Anya and Lila curtseyed to her, which made Lily roll her eyes a little.
"How many times do I need to say it? Outside formal audiences and Wizengamot sessions, please refer to me as Lily," Lily chuckled. "Constant formality becomes redundant after a while."
*Grandma Lily!* the draconic children were more than happy to ditch formality altogether. They started hissing something else very quickly that Lily simply could not understand, but she knew they were extremely happy and excited to see her.
Anya chuckled at the Hebrideans. "They have been looking forward to your visit ever since we told them you were coming," she informed Lily with a mischievous smile. "We don't know precisely how much since Harry cannot tell us, but our eyes tell us enough."
"Indeed," Lily agreed readily, patting Synok on the head after the young dragon nudged her hand with his snout. She then sobered a little. "I have been hearing from Harry that there have been more incidents than normal recently."
The countenances of the Dragonologists darkened a little, as did the dragons'.
"That is a very apt description," Oakington sighed. "Shall we walk and talk? Inyala is awaiting you."
The Hebrideans hissed emphatically in agreement.
"So, what has been going on?" Lily wanted to know. "And please do not leave a single detail out."
"Well, as you know it started with one incident of poachers managing to break into the reserve," Oakington began as they set off. "Unfortunately they were only identified by their scents."
"Pendragon dung, sweat socks and cabbages," Lily remembered, the dragons hissing in confirmation.
"Exactly," Lila confirmed. "However," she cleared her throat, "not too long ago, one or more of them came back."
"What?!" Lily's eyes bugged out at hearing this. "When? How? I thought the defences were fortified – why did I not hear about this from Harry?"
Lily seemed to be able to answer her own question because it very quickly occurred to her why, especially from the three guilty countenances that she was now looking at. "You didn't tell him, did you?"
"No," Anya agreed.
"And why in the name of sweet Circe would you not tell your only Parselmouth and human father to some of your dragons that his children and friends were once again put into danger?" Lily demanded, eyes flashing dangerously. The wind suddenly picked up out of nowhere, causing Anya and Lila to gulp. "Whose half-baked decision was that?"
"Mine," Oakington stated lightly, trying to ignore the gale. "We feared that if he was told, Harry would cancel his well-earned trip to Wales with the Lestranges. The boy deserves a moment of peace and quiet-"
"He also deserves to know that his family is safe," Lily shot back just as easily. The Lady Regent took a few deep breaths, attempting to maintain some control over her anger and her magic. "OK, how did they get in?"
"The eastern side of our reserve is not as well warded as the rest," Anya admitted. "The Aurors didn't have enough time to finish what they started."
"Well, then, we will have to see that they do, or someone does the job they should have done," Lily stated crisply.
"We have also been discussing the option of installing Muggle surveillance technology around the dragon reserve," Oakington continued. "We have been trying to keep it on the downlow, though, whilst we try and smoke out the traitor in our ranks."
"Traitor?" Lily repeated, eyes wide.
"Hallow pointed out that these attacks can't be a coincidence that they happened since Metis and Inyala's eggs have hatched," Lila informed darkly. "We are convinced that some information has been passed to a hostile party but at present our method of trying to prise the information out of people is not going very well."
Lily chuckled mirthlessly. "Can't say that I am surprised! You are Dragonologists, not Aurors or Hit Wizards! Besides, a wide spread interrogation is a sure way of making whoever it is turn inwards and lie low for a while."
"Do you have some suggestions then?" Anya wanted to know.
"The surveillance cameras could definitely work, especially if there is a Glamour on them," Lily stated. She smirked. "Fortunately, I know a company that could be an option. They have both magical and Muggle clients. I will make a call and arrange something."
"Thank you, Lily," Oakington sighed in relief, as did Anya and Lila.
"I also suggest that Lila get in touch with Augustus and see if he can use his Unspeakable talents and some of his social connections to get some help. As for a traitor, you need a more Slytherin approach," Lily continued with a smile. "Do not tell anyone what kind of Glamours are on the camera, lull them into a false sense of security and perhaps catch them in a well-laid trap."
The Dragonologists blinked a few times, exchanged a look and then Lila laughed.
"Still cannot believe you were not a Slytherin," she stated.
"A lot of people share that sentiment," Lily remarked with a smirk.
The discussion was soon interrupted by the nesting Opaleye, who had heard voices and wanted to investigate the newcomer. Inyala seemed to recognise her, Lily observed, because the dragon's eyes turned from suspicious to surprised. Lily stood stock still as Inyala flicked out her tongue to take in her scent and had to laugh when the Opaleye began hissing happily.
"Hello, Inyala. It has been a while."
Lily was quite happy to endure the inquisitive hissing from Inyala's children. Lily had not been up close and personal with dragon hatchlings since Bartok, Synok, Rocla and Layna, and she did not realise how much she had missed that feeling of wonder at seeing baby dragons. Lily was quite reluctant to leave them – they were all so cute.
Next Owaine proudly introduced her to his three mates. As Harry had warned her, Arca hid behind her wings away from Lily despite calls of encouragement from her keepers and draconic friends, Marsha had been initially a little hostile but calmed down after Rocla had said something to her, and Guendolin offered Lily some berries from one of their berry bushes.
Last but not least, Lily visited Metis and her children. As with most people, the young Pendragons had tackled the Lady Regent to the ground in their enthusiasm, despite the protests from everyone around them. Lily had simply started laughing; she was fairly certain she would have a couple of bruises, but she really did not care, especially when she understood a few things that were being said to her, and about her.
*Harry's mama is pretty!*
*I like her hair – like our fire.*
*Maybe she has dragon blood?*
Rocla and Bartok herded the young dragons off Lily while Layna helped her up, Lily still chuckling.
"I think I need to visit more often," she stated.
Layna nodded in agreement, and Lily could have sworn the young dragon was grinning. The Lady Regent scoffed to herself, chuckling. Did all dragons pick up human habits, or was it just the four Hebrideans?
Lily picked herself up off the ground and dusted herself down and then casted a quick Tempus. Oh boy she was due to meet Evan in thirty five minutes! Time really had flown by too quickly.
Layna looked at her knowingly and nuzzled Lily gently. Lily patted her draconic granddaughter's head with a smile. "I will be back as soon as possible," Lily promised.
Layna nodded. Lily then looked at Oakington, Anya and Lila. "I need to go. I will make the call and get back to you."
"Of course. Thank you again for everything," Oakington smiled gratefully.
"And tell my son the truth when he is back," Lily added crisply.
"We will," Anya promised.
"Good."
Anya, Lila and the Hebrideans saw Lily back to the front of the dragon reserve. As soon as she was out of the boundaries of the reserve, Lily Apparated away to the Leaky Cauldron. She was rather pleased that most people ignored her, mostly on the account of her rather masculine attire, but smiled in amusement as Tom the innkeeper bowed his head to her, recognising her in an instant. Lily went to the back of the pub, tapped the wall with her wand and walked happily down the bustling streets of Diagon Alley. Despite the cloudy weather, it was as busy as ever, mostly due to first years gathering school supplies.
As she dodged past families and shoppers, Lily took out one of the few Muggle devices she owned: her mobile phone and dialled the number that she had not needed in a good few years. Quietly, the Lady Regent hoped the person would not immediately hang up.
After a few tones, the line was picked up.
"Greyback and Sons," the gruff voice stated.
"Hello, Farkas," Lily answered.
"Lily Potter," the werewolf responded curtly. "I must say, this is the last thing I expected today."
"Trust me, I did not plan on calling you either," Lily reassured. "However, I have not been really given much of a choice."
"If this is about James, I am not interested," Farkas growled.
"It isn't. It's about the safety of my son's dragons," Lily replied coolly. "You could say I am offering you business. I hear you are in dire need of it."
"No doubt it comes with an 'I owe you'," the werewolf snarled.
"Not this time, Farkas. This time it's a genuine olive branch," Lily answered sadly.
"Nothing ever comes for free with you, Lily, not even an olive branch," Farkas responded coldly. "There is nothing that you can ever do that will compensate me for what happened to Fenrir."
Lily closed her eyes. She had waited for this to be brought up. "Your son was biting children, Farkas. The law was never going to be lenient to him, especially after showing no remorse."
"Those children were dying!" Farkas snarled.
"Except Remus Lupin," Lily reflexively pointed out. "Look, I did not call you to start an argument. There are people in dire need of help who are desperate. I was merely thinking of them. But if you will not help-"
"I did not say that," Farkas growled. "The reserve: what do they need?"
"The best surveillance cameras that you have," Lily answered candidly. "Ones that could also theoretically be hidden away or disguised with Glamours."
"Hmmm … I do have something like that," Farkas confirmed. "But it will cost you."
"Obviously," Lily suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.
"Oh no, I am not talking money," the werewolf informed with an insidious growl. "For once, you will owe me!"
Lily tried not to gulp. "Very well."
"These dragons are that important to you, huh? All right. Pleasure doing business with you. Give me the reserve's number," Farkas stated, suddenly sounding much more business-like. Lily obeyed and soon as she did, Farkas hung up.
Could have gone worse, Lily stated to herself.
Just as she got off the phone with Farkas Greyback, Lily rounded the corner to the old duelling club James and Sirius used to frequent. Leaning against one of the walls next to the entrance, was Evan, looking up now and again from a book. As she approached, Lily had to smile to herself. Evan Rosier was reading the first book in the series of Galvanists versus Necromancers.
"I told you that the story was pretty good," she could not help but comment. The Lady Regent giggled a little as Evan jumped a bit at the sound of her voice.
Evan recovered quickly and grinned wryly. "I suppose the saying 'never judge a book by its cover' is said for a reason."
"Indeed," Lily readily concurred. She sobered a little. "Did you have to wait long?"
"No," Evan reassured quite quickly. "Ten minutes, maybe? I have to say I rather lost track of time."
Lily nodded. She then stared down the alleyway, her countenance serious. "So is this where you witnessed the altercation between James and this unknown person?"
"Yes," Evan confirmed quickly, shutting the book and putting it into the inner pocket of his cloak. "Just a little off to the side, though. Where most people would not notice them so easily. Between those two buildings there."
Evan pointed to the narrow alleyway between the Victorian buildings that were home to offices and apartments. Lily frowned and immediately headed towards it with Evan following close behind.
"And you really did not see his face? Or hers? Recognise a voice?" Lily could not help but interrogate as they approached the narrow passageway with a few stray cats and alley cats lazing around, eyeing them suspiciously.
"No," Evan answered grimly. "Had I recognised them I would have told Harry immediately."
"Of course," Lily sighed. "Forgive me, I just had to ask."
"It's all right, my Lady," Evan reassured with a small, soft smile.
"And this argument – James was threatening them?" Lily continued.
"Sounded more like a deadly promise to me," Evan responded candidly. "But he wasn't just making it to the guy or girl in question. He also indirectly made it to whomever they were working for."
"Which means, there could have been more than enough motive to make someone target James, and enough people in on the plan to make it look like an accident," Lily translated for herself. Her eyes flared with her magic, causing the resident cats to begin meowing in alarm. "There is one thing that I can try … it is a long shot but I think it is worth it."
Evan frowned in confusion but he didn't answer her. Before he could ask any questions, Lily's eyes began glowing with an eerie gold colour and she put the palm of her left hand onto the side of the building to the left of her. Evan's eyes widened as a golden light began travelling through the alley, causing the cats to either flee or jump up onto the balconies and fire exits above them. He watched as the golden light began to disperse into what looked more like particles of gold that began to mould themselves into different forms. Very soon Evan realised they had taken the forms of objects and people – two people to be exact.
As the spell took hold, Evan recognised the face of James Potter on one of these people – the other had his hood up and thus more than a good proportion of his face obscured. He had no idea what this spell was – clearly it was one designed by either Lord or Lady Potter – but he now rather wished that it was a more well-known spell. It looked like it could be beyond useful!
"What is this?" Evan could not resist asking.
"A nifty little spell James and I worked on," Lily answered with a sliver of nostalgia in her voice. "We don't have a name for it but it is supposed to allow the caster to glimpse a moment in time for a few minutes in order to establish a sequence of events. James used it a couple times on his more difficult assignments – I was a little annoyed by that because no one else knows we made a few spells together."
"So, how does this work?" Evan asked eagerly.
"I used what you told me in conjunction with what the alley has remembered to see if I can perhaps get a clue as to the identity of this mysterious hooded figure," Lily responded as she drew closer to the figures. "Because I do not know what this person sounds like, I cannot make an audio reconstruction."
"Wouldn't the alley remember?" Evan wanted to know.
"The alley witnesses many events in a day. It would not remember a particular voice," Lily answered darkly.
Evan then turned his attention onto the reconstruction of the person James was arguing with. The Rosier heir narrowed his eyes at the simulation, trying to see if he could get a sliver of a clue to the identity of this man, or woman for that matter. It was odd, but Evan first had a look at the clothes – from what his pureblood eye could discern, the clothes were of very high quality. Indeed, he was prepared to go as far as to say it could have been one worn by one of Lord Slytherin's many allies. The Rosier heir then turned his eyes onto the lower half of the face that he could see.
The face, though perhaps pleasing, had a few blemishes here and there. Scars, mostly. Deep ones. One of them looked more like they were left by the claw of an animal rather than as result of a spell.
"Hmmm."
Lily frowned. "Evan, what is it?"
"My Lady, do you know anyone who happens to have a lot of scars on his face?" Evan inquired, not looking away from the person.
"A few people," Lily replied, also narrowing her eyes at the person. "Remus, for one. Alastor Moody is another. We know a few other werewolves, victims of werewolf attacks, vampire attacks."
"I think we should start looking at that list first," Evan stated, gesturing to the few visible scars. "Because whoever they are, they have money, they have a badly injured countenance and clearly did not want to be seen with your husband."
Arca knew she was not brave; in fact, Marsha loved to remind her how her sensitive nature could make her easy prey for the humans. It was a good thing Arca had no intention of ever going into the wild – she knew she would not survive it. However, Arca found she was getting a little bit annoyed at herself. Marsha and Guendolin had already explored their new home a little; Arca hadn't, for obvious reasons.
*It's really pretty here,* Owaine had attempted to coax her. *We even have a few small lakes!*
Arca had wanted to see the lakes, but was too scared to venture out of her lair. Well, today was the day – she promised herself – that she would see some parts of her home, and try not to freak out. The young Welsh Green had waited until Owaine, Guendolin and Marsha were distracted by their dinner and snuck out, making sure to stick to the undergrowth. Arca was not ready to walk along the path just yet.
She followed the excited hissing of Metis' children and let them guide her to their territory. Arca knew she would not be able to sneak past the Pendragons – their noses were too sharp for that – so she carefully padded past on the path, keeping a sharp, watchful eye out for any over excited younglings. But like most of the dragons, the Pendragons were currently distracted by their evening meal so Arca practically could sneak past quite easily.
The empty territories, Arca had to admit, were stunning. One had full access to one of the lakes, which made her a little jealous. The area reminded her a little of the lair she and her sisters had occupied at their previous reserve. Arca closed her eyes as she took in the noises around her. The chirping of the birds that dared to roost in the trees of the reserve, the water of the lake and even the wind had a smell to it that made Arca feel soothed.
Owaine had been wrong; the territories were not just pretty, they were magical!
Arca approached the lake with a little bit more confidence. She carefully dipped her claws in the water; hmmm, not too warm, not too cold. Slightly warmer than the waters in Wales, though. The Welsh Green cautiously moved to stand within the water's edge, splashing the water a little with her tail. It had been a while since she last went swimming.
Arca spent a good ten minutes frolicking in the water, giggling to herself and debating whether or not she should go and get her sisters and Owaine to join her. Then again, Marsha always splashed too much water for Arca's liking …
Suddenly, her ears pricked up and quickly and quietly as she could manage, Arca dived into the undergrowth. Her tongue flicked out to catch the scents of the humans or drakon in question.
The first scent – chocolate. Arca knew that scent from somewhere, but she couldn't quite put her claw on it.
The second … Pendragon dung.
Pendragon dung.
Pendragon dung!
Arca froze in pure fear. One of the people who had almost robbed Inyala of her hatchlings … was only a few metres from her hiding spot! The young Welsh Green did not even dare to breathe too loudly in case these walkers could hear her.
"-as if they would understand!"
"If you would only talk to Oakington or someone and explain, I think they would!"
"We both know they will summon the Aurors and have me flung into Azkaban for what I tried to do quicker than a Snitch can flit from one of a Quidditch pitch to the other."
Arca calmed herself down enough to try and listen in on their conversation.
:"Do the others even know what is going on with Rosalind at the moment?"
"No, Rob, and that is exactly how I want it to stay," was the agitated reply.
This Rob person scoffed. "For fuck's sake, Leo, if you're that desperate that you would stoop so low as to help these pieces of pond scum try and steal Inyala's eggs-"
"Ssssh!"
"-Oakington needs to know! You're being bloody blackmailed, mate!"
"Did you say anything to them when they questioned you?" came the suddenly urgent question.
"No, and when they find out, they are at least going to fire my arse for lying," Rob growled. "So you had better come clean or something because you have ensured that my neck is on the line as well."
Arca frowned. Pendragon dung … was one of the carers? One of the Dragonologists? But how? Bartok, Synok, Rocla and Layna would have smelled them already! How had those four missed him? And what was … blackmail? It didn't sound too good. Pendragon Dung and Chocolate sounded … scared.
"Was it you who gave those fuckers the tip that the east side was weak?" Rob-Chocolate demanded.
"For once, no," Pendragon Dung-Leo answered coolly. "I cut ties with them after the first botched attempt."
"Good. Any idea who it could be, though?"
"Not the foggiest idea. Perhaps one of the Aurors?"
"Maybe … but Hallow was right – whoever it was, they are one of us. Again."
Arca heard the footsteps and the scents recede. Carefully, she stuck her head out of the undergrowth. Gone – she didn't get to see their faces. The Welsh Green frowned to herself but then smiled proudly for a moment.
She knew who Pendragon Dung was – all she needed to do was put the voice and scent with the name.
Oh boy my schedule is hectic at the moment … I make a planning and then life decides to throw some obstacles in my path or send me down a different one! Same as Arca, it seems … things are getting interesting. Kingmaker'sUmbreon