Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger. When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained…
~Psalm 8: 2-3~
London
Ray and Martha Strider Residence
The kitchen was quaint. A large window spread out on one wall, it overlooked a table that held six chairs. Five of them filled. Light trickled and danced down through the windows to alight upon a gruff face.
The man, for he was a man, was disgruntled in his appearance. Dark circles cast shadows upon his eyes in the morning light as he sipped at a coffee. Grimacing in distaste as he was of the firm opinion that he needed something stronger the longer he flicked his dark eyes upon a curious newspaper with moving pictures.
Unease had long since settled into his bones since he stepped foot into this backward country and saw the damn brits driving on the wrong side of the road.
He lost count on how many times he almost crashed into a vehicle, add the stress of hunting a certain demon and then add a red-eyed bastard on top of that, and Bobby Singer needed something a lot stronger to drink.
However, given his present company, he settled for the black sludge Strider called coffee. Pursing his lips he glanced at a plump little woman by the stove that he had been introduced to a couple of days previous, Martha Strider, Ray Strider's squib of a wife.
She was a tiny thing, standing at just about five feet, with golden ringlets that cascaded over her plump shoulders and down her back.
The woman had beautiful molten amber eyes that shown with an innate kindness that reminded Bobby of his late wife.
Though Martha was a bit on the round side, it did nothing to distract from her beauty, and had Bobby been passing her in the street he would have never guessed that magic ran through her lovely veins.
Magic.
How he had loathed that word. For many years that word had been synonymous with demons.
Now, according to the texts and a few incognito visits through London's magical sector via Madam Strider, Bobby was forced to acknowledge that these magicals were just like everyday humans, only with something extra and a little less common sense with a disposition that tended to fall on the lazy side.
Not only that, Bobby had been going through their newspaper and any articles and books on their history that he could get his hands on, only to find that wizards tended to have a sheep mentality as a whole.
Perhaps that made them dangerous, perhaps this reinforced that they were only human, prone to mistakes.
But Bobby had found the wizarding population tended to follow whoever was in power almost blindly and their government suppressed many intelligent creatures and magics out of either fear or because the government wanted the populace to become agreeable to a certain way of thinking.
It disgusted him to the core. What pissed him off, even more, was this Dumbledore person. Someone who was portrayed to be this all-powerful leader of light and goodness.
A man who would say that everyone should be equal, be they non-magicals, "muggleborn" or creatures, and then go and vote for things to suppress their rights.
The old fart was a two-faced bastard that Bobby wouldn't mind putting a bullet between the bastards twinkling blue eyes.
He was an extremely powerful man, not only in magic supposedly but politically as well. The proof was right in front of him.
The bastard was responsible for putting the little miracle boy at that house where he was abused. From the looks of things, it was with the intention of the boy being broken, for what purpose Bobby had yet to determine.
But he had done his research and that blasted old man knew the boy's parents and their families. It is extremely unlikely that he didn't know how the Dursley family would react to raising the boy.
Yet, the man had managed to talk himself out of being held responsible for the boy's disappearance, treatment, and his most likely death. All he got was a "slap on the wrist" so to speak.
This angered Bobby to no end. The child that he now knew was named Harry Potter, a supposed hero of their world, was missing and presumed dead. And all the man responsible for it was getting was a small reprimand not to do it again.
Then the retarded wizarding populace put him back in charge of their children! How could these people be so stupid?! Bobby let out an irritated sigh as he threw the newspaper down on the table in disgust.
Startling his companions. Rufus who sat across from him sent him an understanding look as Bobby stood to stretch. After a satisfying crack, he grabbed his empty mug to take it to the sink, only to be intercepted by Strider's wife.
She took the cup gently and ushered him back to his seat setting a plate of warm rolls and jam in the center of the table. Putting a plate before each of the men and then placing one at a seat for herself.
"That poor child, what he must have gone through…" Martha shook her head as she took a seat next to her husband who was nursing a cup of tea silently. His blue eyes gazing at her. Gently he grabbed her hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.
A lump formed in Bobby's throat and he had to look away for a moment. Bobby's eyes caught Bandello's amber across from him. The man was regarding Bobby in intense scrutiny. Bobby resisted the urge to fidget. Bandello pursed his lips and then opened his mouth to speak.
"That red-eyed demon, he said the three of you were from Interpol…you're not are you?" He asked, his gaze solemn. Jim, who was sat next to him made a sound of alarm in the back of his throat.
Bandello's eyes flicked to him briefly before settling on Bobby. Rufus sighed through his nose and nodded at him before Bobby could form any words.
"We are hunters." He said. Martha and Ray Strider stiffened. Their eyes shooting to bounce between Bobby and Rufus and back. Ray carefully maneuvering himself to place himself in front of his wife. Bobby frowned at him and shook his head.
"Oh come off it, ya idjit. It's not like we're gonna shoot ya so full of rock salt you start crappin' margaritas…Pull your head outta your ass, if we were gonna shoot ya we woulda done it already." Bobby exclaimed. Bandello's eyebrows climbed further and further into his hairline the longer Bobby spoke.
"What type of hunter exactly?" Bandello questioned. Jim answered him quietly.
"We hunt the supernatural. Everything you've ever believed to go bump in the night, we hunt it. A thankless job, but if we don't do it, this world would be a crappier place." Jim said solemnly.
"And I suppose you're not a priest," Strider stated.
"No, I am. I just hunt in my free time." Jim stated. Bandello looked pointedly at Bobby.
"Are your names, really Frank Castle, Rupert Studdard, and Jim Murphy?" Bandello asked.
Bobby had the grace to look sheepish. Jim let out a breathless chuckle.
"Yes, my name is Pastor Jim Murphy. But my companions, however…" Jim trailed off.
"Bobby Singer." Bobby sighed.
"Rufus Turner," Rufus said after a moment.
There was an awkward silence as everyone tried to digest this new information. Bandello was having an inner struggle. Anger and acceptance were warring on his face.
The three hunters sat in the chairs nibbling on the warm rolls as they waited for what the man would do. Finally, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"In light of the events that transpired at the station and the fact that you three are way more experienced in the supernatural…" Bandello looked like he had swallowed something sour at this.
"I will ignore this obvious breach in the law. But make no mistake, I will not allow you to go impersonating law enforcement in my city again. Got it. I must uphold the law and this will be my only exception."
Bandello opened his eyes to pierce the hunters with a serious look and the hunters found themselves nodding in agreement. Though Bobby let out a quiet stream of profanities that Bandello chose to ignore.
Martha chose that moment to speak up.
"What will you do now that the trail has gone cold and the poor child has been pronounced dead?" She asked.
"The child isn't…" Rufus bit out. But Martha plowed right on over him.
"The ministry can no longer track his life energy. The only way that is known for this to happen is the child has come of age of magical maturity or is dead."
"The only way for a child that age to trick that spell would be if young Mr. Potter was ridiculously overpowered. Even with what happened in Privet Drive, the likelihood hood of that being the case…well it isn't very likely."
"If the child is alive, however, the only spell they have hope of finding him is the spell of Hogwarts founders. It is a spell that writes out the names of the letters of who will be attending Hogwarts that year. In that case, it will be three years before anyone will have the capability to find the child at all. So like I asked…What will you do?" She finished.
Rufus made a sound of protest in his throat as Bobby shook his head. His eyes shut in pain. Jim had begun to pray silently for the child's soul under his breath.
Bobby had only one word to say that could accurately describe what he was feeling at the time. Though in hindsight it didn't say much at all. He clenched his teeth and exhaled.
"Balls."