Chapter 3
By midnight Constantine had made his way through three of the rooms, and his pockets were stuffed, despite being bigger on the inside than the outside. He had gained some shrunken house elf heads, vials with varying types of powder he would have to analyze at the House of Mystery later, a dagger soaked in what he was fairly sure was virgin blood and encrusted with precious gems, and a rare sort of wizarding ink commonly used by idiots in dark rituals who believed they could substitute anything with an iron-based chemical and magical makeup for blood. Despite the ink’s lack of success in that department, it was quite useful in many potions.
That was an area John could admit he was a bit lacking in. For the most common uses of potions, there was usually a spell or magical artifact that could get the same job done in less time and effort, and thus he had never taken the time to master it.
Besides these finds, he had gathered a plethora of magical knick-knacks. Someone in the family had evidently taken up the hobby of cursing random objects in the house. Everything from handkerchiefs, to candlesticks, even a thimble. Why a Black was touching a thimble, he couldn’t say. If he had to guess, they were probably fucking with a house elf.
And it wasn’t a uniform curse, either. One of the objects, a silver candlestick with intricate inlaid carvings, had a tickling curse on it. Another, a beautiful brooch of a bird made out of emeralds and sapphires, was cursed to cause pain and madness, the kind that wouldn’t just drive a person mad, but also also cause one’s eyes and ears to bleed. After breaking past a couple wards, he got to more junk that would simply kill people, and was starting to get bored, when he noticed that there were wards so strong on one of the walls that they were glowing.
Breaking past these “secret” wards behind one of the wardrobes led to a magical hallway connected to a network of previously invisible rooms. Picking a random one, one of the less cursed ones, he entered what looked like a study, only it was tea-themed. He elected to ignore the strange choice of decor. A cuppa wasn’t the worst thing someone could come up with.
He was excited because he finally found a bookshelf, and immersed himself in learning new spells and rituals. While they were mostly wand-based and tackling problems he already had solutions to, he did find an interesting section detailing a possible addition to a summoning circle which could theoretically hide part of the circle from whatever entity was summoned. This had thousands of possible implications, and only required a few drops of the caster’s blood. A typical glamour spell wouldn’t work on many of the types of entities Constantine fought.
Around four in the morning he felt like he might be able to fall asleep, so he released the house elf and took a bed, in one of the many, many rooms with a bed. He spent about thirty minutes carving protective symbols into the floors and walls, and lining the doorway and other possible entrances with salt.
When he finally hit the pillow, he was out in about an hour. Falling asleep so fast was a pretty amazing accomplishment for him, as he wasn’t piss drunk.
Unfortunately, the sleep didn’t last, and he was up again at eight. Grumbling to himself, he made his way downstairs towards a source of coffee. Sue him, he spent too much time in the states and tea wasn’t enough of a morning caffeine fix anymore.
Shuffling into a kitchen where breakfast was making itself, he growled when he realized these heathens didn’t have a coffee machine, passing a silent Remus. As he neared the exit, his old mate spoke up.
“Not a care about the trial, then?”
“What trial?”
“Harry’s underage magic tribunal.”
Despite the seriousness in Remus’s tone, John couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. “Worst they can do is snap his wand. Who knows, he might even be better off.”
Remus became furious. “Worst they can do? He belongs here, his family–”
“Sirius will never abandon him. And if he still wants to learn magic, I can teach him.”
“He doesn’t live with Sirius.”
“What are you on about?”
“He lives with the Dursley’s, Lily’s sister’s family.”
“Lily’s sister. Who hates her because she can’t use magic?”
“I didn’t make the arrangement, and can’t change it.”
“The hell do you mean you can’t change it? You’re an available adult.”
“I’m a werewolf, and unemployed more often than not. Besides, he’s safe from the Death Eaters there because of the blood wards.”
“That’s bollocks. A likely abusive situation is better than any of the available order members?”
“The death eaters are only getting more and more powerful. He’s safest there.”
“It’s too early to listen to this shite.” John growled as he made his way out the door.
“You know there’s a Fi–” Remus started, but was interrupted by John slamming the front door shut.
Upon leaving the safehouse, John realized that he could not remember where it was. Oh. Fidelius charm. That’s what Remus was trying to say.
Taking a deep breath, he focused on locating a source of magic near him. After a few minutes of breathing, he opened his eyes and could see the safehouse again. Satisfied that he’d be able to get back, he took off to find a coffee source, lighting a cigarette as he made his way down the porch steps.
There was a mediocre looking breakfast place a block down the street and he settled onto a stool while a large older woman puttered around taking orders.
“Just a coffee, love.” He muttered, staring blankly at the wall. He had a bad feeling about Harry’s living situation. He hadn’t known Lily that well, but Sev had told him about how jealous her sister was of her magic.
He hoped that hate hadn’t carried into adulthood, but watching Harry’s general demeanor didn’t lend credit to the optimistic theory.
It wasn’t his problem. It shouldn’t even matter to him, and hadn’t he decided that he didn’t care about what happened to this backwards place?
But Harry wasn’t a broken, backwards society. He was just a kid. An orphan, who was probably stuck in an abusive home. The son of one of the men he owed the most in the world.
Fuck. He couldn’t back out now, could he? Besides, Sirius deserved to actually have custody of his godson.
John sipped at his coffee and sighed. At least he had an entire school year to figure it out. Snapping out of his trance, he looked around, only to see his current employer had decided to join him.
“JESUS FUCKING Christ, Albus, what the fuck?”
Albus Dumbledore, in all of his hypocritical, eye-twinkling, manipulative glory was sitting at the bar of a muggle diner wearing robes that looked like they came out of a primary school’s cheesy Camelot play.
“Now then, is there truly a reason for such vulgarity?”
“Shut the fuck up. It’s your fault I’m back here in the first place, and I’ll bloody well complain about it if I want.”
The git’s eyes still sparkling when John felt the first nudges of legilimency at the edge of his mind’s defenses. “You sure you want to open that can of worms, luv? Go ahead, take a look around in there, see if you’re still sane afterwards. I can’t even handle it in there on a good day.”
Albus chuckled and stopped brushing at his defenses. “You can’t fault me for making sure my new defense hire isn’t completely inept. Besides, we still haven’t discussed the terms of our arrangement.”
The two of them had history after Newcastle, and somehow John had gained the older wizard’s trust enough that he didn’t have to deal with the benevolent grandfatherly front he put up in front of most people. “You get a teacher for a year, I get three million pounds. I don’t see what else needs to be said.”
The notice me not charm began to get a bit stronger, and Albus didn’t have a hand on his wand. Nice to get a little reminder that someone in this place wasn’t a complete pushover.
“I’m afraid it’s a bit more complicated then that, or I wouldn’t have gone to you specifically. But something tells me you already knew that.”
“So then, tell me. What’s the oh so grand catch.”
“Tom is getting more powerful by the day. We need someone who can protect the child of the prophecy, and maybe make him a bit more mortal. You practice a type of magic he hasn’t faced before, making you an ideal candidate.”
“You know, horcruxes don’t really make someone immortal. It’s not even a life, really.”
“So you do know about the horcruxes.”
“I’m a dark warlock, mate. When they came knocking at my door, you think I didn’t do my research?”
“Then I suppose I can skip most of the explanation. You will also be horcrux hunting.”
“Yeah yeah, I’ll do your little scavenger hunt. Now the question is, what do you have for me?”
A small brown bag suddenly materialized on the counter, almost knocking his coffee over. “This should cover the first month’s pay.”
Reaching over into the bag, John could feel the galleons clinking together. The bag itself was spelled to be light, but he could tell the difference between fake galleons and real ones, having fooled some people with counterfeits back in the day. A sarcastic comment started to form on the tip of his tongue about compensation, but the wizard was gone.
“Flashy fucking git.”
Damn. His coffee had gotten cold too.