Chapter 9
Adama sat back with a heavy sigh, and scrubbed a hand over his face. Tired, bloodshot eyes drifted over the whiteboard, then down over the scattered papers on the table in front of him. He was exhausted, and despite a small amount of progress, there was no end in sight.
Brady entered the room with some take away and coffee for the team, the smell of Indian quickly filled the room, the offering gratefully received by the half dozen hungry men and women.
"Anything new?" Brady asked as he sat down, opening his own container and eagerly starting on his chicken tikka masala.
"A little, but not much that's significant," Adama grumbled, even as he tore off a piece of naan and dipped it in his own curry. "Tim hasn't been able to turn up much, though he's working his way up the ranks at a steady pace. From what we can tell, it's confirmed that there are two mercenaries that handle the bulk of the work, but only under direct orders from above. They function as assistants and bodyguards to Vahan's Boy, who is the only one with confirmed direct access to the top boss. Paranoid bastard." He snorted derisively. "It's unclear if these 'Hounds' have access as well, but the current thinking is that they don't."
"So what do we know about Vahan's Boy then?" asked their newest member, Mary Drewitt. The blond woman had only recently been transferred from Homicide to Organised Crime, and had been immediately assigned to the Vahan task force - otherwise known as Strikeforce Wizard.
"Not much," came the grudging reply. "We don't even have a name, let alone a picture. All the sources agree that he exists, and many have seen him, but we haven't been able to get a solid description. There was a second kid that sometimes ran scut jobs for them, Tiny, but he seems to have disappeared." Adama winced, feeling more than a little guilt at the thought that he might have contributed to the child's death by approaching him and bringing him to the station.
Mary chewed thoughtfully.
"What about those 'Hounds'? What do we know about them?"
"Same," Brady grunted, not looking up from his meal. "No solid description, but we have some names. Alexander Charleston, and Sergei Petrikov. Problem is that we can't find any info on either of them, it's like they don't exist. Pretty sure that they're just an alias since there's no paperwork for either of them. What we do know is that these guys have been around for quite a while, before they were hired by Vahan. They've been linked to over thirty assassinations and nearly a hundred assaults, but nobody has been able to find them, let alone prove anything. Even if we've managed to arrest and convict their employers, we've never been able to get close to these guys. They're known to be extremely violent, but they're smart. Scarily so."
"Are we sure one of them, or even both, aren't really Vahan? They could be using the kid and rumours as a cover." Mary shrugged.
The rest of the men in the room froze, thinking about her suggestion. Suddenly, all of them were talking at once, standing up and grabbing papers, a flurry of activity filling the room as they forgot their meals in their new excitement.
Lifting her dinner out of the way, Mary leaned back and watched, her eyes glittering in amusement.
'You're welcome, kid,' she thought.
Harry gave a nod of thanks to Gutshank, and activated the portkey to leave the bank. His suspicion that his parents personal effects might be in one of his vaults had proven correct, and he now had a trunk full of useful odds and ends, as well as a pile of diaries from his mother. Whatever it was about his 'mother's eyes' that had Snape all twisted up was probably in the little books, or at least a hint of what it might be.
He just hoped Snape wasn't some crazy stalker, because the last thing he needed was for the dungeon bat to transfer his obsession to Harry, just because he shared a feature in common with the woman who birthed him.
"A message from Mr South," Alex said when Harry arrived at Fortress, handing him an envelope.
Harry picked up his letter opener and slit the paper open, pulling out the missive. A quick glance over it and a wide smile spread across his face, his delighted laugh ringing out in the office.
Shot, the Hounds, and even the Smith golem paused to stare at him, unused to hearing such childlike mirth coming from the slender boy.
"Do you remember that girl we rescued from the Acolytes a while back?"
The other people nodded, wary.
"Her mother is a cop, and feels particularly indebted to me for saving her only daughter. So she got herself assigned to the Vahan task force and has given them a new tail to chase. Apparently, she suggested that Alex and Sergei are really Vahan, and that myself and the rumours surrounding our 'boss' are just to draw attention away from you!"
Harry started giggling again, this time joined by the laughter of his employees.
Draco was practically bouncing when they got ready that morning.
Harry watched in amusement as the blond boy chattered excitedly in front of the mirror, combing out his hair and slicking it back carefully.
They were both standing at the sinks in nothing but towels wrapped around their waists, the bench in front of them littered with various beautifying products - most of which belonged to Draco.
"How do you think you'll do?" Draco was asking, even as he rubbed a small amount of some variety of skin potion between his hands and smoothed it over his face.
Harry snorted.
"Draco, how long have we been flying? This is a beginners class, primarily to introduce muggle raised to broomsticks as a method of transport rather than dust removal. It's not like they're going to have us playing Quidditch in front of talent scouts in the first ten minutes. We'll be fine."
Draco pouted, but nodded in agreement.
"Still, it'll be fun to show everyone how it's really done!"
Harry frowned slightly, reaching out to catch Draco's arm with his fingertips as the pale boy turned to leave the bathroom.
"Draco, this is an excellent opportunity to build some goodwill connections with the other students, the ones I've pointed out especially. I don't expect you to play down your talent at all, but I do expect you to not cause trouble by bragging or exaggerating. If you see an opportunity to help someone, I expect you to do it. Don't make yourself look like a braggart or bully - I'll not have my reputation tarnished by association. Clear?"
Draco nodded, calming slightly.
"Anyone in particular you want me to keep an eye on?"
Harry thought for a moment.
"Granger. I know that she's been extremely nervous, and I'm sure her housemates haven't been doing much to help. Maybe Thomas as well, but he's fairly sporty and fearless, so I doubt you'll need to do much there. You don't need to teach them, that's what Hooch is for, just try to encourage them. Be…" Harry paused with a smirk. "Nice."
Draco rolled his eyes, but nodded.
"You're taking Neville then?"
Harry grimaced, but nodded.
"He's so nervous that I wouldn't be surprised if he maims himself despite my best efforts. He told me that his Grandmother wouldn't let him touch a broom, because he was so clumsy that he'd break his neck. There was something else in there about not living up to his father's legacy, but I get the impression that's a regular part of her lectures."
The blond sighed, and tightened his towel.
"Alright. We'd better get dressed before we miss out on breakfast."
Nodding in agreement, Harry followed Draco from the bathroom and headed to his wardrobe.
"Warthog? What collar do you want today?" He asked, laying his own clothes on his bed.
"Blue," she replied, grooming her tail.
Harry rolled his eyes at her tone, but dutifully withdrew the collar and clasped it around her throat before attending to his own clothing.
Sliding his form fitting boxers up his slim hips, he ignored the other boys chatting, and let his mind wander slightly. Things had been going well in his efforts to lure Longbottom and Granger, and Thomas was coming along nicely as well. All three were starting to look to him as the leader of their little group, helped in no small part by Draco's subtle deference. Crabbe and Goyle were both following him primarily because of Draco, but his helping them with their issues had made inroads towards earning their loyalty to him, independent from the Malfoy heir. It was really just a matter of time and opportunity now for all of them.
The noise of Crabbe and Goyle tousling playfully drew his attention, as did the indignant yelp of Zabini who had been knocked aside by their stocky forms.
Zabini. Now there was a conundrum. The boy was friendly enough, though quieter than the rest of Harry's group. He seemed to prefer to observe, and keep himself a little aloof. From what Harry understood, the boy was from a neutral family, though they had darker leanings if rumour about the boy's mother being a black widow was true. Unfortunately this made it hard for Harry to find an opening he could exploit.
Shaking his head as he buttoned and tucked his shirt, he resolved to put more effort into the boy. There had to be some chink in that infuriatingly polite armour.
The only real problem currently in the Slytherin first year boys was Theodore Nott. The boy was weedy, and looked a little rabbity in features, but he was extremely intelligent and cunning. For all that the boy was a loner, he was an opportunist, provided it didn't mean allying himself with any group in particular. Ordinarily that wouldn't be an issue, and Harry would let him be, but the boy had shown intense dislike for Harry, and kept a constant discrete watch on him. Draco had speculated that he was seeing if Harry was worth befriending, but the dark haired boy suspected something a little more sinister.
"For Merlin's sake, Harry. Here," Draco interrupted his musing, gently pushing Harry's hands out of the way and deftly knotting the tie for him.
"Thanks," Harry grinned sheepishly. "I'm thinking about just leaving it knotted and just loosening it enough to take on and off."
"Probably a good idea," Draco grinned. "Not that I mind doing your tie every morning, but people will start to talk."
Rolling his eyes, Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and exited the room, the blond in tow.
"You should be so lucky," he teased.
Draco snorted, but fell silent, walking in companionable silence up to the Great Hall.
The two boys settled at their table, the usual group falling into place around them. Harry smiled slightly when a prefilled plate appeared in front of him, with foods that Marcel had assigned for Harry's meal plan. He knew that Jinky had visited the Hogwarts elves, and passed on Harry's meal requirements after the first week of trying to eat the heavy and greasy fare that Hogwarts usually provided had left him vomiting and clutching his stomach on the bathroom floor. Marcel had been concerned, but the Healer had expressed hope that Harry would grow out of his sensitive stomach as he got older. In the meantime, Harry's meals were very carefully monitored, and a few heavier items added in small amounts every few days to acclimate him to a less stringent diet.
Picking at his mushrooms and wilted baby spinach, his eyes drifted over the hall, absorbing countless details and slotting them neatly into his mental files and plans. He watched as Longbottom received a package containing a small ball that filled with red smoke when the boy held it, but frowned when the red haired brat started mocking the nervous boy. He nudged Draco and nodded discretely to draw his attention to the scene.
Draco glanced up, watching the scene with disgust.
"I see Weasley is as well-mannered as ever," noted Zabini dryly.
The surrounding Slytherins snorted lightly, returning to their breakfasts.
"We'll need to watch him during the flying lesson today. I wouldn't put it past him to try to knock us off our brooms or something equally foolish," the Italian mused, sipping his tea.
"I agree," Harry murmured, taking a bite of his Eggs Benedict, pausing a moment to fully appreciate the perfectly prepared salmon and toasted sourdough. "I've asked Draco to try to keep Granger and Thomas calm, to try to prevent accidents, and I'll do what I can for Longbottom. Would you be willing to keep an eye on Weasley?"
Zabini nodded.
"I think it would be better the other way around though. Granger doesn't really like Draco, and isn't as likely to trust him. Besides, Draco flies better than I do, so if there's trouble he's better able to handle it."
"Alright," Harry hummed, a quick glance at Draco showing his agreement with Zabini's statement. "Is there anything else I should be aware of for this lesson?"
"Old brooms," grunted Goyle around a mouthful of greasy bacon.
"How old," asked Draco warily.
"Ancient," muttered a passing seventh year.
Draco grimaced in distaste.
Harry narrowed his eyes in thought. Perhaps this would be an excellent opportunity for Mr Smith to be introduced to the Board of Governors? Given the cost of tuition, it was unlikely that there was insufficient money to replace worn out equipment. A sly smile crept across his face as he began making plans, for once completely oblivious to the fear his expression was inspiring in the people around him.
Looking around the courtyard, Harry was unsurprised to find all the students automatically separating themselves into houses, even as they stood around waiting for the teacher. A quick motion with his chin had his Slytherins sliding over to the Gryffindors and positioning themselves near their marks. Harry himself moved gracefully into position next to Longbottom, and gave the trembling boy a Reassuring Smile.
"Alright there, Longbottom?" He asked quietly.
The chubby boy glanced at him in surprise.
"Y-yeah, just, you know. I'm going to mess up, I know it!"
"You'll be fine, just breath, ok?" Harry took half a step closer. "Just listen to the teacher, she knows what she's about; and I'll stick next to you, just in case."
Longbottom looked at him with wide eyes.
"You'd really do that?"
Harry nodded and smiled, clapping him on the shoulder.
"Sure I will. What are friends for?"
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Madam Hooch, the flying instructor. The woman was older, and her silvery grey hair was cut short and spiked up all over her head. Harry suspected that if it was any longer it would be as frizzy and untameable as Grangers. Her yellow hawk-like eyes swept over the class, and she gestured impatiently towards the waiting rows of broomsticks.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Everybody go stand by a broomstick!"
The class quickly moved to their assigned places, and waited for the next instruction.
"Hold your hand up over your broomstick, and say, clearly and firmly, 'up'."
She strode up and down the rows of students, offering encouragement and advice to students who seemed to be struggling.
Harry's broom jumped eagerly into his hand, and he grinned as he noticed Draco, Zabini, and Thomas had managed the same. Granger's wasn't even twitching, while Longbottom's just rolled and jerked slightly on the ground. He nearly laughed out loud when Weasley's flew up and the handle smacked him in the face.
Turning back to Longbottom, he smiled encouragingly.
"Longbottom, relax; take a deep breath. Just breathe. The broom isn't going to hurt you, but you need to be clear and firm. You command it. You'll be Lord Longbottom one day, right? Act like it!"
Longbottom turned wide eyes onto Harry, before taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders.
"Up!" He said firmly.
The broom leapt into his hand, and the boy turned to beam at Harry.
"Great!" Harry enthused, before turning his attention back to Madam Hooch who was now moving on to how to straddle the broom without falling off the end.
The woman eyed Harry, Draco and Zabini with approval as they assumed the proper position, and took the time to help their classmates. She paused long enough to correct Draco's grip, but otherwise offered no comment.
"Alright, when I blow my whistle, I want to you to kick off the ground hard, hover for a few seconds, then return to the ground by leaning forward slightly. On three! One, two-"
Before she could finish, Longbottom had panicked at the thought of being left behind and kicked off early, rising into the air. Terrified, he clutched the broom in a stranglehold, leaning forward in an effort to return to the ground. Unfortunately for him, he'd forgotten the key word, 'slightly'. The broom shot forward, jerking side to side as Longbottom grappled for control.
Harry could hear Madam Hooch shouting and demanding that Longbottom return to the ground immediately, and rolled his eyes. Kicking off the ground, he flew towards the panicking boy, hovering next to him and watching warily.
"Longbottom, it's ok! Relax!" His calls went unheeded, and he was forced to duck out of the way as the out of control broom went careening past, a wailing boy clinging desperately on top of it.
Harry watched helplessly as the broom crashed into the wall, bouncing off it and flipping upside down. Longbottom's hands slipped, and he started to fall, only for his robes to catch on a point of a statue and leave him dangling dangerously high above the grass.
"Whoa! Hang on, Longbottom! I've got you!" Harry manoeuvred underneath the dangling boy, wrapping an arm around his waist and guiding him onto the broom behind himself. Reaching up, he unhooked the robe from the statue, and began lowering them down.
This plan would have worked quite well, if not for one unfortunate oversight. The school brooms had been described as ancient, but this was generally considered hyperbole, for all that they were old. In actual fact, the brooms were approaching one hundred and fifty years old, and the charms on them had gotten a lot of wear over the years. The combined weight of the two boys was the final straw, and the charms failed with an audible snap.
Longbottom yelped as he and Harry immediately plunged toward the ground, his arms snapping painfully tight around Harrys ribs, forcing all the wind out of the poor boy's lungs. A second later, the two children crashed to the ground, Longbottom landing heavily on top of Harry.
Madam Hooch ran over, followed by a gaggle of children who watched with horrified fascination.
Carefully rolling a crying Longbottom off of Harry, she clicked her tongue soothingly at the sight of his obviously broken wrist. Turning her attention to Harry, she paled when he gingerly pushed himself into a kneeling position. His collarbone was broken and sticking out of the skin, blood from the wound staining his shirt and jumper and causing them to plaster themselves to his side. The veins up the side of his neck bulged as he tried to breath, only to cough wetly and clutch his side. Taking in the growing blue tinge to his lips and skin, Hooch was quick to cast a stabilising spell at him, and conjure a stretcher. Gently manoeuvring the suffocating boy onto his back and adding a sticking charm, she levitated the stretcher, and ushered Longbottom along next to it.
"Remain here. I will return shortly, and you had better still all be on the ground when I do! If I catch any of you flying before I get back, you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say Quidditch!" Stalking off, she hurried Harry and Longbottom the short distance to the Hospital Wing.
The remaining children hovered restlessly, unsure of what to do. Draco, Zabini, and the rest of the group Harry was cultivating drew together nervously.
"Do you think he's ok?" Thomas asked quietly.
Draco shrugged helplessly.
"It looked like something was wrong with his ribs, and he couldn't breathe properly," Hermione hugged herself, nibbling on her lip.
The boys looked at her, then exchanged glances. Thomas sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side where she burrowed, shuddering with repressed sobs. Rubbing her arm and shushing her gently, he comforted her the same way he did his little sisters. He shrugged, unconcerned at the raised eyebrows the others gave him.
"Oi, look what the fat squib dropped," crowed Weasley's obnoxious voice from behind them.
Turning, they saw the redhead holding up the ball that Longbottom had received at breakfast.
Hermione bristled, stepping away from Thomas.
"That's Neville's Remembrall! Give it back!"
Weasley laughed, tossing the ball up and down lightly.
"Don't worry, Granger! The butterball's probably forgotten he owns it!"
The other first year Gryffindor, Seamus Finnigan, joined Weasley's laughter, ignoring the looks the other houses were shooting them.
The redhead smirked, throwing the ball one more time and snatching it out of the air.
"What do you say I give him a reason to practice flying?" Jumping onto his broom, he kicked off the ground and headed towards the tallest tower, on the other side of the courtyard.
Draco snarled, and grabbed his own broom, furious that the sixth child of a peasant would dare steal from and insult a future lord. That Harry had ordered him to look after the people he was cultivating merely reinforced his need to publicly defend Longbottom.
"Give it back, Weasley!" He shouted, flying after the now scowling redhead with enviable grace.
A flicker of movement on the ground caught his attention, but he focused on his task, ignoring it for the moment.
Weasley turned red with anger, gritting his teeth.
"If you want it so much," he cried, "go get it!"
With that, he hurled the ball as far as he could toward the wall, and dipped the nose of the broom to return to the ground.
Draco growled, and shot off after the ball, weaving easily around Weasley as he tried to get in the way. Pushing the broom harder, he ignored the whining of the straining charms and stretched out a hand, fingers curling around the Remembrall firmly.
Turning smoothly, toes mere inches from the stone wall, he swooped down to the ground, dismounting and striding towards his classmates as if he hadn't just declared to all and sundry that Longbottom was under the protection of Malfoy.
A quick glance showed that all eyes were on him, and all of the more politically aware children were assessing the new information and closely watching what he would do next. Approaching Granger, he calmly held out the ball to her.
"Hermione, would you please give this back to Neville when he gets out of the Hospital Wing?"
Granger blinked, and glanced around at the avidly watching students. Recognising that there was something going on that she didn't fully understand, she did her best to follow the blonde's lead.
"Of course, Draco. Thanks for retrieving it for him."
Taking it, she carefully placed it in her pocket, and looked to the boy for her next cue.
"It was the least I could do," he smiled, and glanced at Zabini.
The Italian stepped forward, gaining her attention and beginning a discussion on tips and tricks for flying, something that Hermione eagerly engaged in, offering up the little facts and recommendations she'd memorized from one book or another.
"Mr Malfoy!" Madam Hooch called sternly, marching towards the group, Snape following behind like an omen of ill fortune. "What is the meaning of this?"
Draco drew himself up, squaring his shoulders.
"When Neville fell, he dropped his Remembrall. Weasley stole it, and was intending to put it up somewhere that Neville wouldn't be able to reach it, given his fear of flying. When I demanded that he return it, he threw it at the wall. Had it impacted, the ball would have smashed. Given that Neville is a friend and ally, I felt it necessary to try to protect his property." Clenching his jaw for a moment, he took a deep breath. "I accept whatever punishment you deem necessary for flying when you'd said not to."
Madam Hooch eyed the boy sharply, thinking. A glance out of the corner of her eye to Snape showed that he was having thoughts along the same line as herself.
"Very well, Mr Malfoy. While this was a foolish stunt that could have ended up with you severely injured, or worse, it's commendable that you were willing to defend a fellow student. As such, I will take ten points from Slytherin for disobeying a teacher and risking your safety, and you will have detention tomorrow night with Professor Snape. I defer to him in regards to any additional punishment he thinks suitable. I will, however, award five points for defending another student, especially one in another house." Turning a glare onto the lanky redhead who was trying to look innocent even as he smirked at Malfoy, she barked out, "Weasley! Don't think you've gotten away with your actions today! Five points from Gryffindor for disobeying a teacher, and another five for stealing and attempting to destroy another students property! You will be doing detention with Mr Filch every night for the next week, and a letter will be sent to your parents about your actions today!"
Turning to the broom that Harry had used to attempt Neville's rescue, she picked it up and examined it closely, flicking her wand over it in a series of identifying and diagnostic spells.
"Professor Snape, will you confirm my findings on this broom, and second my official investigation?" She requested formally.
The dark clad man nodded and stepped forward, casting his own spells over the aged wood.
"Catastrophic failure of the flight and safety charms due to age," he announced quietly.
Hooch huffed angrily, and turned to the class.
"Class dismissed until further notice."
Gathering up the other brooms, she lay them out, tagging each with a number and proceeded to cast the detection spells over each, recording the results on a piece of parchment she had pulled from one of her pockets. Snape began from the other end of the row, scribbling his results on his own piece of parchment.
Draco gathered his group with a glance, nodding when Hermione requested they go to the Hospital Wing to check on Harry.
Their progress was halted when Weasley stepped in front of them, smirking when the rest of the first years stopped to watch the brewing altercation.
"That was very loyal of you, Malfoy; maybe you should have been a Hufflepuff!"
Rolling his eyes, the blonde examined his fingernails in a bored manner.
"That was very witty of you, Weasley; did you pay someone to write it for you? Whose kidney did you sell to get the money?"
Shocked gasps and titters of amusement rippled through the watching students. Ignoring the ever reddening Weasley boy, Draco stepped around him and led his group towards the Hospital Wing, and their leader ensconced within.