Meetings

"That's ridiculous," I shouted as I threw the current releases of The Circadian Inquisitor and The Daily Prophet across the room. Around the wooden cabin, papers from both newspapers were strewn across the floor.

The Circadian Inquisitor was the American version of the Daily Prophet. Today, they had one thing in common, they were both full of dragon piss and pixie shit.

As I scanned through the papers for the last week and a half, I could see the fingerprints of Declan Whithorn's puppet mastery.

I have to admit, Declan was a master manipulator. While my family had been desperately searching for me, he had gone on the offensive. After the initial shock of a competitor disappearing under the nose of the United Dueling League, Declan flooded the papers with so many fake stories and rumors that no one knew what to believe.

Three days later, when it was announced that I had been found alive, but near death, the public was incensed, and a call for an official investigation was underway. It was then Declan made his ultimate move, investigators called in from the Magical Congress of the United States announced that they had discovered the culprit.

They claimed that an aging house named Zabkey was responsible for displacing a portkey. With all the portkeys that were being utilized for the competition, it wasn't a stretch for the public to imagine one being mishandled.

The U.D.L. received a very public black eye when it was discovered that the elf in question served the U.D.L. The Silver Spears were outraged and claimed that the elf must have been acting on orders by targeting one of their members.

Wanting to put this behind them, the U.D.L quietly turned Zabkey over to investigators. Within days, the papers published that after an extensive investigation, it was apparent that Zabkey's advanced age was what led to him being confused and accidentally misplacing the portkey.

They even produced the records of the portkeys creation, which I knew had to be fake. All that was left was to punish Zabkey. Typically, if an elf were to bring harm to a witch or wizard, the punishment could be anything from being given clothes to execution.

But, with Zabkey's advanced age and memory problems, the U.D.L. "generously" allowed the elf to "retire." The retirement of elves is not widely practiced, but it's not unheard of either.

The idea behind retirement is when an elf becomes too old or feeble to serve and becomes a burden on their masters. A potion is created and given to the elf, which will put them into an endless sleep until they die.

The choice to consume the potion is entirely up to the elf. The vast majority of elves will choose to drink the potion rather than being a burden on their masters. Some argue that the method is barbaric. But, more than one elf has severely hurt themselves and crawled into a hidden space to die when they are no longer capable of serving their masters.

Personally, I found the method distasteful, but house-elves were a strange lot. The very idea of freedom, or not being useful was enough to send them into a panic attack.

While I was fuming over the retirement of Zabkey, Uncle John put his hand on my shoulder, "It's not all bad. I was able to identify two of Ember's operatives in the Magical Congress of the United States as well as a few others under her thumb."

I was still a little disheartened about how easily Whithorn was able to manipulate the public and couldn't muster much interest. "Who?" I muttered.

Uncle John laid a photograph on the table in front of me and explained, "Ember Whithorn is Delcan's daughter. She is everything that Delvin is not; she is strong, smart, and above all else, ruthless."

I picked up the photograph as the blue-eyed witch inside coldly looked at me like I was a bug and was debating on whether I was worthy of being stepped on. Part of me had been expecting her to look like Bellatrix Lestrange with crazy lidded eyes and strung-out hair. But instead, I saw a middle-aged witch with her dark hair pulled back and dressed professionally. She reminded me of some of the prominent witches my grandmother introduced me to at various functions.

"She is one of six lieutenants that report to Declan, she runs operations in North America and has built an efficient operation. It was her people that ran the investigation," Uncle John explained.

"I was wondering how the investigators came up with that story. It makes more sense now that I know that they work for the syndicate," I replied bitterly.

Uncle John put his hand on my shoulder, "I know you're disappointed with how everything turned out, but have patience. One day, the Whithorns will get what they deserve."

I waved my arms in frustration and vented, "What pisses me off more than anything is how easily they got away with it."

Uncle John sighed, "Most people tend to believe trusted sources or authorities. Sure, there will be some who don't, but they will be in the minority."

I grunted in dissatisfaction, what a bunch of sheep. For the first time, I felt like I understood why Harry was bewildered and frustrated on how easily the Daily Prophet turned so many against him.

Once we got home, I still couldn't shake my annoyance. I knew that Declan's syndicate was connected, but knowing and seeing are two completely different things.

It's no wonder Declan can operate in the dark, he either owns or pays off everyone. I wouldn't be surprised if he owns a piece of the newspapers. It will take a lot to take him down, but I don't know if we can take his organization down. When something that efficiently gets built, even if the head is decapitated. Someone else will move in to take his place.

In the end, I pushed my worries to the back of my mind. Right now, there wasn't anything I could do to the syndicate. One day, when I am older and have come into my power, I will turn my attention back to them.

xxx

After a few relaxing days at home, it was time for me to go back to school. Getting back was rather easy. Rather than taking a six-hour train ride, all I did was use the floo network to travel to Hogsmeade, the town outside of Hogwarts.

When I approached the iron gates to Hogwarts, I saw the shortest Professor at school waiting for me. When Professor Flitwick saw me, he jumped up and waved one arm in the air, like he was afraid I would not see him.

"Mr. Fawley," he squeaked. "It's good to see you looking well. I was worried that you might not make it back this year."

I smiled faintly before replying, "And risk losing the top ranking in Ravenclaw. I don't think so."

A high pitched laugh escaped Professor Flitwick, "Well, now that you're back, I think you're safe from losing the top spot."

As I started following Professor Flitwick through the castle, Athena trailed behind me, a little disgruntled that she no longer fit on my shoulder. As we made our way through the castle, I soon realized that we weren't going to the Ravenclaw tower.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"The Headmaster would like to see you." Professor Flitwick explained.

My eyes narrowed suspiciously upon hearing that, what did Professor Dumbledore want? Did he want to listen to a first-hand account of what happened?

Either way, I had a choice to make, to use my Occlumency or not. Professor Snape had probably told him that I had mastered the occlumency shield. I had gotten to the point where I could keep my occlumency shields up for the entire day. So if he encountered my shield, he shouldn't be too surprised.

I could always rely on my ability to craft fake memories to fool him, but I didn't know if I wanted to take that step. There was a difference between keeping someone out of my mind or deliberately misleading them with fake memories. It felt like lying, and even though I could get away with it, it felt like I would be drawing a line between me and Dumbledore.

As we approached the gargoyle on the third floor that blocked the entrance to the Headmaster's office, I decided to keep my shields up. While Professor Dumbledore hasn't ever done anything to me, that didn't mean I was ok with him ruffling through my memories.

"Toffee Eclairs," Professor Flitwick said.

A rumbling sound came from the gargoyle as he spun to the side, revealing a staircase.

"Up you go," Professor Flitwick urged.

After going up the stairs, I knocked on the door to the Headmaster's office. "Enter," a brisk voice called out.

Opening the office, I noticed more details than the last time I was here. I had been in trouble because of my excursions into the forest and didn't pay much attention to the office. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses. There was also a large, claw-footed desk, and the sorting hat rested on a shelf behind it. I even caught sight of a sword resting in what I would swear was an umbrella holder. I quickly reassured myself that there was no way that Professor Dumbledore kept the sword of Gryffindor in such a weird place.

My eyes focused on one of the most powerful wizards in existence. Professor Dumbledore was lovingly tending to his pet phoenix, Fawkes, whose red and gold feathers were looking a bit aged. In a couple of years, Fawkes would die and be reborn in his ashes.

Fawkes and Athena seemed to stare at one another for a moment, both magical creatures taking each other measure. Soon the moment passed, and they seemed to ignore each other's presence.

Professor Dumbledore glanced up at me before saying, "Please take a seat, Mr. Fawley."

"Please call me, Alex. Whenever someone calls me Mr. Fawley, I think they're talking to my Dad," I replied.

Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in delight.

As I sat down, he deposited Fawkes to his perch before turning back to me, and blandly said, "Well, Alex, you had quite an adventure over the spring break."

I snorted, "I don't know if adventure is quite the right word. Mostly I just laid in pain on a cot and tried not to die. Cedric did all the hard work."

Professor Dumbledore's blue eyes darkened, and a chill seemed to emanate from him. "Yes, I spoke with Cedric about your experiences. I'm not happy with the U.D.L. allowing harm to come to my students."

As quickly as the chill arrived, it vanished when Professor Dumbledore's eyes gently relaxed. "If you ever need to discuss anything about what happened, I want you to know my door is always open."

As we continued speaking, I kept expecting to feel a mental probe from Professor Dumbledore, but it never came. I didn't know if it was because he had already gotten all the info he needed from Cedric, or because he knew I had occlumency shields.

One thing I gleaned from our conversation was that Professor Dumbledore hinted that he knew there was more to what happened and wasn't buying what the papers were selling.

I couldn't tell if he knew who was responsible, but on my way out of the office, he absently commented, "I'm glad that at least one student that missed the train returned."

A little confused, I asked, "Who else missed the train?"

Professor Dumbledore looked me in the eye and replied in a serious tone, "Michael Whithorn's family has chosen to withdraw him from Hogwarts and finish his schooling elsewhere."

I nearly dropped my occlumency shields in shock. I hadn't been expecting that. What did that mean? One thing I picked up on was Professor Dumbledore's slight inflection when he said the word family. Was he implying that it wasn't Delvin but Declan who made the call? Did he even know who Declan was? Ah, so annoyingly vague.

I was so lost in thought that when I made it back to the Ravenclaw tower, I realized I didn't remember walking through the school.

Once inside the tower, I was nearly tackled to the ground by raven-haired blur.

"Alex!" Jessica cried out while wrapping me in a bear hug.

"It's good to see you too, Jessica," I replied with a wry grin.

A few of the other Ravenclaw students snickered, and Jessica pulled away red-faced.

"I read about what happened. It's absolutely horrible what that elf did." She furiously remarked. "I'm glad that they retired him."

I gave a wan smile and chose not to correct her. Jessica didn't know anything about the Whithorn syndicate, and I wasn't sure if I should tell her or not.

"Are you still injured?" Jessica worriedly asked, "The papers said you were nearly killed. So when you didn't return on the train, I feared the worst."

I shook my head and explained, "I woke up a few days ago completely healed. Mum and Dad wanted me to rest for a few days at home before returning to school."

As we continued to catch up, Athena purred in delight as she rested on Jessica's lap. At this point, it was apparent that she wasn't a typical cat since she was double the size of one. I was curious as to how big she was going to get, maybe Hagrid could tell me.

Before I knew it, Jessica was yawning, and I noticed that the common room was deserted. Calling it a night, Jessica wandered back into the girl's dormitory.

Once I was finally alone, my eyes turned to the secret door that had been teasing me with its presence all night. As I approached the door, butterflies welled up within me. I took a deep breath to settle myself. I could do this. Everything I went through this year had prepared me for this moment.

With a quick turn of the doorknob, I descended within the depths of the Ravenclaw tower. It was time to prove my worth and become a true Heir of Ravenclaw.

xxxx

John's POV

In an old dank alley, a tall dark-haired man wearing a black leather duster appeared out of thin air. John glanced around making sure there were no witnesses before quickly walking away heading towards a small park that rarely received visitors.

He paused and carefully looked around when he caught sight of the man he was meeting, it wasn't the first time they had met alone, but when dealing with this person one could never be too careful.

As John approached the agreed upon meeting place, he sized up Declan Whithorn. He was sitting on a park bench as if he didn't have a care in the world. If a passerby saw him they would think he was an old man enjoying the sunset, well at least until they caught a glimpse of his cold eyes.

John wordlessly took a seat on the far side of the bench, the two sat in silence each wanting the other to make the first move.

Finally, Declan huffed in annoyance, and remarked, "I heard your nephew is going to be just fine."

John scoffed, "Barely, he nearly died due to the actions of your family."

Declan held up a hand, "I had nothing to do with that."

"I know, that's why I was willing to meet and see what you were willing to offer before I decided how to respond to your son's actions." John replied.

Declan glared at John, "We both know your bluffing, my forces are stronger than yours and you know it."

John gave a mad grin, "Maybe, but we both know the cost to you would be crippling."

Tension filled the air as the two glared at one another. Finally, Declan sighed and said, " Fine, I agree, this requires restitution. Name your price, as long as it's reasonable, we can work something out."

After thinking about it for a moment, John said, "I want you to lift your hand of protection off of Delvin."

Declan snorted, "My son may be an idiot, but I'm not going to let you kill him."

"His life doesn't concern me. What I want is for you to let him stand on his own two feet concerning his business, no propping him up or bailing him out.

Declan closed his eyes for a moment then grunted, "Ah, I see what you have in mind. Fine, but I have a condition of my own. You can't be involved at all. If your brother wants to try and take on Delvin, that's fine, but if you meddle, all bets are off."

John thought about it for a moment, "Agreed."

Done talking, John got up and walked away. On his way out of the park, Declan called out, "You know John. If you join my little group, we could accomplish great things."

John paused for a moment, then left without a word.