Chapter Two:
In Which We Meet Harry's Babysitter
"If I were to try to read, much less answer, all the attacks made on me, this shop might as well be closed for any other business. I do the very best I know how -- the very best I can. And I mean to keep on doing it to the end. If the end brings me out all right, what is said against me will not amount to anything. If the end brings me out all wrong, ten angels swearing I was
right would make no difference." - Abraham Lincoln
"As you already know, the use of magic to kill another is strictly forbidden. You are already under the Doom of Damocles, and as such, no further warning is needed or necessary. The sentence for breaking the First Law, is death. To be carried out immediately."
Have you ever been accosted by a grim-looking man in your own home? That in itself is enough to scare the shit out of anyone. Add to that image the man holding a naked blade about ten miles long and it pressed against your neck? If you have and have not called the police, please seek medical and psychiatric attention. The police really wouldn't do anything about it in this case, but its the thought that counts.
The point I 'm trying to get at is no matter what, being approached like this will put the fear of God into even an atheist. I don't react well to fear and it took my sarcastic comment from before to prevent the string of quasi-Latin from coming out and really screwing me over. Especially in front of guests.
"Morgan, what brings you here today?" We all have ways of fighting off the fear, mine just happens to come with a sharp tongue and quick legs. It was obvious which one I was using right then. Especially since I wasn't quite sure I had the strength to run. "You know as well as I do that the application of the First Law is only to humans. Faeries and other denizens of the Nevernever are not protected under the Law, especially those that try to hurt innocents." As a Warden, Morgan knew this and preached it to the choir. But the fact that I got away with what he considered breaking the Law several years ago, just once and in self-defense, was enough for me to be labeled a bad egg. And for him to find any excuse to use against me. An atom across the line was enough, and it wasn't because he was a bad person, by any means. Morgan believed that the Laws and the punishment for the Laws of Magic should be applied to everyone, no matter what the circumstances. Archaic, yes, but so was the rest of the Council, with a few exceptions.
Morgan himself was an exceptional wizard. You had to be to become a Warden, especially the one that deal with the Chicagoland area. He had been at this longer then I had probably been alive, evident by both his demeanor and the scars he had. They weren't obvious or even physical scars, rather emotional ones that showed when he got involved with social engagements or interactions.
Age is a primary factor in the strength of magic. While I may have had more raw power then most wizards my age, that did not matter as the experience and skills that came with the practice superseded my raw power. And I was more a magical thug in the first place, busting doors in with a burst of air or using my magic to force something to go my way in a fight. I was getting better then just mere thuggery, but still I knew Morgan to be especially skilled in a fight, and with the blade that still rested against my neck no less. But I had seen him perform some magical feats that would have taken more concentration from me than I had, performing them in a blink of an eye.
And he probably did not have a shade of magical ability compared to some of the people on the White Council.
The White Council were the most powerful and arrogant wizards on the planet. They presided over all of us, determining whether or not our actions were considered good or evil. Once a wizard is considered evil, it is improbable for the Council to change its mind and allow for some type of redemption. Not impossible however, as I am living proof that one can stand up to the Council and live to tell the tale.
"Besides, we wouldn't want to make a bad impression upon the newbie." The woman stiffened at being recognized in the conversation. She was already uncomfortable with everything that was going on, and for me to draw her into the situation did not do me any favors.
"Miss Granger." I looked over from my position with the sword still at my throat. "My name is Hermione Granger. And I have been assigned by the Council to watch over you." At this the balance between my throat and the blade fell as Morgan quickly sheathed the sword. My aching body faltered a bit but I managed to lift myself up and off the ground.
"A letter would have sufficed," I muttered. I did not need this; what I needed were the potions in my backroom. "And watch over me, what am I eleven?"
"I apologize for our misjudgment, Mr. Potter," Hermione said, looking between me and Morgan rather quickly. I picked up at she was an underling, following the orders from on high. If anything, that really only made it worse for her in my book. It was likely that she was following the orders blindly, without thought to the consequences in the real world. "However, the Council believes it to be in the best interest of all parties that you were to be monitored on a regular basis."
"What has the Council defined this as then? A friendly visit?" I motioned toward Morgan with my good hand. The throbbing pain had settled back into a dull ache, but from experience this was only a momentary state. I really did need those potions. "Because I'm sure that Chicago PD would see it as breaking and entering."
"We meant you no harm," Hermione taking a step closer. The glare I tossed her when she spoke to me like a idiot made her take a step back. I held back the comment about assault with a deadly weapon, only because I was pretty sure that Morgan could definitely make my death look like an accident, with little to no effort put into it.
"I really don't care if you meant me any harm or loads of it." I limped toward a rather tattered chair that I got a swap meet several years back. Hermione stood in my way, but took a step to the side as I approached. Morgan still stood fuming off to the side as I sat my battered body down. "Morgan, you going to tell me what this is really about? Or is she going to be beating around the bush all night?"
"The Council has assigned Miss Granger to watch over your day-to-day operations." We glared at each other for a moment before I glanced away. Hermione shifted in position, trying to not give away her uncomfortable feeling. Her nervousness was getting to me, making me more anxious in the process. Not a good sign when it came to dealing in magic. "She will be reporting to us any questionable activities that you do."
"That it?" Morgan stared at me, a surprised look on his face. I didn't blame him as there were about thirty lines about babysitters running through my head that I should have let loose. But I was just too damn tired to even care at the moment. I'd be pissed in the morning. "I'd like you to leave then, I've had a bit of a rough night, though I'm sure you're already aware of that." Hermione finally seemed to look at me, shock now covering her face as she saw the visible bruises and my arm cradled to my chest.
"Oh," she let out before rushing over to my side. Both of us just stared at her, Morgan with a bit of contempt in his eyes, but my with a little bit of shock and gratitude. "Why aren't you in a hospital?" She gingerly touched my arm, before I pulled it back with a hiss of pain. "Sorry." she blushed lightly before taken it gently in her hand again. "This is broken."
"I kinda figured that when I fell on it," I muttered. She looked up at me, alarmed for a moment before nodding. "I've got a few potions, this really isn't necessary." She had taken out of her focus, a wand, and begun to prod my arm with it. There were short jolts of energy released each time the wand tip touched my flesh. She stopped after a moment though, and while my arm still hurt like hell, it no long felt like I was in the ninth circle of Hell. Maybe the fourth or fifth, but not the ninth. I know the difference, oddly enough.
"Granger, we're leaving." Morgan barked at her, and she jumped back a good foot away from me. A blush crept across her face as she stood. I managed a smile though for her, which got me a timid one in return.
"Its not much, I just numbed it a bit. But it'll help tomorrow when the potions finish," she mumbled as she rushed over to Morgan. I almost felt sorry for her, because Morgan was an asshole at times, a good guy, but still a major asshole.
But she choose that line of work. She worked for the White Council, and part of me was unsympathetic to her plight. She made her choice, and apparently, I was going to have to live with it.
They left without another word, but Hermione tried to give me a smile as she left. I returned it as best I could as Morgan pulled her through the door before she probably even saw it. It may not be too bad having her 'babysit' me. Still, that was not a pressing matter.
Lifting my battered body up off the chair was not an easier feat. It took me a few tries to get up without the use of my less battered but still broken hand.
"Back so soon?" The musical voice of my backup hard drive filled the room. I held back a smile as I entered my 'dungeon'.
I call it my dungeon because it is has no windows and really is just a room filled with all of my alchemy and warding materials. Plus anything else I can manage to afford. It really was the subbasement of the the apartment complex I lived in. I lived in the drafty basement, which was cheap and how I liked it.
"Found the girl," I tossed my tattered terrycloth robe over my shoulders, my arm still resting against my chest. I shuffled my way toward the shelves that lined the far wall.
Most people don't quite realize why wizards wear robes. It certainly isn't a fashion statement but given the problem that most wizards have around any form of technology, a central heating system is often out of the question in a wizard's home. Technology and magic really don't see eye to eye. Well, they don't for most wizards but I'm working on that.
Back to my point. Magic will cause any technological device beyond the very basic systems to fry. This includes but is not limited to computers, televisions, lamps, anything that held a great deal of circuitry.
A hundred years ago, not a problem for wizards. Now, catastrophe for us. Still, you learn how to deal with it. Buying heavier clothes for winter is one way, and especially a nice heavy robe for your potions lab.
"Do we still have enough of the healing draughts and salves?" I asked. Two golden globes blinked out of a skull on the shelf above my desk.
Hedwig was my backup computer, and until only very recently, my only computer. An elemental of intelligence, she had been bound by another wizard several hundred years ago, and eventually fell into the hands of my late mentor, Riddle. I had managed to get her out of the place before it burnt to the ground and since then we had been partners in law.
She knows more potion recipes and the modifications of them for specific wizards then a human could possible know. Add to that the fountain of information she had gained over the last four hundred years she had been bound, not to mention the thousand she wasn't bound.
Alchemy is a tricky subject at best, and it is necessary for potions often to modified for the specific wizard making the potion. This is simply because magic is a personal energy, and because of that personal nature, each wizard will imbue different ingredient with different amounts of energy.
A sigh echoed through the room as Hedwig popped up out of her skull. Her orange glow floated around me as if she was examining me. "You really need to stop blazing in there without a plan."
"I had a plan, it just failed upon meeting the enemy," I muttered. Hedwig floated back over to her skull as I moved toward the cabinet where I managed to keep a few spare potions, mainly healing ones to mend my cuts and bruises that seemed to be accumulating over the last few weeks.
This is where I both love and despise magic, in healing. While the cuts and bruises, even some broken bones can be managed with the appropriate spell or potion, anything beyond that, anything too complex would require the use of normal methods. Burns for example. Magic can not heal burns and even with broken bones they have to be set, which is a bitch.
"Do they need to be set?" I asked. If that was the case, a doctor would be better for me, however, I'm not sure my bank account could stand up to that.
"No, but you're not going to be able to replace the potions until you get paid. Again." I usually was a bit more careful, but when it came to children, I lose my head sometimes.
"They will back down eventually," I muttered. It may take longer then I'd like, however, but I would be paid. I just hoped that the mother did not try to stonewall me like the last few.
I hate dealing with lawyers.
I swallowed the vile liquid meant to heal my wrist. It wasn't broken anymore, thanks to Granger, and the couple minutes it took for the bone to completely mend was enough for me to know that I had gotten luck without it getting an x-ray. That really was a moot point since I probably would have fried the machine, however, the only pain left was the ache of the muscles, which was not something I could fix.
"So," I sat heavily on a chair by my desk, looking toward Hedwig. "Guess who I got a visit from."
"Morgan." I nodded as I felt my body finally relax after a rather long and unnecessary day. "I take it went as wonderful as it sounded."
"Better, I've got a babysitter now." Hedwig had to have been interested in this because her eyes nearly flared out of the skull. She was bound to it, and although I would have preferred. and she agreed with me, something a little more tasteful, we both had gotten used to it.
"Oh, gossip," the golden eyes danced within the skull. "Tell me, tell me." I let out another sigh. It was morning, nearly seven if the mechanical clock on the wall was right. All I wanted to do was sleep a little bit, maybe even round up something to eat.
"I don't know much about her."
"Ooh, her," a giggle filled the air. "You lucky dog." Yes, Hedwig was a bit of a pervert. In fact, she was the cause of a rave on the U of I Chicago campus several years back. That is part of the reason why I don't let her out too much. "What will Susan think?"
Susan is my on-again, off-again girlfriend, who works for the The Arcane. The paper was a tabloid at best, and rarely promoted anything that was true. Susan, however, had a knack for finding stories that were not only true, but about me as well. That lead to us meeting on more than one occasion, with her sometimes going out of her way to get my opinion about things that really did not have anything to do with magic. But hey, it was the normal folks' prerogative to be confused by magic, let alone be afraid of it. I managed to break Susan of the habit of attributing everything weird to magic, but there were still times when she tried.
"Right now, all I can think about is how wonderful the insides of my eyes look." I leaned back in the chair, my aching body screaming for rest.
"Not so fast, I still want to know what happened out there," Hedwig's voice stilled a bit. She was demanding, but that probably came for working for Riddle for so long.
"Ran into a troll, blew it up." I sat up, and pushed myself up out of the chair. My knees nearly popped as I tried to stand up straight. "Same old, same old."
Hedwig rolled her eyes before staring at me. "You know that isn't going to cut it."
"Well, I figured you weren't that interested in this part of the story." I smirked as the eyes dances once more. "Long story short, the kid ran away because the mother doesn't love her enough. I protected her and gave her something to believe in."
"That would explain the missing ring from your finger." Ever the observant servant. "That will do, for now. Tell me what the hustle and bustle upstairs was all about."
"Morgan got in his head that I broke the 1st Law, and came to carry out the order." I flexed my hand a couple times, ache now at least settling into a dull burn. "Lucky me, I talked him out of it."
"Lucky you." Hedwig rolled her eyes again. "Seriously, though, why do you have a Warden permanently assigned to you."
"I don't know, I wish I did, because then at least I wouldn't feel on edge." I sighed. "I don't think she's really a Warden either. Maybe a Junior one?" I chuckled at this before looking at Hedwig. "You need another novel?" I had managed to get several cheesy romance novels at a swap meet a month ago, in exchange for the ones that Hedwig had already worked through.
"Not yet, Charles has just come back from the front, and he lifted the sweet, not-so-innocent Jasmine into his arms, and about ready to-"
"Stop." I didn't need to be reminded about how bad my romantic life was at the moment. I hadn't seen Susan in nearly a month and that while we weren't that serious, I felt that it was becoming that over the course of our relationship. "I'm going to crash."
"Sweet dreams." Hedwig's voice followed me as I climbed up the stairs. I headed up to my bed, and promptly collapsed.
This actually was an easy day for me. My luck is never that good.
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