Message from Your Nanny

Marcus hadn't been back to England for some time, but Stelladora had talked him into taking a leave of absense from his post in Bulgaria to come home. Marcus usually didn't do much of anything he didn't want to do, so Stelladora had had to talk him into wanting to come home.

He took a suite at a small luxury boutique hotel for muggles in the heart of London and then planned to make his way early in the morning to the Ministry. Unless the boy had grown up, Marcus didn't expect him to be on time to work, and surely the boy didn't know how to be early. Nevertheless, Marcus was punctual. Always. Well, when other things didn't incommode that.

He had had breakfast in his suite and found the tea to be to his high standards. That said something for them, anyway. And he enjoyed watching muggle television. Sometimes wizards just didn't know what they were missing by being old sticks in the mud.

He had dressed impeccably in a grey suit, drew the old green bloodstone ring out of his bag, and slipped it on his right hand. He hadn't worn it in years. Hadn't wanted to wear it, particularly, but he'd done it because she said it would validate his claim to be who he said he was. She hadn't thought to mention this part of her life before and was now dropping Marcus in on the boy without any warning whatsover. Figured. Almost twenty years, and here she'd come again, digging him up, asking for favors and dredging up old memories and feelings and begging on his skills--for old times' sake. He groaned audibly now at himself for being fool enough to fall for her yet again. He was frustrated with her and with himself. But here he was, back on English soil and heading off to see the lad who had been not far out of diapers the last Marcus remembered of seeing him. Had it been Vikor or the old dead witch that had biologically parented the lad, if one could ever call it that, Marcus would have said something crude to them, but this was about the boy. And that was different.

He walked to the Ministry, took the phone booth to the atrium, and was pleased to find that more wizards had abandoned wearing robes than when he'd been here last. There were more suits than robes. Nice. Very nice. At least that wasn't still archaic. From there he went up upstairs.

He went up to the minister's suite of offices and found a lovely but somewhat ditzy young receptionist there. He wasn't offended by her. In fact, there was something oddly endearing about her flighty personality.

"I'm here to see Elijah Krum," Marcus told her. "Tell him Stelladora sent me."

By day, Elijah Krum masqueraded as Deputy Minister for Magic, just generally roaming around reading and signing things while enjoying a good amount of banter with the sassy little witches in the Department of Magical Sport that were hell bent on making him play for the Magpies. By night, however, he was busily trying to fix up the manor in Scotland so that it was ready for Mira at the drop of the hat. He wanted to surprise her so he’d charmed the house to have two facades and when he desired, he could switch it and surprise her and there on the spot they could marry.

Somewhere, the two Elijah’s had mixed and people and House Elves were turning up asking him all manner of things so it was not uncommon for the man now to cancel all of his appointments and go out for lunch somewhere with one of the Rookwoods – or even Millie and Trent.

That morning, Elijah had found himself chain-smoking already, staring at one of his House Elves that were complaining about a blockage in one of the pipes that fed the confetti – as if Elijah could deal with it right that moment. He’d already seen an elderly woman he’d never met before in his life who had come to shout at him about taxes, a penniless artist that expected Elijah to take pity on him because they were similar – or something – and a cat that spoke Mermish.

So, really, it was no wonder that Elijah was in the state he was in and he was perilously close to opening the Whisky.

When Millie stuck her head ‘round the door, Elijah really wasn’t in the mood for her antics. She shooed the House Elf away and made her way over to his desk, taking one of his cigarettes and even going as far as to lighting the thing in front of him with his lighter. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, reopening them as she took the cigarette from her mouth. Elijah looked at her, his dangling lazily from the corner of his mouth and she smiled at him.

“There’s one Marcus Belby in the foyer for you, mate.” She told him. “Says Stelladora sent him or something.” She shrugged and Elijah blinked at her. Oh, this was the cherry on the cake wasn’t it?

Millie turned around and wandered away, tossing over her shoulder, “I’ll send him in, shall I?”

The girl entered the foyer again and took the cigarette from her mouth. “Elijah’s brooding in his chair. I think it was the Mermish Cat that finished him off this morning. If you’re quick, you might actually stop him from hanging himself from the chandelier. It has been particularly trying today.”

"Oh, lord," Belby sighed at the notion that the younger Krum was brooding this early in the day. That was so much like Viktor had been. Viktor was a champion at brooding. Lord, the world didn't surely need two Viktors. "I did hope he hadn't inherited much of anything of his father. Too bad it was the cat this morning. I rather like Mermish cats." Marcus had to admit he was surprised the young man was even conscious at this hour of the morning, much less having been concious long enough to be beside himself.

He went through to find Krum appearing rather rattled already. He was entirely too young to be in the post he was in. He was hoping the Minister had some reasonable logic in placing him in the job to begin with.

And besides that, the cigarette smoke was rather foul. French, clearly, and the haze of them was not so unlike the mythological never-ceasing pea soup fog that some muggles thought permanently hung over London. Belby shut the door behind him.

"Try the Greek handmade cigarettes. Spicier blend, and they don't fog as much," Marcus said casually, drawing out his antique cigarette case from inside his suitcoat and laying it open on Elijah's desk as an offer to try what Marcus considered a far better smoke. "I'm Marcus Belby, and Stelladora insisted I come and see you. She insists you need my help. Frankly, from the sounds of it, you don't need my help yet, but you will--you and your Minister. Stelladora told me to show you this."

He took off the irregular green bloodstone ring. The ring had been handmade years ago. The left side of the ring had a zigzag in not only the stone but the setting as well. It had been made as a companion ring to the one Stelladora had worn when they had been briefly married.

They had found the green bloodstone at an alchemist's in Paris when they were dating. The bloodstone completely captured their attention because the stone was splitting in two--the leftside third of the stone was separating from the righthand two thirds. They had bought the stone and deliberately had the stone broken and set into companion rings. His had the zigzag on the left, and her's--a smaller mirrored version of Marcus's--had the zigzag on the right. When put together, the two zigzags fit together perfectly, assembling the stone once more.

Stelladora had worn her ring the day she'd dug him up in the Bulgarian ministry offices. Marcus was surprised that not only did she still have it, but she had openly admitted to wearing it whenever she wore green. Their wedding rings had become, for her, an accessory. And why not? Marcus had his stashed in a box in his underwear drawer, along with some other momentos that he never paid any attention to anymore. But Stelladora promised Marcus that Eli would notice, unless he was stone drunk, the ring that was identical to her own.

"She told me you'd at least see the similarity to her ring," Marcus said. "I'm the ex-husband she never told you about--her first. Not that she needed to tell you. At least until now. That's the best validation you get for now. She said she intends to follow with a particularly scathing howler if this goes sideways for her. You do look a bit too old to still be getting a screeching howler from your nanny, though." But they both knew Stelladora was still capable of doing it if she so chose.

Testy was not a word with enough strength to describe the feelings that were afflicting Elijah Krum. He was a man who was very much his own person and he enjoyed the joys of life as opposed to the trials and there were enough trials to be had in his personal life which made his professional life seem something of a farce. He had lost his patience with the ridiculousness that was supposedly politics and in fact took great joy in the treason of what his family and friends were getting up to, finding that providing lazy information about certain areas of the Ministry was far more entertaining than actually travelling to them to find out what was going on. It was certainly not as if he did not enjoy and appreciate his job, he just felt as if somewhere along the line, someone hadn’t stopped taking the mickey.

Testy was a word that Elijah felt was not strong enough to describe the feelings he felt towards people who offered him cigarettes, either. He was his own personal chimney. He had enough. He didn’t need anyone else’s. He didn’t need some supposedly ‘better’ cigarettes. Oh, how he loathed the assumptions. But he did not let his aggravation show; he still knew how to be a gentleman after all, and more importantly a diplomat, but he declined with an easy wave of his hand. Elijah did not deign to speak to the man but merely amused himself with his own cigarettes, the purpose of the visit and the downright arrogance of the man and his hero-complex more than slightly insulting.

But the ring was familiar. Of course it was. He’d spent nearly twenty years of his life looking at it. That didn’t mean, of course, that he wanted to give the man the satisfaction of wonder and ignorance. Elijah spun himself a little in the chair and raised his eyebrows briefly, dismissively, before taking one last draw from the cigarette and stubbing it out in the only recently cleared ash tray. Elijah then reclined back in the chair and regarded the man.

“Well I am afraid Stelladora will have to send it but that doesn’t mean I will read it.” Elijah spoke coolly, ice in his tone. “She overestimates the power her position entails, clearly. I do not believe you were requested formally from a member of the Ministry unless there is something else she has saw fit not to inform me of – so I do not believe you are entirely necessary. I apologise for your wasted journey though Miss Finnigan makes a delightful cup of coffee though she, granted, does not believe in sugar or milk.”

"Oh, you are a surly little bastard this early in the morning, aren't you?" Marcus laughed. He leaned over the desk, picking up his cigarette case, not willing to take a bunch of snot from someone who was little more than an overpowered schoolboy. Marcus had run out of any sort of diplomacy from Krum's first mouthful of arrogance. If Krum wanted to die, what business was it of Marcus's? Much as he cared for Stelladora, Krum deserved to have at it, if he was that self assured. Most of Marcus's private security assignments had been puffed up aristocrats, but that didn't mean that Marcus had to like them any more. And he didn't. Marcus's sarcasm was not liable to fail him, and in fact, it was liable to be quite thick. He knew he could censor himself, but he honestly didn't feel like it. When it came to arrogance, Belby could lay that on equally as thick whether he meant it or not, and when it came to pairing arrogance and sincerity and making it work--that was an odd oxymornic crap shoot.

"Now, listen, Boy," Marcus's words were pointed, each one deliberate. "I am not a diplomat, nor do I pretend to be. So since you feel I am a waste of your time, I won't bother with diplomatic civilities and cut straight to the chase. I do not have to like you, and you do not have to like me. In point of fact, much as I am fond of Stella, I am not overly fond of most of you Krums. Your father is a huge arse, and your mother was even worse, but somehow that apparently didn't keep you from being a self centered little buggar yourself.

"I do not particularly need an invitation from you or your minister to be here. I work for the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic, and international law permits me to be here. You're welcome to check both the law itself and my passport to double check me, but I doubt you have the energy. I am here as a favor to Stelladora. And I don't particularly feel like giving you my resume since you have more skills than anyone else in England, obviously." Marcus knew he could also have produced his identification from the Bulgarian ministry, but it was a waste of time and energy in this office.

"You should understand a couple of things. First, you do have a number of people right here under your nose who would love nothing better than to hoist your head on a pike. Yours and your minister's. And judging by your school transcripts, you probably aren't amongst the top scorers here in auror skills, so you might want to brush up on your Defense Against the Dark Arts if you want to stay alive or keep all your offspring breathing. And, yes, I did do my homework. I did pull your grades and just about everything else in your dossiers--yours, Minister Lupin's, and his daughter's. Its my job. My lovely ex thought you might care a tad bit about whether you and the woman lived, but I'm betting she got the whole thing dead wrong. I'm betting you don't give a flying fig about your boss, and so be it.

"You obviously think I'm an egotistical prick, and I am. You got that much right. I do what I do because I'm good at it. Why else would Stelladora have even bothered with me after all these years? She knows I wouldn't have an ounce of patience with you. And surely she knows you wouldn't be amused either.

"But since you have all the answers, you just go right ahead and have yourself a happy little rebellion, and do try to survive the warm little cell in Azkaban they surely will have planned for you. Because if I were them? That's exactly what I'd do. Unless, of course, they plan to simply move to assasination and get it overwith. But given the skill levels in your file, you might have a bit of a squeeze fighting yourself out of it without help." He turned and headed to the door and then turned back.

"Oh,and two more things? If Miss Finnegan chooses to not add milk and sugar to her coffee, then surely she knows how to make it correctly. That's to her credit. And secondly, when you do find your Defense Against the Dark Arts texts again, you might want to read your basic magic primer as well. Look under 'Howler.' I believe you will that it isn't entirely harmless if you choose not to read it. Do at least spare Miss Finnegan from having to deal with your dangerous paperwork. She doesn't deserve that."

Marcus had a back up plan of his own--one he hadn't shared with Stelladora. She didn't need to know. If Krum could not be trusted, Marcus did owe something to, not only the Ministry he worked for, but also to the one from his homeland.

What was always of dry interest of Elijah was the fact that everyone he encountered seemed to have this need to treat him as though he knew very little of the world around himself and that for some ungodly reason he needed protecting from it. Elijah had never been spoon fed and though many less fortunate wizards would scoff and disagree, his life had not been as simplistic as he would have preferred and as many assumed. Elijah had not been dealt a good hand in the past five or so years and he had done well to keep his feet rooted in what he considered to be rather shaky ground.

Ascending to the role of Deputy Minister had been something he had originally been hesitant about undertaking. In Scotland he was rather content. He lived in the northern reaches on a large estate that cost him a few collections of paintings. He kept countless acres but really only expanded himself within the manor house. The rest of the land he left to the farming folk that had lived there for decades longer than any so called ‘Lord of the Manor’ and Elijah had no intention of treading on anyone’s shoes; he merely left them be. Certainly, he was content in the north and to return south and deal with the nonsense in the Ministry wasn’t something Elijah had wanted.

What he had gotten was the nonsense but for the most part, he tried to spend as much time as possible out of the Ministry. He liked it better like that; but that did not suddenly make him incompetent at his job.

To Elijah, loyalty was essential and what Stelladora had done was impose on him the same feelings of inadequacy that made him detest spending extended amounts of time with Robert Lupin. Elijah cared not for their politics for it did not concern him. The rebellion could do with the Ministry what they wanted – whenever it happened. Elijah would retreat back and let them have their fun. If they came to him they’d have hell to pay but he, like so many other canny Purebloods, intended on making it worth their while if they succeeded and did so without disturbing his holdings.

“And I am the one accused of surliness?” Elijah responded dryly, unmoved by the monologue that did not convince him at all to adhere to what this man thought he could simply walk in and obtain. “The Ministry is weak.” Elijah sat back in his chair and crossed his hands in his lap. “Any fool can see that and you strike me as no fool, Mister Belby. You are foolish in assuming I am doing nothing, though. I have made precautions in the event this little upset proves fatal to the crippled administration.”

Elijah eyed Marcus for a moment before continuing. “The Lupin reign is coming to a rather unseemly end. The lines between sides are blurring rather awfully and through the mire, one has to remember that one’s self is important firstly before others. My precautions are concerning the safety of my family and those dearest to me. I care not for this place. If they succeed they can have it. This is no stronghold. Times have changed. People have changed. Assumptions about anyone are fatal. You cannot make any about me and I certainly not about you.”

For a moment, Elijah envisioned himself decidedly bodiless, his head pressed down onto a pike, the spearhead reaching up through his mouth. His eyebrows quirked upwards and a small smirk formed at his lips before shaking free the thoughts from his mind. He waved his hand, as if it was all circumstantial.

“Don’t we all? However, it just depends on how fast one can run.” Elijah’s eyebrows rose again at the audacity of the man and he felt his irritation flare again though he did manage to stomach it for the sake of the situation. “I don’t believe examinations are a true reflection of magical capability - but believe what you will, it makes no difference to me.” Elijah’s fingers drummed against his knuckles and he looked about idly. “As I said, you are naive to assume my ignorance. I have seen the might of wizards with a mind to reap change and I am not in the business of placating them and restoring power. Call me selfish if you will but I shall look after myself and preserve what I have just as every other person with half a brain is ensuring happens. We are not all going to come out on the other side but not all of us are going to sit back and let it happen.”

Elijah rose. “But you presume I am need of help. Or, rather, Stelladora does. Might I suggest you too look after your own interests? There is no great stability in a country that is fixated with blood the way this one is. It cannot be found here. However, if you must then by all means... amuse yourself.” Elijah smirked. “Quite. Though, I myself prefer tea. You can’t really dunk biscuits in coffee.” Elijah laughed at the last part. “Not if you stun them.” He told Marcus with a smirk. “So what can I do for you then? Or you, me?”

Marcus was done with this twit. Stella-freaking-dora could have this one. If he thought he was all that, then, by God, let him take care of himself.

"It appears that you have it all under control, I believe. Good day," he said, starting to open the door.

Just as he did, the one way windows that allowed the Minster and his department to look down over the atrium, on the inside walls of the Ministry offices flashed a large green light for just an instant. Marcus drew his wand and surrounded himself with a shield. He did briefly consider covering the boy, but the boy had made it clear that he was man enough to deal. Marcus merely covered himself.

An instant later the windows in Elijah's and Minister Lupin's offices shattered with a deafening crash, an explosion spell blasting the windows into smithereens. Marcus's shield held but the blast was loud enough that it felt like his brain was going to rattle in his skull. If Krum had not drawn, he was about to be hurt.

Elijah ducked. Yes, he ducked. Do not mock him, he was afraid. But he ducked. He hit the deck faster than you could say, well, anything really and he covered his head with his arms. The glass exploded over him, showering him with debris but none of it truly enough to cause him much pain.

It was the screams of a woman he knew too well that he heard first.

Elijah opened his eyes and lifted his head up. His hands found the floor and despite the way the glass dug into his palms, he did not pay attention. He drew his wand from his pocket and lifted himself to his feet.

“Millie!” Elijah’s eyes searched for the girl and he rushed out past Marcus, careful to set a shield about himself.

The girl was sat stunned in her chair. She was still breathing, he realised, but she looked like she had been turned into some sort of voodoo doll with glass covering her like a cloak, some of it dug into her skin. Elijah tightened his grip on his wand and thrust a spell from the end, sending his Patronus darting to St. Mungo’s. The groans told him more were injured and his hands found his hair as he realised exactly what had happened.

“Shit.” He whispered, biting down on his lip. He looked towards Marcus, stood serenely behind his shield, and Elijah sighed heavily. “I can’t do this on my own.” He told the man with a strength that did not match his admittance. “But it helps to pretend. Help me with her, will you? She’s in shock.”

Marcus had not wanted the little blond hurt. He was already fond of her. "Move out of the way, then," he told him quietly and calmly. "You might well go check and see if your minister is still breathing. I understand he is a healer. If he is not destroyed, he might be of some use." All Marcus knew about healing were more basic. He went to the woman he'd heard Eli call Millie.

Marcus checked her vital signs. She was conscious, but didn't look that coherient. But that was what shock did. The pieces of glass, he knew, were not to be removed except by experienced hands. He didn't know if the minister kept any pain potion on premises but he hoped someone did.

"Accio!" he summoned it wandlessly. A small glass vial with a little cork flew seemingly out of nowhere into his hand. He removed the cork and smelled the potion to be sure of what it was. "Millie," he called softly to her. "Slowly. A few drops. It will help." He fed her the potion by placing just a couple of drops in her mouth at a time to avoid choking her.

Meanwhile, in St. Mungos, Brian saw the patronus. He left there immediately and went to the ministry. He went upstairs and saw the mess.

"Millie!" he said.

"Are you a healer?" Belby asked.

"Yes," Brian said, going to Millie and starting to work.

The Rebellion appeared to be more intent on success than Elijah had first imagined. Swallowing, the Deputy Minister nodded at Marcus Belby and made his way over the debris towards Robert Lupin’s office. Unsurprisingly, the man had survived relatively unscathed but bound to be shaken – how could you not be?

“Robert, come on. We need to get out of here unless they come back.” Elijah murmured, taking Robert’s upper arm. “Is Khaat here or at St. Mungo’s?” Elijah asked, worried for her safety. With a careful hand, Elijah began to lead Robert out of his office, careful to give the man a lot of leg room in case he wanted to take the helm with any amount of speed. “Mostly, I think people on this level are alright. It’s just Millie...she’s pretty beat up.”

Said secretary was looking at Marcus Belby with sheepish eyes, her body frozen in place out of self-preservation and arresting fear. She swallowed as she felt tears prick in her eyes and she opened her mouth as best she could to take the medicine that Marcus supplied. But when Brian arrived, Millie felt infinitely better, knowing that the Healer would be able to at least make her more comfortable – at a minimum.

“I...” Millie blinked rapidly and shifted a little, closing her eyes as the glass dug more forcefully into her. “Sorry.” She wheezed. “Didn’t see him..”