Shooting for All the Marbles

Robert had left his hiding place for another--Michael's Hogsmeade cottage. The sun had set, and the stars seemed brighter than usual, as though they lit up Michael's meticulously landscaped cottage garden. Michael had decided to cook, and was grilling steaks and vegetables.

"Pour the bourbon, would you?" Michael asked him.

"Already done," Robert said, setting a glass beside Michael and then taking a seat and picking up the Prophet. He looked at the headlines. Gideon Pierce? A Ministry attorney taking the Deputy post? He narrowed his eyes. "I wonder...," Robert hissed angrily.

"What?" Michael asked.

"We have a new prime suspect," Robert said. "I think its time we met with Fred and Jack."

"What? Tonight?"

"Yes. Can you get them here?"

"I can try," Michael said. "We need to do this now?"

"I'm well enough hidden here, aren't I? Isn't that why we're here? Or can't you do it?"

"Oh, I can do it," Michael said. "Watch the steaks for a minute." He went into the cottage, into his study and drew a jar off one of the shelves. He opened it and selected a large clear, sapphire blue marble. This would do. It took him a bit to cast the right spells upon it. The marble would now glow, then show her a cryptic message that he was sure only she would understand. A gold script U for the Unspeakables, a number 2--for her and the only other logical choice of a companion for her--Fred, and an image of Michael's cottage door.

Then he put it into a small drawskin bag and whistled for a small brown owl. "Take to Jack," he said to the bird, handing it the bag, and letting it out the window. The bird seemed to glide off into the night. Michael went back to the garden.

"Will she understand it?" Robert asked.

"She's the only one who could," Michael said.

Jack would say she had had a long day, but it seemed that every day was now a long day. Quidditch conditioning before work. Take Sunny to school. Go to the Ministry and bang head on desk until it was time to leave. Go to Quidditch practice. Stop by Satan's. Come home in time for dinner to be just cold enough to be disatisifying but she was just hungry enough to eat it anyway. Then her at home work began. Max was almost always already in bed by the time she crawled into bed. Then she had to contest with the blasted nightmares that had not left her since they had started, years back.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Today, she had been blessed with a nice surprise. Practice cancelled. It was almost never cancelled - they had practiced with four people before. But three were sick and two had prior engagements and Coach was having issues with his granddaughter. It had come down to Jack and she had asked the team if they thought it best to cut their losses for the day and take a break. It killed her - she was typically the one who demanded they work regardless of everything else, but a good leader also knew that overworking was just as dangerous. She could see their exhaustion. Brett had fallen off his broom just the week before, and he was one of their best fliers. Usually, a cancelled practice was met with grumbles and complaints. The fact that they just all nodded and headed for the lockers to change back into street clothes proved how necessary the break was.

She was still a bit disappointed that it had come to such, but it meant she was able to go home and be there when Tomas picked up his sister, Lize. Jack was able to make dinner for the family and, while she was at it, put her extra work to bed. She would be ahead of schedule tomorrow, so there was no need to catch up tonight. She would be able to spend time with her family.

That's when the message arrived.

A marble would only come from Michael. It was a direct mention of their first meeting. U could only stand for the job he had talked her into taking. 2 could only mean he wanted two of them, and that had to mean Fred Weasley. It was obvious. Unspeakables were horribly unsociable people. They ignored each other and everyone else. Fred and Jack consulted with each other and obviously had more than just a working relationship. Anyone at work could see that they were friends. Even if most of their jokes came in the form of semi-serious death threats. Lastly, the marble gave her the location. No time. That meant now.

Jack sighed and looked at Max. "No rest for the grouchy, it seems." She smiled and donned her jacket and pulled on her knapsack. She had a feeling it and its plethora of useful items might be useful - might not, but it was good to have nevertheless. There was the chance that she would have to bring Fred to the meeting in it.


Jack waited patiently on Fred's doorstep, having just knocked. She stayed out of the way so he could not see her through they key hole. He would be ready for a trick if he saw it was her waiting. The door opened and she stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

"Shut up, loser, we're going plotting."

He reached out, probably to preemptively save himself but she dealt him a nice punch. A small scuffle later and she apparated them away, holding onto him via headlock.


Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Sh, stop touching me, Fred. I think I hear footsteps."

Jack was feeling energized as she reached up again to knock, antsy to get into the cottage. Michael would not call her so randomly for a social visit. He knew her schedule, he knew her temperament - if he needed her now, it was really as urgent as the marble had made it seem.

If her suspicions were right, she would have work for the night.

Jack had come almost right when Michael had expected her. Almost. He was off just a moment on his timing. Either that or she was faster than normal. At either rate, it was quick enough to allow Snidely, the kleptomaniac hat rack, to race to the door and toss it wide open.  Michael sighed with annoyance.

He looked to the doorway and was relieved to see it was Jack.  He wasn't relishing having to do battle if the hat rack had opened the door to an enemy.  

"Snidely, do let me answer the door, would you?" he asked, as his footstools raced to greet Jack, barking and wagging their tassels. He attempted to push past them all to go to the door.  "Lord. There's weirdness and then there's my house."  He smiled when he saw Jack and Fred. "Nice to see you both. Come in."

He closed the door behind them.  "I'm glad you're here," he said, tossing out a couple of argyle socks to the dogs as a special treat.

His tone changed now to business as he looked at them both.   "The game has changed--significantly.  Our mission has shifted a bit, and that means your need to know also shifts.  I don't have to impress upon either of you the importance of keeping our work in confidence, but this is even more important. It could very well all rest on how we proceed from here.  You both might want to polish up your espionage skills, because it looks very much like we're going to need them.

"Come through to the garden.  We're out here.  I've got some steaks on the grill.  We haven't eaten yet. If you're hungry, you're welcome to join us," he said, motioning for them to follow.  "There's beer in the fridge.  Firewhiskey's in the garden already. Help yourselves."  

He led them out to the back garden.  Robert was sitting silently, still reading the article in the Prophet of Gideon Pierce's appointment. His mind was racing, plotting, scheming. He wanted an end to this.  He wanted the senseless law to end for them, and he wanted to try to undo the harm.  Somehow he didn't think Gideon Pierce had the same agenda. He was sorely temped to merely go and eliminate Pierce and be done with it, but there was a possibility that it wasn't Pierce. Or that Pierce had not acted alone. But everything that Robert knew about power hungry maniacs was pointing straight to Gideon Pierce. Catching him, with any evidence to convict him was going to be an entirely different mater.

As it usually went when Jack met with Michael Tremaine, she was greeted by an animated piece of furniture. She was no longer surprised. In fact, she now owned the pup of the first of these pets she had ever met - a sock-eating ottoman named Otto - and Mongo was indeed a fine addition indeed to her family. It was always a nice reminder of her friends, these little creatures. She remembered a punishment of hers in the Ministry once having been her entire office become animated as every piece of furniture revolted against her - she had been too touched that they had called in her friend to deliver the punishment that she had not even been that irritated. Certainly, everytime she met a sassy stool or a pouty pouf, it always reminded her of Michael Tremaine.

Michael was not far behind the hatrack, pushing past a small horde of furniture. He greeted them and called them inside. Jack edge her way in, careful not to step on any wooden feet, before reaching down and plucking one of the footstools from the ground. She scratched its underside and it arched itself, squirming in delight. "There's zoos, and then there's your house," Jack corrected, grinning over at Michael. "You're somewhere between Ikea and a petting zoo, really."

He tossed socks aside and Jack set the stool down so it could chase after with the rest of the critters. She wiped her hands free, wary of splinters, and she looked back to Michael, who was now free to discuss with a little more determination, now that the distraction of attention-seeking funishings was out of the way. His tone was enough to verify exactly what she had suspected since she had gotten the message. The real work was beginning.

Jack only gave a nod because Michael knew she always did the work if it was for the cause she believed in. And Michael knew her too well to only call her in when he knew she would be interested. There were favors, yes, but it all typically worked towards the same ends. He beckoned them after him, and she said, "I've eaten, but a Firewhiskey is never amiss." It was true, too. She had been preparing to open her own drink for the evening when she had gotten the call.

Jack followed Michael into the garden, where Robert was already sitting. She gripped his shoulder as she walked by him. "Good to see you, Robert." She had not exactly been forgiving with him the last she had seen him, and she remembered the near panic he had flung himself into towards the end of the battle. Still, seeing him outside was definitely a good sign, was it not? She found a glass and poured herself a hearty serving of the drink, before pushing the bottle towards Fred by means of an offer. She sat down and took a deep drink, relishing in the relief it brought. "Always a good year for liquor in the Lupin/Tremaine clan," she said. Her eyes flicked to Michael, informing him she was ready for any information he had for her.

Michael laughed when Jack corrected him.  She was, of course, correct.  

"They miss you when you don't stop by," he told her.  He walked them out to the garden.  "You'll need the firewhiskey tonight, I think," he told them as they poured their drinks.  Michael turned the steaks a quarter turn to work on the desired diamond grill marks.

"There is no bad time for whiskey, is there? We asked you here because we have news," Michael said.  "We might well have a significant advantage if we decide how to use it well.  Robert has, quite by accident, stumbled onto a potion that has reversed his curse--at least temporarily."

"To Michael's dismay," Robert said. "I am free to actually speak and make myself heard."

"You have never had a problem in making yourself heard," Michael said dryly. "My only dismay was that your fouled up potion looked like road tar and smelled distinctly like rat poison.  You surely were out of your mind to want to try that."   He looked at Jack.  "He also has his self control back--which is a good thing. I don't know if I'd want to unleash him again like that."

"However," Robert said. "Outside of Michael, you two are the only ones that know.  I seriously think we need to keep it that way."  He laid the newspaper with Gideon Pierce's photo on the front page. "I think I would like him to not find out about this for awhile, and I'd like to see what we might do about seeing what he'll actually do if he buggars things up enough that he'll have to show us what he's made of.  What do you both think?"

"Amen," Jack said to his sentiment about whiskey. Perhaps if Michael knew that her preference had become more of a practice, he would be less keen about offering the drink, but that was a small problem that only Max and the members of Layabout Lane knew about. And it was probably better if it stayed that way. Little reason to concern everyone about something she could handle.

Robert spoke and Jack turned to him, giving him a small, though there was sincerity there, smile. "Glad to see you back to yourself." She actually meant it. Though there had been times she disagreed with his policies, and there were times she had been ready for the Lupins to do themselves the favor of retreating from the public eye, she knew they needed Robert now. There would be no relief from the marriage law, or whatever trouble this Gideon Price was about to bring, until they had the firepower of the rightful Minister stepping into his place.

Jack listened thoughtfully, stepping into the practice of absorbing information as she was most prone to do when in the presence of these particular men. She was glad Robert was recovering - she remembered just how un-Robert he had been when they had set off to rescue his daughter and grandchildren. The subject of Gideon was expected, and the ideas predictable - she knew Michael and Robert well enough.

Jack sat back at Michael's question. "I personally don't think it's any coincidence that Gideon has suddenly become a notable name right now. I mean, Ministry's going to shit - apologies, Minister, but it's the truth - and suddenly we're celebrating a new political career being made? They have to be related and, even if they're not, there are more instances of someone taking control during a crisis and following their own agenda than instances of them doing what's good for the country." She took a drink. "Personally, I'd rather see Robert reinstated so things can't get worse, but I also understand that it would mean Gideon would maintain a high rank, and he's definitely not to be trusted. We need to clear out the weeds first."

"And I am certainly glad to be back to myself," Robert said.

He and Michael listened to Jack and her assessment of things at the ministry. She was spot on, so far as Robert was concerned. Gideon Pierce was at the top of his list. In fact, he was the entire top ten.

"No offense taken," Robert said, at her description of the ministry going to shit. "I can't get offended at the truth. It has gone to hell--you're right. I'm not happy that he's made such a litterbox of things, and I can't say that I'm happy that twit has forged my name to every little piece of misery that he's created."

"So how do we stop him?" Michael asked. "And soon?"

"That's precisely why I haven't bounced straight up and told everyone that I am not ill any longer," Robert said. "Pierce appears to be getting very confident that I am out of the picture forever. That could be an excellent thing for us."

"But he's still hiding as Deputy Minister behind you..." Michael said.

"Precisely. He's made a mistake. He's gotten too confident too quickly. We know now who is most likely the mastermind of all of this. Catching him is quite another matter. We need evidence so that we can arrest him. The one thing he isn't counting on is that I might be able to get past the curse to come after him. So--what are your thoughts, All? If we use any advantage we can think of, how do we use this advantage?"