Not So Friendly Fire

Michael apparated onto the street outside Grimmauld Place and stared up at the flat that, for so many years, had been a welcome refuge, a safe haven, and the place from where the desire to fight for the greater good had so often come.  Tonight, he wasn't so sure if there was any greater good left.  The lines were blurring, and where it used to be so easy to tell who the bad guys were and who the good guys were, now, everyone seemed to be wearing the same shade of gray.

He was infuriated, though.  In the distance, Big Ben chimed two.  Two a.m.  Who came here these days at two in the morning?  He did.  And he wanted answers, if it took disassembling the building brick by brick to get to the truth.

He had his wand leveled, ready to defend himself if he needed to, and he bounded up the stairs and burst into the door as if he were ready to start a war.  He had forgotten about Walburga's hatred for him, and the portrait began to shriek obscenities at him.

"Oh, shut it, you ugly old bat," he fired his wand at the portrait, sealing the lips shut on the face of the Black matriarch.  Not like he didn't usually do something foul to Walburga when he came, but tonight he wasn't in the mood. His so-called friends had about five seconds to decide to show themselves before Michael really geared up. He was about half a notch from a good old healthy rage.

"Where are you!" he bellowed through what looked like an empty house.  "Come out and explain yourselves this instant!  You'd better not wait for me to have to search the place and find you, or I won't be nearly so bloody civilized!"

Oliver wasn't usually at Grimmauld Place at night, regardless of his role within the organization. But he had decided to finally figure out exactly who they had among their ranks, and it took longer to organize things than he had expected. He felt a bit bad about being away now that Alice was back to normal, but he had been sure to explain before simply disappearing and not coming home after midnight. To be fair, though, they were both adults and at that point, and he wouldn't have had into her if she had come in late. He was tired, though, and seriously looking forward to going home once he finished.

The night wasn't going to end when he expected it to, though. He realized that the moment the painting started shouting at someone and it wasn't at him. She didn't like Oliver very well, but he didn't often have her cursing at him personally. He sort of hoped that whoever it was would just come on upstairs and find him, or decide that he wasn't there and leave. But he was utterly out of luck that night.

Oliver wasn't entirely sure, but he thought he recognized the voice shouting at him. He hadn't been around as long as other members, but it was definitely not a pleasant shout that came up his direction. Knowing that there was really no way out of it, he sighed and stood up to make his way down the stairs.

By the time he fully registered what was being said to him - yelled at him, rather - Oliver's face was contorted into an expression of something between anger and confusion. "Excuse me? If you're going to threaten me, at least tell me what the hell you think I've done to deserve it."

There were footsteps on the stairs in response to Michael's bellowing. Good. It saved him the search.  Connolly.  He knew the face.  Didn't know the lad personally but he knew the face.  Michael had heard that leadership had changed hands, so he didn't know what this boy was playing at, but Michael intended to find out.

The order had, for some reason, tactfully discouraged Robert from coming to the Order meetings awhile back when Grindelwald had started to lay a foundation of lies to try to discredit him.  And where the Lupins went, Michael went, his loyalties unshakeable.  They were the only family he had, really.


He looked up at the young man, still feeling anger, but now a lack of understanding possessed him as well.  Despite their attendance at Order meetings for awhile, the Lupins still considered themselves Order members.  Hell, he and Robert and Kate were part of the bunch that had been in the Order at its birth. And, strangely enough, even without Robert's regular presence in meetings, the Order, so far, had continued to back him up and help keep him safe if he needed it--until tonight.
 

"Threaten you? You have no idea what I can do if I intend to threaten. You tell me now. What the hell have you done?" he asked, only very slightly lowering his wand.  "The Order's attempt to kill Robert tonight failed utterly, but your assassin was seen in the act and clearly identified--not just by me, but, more importantly, by one of the Death Eater leaders.  And Robert was rescued by the same Death Eater.  What the hell are you doing, and why? Have you lot stopped talking to fellow Order members now if you have some sort of a difference of opinion?  It's murder now, is it? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't 'eliminate' the problem myself before sunrise and then come back here to hang you upside down by your toenails over a cauldron. It's sounding entirely justified from where I'm standing. Or would you all just prefer a cuddly dementor in Azkaban?"

For the record, Oliver was not at all the sort to go around cursing. Not ever. But, reader, you'll have to forgive him this once, because he hadn't been so confused in his entire life. Even including the moment he realized his girlfriend had been somehow made (temporarily, mind you) to look like a man. So when he spoke again - for it did take him a moment to properly understand what was being said - it was a tone of complete and utter shock.

"Who the fuck are you talking about?" He questioned, shaking his head as though it would prove the fact that he knew nothing about what had happened. "If they've been identified then bloody well tell me, why don't you? I've been here working, so how would I know if someone's gone off and done something? I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not exactly the most volatile member of the Order. Not by any means."

Oliver crossed his arms over his chest, attempting to make himself into a more intimidating figure before he continued. "If anything, I'm the rational one, between myself and Swan, and to be quite honest, I've been too busy with other things to care about making some stupid move on the Ministry. It isn't as though the person expected they could get away with it, is it? I mean, really. An assassin that failed, no less. If we were going to do something, I promise you I wouldn't be so daft as to hire a failure of a murderer. There's no reason for that, though, so how about you explain to me exactly why you think this is my doing."

He honestly seemed to be genuinely lost.  Clueless. Well, then, the lad was in more trouble than he realized if that really were the case.


"Either you're a liar," Michael said slowly, "Or you really are clueless. But I'll play along for the moment.  Ironic that you bring up Swan since it was she who attempted to poison Robert tonight.


"We were in the Leaky.  Robert had worked late, and I met him there for a pint and a bite to eat.  Your Ms. Swan was there--bought him a round, said he should consider it a little gift from the Order.  Within seconds of taking the first drink from the pint, Robert became ill.  


"The next thing I knew, Lorcan D'Eath picked up the pint glass, put his arm under Robert's shoulder, and drew his wand to make off with him.  I grabbed onto the other side of Robert, and D'Eath apparated us out to some potions lab of his.  He concocted some potion, telling us he was certain he'd seen Swan put something into the pint just before she handed it to him. D'Eath gives him the potion he's made, which turns out to be quite the effective anti-toxin."


"So, it seems to me that, either your plan failed, or Ms. Swan has gone off grid and is not following Order protocol.  Either way, attempted murder is still a serious crime, and she's in trouble. If you're part of it, then you're an accessory.  If not, then you have an assassin in your ranks who is out of control.  

"Robert is still alive, and he'll be alright.  And as odd as it sounds, we have one of the leaders of the Death Eaters to thank for it and his quick thinking.  He monitored Robert for the better part of an hour to be certain he was going to survive the poisoning.  Then he sent us home with several bottles of medicinal potions to help care for his symptoms for the next day or two.  If D'Eath hadn't been there, Robert almost certainly would have died. As a potionsmaster, D'Eath recognized the symptoms and knew the proper potion to reverse it.  Odd as it is to say, I am more grateful than D'Eath will ever know that he was there.  


"In the confusion, though, I'm afraid I lost sight of Swan.  My first concern was for Robert.  But there is one more thing you ought to know.  D'Eath really doesn't need provoking to not like the Order, and when he saw Swan poison Robert in the name of the Order, D'Eath promised Robert that he would personally assure that the Order would not harm him again.  


"It appears to me that this is way out of control.  We do not need a war between the factions, but this is exactly where this is going to head.  So, if your lot isn't up on dueling protocol, this might be  good time to refresh their skills a bit in case they find themselves fighting angry death eaters.  As for Ms. Swan, either her freedom or her life is going to be shortened relatively quickly, along with anyone working with her. "

Somehow, Oliver wasn't even surprised. But he just wasn't, and he couldn't bring himself to pretend that he was. No, he was annoyed, actually. Of all the stupid things that woman had to go and do, it was this. A part of him was actually personally insulted by her actions, if only because it put him in a rather uncomfortable spot.

Oliver let Michael finish his story before replying, though he did shift his weight once out of merely disliking the situation at hand. "I'm not going to sit here and praise the Death Eaters, though I can't say I'm unhappy he stepped in, either. Audriana has been talking about how poorly she thinks Robert has handled things, and this isn't outside the realms of what she might've come up with to deal with that. I just thought she would be a bit more intelligent than that. Apparently not."

Oliver glowered at a wall for a moment before sighing and giving a firm nod, directed at his own thoughts. "I can't say if it was Swan acting on her own or what, but I think it would be worth getting the Order together. If I'm going to worry about this at two a.m., they can, too," he joked half-heartedly. "The last thing we need is to have everyone running about while Lorcan is fuming. The Death Eaters have not, in my experience, been very forgiving. And they haven't wasted time before acting either. It's time we bring back the old ways of figuring out what's wrong and just doing something about it.

"I'll call in everyone but Audriana. If she wasn't working alone, I daresay they might not want to show themselves. Or, perhaps they will attend but be a bit too obvious in their disapproval when I tell them I'm forcing her out. I'm just plain tired of her nonsense."

When she woke it was not as a result of the dipping of the mattress as Ollie crept into bed or the light from the bathroom across the hall. At first she furled herself deeper into the covers, her nose burrowing into his pillow. She’d wiggled over to Ollie’s side in her dreams, as though hoping to find him there. He wasn’t, though, and when she woke she didn’t find him coming home, either. Instead, there was a little bit of him, silvery and ethereal, bearing a standard message of summons that made Alice close her eyes and beg for it to be some sort of horrid nightmare rousing her.

The Patronus danced away and she waited a few breaths, feeling her heart steady once more in her chest as her eyes blinked about in the renewed darkness. One hand reached out, her fingers splaying blindly over the side of the bed for the lamp switch. Suddenly the room was filled with yellow light and Alice hissed, squinting her eyes shut and drawing the bed clothes back over her head with a canine-like whine. It was the rudest wakeup call in a while – even her alarm clock wasn’t so offensive given she could throw the thing across the room and snuggle back into her lover.

But alas, as the bed and the Patronus sought to remind her, he wasn’t there. But she was summoned, all the same, so it was a small bonus that she’d get to see him and then, once the meeting was over and done with, have him home again. That considered, it did require her to somehow cleave herself from the bed which in itself was a mammoth task. The dogs, blessedly, were far off in dreamland. She dressed as quietly as possible – which really consisted of digging her feet into her slippers after pulling on her shorts.

Once she’d found out a kimono she took her wand from the side table and apparated, appearing with a crack in the foyer of Grimmauld Place. It was amazing she’d managed to cut through the tension enough to land in the room. She stumbled a bit, never good with apparation at the best of times, let alone when she could barely keep her eyes open, but she managed to catch her balance and she lifted a hand to rub at her eyes, her gaze through her fingers finding Ollie, a little smile appearing on her face.

“It’s two am, guys,” she yawned, plodding across the room towards the kitchen door where she had one goal in mind: getting herself a cup of coffee. “Why couldn’t this have waited until morning?”

With that Alice hopped – read: near fell – down the steps into the kitchen and caught herself once more, dignified in her gait again despite the owl slippers by the time she reached the kettle which she flicked on and set about finding herself that desired energy. Two hours’ fitful sleep wasn’t bad to run on, she figured, abandoning one scoopful more than usual into her coffee cup. In revision, she added another. Two hours just wasn’t enough. Two am was an absurd time of day night to get someone up. Utterly unreasonable.

This better be good, she thought.

One of the most refreshing things about life in the mountains was getting up at a decent hour. Some might not call rising with the sun a decent hour, to be true, but it was more decent than staying up all hours, which seemed to be the rule in the city.

Selwyn was a little put out, therefore, by the silvery form rousing him from well earned sleep. Did we really have to do this right now?

With a groan he shed boxers, cast cleansing charms and glanced at the clock. 2 am. Something must have gone badly awry. Pulling on jeans, shrugged into a khaki shirt and a grey pullover just in case hiding amongst shadows was the order of the day. Night. Morning.

Selwyn apparated to Grimmauld Place, wand out, but put it away when he heard a female voice complaining at the timing.

Although she had a point, Selwyn just knew he'd be hearing the same sentiments repeated before sunrise. Time to be surprisingly chipper for this time of day.

"Good morning all!" he exclaimed, jumping down the shallow steps into the kitchen and hitting his head on a beam in the process.

"Ow!"

And then much less enthusiastically, as he massaged his skull: "To what do we owe the pleasure of this bloody summons anyway?"

There was something innately separate and different about Grimmauld Place. Within those walls, Oliver was not just an author, or just the man who had messed up spectacularly but somehow still managed to win the girl. He had responsibility and a persona to present to anyone who entered and attended their meetings.

So although, if they had been at home, Oliver would have greeted her more fondly, he only gave her shoulders a squeeze before she headed off. In truth, he felt bad about waking everyone, but waiting until morning held the possibility of danger, and the last thing he wanted was to risk the members of the group he claimed some sort of authority over.

To be fair, he had a feeling that the way things were run needed to change. But that would come after they shoved Audriana out the door and hopefully get her into some serious trouble in the process. Her comment reached his ears, and all he could manage was a tense response.

"Believe me, love. this one couldn't wait until morning."

He looked up at Selwyn's arrival, pleasantly surprised at the apparently eager interest in the meeting. "I believe that Michael is the one best equipped to explain precisely what happened. He was there, after all. But for starts, let's just say that the way things are run around here is about to change."

Michael felt frustrated and useless.  He felt like every moment counted, and yet, he'd lost Swan. He didn't have a clue where to find her.  He could trace her address easily enough, but unless she had lost all common sense, no would-be murderer would simply go straight home and kick her shoes off, would she?  Well, for that matter, what would be murderer attempted such a thing in plain sight?


"I'm afraid the wake up call is my fault," Michael said to those who didn't appreciate being rousted out at two in the morning. "But I think you'll find this important."  He found himself needing to keep his hands busy for some reason, and just as quickly he realized he had started the motions of making a pot of tea.  Bloody hell, how many pots of tea had he made in this kitchen over the years?  Oh well, tea did seem like the thing to do, didn't it? 

"There's someone in the Order that you might not want to continue to trust," Michael said as he busied himself with the teapot.  "Ms. Swan seems like she has most likely gone offgrid to carry out her own plans.  She made an attempt to kill a fellow Order member earlier tonight--in plain sight--without any apparent provocation.

"I daresay by daylight I expect the aurors to be looking for her. Her intended target was Robert Lupin, and she attempted to poison him in the Leaky Cauldron.  Her attempt was thwarted by Death Eater Lorcan D'Eath. 

"So, now, it seems, we may have at least two major problems.  First, we have a would-be murderer amongst us. And, second, D'Eath has hated the Order for a long time.  Swan just handed him a very legal reason to want the Order out of business for good.  It is more than likely that he will use this to justify doing whatever he feels is necessary to eliminate the Order for good.

"And, so, that's the reason I sounded the proverbial alarm.  There may not be much time to waste."