Secret Mission #J762

Mikki did not like how these things progressed.

Earlier this morning things had been simple. She had come down into the kitchen in her pajamas and made oatmeal, like any other day. Her uncle Isaak had stumbled come in, sat down, and begun reading the Prophet. "Collin Daly."

"What about him?"

"He's been rumored to have bragged about the Elder Wand."

"Really?"

"Yes. He spends his weekends in the Hog's Head."

"Hmmm."

"Go get him, Mika," he said in his thick accent.

She had put on her gear; black, metallic tights, thick black boots, and a tight, thermal shirt. A silver belt hung loose on her hips and she tied her hair back. She had left for the Hog's Head where she had found the man and tried to cajole him into giving her information. That had not worked out, so she had drawn her wand. The man was unconsciousness within matter pf minutes, but his cronies did not like that. Two went down in the chase, but she found it was more prudent to flee at this time.

She scaled one of the alls of the store and ran across it, her long legs carrying her away from the men. She clambered down again, jumping on to crates and following a network of allies until she burst out into the crowded street of Hogsmeade. She looked around edgily and pushed a hand through her hair. Her heartbeat began to return to normal and she summoned a long cardigan to pull on over her shirt and then released her hair. The men were long behind her but they could always find her.

She glanced around and saw the Three Broomsticks. It was always an ideal place to hide so Mikki made her way inside. She ordered a Firewhiskey calmly and found a small table in the back, where she sat in dignity, slowly sipping it. What a day.

After seeing Renny again, Marcus had decided to stay in and around Hogwarts. He’d become a ghost in the village, something no one noticed yet felt the presence of. Marcus liked it that way. It gave him the solitude he needed. Somehow, he’d managed to convince the landlady of the Three Broomsticks to rent him a room and with the last galleons he had, he paid the room up until the next full moon after which he’d probably go back on the road.

There were several advantages to having a semi-permanent dwelling, however. The first of which was running water. The second was the bed. Marcus indulged in both as well as the steady stream of food that came from the kitchens. To let off some steam he worked in the bar during the days. He enjoyed chats with the patrons. It made him feel normal again despite knowing full well that ‘normal’ was never going to be a word applied to him anymore. It was ironic really, that no one at the inn knew. It suited him, though. The deception, of course, didn’t but their ignorance did. He didn’t want their reactions.

Marcus had earned his lunch break and he was taking it when Mikaela walked in. Although he did not know her, his eyes were immediately drawn to her and the eighteen-year-old followed her movements across the pub. When she sat down, he got up. He crossed the room and stood before her table, his rum and coke in his hand by his side.

“Mind if I join you?” Marcus asked, giving her a sincere smile.

Mikki had many little missions her uncle had her do, she had her own agendas, her own quest, but the one thing that always remained constant was her duty to sway people. To slowly but surely work them her way to understand the Greater Good, to join her on her quest, to be ready to abandon their silly ideals and take over for a cause bigger than her, themselves...

Mikki had never been a people person. She was a scientist above anything, in the way she regarded people. But every conversation had been treated like an experiment, and after as many experiments as she had had she had sort of found her rhythm. Still, whenever she realized her opportunity was coming to push her ideas onto others. Still... her old habits crept up and kept her from being completely confident.

A boyling was speaking to her, a little younger than herself. She began evaluating. It was if a little screen popped up in her eyes, calculating height, weight, condition of dress, threat level, distinctive markings or qualities about him. Anything that may be important or useful to her. She turned and looked up at him, nodding and saying, "Sure." She waved her wand and the chair slid out for him.

Under the girl's critical gaze, Marcus felt rather uncomfortable, but when the chair slipped out from under the table, he took a seat none the less. He placed the drink down on one of the coasters advertising for a new flavour of Drooballs and covered over the obnoxious dancing logo. Marcus covered his mouth with his hand as a yawn threatened to erupt and dropped it when the chance was gone. He looked at the girl and smiled, his eyes lighting up as it reached the brown orbs.

"You don't look like you're from around here," he commented easily. "You don't sound like it either. Correct me if i am wrong but is that...Russian? It's something slavic, I know that much."

Mikki found it easier to get her points across with as much of the truth intact as possible because, frankly, she was not a fan of lying. She dealt with rationality and facts. A lie was not a fact, therefore she was not convinced of them and felt ignorant trying to convince others of them. Her uncle dealt almost solely in deceit and lies. She had watched him lie about the most foolhardy of things with no hesitation. He could convince someone the sky was green if he so wished. She did not possess his skills. Her methods required truth and reason.

So she found no reason to deny her accent. There was not much point anyhow. "You are correct, it is Russian. I attended Durmstrang and moved here shortly after with a family relative." She slowly sipped her Firewhiskey, her mind still making all of the necessary calculations it deemed fit for the time being. "You look about the age most of the elder Hogwarts students are. Why are you not in school?"

Marcus liked foreign accents. He didn't know why, he just did. There was something flat about British accents. They were undesirable and frankly, boring. He didn't have an accent really because he didn't come from a region where there was a strong one. He had a habit of mimicking accents though and he was worried he'd do the same with her, too. He didn't want to offend. She seemed nice enough.

Realising he'd been staring at the bottle of beer, Marcus looked up. The woman spoke carefully, as if she was measuring every syllable. That's how it sounded to him, anyway. It was nothing like the rough bark of the werewolves in the Forbidden Forest. They'd been hanging around for a while. Greyback had yet to move on. What he was waiting for though, Marcus didn't know.

"Was Durmstrang a good school?" Marcus asked curiously. "You hear such awful things from other people. Obviously we wonder if it is true."

Marcus bit his lip and wondered how he was supposed to answer. Eventually he came up with, "Circumstances disallow me to attend at present. I'd be there if I could be. Have you not seen the newspapers? I am one of the only ones that isn't listed as dead. It's the northern werewolf movement. I would have said they were creating an army but its more like systematic execution. They pick the best ones, change them and slaughter the rest because they're witnesses. Everyone has blood on their hands, even those who merely watch.."

The boy was not making eye contact, rather he was staring intently at the bottle in front of him, a fact that Mikki carefully stored away. For whatever reason, that seemingly small detail could become of great importance to her in the future. She had always stored details and recently she had realized that they were important. One of the men she was sent to spy on had had a very particular brand of socks he wore on rainy days. She had never thought they information would be important.... And yet it had been crucial.

At his question, she tipped her head forward. "Understandable. Some people can not appreciate their alma mater, though I flourished there. It is a challenging school, not for the weak-hearted nor the weak-minded. It resembles the real world and is, as I will continue to press in the minds of everyone who asks, the best school in the world. No cruelty on your Hogwarts, just my own opinion." She always forgot that she could not offend who she was trying to relate to. It was important if she wanted their trust.

She blinked at his next words. Gold. Werewolf movement. Hmmm... That was something she Isaak and she would have to look into. If there was a way to get involved to stem some of the the benefits, they would have to. She blinked again, realizing she needed to keep the boy on track and in the dark. "Even if I had read the papers, the name would not be of much consequence. I do not know your name. And that is intriguing. I did not realize there was a large werewolf community here."

The Newspapers displayed more and more deaths per day. Now they were even showing Muggle deaths. Marcus had noticed a dip though. More people were going missing but they were showing up dead as quickly as their faces appeared in the 'missing' category. He, himself, was still 'missing'. He had no idea what he was supposed to do from there. What he did know was that he didn't want to have to go through Ministry physicals and St. Mungo's check-ups upon listing himself as 'found'. There was no point to it.

Large werewolf community? Marcus cocked an eyebrow at her before shaking his his head. There wasn't a large werewolf community in Hogsmeade but they hung about well enough. Greyback had his lot in the Forbidden Forest but they'd be on the move soon enough. The only Werewolves around seemed to be the Hogwarts students and that hardly counted as a community. They all seemed to hate each other for some reason or another. Marcus didn't understand it himself.

"They're dotted around," he replied with a shrug. He took another gulp from his ButterBeer, keeping his eyes on the girl. "They're all moving south though, towards the coast. I think they were in Hull the last I heard so they haven't exactly got far."

Mikki listened carefully and drained the last of her Firewhiskey, which had gone a lot quicker than she had expected. She set down the empty mug and reached across for the glass of complimentary ice water that you got with every meal. It was starting to get more and more packed, the place was warming up, and it was getting louder, which made it easier to talk in private.

What did she know about this boy- young, supposed to be in school, skittish yet knowledgeable when it came to werewolves. Not a small build, but sort of shruken, as though he were hungry. He had not responded when she had mentioned she did not know his name, which either led to distraction or keeping his name secret. Her guess- he was a werewolf or had connections to one that kept him from attending school. Mikki was typically right.

"Hmm..." she said thoughtfully as a waiter came by and collected her mug. She watched him for awhile, letting her judgment settle in her mind until she was given another Firewhiskey. She stopped the man. "Bring us some sort of appetizers. A few trays of your best." She smiled at the boy. "On me, of course. I find this subject very interesting, I must admit. I do not remember hearing too many stories of werewolves in my hometown, and yet it seems that they are commonplace here."

Suddenly, Marcus found himself wondering whether he'd said too much. As it was, he probably had. Biting hard on his bottom lip, he avoided the girl's gaze and began to scratch at the label on the bottle of Butterbeer. He cleared his throat and released his lip as the waiter passed. The girl placed the order and it was then that Marcus remembered that he didn't actually know her name.

"Forgive me for prying but I don't think I caught your name."

Marcus latched his nail behind the label and began to tear it off. He shook his head, stifling whatever noise was threatening to leave his lips. He didn't know what was fascinating about such an affliction. As it was, he could sympathise. There weren't a lot of Werewolf activity in Russia and with good reason too -- it was too damn cold for them to even function properly let alone create as much mayhem as they did in Britain and other European countries.

"If you know where to look...you'll find one." Marcus replied evasively.