Frame up! (Khaat)

Garulia got off the Night Bus sighing as he walked into the Three Broomsticks at around midnight. Framed, that's what he was! For robbing a museum, of all things! What would he want with a stupid painting? Hey, it was priceless but he was sixteen for god's sake!

Ordering a butterbeer, he sat down and stared into his mug. His hair was longer now, and he wore a large cloak instead of his usual muggle clothing. As for now, he needed to figure out what he was gonna do. All his stuff was still at Khaat's. But was she there still? Maybe she moved? How would he find her again? It'd been almost a year. Tonight, he'd stay at the pub. Everyone was probably sleeping at Khaat's if anyone was there, and he didn't want to take the chance of waking anyone up.

Khaat had been visiting Michael in the old cottage she used to live in when she was living with Rob. She had been invited for a gourmet dinner, courtesy of her godfather who now rented the cottage she had spent so many glorious days in, and when it grew late, Michael had offered to take her home. She had declined and had decided to walk. It was a beautiful night, or at least she thought it was, and she walked the almost empty Hogsmeade streets. In order to hopefully conceal her identity, she had worn her black cloak that brushed the ground and she had pulled the hood up over her face. There were only really two telltale signs that it might be her. First, the large diamond and emerald rings she wore on her left hand now, and second, her tall stiletto heels. Few women in the wizarding world wore them as regularly as Khaat did.

She had a craving, though, for a cup of seer's tea, and there were only two places that made it decently. One was the Leaky, and the Three Broomsticks was another. She went into the pub, finding there still was a fair amount of activity inside. She went to the bar, ordered her cup of tea, and waited while they went through the rather complicated process of brewing it for her. She laid several sickles on the bar for it. She lowered the hood on her cloak, not seeing any enemies in sight, and when her tea was delivered, she went over to a small empty table near an open window and took a seat there with her teacup, deciding to enjoy the night air.

Garulia didn't look up when the door open, and sipped his butterbeer for a bit. I can't believe I was in jail, he though angrily. After he finished his mug of butterbeer, he started to get up and glanced around. The place was near empty, except for a few other people, him, and...

"Khaat!" he said excitedly, his face suddenly brightening as he went over to sit across from her. "Oh my god, Khaat it's been so long! Of course, I should have figured the first person I saw when I got back would be you!" He beamed at her, his first real smile since he was incarcerated.

"Gar?" she looked at him unbelieving. "Is it really you? Where the devil have you been? I"ve been worried sick about you! Alright, we do have to talk." She snapped her fingers, and the bartender looked up at her. Khaat pointed to Gar's empty butterbeer mug. The bartender filled another mug and floated it over to Khaat. Khaat drew Remus's wand from her cloak and floated a couple of sickles back to the bartender.

"I have missed you so much, and we have so much to catch up on. Do you realize my daughter turned a year old last night? She's growing up so fast," she smiled. "Oh, and I've moved. You won't believe the house I live in now. It is utterly amazing. But one thing at a time. Tell me about you."

So she did move. I was right, Garulia said, mentally nodding and making a note. "Yes, it's me Khaat!" He took a drink of the new butterbeer. "I was framed for a robbery, Khaat. I've been in a German jail this whole time. It was rough," he said, holding up his extra long hair. "But I made it. I couldn't understand anyone, but I made it. Somebody planted some of my clothing at the crime. What idiot leaves their CLOTHES at a crime scene?" he asked, incredulous at the stupidity of the German police. "But I have to hand it to the thief: he stole clothes from me and managed to wipe all the tapes and keep his own prints off everything."

Shrugging, he took a large gulp. "Ah well. is all my stuff at your new house? My tent? Everything? I can't wait to see your daughter! Where's the new house, Khaat?"

"Never fear. I have all your things," Khaat smiled. "But, lets see why someone might want to frame you. One moment." She borrowed paper and an owl and sent a note a few doors away to Michael. In mere seconds, Michael apparated outside the door of the pub and walked in, his Mershon pipe in his hand. He picked her out instantly.

"Mikey!" Tom the bartender said cheerfully. "Your usual, I trust?"

"Yes, Tom, please," Michael said, tossing sickles his direction. The bartender handed Michael a double shot of firewhiskey, and Michael took the glass and went over to Khaat's table. He kissed Khaat's cheek. "I thought you were going home, my dear."

"I was. Michael, this is one of my wards, Garulia. Gar, this is my godfather, Michael Tremaine. I think he may be just the person to help figure out who framed you and why."

"Framed?" MIchael's interest was peaked. He pulled a chair up to the table,and he looked at the young man. "Tell me what you know, Lad. Start at the beginning."

Garulia nodded at Khaat and waited for the moment. Then the man walked in and he smiled his old friendly, new-person smile and shook the guys hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Tremaine," he said politely. "Well, I don't know much. I was staying in Germany for a bit, so they had all my information fresh as a foreign visitor. I'm almost certain it was a wizard crime, though, or else an extremely intelligent muggle cat burglar. They knew who I was, enough to steal my clothes. There were a bunch of my prints on the clothes; they found me quick. It was an expensive painting, I don't remember what it was called though."

He shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

"Well," MIchael said. "My thoughts are that the man behind this is most likely a lousy catburglar, in all reality. He probably chose you at random and framed you in order to cover up his own ineptitude."

"What?" Khaat frowned. "You think it was someone rather amateur?"

"Or a bad professional. Either way, he was offsetting his own mistakes by trying to throw blame off himself onto you, my boy. Unfortunately, it does happen. "So, somehow they figured out you were a wizard or else you'd have been in a very unpleasant German prisoner until you were very old and very gray. A wizard making such an error in judgement is a different story. It becomes more of a slap on the wrist in comparison. I am quite sure all the months you spent in confinement were not at all pleasant. But I am just as sure that I can find who did this and put things to rights, if that is what you would like me to do."

"Do you mind, MIchael?" Khaat asked.

"Not at all," he smiled at them both. "I would hate for my specialties to get rusty, after all. And where will you be, Garulia?"

"Gar will be with me," Khaat said with an absolute firmness. "His home is with me."

"It seems as though you are in good hands, then," he said to Gar.

Garulia shrugged. "It would make sense. I find wizard burglars get sloppy with the fact that they can wipe all evidence later on with a simple spell. If you did find him, I'd pay you, of course, Mr. Tremaine. And," he added, looking at Khaat. "I'd love to come back and live with you."

"So um...how's Miseria?" he asked, blushing a little at the thought of his ongoing crush. He may have given up at one point but that didn't change the allure she had on him. "And everyone else?" he added quickly, meaning people like Jack, Jessica, etc.

Khaat looked at Michael when Gar said wizarding burglars got sloppy. She was doing her best to hide a grin off her face. If she knew Michael he was at least giving a passing thought to changing Gar into a painting rather than helping him get off the hook for nipping one. And to her surprise, Michael hadn't said a word. He was at least attempting to behave himself. The urge to burst out in uncontrollable laughter at her godfather was almost more than she could stand.

"I don't need your money, Boy," Michael said. "I think some simple graffit all over the ministry atrium walls saying 'Catburglars rule!' should be more than sufficient."

"You will do no such thing," Khaat looked at Gar. She slapped Michael's hand halfheartedly. "You will not start teaching him things. Or giving him a hard time, either one."

"So you think?" MIchael looked at her. Khaat rolled her eyes at Michael and looked back at Gar.

"Mis is fine. I'm sure she would love to see you again. I figure she'll be coming to the house over the summer. Or at least part of it. Everyone else is good. You'll have to meet some of the new people that are in my life now. There is a lot you don't know, but its all good."