The Executor of the Will

Thaor sat in thought for a moment. Jack and he had never gotten along, but he did feel for her. He promised to help her, and he would. The Death Eaters, believe me to be on their side, they believe I'm playing double agent for them. They're daft enough to believe Jess let me into the order. For now. Grindlewald isn't so stupid though. It could be one of his goons. I'd also suspect Ne'Os, but he'd do it himself. Thaor said, taking another drink. Jack is a strong young lady Michael. Never-the-less, I will make sure she knows I'm alive. We never got along her and I. But we recently had a decent conversation. I'll be helping her get a job as a magizooligist. I trust her to know about this, and for her to keep it between the two of us. Thaor said, knowing he could trust her. She already lied to the ministry about his 'death'. And what he was doing on that tower.

"What about that blond woman who slipped in and went on a killing spree and then buggered off again? I've never seen her before. Is she an old girlfriend or something? She looked like purely a mercenary to me, but I could be wrong. You haven't been falling for the wrong sort of girl again, have you?" Robert asked. "You're much too far away from me for my likings. I would really like you to consider one of my unplottable safehouses in England. Much as it is tempting for you to sit off here in no man's land by yourself, believe it or not, I do need you. I need your brain, anyway, and you're of no help way out here. I need you to reconsider coming back into England and hiding. I do have ways to make it impossible for anyone to find you unless you want them to."

"Is that before or after you turn him into a damned bug?" Michael said, pouring a bit more into his nearly empty glass. "You're finally learning to stock the decent firewhiskey. Good boy. This seems to be one of those 'whole bottle' conversations."

Thaor took another drink before responding. Caelani, the old leader of my dear death eaters. It wouldn't have been her either, she wouldn't wear a mask if she wanted to 'off' me. Thaor said, standing and walking to the fireplace. I learned the good stuff is the only stuff worth drinking. I wonder who tought me that. Thaor said, winking towards Michael. Robert, as much as I want to help you, and I want you to help me. I need to do this on my own. Clean up my own mess. I will help you with what I can from here, I will be in London in a few days. I will pay you a visit then. Thaor said, taking another drink.

Robert scowled at Thaor. "Alright," he sighed. "Note to self--stop forgetting how stubborn Thaor can be." Michael just laughed. "I want you, though, to forget about helping me. Just take care of your own situation so you can come home. I think I may be able to manage for now. If I need you, I'll send Mikey here or something. And I trust you know how to reach us."

"Well," Michael said. "We do need to cover your tracks well for now, though. I will close the wand shop for the time being. Robert can appropriately drag his feet on the finalization of your estate, in light of the other current political crises and that will give you a bit of time. What else do you think you need?"

Thaor finished his glass, and refilled it. Now that you mention it, there is something I need. Thaor said, setting his glass down, and walking to his cabinet with his pensive in it. I've been thinking about the night I made that vow. And I can't quite put my finger on it, but I think. Thaor said, pulling the memory out of his mind with his wand, and into the pensive. There is something very strange with everything. Besides the fact I actually made it. Thaor said, shooting Michael a look then smiling. Come watch with me. Thaor said, leaning into the pensive to watch the memory. The three of them surfaced in Malfoy Manor, Caelani, Alan Wake, and Grindlewald the only ones present besides Thaor.

“Do you, Henry Windsor, agree not to plot, conspire or act in any way to uproot Thaor Elldir from the leadership of the Death Eaters?” She then turned her eyes to Thaor, “And do you, Thaor Elldir, agree to pledge the aid of the Death eaters in this campaign? And do you two agree to honour this agreement?”

The three of them resurfaced in Thaors living room. Either of you two catch anything?

"I'm sorry," MIchael said, "I didn't see anything, except Ithat Mr. Henry Windsor does seem to be Gellert Grindelwald. I know thats who I saw at the battle. If that is the case, and if he is holding to his part of the vow, then it seems he intended to use you as a pawn of his right from the start. He clearly will need the death eaters as followers in order to support his claim for power."

"Agreed," Robert said. "And, even if he didn't hold to it, if he had one horcrux, a man like Grindlewald might have more. Who knows? And, personally, I don't trust Bittel or Wake any farther than I could spit them. But you know them better than I do."

Thaor's eyes widened as Michael said Henry Windsor. Sandra had said Henry Windsor instead of Gellert Grindlewald. Michael, you're brilliant. Thaor said, rushing over to his bookshelf. Henry Windsor does not exist, Sandra said Henry Windsor when she made the vow between Grindlewald and I. We were never bound to it in the first place. Thaor said, pulling out his copy of Black Magic; Holy Horcruxes and flipping through it. Had to make sure, but yes, he was never bound to it. But I was, it falls into a bit of grey area, not much is known about all this. Thaor said, placing te book back on the shelf. Thaor returned to his chair and took another swig of firewhisky.

"It seems you were used, my friend. Grindlewald seems to have planned this out in advance. You're going to have to watch your step. So will you, Robert. He was far too eager to be your very best ally and friend at that little skirmish."

"Don't worry about me," Robert said. "He's not the only dark arts practitioner I've ever come up against. And besides, if it comes, oh well. We all have to die of something."

"Dying? Who the hell was talking about dying?" Michael frowned.

"You were, indirectly," Robert said.

"Not that I had intended," Michael said. "I'd rather you plan on being around for that new litter of grandkids you have coming any day now."

"Its not happening that fast. She has a ways to go yet," Robert replied. All of a sudden, Michael's backpack started to bark in a tiny, miniature sounding bark. Robert frowned. "What the hell have you done, Mikey?" he scowled. "What did you put in there?"

Thaor chuckled a bit at Robert. Practicioner? Like, a nurse? Thaor said with a grin. It quickly faded from his face as the topic changed to death. Robert will be around for those grandchildren. We'll see to that. Thaor said, taking a gulp of firewhisky. When he heard a faint bark, Thaor turned to Michael. What the hell do you have? Thaor asked angrily, knowing Michael likes to bring people presents they mostly didn't want.

"I brought you a present," he said. "Blame Khaat. Its not my fault. She did it. Not me." Robert rolled his eyes. He could hardly wait to see what Michael thought was Khaat's sole fault. Michael opened the backpack and drew out a small box and took his wand and change the box back to its original rather large size.

"144 pair of black socks. You'll need these," Michael said. "It has to eat something. You'll rather it eat these rather than yours, I'm sure." Then he took out of his back pack a dollhouse sized mahogany footstool covered in soft dark brown suede. The thing was barking and wagging a tassel tail and all excited. He was giving Thaor one of his enchanted footstool puppies that thought they were cocker spaniels. He put the teeny weeny footstool in Thaor's hand. "Yes, it is housebroken now. And it only eats socks. Blame Khaat. She owns both the father and the mother of this lad here. But she said when I rented the house from her, I had to keep them. And Ozzy here has not told me how the devil you spay or neuter a footstool. So--he's all yours. And yes, he will grow up to be fullsized. They really are good companions, though. I guess Khaat thought I needed a pet. So now, you have one." Robert burst into uncontrollable laughter.