A Brotherhood of Sorts

Vito would probably hate knowing that this was the use Jack was going to put his nightclub too.

Once it had become apparant that the poltergeist was not returning (Jack could feel the lack of his presence and had not felt it since before the era of Nemo madness) Jack had realized that the nightclub was being left to its own devices. The deed was still in her hand, having been claimed the time before when he had disappeared, and she did what needed to be done. She signed the checks, she put the profits back into the club, keeping some in a separate vault for Vito should he ever return. She did not make any changes to the club, distasteful as it was, except for one.

The upstairs rooms were still used for their intended purposes, bar two. Vito's room remained empty in case he ever returned, and the furthest room down the hall had been converted into the strangest room Jack had ever seen. The minibar still stood in its assigned corner next to the small, square window that led out to a fire escape. A round table had been brought in with comfortable chairs lining up around it. There was a bathroom, of course, and if anyone bothered to check the closet, they would find a pull out cot. Daily Prophet articles had been pinned on the walls.

It was temporary, of course. Jack hoped to find a much more permanent base that they would not be turned out of in the case of the return of an angry poltergeist.

Quitting the Order had given Jack very unexpected results. Though she still had a lot to plan in preparation for this meeting, and still had an inhuman amount of work before her, she had found a singular full night’s sleep had been granted to her in exchange for the release of power. She still worried about the Order, of course. Hallie meant well but she was young, and Matt had a tendency to disappear. But she knew it was in hands that had the intention to see them through to the end. Jack had long been too exhausted to manage the Order as well as she would have liked.

This was going to be different. Though she was the founding member, she hoped for equal weight from every person involved. She hoped it would turn into a brotherhood of sorts, in which no orders needed to be given, but in which teamwork carried them through. It might have been idealistic, but it was about time Jack hoped for something better than inane arguments and red tape that held everyone back from progress. And the team she had gathered was enough to inspire a little idealism in her.

She was not certain of whether or not Fred Weasley was coming, but she hoped to see him. She knew his work enough to know that, even when he talked through a task, he did it right. She thought he could definitely bring some strength to the team. Gabby was a given, with his criminal past and his abilities in dueling. She understood laziness might kick in but there was enough action to keep him interested she was certain. Robin Ivanov was an unfortunate byproduct of inviting Gabby, who had insisted he would be an asset. Jack was not certain she agreed, but she trusted Gabby enough to try. Kip had been chosen because, in bonding with her newly discovered half-brother, she found that he was possibly one of the most brilliant men she had ever met. Matthew Lestrange, long time partner in crime had been a necessary addition. And Frank Longbottom had been one of the few at the last Order meeting to instill any belief in her that there was indeed hope for their society. His letter had been sent without hesitation.

Now she sat in one of the chairs, nursing a rum and coke. A deep breath filled her chest and tumbled out. She was ready to finally make a difference.

For a long while, the letter had been left closed, the seal still whole, to bake in the sunshine streaming in through the windows. After it had been opened it had been hastily shoved into a kitchen drawer, conflicting emotions welling up within the stomach of Frank Longbottom. His hands had shaken uncontrollably thereafter, seeing him get sent home from Quidditch practise. He had sat in his living room that afternoon with a pot of tea and a packet of biscuits. After decimating the biscuits he’d gotten up and gone for a run but ended up walking back and a similar routine was followed the subsequent days until he found himself walking through Diagon Alley to the adjoining dark magic quarter and to Satan’s nightclub.

Swallowing, Frank righted the flannel shirt he wore and walked up boldly to the bouncer, announcing in a half-hushed tone that he wished to see Jack Dyllan. He was let through and then he found himself surrounded by the writhing figures of the clubbers. He steeled himself against it and hurried through, ascending the stairs to the room where he found Jack sat alone. A waitress, scantily clad of course, passed him, inquiring if he wanted a drink and Frank shook his head resolutely before shouting after her, asking for a glass of water. She nodded, laughing a little and disappeared back down the stairs, leaving him to go inside.

“Jack?” He inquired shyly. “What… I mean,” Frank swallowed again. The waitress returned, handing him a tall glass of sparkling water. He drank it greedily, quickly, before moving over to take a seat. “Is this the way it’s going to be, then?” he aimed to clarify. “Like… oh, I don’t know. How’re you?”

The note from Jack had sparked interest in his mind when he found it in his mailbox. It had been the first time Jack had communicated with him since their reunion about a week ago. However it didn't stop him from having an internal struggle about going or not. He did not know what was so serious she couldn't just tell him in person or even a phone call. He knew Jack was familiar with the muggle tradition of a phone call. Matt himself had bought a cell phone during his time abroad. Or rather a series of cell phones. After much debate and drinking he decided he would show up to see what Jack's plan was. So on the Thursday requested, Matt dawned his most traditional outfit and apparated to Knockturn Alley.

As he appeared with a crack in the middle of the murky alley he looked around. He hadn't been to Knocturn Alley in a year. Everything was as terrible as the day he had left. The ground was disgusting and the glass windows in the shops were uncleaned. He grimaced as he wondered about the state Satan's would be in. He had been to Satan's before. But that was during its golden years where it was a busy pub owned by a poltergeist. Victor? Venus? Vito? He couldn't remember the name of the bugger who had owned it. But he did know that he hasn't been seen since he himself had left on his escapade. He shrugged and made his way down the dingy street towards the dingy bar.

"Jack Dyllan." he said forcefully without looking at the bouncer or stopping his walk. He had made it to the bar and waltzed right on in. He was met with a shock, Satan's had become more club than bar and it was busy. He pushed his way through the crowed towards the stairs that would lead him to where Jack was. However he stopped at the bar and ordered himself a scotch and soda. "Thanks love." he said to the bartender as he put some money on the counter. He turned away and walked up the stairs and down the hall to the room. The room where Jack was going to be sitting. Suddenly his cool exterior crumbled and he was visibly shaking. His face was pale and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Okay Matt, it's just Jack. Things will be back to normal soon enough. You really didn't expect things to be all spiffy jiffy normal RIGHT when you got back did you? Well you did, but you're an idiot so just go in there and deal with the situation."

He opened the door with a little more force than he was expecting and was met with a surprise. He was not the only one there. He knew the face and he knew the name. He didn't know the man. Frank Longbottom was here too. This wasn't some weird arrangement was it?

"Jack." he nodded to her and smiled slightly. He turned to Frank Longbottom and smiled again. "Not too sure if we know each other. Of course I know who you are." he said reaching out his hand for a shake. "I'm Matthew, Matthew Lestrange."

Frank came in, but was quickly interrupted by the waitress. Of everyone, Frank probably seemed like the strangest choice. He was the most mild, for even Kip was known to break out and be a little crazy, and he seemed the least likely to get involved. Jack had been impressed with him so much through the Order, though, and she also helped his roots may factor in to his need to serve. He seemed completely unsure of what to ask so she smiled, hoping to relieve some of the tension. "I'm fine, thanks. Why don't you sit?"

They were relieved by the appearance of Matt Lestrange. Jack nodded back to him but was distracted by the appearance of a waitress at the door. The woman hurried in and handed Jack a folded piece of paper. She sat back a little and unfolded it.

Gabby Short and Kipling Parsons entered together. Kip had found Gabby at the bar, tracing circles on the arm of a young patron as he ordered her another drink, and had properly guessed that the man was probably included in this meeting.

"She was definitely into me - oh, whoa. People."

Gabby blinked around at those already gathered, his cocktail grasped loosely in his hand. He gave a flourishing bow, clinging to the drink, before straigtening up. "Gabby Short, at your service."

Kip glanced to Jack and the waitress. Jack whispered, "Thank you. Let no one else disturb us once our last guest joins us, thank you." The waitress hurried out and Kip closed the door behind her. He smiled to Jack, and then spread his gaze. "I believe I'm acquainted with Mr Lestrange." Jack scoffed - apparently everyone she knew had known of Kip's existence. "I'm Kip Parsons," he added, looking to Frank. He glanced to Gabby and gestured towards the chairs. "Come on, friend, let's sit."

Jack glanced around the table. "One of our party cannot making it. We're just waiting on the last - if he hasn't decide to spite me, that is." She shot Gabby a glare.

They say a woman decides whether or not she's going to sleep with a man within 5 minutes of meeting them. Of course that length of time is not nearly long enough in most men's opinions. Those men are called "pigs". However, Matt, who is far from a woman, was incredibly impressed with this Gabby Short character. Of course he had no intentions of sleeping with Gabby he was officially determined to get to know this man. He nodded to Kip and smiled, Kip had played a pretty important roll in Matt's life over the past year. But he had not exactly expected to see Kip at the meeting. So he was somehow linked to Jack, he had never mentioned her.

Matt had adopted the trait of leaning against walls. He seemed to prefer walls over chairs in most situations; he instinctively moved towards the area on the wall closest to Jack and leaned up against it. He was more unsure of everything now. He did not know anybody here personally besides Jack. And their friendship was still a little testy these days. He shook his head mentally and looked around the room once more, taking everything in. He did not really feel like waiting for another stranger however he would do it for Jack. He finished the last of his drink and immediately regretted it. He had now officially run out of things to write about do while he waited.

You would perhaps be inclined to forgive Frank Longbottom if you understood his family history for his first reflexive desire upon shaking the hand of Matthew Lestrange was to steal back the said hand and punch him square in the nose. However, years of being under the glare of the reporting world had led him to develop an uncanny ability to smile and express good intentions and part with kind words without so much as a second thought. It was natural – and all of it false.

“Nice to meet you,” he expressed – though that was genuine. Lestrange or not, Frank knew he must have been nothing like Bellatrix otherwise the man wouldn’t have been in the same room as supposed do-gooders. No, he wasn’t them. He had nothing to do with Rodolphus and Bellatrix – he didn’t ruin lives like they did even though they shared the same surname. So he’d forgive him. For now, perhaps.

Gabby Short. Kip Parsons. Frank felt as though he was back at Hogwarts joining a club for the first time with a room full of people in his year he didn’t know. The social anxiety returned with full force but there was nothing to be done about it. Frank smiled, shook hands, affirmed that it really was nice to meet them, and then returned to his seat and to his drink to listen to what was to be said – what was to be done.

This was nothing like playing Quidditch. This was so much different. This was serious this time. Completely, utterly, serious – and what a change it was indeed.

Robin really hadn't intended to be late. It had just sort of.. happened?

He had driven to the London house that morning, arriving in time to go out to lunch and take care of the miscellaneous bits and pieces of business that had a way of piling up the more time he spent out of town. Robin loved Ireland will all of his heart but he couldn't deny that life would be easier if the commute to London was a little bit shorter. Getting up to Quidditch practice (however infrequently he attended) was already a shocking hassle when you went by car.

After meetings Robin went out for a drink and, naturally, this drink had turned in to two and by golly before he knew it the time was dangerously close to 8:00 pm. He was always late. The constantly moving hands on his watch didn't really concern him. After all, it was only Jack Dyllan who had owled. And while a mysterious letter from a girl who made a point of contacting him no more than necessary was intriguing it wouldn't make him rush. In fact, at some point he made an effort to take as long as possible walking from one end of the underground station to the other.

Robin contemplated the note as he walked. The most interesting thing was possibly that she had thrown out Gabby's name. That disqualified Quidditch for the purpose of this meeting. Besides, Gabby and Jack weren't exactly best friends (it was one of the many things that had bonded the two men in their early acquaintance), why would she willingly put the two of them in a room together? Perhaps she was planning a double murder.

In all of his dealings with shady people Robin had never considered himself a shady man. Like much of the underworld he drank, smoked, gambled, and slept around but he preferred to do so in places that were much.. cleaner. Satan's was just a bit too dark for the young man's tastes and he only visited when invited by someone he couldn't refuse. Robin wouldn't have typically associated a place like this with Jack and it put a familiar spring in his step as he gave her name and moved past the bouncer.

Robin found the room without too much trouble and let himself in without question. He took a moment to survey the room in surprise as he acknowledged the variety and number of faces who were standing around the space. Even at a glance he recognized several. Jack of course. Gabby. Even Longbottom from the Wasps. And the others had familiar faces that he couldn't quite put a name to. Robin shut the door carefully behind him, taking a few strides into the space, greeting the crowd with a general "Evening, gentleman." before turning to face their host. "M'lady."

Robin Ivanov had showed up.

Jack looked around the room. Fred was not going to be here, but she knew he was with them and that she had his support. Here was Kip, her blood, and Gabby, her ally by association, and Matt, a long lost friend. Sure, Robin was not much too her, and though Frank was nearly a stranger, she knew his roots, and that mattered to her. The group before her instilled a sense of possibility in her not only because each of them inherently had abilities that could change their world, but because she knew they could all learn from each, all stand behind each other in a situation that called for support.

This is what this sort of thing was supposed to feel like. Not miserable, and hopeless. But as though they were possibly meant to be this group.

Jack drew in a breath. "You probably all knew that I was the leader of the Order of the Phoenix." One of the corners of her lips lifted in a half grin. "It's one of those worst kept secrets." She let out a single laugh, but it died in the air in front of her lips. She blinked. She had to say the words she had only told Max. The a Order had heard it but the words had been much more political, much more generic. "Well I've quit the Order."

Jack knew this was pretty big news. She had been the leader of the Order ever since Matt had disappeared, and she had been an active, trusted member for nigh on four years. It was the move of someone either desperate, exhausted, of with a plan. And Jack was a little bit of all three.

"I just, um..." She cleared her throat. Public speaking had never been... hard for her. But how many things had mattered this much to her? "I had something better in mind."

She was gaining courage now. She was Jack Dyllan, dammit. That had to mean something. "The Order can't stop people from hurting. They can't defend and recover, but they can't stop them. It goes against the creed and the motto. Well, my motto is to make the world less shitty than it was before me, and I want your help in that. All of your help. Even Short and Ivanov."

Right. They might not all know each other. She paused, and then introduced each of them, inclining her head towards each as she addressed them. "Gabby Short. He's a known burglar and hooligan, but he has connections, reach, and considerable dueling abilities. Kip Parsons. A mind for political strategy if I ever knew one, an accomplished dueler, and brain enough for four of us. Frank Longbottom. Hell, mate, I barely know you, but I know you can fight and think and you've seen how rotten this world can be. Ivanov, burglar extraordinaire, talkative prat, my personal nemesis, but he's not useless. Don't let it go to your head. Matt. I mean, he's done a little bit of everything. Politics, Order, so on, so on. Knows a little bit of everything and a little bit of everyone. Lastly, not present is Fred Weasley. He has a mind for magical mechanics, a strong arm, and a loud mouth." She smirked. "That's sort of a common tend though, isn't it."

So they knew a little bit about each other - or at least her judgements and perceptions of each of them. They'd get to know each other - if they trusted her enough to stay on, that was. "I wanted you all to help me protect our country. Our community. And not like the Order. The Order is not going to do anything against James Blood or Felix Barker until they strike again. I want to eliminate threats before they test us. I want us to be The Knight's Watch. Patrolling, gathering intelligence, combatting issues, promoting security and peace, and just doing some classic bad guy ass kicking."