Uprooted and Upheld Part Two (Inception/HP, Arthur/Eames, Big Bang)

[crytam]

Uprooted and Upheld - Part Two

 Part One

The long flight turns into a short flight when Yusuf gets control over everyone’s drinks and slips a few sleeping pills in so he can run his experiments. Apparently, he has now created a specific pill that does not allow the subject to dream, but does put the subject to a deep sleep where spoken demands are followed without much question. The ‘kick’ was synchronized with the smell of beef.

Ariadne looks less than thrilled when she wakes up in the bathrooms with her head in the sink; Saito looks interested at the possibilities; but all Arthur can think about is how Yusuf is a creepy asshole who has way too much time on his hands when he wakes up with his head under Eames’ armpit. Cobb is not too happy when he wakes up either, because his shoes are off and both of his feet are in the airplane dinner. As punishment, Yusuf gets stuck gathering the luggage on a large trolley and pushing it around out to the entrance of the airport, where a large limousine waits for them.

“Fancy.” Yusuf observes, when they’re inside the sleek, leather interior equipped with a wine bar and three televisions, needless of the numerous irritated glares (and one squint) aimed towards him. “What? It’s fancy.”

“No one wants to know what you think,” Arthur thinks he hears Cobb mutter underneath his breathe.

“The Leaky Cauldron,” Saito tells his driver when they’re all settled.

“Yes, sir.”

Arthur’s mom calls less than five minutes into the ride. The call surprises Arthur, because his mother has never called to his cell phone before.

“Hello?” He ignores the curious looks from the others.

“Arthur, honey, where are you?”

“I’m,” Arthur says, “uh, on public transport.”

“But where?” She presses. Arthur shoots a look at Cobb, trying to convey ‘my mother is on the line and she wants to know where I am - assist! Assist!’

“In,” Arthur pauses. “Ohio.”

“Ohio? Uncle Sirius said you were in England. Are you lying to me?” Oh God, his mother sounds disappointed. Arthur’s face must show his panic, because Cobb reaches over and plucks his cell phone right out of his hand.

“Hello, Mrs. Trinne,” Cobb says smoothly. “Sorry to steal Arthur, but he and I are on a five month -“ Cobb clears his throat. “Sabbatical. What’s that? No, Arthur isn’t a teacher, but I am. Recently. Arthur is accompanying me.”

Cobb looks at Arthur and mouths, ‘is this phone important to you? To which Arthur shakes his head. He’s got all his contacts saved in five different electronic devices, four of which are hidden in three apartments he’s rented over America.

“I’m sure Arthur is in no danger,” Cobb says while rolling down a window. “We are simply exploring some ruins with other professionals at the moment.”

“Yes, Mrs. Trinne, I’ll send him back as soon as the trip ends - Oh God! Oh no! Arthur! Help! I’ve seemed to have tripped and am now tumbling down a steep incline, loosing my grip on your phone! Gahhhhh!” Cobb tosses the phone out the window, where the tires of a passing car promptly crush it.

“Okay,” Cobb says, resettling in his seat and loosening his tie. “I think we got her.” Arthur looks at him incredulously.

“A-are you high?” Ariadne asks him. Cobb looks at her quizzically. “Never mind.”

Arthur buries his face in his hands.

“Never use Ohio as an excuse for anything,” Cobb says sagely.

“There aren’t any fucking ruins in Ohio,” Arthur mutters.

“Just say you choked on dust and meant to say Vaphio,” Eames says. Arthur gives him a look.

“You know, in Greece-“ Eames says.

“I know it’s in Greece!”

=====

About an hour later, due to complications and a bathroom break because yes, Yusuf had indeed drunk the free Champagne glass again, they arrive at Charing Cross Road at one in the afternoon.

When Arthur get out of the car, Cobb immediately starts chatting to him.

“So, how was your time off, Arthur?” Cobb asks. He’s giving Arthur that Cobb squint, which means that he intends on hearing Arthur’s answer.

“Well, it was fine as usual, Cobb. In fact, didn’t I spend -“

“Yes, yes,” Cobb says quickly, “you spent two weeks of it with me, Philippa, and James. By the way, how are your studies?”

“My… studies?” Arthur asks, taken aback. Why would Cobb be interested in his studies?

“Yes, your studies. Didn’t you say you were taking an online course in law or something similar?”

“Well, I did. But my professor caught malaria in Indonesia and the course was cancelled.”

“Shame, shame,” Cobb says, before looking away a little bit. It gives Arthur time to hear snippets of what the others are saying.

“Well, those are the differences between Japanese and America culture,” Ariadne says to Saito heatedly. “Here, you can’t expect a girl to just wear a pretty dress and stay in the house all day. They are doers! Thinkers! Movers! They aren’t just going to all stay at home and let the men do all the work!”

“My new compound is great,” Yusuf says to Eames, “it’s a mixture of chlorine and - well, I’m not sure you’d be able to understand.”

“Well, try at least, man! I can’t bloody well understand if you never explain.”

“Alright. I used -“

“Arthur,” Cobb’s voice pulls Arthur’s attention back. “What are you doing after this job?”

“After this job?” Arthur repeats as they cross another street.

“Yes, after this job.”

“I haven’t given much thought to it,” Arthur says, wondering just why Cobb is suddenly so interested in him. It’s not that he hasn’t had a bit of a father-son relationship with Cobb ever since their third job together, it’s that the questions are odd and a little too intimate.

“Well, maybe you should,” Cobb says, “I think you have a great future ahead of you.”

Arthur sputters silently to himself for a while, because Cobb is not one to say praise, except to his children. Cobb nods approvingly, Cobb gives the ‘I like this’ Cobb squint, but Cobb does not sing the praises of others. Altogether, it is very strange, and Arthur is off-balance
Cobb continues to talk about almost everything: their last job, Arthur’s attire, Arthur’s family, what they should eat the next time they go for lunch. Ariadne and Saito, Yusuf and Eames keep on chatting excitedly, too. He's only starting to create a list of mental illnesses Cobb might have when he realizes that he's in a deserted pub, crowded together awkwardly with the rest of the team with no recollection of how they got from Charing Cross Road to wherever they are.

Arthur would turn right around and look for any noticeable landmarks so that he can find his way back if need ever be, but Cobb places a firm hand on his shoulder preventing that.

“Hannah?” Eames calls out loudly, startling a few mice on the dusty floors into a scramble, which further sets off more frantic squeaking as dozens of mice scamper to find safe hiding places.

There is no answer, and the dust settles down in the wake of all the rodent movement. Arthur can practically feel the walls trembling with movement, so he steps forward a little, right between the wall of Cobb, Saito, and Eames, and the scattered duo of Yusuf and Ariadne. The pub is deserted, but it wasn’t the normal ‘today is Tuesday and people usually don’t drink today, therefore the pub will be deserted’ kind
of deserted, it was a complete ‘no one has lived here in at least seventeen years’ deserted.

There are broken glass shards on the floor, littered around planks of wood from the dusty counter and askew stools. The glass panes near the wine cellar are clogged up with dust and soot. There is a dank smell in the air, like a large amount of water had been dumped on the ground. Another sort of coppery smell lies underneath, and Arthur doesn’t want to think about the cause of that one.

What looked like they used to be curtains are now just tattered shreds of cloth, hanging from bars, some of which have been unhinged and thrown on the floor. The tables are knocked over as well, and the light barely shines in through the windows.

“Hannah?” Eames calls out again, even more loudly. “It’s me! It’s Eames!”

Again, there is no answer, and just as Arthur is prepared to chew Eames out for wrong information again, the sound of a door slamming open comes from nowhere, causing Ariadne to shriek a little in surprise.

“Eames, is that you?” A woman’s voice whispers.

“Of course it’s me! I called you barely two minutes ago!”

“Well yes, but they use voice-shifters and it’s getting hard to trust technology these days…”

“Well hurry up, then! We don’t have all day!”

A door shuts loudly, and then another door opens, this time out of the wall of the second floor.

“That’s no way to talk to my wife,” a healthy, round-faced man said, “not when it’s Saturday, and we could leave you outside for all we care.”

“Now, now, Neville,” Eames says coaxingly, “we both know how much we need this place.”

“Alright, but treat my wife like she should be treated or else your breakfast tomorrow will fester. And I mean that literally.”

Bewildered, Arthur goes up steps that he hadn’t realized existed when they first walked in. In fact, it seems like the door had appeared out of thin air, right in the middle of the wall.

“Do hurry up darling,” Eames says from the front, which makes Arthur realize that he is indeed the only one who has not passed through the doorway. “We don’t have all day.”

=====

The second floor of the pub is markedly different from the first floor. The first floor was dead, full of dust and the faint smells of death and disuse, but the second floor is lively, full of color and warmth. The floors are carpeted, and the lights are on and Arthur thinks he can smell pumpkin pie everywhere.

“We’ve got many rooms,” Neville is saying, “char - uh, protected.”

Neville casts a look at all of them warily.

“Yes, protected,” Eames says, “go on.”

“Four rooms,” Neville goes on,” two to a room, and the two left get a room to themselves. Breakfast is served at eight, and always wake me up before you leave. For safety.”

“How do we leave, anyways? Ariadne asks. “Through the door we just came through?”

“No!” Neville yells before Ariadne can turn around to cast a look at the door. “No, not that door. Like I said, always wake me up before you leave so I can show you the correct exit.”

Neville shows them to their rooms after that. They are clean and orderly and nice and look just like the Holiday Inn rooms Arthur had been in on one of his first jobs. Almost too alike…

“Thanks Neville,” Eames says after they’ve all put their things down, “we need to be going out right now. The exit?”

“Right over here,” Neville says, leading them over to the other end of the hallway. He does a little funny jig around the door before he opens it, causing Ariadne to exchange a funny look with Cobb, who shrugs.

“Be careful,” Neville warns, looking straight at Eames. Eames nods, and leads them all to step outside of the pub through the back entrance.

=====

“Where are we?” Yusuf asks as they step out to a deserted alley end.

“Somewhere special,” Cobb answers. He, Saito, and Eames step forward to look at the bricks, while Arthur, Ariadne, and Yusuf hang back to look at each other uneasily. No one else is there, except for them. In fact, it seems like the only entrance into the alley is through the pub, which then leads to the question of how they got from the second floor of a pub to the lower streets.

“Three, three, two, three,” Cobb mutters, counting along the bricks along the left wall. “Three, three, two, th-Crap, I missed one.”

“Let me,” Eames says, “three, three, two three…” His finger stops on one brick.

“Alright, everyone stand back,” Eames says, waving his arms around behind him, nearly hitting Saito and Ariadne, both of whom have gotten too close in interest. “Turn around and close your eyes.”

“What?” Arthur asks.

“Turn around and close your eyes, darling,” Eames repeats, leaning in close to Arthur. “And when I say that again tonight, it’ll mean something completely different.”

“Eames, I don’t think -“

“You don’t have to right now,” Eames says, “let me do all the thinking. Just turn around and close your eyes, darling. Trust me.”

He looks straight into Arthur’s eyes, and Arthur does what he says, turning around like there’s a puppeteer leading his feet.

There’s another tap against the brick, and then they hear stone scrape against stone, then the bustling and the laughing and crying of people.

=====

“What is this?” Yusuf asks, looking at the place where the wall once was. In place of the wall, there is a street, lined on both sides by stores. There’s whirring, and glimmers of gold; there are children screaming, running around like they’re in someplace wonderful.

“I’ll explain later,” Eames says, walking straight up the line separating the alley from the new street. “For now, let’s go in.”

“But -“

“No buts, darling,” Eames says, “we’re taking a risk just coming here. Dawdling will do us no favors.” And the look that Cobb shoots him is the real reason why Arthur mills along with the rest of them to pass the line.

And then promptly wishes that he hadn’t when a dozen figures, each wearing a white robe with purple stripes up and down the sides, appear out of thin air and arms roughly seize and lift him off of the ground. Each person also wears a different mask, but they are all white as bone, with a ruby inset in the middle of the forehead, and smaller ones underneath each eye.

“Arthur, watch out!”

“What the-“

Arms grab Arthur everywhere, tearing him away from his companions.

“Arthur!” Cobb roars, grabbing a fistful of Arthur’s dress shirt. A bright jet of red light shoots past Arthur’s ear and hits Cobb, who falls to the ground unconscious.

“You will come with us,” one says in a deep, gravelly voice to Arthur, who struggles reach his gun. He pulls it out in a flash and points it at one of the figures, firing.

“Bloody hell, my knee!”

“Incarcerous,” multiple voices shout, and Arthur is wrapped in so many ropes that he almost can’t breath. Someone roughly grabs Arthur, and he feels like he’s being squeezed through a tight tube and -

=====

Just as quickly as they appeared, the figures disappear, taking Arthur with them and leaving behind nothing but Eames, Saito, Ariadne, and Yusuf staring in shock.

“Where did they go?” Ariadne asks, looking around. The people milling about stare at them and whisper behind their hands, but none of them are moving to call for help or anything.

“Bloody hell, they just disappeared,” Yusuf says.

“How do we get him back?” Ariadne asks, distressed. She turns to the rest of them. “What do we do?”

“Bloody hell,” Eames says, breathing heavily through his nose. “The bloody Iliads took Arthur.” He takes out a wooden stick, points it at Cobb, and says “Rennervate.” Cobb immediately regains consciousness, and stands up with the help of Eames.

Ariadne turns towards them in an angry flourish.

“That’s it,” she snarls, “you three,” the says, pinning Cobb, Saito, and Eames with a glare, “you will take Yusuf and I back to the pub and tell us everything.” Cobb, Saito, and Eames exchange uneasy looks, and Ariadne throws them a nasty glare.

“He’s not in any real danger -“ Eames starts.

“I don’t care!” Araidne yells. “We can’t just keep on taking jobs without knowing the risks! Last time it was Cobb and Mal, now it’s you and whatever the hell they were! Arthur just got-“

“Alright!” Cobb yells. “Alright! You think I don’t know what’s just happened! Damn it, Ariadne, I-“

“If I may,” Saito breaks in smoothly, actually grabbing them both by the shoulders and maneuvering them both to the entrance of Diagon Alley, “I believe a quiet location would be more suitable for this conversation.” And like that, Saito, clearly the most levelheaded of them all, leads them back to the Leaky Cauldron.

=====

“You thought you could hide something like this from us?” Ariadne asks. Her hands are still shaking, and to her side, Yusuf looks similarly angered. He is the drug man, someone who never has to be in the danger, but who sits outside, making sure that the sleepers don’t get harmed in the real world. To put a member of your team into a dangerous situation without warning them is one of the biggest sins in the dreaming business.

“Why didn’t you tell us you worked for the government?”

“It wasn’t necessary,” Eames says. “It was only a two-year mission to investigate muggle dreamshare technology, and use it to persuade Darkholme.”

“What do you mean it wasn’t necessary? The first thing you did was take us to a magic fucking marketplace, where Arthur gets kidnapped, and -“

“You two shouldn’t even know about this,” Eames says from his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. In the past hour, he had given them all the information they asked for - about the wooden sticks (“Wands,” Eames says), the fact that the Leaky Cauldron is magic, what Eames does for a living, and why Cobb knows all this (“Mal got a letter when she was eleven…”).

“Oh yeah, and ‘this’ that we’re not supposed to know about just got Arthur kidnapped,” Ariadne snaps.

“’This’ that took Arthur was one I never expected to see,” Eames says, looking frustrated, “that group is the Iliads, and -“ he stops there, unsure of what to say next.

“And?” Yusuf asks.

“Alright,” Eames says. “Alright.” He runs a hand through his hair. “There’s a war going on right now between us and the magical creatures, and -“

“What.” Ariadne says.

“A war,” Saito says. “They want to destroy this world as revenge for centuries of exploitation and enslavement.”

“And it would be a noble crusade,” Eames says, “if only they were targeting those who wronged them. But that’s just it; they’re attacking every woman, every man, every child. Anyone magical is being destroyed. They want creature dominance.”

“Anyone without creature blood?” Yusuf questions. “And that would include…?”

“Anyone who’s not part of the vampires, werewolves, goblins, hags, elves, giants, and so on,” Cobb speaks for the first time. Yusuf stares at him in wonder.

“Yes, well, we’re not at war with all of the first group,” Eames says, rubbing the spot between his eyes again, “at least, not yet.”

“That’s why I have hired you,” Saito says. “I have a… sustained interest in the continuation of the magical world. A vampire coven with considerable power lies near the north, teetering on the edge of the sides. Ambrose Darkholme is the new leader.”

“His coven is the only one who has not yet joined the magical creatures in their crusade yet. This job is to incept Ambrose with the idea that he must help magical humans instead of join the magical creatures,” Eames explains.

“So what, we were supposed to go into his mind before you told us about all this?” Ariadne cries in disbelief. Her temper and Irish roots show through the ruddy color of her face and the way her fists clench like they’re itching to get around the British man’s neck.

“It was supposed to be simple,” Cobb says, looking at the ground, “we go in, instill in him a love for all humans and a thirst for equality, then we get out and fade into the normal world again.”

“Oh, such good logic. I believe we have the next Mr. President on our hands,” Yusuf mutters.

“I can’t believe you guys!” Ariadne all but shouts. “You put the three of us into a situation that we have no control of or knowledge about and you expect things to be fine? And now Arthur is gone, and you!” She turns, pointing an accusatory finger at Eames. “You still haven’t explained who the fucking Iliads are and why they took Arthur!”

“I don’t know why they took Arthur!” Eames roars, and suddenly their cups on the table crack and break and several tables are pushed back by a gust of wind. The lights flicker on and off, and they hear things breaking and crashing throughout the pub.

“Hey, hey!” Neville yells, flying down the stairs. “Quiet down!” He takes out a stick of wood and waves it, muttering under his breath and just like that, everything quiets down. No one says anything, because something about the way that Neville looks around in fear and half-anger makes everyone all shut up.

“Eames,” he says after a while, “put a tighter leash on that magic or I will put a leash on it for you. Times are dangerous enough as it is, and you can’t draw attention to us like this.” Eames looks ashamed, but he still looks angry at the same time.

“Sorry, Neville,” he says gruffly. Neville just rolls his eyes and goes back up the stairs.

“Hannah and I were just getting to the good part,” they think they hear Neville muttering before the door shuts closed. Yusuf realizes that the stairs aren’t there anymore.

“I don’t know why they took Arthur,” Eames says again, this time in a hushed tone, sitting down on a chair that has just reassembled itself.

“The Illiads are a group of purebloods - that’s wizards who haven’t married with Muggles, or people like you. They’re in this war on our side, but somehow got the notion that a whole pureblood army would be much more powerful than a mixed one.”

“What does this have to do with Arthur?” Ariadne asks.

“That’s the mystery,” Cobb says. “When Arthur came to me and Mal, he had no idea of the Wizarding world. Seriously. Mal tested him, too, by literally floating a brick in front of him in plain view. He balked, and Mal had to confound him to make him believe that we were in a dream and it was all just a trick of the mind.”

“Based on my research,” Saito says, “the Illiads shouldn’t be interested in Arthur at all. He shouldn’t even be on their radar, much less trigger the pureblood monitor they had installed at the entrance we passed…”

“Does this really matter?” Yusuf asks. “They have Arthur, that’s all we have to know, isn’t it? What does it matter that Arthur may be - what was it - pureblood? They took Arthur, and now we need him back. Let’s go get him.”

“God, Yusuf,” Eames says, breathing heavily through his nose. “It’s not that easy. They’re all purebloods. The ministry doesn’t want to interfere, especially when they’re not violent at all. What they did today - it never happens at all. They're sure to come up with reasons and excuses for why they did it."

“So what are you saying? Ariadne asks in a way that suggests she’s actually demanding something. “We should just abandon Arthur?”

“No!” Eames shouts. “Of course - I would never do that. But at least I know that they won’t hurt him. They’re under Ministry protection, so they can’t break any laws, and -“

“That not good enough!” Ariadne shouts. “He’s Arthur. You know we can’t do a damn thing without him.”

“I can’t do anything regardless! I’m bound by laws here - laws that I wasn’t bound to in America! You don’t understand.” Eames swallows the lump that’s forming in his throat. “No matter how much I want Arthur back, the Illiads are a legitimate government group, and I just can’t do anything.”

“Bullsh-“

“I will find the location of the Illiads so that we can take back Arthur,” Saito says, interrupting Ariadne. They all turn to look at him. “I have contacts here who can detect their location. But your job now is to incept Ambrose.” Saito rises from his chair. “Lives are at stake. Please do not forget that.” He walks out of the pub.

Ariadne gazes accusingly at Eames and Cobb.

“Arthur won’t be hurt,” Eames says again, fingers around his Auror badge in his pockets to remind himself that he’s got a important job. “Let’s, let’s rest for the night and continue tomorrow. Arthur is important, but we’ve got a job to do, and if we don’t do this job right, it’ll be mass genocide.”

“Wait, where are you going?” Cobb says when Eames heads to the door instead of the second floor, which has been charmed open. Ariadne and Yusuf have already gone up and into their rooms.

“I said that the Illiads wouldn’t hurt Arthur,” Eames says. “I’m going to make sure that it’s true." As he leaves, there's a sinking feeling in his gut that comes with the realization that he could have already missed his chance to tell Arthur

======

Arthur has been having  First of all, he woke up to find Eames’ stupid face outside of his door. Then, he was shoved on a very uncomfortable flight to England, on which Eames would not stop staring at him. Then, after arriving in England, they were taken to a dingy, abandoned pub. To top it all off, he had just been kidnapped by a bunch of strange people wearing white and purple dresses and masks, shoved into a telephone booth, and is now sitting in a richly-decorated room.

He’s also tied down to a chair, with the very people who kidnapped him flanking him. .

What the fuck was his life.

“Sorry, Mr. Black,” a man says to his left. “When we got the signal that you were in Diagon Alley, we had to appear as soon as possible.”

“What?” Arthur asks.

“If we didn’t,” the man says, “the creatures could have gotten to you first.”

“What?”

“Oh dear,” a woman says from behind him, “we didn’t accidentally hit his head when we got down here, did we? Can you remember your name, dear?”

“I’m not telling you my name until you tell me what’s going on,” Arthur practically growls out. Then he takes a good second look. The dresses are gone, and replaced by sensible-looking suits. The masks are gone as well, and have been replaced by relatively clean-cut faces. It’s like being in the Twilight Zone, how such strange and cultish figures can turn into the kind of people that Arthur regularly works with.

“Haven’t you been following the news, boy?” Another gruffer voice says to his right. Arthur turns to look at the voice and finds a stocky, middle-aged man. “We’re at war! It’s ministry policy to make sure all the purebloods are accounted for.”

“Even if Minister Shacklebolt disagrees,” the woman says, shaking her head.

“Why am I here?” Arthur demands. “What do I have to do with purebloods?”

“You are a pureblood,” someone from behind him says, and when Arthur cranes his neck so far that it hurts, he sees an African man wearing a purple dress walking towards them.

“Minister,” the others say, bowing or nodding to him. The minister, apparently, walks over to the desk and sits down in a chair. He surveys Arthur.

“Why is he tied down to that chair?” He asks, voice rumbling throughout the room. The man who had spoken to Arthur first steps forward, clearing his throat.

“He was very unwilling to come with us at first,” he says, “we were afraid that once he woke up he was going to hex us, and that would be a breach of Ministry Code 430.5d, which would force us to charge him.”

“Untie him,” the Minister commands, and his order is quickly followed. Arthur feels the ropes loosen around his wrists and is finally able to tug the forward, rubbing at them lightly to get the circulation back. His hand immediately goes down to the back of his waistband. He pulls out his gun and points it at the minister.

“Alright,” he hisses,” you have five seconds to tell me what the hell is going on.” Arthur isn’t a fool. He was in the military for four years before Cobb and Mal found him, before he ran away with dangerous dream technology information memorized in his head. He’s been escaping the military ever since, making up names and dates and everything he could. It’s because of his experiences that right now, even though he has wooden sticks pointed at him, he stands his ground with a gun in his hand.

“Accio gun,” the minister says, and then Arthur’s gun flies out of his hands towards the minister, who catches it with his left hand and places it down next to him. Arthur doesn’t miss a beat. He lunges towards the minister, intending on a physical fight.

“Incarcerous!” The minister says, and then Arthur is tied up all over again.

“Well, I see that the ropes were necessary,” the minister says. “My apologies, Mr. Black, but we really must get down to business. Do you know why you are here today, Mr. Black?”

“No,” Arthur says, reeling a little from the revelation that holy shit, what just happened and fuck, he’s got my gun. “And why are you calling me Mr. Black? What the fuck just happened, where’s the rest of my team --” Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at the room trying to find a way out that makes the minister say:

“Mr. Black, I assure you,” he says in a reassuring, calm voice, “we are not here to hurt you. In fact, we are here to help you.”

“I don’t trust you,” Arthur says bluntly, never one to mince words. He is unarmed, sitting in a room full of people who can do … whatever the hell happened to his gun and no one can forget that he had just been kidnapped and separated from his companions.

“You don’t have to trust us,” the Minister says, looking faintly amused, “you only have to listen.” Arthur doesn’t respond, because what can he say? What can he do?

“I am Kingsley Shacklebolt,” the man in front of him says, “the Minister of Magic.”

“Minister of Magiiiic,” Arthur thinks he hears someone signing opera-style behind him softly, but he doesn’t turn around.

“Now to answer you question about why we are calling you Mr. Black,” the minister says, “you are Arthur Black, are you not? Son of Regulus Arcturus Black and Jennifer Gray Trinne.”

“How did you know that,” Arthur asks, suspicious. He never met his father before, only knowing his name through his mother and Sirius. He has never heard the name from anyone other than the three of them, and his father’s life has never interfered with his own.

“Magic,” the Minister says, and he smiles like he’s sharing a private joke. “As the son of Regulus Arcturus Black, you belong to the House of Black, and therefore are under the protection of the Ministry as part of the Pureblood Protection Act.”

“House of Black?”

“Well, Regulus Arcturus Black was the only son of Orion Black, and you are his only offspring. There is no other Black male ready to take the house name other than you.” He ends there, looking at Arthur expectantly, but Arthur’s mind is a whirlwind of activity.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Arthur says. “I don’t even know you people! How did you do that to my gun and how did we get here through a phone booth?” Now instead of shocked silence from him, there is a sense of shock from everyone around him.

“Oh dear,” a woman says from behind him. The Minister frowns as if Arthur has said something terribly wrong.

“Tell me,” the Minister says, leaning forward, “how much do you know about the affairs of the Wizarding world?”

“Wizarding world?” Arthur repeats in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? Magic isn’t real!” There is stifled chortle from behind him that is quickly cut off when the Minister shoots a sharp look in that direction.

“Yes, wizarding world,” the Minister says. “I assure you, magic is quite real. See?” He pulls out his wooden stick again and flicks it, muttering a "Lumos." The end of the stick lights up.

“What-“ he starts.

“Y-you really know nothing, do you?” Shacklebolt said. The frown deepens and lines appear on his forehead. “When the aurors found you, I thought that you had been raised away from the Wizarding world, but I never expected you to not know anything.”

“Hey,” Arthur says, offended a little even though there are very obviously bigger things in motion.

“Indeed,” the Minister says, opening drawers left and right. The people who kidnapped Arthur move about the room as well, looking for something.

“It was odd when you never appeared on any school’s mailing list,” Shacklebolt says, “and a locator charm never worked on you - but the second one never worked for most of your relatives as well, so it was not uncommon.”

“Locator charm?” Arthur asks. Kingsley shoots him a look that would be sharp on any other man, but on him looked like a slow assessing look.

“We’ll get into that later,” he says, “anyone find the book yet?”

“No,” the whole room answers. Arthur just keeps on looking from side to side, trying to keep his eyes on anyone and everyone at the same time. The Minister sighs.

“I believe I will have to have another word with Glimmens,” he says, frown lines appearing once more on his face. “But fortunately for us - and you,” he adds as an afterthought, “we have just the person to introduce you to our world.” The Minister taps his wand against his desk. There is a sharp crack! Sound and then a bushy-haired woman appears in front of the desk, not even stumbling as she appeared out of thin air.

“Yes, minister?” The woman says, picking out nonexistent dust from her pant-suit. She takes a look at Arthur curiously, and there’s a look in her eyes like she already knows what the Minister wants her for, but she doesn’t want to make guesses.

“Auror Granger,” he says, “this is Arthur Black, son of Regulus Arcturus Black.” The woman - Granger - looks at him surprised. Her eyes are wide and after she takes in the sight of Arthur, she turns back to the Minister with an incredulous noise.

“His mother was a squib,” the Minister says, "I had thought that Regulus had taken measures to insure his son grew up the magical way, but apparently his mother thought that it would be better for him to grow up in the Muggle world.”

“Oh!” Granger gives. Arthur can see from his vantage point that she’s trembling, almost shaking, in excitement. It makes him nervous. “Oh! I never knew that there was a Black heir!”

“Yes,” the Minister agrees, “but here he is, and he needs to be introduced to this world. Auror Granger, if you would?”

“Oh!” Granger says, surprised. It’s a sound of recognition, and what the Minister wants her to do dawns on her. “Of course! And he will be living -“

“In the Pureblood Houses,” the Minister says with an apologetic tone, “as the law stipulates.”

“I understand,” Granger says, but there is a pause for a moment and when Arthur looks at them from where he is staring at the walls of the room trying to figure out how the woman got in, it’s like they’re having a private conversation with their eyes.

“Minister, the schedule-“ a man says from the side. Almost immediately, the Minister and Granger look up, both making a tiny movement back as if they did something wrong. “Sorry to interrupt,” the man says apologetically, “but we really must get him situated at the Houses.”

“Of course,” the Minister says, “but Auror Granger will have to introduce him to the world first, and -“

“Are you sure it has to be her?” the man interrupts unapologetically. “We have people down at the Houses who will be able to -“

“While I am sure that the Houses could inform Arthur about the Wizarding world,” the minister says, “none have had quite as much experience as Auror Granger in dealing with the Muggle world, and if we want Mr. Black to stay, Auror Granger would be our best bet.”

The man doesn’t say anything, but anyone walking past would be able to feel the tension in the air. Finally, the man nods, then raises a hand to signal to the others to move out.

“I leave our newest in your capable,” the man almost spits out the last word, “hands, Granger.” Granger does not reply, but her eyes watch him warily as he and all the others depart.

Finally, the door shuts, and the three of them are left alone in the room. The Minister looks around the room cautiously as if he expects someone to still be there, staying behind to observe them further. Taking out his stick (wand, Arthur’s mind says spitefully. Magic, hah!) he waves it a couple times, whispering incantations as he goes. After a few minutes pass, he is satisfied and lays his wand down.

“This is Sirius’ nephew,” Granger says excitedly. “Oh, Harry would be -“

Arthur’s eyes widen at the mention of his uncle’s name. What does Sirius have to do with anything?

“Harry would not be anything,” Shacklebolt says. “He does not have any relation, or recollection, of Sirius Black at all.”

Wait, what? Arthur thinks to himself.

“No one but you and I in this world do. Keep that in mind, Hermione.”

“Of course I remember, it’s just that -“ Granger stops herself, looking off towards the side and biting her lower lip.

“I do wish we could have called Mr. Potter,” Shacklebolt says, talking to Arthur now. Arthur registers a change of tone from when there were others in the room. It’s warmer now, although it is nearly indiscernible because the Minister’s voice is just that low and level. “He would have been excited to meet you, Mr. Black.”

Arthur doesn’t say anything, the events in the last half-hour rendering him very confused.

“I’ll leave you two to it, then,” the minister says, standing up. “I’ve got matters to tend to with the Muggle Minister. You two can stay here and discuss.”

“Yes, Minister,” Granger says. Arthur can barely hear the two of them speaking, he’s too busy looking at his gun on the Minister’s table to be bothered. “I’ll make sure that he learns about the Wizarding world properly.”

“Properly,” the Minister repeats. “Of course, Mrs. Granger.” The door shuts behind him, and Granger stares at it for a while before redirecting her attention to Arthur.

“Well, I haven’t seen one of these in a long time,” Granger says, picking up the gun on the Minister’s desk.

“Glock 17,” she says contemplatively, “a good choice - for a law enforcement officer. Reliable, too.” She sets the gun aside and turns towards a silent, fuming, and fastened Arthur.

“What is it that you do, Arthur Trinne?” She asks, arms set down to her sides. Calm, attentive, Arthur’s mind supplies from his course in psychology. Dominating, controlling. Arthur doesn’t say a thing.

“My guess is something illegal,” she says, sniffing like it’s something to be looked down upon.

And she’s the one who tied me up, Arthur thinks.

“But we’ll get into that later,” Granger says, “I am Hermione Granger, in the department of Magical Law Enforcement. I was raised in the muggle world, just like you, so I am best prepared to introduce you to wizard life. Welcome to the wizarding world, Arthur.”

=====

The sky is black by the time that Eames reaches the Ministry, which means that the streets are devoid of people, as the suggested curfew has been set at six. In sharp contrast, the Ministry is bustling.

As it is with every war, every Auror and Ministry official stays in the office morning to night, some even sleeping in their offices. Eames runs into people left and right, stopping once in a while to chat with those he’s more familiar with. Finally, he reaches the Head of the Auror Department’s office.

“Auror Eames,” he announces his presence. “Inquiring.” Eames speaks to a large black chair facing the wall. Eames has been an Auror long enough to remember the last head of the Auror department, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and even though Shacklebolt had become the new Minister of Magic, the Auror department ran strong under Harry Potter.

In two years, the Auror department had become much more efficient. Potter had reorganized most sub-divisions, and had conducted corruption tests to oust those who were still sympathetic to Voldemort’s aims, and who could not be persuaded otherwise.

Things were… interesting under Potter, to say the least. In contrast to Shacklebolt’s office, Potter’s was much more personal, filled with pictures of his family, war memorabilia, and other things that represented his life. The first thing that anyone noticed walking into his office, however, was the lack of awards framed on the wall. For his actions in the war, Potter had received an endless number of awards, so many that most would be proud to mount on the walls.

They were instead located near a corner, where cabinet shadows covered them and hid them.

There is no response to Eames’ announcement. He clears his throat.

“Eames, inquiry.”

The door opens from behind him.

“Oh Merlin,” a voice says, and then Harry Potter himself comes barreling in. “I’m sorry, there was a fire down in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and some hippogriffs found their way through the barriers.” He brushes at the chicken feathers decorating his black robes.

“I can’t figure out how they got there,” he mumbles to himself, throwing himself into his black chair, swiveling it around to meet Eames.

“Eames!” He says. “It’s been a while. How’s the Darkholme mission going?”

“Fine,” Eames says. “The inception will take place in about two days. But-“

“Good,” Harry says. “The sooner, the better. We’ve had twelve attacks in the past three days, and they’ve been getting stronger.”

“Harry,” Eames says. Harry looks up at the use of his first name. “Do you know Arthur Black?”

“Ah, yes,” Harry says, “he was brought in a few hours ago. Hermione debriefed him, and then the Illiads took him.” The name of the Illiads is spoken with slight distaste.

“Do you know where he is?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Harry says, “that’s classified information.”

“Do you know how he’s doing?”

“No,” Harry says, flipping around on the papers on his desk. He stops and looks up at Eames. “Did you know him personally?”

Eames casts a silencing charm on the room quickly. Seeing that, Harry presses a bauble on his desk that releases a high-pitched shriek before quieting.

“Has all the silencing charms in existence,” Harry explains at Eames’ questioning look. “George and Ron developed it a few weeks ago. One touch and the whole room is protected.”

“I,” Eames starts, “I brought a team of muggle dream experts with me to incept Darkholme.”

“You what.”

“Listen, I took all the necessary precautions,” Eames says quickly, “two already knew about the magical world, and the other three were always watched and kept close.” Harry rubs at the bridge of his nose, glasses in one hand.

“Eames,” he says, “I’m sure you know about the consequen-“

“I know,” Eames says. “But still, I don’t understand why the Illiads want Arthur. He’s a muggle.”

“No, Eames,” Harry says. “He’s not. He’s the son of Regulus Arcturus Black.”

“He’s the Black Heir?” Eames says incredulously. Harry gives a small smile.

“I know, right? Hiding in muggle America for twenty-nine years. The Illiads are unbearably happy about it.”

“B-but he doesn’t even know about magic! How can they just take him like that?” Eames shouts.

“We are at war,” Harry says, “a war in which a large proportion of us might die. The public, in reverse nine years ago, now wants to preserve purer bloodlines so that in the event that there is genocide, the wizarding world can reconstruct using the strongest -“

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Eames cuts in. “Auror Granger is muggle-born, and she’s one of the most -“

“I don’t make these rules, Eames,” Harry says loudly. “Look, I- do you want a lemon drop?”

“No I do not want a lemon drop,” Eames hisses. “Harry, we need Arthur!”

“Well, I can’t just take him away from the Illiads. How can I justify that - the Illiads don’t know about the Darkholme mission. Very few do.”

“At the very least, don’t you have any clue where he is or how he’s doing?”

“They can’t abuse him,” Harry says with the faintest bit of annoyance, “there are laws against that.”

“But -“

“Draco is with them,” Harry says. “I’ll ask him about Black, okay? But don’t expect a reply too soon.” There is a loud crash from behind him, outside on the streets, and when Harry swivels around in that chair of his, Eames knows that the matter is closed. Especially when blood splatters spectacularly across the window.

“Thanks, Harry,” Eames says. “I’ll be back in a day or two with news about -“ He is cut short when the screams of wizards and witches pierce the air and Harry stands up quickly.

“Another werewolf pack,” he says, searching his pockets for something. “Two days, got it. No problem.” He pulls out his hand and reveals a small circular object, encased in spikes. Opening his window, he throws it out. A loud explosion follows soon after.

“Should I?” Eames asks, hand already reaching for his own wand. Harry shakes his head.

“No, don’t bother,” Harry says, “Hermione’s already down to try talking to them, and there are twenty Aurors, besides. Ball was just for paralysis.”

“Alright, then. Goodbye.” Eames turns and heads for the door.

“See you soon,” Harry says as Eames’ hand touches the doorknob. “If I’m not torn apart before then.”

Part Three