A meeting in London
At precisely 7pm on Saturday, the Marquis was sitting in the Hand and Shears waiting for his new contact. He kept himself to himself, sitting in a secluded corner of the bar and projecting, "I don't want to talk to you" at anyone who approached.
He wasn't going to have to wait long. There was something about flying brooms that didn't sit well with John Constantine, and the dislike was mutual, so he'd arranged from alternate transportation from Hogsmeade to London. Not for the first time, he found himself looking up as he approached and wondering what the hell had happened in this universe to make London turn out so. . . clean. As there was no answer forthcoming, he flicked the ashes off the end of yet another conjured cigarette, stepped through the pub door, and looked around.
The Marquis spotted him as soon as he walked in, less from his appearance, though he'd obtained a full description of Constantine from others, as from the air of understated power about him. Letting his air of unapproachability drop, he straightened slightly and waited for the man to notice him.
Just as John realised he had very little to go on in the way of a description, he felt something about the air of the place waver. That wasn't natural. He glanced over the crowd again- there, in the back, the dark fellow with expectant eyes. Hadn't seen him before; that made him the likeliest candidate. Skirting around one of the larger patrons, he made his way towards the other man's table.
The Marquis nodded a greeting as John approached, with a faint smile. "You'll be Constantine, then."
"And you," John answered, "would be the Marquis, right? That, or someone he's sent with a message..."
The Marquis smiles more widely. "The man himself. Please, sit down."
John nodded, dropping unceremoniously into a seat opposite the Marquis. "Nice to meet you," he said. "Congratulations. You're the first person who's admitted to knowing me since I arrived."
The Marquis raised an eyebrow. "Arrived in this dimension? That does surprise me. I would have thought some here would be pleased to acknowledge you."
John grunted. "'s possible, but if they're here I haven't been able to turn 'em up. Other than that one bloke who contacted me a little after I first heard from you, name of Mike."
The Marquis files that information away for future consideration. "Who was he, then?"
"Dunno. Never met him before. Knew about-" He hesitated. "Newcastle, though, so he's got to have a line out to someone."
The Marquis was clearly aware of the significance of Newcastle, but let the subject drop. "Could be a large proportion of the magical community. Events on that scale make waves."
John nodded. "Suppose so. Got decent taste in liquor, too. . . speaking of which." The sooner the subject was left behind, the better, and he hadn't ordered his first drink yet. He dug about in his pockets until he located his supply of real money. The word 'muggle' grated on his nerves too much to use casually, no matter who he was working with.
The Marquis waves his money away. "Please. I arranged the meeting, the first drink at least should be on me."
At that, John smiled a bit. He nodded and tucked the stuff away. "Thanks. The goblins charge a hell of an exchange rate."
The Marquis chuckled and signalled to the barman. "Does teaching pay well in any case?"
"Well enough. I get fed and housed as part of the deal, so as long as I do the job an' don't get seen doing anything that breaks my contract, it's up to me what to do with the gold. Working on a nice little library at the moment." It was true, much as he hated to admit it. The work itself was easy, once he'd got the hang of dealing with the little snots. It was the feeling of being on someone else's leash that got up his nose.
"What sort of thing would break your contract?" the Marquis asked curiously as the barman arrived to see what they wanted.
"Well, this, for one thing," John said, waving the remains of his fag. He stubbed it out; it promptly vanished. He looked up at the barman. "Scotch'd do fine, for now..." He glanced at the Marquis enquiringly.
"The same for me", the Marquis told the barman, before returning his attention to John. "Smoking? Only on school property, I assume?"
John nodded. "No smoking on the school grounds, outside of my quarters. No drinking on the grounds. No bein' drunk on the grounds, nor anywhere else there's students, which means I have to watch my arse in Hogsmeade more often than not." He thought for a moment. "No swearing at, in front of, or anywhere near the bloody students, either."
The Marquis laughed quietly, nodding his thanks to the barman as their drinks arrived. "How unpleasant for you. Still, it must be an interesting experience."
"Yeah... yeah, it is." One corner of John's mouth twisted wryly. "Pretty close to the last thing I ever thought I'd catch myself doin' for a living, but it has its moments."
"Learning new things?"
"Yep. Whole styles of magic they just don't have back home." He reached for his drink. "Once you get around having to deal with the people, that kind of thing almost makes it all worthwhile."
The Marquis picked up his own drink and took a sip. "Anything you could carry over, when you get home?"
John wiggled one hand in midair. "A few things," he said when he'd put his glass down. "Mostly potions and rituals. I've been packing away seeds and such where I can manage it, too- they've got plants here you'd have to trek halfway around the world and trade an eyeball for, back home."
The Marquis blinked, suspecting the "trade an eyeball" had been neither metaphorical, nor exaggeration. "Useful trading material, on your return."
"Oh, yeah." John grinned. "Sprout doesn't know how good she's got it..."
"Sprout?"
"The witch who runs the school greenhouses."
"Ahh. Perhaps it might be possible to gather a supply, plenty to take home on your return?"
John nodded. "Hence the seeds," he said. "Simplest way of transporting the lot, and I've been at their herbology textbooks, too..." A thought occurred to him. "Speaing of which, I've got some names for you."
The Marquis smiled brightly. "Ah, yes. Our deal. How many names?"
"Had to do some narrowing down," John said, noting the other man's expression. "Seven at the moment. Could be more later."
The Marquis raised one eyebrow. "Seven will be just fine, for now. If there are more later, I'll either arrange more introductions, or some other means of payment."
John nodded. "Fair enough," he says. "The first one's a kid name of Neville Longbottom. He'll be starting his sixth year in September. Kid's a bit of a wash grade-wise but he's makin' up for lost time at a frightening rate, at least in my class. He's learning Defense Against the Dark Arts faster than I learned summoning, frankly."
The Marquis nodded an acknowledgment, producing a pad and pen from somewhere in his coat and writing down the name. "Impressive."
"I'll say. Motivated as all hell, too." He leaned back in his seat. "The second one's a girl, Eloise Midgen. Damn good at curses- usually when she's trying to do something else, but anyone who can blow her own nose off when all she's trying to do is take out a case of the spots has enough raw power going that she bears watchin'. I've seen her in action. She'll be a scary one when she's done."
The Marquis nodded, adding her name to the list and commenting absently, "Indeed. And perhaps special care should be taken to keep her on the right path..."
"Definitely. She's a good kid- I wouldn't like to see her go sour on anyone."
"One to watch in several ways, then..."
John nodded. "Same deal with Hermione Granger. I'd say she'd make a hell of a research witch, only she's not afraid to try things out in the field, either. Got a grasp of magical theory and synthesis that I haven't seen in a damned long time."
The Marquis nodded again, noting her name. "She's had a chance to try things in the field, then?"
"Her and the Longbottom kid," John confirmed.
"How did that come about? I would have thought the magic they were teaching would be more theoretical, at this stage."
John wrinkled his nose. "Should've been," he said. "At least, according to the guidelines they've got here. Seems she and Longbottom and a couple of others got involved in a bit of an argy-bargy against homicidal adult wizards in a government office last year, though. That's where your next name comes in, by the way- Potter, Harry Potter. He's been teaching Longbottom all he knows. Boy's no great shakes at most of his classes but he does better than anyone in Defense. Always has."
The Marquis glanced up with a slight frown, as if trying to remember something. "The name... sounds familiar. Would he have made any great waves before starting school?"
"You could say that," John said. "I"m told the Great and Terrible Lord Voldemort, who's so bloody feared by most of the wizards around these parts they won't even say his name, tried to kill him when he was maybe a year old. Didn't work. V. got knocked out of commission instead and the kid wound up an orphan."
The Marquis nodded. "Ah. Yes, I remember now. Big waves indeed. But then he seemed to disappear from the radar, as it were."
John nodded. "About the size of it," he said. "Far as I can tell, they tracked down his nearest relatives and left him there. In his sixth year now, though. Got a lot of potential, if he doesn't get himself killed first."
The Marquis raised an eyebrow. "The boy's reckless, then? Or attracts trouble, perhaps?"
"Little of both, I think. Not really sure if he has the common sense to know when he ought to be afraid."
"Not really something that can be taught, unfortunately. Except the hard way."
John's mouth twisted again. "Tell me about it," he said dryly. "Anyway, that's him, and he makes what, four names so far?"
"Four, yes. You said you had seven?"
"Right, right..." John ran a finger briefly around the rim of his glass. "You know how they say 'it's always the quiet ones' when some bloke goes off and wipes out the better part of a village with his granddad's Enfield? The next name's one of the quiet ones. I'd be ruddy careful around Theodore Nott if I were you. Weedy kid, doesn't talk much, but every word you say goes in and stays in. He's bloody good with a wand- too good for his age, if you ask me."
The Marquis tilted his head curiously. "Trained at home, perhaps?"
"Could be. Comes from a long line of hereditary wizards, so I'm told. Him and another boy called Blaise Zabini, although they're as different as me and the Pope."
"Is Zabini your sixth name?"
John nodded. "That he is. Father's out of the picture, mother's a bit of a milksop, but Zabini's out to get into magical law enforcement by any means he can. Wants to be Minister of Magic some day."
"A worthy goal, certainly. Although... just how many means exist to get into magical law enforcement?"
John shrugged. "Depends on whether you want to work your way up from a life of huntin' down magically exploding toilets, or go straight for the Auror Service- far as I can tell that's Bond with wands. 'n there's the Wizengamot, which is their big magical court, so I s'pose he could be aimin' for a career as a wizard solicitor or something."
"I would imagine exploding toilets wouldn't suit a boy with ambitions of political power. The Aurors sound interesting..."
"Tough as hell to get into." John finished off his drink. "Background checks left, right, and center, and you've got to do three more years' training before they'll even squint at you."
"All the better. At least that way, the boy can prove himself worthy."
John nodded. "That's what he said... "
"And who is the seventh name?" the Marquis asked, since that conversation thread had seemingly reached its end.
"Anthony Goldstein. Not so ambitious as Zabini or Nott, but close, and almost as bright as the Granger girl. Put the two together-" John made an exploding motion with both hands. "It's a strong combination. He'll go a long way, if you ask me. And he's got better survival instincts than Potter, that's for sure."
The Marquis nodded. "And that completes your end of the deal, unless you have any more names to add. I shall fulfil mine at the earliest convenience. Here are your cigarettes, by the way", he added, producing them from a pocket and handing them over.
John reached for the pack with a look bordering on pure reverence. "Thanks," he said, and smiled. "It's been longer than I like to think."
The Marquis grinned. "Surely smoking in your private rooms is permitted?"
"Oh, yeah, it's not that." John waved a hand vaguely. "But there's no one within miles of Hogsmeade who's got anything but pipe tobacco for sale, and conjured fags taste like shit. Transmuted ones're about as bad."
The Marquis nodded, understanding. "Ahh, I see. Perhaps you should stock up before you go back, then."
"I will, believe me," John agreed fervently.
"Are you staying long?" the Marquis inquired lazily.
"Overnight, and part of tomorrow. Why?"
He waved off the question. "Oh, just wondering. If you have time, and there's anyone you'd like to meet in London, perhaps we could start on the introductions before you go...?"
John considered the prospect, opening the package with fingers on autopilot. "That'd be fine," he agreed. "I've got time enough."
The Marquis nodded, lounging back in his chair. "Anyone you had in mind?"
John chuckled and set off the world's smallest Incendio. As the blessed, blessed natural smoke started to rise, he said, "Surprise me."
"Very well. Shall we go?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Let's."