Chapter Ten

The Fragile Nature of Faith

The four of them made some progress in cleaning, but since it was already late in the day it didn't end up being extensive. Still, Molly was pleased and blissfully unaware of Chey's letting slip to Harry some information. She couldn't be too cross about it, since most of what he'd told them was about himself, not the Order, and it should prove a nice distraction for the trio from actual Order business.

"Off with you," she told them while Chey put measures in place that would keep the cabinets from re-locking themselves. "Wash up and get to bed."

"But cleaning doxy dung is so invigorating, Mum," Ron said sarcastically.

"Bed," she said sternly. Her tone relented when she turned to Chey, "Bless you for helping tonight."

"It's fine," he said.

"It's really all I can do to keep them occupied. They needn't concern themselves with what's going on."

"You can't keep them in the dark forever," Chey said. "They don't always go looking for trouble, but it does tend to find them more often than not."

"They're safe as long as they're here."

"They have to go to school eventually."

"Dumbledore's there."

"What if he had to leave?"

Her expression froze. This was clearly as far as she considered the situation, and no doubt she wasn't the only one. Chey was quickly learning that Dumbledore was the foundation upon which Britain's wizards built their feeling of safety. Chey would have to break them of this dependance on a single point of failure, and Molly was a good a place as any to start.

"...The castle..." she struggled, "it has defenses. ...And Minerva's there."

"Molly," Chey said, looking at her intently, "those kids are no different from the rest of us; we are our own last line of defense."

"But Dumbledore-"

"-Has been the target of propaganda by the government to discredit him. We talked about this: it all plays into the enemy's hand."

"But we've made this plan-"

"-That could potentially fail. Trust my Aunt Em when she says I got my smarts from my mom, but I can't plan for everything. The Old Man leaving the school may be a foregone conclusion. When that happens, they're on their own. Not just those three, but every kid in that castle is at risk."

Her lower lip quivered, then tears welled up in her eyes. Chey supposed her response would be exuberant, so he drew up another curtain to keep her voice isolated within the room they occupied. He was loathe to cast more magic, but it wouldn't do for the portraits to hear her outburst.

"What am I to do, then?" she said calmly, the tears threatening to fall, but never making good on their promise. "If there's really no one to keep them safe, should I tell them they're all going to die? I couldn't stand telling them the truth any more than I could lie to them."

Chey was not prepared for her tepid, measured response. Clearly, Molly had thought this through already. "Then you would live in denial?" he asked.

"Of course not," she said. "But they're only children. They should be worried about simpler things; like schoolwork, or who they fancy, or what they'll wear on Sundays..."

"So you'd keep their minds off the bigger picture, even if they're in the middle of a war-"

"They deserve a chance to be children," she interjected. "It shouldn't matter if there's a war on."

"Molly," Chey sighed, "they'll find a way to be kids no matter what."

She laughed quietly while using her sleeves to dab away the never-falling tears in her eyes, "There's so much of your aunt in you."

"Never been accused of that before."

"Honestly," Molly said, "I asked her how she felt about your role in the Order."

"I figured she wouldn't like it."

"Stop it, Chey. She's proud of you. And she'd tell you herself if she knew you'd believe her."

The concept hit Chey like a curveball. If Minerva had actually said as much, would Chey have believed her? It seemed such a moot point, because they didn't have the kind of relationship that required mutual validation. Faith in one another rode upon not words, but rather an unspoken familial trust.

"She'd rather you'd stay out of it, of course," Molly continued. "You're her family, and she couldn't bear seeing you hurt. But she told me you were headstrong like her brother, so you were always going to do as you like."

"Been doing as I like for a while," Chey said. "After a while, it gets hard to follow orders."

"Then do her this one favor," Molly said, raising a finger in front of Chey's face, "Never forget how to take advice."

The last glow of twilight pierced through the windows as Chey entered his hotel suite. August was coming to a close as Chey shook loose thoughts of his earlier appointment with Doctor Tennyson, which had been equally as unhelpful as the rest. She'd maintained her insistence on discussing his personal relationships when he only wanted her help getting rid of the voice calling itself Deimos. It frustrated him, though Lenny told him in a letter that therapy often needs time to work, so Chey kept up the sessions under the thinly-veiled guise of hope.

Chey had just finished slipping off his shoes when the phone rang.

"You waited a whole two minutes, Panther," Chey answered it. "I'm impressed at your patience."

"I was in a meeting," Forsythe replied.

"Don't scrap it on my account."

"Water under the bridge, Coyote. What do you have for me?"

"Just one. Old Man wants a favor."

"Depending on what it is, I might get that I.O.U. check I wanted after all."

"He wants me at the school," Chey said.

Forsythe was quiet for a moment. "I thought Baker already filled that position."

"He wants a buffer between him and Butcher."

"Interesting. What's your take on this?"

"My take is irrelevant as long as you hold my dragon captive," Chey reminded him.

"Fair point. Can you maintain your duties to me while working for him?"

"I figure I can hit the London office two days a week and forward everything urgent through diplomatic Floo the rest of the days."

"Be nice to have that secretary do some work for a change."

"So you are watching the lunches I've authorized for her."

"You're still well-within budgetary restrictions, but yes. Fact is we're coming out ahead on this deal, considering the rest of the office is empty."

"Add the fact you aren't even paying me for my work."

"Putting you on payroll implies liability. Start thinking like a spy and it'll make sense."

"So are you game for the Old Man's idea or not?"

"I'll give it a tentative 'yes,' but give us time to workshop scenarios and I'll call you early tomorrow with the answer."

"Got it. Just don't take you time. Old man is in a bind."

"I can sympathize. How's the press front?"

"Counter-Baker strategies are in place. I'm going with the long-play we discussed."

"Good to know something's going to plan. How's you contact?"

"Fragile. I'll adjust my rendezvous to maintain contact."

"Good, Coyote. Keep him grounded, and maybe when this is over you'll tell me who he is."

"Maybe," Chey replied. "What's you counter to Butcher's appointment?"

"Nothing," Forsythe said. "Appointment is a local matter; not our concern. If anything, it takes her away from civil duties, so it's one less chess piece for us to follow."

"Panther, would you like a moment of honesty?" Seth asked.

"I don't think I could stop you, Coyote."

"If you want the Old Man on your side, you might stop dismissing Butcher's appointment as a 'local matter.'"

"I trust this will be sufficient, Nephew," Minerva said, opening the door to Chey's new office. It had all the trimmings of an disused classroom, with a chalkboard tucked into one corner and chairs with desks shoved together against another wall. The air was stale and a thin layer of dust lay upon the floor.

"Right across from the room I transfigured last year," Chey said. "Nice touch, Em."

"You'll add your own touch, I trust."

"I can think of a few things. Forsythe's people will want to tweak the fireplace, though."

"The Floo, of course. Best, perhaps, I distance myself."

"Probably," Chey said. "You think a pool table would fit in here?"

"Even if it couldn't, you'd find a way to do it."

"Your confidence in me is palpable. Though I'll need to put in measures to keep her from snooping, too."

"You'll cast these charms yourself, then?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I'm here to help if you need it."

Did you truly assume she, of all, would fail to notice your reluctance to practice wandcraft? Deimos interjected.

"I think I can manage," Chey said, keeping as straight a face as he knew how to. "You think you can manage to remind your boss we're doing this as a favor to him?"

"Albus is well aware," Minerva replied, "as long as Warren remembers Hogwarts is not his jurisdiction."

"Aunt Em, if everything works out, he'll get a healthy reminder of exactly where his jurisdiction ends."

She eyed him suspiciously. "You've made plans?"

"Nothing special," Chey said. "Just something to keep up my sleeve."

Minerva sighed, then looked at Chey in the way she did that could pass for motherly. "Tread lightly around him."

"Always."

"Now then," she dropped the caring tone and returned to normal, "The Minister will want an explanation for your return to Hogwarts."

"Unrestricted access to the library should speak for itself," Chey said, making his way to look out the window. "You've got the world's best collection of magical literature, so it'd make sense a guy like me fresh out of school would want to further his education on his own."

"On top of your diplomatic duties?" she challenged.

"Chalk it up to the stamina of youth, then let the narrative speak for itself. Leaves some latitude for me to pick up more responsibilities down the line."

"You're not stretching yourself too thin, are you?" Chey broke away from the window. This remark from her sounded more like criticism than concern.

"If I need more time, I know who to ask." When her expression was impassable, he turned back to the window and added, "Granger mentioned the Time Turner when she thought I wasn't listening."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that, then."

"You think your boss would object to me rebuilding the little garage I had last year for the Charger?"

"I doubt it," she said, exasperated. "Why, exactly?"

"I plan on driving to and from London," he answered. "A reserved parking space would be appreciated."