Arell was flitting around the room when Blackheart returned, jumping from one perch to another. The small scroll that was attached to his leg banged against everything he landed upon.

"Been like that since he got back," Sirius pointed out as he wandered into the sitting room, munching on something from a tin. "Won't settle down. Two more scrolls just like it came in earlier this week."

Blackheart sighed and sank down onto one of the sofas, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses.

"You can say no, you know," Sirius said. "Nobody knows who you are, or even where you are."

"But there are so many who need help," Blackheart said.

"There always are," Sirius said. He set his food down on one of the tables and wrestled for control of the scroll from the dark owl. Arell preferred to have Blackheart remove the scrolls, but, if necessary, he would allow Sirius, or even Dobby, to relieve him of his burden.

"Bung him an owl treat," Blackheart said as he lay down on the sofa and closed his eyes. Two weeks in France had worn him down. He felt the constant need to be on the go, doing something, even if he wasn't sure what the end result truly was. He might be helping people, and his Gringotts account might be overflowing with gold, but what was the purpose in it all?

"Get on with it, then," Sirius said, and banished the scrolls to him. "At least read them. Maybe something will interest you."

Blackheart sighed, but fumbled for the first scroll, splitting open the seal. He let his eyes trace over the words and then dropped it to his chest.

"Worthless."

"Must be a good one."

"Nothing I'm doing," Blackheart said. "I don't kill people. Well, I mean...I'm not against it, just not… It would have to be…."

"You have your principles," Sirius said firmly. Blackheart knew he was smirking, could practically feel it from across the room.

With a sigh, he opened the second scroll and peered at the writing there. It was familiar, and the signature was one he knew. The case didn't interest him, in itself, but he'd worked with this client before on several occasions and it had always proved...entertaining."

"Must be a good one."

"Missing person," Blackheart murmured.

"Boring."

"Yes," he said, "But I actually like this client."

"Another witch?" Sirius sat up, his expression changing.

"No, but I still like them anyway."

"With the war on, a simple missing persons case should go to the Aurors. It's a bit...below your paygrade."

"Perhaps," said Blackheart, "but I'm still going to do it." He stood, scanning the letter once more, and prepared to get started on the search.

"Is it anything that Padfoot could assist on?"

"Not this time."

It was the standard answer and Blackheart scolded himself for feeling so guilty. It was really for everyone's good that Sirius stayed hidden away. The Ministry would like nothing more than to recapture him and sentence him to the Dementor's Kiss. And then Blackheart would be all alone again.

"Are you at least going to open the other scroll?"

"It'll keep," he called as he bounded up the stairs and to his room.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

The coffee house was nondescript, unrecognizable from any other small doorway on the street. Blackheart scanned left and right, watching for anything suspicious before entering. The man he was looking for sat at table in the far corner, his back to the wall, eyes on the windows and doorway. He glanced at Blackheart, but his eyes showed no recognition. And they wouldn't. He'd never seen Blackheart before.

A quick translation spell covered Blackhearts stumbling over what to order, and he waited for his coffee to be prepared.

There were two other people in the shop, both distracted by the newspapers they were reading. They hadn't even looked up when Blackheart walked in. One more charm assured that they wouldn't even notice the far corner as Blackheart took his coffee in that direction.

"Mind if I sit?"

He didn't wait for the man's response, but perched himself in the empty seat. The man stared at him, aghast.

"I'm sorry, do I know-"

"Melnyk told me where to find you."

The man's eyes blinked several times behind his thin glasses, but Blackheart could tell that it would take more than just a name to satisfy him.

"He said you needed this." Blackheart lifted his hand, twirling his fingers to reveal a sphere wrapped in gold tissue paper. Careful not to touch the glass, Blackheart peeled back the paper to show an ornately decorated Remembrall. The white smoke inside as thick as London fog.

The man across from him slowly reached out, letting his fingers ghost along the surface. The smoke inside instantly turned red. His eyes lifted to meet Blackheart's.

"I see."

Blackheart didn't fully understand the reference, but apparently this man did. He turned his hand over and dropped the Remembrall into a waiting hand.

"He wouldn't have sent you if it wasn't important."

"Honestly?" Blackheart said as he sat back in his chair. "Melnyk doesn't know me. But he owed someone I know a favor."

Percy's eyebrows contracted and he closed his fist around the ball before tucking it away in a pocket.

"I don't understand-"

"Your family is concerned," Blackheart said. "They are searching for you."

Percy sighed and shook his head slowly. "I told them I would be away for a time due to Ministry business."

"They're smarter than that," Blackheart said simply.

"There's nothing I can tell them."

They were both quiet for a long time and Blackheart studied the man across from him. He could see echoes of Fred and George Weasley in his features, but there were marked differences, also.

"Yes, spying can be like that."

"I'm not a spy," Percy said as he sipped at his drink. "I'm here officially as a representative of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"Right." Blackhorn did his best not to smirk, but he didn't think he was successful.

"I'm sorry that you came all this way," Percy said as he gathered his things and started to stand. "Please tell my family that I am fine and that I will try to write when I can."

"Who are you spying for?"

Percy adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses and huffed out a breath through his nose. "I'm sorry, Mr…."

"You may call me Ombragė."

"French?" Percy grunted and peered at Blackheart, as if trying to place his face and name.

"No," Blackheart answered, "but I do occasionally consult with them."

"Italian?"

A smile. "No."

Percy nodded, as if he understood that Blackheart wasn't going to give him a straight answer no matter what question he was asked.

"I'm not sure what Melnyk told you-"

"Nothing at all."

"Good. He should have kept his mouth shut."

"I would have found you either way," Blackheart said.

"Good day, Monsieur Ombragė." Percy put a hat on over his red hair and pulled an overcoat tightly around him.

Blackheart watched him leave the shop and sipped at his coffee a few minutes later. When enough time had passed, he gathered his things, left a few coins scattered on the tabletop and left.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Percy was caught between fury and awe. He didn't understand how the man had found him at all, let alone how he'd been able to approach as he had. And who was he, anyway? Mr. Shadowy? He might find the moniker amusing, but Percy did not.

There weren't many people in the world who knew that Percy was in Austria, and none of them should have been able to locate him. If the man had not produced that Remembrall, Percy would have been required to do something drastic. The idea of killing someone was unpleasant but….

He glanced around him, unsure if he'd seen a shadow, or if Monsieur Ombragė's appearance at his table had just unnerved him. To be sure, he cast a quick spell to cover his trail. He would need to leave Austria soon. There was little progress on his mission and he was due to report in with results. He had been entrusted with a vital mission by someone he truly admired and Percy was determined not to let him down.

The street was growing dark, lamps flickering to life, but the entire area seemed deserted. Percy peered at the shuttered windows and wondered just who lived behind them.

A streak of blue light flashed past him, singing the edge of his coat. Percy's wand slid from his wrist holster and he spun, firing off a defensive spell. Two hulking shadows advanced his direction down the alleyway to his left and Percy glanced around, trying to plan an escape route. A barrage of spells began flying and Percy deflected most of them while trying to fire a few of his own off.

"Oof!" He pitched forward as a spell hit him from behind in the shoulder. It felt like a snakebite, but with the intensity of a bludger. Fissures of heat traveled down his arm, making it hard to hold onto his wand. He clamped his fingers even tighter, knowing that he'd be dead if they disarmed him.

"What do you want?"

The wizards-there were four now, prowling in the shadows of the buildings-called out to him in a foreign tongue that he didn't recognize. A flash of green light broke across the sky. The wizard who had used the killing curse dropped to his knees, falling forward onto his face. Percy stared at him with wide eyes.

Another flash of light came from his left and Percy spun, expecting to be cornered on three sides. But another attacker dropped.

Monsieur Ombragė melted from the darkness, spells of light flashing from his wand as if he had casually tossed them.

The attackers dove for cover and began returning fire.

"You followed me!" Percy said. He moved closer to Ombragė and held a shield up to protect them both.

"You're welcome."

Ombragė laughed softly and shot off a spell that shook the ground around them. He never uttered a word and Percy blinked in shock. Silent casting was not common; Percy himself could only manage a few minor spells.

More attackers arrived, summoned by the flashes of magic, and the battle intensified.

"Should we apparate?"

"No fun in that," Ombragė said. "Then we'd never know who they are and what they want."

"I'm fairly sure," Percy said through gritted teeth, "that the Avada Kedavra was a sign of what they want."

"It was weakly cast," the infuriating wizard said. "A simple deflection worked."

Percy huffed and cast a tripping jinx at the closest man. He went down, hitting his face hard on the concrete sidewalk. He was exhausted and his shoulder burned horribly. But Ombragė seemed to be barely breaking a sweat. In fact, he seemed rather pleased with the battle if the smile he wore could be believed.

He opened his mouth to demand answers when a spell hit him from the side, sending him flying. Just before he impacted with the side of the building, Percy decided that he was going to die today.

He woke with a start, expecting to be a prisoner in some hell-hole of a prison. But it was the faded floral canopy of a hotel room bed that he was looking at.

"You won't be able to move for a few more hours."

Ombragė. Percy closed his eyes, both in gratitude and in annoyance.

"I thought I was dead."

"Nearly. But not completely."

He swore he could hear the infernal wizard smiling, even though he couldn't see him just yet.

"Why am I-"

"Immobilized?" Ombragė came into view, grinning. "Mostly for my enjoyment, but it does help when I have to reset a bone now and again. If you were to wake up and flinch, I'd be forced to start all over again. Nasty business, bone setting."

Percy sighed. "So, you're a healer?"

"Not at all. It's just handy to know a few things in my line of work."

"And what line is that? Spy? Assassin?"

"At times," Ombragė said. He sounded so casual about it, as if it was a topic for everyday discussion and Percy decided that perhaps it was for wizards like him.

"How did we get away from those men?" Who were they? What did they want?"

Ombragė sat on the side of the bed, jostling Percy. A sharp pain shot through his right leg and left side. "The killing curse was indeed a good indicator. I'd say that whatever it is you're doing-spying, internationally cooperating-you drew the wrong sort of attention."

Percy pressed his lips together. "I don't know if I can trust you," he said.

"Wise choice. But I promise I'm okay."

"And I'm supposed to take your word for it?"

"Of course not," Ombragė said. He was having fun with this conversation at Percy's expense. "I have a list of references, if you'd like."

"If they're all as reputable as Melnyk then I don't think your references are all that impressive."

"You might be surprised." Ombragė stood and walked out of sight. Percy tried to follow him with his eyes, but his head would not turn.

"It appears that you poked the wrong dragon, my friend. Whatever brings you to Austria has drawn the attention of certain...inglorious parties. Might you be willing to tell me now what you've been up to?"

"Not likely," Percy bit out. A slow tingling burn had begun at his toes and he wanted to cry out, but didn't want to give in if this was some sort of torture that Ombragė was inflicting upon him.

"You are stubborn. Good for you. Unfortunately," Ombragė continued, "I'm a better spy than you are."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I know you've been tracking a certain wand's lore, asking too many questions, seeking too many avenues that have left you open to vulnerabilities."

The burning had risen slowly up his legs and was now settled into his gut now. "I won't tell you anything," he gasped, "not even if you burn me alive."

Ombragė appeared above him, his eyes wide. "Burning? Oh dear, it's not supposed to do that…"

Percy's eyes rolled back in his head as he blacked out.

It wasn't long before his eyes fluttered open once more.

"Sorry about that," Ombragė muttered. "Didn't realize you'd react so strongly to the murtlap. Might want to keep that in mind if you're ever in a situation like this again."

The insane need to laugh bubbled up inside Percy and escaped his lips for just a moment. "If I'm ever in a situation like this again," he repeated. "I'll keep that in mind."

Ombragė seemed amused as well. "Why do you want to know about the Elder Wand?"

"Let's call it curiosity."

"It almost got you killed."

"I don't have the wand, if that's what you think."

"Someone believes you might have it."

"It's a myth," Percy said. He was just now beginning to be able to wiggle his fingers and hoped that whatever this man had done to him was wearing off. "A legend. I was in the area and thought I'd trace the story."

"Everyone's read the book," Ombragė said with a dismissive wave. "Nobody believes that the Hallows are real."

Percy clamped his lips shut and concentrated on moving his extremities.

"Except that you're willing to risk your life to find them."

His arm could just now move up the elbow and he flexed it. Tingles, as if he'd rested far too long on the limb and it was just waking up, erupted and he winced at the sensation.

"That's a bit dramatic, isn't it?"

Ombragė just hummed in response.

"Do you think you could release me?"

"Who wants the Hallows?"

"I'm sure there are many people who might want them. I'm interested on a purely academic level."

Ombragė sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Can we dispense with the lying? I've already told you that I'm a better spy than you. Continuing with this story is only going to keep you here longer."

"If you're a better spy than me," said Percy, "then you would already know the answers to the questions you are asking me."

"Call me impatient. I'd rather just hear you tell me than to have to toss an entire city to discover it. Time is money, my friend."

"I still don't trust you."

"I understand."

"And even if I wanted to tell you-which I don't-how do you know that I haven't made an Unbreakable Vow not to?"

"You'd already be dead." Ombragė stood and began pacing the floor. Percy could twist his neck just enough to see the man in his periphery. "You're not a Death Eater-"

"Are you?"

"-so that means you're working to take down Volde-"

"Don't say that name!" Percy pleaded.

Ombragė stopped pacing and rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on! It's a name. There's no curse on it."

"There might be."

"There's not."

"But there might-"

"We are not two years old." Ombragė was growing impatient and Percy took a devilish pleasure in causing his face to turn red. "You're trying to distract me."

"Is it working?"

Ombragė peered at him, a sort of respect showing in his eyes. "Head Boy at Hogwarts. I can see why…." He trailed off, as if an idea had just occurred to him. "Hogwarts."

"What?" Percy's pulse raced and he tried to take slow breaths to calm himself. His connection to Hogwarts was tentative, at best. Yes, he'd attended there, but he hadn't been seen with anyone from the school since leaving.

"That meddling old fool." Ombragė seemed both amused and exasperated. "Well, that does it. You're free to go now."

Percy huffed. He couldn't quite move his legs yet, and his arms were still pinned at the shoulders.

Ombragė rustled something on the far side of the room and then stepped closer. "Thank you for the information. I'll pass along your regards to your family. You might think about contacting them, just to stave off any further visits from people like me. They're a rather determined lot."

"Hang on!" Percy roared. "You think you know something-"

"Oh, I know."

Percy's head flopped back on the bed and he took more shallow breaths. Breaking whatever curse Ombragė had put on him was exhausting. "Please. You can't-"

"Don't worry, Mister Weasley. The secret is safe with me."

"Until you find the highest bidder," Percy muttered.

The man looked offended. Percy studied him for a moment, trying to memorize the features, but nothing stuck out as memorable. He was of medium height, medium build, his hair might be dark or...medium-there wasn't enough light in the room to tell-and his eyes...there was something strange about his eyes that Percy couldn't figure out. They looked grey, or blue, or even green at times.

"I do have principles, you know."

"Tell me who you are."

"My name is Ombraģe"

"Your real name."

"If you were a better spy," Ombragė smirked, "you'd already know."

Percy lay back, completely wiped out from the exchange. He had no idea what he'd said that had tipped Ombragė off to the truth. He couldn't think of anything at all. He had to admit, Ombragė was the better spy. He'd likely suspected part of the truth anyway and Percy's words had simply tipped the scales.

"I'm leaving you my card." A thin bit of stiff parchment was slipped between Percy's fingers. "If you ever need me, this is how you find me."

"A calling card?"

"Of sorts. Use the spell listed there. I will contact you as soon as I am able."

Percy didn't watch him go. He heard the footsteps across the rug, then the hardwood, and the door close. Slowly, he lifted his fingers and peered at the card.

"Blackheart," he read out loud. "Indeed."

The next day, Percy found the card in his pocket, but couldn't remember where he'd picked it up.

"Curious," he mumbled. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to discard it. Something told him he might need it one day. He tucked it away in his pocket for another time.