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Topic Started: Jul 3 2013, 11:25 PM (86 Views)
Roberta Halden
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"Mum, I'll be fine. I promise." Robbie called behind her as she hurried to the fireplace. She loved her mother dearly, but the woman was driving her batty lately. She was so worried and so scared after Robbie had come home after the Battle of Hogwarts. Robbie knew that she had good reason to be. "I'll be back in a couple hours. Love you."

That battle had taken a lot out of Robbie. Physically and emotionally. She knew that she hadn't been acting like herself the last few weeks but she was still trying to deal with the things she'd learned that night. Things that she could never share with her mother.

"Robbie, love, are you sure you don't want me to..." Claire Halden began as Robbie quickly tossed a handful of floopowder into the fireplace.

"Diagon Alley." Robbie spoke clearly and held her breath as the ash and dust swirled around her and as she opened her eyes again she found herself in the Leaky Cauldron. There were only a few patrons sitting around the usually busy inn. Another sign of how this war was destroying them all.

She felt a little bit of guilt for leaving her mother the way she did but her mother had moved into full on overprotective mother mode and Robbie just needed to breathe for a little while.

As she strolled out into the daylight of the Alley, Robbie took a moment to survey the people she spotted. There were a few groups of people around but it seemed like another slow day. She sighed and began to stroll down the street.

"Oi, Halden." A voice shouted out from behind her and she turned to see Fletcher and his goons strolling her way. She rolled her eyes and continued on her way but Fletcher was not so easily deterred. He caught up with her in only a few strides. "Maher finally figure dump your ass? Figured it was only a matter of time."

"Go away, Fletcher." Robbie said dryly as she continued down the street.

"Gotta say Halden, you haven't been living up to your reputation lately."

"What are you on about?" she asked now getting irritated with the three boys following her as she walked.

"To be honest, you've been acting like a girl." Fletcher sneered, obviously waiting for her to lose her temper.

Robbie stopped abruptly and turned to face the annoying boy at her side. "I know this might be hard for you to understand because other than your mother, who has to tolerate you, you haven't had much contact with them, but I actually am a girl."

Fletcher's cronies began to cackle as Robbie turned and stormed into Quality Quidditch Supplies.

A few weeks ago, Robbie would have leapt on the bully and begun to whale on him but times had changed. There were more dangerous people that she had faced in recent past. An prat like Fletcher wasn't worthy of a single punch thrown in his direction. She knew that if Fletcher had faced any of the things she had, he'd have wet his trousers and whined for his mummy. Robbie had gone through it, and she survived.

As soon as she was sure that the boys hadn't followed her inside, Robbie let herself relax and began to browse through the latest Quidditch Magazines on the racks. She grabbed QQWW (Quality Quidditch World Weekly) Finn Lancaster's picture winked salaciously from the cover. The headline below it screamed 'Finn's love of botany! Read all about it only in QQWW!' Robbie flipped to the exclusive interview with Cee Dubois. The French quidditch star smiled cheekily while she twirled a daisy from the smaller picture beside the text.

Just as she began to read, a loud crashing sound came from outside on the street. A sound that Robbie was becoming all too familiar with. Her wand was in her hand before she even turned around. She crouched down where she was but she kept her eyes on the door. She wouldn't apparate unless she had to. She didn't want to draw any attention to the shop unless she needed to but she was not planning on reliving the torture that she'd endured before.
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Maverick Shepard
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Maverick was livid.

Everything he had done to protect Claire and the girls was for absolutely, bloody nothing. Thomas had done more damage to his family than Maverick could imagine, and after a very heated argument, he had a very good idea what his sweet babies had to live with their entire lives.

Worst of all, Claire would never forgive him.

Even more gut-wrenching and mind-churning was the fact that suddenly, he cared.

A fortnight ago, he was blissfully engulfed in the dangerous strategy game with Reed and Cassandra. Move one pawn here, win the battle, move one pawn there, win the war. They had maneuvered so many things, put plans into motion that were positively flawless, seeping with the sort of wit one would expect from a proper adversary – the true heroes in a time desperate for change.

And now, now, all of it was different.

His apathetic view on the world he was helping create under the guise of Ministry advancement was slowly evolving into tormented battles between an angel and devil on his shoulder. Roberta was the angel. She was his angel, his Bobbie-Socks.

Maverick sat quietly in his leather recliner with a cool bottle of ale engulfed in his fist. The five o’clock shadow on his face was more like an eleven o’clock shadow. The crisp, clean feel of the man was gone; instead his hair was a disheveled mess, the clothes that he wore were no longer perfectly pressed. He was a wreck and all because somehow his little darling had niggled her way back into his life despite the precautions he’d taken to make sure that he’d never, ever see her again.

He pulled the long neck of his ale to his dry lips and swigged a deep drink from the bottle. For a moment, the cool liquid tore his mind away from its torment, but quick as a shot, his thoughts began to settle on the frightened and angry face of his grown daughter.

This was what consequences are. This pain, the ache in his chest that couldn’t be eased with any amount of ale, it was eternal and would haunt him until the day he died.

Maverick made the wrong decision. He chose complete abandonment. He chose to save his family, but only to then thrust them into the arms of a man who had little regard for their well-being. All of the hopes he’d had for Claire, Robbie and Sammy were shot.

Dead.

Granted, so was Thomas.

His body lay on the floor just shy of Maverick’s chair. Bloodied, bruised and lifeless. Dead in much the same way that Maverick felt.

Maverick swept his gaze along the short body on the floor and stood up in one fluid motion. The bottle in his hand smashed against the opposite wall. It burst into a thousand pieces of glass while the small supply of ale plastered to the wall.

The pure rage that thrummed through Maverick’s veins was not only incensed by the alcohol he consumed, but the complete helplessness that he felt in the situation. He growled as he heaved a heavy boot into Thomas’s limp form.

He didn’t know where he stood anymore.

Maverick was Reed’s man.

Maverick was Claire’s husband.

Maverick was deadly and dangerous.

Maverick was Robbie and Sammy’s father.

He was a murderer, a plotter, a ruthless tactician.

He was a powerless pawn all over again.

All of his memories were jumbled. He could clearly see Claire holding Sammy for the first time while Robbie protectively held his hand. “I’m not sharing my daddy,” she’d tell him begrudgingly. Then, he could see the light in a victim’s eyes slowly diminish while he muttered a curse that would rip him from his life and force his family to begin again without their father or husband.

A loud crack drew his attention away from Halden’s body. He laid his eyes on a tall, wiry figure with oversized black robes. An unwelcome intrusion.

“Shepard.” The curt voice greeted him from underneath a drawn hood.

“Vincent.” Maverick matched the indifferent tone. He didn’t care much for the man in his home. He was known to most as the Executioner – the man who would kill anyone in a single, easy flick of his wand.

It was never a good sign when he showed up.

“We’ve a situation in Diagon Alley where the Matthews girl is supposed to be securing Reed’s amulet.”

“And that’s what happens when you let a child take the responsibility of an adult wizard.” Maverick shook his head as he turned from Vincent and began putting himself together for a battle in London.

“Garrish seems to think she’s got knackers for the cause,” Vincent informed him absently from somewhere behind him. “Thinks she’ll grow up to be Cassandra Junior.”

Maverick’s icy laugh was hardly fueled by humor. Why anyone would ever aspire to be like Cassandra was beyond his understanding. He wondered briefly what the Mad Gabriel Matthews thought of his baby girl running around with wizards twice her age, fodder for a war that had done nothing but kill innocent people.

And then Maverick remembered the way he assured Reed that a high body count and fear would help bolster his appearance. A sick, slithering feeling rolled around in Maverick’s gut.

“Her and Andreas’ boy, they make quite the team. But I suppose that’s all the little brat had going for her if this is how she handles the Dark Lord’s work alone.” Vincent sounded eerily malicious, like he was searching for a way to murder the girl.

“And Samuel acquired the scrolls?” Maverick asked, for the scrolls were nothing without the amulet, and the amulet was nothing without the scrolls.

“In and out without having a single spell fired.” Vincent chuckled darkly. “The girl’s gone missing.”

“And I assume you’re going to find her?”

“For her sake, she better hope that I don’t. And if I do, she better hope that she has the amulet.”

With that, the two wizards apparated to the smoky alley. Shots were being fired in all directions and no sooner than Maverick gained his bearings did he have to deflect a rogue yellow curse with his wand.

“You find the girl; I’ll sort this lot out.” Vincent ordered.

It was odd, allowing Vincent to call the shots. But, it allowed Maverick the chance to perhaps spare the girl her life if he found her. A young girl like Saoirse Matthews had no place among the ranks of Reed and his men.

When he spun around to stalk towards Knockturn Alley, Maverick’s eyes caught a petite frame through a shop window. He thought, perhaps, that it was a trick of the light, that it was too ironic that she’d be here, now. But that didn’t stop him from entering the shop to have a look anyway.

Sure enough, as he pushed the door open, he could see her crouching close to the ground. Maverick wasted no time – he ran over to his daughter, grabbed her by the arms and hoisted her to stand tall.

“Do you enjoy putting yourself into dangerous situations?” Maverick hissed at her as he peered outside of the window and then back to the door. If anyone spotted her, they’d kill her. If anyone spotted him trying to help her, he’d have a lot of questions to answer.

Neither situation was desirable.

“Apparate out of here before you get yourself killed.”
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