Metaplot and Masterplan

4 - Aisha

In amazement, Aisha watched the picture on her passport change appearance. Sure, if he could change her face with magic, he could get a photograph to mirror her new face with a wave of his wand; it was only logical, but she still found it hard to get used to the way Romulus Lupin used magic for all the special needs of a secret mission.

Maybe she should not have come with him; Varlerta and Roary had been against it, claiming she was safer within the walls of the castle. Romulus, on the other hand, had told her it was safe; obviously, he wanted her to come with him. Aisha saw it as a good sign. Once upon a time - not that long ago, in fact, but removed into ancient history by the things that had happened in the meantime - he had asked her to forgive his former lies if he returned successfully - and alive - from his spying mission. While he was gone, she had feared for him. Waiting, fearing for his life, had made forgiving all the easier. She wanted him back. She wanted him as her lover. She had expected him to claim her after his return, but so far he hadn't.

First, there had been the attack to fear, the fervent preparations to counter the deadly curse of the enemy; then there had been the death of all these children. It had affected everybody, but Romulus Lupin had fallen into something she would have called a clinical depression. He had known many of the dead students, especially the American ones; he had taught them the use of Dark Arts himself. Now it seemed he was overwhelmed by guilt - and disinterested in love. Sure, he smiled at her when he saw her, he even talked to her, but it was as if his spirit was diminished.

When telling her that he had been asked to arrange the safe transfer of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black back to Hogwarts, Romulus had seemed reanimated, revived by the chance of having something to do. The contrast was striking: Suddenly he was not only smiling, even joking again, but also visibly interested in her coming along. She could not miss this chance. She'd agreed to accompanying him to New York City, had packed a few belongings and her passport - and here she was, sitting in a bathroom at JFK airport, watching her photograph change. She left the cubicle to look into a mirror, and, sure, his face looked like her passport picture now. Her hair, her clothes and even her backpack had also changed colour and shape. Romulus was in the men's bathroom next door, doing the same with his own face, passport and clothing. They had travelled on the plane under false names and with false faces, and now that they had checked out and claimed their luggage, Romulus had changed their appearance again to make them harder to trace.

Aisha stared at the strange physique in the mirror. She was looking exquisitely pretty and definitely Caucasian - mid-length shiny blond hair, a rosy complexion, a small button nose, lips that looked as if modelled onto a plaster mannequin. Was that the way Romulus wanted her to look? Would he prefer this too-perfect look of his own creation to her actual face? She stuck out her tongue to the mirror and pulled the face into a few absurd, cross-eyed grimaces. What a ridiculously tiny nose. That wasn't her. If Romulus wanted something like that, he'd have to go for another favourite Muggle. She rinsed her hands and left the facility.

Romulus was waiting outside. He'd made himself a couple of years younger, also blond, but definitely on the chubby side. She looked him over quickly; then she whispered in his ear:" I prefer your normal looks."

He nodded. "I prefer yours," he whispered back. She smiled at the strange face, hoping he was telling the truth.

Together, they left the building. Romulus hailed a taxi to take into town. He seemed to have plenty of money. When he'd bought the plane tickets, she had asked him whether he could make money by magic, whether he could perhaps simply Transfigure objects into money. It wasn't possible, he'd replied: Money was made out of gold and silver simply because these precious metals resisted Transfiguration; only the best Alchemists in the world stood a chance of making gold. As for Muggle coins and money bills, they were always made in cooperation or Muggles and wizards who ensured that they could be forged neither with nor without magic. "I made my money by being a teacher - and by being a spy," he'd told her quietly. She could not help it, even if she told herself she was being a mindless Bond-Girl: She found this highly attractive somehow, even sexy. But then again, she found quite a few things sexy about him, especially now when he wasn't depressed, when he was moving about in the Big Apple as if it was his home turf. He was, after all, an American, something Aisha found refreshing somehow.

The taxi took them to a backstreet in Little Ukraine. Romulus paid the fare and guided Aisha to a small café on the corner.

"You'd better wait here," he told her. "Have a borshtsh or something - just make sure you pay for it straight away, because we may have to leave in a hurry. Find a place facing the door so I can wave you out if necessary. If you don't hear from me in two hours' time, take the plane back to Britain."

Aisha nodded, feeling slight discomfort. He'd told her that in the case of an emergency, she was to leave on her own immediately. Of course, she knew it was only sensible. If he couldn't defend himself against some unknown enemy, there was nothing she could do to help him. Nevertheless, just when he had disappeared from the sight of the café's shop window, she wondered what it would be like to just leave - perhaps never to see him again, perhaps never even to know what had happened to him.

"He'll be alright, you stupid Bond-Girl," she told herself. "He's a professional spy." Obediently, she ordered a bowl of borshtsh, as if the slightest derivation from his suggestion might cause the operation to go amiss. She paid for it when it came, distressing the waitress with the strong Russian accent not a little by her insistence. Then she slowly spooned up the red soup, all the while watching the road. When would he return? "He'll be alright," she told herself."

And he was - or at least, he safely returned to her about half an hour later. She was overjoyed to see him - until she saw the look on his face. He looked far from happy, she realised as he entered the café and slumped down on the chair next to hers. He was on his own, she realised, but by no means in a hurry or on the run.

"What happened?" she asked.

"The place is empty," he replied curtly. "Cleaned out. No Magical Society, no prisoners. The tenants of the apartment have no clue who lived there before them. They moved in last month."

"So you have no idea what happened to Sirius and Lupin," Aisha concluded.

"Nope." There was the hint of a sarcastic smile on his lips. "No idea."

"What now?" Aisha asked, toying with the spoon in her empty bowl.

"I'll have to renew my contacts, talk to a couple of people," Romulus replied quietly. "I have been out of touch for a couple of months. My contacts from the Magical Society must think that I'm either dead, taken by the enemy, or have gone over to the other side. I have to convince them I was taken and have escaped rather than having changed sides."

Aisha was bewildered for a moment. The other side, the enemy - that was Dumbledore, that was Hogwarts, that was Roary, Varlerta and her. She was the enemy, and Romulus had gone over to her - was that it? She found dealing with him confusing. Getting close to him seemed so difficult somehow, as if their feelings for each other were almost too fragile to be put to a test. Given the fact that she had already slept with him, this tentative, tedious process of getting close, of understanding each other, seemed a bit out of place. Then again, she hadn't slept with him. She'd gotten into the bed of a man she took to be Remus Lupin, and becoming the lover of this strange, slightly mysterious spy might be a different matter altogether.

"Do you know how to find your contacts?" she asked at last, feeling obliged to keep the conversation going.

"I suppose so," he replied vaguely. "However, you can't come with me. The Magical Society is not like the Death Eaters - they rarely commit violent acts, and never pointless ones. However, they are not exactly pro-Muggle. If they find out I've brought you with me, they will hardly trust me."

"I suppose I could go and see some friends here in New York," Aisha replied. Her best friends were in distant Scotland, but there were still a few acquaintances she could pay a little visit. After all, New York had been her hometown for many years.

"I'd prefer you to stay anonymously in a Muggle hotel. It would be better if we kept up your altered outward appearance and did not leave your room. I'd cast a couple of protective spells. This way, you will endanger yourself and our operation the least."

Aisha did not like to hear this. Now she was not only a Bond-Girl, but a danger to herself and others, someone who had to be locked in. "I shouldn't have come," she said quietly. "I feel utterly useless, and I hate to be in your way."

He took her hand. "I shouldn't have taken you here, silly me," he confirmed, meeting her eyes. "I'm only in danger and confining you to a hotel room. Still, I'm very glad you're here with me."

Aisha's heart beat quite loudly. It seemed like the right moment to kiss, but with the table and the empty borshtsh bowl between them, kissing would have been quite awkward, and the moment passed.

They left before the waitress could take any order from Romulus. The subway took them to a large, anonymous chain hotel. Aisha expected it to be booked out, but Romulus just booked two rooms under their false names - whether or not there was any bribe involved Aisha did not know. They went upstairs and found their clean, stylish, impersonal hotel rooms with a whirlpool, a sofa, a mini-bar and pay-tv - rather fancy in Aisha's eyes.

"I'll head back into town straight away," Romulus told her. "It would be best if you left your room as little as possible. If you need anything, call room service. I'll be in touch as soon as I can. Have you still got your ticket and that credit card?"

"Is it that dangerous?" Aisha retorted.

Romulus shook his head. "I shouldn't think so," he replied. "I just want to make sure you're not stranded here in this hotel." He smiled, winked at her and left.

Aisha threw herself on the bed. Here she was in a fancy hotel room, alone with a whirlpool, a TV and a strange prettiness that was as borrowed as her name, waiting for him once more. If he didn't come back, she'd be stranded nevertheless.

***********

Romulus returned with the suggestion that they should change their appearance once more and go out to eat in a place of Aisha's choice. "That's the good thing about these big, anonymous hotels - they don't notice if you come down the stairs with a face they've never seen before - they see hundreds of new faces each day."

"What did you find out?" Aisha asked, slapping her hand on the bed, suggesting he should sit down next to her. Her soaps hadn't held their old fascination for her - she had missed months of plot, and now they seemed more shallow and trivial than ever. Even old movies hadn't cut it - and neither would any fancy restaurant. She wanted closeness to Romulus and a solution to the problem they had come to solve, not luxuries.

Romulus sat with a soft groan. Like her, he was probably slightly jetlagged. In England, it was about three in the morning now, Aisha remembered.

"It seems the Magical Society split into two halves," Romulus told her. "My contacts are among those who remained with the old group, but the people who guarded my prisoners appear to have gone over to the newly founded American Death Eaters United. Unlike the old Magical Society, this group does not only agree with certain ideas of the British Death Eaters, such as wizard supremacy over Muggles, but fully and openly supports You-Know-Who. This might mean they sent their prisoners to You-Know-Who - a worst-case scenario, as you can imagine. If we're lucky, they still keep their prisoners in New York, though - maybe as a goody to give to You-Know-Who in case he honours them with a visit."

"We've got to find them tonight, then," Aisha replied. "We've got no time to lose. No time to go out to eat either."

Romulus made a calming movement with his hand. "Yes, we do," he objected. "I've sent out word with my contacts. Tomorrow we'll know more."

"Maybe they are just being sent to You-Know-Who right now," Aisha retorted. "Maybe there's something we can do to prevent it. Once You-Know-Who has them in his keep, it will be really difficult to free them, won't it?"

"It will," Romulus confirmed, "but we will have to deal with this problem when it occurs. Right now, our task is to find out whether they are still in town - after we have eaten, that is. What kind of face do you want to wear today?"

"My own," Aisha replied with slight sullenness.

"No way," Romulus replied. "Second best?"

"P J Harvey," Aisha replied stubbornly.

Romulus waved his wand. Without a word, Aisha went to the bathroom to look into the mirror. She did indeed bear a certain likeliness to the singer and guitar player, even though her new clothes were less conspicuous than P J Harvey's usual attire for promotional shots. With a shrug, she returned to him, only to find him a striking Latino reminding her of Antonio Banderas.

"Ready to go out?" he asked.

"I suppose," Aisha replied, once more thinking she shouldn't have come along.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked.

She named her favourite sushi place, certainly not expensive for sushi, but still something she had been rarely able to afford when she was still living in New York City. It had a sushi carousel and shiny chrome bar stools. Over pickled ginger and wasabi, the strange Latino flirted heavily with her, catching plates from the carousel, feeding her with his chopsticks. She even forgot for a moment that the two prisoners were in danger, one of them Romulus' twin brother and a nice, attractive man, the other one her best friend's lover. Occasionally, however, she thought of them. Then she wondered how Romulus could sit there, laughing, flirting, playfully using his fake appearance to his best advantage.

"Aren't you afraid for them?" she asked him. "How can you be in such a good mood?"

Romulus smiled slightly ruefully. "I'm afraid, and not only for them," he replied. "We're living in dangerous times, and we're in a dangerous place at the moment. I could be dead tomorrow - and so could you, even though I'm trying to protect you as well as I can. If I didn't enjoy tonight with you, it would be a shame."

"You think you will have to do something dangerous tomorrow?" Aisha inquired.

Romulus hesitated. Finally, he simply said: "Yes."

Aisha let her chopsticks rest on her plate, the Inari sushi forgotten. "You're not talking about fighting or anything, are you?"

"I sure hope it won't come to that," Romulus replied, not meeting her eyes.

"But you're on your own, and the prisoners are probably guarded by a number of people," Aisha objected.

Romulus shrugged. "If I have to, I will know where to find a few people to help me," he retorted. "Also, there are plenty of rented wands to be had around here." He put a hand on hers. "Don't worry - I'm quite fond of my life and won't take unnecessary risks. Also, there is a good possibility the problem can be solved with a little cash infusion."

"You must be filthily rich," was Aisha's unfiltered comment.

He laughed. "My uncle left me a buck or two, and I've been on two salaries for years - one for being a teacher at one of the most prestigious schools in the East, and one for my spy work. Add a couple of risk bonuses and a few well-played hands in the dirty game of politics, and you can't help having a few savings."

"What are you going to do with all that money?" Aisha asked.

"I've no clue," Romulus replied with a grin. "I kept telling myself I'd be self-employed one day, but I never really knew in which profession. Trouble was, I was already working in my dream job, so I had little reason for trying something else."

"What do you like so much about being a spy?" Aisha asked. It sounded like a trivial question, but to her, it seemed to be one of the chief clues to his personality.

He thought only for a moment. "Adventure. Risk. Power. Money. Pretty women." There was a hint of a challenge in his voice; his Banderas eyebrows arched provokingly. "Say, have you tried the salmon?"

"Salmon is bad for the environment. I'll stick with the veggie stuff," Aisha replied automatically. She took her inari sushi between her chopsticks and had a bite.

"Say, do you think me a terrible macho?" Romulus asked as if he could read her thoughts.

"Entirely," Aisha replied, swallowing hurriedly. "And I find it confirmed that you are a spy to boost your ego. It's like a pair of mental balls to you."

He laughed, bent forwards and kissed her on her nose. "You know what I dislike about P J Harvey?" he asked.

"No," she replied, totally perplexed.

"Her nose is too small," he told her.

*****************

Lying in her bed at night, waiting to fall asleep, Aisha found her thoughts could not help wander to the wizard lying in the room next to her. He'd kissed her nose. He'd been flirting with her. Forgotten seemed the days of depression, the days when he appeared to have forgotten his romantic interest in her. Aisha longed to get up, to knock at his door, to slip under his cover. She imagined his body under her hands, his warm and smooth skin. How would he react if she just went to him? Would he think her cheap? Would he even refuse her? Or was he maybe waiting for her on his side of the separating wall as she was waiting for him to come to her?

Suddenly, she found both of her bare feet on the carpet. Her body was making up her mind for her. If she didn't watch it, she'd be knocking on his door before she had even properly decided whether or not this was the right course of action. This would not do. She swung her feet back into bed and tried to find a comfortable position that would help her relax.

Then she heard footsteps on the hall, and her heartbeat flared up as if fired by gasoline. Was that Romulus coming to her? No, it was only someone passing her room. Disappointed, Aisha tried to fight down the adrenaline in her body.

It took her a long time to fall asleep that night.

*****************

After an early breakfast with Romulus, another day of waiting began for Aisha. By noon, she could not stand it any longer. She took out her address book and called a half-forgotten New York City phone number.

"Piercing Studio Age of Bondage, what can I do for you?"

The voice sounded unfamiliar. What should she do now? Should she give her name? Romulus wanted her to remain anonymous. However, it was already out. "Hi, my name is Aisha. I'm looking for René(e). Is she still working at the Studio?"

"René(e)? Yes, she's -"A short pause, probably a look around. "Yeah, hold on, I'll put you through."

After a short blast of heavily distorted music, René(e) herself came to the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi René(e), this is Aisha - you remember, the drummer?"

"Sure I remember you," the drummer of Lucullus and the Death Eaters replied without hesitation. "Nice to hear from you. Are you back in town?"

"Sort of. I'm here with a friend, and I admit we're in a bit of a fix. A wizard fix, that is."

René(e) whistled through her teeth. "A fix, I see. And now you're looking for someone to help you."

Aisha felt quite stupid. She shouldn't have called. "I'm not sure - maybe I only want advice, or at least someone for a chat. This friend of mine, he's convinced someone will Muggle-nap me the minute I set a foot outside this hotel room, and I'm going stir-crazy."

"I finish at five today," René(e) told Aisha. "Do you want to come over, have a cup of tea?"

"I'd love to," Aisha replied. "There's only one little thing."

"Which is?"

"Well, my friend changed my appearance, and now I look like a plastic and platinum doll. Don't be surprised when you don't recognize me at all."

"Alright." René did not sound totally convinced, but neither did she seem to change her mind about seeing Aisha. "Five thirty at the bagels shop around the corner from the Basilisk?"

"Five thirty it is." The location wasn't quite what Aisha would have chosen herself - after her unpleasant meeting with hitwizards in the Basilisk Bar, she didn't feel very comfortable there anymore. However, she wasn't going to let herself be intimidated by Romulus' attitude. She'd been fine by herself in all sorts of areas of New York City, among all sorts of witches and wizards, and besides that one event, she had never felt seriously threatened anywhere. She could be glad René(e) had agreed on meeting her at all, Aisha told herself, so she didn't argue about the location.

Aisha watched some meaningless soaps for the rest of the afternoon. Before she left, she wrote Romulus a note stating she had gone for a walk and would probably be back around seven thirty. He would worry anyway, so she was hoping to be back before he came. Then she left the room and hotel unhindered. She took the subway into East Village and got to the bagels shop shortly before René(e) arrived. The drag king was dressed in a sleek red and white leather jacket; her James Dean cut signalled fifties macho pride.

"Aish, buddy, nice to see you, even if you don't look like yourself at all." René(e), who had always been good at stating the obvious, slipped on the bench upholstered with artificial red leather. Somehow she looked as if designed for her surroundings.

"What can I get you?" Aisha asked, suddenly quite shy. René(e) was the kindest and least bizarre member of Lucullus and the Death Eaters, but not wholly unintimidating.

"Tuna on rye, never mind the dolphins, I love eating baby dolphins." René(e) grinned. Obediently, Aisha ordered for the two of them. For herself she chose default cream cheese, only half aware of what she was ordering. Her mind was elsewhere.

"So how can I help you in this big, bad wizard world, babe?" René(e) asked with her mouth full.

Aisha swallowed. The food seemed dry as paper in her mouth, although it wasn't the bagel's fault, the bagel was fine.

"Politics," she replied strangely hoarsely. "Magical Society and the like. Why they split up."

René(e) made a face as if wanting to emit a whistle, but obviously thought better of it in view of the food in her mouth. She swallowed, too, took a sip of her coke and retorted:

"My, you're not asking for trivia. Little Muggle girl and the pile of wizard shit. Are you sure you want to know?"

"I want to know about the recent development," Aisha explained. "Who's on which side, who is working with who."

"What in particular could you want from these people?" René(e)'s eyes narrowed.

Aisha did her best in assuming a firm, self-assured facial expression, suppressing all thoughts of how silly that would look on her sweet baby-doll face.

"On whose side are you, René(e)? The band?"

"On our own," René(e) replied firmly. "Not with anybody. Against a few people, that's for sure, but not with anybody."

"What about Muggles? Do you hate Muggles?" Aisha had to know.

"Not particularly." René(e) swallowed another bagel bite before elaborating: "I don't hate you, kid, and I hardly ever hate Muggles once I meet them. I hate their wars and politics, I hate pollution -"

Aisha found it too hard not to stare at René(e)'s coke can and tuna bagel.

"Okay, okay, babe," René(e) replied, getting the message anyway, "you're right. Wizards are slime. They are blaming the Muggles for the badness of the world without doing a thing against it. You see, most of us don't hate Muggles, we just pretend to. It's the same with the Magical Society - the old ones, that it. They bark, but they hardly ever bite. They talk about claiming world dominion, but they are usually too good-natured, if not too lazy, to shed Muggle blood. Give 'em a beer, and they remain peaceful. Now, the new ones, the ones have are split away - that's another matter altogether. They get into run-ins with their former buddies, and some of those street and club fights have been pretty vicious. These new ones, they like to see people die or suffer, some say."

"What do they want?" Aisha urged her on, whetting her lips with her water.

"They support some British upstart who's got a mighty chip on his shoulder - so mighty, in fact, that nobody dares even mentioning his name," René(e) said.

"Voldemort?" Aisha whispered.

"Holy shnirk," René(e) replied, "how do you know that name? Listen, kid, I hope you're not involved in their affairs. They're pretty nasty when it comes to Muggles."

"They've taken friends of mine prisoner," Aisha told her, throwing carefulness into the wind.

"And now you want to regain them yourself." René(e)'s voice was heavy with irony. "Nice going, kid. Little Aisha Riq is up against the big, bad hitwizards. Listen, if I were you, I'd make sure I'd runs as far as I could. Never mind freeing your prisoners. They'll be sent to that unnamed British jerk straight away, and don't think you could stop them without losing your own life."

"I'm not on my own," Aisha objected. René(e) looked sceptical.

"I'm only trying to look around a bit, see if I find someone who can tell me more," Aisha asked. "Do you have any idea where they might keep the prisoners?"

René(e) scratched her chin as if encouraging a stubble to grow there. "You know they might be everywhere in this whole city, in this country, brought out of the country - there is no whatsoever telling," she replied.

"But you hear things," Aisha insisted. "You hear people talk at the Basilisk or wherever. "Could you please tell me if you hear something? Maybe tell me the names of people I can ask? Please, help me." She tried her best pleading eyes, hoping they would work in her baby-doll face as well. René(e) only laughed.

"Alright, babe - you're really irresistible when you look like that, did anybody ever tell you? Anyway, I'll look around. As for a place to look - well, take your big bad wizard protector to the Basilisk, the Iron Wand or the Demdyke's. Just be careful - there's a lot of bad, bad witches and wizards about, eager to serve you for breakfast. These newly formed Death Eaters are nothing like the story about Britain we used to hear - highwayman romanticism, you name it. No, those guys here hurt and kill. Look out for hitwizards, too - maybe your friend isn't unjustly paranoid. And there's vampires and hags now - I even heard rumours of a werewolf on the loose. No, our Big Apple isn't the place it used to be. Nothing stays the same, you know." She sighed.

Aisha felt a shiver run down her spine. Thanking René(e) profusely for her semi-promise to look around a bit, Aisha paid for the food and drinks with some of the money Romulus had given her. Then she took the subway back to the hotel.

Aisha was glad to be home before Romulus, dreading to have to explain her absence. Still, she would have to do some explaining. There was something she had to tell him, and he would want to know where her knowledge came from.