Send My Regards

Chapter Three

"Where were you?"

Marcus froze stiff; halfway between shutting the door to his flat and turning inside. The lights didn't turn on as they usually did but he didn't need them. He pinpointed exactly where his father's menacing voice came from and finished shutting the door. "I went for a walk."

"Don't lie to me," William growled. "You didn't go asking for help like a pathetic girl did you?"

"No, father. I just needed some air after you left."

The lights came on, finally, and Marcus saw his father lounging on the black couch in his living room. A bottle of firewhiskey was in his hand.

"It's too bad. We could have had a pint; catch up on old times."

Marcus nodded and remained calm

"I want to take you somewhere tomorrow," William said. "You're going to meet some very important people."

"I have Quidditch practice."

William let out a chuckle. "Do you honestly think that any of that matters now? What have I told you?"

"Father...sooner or later they're going to ask where I've gone and why. What do you expect me to tell them?"

"That you've moved onto bigger and better things. The Dark Lord is very clever and can teach you these things. If anyone is nosy enough, they join or die."

Marcus's head was hurting now. He didn't want to start this all over again. Not now. Somehow, William sensed this but perceived it as submission again. "Get some sleep," he said to his son. "Tomorrow we start our new life."

***

"Oliver, this is really unnecessary. You don't have to walk me home," Katie said heavily as she trudged down the sidewalk to her flat.

Oliver was adamant. After hearing about Death Eaters so close to his small circle of friends, he decided that the protection of his 'team' was first priority. And if that meant he had to endure Katie's never-ending whining to make sure she got home safely, then so be it. He walked tall in front of Katie; focusing on their surroundings and checking every corner.

"Oliver, honestly," she sighed again. She hated walking. "We have a better chance of being attacked out here than we would if we just apparated."

"Be quiet," Wood barked. "You'll give away our position."

Just to spite him, Katie began to burst into song as loud and obnoxiously as she could; raising her arms to the sky and spinning in circles. Her performance was anything but delightful as the inhabitant of an upstairs flat shouted some random obscenity and threw an empty bottle of butterbeer at her. It shattered on the cement and Oliver quickly darted for Katie. He clamped his hand over her mouth to stifle her singing until she stopped and laughed instead, pinned against his chest as he hid them against the wall.

Katie smacked his hand away. "Let go you git," she laughed.

Oliver still remained tense in paranoia until Katie slammed her elbow into his stomach. He released her and sputtered; clutching his midsection as she walked away with an air of cockiness.

"That...was very rude," Oliver wheezed and staggered.

Katie stuck out her tongue. "Serves you right, perv."

He caught up with her. "How am I a perv?!"

"Feeling me up on the streets! Oliver, you cad!"

"What!? Katie, I would never! I was just trying to pr--!"

"Shhhh!" Katie whispered. "The Death Eaters will hear you!"

Oliver went white but then collected himself and glared. "That's not funny."

Katie was laughing at him now and continued to walk ahead.

Oliver fumed. "And I wasn't trying to pull anything with you!" he continued.

Shaking her head and grinning, Katie quickly said something to shut him up. "Honestly, Oliver, it was a joke! Relax!"

She let him walk by her side now. Both said nothing as they strolled and listened to the sounds of the night. Oliver was keeping vigil, of course, but Katie shuffled and watched the pebbles she kicked dart and bounce across the cement. Her feet carried her on their own accord and she thought a lot about what she had seen tonight. The more she contemplated it, the more emotions flooded her head. "Can you believe what happened tonight?" she asked softly.

"What?" Oliver replied. "You mean with Flint?"

"Yeah. Angelina looked so upset."

Oliver set his jaw and didn't respond. Angelina's sudden concern with Marcus didn't mean he had to start tolerating him. As a matter of fact, he hated Flint even more for causing all this trouble for her and getting her involved with Death Eaters. Not to mention he was a prat anyway.

Katie noticed him tensing and smiled. "You're jealous."

"Am not," Oliver grumbled. "What on earth do I have to be jealous about?"

She kept badgering him and poked his ribs. "Does ickle Oli Wood have a wee baby crush on Angelina Johnson?"

"No. He doesn't."

Katie watched his face for any hint of a blush but it was too dark out to see. "Well, why not?" she asked curiously. "She's been your best friend for years."

"One of them, yes. But that doesn't mean anything more."

"Why?"

Oliver paused and stared straight ahead as he walked. "Because," he said. "I have other...priorities."

"What are those?"

He stopped walking and was obviously avoiding the question. "This is your flat." Puzzlement came over Katie's features until she glanced to her right and saw her home. They were there already? "Wow," she said. "That was faster than I thought."

"I'll walk you to your door."

She grinned. "What a gentleman."

They both proceeded to walk down the cement path to her entryway. Once inside, the warm light was a welcome release from the dark evening and they climbed the stairs to Katie's door. She opened it and stepped inside while Oliver remained obediently in the hall.

"Thanks, Oliver," she said in the doorframe. "But let's not make this a habit. My feet are killing me now."

"Right," he replied. "Well, you're home safe now."

Katie raised her eyebrows. "Don't you want to come inside and make sure there are no monsters under my bed?"

A blush came over Oliver's cheeks but he reminded himself to take that as one of many sarcastic offers from Katie that usually meant nothing but trouble. "It's late."

Katie sighed and rolled her eyes. Oliver was no fun sometimes. He gave her a quick and shy nod and began to head back to the stairs. Katie watched him from her door. He certainly was a mystery. Maybe he wouldn't date Angelina because Marcus was in the way. Or maybe he was scared or trying too hard to be some perfect gentleman.

Or maybe he's just a dumb prude.

She tested the subject. "Oi, Wood?"

He turned and raised his eyebrows. "Yes?"

"Those priorities you mentioned. You never told me what they were."

Oliver stared at her for a moment as if still waiting for the question. He blinked and then nodded while looking at the wall. He already knew the answer in his head but just couldn't say it. Not here. "Goodnight, Katie," he said and then disapperated away.

***

The sun came up much faster than Marcus anticipated. The night seemed to last for years when you can't sleep but just when you think you could doze off, daylight peeks over the horizon. Marcus had to admit he was scared; too scared to sleep, too scared to eat, too scared to do anything but spend the night pacing in his lounge. He was exhausted both physically and mentally and shook from lack of sleep and stress.

His father had put enough trust in Marcus to leave him alone in his flat overnight but promised to return first thing in the morning to retrieve him. If Marcus left, William had threatened to do unspeakable things that couldn't be risked.

Marcus wanted to shower and eat but every time he made an effort to accomplish those tasks, he felt sick and became instantly distracted. He needed some air; that's what he decided. Panting and trembling all over, he donned his black hooded jacket and swiftly opened his front door.

"Ah!"

"Good, you're ready," William said from the hall.

Marcus was having a heart attack. "Shit! How long have you been standing there?"

"Why?" William growled. "Not thinking of running away are we?"

"No."

"Good. I'd hate to think my own son was a coward."

Marcus scowled. Just like you, eh? He left his flat and shut the door. "Where are we going?"

"Put your hood up and don't say a word." William stepped behind Marcus and pressed a wand against his back; hidden by his sleeve. "Walk."

Marcus did exactly as he was told. He contemplated apparating but William quickly dashed that idea. "If you try to escape, always remember that I found you once and I can find you again. Now move."

They began walking; Marcus with a wand against his back and the promise of sudden death should he try to escape. They left his flat and walked down the street without as much as a suspicious stare.

"Make a left," William said at the first street. "We're taking a portkey into London."

Marcus silently obeyed. Every time he thought of escaping, he felt the wand digging into his spine. They crossed the street and entered an alley behind a drugstore before coming to a halt next to a rusty trash can.

Marcus snorted. "Nice portkey, dad."

"Shut up and hold on."

Seconds later, after the tug and vertigo of traveling subsided, they landed in London. This time, however, it wasn't the busy and bright streets of Diagon Alley but rather the bowels of its slums. Marcus read the sign post.

Knockturn Alley.

He thought this was a huge joke if he ever saw one and when he turned to question his father, he was treated with a rough push. Marcus set aside all remarks for later and carried on. However, when they reached the entrance to a small and dingy inn, he had to cast his dad a peculiar look. This was where they were going to meet Voldemort? At some cockroach infested shack? He expected some underground lair or at least something more...sinister.

"You're kidding right?"

William pushed him inside. "In."

When Marcus stumbled into the door, the inside of the inn wasn't unlike the Leaky Cauldron. It was dark, grey, poorly lit, and filled with ratty-looking regulars all grumbling over their brew. None of them bothered to lift their heads and pay Marcus and William any attention. Not even the barkeep who continued to polish a stein with a dirty rag as the two walked past him and towards a cellar door. Now Marcus knew why his father had chosen this inn. No one seemed to care that they were practically trespassing.

William quietly lifted the latch off the wooden door and with a quick glance to make sure no one was watching, guided them through and then closed the door behind them. Everything went pitch black.

"Lumos maxima," William said and the tip of his wand now brightly illuminated their path; no longer serving as a weapon. There was no where for Marcus to go anyway.

They were in what looked like a damp tunnel only ten feet high and five feet wide but infinitely long. Marcus couldn't see the other end no matter how hard he squinted. It was a never-ending black void. Spiders and water alike both scurried along the stone walls. All was deathly silent as well except for a distant roar like the ocean and the smell of sour mildew.

"Walk," William instructed and they began moving forward across the dirt ground.

Marcus looked around warily even though there was little space to absorb. The light of his father's wand really seemed useless as the only way one could possibly walk was forward. There were no obstacles, no intersections, no dips but he did notice they were beginning to descend slightly deep into the bowels of the earth. The further they walked, the smaller the tunnel seemed to get. It was growing cold now and made Marcus feel like he would reach Hades before they got anywhere relevant. He quickened his pace. Something about being trapped in the dark sparked a dormant fear in him but the tunnel seemed to never end. It felt like they'd been walking for miles into nothingness until, finally, William put a hand on Marcus's shoulder and they stopped.

Marcus turned and saw his father pointing his wand at another wooden door. He hadn't even seen it; so focused on reaching the end of the tunnel. Grateful to be out of that dark hell, he opened the door and came across a stone staircase. Obviously, he knew to climb and did so quickly. Up was definitely better than down. The staircase curved slightly left and came to an abrupt stop at another door. Marcus went to instinctively push that door open before his father's orders.

"Marcus, wait!"

Too late. He lifted the latch and pushed through only to be grabbed roughly by the arms and slammed against a stone wall. Paralyzed in shock and the sudden torch light that illuminated the room he entered, Marcus found himself facing two very large and angry hooded men with wands aimed directly at his face.

"What's this?" one said eagerly. "My, my, didn't we wander down the wrong path?"

The other man jabbed his wand into the flesh of Marcus's neck. "An innocent bystander? Or maybe just some target practice, yeah?"

"Actually, no," William said calmly, entering the room. "He's my son. Release him immediately."

The two hooded Death Eaters exchanged bewildered glances and then grinned; still not easing off Marcus who was slowly regaining his ability to think and two seconds away from rendering the two men sterile forever with his foot.

"You didn't tell us you were bringing company today," one Death Eater said.

"Surprise," William replied sarcastically. "Now release him. I've important matters to attend to with him."

Reluctantly, the two Death Eaters slowly released Marcus. They were rather looking forward to being able to hex someone into oblivion but William's word overruled their desire for sick fun.

Marcus straightened his shirt, cracked his neck, and rammed his shoulder into them as he passed. William noticed the display of testosterone and sharply placed his hand on the back of Marcus's neck to control his every step. "You'd better learn some respect down here," he growled low in his throat. "Or else you're going to get yourself killed."

"So what? Better you than them or something?"

No longer needing a light from his wand, he went back to jabbing it in Marcus's back. "Watch your attitude."

They walked down a small hallway lit by torches but just as dank as the cellar tunnel until they reached another door. This time, this one was iron and William signaled Marcus to open it. When he did, he had to step back and shield his eyes from the bright light that suddenly flooded him. He stood there for a moment until William gave him another shove and shut the door behind them. Marcus finally allowed his eyes to adjust and almost felt he needed another minute, now, to soak in what he was seeing. Natural magical illumination made the room a stark contrast from the path they had just finished. Dirt walls were replaced by black marble that seemed to sparkle on its own accord like glass. A fireplace burned peacefully at the far end of the room where the smoke collected in a chimney and magically vanished into nothing. The floor was a dark hard wood adorned with expensive fur rugs and tables and around the biggest table in the center of the room were twelve wooden chairs and one empty space directly ahead of where Marcus stood. Occupying two of those chairs were a pair of people he really had no desire to ever see again in his life.

Lucius Malfoy and Addison Nott leaned forward against the glass table and folded their hands. The stirrers in their steamy mugs of tea magically kept swirling against the brim.

"Ah, William," Lucius said but his menacing glare never left Marcus. "On time as usual."

"I wouldn't be late for this," William said.

"Please young Flint," Nott said to Marcus. "Have a seat."

Marcus didn't move. That is, until the scraping sound of something dragging across wood from behind quickly caught his attention. He glanced over his shoulder only for a moment before a chair collided with the back of his knees and he collapsed back into the seat; clutching the armrests. The chair continued to quickly drag across the floor until it came to a sharp halt at the empty space of the table. Immediately, magical binds emerged from the armrests and tangled themselves around Marcus's wrists; holding him tight. This was the last thing he needed to calm his nerves. He tugged at them and stared at his father for any sort of explanation or help. William only smiled and sauntered over to the fireplace.

The silence and smugness of the three men were anything but good indications. They had this planned, whatever it was; all of it. He was just the last piece of the puzzle. Tonight would be the night that he would spell his fate and make either the worst or best decision of his life.