The Traveler's Secret

CHAPTER 12 JEAN FULVER'S FIRST QUIDDITCH MATCH

Golden veils of sunlight fell around Jean, Sergei and Tom as they waved goodbye to the caretaker, Mr. Borden. After the caretaker had given Tom Jr. a large leather bag, he returned the farewell, a foolish smile smeared all over his face. Fulver gave a quick nod to Borden, quite glad that they were parting ways with the caretaker. Fulver, Sergei and Tom had spent most of the morning in the doltish man's company, and Jean had never been as happy as to leaving it. Although he had forced himself to be polite as did the others, Mr. Borden had gotten on his last nerves.

Mr. Borden was a plump man, with an easy going manner. He was responsible for all that happened in or around the castle, often cleaning up messes, or apprehending pranksters. Most teachers were kind to him, knowing that he was hardworking, but not the smartest man around. He was considered to be a harmless halfwit, foolish, but nothing to be worried about.

Borden liked most people, but was loyal to a select few. Those few were the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore and Professor Frederick. Dumbledore and the Headmaster he respected, but Frederick he adored. In his eyes Professor Frederick could do no wrong.

This jovial and not too bright caretaker had accompanied Jean, Sergei and Tom about the grounds, telling stories of various statues and paintings they passed, filling in where Tom couldn't. He was honored to have been chosen by Dumbledore to show special guests around the castle. He took pride in all the knowledge he had accumulated, ecstatic that he finally had someone to tell it all too.

Tom, use to the caretaker's ways, had found a way to tune him. Fulver wanted nothing better than pull his own eyes out, the constant barrage of useless information slowly driving him mad, but Sergei was perhaps the most diplomatic of the trio. He listened to Mr. Borden with the utmost politeness, sometimes asking questions, or answering any of Borden's inquiries.

If Jean was fascinated by Hogwarts, then Sergei could be said to be in love and heartbroken at the same time. Here was a place that Krum had always wanted to be a part of, and a place that he would never fit into. Krum longed more than ever before that he could do magic, the old ache of disappointment that he had felt since he was a child throbbing once again.

Soon though, as the afternoon slowly settled into evening, it was time for the trio to part ways with Mr. Borden, and head down to the Quidditch field.

The walk down the hill towards the field was a mixture of fun and danger. With the ground still muddy from yesterday's downpour, it became a contest of wills to see who could stay on their feet longer. Sergei and Jean took the contest seriously, and Tom was just glad to have to someone to watch the game with. Fulver felt the excitement and anticipation for the match grow with every step that brought him closer to the stadium. And he wasn't the only one. All around Tom, Sergei and Jean, children and teachers cascaded down the hillside, the roar of their voices rolling down after them. Opaline light shone out of every face, as a hot breeze of excitement swiftly ran its fingers through the crowd.

As they neared the Quidditch stadium, Fulver became intrigued by how it was set up. Surrounding the oval field, towers rose up to the sky, indenting into its perfect blue surface. Each house proudly displayed its colors on a tower. Seats were in the upper part of the huge edifices, which was not something that Fulver was use to seeing. Tom led Fulver and Sergei to a staircase that led up into the yellow and black Hufflepuff tower. Up and up they went, winding their way to the top, following the flowing black robes of students. Everything charmed Fulver from the wooden struts to the well worn railings, but nothing compared to the view they had once they reached the top, and looked out over the field.

The Hufflepuff tower was right in the center, commanding an impressive view of the stadium. On both sides of the field, three huge hoops on fifty foot stems pierced the sunny sky. From what Tom told Fulver, that was were teams scored using a round, red ball called the Quaffle. All around them, the stands on either side or opposite of them were packing themselves, seas of black robes rippling as students filed into their seats. Banners and flags supporting one team or the other waved fanatically in the air. The mid afternoon breeze cooled everyone from the rays of the warm summer sun. In all, it was a perfect day for a game.

Fulver, Jean and Tom settled themselves in the second row, surrounded by animated children of all ages. Tom pulled out three pairs of binoculars from the bag Borden had given him, and handed them to Jean and Sergei. Both men took their binoculars with relish, electrified by the excitement around them.

Opposite the Hufflepuff tower, Fulver watched as one of the teams marched onto the field. They were dressed completely in red and gold, waving enthusiastically at the crowd, who erupted in applause and screams of joy. A quarter of the crowd booed. Most of that came from the tower just to the right of them. When Fulver looked, he noticed the recognizable silver and green colors.

The Gryffindor team was of average build, not too small, but not giants, and half the team were girls. Jean watched through his binoculars as they waved back to the crowd, electrifying their fans. An up swell of applause roared through the stadium, causing ripples of energy around Fulver. Jean could tell that, despite their smaller builds, they were confident. They were, after all, from the house of the brave.

Next Slytherin came out. The happiness that had once filled the air for Gryffindor turned to a sour dislike. Boos echoed throughout the stadium, punctuated by strangled, fierce cries of applause. The people in the Slytherin tower were wild, seeing as they were the only ones who were really rooting for Slytherin. When Fulver looked through his binoculars at the Slytherin team, he noticed that they looked more like giant thugs than anything else, without an inch of a smile on their lips. They glared over at the Gryffindor team, and Fulver knew this match was going to be brutal.

As the teams waited on the field for the game to begin, Fulver was surprised by a jab of an elbow into his side. Jerking the binoculars from his face, he whipped his head around to see who the offender was, and noticed that Sergei Krum was pointing at an approaching figure. Johnny Wolfbane waded through the crowded row, slowly making his way to Sergei, Jean and Tom. He looked different, less wild without his bloodstained leather vest. He was dressed in a simple black robe, his long black hair neatly pulled back. He looked like any of the other people here, except that he was extremely tall, and seemed to be made completely out of muscle. A wide smile spread over his face as he made his way down the row towards them. Fulver had never seen the man smile, and was sure that Wolfbane rarely did because the grin on his face was frightening.

Tom Jr.'s eyes widened in awe as Wolfbane approached, seeming to have found another person to worship besides Fulver. Jean smiled inwardly at the boy's innocence. Sergei Krum, on the other hand, didn't seem to be too comfortable around Wolfbane, his obvious fear all over his face. Wolfbane sat next to Jean, causing a tidal wave of terror amongst the Hufflepuff kids. The ones nearest to Johnny scooted away, trying to avoid making any eye contact with him. They could sense that he was dangerous, could feel his animalistic energy radiating from him.

"We haven't seen you for awhile Wolfbane. What have you been up to my furry friend?" Fulver said, a slight mischievous grin marking his face.

Sergei nearly keeled over when Fulver finished his question, his mouth slack in astonishment, waiting for a reaction from Wolfbane. Johnny turned his odd violet colored eyes on Fulver, who unflinchingly stared back, and analyzed Jean for a moment. Fulver really didn't know how Wolfbane would react to his statement. A part of him wanted to scramble as far away from Johnny as possible, but the rebel in him wanted to see how this obviously bigger opponent would react. If it came to a confrontation, though Fulver would probably lose to Wolfbane, he would stand his ground none the less.

"I've been helping Dumbledore with something. He may have come up with a solution for us," Wolfbane stated in a smooth, unruffled voice.

He quickly scanned the crowd around them, looking to see if anybody was listening. Nobody paid attention to the three men and boy. The game had started, and every pair of eyes except the men's were on the field. Fulver was disappointed that he hadn't seen the start of his first Quidditch game, but he was glad that some good news had come from Wolfbane.

"That's great!" said a now inquisitive Krum.

All fear that Sergei had, was pushed aside for the tiniest fragment of hope. Krum really must be desperate to rid himself of the plans, thought Fulver, but then Jean couldn't really blame Krum for being so.

"Does Dumbledore need any help? Not that I would be of much help, especially since the plans are..."

Sergei stopped talking when he saw the obvious warning that turned Wolfbane's face to stone. Johnny's eyes flickered to the crowd around them, who were caught up in the game, but one could never be too careful. Krum blushed, and looked back at the field, trying hard not to notice the anger and irritation spreading in Wolfbane's face

Idiot! That was all that Fulver could think of about Krum, once again finding his annoyance for the man overcoming his momentary lapse into empathy. Jean knew how a spy worked, how they blended into the crowd, and pretended to be paying attention to the event in front of them, but were really closely watching their prey. And what's worse, but now Tom was curious as to what Sergei was referring to. He looked at Jean and Sergei, almost waiting for them to explain. If a child could catch on, it would be in no time at all before Grindelwald found Sergei.

Jean turned back to the game, holding his binoculars close to his face. He saw Wolfbane do the same, though did notice that Johnny shook his head in disapproval. Tom still waited for an explanation, but soon realized that nobody was in the mood to talk, much less give him an answer.

The three men and the boy sat awkwardly stiff as they pretended to watch the match. Fulver found that the fierce game played on broomsticks would have been entertaining if he could just turn his brain off. He felt Johnny on one side of him, and Sergei on the other. He saw Krum's constant glances over at Wolfbane, half eager to know more, but mostly terrified to ask. Fulver noticed how thin Wolfbane's lips became as the match continued, a line of tension, annoyance and anger. Tom jr. was the only one who watched the game with any pleasure, glancing over at Fulver every few moments, looking for the Muggle's approval of the match. Jean gave him a wane smile, which seemed to appease the boy.

Soon though the tension in between the men ebbed, and Fulver could watch the game with some measure of enjoyment. Jean's binoculars rarely left his face, jerking left and right, up and down as he followed the progression of the players. He even caught himself cheering every time Gryffindor scored, stopped Slytherin from scoring, or in general worked the other team over.

Gryffindor had style and grace in the air, using a strategically bold plan. Though their plan was not always made up with the smartest moves, it definitely had the strongest plays. Slytherin on the other hand, had a little bit more cunning, dealing out low blows, obvious fouls, and in general, never played by the rules. There was more than one time where a Gryffindor player came close to being severely injured, and the Gryffindor seeker was always a prey of Bludgers.

Fulver had become so caught up in the game that he had completely forgotten about the tension between his companions. When he looked over, he noticed that the spell of anxiety had broken. Sergei was enthusiastically talking with Tom over Quidditch strategy, and Wolfbane would sometimes join into the conversation. Fulver didn't know too much about Quidditch strategical tactics yet, seeing as this was the first time he had ever seen such a game. He turned his binoculars back to the field, following his favorite players, and picking up more and more fragments of the sport.

Fulver oftentimes found himself looking over at the Slytherin tower, especially after Gryffindor scored. The disappointment and anger in the Slytherins' faces was oddly satisfying for the Frenchman, but one face unnerved him. Tom Riddle never seemed to be too moved by the game. He didn't cheer with the other Slytherins, or boo with them. The kids in the Slytherin tower seemed like happy bright children compared to Riddle. No, Riddle watched the game with a cold intensity as if he were dissecting it apart. He showed no emotions at all, and that frightened Fulver more than he thought it should. One time Fulver had caught the boy's diamond edged eyes looking at him. Jean shuddered as a horrific grin edged over the boy's face. Fulver had never seen such a demonic face on a child before. He didn't turn away, determined not to allow Riddle to intimidate him, but soon, for one reason or another, Riddle shifted his eyes from Fulver on his own volition.

Jean turned back to the game as well, but found he could no longer concentrate on its moving parts. His thoughts were trapped in the maze of questions that raced through his mind as he wondered again about the boy named Riddle. He tried to follow his favorite players, but always ended up scanning the crowd, heading in the direction of the Slytherin tower.

His mind was so preoccupied by Riddle, that Fulver had not been prepared for the person he thought he had seen sitting amongst the crowd in the tower opposite of them. He had been following the Gryffindor Seeker, determined not to look at the Slytherin tower, when his eyes had caught sight of what he had thought to be a ghost. His binoculars raced back to the spot where he had seen the apparition, looking for the familiar brown curls and emerald green eyes. Fulver's head darted back and forth, sifting through the crowd. Just when he thought his imagination had fooled him, he caught the glint of green out of his binoculars. There was a man who sat in the back row of the tower opposite the field from Fulver that Jean could swear he knew.

Fulver had only been able to catch glimpses of the man's profile, but Fulver was sure he would have recognized Marius' face and eyes anywhere.

His binoculars remained on the man, his rational mind reminding him that he had seen Marius die, and that this was just someone who looked like his friend, but another part of him wondered, in horror, if maybe Marius had lived, and Jean had left him. Maybe this man was his friend. Maybe he too had been following Sergei all this time. But if so, why hadn't he made contact with Jean?

Questions and doubts whirled through his mind, and he knew the only way he would know the truth was if the man turned his head. He had to see the stranger straight on. Catching glimpses of a profile through the crowd was not enough proof. Jean's hands tightened on the binoculars, pain shooting through his tense fingers. His eyes hurt from how hard he held the binoculars to his face. Tom Riddle, the game, everything seemed to have disappeared in Fulver's mind. All his thoughts were centered on this mysterious man in the back row of the tower opposite of them.

He hadn't even realized the game had ended until Sergei had jabbed Jean in the ribs. The blow had so startled him that his binoculars had slipped from his hands. Jean glared at the overexcited Krum who was jumping up and down like a little boy. Fulver scramble to get the binoculars in his hand, and jerked it back in the direction he had had them.

He couldn't find the man Jean had thought had been Marius again. The crowd in the opposite tower were on their feet, and moving toward the tower exit. Frustrated, he turned toward Sergei wanting to strike the man. Sergei was happy because Gryffindor had won, and Fulver found that he couldn't be mad at Krum. Jean had never seen Krum as he saw him now. Light shone out of Sergei's face, his eyes beaming with joy as he celebrated with Tom.

Fulver wasn't really angry at Krum, just frustrated with all these unanswered questions he had. The more and more he thought about the man in the crowd, the more and more Jean found how ridiculous his reaction had been. Marius was dead, and maybe a part of Jean had hoped that his friend had somehow lived, but his friend would only be a memory, and the sooner that Jean got used to that idea the better.

Tom, Johnny and Sergei had waited until most of the Hufflepuff tower had cleared out before they got up. When everyone else had gone the three men and the boy got up, and walked down and out of the tower, their words ricocheting off each other as they talked of the game. Jean would add a comment here and there, but his mind couldn't let go of the man in the back row.

The farther away they got from the stadium, the more Jean slowly pushed the thought of the man from his mind. Finally they reached the castle, much later than any of the other people. Tom led Sergei, Johnny and Jean to the teacher's corridor telling them that dinner would be served in an hour, and then left. Johnny waited until no one was around, and then turned towards his companions.

"Dumbledore would like to see you," Johnny pointed at Krum, "and YOU," Wolfbane said the last word with menace as he pointed at Fulver, "in his office tomorrow. We'll meet outside the Great Hall after breakfast, and I'll escort the both of you there."

"Why does he want to see us now?" Jean asked bluntly, Sergei closely listening for the answer.

Wolfbane glared at Jean, annoyed by the man's questioning, rebellious nature.

"Outside the Great Hall after breakfast!" Johnny snapped, and then strode away.

"That's not an answer!" Fulver yelled at the retreating American.

When Wolfbane didn't turn around, Jean shrugged and headed towards his room. Sergei kept in stride with the Frenchman, rambling on about the game, the castle, and everything else that had happened that day. Jean nodded when appropriate, but couldn't concentrate on Krum's words. He found that he had promised to go with Sergei down to the Great Hall for dinner, and that they would sit with Tom again, but he didn't really know why he had said that.

When they reached Jean's room, Krum waved goodbye and headed on. Fulver gave him a half wave, and opened his door. A letter, which had been wedged under the door, shot into Jean's room. The candles inside the room burst into light as they always did, and Fulver could now see the mysterious letter that had shot into his quarters. He bent down to pick up the letter.

It wasn't anything odd, or seemingly dangerous, just a light, thin envelope, blank on the outside except his name in the center. Jean was curious as to what was inside, but knew that he should probably wait for Dumbledore and the others. It could be some dangerous magic he had never seen before, but the thought of being cowed in by an envelope pricked Jean's pride. He savagely ripped the top of the envelope off, waiting apprehensively for something to happen. Nothing did, and he realized how foolish his action had been. What if something had happened, but it hadn't only taken him out, but Sergei right next door, and 1000 feet around Sergei? He had to be more careful next time, but the threat wasn't over yet. He still didn't know what was inside his curious find.

Fulver extracted a single sheet of plain white paper. Holding it up at its corners, Jean noticed that the letter only contained two sentences. They were written in an untidy, but recognizable scrawl.

It said:

Money is a materialistic, human idea. We should strive for worthier items.

Jean felt as if the words had knocked the air from his lungs. He found it hard to breathe as his eyes stared at the letter. A thousand thoughts swirled like a tornado through his mind. He could hardly believe what it was he was seeing.

Jean would have recognized Marius' words and penmanship anywhere.