Borrowed Time

November 10, 1969

5:46 pm

Little Hangleton

Titus Mortimer was not in Britain when the All Souls Day Massacre shook fear into the heart of every British witch and wizard. He was in Russia, negotiating with Soviet officials concerning amnesty for him and his fellow Death Eaters, as Voldemort had told him that this was the new name for the Hadethanasia. When he returned to England, he was furious to hear about Cosmo's stunt in Diagon Alley. So furious, in fact, that he called for a meeting with Cosmo in Little Hangleton.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Titus roared at Cosmo, who was sitting across from his desk. "Do you have any idea what this means?!"

Cosmo remained calm, smirking just enough to annoy Titus. "What seems to be the big problem, sir?"

"Don't pull that shit on me," Titus growled menacingly. "You've got a lot of explaining to do."

"Why should I explain anything for you?" Cosmo replied smugly.

"You went over my head, you bastard."

"With Lord Voldemort's approval."

Cosmo's smirk grew wider as the color drained from Titus's face. "What do you mean?"

Cosmo stood. "Why don't you ask him? In the meantime, I have better things to do than explain myself to you." Before Titus could say anything else, Cosmo was out the door and Disapparated.

Titus leaned back into his chair. It was truly troubling that Cosmo had really gotten his approval for the massacre from the Dark Lord. Cosmo was an animal, plain and simple; a beast tethered by the Dark Lord's leash. To set him loose on the world would only make matters worse. Cosmo did not have the appreciation for subtlety and intelligence that Titus had. Cosmo sought blood, not caring about the means by which he got it. To go on the rampages that Cosmo and some of his fellow Death Eaters desired would only open them up to attack. Their brawn would be their greatest weakness and Titus knew it. He scribbled a note to Lord Voldemort and sent his best owl to deliver it. Titus needed to sort a few things out with him.

November 12, 1969

Ministry of Magic, London

9:00 am

"I did manage to find something of interest at the Hamilton house," Moody told Weisel that morning as they entered the lift to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"What?" Weisel asked, as a wispy witch got onto the lift.

"A series of letters, all corresponding with the same person, practically spelling out the plans for the massacre" Moody explained. "These weren't just letters to Sextus Hamilton, though. We found some addressed to his mother and brother."

"So our suspicions were correct," Weisel reasoned.

Moody sighed. "Yes. Too bad we didn't know that at the time."

The lift stopped and the two men got out, Weisel leading Moody towards his office. "What do you mean?"

"We had to release them on the fourth. We got pressure from the Minister about holding them without sufficient evidence and had to let them go."

Weisel shook his head. "Idiots," he hissed. "Why don't we just arrest them again now that we have the evidence?"

"Can't," Moody replied bluntly. "They've disappeared."

"Damn it!" Weisel exclaimed, slamming himself down into his office chair. "We had them, we had all we needed right there!"

"I know," Moody agreed, taking a seat in the chair across from Weisel. "Nothing we can do about it now, I'm afraid. Needless to say, both Crouch and Madam Bones are furious."

"Understandable," Weisel muttered, chewing on his lower lip. "You said that the Hamiltons exchanged letters with someone. Who was it?"

"Someone by the name of Cosmo Delmonte," answered Moody. "I had a background check run on him. He graduated from Slytherin House, Hogwarts in 1965. Comes from a well-to-do pureblood family here in Britain. His father was a bigwig at Gringotts for many years. In some letters, Delmonte was referred to as 'Crank' and Hamilton 'Bust'."

The pieces suddenly began to fall into place in Weisel's mind. "Sean Benton's misplaced letter used those names."

Moody nodded. "But we still don't know who 'Traveler' is."

"Did we ever find anyone around Benton that would have received that letter?"

"No," Moody replied. "If there was anyone there, the place must pretty well hidden."

"Damn," Weisel swore. "Do we have any pictures of Delmonte?"

"Just his graduation photo," Moody replied, procuring the said photo from his robes.

Weisel studied it closely. Cosmo was dressed in his finest emerald green robes, a smug smile filling his bullish face. He could tell that the boy was nothing but a regular street thug, no matter what his breeding was. It didn't surprise him at the least that Cosmo was involved in the massacre. "I want this man tracked, I want photos, and I want to know who is other friends are. If Delmonte was important enough to organize this attack, he may the closest link to this Voldemort that we have."

"What if he is Voldemort?"

The Chief Auror shrugged. "Maybe. If so, then all the better for us."

"I'll see if I can get him tracked down," said Moody. "Do you want to just put him under surveillance or should we arrest him as well?"

"Let's just watch him for a while," replied Weisel. "When the time comes, we'll nab him. If we capture him too early, we ruin our chances of finding out who his comrades are."

"Understood," Moody replied. "I'll see what I can do about that. We have managed to track down his last known address here in London. If he thinks that he's still quite hidden, then there's no reason he shouldn't still be there."

"Sounds good to me," said Weisel. "Start there."

"Got it," Moody said and he bustled out of the office to his own cubicle in the Auror Headquarters.

Weisel chewed on his lower lip. He hoped the strategy would work, it was all the Ministry had. After the All Souls Massacre, whatever group Cosmo ran (or seemed to run, for all they knew) had shown itself to be volatile and not unwilling to go to extreme measures. Weisel could only pray that nothing quit as drastic as the massacre would be anywhere in the near future.

He had to take his mind off the current situation. Almost absentmindedly, he checked his office owl mail. He still did not hear a response from Albus Dumbledore. Sighing, he wrote the Headmaster another letter, requesting a meeting time and place. Weisel knew that what he (and most of the Ministry, in fact) needed was the old man's wisdom. He had, after all, been through this before.

December 23, 1969

London

5:32 pm

Titus never thought that he would sink so low as to ask a favor from Cosmo Delmonte. Yet here he was, freezing in the December chill, standing outside the door of Cosmo's impressive London townhouse. He rang the doorbell again, hoping the sick bastard would at least have enough heart to open it.

Cosmo finally did. "Titus!" he exclaimed in a sickeningly friendly manner. "Why whatever brings you out here? Caroling perhaps?"

"Sure," Titus sneered. "I'm surprised you actually decided to open the door for me."

"Why it's Christmas, Titus!" Cosmo continued in his nauseating tone. "The season of charity and brotherhood."

"Shove it," growled Titus.

"What brings you out here? Surely you're not here to spread holiday cheer."

"I have a favor to ask of you," Titus muttered.

"Yes...?"

Titus drew an ugly face. "I can't seem to be able to contact Lord Voldemort. He must've changed his means of communication. You wouldn't happen to know how to contact the Dark Lord, would you?"

Cosmo leaned boyishly against the open doorway. "Sure I do."

"Can I have his contact information?"

Cosmo couldn't help but smirk. "Why should I give it to you?"

Titus was losing his patience. He'd dealt with toddlers that were more mature than this beast. "Because I need to speak with him, seeing as I'm his top aide."

The smirk grew wider. "Are you?"

Titus lost his patience. He shoved the younger man inside and grabbed his collar with one hand and stuck his wand in Cosmo's face with the other, his eyes ablaze. "Listen, you little brat," he hissed, "I made you! I made all of you! I created this organization and Voldemort would still be nothing but a loudmouthed revolutionary if it weren't for me! Now give me the goddamn information!"

Cosmo managed to wrangle himself from Titus's death-grip. "Follow me," he replied in a deadpan voice, but his eyes revealed the burning anger within. He led Titus into the study, where he scribbled an address onto a slip of parchment. He handed it to Titus. "Any decent owl will know how to get there," he explained. "This is all I have."

Titus took the parchment with a bit of apprehension. He wouldn't put it past Cosmo to lie to him. "Thanks," he muttered, watching Cosmo very closely. He led himself back to the door. Just as he was about to step out, he called back to Cosmo, "By the way, I'd watch your back if I were you. It seems that the Ministry may be closing in on you."

"How do you know that?" Cosmo asked incredulously.

Titus smirked. "Let's just say that I still have contacts in the Ministry. You see? I'm still good for something." With that he swept back out into the winter cold.

February 12, 1970

London

12:13 pm

Marcus Weisel had returned home for lunch from work (which was a rarity) when Alastor Moody came knocking. Weisel opened his flat's door and showed Moody in. "What brings you over here?" he asked the other Auror.

"We finally got some good photos of Delmonte," Moody replied in an excited tone, his dark eyes shining with anticipation. He pulled out a folder from his robes.

"Show me! Show me!" Weisel demanded in an equally excited voice.

Moody didn't need another invitation. He bustled into the flat and laid the photographs from the folder out on Weisel's coffee table. Black and white, they showed Cosmo conversing with others, their eyes darting about, or just walking to and from his London home. Weisel was ecstatic at the prospect of the information they contained. "Any idea who these people are that he's with?"

"Actually yes," Moody replied. The answer surprised Weisel. It wasn't usual for the Ministry to be so on top of things. "This man," he continued, pointing to a late middle-aged gentleman with dark hair, "we know to be Malcom Rosier. His son's in Hogwarts right now. He's in a lot of these pictures with Delmonte. Now this man--" he pointed out a distinguished thirty-something man with refined features and light hair "--we found to be someone called Titus Mortimer. We don't know that much about him except that he graduated Hogwarts in 1959. The others, we don't know who they are."

Weisel looked at the photographs containing Malcom Rosier and Titus Mortimer. "Do we know a lot about Rosier?"

"Quite a bit. He's a pretty influential member of wizard society, in pure-blood circles that is."

"Alright, get surveillance on him as well."

"Already started it," Moody replied proudly.

Weisel turned to the other man and smiled. "Good job. You're a better investigator than I thought, and that's saying something." He returned his attention to the photographs. "I'll have to look into this Titus Mortimer. Do we know anything else about him?"

Moody shook his head. "Not much, except that he graduated from Ravenclaw. It seems that his records from Hogwarts or the Ministry are missing."

"Probably not by accident," Weisel muttered. "I'll look into him when I get back to work."

Moody rose to his feet. "Well, I just wanted to show you these while I knew that you were at home. I'm gonna head on out, then."

"See you around, Moody," Weisel called as Moody was heading towards the door. "Thanks for the photos."

"See you at the Ministry," Moody called, shutting the door behind him.

Weisel finished his lunch and returned to his office just before he would be considered late. When he opened his office door, he was startled to find none other than Albus Dumbledore patiently waiting.

"Headmaster Dumbledore!" Weisel exclaimed.

Dumbledore turned calmly towards him. "I got your letters, Marcus. I'm sorry that I never got around to responding to them."

"Oh, not a problem," Weisel said, showing Dumbledore to a chair. Weisel took his chair behind his desk. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"You said that you wanted to ask me a few questions about your investigation," Dumbledore replied calmly, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.

Still a bit unnerved by the headmaster's unexpected presence, Weisel's mind went blank for a moment before coming to. He pulled out the photographs of Titus Mortimer. "Do you know anything about him?"

Dumbledore studied the photographs for a moment or two. "Who is this man?"

"Titus Mortimer."

"Ah, yes! A Ravenclaw! I remember him now."

"What do you know about him?"

Dumbledore pondered for a moment. "He was a very intelligent young man while at Hogwarts, even if he was a bit of a loner. I know that he was very good in Potions and Charms." His brow furrowed. "If I remember correctly, he traveled to Russia after he graduated."

Weisel's eyebrows popped up. "Really? What was he doing there?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I can't say." He cocked his head. "But I do know one of the Soviet representatives from the International Confederation of Wizards. He may be able to help."

"Do you think that a Soviet wizard official will help us, considering?" Weisel asked with a noticeable tone of skepticism.

Dumbledore creased a knowing smile. "I've known this official before there even was a Soviet Union. Trust me, he will help us."

February 21, 1970

Hyde Park, London

10:43 pm

"You wanted to see me?"

Titus emerged from under the shadows of the ancient elms and oaks of Hyde Park. He was dressed in a crisp, new Muggle pinstripe suit. He blended in perfectly. "Yes, Tom," he murmured to his companion.

From the outset, no one would guess that the slim, pale man standing before Titus was the most powerful and dangerous wizard in the world. Wearing a dark suit that matched his dark hair and eyes, he looked more like a middle-aged bureaucrat than a mad genius. The only giveaway was the inhuman gleam in his eye. "This had better be important, Titus," Voldemort said, taking a sweeping glance at the park around them. "I don't like being this exposed."

"They wouldn't think to look for us here," Titus replied. "Come," he began, walking down one of the paths, "let's talk."

"What about?"

"I need to ask you about Delmonte."

Voldemort smirked. "I knew he would come up."

Titus pursed his lips. "I need to know if you sanctioned his attack on Diagon Alley."

Voldemort did not reply for a long time. "I did, yes."

Titus stopped abruptly and turned to his Lord. "Why? Why did you let him go over my head like that?"

Voldemort looked straight into Titus's eyes, which made the other man uneasy. "I saw the benefits in it. We needed something like what he did, so to let the world know about us, at least to some degree."

"Cosmo is an animal," Titus hissed. "Letting him act like this will only expose us in the end."

"But I have him under control," Voldemort retorted. "That explosion in Diagon Alley was as much my idea as his. That's the difference between Cosmo and you."

"What do you mean?" Titus asked with a hint of suspicion.

"Unlike Cosmo, and unlike the rest of them, I trust you, Titus," Voldemort replied smoothly. "I give you free reign to do what you see fit, and you do your job very well."

"So are my jobs menial now?" Titus snarled. "Sending me off into god-forsaken Russia to set up accommodations for you?"

"No!" Voldemort snapped. "If it weren't for you, we'd all be dead or in Azkaban by now! Unlike the rest of these slugs, you think things through; you make sure that we always have a way to get out if we get in trouble. I need you, Titus."

Titus looked at the ground. "I just don't like being left out of the loop."

"I had to leave you out of this one, for your own good." Voldemort glanced at his watch.

"I need to go, Titus. Don't let this come between us."

"I'll try," Titus muttered, just as Voldemort Disapparated with a "pop".