Menage a Quatre

    Antoine fell, like he always did, in a clump of chairs near the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron. Typical, he thought, the patrons haven't even noticed the ass I just made of myself. He despised the Cauldron, it was always dark and dank and dusty. No wonder why Muggles didn't come in here, they probably couldn't stand the smell. He made his way over to a waving Krystoff, where sat a red haired man, who he supposed was Charlie Weasley, and the rest of the Quatre were.

    "There he is!" Krystoff grinned, sipping his butterbeer with a grin that had the look of, 'I'm going to annoy the piss out of you and there's nothing you can do about it.' Krystoff was so good at it, he did it twice a day and three times a day on Sundays. "Sorry for his late arrival, Charlie, Twine's never been good at Apparating, when he took the test he only projected a finger during it--ACK!" Krystoff dropped his butterbeer, spilling it all over the table, rubbing his hand.

    "Sorry about that, I randomly tend to shoot Stinging Hexes when he shoots his mouth off about embassaring things," Antoine said to the laughter of Thaddeus and Veridian. "Did I miss anything vital? Please, I beg you, in the name of my grandfather, don't make me catch another Chinese Fireball so your ministry can hold games to amuse small wizards..."

    "No, nothing like that," Charlie Weasley said. Despite the rather raucous display of profanity and simple hexes, he seemed rather serious. "Acutally, I asked you to come because Dumbledore asked me to ask you."

    The Quatre's collective eyebrows raised. Veridian was the first to speak. "Excuse me," she said softly, "but what would Hogwarts head master and perhaps the most admired and feared wizard of our time want with a group of monster hunters? As you know, we hunt and find, and if need be, capture or kill creatures that cause problems."

    "He Who Must Not Be Named is Back. Dumbledore thinks, and the Order agrees with him, that the Death Eaters might try to control and unleash dangerous creatures on the pouplace," Charlie said, looking nervously about the room.

    Thaddeus shakes his head. "You miss the point. The Quatre exists to take care of magical creatures that exist in the wild, and hopefully return them to their habitat. A rampaging dragon or troll is one thing. A goblin army, another. They tend to be cleverer, there tend to be more of them, and they know wizard tricks. Also, a wild creature is one thing. A bewitched one, serving a wizard, quite another. There is a different set of tactics involved."

    "Even if we had the resources to preempt the problem, which we don't," intoned Krystoff, "it's apples and oranges, you see. And we don't have the resources. Among other things, we charge for our services. We must pay for equipment, we must eat, and I've got a set of Chocolate Frog cards I need to complete."

    "I see," said Charlie with the tone of voice of someone who doesn't see at all. He handed Krystoff a slip of paper. "I'm sure Dumbledore will still want to talk to you. I will see you in an hour. Commit it to memory." He got up, and nervously looking around, pushed his way through the crowd and walked out the door. Krystoff proceeded to show the slip of paper to the others, who each in turn tried to commit to memory.

    "And they say we French are snobs!" muttered Antoine in a half laugh. "If that wasn't an order, I don't what is."

    "He trusts us, though," Veridian said quietly. "That's Dumbledore's handwriting, and unless I miss my guess, and I'll resign my commission of being the Charms and Herbology expert of this group if I do, he's Secret Keeper of a Fidelius Charm."

    "Besides his reputation and the fact he was your headmaster, Veridian, what do we know about him?" Antoine asked.

    "Not much," rumbled Thaddeus. "But it's not what Charlie Weasley said that interests me. It's what he didn't say. No mention of dementors, no mention of any other beasts that might be loose now. Always thought that was stupid, keeping track of your enemies's allies by using creatures of fear and sorrow, things that your enemy dabbles in, to guard them."

    Krystoff idly lit the note on fire with a Flame Charm. "Well, look at it this way. We get to meet the wizard of the age! Isn't it grand?"

    "Yes, grand, Krystoff," muttered Antoine sarcastically, "much like a niffler in the underpants."

    Krystoff laughed, but it was a nervous laugh, not a reassured one.