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School Days

Note Part 02 of Veteran Odd Ideas # 184

Dumbledore's jaw tightened when he saw a familiar face among Beauxbatons' faculty. What in the bloody hell did his counterpart think she was doing having that monster around children.

"Madame Maxime," the old man said with a politicians smile on his face. "Allow me to be the first to welcome you to our fair school." He leaned in closer. "What were you thinking bringing that man here?"

"It is simple, Dumbydore," the foreign Headmistress said with a smile. "This tournament is known for its dangerousness. As an educator, I am obligated to get my champion the best tutor I can."

"The fact that he'll scare the hell out of Igor is just a fortunate bonus," Dumbledore said dryly.

"Exactly. Having him around will definitely keep our Bulgarian counterpart's mind focused on things other than helping his champion. You should thank me for that, Dumbydore."

"What will it take to have you get rid of him?" Dumbledore asked.

"More than you have to offer," Maxime replied. "The parents of several of my more prominent students insisted he accompany us. They have heard rumors that your country is not quite as safe as you would have us believe."

IIIIIIIIII

Harry frowned, trying to place one of the french teachers.

"Third teacher on the left look familiar to either of you?"

"First year," Hermione replied. "The troll."

"Wonder what he's doing here."

"I know him," Ron said suddenly. "He was one of my da's old partners in the war, da says he saved his life later."

"What happened?"

"Da doesn't like to talk much about what he did in the war," Ron said quickly. "Don't know much, but they got ambushed by seven of you-know-who's minions when they were out on patrol. Da says he was about to get hit by a killing curse when Charlie Riever banished something in front of it. Day says that if he'd been with anyone else, they'd have been finished and that the rest of the story is not fit for decent company. Mum says she and da decided to name Charlie, my brother, after him as thanks even though he'd already been born."

"They changed his name?"

"Nah, he was already named Charlie but he wasn't named after anyone. That's what they changed."

"Forgot to tell us about him after you found out?" Hermione guessed.

"Da told me about him that summer, was weeks before I saw either of you after he did."

"Wonder if the library has anything on him," Harry mused.

"Any of the wartime newspapers would if half my da's stories are true," Ron replied.

IIIIIIIIII

A pleased smile lit Charles' face as he sat down on the barstool. How many years had it been since he'd visited the Broomsticks?

"What can I-" the barmaid's eyes bulged. "Charlie Reiver!"

"How you doing, Rosy?"

"I heard you were dead."

"Not hardly," Charles laughed. "Close a couple dozen times, but no one's managed it yet."

She reached over the counter to pull him into a hug. "Of all the bars in all the world."

"I had to walk into yours," he finished. "Hadn't heard you bought the place."

"Old Shelby was looking to retire and I had the money so I went for it. Where have you been all these years?"

"Everywhere," he replied. "Local authorities don't like it when I stay in one place too long."

"Still doing?"

"Similar to what I did during the war," he agreed. "Pays well and it's all I've ever been good at."

"Marks was hoping to make you a chaser when Silvia left when-" she pursed her lips. "Shame, you could have played the league."

"Only reason Marks was trying to scout me is that they didn't have anyone better, I wouldn't have even made second string in a good year."

"You're supposed to agree that it was a great loss to the sport that you wasted yourself on being an Auror," Rosmerta laughed. "Haven't you ever heard someone boasting about their glory days?"

"All the time in interrogation rooms," Charles shot back.

"Had to ruin it, didn't you? Just like the old days," Rosmerta shook her head with mock sadness. "When are you going to settle down? I've got a cousin that-"

"Wants nothing to do with me if she's got a lick of sense," Charles interrupted. "My life isn't fit to be shared."

"You could do something else."

"Find a way to get the authorities to leave me alone, find a job that'll hire me that pays what I make now, and find a way for what's left of the other side to leave me alone and I'll consider it."

"Shame. You saved her life and she's had a bit of a crush since. She'll be hoping for a chance to properly thank you after she finds out you're back in the country."

"When?"

"Last couple weeks. You were on stakeout, they raided her house and found you waiting. She'll be crushed to hear that you didn't remember her."

Charles' eyebrows knit together. "Blue house? Parents, two sons, and a daughter?"

"Sounds like them."

"She can't have been more than five years old."

"She grew up," Rosmerta said dryly. "Think about it."

"I told you my conditions," Charles replied.

"Fine," Rosmerta sighed. "What'll you have?"

"Whatever you drink yourself, Rosy, you're the professional here so I place myself in your able hands."

IIIIIIIIII

Charles noted the boy the second he came through the door. Red hair, muscles built with hard work, and eyes that were looking for something. The boy tried to hide it, but it was obvious when he found what he was looking for and equally obvious who it was.

The redheaded stranger tried to look casual as he made his way across the room and chose the barstool next to him. Charlie readied his wand as he waited to see what the boy wanted.

"Porter," the boy ordered. He leaned back in his chair as he took his first sip. "I need your help," the redhead whispered.

"Already have a job."

"Not that," the boy said, looking around. "I need some advice."

"Sure," Charles agreed. "Who are you?"

The boy grinned. "Your namesake."

"What?" Charles took the time to study the boy. "You're Arthur's kid alright. Heard you were in Romania?"

"I'm here for the tournament," the Weasley explained. "Couple years ago, Lucius Malfoy nearly succeeded in killing my sister."

"I'm not a paid assassin, I've got three Aurors watching me right now, and I already have a job," Charles said mildly.

"I'm not asking for anything more than a bit of advice," the Weasley said quickly. "Hypothetically, is there a way to top someone and make it look natural?"

"Depends," Charles said, signaling for another drink. "Do you have a way to get through the wards undetected?"

"Yes."

"Alright," Charlie agreed. "In that case, talk to your father about what investigators look for when they're checking a crime scene, doesn't matter if they can't prove the death was suspicious if they can prove you were somewhere you shouldn't have been."

"Alright, what else?"

"Get some insulin from a pharmacy. Wizards don't use it and magical forensics doesn't know how to detect an insulin overdose." Charles took a sip of his drink. "Bunch of other ways, but that's likely the easiest one for you. Hypothetically anyway."

"Thanks, Uncle Charles."

"Stay in your seat," Charles ordered. "Those three Aurors watching me are going to want to know why you came to meet with me. Easy answer is that I'm your namesake and you were curious, most Aurors are lazy so they won't dig too deep. You come, you talk to me for five minutes and you leave, they might remember it and might wonder what our business was."

"Oh."

"I'll tell you some stories about your father, you'll tell me a couple about dragon handling, and you'll ask your mother about some of the more embarrassing stories I tell you about your father later. IT'll give them an easy answer if the Aurors even bother to look into what you were doing here."

"Understood, thanks."

"And have someone you trust get rid of the memory of what you are hypothetically going to do right after you're hypothetically done. Get really clean ahead of time, use newly transfigured clothing, get really clean after and destroy the clothing. Don't use magical means to get to wherever you are hypothetically going."

"Okay, anything else?"

"Next time don't give anyone any hypothetical names, you never should have told me who or why."

"I trust you."

"Don't trust anyone, you'll live longer."

"Thanks." The man took a sip. "It true you once killed a man by jamming a hot poker up his backside?"

IIIIIIIIII

Charles' features showed none of his annoyance when the Headmaster of Hogwarts chose to join his meal. No point in it, not like the old bastard would leave him alone even if he convinced him to leave.

"I trust you'll be going, Mr. Reiver, now that you've completed your reason for returning to Britain?"

"Not sure what you're talking about," Charles stated calmly. "Please enlighten me."

"Lucius Malfoy was found dead in his home two hours ago," Dumbledore stated calmly. "Natural causes by all appearances."

"Huh?" Charles scratched his chin. "Imagine that, natural causes. Never would have expected it with him."

"No," Dumbledore agreed. "One wouldn't."

"That why Amelia hasn't sent someone to talk to me?" Charles asked with a grin. "Or do you think it's because she hated the bastard nearly as much as I did?"

"I wouldn't care to guess," Dumbledore said blandly. "As I said before, now that your business has been completed I assume you will be leaving soon Mr. Reiver, before your welcome has been worn out."

"My business is as a tutor to the French champion and I will not be leaving until the tournament has ended." Charlie snorted. "My business does not and has not had anything to do with the fate of Lucius Malfoy, may he rot in hell. Though, now that you've told me about him, I do believe I'll have to delay my departure by an hour or so to urinate on his grave."

"I do not want you in my school, Mr. Reiver," Dumbledore said firmly, dropping any pretenses. "You are a danger to my students, you are a danger to my staff, and I want you gone."

"Pity you can't enforce that desire till after the tournament then, isn't it? As it is, you're dangerously close to being done in for cheating." Charles smiled. "I'm going to do something for you, something I don't do for many people, I'm going to pull back the curtain and give you a glimpse of the world I live in. Since the war, I've killed . . . oh . . . a fair few ex-death eaters, but not nearly the number that I've been credited with. Let's imagine you have someone you dislike so much that you want them dead, but, you also don't want to go to prison. Let's say that there's also a vampire that's been snacking on the local townspeople or a clan of trolls that's been violating the livestock? So what do you do? You hire or contrive to have hired a professional, someone with a reputation for dealing with the sort of people you have a problem with. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

"I do not," Dumbledore admitted.

"The professional comes in and the local authorities, being well aware of his reputation, keep a very close eye on him. Your enemy dies? They just assume the tricky bastard gave them the slip long enough to do the deed. Another possibility is that your enemy comes to the conclusion that the professional is there for them. The stupid ones decide to handle things themselves, maybe with a bit of help from the old days giving the professional the chance to aggressively defend himself in front of a number of impeccable witnesses. Problem solved either way."

"You're not an assassin, you're a decoy," Dumbledore said in shock.

"Allows me to charge much more than most dark creature hunters," Charlie agreed. "I haven't killed anyone for coin since I left the Ministry. That's not to say I'm opposed to a bit of public service if a death eater is stupid enough to cross my path, most of them are rather easy to goad into giving me an excuse, but whatever else I may be I am not a hired gun." Charlie leaned back. "Another possible reason Amelia didn't send anyone to talk to me is that she's had three Aurors on me all day."

"I apologize, Mr. Reiver, it seems I misjudged you."

"I know my reputation," Charles laughed. "I know it and I've made no effort to change it."

"There is likely nothing you could have done by the time the war ended," Dumbledore conceded.

"Not to mention all the gold that would have slipped away if I somehow managed to," Charlie finished. "Any other questions or concerns?"

"You mentioned something the last time we spoke, Mr. Reiver, you stated that I gave you detention for putting students in the hospital wing."

"What about it?"

"You also stated that they had insulted your dead family and cast the first spells," Dumbledore continued. "Was that true?"

"Does it matter?"

"Oddly enough, yes. I must confess that I badly misjudged you, Mr. Reiver, I had thought you to be a liar and an unrepentant murderer."

"I'll cop to the second, but not the first."

"It was a war, Mr. Reiver, I hardly think that being forced to take a life in the heat of combat makes you a murderer."

"I agree."

Dumbledore paused to consider what the other man had said before dismissing it as unimportant at present. "As I was saying, I believed you to be a liar. I believed this because one of my professors at the time vouched for the boys you fought. Since, I have become less and less sure of that professor's character while being confronted with evidence on yours."

"I still don't see why it matters at this point," Charles stated calmly. "You've called me a monster, I am. You've called me an unrepentant murderer, I am. What difference does it make that I'm not a liar?"

"The difference, Mr. Reiver, is that a small portion of my mind gave consideration to bringing the former professor back into a teaching role at some point in the future. Note, I said had."

"Good for the kids, I suppose," Charles admitted. "Good luck on finding a replacement."

"Impossible, I'm afraid, which drastically reduces the chances of one of my current professors being able to change subjects." Severus would be so disappointed to lose all hope of teaching defense. "On the other hand, it also presents me with a bit of an opportunity."

"Oh?"

"Yes. For the past several years I've had trouble finding a defense instructor," Dumbledore laughed. "It's gotten so hard to keep one for even a year that the students have started a rumor that the position is cursed."

"Why not cycle through Aurors on light duty like you did when I was a student?" Charles asked.

"Peace time rather reduced our supply of disabled Aurors," Dumbledore answered. "So, how about it?"

"Disabling a few Auors for you? I don't think Amelia would like that very much."

"I dare say she wouldn't," Dumbledore agreed. "Suppose I should go with my second idea."

"Which was?"

"Asking you to consider returning to teach defense next year?"

AN: The forum move has been completed. Go to caerazkaban . Groups . Io / g / main or email main+subscribe CaerAzkaban . Groups . Io to join.

Typos by Eric Oppen

Idea by A Kas

Omake: Under Siege

"Oh fuck!" Addicus Hart, Slytherin's sixth year prefect cursed, drawing every eye in the car to him for the unprecedented use of profanity. "The Defense Professor this year is Charlie Fucking Reiver!"

"Oh fuck!" Adora Bell, his female counterpart cursed.

"Who's Charlie Fucking Reiver?" Draco asked.

"Our parents weren't able to do anything about it?" Adora asked, ignoring the younger boy.

"Not a fucking thing," Addicus replied.

"We're fucked," Adora whispered. "Completely fucked."

"Who's Charlie Fucking Reiver?" Draco repeated.

"During the war, he was the guy the Ministry sent if they didn't want to bother with a trial," Addicus stated, more to shut the little bastard up than to answer the question. "You heard he was after you and you ran, no matter who you were you ran."

"Not that it made much difference," Adora snorted. "Buy you a few years maybe, but no one escapes that monster."

"Best behavior this year," Addicus ordered. "No funny business with quidditch games, no picking on younger years from other houses, no messing about with potions, nothing. Everyone is a model student and no one does anything that will draw his attention to our house."