Second Rotation

Chapter 20

Second Rotation

Moody forced his eyes to remain open, fixed on his opponent. His head was pounding and his throat felt scratchy, yet he refused to relent as his fingers grasped tightly around his weapon of choice. He regarded the determination in his opponent's bloodshot eyes and bowed. The enemy across from him merely licked his lips in anticipation of the duel.

"GO!"

Moody tossed his head back to receive the liquid in the shot glass. The Firewhisky burned as it glided down his throat. They slammed their empty glasses down on the table at the same time. The wizard sitting across from Moody smiled stoically and seemed unfazed. Moody's vision blurred, and he struggled to remain upright. He shook his head, and the world came back into focus on that same frozen smile that remained etched on the now unconscious wizard's face, the drool dripping off his bottom lip to form a puddle on his chest.

The crowd that had gathered around to witness the contest was in an uproar. Half of the attendants threw their money on the table and walked away in disgust while the other half eagerly divvied their winnings.

After taking his cut, Moody rose from his seat and grasped the back of his chair for support until he regained his balance. The room seesawed as he meandered toward the bar. The Firewhisky swirling in his blood made it easy to ignore the band's loud music to which the go-go girls danced seductively in their cages.

Moody sat on the nearest stool and hailed the bartender for a club soda. He gulped it down quickly to soothe his grumbling stomach and ordered another. When he looked up, he noticed a familiar reflection in the mirror behind the bartender and glanced to the far end to see Reuben nursing a glass of gin and tonic. Moody was the only one in the room who noticed when Reuben slyly tugged his earlobe. Moody acknowledged the signal and took the bowler hat off his head to set it next to his drink. He reached into his vest pocket and, when no one was looking, placed a slug into his ear. The feeling of the gastropod sliding down to his eardrum was unnerving and snapped him back to sobriety.

Reuben's voice boomed in his head. Can you hear me, Alastor?

"Yeah," Moody whispered. He placed the glass to his lips to conceal their movement. "How long have you been sitting there?"

Right around the time you started lapping rum shots out of the barmaid's navel. You do realize that we're on the clock?

"Of course. It's called 'staying in character'."

Well, stay sharp. Fletcher and his goons are setting up in the back. Two of his men are hiding in the northeast corner of the alley behind a Confundus Charm. He's on his way inside, so be ready.

"Just make sure you hold off till you get my signal, Reuben. If we bugger this up, the maestro will tear us each a new bunghole for sure..."

"Alastor, is that you?"

The familiar voice hastened Moody to end his private conversation. He put the club soda down and replaced the bowler atop his head. He turned to the girl behind him...a short, stout witch with flyaway hair. She wore a green body suit knit together with vines and various leaves. "Holly, it's good to see you again..." he couldn't help but look down to her bosom, packed into a brassiere two sizes too small for her robust frame, "...all three of you."

Holly replied by slapping Moody across his face. "You've got a lot of nerve coming in here, Alastor!"

A friend of yours, Alastor? Reuben's voice stung like another slap.

"Perhaps," Moody replied, rubbing his jaw...though it was unclear to whom the reply was intended. "Was it something I said?"

Fuming, Holly placed her hands on her hips. "You know bloody well what you told everyone about me! I have a reputation to uphold."

"Reputation?" Moody leered as he eyed her. "But aren't you a whor..."

Another slap from Holly served as her rejoinder.

Alastor, she's going to blow your cover! Get rid of her!

"I am a performer, you git! And I told you never to come back here!"

"No, you didn't, you silly cow. You said if you ever saw me again that you'd cut off my..."

Reuben barely had enough time to step in between them before the discussion escalated. He pushed Moody back against the bar, saying, "You, sir, are a cad to speak to a lady in such a manner!"

At this, Holly regained her composure. She tore off one of the large leaves sewn into her dress and proceeded to fan herself with it briskly. "Finally, a gentleman!"

Moody played up to Reuben's subterfuge. "What's it to you, friend?"

"I think you should apologize to her," Reuben said. He pointed with his eyes to the back exit.

"Do you now?" Moody looked to see his contact, Fletcher, enter the bar. The thin, bow-legged wizard, dressed in an expensive silk robe, quickly spotted Moody at the center of the commotion. The two burly wizards that escorted Fletcher pushed everyone aside in order to plow a path through the crowded room. Holly's outburst had grown from a simple nuisance into a real threat to the undercover operation. As a result, Moody placed his hands on his chest and acquiesced. "Right. Holly, please accept my sincerest apologies. I had no right to say that you were so loose that you could make a house-elf disappear without the benefit of magic." He chuckled, recalling the comment, earning himself another glare from Reuben. "Er...let me buy you two a drink and call it bygones, eh?"

With Holly placated, Moody left Reuben to her eager attentions just as Fletcher approached. The well-dressed Fletcher came out from behind his bodyguards and eyed Moody suspiciously. "You certainly 'ave a way with the ladies, Milfred?"

Moody acknowledged Fletcher by taking out his pocket watch in feigned indignation. "Just like you have a way of being late, Fletcher?"

"I told you it takes time to put together the kind of order you placed. Are we going to do business or not?"

Moody put his watch away and smiled in relief. "You're lucky my boss is a patient man."

Moody followed Fletcher through the exit in the back of the bar leading to the alley outside. When the doors closed behind him, his ears continued to ring until they became accustomed to the relative silence. He crossed the threshold of Fletcher's Stealth Charm to find two more goons guarding a wooden chest that sat upon a dingy crate. At Fletcher's command, the chest opened to reveal a pile of wands arranged neatly therein. He reached inside, picked one out of the pile and presented it to Moody, saying, "As I promised, fifty wands...all unregistered and untraceable...good for fifteen spells, or thereabouts, before burning out."

"I see." Moody took the proffered wand and rolled it between his fingers. The wood felt grainy to the touch, a sign of inferior craftsmanship. "I wonder if that wizard I read about in the Daily Prophet last week was aware of the contraindications?"

Fletcher snatched the wand and placed it back inside the case. "It ain't my fault if a bloke don't follow the instructions. Fact is, these're the best wands yer gonna get outside of a wand-master."

"Yes, but your price is steep for fifteen shots apiece especially without an assurance of quality."

"If you want a guarantee, go to Ollivander or one of his competitors," Fletcher snapped. When Moody refused to back down, however, he arched an eyebrow, smiled and reached into his pocket to pull out a thin leather bag. "You drive a hard bargain, friend. I was gonna save these for another buyer, but you look like a discerning sort. 'Ows about I throw these in ta sweeten the deal?"

Moody reached into the bag and pulled out the two wands within. The wood on these specimens was smooth and polished. He suspended one in his outstretched palm. The speed with which it began to spin was conclusive. "These are genuine."

"Yes, and gently used," Fletcher said with pride. "So, do we 'ave a deal now?"

"That we do." Moody smiled and tipped his hat ostentatiously.

Fletcher waited patiently as Moody placed the wands with the others and took possession of the crate. "Well?"

"Pardon?" Moody tipped his hat again.

"Where's my money? You didn't think this was going to be free, did ya?"

"Of course not," Moody said, tipping his hat yet again.

Fletcher motioned to the guards standing behind him. "What's wrong with your neck?" They crowded around Moody.

"Nothing..."

Before Moody could tip his hat once more, Fletcher grabbed Moody by the shoulder and punched him in the stomach, causing him to slump to his knees. "Boys, suddenly I don't think Milfred 'ere is on the up-and-up."

Moody remained hunched. He placed the chest down next to his fallen hat and cradled his rumbling stomach. "Is that the way we're gonna play this, Fletcher?"

Fletcher hiked up his robes so as not to soil them on the dirty cobblestones as he knelt to face Moody. "I'm afraid so, mate. A sum was promised."

"Right." Two goons grabbed each of Moody's arms and hoisted him to his feet. His stomach rumbled louder. "Just... give me a moment... please?"

Fletcher shook his head and waved his finger in Moody's face. "Light 'im up, boys."

Moody couldn't hold back the wave of nausea any longer. With a heave, Fletcher's gaudy suit was soiled with bile-flavored Firewhisky.

Fletcher covered his nose with his hand in disgust. "Kill 'im."

The order was delayed by the sounds of squeaking in the darkness which drew everyone's attention to the alley's entrance. Five glowing, silver streaks shot out of nowhere to attack Fletcher and his goons. The feral rodents nipped and clawed mercilessly until the wizards were disarmed.

Reuben threw off his invisibility cloak and pointed his wand. Ropes appeared out of thin air and bound Fletcher's gang where they stood. He snapped his fingers, and the chipmunk Patronuses vanished back into the vapor. When the area was secured, Reuben approached to help Moody up, grimacing as Moody wiped the gunk off his chin. "You alright, brother?"

Moody shrugged off his partner's arm and spat out the remnants that coated his tongue. "What the devil took you so long?"

"Are you daft? I pounced as soon as you gave me the signal."

"No, you didn't!"

"Of course I did. You said not to make a move until you gave the signal. I'm just amazed you were able to puke on demand like that. It was a brilliant distraction."

"What are you talking about?" Moody bent down to recover the bowler, the top of which rested inverted in the chunky puddle of his stomach contents. "That wasn't the signal!"

"Er... now I am confused. What was the signal, then?"

After putting the bowler on, Moody bowed his head in answer. "That."

"What?"

"I very clearly tipped my hat."

Reuben stared blankly for a few seconds. "What kind of god-awful signal is that?"

"It's something subtle that the baddies wouldn't pick up on."

"You got the subtle part right, seeing as how I didn't pick up on it either."

"For fuck's sake! How many times have you ever seen me tip me hat?"

"About the same number of times I've ever seen you honking all over someone," Reuben said with a smirk. "But I guess it's deceiving, the amount of alcohol a barmaid's navel can hold." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "And isn't that Jeff's hat?"

"Right." Moody clenched his jaw as he removed the vomit-caked bowler on his head to assess the damage. He ignored Reuben's looks of disgust and took out his wand. "I'm sure this'll come right out."

Reuben looked on as Moody tried in vain to Scourgify the hat. "Had the corn chowder for lunch, did you? How was it?"

"Pretty good, actually. You should try it." Moody shook off the excess water and placed the bowler back on his head."

After Moody caught his breath, the two Aurors stood over the prostrate Fletcher, who struggled in vain against Reuben's binding curse. When Reuben waved his hand, the rope that served as Fletcher's gag disappeared, enabling him to speak. "Don't you wand-bobbies have anything better to do other than shakin' down a bloke trying ta make an 'onest galleon?"

"Honest?" Reuben kicked over the wooden box, scattering the wands across the floor of the alley. "Is that what you call the illegal commerce of unregistered wands?"

Fletcher shrugged. "What can I say? There's a market, and I got kids ta feed."

"It makes me shudder, the thought of you procreating, Fletcher." Moody squatted in front of Fletcher, looking him in the eye. "Now let's talk about your supplier."

"You'll never get me ta talk, Milfred...if that's your real name."

"It's Moody. And we don't want you, Fletcher. You're just the middleman."

Reuben pointed his wand threateningly. "Make things easy on yourself; tell us who the Guv'nor is."

Fletcher was not intimidated. "Stupid wand-bobbies. Nobody rats on the Guv'nor and lives."

Moody waved Reuben off. "Don't bother. Maybe some time in Azkaban will give him cause to reconsider."

"Azkaban?" Fletcher guffawed. "You're gonna 'ave ta do better'n that. Azkaban's a country club. I'll be out in a week."

"Have it your way, Fletcher." Moody stood up and joined Reuben. "The second patrol should be around any minute to take you in."

"Wait." Fletcher called out before they left. "Maybe we can work sum'n out?" When he got their attention, he continued, "You wand-bobbies are lookin' for those two missin' students, right?"

"The Weasley brothers?" Reuben questioned.

"Yeah, that's them."

Moody folded his arms and started to stroke his chin. After a confirming nod from Reuben, he said to Fletcher, "Keep talking."

"It has to do with those two proper wands I was going to sell you: I've been gettin 'em pretty regular from this bloke who moonlights as hired muscle down by the docks. I don't normally ask where a seller gets his product, but after a few 'questionable' transactions, I noticed this... pattern."

At Fletcher's hesitation, Moody coaxed, "C'mon, what pattern?"

Fletcher shrank under the Aurors' glares and finally answered, "That whenever a disappearance is reported in the Prophet, he happens to have a wand for sale."

"And you agreed to be his fence?" Reuben scoffed. "You intestinal parasite!"

Fletcher shrugged. "I got kids to feed."

"You got a name?" Moody questioned.

"That depends." Noticing an opportunity, Fletcher's sneer returned. "Isn't there some kind of reward?"

Moody was out of patience. He pointed his wand and levitated Fletcher upside down, positioning him headfirst over the puddle. "NAME!"

Fletcher wisely opted not to press his luck. "Stoker. You can check his rap sheet." He was relieved when Moody righted him, only to be subsequently bound on the adjacent wall. "Hey! I thought we had a deal!"

"Relax, Fletcher. If your tip pans out, we'll be back to peel you off." Moody put his wand away and returned Fletcher's glare with a mocking sneer of his own as he walked off. "Until then, stick around."

Reuben accompanied Moody to the alley's entrance. He waited until they were out of earshot to say, "Do you believe him?"

"Fletcher is a lot of things, but imaginative isn't one of them." Moody snapped his fingers. After a few seconds, two brooms appeared out of the sky, one of which alighted to his waiting hand.

"You realize, of course, that we should go back to headquarters and notify the maestro of these developments?"

"Are you daft? As soon as he finds out the source of the tip, he'll throw us out of his office." Moody sat on his broom and, after a wobbly start, hovered next to his partner. "Besides, I'm in no condition to do paperwork at the moment."

By this time, Reuben's broom had descended upon him, waiting for its master. "You do remember what happened the last time we broke protocol?"

"Do you want to be on second rotation forever, mate?" Moody began to rise higher into the air. "Besides, if what Fletcher's saying is true, the clock is ticking."

Reuben sighed and mounted his broom. "Sure... one can't have too many bungholes, I suppose," he muttered to himself before following Moody into the night sky.