Manhattan

the Upper East Side

Dark Hunter Intelligence Agency

Severus Snape, former Headmaster of Hogwarts and current Director in Chief of the Dark Hunter Intelligence Agency (DHIA), shuffled through the mountain of reports on his desk with a barely concealed sigh. It was the beginning of November and already the spymaster had twenty or thirty new cases on his desk awaiting his perusal. He frowned at the paperwork, though the mountain of parchment wasn’t anything new, he’d dealt with more when he was a professor at Hogwarts. The only difference was now he didn’t have to deal with irritating students, but hardened criminals and lawbreakers. It was Severus’ job to assign his Dark Hunters to track down the criminals, mostly dark witches and wizards, before they hurt or killed again.

Most of the agents that worked under him were experienced in finding and apprehending criminals, they had been trained at one of the finest Hunter Academies in the US, and he really only had to pick teams to track down the worst of the offenders on his desk. Except lately there seemed to be a rash of criminal activity in the tri-state area and his force of intelligence agents was being spread very thin.

A good agent was a rare breed, it took a special kind of person to be able to work undercover, gathering much-needed information on notorious necromancers while maintaining the fiction that he or she was one of them. A good agent was like a chameleon, able to blend into the background, unnoticed yet noticing everything. They were Hunters that could work independently and were often undercover for weeks and months at a time, relying solely on their wits, training, and magic to protect them.

Severus himself had once been a top agent, four years ago in Britain, working to bring down Voldemort himself. Back then he’d been a member of the secret Order of the Phoenix, their master spy for over fifteen years until his cover had been blown one night and he’d been tortured nearly to death. Then he’d revealed to the rest of the wizarding world his true allegiance as a wizard of the light and helped to defend the school against Voldemort’s army. After Voldemort had been defeated, he’d been selected by the school’s former Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore to succeed him, and Snape had accepted reluctantly, humoring his old friend, who was dying. For two years he’d served as headmaster before resigning and coming to work in America as the new Director of the DHI.

He was now an American citizen, living in New Jersey but working in Manhattan for the most part. Recently, his adopted daughter Trish had gotten married to a Hunter named Flick Bowen and moved out, leaving him alone in his house for the first time in over six years. His other daughter, Arista, had been married for a year already, to her childhood sweetheart, Drake Lockwood. Both Flick and Drake worked under Severus as Dark Hunters, something that might have caused friction in another family, but did not in his, mostly because Snape was careful to keep his work and his personal life separate. Then too, both of his son-in-laws were very good at their jobs and didn’t cause him any problems.

He had rather enjoyed the solitude, just him and his magehound Scout, though it didn’t last too long. For two months later he found himself playing the role of mentor and guardian to a troubled wizard child, a ten-year-old orphan boy who had called himself Wolf. The boy had been a member of a street gang called the Mystic Ravens, mostly thieves and con artists who roamed the Lower East Side, canvassing the stores and people for likely looking marks.

That was how Severus had met him, because the little sneak had tried to pick his pocket, not realizing Snape was warded against theft with magic. The kid had set off his ward, but not only that but he’d inadvertently tried to use his latent magical abilities to counter it. Now Snape had sworn Magician’s Oath when he’d become Director, the same as any other American Wizard. The Oath was simple, it stated that you would use your magic for good, to defend and protect the US and innocents as needed and also mentor any underage wizard without a teacher. The boy clearly had no magical tutor, he didn’t even have an adult to care for him.

Severus had considered allowing AMOS (American Magical Orphan Services) to take the child, but something in the desperate child’s eyes touched him, and in the end he’d made the kid his official apprentice and ward. He’d also given the youngster a real name, for he refused to call the child “Wolf”. Instead he named him Gavin, which meant hawk in Welsh, and allowed the boy to use Snape as his surname. He figured that by doing so he could make the child feel as if he belonged to a family, and wasn’t just a nameless orphan.

Little did he realize that Gavin was more of a handful than ten Harry Potters.

The boy had grown up with little or no adult supervision, he’d run away from the first orphanage he’d been placed in at the tender age of eight, and been on the streets ever since. While in the orphanage, he’d been abused for unexplained “odd” things happening around him. He’d made the mistake of telling the orphanage manager one day that the strange things were because of magic and gotten beaten severely for telling lies and behaving like a little demon. The orphanage director was one of those rabid Christian fanatics, and any mention of magic was considered blasphemous and subject to an immediate thrashing as penance. Gavin had been the recipient of so many of them that he’d run away rather than endure any more, and he’d also subconsciously suppressed his magic.

But now he was nearing the age of eleven, and his subconscious was slowly losing the battle and his magic was emerging in fits and starts, powerful and uncontrolled. Which meant he needed a teacher who could deal with such a powerful young magician, one who would not be afraid of the boy’s talents and be willing to set limits for him, yet at the same time provide the necessary empathy and understanding he craved. Enter Severus Snape.

The very last thing Snape had wanted was to raise another child right then, especially one like Gavin, yet he couldn’t refuse the mute plea for help in the child’s dark eyes. It echoed the way he had felt long ago, alone and friendless, labeled a useless freak by his Muggle father for nearly all of his childhood. Duty to his sworn oath had done the rest, and now Gavin was like his son.

A son that seemed destined to drive him insane sometimes.

The boy did not respond well to figures of authority, a legacy of his days running wild on the streets, and Snape was the head of one of the branches of law enforcement in the wizarding world. That alone made Gavin bristle rebelliously. Yet he also realized that Severus had rescued him from the hell of Juvenile Services and so he tried as much as he could to listen to the older wizard and obey him. Which wasn’t quite as much as Severus wanted, half the time.

The Director heaved a sigh, wondering if the child was behaving himself in school today. The past three months he’d been called to school five times because Gavin had been caught fighting other students and being disrespectful to certain teachers. The boy had never learned how to settle disputes with anything save his fists and swearing, and his control over his emotions was precarious. Severus had been prepared for the kid to get into trouble, just not this much trouble, and now he simply prayed he could get through a month without a call from the school principal. He’d explained to the staff at the elementary school about the child’s background, yet he had also requested they not allow him to get away with any bad behavior, since the kid needed to learn rules and consequences.

It was an uphill battle all the way.

There were times Snape despaired of ever civilizing the brat, especially when Gavin seemed determined to ignore every rule ever made for polite society and embarrass his guardian. Practically the entire staff of Hunters at the DHI knew of his charge’s willful escapades and they probably made bets every week on how long it would take for the kid to make Snape angry enough to toss him out on his ear. Many of them were surprised it had not happened yet, for Severus was not a particularly patient man.

Yet Snape found himself tapping unknown depths of patience with this student, God only knows how or why. The patience to endure the boy’s rebellious streak without losing it and strangling him, that is. Thus far it had been a very near thing.

Yet when Gavin wasn’t misbehaving he was an incredibly bright and curious child, willing to sit for hours and listen to Severus lecture about potion ingredients or ways to disguise yourself with magic and catch criminals. He soaked up details about magic and the wizarding world in general like a sponge, and once his magic emerged fully, he would be one of the strongest talents Snape had ever trained. That was another reason Snape put up with the boy’s attitude, because without strict guidance, Gavin might end up killing someone or himself with his magical abilities, and Severus was one of the few wizards with power enough to handle the kid if he lost control.

Although what concerned the Director most now was not his ward’s budding magical abilities but whether or not Gavin would pass fifth grade. Sometimes it seemed the kid spent more time in detention or suspended than in the classroom. It made Severus wonder what he’d done to deserve a mini James Potter, God help him! Somewhere, Snape was certain James was watching and laughing his head off at the way Gavin was driving Snape crazy.

Snape scanned the proposals on his desk once more, then took out a clean sheet of parchment and began writing down memos and assignments rapidly. Once he’d read through all the briefs on the suspects, he could begin detailing his agents to shadow the criminals and gather information on them. After that was done, they could arrest them and bring them to trial, or if they resisted arrest, kill them if necessary.

By the time he’d finished detailing agents to the various cases, it was past lunchtime, a fact which his stomach was reminding him in no uncertain terms. He stretched and stood up, after five hours, even his comfortable leather chair felt like a block of wood. And his left leg did too. He hissed and began to massage the stiffening muscles. His left leg had permanent nerve damage as an effect of Voldemort torturing him nearly to death over four years ago. He had a permanent limp and sometimes used a cane when it was acting up terribly. Still, he knew he was lucky he could still walk on it at all, or was alive, for that matter.

His daughter, Arista, was the one he had to thank for that little miracle. Voldemort had intended him to die that night for betraying him, and it had been through the grace of God and Arista’s healing talent and belief that nothing was impossible with magic that had saved him. He glanced out the windows, which faced the west side of his office, a huge panel of magically tinted glass, spelled so he could see out but no one else could see in, and also shatterproof. He could see the entire skyline of Manhattan, including the Empire State Building, the World Trade Center, and the Statue of Liberty.

The sight never failed to inspire him. In a strange way he felt more comfortable in his adopted country than he ever had in his own, perhaps because the attitudes towards half-bloods and Muggleborns were not so strict. Then too, there was none of his dark past to live down here. Here he was something of a, dare he say it, celebrity, for hunting down the dragonslayers and fighting Lucius Malfoy. And his new position as Director merely reinforced his image as a tough, dependable, combat master. In America there were no whispers of tainted blood, or suspicions of being a dark wizard. Here the name Snape was a name to respect.

Not that he craved fame or anything, but still it was nice to be recognized. He paced to the window, admiring the view for a few moments, then walked across the spacious office to the bookshelf where he kept many of his curse breaking texts and some potion books as well. This was by no means the full library, that he kept at home, but these books were the ones he seemed to reference the most while at work and he kept them here. Below the bookshelf was a long black leather sofa, for those nights when he worked late and wanted a comfortable place to read over reports. Next to that was a soft cherry end table. The carpet and the walls were done in a deep green shade, which complemented the black leather nicely.

On the walls hung several portraits, one of Albus Dumbledore, one of Amelia,his late wife, and one of Arista and Trish riding Fireflash, the great bronze dragon. Below the photos was a wooden sign that read: Nobody Gets In To See the Wizard. Not Nobody. Not No How. It was a quote from The Wizard of Oz, Arista’s favorite movie, and it was their private joke, since an appointment with the Director was very hard to get, and the waiting list was several months for routine cases. Snape had discovered early on that if that rule were not strictly enforced he’d spend most of his time meeting with the press and other celebrity hunting nutcases and never get his job done. Plus he hated interviews.

On the east wall was a huge colored map of the United States with little glowing red and green dots that updated itself every few minutes or so. The map was how he kept track of where his operatives were and where their quarry was as well. Whenever a new necromancer surfaced, he would add the person to the map with a spell and it would register as a blinking red dot. The map could show enlarged sections, so you could study terrain and layout of an area before going there, and it had a permanent locator spell on it. All of the dots were labeled. It was sort of like a more advanced type of Marauders Map.

Severus used the map to brief his Hunters before sending them out on an assignment, making sure their magical signatures could be traced by the map, so if they were in trouble, he could send someone in to help them. Below that was a small cabinet that contained a few emergency potions Severus kept on hand just in case he needed healing or a disguise or protection from an enemy. On his desk were two more framed photos, one of his goddaughter, Amelia Flynn, and another of his little niece Marietta holding Sevvy, her stuffed dog. Both photos were a year or so out of date, but Severus didn’t mind.

Sitting right next to the photos was a large square quartz crystal that seemed to sparkle with some inner energy. This was a crystal message cube and it was linked to three or four other message cubes throughout the building, enabling him to summon his associates and assistant Stanley without a fireplace. The message crystals were the latest in magical communication and as the Director of the DHI, Snape was privileged to have the most up to date magical inventions.

The crystals could be spelled for a private conversation or could be keyed to only be used by certain members of the agency and once implanted, could not be removed unless you knew the proper password. They were more efficient than the firecalling method and Severus considered them a very useful invention. Just then, the crystal atop his desk turned electric blue and chimed softly.

He walked swiftly back to his desk and tapped the side of it, saying “Snape here. What is it, Stanley?” The center of the crystal went clear and the face of his personal assistant, Stanley Barrow, appeared. Stanley was about thirty, with close cropped blond hair and darting blue eyes. He always seemed to be a perpetual state of nerves, but he was actually remarkably good at his job, and he made Snape’s life a good deal easier by screening visitors and calls and letters. Anyone wishing to see the Director had to first get past Stanley’s eagle-eyed inspection, and he guarded the Director’s privacy like a pit bull. He had once been a top agent, but the pressure had gotten to him and he’d retired from the field to become an administrative assistant, one of the best in the business.

“Director, the two o’clock meeting you had scheduled with Mr. Adams of the Defense Committee has been delayed until Tuesday, he’s been called out of town to Washington. And Jones and Applegate have caught the Red Devil, they’ve put him in one of the holding cells in Inferno until a court date can be set.”

“Good. Anything else?”

Stanley coughed, looking uncomfortable. “Uh, the school called a few minutes ago, concerning your ward, sir.”

Snape groaned. “What did he do this time?”

“Nothing, except contract some kind of stomach flu, sir. They sent him home via Floo powder, sir.”

“Gavin’s sick? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he snapped, rising to his feet. Sometimes Stanley’s priorities were backwards, he thought irritably. Then again, the man didn’t have kids, so his priorities were work-related in importance.

“I’ve taken the liberty of canceling all your other meetings this afternoon, sir,” Stanley said quickly, wary of his boss’s temper. “So you can go straight home now if you want.”

“Thank you, Stanley.” Severus sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, which he wore shorter than usual, making the white lock on the left side seem more prominent. That too was a legacy of his torture at Voldemort’s hands. “I’m probably going to take the day off tomorrow as well, I can’t leave him home alone sick like that.”

“I figured as much, sir,” said his assistant. “Although you might want to consider hiring a house elf to mind the kid.” He’d made that suggestion before, but Severus had refused to consider it.

House elves could mind ordinary wizard children, but Gavin could turn circles around them, and Severus did not think them capable of controlling his ward, which was why he never used them. “No, I can deal with the boy myself,” Snape said. “These kind of things rarely last more than twenty-four hours. I’ll see you in two days, Mr. Barrow. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, sir. I’ll hold down the fort,” Stanley said, his blue eyes twinkling. “Good luck.” Then the crystal flickered and Stanley’s face disappeared.

Heaving a sigh, Severus got to his feet, locked up all of his papers and his office, and Apparated back home to his small house in Point Pleasant, New Jersey to take care of his sick apprentice.