An American Mage in Wizarding Britan (HP AU)

[X]- Middle Road (I've heard we have similar interests...)
[X]- Thunderdome (Nobody enters or leaves till our guy comes out)

James Greaves

Taking a moment to hug your daughter, your daughter's extended armory, and her prickly ego that was probably screaming "I AM QUEEN OF THE WORLD!" somewhere, you smiled at her.

"Have a good time?" you asked, and she nodded. This wasn't the first time she'd been at Ground Zero, but as you looked over her face you could tell she wasn't too happy.

"Just fine, Dad." She replied, stepping out of the way. "Mind if I make introductions?"

"Be my guest." The Other James said, slightly too slick as he spoke. You instantly decided today would be an excellent day to be White Feathers, and got ready to bargin.

"Ahem. James, Sirius, Remus, this is my father, James Quanah Greaves of the United States of America. He's the American attache to Wizarding England, and he has been working against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for most of his time here."

You smiled courteously, and bowed slightly. "Please, call me White Feathers for today. I'd rather avoid confusion."

"Quite." The Other James said.

"Dad, these are the Marauders of Hogwarts, and the leaders of this chapter of the Order of the Phoenix. First among equals is James Potter, a Wizard of some familial renown. He's a Transfigurist, and also the de facto leader here."

At this, Other James bowed. "Delighted to meet you, Mr. White Feathers."

"Next, Sirius Black. An Anamagi, or shapeshifter, he's well-versed in combat arts and has been one of the largest figures in fighting off the Death Eaters in the few times the Order has directly engaged in combat."

Now, the shaggy one let loose a grin and chuckle. "That would be me." He explained, as close to courteous as he could.

"Finally, Remus Lupin. Last of our Marauders, he's been the logistical brains of the operation from day one on out. While I can safely say his wandwork is about as much help as a thrown bowl of ramen, what's under those wire rims is quite possibly the most potent weapon in the Order's arsenal."

"Pleased to meet you." The last of them said courteously, a smile on his face. You liked him.

"Good, good." You said, smiling. "Now, I believe we all happen to have some mutual interests here- specifically, stopping Voldemort in his tracks."

---

Blackstone Greaves.

1d20=11+3(Infiltration)+4(Blackstone)
Success!

"Contact!" one of your girls yelled, her segment of the wards going bright. "We got a runner!"

Without blinking, three of your motorcycle girls spun their wheels and charged him, a small man rushing out of the meeting place like a bat out of hell. Yelling, the fat little man just kept ducking and dodging, but your girls were damn good. He was grounded shortly after, and the sight of two lances and an AK-47 were enough to get him to stay down.

After trussing him up like a turkey, you got ready to haul him back in. A full detachment of your Rifle Mahou Shoujo took the duty, while you knocked on the door. A man opened it, his rather lanky hair obscuring much of his face.

"Yes?" he asked.

"You guys might have a security leak." You said, dead serious.

"Hmm? No, this is just Peter- he's our messenger to the other Order chapters." The man said, frowning. "Peter, what happened to you."

"They stopped me! One of the Order's own messengers! They can't do this!" Peter yelled, straining against his rope bonds.

"Yes, we can." You replied, droll. "Thunderdome Rules today. Nobody goes in or out till we get White Feathers back."

"Well." The man said, smiling at you for a brief second. "I'll be taking him, then. If you need anything, just ask for Severus."

"I will." You said, smiling faintly. It was always good to work with a professional.

---

James Greaves

1d100+1d10+2d4= 84+7+4+4
Success!

"I understand you've been in-country for a number of years, White Feathers, but the Order of the Phoenix has seniority by six hundred years. I believe that an organization dedicated to destroying the Dark would be far more effective than an understaffed group from a young country."

Public debate, in front of the entire membership of this Chapter of the Order. Jesus Fucking Christ with Elijiah and Moses in sidecars, no wonder these guys were getting used as a football.

"A young country, Mr. Potter, does not mean a weak country. The Dark may be more foreign to us, but monsters and devils are our close neighbors, and not of the pleasant variety. Tell me, have any of you seen a Thin Man?"

A murmer of 'no' went around the ring as you started sketching in the air to form an illusion with your wand.

"They're quite the species of beast. About seven feet tall, whip-thin, and fast as the devil himself. They steal children and the elderly, spew acid and poison, and can change their shape at will."

As the form of the Thin Man came to in the air, you twitched your wand and it blew itself up to its full size before it spewed a cloud of acid.

"They regenerate from their wounds in hours, can lose all their limbs and survive, and reproduce via binary division. They're twilight hunters, and plague most communities in the Great Plains region."

With another swipe of my wand, I smiled faintly. "I cut my teeth in on them when I was eight. My father could kill them by the score. Every Mage of America has tangled with their ilk at least once. Tell me, what is the most dangerous creature any of you has killed?"

Silence. You pressed on.

"I forgot- the British Isles are extinct of anything above the ICW's second level of threat. Fine, then. Any Adventurers out in the audience, to have gone to the burning shores of Africa or the deadly Spice Islands?"

Nothing, still.

"What? What happened to those brave men, your grandfathers and great grandfathers? Where did they all go?"

Finally, a response. "They all died, you American bastard!"

You laughed for a moment and pointed at him. "This man! This man understands! And tell me, how did they die? Mauled by Rocs, trampled by pushmepullyou, perhaps taken down by wild natives? Dead to the guns of the Hun, maybe? Face it- a tradition is useless if it dies stillborn! Seven hundred years you claim your line of war against the Dark? Ha! That line died in Nineteen-Seventeen, and you cocksure Phoenixes know it!"

Dead silence. Looking at James, you smirked. "Press another claim on my men; I dare you. I came here looking for partners, not a master to kiss the heels of."

---

Copperfield Greaves

Up here in the air, all you could hear was the light ruffling of your RIO as he sorted through his materials while your gunner just snoozed.

"Hey, Copper." The RIO muttered, adjusting his mask. "You wanna break orbit for… ten minutes? I keep picking something funny up on the north sweeps."

"Sure." You said, switching to outbound radio. "This is Prometheus Actual, gonna take a dogleg north, see what we can see. Over."

"Prometheus two to Actual; rodger. Out."

As you eased your Widow north, you sighed quietly. "Nothing?" you finally asked, looking back at the RIO.

"Nothing yet. Just an incoming shower it looks like."

"Right, time to head back to the negotiations."

---

Susan Greaves

1d20=14

In the back, you were silently shaking your head as you sat with Remus.

"James is getting crushed out there." He muttered, rolling his wand in his fingers.

"Yep."

"It's not going to end well."

"Yep."

"We're going to end up as his disposable mage corps at this rate. James can't get this back under control, and all the animal magnatism in the world won't beat out someone who just drips battle experience."

Putting your head in your hands, you sighed. "Remus, is it nearly that time of month for you? I can loan you a spare rag if you need it."

Remus flinched at this, and shook his head. "No, no, just a little upset. We were doing good alone, damnit!"

"I saw the books, Remus." You said quietly. "You're strapped for cash, and the only way from staying under Voldemort's radar involves Muggle jobs. We both know that's not paying the bills, and the Ministry has been trying to shut you guys down for months now."

"You saw the front end books." Remus replied, miffed. "We're in better shape on the black end."

"Not by much." You said, flatly. "You know how much funding I save you by training up your strike elements, and right now you're still shy on gun money."

"Can you blame me for cutting funding to your half-baked support militia?" he snapped, glaring at you. "I've never seen a Muggle outfight a Wizard!"

"No." you corrected. "You've never seen an Englishman outfight a wizard. Large difference. My militia can and will hold the line. Remember how I told you we got my father's advisors how to teach us magic?"

"Yeah."

"Look at the force outside. That's a tenth of our total firepower thereabouts. Less than that depending on how you count it. You can't afford not to work with us; and us likewise."

"How so?"

"How many interceptions has the Order done last year?"

"Twenty-three successes, four where we got there first, thirty-something clean misses."

You sighed, and looked at Remus. "Keep this between us; but we've had about that many fights in eight years- and most of those haven't been with Death Eaters."

Remus blanched. "What?"

"There's other shit that goes bump in the night out there, Remus. Werewolfen SS, Cult of the Yellow Sign members, Goddamn French, Soviets… we've been holding a hell of a lot of lines. We need a tap on Voldie, or else he could sink our asses. You guys would be that tap."

"I… I need to talk to James about this."

---

VOTES

James vs. Other James
[]- North Wind and Sun (Ease off on the debate pressure, let him recover some)
[]- The Truth, it Burns (Keep pressing)
[]- Bait and Switch (Pull back, test for reaction)

Remus's Truths
[]- Let him see James and talk with him
[]- Let him see Other James (Potter) and talk with him
[]- Keep him to yourself; learn what he's got to share.