Chapter 3 - A Cat's Duty

It was the last day of the second grade for Oliver, and Siliva waited for him at home in the kitchen. She was cutting up tomatoes and lettuces for tacos as she talked with her friend John, who sat at the table behind her. "So, did he take the bait?"

"Hook, line and sinker," Siliva told him. "Just like they all do. . . but John, we may have a slight problem."

"What is it?" he asked as he shooed away a fly.

"I think my cover has been blown," she explained. "He knows my name isn't Siliva Carter and he knows about Oliver." She turned around to face John as she leaned on the counter, her knife still in hand. "Which means he knows where I live. "

"Fine, then do your job and take him out. We have all the information we're going to get from him anyway."

"That's what I'm saying, I don't think I can. If he has told anyone else who I am, which I'm sure he has, and he ends up dead, I'm going to be on the top the suspect list. I can't put my Oliver in danger like that or the Gatoo Organization."

"Listen Siliva, I'm telling you, just do your job and don't worry about the consequences of your actions. Remember, we Gatoos take care of our own."

"And what if you can't? What in the world am I suppose to tell my son if we have to pick up and move? What am I suppose to tell him if we have to change are names and more than likely live among the Muggles? He won't understand that."

"Have you no faith in the Organization that sees you as their prized assassin?" John asked as the fly landed on his forehead and he brushed it away.

"I only joined so that I could kill the Death Eater that You-Know-Who ordered to kill my fiancé. And once I've done that and have earned enough money for Oliver's schooling, I'm leaving the Gatoos. The Organization has known that from the very beginning, I made my goals very clear."

"Yes, of course. And you were told that once that information was available, you would be the first to have it. Patience is a virtue Siliva, so trust the Organization and if not them," he shook his head, "trust me." He then said softly, "You know I wouldn't let anything happen to you or your son."

"That's sweet of you." She turned back around to continue her cooking. "But I want my next assignments by the end of the week."

"So soon?"

"I don't dilly-dolly with my jobs like you, John. Besides, if I have to pretend to be a call girl for that man any longer, and have him touch me again, I may have to kill you for handing me over such an assignment."

"Hey," John threw his hands up as if surrendering. "Don't kill the messenger. . . so to speak." He smiled. "If you came in to pick up your own assignments you may have a choice in the matter."

"No, I don't like picking out the people I have to kill. It bothers me," she explained.

John looked at her in disbelief. "Yet, you take a demonic pleasure in seeing how many ways you can cut a person up without making a mess."

"Thirty-seven." She smiled. "I can cut up a person thirty-seven ways with minimum blood splatter. Besides, you know very well, using your wand is too risky in our line of work. Because if you're caught, the first thing the Ministry does is check your wand to see what was the last few spells you cast."

"Yes, I know. Do you forget I also work for the Ministry."

"Aw, yes." She turned and walked over to the refrigerator where she pulled out a jar of salsa. "Our little insider to help us out if any of us Gatoos are dumb enough to get caught." She turned to John. "Getting caught by the Ministry is the least of my worries." She walked back over to the counter and poured the salsa into a bowl. "You should leave soon. Oliver will be getting home soon and I don't want him to get accustomed to your face."

"Why? You ashamed of me or something?" John asked seriously as the fly was once again flying around his head.

"No, nothing like that." She justified, "Oliver is a very smart boy and I don't want him to figure anything out before I'm able to explain to him why I do what I do."

"No," he shook his head. "What you don't want him to know, is that you many be capable of loving another man other than his father."

Siliva paused at his words. "You don't know what you are talking about."

"You don't have to be afraid to fall in love again, Siliva. Oliver won't hate you for it."

Siliva huffed loudly as she picked up her kitchen knife before turning around and throwing it in the direction of John. John stayed completely still as the knife passed by his head and struck the wall behind him. "Don't patronize me, John."

John turned his head slightly to look at the knife beside his head. "You're losing your touch, Wood," he said with a smile.

"I wouldn't say that." Her eyes stared at the knife and so John completely turned his head to look at it. Pinned to the wall was the fly that had been bothering him earlier. "Now please, my son will be home any moment."

John was about to say something, but stopped as a concerned look filtered onto his face. "Siliva, your nose, it's bleeding."

"What?" Siliva brought the back of her hand up to her nose and sure enough she was bleeding. "No, need for alarm. I have wicked allergies during the beginning of summers. Been that why since I was a child." With the back of her hand still to her nose, Siliva turned off the heat to her ground beef before going over and taking the knife out of the wall. She then excused herself as John fixed the small whole with his wand. "See yourself out, John. I'll see you next week."



Oliver stepped off the elevator to his floor as a blonde headed man stepped on. Oliver recognized him from a few weeks ago, he was his mother's friend, but Oliver didn't say anything as he passed him, mostly because he didn't like the looks of him. Oliver had seen his mother kiss this guy and though he didn’t like it, Oliver never voiced it out loud.

As Oliver was continuing down the all towards his flat, he heard someone call out for him. "Ollie!" It was Marcus and Oliver happily turned around. "Want to come over and play?" he asked.

"Yeah," Oliver answered as he started walking towards Marcus.

Marcus looked at him curiously. "Don't you have to ask your mum or something?"

"Oh." Oliver raised both eyebrows. He hadn't even thought about that because she was absent so often. But his mother had told him that people weren't supposed to know how often he was home by himself. Oliver didn't know why, he thought he took care of himself well while she was away. "Yeah, I'll go ask now," he told Marcus and once again headed towards his flat. He was only going to wait inside for a minute before coming back out and saying that he had permission.

When he opened the door, the smell of tacos immediately entered his nose. "Mum?" he called half expecting not to hear her call back.

"I'm upstairs, Oliver. I'll be down in a moment," she told himashe put down his empty backpack by the door. It wasn't everyday that she was actually home when he came back from school. And as he followed his nose to the kitchen the thought of Marcus entirely slipped his mind.

A few moments later, Siliva came downstairs and went into the kitchen. She had come down prepared to fix a plate for Oliver, but was surprised that he had already fixed himself one and was already eating at the table. Sometimes Siliva forgot how independent he had become since she had joined the Gatoo Organization. She walked over to him and pushed his bang away from his forehead before giving him a kiss. "We can't put if off any longer, dear. A haircut after dinner, okay?"

Oliver only nodded because is mouth was full of food. She smiled as she walked over and fixed herself a plate, before sitting at the table to join her son. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Can I go play at Marcus' after my haircut?" he asked.

"Who's Marcus?" she asked him.

"He's my friend. Him and his family just moved into building a few weeks ago," he explained to her. "He's really nice, mama. I like him."

Siliva looked at her happy boy's face. "Alright, it's okay with me. Just make sure you don't outstay your welcome."

"Of course," he agreed as he continued to eat. When he was finished he put his plate in the sink and waited for his mother to cut his hair. As he sat and watched his brown locks fall to the floor by his mother's wand, he spoke. "Is it okay if I change my mind?" he asked her near the end of his haircut.

"Change your mind about what, dear?"

"About going over to Marcus'."

"But I thought you said you liked him."

"I do, but I don't want to come back only to find you gone," he admitted quietly.

Siliva stopped what she was doing and looked at her son. "Run and play, Oliver," she told him softly. "I'll be here when you come back." He looked up at her. "And I'll tuck you in when it's time for bed and I'll read you a story. Would you like that?" He nodded. "Then run and play."

He smiled at her before hopping out his chair and heading to his friends place. He knocked on the door and was greeted by warm smile. "Hello there, Ollie," said the voice. "Come on in. Marcus is in his room."

"Thank you, Mrs. Flint," Oliver told the woman with the hay colored hair before heading to Marcus' room. "Hey," he said happy as he looked at his friend sitting on the floor.

"What took you so long?" Marcus demand. "I thought you weren't coming."

"I had to eat dinner and-" He was cut off.

"Get a dorky haircut?" Marcus cocked an eyebrow as he chuckled.

"Yeah, that too," Oliver said as he ran his fingers through his freshly chopped off hair before sitting down in front of a peculiar three feet long rectangular box with a slit on each side. "What are you doing?"

"It's a game Chelsie gave me for my last birthday. Here." Marcus handed him over a flat board with pieces of designed parchment on it. The parchment had the layout of a Quidditch field on it. He then handed him a small thing of ink and a quill. "It's a strategy game," he explained. "You mark game plays and put then on the special paper. When you're done with that you put them into here," he pointed to the rectangular box, "and it plays out the game for you. It's fun," he told him.

"It's stupid," Oliver told him. "I don't like Quidditch."

"Just play," Marcus told him.

"Why can't we just play outside?" Oliver asked him.

Marcus looked at him with a sour face. "We did what you wanted to do last time," he told him. "And I didn't say anything about that stupid, ugly biscuit ball."

Oliver huffed, Marcus was right, usually they did what he wanted to do and that wasn't fair for Marcus. Besides, Oliver wanted to be a good friend, considering Marcus was the only one he really had and he didn't want to lose him over something this silly. "Fine." He picked up the quill and started marking the parchment, though he had no idea what he was doing, but he was too upset to ask Marcus for help.

"What are you guys doing?" The boys looked up and saw Chelsie standing in the doorway.

"Playing Quidditch," they both answered at the same time, but their tones where dramatically different.

"You want some help, Ollie?" she asked the distraught looking boy.

"Hey, what about me?" Marcus asked jealously.

"I've already taught you how to play. And knowing you, you probably didn't even tell the poor boy how to mark the plays." Marcus only smiled at his sister. "Just want I thought," she shook her head. "You troll."

"Stop calling me that." Marcus pouted as Cheslie laid lengthwise behind Oliver as she leaned her head on one hand and pointed a few things out to Oliver with the other before replying to Marcus by sticking her tongue out at him. Marcus countered by giving her an offensive gesture with his hand before going back to the matter at hand.

"No fair!" Marcus yelled at Oliver and Chelsie after a few minutes of watching their players play on the hologram like device. "You cheated!" he yelled once more.

Oliver and Chelsie only laughed. "We didn't cheat," Chelsie told her little brother. "And if we did, it's only cheating," she pointed to the official on the field, "if you get caught." She winked at him and he joined in on the laughter.

"But isn't cheating wrong?" Oliver asked and the Flint children just looked at him.

"Oi," Chelsie sat up. "A lot of work to do on this one," she said looking at her brother before turning to Oliver. "How do you plan on playing Quidditch, if you aren't willing to bend the rules in you favor?" she asked him.

"I don't plan on playing Quidditch. It's stupid."

Chelsie brought her hand up to her chest and gasped in mock shock before laughing. "You know, with that kind of attitude, you'll never beat Marcus on your own." She stood up. "I've taught him almost everything I know and he's good." Marcus sat up straight and gave Oliver a harsh smirk as he held his head high.

Oliver looked over at his friend and in that instant decided he didn't like that overconfident, egotistical look. It was that moment he had pledged to knock it off his face. "If I learned this game, the fair way," he stared defiantly into Marcus's blue eyes as he spoke to Chelsie, "I'm sure I could wipe the floor with him any day of the week."

"Is that a challenge, Wood?" Marcus asked excitedly.

Oliver looked at the game before them and then looked back up at Marcus before saying with straight face as he shook his head. "No."

Chelsie laughed as Marcus yelled, "You suck!" And threw his game play board at Oliver, which he easily caught before giving Marcus a smirk of his own.



It was early in the morning when there came a knock on the door of the Wood home. "I'm coming, I'm coming," Siliva said groggily as she tied her housecoat around herself heading down the stairs. She pushed back her had before opening the door to see who it could be. "John?" She brought her hand to her mouth and yawned. "What are you doing here?"

"You're next assignments." He handed her over a plain white envelope. "Sorry to have come so early, but I have other things to do today."

"I see," she began. "To you have time for a short visit?" she asked as she opened her door wide.

"You're not afraid of Oliver seeing me?" he asked.

"He's spending the nights at a friend's," she told him and he walked inside as she closed the door behind him. As he walked over to the couch to sit down, Siliva opened the envelope to see her new assignments. John stared at her as she stared at her assignments. "You're not pleased," he stated.

"That's not it." She shook her head. "You know the concerns I had about my last assignment. Did the Head Gatoos honestly think this one was wise?" she asked as she sat down next to him and handed him the assignment card of her next victim.

"You're in the perfect position to get close, find out information, and to take him out," John explained.

"I don't know. This one worries me," she told him.

"He's a Death Eater, Siliva, just like them all, and the Ministry is doing nothing. They don't even think Death Eaters are a threat anymore since the disappearance of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But we know better, don't we Siliva?"

Siliva held her head down and softly replied, "Yes."

John sighed; he didn't like seeing her like this. "But if it honestly bothers you, I'll go back and get you a new assignment."

"No," her head snapped up and she grabbed the card from his hand. "No." She once again stared at the cards in hands. "When you go back to the Head Gatoos, you can tell them that Jason Conaway and Alvin Flint are as good as dead."

To Be Continued. . .

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