Chapter 10

Tom had finished reading the preface and introductory chapter when the door to the room he was in opened. Aurors Wilkins and Blishwick came in, Wilkins looked rather more annoyed than before, and Blishwick was flipping through the papers in hand.

"Tom, you remember my partner, Auror Blishwick," Wilkins said perfunctory. "We have those photographs for you to take a look at."

"Of course, sir," Tom said with a nod.

Blishwick pulled two black and whites out of the folders and slid them across the table. "Do you recognize either of these boys, son?"

Tom looked down at the photos and his jaw slackened. The photo of the brute, Fenrir, showed him silently blubbering, his forehead and cheeks sporting half a dozen long cuts that oozed blood down into his eyes and chin. And Antonin's greasy face was near waxen from his poisoning, a bruise along the side of his face from being disarmed and hitting the pavement showing all the clearer because of the pallor, the older boy trembling in a hospital bed with sweat trickling down both sides of his face. The animals had really done a number on the two of them.

Blishwick cleared his throat, clearly waiting for an answer. Tom swallowed nervously, then nodded. He pointed to Antonin, "That one, Antonin, was with the other two during the fight. He's the one that hit Amaryllis with the force spell that cracked her ribs. He seemed to be leading the group. He got bit by a snake in the alley. That one," he said pointing to the other picture, "I recognize from seeing him around with the others, but he wasn't in the alley with us. Antonin mentioned Fenrir got scratched up by Amaryllis' bird while it was trying to defend her. I heard him screaming before they reached the alley, after there had been a lot of loud firecracker like noises and her screaming."

"Thank you, Tom," Wilkins said with a nod. He looked to his partner. "I believe that's all we need from the boy?"

Blishwick nodded. "I'll bring the pictures by Dippet Manor so the girl can confirm the identifications, but this should be open and shut."

Wilkins' frown deepened and he muttered, "We'll see. Jenks is a slippery bastard and Mulciber is already railing about his boy and nephew being arrested."

"Don't do the crime if you can't do the time," Blishwick said with equal obvious disdain for the people in mention.

Wilkins nodded in agreement and turned his attention back to Tom. "Alright, lad. I have a few papers to file and arrests to make, then I'll be done here. We'll get you some dinner and then back to your residence so you can get some rest."

"Thank you, sir," Tom said with gratitude.

"Are you alright here, or have you changed your mind about a snack or some tea?"

"I'm fine, but thank you, sir," Tom said, unable to keep himself from fidgeting under the auror's gaze. The older wizard seemed a bit concerned as his gaze scanned him. Apparently, even with the little bit of weight he had gained thanks to Mr Fowl's cooking, the auror could obviously tell the orphan was a little underfed and was trying to get him to eat more while he could. Tom was only starting to feel a little hungry, though, as his lunch had quite filled him up. He wished it wasn't so painfully obvious that he was living in less than ideal circumstances. He didn't like being pitied, no matter how well intentioned or if there was respect mixed in.

Apparently the auror realized he had made the child uncomfortable with the offer, as he nodded once and then turned to his partner with a sigh. "Ready to enflame a few starched robes?"

Blishwick chuckled. "Always ready for that."

The two aurors left Tom to puzzle his way through the dueling book written in antiquated English. Mr. Yard was a bit long winded, but the first chapter was filled with interesting tid bits on the history of dueling throughout the last two millennia, interspersed with insight as to how those events played into customs still observed in more modern duels.

An hour or so later, Auror Wilkins returned to fetch Tom for dinner. The boys, their fathers, and the attorney were nowhere to be seen. Tom followed the older wizard out of the outpost and back towards Carkitt Market, his belongings floating behind them. Wilkins nodded to a few other people that hailed him, but didn't stop to talk, seemingly caught up in his own thoughts.

On their way, not far from the Auror's office, Tom noticed a larger, two story building called, "Dippet's Defense Outpost". If memory served correctly, the owner was his headmaster's great-great-grand nephew, who had also spent some time as an Auror. Alexandro Dippet was considered to be one of the top contenders for inheriting the Dippet vault; that is, before Armando had gotten himself a daughter. Tom wondered how that distant Dippet was feeling about that sudden displacement.

When they reached the archway that spilled out into the Market, Auror Wilkins asked, "Any foods that don't agree with you, son?"

Tom shook his head. "None that I know of, sir."

Wilkins nodded with a small smile. "After the day I've had, I'm fancying the thought of a steak for dinner. Sound agreeable to you?"

Tom nodded and said honestly, "That sounds delicious. Thank you, sir."

Wilkins led him to a bustling restaurant to the south-west side of the market, nearby the archway they had entered through. The awning declared it to be "Madame Smith's Succulent Steaks", and the smell coming from the steakhouse was indeed succulent. Tom shifted uncomfortably, he recognized the restaurant and knew that the meals here were outside his usual price range. He had no choice, however, but to follow Auror Wilkins inside, past a large group of early-twenties witches and wizards waiting to be seated. Wilkins didn't bother glancing at the group, instead flipping on a charming smile and flirting with the waitress he was clearly familiar with, asking if she might be able to find a seat for him and his guest. The pretty raven haired waitress blushed and, between flirtations, said she could find a table for the duo. Tom watched with minor interest, surprised that the auror was flirting with the waitress, though he had stated earlier he had no intentions of finding himself a new wife. Apparently he really wanted a timely steak if he was willing to skip the lines and use his charms on the woman to get them seated quickly.

In no time at all, they were zigzagging through the crowd and to a highly polished corner booth in the back of the restaurant. Wilkins asked for his usual and ordered a butterbeer for Tom. While they waited on drinks, Wilkins made a few brief suggestions on meal choices, but told Tom he was free to order whatever appealed to him. Wilkins' suggestion of the prime steak and beans with grilled vegetables and mushrooms sounded immensely appeasing and, ignoring the price listed next to the entry, gave his order when the waitress returned. Wilkins gave an approving nod and ordered the same, asking for an extra side of vegetables for himself and the option of melted cheese on them.

Once the waitress left, Wilkins gave a relieved sigh, stretched out, cracking his knuckles over his head. Giving another relieved sigh, the Auror's expression became more relaxed and he took a long swig of his fire whiskey. "Ah…" Wilkins said with a satisfied grin, "let me tell you, lad. When you're older, you're going to find there's nothing like a cold drink and a hot steak to launch your weekend off right."

Tom smiled politely back and nodded once, then took a small sip of his first butterbeer. It was fizzy like pop, but smoother and creamier. He wasn't much for sweets, but the butter beer had enough underlying bite to it to make it enjoyable. "Thank you, sir. This is indeed a nice treat for the weekend."

The auror nodded pleasantly and took a smaller sip of his own drink. "It's no trouble, Tom, and the least that can be done after you rescued Miss Dippet and had your afternoon interrupted. That really was some quick thinking and wand work on your part."

Tom bowed his head modestly, saying, "Thank you, sir. I just let my instincts decide what the right responses were."

"Well, you've certainly got proper instincts, son," Wilkins said. "How are you enjoying the book so far? I know the language is a bit rambling, Yard liked to hear and read himself go on, but he knew his stuff."

Tom took another small sip of his butterbeer and then said, "I think it's a fascinating read, sir, but I'm not sure how the formalized rules he speaks of in the first chapter of the book would be much use in practice."

"How so?" Wilkins asked neutrally, pulling a complementary loaf of bread from the platter in the center of table, ripping it in half and offering a piece of the faintly steaming bread to the younger wizard.

Tom accepted it, had a bite, then said, "Well, for instance, what happened today. Those boys weren't following the rules of a duel. They had ganged up on a single non-combatant, and then I entered more by surprise, not announcing my presence properly. Everything went against rules of a duel."

Wilkins nodded. "And that's partially why those boys lost, they had no discipline." To Tom's curious gaze, he said. "In the field, no, there's not going to be a perfect adherence to dueling rules. But take my partner and I. Blishwick and I know each other's strengths and weaknesses in dueling and we know how to shift back and forth between us, controlling the flow of a fight and breaking up less disciplined opponents we need arrest so we can force them into a proper one on one duel. Once we've done so, and knowing the other is watching our back, we inevitably win because we're now in familiar territory and can disable our opponents.

"From the sounds of things, the little gang you had to deal with this afternoon were shooting off spells at their own discretions, not communicating very well with one another and getting themselves picked off one by one, yes?"

"Yes," Tom agreed after a few seconds. "They came rushing into the alley and didn't even see me there. Antonin was too busy yelling at Amaryllis, the cousins were trying to fend off the hawk."

"If they had any proper discipline, a hawk would hardly be a distraction, and the both of you that had been cornered wouldn't have been walking out of that alley unaided," Wilkins said matter-of-factly. "In a duel, whether formal or on the streets, you need to be aware of your surroundings so you can use them to your advantage and be the one to unarm your opponents one after another, regardless of outside influences. You assign yourself and those with you equal shares of the tasks to keep guarded, or manufacture more accommodating situations if you're outnumbered and can't properly keep aware on your own. You kept focused, paid attention to the surroundings, so you were able to minimize damage taken and pick off your opponents strategically. Learning the ins and outs of proper dueling will sharpen your focus, teach you more adaptability and staying on your toes, which are skills that carry over to street fighting and survival."

Tom nodded his understanding and ate a few more bites of his bread, then asked the question he wanted answered. "Why are you offering all the helpful insight, sir? Not that I don't appreciate it, because I do, but why bother encouraging me to learn when I haven't even started my first year at Hogwarts?"

Wilkins raised an eyebrow and laughed. "Maybe it's because I don't like seeing talent go to waste, and if I know delinquents any, you'll be needing to stay on your toes this year to keep out of the hospital wing."

"Maybe?" Tom asked.

Wilkins shrugged and said frankly, "Maybe. Or maybe it's also that I can appreciate a young wizard acting like a proper wizard, no matter your upbringing, and I'd like to see that stay with you, despite whatever trouble you might find coming your way if their damaged egos seek a bit of childish revenge."

Tom stared at the wizard, surprised by his words. He had theorized Wilkins was in a better category than he had initially thought the older wizard to be in, but he didn't expect such a blunt statement.

Wilkins obviously noticed his surprise because an eyebrow raised archly as he took a sip of his fire whiskey. Setting it down, he said with thinly veiled amusement, "Not what you expected, hm? Well, I know overhearing a bit of sarcastic commentary over a lunch can set an opinion, but it's not as though those few minutes were a fair depiction of character."

Tom felt his ears go red with mortified embarrassment, the first time he could ever remember such an event happening. After a few seconds gaping at the auror, he said, "You… You noticed me at lunch?!"

"Do you think I've survived this long as an auror by being unaware of my surroundings?" Wilkins chuckled and shook his head, following it with a tutting noise. "I regularly frequent the Market for lunch, and an unattended child suddenly falling into the routine of grabbing the same lunch at Fowl's at the same time each day, three times a week, did register as a change in the norm, even if only to keep an eye on you in the market so nothing befell you during my rounds."

Tom blinked once in surprise, trying to keep his reactions moderated. "So… Did you mean what you said at lunch? Or what you're saying now?"

"Both," Wilkins stated.

"Both?" Tom asked with confusion, not sure how both could be true.

Wilkins leaned forward and, after a moment's pause, Tom mimicked him. He said in a lower, more serious voice, "Here's something important for you to learn, lad. People aren't good or evil, black or white. We all have complicated views. Most of us fall somewhere in the middle. I, like many of old houses, don't much like muggles after all the trouble they've caused over the course of history, nor all the extreme lengths we have to go to to hide from them. But I don't hate them. I don't hate mudblood wizards and witches." The auror didn't hesitate to use the slur, but he didn't say it with the same caustic tone many used. "I don't like how many of them try to barge in and change everything to fit into their muggle-raised views. I don't like how disrespectful they are of wizarding traditions. I don't like how they've ruined houses by marrying into them and pissing away fortunes trying to show they're more wizard than pureblood wizards. But…"

He held up a finger, pointing it at Tom. "But that doesn't mean I dislike the whole lot of muggleborns and half bloods. There's some who genuinely want to integrate with us and don't make fools of themselves. And we need those ones if we don't want to die off from bloodlines getting too intercrossed. My grandmother on my father's side was muggleborn, and one of my great, great grandfathers on my mother's side was a halfblood. It's a reality of wizarding existence. Contrary to what some say, there's not truly, one hundred percent pure lines outside a few groups of backwater bumpkins that marry their own kin. And believe me, you don't want to see what those are like."

Wilkins shook his head again with a grimace of distaste, leaned back in his seat and downed the last of his fire whiskey. "No, lad, I don't mind your sort. You're clearly taking the gumption to integrate and be a proper wizard. And we need young wizards willing to continue acting with dignity, instead of acting like spoiled brats resting on their laurels and names. Getting complacent is how we end up with trouble brewing like the main land is having right now. We're better than that."

Tom thought of all the rumors circulating about the growing dark wizards in Europe and shuddered. He was a half blood, and that put him as sub human to the likes of Grindlewald. "Do you think the trouble with Grindlewald will stay over there?"

Wilkins shrugged again and said as he signaled to the waitress that he wanted a refill of his drink, "We can hope so, lad, but it doesn't hurt to remain wary and proactive. We may have relative safety on this little island of ours, but there's plenty with ties to the rest of Europe and that can open the door for conflicts to come creeping on over. Whatever our differences over here, we still have to protect our own."

The waitress came over with a fresh glass. "Here you are, Arturo. Dinner will be up in just a few minutes."

"Thank you, doll," Wilkins said with a return of his charming smile.

After a few more flirtatious exchanges, the waitress had to attend to other customers calling for her attention.

The auror raised his new glass to the younger wizard, "Whether it's foreign enemies when you're older, or other student wizards who do their fathers disservice by acting foolishly, keep your guard up and listen to your instincts and you'll secure yourself a long, prosperous future."

Tom lifted his glass to the older wizard, "Thank you, sir, for the vote of confidence."

Their steaks were brought out and dinner was spent discussing basic points of dueling, Wilkins giving advice and examples of how techniques could be employed for a younger student of the martial aspects of magic.

Tom realized halfway through dinner that the answer to why Wilkins was being so solicitous might have been something much simpler than the answers previously given- the widowed, childless auror seemed lonely, in no hurry to rush to the end of dinner, and seemed to be enjoying having an attentive audience to pass some wisdom off to. The younger wizard with 'good instincts for dueling' must have made a welcome diversion from his usual routine.

Tom was more than happy to delay his return to the orphanage and let his interest in the topics show, allowing him to glean bits of knowledge from his elder. The sun was setting when dinner was finally finished and paid for, and Wilkins had a small stack of fire whiskey glasses forming a pyramid on the corner of their table. To Tom's surprise, the auror was still perfectly stable on his feet and his steps weren't the least faltering as he led them back outside.

"Wool's is that huge, fenced in brick building near the old fire station in the north east district, yes?" Wilkins asked once outside on the relatively quieter sidewalk.

Tom nodded, feeling a twinge of disappointment that it was time to return. "Yes, sir. I'm surprised you know of it."

Wilkins smirked ruefully. "We had to use the old fire station as a base for a sting operation we were undertaking some years back. Got to know the neighborhood well enough during the month or so we were there."

Tom nodded to that answer and followed the auror to the nearest apparition platform.

"Ever done side along apparition?" Wilkens asked as they got in line behind a middle aged couple.

Tom shook his head. "No, sir."

Wilkens gave a wry chuckle. "You'll either dislike it or hate it the first time, but it'll get you home quick and safe. Close your eyes and take a breath in, it helps keep from getting sick."

Tom nodded and glanced to the platform nervously. "What's it feel like to apparate?"

"Like you're being forcibly squeezed through an incorporeal tube of toothpaste," Wilkens said with what Tom was realizing was his habitual frank manner when off duty.

"I suppose there's worse possibilities," Tom said with resignation.

Wilkins nodded, "That's the spirit, son. And it doesn't last long."

Their turn came up and Tom took the free hand Wilkins' offered him, the other having shopping bags slung over his arm and hand holding the trunk to be apparated with them. He closed his eyes, took the deep breath in, and then felt himself pulled and jerked at an incalculably swift speed, feeling as though he was being squished in on himself from the force of the movement. But he had hardly registered the feeling before it was over, leaving him stumbling forward on the gravely side street that intersected the dead end that Wool's was located on.

Wilkins steadied him with a hand to the shoulder, saying as he saw Tom put a hand to his mouth and his throat gulping to hold back his dinner, "Easy there, Tom. Take slow breaths and you'll be okay."

Tom concentrated on his breathing and managed not to vomit, but it was several seconds before his limbs stopped shaking. Wilkins patted him on the shoulder and to his inquiry, nodded that he was alright.

Once he was in control of himself again, Tom followed Wilkins up the street to Wool's. Wilkins said mildly, "With any luck, you'll be able to wait things out here until you leave for Hogwarts. We've got a substantial amount of evidence on the ruffians you crossed with and their lawyer will likely choose to bargain a lighter sentence for a guilty plea than leave it to the Wizengamot. We'll send you an owl enchanted not to attract muggle notice if they decide to press their luck and we need witness testimony. Someone will escort you there and back safely if that's the case."

Tom nodded. "Doesn't sound much different than muggle law."

Wilkins raised an eyebrow, glancing down. "Got much experience with that, do you?"

Tom immediately shook his head to the contrary. "No, sir. But living here, I see what happens with some of the brutes who get themselves in trouble."

Wilkins nodded once, giving a baleful glance at the orphanage. "If I were you, lad, I'd put in to spend holidays at Hogwarts. Safer and gives you more time to study. When you're old enough for a job, see about getting summer work and lodging at Diagon. There's some shopkeepers that will give you a room for reduced salary paid out. Less time you spend here, less likely something is to happen to you."

Tom nodded. "If I can spend holidays away, I will be doing so." After a few seconds silence, drawing near to the front gates, he asked, "How old does one have to be to be an auror?"

"We'll let you try your hand at training if you finish Hogwarts with top marks," Wilkins said with a smirk. "Til then, I'd suggest studying as much as you can. Maybe look into the more serious shops for summer work after your fifth year. Do well enough on your O.W.L.s and you might even be able to get one of the Martial Alley stores to take you on for summer. Those are good contacts to have on most any application you'll be wanting to place after graduation."

Tod nodded again, filing that information away in his mind. "Thank you, sir. I'll be sure to remember that."

Wilkins nodded and came to a halt outside the gate. A lazy wave of his wand set the shopping bags and trunk down next to Tom. He said with a half smile, "Take care of yourself, lad, and perhaps I'll be seeing you in seven years."

Tom gave a small bow of his head as he collected up the handles of his bags and trunk. "I was going to say the same to you, sir." Wilkins laughed at the cheeky response, as hoped. "Thank you for the dinner and, interesting, means of escort back."

"You're welcome," Wilkins said as he turned and gave a small wave of his wand, causing the gate to swing open for the student as one last gesture of goodwill.

Tom watched the auror walk off down the street, until the evening's shadows overtook him. There wasn't any working streetlamps immediately outside the orphanage, so that didn't take long. Tom wondered how hard it was to learn to cast spells without speaking incantations as he had seen the auror do. Was that something only aurors learned, to be more stealthy? He had so much to learn about being a proper wizard.

The young wizard glanced to the looming orphanage, the electricity had already been cut for the night and there was only a few windows faintly aglow with flickering candlelight, and a heavy sigh escaped him. He really wasn't looking forward to an entire month of being cooped up here, utterly isolated from anything and anyone remotely magical. September 1st couldn't come soon enough.