Author's Note: After a long absence, I have finally gotten around to writing more of this story. I know it's been going for a while, so thanks for those who continue to stick around, despite my unreliability. The reason I haven't written this in a while is that I was extremely sad when Erin Strauss died. She was my favourite character and I couldn't bring myself to watch it with out her, now that there would never be a chance of her being with Rossi. But I've recovered and have taken the time to show you that this story is still alive!

Chapter 21

Robert McGonagall carried a glass of water over to the desk and placed it down. He sat down again on his seat, as the man who faced opposite him shakily took the drink and had a sip. James Grey, husband of the late Lucy Whithers, looked awful. He had dark rings around his eyes, which were red from crying. His hands had not stop clenching since he had arrived at the school. Robert gave him a small, condoling smile, knowing that nothing he did would make the slightest bit of difference right now. He glanced over at Agent Hotchner, who sat next to him. The professional's face was straight, no hint of pain or emotion showing; was that the truth, Robert wondered, or was it simply a mask, one that had been created and perfected after years of sitting on this side of the table?

"I'm sorry to have to call on you in a time like this," Hotch said, his calm voice giving some credibility to the statement, "but it is essential that we get all the information that we can."

James put the glass down, nodding.

"I understand," he said, his voice harsh and strained, "And I want to help."

He swallowed.

"Lucy would want me to help."

Hotch opened the file that had been in front of him and spread out some pictures. They were stills of the security footage Garcia had found, one showing Amber and the other showing the mystery woman.

"Do you know either of these people?" Hotch inquired.

James tilted his head, his eyes studying each picture carefully. He lingered on the mystery woman for a second, showing perhaps a sign of recognition, but then he moved. He only glanced at Amber for a second.

"The girl is, was, a student here," he said, "Lucy knew her quite well, I think. The woman..."

He trailed off.

"Yes?" Hotch said, prompting him.

"I'm not sure," was James's response, "I feel like I've seen her before, but I couldn't give you a time or place."

"Sorry I can't be more helpful," he added.

Robert gave him a smile, hoping to show that anything James had to contribute was valued. He had a great admiration for what the young man was doing; in his mind, it showed strength and an integrity to his wife that was very touching.

"Did Lucy have any enemies?" Hotch asked, "Anybody who didn't like her or would wish her harm?"

"No!" James cried immediately, "No, everybody who knew her loved her. Well, my family did, at one point, hate her, but that's all forgotten now. They wouldn't want to hurt her."

Hotch wasn't going to let that go.

"Why did your family hate her?" he said.

James looked down at the table, unwilling to speak. When he finally did, he seemed rather ashamed.

"She's Muggle-born," he said, in almost a whisper.

Robert closed his eyes for a second and gave a curt nod of understanding. Hotch, however, looked confused.

"She had parents who were not magical," Robert explained to him.

"Does that make a difference?" Hotch said.

"No!" both wizards cried at once.

"Though some people think it does," Robert added in a dark tone.

"My parents," James admitted, "The Greys have been entirely Pureblood for as long as anybody can remember. So, you can imagine there was a bit of shock when I announced I was engaged to a Muggle-born."

Hotch nodded; though it took many forms, prejudice always looked the same in the end and he had seen plenty of it during his career.

"But they've come to accept it," James continued quickly, "None of my family would want Lucy hurt, if only for my sake."

He looked down at his glass and sighed, "she was something else, my Lucy."

Robert smiled, though it was tinged with sadness; here was a man who was clearly in love, something the world didn't have enough of. It was so cruel to see it taken away. Robert had seen plenty of that in his life time, his sister's Muggle ex-fiance and late husband springing to mind. The death of Elphinstone Urquart was the only time that Robert could remember Minerva ever being completely overcome with emotion. Upon being told of his passing, something not entirely unexpected but still unfortunate, she had fallen to the ground and not spoken for the remainder of the day, almost, to Robert's eye, appearing to not breathe. He'd poked his head around her door later in the day, to find her curled up on the bed, sobbing uncontrollably. It had been heartbreaking. Robert flicked his eyes over the solemn face of James Grey and suspected that he too had spent time alone in his room.

Meanwhile, Hotch was continuing with the interview.

"All three of our victims went to the Magical District at the same time every Sunday," he said, "Do you have any idea why Lucy might have done that?"

James looked surprised.

"Of course," he exclaimed, "She helps to run a support group. They meet on a Sunday. It's how she knew Amber. I thought you'd know?"

Robert shook his head; he'd never asked Lucy and, as he thought back, she'd never mentioned it.

"Lucy was fairly private about it," James said.

"What was the support group for?" asked Hotch.

"It was aimed at helping Squibs and their family members," James said, "You know, getting them where they need to be, helping them adjust."

Robert nodded. He remembered, from a conversation he had had with her parents some time ago, that Amber's brother was a Squib. She'd apparently been going to these meetings to try and help him; the girl rose immediately in Robert's estimation.

"What is a Squib?" Hotch said.

Robert had completely forgotten that he wouldn't know.

"It's a non-magical child born to magic parents," he explained, "Like the opposite of a Muggle-born wizard."

Suddenly Robert sat up straight, his eyes widening. He turned to Hotch, who was staring at him with interest.

"And it explains a lot," Robert whispered.