Dennis dined with Cameron on Wednesday and Thursday evenings as he sought more information regarding the Hickings. Although they did not murder Thomas, it seemed odd they hired the person most likely to carry out the foul deed. Cameron asked for details, but Dennis begged him off from the request. To compensate, he allowed the sleekly dark and handsome young man to talk him into spending one night in Nottingham. The feel of a living, warm person pressed against his body acted as a restorative for what he learned. However, Dennis never told Cameron he got permission from Mr. Odpadki to remain in Nottingham so he could continue his research.
The new information Dennis learned needed corroboration, but it could come from only one source: the Finch family. His brain again rode to the rescue and reminded him he might already know a person related to the family. An owl flapped from Nottingham to the Springpool magical community just southwest of Newcastle-under-Lyme near Keele University. The owl locator directory did come in handy at times. Unfortunately, the return owl nearly revealed Dennis' wizarding identity to Cameron when it showed up at Cameron's flat. It took Dennis half an hour to retrieve the response, send the owl to his mother with note telling her to give it two hot dogs, and read the message. The message seemed weirdly formal.
"Dear Dennis Creevey,
Very splendid to hear from you, and I hope this finds you in good health. I would be delighted to meet with you regarding the history of my family. It is marvelous others take interest in the intersection between our world and royalty within the United Kingdom. Thus, I can only hope I may be of service.
As luck would have it, my agenda for this Saturday is delightfully empty of appointments. While I intended to play a match or two of tennis in the afternoon, I will make room to have tea with you. I can easily spare two hours. Shall we say two past midday? Do, please, send word if this appointment time is adequate.
Sincerely,
Justin Finch-Fletchley
6 Arbor Court
Springpool-on-Keele"
Dennis did not get the chance to send a reply until the next morning before returning to London to meet Mr. Odpadki. As Cameron did not like to leave bed too early in the morning, he did not make the attempt to escort Dennis to the train station when the sun started to peak over the horizon. Sometimes the deceptions Dennis needed to carry out with Cameron weighed on him. As he went to the Nottingham aviary, his mind got preoccupied by many other considerations. His backpack thumped against him as he trotted through the streets of Nottingham trying to catch a bus.
The previous evenings spent with Cameron spared Dennis from concocting fabrications as to why he needed the afternoon free. He simply told his boyfriend, and Dennis thought of him in those terms even though they never settled on the full status of their relationship, he would arrive sometime between five and six in the afternoon depending on the train he took. Cameron never questioned the explanation. Hence, Dennis used Saturday morning to prepare to interview Justin Finch-Fletchly armed with a significant amount of material. He parents saw him with his notes and never intruded on his research.
At two o'clock in the afternoon, a better dressed Dennis passed through the cloaking spell that hid Springpool-on-Keele from the muggle world. Two cul-de-sacs formed the heart of the community. On one roundabout sat rows of townhouses. The did not look inexpensive in any degree. On the other cul-de-sac much larger single-unit dwellings stood. Dennis stood on the stoop of one of those, number six, after presenting his wand to the gate. It swung open for him. He pulled the small cord next to the door, and chimes sounded from within the house. Seconds later the door opened, and house elf looked up at him.
"Mister Creevey?" The elf asked.
"Um, yes. I am," he replied.
"Very good. Master Justin is awaiting you in the parlor," the elf intoned in a very controlled Oxfordian English. "Please, wipe your shoes and follow me."
Dennis stepped inside a splendid home appointed in modern minimalist style. White, very pale beige, and cream created the color pallet. White marble floors with faint gray veining ran underfoot. He wiped his feet as directed and trotted after the elf. Like many house elves, it wore a what appeared to be a scrap pillow case. However, not a single blemish or stain could be seen. Furthermore, the sheen of the cloth indicated it might be silk. The elf's bare feet made hardly a sound as it walked on the marble, unlike the Hogwarts' house elves whose feet could be heard flapping everywhere. He got led to a sitting room.
"Ah, Dennis, hello and welcome!" Justin said when the elf ushered him in. Justin stood from the tea table. He walked forward with his hand extended.
Justin presented himself as a tall, rather affable-looking young man with dark hair parted on one side, keen brown eyes, and a rather noticeable underbite. He wore expensive muggle clothing of a casual variety: khaki pants, white Oxford shirt, and comfortable loafers. Dennis felt relieved he decided to dress up a little. With his backpack slung over his shoulder, he reached to accept the handshake.
"Very good to see you. Good indeed," Justin animatedly said while vigorously pumping the hand.
"You're looking well," Dennis replied and tried to slow down the rate of the hand movement.
Justin took the hint and released his hand. He then guided Dennis to the table that rested next to a window and offered a pleasant view of a tall hedge. They sat across from one another.
"I must say I'm rather intrigued by the missive you sent the other day. Whatever caught your interest in my family?" His host asked without any other preamble.
"Your ties to the Earl of Nottingham," Dennis plainly answered.
"Interesting indeed. We are fourth cousins to the current Earl, Daniel Finch-Hatton. As you can see, the Finch family got spread around a bit. All the to-do with Cromwell saw to that, and now the title is joined with the Earl of Winchilsea," Justin explained, and then cast a furtive glance. "You don't seem like you're interested in that side, Dennis."
"Not particularly," he admitted. "But I'm glad you mentioned Cromwell."
Justin's dark eyebrows moved upward.
"This is a very complex story, but… would you happen to know the Finch family tree at that time?"
"Of course. I can show you records, but… why the interest?" The young man inquired again.
"Because I've become friends with the ninth Earl of Nottingham, and I'm trying to solve his murder."
Justin looked incredibly surprised. To mask it, he poured tea from the pot. Then he offered milk and sugar. Dennis took a single lump of sugar. While he stirred it into his tea, his host scanned his face.
"How do you know the ninth earl?" Justin asked following the lengthy pause.
"Because we both know him as Silent Thom… at Hogwarts," Dennis stated.
Justin's mouth literally fell open.
"I'm not pulling your leg, Justin. Thomas Lester Jonathan North, Ninth Earl of Nottingham is still with us, and he's trapped at Hogwarts. He was murdered using a very nasty spell and cursed to remain silent about his murder, then sent to Hogwarts as an exile."
"When?" Justin asked.
"Seventeen-sixty-one. September."
"But… the Finch family lost the title in the late fifteen hundreds…"
"And wasn't considered for the seventh creation in sixteen-eighty-five. That went to the North family, who already had a claim with the Earldom of Essex."
"You certainly seemed to know your way around the lower nobility," Justin remarked and tried to sound light.
Dennis took a sip of tea before saying: "Good tea. Thank you, and, no, I don't know much of any lower royalty outside of Nottingham and the one in Essex."
"Yes, Larpin does brew a fine tea. Dennis, why do you think the Finch family is connected to the murder of Silent Thom?" The young man reasonable queried.
"I supposed I'd better tell you the whole story and show the information I collected."
"I'd be grateful."
For half an hour Dennis provided the summary version, and Justin sat in open astonishment. The biscuits went uneaten, and they only sipped the tea. Laid end to end, the evidence looked very convincing if circumstantial. When he finished the summary, Dennis got to ask the most important question of the day.
"So, as you can see, there are two crucial facts I need to find. First, did the Finch family produced any magical children while holding the Nottingham title? Second, is Wyllodrus part of that family branch?" He concluded.
"Laprin! Attend, please!" Justin called out.
Half a minute later the house elf came running into the parlor.
"Master Justin?" The small elf, and Dennis realized it to be female despite looking and sounding male.
"Larpin, could you go and fetch the family album? Please? The official one?"
"Yes, Master Justin," the elf said and bowed.
"Justin, will this have any effect on your family?" Dennis asked since he just thought of it.
"I don't think so. It was over two hundred years ago, and the Finch line didn't regain the title until the twentieth century, so one couldn't begin to presume my distant family murdered its way into the earldom," he answered. "And the Finch-Fletchleys are too far removed from any title inheritance to be effected. Dozens of murders would have to take place, and I hardly think that would go unnoticed for any length of time."
Dennis smirked at Justin's cavalier attitude toward the situation. However, Justin also stated his family's case rather succinctly and dispatched any reasonable suspicion. Several seconds later a slightly winded Larpin the house elf returned carrying an old and very thick book. Dennis recalled seeing a very similar tome in Essex. She struggled to turn it over to Justin. Justin eyed Dennis. Once he got the hint, Dennis cleared off a good portion of the table. Justin laid the book on it. Both young men stood and moved to the same side. Justin opened the book.
"Let's see. The murder took place in seventeen-sixty-one, so the youngest the culprit could be would be… sixteen?" Justin said and glanced Dennis.
"Older I would think. He used a complicated series of spells that would take time to master. I'd say he'd be in his late twenties or early thirties. Try seventeen-thirty or sometime before that," Dennis calculated and suggested.
"Good points all."
The book opened and pages got flipped back to the correct century. Each page contained a small tree blossoming with small caricatures and names under each, but also a table listing the chronological order of births and deaths. It seemed very well designed in Dennis' opinion.
"Spell the first name again?"
Dennis did.
"No, he's not here. Let's look further back," Justin agreeably said.
For five minutes they scanned pages and the attendant table.
"Great Merlin! There he is. Seventeen-aught-nine. June eleventh. Almost a summer baby. Died… Seventeen-seventy-three in November. No day is listed," the current master of the house stated in a bit of astonish. "And he was a wizard. See that symbol there?"
"The small star with the little lines shooting out of it? Doesn't conceal the fact very well," Dennis commented.
Justin turned to him with a puzzled expression and said: "Why would we need to conceal it? This line of the Finch family has always been magical."
"So, Wyllodrus is directly related to you?"
"Only as a many great uncle," Justin said as he continued to examine the table of information. "What do you think that small gray key means?"
"Haven't the foggiest, Justin. Is there a legend somewhere?" Dennis inquired.
Dennis watched as Justin flipped through the pages looking for the legend to decipher the symbol. He found it on the fourth page from the front. He appeared shocked.
"Wyllodrus was incarcerated!" The young man exclaimed about his relation as though it never once happened in his family.
"Does it say where or when?"
They flipped back to the record. Both studiously scanned it. Both came away disappointed.
"Maybe I can confirm where he got sentenced in the Decennial Magus Annales," Dennis muttered.
"The ten-year annual of magical history? Wherever did you find that?" Justin inquired with piqued interest.
Dennis gave him the short version of his research efforts. Justin closed the book, and they returned to tea and biscuits. He appeared engrossed by the subject.
"If you ever go to the annex, bring your broom and a good torch. Lighting is terrible with all that black marble soaking it all up. Just about ruined my eyes," Dennis added for good measure.
"I must say, Dennis, I'm rather impressed by what you achieved in all this," Justin said and bobbed his head. "Quite fascinating, all of it, but who doesn't love a good murder mystery?"
"I think you forget real people are connected to this. Look at what happened to Thomas and his daughter for two hundred and fifty years. This isn't a Wipple and Derge story neatly wrapped up by page one hundred and sixty. This was their lives… and afterlife."
Justin nodded his head and said: "Yes, my apologies and I do take your point. Quite tragic when viewed from their perspective. All the more reason you should be proud of yourself. I'm sure you've brought a great comfort to Silent Thom and his daughter."
"Some, but not enough. I want to find a way to conclusively prove… hang on a minute," Dennis began to say and interrupted himself. "You wouldn't happen to have a picture of some sort of Wyllodrus Finch?"
Justin flipped open the family genealogy tome, searched back through centuries, found the entry, pointed to it, and asked: "You mean like that?"
"How acc…"
"Very. There is a spell to capture the likeness of the person whenever they come within five kilometers of the book. All the magical volumes are interconnected, and we purposefully bring them all together once every twenty-five years. It's like a computer update from what I've heard," the young man interjected and explained. "I would say this is from his forties at the latest, and that means he avoided the family for the last third of his life. I'm beginning to think this Wyllodrus wasn't well liked or received."
"Hmm," Dennis said with a nod. He did not think it appropriate to comment one way or the other. "Can I copy this page? I'd like to show Thomas at least the picture and biographical information."
"Oh, please, you may," Justin assented. "Dennis, if I may be so bold, but would you report back to me on what you discover? I'd like to add it to the family record. While it is all a touch sordid, we do like to keep the family history up to date."
"Justin, you've done me a huge favor, so I'd be a bit of a prat if it didn't say yes. In fact, I'll make copies of all of this, including my notes, and you can pick and choose what you want to include.
"Grand, Dennis. Absolutely grand of you!"
The two spent twenty-five minutes copying information back and forth. Dennis allowed Justin to copy most of the record he compiled if it pertained to Wyllodrus Finch. He explained he would need to get permission of Thomas North, the late Earl of Nottingham, to release other portions. Justin again proved agreeable. When they finished the exchange, they sat at the table. Dennis felt nervous about what he now possessed.
"That's all sorted," Justin said as he refilled the cups with hot tea. "Now, do you have any news from Hogwarts you can share. It surprises me to say I miss the old place."
"Oh, yeah, I've got some news," Dennis stated.
The two sat and discussed the continuing repairs to the castle and grounds, the changes in faculty and staff, developments with students from both their years, and other bits of gossip they heard. Despite the fact Justin Finch-Fletchley carried himself with airs and sounded haughty, it quickly became transparent as they chatted. It seemed more of affectation, ruse, or show instead of a real personality trait. He seemed eager to hear about former schoolmates, and shared a large part of his recent history. Dennis remained a bit more circumspect, although he did divulge he worked in the highly specialized field of magical waste containment and removal. Justin did not seem to judge him, and he pressed Dennis for a few choice stories. He began by telling Justin about meeting the Olivanders. Justin acted the eager audience.
Later that evening Dennis sat in a pub surrounded by Cameron's friends. Try as he might to enjoy himself, the recent revelations about Thomas North, Wyllodrus Finch, and the real means used to terminate Thomas plagued his mind. Jeanie and Mike all but assaulted him for updates on his investigation. Dennis found it a relief to be able to share parts of the story. He inadvertently quoted Shakespeare by calling Thomas' death a murder most foul. Thus, the friends of Cameron managed to pull him into the fold. In spite of himself, Dennis rather enjoyed the evening.
"You seemed kind of down earlier, Love," Cameron whispered to the back of Dennis' head.
Dennis spooned deeply against the young man whose increasing importance to him could not be denied. He hated it when they spent too much time apart. He hated not being able to share the most astounding aspects of his life. He hated that he got so deeply involved in an investigation it altered his mood even when around Cameron. Dennis simply wanted a quiet night with the ebony young man luxuriating in the silent but strong emotions they shared.
"I don't understand people who want to do nothing but spread misery and fear wherever they go," the young wizard sighed and exposed part of what he thought. "The man who killed the Earl of Nottingham did it in way that caused him an incredible amount of pain and fear. Why? How does that even remotely make his life better? How can anyone be proud of that?"
"Awful?"
"Slow suffocation."
"Bloody hell," Cameron mumbled in shock. "Denny, how come the records don't show that at the Archives?"
"Don't know. Found the official report in an old library over in York. Had to piece it together. I think they didn't want to scare the nobles with the idea some blighter is running around snuffing them," Dennis concocted a plausible explanation.
"Ever think about becoming a constable? You could work your way up to detective. You seem to have a decent hand at this?" The man at his back, lovingly holding him, suggested.
"I'd be a shite constable, Cam. First time I nicked a criminal they'd just have to say 'I forgot it was against the law to beat and rob people, but now I know better and I swear I won't ever do it again,' and I'd probably let 'em off the bloody hook."
Cameron snickered at his answer. Dennis pulled the arm tighter around his chest. He felt knowing about the opprimo anima curse put him in jeopardy. He planned on asking Professor Flitwick to remove the memory of it from his head as soon as he could. However, Dennis knew full well his friend and mentor might reject the idea. Dennis could scarcely accept the fact witches and wizards actively sought spells of that type. It sickened him.
"Denny? You've gone stiff as a length of pipe. Are you feeling okay?" Cameron inquired.
"Is the world safe, Cam? Remember those blokes who tried to charge us a toll for walking down the street?" Dennis replied with a question.
"And you gave them a right good thumping. They deserved it, Denny, so don't get down on yourself thinking you did something wrong!"
"No, it's not that. I just can't figure out why they wanted to muck about with us in the first place? And it wasn't just about the money. They knew we was gay, Cam, and that was part of it. They thought we were weak," he asked and almost answered his own questions.
"Are you scared now being on the streets at night?" The gentle young man asked.
"No. I can handle myself. I think I'm just angry," he rejoined. "I'm angry 'cause they think they have a right to do that when they don't. I'm angry it's such a waste of time and energy. I'm angry 'cause it scares others. It doesn't do anything for life. So, what's the point of it?"
"The point is it tells me I've got a fine and good man who cares about people, really cares, and thinks about things, and really thinks. It makes me happy to know someone like that exists in my world, and I found him. Even if that's all it will ever mean, I can more than live with that, Denny."
The words soothed Dennis on a very deep and personal level. He bowed his head down and kissed Cameron's arm. Cameron squeezed him, and the world felt a little safer if even for just a fleeting moment.
"I'm too young to say this… and it's too soon to say this, but I'm pretty much in love with you, Cam," Dennis said. It brought him both apprehension and comfort to say it.
"I know you are, Denny. Don't you know I feel the same way?" Cameron murmured. "From the first night I met you I kept wanting you to love me. Never known a bloke like you. I know you've been through a lot, but… it made you better. You're older inside than almost everyone I know. The way you look at the world amazes me. It's like you see it inside out. I've needed someone like you in my life for a long time. Needed, Denny; not wanted."
"You're my first real boyfriend. That scares me. I don't know what to do… or how to behave. That's why I say I'm too young."
"Maybe you are too young, but you've done everything right by me so far. I've heard people say someone young has an old soul, and I'd say 'What are you facking talking about?' But I get it now. I just never met one 'til you."
"You're trying to get me to sleep with you, aren't you?" Denny replied and giggled a little, but not entirely from mirth. His nerves felt strung tight due to the topic. He forced Cameron and himself into new territory without really thinking it over.
"What? The whole 'Let's get naked and crawl into bed' didn't give you a clue?" Cameron played along.
"I was suspicious, but now I think you're up to something with what you got pressed against me bum."
Cameron chuckled and wiggled his body around. Dennis spun around in the embrace of the man. They faced one another in the dimly lit room. Cameron kissed him. Dennis wanted it to last for an hour, but pulled his head back.
"Denny?" Asked the man Dennis felt transformed into his boyfriend.
"Cam, before we get out of control like we're going to, I want you to promise me one thing if you can," he requested.
"Sure, if I can."
"Promise me no matter what else we do… where this goes between us, we're always going to try and be nice to each other first. And I'm not talking about just acting nice, but really meaning it. And if we can't, then that's when we'll talk about what's happening between us. That's what I want you to promise me," Dennis simply let the words roll out of his mouth.
"That's a pretty good promise to ask for. No one ever asked me for one like that. I like it, so, yes, I promise, Dennis Creevey, that I will always try to be nice to you before anything else. I will mean it. If I don't, then I know we need to talk about us," Cameron solemnly stated.
"And I promise to be nice to you, Cameron Vall, to be your friend, and to try every time we're together. I promise that if I can't do it, then we will talk together and find out why. I mean every word of that, Cam."
"I know you do, Love."
As per their want, they kissed. The kiss turned feral. The two young men frittered away the dark hours finding comfort in and with one another. Through it all, Dennis' brain kept pondering how he could reveal the truth about himself to the man he loved without creating an enormous breach of the secrecy statute. Once more he came to the conclusion he needed to speak with Hermione Granger. The smartest witch to emerge from Hogwarts must surely know an answer, Dennis thought before his mind got consume by the actions at hand.
The next afternoon, Dennis sat staring at the front section of the Sunday edition of The Guardian. Only half of what he read made sense to him. He got an inkling his transformation into a proper wizard neared completion. However, Dennis forced himself to read the broadsheet. More often than not, events in either side of the life he led would influence the other. His copy of The Daily Prophet sat underneath. The latest outbreak of doxie fever in Scotland and Northern Ireland dominated the magical news. Dennis eventually simply gazed at the newspapers without actually reading them.
"You alright, son?" His father asked from the doorway leading to their small patch of backyard where Dennis sequestered himself under the cloud-filled sky.
"I'm doing okay, Dad," he quietly replied.
Duncan Creevey sat down in the other injection-molded plastic chair. Dennis saw his father staring at him. He kept his eyes on The Guardian while his father queried: "Out with it, Denny. Something's gnawing at you."
Dennis sighed and said: "I've got all these questions, Dad, and no one has answers. The more I try to find answer, I only get more questions. I'm learning things I wished I never knew to be honest."
"You're dead Earl of Nottingham?"
"It's not him in particular. It's what happened to him. I know who did it… I think. I know how he did it, and it's ruddy awful. But I don't know why."
"Welcome to the human race, son. We don't always make sense. Hell, we seldom make sense. So, what is it this time that's got you in a twist?"
"The Hastings hired Wyllodrus Finch in secret in the spring of seventeen-sixty-one. I found a letter from one of their retainers saying they found him in Swansea, and he was willing to do it, but he wanted payment first. Doesn't say they wanted him to murder Thomas, but that's what it meant," Dennis grumbled.
After departing Cameron's flat mid-morning, much to the protestations of the legal resident, Dennis went to another of the Nottingham archives located further north. One of the docents at the Nottinghamshire Archives told him most of the Hastings records could be found there. The docent did not lie. Records from the Hasting's family dating back to the building of their first foundry waited in ample supply. Dennis read about how the North's managed to annex some of their lands, and it caused a cancer in the family for a number years. It seemed to culminate in their learning about and hiring Wyllodrus Finch. One letter he copied referred to the man's extraordinary abilities and gifts. Dennis took that to mean magic. A diary entry stated that, in May of 1761, they finally found an answer to the North issue.
"The North issue. I think they meant to kill Richard as well Thomas," Dennis cryptically told his father. "Neither of them had a son, so the title would either pass out of the North hands or to the Essex branch of the family. It was revenge, Dad, pure and simple. The wanted blood for the land the North's managed to snick out from under them."
"And you can absolutely prove this?" His father questioned.
Dennis looked away.
"It's probably a solid circumstantial case, Denny, but where's the one bit of evidence that says they masterminded this whole bloody affair?"
"Still looking for it."
"Think you'll ever find it?" His father pressed.
"I don't know," Dennis confessed. "It all… I just want a final answer, Dad. I want to be able to look at this man's picture and say he did it, and know he did it. Thomas' reaction when he looks at this will tell me. He'll be the proof Wyllodrus killed him, but we still won't know the why of it."
"Are you ready to accept you may never get that why answered?"
Dennis made a low grumbling sound in the back of his throat. He pulled the Prophet out from under The Guardian. It would not do to let a wizarding paper get mixed in with the recyclable paper. Not only would it contaminate the lot, but it would probably set the recycling center afire.
"Denny, we spend a lot our time without the answers we want. That's the way of it, but you're going to drive yourself 'round the bend trying to make it different. Sometimes you just have to accept you've gone as far as you can and leave it that," Duncan advised his son.
The younger Creevey turned his whole body to face his father. A latent anger at the unfairness of life reemerged. He could not simply let matters sit. Someone got away with something horrible, and that needed to be exposed. Acceptance and silence seemed to guarantee terrible events would continue to be the norm if people did not stand up and demand answers and the truth.
"Why, Dad? Why do we have to accept that? Why do we let so much stuff go unanswered? That doesn't do anyone any good!" He railed. "Who does it actually serve? Right now no one knows the Hickings paid a wizard to assassinate the ninth Earl of Nottingham. Thomas'll never get justice. How is that fair? And don't give me that shite about life not being fair. That's how criminals get away with what they do!"
Duncan blinked at his son. Dennis sat and waited for his father to respond. Fury at the unnecessary indignities of life filled the young man. He could feel his magical powers tingling in his fingers and all the way up to his shoulders. The lamp attached to the side of the house began to flicker in response. Both Creevey's looked at it. Dennis did not calm down.
"Colin died because people refused to believe Voldemort would do what he did even when he was doing it. They didn't stand up to him when they had the chance to stop him," Dennis railed at a long simmering topic. "Magic didn't kill Colin, Dad: people did. Voldemort's people killed him. Magic can't do anything unless someone tells it what to do. That curse couldn't kill Thomas without Wyllodrus Finch… and you want me to just sit here and accept it?"
"And what can we do about? Huh? There wasn't a thing your mother or I… even you could do to stop them from killing your brother!" His father yelled.
"See? That's how the win! They let us fight each other, blame each other, accept defeat while they go on doing whatever the hell they want. It takes all of us, Dad, doesn't matter who can use magic, but it takes all of us to do something," Dennis yelled right back. "It's when we sit on our arses saying nothing can be done or… or… or we couldn't do anything 'bout it that makes us weak. We get so fucking comfortable and complacent that we don't want to see trouble is coming our way!"
"Then what do we do?"
"We fight! That's what Colin did. He fought, Dad. He fought to stop that bastard from hurting any more people," and Dennis calmed when a truth clicked in his mind. "Colin fought and died for something he loved. He loved magic, Dad. I love magic… and I hate it when anyone does something deliberately wrong with it. I want to stop them. Yeah, it'll probably get me killed one day, but at least I'm not just going to sit around and be bitter and say nothing can be done. I will do something about it!"
It nearly stopped Dennis in mid-tirade when he saw a look of shame settle on his father's face. Duncan lowered his eyes, then he lowered his face. His son watched as tears tumbled down the cheeks. It tugged at Dennis' heart, but it did not change the central facts of any issue currently facing him.
"Dad, what?" He quietly implored.
"I feel… so helpless, Denny. Like there's nothing I can do to protect you," his father said in a gruff voice. "You live in this world we I don't have any power… not like you've got. And what I can I do. I couldn't save Colin… and I can't save you."
His father cried. At long last Dennis heard the grief he knew his father harbored, and he also heard what made it so bitter for the man. He felt powerless against seeming overwhelming forces, and Dennis understood that. He got up and went to his father. Dennis circled his arms around the brawny shoulders he knew he would never grow, and held him. Sorrow poured from his father in a great torrent. His father's strong arms circled Dennis' skinny waist, and he tightly hugged his son.
"Couldn't… save him," the man sobbed. "Failed… his fa… ther failed."
"No, Dad. You didn't fail Colin. Where do you think he got the courage to stand up to Voldemort?" Dennis said in as soothing voice as he could command. "Where do you think Colin and me got the nerve to got to Hogwarts? You and Mum made us brave… made us unafraid. Don't ever think you failed, Dad. You raised hero in Colin."
Garbled words came out of his father. Tears slid down Dennis' cheeks as well. Time and again he thought himself a failure at Hogwarts, but Professor Flitwick, his too few friends, and even Peeves convinced him otherwise. It did not take much imagination to realize his father, and his mother, lacked anyone who could help them through their hardships. The secrecy laws isolated them as well. They suffered alone with one another while their living son learned how to endure, and in some small way he came to nascent if fragile terms with his brother's death. Dennis knew he needed to share an important item with his parents. An artifact of their family history needed to be revealed.
"Dad?" He quietly said the name while trying to unlatch his father's arms. "Dad!"
Duncan looked up at him with puffy eyes and a blotchy face.
"I have to go get something I should've showed you ages ago."
"Denny?" The man croaked.
"Just give me a second."
Duncan released his son. Dennis went to the door and trotted through the house. His mother's concentration on some television program did not get broken. The young wizard raced to his room. He knelt in front of his dresser and pulled open the bottom drawer containing clothes he rarely wore. His hand fished around in the back left corner. His finger grazed Colin's wand and sparked at the contact. Dennis ignored it. Finally, he found an envelope. With it clutched in his hand, he returned to the backyard. His father looked up at him.
"Read this," Dennis said and gave him the envelope. He then returned to the chair he originally occupied and sat down.
His father lifted the flap and pulled out a somewhat worn piece of parchment. He unfolded it. Even from where he sat Dennis would recognize his brother's spidery penmanship anywhere. In his mind, he recited the words he memorized with weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts.
"Dennis -
You're going to be mad at me, but don't be. I have to go. I can't let Hogwarts fall. We can't let LV win, so I'm doing this for both of us. It's magic and we need it. You've got to stay with Mum and Dad. You've got to keep them safe. You're a better wizard than me, and you can protect them if it doesn't go right. I know you can.
Please don't be mad, Dennis. You're my brother, but you're also my best mate in the whole world. I can't let anything happen to you. Ever. Mum and Dad would be wrecked if anything did. You can yell at me when I get back. Call me a twit or a prat or a faery fart. Just keep them alive for us. I need you to do this.
I love you, Brother.
- Colin"
It seemed to take forever for his father to read the last message Colin ever wrote. Dennis suspected his father read it several times. The man cast a glance at him. Dennis felt his nerves pull tight.
"I know why you didn't show us this, Denny. I wouldn't've shown it to me, either. Not right away," Duncan told his youngest son in a controlled manner. "Can I ask you something?"
Dennis nodded.
"Would you have gone after him?"
Dennis nodded again.
"Did this note keep you home?"
"Yeah, Dad, it did," the young man stated. "I knew he'd been working on some new magic. Colin taught himself to apparate. I found the study notes in his chest… when we cleaned out his room. I didn't know how to do it. Would've taken me days to get to Hogwarts, but I knew he wanted me to watch out for you and Mum. So, I stayed."
"Was it difficult staying here knowing what was happening at school?" His father gruffly inquired.
Dennis shifted around in his chair. He thought the truth might hurt his father even more, yet a lie might hurt him worse. It took a few seconds, but he decided to faithfully answer. His nerves hummed, and he coughed to hide a small, nervous laugh. Then Dennis faced his father.
"Hardest thing I've ever done," he admitted. "Don't get me wrong. I love you and Mum so much. I thought you'd be safe even if the war did happen at Hogwarts. Colin… he wasn't so sure. He thought Voldemort wanted to take over everything. Thought that bleeding bastard would ruin magic. He was right. I knew it when I read that note. I stayed for you and Mum, Dad, and for Colin."
"I'm glad you stayed, son. Colin was right… I don't think your mother or I would've survived losing both of you," Duncan told the young man, the wizard, sitting across from. "I don't know if I can ever stop being angry at him, Dennis. I miss him so much it kills me a little bit every day. I miss watching you and him discover this incredible gift that got handed to you."
The man paused and wiped his cheeks. He also snuffled back against his sinuses. However, he never broke eye contact with his son.
"And I hate what his death did to you, son. I know a part of you died with him. I didn't know how to make it better. All that life in you went cold without him. It hurt... still hurts so much to look at you and see the missing joy for your life. I didn't know how to help you, and I failed you as well."
Dennis felt his eyes overflow again.
"Then, when we found out you're gay… Colin could've explained it to us. You know that, too. It was like every time we looked at you you turned into a different person. I blamed magic. I blamed the school. I think I was wrong, and… it was another failure on my part," the man quietly told him.
"Dad, you didn't fail," Dennis croaked the words.
"I don't know where you got it from, maybe your mother, but I've seen you change these last couple of months. It took seeing you with Cam to understand you can be happy again… I just needed to get out of the way."
"How many times do I have to tell you you're not in the way?" Dennis half-blubbered.
"But what surprised me the most is how far you're willing to go to help this Thomas North. It's become personal to you, and maybe it had to," his father said and sat up straight in his chair. "After all you went through at school, you put it aside to help this man. That's courage, Dennis. That's real character. I could never figure out what kind of man you'd turn out to be, but… I like what I see. You're a good man, son."
Dennis smiled as water raced down his face.
"I know it's never going to be like it was before. It can't be. That's hard for me to accept, but I'm trying to change, too. It won't be perfect. It won't be easy, but… Colin was right again. It'd wreck your mum and me if we lost you. I can't let that happen."
"You're doing real good, Dad. I don't want to lose you, either. I'm always going to need my dad," he replied and held his hand out over the table.
His father took it. Dennis closed his eyes and concentrated. He wanted his father to feel at least once the unusual euphoria to be found in magic. In his mind he recalled the day he got the letter saying he would go to Hogwarts. He would be with his brother again, and they would experience the adventure of a lifetime together. Joy coursed through as he held his father's hand.
"Expecto patronum," he whispered.
Silver light erupted from his palm. The powerful spell remained caught between the two hands, but the effect could not be diminished. Dennis began to laugh. He laughed because no matter how old he got, no matter what dangers he would confront, nothing could tarnish the love he felt for his family. Somewhere in the distance Dennis thought he heard Colin laugh.
"Good god," his father chortled. "Dennis, this is… what is this?"
"It's magic, Dad. My magic, and it makes me happy. I love magic, too. Almost as much as I love you and Mum," Dennis answered.
"Son, is this what it feels like for you all time?"
"No. This spell… Harry taught us it's pure joy. It's everything we love about life. This is what it's like when I think about you, Mum, and Colin. This is one of the most powerful spells a witch or a wizard can cast," he said and still felt as though he did not explain it right. "Know them Star Wars movies you love so much?"
His father nodded.
"Well, this is what the force would feel like. This is my life force your feeling."
A small, strange smile took shape on his father's face. It curled the edges of his mouth in a way Dennis forgot could happen. Duncan Creevey grinned like a child as he held onto his son's hand as the magic poured out of him. Dennis felt connected to his father in an intensely new way. He at last got to share the essence of what magic meant to him. It heightened the spell, and the light became brighter.
"This is… beautiful," Duncan said while gazing at his son and smiling.