No one in the Creevey house thought it would be a miraculous overnight transformation, but they all appreciated a new start. Pain of the magnitude they experienced individually and together simply did not vanish like magic. Yet acceptance and understanding could be just as powerful as a spell. Dennis shared Colin's last note with his mother later in the evening, and he also repeated the expecto patronum spell with her. She seemed as rapturous as his father afterward. It acted as an invitation to understand a tiny fraction of their son's other world. By the end of that evening, it seemed as though the Creevey family would not disintegrate from wounds kept hidden for too long.
Dennis walked along the main road to the Hogwarts' castle. He apparated just outside the gate, presented his wand, and entered. Worry nagged him since his discussion with Justin Finch-Fletchley the previous Saturday and the new information he uncovered. Too many disturbing questions got raised and, as he railed at his father, no answers seemed forthcoming. However, he hoped they would get one definitive answer that morning. Dressed in his standard style of cargo shorts and tee-shirt against what promised to be an oppressively warm day, he marched forward and his backpack thumped against his shoulder. August would arrive the next day, and Dennis wanted the month to start on new footing.
"Thomas? Lucia?" He called out as he walked out on the promontory under a gray sky. Dennis could see them, but he did not want to startle them.
"Good morning, Mister Creevey," Thomas hailed him.
"Good morning, Dennis," Lucia replied.
They stood staring out over the loch as normal bedecked in clothing they wore for nearly two and a half centuries.
"Yes, I hope it will be a good morning," he answered and let his backpack slide from his shoulder to his hand.
Thomas finished turning to face him. The translucent face regarded Dennis with what amounted to ghostly interest. Lucia gazed at him.
"I suspect you bring us news," the late Earl of Nottingham noted.
"More than that, Thomas. I think I've brought you the face of your killer."
The almost fearful expectation that settled on the two spectral visages set the appropriate tone. Dennis dug out his now overstuffed notebook. He brought all his research for a different purpose, but needed to find the enlarged copy of Wyllodrus Finch's portrait. He curled it, so as to keep the picture concealed for a few more seconds.
"I tried to find out what showing you this will do to you, Thomas, but the books hardly ever talk about what happens after a curse is lifted," he explained. "So, if this is really him, we're going to learn a lot more than who killed you."
"It's a fair warning, Dennis, and I thank you," the man said and inclined his head.
"Um, Lucia, I'm thinking maybe you need to step back a little," Dennis suggested.
"Oh, yes. Of course," Mrs. Hughes replied and floated backward away from her father.
The living wizard stepped up to the expired one. Little less than a meter separated them. The end Dennis' wand stuck out from his right pant pocket. He unfurled the page between his hands. The he looked at Thomas.
"Ready, your lordship?" He asked.
Thomas' face momentarily cracked into a smile before he replied: "Let us be done with this once and for all time."
Dennis quickly held up the copy of the picture, and then tilted his head so he could see around it. For weeks he read about curses whenever he visited the library at Hogwarts or the Ministry trying to find a way to lift them. He knew the silencing curse would be destroyed if Thomas saw the face of his murderer since the spell got designed to hide that information.
Thomas stared wide-eyed at the image. He let out a series of shorts gasps. One hand went to his mouth while the other pressed against his stomach. The man leaned forward as if his knees would buckle. Horror and pain consumed his visage.
"Dear Lord!" Thomas coughed out the words. Then he sucked in a huge lungful of air into lungs that no longer needed it. "Dear God, that is the man! I knew him as William Fineal!"
Thomas breathed as though he ran a marathon or surfaced after being submerged too long under the water. He never blinked, and his eyes remained fixed on the picture. The panic and terror ebbed from the man's features. In its place a visceral anger, almost hatred, resided. Dennis could not blame his friend for the reaction.
"Damn him," Thomas whispered.
"Wyllodrus Finch died in prison in seventeen-seventy-three. He got caught in a plot to assassinate your brother, Richard. One of the Hickings ratted him out. I think they liked and respected Richard," Dennis stated what he learned after making a second visit to the Ministry library annex in York. "His powers got bound so he couldn't escape. Wyllodrus died a convicted criminal, basically a muggle, in prison. There was some justice for your family, Thomas."
"Dennis, I never heard any of this," Lucia said in a worried tone.
"Do you remember if your uncle went to Birmingham in that year? Finch was tried and imprisoned there," Dennis inquired.
"No, I did not. I was married to Geoffrey by that time and residing on his estate at Nether Hall. I already gave him three children by seventeen-seventy-three," the woman rejoined.
"And I already know the Hastings did not get implicated in the plot since they married into the title," Thomas said in an aggrieved manner.
"Sukey Hastings claimed she overheard the men plotting at one of their foundries, but… it's pretty clear she was lying. She never changed her story, though, and Finch's conviction rested on her testimony. I couldn't find anything more on why she turned against Finch. He might've threatened her family for all we know," Dennis commented.
"Very plausible," the dean man agreed.
"Thomas, how do you feel right now?"
"Still very much not living," he replied and then smirked. "No, there is a weight lifted from me. Whatever constraints the curse placed on my mind and tongue no longer hold. If you wish, I can explain how he murdered me."
"Not today. Maybe in the next few days when you've had time to time to adjust. Thomas, I just want you to be free from this for at least one day without having to worry 'bout anything else. You've more than earned it," Dennis said.
"Your kindness knows no bounds, Mister Creevey," Thomas said and sounded touched. "If I may, I would like to call upon your services one last time."
"Oh, this isn't over, Thomas. We've got to make sure whatever spell binding you here gets banished. I think I'll be spending a lot of time in libraries again looking for the counter-spell."
"You do realize I am now able to tell you what he recited?"
"That'll help, but it's a lot more complicated from what I've read. I might need to get Professor Flitwick to help. This is going to take some serious spellcasting," Dennis countered.
Thomas smiled at him and said: "Then I am very good hands and shall simply count the days until the task is completed. I am of the mind I will not need to count for too long."
Dennis shrugged.
"Now, if you would be so good as to fetch your parchment and a quill, there is a small matter I would like you to attend for me when your time permits," the man requested.
The younger wizard went to his backpack and grabbed the necessary items. He sat on the ground, cross-legged, and with his pen hand hovering over a blank page in his notebook. He waited on the Earl.
"Tell me, Dennis, have you taken it upon yourself to make a visit to Wollacott Hall?"
"No. Thought about it just to see where you lived, but they charge twenty Euros for a tour. I was a bit chuffed about that when I found out," Dennis informed his friend.
"Then may I impose upon you to bear the sum?" Thomas asked, but did not wait for an answer. The he walked over and stood behind Dennis. "Now, you will need to draft a map, so please pay attention to what I tell you."
For over an hour Thomas directed Dennis in fashioning a floorplan of the main floor of Wollacott Hall. Although not a very good artist by any stretch of the imagination, Dennis managed to produce a fair rendering under the watchful eye of the Earl of Nottingham who describe the manor as if he just visited it the day before. The floorplan that emerged intrigued the younger wizard. He noted the West Dining Room as instructed and the location of the secret room.
"Now, do you understand why that room likely remains undiscovered to this day?" Thomas asked.
"Father? When did you have this built?" Lucia inquired who stood behind the other shoulder of Dennis.
"A good twelve years before you were born, my dear. When my magic began to reveal itself, your grandmother begged your grandfather to build the room so I would have a safe domain where I could learn the craft. Father could never deny mother," Thomas told his daughter in a soft voice.
"Grandfather was a good and gentle man," the woman rejoined. "I remember well how he mourned Grandmother's passing. He seemed lonely all the rest of his days."
"I believe he was. He loved her dearly."
Dennis felt like an interloper as the father and daughter reminisced about past family members.
"And, Dennis," Thomas returned to him following several seconds of silence. "Whatever remains in that room I bequeath to you for the services you so faithfully rendered to me. Since I think none have entered since last I paid visit to that room, I am hoping what few small trinkets you find will serve as but a poor thanks for all you accomplished on my behalf."
"Thomas, you don't have to…"
"And neither did you, but you did, Dennis" the man interjected. "Today I stand free of the wretched curse that stilled my tongue and gave paralysis to my form. I have learned some measure of justice got meted out to the man who slew me. Most of all, you returned a daughter I thought lost to me forever. Were I to give you all I once possessed, it would not suffice to express the gladness and thanks in my heart that I hold for you."
"You're my friend," Dennis tried to accept the compliment as best he could.
"Truer to me than most I ever knew in life. In truth, Dennis, had fortune graced me so, I would hope for son exactly as you are. Though I know tribulations came to you and your parents, I cannot help but think of the pride that swells in their chests when they look upon you. You are a fine example of what a wizard… a man… a person should be."
"You're embarrassing me, Thomas," the young man mumbled.
"Then I am glad for it, and hope in time I can afford you such similar embarrassments as to roast the ears from your head!" Thomas exclaimed.
"Father!" Lucia laughed.
Dennis grinned. He admired and liked Thomas. He liked Lucia. He counted both as friends. They talked for a short while until Dennis excused himself from their company. He explained he needed to talk to others about removing the last curse from Thomas. Although they seemed loathe to let him quit the merry little scene they created, they let Dennis depart with more thanks struggling to get into his ears. He created a plan in his head for the day, and he moved onto the next piece of business, and he planned on returning to Hogwarts later in the afternoon.
"Dennis!" Hermione exclaimed when he tapped on and then walked through her office door. "How good to see you!"
"You, too, Miss Granger," he replied.
"Oh, please. It's just Hermione."
He smirked at her.
"So, what brings you to see me today?" She asked.
"Fulfilling a promise I made to you," Dennis answered and held aloft his notebook. "I've got one hell of a story to tell you."
"Is this about Silent Thom?" The junior Ministry official eagerly inquired.
"Oh, yeah. This is all about the life, murder, and afterlife of the ninth Earl of Nottingham, Lord Thomas Lester Jonathan North."
Hermione jumped up from her chair where she sat behind a desk stacked high with folders and sheaves of paper. She ran to the door, closed it, and flipped around a do-not-disturb sign. Then brilliant witch trotted back to Dennis and ushered him to a chair. She forced him to sit, and then sat in the one next to it.
"You did say murder?" She breathlessly inquired.
"I've got all the evidence here… and you should send someone out to interview Thomas to get all facts 'cause you're not going to believe half of it," he said to her.
With that introduction, Dennis began to tell his former schoolmate the story as he uncovered it. He flipped though the pages of his notebook, showed Hermione copies of the documents he created and where she could find them. About five minutes into his narrative, the young woman stopped him.
"We need to record this," she emphatically stated.
Hermione rose from her chair and went to the door. The heels of her shoes clacked on the floor. After she cracked open the door, she glanced about.
"Conrad!" She barked. "Get a transcribing spell, a big notebook, and get in here… and bring us a tea service! Please and thank you!"
When she returned to her seat, Hermione asked: "Dennis, do mind if we make this an official Ministry report? I think it's that important."
"Seriously?" Dennis nearly burped the word.
"Dennis, you revealed the murder of an eighteenth century noble committed by a wizard. So, of course this is important. Isn't it always better when truth wins out over rumor and myth and legend?"
"I suppose it is."
They regarded one another for a moment in silent agreement.
"Ooh, I wish Harry wasn't in the field today. He would so love to hear this. He sounded absolutely fascinated when I told him I ran into you and what you're working on. Harry told me to give you his best and that he's pleased you're doing well," she told him in a rush.
Dennis gaped at her. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.
"You know, he's better now that we've got some years behind us after the war. Nobody really cares much about The Boy Who Lived anymore. Not that he's still not famous, but… Harry's got more of his own life now."
"Well, tell him I said hello and I owe him a pint for… back then. Not for killing Voldemort. That was important, but for how nice he was to me afterward," Dennis rejoined.
"It'll make him happy to know someone remembers for something personal like that."
They got into a small chat about the developments in the lives of her, Ron, and Harry. Dennis heard about the elaborate plans Mrs. Weasley made for the marriages of her daughter and son. It did not surprise him when Hermione said both she and Ginny wanted small, intimate gatherings of the important people in their lives. She also said she feared The Daily Prophet would try to turn the ceremonies into a front page events. When her assistant, Conrad, returned with tea and other needed items, Hermione transformed back into her Ministry persona. She became very businesslike and focused on the central issue. For the next two hours, she directed a rather intensive interview of Dennis while making copies of the associated notes and papers. His brain felt stretched thin by the time he stumbled out of Hermione's office.
Fifteen minutes later he found Professor Flitwick occupied in his classroom. Dennis let his footfalls announce his arrival. When he knocked on the door, the tiny man waved for him to enter.
"And what news do you bring me today, Dennis?" Professor Flitwick asked while inviting him to take a seat at a desk closest to his.
"Just that we solved Thomas' murder, Professor," Dennis began.
For a second time, he recounted the story of the killing of the Earl of Nottingham. After the grilling he received from Hermione, Dennis managed to whittle the story down to a bare-bones version. Professor Flitwick sat in rapt attention throughout the telling.
"That is quite a tale. Ever think you should write a book about it?" The man asked.
"No, and I don't want to. Wipple and Derge's name kept popping up, and I don't want this to be like one of their cheap novels. I've got too much respect for Thomas and his daughter to put them through that," Dennis said and rejected the idea. "Besides, the official Ministry report will be enough. People can read it there if they're so interested."
"You're respect for other's privacy is commendable," his mentor complimented him. "And I don't think Headmistress McGonagall would be happy with hordes of people trying to sneak into Hogwarts to get a peak at Lord North and Lady Hughes. Perhaps not writing a story about this is for the best."
"Totally, but that's only a third of the reason why I came to talk to you."
"Go on!"
"First, I think I'm going to need help dispelling the curse binding Thomas to Hogwarts. I've read it can be tricky and dangerous for the living. Can't imagine what it'd be like for a ghost," Dennis explained.
"Closer to an exorcism, I would think," Professor Flitwick quipped, "and that could go horribly wrong. How much research have you done?"
"Well, I just got the details of what Finch did today, so I've got to do some more."
"And here you thought you might be done with books, eh, Mister Creevey?" His friend lightly teased him.
"Funny, you know. I think I might be learning more outside of school than I did in," Dennis confessed.
"As Dumbledore liked to say: a truly curios mind never stops learning. And despite how you make yourself sound at times, I think you have one of those minds, Dennis. You did a stellar job sorting out Silent Thom's past. You showed persistence and determination, both fine qualities of scholar."
"I'm no scholar, Professor, and a few people really helped. But… in a weird and frustrating way, I really enjoyed doing this. Mostly 'cause it helped someone who really needed it. Who deserved it."
The small man smiled at him in a knowing manner.
"Great Merlin, not you, too. Thomas, Lucia, and Hermione all looked at me like that today. Stop puffing up my head!" Dennis quailed.
"Your modesty notwithstanding, Dennis, you should be proud of yourself. Your motives were pure, and that may be what saw you through this to the end. Because you didn't do this for your own benefit, perhaps out of your sense of friendship, it allowed you to view this in a clean light. Think on that for a while," Professor Flitwick half-praised and half-admonished him.
"Not likely. My brain's a bit full right now. That brings me to the third part… and I need you to think about what I'm going to say before you reject the idea," Dennis somewhat demanded.
"Very well. Tell me."
Dennis explained to the professor what he learned about the spell that killed Thomas, without revealing the name of it, and how he wanted that knowledge permanently erased from his mind. The younger man stated the horribleness of it plagued him.
"I'm not saying no, Dennis, until I get more details, but do you understand how very dangerous this could be? What you want requires a very deft hand. Done wrong, it could wipe out your mind. If it comes down to it, I won't have any part in turning you into a mindless shell of a body," the professor said in a grim tone.
"Professor, I do understand it's dangerous, but what I leaned is even more dangerous. It's a type of killing curse meant to cause pain… horrible pain before it kills. I don't even want the name of it in my head. Don't ask me to tell you what it is right now 'cause I won't!"
In the cathedral-like room his voice echoed off the walls and upper rafters. Dennis heard his own strident tone. The opprima anima curse terrified him in ways he barely understood. It seemed so reprehensibly evil that just knowing the name felt like it corroded his mind.
"You truly don't like this spell, do you?" Professor Flitwick asked in a sympathetic manner.
"It's like someone gave me a primed wand, and I'm waiting for it to explode and kill everyone in sight," he answered. "Sir, this spell really needs to be added to the Unforgivable list. Personally, I say it worse than avada."
Professor Flitwick did not respond for nearly a minute before he said: "I wonder if they didn't leave off the list on purpose. Dennis, can you give me one hint as something about it."
"It squeezes the life out a person. They suffocate for a while before they die. Thomas said… and you can see it on his face, he said it was the most horrible thing he ever experience or could even imagine going through. The worst part: Thomas couldn't talk, so he couldn't cast a bleeding counter spell."
The small professor appeared appropriately horrified by the description. Dennis watched his mentor think, just as it he did throughout most of his academic career. He then decided to add one final, personal detail.
"Professor?" Dennis use the word to get the man's attention. His friend looked at him. "Peeves said if he heard I even thought about using this spell, he would count me as his enemy forever. He told me to forget I ever discovered its name."
"And he did make some bad joke of it?" Professor Flitwick inquired.
"No. He sounded angry. Then he disappeared right after he told me that. This is no joke to him. Peeves said he saw what it does to people… and I think it scared him."
The teacher began to drum his fingers against the top of his desk as he lapsed back into silence. He gazed at a point far away. His breathing became shallow as he slipped deeper into thought. Very gradually Profess Flitwick's prodigious eyebrows drew together. Dennis patiently waited.
"What exactly do you want done, Dennis?" His mentor questioned him.
"I want the name removed from my mind. I want to remember what it does, but I don't want any other… solid details about it left behind. Right now I don't know how it's cast, I don't know the wand movements, but if I ever let the name slip somebody will be able to track it down," Dennis sated his desire.
"That is very precise, and I'm not sure it can be done without taking some of the surrounding memories with it. You may not be able to remember the details of how you solved this case."
"Except I already told the story to Hermione Granger at the Ministry, and she – okay, her assistant – wrote down every word I said. She also made copies of my research notes and files. The name of the spell isn't in any of that, and never said it aloud. If I ever need to remember what I did, I can just read the report."
"You put a lot of thought into this, Dennis, so it behooves me to follow suit. I need time, however. Don't expect me to reach a quick conclusion," the brilliant wizard solemnly stated. "I will also talk to Lord North and his daughter. That will also give me the opportunity to hear what he has to say about the location binding spell. Are we agreed?"
"Yes, sir… and thank you, Professor."
"If you were anyone else, I'd say no straight off. I know you too well, Dennis, to simply dismiss your worries when you voice them. You kept too much inside of yourself at times, and I fear you've made a bad habit of it. Find people you can trust, and then trust them."
"I'm trying, Professor. I think I made a good start with you, Thomas, and Peeves," Dennis rejoined.
"How about people your own age?" Professor Flitwick in a slightly sarcastic manner.
"Well, there is Cam and his friends. I get on well with them. We have good times."
"And wizard friends?"
Dennis both balked and flinched.
"I understand your… distaste for the witches and wizards you attended school with, but there are more than just them. There're cafes you could visit in Diagon Alley. I hear there is a robust night life over at Mobius Street. Cardiff has some wonderful communities more in line with your orientation. It's there, Dennis, if you just look," his mentor once more schooled him.
"I know, Professor," Dennis meekly said.
"By Barnaby, my lad: you sussed out a two-hundred and fifty year murder! Apply some of that intuitiveness to your own life. You might surprise yourself by having some fun with people very much like you. You simply need to put a little effort into it."
Dennis nodded his head, but said nothing.
"You are nothing if not headstrong, Mister Creevey. I think you spent too much time with Peeves," the professor informed in a clearly mock rueful manner.
"You might be spot on there," he replied through a smirk.
"And you never did tell me how the weekend Cam spent with you went."
From there they discussed portions of Dennis' personal life he would not otherwise discuss with most others he knew. The professor found it interesting Dennis managed to circulate in muggles circles with such ease until Dennis reminded him of his initial upbringing. It also required a reminder he lived with two muggles: his parents.
"That is true, and I hadn't forgot. Usually by this age most muggle-born witches and wizards begin to associate more with the magical community. Their identity begins to coalesce around their magical abilities. It is unfortunate to say that by their early thirties, people of your origin retain only a sparse relationship with their muggle relatives. I think maybe I should commend you for remaining close to your parents," Professor Flitwick said in his lecturing voice.
"That's only just started coming true," Dennis cautiously stated.
It led to another very personal discussion about the recent developments with his parents. Dennis recited the content of Colin's final letter, and his friend's eyes went wide behind his glasses. Unlike every other time he talked about his late brother, Dennis did not feel crushing sadness that would drive him to tears. He felt sadness, experienced grief and sorrow, but managed to keep his emotions more or less in check.
"I misjudged something about you, my boy. Your sense of attachment and loyalty are exceedingly strong. Is Colin's letter still compelling you to stay with your parents?" The professor smartly queried.
"No, not much if at all. Now, I'm more driven by wanting to be a family with them again. We've mourned Colin for so long I think we got stuck," he quietly responded. "I don't think they ever understood why he came back here. Why he fought in the battle. Why he would die for all this. When I shared my patronus with them…"
"They are so purely magical."
"Um, I think you need to hear what I did."
Five minutes later, his friend and mentor gaped at him.
"What? Did I break a law or something?" Dennis asked and glanced around in case aurors suddenly appeared.
"That is a brilliant tactic, Dennis. I'm stunned you were able to call it up without your wand. That shows a high level of mental control. I cannot imagine what experiencing your magic meant to them. Absolutely brilliant," the man heaped more praise on him.
"Thanks," he said and accepted it. "It helped them understand a little bit. My dad hates magic, but maybe not as much as he used to. I think he's starting to figure out that by hating magic he hates a big part of me."
"It's hard not to either fear or be jealous of us if you're a muggle. So much of the strife between us stems for those two reactions."
"Unless it's someone like Wyllodrus Finch. I guess revenge is the same for all of us."
Professor Flitwick raised his eyebrows while slowly nodding his head.
Later that evening Dennis called Cameron to find out his plans for the weekend. Cameron told him the rare workday on a weekend came up. The man he to whom he apprenticed got asked if he could help finish a renovation when the original plumber could not live up to his promises. Cameron said that although it did not obligate him, he did not want to disappoint his boss and it would give him more hours of on-site work. As he neared the end of his third year as an apprentice, Cameron never missed an opportunity to get accredited work training.
"Well, while you're of being a proper member of society, I'm going to take the scally route…
Cameron snickered at the use of the word. The slight crackle, hiss, and pop his magic caused on the landline phone did not bother either of them. Unless Dennis got excited about something, it became tolerable background noise.
"And get in some sight-seeing. What I know about Nottingham is too centered on one family," he told his boyfriend. "I think I need to get out see what's actually there."
"What about when you go out with me and mates?" Cameron asked in a faux hurt tone.
"Just because I can name the best west side pubs doesn't mean I know anything 'bout the city."
"'Cept the important parts!"
They both laughed.
"Does that mean you're coming in on Friday?" The young man on the other end of the call asked.
"Need to get some sleep? I can stay here if you do," Dennis replied.
"Are you being a twat on purpose?"
"Yeah. Pretty much."
They laughed again.
"If I can catch the six train, I'll be there 'round nine. You going to wait for me at your flat or head out?" Dennis inquired.
He sat on the floor next to the hob and leaned against the dishwasher. The sound of the television reached him, but not enough to drown out Cameron's voice or be a distraction. He waited for the complaint.
"If you learned how to take care of a cell phone, then I could text you where we'd be going and you could leg it there," Cameron replied.
"Maybe if you got me a trainer phone…"
Cameron started laughing so hard Dennis could not finish the statement. The wizard sat and smiled. He loved to hear his boyfriend laugh. It made the world seem less unpredictable to him. More than anything, Dennis wanted predictability after all he learned in the past couple of weeks. He did not want to believe people plotted horrible acts against one another despite all the evidence to the contrary.
"You alright, Denny?" Cameron asked when Dennis did not join into the full-throated laughter.
"Can't help stop thinking of what his last few minutes must've been like," Dennis admitted. "Thomas North was just going about his life when this other bloke up and decides to kill him. And knowing some other family paid him to do it… what is wrong with people?"
"You're going to spend your whole life asking that question if you're not careful. People can be petty, stupid, and mean, and it's probably not going to stop any time soon. All we can do is make sure we don't turn out like that."
"That's a good bit of advice."
"Been hanging out with you too much already. Got me thinking all these deep thoughts. Someday I'm going to find out how all this got into your head… and I'm going to have a grand time doing it, too!" Cameron said in such a wholly optimistic manner it made is boyfriend smile.
"I love you, Cam," Dennis heard himself say before he realized his brain plotted against him.
"Love you, too," the voice on the other end of the call softly replied. "So, now that this is investigation is over, what's next?"
"Guess I go back to being trash collector. I think Mister Odpadki's been taking on more jobs 'cause I'm doing okay. Some of the fellows that work for him aren't the sharpest bowling balls in the chandelier."
Cameron chuckled at the mangled analogy.
"I don't know. There was some bits I came across that could use some looking into. Might do that on the side just for fun," Dennis thought aloud as the memory of several ghosts with completely hidden backgrounds came to mind. "I think history could do with a bit of shaking up. Least ways it'll give Professor Binns something new to talk about."
"You're a funny one, Dennis Creevey, what with all this learning you've gotten yourself into. Thought you were tired of school after all the shite they put you through?" His boyfriend gamely challenged.
"'Cept this ain't just putting up with arseholes and waiting for class to end. This is how life happens."
"Makes you depressed sometimes."
"Yeah, but… right now, Cameron Vall, there's a bunch of people finding out their families aren't what they thought they are. That's got to come as a blow to them, but isn't the truth better than some pretty lie?" Dennis responded.
"Lot of people stick with the lie if they think it makes them look better. Look at all those UKIP wankers. The shite they believe is terrible, but they still believe it. Lot of lies there, Denny," Cameron grumbled.
"The world hasn't gone that stupid."
"Oh, sure. It's the new millennia and all!"
"That's just one calendar. You know the Druids think we should be celebrating the year seven-thousand, four-hundred, and thirty-four? Our calendar ain't nothing but bullocks to them!" Dennis said as his brain jumped tracks.
"And there you go with that learning again! Who knows stuff like that, Denny? You're about the only one I ever met. A lot of the guys think you're one right smart tosser," Cameron rejoined.
"They called me a tosser?"
"Well, I added that bit. Sort of rounded out the whole compliment."
Dennis started chuckling
"Joking aside, you are pretty smart. You know a lot of weird stuff, and the way you got into the investigation. You made it sound like you were there and knew what was happening with those people who died so long ago. It was cool listening to what you found out," the voice coming through the phone receiver firmly stated.
"Felt like it at times, 'specially when I started to find out what really happened," Dennis told him. "It's funny, but once I put names to pictures and figured out who was who, it did feel real to me… like I was personally involved."
"I still think you should give becoming a police officer a shot," his boyfriend mumbled.
"You watch too much telly. Me Mum thinks all murders can be solved in an hour or two. She thinks whenever I go out into the country to get some load of garbage I'm going snuff it in one of those villages."
Cameron chortled and said: "Yeah, they do make the small towns look pretty dodgy. Who knew living in West Bridgford could turn someone into a murderous bastard?"
Dennis snickered at the idea living in the southern suburb of Nottingham could change a person.
"Think I'm kidding, eh? Head up to Hucknall and tell me those people there aren't a little loony. Load of inbreeders. Need more gay folk is what they need," Cameron grumbled as though he aged sixty years.
"You trying to get me to move to Hucknall?" Dennis queried.
"What? God, no!" Cameron rejoined in an aghast tone. "Was just making fun, but… no, don't want to live there. It'd be bleeding awful if you're not in love with mining history and knitting."
"Hang on, Cam. There's a story there."
"And a bloody boring one at that. Tell you what, mate: why don't you go have a look-see while you're on your walkabout 'round Nottingham on Saturday," Dennis' boyfriend suggested almost as a threat. "And don't come back begging me for the transit fare, either. You get to waste your own bleeding money on that one!"
Dennis sat on the floor, phone pressed to his head, and a smile cracked his face. He reveled in the fact not a single magical concern got raised. It reminded him of the days before Colin got his letter from Hogwarts. Although they both made small accidental magical events happen, life seemed pleasantly dull. It also explained why both Dennis and his brother became full of the dickens. They needed to invent fun to keep up with their energetic personalities. His smile changed and became more contemplative. Dennis honestly believed Colin would enjoy Cameron just as much.
Twenty minutes later he strolled into the living room and slid onto the loveseat. It put him the furthest away from the television as he could get in the room. The quiz show uWho Wants to be a Millionaire/u blazed on the screen. Chris Tarrant, the presenter, badgered the contestant about the finality of her answer. Dennis periodically caught his father gazing at him.
"I did pay for most of this one," he reminded his father.
"True, but I don't want you blowing up another set the moment you hear something you don't agree with," his father grumbled, but Dennis also saw the smirk.
His parents sat in dual recliners. An end table separated the chairs and gave them a place to lodge their snacks and drinks. The new remote control also resided there. A lamp bearing one of the ugliest shades Dennis ever saw, and that included ones he saw in Hogsmeade, spread a yellow glow through around the area. Dennis' agile mind went to work as he lay on the loveseat staring at the program.
"Oh, Dad! I've got this really neat trick I can show you where I turn the people on the screen purple!"
"Don't you dare, Denny! Keep your wand away from that set!"
"Got you," Dennis snickered.
"Bloody menace having a wizard in the house," and yet Dennis did not hear any real condemnation in the words.
"Cam coming down this weekend?" His mother asked when the commercial break ensued.
"I'm heading up there on Friday. Thomas asked me to go visit his old manor, and I was going to use Saturday to do that. Cam's got a job during the day, so I'd be free to check it out my way," Dennis informed her. "But I am going get him to come down the next weekend."
"Go fishing again?" His father inquired.
"Sure. Cam said he enjoyed it last time. There's something nice about sitting quiet waiting for a fish to bite. It's like the world stands still for a minute," his son wistfully replied.
"Bet that's a little odd for you, huh?"
"A little," Dennis agreed. "Lot of surprises when magic's about."
"You don't say?" His father humorously retorted.