AN: Part 3/? of my Adrian Pucey series. The Real Hogwarts Champion is Adrian Pucey. What happens next?
Part 1: Adrian Pucey and the Triwizard Tournament (complete)
Part 2: Adrian Pucey and the Meddling Ministry (complete)
Part 3: Adrian Pucey and the Dawning Darkness (WIP)
o - o - o - o - o
Adrian spent an entire afternoon rearranging the furniture in his father's home office. Moving the large desk to the other end of the room, pushing the couch to a new position, switching out the drapes in front of the glass window, re-sorting the books on the bookshelves, putting down a different rug on the floor – he did all that and more until the room looked noticeably different to how it had looked like when Mr Pucey used it. Only then, he was able to seat himself on the comfortable armchair behind the desk without feeling like he was invading his father's space.
He could not afford to be wishy-washy any more. The state of the world did not allow it. Because the state of the world was that there was no peace to be had.
Not even a week after the end of the school term, the Death Eaters started moving out into the open. The Ministry of Magic's public acknowledgement of the Dark Lord's return did not deter them. If anything, the recognition seemed to be the very push they needed to pursue their goals in plain sight.
Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, in Diagon Alley, was found ransacked one otherwise uneventful day. A squad of Aurors from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement lingered in the street until the sun set, and when there was still no sign of the proprietor of the ice cream parlour, they boarded up the shop and called it a day.
Further along the street, Garrick Ollivander did not show up at his wand shop one day. He wasn't there the next day either. Nor the day after that. At the end of the week, Ollivander's was assumed to be closed indefinitely.
Of course, no-one said the Death Eaters were behind their disappearances, but it did not need saying. The Ministry, for their part, promptly plastered every wall and window within their reach with their informational pamphlets and convict posters. The pedestrians on the streets gave the pamphlets and posters a wide berth when they walked by any of them, taking especial care not to make eye contact with a sneering Bellatrix Lestrange. And it was only July.
Which was why Adrian was delving through Mr Pucey's books with the utmost intent. He would look more closely at the Charmwork at a later time, but for then he would rely on Mr Pucey's impeccable record-keeping in order to find ways to secure the house and the grounds. No good could come out of delaying the necessary fortifications when there was a war at their doorstep.
Adrian trekked slowly along the perimeter of the Pucey estate. His wand arm remained steady as he continued his careful movements, setting up protective wards around the property with practised precision. After one circuit of set up and another to validate the wards, he plopped himself down on a garden bench, exhaled deeply. The sun was starting to sink below sight in the early evening sky, and the stillness of the air gave no indication of the turmoil in the world. Indeed, there was no way to tell they were at war if he didn't already know it.
He rose up from his seat before he could fall into a false sense of peace, stretched his arms over his head. His main task of the day was yet to be accomplished.
Unlike last summer, when they spent the entire time tip-toeing around each other, Adrian summoned Tiberius into his office after dinner that very night. Madam Pucey's eyes had been darting back and forth between them all week, searching for any sign of a truce, and Adrian found that he could not bear to see the entreaty in her eyes any longer.
Adrian was on his first sip of the wine when two knocks sounded at the open door of the office.
Tiberius hesitated briefly at the threshold to the room, before making his way towards the desk behind which Adrian was seated. "Pipsy said you wanted to see me," he prompted, his eyes darting around the room as he took in the changed décor. Or perhaps he simply couldn't meet Adrian's eyes with his guilt.
"Sit," Adrian gestured at the chair on the other side on the desk. "We have a few things we need to talk about."
Tiberius seated himself stiffly, pressed his lips together.
Adrian poured him a glass of the wine, then returned to his own drink in silence.
Tiberius took a small sip from his glass, then pushed it away, turned his eyes down to his feet. "I know I fucked up, all right?" he said softly. "You don't need to… I know!" he reiterated, firmer.
Adrian swirled the wine in his glass, turned his gaze to the gardens outside the window. He wondered, did Mr Pucey never find him and Tiberius to be a distraction outside his window when he worked? He must have, considering that he often walked out to watch or even join them. And yet, the window remained the focal point of the room. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's enough," he said gently.
Tiberius looked up at him questioningly.
"I didn't call you here to talk about that," Adrian said in answer.
"Oh," he said, didn't look like he believed him.
Adrian shook his head lightly. "At least, not in the way you're thinking."
Tiberius frowned mildly.
"Mother said she talked to you," he said.
He looked down to his hands, grimaced lightly to himself. "Yeah, yeah she did."
"Then, I don't want to dwell on it," he stated. No matter how much he wanted to express his frustration and disappointment at Tiberius's ill-advised flight to the Department of Mysteries. "There are more important things that need our attention." Like the fact that he could not risk the formation of any rifts between them, not then.
Tiberius remained silent for a few moments. "Did she tell you I didn't floo home?" he asked suddenly, looked up at him.
He pursed his lips together, nodded. Augustus wasn't Tiberius's fault; if anything, they ought to have been grateful Augustus found him before someone worse. Adrian did not want to be grateful to Augustus Rookwood.
Tiberius exhaled, nodded, reached for his drink. "What are we talking about then?" he asked, took a sip.
The desk separating them seemed too large.
"Finish your drink," Adrian said. "We'll talk outside."
Tiberius leaned back in his chair, relaxing his posture as he kept pace with Adrian's glass of wine.
They moved to backyard patio afterwards, taking adjacent seats. Only then, Adrian resumed their conversation.
"How is your O.W.L prep coming along?" he asked, deciding to start with the easier part of the conversation.
Tiberius shrugged. "Well enough." he said. "I need to pick up a few books. Divination, especially, since you never took it."
Adrian pressed his lips together. "You're going to sit for every subject you've taken then?"
Tiberius turned to him. "Of course. I'll have one O.W.L more than you."
He raised his eyebrows. "Don't count your owls before they're delivered."
He smiled lightly, enigmatically. "Give me a year."
Adrian leaned back in his chair. "Meanwhile, I'll talk to Madam Bones for you, shall I?" he said.
He sighed. "Do you have to? I'm not really keen on the D.M.L.E."
"If we want a work experience for you at the Ministry, we need to start making enquiries as soon as possible. It's the only way to get you through the door after your O. . The best of them, Madam Bones included, have waiting lists going back to a year," he replied.
"Yeah. But with everything that's going on…" he shrugged lightly. "I could simply work for you, couldn't I?"
"Do you want to work for me?" Adrian asked in honest surprise.
"I'd prefer it to the Ministry, at least," he grumbled.
"You're not going to be tied down to the D.M.L.E.," Adrian assured him. "So unless you have something better in mind, I'd like you to work under Madam Bones."
"All right," Tiberius accepted, not sounding enthused about it in the least.
He glanced his way, briefly. "I also want to you to learn Occlumency."
"Oh." Tiberius tilted his head towards him.
"I've picked out a few books for you, you can start with those," Adrian continued. "Perhaps in a week or two, I can guide you through the practicals."
"Oh." He furrowed his brows.
"Or mother might guide you, if you prefer to learn from her," he said.
"Why am I learning Occlumency?" Tiberius asked carefully.
"Why not?" he countered, shrugging a shoulder. "It's a highly useful skill to possess."
"I suppose," he narrowed his eyes lightly, then looked away. "You could teach me Defence," he suggested, softer.
"I probably should," Adrian conceded, shutting down thoughts of Dumbledore's Army. "I've had a lot of things on my mind," he said, more to himself. "Speaking of things on my mind, have you seen the Ministry pamphlet?"
"Yeah."
"I hope I need not remind you to be responsible. Mother has enough to worry about."
"I'm sorry."
"… Spilt potion. Don't beat yourself up over it. Just… I don't want you to worry mother."
"I am sorry."
The conversation came to an end at that, and they remained seated for a good while in silence. After Tiberius yawned a second time, he asked Adrian if there was anything else he wanted to talk about.
Madam Pucey's plea rang in Adrian's ears. And as much as he wanted to believe they could survive the war without needing to address the secrets between them, he didn't. He glanced sideways at Tiberius, who was trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes.
Tiberius, who was his first cousin and his only brother. Tiberius, who did not like duelling and was at risk of getting far too entangled in a war. Tiberius, who couldn't stand not knowing things and did not know the slightest thing of what Adrian really wanted to talk about.
"No," Adrian said, swallowed past the untruth. "Get to bed before you collapse."
"Good night, Adrian."
"Night, Ty."
Sitting in the pristine waiting area of the office of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Adrian read through the entirety of the morning's Daily Prophet. Once he reached the end of the newspaper, he looked at the middle-aged secretary on the other side of the room, threw a glance at the large clock on the wall behind her. Refusing to reread the rag, he neatly placed it back in its place, walked over to the secretary.
It was an entire fifteen minutes past his appointment, and there was no sign of the Head of the Department.
The secretary pursed her lips at his approach, did not pause in her work. "Yes, Mr Pucey?" she asked.
"Is my appointment still on the calendar?" Adrian asked.
She frowned at her desk. "I'll admit, it's not like Madam Bones to be late without notice. Tell you what, I'll send out a message to her. If you're willing to wait, you'll be the first one in through the door when she arrives."
Adrian shook his head lightly. "I have some business at Administration. I believe I shall attend to it now. Is it all right if I drop by afterwards?"
"Sure, I'll reschedule you," she said, flashing him a small, thankful smile.
Adrian went to Administration, sat through an hour of paperwork, and then returned to a packed Head office.
He was stopped by an Auror at the external doors to the waiting room. "Sorry, mate. Can't let you any further in."
Adrian did a double take at the trainee Auror, only to find himself face-to-face with Cedric Diggory. With the trainee Auror robes, his hair cut short and neat, and a grim expression on his face, Diggory looked like he had aged years in a few weeks.
"I didn't know you worked for the Aurory," Adrian said, stepping aside to let some Ministry workers pass by.
Diggory shrugged lightly. "You're here on business?" he asked.
"Yeah. I was here an hour ago, actually. What's going on?" Adrian asked, frowning as he assessed the tense atmosphere in the room ahead.
"Ah," Diggory said, then winced lightly. He pulled him aside, whispered. "An Auror squad had to break in to Madam Bones's house."
Adrian's gaze snapped back towards him. "What? Why?"
He shook his head stiffly. "I was sent to check on her when the Ministry owl returned unanswered. First thing I saw when I apparated to the area was the Mark above her house."
He inhaled sharply, clenched his jaw.
Diggory darted a glance at the workers in the room, nodded. "Yeah. I – I disapparated instantly."
Adrian stepped back. "Okay," he nodded stoically. "Sorry. I'll get out of your wand." He turned back towards the lift.
In the summer after his fifth year, Adrian had engaged in a two-weeks-long work experience at the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He had worked directly under Amelia Bones, Head of the department. He had gone in expecting such menial tasks as befitting a fresh O.W.L graduate, but had instead been plunged into the gruelling deep-end of Wizarding Britain's legal system. He suspected his father had something to do with Madam Bones working him to the bone.
He hadn't thanked her at the end of the experience, not sincerely anyway, because back then he had been too bitter about the hard work, too blind to her good turn. But he had lately been meaning to acknowledge her guidance, express his gratitude for the experience. After his N.E. , after he had taken over the company properly. And if she had seemed amenable to the idea, he would have requested her to similarly take Tiberius under her wings.
Adrian pressed his lips together as the doors to the lift closed. It seemed he would be thanking Amelia Bones' grave.
The atmosphere was dreary, too close a reminder of Mr Pucey's funeral over two years ago. Adrian silently lead Madam Pucey towards the other attendees, grounding himself with the pressure of her grip on his arm. Tiberius, his head bowed and his steps heavy, followed closely behind them.
There was no rain that day, but the sun wasn't particularly warming either.
There were fewer people than was befitting the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The group was comprised largely of the Bones' family, family acquaintances, a handful of friends. The Ministry employees, who were doing the best to look unlike Ministry employees, barely registered in the crowd.
The casket was closed. Unless they wanted to traumatize a few attendees, the casket had to remain closed.
Susan Bones, Amelia Bones's niece, her grief evident in the heaviness of her eyes, stepped up with an open scroll of parchment in her hand. As the casket lowered into the ground, soft sniffling accompanied her gentle reading.
Adrian held onto his mother's hand, kept his eyes on the ground before him. The official said a final few words that didn't register in his ears. Madam Pucey gave his arm a gentle squeeze, and he started leading them away.