Chapter 5: Home Life
Gawain let himself into his Yorkshire house, yawning. The mudroom was dim, but he did not bother to light the lamp as he took his shoes off and lined them next to the others by the door. He shed his cloak, hanging it on the neat row of hooks, and glanced at his reflection in the mirror that hung on the wall opposite.
Merlin, but he was looking old. If he looked hard, he could still see the face that he recognised from his youth. The straight nose, dark brows, grey eyes, square jaw. He'd kept the style of his hair and short cropped beard quite unchanged for probably two decades; he was a creature of habit, after all. Yes, there were vestiges of the man of his youth there. But they were fast disappearing.
Worry lines had long since marred his forehead, his eyes, his mouth. His hair, which had once been nearly black, was looking more salt and less pepper by the day. And lately, dark circles stood out under his eyes. He was not nearly so good as he once had been at working long hours without rest.
Gawain sighed and turned away from the mirror. There was nothing for it, anyway. So why dwell on it. He moved down the hall toward the sitting room. This room was brightly and cheerily lit. Ella and Gwen were snuggled up on the couch, a book on Ella's lap. Gwen was helping her sound out a particularly difficult word.
"Yeh ken the housekeeper's name? Sound it out, my jo," Gwen was saying.
"'Mac-Cree-Dee—' Oh yeah, I remember now! 'They realised that Mrs. Macready must be bringing her party of sightseers up the back stairs instead of up the front—' Oh, Da'! You're home!"
"Hi, Ells." He moved across the room and kissed her on top of the head.
"Will you come and read with us?"
Gawain felt his stomach grumble, protesting the many hours since his lunch at Hogwarts. "After supper, Ella. We'll find a good bedtime story." He turned to Gwen, he was surprised she was still here at a quarter-to-eight. "Is Mary not home yet?"
"Aye, she got home just afore yeh did. Got caught up at work, I think. She's in the kitchen now."
Gawain nodded, brushed Ella's hair back from her face, encouraged her to keep reading, and headed toward the kitchen.
Mary had her back to him when he entered, pulling out the makings for dinner. She didn't notice him immediately, and he took a moment to watch her silently from the doorway. Age was showing on Mary too. A little more plump, a few streaks of grey at the temples of her thick brown hair, crow's-feet at the corners of her eyes… But she was still really quite lovely. She was everything soft and warm. Her face was round, her lips full, her movements graceful. A small smile came to Gawain's lips as he watched her for a small secret moment.
"Oh!" Mary said, abruptly realising he was there. "I didn't hear you come in."
"Only just," Gawain commented. "What's for supper?"
"I thought I would use the leftover meat from the other night to make a sort of shepherds' pie? I invited Mam to stay, hope you don't mind. I wasn't sure that you'd be back."
"Sounds great. Can I help?" Gawain tried not to feel offended when Mary looked surprised at the offer. He helped cook supper some nights!
"Er… why don't you wash and peel the potatoes?"
Gawain took a handful of potatoes to the sink and scrubbed them. His eyes drifted up through the window, and he looked out across the moor. He'd always been fond of the view from this window. Each evening, just as the sun dipped behind the hill, the expanse of purple heather seemed to shine like gold. It only lasted for just the briefest moment, and it was easy to miss. With Gawain's work schedule being what it was, he realised it had been sometime since he had seen it. It was a sight he craved; one that that always brought back sweet memories of times gone by. But he had missed this moment today. The heather was turning the deep blue of dusk. He turned away, looking round for a vegetable peeler and abruptly realised he couldn't remember which drawer they kept it in. Okay, maybe it had been a while since he had been home early enough to help with the cooking.
He thought back to when they had been younger, he and Mary. They had cooked together almost every night in the first few years of their marriage. He remembered turning on the radio and pulling Mary into a silly dance between each stir of the pot or each ingredient added. He remembered looking forward to making casseroles that would need time in the oven because that time had invariably been spent making love on the kitchen table. He remembered laughter in this room.
He wasn't sure when exactly that had changed. When the laughter had died from this room and from their marriage. It hadn't happened all at once, of course. The change had come so gradually, he hadn't realised it was happening at first. Ella was born, their respective careers had taken off. And little by little, they had become too busy and too tired for dancing or love-making or laughter. Now, he wasn't sure how to bring it back. And so what had once felt so natural and wonderful, now felt awkward.
Peeler finally retrieved, he moved to the cutting board, as Mary pulled out a frying pan and started sautéing some diced onions.
"Your mum said you were home late too?" he asked as he peeled and quartered the potatoes. "Rough day at work?"
"It's been busy, yes."
Gawain remembered back to Hogwarts. The smears of blood and haunted looks of its inhabitants. "I went to Hogwarts today," he said. "It's a right mess." Mary paused and looked at him with sad eyes, waiting and saying nothing. "I imagine you're treating some of the wounded?"
"Yes. Some of the injuries were… quite horrific." She didn't elaborate. She turned away to the stove.
"Aguamenti," Gawain muttered, directing his wand into a large pot. He added the potatoes and brought the pot to a boil with another tap of his wand. It was then that he heard a sniff beside him. He looked over. Mary was turned away from him, but he saw that her shoulders were subtly shaking with shuddering breaths.
Confused, he gently turned her to face him with a hand under the chin. There were tears in her eyes. She didn't meet his gaze, but scrubbed them away furiously.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I'm fine. Being silly. Just stressed out at work." She turned back to push the onions around the pan quite unnecessarily.
Gawain felt awkward. He was never good at this. He couldn't think what to say or do to make her feel better. Especially if she didn't tell him what the matter was. He looked around for something to do and took up a fork to test if the potatoes were soft enough for mashing. Damn. Still firm.
Mary added some carrots and peas to the skillet with the onions and let them cook for a moment in silence before scraping in the leftover meat from the other night to heat through.
"They're so young." Her voice was such a low whisper, Gawain almost didn't catch it over the sizzling from the frying pan. Gawain looked at her, waiting for her to continue. "So many of them… they're only children. And the injuries… I've been in this field long enough… I thought I had seen it all. I thought I was beyond being shocked…" She trailed off.
"I know what you mean. It was pretty shocking being at Hogwarts today. Seeing the destruction. Seeing what went down there."
Mary sighed in irritation. "No, you don't know what I mean, Gawain," she huffed in exasperation. What had he said to vex her now? Honestly, he was only trying to empathise… "It's not always about you and your work," she continued. Abruptly she was much more aggressive in her stirring of the frying pan. She pointed her wand at the pan and a broth poured out of the tip, a bit splashing out onto the counter in her agitation. "This isn't about some building being destroyed. These are people. Real people. And fifty of them are dead and another sixty-some injured... Good people who were just trying to make the world better." Her voice broke. She tapped the spatula on the edge of the pan much harder than necessary to free it of its bits of clinging onion before setting it down on the counter.
Mary moved to the cupboard and pulled out a casserole dish, slamming the door to the cupboard shut behind her. She plopped the dish next to the stove and started scooping the contents of the frying pan into it. Gawain bit back the scathing retort he wanted to fire at her, knowing it would only serve to make her angrier. Why she was snapping at him… it was hardly his fault. Instead he snatched up the pot of potatoes and silently turned away to drain them and set to work at mashing them. It was a good outlet for frustration.
Abruptly, Mary sighed from behind him. "I'm sorry. That wasn't fair." When Gawain looked back at her, her shoulders were slumped dejectedly.
They were quiet for a moment. Mary reached for the pot of mashed potatoes and their fingers brushed as Gawain passed it over. Mary turned and started spreading the potatoes over the top of the pie. She spoke again softly after a moment, not looking at Gawain as she made swirling patterns in the potatoes with a fork. "There's a boy in my ward. He's seventeen. Third degree burns all over him. He flinches away every time I pull out my wand to do a debriding charm on the wounds. Like he expects me to hurt him. And another girl. She hasn't said a word since they brought her in. Just stares off blankly. I heard from one of the other patients that the Death Eaters had been using the Cruciatus Curse on her before… before…. And Healer Smethwyck down in the Di Llewellyn ward, he was telling me he has a girl who was just torn to pieces by a werewolf—it wasn't even the full moon! He did that to her in his human form.
"And today… just before my shift was due to end... Another man died. One of the Hogsmeaders, he worked in Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, you know? I was just beginning to think he would make it. But he threw a clot to the brain and was dead before I could do a thing to help him…"
Gawain leaned against the counter as she spoke, watching her graceful hand swirling patterns over the potatoes. At last she sighed, set the fork down, and moved the pie to the oven. When she turned back to him, he saw a tear sliding down her cheek. She looked him in the eye for the first time since he had arrived home this evening. She seemed to be looking to him to make it right. Merlin, but he wished he knew how to do that.
Gently, he took her by the shoulders and led her to the table and sat her down, brushing the tear off her cheek with his thumb. Then he went and pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses, pouring them each a generous amount. Maybe it wouldn't fix everything, but wine was generally as good a start as any.
Seated across from her at the table, he watched her over his glass. She was gazing into her wine, swirling it around in her hand; it caught the light and seemed to glow like rubies. She looked so pitiful. He really didn't know what to say. He never did. Some people were good at this sort of thing. They knew just what to say to make someone feel better. He wasn't one of them. Never had been.
She was right, of course. However horrific Hogwarts had seemed, he really couldn't imagine that the worst of it had already been taken away before he had ever been. He had been so busy working with Kingsley in the Ministry that first day after the Battle, he hadn't really given much thought to the first responders or the Healers treating the wounded. Despite the fact that one of those Healers had been his wife. His stomach twisted in guilt.
They sipped their wine in silence for a little bit. Then he asked, "Why didn't you mention any of this before?"
She let out a small humourless laugh. "When, Gawain? We've scarcely seen each other in days."
It was a fair point. But not one that lessened Gawain's guilt in the slightest.
"I'm sorry," he said awkwardly. "I should have thought… I should have realised…"
Mary sighed. "Oh, it's fine, don't bother yourself. I know work must be crazy for you too right now. How's it going?" She took a sip of wine, raising her eyebrows as she looked at him questioningly.
"Chaos, to be honest," replied Gawain. "It's like building a whole government from scratch."
"Think Kingsley is up for it?" Mary had met most all the Aurors Gawain worked with at one point or other over the years; she knew their personalities well from the stories Gawain would tell her about work.
"As much as anyone can be. It's a daunting task that's been laid before him. But I think he's a good choice for it. And he's been working to form a tight inner circle of advisors in the Heads of Departments and such." She frowned slightly, but Gawain could not read her thoughts.
"Including you, I imagine." Her voice was soft and non-judgmental. But there was an undercurrent to it that Gawain could not quite follow. "You're being careful, aren't you? It sounds like it's still very unstable out there."
"Not a lot of risk to me, to be honest. If anything, it's been a little boring." It stung a bit. It was the first time Gawain had faced this thought aloud, for all that it had been prickling at him the past three days. "There was once a time when I would have been the one out there catching the Dark Wizards and fighting and duelling." He ran a hand through his beard. Stubble was pricking at his neck. "Now I'm just sitting around telling other people how to do that. Signing off on paperwork. Advising the Minister on security matters. And somehow leaving the Dark Wizard duelling to school children…" Gawain shook his head at the ridiculousness of it.
Mary regarded him for a moment. Then she looked down to her glass. "Ella told me you met Harry Potter?"
Gawain shifted. He should have known that comment was coming. "She did, did she?"
Mary gave a small smile. "She's telling anyone who will listen. She's proud of her da'. Working with Harry Potter to fix the wold's problems..."
"Her imagination is running away with her. Honestly, I've scarcely spoken to him. And he's not exactly eager to work with us... We'll see. I think Kingsley's hoping he'll come around. He'd be an asset to the Ministry in more ways than one…" He was rambling. Hoping to deflect the accusation he knew was coming.
But she was not so easily distracted. She looked back at him, considering him in silence for a moment. "You didn't want to tell me…" It was an observation more than a question.
Gawain shifted. "Like you said. We've both been so busy…" Gawain trailed off.
But they both knew why he hadn't mentioned Harry Potter to his wife. He'd known it would come up eventually. Especially if, as Kingsley clearly hoped, Potter would ultimately elect to join the Ministry. But if he was being honest, he had been hoping to delay the conversation with his wife. In the past, the topic of any of the Potter family had been hard for Mary. Remembering Lily Potter was always emotional for her. And hearing the rumours about the challenges of her son's life was this constant reminder of her loss. Every time she read the boy's name in the newspaper, it was like picking off the scab from a healing wound.
He told himself that he was trying to spare her the grief she felt in discussing anything related to the Potters. But he knew he was lying to himself. It was out of selfishness, of course. Quite frankly, Gawain had not felt he had the energy to support any emotional turmoil right now, not with everything else that was going on. So really, it was cowardice that had kept him silent on the subject.
After a moment of quiet, Mary said, "I'm not so fragile as you think me, you know. I can cope. It's been a long time, after all. I miss her, but… I can talk about her. And I'd like to hear about him. About Harry." Gawain wondered if he imagined the accusation. The double-meaning. It felt like a jab. See? I can talk about Lily Potter, even if you still can't talk about Katherine.
It wasn't a fair thought, Gawain knew. He was projecting his own grief onto Mary. Expecting her to feel and act as he would. But they were different. Their grief was different. He knew the loss of her best friend had been terrible for Mary. That it still made her sad and that she had never exactly filled that hole in her heart with anyone else. But it was not the same as it was for him. In truth, he hated broaching the topic of his wife's grief because he feared the opening it would leave for her to probe his.
He was spared from comment, at least for the time-being, when the timer on the oven buzzed. Mary got up and checked on the pie.
Gawain sipped his wine as he watched her pull the casserole out of the oven. Satisfied with it, she moved to the door and poked her head out. "Teatime, you two," she called in the direction of the sitting room where Gawain could just make out Ella's voice from where she read with Gwen on the couch.
He rose to his feet, retrieving four plates and sets of cutlery. He moved to set the table and was spared further conversation in the kerfuffle of Ella coming into the room and chatting animatedly with her mother about her book. She was exclaiming some great shock Gawain did not quite follow at the behaviour of someone named Mr. Tumnus. He listened with one ear, his mind on other things, as he offered Gwen a glass of wine. Then he turned to scoop a portion of beef and potato onto each of the plates.
But eventually, the four of them were all seated around the table, and Gawain was wincing as he caught the words, "Hush now. Your da' was just going to tell me about Harry Potter. You'd like to hear about him too, wouldn't you?"
Abruptly, all eyes in the room were on him, and there was silence. Gawain noticed Gwen give a quick glance of concern in the direction of her daughter before looking back to him. Gawain cleared his throat awkwardly and took a sip of wine to stall.
"Not sure how much there is to tell," he said gruffly. "Met him in passing more than anything. But he came up to Hogwarts today with the Minister and me and a couple others."
He was rather hoping to see the conversation drop there. But of course everyone was still looking at him for more. Gawain racked his brain for anything interesting to tell. But it was blank.
"I would hae thought he'd be staying there since the Battle," Gwen prompted. "At Hogwerts, I mean."
"He's been keeping himself to himself a bit. I think he tires of the constant spotlight." Gawain trailed off. There was a silence again.
"Was he returning to help with rebuilding the castle?" Mary asked after a moment, taking pity on him; she knew how bad he was at conversation. She lifted a fork of potatoes to her mouth, but her eyes did not leave Gawain.
"Yes. And no." Gawain paused to think about what Potter had been doing that whole day. "He mostly was just… talking with people. Being seen. Good for morale, I think." Saying it out loud, it didn't seem like much. But to the contrary, Gawain was rather in awe of what he had seen Potter accomplish in just a short time there. He remembered the vacant expressions of the Hogwarts inhabitants when they had first arrived. And then how differently they had looked after a smile and some kind words from The Boy Who Lived. "People… people light up when the see him," he added, trying to convey this.
"Only natural, I suppose," Gwen commented. "After all the laddie's done. Defeating You-Know-Who… I imagine everyone's pure star-struck."
Gawain shook his head, trying to find the words. "It's more than that…" He couldn't think how to explain what he meant. "They know him. Love him. And he knows and loves them back. Really knows them, I mean. It's not like he's just a figurehead. He's a leader." Gawain paused, collecting his thoughts. He was thinking aloud more than anything— trying to figure out what to make of this mysterious boy who kept getting thrown into his path. "And it wasn't just the students," he continued. "It was everybody. The staff, the Hogsmeders, the Order of the Phoenix… Hell, it wasn't even just the humans. I saw him talking to giants and centaurs and house-elves. Calling them by name. All like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like he'd held conversations with them dozens of times before. I've never seen anything quite like it. Never met someone who could hold such an impact over so many different kinds of people."
Mary had a small sad smile on her face as she listened to this. At the last sentence, she gave a small laugh that sounded halfway to a choking sob. He looked at her. "Funnily enough, I think I have. It all sounds quite a bit like his mother." She dashed a single tear from her eye, not letting it fall. She reached for her glass, Gawain suspected more to give herself an excuse not to look at any of them as all eyes were now turned to her. "I mean… obviously Lily was never put in a position such as this. But she had this power… This ability to unite people. To bring out the best in them. I mean, she was even friends with Severus Snape in school. Everyone knew he was well on his way to becoming a Death Eater. And yet when he was with her, he was totally different." She took a sip of wine. Then added as an afterthought, "Then again, he went on to become You-Know-Who's right-hand man, so perhaps not the best example." Her tone changed from one of nostalgia to one of dry ire in the blink of an eye.
"Actually, Snape is expected to be posthumously pardoned," Gawain contributed. Mary looked at him in shock. "I don't have the details yet… Potter is supposed to testify in a hearing, and I know it's on the very long list of things Kingsley is wanting to clear up with him. But from what it sounds like, Snape was a double-agent. Working for Dumbledore. He did a lot to try to protect Potter over the years."
Mary was gaping at him, her mouth ajar. "I… He… he was protecting Harry?"
Gawain shrugged. "That's what it sounds like. But this is all second-hand intel. I really don't know the whole story." Mary was still staring at him, shaking her head and looking positively flabbergasted. Gawain got the impression this information meant something a great deal more to her than it did to him.
"Well, I guess that just proves my point right there, doesn't it?" she said softly, more to herself.
Ella was staring between her parents, drinking in the conversation, though Gawain felt sure she didn't understand a large bit of it. "Does he really have that scar on his forehead?" she said.
Gawain laughed. "Yes, I believe he does. His hair is quite long… I rather wonder if he isn't intentionally covering it."
"And that's where You-Know-Who cursed him?"
"Yes. When he was a baby."
"So does he have another scar now?"
"What?"
"It was in the newspaper that You-Know-Who cursed him again. And that he should have died but didn't. So does he have another scar now?"
"I… I don't know," Gawain had not thought of this. "He said he was not hurt during the Battle, but he had clearly taken some knocks. Some bruises and cuts and the like." Ella seemed annoyed to not have her question answered. Like she expected her father to have given the boy a full physical exam during their brief encounters.
"Tis quite remarkable... pure barry," Gwen commented. "To imagine such a wee boy daein' all that. Duellin' You-Know-Who an' all. He must be right brave."
"It is remarkable," Gawain agreed. He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, thinking again. "Strange though. Meeting him. Not sure what I expected. But he really is just a normal boy in a lot of ways. It's hard to reconcile. All the things people say about him. And yet when you see him..." He trailed off, again struggling to convey what he meant.
"I dinnae suppose he got much of a childhood, poor laddie," Gwen commented. "Had tae grow up proper fast, I imagine." Her eyes were on Mary as she said this, full of sadness.
Mary seemed to prefer not to entertain that course of conversation. "You mentioned he wasn't keen to work with the Ministry?" Mary asked.
"Hmm," Gawain made a non-committal sound in his throat. "Hard to say, really. It hasn't exactly been broached directly. He's fond of Kingsley. They seem to be something of friends. Sounds like they've known each other longer than they let on. But he's definitely suspicious of anything to do with the Ministry. He didn't want to come with us to Hogwarts at first—saw it like it would be him declaring a public endorsement for the Ministry. And he got right angry when Kingsley asked me to keep an eye on him to make sure he was safe while we were there. I think Fudge did some irrevocable harm to his relationship with the Ministry. But damn, if we couldn't use him on our side in all this…"
Mary rose, collecting empty plates. "Only natural, I suppose. Fudge had the whole Wizarding world calling him a liar, when all he had been trying to do was warn us about You-Know-Who. I can't say I blame him for not being so quick to forgive the Ministry for that."
"Maybe. But this is a new Ministry. Everything's changing. Maybe the lad would find this one more to his liking if he gave it a chance."
"I bet he's gonna be Minister of Magic someday," said Ella. "Then he can just boot all the people who were mean to him."
Gawain laughed. "Maybe someday." He checked his watch. "I think it's bedtime, Ells Bells. And if I recall correctly, I owe you a bedtime story. Go pick one out, and don't forget to brush your teeth. I'll meet you there."
Ella was grumbling, but Gwen shooed her off toward the direction of her bedroom with a, "Haud yer wheesht, yeh heard yer da'. Off with yeh, my jo."
"I think tis my bedtime too, loves," said Gwen, looking back to Gawain and Mary, and heading toward the door. "Thank yeh fur tea, darlin'," she said to Mary, kissing her daughter on the cheek as she passed.
"Of course, Mam. See you tomorrow."
Alone again, Gawain carried the empty casserole dish to the sink where Mary was washing up. She smiled at him as he handed it to her. But she set it aside and instead took Gawain by the hand, running her thumb over his knuckles.
"It was good to have you home for tea tonight. You've been working so much." She looked up at him a soft smile on her lips.
"It's going to be a busy time for a while…"
"But surly you have to take some time off. I'd like us to do something as a family one of these days. It's been so long since we've been able to go out. Maybe we could go to the zoo in Leeds? I think Ella would love it. How about this weekend?"
"There's just too much work to do, right now. Hearings start on Monday, and I have a stack of case files a metre tall on my desk…"
Mary sighed and dropped his hand. "Honestly, Gawain. Would one day's holiday kill you? Would the whole of the Ministry fall into chaos?" She turned back to the dishes, pulling out her wand to clean them.
"Maybe in a week or two. This is a mad time at work. I really need to focus. It's not forever."
Mary looked at him then and Gawain hated the look in her eyes. It was the look he stayed at work late to avoid. "It's already been forever, Gawain."
Gawain opened his mouth to respond, but before he could—
"Da'! I picked out a book!" Gawain glanced distractedly in the direction of the door. Ella stood there, dressed in her pyjamas and holding a well-loved picture book—one that every member of the family could probably recite by heart, they had read it so many times together. And somehow, rereading that book for the trillionth time seemed more appealing that having this conversation with Mary for the trillionth time.
"Well, we best find out what happens to the mouse tonight, then shan't we?" Gawain said to her. And he turned at left Mary by the sink, staring after them.
Guilt riled at his gut as he tucked Ella into bed snuggly. He propped himself beside her and pulled out the book. He let her hold it and turn the pages, just as she liked. Ella had her head resting on his shoulder, and he could smell the sweet scent of her hair.
He loved this. He really did. He wanted to be a good husband and father, to be here for every supper and bedtime. But he loved his work too. It was important, what he did. Merlin, but he wished Mary could understand that.
The book was short and they reached the end just ten minutes later. "Read it again? Please?" Ella pleaded.
"Not tonight, Ella," Mary said from the door. Gawain hadn't heard her approach. "Your da's had a long day. Let's let him get some rest."
Gawain kissed the top of Ella's head as she grumbled. "Goodnight, Ells Bells," he whispered against her hair.
Mary was dimming the light. She sat on the opposite edge of the bed to say her goodnights, and Gawain rose quickly. He walked to the door but paused in the hallway, just out of sight, listening to Mary humming Ella a lullaby.
He knew this lullaby well. He wasn't sure from where Mary had picked it up originally. It was an old song. Old enough that most the lyrics were long forgotten. But it was a beautiful if slightly melancholy tune; and it had persisted through the years, half-forgotten or otherwise. He knew she had sung this lullaby almost every night since Ella had been born. And yet somehow, Gawain realised it had been quite some time since he had last heard it.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and moved down the hall toward the master bedroom. The melody followed him. Accusing him. Beautiful and reproachful.
Gawain had his feet propped on the corner of his desk. He leaned back in his chair as he flipped through his twenty-second case file of the morning. Outside his office, there was a great deal of commotion as his Aurors scrambled in their attempts to compile evidence, conduct interviews, respond to various tips and hails. He always left the door to his office open. It was a habit that allowed him to stay on top of the goings-on in the office. But today, Gawain tuned it out, trying to focus on the work in front of him.
Gawain frowned at Augustus Rookwood's file and sighed, shaking his head to himself. Merlin, but were they really going to have to try this git again? You would think the mere fact that he had been part of the mass break-out from Azkaban and that he'd been captured yet again involved in Death Eater activities was proof enough that he was plenty guilty. But Kingsley had been most insistent that every single prisoner receive a fair trial. Remembering the Sirius Black debacle, Gawain understood the point. But for some of these cases, it just felt like an unnecessary amount of work when the outcome was so clear. With another sigh, he leaned forward to retrieve a quill from his desk, scribbling a note into the file.
A movement by the door alerted him to someone's entrance. The door clicked shut and the sounds of the hubbub outside died to a dull rumble.
"Just a moment," he said to whoever had entered, completing his train of thought, a reminder to follow up on later.
"Take your time," replied a low calm voice, that immediately made Gawain not take his time at all but instead drop his quill and look up in surprise.
"Minister," he greeted, nearly falling off his chair in his haste to remove his feet from the desk and stand.
Kingsley raised an eyebrow at him. "Kingsley," Gawain corrected himself. "What brings you down here?"
Kingsley didn't respond immediately. He pulled a spare chair over to the desk opposite Gawain, turned it backwards and straddled it, leaning an elbow on the chair back, his chin cupped in a fist. He didn't speak for a moment, nor met Gawain's eye, seeming lost in thought.
"That charm we were discussing yesterday with our friend," he said at last. "As we were leaving Hogwarts." Now he glanced to Gawain to be sure he was following him. Gawain nodded for Kingsley to continue, internally eager for a day when they could speak freely within the Ministry without fearing listening ears. "I've done a little reading on it last night. It seems to be… a complicated bit of magic. Even more so than I'd anticipated…" He paused again, looking out the window of the office at the bustle of Aurors rushing in and out of their cubicles. Then looked back to Gawain. "You're the best at protective enchantments of anyone I know. I was hoping you could come. Help make sure I don't bungle it."
Gawain blinked. He had first taken an interest in protective enchantments eighteen years previous. It had started as an exercise in guilt which had progressed past an academic interest to something akin to obsession. He'd not particularly expected this training to have brought him to this point. To be directed toward offering protection to The Chosen One. It was flattering. And a little intimidating.
"And 'our friend' would be alright with that, would he?" he asked after the shock had worn off.
Kingsley smiled. "He has nothing against you. It's me he was annoyed at. I'm the one who crossed the line. And yet he's still asking me to do it... Pretty forgiving bloke, really." He shrugged to accent this last thought.
Gawain took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he considered the request. The Fidelius Charm was infamously tricky. "I have not actually performed that particular spell. I've read on it quite extensively, though it's been a while. I think I have a couple books that might help." He glanced toward the bookshelf against the wall, mentally running through which might be useful.
"Is that a 'yes'?"
Gawain nodded. "If you think that I can be helpful. And that that help would not be unwanted."
Kinsley sighed with relief. "Thank you. I was up all night imagining how I might muck the whole thing up. Dumbledore did it the last time, and of course he made the whole thing look so easy. But then when I was reading about it… Well, I suppose we can't all be Dumbledores."
Gawain decided the questions this raised would be safer voiced later in Grimmauld Place than here. "What time were you planning on going over?"
"I have a meeting with Guy Burgess at half past four. I thought we could go after that."
"Burgess? Would it be too much to hope that he's handing in his notice?" Gawain was glad that, unlike Kingsley, he really didn't have to hide his opinion on others just in the name of political relations.
Still, Kingsley smiled at Gawain indulgently before responding. "No, I don't think so. I received quite a sternly worded owl from him yesterday. He's insisting that he will not take part in any meetings outside of the Ministry headquarters or after hours. Most unfortunately, I think he is quite aware that his international relations and foreign policy experience makes him quite invaluable at the Ministry. And he is realising he is in a position to make demands."
"Hrmph. I reckon we could find someone to take his place easy enough."
Kingsley gave a small humourless chortle. "As tempting as it is, I can't afford to go about sacking people or freezing them out, even if they're not… my preferred candidates for the job… Cooperation is the foundation of successful politics, after all."
Gawain sighed. He understood the sense in this. Burgess had a lot of friends in high places, in this country and in others. And he was a spiteful personality; he could do a lot of damage if he had a mind to. Yes, he saw the sense in what Kingsley said, but sense or no, he didn't have to be happy about it.
"Anyway. I can't imagine the meeting should take long. Shall we say five o'clock?" Kingsley continued.
"Are you sure you don't want to say half-past? You know how Burgess can talk…"
In the end, Gawain had been closer. It was nearly quarter to six when the two men made their way to the Apparition Zone. Margaret had accepted the night off after Gawain had assured her that he would see the Minister home after their evening task. She had been resistant to the idea when he had first approached her that afternoon, but by the evening, she had been quite cheery about the fact that it had allowed her and her wife to accept an invitation to dinner from the Bones family. It was a win-win. Margaret got a reprieve, and Gawain had an excuse not to head straight home to face more disappointment from Mary.
Kingsley met his eye and nodded, and together, they Apparated to the stoop at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and let themselves in the front door.
When they entered the kitchen, Potter looked up from the book he was reading and nodded to them in greeting. Potter was sitting back in one of the chairs, his feet up on the table and a book propped against his knees. He was absently twiddling with something small in his left hand, which he distractedly stuffed in a pocket at their entrance; Gawain caught a flash of gold before it disappeared. For a brief moment, Gawain noted the similarity of this posture to how he himself preferred to read at his desk. But then he took in the kitchen and was immediately distracted.
The kitchen was almost unrecognisable. Every surface now shone. Copper pots and pans, freshly burnished, glimmered in the light of a merrily crackling fire. The broken pantry door had been repaired and the chairs which had previously been strewn across the floor were now neatly lined along the long scrubbed wooden table. The house-elf they had seen yesterday was now busily stirring a pot of stew, and the smell in the kitchen seemed to be one that embodied home and comfort.
And then Gawain took in the framed photos lining the now sparkling clean wall nearest the door. There were a fair number, and Gawain took a moment to peruse them as Potter and Kingsley exchanged greetings.
There was one of Potter, though he looked younger, maybe twelve or thirteen. He stood with a girl with bushy brown hair and a tall boy with red hair, the three of them smiling and waving innocently at the camera. He moved down to the next which showed a man and women Gawain recognised as James and Lily Potter. They were sitting under a beech tree, James's arm around Lily and he was kissing her temple and they were laughing. The photo looked familiar; he thought he had seen it before at some point or other, though he could not think when. He moved on down the line. Another showed a group of perhaps two dozen school children— some sort of club, Gawain thought; it was a mishmash of students from various houses, all with their wands drawn. Another photo appeared to be from Lily and James's wedding day, a third man raising a glass in a toast.
"You've been busy," Kingsley was commenting, gesturing around the room as Gawain moved on to study the next photograph.
"Nah, Kreacher did most of it. He had the whole room cleaned in the time it took me to just fix the pantry door and hang a few photos."
Gawain paused to study one picture that looked particularly old and worn. It contained a collection of perhaps twenty-five witches and wizards, all smiling happily at the camera. He recognised several of the faces before him. Alastor Moody, Dumbledore, Marlene McKinnon, Frank and Alice Longbottom, the Potters, of course….
"Where on Earth did you dig this up?" said Kingsley, looking at the photo over Gawain's shoulder. "The original Order of the Phoenix?"
Potter strolled over, looking up at it too. "It was Mad-Eye's. Think he must have left it here. I found it tucked between some old cookbooks while we were tidying. Probably got put away there by mistake." He ran a hand through his long dark hair, mussing it, though it already looked plenty mussed. Gawain caught a glimpse of the lightning scar on his forehead. Potter's eyes were fixed on the photo.
"I remember I found it depressing the first time he showed it to me a few years ago. Just a bunch of dead people. Voldemort was returning to power, and I couldn't help but wonder…what was it all for? And was that where the rest of us were all headed?" Potter frowned at it. "But I guess I'm seeing it with new eyes now. The power of sacrifice, or some such." He shrugged. "It seemed like it should be up where people could see it. And this kitchen seemed like the place for it."
"It's perfect," Kingsley said soberly.
"Is there anyone in this photo who is still alive?" Gawain muttered, half to himself, shaking his head in shocked awe as he took in each of the people in the photo in turn.
Potter let out a humourless laugh. "Not many. Mad-Eye was good enough to regale me with the details of the deaths of each of them in turn. I'll spare you."
"That does sound like Mad-Eye…"
"Dinner is ready, Master Harry," the house elf abruptly croaked, breaking their focus on the photograph.
"Thank you, Kreacher. Why don't you bring out a couple extra bowls? And make sure you take plenty for yourself as well, of course." Potter turned toward the table and returned to his seat, pushing his book to one side. Kingsley and Gawain joined him at the table. Gawain accepted a bowl of what appeared to be a mouth-watering beef stew, accompanied by a suspicious glare from the house elf. After the elf had taken a bowl for himself as directed, he disappeared with a crack.
"I would hardly recognise him as the same elf…" Kingsley commented, taking an appreciative bite of stew.
"Yeah. Well, let's be honest. Sirius didn't exactly treat him well. I think they brought out the worst in each other. But Kreacher's come a long way. I'm quite proud of him, really," Potter agreed with a small smirk. He passed a plate of rolls to Gawain.
"In truth, I really don't know what to do with him, mind. I don't much fancy being waited on, but he doesn't much fancy having no one to wait upon. Quite the conundrum. And I don't like that he has to do everything I tell him to do. I asked him this morning if he'd accept clothes if I offered them. And I could pay him for his services instead. He was so offended he scarcely spoke to me all morning." He sighed and shook his head. "I guess it can't be that easy to dismantle a culture of slavery extending back centuries."
Abruptly, Gawain realised he was still holding the plate of rolls aloft, staring at the boy with a rather dim-witted expression on his face. He hastily closed his mouth and turned back to his stew. He didn't think he had even once considered house elves as being enslaved. How differently this boy's mind worked.
"That was something of a pet-project of Hermione, wasn't it? Freeing the house elves? I remember her telling me about it at that party when she made Prefect."
Potter gave a small chuckle. "Yes. I imagine she's terribly disappointed in me for not just freeing Kreacher immediately. Only wish it was that simple. But I expect she'll come up with some brilliant course of action to fix all of society's problems, someday. She always does."
"I have no doubt," Kingsley said with a laugh. Gawain knew they must be talking about Hermione Granger. He knew the name, though not much else. There had been a warrant out for her arrest, same as Potter, this past year. But information about her had been scarce except that she was a friend of Potter's and a Muggle-born.
Kingsley cleared his throat and changed the subject. "Well, should we talk about the Fidelius Charm?" He tore off a piece of roll and dipped it into his bowl.
"Mmm," replied Potter his mouth full, reaching across the table to the book he had been reading. "Sounds rather complicated, doesn't it?"
"It does," agreed Kingsley. "Which is why I brought Gawain along with me, hope you don't mind. He has something of a proclivity toward protective enchantments."
"Do you?" Potter turned to Gawain, raising his eyebrows in vague interest.
"I have done quite a lot of study in them, yes. I first started researching them about eighteen years ago."
"Since the First War, then," Potter acknowledged astutely. "As an Auror, you must have been quite active in the War back then."
"Since the Death Eaters broke into my home and murdered my first wife and our unborn child."
There was a deafening silence in the room, and it took Gawain a moment to realise he had spoken those words aloud. Something he never spoke aloud. What in the name of Merlin had made him do so now?
"I… I'm so sorry. I had no idea," Potter said at last, now a little awkward. "I didn't mean to pry." Kingsley was staring at Gawain with a small crease between his brows. He knew about Katherine, of course. He had been one of the Aurors to respond to the call when he had reported her death. But he also knew this was something Gawain did not speak of. Ever.
Gawain licked his lips and shifted uncomfortably, trying to avoid meeting either of their eyes.
"I… yes, well… never mind," Gawain struggled to think of how to turn the conversation away from this most hated topic. "I merely meant… I have dedicated quite a lot of energy to the study of protective enchantments. I have never tried to perform a Fidelius Charm, but I have read a great deal on them. I do have experience in Confido Charms, and they're quite closely related… I think we should be able to manage it."
Kingsley, who was looking at Gawain with a strange expression, came to his rescue then by turning to Potter and asking, "Are you quite sure you want me to be your Secret Keeper? Surely there must be someone else more… qualified."
"I'm sure. But if you don't want to do it, I can always wait until Hermione comes back and have her do it. Probably right up her alley. I bet she'd be thrilled at the challenge. But I also think most everyone would know that she would be the obvious choice."
Attention drawn away from Gawain, he took a moment to compose himself, drawing in a deep breath. Why on Earth had he said that out loud? He didn't speak of Katherine. Not to anybody. What possibly could have possessed him to bring her up to a boy he barely knew? Was it that photo full of people who had all died in the First War that had shaken him so?
"When does she get back from Australia?"
"Dunno. I had an owl from her," Potter was saying. "She managed to track down her parents and restore their memories. They're a bit put out by the whole thing, it sounds like. She said she's going to spend some time with them there. A little family time. Then she'll be helping to pack up their home and such… Probably a couple weeks.
"Hermione Granger," he explained to Gawain, "has the great misfortune of being one of my best friends. That, coupled with the fact that she's Muggle-born, had her and her family at quite a bit of risk this past year. To protect her parents, she modified their memories to make them forget they had a daughter, and she sent them off to start a new life in Australia. So now she's been away, trying to bring them back home."
"I'm not sure this is something that should wait," continued Kingsley. "Especially if you're staying here on your own," A muscle in Potter's jaw twitched and Gawain thought he was preparing himself for a fight again if need be, but Kingsley did not challenge this decision further. "I think it's best we get it done tonight. If you're sure."
"I am."
Kingsley turned to Gawain. "You said you had some books that would help?" Gawain nodded, glad to be getting to the real reason he was here. He reached for his rucksack, pulling out the tomes he had brought from his office.
"There are a couple complicating factors, I just need to clear up," Gawain said. Both Kingsley and Potter were looking at him with focus, and he was grateful to both of these men who had so smoothly steered the conversation out of dangerous waters. He was sure they had done so consciously and deliberately. He envied them that skill and wondered vaguely why he was so very bad at it. "A previous Fidelius Charm had already been placed on the property, I take it?"
The others nodded. "About three years ago," Kingsley supplied.
"And Dumbledore was the Secret-Keeper, I gather?" Again the other two nodded. "And if I'm correct, when he died, every person he had told the Secret to would then have become Secondary Keepers?" Nod.
"And there lies the issue," provided Kingsley. "The wards have become quite considerably weaker since his death. It was more than a few people who knew of this hide-out and each one has the potential to pose a threat if coerced."
"And just knowing the Secret puts a target on their backs," Potter added.
"Yes, I see," agreed Gawain. "Well, we're going to need to completely dismantle that previous spell and recast it. It shouldn't leave the house vulnerable for more than a moment if we time it right. But you'll be starting from scratch on who knows the Secret. Anyone who previously knew about the house will have to be told again."
"Shouldn't be a problem," said Potter. "Not so very many of us left, to be honest. Not many who need to know. Should be easy enough to get the message to the people who need it."
Gawain glanced to Kingsley who nodded his agreement.
"Well, then. Let's get a move on then. There of four main steps we need to follow…"
It was perhaps two hours later that Kingsley yawned and rubbed tired eyes. "Bloody hell, I'm knackered," he sighed. He pushed the small strip of parchment over to Potter, on which the words still shown as the ink dried.
The residence of Harry Potter may be found at number 12, Grimmauld Place, London
"It's a complicated spell; it can take a lot out of you. You did great," Gawain affirmed. He turned to Potter who was studying the slip of parchment. "You make sure you burn that after you pass it on to the Weasleys," he warned.
"I will."
Too tired for further conversation, the three of them rose and moved down the hall toward the front door. Gawain opened it and stepped out onto the stoop looking out at the dimly lit street. Everything looked quite normal. He took a deep breath of the crisp night air. He never liked the smell of London air, but it was pleasantly cool on his tired face.
"Is there a way to know for sure that it worked?" Kingsley asked looking out into the night and running a hand over his bald pate.
"Well, there at least aren't Dementors bearing down on us yet, so that's a good sign," offered Potter. He was leaning casually against the doorframe of the open door, for all the world as though Dementors in his home was not a concerning thought at all. "I have to drop by the Burrow and pass this on to them," he gestured with the slip of parchment in his hand. "I'll bring Ron back with me to test it before I have him read the parchment. Should be easy enough to confirm."
"Well, just be careful," warned Kingsley.
"Yes. In my daring act of Apparating from one Fidelius-protected house to another… I'm such a risk-taker," replied Potter dryly. But he smiled at Kingsley.
"Oh, that reminds me," said Kingsley. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a roll of parchment and a small laminated card. "Almost forgot…" He passed first the card to Potter, who looked at it with a frown.
"What's this?"
"An Apparition license. I spoke with Wilkie Twycross down in the Apparition Test Centre. Explained that I tested you myself when we went to Hogwarts yesterday as it was a security risk to have you come in just for that. He agreed to forgo your formal test and issue a license."
Potter was frowning down at the card. Gawain saw him swallow once hard, before looking up at Kingsley. "You shouldn't have done that."
"It was no bother—" Kingsley started, but Potter cut him off.
"I don't care if it was a bother or not. You shouldn't have done it."
There was silence for a moment and they stared at each other. Potter looked wary for some reason Gawain didn't understand. At first, Gawain thought Kingsley didn't understand either, but as he watched them staring at each other, he saw a look of comprehension appear in Kingsley's eye. He shifted uncomfortably.
"I don't want special treatment from you, Kingsley," Potter finally said after a moment.
Kingsley kicked his toe into the stoop and sighed. "It's really not that big of a deal, Harry. I was just sparing you a thirty minute test to prove you can do something I happen to already know you can do."
"You're right. It's probably not a big deal. But where do you draw that line, if you start doing things like this for me?"
"Well, apparently somewhere above granting you a pardon for any crimes you committed in exchange for testifying on Monday," Kingsley responded dryly, passing over the scroll of parchment he had promised him the day before. "Signed and sealed by the Wizengamot. And apparently somewhere above coming here tonight to become your Secret-Keeper. Both favours you requested, I'll remind you."
Potter took the scroll calmly. "This is different," he said, gesturing with the roll of parchment granting him impunity. "The Ministry has brokered deals with criminals in exchange for testimony hundreds of times in the past—look at Karkaroff who walked free at the end of the First War after flipping on the Death Eaters. And you're here tonight performing the Fidelius Charm because you're my friend. Not because you're Minister of Magic. There's a difference to that kind of favour."
Kingsley sighed. "I just thought it would be better if you actually arrived at the Ministry in a legal fashion on Monday."
"I get it," Potter acknowledged. "And I am grateful. Just… I want to be able to do things for myself." He said this casually enough, but then his tone changed. "And Kingsley, be careful. You're in politics, now." He said the word 'politics' like it was something distasteful on the bottom of one's shoe. "People will be looking for you to mess up. And favours to friends is historically a messy road to go down for any politician. You're too nice for politics; they're going to eat you alive if you let them."
There was silence for a moment as they took this in. Gawain had to acknowledge that he had a point. Then Potter sighed. "Anyway. I'll take it," he gestured with the Apparition card. "Just think on it. I should be getting to the Burrow before they all go to bed. Thank you," he said earnestly to Kingsley. "For everything."
"Of course. We should go too," said Kingsley. His calm demeanour made him hard to read at times, but Gawain thought he seemed a bit put out. This was not the reaction he had expected. Vaguely, Gawain wondered if he had any hope of figuring out this boy when clearly Kingsley, who had known him for years now, still had a hard time knowing what to expect from him. "Goodnight, Harry."
"Goodnight. And thank you for your help tonight, Mr. Robards," Potter added to Gawain as they turned away and made to leave. Gawain nodded to him over his shoulder.
As the door clicked shut behind them, Gawain spared a glance to Kingsley before they Apparated away. He was standing with his hands in his pockets, looking out to the street, but his eyes were not focused on anything before him. He was frowning and chewing on his lower lip.
No. Gawain didn't suppose he'd ever have Potter figured out.
A/N (26.12.2020): Wishing you all a lovely holiday season and Merry Everything. A bit of a slow chapter, I know, but I thought it was high time you got to know Mary a bit. To our healthcare workers, especially those who have been on the frontlines during this crazy pandemic, thank you for all you do. You are so very amazing. Those outside of the field can never know the pain or exhaustion associated with burn-out. I hope you have a more reliable support system at home than Mary has in Gawain. He does try, poor man. But he really is quite oblivious sometimes…