Chapter 6: The Ministry
Monday morning found Gawain lounging against a pillar in the Atrium of the Ministry in a spot that afforded a good view and access to the Apparition Zone. He stood casually, flipping through the newspaper he had just purchased at the news kiosk, trying to blend in and not draw attention to the fact that this was not his normal routine. Fortunately, Gawain had always been quite good at avoiding attention, and few people spared him a second glance as they hurried on their way to their respective offices and meetings.
There was the normal hustle and bustle of people this morning, some arriving by floo, some by Apparition, some through the Visitor's Entrance. He glanced around over the top of his paper while turning the page, casually doing a sweep of the area. His eyes fell on the security desk where three officers of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol were lounging and chatting and laughing with the two Watchwizards on duty. One of the Watchwizards was seated in a chair reclining back on the two hind legs; two of the Patrol were half-seated, half-leaning on the desk. Their attention was fully on their conversation, and they looked altogether too lax. And not in the intentionally casual way that Gawain had adopted. In the negligent, need-to-do-their-damn-jobs sort of way.
Gawain stared deliberately at the desk, his face set in a stern glower, until one of the officers happened to glance his way and meet his eye. Whatever expression was on his face must have been effective, because the man's back immediately straightened, he whispered something to his companions, and the two suspended chair legs of the lounging guard met the floor with a clack that was audible across the room even through the morning bustle. They all jumped to their feet. As Gawain watched them, one woman nodded to the others and the three Patrol officers started to make their circuit of the perimeter; the others busied themselves with whatever work was in front of them, suddenly looking very official.
Satisfied, Gawain turned his attention back to the Apparition Zone. The Patrol knew something was up today. They had been told to station extra officers on the floor in preparation for a potential high-risk situation. They had not been told what or whom to expect, but Gawain had heard tell they had a pool going. He was sure at least a couple of them would have guessed correctly and would be taking home a few Sickles.
When Potter did arrive, it was with little show or fanfare. On the contrary, had Gawain been paying any less attention, he thought he might have missed him. In part, this was due to a change in his appearance and in part due to his demeanour.
Potter had had his hair trimmed since Gawain had last seen him just two nights prior. The back and sides were cropped neatly short, but he had kept the top quite long and messy with a fringe that kept falling in his eyes. Abruptly, Gawain realised it also was quite effectively covering the scar on his forehead, something he suspected was intentional. Potter looked younger with his long hair cut short—much more his true seventeen year-old age. He was dressed simply in a pair of dark coloured trousers and a flannel shirt with the top button popped. They were clean and less travel-worn than most the clothes Gawain had seen him in to date, but certainly far from formal business-wear. Taking in the outfit, Gawain couldn't help but smile. Perhaps he was imagining it, but he thought the choice was a deliberate announcement to the Wizengamot, 'I don't work for you. I don't dress up for you.'
The other reason he might have missed Potter was simply his self-assured attitude. When the boy Apparated in, he scarcely took two seconds to glance around and get his bearings before he was walking fast and confidently in the direction of the security desk. He looked for all the world as though he came here every day and knew just where he was going. Gawain lengthened his stride as he moved out from his position just behind the Apparition Zone to fall into step beside him.
Potter looked over his shoulder as Gawain approached. Gawain noted that Potter's right hand was in his pocket, and he saw the muscles of his forearm tense as he sensed Gawain's arrival behind him. Gawain felt quite confident that hand was curling around a wand. But upon recognising Gawain, Potter relaxed and offered him a smile in greeting. All this occurred without a single falter in his footsteps.
"Aren't you a little over-qualified to be babysitting me all the time, Mr. Robards?" he asked, his tone pleasant and that crooked grin splitting his face.
"The Minister thought it might be less alarming to you to have an escort you had met before," he explained.
"Or he worried I might snap again and scare off whichever poor Auror you might have otherwise asked to come and fetch me," Potter said with a wry grin.
"That may have been a consideration too," Gawain acknowledged, his cheek twitching into a small, unbidden smile. His eyes were roving around the Atrium, looking for potential threats, but he did catch Potter glancing at him with a slightly surprised expression before barking out a laugh. Why were people always startled to find out that Gawain had a sense of humour?
As they reached the centre of the hall, they skirted around a large circle of rubble— all that remained of the Magic is Might statue. Kingsley had insisted it be dismantled almost immediately after taking office. The area had been barricaded off to prevent anyone from tripping on the rough terrain until a replacement was installed.
"Glad to see that horrid statue gone," Potter noted. Gawain spared half a glance at the debris before returning to his survey of the Atrium and everyone in it. "Any idea what they'll put in in its place?" Potter asked conversationally.
"I think I heard mention of some committee who are sketching out a few replacement options," Gawain said distractedly. Always the pragmatist, Gawain had not paid much attention to the discussion. "But I haven't been following it. Can't say I have much of an eye for art."
"Nor I," Potter admitted. "But whatever they come up with, it can't be any worse, can it?"
The pace Potter set was quick as they passed across the Atrium to approach the security desk with little time for additional conversation. Gawain rather thought Potter was just eager to get this whole thing over with. Gawain, on the other hand, was eager to get Potter down to the courtrooms where it would be easier to maintain security than here in the crowded Atrium. A quick stride supported both of their goals. Still, as he kept pace with Potter, he found himself wondering who was leading whom.
They reached the security desk, and Potter approached one of the Watchwizards on duty. The man looked up from his work; his eyes first landing on Gawain and widening in apprehension, then they turned to Potter. Gawain didn't think his eyes could have widened further, but he was proven wrong.
Without waiting to be asked, Potter turned his wand with nimble fingers, proffering it to the Watchwizard handle first. When the Watchwizard did nothing but stare at him open-mouthed, Potter politely prompted, "I believe you'll be needing this?"
"I…er… yes… that is…" The Watchwizard gave an alarmed glance at Gawain before taking the wand and hurriedly placing it on the Wand Scale, looking down at the instrument with a rather dim-witted expression on his face. Then the man's eyes seemed to rise unbidden again to Potter, and he was back to his staring as the brass machine buzzed and vibrated. Consciously or otherwise, Gawain noted Potter's hand go up to flatten the fringe over his forehead. Gawain almost laughed at the futility of it. Surely the lad didn't actually think that was enough to render him unrecognisable.
Gawain glanced at the other Watchwizard, the one who had previously been lounging in his seat when Gawain had glared at them from across the room. This man was also staring open-mouthed at Potter. "Well?" Gawain asked him. "This is a visitor to the Ministry. Are you not required to scan him?" The man tripped over his chair as he grabbed for the Probity Probe and came around the desk. Then he hesitated, his eyes darting between Gawain and Potter. He wiped sweaty palms on his peacock blue robes but made no attempt to approach Potter further. He seemed frozen in indecision as though questioning if it would be disrespectful to scan a war hero for concealment charms. Potter merely looked at him, waiting patiently.
"Oh, for goodness sake. Give it to me." Gawain snatched the Probity Probe from the Watchwizard's limp fingers impatiently and ran it up and down Potter's front and back. He didn't have time for all this standing around and gaping. The quicker he got Potter into the lifts and out of the Atrium the better. He was catching more and more people peeking in their direction and whispering. He saw Potter glance at him and his cheek twitched in a hastily hidden smile at Gawain's reaction. He almost flushed in embarrassment before reminding himself that it really didn't matter if Potter thought him impatient and tetchy.
"You've been through all this before," Gawain half asked, half observed. His scan complete, Gawain passed the Probe back to the Watchwizard who scurried back behind the desk.
"Once. Wish I hadn't." Gawain looked at him questioningly. Potter smiled. "Three years ago. I was summoned to a disciplinary hearing by the Wizengamot for conducting under-aged magic in the presence of a Muggle. Not a fond memory." Gawain remembered hearing mention of it. By all reports, Fudge had been quite infuriated that the Wizengamot had not voted to convict the boy.
At this moment, they both glanced over as a strip of parchment whizzed out from the slit at the base of the Wand Scale. Both Potter and Gawain stared at it for a moment, waiting for the first Watchwizard to tear it off and read the contents. When he made no move to do so, clearly too distracted by his present task of gaping openly, Potter politely cleared his throat and said, "If you're quite finished with my wand, we really must be going."
The Watchwizard jumped and dove for the strip of paper, clearly flustered. "Er… eleven inches… er…"
"Phoenix core, yes that's the one," Potter completed for him.
"Er… right… Been in use… seven years…?"
"Yes, thank you," said Potter, deliberately reaching out for his wand.
The Watchwizard looked down at the wand in his hand. Then, very slowly, almost as if it pained him, he reached out to pass the wand back to Potter. He set it in Potter's open hand reverently. Potter took it back and pocketed it with a speed that was jarring by comparison.
"Have a good day," he said politely, nodding to each of the Watchwizards in turn. Then he turned on his heal, and made toward the golden gate that led to the lifts.
"Can I just ask," the Watchwizard called after him before he had made it even a step. Potter paused and turned back to him warily. "Was… was that the wand that did it?" he spluttered, finally having plucked up some courage to speak.
"Did what, exactly?" asked Potter politely.
"Did I just hold the wand that killed You-Know-Who?"
"Ah," said Potter. "No, afraid not. Sorry to disappoint. Good morning." And he walked away, effectively cutting off the conversation. As Gawain followed suit, he spared the poor shell-shocked Watchwizard one pitying glance back over his shoulder. He watched as the man speared the piece of parchment on its designated brass spike with a disappointed look on his face. The other Watchwizard was leaning in to whisper something excitedly.
"I remember talk about your disciplinary hearing," Gawain commented after a few steps, continuing their previous conversation. "I recall Amelia Bones being quite disturbed by the whole thing." Potter looked at him curiously.
"Oh?" he asked.
"I remember her talking with Rufus Scrimgeour about it— he was Head of the Auror Office back then, of course. And my direct superior. I gathered they were worried about why Fudge was so clearly targeting you. In some ways, I think that was a tipping point where some people started to question what Fudge was trying to cover up. The pair of them went on to be two of the most outspoken in demanding he step down the following year. Had she not been assassinated first, I would think it would have been Bones who had become Minister instead of Rufus."
Potter's quick steps had faltered. He turned to look at Gawain with a frown. What had he said that was so surprising?
"Huh," he said contemplatively. Then continued his walk, slightly slower, now he was in deep thought. "Hard to imagine Scrimgeour rushing toward my defence. But I suppose it would be easier for him to do it then, having not actually met me yet."
"I don't follow," said Gawain, confused by the comment.
"Well, if he'd actually met me at that point, he would have already known how much we hated each other and he wouldn't have bothered, would he?"
Gawain was not sure how to respond to this. Again he thought back to Rufus's rants about 'the stubborn pig-headed Potter boy.' Potter glanced at his uneasy expression and barked out a laugh. "It's alright Mr. Robards. You don't have to spare my feelings. I know he hated me. We were both quite honest about our opinions of the other.
"Still…" Potter continued, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I can respect that Scrimgeour had the decency not to lie about it as he tried to use me. He was very upfront and honest about it. Unlike Fudge who spent four years acting like my friendly uncle before unceremoniously throwing me to the wolves the minute I said one thing he didn't like. So Scrimgeour was definitely a step up there. Mind you, I still hate that he didn't just give me up to the Death Eaters when they were torturing him. I don't know if I can ever forgive him for that… It would have been so much easier to just go on hating him in peace if he had."
Gawain took a moment to process this, thinking of Potter's complicated history with Rufus Scrimgeour and Cornelius Fudge and the whole of the Ministry. "I suppose I can appreciate why you'd not be eager to work for the Ministry after all of that," he said, half to himself.
Potter froze mid-step and looked at him. "Who said anything about me working for the Ministry?"
Gawain shifted uncomfortably, turning to look at him where he stood in the centre of the Atrium, halfway to the golden gates. It had been a thoughtless comment and now he had well and truly dug himself into a hole. The expression Potter was giving him was surely exactly what Kingsley had been trying to avoid in nudging Potter in the direction of Ministry employment. No, Kingsley would not approve of this conversation topic.
Gawain swallowed, hesitating a moment. Ah well, may as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg. Potter did say he respected Scrimgeour for being upfront. "Well, everybody, really. They're just saying it behind your back."
Potter's jaw was open as he stared at Gawain incredulously. He looked away for a moment, glancing around the room but not really seeing it, his face still shocked. Then he looked back to Gawain. "Including Kingsley?"
"Well… Kingsley has been pretty adamant that he wants you to come to your own decisions."
"And exactly what job am I meant to be taking at the Ministry?" There was a dangerous undercurrent to his tone.
Gawain shrugged. "Honestly, I think you'd have your pick of any department you like. Every department would jump to have you join their team."
Potter frowned at him for a moment in silence. Gawain saw a muscle twitching in his jaw. "Including yours?" he asked abruptly.
Gawain was completely taken aback by the question. He blinked. "I… yes, to be sure… Mind you… I imagine Scrimgeour's previous suggestion that you work under me might have left a bad taste in your mouth." He was trying to neither close this door, nor make Potter feel he was too keen on the idea. But at the same time, he was not at all sure that Potter wasn't testing him somehow. Of course, he had absolutely no idea what the test may be. Gawain struggled to think how to backtrack out of this conversation. Damn, but he should have listened to Kingsley and not brought it up. This exchange felt like crossing a minefield.
There was silence for a moment. They stared at each other. Potter still frowning and chewing on the inside of his cheek, not saying a word. Gawain could not read his expression. Then finally, Potter made a grunt in the back of his throat and started walking again.
"Maybe so," Potter replied noncommittally. The tenseness to his shoulders seemed to be loosening. "There's a difference between you and Scrimgeour, of course." Potter said then to Gawain.
"Oh? What's that?"
He turned back to Gawain and Gawain was surprised to see a small smile on his face. "Well, I actually like you." Gawain couldn't hold back a small huff of a flattered if nervous laugh. Potter's grin widened.
It was at this moment that a bright flash of light blasted each of them in the face. Gawain was half-blinded by it, but he had his wand drawn in an instant. But the flash was not a spell. It was a camera.
"Look this way for the Daily Prophet, Mr. Potter," a small mousy man was saying from behind the camera. Potter grimaced, did anything but 'look this way,' and his hand came up again to flatten his fringe as the bulb flashed again. Probably not the photo the reporter was hoping for.
Gawain kicked himself internally. He'd been too distracted by their conversation; he should have noticed the reporter approaching. All around the Atrium, people were staring and whispering and craning their heads for a look at Potter now. Gawain put a hand on Potter's shoulder and quickened the pace, guiding him toward the golden gate that led to the lifts. "Ignore him and keep walking," he murmured in Potter's ear.
The reporter followed them as they went with a constant stream of loudly called questions which was drawing even more attention. "Graham Haversham, Mr. Potter! Any comment on the events at Hogwarts last week! Our office has been trying to reach you to arrange an interview, but no one seemed to know where you've been. What have you been doing since the Battle? Is there truth to the rumours that you were severely injured? What brings you to the Ministry? Will you be accepting employment here? What do you have to say to reports that—" The questions were coming so fast, Gawain couldn't help but wonder if he would have had better luck actually waiting for a response for once.
The secret was well and truly out now. The crowds had gathered. All around them were people pushing and shoving to try to get a look at the Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. They had known this reaction was likely. Still Gawain had rather hoped they would have been able to get in without too many people noticing them.
Gawain and Potter kept moving, their strides long. Gawain kept tight to Potter's elbow, his left hand on the boy's shoulder steering him; they were almost to the gate. His right hand held a tight grip on his wand, always at the ready for any attack. He was grateful the boy knew how to move.
"It's Harry Potter! Merlin's beard, it really is him!"
"Harry! Harry! Over here!"
"Great fan, Mr. Potter!"
"Can I have your autograph?"
Potter kept his head down, an uncomfortable expression on his face. He didn't acknowledge any of the admirers flocking about him. Gawain couldn't help but notice the stark contrast of his reaction to people here from his reaction to the people at Hogwarts.
The only benefit the crowd offered was that the throng had buffeted the Daily Prophet reporter back enough that his incessant questions were drowned out, though the flashes from his camera persisted distractingly. Gawain felt Potter's shoulder muscles growing tenser and tenser under his hand. He noted Potter kept his right hand in his pocket, Gawain was sure it was gripped around a wand again. He was pleased to see it. The Auror kept his eyes roaming the crowd, looking for any potential threats, but the incessant flashes from the camera kept making him blink.
After being pushed further back by the crowd, Haversham, the Daily Prophet reporter, seemed to give up on this tactic, and Gawain saw him circling around the back of the horde and climbing up onto the open golden gates separating the Atrium from the lifts just ahead. A moment later, he had perched himself precariously where he could take photos from above the heads of Potter's many admirers. They had no choice but to walk directly towards him.
The Magical Law Enforcement Patrol had arrived, half a dozen of them. About bloody time, Gawain thought. They were pushing the horde back, parting a way toward the lifts for them. Gawain's eye met with Preston Proudfoot who had been stationed near the lifts. He nodded to Gawain, indicating that he was ready to shepherd them onto a lift as soon as they reached him. Gawain glanced at Potter and caught a look of relief on the lad's face as he saw the lifts just ten metres ahead.
Potter glanced back over his shoulder at Gawain and their eyes met for a fraction of a second. Then, as Gawain watched, Potter's focus seemed to slide from Gawain to something over his right shoulder, and the boy's eyes widened.
"Look out!"
Gawain scarcely had time to look around, before he saw Potter's wand was drawn, and he was shouting, "Protego!" The jinx ricocheted off Potter's Shield Charm and collided with the dark wood panelling on the far wall to their right. Sparks and shards of wood splintered off and rained down to the ground.
And abruptly the excited hails and cheers turned to terrified screams. Gawain lunged for Potter to knock him down and out of the way at the same time that Potter lunged for Gawain to do the same to him. The result was that Gawain received a split lip where it collided with Potter's skull and that they both landed in an undignified heap on the ground, Gawain largely on top of Potter. He heard the breath escape Potter's lungs in a whoosh as Gawain's weight fell on his chest.
Gawain recovered quickly, however. Stumbling to his feet, he wrapped his left arm around Potter's chest from behind, dragging him toward the relative protection just inside the gate. Potter stumbled backward as Gawain dragged him, struggling to get to his feet as Gawain's momentum carried them through the gates. Gawain glanced over his shoulder and could just make out the Patrol baring down on a figure across the hall and more shots fired.
Rounding the corner, Gawain slammed Potter against the gate pillar much harder than he intended, but he had no time to feel guilty about it. The boy groaned as his back made contact with the hard wall. Gawain pushed the boy down with a hand on the crown of his head. Dimly, he was aware of a splutter of protest from Potter, but Gawain paid him no mind. It was his job to keep the boy alive, not cater to his dignity. Using his body as an additional shield, Gawain peered out from around the corner, his wand ready. There was commotion in the direction of the attacker, but he could not make out much through the running and screaming and cowering throng. Potter still had his wand out from where he was seated on the ground, his back against the pillar. The boy made to peek out from around the wall, but Gawain shoved him back again.
"The Patrol's got him!" came a voice from just behind Gawain. Proudfoot had joined them.
"There may be more," Gawain ground out. "Onto the lifts!" And he was on his feet. His fingers wrapped around Potter's upper arm, dragging him up and over to the lifts.
"OUT OF THE WAY!" Gawain roared, pushing his way through the crowd of witches and wizards who had been waiting to board a lift, now all crouching and jostling and screaming. Gawain felt rather than saw Proudfoot moving backwards behind him, back-to-back in tight formation as they were well trained to do.
Potter, meanwhile was being dragged along beside Gawain, and he was vaguely aware of the boy protesting. "I am quite capable of walking on my own!" he called. Gawain ignored him. The grate over the nearest lift opened opportunely. A witch and wizard both moved to exit the lift then froze looking utterly shocked at the scene before them. Gawain had no time to wait for them to make up their mind. He half bowled them over as he threw himself inside. Then Gawain all but flung Potter in after them, slamming him against the back of the lift. Proudfoot slid in after, jabbing the number two button. The doors clanged shut behind them and the lift began to ascend.
There was silence in the lift for a moment as it rose. All that could be heard were the three men gasping to catch their breath.
"Bloody hell. That didn't go as we hoped," said Proudfoot at last.
Gawain said nothing. He was too busy stewing in self-disgust. This had all come down to his own carelessness. He had been too drawn into his conversation with Potter to have taken notice of the threat.
"Hardly unexpected, mind," Potter commented, grimacing and rubbing his back where Gawain had managed to slam him not once, not twice, but three times into hard surfaces.
"Probably true," Proudfoot said. It was only then that he turned to survey Potter curiously. "Preston Proudfoot," he introduced himself, holding out his right hand to Potter while his left pushed his horn-rimmed spectacles up his nose. "Auror."
Potter shook it. "Harry," he replied unnecessarily. "Yes, I think I remember you. From Hogwarts. Last year." Proudfoot nodded, looking rather pleasantly surprised that Harry Potter should remember him.
Potter looked around in confusion suddenly. "Why are we going up? We're meant to be going down to—"
"Change of plans," Gawain snapped, cutting him off. "We've been compromised."
"Compromised?" Potter said incredulously. "I think that's being a little over—"
But Gawain did not let him finish the thought. He was already turning to Proudfoot. "When we get back up, I'll establish communication with the Minister. Tell him what's happened."
"Mr. Robards," Potter said. Gawain ignored him and kept talking to Proudfoot who was throwing distracted glances in Potter's direction as the boy attempted to speak. Damn it man, focus.
"And I want you in contact with the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol. I want a full report."
"Mr. Robards—"
"I want to know who the hell that bastard was, and who he's working for."
"Mr. Robards, I really—"
"And I want to know how the hell neither the Watchwizards nor the Patrol spotted him."
"Mr. Robards!"
"WHAT?" He snapped, turning to Potter.
Potter looked at him for a moment, his expression hard. Then he took in a deep breath and let it out before responding, very calmly, "You're hurting me."
Gawain frowned, confused. Potter glanced down at his arm deliberately, then back to Gawain, his eyebrows raised. Gawain followed his gaze. He was quite surprised to see his own hand was still clenching like a vice around Potter's upper arm. He stared at his hand for a moment as though he didn't recognise it before he released his grip. His fingers felt cramped and they screamed as blood rushed back into them. He flexed and stretched them a few times to loosen them.
"Thank you," said Potter his face utterly blank and calm.
At this moment, the lift shuddered to a halt far too soon to have reached level two. The cool female voice announced, "Level six, Department of Magical Transport..." Gawain and Proudfooot both had their wands out and pointing toward the lift entrance as the grille clattered open. On the other side of the doors, poor Martha Edgecombe glanced up from a memo she was reading to find herself with two wands pointed directly at her face.
"Not this lift. Take the next one," Gawain barked at her. She nodded wide-eyed as the grille slid shut again.
No one spoke for a moment as the lift clanked into motion again, and Gawain and Proudfoot lowered their wands.
A slight whimper from the corner drew Potter's eyes over to the witch and wizard who were still cowering against the opposite wall of the lift. "I expect you were trying to get off at the Atrium. So sorry for the inconvenience," he offered them a polite apologetic smile. Gawain grunted. He didn't much care about inconvenience.
At long last, the lift clattered to a halt again and the voice announced "Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement…"
"Off," Gawain snapped at Potter ushering him out of the lift, Proudfoot close behind. They left the witch and wizard on the lift, each exchanging glances as though they really didn't know what to do from there. It mattered little to Gawain what they chose to do from there.
The three of them rounded the corner down the corridor at a brisk pace and Gawain pushed through the heavy oak doors into the Auror headquarters first. The room was buzzing with talk and laughter and memos were zooming in and out.
"Savage!" Gawain barked at the nearest Auror. Marina Savage, a witch in her mid-thirties with one side of her head shaved, one side cropped in a chin-length bob, jumped at her name and scrambled to her feet. All the other Aurors looked around too. They all knew Gawain only called them by last name when he meant business.
"Wand out. Guard the door. No one in or out without my say so. We're in lockdown." Savage started to nod dutifully but then became distracted as she caught sight of Potter. One straight brow arched in a sharp triangle, and she ran a distracted hand across the shaved half of her head. "Was I unclear?" Gawain snapped.
"No, sir! I mean, yes, sir. Right away!" And she rushed over to the door, her wand at the ready.
Gawain had the eyes of the whole of the Auror Office on him now. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say Potter did.
"Mr. Robards, I really don't think this is necessary," Potter said, shifting uncomfortably under the gaze of all of the Aurors on duty.
"We have protocols, Potter. Now let me do my job."
"I understand, it's just…" but Gawain wasn't listening. He reached over and took Potter by the arm to lead him across the room to his office. But this time, Potter did not move. His heels dug in, Gawain couldn't budge him. He looked back at him furiously. Potter met his gaze unflinchingly. Then looked deliberately to Gawain's hand, then back to his face.
"As I said before. I am quite capable of walking without assistance, thank you." He said it politely, but sternly.
Gawain sighed, removed his hand, then turned away. "Come on then. Willamson! With me." Williamson tossed his long ponytail over his shoulder as he leapt out of his cubicle and over to Gawain who was crossing the floor to his office. Proudfoot broke off, collecting a few other Aurors and filling them in and beginning arrangements to call on the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol.
Gawain pulled open the door to his office and crossed over to his desk. "Have a seat, Potter," he said, gesturing to a chair and not looking up as he hunted for a quill and a stack of the spelled paper used for interdepartmental memos.
"I'd rather stand," replied Potter, leaning against the doorframe just inside the office.
"Suit yourself. You," he called to Williamson. "Don't let him out of your sight." The Auror nodded and took up a post just outside the open door.
Potter glanced over his shoulder at Williamson and sighed. "Honestly, Mr. Robards. This all feels quite excessive."
"Someone just attempted to assassinate you on Ministry property, Potter," said Gawain distractedly, finally retrieving the purple paper he was looking for. He stood and leaned over his desk, not bothering to sit down as he scribbled a note to Kingsley. He kept it short and to the point.
Assassination attempt in Atrium.
Target unharmed. AO locked down.
Arrival delayed. Please advise.
"Yes, I'm quite aware of that," replied Potter. "But he's already been taken into custody."
Gawain tapped the note with his wand and it folded itself neatly into an airplane. He sealed it and gave it a quick stamp with the word CONFIDENTIAL over the wings before flicking it again. The paper airplane shot off in the direction of the lifts.
"There may very well be more of them," Gawain responded impatiently. He was not used to having to explain himself. "Your arrival may have been leaked. We have protocols for a reason." Internally, Gawain was still berating himself. How could he have let himself become so distracted? Why did this boy keep surprising Gawain so much as to make him completely lose his senses?
"I really think he was working alone," Potter was saying reasonably. "The whole thing was way too sloppy. It wasn't planned."
Gawain brushed passed him as he moved out of the office and over to Martin's desk.
"We can't count on that, Potter." Gawain responded, not looking at the boy. "Martins. Take two others and go down to the Atrium. Make sure it's been suitably secured and that the Patrol are doing their damn jobs properly." Martins nodded hurriedly and gestured to two others.
"Fine. So what happens next in your protocols?" Potter asked. Honestly, he sounded… bored! Did the boy not realise someone had just tried to kill him?
"We wait for instruction from the Minister, first off. We'll need to review the security breach." Gawain moved over to Proudfoot's desk. He rifled through the papers on the desk, looking for the plan they had drawn up to show where people should be stationed at the time of Potter's arrival. He wanted to figure out what had fallen through. "Likely we'll postpone your hearing for another day. Until we can better assess the risks."
Potter spluttered. "Postpone the hearing? You can't be serious!"
"Is that so disappointing? I thought you didn't want to do it anyway." Bloody hell, Proudfoot's desk was a total mess. Did the man have any organisational system whatsoever?
"I don't! But neither do I want to have to come back and do all this again another day! That's just going to be even more risky. I'm already here. The risk has passed. I just want to—"
"We don't know that the risk has passed," Gawain interrupted. Finally, here it is. He pulled out the parchment from under three casefiles and a mug of cold tea. "There may well still be someone else in this building who wants you dead."
"Of course there's someone else in this building who wants me dead," Potter said exasperatedly. "Probably multiple someones. Possibly even in this very room." Several of the Aurors in the room glanced around at each other at that comment.
Gawain turned angrily to face the boy, at last looking him in the eye. "Just what are you insinuating? Are you accusing me—"
"What? No! That's not what I'm saying at all," Potter cut him off. "I'm merely saying that going grocery shopping is risky when you're me. Of course walking into the Ministry was always going to be dicey. All the more reason that cancelling now and coming back another day is completely mental!"
"That's not up to you, Potter!" Gawain roared back. He did not appreciate the word 'mental.' He did not appreciate the lack of trust for himself and his colleagues. He did not appreciate Potter's flippant attitude. He did not appreciate that this boy tended to throw him so much through a loop that Gawain seemed to forget to do his damn job!
Potter spluttered a sound of indignation. But then he took in Gawain's infuriated expression. And as Gawain watched, Potter visibly and deliberately calmed himself. He slumped against the door frame again, arms crossed, staring off at the far wall, clearly struggling to contain the objections he no doubt wished to voice.
Gawain deflated and sighed. "I understand your frustration," he offered as gently as he could manage through his own annoyance. "I know what you're thinking. But these protocols exist to keep you safe."
Potter grimaced. But then he sighed too, and Gawain watched the fight melt off the boy's face. "Actually, what I was just thinking was that I really must have the name of your interior decorator."
Gawain blinked, completely flummoxed by the comment. "What?"
Potter gave Gawain a small smile and nodded at the far wall he had been staring at. Gawain followed his gaze, frowning, and found himself looking into… Potter's face again. This time glaring down at him from a large Undesirable No. 1 poster.
It took a moment to register. Then Gawain let out a small laugh, closing his eyes in mild embarrassment. He reached up and scratched his forehead as he turned back to Potter. "Sorry about that… I guess we haven't exactly gotten around to taking them all down. It's been a bit busy this past week…"
Potter smiled. "Can't imagine why," he said good-naturedly. There were some chuckles from around the room, all of course, from Aurors who were busy at work and not eavesdropping on conversations that did not concern them. Gawain glared around the room at large.
Potter let out a shy little laugh before sobering. "Listen," he said reasonably. "I saw that bloke in the Atrium. I honestly think he was just acting on impulse. He saw me. He wanted his chance at glory. He took a shot. I honestly don't think this is some big plot. If my arrival time had been leaked, you can believe the Death Eaters would have come up with something a whole lot tidier than that.
Gawain sighed. "That's as may be…" he began.
There was a commotion over by the door. Gawain drew his wand and spun. Savage had her wand drawn on Ben.
"Bloody hell! It's only me! Kingsley sent me to find out what's going on."
Savage glanced over to Gawain. He nodded to her and pocketed his wand. Ben loped over.
"Alright, Harry?" he greeted Potter. "Someone tried to kill you? Not hurt are you?"
"Only my feelings," Potter replied with a theatrical sigh of tragedy. This garnered another laugh from around the room.
"Understandably so! More than a little offensive, I should think," replied Ben good-naturedly. He ruffled his blond hair and perched himself on the corner of Martin's desk across from where Potter was still leaning against the doorframe, then helped himself to a bowl of almonds that Martins had left there.
"While I'm very glad that you both seem to find this so funny…" Gawain began.
"Aw, com'on. Lighten up, Gawain. He's fine!" Ben said still chewing an almond.
"This isn't a laughing matter! An assassination attempt in the Ministry Atrium is entirely unprecedented!"
"Yeah, well," sighed Potter. "You'll find a lot of things pertaining to me are unprecedented."
Gawain ground his teeth in frustration. His anger which Potter had so effectively diffused a moment before was raring back up again. "What news from the Minister?" he asked Ben, electing to ignore Potter's comment.
Ben tossed another almond up into the air and caught it in his mouth before answering. For the love of Merlin, he was surrounded by children. "He says it's your call. He's prepared to cancel the hearing today, if you think that it's best to evacuate Harry."
"Oh, for God's sake. That's completely unnecessary," Potter ground out, tossing his head back and staring at the ceiling in exasperation.
Gawain was about to retort angrily, but at this point, Proudfoot returned. Savage stepped aside to let him through as Gawain snapped, "Well?"
Proudfoot glanced around the room, clearly taking note of Gawain's mood. He adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses. "Spoke with Officer Gardner. He's still interrogating the prisoner. Said he'll come up and give you a full report when he's done. But preliminary intel is that he's just some pure-blood mania nut-job. The name's Isaac Flint. Bit of a nobody from down in the Ludicrous Patents Office. They don't think he has any proper ties to the Death Eaters. Seems to have been acting alone. Saw an opportunity and took it."
"What a surprise. Whoever might have guessed," said Potter sarcastically. He turned his gaze toward Gawain, looking at him expectantly. Gawain returned the look with a glower.
Potter sighed. "Look. We can't cancel this hearing," Potter entreated. "Don't make me do this all again. I already got my picture on the front page of tomorrow's Daily Prophet for this—something I really really hate. Don't let that sacrifice be in vain."
Gawain was losing his temper. For Merlin's sake, could the boy just take this seriously, even for a moment! Someone had just tried to kill him, and he was acting like it had been a mild inconvenience! He rounded on the boy. "Mr. Potter, you do know I have been an Auror for two and a half decades. I do, in fact, have quite a bit of experience in Ministry security and in assassination attempts," Gawain interrupted the boy's objections. Several of the Aurors around them shifted uncomfortably. Proudfoot was looking between the two of them, clearly trying to determine what he'd missed. "Perhaps you should respect my expertise in this matter."
Potter considered him for a moment, chewing on his lower lip. He met Gawain's eye steadily. All of the Aurors in the room were watching them blatantly, no longer pretending to work on other things. All waiting to see how Potter would respond. Most looked nervous; they knew when Gawain was on the warpath. "Mr. Robards," said Potter after a moment. "I mean no disrespect. I assure you I have nothing but admiration for your many years of experience in this field." His tone was polite and reverent. Gawain was immediately suspicious of it. Rightfully so, it proved, as the boy continued. "However. Perhaps you can acknowledge that I myself have a certain amount of expertise in the field of assassination attempts against Harry Potter, having survived more than a few of them over the past few years."
They stared each other down in silence for a brief moment. Every pair of eyes in the room was fixed on the two of them. When Gawain didn't speak, Potter went on. "So… As I'm quite confident I am in no greater danger now than I would be on any other day, I'm going to go on down to the courtroom as planned. Since I am quite capable of finding my own way, you are in no way obligated to follow. But if you would like to keep me safe," he shrugged, "then I guess you're just going to have to come along."
Gawain felt his jaw drop as Potter turned on his heel and marched away from him. Williamson stared back and forth between them, clearly at a loss as to whether he should follow. Ben snorted a laugh. Gawain turned sharply to scowl at him. "What? He's funny!" was the only defence Ben gave.
After a moment of spluttering, Gawain found his voice. "Potter, get back here!" Gawain called after him. The boy did not respond nor slow in his confident march toward the oak doors. Savage blocked his way for just a moment, but Potter met her eye with an unflinching gaze. Her eyes drifted from his face to Gawain's, and she gave Gawain a small shrug of apology before moving out of Potter's way.
Gawain heard another snicker from his left, and Gawain turned his fury toward Ben. "I'm just gonna… go with him… shall I?" said Ben, licking his lips nervously. "Kingsley would want…" He trailed off and rushed after Potter.
Gawain stood for a fraction of a second in shock. People did not disobey him. It just wasn't done. "Potter!" Gawain called again. His feet carried him out to the corridor. He glared at Savage as he passed her.
"I'm sorry," she spluttered. "But I am not going to find myself with a wrongful detainment charge! And against Harry Potter of all people!"
Gawain grumbled internally. Could he count on no one? "Potter!" he called again staring after the retreating back. Potter, of course, still completely ignored him. Gawain watched as Potter jabbed the button for the lift. It dinged open and he boarded, Ben close on his heels. He saw the pair on them lean against the back of the lift and turn toward each other in friendly conversation.
Gawain's teeth were grinding together so hard he was getting a headache. He took a deep breath in through his nose, swallowing his pride, and moved forward. The grille was sliding shut.
Just at the last moment, Gawain swung out his arm and blocked the doors from closing. Potter and Ben looked over at him expectantly, breaking off their conversation. Potter had a pleasantly welcoming expression on his face. Git. Gawain fixed his gaze somewhere over the boy's head, raising his chin and not meeting either of their eyes. He took in a deep calming breath, then stepped onto the lift, turned around, and leaned against the back wall between the two. Down the corridor, he saw several faces peeking out of the Auror Office curiously as the grille slid shut again.
There was silence for a moment as the lift shuddered into motion heading down. Gawain was stewing. The insolence. Then he caught a snicker to his right. Slowly, he turned his head to glower at Ben. Most unfortunately, this just made Ben laugh harder.
And then Potter let out a choked laugh, hastily stifled. He did not meet Gawain's eye as he turned to scowl at him too. Potter ran a hand through his messy hair, his lips pressed hard together, a slight flush on his cheeks as he struggled to keep a straight face. Ben, of course, roared with laughter even harder at this. Gawain sighed in frustration. Both were being entirely ridiculous. Downright childish, the pair of them, he told himself. Then quite unbidden, a small traitorous smile lifted the corner of his mouth.
He wasn't sure when exactly his annoyance melted away. But by the time the grille slid open with a "Department of Mysteries," all three men were nearly doubled over in laughter.