Chapter 10: Well-played
Wednesday evening found Gawain in his office as expected. He was staring down at the newspaper on his desk, his head supported by his hands in exhaustion as he took in the article. After a whole day of running back and forth between the Auror Office and the courtrooms where preliminary hearings were being held, Gawain had only just found himself with enough time to look over the redacted transcript of Potter's testimony which had been released to the Daily Prophet. He blinked at it disbelievingly. There were more blacked-out lines than legible ones.
Gawain understood the conundrum—understood why Kingsley and Roslyn did not want to release information on horcruxes. But it was almost impossible to convey this narrative without discussion of the dark artefacts Potter had been hunting all year. The result was that the whole thing came across as though the Ministry had something to hide.
Gawain scanned through the response piece by Graham Haversham published in the Daily Prophet. It, of course, sung Potter's praises, applauding him for his bravery and self-sacrifice. It cried injustice for the defamation he had suffered this past year, for all the world as though just two weeks ago, it wasn't the Prophet spreading the libel. And, unsurprisingly, after noting that Potter had declined comment on the transcript release, it insinuated that the Ministry was forcing him to keep quiet on the matter. Gawain groaned internally.
True to form, Amin arrived at Gawain's office five minutes early to head to their meeting at Grimmauld Place. Gawain was glad of the distraction and of the excuse to leave the Ministry, even if it was just to go off to work somewhere else. He folded the newspaper and stuffed it in his bag along with the stack of casefiles he had set aside for the evening's discussion.
Gawain and Amin were still exchanging pleasantries as they left the Auror Office side by side. They had not even made it to the lifts, when a voice hailed them.
"Oi! Wait up!" They both turned to see Ben rushing after them, only one arm successfully through the sleeve of his cloak and struggling to sling his bag over his shoulder while simultaneously retrieving the other sleeve.
Gawain lifted an eyebrow at him. "Need something, Harrows?"
"I'm coming too!" Ben gasped as he caught up.
Gawain's eyes narrowed. "Coming where?" he asked, though he of course knew where. Why would anyone have invited a junior Auror? He had been under the impression these meetings were meant to be secret, and that made him immediately suspicious, even of someone he knew as well as Ben. It was his job to be suspicious, after all.
"Don't play dumb, Gawain; you know where," Ben challenged. "Kingsley said I could come."
"Why would he say that? I can't see how you're needed tonight."
"I mentioned to him yesterday that I was bored of just being on protective detail all the time, but that you didn't feel I was ready for more fieldwork. So he said I could come and help out tonight."
Gawain studied him sceptically. Ben was more likely to be a distraction than a help, and Kingsley would know that. But he could also see the idea of trying to find a path to appeasement. Perhaps Kingsley saw this as a middle ground that would help Ben feel more useful without actually putting him in direct danger of injury. Kingsley did like to keep the peace.
"He said you would have to give me a lift in, since they renewed the wards," Ben added. It was this comment that finally satisfied Gawain. It was at least confirmation that Kingsley had told him to come. How else would he know that Gawain could already make it through the renewed Fidelius Charm when the rest could not?
Sometimes, Gawain wondered what he could get done in a day if he didn't always have to be so suspicious of everyone.
"Alright, come on, then." He turned and jabbed at the button to call the lift. It was only then that Gawain noticed Amin studying him with a curious expression. He had the sense not to say his thoughts aloud, however. Ben was shooting sour looks at Gawain, clearly peeved by Gawain's evident distrust. To Gawain's relief, the lift chimed and clattered open and the three of them climbed inside.
"So, looks like Election Day is officially set for August 30th," Amin said, into the awkward silence, changing the subject. Bless him. "Think Shacklebolt is ready?"
"Meh. Kingsley's got it in the bag," Ben responded, distracted from his annoyance at Gawain. He leaned cockily against the back of the lift.
"You think? I hear Guy Burgess is talking about running. He has more political experience." Gawain had heard whispers of this rumour but had not given them much credence. No one cared two shrivelfigs for what Burgess did or didn't do, after all.
"Burgess? No one in their right mind would vote for Burgess," Ben voiced Gawain's thoughts.
"He might have a following among the insomniac demographic," Gawain offered soberly. "Think how much sleep one could get listening to him talk for hours on end every time he addresses the county."
"I imagine his acceptance speech audience would look like a convention for narcoleptics," snickered Ben.
Amin smiled at their antics but continued. "But Burgess has been around far longer than Shacklebolt. You can't deny he has more experience and more connections. He's been with the Ministry for thirty years! Head of the Department of International Cooperation for three. And before that Ambassador to France. He's got more friends in high places. You don't think he may pose a real threat if he decides to run?" Amin asked.
"Kingsley's a war hero. He's actively protected this country as an Auror for twenty years. He was out fighting at the Battle of Hogwarts while Burgess was tucked up in his bed. And Kingsley's been faithfully serving the country as Acting Minister of Magic since. No one's done more for this country than he has," Gawain said, earnestly this time. "The voters will see that."
"Only if he makes them see that. Don't get me wrong. I'm voting for Shacklebolt all the way. But… I dunno…" said Amin, thoughtfully. "You're friends with Shacklebolt. And your friends are friends with Shacklebolt. You only hear the one side. But as I'm talking with people outside of his circle… This prison reform bill he's trying to get passed has some people spooked. It's a pretty strong stance to take during an election campaign. I don't mean to say I don't agree with it. But I'm worried it could be a breaking point for him—he's holding firm and people are accusing him of being unwilling to compromise. The country is very divided on the issue of the Azkaban guards. A lot of people are nervous about what the Dementors will do if Shacklebolt kicks them out of Azkaban. Will they come looking to feed here on the mainland? They're worried innocent people might start getting attacked."
"But strangely, they're not concerned at all about what the Dementors do to the people we ship to Azkaban," Gawain observed dryly. Gawain was quite sure neither of his companions had ever been to Azkaban. He himself had been to the prison on official duty on two occasions. It was two occasions too many. The very memory of the place made him shudder. He didn't care what the prisoners had done. No one deserved those conditions.
"Ah, come on now, Gawain. You know better than that. Morality has no place in politics," Ben jibed as the lift trundled to a halt on level six. The three of them shifted to one side to make room for three workers from the Portkey Office who were lucky enough to be heading home for the night.
"Fine then. The ethics of prisoner welfare aside. Or even the ethics of who the Ministry should ally itself with," Gawain continued their conversation as the lift jolted into motion again. "There are other arguments for booting the Dementors, aren't there? Think of the jobs they take from the wizarding community. Our unemployment rate is higher than it has been in decades. If we could reclaim those jobs the Dementors have been occupying… Turn Azkaban into a place where people would actually want to work… These could be jobs for all of those applicants for Auror Academy who don't make the cut; we just turn them away every year. But no, you would have us continue torturing inmates by employing dark creatures out of a fear for what they might do?"
"Hey! Go easy on me," Amin laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just trying to see both sides of the issue. Never said I agreed with it."
At this time, the lift halted at the Atrium and they all filed out. The Atrium was busy with Ministry workers. Their shifts ending, it was nearly time for most to head home. Today, Gawain noticed a markedly different energy from usual, however. Rather than filing toward the Apparition Zone or fireplaces, more were milling about talking amongst each other. Gawain saw many holding the redacted copy of Potter's testimony as they gossiped together. It was all growing rather tiresome.
Little conversation passed between the three companions as they weaved their way through the noisy throng toward the Apparition Zone. No one paid them any mind, which suited Gawain just fine. Upon finally reaching the Apparition Zone, Gawain looked back to his two companions and held out his arm. No instruction was necessary. Both grabbed hold and with a nod to each, he Apparated them away without a word.
Gawain shot out a hand to grasp the front of Amin's robes as he nearly stumbled off the stoop of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Amin nodded to him in gratitude as he regained his footing. Gawain glanced to Ben to be sure he hadn't splinched anyone, but he too looked whole and well. Gawain tried not to show his relief. He did not often Side-Along two people at once onto such a small target.
The street lamps were just flickering on down Grimmauld Place as Amin looked around and took in their surroundings. He wrinkled his nose at a particularly unpleasant pile of rubbish on the neighbouring lawn before turning around to study the house.
"Where are we?" he asked the question Gawain was sure he had been wanting to ask since his meeting with Kingsley the day before. He was looking up at the dirty façade stretching above with some distaste.
"It used to be headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," Gawain offered as he slipped past him to open the front door. He held it open for his companions. Ben loped in ahead unconcernedly; Amin followed cautiously with Gawain bringing up the rear. "We've had a few meetings here when Kingsley wants to be sure we're not overheard. It's very well warded."
"Does Kingsley own this house?" Amin asked dubiously, taking in a particularly unpleasant umbrella stand that looked like a severed troll's foot as they made their way down the hall toward the kitchen.
"No. But the owner has been… quite amenable to us making use of it."
"And he is trustworthy? The owner?" Amin seemed more and more doubtful with each step down the dark, dank hall.
Gawain couldn't help but smile behind Amin's back. He didn't name Potter partly because he did not feel it his place. But more because he secretly wanted to watch Amin's reaction as he figured it out. If the rest of them had to have that humiliating first introduction, Amin should too.
"I think Kingsley has vetted him quite thoroughly," was all he said.
Ben snorted, and as he pushed open the kitchen door, the light from within lit the conspiratorial smile he flashed at Gawain. Amin was too busy looking past him into the kitchen to notice.
Kingsley, Margaret, and Roslyn were already there. They were seated at the far end of the table near the large fireplace. Kingsley occupied the head of the table, and he was leaning over in conversation with Roslyn and Margaret who were situated to his right.
"Ah, good!" Kingsley called as they entered. "You made it. Come on in. Take a seat, and we can begin."
Gawain removed his messenger bag from across his shoulder and pulled out his usual chair nearest the door as Amin pulled out the chair between him and Roslyn. Ben had paused to look around the newly tidied kitchen appreciatively.
"Looks like 'the owner' jazzed things up a bit, didn't he?" Ben commented softly as he passed behind Gawain on his way to the free chair on the opposite side of the table next to Margaret. Gawain grinned at him and Ben winked. Margaret looked between them with a puzzled expression, but Kingsley was speaking again and Gawain tuned his attention back to the matter at hand.
"Gawain, I trust you have brought the case files for the coming week? I suggest we start going through them in the order of their trial time. The main goal for the evening is to review the evidence and make sure we have a good strong case for each."
Gawain nodded, reaching down to retrieve his bag and the stack of casefiles within. He slid the stack over to Kingsley. He then bent to slip his bag back under his chair.
At that moment, the fire whooshed in a burst of green flames. Gawain banged his head on the table as he rushed to straighten up and draw his wand. There was a screeching of chairs against tile as all occupants of the room jumped to their feet, and, in the blink of an eye, four wands were pointed at the intruder who had emerged from the fire and was stepping down from the hearth. Ben was closest to the fire, seated with his back to it, and he had only just managed to turn around, his wand drawn. Before Gawain could even process who had emerged, the figure had his hand wrapped around Ben's wand arm. He twisted it so fast Gawain's eyes only registered a blur. Ben's arm was wrenched backward, and he was spun in front of the person as a human shield. Gawain blinked and found Ben's wand now pointed directly at his own face. Then, he looked past it and locked eyes with Harry Potter.
Kingsley's hand shot out, and he knocked Amin's wand aside before he could fire off a curse at Potter. Margaret, who seemed to have registered who had arrived at the same time as Gawain, lowered her wand slowly. Roslyn, the only one who had not drawn a wand immediately stared around the room with wide eyes.
All occupants of the room stood stock-still for a moment, breathing hard. Kingsley had his hands raised in supplication, looking back and forth between Potter and his law enforcement slowly. "Let's everybody calm down," he said evenly in his low calm voice.
Gawain dropped his wand. Potter took a heartbeat longer before doing the same, releasing Ben from his tight hold. Then he let his breath out in a big whoosh. He dropped his chin to his chest with eyes closed a moment and ran the fingers of his free hand through his hair. His scar seemed to stand out brighter against his pale face. There was silence for a moment.
"Sorry," Potter spoke first, turning back to look at them. "Wasn't expecting you." He was taking in deep breaths and letting them out through the mouth. "I'll just, um… give that back to you then," he said, handing the wand back to Ben who seemed completely confused as to what had just happened and how. He was absentmindedly rubbing his shoulder where Potter had wrenched it as he looked between the fireplace and the wand Potter had just handed back to him. "Sorry," said Potter again with an apologetic grimace.
Gawain thought Potter looked frazzled, but he seemed to be trying to get this under control quickly. Kingsley noted it too. "Alright?" he asked, his eyes narrowing, as he looked Potter over from head to foot.
"Yeah. Yeah, sorry. Let me just… restart my heart." Potter forced a chuckle. "While you're very welcome and all that, we might need to come up with a system to let me know you're coming before I accidentally murder someone…"
"Agreed. Sorry," said Kingsley. He looked it. And he looked worried as he gazed at Potter. "I was actually hoping to see you tonight to talk with you about using the place a little more regularly."
Potter just looked at him for a moment, his face blank. Then he started laughing. A second later Kingsley was laughing too. "A little late for me to be asking, I admit it," he offered.
Potter mussed his hair again, shaking his head. "Nah, it's fine," he said, still chortling.
"I thought you'd be coming home by way of the front door. Wasn't expecting the fireplace," Kingsley offered in his defence.
"Yeah. McGonagall has been letting me use the fireplace in her office to get in and out of Hogwarts easier," Potter explained.
"How are things at Hogwarts?" Kingsley asked, sitting back down at the table. "My latest report from Edward said things were coming along."
"It's starting to look more like Hogwarts again, yeah," was all Potter offered.
Ben was still looking bemusedly at Potter. Margaret had sat back down and was watching the exchange with an elbow on the table and her chin in her hand, a frown on her face. Roslyn surveyed the pair, her back straight and her face blank. Amin looked completely lost as to what was going on; his gaze was bouncing between Potter, Kingsley, and Gawain; Gawain felt a small twinge of guilt, but also amusement that he hadn't explained to him whose house they were in. Mostly amusement.
"Anyway… Hi, everyone," Potter said in a mockingly cheery tone. "Sorry to interrupt." He moved away from the fireplace, passing around the head of the table as the Ministry members took their seats again.
Abruptly there was a loud crack, and everybody except for Potter jumped.
"Hello, Kreacher."
"Shoes off, Master Harry! Kreacher just mopped the floors this morning!" the House-elf squawked.
"Okay, okay! They're off," replied Potter, kicking off his worn out trainers into a corner. Potter smiled affectionately at the elf from behind its back as Kreacher had taken his cloak and was hanging it on the hook on the wall. The elf was wrinkling his nose at it as he brushed off some soot.
Cloak removed, Gawain noted Potter's t-shirt was one of the most worn and faded he had seen the boy wear to date and there was a rip in the knee of his trousers. The boy's tattered clothing was contrasted sharply with the presence of the devoted House-elf caring for him.
"Will Master Harry be requiring dinner this evening?" the elf inquired.
"No thanks, Kreacher. I had a late lunch at Hogwarts; I'll just find something to snack on. Take the night off," Potter suggested kindly.
This seemed to be the wrong thing to say. The elf looked at Potter with an expression of affront before Disapparating with another sharp crack. Potter glanced up at the ceiling as sounds of banging were heard from an upper level. He winced. "That wasn't a command," Potter called up at the ceiling. This was met with a particularly loud thud. Potter winced again and sighed.
"So, how's that going," said Kingsley, with a small smile, nodding toward the ceiling.
"Oh, great" said Potter with a touch of sarcasm. "He spends all day trying to get me to give him commands, and I spend all day trying to avoid giving him commands. We're getting on swimmingly." Potter smiled. "Still… we've been working on making the house liveable again, room by room. It's coming along."
"Is he still hording all the old Black family heirlooms?"
"Yeah… a bit… I told him he can have Regulus's old room. He's turned it into a kind of museum. Shelves and shelves of crap. But I've told him he can't keep anything dangerous. And once he runs out of space in there, that's it; the rest has to go. So now he's being more judicial in what he keeps."
Kingsley smiled dotingly at Potter as he spoke of these domestic affairs. Gawain was beginning to recognise this look as one Kingsley reserved only for Potter. "Nah. Believe it or not, I've actually quite missed him," Potter finished. This comment was only slightly marred by the sound of another crash from above and another wince.
Shaking his head, Potter made his way over to the far side of the table. He opened the icebox and was looking inside. When he turned back, he had a block of cheese and some salami in his hands. He glanced around the room and only then seemed to notice the unfamiliar face. He took in Amin silently with a cock to his head for a brief moment before his eyes darted to Kingsley. Gawain recognised the unspoken, "this guy's not going to try to kill me, is he?" look from the first time the rest of them had visited Grimmauld Place.
"Oh, sorry. This is Sandeep Amin. He's head of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol." Amin flashed his broad white smile as he stood and shook Potter's hand, though he still looked a quite mystified. "Sandeep just returned to the country after spending the last year in hiding abroad," Kingsley continued.
"Oh?" said Potter as he crossed over to the pantry and pulled out some crisps. "Brilliant. So who did you piss off then?"
Amin let out a small laugh that seemed more out of surprise than mirth. "Er… Yaxley mostly, I suppose."
"Yaxley! Oh, I like him," Potter said to Kingsley. "Yeah, he can stay." Potter grinned.
Kingsley smiled his affectionate smile again as Potter turned back to collect a knife and a cutting board. Then, casually, while looking back to flip through the casefile in front of him, Kingsley added, "What Sandeep is too modest to tell you, is that he pissed off Yaxley by refusing to sign your arrest warrant last year."
There was silence in the room. Everyone was looking at Potter to see how he would respond to this information. Potter, who had just started to slice the block of cheese, froze. He kept his eyes on the cheese and did not look up for a moment, but there was a crease between his eyebrows. Finally, he looked up and studied Amin, frowning, knife held forgotten halfway through the block of cheese. Amin had a touch of pink on his brown cheeks and an embarrassed smile turning up the corners of his mouth.
"Don't take this the wrong way… because I'm sure that's very noble and all that…" said Potter slowly after a while. "But why on Earth would you do that? That's completely mental."
Amin blinked in surprise, the smile slipping from his face. This had clearly not been the reaction he had expected. Get used to it, Amin. This boy never does what you expect, Gawain thought.
"I—sorry, what?" Amin asked.
Potter frowned at him, chewing his lip. "I mean… you must have known it was pointless, right? That they were just going to kill you and make someone else sign it? And what about your family? Did that not put them at risk too?"
"My wife and I discussed it beforehand. I knew it was likely I would be asked to arrest you if the Ministry fell. And I was aware of the possible repercussions to saying 'no'." Amin shrugged. "But she agreed with me. We had our bags packed before ever they asked."
"But…why?" asked Potter as though he truly didn't understand why anyone would do such a thing. "What purpose could it possibly serve? I mean… you don't even know me."
Amin looked as though he really didn't know how to answer this. "My honour isn't for sale." He shrugged. "We all draw our line of how far we're willing to go in different places," he said contemplatively. "I suppose I just happen to draw my line somewhere short of arresting a seventeen-year-old and turning him over to the Death Eaters who were sure to murder him."
Potter squinted at him for a brief moment, then let out a small disbelieving huh sound before returning to slicing the meat and cheese with a slight shake of the head. He said nothing in response. Amin who was looking more and more flummoxed finally burst out into the resulting silence, "You find this an unsatisfactory answer?"
Potter paused again for a moment before looking back to Amin, still worrying his lip with his teeth. "Not exactly… It's just… in my experience… when pushed to it—really pushed to it; their lives or that of their family's threatened— I have found that very few people actually draw their line there. Not for someone they've never met." He studied Amin a little longer before adding, "But I'm very grateful to those who do." He smiled kindly.
There was a change of energy in the room as Gawain and several others shifted uncomfortably at these words. Gawain ran a hand through his hair. His own department had been an instrument in the manhunt for Potter. And Gawain had done nothing to stand in the way of that. Who was Harry Potter to him? Why should he prioritise the life of some boy he had never met over that of Ella or Mary? That's what he had thought then. Would he have done the same if he had it to do over? Now, he was not so sure. He wanted to think he would not. Was that just because now he had met Potter? Seen his humanity and not just the icon. Seen past the scar. Past the Boy Who Lived. A frightening corner of Gawain's brain acknowledged that he probably would act exactly the same as he had. That he would sacrifice far more lives to keep his family safe. The acknowledgment, even only to himself, filled him with shame.
Potter seemed to register the awkwardness in the room at his comment. His eyes widened. "Oh, don't get me wrong," he hastened to say to the room at large. "I get it. Doing anything to protect your family I get. There's honour in that too. I don't resent anyone for that. In fact, I think I understand that more than I understand why people would fight for me. Take this guy, for example," he gestured to Kingsley. "No idea what drove his stupidly noble stunts over all these years."
Tension broken, a small laugh sounded around the room as Kingsley smiled at Potter warmly. "What can I say," replied Kingsley with a smile in his deep calm voice. "I guess I kinda grew to like you." Potter smiled back at him then began stacking slices of cheese and sausage onto a plate with some crisps.
"Always a dangerous mistake," replied Potter, offering Kingsley another smile before sliding the plate across the table to rest in the middle between the Ministry members. Ben, of course, happily helped himself as Potter fixed himself his own plate.
"You two have… known each other for some time, I take it?" asked Amin. Gawain smiled, watching as Amin worked his way through this puzzle with the same steps Gawain had had to take over the past two weeks.
"Humph," replied Potter, looking at Kingsley, a small mischievous smile barely turning up the corner of his lips. "Kingsley doesn't tell anyone about that. He's ashamed of me. No one ever wants to tell their friends they know me. Bit hurtful, really." He had a mock look of insult plastered to his face.
Kingsley laughed indulgently before turning to Amin in explanation, "Harry and I first met shortly after I joined the Order of the Phoenix. About three years ago. At the time, an association with Harry or with the Order came with the risk of…" he trailed off, looking for the right words.
"Getting sacked?" Potter finished for him, bluntly. "And after that, a pretty good way of getting murdered," he added as an afterthought. Kingsley shrugged and nodded.
"I see…" Amin replied, though Gawain was not entirely convinced that he did in fact see. "So… are you joining us then, Mr. Potter?" Amin asked, still looking confused as to what Potter was doing there.
"No," replied Potter, his eyes darting to first to the stacks of files on the table and then to Kingsley with a little confusion. "No, I just live here." Amin blinked, glanced at Gawain, then back to Potter as the boy continued. "Why? Are you working on something fun?" He popped a crisp in his mouth.
"Going through case files for the first few days of trials coming up," Kingsley explained. He looked at Potter expectantly, but Potter did not respond more than to nod as he helped himself to another crisp. "We're trying to make sure we have as tight a case as possible," Kingsley pressed. Still Potter said nothing. He carried the cutting board and knife to the sink. Abruptly, Gawain realised an ulterior motive behind Kingsley's choice in meeting location. He looked at Potter, curious to see how he would respond to this. But Potter seemed quite oblivious. Kingsley continued. "On some of these people, we are lacking first-hand accounts. Can be a little challenging collecting evidence against people who perform most of their crimes masked. And there're still a lot of people afraid to come forward and testify."
One by one, Gawain saw as his companions caught on to the hidden request in Kingsley's comments. By this point, all eyes were gazing fixedly at Potter. Potter turned back from the sink and glanced up to find everyone in the room staring at him expectantly. Gawain saw as realisation dawned and he mouthed a small, "Oh." He looked down for a moment with a small laugh. Then said to Kingsley, "You know… if you wanted me to look over the case files, you could just ask…"
Kingsley smiled, unabashed. "Would you mind?"
Potter just laughed and held out his hand for the files wordlessly, the crooked smile on his lips. Kingsley passed over the stack of folders, smiling contentedly. Gawain couldn't suppress a small grin himself. Well-played, Kingsley.
Potter flipped through the stack of files, reading the name of the accused printed on the tab of each. He began sorting them into two different piles, occasionally flipping one open to look inside where a photo was pinned on the inside cover. There was quiet as he did this. Kingsley took the time to rake his eyes over Potter where he still stood at the end of the table. He took in his appearance with a crease between his brows.
"You know… the War is over. I think it's time you bought yourself some new clothes. Seems like you've worn right through most of yours."
"Hmm?" replied Potter, distractedly as he flipped through the folders. "Oh, yeah… I would except for the little problem that I'm broke…"
Kingsley blinked. "Come again?"
Potter glanced up at Kingsley who was gaping at him. He shrugged as though this was no big matter. "I'm kinda out of gold," he said and returned to the files.
Kingsley shook his head. "I don't understand. The Potter family was quite wealthy. And Sirius left everything to you and the Black fortune was considerable. There's no way you could have spent all that!" Kingsley looked genuinely worried. Gawain couldn't blame him. What kind of irresponsible spending could blow through the fortunes of two of the wealthiest wizarding houses? And it hadn't even been a year since Potter came of age and would have had access to the full sum.
Potter glanced up from the files. He looked uncomfortable with this conversation topic. He didn't maintain Kingsley's gaze for long, preferring to look back down to the files he was sorting. "I didn't spend it… no…"
"Well then, where did it all go?"
"Nowhere. That's sort of the problem," replied Potter adding the last of the casefiles to its corresponding stack. Kingsley frowned at him, demanding an answer. Potter sighed, resigned to this conversation which he clearly found tedious. "It's right where I left it. Sitting in my vault… In Gringotts…"
Kingsley was silent for a moment, simply staring at Potter. And then he burst out laughing. Potter sighed with a self-deprecating smile on his face. "Glad you find the situation so amusing," he said, sardonically.
"I'm sorry," choked out Kingsley, brushing a tear of laughter from his eye. "It's just… You defeated Lord Voldemort. And you're afraid of the Gringotts goblins." Gawain scratched his beard to hide his amusement. But he also acknowledged Potter's predicament. The boy could hardly just waltz into Gringotts and ask to make a withdrawal a mere two weeks after having robbed the place.
"Correction," replied Potter. "I'm terrified of the Gringotts goblins. I mean, have you seen them when they're angry? Like really angry?" Potter shuttered.
"Anyway," continued Potter, clearly trying to change the subject. "I can't help with these," he plopped the smaller of the two stacks of files in the centre of the table. "But I may have something for you on these ones," he pulled out a chair and seated himself, pulling the larger of the two stacks close.
But Kingsley was not going to let the subject change so soon. He sobered himself and said, "Harry, I'm sure I could smooth things over with—"
"No," Potter interrupted quickly. "No, thanks," he amended. "I don't need any help; I can manage. It's really not a big deal."
"Harry, it kind of is a big deal… You need money to live on—"
"I'll figure it out," Potter cut Kingsley off again. "And even if I don't… Well… It can just rot down there if needs be. It's only gold."
"A lot of gold," Kingsley amended, looking both amused and sympathetic.
Potter laughed humourlessly. "It is a lot of gold, yeah," he said, running his hand through his hair with an embarrassed smirk. "Anyway. Like I said. I can deal with it. So. Should we go through these cases?"
Kingsley and Roslyn left quickly at the conclusion of the meeting, Margaret tailing the Minister dutifully. Potter had already taken his leave; Gawain had heard him making his way up the stairs into the depths of the mysterious house. Ben was standing over by the fireplace, his wand out. Gawain glanced over to see him re-enacting Potter's entrance in slow motion as he struggled to figure out exactly how Potter had disarmed him so quickly.
Amin was still seated at the table. He was frowning at the table top lost in thought.
"Alright?" Gawain asked him as he slid his notes and quill into his messenger bag, getting ready to leave for the night.
"Hmm? Oh yeah. Just thinking," replied Amin distractedly. He got to his feet. Then he looked at Gawain, his head cocked to the side, he narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. Gawain couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face.
"You knew whose house we were in."
"Yes," was all Gawain said in response.
"You intentionally avoided telling me."
"Yes."
"You were toying with me."
"Most definitely."
"Da', can I go play a song on the jukebox?"
"Stay where I can see you. And don't take long. Food should be here soon." Gawain pulled out a handful of change from his pocket and sorted out a few Knuts for her. His eyes followed her as she danced over to the jukebox in the far corner of the room and began inspecting it intently.
Gawain sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes roving around the room as he waited for their ordered food to arrive. It had been a while since he had actually sat down in the Leaky Cauldron. This past year, no one had, really. People had minimised how often they needed to go out in general, and when they had, they would pass through as swiftly as possible to complete their errands in Diagon Alley before rushing home. But today, Gawain felt it safe enough to linger for lunch.
It wasn't particularly busy in the pub. Busier than he had seen it in quite some time, but nowhere near as it had been before the War. Still, there were the usual people passing through from the Floo behind him or from the door leading out to Muggle London to his left. They headed toward the courtyard and the magical entrance to Diagon Alley on the far side of the room, many barely pausing to take in the pub. But a few, like Gawain, seemed to be enjoying the new-found freedom to actually tarry long enough for a bite. Apart from Ella and himself, there were four other tables occupied by groups enjoying their lunch or a few pints.
His preliminary survey of the room complete, Gawain's eyes swung back to Ella where she was still scrolling through songs. He could just make out the tip of her tongue between her teeth as she considered her choice intently.
"Please please tell me Kingsley didn't send you here to tail me," came a voice to his left. Gawain jumped, shocked that he had not heard anyone approaching, and turned around. Harry Potter was smiling down at him pleasantly.
Gawain blinked, trying to bridge the gap between work life and family life and finding himself not at all sure where Potter fit in. He sat up straight in his chair, leaning an elbow on the table as he swivelled to face Potter. "Potter! What? I… No. No, of course not. What are you doing here?" He glanced around, looking to see who Potter was with. It was a reflex. He frowned upon realising Potter was alone. "But you do have someone here with you, don't you?" He couldn't help it. The War may be over, but that still didn't mean that Potter should be wondering around in public places without some form of protection. He was still, after all, Harry Potter.
Potter raised his eyebrows at him and blinked. Then let out a short laugh. It was a funny sort of laugh. Like a response to an inside joke to which Gawain was not privy. "Er… yeah. I mean no. I'm meeting Bill Weasley here. He works for Gringotts. He's going to help me try to smooth things over with the goblins." He glanced over to a middle-aged couple a few tables away near the windows that looked out to Muggle London. They were whispering together and looking their way. Potter casually shifted such that his back was to them. "Wish me luck. I expect I'll be needing to do a great deal of grovelling. Think well of me if I should not return," he added dramatically. He smiled broadly as though this were a great joke, but Gawain couldn't help but think that he was, at least in part, quite serious. Across the room, Gawain heard the jukebox click on with a song from the Weird Sisters.
"What brings you here?" Potter continued. "Something very exciting? Unearthing an underground Death Eater hideout or raiding some black market trade of Dark artefacts?"
Gawain laughed. "Not quite, but almost just a perilous," he said. He heard Ella's slow cautious footsteps behind him. "Lunch and shopping with my daughter," he elaborated. He turned to look over his shoulder. Ella was standing there, two metres away, her arms held stiffly at her side, her eyes wide as she looked up at Potter.
Potter's eyes widened as he saw her. "Oh, God. I'm interrupting. I'm so sorry. Suppose it didn't even occur to me that you actually take days off from work from time to time."
Gawain couldn't help but laugh. "My wife would agree with you," he said. "Ells, do you want to come say hello?" he asked, reaching out an arm for her. She approached the final few steps, and he pulled her close. With him seated, she was almost of a same height. Her eyes stayed on Potter the whole time her face frozen in shock. "This is Harry Potter. This is my daughter, Eleanor," he added to Potter.
That brought Ella's attention sharply away from Potter for the first time since she'd set eyes on him. "Da'! You can't call me Eleanor in front of Harry Potter!" she said as though he'd just done the most embarrassingly dad-style faux pas known to wizard-kind. She turned back to Potter. "It's Ella. He only calls me 'Eleanor' when he's cross with me."
Potter laughed. "Hello, Ella," he said, leaning over the table and reaching out a hand to shake hers. Ella looked like she might explode from delight as she took it. Gawain could almost feel her vibrating under the arm he held around her waist. He couldn't help but smile.
"Do people call you something different when they're cross with you," she asked Potter.
Potter gave a surprised laugh again as he considered this. "Well… yeah. 'Potter' usually. And now you mention it, that's what your dad calls me. Do you think he's cross with me?" He had a look of mock worry on his face as he posed this question to Ella.
"Da'!" said Ella, turning accusingly to Gawain. "Are you cross with Harry Potter?" Potter had a smugly satisfied look, enjoying the fact that he'd just gotten Gawain into trouble with his daughter.
Gawain laughed. "Only when he goes about taking silly risks that could get him hurt," he said, pointedly.
Potter laughed merrily at the return jab. "That's fair, I suppose. And probably a sentiment shared by many."
At that moment he broke off and stepped back from the table as the innkeeper bustled past him with their lunch. The balding old man bent to place two plates on the table with an automatic "Anything else I can get for you?" But then he got distracted upon glancing up at the new-comer. "Merlin's beard," he said. "Well, I never!" And then he was shaking Potter's hand with both of his own and smiling a toothless smile and exclaiming enthusiastically, "Welcome back, Mr. Potter!"
"Hello, Tom," said Potter, smiling fondly at the innkeeper. "It's good to see you."
"And you, Mr. Potter. And you. It's been such a long time."
"It has. Glad to see business seems to be picking up again," Potter observed, nodding toward the other occupied tables.
"Oh, aye. It's been a long couple a years. Wasn't sure we were gonna make it there for a bit. But slowly, we're getting back to normal again. Reckon I can thank you for that. Making people feel safe enough to venture out again."
Potter abruptly looked awkward. "Oh, hardly," he said, uncomfortably.
The smell of Gawain's and Ella's fish and chips and mushy peas was drifting up to meet Gawain's nostrils, but neither he nor Ella paid their lunch any attention. They were too busy watching this interaction.
"I was just thinking about you, actually," Tom was saying, not noticing Potter's discomforted response. "Remember that summer you spent a couple weeks here? When Cornelius Fudge asked me to keep an eye out for you. Why was that again? Got into a row with your family over summat… Accidental magic, wasn't it?"
"Yeah… I blew up my aunt…" said Potter, half wincing and half grinning embarrassedly as he scratched the back of his neck.
Tom snapped his fingers. "That's it! Well, I remember you used to love my pies! Had one almost every day for dinner that summer. I've got a batch coming fresh out of the oven any minute. I'm gonna go fetch one for you. On the house, of course. Take a seat!"
"Oh, no. Thank you, Tom, but that's not necessary. I really… can't… stay… aaaand he's not listening to me," said Potter, trailing off as Tom had already bustled off behind the bar and through to the kitchen. Potter watched him go, chewing on his lip. "Ah well," he sighed to himself before turning back to Gawain and Ella who were both looking at Potter, their food quite forgotten on the table.
Gawain remembered the incident Tom referred to. It was the year Sirius Black escaped Azkaban. He particularly remembered it because he and Mary had gotten into a quarrel after their family holiday to Bath had been cancelled when Fudge had called Gawain back to go out and search for the boy. He remembered the mad panic around the Ministry that night, everyone out trying to find the lad before Black did.
"Sorry about that," Potter was saying a slight blush touching his cheeks. "I should leave you to your lunch," he said, gesturing to the plates in front of them. "Enjoy your day off. Hope you're shopping for something fun."
"Da's going to buy me a racing broom!" offered Ella excitedly, quite unbidden, of course. "He says I'm old enough to upgrade from my old training broom!"
"Wow," replied Potter, showing admirable interest in the excited rambling of a seven-year-old. "That is fun. What model are you going to get?"
"Well, I want a Firebolt. But Da' says they're too expensive. So I'm thinking maybe a Nimbus. Or I guess a Comet wouldn't be so bad. But Da' says we should get an older model as they're cheaper and that I can upgrade later if I make the house team when I'm at Hogwarts." Gawain smiled at her, torn between embarrassment that he was sure she was giving far more information than anyone cared to hear and pride that she had not inherited her da's reticence for conversation.
"The Firebolt's great, but you know, the Nimbus really does hold up," Potter offered, smiling kindly at her. "The Nimbus Two Thousand was actually my first broomstick. I loved that broom."
Ella's eyes widened. "Really?"
Before Potter could respond further, however, a man approached them and tapped Potter on the shoulder. He was a tall man with red hair tied back in a ponytail and an earring with a fang hanging from one ear. Scars marred his face in a pattern that reminded Gawain of a young Mad-Eye Moody. He appeared intimidating at first glance, but he smiled pleasantly at the three of them as he reached them. Though Potter's eyes had not left Ella, he did not seem surprised by the man's approach, and he cocked his head to listen as the man spoke to him softly.
"Sorry, I'm late. We should get going. Fan girls at two o'clock were arguing who should come over and ask for your autograph as I was passing."
"Well, that's my cue to leave," said Potter. He glanced at the man Gawain assumed must be Bill Weasley and smiled. Then turned back to Ella. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Ella. I hope you find the perfect broom." Then he nodded to Gawain. "Glad to see you out of the office, Mr. Robards. Have a good one."
And with Weasley at his side, he headed toward the back door leading to the courtyard exiting into Diagon Alley. Gawain watched as he rapped knuckles on the bar as he passed, leaning over too look into the kitchen and called, "Gotta go, Tom. Another time for that pie."
Gawain heard a muffled, "Your health, Mr. Potter!" called from the kitchen. And with that, Potter was gone.
There was silence at the table. Gawain could not help but smile to himself as he replayed Potter's interaction with his daughter.
He glanced to Ella. She was sitting at the table, her chin resting in her hands, gazing in the direction of the door through which Potter had disappeared. "Wow," she said dreamily. Gawain imagined he was going to hear of little else for quite some time.
"Mam! Mam! Look! Isn't it beautiful?" Ella cried the minute Mary walked through the door that evening. She had scarcely had time to deposit her Healer's bag and cloak in the mudroom before being accosted by an extremely overexcited seven-year-old. Mary took in the broomstick and ran her hand along the polished wood.
"It's wonderful, sweetheart," she replied appreciatively. She looked tired after her day at work. Gawain thought how fortunate and how unfortunate it was that children never seemed to see this in their parents.
"Can we go out and fly tomorrow?" Ella asked, excitedly.
"Of course, Ella. But you mustn't go too high; remember your promise."
"Yes, yes. No higher than the birch trees until I'm at Hogwarts. I know. But guess what, Mam! It's a Nimbus Two Thousand! It's the same broom that Harry Potter learned to ride on! He told me so himself! We met him, Mam! We met Harry Potter! He shook my hand and everything!"
Mary blinked in surprise. "Did you now?" she said, but her eyes travelled to Gawain with a small frown.
"He is so… cool!" said Ella, after a pause in which she seemed to be trying to find the perfect word to describe Potter. And then she was rolling around on the ground giggling like a little fool. Gawain couldn't help but laugh and shake his head at the ridiculousness of seven-year-old girls.
"You didn't take her to work, did you?" Mary asked him softly, as Ella was distracted by her giggling fit. Mary looked worried and on the verge of annoyance.
"What? No. We just ran into him at the Leaky Cauldron, and he stopped to say hi. All of a one minute conversation. He was nice. Good with Ella. Gave her advice on broomsticks." They glanced back to Ella who was now running around the sitting room with the broom between her legs pretending to fly. Every once in a while, she would take a flying leap and hover for a few feet before touching back down.
"Actually, we should be thanking him," said Gawain after a moment. "I was prepared to buy her a Nimbus Two Thousand and Three. But she insisted she wanted the same one as Harry Potter." He turned to Mary to whisper conspiratorially, "The older model was a lot cheaper than the Two Thousand and Three!" Mary glanced at him, smiling. "When we were checking out, the proprietor of the shop mentioned that he had been planning to discontinue carrying the Two Thousands since it was such an outdated model. But now, seeing how excited Ella was, he's considering ordering in another shipment and running a promotion on them, advertising that they're the same model Harry Potter used to fly on."
Mary burst out laughing and Gawain joined her. They both watched Ella zooming around the room with matching smiles. Mary rested her head on his shoulder as they watched her happily.
"Ella! Didn't you have something you wanted to give your mum?" Gawain called her back.
"Oh, yeah!" Ella ran to the shopping bag which still lay abandoned on the coffee table and dug out a thin sleek box. Running up to Mary she handed it to her. Mary opened the box and a contented smile split her face.
"Oh, how lovely!" Mary pulled out a svelte pheasant quill and held it between her graceful fingers. It was striped with brown and black and white, but when it caught the light it had a subtle green sheen.
"I wanted to get the peacock one, but Da' said it wasn't practical for work. It was too big and it would get all mussed up in your pocket. So we decided on this one."
"It's perfect. Thank you, you two." She kissed each of them in turn on the cheek and Gawain felt a warm glow of contentment at this moment with his little family.
Then Ella was back to zipping around the room with her broomstick. "Is it true Harry Potter rode a dragon," she called. And then she was pretending her broom was a dragon and making sounds like it was breathing fire.
"She's scarcely stopped talking about Potter since she met him," Gawain said, after a bit. "I think she's gotten her first crush." He looked down at Mary, raising his eyebrows. "Are we ready for this?"
Mary smiled up at him, her eyes crinkling in mirth. "You're her da'. You're never going to be ready for that." With that, she pecked him again on the cheek and headed off to the kitchen to get a start on dinner.