For two consecutive afternoons Dennis returned to Hogwarts to explain several times the events that transpired in front of the school gates. On the second afternoon, officials from the Ministry of Magic attended. He learned from them that Emyrus Kapékítrinos, the man in the yellow bowler, sat in an auror dungeon and provided little information. Kapékítrinos did not know the name of the person who hired him to get an object from Dennis. Moreover, the man did not know exactly what his employer wanted outside of a list of everything Lord North left to the young wizard. Kapékítrinos did admit to wanting to kill Dennis in front of the Hogwarts' gates. When asked about the woman Kapékítrinos met in London, he said she formed part of the legion of homeless magical street people. The man used her as an informant and a spy. She did not provide any significant leads the Ministry told Dennis.
The fact someone came close to murdering him refocused a harsh light on Dennis' relationship with the 9th Earl of Nottingham, Lord Thomas North. Ministry officials again beset Dennis with demands he list every item the nobleman left to him. Dennis refused and said he needed to confer with Lord North, but he invited them to confront the ghost himself. Dennis found it both odd and telling the Ministry did not want to talk directly to Lord North, and it set the young wizard's suspicions into overdrive. It also reinforced his resolve to remain absolutely silent on the objects bequeathed to him. The Ministry officials did not disguise their contempt and disdain for Dennis. They all but called him a criminal.
Duncan and Jill Creevey went into a complete panic when they learned someone tried to kill their son. They tried to impose a state of incommunicado on their son, but Dennis rebuffed their efforts to isolate him to the house. He presented his need to go to work, to prepare for his case with the Ministry, and, whether they liked it or not, to continue his research into the Mother of the Fen ghost. They argued his investigations into the former lives of the departed got him into trouble in the first place. Moreover, his father began to raise the combined issue of death and magic. It seemed all the progress they made in the past eight months regarding their family got tossed straight out the window. Pangs of depression weighed Dennis as he felt he lost the support of parents. However, did not find himself entirely alone.
"They're scared, Denny, and that's all it is," Mr. Odpadki said as they studied the three bins that glowed entirely on their own. "Hell, if my kids got caught up in something like that, I'd react the same way. Look, someone did try to kill you, right?"
Dennis frowned, jammed his hands into his coverall pockets, and glared at the light emanating from the trash containers. They found themselves outside of London in Henley-on-Thames in the small Fair Park magical community. Mr. Odpadki got the request through the Olivander family who requested they act with haste and due respect for privacy. Dennis understood it as code words for keeping the Ministry out of the situation. When they arrived, he and his employer learned Hubert Wright performed special decorative wand woodwork for the Olivanders. Unfortunately, the man and his family never consider the proper disposal of the scraps of magical woods they used, and several decades of splinters accumulated in the three sizable bins. The detritus became self-illuminated, and the effect made Dennis extremely nervous.
"How would you feel if someone tried to kill your child?" His boss turned the situation around on him.
"Oh, right, and where am I going to find a mother for my children who doesn't mind the father is flat-out gay?" Dennis grumped.
"Don't change the subject, lad!"
"Fine, but why is everyone acting like this is my fault? I didn't ask the Kapékítrinos to hunt me down. I was just going about doing what I normally do, and this bloke up and tries to snuff me. How is any of this my fault?" He argued in return.
"No one is saying it's your fault, Denny…"
"Really? Why do my parents keep saying if I wasn't all involved in what happened to the ghosts I wouldn't be in danger? Huh? And you know they'd tried to make me quit this job if they found out what we actually got into most of the time!"
Mr. Odpadki recoiled from the heat in Dennis' words. Dennis also knew the man would fight like Peeves in demon-form if anyone tried to get him to quit Rapid Removal. They stood back three meters from their current project because, aside from the light, it also projected a worrisome vibration. Even Mr. Odpadki could feel the ambient magic field, and it felt wrong on several levels to Dennis. Hence, the owner of the company would need to depend on Dennis' constantly evolving skills with charms to help sort out the mess. Despite his young age, it appeared his schooling, and the unusual aspects of it, became an important asset.
"But can you say they're wrong for worrying about you?" Mr. Odpadki rejoined in a low tone.
"No," Dennis sighed in agreement.
"Now, this whole new development… why didn't you reach out to someone to help?"
"I did, but all they wanted to know is what's in my vault. It's like they didn't care about what was happening to me."
"You honestly believe that?"
"Well, I know Professor Flitwick cares, and so does Peeves… he's the one who saved me, and maybe Hermione at the Ministry, but that's about it," Dennis replied.
"And me and Sasha?" The man pointedly inquired.
Dennis winced a little, but then rejoined: "But is it really me you're worried about or your employee?"
"That's insulting. Stop being a turd," Mr. Odpadki growled at him.
"Sorry."
"You're not just one thing to people, Dennis, and you've got to get over that. I know that's how the other students treated you at school, but was it true for the people who really mattered? Have I ever once made an issue of any part of your life?"
Dennis took his turn leaning away from the fiery anger of Mr. Odpadki. He knew the man valued him as more than just an employee, as did his daughter, but the feeling people wanted something from him he did not want give made Dennis defensive. A long afternoon spent under the Ministry and auror microscope did not help, and Headmistress McGonagall constantly needling him to provide details on Lord North and Peeves did not improve his mood. It seemed Dennis, Peeves, and Thomas formed a trio of trouble for Minerva McGonagall. She seemed especially concerned about the poltergeist's transformation and ability to attack a mortal person. The headmistress, along with the Ministry people, wanted to overlook the fact Peeves saved Dennis life. In the present moment, he could not ignore the ire in Mr. Odpadki.
"No," Dennis again pushed himself to agree with the truth.
"Then why are you taking your anger out on me?" The man persisted.
Dennis stared at the bins as though somehow the glow might provide him some answer or ultimate truth. Instead, he simply found a disturbing side-effect that might take a turn for the worse. It seemed representative of his life. The figurative waters around him turned choppy and danger came at Dennis from many directions. Any one factor could completely capsize and up-end his life. All he wanted to achieve centered on maintaining an even keel. Although the murder attempt worried him, Dennis worried more over what might happen to Cameron. Given the events of the past two days, it clouded the future like a hurricane rising up out of the Atlantic Ocean. His employer did not stop gazing him during his contemplative silence.
"I guess… look, everything is coming at me all at one. I know you've had the Ministry breathing down your neck before, but now they're going to use one thing against me to take something else away. It's like if I don't bend to their will, they're going to hurt me, Mister Odpadki. They're getting as bad as Voldemort," Dennis said in a distant, hollow fashion.
"You go easy on that, Denny," the man cautioned him. "Nobody likes to be compared to… Him. You'll only make them madder."
"But am I wrong?"
"Yes."
The two stood regarding one another. They reached an impasse. Dennis honestly believed the Ministry act in similar ways to the Dark Lord. They seemed to place a greater importance on their power and getting people to comply than they did about they people they supposedly served. The young wizard began to see the allure and trap found with power, whether magical or political or social, and how it could warp the person that commanded it. Although Mr. Odpadki did not necessarily like the Ministry, he did not hold them in the same low regard as Dennis.
"No, I'm not, and you know it. Is anything they're doing to me fair?" He challenged.
"I'm not getting into this again with you, Denny. We've gone round and round too many times 'bout this," Mr. Odpadki grumbled. "Let's just drop it and focus on the job."
The want to argue his point burned in his gut, but Dennis knew Mr. Odpadki well enough to know when to desist. Even though they often spent the time traveling to the job site engaged in a discussion, once at the site Mr. Odpadki wanted to complete the task at hand. His well-worn demand to focus signaled his seriousness. Dennis tried his level best to shove aside the distractions of his life. The dragon dung fertilizer removal sprang into his mind about what could happen when not paying attention. Both he and his boss missed a small, fist-sized clump as they moved the mass from Kate. When it hit the ground, it went off like a hand-grenade. Dennis bore bruises on his lower legs for over a week. It took him a few moments before he got his mind settled.
"Do we actually know what's in there?" He asked as he studied the luminescent bins.
"Wood chips, shavings… unused bits I'd imagine," Mr. Odpadki rejoined in his normal tone.
"He doesn't work with cores, does he?"
"I don't think so."
Dennis twisted his head to the side and presented a somber face to the man.
"Right. We should probably go and have a chat with the Wrights and find out what they do put in there," the man concurred with the unspoken assertion and questions.
The bins did not contain just the cast-off from their work, they learned twenty minutes later. Mister Wright believed a woodworm infestation took place several years before, but he and his workers (his family) never considered it a real threat since the insects never attacked the house or any other wood structure. They claimed to see the adults fly off in dizzy and haphazard modes of flight. The two men from Rapid Removal cast an askew glance at one another. Dennis heard plenty of stories from Professor Hagrid about creatures that naturally mutated in the presence of a localized and strong magical field. Most of the current magical animals and beasts resulted from breeding within magic. Hence, the situation required a hands-on approach.
"Do woodworms attack people?" Mr. Odpadki asked Dennis as they returned to the bins.
Dennis shrugged and said: "Don't know. Actually, I don't know anything about them."
"Me neither."
A distressed note in the man's voice proved telling. A countdown started in Dennis' head. One skill he possessed that seemed in rather short supply in the company often resulted in a specific request. Only Sasha matched him in research capabilities. Thus, he made a very specific prediction and guessed it would come true in a matter of seconds.
"Denny, you're good with books and you know muggle libraries…"
"Yeah, I'll go look up woodworms quick," Dennis interjected to short-circuit the roundabout inquiry. "I'll swing by the Ministry library and see if they got anything on any magical varieties. Might take me a couple of hours."
"You'll get paid, so don't worry about that," Mr. Odpadki immediately jumped to the business end of their arrangement. "Try not to tip anyone off 'bout what we found here."
Dennis threw a disgusted look at his employer. The cloudy day, sans rain, seemed to underscore the rancor the comment piqued in him. However, the young wizard knew it to be a knee-jerk reaction from his boss. He could envision several of the Rapid Removal crew actually asking Ministry officials for assistance. Despite that private knowledge, he maintained the cross visage.
"Right. Sorry about that one," the man sheepishly replied to the expression. "Be thorough, but don't take too much time."
"Couple of hours," Dennis repeated, and then he folded into the nether.
Only one logical location seemed to suit his purpose at the moment. Dennis disapparated to the Hogwarts Express platform at the King's Cross train station. The old, familiar train berth did not inspire any sentimentality in him. Instead, Dennis sought his exit from the platform and made his way through the crowded gallery of cafes and shops. He aimed for Midland Road and the backside of the British Library.
The relatively new library structure, the St. Pancras building, looked to Dennis as if a witch or wizard designed it. Red-orange bricks formed the main façade. The shapes of the complex made it appear like a late-nineteenth or early twentieth century industrial building. Odd terraces and roofline angles lent it a certain unknowable character, and some called it charming. Dennis thought it looked weird and out of place next to the old Victorian library. He expected find stables for horses or hippogriffs inside the new building.
Without his rather frequent visits in the past few months and his earlier history with muggle libraries, Dennis might find the interior confusing at best and terrifying at worst. The St. Pancras building sprawled in the truest sense of the word. Ceilings rose upward to vaulted heights or terminated in floors jutting into the air. Elevators, escalators, and stairs guided people to the various levels that contained specialized collections. Stone and wood, along with miles and miles of carpeting, formed the dominant building material. Then, inside the collection halls, the stacks of books climbed the walls like creeper vines. Dennis vividly remembered his first visit to the St. Pancras building, and the awe never quite diminished. Muggles did not need magic to perform wonders. The British Library proved that.
Fortunately, the staff provide eager helpful to a slightly disturbing degree. As the technological age unfolded, they gave an impression of desperate determination to prove themselves just a viable as a computer – of which the library housed thousands – or smaller devices that started to become connected to the World Wide Web. Information as commodity no longer rested in the hands of grand institutions like The British Library. It started to become broadly disseminated as networks became ever faster, highly interconnected, and crept into nearly every part of life. Hence, Dennis got directed to the part of the library where he could find books any type of flora or fauna, including insects. Moreover, no one seemed to mind one bit he wore his work coveralls with his wand stashed deep into one pocket.
Forty minutes later Dennis learned more about woodworms, the larval form of a type of beetle, than he ever wanted to know. He discovered fantastically named varieties such as the death watch beetle, the furniture beetle, the old house borer, and others. None of them appeared magical in any regard. The young wizard secured sheets of paper from the computer printers, machines he tacitly kept at arm's length since his wand would likely cause network issues, and a stray pen someone left on one of the tables. Although using a copying spell would save him time, Dennis found handwriting information tended to lodge it permanently in his brain. Unlike a number of examples he saw around him, Dennis' penmanship seemed antiquated in its rather antiquated style. Eight years of writing with quills on parchment, plus penmanship classes taught at Hogwarts, made him proficient in both block and cursive script. Thus, he transcribed information regarding the insects with small flourishes not seen in other notes.
Dennis arrived on the Ministry of Magic apparating platform, after disapparating from an unoccupied bathroom in the library, with a sheaf of papers clutched in his hand. Imelda's face broke into a wide smile as she beckoned him to the reception desk. She leaned forward, and he loose hair formed a curtain on both cheeks.
"What's this I hear 'bout someone trying to take out our Dennis?" She quietly asked him.
"Yeah, it happened," Dennis said without any tonal embellishment. "He wanted something he thinks I have, but never told me what it was he wanted. The bloke just wanted to me ramble a list of everything I own."
"You know they got him down in the auror's gaol? Went and had a look at him myself. Doesn't seem the killing type, Dennis. Funny that he'd have a go at you."
"He got hired by someone, and I think maybe I proved a little more difficult to deal with than he first thought. He seemed kind of desperate if you ask me."
People shuffled all around the main floor of the ministry. Two more people lined up behind Dennis as he chatted with Imelda. Polite coughs, but not polite in reality, tried to end their conversation. Dennis did not want to get the woman in any trouble, so he handed over his wand to her. Imelda made quick work of registering his wand without even looking at it once. She returned it to him with grin.
"Come back and let us know if you find out anything more," she prodded him.
"I will," he promised, and then quickly stepped aside for the next visitor. "Give a hello to Earnest, would you?"
"It's a sure thing, love!" Imelda gamely rejoined.
Although he went to the Ministry with one objective in mind, his talk with Imelda pushed him onto a new track. The woodworm situation could wait, he decided, and made for his favorite lift. He entered when it arrived and found himself a touch disappointed.
"Hoarsely, where's Chet?" Dennis asked the lift elf operator.
"Got head wheezes, and he's taking some time," Hoarsely, dressed in the familiar garb of Ministry house elf, informed him. "Actually, they made him take time. Couldn't go five minutes without clearing his nose. Floor?"
"Auror's Office," he answered.
Hoarsely, rounder of face and body than Chet, turned a wary eye to him. It became readily apparent the elf knew of his recent troubles. The information underground at the Ministry worked faster than any muggle computer network. Dennis felt fairly certain all the employees at the ministry, regardless of breed, would know of his recent troubles. Hence, the questioning face presented to him by the lift elf did not surprise.
"Yes, I'm going to see him," Dennis replied and made up his mind at the same instant.
Other people entered the lift and called out their floors. Hoarsely gave a slight nod of his head. Then he closed the gates before anyone else could enter.
"We're starting from the bottom floors first," the elf announced to everyone in the small space, and he got rewarded with a few groans. Dennis saw the elf grin.
The lift did not pause until it reached the lower level where the auror's made their home. With each floor they descended, the atmosphere seemed to grow colder and thicker. Dennis disliked going to the Auror's Office, and he suspected they wanted everyone to feel the same. The elf opened the door for him.
"You be careful, Dennis. You don't have a lot of friends down here," the short humanoid warned him.
"Oh, I know that too well, Hoarsely," Dennis answered with a nod of thanks toward the elf. "You take care. Better get a move on 'fore someone decides to complain."
"Let 'em," Hoarsely dryly intoned with a bit of a nasty smirk on his face.
Dennis returned the grin as the elf slammed the gate shut and caused the occupants to jump. It rattled away into the dim recesses of the lift silos. Left alone in the dimly lit, black marble hall of the Auror's Office, Dennis went in search of his first contact.
"Why don't you talk to Potter since you such good friends with him?" Thwacklehorn droned after she told him to enter following a knock on the door, but did not seem pleased as whom she invited inward.
"Because you know more about the guy who attacked me," Dennis flagrantly lied, and mostly due to the fact Harry went out on assignment for the day.
Elaine Thwacklehorn looked genuinely surprise at his response.
"You actually fought him. Harry didn't," he reminded her.
Thwacklehorn nodded her head. She then raised a hand and motioned him inside. In the back of his mind, Dennis heard his mother reminding him a person attracted more flies with sweet cream than sour milk. In Dennis' experience at the Highfield Farms Diary where his father worked, flies did not seem to care one way or the other. However, he understood the lesson she wanted to impart, and he used it. Dennis entered and sat on one of the two uncomfortable chairs before the auror's desk.
"So, what are you after this time?" Auror Thwacklehorn inquired.
"I'd like to talk to him… if I could," Dennis told her.
"Not a good idea, Creevey. Kapékítrinos tried to kill you after all."
"But not very hard. It just sort of seemed to come up at the last minute when we got to Hogwarts. I think going there threw him off, and he didn't actually plan on murdering me. What would be the point? He wouldn't get what he wanted."
"And what did he want?"
The woman sat up and leaned forward after propping her elbows onto the desktop. The navy-and-black striped tie adorning her neck flopped forward as well. It swayed as if caught in a breeze. She stared at him with a flinty glint in her eye. Dennis found it refreshing how she openly wore her disdain for him. At least he knew her starting point.
"That's just it: he never told me. Like I told you, he just wanted a list of everything Lord North gave me… and I couldn't do that without Thomas' permission," Dennis reaffirmed what he stated in the past to the auror.
"You on a first name basis with the earl?"
Dennis could not figure out the if the patronizing tone or the sarcasm came first in her delivery. In the confines of her utilitarian office, her demeanor toward him filled all available open space. He wondered if aurors got special training to produce that particular effect.
"Thomas gets mad at me if I call him sir or lord. He says I've earned the right to be as familiar with him as I want to be. I don't agree, but he won't have it any other way," Dennis stated and shrugged his shoulders to indicate his trapped position.
"And that's the reason why you won't tell us?"
Again, the sarcasm arrived like overcooked treacle.
"You want me to violate the confidence of the ninth Earl of Nottingham?"
Dennis did not augment his tone. He let the words speak for him. Although the magical world dispensed with royalty centuries before, an institution it treated with considerable levity back in the day, the concept still intrigued most witches and wizards. The idea of status by blood did not fade in the magical world. Furthermore, the Minister for Magic never dealt openly with royalty as he did with the British Prime Minister, but deference still seemed the rule of day among magical kind when it came to the nobles of the land. Hence, even a two-and-a-half century dead earl still commanded respect.
Elaine Thwacklehorn's eyes flicked away from Dennis as he waited for her to answer. She did not, and the act proved equally informative. Her response gave him an idea concerning his secrecy violation case with the Ministry. Dennis thought he might stand a chance at wresting a trump card from them.
"We'll save that for later," she stated. Then she asked: "Why do you really want to talk to Kapékítrinos?"
Dennis shrugged a second time like a child trying to act innocent and said: "'Cause he might tell me something he didn't tell you."
"We interrogated him pretty thoroughly, Creevy. I don't see what chance you stand."
"Is he interested in you or me?"
She narrowed her eyes.
"And you'll listen in on the whole conversation even if I ask if we can talk in private, so maybe you can learn something new. This man's got a reason to talk to me, Auror Thwacklehorn, 'cause I'm the one he got paid to find… or maybe will get paid. Either way, he's more likely to open up to me than any of you," Dennis laid out his thinking.
"Hang on," the auror said as she rose from her desk.
Although she did not tell him, Dennis suspected Thwacklehorn went to discuss it with her superiors. He believed they would bite at the idea because he also became bait: the Ministry would want to hear what he said to his assailant regarding Dennis' holdings. The Aurors' Office, he hoped, would find it too tempting to pass up on the chance to make headway in two cases. Although Dennis came up with his plan on the spot, he saw he stumbled on a rather interesting opportunity. In the back of his mind, he debated whether he should thank the Wright's for the wormwood infestation.
"Creevey, with me," Thwacklehorn barked at him ten minutes later.
He rose from the chair and stretched to unkink his back. The design of the chairs appeared entirely purposeful in the effort to make the occupant as uncomfortable as possible. He thought of the number of times he visited Hermione Granger's office only to spend half the time standing. Glad to standing, Dennis followed Auror Thwacklehorn through the maze of desks occupied by fewer agents and more support staff. They went to the far end of the central hall to an unmarked door, painted black, and went through. It opened to a service corridor, also in black marble, and the woman guided him down it. As they traveled along, Dennis saw doors set on either side of the corridor. Next to each a brass plaque got affixed to the wall. Not a one showed any marking on it.
"What's with the little plaques?" He asked, and his voice sounded dead in the hallway.
"Know what 'for your eyes only' means?" She counted.
"Sure. It's from James Bond. My father's a big Sean Connery fan."
"Well, in this case it means you can see what is on the plaques if you've got rights to it, and you don't, Creevey."
The woman dressed in a dark, navy-blue suit with a very muted olive-green shirt and tie, did not sound as if she wanted to engage in conversation. Her shoes did not make a sound on the floor. It made him feel as if he followed a ghost through the hallway. They traversed the entire length until they ended up at a larger than normal door with the knob set in the center. Auror Thwacklehorn did not reach for the shiny knob and, instead, touched her wand to the brass plaque next to the entryway. She whispered a series of words, invoking a complicated spell if Dennis ever heard one, and the door began to swing open. It moved slowly, almost ponderously, until it stood wide open. Thwacklehorn ushered him through. They entered a small foyer decorated in shades of gray, and she went straight to a closed reception desk frosted window.
"Thwacklehorn and… guest. Dennis Creevey. Here to see prisoner zero-four-zero-one-kay-Flagelous. Private interrogation room Delta-Five," the woman said to the window.
Dennis did not hear a response, but then the door next to the reception window swung open. He followed the auror deeper into the aurors' demesne. They walked into another hallway, but quite unlike any other in the Ministry. It also stretched for a long way, but got intersected at regular intervals by cross halls. Small windows dotted all four corners of the intersection. Dennis peaked inside several as he went by. Behind the glass he saw people, miserable looking people, occupying as small personal space consisting of a bed, a loo, and a washstand. It did not take any guesswork to note he passed those incarcerated by the Ministry.
"Why aren't they in Azkaban?" Dennis innocently inquired.
"Most are awaiting trials. Some are serving short sentences. Not everyone goes to Azkaban or Moors Hall, Creevey," Auror Thwacklehorn tersely informed him.
He took her tone as an indication to keep silent.
After turning down a hall and walking a considerable distance, they halted before a door. Thwacklehorn touched her wand to the small plaque, and the inscription D-5 appeared. She angled her face toward him.
"Since you're not Ministry, you can ask him whatever you want. We've got listeners posted, but he doesn't know that, and it doesn't show. You've got twenty minutes, Creevey. Make it count."
The auror pushed on the door. When it opened, Dennis saw Emyrus Kapékítrinos sitting at a table in one of the absurdly uncomfortable chairs. The slight sheen around his ankles, chest, and wrists indicated he got bound to the furniture. Despite that precaution, the young wizard felt his nerves began to twang. Dennis went inside and aimed for the chair on the other side of the small wooden table. Auror Thwacklehorn did not enter and hung back at the door.
"Twenty minutes, Creevey. This is a private room, so no funny business," she stated, and her final three words took on an odd accent.
Dennis caught what she meant and scowled. His reaction elicited a grin from her. Thwacklehorn stepped backward and closed the door. The two men sat alone in a pleasantly lit room, yet the fact they remained in a prison of sorts could not be escaped. Dennis faced the man with a series of bandages on his face, the result of Peeves' attack. He wore a purple and yellow striped set of clothing. It made the man look like a prisoner in every regard.
"What?" Emyrus Kapékítrinos bluntly asked.
"You seem like a professional, so I don't get what happened at the Hogwarts gate," Dennis matched the bluntness with his own.
"Heard stories about that place, and thought you were trying to drag me into that forest. Everyone knows right nasty things live there. Pretty clever of you, you minge," the man grumbled.
"Actually, I was just trying get to the gates and get inside. I knew you wouldn't be able to get past it," the younger wizard confided his plan at the time.
Kapékítrinos eyed him as though he thought Dennis lied. Dennis, however, kept his composure and levelly met the man's gaze. Given he stared into the eyes of enraged Peeves, the orbs of a mortal held no fear for him.
"So… that thing that came after me, that was one of your ghost friends?"
Dennis nodded.
"And you ain't afraid of it?" The man pressed.
"Peeves normally doesn't look or act like that. You tried to kill me, and he figured it out… somehow. Does the fact he protected me prove to you I wasn't lying?" He replied.
The man nodded his head.
"Just so you know, the other ghost, Lord Thomas North, lives at Hogwarts as well. He's the one you need to ask 'bout what he gave me," Dennis said and leaned a bit forward. "As you learned, I'm not going to make the ghosts angry."
"You honestly can't tell me?" Kapékítrinos asked with a healthy dose of confusion in his voice.
"Not unless he says so," Dennis only partially lied. Thomas gave him permission to tell whomever he thought deserved to know, but did not sound enthusiastic about the prospect. The leeway seemed entirely conditional and heavily restricted. "Plus, his daughter is with him, and she's really defensive about him."
The notion Lucia Hughes would turn as violent as Peeves nearly made Dennis start to laugh. She might tut-tut him if he pushed his favored status too far, but that would cover the extent of her reaction. However, Dennis banked on Kapékítrinos experience with Peeves to lead his thinking in completely wrong directions. Based on the physical reaction of the man's face, Dennis got what he wanted.
"Ghosts take friendships pretty damn serious since they don't make a lot of them," he added for good measure. He adjusted his sitting position in the wretched chair and felt a momentary bit of sympathy for the man who could not. "The aurors told me you really don't know what your… I guess employer is after."
"Never told me. Just wanted me to get a list from you," Kapékítrinos flatly stated. "And the aurors ain't lying, either. They used Veritas on me."
"Like you used on me."
The man shrugged as best he could.
"See, that's what' got Peeves involved. He thought you were trying to get me to reveal what I know about him," Dennis decided he wanted the man to know and, by virtue of where he sat, for the aurors to hear the truth again.
"That what made you start screaming like that?" His nemesis inquired.
"The Unbreakable Vow with Peeves."
"You're fucking mental… loony! Barking mad!" Kapékítrinos blurted at him in what appeared to be both astonishment and disgust.
"I take my friendships as serious as the ghosts. I even work for them on my off-time," Dennis further explained loud enough so even the listeners would hear.
The two men sat and faced one another in silence. Dennis could see Emyrus Kapékítrinos trying to get a read on his overall mental state. Everyone reacted the same way when they heard he made an Unbreakable Vow with a poltergeist. However, Dennis would never again question his decision since it saved his life. Furthermore, he sincerely liked and respected Peeves despite his annoying behaviors and quirks. The man who used to wear a yellow bowler narrowed his eyes and glanced around.
"Kid, here's some advice you need to take: know when the odds are stacked against you," Kapékítrinos half-whispered.
"And how would I know when that is?" Dennis queried.
"Are you really too damn stupid to be afraid? You think I was the only one out there watching you?"
"I'm nobody important, so that doesn't make a lot of sense to me."
The small interrogation room felt cramped. It could hold another two people at best, and Dennis could not figure out how the aurors listened to the conversation. He kept from glancing about the room as well and stayed focused on Kapékítrinos. The man regarded him with a curious expression.
"You're not, kid, but it's not everyone who knows a dead earl. 'Sides, you raised more than few eyebrows with some of the goods you was selling. That star… alignment thingy? Heard tell no one's seen one of those, a working version, for around a hundred years. Ever wonder why someone was willing to pay three-thousand galleons for it?"
Dennis felt his eyebrows raised. He thought he made a private sale, and yet the man knew how much he got for the piece. Thomas warned him many would try to underbid the actual value of it, so Dennis held his ground while he made negotiations. The fact Lord North calmly helped guide him in the transactions could not be dismissed. Dennis believed the first time someone offered him five-hundred galleons, he would sell on the spot. He started to worry about a few of the other sales he made.
"Old ma7gic is worth it," Kapékítrinos said and nodded his head. "There's talk your ghost of Lord North might've been holding onto a couple more valuable pieces. Don't know who told you to play it close and quiet, but you did the right thing… and the wrong thing."
"Wrong thing? How can it be both right and wrong?" The younger man chirped with skepticism.
"Right in that no one knows for certain what you got, so nobody'll come blasting you for it right away. Wrong because no one knows for certain what you got, and they want to know. A copy of that report you gave to the Ministry 'bout somebody killing that lord of yours got out. That raised even more questions 'cause, I'll be honest, history seems to've forgotten him. Now, why do you suppose that is?"
The man asked questions Dennis pondered for the past eight months. He frowned because knowing what Lord North bequeathed to him pointed to the very reason why: Thomas and his mother's family hid a big secret. It seemed a foregone conclusion that his mother's family went to lengths to expunge Thomas from the history books to maintain the secret possession of the Heptagon. The fact it rested in a location that kept it safely out of view helped. However, Dennis never imagined the sale of some of the North relics would reignite interest. Of course, to discover a wizard noble got murdered by another wizard would pique the curiosity. Dennis breathed heavily through his nose.
"Looks to be did you did give it a thought or two," Kapékítrinos hummed the words.
"It did seem… odd when I was doing research for him… about him. But nothing in Thomas' private collection looks important. I think it's mostly stuff you'd find any wizard or witch using at the time. I went to the Hekate Museum to get more information, and what Lord North saved for himself looked more personal than important. Even that astrolabe wasn't that serious of an item. Just old," Dennis responded and tried to downplay the items he found in the private study.
"And you're a trained expert?"
"Fair point there," Dennis immediately conceded. "But I did research on all the stuff. I think people are making a bigger deal out of it than it needs to be. Even from a historical perspective it's not that important."
"So, ah… nothing really strange in there?" Kapékítrinos further inquired.
"What? Other than Thomas used a stave instead of wand, and he made himself a book of spells? He had some old scrolls, but I've got better charms in my schoolbooks. There was a picture of his mum, but I figured that was too personal to let go. Some of his descendants are interested it, so I'll probably ship it off to them."
Dennis hoped it did not appear too obvious he sidestepped describing everything. In truth, Thomas did not keep very much in his old study. The astrolabe and an ancient scrying scope fetched the highest sums when sold. Dennis kept only what he deemed too personal or worth very little, aside from the items Thomas told him to keep in the vault. He retained the ancient calculator simply because he liked it and found it interesting. The Heptagon and obsidian orb, however, needed to be minded according to the deceased earl. Dennis still did not know about or understand the function of the orb.
"Seriously? That's all you found?" The man queried in disbelief and scratched at the side of his neck through the stubble of several days of beard growth.
"Look, everything else he owned belonged to the title, and his brother got all of that… 'cept what got set aside for his wife and children. His daughters got married off into nice families, and his wife died pretty early on, so what else could there be? It's not like wizarding was Thomas' first priority," Dennis laid out a plausible explanation.
"Huh," Kapékítrinos softly harrumphed.
"Everyone thinks it's a big mystery, but it's not. It was mostly personal items he probably would've left to his daughters anyway. His room stayed hidden 'cause he placed spells and wards on it to keep muggles out. Just common sense, even back then. They'd've burned Thomas at the stake if anyone found out he was magical."
"Yeah, there is that, but you know there's rumors he was using magic to run his estates. He and his father did some dodgy land grab tricks."
"You mean with the Hickings?" Dennis countered and started to chuckle. "Nothing magical about that unless you count smart thinking as magical. Anyway, where's any proof he used magic to run the estates?"
"Thought it might be in his study," Kapékítrinos sheepishly confessed.
"Oh, like he'd keep a great big ledger with entries in it 'bout what spell he used to grow grains or make the cows fat. You make it sound like he was running around using imperius on everyone. Don't be daft."
Dennis laughed, and it sounded muted in the room. He would bet the aurors put dampening spells on the interrogation room so people could not stand outside and listen to whatever transpired on the inside. However, Auror Thwacklehorn said they stationed 'listeners' at the room, but Dennis could not figure out if that meant people or spells. Regardless, he continued with his mocking laughter.
"Sure. Right. It does sound a little mental when you put it like that, but why didn't you just say all that from the start?" The man asked and shifted the trajectory of the talk.
"And what business is it of yours? That was private between me and Thomas. Just 'cause you say you want something doesn't mean you're going to get it. Least ways it never worked out like that for me," Dennis continued to chide the man.
Kapékítrinos frowned at him.
"I hope whoever hired you is feeling pretty stupid about now. They were chasing something that didn't exist. It was probably more fun in theory than in fact, and then you had to go and try to kill me over it. You're lucky I wanted to save Peeves 'cause I honestly felt like letting him take you out."
The man's face shifted through several expression until it settled on anger. He glared at Dennis. Dennis coolly met his gaze.
"You play a dangerous game, kid," said Kapékítrinos almost under his breath.
"No, I don't. I'm not playing any game. Peeves is my friend, and he helped me. Thomas is my friend. I helped him and he gave me that stuff as a reward of sorts. That's what you and your employer don't understand: it's just some friends lending a hand to each other. Since I'm the only one with real legs, I get to do all the walking about," Dennis elucidated yet again. "They were there for me when I really needed someone, and I'm just returning the favor. That's what nobody seems to get."
"Ghosts were there for you?"
Emyrus Kapékítrinos did not disguise the contempt at such an idea. Dennis shook his head. The man would bear scars the rest of his days because he underestimated the ties Dennis built with the post-living at Hogwarts. Although he never intended Peeves to rush to his rescue, the fact it worked out that way spoke volumes about how the poltergeist regarded him. Somehow, Kapékítrinos missed out on that in life. In a small way, Dennis felt sorry for the man. He slowly stood.
"Yeah, ghosts were there for me. I learned a lot from them while they kept me company. I didn't have a great time at school the last few years, and they helped me get through it. I owe the ghosts, and some portraits, too, whatever service I can give them. It's why I helped Thomas. It's why Peeves helped me. Is there something about how this works that puzzles you?"
"Fuck off," the man grunted.
Dennis shook his head as he said: "Funny, isn't it? Peeves risked himself to save me from you. Where's this employer of yours? Come to visit you? Oh, wait. That's right. You aren't friends. You get paid… and that's it."
"Hang on! Did I forget to tell you to fuck off?" Kapékítrinos grumbled.
A smirk emerged on the young wizard's face. Although he did not elicit the exact information he wanted, Dennis found he got more than he expected. Emyrus Kapékítrinos produced a few surprising insights, several of which deeply disturbed Dennis. He squirreled the information away in the back of his mind for when he would record it in his notebooks. As he studied the man, he found he did not fear Kapékítrinos. The man when out of his way to frighten him, and Dennis felt he learned an entirely different lesson from the various encounters. Moreover, he felt he learned as much he as could from the visit.