Chapter 4: Time Makes Beggars

It had the makings of a horribly embarrassing Easter holiday. I even told myself that in the bathroom mirror a I heard noises from outside telling me that everybody was up except for me; Hieronymus, being two, was being very two and telling Melody 'no' in a very loud voice, probably because of her insistence that he be fed normal food instead of just bacon. I swear the kid subsisted on bacon sandwiches as well as peanut butter sandwiches, much to my delight and my wife's dismay. Virginia was crying but I heard Lavinia talking to her, which usually fixed things but it seemed like she was bent on a full-on wail. Not only was my house in an uproar but later that day Mike and Cho would stop by with Jack, who had turned one not too long ago, and it would be a full out nappie-fest. I don't know how Molly and Arthur did it. Probably liberal amount of alcohol. Merlin knows I'd need those to make it through whatever Mike brought over in his box of mementos.

To be honest the pictures that Christine had left for Melody weren't that bad; most of them were of me and Mike goofing off with our painfully eighties haircuts and clothing, but there were a few of just me and Christine. Thankfully nothing that was too private, and for one I was glad that the eighties didn't have many instant options except Polaroid cameras. Nobody took horribly incriminating pictures like they can with mobile phones and digital cameras. Unless you had a darkroom back then nobody could develop anything risqué because the 2 Hour Photo place wouldn't do it. And then I thought that Christine did have a darkroom back then, as she made one in her little shitty apartment. Fuck.

"Hank! A little help?" Melody's voice came muffled, but loud, through the door.

"There in a minute." I tossed the towel into the bathroom, completely missing the hook on the back of the door but I'd get it later; more important was whatever Melody needed. And when I got there, well, it was pretty important, as Hieronymus clung to her leg and she had Virginia in one arm, her wand in the other, trying to clean up Virginia as she had a rather explosive nappy. "Wow, you weren't kidding." I leaned down and pulled Hieronymus from Melody's leg, wailing and kicking. "Come on, little man, let your mom fix your sister's butt."

I took him into my office, still wailing, and even after I put on music he didn't calm down. Not knowing what else to do I picked him up and started walking around the room, and when we walked past the portrait of Minerva McGonagall he stopped wailing and reached for the painting. I stopped, walked back and stood in front of Minerva.

"I take it someone is not having a good morning." She gave me an understated smile, mostly for my benefit.

"Oh yeah." I adjusted Hieronymus in my arms. "Say hello, Hieronymus."

"H'lo." He waved at the former Headmistress of Hogwarts. "Story?"

"Sorry, Minerva." I switched arms so Hieronymus could be near the painting and drug a chair with my other hand in short, scraping bursts so I could sit with him. "This would be so much easier with magic." I saw her look. "The chair, moving the chair, that's what I meant."

"If you would have said something about magic quieting the boy I would have told Melody, but I know you better than that, Hank." She smiled and then looked at Hieronymus, and he clapped his hands when Minerva's tabby cat jumped up on her lap. "So, young Hieronymus, would you like to hear 'Babbitty Rabbitty' again?"

I sat there and listened with my son as Minerva told the story again, one of his favorites, and to be honest I sort of lost track of time. It was only later, when I heard the door open and saw my wife, fully dressed and presentable, that I realized we had been in there for a long time, and that Minerva had moved on from Babbitty Rabbitty to other stories.

Melody leaned down and kissed my bald spot. "You two look so sweet there, listening to Minerva. I hate to interrupt, but Mike and Cho are here, and Mike's got something for you."

"It better be my Cure albums." I looked down to Hieronymus and realized he was almost asleep. "Is it his nap time? Don't want to get him off schedule."

"It's fine, Hank." Melody picked him up gently from my lap and he snuggled into her. "Thank you, Minerva. They're putting Jack down now, so go see Mike. He seemed rather sad."

I returned the chair to its rightful place, this time without a ton of scraping and noise, and walked into the living room, where Mike sat with a box on the floor next to his feet. Melody was right; he did look rather sad.

"Mike, what's wrong?" I went over and sat across from him. "Its Easter, can't be that bad."

He gave me a weak smile. "Got this the other day when I was over at the States. Had an audition, some cop show, but that's not important. Stopped over to see your parents as always, and it came for you in the mail. Guess they didn't have your new address." He took a deep breath. "Hank, Professor Eittel passed away."

"What? Oh shit. No." I sat back in the chair and took off my glasses. "When? How?"

"Died in his sleep. He had some health problems." He leaned down, picked up the box and handed it to me. "That's from his estate. His sister in Oregon didn't know where to send it, I guess, and the last address of yours that Eittel had must have been your folks'. They're having a remembrance ceremony next week."

"Hank?" Melody sat next to me. "Was this one of your former professors?"

"Yeah, and more." I turned to her and felt the swell begin in my chest, that swell that happens when emotions flood a body. "He was my advisor when I became an English major. More than that, though, he was a mentor. Lived in this huge, ramshackle house he'd done up painted lady style, all crazy colors, and with a ton of greenery. Yard was maybe as big as our living room all put together." I looked over to Mike. "Remember the parties?"

Mike nodded and a genuine smile crossed his face. "Oh yeah. That's where we learned to drink, remember? Especially that year we rented the house behind his." He turned to Cho. "We were broke as hell and I think he took pity on us, feeding us for most of the summer." he turned back to me. "Remember when Cori convinced him to put on that little thing, what'd she call it, an Intimate Film Festival? Got a lot of people looking for the wrong kind of movies. Instead of pornos 'intimate' meant a small group of people. The three frat guys were really pissed off when they found out we were watching Polish films."

I laughed. "Totally. What did that one meathead say as he left? Something like he was there for sex, not subtitles. Eittel told him that even though he was gay the dude wasn't his type. Hilarious." I felt a wave of fear come over me. "What about Lindell? Does he get to keep the house?" I turned to Melody. "Lindell was Eittel's partner. They got together about a year after I finished my undergraduate degree."

"Don't know." Mike shrugged. "You can ask him at the ceremony. You're going, right?"

"Of course. Yeah, I'm going." I turned to Melody. "Sorry, I've got to do this. If you don't want to go, I understand. But this is something I've got to do."

"I understand, Hank. I understand." She put her hand on mine. "Do you want to open the box? You don't have to."

"Oh yeah, that." I picked up the box and saw my name in Eittel's distinctive writing. I'd seen enough of his comments on my papers, poems and essays over the years that it was as if I was back at college. After a deep breath I opened the box to find a letter on top with my full name printed out. He always loved to give me crap about my full name, saying my mother gave me all those names for a reason and to not use them would be a disservice to mom. I slid open the envelope and pulled out the letter.

Dear Henry Aaron MacDonald Boyd,

My good friend, I am afraid that these last few years have not been kind to me. Cancer does not care that I still have articles left to write, books that I have put off reading for far too many years, films yet unseen. But enough about my tenuous grasp on this mortal coil, I have a confession for you.

Your acceptance of me as a professor, as a friend, as your advisor meant much, but I kept something from you for years, and then, when I found we inhabit the same secret world, I could not find the time to pick up a pen or dash off an email, for which I am profoundly sorry. You see, Henry, I know of your world. My sister Linda is a witch. She attended Houdini, married a wizard named Harvey and had children that have also attended Houdini. It was only while assisting my nephew with his homework, a Muggle Studies assignment, that I realized who exactly wrote his textbook. You can imagine my surprise, finding out that one of my best students (and yes, you were one of my best students, if not the most diligent) was not only writing textbooks but teaching at such an illustrious school as Hogwarts!

I should have dashed off a letter to you then and there, but family obligations, not to mention academic obligations, kept me from that letter. I started it several times, and I believe there are a few half-hearted drafts that remain in my possession, but Lindell will take care of those for me. Time makes beggars of us all.

I know your struggles to become a professor in this, my non-magical world, but I ask you this; isn't all of the world magical? Reading up on you it has become apparent that you are familiar with the magic of the everyday, as you have a son. Hieronymus is a fine name, and enough that you hopefully didn't saddle the poor boy with two more besides Boyd. Look at your son and tell me if you do not see the magic in this world, whether the lad ever waves a wand or, like me, must sit on the sidelines as a sibling enters that world.

But I do not harbor any anger, any ill feelings for not being magical. As I said, there is magic all around us. The shadows and light through the trees on a warm summer's night, the prose of our favorite authors, the music of Puccini, examine that and tell me if there is no magic in the Muggle world. I have lived a life full of magic, the magic of friends such as you, Mike Greene and his Cori. I look forward to seeing Cori again, to hear her musical laughter, listen as she convinces me to embark on some haphazardly conceived party or plan. And I will see you someday as well, and then, when all the cares of this world have passed, we can once again sit down and discuss literature, life, and you can tell me the full story of what you wrote. Oh yes, I have read your books. Some of your best writing, much better than those horrible science-fiction things you used to write. You have real emotion in your prose, even if you still use too many parentheticals and are an indifferent user of language's greatest gift, the semi-colon. But someday you can tell me about these things; we will sit under a tree, drinking too many cocktails and smoking too many cigarettes, and it will not matter. For we will have time, just as you have one of the most precious gifts, the most magical gift anyone could ever have. Time. I have had that time with Lindell, and he is truly the most magical gift I could have every received. Please write to him, as I have left him instructions regarding a gift to you. And before you refuse, as you always do, think of this as a request from your old advisor.

And let me advise you one last time, before I go. I know I shan't need to go into detail, because you grasp it naturally; remember the affect you have on your students. My experience has shown that even the student that did not speak much in class, the one who only turned in the papers and listened to the lectures, that student is affected just as much as the ones who participate. I cannot tell you how many students have come to me in the years after their graduation and related how I have impacted their life, and sometimes I remembered them, sometimes not, but it does not matter. You are an educator; that means more than the subject matter, that means you educate them on all manner of things.

I wish that we had more time, that I would have taken the time to write to you before now, but I soon go to shuffle off to the next great adventure.

Keep reading. Keep learning. Keep living.

Robert

I was in tears by the time I finished the letter. Melody had her arm linked through mine, her head on my shoulder. Mike was wiping away tears as well. I stood up, the letter still in my hand, and went over to the bar, but when I got there it was as if my brain had been erased. "Mike, what was that drink we invented over at Eittel's? You know the one."

Mike's laughter was a welcome sound. "Shit, I don't know. Been years." He walked over to the bar. "Hmmm...let's see."

A few moments and too many different bottles of liquor later we stood with two tumblers full of a weird smelling mixture. I raised my glass. "To Doctor Eittel."

"To Eittel."

We drank at the same time and a few seconds after the alcohol hit my lips I turned to Mike. His face looked like what I guessed mine looked like. "Holy shit, that's awful. How did we drink that crap?"

He shook his head a few times and coughed. "No clue, man, no clue. That's really...God, that tasted like shit."

"Hank?" Melody looked over at me with the box in her hands. "You need to see this."

I walked over and took the box from Melody and there, in the box, were three books. One was My Wand is Useless, another my Muggle Studies textbook and the third was one of the Harry Potter Adventure series books. I pulled out Useless and flipped through it. There, in the margins, was Eittel's inimitable scrawl, commenting on certain passages, correcting my grammar one one section, but mostly they were comments on what had happened. I sat that down and picked up my textbook to see the same things, but this time there were also suggestions for lessons and test questions. That made me laugh. Then, with some curiosity, I picked up the Potter Adventure series book. It was the first one, and after opening up the cover I found a note from Eittel. He wrote that at first he wondered if I wrote the book, but after reading it for a few moments he said there was no way I could have written it as the writing was 'horrendous.' I flipped through the pages some more and, just like the other books, there were notations.

"Hank?" Mike came over and handed me a cup of coffee. "You need this, trust me. Gets the taste out. Everything ok?"

"Yeah. Thanks." I took the coffee, had a sip and put it down on the table. "Just thinking about things." I put the book down on the table, knowing I'd review Eittel's notes on the Potter Adventure series later. He was always a quick study when it came to a specific author's style. I turned back to everyone. "Sorry, about that. Happy Easter."

The rest of Easter went by in a subdued manner. Mike had thankfully forgotten some of the things he'd promised to bring over, things about Christine. Rowan. Shit, whatever her name was, she'd always be Christine to me. One thing he had remembered was embarrassing.

"Here, man. Found this in my old stack of tapes." He handed me a blank cassette which I'd haphazardly slapped a label on, as it was my writing. "Had to steal this from you, you wouldn't stop listening to the damn thing."

I turned it over in my hands. "Shit! I thought I'd lost this, but you stole it, you bastard." I pulled out the card and took a look at the track listing. "Oh my God, I see why you stole it. I mean, this is the most depressing shit ever. The Cure off of Disintegration, four songs by The Smiths including 'Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want,' that sad Smithereens song, U2's 'All I Want is You'...good grief, and I put Fleetwood Mac's 'Go Your Own Way' on this?"

"Yeah." Mike rolled his eyes. "I remember one drunken night, sitting up on the roof with you, and you kept saying over and over how Lindsay Buckingham was really, really angry. That its one the angriest songs ever or some bullshit. I think that was the night you puked in the bathtub."

"Ugh. Don't remind me." I looked over to see Melody, Cho and Lavinia giving me one of those looks. "Shut up. I was young. My heart was broken. I didn't know how to deal, ok?"

Thankfully the discussion of my inability to deal with a breakup back then was interrupted by an owl at the window. Mike was the closest, so he opened the window, took the letter, gave the owl a treat and shut the window.

"Letter for you, Hank. Auror seal."

"Shit." I took the letter from Mike and opened it up. After a few minutes I knew that Melody wasn't going to be happy. "Uh, Mel? It's from Ron. Looks like I'll be heading over to the States earlier than we thought."

Surprisingly, though, she wasn't angry. "Maybe you'll be able to stay for your professor's ceremony. Just be careful, Hank. Remember, we have little ones now."

"Yeah." I looked over to the stack of books from Eittel. "Remember what's important."

-ooo-

I met Ron the next day at his office at the Ministry, and even though it was on Auror business it was a nice trip. Edith's smiling face met me with a cup of tea, just like old times. After I'd done the inevitable and shown her pictures of the kids Ron finally got irritated and told her that we could catch up later, that I was there for work. She gave him a hard time and left his office, and that's when we got down to business.

"Ok, Hank, the AAB has sent us some intel about that author, and we need your help. We're heading over there, story is you're going to a funeral..."

"What?" I almost dropped my tea. "How'd you know about that?"

"Calm down, Merlin. Think about it, Hank. You think the AAB doesn't search everything sent to you at your parent's house? Be daft if we didn't, or they didn't, but you know what I mean. We didn't read your letter, don't get angry. Besides, his sister is a witch. He knew about the secrecy statues and we can't let that slip out. I'm sorry, but there is a history of people writing letters right before they pass letting out all sorts of secrets. Ministry here's got a file full of 'em, mostly from squibs." His voice changed from the Auror voice to a softer tone. "And I'm sorry, Hank. Reminds me of when McGonagall passed. Even though I wasn't the best student I still miss her." He took a deep breath. "All right, enough about that. We're going over to New Orleans and meeting Malfoy. He's got some information but said you'd be the best person for this. Lavender agreed, apparently. So blame them, not me."

"Great." I sank back in my chair. "Harry going? Wait, are you going?"

"Yep, right on both counts." He nodded. "Hermione's not very happy, and neither's my sister, but it can't be helped. We've already cleared it with Titus."

"How long is this...thing?" I pushed my glasses to the top of my head. "I mean, what do I need? Anything special?"

"Yeah." He leaned forward. "You need your brains, whatever skill you have about books, all the Auror toys you've accumulated over the years and yes, that includes your guns."

"Fuck." I took off my glasses and stuck them in my pocket. "I'm not sure about this, Ron. I mean, its one thing to go over and help with this book and shit but I can't go off like I'm...well, whatever. I've got kids, now, Ron."

"And so do me an' Harry." Ron gave me a serious look. "But we know you're not an Auror."

"Am too. I have an office and everything. Even got this." I picked my badge off my robe and lifted it up slightly. "But I'm not a field Auror, Ron. Harry promised."

"Yeah, well..." Ron ducked his gaze for a moment and then met mine. "Harry can't keep this promise, not when he's Head Auror. This is bigger'n us, mate."

"So the book telling lies about y'all..."

"Shut it, that's not it." Ron shook his head. "The WLF's involved, remember them? Knights of the Wand, remember them? I'm sure your parents remember. It's not just here in Britain and in the UMS, not anymore. Starting to go worldwide. And somehow WLF shite is getting in those books, and we need to know why. Is it a code? Are they secret messages? Who's getting the Galleons from those books? Who's printing that utter rubbish? Harry says the goblins have it right, 'follow the gold.' Well, that's what we're trying to do, follow the gold. Malfoy's got something, but wouldn't say in a letter, and that means its big. So put on your big boy pants, mate. Strap on your bang bangs and get ready."

Fuck me.

-ooo-

Melody took it about as well as could be expected, but I left out the part where Ron told me to bring my guns. I knew better than that. Easier to ask forgiveness than permission. I had two days to get everything ready, and I spent that time as best as I could; I spent that time taking care of Hieronymus and Virginia, not to mention Melody.

It was that last day, the day before I left, when Lavinia found me downstairs in the rocking chair, a sleeping Virginia in one arm and Eittel's copy of the Potter Adventure series.

"Hank?" Lavinia stuck her head around the corner and smiled as she saw Virginia. "She's out out?"

"Yep." I nodded. My daughter could sleep through a herd of elephants if she was asleep, thank heavens. "What's up?"

She walked over and sat across from me, perched on the edge of the chair. "Um, well...Melody said that you'll be leaving on Auror things, but I wanted to ask you something before you left."

"Ok, shoot." I closed the book and sat it on the floor very slowly as to not wake my daughter. "What's on your mind?"

"Willy and, well, your ex-girlfriend."

"Huh?" I squinted at her. "Come again?"

"You really loved her, didn't you?" She reached up and fingered the locket Melody and I bought for her years ago. "But it didn't last."

"Oh sweetie." I smiled. "You're thinking about you and Willy, aren't you?"

"What if..."

I stopped her. "Vinny, hold on. You'll be seventeen in June. I know it seems like people at Hogwarts pair off for life for some odd reason, maybe it's because there's no college afterwards, that's when people in the Muggle world get together, well, a lot of them do, but Vin, you're sixteen going on seventeen, not twenty-seven. Dating and, well, serious dating are something you learn as you go. If things happen they usually happen for a reason. I mean, look at me. If I had ended up with Christine I'd never have met Melody, hell, I probably wouldn't teach at Hogwarts. And if that happened there'd be no Hieronymus or Virginia." I gently smoothed the downy hair of my daughter. "If you play the 'what if' game you'll go nuts, trust me. I mean, I did that with Christine. And that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt or suck, because it does hurt and it does suck."

She laughed nervously. "It must have, if you put those songs on that tape."

"Oh God, don't tell me you listened to that."

She nodded. "It was just so...depressing, Hank."

"Well, I was depressed. But I got over it." I took a deep breath. "Lavinia, look at me. If it is to be, then it will be. You can't force things. Have you talked to Willy?"

"Well..." she fidgeted with her locket "...no, I haven't. Not since holiday started."

"You could write him a letter but that's easy to misunderstand; talk to him. Later, when you get back to Hogwarts."

She gave me a weak smile. "Thanks. I will. Want me to take her?"

"Nah." I shook my head. "Just hand me the book, will you?"

Lavinia picked up the book, flipped it open, looked at it oddly and then handed it to me. "That's a lot of comments."

"Yeah." I smiled. "He was a helluva professor. Hard, I mean, you earned your A's in his class. Hell, the B I got in Shakespeare was something else, I was damn proud of that." I looked at her and knew she needed something to bring her out of her funk. "Tell you what, why don't you do the same thing? Go get the one out of my bookshelf and read it, make notes in it, stuff you think is weird. Wait, don't do that, you'd end up making notes in the whole damn thing. Just comment when you want, ok? Think of it as helping me, and, uh..."

"I know you're helping Harry and Ron, Hank."

"Hmmm..." I closed one eye and squinted at her. "Can't decide if that's a Ravenclaw or Slytherin statement."

"Funny.' She rolled her eyes. "You're so funny. I'll read it." She began to walk out of the room and turned back at me. "Ravenclaw I could handle, but not Slytherin. That was low."

"Oh go on, you'll live."

-ooo-

Ron, Harry and I, in our Muggle finest, or what Ron called 'my usual American crap' arrived at the International Portkey Terminal in New Orleans two days after my talk with Lavinia. I mentally thanked Melody for the fifth time about her 'bigger on the inside' backpack that she'd given me a few years ago, shouldered it and looked over to Ron as we were processed through customs. Thankfully our Auror badges sent us through the very short line as opposed to the long line of other arrivals. "So, Ron, what's first? Hotel or meeting?"

"Meeting." He said it very curtly and looked away.

"Jesus. All right." I looked over to Harry. "What's up his ass?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah, he and Hermione..."

"That's enough." I waved my hand quickly. "Don't need anymore, thanks."

We walked through the terminal until we found the Floo that said Garden District. Ron handed me a piece of paper. "What's this?"

He rolled his eyes. "The address? Do you know where we're going?"

"No, I don't." I took a look at the paper. "Is this a thing where you can't know where the building is..."

"A Fidelius?" Harry shook his head. "No, it's just that you're not the best at the Floo, Hank."

"Shit." I scowled. "Screw up once and end up in an abandoned pub in Aberdeen and nobody forgets. Fine."

I watched Harry go through the Floo and then stood there for a moment, grabbed a pinch of Floo powder and threw it down, making sure to enunciate the address very clearly, not just to make sure I got it right but also to let Weasley know that I could use the Floo just fine, thank you very much. When I arrived Harry was shaking hands with Draco Malfoy. I brushed off the powder and shook Draco's extended hand as Ron arrived via Floo.

"Good to see you, Draco."

"And you too, Hank, though I wish it was under more pleasurable circumstances."

"You still talk like a ponce, Malfoy." Ron siphoned the Floo powder off, but his tone wasn't nasty when he spoke.

"Weasley, as charming as ever." Draco smiled and then shook Ron's hand. "Is Hermione pregnant again? You are a Weasley, I expect at least six or seven before you're through."

Harry laughed and put his hands on their shoulders. "I'm sure we can insult each other later, just for old time's sake, but we're here for a reason."

"Yeah, where are we, anyway?" I took a look around at the office; tastefully appointed furniture, bookshelves, ledgers, and a laptop over in the corner. A laptop? "Hey Draco, how'd you get the laptop to work? I thought magic fried the insides."

"Ah, yes." He stepped over to the desk and sat down, indicating that we should sit. Since there were only two chairs Harry conjured a chair for himself. Draco nodded towards the laptop. "One of George Weasley's ventures, actually. Its shielded from magic, something that I didn't really understand, but it is quite effective. Now, Hank, as to why you are here I'm afraid it has to do with those books. For where we are specifically, this is my office at DAS Enterprises. We have ventures both in the Muggle and Wizarding world, and for dealing with Muggles this is our office. The staff here are mostly Muggles except for my assistant. I should warn you..."

Before he could finish there was a knock at the door and before he could answer a tall, thin young man walked in wearing khakis and a polo shirt. "Sorry boss, your friends will have to reschedule. Your 2pm is here early and insists on speaking with David Miller."

"David Miller?" Ron looked at Malfoy and laughed. "What, you think Muggles might not think you're one of them with a name like Draco Malfoy?"

Draco smiled. "You should hear some of the names Muggles have, but you are right, Weasley. It is a rather wizarding name." He turned to his assistant. "Jean-Paul, tell Mr. Cartwright that I am finishing up a very important matter and will be available in a few minutes. Stall him as long as you can before he gets angry."

Jean-Paul shook his head. "Too late, boss, he's already mad. Permits didn't go through."

"Merlin." Draco shook his head and turned to Harry. "You'd think the Ministry was a piece of cake compared to getting all the proper Muggle forms entered." He looked over to me. "We're building a hospital. Completely Muggle, in all aspects, and apparently forms are a part of that. I will meet you later for supper, then we can discuss everything."

Everyone stood up so I followed suit. As I shook his hand he smiled at me. "I believe you will find your accommodations..."

"Oh no." I shook my head and let his hand go. "I'm not staying at The Vanishing Spectre again. No way, I'll get my own place."

"Hank, please." He smiled. "You're at the Bon Charme. Marie, you remember Marie Chennault from your honeymoon, don't you? Marie was quite pleased to give you the honeymoon suite again. Sorry you're with these two, though. Melody is much better looking."