A/N: This is the first time I've ever tried to write in a style like this, and I have mixed feelings about how it turned out. I think that it's alright, but I don't think I'll write in this style again until I'm really ready for it.


Daily Prophet

THE HUMBLE HERO

15/4/2008

By Tony Miriz

Editors note: The following story is a series of interviews gathered by Tony. Though by different people, they all tell the story of a man we shall call Mr. Stiles for privacy reasons. Mr. Stiles refused to be interviewed, citing that the reason that he had just done what everyone else had done. Because of this, Tony was forced to obtain different views for it. What follows is as a complete a tale as we could gather. Please note that these interviews were edited (with permission) to make a more seamless story.


"My son was always a stubborn son of bastard, but it went to whole new levels during the war. I know that he probably doesn't want his story told, but I think that now, when we remember all the people who died ten years ago, we should also remember the people who did their part to fight back, especially the ones who never got the recognition."

"I first saw him helping the wandless* as I was passing through Diagon Alley. It was toward the end of the day, and most of us were just eager to get home. I'm not proud to admit that I ignored the wandless who begged at the streets. It was winter, and most of them looked no better than beggars. It's not that I didn't want to help them you understand, but it was dangerous to do so, or at least looked down on, and so I did my best to ignore them."

"I was about halfway toward the Leaky Cauldron when I saw him. He was still in his work robes, but I knew my son well enough to make him out. The damn fool was out there, floating a giant cauldron of something steaming and handing out bowls to a crowd of the poor Muggle-borns. I'll admit, my first instinct was to see if there were any Death Eater's around to see him. My second instinct was to march over there and grab him before he got into trouble."

"He didn't like that too much, and before I had dragged him too far off, he had pushed me off and informed me that I could talk with him, but first he had to finish giving out clothes to the wandless. I wasn't overly pleased with that, but he was pretty firm with me, so I waited for him to be done."

"Once he had handed out enough broth to empty the cauldron, he went over to a great big bag he had lugged there and pulled out several sets of clean robes that he handed out. After that, he consented to look at anyone's injuries. I had grown quite worried by now, I don't mind saying. It had grown dark while I was waiting there, and I had already seen more than a few of the people passing giving us funny looks. I had tried to hurry him up, but both times he shook me off and told me to wait, and that he would be done when he was done and until then the best thing I could do was to not bother him."

"Well, at last, he finishes up, and he says 'well Dad, what did you want to talk to me about?' like it was no big deal what he had been doing. I dragged him over to the closest area which we could have a little privacy, a little nook between two shops that had closed down and I had a talk with him."

"I told him in no uncertain terms that what he was doing was stupid. I told him that it could cause serious trouble for him, that he could lose his job, that any number of things could happen to him. I was scared for him, and I think he saw that. He had to be spending a fair amount of gold to get the things that he was buying, and in those days, it was best just to keep your head down if you wanted to be safe. The less you stood out, the better as far as I was concerned."

"Well, my son just laughed at me, and said that he had figured I would say that. When I opened my mouth to retort, he shut it for me and told me that he had thought through everything. He knew what he was doing, and had already thought about the risks involved. I tried to protest, but he spoke over me and listed off every single one of the risks he was taking."

"Then, he told me, face to face, like I am to you now, that he had already thought through what he was doing, and he had come to the conclusion that he could face a little bit of danger if it gave the wandless some hope that things would go back to normal."

"There wasn't really much I could say to that, except that I was proud of him. And that he had always been this stubborn. I was still worried about him, but he could make his own decisions, and I could respect that. I went home and he went home. I told my wife, and to be honest, she wasn't too thrilled about it either.

"I started walking along Diagon Alley around dusk more often after that. Sometimes I saw him and sometimes I didn't. Maybe when I didn't see him I got worried, and maybe sometimes when I did see him I may have helped him, but the wandless I saw there always looked alive, and more often than not they looked hopeful."


"I've known my brother for a long time. I guess that most siblings could say that, but in our case, we've known each other for the respective entirety of our lives. I'm five minutes older than him, making me the wise one, and so I wasn't surprised when he showed up at the house where I lived with my husband."

"I knew what he was doing, and, honestly, I hated that he did it alone. I tried to join him once, but he told me firmly that I had a kid and a family, and he didn't, and that I had enough on my plate without trying to help him. And then less than a week after that, my nightmares come true and he comes knocking at my door."

"He was leaning pretty heavily against the door frame, and he was dripping blood from his nose. Like any sister, I hurried him in and started playing healer. It didn't take long for me to realize that he had somehow managed to let a few Death Eaters catch him helping the wandless."

"I told him that he should have been more careful, but he only grinned at me and asked me to not tell mum, like he was just a teenager who had just snuck out to fly on their parent's broom. I could tell that he was more shaken then he was telling, but I agreed to it. He wasn't going to stop, even now that it hurt him to sit up."

"He was going to go back to his flat, but I forced him to stay still on my sofa. My son was sleeping, and my husband wasn't too likely to be back tonight, so it was alright if he stayed here. I was terrified for him, about what could happen to him and I wished that I could help him. I told him as much, and he just laughed at me and said he didn't blame me. He said that he didn't have a family of his own to worry about, and that's why he could do it at all."

"I asked him about his us, his family, and he just shrugged at me. He got serious, and he said that we were all taken care of. He waved off my arguments about us still needing him. He understood how I felt. I knew that he had to do what he was doing, because he had never been the sort to stand by idly."

"So I let him go. It wasn't easy for either of us, but I let him get up and go home, knowing that every day he was in danger of getting injured by those who didn't care of his tending to the wandless."


"I was a friend of his way from way back during his Hogwarts days, and Stiles, as long as I've known him, always been an idiot, and I mean that in the nicest way possible. Me and a few others tried talking him out of what he was doing more than once, and every single time, he would just plough on through us."

"At first it wasn't so bad, but then he started showing up at my house with cuts and bruises. He looked like he had been getting into fights, and even the next day you'd see him, and the cuts and bruises would still be there."

"He wore it like a badge of honour though. It wasn't so bad in the beginning, when he would show up to work with these injuries once every few weeks, but it started getting worse. Soon it was once a week, then once every few days."

"I knew that he wasn't going to my house every time to get patched up, so I reached out. It turns out that there was about five of us that he would turn up to about once a week, bleeding over our doormats. Every time he would show up, we'd beg him to stop."

"Every time I'd say that, he would just shake his head like a pained dog and said that he wouldn't. All the time we'd see that it was getting worse, but nothing short of taking his wand away and locking him up would stop him."

"What could we do? It got to the point that I'd stay up and be ready to help him when he got there. He was, and still is for that matter, stubborn. He had his mind set, and there wasn't any amount of arguing that could make him change his mind."

"Our friendship got a little strained, but even near the end, he would still show up at my house and I would still do everything in my ability to heal him up. I still thought that he was being stupid, but this was my own little way of helping the wandless too. I knew that it wasn't much, but I was much too scared to join him when he went out. I guess that's why you're interviewing me about him instead of the other way around though."


"This Stiles guy, he was the only one who'd go out there to help us wandless every day. I mean, you'd occasionally run across a witch or wizard who'd help, but for the most part, everyone'd just leave you alone, and that was that. It's not that they didn't feel bad for us, but their own lives were dangerous enough without them helping us."

"Things were bad out there, especially during the winter months. Most of us, though Muggle-born, had long sense grown used to the magical world, and I doubt that any of us living out there had anybody left in the Muggle world to help us. Without our wands, it was...well, it was like living like a Muggle again. It was a hard thing for most of us to try and make the transition away from magic. And that's not even saying anything about having to stay alive, begging for gold and eating from the one place that would dare to serve us."

"I understand why people didn't help us, that was easy. But then came along this guy, who'd make sure that we were clothed, fed, and then heal us up as best as he could. I never got that, you know? I could never understand why this guy would go out, and right under the Death Eater's noses, help us. And this was before some of the Death Eaters started waiting for him even."

"Every day, until the wars sudden end, he'd be there, looking more and more like a walking corpse then a human. And then for the next few days after the war ended, he was out there, making sure we found our families, making sure that we got back up on our feet."

"And then after that, he disappeared. He was gone before most of us had a chance to thank him for all he had done, for giving us the hope that things would get better out there. I thought I saw him a few times after that, but when I went to get a closer look, he'd always be gone."

"So this is my thank you to him, wherever he is, and whoever he is. Thank you for saving my life. Without you, my daughters and wife wouldn't have a father and husband."


During this year, when we remember all the heroes, both living and dead, the Daily Prophet would like to take a moment to remember those who either never got, or never sought credit for what they did. Though unknown, these heroes will not be forgotten.

*term commonly used at the time to refer to Muggle-borns that had their wands taken away by the Ministry.


A/N: Like I said, I think that it turned out ok, but it's far from the favourite story I've ever written. It took a lot of work to try and make the story feel natural, and even then I'm not sure that I did.

Thanks for reading, and my your travels be safe.