Chapter 11_54
AN: Couldn't think of a title, so here another nameless chapter. Hope you enjoy it all the same.
It wasn't yet six o'clock in the morning when Giles left for the library, while Helen apparated near her house in order to change her clothes and feed her newly acquired cat Catullus. When she unlocked her front door, she paused for a moment, listening for any signs of a movement, or a howler. She was sure that sooner or later the Ministry would announce themselves to reprimand her for the broad daylight apparition at a place full of muggles. Somewhere deep down, though, she was still hoping that perhaps their short appearance at the balcony of the Buckingham Palace went unnoticed. After all, they hadn't stayed longer than few seconds.
The absolute silence of her house strengthened her hope, and when – still running on her tiptoes first – she quickly peeped into each room and didn't find any traces of howlers or of Kingsley or anyone else, relieved she hurried upstairs to have a shower and put on fresh clothes.
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Giles meanwhile arrived at the library and continued his reading of the Arameic text about the Daih-rah demons. There was something in the back of his mind, though. Like an irritation that was yet too small to place its source, yet not small enough to just go away. As the minutes were passing he noticed his concentration getting interrupted more and more often by his mental attempts to replay the past few hours with Helen and to try and think back at when this feeling had first emerged. It must have been something Helen had said at breakfast, he thought and got up from his desk. He didn't like the sound of that Márkos-chap she had been talking about. He walked to the back of the library to pick another volume in Arameic he wanted to consult after he got stuck at trying to translate an unfamiliar expression. He found the book and was still staring unfocused on a page in it, when a semi-loud pop startled him. When he turned around, he found Helen standing behind him, slightly out of breath.
"Phew, thank Merlin you haven't reorganized much," she said, "it was too late when it occurred to me I might end up in one of the shelves." She adjusted her black skirt a little that had got a bit creased in the swirl of the apparition.
Giles couldn't look at her slim long legs without swallowing dry and remembering last night. Once more he felt the excited joy of having her back.
She straightened and looked up at last, saying: "So, where do you want me?"
When she saw the look in his eyes, she immediately blushed, only now aware of the other meaning of her question. Suddenly she had the feeling that the answer would have little to do with Latin.
And she was right, for Giles, without turning around, his hand merely fumbled in the shelf to put away the book he was holding, smiled, came closer and without a word just pulled her closer and kissed her.
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"Wow, never done that before," Helen said exhausted an hour later as they were lying between the shelves on the library floor. A few books lay scattered around them, looking like a mute reproach after they had been the victims of Helen's futile attempts to find some halt when Giles had pinned her against a shelf some time earlier.
"Which part?" Giles whispered in her ear in such a tender, gentle voice it almost made her wonder if he was the same person as the fierce, passionate, hungry and slightly rough man that had just made her come several times in different positions.
She blushed and turned her head to him. "I don't know what you think of me but I happened to be a very... mousy... person."
"Did you now?" He asked, raising his brows.
A wave of muffled voices from the school hallway reached them, telling them that it was getting late and the students were arriving for the first period.
"We should probably get up," she said, although she entirely lacked the energy or conviction to do it.
"Yes," Giles agreed, just as reluctantly. But he feared that Willow might come to check on him before her class.
So, willy-nilly they got up and dressed, and – indeed, while Giles was already in his office, Helen was still just descending the small stairs to join him, adjusting her clothes and buttoning her blouse when the cheerful happy voice greeted her.
"Well! Good morning! Look who's here!" Willow was beaming at her and paused in her way to the main table, in a manner as if she was expecting something or someone to thank her or congratulate her on her accomplishment as the genius matchmaker.
Helen managed to suppress what would have been a complacent grin, just as another loud pop made her wince, and within a second the imposing figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt materialized itself in the space between her and Willow. The one swallowed nervously, the other gasped amazed.
"Helen," he said merely, but the repressed anger was clearly audible in his voice.
"Kingsley," she replied, attempting a charming smile.
"I assume you know why I'm here," he said grimly.
She raised her brows innocently. "You turned on the wrong heel on your way home?" She asked full of hope.
There were flashes in Kingsley's eyes as he made one menacing step towards her.
"What is going on?" Suddenly Giles appeared in the doorway of his office after he had heard strange voices.
Kingsley turned at him, opened his mouth to say something, then narrowed his eyes and gave him a scrutinizing look, before turning back at Helen. "I-," he started, but seemed to be too outraged to form a sentence, so he merely shook his head. "I don't even know," he tried again in a slow low voice, "where... to start." He walked over to Helen, pulled something out of the inner pocket of his cloak and handed it to her.
Giles and Willow watched confused as Helen stared at what looked like a newspaper. They saw her eyes widen and a weak "oh" was all she said.
"Am I right in the assumption, sir," Kingsley turned back at Giles, "that you are not a wizard yourself?"
"N-no, no, I-uh... am not," he said, not having the slightest idea about this was all about.
After a moment of awkward silence during which Helen wasn't able to look away from the black and white moving photograph of her and Giles on the Buckingham palace balcony that was adorning the latest issue of the Evening Prophet, Kingsley finally snatched the paper away from her and said impatiently: "Would you care to introduce us perhaps?"
"Ehm, yes, of course, sorry," she said and descended the stairs to join Giles. "This is Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic; Kingsley, this is Rupert Giles...," she paused for a moment, wondering what attribute to add to Giles' name. The Librarian? The Watcher? The Best Lover on the Face of this Earth? She blushed again.
But Kingsley cut her short when he offered Giles a handshake: "Nice to meet you - dressed, sir."
Giles took the man's hand with a frown, his lips moving to form a question, but Kingsley merely gave him the newspaper before turning back to Helen.
"Do you have something to say?" He asked her expectantly.
"Oh dear," Giles said quietly, yet with utter horror in his voice.
"What is it?" It was the first time that Willow had spoken a word. She walked over to Giles to see what the whole outrage was all about. "What does it say?" She eyed the paper curiously and Giles clumsily hid it behind his back, his face burning up with embarrassment.
"N-nothing. Certainly nothing you need to see," he said firmly and Willow's face turned into a pout.
"How... did it get there?" Helen finally spoke. "Do you have like... magic cameras now all around London ready to catch every apparition?!"
Kingsley glared at her. "Not that that is the point here, but as you'll remember Hogwarts's hosting the Triwizard tournament this year and the exchange students from the Black Forest Academy wanted to see London, so that the schoolboard had decided to organize a trip... They thought it might also be a good opportunity to train some Hogwarts students who aren't accustomed to move among muggles and demonstrate how to not attract attention among them...," Kingsley paused, realizing he was getting off topic. "Seems that they aren't the only ones in need of that lesson. You literally couldn't have picked a worse time for that... apparition."
"Black Forest Academy?" Helen asked excited, for it was the school she had been educated at for seven years. "They're participating in the tournament this year?"
"Yes, which you would have known," he said pointedly, "if you had been paying attention to anyone else but yourself at the beginning of the schoolyear. I was at Hogwarts myself to talk about it. The guest students arrived about a week after you had left your teaching post... And they had all seen you this morning. And a few of your own former students have even recognized you, I might add."
Helen's cheeks turned visibly red at the notion.
"Now we were able to contain the issue on the muggle side by convincing the palace to let it go and explain the... apparition... as a prank by someone who had projected the picture of you two on the front façade."
"Muggles?" Helen asked alarmed. "They-they saw?"
"Everybody saw, Helen," Kingsley said impatiently. "We need to talk. Is there somewhere private?"
"Y-you can use my office if you like," Giles offered and gave Helen a look with a question in it, whether she really wanted him to leave her and Kingsley alone. She shook her head bravely to tell him it was fine, and led the Minister into Giles' office, but left the door open.
What followed, was a five-minutes monologue of Kingsley's on how important it was for wizards to preserve their secret and remain undetected among muggles, how he would have expected her to behave more maturely and not show off her special skills in such a childish and irresponsible way, how he really should bring her to the Ministry and submit her to a court hearing, and how he really didn't feel like doing it. "Too much paper work."
She dared to smile.
"The Ministry decided to give you a pardon and leave it merely at the fee of three hundred galleons you'd pay," he said in a benevolent tone, and when he saw her eyes widen and her mouth open in protest, he snapped: "which will barely cover the costs that it took to efface the consequences of your mishap!"
"Fine," she murmured, "I'll write you a check."
"Very good. That's that then."
Helen raised her brows.
He looked at her and smiled widely. "And now let me tell you why I actually came all the way here."
She stared at him incredulously.
Kingsley tilted his head: "Oh, come on, Helen, you knew I could have sent a howler to scold you for that indiscretion. I didn't need to apparate here on account of that. But, seeing you sweat – I just couldn't resist it," he grinned. "Well, to be honest I could have sent someone else because of the other issue as well, I just wasn't sure whether you'd want to involve anyone else."
"What issue?" She asked, and momentarily forgot to be mad at him for "letting her sweat".
"There was an incident at Azkaban the other day. Or perhaps I better start at the beginning: Before Christmas we had received via our office that deals with the Watchers Council a confidential request by Quentin Travers, who wished to visit his cousin – did you know they were related? – Secundus and him? Well, he asked to see him under the very lame pretext of having to talk over some family business and some issues about an inheritance after a deceased "uncle"." Helen looked very puzzled, so he went on: "So, I decided to go against the ban we had put on Travers, and allowed the visit. Two days ago, Mr. Travers was escorted to Azkaban. We left them meet alone, but were of course intercepting their entire conversation. You probably won't be surprised when I tell you that what they really talked about had nothing to do with any inheritance. It concerned those books from the Council Library that you and the Aurors had collected on the Death Eathers' estates. Which, by the way," he said raising his brows into a strict scowl, "you should finally make up your mind about."
"What did they say?" Helen ignored the last remark, eager to find out what exactly had passed between the two cousins.
"It wasn't much. Mr. Travers... I mean the muggle one-"
"He's a squib, Kingsley," Helen corrected him somewhat impatient.
"Is he?" Kingsley looked surprised. "How-?"
"Never mind. Just tell me what had been said," she urged him.
"Alright. Well, the-eh... Quentin Travers seemed very anxious, nervous even, and it became pretty obvious that the only thing he had come to ask was the whereabouts of those books."
"And? Does he know?" She asked quickly.
"Secundus told him about your talk with him last year. From it he had assumed, alas, correctly, that they are all at the Ministry. Which, again, I would like to stress at this point. They don't belong there. We should either return them to the Council-"
"No!" Helen protested vehemently.
"Or," Kingsley continued in a loud voice, "you take them then. Do whatever you feel like with them. It's over hundred volumes, Helen. Rebeca's office would is small as it is, even without them. And I don't like all the dark magicks volumes lying around at the Ministry, especially since they're not ours."
"True, but the Council had given them away. Or, Quentin Travers had. And said they burnt. So technically they don't even exist," Helen objected.
"And yet for non-existing books they are taking a lot of space," Kingsley said sarcastically. "I'll have someone bring them to you later this week. Until you decide what you wanna do, stuff your own place with them."
"Alright," she conceded. "What else did they talk about?"
"Nothing much. Quentin was visibly unhappy about the state of things, saying something along the line if anyone were to find out... Secundus remained his usual unimpressed self. He clearly despises his cousin, not really surprised I must say. But no, nothing else of importance. The much more interesting thing happened only after Quentin Travers left and Secundus was being escorted back to his cell." Kingsley made a dramatic pause.
"Well?" Helen asked impatiently.
"It was most peculiar. And I must say I myself can't really see what it could have meant... You see as the guards with Secundus were passing Lestrange's cell, Rodolphus suddenly threw himself against its heavy door and began yelling something about betrayal and accusing Travers of being a traitor, of going behind Voldemort's back, and that he should have known. At first I thought it was just his usual ramblings, you know how he prides himself in his loyalty towards Voldemort and tends to exaggerate his own power, guards have often heard him scream around that if he had been there during the battle, it would all have gone a whole different way." Kingsley said, rolling his eyes, for he found Rodolphus not half as intimidating as the wizard would have wished. "But the guards reported me that Secundus at that moment looked really... scared, yes, they actually used the word scared... and he was supposed to stutter and mumble some incoherent words, from which they merely caught him saying just a precaution. After that Rodolphus screamed some more threats on how he was going to kill everyone once he gets out." He paused, looking at Helen, expecting her to say something.
She was thinking for a moment. "So what do you think it was about?"
"I really don't know. Normally I wouldn't even pay any attention to such an incident. But I asked the guards whether anything had happened before or earlier that day when Secundus was being brought to meet his cousin. Then he had passed Rodolphus' cell as well, and Rodolphus had greeted him like a former brother-in-arms, shouting some promises that they'll both get out one day and finish what their master had started... That's why the later, completely different outburst seemed so... triggered by something... You know we had to leave the cells next to Rodolphus empty because he kept harassing other inmates by his legilimency," Kingsley looked at her meaningfully.
"You think he might have read Secundus' thoughts after the talk with Quentin? You think he was referring to the whole thing with those books?"
"I know it's a huge leap in terms of interpretation, but... really I couldn't think of anything else," he said, then took out his pocket watch. "Merlin, I need to get home. Portia will be wondering what happened to me."
He moved towards the door, then turned around at Helen. "I'll leave you with it, I'd appreciate if, should you find out anything of relevance, you would let me know."
Helen nodded, following him out and into the library.
"Oh, and don't forget those 300 Galleons, best send it directly to the Muggle Liaisons."
In the library he offered Giles a parting handshake. Giles handed him the copy of the Evening Prophet back, but Kingsley shook his head. "You can keep it, frame it, as a reminder," he said, then smiled warmly. "But please, sir, next time she wants to impress you, just... let her light a candle or something."
Giles managed to raise a corner of his mouth into a smile, while Kingsley gave them a last bow and finally disapparated.
"Ok. Can someone please tell me what is going on?" Willow asked as she felt both excited to just have met the Minister of Magic, and excluded for having no idea why.
Helen opened her mouth to say something, when they got interrupted again. She scowled as she saw Principal Snyder walking through the swing door and towards them with his trademark gleeful smirk. "Some things you can just rely on," he said addressing Helen. "Somehow I knew this would be where I'd find you, instead of your office or the faculty room."
"I could have been perfectly well at home," she said not overly friendly, "I have the first period free you know."
"Not anymore you don't," Snyder replied calmly. "Mrs. Jamisson had to go on her maternity leave early. Your first Latin class starts in...," he looked at his watch, "five minutes. I suggest you be on time." He gave her a sinister last look, turned around and walked out, content with himself that he managed to spoil someone's day so early in the morning.
"Ewh," Helen made an odd sound and her shoulders sank in. "This is a horrible, horrible morning!" She exclaimed, missing Giles' indignant look, and began to panic. "What am I going to do? I haven't prepared anything yet for my Latin classes! Nothing, nihilum! I don't even have the books with me! I thought Miss Jamisson was leaving at the end of the month!"
Her face was screwed in terror, when Willow came to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Calm down. It's gonna be fine. I'm in the class-"
"You are?" Helen asked with a flicker of hope in her voice. "Would you perhaps... like to take over today?"
Willow looked at her indulgently. "No, you can totally do it. It's your first lesson, we're only ten people, mostly nerds in there, it's gonna be very cozy. You'll like them. Maybe we can start with talking about what we could be reading in the next weeks, Miss Jamisson always let us pick a few books on our own," she was chatting very fast now and overexcited," you just have to make sure that everyone's happy and gets a say in it. We have a few Middle Age geeks and... oh, oh, be prepared, Jimmy Meyer will suggest reading Catullus 16, he tries that every year," she rolled her eyes and shook her head in disapproval, then grabbed her bag from the table, "so beware... Ok. Let's go." She said happily and gently pulled on Helen's sleeve to get her going, when the bell announced the start of the first period.
"A-alright, go ahead, just give me a minute, I-I'll be right there," Helen said and Willow left.
"I must at least have some book in my hand when I walk in there," she looked around herself desperately, then grabbed the 18th century Latin volume dealing with the Daih-rah demons that Willow had been working on.
Before Giles could stop her or object, she turned to him and pressed a kiss on his lips, then hurried away, shouting "Wish me luck" on her way out.
"Uh-good luck!" He said, putting his hands in his pockets, and smiled to himself as he watched her run off. Despite all the chaos everything seemed so... in order again.
Left on his own, Giles sighed, knowing the research was now up to him, for the others would not be able to join him until after their classes in the afternoon. He managed to translate another page of the Arameic text on the Daih-rah demons, yet it didn't seem to contain any essential information nor explain the mysterious ritual of sacrificing one of their own. After lunch he found his concentration strained once more and the strange vexing feeling from the morning returned. It felt now more like something he was supposed to do. Again he tried to recall what he and Helen had talked about, what she had said, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was that was bugging him. Finally, he got up and threw the book on his desk, irritated. At that moment his eyes fell on the small calendar that stood in one corner on his desk.
Now he remembered. It wasn't anything Helen had said. It was his own words that came back to him.
Forgiveness isn't done because people deserve it, it is done because they need it.
Without further thought he picked the phone and dialed.
"Hello?" A calm, friendly voice said at the end of the line.
Giles paused for a second before saying: "Hello, father. Happy Birthday."
AN: Thanks for reading, please, leave a comment.
