Disclaimer: J. K .Rowling owns Harry Potter and his world.

Chapter 8:

Bellamy didn't change his mind about his new name, but there were no more deaths that hit him so hard for many months. There were a few in-laws, but he did as Chrissy suggested. He would only go to the funerals of immediate family, not even those of in-laws. And that helped, as no members of his immediate family seemed to be dying yet. There were weddings and new babies, and each wedding, and each new baby was like a bulwark against the grief of too many losses. And there was a triumph, as Bellamy accompanied his friend, Ian Maguire, to the Olympics, and they watched as Simon won bronze, and Connor won gold for Britain in the showjumping. Both of them were on horses that Harry had bred. The brown mare that Connor rode, had 'unknown' marked on her pedigree as her grandfather, but the extra strength and endurance apparently added by that mysterious stallion made her the best of all Harry's horses.

There were girlfriends of course, as Bellamy couldn't live for more than a very few days without sex, or so he thought. And he'd always been very good at luring women into bed with him. He was normally very discreet in his liaisons, never going with witches, and never going with inexperienced women who might be hurt by a temporary lover. He didn't contemplate marrying again. Even if Julie would not be hurt, and he was sure that she would be, he thought that it would only happen again, that no woman should marry a freak that didn't get old.

The supply of new babies seemed to dry up for a time in the winter of the year that he was a hundred and eleven. A very bad time was beginning for Bellamy. First it was his stepson, Adam Bourne, who died, and not even two weeks later, Adam's son, Trevor Bourne, although Trevor was only middle-aged. Then there was James, his son, and Gemme, his cousin's daughter, whom he always regarded as a niece. Gemme's husband was already dead. There was a brief lull in family deaths, but there was a long list of other deaths, friends whom he'd known, Nick Bagshott, Barbara Bancroft, who'd been a Minister for Magic, Sarah Creevey, though she was only seventy, both Therese Wilson and Jodie Bagshott, who'd been Ministry healers who'd looked after him, and whom he'd always thought, fussed too much. Then suddenly, still on the job, Catherine. He had to go to the funeral of Catherine. And Ben Weasley, who'd been his own healer until he became too old. He had to go to Ben's funeral too. And anyway, Ben was his nephew. There were aurors whom he'd known, and although he stayed away from their funerals, he always wrote a letter to the relatives.

He became increasingly morose. He scarcely seemed to talk these days, although he broke spells with the same casual efficiency as ever. He didn't get drunk, and he didn't do much that was very dangerous, but he started getting into more and more fistfights, and Graham became accustomed to treating his cuts and bruises.

There was another brief lull. Harry turned a hundred and twelve, going away for his birthday, as he mostly did these days. A month after his birthday, Chris Parker died, his daughter Vicky's, husband, and then, within weeks of each other, Margaret and Vicky. All the children of his first marriage were dead now, and somehow it made his first wife Ginny, who had died long ago, seem even further away.

Bellamy thought that maybe he could relax a little now. Of his other children, Beth looked like she would live a long life, and Adrian was only twenty-nine.

Three months went by. A great, great grandchild was presented for his inspection. The tiny girl looked like she would have red hair. A lot of Harry's descendants were redheads. Ginny had been a redhead.

Suddenly, a grandson was dead, Nicholas Abercrombie, who'd lived with him for a while after he'd been attacked by the Ministry. Nicholas wasn't even sixty. Bellamy wore a face of cool composure as he organised time off from his work to attend the funeral of his first grandson. Graham found that he'd become more thin, and the most important measure of health, the LV measure, showed another decline. Bellamy was never interested in discussing his own health, and Graham only noted the results, and wondered if it was a sign of imminent ageing. He looked no different, except a bit sad sometimes.

The following Monday, Bellamy walked the corridor of the Ministry Building to the room near the Transport Bay where the team always assembled. Manfred Cahill called out. Manfred was an arrogant, long nosed auror who'd been assigned for just one trip to Harry Potter years before. It had happened to be a particularly traumatic time, and Manfred had been his bitter enemy since the Friday evening when Harry broke his jaw at a party. Manfred still knew how to hurt, and his words cut deep, "Hey, Monster! How does it feel to watch your children die of old age?"

Bellamy wheeled. He mostly ignored the occasional taunts of Manfred, but now he put down his suitcase, and walked toward Manfred as if he was closing in on prey. Manfred was a brave man, and his stance altered as he prepared to fight. Abruptly, there were barriers closing off the corridor each side of them. Bellamy wanted no interference.

Manfred approved, but asserted, "It's not a fair fight, Freak."

"All right," said Bellamy, "I won't use my left hand." They were warily circling each other now.

"Your right hand," said Manfred, "Don't use your right hand."

"Done!"

Manfred, with the striking speed of a cobra, attacked. Bellamy swayed back, and the blows landed on thin air. Manfred was still balanced, instantly prepared to attack or defend. Bellamy's right hand was firmly in his pocket. His left hand was lightly clenched, but he was not attacking yet.

Manfred said, "I hear even your grandchildren have started dying off, Freak!"

Bellamy warned, "Be careful, you really don't want me to lose my temper!"

Manfred heeded the warning, and his insults toned down to those that Bellamy could ignore. "Freak, Monster, Little Man!"

Bellamy grinned, but it was a fierce grin. "I'm surprised you call me little. What are you? Maybe an inch taller?" And with a speed greater than that of his opponent, he inflicted several quick blows with his left fist, but taking some bruises in return. It was still only the opening manoeuvres. With Bellamy's handicapping, they were very evenly matched. The barriers were almost transparent, and they had an audience. They were close to soundproof, though, and it was unlikely that Manfred heard the threat of instant dismissal if he hurt Harry. Franz still found it hard to think of him as Bellamy.

A blow that hit just below his ribs had Manfred bending down, gasping for breath. Bellamy's right hand twitched in his pocket, itching to hit the now vulnerable jaw, but he had to use his left hand instead, and was an instant too slow, leaving himself open to a blow on the face that shattered his glasses. He swiftly stepped back, out of reach, and the glasses vanished.

For another twenty minutes, the two men battled, urged on by barracking aurors, until Franz turned on them with fury, and sent them about their business. The fighters were both bleeding from cuts about their faces, and one of Bellamy's eyes was half-closed. Everything was blurred without his glasses in any case, but his fighting instincts ensured a sharpening of the senses that almost overcame the disadvantage.

A blow to the head connected, and Bellamy was knocked sprawling, but rolled and was up again before Manfred could take advantage. Again they were circling, each alert, each very fast, ready and wanting to hit. "I'm sorry I called you Dementor Food that time," said Manfred.

Bellamy straightened, "What?"

Manfred knocked him out with a clean blow to the jaw.

Manfred staggered to the wall, his head spinning, and now he was no longer fighting, he, too, sagged to the floor. But he smiled with satisfaction. His broken jaw may have been almost straightaway healed that time, but it was only now that it was forgiven.

Franz banged at the barrier in frustration. Only Harry could undo his own spells. He wondered if he might have put a time limit on it, as he did sometimes. Graham, beside him, spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. "We'll have to go around, through the walls." Franz nodded, and went through an office door, along a little, and used his wand to make a doorway back into the corridor. He should have thought of it before, but he'd become just as immersed in the fight as his aurors.

Bellamy stirred and sat up. He regarded the blurry figure opposite him. "You beat me!" he said in a tone of surprise.

Manfred grunted, "Good fight." He felt a bit dizzy.

Bellamy reached up and felt the blood from a split lip. He grinned, a bit lopsided. "I hope Graham can fix me up a bit, the Germans disapprove terribly of duelling with fists!" He stood and extended a hand to Manfred, who took it and rose to his feet, although leaning against the wall.

Franz watched from the doorway he'd made. Maybe the ill feeling between the two was over. Manfred would not be fired. He was one of the best aurors he had. But he was the boss, and now said, "You should be ashamed of yourselves, the pair of you! Brawling in the corridors!"

Bellamy turned a grin to him. "Sorry, Franz."

Manfred, too, apologised. Franz snapped at Manfred to get himself tidied up. Manfred walked to the barrier, then turned to Bellamy. Bellamy reached for his wand, but removed his hand, empty.

"Bellamy?" said Franz.

"I need to borrow a wand," explained Bellamy. "I seem to have forgotten mine."

Franz shook his head in disbelief, and handed over his wand, which Bellamy used to vanish the barriers. He had a theory that if he always appeared to use a wand, people might forget that he didn't really need one. Manfred cast a glance back at him. He winked. He thought he hadn't enjoyed anything as much in years.

Friday, Bellamy came back from Germany, to learn that his grand-daughter, Ginny Davenport, had died suddenly of a heart attack. He remembered so clearly the day when the tiny baby, with wisps of reddish hair, had been placed on his knee for the first time. He didn't go to the funeral. He fled. Monday, Naomi had to send a message to the Ministry, and confess that they didn't know where he was.