Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling

Part 3/Chapter 10

The following Monday, Bellamy was in Italy, working, although he planned on returning every evening, except on the rare occasions that he made himself too tired. Pat was working in the walled garden, a secluded place in which she took a considerable delight. Caradoc had helped with the heavy work. He may have been very old, but Caradoc had a wand. The cat, with her kittens, still lived there, in a cosy place beneath a garden seat, though she was well known in the kitchen. There was a stone tablet close, and Pat knew that Bellamy's second wife, Luna, was buried here. She wondered if Luna would mind if she was buried here too, when the time came. From what her husband had told her, she didn't think she'd mind.

The sound of gunshots startled her. Cautiously, she poked her head out the doorway. There was a gathering she could see, but she could pick out Kitty and Alison, so went over to investigate.

In a small yard were about twenty sheep; not the lambing ewes, but others that Archie had arranged to buy. There was a lesson in progress, with Caradoc the tutor. Kitty, Alison and Ursula were all practising defence spells, and one by one, sheep were being immobilised. In the next paddock, a target had been set up, and Clare, of all people, was teaching Victor how to use a rifle. Victor had no magical power, although he came from a wizarding family - a 'Squib,' as she was told. Pat thought 'Squib' sounded even more belittling than muggle.

Caradoc saw her come, and proceeded with the lesson. He thought the time had come when Pat had to know that Bellamy lived a very dangerous life when in the wizarding world, and Pat, too, could be in danger. She sat on a garden seat, that Caradoc had quite deliberately moved to a convenient spot for a spectator. It was not conjured, as only Bellamy's conjures could be relied on to last very long.

Pat was frowning thoughtfully. Her husband's employees apparently thought it worthwhile for cooks and secretaries to be able to defend themselves, and maybe even to defend their boss. And when they'd gone to Diagon Alley the previous week, again, some very tough looking men had turned up, and stayed close. Bellamy had taken it for granted, and only introduced her to Stan, and reminded her that she'd met Alexander at the Ministry Ball. There were his scars, too, that she'd become used to. But only the previous week she'd asked him why he always wore a watch on each wrist, and he'd shown her scars where he'd apparently been tied up once. He'd blushed bright red when she asked what had happened, and only muttered something about having made a colossal fool of himself, so she hadn't persisted. There was still a lot she didn't know about her husband.

After a while, Pat walked over to Clare, and asked if she, too, could learn to use a rifle. Caradoc, watching, smiled. She wasn't afraid to face facts then. He was beginning to think that Bellamy had made an excellent choice, certainly a very different woman from Julie, whom he knew he'd loved, but whom he'd never really admired himself. Caradoc suspected that Bellamy might never have become so lost, if only Julie had stayed with him.

By the end of the lesson, Pat knew how to load and fire her rifle, and Clare was suggesting they go back to their place, and she'd show her how to clean it. "The boss doesn't know, of course," Clare said. "He'd only get upset. But if there's ever another raid, we'll be more prepared." And as Pat worked methodically at the job she'd been set, she was told about the raid that had left her husband lying badly wounded, under the dying man who'd tried to protect him.

Caradoc was reading, close by. He was old now, looking to be around ninety, but with his unique history, he was chronologically, much older - the only person left in the world who was older than Bellamy. He looked up when the lesson finished, and said casually, "Why don't you show her Will's grave?" So Clare took Pat to the small cemetery, and pointed out the grave of Will, the big feeble-minded man who'd given his life to save his boss.

"There's a painting in the entry hall," commented Pat.

Clare nodded. "Yes, I did that. Harry was very fond of Will."

Pat was cautioned later, by Caradoc, now reading a newspaper in an easychair in the sunshine, that young Margaret knew nothing of firearms, and was not to be told. "An unusual girl." he said.

Pat nodded. She'd scarcely spoken to redheaded Margaret, of the sulky face. Margaret seemed bent on keeping right away from both herself and Bellamy. She was at school now.

Meantime, in Italy, Bellamy was becoming depressed and angry. Why did Italy have so many pumpkin-heads? And why was their auror department unable to work out who was responsible? Out of twelve, only two were alive, and he knew there were to be more in the afternoon. Dieter was keeping a wary eye on him. It seemed that Bellamy was perfectly healthy these days, but he suspected they'd nearly lost him before because of too many dead pumpkin-heads.

Out of the next contingent, Bellamy checked the ten monsters lined up, and again pronounced just two alive. Cindy, who was so fast, was in the workroom with him, as well as Alexander, and Dieter.

Bellamy had Cindy make the barrier for him, only modifying the door sized portion that needed his special abilities. And then he dropped his head, looked blindly at the floor, and started to concentrate. The witch was in a trance - not panicking, not dead. Bellamy had struck a rare few like this, and very much admired the control that it took to comprehend their situation, to overcome their terror, and to put themselves in a trance that would keep them alive years longer than normal. But now he was doing something else, and the witch was allowing it. Through her mind, he was feeling for the mind of her attacker. She had known him quite well. Bellamy was now feeling his mind, feeling his memories, feeling his experiences. The wizard was under his control, and answering his questions. That one had used the spell many times, and was now the head of the Italian Auror Department. Mussari was his name. His next goal was Minister for Magic. The current Minister was already marked as a target. Bellamy found Mussari guilty, exerted his will, and the head of the Italian Auror Department slumped forward onto his desk, dead.

The others in the room wondered what Bellamy was doing, as he was taking a lot longer than usual. He was sweating, too, and beginning to tremble. Graham was watching him anxiously.

Bellamy had allowed the witch imprisoned inside a monster, to watch, as he killed. And when he made the cure, she knew that she was already avenged, and didn't try to attack Bellamy. One last request to the witch, in her mind, that he would prefer that she not tell anybody what he'd done. Executions were illegal. Nuria Choria was in full agreement. Executions might be illegal, but she thought this one fully justified. And when Bellamy finally dropped the barrier, he told his aurors to leave her alone.

Nuria looked at him assessingly, then crossed to him, hugged him tight, and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispered.

Bellamy smiled, and nodded, but he was very weary, and sat in his chair against the wall, leaning back his head, and closing his eyes. Graham gave him one glance, and said to Dieter, "Half hour break." Dieter nodded, and went out, conferring with the Italian Coodinator.

Bellamy's shaking finally subsided. It was not an easy thing that he'd just done. "How many more?" he asked Dieter, now back in the room.

"The other pumpkin-head," said Dieter, "And a half dozen ordinary ones, but we can put them off if you like."

Bellamy said, "No, I'll do them, but you might send a message to Pat for me, that I won't be home tonight." Dieter nodded.

The work was finished, and Bellamy even allowed Graham to do his checks. It only confirmed what both Bellamy and Graham already knew, that he was very tired.

At dinner that night, the talk was about schooling. "My son, Adrian, is now headmaster at Zefron," Bellamy mentioned casually.

The Italian Coodinator/translator, Gino, was present, flattered to have been issued with the rare invitation by Dieter, at Bellamy's prompting. Dieter was wondering what on earth Bellamy was up to, though he had no idea, of course, that the sudden death of an Italian Head of Department had any relation to Bellamy's work that day. Probably he wouldn't have believed it, if told. It was an impossible feat.

The talk wound round and round the subject of education, Graham getting a very heavy frown from Bellamy when he tried to talk about something else. And now Graham knew that Bellamy was up to something as well. The invitation to visit Rome's school of Witchcraft and Wizardry was apparently the idea of Gino, accepted by the great wizard with a flattering pleasure.

"Early Friday afternoon, then, when we've finished work?" asked Bellamy. "I've heard of a couple of your Professors - supposed to be very good - Professor Radwick, I think it is, Potions, and Professor Dado, Defence. I'd be very pleased to meet them."

Gino was almost stuttering in his pleasure. "It'll be an honour. They'll be thrilled." As he thought more about it, his smile was even more ecstatic. "The Minister, he'll be there, of course. Such an honour!"

Bellamy had got what he wanted, but was beginning to think it was going to be a considerable ordeal.

Dieter walked with Bellamy when he started heading back to his room. He was looking rather unapproachable, striding quickly along the corridor. He didn't get lost these days. Dieter decided not to be put off. "Bellamy, what exactly are you up to?"

Bellamy hesitated, and then invited him into his room. "Coffee?" he asked.

Dieter said, "Black, no sugar." It looked like Bellamy might actually be intending to tell him what was behind this unusual move. He never wanted to be flattered, hated meeting dignitaries, and yet he'd perfectly deliberately contrived this visit to a school.

Bellamy sipped his own coffee. "Do you have any idea how many Italians have died these past twenty years, of the pumpkin-head curse?"

Dieter shrugged. "Besides the ones you've seen, there's probably dozens more when you were gone."

Bellamy nodded. "Someone's teaching the curse. I'm hoping to find who it is, and stop them."

Dieter looked frowningly at him. "How?" he demanded. "Challenge him to a duel? No one in their right minds would take you up!"

"Probably a little more subtle than that," smiled Bellamy, and then an apparent irrelevance. "Who were you planning to send with me?"

"Who do you want?" asked Dieter.

"You, Bruce, and Cindy with me," said Bellamy decisively. "What I want is a bit of a disagreement. The matter of pumpkin-heads needs to come up, I'll condemn the spell, but what I want is for you or Bruce, or even both, to admire the wizard who can do it. It's a difficult spell. Not many can do it. It must be a very powerful wizard, etcetera, and maybe even a bare hint that you wished you had the ability yourself."

"And Cindy?"

"Cindy should flatter the professors, especially Professor Dado, who teaches Defence. I think he's probably the one."

Dieter understood, "You want to get them thinking about it, so you know for sure." But he frowned. "And then what? You have to keep within the law, you know!"

Bellamy raised an eyebrow, "But of course," and he got to his feet, and stretched in an obvious hint that he was tired and it was time for Dieter to leave.

Dieter still frowned. "You have to keep within the law!" He regarded Bellamy suspiciously for a moment longer before leaving, but Bellamy took no notice. Stan and a young, redheaded auror, called Scott, took guard outside the door.

Bellamy hardly ever had nightmares any more. He had begun to think he'd finally outgrown them. But he had never outgrown his terror of confinement and helplessness, and there could be no more awful imprisonment than that of being imprisoned within one's own head, unable to see, hear, taste or even feel. Stan wrenched open the door of Bellamy's bedroom when they heard his terrified scream. But it was only to see him crouched beside his bed where he'd fallen, trembling, and with tears on his face, but shaking his head, trying to understand that it was just a dream.

Scott just stared, not quite knowing what to do, but Stan went straight to his side, helping him to a chair. Bellamy was only wearing sleeping shorts, and they could see clearly how he shuddered convulsively as he sat, head bowed in front of them. It was a while before he recovered enough to apologise, and mutter something about being an awful fool, and just a nightmare.

He still felt shattered, and Scott, at a very quiet word from Stan, slipped away to rouse Graham. Bellamy had always wanted to walk away the agitation and tension of a nightmare, but this time, he only leaned back in his chair, said to Stan that it was all right, to leave him alone, and closed his eyes. He doubted if he could walk when he shook so much. Stan conjured a blanket, warmed it with his magic, and tucked it around him. Bellamy looked up in surprise. "I'll be better in a minute," he said, "There's no need to fuss."

His surprise changed to irritation when Graham brought him a steaming potion, and told him he should drink it, and then Dieter arrived as well, called by Scott. He'd automatically taken the potion in a shaking hand, but now said, annoyed, "Look, I'm sorry I screamed, but it was only a nightmare, and I'm just going for a walk for a bit and then I'll be fine," and he put the potion down on the table, spilling some, and rose to his feet.

Dieter calmly ordered, "Stan, Scott, outside the door. Bellamy, drink the potion." Bellamy ignored him, and started dressing, having some difficulty as he still shook. Dieter frowned, and said again, "Bellamy, drink the potion."

Graham was concerned. Dieter should not be trying to order the great wizard, whether or not he knew best. "It's just a calming potion, Bellamy," he said, anxiously, trying to avoid a confrontation.

Bellamy glanced at Graham, and then, rather mockingly, at Dieter, before drinking the potion, and saying with a touch of sarcasm, "Now, can I go for a walk?"

Dieter gave a silent sigh of relief, but only said, "I'll walk with you." Bellamy nodded, finding that the trembling had finally subsided enough that he could do up buttons.

Dieter and Bellamy walked a long time in the quiet, dark streets of Rome, Stan and Scott following a way behind as additional protection.

"The potion did you good, didn't it?" Dieter finally said.

Bellamy acknowledged, "It helped a little bit."

Dieter smiled, "I think Graham was terrified you'd turn me into a toad!"

Bellamy grinned. "Were you?"

"I've had enough to do with you now that I'm not afraid you'll lose self-control."

Bellamy raised an eyebrow, "You seemed to think I might act outside the law a little earlier."

"A different thing," said Dieter. "I think you might go outside the law if you chose, but only in a very self-controlled way!"

Bellamy turned to him, laughing, and after a moment, Dieter, too, started laughing.

The streets were beginning to look familiar to Bellamy. He slowed down as he came to a brightly it building. "I nearly starved here a few years ago," he mentioned to Dieter. "I thought I was being hunted so I didn't show myself to buy food, and then I was too obviously weak to be given a job, so I ran out of money." He pointed. "Father Tarzia in there, saved my life."

Dieter was very surprised that he'd been the recipient of this confidence. He felt rather honoured, too. Bellamy had never spoken about those lost years, and seldom about himself at all. "You were being hunted," he said. "Laurie and Johns wanted you found at all costs. There were enemies, too, as well as the muggle police."

"Medj police," corrected Bellamy absent-mindedly. "So it wasn't in my imagination?"

"The hunt was centred in France, but no, it wasn't in your imagination."

"What triggered it?" asked Bellamy with mild curiosity.

Dieter hesitated, and Bellamy glanced over at him. Dieter said vaguely, "It was hospital records, as you'd had some sort of an accident."

There was a silence. They walked on. "Are we going to walk all night?" Dieter asked finally.

"We'll head back now, if you like."

Dieter asked curiously, "How much do you remember of those years?"

Bellamy glanced at him again. "Some years are a total blur, sometimes I remember quite clearly."

Dieter wanted to know if he remembered the whipping, and what had led to it, but he didn't quite ask. Bellamy heard the loud thought, but chose not to acknowledge it. He hadn't known the Ministry knew he'd been whipped, and still his memory only included handing a whip back to a short and very angry man, with the knowledge that he'd done wrong.

Just before they arrived back, Bellamy suddenly remembered, and asked, "By the way, what happened to Brian Draffen?"

"I heard he went to New Zealand, and is now married."

Bellamy smiled. "New Zealand! He might have found what he wanted in New Zealand." He knew there had once been some witches there who had telepathic talents. And as he'd told Brian, sex with a Telepath was dynamite!

Scott and Stan, walking behind and out of earshot, were very relieved when, approaching from an unexpected direction, they were at the hotel.

Dieter was absent at breakfast, and Stan was limping. Scott seemed all right, but was yawning. They hoped that Bellamy wouldn't stay again overnight. It was altogether too wearing. The next few days were routine, except that Graham and Cindy were primed on their roles for Friday.

Friday afternoon, Bellamy found that the whole school, pupils and teachers were assembled to give a rousing cheer, as he entered the school. The Minister for Magic shook his hand, as if he'd never let go, and a dozen more of Italy's most influential were also there to make much of the great wizard. He was beginning to think he might not achieve his goal, but Dieter and Jed combined to split the party, and Bellamy, Bruce and Cindy were left to meet the professors. It was easy enough to raise the subject of pumpkin-heads, and Bellamy fell silent, as Bruce and Cindy played their roles. Vociferous in his adamant opposition to the use or teaching of the curse, was Professor Dado. At the same time, his mind was full of conceit that he'd been the indirect cause of numerous victims.

For once, Bellamy was prying. There was another, too, who hadn't used it, but liked to think that he could do it, and he, too, had passed on his knowledge. And right in front of a dozen wizards and witches, Bellamy worked his magic. When he spoke with power, people quieted. All he did was to say calmly that the pumpkin-head curse should never be used, should never be taught, and that those who knew it, should forget how to do it. But there was a lacing of magic with his words, and the next time that Professor Dado went to teach it to an ambitious youngster, he found that he could no longer remember how to do it.

"Did you do what you went to do?" Dieter asked him as they left the school.

"I did, but what a price!" said Bellamy. "My hand's wrung to death, and why seventeen women and a dozen men had to kiss my cheek, I really don't know!"

"What did you do?"

Bellamy shrugged, "I just told them it shouldn't be taught, that's all."

"With magic?"

"Now that would be outside the law, and anyway, I was never once alone with anyone for long enough to raise a wand."

Dieter grunted. It was perfectly well known among the aurors that Bellamy did not require a wand, although he usually pretended to.

***chapter end***