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

Part 3/Chapter 16

The trip to France had already been planned as the last for a time, so there was no hindrance to Bellamy attending the funeral. The weather turned bitter, and Pat was tired and chose not to attend. But Bellamy watched the sombre procession, the coffin borne by six caped aurors, and more ranked side by side along the route. A full auror's funeral was very impressive, and maybe Alexander would have been proud, but his wife who followed the coffin, and the big youth beside her, had still lost a husband and a father.

Even now, surrounded by aurors, there was one especially rostered to be by the side of Bellamy, for his protection.

The formalities finished, and while others relaxed and the atmosphere lightened, Bellamy stared into the distance, and looked bleak. Alexander had died because he had failed. Julia had to speak to him twice before he acknowledged her. Julia would like to see him in her office, eleven in the morning. Bellamy nodded mechanically, "Eleven."

There were some smiles when the great wizard appeared in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic the following day. He was the great wizard, and wore old jeans and a very ordinary shirt. He had a jacket, so he might have had his wand, though they knew that sometimes it was forgotten. No other witch or wizard ever forgot their wand.

Dieter was waiting for him, but left him at Julia's office. He didn't know what it was about, but had shared his concerns. Bellamy should not feel responsible just because an auror died.

"Sit down," Julia said, as Bellamy entered the large room that was the office. A beautifully polished desk filled up a portion of the space. It had a burn mark that Bellamy remembered had been there for many, many years. Locked away in the desk was a file that Julia had been looking at. This file was not kept with all the others. The head of department always took care of it personally. Julia didn't quite know how to start, and Bellamy just waited.

Bellamy had looked just the same for so long. Julia reminded him, "You were Professor Potter, remember, when I started school?"

Bellamy smiled. "Gryffindor. You were friendly with Tom."

Julia nodded. "It was your greatest achievement about that time, though it took a while."

Bellamy creased his forehead. What had he done about that time?

Julia smiled. "One day, I was a muggle-born, occasionally even called mud-blood, or worse, and then I was simply of perfectly honourable medj parentage. It didn't happen in a day, of course, but I'd never have got to this position with that former attitude still current."

Bellamy grinned. "I had to pay a big fine, once. I was before a Disciplinary Committee, and threw a tantrum because they thought muggle-baiting a very minor crime. They fined me for disrespect."

Julia was curious. That hadn't been in the file. "What did you do?"

Bellamy looked out the window, and scratched his nose, "I um - There was a rapist. I castrated him."

Julia gave a peal of laughter. "No wonder you were in trouble!"

Bellamy was looking sheepish. "It seemed to me the obvious thing to do. I haven't done it since, though."

Julia was looking more thoughtful. "When Tom died, you were very upset, and nearly just walked away."

Bellamy looked uncomfortably out the window.

Julia continued. "Dieter says you feel yourself responsible for Alexander's death."

Bellamy stated the fact as he saw it. "It was only because of me that he died."

Julia rose. "Come with me."

Bellamy hadn't been in the aurors' offices for a very long time. There were only three aurors there, most of them having previously had instructions to make themselves scarce. The ranks of desks seemed to stretch a long way. Without comment, Julia led him to the end of the room, and then turned and waited.

Bellamy said, "There has to be at least twice as many desks, and presumably aurors, as I've ever known."

Julia nodded, satisfied. "There is a basic problem that occurs again and again when people, especially young men, have the ability to work magic. They feel themselves too powerful, especially among Medjkind, and sometimes it goes to their heads. Aurors help in two ways. One is the obvious, they try and uphold the law, and the second is that the profession carries sufficient prestige that potentially dangerous wizards are often deflected into becoming aurors themselves, rather than going the other way."

Bellamy looked at the ranks of desks. "So many?"

"While you were away, the department was expanded again and again, and still we couldn't keep control. We needed you. While you're around, even if you never directly intervene in crime prevention yourself, dark wizards just don't raise their heads too far."

Bellamy was silent, and Julia started walking slowly, back through the centre aisle. "That's Vilhelm's desk. He was crippled with a combination of spells. You cured him the first day you started work in Sweden." She turned to him, "You remember those few weeks in Sweden?"

Bellamy nodded, and she wondered just how much he did remember. She pointed again. "Adler wasn't crippled, but he certainly looks better without bat ears!"

A few more steps. "That's Evan's desk. They still call him Ginger. He's in charge of the trainees, now, as his health didn't recover from the Tulloch family's little hobby."

Bellamy remarked, "There's so many desks."

Julia said, "We're very much over-staffed now, and there's currently a considerable number of excess aurors working in other departments. Now you're back, we just don't need the numbers."

She stopped again, and pointed, "There, there and there. That's a grouping of aurors who used to be pumpkin-heads. You cured those, and eleven others when we brought you back from Australia."

Bellamy's forehead creased. He wasn't sure if he remembered that.

Julia asked, "Do you remember defeating Spectra McFiddan?"

Bellamy nodded.

"She's a nasty piece," Julia said calmly. "She's got a lot of enemies - all female, though. She certainly must know a few good tricks!" They were back nearly to the door. "Out of the aurors who've looked after you, we've only lost Keith and Alexander."

"Keith?" asked Bellamy, shocked.

"Someone thought he was the great wizard, because he looked like a great wizard should look." And she regarded Bellamy's very ordinary appearance with a smile. "I can see how you escaped notice living among Medjkind." She pointed. "Tea-room next."

Obediently, Bellamy followed her lead.

The tea-room was empty. Conspicuous on the end wall, was a portrait. Clare was the artist, and it showed head and shoulders of Bellamy. He was shown in a faded shirt, and it appeared that his hair was tied back. White showed in his hair. He wasn't wearing glasses. The eyes looked into nowhere, and showed a depth of pain that few knew. It gave a feeling of an intense loneliness, and even a vulnerability.

"The aurors heard about it, tracked it down, and combined to buy it." Julia said. "That was several years ago. Even when you seemed to be lost and confused, you were still valued."

Bellamy looked at the portrait, and said nothing. Did they really value him that much, even though he was the cause of deaths?

Julia smiled. "I was in Medj Affairs then, but there was a lot of laughter the day after. The aurors had money left over, and used it for supplies for a party. Their department was wrecked. It seems there were steeple chases, from desk, across the partition to the next desk, all up and down the room."

Bellamy laughed. "I'd have loved to see that!"

"There were a few fist fights, too."

Bellamy protested, "I've never seen an auror yet who didn't look down his nose at me when I've done that!"

"Well, Biff and Redge got out their wands, and squared up, and someone, I don't know who, said that the great wizard prefers muggle fistfights. So that's what they did, and then there were a few more bouts. The cleaners in the morning found the mess, with a few aurors, including Biff and Redge, still asleep on the floor. Ted Laurie was furious!"

Julia thought she was doing well. Bellamy's face was alight with his enjoyment of the tale. "We're just going to the canteen next, and I'll buy you coffee and a cake." said Julia, and nodded to Bob. The aurors could go back to their desks now, and use their tea-room again. There was nothing special arranged in the canteen. Julia just wanted Bellamy to remember a place he was probably familiar with from the past. And when he smiled at the woman pouring his coffee, called her by name, and asked about her daughter, Julia thought her strategy a good one.

At the perfectly ordinary table, afterward, in the perfectly ordinary staff canteen, Bellamy regarded Julia with a glint of humour. In front of him was a generous sized piece of apple pie. "My favourite Minister for Magic ever, was a woman called Barbara Bancroft. Whenever she wanted something from me, she served up a very generous morning or afternoon tea. You could have saved your careful stratagems - just give me something good to eat, and I'll probably do exactly as you want!"

Julia laughed. "All I want is for you to stay around. You can have your holiday, and enjoy your baby when it comes, but stay around." And she reached forward, and took both his hands. "Put up with the bodyguards. They are needed, and if one now and then gets hurt, it is small in the overall balance of things."

Bellamy looked down. Even in the overall balance of things, he couldn't think of big Alexander as small. He'd take more care next time, maybe even put aside some of his reluctance to probe minds. If he'd looked into the mind of Benji, he would have felt the spell on him. But he looked back at Julia, who still looked anxious. "I'll stay around, and put up with my bodyguards," and he looked around at a small gathering next to the door, "Unless, of course, they presume to give me orders!"

**x**

Esme Rutherford started visiting every week at the start of December, as she'd promised. Pat was very well, and looking forward to the birth, still carrying the babe easily on her tall frame, although she no longer practised galloping a pony to the other side of the property at a moment's notice. She was slowing down, and spent a lot of time reading in front of the fire. There was the spa, too, often shared with the old people, Sybil, Clare, and especially Caradoc. They found it wonderful for easing aching bones. But Caradoc said quite definitely to Pat one day, that in the evenings, it was for the exclusive use of Bellamy and Pat. He smiled benignly at her. "So if you have a need to lock the door then, no-one will know." Pat thanked him, seriously. She and Bellamy quite often found a need to lock the door in the evening.

Bellamy was a lot more active than Pat. He had opened up his old workshop, and was very involved in working on a better designed leixtrium. He thought that there had to be an answer to their interminable problems of faltering grestles. It was one place that Margaret was definitely not allowed to go, though he showed Pat one day. His inventions had provided most of his income in his younger years, although now his wealth had grown sufficiently that his investments were wide-ranging. Alison had told her once, leaving Pat feeling a touch dazed. She knew that Bellamy himself, had little idea of the extent of his wealth.

Curiously, Pat asked her husband whether they paid taxes.

"I think so," said Bellamy, with surprise. "Alison does all that."

So Pat asked Alison. "Oh, yes," said Alison, "Although some of it has to be in the form of anonymous donations, in order not to raise questions. Bellamy's even paid death duties twice, when he's decided it's best to assume a younger identity."

Bellamy enjoyed the company of Margaret, and quite often found Ursula or Archie to ask if it was all right to take the little girl riding, or into town. He tried taking her visiting with him, but when she disgraced herself by having a screaming battle with a ten year old Malfoy boy, he desisted. Margaret's manners were not altogether to be trusted.

But he was alone when he went to visit Connor Maguire and his wife. His horse was properly saddled and bridled, and he'd chosen to ride the bay gelding, as Jester's unusual markings were apt to draw attention. Connor's daughter happened to be with her father when she saw him through the window. "Do you know anyone who rides a bay horse, and has the sloppiest seat in the saddle I've ever seen?"

Connor joined her at the window. Bellamy's back was slouched, and his stirrups very long. Connor grinned. His daughter hadn't seen the sloppy rider sticking like glue to a bucking, playing horse, and laughing as he did so.

Bellamy formally met Connor's daughter, and stayed a while, talking and gossiping about the local people. Pat was very well, he was able to tell his old friend, expecting the baby in a few weeks. It was only when the daughter left that Connor asked about Adrian. A son of over seventy might be a little hard to explain. He didn't mention to his daughter that Bellamy was the owner of the property that was used by the Pony Club. It was better if she continued dealing only with Archie.

On Bellamy's return, he found Esme with Pat, choosing a bedroom for when she came to stay. "Usually about ten days for a first baby," Esme said, "And unless there's a shock or something, we always have a very good idea when to expect labour - to within a day or two."

Pat smiled. She liked and trusted Esme, but Bellamy was beginning to find her irritating. She always shot him such piercingly curious looks.

Pat found him a while later, perched on the edge of Alison's desk, reading a letter. On the table in the corner were neatly stacked piles of correspondence. Pat regarded them. "Can I have a look?" she asked.

Bellamy nodded, still reading his letter. Thank you letters, invitations, many of them answered by Alison without even consulting Bellamy; - she knew how he hated formal affairs, though it seemed that secretaries of organisations felt he should always be invited anyway. Bills, of course - an estate with staff was expensive to run.

Pat picked up a letter from a much smaller pile, and Alison frowned and glanced at her boss. But Pat only laughed at the naive letter from a teenage girl, offering to allow Bellamy to be her very first lover.

Bellamy glanced up at the sudden spurt of laughter, and grinned. "I deal with all those Thursdays, after the spell-breaking."

Alison was horrified and swore to Pat that he never did at all, that they were just answered with another form letter indicating that he had no interest in young girls.

Alison handed Pat an unopened letter. Pat still liked opening her own mail, though she was getting more every day, it seemed, especially after a story of her defending her husband in France, was in the paper. There was an impressive illustration of her kneeling beside him, and calmly aiming her gun at the distorted face of an attacker. It must have been from someone's memory, possibly embroidered, as there had been no photographers close. But this was a request to be the honoured guest at next year's Pluravista.

"What's a Pluravista?" she asked.

"They're vile formal affairs with about three hours of speeches," said Bellamy.

Alison said, a touch severely, "It's where recently graduated witches and wizards are presented to an honoured guest. It's their introduction to the adult world, and always held in early August. There are a few formalities, but it's a very special occasion, and the youngsters would be thrilled to have you as the honoured guest."

Pat looked from Alison to her husband, and pocketed the invitation. "I might think about it."

Pat was being treated with a great deal of respect after the newspaper report. There were a few young and attractive women who sneered, and even made up to Bellamy when they socialised. But Bellamy seldom seemed to notice, except that once an attractive girl found she had to cancel a date because of a sudden rash of pimples. She stayed away from the great wizard after that.

Another time there was a very determined young woman, who made herself a real nuisance. She had black hair, looked Asian, and spoke English with a slight accent. Two of the bodyguards wound up throwing her out, especially when the hostess of the party denied all knowledge of the exotic looking woman.

Spectra McFiddan was much in evidence at all the pre-Christmas celebrations, and Bellamy, like all the men, enjoyed her wit. She was so brazen, so totally unashamed of her actions, past and present. But she seduced one husband too many, and was found dead, her beautiful face now covered with warts. Her funeral was large, but no husbands dared go, and there was not a single woman. There were suspicions, but no proof, and maybe it was just coincidence that Lucretia Malfoy and her husband had gone abroad.

Spectra had never married, and there were no children.

A room had been set up by Pat as a nursery, but it was Bellamy that was always fussing with it, wanting to add decorations, too many of them in the bright red-orange colour that he adored. The furniture was from the store-room, that seemed to have more areas in it than could possibly be shown on any house plan, although he told Pat she could have all new things, if she wanted, of course. "Julie had to have new things," Bellamy said, "She always liked new, and preferably expensive. I'm probably lucky she didn't want gold-plated!"

He spoke fondly, and Pat smiled. She was not jealous of those women who'd gone before her. From what Bellamy had said, they were all so different, but Pat knew that he'd loved them all. He told her that he used to see them a lot when he was sick, but now it was like they'd gone further away.

Young Peter came home for the Christmas holidays, and Bellamy found company when he exercised in the gymnasium, or swam his laps in the pool. There was a light sprinkling of snow a few days before Christmas, but Peter and Bellamy went for a long ride on the moors. It was not very slippery, in the bitter cold, and they raced back. Jester was fast, but Shasta was very fast indeed, and won the race.

Peter still had every intention of staying on to look after the great wizard when he left school. Margaret seemed willing to share the boss, but it seemed that she might have changed her mind about letting him have 'Mrs. Boss,' as Pat often found that the girl was close by whenever she walked outside. Once she slipped on some frosty grass, and Margaret was instantly by her side, ready to help her up, and telling her bossily to sit down for a moment until she felt better. Pat was amused, and put up with the attention. Margaret, as usual now, was adorned with a small backpack, that contained a red-haired doll.

Margaret viewed herself as an important part of the defence team that protected the property, and Caradoc had given her a device that would send sparks or make a siren sound, to draw attention in case of attack. She handled it responsibly, and made no false alarms. Therese and Katrina started playing their part as additional protection, devising their own hours, not being predictable, and working in with Archie. Sidney and Kitty, living in the house, were an additional protection. When Pat went off the property, she always had an escort, as she could be vulnerable to being taken as a hostage. Bellamy nearly always declined an escort.

At Hogwarts, at this time, Tristan Ridgecombe, Slytherin prefect, and son of Katrina, mentioned that his mother acted as security guard for the great wizard.

"Really!" said another of the seventh years. Slytherin prefects had a room to themselves, and Tristan liked to show off by inviting in his friends, who were supposed to feel privileged.

Vincent Fabiano said, "Do you know what the reward is for his death?"

Tristan named the figure without hesitation. He knew.

The third seventeen-year-old mentioned that it seemed a bit strange, as he would have expected the aurors to have been able to work out who was to pay the reward long ago. But Tristan knew a bit about this, too. "It's already just waiting, and the gold is surrounded by enchantments. Only the wizard or wizards responsible for the death can find it. But it's already there, waiting."

"How do you know it's already there? Maybe it's just a con!"

There were four teenagers in the room. The fourth was a blonde youth with a sneering caste to his countenance. Almost in unison, the three others turned to Haslett Malfoy. Calmly, and speaking with authority, Malfoy said, "It's there all right. And I reckon the four of us could take him if we knew where he lived, or where he was expected."

"When he's spell-breaking?" said Fabiano.

Malfoy shook his head. "He's far too well protected then."

Tristan Ridgecombe said casually, "Even divided among four, the reward's enough to set us up for life."

Malfoy's eyes went to him consideringly, but he said nothing further, and the talk drifted to talk of the girls in their year. After ten minutes something else relevant was mentioned. "That poison that he took in France, I reckon Hortense Smythe might be brainy enough to make something like that..."

An amount of money was mentioned. The reward, divided into five.

Two days later, Hortense Smythe was given a key to Ridgecombe's room. It was one of the few places in the castle private enough to brew a poison. Malfoy had provided the recipe, but it would take over a month to make. It was the same poison that had been so nearly successful in France. The poison was disabling, but seldom lethal. Additional action would be needed to cause death.

A blood oath was sworn. The five would share, whoever, or how ever many actually managed the deed. Hortense stayed at Hogwarts over Christmas, and added ingredients, stirred, raised and lowered temperatures as required. She was top student in Potions.

Whenever the five were together, plans were turned over and over among them. "We'll just keep going until we kill him," said the one who'd been accustomed to refer to him as 'Grandfather Harry.'

***chapter end***