"Gerald, sit back down," Oliver caringly commanded.

Performing magic without the aid of a wand was something nearly unheard of in adults. Largely, when this was done, it was with young children who hadn't been chosen by a wand yet or teenagers who had been forced to suppress their magic. In the latter case, these young witches or wizards had come to lose complete control of their powers. Their spells were destructive and fatal, often ending in the child's death itself. These poor children were called obscurials.

But an adult with full control of themselves and their powers who didn't need to use a wand? Some grown wizards could perform small, quick tasks without a wand's aid such as giving their tea a single stir, but all magic without a wand? Spells even as powerful as the killing curse? It just didn't happen.

Gerald stretched upward and returned to his seat, lifting a hand and flicking its finger to turn on a stereo in the distance. Rock music began playing loudly. When he plopped back onto the couch, he lifted his hand again and twisted it, turning the volume down. It was all done for show to prove his sincerity. After the music was decreased to an easy listen, Gerald dropped his hand to scratch his back as he looked awkwardly at Ron who still stood with his wand in hand.

Harry gave his partner a nod who in response let his wand to his side and sat again as well. Gerald then rested his attention between the two aurors.

"I didn't know it was so unusual until I met Ollie here," he continued, motioning at Oliver.

"We've talked much about it," Oliver picked up, "and we wonder if this ability has a correlation to his appearance."

Harry and Ron had almost forgotten the man's age. Seventy plus years and the body of a twenty-year old. Wizards could live many decades longer than muggles with good health, but it generally didn't affect the outer processes of aging.

"Can you explain your theory on this connection further?" Harry asked.

"There's not a lot of detail to it," Gerald shrugs, "Oliver thinks that I have a deeper connection with...nature or something-"

"The source of magic," Oliver gruffed at his friend, then turned to Harry. "Whatever it is within us that gives magical people magic...I feel that Gerald is closer to this...has a more pure, if you will, source of it within him. It keeps him from growing old quickly and allows him to tap into his powers without an aide."

Harry looked back at Gerald. The man seemed annoyed with the current progression of the conversation. "Do you not think so?" He offered is interest for Gerald to speak his mind on the subject.

"Eh. I really don't care," he shrugged.

Somehow Harry didn't think that he was truly apathetic toward it, but also didn't think trying to push further was going to go anywhere. Harry and Ron were both intrigued by this discovery of magic without a wand. However, it wasn't the point of their investigation and Harry didn't want to steer too far off track. So he redirected their dialogue. "With your mother...was that the only time you performed one of the unforgivable curses on a person?"

Gerald hesitated. "Successfully...yes."

Harry stared deeply into the icy blue spheres adorning the man's face. He was lying. Even though Gerald's eyes had not faltered from his own and his posture and expression didn't change, Harry could tell that Gerald was being blatantly dishonest and he wanted to know why. Why had he shared the story of his mother's death so freely and only to became close-lipped now? If he didn't want it to be known that he had harmed or killed others with the dark magic Voldemort had taught him, why share that he had murdered his mother at all?

Was it his attempt to spin a sob story? or...Harry's attention flew over to Oliver. Maybe Oliver Smith didn't know as much about his friend as he thought he did. It wouldn't shock Harry to learn that Gerald was keeping secrets even from his closest companion.

"I see," Harry said, taking care to raise an eyebrow knowingly at Gerald. "But you did become a deatheater."

Gerald threw his head back in a chuckle, his arms once more stretching around the unseen bodies sitting beside him. "Fuck. No." He said deliberately and angrily. Assuming the other wizard was aware of the 'death mark' he wore, he pulled his arms into him, rolling up the sleeve on his left to expose the ink there. "This...is mine. Tom stole the design of his 'death mark' from me," he spat with conviction, taking care to stress his distaste when speaking the words 'death mark.' "I had this done shortly after I met him. It is symbolic of the never ending cycle of life and death."

"And the symbol on the the skull?" Harry poked.

"Oh I think you know what that is," Gerald grinned at the auror. "I added that years later."

Harry removed his eyes from Gerald and put them back upon the tattoo. The Deathly Hallows represented mastery over death...a way to live forever. Gerald had placed its symbol on a picture he said represented the endless cycle of death and birth. Several ideas behind why this was done and why it meant so much to the man circled in his head. He leaned forward to look more closely at the tattoo.

"Must be very important to you," Harry mused. "What for you to have such a large and permanent placement of it on your skin."

Gerald's brow furrowed, "Is my taste in art part of your investigation?"

"No," Harry relented, leaning back into is seat. A look at Oliver told him that he was worried with the tone Gerald had returned to. The aurors had picked up throughout this interview that Oliver must have coached his friend against acting certain ways which Gerald either had trouble doing or didn't really care about too much. "Forgive my curiosity," Harry said. "When was it that you and Tom parted ways?"

Gerald pushed his sleeve back down. "It was in the 70s...I can't give you an exact date, but I want to say it was '72 or '73," he had placed the thumb of his left hand over his mouth in thought, "Tom had already become 'Voldemort' by then and had gathered several allies to his...cause," his eyes narrowed. He was staring off into space and his words had become cold. Not in an unfeeling way or even in judgement though. More like the far-away whisperings of a ghost.

"Were you not in agreement to his 'cause?'" Ron asked.

Gerald didn't move other than to briefly curl and uncurl the thumb over his lips. "I don't like the separation of muggles from wizards," he said. "I also don't think less of those without magic or who aren't human. So no," he lifted himself, suddenly returning his eyes to the level of the others in the room. "I was not in agreement. We fought. I left."

The ending to his story was so abrupt, it threw both Harry and Ron off. Looking at Oliver again, he seemed equally confused. "What- uh-" Harry failed in his attempt to keep the story going.

"Ger," Oliver chimed in, "you and Voldemort literally fought, right? That is what you meant before by saying you had never successfully performed one of the unforgivable curses at another time." It was the most Oliver had spoken since Harry and Ron began talking to Gerald. He knew that their interest laid mostly in what his friend had to say. However, he seemed to realize that Gerald had grown weary of the company so he did what he could to speed things along.

Gerald had turned a stare toward Oliver looking at him quizzically? or perhaps critically... Either way, he elaborated, "Yes, we did. I informed him that I was returning to America...that he could keep my friendship, but to never look for my help in those matters. I didn't expect him to leave it as such. Hoped, of course, but...he pulled his wand on me, throwing me against a wall before using the cruciatus curse." Gerald stopped, straightening his back and running both hands through the sides of his hair. His eyes were soft then and stared off into space again, but only momentarily. He quickly eased and returned to recalling the incident.

"I was never as strong a wizard as him or as strong as he had always expected me to become," Gerald admitted in an odd fashion, "But I managed to raise a hand and fend him off long enough to get up from the floor and hit him with an Incendio spell." Gerald huffed, "I really didn't want to hurt him, but...I knew the sentiment wouldn't be returned... So in the brief moments he was ridding himself of the flames, I conjured the killing curse," Gerald paused as he tried to keep emotion from reflecting in his voice. "Obviously that didn't work," he scoffed, looking at his company with an almost apologetic expression.

"He blocked it," Ron surmised, to which Gerald nodded. "Then what happened?"

"I don't remember most of it," Gerald's gaze was downward again. "I do remember a lot of pain...a lot of pain," he repeated in a softer voice. Torturing his own friends and allies was definitely not out of the spectrum of things Voldemort would do, but something about hearing Gerald share how the dark lord had done this to him seemed...extremely horrible even for him. "Days later, I woke up outside," Gerald continued, "I was in the middle of a cemetery. I thought I was alone, but...as I sat up, I heard Tom's voice."

"What did he say?" Harry asked.

"'You can go.' He said 'you can go,'" Gerald let the auror see into his eyes once more. "He said, 'I don't require your assistance any longer...not at present.' I watched him apparate and disappear. Afterwards, I went back to America."

"'Not at present,'" Harry quoted. "What did he mean by that? Did he ever contact you again?"

Gerald shook his head, "No."

It was the truth this time.

"Is that all?" Oliver drew the aurors attention. The inquiry itself seemed rude as if Oliver was annoyed, but his words had been soft. He wasn't aggravated, only concerned for his friend's state of mind.

"Just one more thing," Harry assured him and then looked back at Gerald. "Did you know or were you otherwise ever associated with the deatheaters or other of these 'allies' that Voldemort had?"

"No," Gerald answered as if suddenly remembering something. "Tom never introduced me to any of them. He never brought them around me. I thought it was strange and I did question him about it at one point..." Gerald trailed and Harry once again got the feeling he was omitting something from his story. "He only ever said that it was safer that way."

Oliver looked at his friend then as if the tidbit was new to him as well, but he didn't acknowledge anything to that effect. Instead, he stood and gestured to the door before beginning to walk to it himself. Harry and Ron removed themselves from their seats and followed. Before entering the hallway to leave completely, Harry stopped to say,

"Thank you both for your time. We will be in touch if any further action is needed by the ministry."

"Thank you," Oliver nodded.

The only response the aurors received from Gerald was a hand in the air, once more making a twisting motion as the music in the background got a little louder. A musician that neither Harry nor Ron recognized was singing. It was a male voice vocalizing soft lyrics to a slow rock song. As the two left, the weird and emotional wizard's voice could be heard singing in a strong, but sentimental voice. The song slowly trailed through the hallway...

I can't stop the rain
from falling down on you again.
I can't stop the rain,
but I will hold you 'til it goes away...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just a reminder that this story takes place directly after Harry, Ron, and Hermione graduated from Hogwarts. It's the early 2000s. The song Gerald was singing is 'When the rain comes' by Third Day which was released in 2001.