Harry and Ron watched as Croaker lifted a small stream of blood from the wound he had made on Gerald's arm. The white energy around the tip of his wand flowed in a circle as if in a liquid state as well. Looking at the blood itself, occasional flickers of white and black energy could be seen throughout it.
The unspeakable kept his gaze upon the now floating pool of red intently as if it were whispering to him words only he could understand. And that's precisely what the aurors assumed was happening.
Oliver had returned with a pot of coffee and mugs, setting them down quietly atop the television stand on the wall between Croaker and the aurors. He then stood to the side of it, watching the proceedings before him.
Even Gerald himself seemed enthralled with the magic being performed and Harry found himself studying the wizard's curious expression as if he'd already forgotten his distaste for the Ministry employees. The auror had to remind himself that besides his years learning from Voldemort, the dark wizard had next to no experience with the magical world...with other wizards at all, really.
After several minutes passed without anyone speaking, not even Croaker to share how his work was going, Harry and Ron stepped over to Oliver, each grabbing a cup and fixing themselves some coffee. Oliver did the same, the three wizards drawing Gerald's attention briefly before he sighed and put his eyes back on the caster still toying with his blood.
Sipping at his hot drink, Harry glanced over everyone in the room and came to the conclusion that they were all eager to know if the unspeakable had discovered anything yet.
However, Gerald wouldn't ask because that would blatantly show both interest and ignorance. Neither auror spoke for the same reason they had tried to learn about the new magic earlier that morning before leaving for the dark wizard's residence. That left Oliver to say something which, finally, he did. However, he turned to the aurors for enlightenment as to not disrupt the working wizard.
''What exactly is he looking for?'' Oliver asked in a somewhat quieter tone than normal.
''Oh,'' Harry did his best to seem well acquainted with the magic being performed, ''Mr. Croaker can detect many things from Gerald's blood that could help us better perceive what gives him his unique capabilities.''
Oliver sipped from his mug, his lips curling to the side like he was fighting to understand, ''Like what? I've never seen spellwork like this...''
Professor Croaker cleared his throat suddenly, interrupting the strained conversation, much to Harry's delight. ''Well, for one,'' he spoke as his intense stare broke and he shifted Gerald's blood into one of the glass vials propped up on his table, ''the study of wizardry that a person is most suited for. That always leads to a better knowledge of someone.'' He had sealed the vial and lowered his wand again.
Gerald glinted at the man before wiping the stray blood from his arm and bending his elbow a few times and then resting the arm in his lap like the other had been.
''You could tell Ger's strongest form of magic from that?'' Oliver rephrased.
''Hm...'' Croaker nodded at the man before turning and facing the dark wizard again, who had stayed in his seat. ''Necromancy is not an art the magical world thinks too highly of,'' he narrowed his eyes at Gerald, almost growling.
''Necromancy?'' Ron squeaked.
Oliver laughed suddenly, the sound feeling awkward against the otherwise solemn air in the room. ''Gerald's good at raising the dead? Right...'' he laughed again.
Harry knew, however, that Croaker wouldn't be joking around. Neither was he inept at what he did. The mention of the uncommon magic in a serious matter did have Harry in wonder though.
''That is a common misconception, Mr. Smith,'' the unspeakable clarified, eyes shifting back to him. ''In reality, raising the dead as anything more than inferi, animated corpses, is impossible within our realm of capability.''
Harry recalled then his first experience with the undead creatures known as the inferi. He had aided Albus Dumbledore on a quest to recover one of Voldemort's horcruxes, the locket of Salazar Slytherin. Deep inside the cave where they thought it was hidden, Harry made the mistake of touching the murky lake therein and alerting the creatures to their presence. They were terrible, mindless beings that mostly looked like emaciated humans crawling about and screeching.
Oliver had retreated from scoffing, placing his mug down and crossing his arms. ''So what is it actually?'' he inquired politely this time and Harry barely caught wind of the quick, distrustful glance he shot at his friend.
''Necromancy, at its base, is a form of divination,'' Croaker continued, ''It revolves around communication with spirits in order to pull power from their energy. Necromancy can be used in multiple ways from creating potions to performing curses.''
''If that's all it is,'' Oliver furthered, ''Why does it have such a bad reputation, as you put it?''
''Because,'' the unspeakable put eyes on Gerald again who had held his glare the entire discussion, ''Most wizards who invoke the skill, misuse it. Instead of working with the spirits of the dead, they take control over them and abuse them selfishly for their own desires. This has even led to grave robbing, mistreating corpses, and otherwise disrespecting the dead. That is why, though technically not a dark art, it can easily be judged as one.''
The man fell into an abrupt silence, his and Gerald's eyes locked as the aurors' and Oliver's attention alike rested on the two. At last, Gerald responded to the accusation.
''I've always had a talent for divination, I'll cop to that,'' he lifted an eyebrow, ''and like you said, the evil associated with necromancy has nothing to do with the communing with spirits itself.''
There was another, smaller pause.
''Indeed,'' Croaker mused, taking his sights from Gerald and looking back to his table. ''How old are you?''
Gerald tilted his head to the side with an odd look, ''Seventy-four...'' he answered immediately but with a tone matching his expression. ''Why?''
''Curious,'' the unspeakable responded.
Harry couldn't tell if the man meant he had been curious of Gerald's age or if he was stating that the interrogated wizard's answer was curious to him. Gerald, however, apparently assumed the latter.
''I can't explain my appearance,'' he said, watching Croaker closely and shifting in his chair. ''I can tell you that I have not purposely altered my appearance or my body. And certainly not through abusing spirits. ''
The unspeakable seemed to ignore this continued dialogue as he fidgeted with one of the instruments on the table that Harry surmised to be some ancient version of a calculator.
Gerald removed his attention from his detainer and stood from his seat, stretching his arms above him. He then let them drop back to his sides before stepping to the other end of the wall that Oliver rested against, remaining within close proximity of Croaker.
The movement reminded Harry that the wizard had removed his shirt to give to his...guest before the start of this session. The clear age gap between the two men would have been a larger thought in his mind if it weren't for Gerald's youthful looks.
Besides, Harry found himself concerned instead with the scars now clearly visible upon the pale man's skin.
On the top of his chest on either side, were countless white lines spreading both horizontally and vertically across his breast from one arm to the other. The coloration and the thinness of them denoted that they had been both shallow and uncared for.
Lower on his abdomen, however, was a wide, almost purplish colored scar that stretched from one hip and just past his belly button. Although it was large, there were several smaller, dot like scars alongside the original wound. Having grown up in the muggle world himself, Harry recognized the tiny spots as being created by staples, a muggle procedure of closing wounds.
Hands with thumbs in the pockets of his black jeans, Gerald halfway displayed the tattoo on his arm. The one that had originally been related to the death mark. He saw something there that the photograph still in his robes didn't show.
Bumps.
Underneath the design, were raised areas of skin in long, even patterns that could only be the remnants of scars from many years in the past.
Gerald leaned forward at that moment, catching onto Harry's studying him. He didn't say anything. He just stared at the auror, expressionless.
''What happened?'' Harry asked confidently and curiously.
Croaker looked up from what he was doing, Oliver turned away from the unspeakable, and Ron had already been watching Gerald with his partner.
Gerald took a breath in, ''Got into a fight,'' he answered vaguely.
Oliver cleared his throat, ''Gerald, pissed off some skinheads in a bar who left him bleeding out in an alley,'' he pointed angrily at his friend.
Gerald lifted a hand and literally brushed Oliver off with it, his friend, in turn, giving an exasperated sigh.
''Are you done?'' Croaker gruffed.
''What do you want now?'' Gerald growled.
''Just need some dates,'' the unspeakable glared. ''When did you kill your mother?''
The wizard had asked for this grim detail so nonchalantly that the dark wizard stilled. ''Uh...it was late '61,'' even his voice had grown soft.
Croaker fidgeted with his tool again. ''And that was a year after you met Tom Riddle?''
''Yeah...''
''What year did you part ways with Voldemort?'' the unspeakable kept the questions coming on a steady beat.
''1973,'' Gerald's face showed confusion again.
More fidgeting before the next question, ''Your band formed?''
Gerald suddenly bit his lip. Harry could tell he was fearful of what the wizard might be piecing or trying to piece together about him. Nonetheless, he answered, ''Officially? Seven years ago so...'94.''
''How long before that did you meet the other members?''
Gerald glanced at Oliver and motioned a hand toward him, ''We met in 1993. I met Brad in 1991.''
The unspeakable nodded to himself, inputting information on the archaic equivalent to a computing device he'd been working with.
Harry exchanged a glance with Ron. Gerald knew Brad two years before Oliver. This fact strengthened Harry's theory about their friendship so he took advantage of the muggle's name being mentioned.
''What of your friend, Brad, anyway?''
Gerald turned his focus to the auror, ''Excuse me?''
''I was just interested in knowing what you two plan on doing. You know, as far as work goes,'' Harry played the innocently curious role well. ''Without Brad with you, you can't very well continue on with your band, right?''
Gerald took in a breath, his posture, his expression, everything about him loosening. Harry could feel his relief at the change in subject. Beyond that, he was unsure of whether the dark wizard had any inclination of their suspicions regarding his muggle friend.
''Brad is actually on his way overseas now so we can discuss it,'' Oliver explained.
''Oh, okay,'' Harry smiled, ''Does he know why you two came here?''
Both Gerald and Oliver flinched.
''We're not MACUSA,'' Harry calmed, ''If Brad is that close to you and he's not causing a problem, we don't care if he's aware of your magical status.''
What the auror said was mostly true. The Ministry of Magic forbid relinquishing magical knowledge to muggles. However, there was also more leeway with obliviation decrees. For example, Harry's nonmagical aunt had known about his mother being a witch. In turn, the man she married and their son Dudley also knew about wizardry even though they were muggles. It wasn't doing any harm so the Ministry wasn't concerned with it.
''Yeah,'' Gerald spoke. ''He does.''
''Hm...''They all turned to see Croaker had packed up his things, ''That'll be all for now. Thank you for your cooperation.''
Oliver nodded at the wizard, but Gerald just stayed, crossing his arms as he watched the unspeakable walk to meet the aurors at the door. Croaker grinned at them before passing by and continuing on to exit.
''We look forward to meeting your friend,'' Harry smiled and added a 'thank you' as the two aurors ducked out after their older partner.