May 2, 1998

After detaining Harrow Avery, I found Lucinda and Tavish sometime later in the Atrium with a horrified, questioning Quincy at my side. Lucinda wore an expression of a contented, but menacing, cat and Tavish sported a black eye that spoke of a close quarters fight – he was smiling like a victor and I hesitated to think about what his opponent looked like. I had to shake off their attempts to bring me back to Thornell, I was so tempted by the idea of return and sleep, but I had a final duty to my brother and needed to wait for Elihu to return from Azkaban. I promised Lucinda and Tavish that I would be back at Thornell as soon as I could. Quincy slid me a Pepper-Up potion to keep me on my feet as they left for home to wait for me. The caffeine in the potion was enough to ease my headache for the moment, but did very little for my exhaustion – something that a potion could no longer chase away.

Quincy had been hard-pressed to leave my side since I had left the courtroom about Alex's death – Quincy finding out about it while I incapacitated Harrow Avery was not how I would have chosen for him to discover the horrible truth.

I did not know how long it took for Elihu to emerge back into the atrium, but when he arrived, he was not alone. When Elihu emerged from the upper floors of the Ministry, he was balancing Valencia Talbott through each step with help from Cassandra. Elihu seemed surprised to see Quincy and I there, the pair of us rushing forward to meet them halfway. Valencia reached out a hand to me, which I took, trying not to squeeze it too tightly, she seemed delicate and near skeletal from her time in Azkaban. Elihu had questions and quickly got the important parts of the story as Valencia staggered back to life with a look of horror and despair in her eyes as I told them collectively at Alex was dead and his murderer was bound in the courtrooms.

Elihu said the kindest thing he could when I was finished. "I'm so sorry."

He held Valencia little tighter as Cassandra inhaled through her teeth in shock. Valencia stepped away from Elihu on shaking legs, Cassandra reaching over to help steady her. Valencia looked exhausted and half-dead herself, even the small number of Dementors that remained at Azkaban were draining to prisoners.

Elihu reached out to put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it in a fatherly manner, I noted that his hand was shaking. "May his memory be a blessing." He paused for a moment to sigh deeply and take his hand off my shoulder to pinch the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up slightly as he tried to slow an oncoming headache. "Audrey, can you come to my office tomorrow morning to start the paperwork and give a report to the Chief Hanlon?"

I nodded, "I can go now if you want?"

"No." Elihu's voice was quick and sharp. "I have too much to do today and you look like a shambling corpse." He winced at the bad, but honest, word choice. "Sorry. Get some sleep. Come to the embassy in the morning and you can tell us everything. I need to tell Jack to call off his invasion plans – I won't tell him about Alex until I talk to you."

I nodded; half slumped over with the mere concept of sleep.

I barely registered Quincy leading me to the fireplace and placing a few pinches of floo power in my hands.

When I arrived at Thornell, I was in one of the upper parlors, where I could hear the faint sounds of the children celebrating below to the radio announcements that had taken full control of the programming in the early morning hours. I fell face first into the decorative couch and slept.

Oo0Oo0

May 3, 1998

I woke up at an indiscernible time face down on a couch that was not meant to be slept on that I had drooled into. I had woken up in a wet puddle with my face stuck to the cushion and my body half covered by a blanket.

It was truly a pathetic sort of way to start the day. I was not entirely sure I was well rested, but I was too hungry to dig into that particular detail. Some kind soul had put a small plate with two scones accompanied by jam and clotted cream on the side table with a cup of spell warmed coffee and I ate like I had never seen food before in my life. There were no crumbs left behind and I was no happy I was alone in the room where no one had to witness the savagery that had just taken place.

I was licking my fingers of jam remnants before chasing the final drops of coffee at the bottom of the mug.

Delicious!

I went downstairs to greet the family, be hugged by a herd of half-awake children and quickly penned a note to Percy, telling him I was alive and would be along as soon as affairs were settled.

I hoped it was less cold that I thought it sounded.

But I was sure I knew how my next few days were going to go and Percy would have his own matters to deal with, I was sure.

Lucinda and Tavish welcomed me home with hugs, shoving fruit into my hands as I apologized for having to leave to handle these family matters. Tavish just dragged me in to kiss the top of my head. It was good to be home and know I was loved in some capacity, it made me feel like a person.

I sent my note to Percy off with one of the owls one of the student refugees owned, hoping it would come back quickly as I threw a pinch of floo powder into the fireplace and left to begin the final duties to my brother.

I arrived at the MACUSA Embassy as ordered, not prepared to say what was needed but ready to state my truths of the matter. I met Quincy at the grand fireplace and he led me straight up to Elihu's office, I did not need the help, but Quincy seemed reluctant to let me do this alone and it was not my place to say anything about that. I was sure he had questions too.

Elihu was sitting behind his desk, speaking with Chief Auror Hanlon, who had her arms crossed in front of her chest and a serious expression.

Quincy and I held our composure as Elihu told us to close the door behind us and that there were somethings he needed to tell us about how this was going to work. As Alex's death was being treated as a crime, Aurors Mankiller and Jenkins were going to attend the site for a full investigation – Elihu did not trust the British Ministry to be timely and I was asked to sit an interview with Head Auror Temperance Hanlon so we could begin to put together a timeline of how I ended up at the scene.

Hanlon took me to a private office; gave me a cup of coffee and a box of tissues I was not sure I would need from all the times I had replayed the events of that day. Then she told me that this was my interview, I was not under arrest, and I was only here to talk to her about what happened. We could stop at any point if I needed a break.

I took a sip of coffee and began to speak.

I told her I woke up to get a drink when the letter arrived. It was partially true and more polite than stating I was having excellent sex with a boyfriend that no one knew about.

In the telling, I left the mystical elements of the wraith aside, partly out of a choice to not be labelled insane, also because if I tried to form the words a feeling of strangulation would fall over me. Grasping my throat and squeezing tightly.

I watched Hanlon's expression as I spoke of arriving at the house. She nodded and winced in all the right places as I spoke of my encounter with Harrow Avery in the house.

"I spoke with Avery last night," Hanlon said, her voice gentle. "Aside from his ranting and raving about a monster, he accused you of being a parseltongue."

"I have no idea where he would get that idea." I said, allowing for the confusion to enter my voice. "I deduced he was not my brother by the things he was saying about them. The things he said were very... Well, British in their thought process. My father and Alex disagreed on many things, but the rights of parselmouths was one thing they agreed on."

Hanlon nodded and she asked for a short break to pass the address to the investigating Aurors and get me another cup of coffee.

I was going to struggle not jitter out of the embassy, but Hanlon was using the good coffee out of Elihu's office and I would be stupid to say no to more.

Was I engaging in duplicity? Absolutely. I could not be smeared with this snake shaped brush; it would ruin everything.

When Hanlon returned, she resumed her seat and passed me the coffee and a cup of water to help slow the effects of the caffeine in my system. She parroted back what I had told her already, asking if there was anything I wished to add before we continued. There was nothing and then I had to talk about the hard thing.

Watching the Chief Auror's face as I spoke about my duel with Harrow and the way things happened made me feel justified in how I felt about the matter. There were lines one did not cross with magic, wearing the face of another in an act of intimacy, identity theft through Polyjuice and other matters was always a big one. Sexual assault was its own category.

Hanlon validated my concerns and prospective on what happened being the kind of wrong that was beyond the pale. She said if I needed to talk, she would be able to put me in touch with someone here at the embassy as a private favor from the MACUSA government to help keep me off the record locally. I told her I would think about it.

I was not sure I was at that point yet, but the option would be there if I needed it.

When I was finished with the interview, Chief Hanlon told me the Aurors had been on site investigating the area and found a whole collection of papers Alex had written. I nodded while pulling Alex's journal out of my bag to give to her.

"Chief Hanlon, I want those papers returned when the investigation is finished. I know where they need to go."

Oo0Oo0

May 4, 1998

The days that followed the overtaking of the Ministry were focused on preserving information and locating those people who could be trusted and who had the combat ability to join the Law Enforcement office or be moved temporarily into the Auror Department from other areas. Other efforts were made towards courtroom arrangements, finding reliable judges and policy writers while Elihu and the MACUSA Embassy stationed a couple of their Aurors and volunteers to guard the prison from the dementors who wanted to return while offering medical aid those prisoners who were too sick to leave the prison. MACUSA's job was to help clean up the prison, it was purely an act of goodwill and to keep the dementors far away from the site, hopefully a lack of despair would kill them off.

Healer Hussain had welcomed Valencia to the MACUSA Embassy Healers Ward, where she had been ordered to rest. I was told by Cassandra that Valencia had lost weight in Azkaban and, while clearly traumatized, would have been far worse if the all of the Dementors had come home to roost instead of just the few that remained for easy feeding. Elihu returned to her side in the healing quarters at every opportunity and there was a kind of sweetness to the matter that I understood to be deeply private.

In any case, I had other things to consume my attention during those days.

Shacklebolt had sent me a letter, offering me a chance to return to my old position in the Minister's Office, stating I had proven myself trustworthy and had knowledge of what had occurred in the upper sections of the Ministry during that time. The letter also arrived with a letter for an enquiry hearing. I wrote back the I would consider it, but I was grieving a death in the family and was, unfortunately, unavailable until the final affairs were handled. I was not sure how this was handled in the office, but I was informed that I would be required to come to the Ministry, employee or not, by the first week of April. Should I not arrive by that time, I would have to answer to the Ministry with less generous terms.

Threats aside, it was enough time to restart my life.

And deal with the mess of my newly reshaped world.

That newly shaped world was forming itself inside the home of my brother's wife.

Thalia's home was still a cozy place, there was the feint aroma of brewing potions and the quiet noise of Todd Shaw brewing something in the kitchen. Thalia guiding him from the living room purely by smell.

Elihu looked slightly uncomfortable at being in the home of the new pack leader for the British Werewolves. Thalia had successfully rallied the pack under her leadership after the Battle of Hogwarts – guiding them with a promise for a better future where they could live in peace. They were as tired of fighting as the rest of us and contacting Thalia had been a struggle, there was some news that could only be delivered in person.

The three of us were sitting in a companionable silence as we sipped at the offered coffee. I was doing my best to avoid looking at the framed wedding picture of Thalia and Alex in the center of the fireplace mantle. Staring at it put a gaping hole in my chest.

Telling Thalia about the circumstances of Alex's death was as draining as I expected it to be. Thalia was stone-faced and shocked, refusing to emote as I tried to look anywhere else than be confronted with the reality and heartbreak of her loss.

"Thalia," Elihu set down his coffee mug and adjusted his glasses, he looked very much like the up-and-coming lawyer I originally met at my father's political parties. "I'll be completely honest and I'm sorry if I come across as too direct in this, I just need you to understand."

My sister-in-law nodded slowly, tucking her short blonde hair behind her ears. There was an exhaustion in Thalia, always had been, but this went beyond physical. Despite her victory in taking leadership of the werewolves, Thalia was drained by Alex's death and all that came with it.

"MACUSA does not recognize the rights of werewolves in any capacity, no healthcare, designated communities... marriages. Unfortunately, that carries over to marriage between MACUSA citizens and foreign werewolves. There was a precedent set in the 1920's, fascinating story, I'm happy to pass that to you for perusal."

By the Twelve, Elihu!

"That sounds interesting, might help me start the fight here." There was no tone of surprise in Thalia's voice, an accepting monotone of grief that tore my heart in two.

"Also," Elihu continued, "MACUSA has yet to recognize nonmagical marriages without exception."

"Alex told me all of this before we got married and again before he ran off. I understood it then and I understand it now." There was a ferocity in Thalia, a wolfish sense of purpose. I noticed that she adjusted her hands to display her wedding ring. "Your government may not recognize it, but we did and it was enough for us, even if it's not legally binding. I chose to live in hope that Alex would return and we would remain here until the end of our lives, now I have to rescind all of the control because of what I am!" The energy returned to Thalia's eyes as she looked between Elihu and I. "Audrey is the only Graves here; his sister! Under your law she gets to make the decision about what happens to his remains and where they go!"

I looked down at my folded hands and tried to stay calm. Thalia was completely correct. She had no rights, I had all of them.

"Yes. I'm sorry, but this is not a law Jack Graves will change out of personal connection." Elihu's voice was calm and polite, there was empathy for Thalia's loss laced with his words. "It will destabilize his own base and opens the door for more malicious politicians to take the reins. Stepping forward puts you and everything you are building with the werewolves in this country under scrutiny – you are being given a chance at a private life where you can come forward about this in your own time when things are stable."

Thalia's fists unclenched and the kitchen was silent, I did not have to see Todd to know he was listening.

"Thalia, my doors at the embassy are never closed, if there is anything you need –"

"I need nothing from MACUSA, you've made that perfectly clear Representative."

Elihu courteously inclined his head, setting his finished coffee aside and rising to his feet. "I'll leave you two alone than. Thank you for your time today, Mrs. Graves. Audrey."

Thalia rolled her eyes and waved him away towards the door. I gave Elihu a tired smiled as he put on his cloak and stepped out the door.

The two of us sat in silence. I finished my coffee and allowed my fingers to trace the rim of the mug.

"So..." Thalia's voice was quiet and slow. "What are you going to do with him?"

"...I told my father I would bring him home."

Thalia nodded, setting her tea aside and leaning back in her chair in a fashion that reminded me of a much older woman.

"As is your right."

Oo0Oo0

May 7, 1998

Quincy was not the worst company on long trips. He was pleasant and engaging, always looking at things and making silly comments to try and ease the mood. He was a lot like his father, Uncle John was just as pleasant and personable as his son – in Quincy's case, the slight aura of excited puppy did wonders to hide how observantly he looked around every room and checked each person who walked past us in the portkey station while I clutched the urn to my chest like a lifeline.

I forgot how busy New York was.

The sensation of Quincy's hand on my upper back pushed me forward into the crowd of people, speaking with the variety of accents that designated the fast, harsh tones of a New York native with the softer afflictions of the Midwest tourists. If America was the melting pot of the world, then New York was America's centrepiece, a tower of babel. Here was where my government sat, here was where wizardkind made their decisions on how to interact with each other and the rest of the world.

We moved down the blocks that would take us to the Woolworth building where we had our government. While most of our government dealings were underground, we had several important offices on the top floors of the building, we had surrendered the lobby long ago for No-Maj use to help prevent the destruction of the facility.

My father's office was at the top of the building, near the Pentagram Office.

I clutched the stone urn tighter.

My cousin and I instinctively blended ourselves with the crowd. The Woolworth Building had long since been overcome by taller buildings, but it was still imposing, gothic, and attention grabbing. We slipped away from the crowd of No-Majs going inside to tour the facility and took a more private entrance off to the side. After ten in the morning, the rule was to use this side entrance to avoid the No-Maj tour groups to the nonmagical part of the building. There had long been talk of moving the beating heart of MACUSA somewhere else, but it would take something dramatic to make that happen, but for now Quincy and I slipped through a door only visible to wix and guarded by a single young Auror who quickly checked our wands and tried to see the inside of the urn before I snapped at him – leveraging our presidential connections that had been proven through the identification of our wands. The junior Auror backed off and waved us through.

We found ourselves in the MACUSA lobby, all warm golden marble with colorful, moving mosaics on the ceiling, depicting random flower designs in a sea green and gold, others showing famous locations in the wider part of the country with the state of origin beneath. Waterfalls and rolling golden plains, high snow-covered mountains in the west and the thick wintery forests. A viewing of a wider America for visitors, and a quiet reminder that we were used to all kinds of harsh conditions.

The arches on the building were high and removed most of the sensation of claustrophobia from the bustling crowd below. This was a sea of people I did not recognize who were hurrying to and from the elevators and jostling Quincy and I around. I clutched the stone urn tighter and Quincy put an arm over my shoulders to guide me towards a recently emptied elevator, decorated in black and gold in a timeless sort of way.

The ride up was quiet. Just the two of us alone in this quiet space.

"Do you... know what you're going say?"

I shrugged, "Yes? I think. I've kept my word and I think that's the bigger thing."

"Your word has never been doubted."

I had no answer for Quincy that was not needlessly snippy and hurtful for things he had no part in.

We stepped off the elevator and into the Remembrance Hall, all white marble with the carefully written names of fallen Aurors along the wall, surrounding a white fountain that depicted the Twelve Aurors. I could see the white statue of Gondulphus Graves, who was the youngest of the Twelve and died at some point in his late middle-age, leaving behind a legacy of duty for his descendants to grapple with. The white stone benches at the base of the fountain were filled with Senator aides who were taking a working lunch. I had been one of them once, when I was a different woman... No. I was a girl than. I was a kid who was optimistic, depressed and lost in ways I did not realize until Britain began to fall while I was inside of its heart. I found myself in that chaos. I found the woman I was going to be and I think I liked her very much.

Yes. I recognized the girl I was three years ago, but she had become someone stronger when the world began to fall apart around her.

The stone eyes of the Twelve Aurors seemed to follow me as we passed through the hall towards the Senate Chamber. The flock of formally attired Senators in black robes were gathered at different sections of the hall outside of office doors, whispering and joking with one another. I knew there was political chatter enshrouded within such matters, but I was also understanding that perhaps more than grief had encouraged Elihu to leave office. I believed he had found more personal success outside of the MACUSA Senate, there was a lot of freedom in diplomacy despite Elihu's complaints, he had done a lot of good work without the constraints of office around him.

Perhaps we always end up on the right path in life eventually?

I needed to focus – I was here for a grim task and looking for any distraction.

Quincy and I left the Senate Wing, the walk through the adjoining corridor seemed longer than it had the last time I was here. It was a nice hallway, carefully mosaics of American political events within the Representative and Senatorial Wing meetings. There was Governor Rochdale of Kentucky from the 1858 proclaiming that all men deserved to be free from oppression, no matter the color of their skin or the magic in their bones. Senator Allen of Minnesota almost a hundred years later beginning the arguments to repeal Rappaport's Law. The mosaics were crafted from memories of the historic events, so the speakers always looked heroic and stately – these were chosen for their historical and political impact.

I stopped for a moment when I saw one of Jack Graves, proclaiming there would not be a parselmouth registry in this country as he stood in front of a crowd of onlookers who did not see people like me as human. He looked younger, his hair a defined shade of gray this must have been during his term in the Senate. I clutched the urn closer to my chest. Jack Graves had always been consistent in his opinions – it was a real selling point for his presidential campaign – even if those things were out of step with the general public as Voldemort continued to rise to power overseas post-election. His stance on parselmouths had earned him some ire from the public, the lustre of a new president wearing off in that moment.

I was grateful for it. While there were always moments where I wondered about Jack Graves motives in life – he was never going to throw me under the carriage that way. Be it an act of love, political preservation or even both. My secret was safe and would remain so until all of this blew over with the prospect of peace and a return to the domestic issues of Magical America.

The Representative Wing showed different state landmarks along the wall around the door to each state representatives office units. The outline of an individual state was on the respective door showing flashes of unique landmarks and cities. A celebration of their own uniqueness in the larger tapestry of the fifty-state union.

There was another lift at the end of the wing that would take the pair of us up to the Presidential offices.

My heart thudded in my chest as Quincy and I gave our wands over to the Auror Guard for inspection. He also wanted to check inside the urn but Quincy promptly shoved the papers from the Portkey Station in his face, stating that these were human remains and activated the charms to show that the urn was still sealed the way it had been at the airport. The fellow at the crematorium had too many coming through the system to do a good job at these transportation spells, so I just told him I would get them redone at the Portkey Station.

The two of us were allowed into the elevator and my stomach continued to find new ways to contort itself.

"My offer to go in with you still stands – you're free to change your mind."

"Thank you, Quincy, but I need to do this alone." I gave him a tight smile. "It'll be alright."

Quincy nodded, "I'll go check in with the Head Auror as planned than, I need to give him that message from Chief Hanlon."

The doors folded open, leaving us both in an opulent space with a thick glass floor beneath us. The glass floor was really just for show and to make more jumpy international guests more nervous. The floor was too thick to break, I remembered that it was over a foot thick and had no real risk of breaking, even without magic. At the other end of this wide hallway was a set of large, dark oak doors, off to the side was another set of large oak doors that led to the Pentagram Office – I would not be going there today. Quincy squeezed my shoulder and took off for one of the smaller doors to the side of the room where I could hear the quiet murmur of voices.

I took a deep breath and began my walk over the glass floor to the large oak doors where the Presidential Office was. I glanced out a nearby window to see the cityscape of New York and never felt so far from home before.

I knocked on the door, the echo and tap of the wood barely audible from the size of the door and the room beyond.

The door swung into the office of its own accord and I stepped inside the waiting area.

It was a pretty office. Opulent in the way the Minister's Office was not. Plush carpets that were gifts from Saudi Arabia after a trade deal was established a few years ago, were laid out around the room. A small rough looking rug was in front of the fireplace, another, softer, one was in front of the door where I could hear my father's booming voice. The largest and softest was laid out in the center of the room between two cream couches beneath a small, oak table. The wallpaper was a lively, dark red that offset the room nicely.

I ambled over towards a bookshelf where some books and record documentation from meeting held in the office were held. The spellwork kept me from touching the more confidential information, but it did allow me to pull down a book on European politics from the start of the century. I adjusted my grip on the urn while reading the inside cover and contents page, admiring the subcategories of chapters and topics that divided the time before the European theatre of global conflict. I might have to pick up a copy myself when I got back to Britain.

Focus, Audrey. Don't get distracted.

The door to the president's office opened and Chad Wester - or was it Thad? - opened the door. We made eye contact – a young, up and coming official in nice dress robes and me, some nicely dressed, but exhausted looking creature holding a stone urn.

I must look unhinged.

Chad stepped aside, holding the door open for me to walk into the room. I don't think he recognized me. If he did, he was uncertain enough in my current standing to not be bothered – but he was courteous about the matter. Perhaps it would be too awkward to say anything to a woman holding a stone box?

I never looked at the presidential office before. Vanessa had come in to decorate apparently, I recognized one of the ugly vases from the Byrgen House, filled with seasonal flowers, offsetting the boar handle tusks on the side and misaligned paint job. I could not imagine what Jack told people about the vase – probably a conversation piece or one of his little tricks to discern honesty with the added bonus for Vanessa of getting this one out of the house.

On the walls were the portraits of previous presidents, including Astrid Cunningham, the preceding president. She wore her robes of state like the other presidents did. Her graying hair was short and boyish in the style older women politicians seemed to prefer. She was looking at me with an easy smile and a barely restrained curiosity. I focused on the other parts of the room. Cream carpets, marble busts of important dead political leaders I could not instantly recognize because of the swirling sea of nerves in my guts.

I looked, finally, at the center of the room.

There were three men standing in front of the presidential desk, hiding me from view and ignoring me as they were too engrossed in their conversation. My father's voice broke through to remind them about the ongoing risks at home, even if the war if Britain had not lasted long enough to MACUSA intervention, we had still learned a lot about how quickly we could mobilize if needed.

I expected they knew I was coming; the guard would have reported it to the office, I don't think they expected me to be in the room. I did come inside in a rather sneaky manner.

There was a moment where I grappled with waiting where I was, listening to matters of state while caressing this cold, heavy stone urn while the presidential portraits pretended to be asleep while watching this out of a single barely opened eye to see what would happen.

I was not the little girl who sat quietly anymore. I was let in here and I had a more immediate mission on hand.

I steeled my spine and stepped forward towards my father's desk. I shifted slightly to the side, approaching the desk at an angle.

"Mr. Graves," My voice cut through the chatter as I took the final step to the president's desk. I placed the urn down with a resounding clunk. "I've brought your son home."

Then came the stunned silence.

The conversation of politics and management of war resources was silenced as the cost of it was put on the desk before them.

I could feel their eyes on me and the urn. I shifted and focused my attention on my father.

Jack Graves stared at the stone container before him. I picked a nice one, it was vase shaped with some beautiful carvings of quills with a custom topper to indicate Alex's patronus – a very American tradition that I had to explain to the crematorium in London.

Finally, Jack raised his hand, a barely noticeable tremble in it. "Could I have a few moments with my daughter?"

A chorus of "Yes sirs," filled my ears as the three aides filed out the door as quickly as they could to avoid this awkwardness, leaving my father and I alone with each other for the first time in over a year.

There was a pregnant pause from Jack, a silence that overtook the room for a moment as he gazed at the urn I had so brazenly placed on his desk.

"This is a hell of a way to tell me!"

"Elihu sent a letter."

"I read my personals in the afternoon."

Jack Graves was on feet, covering the distance between us and suddenly I was pulled into a hug. He had that distinct smell of parchment and turned earth that reminded me of home. I was too shocked to hug him back, my arms just hung uselessly at my sides. Mercy, this was tight!

When I was released, my father had moved back to his desk – sitting back down in his chair as if his legs could not hold him up any longer.

"Tell me everything."

With those words, we went to a comfortable place of business and politics. I told him everything I could. Starting with Alex's career as a freelance journalist, moving all over Europe to chase stories and integrate himself with extremist groups to understand how they worked and attained power. His quest for understanding leading him to the outer fringes of the British Death Eaters, that he disappeared into the organization and found himself working against Voldemort through his intelligence gathering – trying to put the pieces in place for the world after the war ended.

I elected not to mention how deeply he had fallen into the organization, believing in it's causes himself. That was for me alone, I could not taint Alex's memory that way right now. I did not mention Alex's marriage, I did not mention Thalia at all. If Jack remembered me mentioning Alex had a girlfriend during our last meeting – he did not ask about her. I doubted he remembered that at all or thought that any sensible woman would not put up with the sheer extent of Alex's career nonsense.

Then, because this story needed closure, I then spoke of how Alex was killed by our cousin, Harrow Avery. Betrayed by someone he thought was an ally, poisoned and buried alive under the floor of his safehouse until death came to claim him.

There was no need to mention the wraith, how it followed me still, despite the days of silence since Harrow's arrest. I was not sure I would be able to speak of it, attempts to speak of the wraith aloud, even alone in a room tied my tongue and left me gasping for air. The remnants of my brother's rage held fast to the world and had a stranglehold on my soul.

My father rose once more from his seat, my story having come to a perceptible end. He put his hands behind his back and stared out the large window behind his desk, looking outwards to the tall buildings that defined New York. He appeared every part the contemplative president.

When he spoke at last, his was voice tight with grief and barely contained rage. "Where is Avery now?"

"Awaiting trial in England." I spoke slowly, tired from the relying of information and the trip and the emotional shock of being in my father's presence again. "He's one of many who committed terrible crimes in the last two years." I took a deep breath, "Killing Alex was probably the least heinous."

I would never tell my father about how Harrow wore Alex's face while trying to assault me. Somethings were too personal to say to a man who had all the power in the world – I did not want him to crusade for me. I would not be able to bear the weight of his hypocrisy in his care for me, while knowing he defended the senator who drugged and raped Valencia all those years ago.

Jack Graves continued to stare out the window, his shoulders tense and thoughtful while I focused my attention to the paintings of past presidents who were watching the scene with interest while they continued to try and pretend to be asleep. News of my brother's death would be all over the country within the next couple of days.

"Will…" Jack's voice trailed off for a moment. He coughed twice to collect himself before trying again. "Will you be staying here or going back to the Britain?"

My gaze was drawn to the city skyline outside the window. New York was truly the greatest city on earth, so many buildings and more people then could reasonably be counted, the world's greatest skyline built by industry and the belief that people in America could be anything or anyone they wanted to be with the right opportunity and the courage to grab it. My life was not here, it would never be here again. It was not my home anymore.

"Back to England, I've built a life there."

Besides, I need to fix things with my boyfriend.

Jack Graves nodded. "We'll arrange the funeral and inter him in the family crypt. Privately. Before the press get wind of the date and time."

I nodded. I told my father that my plan was to hide in a local hotel for a couple of days, or with Quincy's family in New Orleans until the funeral and leave immediately afterwards.

"Absolutely not!" Jack snapped, his voice tight and terrible. It was like watching a string be pulled taunt, the strings were beginning to come apart from the constant force until it finally snapped with a barely audible noise.

And Jack Graves, well, Jack Graves began to cry.

In a way, after that display of emotion, it should not have surprised me that Jack, a man reaching for control wherever he could find it in the moment, told me that I would staying at the Byrgen House and he would broker no argument on the matter.

After watching one's father shed tears, it makes one inclined to do whatever he wants.

Jack sent word to the appropriate people and we left through a private portkey that dropped us at the gates of the Brygen House. I felt awkward coming home, I was clutching the urn like a lifeline. Jack had thrown an arm over my shoulder, half dragging me up the path as I contemplated leaving entirely.

This was a walk I never expected to take again.

The door swung open to familiar scenes that I could not take in fully because the sight of Vanessa's shocked swung fully into my vision.

Then the realization fell over me. Vanessa did not frighten me; she no longer had any real power over me. She and I would never be bosom friends, but I was going to be a better sibling than Alex. We were going to walk a very fine line and perhaps someday have a genuine tolerance and respect for one another – I would do that much to be in her children's lives.

I knew there were worse monsters in the world than Vanessa, particularly in a world that still had Umbridge wandering around it.

Jack let me go and the two of them disappeared into the dining room to talk in private, but they were not in the room before Jack's voice broke through the stunned silence of the home.

"He's dead! They murdered my boy!"

I could hear a noise on the staircase – that was a habit I knew well.

I glanced up to see Annette with Aldridge a few steps behind. Annie favored her mother, a slim build with an oval face, she has Vanessa's green eyes, but the dark hue of her brown hair comes from our father. There is a quirk to her mouth that I have seen in Jack and I. She really looked like a girl in her early teens with her slightly ruddy complexion of small zits on her forehead and her chin.

Annie bounded down the last three steps in a single leap and threw her arms around me, almost hitting her head on the stone urn in my arms.

Aldridge was watching me wearily from the stairs with wide brown eyes that looked like our father's. His hair is no longer the downy, white blond I remembered from two years ago, it had darkened to a proper deep blond that looked like corn. He had only turned four at the end of December – I had been gone for half of his life.

"Al! Come see Audie!"

Aldridge shook his head shyly and moved a up a few steps, just out of my sight.

"I missed you!"

"I-I missed you too!" My voiced hitched as I adjusted my grip on the urn to hold Annie as tightly as she held me.

I spent the night in my old bedroom, which was surprisingly unchanged from the night I had left. Neatened and tidied, perhaps by Tinsy before she had departed to follow after me. I felt like an interloper. This was no longer my home in the ways that mattered. I was a visitor with privileges.

Jack moved quickly to arrange a service, getting in touch with cousin Martin and sending word out to the family. If we wanted a private service, we needed to move quickly and quietly.

The family was experienced in this procedure.

Graves family funerals were a frequent affair, we had this habit of dying in battle defending the country in some form or another, and the funerals were sometimes more like family reunions. In my case it very much was one. The family was very large, but my particular branch was quite small, inviting extended cousins helped fill the pews and could add elements of joy to a grim occasion. In my life, I had attended more funerals than weddings and the comfort of the Graves family ritual was something I was long accustomed too.

Aunt Araminta had pulled Quincy and I into a shared hug so quickly she knocked our heads together in the process. She ignored our pained noises at the bonking and was kissing our cheeks affectionately while Quincy groaned at his mother's affections. He managed to escape his mother only to be ambushed by his father and sister simultaneously, much to his beleaguered, playful complaints.

The rest of the family were scattered around the family graveyard, some taking an opportunity to visit relatives. I could see my grandfather Atticus at Ophelia's grave with his twin sister, Armista, the three of them had served in the war together and had been close since then. Cousin Benedict had arrived with Armista, his adoptive mother, carrying some papers he was making notations on as he walked through the graves. He may have been working on a family tree or cleaning up the notary for which members of the family were interred on the site. His wife, Wilhelmina, was with him along with his daughter, my cousin Audrina. Benedict's biological parents were members of the extended family and Armista stepped in to raise him when they passed away. I looked away from Audrina, it felt awkward seeing her in person after borrowing her face during the war. I felt like I needed to apologize for that.

Other cousins, the younger ones, had scattered themselves out to get away from the grief and boredom offered by the older generation. Some avoided the graves entirely, a childish weariness of death keeping them from the interred dead. Others ran freely among the garden of stones, too young to see anything more than a place to run. The rest walked quietly, taking large steps over the places marked by the headstones, stepping over the place where the coffins were beneath the earth.

The dark clouds gathered overhead as my Uncle John pulled me into a very tight hug as he released Quincy, telling me that he was proud of me and he was so happy I was safe. Zara hugged me in turn, the smell of her perfume overwhelming me for a moment.

I managed to break away after the warm pleasantries that made me feel like I had never been gone only to find myself facing my grandfather.

Atticus Graves was an old man with stark white hair like his eldest son, he still, surprisingly, had a full head of it. He was tanned from his retirement years in Florida and the regular beach walks that accompanied the retiree lifestyle. Atticus had the distinct pleasure in life of still having the ability to be active in retirement, working cold cases with other retired law enforcement officials and crime enthusiastic volunteers. His large glasses helped hide a generally fierce expression in his eyes, but helped provide him an aura of trust and intelligence that went along with his general reputation in the magical community.

My grandfather examined me closely, "Quincy tells me you fought Voldemort."

I gave only a bare, slight nod of acknowledgement.

The smile he gave me was proud, I was so used to the barely masked disappointment after the duelling lessons with my cousins I was almost too stunned to speak.

Grandpa Atticus spoke with a tone of resigned pride. "Well, a Graves always does their duty. I take it you showed the British how to actually fight so we don't have to keep coming to bail them out?"

I did not do that for the Graves family name, I did it to survive and have a life afterwards where I never need to take up arms like that again.

"I'm sure you at least showed them how slack they are at least."

Why are all the men in my family like this? Getting home to Percy was going to be a soothing balm on my nerves.

I was being baited to prove myself, to state why I had done it. A Graves of mediocre talent who would offer more to the family by my marriage and the hope my children would have the talent so prized my lack of it was a disappointment. I refused to rise up to take what was dangled before me.

I was saved from having to formulate a response a sudden call for all of us to take our seats.

My cousin Martin, the owner and founder of the funeral company Graves by Graves, appeared to be handling the service. I thought he had handed over most of the actual funeral work to his son Walter, I guess he was doing this as a favor to my father. He was about a hundred and twelve and doing better than the rest of his generation, who were dead and buried, there was clearly something in deciding to choose business ownership over the family business of Aurorship. Getting the qualifications to hold funeral services was really just an extra layer of business security.

There was a quiet, orderly movement to the chairs that had been placed in front of the columbarium, where the ashes would be interred.

The urn sat in a place of prominence before the pulpit, on a table draped in black cloth. It seemed to loom over the space as I walked up the aisle to sit next to my father, who was sitting tall and tense, almost in disbelief of being here for this.

A silence fell over the gathered crowd as Martin raised a single hand at the podium behind the table where the ashes were.

"Welcome. Hello to you all. For those who do not know me, I am Martin Graves. On behalf of my cousin Jack and his family, I welcome all of you gathered today to remember the life of Alexander. Your presence today is an affirmation of love and support to the family in their time of grief."

Aldridge was kicking his feet back and forth at Vanessa held him in her lap to keep him from running off. It struck me once more that he would never know his brother. There was no point in Aldridge's short life where the two of them were together. There would be no full portraits of the four Graves children.

"Alex was, by all accounts, a uniquely gifted wizard. A top student at Ilvermorny and Captain of the Ilvermorny Dueling Club. He had all the skill he would need for a long career as an Auror, to go face to face with the Dark Arts, but Alex felt compelled to fight for justice another way. He became a journalist despite all the disappointed moans of the family." Martin smiled, "A sound I know very well."

This earned a few, quiet chortles through the assembled crowd.

Vanessa was reaching out to hold my father's hand, I could see her squeezing it tightly his he held hers.

"Alex was struck down in the prime of his life in the act of doing what he loved." Martin continued, his voice soft, kind and loud enough to hold the attention of the attendees. "He chose a life where he could inform the world of political upheavals and the dissident organizations who sought to upend the peaceful order of the world. For you see, Alex crafted his life into a story, for a young man whose was not quite thirty, he lived a lot of life in almost three decades, more than what many of us will accomplish in twice that time."

Annette's attention was pulled towards the spectral spirits that wandered the graveyard. She would never know Alex, she probably had very few, if any memories of him. To her, she was the middle child to my eldest and there was no one above me in the pecking order of sibling warfare.

I had the sudden impression that Annette would have greatly enjoyed the company of Alex's wraith, seeing him as more of a science experiment then the terrifying force of primeval magic that I treated him as, but the wraith was a horror I would wish on nobody.

"Despite all impressions, Alex lived up to the ideals his family values so highly. A life of public service and devotion to cause."

Martin continued on, speaking of the memories people had of Alex – how he spent summers wandering the woods on family vacations, his late teenage years wandering around New Orleans, exploring all the tourist traps and more time off the beaten track of the city. That Uncle John had to go look for him once and found his talking to several drunk old me who were teaching him how to play Snap Bite, a gamblers card game. This made the crowd laugh.

Alex was too complicated. Too messy to sum up in kind, if true, platitudes of his life.

Martin continued on, speaking of the impact of Alex's life on those who knew him and those who only read his work – the kind of legacy that goes on long after death. Suddenly, I understood what I needed to do to fill the void and honor my brother. Thalia and I would have to go through everything my brother had left behind, we were both convinced there were a lot of things Alex had written that had not been published and it may put together the final pieces of him as a person – when she was ready to put for the truth of him, we could publish what we had put together over Alex's decade of work.

Yes... That would honor his legacy.

"Now," Martin's voice cut through my thoughts. "I welcome his family to step forward and join me in interring the ashes of Alexander Theodore in the columbarium."

The doors behind martin swung open with a flick of his wand and I rose with my family in the front row to step towards the urn. My father picked it up with shaking hands, holding it tightly as if he were scared to drop it. The sort of quiet display of emotion the only one who knew Jack would understand how unusually that was for him, a man of dignified, but cunning and occasionally bombastic temper. The silence of Jack Graves was more unsettling than the temper he showed the night I had left home.

Martin led us inside the columbarium, the inside was lit with a low light that turned the white marble of the interior a soft yellow as if it were lit with candles. The walls were filled with small niches containing the urns of various Graves relatives who had elected to not be buried, but stored in their own niche within the structure. Annie was looking around with an awestruck sort of expression. Aldridge was looking around the room with the kind of wide-eyed horror only a child can muster as he buried his face in Vanessa's skirts with a whimper.

Annie and I looked at a set of stairs that led down into a large crypt below, I knew that was the mausoleum proper, where large marble coffins were stored. I had not been down there since the last funeral I attended for an elderly cousin of mine.

Martin gestured to the selected niche in the wall. It was next to my mother's urn and I had to look away as my father placed, muttering words I could not hear as he did so. Martin inscribed the gold plaque below with a spell.

Alexander Theodore Graves

February 22, 1969 – March 1, 1998

"War never takes a wicked man by chance, the good man always" - Sophocles

We stared at it in silence, Annie pressed against my side as Vanessa held Aldridge's hand.

The MACUSA Aurors who examined Alex's corpse had managed to give an estimated date of death through examining the remains and conducting early interviews with Harrow Avery to create a timeline. The date of Alex's death still felt like an estimate, but it was a reasonable one that matched with what we found.

I did not know how long we were in the space, contemplating the life and death of my brother, but when Aldridge started crying it seemed like the cue to leave the dead to their rest.

Vanessa kissed and coddled the boy as they left, reaching out to tug the back of Annie's robe collar when she stopped to look at a peculiar looking urn with a quiet oh noise. The three of them left the columbarium. Jack stepped forward, stopping to look back at the urn with a hard, mournful expression.

I followed Jack out of the columbarium.

The people who had attended the service were milling over towards some nearby shack where receptions were held. The sky was turning a dark gray to warn at an incoming storm. I could see the figures of Vanessa and her children mixing in with the crowd retreating from the sudden change in weather.

I winced as Martin closed the massive door behind us. He stopped to say a few words of kindness to my father and I before going down the steps to the join the rest of the family.

I was alone with my father.

"I'm sorry."

I looked up at Jack, he was pale near lunar contrast to the dark storm clouds brewing above us. As the world around us darkened, his bright silver hair shown like the moon before the final glimmers of light disappeared. When he looked down at me, he seemed both older and younger than his years. I guess that's what burying a child does to a parent. It was an unnatural occurrence in the world.

"I was not a good father to you… or Alex. My ambitions clouded every aspect of my life and you were both right to leave."

I gripped my robes in shock, my knuckles turning white from the force of my grip. The sky opened and a cold misty rain began to fall.

"You never should have felt that you had to prove yourself. I should have proven myself to be the father you deserved." His voice was steady, as if he had clearly decided what he was going to say, but I detected no sense of rehearsal in his words. "Instead, I failed every test of that in pursuit of what I believed to be the greater good for the country and sacrificed you at the altar of the nation."

The rain began to fall in earnest, the two of us were dry under the overhang of the columbaria.

"I don't say I love you enough, but please know that I do love you... If you want to forgive me, I'll be in your life as long as you want me there."

I let the noise of the rain exist for a moment, taking in the distinct scent of rain and fresh earth that accompanied it.

"I think I would like that." My voice was quiet and I took in Jack's expression to quickly masked surprise. "Can we start with coffee?"

"Next time I'm in London, we'll find a café and make it a regular thing." Jack smiled, then grimaced. "I think I'm going to be there a lot."

I giggled and hugged him quickly before the moment was lost. Jack hugged me back, squeezing me as tightly as he had in the office.

"I love you too, dad."

We let each other go and stepped out of the shelter and into the rain.

I had kept my word to my father, I had promised to bring Alex home, but America and the Graves family had ceased being my brother's home long ago. Alex had made his home in Britain and would not appreciate being locked in the Graves family columbarium for the rest of eternity. I understood that feeling well.

What I had delivered to my father and the family was fireplace ash.

Until Thalia decided she was ready to part with his remains, Alex would stay with her in the home they had built together.

Oo0Oo0

Author's Note: If you are catching allusions to gay marriage in Alex and Thalia's story arc, those are intentional. Marriage offers rights that civil partnerships do not.

I've always thought of Jack as a political conservative, but not an utter monster. Parents should not outlive their children and Jack came very close to losing both Alex and Audrey – in a lot of ways, he's had time to think and grow up on the matter, even if Audrey does not tell him everything.

Why Antigone? It's my favorite Greek Tragedy and it seemed appropriate for this chapter.

Also - this chapter is 10,000 words. No. I do not have a life.