Chapter 14
'I have Bones, and she is well, given the circumstances. I will keep her with me for a few days until I can guarantee her safety. She is still in danger for now, but it will be remedied soon. Meet me in Albus's office later this afternoon around four, and I will explain what I can.'
He'd found her.
Somehow, against all odds, Jameson had found and rescued Amelia.
Alastor could not think of a time in his life when he'd felt so relieved, and as he knocked on the door to Bones Manor, it was opened quickly, revealing an exhausted yet smiling Edgar.
"Is it true?" the man asked.
"Aye, Jameson wouldn't say he's got her if he didn't," Alastor assured him. "From what little he said, she's fine, Ed. She'll be in touch as soon as she can. You know what she's like."
Edgar nodded and gestured for Moody to enter the home.
He'd only been here a handful of times over the years.
Alastor would consider the friendship they shared amongst his closest.
When they'd first met, Amelia had been eager to prove herself, and she'd done so, becoming perhaps the most exceptional Auror in the department.
Alastor had respected her talents, her grit, and dedication to the job. Soon enough, he'd come to see her as more than just a work colleague, but a friend, a circle of people he kept exclusive.
"This Jameson, isn't he the restaurant owner?" Edgar asked, pulling Alastor from his thoughts.
He nodded.
"Restaurant owner, and now the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts," Alastor chuckled. "There's more to him than that, but mum's the word. It's best you don't mention to anyone you know him outside of being what you do know."
"I don't know him," Edgar snorted. "Amelia mentioned him once or twice, but she's very…evasive about how she knows him."
Alastor leaned back in his chair and unleashed a bark of laughter.
"I expect she is," he replied amusedly. "Well, I can't say I know him, but what I do know is he's more than earned my respect. He's a good man, Ed, and he's helped us more than I can tell you. She's safe with him, and that's all that matters."
"That's all that matters," Edgar agreed. "Drink?"
"Aye, I could use a sip," Alastor murmured gratefully as Edgar poured them both a generous measure. "And some sleep," he added.
"You and me both," Edgar said tiredly.
Looking towards the clock the man kept on his desk, Alastor realised he'd been awake for the better part of two days, and knowing now that Bones was safe, the exhaustion he was suffering from had truly set in.
(Break)
It was a sudden shiver that woke her, and Amelia gasped as she buried herself into the thick duvet she found herself under.
She took a few moments to calm her breathing, reminding herself that she was no longer a captive of the men who had kidnapped her.
No, she was not in the musty basement anymore.
Even stranger, perhaps, she found herself within the home of Harry Jameson, the enigmatic mystery of a man Amelia had failed to unravel.
Whenever she felt as though she'd made progress in understanding him, Harry seemed to change the rules of the one-sided game they were playing.
In many ways, it was frustrating, but the Auror in her was still enthralled by the idea of piecing the puzzle together.
Even more so now after what he'd done for her.
Stepping in at the pub when she'd made a poor judgement was one thing, but to go out of his way to hunt her down was another matter entirely.
Still, Amelia could not comprehend how it was she would thank him, but the smell of food cooking wafting up from the kitchen below turned her thoughts to only one thing.
She'd not been able to eat much the previous night.
Although she was still in a state of shock at what happened, she now had the where-with-all to appreciate how hungry she was.
Nonetheless, it was with something of a shamed tentativeness that she got out of bed and groaned at the sight of herself in the mirror.
Amelia looked exhausted.
The bags under her eyes were dark, her hair was in disarray, and she was dressed in a pair of Jameson's pyjamas, which were baggy and unflattering on her.
Without a wand, there was little she could about the former, but a brush had been left for her on the bedside table.
Working it through her thick locks, Amelia couldn't help but appreciate that she was now able to complete what she had always seen as a mundane task. In a way, it was both calming and therapeutic.
When she was done, she shook her head.
Her hair looked decidedly better, but there was nothing else to be done about the rest of her appearance.
Not that it mattered.
It wasn't as though Harry hadn't seen her in worse states of dress.
Knowing she couldn't avoid doing so forever, and with the smell of breakfast impossible to ignore, Amelia left the room and made her way downstairs.
Entering the kitchen, she came upon the sight of Harry reading the morning paper as he picked at some toast.
"Help yourself," he urged, gesturing to the spread of food he'd prepared. "I didn't know what you'd like, so I did some of everything."
"Toast would've been fine, but thank you," Amelia replied gratefully, taking a seat at the scrubbed table.
Harry continued to read, so she ate her fill, and when she was done, she leaned back in her chair and released a deep breath.
"Full?" he asked with a playful grin.
Amelia nodded.
"I've not had much for two days," she reminded him.
"I wasn't judging," Jameson chuckled amusedly. "Oh, before I forget."
He slid something across the table to her, and Amelia revelled in the feeling of having her wand back in her hand.
"One of the men had it in his pocket. I figured you'd want it back."
Amelia nodded, unable to find the words to show her gratitude.
"If you're ready, would you like me to show you around? You'll be here for a few days, at least," he added apologetically.
"A few days?"
"There are still some things I must do to ensure your safety moving forward. The danger hasn't passed yet."
"But last night…"
"Was just men acting on the wishes of someone else. The real threat is still out there."
"Who is it?"
Jameson's expression shifted.
"I don't know his name yet," he murmured, "but he's the reason Greyback was here in the first place, and all of this is partly my responsibility. I didn't expect what happened to you to happen after you arrested him."
Amelia shook her head.
She didn't blame Jameson for what happened.
"Is that why you came?"
"Not entirely," he answered sincerely. "I don't want your death on my conscience, of course, but I came because you needed help. Come on, I'll give you a tour of the place."
His words warmed her exponentially, and Amelia used her wand to transfigure her clothes into something more suitable as Harry led her from the kitchen.
"I expect you've had your fill of basements for the past few days," he said dryly, nodding towards a door as they made their way through the entrance hall.
For someone so seemingly complex, everything was rather mundane in comparison to the man who lived here.
It was by no means dull, and everything was of a spectacular quality, just not quite what Amelia had expected.
In truth, she didn't know what to expect, but the house was designed to be both functional and cosy, despite it being much larger than one man needed.
"We have a living room, a dining room I don't use much, and two parlours along with a bathroom, utility room, and a games room on the lower floor," Harry explained.
"A game room?"
He shrugged as he smirked.
"Maybe I'll find a hobby other than getting myself into trouble," he chuckled.
"Is that likely?"
Jameson shrugged.
"I'd like it to be," he murmured. "Anyway, there are seven bedrooms upstairs. Mine, yours, and one I use for a study. The other four are unoccupied. If you find one you prefer, you can switch. There are also two other bathrooms upstairs, along with my own en-suite. You are free to roam wherever you like, just not in my study. I have things in there that are private."
Amelia nodded her understanding, and Jameson led her out of the backdoor via the kitchen.
"Wow," she whispered as she looked across a large expanse of snowy fields.
As they walked the perimeter of the house, she realised they extended in all directions.
"You really like your privacy, don't you?" she teased.
"I do," Harry confirmed. "Can you see the wall in the distance?"
"I can," Amelia replied.
It was a tall, thick, grey wall, and in the centre of the driveway was an equally large, wrought iron gate.
"That is where the property ends," Harry explained. "You'll be safe within the boundaries."
Amelia nodded.
"Thank you, Jameson," she whispered. "I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't come."
"It's best not to dwell on that," he sighed. "I know it's not easy, but it won't help. Anyway, I have a few things to do this morning. Is there anything I can get for you?"
"Clothes would be nice, if you can manage it."
"Is that all?"
"I need to let my boss know I'll be away."
"I'm meeting Moody this afternoon," Jameson informed her. "I've already passed the message on, but I'll remind him. Don't worry, you'll be out of here before you know it," he smirked.
Before Amelia could respond, he was gone, and she returned to the house out of the cold.
He'd already lit the fireplaces for her, and she simply sat in front of the one in the living room, doing her utmost not to relive the experience she'd endured but unable to ignore it entirely.
Amelia was lucky to be alive, and for that, she had Harry Jameson to thank.
(Break)
Corbin Yaxley could only stare in disbelief at the scene they came upon. All that remained of the house was a pile of ashes, with some chunks of wood still smouldering.
What was worse, however, was the pile of bodies stacked morbidly in front of it.
Many of the men had died screaming, the pained expressions most wore speaking only of suffering in their final moments.
How this had occurred, Lord Yaxley could not fathom, but the woodland reeked of death, of blood, and violence.
The sound of a throat clearing pulled him from his thoughts, and as he turned towards his former classmate, he swallowed deeply.
Lestrange, Nott, and Montague were just as shocked as him, but Lord Voldemort, as he preferred to be addressed now, merely looked around curiously.
"I would like to know what happened," he said quietly.
It was never a good sign when he spoke so softly.
This was when he was at his angriest.
Corbin remembered the very first time he'd witnessed it for himself.
Riddle had been a third year.
For not being from an old or noble house, he was either ostracised or outright bullied during his first two years at Hogwarts, but that changed when they'd returned to Hogwarts from the summer break after their second term.
Milo Goyle, a seventh-year, had made a joke at Riddle's expense.
What followed had been brief but violent.
Riddle had cursed Goyle, along with several others who'd victimised him, and from then on, there was never any question who was very best in Slytherin.
Goyle had spent almost two weeks in the Hospital Wing recovering from his injuries, and he'd not dared tell Dippet who was responsible.
Riddle had gotten away with it when he should've been expelled.
It was strange to see the dynamic shift so quickly, even more so when Tom had revealed he was a descendant of Slytherin, proving it with a display of his parseltongue ability.
None had crossed him after that, and many had flocked to him, some of whom were present, bearing witness to the aftermath of whatever had transpired here.
"I don't know what to say," Corbin murmured. "I put every defence possible in place. She wore a tracker, and none knew of this location other than me and those I paid to take her."
Riddle hummed as he inspected the corpses before moving on to the remains of the house.
From there, he vanished into the woods and returned around ten minutes later, a frown marring his features.
"There was one man," he said thoughtfully. "He dug a tunnel outside of the defences and sent Bones away with a portkey. He then lured your men out of the house and slaughtered them. He's good," Riddle acknowledged. "He's very good."
"One man?" Corbin gasped. "One man did this?"
"A powerful wizard, and one gifted enough to cover his tracks. He left no trace of himself, cleaning everything before he left. He is a professional."
"Who could it be?" Lestrange asked.
"Just the very question I was going to propose to you," Riddle answered. "Any ideas?"
"Dumbledore?" Montague suggested.
"The fool would not do this," Riddle grumbled. "No, this is not Dumbledore's work, but someone even more dangerous. I want them found and the name provided to me. I will not tolerate any further failure."
Before any could speak, the man vanished, and the four Lords simply stared at one another, lost a how they to proceed.
"Any ideas?" Corbin asked.
Nott shook his head.
"You heard him. He left no trace," he pointed out. "How can we find someone who has left no trace?"
"Maybe he will forget about it when his mind is occupied by something else," Montague mused aloud. "We can just tell him we're looking into it if he asks."
Corbin nodded his agreement.
"I think that's for the best," he murmured. "If he's as dangerous as Riddle thinks, why risk getting ourselves killed?"
The decision seemed to be unanimous.
Corbin had not been pleased about killing an Auror in the first place.
For now, at least, it was best left to lie until the opportunity to get to Bones presented itself once more.
She could probably lead them to whomever it was who had rescued her, but with how vigilant she would be moving forward, it was difficult to say when such an opportunity would come again, after all.
(Break)
Harry despised shopping and hadn't realised exactly what doing so for Amelia would entail. He had no idea of the type of casual clothes she wore. Outside of her Auror robes, he'd only seen her wearing dresses at the restaurant.
As such, he'd faced quite a conundrum in what to purchase, so he had gotten a little of everything just to ensure there was something suitable.
With that rather arduous task behind him, he'd checked in on Thomas to see how the restaurant was faring, and as expected, the man was doing a great job being in charge.
After a brief stop at Gringotts and a few other places for additional food, he found himself walking towards Hogwarts, where he would meet with Moody in the coming moments.
He expected the man would have a plethora of questions he wanted answered, but until Harry was left in no doubt that Amelia was safe, he had very few of them to give.
It wasn't that he didn't trust Moody; on the contrary, he'd been one of the very few he'd never doubted the loyalty of; he could just never forget that the man had been compromised once before.
For an entire year, someone else had posed as the Auror, and although Harry didn't believe this was the case now, he wasn't leaving anything to chance, no matter how slim the odds were.
"Dolly Mixture," he murmured as he reached the statue of the gargoyle.
Ascending the staircase, he could already hear voices coming from within the office, and when he knocked on the door, it was immediately flung open.
Standing before him was the very man he'd been pondering, and Moody stepped aside to let him in.
Even now, having been for several months, it wasn't easy to come to terms with an Alastor Moody without the magical eye and wooden leg Harry had known him for.
"She's alright?" Moody asked.
Harry nodded.
"She's as well as can be expected," he assured him. "Only a few cuts and bruises, but it will be the emotional trauma that will take some time."
"Aye," Moody agreed. "What the hell happened, Jameson?"
Harry shook his head.
"We've not had much time to talk," he explained. "She was exhausted when I got her out of there, and I gave her some space today to start coming to terms with what she went through."
Moody nodded his understanding.
"Any idea who was behind it?"
"I have a few clues to follow up on, and when I've done that, it will be safe for her to leave. The men who took her won't be trying again."
Moody shot him a look of surprise, though he nodded his approval.
"Aye, it's better to take a permanent solution if you're in doubt."
"Exactly," Harry agreed.
"Well, thanks, Jameson," Moody said gruffly. "I hit a dead end in my investigation. I owe you one. The entire department owes you one."
Harry waved the man off.
"No, it was partly my fault this happened in the first place," he sighed. "She'll be alright, Moody. Give her time, and she'll be back to herself."
It was only then that Harry noticed the other man sitting in one of the chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk.
The headmaster was present but had remained silent.
The other man, however, had been listening intently, and there was an air of familiarity about him.
Seeing that Harry had noticed him, he stood and approached, nodding in greeting.
"Amelia has mentioned you, Mr Jameson. My name is Edgar Bones, Amelia's older brother," he introduced himself, offering his hand.
Harry accepted the proffered limb.
"It's nice to meet you, Edgar," he replied.
Edgar smiled tensely.
"My sister…"
"Is fine," Harry assured him.
Edgar nodded, but he didn't relax, and Harry could understand his plight.
"Oh, I brought these for her," Edgar declared, removing a bag from his pocket and enlarging it. "It's just some clothes and other things she'll probably want. If she complains, tell her Eliza, my wife, picked them out."
Harry dragged a hand though his hair and groaned.
"I spent the better part of three hours getting her clothes. I should've just got a message to you."
Edgar chuckled amusedly before sobering.
"Tell her we've all been worried about her," he requested. "When Alastor told us what had happened, we feared the worst."
Harry took pity on the man.
He'd never had a family to worry about if anything untoward happened to him.
The Dursleys would've likely had a party if Harry had vanished.
"Why don't you tell her yourself," he offered. "It would do her good to see you and you, Moody."
"I'd really appreciate it," Edgar sighed in relief. "Thank you, Mr Jameson."
"Harry is fine. It's been hard enough to adjust to being called professor.'
"It was much the same when people started addressing me as Lord Bones. I still don't think I'm used to that yet."
Harry hadn't considered the upheaval it must have caused for Amelia's brother, having lost their parents.
He'd had to step up at a young age and likely put the pieces of what remained of his family back together.
If Amelia was anything to go by, he'd done a fine job.
"Well, if you give me a few minutes, I just need to make some adjustments to the protections of my house and then I will send for you."
"Of course," Edgar replied gratefully. "We will wait here."
Harry nodded as he turned towards Dumbledore.
"Is there anything you will need me for, Headmaster?"
"No, no," Dumbledore said dismissively. "It has been a rather peaceful start to the holiday here. If anything changes, I will send for you, Harry. And thank you for once again showing just the kind of man I know you to be. I expect without your assistance, this could be a very different conversation."
Harry nodded before taking his leave of the office.
Things certainly had not gone as intended since he'd arrived here.
"So much for living in peace," he snorted to himself.
(Break)
There was something calming and comforting about being in Harry's home.
Amelia couldn't quite put her finger on it, but everything just felt so serene and far away from the stresses of everyday life.
Since he'd left this morning, she'd spent much of the day in front of the fire simply enjoying her newfound freedom. It was strange to think she'd only been held for a little less than two days, and yet, it had felt much longer.
Not wanting to dwell on it so much, she'd watched the sunset from the patio and had enjoyed the sight of the stars in the night sky.
The constellations were so easy to see from here, and only the sounds of the wildlife interrupted her.
Jameson, it turned out, had good taste when it came to choosing somewhere to live.
Although Amelia lived in her family manor, it was still close to the centre of London, and places like the one she found herself now simply didn't exist in the metropolis.
"Harry, is that you?" she called when she heard movement in the house behind her.
Entering, she paused as she came upon Edgar and Moody in the entrance hall.
Without hesitation, her brother swept Amelia into his arms and squeezed her tightly.
"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you're okay," he whispered.
"Edgar, I can't breathe," Amelia chuckled.
He released her and offered a look of apology.
"You are okay, aren't you?"
Amelia nodded and swallowed the lump that formed in her throat.
"Thanks to Harry."
Edgar smiled as he turned towards Jameson, giving Alastor the opportunity to greet her.
"You're all in one piece," he commented.
"Just about."
Alastor nodded and gave her shoulder a squeeze.
"Aye, you're made of stern stuff, lass. I wouldn't expect anything less."
"This is a nice place," Edgar commented as he looked around. "Did you decorate this?"
Harry nodded.
"It needed some work when I bought it," he explained. "I like it. No one bothers me here."
"A man who appreciates his privacy," Edgar mused aloud. "You don't celebrate Christmas?"
"I can't say I ever enjoyed it, and with being at Hogwarts, it seemed a waste to decorate."
Edgar seemed saddened by the statement.
Christmas was sacrosanct in the Bones household.
Even after their parents had been killed, no matter how busy life was, the family always came together to celebrate Christmas. It was the one time of year that no excuses were accepted for being absent.
"Your family wasn't big on it?"
"I'm an orphan," Harry explained.
"Bloody hell talk about putting my foot in it," Edgar sighed.
"It's fine," Harry said with a smile. "I never knew my parents, not really."
Edgar nodded.
"Well, I would like to invite you to share Christmas with us. It is the least we can do after everything you've done for us. It will just be me, my wife, Amelia, and Chris. You teach him. He speaks highly of you."
"I do," Harry confirmed. "He's quite the talented wizard."
Edgar beamed at the assessment.
"So, what do you say, Harry, will you join us?"
Harry shook his head.
"I wouldn't intrude on your celebration."
"Nonsense," Edgar said dismissively. "It would be an honour to host you, wouldn't it, Amelia?"
She nodded.
"It would."
Jameson seemed to ponder it for a moment before nodding his agreement.
"Then it would be rude of me to refuse."
"It would," Edgar said with a grin. "How long do you think you'll need to keep her?" he added, gesturing towards Amelia.
"I'll have her home in a few days," Harry assured him.
"Could you make it a week?" Edgar chuckled.
Amelia glared at her brother and Jameson as they laughed, and her brother held up a placating hand.
"I was joking," he defended.
Amelia hummed and slid her wand back up her sleeve.
"Here," Edgar offered, handing her a bag. "Eliza packed it for you."
"Thank Merlin," Amelia sighed appreciatively. "No offense, but living in your pyjamas isn't exactly ideal," she said to Harry.
"I'm not complaining," he returned. "At least I'll get them back. They're my favourite pair."
"She used to steal mine," Edgar piped up.
Amelia rolled her eyes at them both.
"I gave them back. It's a little sister's prerogative to take from her brother."
"Isn't that theft? And from an Auror, too," Jameson tutted.
"She was an Auror when she took them," Edgar revealed. "And they were worn around the hems."
"You're taller than me!"
"Are they always like this?" Harry asked Moody, who nodded.
"Aye, and Auror and the Lord of a prominent family," he sighed. "You'd think they'd conduct themselves better. You don't have any siblings?"
Harry shook his head.
"You should be grateful," Edgar quipped.
Amelia narrowed her eyes at her brother, and he merely grinned in response.
"Anyway, I should get back and let Eliza know I've seen you. If you need anything else, I'm sure Harry can get a message to me."
"Thank you," Amelia said gratefully, wrapping her arms around Edgar once more.
He offered her a brilliant smile, and Alastor a simple nod.
"You can take the floo," Harry offered. "Portkeys and apparation won't work for you here."
"That's some good defences you have," Alastor praised as they made their way towards the fireplace.
Only a moment later, they vanished into the flames, and somehow, Amelia felt considerably better having seen the two men.
"Thank you for bringing them, Jameson," she said sincerely.
"You're welcome," he replied. "Hungry?"
"Starving."
"Come on, I'll make some dinner."
"I think it's my turn," Amelia replied.
"You can cook?" Jameson asked sceptically.
"Yes, I can cook."
"Good, because I bloody hate cooking," he muttered amusedly, handing her the bag he was carrying.
They entered the kitchen, and Harry took a seat at the table. Stretching his tired legs, he released a groan.
"You brought me clothes?" Amelia asked, pulling him from his thoughts.
Harry nodded.
"I wasn't expecting your brother to be with Moody when I met him," he explained. "He'd already had a bag packed for you."
Amelia began pulling them out of the bag, nodding approvingly at his choice of dresses, blouses, and casual trousers, though she frowned as she delved deeper into his selection.
"Jameson?"
"What is it?"
Amelia held up a pair of underwear she'd removed and quirked an eyebrow at him.
"Do I really come across as though I'd wear these?"
Jameson shrugged as Amelia showed him the flowery, large briefs.
"I have no idea what kind of underwear you prefer," he protested. "I've never bought underwear for anyone else, let alone you."
"I'm offended you think I wear something you'd see a grandmother in," Amelia grumbled, throwing the underwear at him. "Merlin, you think I'm a spinster already."
"It had crossed my mind," he commented amusedly.
Amelia narrowed her eyes at him.
"They weren't the only ones I got," Jameson said quickly. "Bloody hell, it was an embarrassing experience."
Amelia laughed and took pity on him, placing a cup of coffee on the table.
"I appreciate your efforts," she assured him. "I just thought you'd have a higher opinion of me. Now, these are much more like it."
Amelia grinned as Jameson choked on his drink, spitting coffee across the table.
She was holding up something more to her taste, a lacy, much smaller pair of underwear, something a young woman would choose.
"The lady in the shop had to convince me to buy those," Jameson explained hurriedly.
"Well, thank Merlin she did," Amelia replied, continuing to inspect them.
They were of an exceptional quality.
"I'll bear that in mind for next time."
"You plan on buying me more underwear?" Amelia asked.
Jameson shook his head.
"I'm too tired for this," he muttered, though he continued to smirk at her.
"Stop it," Amelia huffed.
"Stop what?"
"Imagining me in them."
Amelia turned away, chiding herself for saying what she had. It was so unlike her, and she didn't even know why she'd done it.
Maybe it was that Jameson was usually the one to make such comments, and she wanted to throw him off, or perhaps she was getting too comfortable around him.
"Well, you could just put me out of my misery and model them for me."
And there it was.
Amelia blushed at his rebuttal and turned back towards him.
He wore that stupid, victorious grin he did whenever he caught her off guard, and Amelia relaxed upon seeing it.
"Will you ever let me get the last word?"
"No," Jameson chuckled. "Where's my dinner? I'm hungry."
Amelia levelled a glare at him and shook her head.
He was probably the only person who could get away with talking to her in such a way. For some reason, he liked to tease Amelia, and he knew how to press her buttons.
Maybe one day she would get the last laugh, but that wouldn't be today.
Scowling at him occasionally, she cooked them a simple dinner of chicken, potatoes, and vegetables before serving it at the table.
They said little as they ate, and when they were done, Harry set about the task of cleaning up.
"You can cook," he declared. "If you ever get tired of being an Auror, I might consider taking you on as a housekeeper."
"A housekeeper? I'm so honoured," Amelia replied dryly. "I can think of nothing else I'd rather do than clean up after you, Jameson."
"I don't make much mess."
"No, you don't," Amelia observed. "Your home is really…"
"Peaceful?"
"Exactly."
"I like peace," Harry murmured.
Amelia nodded and watched as he finished cleaning.
It was strange to see him in such a setting and doing something so seemingly mundane.
She'd never thought of him outside of what she'd seen. To Amelia, he was a walking mystery that she wanted to figure out, but seeing him doing menial labour made her realise that he was just like every other person, mysterious, but just a man making his way through life.
"What do you do for fun?" she asked curiously.
"I don't get much time for fun these days," Jameson answered.
"What about when you were growing up?"
He frowned thoughtfully for a moment before smiling.
"I used to play Quidditch."
"What position?"
"I was a Seeker."
"Were you any good?"
Jameson shrugged.
"I know my way around a room. You?"
"I played Chaser for my house team, not that I'm bragging."
"Why did you stop?"
"I enjoyed Quidditch, but I never had any intention of turning pro," Amelia explained. "All of my focus was on becoming an Auror, and that never changed. What about you?"
"I don't know," Jameson answered. "I suppose life happened, and now I'm here."
"Saving people when they mess up."
Jameson chuckled as he shook his head.
"Still making mistakes and cleaning up after myself," he sighed. "I'm sorry that all this happened to you. I knew you'd get the media attention, but I didn't consider the kidnapping."
"You came for me," Amelia pointed out. "If you hadn't…"
"Best not dwell on that," Harry urged as a took a seat next to her.
"It's not easy," Amelia murmured.
"I know," Harry comforted, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.
It helped, and as she looked up at him, Amelia felt herself calm.
"Have you ever been in that kind of situation?"
Harry's expression darkened, and his eyes became stormy.
After a moment, he nodded.
"More than once," he murmured. "The man who murdered my parents managed to get the better of me a few times when I was a stupid kid."
"How did you escape?"
"Luck, mostly," Harry snorted. "I should be dead at least a dozen times over by now, but somehow, I survived. I choose to focus on that rather than the alternative. I learnt the hard way that focusing on the things that didn't happen doesn't help. You won't get over it, but in time, it will become a distant memory."
Amelia nodded.
"Speaking of which," Harry declared as he stood. "I don't imagine you want to be spending more time than necessary here. I have a few things to look into."
"To do with what happened to me?"
Jameson nodded.
"I'll fix it," he assured her. "I'll be late, so don't wait up."
With that, he vanished, and Amelia stared at the hand he'd been holding.
Evidently, he'd had a difficult life, and though she didn't know the ins and outs of it, the experiences he himself had endured had shaped him into who he was now.
Despite all of it, he still had a capacity for kindness, and though it seemed he wasn't as mysterious as she'd convinced herself, Amelia still found the man to be fascinatingly intriguing.
(Break)
Draining his glass, he placed it on the table and released a deep breath. The day had not gone as expected, and though the other Lords seemed relaxed after the warning Riddle had given, Corbin Yaxley did not count himself amongst them.
Riddle had always been strange at Hogwarts, and the eccentricities seemed only to have multiplied in the years since they graduated.
Having learned the man had left Britain, Corbin had been pleased and had lived his life rather blissfully.
Occasionally, he'd receive a letter, and he cordially replied, but he would never have imagined such menial correspondence would've led to what he found himself mixed up in.
Riddle and the others were talking of a full-scale ousting of the British government. Were it any other Lord, Corbin would believe it to be little more than hot air with no real intention of following through.
Riddle, however, was another matter entirely.
He was fully committed to his plan, and Lord Yaxley feared for what was to come.
With the likes of Dumbledore and Leach in positions of power, both of whom rather sympathetic towards the mudbloods, this could turn into a very ugly conflict.
Shaking his head, Corbin pushed his glass away.
"Another, Lord Yaxley?"
"No, not for me," he grumbled as he took his leave of the bar.
He'd more than drunk his fill for one evening, and his bed awaited him.
Perhaps he would wake tomorrow, and all wouldn't seem so grim.
He snorted at the thought and apparated to his home.
Whatever happened in the future would likely end in violence and bloodshed, and Corbin wanted no part of it.
Still, what choice did he have?
Riddle would inevitably find a way to convince others to side with him, and then war would ensue.
"Who's there?" Corbin demanded into the darkness, sensing something amiss in the study he'd arrived in.
Lighting the tip of his wand, he stepped forward, only for it to be torn from his hand.
Before he could comprehend what was happening, he felt something pulled tightly around his throat, and he was slammed hard to the floor.
When his blurry vision righted itself, Corbin found himself seated behind his own desk, staring at a robed figure, the features hidden beneath the black hood.
"You've been a very silly man, Corbin," a male voice chided. "Kidnapping an Auror is not the brightest move."
"I had nothing to do with that!" Corbin protested. "Who are you?"
His eyes widened as a large snake emerged from the sleeve of the man, and he hissed at it gently.
"A much worse enemy to have than Riddle," he whispered. "Much worse for you and your friends. Oh, I know all about him and what he is planning. I would urge you not to be caught up in his foolishness. Do you really think he will succeed?"
"H-how do you know?"
Corbin was in a state of shock.
None outside him, those present today, and Mulciber could possibly know anything. It wasn't possible.
Nonetheless, this man seemed to, and he was a parseltongue, just like Riddle.
Corbin could almost feel the man's smirk as he raised his wand.
"No, wait!" he pleaded.
The man paused before he laughed.
"It would be all too easy to kill you," he said amusedly. "Now, I'm going to allow you to live, but you are going to do something for me."
"What?" Corbin asked worriedly.
"The Auror, Bones, she is not to be touched."
"The Auror?" Corbin asked confusedly. "Why?"
"That is my business," the man snapped. "Do we have a deal, or are you going to give your life for Tom Riddle?"
Corbin swallowed as he nodded frantically.
"We have a deal!"
"Good," the man praised. "Now, I would urge you not to mention this meeting to anyone. I will be watching you very closely, Corbin. If you rescind on our agreement, your entire family will suffer, and your name will become nothing but a footnote in History. Do not doubt my word."
Corbin watched as the man vanished with a swish of his cloak, and though the ropes binding him to the chair loosened, he found he could not move.
He was rooted to his seat by terror, and though Riddle could elicit the same feeling within him, this had been much worse.
Why the man cared so much about a damned Auror of all things, he didn't know, but Corbin was certain he did not wish to cross that man any more than he did Tom Riddle.
"Remember, I'm watching, Corbin," a voice whispered, echoing around his study.
Corbin shuddered and poured himself a large glass of whiskey as he pondered whether he should mention the man to Riddle and the others.
Draining the glass, he decided against it.
He could only imagine the reaction of Riddle, and he did not wish to be roped into another of the man's undertakings.
They had not gone well thus far, and Corbin had no desire to hunt the man down who had so easily gotten to him within his own home.
No, he would keep it to himself, honour the agreement he'd made for now, and hope he could survive the coming storm.
It was what was best for him, after all.