Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

October 2nd, 1995

“I wish you would try a little harder to fit in,” my father leaned across the desk, his voice low but trying to be kind as I fidgeted in the chair on the other side of his desk. The room was paneled in dark wood and paneled in a style one would affiliate with the Revolutionary War. If I closed my eyes I could swear I felt the prickling judgement of history on my skin. 

I nodded to imply that I was listening while I allowed my mind to wander to the past and the list of things I would rather be doing with my time or the pile of requests on my secretarial desk. Along with the envelope from Sybil, the fund manager’s assistant, who said she was quitting and wanted me to know that I was the only unpaid intern on my father’s staff before she left. Something that did not improve my mood.

“Audrey, please do something with your hair before I make my speech to the Senate about the new trade amendments next week. It looks so…”

Say it. Just say it.

“Unkept.”

You’re getting a bald patch, right in the back, so you have no grounds to talk. 

My father, Jack Graves, is a senator for the state of New York, he’s a tall man with broad shoulders and perfectly silver hair. Jack Graves believes in three things with absolute certainty, first is that No-Majs are dangerous, therefore we must remain hidden at all costs. He believes in the absolute authority of MACUSA, its worldwide power and influence, a great superpower of the magical world. Lastly, he believes that his daughters should be seen and not heard, for they are just ornaments to build his power upon when they marry and have sons of their own. 

His constituents describe him as ‘Perfectly Presidential.’ 

If this man is elected president of MACUSA, I will do something drastic.

“And please wear some make-up, but not too much or you look like one of those,” He moved his hand as he tried to build himself up to actually say what I knew he was thinking. “Ladies of the night.”

Prostitutes, he meant, he just could not get the word out in front of his almost eighteen-year-old daughter.

I stared at him blankly. The best way to handle my father is to let him think I’m a stupid little ornament in his life.

“I don’t wear makeup, never have.”

He looked confused, like it was something girls were supposed to know intuitively. “You should get Vanessa to teach you.”

I would rather chew off my own hand. 

“I’m sure if you tried it, you would like it. The rest of the office girls wear it, it might help you fit in, give you something to talk about instead of those books you’re always reading.”

My head moved up and down in a slight nod of its own volition, I was unaware that understanding the philosophy behind modern politics while working for the government would make me an oddity. 

“Makeup would help you look more professional.”

The silence that followed was normal for conversations with my father, a man who never seemed to grasp how to talk to me like a person and not a sentient desk lamp.

“Where is that other intern, Thad Wester?”

“You mean Chad?”

“Ah, yes, that was his name, Chad,” he paused for a moment thoughtfully. “Kind of a stupid name.”

One of the few things we agree on.

“I think he went to lunch.”

“You think?”

I shrugged, “He doesn’t tell me much of anything.” 

My father stared down at me like watching Chad Wester was supposed to be my job. It was not. I got the impression that Chad -Thad- whatever his name was never shut up. Whenever father sent us off to run some errand, his preferred method of communication was asking me about something and complimenting me on my intelligence the way one would an obedient crup when I was finished. Other times he would try to explain to me how the laws in the government worked, like he was trying to prove himself a superior, cutting me off when I attempted to correct him. 

Fine, father can pay him to be dumb, because he’s not paying me at all. 

Walking into work was an act of not showing how angry I was by being overlooked, or doing three people’s work while managing my father’s calendar for the lobbyists who wanted to meet with him about bills and amendments. Chad would just talk and be lauded for it as he made new acquaintances who would help him move up in his political career. 

The awkward silence was enough to tell me that I was dismissed, my father’s attention being pulled to the reports on his desk. 

“Will that be all?”

Senator Graves looked up from his papers and made an effort to give me a warm, paternal smile as he got to his feet to get the door for me. “Yes, I believe so.”

I rose from the chair and moved it back to its original spot against the wall before adjusting the collar of my robes.  

For the last three months and I truly believed I was freed from one cage to be placed in another. Only, this cage was far smaller and more suffocating than I could have imagined. My father strong-armed me into taking this internship after Senator Weathers had to step away from politics after the sudden death of his wife. I was due to meet with him over lunch, he said he wanted to apologize for the sudden change and give me a recommendation letter for my volunteer work from last year. 

Really a very nice man, he did not deserve any of what the last year had thrown at him.

There was suddenly a hand on my shoulder, pulling me out of my thoughts as I moved to the open door. I looked up at my father, he had not hugged me since I hit puberty, him putting a hand on my shoulder was the only bit of physical affection I received as a rare treat for behaving like a houseplant.

“Can you try, please? Wear something nice, do something with your hair, Vanessa would love to help you with anything if you just ask her.” My father was suddenly pressing a small pouch of money into my hands that he seemed to pull out of nowhere. “Buy whatever you need.” He smiled at me in a dazzling, indulgent way. He gave my shoulder a final squeeze before I stepped out of the office holding a small pouch of money that I was already forming plans for.

Plans that did not involve a shopping trip.

Oo0Oo0

The Remembrance Hall is an old marble room inside of MACUSA Headquarters with the names of every Auror who fell in the line of duty in service to their country lining the wall in gold plates. Placed carefully in the center is a statue of the original twelve Aurors of MACUSA, including my ancestor Gondulphus Graves. It is a family tradition for there to be a Graves at MACUSA, specifically as an Auror every generation. It’s something that happens, becomes expected, when one of your ancestors founded the department and died in the line of duty fighting the greatest dark witch of his time. An expectation of honor and family tradition, plus the minute the name Graves is seen on the application you’re guaranteed a position. 

If Gondulphus could see us now he’d probably be sick or very proud. 

Gondulphus Graves died at the peak of his power, his statue stands shoulder to shoulder with the other eleven and he looks at the high end of middle age while some of his allies look much older or younger. I think this statue was added too as they fell in battle. None of them died truly young and only two lived to see old age, dying peacefully in retirement. 

I stooped down to clean up his nameplate with a tissue. I was going to need a pinch of Gondulphus’s courage to do what I was thinking of and even then I felt it would not be enough.  

“Audrey!” I jumped and put the tissue in my pocket as the sound of a man’s voice echoed through the room, bouncing off the golden nameplates of the fallen. It was rare my cousin Quincy was on time for anything except meals.

Quincy was tall and dark skinned with his microbraided hair pulled back in a ponytail to show off his gold earring, his pride and joy. He pulled me into a hug, talking about how he had not seen me in over two months. He was only a couple of years older than me and was finishing up his Auror training with a focus on international tracking. He smelled like dirt and sweat, as if he had just got off the training field, which he probably had.

“Hi Quincy,” I enjoyed the freedom of breathing again and gave him a slight smile. “How’s training going?”

He waved his hand dismissively, “Almost done is all I can say about it,” He looked at me with sharp eyes, “But training isn’t why you called me out here is it?”

I shook my head, feeling my ponytail sway back and forth as I did so as I handed him the letter I had received from Sybil the accountant and began to twiddle my thumbs as he looked it over carefully with the cautiousness trained into every Auror. I watched as he read the letter slowly and deliberately mouthing each word, before his eyes moved back to the top to reread it silently.

Quincy looked up at me as he finished. “I have no control over intern pay Audie, you know that. Intern’s are not guaranteed pay, it’s at the discretion of their employer.”

I nodded slowly. “I am aware of that.” My hand came to rest on the money my father had given me that was weighing heavily in my robe pocket. “I need your help with something else.”

Quincy looked around the Remembrance Hall, seeing it fill with sightseers and workers on a lunch break before putting his arm over my shoulder and pulling me towards a more secluded corner. As always, he remained the cousin with the keenest mind and best sense within a family spoiled by the success and heroics of dead men. He guided me towards a plaque with the name of another relative emblazoned upon it. My great-uncle, Percival Graves, was reportedly murdered by Grindelwald, the details about his death were very trim.

We sat down on a small bench and looked at the plaque for a moment before I found it in me to speak.

“I want to find my brother.”

“What?”

I repeated myself slowly. Quincy responded by giving me a firm look implying that I did not have to be a smartass about it before leaning back and crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“Audrey, I know Alex means a lot to you with the family of vipers you’ve got, but this is crazy.” 

Yes, it was. 

“Quincy, I have put this off long enough.” I pulled a manilla folder out of my purse filled with news articles my brother had written over the years he had been estranged from the family. My brother had started writing under our mom’s maiden name, so it had taken me a little bit of time to find him at first. The collection I had gathered featured news articles from all over Europe for an international paper called The Modernist. I pulled out the latest article about the Tri-Wizard Tournament at Hogwarts. “My brother has not written an article for this paper since the end of the tournament.” I pulled a more recent article from the back of the folder from an English paper called The Egregious Erumphent. “I think he’s finally settled down somewhere!”

It was an investigative piece my brother had written about an underground dueling ring at the start of the summer. I had not found anything more recent and was beginning to worry.

“Wow, you’re very obsessive.”

“That’s not the point. The point is if I can get to London, I could find my brother!”

He looked at me as if he were assessing me with fresh eyes. 

“I would like your help to get my paperwork together to leave the country and get a Portkey to London as soon as possible. If you don’t want to get involved, I’ll do it myself.”

People would do almost anything for a Graves, especially a more rebellious Graves.

He seemed thoughtful, “This is the most reckless thing you’ve ever done.” He smiled, “I’m kind of impressed.”

“So you’ll help me?”

Quincy nodded and suppressed a chuckle, “Your dad’ll have a stroke, it’ll be worth it for that after he voted for cutting public welfare."

Father never liked cousin Quincy or his long-term girlfriend Cassandra Barebone very much, both of whom tended to show up to protest in his office with loud music and signs when he announced his vote to his constituents to stay in their good favor. There was a more involved incident when he announced a more recent voting decision and Quincy brought some of his friends along to boo him at the speech while arranging for a couple of streakers to prevent Senator Graves’ rally photos from ending up in the paper. 

I never knew how to feel about my father, I saw him as the man who would put me on his shoulders and run around the backyard when I was very young, but I also remember him bringing my mom, Alex, and I to his political rallies to show what a good family man he was, what a kind, devoted wife he had, how handsome and accomplished his son was and how well-behaved his daughter was.

I hated the lights, and the noise of my father shouting into crowd with a Sonarous charm as his eventual constituents shouted and screamed their approval. Alex would play paper games with me, crosswords or hangman were favorites and we would pass notes back and forth as our father would begin to speak about the proper way of doing things, the changes that would come to this country when he and his party would rise to power. 

“Now here’s the thing, Audrey,” Quincy started as he stretched his legs out in front of him, getting comfortable for his part in my familial treachery. “I don’t want to send you over there alone unless we have no other option. Your mom was English right?” She was Scottish actually, but I did not see much of a difference there. “Do you know about any relatives of her’s you could get in touch with who could give you a hand?”

It was a short list, my mom had died before I developed any real interest in her family history. Though one name came to mind quickly.

“My mom’s aunt, Lucinda Ainsley. She’s the only name I remember mom ever mentioning.” I remembered nothing mom had ever said about her except she liked to send ugly vases to hated relatives. Those were the kind of gifts you had to display or be asked about when she visited. We had never received a vase from her, though she did send one to my father directly after my mother died.

Quincy nodded, “I’ll see if I can start getting in touch with her for you. Now when do you want to leave?”

I paused, thinking about what loose ends I had to tie up before I did something like this. There was very little. I really had no obligations aside from a hated job that I was not even paid to do, I fussed around my pocket for the money my father had given me and began to count the trimes, notes and eagles that Quincy would need to help make this impossible mission a reality. “End of the week at the latest,” I pressed the money into his cold hands and felt lighter than I had in years.

 Oo0Oo0

Dinner in the Byrgen house was always quiet. There was always minimal talking except for the occasional babble from baby Aldridge and Vanessa’s occasional chatter about the other society wives and their families. Vanessa was recounting about the Jones family hosting a silly hillbilly cousin with an atrocious accent that the girls were absolutely in love with for some reason while he openly wondered why they had three forks at the table.

My jaw clench the sound of Vanessa’s charming laugh while the family house elf, Tinsy, refilled her glass. Tinsy turned towards me, lifting the pitcher in a wordless ask if I needed a refill. I shook my head with a forced smile. Tinsy was a sweetheart who disliked Vanessa as much as I did, she rebelled in little ways mostly by being slow to do anything the woman asked, much to my amusement.  

“Anyway, dearest, how was work?”

Jack Graves turned the page of his newspaper with a barely acknowledging nod. “It was fine, Weathers is on the table to takeover the diplomatic post in Britain next year. Apparently the President thinks this Harry Potter statement should be watched and Upton wants to retire to Florida for some reason next summer.”

Harry Potter?

There was no one alive who did not know the story of Harry Potter. Surviving a killing curse was sure to leave some long term damage on a baby, right?

“The boy’s clearly an attention seeking liar,” Vanessa huffed as my eleven-year-old half-sister Annette moved her broccoli around on her plate in sheer boredom. “The return of some long dead dark wizard? A silly idea from a confused mind.”

“Well, Astrid Cunningham wants people she trusts at the embassy to keep an eye on things. She says it’s probably nothing, but some of her favorites are definitely going to get a nice vacation galavanting around Europe out of it.”

The ice water that I brought to my lips was not enough to still my nerves. I took a drink and placed it back on the table with a soft clink. “Father?”

“Yes, Audrey?” 

Vanessa’s eyes seemed to pierce the side of my head with the force of her glare. My hands trembled and clutched my skirt under the table. How dare the extra speak? How dare she remind her better of her unwanted presence? My thoughts swirled before I grabbed hold of my slippery, shifting courage.

“Have you heard from Alex?”

The room stopped. Annette’s fork clinked on the plate as she dropped it and baby Aldridge seemed to instinctively freeze at the sudden chill in the air. Tinsy’s already bulbous hazel eyes seemed to swallow her face as she moved her gaze between each of the people sitting at the table.

The bone chilling terror of making a terrible mistake settled over me like a cloak as my father’s jaw clenched and the silence in the air reeked of a quiet violence that made the hairs on my neck stand on end. There was something inside of me that wanted to apologize and take it back, but the words were free to hover like a battlefield spirit and all I could do was keep talking.

“It’s been five years, he was publishing articles until three months ago!”

There was a part of me that knew what I was doing. I had just intentionally kicked a hornet’s nest.

My father grew red in the face, like a volcano about to explode. Mentioning Alex had put an end to every bit of control he displayed publicly and privately. I don’t know why I had been so blunt on the matter, but it was done and I would have to deal with the consequences.

“Are you not interested in finding him?” My voice was low. “If Voldemort is back maybe we should-“

“I HAVE NO SON!”

I stood up from my seat so quickly the chair fell backwards to the tile floor with a bang that I felt up my spine. 

“Then I guess you don’t have a daughter either!” I was breathing like I had just run a mile as my body shook with barely suppressed adrenaline, my legs struggled to hold me upright as I turned neatly on my heel like a soldier doing drills. I threw the cloth napkin I was clenching on the table before I stormed to the entryway, my eyes focused on the staircase while Aldridge’s cries echoed loudly off the high ceilings of the dining room. “I’ll find my brother!”

“How are you going to find someone you barely know?!” My father’s voice was loud and mocking, like I was too stupid to know the folly I was suggesting. I felt something light inside me like a fire on a cold day. 

“Better a man I barely know then this nest of vipers!”

My father roared and shouted, “He’s never written! Never apologized!"

The things I had wanted to say for years died in my throat, so I settled for something crass and to the point. “NEITHER HAVE YOU, YOU COWARD!”

Jack Graves stepped away from the table and advanced towards me with fire and rage in his eyes. 

“You never paid me for work I did for you! You paid the other interns and not me! Throwing money at me to do what you want for your career is not paying me for the work!”

“You ungrateful little bitch-!” His tirade continued as he stormed forward, though my ears were deafened to it. Annette reached out suddenly, grabbing father’s arm with steady hands and wild eyes as she looked between the two of us. He stopped short, glowering at me with hate in his eyes. I’m not sure he saw me at that moment, I assumed he saw Alex.

“I’m leaving.” 

I could have the family I wanted even if it was just me and one of my siblings. I could not care for the rest of them, my father remarrying almost a year after my mother’s death. His wife who did not care for myself or my brother, only the Graves name and the power it offered. My half-siblings were on their own, but I knew they would have at least a sense of love and affection from those cold people, if only for appearances sake. 

The sound of my feet storming up the stairs and the white noise that echoed through my head as it pulsated with rage. This was it. I stormed down the hallway, bursting through the heavy door of my bedroom, calling my suitcase and backpack with a flick of my wand.

My shaking hands were barely able to keep my wand movements fluid enough to pack my bags. I summoned my MUSA and MUK passports from my dresser drawer and into my purse. My suitcase was too small and I did not trust any extension charm I would place on it to last for the moment. I knew it would end like this, but it did not lessen the pain, shock and fear of it all.

I was alone now, nothing but the road ahead.

I could hear loud voices echoing up the stairway that only made me feel nauseous. The sudden noise of clicking heels and the creaky stair nearly made me puke.

The feeling of an unwelcome presence in my room, a piercing gaze in my back filled me with more fear and trepidation about my inane quest than I ever had before.   

“You heartless girl!” Vanessa’s voice was quiet and sounded like the hiss of a snake. 

The voice behind me was frightening, but I resolved not to show any sign of fear. I had walked through this house too quietly for too long.

“Your father is going to be running for president of MACUSA, do you know what this childish fit will do to his reputation and political standing?”

“Good things for the country?” I snapped back.

Vanessa was not someone who was prone too true kindness, she hated me because I reminded her of my father’s first wife, no, that was not quite correct. I was the reminder that someone else had been in her place first. She was bursting with joy to see me go. It would be easier to become truly first in my father’s attentions and pocketbook if both of his elder children were disowned and left with nothing.

I turned around to look at her. Blonde hair perfectly in place, diamond earrings glittering from her ears as her ruby lips pulled themselves back in a sneer that spoke of her victory as she stood in the doorframe.

“The moment you step out that door, you will never be welcome back in this house.”

There were more whooshing sounds as I threw a couple of books into my bag to read at the international portkey station. An unsettling calm fell over me like a warm blanket as I made sure she saw me put the picture of my mom in the bag last. I made sure she saw her face before I closed clipped the bag closed. Then I turned to face Vanessa, feeling calmer then I ever had since she married my father.

“My mother’s jewelry. Give that to me and you will never see me again.”

Vanessa’s mouth curled in a smug little smirk. “Jewelry? I would discuss that with your father.”

I had seen her wearing some of my mother’s collection over the years, so I knew that was a lie.

Accio!

There was a series of bangs and crashes from down the hallway as several small boxes flew over Vanessa’s head. Vanessa made effort to snatch them out of the air before I caught them in my hand. 

“On to theft now?” Vanessa’s sarcasm made my stomach tighten.

I had the ownership papers and a copy of my mom’s will, there was not anything the law do really do to me in this case, but shouting those words to Vanessa in an act of defiant righteousness the way I had imagined for so long could not happen as the words were stuck in my throat.

Why couldn’t I speak? The moment was here and all I could do was cower like a scared child.

I was leaving to never return. I would never come back to this house. There was no more reason to fear this woman. I was going to say my piece, even if it was not the dramatic exit and grand speech I had planned and fantasized about.

Vanessa stepped into the room, her heels clicking on the wooden floor.

For a moment of time, I could feel the premeditative slap from Vanessa’s ring clad hand that she often threatened to hit me with, but that had never been her way. To noticeable to outsiders and the press. 

The surge of calm that washed me kept me standing as Vanessa moved forward with fury in her eyes. I held my ground and pointed my wand at her chest, stopped her cold a few feet away from me. I was not one for violence, but Vanessa was not going to get a chance to lay her hands on me in anger. Not now, not ever.  

“Congratulations Vanessa, I’m leaving. You’ve finally driven me out. With Alex and me gone, the sidepiece finally got an ideal family.” I lit the tip of my wand, “Now step aside.”

Vanessa’s face was cold and unreadable, my stomach flipped and twisted before she moved away from me at last and pressed herself against the wall. No doubt readying her story for father about how I threatened her and blowing it out of proportion. I levitated my suitcase with a flick of my wand and walked out the door as calmly as I could manage while my heart threatened to escape the cage of my chest.

I turned at the foot of the staircase to find Tinsy hiding behind a large decorative vase next to the coat closet. She was making quiet whimpers and gasps as her batlike ears flicked back and forth as if she was trying to use them to achieve flight.

“Just like little Master Alex,” she whispered as she rocked back and forth, clutching her tattered cloth dress as she became more visibly stressed as I walked closer to her and the front door. She moved out from behind the vase with tears in her large eyes.

“I’m going to find him, Tinsy, I promise.” I stopped and smiled at the house elf, a thought entering my mind through the haze of fear and anger that had engulfed me for the evening. I quickly summoned a shirt from the laundry room nearby. One of Vanessa’s nice blouses in burgundy and elegant gold patterns flew into my hand. I could not have planned this better if I tried. “Here Tinsy, I think you would look nice in this.”

Tinsy’s watery eyes widened as she reached out and took the blouse reverently from my grasp. “Mistress Audrey has given Tinsy a shirt…” Tinsy trembled before rushing into my arms with a muffled cry. “Tinsy is free!”

Tinsy was a warm, sensitive soul who did not deserve to stay in this house. Vanessa could raise her own children, it wouldn’t kill her. 

“We’re both free. You to live your life as you see fit, and me to find my brother. Take care of yourself Tinsy.”

I gave Tinsy one final squeeze before standing up and grabbing my suitcase. 

“Yes, Mistress,” Tinsy wiped her nose on her tattered cloth dress and sniffled loudly. Her new blouse draped over her arm lovingly. 

“It’s just Audrey.” I gave a small wave before I closed the door behind me. The last thing I heard from the house was a sentence being whispered like a prayer.

“As Tinsy sees fit. As Tinsy sees fit.”  

Chapter Text

October 10, 1995

The crisp fall air was so welcoming after the smog of London, I was so overcome by the briskness of it I tripped coming out of the Knight Bus and landed on my face, prompting the conductor (Stan, he said his name was) to step out and help me to my feet. I was woozy from being thrown all over the bus from London to wherever I was now, was how I explained it to myself.

I waved Stan off with a hurried thank you after he handed me my luggage and said something that sounded very kind, but I could not understand what it was. I did understand him telling me to have a nice day before the bus seemed to disappear into the aether, leaving me to examine the looming gate in front of me.

Thornell Estate was located in a wizard village in on the Scottish coastline, it was where my great aunt lived alone. To my knowledge there had never been a husband, wife or lover of any sort. Though I professed to not know much about her life aside from the story about the ugly vases.

From the pictures of the house I had seen in my mother’s old photo albums I assumed my great-aunt was short several very rich relatives.

The gate loomed in front of me like something out of a gothic novel. Dark, imposing and supported by a high stone wall that hid the property from prying eyes. Through the gate I could see rich green grass on both sides of a dirt and gravel path that led into a carefully maintained forest that hid the house itself from view. The path ahead seemed about a mile long and the walk would be welcome after all of the traveling I had done over the last few days. 

I debated hopping over the wall somehow before the gate swung open of its own accord to allow me entry. 

Peering down the dark path ahead of me, I hoisted my bag over my shoulder and stepped forward, praying that my great-aunt was, if not kind, a reasonable woman. 

The shadows of the wall and gate seemed to stretch on forever down the path. The expanse of grass left me feeling very exposed, leaving me longing for the tall buildings and tight streets back in New York or even just what little I had seen of London. 

Maybe I was a city girl at heart?

I could see the outline of a large house through the trees and it put together an image of a some kind of castle. A tall, pointed structure of white stones that seemed to shimmer in the light at points in a way that was could be stunning. Upon walked closer and coming through the trees I finally had a full view of the house and all of its details.

It was magnificent. 

It looked like it had been a small castle, but refurbished over time to look more modern as times changed. The windows gleamed in the sunlight through the surrounding trees and I paused to take it all in. Who would live in something like this alone? It was far too much space for one person.

I heard the crunching sounds of boots on the grass behind me as I took in the house. There was a loud shout followed by garbled speech. I turned quickly to find myself looking at a large broad shouldered man in workers overalls with a plaid shirt and boots. I wondered why he was not wearing a coat, it was freezing out here!

He said something else, his works heavily burred and rough sounding as he looked at me carefully, taking in my dirty knees and heavy suitcase. I took in the man in turn, his brown eyes, grey hair, matching beard and rosy cheeks. He seemed a kindly sort of man, he may have been handsome once but age and outdoor work seemed to have left him fit but slightly to seed.  

"Ya the Graves gurl?" He rumbled from deep in his chest.

I nodded before collecting myself and extending my hand mentally reviewing the talk Senator Weathers had given me about men and handshakes. Keep the hand firm, wrist straight and if they try to squeeze or crush the hand, squeeze back harder while looking deep into their eyes. If they want to assert dominance or frighten then don't let them by fighting back and staring them down.

"Hi! I'm Audrey!" The man reached out and grasped my hand. There was no need to put any of Senator Weather's advice to use. For a man so accustomed to working with his hands I could feel every callous, it was the best handshake I had ever had. "What's your name?"

"Tavish Thacker, the groundskeeper. He gave me a kindly smile as we parted. "I'll take tha' for ya if ya like?" He motioned towards my suitcase.

I shook my head and smiled. "Thank you Mr. Thacker, but I've got it. Could you tell me where I could find my great-aunt?"

He pointed towards the house a few feet away. "In there."

Oh. I glanced down at my dirty shoes and the dirty knees of the pants Cassandra had given me. 

Oh no…

I sucked at cleaning charms and clothes were notoriously hard to get clean with a charm anyway.

Well. Nothing I could do about this fresh disaster.

All I could do was smile and make my best impression. Which, I felt deep in my bones, would probably not be enough.

With a quick thank you to Thacker I picked up my suitcase and walked up the gravel path to the massive front door, rapping a couple of knuckles on the large oak door. I stepped back as the door swung open with a creak to reveal a very old House Elf who had little white hairs sprouting from the top of his head. 

“Yes?” His voice was quiet and whispery.

I introduced myself and asked if Lucinda was available.

“Right this way.”

I followed the House Elf inside, the door slamming shut behind me leaving the room in the cool light of a lamp the elf lead me through the house. It was a beautiful house. It was not as big as it looked on the outside and low light left it feeling spooky enough to feel intriguing. We stepped out of the corridor into a vast room with a figure standing in the center.  

I looked up at the crystal chandelier overhead that refracted the light from the windows. The elf ran immediately to the solitary figure’s side. A tall, stately person with a severe, stern gaze that reminded me of a society mistress or schoolmarm. A pair of round glasses rested on her nose and her grey hair was pulled back in a tight bun. I knew who this person was.

Lucinda looked me up and down before speaking, her voice was very prim and I found her more easily understood then Stan from the Knight Bus. She spoke just like mother did, a faint burr of what I perceived as a comfortable foreignness. 

“You’re taller than I thought you would be." She paused. "And you look like a crow."

I could say the same of her on both counts, but I knew better.

“I am Lucinda Ainsley,” she stuck out her hand and I took in the faint wrinkles on her hands that revealed a softness in age that her face refused to entertain aside from the subtle wrinkles by her mouth and steel blue eyes. 

“Audrey Graves,” I shook her hand with a smile, “You have a lovely home.”

Lucinda’s face remained stoic. “Barry, set up the West Room for tea for Miss Graves and myself. I believe my great-niece and I have much to discuss.”

The elderly house elf gave a slight bow and disappeared with a popping sound.

“You can leave your luggage here for now, I’m still having your room aired out.”

The briskness of her tone made me stand straighter before following her down the hallway. This hallway was full of beautiful landscape portraits and several portraits of people who did not resemble any relatives from the family album. 

“Are these your relatives?”

“Yes,” she stopped in front of a family portrait with a severe looking couple and a severe looking baby and equally stern child. The three figures were talking and whispering to one another. “Stand up straight!” Lucinda snapped like a military commander. “Your great granddaughter is here.” The pictures looked at Lucinda with deep annoyance before doing as they were bid. Lucinda pointed at the baby, that’s your grandfather, Callum.” She pointed to the little girl. “That’s me, and those are your great grandparents, Glenn and Belinda.” The figures in the painting waved with each introduction, I waved back with a smile before following Lucinda deeper into the house.

“Thornell Estate is an old house, the Ainsley’s have been its caretakers for generations, generally the house is passed down the the firstborn son, sometimes a daughter if there are no sons or boys in the extended line.”

“Oh,” I took in the statement and chose my words carefully. “I heard you’re my mother’s only living relative.”

“Yes, Callum never had a son and I never managed to marry. We’re functionally extinct.”

That was grim, I was hoping for a larger family to connect with that I did not know about.

“What happened to Callum?”

Lucinda was quiet for a few moments, the room growing heavier in her silence. “He died a long time ago.”

Oh.

“Now, Tavish lives in a hut by the lake as he has for the last fifty years.” She turned a corner and led me into a small room with an entire wall of windows that looked out over a small pond and garden behind the manor house. “You can see it just over there by the willow tree.”

The hut sat quietly next to the willow tree, it’s whitewashed walls and nearby vegetable garden made it look far cozier and more welcoming then this impressive house.

Lucinda waved her wand to pull out the chairs at a small table with an array of scones and teas before inviting me to have a seat, that we had some things to discuss. The birds chirping out the window added a chorus of ambiance and peace that seemed to absorb Lucinda’s attention while I ate one of the dry scones.

We sat in silence for several minutes, I struggled to hide my expression at the sourness of the tea and covertly put another spoonful of sugar into the cup whenever Lucinda looked out the window to watch the birds. I was more of a coffee person and hoped I could get a good cup somewhere in this country. 

“Now,” Lucinda set her teacup down on the saucer with a clink. “Since I smoothed your arrival with the Ministry of Magic, you owe me some sort of debt.”

I felt my back straighten in the chair. I had spent most of my money on leaving the United States, fussing with paperwork fees and the like with consular office, the rest of the paperwork I had to finish at the Portkey Station so the consulate office knew I left the country and could get transportation help. Lucinda had taken care of the English paperwork through a proxy friend of her’s at the Ministry. I had lost out on the exchange rate from Eagles to Galleons also, which left me with… well, not much at all. Enough for two weeks of rice if I lived under a bridge like the troll or hermit Vanessa often compared me too.

“I have no money, Auntie,” My voice was small and by throat felt as if it was being squeezed by a large hand. “But whatever I can-“

She held up a hand and my mouth snapped closed.

“My conditions are thus, a year in my home as a guest while you find your feet.”

Oh, that seemed simple enough.

“You will attend any social event I invite you too, as you appear to be civilized enough to be seen in public for the next two years.”

Two years?

“Your mother told me once that the Graves were a good family of repute in the States, that they come from wealth and are devoted to service to their country. Here, you’re just some American upstart with a well connected aunt, even as the wealthy here only have their ancestral homes as proof of standing and longevity within their sphere of upper society.” 
 
It took me a few moments to wrap my head around what she was saying. There was something underneath that I was struggling to wrap my mind around but could not quite grasp.

Before I could voice any concerns or theories my aunt began to speak again.

“If you find me an unbearable roommate after a year, you will be in a position to find a flat of your choosing, I ask the second year only as a… recoup on my investment in you.”

“What kind of investment?”

“A social one. You have come to a foreign country with a single suitcase and a handful of change, I want to see you get a good job that you can support yourself since we both know that your father has written you out of the will by now.”

Right. An upstart American relative. I did want to be anonymous. 

“These conditions should allow you to pay your financial debt to me for helping to smooth the paperwork payments to come across the pond, or allow me enough time to forget about it.”

If I had to be someone’s prisoner, Lucinda seemed to be a generous jailer. 

I stuck out my hand as Lucinda pulled out her wand. “Done.”

We shook hands as a white light emitted from her wand, sealing the arrangement between us in a magical formality.

Oo0Oo0

I slept in great comfort that night. Barry the House Elf had cleaned out a room in an unused wing of the house just for me. It had a very soft, spacious bed that welcomed me into it to help rid myself of the final remnants of portkey lag in a feathery, downy softness that smelled vaguely the distinct aroma of longterm storage. I allowed myself a giggle of the sheer absurdity of everything I had accomplished in the last week as I splayed myself across the bed. 

The room was a white with matching furniture and blue accents, Lucinda had called it the Pearl Room and it seemed to do its best to live up to the name. I was afraid to touch anything, my concerns of staining these nice upholstered pieces with unknowingly dirty hands.  
 
This would be alright. I would get to know my great-aunt. Maybe she could tell me about my mom. That would be nice. I wondered what she was like before she got sick, before she got so depressed. Alex would have known, but he was always at school or work when I had the fleeting thought to ask about her. My memories of Lucina Graves were the smell of her sickbed and the sound of her bangle bracelets. Her hands were always so cold, like somehow death had already put a claim on her body and soul. My father had remarried just over a year after her death, which was a hard thing to explain to a six year old. Alex had been so openly disgusted her refused to speak to our father or Vanessa when he was home from school.

Alex did not talk to me much either. The near decade of age difference is impossible to surmount for children.

What if my father was right? What if Alex wanted nothing to do with me? What if this was a horrible presumption on my part of familial affection?

I heaved a heavy sigh and clutched a pillow to my chest, not wanting to think about the worst case anymore. 

I would find Alex. It would probably be at his workplace, the rush and clutter of journalists shouting about scandalous affairs both political and otherwise. My brother's tall frame and dark hair clearly marking his location in the hustle. Maybe I should say something? Maybe I should walk over and tap him on the shoulder? It didn't matter and would not in the moment. The end result was the same. A chorus of excited noises and getting to hold my brother, a hug several years in the making. 

Yes. I had to cling to that.

Oo0Oo0

October 12, 1995

Lucinda had the appearance of a hawk and the disposition of a bulldog, something that I had to learn quickly as she seemed to tear through life like a hurricane. Her eyes were sharp behind her sleek glasses that remained perched on a birdlike nose. She was a very striking woman in her own way. 

She half led, half pulled me towards a shop with a sign that proclaimed it to Twillfit and Tattings, opening the door and motioning for me to follow her inside.

It was different from any other clothes stores I had been in while I lived in the States. There was a variable rainbow of beautifully colored cloth and fabric stored on shelves that seemed to reach from the floor to the ceiling, some reflecting onto the exposed white walls in a display of wearable magic that made me flush at the idea of wearing it. I could not help but stare and walk a little bit closer to examine the materials, they were beautiful and I was a bit afraid to touch them, Vanessa’s words about dirty hands ringing through my mind from a time so long ago. 

I turned my attention to the mannequins who wore robes in various states of finished, pinned and layered in different fabrics as the designer decided how to finish or begin their art. Some of the fabric shimmered in a way that was designed to get attention, perhaps it was formal wear, though it did seem to be a bit odd to have it sat next to designs for everyday use. Perhaps it was for a large order. 

I tucked a few strands of escaping hair behind my ears and wondered what it would be like to have that belle of the ball moment. I had spent my prom night sitting in a room off the dance floor with a talented seer from Maine and her ghostly grandmother. My prom robes were a the color of daisies, a color the old ghost woman deemed ill for my skin tone, whatever that meant. Vanessa had sent the robe wrinkled and too short by several inches and Isabelle Cauldwell had to help me with an extension charm, between the two of us we were unable to make the lace and other fabric less itchy. The ghost’s granddaughter, Urena the Seer examined my palm and told me I would go to far off lands and encounter hardships in love.

I never put much stock in fortune telling but if I was here now, she may have been half right.

Lucinda had waved down a woman with bottle blonde hair and a round face that helped hide whatever her true age might be. It was only when she got closer that I could see the faint lines around her mouth and eyes, though they made her look energetic and coy rather then just markers of time.

“Lucinda, it’s been a while! How have you been?”

Lucinda smiled dryly. “Oh, the same as always. I’ve been working to restore some of the older rooms on the house, which has been a bit of an adventure.” She looked over at me and the woman followed her gaze, seeming to take in a full view of me with her deep brown eyes. “Juliane, this is Audrey, my great niece. Audrey, this is Juliane, she’s a very talented designer.”

“You flatter me, Lucinda.”

I stepped forward, feeling awkward in front of a clearly accomplished lady and reached over to shake her offered hand. She had a business grip, tight, but not tight enough to try and break my hand like the men my father would introduce me too. 

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Ma’am huh?” She smiled coyly. “This is the American niece right?”

Lucinda nodded as I flushed and tucked my hands into my coat pockets. “Yes. She left home in a hurry and left her decent clothes behind. Since I’m sick of looking at those… things she brought, I’m willing to pay you to outfit her.”

“Huh?” My mouth had fallen open, aside from her comment about my clothes, I was taken aback by her generosity. “Auntie, you’ve done so much for me already! I couldn’t possibly-“

“You can and you will. It’s as much for me as it is for you. I’m tired of looking at your wardrobe, your clothes don’t fit right and makes you look awkward. You want to find a job, you’ll need clothes to work and interview in. We’ll both benefit from this investment.”

Investment?

The next hour was a blur of activity. 

Juliane was a woman who relished a challenge. She asked me about styles I liked, I shrugged. I never learned anything about clothes or how to pick them out for myself, Vanessa would measure me and buy me stuff in itchy fabric that made me look very young or matronly depending on where I needed to be for whatever political event my father was involved in that year. Vanessa’s preference was matronly according to the other girls in my year, who would giggle over the photos when they finally recognized me. Juliane was flipping through books and taking notes as she set her assistant to work recording my measurements while the measuring tape flew through the air, measuring my waist, legs, head and fingers before it was ordered to stop.  

It was so strange to be the center of attention like this. My hands clenched at the my skirt to hide the nervous tumbling.

“No yellow, I think.” Juliane waved her wand about, bringing a swirl of cloths to her with each flick of her wrist as her assistant began to take notes. “And black makes you look sallow. Who told you this was fine to wear in public?”

“Huh? I got this from my cousin’s girlfriend, it was the only thing that fit.” 

Cassandra was four inches shorter than me, but she made up for her vertical challenge by being bossy. Once she found out how little I was able to pack before leaving she made me try on some of her donation clothes to see if there was anything I could take. The dress I was wearing, along with a couple of Quincy’s old t-shirts and a really nice coat that was to small for him and too big for Cassandra were quickly put in my bag. The pair of them made sure I was out of the States a week after I left Byrgen House after I told them what had happened. Quincy had solidified himself as my favorite cousin for the rest of my life and Cassandra was going to get some very nice gifts for Christmas for the rest of her own.

“It’s too short,” Juliane said as she measured the length of my legs and distance of the dress from my knees. “Nothing past the knee or just long enough to cover her knees. Dressy, but youthful professional. Now the coat-“

I was keeping the coat.  

“-I like the coat.”

Good. I would not have to hide it in my suitcase for special occasions.

“Women in men’s coats is en vogue.”

Juliane threw a few cloth samples over my shoulders, pulling them off as quickly as she put them on making various noises that her assistant seemed to have no trouble translating as she continued to take notes.

“I have some business daywear in the back we could adjust, and some casual clothes from the racks that we could fix up too. The colors are a bit drab, but I’ll find you some more flashy, flattering colors for what I’ll make you. That purple would be rather fetching, and the deep red and midnight blue would be good also. Pop this girl back to life, I’ll bet!”

My face flushed and I prayed she would not notice.

Vanessa- No, she was out of my life now. Why did I keep trying to think over every little cutting comment she made about me? They played over in my head like a pensieve memory and it… Well, this was just so different and the attention and the kindness was so strange for me. Was this what normal mother-daughter, or aunt-niece relationships were like? Talking, shopping and discussions that became a form of womanly mentorship?

Lucinda was nodding and smiling, adding her own input to Juliane’s comments as they discussed me like a favored doll. Being a doll was fine for moment, Lucinda was paying for everything and I felt she should get final say on most of this, and I truly knew nothing about clothes and fashion.

“What about dress robes?” Lucinda inquired as she examined an expensive silver fabric. “I’m sure Audrey will need them at some point in the future.”

“Hm, if it’s not time critical I can put the fabric aside for you both and send you some designs for approval?”

“Wonderful idea, Juliane.”

The measurements and discussion ended after an hour when Juliane’s assistant emerged from the back with the adjusted clothes from the backroom with and offer for me to try them on. 

Before I could agree I found myself shoved through a curtain with a collection of clothes in my arms and a wall of excited chatter behind me.

Lucinda nodded in approval as I stepped out of the changing room clade in a black knee length skirt, white blouse and deep red over robe with gold embroidery. I assumed it looked fine because Lucinda did not send me back into the dressing room to change. She stood up and paid for the clothes and made sure I wore these clothes when we left the shop.

I thanked Juliane and her assistant for the help, it was not like the fairy stories I had grown up reading, but the experience was close enough to make me flush with dizziness. All of those fairy tales showed a dramatic change in circumstances upon embarking on a new life, I was beginning to feel there was some merit to the concept.

Lucinda walked briskly through the streets, I trailed two steps behind her as to not be as jostled by the crowd and to gaze at the other shops in peace. There was a bookshop with a beautiful display of new books on alchemy in one window, the other window featured romance novels with such beautiful art as to make me blush as the damsel on the cover swooned.

The noise and swarms of color were invigorating. I turned and spun around, my skirt and over robe twirling around my knees. I finally felt free of my family, nobody knew who Jack Graves was, nobody knew about his beautiful second wife, cute photo ready children and the dowdy teenager in the picture who looked like a thirty year old spinster. Nope! As far as the British population was concerned, American politics was a quirky hobby for deeply disturbed political animals. As long as I stayed away from politics, out of the Ministry and found a nice little job in a bookshop or research library, I could get on my feet and begin to look for Alex.

This was truly a perfect arrangement!

I followed Lucinda into the Leaky Cauldron, a bar that smelled like smoke, old wood and warm aroma of comfortable foods. It was also full of people and I struggled to keep up with this spry old woman through the crowd. Wait… Why was she going past the fireplaces? She waited for me at the foot of the stairs, her face a severe expression that made me wonder what it was I had done wrong in the last minute and half. 

“You’re going to meet a friend of mine. She’s very interested in academics. I told her you had moved in with me for a time and she’s very interested in speaking with you.” 

Oh, great. 

My mood diminished as Lucinda instructed me to go upstairs to a private room on the second floor. It’s would be the first room on the right at the top of the stairs. The stairs creaked and groaned as I walked, being carful not trip in my new shoes which were beginning to feel uncomfortably stiff. 

There was a light coming from under the door. I steadied myself and knocked, the door moving forward as I did so to reveal a woman sitting inside at a small table by the window.

"You must be Audrey!" She stood up quickly, flattening a couple of wrinkles in her green robes as she extended her hand to me with a warm smile. "I'm Elizabeth Fudge."

Mrs Fudge was a slight, pretty woman with a round, warm face that made me feel instantly comfortable in her presence. Her blonde hair had wisps of white and grey that showed some of her age, though wix tended to retain vigor even as they physically aged. She had stunning green eyes and if I looked close enough at her hands, I could see the dirt under her nails. I assumed she must have a garden of some sort, maybe a little one befitting a politician's wife. Something to show that she did charitable things for the community, like canning or growing food for the poor and bereft. 

I shook her hand, taking note of the softness and the sweet perfume she wore wafting about her like a cloud. It smelled like flowers, but I couldn't tell what kind. 

"You look just like your mum."

I felt myself freeze as our hands parted. That was the first time anyone had ever said something like that to me in relation to my mom. I never thought we looked alike, I always thought I favored my father, we had the same tall build and thick, black hair. My mom had a beautiful head of sandy blonde hair by comparison and was, according to Alex, a bit short. 

"Oh, thank you," I did my best to hide my shock and smile serenely as Mrs. Fudge invited me to sit down at the table, levitating the pitcher to pour me a cold glass of water. The ice clinked against the glass before settling at the top, leaving an awkward silence between Mrs Fudge and myself. 

The silence continued for a few moments. I felt awkward, even though I knew intellectually that I should engage but the words died on my tongue if they left my brain at all. Mrs Fudge seemed to be doing no better in that regard though she was the one who broke the silence.

"I'm so sorry. I'm terrible at small talk, Cornelius is far better at it than I am, being the Minister of Magic and all that entails." She gave me another bright smile as she seemed to find her footing. "I used to tutor you mother in Herbology at Hogwarts, she needed one after almost poisoning her last study partner with some kind of exotic Bavarian weed."

I giggled, hard. I felt the awkwardness between us break away and Mrs. Fudge began to laugh too. 

"I was never good at Astronomy but that is much less dangerous than being bad at Herbology." I said with a laugh, my crippling failure at navigation for my Astronomy Fifth Year Exam flooding back to my memory, I got a C by the skin of my teeth. 

"Transfiguration was my worst subject. I'm so set on everything being what it is, and not what it could be, I could never change a hedgehog into a pincushion or a needle into a match. I always had the impulse to go find what I needed in my own house." Mrs. Fudge laughed. "That might explain why I decided to run my own greenhouse."

"As a hobby or a business?"

"Business mostly. I grow plants for the potioneers who make medicine for Saint Mungo's. I have some exotic plants, but those are mostly hobby pieces unless someone needs materials for a more exotic potion."

I didn't know any politician's wife who had her own job or a life outside of her husband's career. Women in politics had working husbands, it was part of the image of equality that they were projecting as most of them were coming up from less privileged backgrounds. The women in my father's social circle tended to be housewives, minding their children and handling the social aspects of their husbands busy lives, making connections to better his career. If they had to work, it was generally something harmless like volunteering at an animal shelter, charity work with disadvantaged House Elves or reading to children. If they had to work, they would be school teachers, but most of the time, that would stop if the husband did well enough in his career.

Mrs. Fudge must have seen my confused expression. "I need something to occupy my time that offers me fulfillment. Cornelius enjoys politics, he likes meeting people and being social that way but I'm not good at it, really best I keep my nose out of it. I know it's… different in America, I remember some of the letters your mum sent me after your brother was born."

Letters?

She seemed to notice the question in my eyes and her expression grew even softer. “I’ll have to show you when you and Lucinda come to my next house party. I’ll have to remember where I put them in my office, there’s a whole box of them.”

“Oh, yes please!”

Other topics quickly arose, I spoke with Mrs. Fudge about the herbology classes I took at Ilvermorny about dangerous local fauna and how it was grown in a controlled environment. The shift to history was natural and was equally vigorous. We spoke for an hour before she had to leave to meet her husband who was taking her out for a nice dinner. Mrs. Fudge promised to keep in touch and to find those letters she had kept from my mom before her next event.  

Two days later, Lucinda and I received an invitation to the Fudge’s next party alongside another letter for me offering an opportunity to interview for an open secretarial position in the Minister’s support staff office. The heart of political power in this country.

Whatever forces that have written the course of my life are clearly sick and diabolical. 

Chapter Text

October 17th, 1995

This was a strange series of events that had led me here.

The heels of my shoes clicked on the floor as I stepped out of the phone booth and the Atrium, playing with my visitor pin as I admired the high arched ceiling and the crowd of people packed so tightly I was afraid I would be crushed if I got any closer to the mass of people. 

It was a blur of color and noise that left my guts shriveling and squeezing inside of me in a torrent of confusion and fear mixed with the discomfort of the unfamiliar. The vague memories of the political rallies I had attended as a child filled my mind as I moved forward, Alex’s words about picking a place on the horizon and focusing solely on that to press onwards. There was a desk with an old man in peacock blue robes ahead of me checking the wands of visitors and new staff. That did seem to match Lucinda’s description, causing me to step in line behind a blonde witch with a press pass.

“Pick up the pace, Barney!” She snapped at the photographer in front of her. “We don’t have all day for ya to gab with ya uncle!”

Her accent was a bit thicker than I was used to and it took me a few moments to grasp what exactly she said. I imagined my own accent would be as incomprehensible to these people as theirs was to me at points.

“Patience, Flora,” The photographer was a younger man with a bit of dark scruff on his chin and a teasing smile. “My uncle is a wise man.”

“Wise men and chatty nephews hold up queues.”

I struggled not to giggle as Flora looked back at me sympathetically, causing a breathy wheeze to escape my throat instead.

Barney and his uncle wrapped up their conversation with a dinner invitation and Flora stepped forward to be checked in, continuing to sass Barney all the while as I tried to look as if I were not paying attention to the pair. They both soon were sucked into the mass of people in the Atrium leaving me and the old security wizard who motioned me forward. He had very kind eyes, I thought.

“Hello!” My voice was high and chipper, the way young women tended to talk when trying to be overly friendly or harmless. I cringed internally, my smile frozen on my face as the old man looked at me in surprise.

“The MACUSA Embassy is on the other side of the Thames.”

Isolt’s panties. 

“I’m Canadian.”

Why did I say that?

“CAM Embassy is right next door to MACUSA’s.”

I shook my head, one hand reaching up to adjust my hat. “I’m here for a job interview. I was told to come here first.”

The man seemed surprised, but nodded. “You’re the little foreign girl the upper office told me about.”

Little girl?

“May I see your wand please?”

I nodded and did as I was bid, suddenly self conscious about not polishing my wand as diligently as I usually did due to the chaos of the last two weeks. The handle was very easy to smudge.

The man examined my wand with a critical eye, paying particular attention to the mother of pearl inlay on the handle. 

“Very pretty,” he placed it on the scale and watched it for a moment. I took in the strong nose and hazel eyes while his long fingers drummed impatiently on the counter until he reached down for something under his desk, a piece of paper which he read quickly. I leaned closer, barely able to read it upside-down.

Cedar. 11 inches. Horned Serpent core. Sturdy. In service to Audrey Graves for seven years.

He filed the paper away and returned my wand to me with a smile.

“Welcome to the Ministry Miss Graves, can I help you find anything?”

“I'm looking for the Minister’s Support Staff Office Where would that be?”

“Top floor,” He pointed up to the top of the Atrium. "Get up there and someone can give you better directions than I can."

"Great! Thank you!" I strode into the open space and looked around at the pristine walls and the beautiful fountain in the center. Only… something about the fountain statue left me unsettled. The witch and wizard held their wands aloft standing above the house elf, goblin and centaur who looked at them with adoring expressions. 

This seemed more than a bit… well… Reeking of superiority and would not be something that would be allowed to sit at the heart of MACUSA. We had free elves, goblins ran their own businesses and worked lobbying for various laws, they were not just regulated to banking careers. America did not have centaurs but from the reading I had done in Lucinda's library, I doubted they would look at any wizard with adoration like this statue implied, much like Pukwudgies, they seemed to value their independence.

I took another look at the statue, filling it away as a cultural view that I did not agree with before following the flow of people towards the elevator.

I looked around at the golden grates that were opening and closing looking for one that was not full of people before giving up and getting into one that was filling up quickly.

It was smothering. I moved my hand out to try and touch the button I needed and could not get around the portly wizard in front of me who was pressing me back against the wall as more people stepped on the elevator. I resigned myself to taking a tour as I looked around at the other occupants as I played with the bangle bracelets on my wrist. A couple of middle aged women talking about a book, the portly wizard, another wizard holding a crate with smoke blowing out of the cracks, and lastly a balding middle-aged man next to me with red hair.

I always thought redheads aged gracefully, their color never allowed for grey to settle, instead just to change to a strawberry blond color. The man adjusted his glasses and flipped through some paperwork as the women stepped off the lift and a very old woman stepped on to take their place pushing a tray of tea.

"Morning Arthur."

"Hello Gertie, what do you have this morning?"

"Earl grey, jasmine, some exotic tea that the Nightspur girl from accounting asked for which is surprisingly good."

They're talking about tea. She delivers tea around the Ministry. Is there a coffee witch? If there is, I really need to find her!

The elevator opened on the second floor and the two of them stepped off the lift. It was just me and the two wizards left, the two of them getting off on the fourth floor. I finally got to press the button for the top floor and begin my prayer that the person interviewing me was not an animal of international politics.

Oo0Oo0

I stepped off the lift brimming with newfound hope and confidence. If I said it enough, it would eventually become true. 

Absolutely nothing will go wrong today! 

The corridor was a long white hallway with occasional pictures for decoration. I walked past a door labeled Conference Room where I could hear low voices in a meeting. There were a couple of restrooms. The letter had said the support staff office was just one room so it sounded like the Minister kept his staff close for convenience.

 My life was finally starting in some fashion and I couldn’t have been more excited!

I felt myself hit something solid right as I went to turn the corner, causing me to fall backwards as I was eclipsed in a hurricane of paperwork and quills. I sat on the floor for a minute, afraid to look up at the damage I had caused. 

A man’s voice broke through my scrambled embarrassed thoughts with a clearly angry muttering that was obviously louder than intended.

“I am so sorry!” The words flowed quickly from my mouth as I looked at the brown shoes in front of me. The man’s shoes. Those definitely belonged to man. The rest of him was around the corner in the same position I was. 

Isolt’s panties! Please don't be the guy I'm supposed to interview!

The feet disappeared around the corner as the man seemed to be trying to get back up. I started following his lead, wanting to be on my feet when I looked this person in the eyes. I pulled my wand out of my sleeve and started summoning my paperwork and my hat, which had flown off my head during my collision.

There was the noise of rushing parchment behind me as I put my hat back on my head and turned around ready to make more apologies.

The man who had stepped around the corner was tall and thin, maybe 6’2 and he had the reddest hair I had ever seen. His eyes were blue behind the wire frames of his glasses and his face was covered in freckles, which offered a contradiction of youthful boyishness with the condensation of an old man about to chase a teenage hooligan off his property.

My face grew uncomfortably warm, I always did like red hair. Though the tightlipped, peevish expression was quick to stop my admiration cold. I fixed my hat and patted down my robes to flatten the wrinkles. 

“Are you alright?” His voice was low and rich to my ears, though I thought that about most people I had met in the last couple of weeks. 

“I’m fine, I’m looking for Mr. Weasley-“ His shoulders tightened, “-in the Minister’s Support Staff office? I’m supposed to interview with him in fifteen minutes.” He visibly tried to relax, his shoulders making an effort to move back to a more natural position.

"That's me."

Oh, hell!

I immediately stuck my hand out with a bright friendly smile that I hoped did not make me look like a psychopath. 

"I'm Audrey Graves, nice to meet you!"

He's no older than I am!

I kept that comment to myself. 

"Percy Weasley," his tone was polite and clipped as he shook my hand. Appropriate since I just put him on the floor.

Well, I did not think I would be getting this job now.

Time to make my home in a cardboard box by Lucinda's front gate. Maybe Thacker would make room in his hut if I volunteered to work in the garden? He seemed to like me.

"Follow me please."

I did as I was bid, following this… teenager. 

That would make me a hypocrite, I turned eighteen yesterday.

He’s either very good at his job, or like me, he knew someone who got him the job. As curious as I was, it would be rude to ask. 

The young man opened a door into a large office as spartan as the hallway outside. It had white walls, a large window showing a rainy fall day and some impersonal artwork of flower vases that moved in a non existent wind. I assumed Mrs. Fudge had picked them out in an effort to brighten up the place. Not even that thought could remove my opinion that the whole room reminded me of a Healer's office. 

Weasley, (I can't call someone Mister if they're my own age, it's gross) took a seat at the large oak desk. It was as spartan as the rest of the office. I took note of the two empty desks on the other side of the room, one obviously vacant the other clearly in use. I wondered how long the last secretary had lasted. A couple of days, weeks or months?

I snapped back to attention at the sound of a chair moving across the carpet. I smiled awkwardly and sat down in the chair at the other side of his desk and pulled the folder with my resume and letters of recommendation from my expanded purse, laying the folder on the desk nervously before placing my purse on the floor.

“Now, as Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic,” his tone was one of pride and pomposity, complete with a smug little smile. “I have been asked to fill the office’s Administrative Assistant position. You came recommended by the Minister’s wife.”

I was hoping she just threw it on his desk.

“How do you know each other?” 

“She was a friend of my mom’s, I’ve never met her before I came to England.”

“And you’ve been in the country how long exactly?”

“A couple of weeks.”

It was not my credentials that got me in for this interview. It was Lucinda's connections and Mrs. Fudge who was so taken with my mother. I never applied for this job and I now had to sell my skill set to this… boy no older than I was but who seems to think he's forty-five. 

That knowledge did not boost my confidence at all 

Weasley was looking over my paperwork with a critical eye, the light from the ceiling refracting off his glasses in a way that could be seen as quite menacing.

No, not entirely menacing. The shocking red hair and the freckles make him look very young, which may explain some of the pretentious old man behavior I had seen in the hallway. He more reminded me of an intern or assistant clerk, having had a taste of power and recently taking a course on management or reading a book or three on such topics.

It must be odd to be a Junior Assistant (whatever that was) to a leading world figure while still looking like the lanky teenager he was. 

"Miss Graves," I felt my face color, I didn't think he noticed my looking him over. "What brings you to England?"

I had practiced this in the mirror this morning until it told me to shut up and have some tea to calm my nerves.

"My great-aunt offered to let me stay with her after graduation. I have dual citizenship so it was simple enough to arrange."

He nodded and looked over my resume again. 

"I'm not familiar with the American education system, what exactly is a Horned Serpent?”

Not familiar with the wildlife either apparently.

I tucked a stray strand of black hair behind my ear. “They’re large water snakes, some of them have crystal scales, large gems on their head instead of a horn.” I sighed, remembering an encounter I had with an old serpent several years ago. “They’re beautiful creatures.”

“Then why does it say Horned Serpent as your attended house on your application?”

Oh.

“I graduated from Ilvermorny, Horned Serpent was my house." I thought for a moment, debating on letting an educational opportunity slip by. "Each of the houses at Ilvermorny are said to represent an aspect of a wix, the mind, the body, the heart and the soul.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about American magical education.”

“I don’t know anything about Hogwarts, so that seems fair,” I smiled and adjusted the collar of my jacket. 

“What does a Horned Serpent represent in your school system?”

“The mind."

"I see." He went back to examining my papers.

Horned Serpent house produced many fine wix, Maria Begay who was now a Senator for Texas and an activist for Native American rights specifically for allowing tribes a form of statehood that would provide them permanent representation in MACUSA. Another was Amos Fitzgerald, an acclaimed writer from the Civil War era who wrote a famous novel about family division and political strife in the backdrop of war. 

I had a feeling that none of that would be too interesting for anyone interviewing me, so I settled back in my seat and waited for more questions. There was something inside of me that screamed at me to open my mouth for once, to take turn the conversation to take control of the conversation and put some effort into getting this job.

“I have government experience,” I said quickly. “I did an internship at MACUSA for Senator Weathers, I enclosed his letter of recommendation. The green folder with the white label."

He flipped through the paperwork again. 

“Mr. Weathers asked me to write several press releases and speeches for him in regards to his various projects related to urban expansion and how to hide it from No-Majs.”

There was a serious, questioning look from Weasley before he clarified “Do you mean muggles?”

“Oh, is that what they’re called here?” Muggles. I think I liked that better. It seemed to roll off the tongue. “I have samples of things that I have written during my internship if you would like to read them, along with project outlines and notes as well.”

He nodded and opened the file with the letters of recommendation from Senator Weathers, his secretary and from Cassandra who wrote me a personal one to affirm that I was a decent person outside of work and that she could back up any claims made by the senator and his secretary.

There were a few questions from Weasley, why this wording. What kind of projects exactly? Explain the details. Explain the differences between MACUSA and the Ministry of Magic with regards to political systems.

It was like an Ilvermorney oral exam.

“And this latest internship for Senator Graves?” He looked at me with something akin to suspicion, the question seeming to come out of nowhere.

I collected myself quickly. It was not an unexpected question. I had practiced this.

“Senator Graves is a third cousin of mine, I never met him before the internship.” Nope. That was a lie. "The internship was offered to me on the basis of my grades, not one of familial relations." It wasn't, quite the opposite. "The senator offered me the position as a favor to Senator Weathers who had to step away from politics due to his wife's sudden passing.” Poor Mr. Weathers. “Four months was the arranged end date of the internship.” It wasn’t. “I covered various secretarial duties for the senator and arranged several meetings with lobbyists, other political figures and ensured the smooth running of meetings by creating itineraries and researching laws other tasks that aided in the smooth running of a busy office.” All true, and I did it for free! 

He opened up my transcripts from Ilvermorny that I had to pay to get translated to the UK grading system. My A's became O's and my B's became E's which was very jarring and made me feel like an idiot for about thirty minutes.

"Outstandings in History of Magic, Charms, Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology-"

The herbology grade was not deserved, I was just very good at getting the garden snakes to protect my plants with rocks charmed for perpetual warmth. They were very grateful.

America is still full of dangerous creatures and Ilvermorny wanted to ensure none of the students died due to ignorance of how to handle encounters with the most common of them. The exams for both of those classes were probably far more difficult than it would be here because we had to learn about the non magical dangerous creatures also. Though the venomous snakes held no real worry for me, they were generally nervous personalities.

"Exceeds Expectations in Arithmancy, Potions, Ancient Runes and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Which was equal to ten NEWTs here according to the woman who officiated the paperwork. It was such a long year of exam preparation that my final year of school just flew by. I dropped Astronomy after my Fifth Year, and it was so nice not to have that dangling over my head.

He flipped the paper over, he appeared to be looking for anything labeled Acceptable for my final year exams. Good luck to him.

"You've done very well in school.” He sounded almost surprised. 

“Thank you.”

The conversation seemed to dry up as the interview came to its natural conclusion. The clock on the wall chimed eleven and Weasley got to his feet, signaling the end of our interview.

"Thank you for your time, Miss Graves. We'll be in touch."

I smiled, shook his hand again (his hands were cold!) and thanked him for the opportunity as he escorted me to the elevator. The ride down was long and gave me time to think, I did not think that interview went well and it may be wise to go fill out applications in Diagon Alley. From what I remembered there was a bookshop that was hiring and I had an errand to run anyway.

Oo0Oo0

This was it. This was the moment. I stood in on the roof of the post office in Diagon Alley holding a particularly fat tawny owl. The four letters I had written for Alex were tied to it’s leg and the owl was looking at me with judgmental eyes. The rooftop was pretty, it had benches, stone and several perches for returning owls. Owls were very useful, but sometimes it was not convenient to have one if a person lived in the city as it could attract muggle attention. 

"Don't look at me like that," I said firmly as I checked the security of the letters. "You have been fed, I gave you two treats so you won't have to stop for food, and this will be the easiest delivery of your career."

The owl gave a low hoot that still seemed to speak of not being impressed.

My previous letters to Alex when I was living in the states were all returned. Though that may have been because I was addressing them to Alex Graves, not Alex Ainsley. If he changed his name and Alex Ainsley was not just a pen name, then that would be enough to deter an owl from delivery due to being unable to find him. I also did not have any of his addresses or knew where he would be working from week to week, so I had written four letters. Two with the name Alex Graves for both the Modernist, and the Egregious Erumphant. The same had been done with the other two letters under the name Alex Ainsley. 

Being in the same country was going to make this a lot easier.

I took a deep breath.

"Alright, there is nothing else to be done. Peck him until he answers me." I raised my arm into the air with the fat owl aloft. "Now go! Fly my pretty!"

The owl's wings flapped silently as it took to the air. I watched for a few seconds as it circled over my head, attempting to even out and catch an updraft.

Alex and I would be having scones with Lucinda before the month was out! Maybe he knew about a good coffee shop? I hoped so!

The owl flew back down and landed on a nearby bench, giving me an absolutely filthy look before holding out it's leg with the letters dangling freely.

"I used both names! What gives?"

There was an irritated screech from the bird as if I was intentionally wasting it's time.

Did… Did Alex make himself unplottable? I dropped down on the bench with a sigh. This had just gotten so much more complicated.

The owl gave a mocking hoot.

I was going to have to go backwards from the latest of Alex’s articles that I had and start there, but where were these newspaper offices? If I went in person, Alex would have a harder time avoiding me if avoiding family was what he was doing. 

"Ugh…"

Oo0Oo0

The following morning I received an owl with a start date and some additional paperwork to begin working in the Minister of Magic’s Support Staff Office the following Monday. Lucinda was absolutely thrilled. I was just relieved to be getting some form of income, even if it was more government secretarial work. 

Maybe I could find a record of Alex somewhere in the immigration offices? It would be a place to start.

With that thought in mind, I hastily filled out the paperwork alongside a note stating my agreement to the offered salary and the start date.

Chapter Text

October 24, 1995

I spun in front of the full length mirror I had found under a sheet in my bedroom. The work robes were nice, long with little bits of decoration on the sleeve in gold thread. I spun again like a little girl in a new dress feeling the fabric fly up over my knees from the force of it. I felt like an adult, but in a way that was uncomfortable, like I was wearing a second skin, like I was pretending and merely playing dress up.

At least these clothes fit and are not black.

Lucinda's comment about my looking like a crow came back to my mind and made me giggle. I looked more like a parakeet now, but so did everyone else. 

I pushed my flyaway bangs out of my eyes and smiled. It looked unnatural on my face, too many teeth and too American as Lucinda had been telling me during what she had called her lessons.

Stand up straight. Don't hunch! Look people in the eye when speaking with them. Repeat someone's name after meeting them to help you remember it. 

I thought I already did those things, but I guess it was not up to her standards. 

Pulling my black hair back into a low bun at the nape of my neck to help complete my illusion of adulthood. I looked much different then the girl who had been featured in the papers every five years for father's reelection campaigns. That girl looked awkward and gangly, her thick hair was long and hanging down around her chest like a curtain. 

If I saw anyone from the MACUSA embassy, I would step away and they wouldn't think anymore about it unless I opened my mouth to speak. I could just say I was a… relative. A third cousin! No one knows all of their third cousins and my great grandfather was prone to stepping out on his wife. Perfect!

I stepped away from the mirror

I may have to learn the English accent.

...Oh, boy.

All I’m afraid I am going to hear from my new coworkers is the loud or lazy American joke, both of which have been done to death. Okay, I will be calm. Relaxed. And quiet.

No different from normal.

There was the sensation of New Audrey crawling back into the cocoon she had made an effort to remove herself from once she stepped onto the soil of England. Was I content to come here across the world to continue acting like a houseplant with the personality to match? No, I could still be professional and be more… something. Strong? Open? I wasn’t sure yet.

I dropped into an hard, upholstered chair with a design like tapestry in brilliant blues and whites to complement the room, my hand immediately moving down to touch the fraying edges and the stuffing inside. 

It was odd, Lucinda had money but this room and others outside of the main rooms on the ground floor had chipped or fraying furniture, were these from her parents or ancestors? Was that why she was reluctant to replace? Why not find someone to repair, reparation charms never stuck to anything very long. Which may explain why these were getting frayed. 

Perhaps Lucinda was on a wait list to have everything reupholstered? I knew it was hard to find a good upholster for fabric of magical origin, there were a lot of charms a wix would place on their furniture to preserve it in the long term and make it softer.     

The clock chimed the hour and I suddenly found I had no more time to spare on thoughts of Lucinda’s home projects.

Oo0Oo0

"The Potter boy talks to snakes you know."

I felt myself freeze next to this group of people next to the newspaper stand inside the Ministry, I immediately picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet and began turning pages looking for any kind of international news while I listened to them talk. 

"Really?" A woman whispered as she leaned in with her coworker to better hear what the man was saying. “I heard rumors but I was not sure I believed them!”

“My daughter was at a dueling club at Hogwarts a few years ago and Potter was egging on a snake to attack another boy. I thought it was a childish story until Rita Skeeter put published that article last year.”

What?

"Can't trust a snake talker. They’re all Dark Wizards waiting for their opportunity.” 

I fought not to turn and stare at this group of people. 

I knew parseltongues had an uncommon ability, I just did not know it was feared in this part of the world. Snake talkers were more common among the Native American tribes or the various African and Indian immigrants. There were not a lot of snakes here, it was too cold for them to thrive. I knew of MACUSA employees who worked in magical wildlife conservation that could talk to snakes, it was something they tested all of their recruits for even if it was rare. Having someone who could calm a scared, venomous snake was of real value in more desolate areas where medical care was hours away or to treat injured Horned Serpents that dwelled in various deep rivers in the U.S.

I bit my tongue, the pain keeping me focused. 

Father did not like my claims that the garden snake was hungry. The ball python at the zoo wanted to see the world. Father would cuff me over the head and tell me to hush because I was worrying my mom. My father would just tell her I had a wild imagination and I quickly learned to keep those things to myself.

Alex instead would just smile at me and ruffle my hair when our parents walked on ahead. I think he knew it was more then my wild imagination. I often imagined sending the garden snakes from the Byrgen House vegetable patch after Vanessa when she was being particularly smug or callous with her words. 

I had never met anyone else who could talk to snakes. What kinds of wildlife could I communicate with in this country? How many other people could talk to snakes here?

It didn’t matter. If I said I could talk to snakes to anyone, I would not be met with any sort of kind reception, even if I thought the person could be trusted.

I paid the paper seller a couple of knuts before getting on the elevator to the Minister’s office.

Oo0Oo0

Jobs were no different even in other countries. Being a secretary, (Administrative Assistant, Percy so insisted). The piles of paperwork I had was the same as when I worked in the Graves Senate Office, a lot of people wanting a few minutes of time from a very important and very busy man.

Cornelius Fudge was shorter than I expected, he wore pinstripe robes and a ghastly green bowler hat that left me hiding an amused smile behind my hand after he retreated to his office. Why would his wife let him out of the house in that silly thing? What was the appeal? Did he meet foreign dignitaries when he wore it? 

Aside from his questionable taste in hats, Minister Fudge was a nice man who spoke to me about his wife's new garden, greenhouse and what exotic plants she was growing this year. Suddenly, I could understand why his wife seemed to ignore the ghastly hat. He spoke of her with a warmth and clearly deep affection that told me more about their relationship than blunt words could ever manage.

Eddie Smith was the Senior Undersecretary, a jovial man in his late thirties with twinkling hazel eyes and a smidge of trouble in his crooked smile. He was stocky and broad-shouldered, an inch or two under six feet. He had started the job a couple of months ago, apparently his predecessor was now teaching at Hogwarts. Eddie had a lot of questions about the States, if it was true about most of the wildlife being dangerous.

I told him that Australia had far more dangerous wildlife, but Hidebehinds were an among the most dangerous creatures in the country.

“Hidebehinds? That doesn’t sound dangerous at all.”

“They’re territorial, they kill about ten wix a year and who knows how many No-majs.”

“Merlin's pants, I'm taking the America off my bucket list." He gave me a hearty slap on the shoulder and a joking laugh before going back to his desk where he had a pile of paperwork waiting for him. Percy's eyes following him like a judgmental hawk.

No. This job was no different from my father's office at all. As the morning passed, I sorted my desk and filing cabinet to my liking. Eddie gave me a quill and two bottles of ink as a welcoming gift, it was apparent he was glad to have the help. It became clear why as I was soon asked to spin various excuses about the Minister's availability to visitors from other offices when Eddie and Percy were tied up with other things. A janitor who wanted to get the room specs to paint the offices and the conference rooms. Another was a clerk from the Beast, Being and Spirit Office who was running an errand for his department head. 

“He’s in a meeting… No, he will not be back later, he’ll be in another meeting… With the law enforcement offices…. No, I don’t know what they’ll be discussing, I’ve only been here four hours…. The job! Not the country!”

After the clerk left, I had an hour of reprieve to read the handbook there was a department head who needed to check a policy. Percy took that one while I flipped to the appropriate section of the handbook to commit it to memory while listening to his quote direct passages of what I was reading.

"Section twelve, subsection B covers all policies related to parental leave and subsection C covers the specifics of pay including who you need to talk to in the accounting and payroll offices."

Heh, he was right.

The man was a policy wonk.   

I was still not entirely sure what an Undersecretary or Junior Assistant did, but clearly I was just here to run a schedule and make plausible excuses to keep people from bothering a leading national figure and I was fine with that. The work seemed easy enough. I could craft some excellent excuses and flat out lies.

Minister Fudge left his office for a meeting with his department heads, Percy trailing behind him like a particularly proud dog with his head high like a… Greyhound maybe? He was very tall, but I did not get the impression he was very quick on uptakes. A labrador might be more accurate, he seemed very loyal to the position if nothing else. I saw a lot of that during my internships with MACUSA. Boys from money whose family connections got them a comfortable job right out of school.

I can’t say I’m any different, but ending up in essentially a president’s office right out of school spoke to a level of corruption I was not sure I wanted to dwell on too much.

Maybe he was older then he looked? I wasn’t sure anymore. 

Eddie and I were left to our own devices as the door closed behind Weasley. I heard Eddie begin to rifle through his filing cabinet, muttering to himself as he did so about the organizational skills of someone called Umbridge, I assumed that was his predecessor. I ignored him, it sounded like a thinking aloud sort of chat.

He stopped muttering and there was the scratching of a quill on paper. 

“Psst! Audrey!” 

I looked up from the policy guidebook I was reading towards Eddie who was smiling at me, his eyes glimmering with excitement. We looked at each other for a moment before he sent a memo flying through the air to land perfectly in my intake tray. 

“Want to run an errand?” 

I nodded and opened the memo he sent me.

Accounting Department

Pick up spending logs for all departments the latest accounting period. Ask for Misty Nightspur.

Also need the finance reports for the last two years for the Minister’s Office, ask for the head accountant Nobby Clark. 

He had drawn a little smiley face at the bottom that made me chuckle.

“Wait? Nobby?"

“It’s short for Norbert, he is as dull as he sounds.”

He sounded very dull indeed. 

“Accounting office is in the Wizengamot Administrative Office on the second level,” Eddie added, “I would send Percy, but he’s taking notes for Fudge somewhere.”

“I thought I was just supposed to stay here?”

“Walking is good for you. Besides, this place is boring. You’ll miss nothing.”

“I would like a walk.”

“Oh, While you’re there, thank Misty for requesting that fancy tea for Agatha’s cart. I thought it was delicious.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

Oo0Oo0

I stepped into the accounting office, the many voices merging together in a mostly meaningless clamor mixed with the sounds of clicking and whirring from various devices around the room. It was a calm spaces with eggshell white walls and dark blue curtains at the windows. I ambled over to the office with the oak door the secretary pointed me towards. 

I knocked on the door and was told to enter.

The woman inside was small, maybe five foot two if I was being generous, through it was hard to tell as she was sitting behind a desk. She had an absolute shock of curly red hair that flew out in all directions as it made a valiant effort to escape the bun at the nape of her neck, the color of her hair contrasted sharply with the olive tone of her skin in a way that was unusual and attractive in an exotic way. Though, it took me a moment to register her slightly pointed ears. I was very taken with her hair. 

The small woman looked me up and down as she moved the papers on her desk, the piles of number covered parchment to one corner, memos to the other corner, the abacus in a place of honor right in the middle of her desk. She then resumed her scratching of notations and numbers like she had not seen me at all. 

“Um…”

I took notice the nameplate on her desk. Misty Nightspur- Junior Accountant.

I was definitely in the right place.

“Can I help you?” She had a stern voice with careful enunciation on each syllable. It was a radical contrast to her slight stature.

I introduced myself quickly, feeling a little intimated by this woman. She could not have been much older then me but so established in her career… I hoped to be such in a few years. 

“You’re here to pick up the spending reports for the last fiscal period, right?”

“Yes.”

Misty pointed to a filing cabinet behind me with a long, knobby finger. “Third drawer from the bottom, it’s the fat file with the label on it. Can’t miss it.” She looked over me one more time and picked up the abacus to go back her calculations. 

I did as I was bid and quickly left the office with a hurried thank you.

A blonde woman moved past me as I stepped out the door with a toss of her head, the door closing behind her leaving a small crack. I moved off to the side to ensure I had the right paperwork. I could hear the tittering of the secretaries off to my left.

At least some things were still the same on foreign soil.

Voices rose in the office behind me, an irrational fear that they were talking about me, laughing at my accent or already knew who my father was somehow kept me frozen in place. 

No! None of that, Audrey. 

I mindlessly flipped through the files I had received, not really seeing anything distressing or unusual.

“I can’t believe they let a halfbreed back in to handle finances after what you did?”

My eyes widened and I leaned in closer to the door. 

“I thought you would have gotten a job with Gringotts with your relatives but clearly they don’t want you around either.”

What is this woman’s issue?

“Go away, Jasmine.”

“Why? Are you hiding something? Going to tell the goblins all our secrets? The Ministry barely allows you a wand. I’m just supervising."

I did not like this woman’s tone. 

The way she spoke to the small redheaded woman reminded me of my stepmother. A casual, quiet kind of cruelty laced every word. Something that she seemed innately familiar with through practice and study.

I took a deep breath. I did not want to get involved. I was new here, I had no standing, a funny accent, and the smartest thing I could do would be to walk away and file an anonymous report.

I opened the door again, something pushing me against my better judgement. The door swung wide open and I strode inside with a measure of confidence that I did not feel.

"Sorry to interrupt," I allowed my voice to carry as I moved into the room, feeling the eyes of the red haired woman and her antagonizer settle upon me. "I'm afraid I forgot to pick up the last two years of finance reports for the Minister’s Office, and I seem to be missing some paperwork in these spending reports. Would you be able to help me with that?"

I watched the blonde woman's face pale as she stepped away from Misty’s desk where she had been leaning over to look more intimating to the smaller woman. I guessed she heard about the foreign girl in the Minister's office. 

Misty’s eyes were wide with surprise, "Sure." She opened her desk drawer to check some other files, her long fingers moving each file as she looked for reports.

"I don't think we've met." The woman behind me spoke, "I'm Jasmine Rosier."

Something came over me, I was weak in the knees and turned my back to the woman who reminded me of Vanessa in more then a few ways. 

“How are things here in accounting, Misty? Eddie Smith from upstairs says he likes the tea you recommended for Agatha’s cart.” I ignored the Rosier woman and continued to attempt to engage Misty, her brown eyes moved between her tormentor, me and the files in the drawer.

“I’m glad someone else enjoys it! As for accounting, I get to work alone and do math which is really most of what I want in a job." I did not miss the pointed glance she gave to Jasmine.

"You're the Minister's new secretary, right?" Jasmine seemed to insist on talking and not take a hint. "The American?"

Administrative Assistant.

"That sounds really nice actually, I have to socialize and make nice with all of the people who want to see Minister Fudge because Percy is not very good at it."

"No he's not!" Misty perked up immediately. “My friend went to school with him and he was a nightmare! He’s not subtle!”

Oh, there’s a story there!

There was a huff from Jasmine Rosier and the click of her heels on the wooden floor before the sounds of a closing door brought Misty and I to silence.

Misty looked up at me with sparkling brown eyes. "I don't handle those finance sheets, but you knew that." She smiled and I noted the extra point on her canines. Misty pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled down her name and some other information before sliding it across the desk towards me. "I'm Misty Nightspur, my friend Zara and I like to go for drinks at the Leaky Cauldron on Fridays and I'd love it if you could join us! As a thank you.”

I picked up the paper, it had the name of the bar and the time of the meeting and I felt my face flush with nervous excitement. Was I making friends? 

"You mean drink alcohol? Aren't we underage?" 

"Drinking age here is seventeen." Misty's smile widened as my face grew redder in embarrassment. "You should come, better you learn your alcohol tolerance with a couple of girls then some man on your first date. That would just be embarrassing!"

Yes. Yes it would.

"We'll see you Friday then?"

I nodded and agreed to the meeting as I stepped out of Misty's office and into the bustling, clicking whirr of the rest of the floor.

I read the paper again when I stepped into the hallway, feeling like it would disappear out of my hands in an instant. I hung out with girls at school, but they never invited me anywhere. The impression I got was that they found me boring after the initial introduction, a Graves with no interest in fighting Dark Arts? How pedestrian. Other times people seemed too intimidated or impressed by my family to try and get to know me as a person.

Coming to this country and getting away from all of that was looking like a better choice with every day that passed. 

Chapter Text

October 27, 1995

I sat at my desk with a contented sigh and pulled out my copy of the Daily Prophet to read before our morning meeting and wait for one of the elderly tea witches who made rounds to provide a morning drink to the staff. These women found me horrifying for my blatant dislike of this country’s bitter leaf juice. So did my coworkers.

I decided to ask. The worst case scenario was to buy a coffee device and put it in the break room down the hall. I did not want to spend the money for the parts unless I had too. If nobody here drank tea, I did not want to think about the cost of getting the right parts and pieces from a brewer to make a morning cup with a filter, some coffee beans and an aquamenti charm. It was delicious, but a lot of effort for a single cup. Though I could set it up in the morning and pick it up in half an hour. There was a need for a few more paychecks in the bank before I felt comfortable enough to do anything about that.

The knock on the door announced Agatha’s arrival. She was a little old witch with white hair and a gentle, grandmotherly air and a disturbing passion for tea. Her cart had a small hot plate that kept a kettle of water full and hot along with a selection of tea for various employees.

There was a chorus of greetings to Agatha, or maybe just the tea on the cart, which she responded to with a cheery greeting of her own. 

“I have green tea for the Minister, the earl grey for Percy, that peach stuff for Eddie and that… American bean juice for your secretary.”

She brought the coffee! I can finally begin to feel like a human!

“Thank you, Agatha!” I could smell the coffee. It was lingering in the air like a siren song. I struggled to find any good coffee, America was as peculiar and careful about our national drink as the English were with their tea. I reached out and accepted the mug from Agatha with an excited smile, putting two spoonfuls of sugar and some milk with a few flicks of my wand. 

I took a sip.

“How is it?” Agatha asked as my coworkers prepared their own drinks.

It was terrible.

“Delicious, thank you!” I smiled and took another sip as she looked at me with a pleased smile.

I moved the mug aside, I would finish it, it was not undrinkable, but it tasted funny. Stale seemed an apt descriptor. 

Agatha bid her goodbyes as quickly as she arrived, leaving the office to look through our respective copies of the Daily Prophet, or in my case the copy of the New York Ghost had been left on the Fountain of Magical Brethren that morning when I had come into work. I settled back in my chair and skimmed the headlines. It was several days out of date, but Quadpot season was in full swing and I needed to know how the New York Snidgets were doing for my own peace of mind. They were just… so bad at Quadpot. 

I tried to erase the memory of the Snidget’s loss to the Philadelphia Riders and their gloating green creature of a mascot’s celebratory dance after it defeated the person in a Snidget costume in a celebratory brawl on the pitch. It had been a very long season. 

Seeing nothing of concern in the sports section, I moved my attention to the front page headlines.  

Has Voldemort returned? British Wix Say No!

Hm. Maybe I should ask about this?

"Percy?"

There was an acknowledging noise from across the room. I looked up to see Percy focusing intently on the copy of the Daily Prophet while he drank his tea, looking for tidbits of information for the Minister to rebuke in his next press conference. 

"What do you think about this Voldemort thing?"

Percy snapped to attention so quickly his tea went into his lap.

I turned my spare manilla folder into a large towel and expelled it across the room so quickly it accidentally landed on his head. He yanked it off with an annoyed noise as he waved his wand about to dry himself off without being burned.

"You! Know! Who!" His face and neck were the same blistering red as his hair as he angrily enunciated each word.

"I do not know who!"

“Weasley! I don’t think she knows,” Eddie’s voice cut through the room.

“How could she not? She reads the paper all day!”

Mostly papers from the States I needed to know when Jack announced his run and who his primary opponents would be aside from rumors about Ismelda Wolf.  

“You never give me anything to do!” I was the office secretary, the only person who gave me things to look over was Eddie, who seemed quite pleased with my quick turn around time. My job was to chase people off and do whatever low level paperwork and scheduling no one else wanted to do. Percy tend to make me feel lazy because he never passed any extra stuff over. 

“Because you have terrible spelling!”

“So do you!”

“I think that’s a culture thing,” Eddie’s voice broke through in an effort to put us back on track, but neither Percy or I really cared to hear it, instead resorting to a stony silence as we glared at each other. I could hear Eddie pushing back his chair slowly. “Aud, a word.”

I followed quickly, leaving my tea-soaked coworker to his own devices.

Eddie closed the office door with a click while I leaned against the wall. I was pretty sure Eddie, as nice as he was, had every power to fire me. If I was to be fired for ignorance, then perhaps he should just get it over with. 

“Um…”

He did his best impression of my father when he was trying to explain the differences between boys and girls.

“How much do you know about… Uh… Whatever you call him.”

“Voldemort?”

Eddie looked like I had just uttered a horrible swearword and paled considerably in an instant. “Yeah, that word. Don’t say that. It’s You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Not that other word.”

I raised an eyebrow as I looked at Eddie. “You mean his name?”

“Er… Yes. Exactly.” He shuffled his feet nervously. “You know about the war? You-Know-Who’s rise to power?”

“I know it happened.” I had some recollections of my mother reading or listening to international news in the living room when I was little. Her pale face and wide eyes as she read the papers my father would bring home from MACUSA for her. I remembered her weeping over the survival of the Potter boy.

“It was horrible. People would just disappear, whole families would be found dead in their homes, wizard and muggle. The name, brings up memories… terrible ones. Everyone knows someone who was killed in one fashion or another. We don’t say the name because of the memories of it.”

It seemed it was more than memories. It was a deeply rooted fear that I was not sure I understood. Fear of a thing was tangible, fear of a name was silly and gave it more power. Any current understanding of the events of over twenty years ago I had was from accounts more exaggerated about Voldemort being defeated by an infant and a brushing over of the events that led to such a thing. America’s understanding of the situation was a dark wizard was left to simmer with his followers due to incompetence from the government and Dumbledore perhaps being too old to have another duel with a powerful dark magic practitioner. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t understand that.”

I should apologize.

“It’s fine. You didn’t know.” Eddie smiled and gave my shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Nice job making Percy squeal though!”

I chuckled awkwardly. Eddie gave my shoulder another shake to try and make me feel less embarrassed for this… social disaster. The door opened with a click, I held the door open for Eddie and followed him back into the office.

Percy was hunched over, sorting some papers in his file cabinet and still looking irritated.

Pride was always a fool’s sin. 

I stepped forward and waited quietly for Percy to finish what he was doing. 

“I owe you an apology. I did not know anything about that… Thing. I am sorry I upset you.”

He seemed taken-aback by the apology, his eyes slightly widened behind his glasses at my contriteness. I suspected he was a person who was not used to apologies.  

“Apology accepted." 

He smelled like tea.

Oo0Oo0

After a tense, but almost entertaining dinner with Lucinda where she tried to fix what she referred to as my American eating habit of switching my fork from hand to hand. I must have picked that up at school. Lucinda noticing this led to an evening of decorum courses in her office while she reviewed her account books. 

“Stand up straight,” Lucinda’s stern voice echoed through the library as the books she was having me balance on my head fell to the floor with several loud thuds. “Don’t hunch, do you want to be bent like a tree when you’re old?”

I would have an excuse to admire everyone’s shoes.

“No, Auntie,” I said as I picked up the books.

“Try again.” She resumed her paperwork with the scratching of a quill.

I took a steadying breath and adhered to Lucinda’s wishes. 

Lucinda’s office was a mess of books on law relating to a variety of topics, most related to inheritance law. What she was having me to try to balance on my head like a performing monkey was two tomes about laws in relation to werewolves and a third book about inheritance law. I was uncertain as to why she had any of these. 

I began to walk to the other side of the room, making every effort to not move my neck, shoulders… Nothing but my legs. 

“I was talking to Elizabeth yesterday, she says you’re doing very well at your job.”

“Oh,” I struggled not to move my mouth too much in case it inspired the books to tumble again. “How’s she doing?”

“Her greenhouse is starting to bloom with a new medicinal plants to sent to the potioneers.” 

“That’s good!” My hands touched the opposite wall and I felt a swelling of relief surge through my body before I removed the books from my head. “Do you know what she’s growing?”

“No, I leave the plants too Tavish.”

“Oh…” An effort to bond with Lucinda had been thoughtlessly shot down with blunt words. I willed myself to bounce back to a confident, unflappable state I was beginning to find. Not everyone found herbology interesting after all. “What do you do for fun, Auntie?”

“I read books, mostly law.” She paused before adding. “I was Ministry policy writer before I took over Thornell from your grandfather.”

“So, what was grandpa like?”

“Impulsive, impetuous and had a tendency to woolgather.”

“I see.” My gaze drifted over to the young man in the painting with dark auburn hair and dark blue eyes that reminded me of my own who was watching Lucinda and I with interest. He looked like Lucinda, they had the same thin face and wore glasses. That was where the similarities ended, Callum Ainsley had an easy smile that I often saw as I moved around the house. He would follow me through the pictures once in a while, watching me thoughtfully and leading me to interesting things in the house like an old room that had paintings on the walls that reflected the estate grounds, another time he led me to an beautiful rocking horse for children before disappearing with a wink. He must have been more inclined to joy than his sister.

Alex looked like Grandpa Ainsley. Alex was a grim, intense personality but his smile was crooked in the same way as our grandfather. They had a similar slim build and their hair fell over their foreheads in in the same fashion. It was comforting to see, a reminder that we were actually related to people outside of the Graves family.  

Though the rest of Alex was the spitting image of our father, which I’m sure Alex hated.

“Managing Thornell also gives me great pleasure. It’s nice to continue running the family home.”

“You grew up here and Callum got the house with his family. Is that right?”

“Yes, women get a short shaft in inheritance law and our parents were… pleasant enough for the time. I was older, but the expectation was that I would marry into another pureblood family. My getting a job instead was considered shocking and scandalous.” 

Maybe things were not so different here, my Jack Graves’s highest ambition for me was to be a secretary and marry a prominent politician that I would meet at work. Perhaps someone with enough charisma to be a political ally for him while he mentored any sons I had in politics. Maybe my father was the old soul Vanessa always described him as? Either way, no matter the time, it was impractical to remove half of a workforce because of expectations of children, though magical children had particular needs. Why was it never expected for a man to be more active raising children in the states? 

“I think that’s enough for today.” She closed the account book she was working on with a snap. “You said you were going out with some friends from work?”

“Yes. I’ll be back around eleven.” 

Lucinda nodded and waved me away. My feet moved so quickly I felt myself fly down the steps, barely even stopping for my cloak as I flung a handful of floo powder into the grand fireplace.

“Diagon Alley!”

 Oo0Oo0

The Blasted Bludger was absolutely packed with a raucous party of young Ministry clerks and what appeared to be Quidditch players in their team memorabilia. The crowd was mostly twenty-somethings and the occasional thirty something who was trying to pick up girls of uncertain age. 

The air was hot and stuffy, I pressed myself back against the wall to try and pinpoint the table Misty told me she reserved on the upper floor. 

A familiar head of flaming hair emerged from the crowd as I picked up my drink.

“Oi! Yankee!”

I looked around quickly to find a shock of bright red hair poking out of the swarm of people at the pub. Misty’s bright green eyes were gleaming like a cat’s in the low light of the bar as she leaned against the upstairs railing. She gave me a stunning smile of shiny white teeth that seemed more pointed then any other person’s I had ever seen. She pointed to the staircase that would lead to the balcony table she had reserved. I steeled myself with a deep breath and threw myself into the crowd, trodding on toes on accident and getting elbowed in turn as people stepped on mine to get to the bar. Once I climbed up the stairs Misty’s hair guided me like a beacon to a small table overlooking the lower floor. Misty was with another woman, two full pitchers of butterbeer on the table between them.

Misty jumped into one of the empty chairs and pushed out the other for me with a flick of her wand. I took it eagerly, smiling politely at both women.

“Thank you for inviting me out tonight.”

“No trouble, I wanted to thank you for putting that Jasmine bitch in her place. I’ve never seen her stutter like that!” Misty leaned back in her chair and fanned herself with her hand as she imitated a swooning damsel. “Amazing!”

I laughed and accepted the extended hand of the other woman. 

“I’m Zara West, I play for Harpies.” She was taller than Misty with laughing blue eyes and purple streaks in her dark hair. She wore No-Maj clothes with carefully placed rips and studded bracelets. The kind of clothes I had seen No-Maj’s wearing on the streets and parks. 

“Oh, you play Quidditch?” The words came unbidden from my mouth as I tried to sound educated about my new home. I knew nothing about Quidditch. Just that it was the English version of Quadpot, or perhaps the other way around was more accurate.

“Yep. I’m a Chaser,” She smiled wolfishly. “I’m pretty good too.”

My stomach fluttered at the passing thought that these women might very well become my friends in this strange new country. It was too soon to come to anything conclusive, but they were so friendly and kept my mug topped off from their pitcher, explaining the concept of rounds as a pub tradition when out in a group. 

Zara and Misty kept most of the conversation flowing, along with the drinks. They were from rural communities outside of London, Misty had a large extended family in Nottingham, her father was a blacksmith who made shoes for Abraxens and Zara was from an old coal mining community in the north of England where she was the only one who had magic. I took the opportunity to ask questions about them and practice my story. That I had a large family, one older brother, two younger siblings and far more cousins then I cared to deal with. My father worked in the wand registration office and my stepmother was an elementary school teacher.

“Oh, would you be related to that man who’s talking about a run for MACUSA President then?” My chest tightened. Misty was a bit of a political animal apparently, I filed that note away for later. If she paid that much attention to American politics I would have to be a little more careful.

It was like I had done during my interview with Percy. I only hoped that I sounded more sincere. “Jack Graves? He’s some sort of third cousin of mine, I think. I worked as an intern for him, and I wasn’t impressed.”

That was good. Acknowledge it. Play it off. America is a huge country and family don’t pay each other much mind after the third cousin designation comes into play. 

“Good! His politics are shit.” Misty knocked back the rest of her drink and slammed the mug on the table ready to talk international affairs. I had never seen anyone drink as much as Misty did and keep their wits for sensible conversation. Misty was truly an inspiration to any aspiring social drinker. “No offense.”

“None taken. He didn’t pay me for the job like the other interns.”

“No!” The two women whispered in horrified unison as I nodded in affirmation.

“Yeah, the boys got their money!” The alcohol made me sway in my seat as I pointed in a random direction, almost knocking a pitcher of beer out of a passerby’s hand. “Sorry!”

“You can go to the labor board, right? Get your backpay?” Misty leaned forward, looking deeply into my eyes with a very serious expression. 

I shrugged, “Getting the lawyer for the trimes he owed me is more then I can afford.”  

“How does it work over there anyway?” Zara asked, she was a little more delicate in her drinking, more of a lightweight than Misty, she swayed in her chair, or maybe that was me? “The politics thing?”

“Well, we have a presidential election every seven years, every four would line us up with the No-Mag’s and we like to pay attention to that too. MACUSA’s President acts as a chief diplomatic officer, helps establish new hidden communities for the magical and leads the Aurors in times of war and unrest. They approve or reject laws the rest of the time from the Senate Antechamber.

Misty nodded, “The paper had a segment about MACUSA elections a few years ago before the last one.”

“Speaking of newspapers, a there any local newspapers worth reading?”

Zara threw her head back to finish the last drops of her beer, she slammed the glass on the table with a contented sigh. “The Daily Prophet is the big one, everyone gets that. The rest are more special interest.”

“Like the New York Ghost?” I added before popping a fry in my mouth. 

Misty nodded, “The Egregious Erumpent is a good one, it does a lot of international news and business. Some really niche international stories too.”

“Stay away from the Quibbler, it’s all conspiracies and entertainment.”

“What kind of conspiracies?”

There was an exaggerated eye-roll from Misty, “Crazy stuff. Like Fudge being part of the Rotting Fang conspiracy or some such nonsense, or Sirius Black really being Stubby Boardman!”

Zara was laughing into her beer, her cheeks red as she quietly struggled for air before she managed to wheeze, “That was my favorite!”

I might have to get some subscriptions. The Quibbler sounded fun if nothing else.

“So if I wanted a subscription to the Egregious Erumpent how would I go about that?” I would be good to keep an eye on my father’s presidential ambitions. If I had to lay low for seven years I would like to know in advance.

“The office is somewhere in London, in sight of the bridge I think,” Misty threw her head back and downed the rest of her beer, placing the mug back down on the table with a contented sigh. “Send an owl or head down the office, they’d love to talk to you about whatever is going on in the States.”

“Perfect. I’ll go Monday!”

If my brother was on staff, Monday would be a good day to find him or his boss.

“Is it true you’re working in the Minister’s office with Percy Weasley?” Misty asked suddenly, that last bit of beer apparently giving her a final spark of courage.

I nodded affirmatively, “Yes. He’s… Nice enough.”

The two women exchanged a look and began to laugh. Zara’s forehead coming to rest on the table as her shoulders heaved and shook while Misty’s laugh took a nervous, high cackle that helped turn her cheeks the color of her burnt orange hair. 

“Merlin’s pants! I thought you were pulling Jasmine’s leg! Has anyone told you what happened with the last secretary?”

“No. I heard she retired.” 

Please don’t tell me he killed her and drank her blood like a vampire!

“Retired? Yeah. She wanted to wait another couple of years but she had a roaring fight with Weasley.” Misty was struggling to keep a straight face. Zara was wheezing. “She called him an infant and quit on the spot!”

I started to laugh, as I pictured a grandmotherly figure with a prim white bun and carefully organized office supplies tearing into Percy with a bulldog-like tenacity. I buried my face in my arms as I fell forward onto the table in a giggly, drunken fit. My new goal was going to be not letting Percy drive me into a bottle of scotch through my own embarrassment or his weird personality.

And I was going to continue to spell in the American fashion, Percy could deal with it.

Chapter Text

November 4, 1995

I found myself unable to go to the Egregious Erumpent as soon as I wanted too, Lucinda needed me at her house for various tasks related to sprucing up the place as it was too much for Barry to do alone. I spent the days after work helping Barry air out the old rooms and checking furniture for cracks, dents and fraying cloth while a tender, eager anticipation stirred in my soul. Lucinda wanted to host a tea and open up an older part of the house for the novelty of it, to have a view of the grounds and not be blinded by the sun in the afternoon. She said it was some kind of business deal for her house, that the orchards and the sheep pastures in the back had been moderately productive this year and someone wanted to ask to rent space in the garden for a wedding after seeing pictures in a magazine of Tavish’s work.

Now that that was finished, I was going to go after work today. I hoped Alex enjoyed his alone time, because I had five years of little sister annoyance to make up for!

The full action tackle hug that I used to do to him was off the table, we were both to big for that. Plus he’s almost thirty, I was sure he was starting to get back problems or something he could complain about. He used to pick me up and swing me around whenever he came back from school, Alex was never as grim and dour as he acted, he was most of the time but he never really turned that in my direction. He did it with Annette a bit, but I think for him, Annette was really a symbol of how the family fell apart in his eyes.

I clearly had too much time to mull over my dysfunctional relatives.

My anticipation for a family reunion on this beautiful cloudy day would not be dimmed. I stepped out of the lift and walked down the hallway towards the Minister’s Office with a three day old copy of the New York Ghost tucked under my arm that I had obtained from a recycling bin by the International Trade Office. I was a few minutes early and would have plenty of time to read that devastating headline.

Candidates Announced for Primary Election 

This did not bode well at all. 

I opened the door to the office to find an unusual scene for such an early morning. 

The Minister was outside his office with next to Eddie’s desk, holding a letter in front of him as if he were preparing to make a great speech. 

"Potter's done it now!" He waved a paper about with a glee that reminded me of a Depression Era paperboy. His robes billowed out behind him as he began to pace about the room. Eddie looked up from his paper and Percy from his quick revision of the Minister's itinerary.

"What's happened now? Did he curse someone?" Eddie's vaguely lazy tone was unmistakable.

"No, no, got involved in a fistfight over a Quidditch match with some other students. Dolores has banned him for life!" He gave the paper to Percy who skimmed it quickly, Fudge’s tone was giddy or something close to it. “Leading the pack no doubt!”

“Absolutely, Minister! He always was a horrible influence on the other students.”

Toady.

Minister Fudge had always been nice to me, but he from the obvious pleasure he took in this he was not a kind person. I don't expect kindness from political leaders, I knew better. Elihu Weathers was a kind man during his tenure as a senator, he would not have made it onto the public stage so quickly if he was not kind enough to righteous. I shook my head, getting off the thoughts of the chain of events that had led to Weathers election. It was too close to home, too heavy to think about, instead turning my attention to a manageable present.

If these people wanted to start their day bullying a child, that was on them. I sat down at my desk and opened the New York Ghost with a knitted brow and a sick feeling in my stomach.

Candidates Announced for Primary Election 

The Virtus Party has announced their primary candidates in Senator Ismelda Wolf of Georgia and Senator Jack Graves of New York have both announced their intentions to run for party representative, the winner will take on President Astrid Cunningham of the Populi Party in the July 7th Election next year.

"I eagerly anticipate the opportunity to debate with fellow party members and representatives over the next several weeks as the people decide who best represents their interests on the national and global stage." Senator Wolf spoke Thursday at a Town Hall meeting in her home town of Atlanta. “The world is changing and new threats to the Statute of Secrecy emerge every day, we must be ready to meet these changes to preserve our way of life.” 

"I look forward to debating with my friend and colleague Senator Wolf over the coming weeks, we have both been preparing for this election and wish to see changes for the magical community of the United States." Senator Graves said at a press conference outside of his Senate Office on Friday. "With all of these threats, both foreign and domestic knocking on our door, the people need a President who can offer them security and while representing American interests abroad and security for our allies.” 

The Primary election will be held on March 3rd. The first primary debate between Senators Wolf and Graves will be held next week on all news stations at 7pm eastern time.

Okay. It was happening.

I was not sure who my father or Senator Wolf would pick for a vice president, they were old friends and may just ask the other to help secure support. President Cunningham was from California, her vice president, Martin Howard was from Michigan for the Midwest representation she needed to secure her victory seven years ago. Geographically, the Graves/Wolf ticket in either order would work, but father may pick an old ally of his from Oklahoma, Miguel Martinez. Martinez taking the vice presidential position would leave the governor position to Vice Governor, Asha Hart to finish the term. That would make her the first Cheyenne Governor in the US and maybe secure sizable support from the indigenous community by proxy.

Yeah. I think father was already talking to Miguel Martinez and helping prepare Asha Hart for what could be her new role. Good for her! Though I could feel my blood pressure rising the more I thought about my father's real chance of winning this election.

I flipped the page to the full page spread about Ismelda Wolf and her family. She was a blonde woman in her early sixties, tall and professional looking with a warm, grandmotherly smile. Her husband ran a roofing business, they had two sons and five grandchildren aged four to fifteen. I read about their values of family and how the family business was enjoying the generational experience of the two sons coming onboard, how close Ismelda was to her daughters-in-law and how much she enjoyed being a grandmother when she was not tied up in New York taking part in running the country.

I set the paper down for a minute, I was scared to turn the page. I knew my father's spread and history was next and I was not sure I wanted to see it.

But I had too. It was like a train wreck, I couldn’t bring myself to look away.

The mens chatter about the politics of Harry Potter faded to a low hum in my ears as I took a deep breath and turned to the proper page of the paper.

I felt my eyes skim the article.

It was the usual trite. Jack Graves was a good, devoted family man. A father of four. Married to Vanessa Graves nee Smythe, a known volunteer and philanthropist, for over ten years. 

I finished the introduction turn the page to be treated to a recent picture of the family. Vanessa was sitting down in a chair while holding baby Aldridge who was wearing little pinstripe robes. His blond hair parted to the side like a little politician and looking like a smaller, blonder, image of his father. Annette and my father were both standing, Jack Graves was straight backed and resting his hand on the back of Vanessa's chair looking very much a distinguished political figure. 

Annette was smiling off on the other side of our father, dressed in deep blue robes that offset her dishwater blonde hair and fair complexion. Her lips were pressed together in a tight, awkward smile.

I remembered Annette grasping our father's arm to stop him from coming around the table to get in range of me. 

The article continued.

Annette Graves had been sorted into Wampus House, like her father, on the first of September to begin her education at Ilvermorny where she was already proving to be a standout student. 

Aldridge was beginning to speak full sentences and had just displayed his first bit of magic, summoning cookies off the counter and into his playpen.

My father had claimed that Alex was working overseas for a foreign paper and would say no more about it out of respect for his privacy. A claim that made me want to laugh. 

When asked about me, Jack claimed that I was visiting family abroad while doing an internship and requested privacy. He made it sound like I got pregnant and was sent away to hide the shame of it like it was the forties. The excuse was good, I wondered which of his advisors had come up with that one? Probably Rhodes, he was a weasel of a man with connections to Wand Way, a pseudo religious group that encouraged extensive procreation to eventually outnumber the No-Majs. Therefore the girls were solely educated in household spells at home while the boys learned a trade to eventually support their own large families. 

I met Rhodes in my father's office a few times and before I left he started bringing his eldest son with him to talk with me for an hour while Rhodes dealt with my father. The son was as dumb and self-righteous as the father, looking back I'm pretty sure they thought I would be malleable enough to bring into the fold through marriage. Giving the son political connections that Rhodes could not make on his own for his fundamentalist views.

If I married at all, I was not going to offer connections, I wanted someone who could get where he wanted to go without using me as a crutch or collateral. Even estranged from my father, my family name was enough to find anything I needed back in the states. At least here I had a chance of living a quiet life.

I turned my attention back to the article. 

Vanessa looked every bit the part of a political wife. Beautiful and smiley clad in beautiful robes and jewelry. She spoke of promotions for the charity group she ran for children's literacy and library access. That the ability to read would always be of value to help the less fortunate rise from poverty or hard circumstances. 

I had never seen Vanessa pick up a book, let alone read one.

Annette seemed to have grown a couple of inches in my absence, I remembered her as being shorter than this picture implied. Always following me about and talking about famous duels and the powerful, evil wix who necessitated those conflicts. Annette also had an interest in serial killers who used elaborate rituals in their crimes. She once told me she wanted to be an Auror. I hoped that her parents had not crushed that interest in the name of image and politics.

I kind of missed the little ghoul.

If I leaned away from the picture and did not focus on it too hard it became more of a picture of the perfect American family with Alex and I finally out of the picture. 

Maybe I should have stuck it out just to make Vanessa angry and blow up the whole campaign? No, I would not have lasted that long. 

My father discussed his plans to lower taxes, and improve our separation from No-Majs through improved security. I was not sure what the logic of that was, though magic and spells were not a finite resource. He spoke of more support for the schools, more elaborate spells to help hide them from wandering No-Majs, as something called backpacking was on the rise and deep wood hunters who kept encountering or actively trying to find an elusive, escaped Bigfoot who remained a security issue. Referencing that MACUSA did not need yet another Sasquatch sighting or a repeat of the Mothman incident from 1966.

I needed more details on my fake family.

A thought came over me like a shower of cold water. How long could I keep this up? How long before somebody noticed? How long did I have of being a nameless nobody before somebody found me out? 

I closed the newspaper, placing it on the desk as the rest of the office fell to a low hum of noise around me as I sunk into my thoughts.

My father had announced his run for MACUSA president. It was official. I heaved a heavy sigh of defeat. I was going to have to make some decisions. If they ran my picture as part of a more detailed family expose, I would have to get ahead of that. Thankfully, my most recent public photo was from my father's senate run from when I was about 13 and Vanessa had dressed me like a grieving matron in black with an itchy lacy collar. With my long black hair that photo made me look… Well… Dead. I doubted Vanessa would give them a more recent photo like my graduation picture. 

I loathed the idea of cutting my hair off, if any recent pictures of me left the family home for the sake of my father's image I would cut it. Keeping it pulled back away from my face would do for now. I was getting better at emulating the local accent. If I was ever confronted by a particularly nosy journalist, I would do my best impression of Percy at his most pretentious.

In a moment of self interest, I turned the newspaper into a pack of tissues and shoved them into a desk drawer. Nothing I could do now but wait and hope for a crushing defeat.

Oo0Oo0

The Egregious Erumphet was situated in a small building off the Thames River. The air was cold and seemed to go straight through my bones. I double checked the address before walking up to the oak door with an Erumphet knocker.

"I'm looking for one of your reporters called Alex Ainsley, is he in?"

The door knocker blinked twice and opened the door with a creak. I slipped inside as a group of No-Majs walked by, entirely unaware of the building's presence in the world. The door clicked shut behind me as the roar of an active newspaper assaulted my senses with the smell of warm paper, the continuous hooting of owls and the reporters yelling at each other from across the room as they fixed and edited their stories.

I looked at the reporters in my line of sight trying to see if any of them could be my brother. I saw a man with blond hair arguing with a redheaded woman. A man with black hair caused me to start before he turned his face towards me curiously. No. My brother had a different nose, less hawkish.

"Can I help you?" I turned to find a young Asian man with a ponytail and a silver stud in his left ear. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up revealing a detailed tattoo of a tiger on his right arm and a dragon on his left. Both were swirling around his arms in an elaborate dance, moving up under his shirt sleeves and back into view.

"I'm looking for Alex Graves," the man raised an eyebrow, "he wrote articles for this paper a few months ago under the name Alex Ainsley."

"Oh, Graves? Yeah he was here but he's moved on."

Oh.

The man stuck out his hand. "I'm Duri Park, owner and editor of this paper."

"Audrey Graves." We shook hands quickly and the editor quickly invited me to the back of the building away from the bustle at the front, leading me into a room that seemed to be his office.

"What brings you here for Graves?” Duri Park summoned a chair for me while he half sat, half leaned against his desk.

"He's my brother, we lost touch a few years ago and I'm here trying to track him down."

“Really? He mentioned a sister but I thought you would be older.”

“Yeah, I’m nine years younger.” 

I think I only existed as the result of my parents trying to fix a marriage that was already coming apart. 

“You were really the only person he talked about from the U.S. and even then it was not much. He was very focused on his work and spent most of his time out of the office tracking stories.” 

"I see," I drummed my fingers on the arm of the chair. "How long did he write for your paper?"

“About five years, not consistently thought. Graves is a bit of a jumper, too independent to tie himself down for too long but he's a damn good reporter. My paper does a lot of deep investigating work, political news needs some background for people to understand what they are reading in the present or why a decision was made. If Alex got an itch or a lead on something that could be interesting between here and Germany he'd ask if I thought it had legs. Usually he was right on the money."

"What kinds of things did he investigate for you?"

"Underground dueling rings, cults, political scandals and financial fraud and general big interest pieces. He did a great piece on the Triwizard Tournament last year, even interviewed Dumbledore before he lost his marbles. Very versatile, I like that in a journalist."

I allowed myself a smile. That sounded like Alex.

“Do you know where he lives?”

Duri exhaled, resting his chin on his hand for a moment as he thought. “To be honest, I really don’t know, he was incredibly private. I think he lives here in London, but he could be in the city proper or got a place in the suburbs outside of town.”

“I see… Could I have copies of the articles he wrote for the paper?"

"Sure! We have an archive at the end of the hall. I'll take you there myself." Duri stood up and motioned for me to follow him, leading me down the hall to a room with a large door and another Erumpent door knocker.

"Password?"

"Changes everyday."

The door knocker nodded and opened the door with a creak allowing Duri and I to step into a room full of filing cabinets.

"I keep copies of everything this paper has published by the reporter's penname. I plan to hold them in an archive for thirty years, just in case anyone needs them for law drafts or something." He played with his earring and smiled at me. I was too fixated on watching his tattoo's dance along his arms. "Use a copy charm on whatever you want to take. Lemme know if you need anything!" He waved and stepped out the door with a grin.

I looked at the row of filing cabinets ahead of me and heaved a sigh. Alright. This was it. If I could find some kind of lead on my brother it would be here. If not a lead to his home, then at least places where he would have met people, maybe one of them would remember him if it was a recent article.

I pulled open the Ainsley file cabinet and got to work.

Oo0Oo0

I left the room an hour later with an astounding number of articles in my arms. My brother had clearly been very busy with topics as varied as werewolf rights and policies around the world, the overreach of supposed superpower states, the political scandal of a Ministry employee named Barty Crouch, and more recently an American diplomat who had gotten into bar fight after a history of drunken shenanigans. There were other articles about other topics.

Though, the article I was most interested in was from the Triwizard Tournament that Alex had covered over the course of year as a series about the history of the event, its reinstatement and the tragic conclusion of its more recent iteration. I had read sections of the series while I was working for MACUSA, but the whole piece was so well done I would have to read it as a whole. The interview with Dumbledore was long and engaging about the history of the tournament and the matter of its reinstatement. My brother had interviewed one of the greatest wizards of the century about a school tournament! That was really amazing!

I popped my head into Duri Park's office, he was hunched over his desk apparently editing one of his reporter's pieces.

“Duri,” he sat up in his chair and gave me a smile. "Thank you so much for letting me into your archive room! I didn't know Alex was so versatile or that he did so much writing for your paper."

"Glad to help, if you need any more copies just let me know and I'll have the researcher pull them for you."

I agreed to the proposition and Duri escorted me to the front door leaving me with a bundle of papers and my own thoughts.

The most recent article was from the final task of the Triwizard Tournament, which improved my timeline. From his early writings with the Egregious Erumpent, Alex would write two to four small articles a week, though he would disappear and not publish with the paper for a few months and come back with a very long research piece or suddenly write smaller pieces again. I assumed that he would write for other small papers during this period. Though, his last article was published on July third a few days after the disastrous Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament. I did not get to read this originally, it did not seem to make it stateside, but one of his articles for the Modernist was published a couple of weeks later about an issue of financial fraud and overseas banking.

The more I examined the articles I had collected, more of a pattern emerged. Alex was a pot stirrer. He liked to focus on topics that would make people angry or where he could do a lot of investigating and undercover work. His topics were more liberal than what was ever discussed at the kitchen table at the Byrgen House. These were at heart, the kind of articles designed to make enemies. Rich, powerful enemies. 

It was like he was still a teenage boy rebelling against our father.

I had a flash of memory from when Alex left home five years ago and quickly pushed it back down along with the wave of nausea that came with it. The memory still leaving a bitter, acidic taste in my mouth. A memory worsened by time and understanding of the accusations.

With all of these things happening in the world, where was Alex working now? 

I could not ignore the idea of him being censored, maybe blacklisted for being unwilling to play by the rules of a country who had more direct control over their press the way I had seen in the Minister’s office over the last couple of weeks. I could not ignore the idea of Alex retreating to a country where there was a value on the free press, where he could keep an eye on things in Britain but not potentially be arrested for dissent and radicalism. 

If Alex had done all of those investigations of dangerous organizations abroad, then that put a wench in my idea of him running off to hide. He would want to be close to a place where a young boy was claiming a dark wizard had returned from the dead. Any reporter worth their salt would want to at least be nearby and wait for the storm to break that would either prove Potter correct or see a teenage boy sent to the insane asylum. 

Chapter Text

November 10th, 1995

Vanessa had always kept me away from parties, leaving me to babysit her children with Tinsy the House-Elf if I was home for the holidays. I would sneak out and watch for a few minutes on the top of the staircase, the women wore beautiful robes and dresses, several of the men were handsome in that traditional aspiring politician way and commanding in a way that reminded me too much of my father. I had always been careful to not be seen, but sometimes I would make eye contact with Senator Elihu Weathers and his wife Elaine, he would give me a wink before transfiguring a napkin into a dove to give me a bag of candy.

Those parties were big standing room affairs with dancing and people, rich people with the ability to donate massive amounts of money to any politician's campaign with a snap of their fingers. A famous goblin investor and his family often attended these events, his approval could start careers of any floundering politician. Also the widow Snyder, she outlived three husbands, all of them had very well off businesses that only grew under her management after she combined them into a major conglomerate.

The parties Lucinda wanted to bring me to seemed different. They were not as busy as the one's Vanessa had hosted, there seemed to be less echo and there was a group of well dressed young children who were having an adventure of sorts outside in the grove of trees in front of the house. There was tea, small appetizers, sparkling wine and a group of less than thirty well dressed people drifting about and talking quietly with one another. 

Lucinda kept her voice low as I leaned down to listen to her observations and introductions. 

"There's the Fudges, you know them already and they're hosting. We'll say hello in a few minutes. That lion looking man is Rufus Scrimgeour, he is the Head Auror. That woman in the blue by the drinks is Una Irvine, she has an apothecary shop and works closely with Elizabeth Fudge on various projects." I nodded, taking mental notes about the people Lucinda took notice of.

"Ah, there's the Malfoy's. Fashionably late as ever." She paused and looked at me for the hundredth time from the top of my head to the soles of my dress shoes. "They have a son in school about three years younger than you."

"Oh, really?" I felt like she was implying something, but I was not too sure I wanted to probe it any further or come to a cynical conclusion. "How nice."

"Mr. Malfoy has an interest in foreign education, they almost sent the boy to Drumstrang. Well, the wife did not like that at all."

Mrs. Malfoy seemed a sensible sort of woman. 

"I'm sure you can find something to talk about with the Malfoys. I'm sure the husband would be quite taken with anything you can tell him about the state of the magical population back in the States."

I nodded again, mentally going through topics that may be of interest and immediately discarding several for being controversial or needing too much explanation. 

"Lucinda," I asked as a House Elf offered me a delicate fruit pastry no larger than a knut. "Thank you. Why are we here?"

"We're here to make nice with the right sort of people. People I think you should know."

That was not helpful and sounded… I wasn't sure I had the word for it. Oh, snobby. That was it.

"Can you explain what that means?" Lucinda looked at me as if I should know, her lips pressed together and her glasses sliding down her nose. She elbowed my side and turned to the door where more people where coming in. “Do you see the young man there? The tall one?”

I nodded.

“That is Harrow Avery.”  

Harrow Avery looked, well, birdlike. He had a beaky nose, weak chin and dark eyes and his bright robes reminded me of a peacock. His brown hair was perpetually falling in his face.

Lucinda leaned over to whisper in my ear. "He is the one who technically gets my house after I'm dead. That whole family is circling like vultures. If I have my way, that lot will never see even a dust bunny."

"How are they related exactly?" I whispered, angling slightly towards Lucinda to better hide my mouth from anyone who was watching.

Your great-grandfather's sister married the Avery family's only son. So he's some kind of distant cousin of yours. The inheritance of the house is a matter of tracing the family line to the nearest boy from the last true born son.”

Isolt's wand, these people think like my father!

"Since we can't produce a whole house of boys like the Weasley's, we need to know when to make allowances. There can be alterations made to pass to a maternal line, but it takes a lot of time and needs to be done properly so nobody can fight about it." Lucinda paused. "We can skip a generation, find a few cousins and pick the one that won't waste the opportunity, but I would need the consent of the supposed heir and for him to sign the paperwork for both of those options.”

“What if there are no male heirs available?”

“Well, if they all die sudden horrible deaths, then it goes to the eldest daughter in decent. Which in this scenario is you.”

Skip a generation… Avery wouldn't get a thing if Alex could be found, but from what I understood about my brother, I doubted he was the settling down in a large house type. Alex always left for Ilvermorny with a single suitcase to last a year unless father made him come home for some reason. 

"The Avery's have money and social connections, but are land poor. I have a lot of land and entailed property.”

"What was that about the Weasels?"

The Weasley's," Lucinda corrected. "They're an old pureblood family of blood traitors, they love muggles and are notorious for having a ridiculous amount of sons. Though I think there is a single daughter in the latest batch. You should know this, you work with one of them.”

I thought Percy was an only child, so that was a bit surprising. We did not talk about much about anything other than work and have what Eddie referred to as squabbles about filing. 

I pictured having only brothers for a moment, putting together every story my roommates in school had told me about their families and siblings. The older brothers who should sit on their sisters to be annoying. The perpetual fighting and wrestling, the bad ideas involving ramps that ended in broken limbs.

Yikes. That poor girl.

It was decided. I would only have girls, one or two, if I could have any say in it at all. It seemed to promise a quieter home life. 

“Weasley’s have blood status, but they have no real connections.” Lucinda peered down at me, her glasses glimmering from the light of the light behind her. “Most of the boys I think are around your age, but I think you can do much better than a Weasley boy. You’re not desperate.”

I thought about the lovely color of Percy’s hair and wondered if his siblings had the same particular shade. 

“Oh, smile! We have to play nice.” Lucinda jammed her elbow into my side as Harrow Avery walked over. 

“Cousin Lucinda,” Harrow Avery gave Lucinda a courteous bow, “It has been a long time.”

“It has, little Harrow is all grown up. How is your father?” 

“As well as can be expected, he’s been donating to new medical research for children.”

“How magnanimous of him,” Lucinda smiled but it did not seem to reach her eyes though Harrow did not seem to notice. She motioned towards me, “Harrow, this is my great-niece, Audrey Graves. One of your American cousins.”

Harrow extended a courteous bob of his head to me with a smile. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” I smiled and got a better look at this cousin. He was over thirty, closer to Alex’s age than my own and had an air of excessive politeness around him. Just a very pleasant air, though I had met men like this my whole life and it made me weary of him. He came across as bland, uninteresting and I could understand why Lucinda despised leaving Thornell to him.

He spoke with us for a few minutes before he was called away by another man about age, bidding us a farewell.

“You’re bypassing his father for the inheritance?”

“His father got into some… trouble during the first war. I used a loophole to skip his father in the line of inheritance. Plus, his father is my age. I intend to outlive him anyway and told him as much.”

Lucinda was a cold, ruthless policy wonk and I wondered how high she would have climbed if she had stayed with the Ministry.

Elizabeth Fudge flounced over in her pastel green dress robes with a smile and pulled me into a hug. She smelled like flowers and her perfume lingered in the air after she pulled away. 

"I'm so happy you both made it! Audrey, you look lovely!"

"Thank you, Mrs Fudge. I love your dress robes!"

"You're very sweet! I would love to show you some of the plants I'm growing in the greenhouse out back after dinner. The snipping soapwart is particularly feisty, it tried to take off one of Cornelius' fingers."

Lucinda looked like she was restraining her horror. I wrung my hands excitedly as I agreed to take a look. I love a mildly dangerous plant with finger ripping potential.

The three of us talked for a few minutes about the various plants in the greenhouse until she was called away to make polite talk with other guests. Lucinda found herself engaged with a former schoolmate of hers and I was left to my own devices. I decided to amble around the main room and admire the paintings, traditionalist art in an impressionist style with colors and shapes of people and places that left me feeling like I had I was somewhere else for a time. 

“Lovely painting,” a woman said from behind me. “Quintin Upton has always done marvelous work.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of him, but I’ve never actually seen any of his paintings in person before.”

The woman gave me a look and a tight smile. “You must be the American.” 

I nodded in affirmation and introduced myself.

“Narcissa Malfoy.” I noticed the large, glimmering diamonds on her ears. ”Madam Ainsley says you are one of her American relatives?" Mrs. Malfoy was a very pretty woman with pale yellow hair, alabaster skin and very much looked like the politician's wives back in the States. 

"Yes, Madam Ainsley is my great-aunt," I smiled politely. " I haven't had a chance to see her as much as I would have liked growing up but I am glad to get the opportunity now."

Mrs. Malfoy nodded thoughtfully, though it seemed a more routine response than actual engagement. "How is society back in your country?"

Something about how she said society made my hair stand on end, like there was something I could not quite grasp. 

"I'm afraid I don't understand the question." 

"Oh, tell me about your family."

This was it. This was the moment. I had practiced the lie in front of my mirror with such conviction I had almost believed it myself. I could not hide myself from the larger Graves family, but I could downplay it.

"My father works for the government in wand regulations, and my stepmother is a teacher for magical children."

"And the rest of your family?" 

Very nosy woman.

"A lot of my relatives work for the MACUSA as Aurors and in other law enforcement divisions. My cousin is going to take his final exam next year."

"That must be exciting. So your family are all wizards?"

This conversation felt… gross. I could feel the prodding of a memory about the Rapport Law and the decades of protest to repeal it to allow for a wix to marry or intermingle with the nonmagical. There was still social backlash for marrying or having any interaction with No-Majs, so they were kept quiet. I had never actually met a No-Maj, they were mythical in a way, like snow in Florida.  

She seemed to take my silence as an affirmative with a slight smile that reminded me of a cat getting into the cream. It also reminded me of Vanessa in a moment of triumph.

"There's the Goyles, this has been a lovely talk Ms. Graves, and I can't wait to continue it over dinner.”

She moved away in a grand movement like a queen or a duchess, taking the arm of a tall man with long blond hair and whispering in his ear. 

I felt like I had done something right in her eyes, but it left a bad taste in my mouth, the successful interaction tasting of ash and bad coffee.

Oo0Oo0

When it was time for dinner, I found myself sitting next to Mrs Fudge and Una Irvine, the pair of them making quick discussions of plants and medical uses. Mostly how hard it was to get seeds for essential products during this time of year due to a shortage from Brazil. Mrs. Fudge was quick to ask my views on American horticulture and potential replacements. 

Una Irvine was delightful, she had an immense knowledge of plants and wildlife after spending her formative years in Australia and New Zealand before studying at a wildlife center in the United States. She then proclaimed that Australia was where God and Merlin had left their more questionable creations, which made me giggle.

Across from Mrs. Fudge and I were the Malfoys. The wife seemed very bored by the three-way discussion on plant life and medicinals, looking at the three of us in turn before turning her attention to her husband's discussion with the Minister about politics.

Mrs. Fudge was the first to notice that we were probably being a bit rude and quickly changed the subject. "Narcissa, how are your renovations on your house going? I heard you were doing something with the field behind your house?"

"A temporary enclosure for the peacocks while we do some work in front of the house next summer.”

Peacocks?

She noticed my confusion and gave me a wry smile. "We have a flock of albino peacocks who roam the estate. They are lazy birds and the only albino peacocks in England." Despite her expression of disinterest, I did think she sounded very fond of those birds, affectionate disinterest would be an accurate description. Like a person who had barn cats and knew they were a creature that could never be owned.

Though, no person truly owned a cat.

The dinner continued on. 

And on.

At a snail’s pace.

“Water, Miss?” A house elf squeaked at my elbow. 

“Yes, thank you, Gordy,” I held my glass out for the elf and his heavy water pitcher with a smile. Gordy seemed taken aback before his mouth pulled back in an awkward smile. 

“You don’t have to thank the help,” Mrs. Malfoy’s voice was a low snooty whisper that only caught the attention of those in our immediate vicinity. 

Gordy looked at ground so quickly as he was willing it to swallow him. I realized I had the attention of my section of the table. I focused on maintaining a serene expression, ignoring the confused expressions and judgmental stares from those a couple of seats away. I was not afraid. Lucinda thanked Barry all the time. Tinsy was less a housekeeper or servant, and more of a constant employee who was waiting to retire. No, employees were paid. Tinsy was a slave to the family and the magic that bound her to the house. I wondered what she was doing now?

“Sorry, force of habit when you’re from a country without a servant class. Manners are for everybody and all of that.”

There was an odd silence from the rest of the table and I looked back at Gordy with a soft smile. 

For the rest of the meal, even if I was politely ignored as an uppity, foreign oddity, my glass of water remained consistently full and my favored appetizers were always within reach.

Oo0Oo0

After dinner, I found myself lead away down a small hallway to a small office with an assortment of shelves containing various small boxes and baskets of seasonal seeds next to books on plant life cycles. The wall was a pale green and a small oak desk sat in the center of the room in front of a large window where I could see the greenhouse. 

"I'm terribly sorry about not finding time to meet with you sooner." Minister Fudge ushered me into the office with his wife leading the way. "I'm sure you know that everything has been busy, no more than usual, you understand, just more chaotic."

"It's not a problem," I smiled as I took the offered seat as the Minister took his seat on the other side of the desk Mrs. Fudge put silencing charms on the door and made sure it was closed. "I understand completely."

Mrs. Fudge moved to stand next to her husband with a carefully guarded expression before offering me a gentle smile. She seemed frail in a way, a tiredness in her eyes that reminded me of my mother.  

The Minister spoke first. “I got an American newspaper from one of the ambassador's yesterday. I assume you've read it already?"

"Yes." I took a moment to prepare myself. "If you wish to engage with my father, Minister, I will be of no use to you. Jack Graves and I are no longer on speaking terms."

He seemed taken aback by this admission, and almost amused by it.  

"No, no, not at all."

This conversation had just gone off script. I was expecting him to tell me to reach back out and play the dutiful daughter. An estrangement over something so silly as a callous father was nothing in comparison to the other things that could tear a family asunder.

Jack Graves clearly had the gall to try and hide it entirely by making it sound like I had run off to hide a pregnancy. The best thing he had ever done for me, I think.

"Elizabeth told me everything, we just wanted me to ask how you were doing."

I felt an eyebrow rise in confusion. "I'm alright. I knew Jack was going to run, but not on such a scale. No chance he'll win though."

"Really?" Mrs. Fudge inquired as she moved her hand to rest on the back of her husband’s chair. 

"He's got enemies, you know you make all kinds of you work in politics long enough. He has some pretty vicious ones, and over twenty years in the public eye is not going to help him at all."

Also, Astrid Cunningham was a sitting incumbent President. This would be her second campaign, this time to keep her seat after a fairly successful governance. Incumbents tenet to have an advantage unless they had really screwed up somewhere or the opponent was a more engaging, forceful personality. 

Elections for MACUSA President were run over the course of a year. There was always preemptive speculations about which politicians would take the presidential plunge in the two years before an election year. Interested parties would do this in many different forms, generally they would do more town hall events and give more speeches on the floor to gage the reaction of the people and the party that supported them. Why only a year? There was an election at the start of the century that had primaries that lasted for three years. The smartest thing we did as a magical community was to decide that politicians should have a ready platform, say their peace in five months of grueling campaigning and then let the people vote for the candidate who annoyed them the least.

Besides, No-Majs had far more people to woo on political matters. 

Minister Fudge smiled, seemingly entertained by my cynicism. "You may have a point."

I sat in every offered seminar about the MACUSA politics and its history offered at Ilvermorny from the time I was fifteen. It was enough to improve my cynicism on political matters, and offer me enough knowledge to build my arguments, even if I never voiced them. Senator LeHay, who gave those biyearly lectures, had introduced me to the political philosophers of Mary Lou Hardy, Gerald St. Germain and Francoise Layfayette all spoke of the voting process and the ideals of a truly balanced and equal government. 

Hardy often voiced the improvements to the current system and how we had ignored the magical contributions of various immigrant, native and slave communities in our efforts to grow spiritually closer to 'Mother England' and their idea of civilized magic.

"On that note, Ms. Graves, I wanted to let you know that should Jack Graves win the election, if you want to quietly transfer to another department or leave the Ministry, I'm sure we can write you a good letter of recommendation."

This idea was a good one, but his expression was strained like he was losing a good connection. Something told me this was more of an offer from Elizabeth Fudge then from the Minister of Magic.

That idea was quickly confirmed by Mrs. Fudge’s pleasant smile at her husband that seemed to wither him slightly with a shadow of guilt on his brow. Something told me there had been an argument about the matter and the wife had come out victorious. I bet she never even raised her voice.

"That would be lovely, Minister. I'll let you should the event come to pass."

"I believe you've told Smith and Weasley that Jack Graves is your cousin?"

"Yes. It seemed easier. I want to build a life here and I can't do that with Jack's shadow hanging over me while he talks from the political stage."

"If anyone questions it, I'll support your story."

I felt my eyes widen in shock. That was more than I expected. 

Mrs. Fudge’s hands were all over this. She professed to not liking politics or being the wife of a Minister, but she clearly knew how to get her husband in her corner on things she wanted in her quiet way. 

"Thank you, for all of that." My eyes moved from the Minister and to his wife who gave me a nod of acknowledgement. “This was far more than I expected on the matter.”

“Ms. Graves, you do have some right to privacy.” The Minister said, his tone almost fatherly. “I mean, your father is not a Ministry politician but we do see where you would have some valid concerns on the matter.”

“No one really pays any mind to the family of an American presidential candidate here, they’ll see a picture in the paper as a one off event but unless he wins, I’m not too worried.”

Except for people like Misty who are little political animals.

I allowed my thoughts to drift for a moment, “Is there anyone in the office who would have an interest in International Affairs?”

“Well, I stole Weasley from the Department of International Magical Cooperation-”

Oh, hell!

“But you have no reason to worry, he’s very…” He paused and fished for the right word.

“Persnickety,” his wife contributed with a quick laugh.

“That’s perfect! Thank you Eliza.”

Elizabeth Fudge beamed as Minister Fudge turned his attention back to me. “Percy is very persnickety about what papers he reads. He reads the national papers for me and brings me the headlines if they have things I need to respond too in an official capacity or recommend a correction. I find my mornings vastly improved by the experience, hard to believe I went so long without a personal assistant to handle to more pointless aspects of my job.”

I’m sure Percy is too smart to spend his life as a parchment pusher. Intellectually. Maybe not socially. 

The Minister stood up from the desk with a paternal smile. “I’m afraid I’ve promised the Malfoy’s a few more minutes of my time.”

“I’ll find you if I need you.” Mrs. Fudge gave him a bright smile as he squeezed her hand affectionately before stepping out from behind the desk. 

“Audrey, if you need anything at all please let either of us know.” 

“Of course, sir. Thank you.”

Mrs. Fudge motioned me over to a cabinet as the door closed behind the Minister. “I found some things I want to show you.”

“Really?”

She pulled a small box out of the cabinet and laid it on the desk, taking off the top with a soft smile. 

“I found some pictures of your mum when she was in school, I thought you might like them.” Mrs. Fudge pulled a photo album out of the box and handed it to me with a smile. 

My hands felt like they were no longer attached to my body, that they were moving of their own accord with their own mind as I opened the photo album with bated breath.

By the Twelve, I looked just like her. 

Lucina Ainsley had a warm smile and would turn to hide her laughter if her photo caught you staring for too long. Her eyes were bright and cheery, not the sad expression I remembered from my childhood when she was dying slowly and my father had found her replacement. Her sandy blonde hair was long like mine, only pulled back in a long single braid down her back.

“She was so quiet, but she had this very dry sense of humor that made me laugh, even in the middle of a professor’s lecture.” Elizabeth laughed quietly at the memory. “Pretty typical of a Ravenclaw, they’re very smart and quietly sarcastic.” She smiled at me as I turned the page, my throat tight. “A lot like you actually.”

There was another of her in Herbology Class avoiding the vines of a particularly irate plant. A picture of her and several other girls in a brilliantly blue and bronze room lined with books and statues. My mother made occasional silly faces before fixing her wavy blonde hair, pushing it out of her face with a coy expression.

My eyes grew watery. “…Thank you.”

My father had ruined this girl. 

Lucina Ainsley was a happy person, she told jokes and made snide funny comments to her friends and wanted to see the world. Instead my father tied her down to his political career, being the perfect political wife and replaced her with a younger, healthier woman before she was even dead because at that point Lucina Graves was an inconvenience.

I had loathed my father for the wrong he had done my mother for years, but the real depravity of his actions was beginning to sink in.

I had no memory of my mother being happy.

Jack Graves ruined things. He would force the world and the people within it to bend to his will or fall apart from the fight of defiance. I saw what happened when my brother defied him. I knew what would have happened to me if Annette had not reached out and stopped him.

Time was always the best of teachers. 

And time was teaching me that my father was worth the same hate and apathy that he himself was capable of.

“Oh, one more thing.”

“Ma’am?”

“Please call me Elizabeth.” 

“I would like that.”

“Good. My offer still stand to come see what has been growing in the greenhouse if you have the time.”

I wiped my eyes and nose with an offered tissue and decided that no matter what I thought of her husband, Elizabeth Fudge was among the finest of women.

“I have all the time in the world.”

Chapter Text

November 15, 1995

“No, Clark, I’m afraid Audrey’s running an errand to the records office.” Percy’s droll tones kept me in the file room across from the Minister’s office. I kept my ear pressed against the closed door to listen to the conversation while clutching a collection of files that Percy needed to do a project for the Minister. 

Nobby Clark Junior was a persistent young man, he was the same young man who thought I had been in the country for four hours one my first day and apparently became very taken with me. He displayed this by personally coming up to run errands for the Beast, Being and Spirit division at least once a week in order to chat with me for a few minutes, annoying Percy in the process who would remind Nobby Junior that he could just send a memo for all of his department requests before sending him on his way. 

“Which one?”

I could practically see Percy raising an eyebrow in my mind’s eye. “Why?”

“Well,” Nobby’s voice lowered a bit, trying to be quiet and sound a bit more manly. “I’d like to ask her out.” 

I felt my eyebrows shoot up into my hairline.

Nobby Clark Junior was a very nice boy, pasty looking, wore too much cologne, but nice. There were a few glaring issues with anything related to dating him. Namely, that I could not get past his name. More specifically that his mother had looked at the baby in her arms and decided he would be called Nobby Junior. Misty said it sounded like a sex joke over drinks a couple of weeks ago and she had a point

“Is that why you keep coming up here instead of sending a memo?”

“She’s pretty!”

The files I was holding flew up into my face with a dull smacking sound.

Percy, if you send him in here I swear to Circe I will turn you into a pig and damn the consequences…!

“It’s the one on the third floor.”  

“Thanks!”

I released the breath I had not realized I was holding. I was not in the mood to craft lies about my availability to Nobby Junior today.

“Clark!”

“Yeah?” Nobby’s voice came from further down the hallway.

“Send the memos for your department’s requests!”

“Sure!”

I listened to incoherent mumbling from Percy and Eddie’s crescendo of laughter while I waited in the records office for another few minutes until I was sure Nobby Junior was on his way down the elevator before stepping out with a cautious glance down the hallway before running to the office.

The first thing that greeted me was Eddie’s smug expression. “Audrey! You just missed Nobby!”

I chose not to dignify that with a response and put the files on Percy’s desk, meeting his very blue eyes as he looked up from the memo he was reading.

“Thank you for handling Nobby.”

“You’re welcome.” He moved his inkwell distractedly before folding his hands on his desk like the forty year old man he thought he was. “He doesn’t need to be up here as much as he is.”

“I agree.” Why was I smiling so hard?

"You kids want to go to lunch?" Percy and I simultaneously turned towards Eddie, our paperwork and the weird moment between us seemingly forgotten. "My treat!"

Percy looked around at his desk, seemingly ready to protest.

"I have far too much to do for that."

There it was!

He had three papers and maybe other things I couldn't see in his in-tray. He was too efficient to have a backlog, even with the amount of work he received from the Minister (that he never shared with me) and all the meetings he sat in on to take notes.

"No, none of that, Weasley! When your boss offers to buy you lunch, you say yes."

He sputtered for a moment, taken back somewhat by Eddie's confident insistence of lunch or his proclamation at being his boss. Partially true, but Percy worked directly for the Minister ninety five percent of the time.

"What about you Aud?"

"Yes please!" I responded, it would be nice to get out of the office and spend time with my coworkers socially.

"Fine," Percy muttered, clearly knowing he was out voted.

Eddie knocked on the Minister's office door before popping his head inside upon a muffled response.

"Hey boss, I'm taking the kids out for lunch. Want me to bring anything back for you?"

Percy and I exchanged annoyed glances at Eddie's description of us being children.

I was not a child. I paid taxes!

"No, no. I'm meeting Elizabeth for lunch. Thank you Eddie."

"Enjoy your date, boss. Tell Liz we said hi!"

Eddie closed the door and waved the two of us to the office door. "Let's go!"

I turned back to my desk to grab my purse while Eddie spoke with Percy by the door. Men were lucky. They just needed a wallet and their house keys, women had other needs if only to honor girl code and a lack of decent pockets in our clothing.

Percy held the door for me as I followed Eddie to the elevator.

"The place is run by a friend of mine, Pearl Leonar, wizards only, no muggles. Just easier."

The elevator clinked shut.

"She makes fantastic food! Can cook just about anything and it always tastes like my mum used to make. Spicier though."

Eddie sounded as if he liked Pearl more than just as a friend as he continued to talk. The glowing smile on his face and reddening cheeks while he spoke of her only elevated that opinion. 

The elevator stopped on every floor letting people on and dropping them off on different floors. Some were holding lunchboxes or talking about what was in the dining hall for lunch today. Percy, Eddie and I found ourselves pushed to the back as more people came on. Most left on the next stop.

I stepped forward with a sigh of relief to be off the wall for the rest of the ride down before stepping back to allow two people on.  

"Really, Arthur, I have no idea what else to tell you." 

I felt Percy stiffen next to me and the air grow tense and quiet in the elevator. I glanced up at Percy who looked pointedly ahead like the pair did not exist at all. Eddie pressed closer to me to make room for the new arrivals, his smile growing forced.

The tension in the elevator was something that prickled on my skin in a manner that reminded me of the Byrgen House and every bone in my body wanted to get off the elevator and take the stairs.

"What floor?" I asked, my voice chipper as I ignored the tension in the elevator. I smiled at the tea witch and the older redheaded man. He looked like an older version of Percy, his expression was just as hard. 

"Level three, dear." Agatha was looking between the two men with a concerned expression as if they would have a family brawl in the confined space of the elevator.

"Yes ma'am." I pressed the buttons and moved back quickly. 

Stepping out of the elevator was like taking a breath of fresh air. I tried to be the first out the door but was trapped behind Eddie who was a bit quicker on the uptake on the courtesy of awkward elevator rides. Percy calmly walked out behind me, clearly unbothered by whatever the hell that was while my spine tingled from merely being exposed to the chilly, awkward encounter. I felt my heartbeat settle as Eddie led us across the Atrium.

Was that man in the elevator Percy’s father? They were near identical if only separated by age, same build, same blue eyes. Percy’s hair was a couple of shades darker, while the other man’s was coppery and his hairline was in a full military retreat. 

By the Twelve, I was sure they wore the same glasses!

Eddie led us up onto the cold, dreary streets of London, the rush of cars and the dull roar of city life assaulted my senses. I needed to start looking at apartments, with what I was earning for working as a secretary, a small apartment in London might not be out of the question.

He led Percy and I down an alleyway a couple of blocks from the Ministry phone booth entrance and turned to the right onto a quiet back street. I could see a small wooden sign up ahead that revealed the Dancing Dove before a door manifested out of nowhere beneath the sign. The No-Maj walking by paid it and us no mind as Eddie held the door for us.

The space was unusually light for a pub, the space done in light wood instead of more masculine, dark mahogany. It felt cozy and bright, with the windows out to the street and news clippings about Quidditch pinned to a nearby corkboard and the radio playing soft jazz music somewhere behind the bar.

“Pearl!” 

Eddie straightened his tie before loosening it with a lazy smile at the woman who was looking at the three of us from the bar. She was pretty, olive skinned with her dark hair in a braid down her back and a few silver piercings in her ears. I guessed she was in her late twenties, maybe early thirties tops. 

“Eddie Smith! It’s been a while!”

“Just a few days,” he smiled and his face turned a dull pink. 

Percy and I exchanged a look. Did he just bring us here as his wingmen?

The pair smiled stupidly at each other for about thirty seconds. Percy and I did our best to look anywhere else in any other direction. I found the bathroom sign of a sudden, peculiar fascination. 

Pearl came out from behind the bar with a broad smile that showed her gleaming white teeth. She was a very pretty woman and I suddenly understood why Eddie had been so insistent about coming here.

“Who are your friends, Eddie?” 

Pearl’s voice broke Eddie from his reverie of rare silence, he came back to earth with a quick cough and a stutter. “Ah, yes! These are my coworkers, Percy and Audrey.” He motioned to the two of us in turn with a motion of his hand, his eyes still on Pearl. “Kids, this is my friend, Pearl Leonar.”

Friend, huh?

“Oh, I’ve heard about you two. All good things, I promise.” She shook Percy’s hand and then mine, her smile still bright and eyes sparkling with warmth and mischief.

“Eddie says you’re an amazing cook,” I said enthusiastically, trying to act as a good wingman. “That you actually know how to spice your food.”

I could feel Percy’s eyes boring into my skull from somewhere above me.

“The English can steal spices from their colonies, but that doesn’t mean they learned how to use them.” 

I made sure Percy and Eddie were both looking at Pearl before I nodded in agreement. 

“Our food is okay, it’s just… Well… You have a point. I get tired of putting pepper on everything my mother makes for Sunday dinners. You use more interesting stuff that does not make me feel like my mouth is on fire.” 

Pearl blushed, “Really? My mother says my cooking is terrible and I’ll end up a spinster for it.”

Not the way Eddie looks at you.

“In any case, let me find you all a table and get you settled in.”

Pearl led us away from the front door, towards the back of the pub and past the other customers who were eating an array of nice looking and delicious smelling foods. I recognized a few of them from the Ministry whom I had seen in passing getting a morning paper.

We sat at a small table in the back, the space was a bit tight but it was comfortable. I took the seat next to Eddie and across from Percy who was looking around the room with interest before focusing on another nearby clipboard of Quidditch newspaper clippings.

“So, Audrey,” Eddie smiled mischievously as made himself comfortable, flipping over the menu as he seemed to already know what he wanted to order. “Out of curiosity, are you seeing anyone?”

“I see you and Percy everyday.”

Percy covered his mouth to try to muffle a huff of laughter behind the menu.

“You’re funny, but I meant, romantically.”

“Oh, why do you ask?” I put the menu on the table deciding on the daily soup because I actually knew what it was. 

“You’re an American girl in a foreign country. I would feel bad if someone took advantage of you or something.”

Eddie, I’m a little more astute about that than you are.

I smiled toothily and played with my bracelets, “I just hang out with my great-aunt and her groundskeeper during my off time. Why not ask Percy about his? It’s probably much more interesting.”

Eddie waved his hand, “It’s not. Dead in the water since his break up in… When was that, Weasley?”

“August, Eddie. Thank you for reminding me.”

“Wasn’t on your birthday, was it?”

“How do you know my birthday?” 

“Irene had everyone’s on her desk calendar, which is now mine. Also, Aud, I need your birthday so we can get you the customary chocolates.”

“Oh, too late. It’s October fifteenth.”  

“Well, damn. I’ll throw it in for Christmas.” 

“Ah, thank you!”

“So anyway, back on topic, I know a lot of people. If you’re looking at all, I could help set you up. Help keep Nobby Junior away. I just need to know what you like.”

I did my best not to think about it, instead focusing my attention on the bathroom sign a few feet away, praying neither of my coworkers could read minds. 

“I’ve never put much thought into it.”

Eddie nodded sagely, “Probably for the best. Dating within the Ministry is kind of a pain. Everyone knows each other and everybody’s business. Have you two heard about the drama in the Department of Magical Games and Sports?”

“No, what’s going on?”

“One of the managers was apparently dating his secretary.”

I felt my shoulders tense. 

Percy made some kind of noise from the other side of the table. “That’s incredibly unprofessional and against policy.” 

I thought about my father and Vanessa and nodded in agreement. I would never date a coworker, it was messy and too close to the mess of my home to want to repeat. “As a secretary, I would never get involved with a boss.”

“C’mon, Audrey, what if it’s the real love of your life?”

“Then one of us will have to find another job no matter what. It would never get to that point anyway.” 

Eddie laughed while Pearl came by with three glasses of water and took our orders with a smile and a wink at Eddie who watched her go back to the bar with an expression so lovelorn it almost made me feel lonely. 

Percy took the opportunity to move the subject away from office romance and towards something a bit easier to discuss.

“So, what was Ilvermorney like? I doubt it was better than Hogwarts?”

“Hm? Well… Simply, Ilvermorny is the greatest wizarding school in the world," I said with a smug smile.

"So, how much of it was inspired by Hogwarts?" Percy leaned forward with a grin, clearly ready to have some kind of debate with me about something other than filing methodology.

My face grew heated, "Well I think we did it better. Made improvements to the Hogwarts system."

"What kind of improvements?"

"Well, Isolt Sayer built it with her No-Maj husband, and her two students. There was no division among our founders."

"A muggle helped build a wizard school?" 

"Yes, I believe he planned the layout as the school was built so it's cohesive and easy to navigate."

"I did some research on international wizarding schools before the Triwizard Tournament last year. I read a little bit about Ilvermorny, but since they were not participating I did not pay much attention to it."

"Allow me to fill the gaps in your education."

We spoke of Hogwarts and Ilvermorny and the differences between them. Hogwarts moving staircases and Great Hall, Ilvermorny's own Great Hall with the mythology of the school and the country that danced on the walls and our staircases to nowhere built to confuse invaders and the secret passages to safety nearby.

Percy told me about the Sorting Hat that was imbued with the knowledge of the four founders of Hogwarts to decide which house each student would go to. I retorted with the statues who would judge each incoming student when they stood on a Celtic cross while the rest of the students looked on from above, the statues would bow, glow, roar or shoot an arrow in approval and the student would decide where to go if two statues wished to claim the child.

We quickly realized we may have been spilling some kind of international schooling secrets and then changed the subject to extra curriculares and the grounds.

"You call it the Forbidden Forest? That's a bit on the nose."

"It's a forbidden forest. What would you call it?"

I shrugged, "I was just expecting something more unusual or fantastical. More weird English words."

"Aud, you barely speak English," Eddie laughed and pulled out his wand to write something in the air.

B-a-s-i-l

"What does that say?"

"Basil."

"Bah-sil."

"Bae-sil."

“See?”

“No, no I don’t see. You just say it in a pretentious way.”

Percy was laughing and doing a poor job of hiding it.

“Hey Weasley, over here!” A voice from a nearby table got our attention to a small group of young men who looked like they were also from the Ministry, judging by their robes and some of the department pins. 

Percy excused himself to go talk to the table of young ministry workers who had waved him over. I watched the interaction for a few moments, surprised that my weird coworker was actually social. I mean, well, I never pictured him as having a social life. I kind of just imagined Percy going home to his owl to complain about work and eat leftover takeout. 

I looked back at Eddie, who had gone back to watching Pearl prepare food behind the bar. 

"Eddie?" I asked quietly. 

"Hm?"

"What exactly was happening in the elevator?"

Eddie straightened and looked at me, his eyes wide.

"You heard about any of the Weasley family drama?" Eddie asked before taking a large bite out of a sandwich.

"Hm? What drama?" I slid my water a couple of inches away before leaning forward to keep this talk private. Eddie leaned forward with the conspiratorial grin of someone who knew a lot of things.

"I heard through the grapevine a few months ago that Percy had a roaring fight with his father over this job. Broke off all contact." 

"What?"

"That man in the lift was his father, no hiding that resemblance."

No hiding that at all!

"Really? Over the job?"

Eddie looked around awkwardly. "Well, not entirely. How much do you know about Harry Potter?"

"Sole survivor of the killing curse. He's supposed to be a wizard on par with… What was the phrase? You-Know-Who?"

"Right! Well Potter is saying-" Eddie's voice lowered to a whisper, "That You-Know-Who has returned from the dead and killed that poor Diggory boy in the Triwizard Tournament a few months ago. Well, the Weasleys are known to be close to Dumbledore and the youngest boy, Rupert I think, is very close to Potter. Same year, best friends, you know how it is."

Not really.

"Percy's the smart one in that lot, he says Dumbledore is dangerous and all kinds of crazy things happen around Potter. Potter may be half mad, falling all over the place and telling lies about the return of dangerous dark wizards. He named prominent Ministry donors as You-Know-Who's Death Eaters! The gall! The boy talks to snakes, you know!"

These people- speaking parseltongue does not a dark wizard make! 

"So, they fought over politics?"

He nodded vigorously in confirmation. 

"Can you imagine such a thing?"

Uh… Well…!

"There is no magic that can revive the dead."

"Precisely!" Eddie took a sip of water before continuing. “Dead is dead. Ask my Aunt Tilly, though no one would have brought her back anyway.”

I had thought about what I was reading in the papers as I skimmed for my brother’s name on a published article. This was not my country, I was not haunted by the wars of the past the way these people seemed to be and there seemed to be a lot of merit in the idea that dead was dead, that nature and time were the two great, unstoppable forces of the world. 

"Now, I do admit that Arthur is an odd duck, he works in Muggle Relations, he's so fascinated by them. He's perfectly pleasant to work with, but he's nutty as a squirrel. The man built a flying car that is reportedly still roaming the Hogwarts grounds!” 

“What?”

“Yeah, Rupurt stole it with the Potter boy a few years ago, thinking they would make an entrance at Hogwarts. Weasley had an inquiry and everything. Bit of a spectacle that was.”

I bit my lower lip and tried not to laugh. 

Does he want to trade? Percy would either get on famously with my father or grow to dislike him as Alex and I had over the years. Frankly, I would take odd parents with questionable political taste over the nest of vipers at the Byrgen House any day. 

“Don’t mention any of that to Percy, he gets a little tense.”

“Oh, never.”

Oo0Oo0

November 19, 1995

I crept down the stairs, staying close to the wall to avoid unnecessary creaking from the stairs. I could hear Lucinda's stern tones and Elizabeth's warm responses in the sitting room on the other side of the wall. I knew this was not a… mature pastime, but Lucinda was… hard to talk with at points, being stern and intimidating. 

I curled my toes on the edge of the stair and sat down so any shifting weight would be better muffled. I could see the light of the sitting room. Lucinda never had guests, if she did, she would tell me in advance and invite me to come make conversation. Normally they were people who wanted to discuss rates for photographs and parties, one man was planning an engagement for next spring and was hoping to time it with the summer blooms Tavish was organizing.

"Lucinda, don't you understand how this might be seen as heavy-handed?"

"Not at all! It's for the good of the Ainsley family."

"How so?"

I could hear Lucinda sigh and the clink of a teacup against a china saucer. 

"I'm holding onto this house and property by the skin of my teeth. I'm as gold poor as a Weasley. The girl is pretty, smart, and not closely related to any of the rich old pureblood families that are still around-"

"This didn't work the first time, Lucinda." Elizabeth's voice sounded more firm than I had ever heard it before, her soft pleasant tones replaced by a steel that I had never associated with the Minister's wife. "It sent Lucina to the states and into the arms of that man who didn't know what a treasure he had."

"This is different."

"You'll besmirch Lucina's memory by trying to marry off your great niece, her daughter, to secure a position in society the same way you tried with her mother. This is no different."

"I'm not arranging a match this time. Audrey's already shown she'll do a bunk at the drop of a drop of a hat. I'm hoping to arrange introductions. That's all."

"How kind of you," Elizabeth's sarcasm stung my ears with its unfamiliarity. "That is some way to treat the daughter of a girl you raised."

I pressed myself closer to the wall to keep from sliding down the stairs. What was I hearing? I knew Grandpa Ainsley had died fairly young, that Lucina had been raised by her aunt, but not that she had tried to put Lucina in an arranged marriage that Lucinda had managed to avoid. I had just been doing as Lucinda told me throughout the weeks I was in this house to make her happy. To try and connect with this strange, prim woman. What kind of story was this? 

There was a low cough from behind me. I turned, my eyes wide in nerves and found Barry the House Elf staring at me from the top of the stairs. 

We stared at each other for exactly two seconds before I managed my most awkward smile and wave at the elderly House Elf. 

Barry looked me up and down before turning away to go down the upstairs hallway with a tired huff. 

"Frankly, Lucinda," Elizabeth's voice got my attention once more and I returned my focus to the conversation at hand. "I think you should expand your invitation list."

"How so?"

"You want Audrey to be financially secure and for you to make the connections you need to keep Thornell in your family? How about this as a solution, you put your name in the ring to host the one of the Ministry Galas next year. I'll talk to Cornelius, Merlin knows I can't make the arrangements for this year, and I'll see about getting the time of year that would best display your gardens and ready invitations to the well connected, business owners, and the young up and comers who could do with a bit of the society Thornell can offer them."

"Thornell is in no state for that, Liz!"

"It can be, Thornell is a historical home, it's uniquely isolated to host large wizarding events and has one of the most beautiful gardens in the country. I'm sure that would be enough of a reason to dip into the historic preservation fund that Cornelius is so proud of."

Lucinda was quiet for a moment as if she were looking to negatives for such an astounding offer.

"Besides, I'm tired of having to play nice with the Malfoys and their peacocks. If you want to arrange introductions for Audrey, then get your focus off the Sacred Twenty-Eight, Lucina married into money and it did her no favors. Aristocratic money through marriage is not the only connection you need to make to ensure your estate's upkeep."

"I accept. You name the date and we'll see it done."

"Thank you."

"But respectable young people only. No hooligans!"

"Define hooligan." Elizabeth's tone had grown teasing. 

"Potter supporters and anyone who reminds you of the idiots you dated at Hogwarts. Lucina told me all about the Barrow boy!"

Elizabeth laughed, "Don't remind me! I haven't thought about that in years! Lucina always said that she was going to tell Auntie Lucy to have words with me about my taste in boys."

I could hear an unusual noise and it took me a moment to realize it was Lucinda laughing. 

Chapter Text

December 3, 1995

Ms. Graves,

Unfortunately, we have not heard from Alex Graves since June, enclosed are all articles written during his time with The Modernist. We can tell you that he left on good terms and an offer to write for us again per his freelance contract. As to where he is publishing now, we are unaware and wish you the best of luck in your endeavor. 

We would also like to thank you for your extension of your subscription to The Modernist from the three month sample period to a full year of information about international affairs and business. Alongside your subscription, you are also entered into a monthly drawing to name a magical creature in our partnered conservation reserve, The Magical Creature Conservancy (MCC). 

Best regards,

Alice Powell, Assistant Editor in Chief

I slumped back against the chest at the foot of my bed and put the letter on top of the pile of letters from other newspapers Alex had written for over the last five years. The letter from my cousin Quincy said that Alex had not entered the United States in the last year before wishing me a Merry Christmas with an enclosed picture of him and Cassandra Barebone, both wearing silly Santa hats. He had tried to send me some chocolate, but it had melted to a goopy, caramel mess during the trip. 

Letter after letter from newspapers telling me the exact same thing. They had not heard from my brother in months, and had sent me copies of all of his articles. I had subscribed to five different papers to keep an eye on things but I was losing hope on finding him this way. Something would have to change, my approach would have to change but I was unsure what that next step should be.

I checked The Modernist off the list of newspapers my brother had written for who had responded to me. Now I had the weird, niche papers who I had no record of him writing for and the top of that list was The Quibbler. Something I sorely doubted Alex had any interest in writing for. 

I am not sure what the next step should be, but I needed to try something.

Oo0Oo0

Tavish Thacker I suspected may have been older than Lucinda and looked like it with his ruddy cheeks and sorrowful brown eyes that reminded me of a basset hound, but sparkled with the energy of a terrier. Tavish had an easy smile that lit up his face and I could not help the impression that he had been very charming in his youth.

Yes, I quite liked Tavish, even if I had a hard time understanding him at points.

When I would help him in the garden or with some work on the grounds he told me all kinds of stories about the history of magical Britain, stories about my ancestors who lived on the property which made me wonder why I wasn't hearing them from Lucinda. I asked him about it one day and he told me that Lucinda was a lonely soul and sometimes reminders of happier times were hard for people like that. 

I stuck my hands in the black dirt to continue planting flowers while Tavish trimmed the shrubs nearby with a few flicks of his wand. The greenhouse was warm to counter the foot of snow outside and the white flakes coming down to add another foot. It was cold, pristine and beautiful and gave the grounds an otherworldly feel like stepping into the realms of fae.

"Ya know," Tavish started in his low, warm voice. "I've worked for two generations of this family an' Lucinda was always one dedicated ta ensuring the land was cared for."

"I'm not surprised. She raves about your work to her guests. Elizabeth is quite taken with your hedge maze and the nibbling shrubs you hid in there."

Tavish laughed. "They're a fun little surprise for da tourists," he paused for a moment. "I wonder if I’ll work for three generations of da Ainsley family."

"What makes you say that?"

Thacker gave me a look of pity and interest. "Yer part of an old family that is dyin' out. Lucinda is the last in name, and 'er brother has passed on without a son, an' she can't stand the Averys. Wit' ya an' yer brother about, she can remove tha' flock'o vultures."

I felt my stomach turn at the mention of Alex. "Was Alex here?" 

Tavish tilted his head slightly and stopped trimming the hedges. "Yeh, five years past." 

My hands moved into my lap and I ignored the urge to scrub the dirt off my hands as Tavish continued to speak.

"'E showed up on the doorstep much like ya did and stayed two months 'til 'e was on his feet. 'E visited once a month after 'e got settled. Nice man. Lucinda was quite taken with 'im, when 'e stopped visiting 'e sent letters but that stopped abou' a year ago. Then ya arrived and Lucinda was cheerin' up again."

I was never told this. My chest felt tight.

"Lucinda said 'e was asked ta do some reportin' abroad, though we've seen no articles. 

No articles. The timeline adds up with what I know, but this… I had to ask Lucinda about this. 

"Can you tell me anything else? What was Alex like? Does he still smoke?”

Tavish laughed, “Yeh, far ta much, 'e looked and smelled like a chimney. 'E was serious, thoughtful. A lot like ya ta be honest. Only, 'e turned on a knut to rail about injustice and society if given a chance. 'Ow the powerful use their influence ta hide their crimes."

Yes. That sounded like Alex. I thought about the fight that sent my brother out the door of Byrgen House for the last time. He never seemed to give up on his convictions did he? 

Tavish's expression grew more quizzical. "Did Lucinda nae mention it ta ya?"

"No,” I stood up and brushed the dirt of the greenhouse off of my knees and put my cloak over my shoulders with shaky hands, “but I am going to ask her about it."

I left the greenhouse quickly, my cloak billowing out behind me like a lone black wing on the snowy landscape. A murder of crows cawed in the distant trees as I walked up the path that Tavish and I had carved through the snow to the greenhouse a couple of hours ago. The voices of the crows echoing loudly over the snowy landscape as evening began to fall. I wondered what they spoke of? The weather probably.

My thoughts turned to Lucinda, a dry, ashy taste came unbidden to my mouth. How had this never come up? Was she hiding this? Did she know where Alex was?

I swung open the door, causing old Barry to jump and almost drop the vase he was cleaning, fumbling with it in the air for a moment before catching it and bowing to me politely. I did not stop to tell him that that was unnecessary the way I usually would and stormed up the stairs, my chest hollow and echoing each breath I took. I removed my cloak with heavy limbs and draped it over my arm, it felt heavy like lead or iron. 

Lucinda’s office was in my sight.

I didn't even stop to knock. I swung the door open quickly, the warmth of the office fireplace warming my cheeks that were rosy from the cold winter air. I stepped across the threshold. The office was clad in dark wood and antiques and lit with low light. Barry clearly took very good care of it judging by how beautiful and shiny the floors and cabinets were. I noted the cabinet of small whiskey glasses and the drink that went with it sitting behind the glass door.

“What is it, Audrey?” Lucinda's stern countenance was always something that offered me comfort or made me recoil to rethink my requests or opinions. Her thin face and grey eyes reminded me of some kind of patient predator, always watching, taking in the world around her and filing it away for later use. 

Though, after what Tavish had told me, her demeanor offered me neither comfort nor fear. Just rage. Just the warm, bristling anger that crackled and surged under my skin like uncontrolled magic.

I steeled myself and tried to find the resolve that had carried me up these stairs. It did not take long to find.

"Alex was here," Lucinda jolted up from her papers at the sound of my quiet voice a few steps from the entryway. Her eyes were wide behind her glasses. "You met him. He lived here and you never said anything about it!"

Lucinda sighed and leaned back in her chair, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose as if to starve off a headache.

"What brought this on?"

"Tavish told me Alex was here, that he was in touch with you until almost a year ago!" I stepped forward, walking across the room until I could place my hands on top of the empty chair by her desk, throwing my cloak over the back of the chair. "And you never mentioned it. You've never brought it up. Why?"

“First of all, communication is a two way street. I do not read minds. Second, Alex is a grown man who can look after his own affairs." Lucinda maintained her steady cool tone that once made me so envious of the confidence behind it.

"You haven't heard from him in a year! He's published no articles in that time! Don't you find that strange?"

Lucinda gave a weary sigh and leaned back in her chair, with a pinched expression. "What do you know about your brother? And I mean really know, not just whatever ideas your fanciful mind has concocted."

"Well…" I paused for a moment to collect my thoughts before Lucinda motioned for me to have a seat in the empty chair I had been leaning against. I accepted the invitation. "He was in Thunderbird at Ilvermorny. He's nine years older than me. He left home five years ago and never spoke to us again."

Lucinda nodded. "That's very general."

My temper rose at her mocking tone. "He wrote for several English newspapers including the Daily Prophet and the Egregious Erumpent. His coworkers seemed to like him. And… and…" I trailed off. "No one knows where he is now!"

Was this all I had? General facts about a brother who had left me long ago? My throat ached with a repressed feeling of tears and shame. Maybe I had built Alex up into someone who would be willing to see me as a person? A kind older brother who I felt so denied in not having.

"Why did Alex leave home?" Lucinda's question brought me out of my reflective state. Her brow was knit in confusion and curiosity. "He mentioned it, but never told me what happened."

I paused for a moment, wondering what exactly I should say about the matter. I replayed the memory in my mind so many times that it felt like an old, uncomfortable friend. A friend who sickened me with previous deeds. Who mocked me with what could have beens and should haves.  

"There was a scandal about one of my father's… associates. Apparently one of his old mentees… Um… An acting Senator…” I struggled with the word and replaced it, the word feeling gross and heavy on my tongue. "Assaulted an intern with a love potion. Alex caught wind of the story while working for The New York Ghost and published it after an investigation." 

Lucinda looked up at me, her eyebrows raised and eyes wide in shock. 

I remembered the fight so well. 

When someone is quiet, people forget they even exist for a time. It’s like having an invisibility cloak. The sound of raised voices moved me from my bedroom to the staircase of my home while my father and brother raged at one another, the insults and threats flew through the air as I sat above them out of sight on the top of the stairs, feeling sick to my stomach as their voices continued to crescendo through Byrgen House. 

“He raped that girl and you want me to retract it!” Alex’s voice was the louder of the two, the higher tones echoing all the louder off marble and stone. 

“She’s lying for money and power!”

“I know Val! You know Val! She doesn’t lie!”

“He’s a good man! He would never-!”  

“Look at the facts you son of a bitch!”

“What did you just say to me?” My father’s voice was dangerously low and made me curl up at the top of the stairs, my knees pulled closer to my chest as my eyes widened. I could not tear myself away from the drama unfolding beneath me. Alex’s reddened cheeks and wild grey eyes consumed my focus, his black hair flying out in multiple directions.

“You pulled every string to make sure your friend suffered no consequences! What else should I call you? You a perv too? You were up that woman’s skirts before mom was even dead!”

The crack of my brother getting backhanded made me recoil.

Alex straightened, his hand on his cheek and an odd smile on his face. Was that blood on his lip? “Were you fucking her while my mom died? Is that why Audrey had to be there alone?”

The mention of my name made my chest tight and I felt myself struggle to breathe. 

“Get out.”

“Gladly.”

Alex had never packed his bags, he never said another word to our father. He grabbed his coat from the hook by the door, stormed into the dark of the night and that was the last time I ever saw him. 

Lucinda looked at me as she fixed her sleeves and bottled her ink to put away for the evening.

"There was a nasty fight about it with our father. That’s all I know.”

I remembered Valencia, she was one of Alex’s classmates, and a close friend of his. She had a bright smile, and a kind word for me before she and Alex would go meet up with their other friends. It was why she went to my brother for help, she trusted he would help her, and Alex trusted her version of events implicitly.

It hurt to mention it. That my family could come part with a few words and never desire each other’s company again. Our fragility was embarrassing in a way, to be so quick to anger and so committed to the hurt of it. Yes. There was something to be learned from it and maybe Alex could help me learn what that thing was. Did he have regrets? Did he miss us? Did he miss me?

I could not be sure of any of those things, but I needed to find Alex, even if it was just one meeting where he told me that he never wanted to see me again, then I could lay that ghost to rest. Maybe I could lay a ghost to rest for him as well by finding him.

I knew I loved Alex, but was the version of him I loved one of ideals and fabricated reality from the mind of a hurt child, or did I see him too clearly even then?

Either way, I knew how this part of my life would end.

Lucinda came out of her thoughts with a nod of her head and a couple of raps on the desk with her boney knuckles to get my attention. 

“You came here to find Alex.” Lucinda’s grey eyes were hard. “I don’t know what to tell you Audrey, your brother likes to row and from what you told me, his argument with me does not sound like a one off event.”

“He had a fight with you?”

Lucinda nodded, before standing up to look out the window to the snow covered grounds. “Alex knows his own mind and, unlike you, has never been shy about expressing it. We fought about politics, the way I assume he did with your father. Werewolf rights was the topic. He did not leave in a dramatic way, he just went back to his flat and stopped writing to me or visiting at all. My letters returned unopened, the post owl would stop trying to take them, he seemed confused by the name and address on the letter.” Lucinda sighed. “I eventually gave up on reaching out and decided that if he wanted to see me, he knew where I lived.”

She was hurt. Alex had hurt her in a quiet way. Though, Alex had always saved his real spite and nastiness for our father. 

“Why were you fighting about werewolf rights?”

“Alex had gotten it into his head that maybe we were not helping those with the condition, that we were setting them up for failure by not making wolfsbane potion affordable and private for them. I think it's a fool's errand to try, they’ve formed their own tribes and communities outside of proper wizarding society and good riddance.”

“Why is that?”

“There was a big scandal at Hogwarts a couple of years ago. Dumbledore hired a werewolf and he almost ate some of the students!”

What the hell?

America had a history of actively hunting werewolves, which was… Complicated. There were pictures in my old history textbooks of their torture and hanging their wolf heads on the wall as a trophy after the public skinning. In the modern age, we still had them, but they lived in very isolated communities in vast forests, they had no desire to communicate with MACUSA or other wizards. Werewolves frightened me, they were dangerous and I could not imagine letting one into a school to teach! 

“He hired a werewolf to work with children?” My voice was incredulous. “That’s so dangerous!”

“Why do you think we have a registry?” 

“MACUSA used to arrange hunts for sport on werewolves. That stopped when a pack leader bit the son of a prominent politician. Instead we moved them deep into national parks with their own territories, let them self govern and forgot about them for the most part.”

“What happened to the boy?”

“The story goes he went with the pack, eventually started an uprising. I think he was killed and made an example of. There have been no real werewolf uprisings since.” 

The room was silent with the weight of confession. Like a tomb or graveyard shrouded in shadows of silence and death. I turned my attention to the swinging pendulum of the clock on the wall, watching it reminded me that time was passing and that I was still alive, not wrapped in death’s shroud to be whisked away to oblivious silence.

I steeled myself once more, peering at the formidable woman in front of me with new understanding. Lucinda lost her brother, had put her career on hold to run the family home and raise her niece, Lucina had run off and married a man in a foreign country leaving her alone with only Tavish and Barry to help her. The relief of meeting her great-nephew must have been such a blessing, a weight off of her shoulders and a comfortable reminder of the niece she missed. I needed her help. Looking for Alex was not going to be an easy task, that grew clearer every day and I needed new avenues. Lucinda had connections that I did not.

Lucinda heaved a tired sigh that made her look much older as she pinched the bridge of her nose to help allay the headache I was sure she was developing.

“I… I need your help.” 

Lucinda looked up at me, her eyes questioning as she peered over the rims of her glasses.

“Can you help me find my brother?”

“What?”

“Y-you heard me. If we find Alex, this solves your problem of the Averys getting your estate, Alex will be able to sign the paperwork and take them out of the picture to inherit.”

“Alex told me he does not want it. The other option is jumping through the hoops to leave it to you without alerting the allies the Averys have in the Ministry. Frankly that sounds leagues easier, it would make you-“

“I have no desire to marry for money or power, or offer it to others as a benefit. If I marry it will be someone willing to climb a career ladder without my connections here or abroad. I’ve been a target for people who want things from my family for years. I want to be seen as a person and not a bargaining chip.” Each word I spoke left me feeling stronger and more confident. “If you pursue that path without my consent, Lucinda, I will leave Thornell to ruin and sell it at the first opportunity.”

Lucinda chuckled, “Cunning creature. You could have a real future in politics if you applied yourself.”

“Politics has brought me nothing but misery.” 

“Then you are far smarter than any fool politician already, but you are too nice and would never be able to hold power.” Lucinda smiled. “If you want my help, you have it. Let’s keep it quiet though, the Averys are already circling waiting for me to fall down the stairs, I don’t need them to set up roost in my foyer.”

I giggled quietly at the image of chinless Harrow Avery and his family of literal birds watching Lucinda descend the stairs with the same anticipation of the crowd at the beginning Quadpot match.

“You are right though, Alex would never stop publishing any of his pieces. He could have moved on to a less traditional society, it would be easy for him with our open borders into Europe. I have friends who have retired to various places, they could keep an eye on the papers there.”

“Do you think he left the country?”

“It’s possible.” Lucinda stood up, her grey robes flowing as she stepped quickly from behind the desk. “Alex is a bit like a cat, he comes and goes as he pleases, but always turns up in the end. I am not worried, he may actually have nine lives, but I think he needs to come home and build a relationship with you if nothing else.”

I did not put much stock in Alex running off to Europe, staying within the United Kingdom would be more beneficial, I don’t think Alex spoke any other languages fluently and an American abroad seemed something that would stand out more in more foreign cultures where English was not the primary language. Also, this Harry Potter mess would be too tempting for Alex to want to move away from. Madness or greatness was always something that could plague the human consciousness with its potential. I was not sure if I believed Harry Potter’s account of the end of the Triwizard Tournament, but I understood it as a story for vigorous minds.  

I nodded and smiled. “Thank you, Auntie.” 

It was quiet for a moment, Lucinda wrung her hands and peered into the fire with a solemn expression. 

“Audrey.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t see you as a bargaining chip in a game of status.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Not entirely.” Lucinda stood up and stepped out from behind the desk, her fingers drifting along the shiny wooden top. “I want you to be… Happy. Safe. Comfortable. Young people don’t understand the comfort financial security can bring a person, the worries it alleviates. Though, I suppose that stance would make me a hypocrite, seeing as I never married.”

It did, but I wasn’t going to say anything. Instead I nodded, encouraging her to continue this train of thought.

“When Lucina left, I had nothing but this house. This cold, empty house and all of the memories within that contained the failures and successes of our family that I found myself struggling to live up too. Lucina was very much the light of my life and meeting her children brought some of that joy back.” She turned to look out the window to the darkening sky and the slow dance of stars that appeared in the inky expanse above. “You remind me of her, and a large part of me wanted to remove any chance of you returning to the States. It was a silly, selfish notion, but…”  

“Ah,” I paused and collected my wandering thoughts. “We should talk more.”

“About what?”

“Anything you like. All of our conversations are very…”

“Prim?” She turned to look back at me with a coy expression.

“Yeah… I’d love to hear more about your life, your childhood and… and my mom if you have the time.”

A full smile graced Lucinda’s face, making her look ten years younger. “I can make all the time we want.” 

Chapter Text

December 12, 1995

"Ready kids?" Eddie asked, his smile mischievous as he shook his hat, causing the paper pieces inside to rustle quietly.

"Kids? Really Eddie?" Percy’s annoyed tone took my attention from the snow outside the window. 

"Right, you two can drink. Young adults, are you ready?"

Percy gave him a stern look before reaching into the hat. Eddie gave it another shake as he stuck his hand in. I had organized the drawing for the Secret Santa exchange and it seemed to offer neutrality to have someone else administer the drawing since it was just the three of us. Though I had already charmed the hat and the individual papers to not give us our own names. Minister Fudge said he and Elizabeth were getting everyone something on the day of the exchange. I was fine with that, I did not want to have to get a gift for my boss. I was giving Elizabeth some exotic seeds for her greenhouse.

Percy pulled the piece of paper and kept it close as he opened it to glance at the name.

I drew next after Eddie needlessly shook the hat for two pieces of paper. I reached in and pulled out a piece of paper and quickly opened it.

Eddie Smith.

Okay. Eddie likes food, he likes exotic tea and Pearl Leonar. Not in that order. His desk is messy, but I'm not touching that in a gift exchange. He also likes travel memoirs, mostly related to Spain. I had caught him taking breaks to read a couple of pages over the last few months between assignments. 

Eddie pulled out the last name and read it with a smug smile that spoke of trouble for either me or Percy on the day of the exchange. 

"Alright, the hat has spoken. So if any of us make eye contact in Diagon Alley, we pretend we didn't see each other. No peeking. No guessing."

Percy and I nodded in agreement.

The holiday courtesies could begin.

Oo0Oo0

December 19, 1995

I walked into the office after having lunch with Misty to find Eddie next to Percy's desk, leaning his hip against the corner with crossed arms and a pensive expression. The sleeves of his robes were pinned back to help keep the embroidered sleeves clean of ink from the long paper he was writing at his own desk. He said before I left that it was something for the Law Enforcement Office on the Minister’s behalf. 

"Maybe you should go," Eddie seemed not to notice I had come back from my break.  

I risked a sharp glance at my coworkers as I sat down at my desk. This was odd, Eddie was not a grim, solemn person and this was the quietest I had ever heard Eddie's voice, it was a low reassuring tone that sounded… well, paternal.

"The Minister said if you want to go, it's not a problem. Audrey and I can cover for you."

Percy gave Eddie a look so… disgruntled and spiteful that I immediately began to look for anything I could double check for spelling errors or deliver to another department. I was not sure I needed to be here for this.

“Hello, Audrey.” Percy’s voice cut across the room like a knife to end whatever conversation he was having with Eddie. His voice was pleasant with me, countering the forceful glare he was leveling at Eddie. "How was lunch?"

“Hey Percy, Eddie. It was fine. Misty says hi by the way.” I smiled awkwardly and sat down at my desk to open a folder that I hoped had some paperwork I could pretend to look at for a few minutes while I tried to piece together what I had just walked into. No. I did not have to piece anything together. It was not my business. I was not a snoop. 

Eddie’s voice dropped, the attempted soft tones of his voice were an effort to keep his talk with Percy private, but I had good hearing and Eddie was a loud person by nature.

I could hear all of the discussion whether I wanted to or not. 

“It’s your father, I know he’s a bit mad, but you only get one.”

“That’s not any of your business, Smith!”

“Fine. Don’t see him. Do you want to go and at least talk to the hospital clerk?”

“No!”

“Fine. I won’t say anything else about it.”

“See that you don’t!”

Hospital? No. None of my business. I knew better than to be nosy. Ignoring my recent behavior in regards to snooping and eavesdropping, I was too old for that kind of behavior.

Oo0Oo0

A couple of hours later, I found myself in the file room humming along to the song from the radio. I had kicked my heels off, leaving me better able to move up and down to alphabetize and move the files into empty drawers. I enjoyed the manual labor, it would be easier with magic, but I would rather take my time and make sure everything was done correctly and find any potential filing errors in the process, magic made it hard to catch the little stuff.

My bewitching girl, where have you gone? I have what you need right here. My dear, my darling. Please be mine, you’re so fine. Truly, my darling you are my bewitching girl!

That song was horrid, but it had been stuck in my head for close to a week. Celestina Warbeck was fine, but she was all over the radio waves with Christmas songs for the last several weeks. At least My Bewitching Girl sounded like a winter love ballad, but could be played at any time of year. 

It was a ballad about love and lust and the bewitching girl trying to decide if sweet words would be enough to win her heart. Misty had to explain it to me, I missed some context and the roar of the bar was no help in the matter.

My quiet moment was interrupted by the file room door opening with a full click and clang causing me to jump and turn towards the door.

"Sorry," Percy's tone was unmistakable in its bossy edge and careful enunciation. He looked down at my stray shoes at the end of the row of file cabinets.

"You're fine."

It was quiet for a minute before he spoke again. "It's quiet in here."

I nodded, "Files are sensitive to noise."

Ugh, why am I so weird?

Percy chuckled, a muffled noise that caught my attention for its strangeness. Misty and Zara found me funny, I just assumed that was because they were both a bit odd themselves.

I played with my bracelets awkwardly before turning my attention back to the files.

We were both consumed with our own thoughts as we rifled through file cabinets on opposite sides of the room. The silence between us was of a comfortable kind.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see your father?” My voice broke the silence seemingly without input from things like good sense and courtesy. From what I understood, the man had a nasty accident at home and would be in the hospital for a while. 

A file drawer shut far louder than necessary, I could feel him turning to glare at me, like I had overstepped an invisible line that separates coworker from acquaintance. Which I had, but in my defense, Eddie had done it first. 

I took a deep breath and looked at him. Percy looked tired, the shadows under his eyes were a stark contrast to the firm, harsh look in his eyes. I got the impression he was gearing up to argue. 

Terrible, hypocritical thing for me to ask.

“If you want to go to the hospital, I can cover for you with the Minister. If you truly don’t want to go, I’m not going to judge you for it.”

Something shifted in his eyes, his expression morphing from one of quiet rage and annoyance to something more… confused.

Maybe I wondered what I would do if my own father was in the hospital while we were not on speaking terms. Would I go to him? Or would I just ignore it and go on with my life and my anger knowing other people were there to handle the matter? Perhaps I wanted to subconsciously treat Percy as my own ‘what if’ scenario? To have some kind of guidance or idea of how I should react within my own awkward family dynamics.

“What is your family like?”

That was sudden.

“Messy,” I stated thoughtlessly. Percy raised an eyebrow, confusion settling in a way that was uncomfortable to see in someone so self assured. I corrected myself quickly. “Most families are, I think. My stepmother plays favorites, my father is to focused on his career-“

“Is that a bad thing?”

“My stepmother playing favorites?”

“No, your father and his career. Is it wrong to want something better than what you started with?”

“What do you mean?” 

“If you start with nothing, or fighting for scraps of what everyone else has, is it wrong to want more from your life?”

I understood that I had grown up with power and privilege that was denied to other people by virtue of who my family was. My grandfather, Atticus Graves, was a Head Auror and had achieved fame for defeating a Dark Wizard who was actively hunting people to try and create living body from their different parts, doing other unsavory things along the way. It was a story grandpa told often when the lights were low and my parents thought I was in bed when I was listening for the stairs. In the years that followed, Annette would join me listening to this story from the top of the stairs, which would probably explain her fascination with serial killers and murder. My grandfather’s accomplishment had only added to the record and resume of the Graves family as Dark Wix hunters. It allowed us opportunities in business, politics and social opportunities that rivaled the barons of business themselves. 

My father had grown up in comfort, Grandma Ophelia denied him only the outlandish and cultivated within him a fiendish drive for success alongside the work ethic and social skills required to go far in life. His younger brother, John, had settled in New Orleans, marrying Araminta Laurent and producing Quincy, my favorite cousin. Uncle John wanted a quiet life, (aside from the parties in the French Quarter) a contrast to his social climbing, ambitious relatives. Jack Graves could have sat back and coasted through life in peace and comfort, but he always wanted more. 

But I had lied about Jack Graves to Percy before and would not have cared to say any of that in any case. 

“I don’t think so. My father was more interested in my brother when he was home. Carrying on the family business, family name or some other nonsense.” I paused for a moment to gather my straying thoughts. “My father is content with wand regulations and finds me disappointing for wanting something different from my life then what he wants from me "

Percy scoffed and looked at me for a moment with a furrowed brow. “Clearly we both suffer from foolish fathers.”

He picked up the files he had set on top of the cabinet and walked out the door without another word, leaving me to stare at his back as the door closed and think about careless, foolish fathers and their willful children.

 Oo0Oo0

December 22, 1995

Lucinda had gone to a bridge game with some of her friends and Tavish had quickly taken the opportunity to invite me to his hut for what he called a traditional meal. Apparently, Lucinda liked more English food, much to the old gardener’s disappointment. He assured me that I would like it and to be there around five.

I admired each page as Tavish cooked hurriedly in the kitchen. All he told me was that it was a national dish of Scotland and wanted me to get in touch with my heritage. Which consisted of Tavish walking around in the green tartan kilt and wool knee high socks while he cooked. He said something about the kilt getting his mind right for cooking his traditional favorites. 

He looked comfortable, even if I found it a bit silly. The temperature had dropped considerably over the past two weeks. I couldn't imagine wearing a skirt or a kilt in this weather, though I suppose the hut was more than warm enough. 

Tavish’s hut was always warm with a crackling fire in the hearth with a collection of pencil art framed on the walls. He had an assortment of books about botanical gardens and coffee table books about the world's most beautiful gardens in full color that made me feel comfortable and compelled by the colors and the way the flowers moved in an invisible breeze in a landscape so gentle it was like a dream. 

There was an easel with a half done pencil sketch of the fountain in the middle of the hedge maze not far from the house. I had walked the maze a few times before the snow came and managed to avoid several of the nibbling plants that Tavish had hidden along the edges to help protect the hedge roots. The center of the maze had a small, marble fountain that was difficult to find, there were a lot of little turns to get to the true center and was very easy to miss, even if one could hear the fountain. 

The small sketchbook next to the easel had diagrams of ideas for the the spring, summer and autumn gardens, all the plants were clearly labelled and had notations on the side of the page for the next draft he did on that particular section of the grounds. He also had some notations for the Gala next year, with additional notations from Lucinda about the number of people and the amount of money from the historical fund had been allotted to Thornell’s house and how much for the gardens. There was no word on the time of year yet, though Lucinda was hoping for a summer or autumn event, due to some unfortunate spring allergies. 

I turned another page in the gardening book I was looking at while the radio played a Quidditch match featuring the Holyhead Harpies and the Littlefield Lurchers. Tavish said it wasn't even a good Scottish game, though he did his best to try and explain the rules to me. I didn't get it, though I nodded politely at the explanation. I thought Quadpot was a much more sensible game. Go Snidgets!

"'Ows work?"

"It's fine, Eddie's given me a speechwriting project, Percy usually handles it but he's doing other stuff right now so he'll just edit it this time."

Percy complained bitterly about my American spelling in a way that really was quite comical. Eddie had taken to writing notes about the lunch schedule in Castillian Spanish to annoy Percy. He was taking lessons from Pearl a few days a week after work.

"Good!" Tavish's voice echoed from the kitchen, his tone jovial. 

"Yeah, I need to write the speech for the interdependent head meeting where they talk about the Potter situation."

Tavish made a noise and I heard the hot oil crackle and snap loudly from the kitchen.

"What do you think about that, Tavish?"

"Potter? Da boy's addled! Ta many bludgers da head!"

Oh. Tavish told me about bludgers a while ago, they were the balls that went into the hoops, right?

Tavish and I existed in a comfortable silence for the next several minutes as the concerns of the kitchen consumed Tavish’s usual interest in politics. 

I was soon called to the kitchen, Tavish had pulled out a chair for me like a gentleman and motioned for me to sit down with an enthusiastic grin, his kilt swirling around his knees from how fast he was moving. I took the seat with a joking curtsy that made Tavish laugh before I took the chair and put the napkin in my lap the way Lucinda constantly reminded me to do.

Tavish summoned two plates with a flick of his wand and held them in the air for a moment while he sat down across from me. 

“’Ere ya go!” Tavish plopped a plate down in front of me with a strange gray looking thing upon it and a fiendishly, joyful gleam in his eyes. The second plate came to rest in front of him with a clang. 

“Oh, this looks great!” I was lying. It looked questionable. “What is it?”

“Try it, then I’ll tell ya.”

I nodded, feeling adventurous and cracking open the gray bag with a fork and knife, causing the ground meat to fall out onto the plate with onions and a softly spicy, earthy aroma to flood my senses. It smelled nice and I took several bites.

“This is good!” 

Tavish beamed at me and opened his own. “Tha’ tis a haggis! A special Scottish dish.”

I took another bite, it was rich and delicious.

“Haggis? What’s in it? I’m surprised I’ve never seen one in the states, someone could make real money on this!”

“Sheep.”

“Oh, it’s lamb.”

“Nah. Sheep. Full grown.” Tavish sat down and opened his own haggis. “We're a poor country and use every part of da sheep.”

“Every part?” I was halfway through the haggis and enjoying myself immensely, but something about the words every part slowed me down in curiosity. 

“Yeh, we use da stomach ta keep it together, da meat, lung-“

My fork made a clambering noise as I put it on the plate. “The what?”

“There’s oats in there, onions,” Tavish was digging into his fried haggis while I took in what he was telling me. “Illegal in da states fer some reason.”

Gondulphus' grave!

"Ya need ta gettin touch with yer heritage."

I picked up my fork and dug back into the haggis. It was delicious if I pretended that I did not hear anything else Tavish was saying about the creation of the dish and how it was made. 

"Ya should find a nice Scottish boy, nae some poncy Englishman."

"I'm American, I can't tell the difference."

"Wha-? No, no 'ere's the difference, lass!"

The topic changed from the national dish of Scotland to the crimes of the English. Tavish had an interest in history and a knowledge of land disputes between both countries that left me riveted, which led back to his original topic about English boys and Scottish girls, that the English were cold and I was too nice to deal with that, that Scotland was full of warm people despite the bitter winter.

It was like listening to the rest of my classmates from Ilvermorny talk about the difference between the Northern and the Southern United States. 

"If ya 'ave boys givin' ya problems, Audrey, ya just tell me an' I'll fix'em fer ya!" His eyes glimmered with a wolfish intent and I understood he had the best of intentions meant within what was clearly a lovingly issued threat. 

I smiled and nodded along, knowing that Tavish would keep most of his opinions to himself no matter who I decided to bring around in the years to come unless the boy was truly a monster. Much like an uncle or a grandfather. Yes. Tavish was grandfatherly, sweet and I trusted him implicitly. 

I finished the delicious haggis and decided to include the experience in my next letter to Quincy and Cassandra. 

Chapter Text

December 24, 1995

I pulled my scarf up a little higher to cover my red nose and secured the flaps of my hat around my ears while my hair whipped around behind me. The blistering cold wind moved through me like I wasn't there at all. Tavish stepped forward, his knees high as he took a few steps through the fresh snow checking how deep it was before clearing a path with a wave of his wand for Lucinda and I who followed behind him.

My own wand was in my hand helping Tavish melt patches of ice and blow extra snow off the path, watching it melt away with satisfaction as Tavish led us to the tiny village I could begin to see over the hill ahead of us. 

I suddenly understood why he was so insistent on taking the walk up to Hogsmeade. In the dimming light of the evening it was a beautiful sight that spoke of warmth and Christmas joy.

Though, my hands ached for a warm drink.

"C'mon, lass! Gettin' soft behind a desk are ya?"

"Your taxes pay me to be behind that desk and bring you office gossip," I said, causing Lucinda to laugh.

"Yeh, buncha numpties runnin' the country!"

"In that we agree!" Lucinda added in her dignified tones as she adjusted the scarf I had given her for an early Christmas gift and tapped her glasses with her wand to stop them from getting condensation from her breath.

I understood none of that but got the spirit of it. 

We made it up the hill to the village, the elderly women thanked us for clearing the path before heading into one of the shops lining the street. I slid my wand into my sleeve as I looked at the lights, took in the sounds and watched the heavy snowfall around us come down to earth. 

"This is beautiful!" I breathed, a cloud of warm air coming up from behind my scarf. "Oh, look at the Christmas tree! It's bigger than the one in Times Square!"

“Really? I thought America was all about bigger being better?” Lucinda’s sardonic tones were not lost on me and made me wheeze in restrained laughter while she calmly adjusted her scarf before reaching over to straighten mine. “It’s crooked.”

Tavish laughed and motioned me on, leading us down the street. 

Hogsmeade was full of people. There were couples on dates, holding hands or walking arm in arm as they admired the lights. Young families with small children who babbled about the big tree in the square and warm drinks while their parents smiled indulgently. 

Tavish led us onward, both Lucinda and Tavish were stopping to talk with people they knew as they went. Many of them, he told me, were part of his gardening club or worked as landscapers like he did. These people had heard about me at their meetings apparently and would tease kind old Tavish about his little assistant being taller than they expected for giving me a smile or a wink. Lucinda’s acquaintances were older women who were selling candies for a last burst of holiday charity to help support their causes in the new year for one of the charity societies that Lucinda helped run. 

Lucinda waved Tavish and I away, “I’ll be here for a while to double check the accounting. You two go on ahead and I’ll meet you by the tree.” 

"That’ll be fine Lucy.” Tavish looked down at me with a smile, “Let's get ya a butterbeer. Sommat ta warm yer bones aside from tha’ weak coffee ya like.”

“It’s not weak,” I giggled. The office gift exchange had been a success. The Fudges had given the three of us a combination of baked goods and new quills. I had given Eddie a travel memoir about Spain by a man who was visiting all of the major historical sites in the region. Eddie had given Percy a box of nice ink in an assortment of professional colors. In turn, Percy had given me a nice coffee mug with three sample bags of coffee. I showed Lucinda and she gave me one of my Christmas gifts early, a coffee press. I was thrilled! Now I could engage in my normal coffee habit with good coffee and all was right with the world. 

We passed a group of wizards talking about politics while their wives were minding the children. They were talking about Harry Potter and Tavish grew still for a moment before he pressed on. He looked like there was something on his mind.

“Tavish?” 

"I… I don’t want Potter ta be righ'." Tavish mumbled as he pulled his hat over his ears. His cheeks glowing pink from the cold. "The war was so long… I lost many o' my cousins and two uncles. My son... Ten years o’ terror. I can't do it again…"

I looked at Tavish, in that instant I could see every year of his life in his eyes. Each shock and pain that had aged the old gardener, that had left him wondering if life was worth living afterwards. He still had enough love inside of him to treat me as a friend or granddaughter. 

“Your son?”

“Alistair, his mum left an’ I raised the boy. ‘E grew up with Lucina, the best o’ friends. They did everythin’ together. Got into all sorts o’ trouble all the way through Hogwarts.”

Tavish paused.

"’E got caught with a muggle girl in sixty-nine and they left’em in da street. Ya-Know-Who supporters who were testin’ da waters before da war really began a few months later.”

What could I say to any of that? How do I offer comfort to a man who had lost a son he clearly loved? How do I connect with a woman who is far too much like me in putting intellect over emotion? Even if it means letting go of someone you love so much after a devastating loss? How can so many terrible things happen to a single family? Were we cursed in some way? Or was this just the cost of a war that had left clear and obvious scars on this part of the magical world? I had no answers, all I could do was hope that all of that never happened again. That a boy was besieged with madness from a curse that should have killed him as a baby. What a terrible thing to hope! 

"I don't think you'll have to go through that again. I mean, You-Know-Who died years ago and all magic in the world can't bring back the dead, right?"

"No, but there was always sommat 'bout him… Like 'e was arrogant 'nough ta defy nature 'erself."

“What do you mean?”

“Ta’ve the number of followers he did, there musta been something maniacal, a power beyond a mortal’s comprehension.”

“What? Like necromancy? The only necromancer I know about was killed by my grandfather and he was not successful in his creation of his mother as a flesh monster in any capacity.” Reportedly the creation had twitched and moaned, but that may have just been my grandfather exaggerating. 

Tavish looked at me with a concerned expression. So did some of the families nearby. 

Oh, by the Twelve, I sounded like Annette!

He looked at me with a smile. "Come now, no sad talk. No politics. It only starts fights."

I giggled and took Tavish's offered arm as he led me towards the Christmas tree and the merry band of carolers singing God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs. 

"How long have you known Lucinda?" I asked as the soloist began a moving rendition of the Many Bells of Mary Dotter. 

"Met her in school. She was a brilliant, high minded sorta girl, like ya and yer mother. I was a fat little Hufflepuff who wanted ta play with dangerous plants. She took a likin’ to me after I dropped a bit o’ devil's snare on a bully o’ hers. Been friends ever since."

"Did you know my grandparents?"

"O' course! Callum was a reasonable sort of man, Lorna was a very nice woman. Used to make me biscuits and invite me ta family parties. I helped Lucinda with yer mother after they passed. Lucina was da worst farmer I’d ever seen. Killed everything she touched wit’ ‘er black thumb!"

I laughed as Tavish guided me towards a place called the Three Broomsticks. He stopped short at the line leading out into the street. "Poor Rosemerta, packed full again dis year. Let's try another place, but don't tell Lucinda!"

That sounded ominous and… intriguing!

Tavish guided me through the crowds and towards a quiet street closer to the edge of Hogsmeade. It was ominous and quiet, making me feel watched and a tender, shivery anticipation of something forbidden moving up my spine. My wand made no sound, so I knew I was quite safe from whatever nefarious things were out here. 

We stopped outside of a pub called the Hog’s Head. It was dingy looking and smelled like a barn, but had a kind of charm about it as a place I would never be allowed to be seen in or around in the United States. The thought was thrilling! 

"You'll want ta clean da glasses before ya drink anything."

Tavish held the door open for me and I walked into the strange bar that smelled like… goats. Wait. I think I heard a goat bleat from somewhere behind the bar.

Oh! Oh the goat was wearing a little bell and two hats on its horns! Cute!

I knelt down to pet the goat who had come out from behind the bar, giving her a few scratches around the base of her horns while cooing over her while Tavish grabbed a table. 

“I used ta take da kids here whenever we were in town.”

The bar was empty and sparsely decorated for the holiday season and seated only a few patrons. One a man wrapped up like a mummy. A woman in black with a scar on her face and a large raven hat that occasionally flapped its wings and clicked its beak. The other patrons sat in shadowy corners and whispered to themselves.

I took the seat across from Tavish, enjoying the strange, forbidden atmosphere that was so different from other places I had visited in the last couple of months. It felt sketchy and exciting. If I had stepped into a place like this back in the States, I would have brought hell upon myself from my father for embarrassing the family if I had been caught by the newspapers.

Tavish created a plain glass from a small mirror he pulled out of his pocket. I conjured one with a quick flick of my wand and a held image in my mind of a crystal glass I had seen in the Fudge's home.

"Yer quite talented."

"Thank you!" I blushed as I removed my hat and scarf. I had good grades, but that was an expectation, never a thing to be commented or complimented on by my family. "I wish I was in a job where I could use magic for more than filing."

"Being an apothecary is a good career, you can work with your own garden and make potions upon request."

"That does sound nice, but I'm not sure that's the right fit."

"Don't go inta politics, Audrey. Yer smarter than that."

"No, never. I've lived it and am still living it and I honestly don't like it. It's better here than at MACUSA, but I know too much about it and am too interested to really give it up. I don't like the spotlight it puts on people by proxy."

"What do ya mean?"

I lowered my voice to a whisper, "All my father wanted was the presidency. For over twenty years he carefully cultivated his image, in America we judge our candidates by if they would be a good drinking buddy and if they have a nice family. From the time my parents were married, my mom was out on his arm like a prop for the cameras. They paid attention to what she wore, how she parented and judged her by every childish mistake Alex and I made from the time we could walk. I learned about politics at my father's table and…" I struggled to find the right words. "I don't want to spend my life that way. I admire how Elizabeth has a private life, separate from her husband's career. She goes to private events, not public ones and people forget about her until they see her with him. The Minister let's her do what she wants. That is a marvel to me."

Tavish looked thoughtful as the barkeeper came over.

"Be a writer."

I looked up at him, but had no chance to respond before Tavish introduced me to Aberforth Dumbledore. He was a scruffy man who smelled like goats and wore a kilt even in the cold of the Christmas holidays. He gave me a gruff nod as he filled our glasses with hot butterbeer, the smell of which made me sigh with contentment. He spoke with Tavish for a few minutes, updates on the bar and the plans for the Thornell garden for next year. 

When Aberforth left to tend his bar and new patrons, Tavish leaned towards me and said quietly. "Aberforth is strange, but he's a good person. If you need anything, you can go to him if Lucinda and I can't help you. He knows all kinds of things."

"I didn't know Albus Dumbledore had a brother."

Tavish shrugged, "Most people don't. Like ya, he doesn't advertise ‘is relations and they don't talk much."

"Why not?"

"May’ve something ta do with Abe's illegal goat charms."

"...Huh?"

"Don't think abou’ it. You'll be happier for it."

Oh… Oh dear Merlin!

My horror must have shown on my face because Tavish was snickering as he covered his face with his hand. 

"Drink yer butterbeer, it'll help ya forget."

I did as I was bid, the warmth filling me from the inside out and making my brain pleasantly fuzzy. We drank in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, I reached down to scratch the head of an occasional visiting goat.

"Why a writer?" I asked as I reached the halfway point in my glass. "That seemed to come out of nowhere."

Tavish smiled and wiped the foam from his face with the sleeve of his coat. "Ya have a way wit’ words. It's comfortable and intelligent. I think keeping all of yer thoughts to yerself is a waste when you see so much o’ what’s wrong in da world with such clear eyes." 

That… that was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me. Should I ever decide to take the romance plunge, Tavish was going to be the standard I held men too. 

We finished our drinks and Tavish stood up, tossing a few coins to Aberforth behind the counter. "C’mon, let’s go find Lucinda."

Oo0Oo0

December 31, 1995

Zara was, at heart, a bit of a raucous party girl. She sang and danced to the bar songs, twirling a laughing Misty around the floor while she sang in a bawdy offkey manner. I clapped along with the rest of the pub, stomping my feet and laughing as the pair spun faster and faster and the steps of the dance grew more complicated.

The song slowed to what sounded like a funeral dirge and the dancers slowed in time until the song stopped with a final roar of the crowd. The dancers laughed and bowed as they were met with cheers and I could not think of a time I had more fun. 

I poured the drinks for Misty and Zara as they stumbled back to the table, their cheeks pink with color and their voices exhilarated with excitement. 

"Great party!" Zara exclaimed as she gave me a bright smile before dropping into her chair with a happy sigh as she stretched her legs out and knocked back her mug of butterbeer. "Thanks for the drinks!"

"My round, my treat!" I replied, feeling a little tipsy and smiley myself. "I'll get the next one too!"

Misty whooped and clapped while Zara pushed the third mug towards me with a mischievous smile. "We're gonna get you drunk tonight poppet you may even dance!" 

"To Audrey and her generous purse!" Misty raised her glass, slopping butterbeer on the table and down her hand.

Zara met her mug with her own and I tapped their mugs with my own in what ended up being the first of many toasts that evening.

The pitcher was soon emptied and I staggered and swayed to my feet. The room felt hot with all of these people in it, a swarm of bodies underneath the surge and swirls of color from their brightly colored clothes. I shuffled through the crowd towards the bar with the faint inkling of what direction I should be going. The drinks made me feel lightheaded to contrast the heavy, sluggy motions of my body.

I was bumped and jostled as I moved closer to the bar where the barman called out drinks and orders almost as fast as he could make them. The group of women next to me laughed, one putting her head on a tall man's shoulder as she caught her breath, accidentally sloshing her drink down her friend's back. I made it to the bar as the second woman yelped from the cold and quickly placed the order for another large pitcher, grasping tightly to the counter to keep my place and stay upright.

I paid the barman quickly for the pitcher of butterbeer and my moment of clarity for a second pitcher of water before I called a thank you as I was once again sucked into the crowd. I took a few steps, carefully freezing the pitcher of water so it would not spill on myself or any of the other people I was trying to squeeze through, allowing me to focus on not spilling the butterbeer. A true stroke of brilliance!

Only, there was an issue with this amazing idea.

It was hard to get through the crowd with occupied hands. I stumbled over someone's misplaced foot and felt myself topple forward, dropping the frozen water pitcher to the floor with a crash and a shout of pain as someone put their hands on my shoulders to steady me as my pitcher of butterbeer baptized the shoes of a couple next to us. There went my hard earned money!

"I'm so sorry!" I managed to say to the couple before I looked up, wincing at the idea of making eye contact with someone whose toe I may have just broken. 

It was Percy.

In a crowded bar.

Toes unbroken judging by his expression.

My face felt warm from more than just the crowded bar and the alcohol.

"'Lo Percy."

"Audrey?"

I straightened myself up, taking a step away from him to try and put some space between us before being pushed forward into his chest by the crowd surging behind me.

I could hear someone cursing next to us. I assumed it was the man whose foot I had dropped the pitcher of solid ice on. 

"My toes are definitely broken!" He sounded Scottish and in a lot of pain. I looked over at the young man, he was about my age with dark brown hair, he threw an arm over Percy's shoulders to keep himself from falling over, pressing me closer to Percy in the process. 

"I’m sorry! I think I could fix them for you if we could sit down somewhere," I spoke loudly to try and be heard over the crowd of people around us.

"Where's your table?" Percy said from somewhere over my head. One of his hands had moved off my shoulders, the other seemed content to stay put for the moment. Oh, he just summoned my ice hammer pitcher. Good. We may need to break more toes to get out of this crowd. 

"That way," I pointed in what I thought was the direction I had come from. If not it would get us out of the crowd for a better look.

The three of us moved forward like a many limbed creature, managing to navigate better as a group then as three separate people. The dark haired man made uncomfortable noises as we shuffled forward. 
 
When we emerged from the crowd and we're able to separate, it was like a breath of fresh air. As fresh as bar air could be. I stepped away from Percy, trying to forget how close we had been as I cuddled the pitcher of butterbeer to my chest. I was impressed I had not slopped more of it on the floor or other people. Percy handed me the frozen pitcher, I considered using it to cool my very warm face but still had enough grip on my senses to realize how awkward that would be.

I turned towards the tables only to find myself greeted by the sight of Misty and Zara kissing over the empty glasses on our table. 

Kissing. Passionately. 

I turn my back for five minutes and my friends decide to explore romance. At least I know why I always felt a bit like a third wheel.

I put the pitchers on the table and guided the Scottish fellow into the chair across from my kissing friends. Was that tongue? No, I didn't want to know. 

Percy coughed loudly.

Misty and Zara didn't seem to hear him.

"Hey!"

Misty and Zara pulled apart with a popping sound that was barely audible over the roar of the bar. Zara's expression was content, Misty's face was as red as her hair, only growing more so when she locked eyes with the Scottish guy, myself and Percy. 

“Weasley.”

“Nightspur.”

“Wood.” Zara said in a low voice as she glared at the dark haired man.

Wood made a pained noise in response as he helped me get his shoe off so I could look at the damage while I swayed about.

“Perce, maybe someone sober should fix my foot?”

“I’ve seen her grades, you’re fine!”

“Anymore anti-goblin legislation coming out of the Minister’s office, Weasley?” Misty asked, her tone snooty and confident. “Probably not with Umbridge out of the picture.”

“Madam Umbridge is teaching at Hogwarts and acting as High Inquisitor to bring Hogwarts back up to its previous high standards,” Percy’s pompous tone caught my ear as I prodded Wood’s foot with my wand as I tried to remember the process of healing breaks and bruisings while the world tilted to the left like I was on a ship. 

“Oh, she’s teaching? Well, she’ll be dead by the end of the year.” Zara’s voice was cutting.

“Huh?”

“Job’s cursed.” The man whose toes I was fixing said over the roar of the crowd. “Defense teacher’s never last a year.”

“How?”

He shrugged as the tip of my wand glowed. I was fairly confident I remembered how to do this spell, no matter how foggy my mind was as Misty, Zara and Percy continued a three-way debate or heated discussion about this Umbridge woman. 

“Oh, that’s an achievement in ignorance, Weasley!”   

“I’m Oliver by the way.”

“Audrey Graves, nice to meet you.” That was not the right spell for healing a bruise. My words sounded slurred even to my own ears. I had another idea. I was pretty sure that this was the right spell to fix a break.

“I think you’re too drunk for this,” Oliver started to move his foot off my knee. I grabbed his ankle to hold him in place.

“I am not! Hold still so I can fix it!” He had oddly shaped toes.

“Audie,” Zara’s voice caught my attention as I started casting another spell. There was some discoloration and webbing appearing on Oliver’s foot. “Tell us about the MACUSA candidates.”

I gave a squeaky hiccup.

“Jack Graves is an asshole!” I pushed the newly formed flipper out of my lap as I stood up to give my angry rant some gravitas. “He never paid me! And he wears too much cologne!” I steadied myself on Percy who kept me from falling to the floor while looking over at Oliver who was saying something I could not make out as preparations for the countdown to midnight began. “And he cheated on his first wife on her deathbed! What kind of scumbag does that!”

I could feel Percy’s eyes back on me as Misty and Zara’s mouths fell open, Oliver stopped fussing over his new flipper.

“Ismelda Wolf has the personality of a blank piece of paper. I’ve had more engaging conversations with a garden snake!”

“Garden snake?” Zara laughed. “I like that. What’s it mean?”

“It means she’s an idiot!” 

“Americans have weird euphemisms,” Misty chimed in as Percy managed to lead me to a chair as the countdown began. 

“TEN!”

“She’s all ‘family values’ but one of her kids was charged with poaching!”

“SEVEN!”

“She made sure it was covered up!”

I refused to sit. I was flying hot and swaying back and forth like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. I could feel Percy’s hand on my shoulder.

“FIVE!”

“We have hunting seasons for reasons!”

“FOUR!”

“Nobody’s-”

“THREE!”

“Above-”

“TWO!”

“The-”

“ONE!”

“Law!”

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

I looked at all of the cheering, kissing people and focused on Percy as Zara and Misty clapped at the completion of my rant. My mouth moved without input from my brain for the next several minutes before I had a brief awareness of leaving the bar with both of my arms over Misty and Zara’s shoulders for support.

Oo0Oo0

January 1, 1996

I woke up in what I recognized to be Misty’s apartment, sprawled over her fluffy carpet next to the couch with a small trash can laying next to my head. I must have fallen off the couch, I had a vague recollection of being dumped on something soft, or this carpet was really, really comfortable.

“Hey,” Misty appeared above me looking like an angel, her copper hair circling her head like a halo as it flew in all different directions. 

“Hello,” I smiled, noting that the left side of my face was kind of numb and my head felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. 

I could hear a third person, Zara I assumed, moving around in the kitchen. 

Misty smiled mischievously, her slightly pointy teeth on display giving her an edge of danger. “So… You like redheads huh?”

My face grew hot so quickly I could have cooked an egg on it. Zara poked her head out of the kitchen with a smile as mischievous as Misty’s. 

“Wh-what makes you say that?”

“You told everyone last night before you passed out on the table,” Zara clarified as she leaned against the wall. “You told Weasley you liked his hair after your political rant.”

Oh, no…

I sat up so quickly I made myself nauseous. Misty handed me the small trash can.

“That it was pretty!”

Oh, fu-!

I did not get to finish that thought as I began to retch into the trash can. Misty rubbed my back soothingly with comforting noises between her bouts of gentle mockery.

Chapter Text

January 2, 1996

I walked into work with a hat pulled low over my eyes, doing my level best to not look anyone in the eyes. My vague memories of the New Years Eve bender I went on played on repeat through my mind. What I could not remember was filled by my overactive imagination. 

These were not comforting images.

It was mostly a repeat of me slurring about pretty red hair. Who says a man's hair is pretty? Why did I say that!?

I've dreaded looking Percy in the face for twenty-four hours.

There was hesitation at the doors of the elevator until I was pushed on with the surging crowd.

It's not like we could go on a date. Dating a coworker never ends well. Plus, I'm the office secretary, I answer to Eddie, the Minister and Percy, who is often just acting as a proxy for the Minister. It was not official, but it was a gray area and neither Percy or I did gray areas. He's too much of a policy wonk and I was not going to pull a Vanessa. 

Wait, was that him?

I pressed myself against the wall before I realized that that was Mr. Weasley from that muggle department, I could not remember what exactly it was called. These names were so long and convoluted and I did not deal with it enough to actually remember it in any case.

I did not need that heart attack. That may have taken a year off my life.

I lost sight of Mr. Weasley when more people crowded on and off the elevator as it climbed each floor. Mr. Weasley stepped off with a friendly word to a wizard from one of the Law Enforcement offices.

It was a long ride to the Minister's office, my stomach flipped and turned like it was a boat in a raging storm. When the doors opened I braced myself for the awkward encounter. I prepared a series of lies and excuses to try and preserve my dignity.

Mainly that I was very, very drunk and therefore would deny everything.

That was not me, it was my twin.

I stepped in front of the door to the Minister Support Staff office with a quiet dread brewing in my stomach.

Oh god.

It was time. I opened the door.

Only to be met with a low roar of noise from Eddie.

“Oh thank Merlin you’re here!”

He was surrounded by papers, newspapers, official documentation and a general flurry of things that I could not recognize. It was like he was literally trying to drown in paperwork. I risked a peek over at Percy’s desk and noticed it was empty.

“Percy’s out with a disease! I had to chase him out of here fifteen minutes ago. It was gross!  Please help me!” 

“Coming!”

“Pick the important headlines for the Minister, I’ll start the rest of this.”

“Yessir!”

When I finally saw Percy on Monday the following week he was able to work, and said nothing about our social encounter or my drunken proclamations. Granted, he was so congested that I wouldn’t have understood him anyway.

He did tell me that he fixed Oliver’s foot with a proud, smug grin when I left for home. Like I had done something to this Oliver person who I had no recollection of meeting.

What did I do to Oliver?

Oo0Oo0

January 5, 1996

Lucinda examined the newspaper carefully with a guarded expression while I pinned white tacks to a map of Europe where Lucinda's retired friends lived. 

Why did so many old people want to live on the beach?

"Charles White is prancing around a… nudist colony somewhere in the south of France. He says it's warm there. Bloody libertine." 

I nodded and added him to a list of people to double check the addresses of. 

I doubted Alex was wandering among a nudist colony full of old people. Wherever he was I hoped he was wearing pants at least. Please be wearing pants.

"Jennifer and her husband Devin are somewhere in Italy. Their daughter is working somewhere in Siberia with the Drumstrang graduate husband of hers. They're studying weather patterns and indigenous magi communities." 

I put two more white tacks on the map in the appropriate locations.

"Ah, here's a letter from the Ministry."

I almost put a tack through my finger.

"What does it say?"

Lucinda opened the ivory envelope with her elegant owl shaped letter opener, it reminded me of the Greek goddess Athena, a bit like Lucinda was a modern version of sorts, slightly out of her own time and holding onto tradition with the zeal of a military commander.

"Dear Madam Ainsley,"

Very courteous. I wondered what the criteria was to be called madam. It was a very elegant term.

"We, the Ministry Committee of Public Issues and Fundraising, henceforth referred to as MCPIF. Would like to inform you that your Thornell has been selected for hosting in autumn of this year-“

"Autumn?" I took my eyes off the map, an eyebrow raised. "I thought you were famous for your gardens?"

"We are. People have been trying to poach Tavish from Thornell for years. The man's a genius." Lucinda explained as she skimmed the rest of the letter. "Who wrote this? Ah. Matilda Porter. I know her from school. Useless twat."

I giggled at the uncharacteristically blunt insult.

"She's never liked me. If she's handling the fundraising schedule then we're gonna have to show off our spectacular natural landscape, hedges and not a lot of flowers. Tavish has some plans for autumn events, but he's going to have to pull out all of the stops for this." She made a tsk noise from between her teeth. "She's trying to embarrass me."

"Well, I can help."

Lucinda smiled. "I thought you might. Barry and I can handle the inside of the house, I'll need your opinions, but Tavish needs an assistant more than I do for this." Lucinda reread the letter. "I'm going to have a word with Elizabeth, see if she knows anybody who could come assist Tavish while you’re at work. Maybe an apprentice gardener from her Apothecary group. We can do this, but it’s going to be difficult.”

Oo0Oo0

January 6, 1996

I stopped in front of the shop window, looking at the display of beautiful books of both fiction and nonfiction. Annette liked nonfiction, biographies, true crime and the like. She was a very weird eleven year old. 

Magical zoologists remained uncertain as to how a social climber and a politician managed to create such an oddity.

I had an urge to get a book and a few other things for her as a late Christmas gift. I had no reason to be angry with Annette, I was angry with my father, I was angry with Vanessa, but Annette was just a casualty of the crossfire. 

"Audrey, get a load of this!"

Annette held up a book full of tales of murder and ritual magic sites to attempt to revive the a dead woman through human sacrifice with a toothy smile. 

"Annette! Isolt's panties!"

Annette laughed, her long dirty blonde hair flying around her in a wild halo. "This is the story grandpa tells all the time, right?"

"Yes, but-" You are a nine year old girl, where the hell did this interest come from? "Where did you find that?"

"Dad's office! He's got all the cool stuff in there!"

I had never been in Jack's office without permission. It was full of breakables and family heirlooms along with his private library of political books, and clearly his collection of true crime. Maybe my suspicion of Annette being the favorite was not unfounded.

"Have you been sneaking in there?"

"Yeah," she flopped down on my bed, spread eagle on her back. "I was bored and he's never home anyway. Wha'cha doin’?"

"Essay for Mr. Yost about concealment charms."

Annette sat up quickly, her expression no longer bored. "Can you teach me?"

"Save that for school."

"Please, Audrey!” She leapt off the bed and grabbed my upper arm, her eyes begging and a slightly pouty lip. “You know you're my favorite sister right?"

"I'm your only sister."

"Details, details. Favorite sibling then!"

“What about Aldridge?”

Annette made a face. “He looks like a potato. And he smells."

Aldridge smelled like a clean baby, but I could see the disgust from a child's point of view. When Annette was born I thought she bore an uncanny resemblance to a naked mole rat.

"And he peed on mom."

Yes. Twice. The first time was a memory I held close to my heart whenever I needed a laugh. Vanessa's screams of 'It's in my mouth!' soothed me like a lullaby. I felt laughter bubble in my chest before I collected myself. 

"I'd try Annette, but my wand is picky and if it blows up in your hand, I'll never hear the end of it from your mother."

"Isn't she your mom, too?"

My hand froze over the paper, my shoulders tense and the rest of my body ready to spring out of the chair to flee like a wild animal.

"We're half siblings, same father, different mothers."

"Oh, I just thought mom was… you know. Old."

"Don't say that to her!”

I stepped into the store and asked about two decorated, leather bound journals, and a book of old magic rituals by a famous dark sorcerer from France. After wincing a bit over the price, I stepped back out into the cold with all of the items tucked in a bag under my arm. 

Annette was a ghoul, but she was my only sister. She didn't deserve to feel unloved by me. She was not someone I was angry with.

It would take time to send the package internationally and I did not want to run the risk of it being delivered to the Byrgen House over Christmas dinner. If I sent it tomorrow after work, she would for sure be back at Ilvermorny by the time it got to her. Then she could do as she wanted with it and not have to appease her parents. It seemed a kinder option.

As for the journal I had bought for myself, something that Tavish said to me rattled around in my head with warmth and praise. I was on an adventure of some sort, and perhaps I should take notes and write things down to offer clarity to myself when it was beyond my reach. 

I used to journal. I had ideas for novels and won a short story contest when I was in my first year at Ilvermorny. The comparisons to Alex came quickly, and writing seemed to be Alex's thing. Being an insecure child, I wanted to be good at something that was just mine where I wouldn't be compared to Alex. After he left home, I stopped writing and journaling. I was too angry and sad about the matter to explore things I enjoyed and I fell out of what habits I had managed to create.

Alex had no imagination. He was a researcher and a cauldron stirrer. Perhaps I could carve my own niche doing something a bit different. It would take time to find that spark again, but I knew it was still in there.

I staggered out into the street with the wrapped package under my arm, the London air was brisk and speared through me like icy teeth. 

Maybe I should get something for Alex? Just in case.

I stepped into a quill and parchment shop with a wooden floor that moaned and creaked with each step from the small groups of people who wandered about looking for nice quills. After looking around for a moment, I found myself wandering towards a collection of beautiful inks in blues, reds and one in a stunning violet. 

I didn't think ink bottles would survive the trip to the United States, Annette would have to get her own at the school store. Ilvermorny was insistent the students only use black, blue or cranberry inks. 

I picked up a deep violet ink and held it up to the light to examine the color. Pretty! I think that could come home with me!

There were some beautiful quills nearby from gyrfalcons. I examined them carefully before putting them with the ink for purchase. I needed a nice quill, even if I found I no longer had it in me to write the way I did as a child. I could use it at work.

It was a quick trip to the counter and a few exchanged pleasantries with the woman at the counter who double wrapped my new ink bottle and gift wrapped on of the quills for me.

“That’s perfect! Thank you.” I turned to leave only to be met with an old woman looked at me inquisitively before breaking into a playful smile.

“Oh, you’re the yankee they hired to replace me.” She stated it firmly as if she already knew. “Bethany from Transportation keeps me up to date on the ministry gossip. She likes your accent.”

I knew who this was.

Irene was a round old woman with snow colored hair and glimmering green eyes that reminded me of a cat. She had an intricate wooden cane and a mischievous grin, her glasses were thick and magnified her eyes dramatically. 

I stuck out my hand, “It’s nice to meet you, Ma’am. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, none of it good I hope?” 

“Ah…!”

“Excellent. Good women are never remembered by history, glad I managed to kick up a fuss before I left.” She seemed very proud of herself.

“Oh, I can see the point.”

“Smart girl. I can see why they haven’t eaten you alive yet.”

“Was it that bad up there when you left?”

Irene rolled her eyes and motioned me towards door of the shop, leading me out into the street towards the corner of the quill shop. She leaned on her cane and gave me a wry smile as I adjusted my hat against the cold wind. “I never liked that job. Too political. Lots of arse kissing. You have to be a yes man to get anything done or get anything on the floor."

I nodded, I could agree with the idea. That was politics no matter where a person was in the world. It was oddly comforting.

“Fudge wanted to use the boy, and I told him exactly what I thought about that. I told him that it was very unusual to hire a personal assistant who’s not quite twenty, that’s a job for someone you want to personally groom for a high position down the road, usually a clerk with more work experience around twenty-two or twenty five. I know he functionally ran International Cooperation for a year, but that was very sketchy.”

My head tilted inquisitively.

"So, you told Fudge what you thought about the matter."

"Indeed. Weasley had an inquiry and everything, poor thing. How was he supposed to know Crouch had lost his mind? He probably thought it was normal. Hell, we all thought Crouch was ill for months. Weasley's got an inflated sense of self, which probably saved him from being completely crushed by the inquiry. Ego is the saving grace and great folly for young, stupid boys trying to make their way in the world."

I think that was something that could apply to young people of both sexes, but I nodded in agreement. Some of Percy's better traits were really overshadowed by the pompousness of his general demeanor. He was generally fairly pleasant with me, more so after that… incident at the pub that I would never think of again after this moment.

Irene continued, clearly having bottled up a lot of thoughts on office politics. “Cornelius is a fool, Percy Weasley has the job experience, and he’ll grow into the job, but the decision was purely political. Cornelius does not like to be called out on his attempts to plot and scheme. I paid the price for doing it.”

"Wait, I heard you had a fight with Percy?"

Irene grinned. "What did you hear?"

"That he had a roaring fight with you, and that you called him an infant and walked off the job!"

Irene broke into a deep belly laugh, complete with snorting and breathless gasps for air as she leaned on her cane for support. 

It took her a minute to collect herself. "That's mostly correct. Percy was throwing his weight around and I managed to get him out the door for a few minutes on an errand so I could talk to Cornelius. I told Fudge that I had been doing that job longer than that boy had been alive and that I wasn't going to put up with some infant trying to boss me around and I was quitting immediately. Percy heard that last bit along with one of the clerks who came up to run an errand, I guess they met at the lift, which I guess is how that story got around the Ministry. I would never say that to his face, I have manners."

"Oh."

“Honestly, as pretentious and full of himself as Weasley is, it was really the icing on the cake on my retirement. Umbridge had been trying to drive me out of the job for years, she wanted a young thing who wouldn't question her, I think. I couldn’t handle both of them anyway.”

“How bad was she? I don’t hear much about her.”

“Pray you never do. She’s a beauracratic hell-spawn. She acts sugar sweet and grandmotherly, but don’t fall for it. Policy is everything, rising through the ranks at any cost is all she cares about.” Irene lowered her voice. "If you're lucky, that Defense Against the Dark Arts curse will put an end to her career. If it doesn't, you'll get to find out for yourself what kind of lunatic she is."

From what I was hearing about this Umbridge woman, I hoped I never met her. 

"I'm sorry you felt like you had to quit your job. I know you were there for a long time."

Irene laughed, “Don't feel sorry for me. I believe in Harry Potter. My days were numbered anyway. Best I left on my own terms while raking Cornelius over the coals."

That was the first time I had ever heard someone say that they believed Potter's account. Lucinda and Tavish we're very neutral on the matter as they did not want either side to be right. My coworkers openly disbelieved along with a number of people from other departments. Elizabeth and I had discussed the matter, she said it was all politics and she never wanted to be involved with that in any case. 

As for myself… Well, I didn't feel convinced of anything. Potter believed what he was saying, everyone else believed that dead was dead. Everyone has their own version of reality and somewhere in-between two stories is the truth.

“My granddaughter goes to Hogwarts. She says Umbridge mutilates her students during detention, and somehow that did not surprise me.” 

“I’m sorry? She mutilates the students!”

Irene put a finger to my lips at my outburst. “Yes, I said that now keep it down!”  

“That needs to go to law enforcement! Or the School Board! Both!”

“She’s got connections and we used to hang misbehaving students by their thumbs in the dungeon. They won’t do a thing.”

“Gondolphues’ grave!”

Irene nodded while I collected my thoughts in a flurry of whispered thoughts and comments that she seemed to agree with.

"Audrey, if you want to ask any questions about the Ministry, Beth will be happy to answer them. Should Umbridge make it out of Hogwarts alive, tell me everything. I'm out in Devon and my home is called the Stormrock Shack. 

"Yes, ma'am. I'll definitely do that."

And with that, Irene gave me a smile, one full of pride in finding a potential new informate and hobbled back out into the snow covered streets. Irene had ulterior motives, I understood this, one did not grow up with political influence without knowing when other people looked for it or exercised it.

Was this why I liked Percy? He was a yes man who took anything told to him at face value, he couldn't see ulterior motives and had enough brains to be useful without playing politics, as much as he thought he was playing political games in some capacity. In his mind, Fudge's word was as good as law. 

He would never look below the surface of what people told him. Maybe I liked that kind of naïvety that I had never possessed.

Or I just felt safe in that Percy would never piece together my relations with the American politician who was leading the polls. 

The next six months were going to be long.

Oo0Oo0

January 15, 1996

Walking into work on Monday was the equivalent of being hit in the face with a bat.

“Any comment on the Azkaban escapes, Minister?”

“How will the Ministry find these escaped convicts?”

“Is the public in danger?”

The support staff office was full of reporters and Aurors who were surrounding the Minister of Magic, shouting questions or keeping people at a respectable distance as they took notes and assaulted the Minister for comment. I moved over towards Percy’s desk where he was taking notes and looking worried.

“What’s going on?” My voice was low as I kept my eyes on the reporters and listened to Fudge’s responses to these questions. His tone full of confidence as he praised the talented Aurors who were already on the case.

“Mass breakout from Azkaban,” Percy’s voice was low, his attention on the notes he was taking for what would be a formal statement to the public for the evening paper. “Ten Death Eaters broke out of Azkaban somehow and now they’re on the run. Don’t worry, we’ll catch them and their accomplice.”

“Accomplice?”

“Sirius Black.”

“The mass murderer?”

Percy nodded and motioned me away so he could focus on his notes and drafts as the group of reporters around the Minister grew more insistent about the security measures of Azkaban, past, present and future. 

I was starting to think things were taking a seriously black turn. 

Chapter Text

February 27, 1996

Misty threw her arms around me in a hug, "Audrey, my tall Yankee friend! I'm so happy to see you!" She squeezed me tightly as I felt something heavy go into my purse. She looked up at me with a smile, before giving me a wink and stepping away to loop her arm through mine. "Accounting is such a burden! The taxes, the raises, the department fund allotments!"

"Sounds terrible!" I put my hand over my purse feeling the glossy texture of a magazine cover that had not been there when I walked into the Atrium this morning.

"I mean, some things in the world are just not meant for human eyes, or for those high up in administration." Something in her tone kept my attention and the smile she gave me was cunning but cautious. "I'm sure you understand that better than I would, being privy to the Minister's opinions and all."

This was interesting. I smiled back at Misty trying to encourage her to be less oblique as we walked to the elevator.

"I do enjoy your radical opinions, Audrey. I would love to hear your thoughts on this latest scandal." Oh, she wanted me to read the magazine. This must be delightful if Misty was being so evasive on the matter. 

"Still on for drinks tonight?" I asked as I held the elevator door for one of the tea witches. 

"Of course! Zara and I look forward to our little tradition."

“Great! I’ll be a little late tonight but I will be there as soon as I can!" I stepped onto the elevator with a smile and a wave as the doors closed and lifted me upwards with a sudden jerking motion.

Zara and Misty beginning to date was something I was afraid would interfere with our friendship. It had not. They were more inclined to cuddle and make moon eyes at each other, but most of their traditional dates were on Saturdays, their Fridays were reserved for time with friends. Zara had explained that bit of the idea to me with a punch on the arm, she and Misty were not traditional romantics who wanted to the other person to be their whole world, a relationship was supposed to add to a person, not consume them and hurt others in their orbit in the process.

I wanted Misty and Zara to have a long, happy life together if that was what they chose. Two more thoughtful, considerate people I was sure I would never find.

The whispers and mutterings around me in the elevator were different. More tense and uncertain, some with more conviction or less. Words like "Potter," and "Quibbler," assailed my hearing. 

"You read the Quibbler yet?"

"Who reads the Quibbler? It's not a real paper!"

I moved my purse in front of me and peeked inside to find the bottom part of a headline. 

-Know-Who's Return

I need to hide this. I bring this upstairs and I'll lose my job faster than I can say Quadpot!

By the time the elevator reached my floor, I was the last one on it. I stepped off quickly and ducked around to the women's restroom. I worked with three men, they'll never come around this way. I locked the door behind me and pulled out the magazine.

Harry Potter was a handsome boy, his vivid green eyes peered at me from the magazine cover and he just looked so tired. I took in the scar on his forehead and shuttered. What a mark to carry! You could never hide from who you were or what you represented to people. 

I remembered Chastity Rollins from school hiding her Vivian's Secret magazines to make them look like trashy pulp literature with a charm. I was trying to remember the variation she did to accomplish fooling our teachers that she was doing something productive and not reading how to guides for sex.

I held the image of a favorite book of mine about a family division in a time of war. My copy had a unique cover of stars and a pocket watch. I muttered the spell and held the image in my head, an illusion and active transfiguration of the outside contents soon left me holding what appeared to be a copy of The Time and the Night by Hans Brinker.

Such a good book.

Justine Falsworth was a fantastic heroine, so strong-willed and opinionated and her conflict with her parents over the idea of a woman's place in society and her hawkish view of politics and wartime resistance in wartime Europe left me in a comfortably anxious state every time I reread the book. The romance angle was subtle, but it was a calming aspect in such a tumultuous tale of despair and hope. Benjamin Faulks was an insecure, but competent man who could stand on even ground with Justine after he found his footing by the middle of the war. 

I needed to find another copy. I loaned mine to Cassandra after I left Byrgen House after she told me she had never read it. She would not marry my favorite cousin before she read this book and we talked about it at length. 

I double checked the charms and slid it back into my bag before stepping out into the hallway to head to the support staff office. I could read it while I waited for the morning meeting to start.

I was greeted with a chorus of good mornings from my coworkers as I made myself comfortable at my desk. 

After a few minutes of content waiting and reading, now more confident than ever in my illusionary spellwork, the morning meeting began with a rousing rant as Minister Fudge came out of his office, reading the headlines that Percy gave him every morning. Fudge’s brow was furrowed and his face was a flaming red. 

“He interviewed with the Quibbler! The Quibbler! Why are people taking this seriously?”

“It’s just the conspiracy theorists, Minister,” Eddie said with a wry grin, “Remember the supposed Rot Fang Conspiracy?”

“People have been asking for comment since yesterday, do you want to set up a rebuttal with the Prophet?” Percy asked as he pulled out his day planner and reinked his quill in expectation. 

“Yes, let the Daily Prophet know when I am available and as soon as possible and we’ll get this sorted out. Absolutely ridiculous that I have to dedicate time to this- this farce of a lie. You-Know-Who is not back and Potter will be spending the rest of his life in Saint Mungo’s before the year is out!” Fudge paused to collect himself. “If I see a copy of the Quibbler in this office or any other part of the Ministry, make sure the offenders are looking for new positions before the end of the day!”

I discreetly moved my illusioned copy of the Quibbler behind my in-tray out of sight of the three men in the room.

“I’ll meet with the Daily Prophet before the day is out Weasley, just tell me when they arrive.”

“Of course, Minister.”

I would reinforce the charms, I would still really like to have a job when I went out with my friends this evening.

The Minister spoke again, "I'm leaving early today to visit Elizabeth at Saint Mungo's."

I bit my lower lip, Elizabeth had Dragon Pox, which sent her to the hospital with complications a few days ago. From what we had been told, she had now developed pneumonia and while she seemed to be improving, that could change quickly. Adults were more likely to die from Dragon Pox than children were. I couldn't imagine what that would be like for a man who clearly loved his wife. I had brought her flowers the other day, I was not allowed to see her, but I did request that they be brought up to her along with a card. I was hoping to actually visit her on Monday if it could be managed. 

Oo0Oo0

The article was… A lot…

I struggled to stop reading. I had to put it down because I was at work and it was so much to take in. It was like I was in the graveyard too, that the statues were watching for having the gall to judge this child, to diagnose him with potential madness out of a need for peace for those around me. They pierced my flesh with their cold, judging stares, the scythe of the grim reaper statue shimmered in the moonlight, blinding me like the lies and doubts I had told myself over the last several months. 

The names of the accused Death Eaters were names that were familiar to me. Malfoy. Crabbe. Goyle. I had dinner with them. They were well dressed. Malfoy was the most well spoken of the group and I had often spoken with him when he came to discuss matters with the Minister. 

I knew a well dressed, polite disposition could hide dark intent, but I had never imagined pureblood supremacy was a thing. America had its issues, most of it related to our relations to No-Majs, but wix who came from No-Maj households (we called them Seeds) were very accepted as an omen of good fortune for the community as a whole. There were sections of society that were devoted to a more extreme version of Rappaport’s Law even after it had been removed from the books, but… these groups were generally not violent like these Death Eaters.

What a stupid name!

Though, if I stopped and thought about it, under these definitions, most American wizards that I could think of would be defined as Pureblood under the English bloodstatus ideology. We frowned upon interaction with No-Majs, many of the Seeds were seen as more wix then No-Maj by the time they finished school, even if we did not wipe the memories of their parents anymore like we did during the time Rappaport was in effect.

Forsythe Graves, the son of Gondulphus Graves and a respected Auror in his own right, was famous for his declaration upon returning from killing a dark wizard in the Georgia colony that “Peace comes from the grave.” A quote that was often repeated in the courts on matters of sentencing those few dark wix, or mass murderers, who were brought alive to the MACUSA court of law. I believed the full quote from my many times great grandfather was “Peace comes from the grave, as one knows their enemy lies in it.”

He was supposed to bring his target back alive.

Clearly, that was impossible as he just dragged the corpse back and dropped it on the floor of the council chamber to prove a point.

The incident was captured in a famous American painting called “Peace from the Grave” that was currently on display in an art museum in New York.

A quick rap on the break room table made me jump. I had been so engrossed in my own thoughts and my reading that I had not heard Percy come in. He was holding a small lunch box and giving me a weary smile. We didn't normally share lunch breaks. I usually went downstairs to eat with Misty and one of us tried to be upstairs with Eddie and the Minister.

"Mind if I sit here?" He motioned to the chair across from me. "I got a chance to have an early break."

"Go right ahead," I struggled to take my eyes off the article as Percy took the empty seat across from me. His lunchbox opened quickly to reveal some kind of sandwich.

I went back to reading the article, one hand bringing a grape to my mouth as I went back to being engrossed in the story that was being told.

"That book looks interesting."

It took me a moment of panic to remember that my copy of the Quibbler currently resembled a copy of my favorite novel. 

"Yes, yes it is.”

“What’s it about?”

“It’s about resistance in a time of war.” I left out the bit about familial divides. “Hans Brinker is a very talented writer.”

Percy nodded and started asking if I had any book recommendations, apparently he was in a bit of a reading slump. His usual choice of mystery novels had become predictable over the last few weeks and he needed some new material.

I did my best to give my recommendations in a way that did not reveal how distracted I was, all my mind could think about was the article I had just finished, but had digested in parts throughout the day on my breaks. It was hard to read, it had left me distracted, this would have been better done at home. Now I would have to seriously consider giving this to Lucinda and Tavish, people who were neutral on the topic but scarred deeply by the previous war. 

What was a fourteen year old boy to do when faced with great evil? Was he to grab it by the hand to haul it back for witnesses? Or do what small good he could manage in a horrifying situation and return a young man’s body to his family? Even if he had the foresight to know he would not be believed. 

Was I now in a country at war? A war so quiet that people were able to ignore it and it's ills? Dismiss loss as accidental and not an act of hurt and pain upon another human being? 

I couldn't dismiss Harry Potter anymore. This account was vivid and raw. Too much and not enough in a way. 

I realized only one question remained to me.

What should I do now?

Oo0Oo0

March 5, 1996

VIRTUS PRIMARY DECLARED FOR GRAVES

Oh… Oh no!

I looked at the flower painting on the wall. I turned to look out the window to the false sunny day, listened to Percy’s calming tones as he spoke of something political with a laughing Eddie, anything to distract myself from what I had just read. It was not my desired outcome. I had to read on. 

The final votes of the Virtus Party primary have declared Jack Graves of New York the winner with fifty-nine percent of the vote from party voters across the United States. His opponent, Senator Ismelda Wolfe of Georgia has gracefully conceded to the victorious candidate and vowed to support Senator Graves in the months leading to the Presidential election. After victory was declared, Senator Graves announced his choice of running mate to the exuberant crowd at the Illinois Inglewood stadium. Governor Miguel Martinez and Senator Graves have been friends for many years and support many of the same political and social causes.

Senator Graves thanked the voters in a victory speech last night and now prepares for his next  debate against incumbent President Astrid Cunningham.

The Vice Presidential debate between Governor Martinez and current Vice President Samuel Vissar will be broadcast on radio networks at 7pm on March 15th. 

The first presidential debate will be held on public radio networks on March 24th at 7:30pm.

Future debates will be announced in the coming weeks.

Damn.

I was hoping Wolfe would come from behind and take my father out of the running. I guess that didn't happen. I'll have to keep a lower profile, candidates and their immediate families are provided Auror protection. They'll have to find me and I'll turn it down when they do.

Oh Isolt's wand! What if he wins? I can't deal with that! If he wins I'll have to decline protection in person and Aurors are sneaky.

Honestly, I was surprised I had not run into that issue yet. 

Either my privacy was being respected for the moment, the embassy was having a hard time finding me somehow or… Well, those were probably the only two options. Though, now that my father had won his primary election, I imagined efforts would step up to get in touch with me, especially if Elihu Weathers was set to arrive and fill the diplomatic post in the coming days. 

I would have to talk to him after he was settled. 

I needed to double down on my low profile, charm my clothing to add doubt to my image from a distance, reinforce that Jack Graves was a particularly deplorable, distant cousin of mine if asked.

My name was in the paper when listed as one of the offspring of this candidate- Merlin! Um… Audrey was a family name. Yes, I had met Jack Graves’ daughter. She was a sad dour creature who dressed like a crypt-keeper. Last I heard she was in Canada studying burial rituals. This whole thing was just confusion on the government’s part. MACUSA was not known for their forays into international intelligence, that incident with confusing Cuba and Hawaii should be a prime example.

I had to stay in the Minister’s employ, Fudge said he would confirm my story to anyone who was suspicious and seeds of doubt were enough to sway most people from a course. More persistent ones could be misdirected through other means. Staying exposed me to other dangers, but it offered me more through protections if needed. 

This was a going to be a mess, but I had time. No reason to be concerned yet.

Hopefully.

Oo0Oo0

March 7, 1996

I walked into the office after my lunch break to find the Minister conversing with a man who had a heavy New York accent. I was surprised by the familiar sound and enunciation under it. 

"Thank you for inviting me!"

I definitely recognized that voice. 

Elihu Weathers was a former senator for the state of New York, he was of average height, wore glasses and had an easy, affectionate manner about him. His kind eyes belayed a ferocious temper on the senate floor, where his past as a prominent, fiery lawyer often came into play. For a man who was in his early forties he was very well accomplished and made his leap into politics by prosecuting the representative who assaulted Valencia Talbot. He did not get to act as a senator for very long before his wife's passing, and he chose to step back for a time, but he made an impression during his short time in office. Enough of one to have a place of trust for the sitting MACUSA president, who asked him to go into a potential war zone to keep an eye on things.

I felt my lips pull back in a smile as Weathers looked away from the Minister for a moment to meet my eyes from across the room.

"Audrey!" He strode over towards me a few quick steps before pulling me into a hug. "It's good to see you! Is this where you've been?" He let me go and shook me by the shoulders playfully, his smile crooked and manner light. "I knew you had chutzpah, but not the run across the world kind!"

"I got an offer I couldn't refuse!" 

He leaned in closer, "A good one? I did teach you how to get out of bad deals right?"

"It's a good one, Senator. Don't worry."

"Senator? God, kid, I'm not your boss anymore. Elihu’s fine."

I nodded, he was right, but Senator Weathers was still something that wanted to roll off my tongue with the merest prompting at hearing his rather thick New York accent again. His tone was quick and harsh like hail in a blizzard, sharp and decisive with flat vowels. I did not know how much I missed hearing people who spoke like me until that moment.

I shifted slightly only to make eye contact with Percy in the office doorway, his brow furrowed in a confused, annoyed stare as he focused on Elihu, something… annoyed in his expression. Eddie was already inside glancing between Percy and myself with amusement dancing in his eyes. 

I'll have to warn Elihu about the English love affair with the letter U. 

And tea.

There was too much tea in this country. 

"My speeches on the floor really dropped after you went back to school." Elihu continued, oblivious to the looks he was getting from the door. "Una is a nice girl but she was more suited for research than punchy speech endings."

I laughed quietly as Percy moved towards his desk a few feet away. 

"Ah, Weathers," Minister Fudge spoke up and motioned towards Percy, who's back straightened immediately. "This is my personal assistant, Percy Weasley. He handles my schedule and if you need a meeting with our office or need a name, you can go through him. Percy, this is the new MACUSA diplomat, Elihu Weathers."

Percy and Elihu shook hands with quick greetings. Elihu had an easy, stern confidence that contrasted harshly with Percy's usual stuffiness. It did not take long for Elihu to start engaging Percy in policy discussions, he always liked to prod people, often saying it was the best way to learn about them. Only, this quickly became less prodding and more of an intellectual bout about government structure and policy. They both liked to talk, I had almost forgotten how much Elihu could talk about things.

"I was a senator, I thought I could do more good than being a lawyer at that point. Tell me how it works here. It's more of a council system right? How do you all do elections?"

Eddie and I exchanged a look before shrugging and going back to our desks as Elihu left with Percy and the Minister for a meeting and information exchange in what should hopefully be a long, diplomatic relationship. 

Before Elihu returned to the MACUSA Embassy a couple of hours later, he extended me an invitation for us to catch up on MACUSA affairs over coffee. I ignored Percy's piercing stare in our direction as I accepted, I needed to discuss a variety of issues with my old mentor in relation to my father's career prospects.

I had no idea why Percy was so clearly annoyed by Elihu. I assumed Percy found Elihu's accent a bit grating for someone who spoke with such careful, proper enunciation. Well, he'll get over it in a few weeks. 

Chapter Text

March 11, 1996

Elihu’s consulate office was still being unpacked, there were boxes in the corner and books resting peacefully on the shelves next to portraits of previous notable diplomats who were resting contently in their frames. Only diplomats who were praised as particularly wise and effective were honored with portraits of their likeness to support the current administration. 

The embassy office was old, proud and believed they had nothing to gain from foolish advice.

Notably, there was no representation on the wall from 1809 through 1813.

There was a very significant issue involving the No-Maj White House and magical trade agreements.

Elihu Weathers had mentored me in politics and law, filling in any gaps that my Jack Graves did not fill at my dining room table as a child. My father was my first political teacher, Alex was my second but Weathers stood a cut above the two of them. He was honest, blunt, and willing to argue about things in good faith. He always knew when his temper was getting the best of him and was able to rein it in.

Senator Weathers filled in the many large areas where my father was lacking. 

I took a seat in the empty chair across from his desk and looked at the pictures.

The one that caught my attention was the one of him and his wife Elaine. They were laughing for the camera. Elihu had his arm over Elaine’s shoulders, her dark hair blowing in the wind as she whispered something in ear that made him laugh. They looked so happy.

I went to Elaine’s funeral the previous summer. It was a quiet affair but it was hard to take my eyes off Elihu’s face. He looked so lost.

The door behind me clicked open and Elihu stepped inside with a quick word to his secretary.

“Audrey! Glad to see you.”

“Good to see you too.” 

Elihu moved to sit on the other side of the desk and sat in the large leather chair that was too big for him in some ways. It was bigger than the one from his old senate office. Perhaps to make him look more imposing to visitors.

“What brings you to my humble office?”

“I’ll get to the point.” My voice was firm and decisive, “what right to privacy do I have from MACUSA? I’m a legal adult, but I’m impacted by my father’s choices like a child. How would I go about being hard to find for anyone looking for dirt and scandal?”

Elihu leaned back in his chair and played with his wedding band in thought, a habit I remembered from my days as his intern.

“Not much of a right to privacy. We have a free press. Your father wins the presidency, you become the only first child the press can get to because your younger brother is a baby, Annette is in school, protected by teachers and wards and laws, and only god knows where Alex is.” He paused and looked at me thoughtfully. “Did you come here to look for him?”

I nodded, “I’ve had no luck.”

“Then he’s not a concern at this point.”

I looked at Elihu with a raised eyebrow. 

“He’s so far off the map that he may as well be in another dimension. You have bigger, more immediate problems. My advice to you is to make yourself unplottable.”

“I get owls from work, I need to be found in some capacity."

“Alright, we’ll come back to that. You said you were living with your great-aunt?”

“Yes.”

“Use her and her home as a front, I can leave her address on file as the best way to reach you while you move out to an apartment if you still want to do that?”

“I do! I found a nice place and I'm moving in a few months.”

“That’s great! I’ll leave Lucinda’s home as your address here, we’ll say it was a filing error and you forgot to tell us.”

That would be a start, and a good idea. 

“The embassy does not give out residence details to the press or public, something I am sure you know.” He gave me a wry smile.

My initial days in England involved me bothering the visa clerk about Alex. Elihu said that the poor woman still talked about it when we met for coffee.

“That should be enough to tie up the American press for a while if you keep a low profile.”

“And the Auror protection? Can I leave a rejection letter with you for them?”

“You can, but should your father become president he will have the ability to overrule it.”

“He won’t.” My voice was confident and steady. 

Elihu gave me a stern look. “Your father does love you.” 

"If love means acting I spend my life as a sentient lamp for his image then I want no part of it."

"I know you have a complicated relationship, but parents may not always like their children, but they do care about them."

"Reading poetry again, boss?"

"No, just an observation," Elihu smiled. "

"If things go the way Cunningham thinks they are, even if your father loses, you may want to be ready to go back to the states."

I nodded. Harry Potter told that story with to much conviction to lie about it it was a consistent tale of tragedy, triumph and terror for things to come. Though I knew I would never return to the United States, I did not want to have that conversation with my old mentor right now.

“I’m not familiar with the laws regarding the privacy of the families of public figures. Would you be able to explain it to me?"

Elihu began to explain the concept and origin of the privacy laws for children of major government officials. He was very informative about the matter. I knew some of the historical context, but the nitty gritty details of the law were confusing to me due to my unfamiliarity with that topic. Many laws were full of silly details and obscure loopholes to get around a topic. Clearly this was one of them.

After an incident where a Scouror got a copy of the New York Ghost and kidnapped the child of the Vice President of MACUSA on her way home from visiting her No-Maj grandparents, a discussion was opened in regards to the right to privacy for politicians' families upon her retrieval. There was pushback to this idea if limiting the exposure of children, being a candidate with a family proved personal stability. So a bargain was struck after much money and bribes were exchanged behind the scenes. The law protects underage children from being photographed and stalked on school and private grounds, photographers are not allowed within five miles of Ilvermorny, or other magical schools, unless they have permission from the headmaster, principal or the parents. School events are the exception, such as Quadpot or dueling competitions. In short, we forced some ethics on journalists. A difficult task for many I assumed.

Laws for adult children were a little different. Under normal circumstances, they would get to live life on their own terms, but as the child of a world figure who is the head of one of the Great superpowers of the magical world, the president gets a say in who in his immediate family circle gets offered protection after the age of 17. The person in question apparently has the right to reject if they are deep in their private life, have jobs overseas, etc. But there was a loophole that allowed the president the right to overrule if it is felt that the person in question is in a dangerous situation or could become a pawn against MACUSA or the secrecy of the magical world. The immediate relative in question then needs to tell the assigned Aurors directly that they decline the protection of MACUSA in person under a spell of rejection of service. Much like a house elf.

“That’s stupid.”

“That’s politics.”

I slumped in the chair as Elihu handed me a glass of juice. 

I was screwed.

Oo0Oo0

March 12, 1996

I knocked on the door to the Minister’s office, stepping inside with the noise of acknowledgement. I had to time this meeting while both Percy and Eddie were out of the office running errands of some sort, I encouraged Eddie to take an early lunch and Percy went on to go look for some files. It was not difficult to clear out the room for a few minutes, but the rarity of unbothered time with the Minister of Magic was a precious commodity and I would need every moment I could gather as I planned for a life of hiding in closets and avoiding human contact.

Perhaps I could join a nunnery? I was not religious, but it would be the last place anyone would look for me.

“Minister,” I opened the door and stepped inside, closing the door behind me with a soft click.

“Ah, Audrey!” Minister Fudge gave me a bright smile and put his papers on his desk. “Come in! Have a seat.”

“Thank you,” I took the offered seat and allowed my nerves to settle as the Minister gave me a paternal smile. “How’s Elizabeth?”

Something in his countenance shifted, a genuine concern that he was quick to mask. “Fine! She’ll be home in another week or so. She just needs some more rest.”

I nodded, remembering how I was turned away at the visitors center after that incident with Broderick Bode. They did say they would screen the flowers before bringing them up to her room. I left a get well soon card as part of the package.

“Eliza wanted me to thank you for the flowers.”

“I’m glad she likes them.”

The conversation was casual for the moment, we had a quick discussion of the state of the greenhouse before I could breach the topic.

“Minister,” I took a deep breath. “You made me an offer with regards to my father a few months ago.”

“Yes, I did.” He sighed, “I saw the paper, Weasley looked suspicious but I just reaffirmed to him that Graves was one of your many cousins like you asked. He seems satisfied with that. You don’t really look too much like your father.”

I favored Grandma Ophelia and my own mother, the only things I got from Jack were political acumen, and thick black hair. My eyes were a dark blue where Jack’s were dark like coal. Jack Graves spoke like his mother had taught him, a very old school manner that he managed to convert to a heavier northern fast talk to Ophelia’s upper-crust eastern tones from the turn of the century. I just sounded like I was from Albany.

"You mentioned the opportunity to take a transfer to another department if he was successful, is that still on the table?"

Minister Fudge paused and looked at me for a moment. "It is."

"The election is on July seventh, I need to know if that is something you will honor if needed."

"It would be, but my honest opinion is if he does win you might be better off staying here."

I tilted my head slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I hold most of my meetings in the conference room down the hall, meetings that you have no risk of sitting in on. If it's with the American embassy I'll get Smith to take notes or file if Weasley's out sick. Smith likes a change of pace occasionally."

I nodded in agreement. Eddie was a bouncy person.

"My point being that I have control of everything that happens on this floor. Who has permission to be here and where they go. Perhaps that could be something to consider."

It was. Important international meetings would not be held in the Minister's office. The conference room down the hall was big with pretty paintings, soft carpet and comfortable chairs. If I were a world leader I would prefer to show that off instead of my office.

"You may have a point."

Besides, I doubted they would be able to fill the secretary position in a hurry. 

"We can talk more about it if it happens and make a plan you're happy with."

"Of course, Minister. Thank you for your time."

Oo0Oo0

March 22, 1996

Elizabeth Fudge died as she lived, quietly and out of the public eye.

The mood in the office was grim. The usual, polite smack talk of the office was tempered with silence and the rustling of parchment. The Minister asked for his meetings to be cancelled so he could spend the day with his wife and he did not come back to work for several days. 

Elizabeth took a very sudden downturn after he arrived.

An invitation to her funeral arrived for myself, Tavish and Lucinda, along with Eddie and Percy. The mood was somber and reflective. The funeral would be after work, there was a mountain of paperwork with the Minister out and the three of us filling in the gap.

I took longer in the filing room than was necessary, crying quietly into a file drawer of financial reports, which a distant part of me noted was oddly appropriate. 

Nobody said anything about my puffy eyes and swollen face when I collected myself and returned to my desk. Percy just brought me a glass of water and a box of tissues.

When he wasn't behaving like a toady, he was very nice.

We left the office early and a few somber statements of "See you in an hour," and went our separate ways.

Oo0Oo0

Lucinda and I walked into the funeral home, I was surprised by the crowd. There were all the people I had met at the parties Lucinda made me go to, all of them members of the Apothecary Society and Gardening Clubs that Elizabeth frequented and was active in. I saw Ministry officials talking quietly in a corner under oak archways and green drapes. 

Una Irvine was adjusting some flowers in a vase nearby while speaking with Tavish who was nodding along with what she was saying with a stoic expression. Lucinda pressed against me and put her arm through mine to keep herself steady. 

"This is a bigger turnout than I thought it would be," Lucinda said in a low voice.

She was right. There were at least a hundred people here. Many from the Ministry and some as representatives from the various consulate offices.

I nodded. "There are a lot of people here."

The only place Elizabeth could not escape her role as the Minister if Magic's wife was in death. 

A chill ran through me as thoughts of my father ran through my head.

How ironic.

First children were part of the image a president wanted to project. He had two cute, well behaved younger children that he could parade out for events. A wife who was as dim as she was beautiful. Also two older children who had done very well at Ilvermorny. 

There was a history of first children who led war efforts, who went to fight in times of war. I am sending my children to war because this fight is necessary. There is no choice because the enemy grows stronger every day. First children had access to powerful allies and remained pawns of their parents in many cases.

Theodore Fallow died while fighting in the Dragon unit during World War One. He inhaled poison and fell out of the sky with his dragon, landing in the ocean. 

Westeria Rowan was a spy during World War Two, reporting on enemy movements and destroying their resources when able. She was captured, ransomed and chose suicide over surrender.

Keisha Grey led Union spy forces during the Civil War, stopping Confederate allies from taking hold of MACUSA headquarters in New York and destabilizing the No-Maj government in DC. She was the only one her mother trusted with the task.

Lucinda and I moved forward, her arm in mine. We gave the appropriate greetings to the Minister, who welcomed us with a watery smile before we moved to a pair of empty chairs nearby. The low clammer of chatter around us in a persistent hum.

"The decorations are lovely," Lucinda said blankly as she looked at the coffin at the front of the room. Her voice was lower than usual, even more controlled than usual. Forced really. "Liz would have liked it." Lucinda bit her lower lip before composing herself. "Death is a natural thing, but it's worse for the living."

I nodded in agreement, memories of my mother's death and funeral flooded my mind with bitter recollection. 

Elizabeth had been so kind to me. She told me stories about my mom that even Lucinda didn't know. Stupid things about staying up late to talk about boys while on patrol, putting spiders in a mean girl's bag, silly things that meant something to me to hear, that my mother was a real person and at some point had a pretty good life.

I wiped my eyes, my throat was too tight to speak for the moment. Lucinda had said everything that needed to be said.

"Is anyone sitting here?" A familiar voice caught my attention and made me look up.

Percy's hair was freshly combed and his funeral robes were carefully pressed. He fixed the black tie at his neck with a nervous gesture.

"No, go right ahead." I motioned to the empty chair next to me and looked back at Lucinda. "Auntie, this is Percy Weasley, one of my coworkers. Percy, this is my great-aunt Lucinda Ainsley."

Percy and Lucinda shook hands before Percy took the empty seat next to me. Lucinda looked Percy over with her hawkish gaze as her glasses slid down her nose as they exchanged pleasantries. Lucinda gave me a scouring look. I shrugged, not entirely sure what exactly the problem was. Funerals were not exactly family bonding events and the chairs were filling up quickly. 

The service soon began, the words fading to senseless as the finality came upon me. I knew Elizabeth securing this post had changed my life in some fashion. I felt more confident then I had back in the United States, I felt suitably challenged at my job and got along with my coworkers. Through Elizabeth I had begun to know my mother, not as the sickly woman in a failing marriage, but as a bright happy schoolgirl. Lucinda and Tavish filled in the rest of the gaps and I felt that she was more of a person then a vague figure now.

Death was a simple thing that brought up all kinds of questions for the philosophical, but philosophy was not something I could spare much interest in. Lucinda sniffled next to me and I took her hand, Percy’s hands played with an handkerchief and he gave me a tired smile when I glanced at him. There was no right way to grieve or honor someone’s life, but the pain of the moment would hopefully fade to a bittersweet joy. 

Percy handed me his handkerchief when I started to cry. 

Chapter Text

April 1, 1996

It took me a moment to recognize the Embassy Aurors entering the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. It was two of them, they wore the black robes of the MACUSA Aurors like agents of death and justice, a murder of crows who scoured the battlefield to deliver the final mercy to the enemy, be that mercy life or death. MACUSA Aurors had the implicit permission to make judgment calls about if a suspect would arrive alive to trial, or if they should fall on the battlefield for being too dangerous or a threat to the isolation of the magical world.

Seeing them in the more passive, less isolationist Ministry of Magic was very odd.  

I met the eyes of the younger of the two Aurors as I observed who they were escorting. It was Elihu Weathers, he was flipping through a packet of papers talking to the senior Auror with a clear irritation by the occasional wave of his arms. I remembered that there was going to be a meeting, I just did not expect it to be right after my lunch break. The younger Auror broke into a broad, happy smile that featured shiny white teeth and glittering dark eyes. The gold earring shone in the low lights on the walls.

“Audrey?”

The uniform made him look very grown up.

“Quincy?”

His face lit up and waited until he had the approval of the older woman at Weathers' other side before running across the atrium with outstretched arms and a joyous noise.  

"Auror Laurent!" Quincy stopped short a few feet away from me, his back stiff and chest thrown out like a soldier at attention at the senior Auror's tone. I stumbled forward into empty air where I figured Quincy would actually end up. "Are you a giggly school girl?"

"No Chief!

"Are you representing the MACUSA Aurors abroad?"

"Yes Chief!"

"Then act like it! I've met your mother, she raised you better than to squeal like a stuck pig!"

Aunt Araminta would squeal like a schoolgirl at the drop of a hat before squeezing the life out of you in a hug. She was loving that way and also smelled of spices and candles, which was very comforting. Uncle John ran a bar in the French Quarter and was always looking for new things to put on the menu for his customers. Mostly fancy wines. 

I looked at the embarrassed, but still smiling Quincy while Elihu snickered behind his hand.

"Auror Laurent?" I teased with a smug grin. 

The black robes of the Aurors looked good on Quincy. He looked more grown up, bigger, stronger and more capable than he probably was at this point in his life. The collar was trimmed in white and the crest of crossed wands rested on both of his shoulders, giving him an air of authority and danger that was unusual on my sweet natured cousin.  

"With Uncle Jack running for president it seemed like a good idea to use my mom's maiden name while overseas."

Ugh, that was smart. Why didn't I think of that when I got here? Right, money and paperwork. Mostly money, though I would have been unable to change my paperwork without waiting several weeks for it to come back to me and I would have done something stupid by then. 

"I thought you were going to be an apprentice Auror for another few months?"

Quincy's grin widened in pride. "Cassie and I sat the exam early to take the open posts at the embassy with our mentors on their requests, since we've decided to get engaged and all and want to stay together."

I started bouncing in excitement. "Congratulations!"

Thank you! Cassie and I have bodyguard training with them here, but we're functioning Aurors in our own right to a point!"

"That's great! I'm so happy for you both!" I pulled Quincy into a hug. They were so good for each other. I would have to ask Cassandra about the proposal and the ring. Quincy would treat it like no big deal and Cassandra acted the same way to a point, but would give a lot more details.

Though I'm sure that means something is brewing back in the States if they're assigning first year Aurors to an embassy post.

Quincy noticed my furrowed brow and leaned closer to me to whisper in my ear. "There's dark cult activity going on in the states and rumors of a werewolf uprising. It seemed pointless to build new teams if Cass and I already worked so well with our mentors who signed up to work at the embassy office." He paused. "Mankiller says we'll probably see action here in any case."

There had always been cults at work in the United States, many of them were manageable and fairly easy to find. Cults of crazy tended to scream from the rooftops about conspiracies and were generally only dangerous to the statute of secrecy and exposing the community to Scourers, No-Majs who believed in, and actively hunted, wizards. Dark cults were different, they had a focus on disturbed magic, dark arts and human sacrifice tend to go together very easily. If some No-Maj goes missing in the woods, it’s not uncommon to never find them again. No-Maj children who could be snatched off the street and spirited away to never be found by No-Maj law enforcement were not uncommon as they were offered to whatever god this particular cult believed in. We never seemed to hear about those cases until it was too late, we had never been very good at keeping track of those among us to were prone to such terrible actions. 

I couldn't say that was exciting, but Quincy sure seemed to think so by the light in his eyes.

"It’s nice to you all again! I can escort you up to the Minister's office for your meeting if you want?"

Quincy threw his arm over my shoulders and looked at his mentor with pleading eyes. "Please Temperance?"

Temperance Hanlon looked at Quincy with a perfectly raised eyebrow. I knew her from MACUSA, she was by all accounts a fine Auror whose family ran a ranch for winged horses. She was in early middle age with bright brown eyes, olive skin and thick chestnut hair; the scar on the side of her face only made her look tougher and more charming. Quincy's chipper grin seemed to win her over for a moment.

"Fine."

"Great!" Quincy squeezed me against his side, knocking my head against his shoulder in an act of cousinly violence as he pulled me towards the elevator. "Come on, Aud. I want to hear about the food here."

"It's got nothing on your Cajun gumbo."

"Please don't tell me-"

"It's as bland as you think, Q."

"Dammit!"

“Do they have sweet tea here at least?”

“No.”

“What?”

The four of us stepped into the elevator, swapping notes on places to get good food while Quincy left his arm over my shoulder to be annoying and haul me around at his discretion, which I didn't mind. It was good to see a familiar face and Quincy clearly missed me as much as I missed him. The elevator opened at the Minister's floor and Quincy followed me out as the group of us continued to talk, our conversation drifting to the New York Snidgets getting knocked out of the Quadpot league in their last match before the semifinals.

"A horrible loss," Elihu lamented. "Just embarrassing."

"Evans was hungover and puked on a child from midair," Temperance rolled her eyes. "Poor kid. The family got free tickets to the Quadpot finals as compensation."

Glad they got compensation, but… Ew…

Quincy threw his arm over my shoulders again and rested his remaining hand on the wand holster on his hip with a laugh. "I'd put up with a lot of things for free Quadpot tickets, but not that. This hair takes a lot of work, I'd have to shave my head to erase the memory!"

Elihu laughed, "Yeah, Auror Queball. Greatest of all time."

I giggled while Quincy rolled his eyes with a grin. "That's what my girl tells me."

"More than I ever needed to know, Quincy." Temperance sighed and fixed her collar, "And I know way too much about you and your girlfriend to begin with."

"Because we're gonna last forever," Quincy gave a lovelorn sigh, "Right Audie?"

There was a dry cough from behind us.

"The Minister is ready to see you."

I turned as much as I was able to see Percy's red hair standing out against the white walls of the hallway. 

"Good!" Elihu stepped forward with a slight grin. "We'll talk more later, Audrey."

Temperance followed after him with a solemn nod, while Quincy pulled me into a hug and planted a sloppy kiss on my cheek to be annoying before following his mentor with a happy expression into the conference room nearby leaving Percy and I alone in the hallway.

It was quiet for a moment before he broke the silence.

"I suppose I should congratulate you on your new… relationship."

I didn't recall having an old one.

I wiped the spit off my cheek. Quincy did this to annoy me, southern affection was warm and wonderful, but Quincy loved to make a target of his frigid northern cousins.

"The Ministry does have rules about public fraternizing-"

Huh? Did he think we were…?

"Quincy is my cousin."

Percy stopped talking immediately and had the good sense to look embarrassed.

"He does that to annoy me and his sister. His fiancee says he does the same thing to her."

Percy's face had turned a bright red all the way to the tips of his ears. He muttered a quick apology to me before heading into the conference room. 

There is no incest here, Percy.

Oo0Oo0

April 2, 1996

"Unbelievable! Where is he hiding?" The Minister fumed and huffed as Aurors Dawlish and Shacklebolt joined our morning meeting with a chart and list of known associates of one Albus Dumbledore. 

Needless to say, I was quite confused until Percy handed me the Daily Prophet where the headline stated in a bold print. 

Dumbledore Confesses to Child Army

What the hell?

Percy's smile was smug as he leaned down towards me to give me the short version. I could smell the warm, spicy smell of his cologne, thankfully he used less than Nobby Clark.

"He confessed to everything," Percy's voice was low as I watched Fudge and Dawlish work through theories of where Dumbledore could have gone while Shacklebolt stood off to the side reading another map. "Fudge said he was building an army and he was right!"

"An army… of school children?"

"It's the indoctrination we want to prevent."

Do you even hear yourself?

I pinched the bridge of my nose to try and push back a fast brewing headache.

"It's the principle of the thing," his tone was pretentious and edged with pride at exposing Dumbledore for what he was in the eyes of the Ministry as he stepped away from me.

"We have already asked Aberforth and he said he's not seen him in months." Auror Dawlish said as he pointed at the list. "We do have reports that he has gone to Albania."

Albania?

What reason would he have to go to Albania?

"How many more Aurors can we send after him?" Fudge looked at Dawlish, a kind of manic glee in his eyes. It was the most energy I had seen from him since his wife passed away.

"Scrimgeour has put everyone on high alert for Dumbledore and informed our allies that he is now regarded as an enemy of the state."

I felt my stomach drop to my ankles.

"Has there been an offer of an international manhunt?"

"Minister Trembly has said they will keep an eye on the borders, per the CAM embassy representative."

"And the Americans?"

"Representative Weathers has relayed the message that MACUSA is sure we can handle this management of a former Supreme Mugwump."

Fudge rolled his eyes. "Smartarse."

I struggled to keep my face neutral. 

While Dumbledore had a drop in popularity in America over his support for Harry Potter, MACUSA and the Graves family always remained quietly grateful for Dumbledore's defeat of Grindelwald after he made a martyr of my great-uncle Percival Graves. If that really was the response from MACUSA I was sure that my father or a cousin of mine had some say in the matter that was enough to sway President Cunningham on the matter of Dumbledore. We would not offer him shelter, but we would not interfere.

"Is Madam Umbridge taking over the running of Hogwarts, Minister?" Percy asked as Eddie crossed his arms in front of his chest thoughtfully.

"Yes, and she will do a wonderful job regaining control of Hogwarts. McGonagall is too close to Dumbledore to manage effectively, so we have overruled the usual procedures of Hogwarts succession.”

“Really?” Eddie asked from where he stood in front of his desk, leaning against it looking far more comfortable than I felt at the moment. “Do we really have the right to overrule tradition that way? Deputy Heads are chosen for their teaching experience and management usually.”

"She's said for years she's good with children," Fudge nodded his head over the papers. “That’s all a teacher needs to be in any case.”

There was a collection of nods around the room, though I remained perfectly still. 

By. The. Twelve. 

How… How stupid were these people?!

How the fuck were they leading a country?

Teaching is a respected profession, it is not just babysitting groups of children when you could pay a teenager to do it. It is providing knowledge and training to young wix in a safe environment that sometimes a home does not provide and this seat of government has the gall to just ignore that on a broken pedestal of principles? 

Fudge’s voice broke through my thoughts with something that set my teeth on edge. “I have given Dolores permission to administer veritaserum to the members of Dumbledore’s Army to get to the bottom of the matter, no telling how brainwashed they are.”

What? I’m pretty sure that is some kind of crime! Or at least the kind of questionable ethics that a government leader does not need to admit to any knowledge of! 

I wanted to scream!

If Percy did not not stop bobbing his head like a chicken to every ignorant word that escaped Fudge’s mouth I was going to strangle him!

Percy. Percy you are so much smarter than this. 

My temper crackled and surged under my skin.

"Excuse me,” I mumbled, “I'm going to go get some water."

"Oh, I need to get some more tea.” He summoned his tea mug from his desk with a flick of his wand. “Long week, you know."

Yeah, and to think it's only Tuesday.

Fudge waved us off as he returned to the original topic of the army of school children led by Dumbledore and Harry Potter, while I slipped out of the office to get a glass of water so I could collect myself and bite my tongue. A task I found increasingly difficult as Percy began to fill me in on the details of the headmaster's confession of plotting against the Ministry.

“Of course I was sent off to send an owl to the Daily Prophet-”

You were probably very lucky.

“-When I returned, Dumbledore was gone! Rode a phoenix right out of Hogwarts! The cheek!”

Percy spoke like an old man or a schoolmarm once in a while, something I usually find funny but I was still too taken aback by the story he was telling me to find it so.

The fact that everyone was still alive told me a lot about the now former headmaster’s patience for idiocy. If he really wanted to stage a coup and take over the Ministry, the simplest thing would have been to kill Fudge in the office, imperius the witnesses, choose someone to take a fall for killing the minister and step right into office with the support of those who could collaborate any story he told. 

Though, why would he want to be the Minister of Magic? He rejected the job so many times over the last several years.

But nobody would listen to me on that count. It made too much sense.

Percy and I arrived in the breakroom, he immediately lit a fire under the kettle. The Tea Witches would come and go on their own time, sometimes it was just easier to make one’s own tea instead of waiting for them to see if they needed to come for a refill. Besides, being a Tea Witch was a part-time job for elderly witches who wanted to have some reason to get out of bed in the morning. 

“You don’t have to worry about a thing, Audrey. We’ll find Dumbledore and bring him to justice, he can’t run forever.”

I heard the crackle of fire on the small stovetop, which did nothing for my nerves or to slow what was quickly becoming a problem with impulse control.

I got a glass and filled it from the faucet, counting backwards from ten.

“How many places could he possibly go where we can’t find him? Not many, I assure you.”

I did not need assurance. I needed a pain killer. 

“Let me get this straight,” my voice and tone surprised me, it was far calmer than I really felt and a lower register than I ever used for speaking. I sounded like my father when he was getting ready to lecture someone for doing something… unfathomably stupid.

I had seen my father chew out a reporter for asking a question that managed to be stupid and offensive, I could not recall the question but it did end in my articulate, well spoken father using small words and speaking slowly to the fool reporter as if he were a child. It became something that had to be managed later because word got around about his vaguely... mocking and dismissive tone, even if that particular reporter was known for such stupidity. 

It was said that children emulated their same sex parent in many ways, but there were points in my life where I felt more like I was becoming a more pleasant version of my father instead. Moments like these were a prime example. 

Percy seemed oblivious to the quiet rage in my eyes and the low dangerous tones that seemed to reverberate through my body. He continued to make his tea with an oblivious smile as he nodded to let me know he was listening.

"Did you really think that you would waltz into the home of the most powerful wizard of the modern age, and arrest him?" Percy stopped and looked at me with a furrowed brow, his jaw set and seemingly readying to defend his point of view and thereby the Ministry. That was clearly what he was not expecting to hear. "That two Aurors, two career bureaucrats and a teenager could hold him off and arrest him as if your public enemy number two was some common Dust dealer?"

“I hardly think that’s an apt description of the matter!”

“Really? I think it’s perfectly apt, because that is what happened!”

Percy scoffed, “Dawlish and Shacklebolt are two of the most skilled Aurors in the Ministry’s employ. Dumbledore’s skills are greatly exaggerated.” 

"The man defeated Grindelwald!”

"Forty years ago!"

“Still one more world threat than Dawlish and Shacklebolt have managed.”

“Dumbledore wants to take over the Ministry!”

“If he wants to become Minister, why hasn’t he tried to do it before now? What sense does it make to ruin his entire reputation at home and abroad before trying to do it? Please explain in what world that makes any sense at all? Because I sure don’t understand the logic!”

The rage in Percy’s eyes did not dissipate, but he also seemed to have forgotten how to blink. 

"You have a lot to learn about politics Percy, and until you learn those things you'll be used by people dumber than you for the rest of your life!" 

I stormed out of the break room and back to the office, my face flushed with rage and embarrassment. I would not apologize for that. No. No I would not! I was right, he was wrong. This system was stupid and broken but it needed to function and be led by people who were actually capable of leadership and good decision making. My steps slowed as I took a couple of deep breaths to calm myself down, pushing back the stray hairs that had sprung free of my bun, my bangle bracelets tingled softly next to my ear before I stepped inside the office. 

It was a short couple of steps to my desk where I reached for the headache potion that I had taken to keeping in my desk drawer, popping the disposable cork into the trash can and knocking back the vial the way Zara did her drinks while the thicket of idiots continued their congress on the matter of being outsmarted by an old, powerful wizard.

It almost made me miss MACUSA.

Chapter Text

May 23, 1996

Fudge waved the paper around before slamming it on the table. "Who is writing this trite?"

I tilted my head slightly to look at the headline.

Government Corruption Starts with Leadership

That was not a paper I had ever seen in circulation before. I could see where Fudge's annoyance came from, another fringe newspaper he really had no control over. They just popped up all over the place but nobody really read anything other than the Daily Prophet.

"I have no idea, Minister, but I will find out," Percy responded as he added 'find insurgent paper headquarters'' to his list of things to do. It was probably not that exact thing, but the spirit was the same.

He had barely spoken to me since our argument in the break room last month. Just the barest form of nods, mumbling and occasional attempts at sign language which… I wasn’t talking to him either, so that was most of our communication was pointing at things and glaring at one another.

Eddie thought it was funny. He alluded that Percy had ranted to him about our little disagreement and Eddie thought it was hilarious. I think Eddie was seeing the cracks in this administration too, even if he did not believe Potter’s account. 

“No, Weasley, I need you to take notes at this meeting. Audrey!”

I almost spilled my coffee. 

“Yes Minister?”

“Find out who is running this paper and report back.”

I could feel Percy’s eyes piercing through me.

“Of course, sir.” 

I took the paper from the Minister as he and Percy gathered their paperwork to go to the meeting. I exchanged a look with Eddie as the door closed. We were silent for a few moments before Eddie broke it with a quip.

“Real chill in the air.”

I nodded in agreement. I knew what I said all those weeks ago, but I was right, Percy was wrong and he would realize it eventually once he figured out how to use his brain.

I set my copy of the Daily Prophet aside and examined this paper the Minister had given me. It was a very slim paper, not as thick as the other papers and more of a four page newsletter. 

Semper Honestus

Hm. Always honest huh?

It was a new paper, the date stated that it was established this year. Though…

The introduction of the paper's cause was to lay bare the corruption of government for the common man. They're corruption crusaders, good, we need more of those to keep political figures and administrations honest. 

This front page article spoke about numerous scandals and cover-ups that had allowed unsavory political scandals to come to fruition. I was struggling to see what was so bad about this paper until I turned the page to find a series of examples of corruption within the Ministry of Magic.

Ah. That was why Fudge was angry.

I read further down the paper, there was a compilation of data to provide numbers and data to how corrupt individual governments were on what we called the Wright Scale, after Rosalind Wright who pioneered the kind of data collection to help organize corruption data. Was she a partner or supporter? I did a paper on her a couple of years- Hold on.

The name of the headline reporter caught my attention. 

Alexander Graves.

My eyes flew back up to the publication date. This paper had only been active for a few weeks. The scratching of Eddie’s quill faded into the background as my hands shook and a smile broke out on my face. I… I had a lead. Laughter bubbled in my chest as I covered my mouth with my hand to stifle any escaping noise as I stared at my brother’s name in print.

None of my attempts to reach Alex by owlpost were successful. It would be easier to reach out to the paper itself. Though I saw no address for where the paper was even published or produced. I skimmed it for anything else I could use and froze again when I found another name familiar to me. 

Editor - Valencia Talbot

My stomach flipped and my chest went cold. Was she here? Had she recruited my brother for her corruption venture, knowing he would leap at the opportunity. 

I couldn’t give her to the Ministry, I would say Valencia Talbot was a pen name and that I was still looking for the editor. That was not uncommon for those who dealt with these kinds of things. 

I pulled out a piece of parchment and began to write a letter to Valencia Talbot.

Oo0Oo0

June 2, 1996

The park was beautiful. The small pond was had several ducks making noise and eating bread that was being fed to them by a couple of children. I took a seat at one of the nearby park tables and took in the cool evening air. I was excited. Nervous. Both emotions showing themselves though my tapping foot and tight chest. 

I would be fine. I would have some sort of answer tonight, hopefully it would be an answer I wanted and not something I would have to resign myself too. Everything would be fine.

I knew about Valencia from the article my brother had written, and had seen her in passing while I was growing up, but I had never really had a real conversation with her before. She was a tall, attractive woman with short boyish auburn hair and big glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. She had a warm, trustworthy face and a cynical gaze in her brown eyes. Valencia Talbot did not fit the image of the broken woman from the news article I had read as a fourteen year old girl, she looked worn, but quietly strong like she had seen the worst of people and came out a victor.

"Audrey Graves," she reached out her hand. "I'm Valencia Talbot."

"I'm glad to meet you!" 

We shook hands and Valencia took a seat across from me with an awkward smile as we sat in silence for a few moments, taking in the breeze off the pond and the view.

"I've been reading about your work," I broached the easiest topic I had. "I think what you're doing is amazing! I'm surprised no one else is doing anything like it."

"So was I. We're not different from No-Majs that way. We're all vulnerable to fascism and some power wanting to overthrow the government. If we can teach people what to look for, we can have more stable governments in the world.” Valencia paused, her eyes serious as she looked into my eyes and fixed her glasses. "But that's not the only reason why you wanted to speak to me today."

"No, it's not.” I took a deep breath, "It's about my brother, Alex."

Valencia tilted her head quizzically. 

I began to explain about my brother seemingly disappearing, that he had stopped submitting articles over a year ago to any of his regular newspapers. That the very last article he had written was for her organization's opening newsletter.

“I need to find him, I have looked here in England for close to a year and had no sign of him. Even if he never wants to see me again afterwards, I… I need the closure and if he never wants to see me again I won’t bother him. I just need to know he’s okay!”

Lucinda was thrilled that I had a lead on Alex, she hugged me close and said that if I could arrange to meet him in person, she would like to go as well and apologize for whatever she had said to him all those years ago. 

“If he’s still working for you, can you tell me where to find him?”

Valencia nodded as I spoke, taking in everything that I said with a neutral expression that I could not read. When I finished, she seemed to be somewhere else, somewhere I could not reach, her fingers drummed on the table between us before running her hand through her hair with a heavy sigh. 

"Do you really want to know everything or at least what I think about it? Because after I tell you… You clearly love your brother, maybe you can go through the rest of your life happier if you don't know. Think before you answer, because when I start you won't get to return to ignorance again."

I thought quietly, mulling over the words of this woman who looked at me with such a sad expression.

"I've come this far. Ignorance will not give me any peace." My stomach fluttered and my heart clenched as I took a deep breath. "Tell me everything."

The silence between us was not uncomfortable, it was crafted by a web of thoughts and a history that I only understood the bare bones of. I knew as much about Valencia as she knew about me. Two people on the outer edges of each other's orbits were finally colliding though their shared love for another person and all possibilities stood bare before us. 

"You know about what happened to me right?" 

I nodded slowly. “I know what went in the paper, but I don’t know much else.”

“I had gone to the law after my assault. Because I was from the foster system, they thought I was lying. That the good man they knew would not do something like that, let alone a prominent, respected politician would need to drug anyone to get them in bed. That women would be lining up to sleep with him willingly to gain favor, especially someone from my background.” She paused to collect her thoughts. "I knew your brother from school and I asked him to investigate, he was always so intense and focused and he had connections to help make my case that I could only dream of. Alex showed me kindness when I was struggling to show it to myself."

"You asked Alex to investigate the man who assaulted you."

"Yes. I didn't think I was the first, but I knew that I wanted to be the last." Valencia sighed. "Alex was willing to help me and from what he told me the last time I saw him, writing that article destroyed his family." Her glasses fogged with heat from her watery eyes. "I'm so sorry!"

My hand moved to grasp her hand, clutching it tightly. 

"Not your fault. It was never your fault. None of it was. My family was going to go to pieces over something, and it was never you. Alex and our father had issues for years, he knew what publishing that article would do and accepted it and I knew what I was going to lose by coming to look for him. Which was nothing. We lost nothing."

"Thank you.” She wiped her eyes. “You remind me of Alex you know? You both have that same look in your eyes, a steadiness that makes people trust you. What a dangerous gift."

She gave my hand a squeeze before pulling away, I folded my hands on the table in front of me. 

"Well, that article blew up and more women came forward about their assaults. I got my trial. He walked away because he was rich, powerful and I decided to leave the country and start my nonprofit. I had enough of corrupt politics."

"When did you meet Alex again?"

"We met up for the occasional lunch after I got to the country. He spoke about his latest investigations, I talked about the support for the nonprofit and lack thereof. He was very interested in my work, even in the early stages of research and elbow rubbing I had to do to get the paper off the ground.”

She grew quiet and I felt an answer sitting in the air, crackling and snapping like lightning.

"I read his investigation into a fascist organization that was active in Spain a couple of years ago. He went above and beyond, infiltrating the group from information and publishing his findings afterwords. I read the article and asked him to do something for me one last time."

I leaned forward, sick with anticipation or perhaps a premonition of what Valencia was going to tell me.

"There were Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup, then Harry Potter came back and named several of them after the Triwizard Tournament. I thought perhaps the boy was crazy, but then I thought that even if it was crazy, it would be worth looking into even as a human interest piece." She sighed. "I asked Alex to investigate the Death Eaters and find out everything he could about who they were and how they worked, just in case Potter was right."

I slumped back in my chair, my heart thudding loudly in my chest and throat.

"W-what next?"

"He agreed."

“You asked him to investigate a potentially active terrorist organization!”

“I asked him to write a political piece, not to join, Alex made that decision on his own!”

A cold chill consumed my body, my hands clutched my jacket and shook violently. He was in danger. My brother had investigated a group of fascist blood purists for a story? By the Twelve! When I found him, I was going to kill him!

“The last I heard from him, he had been welcomed as an initiate and he never wrote to me again.”

I felt like I was going to throw up…

“But… The newsletter?”

“Audrey,” Valencia was pale, like telling me these things had relieved her of a burden but putting everything to words had put it all fully into prospective. “Alex wrote that for me six months ago, data like that doesn’t change and he asked me to run it with my first newsletter."

“You haven’t heard from him in months?”

Valencia shook her head, “I don’t know who he was talking too, but they got him in. Which means the Death Eaters are active in some capacity, since Alex hasn’t bailed out I have to assume Potter is right.” 

“What do you know about the Death Eaters?”

“They’re dangerous. They’re pureblood supremacists, it was part of the reason I asked Alex to look into it, he’s got English pureblood credentials and is a fantastic occlumens. I thought he could at least fake it with some of those clowns who walked away from all charges with the Imperius curse excuse.”

That did not matter. The mind was fully capable of breaking under the right kind of torture. 

Alex did not like No-Majs, we heard a lot of stories about Scourers as children and in our history books, there a historical animosity there that he picked up from our father. He would use that to layer his mind for protection against those who could read minds. It was a trick I had read about in a book about great mind wix that was in the Byrgen House. 

“Voldemort’s people used the Imperius curse a lot during his rise to power. If Alex is involved, if he got caught, he could be under the Imperius curse. It may be why I haven’t heard from him.”

She did not voice the other option that hung over the pair of us like a dark cloud. 

The Graves family had valuable international connections, but someone would have to make the connection that Alex and I were related to that fool presidential candidate from the United States and not some side branch of the family like cousin Quincy. 

Oh, Merlin!

I… I had to find him!  

“There… There would be a lot of value to having a Graves as a kind of hostage.” I said quietly as my mind rushed with possibilities. “Even if we’re not publicly known to be Jack’s children, it would tie the hands of the embassy and the government… If word got out at all that he was willing, or just a hostage, it would contort Alex’s image and destabilize my father should he win the election.” 

Valencia nodded, “We didn’t know your father was planning to run when we cooked up this scheme. I would not have asked this of your brother if I knew and he would not have accepted if he did. Alex is foolish, not stupid.”

My chest felt tight and I had to struggle to focus my breathing. I was able to collect myself but I still felt short of breath and sick to my stomach.

“We need to find him and get him out of whatever he’s involved with.” I hunched forward, pressing my forehead against my clenched fists. “Tell me everything you know about Alex from the last five years. I know he’s taken a job with you, but I need to know about his personal life.”

"We… didn't talk much about our personal lives. He talked about the papers he worked for, you know him, he's a workaholic."

I nodded in agreement to encourage her to keep talking.

Valencia closed her eyes and pressed her lips together in a thin line as she thought. 

"I… I did ask him out on a date, but he let it slip that he had a girlfriend when he turned me down."

"Girlfriend?"

That was… new. Alex was not really interested in dating from my recollections, he wasn’t really one for people of any sort. He wanted to be alone with his books or the newspapers. Family life was not something my brother seemed interested in cultivating, he was indifferent and avoidant to children and I knew that would not be an attractive quality in most women. Alex was stubborn and would never change his mind on that. 

"I know! Never seemed the type," Valencia smiled wryly. "Wanted to be alone with his good quill."

"The falcon tail feather one I got him for Christmas right?"

"That's the one! He used that quill all through our last year of school. I think he wants to be buried with it."

I laughed quietly, "Did you get his girlfriend's name?"

"Hm… I asked about her. She had a weird name, Tula? No, Thalia! Her name is Thalia! He said they met during one of his investigations but that's all I know. She could be anywhere in Europe."

I doubted that. If Alex was serious about this girl then they would eventually have to be on the same continent. If Alex was serious enough to mention her by name, even by accident, then I was willing to bet she would be in the country, judging by his last publications and what was going on here in England.

"Have you tried to find this Thalia woman?"

Valencia sighed, "I did, but there's no trace of her. I can't get into the population records at the Ministry, I checked society memberships, guilds and the usual things people sign up for. She may have learned a thing or two about a low profile from your brother, though I'm starting to think it's the other way around."

Thalia. What an unusual name. Valencia did not have access to Ministry files the way I did, I might be able to talk to one of the secretaries to find out if there is one on file. It was a place to start.

"Could Thalia be her middle name maybe?"

"Could be, but I doubt it. I can't think of any names that could go in front of it smoothly. That's a first name for sure. Even if she goes by her middle name, it would still show up on social registries she signed up for."

"I'll check the Ministry records. I can at least try to get one of the secretaries there to help me if I have a good story."

I had met Miju on previous errands to the records office, she was a pleasant woman who loved flowers, had a young daughter and seemed to like me well enough. Though the head of the records office had an office manager who was a bit… overbearing. I may have to wait for the office manager to take a sick day. It was a start. Alex had tied our fates together for this moment. If he was alive or… no. I couldn't think about the other option, we would find out together in some manner. I had an ally now who knew Alex as well as, if not better, than myself. 

“If war is coming,” Valencia’s voice was quiet. “We need to be prepared.”

“I’m not leaving. Not without Alex.”

“I’m not leaving either. Honest press of any sort will rally people back home.” Valencia brushed her hair out of her eyes and adjusted her glasses. “Just be ready to disappear, Aud. I read the stuff on the last war and it was brutal.”

Valencia got to her feet and reached out her hand for me to shake. I clasped it, but Valencia grasped it tightly in her own as she began to speak again. “I am Valencia Talbot,” her hand began to glow and I saw her wand in her hand. “I reside in the Little Village in flat number sixty-two.” The light crawled around our hands in a glow like the sun. “Should you have need of me, come find me.” 

The magic held my hand in place for a moment while I thought and grasped my own wand. “My name is Audrey Graves, I will live in Demiguse House in flat forty-five at the end of the summer.” 

We parted amicably, Valencia apparating away with a pop leaving me in the fading light of the evening with a rush of nerves and a sick feeling in my stomach. Spying. Death Eaters. Voldemort.  

I had just gotten a real lead on my brother.

And I was beginning to think we were both in way over our heads.

Chapter Text

June 3, 1996

"Do not go poking around there! I'll handle it!"

"But Lucinda-!"

"No buts! I know these people. You don't. I would trust you to handle an American politician for the same reason you need to trust me to handle these purebloods.” Lucinda paced around her office, walking faster, the small heels of her shoes clicking and clacking like some kind of wooden machine from MACUSA. “Every little word they say, every bit of scandalous history, I can manage them in a way you can't. If Alex has been gone this long he may be with a younger group. If we handle this the wrong way, Alex won't get help if he needs it because we'll be dead ourselves!"

Lucinda returned to her desk and slumped down into her chair before slamming her fist on the desk with a bang. "That thrice damned fool!”

"Who are you going to talk to?"

"I'll start with the Averys, maybe Narcissa Malfoy, though you made her quite angry with your house elf comment I don't think she'll be helpful. Avery Junior is a bit scared of me, I can use that, but we can't bluntly ask, it would screw up anything Alex may be doing behind the scenes. You need to find the girlfriend!"

I nodded.

"I think it would be more useful to find the girl than pry anything out of those blood purists. It sounds like Alex really liked that girl if he mentioned her publicly, even if he didn't intend too. They may still be in touch."

"I was thinking the same thing."

Girls I knew from school would not tolerate a boyfriend disappearing for months at a time. Though, if she was seriously dating my brother, she may have been more independent in a lot of ways.

Which, through that thought process, told me a lot about Thalia.

Independent. Self-sufficient. Probably liked her alone time as much as Alex liked his. What if she was not even on the registries Valencia checked because she was in the country illegally? It was a theory, but I would have to confirm it first.

Miju could get me into the big records office if I said it was for the Minister. If Thalia was not in any of those I would have to try other ways of finding her. I needed her last name at the very least to try and send her a letter.

"Sounds good to me."

"Audrey," Lucinda's voice cut through the air like a knife. "Don't get caught. If what Potter said was true, then the Ministry was corrupted by rich Death Eaters a long time ago. Money speaks louder than words in a lot of ways."

I paused for a moment, "I thought you wanted me to marry rich?"

"Never going to let that go are you?"

I shrugged and laughed a bit. 

"I want you to be secure, not depraved." Lucinda took off her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose. "I thought that Malfoy was Imperioused, I thought a lot of them were. It made sense. They never seemed… Well, they didn't like muggles, but that's not unusual."

I was not a fan of the nonmagical, but I would never set out to hurt them. No-Majs are dangerous in their own right, they're nosy and believe everything they see or think they do and are inclined to be aggressive about finding answers. MACUSA is so militant about erasing the memories of exposed No-Majs that some are becoming… slightly resistant to memory charms, which are only incentivising Scourers to look even harder.

Scourers were the monsters who hid under the bed of every young wix after they did their first bit of magic. Many young children were never let out of their parents' sight for fear of the Scourers taking them away.

No, I did not like the No-Majs. We were different subspecies of human, it was safer to be apart for everyone involved. I knew my attitudes were not uncommon in America and it seemed reasonable in other parts of the magical world as well, but extremism against No-Majs such as the World Cup was uncommon and disturbing.

"We'll find him, Lucinda. It'll be alright."

I was uncertain if I was reassuring Lucinda or myself.

Oo0Oo0

June 13, 1996

"Any leads on that newspaper, Audrey?" Fudge’s voice brought me to attention quickly, pulling me out of my thoughts of that radio show Lucinda and I were listening too about historic castles. 

I kept my face carefully neutral. I liked Elizabeth. I liked Cornelius when I started this job, now he was a half crazed tyrant of sorts, seeing enemies in every shadow on the wall. His relentless pursuit of Dumbledore was ruling every aspect of 

"I'm afraid not, Minister. It may just be a penname."

You're not getting any hand on Valencia. Not if I can help it.

Fudge nodded and told me to carry on before retreating to his office after exchanging a few words with Percy whose gaze drifted over me with an edge of suspicion that left me concerned that he could read minds for a horrifying moment. Eddie followed the Minister into his office to discuss some notations and requests from other departments, the door closing behind him with a click, leaving Percy and I to stare at each other from opposite sides of the room.

He got to his feet, holding a manilla file and walked towards my desk.

"I took a trip down to the records office." Percy put the file on the desk in front of me. "Look what I found."

Valencia Talbot's name stood out in a bold print.

Hell’s bells!

"Oh… How silly of me!"

Percy raised an eyebrow. 

Think fast, Audrey!

"I never learned how to read, the state of American education really is abysmal. I'm surprised I even got this far in life."

I'm a moron.

"Somehow I doubt that." He tapped Valencia's name with a long finger. "She was in the immigration section. You’ve been looking in the London listings.”

I had been looking for Thalia or Alex, but I was not going to say that.

"I didn't think she was American, I mean, Valencia is a pretty fancy name, too fancy for an American wix. We're simple people."

He adjusted his glasses, looking increasingly smug. “See, I read the file. She’s from the same town you are according to her visa application.”

“Hm, I wasn’t aware I knew everyone in Albany. We must be smaller then the census says.”

Percy looked down at me, refusing to take any of the bait I was laying down for him before he opened the file for me to make his point to reveal Valencia’s picture and visa application. “You’re welcome.”

He turned and returned to his desk, his expression tightlipped and set in an apparent victory.

The joke was on him though, Valencia no longer lived at that listed address. I could keep this going a little longer, even if I was backed into a corner to tell the Minister and give Percy the credit.  Which I did before I left for the day, the taste of it in my mouth was like ash and I sent Valencia a letter to her correct address to let her know what was going on immediately after I left work.

Oo0Oo0

June 21, 1996

The floor call that arrived in Auntie Lucinda's fireplace that morning called me to the Ministry at the ungodly hour of six in the morning. Barry pulling me out of bed by my ankles to get me to the floo was not how my mornings usually started. I staggered to the room with the fireplace floo across the hall from my bedroom while tying my bathrobe closed to find the Head of Secretarial Affairs, Susanna Waldrope, in my fireplace, she appeared to be wearing a bathrobe as well judging by the neckline I could see in the fireplace.

Highly unusual. Let alone before sunrise.

She told me to put some clothes on. I was needed at the Minister's office in fifteen minutes before disappearing in a flash as suddenly as she had arrived. 

I was still half asleep when I ambled back to my room to throw on the clothes I had laid out the night before and felt slightly more awake after I brushed my teeth and went downstairs to the big fireplace that I could stand in to use the floo, I didn't think I could apparate without my morning cup of coffee to grant me the gifts of life and coherence.

Barry pressed a large, warm mug in my hands, the top of the mug was covered by a saucer and a sticking charm to keep the ash and soot out of my coffee.

"Thank you, Barry."

Barry nodded and held up the floo powder pot for me. I stepped into the fireplace and was quickly sucked away in a flash of green fire.

The usual rush and roaring echoes of the Ministry atrium was simultaneously louder and softer then I had ever heard it before. The heat from the coffee mug in my hands was a dramatic, grounding contrast to the cold of the large, empty room.  I opened my eyes and wiped the soot remnants from my face with a quick tap of my wand to the top of my head. 

“What the hell?”

The Fountain of Magical Brethren was in shambles, pieces of it laid about on the floor and there were a series of large cracks in the floor. All hallmarks of duel of some sort. I took note of the divots in the walls next to my head from spell damage and recoil.

"They say he's back-"

"It can't be-"

"Dumbledore!"

It was five in the morning. My tired mind was piecing together a story where Dumbledore had broken into the Ministry to do… something that was being construed as malicious. 

Maybe he wanted tea?

We had an abundance of it.

I took the saucer off the coffee mug and put it in my bag to return to Lucinda and took a few sips of coffee as I walked away from the fireplace to try and get to the elevator. I saw people from the other Ministry offices that I ran errands to in varying states of professional attire and nightclothes with more rushed whispering. A few women were crying in the corners.

Was someone dead?  

I felt myself beginning to wake up and a sick anxiety began to brew in my guts. I managed to get onto the elevator, making eye contact with Millie Thorpe from the Law Enforcement Office who motioned me over.

“I thought you were supposed to be here ten minutes ago?”

“I did my best, we were short of floo powder,” I shifted while she looked knowingly at my coffee.

“Sure. I can’t fault you for the…?”

“Coffee, Millie.”

“Yeah. That stuff.” She paused as the doors opened to reveal more chaos from the offices. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Susanna called you too?”

“Yep. Scared the hell out of my boyfriend. I’ll have to apologize for that, she saw… Well, he was naked.”

I struggled not to laugh. I was not going to laugh at that. I was not a child. 

I did Millie the courtesy of laughing after she got off the elevator to her own screaming department where papers were flying everywhere and high pitched shouts defaced the usual Auror stoicism. 

The elevator doors closed again and I was left alone as it rose to sip my coffee while I thought and wondered what had happened as the elevator rose up to the Minister's floor. I tried not to think about the reason, anything I could come up with at the moment was heavily influenced by my own half conscious state as I stepped onto my floor, my guts swimming in uncertainty. 

It was unusually quiet up here.

I could not hear even a sound from the Minister's Support Staff Office, Eddie was very loud, normally I could hear him annoying Percy, but it was too early and the circumstances too strange for that kind of tomfoolery. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

I stepped into an office in the kind of flaming chaos politicians only dream about while holding a large mug of coffee.

Percy had the appearance of a shambling corpse, if I got close enough I could count all of his freckles that were popping off the paper white color of his skin with no issue except for the dull five o’clock shadow that lined his jaw. His hair was flying in several different directions, like he had just rolled out of bed at the suddenness of the Ministry’s distress call and forgot to comb his hair. He must know something I don’t.

Eddie was drinking something out of a flask and by the rough look of him, I sincerely hoped it was just tea. Unlike Percy, Eddie was wearing a nightshirt, some No-Maj pants and a bathrobe that he may have grabbed instead of his work robes in his rush to come to work. He looked a bit like a Florida retiree with a beachfront condo. 

The door to the Minister’s Office was closed tight, but I could see a light under the door where shadows were moving erratically under the gap between the door and the floor and the muffled, panicked voice of Minister Fudge.

“What’s going on?” 

Eddie spoke first. “Potter was right… He’s back.”

“What!”

I almost dropped my coffee. I moved quickly to my desk to set down my mug before I spilled it all over the carpet. 

Percy gripped the corner of his desk with wide, frightened eyes. His world had just come apart. 

Eddie had the better grip on the situation, despite his bedroom attire, and told began to tell me everything. That You-Know-Who and his followers had broken into the Ministry of Magic and had been stopped by none other then Harry Potter and a group of school children. Now Dumbledore was now in the Minister’s office discussing this now open insurgency after arriving to fight .

By the twelve. 

“We’ll be here a while. There’s a lot to do.”

I nodded, doing my best to hide my shaking. 

Fudge was going to lose his position over this. That much was clear. Though, for some reason, I felt bad for the man and not the Minister, if that made any sense at all.

Oo0Oo0

When I returned to Thornell late that evening, I found Tavish and Lucinda waiting for me in the dining room. Barry escorted me there once I had crossed the threshold after a long day at work. After working for over twelve hours in a crisis situation I just wanted to go to bed, but Lucinda and Tavish knew something big was happening and I would rather they both heard about it from me then the Daily Prophet. Tavish slid a shot glass of whiskey to me with the finesse of a barman and I drank it quickly, the burn of it going down my throat was revitalizing.

"Voldemort-" Tavish and Lucinda tensed, "-has returned." Lucinda's hand flew over her mouth while the other gripped the table in a white knuckle grip. "He broke into the Ministry, Potter and some school kids fought his Death Eaters and Fudge is on his way out of office."

Tavish's shoulders tensed and he leapt from his chair, a stream of Scottish Gaelic flying from his mouth like a coming storm as he began to pace around the room like a caged lion, a feral creature trapped in a cage of finery while he snapped and snarled.

"Those bastards!"

He said a bunch of other words I would not repeat.

"A year. They've let him run loose for a year…" Lucinda's voice was quiet as she sat like a statue in her chair. "We've been at war for a year and nobody knew."

My mind went to Alex. I believed the Death Eaters were active, I believed they were a splinter cell that Alex was investigating. I did not think he had gone into the belly of the beast, that he was in the vicinity of one of the greatest dark wizards of all time. I believed aspects of Potter's story, but a dark wizard coming back from the dead was not something I truly believed until a few hours ago. 

Finding Alex was growing more complicated by the hour. 

"I thought this was done long ago," Lucinda looked ready to leap out of the chair and follow Tavish's path around the room, but she kept to her seat and looked over at Barry, who was standing in the doorway with wide eyes. "Barry, go find the ward stones for me please. We'll have to redo the spells, and find some more whiskey for Tavish, the McDuff collection should suffice."

“Yes, Mistress." Barry disappeared with a pop while Tavish continued to pace around the room. He had stopped speaking and was now settling into a quiet shock while his anxious energy continued to propel him forward.

"Tavish, sit down!"

Tavish did as he was bid, not knowing what else to do.

"We will stay calm. Tavish, we've gotten through one war, we can get through another if we can hold it together."

"Righ', sorry Lucy." Tavish mumbled and put his head in his hands. "I jus' keep thinkin' about Alistair."

The silence at the table was deafening and heavy like a being encased in a box that was slowly being crushed. I remembered Tavish talking about Alistair being murdered before Voldemort became public. A year of a shadow war was sure to bring up a lot of memories that would be difficult to reconcile.

I knew so little about Voldemort's original rise in public consciousness. I would have to remedy that in the coming days.

“How? How did this stay so quiet? Why were we fed lies?” Lucinda was not even hiding her whispery rage as the last rays of sunlight disappeared into darkness. “How dare they!” 

Barry popped into the room holding a collection of small stones with runes engraved upon them and placed them on the table with a clatter before disappearing again only to reappear holding a large bottle of whiskey to replace the empty one on the table.

"The McDuff, Mistress."

Thank you, Barry. I barely remembered where I put the whiskey or the stones."

Barry smiled and nodded. Lucinda summoned a pack of butterbeer from a storage closet near the kitchen. She brought the pack of glass bottles to rest on the dining room table and heaved a sigh.

"Have a seat, Barry. We need to talk as a family."

She poured a shot of butterbeer for Barry as he climbed into the chair next to Tavish who was examining the stones he had brought in with interest and he sipped his whiskey, his brow furrowed as he slipped deeper into thought.

Lucinda poured me a glass of butterbeer and another for herself. It was not as good as the kind I got at the pubs, but after the day I had, I did not care. I slipped it quietly, the drink was warm and sweet on my tongue.

What a day.

Lucinda's voice broke through the blank space of my thoughtless mind.

"We need to fix the spell work on the ward stones, I'll find the spell tonight and we'll do that over the next few days."

"What's a ward stone?" The term was unfamiliar to me, we had spoken of alternative forms of magic at Ilvermorny, but never in much detail, we covered the magical practices of different American ethnic groups or societies, such as the unique practices of the New Orleans wix who had inspiration from France and various African traditions. New Orleans had a school that strictly taught that style of magic in creole to try and preserve their traditional practices. Aunt Araminta was a graduate, but Quincy went to Ilvermorny at our grandfather's insistence, though Quincy studied with his mother over the summer so she could look her old school friends in the face.

"Ward stones are an old tradition here, we enchant them to help keep out influences of dark magic. It's not something that can be done with a few waves of a wand, but it will last longer and it's easier to do on a large property like this." Lucinda's voice was tinged with pride. She really loved her house and it's history. "We've used them at Thornell for centuries. All of you clear your evening schedules so I can teach you the spell and we can start putting the stones back."

The three of us nodded in agreement. That seemed reasonable.

"Audrey, lass, are ya sure ya wanna move ou'?" Tavish's voice was unusually quiet. "Ya can stay 'ere wit' us, I can 'ave words wit' da landlord if ya want?"

Lucinda and Barry nodded in agreement, Lucinda's grip on her glass was firm to steady what appeared to be a shaking hand.

"Thank you, but I'll move out as planned, besides, it would give you all a place to retreat too if you needed it."

"That offer goes two ways," Lucinda added firmly. "My doors will always be open to you, no questions asked."

My lips pulled back in a smile, perhaps the only one I had managed on this horrible day.

The rest of the evening was spent on what kind of safeguards and enchantments were going to be put on the house and where they would be the most effective. The war council came to an end after several drinks and I hit my head on the table when sleep became too heavy a burden. Lucinda shook my shoulder and made sure I got to bed.

I knew tomorrow was going to continue the chaos of emerging conflict and bring to light far more of the smaller details of the Ministry's incompetence. Putting my head down and getting through the days ahead was going to be an all or nothing task.

Oo0OO0

June 24, 1996

Elihu caught me in the hallway outside of the break room after a meeting with soon to be former Minister Fudge and his replacement Scrimgeour. He stared hard at the backs of the other diplomats and representatives who were following Percy and Scrimgeour to the elevator with a hard expression before he turned to look at me. Elihu’s curly dark hair flew in several different directions as if he had spent the last hour gripping it in stress. It made him look a bit like a mountain man. His glasses were resting on the top of his head and threatening to fall back onto his face, his usually calm demeanor was replaced with the energy of a newly caged lion at the zoo.

He pointed down the hall with a jerk of his thumb and I followed him to a secluded area next to a janitorial closet and a particularly green fern far away from the elevator where we would not be overheard. An irritated Elihu was a creature of venting and angry gestures that needed space to be fully expressed to an audience or just himself. I knew the man had paced around his senate office talking to himself about everything from flowers for his wife to whatever stupid thing had been said on the floor that day.  

"You need to leave. Leave the country. Go back to the States, head to Europe, I don't care, you just don't need to be here."

"What brought this on?”

"Scrimgeour might be successful, he was a Head Auror two weeks ago, but he clearly made no effort to really investigate Voldemort. I'm not confident that this will end well or quickly." 

I nodded, Elihu was always very good about reading people. 

"If your father wins this election, and it looks more likely by the day, your life is going to change dramatically. Once the agents realize where you are, they are going to come find you and any life you have built for yourself here will be finished. If you stay here with protection, you will become a political pawn, real or imagined, by whoever is in charge both here and within the walls of MACUSA." He reached up to fix his glasses which had fallen down onto his face during his speech. "And I won't be able to protect you from any of that."

"I can't hide from everything. I can't run from my father or his influence should he even get elected."

"No, but you can preserve a shred of what you've built by running. When I saw you after I took this post, I thought that it was the happiest I had ever seen you." He smiled quietly. "It was like the pieces of your life were starting to fall into place and you knew what you wanted from your life. You always looked lost and sad when you were working for me. Leaving your family has been good for you, but when your father wins that is going to end until he leaves office and you need to assume he'll at least get a second term."

"I'm not running away, Elihu. I still haven't found Alex."

His brow knit together in confusion before he settled on a scowl. I suddenly understood what made him such a fierce attorney before his Senate career. Elihu Weathers was a man who was very smart and enjoyed using his brain like a well polished weapon, his disposition of politeness and courtesy hid a lion in sheep costume.

"I won't help you with this fool's errand Audrey. If he can't be reached, then he doesn't want to be found." He paused, seemingly collecting himself as he realized his voice was rising. He took a deep breath. "Alex is a grown man, he's been in dangerous places to report for over five years. He's smart enough to lay low until the war is over."

"I know. I've learned a lot from you Elihu, I'll be alright."

Silence settled between us, cold and dangerous. Elihu’s disapproval was like the bone numbing chill of winter while one could look at him and know that his anger kept him perfectly warm despite it. There was something to admire in the ability to be so annoyed with others and unable to suppress it, but it made for bad optics and Elihu was too smart to allow his position to be besmirched by his own personal flaws. I imagined some of his anger towards me was actually from the meeting, which allowed me to stay firm the way I could not with my father. 

"I'm ordering all expats to begin considering a return to the States within the next few days. As is Canada. We will hold an embassy position to continue doing business and trade with the Ministry and continue to offer support, but our citizens will be told it is in their best interest to leave.” 

"I'm a dual national."

"When Voldemort was in power twenty years ago, it was a nightmare. A lot of people were killed in their own homes like the Bones woman. America has had its struggle with Dark Wizards but they were never as dangerous as this one man." Elihu sighed, "Figures I get sent here when everything starts going to shit." 

"That just means Cunningham thinks you can handle it."

"And your father is too practical to move me and send in someone who would have to get up to speed on wartime politics. Cunningham had suspicions for close to a year. I wouldn't call her a Potter supporter, but she was in the London Embassy office during the first war and told me all about it before I took the job."

"Really?"

"If you're serious about riding this out, please be careful. If you need to leave, come to the embassy and ask for me and I'll do my best to keep everything quiet and get you into one of the commonwealth states.”

I nodded solemnly, hoping that this offer would never be needed.

“I mean it, Aud.” He put a hand on my shoulder and shook it to enunciate his point. “War’s get worse before they get better and in the end we all must pay the fiddler for our arrogance.” 

Chapter Text

July 9, 1996

The first week of July was like something out of a nightmare. The continuous chaos of everyone realizing that they were now at war once more with one of the most dangerous, most powerful dark wizards of recent memory unleashed a sense of terror and dread that was all encompassing. Walking into work became an act of weary resignation, one hand resting on a wand while your eyes moved about, waiting and watching for anything suspicious.

Reports of the death of a woman named Emmeline Vance outside of the Prime Minister's residence were met with a low rumble and wide eyes.

The death of Amelia Bones in her own home where she had clearly put up a real fight had turned the low hum of repressed worry to a great roar. The rumor was that Voldemort had killed her personally.

The report of Dementors gathering in swarms and appearing to breed, feeding off the despair and hopelessness of a shocked populace only increased the anxiety within the Ministry.

Ollivander the wandmaker had reportedly been kidnapped by Death Eaters out of his own shop.

And I officially had a new boss who was working out of his old office in Magical Law Enforcement until the end of this week to ensure he knew absolutely everything about Voldemort's return.

Though, none of these things were as frightening as the this newspaper headline.

"Oh no." My voice was a quiet whisper as I stood in the middle of the office holding the newspaper like a dummy. "Oh, hell no."

Jack Graves Victory: New MACUSA President Decided

I was going to be in this country for seven years at least. 

Breathe. Breathe Audrey! 

I wanted to be sick. 

I was so consumed by my own thoughts that I didn't hear Percy come up behind me to read the paper over my shoulder. 

“Oh, well, that was an upset.”

I moved my head slightly. The war in the United Kingdom had pushed support for my father even further over the edge.  

“I take it you didn’t vote for him?”

“He owes me money.”

And paternal affection, but I was not going to say that.

“He’s your cousin, right?”

I nodded, unable to make any sort of noise while my mind tore itself in several different directions as I skimmed the article. “What's he like?"

"An unmitigated ass.”

What a question, Weasley. 

There was a a huff of laughter from over my head and I could feel him stepping away from me as if realizing how close we were for a few brief moments. 

“I didn’t realize you shared a name with his daughter,” Percy said as he moved towards his desk. I ignored my base instinct to freeze or puke on the floor like a cat. “I’m sure that was confusing at family reunions.”

I had an answer for this if my tongue would move.

“Yes, our great-great grandmother was very influential in the New York social scene. I can’t say I know Jack’s daughter very well, she’s a sad kind of girl, a hermit really. I haven’t seen her in years, though I heard she’s in Canada researching ancient burial sites thanks to her dad’s connections.” I did not know if there were any ancient burial site in Canada but that was good. Put some more detail in there. “The rich, successful side of the family doesn’t want to see my side unless there is an obligation to do so. It can be embarrassing for them.”

Percy nodded, having enough social graces not to pry any further to preserve my dignity.  

England, I had found, loved the social class system while I found it silly to navigate or define, but I did know that Percy was climbing up in the Ministry from a background that was not immediately favorable to success in a society based on people knowing other people. I dismiss Jack’s daughter as a sad rich kid, he should lose interest entirely in asking any further questions.

Nice job, Audrey. You can do this.

Oo0Oo0

July 10, 1996

"Hey, kids!"

Percy and I looked up from the paper we were reading. I had gripped the back of his chair in a white knuckle grip at some of the latest headlines about arson and attacks on No-Majs while I read over his shoulder.

"We're not kids, Eddie!" Percy fired back before closing the paper and handing it to me over his shoulder.

"It's true, ageism is a serious offense when we could live over a hundred years," I added as I sent the paper across the office to land in the trash bin as a newspaper crow.

"Well, good luck filing that complaint because I just gave my notice. I’m quitting immediately!”

"What?" Percy and I turned to look at Eddie who was looking smug in the doorway in a more casual dress than I had ever seen him in before, aside from last week when I saw him in his bathrobe. He wore a white button down shirt, the buttons undone to reveal the start of his chest, the sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows and a pair of dark blue jeans.

I'm getting married!" His face flushed and his smile widened. "I asked Pearl the other day and with everything going on, we've decided to go to Spain and stay with her family."

"Do you even speak Spanish, Eddie?" I asked, my mouth dry at the suddenness of this reveal. 

"Best way to learn is to pick up a lover." He smiled carelessly and leaned against the doorframe. "Pearl and I are having a party so how about you two swing on down for a wedding with some of our friends?”

"Right now?"

“After work, around four. We’ll feed you around six.”

Clever man, he caught us on a break and finalized the deal with food."

"Eddie, we're not dressed for this!"

Eddie motioned down at himself with a satiric grin that made me laugh. "You think I am, Perce? You should see Pearl. This is a business casual affair.” He reached into his pocket and threw Percy a small box. “Here! Hold the ring for me, I haven’t shown her yet and she’s looking for it. The wedding’s at Pearl’s pub, I’ll see you both there at four!” He waved and sauntered out the door like a dancer, humming the wedding march.

Percy and I exchanged a look before focusing on the door Eddie had just walked out of. Well, that explained why Eddie had been so… cagey the last few days. 

“I can’t believe this!”

“What? That Pearl would marry Eddie?”

“No. The fact that he would leave right now!”

“Open the box!”

“What?”

“I want to see the ring.” Eddie seemed a man who had a good eye for jewelry, I wanted to see if my assumption was correct.

“Seriously?” He obliged me by opening the box with a flick of his thumb to show what was inside.

“Oh, pretty!” I couldn’t stop the breathless exclamation. It was a gold band with intricate flowers surrounding a large pearl in the center. It was more of an engagement ring, but perhaps that was what one did when they eloped, then pick out a traditional wedding band after the wedding together. Pearl was going to love it!

Oo0Oo0

“I now pronounce you bonded for life!”

The crowd erupted in a rush of cheers and applause that echoed through the space of the pub, the sound reverberating off the walls. 

When it came time for the kiss, Eddie took Pearl by the waist and dipped her back while the guests cheered and whooped in excitement. I could seen the shine of the ring on Pearl's finger. The kiss went several seconds too long, causing me to look anywhere else as my face turned red at the shameless intimacy of it, accidentally locking eyes with an equally embarrassed Percy before we both silently agreed to look in opposite directions. By the Twelve, Eddie's mother was here! 

Mr. and Mrs. Smith soon came apart and walked arm in arm up the aisle with bright smiles and into the room Pearl had left when she came down the aisle. I assumed they had a bit of official paperwork to finish before being recognized in the eyes of the law as a married couple. 

It was odd to see genuine joy after two weeks of chaos, but it was so refreshing to be reminded that good things were still possible in the world. The crowd was asked to stand and the room was quickly changed through magic that vanished and moved the chairs, bringing forth tables from the other end of the room and into place with flourish in the span of about two minutes leaving all of us guests on a newly revealed empty floor for dancing. We were quickly hustled off the floor and to the tables where there were pitchers of water and a bottle of firewhiskey at each.

There were roses in an array of colors springing to life on every table and multicolored lights appearing from rafters in small jars, giving the room a soft ambience appropriate for a wedding. The crowd was small but enthusiastic, consisting of about thirty people aside from Percy and myself. We were quickly taken in by Eddie’s mother who was as warm and teasing as her son as she invited us to sit with her. Percy was soon nursing a glass of firewhiskey next to me while Simone Smith sang Pearl’s praises for accepting the hand of her silly son.

Though, she was clearly a bit annoyed by her son’s decision of a small, quick ceremony and the lack of her No-Maj relatives. 

“It can’t be helped. With the war and everything, it might be for the best to not see all of my cousins for a time.” Simone sighed and took a sip of wine as the music continued to play in the background. Several couples were dancing, I was pretty sure Percy and I were the youngest guests by at least ten years. "Plus, we don't have to worry about exposing muggles to things they can't handle. Don't need Kay freaking out if something moves. She's very jumpy. Surprising for someone who hunts ghosts as a hobby."

"I've never actually met a No-Maj," I said before noting the look of confusion on Simone's face. "Muggle, I mean."

"Ah, pureblood are you? You should get out more. They're dim, but well-meaning, like most wizards."

Humans are all the same, magic or not, that is true, but there are things a No-Maj will never understand about our world and the limits of magical power. Scourers would always be a threat, even if they did not originate on American soil. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good,” Simone smiled and pushed a strand of white hair back into place. “I barely had time to get ready in any case, my Eddie has always been a bit too… spontaneous for his own good. I’m surprised he even got that job in the Minister’s office.”

“He’s very smart, I think he acts like that so he doesn’t get any extra responsibilities.”

His extra responsibility was convincing Pearl to marry him, but I kept that thought to myself. 

“True, he did that at home, I’m surprised the idea worked for him at his job. Though, I think it helps that he had two very smart coworkers. He raves about you and Percy here.” I felt my face flush. “Says you’re both too smart for what you’re doing now.”

“That’s nice of him to say.” I could not tell if my face was returning to normal or not. Secretarial work was steady and had regular hours, but I was not sure how I would spend my life after leaving the Ministry. With Jack winning the election, I may be safer staying in the Minister’s office and pleading my case with Scrimgeour, if not I would have to look for a new job I could do from my apartment. “We’ve enjoyed working with Eddie and he will be missed.” 

Percy nodded in agreement before Simone engaged him into a discussion about the Ministry’s wartime policy. 

The music began to play, Eddie and Pearl came out of the back for their first dance to applause. They both bowed before starting to dance, Eddie’s hands on her waist and Pearl’s on his shoulders. He whispered something in Pearl’s ear that made her giggle.

For a brief moment, I considered what my own wedding would be like, there was no reason for me to attend many weddings when I was in the states. My father was older, most of his friends and relatives were married, the last wedding I went to was when he married Vanessa. I had a lovely time with Vanessa’s father who let me pet the goats and ride the mule on the family’s farm while he tried to engage with my sulky brother. He died a couple of years later in a farming accident but he always sent nice little trinkets for me and Alex, which I think softened my brother’s opinion on the man. 

It took a moment for my thoughts to form, should I get married, I wanted something quiet, maybe thirty people to justify a bar so people would not complain about a lack of liquor. A simple dress, Pearl’s was absolutely lovely. Outside, while it did not feel cramped in the pub, a summer or early autumn wedding would be lovely and would not irritate my spring allergies. An open sky in the countryside would be a really nice place for a party.

I had a fleeting vision of my brother talking with some faceless man I assumed was the groom. Alex looked older then he had when I last saw him, he was graying slightly at the temple the way our father had in the pictures I had seen of him as a young man. Some part of me imagined that the faceless groom had the functional family I had long desired, free of political ambition that kept me entwined by association and reputation. 

Yes, that seemed perfect. 

“A shame these days,” Simone said with an air of mischief that made me take my eyes off the dancing couples in the middle of the room. 

“What would that be?” Percy’s voice kept me listening as my eyes went back to the crowd with a quiet sigh.

“That young people would rather sit with an old woman than go dance.” 

I tried to forget the memories of my very awkward prom experience. No date, frumpy robes and spending the evening with some of my more colorful classmates in a room off the dance floor. I had wondered about dancing, the idea and the emotions that described it in books was fascinating to me and the girls in my dormitory talked about it and their dates incessantly with a chorus of girlish giggles after the event. 

I was sure most of the people here were in relationships of some sort, so I was not going to expect any of my fantasies on the matter to-

“Audrey, would you like to dance?”

Percy was half out of his chair, his hand extended to me with a smile. I took note of the empty glass of firewhiskey in front of him while trying to ignore Simone’s amused expression as he continued to look at me with an eager, but slightly nervous expression. 

“Uh… Sure!” I slid my shoes back on and allowed him to help me to my feet and lead me out to the dance floor.

It felt alarmingly easy and awkward to put my hand in his and let the other rest on his shoulder, his other hand resting on the middle of my back. I never had a proper partner dance, for some reason all Ilvermorny taught us how to do was square dance, I could still hear Mrs. Valkov telling us to ‘Leave room for Merlin!’ in her hawkish tones while the boys and girls held increasingly sweaty hands and spun in a circle. Ilvermorny had yet to produce the famous square dancer the school so clearly desired. The art school in New York however produced at least one dancer of some sort every year. 

I did my best to remember how I got through square dancing as a twelve year old. The man leads, I follow and try not to step on his toes the way I did to Anton Weiss. Okay, I can do this. 

The music was very slow and easy to follow for someone like me who had very little sense of rhythm. Was I supposed to look at him? He was looking at me! That’s a lot of eye contact! Should I focus on the ceiling decorations? The other dancers? 

Percy’s hands were warmer than I thought they would be, I was expecting them to be cold and clinical. 

“You’re very tense,” Percy’s low voice pulled my attention over to him instead of whatever I was looking at. 

Ironic coming from a man who was wound tighter then a spring.

“Sorry,” I loosened my nervous grip on his hand while he led me through another simple three steps that I was quickly picking up by repetition. “Where did you learn to dance? Hogwarts?”

“No, my mother taught us, attempted too I should say. My brothers just swung each other into tables.”

Percy had never brought up his family with me before. This was unusual. Though, I had never brought my own either.

“Your poor mother.”

Percy nodded, with a slight smile. “She said wanted us to know how to conduct ourselves in public, but with seven children we were basically a bunch of barbarians. ”

“Seven?” That was more children than I would ever consider letting in my home, let alone coming out of my body. “Are you the oldest?” He acted like an older sibling.

“Third.”

“Poor you. I imagine you were the good one?”

“It wasn’t hard.”

I laughed. 

“What about you?”

“I’m a traditional middle child with a big age difference in both directions.” Aldridge did not count as a sibling, at this point in his life he was a potato that made cute faces so we would not let him get kidnapped or leave him in a box on a street corner. Besides, with… everything going on, I figured I could get by mentioning two siblings and not three as another layer of protection for my private life. “Not much to say.” 

Percy nodded and led me through the rest of the dance, the close proximity not even registering for me as our conversation drifted to who would replace Eddie as the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, both of us seeming to sense that that was the most either of us wanted to discuss our relatives. Percy said he would like Eddie’s old job, but did not think he had the experience and was content where he was for the moment. I was thinking that maybe what I had said to him during our talk had a bit of a hand in his thinking. 

He led me back to our table when the song ended and dinner menus appeared on the table in puffs of smoke.

 Oo0Oo0

"Your ex-coworkers are cute," Pearl gushed as she clutched Eddie's arm with an adoring smile as I stepped out of the restroom and into the hallway. The happy couple had stolen a few moments alone at the entrance to the hallway, the only thing shielding me from view was a very large, very fake palm tree. “Audrey's a sweet girl and Percy's a bit of a puppy."

I brushed a loose strand of hair out of my face with a grin. It was always nice to hear compliments. Though, frankly I always imagined Percy as a hummingbird, or a bee, he always need to be doing something.

Eddie chuckled, "He is a puppy, he's been pining after Audrey for months."

Huh?

"You have been saying that. I thought you were just talking?"

"No, no." Eddie's tone grew smug and playful as his voice lowered a few notches. "I sent Percy a letter about it yesterday, I doubt he’s read it, I said on the envelope to open the accompanying package on Sunday. I want to be on the continent before he reads it so he doesn’t track me down.”

Pearl gasped, "Don't dangle that in front of me without details!"

"I catch him looking at her a lot, and apparently he flirts by bragging about his job, which women never find attractive-"

"I can agree with that."

"Ha ha. You dangle that over me a lot."

Pearl giggled. "You make it very easy!”

"I also thanked him for the hours of entertainment he provided for me and Elizabeth, before telling him that's not how you pick up women and that he should read the enclosed copy of Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches. One last bit of advice from his supervisor."

I leaned against the wall and reflected back on my interactions with Percy over the last few months. He'd brought me water, but I thought he was being nice because I was crying all day. The nice talks we had over lunch once a week when he said Eddie wanted to take a late lunch. Was that Eddie trying to set us up for his own entertainment? The Christmas gift of admittedly really good quality coffee and a mug? There were vague memories of my New Year's drinking shenanigans… Wait… Was he trying to pick me up at a funeral?

Well, Aunt Araminta always said one never benefited from eavesdropping, but I could not pull myself away.

I put a hand over my chest and took a deep breath to steady myself and thought back to the dance.

Something told me Percy did not heed given instructions for once in his life. 

I was going to keep it together. I was going to be calm. I was going to pretend I had not heard any part of that conversation. My life would be normal and would proceed as it has for the last several months. Percy was my coworker, there’s a war, there are a lot of reasons that we would not be able to explore… whatever this thing was.

I turned and walked back into the restroom to give Pearl and Eddie time to be pulled back to the party of well-wishers.

Oo0Oo0

"You shouldn't go alone,” Eddie protested as the clock chimed the midnight hour and I got to my feet. The rest of the party had trickled out the door, citing children and general exhaustion as they wished Pearl and Eddie the best and a safe trip to Spain. “Really, Audrey, it’s dangerous out there now.”

I shrugged, I had walked around New York without issue. I had never had a problem before and I was not expecting one now. 

“I’ll be fine. No need to worry.” I hugged Pearl who had risen from her seat with open arms and kind whispers of thank you in my hair for coming to the wedding. “Thank you for inviting me.” I hugged Eddie next, he was solid in my grasp and gave me an affectionate squeeze before we pulled apart. “Take care of yourselves.”

“You too, Aud. We’ll come back to visit when the war’s over.”

Percy stood up from the table with a quick smile at Eddie and Pearl, “I think I’ll head out too.” 

Hm?

“Eddie’s right," Percy smiled in a way that was an odd mixture of smug and nervous. "Nobody should be walking alone these days, probably best we go together."

I shrugged. "If you like."

The conversation I had overheard between Eddie and Pearl rattled through my mind as Percy said his goodbyes to the happy couple, Eddie taking an opportunity to ruffle Percy's hair, Pearl pulling him into a hug before Percy could say anything to Eddie about not being a child.

I tried to put it out of my mind once more as we made our way to the door. There was no merit in Eddie's opinions, he was a fanciful creature. The thoughts returned immediately as Percy handed me my cloak from the hook on the wall with a grin.

Oh. Maybe there was some merit in Eddie's opinions. 

Our fingers brushed and my stomach flipped, I remembered how warm his hands were during the dance. 

My fingers fumbled with the needlessly fancy clasp of my cloak, the material feeling heavier than it should have on my shoulders. I glanced up at Percy after I was finished, he was fixing the collar of his cloak. 

"Ready?"

I nodded slowly. I never realized how his cloak brought out the color of his eyes. No, I had noticed, but it has never struck me this hard before because with his usual, serious workplace expression it was easy to ignore how blue his eyes were.

Percy held the door open for me like a gentleman and we began our walk down the street as the door clicked shut behind us.

It was a breezy, cool night for July. Though as late as it was I should not have been surprised. The glow of the street lights illuminated the street, allowing the pair of us to keep a steady, consistent watch for anything or anyone suspicious.

"Did you see the combat spell pamphlets the Ministry is preparing?" Percy asked, his voice low so I had to shift closer to hear him. "Fourth year level spellcraft at best."

"I did, and agree, but most people don't study defensive magic after the fifth year level. A lot of people don't even use it after graduation."

"Have you ever dueled anyone before?"

I paused, my grandfather Atticus had taught Quincy, Alex and I the basics of dueling. Alex had been a member of the Ilvermorny Dueling Club and had placed second in the school tournament. Grandpa was… not impressed with me. He said I was meek and unaggressive, not qualities that were admired in a Graves family duelist. He had started teaching Annette the basics after she had received her wand the start of the summer and proclaimed her a natural.

It was odd to be jealous of an eleven year old, but I got over it.

"A bit, I'm not very good though."

"Didn't you get an O in your Defense class?"

"Yes, but… You can get a good grade for understanding theory because they don’t judge the practice of the thing.”

“I’m sure you’re more than adequate,” he said it with such confidence that it almost made me believe it. "I… I owe you an apology."

"Hm?"

"I was… You had a better read on Dumbledore and Fudge than I did. You were right that none of the political motives made sense, I didn't want to see it."

Oh! He just admitted I was right! I did my best not to gloat, instead smiling encouragingly to keep him talking. I did like praise.

Percy looked around, keeping watch to make sure we would not be ambushed by anything nefarious as we turned a corner. He lowered his voice and I moved closer to better hear him, bumping against his arm in the process as he slowed to match pace with me.

"The Ministry will have this… situation well in hand with Scrimgeour as Minister. I don't believe this war will last long with the head Auror in charge.

"I agree," I set aside my doubts and Elihu's thoughts on the mismanagement of this whole affair. Surely such incompetence couldn't happen twice, and I had not really worked with Scrimgeour yet. Millie said he was a firm personality. I mean, ignoring the threat of a known dark lord was something that could only happen once, right? Perhaps the reason the Aurors were not investigating over the last year was interference from the Minister? Fudge did see dissenters everywhere with little provocation. "Therefore, there is no reason for me to return to the states."

"I disagree-"

"I'm not sure why you are so concerned about it, Percy." I looked up at him, his face looked a bit flushed under the streetlights, though perhaps that was one of the hazards of being a redhead that Misty complained about, the light from the streetlight seemed to set his hair aflame while I tried to focus on anything else  “I’m not scared.”

“That’s not the point.”

I looked at him with a quizzical expression, "What is the point then?"

Percy was quiet for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts. He fussed with his sleeves before shoving his hands into his pockets. "I remember the first war. People disappeared. The dark mark would just appear over people's homes and law enforcement would know what was inside."

The dead. The house would become a tomb. Like Amelia Bones, a thought that personally frightened me. 

"You have an opportunity to live safely by going home. I don't understand why you are not taking it!"

What could I say? That I had built a life here? That my family was here and not in the United States? That going home would mean becoming a political pawn of my father, always having to watch what I say and how I said it because it would reflect on him no matter the situation or who I was speaking with? No. I would prefer to take my chances here where I could cast doubt and have a private life, even if it was in the shadow of a war.

Was I wanting to stay out of affection and love for the people here, or was I wanting to use the conflict to disappear from my father’s reach?

I couldn't say any of that to Percy without looking callous.

I settled on the simple explanation.

"Lucinda needs me here, she's frail and needs extra help with things."

Lies. Somewhere in my mind I could hear Lucinda berating me for the description of her as a fragile old woman. 

"I'm sure you could find someone to help your aunt," Percy's eyes bore into me for a poor explanation for risking my life. "I'm sure Lucinda would prefer you were safe than possibly losing your life for tending to her."

"I would prefer to tend to Lucinda here then worry over her from America!"

My teeth clenched and my jaw set, Percy meant well as he was apt to do. I knew leaving would be the easy choice, but I could not leave Alex here when I finally had something to lead me towards him. I could not leave this family I found in Lucinda and Tavish to an uncertain fate. Misty and Zara deserved better of my friendship than to watch me run home before a year had even passed. Valencia was running a newspaper that was critical of governments and corruption, I wanted to help her clear her conscience in regards to Alex and I needed to see that through. 

Percy and I stopped at the alleyway that was the designated apparition point for the area and looked at each other for a moment, before Percy glanced about to make sure we were out of sight of No-Majs and other potential dangers. 

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Get home safe.”

There was something in his expression that was unspoken, like there was something else he wanted to say in that instant. The way he looked at me made me want to take a picture of the moment to hold it close to me for the rest of my life. It did not matter that my father had upended my life twenty-four hours ago, that my idiot brother was in the thick of a conflict that had begun out of the public eye. Percy did not see any of that, he knew nothing about it. He was looking at me like he was seeing something he had never seen before, his gaze was soft in a way I never really associated with him before and it made my face warm at the intensity of it.

Suddenly, embarrassment washed over me at his scrutiny.

“Thank you for the escort! Bye!”

I turned down the alley to the apparition point feeling confused and almost stupid. In an instant I turned on a heel and was sucked through a tight tube of magic to be deposited just inside of the gates of Thornell. I staggered back and leaned against a tree, putting a hand over my chest and a deep breath to steady myself before slumping to the cold ground below.

People, boys, never paid me any mind. Most of them were frightened by my father's political standing or the Graves name in general, I had a tendency to be picky about my crushes for the same reasons. Could I bring this boy home to meet my parents and not have him be scared off with minimal effort? Could this person talk politics with my father? 

I was an uncomfortably thoughtful thirteen-year-old.  

Though if he was able to agree with my father's politics, I would have to dump him immediately because we would clearly never last. If I was looking for someone at all, I needed someone who might be able to hold their own with my father should we ever speak again. Jack Graves respected people who knew what they wanted, who had the same drive he did, if only in his day to day affairs with people outside of the family. As for myself, I appreciated ambition, but ambition was something that had to be tempered or it would focus too much and burn away at everything within its vicinity. 

I couldn't deal with this right now. There were so many other things going on with the new Minister, my father winning his election and me moving out to my own apartment in a couple of weeks while the country moved to open warfare with a dark wizard they had ignored for a year and this potential new lead I had on my brother.

Percy was pretentious, and had no critical thinking skills, but… well yeah, he was cute. He liked to listen to me and he was not a bad conversationalist if he could focus on something other than work.

I needed to put all of that aside because I had other things to deal with. I had to prioritize. No romance would be in my future, I refused to rush into anything and wartime romance was not something that held interest for me outside of novels. 

I had seen a whirlwind courtship gone wrong with my parents, I was not going to repeat my mother’s mistakes. 

Besides, we were both too sensible for office romance, I was not inclined to quit my job and Percy would have to die before he gave up his. I imagined he would die at his desk and they would have to drag his corpse out of the support staff office. Hell, he would probably rise from the dead to go back to work. 

Though, it would kill him again to never rise higher than Personal Assistant to the Minister of Magic.

Oo0Oo0

"For here we are not afraid to follow truth wherever it may lead, nor to tolerate any error so long as reason is left free to combat it." - Thomas Jefferson

Chapter Text

July 31, 1996

The world might be in flames, but I am now in my own place.

It has one bedroom, living room, bathroom and kitchen and it is just the right size for someone starting out in life. I dropped the bag on the floor and giggled like a child while I spun around the room. Yes! I felt like a real adult!

With a few waves of my wand I pulled the furniture out of my suitcase and began to place it in an assortment of places, trying everything that came to mind until I found a layout I liked. The couch against the wall. A small table in the middle of the room within view of the fireplace so I could host floor calls and have social events with my friends now that it was dangerous to go to bars. And outside in general.

It was for the best really.

Misty, Zara and I had decided to rotate our Friday hangouts now that I was living in my own apartment. If we had a fourth person in our lady crew we could be at a different apartment every week, but we agreed that that was not a luxury we had right now and we would figure that out as we went. They were going to come over tonight to bless the place with a nice wine.

My first attempt at being a hostess would be a massive success if I had any say about it.

I levitated my bag and wandered down the hallway to the bedroom to remove the heavier items from the bag, such as the bed, mattress, headboard and armoire that I could hear falling around inside of my bag. The bedroom was small, it was not spacious but by my measurements the right size for what Lucinda had given me and for what I had purchased myself.

I have never bought furniture before, I picked up most of it second hand from a resale shop except for the mattress and couch, which I had bought new for a perfectly reasonable fear of strange human devouring insects.

A perfectly reasonable fear, Zara had told me with a sage nod. Then she told me about a speedy hotel her family had stayed in on vacation when she was around nine. Apparently bedbugs travel on a person and did not just stay in one place. 

I spent the next thirty minutes trying several different ideas for how to situate the room, I liked the wardrobe in the corner and the bed needed to be in the center but the issue was getting just the right amount of space on both ends. It was not like I was going to have…. Overnight guests, but it was about the look of the room and the utilizing of the available space.

I soon moved on to the kitchen, which was quite small and placed a small square table against the wall. I may have people over for dinner or we would chill in the living room on the floor like the little heathens we are. Depends on how mature we were feeling that night, but I did like the idea of options. 

The silverware and cookware came out next, flying into open cabinets and to hooks over the stove as the clock chimed five times to mark the hour, giving me a sudden giddy excitement as everything settled.

I was going to cook! This would be amazing. I had never actually cooked a meal before. I summoned a cookbook out of my bag, bouncing on the balls of my feet like an eager child as I turned to the simple appetizer recipe I had picked out and pulling the ingredients out of the bag, they had been placed inside of a box with a cooling charm to keep everything fresh and cold.

"Tinsy and Barry do this all the time. How hard can it be?"

An hour later I sat against the refrigerator, my knees to my chest as I put out the small stove top fire with an aquamenti charm from my position on the floor.

That did not go as expected.

The last of the flames were doused and I began to blow the smokey air out of the open window while I took in the mess on the countertop.

"Guess I'll make sandwiches."

My thoughts were interrupted by three quick raps on the door.

"Audie, we're here!" Misty's voice followed three more rapid taps on my front door. I backed towards the door, using a wind charm to make sure the smoke smell was going out the window, praying I did not have nosy neighbors.

"Just a minute!" 

I pressed my back against the door. "Misty, what was the name of the book I gave you for your birthday?"

"The Time and the Night, which was amazing by the way! What did you say to Weasley at New Year's?"

"Really?"

I could hear Misty and Zara laughing from the other side of the door while my face flushed.

"That he had pretty hair!" I said so quickly it came out as a single word. "Zara, what was that stupid thing I said about Quidditch?"

"That it looked boring because the balls don't explode. That concerns me and we need to get you to a match!" Zara took a deep breath. "What kind of candy did you get me from the American candy store in Diagon Alley? The one with the greasy chocolate?”

“A Screaming Eagle, and all American chocolate is greasy.”

Zara had a point, the chocolate here was different then it was back home. 

 I threw the door open and welcomed them both inside. Misty held two bottles of wine, Zara a type of firewhiskey I was unfamiliar with. I had some butterbeer and a peach wine in the cabinet next to some packs of crackers along with some nice cheese in the fridge.

“Aud, the flat looks great! I love the sofa, but why does it smell like smoke in here?” Zara asked as she examined my apartment with a raised eyebrow. “Is something burning?”

“Not anymore.”

Misty had popped her head into the kitchen where I had hidden the evidence of my kitchen sins in the trash can. “Oh, what were you trying to make?”

“Cookies. Biscuits I mean. It was bad.”

They looked at me incredulously, I felt my face flush in embarrassment. 

“You still have some batter?” Misty asked as she pulled out her wand to help push the remaining smoke out of the open window. 

I pulled the bowl out of the fridge with a grin. There was not a lot left in the bowl, I held it out to show Misty who peered in with a look of interest before looking over to the stovetop where a collection of strange black lumps sat in an eerie, mocking silence.

“Those chocolate chips deserved a better end.”

“They deserved to be eaten and appreciated, not to end their sweet lives as charcoal.” 

Zara dumped the charcoal lumps into the trash can and summoned three spoons from the silverware drawer with a flick of her wand and held them out to us as she took a seat at the table. “I think there’s enough dough left for the three of us.”

The three of us sat at the table talking about the news and the goings on in the Ministry while Zara complained about new Quidditch restrictions imposed for safety and security. Misty regaled us with the latest news from the Accounting Office, which wasn’t much as they were number people and people who did math for a living tended to be low drama. Though she did say that she heard a rumor about Nobby Clark Junior being seen talking very affectionately with a pretty young woman in the Ministry Law Library. 

Good for him.

The pair of them both looked at each other with dreamy expressions and announced to me that they were going to move in together by the end of next month. Misty’s flat had enough room for a second person and it felt safer to live together then apart at this point. Misty extended me a permanent invitation to enjoy her sofa should I ever need it, which I was quick to agree too.  

In turn, I spoke of the latest news from the Minister’s Office. That Scrimgeour had finally decided to move into the Minister’s office at last after a few weeks of running a sizable portion of the administration from the Auror Office and had announced the return of Dolores Umbridge as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. I got the reactions I was expecting, Misty looked disgusted and Zara looked offended on Misty’s behalf. 

“I hate that woman,” Misty’s voice was firm. “I’ve got enough goblin in me that people can see it if they look and she hates half-breeds.” 

Misty had spoken about her goblin heritage in passing, but never in much detail. I knew it was about four generations back, goblins had incredibly long lives so it was hard to keep straight unless one was deeply involved in a community. Misty spent a lot of time with her elderly relatives  and spoke fluent Gobbledegook as a result, a fact she had let slip after a couple drinks to many a few months ago. She spent her early years learning how to identify craft works made by goblins in an uncle’s antique shop, she claimed the metal tended to sing in her hands if it was actually made by goblins, something about the enchantments that went into the crafting leaving residual magic behind.

“If she starts up on another goblin regulation bill, I’ll wring her neck. I barely qualified to be counted as a witch, let alone be trusted with a wand and if she moves the goalposts and gets my wand snapped there will be hell to pay.”

“I’ll keep you informed, you have no worries there.” 

“Thanks, Audrey. What did Weasley say about it?”

I tilted my head slightly in confusion, Misty did not really care for Percy’s opinions as a general rule. 

She shrugged in response. “I’m nosy.”

“Er… He sang her praises. He says she’s good to work for, very by the book. Pleasant. Personable. Generally what he admires in a manager.” 

Misty looked disgusted. “Can’t believe Scrimgeour welcomed her back with open arms.”

“She’s due to start in a couple of weeks, intensive therapy for a… fear of horses.” 

Misty wore an expression that was like Christmas and a sickle beer night happened at the same time. “Really?”

I told them the rumors I had heard about Umbridge’s last days at Hogwarts, how she had been kidnapped by centaurs and either dumped outside of the castle or that Dumbledore had gone to retrieve her himself after his return to the campus. She had been in the hospital for almost two months recovering from the trauma of the experience.  

Misty made clip-clop sounds with her tongue that sounded so like there was an invisible horse in the kitchen. Zara cackled. 

“Practicing?” I asked, a wry smile pulling at one side of my mouth.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll find a herd of horses if I have too! If she has anything made of iron on display-“

“I’ll bring it to your eager hands.”

“Thank you!”

The clock chimed eight times to mark the hour. The three of us sprung up in unison, Zara moving the drinks and glasses into the living room with a flick of her wand. Misty putting the dirty dishes in the sink while I grabbed the cheese and cracker plate I had thrown together from the fridge and followed them to the small table in the center of the room where we we had an unspoken agreement to sit on the floor. 

The radio clicked on with a flick of my wand and a soft feminine voice echoed through the room announcing the start of the program. During the last couple of weeks of meeting at each other's apartments, we had all gotten hooked on a radio drama program about interoffice romance and political intrigue called Office Matters. It was easier to take them the news at points and sometimes we tired of political talk. It was far more… risqué then my usual fare.  

"I can't be with her. She's my secretary, but the connection we shared that night is indescribable."

"Because of the ethics violation!" Misty said loudly, causing Zara and I to choke on our drinks. 

"And the age difference!" Zara added as she leaned against the couch, "Seriously she's half his age!'

"The affair!" I squeaked, "What an ass! She needs to run off with the clerk!”

“What! They have no brew!” Misty chimed in incredulously. 

The wine made my sway slightly, “He cheats once, he’ll cheat again! At least the clerk is harmless and well-meaning.”

“If that’s your view of romance, Aud, I’m concerned!”

I was not going to bring up the obvious parallels to my own life. That was way to much baggage to dump on what was supposed to be a fun night.

Misty changed the subject quickly, “How was that sex scene allowed on the air? It was so bad!"

"Sex scenes in general or just bad sex scenes?" Zara finished the rest of her firewhiskey and set the glass on the table with a clink. 

"Bad sex scenes. I know some people like doing that on desks, but save that for the home office, not your workplace!"

"They knew each other for three months!" I rolled my eyes and helped myself to a piece of cheese. 

Zara and Misty exchanged a look that I could not decipher, it seemed almost amused and like they had been waiting for this kind of topic.

"So, what do you like?" Misty asked, her eyes gleaming like a cat's. 

I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Men, non-binary, creatures, nothing at all? We don't think you're into women. You just don't give off the aura. So, no judgement."

"If you were, I know a few." Zara smiled and brushed her violet hair from her face. "They all play Quidditch though and would disagree with you about Quadpot."

Ah. Romantic inquiries. I had dealt with these in school, it was the downside of not openly dating or dating at all. In a school full of hormonal teenagers, not dating was an anomaly that few people could really wrap their minds around. I was good at making up excuses and lies about the matter, nervous about things of that nature in general, word of a beau getting to my father or the press somehow. I told one girl when I was thirteen that I was in an arranged marriage to the son of my mother's childhood friend per her family's Magi Orthodox religion. She believed me and it was all over Ilvermorny in two days. Magi Orthodox was not a religion of any sort. The matter was eventually cleared up, though a few people continued to believe my impulsive lie throughout the rest of my schooling.

My classmate Chastity thought it was hilarious. More-so because her father was a No-Maj southern preacher, so she studied a lot about magical religious practices to talk to him about something from her school life and not her revolving door of boyfriends. I believe she once told him that there was a contemplative religious group called the Sisters that she was considering joining, the Sisters were actually a group of women who focused on sex education and wellness. 

"We know you like redheads, is that gender specific?"

I shook my head, my face growing warm. I thought it was pretty on most people, but… well, I had put those fleeting ideas to thought long ago. 

"I think it's men, Misty."

"I hope so, we're endangered you know." Misty twirled a strand of her own copper curls around her finger which made me giggle. "If you want to help us repopulate, good on you!"

A huff of laughter flew from me before I could stop it. "I've never put much thought into children, I think I would have to actually have dates before that happens in any case."

"WHAT?" Misty and Zara exclaimed in unison, both leaning over the table to look more closely at my face.

"You have been on a date right?" Misty asked, pulling herself tiger more quickly then Zara who was now settling back to eat crackers and watch the show.

"Yes. I'm pretty sure Gavin really just did it on a dare though. I should have said no, but it was my last few months of school and I was curious. He took me for a walk in the Rose Garden, shoved his tongue down my throat and never spoke to me again."

The room was silent, even Zara's crunching had ceased.

"Oh my God." 

"You deserve better than a spit swap!" Misty exclaimed. "You're a babe in the woods!"

"Bad date, worse boy!" Zara added, shaking her head as she poured more wine into our glasses. "Listen Audrey, if you start dating please tell us so we can help you. You're really smart, but sometimes you need other people to look through the fog and tell you if something is wrong."

"And we'll have a girl's night to talk about sex so you don't have a wartime baby."

That sounded… intriguing. The first part, not the baby bit. 

"Sex should be fun, but it carries a lot more risk for women then it does for men."

"We just got the abstinence talk at Ilvermorny per MACUSA requirements," I said slowly, revealing in the increasingly horrified expressions of my friends. "Poor Coach Herman and Nurse West had to give that lecture every year. No real talk about pregnancy prevention, but the Sisters organization was good about sneaking pamphlets in for Nurse West to leave out for reading in her infirmary or casually drop in our dormitory when giving annual shots to students a few times a year.”

I recalled the talk Nurse West and Professor Tully had with the girls when we were eleven about periods and puberty. MACUSA and many school board parents tied their hands about what they could discuss with us. I learned that little tidbit later from Chastity when she got her hands on a Sisters pamphlet a year later. During that awkward meeting, most of the girls were periodically asking if it was time to leave. That was the only bit of information I got about my changing body, Vanessa never had that talk with me in any capacity, my father just told me to stay away from boys, and not to bring home any babies. Aunt Araminta took me shopping for my first bra before my third year, when she realized the extent of my neglect in regards to early womanhood and made sure to take me school shopping with Quincy and Zuri after that. Quincy put a bra on over his clothes to make Zuri and I laugh before Araminta shooed him away to the men's department. Chastity and our other roommate, Freida, helped me through my first period when I bled through my uniform and stained a chair, making sure no one saw me or the evidence while hustling me to the bathroom at the end of the hallway past groups of students.

"I'm so glad I'm into women," Zara muttered as she took a sip of wine. "There's still hassle, but a lot less long-term worry. It means we get to become parents on our schedule. No surprises. No entrapment."

"Are children something you both want?"

Misty and Zara nodded, Misty speaking for the pair of them. "Someday, far in the future. If we're still alive and together after the war. We have other things we want to do in the meantime."

"I think I'd be a good parent," Zara's voice was low, "I like children. They're funny and I don't find it hard to love them. My parents were not okay with me being a witch, but they tolerated it, they kicked me out when they found out I was gay. Wizards don't understand same sex relationships, there are not a lot of wizards out there, but being gay is generally accepted. Muggles don't even have that." 

I… I had never heard this story. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

Zara finished her wine and grinned, "Don't be, if I were straight, I'd still have to see them in that mining town!" She began to laugh. "Imagine! Me spending my life in a dead coal town! What a nightmare!"

No. No, I couldn't see that at all. Zara was too lively, too worldly in ways that I struggled to pin down. She was not hard that way in the way I had seen from the Appalachian representatives from MACUSA. They had a fighter look to them, tough, firm and unshakable. Zara was tough emotionally and soft at her core, but she knew when she needed to put down the wall for her own wellbeing.  

"Anyway, the bar for family is in hell but I found my own family in you two."

I wiped my eyes and my mouth pulled back in a watery smile.

Misty took Zara's hand and kissed the back of it swiftly with a soft smile. "You should meet my parents. Officially. I'll introduce you to my other relatives too. They'll all like you, but we need to discuss a lot of complicated goblin customs first." Misty turned her attention back to me. "If you go on a date let us know and I'll set everything up for a girl's night of educational discussion about debauchery."

If I find a date in wartime, that would be the most shocking thing about that discussion.

Chapter Text

August 7, 1996

My Favorite Cousin,

When we last spoke I warned you about the dangers of bands of gobblers wandering through the streets of our hometown after escaping their pen. That has come to pass, I spotted several this morning seeking nibbles from the mayor and crowing about the quality of the food. The mayor has done his part, but I'm afraid the rest is up to you. While these flightless birds are harmless, the Tom has remained at home, but the two Jakes are looking to set up their own roost with a Jenny. The mayor is convinced the pair is on a wild goose chase.

I have heard rumors that the Tom wants to cross the pond for visitation after the home pen is deemed fit for a king. The more interesting bit is that one of his Jennys has flown the roost and into another, though her whereabouts are being kept quiet due to the situation with the owls who fly through the night silently like ghosts. 

My wife wishes you the best of luck in avoiding these feathery devils. As do I. Please keep your eyes open, and your gate locked.

Love, 

Your Favorite Cousin.

I folded the letter and slipped it back into my bag while the new Minister spoke with Percy, who had been afraid that Scrimgeour would promote his own staff and send the two of us to another department with less prestige. Those worries seemed to be abated for the moment if one was merely to go by Percy’s glowing expression and excitable gestures as the Minister invited him back to his office. When the door clicked shut behind them I was left alone to contemplate Quincy’s letter.

Quincy had sent this missive to me this morning by his raven, Koroneis, in the kind of code that one needed an understanding of context to really understand and I had to read it three times to make sure he was not just writing me nonsense. 

Turkeys were proposed to become the symbol of MACUSA’s government after we broke away from England. It was a suggestion made in jest, but gained real traction so quickly that the idea found its way into the No-Maj community as our congress decided to take it to the vote. The vote failed as President Jackson stated that it was a terrible idea for our national bird to be something so delicious and edible, which snapped enough representatives back to reality to pick the other option instead to avoid those questionable optics of eating a national bird and turkey became a little used joke term for magical Americans on the international stage depending on what stupid thing we had done that week. 

The two Jakes were two young Aurors who had been sent to look for me in hostile territory, and potentially bring me back to the United States for safekeeping should I accept their service. It seemed that they were already on a merry chase in completely the wrong locations. It was part of the reason Quincy said he did not want to know where I lived, neither of us wanted him to risk his job for my right to privacy.

The mayor was Elihu, Quincy had given me some of the codenames they were using for general communications back home for their families. Owls were symbols of death in several Native American cultures, I imagined that was the code they were using for the Death Eaters.

The Tom was my father, the MACUSA President, which meant the my father was coming to England at some point in the future for political purposes, which was enough to turn my stomach. Though, it did sound like he wanted to handle this situation at home before he did the traditional ally visitations, and with things being so potentially volatile here with the Voldemort situation, Jack was probably waiting on more information and wanted to give the new Minister time to settle things. After all, if he got a chance to say anything then he would want to be informed on the matter. There was no way he would come here recklessly during a war, even for appearances. Jack was through like that. More caring about the details of politics than his family.

I returned to filing out supply request forms for the office, more parchment, fresh quills, extra ink and the like. 

My eyes drifted over to Eddie’s old desk. Percy and I had gotten letters from him at various points and compared notes on what exactly he was doing in Spain, reportedly he and Pearl were in the process of opening an English style pub in one of Spain’s Wizarding enclaves not to far from a beach. He enjoyed it far more than government work and he and Pearl took daily walks on the beach during their breaks. It sounded wonderful! And romantic in a way that made my heart flutter. There was something to be said for a maturing romance. I was very happy for Eddie.

The memories of his wedding made me blush, all of it in relation to my memories of Percy from that night. The dance in particular was a memory that continuously drew me back when I was alone in my apartment and allowing my mind to wander. I could still do the steps from memory and recall the feel of his hand in mine.

Percy treated me no differently than he had before that night, but I could feel his eyes linger upon me throughout the workday, after brief meetings, when I asked him to clarify something or when he asked me to edit statements for the Minister or the press. With only the two of us in the office the past few weeks, Percy and I had started taking lunch together, doing our best to avoid discussions of the war and tragedy, speaking instead of books and newspaper crosswords. It was different and exciting in a way, but with the Minister finally moving into his proper office I knew that was going to change.

It wasn’t as if we could date. That would just be bad optics, especially in such a small department and Percy was such a stringent follower of the Ministry policy guidebook, (his copy had highlights I had seen them!) that even a single date was out of the question. I could not subject him to the scrutiny of my family relations, that would not be fair to him. Percy was driven, ambitious and I respected that, but he was enough like my father to cause me concern. Maybe could learn when to temper his pursuit of power and know when he had enough to be happy, or his knowledge of my family’s connections would light such a fire under him that he would burn us both to ash.

It was… easier and safer to keep him at arms length. Getting involved with me would put a target on his back as much as mine. 

The door to the Minister’s office opened and Percy emerged with a smug, triumphant smile as he made his way over to my desk. He had definitely been praised for something or several things and had a lot of extra pep in his step.

“The Minister wants to see you.”

"Have I done something wrong?"

"No, never!" He retorted quickly, his brow knit in confusion. "I told him you are the best secretary I've ever had!"

You've had two at least, but okay.

"That's nice of you to say."

"It's the truth."

I rose from my desk, I hated having official meetings with new bosses. It was always awkward. Percy gave me an encouraging smile, one not wrapped in smug self importance, that was so earnest and surprising that I almost froze to the spot.

Time stopped for several seconds before I was able to collect myself and go to the Minister's office. I could feel him watch me walk to the door and I knew the moment he took his eyes off me before I knocked on the door.

"Enter!" The voice from the other side of the door was muffled.

I opened the door, wincing at the soft creak of the heavy door.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes. Please close the door and have a seat."

I did as I was bid.

Scrimgeour had a mane of greying red hair that made him look like an old lion. There was nothing soft in his face, he had a sternness to his countenance that I expected from a Head Auror. His glasses rested on the end of his nose as he skimmed through his reports, I noted the file on his desk had my name on it.

He nudged a glass container of lemon drops towards me, wordlessly inviting me to help myself. I ensured the one I pocketed was wrapped and untampered.

Scrimgeour was trying to make me comfortable, though he had none of Fudge’s natural ease, he looked content, but also displaced. A man more accustomed to the battlefield with people he trusted was now in a position of global power and influence. The way he sat in the chair, a bit like a king with the expression of a contented cat, told me much more. Scrimgeour looked like a man who had achieved a lifelong ambition. In comparison, Fudge had a real warmth to him, he genuinely liked people, he liked to teach and manage, but Scrimgeour was a different kind of creature, he reminded me of Grandpa Atticus. 

I would have to be very careful.

"I have been meaning to meet individually with members of this office to discuss performance and expectations. I have found very little, if anything wrong in that regard, you and Weasley have been more than adequate in handling the daily affairs of this office while I managed the response with the Law Enforcement Division."

"Thank you. The day to day affairs never changed much despite everything going on."

"No reason why they should, the return of You-Know-Who is such a small thing."

Small? I didn't like that at all. It was dismissive of the panic and the suddenness of the change in political power in the country. 

“I’m not sure what you mean.” I did my best to sound small and stupid an attempt to entice him to braggadocio where he would talk to much and I could get a firm measure of the man instead of the Minister. 

"I'm sure you would understand the power of government better than most. If the Ministry panics, the people will lose all control of themselves. Mass hysteria is a weakness we cannot allow, the people must be cautious, but they must maintain faith in their leaders to lead them.” He smiled in a way that reminded me of a cat that caught a canary. “Even the eyes of the international stage are upon us and we cannot show weakness.”

My breath caught in my throat, something inside of me understanding why Scrimgeour had not moved his favorites to the Minister’s office with him. 

“I’m told MACUSA’s new president is unusually well connected.”

I stayed silent.

“That his eldest daughter has left home and somehow ended up with a job here at the Ministry of Magic.”

I did my best to not puke on the Minister’s desk as Scrimgeour’s expression grew more smug.

“How lucky to have an expert on MACUSA politics on my own staff.”

Expert seemed an empty sort of word. 

“Someone who understands Jack Graves and what his motives would be should he decide to become… invested in this incident.”

I felt myself tense at the mention of Jack Graves, my shoulders tightened and my jaw clenched.

“I found your file to be particularly interesting, Miss Graves once I broke the privacy charms on it, being Minister of Magic comes with all sorts of privileges, and asked Cornelius about the finer details. Cornelius tried to lie to me, that you were just some distant cousin to Jack Graves, but I told him the investigation I did on your background told me otherwise.”

I felt ill. He had given my record a closer look than I thought he would, clearly, and intelligently not taking Fudge's word on anything from the last few years of his years as Minister. I was not sure how long I could keep that quiet from a Head Auror, but in my experience, a desk promotion after  a career of excitement created laziness in a person.

“Cornelius then informed me that he had given you his word that your privacy would be protected should you choose to stay with the Ministry after the election and I intend to honor that promise.”

Scrimgeour did not trust Fudge. Smart man. Though perhaps he did not truly trust anybody. 

I could handle this. He’s honoring an old agreement. I’ll be fine.

“Is there anything else you would like to add?”

“Only that I would be of no use to you in that regard. I have not spoken to Jack Graves or his family since I left his employ last year."

"Really? Your own father is an acting president and you have not spoken to him?"

My last thread of hope at Scrimgeour being a total fool was completely dashed. All I would have to do is stay calm, treat him like I treated my father and I could still come out of this conversation with some advantage or clinging to the edge of the pit my lies had dug. 

“We both have other things we would rather do with our time,” my tone decisive and brokering no argument on the matter. 

Scrimgeour wore a look of curiosity as if he were wondering how two teenagers who were estranged from their families had ended up working in the Minister's office. Something I often wondered about myself, but had long ago written off as a parenting need of the Fudges.  

“I was wondering if you could relay a message to your great-aunt on behalf of MCPIF?” He slid an envelope towards me, which I picked up nervously. “Matilda thinks it would be wise to push the event back to welcome President Graves when he visits us in December. I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

“President Graves?”

Wait… Lucinda was going to be absolutely homicidal over this! Jack Graves in her home? If she did not assassinate him I would be surprised and even more impressed by her self control. 

“Perhaps, given these present circumstances, it might be wise to lay aside these family grudges and decide where to place your loyalties?” 

Lucinda. That’s where my loyalties are. Jack can go sit on a cactus.

“My loyalty is to the Ministry, sir, you have no cause to worry in that regard, but the conditions of my loyalty remain the same as they did under Minister Fudge, I’m sure you understand my caution in this regard?”

Choke on a lemon drop, Scrimgeour. 

“Of course. The press can be vicious and I can understand not wanting to open the door to that kind of scrutiny, it would provide an incorrect impression about MACUSA influence on the Ministry, but I assure you that you will have no need to worry about that during my time in office.”

I have no need to worry so long as our interests align. 

I was not unaware of this possibility. That I would become a political tool of some sort for the incoming administrations both here and abroad, but I did not think it would happen so quickly or be so spelled out. I needed to be smart. 

The front Scrimgeour wishes to present is a careless one. 

To Scrimgeour’s credit, he changed the topic, wishing to discuss my work in the Minister's office over the past year. 

"Your work here has been exemplary."

Though, that comment felt more like appeasement and obligation for a man who wanted me on staff for my family connections. Would I still have a position if I didn't have a connection to Jack Graves?

I let Scrimgeour talk, nodding my head quietly while I thought about the best way to break this news to Lucinda before coming to peace with there really was no good way to tell her any of this. The meeting soon after with disgust and dismay swirling around inside me like a whirlpool as I held the letter I had been asked to deliver to Lucinda.

Oo0Oo0

Lucinda’s brow furrowed, her lips were a thin line, her hands shook as she read the letter a second time.

“No. Absolutely not!” She slammed the letter on the table and began to pace irately around the table. “It will be a cold day in hell before I welcome that man into my home! I don’t give a damn what the Minister says!”

I reached over to pull the letter towards me as I sipped my rare cup of afternoon coffee. 

Dear Madam Ainsley,

We are sad to request another change of date, but MCPIF hopes that this will be a satisfactory resolution to these scheduling issues. As you know, there has been ongoing social unrest with the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The new president of MACUSA is scheduled to arrive for his first international visit in early December, the date to be confirmed in the coming weeks, and per our arrangement and investment in your home, we must abide by this opportunity to raise civil funds to support civilians who are in crisis.

While we are disappointed in not being able to see the wonderful gardens Thornell is known for at their peak of beauty, we have full trust in you and your staff to make due in these trying times.

Best Regards,

Matilda Porter

“That self-righteous bitch!” Lucinda continued, her sudden language pulling me back to reality. I had rarely heard Lucinda swear, and I had never heard her be this angry before. Her tone was akin to a snarling beast, as if this letter and the noted arrival of my father had unleashed something feral that she had long repressed. “This was deliberate! Jack Graves will never have a warm welcome in my home! If the Ministry wants me to host that cretin then I will do everything I possibly can to make him miserable as long as he is within the walls of Thornell! Mark my words!”

I loved Lucinda a little more everyday.

“I also had a meeting with the Minister today.” 

Lucinda stopped cold and looked at me. “About what?”

I gave her the short version, recounting his knowledge of who my father was and that he seemed willing to make it useful to him. Lucinda’s face grew red. I had never thought Lucinda could get visibly angry. I always thought her anger was of a colder nature but something about the stress and the combined knowledge of my father’s visit had pushed her over the edge of temper.  

“What an insult to me! To my family! To you!”

She began to pace again, “Scrimgeour wants a hold on you. You have valuable connections and him lording your father over you means he can keep you in line and quiet for whenever he needs!” She stopped suddenly as she fully processed everything, “He needs you to soften his meeting with your father when he arrives.”

I nodded. It was the kind of thing I knew other people did, I just never thought it would happen to me, though I can’t say it was unexpected.

“Why though?”

“International relations, I’m a valuable pawn even if I’m not speaking with Jack. Elihu and Jack don’t get along, that’s common knowledge. My affirming that everything is going well on the Voldemort-“

“Must you!”

“-Front, then Scrimgeour gets less open criticism from foreign allies, criticism which would dismantle his narrative here at home. Elihu is telling MACUSA everything, it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. Jack Graves is not an enemy or opponent Scrimgeour wants and criticism from MACUSA carries weight.”

Lucinda was quiet, she took a deep breath and wiped her glasses with the sleeve of her robe. “Mind your tone with Scrimgeour and keep your head down, you need to live quietly, but that does not mean bowing to his political whims like a puppet. Outright defiance is not the way to handle this.”

“I agree.”

Playing at the sentient desk lamp for my father had prepared me for this, though Scrimgeour seemed to be of the opinion that I was more politically able then my father believed. Life was easier when powerful men thought I was apathetic or an idiot. 

Lucinda marched to the door and flung it open with the force of a hurricane. Letting in fresh air as she leaned out the door, her gaze on the nearby greenhouse that Tavish favored for its proximity to his favorite hedge rows. 

“TAVISH!” 

Tavish popped out of his greenhouse with a bemused, contended expression. “Yeh?”

“We have a problem! That winter wedding we hosted ten years ago, do you still have the plans for it?”

“Aye! Why?” 

“The Numpty is coming to our home!” 

Tavish immediately looked murderous. "Wha'cha need, Lucy?"

Lucinda motioned towards his hut and stormed out the door towards it with a fresh energy in her step that seemed purely powered by her own rage. Tavish was quick to take the hint and follow her, stripping off his gloves to leave on the ground next to the greenhouse for his return.  

“I’ll tell you on the way!” 

The door slammed closed with a flick of her wand and I was left alone with the letter and my cup of coffee.

Oo0Oo0

August 10, 1996

I stared at the beautiful grey sky above me and collected my bearings for a moment as Lucinda’s shoes crunched across the grass. The fresh, clean smell of the fresh cut grass was dull, but present if I knew what to look for. Lucinda’s boots came into view along with the hand she reached out with to help me to my feet. 

My expectations for Lucinda were to be a strict disciplinarian of sorts, but I did not imagine that to encompass dueling skill alongside her managerial role within the house.

“You’re hesitating.”

“Well, you’re getting on in years, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Don’t mention a woman’s age, even in generalities.”

Tavish snickered from the open door of his greenhouse where he was moving potted plants outside to reorganize while he cleared an infestation of creatures from his primary greenhouse. The work to begin growing plants for this winter political affair was going to be immense but he claimed he was more then up to the challenge, he had some ideas for indoor plants that he wanted to take care of while he waited for the snow fall to put up his sculptures and the maze. He peered in at Lucinda and I with a smile as she helped me to my feet after putting me on the ground with an unusually fast knockback jinx.

“I thought the Graves family taught their children how to duel once they could hold a wand?”

My face reddened in embarrassment. Alex’s dueling club trophies flashed through my memories, the disappointment of the Defense teacher when he realized he would not have another Graves for his dueling team, my grandfather hanging his head before fixing my stance again before acknowledging that there would be no Auror ranking for me. He taught me to cast a shield charm to keep myself alive in times of trouble before turning his attention to Alex and Quincy. He gave the boys copies of his grimoire, a collection of magic from generations of the family’s hunt for dark wix and told me to find a nice office job where I wouldn’t be called to duel for perceived slights.

Dueling was not exactly legal in the States, but formal duels did often occur with the government turning a blind eye to such displays. If a duel reached the government’s ears and they did nothing, then the common view was that someone involved in this affair had some unpleasantness coming of one sort or another. The courtesy was just to show up, fire sparks into the air and end the whole affair, but sometimes that was not enough to end the grudge. All children knew the procedures of a duel, either learning it in school or at the knees of older relatives who had to handle these things. Taking part in an affair, abusing a child, being a nuisance or the town bully. There was one very famous duel when a wizard did his best to murder his brother-in-law for abusing the wizard’s sister and went after him with a severing charm, cutting him all over his body and leaving him to bleed out before a neighbor called for a Healer. No charges were filed, as no witnesses could collaborate the story as it was labeled a family affair. The brother-in-law was killed in a bar fight a couple of years later. 

“Your stance is unbalanced, your wand grip is loose but workable-“

I looked up at Lucinda, my brows knit together in confusion, praise of any sort was never expected during my previous dueling lessons.

“Don’t look so shocked. You’re too smart to just reach for fifth year material, I want to see what kind of spells you can do when I’m not putting pressure on you.”

It took me a moment to nod and follow Lucinda out the door to the yard where the three crows who made their home in front of Thornell cawed loudly in the tree. 

After an hour of displaying my spell craft on a poor old tree as Lucinda offered me advice, occasional correction and requests for particular spells. She wanted to see everything, Transfiguration, Charms and Defensive spells so she could comment on the American technique. Her criticisms were almost nonexistent, Lucinda was a woman who expected perfection and to not hear anything but offers of technique correction was unusual.

“Who told you that you were not a good duelist? You have a decent base, but you need to find that thing that makes you hesitate and squash it.”

I bit my lower lip and nodded quietly.

Lucinda paused and adjusted her glasses thoughtfully.

“I can teach you Occlumency if you’re interested, I believe you might have a bit of a talent for it. Could be helpful to you in that rats nest of a Ministry.”

“I’ve read a bit about the theories behind Occlumency, but I’ve never had a chance to try it.”

Lucinda examined me with a critical, but sympathetic gaze, “Those fool relatives of yours left you to rot in obscurity because you don’t fit into their ideals and that’s their loss, I can help you grow into something better than what they wanted from you.” 

That was… nice to hear.

“When would we start?”

“As soon as you read the books I give you in their entirety, and you manage to defeat me in a duel we’ll set up time for lessons.”

I wanted to learn Occlumency. I felt a fire stirring inside of me that I had never felt before, it was a desire to push the boundaries of my knowledge outside of schoolbooks and classes I generally coasted through. I was being offered an opportunity to learn a branch of magic that schools never discussed, something old, dangerous and complicated that one needed to find a master to truly understand and learn the craft.

“I accept.”

Chapter Text

August 19, 1996

The office was… different. Rearranged. Eddie’s desk was gone, it had been replaced by a door with a shiny golden plaque on it while one of the men from magical maintenance was making final adjustments to the door and revealing spellwork. It was the traditional office used for the Senior Undersecretary, but Eddie liked to be in the trenches with Percy and I so it had been hidden away to better take advantage of the space. 

In the middle of the room was the woman I assumed to be the mysterious Dolores Umbridge who was speaking with Percy and Scrimgeour. She was a squat woman with mousy brown hair clad in pink, who bore an uncanny resemblance to a toad from a children’s book my mother had read to me as a girl. The matching pink bow in her hair was garish and her sick, simpering giggle when speaking to Minister Scrimgeour made my stomach turn. I could see Percy standing nearby, nodding to every word she said about her experience at Hogwarts, none of it was complimentary about the staff, school or students.

I would expect some loyalty to one of the oldest wizarding schools in the world, but that was not my place.

My half-written letter to Irene was being constantly reshuffled in my head, I knew Beth was going to visit her this weekend and I thought it might just be easier to send my letter of salacious gossip with her instead of sending it through the mail. The old women could read it over crumpets and frankly, I was probably going to need advice on how to handle Umbridge. I was certain I could, but a woman who had no issue torturing children, according to rumor, was an entirely different beast than a man who would forget my existence. 

Frankly, I just wanted to go home and finish putting the pictures Elizabeth Fudge had given me of my mother into a photo album. I had been struggling with how to organize them and was getting more from Lucinda, the oddness of seeing my mother as a happy child never really faded and it was hard to work on at points. I always found my mind wandering about what my life would be like if she had not died while I was so young. I needed a break from my own listing of potential locations for Alex, who was hopefully laying low like I was. Though, I had a closet dedicated to the articles I had collected with a map and a series of tacks and strings that marked his known locations that were identical to the one in Lucinda’s office at Thornell. The map hung behind the door to haunt me with its obligation and my fears. 

I had been in touch with Valencia Talbott, mostly through letters as she looked for anyone named Thalia in local newspapers, births, and obituaries mainly. After all, babies with pretentious or silly names always ended up in the papers. So far, she had found nothing, but she sent me a list of names to check at the Ministry so I could examine their family trees. Which I explained to a very nosy Percy as helping my great-aunt find a long lost relative to leave her home to as the Averys kept ending up in Azkaban. He let me be after that. It was was always awkward to discuss jailed extended relations, he did not need to know that Harrow, who remained the closest male relative had yet to be in trouble with the law. Frankly, I hoped he had stolen some candy in his youth for the sake of Lucinda’s health. 

There was a gruff noise from Scrimgeour that sounded so like my father I felt myself jump to attention.

“Audrey, come meet Madam Umbridge,” Scrimgeour motioned me over the way my father would when introducing me to one of his work friends. 

I did as I was bid. 

The closer I got to Madam Umbridge, the worse I felt. There was ill intent in her bearing, something that she tried to mask with a girlish, coy expression and blisteringly pink wardrobe. The pitch of her voice grated on my ears and Irene’s words came back to me with the force of an exploding quaffle. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” she appraised me with her beady eyes and I forced a pleasant smile in turn. I knew this game. I learned it at Vanessa’s knee. 

Ignorance. 

Become the desk lamp you are destined to be.

“The pleasure is mine, Madam Umbridge. I’ve heard so many good things about you and all you’ve accomplished in the Improper Use of Magic Office and what you've done at Hogwarts of course.” 

It felt so slimy…!

She knew very little about me, but I imagined that I knew more about her from the rumor mill of the secretarial department. Secretaries knew everything and the old women tended to try and look after the younger ones.

I would ask for more concrete details at the meeting today.

“The Minister,” she seemed to simper at an uncaring Scrimgeour who was engaging with Percy on some matter and not even looking in our direction, “has told me so much about you.”

That couldn’t be good. 

“All good things I hope?”

If I could ooze, I swear…!

The combination of Percy and Umbridge had been the final straw for Irene to leave. I had Percy managed, he was not odious to me, though he did still glare at Nobby Clark whenever he came to deliver memos and chat with me about the a historic site that was being uncovered in the swamps of Lousiana. We shared a mutual historical interest in what was being uncovered, mine was in the magical practices of the area, Nobby’s was in the realm of magical history. We were often able to exchange a few minutes of notations of the matter before Nobby would lock eyes with Percy and make a break for the elevator. 

“Yes, yes they were.”

She looked at me like she was filing me away for later use.

Though I can’t say I was doing any different. 

Oo0Oo0

The secretarial staff had a group meeting every two weeks to touch base and have a nice lunch. It was a way for the Head of our department to ensure that we were content with our positions, needed time off, wanted to move to a new department or generally needed advice. 

Susanna Waldrope was a middle aged woman with dark skin, glasses and carefully styled hair. She was a first generation immigrant, her family migrating from South Africa before she was born. She generally worked in the Department of Mysteries, traditionally she would be in a major department on one of the main floors but she was not convinced that she could send one of her girls down to the basement where they would be eaten by a giant plant or something. She was generally happy to leave me in the Minister's office due to my previous work history, the fact that I had not murdered Percy and she could not stand Umbridge. 

Which was one of the reasons I was attending this meeting.

Also for the food.

I was starving.

Inside of the conference room there was a table against the wall with an assortment of homemade sweets, a fruit and cheese plate, a salad and a collection of nice breads. A nearby table held containers of juice and hot water for tea. I felt my mouth water as I got in line behind Millie and Beth who greeted me with warm smiles before returning to their complaints about some idiot clerk from Beth’s department. Behind me I could hear Susanna whispering about the war with Althea Cartwright, the latest news about a rumored attack on muggles somewhere in south London.

I loaded up my plate with an assortment of food, sampling the cheese with a happy grin akin to a successful mouse on a kitchen raid. It was delightful. I had been living on sandwiches of various kinds to the extent that Percy had commented on it when we had lunch together. I traded him the apple I brought for the grapes from his own lunch out of a need for something different. I considered stealing a baked potato he brought last week under a particularly powerful warming charm. That thing looked delicious! He had extra butter!

After loading my plate, I took a seat next to Millie who was sipping herbal tea with a contented expression. She set her mug on the table with a soft sigh and looked over at me, a seriousness in her eyes.

“I heard Umbridge is back from Saint Mungo’s.”

I nodded, "She seems… pleasant."

Millie's brown eyes rolled so fast I thought they would spin out of her head. "Pleasantly parasitic."

"Devastatingly devious." I liked this game. I would have to start playing it in the office again. I had stopped when Percy had developed from peevish to pleasant and it became less fun to find words that start with P to describe him in annoyance.

Millie chuckled and slid one of her cookies to my plate as Beth from transportation, (who really liked my accent), sat across from us with a curious expression.

"You two talking about Umbridge?"

We nodded, I quickly informed Beth that she was officially back in the Minister's office after her year at Hogwarts and months of therapy. Beth's brow furrowed, her grey hair looked like a pale storm cloud as strands escaped her tight bun. She fixed her gold rimmed glasses and gave me a pitying look.

"I can get you to my department if you can't handle her! Noah needs a personal assistant, it would be a promotion, and he's single!"

"He's thirty, Beth!" Millie jumped in for me before I could say anything myself. "She's eighteen! I doubt Noah's that kind of cradle robber!"

"Ah!" Beth covered her mouth quickly in shock, her face flushed. "Sorry, love, I thought you were at least twenty three.”

"It's fine!" I laughed before taking a sip of water. "I feel older at points. Not thirty though. Maybe twenty five."

Beth chuckled, "You're so young, and I think you’re too smart for Noah, bless him. If the Minister's office keeps hiring the wonderkids, what will our departments do?"

Millie shrugged, "Guess we'll get them when they realize what a work-life balance is and slow down." 

Beth gave me a probing stare, she really wanted me in her department.

"Mine is fine, Percy doesn't like to share paperwork."

"So, if I wanted to spend more time with my grandchildren, I'd have to get Weasley Junior in my department, is that what you're telling me?"

I nodded, both of us knowing he would not take what he would view as a demotion.

"I knew Irene was pulling my leg. She just didn't want to go to the porcelain through the ages display, she said Weasley threw some stuff at her last minute."

Irene made Percy sound far worse than he was. 

Though, judging by Eddie's comment at the wedding, Percy may just be exceptionally nice to me. No. I had to get my thoughts off of that. I had to focus. I had a whole list of other things I needed to manage and a fairly pleasant young man with a nice smile was not one of those things.

He would have a happier life for not getting involved with me and I would not have to fuss over his motives, even if I knew intellectually that Percy was not politically savvy enough to take advantage of an opportunity a first daughter with daddy issues would present. 

I could not even risk putting myself in a position that vulnerable. 

"So, what's the deal with Umbridge?" I asked before popping a grape into my mouth, savoring the sweetness on my tongue. 

"Well…" Beth looked around and motioned Susanna over to take the empty seat next to her. "Susie, you'll want to take this one!"

“She’s a demon!” Susanna said as she went to sit at the head of the table a few chairs up from me.
  
Okay.

“She’s been with the Ministry for years, scheming her way to power through any means she could manage. Irene lasted where you are because she’s old, climbed as high as she wanted and was blunt about it. You’re young, pretty and can string a sentence together. She’s going to try and remove you, be stupid and you may get to keep your job.”  

“I don’t even think I want to stay with the Ministry long term.”

Susanna shrugged, “Then she’ll try to remove you quickly. She enjoys it, like a cat playing with a mouse.” 

“She terrorized any secretary who worked under her.” Beth stated with a roll of her eyes, “She kept trying to marry up into power when she started here, but she’s such an odious creature that thankfully that never worked out. I shudder to thing what would be like as a department head’s wife, constantly butting into office business or slipping nasty advice to a husband to fire some poor girl who she saw as a threat.”

“It’s the power,” Susanna said firmly, her dark eyes flashing over to Jiera Patel from the Improper Use of Magic Office who looked as if she were having a horrible flashback while she held a grape frozen an inch from her face like a statue. “If she ever found someone stupid enough that would have been a lot worse, though stupid people are often blessed with some sense of morals.”

Jiera put the grape back on her plate and leaned back in her chair. “She’s a work thief, yes I said it, she took full credit for everything and I let her do it to get her out as the head of my department and put Anika in charge. She was a terror, I’m sorry for sending her up the ladder but it was the only thing I could think of to get her away from us.”

By the Twelve. There was going to be some kind of reckoning upstairs and I was going to be right in the heart of it. 

“Sorry you’re in this mess, Audrey.” Jiera smiled awkwardly and held out a cookie to me. “Biscuit?”

I thanked her for the cookie and bit into it slowly as more stories about Umbridge were whispered around the table and more sympathetic looks were aimed in my direction. 

The meeting was soon called to order, Susanna reviewing safety protocols that had been issued by the the Ministry to the public and opportunities for spell education that were being provided for Ministry staff by members of Law Enforcement. Millie Thorpe was quick to add that it was the desk workers teaching the class and she was not convinced they could cast a shield charm and it may be safer to buy some hats from the Weasley shop in Diagon Alley. Couldn’t cast a shield charm? That was concerning. 

The meeting was called to a close at the top of the hour and soon there was a crowd at the door to head back to the various offices when a sharp voice caught my attention

“Oh blast!”

“What is it, Toula?” I asked as she stepped away from the door to check the time on a pocket watch. 

“I need to deliver these schematics to Mr. Weasley, not yours, his father about some new type of sham protection charm the department’s been trying to break, but I need to take my son to an appointment at Saint Mungo's."

“I could deliver the schematics for you. It’s on my way.”

“Oh thank you!” She pressed them into my hands and ran out the door leaving me holding a large folder and the leftover cookies I had wrapped in a napkin. I put the cookies in my pocket, and said a quick farewell to Millie and Beth before leaving on my errand.

Oo0Oo0

The Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects was such a long title they had to put the office plaque on the wall next to the door instead of on the door itself. 

I knew this was the new department run by Percy’s father, Scrimgeour was more proactive then Fudge and one of the first things he did was promote Arthur Weasley from Muggle Artifacts to head this larger department, saying that he needed people he could trust to find these items and Arthur already knew all of the Muggle baiters who would probably make the jump to this new wartime industry.

I had to admit that I was curious about what Percy’s father was like. 

The office was a busy one, I counted ten people collectively working on disenchanting items and taking notes on the spellcraft, probably looking for common links to a manufacturer of sham spells. One older man recoiled from what appeared to be a shocker spell to help prevent probing before cursing loudly in response to his singed fingers and going back for another round out of agitation and vengeance.

I was quickly pointed to the door at the back of the room, which should have been plainly obvious to my simple mind but I digress. 

I knocked on the door, the voice on the other side gave me permission to enter. Even muffled, Arthur sounded like a pleasant sort of man, a bit energetic from how quickly he responded. 

"Mr. Weasley," I popped my head around the door to find a balding head of red hair hunched over an odd looking pendant while sitting at his desk. The necklace sparkled and spat magic like a hissing cat. The man looked up and I remembered how much he looked like Percy, though having more than a passing glance in the elevator helped immensely. Something in the tilt of his head was identical to his son, made more so by their physical similarities, including the glasses. "Toula sent me to drop some schematics off for her. She had to take her son to Saint Mungo's."

"Oh, I completely forgot about that," he stood up to take the spell plans from my outstretched hand while I admired the collection of oddly shaped metal devices on the walls and shelves. “Thank you, Miss…"

"Please call me Audrey." I ignored the furrowed brow, he had probably heard about the American in the Minister's office who worked with his estranged son.

He reached across the desk to shake my hand insisting that I call him Arthur as we finished the formalities.

I turned my attention to the assortment of artifacts on the walls. "What's all of this? Goblin craft?"

He followed my line of sight to his shelf of law and spell books that had strange metal items and long black tubes that came out the supposed back of the item. I had never seen goblin wear like that. Must be a local specialty. I'd have to ask Misty.

"No, no. These are muggle devices for cooking!" He stepped out from behind his desk to point at one that looked like a square on the top shelf. "That's called a 'toaster', they use it to make toast in less than two minutes."

I had just figured out how to make toast in a frying pan on the stovetop without burning it. It took at least five minutes to warm the pan. Maybe No-Majs were clever after all? 

"Really? What's this thing at the end of this pipe?"

"A plug for the ektricity to make the toaster work. Marvelous these muggles. I have a collection of plugs, all different kinds.”

I looked over to find a small box of these… ploogs? Pugs? Some had two prods, a couple had three and there were so many that the box was half full.

"How did you start collecting muggle items?"

“I took a Muggle Studies class at Hogwarts and became absolutely fascinated by the astounding ways they get on without magic.”

I had never put a lot of thought into No-Majs, they existed, but the history between us and them in the United States did not lead to good feelings. Many wix had no interest in learning about No-Majs, even though the department that covered such things was well respected for helping us blend in as a secret society in areas where we overlapped. Scourers were still a threat, one often preached to young wix when discussions about playing with No-Maj children, marrying a No-Maj, or even just leaving our magical communities. One of the first spells taught at Ilvermorny was a memory charm. 

We talked for a few more minutes, I was surprised by the depth of Arthur’s knowledge on this other society that we lived alongside, though any amount of understanding would have been impressive as I was engaging in a conversation where I truly did not understand the topic. He seemed thrilled by the interest I was showing in these items which I got the impression he was hiding from his wife, like any reasonable man would. 

A picture on his desk caught my attention, it was a family photograph of eight people in an expansive desert. The family all had red hair, the mother had a round pleasant face, the children all alternating between tall like their father and shorter, but more firmly built. Though, there seemed to be a gap somewhere in the middle as the little photo-family shuffled around, like something or someone had torn itself away. That must have been Percy’s spot in the photo, so a family of nine with six sons and a young daughter despite what the picture implied. They seemed so happy, but I understood that pictures could lie. Magical photographs could banish an occupant at the whim of the pictures owner. 

I knew I had been banished from my own families photographs, not the ones in the front hall for appearances, but any that were for the eyes of immediate family alone.

How ironic to see such a thing from the other side of the matter.

Was familial love always so conditional? It felt that way at points. A tired display of appearance and joy to keep nosy neighbors out of private matters. My father was good at wearing the mask of a nice man, who was to say Mr. Weasley was any different? Not everyone could be a Tavish, so easygoing and forthright. 

Maybe I was petty? Maybe I wanted to poke at a situation so similar and different to my own? As if it would provide answers for what was going on in my father’s internal world for my own peace of mind. AlI did not know for sure, but the words flew unbidden from my mouth.

“Is Percy your son or a nephew?” 

Arthur looked at me, his expression thunderstruck and frozen, not knowing what to answer. He never had a chance to wrestle with the options, honesty or lies before a knock at the door put an end to our discussion. One of the older men who worked in the department stepped inside and I took the opportunity to slip out the door with a quick farewell.

I didn’t feel good about what I had said, but it was done now. There was no reason for it but my own spitefulness and growing anxiety about seeing my father at the Minister’s behest. I had to find a way out of that arrangement that made me look stupid or would provide me the ability to plead ignorance to what Scrimgeour truly wanted of me. I had options. Though they were foggy, vapid and hard to grasp at this moment.  

Oo0Oo0

August 22, 1996

The end of the month came quietly in turn, rumors and fear perpetuated the air. It seemed unusually quiet for a country at war, there had been few arrests for Death Eater activity, I often checked the arrest pages for my brother (heaven forbid), or my unsavory Avery cousins. It would be nice to be informed about something that would put Lucinda in a joyous mood, though Harrow Avery seemed the Avery least inclined to directly practice acts of political terrorism. Harrow was a creature prone to terrorizing Lucinda with his mere existence which was a feat in and of itself.

I checked the date and the carefully wrapped book of crossword puzzles and new quill for Percy’s birthday. This new administration seemed less… social then the Fudge administration, but per Madam Umbridge when she put the personal calendar on my desk, a secretary’s job was to handle these little social matters like birthdays, anniversaries and the social things that made the whole office’s life more pleasant. 

I didn’t tell her that Eddie handled those things out of a deep enjoyment for the practice.

It was a simple thing to put the gift on his desk with the card, while Eddie had mentioned the box of chocolates was a traditional office gift, Percy did not appear to have much of a sweet tooth, though he did spend his few breaks working on the newspaper crosswords and I noticed his quill was getting a bit on the short side from all of the sharpening for his note taking sessions for the Minister.

It seemed a more practical gift, I decided to state it was from the office as whole and move on. I didn’t want to claim all of the credit, that would be weird, awkward and… Honestly, it would cross a line I did not care to cross. 

I left the gifts on his chair and went to make a cup of coffee in the break room, I put far more sugar then I needed too, it was not coffee with my sugar levels but more like a coffee flavored candy. A tooth rotting goodness that would only make me feel ill in the aftermath. I did like sweets, but not a too sweet coffee as I was finding out. 

It was nice to sip coffee at the break room counter with my thoughts. I wondered what I would do if I left the Ministry. Maybe write a book? Perhaps articles of political commentary that were currently only several angry paragraphs in my journal? How strange to think about my life after the Ministry, it was unlikely I was to remain here for the rest of my life and I was becoming more certain by the day that it would come at the first opportunity I had to do so. I would ride this Voldemort unpleasantness out here, at least I would know what was going on and not have to relay on a paper of questionable morals and if Alex was found behaving badly I would be among the first to know.

A couple of quick raps on the doorframe pulled me from my thoughts. 

“Audrey,” Percy’s voice was low as he stepped into the break room doorway and smiled at me broadly, he was holding the book and quill I had put on his chair. “Thank you for this!”

“Better than chocolate?”

“Much better.” There was a pink hue to his cheeks that seemed to go to the tips of his ears that clashed with his hair. He fiddled with the book before placing the quill inside the book like a bookmark while he seemed to struggle for whatever was on the tip of his tongue. 

“Do you have any plans to celebrate?”

Percy shrugged, seeming to come back to himself in the blink of an eye. “I’m having drinks with Oliver at my flat. There’s a Quidditch match replay tonight.” He paused. “It’s hard to listen to the news now.”

I nodded in agreement. Things felt normal enough, but the tension in the air was like a heavy fog of uncertainty and fear. 

“I’m listening to a lot of radio shows now, it’s nice to be involved in things that don’t involve the day to day realities.”

“You have point there. Anything good?”

“There’s a special on Mondays about great accidental inventions of history that’s really good. It’s at seven.”

“I’ll have to look into that.”

Umbridge’s croaky voice called down the hallway for me, putting an end to our talk as Percy stepped back to let me return to the office, a stolen moment at its end.

Chapter Text

September 13, 1996

The poster looked up at me with a blank expression of hollowed eyes behind a mask that was ornate, but simple in design that stood out against the dark backdrop of a raised hood. I was looking at a Death Eater uniform for the new information posters for the Daily Prophet. The sketch reached up to remove its mask to reveal a very basic idea of a man. 

A wave of sickness came upon me as I pictured my brother's face instead. The intensity of his grey eyes and the rogue lock of dark hair falling across his forehead. 

Please don't get arrested. Please leave this story you’re pursuing behind to get back to this Thalia person.

I had no leads on Thalia, she was as elusive and mysterious as Alex, there was no paper trail in any family trees the Ministry kept. So I doubted she was related to any pureblood family that still existed. I was beginning to think she was foreign, though Valencia was sure she lived in the UK by the way Alex spoke of her. The idea held water, a foreign woman with no extended relations to show up in generational records the Ministry kept. I would have to start going through the census records next to help narrow down a timeline. 

I pushed the poster away, cringing at the Death Eater's expression shifted to something horrible and violent. More animal than human, the barrier fully torn down to reveal hatred and savagery, no those were traits inherent in humans, not animals. A snake and other animals did as their nature commanded. Humans had the capacity to make choices that deliberately hurt others.

Scrimgeour stepped out of his office and tapped his cane on the floor to get our attention, Madam Umbridge stood next to her door with a smug grin, content to be in a seat of power where she wasn't being assailed by unstable children as she called them, something that was so off the cuff it made Percy wince. 

"I've taken the liberty of having these posters made by a sketch artist from the Law Enforcement office. People should know what the Death Eater uniform is, even if they don't commit all of their crimes in it."

There were murmurs of agreement throughout the office, including from myself. It made sense, as eerie and unsettling as the image was in the moments of dread where I imagined my wayward brother on a wanted poster.

"I am also pleased to announce we are making progress on arresting Death Eaters, Stan Shunpike from the Knight Bus early this morning for claiming to have inside information on You-Know-Who’s plans.”

Stan Shunpike? I remembered him from when the Knight Bus dropped me off at Thornell. Was it almost a year ago? It sure didn’t feel that way.

“There will not be time wasted with putting these people to trial,” Scrimgeour continued, "We have lost too much time and allowed his supporters to gain a foothold and get comfortable. We must show strength.”

"What about the International Confederation?" I slipped into the conversation as Scrimgeour stopped to take a breath. "Unless you have caught this man actively committing acts of terrorism, a burden of proof must be met in the eyes of international law.”

Percy looked at me with wide eyes at my blatant questioning of an authority figure.

I could hear Umbridge clicking her tongue in disgust.

"Without indelible proof it's considered an indefinite detention and edges into war crimes, which is not a good look for any administration let alone a fledgling one."

Scrimgeour looked at me as if had grown a second head. I had barely spoken in his presence since our meeting. That comment did not contribute to my wanting him to think me stupid but pleasant.

"When this war is over, we will hold the trials. Until then, they will remain in Azkaban until their master has been dealt with."

Somehow I doubted that. 

Administrations never had good intentions when people went to jail without a trial. Offering those things in the aftermath of conflict made an administration look weak and inefficient in the eyes of its people and the world at large and tended to bring more eyes from international managers to create a larger scandal than what one could really imagine. 

I nodded quietly and settled in to listen to the rest of Scrimgeour's talk, knowing this was not a fight I could win or sway minds over. I ignored the snide look Umbridge was sending in my direction. 

Percy would need to draft some preemptive statements on the arrest and simplify some of these wartime policies for the public, some of which were asking questions and drawing unfavorable comparisons. Scrimgeour would get any meeting notes from the department secretaries. Umbridge was to handle the internal matters handling interdepartmental issues while Scrimgeour made rounds and collected the latest intelligence from the Law Enforcement Office before having his meetings with the Daily Prophet, foreign embassy representatives and other matters related to governance and elbow rubbing.

"Audrey," Scrimgeour's voice cut through my thoughts, I was paying less attention than I should have been.

"Yes, Minister?"

"The Aurors have moved some old materials up to the extra storage room down the hall to make room for new records and sort incoming material, files, old evidence and the like. Perhaps you could take some time to sort it out and look for anything related to the previous war that the may have sent up by mistake.”

“When was the last time anyone went through it?”

“I was told five years, but it’s probably been longer.”

Meaning they threw everything in a closet until they needed the space and were lazy about putting things away when they moved it.

"Of course, sir. I'll head right down."

He seemed satisfied with this and called the meeting to close, Percy finishing up his meeting notes with a final flourish of his quill.

I gathered up my papers, checked my intake tray and placed everything in its proper place. I doubted I would be back in the office in a formal capacity today, sorting old files was full and time consuming, I would have to find a radio after lunch. Though the job would get me away from my desk for a few hours. I stepped out the door after exchanging a few quick words with Percy about editing some of the longer speeches for him, he thought they were missing something.

The storage room was halfway down the hallway, a recent edition from magical maintenance, I had heard them moving stuff in there yesterday while I was scheduling important court cases that needed the Minister to preside for the Wizengamot, instead of just the head of the necessary department. The new door was heavy and made of oak, no different from any of the other doors on the floor, but with no fancy plaque to mark its status as a a glorified closet.

I closed the door to the storage room behind me and lit one of the magelights by the door, a soft glow soon emerging to reveal a collection of boxes and filing cabinets that were dented and piled in various corners of the small room. Most of the filing cabinets were along the wall, but probably unsorted and unorganized within. The piles of boxes spread throughout the center of the room were probably excess files that I would have to put an extension charm in place for. I took note of a very large storage cabinet in the back of the room that looked as if it had been carelessly thrown into its new home. It looked ominous for the sheer size and weight in comparison to the others.

I climbed over a box that I was sure was full of papers and moved the magelight to the ceiling where it belonged before opening the box to look at the files inside. Maybe I would be lucky and something about Thalia would land in my lap. 

No. Never mind. These files were from the fifties.

Who sorted these case records for law enforcement?

Oh, this was a case about a black widow who killed three husbands! Fun!

There was a scratching noise from somewhere behind me, low and soft. Probably a mouse. 

It was easy to fall into the rhythm of the work, letting my eyes drift and let the sheer mindlessness of the task come over me. The steady shuffling of paper as I moved everything aside by date to hit with a sorting spell that Percy had showed me when I was finished emptying the box. Being a secretary was not a bad job, all things considered. I just needed to have more patience for handling clowns with political power and war crimes.

Skreee 

The sound made me jump, it seemed closer and or was echoing off the walls. The room was still and silent for a moment before I shrugged and returned to my task. Probably a rat.

My tasks were not things I found difficult. Though it was the sort of thing that would send me to an asylum in one of the special jackets without something to distract me. I began to whistle some song from the radio I had heard last night.

I heard skittering somewhere above my head and looked around the room with a hand resting on my wand. There was nothing above me. Nothing around me- Wait! What was that odd shape…!

Suddenly, the magelight dimmed causing me to look up once more as my wand made a soft ringing noise. My eyes took precious moments to adjust to the sudden lack of light before my wand lit with a lumos charm only to be pointed frantically around the room as my heartbeat quickened. 

Skreeee 

Something wet and smelly dripped onto the floor next to me.

I moved my wand up quickly, my eyes now adjusted to the light my wand provided.

The lich looked down at me from the ceiling, its nails dug into the ceiling to hold it in place. Its head tilted, smiling a gleaming, toothy smile as blood dripped from its eyes to the floor below, half of its face lit while the rest lay in shadow. A wild shriek escaped my throat as I scrambled to my feet and pressed my back to a nearby filing cabinet, my heart pounding loudly in my ears. It released its grip on the ceiling and fell to the floor in a crumpled heap like a rag doll before rising onto shattered limbs, spewing more vile on the floor as it’s claw like hands scratched the floor like a cat, tearing at the carpet with a ripping sound as it dragged it's broken limbs behind it.

My stomach churned at the image in front of me.

Pieces of the monster's skin were falling away like ash, leaving only exposed flesh and bone as a black bile dribbled from its cracked, dry lips. The eyes took all of my attention. I realized it was not blood that was coming from its eyes, it was more the black bile of rot and decay. The smell was otherworldly, the heavy stench of rotting meat fell over me like a cloud as the beast shambled forward, shuttering and moaning its unnatural existence. A creature from my nightmares as a girl after listening to Grandpa’s story about the man who tried to bring his wife back from the dead, my child’s mind turning it from something stagnant to something out of horror and myth, a thing that I was convinced lived under my bed or the attic.  

“B-back to the grave with you!”

Fire sprung from the tip of my wand with a roar, the air growing suddenly hot from the force of the flames.

The creature screamed as the fire engulfed it. The flames died and left the monster to shamble awkwardly in place, it moaned as its flesh fell away, blowing away like ash and cinders to form something new in its place. A face emerging from the monster’s chest, it features hard and masculine. 

I took a step to the side, my back still pressed against the file cabinet and placed a hand on my erratically beating heart as the creature in front of me warped and twisted, straightened itself to stand like a person and not in its usual slumped posture, its bones cracking as they repaired themselves.

My father stood before me, looking at me with his dark eyes, his silver hair in radical contrast. The Graves men did tend to start graying fairly young. He was standing tall and efficient in his dress robes, his expression was one of stoney continence and a set stubborn jaw. It was odd to see my father in front of me after so long apart. I forgot how tall and imposing he was, how much space he took up by standing in a room. Jack Graves was not heavyset, but he was sturdy and broad shouldered, like a tree with deep roots who could not be moved or intimidated by the act of an ancient god. 

Jack Graves looked disappointed, his eyebrows in an arch, creased together in the way he had looked at me on the night I left home and vowed to find Alex. It felt so long ago now. 

“I was right.” Jack’s voice was low and authoritative in a way that left me feeling small. I doubted it was something he did intentionally, but it felt very much like it was in this case after the things I had yelled at him. My wand arm went limp at my side. “You’ll never find him. He doesn’t want to be found. Give up and come home!”

I shook my head.

“You have failed! You’ll be nothing more than a failed Graves, you bring shame upon this family!”

I covered my ears, my wand fumbled through my fingers, the handle of my wand pressing against the shell of my ear so hard it hurt.  

Jack’s hair began to darken, the wrinkles on his face began to fill and the years began to fall off of him like the hands of time were moving backwards. His dress robes darkened from a deep blue to a heavy black, like what I had seen in the Death Eater wanted posters as my brother now stood before me.

He looked at me before putting a silver mask on his face, his grey eyes visible through the holes in the mask.

Alex.

Come home.

Please.

The words died in my throat as he pulled his wand from his sleeve, revealing the dark mark burned upon his arm. I stepped to the side once more to put distance between me and my brother. I stepped back as he stepped forward. I tripped over something behind me and fell to the ground, I felt something wooden scrape my back as I fell, pain shooting up my spine as my wand rolled out of reach into the darkness beyond.

Alex loomed over me like a specter, a hollowness in his eyes that spoke to an empty soul, one corrupted by something I did not understand. 

"No. NO!"

It hurt to breathe. The ache in my chest moved into my throat, a dry scratchy sensation of grief and dust.

"Please...!" The word was so quiet it was not even a whisper, just a breath into the empty silence of the room. 

Don’t go where I cannot follow.

He was pointing his wand at me. I had seen Alex duel a hundred times and he looked as he did now. A firm stance and a steady grip on his wand as he slowly advanced.

The tip of his wand was pointing at my face when Alex suddenly turned his head to something behind me and melted away into a vague glob I did not recognize. 

A group of eight redheads with their backs to me.

Odd.

What did one call a group of redheads? A flame? A burning? Didn’t matter. Stupid thought.  

“Riddikulus!” 

The red-haired hoard turned into a flock of cardinals that flew back into the large storage cabinet drawer with a chorus of birdsong. The drawer slammed shut with a clang before the cabinet was bound in conjured silver chains.

Oh. It was a boggart. We did not have many of those in the states. A few in big cities or mostly abandoned farms, but they were an uncommon menace. I felt as if I had known this, but the fear had eaten away at my sense of reality.

“Audrey!” I looked up to find Percy moving towards me at a run, hauling himself over a large box to kneel by my side with a hand on my shoulder. I kept my attention on the cabinet the boggart had retreated into as Percy fussed around next to me to find my wand and press it into my shaking hands. "Are you alright?"

I managed to nod, my lips were pressed tightly together and I rolled my wand against my leg while small white sparks leapt out of the tip.

"Can you stand?"

It took a moment to get my legs to cooperate to try and get to my feet. Percy was faster, he leapt to his feet and extended a hand to help me stand on wobbly knees and lead me away from the box with the monster inside back towards the door. 

I assumed he was going to take me out to the hallway but he guided me out the door to the break room down the hall while my knees seemed to take the spineless texture of jelly. 

"I'll inform the storage team that they have a boggart and that they need to be more careful in the future in regards to checking their materials.” He helped me into a chair before putting his efforts into finding me a glass of water. "Honestly, they should be better than this!" He looked over at me, his glasses sliding down his nose before he came back to my side, pressing the glass into my shaking hands. "No Death Eater will ever darken the halls of the Ministry, Audrey, that much I can promise."

"Thank you." My voice sounded muffled to my own ears. I didn’t bother to remind him that Lucius Malfoy, one of Fudge’s regular visitors, was currently sitting in Azkaban for his part in the Department of Mysteries break-in. It seemed counterproductive. "How did you know to come find me?"

"I heard you screaming."

Oh.

I didn’t know when I started screaming. That was unsettling.

I took in the smudges of dust on his robes under the bright lights of the break room. Odd for someone so proper. I peered down at my own robes, I looked like I had been rolling around in a dust bin or in a pollen filled meadow. I attempted to brush the smudges away with shaking hands, but they only seemed to become more noticeable by my attention. 

“I’m… I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Did he just see the Death Eater of my brother and not the other things? I hoped so.

“Boggarts like to play with people, they dig into your subconscious mind and show you things that you may not even know frighten you.”

I nodded slowly letting Percy’s calm tones wash over me like a soothing balm. 

“But they only have as much power as you give them.”

I brought the toes of my shoes together in three loud taps as if the motion would apparate me away with nary a thought.

Percy drummed his fingers on the table. “I was… Little during the first war. I think my first memory is my mother finding out her brothers were killed or her telling us where to hide in the house. I don’t know, it just runs together.”

I looked at Percy carefully, he remained stoic and calm, but the monsters for him were real ones, not like the ones I had crafted as a nervous child. His monsters had returned and mine only lurked in the shadows of old stories. My brother was potentially Percy’s nightmare and he still did not hesitate to help me get away from the boggart. Maybe the boggart decided to kill two birds with one stone over a similar fear?

The boggart changing to what I now realized was Percy’s family seemed to strike a similar chord to my own fears. Was he afraid they would never welcome him back? That his rejection was so full that not even one of his siblings would reach out? I had support. I had Lucinda and Tavish. Misty and Zara. Valencia, Quincy and Cassandra. I thought about Arthur and the family photo, was that something Percy wanted when he sat alone in his home?

In a way, Alex and Percy were alike. Willing to walk away from family entirely. Was I the outlier in this trifecta of abandonment or just the one not plagued by male pride and ego?

"How… How much did you see?" 

"Just you on the floor. I thought you hit your head or something. And the boggart of course."

I nodded, relief making my limbs slack before Percy moved his hand towards the glass of water I was caressing as if to quietly tell me to have a drink. Which I did so quickly, the cool glass restoring feeling to my face and enforcing that I was safe. That everything was okay.

“The boggart didn’t lead with the Death Eater. My grandfather was an Auror, important and well respected for solving many cases of dark magic. He spoke of one specific case that’s haunted me for years.”

“What was the case?” 

“There was a man who loved his wife beyond all reason and upon her death, he fell to the siren call of the Dark Arts. The voices told him that he could bring his wife back from the dead. That her soul was free in the world and sought only a vacant, physical shell. After all, no one notices when No-Maj prostitutes disappear.”

Percy stared at me with a horrified expression. Maybe normal people did not talk about things like this, Annette was not a bar one should hold up to diagnose normality, but for once he was silent and all my lips could do was move as the story took hold of my senses, Grandpa Atticus’ excited voice filling my memory as the words twisted to something of my own telling.

“Well, word finally reached the Aurors after he stole away a witch. They stormed the wizard's home, a scent of decay in the air while bones were hanging from the rafters. He had completely lost his mind, but the worst thing was in the back room. Something… unnatural.” I took a deep breath. “He took the parts of the women made a terrible thing, grandpa called it the lich. It laid on the table and moaned, but there is no true life in a creature sewn together by a madman. It never moved, it just stared at them and seemed to ask for death.”

Unlike Grandpa Atticus and Annette who took an odd pleasure in such matters, I was not going to mention the skull bowls and the cannibalism. 

“I used to see it in my closet, the mismatched, misshapen limbs and empty eyes. That was the first thing the boggart used to upset me. Then it preyed on the fears that did not belong to a little girl.” 

We were silent for a few minutes, the openness of the conversation left me feeling vulnerable in a way that was unsettling. I had a very easy life in many ways, I had an opportunity to have childhood fears, the create something dreadful that as an adult I knew could never exist in this reality. Percy never had that, his monsters were as real now as they were when he was a child. 

"I'll make the arrangements to get the boggart removed."

I felt my head bob in agreement.

"Do you want to go home?"

"No. I've got too much to do here."

"I can cover for you, Audrey, it's not a problem."

"Thanks, but I'll be fine in a few minutes." I looked up at him with a small smile. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

Oo0Oo0

There was something different about my apartment. I was not a messy person, everything had a place, a time and a particular way to exist in my space. I cleaned once a week on Thursday nights while listening to the news and a radio show that told dark fairy tales from around the world because aside from the incest and creative murders, it was very easy to listen too. 

It was not Thursday and my apartment was spotless. 

The carpet was fluffy. The kitchen counters and various tabletops polished to a shine. The spider web in the upper corner of the living room had been removed. 

Unusual. I was not this through.

Did someone break into my apartment just to clean it? Or did I just have a very courteous burglar?

I pulled my wand out of my pocket and turned out the lights. Homenum Revelio. The light at the tip of my wand pulsed and flickered before fading away. No one was here. Should I step outside and call the law to be sure?

I dallied in the doorway over going further into my home and stepping outside to go run to Lucinda and the authorities. No. This was my home. I couldn't run to Lucinda over everything. I was capable enough to investigate this odd situation and handle the consequences.

The deep breath I took steadied me as I stepped into the apartment, my stomach in knots as I gathered a stunning spell at the edge of my mind. I was not a good duelist or experienced in combat, but anyone who was still here would expect me to be comfortable, to not notice anything amiss and be unarmed for my comfort.

I checked under the couch before pressing my back against the wall to peer around the corner down the dark hallway. 

No. I was not going down there. 

I cast another spell to reveal latent charms and a stronger spell to detect life of any sort. Nothing. Nothing at all.

The door had been locked with a particularly difficult charm when I left this morning, if anyone had tried to come in, the door would have turned red when I put the key in the lock. I had anti-apparition charms all of the apartment. Those were still up too.

Who comes into an apartment just to clean it? Was it Barry? No, he’d never leave Thornell for an out of the way nicety or do anything like this without telling me. 

After several minutes of checking for spells and other things, I declared the apartment was just cleaned and not tampered with I started to relax. I did good spellwork, I knew this. I was safe. 

But who comes to an apartment without leaving any evidence just to clean?

Chapter Text

September 30, 1996

Sharing time in the file office was not something that happened often with anyone. I was prone to taking my time looking for things out of a combination of distraction and an instinctive need to avoid Dolores Umbridge. Which often meant doing the bulk of my file hunting for the department alone. Would using magic make this easier? Absolutely. Did these files have very long, complex titles and subcategories of numbers and letters? Yes. Which normally indicates that the system was not designed by anyone who did secretarial work of any sort.

Meaning Percy had whole sections memorized because he worked in three expansive catch all categories. Today he was next to me looking for something a bit more specific.

I did not dislike the company, it was just different to have another person in the room who would periodically catch my eye and smile at me while butterflies danced in my stomach.

Get a grip, Audrey. 

"Can I pick your brain about something?"

Percy seemed to perk up like I had dangled a treat in front of him as he closed a file drawer before sliding open another and sitting on the floor next to me. "Of course!"

"What do you think about Dumbledore?"

That was clearly not what he was expecting from me by the way his expression shifted and his jaw clenched in irritation. 

"What brought this on?"

I pushed my hair back out of my face as I thought very carefully about what I was going to say next. Percy was not duplicitous, he was a very honest kind of person which meant he would say things in the heat of the moment if he was riled up enough. 

"This… political flux he's in with the Ministry. A powerful, well-respected figure like Dumbledore doesn't go from that to persona non grata over the course of four months, even for insisting on what was a crazy statement at the time."

Percy exhaled the breath he was holding and I focused on the strands of hair that were drifting across his forehead that had escaped whatever potion he had used on his hair that morning in an effort to look older and more professional. 

"His return to public life has been nonexistent. No interviews with the papers, he does not seem to be willing to work openly with the Ministry if the last several months are anything to go by."

He gave a stiff nod of agreement. 

Okay. I think he was hooked, now if I can get him to do his favorite thing. Talk.

There was no hesitation from Percy. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“Yes.”

He tapped his fingers on the folders he was holding, seeming to collect his thoughts. “I don’t trust Dumbledore.”

One of my eyebrows raised of its own volition, his voice was direct and firm. 

“There was always something weird going on at Hogwarts, especially after Potter started attending. Five years ago Dumbledore hid some magical artifact in the school and Potter gets the idea to go after it with my little brother Ron and their friend Hermione.”

Hermione is a really unusual name. Wait, I thought Potter’s friend’s name was Rupert? Guess Eddie got that wrong. 

“Ron beat a giant chess set and got a concussion.”

“How do you get a concussion playing chess?”

“He was the piece.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“The year after that there was a basilisk slithering through the pipes or some such nonsense and-“ he paused for a moment, something distant and angry in his eyes- “paralyzed multiple muggle-born students before taking my sister into its chamber.”

Basilisk. They were giant snakes often hailed as a King of Serpents, but I did not understand that label as they were an accident of nature and magic. I believed Horned Serpents were the true rulers of the serpentine, if there was such a thing, because they were a part of nature, not a mockery of it. Why the hell was one slithering loose in a school?

“Your sister?”

Percy nodded, “Ron and Harry found their way to the chamber and got Ginny out when we had given her up for dead.”

“How old was your sister?”

“Eleven.” 

I thought about the picture I had seen in Arthur’s office, my thoughts lingering on the little girl in the photograph and felt my stomach drop in horror. 

“I heard a rumor that Potter could talk to snakes? Is there any truth to that?”

Percy nodded, “Yes, everyone thought he was the Heir of Slytherin and attacked those students. It’s more likely there was another parselmouth wandering around unsupervised.”

“Unsupervised?” 

“They’re dangerous, it’s the sign of a dark wizard.”

“That’s not true!” 

He gave me a look. 

“Illvermorny’s founder, Isolt Sayre could understand snakes, it’s a big part of our magical history. She was a descendent of Slytherin and she was not a bad person for being able to understand snake language. I don’t see how two instances of that you know of a rare gift being badly used means all parselmouths will turn to dark arts." 

I knew I should stop, but I was tired of sitting on an opinion that was different from the common view. MACUSA had a fairly tolerant view of the serpent tongued, but those who had the gift kept quiet probably from vast European influence on American society and the abilities' scary reputation. There was a time when European settlers tried to stamp out the gift in indigenous communities in America and they tried the same in India years later. There were still massive pockets of distrust for those who could speak with snakes, but it was no longer a death sentence due to the need for rustic MACUSA assignments. Not entirely trusted, but needed in many ways. It was why my father wanted me to stay quiet about it, it would be a scandal of some sort if word got out. A parseltongue in one of the oldest and most well regarded families in Magical America, unimaginable! Along with how it would upset my mother who was openly depressed and sickly by that point. 

The fact that Jack was actively having an affair with Vanessa would have upset my mom far more than my hissing.

In many of my father's pockets of influence, my parseltongue ability would have turned his voters away from him. They were fickle and easily frightened. Perhaps I should have gone home to hiss with a rattlesnake on a street corner in front of MACUSA headquarters before the presidential election? 

That would have been a sight.

"Really? Name one parselmouth who did not turn to dark magic?"

"Why would one who didn't turn to dark magic say they could talk to snakes if it would erase every good thing they accomplished? It's called prejudice, Percy."

"Fine, maybe we disagree."

"Oh, we do!"

"Perhaps we could pick this up another time?"

"I'd love to!"

His eyes met mine in a moment that made me flush for reasons other than temper. “We haven’t had lunch together in a while.”

I raised an eyebrow, “Our schedules don’t allow it.”

“Well, maybe we should make time for that. We do a lot of…” His hand drifted over the files he was holding, my eyes lingering on the freckles on his hands and trailing up his wrist before disappearing under the sleeve of his robes. “Cross pollination of our immensely important administrative tasks.”

I giggled. I handled the general office schedule and extraneous paperwork for Umbridge, Percy handled the Minister’s affairs, minor paperwork and took notes in major meetings for him of various sorts. There was no real cross pollination between our jobs in any capacity, if I had to spend a whole day with Scrimgeour I would throw myself down the stairs. Though, spending the day with Umbridge was not much better, at least she would stay in her office or attend other meetings on the Minister’s behalf, leaving me to my own devices for the most part.

"Lunch sounds nice." Percy's face lit up, either from his smile or the growing blush of color across his cheeks or some combination of the two. "We've gotten off topic."

"Hm, what was the topic?"

"Dumbledore, you were telling me about the giant snake in Hogwarts."

"Right, Dumbledore," Percy scoffed. "The year after that, Sirius Black breaks out of Azkaban, gets into the Gryffindor tower and tries to stab my brother."

Was his family cursed? Or was it just the proximity to one Harry Potter?

“Why would he try to stab your brother?”

“He thought he was Harry.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“And then, Dumbledore traps my brother in the Black Lake for Potter’s Triwizard Task. Frankly Audrey, the man’s lost his mind. He has no care for the safety of the students under his care and has been allowed to do as he pleases without any oversight in the process. Even old wizards can succumb to… well, lapses of the mind.”

“Did anyone die from these lapses of the mind?”

“No, but there were multiple near misses. Please tell me your Ilvermorny was not like this?”

“No… The worst thing that ever happened there was a student teacher falling down the stairs. He was fine.”

He took down three eleven year olds with him who seemed to cushion the blows. The children were fine.

"That sounds dangerous. He should have been using the railing."

"He was, he just lost his balance while talking to his mentor teacher."

Percy got to his feet, closing a file drawer with a clunk and tucking the files under his arm before reaching down to help me rise, his hand was warm and was slow to release my fingers as he gazed down at me with a thoughtless kind of smile that made my stomach flip. 

I had images of things I wondered about in the dead of night in that moment, primarily what kissing Percy would be like. I did not think he was the 'shove a tongue down a girl's throat' type, but I had no real comparison to that experience. 

I had missed our lunch breaks, they were friendly discussions about anything but politics, sometimes we would team up on crossword puzzles but with Scrimgeour and Umbridge arriving at the top office, our coordinated breaks had been among the first things to fall to the wayside.

Percy held the door open for me. He was such a gentleman, it was a little disorienting at points. I don't think I ever touched a doorknob if we were going to the same place, even when we were having some sort of disagreement. There was something intensely old fashioned about it that had grown on me over the last year. 

"I don't know what else to tell you about the Dumbledore issue, Audrey." Percy shrugged and adjusted his glasses. "He's an old, powerful wizard in a tower with more control than he needs over one of the greatest repositories of magical history in the world."

A strange thought came to my mind. Albus Dumbledore was old, powerful and worked outside of the Ministry’s view and control. He had confessed to a child army last year, though that was later proven false, but the membership for such a group did exist. If teenagers could come up with something like that and be so underhanded, I was willing to bet they had learned it from the adults in their lives in some capacity.  

What if Dumbledore had an organization of his own? He had enough magical power and respect outside the Ministry to do so and Dumbledore did fight Voldemort a few months ago. Paramilitary groups always had spies, I had listened to enough of grandpa’s lectures to learn that much. The previous year had not instilled in me any great trust for the British Ministry of Magic, and I’m sure that sense of distrust was more prevalent in those who had grown up during a time when Dumbledore was far more regarded as a wizard. 

If anyone had the connections I needed to lay a new path to finding Alex or Thalia, then it would be worth the risk to reach out to Albus Dumbledore.

How would I reach him? How would I ensure my letter was read for a meeting to be set or even just to get a response from a very influential wizard? 

The letter began to draft itself in my mind as Percy and I returned to the office.

“Of course, Dumbledore has never had any real oversight in how he runs Hogwarts,” Percy quickly stepped ahead of me to open the office door for me as he found a new angle to focus his dislike. “It’s purely reputation, no one wants to enforce any true management of Hogwarts, to tell him how an efficient, safe school is run or how many regulations he’s breaking that year with whatever harebrained affair he’s involved with. The school is desperately in need of good management after the last few years.”

Dear Professor Dumbledore- No. Headmaster is more formal. 

I returned to my desk as Percy continued to speak, drifting to the Hogwarts Board as a new topic, most of them being elderly and half not having their own children and therefore not being very understanding of issues related to modern education or the influence of Dumbledore’s management. 

“It’s a school, not a cult of personality!”

I nodded in agreement, wondering if I should play the MACUSA First Daughter card before deciding against it. I would have this meeting on my own merits if I could, if Dumbledore pieced my relations by my accent I would be honest if it would advance my plea for aid. 

I glanced over at Percy who was arranging the papers he had pulled for the Minister, his silence speaking more to his return to duty than a lack of interest in the topic we had been discussing. I enjoyed talking with Percy, he was very smart where he could sometimes leave me feeling like a bit of an idiot for a lack of intrinsic understanding of the minutiae of government policy in this country. There were also occasions where he would say some really stupid stuff that, in turn, made me feel like a genius. 

There was a conduct handbook open on my desk. Odd. I left mine in the lower drawer of my desk and this one was brand new. What kind of monster would do that to a new book?

Consilium 394 - Office Fraternization 

Collected statements with regards to inner-office fraternizing, (see Consilium 184 - 200.34 subsection B-2 in the collective volumes of Ministry policy guide) involved parties in the same office can face being assigned to separate departments, one party volunteering to relocate to a new department or, per the recommendations of their supervisor, terminated from their position at the Ministry of Magic.

Inner-office relationships can be detrimental to a work environment, creating discomfort in coworkers, amplifying alliances and lay waste to an idea of fair advancement. Particularly if one of the parties is in a position of power over another, a department manager, supervisor or even just a senior clerk.  

I paused at mentioning of senior clerk and looked over at Percy who was deep in the files he had just pulled at his desk. 

There was an intense heat along my face as I looked slowly around the office only to find Dolores Umbridge peering at me from her office door with a smug, frog-like smile that told me all I needed to know about this book's origins. I knew a threat when I read one. 

Was she calling me a hussy?

This… thing with Percy had to come to an end. I could be kept here for political purposes, Percy did not have that kind of protection. If one could even call it that.

I had always been good at taking hints.

   Oo0Oo0

I placed the key in the lock with a heavy sigh and felt the weight of a very heavy envelope in my pocket. I had no optimism that the recipient would read it. A great wizard would probably cast this aside as junk mail, if he was even in his office at all. Dumbledore had been taking a lot of trips out of Hogwarts if Ministry intelligence was correct. Meaning Auror Dawlish had been hexed by Dumbledore for being caught following him. 

Dawlish was the kind of Auror my grandfather would be embarrassed by, talented plainly, but a lack of sense in the field was never something that could be truly remedied.

The crashing noise down the hall made me jump and pull out my wand. Was it the Aurors from the secret service? Did they finally figure out where I lived?

No. 

It was something else.

The House Elf at the end of the hall had large, tennis ball-like eyes and large, bat-like ears that made me feel as if she was staring into my soul. 

I ran after the House Elf with a startled shout as it ran up the nearby staircase to the roof. I didn’t think House Elves were very fast runners. They were small and short legged, I did not expect a problem with pursuit aside from my wearing heels, I kicked them off on the stairs to take the stairs two at a time, the shoes clunking as they rolled down the staircase. 

The elf blasted the door open to the rooftop with my pursuit gaining more traction in nylon covered feet. 

There was such familiarity under the dirt on her face and the burgundy blouse she wore as a dress.

“Stop!”

The elf froze suddenly and turned to look at me.

“Tinsy?”

The House Elf gave a squeak of joy and ran towards me, wrapping her arms around my leg with a crushing grip. “Miss Audrey! Tinsy has looked all over for Audrey Graves and found her at last!”

"Tinsy!" I sputtered as I tried to gently shake Tinsy off my leg. I lost my balance and fell back onto the hard stone of the roof with a thump. "I gave you clothes, you’re free! You can go where you like! No masters to hold you back in life!” The leg that had Tinsy wrapped around it was growing wet with either water from the puddle I had landed in or Tinsy's tears. Probably both.

Tinsy looked up, her bulbous eyes were drowning in tears. “Tinsy was happy to be free of Mistress! Tinsy missed Audrey Graves. Tinsy wishes to stay with little mistress!”

There was a silence that left me feeling, not terrible, but regretful. Freeing Tinsy had been an impulsive stab at my step-mother, who liked to have her around as a status symbol. I had not considered the consequences of freeing an elf that had never been truly loyal to my family after my mother died. Tinsy was part of Lucina Ainsley's dowry, she was loyal only to Alex… and me. Tinsy only completed orders given by the two of us with any efficiency or speed, not that Alex and I often had orders to give, both of us seeing Tinsy as more of a babysitter of sorts who would often bring us snacks even if we were not hungry while we were doing homework. Tinsy never did that for anyone else in the house. My hand flew up into my face with a resounding smack.

Tinsy gasped, “Miss Audrey, don’t punish yourself!”

“I freed you from your bond to the house, but not to me right?” I pulled a glove out of my pocket. “Here Tinsy.” I held it out to the House Elf still clutching my leg like it was her link to life itself. “Will this work?”

Tinsy looked up at me with such a fearsome expression that I was taken aback by it. She did not move. She did not blink. I moved the glove closer. Tinsy’s face grew harder and I felt distinctly uncomfortable.  

“No work for free house elves,” She said coolly as she reached up and moved my hand away with her cold fingers. “Hard to use magic when we’re not bound to a home.”

I blinked as my mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “So you are free then?” Something clicked in my mind. “Have you been cleaning my apartment?”

“Tinsy chooses to stay with Audrey Graves.” She raised her head and glared defiantly. “Tinsy likes magic. And you."

I would take that as a yes to the apartment question.

I did not know much about House Elves, I had never asked about it, I had just accepted Tinsy’s presence in my life without learning about her or House Elves in general. Did a home or family act as a focus for Tinsy to use her magic the way a wand did for most wix? 

“But… Look, Tinsy,” my head began to pound with an oncoming headache. “I’ve left all of that…” I waved my hand around as the words sat on the tip of my tongue. “Pomp and circumstance of being a Graves behind in America, I’m a normal clerk in the Ministry of Magic now and having a House Elf at my beck and call is going to make me more noticeable then I already am.” 

I paused for a moment, realizing for a moment I was still sitting in a puddle before the flood of questions in my mind pushed that little detail aside for the moment.

"How did you even get here? The transportation office would never let a house elf leave without a wix with them."

"Tinsy took a No-Maj ship." She turned her nose up in an expression of smugness mixed with disgust. "It was filthy, but Tinsy fixed that!"

"Really?"

She nodded, her smile a pure kind of smug. "They cannot fold sheets, or cook. Sailors tried to remove Tinsy with a No-Maj preacher but Tinsy fixed him! Nasty, filthy place."

"What did you do to the preacher, Tinsy?"

"Tinsy threw sheets at him to show how filthy these No-Majs were!"

Merlin's beard, there were some No-Maj sailors out there who probably thought their ship had some kind of demon onboard. That would not go over well with the International Statute if word got out.

"When did you leave Byrgen House?"

"A week after you. Tinsy wanted to leave just before that woman's next party." 

She did not have to tell me she stayed to watch the chaos, it was all over her face. 

"Magic became hard for Tinsy after Audrey Graves left home. Harder to move things and clean, unable to use magic at all until Tinsy decided to get on a boat to find you."

Interesting. Was House Elf magic tied to a person or a home? Could they make a person their home in a sense? It was an interesting idea but not one I could examine at the moment. 

Yeah. I did not have it in me to send her on her way. 

“Okay, but I have conditions. I will pay you a galleon a week to help Lucinda at her home and I will help you find a new position if that is ever something you want." Tinsy made a noise of disagreement. "Also, you cannot follow me to work, it’s weird. You’ll also have to try and get along with Barry, my Great-Aunt’s House Elf.”

Tinsy nodded as she wiped the tears from her bulbous eyes before something I said registered in her mind.

"She has an elf, and you want Tinsy there too?"

She looked very judgmental at the thought of a House Elf needing help with a family. Like it offended her elvish pride and sensibilities.

"There is a lot going on, the house needs to be spotless. The garden, immaculate. It's too much work for one elf, two elderly wix and I can only help on the weekends because of work. You will be greatly appreciated."

Tinsy beamed, I had never thought of Tinsy as proud, but I had never thought of myself as being brave either so I guess we were both products of our environment.

An idea came upon me as Tinsy's eyes glimmered with pride. I pulled the letter I had finished between mindless paperwork and ran my fingers over the wax seal of the envelope. 

"Tinsy. I have a favor to ask before you go to my aunt."

"Yes?"

"I need you to deliver a letter. Alex has made himself unplottable, and this letter must go to a man who could help me find him." I shifted so I was on my knees in front of Tinsy, who looked increasingly determined at the mention of Alex. "I need this task done in secrecy. Can you do that?"

Tinsy nodded as I pressed the envelope into her hands.

"I need this letter delivered to Albus Dumbledore."

Chapter Text

October 16, 1996

UPRISING IN YELLOWSTONE

At the top of the article was a picture of my father in a heavy forest, his wand drawn with a ferocious look in his eyes as he yelled at retreating figures, the picture version of my father conjuring a shield to protect himself from the volley of flaming arrows. There was fight in his eyes as the arrows bounced off his shield.

"Why are you running?" MACUSA President Jack Graves shouted to a group of Law Enforcement officials who were beginning a retreat from assailing werewolf forces in the deep forest of Yellowstone National Park as arrows of fire fell from the sky and trees began to tremble with magic as the battlefield began to come to life. Law Enforcement quickly fell back into line at the admonishment to begin the assault on the rebellious werewolves, who seemed to be slobbering at the opportunity to assault MACUSA officials with their affliction.

Beginning his career in MACUSA's Auror Department until a fall off a fourth floor fire escape put him on a path to politics, Jack Graves is quickly becoming one of the most hands-on presidents in recent memory. Famous on the floor of the senate for fiery speeches and a collection of binders containing information about the intricacies of law and policy among the MACUSA Senate, President Graves is already proving himself as a steady hand at the helm of a country embroiled in changing times for society.

Fresh off a meeting with the No-Maj president, Graves stated that it seemed the beginning of a decent partnership before clarifying that the No-Maj president was a charming, charismatic individual who seemed to the MACUSA's change in power in stride. Reportedly the two men share an interest and appreciation for the saxophone, as President Graves' brother plays the instrument with his brother-in-law's jazz band, Faux Tux.

President Graves, according to reports from Yellowstone, chose to lead the Aurors himself in an assault on the Yellowstone Werewolf Pack and their allies from Yosemite. Rumors claim that the Denali Pack of Alaska is preparing to come and offer support to their fellow werewolves per the revised American Werewolf Pack Agreement of 1981 in what is quickly becoming the first real test of werewolf solidarity in America and the power of the Pack Counsel.

I put the paper down and rolled my eyes. Jack Graves was very serious about being a commander in chief, a proud tradition of MACUSA leaders was to lead from the front lines as needed. Jack was a steady hand at the helm, but he always needed things done his way with minimal input from those around him. He was always convinced he knew best and gave way only in the most minuscule of ways.

The paper was folded and slid into my desk drawer with a sigh. I hoped Jack was safe. I hoped he didn't get bit by a werewolf. It was really the minimum a man could expect from an estranged daughter.

At least America did not have an equivalent to Fenrir Greyback, a name that sent cold chills up my spine. The article that I had read earlier this week spoke of how dangerous he was, that he was a werewolf who had a preference for children. A monster who, rumor had it, had taken to attacking people even out side of a full moon. Though, the other rumor about Greyback eating the flesh of his latest victims was something I found far more horrific. Disgusting, horrid monster!

I took a deep breath and adjusted the new ink holder on my desk, a spinning plate that had small sections the perfect size for my preferred refillable inkwells with a container for extra quills in the center. An anonymous gift for my birthday. Though, I had suspicions about who actually sent it. I glanced around them to Percy's empty desk with a sigh, grateful the rest of the office had been sent out for various meetings around the Ministry. I was staying behind to do paperwork and watch the office.

Frankly, half of the office could stand to be away more often.

Oo0Oo0

October 18, 1996

I stepped out of the fireplace a few minutes before I was set to meet this mysterious Headmaster and took in this beautiful office. It was spacious and welcoming with the fluffy red carpet and old oak bookshelves covered in an array of books and silver instruments that I was unable to place the purpose of. They seemed silly and nonsensical, perhaps just oddly shaped decorations at heart with no real purpose or they were powerful magical artifacts.

My attention drifted to the portraits on the walls where many of the occupants snored in their frames, some with one eye conspicuously opened to watch me. Except for one empty portrait who I assumed was out to look for the Headmaster to tell him his guest had arrived.

I admired the historical objects on display in the room, a sword with a ruby emblazoned hilt that shimmered in the light. I noted the name on the blade, Godric Gryffindor.

Hm. Did old Gryffindor use his sword for spellwork or as a stylistic choice?

What caught my attention next was a ragged hat on a shelf, it was worn and seemed unusual in what was so far a very historically rich office. I looked around and picked it up to examine it closer, it seemed thin in places, dirty and in need of repair. I wondered why it had been so neglected.

"Perhaps I like the way I look."

I dropped the hat with a shriek, backing away as it hit the floor. Low chuckles and scoldings from the portraits a mingled cacophony in my ears.

"Rude," the brim of the hat opened to allow an imitation of a croaky voice to escape.

"I'm so sorry," I knelt down next to the talking hat and gently picked it up by the brim, holding it as far from myself as I could manage like it was a wild animal. Some part of me was afraid it would try to bite me. "I'll put you back!"

"I don't remember you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You never attended Hogwarts. Has Dumbledore hired you?" There was some force keeping the hat in my hands, as if it refused to be put back on the shelf while it tried to figure me out.

"No, I went to Ilvermorny. I'm just here to talk to the Headmaster." I moved the hat closer to me, feeling more comfortable with the hat as it continued to speak. "Why do you think he hired me?"

"Foreign teachers will sometimes be sorted if there is a need to fill a Head of House position. Guiding young people is easier when core values are shared."

Wait a second…

"Are you the Sorting Hat?"

"Yes."

"I didn't think you'd be so… grody."

There was a barking laugh from one of the portraits that was pretending to be asleep.

I could feel the hat glaring at me as another portrait spoke in its defense. "Really! Low blow from a sooty yankee!"

Oh, Yankee. How original! I felt my eyes roll as I placed the hat on the shelf reverently with a quick apology as the portraits began a tirade.

"Americans are a pest!" An old woman exclaimed from her chair, waving her wand within her frame.

"They're too happy!" Another portrait chimed in.

"Smiling all the time!"

"They're late to every war!" An old battle-scarred warlock said from his portrait.

"While we do all the work!" A woman with a monocle spat from her frame.

"And they claim all the credit!" The battle-scarred warlock finished the refrain as he waved his wand angrily.

The office door swung open with a creak and the portraits quickly grew silent and still as Dumbledore stepped into the room.

Dumbledore looked like every picture I had ever seen of him, his long white hair and matching beard shimmered like moonlight, his crooked nose as if from an unhealed break supported half moon spectacles and could not hide his twinkling blue eyes that pictures in history books could not capture as he walked towards me to shake my hand in greeting.

"You must be Miss Graves."

I noted his shriveled, black hand with a wince before I collected myself.

"Mr. Dumbledore!" One of the portraits was giggling. "I'm so sorry about this!"

I was suddenly unsure how to address this man, he was never a teacher or authority figure in my life and the formalities of letters never translated well to the spoken word.

I wished I had put more thought into this endeavor.

"There is nothing to worry about. Please, have a seat." The Headmaster gave me an absentminded smile and walked towards his desk, his vibrant violet robes contrasting with the rest of the room in a spectacular fashion. As he sat behind his desk he gave me an encouraging nod and I took the empty seat across from him. It was a comfortable chair that was both soft and supportive. A chair that was worthy of short naps.

"It is unusual for a House Elf to be so freely devoted to a wizard," he smiled indulgently as he began to speak, folding his hands on the desk in front of him. "To cross continents after being freed is no small feat."

"Tinsy has always been unusually driven."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

"I only asked Tinsy to take the letter to you, I did not think she would be so literal in stalking you to put it into your hands."

"Until I read the contents of your letter, I thought Scrimgeour was showing some rarely displayed creativity."

"I am very sorry about that."

"There is no need, it's rare that anyone threatens to cut off my toes with such conviction." He stated this with an airy chuckle that made me slump down in my very soft chair. I had not heard this part of Tinsy's delivery report. She only told me she stayed to watch him read the letter before leaving.

"I know you're a very busy man, Headmaster, and I won't take much of your time, but I was hoping you could help me find my brother, Alex Graves?" I pulled out the interview my brother had done with Dumbledore before the Triwizard Tournament. "You interviewed with him for the Daily Prophet?"

"Ah, I do remember him. Such a serious young man, very articulate, we spoke for a couple of hours about international affairs and wizarding school competition. I was hoping he would come back for the tournament, but the Daily Prophet sent Rita Skeeter instead." I could tell by his tone and the slight shake of his head that this Rita Skeeter was not an impressive journalist.

"I've spoken with other papers that my brother has written for and no one has seen him since Voldemort's return at the end of the tournament." I paused, watching Dumbledore's face for anything I could use. His expression grew increasingly intrigued after I said Voldemort's name, like he did not expect that from me or anyone else. "The same period of time that you, presumably, began to act apart from the Ministry of Magic." I paused for a moment, he was silent, seeming to sense I had more to say. "I do not care how you spend your time, if you want to spend it riding unicorns, having tea with political radicals or fighting dark wizards, that's your prerogative. My only concern in this meeting is to try and find my brother. Nothing will get back to the Ministry about anything we discuss today. That much I promise."

"That is a noble undertaking, Miss Graves. You have much love and affection for your brother."

My eyes drifted to his blackened hand once more, I thought it looked burned, like those pictures from the old files Grandpa Atticus researched with his cold case club. I remembered the pictures from a case involving dark magic of some sort related to a ritual, but… I couldn't remember anything else about it. Just the burned out husk of a person who had done this to themselves by being nosy with unnatural powers, or perhaps he was a victim of nefarious things.

"Have you heard anything about him over the last year or so?" I wondered again if I should be more aggressive about my questioning.

"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific."

Paramilitary groups were not uncommon in the United States, people who were willing to fight MACUSA over their own radical politics. One group based in Michigan was fighting for the right to hunt werewolves, and perhaps actively hunting them outside of their territories within the national parks of the United States. Other groups whose objectives ran counter to the isolationist policies of MACUSA such as one group about fifty years ago who had run off to Europe to join the fight against Grindelwald and another who was offering aid to a small nation in South America whom Magical America companies were stripping for resources.

I did not think Albus Dumbledore, a man who had openly preached messages of tolerance throughout the world and denounced Dark Wizards as an antithesis of wizardkind, was someone who would would start a group focused on violence and government overthrow, but to do a job that the Ministry was so clearly ignoring, yes. After all, he had already fought Voldemort once in the last six months or so. Even the most powerful wizard in the world does not end up in a supposed Dark Lord's vicinity without insider knowledge or connections of some sort.

"What I'm trying to ask is… has my brother joined your people's fight against Voldemort?"

Albus Dumbledore smiled at me, it was a smile that was warm and paternal but there were layers of the man behind it that glimmered in his eyes. A seriousness that reminded me that I was speaking to one of the most powerful wizards alive, that power prickled under his skin in a way I would never understand. No one knew I was here. Fudge was smart enough to bring backup, I came here alone, no one knew I was here, begging for help from a man who was essentially persona non grata with the Ministry of Magic.

"What makes you believe I have people?"

My spine straightened, a calm fire of confidence fell upon me. Nurturing me forward through my foolish words.

"Why wouldn't you? You fought Grindelwald, this would not be your first war and merely defeating a single dark wizard would not ensure a fickle society's respect, you'd have to move like a politician and you were offered the Minister's position multiple times and refused every chance. People at least respect you and a sizable portion trust your judgment. Even powerful wizards do not move against or beneath the views of established government structures without allies behind them, because you would need allies or people you trust in the aftermath of a coup, an inner circle of your own to give you information because even you can't be everywhere at once."

There was no change in the old warlock's expression, but some part of me knew I may have said too much.

"What makes you think I am really here Miss Graves?" Then I heard something unexpected.

A chuckle. A very low noise that made me believe I imagined it for a moment.

"Please call me, Audrey."

"Then in that case, you may call me Albus, you were never a student here and it seems odd to continue the formality in this meeting that will have never happened."

"That would be fine."

He smiled at me and it seemed that the last of the political tension had melted away. He was right. When I left this office, this meeting would have never occurred. It would be a secret between two people who would likely never see each other again. For the rest of this time, we were something akin to equal, well, as close as the threads of destiny and politics would allow.

"Albus," I started again, "I must find Alex, I'm afraid he's been entangled with forces beyond him. Even if it's just a confirmation that he is alive then I will leave it be after I see him with my own eyes. Five years he's not seen or spoken to me, and I refuse to let him storming out the door be my last memory of him. I can trade you information in exchange, about the Ministry of Magic and I can provide you connections to the MACUSA embassy or even to the President of MACUSA himself."

He looked at me with interest and I knew I was too far to turn back, though some part of me felt he knew before this meeting ever took place.

"My father is the MACUSA president, I know every member of his administration and my grandfather is a retired Head Auror with connections. I am estranged from my family, but I'm certain that any letters I send will be read and the offers I make you do not have to be above board."

It felt gross, using my family's status and accomplishments this way, but I needed to put this on the table. If I wanted honesty. If I wanted help. I had to offer something of equal value to to the information I wanted.

And I loved my brother enough to make myself uncomfortable.

"Graves… That is a familiar name to me."

"My great-uncle was murdered by Grindelwald, that might be why."

Albus nodded slowly, "I'm familiar with the story. A terrible tragedy."

"Grandpa Atticus says the same."

He examined me thoughtfully, "What do you believe your brother has gotten involved in?"

"I'm afraid that…" The words burned like fire in my chest. I had to voice them. Cowardice was not a virtue. "My brother has a… habit of infiltrating radical antigovernment groups and reporting on them from the inside for whatever paper he's working for at the moment. I've been told he's done the same to your Death Eaters last year. He clearly believed you and Potter to some extent."

The intensity from Albus Dumbledore was not just from his face and countenance, but the very air around us crackled with it.

"It's why I don't think he's a Death Eater himself. Alex cares deeply for other people, he's righteous and desires a just world and he would never get that by joining Voldemort."

"Your brother is very brave and very foolish."

"I know."

"But he is lucky to have a sister like you."

"Thank you."

Next, I spoke of Thalia, the woman my brother was involved with, stating that I knew nothing about her except for a first name. That if I could find Thalia, I could find at the very least one of the final missing pieces to my brother. When I spoke of her, I realized my brother may have truly found his equal or his better in elusive natures.

"I know nothing about this Thalia woman, I know she cares for my brother, or I like to think she does. Alex can be hard to love at times."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly, deep in thought. "I know some people who I can have look into this for you."

"I can write those letters tonight!"

"There is no need." He smiled warmly. "The pleasure of your company and the knowledge of your courageous quest is enough."

It couldn't be! I was not interesting enough to entertain the greatest wizard of the modern age. I was not a brave knight on a quest. I was just Audrey.

He seemed to read my expression, and his eyes softened. "We often do not see the the most exceptional aspects of who we are until others bring them to our attention. Love is a great gift, the most powerful magic in the world, it allows us to accomplish impossible feats, such as cross continents on faith alone. I believe the love you feel for your brother will help you find him and helping you do so is the least I can do after hearing your story."

A thought came to me, this man offered me help. He turned down my offer to write letters to my father on his behalf. I had to have something for whatever he was doing!

"Thank you, but I cannot leave you without an equal kindness in turn. My cousin is an Auror for the MACUSA Embassy and the head diplomat is a mentor of mine. Embassies have a little more freedom to dilute and distribute intelligence as needed and arrange meetings outside of the Minister's purview." I scribbled down the codes to have letters reach Elihu and Quincy at the Embassy Office and the fake name to use to inform the recipients that the codes and information to the Embassy were given to a trusted person and slid it across his desk. "Quincy is open to anything if it means he can do his job better as the Ministry is not being transparent about this situation and arresting people without trials. Elihu is fair minded and will hear you out if you ever believe this path to be a prudent one."

Albus took the paper and read it quickly before putting it in a drawer, seeming to accept my offer and willing to give it some thought.

"Thank you, I will consider this. Though, I think you should see the barman at the Hogs Head pub next week, I recommend you ask to try the wine from 1980, really a fantastic year." He gave me a wink before rising to his feet. I understood what he meant, the barman Aberforth was one of his associates. Albus Dumbledore had shown me real trust in giving me one of his connections should I ever have need of it. "Now, I'm afraid I have school related matters to attend too, but should you need anything all please do not hesitate to reach out."

"Thank you for all your help." I bobbed my head politely as he passed me the jar of floo power on the mantle. "I hope everything turns out the way you want it too."

The smile he gave me was a tired one. "We all have such hopes in times such as these."

Oo0Oo0

October 25, 1996

A week later, I did what I was bid by Dumbledore, finding myself at the Hogs Head pub sitting at the bar as Aberforth slide me an envelope with my name on it along with a dirty glass of wine from 1980 with a judgmental stare before returning to polishing a glass that seemed to not get clean despite the efforts of the elderly barman. I reached down to scratch around the horns of his goat with a wince as I irritated some of the bruises I had received from Lucinda's latest dueling lesson.

The envelope was a quality one, the paper was thick and the ink was smooth on the page where my name rested in an elegant script that I did not recognize. I knew this letter was not from Alex, but perhaps…

I took a deep breath as I slid my finger under the fold to open the envelope. The letter slid out with a noise I could hear in the silence of the sketchy bar. I took a sip of wine to steady my nerves. It really was delicious!

Miss Graves,

I wish to extend to you an invitation to my home at 11 a.m. next Saturday at Sundown Cottage for lunch.

We have much to discuss with regards to your brother.

-A Friend

I did not need the mockery of a final line to tell me this letter was from Thalia.

All of the answers I sought now rested in my shaking hands.

My search for Alex may finally be coming to an end, and with any luck, everything would be okay again.

It just had to be.

Chapter Text

November 2, 1996

The cottage was small, it was covered in white stone and had beautiful gardens along the path that led to the cottage and encircled by a thick grove of forest. It was pretty! Probably one of the loveliest country cottages I had ever seen. I stopped periodically along the path to examine the plants to see if there were any I recognized. 

Most of these gardens appeared to be No-Maj plants that were holding out longer than expected for the change in weather. Thalia, if that was who I was meeting, seemed to be a very gifted herbologist. I wondered if she was a herbalist as well? Someone who kept No-Maj flowers in such health must provide plants to apothecaries for their potions.

A cold chill moved through my bones as the sound of dogs barking from inside of the house brought me out of my wondering. Was she a dog owner? It sounded like more than one. I prepared myself for the onslaught of barking and braced myself to be jumped on as I stepped up to the door of the cottage.

This was it. I had waited for this meeting. I had fought for it. This would change my life. I would either have a lead on my brother, or I was functionally back to square one.

I took a deep breath.

Everything would be fine.

If I could believe that for a few more minutes then anything that could come from this meeting stood less of a chance of breaking my heart again.

I knocked on the door and was greeted by an ever louder chorus of barking.

"Back Atlas! Down Monty!"

The woman who opened the door was not what I expected. She was short, maybe five three, with her blonde hair in a chin length bob and a bit pudgy in a way that made her look soft and approachable aside from the bags under her eyes. This woman looked like she had struggled to sleep for at least the last decade. Though, the thing that really caught my attention was the cane she was leaning on to support herself. It seemed to be made of oak and I could see the faint shape of a dog's head on the handle.

She adjusted her glasses and heaved a sigh as she looked me over with the same discernment I had given her. 

“What do you want?”

“Are you Thalia?”

“Depends,” She took her weight off her cane by leaning against the doorframe instead as she rested the hook in the crook of her arm, “who's asking?”

“I’m Audrey Graves, Alex’s sister. I believe you sent me a letter last week.”

"I did." Thalia nodded, her eyes drifting over me again, her brown eyes seemingly filing every aspect of me away as she blocked a very large white dog with her foot. “I'm Thalia Rannulf. What did Alex and Jack fight about the last time they were together?”

“Valencia Talbot’s claims of assault. What kind of bird does Alex’s favorite quill come from?”

“Gyrfalcon, the king of falcons.” Thalia gave me a slight smile and moved out of the doorway to allow me inside. “Come in. Mind the dogs. The white slobbery one is Atlas, Monty’s the lover boy. They don't bite and they love attention."

I was immediately greeted by cold snouts as Atlas and Monty shoved their noses into my hands with loud sniffs. Atlas was a large white dog with a beautiful, if slightly dirty coat who was drooling in pleasure at the attention I was giving his ears. The other was a large Irish Wolfhound with a scruffy gray coat and gentle eyes who was pressing himself against my upper thigh until I scratched his chin and cooed at him. 

I pet the dogs for a few moments before following the path Thalia had taken into the kitchen where she was checking on something inside the oven. 

"This will be another hour," she tapped her cane on the floor as two bottles of butterbeer came out of the cabinet. "Want some ice?"

"No thank you." I caught both of the bottles to carry them into the living room with Thalia hobbling behind me. I placed the bottles on the corner table by the couch as Thalia sat down in a large recliner.

The house was peaceful, it matched every vision I had of a country home with the small cozy space and the fluffy carpets and the dogs who were laying by the fireplace. The walls were a light cream and the carpet was white, presumably to help hide the shedding I was sure the big white dog did on a regular basis. I let my gaze drift towards a large red curtain that seemed oddly placed against the wall near the hallway. Perhaps it was an oddly placed window. I thought no more about it as I took in the rest of the house. 

This was nice. I had always liked the idea of living out in the country some day. Away from the hustle of the city, which I enjoyed in a youthful fashion but I knew I would want to leave at some point. It seemed wise to put some physical distance between my home and the heart of politics. When the war ended, there would be a return to focus on scandal and I had no doubts about Jack Graves coming into the world stage with intentions that he believed to be good and just, to build alliances with Scrimgeour or whoever succeeded him. I thought Scrimgeour would not be able to handle the transfer to peacetime, there was too much fight and political skullduggery in him. In polite terms, the man was a bulldog who had quickly grown comfortable with power.

My gaze was drawn towards the marble mantle where an array of pictures sat to look upon the room. I stepped forward, mindful of the dogs and their wagging tails to get a closer look. 

I had not seen a picture of my brother in years, but I knew who I was looking at without having to ask.

Alex wore a careless smile as he put his arm around Thalia’s shoulders. His hair was white at the temples and the rest was graying quickly with hidden strands of silver throughout. It aged him by ten years at least, making him look a mature thirty-eight instead of the twenty-eight that he would be now. It also made him look even more remarkably like our father. Alex's hair had been ink black the last time I had seen him and the visible passage of time on my brother made my chest hurt. His eyes were the same gray that I remembered, but they were so much warmer and happier in this picture. 

I had no memory of seeing Alex smile like this after our mother died. 

I barely remembered him smiling at all to be perfectly honest, he was such a serious personality, especially at the end of his time at Byrgen House when he was investigating Valencia's claims, perhaps knowing that he was going to be metaphorically burning everything down in the process.

"That picture is from about two years ago." Thalia said from her chair. "I think he had just been asked to interview Dumbledore before the Triwizard Tournament."

I turned to look at Thalia, who was cleaning her glasses with the edge of her shirt. I was having a hard time placing her age. She had a youthful, round face that seemed immune to aging in some ways. 

"Are you working with Dumbledore?"

Thalia shrugged, "Yes and no." She tapped her bum leg with an idle smile. "I'm a herbalist by trade, and sometimes I cross paths with interesting people who need the kind of help that needs to be kept quiet."

"So you're a neutral, nonthreatening party for anyone who comes to your door?"

"Not everyone. I have things I want done, but I'm afraid what I want won't be possible until certain individuals are dead." She spoke casually, with an airiness that spoke of an apathy to those individuals' lives. If I didn't understand the impulse, I would have been frightened. "Though my contact with Dumbledore is a wet blanket who has lost all faith in any sort of change."

I wasn't going to touch the wet blanket comment, I didn't want to know about whatever Dumbledore was up to, it seemed safer for me to not get involved anymore then necessary. 

"What is it you want done?"

"I think medicine should be freely available without conditions attached, and that means researching alternatives which can get me into trouble with the wrong sort of authorities."

I was willing to bet it was painkillers, judging by the shape she was in.

"Is my brother here?"

She shook her head and my stomach dropped. "He's investigating Death Eaters, I haven't seen him for a few months." She paused. "I don't want to put him in more danger than he's already in."

"But you have seen him!"

"He's alive if that's what you're asking."

"When are you going to see him again?"

She looked me up and down slowly, like she was taking account of my person in excruciating detail. From my kitten heel shoes and casual deep blue robes and the short white cloak that was draped over my shoulders. I probably looked every bit the pretentious bureaucrat and I don't think that impressed Thalia.

"It's… been a long time since I've seen him. Six years. Six years I've waited and wondered and this picture is the closest I've been to him! Now he's off playing with the Death Eater's where one little mistake is going to turn him into a political pawn against MACUSA or our father! This has the potential to end in a manner far worse than anything else he has done!"

Thalia looked at me much like a queen on her throne. The imperious tilt of her chin and the hard look in her eyes reminding me I was in her domain and she could remove me at any point.

"Alex was right, you are a very political creature. A goody two shoes who wanted her daddy's approval and wasted herself away to get it. Are you here for yourself or your father, Audrey? Because from the way you talk I think it's the former."

My cheeks burned in embarrassment and a level of rage I had never felt before. My fight with my father was a different beast then the one brewing inside me now.

"I'm not here for my father-"

There was a loud caterwauling that shook the cottage and made me cover my ears in surprise. Thalia leapt to her feet, wincing as she grabbed her cane to steady herself. She hobbled towards me, her eyes serious and glimmering with fear. She moved past me and the dogs, who seemed to be unusually quiet for such a racket, as if they knew something I did not.

Thalia threw aside the large red curtain that I had observed coming into the house to reveal a reinforced door of thick wood and iron and flung it open, whistling at the dogs who quickly descended the stairs. She tapped the floor with her cane and the picture of Alex from the mantle flew into my hands.

"Get down there, stay there and stay quiet until I come for you!"

"Wha-?" Was all I was able to reply as the wailing grew louder and Thalia tapped the floor again to raise me into the air and through the iron door into the darkness that lay below. 

As my feet touched the ground the door slammed shut with a bang, leaving the dogs and I in darkness.

Lumos!

The tip of my wand lit as I took in the room around me. It was dark, the floor and the walls were stone and dirt and there was a musky smell of dog in the air. I pointed the light towards the stairs, there were five steps. I'd have to remember that. Was this a cellar maybe? But where were the shelves and pantry supplies?

Was this some kind of prison?

There were claw marks on the floor. They were large and deep. As if something was trying to dig a way out of this room.

Atlas put his head under my arm, his gaze at the door at the top of the stairs. 

I took a deep breath.

I needed to know what was going on. Thalia had clearly been scared of something. I was not going to be unprepared and trapped underground to wait for whatever was coming.

I crept up the stairs, walking up the edge of the steps to lower the risk of stair creaking and pressed my ear against the door. 

There was nothing.

The door was too thick or she had placed a silencing spell on the door or on the room itself.

There had to be something I could use. I was a top student at Ilvermorny for crying out loud! Dying in a basement would be embarrassing for my alma mater. 

Wait… silencing spells… good silencing spells needed to be concentrated on every part of the room. The part most people forgot when casting on a door were keyholes or the underside of the door. This door had no keyhole.

Fantastic! 

I laid down on the stairs awkwardly to press my ear against the bottom of the door. There was a faint noise of voices. 

I leaned back to cast a hearing charm on my ear, wincing as the sound of my own heartbeat became audible to my own hearing. I laid down again and closed my eyes to focus on what was being said in the other room.

"This place smells." The voice was deep, male and snarling. 

"Yeah, I'm a herbalist. It comes with the job."

There was a pause and a deep sniff. "You've had company?" 

"Left before you got here. Annoying little sales girl but she had a rare plant I wanted for my business."

There was a grunt of affirmation.

"What do you want, Greyback?"

What the fuck?

"Nothing."

"You always want something." Thalia's voice was cool, “Last month it was information on a patient and you tried to threaten me when you didn’t get it. I don’t have to keep your pack healthy, I can leave at anytime.” 

There was a furious snarl that shook my bones. “Your services are needed by our master.”

Thalia gave a snort of disbelief. “Services? I’m a herbalist, not a Healer. If your master needs a good medic, perhaps he should look at Saint Mungo’s. Oh, wait, you bit a Healer’s daughter and now the Healers have made themselves unplottable so you can’t find them. I was surprised, I thought nine was a little old for you.”

Something shattered on the floor and an animalistic laugh shook me to my bones. “Tender morsel she was.”

I wanted to puke. 

“I heard Dragonpox is spreading among your younger recruits.” Thalia’s voice was steady and unshaken by Greyback’s words and seeming assault on her personal possessions. “You can’t have an army of lycanthropes if they die of preventable illnesses. All that wasted effort to bring them into the fold. Waste of a good bite and I know how much you hate that.”

There was a faint scratching of a quill on parchment.

“I’ll come by tomorrow morning with supplies, I’ll also need an escort. Lupin or Hemming would be fine, they’re smart enough not to eat anything I give them.”

I moved away from the door, quietly sliding down the stairs to hide in the darkness. I did not want to hear anymore about this. It made me sick. It made me scared.

Oo0Oo0

I did not know how much longer I sat in that dark room, alone with my orb of light, the dogs and my thoughts as I struggled to rationalize what I had heard and all of the implications therein. My brother had taken up with a werewolf. A werewolf with sympathies for others of her kind. Who knew and crossed paths with the most dangerous and savage werewolf in Magical Britain. 

I needed a drink.

Thalia opened the door, letting light cut through the darkness like a knife and I moved out into the living room quickly, wanting the space to run away and not be trapped in a cellar. The dogs followed behind me and made their way to the water bowl in the kitchen.

“You’re a-a werewolf!” I pressed my back against the wall, one hand resting on my wand as Thalia advanced towards me with her gleaming, predatory gaze. I could have sworn there was a ring of yellow around the iris. 

Thalia rolled her eyes, “Relax. Unless there’s hair growing out of my ears I’m not dangerous.”

“Explain that then!” I pointed back at the iron door, the dents and scratches at the bottom edge of the door and the floor beneath it finally becoming noticeable to me. 

“That’s the cellar. It’s where I go if I don’t have wolfsbane potion.” Thalia tapped her cane on the floor to summon a plate of something from the kitchen into her hands. "It's not what I usually show my guests."

She was so casual about it. Was she going to bite me? I did not know anything about the effects of being bitten by a werewolf in an untransformed state. They said that was something Fenrir Greyback favored these days, that he had developed a taste for human flesh. 

I inched towards the door. I did not want to become part of a cannibalism barbecue. There was not enough meat on my bones to be appetizing, I was destined to starve in some capacity be it survival situations or just my own home from my poor cooking. 

“Ladyfingers?”

“GAH!”

Thalia put the cookies she had been offering me on the couch side table with a steady, unwavering glare in my direction. 

“Would you calm down if I told you I was a vegetarian?”

I shook my head, my eyes wide. Because that’s akin to what serial killers tell their victims to get them into their territory. 

"You're right, I lied. I'm not a vegetarian but I'm certainly not a cannibal." 

I would have laughed if my nerves were not so frayed.

“I was bitten as a child, the werewolf who bit me sunk his teeth so deeply into my leg that when he shook me it severed muscle and left me with a limp. If my father was not a Healer I would have died or lost my leg."

I nodded as Thalia half sat, half collapsed into a recliner that seemed to swallow her. I had to sit down, my knees were struggling to hold me upright and I went to sit on my original spot on the couch and reached for a cookie as my manners took control while my mind continued to spiral and struggle to focus.

“How did you meet my brother?” I broke the cookie in half to make sure that there were no actual lady fingers inside of it before taking a bite.

“He was in Germany interviewing a werewolf pack. I was visiting a cousin for potions supplies. I met Alex when he asked to talk to me about the politics of the wolfsbane potion. The ingredients are… very expensive.” She took a sip of butterbeer. “And heavily regulated by the Ministry of Magic so they can watch us.” 

Something clicked into place in my mind. A herbalist and potioneer, not an apothecary. 

“You’re making illegal wolfsbane potion.”

“Not quite,” She clapped slowly with a sarcastic little smile. “Good guess though.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“I’m making a more accessible wolfsbane potion. Something with less expensive ingredients that can be used by more of the afflicted. Belby gave us a good start, I’m just finishing the work.”

That was incredible.

“Have you had any success?”

She shook her head. “I’m testing it on myself. I’ve become more clear headed when I’m shifted, but that could just be because I’ve made peace with the wolf. I’ve spoken to others with the affliction and the ones who reject and hate their wolf and think themselves as irredeemable monsters struggle with it.” She shrugged. “A disease like this is almost as much about mental health as it is medication, but people can’t deal with their mental state until they feel better physically.” 

"It's like having a long term illness."

"Exactly, a person can have real highs and lows when they're engaged in long-term care, but the days where they feel good can help build resilience for the bad days. It becomes an emotional well to draw on." She smiled grimly, "But for werewolves we spend a week feeling the cycle of the moon, transform when it's full and spend the days afterwards trying to regain our strength so we can engage with normal life. Well, as much normal life as society allows us. We're not allowed to feel as if we are human during those weeks where the moon isn't speaking to our blood. We can't hold jobs, and most of us have retreated to Greyback's pack out of a need for community and survival. Basically forced to the arms of a monster who turned most of us. Isn't that ironic?"

I looked around the cottage. "But not you?"

"No. Not me. I had other opportunities. My father was a skilled Healer, my mother was a potioneer who discovered a new, more efficient potion cure for magical allergies, she put my name on the paper also and I get enough money from it to help keep up with my living expenses. My brother in Germany helps fund my research with his business. My financial independence is unusual for a werewolf and Greyback doesn't like my being out of his reach to control, but I'm too useful for him to mess with too much. He can't have the werewolf army he wants if they die of treatable illnesses. So he leaves me alone until he wants to come and throw his weight around to remind me where my allegiance belongs when his new world order comes to be."

"Do you agree with him? Greyback I mean."

Thalia paused and took a deep breath. "Yes and no. We're trapped in a cycle of hate and poverty, I agree with his rambling in that regard. There needs to be change, but…" She was quiet for a minute. "Greyback is not the leader we need to bring this change. We must reform society, not instill more fear than they already possess, we have to be seen as people before anything else. Reform comes with radical shifts, but Greyback needs to die before any of that can be done."

There was a hardness in Thalia's expression that was frightening. Something wolfish and feral that brought a new level of ferocity to the surface.

"I've considered poisoning him, but he never seems to get sick and I doubt he would come to me if he were. He doesn't trust me that much and admitting that kind of weakness to me would only build on the respect I have already built with the pack."

I nodded quietly, "I take it he doesn't know about your wolfsbane experiments?"

"No, and it's best that way."

I took the opportunity to change the topic to happier things, ignoring this fascinating political chessboard Thalia had presented to me.

"How long have you been with my brother?"

"Alex and I have been together for about four years. He talks a lot about things he doesn't understand but his heart's in the right place. It makes him dumb."

"Has he wanted to come back to the family at all?"

Thalia looked at me as if I were an idiot. "Would you?"

I shook my head. 

Thalia sighed and scratched Monty's ears. "He thought about it, he talked to me about it. He wanted to see you specifically, Alex says you're a bit too much like Jack, but you can be reasoned with. The reason he didn't reach out before going to investigate the Death Eaters was because there were already rumors about your father’s presidential run. He didn't want to risk putting me under that scrutiny, create a circus for the press and all of that." She paused and looked at me. "I am well aware that I'm not any kind of beautiful woman, the press and the public would have a field day with that, but if they looked at my background and discovered what I was. I would not have protection or privacy. I don't think the world would forgive a pretty girl for being a monster, but I would give them a bevy of other flaws to poke and prod at."

The more I looked at Thalia, the clearer it became why Alex liked her so much. She was independent and clear-eyed. She had her life as Alex had his. They both understood the power of the press to call people to arms and tear people down for profit. There was a courage in Thalia, a kind of leadership quality that I was struggling to place but I knew each word she spoke dripped with conviction. 

“Plus, the way you Americans treat werewolves is disgusting.” Thalia rolled her eyes, “I saw that article with your father.”

My face flushed with embarrassment.  

She waved her cane through the air and a folder came flying out of a room in the back of the house and landed next to me on the couch with a muffled thump.  

“You should read these if you have the time. I’ve been keeping up with that fuss in the states.”

“I’d love to.”

“Good. If you do that, I’ll take you with me to meet Alex.”

I almost jumped off the sofa to hug her. “Really!”

Thalia nodded, “We meet every few months to make sure we’re still alive.”

“When?”

Thalia sucked in air through her teeth. “January. I’m sorry. We’re both busy through the holidays and the week before and after a full moon are difficult for me.”

This was it. It was the answer I wanted in some form or fashion and I would be a fool to reject it. Alex loved this woman and trusted her more than anyone else in his life, I would have to do the same if I wanted to see him again.

"I've waited this long, another two months is nothing."

Chapter Text

November 4, 1996

Werewolf Activism in Yellowstone- Thirty Years in the Making

President Jack Graves is already proving himself more than his persona of standard politician and a more wildcard president than MACUSA has seen since the Civil War. He is insistent on leading the Aurors and being on the ground for the latest werewolf uprising in Yellowstone National Park, led by noted werewolf rights activist Rudina Lupe and Sassaba Lowella of the Great Smoky Mountains, both leaders of their respective werewolf packs who are continuing to fight MACUSA as the government begins to push the the Yellowstone pack back into smaller territories within the national park due to No-Majs coming closer to these remote, isolated places within them.

Lowella claimed that this action has made MACUSA no better than the colonizers of the Native American tribes. That the packs would not have these problems if MACUSA provided wolfsbane potion to allow werewolves to join wix society.

Lupe added that merely pushing the packs out of sight and mind are only removing resources from a group that gets no help from MACUSA, asking why werewolves of America should follow the rule of law for a world they are not allowed to be part of before proclaiming her thirty strong pack is willing to fight for the scraps MACUSA gave them thirty years ago and more aid is coming from the remaining packs.

Wolfsbane potion is covered by two of the three nationwide health insurance companies, Arcane and Magik, the holdout being Astratek. The providing of wolfsbane potion and other medications through these health insurance companies can only be provided through a full-time job, werewolves live apart from magical society in their packs and often those who attempt to live among society are unable to hold the full time, forty hour a week position necessary to obtain insurance through an employer.

The picture at the bottom of the article showed a picture of Rudina Lupe, a strong looking woman with olive colored skin and curly dark hair, she looked poised and confident at her pack’s tactics holding the line for so long.

Sassaba Lowella was in another picture next to Lupe. Lowella was Native American, high cheekbones, straight dark hair and fierce almond eyes. She was very striking and was looking at the camera directly, not caring that the world would see her face and what she was.  

I leaned against my desk and continued to read the last article Thalia had given me. It had taken me some time to start, my brother dating and clearly having deep feelings for a werewolf was a lot to wrap my head around, but I knew it had to be done. Alex saw something in Thalia and I sincerely believed it was her conviction and passion for a better world.   

The articles Thalia gave me were from an underground newspaper I had never heard of that I presumed Alex subscribed her too. It had an in depth interview with the leader of the Yellowstone Werewolf Pack, Rudina Lupe, who actively discussed the lives of the pack in Yellowstone. That they lived off the land, taking advantage of the large expanse of land that made up the national park, but were preyed upon by the magical creatures we had confined to the region as well. That children were rarely born into the community, werewolf mothers had a hard time carrying pregnancies to term and their children often ended up infected with the condition as well. Rudina Lupe had a list of things she wanted for the werewolf packs of Magical America, but she needed wolfsbane first and foremost to help remove the stigma and ensure the health of the werewolves of the United States. She sounded a lot like Thalia. 

I finished the article and put it in my purse. I had not told Lucinda about what Thalia was, that could wait for a time, with the gala coming up there was enough going on in Lucinda’s life and finding out her great nephew was in a very serious relationship with a werewolf would send her screaming over the edge. I can’t manage Lucinda until I sort my own feelings on the matter and my feelings were very complicated. 

With a sigh, I pulled out my copy of the Daily Prophet to get up to speed on local politics, all of it was doom and gloom these days. Today it was about the kidnapping of an outspoken journalist who had written an article about how Britain’s werewolf issue could be better handled by taking a page out of MACUSA’s book and confining them to places outside of society. I hoped that he was alive, but I had my doubts. After meeting Thalia, I was not too sure what to think about the werewolf issue, but I knew there were not many werewolves like Thalia in the world. 

Oo0Oo0

November 12, 1996

The Minister’s Office had been slightly redone since he assumed the position. Scrimgeour had put in a nice new rug of red with white designs that was big enough to fit under his desk, his leather chair and his guest chair if he had to have an office visitor. Normally it was Percy when the two had private management matters to handle such as Scrimgeour wanting to rant over a recent meeting or recent encounter with Dumbledore, who was refusing to cooperate with the Ministry on matters of political image.

I could not say I blamed him in the slightest.

But I would keep that thought to myself.

I sat down in the hard leather chair across from the Minister, who had my file on his desk and a file about previous dealings with MACUSA. It was easy to be silent, to take in what was around me to prepare for whatever was coming, I knew it was not beneficial to me in any regard.

“Audrey.”

“You wanted to see me Minister?” 

“Yes,” he leaned back in his chair and pushed the MACUSA folder towards me. “I was hoping you could affirm this information for me?”

I opened the file slowly, it was a collection of information on Jack Graves and the high ranking members of his administration. The general information a foreign government needed to know for international dealings. I turned the page to find a full page on Elihu, most of it notes on previous conflicts due to his sarcastic turns of phrase in the heat of the moment. 

I was not sure why he was asking for my opinion. I knew most of these officials because they came to parties at the Byrgen House and would come by the house to talk about politics with my father while I was growing up. The information was as accurate as a foreign government needed it to be. Perhaps he was asking for my opinion because he did not trust Elihu to be entirely honest. It would be understandable, lawyers were not trusted in any nation, the reputation for skullduggery crossed all nations. Lawyer jokes were the greatest icebreaker in politics. 

“This seems accurate,” I kept my voice low. “I can’t say I know Martinez well enough to confirm his opinion on the wand core crisis, but the avacado story is true.”

“That’s fine. I was not sure Weathers was telling the truth about anything of importance,” Scrimgeour nodded sagely, adjusting his glasses.“With President Graves arriving in a few weeks for the Ministry Gala, I would like for you to attend and make introductions.” He slid an invitation across the desk to my hands. It was odd to receive and invitation to a party held in my own great-aunt’s home. I had expected this. Scrimgeour had implied as much during our last discussion about my father a few months ago. “The rest of the office will receive theirs tomorrow.” 

"I'm afraid I have plans with a cousin that evening and won’t be able to attend.”

The lie flew from my lips as if it were escaping a cage and a dull panic grabbed my insides and refused to let go.

"I'm sure your cousin will understand if you tell them the Minister has made a personal request."

"Then I am afraid I must refuse the invitation."

"For what possible reason?"

"I have other plans that I do not have to discuss with you, or I simply have no wish to go. Take your pick."

Scrimgeour’s expression darkened. I did not move, I did not flinch. In that moment he reminded me of my father and I knew he would never succeed in intimating me. I was one of the few people in the world who would refuse such an invitation from a world leader for I had no interest in power or connections, I had my own if I so desired them. 

We stared at one another in a stoney silence. 

"I know for a fact that you and Weathers have very different ideas about how this war is going. You will not get to use me as a bargaining chip to make one of your oldest, most powerful allies think that everything is being handled with the Voldemort-" I watched his hand clench so hard the knuckles turned white- "situation. Jack will never believe it and you will lose a valuable ally for your pride and deceit."

The Minister of Magic and I stared at each other for a moment of intense silence. He looked like he wanted to leap across the desk and wring my neck like a lion would to an antelope on the savanna. I thought about dark holes snakes liked to hide in and imagined how comfortable that would be at this moment.  

"I'd like to request a transfer."

"Denied."

"Then I'll quit."

"I'll tell everyone that you are Jack Graves' daughter."

I got angry and overplayed my hand. My mistake.

He smiled a lazy, catlike smile before he continued. "I've done a lot of research, Miss Graves. You'll never have a moment's peace from the press or people who want to use you to get access to your father."

He would also put a target on my back for more nefarious schemes. I lived alone. I was a woman living alone. That son of a bitch!

“You have a choice to make, you can deal with everybody who would use you for access to the upper echelons of power for the rest of your time in Britain, or you can behave like a good First Daughter for one night and help ensure that we can send a message to any spies and hopeful interlopers about foreign aid. Not that we need it, but the idea would be enough to deter bad actors within the Ministry.” 

My expression felt like a stern mixture of Lucinda and Jack Graves at their most sincerely shocked and enraged. I was sure Jack Graves being here would send enough of that message, but having me there to be pleasant with him would incite Jack to play along and say the right things to make sure I was not kidnapped and murdered on foreign soil. 

If I take part in this, I’m screwed both ways. 

“May I ask a question, Minister?”

“Of course.”

“This seems an informal introduction, the embassy would normally handle the intricacies of introductions for high ranking officials under more… pomp and circumstance. For the history books and all of that. ”

“You have a lot to learn about the affairs of national leaders if you think their first meetings are in front of the cameras.”

“I suppose I do. How silly of me.”

I would have to ask Elihu about some of this, I may swing by the embassy after work tomorrow to do just that. 

Scrimgeour smiled, “I imagine you already know the party is a formal affair. I expect you to look nice."

I wanted to kill him.

"Of course, Minister."

I rose from my chair to depart the room, thoughts of murder and politics on my mind. If Scrimgeour wanted to play games, fine! I could play games too. I was under no vow, no magic bound me to this agreement and Scrimgeour was about to find out that I was not a malleable yes man like Percy. 

The Ainsley family was extinct in the male line, but the women were still holding onto everything they had ever gotten over the generations. Power, pride and familial legacy. If Lucinda was anything to go by, Ainsleys were very spiteful and had very long memories. I was going to have to dig into all of that to get through this event and come out with even a hint of a victory and I had no idea how I was going to accomplish that.

Oo0Oo0

My biweekly beatings from Lucinda were proceeding on schedule. This time she decided to enchant a sallow tree to snatch me into its branches and allow me to dangle in the air for several moments while she laughed from somewhere beneath me.

I got the impression that our little dueling lessons were stress relief for her. She divided the rest of her time between writing letters to foreign friends to inquire about Alex along with other matters and the party where she was making gleeful arrangements to make my father as uncomfortable as possible.

The impulse was one I understood very well, but the long term planning was the result of a decade of resentment on Lucinda's part. She had shown me pictures of a reception she had thrown for my parents the first time they visited Thornell after their wedding and remarked on all the little decorations that she was going to reuse for this party because they were white and matched the elegant, snowy theme she wanted.

I did not know if Lucinda was a packrat or just sentimental. 

"Do you want some help?" Lucinda asked from somewhere below me, her voice tinged with laughter.

"Yes," I was currently upside down in midair, of course I wanted help.

"Did you learn anything?"

"Don't drop my guard?"

"You don't sound sure."

"Use what's around me to my advantage."

"Better."

I felt myself slowly levitate out of the tree and towards the ground and onto the soft grass below. I did not feel my dueling was getting any better, though Lucinda claimed otherwise.

Tavish had proudly informed me after one of my previous lessons with Lucinda that she had been a Hogwarts dueling club captain while I nursed my bruises. I was beginning to understand why I was having trouble beating Lucinda for her offer of Occlumency lessons, she was just that good. So far, she had buried me up to my shoulders in the ground, put me on the roof of Thornell, cornered me in the garden where Tavish kept a Devil's Snare for some reason and turned me into a mink. 

Touching the ground was a welcome relief for my nerves, I was content to sit for a moment even though it was cold and frost still covered the ground. I brushed myself off when I got to my feet to meet Lucinda's eyes as she adjusted her glasses to better examine me with her hawkish expression, her long cloak caught the gentle breeze to make her look more ominous and vaguely sinister.

And she thought I looked like a crow when I first arrived at her home. She bore more of a resemblance now with her dark cloak billowing in contrast against the cold gray sky. 

Lucinda smiled at me and motioned me into the house. Wordlessly stating that we were finished for the day.

I tapped my shoulders and hips, a spell on my thoughts to clean my clothes before I stepped into the house. I stomped the dirt and mud off my shoes on the mat by the door.

"You're getting better. That boiling curse missed me by an inch."

"Sorry about-"

"Don't apologize. Have you been reading those books I gave you about Occlumency?"

"Yes, I finished them last week. I thought the idea of constructing a kind of house to store your thoughts was an interesting one."

"Isn't it?" Lucinda smiled brightly as she led me into a nearby sitting room where Tavish was examining a map of the grounds on a coffee table with a notebook and sketchbook next to him as Barry and Tinsy polished vases and knickknacks that adorned the room. “Fascinating all the ways a person can protect their mind. There are so many ways to do so effectively without having your brain ripped apart by assailants."

I had tried to follow the instructions in the book, building something in my mind to retreat to but I was struggling to know if I was doing so correctly. The book said it could be a real place, or that it could be something entirely fictional, a fantasy of an individual’s version of a perfect home or place in the world. For some reason, I was struggling to hold a vision in my mind consistently, it was always shifting like fog behind my eyes. My vision was not becoming richer and more detailed, it was becoming more clouded and cluttered with ideas and possibilities that straddled the line between fantasy and reality. I felt safe at Thornell, but it was too big to hold and I always knew my stay was a temporary one and the Byrgen House had ceased to be my home long before I actually left.

It was a vexing idea. 

I attempted to envision my apartment, but there was so little I could manipulate to defend the castle of my mind in a deceptive way. Perhaps I was not creative that way. 

In any case, I was going to have to draw on the well of my imagination to craft something that spoke to an idea of home and safety. Lucinda was a formidable witch and I wanted to impress her should I ever meet her conditions to learn Occlumency. Because even if I ever did defeat her in a duel, I doubted it would leave Lucinda impressed in any true capacity. 

“‘Lo ladies, ‘ow was da lesson?”

All I could manage in response was a groan of discomfort as a staggered to the couch and sat next to Tavish who patted me on the head with a distracted smile.

“T’at bad?”

“She put me in a tree.”

“Coulda been da roof again,” Tavish laughed quietly and passed Lucinda his sketchbook as I straightened my posture to watch her expression, curious about what Tavish had been working on.

Lucinda looked at the sketches Tavish had presented for the last section of the garden with a sinister smile, her eyes gleaming as she made tiny notes in her notebook while Barry and Tinsy looked on with inquisitive stares from next to the sitting room fireplace. 

“You’re a wonder, Tavish. It’s the most ostentatious thing you have ever come up with.”

“Wai’ ’til ya see da ice sculpture on da next page!”

Lucinda turned the page and smiled. “Oh, she’s beautiful!”

I stood to look at the sketchbook to find an elegant sketch of a fairy queen carved from ice and magic with a hauntingly calm expression. There was a note that she would be placed on the fountain in the center of the maze Tavish and the House Elves were working on. 

“She is,” I breathed. 

“Inspired by da most beautiful women I knew,” Tavish stated with his face a soft pink from the cold air or his admission. “Took forever to get the face right.”

“She's perfect! If you can do this exactly, we may save our outdoor display!"

"Ya doubt me?"

"I'll doubt everything until this party is done and that numpty leaves my home for the last time." Lucinda paused, a nasty glimmer in her eyes. "In fact, do you remember when those muggle portraits were in fashion?"

"Aye, creepy things."

"Well, I got Lucina to sit for one and I think it can go out as a display piece."

"Wait, you have a portrait of my mother?"

"Of course! I never had her enchanted to talk or move because…" Lucinda's brow furrowed. "I missed her too much, it's bad enough with Callum and he doesn't talk. I think it would look lovely in one of the main rooms."

I had a flash of concern that this portrait could cause an issue, but I pushed it aside. It was Lucinda’s house. This was her power play against my father and, quite frankly, I was too entertained to say anything about it. If she wanted to make my father as uncomfortable in her home as he was going to make her by stepping in it, then good for her. 

“Now,” Lucinda turned towards me with a smile while handing the sketchbook off to Tavish, “there’s the matter of your dress.”

Tavish stood and looked at the two of us before backing away slowly with a broad grin, “‘hat’s well beyond me. I’ll be in da back.” He pulled his hat from his pocket, slipping out the door with his sketchbook under his arm and the House Elves following behind him. 

I looked back at Lucinda who was looking me up and down with a careful eye. 

“I really don’t have to go, Auntie.”

“You said the Minister wants you there. I can’t see a way out of it.”

“I’ll have to get dragon pox then. Do you know any children?”

Lucinda raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to me to straighten my shoulders. “I’m afraid I do not know any children except you. Back straight, don’t slouch.” 

I did as she said and looked ahead, a sick feeling in my guts as the idea of seeing my father again settled upon me. My chest was tight and I felt weightless, like a stiff breeze would knock me over and take me away.  

Lucinda stopped and sighed. “I know you don’t want to see your father, but we are both backed into a corner.” She put her hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes, the wire rims of her glasses catching the light from the chandelier. “Listen, one way or another, this is something that has no choice but to pass. The only choice we have is to deal with it. I choose to do so by holding my head high and making Jack Graves as uncomfortable in my home as I am with him crossing the threshold. Your choice is going to be whether you hold your head high, confident in your decisions or if you crumble under the idea of your father as something oppressive and not a mortal idiot who can be managed.”

“But he is!” The words fell from me unbidden and strange on my tongue. The words tasted of dry wine as they departed, a taste of fear and barely acknowledged truths. “He’s the president of MACUSA. Head of one of the most magically powerful countries in the magical world and I have to play nice with him for his reputation and for my job with the Ministry! If this doesn’t go well, I’ll be out of a job and hounded by the press with a target on my back because Scrimgeour will throw me to the wolves for even an appearance of an alliance with President Graves.” 

"If this goes wrong I will help you in every way I possibly can. You need to play the Minister's game, but do it better. You know MACUSA, Scrimgeour knows it through reports and analysis, but he's so bullheaded he can't see the little pieces on the board. In that way he's very much like your father, they want to charge ahead with every certainty that they are righteous and just. Figure something out Audrey, because I have faith in you to manage this and come out the victor so he'll leave you in peace."

I nodded slowly, the knot in my chest releasing. She was right. Scrimgeour and Jack were both the same kind of person, my father would be the one more prone to fancy words and elegant lies, but Scrimgeour was like a bull in a china shop, all law and order at any cost.

If I could hold this together, my life would stay easy. Simple. Manageable. 

“Who's on the guest list?"

Lucinda paused, "Well, everyone you work with to start."

I nodded, that matched what I had been told in the office, it would solidify Scrimgeour's relationships with his immediate staff. 

"Any department heads?"

"Invitations have been sent for them already, but a few have already refused due to the war and sent their regards and apologies." She summoned a rolled up piece of parchment from her office upstairs and gave it to me to examine. "We can expect over two hundred guests, a lot of high ranking Ministry personnel, up and comers and favorites. Everyone is being carefully vetted. Meaning if someone provides enough money in donations, they'll get into my house." Lucinda's eyes rolled as I examined the list thoughtfully.

"I don't see that any have been sent to the Embassy Offices." Surely Elihu hasn't pissed Scrimgeour off that badly, it's only been a few months. "Is this party a locally focused event?"

"Traditionally yes. It's a chance for the powerful to rub elbows and talk policy in a more personal manner. Wizarding politics are very country isolated, Scrimgeour inviting your father as his first international visit is unusual. Do you think Scrimgeour would want help from MACUSA if the war goes on?"

"I wouldn't discount it, Scrimgeour and my father are both former Aurors, I'm sure they would find a lot to talk about. Most wizarding conflict is internal and the ICW won’t step on state sovereignty unless Voldemort-"

A noise that sounded like a hissing cat came from Lucinda's throat. 

I elected to ignore it, focused on my knowledge of the ICW.

"-Crosses into another country, blatantly, to commit murder and discord, the Ministry is on its own, but that doesn't mean other nations are not watching or willing to provide quiet aid in other forms. Scrimgeour is sending a message to any spies or insurgents that MACUSA's watching and an open friendship or alliance with my father, even in more private setting benefits both parties. MACUSA is famous for their large, diverse law enforcement sector and we're also… er nosy about wars in Europe."

Lucinda gave me a look, her glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose. "I swear that's the most I've ever heard you talk about anything."

"Anyway," my face was warm with embarrassment and my hand brushed strands of loose hair from my face. "It's… Stupid."

"It's not stupid. Keep going."

I looked at Lucinda blankly.

"If there is any good thing about Jack Graves, he clearly left you well educated on governmental affairs."

I glanced back down at the list. "Do we have free invitations as the hosts?"

"I have a few, do you have anyone in mind?"

"Actually," the early thread of a scheme began to stitch itself together in my mind. "I think I might."

"Good, tell me later and I'll send them out. Now, the dressmaker sent some fabrics over for us to look at and some designs she drafted. They’re all up in my office and you choose whatever you like."

I nodded slowly and allowed my mind to rest. Time was inescapable. I could make an effort to enjoy myself, or be miserable on a path I had no choice in. 

Jack would know I was at this party one way or another, but I could manage it if I was prepared for any and all eventualities. 

Chapter Text

December 7, 1996

The fabric of the dress was absolutely stunning. It was delicate and shimmered like starlight or the soft glow of the full moon. I spun in front of the full length mirror, giggling like a silly child for a few moments. I felt pretty. I felt like an adult. A fairy tale princess. 

I pulled my hair back away from my face, creating a mock bun to get a better idea of what I would look like at the party. I had a glow of maturity about me that felt unusual and exciting. Work clothes made me feel nice, professional and competent, but there was a lot to be said for the effect of beautiful clothes being far different than even nice day wear. 

My hair fell from my hands as I debated putting it up or leaving it down. No, I was going to put it up, allowing me to show off the earrings and necklace I had pulled out of my mother's jewelry box that I found too delicate, too fanciful to wear to work. A few quick taps on my head with my wand shifted my hair back and up where I wanted it to go, holding it in place while I placed the bobby pins where they needed to before releasing the spell, leaving me with a very nice low bun without a hair out of place. It was not too different from my usual style, but that was fine. I knew it would stay as I wanted it for the rest of the evening.

It was oddly satisfying to have a moment of success with my appearance while being alone in my room. Lucinda would be impressed, I had chosen to take her words about having a nice time being the best revenge to heart. It made sense, but I could not deny the slowly encroaching horror brewing in my gut. Lucinda said she would do her best to stay with me as much as she was able but I knew that would not be a long period of time in any case. Lucinda loved fiercely, but she and I both understood the social aspects of politics and playing hostess to people who could sway a room with money, power or both.

I picked up the lipstick off the nearby table, remembering Misty explaining to me about color and application as she demonstrated on me. It felt very beyond me but she said I could do this, it would look clean and natural, that the color was just a shade darker than my natural color so I should not feel ridiculous. Misty then told me if I found out I liked make-up we could have a more in depth discussion about the more intense things that I found kind of frightening even if it was just for fun. With a toothy smile, she secured my promise to tell her and Zara all about the party next Friday as they had to decline my invitations due to meeting Misty’s family for dinner. 

The color was a warm neutral pink that made me appear soft and harmless. Just me. Just Audrey with a little bit extra. And it looked really nice, it was not as strange as I thought it would be. Misty's assurance that I did not look like a clown echoed through my mind as I twirled in my dress robes again. 

Misty wanted me to wear red lipstick until she found out about my silver dress robes and said that would be nice, but a bit too heavy. Also, I tried to stroke out when she had me try on the color.

Red lipstick seemed too… sensual for my wallflower intentions for the evening (and the rest of my life) but it was an intriguing idea that I had never dwelled on before. There was something bold and powerful about it, symbolic in a way I was unable to grasp. Love was always something I saw as a soft thing, sex seemed a lot… heavier. Scarier. Offering consequences that would reverberate down the road of my life that a man would never grasp. I never felt inclined to risk the consequences, I wondered why it was worth the risk for so many of my classmates? I had no trust a teenage boy would act with discretion, that he would brag to his friends if we became physically entangled no matter how much I trusted him. That word would get back to my father in a horrific manner and I would have to hear a hypocritical lecture of some sort that would reflect on his policies, career or an unplanned pregnancy as the worst case in that scenario that would destroy my future and tie me to someone who would treat me the way Jack treated Lucina. Even worse still, leaving me as a single parent, reliant on my father in some capacity for the rest of my life or even just far longer than I knew I would be able to stand.

If I had to spend my life alone to avoid that kind of betrayal, then that was fine, though it felt wrong somehow to give up on something that other people did not seem to struggle with. Misty and Zara seemed very happy together in a relationship that had fun and flirtation built into its foundation. While Tavish and Lucinda were not romantically involved, their friendship has lasted for years, they had basically coparented my mom and Alistair, becoming a business team in keeping Thornell afloat. My thoughts drifted to Alex and Thalia, who knew each other well enough to be apart and confident enough in each other to be that way long term. Though, that may have just been similar, catlike personalities.

Perhaps that red lipstick had brought a lot more issues to the surface than I expected? Maybe even just as a symbol of other things that I had yet to think about in depth.

I took a deep breath and turned my attention back to my immediate future. What an odd thing to be well dressed and almost too scared to be seen, but I must bury this. The clock had chimed and all that was before me was the mere hope that my skullduggery would turn the current of this river. At the very least divert it away from me for a time.

Oo0Oo0

The chandelier sparkled with refracted candlelight that aided the ballroom's warm glow. A small band of musicians played waltzes for those who wished to dance. I admired it for a moment before I came down the stairs from the landing. 

My stomach fluttered and flipped, my skin prickled with anticipation or nerves as I braced myself to face the crowd that was gathering and lingering at the edges of the room. More were walking in the door, dressed in a colorful array of robes and sparkling jewelry of necklaces and button cuffs that made me think of a flock of shimmering, shining peacocks. 

Don't trip.

These heels were a little too high.

Don't fall.

I hoped I was more graceful than I felt.

Don't embarrass yourself!

I could see Lucinda at the foot of the stairs looking up at me as she leaned on her cane. Her robes were a vibrant red and gold with a high collar that would make her easy to see in the crowd. Her eyes glimmered maliciously behind her glasses, the small pleasures one takes in messing with an ex-nephew-in-law.

“You look nice.” Lucinda looped her arm through mine with a soft laugh. “I was not sure about it at first but I guess Juliane was right about you being able to wear almost anything.”

“Thank you. I love your robes! Any sign of…?” I trailed off as I looked around the room.

“Not yet, but I’ll be greeting the very important people when they start to arrive. Let the Minister look for you, tell him you were helping me if he decides to be an arse. If I see your friend,” she held up the bracelet that adorned her wrist, “I’ll let you know.”

I played with the bracelet on my own wrist that was an exact match to Lucinda’s. If I closed my eyes, I could feel the pulse of power between the bracelets from the close proximity of their twin. The twins were thick, chunky silver bracelets with delicate carvings and had small chains at the clasp for extra security. I wondered if they were goblin craft, but I doubted it. Goblins would not have such a standard design or such simple communication spells, they preferred more complex enchantments and thinner designs for jewelry as a way to show off their skills.

"Perfect. Thank you for all of this."

"No need for thanks, I'm getting a lot out of this too." Lucinda gave a pointed look around the room at the decorations and a slight, victorious smile.

Lucinda had given me a history of every item she had on display or for decoration. She showed me pictures of the reception she had thrown for my parents after they eloped during my mother's tour of America after her graduation from Hogwarts. Lucinda claimed that after receiving the letter from her niece about her new husband and her intent to come back to Thornell to introduce Jack Graves to her family, Lucinda decorated the home to the absolute pinnacle of her skill to host this reception. The pictures she had shown me were stunning, beautiful white drapes on the wall, floating candles next to shimmering crystals that dangled from the ceiling like stars or snowflakes. Lucinda had decided to repeat the feat for the Ministry Gala with a few alterations to modernize it, but overall, it was identical enough to leave Jack in a very uncomfortable position that he would not be able to explain to anyone in a manner that did not make him look like a lunatic. 

Jack’s Secret Service team had reached out and requested a room in case something occurred and privacy was required. Lucinda had informed them that she had a room for them, her secondary office would be perfect for their purposes, but she had a couple of conditions related to the use of the room. That her paintings would stay up on the walls, untouched, as they were prone to protesting their movement and some were of great personal value. She had been very sneaky about putting in a muggle portrait of my mother facing the desk she kept in the room. The painting was eerie and my mother’s fey-like beauty in a still moment in time made it more so, the way she just stared at the desk unnerved me.

I imagined it would have the same effect on Jack. 

I almost wanted to see Lucinda and Jack meet for the first time in a decade. Lucinda was clearly a master of petty, long term revenge, eager to lay bare her dislike so subtly that none but the victim would truly understand it.

By the Twelve, this was going to be a hell of night.

The shimmering refracted light on the polished floors regathered my focus as more people began to arrive. Early birds from Lucinda’s small parties who had connections and money and Ministry employees that I recognized as mid ranked officials and a few I recognized from administrative support. I saw Susanna, the Head of Administration and her husband arm-in-arm talking to another couple near a table covered in bottles of wine.

“Rowana’s diadem, there’s Matilda.” Lucinda stepped away from me with a weary, peevish sigh. “I have to go play nice with the she-devil before the politicians get in here. Go be friendly. I’ll be around.”

As I watched Lucinda make her way towards a slight woman with graying brown hair in emerald green robes, I knew I could have no better accomplice or partner in political skullduggery. 

Lucinda loves deeply, but shows it in… unusual ways.  

There was no doubt in mind that if there was anyone in my acquaintance who could get away with murder, it would be Lucinda Ainsley. Thankfully, she preferred to shed blood on the battleground of politics and society then through the fields of war. Either way, if she had stayed with the Ministry, I was sure she could have become Minister if she desired it.

More people were arriving. The band was preparing and doing final tuning on their instruments as the crowd continued to come through the doors. I spoke with Susanna and met her husband, Albert, who was a funny man who was the kind of person I could picture with my driven, but relatively easy going department head.

"I didn't know Lucinda was your great aunt." Susanna said with a grin, "I know her from some of her political work, financial support for Saint Mungo's and the like. She was involved with orphanage management after during the last war against You-Know-Who, she used to come and give us candy and books before committee meetings with the managers."

"Really? I didn't know that."

"I was about ten when my parents were killed, my relatives were in no shape to take me in and I only needed a place during the summer after starting at Hogwarts" She shrugged and moved a little closer to her husband. "I had a place to live and she helped me get my first apartment and my first job at the Ministry." Susanna looked across the room to Lucinda. "I wonder when we'll have to do that again."

"Do you think we will?" My voice was low and Albert looked between the two of us with a serious expression. "This war has not gone on long."

"I have no doubt." Albert said softly, barely heard over the beginnings of the music from a few feet away. "If it's like last time in any case. I'd be happy to take in a child in need or support any orphanage that pops up, but we'd be more comfortable with Lucinda managing in some capacity."

Susanna nodded, "Tell her to call us if she needs any kind of support, Albert and I are ready to help with whatever cause she puts her weight behind."

"I'll be sure to do that."

We parted as Albert was called over by his department head, Susanna went with him with a wink in my direction before I lost sight of them in the flurry of beautiful robes and smiling guests who admired Lucinda's decor. 

Over the next half hour it became easy to make small talk, speaking of Lucinda's skills and Tavish's artistic eye for the grounds was simple matter. I was truly beginning to understand the depths of people's respect for Lucinda, I met people from her charity groups, some of her old work friends from her time at the Ministry as a young woman and many were here just because she was hosting. I had attended small parties with Lucinda, but I always had the impression that she had those invitations out of obligation as a member of the organization, the Ainsley name crafting ways into wherever she wanted to be in society, even as the name drew its final breaths.

I thought originally that it was all based on blood status, that having an unmarried, pureblood great-niece was giving her leverage in circles where her influence was waning, perhaps that was only part of it. It was a way to turn people with money back in her direction so she could maneuver their bank accounts to her own interests and causes. How did I keep finding these people? 

There was a warmth from the bracelet only moments before I felt a tap on my shoulder that made me jump.

"There's my favorite intern."

Elihu Weathers looked down at me with a crooked, vaguely cocky smile. His curly, dark hair was combed back and he wore dress robes of a deep burgundy color with white accents. The same robes he favored for official embassy functions. Oh, this could not be more perfect.

“I’m glad you made it!”

“Thank you for the invitation. I’m surprised I did not secure my own official invitation, especially for something as important as a first meeting between two world leaders given my position. If you had not told me about it I would not have known.”

“You’ve always been a sucker for protocol.”

“Comes from the rigors of law school.” He plucked a horderve from a passing Barry with a quick thank you. “Any sign of your daddy?”

I shuddered as the last word passed his lips, struggling not to retch. “No not yet, and don’t say the ‘d’ word.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes! That one!”

Elihu laughed and nodded, “Tonight is going to be so much fun.”

“Stay nearby and don’t be obvious. I want them to be surprised.”

“I’ll keep you in my sights, and I found some help,” he stepped aside to reveal a slight woman with short red hair and glasses in cerulean robes. It took me a moment to recognize Valencia Talbot, though I did send her an invitation, I did not expect her to actually come.

“Valencia?”

She finished chewing the horderve and waved at me with a smile, her earrings glimmering in the nearby candlelight. “Hey Audrey.” 

“She was hiding in the bushes.”

“I was not!” Valencia huffed and fixed her glasses. “I dropped my glasses.”

“Three feet away from the road, Val?”

“Ugh. Anyway, Elihu volunteered to hang out with me for the evening if I helped him out with your problem."

"I did not think you would want to come."

Valencia shrugged, "I want to study powerful people in their natural habitat. If I happen to witness anything interesting…" She trailed off with a sly smile knowing that Elihu and I understood what she could not say in public. "We'll be nearby."

Elihu offered Valencia his arm to steady her on heels that I knew were of a practical height, though she took his arm with a smile and nodded at a table of small desserts.

I did not get the impression Elihu was ready to date after Elaine's passing, but perhaps he was readying himself to step out socially to try. Valencia was probably a safe choice for that, there would be no pressure of commitment from her and they knew each other from less than ideal circumstances. Maybe Valencia wanted something similar, someone she trusted who wanted nothing but her company with no pressure for more than she could give.

It was easy to look around the room for any sign of the Minister or my father after that, allowing my eyes to drift over the crowd as couples stepped onto the dance floor with their arms around each other. My hands shook at the memory of Percy’s hand in mine at Eddie’s wedding. It seemed so long ago now. 

As if summoned by my thoughts, I saw a shock of red hair through the crowd and a glimmer of glasses on a long nose and felt my breath catch in my chest. 

Get a grip, Audrey.

I had long found Percy handsome, there was something about his face that was more intriguing than traditionally handsome. There was something in his countenance that would not be considered traditionally attractive, the girls from Illvermorny would find him too thin and gangly. The American ideal of attractiveness had never been something I subscribed too, men who were all virtually identical with muscular builds, athletic with nearly interchangeable faces. I had seen too many men within that image who used it in their politics, pretty faces who said ugly things tended to only wear a mask of civility. People who had the world because they were rich, beautiful had no… character in them. They had expectations that the world would bend to their whims and nothing of substance to fall back on should the world push back.

Percy was handsome with a nice jawline, his freckles gave him a boyish quality that was endearing, but the contrast of such a serious personality with such vibrant hair was fun. It was a reflection of the layers of his personality that I felt I was beginning to put together.

And every time he smiled at me everything would stop for a few seconds while my stomach flipped and spun. 

Percy’s eyes met mine from across the room and the world seemed a little calmer for a moment.

I took a step forward with what I was sure was an awkward smile on my face. I knew he was coming but it was still so surprising to see him outside of work. He was breaking off his discussion with the young men he was speaking with, looking over at me through the crowd.   

“Ah, Miss Graves.” It took me a moment to recognize Harrow Avery, though in truth I would recognize his weak chin anywhere.

Ugh. Not now.

“Hello Harrow, are you enjoying the party?”

“Very much. Lucinda is truly an excellent hostess and I imagine you are learning everything from her in the process.”

“I am, she’s an excellent teacher in all kinds of subjects. I must admit that she is a wonderful mentor in more ways than I can describe.”

Harrow nodded, his smile was indulgent as he looked me over slowly. “Would you like to dance?”

I did not feel I was in a position to say no. I had to play nice with the Averys to make Lucinda’s life easier. 

“Of course!” 

He offered me his arm and I took it so he could lead me to onto the dance floor where other dancers were gathering, they were mostly older couples and and people in early middle age with their spouses. The music began and I found myself being swept away as Harrow lead me gracefully through the music. The faces in the surrounding crowd became a faceless mass as I focused on not stepping on my partner’s toes as his hand rested on my lower back. 

Harrow Avery was a good dancer, as loath as I was to admit it, but his smug smile only made me resentful of his presence. His plain brown eyes seemed to bore into me like a falcon surveying the land for its next meal. 

"It is such an honor to have the attention of the most beautiful woman here."

I could not be swayed by honeyed words. I had seen it too much as a child.

"I think that's a matter of perspective, but thank you for the compliment."

"Oh, I'm quite serious, a true pearl pulled from the ocean," Harrow glanced at the other dancers and pulled me closer to him, bending down to press his lips against my ear as he continued to speak. "Lucinda Ainsley has always been such a supporter of good causes. I only wish to come into her good graces… though lately I find myself wanting to find myself in yours."

"I beg your pardon?"

"An alliance between us."

"Alliance?" A political one? I doubted Harrow and I had enough political beliefs in common for such a thing. 

He leaned back and gave me a soft, confident smile, his eyes glimmering with an unstated humor. "I'm speaking of marriage."

My stomach dropped and I would have frozen entirely if Harrow did not continue to lead me through the rest of the dance. I followed his lead mindlessly trying to process what he had just proposed.

"I don't really know you well enough for that," my voice sounded far away, barely audible over the noise of the band we were waltzing past.

"There would be enough time for that after the wedding. It's usually how these affairs go for people of our station in life."

"Our station?"

Purebloods. My mind was starting to work again and was catching on to the words unspoken that left me uncomfortable. I struggled with No-Majs, but my friends consisted of two Muggle-borns, and a woman of goblin descent. It was a hard thing for me to understand this country's views on blood purity. America did not pay any mind to such things except to explain why they were confused by something a Seed would mention. Our primary concern had always been magic and if a person had it or not, if their families had it great, if not then it only meant extra steps needed to be taken for security.

Harrow's expression grew more serious, his smile never losing its place on his face as he explained the situation to me as if I were a child. "My family has the resources to care for Thornell upon Lucinda's passing. Lucinda wants to try and pass ownership to you or your brother, even if she has to step on centuries of tradition and the courts to do so. It means coming against my family over hundreds of years of inheritance law. Should we marry, all of the involved parties would get what they want for the best possible outcome."

"I see… I've never really thought about it that way." It had crossed my mind in passing, but I dismissed it because Harrow was my cousin and much older then I would have liked in a partner. I had long gathered that Lucinda was very all or nothing in regards to Thornell and it would never be brought up to me as an option.

"Marrying into my family means you would be cared for as a woman of your standing deserves. You would never have to work again. Whatever your heart desires would be yours. You would truly want for nothing."

"I like my job." The words left my throat with a mouselike squeak that left me flush with embarrassment.

"A job is a fine thing for someone who is young and unmarried, but it's not as if we would need your income from the Ministry. Marrying me would provide you safety and security from everything going on in the world."

Only because your father is in cahoots with a dark lord.

Harrow looked over my shoulder and seemed to smile as the song slowed to an ending crawl. "I see Jack Graves has arrived."

My stomach dropped and a cold chill crawled up my spine from something other than the cold air of the open door as the final steps of the dance clicked and snapped on the floor before a round of applause broke out. Harrow released me from his grasp and I felt his fingers glide slowly across my lower back.

"We should speak with him, I would prefer to ask for your father's approval to court his charming daughter."

No. Absolutely not. 

The song came to an end and Harrow tucked my arm in his to lead me away towards where the back of my father's salt and pepper hair was in my view. A panic came upon me, something inside of me screaming to speak and end this now while I still had a chance to control the narrative and the actions to come.

"This will never work, Harrow."

"Really?"

I smiled my politest smile and kept my voice low, "How is your father doing in Azkaban?" 

Harrow recoiled, seemingly unnerved by my sudden barb. His eyes grew fierce and his jaw clenched.

My voice stayed low and steady. "Jack Graves has no love for dark wizards. He would never wish to see one of his children marry into a family who have known practitioners in their ranks, even a generation removed. It's bad optics, something I am sure you understand better than most."

He examined me with hard eyes. If he believed that silence and politeness meant I was meek and spineless, that was his mistake. Many people had made that mistake, including my own father.

"There is not a chance in hell I would ever marry you. You have nothing I want and there is nothing in you that I admire or respect.” I pulled my arm away slowly so as to not gather the attention of the people nearby. “Thank you for the dance. Enjoy the rest of the party.”

Turning away from Harrow Avery was the easiest thing I had done all night. I did my best to smile on my way into the crowd and away from my father and towards where Elihu and Valencia were talking near one of the punch bowls. 

I refused to allow myself to be manipulated, especially in such an inelegant way. Harrow was an arrogant person at his core, he just saw me as a way to ensure his inheritance upon Lucinda's passing. If I gave him an easy in, he would take full advantage of everything the opportunity offered, of that I had no doubt.

Being meek was not something I would deny, I would be a fool to ignore my own nature. A soft personality did not mean I was stupid. It did not mean I would let people walk over me to get what they wanted. It meant I was always in a strong position to pick the battles I wanted to fight, even if I only did so when pushed to the brink.

I could see Elihu and Valencia. The twin bracelet was glowing with warmth and I tried to put myself in the best position I could manage for the rest of the evening. Unnoticed as long as I could manage.

“Miss Graves.”

Dammit.

That didn’t last long.

I made eye contact with Valencia, who gave me a nod before turning to face Minister Scrimgeour with a pleasant, absentminded kind of smile.

“Minister, I’m so glad you could make it. Is everything to your liking?”

“Everything it perfect. Lucinda is truly a wonder, Matilda had her doubts but she has doubtlessly exceeded all expectations.” He gave me a smile, “I believe the president has arrived.”

My heart dropped while the smile remained plastered on my face. 

“I’m sure he’s busy.” I glanced around for Elihu and saw the sleeve of burgundy robes from the corner of my eye. I turned my attention in the direction where I had seen Jack’s hair somewhere over the crowd. “He does appear to be busy.”

“Those are his American Aurors.” 

Ah. Yes. I was sure I knew one of them but it was hard to tell from the back.

“I’m sure he’ll forgive the interruption.”

“No, I don’t think he will.”

Scrimgeour’s expression shifted from pleasant to stern before becoming a truly masked pleasantry. 

Before I could wonder where Elihu was, he stepped next to me with a happy grin that hide the malicious enjoyment he was taking in my little scheme. 

“Minister Scrimgeour! Always a pleasure to see you.” Elihu reached in and shook Scrimgeour’s hand, squeezing it to assert himself. “I thought this was a private party for friends of Madam Ainsley, I never expected it to be a political meet and greet of international proportions. Jack told me he would be in town tomorrow, not a day in advance.”

I glanced between the two men as Elihu continued to speak, his voice becoming lower and vaguely more threatening.

“I’ll have to have a talk with President Graves about that. It makes me look bad, you understand.”

“I can’t imagine why he would not have you informed, though Miss Graves has agreed to arrange introductions.”

You’re dealing with real politicians now, Scrimgeour, and you’re out of your depth. 

“Minister,” I fought to keep my breathing steady as I willed my voice to an uncomfortable girlishness full of a soft innocence and sweetness. “I’m afraid it would appear far better for Elihu to make those introductions. I have no real knowledge of international protocol and policy, it’s just so far beyond me. After all, I am just a secretary.”

Scrimgeour gave me a stern look, his brow knitting and his glasses sliding down his nose. Did he believe that this was all a happy accident. Of course not. Did I raise a valid point? Absolutely. I had just tied his hands. My end of this bargain was filled. 

“That’s no matter, with the war and all, perhaps the letter was intercepted. Now, I’m sure you know there are all kinds of procedures to introduce the heads of nations and it’s lucky I’m here to see it through in all of the formalities. After all, as the Head of the MACUSA Embassy in the UK, it is my duty to handle these sorts of things. We can’t have these things happen against procedure now can we? It looks bad for everybody if we do.” Elihu gave me a wink before leading the Minister towards Jack Graves. 

I win.

It was easy to slip away into the gathering crowd. I made eye contact with Valencia, who was holding a drink for Elihu along with her own who gave me a smug, satisfied smile and a wink that spoke of her pride in this apparent success. I had no doubt she would get the full story to publish to her own paper or sell to another for freelance, just as I hoped she would. 

Yep. I had achieved success and was now in desperate need of a drink or several if I could manage it. I would be content to spend the rest of the night wandering through the garden solo drinking a bottle of wine to truly commit to my avoidance of my father.

Perfect. It was time to find bottle of wine. All I had to do now was find Tinsy, who would not say a word about my drunken ambitions to anyone.

“Audrey!” My heart leapt into my throat at Percy’s voice. I turned quickly to see him walking towards me, dodging through the crowd to get to my side. 

“Hi,” my voice was breathless. 

Percy looked down at me with a smile, his hair was neatly combed the same way he did for work and his dress robes were a dark blue instead of his black work robes, making him look a bit more lively than a young, dour professional. I noted the subtle gold cufflinks on his sleeves. 

“How are you?” The words flew from his mouth a mile a minute.

“Fine. Busier then I thought I would be.”

His face fell, “Oh, if you’re busy-“

“No, not like that.” I laughed quietly as he collected himself. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

His brow creased for a moment as he seemed to consider if he was or not. “I am enjoying myself. I’ve met some interesting people, though…” Percy paused, seeming to try and get his thoughts in order. “Your great-aunt has a marvelous home, I’m surprised you moved out.”

I shrugged, “It was time. She invites me over for dinner a lot though, so I wonder if I ever left at times.”

Percy chuckled, “She must miss you.”

I nodded in agreement as the band played a few notes as a signal to get people onto the dance floor.

“Would you like to dance?”

This felt different than last time. There were no old ladies making snide comments about young people to incentivize and gently chide a young man to dance with the young woman at his table. This felt like a preference on his part. 

“I would love too!” 

I took his offered hand and he led me out to the dance floor. He smiled at me and my cheeks grew warm from more than just the room. 

His hand rested on my lower back and his other hand clasped mine in its warm grasp. This was nice. The music started in earnest and I let him lead me around the room. It was not awkward. It felt comfortable and natural. I thought back to our first dance at Eddie's wedding, the casualness of that party was a radical contrast to the shining floor and string quartet of Lucinda's party. 

He smelled nice, like old books and sandalwood with other things in the mix. I liked his day-to-day cologne better, but this was a very nice change.

"You look nice," I peered up at him with a slight grin to try and hide my nerves. "Are those new robes?"

"No, I just don't get to wear them often."

"Weddings and funerals?"

"In theory, I haven't been to many of those that weren't inviting me to the records office as a witness on short notice." Percy rolled his eyes, "Did I tell you my old year mate Tessa Vernon kidnapped me on my way to lunch the other day?"

"No!"

"She needed a witness for her wedding, I hope she and Tommy Gruber are very happy together. Apparently they were only dating for three months."

"Whirlwind romances never end well in my experience."

"Really?" His voice was low and teasing, "Have experience with that do you?"

"Yes, I've been to the altar three times this year." Percy laughed. "I just think it's very easy for people to lie about who they really are and say all the right things if the goalposts are a short distance away."

"Really? That's very cynical, Audrey."

"It's just human nature."

"You've always struck me as a more romantic, optimistic sort."

"We work in politics, Percy. Romanticism usually gets beaten out of us with every failed bill and new regulation.”

I thought of the two of us, he would be the more romantic in the traditional sense. An optimistic view about bureaucracy at its best. Though, in a personal sense, he could very well turn his intense memory for bureaucracy to a partner.

His shoulder shrugged slightly under my hand. “That just means we have to try again.”

“How much do we sacrifice in doing so?”

“Preferably very little.”

I peered up at him with a grin, noting that he was smiling down at me as well. Glancing aside I saw something intriguing that made me gasp and giggle quietly. “Percy! Over there!”

Percy turned slightly in step with the dance so he could look in the direction that caught my attention. “Is that Nobby Clark?”

“It is! The girl with him is Theodosia Knowles, her father runs a shipping company. She’s reportedly learning the business from her father, but I think she just wants to be a powerful shareholder after he retires and let someone else run the day to day affairs.”

Theodosia was a pretty girl with olive skin and curly dark hair, she was currently slipping away hand in hand with Nobby while her father who was talking to a group of eager young men who I imagined were trying to become the successors to the Knowles Shipping Company. Though, Lucinda had told me that Mr. Knowles had every intention of leaving it to his eventual son-in-law.  I imagined this was a better deal for Theodosia, she could live her own life and write off young men who were too eager to meet her father. 

“Good for Nobby. I’m sure they’ll be very happy together.” 

“I think they will too.”

I guess there was someone out there for everyone.

We were quiet through the last few moments of the song, a peaceful kind of silence that spoke of a natural comfort with one another that I struggled to place. There was not need to fill this silence with awkward chatter and fumble through niceties. Being with Percy socially was an easy thing, he was considerate and was interested in the same things I was on a more detail focused level, the details of the painting rather then the big picture so to speak. 

The song came to an end and we stepped off the floor, my hand slipping from his arm once I noticed how close we were. I stepped back to put a bit of distance between us, something more friendly then this undercurrent of romance that sparked between us in my shaking hands and the butterflies in my stomach.  

“Would you like something to drink?” Percy asked as he gestured towards the table where the drinks fresh glasses were filling themselves with an assortment of sorted wines, divided by color and maker. Reds, whites and a blush that I had found for this event that was crafted by a local vintner. I had an extra bottle hidden in my apartment for girl’s night. 

“Thank you. A white would be fine.”

“Great! I’ll be right back.” Percy disappeared into the crowd who had the same idea and I moved slightly out of the way to avoid the rush of people coming off the dance floor.

A heavy hand placed itself on my shoulder and it’s owner leaned down to whisper in my ear.

“Miss Graves, the president wishes to speak with you.”

I felt my head nod as my mind went blank, my body felt numb as I turned and followed the agent out of the crowd to a quiet part of the house that led to the second floor where Lucinda had arranged her secondary office for political needs. I was going to be sick, my stomach churned at my failure to avoid Jack Graves and- I had felt so successful in getting Scrimgeour managed that I had forgotten that my father was not one to ignore the slights I had given him this evening by not playing the obedient daughter to help his narrative. Meeting privately would help him keep the story that our estrangement was one for my own political education.

I should have left after getting Scrimgeour off my back.

There were two guards at the door who nodded at me with courteous smiles and the agent who collected me opened the door into a well lit room. I could see the oak desk at the other end of the room directly ahead of me and an outline of my father looking out the window with his hands clasped behind him thoughtfully. 

“Leave us.”

The door closed behind me with a click at Jack’s brusk order, leaving me in a cage with a lion. 

Chapter Text

December 7th, 1996

Jack Graves turned from the window to look at me. He seemed older, his hair had been white for years, but I was beginning to see the lines of stress and time on his face. The lines at the corners of his eyes seemed deeper and there was a faint one at the corner of his mouth, as if already the stress of the presidency was helping the rest of him to match age with his hair. I recalled the werewolf uprising in Yellowstone, the werewolves had been pushed back for now, the pack leaders escaping capture in lands they were far more familiar with than MACUSA was. Law enforcement who tried to follow would find themselves in their undergarments on the path that led out of the park. It was becoming a bit of a stain on my father’s early presidency. 

My father was still a frightening presence, but he was alone, there was no Vanessa to dig her burrs in the aftermath, but there was no Annette to help me either. So far, my father and I were as close to equal as we would ever be.

I would wait for him to speak first. 

Giving in was not something I could allow from myself.

It was an easy thing, to ignore the rage that burned under my skin. The ugly beast that slept inside me that fed upon my insecurities, doubts and unpleasantness that I struggled to manage at points came to the surface in my trembling hands and tight throat. Explosive anger was dangerous, it made people stupid. 

I just had to hold it together.

“Audrey.”

“Jack.”

His expression darkened at my lack of respect for him as my father. 

“You look nice.”

In a story, perhaps all would be forgiven or put aside, pride swept away with the tide to find something of the love between a father and daughter. The kind of instinctive love that held redemption and compassion in its grasp. In a perfect world, I could throw the fact that I had found Alex in his face. That I was right and Jack was wrong and I would magically have his love and affection as I healed the rift between the three of us. But I had yet to truly know the truth of Thalia's promise, Alex remained more of a ghost than a man. And in the end, this was no story. This was no fairy tale that promised such clean, perfect resolutions. Jack Graves had his pride and I had mine. 

And our pride could tear us both apart.

“It’s past time you came home.” Jack's voice was low, brokering no argument on the matter.

“No.”

He stepped forward, his black dress robes making him look more intimidating until I managed to decide that he looked like white headed woodpecker.

I held my ground, refusing to look away or be cowed. 

“This temper tantrum has gone on long enough.”

“What tantrum? The only tantrum I remember is you coming around the dinner table ready to pop me in the mouth for telling the truth."

'Like you did to Alex' hung between us, unspoken and heavy for the memory of it.

Jack's brow furrowed, his jaw set stubbornly as he readied himself to pursue a new angle. He had tried direct orders already. I wondered what he would try next.

"Here's what's happening, this country is going to implode and you do not need to be here when it does. I don't know how you've been evading the Aurors I sent as your detail, but you need to update your address with the Embassy Office."

"If an unchanged address can stump them, maybe they need a new job."

The moment of silence between us allowed me to take in the room properly, I shifted my weight slightly to try and ease my aching feet. Lucinda’s secondary office was full of books of all sorts, while her main office held her collection of law and administrative guides, this room seemed to hold a more personal collection of favorites. Books of gardening, finance and an assortment of spell books lined the shelves from floor to ceiling with some shelves of fiction mixed in on a smaller bookcase. The paintings on the wall were primarily of landscapes, a place for the portraits to come if they wanted out of their frames for a time. I was sure I saw Callum in the fields of wheat of one painting, watching the confrontation between myself and Jack in his quiet way, hidden from sight in the tall golden fields with only his red hair giving away his location.

My gaze moved to the portrait of my mother, she was still and silent. Unmoving and eerie in her still portrait with her steady deep blue almost violet eyes and her curtain of wavy blonde hair. She looked forward at the two of us with unblinking eyes as if what sparks of life were in that portrait were judging Jack for his incompetence and myself for playing this stupid little game. 

A noise of rustling paper gathered my attention back to Jack, who was picking up a collection of files he had laid on his desk with the MACUSA Embassy label on the front of the manilla folders and opened them to look at the contents. 

“Don’t be like that. You think I’m ignorant about what’s going on here?” There was anger in Jack’s voice, the kind that was edged with righteousness. 

No. But I was not going to dignify it with a response. 

“Scrimgeour was a Head Auror, a position of active pursuit of dark sorcerers and he has failed abysmally at even preparing this country for such an event. Fudge was weak willed and wanted yes men in positions of power and MACUSA fears that the Ministry is already corrupt with pureblood supremacists, the Minister of Canada fears the same. To his core, Scrimgeour always agreed with Fudge and never seemed to put up any kind of fight on this matter or any other and I don’t trust him to clean house.”

In that, we were in agreement, though I was a bit surprised that Jack was so firm in his opinion after one brief meeting with Scrimgeour, though, given my family, perhaps I shouldn’t be.

Jack turned the page, his expression becoming more of the stern father I remembered from the dinner table than the MACUSA president and I knew who was next on his list.

“How well do you know the Weasley boy?”

“Well enough.”

Jack looked at me as if he wanted me to say more as I knew he saw us talking at the very least. 

I knew Percy well enough to dance with, make jokes with, to trust him if he said everything would be alright. I had no answers that would satisfy Jack, not that I cared too in any case. Percy was none of his business and neither was anything that was going on between us.

“He’s my friend.”

Jack looked at me with a raised eyebrow that was both judgmental and uncomfortably preceptive. There was a pause as he took me in for a moment before looking back down at the folder before he addressed me again. “Don’t get involved with overambitious clerks who come from nothing, that boy has nothing to offer you.”

I grasped the fabric of my dress in a tightly closed fist to try and keep myself collected. To deliver something measured and cutting in lieu of something stupid and senseless. 

This is between us, don’t weaponize Percy like that.

“I thought Americans love a bootstrap narrative? Or did you forget that grandpa helped get you into Auror training?” The corners of my mouth turned upwards into a mocking smile. ”I think there’s a bit more to respect in a person who puts in the work to get somewhere and not coast on family laurels like you did.”

When I thought about my future, there was always something I admired in my school crushes, it was ambition. I saw it with my father turned too extreme ends, for my father did not know how to quit any task or challenge. I liked intelligence and formed opinions who would not be frightened of me for expressing differing ones or who could explain a point they had reached. There was something else I liked as well, a degree of emotional openness that I knew I struggled with. Jack Graves had taught me what I could admire in a partner, but also how healthy moderation could be in his lack of it. 

Percy was very much like my father, but he was a lot softer in personality. I would not call Percy dumb, but his first, second and third inclinations about people did not seem to be about using them for his own gain. His heart was in the right place and he would never be a good politician for it but he would be a good man when he accepted that no matter how ambitious he was, he did not have the ruthlessness to step on everyone in his way to the top of the pile.

I tended to file people’s motives away for later use and I found the blunt, earnest way Percy interacted with the world to be fascinating.   

"If you come back to New York, I'll put you to work in my administration."

"Your administration? Let me guess, you need someone in the family to help Vanessa play hostess because you pulled Annette out to be charming and she scared a dignitary with her murder talk?"

His silence gave me my answer.

I bet Annette did her spiel on acid and body disintegration.  

“Are you going to pay me this time? That’s the only way I’d spend any time with your wife.”

He snapped the folder closed, it seemed like we were going to avoid Umbridge for a more personal disagreement. "I don't like your attitude."

"I didn't like you cheating on my dying mom!”

The room grew quiet like a crypt. The words had flown from me like a torrent of past hurt escaping me at the first and only opportunity it ever had. 

Lucina was never mentioned in my house, the funeral was a quiet affair and probably the last time I had seen Lucinda until I had arrived on the doorstep of her home over a decade later. The funeral was on a dreary day at a local church, while my family was not religious in any capacity, churches were a way for magical people in America to gather in groups within a nonmagical community without having to be questioned by nosy No-Majs. The buildings were enchanted to turn away the nonmagical at the door. My mother had been liked as that lady with the nice accent and the funeral was well attended.   

"Our marriage had been coming apart for years and it started long before you were born!"

"That's not an excuse! Neither of you could admit to failure and I had a front row seat to all of it!”

Jack’s eyes widened slightly and he crossed his arms in front of him, perhaps, for the first time, appearing almost embarrassed. “I didn’t think you’d remember that.”

“The screaming! The fighting! How could I not remember?”

I had no memory of Lucina raising her voice unless she was fighting with Jack. Finances. Politics. Childrearing. The time he spent at the office. If there was something to fight about, the two of them would find it. Vanessa was more agreeable with Jack than my mother ever was, she and Jack did not fight much in my hearing or anyone else’s.  

Vanessa not fighting with Jack did not make her a good person, it just meant she was malleable in that area of her life. They had a healthy relationship because Vanessa could spew her venom in other places.

“I have no real memories of us as a happy family if we ever were one!” 

Jack at least at the good sense to have a flash of something akin to regret on his face. 

The silence between stretched like a chasm and seemed to mold itself to the shape of the room like a third person had joined us in this space.

Jack broke the silence, his expression growing hard as he changed the subject to something he was able to discuss, something that was not so emotionally catastrophic. He began to pace in front of the desk like an irate cat, his shoes silent on the carpet as he returned to our shared comfort topic of politics.

"I need you out of the UK because you will be used against MACUSA if these Death Eaters gain real control of the government, it would hurt our dealings here and opens you to the risk of becoming a political hostage. My intelligence reports are telling me that Voldemort’s followers most likely already infiltrated the Ministry. It’s not safe for you to stay here! You can come back when this mess is settled."

That was… unsettling.

“Governments don’t fall in a day!”

“The Lebedev Affair?”

Right. The shift of power from the old magical aristocracy of Russia to their Premier elected leader of the region. It was one of the great global shakeups of the early twentieth century with regards to wizarding governance. What leadership that existed fell within two weeks and was so silent that there was no way to guard against it from within. I had written a ten page paper on the topic when I was sixteen.   

"Why would I go back? I’ve done nothing but suffer your choices! Endure your ambition! And now you want to try and act like a concerned father!”

"You're my daughter. I do love you." 

"Really?” A bitter laugh escaped me. “Because every bit of love you have shown me feels conditional on doing what you want! I'm tired of being a prop for your career. That's not a life!"

I thought about Tavish, who had shown me more love and affection in the last year than Jack Graves had in at least a decade, and felt myself begin to relax. I had met good men in my time away, good men who saw me as a person and did not struggle to show me that I was worthy of care and affection. It had helped me put Jack in perspective as someone who was perhaps too damaged and selfish, too driven by his own ambition to really see me as a person.

I was free to love my father, but loving someone meant seeing them as a full person and as time passed and I continued to learn about the world and decide my place in it, Jack Graves became less of a looming presence over my decisions. 

I had others who were good to me. People who cared for me. Tavish loved me like a granddaughter. Lucinda had revealed a depth of compassion and love that I was only truly beginning to grasp. Elihu looked out for me and gave me a true political education, treating me like I was important apart from my relationship to the Graves family. 

Why could I find affection and mentorship from everyone except my father?

This… rift was not my fault at all. I bore no responsibility for it and it was never mine to fix. 

Jack Graves was many things. A skilled politician. Deft duelist. Intelligent in matters of state. An adulterer. Callous. And in my eyes, a failure of a father.

I could not continue to follow behind him hoping for crumbs of affection from a man who did not know how to give it.

My life was better and richer for having the courage to walk away from the world that was becoming too small for me.    

"Annette misses you.”

“Don’t bring her into this!”

Jack’s fist slammed on the desk with a resounding bang. “Dammit Audrey! I want you to be safe!”

“Safe? No you just want me out of the way so you don’t have to factor two children into your decision making if this Voldemort thing gets worse!” 

“I’m offering you opportunities that other people your age would do anything for and you’re throwing it in my face!”

“Give it to one of them! You can’t use nepotism and money to get me to do what you want! Are you extending the same courtesy to Alex?”

It was like I had cast a spell over my father for how quickly his demeanor shifted, a familiar anger in his eyes, a quill snapping in two in his hands. There was the Jack I knew so well, singleminded and quick to anger. This was why I had waited to bring up this particular part of the argument that sent me out the door over a year ago. 

“Your brother,” Jack’s eyes were wide and his nostrils flared as I watched him try to keep his voice low when all he wanted to do was explode, “is unable to be found. We’ve found no sign of him since I took office and my people have looked.” He stepped towards me, his eyes steely. “Give up on the fool, if he’s alive he does not want to be found and he’s far better at hiding than you are,” he paused suddenly, “or he’s long dead and this quest of yours is fruitless.”

My father speaking the worst thing aloud was like being stabbed through the heart. I knew better. I knew the truth of things and the shock of the statement wore off as quickly as it had consumed me.

“Are you telling me, that I have had more success than the strong arm of MACUSA?” My voice was lilting and high for the repressed of my amused laughter. “I succeeded where your people with more resources than I can comprehend failed?” Laughter pulled itself from my throat. “Alex has a girlfriend. I found her weeks ago and your son is still very much alive! I think you need to replace your staff, Jack.”

Jack peered down at me with a shocked expression as I let the taste of victory linger on my tongue. He looked as if he had more questions before he remembered the fight that began this familial rift and shifted to a stony expression.

“When I told you I would find my brother I meant it! You’re pretty quick to give him up for dead!”

“I’m being reasonable! More reasonable than half of my children!”

“When I find Alex, you won’t have to worry about my being reasonable-“

“Have you seen him?”

“No, but-“

“What if he’s dead? Has that ever crossed your mind?”

“I thought you said you didn’t have a son?”

“Humor me.” His voice was low and threatening.

“If he’s dead, I’ll bring him home.” The words poured out of me with such conviction that I surprised myself. Alex being dead had not crossed my mind in months. “As much as he’d hate to return to your nightmare of a house!”

Jack’s lip curled back in a snarl and I felt I had taken things a bit too far.

“Leave this to my team and come home!”

“I said no!”

“So this is how you repay me for everything I’ve done for you? Everything that I am offering you is something you throw back in my face like a petulant child?”

“Love’s not conditional, you just think it is! Lucinda honestly cares about me, Tavish treats me the way I wish you did and they ask for nothing in return except my company! Which is more than I can say for you or your bitch of a wife, who made it her mission to see me out of that house with every little comment she made to me out of your hearing!”

Jack looked ready to surge forward and shake me at the comment I made about Vanessa, but restrained himself as I finished. It was like he heard me, but did not want to hear me if that made any real sense at all.

“That happy family you think you have is an illusion because you’re too focused on your career to see the cracks in your house. Where the hell were you? Why was I alone with my mom when she died?” There was a shift in Jack’s expression. Wide eyes and tensed shoulders and I continued my tirade. “You can’t honestly put anyone first in your life except yourself and it’s pathetic!”

“You’re a spoiled little girl with no idea how the world works! I did everything to ensure my children had easy lives and now you’re over here treating me like something on the bottom of your shoe? This is not a path you want to go down little girl!”

I stepped forward, my temper surging higher at Jack’s lack of faith and the insult he had laid upon me. 

“Say whatever you want to say about me to your press team Jack, hell, tell them what an ungrateful little bitch I am! I don’t care! Fuck you!”

I stormed out of the office like the hounds of hell were nipping at my heels, almost hitting one of my father’s security detail with the door. I didn’t stop. I wanted to run from the room. I wanted to escape this house. I managed to slow to a brisk walk as I came to the end of the hall and down the staircase so I would not fall down the stairs or roll an ankle in my heels. 

If those were my last words to Jack Graves then so be it! 

My knees shook as I stepped off the stairs, I turned away from the noise of the party, my stomach in knots of horror and anxiety that made me want to escape into the cold and ice beyond the doors. I could not stand the thought of so many people, so many schemers willing to surrender their morals and ethics for a sliver of power and influence. I never understood the appeal. I wish I had no understanding of those things but here I was cursed and burdened with the responsibility of such matters by both birth and circumstance. 

Was this what it was to be an independent person? Someone who could tell others that they meant nothing to them? To have the knowledge and confidence to go through life on a set course?

This was the most freedom I had ever felt in my life. 

The little girl I was at the Byrgen House was gone. 

The approval of Jack Graves no longer held any true sway over my life.

My life was truly becoming my own. 

I turned away from the party to take the large door into the back garden where Tavish had set up his more grandiose displays for the guests in the form of a shimmering maze of ice and snow. It was refreshing to step out of the stuffy house and into the cold, wild air that cooled my skin and temper in equal measure. It was like a cold drink of water or a spring rain, not bitter or breath taking from the shock of it, but calming like Mother Nature had kissed my forehead to comfort me.

"Tinsy."

There was a quiet pop behind me, I turned to find Tinsy in a tiny apron and the blouse I had given her when I left Byrgen House, both items clean and pressed. She had a couple of small cheese knives at her waist.

"Yes?"

"I hid a bottle of wine in the pantry. It's a very pink, very sweet wine. Could you bring that to me please?"

"Would you like a glass?"

I thought about it for a moment. "No, thank you."

This was a straight out of the bottle kind of night.

Tinsy disappeared with a faint popping noise and I looked around, taking in the quiet of the night and the fairy lights that drifted quietly throughout the maze to make sure no one walked into any of the walls of ice.

If I saw Tavish ambling about in his kilt and dress robes, I would have to tell him that he was both a visionary for coming up with the design and a genius for pulling it together on such short notice. Tavish deserved every bit of praise he was getting tonight.

Tinsy returned quickly holding the bottle, pressing it into my hands with a smile and reminder to drink in moderation before disappearing back to the kitchen.

Now I just needed to find a place to be until people started leaving. Maybe I would just walk the maze. I knew Tavish had set up a few stop points with benches throughout, he was considerate that way.

When I got into the maze, I felt no tension from my meeting with Jack, I found myself focusing solely on the puzzle being offered to me, an array of teasing turns and reflections that would have me by turns amused and annoyed as I worked through the puzzle. Each third left turn was a dead end, every second right the ones in between would lead to short corridors that had two dead ends in opposite directions. I soon realized that the mirrors were pointing in the directions I needed to go, the reflective surface acting as a guide to the heart of the maze.

After a series of turns and altered courses, I made my way through the ice and snow to the center of the maze, the statue and the fountain it rested on revealed as I stepped into the threshold. I paid very little mind to the statue, my feet were killing me and I had to sit down.

The bench was cold, but I was quick to fix that with a warming spell before I sat down to breathe in the cold night air and feel my peace as I dealt with everything that had happened tonight. The statue on the fountain’s center was a work of art. Tavish said it was a faerie princess who fell in love with a wizard, but her lover died in a war and she chose to die instead of living her very long life without him. A morbid, fanciful story I thought. I let the idea of it consume my thoughts and admiration before unwillingly wandering to harder topics from the last few hours.

All would be well.

I had survived the night and if I was lucky I would never have to do something like this again.

If I ever saw Jack again, it would be on my terms. Not his. 

I would be with Alex, we would face him together and get the closure on that chapter of our lives. Yes. That would be how this story ended. Even if they never reconciled, even if I never forgave Jack myself, Annette needed to meet her brother. There was a part of me that wanted all of the Graves children together, there were no photographs of the four of us. Jack would play nice for his image if nothing else, or maybe a sincere, if undemonstrated, desire to extend a hand to his wayward firstborn. Jack was callous, but he was not a monster. 

“There you are!”

I looked up to find Percy at the entrance of the heart of the maze, my hands gripping the edge of the bench with white knuckles as I looked upon him with wide eyes. There were flakes of snow in his hair, standing stark against the brilliant shade of red and the cold had put a pink hue in his cheeks. 

I suddenly remembered I had left him after he had gone to get me a drink. Just another way Jack screws up my life.

"I'm so sorry about that!" My brain was whirring as I tried to come up with anything other than the truth as Percy moved closer. "Lucinda needed me to help with a dress crisis!"

"It's fine, I knew you were probably going to be busy tonight." He stopped and glanced around, taking in this spot at the heart of the maze. "This is amazing!"

"Tavish put a lot of work into it. He's incredibly talented. I just thought he was a gardener until he told me he did ice sculpture. He's basically the weird artist who lives in the backyard."

Percy laughed as I tapped the bottle of wine with my wand to pop the cork over the ice wall of the maze and into the night before inviting him to have a seat next to me. 

"Want to try this?"

"Yes please!"

I passed him the open bottle as he sat down, allowing him the opportunity of the first sip. He was a guest, it was only polite. Percy examined the bottle with trepidation before pulling his wand out of his pocket and conjuring two small wine glasses to rest between us while he poured the wine before setting the bottle on the ground next to us.

“Impressive.” I held my glass in the air. “A toast.”

“To what?”

Freedom. 

“To… not strangling any politicians.”

“To our clean records.”

The glasses clinked quietly in the night air before we took the customary sip. The wine was sweet and cool with hints of berries, citrus, sweet but more like preservatives then a true taste of jam like with other wines of this sort. 

“The party was nice.” Percy said, the hand not holding his glass moving with no goal aside from expressing his excitement as he spoke. “I never thought I would see so many international figures in the same place!”

“You see Elihu every couple of weeks at least.”

“He’s more of a representative. I didn’t think the President of MACUSA would show up, or that I would be in the kind of circles to see him at a private event!” Percy paused thoughtfully, “I thought he would be shorter.”

I thought he’d be less of a prick.

“You didn’t talk to him, did you?”

“Never had an opportunity.”

Oh thank Merlin!

“You didn’t miss much, Jack’s a hard personality.”

He has a file on you and you would not have been prepared for that.

I decided this subject needed to change quickly before I said a lot of things I would regret. I finished the rest of my glass of wine before pouring myself another, feeling slightly dreamy for the experience.

“I thought it was going to be cloudy and miserable tonight."

"Odd for this time of year, but it's nice," He leaned back slightly to peer up at the dark sky and sparkling stars. “There’s Orion.”

I did my best to follow his gaze, but the stars had always been a patternless mess of scattered lights, like a tube of glitter I had spilled on a blue rug in my bedroom as a girl. They were senseless and cold, astronomy was an impractical thing to me, I lived a life of being told tales of dead heroes whose memories were inside the MACUSA Remembrance Hall. The tales of heroes who had been placed in the heavens were interesting, grand trials where they were often felled by sins of pride or jealous, spiteful gods. Sometimes, a person tends to tire of hearing about the dead.

Percy seemed to sense my confusion and leaned in closer to point to where he was looking. “There’s the belt. A bit to the right is his bow.”

“It just looks like a mess to me.” I finished my second glass of wine and moved closer to Percy, our shoulders touching as I did my best to follow where he was pointing while listening to him tell me what to look for in these winter constellations, his voice was low and quiet, the fountain in front of us provided a low hum in the background, both steadying me as the wine began to affect my sense of balance.

I did not know how long we sat there, Percy telling me about the stories of the stars that were beginning to mean something to me because they meant something to him, even though I still found the formations of the stars senseless. I felt the most normal I had ever felt in my life, that Percy had no political motives in relation to me despite anything my father thought.

“Do you want to go back inside?”

A sigh escaped me as I nodded, my head feeling as if it were filled with cotton. “That might be a good idea.”

The wine was gone at this point and Percy vanished the bottle and glasses before getting to his feet to extend a hand to me with a boyish grin. I took his hand and accepted his help, my feet were no longer sore but I refused to risk falling flat on my face in front of my cute coworker. If that happened, I would have to throw myself into the fountain in a dramatic fashion and drown like Ophelia. 

When I fell forward, Percy was quick to steady me with his hand on my shoulders, his other hand still gripping mine tightly.

“Sorry. Foot fell asleep.” I looked up at him, my eyes moving to his fave from where I was eye level with his chest with an embarrassed laugh. 

“You’re fine, I’ve got you.”

I was unsure who leaned in as the clock began to chime the midnight hour. Had that much time passed over the course of this evening? Where had the night gone? My stomach flipped and fluttered inside me as felt myself move closer to him, mirroring his movements, leaving me feeling a combination of sick and fascinated. I was curious, I wanted to see what would happen, the wine lowering my inhibitions on the matter.

It stopped mattering that we were coworkers. Politics ceased to be relevant in my mind. All I could focus on was the bright blue of his eyes the rogue strands of hair that were falling across his forehead. The wanting was easy. Committing to the action was far more difficult. 

Well, it should have been harder.

I was unsure who broke the last inches of distance between us, or perhaps it was a mutual, unspoken agreement. 

When our lips touched, I felt small sparks dance along my flushing face that moved to my stomach. I had no idea which of us had initiated the kiss. There was warmth coming from where he was resting his hands, the warmth moved as his hands slid down to rest on my waist, pulling me closer while my hands slid up to his shoulders to grasp the collar of his robes .

It was an easy thing to stand on the very tips of my toes to capture his lips in mine after he broke the kiss to catch his breath. Another several seconds passed where I thought about nothing but how close we were and how nice this was.

We came apart once more, his face as flushed and pink as my own felt. There was a smear of my lipstick at the corner of his mouth, his glasses were slightly crooked and I resisted the urge to fix them for him as I turned my attention to the ice sculpture behind him because I was feeling very drunk and very stupid somewhere between the euphoria of the thing we had just done and the reality of it.

I had just kissed Percy Weasley.

In my rich aunt's beautiful ice garden.

I'm dressed like a fairy tale princess.

By the Twelve!

He tightened his hold on my waist as I removed my hands from his shoulders. His grip quickly loosened and we both stepped apart. 

I'm not sure how to handle this! What should I say? Should I just leave and pray we never discuss this again? Say thank you for that exceptional kiss, I'll look back on it fondly while I raise cats in my dotage? 

What came out instead was a vowel. "Ah…"

Merlin, Audrey!

"I think I hear Lucinda! Bye!" 

In that moment, I learned how to run in heels and realized I was a quick study in not breaking my ankle in the process.

I could hear his voice behind me, sounding unusually breathless and I could not bring myself to change course or slow my pace. If I stopped, I would hear all of the reasons we would never work, and it was not like either of us had the ability to quit our jobs for a relationship. I was too politically useful and Percy was just too hyper-competent, but a person could live without hyper-competence and I could not destroy his career like that! 

There was an awakening fear of my views of Percy being wrong, that he would be willing to step on a spouse or a girlfriend to attain and keep power. Lucina Graves had taught me something with her death, to never be in a position to be a pretty prop for someone’s ambitions. No matter how pretty the boy’s eyes were. 

If I allowed myself to care for Percy, then would I be repeating my mother’s mistakes? He was clearly ambitious like my father, he had the capacity to be nice like my father was occasionally and if Eddie was right, had cast aside his family for politics like… Well, like my brother.

And like me.

Maybe I was callous like my father? No. I didn’t think so. I could never do what he did. What if my compass was just turned in the other direction? I did leave Annette and Aldridge with two lunatics for parents. No. Vanessa never treated them the way she treated me and Alex, she was more involved with her own children. She played favorites in several ways. Jack Graves never knew what to do with daughters after thirteen, but I always thought he was wonderful to Alex until everything happened.

The kiss was nice though.

Maybe because it felt like a fairy tale with the lights and the fountain, the dress and- No! None of that! I’m here to find Alex. Not to repeat my mother’s life and her mistakes. 

I… I need time. 

I planned what I would say to Percy if he mentioned anything about going out or the kiss or any of it. I would be firm, but polite -I don’t remember- and start looking for work in any other department or with the MACUSA Embassy? I was not sure that would work. It would be like running back to Jack's territory and I couldn't handle that. Plus I liked the Ministry, for all its faults it was not a bad job.

Wait. The Minister would just refuse any transfer request I made.

Well. Hell.

How quickly can I get dragon pox so I don’t have to go back to work? 

A stroke of brilliance came upon me like a bolt of lightning as I touched the door of the house, the noise of the party echoing beyond the door as I tried to corral my scattered thoughts. There was a shop that sold things to help a person skip out of work and responsibilities. The Ministry bought shield hats from them in bulk and the paperwork I had seen indicated that they sold an assortment of other items for more nefarious entertainment. 

The Weasley Store!

Perfect! 

Going to a Weasley to avoid a Weasley was probably the most ironic part of this whole experience. I would go in the morning. If I look sick when I call out of work for a week, no one will pay it any mind at all and I can avoid one of the most awkward conversations of my life so far.

Chapter Text

December 8, 1996

Diagon Alley was quiet and gray as I stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron. The streets were empty, shops were boarded up and the recollection of war came down upon me through the drama of my personal life and I suddenly felt very selfish for my self centeredness. Reading the news was no longer the kind of blood sport I used to enjoy, now it was a matter on which deaths or disappearances would be front page news, the annihilation of entire families, children left orphaned by the mere grace of staying with their grandparents. 

I pulled my cloak a little higher to help hide my face from a passerby as a stray newspaper tumbled down the street. The cold air nipped my cheeks and bit my nose. I sniffled loudly as I looked around for the shop I had blown past on my way to the little cheese shop that I liked to go to for girl’s night.

“Evil warding charm!” An old woman called to me from a pop-up stall. “Protection from the imperius curse!”

I waved her off and continued my walk, making an effort to not call attention to myself by telling her what I really thought of such things.   

The Weasley shop was an abrasive orange color that stood out boldly on this dank, depressing street. A strange joviality in this strange, sad time. The windows displayed and assortment of odd items and posters, one proclaiming the value of something called U-No-Poo which made me cackle like a hag, getting the attention of the people nearby who looked at me with concern for my sanity as they stepped away to move down the street to the sparsely populated shops down the street. There was a low hum of noise and shrieks of laughter from the other side of the door.

I pushed the door open, the bell jingled loudly over my head as I stepped inside. 

The interior of the shop matched everything the outside of it implied. It was bright and garishly colorful, a crowd of young children were running around examining everything on the shelves and playing with the test products. Their parents were following behind them, tense but intrigued by the complex displays of magic and more focused on the items labeled for personal protection. 

A shrill caterwauling of “I will have order!” came from over my head in a familiar voice that made me wince. I looked up to find a miniature of Dolores Umbridge riding across a wire on a unicycle shrieking to only be heard occasionally over the crowd if I stood in the right place.

This shop was busy, if I had truly wondered where Diagon Alley’s usual crowd had gone since the war started, I had just found them as they were all clearly here. Amazing. I guess people are always looking for joy and levity in dark times. I examined something called a Decoy Detonator and an impressive array of fireworks with an assortment of silly, creative names. There were Wildfire Whizbangs! Assorted Candy! More things than I could ever remember if I was ever asked! 

And I was completely lost.  

My gaze drifted to the center of the crowd where a red headed man was holding court over a group of small children. His voice was loud as he held one of his devices aloft to explain what it did. He was broad shouldered, taller than me by a few inches, covered in freckles and wore a devil may care smile to explain away any thoughts or concerns I had about his magenta robes clashing with his hair in an indescribably horrible way.  

It did not truly occur to me until I saw the second man who was identical to the first come out from behind a nearby shelf that these were indeed Percy’s brothers. It became easy to place the pair when I recalled the photograph from Arthur Weasley’s office. They were older than they were in the picture, they both looked to be around my age, their faces still had a round quality of youth in them. Where Percy was tall and lanky, the twins were stocky and broad shouldered, their hair was a shade lighter than Percy’s, messy in a way that was charming that Percy would never allow for himself. I wondered if there was anything to mark them as related at all. 

I found it when the second twin shot me a grin before putting down his wares to walk in my direction. The uniform for this shop clashed violently with his red hair in a way that left me both fascinated and a bit blinded by the sheer intensity of the mad-wizard aesthetic. 

“Hello there!” The young man stuck out his hand, his expression growing increasingly playful. "Name's Fred, that's my brother George."

"I'm Audrey, it's nice to meet you." I glanced between Fred and George, the photograph left me the idea of the twins but the reality was different for how it confirmed how absolutely identical they were. "Your poor mother. How did she ever tell you apart?

He leaned a bit closer, his smile widening as our hands fell back to our sides. "The secret is that we're not identical."

"Really? Let me guess, one of you has extra freckles?"

Fred shrugged, his smile never leaving his face. "I'm the handsome one. They say I'm the best looking Weasley brother."

I did my best to ignore my preference for redheads and the easy line Fred had laid before me. Something about preferring men with glasses.

"Flirt," I rolled my eyes with a coy grin. "I'm hoping to put a Christmas box together for my kid sister in America. I was wondering if you had anything to recommend?"

He lit up, "That's where you're from. I thought you were Canadian."

"Close. I’m from New York. Not that far from Canada in the grand scheme of things."

There was something in his face that I was struggling to place. A familiarity as he seemed to take me in entirely with a probing brown eyed stare. It was not uncomfortable, it just felt like he knew things that I had not shared in the last few minutes. 

Fred motioned for me to follow him and he led me further back into the shop. Rows of colorful boxes that made no sense to me with increasingly silly and unusual names greeted my senses in an overwhelming fashion. For two young men who were probably a little younger than I was, having a shop of this nature was very impressive in itself, let alone being Diagon Alley's most booming business. 

We stopped in front of a shelf of items that had labels like Fever Fudge and Puking Pastilles. 

"How old is your sister?"

"Twelve, she's at Ilvermorny so I'd like something that I could send overseas without getting caught in customs."

Fred put two boxes of Fever Fudge and another two of Puking Pastilles in the bag I was holding. "These are good for ditching class." He must have seen my expression of mild shock and horror at the idea. He laughed. "Good for getting out of work and other obligations too."

Perfect! I could not tell him that. It would make me look like a hypocrite. Which I was. A big flaming hypocrite.

No one has to know I've wanted to skip Astronomy plenty of times.

"Now," he clapped his hands in satisfaction as he put another couple of items in the box for me that I would have to double check to make sure they were appropriate for my kid sister and not something she could use in whatever schemes went on in that odd little mind. "I think that should be enough to start off any young troublemaker. Perhaps we can find something for you, I am told that Ministry work is dead boring."

"How did you know I worked for the Ministry?"

Fred shrugged, "Dad mentioned some nice American girl was working in the Minister's Office. Not a stretch to think you're it."

I was going to be polite. Percy's family was not my business. I had my own family issues but this did not need to be solved in the same manner my family tried to solve our own, with words of hate and acts of violence borne of pride and arrogance. 

"I see. How is Percy related to you then? A cousin perhaps?"

Fred gave me a hard look, his customer service smile never leaving his face giving him an aura of menace that I refused to be intimidated by. 

"He's my brother."

"Really?"

It would be easier to play dumb. I was an outsider to this family drama and people always said more when they were angry about something or at someone. 

I knew what someone leaving the family could do. The Weasleys acted very much like my own family after Alex left from what I had seen and heard over the last year. I should be disturbed by how comfortable it felt to dwell this close to the fire, but perhaps it made me more willing to poke the sleeping dragon. Fred was very quick to correct me and that hard stare may have been hiding hurt from an older sibling leaving the nest with, from my understanding, a whole lot of drama and far more emotional fallout then had been managed at the Byrgen House. 

The hurt was something I understood too well.

"I never would have believed it. He's mentioned having siblings but I just assumed they were all much younger."

"Wow."

"I mean, he sounds like an old man sometimes."

A huff of laughter escaped Fred that he was quick to try and cover with indifference. 

"You must work for the Minister then.”

I nodded. "It's…" I paused, choosing my words carefully. "It's not MACUSA. More lax, less militant."

"Don't be smug, we know you all have dark wizards in America."

"We're better at making sure they're dead than you all are."

"Low blow." He laughed and led me over to the WonderWitch section that smelled of… cologne I recognized from when I was dancing with Percy. The slightly musky scent that brought back memories of the time we spent in the maze, the smell of him as he showed me the stars. There was no way he bought that here! There was an aroma of old parchment mixed in with fresh grass that made me weak at the knees for a moment. It was coming from a blindingly pink display labeled WonderWitch with signs and clever ads advertising… Love potions.

My stomach curled, memories of reading the newspaper article my brother had written about Valencia Talbott’s assault invaded my mind, mists of memory in a cold chill that gripped and squeezed in a way that was horrifying and uncomfortable. I was older than I was when I first read her account, but the memories came back as fresh as if it was something I had read only minutes ago. They sold these things over the counter? As a joke? There was nothing funny in manufactured lust! There was no joy in being a victim of it.

“I was not aware you sold love potions,” my voice was low and quiet in a way that was unfamiliar to me. 

“Yep! One of our best sellers!”

I was sure I was going to be sick. 

“I think I’ve got everything I need,” my tone was brusk as I took a step away from the display. I was not going to be confrontational, I was going to bite my tongue on the matter but continue to be disgusted in private. This was not something I was prepared for today, I was always very considerate in my actions and dissent in society and I saw no reason for that to change now. 

Fred motioned me over towards the counter with a shrug and proceeded to tally up the total cost of my purchases with a smile and a very flirtatious wink. I assured him that my sister would enjoy the things he picked out for me. Though, privately, I knew the Fever Fudge would be of particular use to me. 

More niceties were exchanged, though I could see George trying to shout his twin back over to be helpful while Fred waved him off to escort me to the door and hold it open for me.

“I’m taking my break, George!”

“No you're not!” A sharp voice said from the depths of the shop as the door closed behind us. Fred opted to ignore his brother. 

"So, doing anything tonight?"

“I’m sorry?”

I was really having a hell of a weekend.

“My brother and I are going out for drinks with a lady friend of ours and perhaps we could make it a double date?”

“A double date?” I giggled awkwardly, trying not to think about Percy, as I shifted my bag of purchases to my other arm. "What do we have in common to talk about?”

“That’s the fun part, we get to find out together. We both have sisters, we could start with them?"

“Is your sister likely to become either an Auror or a serial killer too?”

Fred’s laugh was high and infectious.

“I also have an older brother.”

“He’s not protective is he?” His eyebrows wiggled suggestively, lecherous and playful. 

“I don’t think so,” I paused, it was odd to mention Alex to a stranger, but the only other reason I could offer to refuse was the fact that last night I kissed his brother. 

Isolt’s panties this is so awkward.

Do I lean in and lie about Alex? Say that he’s a MACUSA Auror, leaning into both reputations of Aurors as a whole with MACUSA’s bloodthirsty reputation? This man made explosives for a living, I doubted a scary Auror brother would be a deterrent for him, he’d probably see it as a challenge.

“Don’t think so?”

“My brother has not spoken to me since I was thirteen.” 

That sounded awful.

By the look on Fred’s face, the wide eyes and tightening mouth that reminded me of Percy when he was displeased about something, he seemed to agree with the thought. Something in me wanted to press and twist at something that mocked me with similarities to my own family. Though, from the look on his face, I did not think that would be necessary, Fred was impulsive and would not need much encouragement from me.

“He sounds like my brother. Let me guess, he put his work over his family? Told your dad he was scum on his way out?”

Um. Yes.

“A family doesn't deserve blind loyalty by the act of sharing blood.”

There was a huff from Fred, “He’s free to come back and apologize at any time.”

I imagined there was less apologizing in Fred’s vision than there was absolute groveling.  

“You sound like my father and I don’t speak to him. Everyone else is wrong and he’s always right. Do you think you bear no sin? That the fault only belongs to one person? It takes two people to fight and more to isolate someone and ensure it continues.” 

Fred gave me a very hard stare, like he was willing to argue the matter of philosophy but was torn by the fact I was also a paying customer individually and professionally as I worked directly for the Minister. Though, I doubted he really cared for such things. Like me, he may have been fascinated by what similarities we clearly shared in our family matters, left behind by an older sibling who we had not spoken with in a long time.  

“Here’s the difference between us. I do not care who was right and who was wrong. I’m actively looking for my brother, you’ve shut yours out long ago. I hope you all swallow your pride and find it in yourselves to make amends before something terrible happens.” There was a stubborn set to my jaw and a chilly ferocity I seemed to be growing accustomed to. “Thank you for your help today, Mr. Weasley, it was very much appreciated.”

I turned away, the cold gray streets were all I could see as I walked back to the Leaky Cauldron. The shouts of charm sellers became a senseless interruption to my thoughts. I was going back to my apartment to have lunch, and then spend the rest of the day in bed, panicking over the week to come between reading the novel I had borrowed from Misty about a baker and florist who solved crimes together. 

It was easier than dealing with my life at the moment.

 Oo0Oo0

December 9, 1996

I stole a glance in the mirror, my skin had taken on a sickly pallor as I sniffled and sneezed as an  ache moved up my body, settling in my shoulders and other joints with shakes as beads of sweat began to form on my brow. 

Heh, those diabolical doppelgängers might be geniuses.

I would never say that sentence aloud. 

I fumbled with the floo powder jar before throwing a pinch of it into the fireplace, the flames growing into a brilliant green that sparkled like emeralds. I coughed and wiped the sweat from my brow before sticking my head into the fire and speaking my destination. The whooshing sensation dropped me in the floo department where I saw the floo secretary looking down at me with parchment in hand. 

“Name and department please.”

“Audrey Graves. Minister’s Support Staff Office.”

"Reason for calling."

"I'm diseased, Maeve." I began to cough to make a point.

Maeve looked at me carefully, her face growing increasingly disgusted with my obviously ill appearance.

"It's not dragon pox is it?"

"Bad cold, I think," I wheezed, growing more impressed by my fake illness by the minute.

"You look ghastly."

Just as I hoped.

"I'll transfer you to the Support Staff Office so you can tell them you'll be out for…?"

"Few days. Maybe a week." I coughed and wheezed, inhaling smoke in the process. "I'm afraid it's quite severe."

Maeve muttered something and sent me on my way with a flick of her wand. In the fiery blink of an eye, I was looking around my office from a new prospective, ankle level like a Lilliputian in a land of giants through a glass floor lamp in the Minister’s Support Staff Office. These were in the main offices instead of fireplaces, if we lit a fire in every office to directly communicate and take outside calls we would suffocate from the smoke. Also, these were portable, so they could be moved for private calls.

This was a different view. I generally did not like floo calls, I tended to smell like a fireplace when they were done and it made my eyes burn. It only added to my old fashioned preference for letters. I sniffled loudly, my eyes burning slightly from either the ash from the fire or the fever fudge and did my best not to choke on whatever nasty thing was trying to come down my sore throat.

A pair of familiar black shoes stopped in front of me, they were scuffed slightly at the edge of the sole from wear and age, but well maintained in other aspects stopped in front of me. I felt my stomach lurch in horror. 

I was expecting Umbridge, I had prepared myself for a false sweetness and equally pretend pity for my fake disease. 

Percy and his perfect hair were not what I was expecting to see.

My throat was dry as he knelt in front of the glass lamp, cleaning his glasses on the sleeve of his robe before putting them on his face so he could see who was in the small fire. 

"Can I help-"

We made eye contact as he put his glasses back on and the world stopped turning. Percy seemed to freeze in place as a cold chill settled in my chest.

I did not have a plan for this. 

His hair glowed with the halo of light from the mage light behind his head, a look of concern on his face personified in a furrowed brow. I felt my mouth grow dry from more than just the fever fudge.

"Hello Audrey," his voice was no longer clipped but quiet and surprised as his gaze wandered over my face in the fire. Heat from more than just my fever surged into my cheeks. 

"Morning," I croaked as memories of our kiss in the maze flooded my mind like water from an open dam. How warm he was in the cold air. The way his mouth moved against mine as his hands trailed down to my waist and pulled me closer...

I needed to get off this floo.

But I was also a mature adult and would handle this with grace.

"I won’t be in today, or the rest of the week.”

His eyes widened and he leaned closer, his voice low and rushed with concern. “What’s wrong?"

My attempts to speak were drowned out by a symphony of coughing. When I was able to speak again all I could think to say was, "I have the plague."

"Plague?" He smiled wryly, his mouth slightly crooked and a playful tone to accompany his words. "I'm told the last wizarding plague was in the Middle Ages. I was not aware that it had a resurgence."

"I'm patient zero apparently," my eyes rolled and I tried not to laugh at his teasing, even if it lowered my tense nerves. "I'm in a secure facility being studied."

"I'll tell Umbridge you have the flu, don't want to cause a panic do we?"

I shook my head slowly, my braid swaying gently across my back. This was scary, but it felt so easy. 

"Do you want me to get you anything? Medicine maybe?"

Don't make me feel bad for lying, Percy.

I sniffled and shook my head, my throat aching and every instinct in my aching body was telling me to get off the call and eat the other half of the fever fudge tablet. “I’ll manage, thank you.” 

We looked at each other for several moments, I focused on the line forming between his eyebrows a little longer than I should have before speaking up. 

“I’ve got to take my medicine, I’ll see you next week.”

“Yes, yes of course.” He flushed to the tips of his ears as I pulled myself free from my apartment fireplace.

The world around me swirled in varying colors of green with tinges of yellow before my head came out of the fireplace with a hacking, chesty cough. I reached for the purple half of the fever fudge that I had left on the coffee table and popped it in my mouth, hoping it was as quick to work as its counterpart. 

The aches in my body stopped almost immediately and all I could think was how impressed I was and that I really could have used those Puking Pastilles when I was a child getting dragged to my father's political rallies. 

 Sometimes things that can change a person's life come into the world a bit later than needed.

Oo0Oo0

December 13, 1996

Misty pulled me down into a tight hug that left a slight ache in my ribs. I had not seen her all week due to playing hooky from work. She was making happy noises at seeing me and made more when she saw the leftover wine from the Gala that I was peeking out of my expanded purse.

"That is not the Wise Magus Winery is it?"

"Yep!" I held up the bag with a smile as I walked inside, Misty closing the door behind me. "The good stuff that was leftover from the party!"

"You're an angel!" Zara said from the kitchen, "There's room in the fridge."

"On my way." 

I was fascinated by the bits of No-Maj life that filled Zara's flat. The refrigerator, as she called it, kept the food cold in the long term without the use of magic and the perfect temperature. Wizards would use a cold cabinet or cupboard with spells on it, but sometimes they would be too powerful and freeze the contents entirely, or there would just be a charm placed on the food to keep it from rotting. It really depended on the family in question.

Zara placed an assortment of chocolates and fruits on the table. Sliced oranges, strawberries, plums, pears and some that I did not recognize. 

“So, tell us about the party!” Misty sat down with a brilliant, gleaming smile that made me want to spill all of my secrets. “Any salacious gossip? Did Umbridge really choke on a piece of fancy chocolate?”

How much should I say? I can’t keep these secrets forever and it might be nice to get some of this off my chest. Misty and Zara would never tell. I can’t talk about Jack, that’s such a raw thing and honestly, I am panicking over seeing Percy in person and not between the glass of an office floo call. There was pride in having some kind of normal relationship with another human being, within the bounds of friendship and also in a romantic light that would never go anywhere at all. It would be a nice memory and eventually something I could laugh about when I told stories about my life.

“I did not bear witness to her choking on anything except the boots she was probably licking.”

Zara and Misty laughed before I began to describe the party and the array of beautiful robes that made Misty give a dreamy sigh. 

“And I got a marriage proposal,” this last addition was offhanded and casual in a way that it took a moment for it to register for my friends.

“WHAT?” Misty exclaimed as Zara began to choke on a strawberry. “WHO?”

“My cousin Harrow.”

“What did you say?”

“No, of course. I shot him down really hard.”

Zara stopped choking and slammed her hand on the table with a bang, “Good! Say not to incest!”

“I can’t imagine you stuck around after that. Yikes!” Misty finished her wine and went to refill the glass. 

“I didn’t. I went to the back garden and…” I debated for a few moments before deciding that I needed to be honest about some aspects of my life. “I kissed Percy!”

Misty spat out her wine. “WHAT!”

“You turned down a proposal and went to snog another man!” Zara was laughing uproariously as Misty babbled incoherently in shock. “Amazing!” 

"Percy Weasley?” Misty whispered, her voice high in surprise and disbelief. “Your coworker? Not some random Percy you found on the street?"

My face was hot like I had just stepped onto a beach in the dead of summer. 

"You've been making moon eyes at him for months."

"I-I have not!"

Misty smiled like a cat that got the canary. "Yeah you have, when we get lunch together in the cafeteria you get moonstruck if you see him walk in. I don't see the appeal myself, but it's kind of adorable."

Zara was looking between us, her bottom lip between her teeth as she tried not to giggle. 

I slumped down on the couch, my eyes on the ceiling in a kind of prayer to be sucked into a black hole. "Was it that obvious?"

"Yes." The pair answered in unison as they clicked their wine glasses together in an apparent victory. 

"It was more of a matter of when," Zara stated sagely as she brushed her purple hair from her face. "You just won me a week of not having to do dishes and two galleons by the way. Misty said you would find another ginger or one of you would leave your job so you could date."

Misty's scenario would have been the most likely overall outcome if things were less complicated and there was any asking. "We're not dating. I don't think that will change."

Zara gave me a look. "I went to school with Percy, he's a bit of a nightmare but he knows what he wants out of life, personally and professionally. Give him a chance to sort this out in his own mind and he won't say a word about it in the meantime. The man had a secret girlfriend for a year, I think he just likes to keep things private."

I believed Zara’s analysis, but I was sure I would find out myself in the coming days.

Chapter Text

December 17, 1996

My return to work after my… illness was a quiet affair beset by my own anxiety. Thankfully this was not America and I had acquired far more sick time here then I was sure I would have ever attained as a full time employee back in the states. I was also paid for my truancy, which was a pleasant benefit to this whole affair and added an air of comedy to the whole thing.

Essentially, I had been paid to help Lucinda and the other Thornell residents take down the decorations. Lucinda, Tavish and I drank and complained in the aftermath, which I had to admit was therapeutic for my frayed nerves. I had told them everything about my encounter with Jack, which made Lucinda scoff and roll her eyes as she spoke of his domineering personality. Tavish looked at me with a furrowed brow, saying that he saw why Jack would want me home the way things were here, but he had gone about it in such a terrible way that he couldn't blame me for picking a fight and choosing to stay.

Tavish then asked about the English boy who he had seen coming out of the garden not long after me. I merely responded that he was my coworker and we had both gotten lost in the maze. Tavish then restated his opinion that I find a nice Scottish lad, not some poncy Englishman. I made the appropriate noises of agreement. 

Lucinda told me she was proud of me for my political skullduggery, though I was wondering about the repercussions I would deal with now that I was back in the office.

I stepped inside. The office was exactly the same as when I left it last week. My nameplate was still on my desk. My quill pot and inkwells were full and well used, respectively. It looked like I still had a job and had not been fired or moved to another department in my absence. I sipped my coffee, wincing when I realized I forgot the sugar, then grateful that I had not added salt instead.

By the Twelve, that would be a fantastic start to the week. Salt in my coffee.

I think that should be the title of my memoir.

I sat down at my desk and began to go through the materials that had been left for me. Papers to file, to sort and items that were not urgent to send down to the other departments. It did not take me long to realize they had already been sorted.

Ah. That would be Percy's handiwork then.

I was starting to wonder if he left the office these days. Maybe it was selfish to hide at home for a week but I could not handle that discussion then, my plan was to claim that I did not remember a thing and go on about my life as normal. No muss no fuss.

It was easy to fall back into the routine, making early morning talk with Agatha as she pushed her tea cart into the support staff office to deliver a fresh morning cup and resupply what we kept in the break room. Watching the old woman’s false smile become genuine when she realized Umbridge was in an early morning meeting. I realized that I was no longer Agatha’s least favorite member of the Minister’s staff.

The Minister walked in with a series of words to an already frazzled looking Percy who was following behind him while his head bobbed in agreement to whatever the Minister was saying. I was not paying attention to any of that. Percy had sent a stray glance towards my desk, locked eyes with me and almost tripped over the edge of the rug in the middle of the room.

Oh this was going to be a very long day.

And it was.

That long day turned into a long week where I was generally ignored and Percy was far too busy to have the conversation that I knew was inevitable. Even if I wanted to break the ice, he was never away from the office and if he was he was always with Umbridge or the Minister. The rush of Christmas on the horizon was truly no help in this as he stayed late to finish crucial matters while I did my best to leave on time, often slipping away at the end of my shift while Percy was dragged off to various meetings to act as a scribe. 

Perhaps the long week was a blessing in disguise. Maybe it would be best if the two of us never discussed the matter and went on about our lives as we had before. I was sure Percy felt the same way. A momentary impulse that was best forgotten.

Yes. I could live with that.

Oo0Oo0

December 27, 1996 

Diagon Alley was fairly quiet in the early evening. The only people who were out were people who were running errands after work like I was. The lights were coming on, bringing a pleasant glow to the street and allowing me to look at passersby who were trying to hide their faces under large hats and hoods. I had just had a very successful mission at a local food shop for girl’s night and then went to a secondhand bookstore, adding several new books to my growing collection, some focused on occlumency, a new book of defensive spells that I was hoping would surprise Lucinda and secure me a victory at last after months of effort. The rest were various works of fiction in a long series about the various follies of humanity.

The important thing was defeating Lucinda.

“Audrey?”

I whipped around quickly, my hand resting on my wand expecting someone nefarious only to find Percy standing a few feet away from me. His hair caught the late afternoon lamp lights in a fascinating manner, but it was not quite as enticing as the look on his face. A combination of confusion and resolve that was far more pronounced than it had been during the course of this previous week.

“Could I have a moment of your time?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

Percy took a couple of steps closer as he shifted his bag of purchases on his arm, the distance was still respectable and appropriate for friendly coworkers. 

The awkwardness had passed at work over the days before Christmas. Granted, I was sure Percy had worked through the holiday with Scrimgeour and the department heads. I was a low level staff member, so I got to eat a Christmas ham with Lucinda and Tavish without being bothered. Secretaries handled social things that made managers' lives easier, not high level meetings where secret things were discussed.

He glanced around, his eyes coming to rest on Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes down the street with narrowed eyes before turning his attention back to me. “It’s dangerous to be out alone these days.”

“Yeah, I had to get some food.” I looked at the bags he was holding. “Why are you out here alone?”

“Potion ingredients.”

“Really? Why not just go to an apothecary and have them make it for you?”

Percy made a face, “Why would I spend the money for that if I can make my own?”

“Did you just get off work?”

He did. I could see it on his face and the slightly loosened tie. I left the Ministry over an hour ago. 

I was not going to press the question. Potions were difficult to make, but some people were capable of making small everyday potions if they could find the supplies and the time. Rarer ingredients were zealously guarded by apothecaries and potioneers to preserve their business. Learning how to brew potions in a school setting was really an exception to this rule, allowing children to explore things that they could do in a career setting was vital to economic growth and development. 

I fumbled with the bag with my bread, jam and cheese as I balanced my heavier bag of second hand novels and books about occlumency and defensive spells on my arm. I tried not to think of the pile of books that I had bought a few months ago that I had yet to read piled in my bedroom that I was working through. The best time to read a book was right before bed after all.

“How was Christmas?”

Percy shrugged, a peculiar expression on his face as he changed the subject, “Do you want to get something to eat?”

I froze and turned my attention back to him, my eyes wide like dinner plates. That sounded like a date. My gaze moved over him slowly, taking in every aspect and detail of his expression. The tight lips, furrowed brow and the way he rocked slightly on the balls of his feet that countered the stiff straight back of his posture gave him an uncanny resemblance to my father, more from a combination of awkwardness and pride than the easy confidence of an older man. 

“Hm? I thought there was some Ministry rule about fraternizing with coworkers?"

"There is," he said, his voice soft and slow.

"I don't want to get you into trouble."

"We would only hear about it if we were seen."

"How do you propose to avoid that?" I looked around at all the little shops, cafes and restaurants, while half convinced that Umbridge could pop out of any one of them with a little cough of displeasure while pulling termination papers from thin air. 

"Well, there is a little muggle pub not far from here, if you're interested?"

I nodded slowly, my mouth dry and skin prickling. I had never been to a No-Maj pub or shop before. I lived solely in wizarding society. There was a daring sort of draw and attraction to something that was forbidden back in America. This added to the allure of rule-abiding Percy Weasley clearly looking for loopholes in the personnel management guidelines.

This was… intriguing.

I followed him into the empty Leaky Cauldron and out the door I had never taken before into the nonmagical part of London that smelled of smoke and rang with the noise of city living in contrast to the incredible silence of Diagon Alley I had learned to live in since July while running errands.

We walked for about ten minutes in a comfortable kind of silence. This felt odd and daring for the time period, I had not been out in the evening in months, only long enough to walk from the apparition points to whoever I was visiting, which was only thirty seconds tops. 

We stopped in from of a pub called The Green Dragon, Percy held the door open for me and I was greeted by the dim light of the interior with the dark wood of the the bar that matched the customer tables and the various green dragons painted on the wall and the little matching glass ones that rested on the upper shelves in glass cases. 

The customers seemed to be a mix of middle-age and a group of younger people about our own age in strange costumes (one dressed like no warlock I had ever seen, another with pointy ears like a house elf with delicate jewelry) heading into a backroom with books and materials for some kind of game. That being the case, I didn't think Percy and I would stand out very much. His robes were subdued and No-Majs would probably think he was just in an unusual coat, they would all probably assume I was wearing a dress. Honestly, we were not the oddest people here. We placed an order at the bar and made our way to a table in the back corner

"This is nice. I like the dragon collection."

"Oliver said the owner's cousin is a glassblower, it's how he got all of these dragons."

I eyeballed a little fat green dragon in a case behind the register. It was very cute.

"Oliver?" I put my coat on the back of the chair over my purse, where I had put my secondhand books and food before leaving the alley so I would not have to fumble with the bags. 

"You've met him," Percy put the beer on the table and took the seat across from me while trying not to laugh but doing a very poor job of it. His voice dropped so we would not be overheard by No-Majs nearby. "You turned his foot into a flipper."

I blushed. "Right, that guy! How does he know the owner?"

"He doesn't, Oliver is just good at talking to strangers."

"He does have a very trusting face. How long have you known each other?"

"About nine years now. We were the only two boys in Gryffindor for our year so we spent a lot of time together. I visited the family a lot over the summer, Oliver has two older brothers but they were getting ready to leave home at that point."

I did the math quickly. Their early years were under the shadow of Voldemort's first war, that there were only two boys in their house and year made sense, I couldn't imagine having children under those horrifying conditions, and Percy had a bundle of younger siblings too. 

"How many girls were in Gryffindor when you started?"

"Four. What about yours?"

"My graduating class was fifty-six. It was myself and two other girls for Horned Serpent and five boys. Pukwudgie had the biggest group overall."

Our conversation drifted from the size of our classes to our shared favored topic of international law and current Ministry policies related to the war, our voices low to keep ourselves from No-Maj attention. We continued on as our food arrived, our conversation moving towards Percy doing his best to explain a very silly Quidditch rule to me that was being discussed by the Department of Magical Games and Sports, while I brought up a counter argument with Quadpot as a basis stating that Quadpot only had a hundred silly rules as opposed to the seven hundred of Quidditch and was therefore a superior sport. As we finished our meals the conversation shifted again to complex matters that were more personal in nature by my own prodding and curiosity.  

"What brought this on?" I moved my empty plate to the edge of the table next to Percy’s.

"What do you mean?"

"You're very…" I paused and ran through a variety of ways to describe Percy in a polite way. "Conscientious about appearances and taking the office secretary out on something that has the appearance of a date runs counter to that."

“What if it’s more than just the appearance of it?” There was an intense earnestness in his expression that held my attention, he seemed to say more with his eyes than he did with his mouth for once in his life. 

“Then we need to talk about it because this whole idea is the adult equivalent of playing with your mother’s wand.” The practical part of me was swimming in every consequence to myself if we followed through with this. Which, admittedly was minimal, I was a valuable political asset. My real concern was Percy’s career. “This could cost one or both of us our jobs! Is that something you want to risk?” 

Percy winced and glanced around before taking a sip of beer, the mug returning to the wood table with a clink and a sigh, before looking into my eyes over the rim of his glasses with a faint smile. “I’m just going to say it.” That seemed to be more directed at himself than me. “I think you’re worth the risk.”

I blinked, feeling a lot of things but mostly… confusion. I was not worth time to my family. I was not worth attention unless something was needed of me, like my smiling face to look adoringly at my father for the press. This felt radically different than any of that.

Or he was diseased, perhaps my fake cold was contagious and fried his brain. 

“I never pegged you as willing to risk your job for a date.”

“That’s…” The tips of his ears were as red as his hair which made me smile. “I would not ask if I thought this would be a casual thing. I’ve thought a lot about this over the last couple of weeks, we don’t have to say anything about it to anyone unless we think it’s becoming serious.”

There was a moment where I could break all of this apart or encourage it. Though, I could not deny that I had been toying with the same ideas that he had over the last couple of weeks, perhaps more as a form of dread, ready to turn him down but I could not utter the words to do so. A little voice inside of me wanted and wondered. 

“What if it does? Become serious I mean? I mean, I don't think I want to stay with the Ministry forever and I’m willing to transfer out to another department or Elihu could help me find a job with the embassy if one of us has to leave.”

I imagined quitting the Ministry or transferring to another department and it tasted like sugar on my tongue, but the threat of Jack held me in that office. As odd as it was to talk in hypotheticals, if this went forward we needed to have this talk now.

“You treat this like a business transaction.”

“It kind of is. We’re in a… very unusual position. We don’t get to make impulsive decisions like this without thinking it over and knowing how it could shake out later.”

Percy nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’ve been thinking about it, and about you, for a long time.”

I felt myself blush, but my brain kept working. “I still don’t think you’ve answered my question about what brought this on. You live a very safe life.”  

“It’s a lot of things.”

“What’s the easy one?”

Percy leaned back in his seat for a moment, adjusting his glasses and glancing around at the No-Majs nearby before he leaned forward to resume talking. "Scrimgeour is… underhanded."

"He's a politician, Percy, were you expecting anything different?"

"No, but I didn't expect it to turn in my direction."

"What do you mean?"

He fiddled with the napkin dispenser straightening it to a precise angle before speaking again.

"He used me as an excuse to go to my parents' home to speak with Harry Potter on Christmas."

My mouth fell open. I guess I was not the only one with connections that the Minister would exploit. It was hard to use me that way, nothing could be sprung on me like that because of the problems of international travel. Scrimgeour had to tell me in advance, but it gave me room to plan and sabotage his plans. Percy was so desperate for approval that applying pressure was really more of a matter of how much and when.

I guess Scrimgeour had learned something from screwing up with me.

Oops.

"So, what happened? I doubt Scrimgeour was subtle."

"He wasn't."

Oh, it's bad when Percy can tell. 

"He said I wanted to see them, I didn't and still don't. Then he left me alone with my family, getting Potter to give him a tour of the garden or some such nonsense." Percy rolled his eyes, his glasses sliding down his nose slightly.

"From what I understand of the matter, I don't imagine this was a warm reception."

My thoughts drifted to my meeting with Jack and I wrung my hands under the table out of Percy's sight before playing with my bracelets, the slight clinks audible more in my mind than in my ears.

"No. The twins and my sister flung parsnips at me like a bunch of hooligans and I didn't stay after that." He was turning a vivid pink with anger at the memory.

Throwing food. How childish. 

Though it seemed preferable to the literal screaming matches I grew up with. At least a person could avoid parsnips, unlike a child trying to get away from the noise. I could still hear my parents' voices echoing up the staircase if I really thought about it. In all honesty, I would have rather avoided flying vegetables than the snide comments from Vanessa.

I decided not to press the matter. My understanding of familial love was more focused on sibling dynamics. Even if I was not speaking with Jack, I wanted Annette to know I cared about her. She's a child, I had no care to turn her into a pawn or used as one against me. I would not do what Alex had done, just left me without a word in the years that followed nor could I imagine doing that to my siblings, isolating them in cold circumstances of politics and filial piety. 

Though, Annette had never written back to me. She's twelve though, I don't expect her to, I just want her to know I'm someone she can reach out to if it's ever needed, that my problems with our family have nothing to do with her. I'm sure after I left Byrgen House, a lot of mud was slung and I don't expect a child to pick through it when they still looked at their parents as right in all things.

"I'm sorry that happened. You haven't said much about your family to me, but it doesn't sound too different from mine. Granted, my family doesn’t throw perfectly good vegetables at each other."

I did not think this incident alone would be enough to force a radical change in his views of the personnel handbook.

“What else happened?”

“The Minister finished his meeting with Potter, I can only imagine it went as well as mine, proceeds to thank me for my time before inviting me to his home for Christmas dinner.”

“Are you kidding?”

Percy shook his head. “I’m not.”

“What happened there?”

“I surprised myself. I was sitting in a room where people wanted to hear what I had to say and all I could think about was everything that transpired over the last hour to get me to that table and realized that I was only there because the Minister wanted to speak with Potter and my mother would open the door for me so he could make an alliance with the supposed chosen one.” He glanced around, leaning closer to me. I moved my mug of beer aside and he mirrored the action. “I don’t like being used that way, but we both know that’s an inevitability.”

"Do you think that Potter is some sort of chosen one?" I asked, my voice low. "It seems very… I don't know. Burdensome for a child."

"Which is why I don't believe it," Percy stated pointedly, his attention focused on me. “The Daily Prophet is just trying to sell papers. Do you believe it?”

I paused, something tugging at my memories of something I read many years ago about famous heroes and the seers who made them. Another memory overtook it quickly of a strange man in tattered garb who would come into the MACUSA atrium with a sign about the end times while screaming about the rise of a dark wix of terrible power in the years to come whose end would come only by one born of death. 

‘The end is nigh! Soon he will come! Clad in power bought by sacrifice! Their wicked souls purge the land in fear and blood! One born of death brings the final grace!’ 

He was quickly escorted out. Just another crazy New Yorker. 

“I don’t. The ability to see the future with such clarity is a rare gift and most who claim it tend to be charlatans… Or in desperate need of help. Though, historically there were a few shamans who were able to open their inner eye without the inborn gift of prophecy, what they had were personal visions of a potential future, not the spoken word of a trueborn seer.” 

“Scrimgeour does believe the Potter rumor to some extent, but only enough for politics. I just find it a desperate action to ensure he continues to have support.”

“Scrimgeour is blatant in his intentions if you know how to look for it.”

“Like you do.”

“I’m sorry?” 

Play dumb, Audrey.

Percy raised an eyebrow and I wondered where exactly this conversation was going. “The Minister wanted to use you as a proxy to meet the MACUSA President, a cousin you interned for.”

I nodded, praying that Percy was stuck on that path and not open to more flexible, plausible ideas as to why I specifically was singled out for that and not the formal channel of Elihu Weathers. 

“And you managed to avoid it.”

“Yes. Is that why you wanted to talk?”

“Yes and no.”

“You still haven’t explained why this discussion required dinner.”

“Right, we’ve wandered off the topic now haven’t we.” Percy smiled at me and the world seemed to stop for a moment. Some part of me already knew the reason, but I wanted to hear it from him if we were going to do something so against his nature and our shared better judgment. “I realized that if I’m going to be used that way, then maybe the man’s not worth the respect I thought he was. That we could have targets on our backs merely for working where we do and if anything happens, I don’t want to dwell on my regrets about not exploring this thing between us. You’re sensible, kind and one of the best sources of intelligent conversation I have on a regular basis. If you think it’s a bad idea and we shouldn’t do anything, we can go back to how things were between us with no hard feelings and I’ll never mention it to you again.”

I might be insane. I have every reason to say that this should not go forward, that we need to turn back the clock and forget all of this. I’ll only make the target on you bigger if word gets out. This is against every bit of good judgment I have ever exercised! My father has a file on you! 

“I…” My stomach spun and my mouth was moving without much input from my brain. “I think I would like to see where this goes too.” 

His smile lit up his face in a way that reminded me of the sun and somewhere under the fear of potential futures, something seemed to click into place.

Oo0Oo0

Percy bid me farewell half an hour later in a dank, smelly alley that was one of the apparition points for Diagon Alley and the Leaky Cauldron. It was not a romantic location, but a sensible one to leave quickly before whatever forces stalked the night and shadows of the world these days could come and snatch away whatever new thing was growing between the two of us with a curse that could rip away all promises and potential. 

I stepped into the alleyway next to my apartment with light steps as if I were floating on a cloud, though that could have just been the post apparition high of fresh oxygen. The risk of entanglement with my coworker was still frightening but my stomach was fluttering about out of a combination of joy and anxiety. Were we playing with fire by engaging in a relationship outside of work? Absolutely. Were we both smart enough to keep it quiet until we got to the point where we would have to report it and one of us changed jobs? I believed so. Percy and I were both very motivated to keep anything between us very quiet, both as individuals and as a team.

Though the threat of being outed as the daughter of a prominent MACUSA figure was still heavy on my mind. I could go work at the embassy, make the shift to the private sector or work from home as an editor for a time if need be. Valencia had made me an intriguing offer to edit for her paper if I was ever in need or even just to freelance while I was still at the Ministry.

"Miss Graves," A deep voice said from behind me as a faint pop echoed through the alley, making my blood run cold.

I turned quickly, my hand on my wand as stories of murder I had read in the paper over previous months flashed through my mind as quickly as spells Lucinda had been teaching me. I was five steps away from the mouth of the alley! Could I run? Should I fight? 

Two men stood before me, one was a grizzled middle age, a scar on his cheek just under his left eye that looked like a fish hook. The second was a young man with blonde hair and a stubborn, confident expression.

They wore the crossed wand pin of the MACUSA Aurors on their lapels.

My wand lowered slightly, my previous joy disintegrating to a simmering rage.

"What do you want?"

"Your father wants you to return home." The older man said firmly. I was sure I knew this man from somewhere, a picture in the paper maybe? That scar was distinctive… Kaz Kacmar! He was the Auror who tracked down a religious cult in Texas about ten years ago, implemented No-Maj cult deprogramming techniques into law enforcement and saved the previous president from an assassination attempt at a political speech about five years ago. The cult incident was where he got the scar. 

I was struggling to recognize the apprentice Auror, but he looked young, young enough for me to have perhaps crossed paths with him at Ilvermorny. He couldn't be much older than me. Wait a second. Gerald Hodges. He is only about four years older than me, he used to play Quadpot for our house team and was considered a star player who could have gone to the minor leagues. I guess he wanted to serve the country instead.

"I've already given Jack my views on that and informed the Embassy." My body was shaking with barely suppressed rage, remaining mindful that we were in public and attention was the last thing wanted at this point as my memory of the formal refusal of service of Auror protection rattled around my head. “I decline. I decline! I decline!”

The Aurors looked thunderstruck, Kacmar raising his hand to protest before I swiftly cut him off.

“No, you listen to me! I have the right to refuse protection, so go back to the States, go back to MACUSA, I want nothing more to do with Jack Graves and his political ambitions!” With every refusal, I felt my spine straightening and melding itself like steel. “I will not be returning home and there is no reason for you to stay!”

The younger Auror stepped forward, one hand reaching out towards me while his other hand rested on his wand. 

I stepped back and raised my wand in turn, imitating the stance that Lucinda had taught me over the last several months of lessons. "I've been polite Hodges, you put a hand on me that will change very quickly."

Hodges stepped back, his hands up in an effort to pacify me.

Being angry was an easy thing, it centered me. Focused me. The words were in my mind, resting on my tongue. I knew the words. I had learned them during my time at home, recited them in anger and desperation for a life I knew I wanted.

“I, Audrey Constance Graves, being of sound mind and body, decline the service offered by the Magical Congress.” The tip of my wand glowed as I spoke, smells of a fresh running river assaulted my senses as the rings of light emerged like wisps of smoke. “I invoke my rights to privacy and independent life under the laws enshrined within the constitution and amendments therein, demanding the rights ordained and promised to me by birth and governing law.” The mist took the color of sun bleached bone. “I vow to do no harm to MACUSA or the Statute of Secrecy, to decline positions of leadership for foreign powers as long as I remain a citizen of the United States.” The bones rattled, clanking together in a hollow symphony of promises and old magic. “I release you from your bond, your duty and obligation to me as a First Daughter.” The bones clinked together so loudly it made my teeth ache to finish. “Solve vincula, quae nos vetusto iureiurando ligant. So mote it be.” 

Hodges was tightlipped while his senior partner nodded slowly. 

“We accept your declaration and will trouble you no further.” Kacmar inclined his head, his blond hair falling in front of his face before he straightened himself. "Best of luck to you Miss Graves."

"We'll give your regards to your father," Hodges made an effort to smile and make this whole encounter less awkward. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter. "I was asked to deliver this when we found you."

I wanted to tell him not to bother with my father, but the magic I had invoked had sent tingling up my arm and through the rest of my body like sparks of lightning as my hair stood on end. Instead I nodded my head as I took the envelope and watched them leave as I wrung it in my hands.

The last ghost of my father's influence disappeared from my sight at last and a weight I had not known I was carrying finally disappeared.

I could only hope that my desperate snatching at independence would not bite me in the ass.

I opened the envelope slowly, if it was important I would have to excuse myself to handle it and would need every valuable second to come up with a good excuse as much as it would pain me to do so.

Audrey, 

Please come home. I'm worried about you. 

Annie

P.S.

I loved the Fever Fudge.

I froze, my hands shaking as I reread this short missive from my sister. 

"Oh, Annette."

She couldn't exactly fling parsnips at me from across the ocean, so instead she decided to nudge the door open a little further than I had left it. 

Chapter Text

January 4, 1997

I have been good at keeping up with my journaling over the last several months. Nothing exciting. Reports on my day to day life, my opinions on various news articles that I had taken from the paper about the war, alongside sections that were just me waxing poetic about Percy - Which I immediately hid with a concealing charm because I managed to embarrass myself. If anyone ever finds and unspells my journal I better be dead because I will die of shame!

Or change my name and go to Australia.

It's the scariest place I can think of.

I mean, platypuses live there and they're just… Cute but unnatural.

I had to stop thinking. Really, my thoughts were generally ridiculous.

I was about to go into Knockturn Alley with a proud, prickly werewolf who loved my brother despite the catlike personality shared by the pair. I had to be alert. On my guard.

Nothing could go wrong tonight.

The hair on my arms stood up and my heart threatened to beat free of my chest. I was going to see my brother for the first time in six years! It was like a dream. The darkness of Knockturn Alley seemed to beckon me with promises of what the future would be. A dinner with my brother, perhaps a late holiday celebration? Oh, what would we talk about? I didn't want to immediately put my seeing someone in his lap, he has been gone for six years after all and has no right to be protective or obnoxious.

A distinctive click of iron on stone from behind me caught my attention.

I was several inches taller than Thalia, but something in the way she carried herself gave her the air of a giant. It could make me envious, this ability to call attention and keep it, not from beauty, but from conviction and ferocity. Thalia was a woman who could lead if people would look past her… condition.

"I wasn't sure you would show up."

“I’m not a coward.”

“Heh,” Thalia’s amused grin was predatory and seemed to gleam despite the dark of the late evening. “Could have fooled me.”

I felt my jaw set in annoyance. Thalia was such an arrogant creature at times.

“Shall we be off then? I have to meet with a supplier before I take you to the Tunnels.”

“I thought we were going to Knockturn Alley?” I followed Thalia as she limped down into Knockturn Alley, her cane tapping on the cobblestone as she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head.

“We are, but the Tunnels are our final destination. Pull your hood up and don’t talk to anyone. Remember what I said in my letter?”

That I was a pretty target. That many people here were dangerous. That the rest were desperate and I would stand out and be remembered if I spoke up at all due to my still heavy accent.

It was like the Byrgen House all over again.

“Yes. I remember.” I adjusted my cloak, pulling my hood forward to better hide my face and fixing the dingy gray robes I had gotten from a secondhand shop last week for this excursion. I had been told to be inconspicuous, that my usual attire made me look like a Ministry official and that was not acceptable in the places we would be going tonight.

“Good. Stay close to me.” She hobbled into the alley with me close behind.

It grew dark quickly as we descended away from the lights of Diagon Alley and became hidden to the view of the stars. The street was cold and dark, full of shifty figures that lurked in the shadows, clad in heavy cloaks and whispers of things I had no understanding of, matters dark and dangerous.

I was not sure I would be able to tell anyone about this, Lucinda and Tavish would wring my neck. Misty and Zara would throw me out the window of their apartment like a quaffle. Percy… Well, I was not sure how he would react if I told him about this. He might end this very new relationship or fall to the floor stone dead. Frankly, I did not like any of these presented options, so it would be best to never mention the specifics of this to another living soul.

I would come up with something to satisfy Lucinda and force Alex to agree to it before he saw her again.

There was something to be said for little white lies that truly did not hurt anybody.

Thalia proved herself to be an exceptional guide through the twisting street of dingy shops that sold a manner of unusual things that I presumed to be dark in nature and intent. A man who was twisted like a tree sat on the step outside of a shop called Drakes and watched us pass with hard eyes that pierced through me with a cold dread. I rested my fingertips on my wand, waiting for the whistling noise that would alert me to danger I could not see in front of me. My wand remained silent and I felt myself relax slightly.

I was frightened, but there was no threat to me at present.

We passed a small group of hags, gossiping together in the dark with sharp teeth and customary warts on their faces and hands. One was barefoot despite the winter weather, the four toes customary to her species on full display despite the cold as she warmed them by a small jar of fire.

"The Tunnels are down this alley here." Thalia pointed down a thin, damp alley that barely had enough room for us to pass through one at a time. It sloped down to a place far darker where I could see only the barest outline of a door.

Ugh. Creepy.

"Is there another way?"

"There is, but this one will take us right into the Undercroft." Thalia stepped forward and squeezed herself into the passage, appearing more stuffed than I anticipated. "C'mon!"

"Undercroft?" I asked as I squeezed myself in behind her, shimmying along the walls that pressed against my shoulders as we moved. The close walls kept me from sliding down on whatever muck was under my feet. There was no answer from Thalia until she reached the door at the end of the passage and pushed it open with her cane and strolled inside as if she owned the place. I continued to follow, an immense relief of feeling free of the compressing walls that I could feel closing around me as if to keep me in this place through entrapment.

Thalia tapped the bricks in a steady rhythm and pattern with her cane before tapping the lone stone head of a wizard with a long beard and a chipped nose.

"Password?" The statue croaked, its voice grainy with a lack of use.

"Tombstone."

The statue closed, its eyes and the blank wall opened to reveal a set of twisting stairs that led deeper into an oppressive darkness that closed my throat in dread and excitement.

Thalia gave a mocking bow as if she were a stage performer, "After you."

I lit my wand and stepped into the darkness, allowing it to swallow me on what could easily be my descent into hell.

The stairs creaked and groaned with each step, making me wince and mutter prayers for the first time in ten years. Don't let me fall through the stairs, it's a long way to the bottom. I'll find a reputable charity to donate to if I can see my brother tonight. Please let this turn out right for once.

After what felt like an eternity my feet hit something solid and I released the breath I had been unconsciously holding. I turned to give Thalia an extra bit of light as she lumped down the last few stairs with her usual, unfazed expression as she brushed her fly away hairs back behind her ears.

Thalia pointed down the tunnel where there was light at the end that echoed with elated shouts and cries of excitement.

"Welcome to the Undercroft."

"How is all of this under London?"

"London is a very old city, it's been destroyed and rebuilt many times. It's full of secrets because we keep rebuilding on the ashes."

"So, this is an old part of the city then? Like the catacombs in Paris?"

"Right! A subterranean underground for people who tire of judgment. If you need anything the Ministry can't find out about, it's here." Thalia froze, seemingly remembering who she was talking to.

"I do not care what you all do in your free time. I have no desire to attain clout in that way. Your secret is safe with me just like your other one."

Thalia nodded, turning to assess me with new eyes as we stepped into the light.

The roar of the crowd became overwhelming as we entered the space. The tunnel we entered through closed behind us as if it had never been there at all. I found myself looking down upon an arena in a medium sized pit where illegal duels were taking place for the entertainment of the crowd. A display of flashing lights made the cold stone of the room almost warm and inviting with the crowd of fifty roaring encouragement to the participants that sounded of continuous white noise to my ears.

The woman duelist moved her wand in a manner that was elegantly aggressive, fast and certain, the very manner that Lucinda had been trying to instill in me for months. She avoided a blood boiling hex with a quick turn, retaliating with a flock of canaries that burst from the tip of her wand, blinding her enemy with the sheer number she had produced before hitting him with a stunner to the chest. The witch held her wand aloft in victory as the crowd truly erupted in crows of triumph and I found myself swept away, applauding her cunning victory.

"Alex won't be here for an hour yet and I believe I see my supplier in that nook over there." Thalia pointed away from the arena towards something on the other side of the crowd. It took me a moment to see what she was pointing at, a collection of small stalls with curtains draped over the entrances while items on jars were on display on small tables in front to entice visitors. “C’mon, Shaw’s a creep, but he sells things I can’t get legally for my potions.”

Thalia took off at an energetic limp and nudged her way through the crowd that was beginning to amble away from the arena until the next match, a bookie calling out for fresh bets on the next match as he dolled out the winnings to the lucky few.

It was a small nook, the kind of thing I would label a shack with its heavy covers and dark interior. I was ushered inside quickly before I could ask Thalia if she had the right place.

While Thalia spoke with her supplier, a man called Shaw who had an assortment of plants, I had been granted permission to wander around his shop to see his wares. It was an odd place, tight and cramped with an assortment of plants that I recognized to be heavily regulated by the Ministry of Magic for reasons varying from dangerous to being dangerous cross breeds that had not been approved by the import office yet, or ever.

Though, Shaw also had something else of interest.

The snake was large, almost five feet long with scales in varying shades of orange and brown, trapped in a cage that allowed the three heads to pop out from between the bars to flash their fangs. I watched the snake closely while Thalia spoke with the shop owner. The six glimmering yellow eyes held my attention as if I was hypnotized, I had never seen a runespoor before and I never expected to see one with all three heads intact, it was common for the left and center heads to grow tired of the cynical head and bite it off. They would live for a time after this action, but cynic offered the council the other two heads, the planner and the visionary, a grounded base to stop them from doing stupid things.

It seemed a metaphor for human nature in a way.

Thalia was speaking quietly to the shop owner, I disliked him more as time went on. He tended to leer in my direction, eyes moving over me slowly as if I were a piece of meat.

‘We should escape this place,’ the center head spoke, it’s hiss commanding and vibrant. ‘We could return to the forest.’

The left head spoke next, its hiss quiet. ‘We need to take the keys.’

‘Fool!’ The right head sounded gravelly, like an old man who was hard to surprise. ‘We would need hands for that to work!’

The left head whipped around to face the right head with narrowed yellow eyes while the center head followed suit with an equally peevish expression. ‘You’ve never had nothing good to say in any situation!’

‘Such is my nature. Yours is one of false hopes and airy ideas.’

I looked back at Thalia and the shopkeeper who were deeply engrossed in their discussion about ingredients in the makeshift storeroom while Thalia continued to barter.

The left head spoke, a cool intent in its words. ‘Maybe we could do something if we were two instead of three?’

Oh I did not want to see a murder today!

“Perhaps I can help?” Parseltongue felt foreign and strange on my tongue, like a coat that was too small and too big all at once. Like it was a second skin that was itching with the need to shed for whatever new form lay underneath.

I had not knowingly spoken parseltongue in years, I was twelve and needed to protect a Herbology project and enlisted some small garden snakes to keep the bugs out of my corner of the greenhouse using rocks with warming charms on them as a form of payment. The herbology teacher praised me for my little moment of cleverness. When I had done this, it could hardly have been called an intentional act. I had stayed late to try and save my plants, the little voices catching my attention. When I looked at the garden snake, my snide little complaints escaped my throat as something other than English. I had been able to dismiss the incident at the zoo as my imagination in the years since the event, but that moment told me otherwise.

There were different kinds of parselmouths in the world, most were only able to understand the snakes, like Isolt Sayre, and often taught themselves how to speak properly by bonding with a serpent of higher intelligence and magical origin and sometimes not even that would take. If a snake could not be found to act as a teacher for those who wished to embrace their ability, a career in wildlife protection was the next best thing for that kind of education, it would expose speakers to the wilderness and wildlife protection worked closely with many indigenous communities or cultural groups who were more accepting of the ability. There were some like me in the world who could speak to snakes without training, it was just something inborn to who we were as wix.

I made sure Shaw and Thalia were out of sight before quickly removing the lock on the cage with a spell, catching the iron in my hand and setting it down on the floor near the cage but out of sight so it would look as if it was not put on properly.

"There! Maybe now you can leave tonight."

There were noises of thanks from the three heads, who for once seemed to be in agreement.

I looked away to find Thalia staring at me with something akin to horror in her eyes.

“Rannulf,” Shaw stepped out from the door where he kept the more sensitive plants, holding a bag containing Thalia’s selections. “Always a pleasure.”

“Thank you, Shaw.” Thalia took it quickly, her expression forcing itself to something closer to her more neutral, regular expression before facing me once more. “I'll see you in a few weeks."

Thalia hobbled towards the door, her wolfish gaze upon me, wordlessly telling me to follow her.

She led me away from the stalls, away from the crowd and made sure we were alone before she spoke, her voice low.

"You're a Parseltongue!"

"I…" Any response I may have had froze in my throat.

"You think I'm a monster and you hide a forked tongue behind your teeth?" Thalia smiled darkly, her eyes seeming to glimmer in the dark or maybe that was my own imagination. "Well, well, well, pot meets kettle indeed."

“I’d not call it the same thing.”

“Oh, I think it is,” she leaned on her cane, her thumb moving over the snout of the wolf head handle. “How many people would crucify you as a dark witch if they found out? The same people who would do the same to me for existing.”

I bit my lower lip. I knew the truth of her words, even without truly understanding it.

“Two completely different things!”

"What about Potter?" Thalia's voice was a whisper and I felt myself begin to shake. "I’m sure you heard about the press eviscerating the boy over the fact that he can talk to snakes, and that was before everyone thought he was crazy. They'll do worse to you. The daughter of a MACUSA leader living overseas in a country where some snake looking freak is trying to kill us all. You're too smart to have not given that consideration."

I was sure I understood that far better than Thalia could ever imagine.

“They say You-Know-Who has a snake. That he speaks to it in its own language. That he may be one of the last true parseltongues since those inbred Gaunts who claimed to be descendants of Slytherin himself.”

I froze. I had heard that Voldemort could speak to snakes, I heard Harry Potter could as well after I first began to work at the Ministry. I had long wondered what it would be like to meet another Parseltongue.

“Parseltongue is rare, but you don’t have a lot of snakes in this country. I imagine some people could go their whole lives without knowing they could do it.”

I had never spoken about my ability openly. I mentioned it to Jack as a child, but he only told me to be quiet because it would upset my mother. In Jack's defense, he was probably correct. Alex never said a word about it, just threw an arm over my shoulder as we continued through the zoo. I understood the reaction and the silence more as I got older. It was a way to protect the family’s reputation and myself from a society that would not react kindly to a prominent family showing what was often considered in many circles to be a stereotypical idea of dark magic. I could not even be sure my father remembered anything about it.

“Very logical.”

“The US is a bit more accepting, people who can talk to snakes have a place out west where most of our venomous snakes are. Parseltongue shows up in the tribes once in a while, occasionally in those of African descent and some Indian immigrants brought it over with them when they were being persecuted by the British Ministry during colonization.”

These groups who valued the ability were not treated well by our very Eurocentric culture, while we had been more accepting in many ways then our No-Maj counterparts, the idea of parseltongue and its dark connotations were a thing that was shared through various european immigrants and permeated the dominant culture of Magical America. There were incidents when America was really becoming a powerful country, dark wizards and fast spreading rumors mixed in with the truth of what a dark wix was in this new, wild country and often that added stories of serpentine servants. America was a dangerous country in many ways, having allies in unusual and unexpected places was often a boon and those who could speak to snakes never really mentioned it, because even wildmen have to return to society for a time.

“Why keep it quiet if America is so accepting?”

“It’s not… common or accepted outside of some very unique circles, some religious groups and the like. Parselmouths are always regarded with suspicion, and those who have the ability generally don’t mention it.”

Dark and dirty were words I heard whispered about the serpent tongued while I was growing up. A politician my father worked with once openly stated on the floor of the Senate that the parselmouth registry law from the 1800’s should be reinstated because the craft is clearly a sign of a powerful dark wix and the speakers needed to be watched. He was immediately shouted down as a racist.

My father was one of ten senators from his party who voted against the motion to enact the process to restore the registry, breaking what would have been a tie along mostly party lines, which was a bit out of step for his politics, though I had wondered occasionally if it was for more reasons than a presidential run he was already considering.

Thalia looked at me with a discerning eye as she adjusted her cloak..

“Maybe we have more in common than I thought, we’re both creatures of darkness in society’s eyes no matter how you look at it.”

She wasn't wrong. It felt like there was a bridge of sorts being built between us off the shared perceptions of the world. A wiser, more generous person may have been able to see Thalia as someone who would have understood the fear of a dark secret being released into the world if I had not been so overcome by my own prejudice during our first meeting.

I could hide what I was, Thalia never truly could.

"You're right." I paused, deliberating over my thoughts and trying to organize them to coherence with care.

"Glad we're starting to see eye to eye."

"And I'm sorry."

Thalia looked at me with a wide eyed expression. Her usual skepticism and brash speech laid aside for a confused kind of silence.

"For what?"

"When we met, I was frightened of what you are and made assumptions about you because of a condition you can't hide and should not define you in any case. I should have looked at you as a person, not with fear and not as a monster in the way I have been taught. I am the worst kind of hypocrite."

"Yes. Yes, you are."

She smiled, but it was no longer something I found gleaming and predatory, it was a teasing kind of smile that leant itself to a gentler interpretation of her character. A distant, but warm personality beneath a layer of hurt and contradiction who wore a veil of friendly mockery and I suddenly understood how my brother had fallen for this woman. Alex had been able to see the heart of Thalia Rannulf when I was only able to see the werewolf.

When Thalia and I had finished talking, the time arrived at last. She pointed directed me down a wide alley off the stall row and told me she would be along shortly and we deserved a few minutes together.

I found myself doing as Thalia bid and walking alone down this alleyway, my heart fluttering and stomach twisting into knots.

A figure staggered out of the shadows, their cloak making them shapeless and wraithlike, a faint red glow from the vicinity of their mouth.

“Alex…!”

The man turned, yanking down his hood to look at me with a wide eyed expression, a lit cigarette between his lips.

"Audrey?"

He looked older than I had last seen him, more like a man than a boy. The last of the puppy fat had left his face long ago and the five o’clock shadow lined his jaw and cheeks in a dark gray that made him look the part of a busy, stressed out journalist. His eyes were the same steely gray I remembered and the errant lock of black hair was still flying in the opposite direction of the rest of his hair that was quickly falling to a stark gray with a hint of silver that would take its place on his temple in the next five years or so.

Alex had always been tall, thin and looked like a younger version of our father if I went by the pictures I had seen of Jack at a similar age. Though Alex's eyes were different from Jack's, a different shape and color, something more Ainsley than Graves, but his stance and posture reminded me very strongly of our father. He was thin. Worn in his face in expression with lines from stress at the corners of his eyes that made him look older than his twenty eight years.

I wanted to throw my arms around him at this moment, but I drew my wand instead. The knowledge of what my brother had been doing over these long months and years left me cautious and pushing myself to logical decisions.

“What are you doing here?” Alex exclaimed, his voice waspish and raspy from the dust of the alley, slightly clipped from the cigarette between his teeth. He pulled out his wand and looked at me with a stern, tense expression.

“Hello to you too, Alex.” I breathed as I took in my brother for the first time in six years.

“Who gave me my favorite quill?”

“I did, it was a graduation present. What was the name of my childhood teddy bear?"

"Mr. Stuffington, do you still sleep with that thing?"

I felt my face color, the answer was no but I had slept with Mr. Stuffington until I left for Ilvermorny. He made the trip with me of course, but he became a fixture on my desk and guardian of my freshly made bed. He was in my apartment now, sitting on my dresser in a badly crocheted scarf I had made for him when I attempted to take up the craft at fourteen.

I shook my head, trying to hold back the bubble of laughter that threatened to escape my chest but not being entirely successful.

Our wands lowered, returning to our sleeve pockets or holsters and I could no longer contain myself. I closed the distance between us and threw my arms around his neck in a hug I had waited six years for.

Alex's arms flailed for a moment, the force of my impact unbalancing him for a moment. He took more than a few shocked seconds to put his arms around me in turn as I buried my face in his chest, taking in the familiar smell of sparkers cigarettes that clung to his clothes. Alex had been a borderline heavy smoker since before he left the house, sparkers had a smokey sharp smell with a sweet undertone. I allowed myself a moment to take it in.

"I've been trying to find you for over a year." I muttered into his black robes. "I missed you."

"Yeah, me too." He squeezed me tightly before we stepped apart. Alex looked down at me with an expression too tired for a man of his age. Though, I supposed being close to the heart of war was an exhausting endeavor.

"Valencia is worried about you," I started quietly. "She asked me to deliver a message since you've been unplottable for a year."

"You spoke with Val?"

"And Thalia too.”

There was something in Alex’s smile at the mention of Thalia’s name that softened him for a moment and made him look his age.

“Val thinks you need to give this up because it's too dangerous to continue and frankly I agree with her."

"I'm getting close, I'm gaining their trust and I can't stop now.”

“Gaining their trust?” I repeated slowly as Alex gave a tired smile.

“Fascists are stupid. Especially if they’re Purists too. If you say the right things at the right time they will think you’re one of them without too much effort. Hell, these clowns are so focused on bloodstatus and this ‘pureblood superiority’ rhetoric I merely mentioned I was a pureblood, said some disgusting things and they welcomed me right in.”

Grandma Ophelia was a Seed, a muggle-born to use the local vernacular. Grandpa Atticus often said she was a woman of steely will because she had to leave most of her life behind for the call of magic. Something that he very much respected. She had been dead for five years, but Atticus was still wistful over her memory.

I was not sure how this calibration for pureblood really worked, but no one was going to check an American family tree. That would involve industrious effort and being physically in America.

“And, what did you tell them? About Jack?”

Alex bit down on his cigarette, a hard look in his eyes. “I said he was a cousin. Used it to build my story to get in with these people.”

“Why?” My voice was low and firm. “Surely, you have more than enough information by now to put these people away? To write whatever article you want to write about it? We’re at war with them now!”

Alex was quiet, his demeanor grim. “I don’t think the Ministry is going to win this war, Aud.”

“Why do you say that?” I took a step back as Alex took a long drag off his cigarette, blowing perfect rings of sparking blue smoke as he exhaled. “You’ve been off the grid for over a year.”

“Which is why I don’t think they’re going to win. The only hope this country has against a powerful warlock is a teenage boy and I must admit that the idea does not instill confidence.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“They’ve left it too long, I’ve met the people being recruited to this nightmare and these are not just mindless sycophants at the core of this.” Alex blew more smoke before speaking again. “I saw the Dark Lord.”

I felt myself grow cold.

“Not up close, there was a gathering and I happened to talk my way in. When he walked into the room, I never felt anything like it in my life. I’ve met powerful wix, but not like this. Remember Sarah Maka?”

“She defeated a dark arts practitioner in the seventies. She’s from the Sioux tribe right?”

Alex nodded, “I met her during a lecture before I left for London. Powerful wix have an air about them, it makes your hair stand on end. Sarah Maka has it, and I would be willing to bet she is the most powerful wix in America at this moment, but Voldemort is something else entirely.” Alex took a deep breath. “He walked into the room and it was like I had been electrocuted and he was yards away from me. The power he has just fills the room.”

I gulped and wrung my hands quietly as Alex looked down at me. I gathered myself to say things my brother may not wish to hear.

“You… Sound a bit enamored by this power he holds.”

“There’s a difference between being enamored and respecting something.” Alex gave me a hard stare, his eyes bore into mine with a stern intent. “So what are you doing these days?”

I did not think this reunion was going very well. “I had a fight with dad and came here. I met Lucinda, she does miss you and I think she’s worried in her way, and stayed with her for a while when I started work at the Ministry.” Alex gave me a look. “I have a flat now! I pay my own rent.”

“The Ministry huh?”

I nodded, “The Minister’s office isn’t too bad.”

“So you basically left one political lap for another.”

“Don’t be crass.”

“It’s not crass, Jack’s handling of Yellowstone was as useless as Scrimgeour handling this war.”

I agreed to an extent, but I needed to change tactics.

“Alex, you have to understand the danger you’re in if anyone finds out about Jack.”

Alex ground his jaw, his expression tight as he looked down at me the way our father did when I left Brygen House.

“If you get caught by the Ministry, you’ll be all over the news as a conspirator! An accomplice to Voldemort! MACUSA will not help you! Elihu Weathers may be my friend, but he will not pull springs to keep you out of Azkaban.”

“So it’s just politics with you is it?” Alex scoffed, “You sound just like Jack. I was afraid he got his claws into you and I guess I was right!”

I was going to ignore how much that stung.

“This isn’t about that at all!” I was trembling. I gripped my robes to steady myself as I pressed forward. “Those people are going to hurt you, use you in ways I can’t even comprehend, and we won’t be able to help you if you keep shutting us all out!” The words poured from me like a cloud burst.

“Do you think I don’t know the risks of what I do? When this is over, I will educate people about these purists so that we can begin to put an end to the concept of blood purity for good! And you think it’s not worth the risk?”

“It’s a brave, noble thing you’re trying to accomplish but please walk away from it and be content with what you have! Thalia misses you. Valencia is worried she’s sent you into something you can’t handle. I just want to have my brother back. I came here to find you so we could be a family again and you’re turning it into something it’s not.” I barely noticed the hitch in my voice. “You accuse me of politics as if it is a crime and not the reality of the situation.”

I could hear Thalia tapping her way up the alley behind me. She was moving quickly at the sound of our raised voices. I did not look away from my brother.

Thalia’s voice broke through the wall that was building between Alex and I with a stern, demanding tone that made the two of us snap to attention.

“What’s going on here?”

Alex’s eye moved to Thalia as she stepped into the low light. A look on his face that I imagined people wore when seeing the love of their life, an elation and warm joy that simmered under the surface. It put Alex in perspective for me in some ways. In this, Thalia held more power than I ever could to sway my brother, who clearly still believed me to be a child while I was beginning to see my brother’s ability to be a reckless fool.

“Hey Thalia,” Alex’s voice was quiet and anticipatory as he put out his cigarette, crushing it under his shoe. “It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”

“Worried sick over you.” She put a hand on her hip and looked up at Alex who moved towards her like a magnet to kiss her.

I looked anywhere and everywhere else only looking back when Thalia spoke again.

“It’s been a nightmare handling Greyback without knowing you’re somewhere to back me up.”

“Sorry, you know how it’s been.” He took a half-step away from her, they were still close enough for the other to touch if they felt so inclined. I could not help but think they would be if I was looking at them.

Thalia nodded, “Which is why I think you need to come home.”

“You too?”

“Alex, you’ve done more than you ever had too and the situation has been changing. Audrey is right. It’s too risky for you to continue.”

“Thalia, if I leave now, I’m going to lose out on information that could save people from being hurt. I can’t leave this half finished!”

“Then what does finished mean to you?” Thalia’s voice was low, “Does it mean you have put people away with evidence you’ve gathered over the last year and a half when this is done or that you're dead in a ditch somewhere?”

Alex took another step back, looking aghast at the fact his girlfriend and his sister were teaming up against him.

“We’re done talking about this. I’m doing the right thing and I can’t stop now!”

“You’re no different from the day you left.” My voice was sharp and rising in frustration. “Everything you do is to piss off our father! You’re not your own man, Alex! You’re as stuck in Jack’s shadow as I am!”

“How dare-!”

“AURORS!”

The tunnels echoed with screams from the Undercroft and the sounds of spellfire.

“ON THE GROUND! ON THE GROUND NOW!”

Alex swore and Thalia shifted closer to him as the noise grew louder. A herd of footsteps growing closer and more threatening.

“SNAKE!” A woman shrieked and I winced at the memory of the runespoor I had released from Shaw’s tiny shop. I guess he got out.

I forgot how to breathe as the people from the Undercroft turned down the alley and were running straight for us, blinded by their panic.

Alex shoved Thalia and I down a side alley before he disappeared from my sight in the swarm of bodies consuming my vision as Thalia yanked me away by my arm so hard I felt it move out away from the socket as more people ran into the narrow space we had found ourselves in.

"RUN!" Thalia’s voice was high as the war cries from law enforcement echoed off the stone and made me tremble and want to freeze like a rabbit only moving with Thalia's force of will. "RUN DAMMIT!"

I willed my feet to move.

Thalia and I pushed our way through the crowds, the oppression of the noise and the thick taste of dust and fear left me reeling. I was shoved and jostled. I grabbed Thalia to steady her when the force of the crowd shoved her into the wall with a teeth rattling force.

I helped Thalia find her balance and led her into another side alley nearby.

“We can’t go back out there,” I said with a shaking voice that I did not recognize. “We’ll get caught or crushed! Is there another way out?”

“C’mon!” Thalia grunted as she moved down the alley. “All these little tunnels are connected. We can find one to leave.”

“Why isn’t anyone else using them?”

“They’re panicking and heading for the big entrance which may have Aurors waiting outside of it. Humans are stupid animals, we just want to go with the crowd and be someplace familiar. We’re not panicking and therefore we will not be arrested today.”

I nodded slowly as I followed Thalia down the winding stone alley that seemed to press inward, growing closer to crush us between the stone walls. Thalia opened a passage in the wall by tapping several bricks, we stepped into the darkness and eventually into the open air of Knockturn Alley above.

Oo0Oo0

I staggered into my apartment, my knees weak from the horror of the evening and nearly being caught by the Aurors that would have cost me everything. It was the mindlessness of routine that moved me now, adrenaline got me home and the safety of home would allow me to think.

But I found my thoughts drifting to places I never wanted to be.

I was never enough. Never enough to get my brother to stay. Never enough for my mom to fight for herself. Why was I always second? No, I was never second, I was always last. A forgotten priority. Last on a list of more important things like power, social influence, righteous causes. Why was I never first?

I was not enough incentive for my brother to play nice with our father. To publish under a penname and have an anonymous career for a time, but no, he had to slam his name on the article to stir the pot and tell Jack Graves what he really thought of him and his allies without bluntly stating them to his face until the aftermath.

My mother was sick, terminal with illness and had mentally given up on living probably before I was born. I never remembered her as being happy. She wore a fake smile and was so distant and distracted when I tried to engage with her.

A child should not feel that way!

My mother hated those American virtue names but I ended up with one myself. I was supposed to be a constant presence, in the room but not engaged, a prop in a life of opulence and a stepping stone for promising aspiring politicians that my father approved of to introduce me too, an alliance of marriage where love would be secondary to my own security. Where I would have to play the demure wife and act as a trophy on a shelf, while ignoring my husband slipping off with a mistress or an intern for the good of the family values he was so likely to preach. Audrey Constance Graves was a pawn, easy to sacrifice on the way to a perceived victory because she was supposed to know her role.

Finally, my knees gave out and I fell to the floor, my face damp with tears and chest heaving as I struggled for air through my strangled cries.

My brother hated my father more than he loved me.

I cried when my mother died. I cried when Alex left after I was safely back at school.

My tears now were like a torrent of both events colluding and twisting in my chest as I began to sob.

Chapter Text

January 5, 1997

I had thought many times over the last several months that Lucinda was an incredible duelist for someone who had originally wanted to devote their life to the study of law. She was so stern that it was hard to imagine her being as creative as she was in this endeavor. I think she could have gone toe to toe with my father if she felt so inclined to act on her offense of his existence during his visit.

"Watch yer feet!"

I leapt back at Tavish's warning to fire a blinding hex at Lucinda as blue sparks crackled and smoked where I had been standing only moments before. 

Lucinda ducked down to retaliate with a stunner that beat my shield charm by a fraction of a second to hit me in the stomach and knock me to the ground with a muffled wheeze as the breath left my body like a fleeing rabbit. 

"Really, Tavish?"

"I didn’t care ta see da girl turn inta a magpie again."

"Magpies are a respectable sort of bird."

"'hey're a menace. Audrey came close ta teachin' 'erself ta fly las' time."

I wheezed quietly on the cold ground again before Tavish revived me with a quick spell. The cold air had made his face red and gave him the appearance of a kind of woodland Santa Claus.

"Alrigh' lass?"

"Yeah. Mostly." I took a deep breath and got to my feet again. "I've got another round in me."

Lucinda looked me up and down, assessing me in her way from the placement of my feet and the positioning of my arms and shoulders. She gave me a nod of approval and moved into an aggressive dueling stance. She peered at me over the edge of her glasses with a wry little smile.

"Quadpot is a foolish sport."

"I'm sorry?"

"You heard me. A simple sport for the simple minded."

Was she… was she trash talking my favorite sport?

“Quidditch is a spot for civilized wizards, not whatever those colonists invented in a drunken revelry of explosions and boredom.”

“Excuse me? Quadpot does not have seven hundred fouls to pull out of a hat, we have thirteen that are all clearly stated!”

Tavish was snickering somewhere to my left.

Lucinda smiled. "Good. Get angry. That's the one thing I have never seen from you. Angry at me for insulting America's silly sport, your brother for being, well, your brother. Try pretending I'm your father. I really don't care. I need you to find that place inside of you where the anger goes and grab hold of it."

Lucinda resumed her stance and I did my best to follow her advice. Annette finding and eating my stash of hidden candy in my bedroom. Pig. Vanessa's cutting comments about my lack of presence or sallow expressions, my crowish, grave, appearance. 

My father sniping at me during the fight during his visit to Thornell. 

Yeah. I could focus on that, it hurt.

For a moment I could see Jack in front of me over Lucinda’s visage. His silver hair, the strong features and the furrowed brow he wore when things were not going the way he wanted or expected. His expression warped as he came around the dining room table in a manner that had never been directed at me before.

Though I could not hold this image of Jack, it was shifting in my mind’s eye.

Alex stood before me now, his words echoing in my head. My grief had been easy to set aside, continuing my life after meeting Alex was no different from the time before. Maybe it was not a healthy thing to put things like this in a box? The grief and sadness were eclipsed by the rage of having a dismissive brother. Six years! Six fucking years and he has the gall and the gumption to throw my good, sensible opinions in my face! If I see him again I-I am not sure what I will do! If I have to drag him kicking and screaming back to the reality of the situation then so be it!

But Alex will put up a fight if it comes to that.

And I would be ready for it!

Tavish moved a few more steps away before bellowing “BEGIN!”

My wand arm moved quickly in a jerky motion to try and wipe that smirk off Lucinda’s face. “Ventus!”

A strong wind came from the tip of my wand with such force that Lucinda was blown back a couple of feet before tying herself to the earth with roots she summoned from the ground and constructed a pillar of stone to break the force of the high powered wind.

I stepped to the side to get a clear shot at Lucinda, who rebounded quickly by yanking her pillar from the earth with a wave of her wand and throwing it at me to break my concentration, the pillar hit the ground a foot away from me with such force I could feel the earth shake under my feet. Before I could collect myself she was assaulting me with a flock of screaming yellow canaries.

I muttered a counterspell to turn the canaries into harmless feathers that drifted into the grass on a soft cool breeze. 

‘Ligare Vites!’ Conjured vines sprung from the earth and moved towards Lucinda. She retaliated by setting them ablaze with a silent spell of fiery rope.

I dodged the disarming spell Lucinda sent in my direction, then blocked her second attempt with a round shield with an ouroboros around the edge. I flung the shield at her after blocking the spell, the blur of silver distracting Lucinda long enough for me to try and take an advantageous position.

‘Fumus!’ A thick gray smoke emerged from the tip of my wand covering several feet around me and hiding my from Lucinda’s sight.

“Cute,” Lucinda spat before a yellow light shot through the gray mass inches from my nose.

I blindly fired out of the smoke, hoping that Lucinda had gotten comfortable and not moved too far. The audible yelp of surprise and a gleeful shout from Tavish calling the duel told me I hit my target.

The smoke was cleared with a wave of my wand and I caught my breath, heaving an exhausted sigh as I walked over to where Tavish was examining the creature that was hopping around in the grass.

“Well. I think I just won.” 

Crow-Lucinda gave an irate caw in response. I knew she could not understand me, but the satisfaction of finally defeating Lucinda after months of effort entitled me to be a little smug. 

Tavish clapped me on the back with a hearty congratulations and a low laugh of his own as Crow-Lucinda hopped around and flapped her useless wings. “Nicely done, lass. Bes’ turn ‘er back ‘fore she learns ta fly.”

   Oo0Oo0

Half an hour later, I found myself sitting in Lucinda’s office, my lessons in Occlumency finally earned. The painting in the corner showed my grandfather, Callum, looking at the two of us with interest before hiding from Lucinda’s sharp, hawkish eyes and her fiendish mutterings of his name in an unenthusiastic scolding.

I turned my attention to one of the new books she had acquired. This one was a light, happy sort of novel about an old man running away from his problems and helping others with the library he kept in his suitcase. It did not strike me as something Lucinda would pick up herself, but she appeared to be three-fourths of the way through the book, so she must have been enjoying herself. 

I looked back at Lucinda, who was gazing at me with a pensive stare, taking in every aspect of who I was much like she had when I first arrived on her doorstep.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Her voice was crisp and brusk, but that did not phase me anymore. There were bigger things in the world to fear than the tones of an old woman who had my best interests at heart beneath her steely demeanor.

I nodded, “I need to know this. I think I can learn how and that it could protect me from those who would do me harm.”

“Have a seat.”

I sat in the armchair and rested my feet flat on the floor, my stomach knotted in anticipation.

“Occlumency is the art of shielding the mind from outside forces, to block people away from what you do not want them to see. Though skilled legilimens can tell if something is being protected. My methodology is different."

I nodded in agreement, recalling the books Lucinda had given me to read on the matter. "You use the O'Hagan alternative."

Lucinda smiled, "I was actually a student of his back when I was working for the Ministry. I needed something to fill my time and Oisin needed help to test his theory. I thought the work he was doing sounded very interesting so I sent him a letter asking for an apprenticeship." She paused, a discomfort on her face that I did not associate with Lucinda. "He was killed during You-Know-Who's first uprising. I was the one who found him in the house, the Dark Mark looming over his home just like the papers warned. I made sure his books were published, it seemed to be the right thing to do."

"I'm sure he appreciated that."

"I hope so, if not I'll hear it in the next life." Lucinda chuckled before speaking again. "Now, Oisin's method involves rerouting the invader to senseless memories away from what they want to see and towards false created memories to protect your true reality.” Lucinda sat down across from me, her long sleeves like wings before they came to rest like a curtain over the arms of her chair. “I can teach you how to create a safe place in your mind and how to guard it, but this is invasive and painful and can only be taught through actual practice to apply the theories you have read in your books. Everyone has their own style, their own opinions about what keeps them safe from enemies.” Lucinda paused, “In teaching you, I will see things that you do not want me too, anything I see will not leave this room. I will take it to my grave.”

I buried the more embarrassing parts of my life as deeply inside myself as I could and nodded.

“Ready?” Lucinda took out her wand.

“Yes.”

“Legillimens!”

I was four and my parents were fighting, I didn't know what they were fighting about. The yelling was senseless to my ears. It was easy to hide on the staircase and be ignored while Alex patted me on the top of the head to try and take me somewhere else.

I was five and the snake at the zoo was complaining that the mice were not alive to chase and hunt, that the taste of terror was missing from his meals. I pointed and complained on the snake’s behalf to my father, because my dad was the greatest man in the world, who made the world better through his work. There was fear in his eyes, something I recognized as a fear of the implication if this thing I said was more than childish whimsy. He cuffed me over the head, a little harder than what would be considered playful and told me that it would upset my mother. Alex put his arm over my shoulder to guide me along to the next exhibit. When I held my father’s hand to admire the prairie dogs he squeezed my hand a little harder.   

I was six, holding my mom’s hand as she died while I wondered where my dad was as Tinsy and the sitter made noise in the hall.

I was suddenly back in Lucinda's office feeling as if I had just been dropped into the chair I knew I had been sitting in for the last… several hours? No. It felt that way, but intellectually I could not have had Lucinda prodding around my mind for more than half an hour… Right?

Lucinda was looking at me with wide eyes.

I braced myself for what I knew was coming next.

"You're a Parselmouth?!"

I winced as I quickly thought of ways to divert this conversation. 

Only one thing came to mind.

"Alex is dating a werewolf!"

"WHAT!"

Lucinda clutched her chest like she was having a heart attack, the abject horror in her eyes and Alex and I's societal weirdness was now readily apparent.

"She's… a fascinating human being. I can see why Alex likes her."

"A werewolf?" Lucinda repeated, her voice lowering as the expression of her face became a mix of disgust and horror.

“She’s a person. A person with a problem who your great nephew is clearly in love with.”

“You’ve met her,” Lucinda breathed.
 
“She helped me find Alex. He trusts her. More than he does anyone else in his life.” I straightened my shoulders and met Lucinda’s eyes, ready to lay bare Thalia’s humanity. “She’s working on a new kind of Wolfsbane potion and in an independent potioneer. She’s kind somewhere under the gruff and frankly Lucinda, Thalia is a lot like you. I think you could like her if you gave yourself a chance too!”

Lucinda waved her hand to move the subject along with an irritated noise. 

“Your efforts to distract me were clever, but now I want to get back to your affiliation with the serpentine.”

“Um… I don’t have any control over that, Auntie.” 

Lucinda peered at me with a hawkish expression, “You understand that this cannot get out? No one can know about this? You’ll be dragged through the papers! Doors will slam in your face! These idiots will think you are a Dark Witch!”

I nodded quickly in agreement.

“I mean nobody can know. Your friends. Boyfriends. Girlfriends. The person you marry.” She took a deep breath. “Merlin, I’m surprised it’s stayed quiet this long.”

“It’s not something I do as a party trick!” I snapped back, really how dumb did she think I was? I was very aware of what I stood to lose if I outed myself. Everything. In this political climate, I could lose everything I had and everything I was gaining. “Can we try again please?”

Lucinda nodded, coming back on topic. “My apologies.” She pointed her wand at me once more. “Ready?” 

I took a deep breath and tried to picture the little cottage house and garden I had spent weeks crafting in my mind, before giving my consent to Lucinda.

“Legilimens!”

I was back in the garden. The cold winter air settled over my exposed skin, loose strands of my hair that had escaped my bun were tickling the back of my neck and shoulders. I could see Percy, he was so close I could count the freckles on his face-

No! My elderly aunt does not need to see this.

Something inside of me that sounded like Lucinda chastised me for the echoing thought of even considering her elderly, she was simply an old woman, not decrepit in the way the word elderly made her sound. 

Why couldn’t I grab a hold of this memory? It was slipping in and out of my grip like a wet fish. Slimy and thrashing!

Why can’t I redirect her?

Lucinda was a witch of skill and power, and that grew more adamant with everything she taught me.

By the Twelve, it was awkward at points.

The memory shifted to something more recent that featured a collection of fat dragons and the smokey smell of a pub with oddly dressed No-Majs. I was looking into Percy’s eyes and the words about my being worth the risk that twisted my heart with their quiet conviction felt as if they were on a repeat and filling the space in my memories

I was back in the office, the space in front of me feeling empty and cold, devoid of the warmth of Percy from my memory.    

"You're dating a Weasley!"

"His name is Percy. You met him last year at Elizabeth's funeral."

Lucinda pinched the bridge of her nose and slumped slightly in her chair, the gesture reminded me so much of Percy that I struggled not to laugh and remain stone faced.

"A Weasley? You’re too pretty to be desperate."

"No, I'm not desperate. I happen to like him enough to try."

I was sure Lucinda was developing a headache from every revelation she was pulling from my brain. The way she was pressing her fingers against her temple seemed to imply that I was correct. 

“Great. The Weasley family has no money. No connections. I can’t remember if your baby bureaucrat is Weasley number two or four, which means he’s not getting much from any inheritance, even if the Weasleys were not famously financially famished. And the Averys are going to get my house when I’m dead. I better outlive Tavish, he’ll never accept them taking the place and hauling him off the property would break his heart.”

Ah, perhaps it was time I stopped biting my tongue on another matter.

“Well, the other choice was Harrow Avery.”

Lucinda straightened in her chair, her hands moving from her temple to the arms of her chair with a muffled bang. 

“What?”

“Harrow proposed to me during that Ministry Gala and I told him that that was never going to happen.”

“Good! Arrogant little weasel! If he wants my house he’ll have to wait and if I’m lucky, I’ll outlive him out of spite!”

“Percy seems an improvement over that option, right Auntie?”

“I’m withholding judgment. For now.”

There was silence in the room now, I could see Lucinda thinking about what she would say next in a careful way. Her hands fidgeted between drumming the arm of the chair and moving into her lap to play with the gold ring on her pinkie finger.

“I have never understood love and romance.” Lucinda started with her usual confidence. “I find the ideas strange the way people practice it. The intensity of it and the need to be around each other all the time sounds so exhausting.” Lucinda paused. “I’ve never needed another person in my life, except Tavish of course, but people are so consumed by the idea of it and found me strange for what was so normal to them.” She paused again, her expression regretful in a way I was not sure I understood until she spoke again. “Lucina tried to explain why she liked your father so much, she said he was dashing, handsome and intelligent. I thought that all of that was very superficial, that she should take longer than four months to know the man before marrying him. She knew I was more than a bit cold on Jack, and yelled at me for my more… practical advice on the matter.” 

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her that lust was not a good way to make those kinds of decisions.”

I could see how that would lead to that falling out they had. Lucinda sending ugly vases to them was probably no help, mom knew she did not like Jack, nor approve of the relationship and was expressing it in her prim, Lucinda way.

“Recently, I had a selfish kind of hope at times that you would view such things the way I do, or even just as something that is too dangerous for you right now with your father’s position. It's given me the blessing of a simple life where I know to find multiple sources of joy instead of focusing it all on one person like many of my friends did at your age.”

“I think there is wisdom in that, it’s just closer to some than it is to others.”

“You’re a sensible sort of girl, like Lucina was to some extent, but she was very much in her own head chasing fantasy, daydreaming about whatever suited her fancy.”

That would make sense. Mom held onto the image she had of Jack as long as she could and we all lived with the consequences of it. Though, I was prone to odd imaginings in my own right. It was how I managed to pass the time while looking busy at work. 

Lucinda heaved a heavy sigh, “I can’t take anymore secrets today.” 

“That’s fair.”

“Don’t tell Tavish about the English boy.” She pointed an accusatory finger at me as a realization seemed to come to her mind at the utterance. “Actually, don’t tell him about any boys.”

Oo0Oo0

January 6, 1997

Secret dating felt exciting and nerve-wracking in a way that was hard to describe. Perhaps it was the thrill of the secret mixed in with the looks Percy would send me from across the room when we were alone in the front office. In any case, under the various circumstances I found myself in, the time I spent with Percy was among the most interesting.

He was far more familiar with 'muggle London' as he called it then I was and we both agreed it was preferable to being in the boundaries of the wizarding world where we would be seen by people who might know us or crossing paths with Death Eaters causing havoc on a whim. 

Percy had offered a walk around a park a few streets over from his flat. It was busy, mostly parents heading to the playground with baby strollers and some smoking teenagers who were on a piece of wood with wheels on it and riding the contraption around the park. Neither of us had any idea what it was called. 

In a lot of ways, I think we were both out of our comfort zones.

We made our way over to an empty bench that was against a low wall looking out over the pond. It was quiet and the sounds of screaming children faded to a low rumble somewhere behind us.

“Did you hear about that Ministry raid in Knockturn Alley a couple of nights ago?”

I nodded slowly, knowing exactly what he was referring to because I was there!

“Thirty arrested, one of the Aurors was bitten by an escaped runespoor.”

Oh…! I did not hear about that.

"Did they catch it?"

Percy rolled his eyes, "Apparently it escaped into the tunnels under the city. The magical creatures department has sent some people after it. We don't need any muggles finding a three headed snake. The report said it was massive and I don’t know how that Auror did not see the snake."

Well. I don't think I thought any of that through.

“How come no one noticed there was a basilisk in a school?”

Percy shot me a peevish expression that made me chuckle. 

"No. Nobody needs to see a giant three headed snake." I took in the cool air and the sound of the ducks in front of us, deciding to change the subject slightly. "Is it true that Scrimgeour just threw them all in Azkaban?"

"Yes, apparently they're suspected of dealing in dark arts, illegal dueling and supporting You-Know-Who." He had a look of disgust on his face as he said this and I was uncertain if it was his strong hatred of Death Eaters or just the gray area of magic that Knockturn Alley seemed to deal in. Perhaps it was both. Percy was too straight-laced and righteous to pick one as being worse than the other.

"So the Ministry continues to lock people up without a trial?"

“For public safety,” Percy replied, sounding as if he was quoting a party line then an actual opinion. “We don’t know anything about these people or those they could be affiliated with.”

“You don’t really believe that to be the right way to handle something like this? Mass arrests make people uneasy and have a funny tendency to break people’s faith in their government. Especially if there are no trials for the accused. It builds a poor relationship and you have to admit that the Ministry does not have a great history in that regard.”

Percy exhaled slowly and adjusted his scarf, his breath forming a mist in the cool air. “You’re right, but how many trials can we reasonably hold in a short amount of time? We need law enforcement that can be trusted to pursue leads about You-Know-Who and guard the prisoners who remain in Azkaban since the dementors have broken with the Ministry. We don’t have the numbers and the war takes priority in Scrimgeour’s mind.”

“I’ve never liked how dementors are used here.” My voice was low as I moved closer to Percy, who was resting his arm on the back of the bench, his fingers brushing my shoulder. “I think it’s cruel to trap someone in their own worst memories and not to mention the kiss.”

“You’re ignoring MACUSA’s problems in that area.”

“Compared to a dementor, death seems a merciful option.” I retorted quickly as I smoothed out my coat. “Sometimes, people do terrible things against the laws of man and nature and don’t deserve even an illusion of life.” 

“Yes, but what if they turn out to be innocent and an innocent person has been put to death for a crime they never committed in the first place? At least we can take people out of Azkaban.”

He had a point, it was a common one made by those back in America who opposed the swift judgements for death.

“That trust your Ministry has put in the dementors has clearly backfired. At least MACUSA is able to do its own dirty work and not trust fickle, miserable creatures like that.”

Percy pinched the bridge of his nose to try and chase away a headache. I could feel his fingers on my shoulder moving towards my upper back just under my neck. I shifted closer, this talk of dementors leaving me more chilled than just the evening air. 

Did people generally discuss political philosophy during early dating periods? I wasn’t sure. Chastity would just giggle and admit to making out through most of the date whenever she started seeing someone new. Gavin talked to me for about a week about Quadpot between classes before that incident in the rose garden. Nothing of substance occurred in discussions with either party. 
  
“The only answer I have is expanding law enforcement, but that takes time that the Ministry doesn’t have.”

“Which traps the country in a series of short term decisions and benefits with long term consequences.”

Percy nodded, looking somehow older than twenty. 

“ICW does not look at mass arrests without charges with generosity.”

“What’s Weathers said about any of this?”

“I didn’t think you liked him very much?”

Percy shrugged, “He’s a strong personality, not someone I would think about in a diplomatic role.”

I was not going to tell Percy that he and Elihu were very similar personalities. That would greatly annoy him and I felt that I should save that for another time.

“I think you already know Elihu’s opinion on things from all of those meetings you’ve been to with the Minister.”

Percy’s arm came to rest around my shoulders and I closed the last bit of distance by pressing myself against his side. 

“Elihu’s never been subtle. Why are you curious about his opinions?”

“Because you share his opinions on most things.” 

“If you want to know what I think then you can just ask.”

“I’d like to know what you think.”

I bit my lip and put my thoughts in order. 

“I think the Ministry has a chance to win the war, Scrimgeour has been relentless about it in many ways, but he will not be the acting Minister after the war. I think he’s burning a lot of bridges with the public and will lose a lot of trust to accomplish what he believes needs to be done. I think you know that as well as I do.”

The slow nod from Percy confirmed his agreement with my opinion of the matter. 

We spent the following hour drifting ideally into lighter discussions of magical places outside of Diagon Alley, a No-Maj museum we should visit if we had the time and the upcoming Quidditch match between Holyhead and Puddlemere. Normal things, though the things that bothered our minds were generally far from what would be considered normal.   

Chapter Text

January 8, 1997

I had never really thought of myself as a writer or political commentator, but Valencia's request for an explanation of the far-reaching impacts of current Ministry policy was an intriguing offer. She offered to pay me the standard rate per word, to edit it for me, and the opportunity to have a pen name of my choosing. I imagined Valencia did a lot of things for her paper directly, Semper Honestus was a very small paper with a shifting collection of freelancers.

Valencia flipped through my three page opinion piece on the mass incarcerations without a trial and the long term political consequences of the act. She was using red ink to make various corrections and cuts to the material while I admired her tiny home office that was covered in framed newspaper article copies of famous events from the last twenty years. A portion of it related to election scandals, another section to the many political scandals of the British Ministry. That Barty Crouch Jr. story was absolutely salacious. At least my father gave enough of a damn about his children to recuse himself from any crimes his children were involved in. I was sure he would recuse himself from comment if Annette became a serial killer instead of an Auror.

I had fantasized about following in my father's footsteps to become a politician when I was younger and more inclined to idealize Jack. Though I eventually decided that politics was not the future I wanted as my father's career gained more prevalence in the public consciousness and left me feeling like a performing seal. I did grow to love politics as a year long sport that perhaps shed more blood than Quadpot and how history helped tie the present issues of the day together into something resembling a coherent narrative of cause and effect. 

"It's a good paper," Valencia's soothing voice made me jump. "It needs to be shorter and you tend to wander off on tangents. Keep it simple. People are dumb and need to be spoon fed information." She held out the paper for me to take. I winced at all of the red splotches and marks on the parchment. "Make the corrections and I'll take another look, but other than that it's completely fine."

I felt myself freeze in surprise. "Really?"

Valencia nodded, folding her hands in front of her on the desk. "You're very talented. You write like you're trying to write a book though, which is why I had to cut so much material."

"Oh, I just thought it was interesting background information."

"I can't run a series Aud, I'm a monthly publication."

"Of course, I understand."

"If you have a book in you somewhere, I'd be happy to read it."

I thought back to my journal where I kept little notes of interesting things interspersed with my journaling about my day to day thoughts. My workplace daydreaming when I had nothing to occupy myself with or was working slowly to avoid going to Umbridge for anything else to do. I had been reading a historical novel about the period where workers were fighting for their rights and a living wage, which was exceptionally tumultuous politically, socially and ethically. In America there was nearly a coup on the matter and union leaders took politicians as hostages to begin a period we called the Overthrow. The novel I was reading was about a potioneer who needed very specific ingredients to save the life of his company boss’s pretty daughter while the strike was reaching its climax. It was a pretty inspiring look at how history and fiction could work together for a coherent narrative that could educate and inform.

I knew a bit about the Overthrow, corporations under MACUSA contract did not pay the workers of various dangerous jobs a fair or livable wage, many related to the upkeep of dangerous class five creatures for potion ingredients and the small dragon reserve we had in North America at the time. Well, people don’t like seeing their coworkers get chewed up by an ornery dragon for a few Notes a day and decided to air their grievances. The companies did not like that, nor did the government when they all walked off the job and the president decided to force replace the workers with low-level criminals in an effort to break the strike while other members of law enforcement took the fight to the strikers directly. Some of the strikers had a cleaver idea to cut the head off the snake, as it were, and successfully took the Representative of Kentucky out of his bed and held him hostage for three weeks while they negotiated his release with MACUSA, other strikers and union leaders followed suit in other states. The wix who did the hostage taking were put to death in the aftermath as ringleaders and the fight ended for less than seven years before the second overthrow called the issue of payment back into the public eye and eventual success.

That might actually be a very good non-fiction book, it was not one I had enough personal connection with to do well, but I had a long term interest in political scandals… Perhaps a book about the various political scandals of MACUSA divided by century? It was easier to sling mud at people who were, for the most part, already dead.  

"I… I think I might." I needed to change the subject, Valencia and I had other things to discuss today. "I found Alex."

Valencia froze, her face and expression similar to Lucinda's when I told her last week. A raw kind of shock and astonishment that made me feel both proud for doing something that was considered impossible and sad for not fulfilling everything that I wanted.

"How is he?"

"Alive. Grumpy. Lucinda knows and we don't think he's been imperioused."

Valencia closed her eyes in thought, heaving a sigh. "Alex is a tough bastard. I can't imagine what he's had to do to get in this deep with this death clown posse."

I giggled despite the subject at hand.

"So, what happened?"

I relayed a short version to Valencia, that Alex and I had a fight, he would not be retreating from whatever he was involved in for the sake of the story he was chasing, and that yes, I had delivered her message as asked.

"He's an idiot."

"Thank you!"

Valencia looked at me thoughtfully as she brushed her brilliant red hair from her face and took off her glasses to place them on the desk. 

"I think he was surprised you showed up in person. Alex is like a cat. You need to let him come to you. Well, to a point, sometimes you need to threaten him with a water pistol.”

“What’s a water pistol?”

“Oh, it’s a toy for No-Maj children that squirts water, my foster family used theirs on the cat when he was on the kitchen counter. It worked great!”

Were they knocking the cat off the counter with the water? How would that work for children? It sounded dangerous. 

It may be best to forget about it and move on.

"I haven't mentioned this to Lucinda, but the more I think about it, I become more afraid that Alex has been a bit… enamored by Voldemort's ideology." I bit my lip and took a deep breath, my throat tight as reality settled upon my soul and wrapped its fingers around my throat causing me to choke back tears at the next sentence I uttered. "Val, what can I do?"

Valencia stood up and came around the desk to pull me into a hug. “You be ready for when the fool sees sense, because he will and he’ll need us when that happens.”

“I want to drag him out of there!”

“Kidnapping is a crime.”

“Not if we don’t get caught," I wiped my burning eyes and sniffled loudly. "Alex would have too much explaining to do to the authorities if he went to them in any case.”

"Then he'll go running back to finish what he started and you'll definitely never see him again." Valencia hugged me once again, the smell of her perfume reminding me of wildflowers and orange blossoms as she moved away. "I think meeting in person was a lot of pressure.”

“He’s running around with Death Eaters, I think he’s perfectly able to handle me turning up in his life without notice.”

“I’m sorry I asked him to do this. I didn’t think the war would start and Alex would insist on sticking it out. I thought he would be smart enough to leave.”

Thunderbird, Alex’s house at Ilvermorny, was said to represent the soul of a wix. A place for adventurers who were driven by the brand of ambition that wanted to leave a mark on the world. Maybe we should have seen this coming? Every bone in Alex’s body wanted to step out of our father’s shadow by warning people about the evil in the world. 

We were stupid for not truly understanding how intrinsic this pursuit was to who is was and the extent it was able to drive him.

Valencia thought a message from her would motivate him to drop the story and leave. I thought  my being there would tip the scales when her words made him waver. We were wrong and I refused to repeat my mistakes. 

Dealing with Alex was like trying to catch a clowder of cats. I would have to be smart. Alex was the cat, righteous causes were the mice and I needed to try and get him to jump into a box. 

“It’s not your fault. None of this is.” 

My brother is an idiot, truly we have no control over his acquisition of common sense in the last twenty eight years of this life, but if I had to blast him with an Aquamenti charm like a cat on a kitchen counter then so be it!

Oo0Oo0

January 10, 1997

My breaks were the few precious minutes I could escape the Minister’s Support Staff Office and either scream in a very silenced closet or drink my horrible American coffee in peace and quiet. It was the latter today, I had received a letter before I left for work this morning from a very tired tawny owl who dropped the letter in my lap and stole my buttered toast off my plate before I could do anything about it. I had no time to read it at home and thought it would be nice to read while I was taking my morning break.

I had made myself comfortable at the table, the letter in one hand and my warm coffee mug in the other. 

I could not hear Dolores hem hemming in my vicinity.

There was no noise to indicate the Minister was hobbling around the hallways.

I could hear Percy’s footsteps coming down the hallway for more tea. 

I opened the letter and noted Annette’s sloppy hand writing on the envelope.

Dear Audrey,

Annette and I had begun exchanging letters, they were cautious things on both sides. I did not want to say anything that could get back to our father, or anything that would worry her more about the situation here. I wrote to her of silly general topics, asking her about her classes (she was excelling), her friends (Angeli Gomez seemed like a very nice girl), and her latest research into the occult (sigh). I was afraid to broach the topic of boys for a whole host of reasons, namely because I did not want to think about what kind of strange person she would bring home. Probably a mortician or a murderer. 

I found a section of the Ilvermorny library that is dedicated to death rituals. Did you know there were some monks in Japan who practiced self-mummification through starvation? 

I blinked slowly and reread the last sentence before moving on. 

I’m writing a paper about it for one of our free topics. I want to give Ms. Willow a scare. You know her, she’s a very nice lady but she also thinks we’re babies. 

Ms. Willow was a very nice, elderly teacher at Ilvermorny. Where Umbridge meant her sweet talk in a patronizing way, Ms. Willow was just very grandmotherly. Annette was never going to shake this woman. She had seen too much. 

Dad told me not to mention it at the dinner table, he says he can tolerate my ritual murder talk but the self- mummification were a bit much. His secretary looked green as a cabbage, that just means he’s got a weak constitution. I can’t remember if his name is Chad or Thad, dad can’t remember either so I don’t think it’s too important. 

Poor Chad. 

School’s okay, I’m kind of bored though. I haven’t had a chance to beat up Ethan Greene again, he’s scared of me so he keeps his distance from me and Angeli. If he puts a foot out line in my sight again I’ll beat him worse then the last time. I’ll know more magic by then, so maybe there won’t be a problem in challenging a fourth year to duel and I won’t have to waste a good carving board by breaking it over his head again. 

Annie no!

Angeli says that if I wait another year, I can join the dueling club and beat Ethan Greene in front of all of his little friends. I can’t wait to make him cry. 

Love,

Your Favorite Sister

P.S. 

If you get a chance, can you send me one of those Death Eater masks? 

I dropped Annette as a baby, she fell out of my grip as I was moving her away from a room Tinsy was cleaning and she landed on her fat head. Maybe that’s why she was like this?

I heaved a tired sigh, I intended to respond to the letter over lunch today or at least start the process. I could ask about the… mummies. It would break some of the ice hanging over our correspondence. I enjoyed talking to Annette, but I never knew what exactly I was going to get with her. 

My eyes came to rest on Percy who was nonchalantly making another cup of tea at the counter a few feet away. My attention was drawn to his shoulders as I watched him, taking in the tall straightness of his posture and the tension I could sense had come to rest in his shoulders. I wanted to do something but I was not sure what.

This place we were in was truly odd. We were something more than friends, more physically affectionate (on his part, I struggled with that a lot) and we could talk about almost anything, but we could not do that during our breaks. We still called each other by our first names, which was admittedly odd within the Ministry environment where other people called me by my surname, but people wrote it off as being so close in age and my being a friendly American stereotype. It was the little things, Percy’s usually brusk tone with me during working hours would immediately become something softer when we were out of the building, mostly walking around London’s many parks.

We had not even seen each other’s flats yet.

Percy turned to look at me and I froze. 

Get a grip, Aud. You’ve already kissed the man.

“Aren’t you on break?”

I held up Annette’s letter, “I’m trying to start a letter to my sister.”

“Oh.”

I held it out to him. “How would you respond to this?”

Percy glanced over towards the door before taking the letter, his fingers brushing mine sent a tingling sensation up my arm that made me blush. He was already reading the letter so I hoped he hadn't noticed.  

I felt Percy needed to know early that my kid sister had the potential to grow up and become a murderer. 

I had put some thought into this over the last few days. It might be best if he knew about the oddities of my immediate family in some capacity. If Annette was enough to scare him off, then maybe this relationship was not meant to last and it would be kinder to let him find someone with a normal family that was not the Graves family's unique brand of dysfunctional. 

I'm just going to put Annette out there and see what he says.

"I'm not sure how to reply to this. Annie has some… unique interests for a twelve-year-old."

Percy's eyes widened slightly as he took in the contents. The expression he wore was slightly confused as he finished. I let him take it in before speaking. 

"I'm not sure if I should start with the mummies or compliment her grades."

He was rereading the letter as if he could not entirely comprehend what he had just read.

"Really, I'm open to suggestions."

"Start with the mummies, that's fascinating."

That was not the response I was expecting.

Percy seemed to take in my expression and flashed me a smile. "Your sister sounds… Interesting.”

"She is. She wants to be an Auror."

She deserves a better family. 

"That's a respectable career. A friend of my brother's joined the Aurors a couple of years ago."

"I have money on Annie becoming a serial killer."

Percy chuckled.

"Annie'll probably end up in the Crime and Motive department. I don't think a blood soaked crime scene would shake her." 

The smell might, but the sight would not. 

"Is she in her second year?"

"Yes. She just knows what she wants and spent a little too much time with Grandpa. I think she needs to go work with our cousin Martin the mortician. He and his family own a funeral home, crematorium and cemetery called Graves by Graves."

Percy tilted his head slightly like an owl, he seemed confused about if I was joking or not. I was not joking. Cousin Martin was a nice man, who ran a steady business. He did offer a very small discount for family members that was well used and maintained the family tomb for the cremated members.  

"What does your brother do?"

"He's somewhere in Europe, traveling, working in a bar or something."

I'm not ready to talk about Alex and I had doubts that Percy could handle that mess with grace to either myself or my brother. Nor was I feeling charitable to Alex after seeing him for the first time in six years and had no desire to taint any meeting I hoped the three of us would have in the future with my quietly simmering rage and sadness over Alex’s choices.

"My brother is a bit useless."

"I'm sure he's good for something."

Raising my blood pressure.

"Of course he is, I wouldn't know for sure because we're not close. He's a lot older than me and we both have our own lives. Have you heard from Eddie lately?"

Percy nodded, his glasses sliding slightly down his nose. "Eddie sent me a bunch of pictures of the beach with an antagonizing note about sunlight, tranquility and a lack of dark wizards." Percy rolled his eyes. "The letters were very self congratulatory about how wonderful being married is and how he's getting on with Pearl's family and learning the business. There were three paragraphs just about his wife."

I choked back a laugh, remembering Eddie's obsession with Pearl from happier times swarmed my memory with things I had forgotten in the storm of drama from the last several months.

"Well, at least they're happy."

What I really meant to say was: At least one of us is happy at their job.

Percy passed me Annette’s letter, his fingers brushing mine in the process once more, causing my stomach to flip awkwardly as I tried to not look at his freckled face that seemed to have an alarming hold over me at times. His voice was low, somewhere over a whisper as he leaned closer to me. “We still on for later?”

I nodded slowly, my breath caught in my chest.

He stepped away, none the wiser to my struggle to do something flirtatious and stupid in a workplace setting. We had not kissed since the gala, both of us in the same mind about building something a little more stable than lust. Though, my quickly crafting fantasies were interrupted by a noise that made me want to commit war crimes.

“Hem hem.”

Dolores Umbridge stood at the door of the break room with her pink knit cloak over her shoulders to starve off the office chill. Percy and I snapped to attention as if we had been hit but stunning spells.

“Hello Madam Umbridge,” I said with a steady voice. “How can I help you?”

“Could you come to my office after your break? I need you to run and errand to the library and find somethings from the law section.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

She looked between the two of us, gave a courtesy greeting to Percy before telling him the Minister needed him to take notes in the courtroom before departing as quietly as she had arrived with Percy following her back to the office with a rushed farewell to me.

I scrawled an opening paragraph to Annette before sliding it into my purse to be finished at home and bracing myself for another afternoon of chasing down senseless things for whatever scheme Umbridge was cooking up in her creepy office. 

I was not ready to quit the Ministry yet, but maybe it was time to start thinking about what my life after it would look like. 

Chapter Text

January 31, 1997

I truly hated this office.

Being alone with Dolores Umbridge was a weekly nightmare where she would give me a list of tasks for the week and explain to me in excruciating detail how these things needed to be accomplished, filed and generally just how to do my job. I had taken to spacing out during these hostage negotiation style meetings, nodding my head and making the appropriate agreeable noises was a lesson I learned at a young age and it continued to serve me well.

Since the gala, when I had politely declined to be Scrimgeour's puppet, Umbridge had not known what to do with me. Should she treat me with the usual pleasantries or perhaps begin again with a passive scorn? The possibilities seemed endless and seemed to rely on Scimgeour’s general demeanor towards me on particular days. On days he was cold and ignored me, she was more scornful of my general existence, the rest of the time when I had the potential to be in Scrimgeour's good graces once more, Umbridge was cordial, false and disgustingly sweet as she asked about my career plans and made effort to give the appearance of managerial concern about my life and my work.

This time, she had invited me into her office for tea.

Dolores Umbridge was a frog-like woman clad in pink with beady eyes. She had an air of malignancy about her that set my teeth on edge with her girlish, ghoulish giggles to every funny little comment the Minister made. I did not like her. Percy said she was a delightful woman, but that was… well… honestly an incorrect opinion. Men had no sense for quiet malignancy because they never had to look for it or expect it in their daily lives.

Though, maybe that was an aspect of my upbringing under a politically ambitious father talking?

"Close the door please." She gave me an impression of a sincere, maternal smile and offered me a chair as she moved to sit behind her desk while the kitten plates meowed and purred at various intervals.

I hated this office. It was too pink, too gaudy and set my teeth on edge. It was like a mockery of what a little girl would think it was like to be the ruler of the world.

By the Twelve even the carpet was pink! 

I was lucky there was nothing subtle about Umbridge, if there was I would have fallen hook, line and sinker for her sweet, cat loving persona and written off the warning I had received from Irene. At least I could tell Umbridge was more of an attempt at personhood than a success story of the matter.

She motioned for me to sit down, I did so, perching myself as close to the edge of the chair as I could manage without looking like a lunatic. 

"Tea?" Umbridge summoned the tea kettle and a set of delicious teacups with pastel decorations from a nearby cupboard.

"No thank you."

She set a steaming teacup down in front of me anyway before sitting down herself with a wide smile. 

I had to do my best impression of Percy to get through any meetings with this woman if I had to talk at all. Best to get this over with.

"Always a pleasure to see you Madam Umbridge, is there anything I can help you with today?"

"You'll be filling in for Weasley today, he's called out."

Called out? Good. He sounded terrible yesterday. I’m surprised I didn't see him trying to come in today.

"Oh, I hope he gets well soon. I take it the Minister needs me to take notes for him?"

"Precisely," She handed me Percy's planner where he kept the Minister's schedule. I had one as well, but Percy's was far more detailed than mine featuring names of department heads for each meeting, the scheduled trials (if one could call them trials) and an assortment of matters related to interviews with the Daily Prophet to assure the public of the Ministry's success.

Wait. This means I had to spend the day with Scrimgeour. Dammit.

"Perhaps the Minister would like me to find a stray clerk from the International office to fill in? I'm sure it wouldn't take long to find one."

"You wouldn't refuse a request from the Minister, would you?" Her voice soft and made my spine tingle at the implications before she even spoke the words aloud. "It's not a good look to refuse a request from the Minister of Magic himself is it?”

I’ve done it before, I can do it again. 

Unfortunately, I did not have a quick or easy out today. Protesting it would just make me look petulant. 

She sounded so slovenly about it I struggled not to roll my eyes.

“I would never! That would be so disrespectful and I cannot imagine trying to be in the Minister’s position right now with everything going on. What I meant to ask was if there was anything you felt I needed to do that was time sensitive or important? I just don’t feel that someone of your standing should be left out in the cold or forced to cover any of my menial tasks.”

Umbridge giggled and I felt an implicit urge to pop her like a pimple. “Such a considerate girl. No, there is nothing of the sort you should concern yourself with.” 

One of the cat plates on the wall began to purr.

My mind told me to stay calm, keep the smile glued to my face and be the happiest, simplest, little ornament that ever came through this department and not trust this woman in any capacity in the present or the future. The other secretaries were beginning to think I might be able to last as long as Irene had working under Umbridge, though I had a feeling it was more the Minister’s doing then any goodwill on Umbridge’s part. I needed to maintain my private life. I had the potential to be a valuable pawn even if I was uncooperative. 

I needed a drink. 

“That does make me feel better about the matter.” I checked Percy’s ledger and turned to some notes with today’s date written on them. “I assume I am to assist the Minister with his meeting with the journalist from the Daily Prophet this morning?”

“And whatever else he needs.” 

I would take an annoyed Scrimgeour over a day with Umbridge. 

“Of course, Madam Umbridge.”

Oo0Oo0

The conference room just off the Atrium was crowded with people from the Daily Prophet and various important offices in the Ministry. I could see several department heads who would be staying after the Minister left to answer questions of their own on a smaller scale. The air was filled with the scratching of notes and a low rumble of muttering between the reporters. Scrimgeour generally preferred smaller interviews with his favorite Prophet reporters, finding those meetings more personal, but sometimes he needed to offer encouragement to the masses and that usually involved a more public display and an open platform.  

I did not understand why Percy enjoyed his job as much as he did. 

Well, maybe I could to some extent, Scrimgeour was masterful at making everything he did look above board under the pressures of war and as he spoke I almost felt comforted by his words and the conviction of his speech. A presence that radiated power and demanded respect of himself and the office he represented. Blunt and direct like every old Auror my grandfather had introduced me to growing up. Though Scrimgeour’s ability to redirect a conversation and slightly cover the truth of a matter with pretty words reminded me strongly of my father. 

I shuffled my notes and refilled my inkwell to continue my notations for the records. I sat off to the side of the room where I could see everything and everyone. My chair pressed against the wall, half hidden from view by a large plant so I could periodically check the time so I could give Scrimgeour the signal to end his part of this meeting and move him on upstairs to his meeting with the department Percy’s father managed with that stupidly long name.

“The current arrests are being detained for questioning and their trials will be scheduled for a later date,” Scrimgeour’s voice boomed through the room as I noted the names of the reporters who asked each question and the questions they asked. I was told it was for statistical purposes and to help with speech writing. Percy’s methodology, he was detail oriented to the point where it was almost painful.

Percy has a genuineness to him that does not mesh well with politics. Sure, politicians can be very honest and forthright when they feel inclined to be, and they may be so in the day to day affairs of life, but they know how to wear a mask and when to do so. I’m not sure Percy has ever figured out how to wear a mask, if he has maybe I just see through it. 

Really, I’m starting to think I’ve had an exceptional education. 

Scrimgeour was moving into his closing statements, the good bits for the Daily Prophet to use in the latest piece about the Ministry's efforts in the war.

“The Death Eaters are being handled, with each arrest we trim their numbers and take another step towards victory against You-Know-Who. This Ministry remains committed to total victory over this threat and shall emerge victorious.”

I hoped that was true.

“Those who support our enemy, this threat to our stability will be brought to justice. Our law enforcement offices are working tirelessly to find these sympathizers and remove them from our society by any means necessary and bring them to justice with the full support of the Ministry!” 

A cold chill moved through me as Scrimgeour continued with an impromptu speech of sorts and my jaw clenched so tightly that my teeth ached. I had to relax, Alex had made his choices and he was adult enough to deal with the consequences. I was not going to help him in this. I would not!

But some part of me knew that I would.

The disappointment had faded, not entirely but enough to begin to heal. I loved Alex. The work he did was admirable. It was not a matter of politics, it was a matter of familial affection. I felt like a bridge of some sort, between my brother and our family should that time ever come, Alex and Lucinda, and between my brother and every law he was probably breaking in his pursuit of this story.

“Our victory will be absolute!”

I really missed my secretarial duties.

Oo0Oo0

February 1, 1997

I knew where Percy lived, we exchanged letters mostly to arrange walks and the like (Hermes was a delightful, well behaved owl), but we had never been inside each other's homes. It seemed a large line that we would cross at some point soon due to the war pushing us indoors and out of the No-Maj world we had taken refuge in at various points. It was really a matter of if we wanted to cross that line on our terms or the world's.

I would prefer to cross it on mine.

The bag on my arm shifted slightly as I opened the door to the Percy's building. It was nice, slightly run down with a vaguely dated touch in the way wix enjoyed. The woman at the desk was a friendly woman who reminded me of the lady who managed my block of flats with her warm smile as she cross checked the list of visitors that Percy warned me had been implemented this summer. She nodded and waved me on to the lift. I knew he was on the fifth floor, oh what was the number? 5-C! That was it.

It was a simple door, dark blue and not ostentatious with a small silver owl knocker that helped mark this building as a wizarding complex. Percy would laugh and tell me it was called a flat, I asked why and he did not seem to have an answer for it but told me he would find out. 

I glanced at the door behind me where loud music was playing somewhere beyond and winced at the rollicking banging of drums and… violin? What the hell?

I rapped on Percy's door and shifted awkwardly as I waited, moving my bag from one hand to another, the faint noise of a radio show audible when the neighbor took breaks from practicing in the room behind me.

"Who is it?" The voice from the other side of the door sounded raspy and congested.

"It's Audrey and you sound terrible."

There was a clatter of noise from the other side of the door, as if things were flying across the room and clattering against other objects, a displeased screech from Hermes adding to the symphony before a moment of silence that Percy was quick to break with a security question.

“What was the name of that book you were complaining about last week?” 

“The Fall of Rome and the Death of Democracy Volume Two. What was the legal loophole you found the other day?”

“That wandmakers who wish to import American cedar wood must first warn the Minister directly. There is no mention of this law being enforceable if the wizard is not a wandmaker. Hold on a moment.” The door lock clicked and whirred back into place before the door opened to reveal a very pale, very sick looking Percy. 

“Hi! I brought you some soup.”

He motioned me inside and I hustled past him as he closed the door with a sniffle as I took off my cloak to hang on the wall peg. I waved at a ruffled, fluffy Hermes who was giving Percy a hard stare from his cage. Such a cute bird!

It was a small flat, bigger than mine but not by much and had a scent of illness hanging in the air. I noted the nice bookcase full of books ranging from volumes of magical law to a collection of mysteries on the opposite wall of what appeared to be the living room. The room seemed very clean, no sign of dishes or anything truly personal such as pictures or weird knick knacks. It was just an impersonal, spartan space with a white wall and brown furniture that could have belonged in a rental or hotel room aside from the book collection. The most interesting thing about this room structurally was the fireplace. Beyond the living room was an opening to the kitchen where I could see a table with a pewter cauldron resting on it with some ingredients nearby. Had he been making his own remedies? That's not something you do when you're sick, that's how you screw up a recipe by being fever fogged. 

Like my apartment, Percy's had a very short hallway. Unlike mine, his seemed to only lead to the bathroom and the bedroom in the back. I at least had a very small storage room where I hid an assortment of leads about Alex from before I found him, now it acted as a kind of war closet where I was tracing Death Eater activity in hopes of maybe finding Alex one last time.

Percy's slippers scuffing on the floor called my attention back to him as he fixed the locks and spells. There was smoke from a pepper-up potion coming out of his ears, his hair was flying in several different directions and made him look as if his head were ablaze. Percy sneezed loudly, taking me out of the illusion as he turned to look at me. He was wearing a short sleeved shirt and a pair of dark blue sweatpants with socks and well-worn slippers. If he were not ill, I would think him an old man.  

It was so odd to see him in something other than work clothes, a very dramatic change to see him in what were functionally pajamas. I had never seen him so disheveled, it was like peeking behind a curtain to see something forbidden and secretive.  

"Welcome to my home. Do you want something to drink?"

Not from your diseased hands.

I looked over at the couch that had a blanket thrown hastily over the back, that must have been where Percy was when I knocked. That couch was too short for a tall man to lay on comfortably. There was a low sound of voices from the radio atop the small shelf and the glass floor lamp that Percy used instead of a proper floor that he kept inside the fireplace. 

"How about you point me to your kitchen and I'll heat this up for you." I held the bag up with a wry smile. "I don't intend to stay long, and I got the potion ingredients you asked for."

Percy looked at me with a confused and increasingly stressed expression. "No, no, you're a guest."

"You're sick, unless you're trying to infect me too?"

Percy put his hands up in front of him, surrendering the fight for the moment. "Fine, I'll save the courtesies for next time."

I felt myself flush at the mention of a next time.

"I'll bring food or something."

"Oh, you can cook?”

“I meant takeout, but I can cook a bit.”

Lies.

He doesn't need to know I'm mostly living on jam, toast, takeout and whatever leftovers I can get from Thornell after I'm invited over for dinner. It's not bad, I live on my own and leftovers will last a couple of meals a week at most. Cooking is hard for one person. I'm an adult. I should be able to cook my own food but I have discovered I am actually not a good cook. 

What I did to those eggs was a crime.

Percy cleared away the cauldron that was sitting on the kitchen table with a wave of his wand, sending it into a cupboard along with the common ingredients he had apparently been using earlier.

“You know you’re not supposed to brew when you’re sick,” I summoned a pot from a nearby cupboard, placing it on the stove before dumping the contents of the soup container into the pot and turning on the stove. “That’s how you go gray.”

“Pretty sure that’s an old wives tale crafted by a poor apothecary.”

“The other version I heard was giving your lover pox.”

“That’s the American version then.”

“Yes, though my aunt’s an apothecary and she says that the truth of the matter is some ingredients not mixing well with particular diseases or something like that.”

Percy sighed, "I like making potions, it's cheaper than getting someone to do it for me so I can pick it up six hours later."

"Point taken, but not the one I was making. What would Elizabeth say?"

That earned a chuckle from Percy as I leaned back against the counter. "Probably that I need to take better care of myself."

"She was such a nice lady. I'm glad she doesn't have to see everything that happened in the last few months, but I do miss her."

The smell of something burning caught my attention. I forgot to add water! I used a aquamenti charm to add water to the mixture, the air drying around me from the spell.

It did not appear Percy had noticed, he had his head in his hands as he tried to go to sleep at the table.

"If you need to see a Healer I can help you get to the hospital?"

"I'm fine. Just tired.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No.” He looked over at me and smiled. “I’ve missed your company.”

“Hermes isn’t enough to entertain you?” 

The soup came to a boil and the owl made a noise when I said his name. My face was warm and I did my best to pass it off as the growing heat from the pot.

“He doesn’t talk back.”

I stayed for an hour, long enough to make sure Percy ate and took another dose of pepper-up potion. Even if he would not say it, I was sure that was all of the visiting he could take. We left with pleasantries at the door, his warm hands lingering on my shoulders as he helped me with my cloak and I fought an urge to kiss him for the first time since the gala by remembering that he was sick and that his disease was one thing from him I did not want.

Oo0Oo0

The pecking at my window was incessant and growing louder and faster with each minute that passed. I swung off the couch with a groan and opened the curtain, expecting to see one of the pigeons doing something stupid or Hermes with a letter. 

I did not expect to see a raven with a letter in its beak.

Wait… this bird was familiar. I know this bird.

I opened the window quickly. 

"Erebus!"

The raven dropped a folded parchment on my couch before stealing the remaining piece of toast I had left on my plate.

The parchment had my name on it in an untidy scrawl, like someone had written it in a hurry and not had access to an envelope. Which was probably the case. The handwriting was tight and sloppy, but my name was discernible by the barest possible margin.

The raven settled in my windowsill, preening proudly and making a self satisfied noise.

"You're such a pig."

Erebus ignored me as he hopped from side to side in the window.

"No hellos for me? We used to cuddle."

Actually, I was holding Erebus against his will and had a couple of scars to prove it. The bird's tolerance for human affection was only the span of four minutes, the patience was halved for an eight year old girl who wanted to put little hats on him for parties with her stuffed animals. 

I opened the parchment and was taken aback by the contents.

I’m sorry.

Can we talk?

The paper shimmered in my hands to show me a date, time and location for the meeting. It was a small shop in Diagon Alley that sold second hand books. A neutral place where neither of us was encroaching on the other's territory and perspective of the world. 

I would go. There was no question about that. Alex was my brother, despite his flaws, and no one else could truly understand growing up in the Byrgen House under the Graves family's legacy of service and sacrifice. Jack cast a long shadow, but he had one over him too in his own father.

I took a deep breath before facing the raven who watched me with a thoughtful expression. 

"I'll be there."

Erebus nodded, accepting my reply before flying out the window into the early evening light.

Chapter Text

February 8, 1997

Drunk Florida Man Kidnaps Skunk Ape 

Of course he did, the boy’s an idiot. 

My gaze drifted down to read the article Elihu had sent me. Apparently the Vice President’s teenaged son, Javier Martinez, had gotten involved as an accomplice in a drunken beachfront vacation altercation in Florida involving a Skunk Ape, a No-Maj lawn tool, lots of beer and squeaky rubber chicken. I slipped the paper into my bag to send to Quincy with the letter I was writing him. We both knew Javier either from school or political party rallies and were in agreement about him being an idiot. Him ending up in the paper was not surprising and the real surprise was that he managed to end up in an article out of Florida. I read it twice to take in the insanity before sliding it into my purse to pass on to other people as I looked around the shop.

The secondhand bookshop Alex wanted to meet me at was small, the books were organized on the ceiling high shelves by genre and the surname of the author. The books were all in different sizes and degree of wear and tear. I noted a large section of board games in the corner, Hats and Wands, Dragon Dice, Erumphent Eulogy and Gobstones, of course. 

The shop was quiet and empty except for the old man who ran the shop who was wrapping books in brown paper for a program he was running called The Mysterious Book, where according to the ad in the front of his shop, he would send surprise books to his customers in exchange for a galleon a month. I thought that was a really great idea to help with the lack of business and the empty alley. 

“Back there.” The old man pointed me towards a small door in the back where there were more aisles of books and a label over the door that warned of privacy spells in effect. He had an American accent, it was faint, but he had a slight twang that sounded like a Kentucky Senator I met a few years ago. 

I was a little bit early for my meeting with Alex, but it did not appear to make a difference in the grand scheme of things. I walked into the room and stepped behind a shelf that hid the entrance from view, the noise from the shop owner wrapping his mystery books disappeared as soon as I crossed the threshold. This was a room dedicated to historical books, from world history to article collections by acclaimed journalists. One of these books was by Alice Novak, an American spy during the Second Wizarding War who kept very detailed records of the atrocities committed by Grindelwald supporters. 

A hard tap on my shoulder caught my attention.

I bit back a shriek in time to realize it was Alex.

Alex's ability to roar and rage at the drop of a hat really hid how quiet he could be the rest of the time. There was a contemplative silence to him, he watched the world with his stone gray eyes and took it in with a world-weary expression of discontent one would be more likely to find on an old man.

“Hey Aud.”

“Hey.” I hugged him before the moment slipped from my grasp, the comfortable smell of Sparkers cigarettes consuming my senses for a moment. “I’m sorry too.”

Alex stiffened before he put his arms around me, he never relaxed but he was making an effort and I would not say a word about it.

“So,” I released my brother and looked around the room, taking in the books and the presence of my grumpy brother in his black and gray robes that matched his hair. “What did you want to talk about?”

Alex flicked his wand at the door to engage another silencing spell on the door, the silence in the room becoming more consuming. Alex’s voice was low as he began to talk as extra security. “A couple of things. I’ve been wondering if anyone in your office knows about…”

“Dad? No. President Graves is a third cousin and my father works in wand regulations.”

“Good. There’s no chance of the truth coming out?”

“None, the Minister knows, but my file is sealed which irritates the Senior Undersecretary, but she’s such a slovenly lapdog she doesn’t complain in my hearing about it. She’s trying to get me out of the office, but she has nothing she can really use from my work history and she doesn’t have anything to complain about from my tenure with her, so it’s not really working.”

“And the family?”

“If you mean you and the children, I’ve mentioned Annie, but that’s a common name, I’ve never mentioned the baby and I’ve never mentioned you by name unless it was to people who know you.” 

“Thank you. It’s safer if we can’t be tied back to Jack.”

I nodded. 

We were quiet for a moment, Alex’s eyes moving over the spines of the books for a moment. I noted the backpack resting at his feet and was sure I could see the blue sleeve of a robe poking out of it. 

“Are you leaving?”

“I need to report back to my handlers. I expect I’ll be gone for some time.”

“You were out of touch with your friends for over a year last time.” I tried not to sound waspish but was not entirely successful.

Alex paused for a moment and inhaled slowly, “It’s for the greater good, Aud. I’m able and willing to do this thing that other people cannot. I don’t have a fussy girlfriend who needs me all the time, I don’t have any children who will be wondering where I am at bedtime and I have no affiliation with the Ministry that I have to cover.”

“None of this needs to fall on your shoulders.” Something clicked into place. Greyback. The wolfpack. Thalia. “Has a promise been made for the rights of werewolves? Is that why you’re still involved?”

Alex’s silence confirmed everything.

“Thalia loves you. She doesn't think that hollow promises from a madman are a way to make that kind of progress. Go home to her and stay for once in your life!”

Alex reached into his pocket and pulled out something small that he was keeping hidden in his hand for the moment before I caught a glimpse of the corner of a small velvet box.

Alex popped it open with a flick of his thumb. 

“Mom gave it to me before she died. Do you think Thalia will like it?”

He was changing the subject, but I figured this was the second thing he wanted to speak with me about.

It was a beautiful piece of jewelry, a silver band with intricate leaf and branch designs engraved upon it with a shining emerald in the center with two small diamonds on either side. 

“It’s beautiful. She’ll love it.” 

“She doesn’t like to wear jewelry, the furry little problem and her potion making, but maybe she can put it on a chain or something?”

“You’ll need a silver one to match the ring, something pretty, but sturdy and you could probably enchant it yourself.” 

Alex nodded, his expression softening with the thoughts of Thalia. It removed the lines of stress from his face and made him almost look like a younger man. His graying hair was always going to be a deterrent in that regard.

"This seems sudden," I chose my words carefully not wanting him to draw a conclusion and run off. "Thalia said she had not seen you for a long time before we met in the Undercroft."

"We're not…" Alex paused, "we're not a traditional couple. We don't want children. I don't even like children, don't give me that look Aud, it goes beyond the sibling age gap. Thalia and I can go months without seeing each other and we just come back together like we were never apart when we do. She likes her alone time to work and I like that she's not clingy so I can keep chasing big stories without worrying about her. There's a lot to be said for being able to function independently of your partner."

"That doesn't feel like a marriage. It sounds like roommates with tax benefits."

"That’s essentially what marriage is.”

“Don’t be cynical.”

“The tax breaks are a bit of it. If something happens to me, she gets my worldly possessions instead of the family. I left Jack and Vanessa the minimum to avoid it being contested in court. I intend to outlive Jack but I don't want any openings for Vanessa to swoop in."

He made it sound so grim, but the current state of things made me consider the option myself. Where would I leave my possessions? Who should get what? It was an interesting question that I should give some thought too. 

"Plus, anything that goes back to Jack eventually ends up in Vanessa's pocket to go to younger siblings I don't know. Thalia would not have real standing in court to contest my arrangements without marriage behind it. A werewolf contesting a will in court against the family of a MACUSA President is a tabloid’s dream and I don’t want there to be any doubts or loopholes to extort."

Werewolves had no standing in court. They're sentient in the law's eyes, but so tainted by their affliction that I doubted the Ministry would hear anything from Thalia once they realized what she was. Thalia was too close to Greyback's wolf pack and she would probably be arrested or threatened for walking into the Ministry. If it sounded cold to me, then perhaps the reality had been haunting Alex for a long time.

"I love Thalia, I want to make sure she's taken care of." He looked at me and while his words sounded performative, the softness in Alex's eyes said everything that his words alone could not express. Thalia had his heart and soul.

"If anything happens to me, you're getting Erebus."

"The bird that hates me?"

"Yeah, he hates you less than Thalia's dogs. Monty had a bald patch from all the hair Erebus pulled out of him."

Great.

"Just figured I would let you know."

I moved my fingers over some of the book spines on the shelf, every talk with my brother felt like a business arrangement. It was not what I pictured or remembered of sibling chats, though it was not as if Alex and I had been close before he left home.

“There’s one more thing.” Alex tapped his wand on his thigh to summon something out of the backpack laying at his feet.

I leaned over slightly to try and see what he pulled out.

It was a book, a very familiar looking one, a copy of the Graves family grimoire. It was tattered and worn with binding runes on the spine and gold leaf decorations on the cover surrounding a skull with the Graves family motto emblazoned beneath it.

Memento mori.

Remember you must die.

It was to remind us that death was inevitable, that all were equal in the eyes of the reaper from the frailest infant to the oldest human, the poorest of people and the richest of men. Death would come for everyone clad in the shroud of shadows and light. The only choice we had in life that truly mattered was how we met the reaper. 

Atticus Graves had put this book together over the years, collecting information on the various kinds of magic he encountered as an Auror, the dark magic, the counter-spells, records from other family members about things they had seen on the job and their own notations on the matter. There were also reportedly sections on healing spells from my great-aunt Armista, who worked in the law enforcement’s emergency medical team. It was something that the family had been piecing together for generations and passing on to their descendents, well, the ones who had talent and the ones who wanted to be Aurors. Annette would get a copy, she was both, Aldridge may someday as well, Jack did like the father-son bonding involved in the family history of warfare. 

I was never in the running to receive my own copy of this historic tome. I did look for it in Alex’s room after he left home, but I guess he had managed to take it with him after all.

The book was heavy in my hands, something that weighed heavily of history and familial duty. The pages burned when I touched them as if permission had to be granted to read the contents. Judging by the increasing aggression of whatever spells were placed on this book, it would be safe to assume that I did not yet have permission to read the grimoire.  

Alex waved farewell at the shopkeeper before he led me out to the empty streets of Diagon Alley where there was a slight break in the fog and overcast London sky to reveal an honest attempt at sunlight for a few feeble seconds.

“Why are you giving me this?” 

Alex shrugged, “I’ve read it cover to cover and have nothing else to learn from it. I would prefer it to end up in trusted hands and not in a secondhand shop. There’s a lot of… Questionable material in it. Grandpa Atticus had a very long career and that’s not even covering the other Graves relatives and the rest of the world does not need to know all of our family secrets.”

“You used this to get in with those people, didn’t you?”

It was a dumb question.

“I used what I learned from it to make my story credible, I did not hand them the actual book.” Alex rolled his eyes. “That would be stupid.”

“What did you tell them?” I slipped the grimoire into my bag with a wince, relieved that the heat of the book’s spells was no longer in my hands.

“The truth.” He lit a cigarette he pulled from his pocket, lighting the end with a brush of his fingers. “I don’t like muggles, I don’t know why we’re so scared of them when we have power at our fingertips.”

“You know why, they can’t handle the idea of magic. There’s more of them then there are of us and it would be chaos. Wix would never survive a conflict like that.”

“Grandma Ophelia never saw her family again after graduating from Ilvermorney.” Alex blew a couple of shimmering blue smoke rings. “She said MACUSA came and threatened her family into silence, promising to take her away if they spoke a word about magic to anyone. Their memories were wiped eventually, her father started talking with a Scourer, but MACUSA used to do that to all the Seeds families. They still do it today sometimes, I mean, look at Cassandra, MACUSA wiped her family’s memories before she even left for school.”

I thought about Cassandra’s cool demeanor and realized that I really knew nothing about her early life aside from her family being related too and potentially involved with Scourers. What I saw of Cassandra were things that I liked, she was steady, pleasant and stylish too. I did not see Cassandra often enough to build the kind of relationship where I felt comfortable engaging her in political discussions. 

“We suffer for our need to hide from the non magical, maybe we need to assert ourselves and prove we’re not to be messed with.”

I glanced away from Alex, his radical views leaving me feeling ill. I was not in the mood to fight with him today. The fight he was trying to pick with me would not work. If he was leaving, I would not have this be the lingering memory of what was a nice meeting between us.

There was a familiar head of red hair looking at my brother and I and my stomach dropped and twisted in excitement. I waved slowly and Percy walked over quickly with a broad smile, his cloak billowing out behind him from his rapid pace. He stopped next to me with a murmured hello and looked over at Alex.   

“Who’s this?” Alex’s tone was cold and suspicious as he looked Percy over.

The two men were the same height, Percy was perhaps an inch taller but the overt ferocity inherent in Alex made my brother's overall presence larger and more looming. Percy seemed blithely unaware of my brother's analyzing stare and his tense aura of potential malignance.

I was not sure if this encounter was a dream or a nightmare and my voice dried up in my throat.

Percy stuck his hand out to Alex with the well practiced smile of a man who worked closely with people of power and authority for a living. Alex's brow furrowed at the familiarity of the situation from growing up the son of a senator, he continued to size up Percy, taking in the younger man’s earnest smile before glancing over at me with a quizzical expression, his cigarette pressed between his lips.

Percy solved the problem of my caught throat by introducing himself. “Percy Weasley, I have the pleasure of working with Audrey in the Minister’s Support Staff Office.”

“I see.” Alex looked between the two of us with a stoney stare before he submitted to the handshaking instinct instilled in us by a political upbringing. “Graves.”

Percy waited with an expectation of a first name but Alex turned his attention back to me with no additions, instead blowing a sparkling blue smoke ring into the air.

Rude. 

“As I was saying-”

“It takes no effort for you to be nice to my friends.” I kept my voice low, an air of menace slipping into my words. Alex could speak to me how he pleased, I really don't care, but he was not going to speak to Percy like that. Percy had been keeping me sane enough to only entertain the idea of strangling Umbridge and not plan the crime.

“Theo,” The lie fell from Alex’s tongue with a practiced ease that I recognized in myself. “Theo Graves.”

I understood the lies, intellectually I knew it was to help my story if needed, but lying about his first name felt like he was trying to erase his identity, an attempt to slide back into the persona he wore with horrible, hateful people. 

Alex could keep his secrets, I was sure he had a long list of them.

Percy remained the pinnacle of politeness with his professional smile and only a momentary frustrated tightness to his expression at the overt snub. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, he paused for a moment as I glared at him just out of Percy’s view, doing my best to find the rage that Lucinda wanted me to find inside myself so I could put enough discomfort in Alex to make him polite for ten minutes.

“Likewise.” 

Hm. My attempt to instill some fear in my brother might have worked. No. Nevermind. He was back to looking at me and trying to block Percy out so he would say his goodbyes and move on. Why is my family so messy?

“What brings you out today, Percy?” I asked, my voice pleasant as I tried to cover my brother’s rudeness with the general social pleasantries.

Alex seemed to have given up for the moment and was looking up and down the alley as he continued to exhale more elaborate smoke shapes for his own entertainment.

“I’m running some errands, Gringotts, and the library.” 

“You said you work for the Minister?” Alex decided to respond at last, changing the subject before taking another drag of his cigarette. “What exactly is the Minister’s plan to handle the crisis? Just keep locking people up without trials until he gets to Voldemort or what?”

At the mention of Voldemort’s name, Percy made a strangled sort of noise.

Oh, by the Twelve…

“Don’t say that!”

“Say what? The name?”

“Yes!”

“You have an answer for me about the Ministry’s efficiency in finding this menace then?”

Percy looked as done with Alex as I believed Alex to be with him, but Percy was more polite than my brother and just as driven. Walking away would mean surrender and that was not something I believed to be in Percy’s stubborn nature. 

“Mr. Graves, your daughter would know as much about that as I would.” 

Alex’s face was both offended and horrified.  

The memory of Percy's confusing my cousin Quincy for my boyfriend came to the forefront of my mind. Sweet Merlin in the cradle. 

Percy just offended Alex’s vanity and his daddy issues in one sentence. Two birds, one stone indeed! 

“I’m her brother, you stupid tit!” 

Percy’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly as his face turned red in embarrassment, the color moving to his neck and the tips of his ears. With Percy's history I was expecting something worse than a logical leap involving the Graves graying problem.  

"You have other friends right?” Alex looked at me with a serious expression.

I stayed perfectly still with only the barest nod of my head. 

“Please, endeavor to spend more time with them.” He shot a meaningful glare at Percy, who was beginning to sputter apologies that Alex had no time for as he turned and walked down the deserted alley. 

It took a moment for me to begin to try and salvage that mess.

“I’m sorry about my brother.”

“Don’t apologize for him," Percy's tone was clipped and direct, almost snappish.

"The men in my family go gray early. My brother isn't quite thirty yet. He’s a little sensitive about it.”

That sounds terrible.

Percy seemed to understand this faux pas in a man-to-man way I could not, a man’s insecurity with his hair was not something I would ever be able to grasp.

“Why did you think he was my father?”

“He looks older than thirty, Audrey! I thought he had come to try and convince you to go back to the States or something. It seemed a logical idea at the time!”

I found myself giggling, the noise turning into a genuine laughter as the stress of meeting Alex seemed to melt away. Percy seemed to relax as my demeanor shifted.

“If you could walk me home, I would appreciate it.”

“Gladly.” 

Oo0Oo0

I wish I had an easier time being affectionate with people. It’s not an issue specific to Percy, but I’m not sure how to do this right and not make it weird. I’m not sure I can verbalize the thought without sounding stupid or childish. 

I glanced down the hallway before looking up at Percy who was looking at me with a curious expression as I stood in the doorway of my apartment, lingering and thinking over something I had been mulling over for a couple of weeks now. 

“I’ll see you later then.”

“Wait.”

He stopped before he could turn to leave. “Yes?”

“Ah…” I bit my lower lip between my teeth as I tried to grasp my nerve again. “May I kiss you goodbye?” 

He looked surprised, his eyes were wide and his glasses had slid slightly down his nose. He nodded slowly, bending forward slightly as I took a step forward to close the distance between us.

There was a finality to this. It would be harder to forget and continue on as coworkers if this did not work out and we ended it. The line between what was an affectionate friendship and something much more grew thinner with the more time we spent together and the shrinking physical distance between us.

I shifted my weight to stand on the tips of my toes.

There was no alcohol or high moods to use as an excuse to scrub this away. 

What do I do with my hands?

I settled for bringing them to rest on his shoulders, it seemed the safer option and kept him still as I closed my eyes like all those heroines I had read about in my life and leaned forward to press my lips against his. I missed his lips and found the corner of his mouth instead. I could feel the tension in his shoulders lessen as he relaxed slightly under my hands and quiet chuckle near my ear before his hand moved to caress my cheek and guide my mouth to his.

Chapter Text

February 14, 1997

With Misty and Zara now sharing an apartment their living room was a fascinating mixture of both of their major interests and was, as a result, very fun to look at. Zara had some Holyhead Harpies posters on various spots on the wall, the players flying between the posters in a practice game. Misty had a large bookshelf next to the couch, there were books of goblin lore and placed between each section were various small, metal objects that looked handmade. Misty said they were from her grandfather and would be returned to the head of the family, whichever full blooded goblin that would be, after Misty’s death. They were charms of protection and could apparently see around the apartment, telling Misty who was at her door before they even knocked.

Fascinating and useful.

Also creepy. 

Zara filled the wine glasses as Misty sat down on the floor with her back pressed against the couch with a very smug expression as she examined me from across the table. It was like she was a shark who could sense weeks worth of guilt about things I had been hiding for a few weeks. Misty played with a stray red curl as Zara sat down next to her, her bright blue eyes shimmering with anticipation.

"So, how've you been?" Misty asked in her usual playful tones.

It was like that, huh?

"It's been interesting." I took a sip of wine and did my best to stay calm, curling my toes in the fluffy dark carpet. 

Misty leaned back against the couch, relaxed and unhurried, but her expression was one of a kind of smug knowledge. 

“So, how’s Percy?”

“He’s fine. Why do you ask?” I tried not to think about the flowers I had received this morning from the man in question and the fancy chocolate I had sent back with Hermes. 

Zara spoke next, her smile was wolfish. “Just curious. Unless it’s an American thing to kiss your coworkers at the door of your home.”

I could feel my face take a shade of red hence unknown to the world at large. “I don’t what you think you saw-”

“A lot.”

Well, they both knew. 

“Why were you at my apartment building?”

Zara waved her hand before taking a drink of wine. “One of my teammates had to borrow my weights. I can’t send an owl carrying thirty pounds, but that’s not the point. The real questions are how long has this been going on? Did you drag him into your flat for a passionate night?”

My head tilted slightly like a confused crup. “After one date? That’s a thing?”

It was more than one date at this point, but I'm not going to open that door myself. Also, I had legitimate concerns that maybe I had screwed something up already.

Misty pinched Zara’s arm before she summoned another bottle of wine from the kitchen and placed it in the center of the table. “Zara, I don’t think either of them would be into that on the first date.”

“True, but there’s always a chance we’re wrong about that.” Zara waved her hand dismissively, "I mean, I didn't expect either of them to snog at a Ministry party but here we are. Besides, war tends to speed up romance doesn’t it?”

The wine was swirling inside my head like a white fog as I put my glass down on the table with a clink. “Wha-?”

“Sex darling. Sex.”  

My face was so warm at this point I was sure it was glowing as my head moved slowly down until my forehead hit the table with a soft bang. 

I felt someone move closer by shuffling along on the carpet to put a hand on my back in a rather maternal gesture. “Zara, be nice. Americans don’t really have good sex education.” Misty rubbed my back slowly, tinges of laughter evident in her tone.

“Right, Puritans.”

The noise I made was somewhere between choking and laughter as I picked my head up off the table to retort. “I’d hardly call it a wartime romance, not at the speed we’re going.”

Zara and Misty looked at each other before looking back at me with matching expressions. 

“I thought you two were going to be all over each other?” Misty’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"Yeah, like rabbits."

“I… We’re… It’s complicated.”

“Situations are never complicated if you break them down into small parts,” Misty’s voice was soft and confident, compelling me to consider speaking of things that had long dogged my heels. A part of me wanted to mention my complicated family, that it was past time for honesty and I knew it would have to be a discussion in the future, but a part of me was not ready, there was too much going on and I liked the normality that I was treated with. I did not want that to change. Some part of me suspected Misty may have put the pieces together, but if she had the good grace not to mention it or confront me on the matter then I assumed it was not an issue if she had found out the truth of my relations. My opinion of Misty being a perceptive, politically informed individual had always held water.

“The extent of my relationship talk at home was don’t have sex, don’t get pregnant, it’ll embarrass the family, though there was no talk about how that worked.” Zara looked at me with wide eyes and Misty winced, seemingly not prepared for the talk about where babies came from. “I figured it out eventually, we had a very active school Healer who left pamphlets out about health on ‘accident’ whenever she had the opportunity.”

“Wow,” Zara breathed, her expression a combination of confused and concerned. "I didn't think you all were so… Prudish."

An unbidden memory came upon me. "My father said once that my name was almost Prudence, after a distant ancestor or something."

"Ew."

I agreed with the sentiment. Constance as a middle name seemed an acceptable compromise by comparison.

Misty sighed and moved her empty wine glass aside “Anyway, let’s have this discussion. Weasleys are famously fertile.”

I fumbled about for my glass of wine. I was intrigued by this conversation, but not drunk enough to get through it. I quickly threw back my head to down the rest of the wine in my glass as Misty propped her elbows on the coffee table with an absolutely delighted grin.

“Okay, I have actually had a man or two-“ Zara rolled her eyes as Misty continued, “it’s not as bad as you think it’s gonna be.”

My shoulders rolled in a shrug, “I’ve never put much thought into it to be honest.”

Zara’s mouth fell open, while Misty giggled. “Too busy thinking about politics I’ll bet.”

Lack of interest from the opposite sex actually, but let’s go with that.

I smiled awkwardly, “Mostly that.”

"Mostly?" Zara's tone was incredulous. "You're cute, you should have had a line of idiots waiting for you to be single! Really, if you ever want to try women I can make introductions!"

"Thank you." I did not think my face could get any redder, but here I was.

“Okay, let’s establish a baseline here,” Misty started, her aura growing more maternal as she tapped her wand a couple of times on the table before waving it around over her head in a grand motion as books flew out of her private office down the short hallway. I caught a glimpse of a few of the covers featuring muscled men ripping off their robes while caressing beautiful women as I refilled my wine glass. Some part of me knew she had been waiting for an opportunity like this. “How much dating did you do at Ilvermorny?”

“Not much, just that idiot Gavin Bowman I told you about. The guy who shoved his tongue down my throat behind the Rose Garden the day before graduation and I never saw or heard from him again.”

The books landed next to Misty who started sorting them quickly into two piles. One in the far corner of the table, the spines with the titles facing away from me, the other pile was on Misty’s other side where I could not see anything at all.

“Ugh!" Zara huffed, “What an idiot!”

“He was!” I nodded solemnly in agreement as I played with the hem of my sleeve. “All he did was play Quadpot, alarmingly good at Charms too.” 

“So, he was basically Oliver Wood then?”

The three of us laughed.

The ice broken, Misty tossed a thick tome on the coffee table from the stack next to her. “This is a woman’s bible. Everything you need to know about your body, pregnancy prevention, relationships, wellness exams, sex positions etcetera.” I pulled the book closer to me, opening it to a random page in an inexplicable curiosity. “The pictures move.”

"Oh goodness!" I slammed the book closed after glimpsing awkward things crafted by writhing diagrams of tongues and hands and other things in full detail. I thought it would be like a medical textbook with drawings that had the good grace to stay still for educational purposes. Not photographs and silhouettes of… touching themselves and others. Reading about the act in vague detail in my novels was a far different experience then this pure visuality. 

Misty pulled up some more books from the other side of the coffee table, as I recollected my composure. “These are some romance novels I got while I was in Saint Mungo’s with Verrons disease a few years ago.”

Zara raised an eyebrow, “I never pegged you as the romance novelist type.”

“I was high as a broom tester, couldn’t focus on anything heavier because I would forget the details. I could pick these up and piece everything together from the melodrama.” Misty put the books on top of the other book she had given to me. “Anyway, they’re fun if nothing else. I have a few more substantial classics in there also.”

I examined a copy of The Hedgewitch's Lover with trepidation. 
    
“This was banned in the states when it was published." I turned it over to read the back cover. "I’ve never actually read it.”

“The one that started it all,” Misty sighed. “It’s good, it’s not just a classic for the scandal it caused at publication.” She dug through the pile of books some more. “This one is about a lesbian couple, terrifically raunchy, lots of oral which is why I’m recommending it.”

My wine stupor had slowed the part of my brain I often used for word definitions. 

Misty was quick to catch on to my wine fog. "We'll let you figure that out on your own. I promise it sounds weird and feels better than you think it does." Her smile was teasing as she looked over at a flushed Zara.

My brain finally snapped to the pieces of my knowledge from reading various literary works to the words coming out of Misty's mouth. I felt my mouth snap closed, I was unaware of when it had fallen open.

Zara stepped in at this point, her voice low and comforting. "At no point do you need to do anything you are uncomfortable with. You can say no and kick any partner you have out of your bed or your flat at any point and if they give you attitude, call me and I'll help you handle it."

I nodded.

"Sex is a lot more than just dropping your pants and thinking of England."

I almost told them I still felt very American but thought better of it as Misty continued.

"You need to like your partner, but you also need to trust them to listen to you. You both need to know how to communicate with one another about what you like. Which means you can’t expect someone to just look at you and know exactly how you work if you do not have an idea yourself. You need to be prepared to teach."

My head tilted slightly.

"Read that book there, do the exercises, it'll help. Also, I don't care if it's your first time or not, if you’re relaxed and prepared it won’t hurt, if it does, it won’t last long or you can stop until you’re less nervous and do other things. It's different, but you're supposed to have fun and you can't do that if you don't have a clue about what's going on with you, your partner or your body. Find out what you like and you'll have a much better experience. Oh, and use lube."

Zara made an agreeable noise as she summoned a cheesecake that had been left in the kitchen to soften. Plates and utensils followed suit, dancing through the air as if carried by the wind. 

"If you have any questions, please ask either of us."

Zara nodded and began to place pieces of cheesecake on plates, passing them to Misty and I in turn before settling back with a happy sigh. The three of us sat in silence for a few minutes, I was happy to do so to focus on this dessert, letting the crisp crust and soft cream cheese topped with fruits rest on my tongue and consume my attention as I caught a grip on my thoughts. 

"So…" I started slowly, feeling both out of my depth and prepared from spending my school years sharing a room with a rebellious pastor's daughter who had her sexual awakening relatively early. "Thank you for all of the books, but why is there a magazine about bras in here?"

Zara blushed brightly, her face a violent pink that I had never associated with her. It contrasted and complimented the streaks of purple in her hair and her green Harpies shirt. 

Misty was quick to answer, “Sometimes a woman wants pretty things. Sometimes her partner likes them too.”

Zara was focusing on the harpies poster behind me with a wide eyed expression.

I blinked a couple of times, feeling both very drunk and very interested. 

“They’re more for you, sometimes wearing nice knickers can give you the final confidence boost to seduce. Of course, men will look for thirty seconds before getting them off you because they have no sense of artistry.”

There was something I wanted to ask, but I was if it was appropriate- oh, screw it!

“How bad was your ex-boyfriend?”

Misty snickered, “Oh Christopher?”

Zara rolled her eyes.

“He was fine mostly, nice man, but bad with money and equally bad in bed. Never listened to me about either topic. He was like a really bad drummer, he had no rhythm.”

“I didn’t like him,” Zara chimed in before taking an almost spiteful bite of cheesecake. “Can’t like a person who disrespects the Chudley Cannons.”

“That terrible Quidditch team?”

Zara shrugged, “They’re nice and a very relaxed early season match, it gives us a chance to test our weird plays in the field.”

I filled my empty wine glass with water with a wave of my wand, barely noticing the dryness in the air from the spell. 

“Oh!” Misty’s hair seemed to perk upwards in excitement. “Birth control!”

“Yep! If you get pregnant, apparently you can’t drink.” Zara commented with a swish of her newly refilled wine glass. “A real shame.”

That would be a shame. The wine I had picked out for this gathering was incredibly good. It would be a shame to squander my talents for a year or so through an accidental pregnancy.

I mean, I liked children and children seemed to like me back for some reason. My time as an Ilvermorny student aid was generally spent comforting homesick eleven year olds and organizing small events for them like board game nights and teaching them small, useless magic that would change the color of cheese or their glasses. One of the more unusual girls had latched onto me very hard until she managed to find some friends of her own. Meaning that I arranged the introductions at a game night for her and another awkward child. They hit it off and I got to go back to studying for my final exams. 

It probably helped that I had a weird sister.

“Don’t let men lie to you about this,” Misty’s voice cut through my thoughts and brought me back to attention. “There is a birth control potion for men, so it’s not just something you need to worry about.”

“Really? I don’t remember that from the pamphlets.” 

“Because America wants to teach shame,” Zara stated dryly, causing Misty to giggle. 

“It’s more complicated to make apparently. That’s the excuse. Makes no sense to me but I’m not a potioneer. It’s not something men have ever truly concerned themselves with in any case, it might be why it’s not a mainstream idea.” Misty drummed her fingers on the table in thought before taking her final bite of cheesecake. “They’ve gotten away with irresponsibility for centuries, why start taking responsibility now?”

“Anyway, it’s very possible to get by just by taking yours, but take it on time every week. I wouldn’t make this at home, I’d get a professional to do it.”

I did not think I had any more questions at this point, Misty had given me a lot of material to read and far more to think about over the next few weeks when I was sober.

  Oo0Oo0

I returned to my apartment to place the books Misty had given me on the trunk at the foot of my bed before falling face down in my pillows. My mind was a bit fuzzy, but the water kept me clear headed to remember the conversation I had with them about sex. Merlin that was heady.

Though… I was kind of intrigued to put a semblance of something real together instead of trying to piece together Chastity's innuendos and giggly observations.

I reached over to the trunk to pull the large, thick reference book Misty had given me from under the pile of tawdry romances. 

It would be easier to face this now while I was still slightly inebriated. I was not convinced I could examine these diagrams sober.

I skipped the chapters on health and home care, I would return to those at a later date. The thing that interested me now was something that was more forbidden and foreign to my life. These passages spoke of potions and oils for lubrication and other things that I was getting an overload of information about. 

Was this something I would want down the road? Some part of me had dwelled on it, allowed it to cross my mind during the lonely hours of the night. What it may be like to share my bed with another person. Was it the loneliness and the stress of living in a country at war? The urges of a young woman who had very little idea of what a healthy relationship between two involved adults looked like? Well, Tavish and Lucinda, but they were friends, not lovers, though I had heard that friendship was the basis of good relationships and that it required honesty, trust, like what Zara and Misty clearly had. Cornelius Fudge was an idiot, but he did love Elizabeth and their marriage was clearly more than politics and my parents had liked each other at one point in their lives, though whether or not the trust or affection between my parents had been more than a youthful folly remained up for debate.

I can’t think about my parents and other middle aged people while I’m looking at pictures in a chapter titled Sex and Sensuality. 

I turned the page quickly to remove the image from my sight to find more detailed guides and accompanying pictures about self-pleasure with a discussion on consistency and peaks.  

There was a diagram of the male anatomy that made me turn the pages faster. 

Is… Is that one of those adult toys Chastity was talking about in our final year?

Mortified, I flipped forward several pages, the pages becoming a blur of moving pictures and explanations from interviewees about what exactly was happening. The pages moved so quickly under my thumb that there was a cool breeze and the smell of a new book that washed over me.

I stopped on a random page.

Childbirth.

I knew about this in theory, but not with such veracity.

There was a head emerging into the world right there on the page.

I slammed the book closed and felt my legs curl up to my chest. I had dwelled on the idea of children, but also accepted the fact I may never have any if I never found the right person to share my strange circumstances in life. Sure, I had dropped Annette and cackled when Aldridge peed on Vanessa, but I generally liked children. The vacant stares of confusion from babies was amusing to me and watching Annette develop her strong personality was admittedly fascinating. I never really put much thought into what was involved in the childbirth process, I was just told to avoid any risk of a pregnancy.

I doubted that was something told to boys with the same sense of warning or threatened with the social shame of promiscuity. 

There were some things I was sure I was not ready for right now and for the moment sex was pretty close to the top of the list.

Maybe I would have another look tomorrow.  

Chapter Text

February 18, 1997

"Audrey," Elihu leaned against the wall and sipped at his traveler's mug of coffee. Percy and the Minister were finishing a meeting in the Minister's Office and Umbridge had closed the door to her office to do some paperwork. "Can I have a moment of your time?"

This sounded serious.

I stood up and waved him back out of the doorway to lead him to the break room. If we were bothered, I could just say I was getting him more coffee. Everyone knew I hid my favorite creamers.

The walk to the break room was filled with idle chatter, but I knew Elihu better than to let his cynical views of British weather act as a curtain. I had not had a chance to speak with Elihu in person for a couple of weeks, our exchanges of letters were generally related to history and current affairs, both British and American, and whatever political theory I was reading about that week. This week was fascism.

We stepped into the break room and I began to check my coffee press and start it for a fresh pot while Elihu looked around the room and took a deep breath, finally speaking as I poured the water in to allow the coffee to steep.

"This is awkward," Elihu began to speak in a low, embarrassed tone as I moved my mortar and pestle for my coffee grounds aside and gave him my full attention, "but your father has compelled me to ask by promising that I will not know peace again if I do not. I know. I'm sorry. Believe me this is far more awkward for me than it is for you." Elihu took another deep breath. "You're not staying in this country for a boy are you?"

I needed to pick my mouth up from the floor but was too shocked to even manage that.

"What?"

Elihu looked deeply uncomfortable. "I'm asking to get him off my ass, believe me I've been putting this off and I don't believe this is in any part of my job description. I checked. Twice."

"Who does he think I'm seeing?"

Elihu looked increasingly uncomfortable and instead of speaking he pointed his thumb towards the direction of the office. "Um…"

I thought back to my meeting with Jack at the gala to fill in Elihu's awkwardness over the matter and inhaled sharply through my teeth, the hissing noise sounding like steam from a boiling tea kettle.

Great. 

Fantastic.

I knew the lies would come, but I didn't think I'd have to do it to Elihu's face in this manner.

"Does my father find me stupid?"

Elihu winced, his desire to not have anything close to this conversation was all over his face.

"Elihu, why ask when you know the answer, which is no. There is no involvement of any sort and my father continues to see things that do not exist aside from his own paranoia and misplaced concern. I'm struggling to understand why he is concerned considering our estrangement."

Lying to Elihu sucks. He keeps giving me his lawyer stare, as if he can sense the duplicity that Umbridge and Scrimgeour can't. The hardness of his eyes is at war with his experience in the courtroom and his knowledge of me. I hoped the latter would win out enough for us to move on.

Something won out, but I wasn't sure what and he stepped back with a more relaxed expression. "I believe you. You're not the type to mix business and pleasure."

You hold onto that idea, Elihu.

"As to the why," Elihu pulled two letters out of his pocket and handed them to me. They were dated from late December, I had been busy running errands for the office and had not had a chance to see Elihu when he met with the Minister in his own office, nor had he enjoyed the chance to see me on other occasions due to having meetings with other departments.

'I have come to the conclusion that Audrey is staying in that crumbling country for a boy… I have some questions, namely about that young man you complain about in your weekly reports… I had suspicions some time ago, a young man coming up from nothing who you seemed to imply was far too friendly with Audrey… ‘As poor as a Weasley’... A top student at Hogwarts, Head Boy (I will not make the joke), and his first job ended in an inquiry… took full control of a powerful Ministry office for several months without anyone noticing…. According to your predecessor… he has been a long term pain in the ass… over-ambitious clerk and an unrestrained policy wonk… Please, send anything else you know about this Percy Weasley ASAP.'

By the fucking Twelve!

"Why Percy of all people?"

I hoped that sounded as dismissive and confused as I hoped it would. 

"Uh, well… he apparently rankled the old MACUSA representative when he was working in International Magical Cooperation. Refused to break policy to be useful basically and Upton generally has no patience for teenagers."

I raised an eyebrow, I didn't know Elihu's predecessor for the position, Richard Upton and my father ran in different circles. Upton was older, from another party and had spent the last ten years running the embassy office in London, so his path had never crossed with mine. Elihu had mentioned in a letter that he was sure Upton had a bit of say in his replacement and was also very burned out on the post after serving for so long.

"I'll need more clarification than that."

"I like to write and I have space to fill on the meeting reports… I may have mentioned that I saw you two talking in a few of them. These reports are like journal entries, I didn't just get this job because I know about international political law, Cunningham sent me here because of all of my detailed reports. I'm good at including names, items of interest, just a bunch of little things that could be useful later.” He meant gossip, but I wasn’t going to correct him. “This isn't something I should mention because of your position here, but well… you know what it is."

I gave Elihu the most vicious look I could muster and prayed I looked like my father in the moment. The ability to look like a large, fierce thing the way my father and Alex had no problem doing. Elihu's impassive and awkward expression told me I was unsuccessful. Well, at least now I could put my father's comment at the gala into context, he was several days too soon in his assumption but it did explain partially why he said what he did about Percy being an over-ambitious clerk.

"When I didn't answer him, he asked your cousin who, while willing to defy your father, is not dumb enough or secure enough in his career to do so right now.

Quincy would not risk being separated from Cassandra. Though, Quincy being out of Jack's hair overseas was more of a boon for Jack than having Quincy at home to be a pest. I doubted Quincy could see that in the heat of the moment of getting a letter from his uncle. Quincy knew he was not my father's favorite anything, though being favored by our grandfather offered him a lot of leeway in other ways.

"Tell my father that I am staying because I want to. If he asks for a reason, tell him I'm enjoying this show of government competence." My tone was sarcastic and cutting, I was as fed up with this nonsense as Elihu was. Honestly, the nerve of Jack Graves was not something I wanted turned in my direction again.

"I will be sure to do that. Sorry about all of this."

"No trouble, I'm just sorry you're stuck in the middle of this family drama."

Elihu shrugged, his grin both lazy and relieved. "I'm very entertained by it and intend to add it to my memoir. If Jack wants a legacy, I'll help him get one that's actually interesting."

The laughter that poured out of me was hearty and genuine.

"He's such a clown!" Elihu choked out before his laughter began to overtake him. "Really! Just completely out of his cauldron!" 

A knock on the door frame caught our attention, Percy was looking between the two of us with a stern expression, his gaze mostly focused on Elihu. 

"The Minister is ready to see you."

"Perfect timing, Weasley, as always." Elihu moved to the coffee press to top off his traveler's mug with a grin. "I'll be there in just a minute."

"Creamer's in the top cabinet behind the napkins," I said to Elihu's back as I allowed myself a moment to look at Percy and give him a smile the way I couldn't when we were in the office. The corner of Percy's mouth moved upwards for a sliver of a moment as I stole his attention from glaring at Elihu's back. 

"I'll inform the Minister you'll be there momentarily," Percy's tone was short and professional before he slipped out of sight. I could hear his feet growing fainter down the hallway.

Elihu's voice cut through me like a sudden cold wind. "I think your father is wrong in this, I don't think he's your type at all."

He shook my shoulder with a chuckle as he passed by me to return to the Minister’s office for his meeting. 

I felt like if I told Elihu about being involved with Percy he would probably have a stroke for a whole host of reasons.

Oo0Oo0

February 22, 1997

Quincy and Cassandra both received a stipend from the MACUSA Embassy to fund a place for them to live. The idea was it would be used for individual Aurors, generally people did not want to live with their coworkers, but Quincy and Cassandra were very engaged and very in love, so it surprised no one when they told the secretary they needed the rental paperwork filed for the same address after the war on Voldemort was officially declared.

The secretary won a sickle from 1882 from Auror Hanlon for her coin collection for predicting the correct date of their filing. Her claims of seer blood were diminished by her lack of foresight on the rise of a dark wizard being the catalyst.

Aurors Jenkins and Mankiller had agreed to be roommates, it felt safer as they both stood out for their accents and general appearance marking them as foreigners. I imagined they sat around and talked about hunting in their off-time and comparing the antler points on their deer. I understood none of those discussions, I just knew more points was a better trophy and there was an elusive fifteen point on a magical reserve and that the pair had been trying to hunt it for almost three years, luckily the creature was a bit intelligent.  

The last time I had a chance to speak with Mankiller, he said they were planning to apply for a raffle to hunt grizzlies in Alaska on their first vacation in the States when they finished their posting assignment at the Embassy. Something to look forward too. I did not understand the appeal of living in a tent in Alaska for a month but different strokes for different folks, I guess.

Cassandra was cooking something in a large pot on the stove, something spicy that smelled like seafood. I was sure she was making gumbo, but I didn't think it would be like the one Aunt Araminta made back in New Orleans, all the heat and spice that would make my nose run and make me beg for a drink of milk to chase it down. Uncle John made his a bit more mild because, as he put it, he refused to breathe fire like a dragon.

I curled up in the armchair as Quincy examined the grimoire that Alex gave me with an incredulous expression. 

"I still can't believe you found him. Let alone saw him twice! That's amazing!" He turned the book over and examined the cover, prodding it with his wand to make sparks fly into the air from the magical contact. "Alex put his own spells over grandpa's, I'll need a few minutes to sort them out."

"That's fine, take as long as you need."

"I'm shocked you never got your own copy," Cassandra stepped out of the kitchen, her blonde hair was pulled back in a long plait down her back. Cassandra Barebone was a very pretty woman with sparkling eyes and a crooked, confident smile. Her black sweater contrasted her pale appearance in a dramatic fashion and I noted the new secondary piercings in her ears. I would have to find her some earrings for her next birthday. "Alex and Quincy got theirs, I thought you would at least get one yourself."

"Alex and Quincy were actually good at dueling," I pointed out, managing not to sound bitter about the matter. "It's fine."

Quincy scoffed, "Grandpa was having us practice with you, we were bigger and more experienced, you were never going to do well in his eyes under those circumstances. You got a good blood boiling hex off on me once, but we're too nice to actually hit me with it."

"It's all a bit of a blur, really."

"Probably from all those times I put you in the dirt. Sorry about that."

"Oh, don't worry about it."

Quincy gave me a relieved smile, perhaps those events had been weighing on his mind for some time. He brushed a stray loc from his face and focused his attention back on the grimoire, his teeth sinking into his lip as he concentrated on the tome.

Cassandra raised an eyebrow from her position in the kitchen doorway. "That thing has always creeped me out."

"What? The skull? It's on all the family cremation tombs."

"Yeah, but the little scythes give me weird vibes. It makes you all look like grim reapers."

I was sure the scythes were a calling card of Forscythe Graves who was the first to write down his law enforcement experiences and create the family record, he had added what remained of his father, Gondulphus' records before sending the originals to MACUSA for safekeeping. Forscythe really loved that reaper aesthetic and the fear it could cause, apparently. 

Quincy laughed, "You're marrying into this family, Cass, so I guess you'll be one too."

"You're twisted."

"I love you too."

The looks they gave one another were so affectionate I turned my attention to the wall to admire the landscape paintings and wildlife portraits on the walls alongside their Auror graduation diplomas that bore my father’s signature as the sitting president during their graduation and induction alongside Elihu’s tight handwriting, who acted as presenter and witness. If I wasn't here, they would probably be making out or something and I never wanted to bear witness to that kind of display. Some things were best kept private.

I’m glad these two weirdos found each other.

"Cassandra, can I ask you something?" 

"Sure." She came over and sat down next to Quincy on the couch, a healthy space between the pair as Quincy tried to decipher my brother's spell work. "What's going on?"

"You're a Seed right?"

"I am." 

"I heard you were related to a Scourer family," Cassandra's mouth tightened, "I'm sorry, I was just curious. I realized I don't know you very well and…"

Quincy glanced over and Cassandra's face relaxed to her usual calm expression. I always perceived Cassandra as quiet, never shy, just very reserved. She balanced Quincy’s jovial personality very well and was still willing to get involved in his more silly, controversial ideas like protesting my father in his own office. 

"It's alright. The Barebones have a long history of witch hunting and generally believed themselves to be good at it." Cassandra paused thoughtfully, "They were more of a threat to children then a fully trained wix. I think most of those who were mostly captured were No-Majs who didn't fall in line with the conservative fractions of society."

My head bobbed in agreement, No-Majs were scared of things they couldn't comprehend. 

I knew some things about witch hunting in the United States, the campaigns themselves were ineffective, Salem being a prime example of hysteria and ineffectiveness mixed in with greed for coveted land and property. Those No-Majs who admitted to witchcraft, even if they had no magic, would lose their farm to those who sat in judgment over their supposed crimes. An incident where a man named Giles Corey refused to confess led to him being crushed by rocks to secure his land and property for his children. It was a horrific death, where he laid a curse on the sheriffs of Salem with his dying breath. That was one of the main causes of the witch trials coming to an end. There were rumors that Corey still haunted Salem, but No-Majs did not leave true ghosts, if anything was left of a No-Maj it would be an imprint of a traumatic death, a shade, not a true ghost. It was the thing that gave credence to Giles Corey just being a very angry No-Maj, not a wix, a topic that was debated due to his potent curse on the sheriffs of Salem.

Salem is tied into a lot of aspects of magical life in America, the Salem Witches Academy also houses a massive historical archive for public use called the Salem Witches Institute. They were scholars and librarians who guarded this collection and managed the ghosts and shades of Salem, keeping them from the eyes of the non-magical. Though their ability to pass on shades seemed questionable, Giles Corey just kept coming back. MACUSA categorized shades that returned as wraiths, spiteful spirits who were not true ghosts, not dangerous, mostly nonviolent, but had a sense of purpose that they took into death.

Cassandra continued, her low voice adding an increasingly ominous air to her story. "My grandmother and my uncle fully believed in witches walking among us. My father thought they were crazy and ran away to college in Boston where he met my mom. Things were okay for a while. Then I started doing magic."

I felt myself freeze.

"My father snapped. His idea of the world was shattered and he swayed my mother about my unnaturalness. I was the evidence that he had long denied about magic and witchcraft, the very thing he called his family insane over. He went running to his family, telling tales and the Scourer's way is to kill the witch."

Cassandra's calm tones belated the wide eyes of Quincy, who I was sure heard this story before. Cassandra was in front of me and still very much alive, but I couldn't ignore the surge of worry for this younger version of this calm, wry woman.

"Ilvermorny found my name in the Book of Craft and alerted MACUSA. Thankfully, MACUSA keeps a very close eye on the Seed children, especially if the child is in… tricky circumstances. If a Seed ends up in No-Maj foster care, they will spirit them away to magical homes to protect them from Scourer families and stop the kids from revealing magic out of stress. In my case, my last name got a lot of attention so they were sending Aurors and apprentices to keep an eye on me until they could work out if I needed to be removed and how to do so."

"Not someone from the Enforcers? I know they’re part of the same department, but that seems… extreme for matters involving a child, even one whose family history includes the origin of Rappaport’s Law.”

"You’re not wrong. The Barebones are incompetent wix hunters, but that doesn't mean they're not dangerous. The Auror posed as a neighbor and kept an eye on things." Cassandra paused for a moment, collecting herself. "When my father and his family came into my house to kill me for my magic, Auror Mankiller saved my life."

“Your Auror mentor?”

“He’s an inspiring man,” Cassandra nodded. “He saved my life, erased the memories of my parents and my father's family, to them I never existed. Within the coming weeks, the same could be said for the rest of the world. Onacona told me it would be safer for me to be among my own kind and that he would stay with me until a place could be found for me in the magical world."

I was at a loss for words, “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Cassandra shrugged. “It’s in the past.”

I never knew any of this. To attempt to murder a child was a monstrous crime, to do so for the child having what were perceived to be unnatural powers was to horrible for words. I knew the history of the Scourers, how they began as wizarding mercenaries, bounty hunters before MACUSA had established itself. Bounty hunters who were ruthless in their pursuit of profit and authority in the new world. The Scourers who were caught by this new budding government were executed for their horrible crimes, the ones who had evaded capture by the Twelve Aurors had reportedly intermarried with the No-Maj communities and rejected their magic. A magical child would reveal them to law enforcement and Scourers chose their freedom over familial love. After all, America in the early days was a hard country, and back then many children never survived to the age of five.  

"Once the shock wore off and I went away to school, I decided that I wanted to help people, to make the world a better place. Ona helped me get into the Auror training program and offered to mentor me once I passed my initial exams."

There was a stray question nudging around my mind. 

"We still don't mention our world to No-Majs, what do we tell their parents about Ilvermorny?"

Cassandra eased back in her chair, a lopsided smile on her face. "We tell them it's an elite private school for children with great potential in academics and athletics. A teacher sent an essay they wrote to a contest that caught this school board's attention. If the parents get nosy, we tell them that it was founded by a billionaire who wants to remain anonymous who also funds the scholarship program that their child has been selected for. We give them a brochure, maybe do a fake tour in an old building if extra security is needed."

"A lot of the public schools in the states are underfunded, a lot of Seeds come from poor communities with no opportunities. A paid for education where the kid has a chance for a better future? The parents won't ask too many questions." Quincy clarified quietly, "We're good at dressing it up for the parents, making a rundown building look like a fancy private school to No-Maj eyes, Cass and I did stints as fake students with the other trainees during our apprenticeship. Cass actually led a tour and spewed some pretty incredible bullshit to these people."

Cassandra chuckled and brushed some stray blonde hair from her face. "I look like their image of a private school kid apparently. I gave the No-Majs a story that I grew up in foster care to tug at their heartstrings and now I was on a waitlist for Yale and they were willing to believe anything."

Quincy continued to cast a series of spells on the book as he spoke. "If the kid is from a religious community, then we say it's a private school with a religious focus, single sex, a moral education with their communities traditional values and partnered with another school for the opposite sex. MACUSA does a lot of research on these kids before we approach the families and just taking them is the very last resort. We do pluck the kids who end up in the No-Maj foster system and take them under MACUSA's care system, we're not as over-staffed and we don't need a Seed child disappearing from under our noses or causing chaos with uncontrolled magic in a No-Maj community where Scourers could still be hanging around. It's not perfect, but it could be a lot worse."

"So, we're still dealing with Rappaport even after it's been repealed." I concluded quietly as Quincy and Cassandra nodded in agreement. I never knew the minutiae of details related to getting Seed children into our world. It all sounded complicated and dangerous. Though, it suddenly made a lot more sense that Chastity’s pastor father had been so accepting of her going away to school, he thought it was a religious girl’s school, if Chastity ever mentioned a boy, then it was probably explained as the partner school for boys on a neighboring campus.

A shout of triumph from Quincy interrupted the discussion. “Got it!”

Cassandra and I whipped our heads around in unison to look at Quincy and his slightly smoldering sweater sleeves, the smell of burnt wool permeated the room as Quincy slammed the book on the coffee table. 

"Take that!" He grinned at the two of us as Cassandra put out the small growing fire on his sleeve. "Alex is talented but he can't puzzle out spell work like I can! I got his extra enchantments off the book, we can leave grandpa's." Quincy reached a hand out to me. "Come here, Audie."

I stood and walked over to sit on the arm of the chair next to Quincy as I stared down at what was my copy of the Graves family grimoire, the empty holes of the skull staring through me, passing right through me as if it knew I was unworthy of the secrets within. 

Quincy took my hand and moved it over the book towards the teeth of the skull, there was a sharp pain and I yanked my hand back and out of Quincy’s grasp with a shriek. The blood on the skull’s teeth was fading quickly into the cover, a sacrifice for knowledge written in blood.

The book flew open as I began to heal my hand with a wave of my wand. “Why did it bite me?!” 

“It will only open for you now.” Quincy picked up the book and pressed it into my hands. “It’s all yours.”

When my hand stopped bleeding, I took the book from my cousin and examined it once more. There was no heat or sparks of magic, the book itself felt almost peaceful in my hands, but it was heavy with a sense of familial legacy. 

I opened the book slowly, afraid it would bite me again as the spine creaked and groaned in response.

By the Twelve!

This book was full of spells and anecdotes from relatives I had never even heard of talking about dark wix they encountered as Aurors and bounty hunters. Great Aunt Armista had a whole chapter devoted to combat medical magic and spells she created to use in the field, she was talking about using cadavers to teach her students about the effects of dark magic on the body. 

I opened back to the first page and skimmed the table of contents listing letters by year and notations from various Graves ancestors, followed by the pages that discussed the magic encountered during their years of service as Aurors.

I turned the page to display copies of Gondulphus Graves letters to his family, the other twelve Aurors of the new government and the spell he was creating that he promised to teach to his son Forscythe when he returned home.

I turned the page to find a picture of Gondulpus’ son, Forscythe, a portrait of a thin, serious man with sharp eyes and a steady stare, his brown hair tied back in a short ponytail. He did look like a scythe, if I wanted to be facetious. The next page showed the famous portrait of Forscythe dragging the corpse into the council chambers to lay at the feet of the budding government of MACUSA. 

'... Killing is the quickest, easiest way to deal with these people. I don’t need to know their reasons, everyone has one, I just don’t care to hear the story, I know mine was to avenge my father’s death at this fool’s hands and that’s truly all I need to know… My actions in the council chamber were a necessary act, the people who sit upon the throne of leadership are quick to send us away with no resources and believe we will have the patience to bring these dark wizards back for a trial? No. A ridiculous notion… Dear Hester, I’ll be home as soon as I can, give my love to Bellona, has she started walking yet?

I flipped forward in the book, taking in the various notations and thoughts of a growing, expanding country and hunts for Scourers, Dark Wix and other such forces, records of plants and spells created in boring hours on  the hunt. I stopped on a page that featured a portrait of a young man with a scruffy beard and his beautiful wife. Cadal and Rebekah Graves. Cadal had a hard look to him, but his eyes were soft, a little more expressive, he did not have a hardened, fighter look to him. Rebekah had a resolute expression that only sharpened her strong face and dark almond shaped eyes, her long black hair was down to her waist. I thought she was a bit too pretty for her husband, but the pair looked at each other with such affection that I soon found myself removed from the whole idea.

'... Rebekah tells me things, she says that the trees will speak if one knows how to listen, but they don't speak in the frigid north. She wishes to return to her mother and visit for a time, but the Scourers are looking for mages among the tribes as the No-Majs move them west. It’s too risky and I have asked her to make her peace with it… Her garden is the best in the county, I say this as impartially as I can manage. She never seems to lose a crop and always has a fresh supply of potion ingredients in the cupboard, I know not how she finds these things, it must be on her daily stroll by the river… The No-Majs came today and tried to take my wife away, a witch they called her, a savage who cursed their crops and killed a child. That child was attacked by a hide-behind, Rebekah just found the remains in the woods not far from the river. I soon found the hide-behind not far away from the site, its corpse drifting down river as if something had held it down to drown.'

I looked back at the picture of Cadal and Rebekah and reread the letters. Wait… Could Rebekah be a parseltongue? It would make sense with what I had just read. I would probably never have any true answers about her life, but this I felt I could say with certainty. It seemed to fit together like a puzzle. They were not far from a river, if the thing that killed the hide-behind was a horned serpent, perhaps it heard Rebekah's cries for help. 

Alright, one family mystery solved, now I know who to blame for my weirdness. 

I skipped the rest of the letters and moved on to the real bulk of this book, the records of the dark magic encountered and the invented spellcraft. Cadal had added notes on local botanical potion ingredients that his wife helped him with. The pair had invented a series of spells to remove poison from open wounds in relation to various venomous creatures, both magical and mundane. It was an early rudimentary version of something I knew our wildlife agency used today.

There was a section on tracking spells, interrogation techniques, places on the body that could be quickly and easily broken and a section on the uses of No-Maj… gunpowder? This section had been added to by many Graves relatives in a way that made my stomach turn.

Among Forscythe's unique additions to the Graves family grimoire was weapon conjuration, he wrote in excruciating detail about how to create a balanced weapon out of our will and focus, to create something balanced and useful, the wix needed to know what something that fit perfectly in one's hand felt like. This man focused strictly on killing his opponents quickly and efficiently, a lesson he learned fighting a dark witch who killed his father. He learned from the records left by his defeated adversary how to make the wards that had shielded the cave she was hiding in for months and brought them home to use on the house he was building for his wife and young family. I had no idea the Byrgen House had wards of this kind laid in the foundation, all dark and twisted like the roots of a tree. 

"I've been working on that one," Quincy said suddenly from somewhere over my shoulder causing me to jump as he pointed at a picture in the book. "He did the math for the dimensions of an executioner's axe! It's a great scare tactic. Though, he apparently really liked large scythes and wanted Aurors to dress like the grim reaper to instill fear in their opponents. He was apparently really good with it."

That would make them look like the Death Eaters.

"You're an Auror, not a haunted house goon." Cassandra interjected as she removed her bread from the oven with a flick of her wand, allowing the warm, buttery smell to fill the apartment as she placed the crockery on top of a towel that was resting on the table. "Gumbo's almost ready by the way."

"We're taking the leftovers to the embassy tomorrow right? After what Jenkins said about New Orleans cooking being just French and roadkill I'm ready to teach him a lesson."

"I'm teaching the lesson, your job is to be smug and show him how to actually eat an animal that can't be turned into boots."

"Suck the brains out of the shrimp! Got it!"

Cassandra's cool composure slipped for a second, a look of disgust and horror replacing it as I closed the book to look at later when I returned home.

Quincy's laughter was high and lively like a bell. "This coming for the woman who ate a bucket of raw clams at grandpa's fish fry? You won him right over!"

I looked at Cassandra with wide eyes, she didn't seem the type, more of an observer than a participant. 

"It wasn't just to make your grandpa happy!"

"True," Quincy's voice dropped to whisper in my ear. "She said they were delicious."

Over a very English gumbo, (even I could tell that Cassandra had used less spice than Uncle John nor did it taste as it would across the sea) our discussions turned to topics that were more political and recent. Such as the murdered family of four from Aberdeen where the Dark Mark had appeared over the home and graced the front page of the Daily Prophet for the horror of it all. Another reminder of the chaos that went on beyond the walls of government and the shroud of terror we continued to live with.

Chapter Text

March 3, 1997

Dolores Umbridge is a cow. 

I had a whole host of other things I needed to do today that did not involve taking notes for her meeting with the department heads. She knew I was busy. She still made the request that I cannot refuse and now I have to sit through watching her attempt to manage people on the Minister's behalf.

I think I need a raise.

I deserve one for sitting through this sanctimonious parade of incompetence.  

These Ministry meetings were something I found to be a tedious and pointless waste of time, more of a discussion on department management and supply concerns. Arthur Weasley managed to escape early when a sudden report of a supposed protection amulet that instead caused burns and hair loss to the wearer putting someone in Saint Mungo's demanded his immediate attention.

I would have traded places with anyone involved in that scenario to escape this meeting.

I had some suspicions he found these meetings as pointless as I did and preplanned this exit, perhaps telling his staff to give him the first case that crossed his desk after the meeting started.

A continuous droning chorus of budget and plans that had been in discussion for over three months now to improve public safety. Ongoing talk of printing a new home defense pamphlet and what spells should be included while I bit my tongue so as to not tell them actual battle magic might be appreciated by the people they claimed to serve.

These people are idiots.

They are so tied down in their own bureaucratic nonsense that they cannot get anything done or do anything that is useful. Lucinda had always been sympathetic to my work complaints in this vein, that the Ministry had been run in this way since before she worked there and would continue to do so long after I left. I knew government work was generally wheel turning and navel gazing, but war and threats to society tended to light fires that would get things done. None of that seemed to be happening.

Perhaps I didn't have the patience to be a cog in this bureaucracy? I had been having the thought on and off for weeks about leaving to pursue something else as a career, but I didn't know what. I would always have an opportunity to be a political pundit, but I wouldn't be taken seriously until I had some real accomplishments under my belt such as a published article or three, or even years of service working for a real branch of government under people who actually did things to help people. 

What if I left politics entirely? I had struggled on and off with the idea of writing a book, but I felt so young in all the ways that made a book compelling in the exploration of themes and truths of humanity. I still had so much to learn about the world and how I fit into it. I was not at the point where I felt I could explore the themes that engaged me in my favorite novels and manage to tell a compelling tale in the same breath. Someday perhaps, when the war was over I would feel less of a girl and more of a confident young woman who was finally fed up enough to leave and try something reckless once more.

"Perhaps a brochure of various counter curses?"

"Another on safety charms perhaps? Simple ones like the caterwauling charm. Not for city use of course, but those folks in the country would find it useful."

Oh, these people…!

"What sort of counter curses?"

"Some that sound friendly, we don't want the public to be more frightened than they already are."

I thought about my family grimoire that I was studying in the evenings. It was full of old magic and homemade spells that dabbled in things that I would classify as dark or gray in nature. Great-aunt Armista had created a spell that would peel the skin off of her cadavers for her lessons, she noted that the stronger version would separate the skin, bones and organs if the body needed to be handled quickly. She had been experimenting on spiders and snakes mainly. Her private notes stated that it was only to be used on the dead, walking or otherwise.

I was not advocating to teach spells like those found in my family's grimoire to be taught. My irritation came from this idea these Ministry officials had about appropriate battle magic, it felt so sanitized and they never would have made it through a strategy meeting with my father or hearing his opinions on self-defense which functioned under the idea of relentless aggression in all forms. 

Hell, let Annette talk about her latest death fixation. 

I suffered in silence through the rest of this hour-long meeting, ignoring Umbridge’s hem hems and sickeningly sweet utterances of opinion about her finding the strict teaching of theory to be more than adequate for her students.

I had an implicit, unexplained urge to hear her say that in front of my grandfather just to see what would happen. Carnage. It would be the kind of carnage that would make Annette giddy.

 Oo0Oo0

"Did you read about the murder in Bibury in the Saturday paper?"

Percy looked at me with a raised eyebrow from where he stood cutting vegetables in his kitchen, seemingly finishing the final stages of a dinner. "I did, I worked with Rokesby in International Magical Cooperation."

"How could he have gotten the Death Eaters' attention?"

I had managed to talk Percy into breaking his routine for our dates, which was easier than I expected. He had been unusually quiet all day since he read a memo from the Minister this morning. The contents had left Percy has been visibly shaken afterwards. The memo had paled his complexion and made his freckles pop against his skin. I had no chance to inquire about the matter privately before Umbridge functionally kidnapped me from the office. 

Mondays should be banned from civilized society.

Percy shrugged, "No idea. He was a nice man. Quiet. Thankfully his wife was working late at Saint Mungo's." 

I nodded in agreement. I hoped that gave Rokesby a bit of solace at the end.

"Though there might be one thing."

I leaned against the doorframe and crossed my arms in front of me as I looked at Percy inquisitively. "What would that be?"

"Rokesby was muggle-born and the current deputy head of his department."

I had only met Rokesby once in passing when I was running an errand, he held the door open for me as I was leaving the Minister's Office. The words of a deputy department head held weight, perhaps he was supporting something in the office that proved particularly adversarial to Voldemort's cause? 

"His poor wife. I can't imagine coming home to that."

I had seen the dark mark in the paper, only in the paper thankfully and never in person. It looked horrific, a calling card for malicious political actors who took pleasure in terror and strife. I had begun to understand the terror they inflicted during Voldemort's rise to power. People who could unite around a symbol could truly become monstrous because they felt as if they were a part of something big, scary and important that could give them the respect they did not feel they had in their daily lives.

“How’s Lucinda doing?”

“She’s fine, I saw her yesterday for lunch. She says Tavish is working on a new vegetable garden and wants to talk to her about adding to the orchard next year.”

We had another Occlumency lesson afterwards. Lucinda said I was improving quickly and the maze I was building in my mind was becoming more intricate and vivid with each of her attempts to violate its sanctity. A maze of trees and rivers, trappings of a camping trip I remembered taking as a young girl. Each section of the maze was covered in traps and twisting detours where I stored false memories. I had managed to lead Lucinda into a memory of myself climbing a tree as a child. Lucinda told me that she could tell the memory was fake because the bark on the tree was too smooth.

I wondered what Percy’s childhood had been like. I knew he had all of those siblings and most likely a house out in the country to house all of those children. Did he climb trees if only for a bit of peace and quiet away from what I gathered was a herd of chaotic siblings? My imagining of the Weasley family home was perhaps a bit too idyllic, built off passing comments from Percy and Lucinda, but the image I had was so pleasant I was reluctant to let it go and ask about the reality.

We had never really talked about our childhoods and our families. Which I was grateful for! But if I wanted to know more about Percy, give and take was part of every discussion. We had avoided uncomfortable truths and lies for months but I knew this couldn't go on forever if this was going to work. I did not need to be working with him when the truth came out either. My talk with Elihu a couple of weeks ago had laid that bare. Either Percy could hear it from me after I leave the office, or someone else would tell him before I did. My worst case scenario, my true nightmare, was Jack showing up and taking an opportunity to give an unprepared Percy the shock of his life.

Isolt's panties.

I couldn't handle that. Jack has a strong personality. So does Percy. I don't want to be in the middle of any encounter of theirs if it's not related to work. Work discussions, I imagined, would soften some of Jack's more… caustic opinions. He was never one to burn a bridge.
 
If I ever was with the pair as they discussed topics not related to work and government, I would have to throw myself out a window. 

It seemed a viable option.

But the two men would never meet if I had any control of the situation.

If they ever did, I no longer intended to be working for the Ministry.

I glanced over at Percy, watching his hands as he continued to cut vegetables with a few flicks of his wand, the knife moving quickly through the carrots and spring onions while a pan scrubbed itself in the sink and I felt a rush of admiration surge through me. Partially because I was not a good cook and fumbled awkwardly through the kitchen (eggs were my greatest nemesis) and that Percy was running multiple kitchen charms, which really impressed me.

I liked this. This normality. All I had to do was keep pretending that my father and step-mother were a low level bureaucrat from wand regulations and a teacher. It was so easy to fall into that reality.

But I knew this would not last forever. 

Lies always come out of the shadows given enough time. But was it so wrong to enjoy a segment of someone else’s life for a time? No. Though the burden of honesty weighed heavily upon me. Percy would never believe me duplicitous, it was not something he looked for in my countenance and actions within our relationship. My lies had rarely been blatant, though that did not promise me safety from the anger of someone hurt by my deceptions and stretched truths.

I was going to talk to Elihu about leaving the Ministry, if one of his secretaries wanted to return home to the US I would be happy to fill a position at the end of the summer. 

Maybe then I could tell Percy about the reality of my family situation. If he wished to end it, it would be easier for both of us if one of us was already out of the office. 
 
It would hurt less.

Okay, I was going to focus on the present and build myself up for the inevitable collapse.

Don’t get attached, Audrey.

“You've been oddly quiet all day. It's not just Rokesby is it?"

Percy glanced over at me with a tight expression, a few strands of hair fell over his forehead while the rest caught the light of the setting sun through the window. 

"I found out this morning that two days ago, Ron was poisoned and almost died. On his birthday."

My heart jumped into my throat, "He's okay, right?"

Percy nodded, "By sheer dumb luck apparently."

I played with my bracelet as I debated how to best phrase the words that wanted to escape.

"You clearly love your brother." Something pressed me to tease a bit, a smile pulled at the corner of my mouth. "Is Ron your favorite?"

Percy huffed quietly before glancing over at me, catching on that I was playing with him a bit as his expression softened slightly. “I have no favorite.”

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

"Hm?"

"Your brother."

Percy ignored me for a moment, the food going into the oven with a wave of his wand. The oven door closed with a muffled thump.

"I'm not close to my siblings." I can't expect openness without opening up myself in turn. "My brother and sister are much older and younger than I am. Nine and seven years is a large gap in both directions." I paused. "It must be nice having siblings closer to you in age."

Percy had his back to me and I was not sure what he was thinking or how my probing would be perceived, we had never had an open discussion about our families. It was so easy to avoid the topic.

"Your sister seems to like you."

"Annie likes most people."

"She wrote you letters."

Oh.

"I've never been close to my siblings." Percy paused and moved away from the oven to lean against the counter across the room from me. "My older brothers were closer, the twins were a set from the beginning and I was a bit too old to be interesting to Ron and Ginny.”

I nodded slowly in an effort to keep him talking.

"I was fine. I wasn't lonely."

It sounded lonely, but who was I to judge? Maybe we were both lonely middle children at heart, lost in the shuffle of quickly growing families or the drama surrounding a broken family dynamic.

"I sent a letter to Ron last year. I wanted to give him advice and congratulate him on becoming a prefect and I never heard back. I opened the door and nobody made an effort. The only person who wants me back is my mum, but she’s still so committed to the righteousness of Dumbledore and Potter and the others would never want me back. Can’t they see how dangerous Hogwarts is under Dumbledore’s leadership?”

“You’ve told me a bit about this? The giant snake?”

“Yes! The giant snake! The giant chess set! The escaped mass murderer who tried to stab Ron in his bed in the dormitory!”

“What?”

“I don't care that Ron said he was innocent, he was clearly brainwashed! Blamed the whole thing on Scabbers being an animagus of a dead man!”

What the hell? What's a Scabbers?

"Being used as an incentive for Potter in the Triwizard Tournament! Escaping Hogwarts to break into the Department of Mysteries and fight Death Eaters!" He paused, collecting himself for a moment before continuing. "From the time Potter started school, he's been a menace and a magnet for danger that could have-" He stopped suddenly, unable to voice what I was completing in my mind.

Gotten my brother killed, hung in the air even without the words being said aloud. The clarity brought by his wide, frightened eyes at the words that he had almost said aloud. 

What in the world was wrong with this school?

"You're worried."

"Of course I am," Percy sighed. “Every year since Potter arrived it's been one nightmare incident after another. Nothing changes. No safety standards improve or even appear to be implemented." 

Percy summoned a wine glass from the cabinet, sending it to my usual spot at the small table, an invitation to sit down and stop standing in the doorway because I was a guest who he wanted to stay for a while. I took the seat and poured the wine I had brought from my apartment into the glasses as Percy sat down across from me. Pots, pans and plates continued to scrub themselves in the sink in a rhythmic, controlled manner.

"Schools are supposed to be safe, places of learning where making mistakes or being nosy about something won't get you killed." He sighed and looked at me before stiffening in his chair. "I don't imagine that's very interesting to you."

"What makes you say that? School administration and management is a branch of politics, it’s not my preferred interest but local politics show more about public opinion than just the national elections.”

“Well…”

I think I knew what he was trying to say.

"Percy, you come off a bit strong, but I don't mind. It just strengthens my good opinion of you."

Percy looked at me with a slightly baffled expression, the tips of his ears turning pink.

"You're a bit protective, but I don't see that as a bad thing, sure, you may have come off more parental than brotherly, but at least you’re invested in them. Kids don’t really appreciate that until they’re older anyway.”

“You have a lot of experience with that?” Percy’s expression shifted to something coy and playful, his eyes moving slowly over me. “A protective brother?”

It sounded like he wanted to be sure Alex wouldn’t come around to act the part.

“No, my brother’s like a cat, he comes and goes as he pleases and does whatever suits him. My cousin Quincy is too focused on being an Auror to bother me about my life. I promise you're very safe."

“I don’t know, your brother was pretty quick to go for my throat.”

Ah, yeah. That’s a family trait. My father might be your bigger concern.

“I don’t see him much.” How much should I say? “We’re not close. I wish we were but the age difference and other things were big obstacles. My brother left to chase his career into Europe while I was thirteen and I hadn't seen him until this year.” 

“Oh,” Percy moved his gaze to the window, Hermes was sitting on the roof of the building next door fluffing himself up contentedly. "No letters or visits?"

"Um…" I could say this much. "He had a massive fight with our father. My dad's a bit of an asshole and, to be honest, the fight was a long time coming. My brother left home over my Christmas break and I've not seen or heard from him until this year."

I was afraid that this would change the comfortable atmosphere between us to something awkward. It did not.

"He never wrote to you?" Percy turned his attention firmly on me, his glasses sliding down his nose before he pushed them back into place. "He doesn't sound like a good brother."

No, Alex never sounded that way. I'm not sure he ever was.

"I'm sure he had his reasons."

He did, I understood some of it, but it didn't stop me from feeling like a casualty in his crusade against our father.

I was not going to mention the topic of the fight, it was not my business to air Valencia's trauma and I did not care to have a discussion about the ethics of joke love potions tonight, even if I knew Percy would agree with me on the matter. I like Valencia a lot and consider her a friend, which meant there was a good chance she could meet Percy at some point and I had no care to color her in his eyes solely with the survivor label over all of her other good qualities.

Besides, discussing the matter once with Lucinda was difficult enough.

"We've talked a bit, I think we're on the way to building something of a relationship."

Was that too much?

"That's good."

"He's not interested in my life, so I think you're safe for now."

Percy took a sip of wine and relaxed slightly, "I promise that I am not frightened of your brother."

“Excellent!”

The silence that settled over us for a few moments was companionable and comfortable. I listened to the sound of dinner sizzling in the oven and watched the bubbles pop in my wine glass.

"When I become Minister," Percy started, crossing his arms in thought, a confident smile on his face. "I think a stricter oversight of Hogwarts is long past due."

"No more giant snakes then?"

"Why are you so fixated on the snake?"

"I don't know," I shrugged, a smile pulling at the corner of my mouth at his baffled expression. "I just wonder how no one ever noticed a giant snake moving through your school at any point in history. What was it living on? Rats? Pets? Missing students?"

Percy was not going to take that bait, the huffy noise he made told me as much. 

"Anyway," he started again, "School oversight. We need to be brought back up to standard in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Clearly," I summoned the Ministry's latest self defense brochure with a flick of my wand from where Percy had left it on the counter. "These are all very basic spells. Like the kind you teach to children for dueling lessons. I'm not using a tickling charm on a Death Eater, that would be stupid."

Tickling charms had not been listed in the pamphlet, but the spirit of the comment was accurate.

"Well, we can't keep a professor because of the curse."

"Which is why you all can't place in the International Dueling Tournament. How long has it been? Fifty years?"

"That was Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher."

"He was your last victor then." I grinned smugly, Vincent Price from Wyoming had taken the gold in the last tournament seven years ago. I remembered going with my father and grandpa with Alex and Quincy. Grandpa had been teaching us how to duel and had been criticizing the duelists techniques and spell work throughout the event and he was particularly vicious about the techniques and spells used by the British competitor who was knocked out of the first round before continuing on about the quality of the Aurors the country produced, something Grandpa Atticus was not impressed with over the last several decades. "So how do you plan to deal with a cursed job position?"

"Easy, break the curse."

"Simple enough, surely too easy to have been tried before."

"It was actually tried back in the seventies." Percy paused, bringing his hand to his chin thoughtfully. "I don't know much about curse-breaking, but the consensus is there needs to be a focus point for the curse itself. It's rare that things like that just attach to an abstract idea. That's more of a figure of speech than anything else."

"Alright, in short, you would actively pursue educational oversight to break a decades old curse to bring Defense Against the Dark Arts back to international standards. I have to ask, what happened to the curse-breaker who tried to solve the problem originally?"

"Apparently he died under mysterious circumstances within the hour."

I blinked slowly at Percy as he continued.

"I found the record at the Ministry in a Hogwarts expense folder."

"Alright then."

“In all honesty, Audrey, if someone gets murdered at that school I will not be surprised!”

Chapter Text

April 5, 1997

2:02 a.m.

BANG!

I shot out of bed with a shout at the sudden noise at my front door. A cold fear fell over me as if I had been dunked in ice water. My wand was in my shaking hand as I fixed a strap on my nightgown. I had strong wards and security charms on the door, they would hold until I got there.

BANG!

I ran into the hallway, sliding across the floor into the living room and pointed my trembling wand at the door. 

BANG! BANG!

Steady Audrey…

Ignis Ardeat!

There was a howl of anguished pain and cursing from the other side of the door as my burning ward activated. 

I took a deep breath and tried to force my voice to stay steady. "W-who's there?"

"Enforcer! Open up!"

"Prove it!"

There were more muffled bangs from further away. They sounded like they were coming from down the hall.

“There’s been an attack!” He shoved a badge under my door. I examined it nervously, I checked it for falsifying magics with a quick spell. The crest of Ministry law enforcement continued to glow and shimmer in the dark. “You need to evacuate!"

I could hear a rush of footsteps and shouts in the hallway muffled by the wall and the door. It was a herd of footsteps and a feeling of fear. The pitched shout of a child as they ran past my door caught my attention. The only people on this floor with children were the Carters down the hall.

I opened the door with a flick of my wand, returning the badge to the Enforcer who caught it in his hands. He was old and grizzled with a hard expression that matched his steely gray eyes as I put on my shoes and grabbed my cloak to cover myself. I left my apartment joining the small crowd of people from my floor to the staircase with the Enforcer following behind me.

The lobby was dark and cold with an implacable air of malignancy and fear that stopped me for a moment. Was that a hand behind the desk? The Enforcer put his hands on my shoulders and guided me roughly out the door to the cold streets where the rest of my neighbors were standing in an eerie silence, all of them staring into the sky transfixed by something above our building. I looked up as well, pulling my cloak tighter around my shoulders as I finally popped the clasp into place and I felt a cold dread go through me. 

The Dark Mark hovered over my building, almost lost to the bright lights of London. 

The whispers were all around me, the voices soon rising in a panicked symphony of dread and terror.

"Where's Tully?"

"That you Andy?"

"Merlin's beard!"

"I never thought they would come here!"

Eloise, my landlady, had pulled out a clipboard but I couldn't look at her. The Dark Mark had consumed my attention. The snake emerged from the skull, gleaming and predatory as it moved back and forth seemingly staring us down as the Enforcers began the spell to banish the mark from the sky. 

It was so much worse than the newspapers made it seem.

I was beginning to understand the fear and prejudice towards parselmouths in this country. The symbolism Voldemort's people used was haunting.

Eloise's voice rang over the crowd to begin roll call.

"Carter?"

"Present!" Mr. Carter's voice came from behind me. I turned to see him, his wife and two daughters clutching his coat while the baby was half asleep in his arms. 

"Tubbins?"

"Aye!"

"Feinburg?"

"Here!"

"Graves?"

"Present!" The sound of my name snapped my attention away from the monstrosity dissipating from the air.

"Roades?"

The silence was tense and flowed through the crowd, a collective held breath.

"Holly Roades?"

It was like being perched at the edge of a knife.

"Which flat?" A nearby Enforcer asked, as he took a step closer to Eloise whose hands were shaking.

"7-B," Eloise breathed. The Enforcer nodded at an Auror and repeated the flat number and she rushed inside. "Have you found Walker yet?"

Walker was our building security, I had just realized how strange it was to have not seen him. I thought he was helping the elderly couple on the ground floor.

The Enforcer nodded slowly. "Behind the desk. He never stood a chance."

Eloise froze and a cold palpable chill fell over the crowd. Was… Was that Walker's hand I saw? I did my best not to puke. 

"The roll call, Ms. McGrew." The Enforcer reminded her as gently as he was able, his gruff tones softer. 

Eloise continued, rattling off the names of my neighbors for the next several minutes, calls of Present! and Here! A somber silence shrouded itself over the crowd. The air of dread drifted to hope before disappearing as the Auror emerged without Holly Roades with a downcast shake of her head. 

There was a pained wail from the depths of the crowd behind me that sent shivers up my spine. I wanted to vomit, but my body would not give me enough leeway to dry heave on Mr. Miller's slippers. 

I didn't want to stay here. I wasn't sure I could force myself to go back upstairs to my dark apartment where the shadows could contain multitudes of the evil and callousness of the world that had just come far too close to me in the last several minutes. 

I wanted to leave. Now! Where could I go? 

The Carters and a few of the others were discussing a hotel with a shaking Eloise's input, but a large part of me did not want to be alone. A long ignored fear of Voldemort's followers had stirred in my heart. If I went to Lucinda, she would never let me leave Thornell again. I didn't want to intrude on Misty and Zara's love nest, that would be awkward. 

If I was honest with myself, I wanted to be with Percy. I was frightened. I knew I could not make any real decisions tonight. Two people I knew in passing had been murdered tonight. Walker always had a friendly word for me, he didn’t deserve to die in the line of duty like that. Poor Holly Rhodes. Murdered in her own apartment. For what? The wrong place at the wrong time? Speaking out? I had not seen her name in the paper for anything.

The roll call was soon finished, all living residents were checked and interviewed by the Aurors and Enforcers on the scene to give statements and take contact information. I stayed close to the Carter family, chatting with the family, talking to their daughters and making faces at the baby as she finally woke up while her parents spoke with the Enforcers. Like me, the family had heard nothing and had nothing but good things to say about Holly Rhodes and William Walker. The family bid me a rushed farewell after they finished, stating they were going to the Leaky Cauldron for a couple of days.

I quickly gave my own statement, answering the Enforcer’s questions as I pulled my cloak tighter around me as my white nightgown billowed about my ankles and my long dark hair hung heavy down my back. I was sure I looked a fright. I was going straight to the apparition point and could only hope none of the No-Majs saw me and the repelling charms from the Ministry would keep the street cleared of them for several hours yet. 

The Enforcer sent me on my way with a hurried thank you and an apology for the scare when he tried to beat down my apartment door.

I took a moment to check my wand and adjust my cloak before following a young man from the fourth floor to the apparition point down the street. I was lucky to grab my cloak, this poor man was wandering the chilly streets in a pair of sweatpants. At least he wasn’t in his underwear like the old man from the second floor. I was also grateful I had not seen the rumored nudist from the top floor.

I have seen far too much of my neighbors tonight.

Getting to the apparition point was the easiest part of my night. The hard part was going to be explaining to Percy how I ended up on his doorstep in a cloak and nightgown (why was I wearing the nice one with the lacy straps? I had that nice woolen one that was like a blanket.)

I watched the man in his sweatpants disappear down the alley that was our apparition point. I waited politely for the popping sound that would signal his departure before stepping into the alley.     

I focused on the alleyway by Percy's building. The distinctive bit of purple rat graffiti that marked the location was vivid in my mind's eye. I wiggled my toes and cataloged every other part of my body, my joints, my arms, my legs and ears. I took notice of the little hairs that were standing on end in the cold. 

The feeling of being sucked into a pipe grabbed me suddenly, squeezing me in tight hands. The breathlessness and the sudden welcome of fresh air was revitalizing, and made me feel the abject momentary terror of being in a new location in the middle of the night.

I checked that all of my extremities had made the trip with me before leaving the alley, awkwardly making eye contact with a passing No-Maj couple who looked at me with concerned expressions before looking away, not wanting to get involved with whatever mess I was involved with.

Really the smartest thing they could do. I didn't have the wits to craft a good excuse right now.

I didn't walk to Percy's building, I ran. My shoes came down heavily on the sidewalk. I slowed down to knock on the door for the doorman. I gave him the visitor password, the number of Percy's apartment and submitted to his spell checks to make sure I was not in disguise.

He let me pass with a strange, confused expression and I hoped he wouldn't ask Percy any questions the next time he saw him. 

The lift to Percy's floor creaked and groaned until I stepped out of it, relieved my night had not gotten worse by the thing breaking.

I could see the door ahead of me and took a deep breath before knocking loudly. I stepped back as one of Percy's door charms sparked on the doorknob.

I knocked again.

There was some muffled noise from inside the flat.

"Who is it?"

"It's Audrey!" I heard the door handle jiggle for a moment as if he meant to throw the door open before collecting himself. "What was the name of the book you loaned to me last week?"

"The Essential Primer of Magic and Mythology!" His words were hurried, flying past his lips with none of his usual measured tones.

"What was the title of the novel you loaned me?"

"The Mysterious Death of Hugo Sinclair!”

"Are you okay?!" Percy flung the door open as he spoke and I threw myself into his arms with such force he took two steps back. I heard the door close behind me, either through a spell or Percy kicking it closed.

I was greeted by the scent of him and the warmth of his arms around me, one hand was buried in my hair while the other rested around my upper back. His chin rested on the top of my head as a stream of questions escaped him while I trembled in his arms, the adrenaline that had kept me on my feet and gotten me to Percy was finally giving way to the horror of something I had dismissed as a silly symbol from idiotic people to truly understanding the terror associated with it. I was a fool to brush that aside.

“Shhh, you’re okay.” Percy rocked me back and forth as he made soothing noises into my hairline. I did not know when my tears began to fall but it must have been a sudden thing. “You’re safe.”

I inhaled his comforting scent and truly did my best to collect myself and stop these horrible wheezing noises that clawed their way out from my throat despite my best efforts.

"What happened?"

I moved back slightly to look at Percy. I was going to have some composure. I was going to be calm and…

It fully occurred to me that it was the middle of the night and I had clearly woken him up. Percy's glasses were gone, hair was a mess, flying in several different directions and made him look delightfully rumpled. And… he was not wearing a shirt. It finally sunk in that I had been crying into his chest and the embarrassment quickly flooded over me as I took him in. The lean willowy lines of his form, freckles on his shoulders and the sparse reddish blond hair on his chest.

Move your eyes, Aud, have some respect!

“Death Eaters in my building! They killed the watchman! A-and a woman who lived a floor above me! The Dark Mark-! I took a deep breath as Percy sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I can’t go back to my apartment tonight!”

“Then you're staying here." He put an arm over my shoulders and led me to the couch where my shaking legs finally gave out. "Do you want something to drink? Tea?" 

I raised an eyebrow.

"Right. Alcohol?"

"Please."

He squeezed my hand before going to the kitchen cupboard where he hid his wine glasses and a couple of bottles of wine for… occasions that I hoped were more normal than this one. I took a deep breath and tried to forget the fear of the evening and think about more pleasant things. Though my brain kept drifting to the warmth of him under my hands.

That was the quickest, easiest distraction I could find.

Percy came back and pressed a glass of wine in my hands while he told me he would be right back before walking to his bedroom down the hall. I took off my cloak and hung it over the arm of the couch as I sipped my wine and wondered what he was doing. I peered down the hallway to see a bundle of sheets flying into an open closet before a folded bundle flew out of the closet and into the bedroom before the closet door closed.

I tipped my head back to finish my wine before getting to my feet to look over Percy's bookshelf. I was familiar with his collection, but I didn't want to be where he left me when he came back to the living room. I was fine. I just needed a minute. 

"Audrey."

My spine straightened and I turned quickly to find him standing at the entrance to the hallway. He appeared much calmer then I felt, leaning against the wall and looking at me with a quiet, unreadable expression. I felt his eyes drifting slowly over me, lingering on my exposed shoulders. 

"I've made up the bed for you."

"Oh, thank you."

I had never seen Percy's bedroom. I imagined it was as spartan and practical as his apartment. 

It was a small room, the freshly made bed was pressed against the wall in the center of the room with an old school trunk at the foot of the bed that had a heavy blanket folded carefully on top of it. The pillows were resting against the headboard and the dark blue comforter rested in such a way that I could see edges of the sheets were tucked under the mattress. I noted the pair of bedside tables, both had covered candle lamps with wicks and one table had three books next to the lamp. I could see the corner of another book peeking out from under the bed as if it had been put under there in a hurry. 

In short, it was a comfortable space even if I thought it needed more personal touches.

“There’s another blanket in the trunk if you need it.”

I nodded and peered up at Percy, meeting his eyes as he glanced down at me.

"I'll sleep on the couch."

What?

My question must have shown in my face.

"I changed the sheets, so you can have the bed and I'll sleep on the couch. I insist." He gave me a smile. “I put a towel on the bathroom sink for you too.”

He was far too tall for that couch to be comfortable.

"Goodnight, Audrey." He reached out to take my face in his hands and leaned down to kiss me, his mouth moving slowly over mine as my knees threatened to give out from under me as my stomach flipped and fluttered. His mouth lingering for a few extra moments, millimeters from my own as if he wanted to kiss me again or not leave at all before finally pulling away.

Oh my… That was very… chivalrous. Yes… That was the word.

"Um…"

He stopped in the doorway to look back at me.

"You are too tall to sleep on that couch, and I don't think I should take your bed."

"I'm not letting you sleep on my uncomfortable couch."

"We could share the bed!"

Percy froze, blinking slowly as he took me in with my imploring expression and stubborn set in my chin. 

I walked over to the side of the bed, my legs felt heavy and my stomach had leapt into my throat. I reached under the pillows Percy had carefully rested against the headboard to fold back the comforter and sheets in a neat straight line before I looked back at Percy with this wordless invitation.

“I’m fine with it if you are.” 

For one of the few times in my year and a half of knowing Percy Weasley, he seemed truly at a loss for words. I could see his ears were as red as his hair and the rest of his face was turning a similar hue. 

My own face was heated from the brazenness of my sensible suggestion.

"Are you sure? I have no problem-"

I folded the comforter and sheet back one more time to make my point. It was like the bed had been cut in half for how far I had folded the covers back.

"Honestly, I don't want to be alone."

That was all this was. I was scared. The war finally came to my doorstep and I wanted comfort and safety in Percy's arms and I was not going to get that if he was going off to be chivalrous on the couch. 

Percy nodded quickly, his face and ears burning in the low light of the room from the lamp on his bedside table. 

There was a reverent kind of silence between us. Stolen glances as I reached up to adjust the pillows and Percy neatly folded the extra blanket to rest it across the foot of the bed just beyond the folded covers. A twitching kind of distraction from my need for comfort.

"In case you get cold."

I doubted that was going to be the case but I wasn't going to say anything about it as I finally laid down and pulled the covers over myself. The lamp went out and the room was encased in darkness. I could feel the slope in the bed from Percy getting climbing in next to me before he heaved a tied sigh.

I turned my head to look at the outline of his face in the dark from the window. 

"Thank you for this. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"It's fine." His hand found mine in the dark, his long fingers moving over my wrist and down to twine his fingers with mine. "I would rather have you here than somewhere else."

"Yeah. I didn't want to go wandering London in a nightgown. What would the muggles say?"

Percy chuckled and brought the hand he was holding to his lips to kiss the inside of my wrist.

Well. I'm sure my heart just stopped. I might be dead now.

Percy turned slightly towards me, releasing my hand and propping himself on his elbow to look down at me.

I know what I don’t want right now, sex required openness, which I could not give at this point. If we got to that point, I didn't want there to be lies and misdirection between us. Also, it was too close to three in the morning to try anything of the sort. I may or may not have put a bit of thought into how I wanted that part of our relationship to start.

I am not sure if I'm in love yet. Maybe I'm just guarded, and I don't know what romantic love is like. Is it grounded? A sea of passion until time has striped away the gold varnish? Books say it's a selfless thing, that love makes people better and stronger, selfless and honest, but I feel more selfish and dishonest for wanting to bottle up these moments that feel like they're from someone else's life and keep them in a drawer to look through at my leisure.

It's a strange thing.

Maybe I'm too young, and perhaps too jaded, to really understand it?

Instead, I reached up to caress his face and propped myself up to kiss him goodnight. 

Chapter Text

April 5, 1997

It wasn't the sunlight coming in through the window that woke me, because there is no sunlight at five in the morning. It was not Percy's quiet snoring either. What woke me was an alarm clock. An obnoxious one that sounded like a flock of magical birds singing a harmonious tune that began quietly only to grow louder as moments passed.

There was a quiet groan from somewhere behind my neck with a warm breath of air and a muffled noise from Percy as he silenced the clock before he went back to sleep. 

My nightgown was bunched up around my waist and I could not fix it with how tightly Percy had curled around me. He was pressed tightly against my back, one arm under my pillow and the other around me just beneath my breasts. My fingers were entwined with his, tracing the joints of his fingers and the bumps of his knuckles. One of his legs was between mine, pressing against me in a way I found really comforting and intriguing. I was warm and kind of sweaty, but I didn't mind enough to move. 

This was nice. Really nice. I like this. 

There was a voice from the living room, faint and echoing with a crackle as if it were coming from the fireplace.

"PERCY! YOU UP?"

There was a voice from the living room.

Percy groaned and pulled me closer to him, well, he tried too, I didn't think we could get any closer together.

"That's Oliver…" 

Right, Percy told me that he and Oliver jogged together on Saturday mornings. Oliver's family apparently had a nice woodland area attached to their farm property and they were both in agreement it was safer to run together then by themselves, or they would go to Oliver's Quidditch team's pitch. I think that's a male bonding thing.

"Not sure I wanna go…"

"PERCE!"

Percy released his hold on me, detangling himself from me and getting out of bed with a groan. I felt strangely bereft and lonely with his leaving even if I could hear them talking in the living room. I was not sure I wanted him to go either.

Even if I couldn't hear definitively what was being said, from the cadence of the hushed mumbling, it sounded like Percy was going. He wasn't coherent enough to come up with an excuse.

I rolled over to the middle of the bed and pulled the blankets up to my chin.

Space. So much space. I'm going to sprawl myself out like a starfish and wake up at a normal time after the sun rises.

Perfect! 

I heard Percy shuffle back into the room with a yawn.

"I'll stop by the bakery down the street for breakfast on the way back. I assume you want coffee?"

"Please."

There was the sound of a squeaky wardrobe door and the rough sliding noise of an opening drawer. I kept my eyes closed, the situation is already strange and I'm not ready to put seeing my first fully naked man on the list of things that happened in the last four hours, a list that included my first corpse, my memory of Walker's unmoving hand peeking out from behind the desk made me shiver. No, Percy had manners, he wouldn't change while I was in the room.

Percy's voice was low, "I'm putting some clothes out for you on my trunk. I'll be back in an hour or so."

He moved to the side of the bed and kissed me on the cheek before leaving the room with a fresh change of clothes draped over his arm.

Oh, I guess he was getting dressed in the bathroom. That was fine. Now I had the bed. All of the bed! 

The front door closed and I closed my eyes to go back to sleep.

It took several minutes for me to give up on sleep. I was definitely awake and that was unlikely to change. Ugh…

I need something to read. As much as I like Percy's mystery novels and law books that were on his bedside table, I don't think I'm really in the mood to sink into those. It was too early to engage in plots and loopholes. I would have to find him a short story anthology, maybe some Westra Quinn or the Jack N. Money comedies? 

Wait, I saw something under the bed when I came in here. 

I sat up and reached under the bed to see if I could find the book he had shoved under the bed in a very un-Percy manner. It would either be something interesting or embarrassing. I could feel the corner of a book against my fingertips.

Ah-ha!

With a final stretch I grasped the book and pulled it out with a satisfied smile before flipping it over to reveal the title.

Twelve Fail Safe Ways to Charm Witches

Oh! I have to admit my curiosity is piqued. I'll never tell him I saw this. Then I would have to admit to similar texts in my own bedroom.

I opened the book to examine the table of contents to find a quick note in scribbled handwriting. 

Percy,

I'm not saying it's not a grey area to date in the office, but I am telling you that she doesn't answer to you. If you decide to pursue this, I think this will be a great help.

Helped me with Pearl. 

Keep in touch, tell me how it goes!

Eddie

A flicker of memory stirred inside me. Eddie's wedding. He was talking to Pearl about a book he had mailed to Percy, I couldn't remember the title, but this was clearly it.

Oh boy.

I opened the table of contents, more out of curiosity of how young men were taught these things than any desire to invade Percy's personal business.

I scrolled through the table of contents and giggled over how most of it was about social things. Compliments. Manners. Meeting the parents. All the things that would make or break an introduction, early stage romantic flirtation and kill a dating term of a year. Pretty adorable.

I turned to the second page of the table of contents, wondering about the other six sections of this book and what kind of social graces they covered. Surely Percy did not require much help in this regard, he had such pleasing manners that I was sure he could spend time in Lucinda’s company and she would have no complaints at all aside from his lack of familial ties to generational wealth. 

These sections were about sex. 

I closed the book, deciding that maybe I did not need to be that nosy after all, even if it did amuse me.

Oo0Oo0

By the time Percy returned with a cup of coffee, newspaper and a small bag of baked goods, I had been up and dressed for about half an hour. Something he seemed surprised by. He probably expected me to still be in bed, but once the hope of sunlight peered through the window, I did not have it in me to stay in bed. Plus, it made me feel lazy to do so in someone else’s home. He gave me the coffee and the newspaper before slipping away to take a shower while I emptied the bag on a plate from the kitchen and started the kettle. 

I set the paper aside and read the letter I had received from Lucinda, delivered by a very tired great horned owl who wore Diagon Alley owlery tags, implying that Lucinda had apparated to Diagon Alley and paid for the service. Before he left to return to his roost I gave him two of Hermes’ owl treats as a tip, something that deeply upset the newly returning Hermes who was giving the delivery owl a disgusted look for intruding. I gave Hermes two treats in the interest of fairness after the mail owl left and began to pet Hermes while cooing about him being my favorite owl, which seemed to soothe his offended ego.

Audrey,

I heard about the attack on your apartment building from a reputable source (Hannah Rokesby, her son has a room there and he’s a very nice young man) and since you did not answer your floo this morning, nor did not find you at the Leaky Cauldron, I must hope that you are staying with one of your friends. Merlin forbid you have spent the night wandering London. I require you to present yourself in person for a family brunch at ten o’clock sharp to offer Tavish and I irrefutable proof that you have not been murdered by purist lunatics. I do not wish to fight with your father about where you would be buried. It would be inconvenient as I have reserved you a lovely spot in the Ainsley family plot right next to me.

Warmest Regards,

Lucinda 

Alright then. Since I was not telling Lucinda I had stayed at Percy’s, I decided to tell her I ended up going with my neighbors to a No-Maj hotel for the night. That would have to do. I would have a small breakfast here to get my mind right and get ready to head back to my place for a change of clothes. 

I could hear Percy singing in the shower, his voice barely audible over the fall of the water. I did not know this about him. I could not tell if his voice was good or not. I turned my attention back to the paper, I would have more opportunities later to form an opinion on this particular idiosyncrasy. The other quirk was that I had apparently gotten him into American politics and he started picking up an American newspaper that an American expat a few blocks away sold at his novelty shop. 

Werewolf Pack Council Organizes Protest in MACUSA

The self-proclaimed Werewolf Pack Council has arranged werewolves from across the country to wave signs and sit in at MACUSA Headquarters. They congregated in front of the elevators and blocked the entrance for MACUSA staff members and government officials. Those involved were moved within the hour and taken into custody, but soon released due to the technicality of not breaking any of the usual laws related to protesting and public menacing. 

Council leaders were not present for this protest, many are still in hiding after the uprising last year, including Sassaba Lowella and Rudina Lupe who have not been seen since the Yellowstone Uprising, (See pages 3-4 for their capture information). Both werewolves are currently still active within their individual pack territories and have evaded capture by MACUSA officials.  

The Yellowstone Uprising killed four werewolves from various known packs, injured and humiliated at least ten Aurors and Wilderness Officials who were reportedly left in varying states of undress in the woods after being ambushed by the rebellious faction. 

Percy stepped into the room and flashed me a smile as I turned the page in the newspaper. He was freshly attired in a sweater and some nicer pants than the sweatpants that he slept in. His hair was still slightly damp and his glasses were still a bit foggy from the heat of the shower.

“What do you think of that?” Percy asked as he moved into the kitchen to make some tea. “You were right, American politics is a good break from everything going on here. No offense, of course, but your country's politics are mad. An uprising like that would never happen here.”

“None taken, I can’t explain any of this to people here without looking like I need to be recommended to a good mind healer.”

That earned a chuckle from Percy who stepped back into the room holding his tea and made his way to the vacant chair next to me so we could share the coffee table. He leaned back with a contented sigh that reminded me of a much older man. I passed him scones he had picked up that morning that I plated for the sake of appearances and kept them warm with a charm on the plate.

Percy sipped his tea while I turned the page of the paper to be greeted with a new headline that made me freeze.

Graves Speaks Out on Proposed Parselmouth Registry

Governor Adam Melgren (Virtus- North Dakota) of the House of Representatives has passed the bill to the Senate for the instatement of a Parselmouth Registry despite fierce opposition from Governor Maria Begay (Populi- Texas) and her caucus.     

Senator Ebenezer Sallow (Virtus- Florida), the Senate majority leader, brought the proposed motion from the Governors of the House to the Senate floor today to instate a Parselmouth Registry originally brought to the floor and rejected in 1851.  

"Parselmouths are dangerous, their affiliation with Dark Arts has long been proven through history in Europe and here in the States. The Dark Witch Nathaira claimed the ability and wrought havoc in the west ambushing wagons for money and killing the occupants with her band of venomous serpents! She killed seven Aurors and countless civilians when robbery was no longer enough for her! Now we have Voldemort causing chaos again in a country that is one of our oldest allies! Who knows what he could inspire in those already susceptible to the Dark Arts?” 

Resistance to the motion came immediately from Senator Teagan MacQuiad (Populi- California), they are currently working to get more young people involved in politics as part of an outreach program. 

"Are you going to paint human beings with the same brush? Treating them as identical, mindless pawns in your mission of fear mongering? Shame on you! We know there are more Parselmouths among the Native Americans and the Indian immigrants. How about you explain why you are really scared, Senator?”

The Senate quickly devolved into a shouting match between various factions leaving Vice President Martinez to call an end to the session for the day and to reconvene in the morning. 

In a rare display, President Graves broke rank to denounce the effort from his own party.

"I have spoken against this issue once before when I served in the Senate and I will continue to do so now as President. We have many groups in this country who practice cultural traditions that involve serpent pageantry in some capacity and ability. While the events in Britain are frightening, we will not paint American citizens with a brush of fear or degrade them by treating them as second class citizens and as an unproven threat. As long as I remain in office, Parselmouths will not have to live in fear of prejudice from their government."

According to reports from MACUSA Headquarters, President Graves was seen entering the office of Senator Sallow. This paper was unable to verify the nature of this discussion but Sallow appeared more subdued on the floor during the next registration deliberation.

I bit my bottom lip and chewed it nervously. I was shocked. My father had always tied his party line, he needed support for his eventual successful run for the presidency, but this was a whole different caliber than his previous breaks with senior party members. He had spoken up for Parselmouths against his own party before, but that was years ago, he had less to lose for doing so then he did now, it made him stand out then and endeared him to the general population, showing his flexibility and ability to break ranks as needed as a maverick. Now he had far more to lose and stayed in step with a position he had stated years ago in an off the cuff comment.

I… I was a little impressed, and comforted. This fight would rage on for a few weeks yet and I would have to keep an eye on it. 

I folded the paper back up and put it on the table so I could sip my coffee and think.

I was surprised that no similar efforts had been made in England for a Parselmouth registry, but then again, it was a very rare ability and would be considered a waste of government funds to try and implement. It's not really a list if only two or three names are on it, and there is too much risk of being called out for prejudice and discrimination for being on the list. Parselmouths and werewolves were different in many ways that made it easy to avoid the idea and reality of a registry.

Percy coughed quietly, clearing his throat to get my attention and pulling me out of my thoughts.

"You don't have to go back to your flat, you know."

I had no clothes and was wearing an old handmade sweater of Percy's that was a little too big for me and a pair of lounge pants (trousers he called them) that were very comfortable, but I needed to go back for other reasons. Mainly Lucinda. The state of her handwriting told me that no matter how flippant she was in trying to mask her worries, her shaky handwriting revealed the truth of her feelings.

"I don't," I started slowly, taking another sip of coffee, "But I need to see Lucinda, and I can't do that in your old clothes."

Percy nodded slowly, his mouth moving as though he wanted to say something else but he stopped himself short of actually saying it.

"I'm sure she's worried about you."

"She does. She's kind that way, though she says otherwise. I think Lucinda has a very clear view of herself, but not always how other people see her. They see a kinder Lucinda than what she does.” 

“If you need to come back,” Percy stirred his tea slowly, his knee bouncing quickly, “or if you just want to, my door is open.”

“Thank you. I’ll try not to do that at two in the morning again.” Despite the grim subject matter, I couldn’t help but grin. “I really appreciate you letting me stay over.”

“It was not trouble.”

We passed the last hour together in a comfortable companionship, discussing the news and arranging some of our next safety questions. It was overall a more pleasant morning then I would have expected after the events of the previous night. 

Chapter Text

May 22, 1997 

I had never visited the holding cells beneath the Ministry before. They were dark and musky, the cold was bone penetrating and made me wish I were anywhere else.

Elihu shivered next to me as we followed the guard deeper down the row of cells. He introduced himself as Barney Bacon, an older man with a generally happy disposition, who also happened to be massive and intimidating as a way to balance out the forces of the universe that governed how scary a person was supposed to be in passing. He was not chatty, but he did smile a lot.

I was down here as a favor to Elihu, he needed an extra pair of hands to do his preferred shorthand for him while he interviewed an incarcerated American who was accused of murder and he wanted his hands free in case he tried to do anything. I knew something was off about this interview, I had read some of Elihu's books on international law and from my understanding of what I had read, we had no jurisdiction or grounds to move the accused to MACUSA custody in any capacity of my understanding and I was not sure why we should in any case. 

It was after hours at the Ministry, I should have gone home thirty minutes ago, but the Ministry pushed the accused American’s move to Azkaban back a day so Elihu could talk to him and not have to go to the Azkaban interview rooms to do so.

Really, having interview rooms at a dementor prison was so stupid, I was not going to justify it with a long observation.

"I thought the laws about people being arrested by foreign governments did not require this kind of intervention? No special treatment, just making sure they're not treated worse than the other prisoners?"

Elihu glanced at the guard's back before speaking. "Generally yes, that is correct. I'm here to check his well being and because I have an interest in what brought Whitlock to this point. Also, there has been a longstanding… disagreement on the ethical use of prisoners being exposed to dementors as a punishment. While Americans are not paragons in handling prisoners or their punishment under the law, we don't generally like turning our prisoners into snacks. Even with the dementors gone, I would like to try and get the accused back to the states to serve his punishment instead so we don't have to get the International Confederation involved. We have a precedent for it, but it's complicated, there's a lot of dealing with the Law Enforcement Office and a few other departments to make that happen."

Bacon spoke up, "I dunno, without the dementors it's almost like you're letting the crooks off scot-free, isn't it? No one wants to reoffend with the threat of dementors hanging over them."

Elihu's mouth pinched into a thin line, his brow knitting together in a ferocious glare. "You do realize that your Ministry never truly controlled the dementors right? They cannot control something that has decided to sample the various flavors of the British soul buffet! That Voldemort-"

Bacon gasped, clutching his chest and stumbled over a slightly raised stone in the floor.

"Get a grip, man! The Chief Death Eater is the closest to holding a leash on those monsters!"

Bacon gave Elihu a look before he opened the iron door to a room that showed the accused through iron bars and thick glass that divided us. I noted the small table and the four chairs that lined the wall.

"Tell me about the security," Elihu's voice was pleasant and amiable as he looked at Barney Bacon with a grim expression. "Also, are there any restrictions on me?"

"No restrictions, Representative," Bacon rumbled. "You can go into the room with the accused, he's chained to the chair and wandless. You can conduct your interview through the bars here if you prefer, that's a preferred option for some folks, you can see him but he can’t see you."

"And you?"

Bacon shrugged, "I can stay here out of sight, or I can go in with you. Your choice, this is your show. If you think your team is sufficient, my office is across the hall and I need to finish some paperwork."

"That's fine." Elihu fixed his glasses and sighed, "Audrey, you stay here and take notes. I'll go in and talk to him."

I nodded slowly and readied my parchment book, setting my quills and inkwell on the table in front of me as I did my best to not think about it being Alex being threatened with Azkaban instead.

I took a deep breath as Elihu left me in the observation room. This would be fine.

Elihu stepped into the room with a bright smile and closed the door behind him before taking the empty seat across from the accused, Marcel Whitlock. 

I had a vague recollection of Whitlock, aside from what I read about him in the paper, he was a couple years ahead of me in school, a Thunderbird graduate. He was a young man with a plain, nondescript face. He looked like most people I passed in the street. Average build, his nose was strong in a way that helped add dimension to his round face. His brown hair fell over his forehead and made him look younger than his twenty-one years. 

"I'm Embassy Representative Weathers," he pulled out his own notebook and a fancy No-Maj… pen? I think that was the word. It had a gold tipped nub and no need for an inkwell. "I was told you needed counsel about how the next few weeks are going to go and I am here to provide it. Before we start, can you tell me what happened?"

Whitlock looked at Elihu with a hateful scowl. His chin was set, his eyes were narrow and I felt a chill go up my spine.

"I already told the Aurors. How about you ask them?"

"Aurors have never been noted for being intelligent note taking. I'd rather hear about this from you. Especially if I'm going to end up pleading your case to two governments in some form."

"I don't need the help of some half-blood."

"Alright, what about the service of someone who knows the law and how to keep you from being a snack?"

Whitlock scoffed, "The dementors left Azkaban months ago."

"True, but you're looking at decades in Azkaban, imagine if the dementors make nice with the Ministry and decide to come home to roost?” 

Whitlock smiled, “Do you really think any of that would happen? The dementors have chaffed under the Ministry’s yoke for decades, they had a weapon they did not know how to deal with that they were too scared of to use properly and now it’s under the command of someone who knows what kind of valuable asset they are.”

Elihu's face grew stoney, “True, but you’re accused of killing an elderly American war veteran on foreign soil, we don’t like that. We could leave you here or send you back. It depends on how nice President Graves is feeling that day.” 

I could never work in law like Elihu did, he was clearly a master of his craft and watching him work to make Whitlock comfortable, a little bit frightened and then play off his arrogance by turns was a masterful example of how dangerous someone could be if they were genuinely charismatic. Elihu asked small questions, made little comments that would get Whitlock to talk more and spew more under the impression that Elihu was a kindred spirit of some sort.

Whitlock spoke, his sentences were quick and I struggled a bit to quickly sort the relevance from the rabble and grew more grateful for my shorthand. 

He professed to have no recollection of his supposed crime, but he talked too much for it to be believable. That he recalled being at the scene but it was a blur, a collection of images and he felt as if he were outside of his body when the wizard, William Cromwell was murdered in his little country cottage. He was an elderly wix, about my grandfather’s age, who had served in the war against Grindelwald as part of the American troops, he had married an English woman he met during the war and she found him dead on the floor when she came back from visiting her friend in the wizarding village a few miles away. 

This was what made this case so unusual, Cromwell was an American citizen, he never relinquished his MUSA passport, he was a duel citizen through marriage. MACUSA really had no real say over what happened to his murderer, but it was of some interest to us because he paid taxes to maintain his citizenship and came to reunions for his old unit every three years. Cromwell had been murdered on foreign soil in the country where he spent most of his time and had a large community of people who cared about him here that he did not have back in America at this point beyond maybe fifteen people. What was Elihu’s motive in this? It would be a waste of time for his office to pursue. 

I felt like there was something he was not telling me about this. This was the kind of pointlessness Elihu usually elected not to engage in.

"The Dark Lord is the greatest wizard of all time!” Whitlock’s voice caught my attention, cutting through the general mindlessness of shorthand. “There is no magic beyond his grasp-!” 

Elihu raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly, "Really? You'll rely on dogma to save you over the hard facts of the law I am laying in front of you? Do you want to rot in Azkaban? I could still find grounds to send you back to MACUSA. You are not helping your case."

"Why should I submit to the mercy of a lesser warlock?" The man snapped, "An uppity half-blood like Jack Graves has no right to sit in judgment over the crimes of his betters!"

"Ah, yes, the lack of cousin sex disappointments you."

Elihu! No!

The hand that was not recording notes flew into my forehead with a loud smacking noise.

Whitlock smiled, seemingly amused by the crass of the cuff comment.

Ugh. Men.

"How about you tell me more about that?" Elihu's voice was slow and measured, encouraging and almost fatherly in tone and I could see Whitlock relax in the chair. "I must admit that uppity half-blood is not the usual way one describes President Graves in my experience. Normally descriptions are much ruder."

I was not going to touch that.

"Wizards should not dilute their blood with a lower caste of wix! Their filthy No-Maj blood makes us weak! Mudbloods-!”

I snapped the quill I was holding in two at the word that had just passed the rough man's lips. Disgusting, rancid little rodent!

Elihu continued to smile, outwardly unfazed by the slur. 

By the Twelve, Elihu. Let him sit in Azkaban for a few days and correct himself!

The man smiled wolfishly, seeming to revel in the idea of finally speaking freely in this way. “We both know I am not the only one drawn to a real pureblood revolutionary. There are others like me who want something better than the scraps left by thieves of real magic."

"Thieves? I'd hardly call a quarter of our magical population thieves."

"How else would they attain the gift of magic if they have no magical blood? We are the betters of the Seeds who sprout from polluted soil."

Oh now he's just raving. I have better things to do with my time.

"You do realize that most of our acclaimed warlocks from the last fifty years have been half-bloods, right?"

Whitlock continued as if he had not heard Elihu, "I'm told Graves' pretty daughter is here."

Ew.

A chill went up my spine at his tone.

"I wouldn't know, I lost track of her ages ago." Elihu's words were so convincing I almost believed it myself. "Nice girl, I hope she's doing well."

"She turned me down at Ilvermorny, I knew that arranged marriage story was bullshit but people still believed it for some reason."

I swear, people are ridiculous. I would maintain that the arranged marriage story was the best lie for my privacy I ever told in my life. I had a memory of my encounter with Whitlock, he asked me out in what I assumed was a joke, judging by the fact he had never spoken to me before in his life and his laughing friends several yards behind him. I had tried to be nice about it.

I watched Elihu's brow knit together for a moment as if trying to find the right things to say that would move Whitlock back to whatever topic he was really interested in.

"So, was Cromwell a Seed?" Elihu's voice was steady as his fancy pen scratched on the page. "I couldn't find anything definitive on the matter."

“He spoke the name.”

“Oh, Voldemort.”

Whitlock gave Elihu a nasty look. “That’s not a name for lesser wix to utter.”

So, Cromwell said Voldemort’s name and paid the price by being murdered by a zealot.

“You did this crime under your own power then? This old man insulted your master and you decided he had to pay for the offense? Wipe that smirk off your face.” For the first time during the course of this meeting, Elihu’s voice took a sharp edge. “You stalked him after he said the name, for how long I don’t know, waited until he was alone in the house, because you are not a talented wix, and broke into his house to kill him in cold blood! Tell me I’m wrong.”

Whitlock looked at Elihu with no fear in his red rimmed eyes, there was something angry, disturbed and empty behind those eyes that sent a chill through me.

Elihu slammed his hand on the table with such force that the bang echoed through the room and made me jump.

“You were never under the imperius curse, you committed this crime of your own volition!” Elihu stood up. “Best of luck to you in Azkaban, Whitlock. The MACUSA Embassy will check in on you every four months and not spare you a thought in the interim.” Elihu gathered his materials. “Guard! We’re done here!” 

I heard a door open across the hall and the key jiggle in the lock that led to the interview room.

Whitlock shouted obscenities about MACUSA and called Elihu something very racist, as he fought against his chains. Guardsman Bacon looked unfazed by the sudden shift to uncivilized verbage. Elihu held a finger to the window, quietly instructing me to stay where I was. I did as I was bid and watched Bacon haul Whitlock away to the cells that would mark him for transport to Azkaban in the morning.

Elihu sighed and knocked on the door. “Come on!”

I scampered out of the observation room with my quill and inkwell shoved into my pockets and my notes in my outstretched hand to give to Elihu.

“Why do you do this job, Elihu? I would not have stayed as long as you did.”

“You would have, because you believe in this job the same way I do.” He checked his pocketwatch and sighed before adjusting his glasses. “He was still a prick, don’t get me wrong. My point is that you and I believe in something bigger than ourselves, that the government is supposed to serve the people, even when they’re assholes.”

"It's a responsibility. The jobs are not glorious, but people don't want to do the detail heavy work of governing when they want to do other things."

“Exactly, and some hothead off the street doesn't need to come in out of a stupid lottery to fill a government post and try to handle the Whitlock situation the way I did. Whitlock is a talker, he's dangerous for it and people who don't know how to see purist rhetoric don't need to be in that situation. What did you think?"

"About Whitlock? He's pathetic, but that doesn't mean he should become a dementor buffet if they return to the prison." There was a question I wanted to ask but could never work it into my conversations with Elihu before now. "Have… have you met other Americans who came to fight for Voldemort? Who believe in this idea of blood supremacy?"

"No, but I’m sure they exist. Whitlock is just the first one stupid enough to get caught. I have no doubt that there are others. I generally don't like the idea of leaving a citizen of Magical America in a country at war with itself and Azkaban has already proven itself fallible. I’m not going to fight too hard to get him into MACUSA’s custody right now, Cromwell’s wife gets some input on how she wants this to be handled as a courtesy and I have a lot of other things to do. Dealing with Whitlock today gives me enough ground for my concerns that have been growing over this last year. It's the real reason I wanted to talk to him." Elihu took a deep breath. "I want to secure the embassy office. I would like to formally freeze all travel for Americans to Britain until they have been thoroughly vetted for a history of purist leanings and I would like to require the same who are leaving. We don’t need the Death Eaters rubbing elbows with our own purist groups. The ones we have now are small and toothless, more focused on doctrine and divinity, and I would like them to stay that way.”

“So, Whitlock was an outlier?”

“No, young men are stupid."

"Disparaging your own sex, Elihu?"

"You've worked with Thad-"

"You mean Chad."

Elihu waved his hand dismissively, "Whatever his name is, he's not important and never will be. No conviction or original thoughts to speak of, he'll grow up to be Virtus Party mouthpiece and be very pleased with himself. Anyway, he apparently talked openly to another intern about marrying hoping to marry into a political family." Elihu gave me a look, his mouth pulled back in an amused half smile that suddenly put a lot of my interactions with Chad into perspective. 

"Oh. Ew."

"Yeah, that's what I said. Anyway, do you see what I mean? Young men are led around by the idea of what they think a man should be, they think they should be important in the world by virtue of being what they are, pureblood in this case, and that their supposed place in the world is being usurped by Seeds or Muggle-borns, that their family connections and prominence should carry more weight and keep them above the supposed riffraff and not in the trenches with them. It's a weakness of character with a heavy dose of superiority."

I had seen shades of this my whole life, despite my father's many flaws, Jack knew how to buckle down and work to get things done. People respected that. He liked to educate himself on current events and could talk intelligently about a whole host of issues and how the past and history affected the modern day. Jack and Alex were very similar that way. Aside from Jack being Britain's definition of a half-blood, he never showed any inclination if Seeds being lesser, his view always was that magic, no matter where it came from or sprouted, was a gift. That Seeds were special for coming from nonmagical backgrounds and were a symbol of magic's continued strength in the world.

The things that I liked in my father were also what I liked in Percy. A willingness to work hard for everything, he could stand to have a bit more confidence in breaking with the lines he was fed by his supposed betters and managers, but that was something that tended to come with age and experience after someone finds their feet.

Elihu chuckled, "I may have an opening at the embassy in a month or two, Heather wants to go back to the states, her uncle passed away and she’s needed at home to help her cousin handle the estate. We need some time to arrange her transfer, since she says it's not an immediate emergency but you’ll be the first call I make to fill the post.” 

"Thank you! I've enjoyed the Ministry, but it's getting…" I struggled to find the right words. "Frustrating."

Elihu snorted. "Very diplomatic."

"Thank you." I looked over at him with a grin. "I do my best."

"You said you're not sure you could do my job, but I say the same about yours. I could not work that closely with those idiots as long as you have. I would have been fired long ago."

It would have been a spectacular firing, I was sure.

"Any other reasons you want to leave?"

"No, nothing at all."

Chapter Text

July 1, 1997

I feared that I had developed a habit at this job of walking in late to insane situations holding coffee. If I had a sickle for each time it happened, I would have two sickles and frankly I should not have any if I was working for a functioning effective government. 

I was expecting the usual quietly busy morning but instead there was chaos. All of the department heads were in the office, I quickly noted that Percy's father was not there, quickly picking out his deputy head's distinctive robe collar and matching trim. Somewhere in the center of the mass of people was Scrimgeour's voice, ordering them all to be quiet and stay calm. 

Percy? Where was Percy? I glanced at his desk, which sat empty aside from his stuff on the corner of the desk. I saw Umbridge standing off to the side with a smug expression as she had cornered Nobby Clark Senior, the head of accounting who looked desperate to escape whatever conversation she was having with him. I sipped my coffee and made my way over to my desk, my eyes scanning the crowd for a familiar shade of red hair.

"This is madness!"

"How did they get in?"

Was there another Ministry break-in? This place really needed better security. I had a drink of coffee as I stood over my in-tray and examined the contents.

"Dumbledore is dead!"

I froze, the mug resting against my lips as my hand began to shake. The talk I had with the kind, wise old man several months ago ran through my head. He helped me find Alex by somehow getting me in touch with Thalia. Now he was dead?

I put my coffee down and gripped the corner of my desk to stay upright. 

"How did the Death Eaters get into Hogwarts?"

“It was Snape! The professor!”

Hogwarts and all magical schools were a kind of fortress of knowledge and protective enchantments. Centuries of knowledge spelled on top of on another to ensure that the students would be protected from harm and enemies who would lay waste to among the most vulnerable members of wix society.

"Is it true Greyback savaged some poor man?"

Wait? Was last night a full moon? I wasn't sure. I never paid it any mind before.

"How do we tighten security to protect the children?" 

Maybe actively hunting down your dark wizard problem? Maybe having competent management who know how to do their jobs without having a series of senseless meetings before doing even one useful thing.

I needed someone borderline reasonable to discuss this with. I glanced around for any sign of Percy. His stuff was on his desk, I knew he was here somewhere on the floor. He would not be far away from this mess in case the Minister needed him. Tea. I bet he was making tea, it was too early for Agatha the tea witch to come to our floor. 

I stole another look at the crowd of people around the Minister and made sure Umbridge was occupied before leaving the room with my coffee mug in hand.

The hall was both too long and too short to be real. The noise behind me was fading to low murmurs and panicked noises that were occasionally audible and distinctive over the low discussions. 

I turned into the break room and found Percy making tea. He was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet with his back to the doorway I was standing in while the office emergency kettle tried to begin to boil on the stove.

“You okay?” 

Percy’s head nodded, though he did not turn to look at me. I peeked out into the hallway to make sure there was nobody coming before stepping quietly into the break room to do something that I knew was stupid.

When my hand came to rest in the center of Percy’s back, it moved in quiet, comforting circles upward where I could brush my fingers over the back of his neck. The tension I could see lessened under my hand. 
 
“Talk to me.”
  
It’s a heady thing, to feel someone exist and breathe under my hands. I could feel Percy breathe in slowly before heaving a quiet, heavy sigh. 

“I was told this morning that my brother was badly injured at Hogwarts.”

“It’s not Ron, is it?” From what little Percy had told me about his family, Ron might have been my favorite of the bunch. Also, the one most prone to getting in the thick of situations that were not fit for school children. 

I took my hand off his back and pulled out my wand to load the coffee press with a flick of my wand while Percy reached for his steeper and a tin of the fancy tea. Oh, he’s bringing out the fancy stuff, that is not a good sign.

“No, for once it’s not.” 

I got my coffee press started and glanced over at Percy’s hands, they were shaking as he measured out the tea leaves for the steeper.

“It’s Bill. He… The Minister told me…" I could see his lips press together as he collected himself. "He's in the hospital."

"Was he at Hogwarts?"

Percy nodded, "When the Death Eaters broke in, they had Greyback with them-"

An hiss of air was sucked through my clenched teeth. I knew how that story ended. Isolt's panties, Percy looks understandably wrecked!

“Do you want to go see him?” I kept my voice low, barely over a whisper and put my hand on his arm, just under his elbow. “I can handle things here if you want to go.”

“I…” 

It was rare to see Percy at a loss for words. He seemed genuinely torn about going to see his brother in the hospital and perhaps the rest of the family by proxy. I knew the last encounter had not gone well, maybe this one would be better if there were no vegetables within reach. If it were my sister in the hospital, would I go see her? Yes. I had faced my father already and cleared the air in some ways. I felt I could perhaps ignore Vanessa to tend Annette if the situation was the same, but this conflict Percy had with his family had so many different layers to it that I no longer felt there was anything comparable to my own issues with my own family. 

“Is my father here?”

“Hm? No, I didn’t see him. His deputy head is here though so I assume he’s with your brother.”

“I’ll stay here then.”

I did not ask if he was sure, he sounded full of shaky conviction. 

He finished making his tea and squeezed my hand before leaving to return to the office.

I added sugar and creamer to my coffee and took two minutes to sip it in silence as I gathered my thoughts. I would go to Annette, or Alex in that situation, of that I had no question, but facing two people I had angered was a far different animal then facing eight. That was a lot of eyes. A lot of judgment. A lot of witnesses who, I gathered, would not be restrained in their opinions. Jack and Vanessa were manageable, it was easier to hold my tongue around two people then it would be for Percy with his own massive immediate family.

I could not judge Percy for his choices, even if I would make different ones. 

Oo0Oo0

July 3, 1997

Attending what was essentially a state funeral was an exercise in nodding and smiling and looking less bereaved than I actually felt. Dumbledore was an astounding loss, it felt like a turning point for this war and not a very favorable one. The Minister had gone to Hogwarts within the first hours of him receiving word of Dumbledore's death, he had arranged to come handle the international aspects of the funeral on behalf of the school with select members of the Ministry at hand. Scrimgeour took Percy with him because he needed an extra pair of hands, leaving me alone with Umbridge to manage the chaos in the Ministry.

It was easy to distract myself.  

The grounds of Hogwarts were beautiful. They were lush and green that made me want to lay down and soak in the bits of sunlight coming through the thin layer of clouds. I could see a large, dark lake in the distance where something that appeared to be a… is that a tentacle?  

Don't look at the tentacle. Don't think about what is living in that lake with the merpeople.

I could see the castle, looming against the pale blue sky and felt my breath catch. Oh, it was beautiful! The ancient stonework and moss that threatened to climb the outer walls of this old fortress gave it a gentle feel to contrast the piercing height of the towers. A castle that had stood as a monument to education for literal centuries and very much laid bare that Ilvermorney was only around three hundred and fifty years old. An imitation of a building that had stood for a thousand years that had been built by a lonely girl and the family she eventually made there. 

Percy had talked enough about Hogwarts that I could match his descriptions with what I was seeing before me. He told me about the general history of the school. I thought the ominous Forbidden Forest was stunning, clearly dangerous, but there was something about it that I found both scary and enticing. It was home to one of the only centaur herds in Britain. I thought I saw a young one peering through the trees with a child sized bow in hand. I stole a glance at Umbridge who was looking at the forest with trepidation and suppressed rage before she turned her attention to the lone centaur in the crowd.

There were more people arriving from where the carriages had been parked nearby, unloading more visitors who had arrived at the Hogsmeade entrance to pay their respects. The carriages were pulled by an animal I had only seen sketched in books. We did not have Thestrals in America, if we did, they were not a native species and were probably in a zoo or something, though the difficulties caring for an animal that could only be seen by those who had seen and accepted death was sure to cause complications in their care.

The Thestrals were beautiful in an ugly way, all bones and pulled taut skin.  

I stopped to look at them when I stepped out of the carriage, I was not sure when I would get another chance to do so. The Thestral looked at me with a gentle expression, its white eyes like sun bleached bone as it pressed its nose into my hand for a scratch that made passersby look at me like I had escaped the Spell-Damage Ward at Saint Mungo’s. 

There were hundreds of chairs set up for visitors and students who had yet to arrive. The students would be coming last, I imagined it was a large affair to get all of the students lined up and assembled for a massive event like this. Dumbledore was not just a headmaster, he was a renowned international figure. I could not imagine being newly in charge of Hogwarts and having to arrange all of this on short notice, though I was sure there was a plan in place for the inevitable event, Dumbledore seemed the type to know his importance in the world, no matter how humble he was on the matter.

I exchanged a quick hello with Cornelius Fudge, who still wore his green bowler hat. I saw no reason to be impolite, he had always been kind to me.

There was Pius Thicknesse, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement with his usual stern expression with a heavy brow that reminded me of a crab peering out from under a rock. I saw him in the Minister’s Office a lot giving personal reports on the hunt for Death Eaters and Voldemort. He was a distant sort of man, consumed by his work and all it entailed these days.

I could see Oriana Peregrine, the Head of International Magical Cooperation. She was a slight woman in her late forties with dark hair and eyes. She worked with Elihu a lot and he really had no complaints about her or the people under her who managed the sub departments. She was speaking with Orson Turlington, the Head of Magical Transportation who was leaning on his cane with a grimace. 

I turned slightly away from the chatter of the Minister and the other officials to look at the crowd. 

I could see Elihu Weathers in his official office regalia, a white stool with the MACUSA emblem on it over black robes. He was speaking with Valencia Talbot who looked grim and contemplative as strands of her short, boyish hair flew in wild directions to escape her attempts to make it look nice for this grim historical event. My cousin Quincy was nearby with Cassandra, both on duty and appearing both polite and stern despite the warm smiles at passersby and Ministry officials who wanted to speak with Elihu. I looked back at Valencia and Elihu for a moment, I was beginning to wonder if they were a little more than friends. I would never ask about it, it was not my business, but I think they would be good for each other if it was something they both wanted. An instinctive need to call people out on being wrong could be a very uniting factor for people. It was always nice to know other people saw the same weird things you did.

There was a head of white hair not far from Elihu speaking with Auror Chief Hanlon and Auror Mankiller alongside an Auror who wore the distinctive emblem of Presidential Protection. I moved slightly behind an exceptionally large woman with a French accent to stay out of my father’s line of sight. I gathered her name was Madame Maxime from the conversation she was having with someone who I recognized as the French Minister of Magic. 

This was the funeral of the century, I swear.

I made sure to keep someone between my father and I at all times, I did not want to deal with him today. 

I turned my attention to the rest of the assembling crowd, the arriving students and professors, clad in black to make them appear like a murder of crows against the green grass of the lawn. The rest of the crowd was beginning to drift towards their seats. I saw Scrimgeour and the small Ministry delegation, including Percy and quietly made my way over when Percy locked eyes with me. I greeted the Minister, feeling less awkward now that I was with people I knew. Scrimgeour paid me no mind, his eyes were skimming the crowd of students and the rest of the crowd. 

I looked around as well as seats began to fill, taking in the sight of a man with wrappings over most of his face. I could see the corner of his mouth tighten in pain as a radiantly beautiful blonde woman who spoke encouragement with a heavy French accent helped him into a seat. The man had long hair pulled back in a ponytail and it fully clicked that this was Percy's brother. Phil? No. Will? No. Bill! That was it!

I exhaled through my teeth. Savaged by Fenrir Greyback on a night where there was no full moon. Insanity! I couldn't think of any other case like that. Would he be a full werewolf after this? That was a question for wiser people. I knew Greyback was dangerous, but to attack an adult wizard and take the time to seemingly enjoy the brutality of the process was a staggering implication of how far gone he truly was.

The beautiful blonde woman took the seat next to Bill and put her arm through his and shot a nasty look at someone who had been staring at Bill for too long.

I could feel Percy tense next to me as he stole a look at his brother before turning away. I did not imagine he wanted to open the door to his family right now. 

A low growing chorus of whispers from the flock of Ministry workers caught my attention. I whipped around as the name Harry Potter crossed an old woman’s lips. 

A child could not look the part of a supposed chosen one. Harry Potter had, I didn't want to say he looked boyish, his wild black hair and clear expression made him look both older and younger than sixteen, but there was something burdensome on his shoulders that seemed to be more than grief that made him look like a man. Expectation seems accurate, the expectation of others to be their savior now that Dumbledore is gone, but children should never feel that way.

Some part of me wanted to ask about it. If he believed in this prophecy the way the rest of Britain did? Did he have the power to kill Voldemort? A warlock of such power that people feared to even speak his name long after he was defeated for a time by an infant. 

Another, more roguish, part of me wanted to ask if it was true he could speak with snakes the way I could, but all of these questions were for another time in another place, not to be posed to a clearly grieving, burdened boy.

Someday, maybe, if the opportunity ever came.

A mane of red hair moving next to Harry Potter caught my attention. It was a similar enough shade to Percy’s that I knew exactly who had just wandered into my view. That was without a doubt Percy’s sister. She was a pretty girl, slightly built and a bit on the short side with freckled cheeks and seemed prone to a bright countenance in other circumstances. Nearby was an exceptionally tall red haired boy in school robes, that must be Ron. He looked remarkably like Percy in a lot of ways. Next to Ron was a girl with a cloud of bushy brown hair.  

I saw Arthur Weasley was not far away talking with some people who I assumed to be the teachers. The small, soft woman next to him had dulling red hair that was pulled back from her face. That was definitely Percy’s mother. She had a soft, round face and just looked like someone who would hug you if given half a chance while giving you little confectionaries. There was something in the shape of her eyes that reminded me of Percy.

Oh no, I can see the Terror Twins. I’ll be fine if I don’t make eye contact, I really did not want to explain how I knew one of the twins to Percy. That would be very awkward.

The call was finally made for everyone to take their seats, I took a seat next to Percy behind Mafalda Hopkirk as Scrimgeour moved to the front row with the Hogwarts staff. Percy told me the names of the professors that came into view and what subjects they taught. He distinctly pointed out the new Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall.

The merpeople who lived in the lake sang their own tribute from the water, a mournful dirge that spoke of loss and despair and I did not have to speak Mermish to understand the sentiment.

Dumbledore’s body was carried out to the entombing platform by the man called Hagrid, a professor at Hogwarts, who was weeping. The body in his arms was wrapped in purple velvet with golden stars and within was the same Albus Dumbledore that had helped me find Alex all those months ago. I watched Hagrid blow his nose and weep on his way back up the aisle to sit next to… a runty giant who patted the weeping man on the head with such force that his chair legs sank into the ground. I turned back to face the marble table, biting my lip to suppress a laugh that threatened to escape. Percy pressed his leg against mine as the Orator began to speak.

The funeral itself was a beautiful affair. Funerals in America were more like a religious ceremony, ornate magic to entomb the dead in a coffin by a church official or rituals to honor the ashes if cremation was chosen. A dinner to celebrate the life of the deceased usually followed. Cousin Martin and his sons who ran a funeral home, owned a large cemetery and also had bought a crematorium and mausoleum twenty years ago to be more well rounded for the funeral business. Graves by Graves was also ordained to do these rituals for the dead for families who did not want a religious ceremony. Shawn, Martin’s grandson, gave me a whole lecture on the preservation spells to help slow decomposition, the heavy herbs that were used traditionally on bodies who had died of dark curses or contagious diseases, a combination of old magic, safety and superstition.

I thought back to Elizabeth Fudge’s funeral, it was a very simple, almost No-Maj affair for it, aside from the spells used to carry her to the nearby cemetery and fire sparks to honor her life. I was due to visit when the flowers bloomed at Thornell I intended to bring some for her grave.

The Headmaster was encased in a white tomb that would be left out to the air as a kind of place of pilgrimage, to honor a headmaster who died defending his school. Hogwarts was by all of the accounts I had heard in the last few days, his greatest and proudest accomplishment among a lifetime of many lesser wix would consider greater in the grand scheme of things.

The screams when the fire was lit for the entombing spell offered me a smidge of dark comedy in the trying moment. Percy jumping and grabbing my hand made it funnier.     

The centaurs fired arrows in tribute from the edge of the Forbidden Forest which fell short of the crowd, causing more screaming and made Umbridge flinch violently a few rows in front of Percy and I, giving me another moment of private amusement under the dark circumstances of the assembly. Really, it was not a good funeral with some other reminder of mortality. 

In short, the ceremony was a beautiful event.

The crowd began to dissipate, a clear nervousness in the air as the finality of the greater significance of Dumbledore’s death truly began to sink in. I stretched and ambled away from Percy who was speaking with Mafalda Hopkirk. I had seen Lucinda and Tavish not far away and was hoping to bother them to help avoid my father.

There was a low whistle somewhere below me to get my attention, stopping me from getting to my destination. I looked down to see Thalia Rannulf leaning on her cane and taking quick glances at the half mummified Bill Weasley who was speaking with his parents while leaning on his girlfriend for support. I suddenly felt the need to ask a pertinent question.

“Will he be a full werewolf if he wasn’t bitten on a full moon?”

"I don't think he'll be a full-blooded werewolf," Thalia's voice was low, "But like our bite scars, he'll never heal to be like he was." She shifted slightly on her bad leg. I held out my arm to steady her on the uneven ground, which she took with a quick smile. I caught a glimpse of two rings that were hanging on a chain around her neck.

"When did you marry my brother?"

"We haven’t," Thalia gave me a grim smile. "Dumbledore getting murdered put a stop on it.” She paused and glanced around, lowering her voice. “Alex says something is brewing and he took off in a hurry. We have the paperwork together, I just…” She glanced over where my father was speaking with his security detail and Auror Mankiller. “If we get married now, with the simmering werewolf drama in the states, even if we’re well hidden, how long would it take for the press to find and pester us? If we’re lucky, that would be after You-Know-Who is dead and gone, if we’re not lucky, then there’s a bigger target on Alex’s back and puts a target on me by Greyback and his supporters.”

Alex had taken off again. I wondered how deep he was in this? I was not sure he could get any deeper into Voldemort’s cult but… Ugh. I wish he would stop doing this. It wasn’t just hurting me anymore and as much as Thalia claimed they both liked their alone time and independence, there was a sadness in Thalia’s eyes that I understood.

“He wanted you at the wedding. I think he’s starting to realize he’s not been an attentive brother.”

Oh! That would be nice. I felt myself smile. "Then I’ll call you my sister anyway, because I've always wanted another!"

Thalia looked up at me with wide eyes. "You’re sweet. Just don't expect to be an aunt to human children," Thalia's smile widened, "You'll be a fantastic dog aunt."

"I'll do my best. Toys and fancy treats then?"

"Just for birthdays and Christmas, or they'll get spoiled."

"I can do that."

Thalia was good for my brother. Steady, intelligent and maybe helpless in a way Alex liked, he always liked an underdog story. Though Thalia would never see herself as a victim of circumstance or fate, she had too much pride in her accomplishments and herself to allow herself the option to wallow that way.

We would have time to celebrate together and plan on how to manage the private lives Alex and Thalia wanted to lead. 

“How are things with your social club?” I chose my words carefully, not wanting to bluntly use the words werewolf or pack in public. 

“Fine. Mostly. The kids are cagey, I get why. There’s a couple of orphans the older folks are looking after. I heard about one who left the community entirely and is hiding with people who live outside the community itself.” Thalia paused. “I heard the kid’s in Knockturn Alley, they might be old enough for school next year. I doubt the school or Ministry would allow them to attend even with the potion after what happened here.” 

I was not sure either, I knew there was a werewolf instructor at Hogwarts a few years ago, though Percy said the laws had tightened considerably since that came out. I imagined that would impact students with the condition as well as it did in America, where my understanding of the werewolf issue was that the children were as much pariahs as their adult counterparts. It was part of the reason the packs had organized themselves. 

I could see Percy making his way over after his conversation with Mafalda Hopkirk from the Improper Use of Magic Office came to an end. I knew she was the Deputy Head of the office, she was getting ready to take over the office properly when Wendell McKay retired, which he was set to do next month.  

Thalia released my arm. “I have some appointments to check on. I’ll let you know if your brother reaches out.”

“Please do.”

Thalia took a look at Percy and slipped into the crowd that was meandering away from the funeral. 

“Who was that?”

“A friend of my brother’s. She’s a potioneer, wanted to know if I knew anyone who could send her some goldenseal and sassafras from America.”

“Oh, I’ve never heard of those.”

“They’re not British plants, they’re traditional American herbs.” It was why I did not bother to make potions here, I was used to different ingredients for similar results. I would like to grow some American herbs here someday in a greenhouse in my own backyard. That would be nice. A little cottage out in the country, a garden, that nice greenhouse I thought about on occasion. 

Percy and I were far away from other lingering parties. I could see the Minister speaking with Harry Potter by the lake.

Percy looked around before peering down at me, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, his brow knit together in stress as his eyes roamed over me. I watched his lips press together in thought as he shifted his weight on his feet and moved back and forth in a barely visible manner.

"Move in with me?"

I felt my eyes grow to the size of dinner plates.

“What?”

Idiot response Audrey. 

Percy inhaled slowly, seeming to find his footing before speaking again to explain his logic. “I worry about you living alone with everything going on, I think we’re safer together.”

I wanted to tell him that I could take care of myself, but that was a snappish answer. How would this work? Would we share a bed? I didn’t mind, but that brought a new level of intimacy to the equation that I was not opposed to, would go far beyond making out on his couch and I needed to talk to him about a whole host of things before any of that happened. I had a plan for this dammit, and he’s screwing it up! My father is literally thirty feet away! Oh, by the Twelve, my father is looking at us!

I backed away slowly, curling a finger to get Percy to come with me. He did without much prompting, I led us away from the funeral site and out of my father’s sight, taking a longer route along the lake back to the carriages that were not due to begin departure for another half-hour. I could think better without Jack’s eyes on me.

“I’m not opposed to the idea,” I started slowly as Percy looked at me with a glowing, puppy-like expression that was making this very hard. “But-”

“I can clear out my office! Whatever makes you comfortable!”

Good to know, not what I want, but that was a kind offer.

“Can I have some time to think about it?”

Percy smiled, nodding slowly as I grappled with a deeply rooted desire to kiss him, but not being impulsive enough or dumb enough to do so publicly and would have to save that for later.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course.” He adjusted his glasses and was about to say more when Umbridge called him over in her saccharine, sweet way that made me want to gag.

I looked out over the dark water of the lake and let the reality of the war I had been ignoring wash over me. The one restraint on Voldemort was entombed here on Hogwarts grounds and a teenage boy was, according to a prophecy I was not sure I believed in, destined to finish the most powerful dark wizard in a generation. Whatever Scrimgeour thought Dumbledore and Potter were up to, I hoped it would at least do something.

I took one last look at the castle, enjoying the resemblance to Ilvermorny and the unusual sense of peace that the grounds provided. I wonder if this war will go on as long as the last? Decades of death, murder and senseless bloodshed? 

With a resigned sigh, I wandered towards the rest of the departing crowd to return to the Ministry. Perhaps if there was true diligence, maybe the lives of thousands would not have to rest on a teenage boy.

Chapter Text

July 26, 1997

The touch of Lucinda’s mind felt like that of an old friend or the cold hand of a mother checking their child for a fever. It was easy, comfortable and familiar in a way that comforted me in an unspoken, primal sort of way. 

To stand in the forest between two branching paths, the roads laid with signs pointing in opposite directions, the signs warning of both danger and peace in each direction in a confusing array of falsity and truth. 

I felt Lucinda reach out again and the landscape shifted to a field with a little cottage house sitting at its heart, nestled in yellowing grass and green hedges at the edges of the property that stood firm in the slight breeze. A comfortable image I created to lure in invaders to a sense of peace and safety under what they would believe to be a true memory.

Lucinda's invading presence was stern, the outline of her loomed at the garden gate, her cloak billowing to the side in the breeze. Her form shifted to something fey and ancient, beyond my short comprehension of years. Faded and wispy, cold and hungry for something I could not place as the seasons began to change under her influence. Lucinda liked to probe my mind under particular conditions, she preferred a cold highland winter to unsettle my grip on the sanctuary I had crafted.

The clouds rolled down, dark gray and heavy as the gate Lucinda was pushing open slammed closed with a thud as the snow began to fall.

I focused on holding my image of the sanctuary I had built over the last year. I did not want to push her out and away, I wanted to build a convincing lure to false memories. 

She tapped the wood of the gate, smiling in satisfaction at the sound and brushed her fingers against it to nod and the texture.

"Nicely done."

Lucinda's approval was rarely given in these scenarios, I felt myself flush for the attention and sincerity of it as the praise bounced inside of my head like an echo.

The scene shifted as Lucinda forced her way deeper into my mind, not falling for my easy trap beyond the wooden gate. A swirl of color and voices found us in the middle of a street lined with cages and enclosures that contained many magical creatures.

I was much smaller than I had been in the country cottage I imagined for myself. My hair was bobbed to my chin and the sparkly pink coat I was wearing solidified that I was around four in this memory. It was my recollection of one of the days mom and I would take day trips after Alex left for Ilvermorny.  

This was the New York Magical Habitat and Rehabilitation Zoo. Mom brought me here a lot as a girl. She liked the creatures that were native to America that she never saw or studied back in Britain and buying tickets supported the organization and their causes. Dad preferred this one to the No-Maj zoo, the snake dens here were not eye level with nosy little girls and had deeper enclosures that were able to keep them away from tiny parseltongues.

I could see the wampus enclosure, the large six legged puma was sitting in a tree with a contented expression, its tail switching back and forth as it looked down at the feeding station below and to the enrichment chase toy nearby.

Several feet down the road was an enclosure with a blinded horned serpent who could no longer live in the wild and was spending the remainder of its life as part of an educational program. She was out sunning on a rock in the center of the river, her scales glimmering green and aqua in the sunlight, her horns were like the antlers of a deer, only white like old bone.   

My mother had knelt down to talk to me, her blonde hair was loose and fell forward taking the brunt of my vision for a moment until she brushed it back behind her ears. She looked content and happy, she brushed stray hairs from my face before picking me up to have a better look at the animals as she pointed them out to me, her voice full of excitement to engage me and make me giggle in shrieks of laughter.

The image shifted to reveal Lucinda appearing next to us out of thin air as if she were molded into being by it.

Lucinda admired the serpent, tilting her head with a wry smile before turning back to me. "This would work if I did not know you as well as I do." She pointed at the snake. "I like how you have entwined and layered true, harmless memories with the false ones that hide anything of value. Clever."

She pointed at the ruby gem on the horned serpent's forehead. 

The scene shifted again as Lucinda forced her way into the next layer, the swirling color of the ruby gem consuming my vision.

"I'm impressed with these," Lucinda waved her wand and disappeared the attacking books that were flying off the shelves in the Ilvermorny library. “Very astute to attack me with your own surroundings, but I would remove the teeth on the bestiaries, a bit on the nose.” 

Chastity was popping her popper gum loudly in the corner as she hid a raunchy novel behind the textbook she was pretending to study from one of the nearby study tables. This was our sixth year, her brown hair was very long and she was wearing a plaid shirt as a jacket in what she called modern No-Maj grunge style. I had no intention of dress coding her even as a dormitory duties, it was a Saturday and she was not in class, therefore she could wear what she liked as long as her private bits weren't popping out. Besides, I thought it was kind of cool.

I was pretty amazed she had gotten that outfit into the home of her preacher father let alone got it out again to come to school.

"Audie!" Chastity waved me over with a bright smile.

This was a real memory like the others after the cottage, but, aside from the one with my mother, they were meaningless and distracting. I had hidden things within the memories that would lead to the core of my memory palace in a roundabout manner. The grass trap beyond the wooden gate. The snake in the zoo. Here in the Ilvermorny library was a real trap. 

Chastity had never spent any time in the library to read raunchy novels. She did that in more public settings on the grounds or at the Quadpot stadium. Also, she hated No-Maj gum, she said the flavor never lasted longer than two minutes and magical gum tended to spark and the bubbles would take the shapes of animals.  

Lucinda reached out for the copy of my favorite book The Time and the Night that was laying on a nearby table.

Then there was nothing but noise, a loud yelp from Lucinda as she lost her grip on her legilimency spell and the trap I laid broke open the wall of her own mind. 

I suddenly found myself sitting on the couch of Lucinda’s parlor while my great aunt aggressively sipped her tea next to me. Across from us was an older woman at the later end of middle age with graying brown hair and a thin, pinched mouth.

“I believe we can come to an agreement over Thornell under the right conditions.” The woman had a voice that was quiet as if she were speaking to a child and not someone much older. 

I looked out the window to focus on what Tavish was doing to the bushes for a moment, what shapes he was turning these bushes into with rhythmic flicks of his wand as he consulted his notebook of ideas and garden planning.

“Lucina did make an advantageous marriage, even if it was not one of your own choosing.” 

If I focused, I would be able to hear Lucinda’s teeth grinding together in a symphony of repressed rage behind her idle smile. 

“We are willing to let go of the inheritance agreement.”

That would be great! I looked over at Lucinda who was still smiling pleasantly at the Averys, masking the disdain I could feel radiating off of her even in memory. 

“We will relinquish any rights to the house and petition the court with you to see it changed formally to whatever you see fit if Audrey marries Harrow.”

A cold dread settled in my gut, my brain whirred with possibilities to end any made arrangements quickly with prejudice.

“Ianthe, you and I both know there is no controlling those Americans. I’m not convinced her father would be amicable to the idea and he would have more sway over the girl then I do.”

Liar. 

Lucinda took a sip of tea and the world changed around me for the final time. 

I was back in Lucinda’s office, my brain bouncing around in my skull and a wave of nausea overcoming me momentarily as I gripped the arms of the chair. Lucinda looked no worse for the wear from where she sat on the other side of the desk. She looked at me with an accomplished, proud smile and I felt I knew what she was going to say before she did so.

“Congratulations! You passed.” 

The smile that I gave at the proclamation threatened to split my face in two. 

“I’m truly impressed. I have nothing else to teach you about this.” Lucinda smiled at me with such warmth that I would have believed it out of character if it did not have the usual wry edge to it. "Now, there are an assortment of other topics that I feel you could benefit from under my tutelage."

"If you're willing to teach, I'm willing to learn." I leaned back in the chair, the feeling of relief and accomplishment making my limbs slack. "Thank you Lucinda."

Though, if she wanted to spend time with me, she only had to ask and not engage in such elaborate scenarios. 

Oo0Oo0

I was still flush with victory over Lucinda's proclamation over my mastery of occlumency as Percy opened the door to his apartment. I rose to the tip of my toes and kissed him on the cheek with a quick hello as the door clicked closed behind me.

"Hi."

"Good evening." He smiled at me with such warmth my stomach flipped and clenched. I lov… I really like the comfort between us. It's so warm and natural, like something that had always been there and would stay there. It's easy. It's simple. 

I had turned down Percy's offer to move in with him, I did not want fear to be the primary motivation behind the action. I would allow it to be a factor, but not the main actor. Great men died, it was the natural order of things and I had real doubts that I was important enough or close enough to anyone else who would warrant that kind of response so close to home.

Percy put his hand on my lower back to guide me towards the couch as he proceeded with the niceties.

"How's your aunt?"

"She's fine." I pulled a tin of cookies out of my purse and put them on the living room table. "Lucinda gave me these, they're sugar cookies she got for Christmas, she didn't like them for some reason. No accounting for taste."

Percy grinned. "Who gave them to her?"

"Susanna, the Head of the Administrative Office. They're old friends. Do you need the tin at all?"

He shrugged, "I could find a use for it. Keep my inkwells organized?"

"We sound very old."

"Don't go that far!"

I chuckled and Percy drifted his fingers up and down my spine in a way that was both ticklish and flirtatious before I stepped away to turn on the radio and find the program about the magical society of ancient Egypt that Percy found advertised in the Daily Prophet. We were an hour away from the program starting, but now there was a very low hum of music in the background.

I put my purse down on the floor by the table and sat on the couch next to Percy, pressing against his side as he stretched his arm over the back of the couch behind me with a contented noise. I would probably doze off once the show started, I was very comfortable.

"What do you think about the Azkaban breakout?"

Really? He wants to talk about this now?

"I think you know my opinion on it."

"No, you were muttering under your breath while you were making coffee. I have no idea what you said."

"You know me well enough to make an educated guess."

Percy's arm came down over my shoulders to pull me closer, tucking me firmly against his side. He was very warm.

"Stupid.” I said with audible disgust. “It's stupid to keep that from the public.”

Every day I worked for the Ministry I felt like I was finding new lows of stupidity and mismanagement. It was the kind of thing my father would come home and rant about, officials who were controlled by outside influences related to money and the lobbyists who controlled the purse strings the way a puppeteer would a marionette. 

“I mean, you're not going to tell your citizens that there has been another mass breakout of your clearly penetrable prison?" My arm that was pressed between Percy and myself had enough leeway to move as I spoke and I was vaguely aware of my efforts to wave it around as I continued to rant. “Scrimgeour can't complain about a lack of trust when he shows no transparency."

I assumed Scrimgeour had been going over the will with the critical eye he did not devote to wartime politics. Perhaps that was an uncalled criticism to a man in a position I knew to be an impossible one, but being a political figure meant hearing hard things on occasion and as much leeway as I felt I had, I did not want to push my luck by calling Scrimgeour a lunatic to his face. That would not be good optics. Calling Scrimgeour an idiot to Percy’s face was a little different.

“Scrimgeour has holed himself up in his office like a hibernating bear once he got his hands on Dumbledore's will and been functionally a nonentity in matters of direct leadership in a bid to get one metaphorical victory over a dead man.”

Whitlock was one of the names on the escapee list. I had quietly mentioned it to Elihu who proceeded to roll his eyes and mutter something about MACUSA having less frequent escapes from our prison compared to Azkaban these days. 

"What do you think?" I tried to ignore the way Percy's fingers were trying to undo the loose bun I had my hair in and the way they were massaging my scalp and the nape of my neck in the process. 

Percy made some kind of noise between a sigh and a groan. 

"I'm sure he has his reasons."

"Do you think there are good reasons for it?" I put my hand on his knee, his fingers stopped trying to undo my hair in surprise as he looked at me. His arm moved to come back to rest over my shoulders. “He should alert the public. The people deserve to know that these people who helped kill Dumbledore escaped at least! They're dangerous!"

"Then people will panic and lose all their faith in the Ministry."

"I don't think the Ministry deserves their faith at this point."

"We need to trust that Scrimgeour knows what he's doing. He's an ex-auror-"

"So are most of my relatives and I wouldn't trust them to be capable of political nuance, I'd trust them to hunt dark wix, but Aurors do that in silence and shadow, political power requires a whole other set of skills to earn the trust of the people. When you are the face of the nation, the face communicates, that’s its job and Scrimgeour is not doing that.”

“He’s making some plan to keep Potter safe.” 

“I would hope so. Dumbledore getting murdered is one thing, but Harry Potter getting killed not even a month later would kill Scrimgeour’s career before he could say chosen one.”

“Scrimgeour says that as long as Potter’s covered by the Trace, and underaged, then he should be perfectly safe.” Percy was speaking with a confidence that I just did not possess on the matter. “He’s ordered no floo connections be made to his home, that the area is to be kept under surveillance for his protection. Now all they have to do is figure out how to move him out and keep him alive in a more permanent manner.” 

I almost asked if the Ministry had plans to freeze Potter's head if he was killed or something. It was a thing No-Majs talked about as a way to be brought back to life in a hundred years or so, the rumor was a famous No-Maj entertainer had secretly had the process done to his own head. I mean, if they thought it would work… 

It took restraint not to ask about the head freezing. 

The voices on the radio moved into an introduction to the program about the magical society of ancient Egypt, the low rumble of drums entwining with flutes and strings before the presenter’s voice began to make introductions. 

"My brother Bill is a curse-breaker, he was in Egypt for several years.” Percy’s voice was low and thoughtful, as if he were dispersing some kind of secret. In a sense it was. 

That was surprising, both that Percy clearly had a brother with a cool career and that he had even mentioned one of his older siblings. He preferred discussing his school aged siblings, Ron and Ginny, a kind of pride that was some combination of brotherly and almost a kind of paternal countenance to it that I did not find too strange from his general disposition. 

"Really? That's awesome!" 

Percy looked distracted, his eyes moving towards an open envelope that was sitting on the table. The flap was open and I could see beautiful blue paper peeking out of the enclosure. I could tell it was a high quality paper, thick, the kind used for formal announcements and invitations.

I reached over to the envelope, giving Percy a questioning look as I silently asked for permission. He gave it with a quick nod of his head. The invitation was printed on a pale blue paper and the words in a creamy ivory color giving it a warm, inviting air.

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Mister William Arthur Weasley and Miss Fleur Isabelle Delacour on the First of August. Ceremony to be held at 3 p.m. and reception to follow.

I took in the rest of the invitation, the ceremony and reception would be held at the Burrow, Percy's family home. That sounded so lovely and intimate. I idly wondered what exactly the house was like. I imagined something warm and inviting, but spacious enough to hold a wedding somewhere on the property.

We had never really talked about it.

It seemed to suit us fine.

“Are you going to go?”

He sighed, shaking his head slightly. 

“Why not?”

“The invitation is from my mother, not my brother.”

"Oh, that's…"

Awkward.

"The family doesn't care to have me back aside from my mother. I'm not going. If they wanted me there, Bill would have sent me an invitation himself."

Yes. That would be the proper thing. With Percy's mother sending it, it had more of an air of motherly desperation and affection than from that of the family as a collective. An invitation like these would mean more from a relative who would not have reached out previously or had been less insistent. Though, it was very awkward and very… fairytale-esque to have a sensitive reunion like that at a major family event where emotions would already be high for other reasons. It was as if his mother were relying on the standards of civility around weddings to keep everything pleasant.

No. Like Percy, I did not think it would be a good idea to go.

We settled into a comfortable silence as the radio show truly began. The male voice discussing some of the history of Egypt and the famous magicians the ancient world had produced. Tying into the complexities of myth and the rituals involved in placing complex magical curses on wizard tombs and their effects on those trespassers who wished to rib the riches within. The talk fell to the horrifying nature of these curses and the horrible fates of those who originally found and explored these tombs with mummified sorcerers buried within.

I had a passing thought about what it would be like to have a second head, but the idea of a lack of privacy for the rest of my life was the true horror of the scenario.

The program ended an hour later, but we didn’t notice, we were busy kissing passionately on the couch. His glasses were pressing against my face until we parted for a moment for Percy to take them off and place them on the side table before turning his full attention back to me.

It was easy to be together like this. Percy's hands in my hair, undoing the loose bun I had my hair in so he could run his fingers through it with one hand and caress the back of my head with the other.

Percy was bossy, but I did not feel it came over in full during moments like this. I would call in more insistent than anything else. He had a better idea in the moment then I did and it was nice not to anxiously analyze what I was doing and exist in the moment where everything else just melted away to a world that existed in touches and quiet whispers as he pressed me back against the sofa cushions. I giggled against his mouth as I lay back, slipping my arms around his neck to play with his hair and keep him on top of me while I moved a stocking covered foot against the back to his leg in a silent approval. 

This was nice.

I bent my knees to keep him close on more instinct than thought, cradling his hips between my thighs. He pulled away from my mouth to press his lips against the line of my jaw while seemingly muttering something I couldn't hear before he moved back up to press his mouth against mine again for a brief moment and moved down to my neck where I could feel the playful brush of his teeth as he sucked momentarily on my neck making me gasp and tighten my grip on his hair. 

Time seemed to dissipate, outside noises faded away entirely. All I could feel was all the places Percy was touching me, the way he moved against me in a manner so intimate it made me understand why my old roommate Chastity found sex so fascinating. My hips were unconsciously rocking together with his in a way that caused noises to escape me that I had never made before in my life, high gasps and whispery sighs of pleasure.

“Wait…!” The word escaped me with minimal effort and everything suddenly stopped. 

Percy exhaled against my neck as his hands slid out from under my skirt where his thumbs were slowly tracing the edge of my panties, brushing my hips and outer thighs with his cool fingers that moved down my legs to my knees as he pulled away from me. I wondered when exactly that had happened during our rendezvous.

I mumbled something that sounded like an apology as he sat up and moved away and I brought my legs back together to tuck beneath myself as I covered my swollen mouth in thought. I had no care for sex on a couch, not now, maybe in the future, there was something interesting I had read in a book that I was intrigued by. I had been comfortable, I felt safe but it suddenly felt so real and inevitable and not something I wanted to happen right at that moment.

I brushed my hair from my face and glanced over at Percy who had leaned back and covered his face with his hands. I could see the bright embarrassed red of his ears as he caught his breath. 

“You tell me when. I’m in no hurry.”

I nodded slowly as he peeked through his fingers to look at me, a hunger and desperation in his eyes that I was sure was equally matched with my own.

Chapter Text

August 1, 1997

It was an oddly sunny day, I stepped out of the alley a few blocks from the Ministry entrance. It was too nice of a morning to use the Floor Network, even for a walk of a few steps. My other choice was to use the entrance through the No-Maj subway network and even a few minutes outside could be a nice change of pace and invigorate a body. I slipped into the rundown building that was marked for repair next to the apparition point to find a line to the elevator that would drop us in the Ministry. 

The main room of the building was Victorian in style, all high ceilings and fancy wallpaper that was peeling from the walls. I could see a few other people ahead of me in line for the lift that looked like a bird cage that sat near the stairwell. I pulled a book out of my purse to read as I moved up the fifteen people deep line of people.

I found myself squeezed into the lift and subjected to the stomach dropping shock of moving quickly underground. Someone sneezed behind me. An old lady gasped at something she read in the newspaper. An old man talked about his plan to leave the Ministry and convert his brother's old house to an apartment space for young people who needed a place to live. He seemed very passionate about the project.

The high ceiling of the atrium greeted me in its usual way as I stepped out of the lift. A low hum of noise and bustles of activity over an array of multicolored robes.

I winced and made my way over to the newsstand to pay a sickle for a morning paper wondering what kind of shenanigans Potter had gotten involved with in the last twenty-four hours, the paper had a spread about it being his seventeenth birthday yesterday, he had apparently gone missing from the Ministry’s observation not even a week ago. The Ministry had gone into an uproar at the use of magic over this restricted area but they had not arrived in time to be useful. I was surprised Potter lived long enough to see his seventeenth birthday. 

I imagined it was more shocking to Potter.

I thanked the newsstand operator, an old man named Giles Westover, and made my way to the elevator as I flipped through the headlines. I stopped on a section of book reviews and winced.

The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore

Really? The man is dead. Freshly dead! Biographies published within two weeks of a person’s passing are not reliable or nuanced sources of information. I can’t believe they’re still talking about this in the paper.

I had gotten a copy from one of the women from the secretarial department, who shoved it into my hands and asked for my opinion. I wanted to tell her it was trite and hearsay, who cares if his fight with Grindelwald had elements of a lovers tiff. Grindelwald wanted to put the magical over the No-Majs and frankly, that’s not how the world works. The tyrannical minority should not rule over a reasonable majority, but that would involve the majority seeing the threat and actively suppressing bad ideas and bad political actors.

Though, there were some interesting things I found in the book. I knew Aberforth was not a common name and it was odd to be sent to the Hogs Head pub to pick up the message from Thalia all those months ago. It did put some of my encounter with Dumbledore into context, he sent me to his brother to take the final steps in finding my own. I did not care for his past sins, in the years after his time with Grindelwald his actions spoke volumes. He grew past the easy hatred that power brought and tried to do good works.

There would be other biographies by more reputable authors than Rita Skeeter in the years to come and I would pick one of those up instead for a more nuanced view of one of the greatest wizards of the twentieth century. It was just a shame the Skeeter published first. 

I went back to the paper. There was talk of advancements on the speed of Quidditch brooms. Alright. Tell me when they get approved for Quadpot games.

There was a convention of Aurologists having an annual meeting in South Korea only to unexpectedly end up investigating some very odd magical disturbance in a public bath house. At least it was keeping with the idea of the Aurologists getting together to compare notes. How funny. 

There had been attacks in Bwlchgwyn and Porthgain, both towns in Wales. Okay. These attacks are truly patternless, the Death Eaters seemed to have a preference for assaulting in fully wizard communities these days, it amped up the fear they wanted to project.

The elevator closed behind me as I moved to happier news, bypassing the obituaries and heading towards the marriage announcements. There were little sparks of joy since Dumbledore was killed, people were running off to Gretna Green for quick weddings, the braver ones were announcing it in the paper. It was like the Daily Prophet was as tired of printing tragedies as I was of reading them.

I found an announcement in the paper for the wedding of Miss Fleur Delacour, former Triwizard Champion for Beauxbatons, to Mister William Weasley. No location was listed for privacy's sake because there were lunatic murderers afoot.

Oh. Percy got the invitation a few days ago. I thought back to the beautiful wedding invitation he had received, the cream paper and blue ink, the elaborate fancy writing. 

I had a passing thought or two of my own wedding, Lucinda would want a say in my wedding robes, she had been sitting on her wedding opinions since my mother eloped in New York. Depending on which one I was less angry with at the time, my father or Alex could give me away, I couldn't slight them that way unless things had gone very wrong. Tavish could sit with Lucinda, he was more a grandparent figure and would deeply enjoy shit talking about my other relatives with Lucinda, particularly my father. I could hear him whispering ‘numpty’ in his heavy Scottish brogue just out of Jack’s hearing.

I burned with excitement to hear Lucinda’s thoughts on Vanessa. She had never really said anything in my presence but I yearned to hear Lucinda’s opinions, her attempt to shield them in a polite, subtle way that would absolutely baffle my stepmother. I did not care to hear Lucinda say things in a similar vein about Annette and Aldridge, I knew Annette was weird, I was sure she knew it too, and sometimes that did not lead to confidence when one was becoming an awkward teenager. 

Maybe a spring wedding, new life, new beginnings. No, there is too much pollen, Annette had some spring allergies. 

I would deal with the logistics later, there was a more interesting part of this fantasy and I wanted to see some part of it. 

The groom seemed less faceless than he had in previous imaginings. His red hair was meticulously combed and set in place, his glasses were as always polished and he looked at me the way he always did, with a bright happy look that I did not think graced his face enough.

Of course, this was the fantasy version of what I wanted. I knew Percy and my father probably should never meet, my memory of his meeting Alex reentered my thoughts as I stepped off the elevator to the Minister's floor. That would not go well at all. My father would probably call Percy a stupid tit too.  

By the Twelve, Aud, get a grip!

I wondered if Percy had changed his mind on not attending his brother's wedding? I didn't think he would. It was not the time or the place to do so in any case, in that notion, I felt he was correct. Apologies on both sides were not the kind of thing to be done at a wedding, it would put a shadow over the whole affair on both sides.

The figure of Percy sitting at his desk told me that he had not changed his mind on the matter. His mouth was set in a stubborn expression as he went through the piles of paperwork that had accrued over the last forty eight hours. He told me he was staying late at the office tonight to catch up on everything. I was half thinking I should stay and help him. I had no plans tonight until Misty and Zara came over for drinks.

Elihu had told me he would have word for me about the position at the Embassy in a few days. I fully expected to quit quickly so Percy and I could end some of this sneaking around and I could give him his chance to end this relationship after I came clean. Isolt's panties, this could go in a lot of different directions.

Percy muttered a brusque good morning to me, which I returned as I got comfortable at my desk.

It was so easy for the pair of us to fall into our roles. Stiff and passionless, friendly but not overly, all of that was for a different world where things were warmer and the touch of a hand in Percy's flat could lead to several minutes of what he referred to as snogging (what a word!) frantically on his couch.

I thought back to our encounter a two weeks ago and suppressed a shiver as I sat down at my desk.

It was a normal day.

Scrimgeour came out of his office. An odd thing after spending every free moment he had going through Dumbledore’s will. I guessed his trip to see Harry Potter at Percy’s parents house yesterday did not provide him with any concrete answers.

This job was so strange.

Scrimgeour leaned on his cane and examined the room, "There's a lot to do today."

When wasn't there a lot to do these days? I didn't mind the work, but it all felt so monotonous and I wondered why Percy found it all so fascinating. Maybe it was because he had an unspoken love for finding very strange, useless laws much like Lucinda and my father. Oh, Merlin. I did not want to make that comparison again.  

There was a knock at the door, Percy answered it before I could, and stepped back to welcome Pius Thicknesse to the Minister's Office. I checked my schedule, Thicknesse was not on it. It must be important if he's bypassing the usual channels of memos and floo calls to the Minister.

My wand gave a low hum from the holster at my waist, hidden under the outermost layer of my work robes.

Strange. It had been making a lot of noise these days, normally it was very quiet like a normal piece of very special wood.

"Minister," Thicknesse smiled politely, his eyes glittering under his heavy brow as if he were looking out from under a rock. "I'm sorry for the interruption, but I was hoping to discuss something with you of some urgency."

There was something in his face I did not like. I had met Thicknesse before, he was generally a quiet guest, very calm for a man running a very active department. Likable for not being a pest and for being a rare guest. It was odd to see him up here without an appointment.

"What is it, Thicknesse?"

He looked around the room for a moment, seemingly distracted before returning his focus to Scrimgeour. 

"I trust everyone in this room," Scrimgeour's voice was low and Percy, visibly flushed at the notion of being so trusted, put silencing charms on the door.

"We believe there is going to be a meeting of supporters this afternoon. With your permission, I would like to send two teams of Aurors and Enforcers, one to go into the Undercroft to arrest them or flush them out. The second team is to watch the exits for the ones that scatter.”

The Undercroft?

“After the last Undercroft raid, you have it. How many do you need?”

“As many as can be spared. There seems to be a sizable number of suspects.”

I had been to the Undercroft, it is massive. I did not know how many exits it had, I was not sure those who frequented it knew either, and if the locals did not know for sure, then I doubted the Ministry had a clear number. 

“All yours. I’ll stay late for your report. If this works, this will be a real blow to You-Know-Who.” There was a glimmer of pride and ferocity in Scrimgeour that I was unaccustomed to. It was different from his usual hard expressions. He was seeing the potential for a breakthrough. A chance to end this war without relying on one he viewed as an insolent child. To finally pull a success over the corpse of Albus Dumbledore.

“Perhaps even the final one,” Thicknesse allowed himself a smile, one that looked unnatural on his face in the way smiles did on solemn individuals. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

Thicknesse left as suddenly as he arrived and I hoped my brother would not be in the Undercroft today. No, Alex was remarkably intelligent and clever, he would not be caught in a ploy like this. If he had to fight one of these Ministry Aurors, Alex had it in him to escape or win a straight duel. If there was arrogance at the top, it would flow down through the ranks as if it were moving through a gutter and these Aurors were both arrogant and frightened, both conditions that would ruin them in wartime conditions.

The day continued on with a tense kind of monotony, Scrimgeour’s mood was high and anticipatory, he went down to the Law Enforcement Office with Percy to sit in on the plan for the raid and offer input. I was left to handle general affairs while indulging in my usual imaginings of clawing my ears off every time Umbridge coughed or reaffirmed her existence with some kind of feminine noise. She reminded me of Vanessa, something I tried not to dwell on too much. To Vanessa’s credit, she was able and willing to love her children and had a soft spot for chickens, but there was nothing of that sort of nature in Umbridge. 

MACUSA President’s Daughter Strangles Senior Undersecretary of Ministry of Magic for Existing, would be a very awkward news headline and cause an international incident.

I did not want to be broken up with in a jail cell.

Two more days. Two more days and I can put everything into motion to leave this job and tell Percy exactly who I am before this relationship goes any further. Even if it ends, even if it comes apart, I can trust him with the knowledge of myself before the rest of the world figures it out. I doubted any deals struck with the Minister would be honored after I left my position or transferred out to a new department. I was a valuable political pawn, my continued, confirmed, safety would keep Jack from beating down the Ministry’s doors and ruining hundreds of years of amicable trade and international alliances.

Jack Graves loved the status quo except on the few issues he cared about. I was sure I was one of those issues. I was not entirely sure about the others. 

I did not want to find out.

I glanced around to make sure Umbridge had retreated to her office before charming my newspaper to take the shape of a bird to fly across the room to Percy’s desk to get his attention. He looked up when it landed on the corner and gave a feeble, soundless effort to squawk before falling backwards into his trash can as a crumpled up newspaper.

"Are you staying late to work?"

Percy nodded, "I have a lot of work to do. The Minister's staying too, he's got a late meeting with Thicknesse, he wants a full immediate report on the Undercroft situation."

"Oh." I wanted to say that if I stayed late with him we could go look for food when we were finished, but that was too much to say publicly. "Do you want some help? I don't have any plans until after seven."

It was a Friday, I was hosting tonight's get together with Misty and Zara.

"If you like." He picked up his schedule book and rose from his desk to bring it to me, wordlessly asking me to go through and double check the times to make sure there was no overlap and pull the appropriate records for each meeting. Our fingers brushed as he passed me the book and it felt intentional, making me look down at him and smile as the corner of his mouth pulled up in pleasure at the contact between us.

Percy looks at me sometimes and everything just goes so quiet, like we're the only two people in a crowded room.

And then I remember my lies and hidden truths and it all falls down around me in a cacophony of noise.

The rest of the day passes in a kind of comfortable silence. Percy and I had our slightly overlapping lunch break to exchange some conversation in privacy as Umbridge kissed Scrimgeour’s ass about something. 

I waved to Umbridge, who was stepping out the door, she had an appointment of some sort and was leaving early. That seemed reasonable, I didn't think she had any friends or people who willingly spent time in her company.

It took restraint to not visibly shudder at the idea of Umbridge having friends. What would they even talk about? Cat plates? A shared hatred of half-breeds or horses? That sounded like a hate group meeting back in America. That would be where Umbridge would find her people. It would probably be a group based in suburbia, a middle class community with carefully manicured lawns, snobby stay at home parents with some stereotypically weird homeschool kids. Umbridge would probably only be invited for living on the block and having a government job. Yeah, I could see that.

I noted the scheduled arrival of Thicknesse that was on the schedule. My eyes took in the notation pinned next to it. Thicknesse expected to have results on the Undercroft raid by then, or at least a lead from the event. Percy was a meticulous notetaker in regards to scheduling. 

I wondered if anyone had been caught? How secret could this stay if it was required? The Daily Prophet never seemed to give a full story, a lot of it read like propaganda pieces. Elihu and I had a lot of discussions about that over the last several months. We knew the Ministry really ran the Daily Prophet, but still, this level of control was excessive and worrying. 

There was that low hum from my wand again. 

Horned Serpent cores tended to bouts of occasional chattiness, intelligently warning their owners of danger through low hums. I was in danger all the time these days by working for Ministry of Magic, danger of boredom, danger of a nap, danger of being kidnapped and ransomed by MACUSA's enemies, really I could run a whole gauntlet of things that could threaten my life or my job and none of it would be too to far out of reach. Though nothing in the Ministry was physically threatening. That would be ridiculous.

Really, this was far safer than my own apartment building at this point. 

Another hour passed, I had grown quite bored of backlogged paperwork. Thicknesse was going to report back by six, wanting to hit the group in daylight, probably hoping the sudden change from darkness to light on the supposed offenders would give the Aurors an advantage. 

I knew it was beginning to grow dark outside.

A crisp knock at the door woke me in time to stop my head from hitting the desk over this report. Percy rose from his desk on the other side of the room to get the door.

“I got it, Percy,” I straightened my robes as I walked over, motioning for him to sit back down. Which he did with a warm smile at me as I touched the doorknob, turning it as a low musical note emitted from my wand. Strange, but my wand made noise all the time these days. I would take it to Ollivander's but he had been missing for a very long time.

The door opened and a cold chill fell over me like a fever that had finally broken.

A pale figure clad in black robes stood next to Thicknesse. The figure was tall with crimson eyes that gleamed within a skeletal face. There were two slits where the nose should have been that made this creature look more snake than human.

The pale monster stepped forward slightly, smiling in a way that was like someone mimicking the expression without ever having seen it done before. I stepped back, my legs feeling as if they were attached to lead weights.

The voice that spoke was high and whispery, sending cold shivers down my spine and an implacable horror I had never felt before.

"I'm here to see the Minister."

Chapter Text

August 1, 1997

"Audrey, come here!"

Percy's panicked hiss cut through my terror, moving my feet when my own will alone could not.

Voldemort glided past me like a wraith, the hem of his robe ghosting over my shoes and the stench of dirt and a sense of death wafted over me. He was tall and pale under the hood of his cloak, like something undead, resembling the lich from my grandfather's stories that had long haunted my nightmares. Only Voldemort was not decaying and rotting, he was firm of flesh and gaunt in appearance. Skeletal would be a more accurate description. The magic around him was exactly as my brother described, old and reeking of something well beyond my understanding. It made my hair stand on end, he was a horrific manifestation of fear and dread given mortal form and I suddenly understood why wizards refused to speak his name.

I was not sure I ever would again. 

Backing away from the wraith who was now examining the office with disinterest towards Percy was a far quieter affair then one would expect. The room was silent, though I could have just been deafened by the shock. I couldn't take my eyes off the horror before me.

Percy pulled me behind him, meeting me halfway and putting himself between me and Voldemort who was observing the pair of us, seemingly relishing in our shared terror. 

I grabbed the back of Percy's robes, I was not sure it would do anything substantial, but I was ready to yank him out of the line of fire if needed. I could feel him shaking under my hands and trying to get control of himself.

Voldemort held a finger to his lips, his wand casually resting in his other hand, the tip barely visible in an unspoken threat. He didn't have to tell us to be quiet. I did not have it in me to scream. 

Percy stepped back, pressing me against the desk as something large moved into the room that I could not get a good look at as Percy shifted in front of me. I could see the two men that came in next. One I recognized from the Daily Prophet, Corban Yaxley, who had been arrested at Hogwarts not even a month ago and had escaped custody during the second mass breakout from Azkaban barely a week later.  

The second was far more familiar to me as I had last seen him this morning. Pius Thicknesse.

I felt Percy's increasing tension under my hands, that way he stiffened when he saw Thicknesse and I knew we were both thinking the same thing.

We had been betrayed from within.

Now, we had to deal with the consequences and try to come out alive.

Percy and I moved away from the desk and pressed ourselves back against the wall as our wands were yanked from our grip by a disarming spell, they flew into Thicknesse’s outstretched hand as he took up a position at the door. Percy stayed in front of me, putting himself between me and Yaxley's drawn wand, who rolled his eyes at the defiant display and Thicknesse looked on with a blank expression. What was wrong with him?  

The jailer that really caught my attention was the giant snake that was curling up in the middle of the room. It was watching Percy and I through glimmering eyes, it lay coiled and comfortable on the floor like a lavish pet. This must have been what I saw entering the room after Voldemort when he arrived.

The snake… the snake did not feel like an animal. It looked like one, but there was something unnatural in its movements. The way it examined us. A kind of twisted expression of humanity, of true thought, in its eyes that made me sick in an instinctive way I could not describe. Snakes were animals, the ability to speak to them was spoken of by Native American wix from a few different tribes as a kind of gift from nature, a sensitivity to the natural world, but this creature was not a natural creation. It reeked of magic so old and dark and twisted I could taste it on my tongue.