The young man shot out of nowhere and took the fugitive on foot. Gawain Robards rolled his eyes and pocketed his cigarettes. He flicked his lighter, bored out of his mind, and bit his tongue in order to stop himself from losing his voice over these idiots. Every fool with half a brain flocked to the Auror Department the moment they slid out of school by the skin of their teeth. By the first week, the morons separated themselves from the idiots. Given a few months, the lines grew more definite. A lucky few actually survived the gruesome hell of qualifications, and the fledglings who got through were watched by the senior officers like hawks. Confidence went hand in hand with experience; with three days left until the initiation, the young men took matters into their own hands.

Alastor Moody listened to nobody. Gawain had picked up that note the moment the fool had walked through the heavy oak doors. This morning, he had arrived late and undermined the formalities. Angry, Gawain chose to wait, hoping Rookwood, a man who they’d been trying to catch for ages, may teach him a lesson. Gawain blinked. Next second, piercing screams filled the air. The lighter slipped out of Gawain’s hand. The cigarette still hanging from his lips, Gawain stared, mesmerized, at the human torch who ran in circles in the alleyway.

Rookwood fled and Disapparated. Gawain froze, shocked. “Oh, my God!�

Out of the corner of his eye, Gawain saw a cat dash down other street. As it got closer, though he felt sure it was a trick of his eyes. As it got closer, a figure of a woman with dark hair appeared. Minerva wore black robes and strode past him, draping her cloak over the injured man. She drew her wand out of her robes and water shot out of the end of it. Gawain, too, shrugged off his cloak.


“Are you just going to stand there?� she asked, glaring at him.

Gawain snapped out of it and tucked his cloak around the young man’s leg. Moody had slammed his face onto the pavement, and Gawain held him close, cradling him like a small child. With the flames nearly extinguished, the scent of decaying flesh filled their nostrils. The woman steeped back, horrified as Moody’s eye shrivelled like a raisin and fell out of its socket; the optic nerve remained intact. Scared out of his mind, Gawain did not know what to touch, so he stroked the dead hair that fell out in clumps. His voice was caught in his throat. On the off chance that the words soothed him, Moody heard nothing and writhed in pain.

“Can’t you do something?� Minerva glanced down the deserted street.

“Stupefy!� Red sparks flew out of the end of Gawain’s wand. Moody fell silent and went limp in Gawain’s arms. He muttered the same apology over and over. “I’m sorry; this was my fault, all my fault.�

It had seemed a simple trial. Gawain had planned on pursuing the man whilst Moody took notes on the sidelines. As a reward, Gawain had actually considered handing over the interrogation once they had dragged the suspect back to headquarters. The whole plan went up in smoke. This man, the one who he had banked all his hopes, lay motionless. Did they even have anything on Rookwood? He, Gawain, had granted the upcoming hopefuls the benefit of the doubt. Time passed. He didn’t move a muscle until Minerva suggested they must not linger at the scene.

“Don’t touch him.� Gawain slapped her hand away. “No!�

Gawain feared infection if they moved him. Of course, an explanation posed a problem, too. He’d take full responsibility. Minerva yanked away, frightened, and Gawain took a deep breath, apologetic. After a while, he case a Patronus thinking it’d be wise to send a message ahead. The longer Moody waited in lines, rumours and questions ticked away time, and he was in desperate needed of healing. He got to his feet and held the man close to his chest. They couldn’t stay there because the poor man would eventually wake up. If the poor man had thought he’d felt pain when he went up in flames, this would surely eclipse it.

“Are you all right?�

“Walk.� Gawain shook his head, letting the tears fall. A car zoomed past. “It’s – it’s the stench. Walk.�

They couldn’t risk Apparition. The chances of Moody Splinching were too great, especially with the open wounds. They moved in slow motion. He had to think of something else, anything else. The two of them couldn’t just turn on their heels and vanish out of nowhere. At any rate, his mind swam with his panic. Minerva nodded at a homeless man who huddled beside a dumpster and took Gawain by the arm. It suddenly dawned on him that she’d changed.

“You did it.� He glanced at her, his mind back on the cat. She merely looked at him. “Well?�

This wasn’t the reaction he’d expected, not after all of those years this woman had poured into study and research. In school, she’d tossed this goal around, but Minerva might as well have said she’d planned on jumping off the bridge. She’d applied once before and failed, yet this only fuelled her to scrap everything and start anew.

“Benjamin owes me his vault,� she said, smiling.

“Damn straight,� said Gawain, shaking his head. “What? He’s not speaking with you? Lovely.�

For some reason, this gave him private satisfaction. Despite the age difference, Gawain, the shy one, had grown attached to Benjamin Fenwick and Minerva McGonagall back in their school days. Benjy and Gawain had entered their third year when she’d arrived. Benjy used her for a laugh, and Minerva met him as a match on more than one occasion. She stayed with Benjy over the summers when term ended at the school because he’d insisted on the company.

Minerva slipped her hand into her pocket and showed him a handsome quill, one of Benjy’s favourite possessions.

“You’re going to kill him,� he said.

They strode past the dilapidated buildings and Gawain waited for about thirty seconds for a small crowd of gossiping women to move out of the way. They were admiring a green dress hanging on a mannequin. Apparently, the display window showcased a new fashion, and the shoppers wondered aloud why this place didn’t turn around profits. Gawain cleared his throat and pressed his face against the glass.

***

They waited and they waited some more. Planning ahead rarely solved anything. The queue moved faster than usual. Honestly, Gawain couldn’t make that comparison because anytime he had to hurry up and wait, his mind turned to mush and everything sort of blended together. Eventually, they placed Alastor Moody in a ward and the waiting started all over again. He slid down the wall and squatted down, listening to the screams. Minerva had left after the Healers had sorted everything with admissions. Gawain could leave, too, but Moody had no next of kin. He stayed.

“Those aren’t allowed,� said a voice.

Gawain took a long drag on his cigarette and looked up, exhausted, expecting to see a figure dressed in lime-green robes. Nobody told him off. A thin man with damp dirty blonde locks and grey eyes grinned at him as he wiped his glasses on a soaked shirt. Benjy grinned and tossed him an edition of the Daily Prophet.

“Who asked you?� Gawain looked down at his hand. He’d been clicking a dead lighter.

Benjy tossed him a red one. “You left it in your writing desk, and you’re welcome, you prick.�

“I’m not reading your shit rag.� He glanced at the front page. A man with a long mane of thick hair and thick eyebrows stared back at him. “Definitely not. This tomorrow’s edition? Oh, look, you wrote it.�

“You and Scrimgeour are going to murder each other,� Benjy said.

“Funny, I said the same thing about you,� said Gawain, frowning. Benjy waited for him to clear that up. “Oh, you’ll find out later. So, she signed the registry this morning?�

“Who? Minerva? Yeah. She hadn’t slept for three days, either, not that I care.�

Gawain knew by his tone that he was kidding. “I told you not to play with that woman. Telling her no, you’re just asking for it. What’d you tell her before she addressed the committee?�

“Oh, I just said we’d make a detour to Tower Bridge on the way.� Benjy laughed. “I bet she’s ripping the ribbon out of my typewriter, the wrench.�

Gawain opened his mouth, weighing his options and thinking he’d be better off standing in for her defence. He highly doubted Minerva would resort to such drastic measures; she set an example for those kids. People honestly didn’t know her, and, he believed on some level, Minerva too, had forgotten herself as she conditioned others to stay inside the box. It proved an easier route no doubt. Gawain never enjoyed being around children because half the time he felt as though he was crawling out of his skin to connect with them and not have them run off screaming for Mummy.

“She won’t do it,� Benjy mumbled, speaking to himself.

“Mr Robards.� A Healer cracked open the door and Gawain finished off the cigarette. She glanced at her clipboard and invited him inside. “He’s asking for you.�

Gawain clambered to his feet and threw the butt into a potted plant in the corner, which swallowed the evidence and belched. Benjy said nothing and merely picked up the paper and leafed through it with a bored expression. Beds lined the walls, and he spotted a man whose detached leg kept hopping onto a bedside cabinet. The man, however, looked quite serene and sipped from a smoking goblet.

If Moody felt any pain, he showed none of it on his face. It was rather hard to tell. He refused to look at anyone for long and insisted that they dress his ripped stump and get on with it because he had better things to do. The Healer offered him an eye patch and he answered her by throwing a bedpan at her. He missed. Gawain pulled up a chair and helped himself to a bowl of soup. He spooned up a bit and held it over the man’s mouth.

“You’ll need your strength,� he said, nodding at the young Healer who stood nearby. “Reconsidering your career?�

She merely waved her wand, siphoning the mess into a bucket.

“What’s your name?� Gawain asked, pulling out his handkerchief when Moody’s chapped lips split and bled. The Healer stopped her work and conjured a crystal goblet filled with ice chips out of thin air. “Thank you.�

Moody coughed.

“Support his head,� she suggested. Gawain followed her orders and ignored Moody’s one-eyed glare. The Healer set potion vials on the bedside cabinet and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Let him get something in his stomach first before he takes a swig. He’s lucky to be alive, this one. And it’s Poppy.�

Gawain watched her wander over to another patient and yank the curtains closed for privacy. He held the bottle up to a burning taper and thought that was an ingredient.

“You’re a fool,� said Gawain, taking full advantage of the one-sided conversation. Moody had acted on instinct; the senior officials could hail this as heroic bravery or complete stupidity. He didn’t know where he stood on that one yet, though something inclined him to lean towards the latter. There was no use beating the man to death with a lecture. He cleared his throat and ran a hand over his scruffy chin. “Hell, I would have done it, too.�

Moody stared at the ceiling and remained silent, no doubt playing the day’s encounter over in his mind’s eye. Gawain knew his words weren’t comforting, and in all honesty, he couldn’t have predicted that. Maybe at nineteen. Gawain doubted it, but maybe, just maybe. Moody ate a few mouthfuls and shook his head for no more.

“A sleeping draught.�

Gawain leaned over and read scribbled instructions on a clipboard. The potion ought to kick in any moment now, and, luckily, Moody wasn’t disturbed by another visitor. He looked up when the door opened and raised his head, telling Poppy that it was all right that Benjy took it upon his own invitation to step into the ward. Benjy conjured a chintz chair and crossed his legs, pretending to skim for an article.

Gawain scoffed. “Like you don’t know that thing front to back.�

“Spell check,� Benjy said, putting on his spectacles. He nodded at Moody, who turned away and rolled onto his side. He started whistling a familiar tune and waved Poppy over, throwing out a suggestion in a carrying whisper, “You need a wireless in here. Calms the nerves.�

“His mind’s a bit addled, you see, Benjy here thinks he’s a writer.� Gawain finally got her to smile. “An illusion, of course, and since he’s all renowned, it’s assumed all places should have a damn wireless.�

Benjy neither confirmed nor denied this,and they all laughed.

“They asked for me again, the Times.� Benjy watched a mop dancing around the floor with a bucket. He guided his fingers along the folded creases and wiped his hands on his trousers. When Gawain said nothing, he pressed on. “Lawrence, my uncle, was their best writer back in the day, you know, he’s the one who left me the typewriter and the books. Minerva says she’d take it.�

“Yeah, but she writes for academia,� Gawain pointed out. “We can’t string two words together without a nod or proposal, her and me. And she would say that.�

Benjy must have picked up on Gawain’s change of tone because he asked, “Why?�

Gawain shrugged his shoulders. He thought the answer had been obvious for years. Neither of his friends, fools, ever made a move because they were frightened that their relationship might change. Minerva masked her interest with pure curiosity, a tagalong.

“You never asked her.� Gawain got to his feet and lit a smoke, holding a hand over the flame. Poppy had slipped into an office and reported to her Healer, so they were quite alone. He know that Moody would be utterly embarrassed to find an Auror, a man he disliked, greeting him first thing in the morning. “She invited you to the Ministry to gain your approval. Forget the bet. She could care less.�

“What’re you talking about?� Benjy asked, lost.

“Minerva tells you what you want to hear.� Gawain shrugged and put a hand on his best friend’s shoulder. He didn’t sound angry. “Sure, she adds her lengthy bits here and there, and let’s face it, Benjamin, you were always a better chess player than me.�

Minerva had run down the alley to tell Gawain of her accomplishment, and he was proud of her. He couldn’t think of the words to express the pride he felt for her. Not Benjamin. No, he had been given a front row seat and enjoyed the show because he had been there through all the rehearsals. It was a small gesture, and Gawain knew in his heart that even Minerva might not have meant anything by it. Gawain walked through the doors and down the corridor. Deep down, he’d known the truth all along and chose not to do anything about it. It had been an easy choice, and Gawain, always the naïve gentleman, still waited for the game to start.

He lacked any defence.

Whatever happened between friends stayed between friends. Until, of course, they all woke up and realised they were all of three different minds. Usually, two of them branched off, splitting it right down the middle or leaving the third wheel behind. A gradual shift, it all went unnoticed. Gawain had shared stories about Benjy, with a guarantee that for the most part, it stayed off the record. The public filled their heads with speculation about the Ministry; the Daily Prophet fed them opinions through a surface reading.

The fiasco that had happened with Alastor Moody played out like this. Sure, that had been years ago, but they did things like this all of the time. Moody, or ‘Mad-Eye’ as many of them now referred to him, sported a glass eye and an artificial leg. Gawain had spilled his beans to his close friend. He’d given the whole truth, whatever that was supposed to mean. When it reached the papers, thanks to Benjy, it read like a Ministry hiccup. Goblins might as well have accidently placed gold in the wrong vault at Gringotts and tilted the scales.

Benjy enjoyed taking risks, stretching his talents to the limit. For years, he’d fooled folks by writing for both the Times and the Daily Prophet. His editors were in on it, of course, for that would have been a stupid mistake. He lived simply, too, in a two-bedroom flat. Bookshelves covered the walls and his writing desk was buried underneath papers and parchment rolls. An astray lay on the edge and the typewriter, his heirloom, clicked loudly as he worked on another article.

Gawain slipped inside to grab something to eat. He was surprised to see a young man with dark hair wearing dress robes. A girl dressed in a black gown stood in front of a rectangular mirror checked her reflection. She held her wand aloft and her hair changed from red to a darker shade of blonde. Benjy checked her appearance, nodded, and snapped his fingers, calling her over. He held a quill in between his teeth and zipped the back of her gown.

“Better,� said Benjy, distracted. “James, what’s the time?�

“Seven-thirty,� said James, checking his wristwatch.

“Ah, well,� Benjy sighed, resigned to another missed deadline. He turned back to his work, scribbled down notes, and got to his feet. He strode across the sitting room, found a jewellery box in his old Hogwarts trunk, and rapped the staircase banister with it. “Woman, are you finished yet?�

Nobody answered him. James sniggered. Minerva walked down the staircase, dressed in a set of red robes. Gawain smiled at her and shook his head. Her hair was tied back in its usual fashion.

“He’s dragging you along?� asked Gawain, raising his eyebrows. He stuck his hand into his pocket and found no cigarettes.

“Is this all right?� she asked the room at large. The girl, Lily, complimented her. James merely looked as though he was holding back a fit of laughter.
“Jesus.� Benjy opened the box, sifted through the jewels, and chose a red pendant. She spun around as he fastened it. It lay on her breast. “I tell you all the time: You look like a statue.�

“There’s a compliment in there somewhere,� said Gawain, shrugging his shoulders helplessly.

“The two of you ...� she said, pointing a finger between Gawain and Benjy. She held her tongue, rephrasing as James waited for an insult. “Take him.�

“I’ll pass.� Gawain felt his hands shaking. It’d been hours since his last smoke, and Benjy had none to spare. Gawain passed his hand over the mess, almost toppling over a burning taper. “None? You’re a disappointment.�

“Oh, now, we’re not friends anymore?� Benjy pulled a face and jerked his head. “Who’ve you got? Her? You should just walk into Azkaban now, my friend, it’s a long trek.�

“There’s food in the kitchen,� said Minerva. “He’s some cigarettes in the silverware drawer.�

“What? You’d fail miserably as a wife or a whore, shame,� said Benjy, shaking his head sadly.

“That’s better,� said Gawain, passing into the kitchen. He piled a plate with food and heard James and Lily laugh harder as Benjy earned punishment for his cheek. He fished a fork and cigarettes out of a drawer and leaned against the doorframe. “You’re pushing your luck, Benjy, you know that?�

“You ain’t got no sense, woman,� hissed Benjy, annoyed. Minerva pointed out his impeccable grammar did wonders for his pieces and handed him a travelling cloak and a red scarf when they reached the door.

Gawain had held his tongue for a long time. They’d been going off in secret for a while now, Minerva and Benjy. Benjy, who could have any middle-aged woman he wanted, probably younger if he’d managed to swing it right, did not randomly decide to escort a Hogwarts professor to a Daily Prophet gala. Minerva respected the press about as much as she respected the judicial system. That was a pity, really, seeing as she used to work for them. Gawain, a master at interrogation, had plied them both with questions. He got no answers.

These were confusing times. Gawain knew that they could not possibly be in league with You-Know-Who. Benjy, who had served in a Muggle war shortly after leaving Hogwarts, would rather die. He’d publicly said he’d rather slit his own throat than join ranks with the ones who called themselves the Death Eaters. Minerva, an undyingly faithful supporter to Dumbledore, wouldn’t dare let such ideologies cross her mind. Gawain knew that it was close to foolishness to trust anyone, but he knew in his heart this was the truth.

“Why can’t you just tell me?� asked Gawain, picking at his tender meat. It fell apart.

Minerva stared at him.

“You’re a bad liar,� Gawain said, glaring at her. He was not skilled in Legilimency. “Just say it.�

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,� she said, checking her watch.

“I’m standing right here. All you have to do is ask me. I’ll drop everything, I’ve got cases, but I’ll go, if that’s what’s frightening you.� Gawain glared at James and Lily, kids who looked fresh out of school. He gave a harsh laugh. “You don’t know what you’re doing, do you? That man – that – he is not some schoolboy! You’re all walking to your deaths! You want to know what he was like in school, kids?�

“Gawain,� Benjy whispered nervously.

“Stop it.� Minerva said firmly, catching her breath. Her hands were shaking. She ushered Lily and James forwards as Benjy fed them false identities, a convincing storyline. “We’ll be back. Get some rest.�

Lily and James said good night and James flashed him a grin.

“Don’t drink all my wine, a seeing as you’re a party of one, and if you touch my damn typewriter, Mad-Eye’ll see to it you have no hands,� said Benjy threateningly. They shook hands, Gawain’s twitched. “Happy New Year.�

Gawain watched them disappear, their travelling cloaks swishing around their ankles. Benjy had put his arm around Minerva’s shoulder and was undoubtedly reciting nonsense she needed to know about the editorial staff. Gawain chuckled, imagining a scandalous piece in the Daily Prophet the next morning about the Professor and their most talented writer. Feeling a chill and thinking about second helpings, he closed the door.

****

The rapping on the window woke him with a start. Gawain had no intended to stay the night. He had forgotten the hour and had fallen asleep reading through editions of both the Prophet and the Times. An opened wine bottle stood on top of the mess. With the articles by each other, some written on the same day giving different perspectives, it was easy to see that Benjy had painstakingly learned his audiences. One, written a few weeks ago, was a researched column of why schoolchildren saw, or thought they saw, zombies taking a night stroll. The other, a more reliable column, reported incidents of enchanted Inferi.

The noise continued.

“Why would you subscribe to your own paper?� asked Gawain.

He threw off the light blanket and sighed when cold coffee spilled over the papers on the table. He made it to the window, but there was no owl waiting for him. Without throwing out a security question, which, on second thought, sounded like a stupid question, he unhooked the bolt threw and the door open. James, Lily, Minerva and moody walked in. Moody’ s leg scraped the wooden floor and the three partygoers looked pale.

“Long night?� asked Gawain, smiling. When none of them said anything and tears welled in Lily’s eyes, he looked around. His voice was drained of emotion. “Where’s Benjy?�

James sat down on the couch with Lily and put his arm around her shoulder. Minerva sat on her other side and handed her a handkerchief. In her shock, Minerva looked as though she was beyond tears.

“He was right there,� she said softly, speaking to herself, a recitation, “and I turned around, ready to head back with him. I thought that he’d Splinched or – or something. I saw his arm in the road, and it snapped and –�

She couldn’t say anymore. Gawain glared at them all and run his hand through his dishevelled hair.

“Where is Benjamin Fenwick?� Gawain demanded. He spoke directly to Alastor Moody, no longer waiting for an explanation. “Get Scrimgeour out of bed now! Get Alice. She knows the archives, and Frank, he’ll – he’ll – why are you standing there? Move!�

Moody walked over to the fireplace, took a pinch of Floo Powder out of a clay pot, and disappeared into the emerald green flames.

“You idiot, you fucking idiot,� Gawain whispered, shaking his head. He paced the room, thinking this entire scenario over in his mind. Why hadn’t he downright insisted to join their escort? He left the window open for that possibility, not ruling anything out. “Say he Splinched. All right. So? That covers here to London. You were coming back here?�

Lily nodded, twirling a lock of her natural hair. She picked up the drenched mug.

“Yes,� she said, “but people usually don’t split themselves into different pieces, no more than two, right? I mean, you’re coming from here and you’re going here. Even if you’re undecided, your mind has to decide on a location.�

“What are you babbling on about?� Gawain demanded. He dismissed her; she was too young. “You don’t know enough to make that call. You’re jumping to conclusions!�

“She’s right,� said Minerva, pulling herself out of her coma state. “Even if that had happened, it wouldn’t explain why we found – we found – his ears and his tongue, and his – his liver.�

“Only pieces,� James cut in, sparing her the details. He saved all of them. It was of no use.

“This can’t go on any official record,� admitted Gawain, clearing his throat. Officially, they allowed a window of forty-eight hours before the dust had cleared. He looked at Minerva. She used to work within the Department of Magical Law, so, if she were thinking rationally, she’d see that. Gawain cleared his throat and said bracingly. “Something went wrong. People die all of the time, and this is why: we panic. It’s not him.�

“He wouldn’t have come back without Professor McGonagall,� said James. He knew nothing of it.

“You don’t even know each other,� said Gawain, close to laughter. “What? You think because this woman sat behind a desk marking papers for seven years of your life, you know her? Professors leave their classrooms and enjoy their summers, too, James. I looked at both of you. Neither you nor Lily knew she’d worked for the Ministry. Who’s Sampson Nettles?�

“He writes for the Times,� said Lily after a moment. She leafed through the damp papers and showed them an article on model trains. “He’s a freelance writer, he writes about trains around Christmastime. See? My dad likes him.�

“Very good.� Gawain nodded encouragingly, surprised. She didn’t understand. “You read our newspapers, too, I’m guessing? Who does his style remind you of? Perhaps I should have phrased it like this: Who was Sampson Nettles?�

“He mimicked a style?� asked James, confused.

“No!� Gawain slapped his forehead, wondering how long he’d stay detached before the truth hit him. Even if Benjy had survived, if he had indeed been sliced and diced, they had taken their time and dragged him away while the others had searched for the body. “Sometimes, wizards bled well anywhere and we take advantage of that.�

“Oh, my God.� Lily’s hand flew to her mouth.

James reached into his pocket and handed over a red lighter. Gawain turned the thing over in his hand and pressed it. A feeble flame ignited once, twice, thrice before it went out.