One summer, almost eleven years since Reginald's singular screaming episode, the old man returned to find Reginald glowering at his arm as if it had personally offended him.
"And so it begins," he said when the old man cast a shadow over him.
"Indeed."
"It was worse a few days ago, you know."
"I know.
Ah, so he still has his informant. Good. He will make use of him soon.
Reginald looked up to see the old man mostly unchanged, if a bit older. Well, we're all a bit older now . . .
"And the others – do they know?"
"No. There's nothing to tell them . . . not yet."
"But you can tell me."
"I can," the old man conceded – and he did.
As it turned out, it was two years before they got another visitor. A much-anticipated international sports event was taking place, and arrangements were made for the children to attend – disguised and under heavy guard, of course. The adults could not attend, but clandestine arrangements were made for them to be able to observe from afar, using an experimental combination of an Omniocular and the Wizarding Wireless Network. The success of it, and the subsequent viewing of the event, caused a great deal of giddy excitement to the otherwise exiled spectators.
However, the rest of the year and the first half of the next one found Reginald becoming increasingly irritable and withdrawn, to the point where he'd ensure dinner was prepared for the group the days he was scheduled to prepare it, but nobody caught even a glimpse of him otherwise. The group began to get alarmed, as any time they went to his house other than for scheduled visits, the house appeared to be deserted, and he never answered the door.
A few weeks before Mary Anne and Joe's two youngest were due to come home from school (the eldest had taken a position in Romania under an assumed name and a specially prepared disguise), the adults were having a subdued dinner at Reginald's. Geoff had long since given up trying to entice Reginald to a game of chess, and everyone was conversing quietly amongst themselves as Reginald went to prepare drinks. He'd just loaded the tray with the glasses and was walking back toward his guests when he hissed loudly and collapsed onto the floor in a ball, sending various liquids flying every which way.
"Damn, damn, damn!" he could be heard muttering under his breath.
Geoff and Frank shared a knowing look and rose to clean the mess. "We're going to have company again soon, aren't we?" Frank asked Reginald quietly enough so that the others, who were looking on with alarm, couldn't hear.
" . . . Yeah . . . " Reginald gasped in reply.
"Your, ah, 'grandfather'?"
"Probably."
The twins sighed and helped him up.
Sure enough, about three weeks later, the old man showed up again. But when he went to Reginald's house, the man was not there. The old man had a moment of terror, wondering if his grandson had run off to reunite himself with old friends, when he noticed a black snake, clearly out of place for these parts, basking in the sun.
On a chair.
"Ah, I should have known you'd have done something with your time, Reginald. I'm quite impressed." His blue eyes twinkled with approval.
The snake tilted its head at the old man and, in a moment, was replaced with the lanky form of Reginald Browne. "It's not safe for me," he said by way of explanation. "Although I'm not entirely sure I could hold him off that way, either – he's a Parselmouth, you know."
"I know. So, you know, then."
"I am not stupid. It's a pretty unique call, you know," he said. The weary and defeated tone of his voice belied the scorn inherent in the message.
"Severus returned – although he was in hospital for several days."
Reginald winced in sympathetic horror, but turned his attention to things in his immediate sphere of influence. "I think Frank and Geoff know. About me."
"They suspect – strongly. But you needn't worry on that account. They have a great deal of respect for you and understand that you were under some undue pressure. Oh. By the way – you were correct about your brother."
Reginald's eyes flickered to the old man at this. "He's back at home, now, trying to get the place habitable. It's fallen into some disrepair."
"Hm. I'm sure he's thrilled about that," Reginald said with a roll of his eyes. "Too bad you can't tell him I never lost faith."
"Indeed it is. Of course, his name hasn't been cleared – our illustrious government officials are also categorically denying what you yourself know."
"They're idiots," he said, and then with no real rancor added quietly, "you know . . . that was part of the original motivation."
"Some things never change."
Reginald shook his head sadly and then paused for a long moment while the old man waited expectantly as if he knew the younger man wanted to speak.
"Should we . . . get wands?"
"Wandless only, and only that which is not detectable by the Ministry."
"That doesn't give us much means to defend ourselves!" he snapped. "Ministry be damned, if we're traced here, what the government is going to think is the least of my concerns!"
"I don't believe you will be traced here. Only two of us know you are here, and neither one of us is about to say anything. In any case, I believe your old – ah, mentor – has other things on his mind and doesn't appear to have any interest in chasing down those he believes to be dead."
In reply, Reginald disappeared, to be replaced with a hissing black snake.
A year later, the old man showed up again, but briefly, to tell them collectively that the government had undergone some "restructuring", and that what they'd known for the last year was finally accepted. During this meeting, Reginald flinched and hissed, then apologised to all assembled, but he knew better than to ask someone to cast the counter for the affliction he suffered. Such a thing could be useful, after all, in the event anyone important showed up missing. Besides, they'd all grown used to it.
At the end of the meeting, the old man took Reginald aside privately to deliver some bad personal news.
A mere six months passed before the old man came back in the dark of night.
"What the hell happened to you!?" Reginald squeaked when he saw his grandfather's injury.
"Ah, yes, that. A long story, and actually what I came to talk to you about."
The rest of the night passed in quiet conversation before the old man rose to leave.
"Oh. Ah – one more thing," he said, looking troubled. "There's been a . . . complication."
Reginald blanched.
"No, no – not that kind of complication. Neither you or yours are in danger. It's just that you . . . um . . . are not likely to see me again."
"What? Why?"
"There's been a price put on my head."
"There's always been a price on your head!" Reginald said dismissively, waving it off.
"This is different. Things – well – things got quite bad – and, well – promises had to be made." He held a hand up to forestall the coming protest. "I am at peace with this, and it is a sacrifice I am willing to make. But please, know and understand this – nothing is done without my consent. I have lived a long time, my dear boy. Life is a grand adventure, and death is yet another adventure unto itself. My familiar has been instructed to deliver messages to you when the time comes."
Reginald gaped at the old man as he left, humming happily to himself with a twinkle in his eyes.
A few months later, in the early pre-dawn light, an unusual bird with crimson and gold plumage flew down the street with a cylinder of some sort clasped in its feet. Making its way to the house at the end of the street, it found an entrance which hadn't previously existed and flew through it.
It dropped the cylinder, which promptly unrolled into a special edition of a newspaper, on a bed upon which a black-haired man slept. Startled by the rustling noise, the man woke up and glanced about.
His eyes flew open in alarm when he saw the bird, and when his gaze alighted on the paper, he grabbed it only long enough to see the front cover.
"Nooooooooo!" Every house on the street was woken by the anguished wail. It was the last time they heard from him for weeks.
They knew why when a Muggle newspaper was delivered, reporting that the principal of a magnet school in Scotland had been pushed off the top of the school during an argument with one of his department heads. An incredibly unflattering description of the fugitive was included, with a strong warning that he was known to be armed and extremely dangerous.
"Oh, dear," said Bertram.
"Indeed," Curtis replied.