–I bet you know,†she said to the cat as she reached over and opened Benjy’s nightstand drawer.
There was nothing there but quills, lighters, and cheap paperbacks. The front door opened. There were noises in the kitchen: a sizzling frying pan, knives on a cutting board, and things being tossed in the trash. Frustrated she couldn’t get up, Amelia rolled onto her side, snatching the blankets off the cat. Last Tuesday, fearing she’d miss a briefing in Mr. Crouch’s office and after spending a good amount of time trying to literally start her day, Amelia fell out of the bed, and Benjy, of course, had found this just downright hilarious.
–Benjy?†She waited five minutes.
Benjy walked through the doorway carrying a laden breakfast tray. He stood there with a smile on his face.
–I’m glad this amuses you, really,†she said, holding out her arm. He took his time setting the tray on the foot of the bed and petting the cat before he helped her out. Amelia dashed into the bathroom and left the door open in her hurry. Before she went back to bed, she pulled her house robe tight and pulled her hair into a loose ponytail. –I hate you.â€
Benjy helped himself to slice of bacon. –I love you. Made you breakfast.â€
She laughed softly, suspicious, her anger fading quickly. –Why’re you so happy? How was your meeting with Mr. Cuffe? That was today, wasn’t it?â€
–Oh, there’s this new pretty, blonde thing, a freelancer on the scene. She wouldn’t know a true story if it was handed to her, so she’ll get nowhere. I bet you anything they’re sleeping together.†He took a bite of scrambled eggs before he gestured to a rolled newspaper on the side and handed her the fork. Benjy made it a point not to subscribe to the Daily Prophet; he already criticized his writing in his head, for he was his greatest critic. It was an edition of the Times, one fresh off the press. –I thought that might interest you.â€
Amelia opened the paper and stopped when she spotted a photograph of his uncle, Charles Fenwick, sitting at his writing desk. –‘… recognized for his remarkable style …. Fenwick delivers the story with incredible flair whist clinging to the truth….’ They presented him with this reward last night? That’s a good photograph. What did you say? Oh.â€
–Say what?†Benjy pretended to be distracted with his wristwatch.
Amelia noticed the date on the paper and debated on how to approach this. She caught on to the breakfast and fingered the rose that had been entwined in the paper as a bookmark. –I forgot.â€
–So.†Benjy nodded as if he had expected this and finished off the coffee. After they had finished eating, he waved his wand over the tray and it disappeared. He pushed her back on the pillows and kissed her. –You’ve got nothing all morning? No court stuff? No docket? Nothing?â€
–Nothing.†She laughed when he pushed the cat off the pillow and buried his face in her neck. There was a knock on the door and a tap on the window. It happened again. She kissed him back. –Benjy.â€
–I know. Why don’t these people sleep in on the weekends?â€
He left the bedroom to answer the door, and the cat followed at his heels. Amelia managed to get out of bed this time and opened the window when she crossed the room. A large tawny owl took off in the sleet after she detached the envelope. It was addressed to Benjy. Amelia, although she felt as though she grasped at straws in the hopes of finding something, thought she recognized the narrow script. Curious, she went downstairs and opened the letter. She stopped, surprised when she saw Benjy whispering urgently to a thin man with jet black hair. He wore glasses and wore a jacket over a graphic t-shirt.
–-can’t be stupid. There’s stupid and there’s careless, boy, and you and Black are clearly stupid!†Benjy slammed the door and the locks clicked into place. He pointed at the man’s chest as the young man wiped the mess off his glasses. –Listen to me, boy, and you listen good because I’m saying this one more time. One mistake can cost us everything. You two taking a joy ride-â€
–It wasn’t like that,†said James, replacing his glasses.
–I’m surrounded by idiots,†said Benjy, frustrated they weren’t on the same page. –You’re going to kill us all. The Muggles saw you! It’s in the paper, boy.â€
–Yeah, but…†James thought about this. –Yeah, well, when you say it like that, it sounds really bad. Morning, ma’am.â€
–Morning, James,†said Amelia awkwardly. The man did a double take, surprised she had caught his name so quickly. She looked from this man to her husband. –Benjamin.â€
Benjy turned towards her, his face pale. He looked as though he’d been caught in the act and accidentally stepped on the cat’s tail. James caught the cat as it made to get out of dodge and scratched him behind his ears. Benjy cursed.
–You should be in bed,†said Benjy shortly. He snatched the letter from her, read it quickly, and set fire to it with the tip of his wand. Stiffly, he finally forced an introduction. –Amelia, this is James; he’s another freelancer for … for the Times. He works under Charles. James, this is my wife, Amelia. She works in the circuit as an attorney.â€
Amelia looked at James, taking in his jeans and t-shirt. He looked as though he’d just walked in off the street, honestly, which was her first clue. If she knew Charles Fenwick, that man never accepted just anyone in an internship; he looked too young to be a good freelancer. Even on a Saturday, no young man would be foolish enough to show up to work with Charles wearing anything less than a blazer and slacks. The t-shirt might have passed on the weekends, but James wouldn’t have made it through the door in these clothes.
She stared at the wand in Benjy’s hand. –Were you with Charles last night, James?â€
–Who’s Charles?†James grunted when Benjy treaded on his foot on his way to the kitchen. Benjy mumbled something about needing a drink. He slammed the door when he escaped there.
–He goes by another pseudonym, Mr. Fenwick.†Amelia raised an eyebrow. Perhaps Charles’s interns addressed him formally; she didn’t know, though she had no doubt Charles demanded perfection. James nodded slowly, glancing back towards the door. She dropped the fake kindness and offered him a seat, speaking a little louder. –You have no idea who I’m talking about, do you?â€
–No, ma’am,†said James, petting the cat, backing away from her.
–His pseudonym? It’s Isaiah Donovan - it’s his middle name and his mother’s maiden name. Not that you’d ever need to know that. You’re a wizard. You didn’t even flinch when he pulled out his wand. You’ve probably never even heard of the London Times?â€
James shook his head.
–It was nice meeting you, whoever you are. And I’m not angry with you. You’re a nice man. You might want to leave.†Amelia glared at Benjy when he backed into the sitting room and closed the door after James, thanking her and handing over the cat, left them alone. A sound of a revving engine filled the quiet neighborhood and died a few minutes later. –Liar.â€
Benjy set his glass on his writing desk, careful of the cat when it leapt onto the floor. He seemed to be playing scenarios through his mind and weighing the best possible outcomes. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and went back into the kitchen to fetch the bottle. After that, he returned to face her and drained the glass.
–He doesn’t even know Charles, you idiot!†Amelia waited for him to say something, anything, and his silence only made her angrier. She watched him take drink after drink. He stopped at seven, got unsteadily to his feet, and stopped at the stairs. –What is wrong with you? Just tell me.â€
–You don’t want to know,†he said. –Step aside.â€
–No.†She crossed her arms and stood her ground.
–Please?â€
–Benjamin, go sit down, or so help me God, I’ll walk down the street and phone every single one of your sisters.†She waited until he acted like a little boy caught red-handed who had been sentenced to go stand in the corner. He lay on the couch and curled up with a blanket and the cat. Amelia, weary from standing on her feet, sat in an armchair. –When you’re ready, Benjy.â€
–I’m tired,†he said.
–You’re drunk,†she corrected him, taking some yarn out of a nearby wicker basket and counting off stitches in her head as she crocheted a blanket.
–My sisters already sent you stuff,†said Benjy, reeling off is sisters names. –Carol, Karen, Sarah-â€
–Nancy.†She gave him the name of his eldest sister.
–Nancy.†He pointed a finger at the ceiling as if the name had just occurred to him. –You know what she told me?â€
–No. And I don’t care.†Amelia stared at him blankly. –Benjy, I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to be honest with me. Where were you last night?â€
–With you.†He stared at her, thinking this was obvious. –I feel really, really good right now. Kiss me.â€
–No. Benjy just answer the damn question!†After an hour passed, Amelia picked up his wand and pointed it at the fireplace. Flames erupted there. –I’ll leave you alone so you can sleep it off. Just tell me. I don’t care what happened. Really romantic touch to the anniversary, dear.â€
–You didn’t even know,†he reeled off in a singsong voice, still staring at the ceiling.
–Are you with her? That woman?†She threw the question out there.
It was a ridiculous accusation. Amelia didn’t even know this woman’s name, the blonde freelancer. Perhaps they had met before the meeting to share a private breakfast. His sisters, though Amelia felt foolish listening to them, for they were housewives of accountants, and green grocers, and university professors, had warned her that the romance waned when the child came along. Everything changed, they said. They rarely saw each other, she and Benjy, and those people who didn’t know them, like the landlord, assumed they were roommates, not a married couple. This child had been a careless mistake, a slip up during a passionate night between friends.
–Who? Rita Skeeter?†Benjy burst out laughing.
–Okay, no. This is why I don’t talk with anyone but Nancy. She’s sane.†She smiled, shaking off the idea. –It’s not that funny.â€
–No, wait. Wait.†He kept laughing, lost in his thoughts. –Nancy said … she said … she said when you have the child-you never wanted a child. No, no, listen, she said just hand it off to one of my sisters.â€
Amelia stared at him, shocked. The yarn slid out of the chair and rolled across the floor. The cat, oblivious to all of this, darted after his catch. Amelia gripped the arms of her chair and got to her feet. She went upstairs, pulled on a simple dress and grabbed her brother’s travelling cloak. As she braided her long hair with quick fingers, countless thoughts rushed through her head. Is this what his family really thought of her? She had always been rather fond of Nancy because she was a bookworm who had quit her accounting position after her third child came along. She went back downstairs, not looking at her husband.
–I’m going out for a walk,†she said, pulling the cloak over her shoulders.
–It’s freezing out there,†he said, subdued once more.
–I’ll be fine,†she said, slipping her wand into the inside pocket of her robes. He said something about going out later that evening. Her voice sounded falsely optimistic even to her ears. –Not a problem. Stay with one of your sisters.â€
–Amelia.†He looked at her with glassy eyes.
–We are not discussing this anymore, Benjamin, because I might physically hurt you. I don’t want to talk to you; I don’t want to see you. Get out of my house.â€
–Come on!†Benjy shifted on the couch. –This stuff? This irrational nonsense? This is exactly what I’m talking about. Sure, you’ll bend over backwards for Elphinestone Urquhart or Tiberius Ogden. He’s ancient! Me? I’ve waited years for you. And for what? You’re no mother. You-you’re a hardened, cold-hearted-â€
–I did this for you.â€
–No, you did this for yourself,†he cut in. –Let’s get that straight.â€
–Get out. Get out of my house!â€
Amelia slammed the door and headed down the street. With no idea where she was going, she walked in circles, but it hardly mattered. By late afternoon, she had stopped after passing the playground for the third time. Her anger had ebbed, and the pain went into her feet and her back. She waved at a little girl on a swing and sank into a bench. A young mother talked to her, and Amelia, exhausted, nodded through the conversation. She was a pretty, thin woman with long dark hair.
–This is your first one?†The woman’s strange laughter didn’t reach her eyes.
Amelia nodded. She didn’t know the people around her, and it all right with her if they assumed she was a workaholic. The woman pointed out her daughter, acting like this was completely random, the girl Amelia had noticed a while ago. This woman stared unblinkingly at her, which made Amelia feel uncomfortable. –She’s beautiful.â€
–Where do you live?â€
–Oh. Just over there. Number seven, Brighton Row.†Amelia waved in the direction and smiled as the little girl kicked off the ground. –She’s something. What’s her name?â€
–Caroline.†The woman held a book bag with the child’s name stitched into the back.
Amelia thought again of Benjy’s sister; she had a similar name and loved the beach. On her wedding day, Carol handpicked seashells for everyone in the wedding party, and Benjy, insisting he was one of the girls, had chased his sister through the sand after catching the bouquet. When the bit they had all day disappeared behind the clouds, the parents took their children home, promising they’d return the following day. Caroline resisted her mother, pulled at her arm, but she stopped when Amelia raised her hand in farewell. When they turned the corner, Caroline likely still putting up a fight, Amelia stretched out on the bench and closed her eyes.
Benjy did not come home that night. He did not come home the following week. A Ministry official launched an investigation, and Benjy’s sisters sent letters filled with empty words. Nobody knew anything. Thirty-seven days passed with no news, and whilst Amelia trudged on at work and momentarily forgot her panic, everything washed over her at home. On a cold Wednesday night, she tended to the fire and started a simple dinner.
She stared into the flames, lost in her thoughts over the last month. Disappearances happened all the time nowadays. Her husband lived a simple life; he worked for the paper. What could the Death Eaters possibly want with him? After a report got filed, she was called into the Ministry and questioned by Mad-Eye Moody and Frank Longbottom. It was routine, they had said, and her access to anything legal, anything at all, would be frozen until they closed the case. Amelia understood the procedure, of course, yet it still felt uncomfortable answering questions from the other side.
Mad-Eye Moody had questioned her again earlier that day. Amelia updated the research archives and handed her responsibilities off to other people. Forget the appointment; the Wizengamot had temporarily excused her from the bench. Mad-Eye’s request released her from tedious, dull work and unchained her from the desk. No, she hadn’t seen or heard from her husband since late November, the twenty-eighth. No, he wouldn’t have abandoned her. No, he would never leak secrets through the Daily Prophet and risk his career.
Her brother, Edgar, and his family had been found dead earlier that evening.
There was a knock on the door. The knives finished chopping vegetables and the cutting board tipped itself over the pot. Amelia washed her hands and turned her head when there was another knock on the door. She couldn’t pretend she wasn’t at home, although she stood quite still in the kitchen. After she tasted the broth, she set the spoon in a bowl and went to answer the door, wondering who would visit her this late at night.
–Who is it?†She wiped her hands on a dishtowel.
–I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am.†A woman shuffled her feet outside. –I need a ride home on the Knight Bus, but I haven’t any money.â€
Amelia placed her hand on the doorknob, yet she did not turn it. Something stopped her. There were voices outside the door; the woman was not alone. Amelia slipped her hand into the pocket of her house robe and grabbed her wand as a sudden fear swept over her. She lived in a quiet community surrounded by Muggles; this woman was a witch. Thinking fast, Amelia took a deep breath and forced herself not to panic. She could go to bed and the woman would leave her alone.
–It’s freezing,†said the woman, pleading for help. She sounded vaguely familiar.
–My husband.†Amelia spoke softly, scared out of her mind, and cleared her throat. She felt a little confident, though her voice shook. –I-I’m sorry. My husband’s just g-gone up to bed, and he works very late.â€
–You have no husband.†The woman spoke with a new harsh, ice-cold voice. –Your husband is dead, Amelia. Open the door.â€
Amelia stood there, frozen. She dropped her hand and hurried up the stairs. She rushed into the second bedroom, the office, and locked the door from the inside. Her desk, a large mahogany one, stood against the wall. Law books and reference texts filled two ceiling high bookcases. Benjy had stored the baby things in here: a dresser, a nightstand, a pram. They hadn’t yet gotten around to anything. She sat against the door, shivering, counting the time as she imagined horrible things.
–Please leave. Please leave. We’re fine-we’re just fine. Please.â€
She rested her hand on her belly and took slow, deep breaths. She’d sat through these trials and recorded the gruesome details. As the minutes passed, an image of a small blonde girl popped into her head. They’d dragged some man down a narrow street. The pot on the stove hissed and something splashed onto the floor. Amelia got on her hands and knees and crawled towards the bookcases, the furthest point in the room. The front door rattled. Slowly, the series of locks clicked one by one, and heavy footsteps climbed up the stairs.
–Madam Bones?†A man growled and pounded on the bedroom door.
Amelia, feeling paralyzed, didn’t move a muscle. –Help me.â€
The cat, perched atop one of the bookshelves, glowered at her with glowing eyes and hissed at the noises he heard outside the door. There was a loud bang and the door burst open. Mad-Eye and Elphinestone stood there with their wands outstretched. Mad-Eye stared at her moment, leaned heavily on his walking stick, and said something about searching the parameter. Elphinestone, ashen-faced, shrugged off his cloak and wrapped it around her.
–Are you all right?†He locked her in tight embrace. –When they searched your brother’s house…â€
–You really shouldn’t be alone,†said Mad-Eye, offering her a hand and helping her into the desk chair. He tapped the desk with his wand and a large rectangular mug appeared there. –Drink this.â€
Amelia cupped the mug in her hands and got enveloped the aroma; it reminded her of the holidays at her parents’ house. She looked at Mad-Eye, surprised. Although they both worked for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, they were basically strangers.
–How’d I know that?†He gave her a lopsided smile and shrugged it off. For a man most people openly feared, Mad-Eye had a kind side, it appeared, as he came off as unexpectedly consoling. –Your brother. We talked the other night over an investigation. He also said if you got a hankering, you’d like green olives.â€
–Thank you.†She sipped the tea and walked around the house whilst he searched the place. They had searched her house when Benjy had disappeared, too, and this occasion was no less unnerving. Visibly shaken, she told them about the strange woman at her door. Mad-Eye grimaced, swore under his breath, yet he offered no explanation when Elphinestone shook his head like a madman. –What is it?â€
–You’re not to be alone. I’m going to station Aurors at your place, maybe me, night and day.†Mad-Eye sounded businesslike, making it clear she had no choice in the matter. He took a small black chest from his cloak, ignoring Elphinestone as he objected, and waited for her to sit down on the couch. Elphinestone went to tidy up the kitchen, for he suddenly went pale. –I need to you something, madam, if you’ll allow me.â€
Amelia nodded, feeling a wave of fear the second time that night. As he pulled on some gloves, Mad-Eye explained he had received this box anonymously through the owl post earlier that day. He took a key from his pocket and opened the chest. An eye with a grey pupil revolved inside; all seven ligaments had been detached. There was a severed ear, a blackened hand, and a shattered clavicle. Looking as though he was waiting for her to put the pieces together, Mad-Eye reached in his pocket and pulled out a drawstring bag. Amelia opened her hand, transfixed, and stared at a scratched lighter, a typewriter ribbon, and a wedding band.
He died. On his birthday, her son died in her arms. After hours and hours of pain and relief, pain and relief followed by renewed pain, someone wrapped a grey creature in some blankets and handed it to her. Tired beyond tired, Amelia looked around her bedroom, confused, and counted the fingers and the toes. Elphinestone, who had no children of his own, had stayed by her side the whole time. Pulling up a chair, he dipped a washing cloth into a glass bowl and wiped her head.
She turned to her mentor, a trusted friend, a man who pointed her in the right direction. –What do I do?â€
–Nothing,†said Elphinestone wearily. He had explained it to her over and over again. A midwife had arrived at the house sometime after dawn, shortly after Amelia had begged for help. The midwife had said something about a stillbirth; it had passed weeks ago. –Let him go.â€
–I did something wrong. I killed him.†Amelia laid her head back on her pillows and blinked through her tears. She’d asked for the same person over and over again, screamed his name, yet he’d never appeared. –I want my husband. I-I can’t do this. Where is he?â€
–Amelia.†Elphinestone took a deep breath and nodded at the matron who appeared at the door. He stood, pressed his lips to her forehead, and whispered, –I’ll be back.â€
She nodded and he left. After he closed the door, she looked down at the bundle. The cat crept slowly from underneath the bed and leapt onto the comforter. Her hands shaking, Amelia reached out to scratch him behind the ears. She closed her eyes, imagining Benjy walking around the bedroom with a wailing, pink baby in his arms. Nervous, clueless, he would eventually calm it down. His uncle, Charles, would be sitting in the chair and fumbling with his camera. They would be talking incessantly, laughing, pulling writing in the conversation there somewhere, and letting her nod off to sleep.
This was how she had imagined this day.
–Amelia, Benjy’s sisters are downstairs,†said Elphinestone softly, opening the door a little. –They’ve spoken with the midwife.â€
–No.†Amelia gave him a flat answer. Elphinestone came back into the bedroom and closed the door. He looked a little hurt, as though he thought this was an unfair decision. –I-I can barely … it won’t help having them here. I can’t even think, Elphinestone, it hurts so much. Take him, please.â€
Elphinestone rushed back to her side and held the baby close to his chest. He walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains and watched the children in the street. –You want me to call Mr. Fenwick? Charles?â€
–Please.â€
Elphinestone walked over to Benjy’s nightstand, pulled out the tattered copy of Writing Well, flipped through its pages, and repeated the number over and over, locking it in his brain. He stopped at a dog-eared page, a marker, and handed it to Amelia. There was something scrawled in the margin in Benjy’s hand:
Amelia nodded. She’d noticed the note the week after Benjy left the house. The Ministry officials went through his things. When they had left, she didn’t place his things back on the writing desk.
–Charlie. That’s a strong name. Good name,†he said, walking over to the other side of the bed. He said nothing about the birth certificate or the death certificate, for which Amelia was grateful. He bent down so the baby lay right beside her. There was a thud on the staircase and the door opened. –Say good-bye.â€
–I’m so sorry. I love you, Charles.†She kissed the baby on the forehead and touched his tiny hand. Elphinestone left the room, bowing his head to Mad-Eye as he passed into the corridor. Amelia pulled a straight face and stared at the Auror with a blank expression. –Yes, sir?â€
–Firstly, ma’am, I’d like to say how sorry I am for your loss,†said Mad-Eye, taking off his porter’s cap. –You’ve had a very difficult couple of days. Williamson and Shacklebolt weren’t supposed to leave your side.â€
–I asked them to,†she said, putting the matter to rest, –if there are any disciplinary actions, I take full responsibility. Williamson refused. He has three children, and I wanted to hit him. They’re probably standing out in the cold.â€
–Guarding your bedroom door, madam,†said Williamson, pointing his head inside and bowing out as if he hadn’t said a word.
Mad-Eye slammed the door in his face. He cleared his throat and waded through an awkward silence. He’d clearly wanted to corner her alone. –We have Theodore Nott and Rodolphus Lestrange are in custody; tomorrow will be the third day of the trial. Nott has been formally stripped of his judging privileges.â€
Amelia stared at him.
–What I mean to say, ma’am, is that there is the matter of your testimony,†he said, shifting his weight on his mismatched feet. –Now, Elphinestone argues it’s too early…â€
–…and I don’t want to attend that trial.†She sighed heavily. –Don’t ask this of me.â€
–You are a justice of the court!†Mad-Eye stamped his good foot on the floor. –Is this not your duty? Madam, with all due respect, we’ve found your husband. There are people who won’t sleep till they die. Benjy made his choice. If you disrespect him … if you refuse to testify … if you refuse to testify and this murder gets swept under the rug and forgotten….â€
–He was my husband. Can’t you understand that? I can’t bury him because you need to preserve the evidence though trial.†Amelia met his gaze. –This was no ordinary murder. They hunted him; they cornered them like an animal- an animal! They butchered him and they sent him through the post. I don’t- that’s sadistic. I don’t sleep at night.â€
–I know,†said Mad-Eye, not bothering to remind her he’d received the locked chest. He sat on the edge of her bed. –Williamson sleeps in the corridor, right outside your door, because you wake up screaming. You can’t even walk down the street alone. They tell me everything.â€
–I have nothing,†she said, not meeting his eyes.
–What about you?†Mad-Eye took her hands into his gnarled ones. –Let me put these bastards in Azkaban, and I will personally make sure nobody touches you ever again. You have nothing to fear. Hell, Williamson was threatening to kill your midwife because you were in so much pain. He’s only known you for a few weeks. You accepted this appointment for the right reasons. They cannot touch you. You got that? I know what you’re going through. They haven’t heard a damn thing.â€
Amelia stared at their hands.
–We’ve got about an hour or so,†said Mad-Eye, checking the time. –You have a choice. You can speak or you can choose silence. What’s your decision?â€