Chapter Text
Chapter 6: A Special Visitor
Hogwarts, Headmaster’s Office, November 5th 1981 4:29pm
Albus Dumbledore slowly paced the length of his office as he tried to get his thoughts in order. He was expecting a special visitor, someone who would help him turn the tide and take advantage of such a troublesome situation.
He told himself he wasn’t anxious but the way he was sucking furiously on a lemon drop while twisting his rings around his fingers said otherwise. The last time he had seen this person was a few, short years after he became Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a little over twelve years ago.
At the sound of someone arriving by floo, Albus straightened up, all traces of nervousness in his body language gone; replaced instead by a composed demeanor.
An elderly man stepped out of the green flames of the fireplace, his expression stern and severe as he glanced around the room before settling his gaze upon Albus. “Is there a reason you have requested my presence Albus? I am a very busy man.” He spoke curtly without prelude.
The man hadn’t so much as attempted any pleasantries toward an old friend he hadn’t seen for so long, a fact which didn’t faze Albus as he was familiar with the man’s abrasive attitude. Instead, he simply gestured towards the little seating area he’d conjured up just for their meeting. “Please, have a seat. This is a conversation one should have whilst comfortable.”
The man hesitated and stared at Albus for a few moments, quietly contemplating whether to accept his offer.
“Alright, make this quick. I’ve got my hands full enough as it is. The dim-witted woman I work for pushed her responsibilities onto me just so she could ‘spend some quality time’ with her fruit of a husband.” The man complained; his tone bitter and derisive as he settled onto the couch across from the Headmaster.
Albus smiled – somewhat condescendingly – with his blue eyes twinkling as he spoke. “Quite harsh of you dear friend, such insults are unbecoming. Plus, if I recall correctly, you had no problems with a certain ‘fruit’ some years back.”
Erasmus Graeme narrowed his eyes at Albus. “Just what are you implying Albus?”
Albus flicked a finger towards the tea set perched on a nearby table, the tea set floated into the air and landed gently on the coffee table in front of him. He took his time fixing them both a cup of tea according to their preferences before finally answering Graeme.
“You seem to have forgotten, dear Erasmus, that you and I have quite the history. I advise you refrain from calling people fruits; after all, you do have quite a few skeletons in your closet.” Albus smiled discreetly.
Graeme was rendered speechless for a few moments, his mouth opened and closed as he tried to form a counter argument. “I’m certain you haven’t demanded my presence simply to reminisce about our...torrid past. Those years are long gone.”
Albus sat forward in his seat. “You are correct my dear friend. I will admit needing assistance but first, I would love to hear how you’ve been faring. I know this week has been difficult for you; what with the Lycanthrope attack a few days back.”
Graeme paused as he was bringing his cup toward his lips; he frowned at the man across from him. “Albus,” he said, a warning tone to his voice, “if this is an attempt to dissuade me from sending that Lycanthrope to Azkaban-”
“Nothing of the sort, Erasmus.” Albus interrupted. “I was merely hoping you would speak to a reporter, regarding events that transpired that night.” Albus reassured.
“Pardon me Albus but I do not understand what that has to do with you.” Graeme replied. He felt confused as to where the headmaster was going with the conversation.
Albus fixed Graeme with a thoughtful look. “I have it on good authority that the Wizengamot will overrule your decision to have the Lycanthrope committed, as you have yet to build a strong case against him.”
Graeme’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why are you telling me this? You do not owe me any favours.”
“Perhaps, but we do share a common goal, Erasmus. We want to keep our world safe by any means necessary.” Albus knew that he and Graeme had differing views but right now he was willing to say or do anything if it was for the greater good.
Graeme shook his head with a chuckle. “I know you Albus, you’re always up to something. That grandfatherly schtick doesn’t fool me for a second. You’re a far dangerous man than you seem at first glance.” He held Albus’ gaze for a few seconds before continuing. “Why are you really trying to help me, and this time don’t insult my intelligence by lying to me.”
Albus was quiet for several moments as he fixed himself another cup of tea. “Erasmus, I will be honest with you, but you must promise never to reveal what I am about to divulge.”
“You have my word, Albus.”
The headmaster nibbled on some hobnobs as he took a moment to compose what he was going to tell Graeme that wouldn’t raise suspicion in the other man. “I’m sure you’ve heard of James and Lily Potter.” He started casually as he wiped biscuit crumbs off his beard.
“Of course, I’ve heard of young James. He’s part of your little vigilante group I believe.” Graeme finished off his cup of tea before continuing. “He is also quite a formidable wizard. I’ve personally seen him bring down men twice his size.”
James and his little group had been a force to be reckoned with during the war, going directly up against the Dark Lord several times and living to tell the tale.
Though Graeme had no idea what the Potters had to do with the current conversation, he was sure Albus was going to explain.
After all, nothing ever was straightforward with the Headmaster.
The Headmaster nodded gently as he spoke in a sombre tone. “It is true. James was a good man; a little immature, hard-headed and somewhat arrogant but his heart was in the right place. He will be missed dearly.”
Albus could see the confused expression on Graeme’s face so he continued, taking care to choose the correct words. “James and Lily Potter were found dead a few days ago. It was a murder-suicide. It seems young James was having an extramarital affair and Lily found out.” Whether or not this was the truth mattered little to Albus, so long as he gets results, it was good enough for him.
“I’m sorry for your loss Albus, I truly am. I know James was one of your favourite students, but I still do not know what this has to do with me.”
Albus heaved a heavy sigh. “I do not want the memory of the Potters to be tarnished, which it will be if the public finds out the truth of their demise.” Here he pauses to make eye contact with Graeme. “Erasmus, I need you to tell the reporter that they were killed by the Lycanthrope; it will give you a strong case against the creature and ensure the approval of an Azkaban sentence.”
Graeme needed very little time to think it over. “You’ve got yourself a deal Albus.”
Albus beamed. “Great, I knew I could count on you. Therefore, I took the liberty to arrange an appointment with a young, up-and-coming-reporter. She is eager to get a promotion and as such, willing to write whatever it is we tell her without checking the facts. She should be arriving in the next few minutes.”
Graeme eyed Albus with something akin to lust. “You are a dangerous man Albus Dumbledore.”
“Whatever gave you that idea Erasmus? I am but a simply elderly Headmaster who only wants what’s best for his students.” Albus said innocently as he smiled at Graeme, he certainly didn’t miss the look the other man had given him moments ago.
The sound of the floo flaring to life filled the room before anything else could be said.
A young, blonde woman stepped out of the fireplace and spelled the soot off her professional, albeit slightly threadbare, clothing.
“Good morning gentlemen, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Rita Skeeter.”
Leaky Cauldron, November 6th 1981 8:25am
“Have you seen this?” Deighton startled awake and looked up as Pinkerton approached him with a copy of the Daily Prophet clutched tightly in his hands. The small blonde then slid into the seat across from the redhead without waiting for an invitation.
“Oh! Pinkerton, why...I mean, hi.” Deighton answered, surprised to see Pinkerton at the Leaky Cauldron and even more surprised to see him in casual muggle clothing. Deighton’s cheeks pinked as he couldn’t help but think of how endearing Pinkerton looked in the pale blue, oversized, turtleneck sweater, light wash jeans and a well-loved pair of Chuck Taylor converse.
“Yeah. Hi. Have you seen this?” Pinkerton repeated as he thrust the Daily Prophet under Deighton’s nose, nearly tipping over the man’s neglected drink in the process.
The redhead man smiled sheepishly, “Well I haven’t gotten a chance to read the morning paper; Graeme put me on the graveyard shift, I wasn’t even prepared for it. I think he did it on purpose because I laughed at him but honestly it’s not my fault he was being- “
“-I really do not care Deighton, just read the bloody paper.” Pinkerton interrupted Deighton’s ramblings and waited impatiently for him to read the article.
Deighton pouted at Pinkerton’s stroppy mood before taking the paper from him.
The redhead’s frown deepened the more he read. “W-what? That’s not true! Vendetta isn’t responsible for any of these.” He looked up in shock at Pinkerton. “It even accuses her of being a creature!”
Pinkerton nodded, his blonde curls falling over his eyes. “I know, it’s absurd. The article is full of lies. I can only imagine what Vendetta must be feeling right now”.
Maison de Létourneau, November 6th 1981 8:25am
“AARON!” Vendetta called urgently down to her husband.
Aaron had been in his potions lab in the basement, immersed in his research.
The focus of his current research were the Longbottoms, he had also been reading up on everything he could find regarding the Cruciatus Curse in correlation with insanity.
Aaron’s footfalls filled the room as he rushed up the stairs, barely shutting the door to his potions lab in his haste.
“W-wh-” He attempted to speak but was only capable of wheezing. “W-where’s the fire? What happened?” He asked in-between pants; chest heaving and his hands on his knees as he tried to regain his breath. “Wow, I am terribly unfit.”
“Théron spoke! He said my name! C'était incroyable!” Vendetta replied excitedly as she bounced Théron in her arms.
Aaron couldn’t even find it in himself to be annoyed at Vendetta for nearly giving him a heart-attack or worse, a side stitch. “Darling, I know you are excited but Théron has yet to speak even one word since you brought him home. Are you sure it’s not just the usual baby babble?”
“Non.” Vendetta replied stubbornly. “Go on mon chéri, say ‘Vendetta’.” She prompted the baby.
Théron blinked, looking from Aaron to Vendetta as he slipped two fingers in his mouth to gnaw on them. “Dedda.” He said.
Aaron squealed. “You’re such a smart baby!” He took Théron from Vendetta when the baby had nearly fallen out of her hold to latch onto him.
“Ma.”
It was almost funny how a basic, simple word spoken by a toddler could cause such resounding silence. Both husband and wife looked at each other in confusion. “Did he just…” Aaron trailed off.
“I believe he did.” Vendetta answered, not sure how she should be feeling.
Aaron looked from the little boy to Vendetta. “Maybe he was talking to you.” He reasoned.
Théron rested his head on Aaron’s chest. “Ma.” He muttered again. Aaron felt his heart swell with love, it hadn’t been a fluke; Théron truly accepted him as his parent.
“Perhaps you remind him of his mother.” Vendetta said. She didn’t want to feel jealous; after all, their priority was Théron’s happiness, but it did sting a little that her son prefers her husband. From the very first day that she brought Théron home, he had taken a liking to him.
It wasn’t that Théron disliked her, but he had just always preferred being with Aaron. At night, whenever he wakes up screaming – possibly from a nightmare – he only seeks comfort from Aaron.
“Théron, that’s mummy. I’m daddy.” Aaron spoke to Théron softly as he bounced him gently in his arms. The little boy simply shook his head. “No. Ma.” He said stubbornly, trying to convey – with his limited vocabulary – his thoughts on the current topic.
Vendetta sighed. “C'est bon, do not confuse him. Let him refer to us however he wishes.”
Aaron looked up at his wife. “Are you sure? I don’t mind but if it will hurt your feelings, we can keep trying to correct him.”
“No, I do not mind mon cher. It is cute.” Vendetta gave them a genuine smile. “Now, let us have breakfast, I had Jacque-Jacque make something special.” She gave Aaron a chaste kiss and Théron as well when he demanded one, before leading them to the dining room where the house elf had served an extravagant breakfast.
Two hours Later
“Where’s my little man, where is he? I don’t see him.” Aaron cooed at Théron. He was sitting on the living room floor, surrounded by colourful toys both muggle and magical. Théron was on his lap looking up at him as they played peek-a-boo.
Aaron was pretending Théron was invisible as the little boy covered his own eyes. “There he is!” Aaron gasped exaggeratedly when Théron removed his hands from his eyes, the little boy giggled so hard he nearly fell over.
They had been playing this game for over twenty minutes and Théron never once got bored of it. Aaron was just thankful Doménique was able to sleep through Théron’s laughter.
The tiny baby was sleeping in his bassinet next to Aaron. As he was born extremely preterm, Doménique needed even more sleep than the average new-born.
The only reason the baby wasn’t still in an incubator at the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at St. Mungos was because of Aaron. As a Head Healer, he was more than capable of maintaining the protection and monitoring spells that were currently active on the baby.
Aaron and the children were the only ones in the house. Vendetta had left, rather abruptly, during breakfast. She said she had decided to go into work as it was the perfect excuse for her to sneak Théron’s birth certificate into the Room of Records.
Doménique whimpered in his bassinet and Aaron turned towards him, trying to find the source of his discomfort.
“What’s wrong with my widdle Prince? Come here my love.” Aaron gently lifted the tiny baby out of the bassinet and into his arms. “I bet you were bored in there all by yourself, you want to play with me and your big brother, don’t you?” He cooed at Doménique.
Aaron was grateful Vendetta wasn’t home, simply because there was little else she found more annoying than Aaron’s baby talk. In her opinion, he uses it excessively. It was like a reflex; every time he’s around the kids he automatically switches to baby talk and coos at everything.
He could smell the reason for the baby’s discomfort as soon as he picked him up. “You need a change, don’t you sweetheart?” He soothed the fussy infant before calling for the house elf.
“Jacque-Jacque could you please keep an eye on Théron, I need to change the baby.” Aaron said. He also politely refused the elf’s offer of changing the baby.
Both he and Vendetta agreed that they would raise their children without the help of house elves, simply because they didn’t want to foist the more unpleasant tasks that came with being a parent onto the poor elves.
Aaron took the baby up into the nursery, mentally preparing himself to deal with an unhappy baby; Doménique hated being changed and was very vocal about his displeasure.
Pinkerton flooed into the Létourneau residence; he needed to have a discussion with Vendetta regarding the article in the Daily Prophet. They needed to come up with the next course of action and do some major damage control.
However, the scene that he met was not one he had been expecting.
A house elf was repeatedly pulling on his own ears and banging his head against the floor while Aaron was screaming angrily at him. Doménique was wailing in his bassinet, no doubt picking up on the hostile environment.
As Aaron rushed over to Pinkerton, the blonde could see that the man was crying.
“What happened?” Pinkerton asked, he could feel worry and panic rising within him.
“Carmen,” Aaron sobbed. “Théron is missing.”