Head of Gringotts’ Curse Breaker Division, Geneva

Bill stared at the letter, not sure what to make of his reaction. Hope and resistance rose up in him all at once.

He had been staying with Charlie for a week now, taking a pit stop with the dragon keepers in Romania, hoping to get a little rest with his brother before returning to business. But he’d realized in just a week’s time that the idea of returning to business made him a bit sick to his stomach. He wasn’t ready to go back to Egypt.

Usually, Bill loved Egypt. He loved the heat and sand, loved the challenge and isolation that his job brought every so often, loved being on his own in the world and making his way in it. But circumstances lately made him pine to stay at home. His body was tired from war and his mind was, too – the idea of returning alone to his flat, and working in his office as though everything had gone back to normal... well, it just didn’t sit right.

But this temporary transfer to London would only prolong his return to Egypt, making it more difficult in the long run, and Bill wasn’t one for taking the easy way out of a hard road ahead. He rolled the letter up carefully and tapped it on his palm. If he didn’t accept the transfer, then he was scheduled to return to Gringotts of Egypt in the morning.

"C’mon, Bill, Dad’s waiting to speak to you." Charlie hollered.

Bill nodded. He could talk to his father about it right now. He dragged his feet into the front room of Charlie’s bungalow and stood before his father, roll of parchment in one hand, scratching his head with the other and yawning. "Hi, Dad."

"Bill." His father looked at him, a mixture of amusement and pride showing in his tired face. "It’s good to see you."

"You, too – what’s happening in London?"

At his simple question, his father’s face tightened. Arthur swallowed hard and Bill felt himself stiffen, slightly. His father looked almost... afraid.

"Did both of you see yesterday’s Prophet?"

Bill exhaled and nodded at Charlie. "Sure we did. Was that all factual? The Dementors really won’t act as guards anymore?"

Arthur shook his head gravely. "They won’t."

"You know, there has to be a way to destroy those things." Bill looked at Charlie. "What d’you think?"

Charlie shrugged. "Dunno. I’ve got a mean Patronus, but that’s it."

"Boys..."

Both Bill and Charlie turned to their father. His voice was quiet and defeated.

"It’s gotten worse."

The hair on the back of Bill’s neck stood up. "What d’you mean? What’s happened, Dad?"

"I..." Arthur paused, and drew breath. "It’s going to be in the papers today, and on the WWN in a few minutes but I wanted to..."

"Tell us." Charlie sat on the floor in front of the fire.

Bill crouched beside him. "Go on."

Arthur appeared to brace himself - only his head was visible in the fire, but Bill knew his father’s face so well that he could anticipate him somewhat. Whatever was coming next, it wasn’t good.

"Do either of you remember the name Ida Dunnes?"

Bill nodded immediately. "Auror in Dumbledore’s heyday, wasn’t she? Around the time Grindelwald was taken down."

Charlie turned to him, his face incredulous. "You remember everything you’ve ever read, don’t you?" he muttered.

Bill shrugged. Arthur continued. "She’s retired now, and living on Lewis Island in a town called Stornaway, about forty miles south of Azkaban. Very mixed town - high wizarding population in an area where there are a lot of Muggles. Though of course the Muggles don’t know it, for the most part. A lot of intermarriages in that area, though, which is... interesting..."

Arthur trailed off, his voice flat, and for the first time, Bill realized his father’s eyes were bloodshot. He exchanged a brief, worried glance with Charlie. Their father was nothing if not easily sidetracked by the meeting points of the Muggle and wizarding society, but today the subject seemed to be giving him no joy.

"Right, Dad, go on. What happened to Ida Dunnes?"

"Nothing." Arthur sighed and pressed his eyes shut. "Ida is alive and well. She was in her local pub last night when a few Muggles came in complaining of a sudden chill and saying it was a bit cold for July. Ida didn't think much of it, until her little grand nephew came running in from outside, pointing and looking frantic, going on about a Dementor down the road."

Bill felt his breath catch. "No," he muttered quickly. "No."

"Well, Ida took off at high speed in the direction her nephew was pointing, and came right across it. It was descending on a small boy outside the boy’s home."

"Is he –" Bill couldn’t bring himself to finish the question.

"The boy is fine. But his mother was destroyed. She’s soulless. She was lying at her son’s feet by the time Ida arrived, and Ida told us that the boy was sobbing. Too young to do anything else. Watched his mother get Kissed right there in front of him." Arthur’s face was very nearly gray.

Bill felt his bones go cold at the idea of such a sight. He remained crouched next to Charlie, but could think of nothing to say.

"I thought that Dementors... didn’t have the same effect on Muggles?" Charlie attempted weakly.

"Muggles can’t see them, though I’d reckon they could still get Kissed if they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. We don’t know. I don’t want to know. In any case, this woman was a witch. She was obviously caught unawares. Just playing with her son, not expecting..."

Arthur’s head gave a slow, miserable shake.

"Ida drove the thing back across the water to Moody, who’s now established a tally of sorts so that we know how many Dementors there are. We need to know right away if one gets loose. It’s just so damned difficult to count them – we think we’ve got them all, but how to be sure? Even if we do, they can’t be counted if they keep on hiding in the shadows. Not only that, but we’ve got to get those prisoners out of there. I knew it was bad, but this is far worse than I’d expected. They’re all in immediate mortal danger, where they are."

"Where will you put them?" Charlie asked at once.

"Damned if I know. Anywhere that they can’t get out. Which is nowhere that I know of."

"And where’s the boy?" Bill demanded.

"With his father. His father was indoors. He’s a Muggle. Blaming himself for not being outside to do anything about it – as if he could have." Arthur sighed. "It wasn’t his fault. As far as fault goes, you should be aware that his wife’s predicament will blamed on me in all the news. I just wanted you boys to hear it from me, first. Now I’ll need to go speak with –"

"Blamed on you!" Bill found his voice at once and shot to his feet in outrage. "I’d like to know why!"

Arthur gave a brief, unnatural laugh. "Because I’m here. Because it was my responsibility to keep those creatures out on the island. If we’d just known a day sooner - just a day sooner - that they weren’t going to stay put with the prisoners, then we could’ve had an eye out. But as it was, they didn’t get noticeably restless ‘til Friday and Moody didn’t establish a watch system until Friday night, and by then the thing must've already escaped. We’re just lucky it had to travel over water to get to Lewis. They travel more slowly over water. Otherwise it might’ve done much more damage, in a wizarding community of that size."

"This isn’t your fault," Bill averred, his teeth clenched. "You didn’t know and you’re doing what you can. I’m coming up there."

"Bill, now, that’s not why I –"

"I’m coming too." Charlie was on his feet. "And I’m bringing my team, Dad. I know they’ll want to give a hand."

Bill stared at his brother. "What? You’ll leave dragon keeping? You can’t be serious."

"It’s no more shocking than you leaving your curse breaking is it? And anyway, d’you think I’d pass up an opportunity to work for the Minister of Magic?" Charlie made a mock-bow to their father. "Not a chance."

Arthur shook his head swiftly. "No. Don’t get big ideas, boys. Somebody had to step in for Fudge and there wasn’t time for proper procedure after that strike on Diagon Alley last year. I’m just here when no one else wants to be, that’s all." He fixed Bill with a serious stare. "And I don’t want you feeling pressured to relocate. You’ve both got your jobs and we’ve all got to move on with our lives."

"I know." Bill toyed with the roll of parchment in his hands for a moment. "But Dad, if you don’t get help up there, then everybody’s getting to move along with their lives except for you." He held up the parchment. "This is from Gringotts. They want me to accept a temporary transfer to London. Effective immediately."

"But that’s brilliant!" Charlie cried at once, clapping Bill on the back so vigorously that he nearly sent him into the fire. "Are you serious? Oh, we’re definitely coming, Dad. We can take a flat in Diagon Alley, the two of us. And maybe Mick’ll be interested in coming along – and a couple of others from my staff would be great help, I know it. The apprentices’ll have to stay and train where they are, but I bet I could talk my assistant into coming back to England for at least a little while - "

"Crowd the flat all you like, but you can sleep on the couch," Bill jested, reaching around to rub his lower back, where it was a bit sore from having spent the week on Charlie’s sofa. "Dad, if you want us, then I’ll accept this transfer today. We can be there as soon as I get my new identification."

Their father clearly did want them; he was smiling, and it was the first time Bill had seen a real smile on his father’s face in quite some time.

"Are you sure you want to accept it, Bill?" Arthur asked, not quite managing to conceal the hope in his voice.

Bill weighed his options briefly. He could go back to Egypt and continue to live his life as it had been before the interruption of war. Or else he could go back to England and assist with the rebuilding of Diagon Alley, possibly giving some help and comfort to his father at the same time.

He met his father’s eyes and felt his decision come swiftly and clearly, bringing him comfort, too.

"Absolutely," Bill replied, smiling. "I’m coming, Dad."

Relief flooded Arthur’s expression as he turned his eyes on Charlie. "And are you -"

"Dad, I’m sure," Charlie interrupted, grinning.

"Well," Arthur said quietly, "since you’ve made up your minds, I don’t mind telling you I’m glad you’re coming. Both of you," he said, his voice a bit raw. "And your mother – well she’s going to love knowing that you’re both nearer home, for a while at least. She’ll be so happy when I tell her, it’ll be hard to keep her quiet."

"Well then don’t tell her!" said Charlie suddenly. "We’ll go home with you to the Burrow the day we get to London and surprise her!"

Bill was on it in a flash. "Only, do tell her you’re bringing home a couple of colleagues. That way she’ll be prepared, and not spend the whole time cooking when she’ll want to be fussing over us and telling me to cut my hair."

Arthur beamed at the two of them, his eyes now slightly wet. "You’re good boys," he said, in the same raw voice. "I’ll see you when you get here. I’ve got to get to Ron and Ginny at Remus's before they hear about this on the wireless. And I’ve got to get to the twins. And then –"

There was an abrupt pause. Bill knew that his father had been about to say Percy’s name. It was only natural, after all. There had always been seven of them.

"I’ve told Penelope already," Arthur finished quietly. "Talked to her when I spoke with your mother."

Bill nodded. "See you tomorrow, then, Dad."

"Good." His father’s face cheered, a little. "When you get here, come straight to the Ministry."

"To the Minister’s office?" Bill asked slyly, raising an eyebrow at Charlie, who grinned expectantly.

Their father chuckled. "All right. Yes, that’s where I am, say what you want to say about it. Just get here."

With a ‘pop’ Arthur was gone.

"Hard to believe, isn’t it?" Charlie asked, still grinning into the fire. "Our dad."

Bill laughed. He, too, was unused to the fact that his own father was in a position of such high authority. But even if Arthur made light of his situation, Bill knew he was the Minister of Magic. It made sense to Bill to know that the remaining Ministry officials answered to his father. They all trusted him after what he had done in the war. He had organized the Ministry from the inside for Dumbledore and then for Sirius, and he had made the way clear for the Order of the Phoenix to operate without interruption for as long as he could.

Of course, that hadn’t always won him approval; many people had been against the Order, during the war. Many had been advocates of Cornelius Fudge. But now that the war was over and the Order had proven instrumental in ending three years of strife, its naysayers were few and far between. Moreover, everyone knew that Arthur Weasley had been present at the moment of Voldemort’s defeat. Everyone knew what had happened to Lucius Malfoy. The fact that people were now looking to his father for their cues, Bill reflected, was only natural. His father had always been willing to do what others backed away from, and that was especially apparent now, as he headed up a Ministry in ruins.

"Dad was always right for it," Bill mused, "it’s just that he wasn’t ambitious like Fudge and the rest of them. And Mum was right, thinking that Fudge was prejudiced against Dad just because of his concern for Muggles..." Bill trailed off and hesitated before continuing. "You know, it’s probably wrong to say this, but we’re far better off without Fudge in there, now that everything’s got to be rebuilt. The Death Eaters weren’t doing themselves any favors when they got rid of him."

Charlie nodded in quiet reply. "Still, it’s not right what happened to him."

"No. I didn’t say it was."

Bill’s stomach still lurched when he remembered getting news of the Diagon Alley strike. Under pretense of agreeing with Fudge that peace talks were a necessity, Death Eaters had been admitted into the Ministry buildings. Many of those buildings now stood in shambles. Fudge had been murdered without ceremony, and his offices raided for information. The Diagon Alley post office had been entirely blown apart in an effort to slow wizarding communications, and many owls and people had died. And in that terrible chaos, the Death Eaters had managed to force their way into Gringotts – slaying goblins as they went. They’d broken apart the upper vaults with Dark magic, corrupting a magical protection system that would be ridiculously difficult to restore.

Bill sighed at the mere thought of what it must be like now, at Gringotts of London. Knowing goblins the way he did, he assumed he’d be in for a rough time of it in his new position. Goblins weren’t trustful creatures to begin with, and now that they’d been personally attacked, Bill imagined that they’d be positively murderous toward anyone new in their midst. The fact that he had worked for years at the Egypt branch of Gringotts wouldn’t mean a thing to the London goblins. In London he would be treated as a stranger and eyed with suspicion and contempt.

Still, he was going. There was no question. He was going to be whatever help he possibly could be to Gringotts - and to his father.

"Hey, Charlie," he asked suddenly, remembering what his father had said about the news, "where’s that wireless? I want to hear what they’re saying about Dad."

Using his feet, Charlie shoved aside an enormous pile of clothes to reveal a rickety little wizard’s wireless. He flicked his wand at it, and a small, badly received female voice buzzed from the hole in its center.

"... that Arthur Weasley, unofficial and apparently incompetent Minister of Magic claimed yesterday to have the Dementor problem well in hand. Be advised that this is not the case. Last night, retired Auror Ida Dunnes -"

"Idiots," Charlie muttered, giving his wand a violent flick and shutting down the wireless in mid-sentence. "I’m not listening to that. Write your goblins, Bill, and get your papers. We need to get to London."

"Right." Bill Summoned his parchment and quill, trying to ignore the anger he was experiencing on his father’s behalf for a moment, in order to be productive. "Go round up your team and see who’s coming with us."

As Charlie yanked on his robes, Bill began to scratch out his reply to Geneva. If he sent out this owl before noon, he’d have identification in the morning. They could leave for London tomorrow afternoon.

Though suddenly, tomorrow didn’t seem nearly soon enough.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04