It was with trembling hands this picture joined the first, and with trembling hands he grasped the fiendish bit of twisted brass and glass that had stripped everything away from him. Bits of sand threatened to escape through his fingers as the sharp edges of the thrice-damned device bore into his palms. With a silent rage for all the years that should have been lived by so many, the man they call Lichfield flung the diabolical device as hard as he could, not caring where it landed. It would make its way back to its proper place, just as the pictures would right themselves. There was only so much work for the little elf to do.
He stalked into the tiny bathroom to splash himself with water and try to calm himself down. Rage and distress caused problems when your body was as withered as his was, and he couldn't die just yet. Lichfield sighed as he toweled himself dry. He knew what had gotten him into this funk. It wasn't the boy, it wasn't all the references to Charlus, it was the Trace.
They had stood in line together, he and the girl, the day the Ministry man came to Hogwarts to give them a 'standard health screening.' A health screening so good at its job they had never done it before or since. It was only later, once he had joined the Ministry himself, he had learned what it really was. What a day that turned out to be; asked out the girl he fancied, she said yes, then they spent the rest of the day grinning like idiots while waiting in line so they could be tagged and tracked by the government.
To this day, nearly forty years later, he still sometimes saw her in his dreams the way she was then; her shy smile, her dark hair and dark eyes were always mesmerizing. If he couldn't even look at Mipsy without seeing the ghost of the child they never had staring back at him he knew tonight would be one of those nights. She had nothing to do with the Potters, even less with their boy's young boy, yet he had raised her up out of her grave as surely as he was one of the Three Brothers himself. And all he did was mention the Trace.
'And the land,' Lichfield thought. 'Returning the people Gropegold had run off the land .' A noble idea, and one Charlus would've supported, but what was left on the land for him? An old house that was home to more memories and more ghosts than the boy could ever conjure with the Stone itself, and a pair of old graves - one filled, one still waiting.
'That's the only reason I have to return to the land,' Lichfield thought. He'd have to tell Barchoke about it, for when the time came. He only hoped there was time enough left in him. He was so much older than his sixty two years. He looked and felt almost twice that. There had to be time. Time for one last service for the Potters, for Charlus. She would have to wait a little while longer. The boy had to reach thirteen.
'Eyes ahead,' Lester reminded himself, 'not behind .' He was no longer a kid, and 'as dumb as a door' no longer, or so he hoped. He had the thing to do, and he was going to do it, and he was going to do it right.
The boy. The house. The secrecy, and the Secrecy. What was it Barchoke said? The depth of secrecy he hadn't seen since You-Know-Who. With the old man planning things out, with him being as intelligent as he was supposed to be, he'd want to have someone stationed near that house, just to keep an eye on things. A witch or wizard's out because the old man wouldn't want their magic to alert the Ministry. But how to do it without breaking Secrecy?
Lester knew what he would do if it were him. He'd get a squib. Most children of magical families left the magical world behind once they know there's nothing there for them. They could never inherit and most were disowned when it became obvious. Most feel like they never truly belong, being unable to do magic themselves. Some squibs though, some cling to the periphery of the magical world, coming up with some way to still remain a part of a world with no place for them. Owl keepers, farmers, animal breeders, there are loads of jobs wizards would never even think to do that squibs would suddenly find useful to make money from.
'He might be using one of those,' Lester thought. 'If nothing came up in the dealings of the Potter account I'll have to make sure and check the records for any businesses registered in Little Whinging near this Privet Drive .' Once Dumbledore showed himself at Gringotts, he'd be free to go after his eyes and ears, he'll squeeze them until they popped, and then he'd have everything he needed to drag the old man's name into the mud where it belonged.
Dumbledore might've been a great man once, and one of his favorite teachers, but he had one last service to do. For Charlus.
.....
Want to read ahead. Then Join my Pa*treon 60+ exclusive chapters that are waiting for you.
Even Free members can enjoy 2+ advanced chapters FOR FREE.
Link: pa*treon.com/Lotus_Lover (Remove the *)
Join Right Now