Theodore stepped off the Knight Bus and gave his surroundings a furtive glance, trying not to look suspicious. It seemed that every curtained window was hiding Death Eater spies, ready to kill him the instant they knew he was there. This was absurd, of course; the suburb of Perivale was probably one the most un-wizardly places in Britain. All the same, Theodore couldn’t help pulling his robes up to partially hide his face as he scanned the house numbers.
Number Seven was a neat white house exactly like all the other neat white houses on Aldred Drive, at least at first glance. Upon closer examination, Theodore noticed that the grass in front of Number Seven was slightly more untidy, and the flowers on either side of the door had been violently uprooted. A small wooden sign nailed to the door read simply, If you’re trying to kill me, go away.
Theodore took another look at the surrounding houses, which cast eerie shadows in the early evening light, then knocked on the door with as much confidence as he could muster. There was a loud crash from inside, then the sound of someone shouting.
“Dammit, Merc, watch where you’re sleeping! I’m coming, just a minute!”
A cat inside the house meowed, and there was a loud thud, as if someone had run into a wall. The door opened just enough to let the tip of a wand poke out. “Who’s there?” the owner of the wand demanded. “What do you want?”
“Xavier Ward?” The voice answered in the affirmative. “I’m Theodore Nott…your nephew? I was wondering if I could talk with you.”
“Nott?” the voice growled. Theodore got the distinct impression that his uncle”assuming it was his uncle”wasn’t fond of the name. “Pull out your wand and put it down on the step. Nice and slow.”
Theodore did as he was told.
“Now, what do you want?”
“I told you, I need to talk with you.”
“You really Sandy’s son?”
Sandy. Theodore hadn’t heard anyone call his mother that for years, not since her funeral. Only Uncle Xavier had ever called her that, a secret joke that only a younger brother could have. Everyone else always called her by her proper name of Melisande, or sometimes “Mel” if they were very good friends. Melisande Melinda Ward Nott…that was what it said on her gravestone. “Yes, I am.”
“Did Roderick send you? What’s he want?”
“No, he didn’t send me.” Theodore was shocked at the amount of disdain Xavier managed to express when he said Roderick’s name; he’d known that his uncle and his father didn’t get along, but he hadn’t realized how much. “He’s…he’s dead.” Theodore felt his voice catch on the words.
“Oh. I’m…erm, I’m sorry.” He didn’t sound particularly sorry, but Theodore ignored the insincerity. It didn’t matter whether anyone else in the entire Wizarding world mourned Roderick Nott”chances were, no one would”as long as Theodore followed his last request. Which involved convincing Xavier to let him inside.
“May I come in? Please?”
“Give me one good reason why I should let you in.”
Theodore still couldn’t see anything of Xavier other than the tip of his wand, but he could sense that the older wizard did not trust him in the slightest, and was not about to open the door without a very good reason. And he’s completely right not to trust me. I’m the son of a Death Eater, I haven’t seen him for seven years, and he has nothing but my word to assure him that I’m not here to kill him. The world was, after all, at war.
“I have information for the Aurors,” Theodore said in a low voice, touching his hand to the pocket of his robes. “But I need help. I can’t just go to the Ministry. And once I hand this over, I need someplace to hide from…certain individuals. I couldn’t think of anyone else to go to.” And my father told me to come here, but I’m not going to tell you that.
The door opened a little wider. Theodore could see one dark eye peering out from behind the wand. “What sort of information?”
“The sort of information people die for. Please let me in.”
Finally, the door opened. Theodore had been expecting to see the scrawny, sobbing fifteen-year-old he remembered from his mother’s funeral; what he saw was a haggard man in his early twenties with bags on his eyes and an Auror badge pinned to his chest. Xavier was gripping his wand so tightly that his entire hand was turning white. “Erm, come in,” he said, keeping his wand aimed at Theodore.
Theodore stooped to pick up his wand, keeping his eyes on Xavier. There was something about his uncle that was reminding him of Professor Moody, the teacher who turned Draco into a ferret during their fourth year. There was a hunted look to Moody’s eyes that was also present in Xavier’s. Aurors have authorization to use Unforgivables now, Theodore remembered. He can kill me with the slightest provocation.
“Planning on staying for a while?” Xavier asked, eyeing Theodore’s trunk.
Theodore shrugged. “Like I said, I need someplace to hide. Unless you can think of some other way to keep me from getting killed.” Not that I would listen to your advice.
“Right. So, what’s this information you’ve got?”
Xavier was clearly not one for equivocation. Theodore shut the door behind him and slid his wand up his sleeve, into the dueler’s pocket he had sown into all his robes. It only took a twist of the hand to release the wand from the pocket, designed to save precious seconds during a duel to the death. Roderick had insisted on the pocket back when Theodore had first learned how to duel, a measure Theodore thought was unnecessary. Looking at the dangerous look in Xavier’s eyes, Theodore began to revise his opinion of the precaution.
Rather than immediately produce the contents of his inner pocket, Theodore sat down on a somewhat rickety chair near the door and glanced around. The small house was cluttered and in need of dusting, though that was to be expected. Aurors had to work long hours during times of war, and cleaning was likely not high on their list of priorities. Theodore leaned back in the chair and tried to look nonchalant.
I don’t care if you’re scared out of your mind, Theo, but the minute you let your opponent know it, you lose all control of the situation. Never let them know you’re nervous.
“My father was a very organised man,” Theodore said. “He never left anything to chance. Everything was written down, everything was planned out. Even when it was dangerous to do so.” He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out the aged leather book from his father’s desk. “For the last thirty years, since my father joined the Death Eaters, he has kept records of every act they carried out for Voldemort. Every threat, every murder.” He noticed Xavier cringe at the mention of Voldemort’s name. Coward. “If any of them had found this book, they would have killed him years ago, instead of this morning.”
He handed the book to Xavier. The Auror turned it to a page partway through and read aloud, “‘The first of November, 1980. V. defeated. Dead? Not sure. L. Malfoy came to mansion, reminded me of plan.’ ‘The third of November, 1980. Ministry came to mansion. Faked Imperius per L.M.’s instructions.’” Xavier stopped and looked at Theodore. “Do you realize that if we’d had this a decade ago, we could have put a lot of people in Azkaban?”
“Including my father.” Theodore tried to gauge his uncle’s reaction to Roderick’s ledger. Xavier flipped disbelievingly through the pages, pausing every now and then to read a piece out loud. He clearly thought that the information was valuable, but would it be enough? I don’t have another plan…if he won’t help, Draco is going to kill me. And it would be Draco, Theodore was sure, that Voldemort would send to kill him, probably as some sort of twisted reward. Draco and a couple of brainless hulks to back him up, because Draco never did anything alone.
Xavier had reached the most recent entries, the ones just before Roderick’s arrest. “‘Warning to J. Green”R. Vaisey and self…Elimination of K. and M. Stewart”L. Simon, G. Goyle and self…’ This is incredible. Absolutely incredible.”
“Then will you help me?” Theodore asked. “If I don’t give him ‘assurance of my loyalty’ by tomorrow, Voldemort will kill me.” Xavier cringed again. Were all Aurors this weak? “Can the Ministry protect me?”
“Well…” For a split second, Theodore could see the awkward teenager from his mother’s funeral in his uncle’s face. “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure of Ministry protocol for informant protection”it’s not something we’ve used a lot”but I’m sure there must be something. They wouldn’t just leave a sixteen”no, you’re seventeen, right?”a seventeen-year-old boy to fend for himself.”
Sure, they would. Theodore remembered the Aurors who had come to the mansion when he returned home from Hogwarts, after his father had been arrested. They hadn’t cared that Theodore was fifteen and newly parentless; all they saw was the son of a Death Eater, just an inhuman Slytherin brat. They’d interrogated him ruthlessly for hours until they finally concluded that Theodore had, in fact, known nothing about the attack on the Ministry. They’d throw me to the wolves if saving me wasn’t convenient. But I don’t have any other options.
A large ball of black and white fur bolted down the stairs and leapt into Theodore’s lap, throwing him momentarily off-balance. Theodore stared down at the cat that was now gracefully draping itself over his legs.
“Merc! Get off him!” Xavier commanded. The cat ignored him and closed its eyes. “Mercutio, I said get off!”
Theodore scratched behind the cat’s ears. He’d always liked cats; they were independent creatures, not passive like dogs or house elves. Mercutio purred his gratitude for the attention.
“Bloody useless, that cat,” Xavier muttered as he leafed through Roderick’s ledger again. “Does nothing but sleep and eat, and jump on you when you don’t have the time.”
“Sounds like a lot of people I know,” Theodore said, more to the purring cat than to his uncle. “Is there someplace I could put my things?”
“Upstairs, second door to your left. Guest room. Merc’s been using it for his own private suite, so it might be a tad hairy, but it should do for now. The toilet’s just next to it, if you need to wash.” He was reading a page back near the beginning of the book, during Voldemort’s rise. Judging by his expression, Theodore guessed that he was reading about the incident with V. Michaels. That part had been enough to make Theodore feel sick, when he read it.
It had only been a few hours, Theodore realized as he lay on the cat hair-covered bed in Xavier’s spare room. From his father’s death to the bus ride to Perivale to his negotiations with Xavier, it had only been a few hours. It was remarkable how fast the universe could change. Where will I be a few hours from now? What will have happened by then?
More than the fear of the Death Eaters or the Ministry, it was the uncertainly that was gnawing at him. His future was entirely in the hands of his blood-traitor uncle, and if Xavier decided to throw him to the wolves, there was nothing Theodore could do about it. It was an absolutely sickening feeling.
I am never depending on anyone again. Once this is over”assuming I’m still alive”I am never going to let this happen again. I can’t stand it.
He could hear the murmur of Xavier’s voice from downstairs, punctuated by the crackle of a fire. He was talking to someone from the Ministry, presumably, but Theodore couldn’t make out what he was saying. I expect I’ll find out soon enough. Even if Xavier did support him, would the Ministry? Would they waste their time to protect a Death Eater’s son?
Mercutio leapt up onto the bed and curled into a ball on Theodore’s leg. Theodore tried to shoo him off, but it was clear that the cat was not going to budge. Cats were predictably stubborn that way, unlike humans, who were both unpredictable and easily swayed. If people (wizards in particular) were a bit more like cats, the world might not have as many problems as it did.
Control the Wind by Doctor Phoenix
Chapter Notes: As always, thank you to my beta, dragonwings!