Lawrence's face looming at the back window from the dark was akin to a deranged stay cat hoping to get in. Edwin had been taken by surprise, sat at his dining table reviewing a wizarding perspective on the risk of the internet to the statute of secrecy. Though on reflection, he was not entirely surprised to see Lawrence.

Edwin didn't comment on the state of Lawrence when he let him in, the bloodied, pink hooded top, dirty jeans, boots that had seen better days, and the fact his wand arm was bound in a Muggle plastercast. He didn't rush to report it either. He had a feeling the story behind this, the note, and the scene in Birmingham had far more behind it.

If he felt the need to call it in, the fact that Lawrence had come right to him at home would make it very easy, and Edwin would get all the credit. But there was that voice of go on in the back of his head that suggested that letting Lawrence roam free would provide more excitement in the following weeks. His old friend had been unhinged by the Dark Lord before the worst of the war, but they had shared a love of what the Ministry had become, only Lawrence got caught, and Edwin came to his senses in time to cover his tracks. Which was what he specialised in.

"Couldn't go to St Mungo's. Be arrested. Don't know any decent healers who can keep their mouth shut these days. Everyone's cleaner." Lawrence explained, shoving beans on toast into his mouth haphazardly with a fork. There had been an awkward moment a few minutes earlier where Edwin had needed to cut up the ex-Azakaban inmate's food into mouthfuls - Lawrence's remaining hand attached to a broken arm. It was a good job they'd been friends in former decades, really Edwin thought nothing of it in the end.

"So figured I'd chance it with the Muggles. They did a good job. Didn't ask too many questions, and cost me nothing. I er," Lawrence paused, looked to Edwin with bloodshot eyes, "said I was you. Remembered you existed in their world."

Edwin's mouth twitched but he gave a sigh and a shrug before reaching for his glass of wine. Lawrence had a good memory. It was the fact Edwin did have records with the Muggles as a citizen that he had less trouble establishing a driving license and living amongst them visibly in Guilden Morden.

"It's still broken." Edwin reliably informed his old friend, pointing at the cast, "underneath there it's healing itself, but it'll take weeks."

Mouth full of beans and toast, Lawrence nodded, seemingly unbothered. He raised the stump of his left arm and wiped at his face, the sleeve of the pink hoodie empty and providing a filthy napkin. That had once been his wand arm, Edwin recalled as he watched Lawrence smear baked bean juice on his chin. Edwin tried to ignore it, but Lawrence was just a one man mess in the middle of his calm, clean house. He was a catastrophe, and Edwin was good at cleaning up.

"You able to fix it?" Lawrence asked, finishing his mouthful. Edwin puffed out his cheeks, considering the task.
"Last time you asked me to do that it was someone's neck." He admitted. Lawrence snorted, gesturing with his fork, a baked bean speared on the end.
"You have a good memory, Ed."

Edwin gave a smile, remembering old times. It was so peaceful, boring and normal these days. Even if Lawrence was filthy and covered in baked beans, he was still a welcome disruption. And as the night went on, he said the most intriguing things that made Edwin even more sure that he couldn't possibly hand him over to MLE.

When he finally did slip away, vanishing into the dark back garden, Edwin stared into the night with a new found energy that he'd not felt since the darkest days of the war.