“He’s not here, he’s not here…” Willy repeated over and over, still with one knee on the ground, begging both aurors. Gladys-May would kill him. He only wanted to earn a bit of money where he could to keep them going. Admittedly the money he’d earned was from pickpocketing with Lawrence in late December and January as they reacquainted. Lawrence hadn’t any money to give him, just the possibility of it, and that was enough for gullible Shufflebottom. That and the feeling he was useful and doing something important, what with Mr Glass and Mr Gamp telling them to go after dementors.

There was a point! Mr Gamp!

Never mention Gamp or Glass. Whatever happens to you. Not unless they catch me first.

Oh what a confusion!

Willy dragged himself back to his feet, forced to watch the aurors sweep his farm for signs of Lawrence. Cider bottles, a plate and a blanket up in the hayloft suggested someone was sleeping up there beneath the tin roof, and livid, Gladys-May admitted through gritted teeth to Auror Gamp that it was not her husband or children who would have been up there. She didn’t look at her husband and wouldn’t let Willy hug his scared children before they took him away. Her jaw was set and there was an odd shine to her eye that broke his heart.



End