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Very late

It was the warmest February in almost a decade, according to the wireless set behind the bar at The Gallivanting Bard. For weeks now, Lawrence had not felt the benefit of the meteorological statistic, a perpetual cold front lingered nearby, with rattling breath. Since the loss of his assistant, Lawrence had been without a patronus, a conscience, and the dementors had taken advantage. On his outings alone into the night around the country, they found him. Where once he had summoned them, now they never seemed to leave his head, his thoughts, or trail far from his heels.

Once with him, the only thing he could do to rid him of the cacophony in his head was to feed them. They had insatiable hunger, and now they had latched onto him they pestered him until he screamed out into the dark. It had taken him to black corners of Muggle humanity, a tour of grimmest Britain. The dementors devoured all they could while they slowly eroded the better emotions in Lawrence as he watched them feast.

What little sleep he grasped at these days was during the daylight hours, barricaded in a room at the Bard. Even that was interrupted by Ira Almasy’s assistant. Kidnapping students had been an unusual variation in running distasteful errands and beating the crap out of pond life who owed favours or money. Even in those hours the dementors were not far from his cloak tail.

Tonight Lawrence decided that the dementors had feasted quite enough with indiscretion and it was time to execute some control over them in return. Dementors were pack animals in his mind, he was at least temporarily their leader. If he fed them eventually, they would learn their reward came with obedience. Just like they had for the Ministry before Shacklebolt.

At night Hampstead Heath was a hive of activity for men, undesirables, and the occasional Muggle who wanted to venture in to seek space in a crowded city. Lawrence considered all equally good options for prey that night at the top of the hill overlooking the city. Ahead of him, admiring the view perched on the bench was a figure. The black and white hair made an easy target to focus on in the dark.

Over his shoulder, the shuddering, rattled breath was like ice against his damp cloak. Although it had no face he could discern, he was sure it too was watching the same figure. Sensing it beyond his own presence.

“Them.”

“Then eat.” Lawrence snapped with gritted teeth, not loud enough to be heard, “or do you not want your feast?”

There was a long, deliberating rattle, and it swooped past him, rushing over the wet grass ahead of him.

Crisp, cool air touched on the bitterness of deep worry and kissed some of it away from his mind - or at least brought a replacement concern of heat. He pulled his already-buttoned coat tighter around him, mist forming in front of his mouth as he shifted on the frozen bench.

He wouldn't normally be out on a night like this, but his head demanded fresh air and tranquility. There were other places that he frequented, but this one just had a special place for him. It meant something to him, even if it would seem silly to others.

Your quirks always seem silly to others.

Arc took a deep breath of frosted air, focusing on the crisp cold filling his chest. Of late his head was being burdened by thoughts that made him want to curl up inside for hours, and one of the reasons why he was specifically out here was to calm all of those thoughts and bring something happier in. "Don't you start," he said quietly to himself. February had been a spot of a great little party that he'd thoroughly enjoyed, and he was preserving those emotions by remembering them. After the recent speed date, the cold air to remind him of the rest of the world to enjoy rather than one moment in time was helping him.

His preoccupation only shifted from focus when he heard the tiny crackling next to him. Normally he or anyone wouldn't have heard of it, but at this time of the night the air was so still a pin would've clanged. He saw the icy dusting cover the grass before him before the blades withered and died, and the ferns spread and grow across the ironwrought handle.

It took him a moment to realise where it was coming from. Then he leapt out of his seat and backed off, fingers fumbling for wand, when he realised what the frost was about.

Dementors. What could he remember about dementors? Plenty, but the panic and an overly familiar sensation were creeping over him. You're better. Hold it there. Remember the lessons.

Remember the lessons. More like remember the worst! The dementors swooped, he turned and ran down the path. The cold air scratched his lungs and his own breath flew past his face. He'd rather run.

You always run, but you know it's going to catch you. He heard the telltale rattle and resolved to run even faster. You're never going to outrun it. You might as well let it be, don't waste your energy. You're not strong enough.

His head was hurting, but for all anyone knew someone could have set wolves on him with the speed he was going. Not that it mattered, dementors were shadow and darkness and they didn't tire. You're going to fall any moment now. Any moment. Trip. Fall. You always do. Feel that pain? Don't pretend you don't know it.

Arc took a look over his shoulder and felt himself practically leap forward. "Leave me alone. Leave me alone! Please!" Futile, to both dementors and the voice in his head that sounded if a dementor could talk, but mixed with a familiar voice that he knew was his own. You're supposed to fall. You always do.

His foot caught on something, and the next minute he was sprawled on the ground with his lip stinging. A quick wipe left small blood smears across the back of his hand. Arc made as if to scramble to his feet, ready to run again, but they were upon him.

"Expecto Patronum!" The silver that came out was meagre and his hand trembling, but the dementors backed off. Arc took a step forward, slightly emboldened, but it was short-lived and he knew it. He was still trembling. You're not strong enough. You've never won the battle. You'll never win this one.

He didn't remember what happened next after that, just an overload of pain washing over him. Enough of it that he didn't remember anything at all.

Lawrence watched from beneath his hood as the dementor swept past, sensing out the other figure nearby. It raised both its skeletal hands up as it approached, the ground freezing around it as it went, leaving an icy trail. Lawrence stayed planted to the spot, watching, feeling the anticipation the dementor relayed back to him. It was a kind of excitement, tinged with dread. Rather like seeing someone goad another, enjoying their cheek, but knowing that they are about to receive serious pain from the goaded party a moment later. A sort of karma.

By the strangest of odds, the figure on the bench recoiled, sensing the dementor. Muggles tended to just feel the presence of a depressive state, and have little to defend themselves against it. The cold would put them off, but it wouldn't ordinarily induce this sort of reaction. Lawrence checked himself, which in turn signalled something not quite right to the dementor. The hands of the white and black haired man were on his coat, fumbling pockets, or so it appeared from behind. The dementor circled, drawing closer around the bench when its dinner took flight down the hill. Bugger, it could run.

"Well go after it!" Lawrence exclaimed, this time aloud enough that someone might hear, a command to the dementor. It lowered its head and swooped in the direction of the rapidly retreating footsteps, blind, only able to follow the sense of a soul and the noise the body made. Without having to traverse the path with feet of its own, it made good headway. Lawrence, realising the larger the distance between them, the less chance he had of asserting control on the dementor, set off after them - not quite so fleet of foot.

It was to advantage that the running figure sprawled on the path some way down the slope. The noise the impact made had the dementor right upon them.
"Expecto-"
EAT Lawrence thought firmly, as if shouting it aloud at the dementor.

There was a thud as the dementor's dinner hit the ground again, out cold. Lawrence breathed in deeply, glad of the air to feed his lungs from the sudden run. His eyes swept the scene around them, conscious that casting a patronus charm in the middle of Hampstead Heath would show up as a blip on the Ministry's monitoring maps, even if it hadn't become corporeal. There was a heightened possibility that company was incoming and his ears were pricked over the sound of the dementor's haggard breath.


Lawrence shot round, wand raised, ready to defend himself. The dementor continued to feast, not at all bothered, preoccupied with sating hunger rather than the potential thread of a witch or wizard.

Andromeda apparated. Her wand was poised in her hand. She was on the night shift again. There was dementor activity on the Heath and someone had cast a patronus. This meant trouble. She had to find them. In London it was dark but there was always some light.
"Lumos." She saw a trail of frost on the ground. She followed it with her wand and lifted it up above her. There was the dementor. The horrible thoughts began straight away. Andie dismissed them. Someone was lying on the ground. There was someone else there too. Andromeda felt like she recognised them both. She assumed the other person was a bystander. That they were not able to cast their patronus.
"Expecto Patronus!" She yelled. Her panther patronus galloped out of her wand at the dementor.

In the wake of the Hogwarts Abductions and the Level 9 revelations, Nadine found herself increasingly shoved towards dementor duties. Both she and Andromeda were excluded from that investigation due to blood ties. From Nadine’s perspective the younger of the two of them was ploughing all her efforts into the dementor investigation in a great need to prove herself. It was beyond embarrassing to have one’s father arrested, career-ending to have him convicted of such a horrific charge. Nadine had always been sure of something strange of Mortimer Gamp, well at least she made out so, and that she could never quite get to the bottom of it. Not too much, mind, otherwise people would suggest she was also incapable.

A moment behind her colleague, she had cast a weary eye over the map for approaching dementors. Her boots landed firmly on the footpath behind and to the left of Lawrence. Like Andromeda, her immediate instinct was to look about herself and see the dementor readily feasting on the figure lying on the ground. The air around them was deathly cold, and her breath clouded before her.

“Sir, you should back away,” Nadine spoke automatically to what she assumed was a bystander. Wand in her left, she reached her right hand out to grasp what should have been a wrist.

Lawrence felt he needn’t have bothered feeling threatened by the incoming Ministry. An auror appeared, on the shorter side, and gave him a cursory glance before leaping into action. His long cloak and hood draw up over his head made him look like any other wizard taking a slightly muggle-conspicuous walk across Hampstead Heath late at night. But as her patronus burst forth from her wand, he recognised her. Auror Gamp, again.

They had met in London, where Lawrence had thrown a stunner at her to allow he and Shufflebottom to get away[1]. At the time he’d not known her name. He found out later she had been on the scene at Hogsmeade[2] and the very following day they had duelled in the street in Brighton outside The Old Ocean[3]. Auror Gamp got everywhere, even arresting Shufflebottom[4].

Lawrence remembered Andromeda Gamp when she was younger. Invited to a family dinner by Mortimer and Lyra Gamp. Pint-sized metamorphmagus with two older brothers. She packed a punch, but from what he observed, a tendency to rush in. That came with experience, and age. Besides, she had to redeem herself now Mortimer was no longer a free man.

Another crack of an apparating body made Lawrence turn enough to regard them out the corner of his eye, face in shadow. If he played along with the bystander lark they might also ignore him and he might slip away.

“Sir, you should back away,” Her fingers found an abrupt end to his arm and Lawrence sighed irritably. Now he had to curse her. Tsk.

At close range[5] there was no chance to react and she crumpled beside him.

"When you’re done with that, there’s a fresh one here.” Lawrence called to the dementor, rolling Nadine onto her back with a dirty boot on her chest before giving her a satisfying boot to the ribs. He stepped over her without much care of where he trod, a most unnerving smile just visible in the light beneath his hood.

“Andromeda Gamp. Your father would be so proud of you.”

1.	11th January And Fate Disposes
2.	15th January A Denser Darkness
3.	16th January Old Hands
4.	25th January Suspicion Haunts the Guilty Mind
5.	Stupefy

Andromeda knew Nad was behind her. It was more important to save the person in front of them. Her panther tore the dementor with its claws. She felt powerful. She would beat the dementor off. But the voice behind her was not Nadine. It was a man. The bystander. Andromeda's wand struck out at Musgrave immediately. Her curse lit up the space between them. Nadine was on the floor. He must have cursed her when she appeared. Now she had 2 casualties and Musgrave. Her hand seized her auror badge. She signaled for urgent help.
"He is!" Andie yelled. "You bastard!"

It was inky black and everything felt heavy. Her ears were ringing and her sight took a while to come back. What she heard first was in her head, not the world around her. A deflected spell from Andromeda had caught her, bringing her round. Sprawled on the footpath, staring up at the London sky, Nadine’s body didn’t move as she began to regain consciousness from the stunner to her head. She was dazed, confused and she could taste blood. She could hear her daughter, Ariadne screaming, begging or help, for her mother, she could hear little Aoide bawling her lungs out, shouting mama, mama, mama!! and her partner’s frantic shouts. The dementors were dragging the thoughts from her head, but their cries in her head brought her back.

“Andie…” Pinn breathed, inaudible to the others. Her mind was quickly piecing back together what had happened and she tried to lift her head in the dark. Out of the corner of her eye she saw spells thrown, the air bright. Inches from the tatty boots before her, lying on the tarmac, was her hawthorn wand. She had to reach it.

Every part of her ached and felt heavy as lead but Nadine was determined. She had made a stupid mistake and she had to rectify it now. It looked too far, she would have to drag herself across the ground if necessary. Muffling her own cries of pain in her throat - not realising that as well as hitting the ground hard, Musgrave had also booted her while down, she reached her left hand - her wand arm - out across the tarmac fingers reaching desperately.

When Musgrave’s left foot stamped on her hand she screamed in anguish, initially from the pain and then in fury. There wasn’t time to decide if it was on purpose or due to Andromeda’s exchange. Nadine’s right hand launched across, bringing her over onto her left side, and she hung onto his ankle for dear life, wrenching at it to lift his weight and simultaneously preventing him from apparating away without her in tow. With a gasp of air, eyes blurred from watering, she kicked out with her right foot at his right leg, hoping to knock him off his feet with a kick to the back of his knee.

There was a satisfying crunch as he stamped down on the encroaching hand to his left. The wand it sought was before him, on the footpath still unclaimed. Auror Gamp was maintaining a furious parry of curses with him, the dementor still feasting off the unidentified wizard behind her. Lawrence could feel the dementor’s delight at feasting, its wish to deliver a kiss, but its distraction from the magic around it.

The boot to the back of his right knee jolted his wand upwards, sending his curse for Auror Gamp above her and to the dementor. He struggled to regain balance, leaning more on his left foot, screwing her hand to the asphalt in the process, not out of intended malice. Andromeda’s curse hit him on the right shoulder like a battering ram and he went over backwards, legs tangled with Auror Pinn who, to her credit, clung to him, and took a boot to the chin before he got free of her.

Interrupted by the stray curse and sensing an ally in jeopardy, the dementor rounded on Andromeda, leaving Arcturus on the grass, devoid of almost all happy feeling. Lawrence scrambled back to his feet to see it encircle her, just as the auror on the ground before him attempted to throw herself at his ankles again to stop him escaping.

This was too close. Turning, he fled from the scene into the dark.

Andromeda did not want to turn away from the person on the ground. She was under attack. Nadine was on the floor. Andromeda hoped help was on the way. She had several choices. Put herself at risk and save the person on the ground. Let the dementor carry on feeding. Wake up Nadine and hope she was ok. Or fight Lawrence Musgrave.

Andromeda was angry. She filled the gap between them with spells. Her best duelling. If she could knock him out the dementor would be easy to banish. She could provide first aid to both casualties. One of her spells hit Nad by accident. Andromeda thought she saw Nad move. She felt triumphant when Nad grabbed Musgrave. Her spell hit him too. She ran towards them. She did not want to cast a spell at him and hit Nad. They were wrestling.

She fired more curses after Musgrave as he ran. Where was their help? Andie felt the dementor right behind her. She turned around and cast expecto patronus. It took two goes. Her panther patronus chased the dementor. Finally she got to the person on the floor. She hoped it was not too late.

"Hey!" Andromeda grabbed the guy's shoulder. She sent up a signal to St Mungo's. "Nad!" She hoped the other auror was ok enough. "Arcturus?" He was so cold. His face was bloody. "Arcturus it is Andromeda Gamp. Hold on." She checked he was breathing. She tried to warm him up with a spell. "Nad! Are you ok? The dementor got him too long. He needs the hospital right now." She looked at Nadine. "And so do you. Quick thinking back there."

The world spun again as Nadine took a boot to the chin. She clung on to Musgrave as best she could with one hand, but he was stronger, and armed. Well, in that he had a wand. They were equal in terms of how many useful hands they had right then.

“Bastard!” Nadine yelled after him as he fled, and saw Andie’s curses chase him down the slope. She tried to drag her feet beneath her to chase, but she was too winded and disorientated to try and flailed on the ground a moment. Thank Merlin for Andie. Although Nadine probably wouldn’t big her up later, at that moment she was incredibly thankful for her colleague.

The dementor shot past her, chased by Andromeda’s panther patronus. The ghostly big cat dissipated just as Andromeda yelled. Nadine dragged herself up onto one knee and then the other, cradling her left hand. Her wand was scuffed on the ground but she was relieved to retrieve it. As she straightened up from picking it up, about to head to Andromeda and the figure on the floor, the world tilted. It was like being hit by a massive cold wave of seawater. The dementor hadn’t left them.

Nadine swung round, losing her balance and landing on her backside again. Her balance was all to pot, but she was more alarmed at the fact the dementor - and potentially Musgrave - were still nearby.

"Nad! Are you ok? The dementor got him too long. He needs the hospital right now. And so do you. Quick thinking back there.”
“D- D-“ Nadine screwed her eyes shut a moment and swallowed hard before reopening them and raising her wand. Her patronus was just a whisp, nothing corporeal. “DEMENTOR NOT GONE, ANDIE!” She scrabbled back to her feet and stumbled on her toes and her right hand to get over to them both, landing awkwardly beside Hollingbury’s prone form, ready to defend him at close range instead.

Andromeda swore. The dementor was rushing back towards them for another go. She was furious. Why was it coming back? It was hard to be happy when you are angry. She tried to find that place in her head again. Her family together. Her brothers laughing. Her friends. Her niece. Her colleagues punching the air after winning a case. The way her heart skipped a beat in the lust of meeting someone new.

Bang! Her patronus was back.

Then crack! Help finally arrived.

- End -