Rain pattered in an uneven rhythm on the floor to ceiling windows overlooking his back garden. The patio just beyond them was the only part visible at that hour, though the wind rushed through the spring leaves on the trees in the dark beyond.

Edwin was mostly oblivious to the noise as he hummed absentmindedly along to the wireless. He was halfway through a very good bottle of wine which he’d decided was too good to share with anyone. He’d been saving it for a personal special occasion, which had come in the form of the night before his very last day as Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.

Tomorrow night he’d be out celebrating with a dinner, not quite a retirement do, but near enough given how long he’d led the Department. It was strange to consider that he’d be passing it all on to Quill. He had no doubts on her capability, but it was all he had known of the Ministry for a decade. He ought to head upstairs to bed, sleep, and save the rest of the wine for another day, but well, you only lived once...




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Edwin awoke with a start at the end of one of the low sofas. He hadn’t consciously realised he was falling asleep in the living room. It was dark in the house apart from one standing lamp up against the dark rain-specked glass across the room. His almost empty wine glass was safely on the table beside a Muggle newspaper opened to an article the Muggle-worthy Excuse Committee had planted to alert Muggles to look for Musgrave.

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Edwin’s heart seized in fear within his ribcage and his hand fumbled for his wand, lights burning brightly all of a sudden in his haste, and he threw up his hand instinctively, squinting his eyes against the light.

The figure was gone, but Edwin’s heart thumped quickly in his chest, eyes examining fruitlessly left and right for where it had gone, in a half crouch up from the sofa. The rain outside had stopped, but the windows were covered in droplets from where it had hit the panes and clung, tracing lazy trails down as it lost grip. Edwin approached the glass, wand gripped tightly, breathing quickly, cursing the wine which robbed the accuracy of his movements.

There was no-one there. There hadn’t been anyone there. It was all in his head. Edwin let out a breath of relief as he told himself he was imagining things. He could have laughed at his silly self. The new Minister's shoulders relaxed as he went to turn away, intent to finish that glass and head to bed properly this time when his eye caught something.






Edwin reached out, his fingers trembling. He tried to wipe the print away from the inside of the glass, believing it to be his own, but it was on the outside. There was the imprint of a hand on the outside of his windows.











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