About 7:30PM

To say that Genevieve Garcia-Gamp felt uncomfortable about returning to Hogwarts School would be an understatement. Having been far more interested in her boyfriend turned husband turned death eater criminal at the time, she’d left at the end of her sixth year to be with him. A silly teenaged urge which had impacted the rest of her life and led her to this moment where she was approaching the school gates with a feeling of overwhelming nausea. It was here that aforementioned boyfriend turned husband turned Death Eater had come under the pretence of fighting against the Dark Lord. It was here that everything Gen had known had been shattered and she’d been left a single mother and a suspect of crimes against Muggleborns. It was, therefore, safe to presume that Hogwarts was not somewhere that the editor of Witch Weekly felt comfortable visiting.

Despite her discomfort, Gen was able to smile at the Headmaster as the gates were charmed to open for her entrance. In the darkening sky, the castle loomed behind him and Gen pulled her robes tighter around her body. They were an ornate set of robes, a deep blue colouring with a gold trim. Underneath she wore a knee length chiffon dress and a usual set of stiletto heels. This evening, she’d forgone a pair of her favourite glittery shoes. She was here as a mother, not Queen G.

“Professor Greyfriar, thank you for agreeing to meet so quickly.” She’d only sent him the owl yesterday morning before paying a visit to Barnabus Cuffe. After this talk with Greyfriar, she would need to see Dante. That was a chat she looked forward to even less. “I’d not normally ask to meet with anyone from the school. You do your job here and I do mine at home,” she’d never been one of those meddling parents, “this is something that will affect more than my son alone, however.” She was rambling with no clear message. Her owl had expressed no information but simply a wish to meet with him and her son.

She was shorter in person, but she carried herself like she had a sword hidden under her cloak. Whatever humbled or grim-business demeanor Geneveieve Garcia-Gamp wore, Knox Greyfriar knew she could be formidable if she wanted to. He would admit to enjoying the Witch Weekly from time to time, but that he'd always been repelled by their more infamous columnist who was now sacked. But Greyfriar's opinions on Garcia-Gamp's profession didn't really matter: both of their business tonight was about the well-being of a child. Very little compared in import to either of their duties.

When the gates opened, Knox extinguished his bluesmoke cigar and adopted a posture of greeting.

"Yes, of course, Madam. Welcome to Hogwarts." It was a phrase he never neglected to say. (To guests of good faith. Kurby Bagnold could eat one thousand brogs.)

Behind him was a shining black open air carriage. A duo of Thestrals were secured at the front, ready to relay them to the castle. Knox could see them clearly, as could many people his age. Their odd skeletalized shape and bat-like wings.  The Headmaster opened the door for Genevieve and offered a hand for her to step up.

"We share the same business, Ms. Gamp. This is not an imposition, and indeed, it is better that you've come. I appreciate your working around my schedule."

He was referring to last night's full moon. He'd done his best, but he looked somewhat ill, and there was a fresh cut from his left cheekbone down into his beard. It was a minor laceration, but it would likely scar - most werewolf wounds did.

He followed her into the carriage and soon their progress began. They'd have a quarter hour before they reached the castle, which was enough.

"Tell me, what's happening?"

Greyfriar, sickly looking and seemingly exhausted, greeted the witch with a professional and kindly demeanour. The lack of harshness or crispness to his manner served to mildly diminish her discomfort at a return to Hogwarts. She’d seen pictures of Greyfriar in the Daily Prophet and he certainly lived up to expectations. He was a tall bear of a man, large and carrying an air of importance.

The mildly improved calmness immediately changed as she came through the gates and her gaze fell on the carriage. For so many years at Hogwarts, she’d always found it thoroughly bizarre that they were invisible to everyone but a minority could see them. Now, Gen failed to succeed in schooling her expression as she stared at the tall skeletal creatures about to lead them down the drive to the school.

Still staring with a wide eyed and cautious gaze, Gen took the headmaster’s hand and stepped up into the carriage.
Gamp. Always Gamp. Never García. She’d chosen well to keep Dante away from the name. He’d never be a Gamp, but always a García. Always his mother’s son, never his father’s.

Settling to sit as comfortably as possible in the carriage, Gen looked down at her hands as she considered the words she’d gone over this afternoon as opposed to working. For a witch whose entire career revolved around her use of words, it amazed her how, at times, they deserted her.

“Dante’s father is a convicted Death Eater serving a life sentence.” It was said in a matter of fact manner, a normal part of her life after so many years of being the wife of a Death Eater. Her eyes snapped up to meet his in the darkness; she’d met very few people who didn’t know who her husband was and doubted that the Hogwarts Headmaster needed telling. “I was made aware this week that he is appealing the conviction and his case is strong.”

As more minutes passed in Genevieve's company, the more Knox could see the state she was in. There was something very dark following her, wasn't there, and she was shoring up the defenses. Hogwarts was a place that could serve that, to a point, but it was a static bulwark and meant to be a temporary home.

She was plain in her explanation, but it shocked Greyfriar. He knew of Leo Gamp, and he remembered his name among the many who were expeditiously prosecuted following the Battle of Hogwarts and the fall of the Dark Lord. He furrowed his brow, making no effort to conceal his concern.

"That's preposterous. Madam, why now? What grounds could they possibly have?" The Death Eaters had been operating with impunity and had made no effort to conceal their crimes; ergo the cases against them had been solid.

"It's been more than ten years..." he added, befuddled.

“Thirteen years.” Gen stated quickly. “He’s claiming unfair trial. He was prosecuted by Theadora Kingstreet and now she’s sat in an Azkaban cell crazy as a soup sandwich.” While she knew very little yet about the intricacies of his appeal, Gen did understand that Kingstreet’s role in his original conviction was the key part. Greyfriar, of course, knew of Kingstreet. He was an elder on the Wizengamot, although he clearly wasn’t sitting often if he’d not heard this news. He had, also, been the Headmaster back when Kingstreet had been involved in the murders at remembering day several years ago. “You would be privy to more information than I, Mr Greyfriar.” And if it weren’t such a personal issue, she may have tried to pry it from him at a later date in order to write some beautifully scandalous articles about the entire thing. Suddenly, Gen felt highly vulnerable as another publication could chose to do this.

“Until recently, Leo had no idea of Dante’s existence.” People had judged her for not telling him, but they could judge as they liked. It was better to be judged for not informing her criminal husband of his son than to be judged as a knowing accomplice in his crimes. “No access to outside world in prison, no books. Letter writing isn’t a privilege given to Death Eaters.” As they moved down the drive, Gen fiddled with the sleeve hem of her robe.

“I believe his new lawyer gave him my book. Now he has a bigger reason to fight to get out.” And it terrified her. If Gen had anything to do with it, Leo would never get anywhere near their son. Her son.

Theodora Kingstreet! The name came at him like a nightmare remembered in the middle of the day. He hadn't thought of that despicable witch in years. He had spent nights laid awake working through having seen the murders, the tangle of his son Devlin Matthews in her employ, the student framed for the murder. His face went pale and he took a deep breath.

"I am relieved from my duties in the Wizengamot," he mumbled, an aside in explanation. In title, he'd be an Elder until sanction or removal, but there were few circumstances where his schedule would allow him to be in London any length of time. The relevance, of course, was that he hadn't heard of this.

But he could find out.

"If this involves Kingstreet, there's no predicting how this could turn out. I apologize. You now that. How can I help?"

The Headmaster felt as certain as he could that Dante was safe at Hogwarts. Well, safer than anywhere else he could be. The castle's security had been breached many times over the years, but all were extraordinary events, or involved activities out of bounds. That would be little comfort.

But physical safety wasn't the only consideration. There were a few students at the moment who were protected but still struggling. Dante Garcia-Gamp would now be facing the same situation.

“I don’t worry for Dante’s safety, if that’s what you’re concerned about.” It had briefly crossed her mind and then left almost as quickly. “Leo wouldn’t do anything to harm him…” Gen paused, frowning. “Or at least, I hope he wouldn’t.” Anyone that had heard of Genevieve would question how much she ever knew about her husband. Even she wondered how she’d been in love with the boy since Hogwarts and never known a thing. Perhaps love could blind you? Perhaps she really was an imbecile?

But the Headmaster had asked how he might help, not how his help wasn’t needed.
“I don’t want any contact to be had with Dante from him or his lawyer or anyone associated with him. My son is going to be confused enough as it is without the father he’s been told is a cruel torturer and murderer possibly being freed.” It was surprisingly easy to talk about and Gen felt far more comfortable playing the role of protective mother rather than that of panicked wife. “Any owls that arrive for him need to be checked.” She hated this, to control what her boy read, but how else could she protect him?

“The Daily Prophet will be covering this in due time, but it won’t be kind to either the Ministry or my husband. I imagine those affected by what Leo and others like him did, will seek to penalise my son. He’s handled a lot already and I realise that my job doesn’t make it easy for him either, but this is different.” Gen pierced Greyfriar’s gaze with her own. “Kids are cruel and emotions make people unpredictable and reckless.”

The Headmaster nodded along as the cart trundled up the steep, tree-sheltered road. Genevieve was as clear and focused as seemed possible in this situation; she knew exactly what she needed and Knox felt certain the school could rise to the occasion. With whatever chaos was coming, Genevieve Garcia-Gamp wouldn't easily cede control. Good.

He didn't agree that kids were, by any inherent nature, cruel, but it would help nothing to argue the point. Slytherin House had rallied around Feliks, and he had no doubt they'd close ranks around young Dante. The professors, too, were all as stalwart, discrete, and kind and would know what to do. He shared these thoughts with her.

"Slytherin House will stand by him. They're extraordinary protectors if they put their mind to it. And the staff are experienced in all the ways relevant to keeping things as peaceful as possible."

Knox continued. "However, I'm not in the habit of censoring the post, and I'm sure you understand why."  It wasn't a 'no'. And even though the request was for good reason and coming from the student's parent, there was something sacred about the autonomy of owls. He'd need to be convinced.

“I’m not sure that I do understand, Headmaster.” Rather immediately, there was a tension as the carriage continued to be pulled towards the castle. Gen’s stomach was knotting and twisting with the realisation that soon she would be faced with her twelve-year-old son, having to explain the unenviable situation. There’d be questions; a mind-boggling amount of questions. He always had questions, never content to not know everything. In that way, Dante was extremely similar to his mother. Her current lack of knowledge about the situation was driving her to madness.

“Leo Gamp was given life in Azkaban for murder and torture. Let’s use an example…a thirteen-year-old muggleborn at her home with her patents, rather than bringing her to the ministry as per his orders, he killed her. Avada Kedavra right in front of her muggle parents. That was after a good few minutes of the cruciatus cruse just for good measure. One of the charges against him. He was a well-respected and trusted auror who used that trust to do unspeakable things. He is an accomplished liar and manipulator and my son is a twelve-year-old boy who would do anything to have a dad in his life.”

Gen uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, closer to Greyfriar in the carriage. Her gaze was intent, unrelenting. “Can you explain to me, Mr Greyfriar, why that habit can’t be broken for such an extreme circumstance?”

The Headmaster couldn't help but give Mrs. Garcia-Gamp the same disappointed look he used with students. It was an almost instinctual response to her needlessly sensational, manipulative 'example' of why reading students mail was necessary. It was exactly what he should have expected from the showrunner of Witch Weekly, a savage retort from an angry parent. He couldn't judge her, but he could reject the logic of it.

He let her lean in, and didn't escalate, remembering they shared the same goal. It would be best she didn't see Knox as an impediment.

"I mean to say, there may be a more effective alternative that doesn't involve the school violating the privacy of students. It is my understanding that owls out of Azkaban are controlled at source. There are additional petitions that would make any attempt at contact illegal. My recollection is that the Wizengamot is liberal in granting them."

"I'm not saying no, Genevieve. I'm suggesting a solution with teeth. I'm suggesting something that may preserve trust between you, me, and Dante."

His tone was earnest. Dante was young, but he was shrewd. He can't imagine he wouldn't catch on.

There wasn’t an enormous age difference between the two riding in the carriage; perhaps around 15 years. But Gen felt as if she were being addressed more as one of his students than one of their parents. She considered it may have been due to his prior judgements and her public reputation. One could only hope that that wouldn’t affect his treatment of her son.

It was with frustration that the editor and journalist sat back and crossed her arms. She was desperately out of her comfort zone.
“My husband is locked up for committing acts that were illegal. Despite this, he is possibly about to be released.” Now, Genevieve spoke to the Headmaster slowly, trying to control a rising frustration and temper. “He doesn’t have much respect for legalities, if you know what I mean?”

“Do you have children, Mr Greyfriar?” He may have taken the liberty of addressing her by first name; Gen didn’t currently find it suitable in this situation. “How would you feel to find out that your 12-year-old son was in danger because his school wouldn’t take suitable measures to safeguard him?” She wanted to ask how the public would see it, to drag her own standing into the discussion as a threat, but she held back. For now. “My son’s safety trumps his need for privacy and his safety is in your hands during the term, Headmaster.”

The Headmaster set his jaw. He had almost total authority over Hogwarts and the temptation to exercise it against this parent's wishes was there. But he kept the urge in check. There had to be a mutually acceptable solution.  Knox's faith in the Wizarding legal system was not absolute, but it was greater than some.

When she asked if he had children, he couldn't hide a wash of shame from his face. He did have a son, a grown man now, with whom he was estranged, and to whom a great many harms had befallen. It wasn't difficult to remember the anguish of nearly losing him to criminal violence. He couldn't help but agree he'd have done anything to protect him. In fact, he'd crossed a few ethical and legal lines to do so.

"Please understand that I'm not against you. I can't help but worry that if the two of us form any conspiracy regarding your boy that he might be more easily charmed away from you. Surely, a young wizard will be drawn to his father even if that father is as dangerous as Dante's."

She had no doubt considered it, but he thought it needed to be brought into the conversation. It wasn't at all superflouous.

"Would you consider telling him? It would go a long way, I think, for him to know what is planned and why it's being done. He might feel more in control."

Knox's expression was still a little sad. Even if all was to go along the best case scenario, there was no real positive outcome for Dante. Or Genevieve.

“I don’t want a conspira-” Genevieve stopped mid-sentence, choosing to let the wizard continue. She wasn’t here to take part in a battle of wills, she was here make sure Leo Gamp didn’t rip her son away the moment he was released. She was there to make sure Dante was prepared for what was to come. Fighting his Headmaster would do nothing but leave her very unwelcome to return to Hogwarts in the future.

They were closing on the castle as Greyfriar shared his thoughts on being honest with her son. Gen couldn’t help but smile knowingly.

“You’ve met my son, yes?” Greyfriar taught him and one of the rare owls that he’d sent her since the start of the school year had, of course, mentioned his fascination with History of Magic. The boy was obsessed, probably due to his own family history. “He will be the one telling me what needs to be planned.” Dante was intelligent and bossy. The pair certainly didn’t have an average mother and son relationship.

The carriage drew to a halt outside the main entrance to the castle, but Gen didn’t move.

“I fully intend on telling my son everything. As much as people may judge that, my keeping secrets about any of this will only serve to cause more damage when he finds out from someone else. It may have escaped your attention, Mr Greyfriar, but I don’t agree with secrets.” The witch rose an eyebrow before standing up to dismount from the carriage.

"Ah," Knox replied with relieved smile. Mrs. Garcia-Gamp planned to tell the sharp young Dante the truth, and include him in this process. Perhaps he should have assumed as much, but he was satisfied that was settled.

"I couldn't agree more," said the wizard in possession of a great many secrets. He stepped out of the carriage and offered his hand.  He couldn't help but feel a stroke of admiration for Genevieve's handling of what was happening to her family. They didn't know each other well, but he would pity anyone (anyone less contemptible than her husband) that would tangle with her and Dante.

He felt far more comfortable that Dante would be involved. With that settled, he wondered what other requests she had.

"As far as other precautions, did you have anything else in mind? Dante isn't yet of age for Hogsmeade visits, and the other faculty will be informed so that measures can be taken if any off-campus activities are planned." 

The History of Magic students would be taking a trip to museums in London, as an example.

"I'm confident in the impermeability of the castle and grounds, but I'm sure our Professor of Defense could arrange additional watch and wards."

It was with a great deal of grace that Gen stepped down from the carriage having taken Greyfriar’s offered hand. Now stood on the path, she pulled her robes tighter against the chill. In the lighting from the entrance, Greyfriar came into clearer view and she was reminded of why he’d been unable to meet the preceding evening. Lingering effects of a transformation remained, giving him a tired and somewhat dishevelled appearance. Of course, Gen didn’t have a prior meet to compare with, but she could only wonder at the extent of the changes over the full moon.

Feeling decidedly dwarfed by the wizard as they stood side by side and walked towards to the door, Gen considered his words. Until he mentioned their defences professor having a part in it.
A sceptical glance was cast in his direction.
“The same Professor who can’t ward his own house?” He’d nearly died, unable to fight off the former auror and now criminal that has tricked his way into their home. What would he really do in response to a former auror with no boundaries and a son he’d been kept from for over a decade?

“Until the court hearing, I don’t want Dante to leave the school grounds. After? Well…we see what decision the wizengamot makes. He may be staying here for Christmas.” She didn’t want that, and her expression made that pretty clear. For whatever sort of mother people thought she was with her partying, drinking and general ridiculousness, she adored her son. It was quiet with him at school, uncomfortably quiet.

Before they walked through the doors to the entrance hall, Gen stopped and turned back to face him, frowning.
“I’m not a paranoid parent demanding things with no reason, Mr Greyfriar. I was fooled for 11 years and paid the price. Dante doesn’t need to follow my mistake. I want him protected.”