“Why is it always so feckin’ cold here?” Enid Jingleberry, overpaid but (in her opinion) highly underappreciated defence lawyer was following a skinny male guard with a brown mop of scraggly hair atop his head down a long and breezy corridor. He didn’t look much like he could guard a ceramic garden gnome, let alone a prison full of the most dangerous criminals in Europe. Perhaps there might be another prison break on the cards. That would be delightfully fun. And great for business. “Ye torture them enough, don’t ye? Ye need to have them freezing their knackers off too, love?”

The guard, quite rightly, chose not to comment and came to an abrupt halt at a black metal door. He turned and nodded to the lawyer who gave him a perfectly pleasant smile. “Much obliged.”

The door was slammed shut behind Enid when she stepped in, and she fixed her gaze on her new favourite client. Not favourite because of his personality. They all had those. The kookier, the better. But how exciting it was to overturn a lifetime conviction. It had been too much of an opportunity to pass up, of course. Who wouldn’t enjoy messing with Level 2? Enid had made an extremely lucrative career out of it.

“Ye look like crap, Leo. Ye need t’sort yourself out before the trial.” Enid reprimanded with a shake of her head. “We’re presenting an innocent man ready to let loose once more on the outside world, not a criminal who can’t keep himself kempt. I’d cross the street to avoid ye and that’s sayin’ summit.”

From her bag, she produced a bacon and egg bap wrapped in greaseproof paper which she tossed over to Gamp. Next, she also pulled out a cup of coffee in a ceramic mug that said ‘My Quill is Mightier than Yours’. A wave of her hand and the enchantment keeping the liquid inside vanished. She placed the mug in front of her client with a smile. “A little kick of summit extra.” After a wink, Enid once more went digging in the enchanted bag for her paperwork, a quill and an inkpot.

It seemed as if he were getting more and more visitors these days, but Enid Jingleberry was the only one that he could truly say that he had looked forward to. 

Even without the spectral creatures that had once guarded the prison and fed on the inmates in decades past, the cold stone walls of Azkaban had a way of stripping one's very essence away.  Most days, it felt like he could barely recall who he was once, as if his old self had faded long ago, and all that was left was an empty shell of himself.  But Jingleberry, with all of her unfiltered, acerbic charm, was better than anyone else at helping him remember.  The lawyer had become an anchor back to himself.

She exploded into the room in a burst of energy, bustling and straight to the point.  But this time, her assessment of his situation made him shift uncomfortably.  Once the date of his hearing had been set, and slowly began to creep closer and closer, Enid had brought up his appearance at every meeting with increasing directness.

To date, he'd ignored it.  The thought of cleaning himself up was more frightening than it had any right to be.  If he went through all of this, if he tried to reclaim his sense of self again and then this appeal fell through, he knew how badly it would hurt.  He'd fall apart all over again.

He swallowed, but gave a small nod, acquiescing.  It was time to try and be himself again.

At least Enid could be trusted to bring something of the outside world with her.  He didn't waste any time in reaching for the offered food.  The announcement of summit extra made his eyes brighten.

"Don't get me in trouble for contraband," he countered, flashing her a quick grin as he picked it up.

The admonition didn't stop him from digging in, either to the food or the drink.  "How is it going?" he asked her, in between bites.  "The preparations for the hearing?"  He already knew, more or less.  Enid was the only one who communicated with him regularly, even when she didn't always have time to visit in person.  But there was still something reassuring about hearing an update directly from her.

“Well, I didn't think you were asking about my husband’s gout, lad.” Enid chuckled and sat down opposite her client once she'd pulled a second cup out for herself and placed it beside the pile of parchment. “He’ll be fine when he stays off the spicy foods.” The Irish woman gave a grin and took a sip of her own hot drink, strong tea, no sugar, tiny tipple of milk.

“We’re all set, I reckon. Blazing ahead ready for Tuesday.” This was probably one of Enid's more interesting cases. Auror accused to turning but claiming innocence throughout his life sentence. She was coming to the rescue to set the record straight and free him. It didn't actually matter to Enid if her client was innocent; it was great publicity and his family were paying her handsomely. If she could get this guy out, everyone would want her on their side.

“I've liaised with our witnesses. A couple o’family members, yer old partner. Kingstreet is never going to be ready but that helps our case. She hates you, kid, and your Genny seems to have really driven her wild. But don't ye ferget, Leo, yer fergivin, ye just want justice finally done so he can move on wit’yer life. Don't go giving her that death glare ye’ve clearly been workin’ on.”

Tuesday.  Two days away.  He swallowed harder than he needed to, narrowly missing sending a bite of egg and bread down the wrong way. 

It felt unsettling to think about anything happening in such immediate terms.  Here in Azkaban, he'd counted days between notable happenings by the hundreds and thousands.  And yet now, his once-unexpected chance at freedom was so narrowly close that it was practically upon him.

Enid breezed through her list of preparations.  Most of the time in these matters, all he could do was nod.  Since she'd taken his case a few months prior, his new defense lawyer had taken it upon herself to handle everything: contacting witnesses, managing court dates, planning the defense.  Oftentimes, it felt as if he were simply a spectator in his bid for freedom.

He continued to chew as the lawyer ran through the witnesses she intended to call, washing down the bite with a sip of something extra.  Family.  His old partner.  People he hadn't seen in over a decade, who probably hadn't thought of him in years.  It felt very much like a broom ride that had gotten away from him, and he was left clinging to the bristles for dear life.

But the mention of Kingstreet...

Something flickered over his face, and he looked up mid-bite at the lawyer.

"Can we do this without her taking the stand?"  Having Theodora Kingstreet testify was the whole point, he knew.  Their entire strategy for his defense hinged on the fact that his prosecutor had believably falsified evidence. But now, after mulling over the ramifications of Roh's visit from a few weeks before, he wasn't sure if his freedom was worth the price.  "Can't you present evidence on her misdeeds instead?"

Something changed in her client at the mention of Kingstreet. That was normal. Few people coped well with her being brought into any sort of conversation. Theodora Kingstreet was a name that Enid had witnessed inspiring fear in anyone from aurors to the general public. A wonder really, for such a maniac. She’d been told about the visit Gamp’s wife had made to the former lawyer, and she’d heard of the suspicions regarding the death of an Azkaban guard being related. It was all delightfully intriguing.

“Not ideal.” The lawyer muttered, shaking her head. “The wizengamot need to see how she’s turned out. Let’s leave them in no doubt. It’s a question of how much ye want out, Leo. I’m good but I doubt even I can do as good a job as the lady herself in proving her madness.”

Another sip of tea and she sat back.
“So, a few former colleagues first. Set the groundwork on the type of auror ye were. Diligent, hardworking, caring. Then Kingstreet. We’ll keep that one super short. Don’t need to give her a forum, a couple of minutes before she gets dragged off, I reckon. Then yer wife.” Now, Enid did frown. She paused, placed her teacup down and folded her arms. “She’s the only one I can’t predict. May be better off cutting her out and relying on t’others.”

He hesitated, regarding his lawyer silently.  Not ideal, she had said.  Kingstreet's madness was the grounding anchor of his quest for freedom.   He largely suspected that it was why Enid had taken up his case: the closest thing they had to a surefire argument to invalidate his conviction.  Back then, when the lawyer had first suggested it, involving the mad administrator had seemed like a risk worth taking.

But that had been before.  Before Dante, before Roh, before Genny and her idiocy had put them all at risk again.  Was his freedom worth the danger he was creating for his son?  A son that he had never met, but somehow felt like he already knew.

But then the moment to turn back was gone, slipped away and out of reach as Enid moved on to her other preparations.  Troubled, he lowered his eyes and took another bite.  That was the way of things here in Azkaban.  He was merely a passenger, passively floating down a great, rushing river, as the forces all around him jostled him and steered his course where they wanted it to be.

"Then yer wife.”  Enid was frowning now.  He knew that that was a sign that she was really serious.  "She’s the only one I can’t predict. May be better off cutting her out and relying on t’others.”

He managed a weak, rueful smile.  "I could never predict her either," he replied, a bit dryly.  He shrugged, looking back down at the bap as he took another bite.  Without quite swallowing all the food, he continued, a tiny spray of crumbs accompanying his words.  "She'll say whatever she thinks fits her story best and puts her in the best light.  If she thinks we're going to win, then she'll be on our side so that she can play the part of the dutiful, remorseful wife."

Of course Gamp was worried about Kingstreet appearing at the trial. Any sane wix would be. The former lawyer turned maniac was now, as Leo had informed her, being looked at for the murder of an Azkaban guard linked to Genevieve Gamp. They had a son together who was, up until yesterday, safely kept behind the gates of Hogwarts Castle. Now, at his mother’s apartment in Diagon Alley, he was vulnerable and Leo Gamp knew it.

There was, however, no choice. Kingstreet needed to be at court on Tuesday and Enid had fought tooth and nail to make it happen.

Fortunately, Gamp didn't fight the change in topic to his wife, and admitted having never been able to predict the witch. On brief meeting, she'd seemed the sort, but not who Enid would have matched up with Leo. He'd been grounded and hardworking individual while his wife? She seemed like quite the opposite.

“Well you need to convince her that you're winning this one, dear.”  Enid leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table between them. Merlin, seeing someone else eat was quite revolting; especially when their manners seemed to have been left on the boat on the trip to Azkaban. “Even if she doesn't help with the case, her being on side will help when you get out. What your wife writes, people read and they believe.” Grey eyebrows rose. “What do you want her writing, Leo?”

What did he want Genevieve writing?  He'd given up any hope of reconciliation with his wife over a decade ago.  Gen had refused to stand by him when he'd been put on trial and then convicted; worse than that, she'd been part of the prosecution's case against him.  After being abandoned to the cold stone walls of Azkaban for so long, it was gratifying to think of forcing himself back into her life, demanding that she quit her job and live life according to his rules.  But did he want that?

He was silent for a moment, resting the breakfast sandwich against the paper wrapper.  Genevieve's pen gave her power.  Even after Enid had given him a glimmer of hope that his time in Azkaban might have an endpoint, freedom had always been so distant that he'd never really allowed himself to think about what life might be like if he got out.  If Gen decided to stoke public sentiment against him, it would make any kind of life that much harder.

It would make seeing Dante harder.

He sighed, and then raised the bap to take another bite.  He chewed slowly, finally swallowing.

"I'll write to her," he said, and then glanced at Enid.  The post from Azkaban was notoriously slow, and there weren't too many days left until his hearing.  "If you think you can get the letter out.  I assume you have suggestions on what I should say?"

“Good lad.” Enid smiled and nodded, picking up her quill and scribbling a quick note. “Of course, I can get it out. I’m yer lawyer. I can do whatever I bloody think will serve yer case.” Now, Enid’s attention was on her little checklist. “You’re her husband, Leo, that’s your domain,” The lawyer waved her hand, appearing somewhat disinterested as she peered down through the glasses perched on the end of her nose.

“Tell her ye love her, how ye want to move on fresh after this. Yer lookin’ fer vindication. Ye don’t have to mean it. Feckin’ hell if Patrick did that t’me I’d make him pay. But you want to see your son and you’ve said she’s grand at manipulating stories.” All this was muttered to the parchment as she ticked through a few things. “I need an address where you’ll be staying if we do win.” Green eyes flashed up, eyebrows once more raised. “Yer parents?”

Enid painted a pretty picture with her words.  In another life, she and Genny might have found parallels in each other.  But they would never have been friends.  Enid was too ruthless; his wife too self-centered.  They would have been like a match and an oil lamp, if they were ever to spend too much time together.

But the lawyer had a point.  If he wanted to see Dante, spending time with his son would be much more easily accomplished if Genny was willing to cooperate.  When she'd come to see him the last time, his wife had clearly been trying to mend the chasm between them.  Perhaps it was time to accept her offer of a tentative truce.

Enid had moved on to the next item on her list: where he'd be staying after the trial.  That was another question he'd not dared to think about before.  Even now, imagining what could be his first night outside of Azkaban felt unreal.

He paused.  His parents' home was the easy answer.  But perhaps not the best.

"Give them Genny's address," he said with a slow smile.  "That will look better to the court, don't you think?"

Enid Jingleberry had been a lawyer for 50 years. As can be imagined, after many cases of varying degrees of outrageousness, little succeeded in surprising her. Few things really interested her. Leo Gamp’s case, however, was interested. And the address he opted for her to give the court? Well, that was surprising.

The lawyer raised her eyebrows at her client, clearly disbelieving.
“It needs to be an address ye’ll be stayin’ at, Love.” Enid had met Leo’s ‘Genny’ and there was no way that that witch was about to let him into her home, even after a little grovelling should she choose to visit him before the trial. “The court would approve, but they will check, and if that isn’t your place of residence, you’re answering some difficult questions.”

His expression turned sullen, but he hid it quickly, shaking his head.  This wasn't the time to antagonize Enid or ignore her strongly-worded advice, not mere days before his hearing.  When she'd first come to meet him several months ago, he'd never believed that they'd get this close; but here they were, and in two days' time, he might leave the Wizengamot court a free man again.

"My parents', then," he said, just a bit petulantly.  He was still angry at his parents as well; they'd been complicit in hiding Dante from him, even if they claimed to have never lost faith in his innocence.  But he had spent the past thirteen years swallowing difficult potions in Azkaban.

Swallowing hard, he looked back to Enid, reaching for the mug that she'd brought him.  "What else?"

“Good.” Enid smiled at the clearly unimpressed wizard. He made the right decision with a little gentle coaxing. Enid was not going to all this bother only for him to stubbornly impose on his wife and end up back in Azkaban when the situation no doubt ended up blowing up. She needed to get paid first. And help him be suitably compensated. Then all the bother would have been worth it.

“Just a few notes, really.” As she spoke, Enid dipped into her bag and withdrew a sheet of parchment, a quill and inkpot. “Write your letter, dear. Then I can go and I’ll see to it that it finds your wife tonight.” She passed them over to him and stood, pacing the room as she continued. “You need to control yourself on Tuesday. Don’t react to whatever our witnesses or the Wizengamot have to say. You are there as an impassive observer. Got it?”

“The media will want comments, regardless of the outcome. If the trial goes our way, arrange some interviews. Get your story out there. I’m leaving you to that bit. In the meantime, try to relax. You might be bored now, but when you get out, it will be overwhelming.”

Sort himself out, write a letter to his beloved wife, prepare to control himself, and then try to relax.  He might have snorted if it hadn't been so serious, if the rest of his life didn't hang in the balance.  Whatever happened on Tuesday, either he'd be a man renewed or these cold stone walls would be all that he had left for his future.

Green eyes found hers, and he bowed his head slightly.  "I have no doubt," he said, managing a faint smile as he raised the mug to take a sip.  "Hopefully this is the last time you'll need to bring me a kick of something extra with breakfast."

Soon, one way or the other, this would be sorted.  He'd walk free, back to his son and the life that he should have had all along, or this last glimmer of hope would fade away and he'd be back with nothing ahead but the monotony of Azkaban.

Two days to go.