Conference Room, 1415 hours


Solomon Carstairs checked his watch - it was still another quarter of an hour before both his personal assistant and the McBoids[1] were due to arrive. Reid did not work Saturdays so he had yet to see her, and was reluctant to do so in any case. Morgenthau had dropped by yesterday to mention that the exorcisms were 'visceral but effective'[2] and it had been a nasty reminder of what might soon await Iona.

He straightened his robes, pacing the length of the room and pausing at a chart of wanted criminals, the Leanders amongst them. It was an old chart; Musgrave had been ticked off, Almasy crossed in red marker. Sol was looking forward to doing one or the other with the siblings.

The door clicked open and he turned around, hands in pockets, a thoughtful and grim smile on his lips.

"Ah," Solomon greeted the first of the arrivals. "Come in. I thought I might personally supervise introductions this afternoon." He believed that he owed Iona as much, after all she had revealed to help them in their investigations. A personal touch and a final farewell to her former life, friends, family.

1.	22nd November - Not Your Average Funeral
2.	25th November - Things in There that Scream and Shout

The past few days had felt longer than normal, with the appointed meeting looming in the distance. In some ways Duncan had been dreading it. Not only would it be held in a building he preferred to avoid but it would be an official goodbye and ending. Assuming it wasn't all a lie, though he didn't know why they would go to such lengths for a hoax.

Every day he made time to stop in and check on Donnan. The old man probably got annoyed with him about it. He preferred to see for himself that his uncle was still as okay as possible.

Making his way through the Ministry to the appointed conference room turned out to be no trouble. He hadn't been in the building in over ten years but Duncan found he still knew the layout as though it were yesterday. Some of the horror witnessed here crept into his mind as he navigated the halls.

Seeing Carstairs turn to greet him when he entered, Duncan made sure none of his misgivings or memories showed. "Yes, thank you again. Duncan McBoid, I'm not sure if you remember me." They had both been in the Resistance.

"The others will be along a little later. There were some things they needed to talk about first."

            "I'm not sure if you remember me."

"Duncan," Solomon offered his hand to shake, repeating the name in recognition, "of course. Yes." Although he did not like to linger for too long on memories of the wars, he couldn't forget the people who made their futures possible. Their interaction had been glancing but Sol knew the face well enough and was grateful to be reminded of the name.

All these McBoids littered in his past and present!

"Abby Reid should be along shortly," he continued as he gestured at the chairs, inviting the other wizard to have a seat. "If we're very lucky, I'm certain Iona will come out to play. I'll step out if or when she does," Solomon added with a smile. "Give the family some privacy."

Or as much as he could. Reid would still be privy to whatever might happen in this room today; an outsider and unwitting witness.

On a quiet Saturday at the Ministry, Abby stepped out of the floo on Level 8, and smoothed her soft blue robe and tucked back her wavy red hair behind her ears and walked quickly to the lifts.

She was early. She was rarely early. Abby was nervous. Abby had never been so nervous. Her palms were clammy, her heart raced, her stomach clenched. Since August, she’d walked into the Ministry every weekday feeling different from the wixes, had sat in meetings and gone out with friends and gone to places alone and survived fancy family dinners and other complicated social obligations. More often than not she dragged others into social situations, and yet, she’d never been so nervous to meet the McBoids.

It was partly the pentral’s fault. Iona was utterly terrified to face her own family. How would they react?

Abby feared that Iona's family might resent her just as Abby's family resented Iona. They would look at her and wish she would just go away so Iona could live. It was irrational, but grief did not make for rational behavior. Abby was the one living her life while Iona hid in the back of her mind, she had a whole life ahead of her, she’d squandered her life, she was the one Iona had saved, she had saved herself, she had come home to her family, she hadn't come home, she’d trusted the wrong people, she'd suffered enough, she was just a squib-

-just a fragmented soul, just a pentral, Iona echoed Abby’s thoughts.

Be nicer to yourself, Abby admonished Iona as they stepped onto Level Two, and let the thought sit there, and let her mouth curve up at the corners.

She poked her head into Carstairs' waiting room first, hoping her boss would walk into the conference room with her. Abby moved towards his office, glancing at his vacant desk and at the near-empty glasses there. Disappointment and nerves fluttered in her stomach. Abby looked at her own desk, touching the paperweight that Aileen had given her as she passed by. Her sister would be arriving at the Ministry soon. She insisted on waiting for Abby in the atrium in case she was needed.

I will be there, Aileen had said. You can choose to walk right past me after your meeting, but that would be quite rude. I’ll just be sitting at a table, sipping lukewarm tea and judging the décor and worrying about you.

What could Abby say to that?

As she neared the conference room and waved at a few of the Aurors stuck working over the weekend, the pentral retreated, leaving her alone in the quiet of the hall, with her heart sounding loud in her ears and her mind going blank.

Abby walked in. Abby barely registered the wall chart, gaze fixing on Solomon Carstairs with a flicker of relief and gratitude.

“Hello, Mr. Carstairs,” she managed. Then her gaze shifted and stilled on the other man.

She was expecting Angus, or Iona’s father, or even Moira, someone she already knew or had met once before. Abby glanced in surprise at the rather built man who overshadowed the table even seated. He looked like he spent a lot of time outdoors. His eyes were direct and honest.

Duncan, Iona whispered in her mind, then faded again.

Abby moved forward and pulled out the chair across the table from him. She hesitated, then leaned over the table and held out a hand to shake.

“Abby,” she introduced herself with a quick, nervous smile. “You must be Moira’s uncle.”

Her hand was small, fingers chilled. Nails bitten to the quick, much like Iona’s had been.

Duncan shook Carstairs hand, nodding in respect at the returned recognition, then took a seat at one of the offered chairs.

“Of course, the last thing we want is to overwhelm either of them. They know you, so it’s good you’re here to introduce us.”

He had dipped his head to the man again as a silent thanks for the offer of privacy. That was exactly what he was hoping for. If Iona came out to speak with them emotions would be high and very raw.

The Scotsman also wanted to find out who exactly to hold responsible for her murder and the barbaric, dark act performed on her soul. The wanted posters on the wall had caught his eye, along with the otherwise plain walls and seating arrangements. Perhaps they were among them.

Not much time at all had passed before a young woman with red hair came in. The lass was extremely nervous, if he was any judge, so he attempted to make himself as non intimidating as possible.

Duncan stayed seated and accepted her hand, his grip firm but gentle, and offered a small but warm smile. "Aye, Ms. Reid, I am. I wanted to thank you as well for agreeing to a meeting. I know none of this can be easy."

Releasing her chilled hand from his warm one, the wizard sat back once again, relaxing his posture and appearing to be completely at home.

So far, so good.

Solomon's eyes crinkled as he smiled at his personal assistant when she arrived. It was strange to think that someday she would be free of her pentral and a different version of Abby Reid would manifest - not quite the squib he knew now but another one altogether. Probably one who would not wish to stay on in his department, considering the confused memories already associated with it.

"Is your other half feeling particularly forthcoming today?" he asked her, standing behind a chair with a hand on its back and another casually in his pocket.

Whatever that entailed. Family reunions were tense, as a rule, and Merlin knew how much worse it could be when one family member was technically on the other side of death. He didn't envy a single person in this conference room.

"There shall be two officers  outside the door. If necessary," Sol informed Abby, wanting to prioritise her well-being, "call out and they'll be right in to assist. Should you feel overwhelmed at any point, it's your prerogative to desist. I'm just down the corridor if you need me."

He wanted her to know this was safe for her. Not for Iona but for Abby, who was after all a squib being left alone in a room with a wizard she did not personally know.

"Of course," Abby offered, surprised at Duncan's graciousness and manners. It was a simple thing, but in this situation she hadn't known what to expect. "It's not easy for anyone here," she hesitated. "But she wanted to see you."

Iona did. Abby wanted to meet the McBoids for a different reason, to get an idea of how they felt about this miracle and curse that she and her pentral were living.

"She's nervous," she smiled back at her boss, understanding that he'd arranged the meeting to make her most comfortable. It was a little embarrassing, and she hoped Duncan didn't feel offended, but she appreciated it. Abby imagined that Carstairs was personally overseeing the introductions because he cared about both her and Iona, and that he was making up for that hex, which she forgave him for in that very moment. Her eyes met his with a flicker of the same ease and trust that she'd had in him earlier in November.

Iona didn't forgive as easily, but she too, met his eyes and she gave a nod.

"Thank you," they said. "Sir," Abby added.

Slowly, she moved in her seat to face Duncan across from her, straightening her back and feeling a little like a kid at the wrong dining table. Abby clasped her hands on her lap to stop herself from biting her nails. He appeared comfortable and calm.

As the seconds ticked by, her gaze sharpened inquisitively. She glanced over his face, noticing the scruff on his jaw and the few lines of strife around his eyes. Iona peeked through Abby's light brown eyes and approved of his relaxed manner and the calluses on his hands. Her eyes met his green gaze, awareness flashing there. But then Abby blinked and Iona hid again, offering her thoughts from a less emotional distance.

"She says," Abby took a breath, "that she's glad to see you looking well and that she's proud of you for leaving the confines of the Ministry and she wants to make sure you're not getting into pub fights."

Abby pursed her mouth, trying not to laugh inappropriately.

Duncan watched the exchange between Carstairs and Reid, curiously, until the older wizard moved to leave the room[1]. “Thank you again, Carstairs.” His gratitude echoed the lass’.

Silently he considered the young woman before him. Two souls trying to share one body. For both of them he was glad the relationship was not as catastrophic as it had been for others. Not all the stories he heard came from the papers.

There was a flicker in her eyes, something different before fading again to their soft brown.

He offered her a smile again as Reid tried not to laugh, “Not in pubs, anyway.” Truthfully, he didn't get into that many fights at all anymore. Occasionally there were stress-relieving fights with Angus but otherwise they were only in no-choice scenarios.

Duncan didn't respond to the comment about leaving the Ministry though. While he wasn't shy about his distrust, it seemed a dangerous thing to talk about inside the actual Ministry. He was probably just paranoid.

“Iona was always trying to get me out if trouble, probably as much as I tried to get in it. I feel like I had more success,” considering the number of detentions and lectures he'd had.

1.	Okayed by Nuri!

Not in pubs. Abby quirked her eyebrow, curious about what such an agreeable sort could get into, but Iona believed it immediately. She looked at him, remembering him when he was a scrappy young kid who would disappear into the wilderness and come back with a few scratches and bruises and a smile on his face. Lori had left the scolding to Iona and had simply told him to bring back a good story to tell around the summer bonfires. Bring back a story, for she wouldn't be joining them in their adventures.

Abby's gaze drifted to the chart on the wall behind Duncan, settling on the names listed there. They'd removed the pseudonyms Lori and Lee Lilly and replaced them with the true names of the criminals: Lorelei and Leander Hunt. Her gaze snapped back to Duncan, and Iona wondered how much he remembered of the Hunt siblings, if anything. Lorelei had been expelled by the time Duncan had come to Hogwarts, but he might remember Leander as the seventh year that Iona had spent every second with her sixth year. She would stop by the Gryffindor table to tug sharply on Duncan's ear and admonish him for his detentions, and then march to the staff table and try to get him out of it.

At the Ministry, she'd expected to admonish him there too, but he'd grown up in the years they were apart and put his energy into work. The sight of her younger cousin had brightened her days, walking the Ministry halls with such purpose and optimism. Iona hadn't ever considered burdening him with her troubles.

"You did when you were younger," Abby finally answered, a strange note to her voice that wasn't her own.

Her shoulders squared as she crossed her arms loosely in front of her.

"Now you're keeping others out of trouble, or trying to," Iona met his gaze, the corner of her mouth twitching up. Her brown eyes seemed to steady, looking sad but steely in the light.

"We McBoids don't make things easy, do we."

“I always did, in my own way.”

Many, though not all, of his fights had been for injustices. An unkind word, a group of boys hurting frogs for fun, or even an ugly look had all led him down that path.

His parents had speculated if he might become an auror one day, a different path for someone in the clan. However, like many of them, Duncan had more of an affinity for beasts and other creatures. He took up the task of fighting for them.

At her statement he nodded his head and met her gaze, noting her new stance. It seemed familiar to him, with the lass appearing slightly more confident than before. Even her voice had subtly changed.

“Well, life would be far less fun if we did.” No one ever heard of adventures from those who always played it safe.

Duncan wished Iona had played it a bit more safe. Since learning her fate, several scenarios had played through his mind. Iona kidnapped when walking home, lured away by some false pretense, or even betrayed by people close to her. Had she known something evil was lurking? Had she really been happy or just pretending?

The Scotsman wanted to be gentle with her. He wanted to ease into everything as painlessly as possible, but one question had been burning at him more than any other since he got the letter. One he couldn’t let remain unanswered. “Iona… who did this to you?”

There it was. She'd known this question would come, but she'd hoped for more time to look at him, her little troublemaker of a cousin turned into a steady grown man. Was he happy, was he taking enough breaks from work, was he seeing friends at those pubs that he didn't fight at, was he seeing anyone? She had so many questions. She opened her mouth, belatedly, unable to settle on a question to ask. It was difficult still, knowing the right order of things and voicing them in the pattern of the living.

She should have stood from her chair and hugged him before he asked the question that would change everything. She should have hid for longer, and let Abby talk for her.

"I can't tell you that, Duncan," she leaned back in her seat, her arms crossing more tightly, and glanced quickly at the door. The walls had ears, the trainees always liked to joke.

She wasn't supposed to, not that she cared much about what she was supposed to do in this situation. If it really mattered to Level Two, they wouldn't have left her alone with her family who would no doubt ask for names.

Her face froze in a strange, unhappy mask, looking at the table, dreading his judgment, expecting it, and thinking she could stay like this forever and no one could blame her then. If she didn't speak and didn't move, what could they do? Nothing. The words she was afraid to speak would disappear.

And so would she, and this time, this only time that she had to look at him and miss him, would be gone too.

Iona drew in a breath and glanced up, looking past him at the chart of names on the wall. Musgrave, Almasy, and finally, Lorelei and Leander Hunt.

"Though if you were to make a lucky guess, there's nothing I could do about it, is there," she said slowly, letting her gaze linger on the chart, then back at Duncan, then at the chart again, then meaningfully back at Duncan.

She raised her eyebrows. Go on, Gryffindor.

Duncan caught her glance at the door, seeming to share some of his other concerns. That was curious. He didn’t think she had anything to mistrust the Ministry for. Maybe it was more to do with them being part of an open case. Level Two tended to be very tight lipped about those.

When she went still, frozen like a statue, he waited patiently, continuing the pretense of being at ease in his own chair.

He followed her gaze to the names on the wall he hadn’t heard before in the papers. One of them had been the boy Iona was dating. Duncan studied the chart for a moment, before nodding and turning back around to look at her again.

If the two of them were using pentrals, pictures were likely useless in this case. Knowing them if they crossed paths would be almost impossible. In this case he’d take a note out of Donnan’s, and Iona’s, book and do some research on spells regarding a person’s true form or nature.

“You know my streak when it comes to luck, Iona.” The wizard didn’t clarify more than that just in case anyone was listening in. If they were, it would be natural to assume Duncan meant he had terrible luck instead of the opposite. Luck and skill had helped see him through many situations, past and present included.

“Only fair, anything you want to ask me?” He offered her an easy smile, “More than one is fine.”

Had he seen the names? She didn't understand. Did he understand?

Iona nodded after a long moment, catching his comment about luck. He was luckier than most. He'd survived the second war without her. She wished she had been there to help him through it and to have her family's back.

She stared at him questioningly when he smiled, offering her a chance to take a step back in time and ask. Iona rose and moved around the table to sit in the seat next to him. It was a step, a start. She swiveled her chair towards him, and glanced to the side, her jaw tense with the effort of holding back sudden tears. Her questions were still there, hovering in her head, but she could no longer reach them. She couldn't go back in time.

She needed to know if he'd seen and understood. He needed to know it was okay to feel.

"It's alright if you feel hurt, or upset, or angry. I'm hurt and angry and sad, always."

Her thumb ran over the groove on the edge of the table. The McBoids rarely showed their pain. Her mouth twisted to one side. She'd never been good at this, sharing and talking.

"You can show it. If they're listening, who cares?" She gave a defiant shake of her head. "They've heard my story again and again and again."

She met his eyes, fully aware of the space between them. His contained energy, her stillness. His full breaths, her chilled hands. She'd tell him if he wanted to hear it, if it wouldn't cause him too much pain. Better that than to have names swimming in his head and no context to tie them to.

Duncan watched as she crossed over to his side of the table and he turned his chair to face her as well. Even though they were closer now, the remaining gap between them might as well have been an ocean.

In the wilderness, aside from the passage from day to night, time almost disappeared. Everything lived, moved, and simply existed. Rest, food, and shelter were necessities but specific time did not matter.

That was not the case in the conference room in the Ministry of Magic. Here, Duncan was almost painfully aware of the seconds ticking away towards the end. The end to them being alone, the meeting, and Iona’s time in their world.

He wanted his cousin to live, to share in new adventures and create new memories. Staying like this, however, unable to pass on and live a half life was cruel to both Iona and the Reid lass. It couldn’t last.

“I imagine you are.” Duncan was as well. For years now he’d been the strong one in their fractured family. Visiting the stray members, who were mostly still connected to the rest of the family, along with Donnan. He had kept his brother pushing forward when he wanted to quit.

There were many emotions that ran through him in the course of a day. Some of those he shared and others he kept hidden away until he could safely let them out. As his gaze met his cousin’s (and Abby’s) some of those hidden emotions shone through.

The Scotsman considered her words for several short (long) moments. Iona had never been one to say anything she didn’t mean. How could he second guess her words now?

“Leander’s the one you were dating when you left Hogwarts, aye?”

Duncan faced towards her in his seat, emotion flickering in his eyes.

"Yes," she paused for a long moment, trying to read his expression. Did he want her to continue?

Iona hesitated, struggling with what to say. With the Aurors, she'd tried to focus on the facts and the sequence of events. She'd gone on a few tangents and had several emotional breaks, but she hadn't delved too deeply into her own reasoning or feelings. The story was tragic enough on its own and spoke for itself. They'd just needed to know what she remembered so they could understand and chase after the Hunt siblings.

Did Duncan need to know exactly what had happened? Would it help either of them? Probably not.

Abby stirred, gently urging her to talk, lending her open nature to Iona's voice. The seconds stretched on.

"Everything was good for years," Iona finally said, looking him in the eye. "Leander and I, we hardly ever fought. When we did, it was about his family coming around and asking for money and things, and I always felt like the one standing up to them, even though they scared me."

They'd rarely argued, and she hadn't seen that as unusual at the time. She'd just felt relieved that they didn't yell at each other like her parents had. She'd seen no sign that he was anything like his father or mother. He'd needed her a lot, and she'd found that tough to manage at times, frustrated that he didn't have his own friends or many interests outside of her, but she'd thought that she could handle that.

"I didn't notice it getting to the point where all we had was each other. Or if I did-" she cut herself off, shook her head.

They'd distanced themselves from his family, or tried to, and inadvertently she'd become distant with her family towards the end. She looked at Duncan in near apology, then glanced away, her hands clenched together in her lap.