“Mr Shufflebottom.” Evangeline Kuester, newly appointed Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement stepped into the tiny dark room. The Azkaban guard stood behind her in the door, but made no move to follow her in. Kuester had just found out how easy it was to access just about anywhere in her new job role, even if Azkaban was the last place on earth that she wanted to be right now. 13 years had passed since she’d last set foot on the tiny island in the North Sea, and she’d sworn to herself to never return. But this was important. She needed to know.
From the moment she stepped onto the boat, Eva had felt her stomach twist up in unbearable knots. Her hands were shaking and she felt deeply nauseous. This hadn’t changed as she followed the guard through the corridors.
Kuester was dressed in her usual professional attire. Shoulder length blonde hair in neat curls, with a thin blue scarf around her neck. Her black trouser suit was smartly cut, and she wore a set of professional robes over the top, a silver brooch holding them closed. The brooch had been enchanted to listen.
“Evangeline Kuester, Deputy Head of the DMLE. I’ve a few questions for you.” She offered the wizard sat in the uniform a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Behind her, the door slammed shut, and she drew in a breath, hands making fists, and fingernails digging into her palms as she heard the lock click.
It was eleven months since William Shufflebottom had been sentenced for his actions with the dementors and Lawrence Musgrave. His inability to defend himself, and lack of legal help had meant his trial
[1] had been short but convoluted.
Since then, Willy knew that his old school friend had turned himself in, but he hadn’t made it to Azkaban yet. News was scant at Azkaban, and being a gullible sort, Willy believed any news other prisoners conveyed from their families and legal help who visited.
He didn’t think he’d ever heard of this Kuester witch, and the fact someone from Magical Law Enforcement wanted to speak to him made him optimistic. He’d served eleven of his 79 month sentence in Azkaban, which left 68 months left, and if he managed to appeal, that could be shortened still. Maybe Madam Kuester would be here to let him know they had revised his sentence and he might see his little Susie and Jack before they were nearly of age.
“Hello there,” Willy greeted, somewhat incapacitated as the prisoner in the situation. His long straggly hair was long past his shoulders and his bug eyes had sunken into his face. Although it was not the first time he had spent in Azkaban, it was the longest sentence of his life and he wasn’t getting any younger.
“Is it about my appeal? Only I’ve been hearing things about appeals lately.” There’d been some heartening news of a long-term inmate getting out legitimately not so long ago, hadn’t there?
“Not exactly.” Kuester shook her head. Azkaban was hellish, and she could sympathise. “You would have to discuss an actual appeal with your lawyer.” She sat down and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “You are friends with Lawrence Musgrave, aren’t you? Anyone else in your circle?”
Willy’s bushy, unkempt eyebrows drew together and his shoulders rounded.
“I - I… no I don’t think so.”
“You don’t
think so? You don’t know who your friends are?”
“Well, see, is a bi’ ‘ard ter know in here, innit…”
Eva’s brows rose, somewhat thrown off by the accent and poor English.
“But before Azkaban? I know who my friends are, or were.”
“Oh, oh righ’” Willy appeared to agree. “I, suppose we were.” He stroked his uneven beard. “We were friends at school, me an’ him. Then not so much. Were a surprise when he go’ in touch again.”
“I bet. Good to reunite though, yes?”
“Well….” Willy paused for what was perhaps the first time in his life he’d actually contemplate what he should say. “Yeah.” He nodded. “Were thick as thieves at school ’til I leff…” He explained, using an unfortunate turn of phrase.
“I heard he turned in, but don’ hear much else. Is he here too now, d’ya know?”
“He did.” She offered a small nod and smile. “He’s being treated. He wasn’t well, Mr Shufflebottom.”
Willy nodded automatically, agreeing. He hadn’t
seemed well during those few months, but he’d been quite capable despite this.
“I .. I tried to protect him.” Willy offered. “From the dementors.”
“Did you? How so? There’s not much you can really do, is there?” Dementors weren’t exactly amenable to being controlled.
Willy brightened at the suggestion he could do something that another person thought was impossible.
“Oh bu’ there is!” He exclaimed, suddenly animated. “That’s why ‘e needed me Mrs Kuester.” He puffed his chest out.
The Azkaban prisoner looked alive all of a sudden.
“I were rotten at school, terrible. Not my interest, but there was always one thing I had bigger and better than anyone else.” He smiled, a line of yellow teeth that needed some careful attention flashed at Evangeline. “My patronus!”
The teeth. Eva’s blue eyes took those in for a very brief moment. The wizard looked generally awful and unkempt. It was quite amazing that he had a wife and children. Was she was dense as he appeared to be?
“Your patronus?” She looked incredulous. “Even a strong patronus can only do so much.”
“Yeh, but mine’s a
dragon.” Willy was telling the truth on this occasion, even if it did sound far fetched.
“Even Mr Gamp were impressed.”
Mr Gamp?
Mortimer Gamp!? Not Leo Gamp. He’d still been locked up. The other Gamps weren’t psychopaths. Kuester forced herself to school her expression, even if it could be surprise at the apparent dragon patronus.
“That is impressive.” She gave a self deprecating smile. “All I can summon up is a puff of white cloud. It’s a tricky spell.”
She were impressed! Willy seized this rare piece of good news from a stranger like a child seizes its favourite teddy. And he ran with it.
“Oh, I dunno,” he continued merrily, “I just think of me children, and my dearest Gladys-May,” there was a momentary blip in his expression, but as soon as he stumbled he got back up.
“Made it perfect for what we were doin’, you see. Movin’ dementors on. See,
I said a big ‘oover, like that net Mr Gamp had. We had t’explain what an ‘oover was to him an’ all.
[2] He don’ know muggle stuff.” The Hufflepuff’s mouth was running off like a leaky tap now, “He wanted some for research though. Ee’s mad an’ all, int he?” Willy looked to Eva for confirmation.
It took a moment for the German witch to realise that ‘oover’ meant Hoover, a muggle Vacuum cleaner. His accent wasn’t the easiest to decipher, but she was relieved that he was talking. He was eager to talk, at that. And when Shufflebottom confirmed the Gamp was mad, Kuester knew exactly which Gamp.
“That’s what they say.” She gave a shrug. “He wanted research on vacuum cleaners?” she knew that wasn’t true. But if it got the wizard to start explaining more, she could play along.
“Nooo,” Willy shook his head, as if he were lovingly correcting one of his children, “you know that net
[3] they had,” Willy tried to mime it out, “I ju’ said they should make an ‘oover version, like. Everyone thought it was a funny suggestion, even Mr Glass.”
And there it was. Kuester blinked, momentarily stunned. Fortunately, decades of practicing in the legal profession meant that she had a pretty decent poker face. She smiled, at his suggestion, of course.
“I can see that. Just suck them all up? I’m surprised they didn’t take that idea seriously.” People were always developing new spells and apparatuses.
“Hah, they didn’ even give us the net for a go.” Willy shook his head. “Jus’ wanted us to send them out to sea.” He chuckled to himself. “Me and Mr Musgrave. Two wizards agains’ all the dementors. Doin’ what the Ministry couldn’!” He was still pleased with himself. “But he didn’
tell them that though. We were helping and I ended up in
here.”
This turn was making Kuester feel even more nauseous. She’d half hoped that coming here would kill her suspicions, not increase them. What in Merlin’s name was Edwin Glass doing with Mortimer Gamp, Lawrence Musgrave and this fool?!
“That’s pretty unfair. If you were doing what you were told.”
He was warming to Mrs Kuester. Definitely warming. She were nice!
“We were, that’ were the deal.” Willy agreed. “But like yer said, Mrs Kuester, controllin’ dementors is tricky business. And when Mr Musgrave started … behavin’ odd… odder…” Shufflebottom visibly deflated, remembering the aurors turning up at the farm.
“We got rid of the dementors though!” Willy protested, “all of them, gone aren’t they.” He grinned, proud of his inexact achievement.
“Well, they’re certainly less of an issue now, Mr Shufflebottom.” She smiled before sitting back. “What I want to know is how you ended up with such an important role. I mean, all those ministry officials struggling and you just break out your dragon. How did that come about?”
“Right-o, well… “ Willy began, “Mr Musgrave asked me to come, like, to the house,” He could picture the posh house right now, smoking in the back garden. “Invited, honoured guests. Loads of people there…” Willy lied.
“Like who?” She chanced.
“Like, er…” He faltered, scrabbling to think of anyone, “you know, people.” He shrugged and avoided the question.
Don’t talk about Glass. Mr Musgrave had told him that if he got arrested, he wasn’t to talk about Glass. But Mr Musgrave was ill and… this lady seemed to believe him.
He sealed shut. Damn.
“Mr Gamp? Mr Glass?” She said as if it were an assumption. “It’s alright.” Kuester waved a hand, shaking her head. “Can’t have been much before your night with the hoover like net, can it?”
“We never go’ the net…” Willy maintained. “He told me no’ ta say about Mr Glass… ‘cause he would. When it were right.”
Bingo. Evangeline switched her look for one of concern. “Well, he’s not exactly had the chance, Mr Shufflebottom. Mr Musgrave is really not well.”
Willy looked up, sunken eyes all wide in alarm all of a sudden.
“Is he goin’ to be alrigh’?” He asked hurriedly. Sudden feeling of dread, that his hope that Mr Musgrave
would sort everything out. That he’d always had a plan and Willy would benefit once it worked. “Did Mr Glass geddim?”
“Hopefully he’ll be alright.” she answered the first question, ignoring the second. “They’re trying to fix him. But, I don’t know, if I’m honest. It’s pretty serious.” She couldn’t quite believe it, and her heart was going at ten to the dozen. She’d need to tell someone. Anyone. But who the hell could she trust enough to believe her?
[29th Dec] He Sings Like a Bird (Snapshot)