Ackerly had made his decision two days ago, sitting in the hospital room at St. Mungo's, Isabel terrified by his side- begging him not to leave. She'd begged him not to leave throughout their entire marriage- but he'd never listened to her. He'd always gone to work, left her at home with the kids, without him. And, ironically, at the end of it, she was the one who left permanently. It still hurt. He still loved her. And when he was sitting there, watching her suffer, it finally hit him that he actually gave a damn about his family. He kept thinking about what if Lucy had been there, what if Bax had been there? What if that monster had hurt his children. Ackerlys ex-wife could have done do nothing to stop him, her muggle husband could have done nothing. But if he had been there- if he had chosen his family over his career so many years ago- he could have been there, could have stopped it, could have protected her.

It didn't take long for them to figure out who had done it. The staff at St. Mungo's had wanted to Obliviate Joshua, but Ackerly had talked them out of it. They extracted his memory- a condemning piece of evidence against the bastard who had done it. Ackerly had told them that Joshua needed to remember, needed to know what had happened. He had to be able to accept Ackerly's new role in his family's life- without the memories of what had happened, Joshua wouldn't. He'd won that argument. And since he was an auror, he'd thrown that around- using his position to get his way. That was something he rarely did, but this was too serious to just let go.

Ackerly was going to tell Raynor right away what his decision was. But yesterday had been April Fool's Day- and he was worried his resignation would seem like a sick joke. Ackerly had also needed to be sure. But he hadn't gone to work the day before. He was going to let the others handle this case, and he knew if he was there that he couldn't stay out of it. And he couldn't be there to protect his ex-wife, his little girl- and Joshua, he supposed. His job right now was to protect his family. The only thing that Ackerly had done was visit his son at Hogwarts- promising him things would be different, that he was going to be there to take care of his mom and is little sister. He hadn't wanted Baxter to learn about what had happened from the prophet or from some auror trainee sent out.

There was too much death and destruction lately. And when the werewolf attacks had happened earlier in the month, Ackerly wasn't even able to help- he'd been stuck at his desk filing the paper work. But at least it had proven his point. Werewolves were dangerous. They weren't cuddly. There was a serious breakdown somewhere along the lines- something was wrong with the law if stuff like that could happen. But he wasn't in a position to fix the laws. But at least people sympathized with him now, understood why he felt the way that he did. When you saw Werewolves attacking and killing innocent children- you learned not to like them.

He stood outside of the head aurors office for a few moments, aware that a few of the aurors were either avoiding looking his way entirely, or being overly obvious about staring at him. It wasn't every day that threats against the ministry were carried out in such a violent moment.

Ackerly took a deep breath, then opened the door to her office. This was a life changing decision. When he left this room, the life he'd lived for twenty years was going to be over. He was going to have to start over- but it was worth it. To protect Isabel, to protect Lucinda, to protect Baxter. And, he supposed, to protect the man that his wife and children loved- his replacement.

His badge was tucked into his clenched fist. And, with his head held high, he walked up to Raynor's desk. And, without a moment's hesitation, he carefully placed his badge down on it. "I have to make the right choice this time," he said with confidence. "Ever since I joined the auror corp, my priority has been protecting the public. I have put this job, the cases, the public safety ahead of myself and my family. I can't keep doing it anymore- or I am going to lose them. I know what I signed up for, Raynor, and I can't do this anymore. They're my family, it's my job to protect them, and I failed. They need me more than you need me, more than the public needs me. I've made my decision." He gave her a respectful nod, and without giving her a proper chance to retort (she might speak after his back was turned, but he had no intentions of stopping), Ackerly walked out of her office. He flicked his wand to clear his desk, everything packing neatly into a box, and then rested a stack of scarlet robes on top of it. Ackerly's life as an auror was over. And his life as a father, as a family man, was just beginning... Unfortunately it was beginning fourteen years too late.

A hush hung over the Auror Office like a shroud. One could imagine that they could hear the quills scratching across numerous sheets of parchment – another sign not all was not well. It was not a death watch, at least not a physical one, but the subdued atmosphere could only mean one thing; Ackerly Fox was back. And by the way the Headquarters grew progressively more and more quiet, as if someone was magically lowering the volume, he was heading for the Head Auror’s threshold.

The woman whose office was in question stood leaning against her desk from within, her back to the doorway and facing the fireplace that burned year-round. The men and women out yonder did not yet have the full story of what had occurred between Dugan MacDuff and Fox’s family. They would have to be informed, and soon. They had to be given a chance to take precautionary measures of their own. They knew that not very long after Raynor had warned them this battle may become personal, that it had become so for Fox in a very reality altering way. What they did not know was that the attacker had promised that it was about to become very personal for all of them. She had no intentions of keeping that from the Aurors, of keeping this criminal from the news, but Ackerly Fox needed time. And Tamis Raynor needed to know what he planned on doing.

But she already knew. It had been written all over his usually stoic face two nights ago as he sat there in the hospital with his ex-wife and her new significant other. She, in all the years she had known him, could not recall the tall, imposing man ever looking so dazed, so uncontrolled, as if the meaning of life had abruptly slapped him across the face. And hard. She knew what that face had meant.

She could not judge him. Or any of the Aurors in the coming days. Raynor had lost those dear to her heart many years ago, anything she had left for an enemy to take from her inhabited Level Two – one or two outliers excluded. She did not have to consider family; children did not factor into the equation. When it came down to it, she had less at stake than almost everyone else wearing a badge. It was not her place to judge.

Yet, when she felt more than heard her door pushed open and the resigned yet not hesitant heavy footsteps across the carpet, she could not hinder the sinking feeling in her stomach. She did not turn, not yet, not even as he placed his badge on her desk. She just watched the fire, and listened.

The Auror Office did need him, but it was not a bargaining chip. Ackerly Fox and Tamis Raynor never saw quite eye to eye – and not just because of the vast height difference. He was older than her, more experienced, and debatably more accomplished. When it came down to promotions, it was MacDonell’s favorite that had been granted the Head Auror rank, for various reasons. She had never asked Fox if the job had been something he had wanted or if it was something he resented. But even if they had not always agreed, they had always been a good balance. He had never outright challenged her orders or decisions, but he had always pushed her and asked the right questions to make sure she believed in the actual choices she was making.  He was a good man, a good auror. She had never contested that.

His family needed him more, he said? Perhaps that was true.

Her fingers curled around the discarded badge, let the weight of the goblin gold rest against her palm. It was familiar, a brother to any of the badges currently in circulation, but it felt cold; dead. It did not have the residual hum of a badge currently bonded with an Auror[1]. It was dormant and freely given. He meant what he said.

“Ackerly…” The use of his first name as the woman turned around was important. He did not stop, he kept walking. She had not expected him to stop. There was a lot she could say in those few seconds where he might still be listening and her chance to say them was quickly vanishing.

“…Take care.”

And she meant it.



Fin.

1.	See Auror Badges