an artists' interpretation

“The woman was senile and hadn’t had a kneazle in many years, although it sounds by all accounts as if she cared more for that kneazle than any of her surviving family does for her. She should be in some sort of home.” While Valentina wasn’t always particularly fond of her family, it didn’t change the fact that she was indeed loyal to them - or at least to Sofiya, which would likely cause many of the people that knew her to faint. It was a strange thing for Valentina to realize, but at some point things in her life had changed so that every person left that she truly cared about was a hufflepuff.

Not that Goldstein knew that about her, just like she barely knew anything about him other than the fact he’d helped with the paintings and gone running to her when he found something out. “I’m not offended.” He’d likely seem more Ministry personnel than he cared for during that particular job. “Those portraits like attention, the unspeakables aren’t a chatty lot.” Which he should know, considering their job description.

Somehow, despite knowing the man worked with art, Valentina hadn’t expected him to sound so enthused about it and she blinked in bemusement in response to his undeniable interest in the subject. To each their own, she supposed. “We have items from Great Britain and Russia, mostly. A few odd Danish pieces.” Absolutely nothing from America, that was a point that had always been staunchly enforced, but no reason to mention what they didn’t have to offer.

Caleb gave a small laugh at the fact the woman didn’t own a kneazle. “If she has more than one she must be loaded. I had a friend that owned several kneazles and made a good living off of it.” It had been some time since he had seen her but it wasn’t a close enough relationship to send an owl over. There were only a few people that Caleb had met in the new country that held any significance to Caleb and most were the ones he knew from Illvermony. 

He had only applied to a place of art on a whim and out of habit to do things spontaneously. It was nothing like the job his father had put in line for him at the Ministry and was still dealing with the repercussions of going against his father. But the job had led him down a path that he couldn’t predict including investigating an illegal art trade with Patrick and investigating portraits in the Unspeakable Department. “I can see why. They need people to talk to. And maybe some vitamin c.”

“I heard about some Scandanavian pieces joining the exhibit as well. Hopefully, these purebloods have enough to show off as much as they say they do. I’ve been to enough parties around here and it seems they love to brag about their possessions. I went to a few houses for in house commissions and the state of some of these places would put even New York to shame. You have a house or something like that over here? I can barely afford the small shack I’m living in now.”

“Does he not?” Levi asked, making polite conversation. They’d given him a very Irish name that seemed fitting for his birthday, and that by itself was all the reason needed for it. Levi still hadn’t met Hilda, so he didn’t really know her heritage anymore than he knew Caleb’s. 

He laughed aloud at the mental image of the future. “Those moments will definitely make us wish for the ones we have now,” he agreed. Picturing Millie that old was almost impossible, partially because it required him to let go of now, to acknowledge that those days were coming and faster than Levi could ever think possible. He’d been told it by so many people who had older children. Time would march along whether Levi was ready or not.

Focusing on now seemed like a better plan. Levi stepped forward with a soft smile as he carefully reached out to take Seamus into his arms. “You see how my elbow almost makes a pillow for him?” he asked, shifting slightly to move that side closer to Caleb for him to see. “You were quite close. He probably wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, but this will keep your arm from falling asleep quite as easily.”

“Well, I’m as American as it gets. If I have anything it’s less than one fourth. As for Hilda, she’s been in Scotland all her life besides her schooling.” Caleb didn’t want to lie to someone like Levi, but even the words sliding out of his mouth were contradicting. He had no feelings towards Hilda to even think of sleeping with her, but knew enough about her to know what her origins were.

“Tell me about it. I knew I wouldn’t be the best around babies and already know I won’t be the best around teenagers. Perhaps the middle range is the toddler stage. Not too messy but not too much of an attitude yet.” He wasn’t even sure if he would see Seamus grow up. He hoped that he stayed connected to Hilda no matter what happened but it was Patrick he held his bundle of nerves over. 

Caleb allowed Levi to scoop Seamus out of his arms and he did it so carefully and effortlessly that Caleb just stood back and watched. He never imagined himself being a parent and he didn’t know what he was taking notes over. It seemed like a one day thing that he would even hold Seamus but he watched and focused as if a dad would. “Supports that head of his, I see. You can continue holding him if you would like.” 

Han furrowed his brows at Caleb’s word choice, but he didn’t protest. It sounded like Caleb was just warming up, and Han knew he could be a master of words when he wanted to. He just needed time to figure out how to say them. Instead Han leaned back in his chair, looking comfortable even if he didn’t entirely feel it.

“That all fits with what I’ve heard,” Han said, not mentioning that he’d heard a more favorable version of it from Addington’s own mouth. He pushed back the sarcasm about no, of course not when Caleb said he hadn’t hurt anyone. It was always easy to say what people wanted to hear; Han knew that perhaps better than most people. Still, he was giving Caleb the benefit of the doubt here. He had to. 

After clearing his throat, Han returned to the earlier question, not quite ready to let it go with just a request of trust. If he did, he’d completely ignore his purpose of being here. “Why do you have him pegged specifically for the Godric’s Hollow thing? Were you there?” It was perhaps giving Caleb an out, but it wouldn’t be one he’d want to take if he didn’t mean it, from the sound of things. Han wasn’t trying to push him into showing himself unfavorably, but Han was less interested in morals than in figuring out what he had that was viable.

He did want to trust Caleb. But he needed proof to be able to do that.

Caleb had joined the death eater clan as soon as he landed in the new country. It wasn’t a breath of relief and he wasn’t sure what he was doing but protecting his friends and family by the arrogance of others. That soon changed when he realized he was the one being arrogant and only caring about his own needs. He didn’t need to climb a social ladder if it only led to destruction. 

“Yeah, sure. He’s a well-rounded type of man,” Caleb described with vague sarcasm and a helpless shrug. He didn’t know many of the other death eaters since most were the mask at meetings and there were more than he would like to know personally. Under the masks, he only knew of a few names but he did share missions with people and his mind allowed him to know the rest of the other’s identity. 

There was a beat of silence and Caleb turned his attention to the wall beside him. He didn’t want to be pressed but he knew this would be an interrogation if he didn’t comply. “Yes,” Caleb said shortly, knowing the one word would carry more weight than he could attempt otherwise. A passing sigh escaped him and he rolled his eyes at the situation he found himself in. “Is it in your guidelines to go to a second location? I have more information but an alley is a cliche and pretty public for admitting this sort of thing.”

A loss of soul. It was an eloquent way of agreeing with Henry; Caleb was remarkably well-spoken. He was a self-described “starving artist” but something in his bearing and language indicated not just intelligence. Henry wondered if he himself was from some well-of family back in America. It would certainly explain how he afforded a flat with such a view on an artist’s salary. But none of this was really important, and it was nothing more than Henry’s curiosity musing around. 

“I don’t see why reality can’t include some of those things,” Henry said, knee-jerk flirting again without really thinking about it, the words light enough to be taken in any way Caleb wanted to. “Specifically expensive wine and dinner, although I don’t have access to any private islands at the moment.”

Charcoal wasn’t a medium Henry had ever been captured in. It took skill to truly capture the dynamism of the human form with nothing but black lines on white paper; Henry’s estimation and curiosity of Caleb increased. No-one had ever tried to commit him to paper without color. He was also rarely given such freedom of movement, and he looked around the space curiously for a moment before stripping off his jacket to leave him in nothing but a loose, draping haute couture tank top that shifted occasionally to reveal the scars on his ribs, ugly raised white skin across an already flawless expanse of mother-of-pearl. He decided to sit on the floor and lean against the stool, curling a hand around the leg and letting his head rest against it. As far as positions went it would be more sustainable for a while than sitting on the thing would.

Hm. Not from a rich family, then. Henry cracked a small smile and huffed. “Some stereotypes are more honest than others. Please- I told you, I don’t flatter. I just say what I’m thinking.”

It was complexing on how Caleb thought that Henry’s thoughts were more or less true. The Goldstein name was merely more rich in fame than the riches that actually followed. In America, the name had meant something and he had been invited to many events. The same happened in England except people often had to be reminded of his name or why he was there. He had only dropped the attachment of his name to the Scamander family. He was only related by cousin blood but people still would draw their attention to him. 

Caleb’s lips pulled into a natural smile at the rouse Henry attempted on him. “No islands? And that was going to be the deal-breaker. What a shame,” Caleb answered sarcastically, flashing a grin at Henry before his tone became serious. “If you’re offering to share an expensive bottle of red wine with me the answer is always yes.”

 The light in the room shined against Henry and it only highlighted the hues of his face and the contours of which his face turned. His hands were almost greedy to start drawing the posture out but he glanced up when Henry made himself comfortable. His eyes followed the movement of his jacket being dropped to the floor only to take in the varying tones of his muscles. The scars weren’t a question to Caleb al though he did become curious about what had happened but Caleb intended to draw Henry as he saw which was natural and effortlessly beautiful. The only time he had been exposed to seeing a veela was in nocturnal clubs and night clubs as well as public events. There weren’t that many in America and Caleb didn’t realize the grip the powers would have on him. He reminded himself to hold his gaze back on the paper before he looked like he was hypnotized. 

Han kept his face blank at Caleb’s initial verbal lashing out. He was right, though. He didn’t know Han or anything about him besides how he could flirt and what he was like in bed, which was about all Han knew about Caleb. That plus artistry. That was it. They’d had fun in a situation where neither of them had thought there would be repercussions, and even talking since then hadn’t led to any kind of meaningful exchange of information. Han supposed that’s what this had to be now.

“How do you know those things?” Han asked, trying to stay practical as he went. It was easier to focus on that. James’ name piqued his interest, as Han had some know how of him too. The Godric’s Hollow information was good. Han had suspected from James’ general vague bragging and swagger the last few times they’d met that he was involved in something for Voldemort, but he hadn’t been able to parse out exactly what. This attack had seemed likely, and Han had planned to see if he could coax a little bragging about specifics during their next rendezvous. 

“What do you know about Addington?” he asked, deciding it was best to keep his own small fact-checking to himself if he could help it. Han didn’t want to let Caleb know more than he had to until he could give Emmeline a more specific report. 

This was not what he was expecting but there wasn’t much he was expecting. Caleb only thought about giving information to another Order member which was reason enough to worry but now there was another layer to make him nervous. Caleb swallowed the words he wanted to say in order to get his thoughts in order. This wasn’t going to be a friendly conversation like they always had but instead a business one and a rather heavy one. 

Caleb was revealing himself as a death eater and perhaps a traitor, but to whose side he didn’t know. He rested his head on his hands for a moment, not wanting to expose his own ability to Han. There were things he knew that hadn’t even been said openly. “I...just do, trust me.” Trust seemed like an opposing word right now to use but it was all he had. Caleb didn’t need to read Han’s mind to know what he already knew. This conversation was just as strange to Caleb. 

“I know he’s a corrupt scoundrel who’s been doing the bidding of Voldemort for quite some time and I reckon since the early days. He has a blunt force of confidence that is awful...but as far as his missions go, he has been doing similar missions with a few others. Including myself but...I’ve never hurt anyone like they have. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Levi gave him a small smile of sympathy at how uncomfortable Caleb looked. He knew for some people handling children came more naturally than others, but Caleb was trying. That was the important part. Levi knew wizards who had always just expected their wives to handle the babies, usually cited that witches were just more gifted at such things. Levi had threatened to punch one once, and that had been long before he was in a position to raise a baby without any witches in the immediate picture.

“What a little guy,” he cooed more than said, smiling at the baby in Caleb’s arms. “I figure holiday birthdays can go two ways: I hate it or I’ll embrace it. Hopefully he embraces it and enjoys the ways he can connect them. Think green will be his favorite or his least favorite color?” He was probably getting ahead of himself, and Levi had to remind himself how annoying lots of unanswerable questions could be.

“Millie’s doing great. Growing bigger every day, I swear.” He cleared his throat and gestured to the angle of Caleb’s elbow. “There’s nothing wrong with how you’re holding him. His head is supported, but your arm’s going to get tired rather quickly that way. I don’t want to touch him without your permission, but can I help you adjust?”

He had about nine months of warning to prepare for the idea of a child but Caleb didn’t ask about a hands-on role, mainly because he didn’t know what Hilda wanted to do. They had managed to tell their friends about the news and Caleb was still struggling with how to tell others. They obviously weren’t married and he only talked about Hilda once or twice. Whatever they were or weren’t, Caleb was in the park with Seamus today. 

Even though Seamus wasn’t his, he did look small and precious. Caleb had guilt twisted in his stomach every time he smiled down at Seamus as if it were his own child. This was a moment he was stealing from Patrick. It should be Patrick holding the child in the park, having these life building moments, and being the father that Seamus needs. “I’m sure he’s going to grow up thinking he has Irish blood in him.”

“Oh, I can’t wait for that. They’re small now but give it a few years. They’ll start wanting to become independent and start arguing. I’ll just take advantage of the moments I have now.” Caleb didn’t think he would continue to be in Seamus’ life at that point but figured it was worth saying to Levi. “Oh-yeah, sure. You can hold him if you want. Might be better to show me that way.”

Marcus didn’t like working robberies, and if anyone had bothered to see his track record they might have noticed he’d only done a few. After all, he was much better at talking to people then he was piecing together unfeeling artifacts. Also maybe it hit a bit close to home to what he used to do. He didn’t really want to run into someone he once knew, but he doubted any of them were out this way anyway. 

Moving into the room he looked at the other giving a slight, hopefully warm smile. After all, he was more than likely going to be the key to all of this unless the artifacts showed up on a black market in record time. Marcus had a feeling they wouldn’t.  “Hello - I’m sorry I asked you to meet me here at the ministry, but I don’t have an office set up anymore. I’m Marcus Bulstrode,” he said looking at the other and gesturing for him to sit down. “I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about what happened. I know it’s probably traumatic for you, and I don’t mind if you take your time to answer or need a minute. Usually I would offer you a drink, but I was told that isn’t acceptable behavior here.” He gave the other a bit of a smile sitting down in his own chair pulling out some files for himself. 

“First however, how are you Mr. Goldstein? Can I get you some tea or coffee?”

@calebgoldstein​

It had been a few days since the madness at the exhibition and Caleb was still grasping at what happened. Of course it would have happened to him and he was as careful as he possibly could up to the point the death eaters came. The investigation was initiated as soon as Caleb was released from his binds and called in the authorities and was fortunate to have people take him seriously. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. I was in the area,” Caleb answered, knowing that the studio was only a few kilometers outside the Ministry. He didn’t mind the investigator taking a comb through that night as long as they could have answers and find the perpetrators. Caleb’s eyes fell to the ground and his hands clasped together neatly in his lap. It wasn’t the trouble of going through the night but instead, wondering if they would catch the people and the stolen artifacts. The name Marcus didn’t ring any bells but he knew that the investigator was the partner of his old friend Levi. This wasn’t exactly the way of making conversation he had in mind.

“I-yeah, I’m fine. Water would be good actually.” Caleb wanted something stronger, but this was at the Ministry and it was on the investigator’s time. “You can ask  me anything you want. The more information you have the better. I’ll try to remember everything I can. I care more about the stolen art than the people who took it.”

“Considering the people of Hogsmeade seem to think that having an auror around means that they have access to law enforcement for their every problem, I’d say it’s distracting.” Valentina muttered. “I went to the pub and some woman came up to me insisting I arrest her neighbor for stealing her kneazle.” Add in the fact the woman was elderly and her kneazle had died years before, but she was incapable of remembering it, well… it hadn’t exactly been a pleasant day.

Cutting her eyes at him, Valentina shook her head in response to his words as if disappointed by them. “I do remember you, Mr. Goldstein.” She informed him. “You came to me after repairing some of the portraits damaged in the Ministry break-in, you had a lead.” Admittedly, Valentina hadn’t been able to spare him much time, but she did recall meeting him before - possibly because it was rare people made her job easier.

“But that would be appreciated. The items at the manor don’t see much appreciation these days, might as well do something with them.” While Valentina supposed she could move back in to the manor, she didn’t have much of a desire to, but perhaps she should ask Sofiya if she was interested even if that idea conjured up the image of Sofiya wailing as she walked through hallways, carrying a candelabra and attempting to converse with the dead like some sort of mad woman from a victorian novel.

“After the bunch of craziness that has taken place there I don’t blame them. On Halloween I was picked up by a statue and never thought that would happen.” Caleb could understand having an auror around gave some reassurance to some people’s widening fears but for the most part, it only gave them an advantage. “Well, kneazles can have a heavy price on the bartering side of town. Did the neighbor end up doing it or was it just a dead end?”

It had been a few months since his dotting duty at the Ministry but did recall the woman the moment she assured him. “That was an interesting day on my part as well. Forgive me for forgetting faces and names. I’m only an artist’s assistant during the week and was thrown at an investigation. Thank you for helping with that though. It was one less thing to worry about. Those portraits talked my ear off. They like hearing themselves talk I wager.”

“I know the studio I work for has been preparing for it and I’ve been trying to get word out. We are only sponsoring it and the items are coming from all over the country. Some possessions are even from places like Sweden and Africa which I’m excited to see.” Caleb only had a mild sense of artistic taste and it was a newfound hobby for him but he was turning it into his career and wanted to know everything he could about it. “It’s only in a few days but new things are still being added.”

Levi very rarely went for walks on his own without Marcus, Millie, or both, but it was a nice day out. He’d figured it would be a pleasant way to pass the time as he headed for the park. He hadn’t expected to run into anyone, but when he saw Caleb down the way and with a stroller, Levi hadn’t been able to resist picking up his pace.

He frowned as his approach led to a small series of events that led to a sharp wail to start up from the stroller. “Sorry,” he said, slowly and sitting on the other end of the bench. “I didn’t mean to make your day more difficult.” His face softened as he watched Caleb lift out the child. “What a beautiful baby. You and Hilda must be very happy. How old is he?” Levi should have known, but he didn’t read the paper much these days. If it was important, he’d usually end up briefed at the school. Being able to avoid the rest was a necessarily mental precaution.

Levi knew how important those early days could be, and he didn’t want to overstep by offering to help. Part of him really hoped, though, that Caleb asked if he wanted to hold the baby at some point. Millie was old enough to wander and laugh and do all sorts of wonderful things, but there was something about holding them this itty bitty that was special. That said, Caleb’s baby was smaller than Levi had ever seen Millie. They’d missed the first two months of her life, and this baby was positively tiny in comparison.

This was a new life period to adjust to and Caleb didn’t know how long it would last. He supposed until Hilda wanted to put a stop to the charade. Caleb figured that would be until Patrick pulled his act together or the war was over which who knew when that would be. Caleb wished that Hilda wouldn’t leave Caleb alone with the child who definitely wasn’t his again. Perhaps they could arrange for a sitter in the near future. 

Caleb’s brows knitted together as he focused on the two things that overlapped each other. The infant in the stroller had a scrunched red face and then his old friend who Caleb was thrilled to see in public. “Oh, no. Don’t be. All my fault I reckon.” Caleb’s hands stayed at his sides, unsure of how to pick Seamus up or what was going to work. Hilda had only given him information on allergies and how to rock him. This was all done without the actual baby in his hands and rushed words as she headed to the Floo entrance. “Not more difficult just more exciting is all,” Caleb managed as he held Seamus in his arms, making sure to hold the head on his shoulder. He rocked using his whole upper body and the crying seemed to cease slowly. “Just a week. Was born on St. Patrick’s Day. I’m sure he’ll love that when he’s older.”

Seamus sighed against his shoulder and Caleb gave him a look to see a calming face instead of the scrunched face from earlier. It wasn’t the ideal way to start a conversation but at least Levi seemed overwhelmed to see Seamus which was reassuring. “I’ll be honest I’m not sure the exact way to hold a baby. I didn’t get my parental training course. Hilda had to go meet with her parents last minute. Thought it would be good to get out for a bit while I do some work. How have you been? How’s your daughter?”

Pip nodded slightly at Caleb’s words as she grabbed one of the glasses to turn over onto the bar top. “As long as you don’t mind sweet. Although I gotta admit the boss has been watering down some of it. So I doubt they’ve been as strong as I usually do.” 

Pip went to get the bottles instead of just using her wand to get them. Always seemed like to much to use magic when her own two feet and hands could do it. Without thinking much she poured this and that using more muscle memory then actually using a shot glass to measure. She knew the pour well enough by now. It almost calmed her, and although she didn’t trust the man she at least didn’t mean ill will now. 

“Trusting my judgement’s often lead to bad places,” Pip said with a chuckle and a smile while she got a cherry from the garnish. “So I don’t know about all that. Take a sip so you know if you like it or not. It’s free drinks so I can make something else if that doesn’t suit.”

The place was covered in couples or single persons interested in leaving as a couple. Caleb had been to a few events like this but never a night dedicated to the love holiday itself. “Your boss clearly is a cheap man who doesn’t like to have fun then. The stronger the better.”

Caleb was glad to have a night without being in the same room as Hilda, but he the moment he left he would return to her again. At the end of the day, even if he wasn’t the father of her child or her husband, he was one of her closest friends. It was his role to be there for her no matter what and would convey any fun that happened tonight for her. The only trouble was not getting too close in the arms of another. 

“I don’t doubt that, but your definition of bad place might be different than mine,” Caleb answered with a mirrored grin. He complied and took a testing sip of his drink before looking back at Pippa. “It’s a shame you’re not getting paid tonight by patrons. You have a tip box or something?”

“She didn’t start it, the racists did.” Patrick said with shrug. They’d started it with words and Yuki’d finished it with her fists. Honestly if he wasn’t impressed with his boss before this he certainly was now. “But it’s not too bad she’ll be out soon and we can get things back on track. Since I’m technically still a Junior Hit Wizard there’s not much I can do unaccompanied.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Yeah we’re gonna either gonna need a general description of what you consider attractive or a bit more to go on, mate. That’s fairy subjective.” Especially since he didn’t fancy men and he had no idea what Yuki preferred.

He choked on air. Seamus? Lord above. 

That was his middle name. 

Hell, he knew the child was his, he knew. But knowing and hearing Hilda name their kid Seamus was– shit. Patrick coughed violently, thumping himself on the chest. Right. Seamus.

“That’s uh, that’s a good strong name. It’s Irish for James.”

“Most wars and fights start with those people,” Caleb commented candidly, giving a shrug as if that was explainable. They were in a time where power was matched with race and Caleb only agreed to a point. But, recently he felt like he was tearing himself away from that mold. He was lying to his parents and now he was lying to himself to the point he didn’t know what he was doing. 

Caleb bowed his head down to his hands, trying to think about what the man looked like. He wish he had a name to give to make things easier. “My type is subjective-look, he had unkempt hair and a good set of eyes. Shorter than me. Maybe he was French? But it seemed like he was around here enough to lose it slightly.”

He happily swallowed the contents of the bottle, only stilling when Patrick began making a scene in his living room. It only took him a second to see his thoughts to understand what was happening. Caleb’s lips pulled into a frown and found a spot on the floor to look at. 

“Is it? Didn’t know,” Caleb said flatly, finally locking his gaze on Patrick. Since he had been in this country, Patrick hadn’t made it easy for him and knew people were seeing through his acting abilities. “Look, pal. He’s yours. Seamus is. Hilda and I never...I’m doing this because I’m her friend.” Caleb downed another sip of his beer, knowing he would need more if he was going to expose himself to Patrick. “She and her family are scared about Seamus being a threat right now thanks to the war and blood supremacy. If people knew he was a pureblood they wouldn’t look twice. But with people out there hurting infants because they’re muggleborns or halfbloods, well. I’m sure you understand.” Caleb hastily stood up and cornered himself in the kitchen. “I’m getting another. Do you need another? I need another.”

Han hadn’t been told a lot when Emmeline quietly approached him about sussing out how genuine a potentially flipped Death Eater might be. He knew the man had information about James Addington that Han might be able to confirm or deny. He didn’t know who he was meeting or how potentially dangerous he was. The left Han feeling incredibly itchy and vulnerable because if Death Eaters found out who he aligned himself with, Han’s livelihood and life were at risk. Still, he had to trust Emmeline. She’d never purposefully led anyone astray that he knew of, and she didn’t seem to have a habit of creating unnecessary risks. He had to accept that this was just a double-check of someone she’d already vetted.

Still, he kept his wand in his hand as he apparated, and Han already had it half up when he saw who it was. Han froze. He’d found Caleb to be a bit of harmless fun, the kind of person he could potentially slip back to in the future because Caleb clearly took things as lightly as he did. Apparently, though, they had less in common than Han thought. “No,” he agreed automatically. “I don’t know how much you know about what I actually do, but discretion is something of a specialty of mine. I trust you’ll extend the same courtesy.” Han was slipping a bit into business mode, compartmentalizing as best he could. Still, his own word choice of trust gave him a slight hang up, and he forced himself to put his wand away. If he was going to talk of trust, he needed to show it. Besides, from what he knew of Caleb, he didn’t think the man would hurt him. “Where do you want to start?”

Caleb wasn’t sure what he was expecting and didn’t know how he put himself in this situation. He came to this country for the message behind the Dark Lord’s reign and it wasn’t until now that he was becoming self-aware of everything. The people that hid behind their masks were all the same it seemed and Caleb lost himself in the myriad of power. That wasn’t what it had been at first but he didn’t understand why it suddenly clicked. The only fear he had now was about Voldemort himself finding out or one of the other death eaters. Was this betraying them? Would he go to the next meeting if asked? Caleb wasn’t sure where he stood and meeting with an Order member wasn’t making it any easier. 

There was no reason for Caleb to feel incoherent now. He and Han had been together once months ago and since then had only done harmless flirting with each other. But still, seeing him made his stomach twist as if a knife had cut through him. “I don’t-I don’t know what you do, no. I don’t know anything about you.” The words fell out of his mouth, feeling stressed to be put into this situation. Caleb turned sharply to face the opposite wall, attempting to swallow any emotions that clung to his features. “Yeah, okay, you got yourself a deal.” Caleb ran a hand through his hair, mussing it slightly before facing Han. There was no reason to be threatened by Han except for what he stood for. The Order wasn’t doing anything worse than the death eaters were in his mind. “I know a few things about the dark lord. I know what he’s doing and what he wants to do next. Things that no one else does,” Caleb stressed, alluding to the sessions he had with Voldemort. There had not been an attempt to enter the dark lord’s mind, but Caleb tried and Voldemort was stronger with his mind than Caleb could ever be. “I have a name. James Addington. Death eater. I can have more but I know-I know he was behind the most recent attack in Godric’s Hollow last week. What else do you need?”