I am burdened with a glorious Purpose

‘‘That’s very nice of you to say,’‘ Lawrence lightened up, though he knew very well that, realistically, that was a temporary state due to both of them being more or less denied by the law. Outlaws was a terrible alternative phrasing to use. The name rang a bell. It was an odd feeling that didn’t resemble guilt in the slightest but that mimicked it to precision. He didn’t want to talk to that man because, even though he wasn’t aware of it, Lawrence had wronged him and Lawrence chose to have the grace to stand aside. It was questionable what kind of man he was if he was related, by name, with the squib girl he mercifully killed a few months ago. Still, he simpered Jonathan’s way, nodding as to thank him for the suggestion. ‘‘I have no intentions to break the wards. We’re civilized people, for God’s sake,’‘ he shook his head and spoke in a lowered voice, showing his disapproval for being suspected of that. Yet, he didn’t take it too personally either. It was only understandable this young man would be as cautious as possible. He was a second away from being out of his depth. Still, Lawrence liked a child with potential, so he didn’t judge harshly.

‘‘I didn’t mean to doubt your civility unduly. It’s a blanket warning I’ve given to many.” It was only mildly disappointing Lawrence was putting on the same kind of face he was tonight. Violence could be counted on from some other source, Jon was sure, and he could hope an even more effective one than Lawrence Frisk for making a story out of the ruined peace. “We’re sure to make the room nervous if we talk too long, but tell me how you and yours are, and of any introductions you’d like me to make for you--not that you aren’t more than capable of that yourself.”

‘‘I wouldn’t necessarily rely on reform suggestions from a wanted man. No offence. It’s just clear you would claim that in order to justify the accusations against you as unjust. I know you’re Jonathan Marks. 

We haven’t met because magic can logically hide anything from anyone forever if used right. You could have gotten old somewhere safe. But you might not want to. It could be a mistake. Hiding behind old protective charms might also be a mistake. You’re rightfully afraid, so you use shields. The problem is that you still want to come out. You can’t have both. Be brave or go back on the run, hoping for an indefinite time that no one will find you. Because, like I said, with magic, it is possible either way.’’

“That would depend entirely on which accusations we are discussing. Unjust may not be how I’d describe all of them.” He treated it fairly. 

“You doubt your own magic and detective skills and that of your colleagues so badly that you believe I could have evaded you forever? If I admit I believe the same, I’m called dangerously overconfident.” He ground his teeth at a few of Auror Anton’s chosen words, not all the man’s claim being as amusing as his realistic view of how easy it was to hide oneself with magic, but he managed not to bleed. “ It’s not fear I’m displaying here tonight. It’s the only way to get conversation over drawn wands. It’s practicality. And, yes, with numbers here as they are, fear would be practical and rational itself. No protective charms tonight would not be bravery; it would be stupidity. As would letting myself be baited into some chest thumping promise I’ll show you I am not a coward and meet you on any field you wish. Really, you’ll have to try better than that, Auror Anton.”

They were acting, something obvious to maybe more than a few present, but he didn’t care. He was ready to keep the conversation flowing for the sake of appearances, but something Jon said piqued his interest. “Who’s your contact at the Prophet?” he asked, the first genuine words out of his mouth in minutes.

Allard contained his smile to the pleasant width that would be expected, but it threatened to stretch wider at the mention of being hunted by Aurors. “And how brave of you to invite them all here tonight, along with nearly the entirety of the Wizengamot it seems? We don’t need to go through your whole guest list, but it’s an impressive one just from who I’ve seen so far. But, like you said, you have other guests and to talk to you too long would be impolite to them. Next time let’s not wait years to talk again.”

“Victoire Weasley,” Jon spoke it as a given. “We have some acquaintance and she’s already done two interviews with me, though the last was ease of access.” He had been visiting Darius, and all the rest had been accidental, but that wasn’t a truth to be told. “I knew where to find her and had only seen weak protective spells on the apartment.” 

“I want to establish a dialogue. It calls for bravery, or perhaps stupidity. We’ll see by the end of the night how it will be remembered.” His smile matched and his tone made light of it, like he didn’t truly expect reprisal, broken vows, broken spells, and broken bodies if the night called for it. Jonathan Marks, thought mastermind but now proving so naive and poised to be betrayed--though not martyred for his cause if he could help it. “No, I hope we don’t have to wait years, though, forgive me, but I’d prefer to wait if the only other option I am given is through prison bars.”

‘‘That’s heartwarming. Then why did you invite them too? Oh, they’re worried for me, definitely. It’s cute. 

They were beyond worried at first. Victoire, did you meet with him for real? Are you stupid? Blah, blah, blah. They had backstage questions. I didn’t know what to respond. I told them we’re not close. I don’t know how you drink your coffee. Other than that, they seem immune to the outrage. I guess they accept me since I’m theirs. I suppose you want your official claims published somewhere, right? New year, new you.’’

“What kind of overture of peace and unity in the wizarding  United Kingdom would not include all Harry Potter’s family? Tonight isn’t our night. Report on it, surely, but our next exclusive interview would be done at a much less crowded venue even if your family wasn’t here.” 

“Black or no cream and far too much sugar depending on mood if your family asks again. Admirable loyalty in your family. We are not close but what does it looks like if we do another interview when now I have more offers? Though I can be loyal too and we do have a history. Next week, after everyone, including your paper, has published their sensationalized recap of the evening and the politicians and aurors made official statements or declared renewed war against me. I’ll respond to all through you. Where would you like to meet?”

‘‘You’ve gone cheekier. Love it. Not that I think your new profession is all that great for yourself. I won’t meddle into that.’‘ Colin was honest on all grounds, both hesitant and excited and, on top of everything, trying not to judge.

‘‘You’re doing a terrible job at not being creepy, Jon,’‘ he sighed out like a nostalgic. ‘‘You should stop checking up on people in their dreams. You might not be my biggest dream anymore, I’m afraid. And it’s awkward.’‘

The mention of Delphina was met with warmth in his eyes, though he didn’t condone or even understand all that was (still?) going on between them. ‘’I mean, what could you have done? Kept her a prisoner in a tower?’’ He laughed briefly, to state that as the most ridiculous thing in an almost forced, induced manner. Not that he would ever suspect that joke to be serious when it came to Jon. 

He knew it was a terrible idea. Mathematically, Jonathan Marks was an unstable murderer with incredible powers. Still, he reminded Colin of his Hogwarts period, which was his craziest and most shameless one. What came next was almost asked for. He knew that Jon’s ego was going to survive this and even play the game with a great comeback. He at least hoped for it. ‘’If you’re asking me indirectly, Jonathan, if I’m still sleeping with your - um, wife, right? - I can’t answer that. It’s personal.‘’ His smile spoke a silent, not apologetic but hopeful sorry. ‘’Wait, you know about the book club? Merlin, Jon, have you been hiding under the table all along?’’

Jon claimed cheeky and creepy with a passive smirk. He would have said he’d predicted every tick of Colin’s response, called him simple to figure out, but, in reality, it was a pleasant surprise, Colin’s ease with him and, to an extent, the reverse.

“I didn’t say I had been checking on your dreams. You say I’m not the biggest feature anymore, but it is, unfortunately, telling that was the first assumption as if you’d seen me recently, something I’d rather not dig into for my own comfort.” Jon undoubtedly had gone cheekier as his old friend had said, because even those words were pitched with amusement, not the old undercurrent of defensive disgust. “I may have checked on you once or twice that way though.”

“Not a tower, no.” He didn’t so much as twitch a smile at Colin’s forced laugh. “Did she tell you much about the months she spent with me on the run? I made a few miscalculations. I would do better if given another chance. I’ve told her so.” It was gravely upsetting he hadn’t seen her tonight. 

“I was not.” Jon annunciated every word. His humor wasn’t that good and he felt wetness that said his nose was beginning to bleed as he stared Colin down. It was a long second frozen, then he pinched the bridge of his nose briefly as he shook his head as if simply in annoyance and not making sure the blood wasn’t going to run out of it and make him obvious, and came back with a smile of too many teeth that didn’t reach his eyes, ignoring the previous staredown and giving Colin some version of the comeback that was supposed to enter into male banter when both sides were too secure and knew each other too well to get offended.  ‘’I suppose it’s fair. I didn’t confirm whether I’d ever slept with yours.”  He was the one forcing a chuckle now and it sounded like he’d never even heard one before. The intensity he’d tried to shake off settled again, Jon truly unable to let the joke slide and move on despite knowing better than to show anger or look unstable tonight. He kept his tone low, about all he could do. “If I ever thought you had slept with Delphina, I would flay the skin from your body, strip by strip. I would grow plants inside your lungs while you were still alive and let them burst from your throat. Not the most intimidating death threat, I’m aware, but it would offer a sense of completion since I’ve set murder scenes by air, fire, and water, and burying you alive would be less satisfying since I would not get to watch. That would not be the end, but I do have to contain even the hypothetical right now. Just say you understand.” He wiped the blood from his upper lip and summoned a napkin. Unfortunate he had reacted that way. He was already berating himself. 

“Not under the table, but sometimes at a few you occupied.” After he’d gotten to complete his outburst, he was jovial again, though still more muted than before.

‘‘You should be.’‘ It was a name he knew where to put, since he’s heard it so much he was sick of it already, but Charlie has always been the master of pretending to not know people. ‘‘Why did you just introduce yourself including the middle name? Isn’t that something grandpas do? You don’t seem quite there yet.’‘

It was a good question. Rudely put, but for once, Jonathan dismissed that part without it rankling. He hadn’t given much thought to his constant assertion of his middle name for most of his life. “Habit and respect for history. My middle name is my father’s. It’s part of the family legacy.” Part of the family he didn’t much care for these days. Perhaps he should drop the Michael. “You haven’t introduced yourself yet.”

“Especially glad is a rather strong way to put it.” Mia took a sip of her drink, seemingly unaffected and even indifferent toward the man who addressed her now as if she was a friendly acquaintance he was happy to bump into again. “Well, you’ve always been political, so it’s difficult not to seem that way.”

“Perhaps,” he appeared properly chagrined, or like he was acting chastened but with hard eyes beneath it as if he resented a colder greeting than he anticipated. There had to be layers if it was believable. This wasn’t as much acting reunion for the fun of it as it had been with Allard. He had to be more nuanced.  “But I am happy to see that you haven’t been crucified for once having been linked to my family, and to have a chance to apologize. I’d like to offer explanations at least, as well as condolences. If I’m allowed that much?”

She couldn’t have not gone, even though her bones ached at the idea, and peace, though ideal, wasn’t an option in her mind. Her dreaded curiosity hadn’t died with her unwavering bravery. The opportunity to take such an eclectic audience in had won. Though she felt more cautious than usual. She knew more about these folks than they knew about her.

“Did everyone and their dog show up? Were we expected to memorize a dance for a flash mob before we arrived? Does everyone really have my sick sense of curiosity? And am I over or under dressed? I really can’t tell now.”

Jonathan Marks in public was an entirely new person from the lost man she got used to in her living room. The realization took effort not to show on her face. For the people watching as much as for herself, she swallowed the smile. ‘’I’m nervous. We shouldn’t even be talking, but walk me through your great speech. We’ll say this is when you convinced me.’’

“Why shouldn’t we be talking? You’re naturally curious, and tonight you don’t have to quake, because there is nothing I could do to you if I wanted. The speech isn’t just yet.” He took one of her hands between both of his. “My eyes are going to turn soft now and I’m going to apologize from the depths of my heart for Evelyn. You don’t need to accept right away. You can look upset I even dared bring up her name. It’s your decision.” He gave her hand a significant squeeze and dropped it if she hadn’t  already jerked it away by that point. “I understand why you took the actions you did in turning me in, so forth and so on, let me add more words for those that may pay attention to how many words we look to be exchanging, and then, yes, wait a few more moments and here is where I start to convince you, to explain my actions and the action I want to take for the future.” 

He indicated one of the adjoining, less noisy, rooms of the suite with a hand. “If you would follow me, because this is such a serious conversation we are having right now. I gloss over mistakes I made in my youth. I only account for Rose or Andelina--or anything else-- among those that ask Rose can only be called a mercy. Andelina I similarly had no choice but to end suffering after a grave miscommunication between me and someone who understood what my goals were as little as the general public seem to right now. Tragedies but not regrets and little to do with me.”

“The focus is not on me much at all. It’s on where the system in power is broken. I hit systematic oppression of spirit users, except those the Minsitry deems useful. Then there’s the lies, fear mongering, and the coverup of the last war. That doesn’t feature heavily with us, we were always on the same side on this, but with others, I’ll spend longer.  The twisted corruption of Harry Potter, an unpopular speaking point but not as unpopular as it used to be. History we are doomed to repeat. It was a culture that creates the type of radical that the Ministry claims to be guarding against--but of course I’ve learned to grow beyond the radicalism. This is not a time of war, we have weakened ourselves enough, lost enough. We have lost ourselves. Is not losing Hogwarts and the Ministry doing nothing to regain it a symbol enough of that?  But I don’t suggest radical action there either, or at least not violent retaliation if it can be avoided. Parlay to see what these so called Maytes want. Though the Maytes aren’t the biggest threat to weaken us. I address the muggle problem last, carefully. Endangered creatures pushed to smaller and smaller pockets and wizards to soon follow the beasts. That sort of protest. I want to coexist with the muggles, truly, but it is not coexistence that has been the policy in the last thousand years.”

“That is at least the outline of the first few points from an earnest speaker.”

Allard smiled knowingly at the mention of an interview and shook his head. “I’m afraid our old acquaintance wasn’t something I was counting on for a story. It hadn’t even come to mind, actually. Since I took over I’ve been involved more with the business side - the advertisements, customer complaints, subscriptions, things like that. I leave the editorial decisions, and attempts at stories, to my editor-in-chief. Just until I have more of a pulse on the entire business.” Allard thought with all his experience with his father and school-learning he’d settle into his ownership well - but with every business there were little differences that made it impossible to prepare. It was painful sometimes to have to sit through people telling him about things he didn’t know about or might not even understand, and he didn’t like the idea of just blindly trusting others, but they’d been in the business longer. And after the backlash he got when he pushed back against them once, looking like an ignorant child throwing his daddy’s money around, he decided to alter his approach to management.

“If you’d like, I can put you in contact. I believe everyone deserves their chance to tell their side of the story, though I think the Prophet might reach a farther audience. I saw their political reporter milling about, but he might not be who you want for something so sensitive. Would it be sensitive? How have you been?”

“Wise to play to your strength and realize your limitations instead of exerting empty control, posturing for the sake of it.” He kept his commentary brief. They had plenty of opportunities to discuss Allard’s business, and while their conversation was mainly playacting for an audience, as two old friends sharing a strange reunion they didn’t need to linger either.

“I have my own contact at the Prophet, but the political reporter might be more suitable. Please do introduce us. I wouldn’t call it sensitive, but you might have a more accurate insight to public perception. I can only speak for myself.” 

How was he? His most loathed question.

“That is too broad a question to answer without keeping us occupied for longer than would be polite to my other guests, but I have been doing well, despite some of the circumstances I have found myself in, hunted by the aurors.”

Anyone else, and she might’ve remarked on how Muggle-like his drink choice was. Instead, she summoned the bottle and began to pour out the alcohol and soda. She was just sending the bottle of Jack Daniels back to its shelf when he mentioned death being on his conscience. The bottle very nearly shattered from how hard and fast it crashed onto the shelf. Poppy cleared her throat and handed the drink over as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “I’m glad it’s not so, too. Will that be all you’d like?”

“Yes, that will be all. It was not my intention to upset you. You hold yourself together well. I respect dignity and control.”

*He follows Jon, smile the tiniest bit strained even as he forces away how conscious he is of everyone who will look on this interaction with disapproving eyes - though he comforts himself with the thought of Colin and Olivier, and the impossibility of either of them finding fault with him talking to Jon - before biting back a slightly incredulous, and maybe a little bit hysterical, laugh at the question.*

Thank you. It was…it was difficult for a lot of reasons, but some things are easier now, too. I don’t think my relationship with my mother has ever been better. *Which is not to say it’s quite good, as evidenced by the wry twist to his mouth, but the point stands.*

Since Mariya? Well, I broke up with Lawrence, though I figure you probably knew already. I’ve seen Mercy; she returned to the world at Josef’s wedding, with Colin’s baby on her hip, so she’s still dramatic as ever. I’ve started doing commission work for most of Knockturn Alley, since the attack; protective circles, and such. I’ll do them for just about anyone who hires me, really, but the families on Knockturn are the ones who need them most at the moment, and no one else will take their money.

*There’s the barest thread of tension in his voice as he touches on that, and he presses his lips together, visibly displeased, before refocusing and looking back at Jon.*

I went back to Russia for a little bit, before the attack. Spent some time with my Grandfather, let him teach me some more about how he leads our family. He misses Mariya, but he’s doing well.

I confess, nothing really exciting has happened outside of everything happening in public. No near death experiences since the last one.

How have you been?

*looking sympathetic when Tristan talks about difficulties and then amused when subject turns to his mother*  I’m glad. My father and I have reached a harmony too. *Tristan had to have heard of the elder Marks’ arrest*

*He’s heard some of it before, but he doesn’t interrupt* I was hoping Mercy would be here. Give her my love when you see her. Tell her to come get it herself next time.  I would like to see her and Colin’s son too, but I had thought that might be stretching the expectation too far.  Does the child favor Mercy or Colin more? How is Mercy adapting to motherhood? *approving, as he seldom would be when saying the following words* You have a soft heart. I’m glad you have retained it, and that you are looking out for those that lost at Knockturn. I heard about what happened when everyone else did. I can assure you I had nothing to do with it. 

You stuck with the runes course then and it’s going well? You always did have a talent. I hope you’re enjoying it. 

Do you think managing the family will be enough for you? *It’s never a question of whether Tristan would be up to the task in Jonathan’s mind. Tristan is more than capable*

I miss my wife. I miss law school though by now I am far ahead on the curriculum. I’ve traded more than I wanted to, not for the purpose I wanted to. Killing that girl, killing Evelyn Lockhart, was a mistake. I don’t claim it was an accident, but it wasn’t a murder either and I would take it back if I could. 

I won’t say I would take back other decisions. I did what had to be done, what I was driven to in some cases, and I will continue to do so no matter how few I can make understand. I could have let Evelyn Lockhart climb out of that fountain however. 

,,,But then perhaps she would have struck me in the back and she would be the one giving you regrets if she even felt them. Forgive me if I consider that reality poorer.

After discreetly stopping the nose bleed that purified all bad thoughts from his mind, at least for the moment being, due to the old magic guarding the ballroom, Luca found himself approaching Jonathan Marks himself. He was taller than he would have assumed from the pensieve memories. ‘’You don’t have to-. I don’t believe we have been properly introduced to each other. Auror Anton.’’

“Not properly, no. It’s a wonder we haven’t. The auror department is indeed in need of a reform. Jonathan Marks.”

‘‘You’re too kind, Jonathan. Thank you for having us. It was heartwarming to see some human kindness left on this earth. As in for the party, it’s a spectacular initiative. I recognized some of the wards and it’s amazing that you found them here. They’re so, so old. It’s nice to see you too.’‘

“Human kindness is a scarcity these days. It’s why we have to stick together.” He would have just as easily turned the rallying point of the night to taking back the castle and painted the Maytes as the greater evil in the world that made unity necessary if Lawrence had not taken him up on his invitation, but now the night did seem like an attempt at peace between all factions, there was really no way to lose. “I’ll admit to wondering if I was being too ambitious. It’s a wonderful thing to see realized. I suggest you talk to Herbert Burke. He’s an old family friend, running for office, and a rather sympathetic man with human kindness left within him as well. The wards are obscure, but it does not surprise me you know them. I assume this also means you know the way to break them, but I wouldn’t recommend it. There is still the vow.” which surely Lawrence could figure out how to break too. 

‘‘Who the fuck are you?’‘

“Humbled, now, to begin with. Jonathan Michael Marks.” He didn’t elaborate beyond the name, not thinking he’d have to. “Your host for the evening.”