Things At Home

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Quinn breathed in as he pulled up on an ab-crunch and emptied his lungs out as he went down. He felt the sweat on his bare upper body as he continued to work his body under the summer sun. As he went down, the sun's heat would dissipate, and a cool wind would pick up as he would pull himself up. The magic synced with his breathing, flowing inside and outside his body. He pushed more magic into his body, contracting his muscles to make things a little difficult for him. His brows furrowed as things did get a little more challenging for him.

He was focused on his body when his ears picked up the crunching of grass moving closer. He pulled up and turned his head back to face the familiar footsteps.

"You got back quickly," he said. "I was expecting to see you in the evening."

George looked down on his grandson, his eyes moving around Quinn's body.

"I'm not injured, not even a knick on the skin," said Quinn.

"I will believe when I see no injuries," said George, and Quinn got up with a kip-up and turned around to show George that he was indeed alright.

"Tell me everything that happened; start from the top and leave not a single detail from what happened yesterday evening."

Quinn did precisely that. He started from the top about his arrival at Godric Hollows, the presence of guards in front of the Potter House, some chatter about the dinner, and then the climax in the form of his confrontation with the Death Eaters. He finished the account with his little time in the Auror Office.

"That's about it. After that. . . I was home, had a lovely sleep, and here we are. . . ."

Quinn waved his hand, and a patio table with two chairs conjured between them.

"I am assigning you a bodyguard," said George as soon as he sat down.

"I refuse."

"You don't have a choice. After yesterday, it's clear that if you're going to roam around outside, you'll need a bodyguard," said George, and before Quinn could get a word in edgewise, George continued. "It's better if you take some time off from here, and a good way to do that is to leave here and go to New Zealand— I want you to start your apprenticeship with Alan Baddeley now instead of next year."

Quinn stayed silent for George to finish before starting, "Wow, okay, I heard what you said. I'm not going to do that. Instead, I'm going to stay here, have a good break, plan a trip with my friends, and have a jolly time. I will also repeat, I do not want a bodyguard. Don't try to stick someone with me, don't even think about it— I'm not going to appreciate it."

"You don't need to appreciate it."

"I will not be getting a bloody bodyguard."

The grandson and grandfather stared at each other from across the table. None said anything to each other, just stared at each other. They only started again when Polly popped up and served tea.

"Are you fine?" George asked.

Quinn answered with a glass of lemonade in hand, "I'm doing just fine. You don't need to worry like that."

George took a sip from his teacup and sighed, "You and Death Eaters mentioned in the same sentence is not good for my health. It was fortunate that Elliot was with me, or else I would've been leaving a lot of things unattended."

"I will write to him to tell him that I'm okay. He must be worried sick there all on his own."

"Lia would be coming in the evening; I got her message."

"Should I write to her? If I remember correctly, today and tomorrow are her free days with Abraham, and you know how those two work. It'll be better if I write to her before she gets that Portkey."

He raised his hand towards his room to summon the portable MagiFax, but was stopped by George.

"You can do that later. So. . . thirteen Death Eaters. . . that's impressive."

"Some might say that," said Quinn, smiling into his glass.

"You never told me about this— that you had reached such levels. Even some Aurors and Hit Wizards pass their careers without achieving such."

"It wasn't a big deal," Quinn crossed his legs and said nonchalantly. "They were weak, not used to group combat; hell, they were untrained, normals, they probably didn't even use magic daily. So even though they were a dozen, they weren't much of a threat if even greater in number. And well, they underestimated the difficulty of the mission they were given— their failure was imminent."

"Untrained or not, they were thirteen, and you were one. Fighting that many people and coming out victorious— coming out victorious uninjured, that is a big deal."

"Fighting multiple opponents without magic, yes, that's extraordinary, but I had magic. When magic is involved, normal rules don't apply."

"But they had magic as well, son."

"Having magic doesn't give them the same weapon as I. The way we understand magic is completely different. Even if we term it as magic, it's something completely different."

"I could see that from the condition they were transported in to St. Mungos. I heard they horrified many eyes."

"I might have overdone it in the heat of the moment. It was astonishing when it happened; I was never expecting them to greet me with such vigor."

"You seem to have progressed much in magic."

"I have been working on it for years. It would be strange and disappointing if I didn't make progress."

"Yes, but you have made too much progress; I'm impressed. . . ."

"And?"

"I just wonder how much you have progressed."

"To be exact, you're asking me if I have progressed in the disreputable parts of magic."

"Yes, that's exactly what I am asking."

"In some ways, I have made more progress in those parts than in the mainstream. . . . things can get boring, and those things just seem so much interesting."

"And dangerous."

"You let me worry about that."

"A parent always worries about their child. I still think you're too young to be dabbling in those things."

Quinn raised his glass again. There wasn't anything he could say to dissuade George's worries. The most they could do was ignore each other and pretend that the cause of uneasiness didn't exist.

"What are you planning to do now?" asked Quinn.

"I do not like getting involved in wars," said George, taking a somber tone. "Wars— skirmishes— happen every day in this world, be it wizarding or muggle. There are plenty of countries, unrecognized states where we do business, where people are at war with each other for resources. I have tried to stay clean of war, knowing well that it would make us humongous profits and secure my family's future even better if we partook even a little.

Those are third-world countries; I don't care much about them. This is my country, my birthplace, where I grew up— a place that I dearly love. And I still don't want to get involved, but. . ."

George looked more somber than Quinn ever looked at him, and he saw a look of anger in his eyes, something so rare that it took him a step even with his Occlumency to remember seeing it.

". . . they encroached upon my family, something I love much more dearly than anything else. I have to — wish to — want to — respond to what the Dark Lord dared to do because if I don't, they will think I'm weak, that I fear him like everyone else does— I can't let that happen. I already moved away once during the last war. I will do so again if it happens again— but I will not stay silent this time."

"You are planning to take an active part in the war?" asked Quinn in surprise.

"War hasn't started yet, son. We're still in the preparatory stages," George said while shaking his head. "Even if it had begun, I have no intention of picking a side on the chessboard or becoming a side. However, what I can do is ensure the white side of the board has the advantage. I will take my revenge and hedge the bets in favor of the side I want to win."

"That sounds like taking a side."

"Not if we stay away," George maintained hard-eye contact with Quinn, "and we stay away."

"We stay away, huh."

George nodded.

"Tell me more about the dinner. Did something interesting happen? I see no reason why the Potters would invite you," asked George.

"The 'objective' of the dinner," said Quinn with air quotes, "was to thank me for the Umbridge situation— it was overdue, as James Potter said. It was an excellent thank you dinner, but the real reason was to bring me to the Light Faction, or at least the Order of Phoenix. He was dropping hints all the way through the time I was there— except that everything was nice."

"And?" asked George.

"What?" counter-asked Quinn.

"Are you going to join Dumbledore's Order of Phoenix?"

"Now, why would I do that?"

"They're looking to recruit you. You obviously got attacked by Death Eaters with the intention to exploit you to get to me, which means they have no intention to solicit you into joining their illustrious ranks. The abduction attempt and their plans for you obviously didn't please you, and knowing you— you may have formed a grudge against them— joining an outfit that combats Death Eater must look like an attractive destination to you right about now."

"That's. . . I mean. . . I wasn't thinking about that," said Quinn.

George just stared at him, which seemed to have to be looking through him.

"I will repeat it, Quinn," he said. "We are staying away. That 'we' means you, me, Lia, Elliot, Rosey, and everyone who works for me. I will say it again and will say it as much as the time is needed from me, so if you need to hear it again, let me know."

Quinn pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes just a smidge. "Why do you think I don't plan to stay away," he asked.

"I am not saying that you don't, but just in case you wanted me to say it, I will say it."

"I don't know if it's just me, but it sounds really passive-aggressive."

George shrugged.

"I understand," sighed Quinn. "We stay away."

He was going to stay away, but the other him could have as much as free reign he wanted— or at least all the freedom he could afford.

Quinn put down his empty glass and stood up from his chair. "I will hop into the shower to freshen up and see you at breakfast." He got a nod in response.

He walked away, but he heard George call out to him just as he was a few steps away.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Remember when I helped you with Labyrinth?"

"Yes, it has worked out very well till now."

"Yes, it has been going well. But I'm talking about the promise you gave me."

That made Quinn's smile pause. He stared at George for a bit before saying, "Yes, I do remember the promise. . . . Have you thought about what you want?"

"No, not yet. I was just saying."

". . . I see."

"Good, you may leave."

And Quinn did just that with a lot of thoughts in his mind.

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Quinn West - MC - That was. . . . strange.

George West - Grandfather - I have spoken.

FictionOnlyReader - Author - Woah. . . that was tense.

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