Marauders - Always - Part One

CXCV: You Won't Be Able To Come Back

Wally Grant stood beside the bed, suitcase open, folding a couple shirts and laying them into the case. Geri Grant sat on the bed just beyond it, watching, brushing Olivia's hair.

"How long will you be away, Da?" the little girl asked.

"Not long," Wally said. He felt guilty even as he said the words. "Dad's just got some things to do for work is all, going for a couple of days and then I'll be right back here with you and mummy."

Olivia smiled.

So did Geri.

Wally's hands shook and he turned 'round to collect some other belongings - a book, his reading glasses, and a walkman, bundled up with a few of his favorite mix tapes. He slipped them into the suitcase. "Should about do it," he said, closing up the case and closing the clasps.

Olivia rolled across the bed, mussing up the hair Geri had so carefully brushed, and jumped up into her father's arms. "Oooh Da, will you bring me home presents?"

"Don't I always?"

"A snowglobe?"

"If I find one, it shall be yours," he nodded.

Olivia's arms were about her father's neck and she hugged on tight as he held her close and kissed the top of her head.

Geri came 'round the bed and hugged him, too, looked up into his eyes, searching for reassurance, "We'll be waiting for you to come home, remember," she said.

Wally nodded and bent to kiss her lips. "I know," he murmured against them before pressing in deeper.

The floo network was jammed and it took a few minutes to get through in Hogsmeade because there was a queue trying to jostle into the Three Broomsticks and the Hogs Head alike. Seemed like half of the Wizarding World was headed to Hogwarts for the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Wally ended up slipping through ahead of a family with several small children who were wearing Gryffindor red jumpers with Harry Potter's photo emblazoned on - the one from the Daily Prophet the week before, in which the poor chap looked utterly perplexed and desperate to get away.

Wally himself had no identifying markers for which Champion he was cheering on; rather, he had arrived already in magenta scrubs and a turquoise and black band about his arm which declared him a medic.

He slipped between the crowds in the pub, keeping his head down, his medic bag slung round his torso, the suitcase in his hand, pressing his way out onto the street.

There had been bunting hung between the lamp posts in the colors of the schools and people going on selling all sorts of trinkets and souvenirs. He recongized some of the sellers from Diagon and Knockturn Alleys peddling wares of charmed stones and amulets bewitched to bring good luck upon the head of the Champion of choice for the buyer. "Give 'arry Pott'ah a bitta luck for a pence?" One called out, "Or mebbe you prefer the luck'a the wee girl?" Wally shook his head as he passed by. He was determined to remain neutral.

The Inn loomed ahead of him and his heart thumped wildly in his chest as he stared up at the window, curtain drawn and dark. There was no way even to tell if Oliver Kent was up there - he might be mingling in the crowd or up at the castle with his Champion or gone off home or all Wally knew. Or at least he hoped so - if Oliver Kent was out from the Inn, then it would give him another few hours before he had to face him.

Wally realized he'd been standing far too long and he took a deep breath.

The inn was busy enough that no attention was paid him as he walked quickly through the lobby and up the stairs to the room door, where he rapped upon it with his knuckles.