Grey couldn't tear his eyes away from Mrs Myers as he found himself frozen in place. He was actually grateful when Dumbledore pulled him gently backwards and wrapped a shielding arm around his shoulder.
"Grey has had an awful ordeal, perhaps it's best we discuss-"
Elks' scurrying suggestion dwindled as the lady shot her fiery glare briefly in his direction. Once she was sure he was silenced, she turned her attention back to the pair.
"Well if this one's here, where the hell is my boy?" She demanded sharply.
Mr Myers approached, standing boldly behind his wife. Grey didn't know what to say but the guilt was returning painfully and steadily.
At that moment, two more figures appeared through the door. The first was the concerned visage of Headmaster Dippet. But the second made Grey's blood boil.
Professor Fallow entered, wearing a false expression of deep worry. Instinctually, Grey reached for his wand. He'd forgotten in the panic that it had been snapped. The anger was enough to energise him momentarily and in an instant, he had detached from Dumbledore, striding past the Myers and straight at Fallow.
A collective gasp of shock echoed around the entrance hall as Grey's fist connected with his professor's nose. He watched, still unsatisfied, as the man stumbled back, clutching his now bleeding nose.
It wasn't enough. He deserved more.
Grey went to strike again but Elks immediately grabbed his arms and held him back.
"What is the meaning of this Mr Willow?" The headmaster exclaimed in utter shock.
Grey glared, wishing his look was enough to hurt Fallow.
"He works for Grindelwald," Seethed Grey, "He was the one who smuggled us out of the castle."
At his words, Elks instantly released him, brandishing his wand at Fallow. It took every mote of strength in Grey not to fly at the man again.
"Is this true, Elmore?" Dippet inquired sternly.
Fallow scoffed, wiping his bloody hands on his robes.
"Of course not, the boy's clearly delusional." He spat.
Fuck strength. Grey started towards him again.
This time around, Dumbledore grabbed him and pulled him back from Fallow. The anger and guilt now firing in Grey was blinding.
"It's ok," He heard Dumbledore mutter softly in his ear, but the reassuring words did nothing to calm him.
"I am not delusional," Grey fumed, "You came to us that morning, threatened to kill him."
He couldn't bring himself to say Richard's name. A whimper sounded from one of the Myers, he was unsure which. Meanwhile, Fallow fixed him with a piteous look.
"Poor lad, probably confunded," He sighed.
"I am not confunded!" Grey strained as he tried to wrestle free of Dumbledore's hold.
Much to Grey's surprise, Prendergast spoke up. His voice was steady but Grey noticed he had Fallow fixed with a loathing look.
"So you wouldn't mind confirming it under Veritaserum, Elmore? I have a batch."
Fallow's cool demeanour faltered slightly.
"Surely there's no need for that?" He objected.
"These are dark times Elmore." Elks retorted coldly.
"Yes, dark times indeed," Echoed Dippet, "Sometimes such extreme measures are necessary."
The next events unfolded extremely quickly.
Fallow drew his wand and fired a spell in Grey's direction. Elks immediately blocked it. Before he realised what had happened, Fallow's wand was in Elks' hand and the divination professor was bound and on his knees. Dumbledore loosened his grip on Grey slightly, but not fully.
"Thank you, Wilford," Dippet sighed, "If you would take him up to my office and owl the ministry, I believe we have one for questioning."
Elks carried out the headmaster's order, swiftly dragging Fallow away.
Dumbledore let him go but stayed close next to him. He knew the worst wasn't over. Turning his attention back to the Myers, Grey noticed they both looked far more panicked than angry now.
"Please," Mrs Myers pleaded shakily, "Where is Richard?"
Both Prendergast and Dippet fixed their attention on Grey. He didn't want to be the one to tell them, but it seemed he had no other choice.
Grey swallowed thickly. For their sake, he had to put his feelings aside and tell them properly. He steeled himself.
"There was an incident this morning," He began stoically, "Mr Scamander's rescue mission went wrong and he was captured. Grindelwald was preparing to kill him in front of us all. But when he cast the curse, Richard-"
He paused as all the emotions threatened to spill past his defences.
"Richard jumped in front."
Mr Myers gasped, dissolving into tears. Hearing his pained cries was unbearable. But Mrs Myers' face was blank of emotion. She just watched him closely. Maybe she hadn't understood?
"I'm so sorry," Grey whispered, struggling to stay steady, "He sacrificed himself for Newt."
A snap of pain hit his cheek and Grey's head whipped to the side. Mrs Myers stood aloft but didn't seem to be about to strike again. Grey tried to back away as she leaned towards him.
"My beautiful son died because of you." She whispered fiercely, "Don't you dare talk to me of sacrifice."
Then she turned away, embracing her husband. Everyone else looked on in shock and horror.
But Grey stood frozen, still reeling from the sting of her words. Of course, they were deserved but it hurt nonetheless to hear his own thoughts so brutally out loud. Prendergast led the grieving couple away. The headmaster made to follow but paused before leaving.
"I am so sorry, Mr Willow," He sighed. Then he left too.
All that remained were the Dumbledores and Nurse Sullivan. Grey hardly knew what to do. It was like a million feelings were forcefully trying to burst out of him all at once. Restrained tears stung his eyes and his whole body was trembling.
Slowly, Professor Dumbledore moved into his vision. The man wore a saddened expression as he gently placed his hand on Grey's shoulder. In that moment, the contact felt like a lifeline.
"Do you want to go to the hospital wing?" He asked gently.
However, Grey couldn't think of anything but Richard.
"I didn't mean to," He mumbled, his voice cracking.
Dumbledore's eyes filled with pity.
"You didn't -"
"I should've stopped him coming," Grey continued, "But I didn't want to be alone, I-"
But his face crumpled and he could no longer hold back the tears. Immediately, the man pulled Grey into a tight embrace, cradling his head with one hand.
"He's gone." Grey sobbed into Dumbledore's shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Grey."
"He's gone."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Once settled in the hospital wing, Grey was handed a steaming cup of potion. Nurse Sullivan thought it best that he slept for a few hours and he wasn't about to refuse unfeeling, thoughtless bliss. After his breakdown in the entrance hall, Grey had returned to his previous state of numbness but though he lacked feeling, his thoughts still plagued him.
He drank the sleeping draught eagerly, longing to just be free of everything for at least a few hours. Dreamless sleep was a welcome escape. But it was short-lived. The lack of dreams meant the time passed in a mere moment and though Grey was no longer tired, the heavy numbness remained.
And he wasn't alone. Dumbledore and his brother were in chairs at his bedside. The company was strange to Grey, though he surmised they were probably trying to fulfil their 'family duties'. He knew, the quicker he told them they needn't bother, the easier everything would be.
Aberforth noticed he was awake first. He unceremoniously whacked Dumbledore's arm, causing the professor to snap to awareness. Grey wondered how long they'd been there.
"Morning," Dumbledore smiled.
Morning? Had he slept that long?
"What day is it?" He asked.
"13th of April, last day of the holidays," Dumbledore answered.
That explained the lack of students. He had been surprised when the altercation in the entrance hall hadn't attracted a gaping audience but he supposed, after recent events, that parents were eager to recall their children for the holidays.
Lost in thought, Grey was vaguely aware of his professor filling a glass of water and placing it in his hands. The gesture, though simple, held uncomfortable paternal undertones in Grey's mind. He better get this over with.
"You don't have to do this," He mumbled, glancing between the two men.
Dumbledore frowned.
"Do what?"
"Pretend we are a family." Sighed Grey, "I know you technically are my father but you don't have to worry. We don't need to act like family, things can just be like they were before."
As he rambled on, Grey wondered if he even meant what he was saying. But he tried his best to shove that thought aside. He wasn't sure what reaction to expect from the Dumbledores. Venturing to survey them both, he saw that Aberforth's gaze was on the floor as he tried to mask what looked like anger, however, Dumbledore just looked tired.
"I know you struggle to understand feelings, Grey," He began calmly, "But you know, I already care for you and I would be lying if I said I hadn't felt a paternal element to that in the past. My brother and I had difficult relations with our family. And sadly those relationships only ended in grief."
He paused, clearing his throat. Grey could not meet his eye.
"When I found out what you were to me, it was the happiest and saddest I have felt in many years. But I understood instantly that I wanted to be your father. I - we failed Ariana,"
His voice broke slightly and Aberforth made a noise of discontent. Both only made Grey feel guilty.
"We discussed it and agreed to try to be a family again and more importantly we committed to not failing you too." Dumbledore finished quietly.
Sipping his water, Grey tried to process this. It certainly had not been what he was expecting.
"I am happy that you are my son, Grey," He added and Grey noted a mote of desperation in his tone.
"But I'm his son too."
The words escaped Grey remorsefully. But he dared to meet Dumbledore's eyes to find they were filled with hope, but despair also. Yet, it was Aberfoth that spoke next.
"Well, he's not here, is he." He grunted gruffly.
"No, he's not," Dumbledore contested, "He has no right to be."
Confusion knotted in Grey's stomach.
"I hate him," He cursed, twisting the bedsheets in his hands.
There was a brief silence.
"Do you hate me?"
Dumbledore's question sounded so hesitant, uncharacteristically so.
"He tried to make me hate you," Grey confessed, "I thought I did, I tried to. But I never could truly get myself to believe it."
Relief flickered behind the professor's eyes.
"Are you ready to talk more about your time there?" He asked.
Grey wanted to say no, desperately. But he felt that he owed it to them.
"What do you want to know?" He asked anxiously.
"Everything."
So Grey began to recite the past month, starting with the letter. It appeared that Fallow must have commandeered his clever copy because no one had found it. Every mention of Richard caused the guilt to swirl in his stomach, fighting with the grief. However, he pressed diligently on.
Occasionally, his spectators would interject with a more in-depth question but mostly they listened in silence. Both seemed particularly unsettled when Grey recounted the incident with the cruciatus curse and the various events following the discovery of the blood pact book.
By the time he finished his retelling, Grey felt wholely numb once again. The effort of remembering had zapped him of any energy. The Dumbledores sat silently, in a state of reserved horror. It took several moments for anyone to speak but Grey was hardly surprised.
"I need a drink," Aberforth groaned, rubbing his face.
He glanced at his elder brother, apparently trying to convey something with just a look. Finally, after a moment, he rose to his feet.
"I'm going to speak to Sullivan about finding you some breakfast."
He smiled briefly at Grey before hurrying away.
"I wish I was surprised at Gellert's actions," Dumbledore mused, breaking the silence.
He drew the blood pact from his pocket and let it drift lazily in Grey's direction, observing its movement.
"I often wonder how we could have been so foolish, as to make this. But, then again, love is blinding."
He smiled sadly to himself as the silver trinket pressed against Grey's forehead. Reaching up, the boy grasped it, feeling again that same connection and nostalgia. However, now with it in his hand, the sensation was magnified. Through the emptiness, inexplicable tears rose to his eyes, yet, somehow he understood that the emotion behind them was not his.
Carefully, Dumbledore took it from his hand. The tears fell and the sensation stopped. He wiped his tears.
"At least it gave us you."
A flicker of feeling twinged in Grey's chest.
"What would you have called me, if you'd found me?"
It was a silly question to ask but something inside him wanted to imagine a different version of his childhood. Dumbledore just chuckled.
"I always liked the name Fen for a boy," He surmised.
Fen. It was simple but interesting, not a bad choice. Grey stared silently at his bedsheets, lost in a past that never was. His trance was broken when a plate of food was planted in his lap.
"Best I could find," Huffed Aberforth, retaking his seat, "Nothing on my cooking of course."
Grey made a mental note that his uncle liked to cook. He wasn't particularly hungry, but he knew that refusing to eat would only make matters worse, so he tucked into the porridge he'd been given.
"We should take him to Ollivanders once he's rested up, he needs a new wand before term starts," Aberforth suggested.
His father agreed.