Chapter 437 One More Left

Quinn sighed as he stepped into the black-stoned corridor from the fireplace behind him. For all the times he had visited Ministry, and there were numerous, Quinn hadn’t entered Whitehall from the VIP entrance. Given his status, one would think he would have used the special entrance at least once.

“Do I have to be here?” Quinn asked as he rotated his right shoulder and shifted his weight between his legs. “You all can take care of it for me.”

George brushed some Floo dust off his shoulder. He looked at Quinn and frowned disapprovingly. “We are here because of you. Do you truly think you’re not required here?”

Quinn shrugged. “I’m a Vigilante, and they’re the DMLE. I don’t think law enforcement like me very much right now or ever. Seeing my face, as charming as it is, wouldn’t make them happy.”

Quinn had been discharged from the hospital when his internal organs had been healed, and his body consisted of four whole limbs. He was still on medication for the dark curse, but that was something that Quinn would have to continue for months before all the effects and danger left his body, never to return ever again. And the first thing home after he was discharged from St. Mungos was to be told that he was to meet the Minister and DMLE higherups regarding his status as Invisible Vigilante.

The truth was that it had been a month since Voldemort had died, and Quinn wanted everything to be over. Alas, the world wasn’t idealistic. He knew it would take some effort before he could leave the past few years of his life behind— but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“As your legal counsel, I would say that you being here is much less ‘offending’ in any situation than you being entirely absent from a dialogue discussing your future in this country,” said the third man beside George and Quinn.

Quinn glanced at the top-bald man with a portly belly dressed in luxurious clothing. Orrin Bach, from Bach & Purrt, was the law firm retained by the Wests for all their legal matter in the British Isles. Quinn had only interacted with the lawyer a few times in private dinners, but from what he knew, the services Orrin provided were worth the price he charged.

“You’re the lawyer,” Quinn shrugged. “I will leave it to you and follow the lead. I will only speak when you tell me to; for the rest, you and grandfather can do the talking.”

“That’d be very helpful,” Orrin smiled, charming and disengaging. “Now, let’s look for our guide, shall we?” He checked his wristwatch. “I believe we are early, but someone should still be here to receive us. . . ah, there they are.”

Across the high dome-shaped hall, a young man rushed towards the West party with hurried steps; he didn’t run; instead power walked on the cusp of breaking into a jog.

Quinn instantly recognized the man: Percy Weasley, the third son of the Weasley family. The former-Headboy, a stickler for rules and the person with ‘most likely to succeed’ as the graduation connotation, but when you flipped it, the same would read: ‘teacher’s pet’— and that’s what Percy Weasely was, a person subservient to the higher authority with dreams to become said higher authority. It was no surprise that even in this timeline, Percy Weasley had become a Ministry employee, and from the fact that he was sent to receive George West, he was making his way up the chain.

Quinn whispered Percy’s identity to George and possible designation.

Percy arrived, took a stealthy breath, and then spoke, “Welcome, Mr. West. My name is Percy Weasley. I hope you’re doing well—”.

“Let’s get moving,” George said and then, without waiting for a reply, started to walk.

Percy looked startled for a second. His eyes moved to Quinn, seemingly asking what to do. Quinn shrugged and then followed after George.

“Lead the way, Mr. Weasley,” Orrin said to Percy, smiling.

“Eh? Ah, yes,” Percy shook his head and hurriedly caught up to George. Percy then tried to make some small talk but was met with a stoic silence from George and could only walk beside him in an awkward silence filled with the sound of footsteps against the marble floor.

Orrin stepped in and engaged Percy in a conversation while.

‘Pity?’ Quinn guessed, but then he listened to the conversation and found that Orrin was getting coaxing information out of Percy. ‘As expected of a lawyer.’

They walked through a few corridors, and after a two-minute walk, they arrived at a double-paned white wood door with an intricate carving of a lady dressed in a toga tending to a sapling. Percy pushed the doors open and invited them into a long conference room with bookshelves covering half the room’s length and the other half having paintings over the wainscotted walls. A long heavy table sat in the middle of the room with a top gleaming as if it had been just waxed a second ago. Around the table were chairs, with green cushions built into the frame, like regimented soldiers— perfect distance and line between each chair and from the table.

Quinn entered the room to the sight of Amelia Bones, Rufus Scrimgeour, Gawain Robards, and two Ministry bigwigs sitting on one side of the table. And sitting alone on the other side, facing the aforementioned, was Dumbledore in his whimsically colored robe, looking back to his usual self than when Quinn had seen him in the hospital— Voldemort had warranted some serious work to be done on Dumbledore; it was only because of Fawkes that Dumbledore had made such a swift and complication-free recovery.

As everyone present in the room stood up to greet George, Quinn walked to one of the chairs and sat down without greeting anyone while all of them were standing. Quinn felt all eyes on him as he got comfortable in his chair. “Ah, my apologies. I recently grew one of my legs back from the base, so it’s very weak right now. The walk here from the Floo was enough to fatigue it out. I can’t stand right now.”

He could use body magic, but why try to tough something out when it wasn’t necessary.

'ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ NovelB(i)n. ᴄᴏᴍ',

“It’s alright, Quinn, you can take it easy,” Dumbledore smiled as he sat down as well. After what Quinn said, given the context, no one was going to get offended that he sat down before everyone.

Everyone took their seats, and the two sides faced each other. Orrin made some small talk with the Ministry group as the water was served by Percy, who then tried to sit down on the far end of the conference table but was sent out by Amelia.

‘Poor guy,’ Quinn thought as he looked at the crestfallen Percy closing the door behind him.

“Let’s get straight to the point,” Rufus Scrimgeour opened the conversation the moment the door closed.

“Fine with us,” Orrin smiled, opening his thick black leather folder.

“You are the Invisible Vigilante,” Rufus looked at Quinn as he said that. Quinn didn’t say anything as planned and simply stared back at Rufus.

“We agree to that in this room,” Orrin replied.

After Quinn had half of his body ripped out of him, there was no way Dumbledore or anyone could have kept Quinn’s identity hidden. He had to be rushed to the hospital to have any chance to preserve his life. Sighting of Dumbledore at St. Mungos couldn’t be hidden when he himself was battered and beaten, and needed medical attention— Ministry bigwigs like Amelia had arrived to check upon Dumbledore and, in turn, had found Quinn— it wasn’t difficult to piece things together after that. Fortunately, that reveal was kept isolated to a few higher-ups and hadn’t made its way to DMLE bullpens much less the front pages of newspapers on every table in homes across the country.

Scrimgeour thinned his eyes at Orrin. “There’s no this room in this matter. Quinn West is the Invisible Vigilante, and we have ample evidence to prove that.”

Orrin smiled.

“Usually, this would mean that he’s going to be tried for his crimes,” Scrimgeour thumped his palm against a stack of files so thick that it would give the chunkiest of encyclopedia competition. “You have so many allegations and records against you that if proven to be true, you wouldn’t be leaving Azkaban anytime soon. You will forget what outside looks like before you get released.”

Quinn continued to gaze at Scrimgeour without an expression on his face or movement in his body.

“As true as that maybe but as you said— that is what usually happens,” Orrin spoke, “but this isn’t usually any way you see it. My client’s actions were aimed at protecting this country from the Dark Lord, and he did exactly that. Quinn is the reason we are sitting here without worry about a murderous Dark Lord threatening the future of this country.”

Quinn held his eyebrows from rising. Orrin was laying it a bit too thick. Yes, his contribution could be said to be the highest— but Orrin was saying this in front of the Head of DMLE and Head Auror, and Dumbledore was sitting on the seat next to the lawyer.

“And the fact that we are even having this meeting means that DMLE has no desire to pursue the charges against the Invisible Vigilante,” Orrin said, finishing his passionate talk. “We want DMLE to erase all of its files on the Invisible Vigilante and Quinn West— and that the Minister issues a formal pardon; of course, none of it needs to be advertised.”

“Full pardon?!” Scrimgeour scoffed hard. “Can you not see the sheer number of charges against him? This would grant him a lifelong spot on DMLE’s most wanted. And you ‘demand’ a full pardon?”

George, who had been quietly listening, spoke before Orrin could reply. “No, we don’t want a full pardon. We want a full pardon and all files to be incinerated. I want DMLE to pretend that the Invisible Vigilante ever existed and act that none of you ever knew that my grandson was the masked outlaw.”

“If that’s what you thought you would get coming here, then you were wrong, Mr. West,” Scrimgeour said, leaning away. “Your grandson has broken more laws than I count on my fingers and has broken them multiple times over. That just can’t go away.”

“I am not asking for it to go away like that. I already provided the Ministry ample reason to do me this service when I filled the DMLE’s war chest. . . no when I made the Ministry’s war chest,” George said.

“That was donations.”

“You can see it any way you like it, but it won’t change the fact that I was the reason that right now you have the resources to round up the Death Eaters and associates and dump them into Azkaban. My family is why you could work without getting muddled in politics. Now is the time to pay up— so pay up.”

“You—”

“Enough, Rufus,” Amelia interrupted the rising tensions between the two sides. “We talked about this before; why are you needlessly trying to make something out of it? No, this is enough,” she said when Rufus tried to argue. She turned to George. “I will give your grandson a formal pardon, but I’m not going to destroy DMLE files. The files will be pushed to the highest level of confidentiality instead. It won’t matter if we DMLE destroyed the Invisible Vigilante files anyway— the Department of Mysteries have files of their own, and they will stay there; there’s nothing I can do about it. So if you want to erase all official traces of this, it won’t be possible.”

Quinn turned to look at George, and he could see that he was thinking of approaching the Department of Mysteries to strike a deal with them. He touched George’s arm and shook his head when George looked at him. Quinn then turned to Orrin and nodded his head.

“My client has decided to accept your proposition,” Orrin said.

“But I will give him a formal pardon on one condition,” suddenly Amelia raised the tension in the room.

Quinn, who had picked up his glass of water, put it down and gazed at Amelia.

“I don’t want to see Invisible Vigilante ever return,” Amelia said. “You aren’t going to ever go out again to—”

'',

“The Invisible Vigilante is dead,” Quinn spoke for the first time in the discussions. He looked at the Ministry group and said, “The Invisible Vigilante died when he closed his eyes at Hogsmeade. You don’t have to worry about it, Minister Bones. . . he won’t ever make an appearance ever again anywhere.”

Quinn wasn’t ever going to take up the mantle ever again. It wasn’t worth it.

After a few minutes of discussion, Quinn’s formal full pardon was finalized. By the end of the week, Quinn was supposed to be a free man with a clean criminal record.

“You sure you don’t want to discuss something about yourself with the Minister,” Quinn said to Dumbledore when they exited the conference room. “Orrin Bach is really good; you can hire him to clear things up with the Minister. You know, just saying.”

“Mr. Bach is too expensive for me,” Dumbledore said with a laugh.

“Ridiculous. You’re an alchemist, professor; you can easily afford him if you wanted,” Quinn scoffed. Dumbledore could’ve been rolling in gold if he made alchemy his primary career instead of being the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Dumbledore laughed again. “Nevertheless, there’s nothing to be smoothed out. That day, I was in contact with the DMLE, and everything that was done was in collaboration with them. Though I feel remorseful for destroying a big part of the village, I should have led Voldemort away. So many possessions destroyed, memories and precious lost, never to be recovered. I feel responsible.”

“There’s no use thinking of that now,” Quinn shrugged. “You can contribute to the village’s reconstruction. I will be giving my share through Scriveshaft; you can do it through Hogwarts.”

“Yes, I might have to do that,” Dumbledore sighed. “Now that you’re pardoned, what do you plan to do?”

Quinn took in a deep breath. “I told you, didn’t I? I’m going to do my apprenticeship under Alan D. Baddeley. Leaving here to stay at his place in New Zealand for a couple of years.”

“After that?”

“Travel. . . learn magic, discover new things, apply myself, and take whatever this world has to offer me.”

“Is teaching in your plans by any chance?”

Quinn laughed. “I’m not going to be a professor at Hogwarts.”

“You never know,” said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eyes.

Quinn snorted.

“If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me,” Dumbledore said.

Quinn shook his head; he couldn’t see him teaching. He had taught Luna and had guided his friends and peers at Hogwarts, but taking teaching as a profession wasn’t something in his cards right now. He had yet to learn so much himself.

Quinn smiled to himself.

Things were finally moving up.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

Quinn West – MC – I’m closing a chapter of my life, and in that chapter, Invisible Vigilante died.

FictionOnlyReader – Author – The next chapter will be the last one…

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.