The Price of Freedom:: The Duke

25 Feb 1922
Blackwood & Son’s Speakeasy
7:00 pm

The door to the private parlor clicked shut, sealing out the music and chatter of the speakeasy just down the hall. The air in the private room was thick with the smell of leather, expensive tobacco, rich woods and aged whisky. It was a space designed for privacy, no windows and just one door made the room dark, only lit from the floating lumos orbs and the roaring fire in the fireplace. The walls were brick, lined with bookcases. Filled with old, cracked, leatherbound books that no one had read for generations.

In the center of the room sat two overstuffed leather sofas, gleaming in the firelight. Between them stood a low table of polished mahogany, currently holding a crystal decanter of amber liquid and a humidor lined in emerald fabric.

Gideon sat on the sofa facing the door, waiting for his guest to arrive. A cigar in one hand, the burning tip glowing in the room. His other hand held a glass of the most expensive whisky in the bar. Only the good stuff tonight.

As the door opened, Gideon was not surprised to see James Laurence, The Duke of Norfolk, Earl of Arundel, enter the room. Too many words in one man’s name, it was ridiculous really. And soon, if all went as planned, the Duke would add another title to his already long moniker.

In this room Gideon was not ‘Deputy Headmaster’ or ‘Professor.’ There was a different air about him. This Gideon would break up bar fights on Saturday nights. Toss out cheaters there for a night of poker. If a patron got a little handsy with the female staff, he would have no trouble sending a message (physically) that it wasn’t allowed. The Gideon that walked around the halls of Hogwarts was a different man entirely. Love will do that to you.

Gideon eyed the man entering the room. In a low gruff voice, with a hint of sarcasm, he said, “Your Grace.” Bringing the glass to his lips to hide his smirk. “Nice of you to join me. Please, help yourself to a drink or smoke. Take a seat, we have much to discuss.”

'Your Grace' was always said in one of two ways.

The first was polite, acknowledging the millennia of history and contributions his family had provided the realm. The Duchy of Norfolk wasn't a small one, not in the aspect of kilometers or acreage, but in the imagery it commanded at the utterance of its name. It was one of the oldest duchies in Britain and had seen a thousand years of battles, conquests, tyrants, benevolence, intrigues and usurpations. Countless families had fallen through the centuries. Their own had seen many of their members arrested, betrayed, executed, but the Norfolks - the Laurences - survived.

Therefore, the polite acknowledgement of that came and went with ease. James never commanded it or requested it, finding it to be a bit pretentious to do so, but he also never turned his nose up at it. If people knew their place, then so be it.

The second was sarcastic, as though who he was and where he came from was to be loathed. As though someone like Gideon Blackwood wouldn't have given this very establishment to be in James's place. Amusing, he always found it, how bitter people seemed to be when they mocked the formal airs some others used for him.

He supposed Gideon had reason to feel bitter.

"Much to discuss," James said, mulling the idea in his head as he helped himself to a shot of brandy. "I suppose we do. Now that Barlowe's trial is out of the way, we can narrow in on the actual target." He turned back to Gideon, swirling the amber liquid in the short glass as he studied him.

"Do share your thoughts so far, Blackwood," James said easily, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, the familiar dimples that his sister also wore peeking their way through.

"I imagine you have many of them."

"Now that Barlowe's trial is out of the way, we can narrow in on the actual target."

Wylder. The Minister of Magic was not going to hold office for much longer. Gideon would lose no sleep over this, the man wasn’t fit for the post.

“Do share your thoughts so far, Blackwood, I imagine you have many of them."

Gideon leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His head quirked to the side, as if he was thinking of the right words to say. “My thoughts? My thoughts are that the Wizengamot is a theater James. And we just finished the dress rehearsal."

After the first three trials, the Wizengamot was familiar with the case, but Wylder wasn’t just looking at Child Endangerment and Manslaughter.

"The Child Endangerment and Manslaughter charges are old hat at this point. Put me on the stand, I’ll make him look like the incompetent fool that he is. But Conspiracy and Treason? That’s where we twist the knife. To make those stick, we have to prove he wasn't just incompetent, we have to prove he was complicit. What’s your play for the Conspiracy angle? I assume you have someone on the inside ready to turn?"

He took a long, slow draw of his cigar, the tip flaring bright in the dark space, waiting for James to direct his next move.

“My thoughts? My thoughts are that the Wizengamot is a theater James. And we just finished the dress rehearsal."

"Isn't everything theatre?" James asked. He shoved a hand in his pocket, as he tilted his head back, taking the shot in one go. He relished the burn, letting the smooth flavor coat his lips as he set the glass back on the bar and studied it for a moment. "Politics. Law. Business. Even education." Honey-brown eyes turned back to rest on that of the Deputy Headmaster. "Everything's a show, directed by those that are savvy enough to know how to pull the strings."

Merrow's case was the grand finale in a series of trials that had held the Wizarding world by the throat. And James intended for it to be a spectacular one.

"The Child Endangerment and Manslaughter charges are old hat at this point. Put me on the stand, I’ll make him look like the incompetent fool that he is."

James was sure that Gideon would. There were few redeeming moments for the Minister that had taken place in that tower. Throw Blackwood up there along with a couple of the students and it was open and shut for the charges that now held Haswell in the dark prison.

But it wasn't enough. James didn't want Merrow going away for a couple of years, ready to make a great comeback story when he was inevitably released. He wanted to destroy the man's name, reputation and character. He wanted the man so decimated that if he were ever released, a fascist dictator would receive a warmer reception than the man that had betrayed his country and its children.

"But Conspiracy and Treason? That’s where we twist the knife. To make those stick, we have to prove he wasn't just incompetent, we have to prove he was complicit. What’s your play for the Conspiracy angle? I assume you have someone on the inside ready to turn?"

"Faithful are you?" James grinned, and he wandered over to an armchair near the sofa, dropping himself down on it. He would be remise to give Blackwood all the details of what he and Harper had managed to set into play. It was no secret the professor wasn't James's biggest fan, and what good would it do to give him leverage to take him out one day if there was no need?

Still, James wasn't an idiot. He knew if this were all to go to plan, Blackwood would need to be brought in on some of it. The hows, whys, logistics of it all? Probably too much information.

"I have someone on the inside, yes. Several someones." In case there was a desire to go sniffing for blood. "Conspiracy is easy if you know where to lay the pieces, Blackwood. A few financial documents, a witness here or there coerced into leveraging that evidence." He snapped his fingers lightly.

"At the end of the trial, everyone will be convinced Merrow was working hand-in-hand with not only Thayer and Farrow but Holloway as well. Simple negligence won't fly in the face of a Wizarding world that entrusted this man with the safety of its children. Perhaps for you, for Barlowe and Haswell those excuses made sense." He gave a slight shrug.

"The Minister? The highest office in this land? Preposterous." His grin returned, slight at first, before spreading across his features. "There's many hands at play here. But there's one in particular I need from you."

"Isn't everything theatre? Politics. Law. Business. Even education. Everything's a show, directed by those that are savvy enough to know how to pull the strings."

A puppet master. The man sitting in front of him, the perfect representation of the word.

"Faithful are you?"

Finishing off his drink, Gideon shrugged at the question. He knew his place. In the military Gideon was a soldier, never an officer. He knew how to take direction, follow orders. It had served him well in many aspects of his life, including the one he currently found himself in.

"I have someone on the inside, yes. Several someones. Conspiracy is easy if you know where to lay the pieces, Blackwood. A few financial documents, a witness here or there coerced into leveraging that evidence."

Gideon didn’t ask questions. He wouldn’t be given answers. Again, he wasn’t in charge, not the King nor Queen of this chess game. James was the one sliding the pieces across the ornate chess board.

He knew what he was. He was the Rook.

A heavy, solid piece of stone, waiting in the corner of the board until the path was cleared. He didn't need to know the grand strategy; he just needed a straight line and a clear target. He could make a case for the knight, but in the end, he hoped he wasn’t a pawn.

"At the end of the trial, everyone will be convinced Merrow was working hand-in-hand with not only Thayer and Farrow but Holloway as well. Simple negligence won't fly in the face of a Wizarding world that entrusted this man with the safety of its children. Perhaps for you, for Barlowe and Haswell those excuses made sense." He sat still at that. No use biting back, it was over, he was free, Ruby took the fall, as she should.

"The Minister? The highest office in this land? Preposterous. There's many hands at play here. But there's one in particular I need from you."

And here it was. The pieces were in play, the board was open, Gideon’s target was about to be uncovered. He had a few ideas of what he might be asked to do, but the possibilities were endless, especially not knowing all the pieces in play.

“I’m listening.” He said, looking James in the eyes. He made the decision to work with James to guarantee his freedom, he wouldn’t be backing down now.

“Good.”

Listening was half the battle. James had learned throughout his years that getting people to listen when they wanted to speak was an art - one that he hated navigating. Blackwood being willing to listen straight off made all of it easier. They could get right to the point.

“I’ll need you to testify, naturally.” He leaned forward on his knees, keeping his eyes trained on Gideon’s. It wasn’t as simple as talking about the night in the tower. If he was going to destroy Merrow and who he was in the public eye, then Gideon was the key to hitting him where it hurt.

“You served with him in the military. He’s decorated, obviously. There’s no disputing that he was a good soldier.” If he could, he’d have Gideon blast the man ten ways to Sunday on some shoddy military service, but the focus needed to be on the here and now.

“What’s worse than a military hero disgracing himself with a muggle-sympathizing cult?”

He took a breath, his tone growing more serious.

“I need you to testify that he came here. September 1920. Met directly with Thayer in your bar under the guise that they’d have privacy. You weren’t here obviously but your bartender or whomever served them. Overheard their conversation. We can discuss specifics. But the focus needs to be that they were discussing the upcoming carnival.”

He clicked his tongue once, before his signature grin spread across his lips again. “Can you do that Blackwood?” He didn’t have much of a choice, did he?

“You served with him in the military. He’s decorated, obviously. There’s no disputing that he was a good soldier.” Gideon leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. He took in the statement, didn’t dispute it, also didn’t agree. Wylder was a decorated soldier. They were in the same company, so Gideon knew more than others what type of ‘leader’ the man was. Sure, he respected him as the leader of their company, followed his orders like all soldiers were trained to do, but that didn’t mean he agreed with all his decisions.

This seemed to carry over into their non-military relationship as well.

“What’s worse than a military hero disgracing himself with a muggle-sympathizing cult?”

Gideon still didn’t speak, but his eyebrows rose into his hairline. He was more than a little intrigued at where this was heading.

“I need you to testify that he came here. September 1920. Met directly with Thayer in your bar under the guise that they’d have privacy. You weren’t here obviously but your bartender or whomever served them. Overheard their conversation. We can discuss specifics. But the focus needs to be that they were discussing the upcoming carnival.”

And there it was. Gideon was being asked to lie, under oath, to the Wizengamot. This wasn’t a surprise, but he didn’t like to hear it.

He had signed up for this, when he brokered his freedom. Standing, Gideon took his glass and filled it up with two fingers of amber liquid. Draining the glass in one quick shot, he placed it on the table in a loud clank. Moving around the room, not looking at James, his brain moving a mile a minute.

Stopping, thinking about the logistics of the situation, Gideon clasped his hands behind his neck and stared at the ceiling. He could feel the warmth of the alcohol moving through his veins. Angling his head to the right, he heard a crack, then to the left, another crack filled the quiet room. Then he brought his hands in front of him, and cracked his knuckles.

He looked like a man getting ready for a fight.

“Can you do that Blackwood?”

Crossing his arms, feet set apart, stance wide he looked at James. “I can do it, but we will need to work out the specifics. Such as, my bartender told me after the carnival, not before. He was worried about coming forward, for obvious reasons. And as to why I didn’t step forward sooner, well,” he said with a shrug. “Who was I going to tell? The man in question of treason and conspiracy, or the aurors who worked for him.”