127Chapter 1: In Which Frank Bryce Takes Action
Disclaimer: I own nothing because...you know...I'm not a literary genius.
The villagers of Little Hangleton held many prejudices and misconceptions about their fellow inhabitants in the village. Any individual who had a pint at The Hanged Man, the village pub, would hear all types of rumors about the people in the little village.
"I hear Mr. Davies has himself a girlfriend in the city. Poor Mrs. Davies doesn't have a clue…"
"If you ask me, Miss Taylor is going to turn into an old maid. She is so unkind to people…"
"Did you meet that new man? Mr. Khawaja? Just moved here from Pakistan….bet he's running from some kind of legal trouble…"
Almost no one was immune from the rumors and gossip. However, one individual was the favorite topic of conversation and it just so happened that all the rumors about him were untrue.
"He is an old hermit. Never cared for anyone. Came back from the war and murdered the Riddle family."
"He got away with it too. Devious killer he is. Probably learned it fighting the Nazis."
"Luckily for us the old coot can't hardly move anymore. Imagine it will only be a couple more years till he is permanently in a wheelchair. On that day, I know I will sleep more soundly."
Frank Bryce was, by nature, a solitary man. He grew up in the neighboring town of Great Hangleton as a quiet, thoughtful child of a single mother. Frank was always slow to make friends and much preferred walking alone through the countryside over playing with other children. Children can be quite cruel and growing up without a father made him the object of ridicule among his peers.
Frank's father, Frederick Bryce, died fighting in the Great War in a ditch in France. Frederick had left his pregnant wife saying that he needed to do his duty and serve his country. He told Frank's mother that he felt destined for something in France. It was a short three months later that Frank's mother received a letter talking about Frederick's heroism in battle and how his sacrifice had saved five other men. Frederick's last letter home talked about his sense of duty, and how he felt like he was in France for some cosmic purpose that was soon to come. In honor of his valor, Frederick was awarded the Military Cross. It was with this sense of purpose, duty, and divine fate that Frank grew up. His prized possession being a shadowbox containing his father's Military Cross, which he kept on his bedside table.
Frank lived a mostly solitary life in Great Hangleton until his 19th summer; when he met Emily. Frank was walking down the road in Great Hangleton on a warm summer day when he spotted her; a beautiful, petite brunette walking toward the little general store. Frank stood frozen to the spot and gazed at her as she turned to walk into the store. He had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life and he quickly ran into the general store after her.
Frank had no plan as he hurried through the door of the general store. He had very little experience talking to people, let alone a girl he was trying to woo. He quickly glanced around the store and saw her disappearing behind a display of food jars. Frank made his way over to the display, finally deciding on a simple introduction of "Hello". However, as he turned the corner of the display, his elbow hit several of the jars. Before he could stop it, one of the jars fell off the display and crashed to the floor, spilling pickled beets all over the place. He gazed down at the mess in horror and felt his face go bright red.
As Frank stared at the floor, he heard a soft laugh coming from down the aisle. He glanced up and saw the pretty brunette covering her mouth to hide her laughter. Embarrassed, Frank looked back down and quickly tried to back away from the situation. Just as he was about to turn and run for it, he felt a gentle touch on his forearm.
"Are you alright?" A caring voice asked.
"Yes, I'm fine. Just a little clumsy." He replied, gazing up into her soft brown eyes. "I apologize for disturbing you."
"No problem at all. I'm Emily."
"Uh…Frank. Are you new in town?"
"Just moved here with my family. Could really use someone to show me around..." Frank could hear the suggestive hint in her voice. He could have been mistaken but he also thought he heard a hopeful tone there as well.
Not allowing himself to get tongue-tied, Frank quickly responded, "I would be happy to show you the best spots."
"Great!"
After that initial meeting and for the next three years, Frank's solitary life turned into a social life. Emily introduced Frank to friends, parties, and, his favorite, dancing. Frank loved dancing with Emily. Not because he was the most coordinated or suave dancer, but because Emily had the most brilliant smile when she was dancing. Frank could spend hours holding Emily close or swinging her around the dance hall as long as she kept that smile on her face. It was during the Christmas dance of 1939 that Frank held Emily close and asked her to marry him. She immediately said, "Yes", and they spent the rest of the night twirling away with only eyes for each other. The wedding would have to wait, though.
June 1940 and the United Kingdom had to abandon mainland Europe at Dunkirk. France surrendered and the UK stood alone against the Nazi Third Reich. Following in the steps of his father, Frank enlisted in the Army and was shipped off to Egypt to fight. Frank had dreams of being a hero, saving a company of men, and living up to his father's legacy. He dreamed of returning home to Emily with a chest full of medals and making the whole of Hangleton proud. Those dreams, however, did not hold up to the harsh realities of war. During his first battle, a small engagement between his company and the Italians, Frank saw friends of his torn to pieces; crying out for their mothers and wives in the hot desert sun. He was surrounded by hot, exploding metal and loud noises from every direction. When the sun finally set, the Italians had been pushed back but Frank could not stop his hands from shivering.
This experience changed Frank and caused him to come up with a new "dream" for the war. Get home to Emily. No matter what he had to do or how he had to do it, he would return home to Emily. His father's legacy be damned, Emily was much more important than anything else. He could not let himself die. He would lay down every night and thank God he had made it through another day. He would kiss Emily's photograph and fall asleep thinking about holding her tight while a slow jazz tune hummed away. His frequent letters to Emily spoke of none of this. He would always tell her that he was "doing well" and hadn't "seen much action". He would tell her that he loved her, to check on his mom for him, and, most importantly, that he would be home to take her dancing as soon as possible.
This last promise, sadly, would not be kept. Emily moved to London soon after Frank left, to work in the city. During the winter of 1940, the German bombing campaign over Britain intensified with a focus on civilian targets. On a cloudy, cold night in February, a German bomb struck the building where Emily's flat was located. All 20 people in the building, including Emily, died before a call for help was even uttered.
Confusion hit Frank first when he received a letter from Emily's parents instead of Emily. That confusion quickly turned to denial, agony, and anger as the reality of Emily's death set in. Never again would Frank hold Emily close. Never again would he get to dance with her. Never again would he see that smile or hear her laugh during a particularly fast tune. His world shattered, and he did not care whether he lived or died in that moment. All Frank wanted was revenge.
Frank's opportunity for revenge came three days later when his company was ordered to attack the Italian line. Frank was the first out of his foxhole, but a sniper's bullet hit him in the knee when he was only 100 feet from his own foxhole. He tried to continue on, but eventually collapsed from the pain and heat.
Frank awoke in a hospital room in Cairo. The doctors told him that he would need a lot of rehabilitation, but he would keep his leg. However, for him, the war was over. Frank spent his days in the hospital feeling ashamed and angry. Ashamed at himself for not living up to his father's legacy, and angry at everyone else because his Emily was gone. During this time, Frank retreated to his basic nature of solitude. He barely spoke to anyone and avoided groups of people whenever possible.
Frank returned home a couple of years later and packed away all of his photos of Emily into his army footlocker. He could not take the pain associated with looking into her smiling face. Almost as an afterthought, Frank tossed his father's Military Cross on top of the pile of photos. Frank found work in Little Hangleton as the gardener for Mr. and Mrs. Riddle. The job included a small cottage on the property, and Frank dedicated his life to the upkeep of the manor and having as little human contact as possible. In fact, it was his dedication to the manor, which found Frank standing in the second floor hallway of that same manor on a warm August night listening to two people plotting murder.
"My Lord, Bertha Jorkins's disappearance will not go unnoticed for long and if we proceed, if I murder –" said Wormtail.
"If?" whispered the second voice. "If? If you follow the plan, Wormtail, the Ministry need never know that anyone else has died. You will do it quietly and without fuss; I only wish that I could do it myself, but in my present condition… Come, Wormtail, one more death and our path to Harry Potter is clear. I am not asking you to do it alone. By that time, my faithful servant will have rejoined us –".
Frank's heart was thumping in his chest. These two were talking about murdering someone else and this Harry Potter was in danger. Much of what they were saying seemed to be in code. Obviously the terms "magic", "Quidditch", and "wizards" covered the details of their nefarious plot. With a slight tremor, Frank straightened his back and made a decision. Quietly, he turned and made his way down the stairs. As he reached the first floor, he realized that he left at just the right time as a large snake slithered down the hallway right past where he had been standing.
As he turned toward the kitchen, Frank heard a hissing coming from the upstairs room and had a crazy thought. This man, whoever he was, could talk to snakes.
"No need to be quiet anymore Wormtail. Nagini says that the house is abandoned. She can only smell the gardener and we will take care of him tomorrow."
With a slight shudder, Frank continued into the kitchen and out the back door. He hurried down the slope the manor stood on and walked around the small graveyard at the base of the hill. As fast as his knee would allow him to go, Frank walked into the center of Little Hangleton, straight to the old telephone box. Frank picked up the receiver, placed his finger in the nine hole of the rotary phone and rotated it around. He repeated the action two more times…
"Hangleton Police. Sergeant Pryor speaking. Please state the nature of your emergency." The voice over the phone stated.
"Hello, this is Frank Bryce, the gardener for the Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton. There are two men in the old Riddle manor and I overheard them talking about a murder they committed and one they are going to commit." Frank released in one breath.
"Mr. Bryce… Are you sure that is what you heard?" Sergeant Pryor asked.
Frank huffed. "Yes, I'm sure that's what I heard."
At that moment, Inspector Wilson walked into the call center. "Who is that, Sergeant?"
The Sergeant lowered the phone receiver and covered it with his hand. "Old Frank Bryce in Little Hangleton."
"Oh yeah? What does that old murderer want?"
"Says there are some men in the Riddle manor talking about murder."
"Ha…is he sure it isn't just himself thinking those thoughts? Crazy old man is probably going insane and wants to relive the old days."
Sergeant Pryor lifted the phone back to his ear. "Mr. Bryce, would you mind describing those men and some more of what they talked about?"
"I didn't get a look at them. They talked about killing a woman named Bertha Jorkins and about planning to harm a Harry Potter." Frank replied. "I don't know what else they were saying. They were speaking in code. Talking about magic, wizards, and something called Quidditch."
Sergeant Pryor could not stop the snort from escaping his nose, but attempted to cover it with a cough. "Ahem...sorry, Mr. Bryce, hold on one second." Then, to Inspector Wilson who was taking a long sip from his coffee mug, "He says he didn't see them but they were talking about wizards and Quidditch…"
This made Inspector Wilson spit out his coffee and adopt a very serious tone. "Pryor, tell Bryce that someone will be by to pick him up and to stay there. Impress upon him not to go back to the manor. That his life could be in danger. Then tell the closest constable to swing by, pick Bryce up, and bring him straight to me. Do you understand?"
Pryor nodded and quickly followed the Inspector's instructions. When he was finished, he looked at the Inspector and asked the obvious question. "What is this all about, sir?"
"This just came down from the Home Office last week. Any suspicious person talking about "wizards", "Quidditch", "wands", or any magical nonsense is to be considered dangerous. They should be avoided at all costs and a call should be placed to the Home Office. They will send someone to deal with it immediately.
Twenty minutes later and Frank Bryce was sitting in a police interrogation room for the second time in his life. He had not been told what was going on or why he had been picked up. He figured that the police would try and pin something on him again like they had with the Riddle murders. Maybe, he thought to himself, he would plead guilty to whatever they said. At least then he could get some peace and quiet in prison. It was as he was thinking this that the door to the interrogation room opened and four people entered.
The obvious leader of this group was a square-jawed woman with grey hair and a monocle. She gave the appearance of someone who was not to be crossed and walked into the room with purpose. Following behind her, was a middle-aged, unremarkable man with light brown hair; a tall, broad-shouldered black man with a gold earring; and a young woman with dark eyes and a heart-shaped face.
"Hello Mr. Bryce. My name is Amelia Bones and I'm from the Home Office. Now I would like you to describe everything you heard and witnessed tonight. Please leave nothing, no matter how seemingly irrelevant, out."
Two hours later, Frank startled himself awake. He looked around and realized that he was in his living room and must have fallen asleep in his chair. Frank shook his head and chuckled to himself for the first time in many years. He had been having the weirdest dream. Something about wizards...but even as he was thinking that, his memory of the dream was slipping away.
Frank stretched, stood up, and started walking toward his bedroom. He did not notice that he had left his cane behind. Without a second thought, Frank walked into his bedroom, past his bed, and opened the bedroom closet door. He quickly found the old army footlocker, pulled it out, and placed it on the bed.
Slowly, Frank lifted the lid on the old box. Sitting on top was his father's Military Cross. He took the shadowbox over to his bedside table and carefully put it down. Walking back to the footlocker, Frank looked down at the rest of the contents. He smiled as Emily stared up at him from several pictures. Picking up the top picture, the same one he stared at every night in North Africa, Frank walked back into the living room. Walking over to his old radio, he switched it on. The radio sizzled to life and a slow jazz song filled the cottage.
Frank smiled down at the photo, and a single tear ran down his cheek. Without thinking, he began to sway to the music and shared a final dance with his former love.
A/N
Hey everyone! Was reading through Goblet of Fire again and got this plot idea in my head. It just wouldn't leave so I decided to write a story on it.
This is going to be an AU story starting at the beginning of the Goblet of Fire. Pairings will be Harry/Daphne, Neville/Susan, and Ron/Hermione. Not really married to any of those but Harry/Daphne at the moment. I promise to keep this story as close to book canon as possible (as opposed to the bits I'm changing) but I make no promises on it being accurate to every little piece of information JKR has released over the years. Also, probably will get the standard, "you are making it too easy on them" review. All I will say is that Harry succeeded with a lot less stuff going his way. So yeah, when I change some more things to go his way, it will likely be easier.
This should be a pretty straightforward story that will be between 5-10 chapters. I will try to post an update a week. Currently I don't have a Beta and am self-proofreading. If you want to step up and volunteer to Beta, PM me. I know I could use the help in improving my writing.
