Chapter 415 - A.P.D. Ⅱ

By the end of their patrol, Timothy is exhausted, sore, and almost ready to quit. However, he couldn't do so. He needed the job.

Seeing the exhaustion on the younger man's face, Smythe says, "Luckily this is our last patrol. There's a total of four families living in the village of Fernburgh, and one of them is a widow, Juliet D'Eath, and her son. We've been asked to especially make sure everything is alright with her since she lives the farthest away from the village."

The two of men make their day down the street and introduce themselves to three of the families living close to each other. The families happily greet them pleased that there would be someone from the Ministry, who they'd be able to contact in case of trouble. But more importantly, someone who'd patrol their living area to ensure they were safe from harm. It made the wizarding families feel a great deal safer knowing so.

Timothy and Smythe waved goodbye to the three families, before making their way down the road to farmhouse nearly half a mile away. The home of the widow, D'Eath was fairly easy to spot as it was the only home around.

The farmhouse wasn't large, but it had a barn, which housed two cows, and a few cats. There was also a chicken coop, but the wired chicken enclosure kept the cats out. Beyond the barn lies a small fruit orchard and a rather large garden plot full of all sorts of vegetables.

On the side of the house runs two clothes lines. The women had her back to them as she carefully unpinned dried linens from the clotheslines. This close to muggles she probably physical hung them and removed them, before folding them magically inside.

"Mrs. D'Eath?" Smythe carefully called out as the witch started and dropped the linen into the basket in front of her.

The middle-aged witch had dark ringlets pinned up and kept out of her face. The witch had a heart shaped face, bright eyes, and pale skin. She must have been a real heartstopper in youth as she was still rather beautiful, despite the hard lines of expression on her face. Although her expression was cold and hard as she suspiciously says, "And who are the two of you?"

"We're from the A.P.D." Timothy explained. "We're the two patrolmen assigned to check in with this neighborhood each day. We just wanted to let you know."

"Good, now get off my property," Mrs. D'Eath snapped.

Timothy blinks in surprise as this was the first time, they'd been treated so coldly. "Er, of course, Ma'am," Timothy said moving to take a step back.

"And your son, Ma'am is he well?" Smythe asked refusing to budge until ensuring the child was fine. He'd seen often enough physical or verbal abuse of parents against their werewolf children. And knew that though most wizarding folks refused to admit it too often happened in the wizarding world as well.

"He's fine," Mrs. D'Eath growled. "Now leave or I will report you!"

Timothy glanced at his partner to only see the normally gentle natured wizard refusing to back down. Timothy sighs and says, "We want to ensure the safety of every individual in the family, Ma'am. We just need a peek at him, that's all."

Mrs. D'Eath hands clench in her skirts to hide her nerves, before turning to the house. "Lorcan, please come out here," Mrs. D'Eath called out.

"Do you need my help mum?" A child's voice called out from inside in answer, before the door opened.

Roughly a ten-year-old boy emerged wearing muggle jeans that were evidently streaked with grass stains from playing. The pale-haired boy had sleek dark hair and almost dark purple lips. Though when the boy raised his dark soulless gaze towards them, Timothy's hackles rose as he unconsciously snarled and took a step forward.

Lorcan froze in fear as Smythe suddenly pulled his partner back by the collar. "Timothy!" Smythe cried out.

Timothy suddenly snapped out of his trance at realizing, what he had just done. A crimson flush makes its way down his cheeks to his neck as he bows in a sincere apology. "I am so sorry, Ma'am. I don't know what came over me."

"It's fine," Mrs. D'Eath said, however, her voice quivered slightly betraying her fears.

Mrs. D'Eath turned to her son and says, "It's fine, Lorcan, go on inside now."

Lorcan eyes dart from his mother back to the former werewolf, before creeping to his mother, and taking her hand. He didn't wish to abandon his mother to face the werewolf. And even if the werewolf really wasn't one now. The man still had werewolf instincts.

Mrs. D'Eath's hard face softens as she runs her hand gently across the silky-smooth locks of her son's hair. "Go on, Lorcan, and take these clothes inside," Mrs. D'Eath said. "I want them neatly folded, now get!"

Lorcan looks at his mum with worry, but a stern glare from her has him grabbing the clothes basket and trotting on inside to do as he was told. It was difficult habit to break. And especially, when it came to being obedient to one's parents.

Once the door shut behind her son, Mrs. D'Eath pulled herself up to her full height, despite being much shorter than the two men, and marched over to them. "Listen here, busters, I don't care who you are, and I don't care if you're no longer mangy werewolves. But I will not have my son being afraid of wolves, you hear! If this happens again, I'll won't be reporting you to your department superiors, but straight to the Auror office!"

"Yes, Ma'am," both men said.

"Now that we understand, each other, go," Mrs. D'Eath huffed.

However, Smythe wasn't one to be pushed around. "He's only half-vampire, is he not?" Smythe pointedly asked.

"I don't see how this is any of your business," Mrs. D'Eath crossly said as she folded her arms over her chest."

"It isn't Ma'am," Smythe confessed. "However, since we will be the regular officers patrolling this area, I'd rather we be prepared should a similar situation arise in the future to better protect your son."

Mrs. D'Eath purses her lips in dislike, before sighing and looking away into the distant. "His father was a vampire by the name of Lazarus D'Eath," Mrs. D'Eath explained. "I'd never much liked vampires, but he had been born a muggle before being turned. He was well-read, soft-spoken, and a good man."

Mrs. D'Eath unconsciously rubs the wedding ring with her thumb that she still wears on her right hand. "We fell in love, but vampires aren't supposed to marry witches, so we eloped. We were happy for a bit, but then they came for my husband, and took him away. I never saw him again."

"And your son?" Smythe further questioned.

"I didn't think, it was possible," Mrs. D'Eath confessed. "It is very difficult for a witch and a vampire to create a child. I don't know how I did not notice, but I was already pregnant when they came and took him away. I didn't truly realize until I felt began to feel sick and was craving to eat blood rare meat all the time. But there I was all alone and with a babe on the way."

Mrs. D'Eath turned to look at them in the eye. "But I love my son, half-vampire or not, he's mine. And if luck should have it, he's got my side of magic too. We won't truly know until the summer when the Hogwarts letters start to go out."

Smythe nods his head and says, "Well, if it all works out, he will."

Mrs. D'Eath sniffs and says, "I don't trust in fate or luck. Now scat."

"Yes, Ma'am," Smythe obediently said, before leading his partner away.

Once the two men were out of earshot, Timothy heads hangs down in shame as he says, "I'm sorry, Smythe. I don't know what came over me, but I just growled."

"I know," Smythe said. "But that is just a boy, and now you've possibly scarred him for life. He'll begin to fear the rest of us that were once werewolves. You saw him, he didn't react until you growled at him."

Timothy's head ducks even lower as Smythe adds, 'Though I must admit, I never really thought all about the hate between vampires and werewolves might affect a child like that."

"Yes, sir," Timothy woefully said.

Smythe turns an eye towards Timothy and pats him on the back. "But don't worry, kid. I'll make sure it all works out in the end." Timothy doesn't reply, before being side-apparated away and back to the Ministry. They still had filing to do, their work was far from being done.