who: @epimetheusb
where: the hog’s head.
when: april 18th, 1983.
Edgar didn’t know why he’d came.
Of course, he was the one who sent the owl. He was the one who knew that they needed to talk, given the situation. The Order was not going to work if they were all at odds with one another. Edgar had to learn how to put what had happened with Pim and Amelia behind him. Still, it didn’t help seeing him. It didn’t help that when Pim arrived, Edgar’s instinct was to yell at the other man. He cleared his throat and pushed it away. He was mending bridges, not burning them, after all.
“You look good, mate,” he said, with a short nod. As he waited for Pim to settle in, he noted the wheelchair and then met his sister’s ex-husband’s eyes. It was strange, how a man could be family and then not, so quickly. “I’d heard about the accident I just didn’t know… I mean. How are you doing?”
It was funny, really, the way they avoided each other. Pim didn’t even have anything against Edgar. He had no reason not to get along with him and his break up with Amelia had been both mutual and amicable. Three years had passed since then; three years in which Edgar and Pim had essentially been working alongside each other in the Order and Pim, for his part, had been keeping such a fact secret from Amelia. He didn’t know if Edgar was doing the same. Because, for some reason, they had spent those years carefully avoiding each other, something which had been much easier when Pim’s involvement had been limited due to the Hit Office being more than a full-time job for him.
For three months, now, however, it was the Order that had become his full-time job, as his leave from the Ministry stretched on indefinitely. So, it was less of a shock than it might have been when he received Edgar’s owl, in light of the way he had recently been bugging Moody for more work with the Order.
Magic was getting easier again. He almost felt like he was once more ten years old and practising to control magic with his dad. He had spent a lot of time in the past couple of months with Simeon doing just that, after all. It still wasn’t perfect but a simple spell like one to move a chair out of the way to enable him to go right up to the table Edgar was seated at in his wheelchair was achievable. “Getting there,” he agreed but he nodded in understanding at the unfinished comment. Even though he had been to Order meetings since leaving hospital, he knew most people, himself included, had figured the chair would be a temporary thing, a month or two at most. Now he was on his second one, this more personalised and upgraded compared to the standard St Mungo’s issued one. It was something he was still learning to accept. “Every day’s easier,” he said, honestly, “even if I wish I could go back to work already but there’s still some things to figure out before I can have another go at trying to persuade Amelia to let it happen. How about you?” It sounded simply like a polite return of the question, given Edgar was physically in a better way than Pim was but the fact of the matter was he hadn’t asked that question enough times in the past few years.
