River Flows

Azkaban was a cold and depressing place. The entire prison felt suffocating the moment you stepped on the island, a biting chill rolling through the fortress. Edgar Bones, the Minister of Magic, shuddered as the guards with them neared just slightly. The Aurors with him pushed their Patronuses towards them. They backed away, rising up and around to get away from them.

“How anyone stays remotely sane here will never cease to baffle me,” Frank Longbottom muttered, tightening the grip on his wand as the Dementors neared again. 

“Longbottom makes a good point,” another Auror muttered, “How do we know he’s even still sane enough to give us valid information? I mean, it’s been a decade since he’s seen the sun or had a break from the Dementors. Most prisoners don’t last a couple of weeks, let alone ten years.”

“You remember his father,” Minister Bones retorted, “He was rather paranoid, remember? I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d kept himself sane using Occlumency.”

The conversation stopped short as they reached the doors to the prison. Magic seemed to seep into every bit of the high-security prison, keeping Azkaban utterly inescapable. 

It took a while to reach the room where they’d meet the prisoner. There seemed to be a new defence mechanism following their every step. In many of them, their senses were blocked to keep them from being able to tell anyone what they were or how to get through. Deeper and deeper they went, the biting cold getting worse and worse with every step. 

Finally, the doors to the room opened. The moment they stepped in, a blast of warm air hit them. The group breathed a sigh, shaking their limbs as they warmed up. Everyone got situated, the Aurors stationed by the door and near Minister Bones, who sat across from a table blocked by a powerful shield charm to keep them safe from the prisoner. 

A couple of minutes later, the doors adjacent to their own — but with much higher security — opened and Regulus Black, hands cuffed and face bored, stepped in.

Black was brought in with two Aurors — two that they recognized as having been Dark wizard hunters in the last war — holding him tightly by the upper arms. They forced him down roughly into the metal chair across from Minister Bones, muttering spells under their breath as they spelt the cramped area to be as secure as possible. As this happened, bulky metal cuffs clamped down around Black’s arms and legs to keep him in place. 

For a while, the room was silent as the group took the time to examine the others for the first time in a decade.

Regulus Black had fallen far from the once elegant and intelligent individual he’d been, with a good future going for him and some of the most envied power in the world at his fingertips. Then he’d made the naive mistake of falling for his mother’s pretty words and the foolish, half-blood wizard’s promises of greater power than he could ever imagine. By his sixth year, Black had been fully indoctrinated into the Death Eaters, his loyalty tied to that of a lying, selfish Dark Lord who had no values other than his greed.

It was difficult to associate the person in front of Frank with the bright child he knew in Hogwarts, who stuck to the group and knew the answer to every question asked in Charms and Astronomy, who had every star in the sky memorised, who could pull off the most complex of illusions — a speciality that had made him so elusive and hard to capture.

Without any visitors being allowed in Azkaban and the people who worked here being signed away to confidentiality, no one knew what became of Black until now. His hair was matted and longer than ever, poorly kept and bruised — though they didn’t know why. He was bone thin, so much so that they’d probably be able to count all his ribs through his flesh. There was also a large, ugly scar — a claw mark, perhaps — running across the right side of his forehead and down his left eye, ending at the side of his face. It marred Black’s once aristocratic features into something more intimidating and monstrous. 

From the little they’d gotten from the report, Black had a permanent limp in his right leg — an injury received from the duel between him, the Death Eaters he’d been on the run with at the time, the Aurors, and the Order members. There were probably other scars but they never did a full examination on him. There’d never been the resources available to do so.

The silence between them was tense, expectant. The shield sparkled transparently between them. Black’s eyes strayed from them every couple of seconds to stare at it then quickly look away; perhaps just remembering people were watching his every move.

Frank wondered when he’d last seen magic that wasn’t the dark and cold chill of the Dementors, attempting to tear his soul from his bony body every few days. 

“Well,” Black rasped, his voice barely a whisper from lack of use, “How may I be of service, Minister?” The words were taunting, arrogant. Even in Azkaban, Black still managed to keep up that stupid, irritating mask of utter disdain. He tilted his head to the side, raising a brow at them. Black’s lips were chapped, and he looked as if he were struggling not to wince every time he swallowed.

Despite all this, Black’s eyes were sharp and alert, taking in every twitch, every movement. 

“Rumours are circulating, Mr Black, that indicates Riddle is aiming to rise once more,” Minister Bones stated, getting straight to the point of their visit. 

Black showed no signs of reaction, merely cocking his head to the side. “And?” he asked. 

His mouth was tilted in a barely noticeable frown, a crease forming between his brows. Frank pursed his lips, hiding a smirk. Black may’ve been good at keeping up a mask but after a decade without decent human interaction, he wasn’t very good at keeping his emotions under control. It wasn’t very obvious, but they were displayed all on his face, in his hands, the new stiffness in his shoulders.

In other words, Black knew something. 

“We’re here to bargain,” Minister Bones said, leaning back in his metal chair. Black raised a brow, fingers twitching. “In exchange for information on anything and everything you know on Riddle, we’ll shorten your sentence.”

The room was silent. Black stared intently at the Minister, all arrogance gone from his weathered face. “How much?” he asked, all pretences gone.

“That depends,” Minister Bones answered. There was a gentle smile on his face, eyes crinkling in the corners. As far as Frank knew, it was all fake, just there to get Black to relax so they could pull more information from him but then again, he wasn’t all that sure. Edgar had always been a bleeding heart, and back when the Order was first created, Frank knew he’d been very distraught and angry over teens and young adults being indoctrinated into Riddle’s cause. “You’d be moved to the Ambers’ Correctional Facility and, depending on your progress, you could be released within the next year.”

Black’s head snapped up, lips parting in shock. He made to say something, but Minister Bones interrupted first, taking advantage of the moment of vulnerability. “You have no blood on your hands — not directly, anyway. In fact, if witnesses serve correctly, you saved your brother from an attack by Greyback during the summer of ‘79,” Minister Bones explained. 

Despite that, Black didn’t look convinced. Those two factors were the only things that had kept him from a life sentence back when he’d first been captured. They served no help to him now. “And? What else?” he asked sceptically. 

Minister Bones didn’t respond, choosing to give Black a contemplative stare. Frank tensed his hands, keeping his face blank. This was the part that would make or break it with Black. 

“If you agree to give us information on Riddle, we’ll be able to use that in court as reason enough to send you to the correctional facility, on the basis that you’ve grown from your mistakes in your youth,” Minister Bones reiterated, smoothly ignoring Black’s derisive scoff. “But… not many members of the Wizengamot will be all that keen on freeing the notorious Illusionist, Mr Black.”

Black rolled his eyes. “I’ve realised that, Minister. So what will be the other requirements for my sentence to be shortened?”

“For one, visible progress in the correctional facility. They’ll most likely want you to see a Mind Healer as well,” Minister Bones answered. “And… we have talked this over with many members and they see it fit that you be… helped by trusted allies of the Ministry—” 

“I’m not joining the Order,” Black intoned harshly. Frank resisted the urge to cringe. He remembered the days during the war when Black had first started climbing up the ranks of Death Eaters faster than it's ever been shown to happen. He’d been labelled the ‘Illusionist’ by the news outlets and the public because of how difficult he was to track.

During his trial and investigation, it’d been found that he’d been on more Death Eater missions than that of even Bellatrix Lestrange or Lucius Malfoy. His job had always been to protect the other Death Eaters and make it easy for them to escape. Other times, it was a distraction. Because of this, he was seen as a key factor in Riddle’s plans and the protection of his followers so the Order had reached out to him numerous times in the hopes of turning him to their side. 

Needless to say, that topic was a bit of a sore spot for everyone.

With a sigh, Minister Bones sat back in his metal chair and rubbed at his temples. “I’m afraid this is the only option. You can give us the information and we’ll move you to a more comfortable facility, but the Wizengamot won’t budge on this,” he stressed, leaning forward. “Your sentence will not be shortened unless you’re under the jurisdiction of either a department in the Ministry or the Order, a close ally and official team working with them.”

Indecision crossed over Black’s face, his feelings practically spelt out on his face. Black looked away from them, fidgeting as much as he could in his chair. His former confidence in not joining the Order seemed to have melted away. Now, Black just seemed tired. “I’ll give you what I know,” he agreed, voice dragging. Minister Bones slumped in relief, giving Black a kind smile. “But… I’m not joining the Order. Not- not now. I’ll think about it,” he conceded. 

Undeterred, Minister Bones smiled once more. He stood from his chair, giving Black a nod. “Excellent,” he told him. “You’ll be moved immediately, Mr Black. We’ll visit for another meeting in about a week; once you’re a bit more settled in.”

Black nodded, looking a bit dazed as the metal cuffs unlocked and the guards pulled him to his feet. The guards dragged him away before they left. Black glanced behind his shoulder quickly, making eye contact with Frank for the first time since he’d arrived. Frank nodded an acknowledgement, turning to help take the Minister out of the room.

The two separate groups filed out of the room; Black to go and prepare for the transfer and the Minister to prepare for a few announcements. 

Warrior born from the rivers damned, a voice, taunting and high, hissed through his mind. Lances of pain shot down his scar. The soft hum of Lady Magic’s voice felt like a balm, shudders wracking his body as the seething pain got worse and worse. A pressure built on his chest as if heavyweights were keeping him down as he struggled to take in a gulp of air. White, hot panic raced through his mind, and Harry opened his mouth to shout—

Hands were gripping his shoulders, shaking them harshly. Harry jolted awake, staring shocked at the grey eyes of the one and only, Cedric Diggory.

Harry blanched, scrambling away from him as panic rose in his chest. His memories seemed to be flying through his mind as he tried to get a grasp on the situation. 

Cedric must’ve taken one look at the horror on Harry’s face and back away, putting his hands up as if to surrender. 

“I- I’m sorry,” Cedric said quickly, his friends getting up from their seats to come closer. Harry’s gaze skittered from them to the door and, without another moment’s hesitation, he leapt from his corner and scrambled out the compartment as surprised shouts sounded from behind him.

Heart pounding against his rib cage, Harry tried to get a clear view of what was going on. A hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped back, staring wide-eyed at Cedric, who’d followed him out the compartment.

“Are you alright?” He asked, brows knitted in concern. Cedric took a careful step forward. Harry took a step back. Then another. Then another until he turned, leaving Cedric behind him and tearing open the door to another compartment. 

He shut the door behind him, slumping down on the seat to catch his breath when a voice said from right next to him, “You don’t look so good.”

Harry jumped, spinning to look right at a pair of hazel eyes staring down at him with a frown. The stranger had dark red hair that reached his nape and he was draped in the Hogwarts robes. He was probably a first or second year if Harry’s estimates were correct.

“I- uhm…” Harry stutters, eyes tracing across the room to see the other boys staring at him. Two of which he recognized: Neville Longbottom and Ron Weasley.

“Do you want some water?” asked the other boy in the compartment, one with black hair and light brown eyes. He looked familiar, with a similar furrow to his brows and the way his lips tilted into a frown in concern. 

Harry gulped, forcing himself to calm down, and replied, “No, I’m okay but thanks.” He glanced out the compartment window, ducking slightly and sliding hesitantly into the seat, back against the wall. 

“Are you hiding from someone?” The boy with red hair asked curiously, peeking his head through the window. Harry made a quick decision and nodded, sliding down lower when someone passed by the window. 

The compartment was silent for a moment. Then muffled voices came from a little away from their compartment before pausing and walking away. The click of a door closing was the last thing before Harry glanced up and through the window, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Gone?” Ron whispered, lifting his head slightly to look up. Harry nodded, smiling at him as he quickly ran through everything that he remembered.

Would you rather have peace, Harry Potter? Or your family and your friends? In the way of the universe, you can’t have both. Not right now.

Harry smiled sheepishly at the four boys in front of him. He sat up straighter and said, “Sorry about that. I can leave if you’d like.”

There’s another universe where Tom Riddle had something to prove when his true identity was revealed to the public just as he started to gain head in England.

“That’s alright,” Neville replied kindly, “You can stay if you’d like. We bought tons of candy. See?” He looked to the side of him, cupped a handful of candy, and offered it right in front of him. Feeling a little lighter, Harry grinned and plucked a chocolate frog from the pile. 

He hadn’t been able to gain as large of a following as he did in your universe so he didn’t cause as much damage. Despite this, his plans were still only put to a stop in 1981 by Neville Longbottom surviving the Killing Curse and the Order members’ quick thinking. They only barely managed to capture him.

“Thanks,” Harry said, opening the package and catching the frog just before it jumped out of the box. He took a bite, humming. He settled a bit more comfortably in his seat.

The boy is revered more as a miracle than a hero though. Most considered Voldemort a pest instead of a threat.

Neville gave Harry a shy grin and said, “I’m Neville. Neville Longbottom.”

A team within the Order, known as the Marauders, who’d no faces or names to put to their identities, took down the rest of his followers with the help of the Order.

Harry turned away, promising himself to look more into it later on and wiped a hand on his robes — the Hogwarts robes that he assumed had been put on during whatever happened that caused his travel. Then, he replied, “I’m Harry- uh Jame… son.”

So they’re all alive? Every single one of them?

One of the other boys, the one with black hair, snorted and said, “Jameson? As in, James’ son?”

Every single one.

Harry grinned and said, “Something like that.”

“Well, Harry Jameson,” the boy with red hair said with a wave, “I’m Henry Potter, James’ son.”

Ron and the other boy snickered. Harry forced a grin on his face, taking a moment to take in the features of his maybe-counterpart. Ironically enough, he had all the features Harry didn’t. James’ eyes, Lily’s hair, her complexion, her more delicate facial structure. 

“I’m Ron Weasley,” said Ron from across from him, popping a jelly bean in his mouth. His face lit up and he exclaimed, “Strawberry!” 

“Really?” asked Neville, peering over. “Let me try one,” he said, taking a jelly bean from Ron’s package and plopping it into his mouth. Neville screwed up his face, gagging as he muttered, “I got celery.”

“I’m Darius Black,” said the last boy, sticking out his hand as Neville and Ron continued their conversation about what Harry assumed was the spell Ron had tried showing him in his timeline. Harry shook his hand, nodding at him with a grin. “You’re a Muggleborn, right? Or a half-blood? I don’t recognize your last name,” Darius told Harry, plopping down next to him. “I don’t know much about the Muggle world. Henry’s mum has taken her to see a couple of places on occasion, but she doesn’t go back often. What’s it like?” 

Harry blinked, taking on the onslaught of chatter. Harry replied, “I’m a half-blood.” Might as well keep things as honest as possible, lest he ends up saying something that contradicts his story. “And the Muggle world’s pretty different from here. Not as interesting though,” he answered, glancing over at Neville, Ron, and Henry. Neville and Ron were still talking eagerly about trying to turn Ron’s… ball of fur — was that a bunny? — yellow but Henry… Henry was staring at Harry. The moment he noticed Harry looking back, he averted his eyes and focused on the conversation Ron and Neville were having.

Turning back to Darius, he let the other boy do most of the talking and tried to ignore the pit of unease in his gut. Harry knew he’d looked a lot like his father, especially when he was younger, but had hoped that Henry wouldn’t recognize the face of his father’s younger self in Harry. He didn’t think Henry had but he might’ve taken notice of some similarities. 

“Harry?” Darius said, waving a hand in front of his face. Harry blinked, refocusing on him and giving him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” Harry said with a cringe. “What were you saying?”

“I was asking who your wizard parent is,” Darius replied eagerly, gaining the curiosity of the other three boys in the compartment. “You look a bit familiar.”

Thinking fast, Harry blurted out, “My parents died… when- um… when I was young. A baby, I meant. When I was a baby.” An awkward silence took over the compartment. Harry gulped, trying to keep his emotions off his face. 

Darius blinked, his eyes widening with guilt. He stuttered, “Oh… uh- I didn’t realise—”

“It’s fine,” Harry blurted out, just wanting them to stop staring at him like that. “It’s fine, really. It- it was a long time ago so I’m pretty much over it.” Harry averted his eyes, tugging on a lock of his hair.

The silence between the five boys only seemed to stretch on, none quite knowing what to say to that. Just as it seemed to become unbearable, the door to their compartment opened. Harry’s heart sped up as he glanced at the open door, praying it wasn’t Cedric Diggory—

And came face to face with Hermione Granger. Of course. 

“Has anyone seen Nina’s toad? She’s lost hers,” Hermione said in a bossy voice, nose high in the air. Harry shook his head, muttering a silent ‘no’ when Hermione turned to Ron, her eyebrows raised. “Oh, are you casting a spell? Let’s see it, then,” she told him. 

Ron glanced at his friends before turning back to her and clearing his throat awkwardly. Just as Ron opened his mouth to say the spell, Henry leaned over and whispered something quickly in his ear. Hermione frowned, tapping her foot impatiently as Neville leaned over too, whispering something in response.

There was a wail outside, followed by the doors of a nearby compartment opening. 

“I’ll help you find your toad, Nina,” Cedric’s muffled voice sounded from the hallway. Sniffles and muffled voices followed it, but Harry wasn’t thinking about that. 

He shot Darius a panicked look and, from the look on his face, he must’ve guessed what Harry was trying to tell him. He turned and nudged Ron’s foot harshly. Ron jumped, snapping his head up, and made eye contact with Hermione, who pursed her lips. 

Harry cringed, making eye contact with Darius. The other boy shrugged. 

“Uh…” Ron stuttered, “ Mutatio flova- flavu… what?” He waved his wand clumsily. Henry facepalmed, hissing when Darius kicked his shin.

“Well,” Hermione sniffed, raising her nose higher. “That’s not a very good spell, is it? I’ve learned a couple of spells too but they all worked for me. Nobody in my family’s magic though so it was quite a surprise when we found out I was. A good surprise, of course. I’ve memorised all the course books already. By the way, I’m Hermione Granger,” she said very fast.

A pain struck him deep in his chest. Something tight and agonizing spread through his lungs, piercing his every inhale and exhale as memories bombarded him of a simpler time.

Harry smiled and replied softly, “I’m Harry Jameson.” Her eyes skittered to him, the bright judgement on her face seeming to lighten a bit. Hermione nodded at him before turning to the other boys expectedly.

Darius was frowning at her, unimpressed with her attitude. Despite that, he waved and answered, “I’m Darius. Darius Black.”

“Ron Weasley,” Ron muttered. He gave Hermione a side-eye, turning to talk to Darius.

“I’m Henry Potter,” Henry said friendly. 

“Neville Longbottom,” Neville greeted quietly. Ron’s bunny had gone to him and Neville glanced down, petting the bunny lightly. 

“Really?” said Hermione. “That’s interesting. I’ve read much about you in The Dark Arts of the Twentieth Century .”

“That’s cool,” said Neville awkwardly. He glanced at the other boys with wide, pleading eyes. Harry felt a stab of sympathy for him. Even so, he was rather relieved it wasn’t him.

“Found him!” came a voice, slightly clearer now that the door was open, from the hall. Harry gave Darius a wide-eyed look as if there was actually anything the other boy could do. Darius shrugged helplessly, cringing when Hermione turned to see Cedric and who Harry assumed was Nina with a toad in her hand.

Nina’s face was blotched with red spots from crying but there was a happy grin on her face as she clutched her toad to her chest. 

“Hermione, was it?” Cedric asked with an easy smile. He patted Nina’s shoulder, said something to her quietly, and pointed to another compartment near their own, where a couple of other kids were sitting. Nina nodded, hurrying to the door and slipping inside with nothing more than a quick wave to them. “No need to worry about Trevor — that’s Nina’s toad’s name. He was in another compartment. Cho found him though so all’s well,” he explained, nudging her shoulder.

He glanced inside their compartment and — much to Harry’s dismay — did a double-take when his eyes landed on Harry, however relieved he seemed. 

“There you are!” exclaimed Cedric, another smile blooming on his face. “Sorry if I scared you when you woke up, Harry—” He did not recall telling Cedric his name though he assumed it must’ve been some memory implanted by Lady Magic. “—but you were thrashing around quite a lot. Thought you were having a night terror or something. You’re alright now though, yeah?” Cedric said, tilting his head to the slight. Dazed, Harry nodded silently and gave Cedric an awkward smile. He didn’t particularly feel like talking much. Certainly not to Cedric Diggory of all people, not after everything Harry had been through with his counterpart. 

When it seemed like Cedric was waiting for a verbal answer, Harry stuttered out a quick, “I- I’m fine.”

Cedric nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “Good,” he concluded, patting Hermione on the shoulder. “I’ll be in the compartment a couple of doors down if any of you need me — though you could also ask the prefects or the Head Boy or Girl if you need anything as well.” With that, Cedric waved at them and walked off to find his friends. 

“Well,” Hermione said loudly, “It was nice to meet you all. I’d better go. You should all get changed. We’ll be at Hogwarts soon enough.” She left without another word, closing the door quietly behind her.

“Whatever House I’m in,” Ron announced, making Harry jump and snap his head over to the scowling boy. “I hope she’s not in it.”

Darius seemed inclined to agree. Henry, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care very much, going back to the book in his lap. 

“She didn’t seem that bad,” Neville pointed out, “Just a bit… uptight.” Darius scoffed.

“Understatement,” he muttered. 

“What House do you guys want to be in?” Henry asked abruptly, erasing all traces of Hermione from the conversation. He seemed nervous now, lips thinned and shoulders taut. Harry frowned at the observation.

“Gryffindor,” Ron answered, though he didn’t seem very happy about the answer. “My entire family’s been in Gryffindor. Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff wouldn’t be too bad, I suppose. Newt Scamander was in Hufflepuff — Charlie’s a big fan of his — and Neville, your mum was in Ravenclaw, right?”

Neville grinned and nodded. “Yeah! I wouldn’t mind being in Ravenclaw! Though I kind of want to be in Hufflepuff. They’ve had some of the best Herbologists,” he rambled. 

“What if one of us were sorted into Slytherin?” asked Henry uncertainly. His voice seemed to grow wobbly, fearful almost. 

Harry cringed, remembering his own opinions against Slytherin when he was younger. The House probably still had a terrible track record in this time too.

“What if we’re separated and don’t end up talking to each other ever again?” Ron asked. Harry almost snorted. They sure were dramatic. 

“Just because you’ll be in different Houses doesn’t mean you can’t talk to each other,” Harry reasoned with them, “You can still sit with each other at meals and hang out outside of dorms.” 

“Yeah,” Darius replied, growing more confident. “It’s not that bad. Besides, we’ll still spend weekends together.” 

This seemed to lighten the boys’ moods and they trailed off, chattering about all kinds of different topics. Harry chimed in here and there but other than that, he mostly stayed quiet and listened to them talk. Henry didn’t add in much, preferring to read whatever book he had his nose buried in. Darius poked fun at him sometimes, sniggering with Ron and Neville. Henry didn’t seem to care, giving little quips of his own with a small, mischievous smirk whenever the other boys grew indignant from his replies.

The five boys continued to talk until a voice echoed throughout the train: “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes. Please leave your luggage on the train to be taken to the school separately.”

Harry’s stomach tightened and he gulped, sharing an anticipating glance with the other boys. With one more sigh, Harry forced his nerves to calm down as he neared the school that was nothing but ruins in his own world. 

“Has he agreed?” Sirius trailed Frank, catching up to him quickly with long strides. He nudged the other Auror incessantly, impatiently tapping his knuckles as he waited for the answer. 

Slowly, Frank nodded and rubbed a hand down his face wearily. Sirius frowned, his bout of anticipation stamping down at the look on his friend’s face.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked worriedly, stopping the other by grappling his forearm.

“Much of the public’s not going to react well to this news, Sirius,” Frank muttered, “You know how dangerous your brother was considered to be during the battles. The bounty for his capture was one of the largest the Ministry’s put out in decades and he still wasn’t captured! People aren’t going to react well to finding out we’re putting him in a centre where the security is far less than it was in Azkaban. They’ll worry he’ll escape.”

“What makes you think he’ll want to?” said a voice from behind the pair. Frank jumped, spinning around to glare irately at Remus Lupin. Remus ignored him, giving Sirius a pointed look. “I mean, you remember how his capture went. It was practically a surrender. He’d been given multiple offers before that to come willingly in exchange for easier, shorter sentences in less extreme prisons and work inside the Ministry numerous times. For all we know, he doesn’t want to return to society anymore and would rather spend the rest of his days there.”

Sirius frowned slightly, a crease forming between his brows. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, clenching his jaw tightly. Frank hurried to argue against the point, hoping to bring some sort of optimism towards the situation.

“He didn’t seem that way when we went to visit him,” Frank said, “From what I noticed, it seemed like he wanted to be released.”

“We won’t know for a while,” Edgar Bones interrupted, striding towards the other men. “Until then, there’s no point worrying about it. For now, let’s focus on figuring out how we’re going to do damage control when the public eventually starts lashing out.”