Bryant’s friends greeted him with smiles and hugs. He didn’t know a single one of their names.
Truthfully, they weren’t his friends as much as they were Mac’s friends. Macbeth Tannen was Bryant’s cousin who had been spent most of his life distancing himself from the weird, long-nosed kid who lived in their house. But after Bryant’s accident, Mac saw an opportunity to make some money and some notoriety as an up-and-coming lawyer. Since successfully suing the Knight Bus Corporation, Mac had dragged his little cousin to half-a-dozen parties, raves, and shindigs for, what Mac called, “networking.”
In a past life, Bryant would have relished in the opportunity to be surrounded by half sober girls bumping up against him as they danced. But the events were exhausting, and Bryant was beginning to suspect his cousin’s motives. Bryant had confided in him once during a legal consultation that he wanted to put his Knight Bus winnings to good use. He wanted to start a charity, maybe change the way people said his name: Bryant Tannen. Mac promised that these networking events would introduce him to the right kinds of people. “A better class of people,” Mac had said.
When Bryant arrived at the club, Mac was the first to greet him. He rushed over to Bryant from his seat in the roped off VIP section and flung his arm around Bryant’s shoulder, forcing a plastic cup into his hand. “Hey little cuz, drink this.”
“What is it?” Bryant asked.
Mac laughed and then said, less friendly this time, “Drink it.”
So Bryant drank. And when he joined the group in the VIP section, he had another. And another. And soon everything was beginning to blur. Mac’s friends were some of the most attractive people Bryant had ever seen. They could have all all easily been Slytherins. They also asked for a lot more than they gave. Bryant thought the whole idea of networking was to secure investors for his own business, but Mac assured him that a favor for them would become a favor for him later. Bryant felt like the Godfather on the day of his daughter’s wedding. Their reasons were different, but they all wanted the same thing. One of Mac’s friends needed a little extra scratch to record an EP. Another was looking for investors in a feature film. Another, one that Bryant found especially hard to turn down, was a gorgeous blonde looking for a little help getting her modeling career off the ground.
She batted her eyelashes and said, “So Mac tells me you like, know the Declassified girl.”
Bryant shook his head for a moment, trying to make sense of this question in his head. “You mean like, James Bond?”
The girl laughed and said, “No, silly. Abigail Chandler?”
Bryant laughed. “No. I mean, I did but…no. No, no.”
“So you can’t like, introduce her to me?”
“Let me ask you,” Bryant pointed at her dramatically. “Were you a Slytherin?”
“Could you tell?” she smiled bashfully.
Bryant laughed again, then took a drink from his glass. “I don’t think she wants to meet you. But I’ll see what I can do.”
It had been eight years since Bryant had last seen his best friend and just the mention of her name made him want to down the rest of the bottle of whatever they were drinking.
As he poured himself another glass he asked his new model friend, “This may be a little forward but…would you maybe want to make out or something?”
The girl cocked her head to the side like she was admiring an adorable puppy then said, “That’s really sweet. Maybe next time.”
“Fair enough,” Bryant nodded, then held up his glass. “To next times, and all the times that never were.” Whatever that meant.
By the time Bryant stumbled back to Kings Cross he was alone, drunk, and much lighter on Galleons. Deep down, Bryant knew that Mac was stealing from him. That he was only arranging these events to finance all of his friends’ little side projects. Maybe Mac even had a stake in that EP or that movie. But Bryant had never really felt wealthy. And though none of Mac’s friends really cared to be around Bryant, the fact that they pretended to meant something to him. What difference did it make to him if they were there for his money or not? He would give it all away if it felt like he had friends.
Bryant collapsed in his seat on the midnight train to Hogsmeade. As one of the less traveled lines, he could usually find a quiet, cozy seat alone near the back of the train where he’d sleep off the rest of the booze before returning to Hogwarts in the morning to teach his class. It was a life that was slowly killing Bryant, but he couldn’t tell Mac no. Not after everything his cousin had done for him.
Bryant rested his head on the window glass and stared out at the empty platform. Soon the train would take off and the sights of rural Britain speeding past would lull him to sleep. His mind began to drift, first to the pretty young Slytherin alum at the club, and then, inevitably, to Abbey Chandler.
Of all the people Bryant owed the most to, it was Abbey. He’d considered looking her up from time to time. It wasn’t too hard to contact someone in the magical world. But even Bryant wasn’t too dumb to recognize that reaching out to Abbey would only hurt her. As painful as it was for him to admit, she truly was happier without him in her life.