Constance was shown into the mansion by a house elf and led into Garrow's bookcase-lined study. A fire was crackling merrily under the mantle. Constance scowled at it and rubbed her eyes. After leaving St. Mungo's last night she'd gone back to the office and tried to file her report. It seemed like an open-and-shut case, with a statement from Garrow and a confession from Ivy...but Constance felt wrong about it.

That morning she'd owled Garrow and requested an audience; he'd replied quicker than she expected and not more than an hour later she'd Apparated to his home in the countryside. Her plan was to ask to speak to Kendra, the child. Garrow had found Ivy in Kendra's room; Constance assumed the child had been there, sleeping, and if she'd woken up and seen something the Auror wanted to know what it was. The child was four or five, which was more than old enough to see and tell.

Of course, there was the question of the word. Constance was hoping that talking to the child would help her remember.

She heard the sound of limping footsteps and turned around. Garrow smiled at her through his bruises. There was a small cut on his lip.

"Good morning, Miss Fallon," he said. "How are you?"

"I'm well, thanks," she said as politely as possible. "Are ye holdin' up well?"

"Well enough," he replied, walking towards an armchair. "I've suffered worse before."

"In Ireland?" Constance asked. Garrow paused and looked at her, strangely.

"Ireland?" he repeated.

"Aye. Ye were there durin' the Blood Revolution," she said. He chuckled and lowered himself into the chair.

"Yes. I was working for the Department of International Cooperation at the time, working in Ireland. I was settled there; I took an Irish wife, a beautiful Irish wife." He paused and looked up at her, a strange light in his eyes. "She had lovely dark hair...like yours."

"Why didn't ye leave?" Constance asked, resisting the urge to pull her loose hair back into a ponytail.

"I wanted to, when the trouble started. But she refused; she loved her country so, her family was there. She was killed during a raid on our home," he continued. "We were suspected of funding the Free Blood Organization. Some of the Irish purists believed the revolt was instigated by the British to weaken Ireland. But is Ireland what you came to ask about? Won't you sit down?" he asked, gesturing to a chair next to him.

"No, thank ye," Constance said. "I actually wanted to speak to yer daughter, if I could, sir."

Garrow narrowed his eyes. Constance held his gaze. His clear blue eyes were unnerving.

"Why?" he asked, his voice almost imperceptively harder.

"Was she in the room when ye found Iv--the intruder?" Constance asked. Slowly, Garrow nodded. "Well, then. I just want to know what she saw."

"She's just a child," he said.

"Still. Ye can never have too many corroborating statements," Constance said. Garrow sat still, watching her carefully.

"I'm afraid she's sleeping right now," he said. As he spoke, a piercing wail echoed through the house. It was mostly just meaningless syllables, but a few words came through: not in English, but in a Gaelic tongue. Constance only spoke a little Scottish Gaelic, and anyway, it was different...Irish. Still, it was close enough that Constance could figure out what the child was saying. It was the word.

Máthair.

"You hear? She's very ill, very stressed," Garrow said, standing. "I'm afraid it'll be impossible for you to speak with her right now. I'll owl you when she's well enough."

"Of course, Junior Undersecretary," Constance said, smiling. "Thank ye for yer time."