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Feeling Ill
Author: Furnella Hodfuffer
Date: 02-28-12 21:02
A combination of migraine and upset stomach had me coming home from the restaurant far earlier than usual for a night that was my turn to run the front of the restaurant. Instead of curling up in bed with a pot of tea and some digestive biscuits to settle my stomach, I'm curled up on the couch with a pot of tea and digestive biscuits. The headache is bad enough that my current book is untouched on the side table. The WWN is tuned to a talk program, the volume extremely low. Bogart and Bacall are snuggled up with me, happy to have me home.
Migraine and nausea are temporarily forgotten when Prunella's head appears in the dancing hearth flames. Her voice loudly calls out, "Furnie!"
"No need to shout," I tell her, struggling to sit.
"Sorry, I thought you might be asleep. Lars told me you'd come home not feeling well. I wouldn't bother you but ,"
"What's wrong?" I don't mean to interrupt her. It just bursts out.
"I saw Forest or his double. Are you up to coming?"
She asks this even as I'm swinging my feet off the couch, shoving them into the shoes I'd discarded earlier. The dogs give me disgruntled looks. Giving them pats on the heads I push up from the couch. "Let me grab a coat. Where are you?"
"Dublin. This is an inn, Gorm Spéir*."
That's all the information I need to get to where Prunella is so she moves from the fireplace on that end so I can Floo there. With the migraine it takes all my concentration make sure I end up in the right place and stepping out on the other side I experience passing wooziness.
"Are you all right?" a concerned Prunella asks, moving to cup one elbow with a steadying hand.
"Not really, but never mind for now. Fill me in."
Hand still on my elbow, Prunella guides me out of the inn to a narrow street. "My sister Beata and I came to get a little Christmas shopping done. Coming out of the restaurant where we ate dinner I saw him. We tailed him to a house, a Muggle one. Since I'm the one who knows you, Beata is watching the house and I came back to the inn to deposit the shopping bags and contact you."
By now we're on a wider street lined with Muggle vehicles. Prunella hails a taxicab as expertly as if she performed such Muggle actions on a daily basis. As one pulls up to the curb she explains, "With you not feel well and being a little unsteady from the Floo, I thought a side along apparation might be too much."
A bit more green than I might have thought from using the Floo, I do appreciate her clear thinking on getting us from the inn to this house she mentioned. Just the idea of apparating, even if a side along, has my stomach giving a violent roil. "Good idea."
The distance to the house is short, thankfully so. Not one to generally experience motion sickness, with my current physical state the brief ride has me wondering if I'm going to need a bush to heave behind.
Prunella has the cabbie drop us at the corner nearest the house. As we approach, a woman steps out from the deep shadow of a tree. "That didn't take long."
This must be Beata. The nearest street lamp casts just enough light that even in the gloom I can see she bears a resemblance to Prunella, who is making quick work of the introductions.
"Beata. Furnella. Anything happen?"
"Nice to meet you," Beata says to me. To Prunella she shakes her head, "Nothing, unless he's gone out a back door."
"Good to finally meet you as well."
I don't know all that much about Beata beyond that like Prunella she's retired from the British Ministry of Magic, she's younger than Prunella by thirteen months, and is married with two children. I do not know, however, her married name or for that matter what their maiden name was. She now asks, "What's the plan?"
Prunella and I exchange a look then give mirror image shrugs. "What do you think?" she looks to me.
"I have no idea. I'm of a mind to just go up and knock on the door."
Beata asks, "Do you think that's safe?"
"I have no idea but I can't help but think if we wait, even if we spread out around the house, he'll vanish on us again. I'm going to do it."
"Fine, but let Beata and me get into closer positions to cover you with our wands."
"Yes, all right."
The sisters move with a stealth and a surety that belies their ages, concealing themselves on either side of the house's walkway, as near to the two steps up to the small front porch as possible. When they are in position I take a deep breath, hands to the turmoil going on in my stomach, and blinking rapidly a number of times as if that will drive back the pounding pain in my skull. Determined to do this, I force myself forward.
Once on the porch, I only have a second's hesitation before knocking. There's a little button that if on a Wizarding home would be charmed to produce a sound within the home. A dredge up memory tells me that it serves the same purpose on a Muggle home, sans the charm. I have no idea how it makes the ding dong sound that sounds distant through the closed door and under other circumstances I might be curious enough to ask.
I'm trying to decide whether I should knock once more or push the button again when I hear steps nearing the door following by a familiar voice asking, "Who's there?"
Going on the presumption that he may have no memory of me I raise my voice slightly to be heard through the door and speak as distinctly as my suddenly quaking body allow. "My name is Furnella Hodfuffer. Are you Forest Woods?"
Silence.
Then the sound of a lock being turned and the door opens a crack. "I think you have the wrong house."
I put out a hand to the door frame to steady myself, and not because of how ill I've been feeling. "Now that I see you, I'm positive this is the correct house."
"My name's Dustin Forester."
"Do you remember your life from before a few years ago?"
The door opens a little wider. "How did you know? Do you know me from before the accident?"
"Yes, and your name is Forest Woods."
"That can't be."
"If you had an accident and have missing memory, how are you so sure of that?"
"Because my wife told me."
*Gorm spéir means blue sky in the lovely Irish language.
(Franciscus) Out of Breath
Author: Griet
Date: 02-29-12 18:08
Franciscus and Paton arrived at Ravenclaw Tower, a bit out of breath from all the stairs they'd climbed to get there. They'd just come from Potions class in the dungeons and were quite glad to have the class behind them. They only had one left today and three tomorrow until winter hols officially began.
Between breaths, Franciscus gave the password (digamy) to get into the common room. Paton followed him all the way to their dormitory room, where they each put away their Transfiguration and Potions things. They planned on going downstairs for lunch, back upstairs for their Herbology things, and then back downstairs for class, which didn't start till 2 PM.
But first, Franciscus collapsed onto his bed for a short rest. Paton started organizing the things in his trunk.
"Have you heard if your person liked her gift?" Franciscus asked his cousin.
"I haven't heard, but I suspect she might," Paton replied. "They were cute and girls like cute things, and it's all sweets besides."
Paton was referring to Marjani Batuti, who'd been assigned to him for Secret Santa, and whom he'd gotten mushrooms that weren't actually fungi but sweets. He'd placed an order from a sweetshop catalog that had been circulating the Ravenclaw common room a few weeks ago.
"What about your person?" Paton asked.
"Hunter Green?" Franciscus questioned. "Dunno."
He'd picked out a cap for Hunter. It had ears and was supposed to look like a gray fox. Just thinking it put his sister Griet to mind. Tonight was the full moon. She wouldn't be transforming into a fox but a werewolf.
"Do you want to go eat now?" Paton asked, cutting into his cousin's thoughts.
Franciscus slowly sat up. "Yeah. Let's go."
This time Paton led the way, taking them out of the dorm room and through the common room and out into the corridors and the many, many staircases they had to take to reach the Great Hall.
Rio Caribe, Venezuela
Author: Julian Valentine
Date: 02-29-12 22:18
Tiberius Valentine stands with arms crosses, a somewhat stern though concerned expression causing his forehead to crease. "Are you sure about going alone, Julian?"
"I thought we decided."
"We did but that doesn't mean I have doubts. There's also the fact that where she's staying is somewhat unsavory."
"I think where she is right now is probably similar to most of the places she's lived."
"You have the contract?"
"Right here." Julian pats his chest over the inner pocket of the jacket he's wearing.
Lisette has been silent up to this point. Now, she steps forward to clasp her hands over one of Julian's. "Be careful."
"I will, Mum."
He gives her a reassuring smile then turns to the fireplace. First stop from Valentine Manor via an international Floo conduit arranged by Tiberius is the Caracas, Venezuela office of a colleague. Tiberius's brother Seneca had seen her in Port-of-Spain on the island of Trinidad. Julian and his parents hired an investigator to verify the address Seneca gave them and to determine if the child was hers. In the short time between Seneca giving the information to is brother and the investigator arriving, she'd moved on. Given her lifestyle that wasn't surprising to any of them. The investigator tracked her around Trinidad over to Tobago, on to Greneda, back to Trinidad, to Venezuela's Isla Margarita, and then to the Venezuelan mainland. Unless she's moved again in the half hour since the latest update, she's in the seaside town of Río Caribe, where Julian will apparate after arriving in Caracas.
A short time later he's blinking in the bright light of a warm morning. Following the directions he was given, Julian walks a short distance to a narrow lane that the town's Muggles aren't even aware exists. The buildings have an air of dilapidated dejection. Most who frequent the lane care little for the exterior appearances. Julian has little doubt they are equally apathetic when it comes to interior appearances.
His destination is three buildings in on the right and up a rickety, no railing, one person staircase that terminates at a door painted a garish yellowish-orange. There's no landing. Just the top step then the door, which is set crookedly in its frame. Julian has to give a forceful push to swing the warped wood inward with a grating squeak of its hinges. He visibly shudders at the thought of carrying a baby up and down these stairs and through this door.
There is a dank hallway with urine underpinnings that's dark enough for Julian to raise the wand he's already clutching in his hand. "Lumos."
He carefully navigates to the end of the hallway where there's another set of stairs. He goes up two more floors to emerge in an equally dim, smelly hallway. At the door labeled 3-B, Julian firmly raps several times. A shuffling, scuffing noise can be heard from within, coming nearer to the door. It opens a crack, just enough for a bruised looking, very bloodshot green eye to blearily peer out. A gravelly, smoke stained voice hacks out, "Told 'em I'd have his money tomorrow."
"Vanessa?"
"Yeah. Say, haven't seen you before. You new?"
"No."
"You ain't one o' Hector's?"
"No."
"Who are you then? What ya want?"
"Julian."
"Who?"
"Your brother. I have an offer for you."
The Offer
Author: Julian Valentine
Date: 03-01-12 08:43
The door opens a hair's breadth wider. "My brother? Now that's a laugh."
She gives a derisive snort then opens the door all the way. "I knew I shouldn't a' hit up that old man, but I thought him being my uncle and all he'd help a girl out, you know. They still too busy sitting on lofty airs, looking down their noses at us peons that they had to send a messenger boy? Might as well come on in, tell me why they sent you."
No hello. No good to see you, little brother. No my, you've grown since last I saw you. Julian can't say he's hurt by that so why does a small - a very, very small - part of him wish she'd acted the tiniest bit pleased to see her brother after all this time?
He steps past her into a room with bright morning light streaming through an open, cracked, warped window. Vanessa shuffles past him to a lopsided, lumping couch that has stuffing poking through the many rips i its fabric. Lighting something that does not smell like tobacco, she inhales deeply. She speaks through the cloud of foul smelling fox exhaled, "So? Why'd ya come? You said something about an offer."
Julian does not particularly care to sit on the couch or on the spindly wooden chair that offers the only other seating in the small, dingy room. Sit he does, though gingerly. Best not to be looming over her while they talk.
"Uncle Seneca did mention seeing you. He also mentioned you have a child."
"Yeah. Jazz. Or no, it was X. I think." Vanessa shrugs, taking another deep puff of whatever it is she's smoking.
Jazz would be Jasmine and X has to be Xavier. Not one child but two. Six month old twins.
"Does their father help you out?" Julian already knows the answer to this question but wants to hear it from her.
"Don't know who that is, now do I? Could have been this dealer in Miami or a trick in Havana. Or Martinique."
"Do you feed them regularly? Both are healthy?"
Again, answers he already knows.
"They get fed when I have something to give'em, which is most days. I nick milk for them as I can. Healthy." Another shrug. "Mostly."
"We can take care of them."
"So that's why you're here. They don't care 'bout me none. That offer. Let's hear it."
"In exchange for a generous settlement you sign a legal contract turning over custody to me."
"Money up front?"
"Of course. We only need go to the Caracas branch of Gringotts."
"How much?"
"Five hundred thousand galleons."
"These are my babies. Two of them. Make it a million."
"Seven hundred fifty."
"Eight seventy-five."
"Agreed."
"I need to change. They're in that crate there. Makes a good crib. Some clothes and diapers stacked behind it."
In that shuffling gait of hers she goes in a cloud of stinking smoke to the only other room in the pocket sized flat, a cliched poster girl of an addict. Skinny to the point of emaciation body. Lanky, thin, stringy hair. Pasty pallor. Track marks visible in several spots. Yellowed and blackened teeth.
Vanessa is eleven years older than Julian but looks twenty years older than their mother and that's a somewhat generous assessment.
Both babies are filthy so Julian does his best to clean them before putting fresh nappies and clothing on them. He spots one of those sling type carriers and draped it across his chest. He'll put the heavier of the two, Jasmine, in it, and carry Xavier in his arms.
When Vanessa emerges a half hour later she's dressed in in what sem to be clean if somewhat shabby clothes, and her hair is a little damp still from a shower. "Let's get this done. You want any of their things? Ain't much but take'em."
"No, that's all right."
Vanessa grabs a large, faux leather purse and swings it up over one shoulder. "We can apparate straight from here."
That suits Julian fine as he really was not relishing the thought of walking down those outer stairs while carry both babies, who have not yet stirred. First stop after getting the contract signed and payment made is a pediatric healer to get them checked out.
Julian's thought just before apparating to Caracas is that Grace is going to get a baby - babies - after all.
Contacted
Author: Fritz Schnackenpfefferhausen
Date: 03-01-12 15:44
In the basement of his family's home, Fritz looks over the old chemistry equipment he used to do experiments with before he learned about being a wizard. He used to spend hours upon hours down there, entertained by the results the different chemicals made when mixed together. In many ways, Potions isn't really all that different from Muggle chemistry. In both, one has to measure things out exactly, or the mixture won't come out right.
The basement isn't just filled with old beakers and test tubes. There are also old photo albums, dust-covered books, an ironing board, and the washer and dryer. It's a hodgepodge of things rarely if ever used and things used regularly. Fritz thinks it's about time the older items are sorted through, and if not thrown out, then at least organized better.
Term at St. Emrys has been over for a week now and doesn't start again until late January. Perhaps this will be his project between working at J. Pippin's in Hogsmeade and his family's and Coco's family's holiday celebrations.
He heads over to one of the shelves laden with old books when he hears someone calling his name. It's not either of his parents. His father is still at work and his mother has taken up machine knitting and has gone off to a meeting with other knitters. He is alone in the house.
He knows who is calling him, though. It's the enchanted book from Frau Hockenheim.
Warily, he heads up the basement stairs and then the stairs to his bedroom. He's hidden the book in the back of his closet, but the voice calling him doesn't sound muffled or very far away. When he turns on the light and pushes other things out of the way, he sees that the face is visible in the book's cover again. Fritz picks up the book so that he's facing it properly and asks, "Was wollen Sie?"*
"It's been a while since we've last spoken," the book answers in German.
"We've never really had a conversation before," Fritz retorts.
If the face had had a neck and shoulders attached, Fritz would have felt sure that it would have shrugged. "Very well, but I am ready to speak with you now."
"Why?"
"Because I know you have been researching me."
Fritz doesn't answer. He had been toting the book around on some of his visits to Trier, and if Berthold Beatenberg's spirit is in the book, then Fritz shouldn't be surprised that Beatenberg knows what he's been up to lately.
"You have questions," the book prompts him.
"What are you?" Fritz asks.
"A book of old Germanic myth, of course."
Fritz can't tell if Beatenberg is being facetious or serious. He decides to ask something else. "Are you dead? That is to say, is your body gone and you're something like a ghost now?"
"I'm very much alive," Beatenberg answers.
"So how am I talking to you now? Is this book some sort of communication device? And why was it in the home of a Muggle woman?"
Fritz should just chuck the book in the closet and not engage with this known killer any longer, especially knowing the wizard is still alive and out there somewhere, but he can't help but feel intrigued. How did Frau Hockenheim connect to Berthold Beatenberg, a wizard?
"Yes," Beatenberg says. "I am communicating with you through magic, as for Henrietta…"
The book falls silent the same time Fritz hears his mother's voice call up to him from the bottom of the staircase. "Fritz? Who is up there with you?" she asks in German.
Fritz chucks the now faceless book into the closet and leaves his room. "No one, Mutti**." He takes the stairs two at a time and admires a pair of slippers she must have made during her knitting circle's meeting.
"I thought Coco might like them for Christmas," Frau Schnackenpfefferhausen explains. The slippers are blue and have white flowers on top. "I know she doesn't like shoes, but these are hardly shoes at all. She can keep her feet warm during the colder months when she's around the house."
"I'm sure she'll like them," Fritz says. "Make me a pair too, but maybe without the flowers on top."
He and his mother go to kitchen to think about what to fix for supper and continue to talk about knitting projects and wishes. The book and Beatenberg are forgotten for the moment.
---
* What do you want?
** Mom