|
|
Belated Birthday Presents
Author: Bronwyn Dewhurst
Date: 06-18-09 18:50
A few days had passed since the birth of Wolfie Diamond. Bronwyn, Toby, Siegfried and Wotan had been given rooms in the spacious Diamond mansion and had spent the first few days of Wolfie's life marveling at the newborn baby. He had features reminiscent of both the Diamond and Dewhurst families: Annabelle's lips, Wotan's nose, light brown hair and the bluest of eyes. He had incredible lungs and woke up the entire house each time he started to cry in the middle of the night.
Despite the lack of sleep, Bronwyn enjoyed her time in Seattle with her new extended family very much, but in a few short days she would have to return home. She had her job to think of, as Toby, Siegfried and Wotan had theirs. Before she intended on leaving, however, she wanted to give Desi and Bianca their belated birthday presents.
It so happened that one day, everybody left the house except for the three girls. Annabelle and Wotan had taken Wolfie in his carriage for a walk, and Siegfried and Toby had gone to catch a sporting event of some kind. Bronwyn took the opportunity to get in touch with a contact overseas and soon found herself waiting in gleeful anticipation.
"What?" Desi asked, after she noticed Bronwyn's giddyness.
"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all." Bronwyn smiled and sat down in a chair that had prime view of the fireplace.
Desi didn't look convinced. "I think you're up to something. Isn't she look up to something, Bianca?"
Bianca had been standing by the window, distracted as she looked to see when Annabelle and Wotan might return. Desi had worked hard to keep Bianca and Wotan from every having a moment alone. So far, she'd been very successful in her endeavors.
"Bianca."
"Hmm?" Bianca finally turned around and appraised her twin and her twin's best friend.
"I was just saying that Bron's acting really suspciously."
"Is she?"
"Yeah, can't you t––" but before Desi could even finish her sentence, somebody barreled out of the fireplace. He wore black jeans, black boots, and a black printed T-shirt and carried a guitar case in his hand.
He was followed by an individual similarly dressed, though whereas the first had wavy dark hair and brown eyes, the second had blond hair and green eyes.
Bronwyn jumped up. "Xavier, Blane. You made it!"
Xavier Schoonmaker and Blane Cooley, bassist and drummer for the Wicked Wizards of the West turned dazzling smiles onto Bronwyn.
"We're happy to do you of all people the favor," Xavier replied.
"Great!" Bronwyn seized his free hand and dragged him to very surprised Desi. "Xavier, this is my best friend Desi."
She seized Blane's hand next to and dragged him to the open-mouthed Bianca. "Blane, this is Bianca."
Bronwyn flashed each girl a happy smile and said, "Happy belated birthday, girls!"
Revelations
Author: Harry Potter
Date: 06-19-09 19:49
Kingsley and Harry hadn't made it very far into their search of Euphemia Smythe-Jones' study when Kingsley is asked by one of the law enforcement officers to come look at something. Another two or three minutes go by with Harry methodically searching the room. From where he's still seated Cooper Perdue for the first time addresses Harry directly.
"You must really be loving all this." The comment is made as though a statement of fact, calmly, without even a hint of rancor.
Looking over his shoulder from one of the bookshelves, Harry lifts that same shoulder in a half shrug and gives a shake of his head. "No, not particularly."
"You were one of the ones my mother singled out, relentlessly hunted down, and then sent you to one of those prison communities where, from what I understand, you were treated more harshly than the others there."
"Yes," Harry says, eyes now back on the bookshelf.
"Yet you aren't loving being able to go through her house, to pry into all she held private, to hate her for all she did."
"I didn't say I don't hate her. I said I don't find this particularly enjoyable."
Harry turns then with arms crossed leans against the bookshelf. "I thought I might be delighted to be part of the task force today but I found that I'm not. I would have thought I'd get some sort of pleasure out of it, but I'm finding it distasteful and am trying not to think about already being done because that distracts me from paying close attention. The whole point of the task force today is to pay very close attention to everything. You might not believe this but we really would like to let you get on with your life."
Cooper looks down at his hands, which are clenching and unclenching in his lap. "Sort of hard to do that when I don't even know where my mother is. All of you might view her as a monster but some of those now claiming to find her to be an object of ridicule, hate, and anger are the ones who put her in the Minister's position in the first place. Gave her the means to do what she did. I don't necessarily agree with the means and methods she employed but at the end of the day, she is still my mother. Or was. For all I know Mum is dead. No one will say what specifically happened that day at Hogwarts."
Harry turns back around, resuming his work, studiously avoiding look at the other man. It's only when he hears Cooper rise that Harry turns around again, hand going to his wand should he need it. He doesn't. Cooper is standing with hands clutching the back of the chair where two seconds before he'd been seated. He directs a frank, intense stare at Harry.
"You know, don't you?"
Harry looks away again then back, his brilliant green eyes meeting Cooper's. "Yes," he simply replies.
"Tell me," Cooper requests then more beseechingly says again, "Tell me. Please."
Harry answers honestly, "I don't know if it's my place to say."
"You don't know what it's like, the not knowing!"
Harry arches both eyebrows at Cooper. "I don't? You clearly don't know much about me then. Amazing considering everyone else in Great Britain seems to know as much, if not more, about me than I know myself."
"I know some but I was raised as much outside of Britain as I was raised here, more so really once I became school age."
"Ever wonder why?"
"Mum said she wanted me to have a well rounded education of the world."
Harry looks skeptical but doesn't comment. His silence though is enough to garner him the question, "You know what my mother was thinking? You have a better idea of why?"
"Just a theory," Harry replies without elaborating.
Cooper looks at Harry expectantly, finally asking with exasperation, "Well?"
"I think maybe she had a long ranging plan for gaining power."
Cooper's face shifts from frustrated to puzzled. "What if she did? What's that got to do with why she raised me more out of Britain than here?"
"It helped ensure you didn't have many friends here. Few connections. You would be less invested in the people here, therefore you'd have less reason to openly oppose her when she gained that power she coveted and started a systematic mass persecution."
Cooper's shoulders sag, giving somewhat of the impression that he's been partially deflated. Slumped back around to sit in the chair again, Cooper sounds defeated when he says, "Yes, I suppose that could be true."
Cooper goes silent and remains so for a good ten to fifteen minutes. Whenever Harry's glanced at the slightly older man, Cooper is staring down at nothing in particular, his body in the chair all hunched at odd, crooked angles.
When Cooper does speak it's only because Harry's asking, "Have the security measures on this vault been restored?"
Cooper looks to the fireplace where Harry stands with a hand hovering near one of the bricks. "No, I didn't bother after last time. It's not something easily found before other alarms go off if a thief were in the room but more to the point, there's nothing of value in there anymore. You people took most of the files and I moved what valuables there were to a different vault."
Harry nods, already moving the brick which in turn allows an entire section of the wall to pivot, revealing the vault behind. He's turning to inquire what the combination is when Cooper says, "It should be unlocked."
"I see that now, thanks."
"Earlier when you said I obviously don't know much about you, what did you mean?"
Harry turns away from the now open vault to ask his own question. "What do you know about me?"
"You're a Half-Blood. You killed Voldemort. You went to Hogwarts."
"That's it?"
Cooper screws up his face in thought. "Yeah, I think so."
Harry shoves back the already messy hair from his forehead, revealing his lightening bolt shaped scar. "You don't know anything about this?"
Cooper shrugs, shaking his head once. "No, not that I recall anyway."
"I was born July 1980. In October of 1981, Voldemort went to Godric's Hollow for the express purpose of killing both my parents and me. I lived, getting this scar in the process; they did not. Voldemort vanished and was presumed by many to be dead."
"I know that part. He wasn't dead, just biding his time."
"Something like that," Harry replies, not wanting to get into all the details at the moment about how for a long time Voldemort didn't even have his own body.
"I was left with my mother's sister Petunia, a Muggle. Petunia and her husband Vernon raised me alongside their own son, Dudley. They did not, however, treat me like another son. They didn't even treat me like family. I did not know the Wizarding World even existed until I turned eleven. Despite my uncle's best efforts to keep me from learning about it, from getting my Hogwarts letter, he couldn't. Rubeus Hagrid showed up in person to make sure I got my supplies and then helped me get to King's Cross Station to catch the Hogwarts Express to school. I knew virtually nothing of my parents until my third year at Hogwarts. That's when I learned they hadn't been killed in a automobile accident. I learned that one of his best friends from school had betrayed my parents to Voldemort. Each of my years at Hogwarts I learned bits and pieces about my parents and every year since graduating I've learned more but I still don't really know my parents."
Harry pauses then asks, "You really didn't know any of this?"
"It's not familiar, no."
"While my situation isn't like yours at all, I do know what it's like to not know things about one's parents."
Harry turns back to the vault, thinks of something else to say, so turns right around again. "Look, I'll speak to others and encourage them to talk to you about what's happened with your mother."
"I would appreciate that, thank you."
Harry resumes working, giving the vault a good going over, looking for a hidden compartment within the hidden compartment. Not expecting to find anything, Harry's more than a little surprised when fingers touching the far back corner of the vault cause something to make a snick. Cautious in case there's a hex or other nasty spell in place, Harry finds that one section of the vault does indeed open to another compartment.
In the time it takes Harry to make sure it's safe to stick his hand in to extract the papers, Kingsley has returned to the study. He asks Harry what's left to be gone over then gets to work, looking up with interest when Harry finally brings out the papers from the second compartment.
After a cursory glance at them, Harry hands all but one to Kingsley. The one he hangs on to he studies more closely before asking Cooper, "How old do you think your mother is?"
"Everyone always guesses she's around 35. She had some procedure done a year or two ago that made her look ever younger but she was 51 in January."
Harry holds up the sheaf of parchment he's holding. "This is a birth certificate and if it's the real thing, then she was 67 in January, not 51."
"What?" Cooper exclaims, moving forward to take the birth certificate from Harry.
Kingsley has been giving the other papers a going over. He looks up from one. "Mr. Perdue, your father was Ms. Smythe-Jones' first husband, correct?"
"Yes."
"He is deceased, correct?"
"Yes, he died when I was still very young."
"How did he die?"
"A heart attack is what I was always told."
Kingsley glances down at the paper in the top of the stack he holds. "I'm sorry, but that heart attack might have been induced."
Cooper looks stunned. Harry can't say he's shocked and though he still not all that sure about Cooper Perdue given the fact that at no time does it appear Cooper ever tried to stop his mother from carrying out her vicious plans, Harry does feel pity for the guy. If what Kingsley is implying is true, Euphemia Smythe-Jones killed her son's father.
Taking It Hard
Author: Ella
Date: 06-21-09 16:49
Since breaking the news to his daughter, Dunstan Harville had moved out of the family home, into a flat just outside of the greater London area. He'd arranged lunches with his daughter on a fairly regular basis and wrote her short letters on the days they didn't meet. Each time they met, Ella begged her father to reconsider the divorce. His repeated insistence that the marriage couldn't be repaired made Ella feel more and more upset. She found it easy to escape from her mother's house and visit Zane for hours on end, and though Rosemary Harville worried about Ella, she knew her daughter probably just needed some space.
Ella never spent more than a day at the most with Zane, always returning home at night when he tended to go to work. She didn't really know what he did for a living, and any questions she posed on the subject never offered more than a vague answer. Zane seemed to be a businessman of some sort, and had mentioned working in sales. Sometimes he had obligations during the day, but he often had time to himself until later in the evening. Ella wasn't sure she would want a job that kept her out at night, but Zane seemed to enjoy his line of work.
Zane had sensed that Ella wasn't happy about something, but she hadn't really opened up to him about what bothered her these days. She didn't want him to think that she was nothing more than a child upset over her parents' divorce. Sure, adult children probably didn't want their parents getting divorced any more than kids did, but they probably also handled it better. As far as Zane knew, Ella wasn't a child. He thought her older than her fifteen, almost sixteen years, and Ella didn't want him to learn otherwise.
He didn't pry into her business and simply told her that if she wanted to talk, he'd listen, otherwise he would just be there. Ella appreciated him very much.
As for returning to Hogwarts next year, Ella had informed Zane that she'd failed several of her NEWTs and many of her classes and that she wanted to go back and try again. True, she didn't need to redo the school year. She was of age and could do anything she wanted in her life, but she had decided that she would go through seventh year all over again and finish at the top of the class. Zane admired her determination but wouldn't have gone back to Hogwarts if he'd been in her place.
Ella was secretly thrilled that Zane appeared to believe her ruse. She felt almost certain that she could get through next year, her fifth at Hogwarts, without him finding out the truth. What would happen beyond that, she didn't yet know, but she had more than enough time to figure out a way to cover for herself!
New Broom Purchase
Author: Christopher Chant
Date: 06-21-09 20:13
Candice Chant wanders through Krum's Completely Quidditch just to have a look around before returning to the display of brooms to ask Christopher, "You decided?"
"Since you said no to those," he points to the more expensive models, "then this one." Christopher reaches out to touch the sleek handle of the latest in the Peregrine G-70 Lightspeed line, the Mark VIII.
A boy, whom Christopher recognizes as Coach Batuti's brother, comes over. "That one has two different woods to choose from. You want the light or the dark?"
"Does the type affect how it flies?"
"Not that I know. I can ask."
Christopher nods, "Yes, please."
Zuberi Batuti walks off, returning a minute later to say, "So far in performance tests the two different handle options have given the same results."
"In that case, I think I like the darker one better."
Zuberi goes off again, this time to the stock room. Another person at the counter rings up the Chants' purchase so that when Zuberi brings Christopher's new broom out, they're ready to go. The other boy hands over the broom as he asks, "What year are you?"
"Fourth. Same as your sister."
"Same as me. They're making me repeat. Guess I'll see you in class then"
"Yeah, guess so."
Candice overhears this and once out on High Street asks, "Was he a poor student?"
"Who? Oh, you mean Zuberi? I don't think he's dumb or anything but his grades were bad and then he was removed from school towards the end. His sister is the Quidditch coach, flying instructor, and the Fitness and Athletics professor."
"That's the one from Africa?"
"Yeah."
"What have I said about yeah as an answer?"
"Sorry. Yes, ma'am. Theodosia Batuti is from Africa. She went to Okapi École de Sorcellerie. So did Zuberi and their sister, Marjani until after Christmas holiday last term."
By that time they'd gone around to the entrance at Blossom's for those wanting to play Wizarding lasar tag and Wizarding paint ball. Luke Dawson is sitting outside but seeing the Chants he jumps up, a big grin on his face. Candice hugs the boy, not caring if it slightly embarrasses him.
"It's so wonderful to see you, Luke. I'm sorry we couldn't work it out for you to stay over a night or two before school starts," she tells him.
Luke hugs back, "Weren't for lack of trying to schedule."
Candice opens her purse and hands money to both the boys. "This should cover the games you wish to play and snacks. Christopher, I expect you home no later than six."
"Yes, Mum, and thanks!"
"Yes, thanks!" Luke tells her.
Candice takes Christopher's new broom and the other purchases they'd made today both in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley and leaves the boys to play. She's going to grab a nice cuppa from Madam Puddifoots before going home, nearly forgetting in her haste to get a cup of tea to give Christopher the little bag of floo powder to use to go home this afternoon. Retracing her steps, Candice catches the boys just before they enter the laser tag course, hands the floo powder over then takes a moment to think if she's forgotten anything else before finally going to have a sit down with that cup of tea she's been looking forward to half the morning.