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Which House?
Author: Sophie McCourt
Date: 10-22-12 04:01
The thing Sophie McCourt hated more than everything was wearing dresses. Her father had insisted, or in another words demanded, for her to use a velvet blue dress with a matching bow in her dark hair. Sophie thought she looked ridiculous and in her opinion it was too hot to wear velvet. She wanted her muggle clothes back as well as her pair of old sneakers: these new shoes were hurting her feet and she was pretty sure there would be blister in it the next morning.
Sophie could not wait for this event to end so she could go back home to her mother. She knew her father was just using her as a prop so he could play his part of a poor divorced wizard who had a daughter he loved very much. He had told Sophie he was hoping to get her a new mother by the end of the ball, and Sophie had to remind him she already had one and she didn't need a stepmother, thank you very much.
She looked down to her shoes hoping the blisters forming wouldn't be that bad. She and Caleb had planned to climb the hill nearby the zone they lived and Sophie didn't want to look weak in front of him. They have been playing together almost every day but still Sophie could not tell if he was a muggle or a wizard. Yes, he was different from the other Muggle boys she knew but when she asked him what school he would attend next year he mumbled something about an academy for boys. If he was a wizard he would tell her about Hogwarts.
The two of them would always enter in friendly competitions to see who was the fastest, the cleverer and the braver of the two. They would do races, climb trees, and even see who got the courage to invade some of the villager's properties in order to steal an apple from their orchards or a piece of clothe from their scarecrows. Most of the times Sophie would win: maybe because she was taller than him and she knew her way around or perhaps because Caleb was somewhat of a coward in her opinion.
She wished she could speak to him about Quidditch or even Hogwarts but she didn't want to risk it. If he was in fact a muggle then her father would be upset she was related to one and he would demand the full custody of Sophie to her mother. Unlike him, her mother liked muggles and she even married one. Sophie loved her stepfather and her half-sister and the idea of moving in with her father made her want to throw up.
She knew that attendance to this event was obligatory and she didn't mind to spend a night with her father if it meant the rest of the summer at home, without having him controlling her life.
Sophie was very happy when Valeria showed up and quickly the two girls manage to escape the adults' supervision. Valeria made her a tour around the huge manor. Sophie didn't recall being in such a place before and she was impressed by the sumptuous furniture as well as the domination of the green and silver colors: a reference to the Slytherin house.
After the tour the two girls seated in an empty living room occupying two different armchairs. Valeria mentioned she was pretty sure she was going to be sorted into Slytherin and she asked Sophie which house she thought she would belong.
"I'm not really sure…" she replied.
"Grandmother says if I get into Gryffindor she would take me away from Hogwarts. I will walk myself out if that happens."
Sophie tried to picture Valeria walking away from the sorting ceremony with an angry expression on her face. She concluded she belonged to the Slytherin house without a doubt. She was proud and ambitions.
"I wouldn't mind the Gryffindor house," Sophie said.
Valeria looked at her somewhat shocked.
"Really?"
"Well they are the brave and daring ones, aren't they? I wouldn't mind being known for that," but then she thought for a moment and she ended up admitting she didn't really mind have any of the qualities of the other houses as well. "The more I think of it, the more I have no idea which house I'll be into, "she laughed.
Valeria laughed as well, able to relax now that Sophie didn't seem to exactly being supporting the Gryffindor house in particular. Valeria then told her about her skills in brewing potions. Sophie was very impressed. She didn't try to brew any so far. In fact she didn't do anything related with school yet.
After some more chit chat Sophie was feeling hungry and both the girls decided it was time to go back to the ballroom and have something to eat.
(Anthony) Dinner for Three
Author: Beck
Date: 10-22-12 11:49
Anthony took a step back from the table and appraised his handiwork. It had been set with a navy blue tablecloth, bone white china, and polished silverware. There were three places, one at each end for Anthony and Plum, and one in the middle for Alex.
The little wizard materialized from the bathroom down the hall, dressed in neatly pressed shorts and a short-sleeved, buttoned shirt. He presented himself to Anthony and asked, "Is she here yet?"
"Not yet," Anthony told Alex, kneeling to tuck in the boy's shirt and to flatten a piece of unruly hair. "She just firespoke with me and said she would be running a little late."
"Why?"
"Something having to do with work," Anthony explained.
"But why does she have to work today?"
Anthony chuckled. "Because she didn't take a holiday."
"But it's her birthday."
Anthony chuckled again. "Birthdays aren't automatic holidays, I'm sorry to tell you."
Alex seemed to find the concept impossible. He scrunched up his forehead and nose in contemplation.
Anthony stood back up and returned his attention to the table. "Now what are we missing?"
Alex forgot his deep thoughts and looked at the table. "Glasses!"
"Right you are, Alex. Thank you." Anthony fetched two wine glasses for himself and for Plum, and a simple cup for Alex. Then he summoned a wine cooler, full of ice, and from which the neck of a bottle of pinot grigio protruded.
Anthony had just set an orchid on the table, a blue Phalaenopsis, when Plum entered the flat through the front door. She kicked off her shoes and dumped her bag on the small table in the hall before padding into the dining room, where Anthony and Alex stood side by side, beaming at her.
"Happy birthday!" they both exclaimed together.
Plum clapped her hands together, taking in the sight of her two favorite boys and the formally set table. "Thank you!" she gushed.
They had, of course, already wished her happy birthday that morning and cooked her breakfast in bed. Alex had eaten most of the bacon off her plate, though.
He came forward and took her by the hand. "Please, sit down," he told her as if he were the maître d' of a fancy restaurant.
Anthony helped him help Plum into her chair and then lifted the wine bottle from the cooler. "Care for a drink?"
"Yes, please."
He poured her a glass and then poured one for himself. Then he conjured some juice and filled up Alex's cup.
Anthony lifted his glass, and Plum and Alex did likewise. "To Plum on her birthday."
Alex beamed. "Yeah!"
Salzburg, Austria: Beatenberg Family Home
Author: Fritz Schnackenpfefferhausen
Date: 10-22-12 14:07
The old house in Altstadt Salzburg is one Berthold Beatenberg knows well. It was where he and his sister had been born and raised. Unfortunately for Verena, she'd died before reaching her majority. She had been very lovely, with porcelain skin, blue eyes and raven curls, and at her death had left behind many broken-hearted suitors.
The Beatenberg parents and grandparents had died long ago, and with no other heirs and Berthold out of commission for decades, the house had fallen into some disrepair. This had been easily rectified––the dust cleared, the doxies exterminated, and a pair of house-elves procured to maintain the home from this point forward.
Berthold's favorite place in the home is the dank basement. As a child he loved to play there, hiding between the wine casks and startling and being startled by the rats that lived there. Now it serves as his office. The antique oaken desk that his father and grandfather once used stands in the middle of the room. A leather wingbacked chair sits behind it.
A small slit of a window lets in some of the evening light, but not enough by which to read. To compensate, several candles burn in nearby sticks and candelabras.
Berthold has before him a number of dated newspapers from around the European magical community. Any article there is regarding the murder of Gellert Grindelwald is clipped, the rest of the newspaper discarded.
It is his goal to find the wizard or wizards responsible for his master's death. He also wants to know why Grindelwald died. What purpose, after all these years, could there be for killing him? True, Grindelwald had started a war that had killed many and even destroyed entire families. But what sort of wizard would wait half a century to get revenge? It doesn't make any sense.
"Tee," announces one of the house elves, bearing a tray with a clear pot of red fruit tea and a cup and saucer.
"Set it there," says Berthold in German, waving to a part of the desk that isn't cluttered with newspaper.
The house elf obliges and then backs out of the room, even walking backwards up the stairs to the ground floor.
Berthold never once looks at it. He clips out another article, but this one is much like the others. It states bare bone facts: Grindelwald, long-time prisoner at Nurmengard, was killed by an unknown assailant. Other details are scant, as it appears that the authorities have no suspects.
The lack of evidence is discouraging, but Berthold has only just begun his quest. He has no plans to give up just yet.
Butterflies
Author: Jared
Date: 10-22-12 15:40
Jared had done some reconnoitering earlier in the day to find the perfect spot for apparating for a visit to the London Butterfly House in Syon Park, London. Alanna and he have visited before but that had been during the day and they'd arrived by more traditional Muggle modes of transportation. Tonight, though, to help keep the secrecy as long as possible, Jared thought it best to do a side-along apparition with Alanna.
Arriving in the spot he'd picked, Jared lets go of Alanna's hand to slide his arm around her to help her better navigate as she's wearing a blindfold. One of her hands reflexively reaches up to the cloth as she asks, humor in her voice, "May I take this off now?"
Jared starts to use his other hand to swat hers away from the blindfold only to realize he's carrying a picnic basket and would end up conking her in the head. So not the way he wants this evening to start. He settles for, "No, not yet but soon."
Alanna's hand flutters for a second in front of the blindfold before dropping down to grip a wad from his shirt in her fist. "It's a good thing I trust you."
Though she can't see him, Jared grins broadly at her. "So you're okay with the chocolate wrestling and it's a good thing I brought a bathing suit for you to wear?"
"It's a good thing I know you aren't serious or you'd be the one wearing my bathing suit and chocolate wrestling."
"Should I consider getting my own Bronco MacDuff?"
Alanna gives a bell-like laugh. "Yes, because I am secretly attracted to ineffectual, pompous wizards who have to hire a bodyguard. Men like that are sooooo hot!"
"You sounded exactly like Bronwyn just then." Jared halts their forward momentum. "We're here but not yet on the blindfold."
He knocks on a door, which promptly opens. "Right on time," the woman says. She ushers them in as quickly as they can go with the blindfolded Alanna being led by Jared across a threshold that has a rise to navigate. As soon as they are through far enough to shut the door without banging them on their arses, she does a quick visual check of the surrounding area then swings the door closed.
The woman, whose name is Elizabeth but who goes by Beth, leads them down a corridor to another door. Before she opens it she reminds Jared, "You may have up to two hours before I'll need you to go."
"Thanks, Beth," Jared says as Alanna asks, "Where are we? When do I get to see?"
"Just another minute," he promises leading her along a twisting, turning path to a specific spot.
After putting down the picnic basket he moves to stand directly behind Alanna. "Turn just a little. There. Perfect." With that he removes the blindfold before taking a step to stand at her side.
Alanna is met with a tropical jungle alive with the color of hundreds, maybe even thousands, of butterflies. As Alanna loves butterflies, they've visited a few different butterfly exhibits around the UK so it's no surprise to Jared when she turns, a smile of delight lighting up her face, "Which is this one? It looks sort of like the one at Syon Park."
"You are spot on. This is the London Butterfly House."
Jared starts arranging the picnic he'd packed. "We have it all to ourselves for awhile."
"How did you manage that?"
"The woman who let us in, Beth? She's a long time friend of my mum's. I recently learned she works here in a fairly high position." Jared doesn't mention that he also had to file special paperwork at the Ministry for something to come later as it involves magic and this is a Muggle location. Beth was really great about verifying for him that there would be no Muggles around to witness.
"This is so great," Alanna enthuses, "but it seems so quite without other people here. Is it all right to walk around?"
"Yeah, sure."
Jared offers his hand and together they stroll through the butterfly house. In addition to all the butterflies there are other insects, some of them rather exotic. Jared finds them interesting but Alanna's mainly focused on all the butterflies, commenting on this one's unique pattern and that one's coloring. After approximately twenty minutes they return to the picnic where Jared insists on serving everything.
When they've eaten the dinner consisting of some of Alanna's favorites Jared produces two small strawberry tarts, another of Alanna's favorites, from the basket. As he hands hers to her with a flourish she asks, "Okay, I give. It's not my birthday. It's not an anniversary. What's with the special treatment, not that I mind. I don't mind it at all."
"I wanted to make tonight memorable for you, for us."
"It's definitely been that. Don't take this the wrong way but why?"
"Because of this." Jared pulls out his wand and waves it, Alanna looking on in surprise. "It's okay, I've gotten clearance for this."
"Clearance? I don't fol "
Alanna's voice trails off as the magic Jared is performing becomes evident. Hundreds of butterflies are converging together to colorfully spell out ALANNA, WILL YOU MARRY ME?.
"Hold open your hand," Jared says.
Speechless, Alanna complies. A butterfly appears on her outstretched palm, wings fluttering then flies away. In its place is an engagement ring.
Kneeling now before Alanna Jared asks, "Will you do me the honor?"
Elladora, Merton, & Vindictus
Author: Lucius Malfoy
Date: 10-22-12 19:33
Bellatrix, Barty, and Lucius had arrived to Cloris Mockridge's party as Elladora Thickey, her brother Merton Derwent, and her husband Vindictus Thickey, respectively. "Elladora" is an attractive redhead with a shapely, if somewhat pear shaped, figure and just over average height. "Merton," tall but bordering on stocky, shares his sister's red hair though his has a shade more brown to it. "Vindictus" is the short end of tall with medium brown hair having a slight curl and with a decent physique but with a stomach that would clearly easily go to pot bellied if he is not careful with his diet and exercise.
Elladora looks striking in medium mint green robes with deep coral accents while both Merton and Vindictus are both wearing the wizard version of a black tuxedo with Merton having a jaunty blood orange handkerchief folded just so in his breast pocket. Vindictus has a less flashy handkerchief but on his left lapel is an unusual boutonniere made from small, purple aconite flowers. He hopes Cloris remembers similar boutonnieres and corsages worn at some of the past gatherings of a certain, select, group.
Upon arrival Barty as Merton has immediately begun circulating, eager to see familiar faces even if unable to reveal himself to them. Bellatrix as Elladora hit the bar then stood casually, somewhat seductively, leaning against it, surveying the room while attempting not to constantly stare at Cloris with dagger filled glares. She considers it the least she could do after Cloris did send Bellatrix her very own party invitation. Vindictus has chosen to circulate like his "brother-in-law" but more to get in some eavesdropping in an effort to find out if anyone present would take the risk of discussing anything of real interest in such a setting. One never knows when such information would prove useful.
He's helping himself to a selection of the excellent repast offered when Cloris herself sidles near. "I realize I thanked you for coming when you first arrived but let me repeat the sentiment. Thank you. Your generous donation will help many."
Lucius as Vindictus sets his plate down to take one of Cloris's hands in his. Bending to brush a kiss on it, he can feel Bellatrix's eyes boring holes into him. Just to annoy her he lingers over Cloris's hand as he murmurs, "British Wizarding society is truly blessed to have someone such as yourself dedicated to assisting those more unfortunate."
"Such a charmer, you are. Your boutonniere is making me somewhat nostalgic, Mr. Thickey."
"Vindictus, please. This boutonniere takes me back as well to some rather fond memories."
Cloris, her hand still in his, takes a step closer, her voice dropping several octaves as her eyes dart around to ensure no one is near enough to hear. "I am quite familiar with your 'wife' there but who is the man with you?"
"Elladora's brother Merton, just as introduced earlier."
"Don't be coy."
Vindictus offers her a sly smile. "You would not believe me if I told you." He leans closer still to whisper, "Barty Crouch, Jr."
"No." Disbelief is written all over her features.
"Would you hold it against me if I said I told you so?"
"But how?"
"That is something of a mystery to me. My dear wife Elladora is the one who worked that particular miracle."
As if on cue, Elladora glides up next to Vindictus. "Excuse me for interrupting your tete a tete, but I need to borrow you a moment, love." Without waiting for a response from either Cloris or Vindictus, she rapidly steers him away, his eyes giving his plate of food a longing glance, hoping an efficient servant does not whisk it away before he can return to it.
Once well away from Cloris and her curiosity, Elladora nods towards a couple standing in conversation with three others around their own ages. "Why is he here?" she hisses.
"I would imagine because much as you loath the thought, he would be expected to make a sizable contribution to the charity."
"Really, Cloris should have better standards. I can practically smell his bad blood all the way over here."
"Must you be so overly dramatic?"
"Yes, I must. I cannot believe you are so calm about this."
"You want me to go over and rip his heart out in front of everyone?"
"That would be lovely but if anyone's going to do that it will be me." Elladora gets an expression on her face that's practically orgasmic. "Just think of the feel of his still beating heart warm clutched in my hand, mine the last face he sees, his wife and those around screaming in horror. There would be chaos. I could get in a few other kills, like Jameson over there. He has been in serious need of being killed for too many years to count. I cannot understand why no one has done the deed yet."
Vindictus turns to look Elladora straight on. "You may think all these gore filled thoughts that you wish but you will not carry out a single deed. If I get the merest hint you are about to act, spoiling Cloris's fundraiser, I will take you straight home and I will not help you at all this next week in attempting to formulate a workable plan to free two of your family members from you know where."
"Just one? Jameson? I would be quiet and quick and do it out in the garden where he would not be discovered for hours."
"No, absolutely not."
Elladora pouts. Vindictus can well imagine a petulant foot stomping to go with the pout. "You can be so mean sometimes, always ruining my fun."
"Do you want to leave now?"
"No."
"Fine, then I don't want to hear another word about it."
Elladora's lower lip extends out more. She glares at him a moment longer then spins around to march back to the bar for another drink. Vindictus watches her for only a second because turning as well to hurry back to the table for his plate of food.
The Belle of the Ball - Mockridge Manor
Author: Peregrinus Hartcrofte
Date: 10-22-12 19:42
It wasn't often that Pip got a chance to wear dress robes. It had been so long, in fact, that his old robes from Hogwarts no longer fit. Rather than visit Madame Malkin's, however, Pip made due with one of his father's cloaks thrown over his best suit: navy with grey pinstripes. It wasn't an intentional nod to his former House colours from his days in Ravenclaw; it simply suited Pip's lanky frame well. He left his curly dark hair to tumble to his shoulders. Form over function.
His father's cloak had been left with a house-elf at the front door. Pip wasn't certain if it was the same house-elf he had met at the Townhouse. It wasn't that he couldn't tell house-elves apart; he simply had failed to take proper stock of the first elf's face. Now, however, he was in "surveillance mode," mentally primed to look for details and nuances, anything that might suggest that the Mockridges' guests were up to any nefarious deeds.
All of the Blackguard other than Chas had agreed to attend the Ball. As a ghost, Chas would have stood out. This was true of Lilly as well, but as the half-giantess stood by the door without socializing, most dismissed her as being hired security. Poor Lilly. If only Hagrid was here, I'm sure he'd at least talk to her, if not ask her to dance.
At the other end of the spectrum, Ellenora Valdemar had attracted a small crowd of eligible bachelors, as usual. None of the rutting stags stood a chance with her, of course, but at least none of them would question whether or not she belonged at a society function like this. They were far too interested in just how much of her back was exposed by her shimmering golden dress, chosen to complement the periwinkle decorating scheme.
Lancelot and Cassandra had blended so thoroughly into the crowd that Pip had lost sight of them. He occasionally saw Horatio flitting about; most of the crowd had assumed him to be one of the children Cloris Mockridge had invited to introduce to her granddaughter Valeria. Wouldn't they be surprised to know that Horatio had been in the same year as Valeria's parents, and a Gryffindor.
Pip spotted Nephele, playing the gracious hostess, and decided to play party guest. "Ah, Miss Mockridge. So good to see you again. Lovely party." Pip tried very hard at that moment to not think about how stunning Nephele looked in her green dress. He was, after all, on the clock, even if the Blackguard were donating their fee for the fundraiser.
"Mr. Hartcrofte. I'm pleased to see there was no lingering damage from the … accident."
"Only to my pride, which has taken worse beatings in the past. Please, call me Pippin. I trust you received the parcel?"
"We did, thank you, Mister Hartcrofte. We'd best look like we're mingling. Come with me, I'll introduce you to my mother."
---
"Mother, I would like to introduce you to an associate of Kirley's, Peregrinus Hartcrofte. Mr. Hartcrofte, this is my mother, Cloris Mockridge."
Pip took Cloris's proffered hand, kissing it lightly at the culmination of his gentlemanly bow. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Madame. I believe you are well-acquainted with my mother, Malfelica Hartcrofte?"
A controlled but genuine smile lit upon Cloris's face, as if she had been trained from a young age that free expressions of happiness were unladylike. "Yes, of course. Your mother and I shared a room at Hogwarts together." A slight hitch of Nephele's eyebrow, barely noticeable, conveyed that she caught her mother's subtle connotation. He comes from Slytherin stock.
"She sends her deepest regrets that she could not attend, as she already had a prior engagement. I also bring her fondest regards, as well as a donation for your cause."
"How very generous. Of course, you'll have to convey my regards to my former roommate. I wonder, Mr. Hartcrofte, if I could prevail upon the past for a moment and ask if you would mind escorting Nephele in for dinner? Ordinarily my son Kirley would offer his arm, but I shall be requiring him myself. There will be more time for dancing after dinner, if you haven't had the opportunity."
Another gentlemanly bow, and Pip offered his arm for Nephele, flashing her his most roguish smile. "It would be my great honour, Madame."
Filial Duty - Mockridge Manor
Author: Kirley Mockridge
Date: 10-22-12 20:16
Kirley looked up, catching his mother's glance. He knew his former Head of House would understand. "I do believe it's time to escort Mother to dinner," he said quietly. "Be cautious, I'm fairly sure some folks here are not as they seem."
"Are they ever, Mister Mockridge?" Snape drawled in return, earning a slight smile from his former student.
"A fair point, Professor. If you'll excuse me?" When the Potions Master nodded, Kirley slipped away to his mother's side.
"Kirley, dear boy, it's time. Would you escort me around, and then we'll open the dancing back up after?" Cloris asked, her demeanor much lighter than it had been. It seemed that her flirtation with Lucius, no matter his guise, had been good for her, and seeing Nephele escorted by an entirely proper gentleman, her own former roommate's son no less, had done wonders for her mood.
"You look pleased, Mother. A good turn out and a healthy donation, I take it?"
"Yes, quite a healthy donation. I think Minister Shacklebolt will be quite pleased. You will convey it to him tomorrow, with my compliments, correct?"
"Naturally, though I wish you would bring it yourself. You know the Minister would appreciate a personal gesture like that."
"Now, Kirley, you know that I prefer to take a step back from politics, we've discussed this," Cloris said quietly.
"You wouldn't feel that way if it was your good friend, Mister Malfoy," Kirley murmured under his breath.
"Shush, boy. There are many things you do not understand and that is one of them." Cloris looked away and caught the eye of the gentleman with the unusual boutonniere, smiling and nodding her head, wondering if she would get another moment to speak with her old friend before the event was over. It was almost worth the idea of inviting his "wife" and "brother-in-law" to stay on after the party, but the last time she'd allowed that particular female to stay, she'd had to replace the flooring and one of the house elves. But it was still a tempting thought.
Had Kirley any idea what his mother was thinking, or about whom, he'd have been properly horrified. And perhaps would admire her bravery in even considering the idea of house guests. His eyes searched out his twin, barely hiding his smirk at the sight of her on Pippin Hartcrofte's arm. At least she would be safe, no matter what chaos could yet arise. And she had yet to jinx him, so that was to the good.
Before he knew it, the music was beginning again. He turned to his mother. "Mother, may I have the pleasure?" he asked before spinning the older witch onto the floor. With luck, he'd be cut in on shortly and could disappear back to the shadows.
(Phineus) An Elder Leaf
Author: Phyllida
Date: 10-22-12 20:45
Phineus raised a polished, two-tined fork to the glimmering light of the crystal chandelier overhead, turning the gilt-and-nacre handle so that it twinkled, this way, and that.
"Superb! I had no idea the Mockridges retained their sixteenth century tableware! Most wizards threw these out ages ago, in favour of more modern, five-tined instruments..."
He felt himself being propelled by his taffeta sleeve away from the long table. "Come along, Papa..." His niece steered him with a gentle force impressed through her mauve satin gloves. Her dark emerald velvet robe was quilted with green foliage that curled over her bodice in leafy serpentines. A capelet embroidered in the same floral curlicues was draped over her shoulders, against which her auburn curls bounced. Beside her, Phyllida drifted quietly; she'd dressed willingly in her new robes of black mousseline; she seemed distant, however, and there was a glazed, listless look in her eyes that her father could only account to the stresses of her N.E.W.T.S. and the culmination of her studies at Hogwarts.
They passed a moth-eaten tapestry of a unicorn in the arms of a fair lady - the lady, drifting into a quiet doze under the shade of a pomegranate tree, was prodded into wakefulness by the unicorn, demanding to be petted. The handsome oak panels were draped in swags of dark periwinkle silk, borne aloft by tarnished silver mockingbirds that, occasionally, fluttered their wings.
His eyes scanned the colourfully-attired crowd, shifting across endless sets of dress robes. Under the layer of powder, his brow was damp - the exertion of public display had never taken a toll on him before, but how out of practice he was! He remembered to smile; she slack furrows in his cheeks creased beatifically. Nose thrust in the air, a strut of the cane, extend the leg, that's the way, old boy.
How the stifle of years crowded his memory! How long it had been since he had enjoyed the splendour of society, the glimmer of a golden-rimmed spectacle, the pervasive glitter of a grand chandelier. The parties of the old, wizarding Ton sparkled in his memory like the flutter of a moth in the flame; there had been one, very much like this, many years past. His eyes slid past Ferne's pale, serious face, and, for a moment, saw her mother.
Ismene, his sister, his darling, his anguish, in her nightgown soaked with sweat, her auburn hair a flame of ire; on her knees in the middle of a crowded ballroom, stared at by uncomfortable guests in velvet, lace, taffeta; her eyes staring unseeingly, choking on the words of her prophecy.
Phineus felt a shiver run down his spine at the memory.
"Look, Papa, it's Mr. Ollivander," whispered Ferne, gently, indicating a grey-haired man in silvery-blue robes.
Ollivander! He felt a sudden pang of dread cross his heart. Garrick Ollivander had been there the night his squib sister had escaped her attic, shaming the family with her garbled, sleep-walking nonsense; but Garrick had been the one who had taken him aside, and told him that her verse was not the ravings of a woman disturbed, but the insight of a true Seer.
Nervously, he glanced towards his daughter, who gave him a pale-lipped, silent smile of reassurance. The first fresh, green foliage on this withered branch of the Spore tree; a green, serrated leaf, pointed like an arrowhead - an elder leaf.