A/N: I won't deny that this chapter gave me trouble, and I'm not entirely sure why. The good news, though, is that I'm sure that I've got my point across just the way I wanted to. I didn't say this before but I strongly encourage reading A Tale of Winter for anyone now joining me, for though it is not entirely necessary, it would be useful in getting to know the characters and stuff. Also, unfortunately, all errors are mine. I've had an offer for beta services but am currently not in a position to take it up, (not going to have stable Internet for a while) unfortunately, and wanted to get this chapter out. Bad idea to post it, probably, but the way things are shaping up, I'll have no choice for a while. Hope you do like the chapter though.
Disclaimer: Not mine, all JK Rowling's, and yet it is taking up more of my time and interest than it should.
*****
Chapter Two
Of all the things I could've imagined my parents to be arguing about, I would've never thought it to be a cat. A year old calico half-Kneazle named Hugo to be specific, which stared disinterestedly out at us from his cage in what appeared a place of honour directly behind the proprietor of Diagon Alley's Magical Menagerie at the main counter.
"Just got 'im three weeks ago, the little darlin', and 'e's been a good 'elp. Caught a smuggler tryin' to sell me Snitches 'e did, 'is first week 'ere. I named him Hugo after my 'usband, 'e was an Auror, you know. Died in the war," she said with more than a hint of pride-and reluctance-in her eyes when Mum selected the cat. But she rang him up anyway and once he was out of his cage, he purred sweetly at me and sprang into my arms to snuggle against my chest.
Mum smiled. "Well that's always a good sign."
Said the woman not holding him, with the shop's non-existent Cooling Charm in full effect, which added unpleasantly to the stench of the cages and pens stacked high, I was well on my way to sweating my way through my top. I would also soon need a very hot, very long bath.
Dad grunted as I began to stroke Hugo's fur, (more in an attempt to put some airspace between its warm body and myself than a show of affection) and then asked, "Do you need any treats for Ophelia, Lillie?"
I shook my head. "No, but I think we should get some stuff for Hugo here."
"Oh, right," he said, and turned back to the proprietor who had already brought two large bags to the counter, and was looking after me and the cat with an expression of open longing again. If it was breaking her heart so much to sell it why was it up for sale? Rigel would have had fun pointing this out to her while smugly petting Hugo and extolling how much he would spoil him.
Mum smiled, and then asked me, "Do you think Milo will like him?"
"Milo?" I asked, surprised.
"Well you didn't think we'd got the cat for you, did you?" asked Dad, without turning around. "You just got your own owl for Christmas."
"No," I said hastily. "I thought it was for everybody, like Crookshanks used to be."
Mum shook her head. "Nope, this one's for Milo, he's been so sad lately and no one's been able to talk him round that... well, I think this is just the thing to cheer him up."
Now I was really surprised. "What happened to the Four Terrors, what about Carl, Guillaume and Francois?"
"Oh nothing," said Mum, a little too quickly for my liking. "They're still friends; nothing could break those four up. Not even a Pettigrew-like incident, because the only Voldemort around is one of us parents. And of course he's still friends with that little Muggle girl, Sophie, so he's always got somebody... I just thought that it would be nice to give him a pet. He's got to be responsible now so...."
Something about what she said disquieted me, for almost no reason at all. I could understand giving Milo a pet to teach him responsibility, he had to maintain a strict potion regimen for the rest of his life, and to be careful around other people and whatnot, so he had to learn from now. But something wasn't right. That was no reason for her and Dad to argue; frankly I was surprised Dad had even thought to protest it. Still, probably none of my business, I just nodded with her and turned to Dad just as he came away from the counter with two large shopping bags of pet supplies.
"Now, can we go?" he asked.
Mum turned without a word and led the way out of the Magical Menagerie. And right into a throng of reporters who'd apparently followed us from King's Cross.
Dad at once barked, "Back off! Let them through, back off!"
It was in his commanding Auror voice, the one that supposedly instilled fear in the hearts of many an unruly suspect. The reporters merely pressed closer, shoving me into Mum and then her into the door of the shop and Dad away from us, shouting all at once:
"Lillie, how did you spend the rest of your school year?"
"Lillie, is Connor Lupin your boyfriend?"
"Harry, how do you feel about your daughter having a boyfriend?"
"Mrs Potter, don't you think your daughter is a little young for dating?"
Oh no, they'd seen Connor kiss me on the platform. I was sure the ring was completely amber again, or worse, grey on my finger. I didn't have to look, I just knew it. Of course, a few months ago I probably would've been blushing and it would have been a brilliant navy blue.
Dad was eventually pushed clear of Mum and me, and that was when, at last, Hugo began hissing and spitting in my arms. When he scratched one of the many hands thrusting towards me as their owners yelled questions, there was a break in the crush, and Mum took advantage of it to grasp me by the shoulders and firmly propel us both through them to Dad, who'd also been trying to fight his way back to us.
"What on earth is their problem today? They know we never answer questions about our children," said Mum, when we were finally reunited.
Dad lifted an arm with a heavy bag of pet supplies and began to clear a path for us back to the Leaky Cauldron, and said grimly, "They saw Connor kiss Lillie, and I know I saw a flash or two."
Mum looked down at me then and smiled. "Oh yes, I'd forgotten about that. My daughter has a boyfriend."
I gave her a smile, and as soon as she looked away it disappeared. Hugo hadn't calmed again since we'd got back to Dad and struggling with him and against the press of the crowd in the unrelentingly late evening heat was making me irritable. Why hadn't they collected this cat before they came to pick me up at King's Cross? Surely they could have done that so we wouldn't have to be going through this now.
And then Dad stopped suddenly in the middle of the street, causing me and Mum to walk and stumble into him, and the reporters around us to pass and then double back, surrounding us completely. Mum put a hand on his shoulder to steady herself, and I was forced to grab onto her, as she hissed angrily at him, "What are you doing, Harry? Harry? W-what is it?"
He did not answer, just kept staring straight ahead, and she eventually followed his gaze and froze as well. I heard what they were looking at before I saw it, for when it spoke with a sickeningly saccharine voice over the calls of the reporters, "Well, well... what do we have here? The Potters!" they all stopped and parted to look too.
The voice belonged to a witch with lightly greying blonde hair kept in tight ringlets about her heavy-jawed face, wearing bejewelled burgundy glasses to match her silk robes, far too much make-up, heavily pencilled eyebrows and long, talon-like nails. She carried a large black crocodile skin bag, from which she was now drawing a quill and parchment, and was accompanied by a slightly embarrassed Dean Thomas. Though "accompanied" may not have been the correct word, for Uncle Dean gave Dad a look and immediately tried to slip away.
The witch stopped him with a word. "Don't stray, Mr Thomas. You and I were having a pleasant conversation; we don't wish to be rude, do we?"
He stopped and looked down at his feet. Then the witch took a step forward, and said to Dad, "Mr Potter, what a wonderful surprise. Here I was, Rita Skeeter, published biographer, renowned journalist-"
"-unregistered Animagus," whispered my mother.
"-and stately matron, (Dad whispered something that made Mum pinch him, hard) taking a stroll through Diagon Alley with Mr Dean Thomas, agent of that elusive Romulus Kveld-Ulf, when who do I walk into but none other than Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the Man-Who-Triumphed, and his lovely partner... (Mum bristled, but Rita Skeeter suddenly stopped stock still and stared directly at me) and, my goodness... is that... is she...? Step aside, let me through, I want to see... Magnolia Potter!"
She at once began marching towards me, but Dad shifted the pet supplies bag before my face and growled, "Back off!"
I couldn't see her, but I knew she didn't. In fact, she only came to a stop just behind the bag and said, "Now, Mr Potter... Harry... you can't go around hiding the child forever. And from what I've already seen, you haven't done a very good job. What a beautiful little girl, she is."
She moved the bag aside as if his hand wasn't there, and bent towards me. Mum's grip tightened on my shoulder and Hugo reared up in my arms. But she just smiled, a heavily red-lipped smile, and said, "You see, I was right. Very beautiful... and she has a boyfriend I hear, Connor Lupin is it?"
I frowned at her. "You're late, everybody knows that."
Her smile vanished. "Just like her mother, I see."
"And quite proud of it," I replied boldly.
I couldn't see her, but I knew Mum was smiling. And then Rita added, "Of course, if everyone didn't know that his father was a dangerous beast, I wouldn't mean it as a compliment. No one would want to enchant the son of a werewolf."
I heard Mum gasp in shock and I snapped immediately, "Get away from me, you cow! My brother's a werewolf and don't you dare insult him! Only a monster would insult someone with a condition they didn't ask for and can't do much about!"
She blinked and stepped back as if slapped. Dad took immediate advantage of this to push us all forward through the reporters towards the Leaky Cauldron again. The reporters did not hesitate to give chase, but Rita Skeeter didn't, and I was quite happy to see that while she had been distracted with us, Uncle Dean had taken the opportunity to slip away. He was nowhere to be seen on the street.
We swept through the Leaky Cauldron, barely acknowledging anyone within, and did not stop moving until we stood at the other side of the wall in Muggle London with our car. And once we were there, Dad turned to me and said, "That was a good one, Lillie, very good. But don't ever talk to an adult like that again, not without a very good reason."
I nodded, and Mum added. "And especially that one, she'll probably have that as front page news in her paper tomorrow, `Little Potter's Potty Mouth!' or something like that. That... witch!"
Dad, in the process of putting the shopping bags into the trunk, turned back to her and arched a brow. "Swearing, Mrs Potter, and in front of the child?"
"I'm not a child," I said.
Mum walked past him to get into the car. "I did not swear, but that woman... she's not afraid of being exposed anymore, or she wouldn't have dared approach us just now." Dad closed the trunk and went round to the driver's door, Mum, opened the door for him and the back for me. And as I got in I heard her continue, "She has nothing to gain from this, nothing, but I'm sure she feels she's sniffed out a story somewhere. What was she talking to Dean about?"
"The comic book?" I offered, helpfully, setting Hugo down on the seat and moving Ophelia's cage up into the back so that he couldn't get to her. "I've heard that she's been desperately trying to find out who he was since they published The White Wolf. She's sure he's a Hogwarts student, a werewolf like Uncle Lupin that Professor McGonagall's been harbouring for years. Didn't the Daily Prophet report that she's been stalking Uncle Dean for months?"
"Oh, I doubt she really cares about that," said Mum, dismissively. "Knowing her it's just misdirection for what she really wants. She was in the Ministry last week, asking questions, and then the next thing I know she's down in the Department of Mysteries chatting up my boss and colleagues. And just yesterday I'm sure I saw her in the supermarket talking to Sophie's mother! As if she would know anything about Milo, they're Muggles!"
At last Dad asked, "You think she's trying to find out about Milo? What's there to know, he's a werewolf, he becomes one every month on the full moon and otherwise he's a pretty normal little boy. Or is that the Wizarding world is really interested in finding out that my son does more or less the same things their sons do?"
Mum muttered something in response to this that I did not hear for just at that moment we were passed by an old Jaguar, the driver honking his horn loudly. But I did hear Dad's response to it.
"Hermione, I don't think-"
Mum cut him off. "Harry, just listen, I'm not asking you to agree or telling you that.... There are certain facts that you have to consider. I'm telling you what I've observed."
I decided to interject, not wanting to see them argue. "Is something wrong with Milo?"
They both flinched slightly as if only just remembering that I was there, and Dad replied, with an air of finality that also ended the conversation between them, "There's nothing wrong with Milo, he's not taking the transformations well and with the full moon in a few days... well, everyone's on edge."
"Then he's not okay," I replied. "But I already knew that."
They exchanged a look in the front seat, and Dad said, "You'll see when you get home. Actually, I think you coming home might be just the thing Milo needs, he hasn't seen his brave big sister in months."
There he went eerily echoing Connor earlier on the Express, as if I were some kind of lucky charm or walking Pepper-Up Potion. If Milo was taking a bad turn, the last thing he needed was to see me. I was currently at odds with someone desperately seeking a way to end his suffering, regardless of the risks and consequences. And though I had and would not breathe a word of it to anyone, I could not bring myself past the reality of his involvement in the Dark Arts.
Oh wonderful, the ring was amber again.
*****
Almost three full hours later, we would at last drive past the war memorial to my grandparents and Dad in Godric's Hollow village centre. The sun had only just gone down an hour before and so the night sky was lanced lavender and navy blue from the western horizon, and the air was still warm. Fireflies floated and twinkled like fairy lights in the bushes we passed, and crickets sang loudly through the dusk. I could just see myself sleeping with the window open in the coming weeks, and counting down the days until we'd visit the Weasleys and go to the sea. The seaside was my and Rigel's favourite place in the summer, but no matter how Grandma Molly cajoled, pleaded and outright ordered her to go, his mother never joined us.
I looked up at the memorial, gently lit by the yellow-white light of a nearby streetlamp and said, as I did every year, "You know everyone who sees this is going to think you're still a baby somewhere."
Mum looked across to Dad and said, "Don't be silly, you're fourteen years old, not four. No one is going to think that."
"No," I conceded. "But the Muggles sure think you're crazy if you ask them why there's a monument to a little family in the village square."
Dad, laughed at that, remembering the incident when I was four, and replied, "Well I'll see about getting it updated and made visible to the Muggles then. And also make sure that I look five years old with a complete explanation that I am no longer a baby, but in fact now a father of three, myself."
I grinned at him in the rear-view mirror, and then looked out the window again as we turned off Main Street into the road that led to our home.
The new Potter house in Godric's Hollow was just a street down from the old one, still standing as a decadent monument to my grandparents' sacrifice and Dad's first victory against Voldemort. Dad had told us all of the Christmas he and Mum had first seen it and our grandparents' graves during the Second War, how he'd felt like he'd come home at last and knew, just knew that he had to come back there with his family some day. And he had, Milo, Mackenzie and I had all been born in the village hospital, attended its small Muggle primary school and discovered our own favourite little haunts all over where we'd play for hours with our cousins and friends. He and Mum had married in the same church his parents had been buried nearby, chose a home that was walking distance from his old one so he could go back every once in a while "just to be close to them", and had settled into the often quiet village life with ease Uncle Ron still marvelled at.
Of course, he was one to talk. He lived in Ottery St Catchpole, a village just like our own, walking distance from his old family home and if ever there was a quieter place, I'd certainly never seen it. The most exciting things to happen there were when Uncle Bill's wedding was attacked and Aunt Luna's family home blew up during the war, the latter a subject that always brought an embarrassed flush to Grandpa Xenophilius' face if ever it was mentioned in his company. I often wondered why.
Every light was on within as we pulled into the drive before the large, two-storey mock Tudor cottage that Mum just had to have when she saw it. Dad had supposedly not gone along with her when they decided to find a home, but had asked only that it be close to his parents' house. Aunt Ginny and Uncle Ron still both thought he was mad. And with five bedrooms, six bathrooms, a large kitchen, dining and living rooms, and private office as part of a library and den, it wasn't exactly a cottage, more of a miniature manor in need of a name. In fact, the Daily Prophet, most of the Wizarding world and a few of our Muggle neighbour's actually did call it Potter's Rest.
Before the car's engine shut off, the front door swung open and my younger brother and sister came running out to meet us, singing together happily: "Lillie's home! Lillie's home! Lillie's home!"
Or rather, Mackenzie was running while Milo was hobbling over as fast as he could, on a cane that looked very much like the one Uncle Lupin sometimes used around the full moon. The sight pinned me to my seat. Mackenzie had apparently become slightly plump in recent weeks, and now wore her dark red hair in a bowl cut, but the tinted glasses over her bright hazel eyes were probably not real. Milo, though, had shrunk where Mackenzie had expanded, and now looked rather wan and thin, (not to mention hairier for his sideburns were clearly visible along his face, as well as the hair on his hands, legs and chest.) But his flyaway brown hair and smiling green eyes were reassuringly familiar as he and Mackenzie hurried over to greet us at the car.
Dad groaned. "What did I say about them just running out of the house... where is that Emily?"
The babysitter, a tall, broad blonde Muggle teenager, the niece of the village vicar, appeared as if summoned immediately after that, and called, "Mr and Mrs Potter, you're back! Thank goodness! Hey Lillie!"
I smiled at her, and she continued to Mum and Dad as they got out of the car, "They were no trouble at all, even Mackenzie."
"That's good to hear," said Dad, without looking up to her as he went around to the trunk to get the pet supplies and my trunk. "We have to go to dinner in half an hour and I'd hate to have to deprive one or the other that."
Mackenzie and Milo both looked up from my door to flash him bright grins, then proceeded to wrench it open and try to drag me out.
"You're going to dinner?" asked Emily, now out on the path and coming over to us. I finally surrendered to my siblings, but regretted it the moment I was out of the car for they both decided to crush me between them in a greeting hug and Milo's cane poked me sharply in the thigh.
"Yes, you've heard of our new neighbours, the Lupins?" asked Mum, on her way into the house dragging my trunk behind her.
"Yes, they took that house on the other side of town. I watched their baby last month, Zoe-she has the most beautiful eyes, don't you think? Like Elizabeth Taylor's. I wish I had eyes like that-I'm planning to be a professional nanny so it was good to get the experience with an infant. She wasn't much fuss but she would not be quiet, she just babbled on and on all night until she fell asleep. And Mrs Lupin is really cool, she has the best music I've never heard of and her hair... if I dyed my hair Auntie would have a fit. She says she'll be praying for Milo, by the way, we're all thinking of him."
"Thank you, that's good to hear," replied Dad. "And if you need a recommendation I would be happy to write one."
I finally wrestled myself from the two and holding them both at arms length, said, "Hey, calm down! You saw me at Easter."
"They have a son too, about your age," Dad continued. I looked up at him sharply, and he hastily added, "Of course, he's Lillie's boyfriend so I wouldn't get too close...."
Emily meanwhile, was goggling at me. "You've got a boyfriend, I couldn't have one until I was sixteen. Is he cute?"
Mackenzie grinned like a Cheshire cat and said, "He's very cute, and he and Lillie are always kissy-kissy." She puckered up her lips and mimed kissing me, and when Milo joined in I realised, with a sigh, that they were just fine. What on earth had I been worried about?
Mum reappeared in the doorway then and said, "Well come on, you all, we're going to be late, you can catch up with Lillie later."
"Oh right," said Dad then, and reached for his wallet to pay Emily for the night.
I turned back to Milo and Mackenzie, still miming kissing, and now hugging themselves in a manner that was going to get them both hit if they didn't stop soon, and said, "Hey, Milo, I've got a surprise for you."
"What about me?" Mackenzie asked, frowning.
I smiled at her, and turned back to the car and climbed in to retrieve Ophelia and Hugo. The cat was fast asleep but my owl was happily flitting about her cage, and even tried to nip at my fingers as I grasped it by the bars. When I came out of the car again, I handed the cage to Mackenzie and the cat to a very surprised Milo. "Here, Mackenzie, you can take Ophelia to my room, and Milo, this is Hugo, your cat."
Mackenzie nearly dropped my owl in shock, but Milo looked between me and the cat a few times before exclaiming, in wide-eyed astonishment, "I've got a cat?"
Mum, Dad and Emily, who was now walking down the drive to the street, all turned to look at us. Then Mum smiled, "Yes, you've got a cat. You've been very brave so I think you've earned him. But you've got to be responsible and remember to feed and take care of him. Cats don't need a lot of work but they do sometimes need a lot of attention."
Milo turned to Mackenzie-who had moved from shock to scowling-and said, "I've got a cat!"
Emily smiled and said, "Yeah, you've got a cat. A tortoiseshell-and-white... I hear they're really lucky, something with the Chinese... later!" And with a wave she continued out the gates, then down the street to her house.
Milo hobbled over to Mum as fast as he could carrying Hugo now, and hugged her around her waist. "Thanks a lot!"
She bent and kissed his head. "You're very welcome. But don't forget to thank your father, it was his idea too."
He quickly released her to hug Dad, and after he ruffled his hair a moment, Dad turned to us and said, "Remember, dinner? We're going to be late?"
Mum gasped and started, "Right, come on, everyone into the house. You have ten minutes each to freshen up and change. Your best clothes, you three, and that includes being clean. Unfortunately you can't bring Hugo along, Milo, because of the baby. Until we take him to the vet we can't risk exposing her to anything."
Milo looked as if he hadn't heard her, still staring in awe at the little cat in his arms, absently stroking its fur, but Mackenzie was smiling again and happily marched off into the house with her head held high. I sighed, smiled to myself and followed them.
.
It took us all over forty-five minutes to actually be off, by which time the night sky had blackened completely and Mum was muttering angrily under her breath about irresponsible fathers and our lack of housewarming gift, which someone was supposed to get but couldn't be bothered because he got distracted by more interesting ads for a new racing broom for himself. Dad gave her a lopsided grin, she smiled beside herself and when we all were seated in the car, scrubbed, brushed, zipped and buttoned into freshly pressed clothes and smelling faintly of roses, she turned to us in the backseat and said, "Best behaviour people, Mackenzie this means you-buckle your seatbelt, I know you don't like it but we can't leave unless you're wearing it-don't wake Zoe again because you `just want to play with her'. She's a baby; she needs all the sleep she can get. And Milo, don't try to break into Connor's bedroom again either."
I looked over to my siblings in amazement, and was greeted by two broad, angelic grins. Though one of them was mildly incapacitated, the little buggers got around.
Despite the fuss Mum had made about us being late, it was a relatively short drive over to the Lupins. All of fifteen minutes, and we were parked before a cottage, noticeably smaller than our own, but still looking like home with its rust-red brick walls, thatched roof and windowsill plant boxes. The lights from within cast a soft glow on the rhododendrons without and flowering ivy that climbed the sides, a wordless invitation to visitors that offered a tantalising peek at what appeared to be a neon green living room. It was beautiful and I imagined quite comfortable for a family of four, but my first thought was that I'd liked the old house better. That one had looked lived in, this was slightly greeting card.
As if reading my thoughts as he shut off the engine, Dad replied, "It was the best they could afford, and since Remus goes back up to the old property at the full moon, perfect really. Tonks likes it too, surprisingly, says no Dark Wizard in their right mind would think she lived in there. And she's already redecorated the interior, the kitchen's orange and elephants."
"Elephants?" I asked, getting out of the car.
"Yep, elephants," said Mum. "Cookie jars, ornaments, the kitchen clock, the print on the mugs, kitchen counter, place mats... you name it, there's a Victorian print of an elephant on it. I have no idea why, but she says the baby made her do it."
"How's that Zoe's fault?" I asked, turning to help Milo out with his cane which had gotten stuck between the front seat and his door.
Mum shrugged. "I don't know. Everyone already knows she's... well, Tonks, she doesn't need to excuse her behaviour. Of course, given where we're living now she probably felt the need to explain it to our neighbours, I've heard more than a few whispers about her hair. Honestly, you'd think that it didn't matter what someone looked like, Tonks is a strong, brave woman with a difficult, demanding career. It's great that she allows her personality to shine through; Zoe's a very lucky little girl to have her really. And even luckier to grow up here, there's so much magical history connected to this place that she already has an advantage over her future schoolmates."
Dad shook his head at her. "Why am I not surprised that Hermione Potter sees the educational benefit above all else? But how can she neglect the benefit of knowing all the colours on the spectrum before you can talk, and all the exotic animals on the planet you've never heard of and may never see in real life before your first day at school? She and Connor have had an unfair advantage over our children before they were even conceived." Then he stopped, paled, and said as if ill, "Oh... Merlin... I just thought of Professor Lupin and Tonks... together...."
My exclamation of "Ugh!" was thankfully lost under my Mum's, "Oh, you!" She then playfully swatted his arm, just as the door opened and Connor appeared in a neatly pressed shirt and trousers, his hair brushed into submission, holding a chubby and fidgeting Zoe, dressed in a bright yellow sundress with a matching sunflower bandeau on her head.
She let out a delighted squeal when she realised there were visitors, and turned up to Connor, babbling excitedly, as if to inform him of this fact. He smiled, and said, "Good evening, Uncle Harry, Aunt Hermione, hi Milo, Mackenzie... Maggie...."
Dad cleared his throat loudly when Connor gave me a lopsided grin, and asked, "Where's Remus and Tonks?"
Connor looked back to him and adjusted Zoe, who had just stuffed a tiny fat fist in her mouth causing a string of saliva to form, and toppled forward, before replying, "Inside, well Dad's inside, Mum just got a summons and had to rush out."
Dad, leading the way into the house after Connor, stopped in his tracks and asked, "Did she say what it was about?"
Mum inhaled sharply, but said nothing, and I saw Milo's and Mackenzie's faces fall. If Aunt Tonks got a summons, it was only a matter of time before Dad got one too. Though she had seniority on Dad in the Ministry, having been an Auror long before the war began; the war against Voldemort had done a lot to get Dad into a position where he was almost at the same level as Aunt Tonks. And since their shifts had both ended earlier that day, if they had recalled her to help it was only a matter of time before they called him.
"No, but Kingsley Shacklebolt personally delivered it," said Connor. "And he didn't have to say a word. Is this about Lady Voldemort's War?"
The owl sailed in the door just as Connor made to shut it after us, and Dad took advantage of this to ignore Connor's question.
Though we all knew the official report on the thwarted attempt by Dark wizards in Eastern Europe to revive Lord Voldemort's "movement" last winter, there were details our parents refused to discuss. This was most surprising for mine in particular, who hadn't had such reservations when recounting the Second War. But something about this was different, and not just because the man who'd led it had marched under the promise of the Dark Lord's Heir rising up to help him. Of particular concern was exactly how much he had known of Camilla, when I'd just thought that no one beyond her belated parents, the Order, some of the higher officials of the Ministry and I did or could find out anything.
Dad read the letter the owl had brought in silence, then turned to Mum and said, "Give my apologies to Remus, I have to go, I'm sorry."
Long accustomed to him having to rush out at odd hours, she just nodded and gave him a quick kiss. Then he treated the rest of us to warning glares, including Connor, stepped back out of the house, walked around to the backyard and Disapparated. Then Mum turned to Connor and said, with levity I doubt she really felt, "Well, as Ron would say, the less to dinner the merrier, is your Dad in the kitchen?" Connor nodded. "Take us to him, then, I'm starved."
Uncle Lupin looked up with a smile from the stove when we entered the kitchen, which was as bright orange and elephant-themed as described, and said, "Mrs Potter and family, welcome to our humble abode. By the notable absence in the room, am I to assume that Harry just received his summons?"
Being a werewolf had prematurely aged him, a terrifying thought for Milo's sake, but under the greying brown hair and wrinkles, Uncle Lupin was a rather sprightly, if not surprisingly cheeky fifty-four year old. Fourteen years his junior, Aunt Tonks claimed it as one of the main reasons she fell in love with him. At which point Uncle Lupin would state that "fell" was a literal description of the matter, and she would roll her eyes and hit him.
Mum nodded, sighed and then said with a bright smile, "Hello Professor Lupin, look who I've brought."
I was grabbed and shoved forward, just as he came away from the stove admonishing lightly, "Hermione, it's no longer `Professor', I haven't been a teacher for many, many years now. Call me Remus, or as my darling wife likes to say, Mr Tonks. Now, hello Magnolia, welcome home."
"`Mr Tonks'?" asked Connor, surprised.
Uncle Lupin suddenly seemed to be doing his best to suppress a smile. "That's what your mother has been telling the neighbours since we moved in. When a few of them came over bearing gifts last week and stayed for dinner, she explained that I was the most effeminate, sickly and helpless man she'd ever met and she'd only married me out of pity and her naive feminine desire to change my ways. And since I couldn't be trusted to work outside the house, for I'd just embarrass myself, she thought it was best that she be the breadwinner while I stayed home and raised the children. Consequently she had not taken my name but I had taken hers. Of course, if I was such an effeminate, sickly and helpless man, should one really trust me to raise children... or having them for that matter?"
We all laughed and Connor asked, "What did they say to that?"
Uncle Lupin went to the cupboards to start setting out the dishes, and for the first time I saw that he too was leaning heavily on a cane and had thick curling hair along his arms and going down his back. "While I was out for groceries with Zoe two days later I was approached by no fewer than four different women, each empathising with my situation and inviting me for tea. Zoe and I ended up having quite the afternoon. She got a tour of the town, I had more tea than I could stand, exchanged gardening, child-rearing and cleaning tips and, if I'm not mistaken, found five girls who would be just wonderful for you." With a flick of his wand the dishes, cutlery and glasses left the cupboards and arranged themselves in six places at the table. Another, and Zoe's highchair was brought alongside the head of the table where he was to sit. Then he turned to me and said, "Of course, I unfortunately had to dash their hopes and inform them that he was already taken."
Connor glanced at me, blushed and looked away while I did my best to keep my expression neutral. Having your family know about your relationship was much worse than having your schoolmates, I was discovering.
Mum asked, "What about the wizards, met any among them here?"
He suddenly looked aghast. "Why Mrs Potter, what are you implying? I happen to be very much in love with Dora." Then, with a hint of mischief, causing my mother to roll her eyes: "Has anyone said anything? Was it Severus? I know he's had a thing for me since Hogwarts. Obsessed with my secret since childhood, brewing my potion without much of a fuss, mentioning that adding flavour would render it useless...."
Mum folded her arms and glared. "I meant have you met any of the other wizards in town, like you've been visiting with the Muggles?"
At this his light expression dimmed slightly. "Yes, I met a few. None too thrilled that there's a werewolf in the village but I don't expect they'll be stirring up trouble. Statute of Secrecy and all that."
"I'm sorry, Remus," said Mum, her expression softening and going over to put her hand on his shoulder.
He shook his head at her. "It's all right, Hermione. We had no delusions of anything better, I'm still a werewolf, and they still don't trust me."
"But it's not right," said Mum. "You're a good man, and a good father. What you become once a month should not define you."
Uncle Lupin offered her a half smile, and then cleared his throat and said, "Well then, let's eat before the food gets cold. This is a house-warming dinner, and though not everyone's around, it should be light and cheery. See, Zoe got all dressed up in her light and cheery clothes."
We all turned to look at her in Connor's arms and after a moment of warily staring back, she raised an arm in the air and began to babble excitedly, clearly happy at being acknowledged.
Mum smiled. "She's very talkative."
"Oh yes," said Uncle Lupin, turning back to the stove to get the pots to the table. "While we were having tea she carried on most of the conversations. She's just like her mother, since she discovered she's got limbs and a voice she hasn't been able to sit still or quietly. I'll put her down for a nap and she'll just lie there talking to herself until she falls asleep."
"So we've heard, sounds like Mackenzie" said Mum, beaming at her. "The other two were always very quiet, half the time you'd forget they were even there."
Milo, Mackenzie and I exchanged a glance and then sat down together at the table. Dad and Aunt Tonks weren't here and so without them as buffers, it was guaranteed to be an evening of literary discussion on books of the Wizarding and Muggle worlds and the merits thereof. Connor caught my look with an arched brow, and then stifled a snort as I gave an exasperated sigh.
"It won't be that bad," he mouthed.
Mum asked, "Did you read Cate Shaughnessy's Quidditch Season?"
"Ah, the wonderful and ultimately shallow memoirs of the husband of a star Quidditch player? Intentionally written so by the author in response to hearing the complaints of one such individual? How could I not? I empathise with the gentleman completely," replied Uncle Lupin. "But do you hear that Taliesin Rhys-Hussey is planning a children's series with his daughter, Aderyn? Something for Mackenzie."
Mum gave an exaggerated sigh. "That one does not read, like her father and Uncle Ron she prefers to have the story related to her by other people. Has he finished with DEATH EATER yet?"
Connor turned back to me with a pained grimace.
"See?" I mouthed. He silently laughed.
.
While our respective parents washed up after dinner, and Milo and Mackenzie attempted to fight post-dinner drowsiness with a fierce round of Exploding Snap in the living room, Connor gave me the official tour of his family's new home as we went up to put the finally sleeping Zoe to bed.
It truly was as small as it looked from the outside. Just three bedrooms, two bathrooms, the kitchen, the living and dining room were one, and the attic was really a crawl space. Yet all had been undeniably treated to Aunt Tonks' touch, though with a hint of conservatism that once again had me staring in wonder. Clearly Uncle Lupin had rubbed off on her, or she was really trying not to scare off the neighbours like Mum thought. Though the colours were loud and some of the ornamentation would surely raise an eyebrow or two, it all matched. But there was only one room that I wanted to see.
As we stood on the stairs looking into the attic where they'd stuffed most of what they'd salvaged from the fire, I asked, "So, where's this famous studio of yours?"
Connor, still holding Zoe, so long asleep in his arms that she was snoring quietly, replied, "In the basement, but we have to be quiet."
I glared at him. "What do you think I am, stupid? Milo and Mackenzie couldn't keep a secret if you threatened to drown them."
He smiled the patient smile he'd taken to using whenever he deemed I was being irrational or we'd strayed into forbidden conversational territory, and said, "I meant, I don't think your Mum would like the idea of us going down to the basement alone, or that she couldn't have the door open to see what's going on."
"Oh, right," I replied, mildly embarrassed. Then Zoe stirred in her sleep and I said, "You should put her down. Mum says that if you take babies up every time they cry or carry them around all the time, you'll spoil them. They won't behave when they get older."
He shook his head. "Mum and Dad have all of nine months to undo the damage... and I've just got home today. One day's not going to ruin her forever."
"You should still put her down, she's sleeping," I pointed out.
"Come on, let's get to the basement before they realise that we've stopped walking about," he said and turned to go down. With an exasperated sigh and as quietly as I could manage, I crept down to the basement with him.
There was a moment of panic when Mackenzie looked up and saw us passing in the hall, but then Milo distracted her by winning and she had to jump away in her seat to prevent her eyebrows from being singed off in the resulting explosion. Zoe flinched, but did not wake at the sound, and as soon as she had settled again, Connor opened the door to the basement, at the back of the stairs in the narrow hallway, and led us down.
It was a wide open space, the entire ground floor of the house, with small casements high up on the clinically-cream walls and dark brown carpeting. For the most part it appeared to be a storage space like the attic, and we walked past more boxes, old furniture and other stuff that took up half the floor that were slightly charred and smelling faintly of smoke. When we were in the centre of the room though, Connor drew his wand and tapped the air before us about his waist, which caused me to draw a sharp breath and protest in a loud whisper, "We can't do magic out of school, we're underage!"
He shook his head. "Technically I haven't done anything. It's wand activated, and with my Dad and your Mum here the Ministry would believe it was one of them."
"Have you never heard of the Trace?" I began to ask, when suddenly a door and wall appeared, and the door opened to reveal the studio.
I gasped, looking in. What would Rita Skeeter give to see this?
The walls in here were dark blue plaid and ivory and plastered with prints of his old drawings, framed posters, sketches and copies of the comic books. On cedar shelves there were the various awards he'd won, prototypes and samples of merchandising products, and, of course, art supplies. Free-standing shelves contained what looked literal thousands of books-possible research material as most appeared to be academic publications, on wolves, runes and Norse, Ancient British and Scandinavian mythology-and notebooks that were undoubtedly stuffed with his own plot ideas and plans. He had three large desks, on which were mounted three large lamps and a series of brightly coloured souvenir mugs in which were his pencils, paintbrushes and markers. But most wonderful, and curious, nowhere was there evidence of a clandestine Potions laboratory or ritualistic use of the Dark Arts. It truly was an artist's studio.
When he noticed that I was staring at the mugs, which had drawn my attention only because of their number, (I counted at least twenty-seven) he replied, "They used to be my Dad's. While his family travelled the world for a cure when he was younger they used to collect them, and when I got my first art kit, he gave them to me to use as pencil holders. I like them, you see, and considering that we could never afford to travel abroad for vacation, and won't be able to without suspicion until well after I'm of age, the souvenirs make me feel like I've been there, and it's something to work to."
Unable to think of something better to say, I said, "Uncle Lupin's parents travelled the world, didn't they?"
Connor smiled and shook his head. "They'd certainly tried, but no. I had told Stanislav and Svetlana about it once, the souvenir mugs, and ever since whenever they travel with their Dad they send me a few. I've gotten even more than my Dad's parents did; at last count I had two hundred and nineteen. The rest are in this cupboard by the door."
I looked down to a small glass cupboard on the opposite side of the door, well away from the reach of it in the event that the door was thrown open carelessly, and sure enough it was stacked full of mugs. The benefits of having the children of international Quidditch star Viktor Krum as pen-pals just kept on coming. Best friends in a society heavily prejudiced against werewolves, enablers of secret Dark Arts-research, and now hobby aids.
I turned back to Connor with a sincere smile. "Pre-emptive action, nice one."
At first he gave me a puzzled look, and then said, "No, actually it's for me."
When I lifted both eyebrows at him, he explained, "Being a Metamorphmagus has an unfortunate downside. Though you can change your appearance at will, the price is that it messes with your control of your motor functions. I can be as dead clumsy as Mum. You should have seen me when I was younger... or maybe not, I was a mess. I couldn't control my morphing and therefore I couldn't control my movements. Not morphing means that I have control, less accidents, less humiliating moments and of course, a less distracting appearance overall. Professor Snape couldn't stand it when I got embarrassed and my hair turned magenta."
I smiled at the thought, and then Connor leaned forward and quickly kissed me. I drew back, surprised, and he said, "I like it when you smile; you're very beautiful when you do." Then he blushed, bright magenta, and his hair shortened and turned it too.
"Are you trying to get me to kiss you again?" I challenged, folding my arms. "You happen to be holding an innocent but very impressionable person in your arms. She shouldn't be exposed to this kind of behaviour."
He grinned and I thought I felt my insides melting.
"Am I that obvious?" he asked.
I pretended to think about it, and then replied, "Yes."
He leaned to kiss me again, and intentionally, it felt, stumbling into me a bit. "Well in that case...."
.
We would finally leave the Lupin house well after midnight, with Milo and Mackenzie at last losing their battle with sleep and having to be carried into the house by Mum. Dad and Aunt Tonks had not returned, and were unlikely to until well into the next day, but no matter, they had the rest of the vacation to catch up with us still. I myself had begun to think of all the wonderful things I could get up to in the next two months, most major of which appeared to be sleeping.
But then there was also the possibility of Connor and me working through our problems for the better. As I at last climbed into bed, turning away from the open window where the light of the waxing moon shined silver-blue over the slumbering village and the night air at last flowed refreshingly cool, I realised that we'd just had the best evening together in weeks. And even when Zoe awoke and we had to run up to her room to put her to bed before the others came hurrying down to investigate.
To prove it too, just before I removed my ring as I changed for bed I noticed that it was at last a brilliant light blue.
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