Recruiting a Spy
It's been a long day for Martin Rathe, but at least it's over. He could, like he normally does, apparate home, but then he'd miss out on important thinking time; time to control his emotions and thoughts. Frowning, Martin walks down Diagon Alley, away from the Ministry of Magic, with his satchel slung precariously over his shoulder. In his arms he clutches a number of thick file folders loaded with parchment: he's taking work home again, Angelina won't be impressed.
Diagon Alley is often full to bustling and today is certainly no different than most. The after work crowd descends upon the streets and there are the constant *pops* and *cracks* of adult wizards and witches coming and going. Astra cannot be bothered with such mundane magic and in true show of her desire for drama she chooses her alternative method. Blue sparkles appear overhead and come down to the ground, confusing a few people who are ever so inconveniently in *her* way. A sudden *flash* of light and the woman stands solidly on the street acting as if she owns the cobblestones beneath her feet. A middle-aged wizard hops backward upon nearly walking into the smaller woman and she merely casts a disdainful and haughty look at him as if it is his fault that he was unaware of her sudden appearance.
It really shouldn't be this easy for an 11 year old boy with 1 working eye to get away from his parents, but he does it. And Quinn does it too well by now, he's had a while to perfect the art. He moves along quietly looking like the results of a Pirate and a Gypsy who decided to get together and reproduce...and he's quite busy. Slung in front of him like a baby carrier is something all wrapped up like a baby and he has a couple of parchments under one arm, his wand tucked away somewhere and of course his satchel which has been stuffed with nobody really knows what slung from his other arm as he sighs and continues on his way. But he has to stop abbruptly when he sees all the blue sparkles and then the flashing and his eyes widen a bit. "...well blazin' footsies, what the..." BlinkBLINK.
Very few people could ignore the kind of entrance Astra has made, and Martin is certainly not one of them. While squinting at the theatrics his adopted mother so enjoys, a smile spreads across Martin's lips--the first genuine one that's showed up for the last few days. He pads up towards Astra and offers the middle aged wizard who nearly ran into her a similar look of disdain. Clearing his throat, he reprimands the gentleman in his 'Ministry voice' "You should be more careful. Someone's apt to get hurt if /you/ don't pay attention." Like it's the other guy's fault. Then redirecting his attention to the headmistress, he smirks, "Astra."
Arching an eyebrow at the reprimand to the man Astra smirks in a smug fashion. "You'd best do to listen to your betters, /sir/." Gesturing with her hand in a wave of dismissal she turns her attention upon Martin in earnest. "Martin my boy! I didn't expect to run into you so soon." Holding out her hands to grab the young man's arms, she doesn't embrace him but rather she sizes him up and down. "It's simply been too long since I've seen you. For shame! You don't even bring the grandchildren to see me. Now that Seker and Satinka are grown it's difficult getting used to the silence." For all her "rebukes" there is a fond smile on her lips and from the looks of this woman that in itself is an uncommon occurrence. "How *is* the family?" Finally letting go of the taller man she tucks her hands behind her back and her stance suggests that she expects others to give them plenty of room. Even though she's paying most of her attention to Martin her eyes flick about as she constantly ch
ecks her surroundings.
Quinn Branigan looks between the two adults, back and forth and forth and back and back and forth before he awkwardly unrolls a piece of parchment and he gets his piece of charcoal and eyes them as he gets to sketching, half bent over and leaning against a wall for balance as he slowly slides down and seems to be doing a half head stand with his trying to draw and not drop anything.
Beaming, Martin straightens his posture, "Yes, I should stop by the school more often. But I admit between work and the children, life is quite busy these days." His eyes twinkle as she looks him over. "The children are good--they're as noisy as ever, and while it is distracting, it's beautiful noise. The temper tantrums and tears aren't so pleasant, but the giggles and laughter are." He shrugs, still clutching all of his file folders. "I'll bring them around soon. I promise." Chuckling, he nods about Seker and Satinka, "I can imagine life would be quiet without those two around. What are they doing these days, anyways?" Furtively, Martin glances around the area, and then his gaze catches Quinn--the kid from the other day with the 'Angelica Harrington' incident. And then his gaze turns from stealthy into an all-out stare.
"Satinka is trying to restore the family name to some semblance of "respectability" and Seker is, well, I'm not sure what he's doing. I think most days he's taking after Cedric and wasting the family resources." Astra stifles the mischievous grin, "I'm fairly sure he'll be doing something sooner or later. I'm of the mind he really ought to work as a serious artist or else start a shop here in Diagon where he can build his own violins. He'd be good at it and it's something he loves." Catching Martin's glance and then his outright stare she turns just as quickly to look at the child that has stolen the man's attention. "The children in Diagon get weirder every year." "Do you know him or something?"
Quinn Branigan just looks a bit frozen in place...he may be stuck as he falls over to the side, peering between his legs to continue sketching his picture before rolling it back up and shoving it back under his arm as he squirms and gets to his feet with an oof, careful of the baby like bundle held to his chest. It takes him a few to notice Martin staring and he adjusts his eye patch and smile brightly, making his way over rather quickly, free hand shoved into his satchel and rummaging around. "Mr Soft! I've been looking for you." He bows to Astra distractedly.
"I, uh, met him in a very unusual way the other day. Saphia tripped over him . . . and an . . ." Martin thinks better than to tell Astra the whole story ". . ./unnamed/ crazed witch reprimanded him for commenting on some young lady's bosom." He forces that same fake smile that he's been feeding Angelina all week. He attempts a fleeting shrug, "Just strange is all." He hears the boy call him Mr Soft, and immediately corrects, "It's Mister Rathe, actually. The soft-story was just to demonstrate why I shouldn't eat sweets--" He furrows his eyebrows, "Why are you looking for me?"
Looking from boy to man and making the circuit again Astra's gaze lands firmly on Martin as she narrows her eyes "Don't think I'm an idiot Martin, you know I can't stand poorly disguised lies. You'll be telling me the story, in full, later." The tone of voice is commanding and she doesn't think twice about how she addresses the auror before turning again to look at the strange child. "So boy, you seem to know my son." Gesturing with a wave to direct Quinn over to their place on the pavement, she addresses both casually "Do I even *want* to know?" "And just what is he," this to Martin, "a pirate or a gypsy or is he a Gypsy Pirate do you think?" There's a hint of a smile at the corners of her lips, but it is the merest suggestion of good humor.
Quinn Branigan shifts his weight from foot to foot and he smiles sweetly at Astra, ducking his head sheepishly and then looking back to Martin. "I'm sorry!" He chirps. "Mr. Rathe." He pulls the small loaf of bread wrapped up in pieces of an old shirt and he holds it out to Martin, his other hand resting on his baby bundle and petting it as he is almost squirming with excitement. "Now you can have sweets, here! It is some of my Granny's bread, it has a lot of fiber in it." He nods sagely and then squints at Astra. "I know your son? But you look too young ma'am to have a son, is it a baby?" Then he chuckles at the comment about gypsies and pirates, toeing the ground.
"Yes ma'am," Martin states knowing full well it's not worth arguing with Astra. "I'd say a Gypsy Pirate," he half-smiles. Turning a pale crimson, Martin accepts the loaf of bread (that probably weighs a pound or more), "I don't avoid sweets because my diet lacks fiber; it's my wife--" Shrugging, Martin drops it. Some things are better left unsaid. "Thank you for the bread," he concedes. "Tell me, did that strange woman--not the one with the bosoms that looked like the painting--do anything /unusual/ after I went back to work?"
Rolling her eyes in an exaggerated manner Astra waggles two fingers in the boy's direction. "I have two natural children that are adults and this one here who I adopted some, what now, ten years ago?" Pulling her hand back and crossing her arms over her chest she eyes the boy with a critical gaze. "Hrmph. Guess I should cut back on the potions if my own children, adopted or not, start looking /older/ than me." Glancing at Martin with a smirk, "I don't suppose you'll start halting your age anytime soon?" The discussion turns more *interesting* and instead of interrupting right away she falls silent to listen to the back and forth. Curious as to what's going on but wanting to satisfy her curiosity about something else she gestures offhandedly at Quinn. "No more babies for me - ever, but it would seem you have one of your own? Do Gypsy-Pirates buy babies on the street and drag them around?"
"Your /wife/ lacks fiber in 'er diet? That poor woman! Ahhh, maybe iffen ya put a bit of jam on the bread after slicing some for toast and feed it to 'er she won't be so cranky." Quinn likes to consider himself a genius. The heavy bread is taken and Quinn seems a bit relieved, shoving his parchments into his satchel before freezing at the question and tugging one back out. "Oh sir, oh goodness sir...um, can ye define /unusual/?" Then he's listening to Astra closely as he blinks several times. "Well, is it bad to say that you look too pretty to be a mummy? Me mum's a mum but she's uh, well she's special and I guess she's pretty but eh..." He just looks confused as he blinks some more, that one eye widening. "Me mum dropped me from a broom and put me eye out, but no. I dun tink they buy babies on the street." He unwraps his bundle with one hand to carefully expose the little soft grey rhesus monkey he's holding close to his chest. "This is Mittens."
"I like looking older. I'm hoping that someday my hair will go white and some Ministry intern will mistake me for someone wise. No one else would," Martin states matter-of-factly. He turns back to Quinn, "She's not cranky, she just wants us all healthy. . . in fact if anything, Angelina is the opposite of cranky. Most of the time, anyways." Everyone had their moments, right? "I have to define unusual? Did she have words with anyone? Or perhaps threaten anyone? Hurt someone? I would call any of these things unusual unless provoked." He shudders ever so slightly as he recalls the woman's manner.
Arching an eyebrow again at the man's last words and especially the shudder, Astra's taking in everything and storing it all up. Instead of asking about the possible altercation she smiles widely at Quinn and if allowed will actually pat him on the head in a fond fashion. "Martin, I like this one. Do you think I should add it to my collection?" Laughing softly as she draws back a step, she tilts her head and eyes Quinn with an appraising look. "Monkeys and Gypsy-Pirates wandering Diagon Alley. I knew there was a good reason for leaving Hogwarts today. Tell me boy, when do you start school? I'll certainly be keeping my eyes open for your arrival. You are, shall we say, interesting." "And I *do* so like *interesting* people."
Wow. This is interesting, Quinn's head cocks to the side much like a little bird and he squints that eye at Martin. "Hmm." Heads are patted and he chuckles with a waggle of his eyebrows. "M' 11 ma'am, so I start next term thingie I'm sure. I'm still gettin' me stuff, I've got me wand though!" He nods sagely. "I'm glad, I'd hate it if ye didn't like me." He sighs and then goes back to the serious topic, unrolling the parchment after tucking Mittens back against him and he holds it up for them to say. He's drawn with his charcoal a rather dramatic picture...there are 2 women and and a man, one of the women is...very well endowed and the other looks crazy with her hair sticking up all over her head and she's reaching out to pull the busty woman's hair and her mouth is open and there are sharp teeth and the busty woman's nose is turned up very high and she's crying and the man is off to the side with his hands on his hips. "This is what happened. She lost 'er mind, I'm sorry, she
went bonkers and M' not sure if she pulled the Pillow lady's 'air all our or not, but she was rather loud..."
"I think he could make a good addition to your ever-growing collection," Martin agrees stroking his chin. And then the picture is shown. Shock and awe. Martin's eyes widen ever so slightly, and the Auror inhales a deep breath. "Good lad. I can see you have /excellent/ documentation skills. This is very helpful. May I--borrow these?" he points to the pictures. "I promise I'll get them back to you, by owl if need be." He strokes his chin again.
Raising her eyebrows and looking at the picture with keen interest she turns to Martin, "People I know or just a random event that happened? You seem. . .perturbed by whatever did happen." Noting the man's reaction she chews on the inside of her cheek. "Boy, I'll want your name. Further, I think it will be in your best interest if you continue to take reports on whatever is going on in the Alley while you're here. Martin is a *very* good man to get to know." Running a hand through her hair she pulls on her ponytail as she thinks. "Martin, I think if there are things of gravity afoot you could use an extra pair of ears and. . ." smiling just a touch, "well an extra eye if nothing else." "Of course," turning to Quinn she addresses him again, "I'd expect you wouldn't speak of this to anyone as it'd be all very hush-hush. You know good spy work and all that. Think you're up for a bit of adventure?" Then realizing she's never given her name she tucks her hands behind her back, "I'
m Astra Rathe. Headmistress at Hogwarts."
Quinn Branigan is quiet for a few moments, eyeing Martin and whispering to his monkey then he nods firmly. "Oh, okay, yes sir...it isn't me best work though, you can't see the Bug Nutso woman's arm as well cuz the Pillow Lady's friends there get in the way..." He points a bit before blinking and handing the parchment over with a grin. "I'm Quinn Branigan." He thumbs the side of his nose and offers a hand all polite like. "Err, I tink this is where I say pleased ta meetcha." He opens his mouth and shuts it and opens it again as he listens. "Ooo, of course I'll keep lookin' at tings and be quiet about it." He almost bounces before he hears 'Headmistress at Hogwarts' and he flashes a sheepish smile. "...Doh, Um. Err. Whoa."
Shaking his head, Martin strokes his chin once again, "I only knew /one/. And that was because he helped me find some art at his shop. The man in the picture is Daniel Darian. The crazed woman claimed to be someone who she likely wasn't. And the other woman looked familiar, and I'm certain I've met her before, but I really didn't take much note of her--in all honesty she ignored me and was thus easy to overlook. Honestly, I left the group uneasy, but have only grown in my . . . uneasiness after doing some fact-checking." He bites his bottom lip and then nods at Quinn, "Thank you, Mister Branigan. This is helpful to me. And yes, I think it would helpful if you keep drawing and reporting on the goings-on. When I'm around people tend to behave, it's when I leave that they. . . interesting." He arches an eyebrow and tucks the parchment into his satchel.
"I couldn't agree more with Martin. Besides, however stupid it may be, adults tend to trust children more and say or do things around them they wouldn't dream of doing around other adults." A feral smile parts her lips and she shows the barest glint of teeth, "Let them underestimate you and brush you off as "just a child". It's more amusing that way anyway." The name Darian does cause a look of distress and Astra turns to the man with a suddenly worried air. "What in the name of Mordred's betrayal is *that* man getting up into *now*? Darian filth." Turning her head to spit first to her left and then to her right she allows a single shudder to pass through her frame. "His boy Tommy *doesn't seem* bad, but I don't trust the father." "Someone with that many smiles and that many manners has *got* to be hiding something." That or perhaps the woman's just insanely paranoid.
Quinn's eyebrows raise a fraction as he listens and looks between the two, submitting things to memory and continuing to look back and forth and forth and back and he finally nods firmly. "I'll do me best." He promises before adjusting his eye patch. "I'll 'ave to get some more parchment though." A pause. "And if the crazy lady comes again, I'll do me best but I might 'ave to hide." He sighs softly, submitting more things to his memory as he listens before he points at each adult in turn. "If either of ye need more of Granny's Rye of Regularity morning 'appy loaf, don't hesitate to call." He freezes like he just heard somebody call his name. "...I tink I 'ave to go..."
Martin Rathe notes the change in Astra's manner at the mention of Darian, "I don't /know/ what Darian's up to, but the company he's keeping is questionable at best." His lips curl down into a small frown, "It's far more complex than the event in Diagon Alley." "Mister Branigan, please watch out for strange happenings and pay particular attention to the man you drew in your picture." "If the crazy lady comes back, please contact me directly via owl."
"If you need more parchment and your family will not or cannot provide you with sufficient feel free to send a post to me and I'll make sure you have the supplies you need. I can't have our spy unable to fulfill his duties." Astra's smile returns briefly but it doesn't linger overlong. Nodding to Quinn as the boy explains his need to depart, "Of course, hopefully we'll see each other again before too long." Then turning to Martin, "Come by Hogwarts soon and fill me in on what's going on as you know it. Anything Darian is up to can't be good."
Quinn Branigan tilts his head to the side, unasked questions on his tongue but he just has to nod to show he understands. "Gotcha, nutter returns, owl. No more parchment and me da gets too nosy, owl." He ticks things off on his fingers. "I 'ope you both 'ave the best rest of time together!" He waggles his fingers and grins, adjusting his hold on his monkey baby bundle and the strap of his satchel and he turns on his heel smoothly and calls out as he departs. "Ta ta fer now!" Then takes off running.
"I will come by Hogwarts in the next week or so. I think I need to process all of this first," Martin bites his bottom lip. "It's not official Ministry business, you know. I just--have a feeling." "I best be getting home. Angelina will worry." He pastes the toothy grin he's been wearing for the last few days on his lips and takes a few steps on his journey before turning back and waving to his mother, "I'll see you soon. I promise." That said, he turns around and continues on his path: homeward bound.
Family: A Biological Imperative?
The bell connected to the door of The Pantheon Greek and Mediterranean Grill rings loudly, annoucing the arrival of Martin Rathe into the Vasili's Diagon Alley establishment. Smoothing, his robes, Martin seats himself at one of the many tables. The restaurant is bright--lined with windows allowing for much natural light, and a single light hangs over each of the individual tables. The dining room is brightly coloured with different hues of blue. One wall features a painting of the Mediterranean Sea. A tall, thin, dark-haired young woman, with a rather prominent nose, pads up to Martin. "Hello and welcome to The Pantheon. I will be your waitress today--" she begins and then she stops short, "--oh you're Martin, right? Uncle Niklos told us to keep an eye out for a half-Greek man with green eyes--unusual combination," she winks. "Yes, I'm Martin and I came to see Niklos--" Andronika interrupts quickly, "He wanted us to let him know when you arrived." She adds as an after thought
"I'm your cousin Andronika." That said, she pads out to retrieve Niklos.
Several moments after Andronika disappears into the back, a suited, dark skinned man walks into the dining room, offering Martin a broad grin. "Martin, my boy!" Niklos Vasili bellows loudly. As he marches up to Martin, slapping a hand on the Auror's back, Niklos seems all jovialty, "You came to see it finished, did you not? She is a beautiful restaurant, is she not?" He takes a seat across from the Auror. "I am glad you came. There is much to celebrate."
Martin Rathe forces a smile as Niklos enters the room. Nervously he drums his fingers on the table in front of him. "It certainly is . . . something," he mutters in response. "How's business? Booming? Seems pretty quiet right now." Furrowing his eyebrows he clears his throat and then adds, "I imagine business must be relatively good considering you did all of this work." He forces another smile, "So. . ." Unsure of what to say next, Martin just leans back in his chair and shrugs his shoulders fleetingly.
"Business is business," Niklos answers steadily. "I normally avoid discussing business with family unless they are explicitly involved in business practice," he frowns ever so slightly, but the frown is short-lived, it turns to a smile rather quickly, "Come now, we have known each other ten years and you still struggle to speak your mind. That is most strange to me. Vasili men tend to be brash and open about all things." And then he tacks on for good measure, "Except business." He forces a chuckle and runs a hand down his shoulder length near-black curly hair, "I generally pull it back when I work in the kitchen; it is very strange to feel it loose."
"So I won't tell you anything about my work and I hear nothing about yours? Seems like an alright trade," Martin quips. It's just as well that Niklos won't ask about Martin's work. The Auror leans back in his seat, but continues drumming his fingers on the table. "There's nothing on my mind. Just a case--but that would be work." He shrugs his shoulders fleetingly and then tries to change the topic, "So, what's your role in this family business venture? Are you . . . the business manager? Head of the wait staff? The cook?" He arches a single eyebrow as he fishes for information.
"I thought we were not discussing work?" Niklos counters with a slight chuckle. "I, like all Vasili men, am talented in the kitchen." He bows his head like this is greatly to his credit. "While I do not cook here on a daily basis and spend most of my time managing the kitchen, I am in charge of inventing new . . . culinary creations." He smiles. "You could cook too if you wanted, Martin. It runs through your veins." Glancing at the table Niklos frowns again, "Where are my manners?" Towards what can only be assumed as the kitchen, Niklos yells, "Andronika! Bring out a round of Ouzo for our guest and myself! Make it the best we have in stock!" Redirecting his attention to Martin he adds, "I only save this for important guests."
"Ah," is all Martin can muster. What did he expect? For Niklos to confess to being part of some crime family to his Auror-son? As the shots come out, Martin contemplates how to phrase his latest request. After downing his shot, he begins, "I actually . . . I actually came here to discuss something . . . particularly with you."
Accepting his shot and guzzling it back in one fluid motion, Niklos Vasili beams at his son. "I knew it! What exactly is on your mind? Do tell me." He smiles, revealing two rather deep dimples. Now it's his turn to drum his fingers on the table, his free hand reaches into his suit jacket to clutch his wand. Not looking away from Martin, the man waits expectantly.
"Well. . . I've been thinking. . ." slow and steady wins the race, Martin. Slow and steady. "I mean, it's not just me. . . but it's mostly me. . ." He gazes at the empty shot glass like it's the most interesting thing in the room. "I mean . . . Angelina had a bit of input in this . . ." A lie. ". . . but it's mostly me . . ." Martin runs his tongue over his lips. "I think. . . I think it might be best if you didn't visit the children for awhile." He meets Niklos' gaze, "I mean, you plan on returning to Cyprus in the near-future, right? Last time we talked you seemed to think your business in London was just to set-up shop, and from the looks of it, it's set up. It just doesn't seem wise to let them get too attached, and I think they need some time with their other grandfather--Dorian Whynn. . . I just don't want them to get too attached. . ." And Martin certainly doesn't want his children connected to a potential crime family. Pressing his lips together Martin waits for a r
esponse.
Minutes of silence fill the space between father and son as Niklos process what Martin has said. Niklos, has, of course, left his wand alone. Furrowing his eyebrows and allowing his lips to curl down into a small frown, Niklos strokes his chin, "If that is yours and Angelina's desire, I shall cease all contact with my grandchildren." Smiling ever so slightly he adds, "For now."
"You will, of course come to visit me still, will you not?" Niklos continues. "I came to England to spend some time with you, and help develop your loyalty to the family." Niklos's eyes gaze directly into Martin's. "Familial loyalty is far more important than any other bond. Your blood is my blood."
"Good. It's settled then. The children won't come with me when I visit, and I will visit." Martin bites his bottom lip following this. "I don't disagree about familial loyalty, however, I'm not entirely certain that family is imperatively biological. The Rathes, they are my family--" Glancing at his pocketwatch, the Auror stands to his feet, "I have to get going, Angelina's expecting me home and I didn't tell her I was coming here--" That said, Martin smoothes his robes and steadily walks out the door, his pulse racing.
A smile is given as Martin leaves. "We will see who has ultimate loyalty in the end. We will see," Niklos chuckles to himself as he watches Martin stroll down the street.
Sharing Pertinent Information
Feeling particularly fidgety today, Martin Rathe, can't get comfortable in his seat in the Daily Prophet's reception area. Every ten seconds he changes his position. Otherwise he looks mostly like himself--with the exception of the dark circles under his eyes--shadows caused by lack of sleep. In his hand he carries a file folder filled with information--not on Thomas Porter, of course, but he wants to ask Freddie about it anyways. But then, he's not the one who prompted this meeting. With a great sigh, he quirks an eyebrow questioningly at the receptionist, "You did remember to try to get his attention, right? He's expecting me--really, he is."
It has taken Freddie Wexler longer than he had planned to get away from his editor, and it is only now that he is more successfully managing to get at least out of the office. He walks backward down the little aisle way, nearly running into quite a few people as he makes his way toward reception. "Okay, okay - but you - no, you have to - yes, I'm pursuing a lead. I don't know if it's a scoop or not!" He gives an exasperated sigh as they come to a stop just outside of reception. "How about I let you know when you actually let me meet with the guy, okay?" Freddie finally manages to shake off his editor, who finds another reporter to hound, and the man turns his attention to reception. "Mr. Rathe?" he asks. "I'm sorry. My editor just wouldn't let me get away any sooner than this. Let's talk in my office." He beckons, then turns to make the relatively short trip back to his office, assuming that Martin will follow him.
Standing to his feet, the man quickly smoothes his robes. "Don't worry about it Mister Wexler," Martin offers a strained smile as he follows Freddie to his office. "I'm actually glad you got in touch. I assume this is about Thomas Porter, right?" He arches a single eyebrow--the manila folder is still in hand. Martin narrows his eyes, "Any leads?"
Once in his office, Freddie carefully closes the door behind him and takes a seat. "Well, in a manner of speaking, yes," he begins. "You see, I was at a family thing recently, and as it turns out, my in-laws once removed suspect that they may know who Thomas Porter is. It's my brother-in-law's first name, and... well, it was somebody's maiden name, but I got a bit confused on that point. At any rate, the style and the name really point to them that it may be their brother, Lindsay Fallon. He's been missing for... well, it must be about ten years now, and nobody's heard from him for almost that long." He pauses. "Anyway, why I'm telling you this is because they're very worried. If it /is/ him, I can't break this story. It would put my family in danger as well as everyone else's, and you have to understand - that's a lot of people! So, however this is handled, it has to be with the utmost care." He sighs and massages his temples gently.
"Fallon? As in. . . Professor Fallon?" Martin furrows his eyebrows. "So there's suspicion from his own family. That's a good lead. I'll do some checking and see if I can't find where Lindsay Fallon is from our records." He frowns and then adds, "How large a family?" Pressing his lips together he runs his fingers over his file folder and continues to frown. "I've been keeping my investigation quiet from most of my colleagues at the Ministry for a reason, and knowing that you can't exactly publish any of this without jeopardizing your own family . . ." He frowns again. "The name Vasili is particularly familiar to me. You see, I began investigating this case because I thought it was some elaborate hoax. . ."
"Oh, uh," Freddie replies, doing some calculations on his hands. "Well, okay. I have six kids with another on the way, and then my sister has nine. She's married to Tom Fallon. My brother Gilbert is married to Kalika Fallon, and they have four kids. Then there's my neice Briony who's married Gabe Goden, and Christine Brennan - she's Lindsay's sister - and her husband, and they adopted a little girl. So, let's see. Avery Fallon has her three kids, one of whom is married to my niece, who has three siblings, and then my other brothers as well. It's quite a /large/ family, you understand." Freddie's sense of humor seems to have returned to a certain degree. "At any rate, they're very worried - and I am, too - about what will happen if his identity comes out and there's some kind of retaliation."
"That's . . ." blinking Martin comes to realize the scope of the problem. "That's a lot of people. I understand the need to put in measures to protect them all--I'm willing to help, but I'm only me. . ." He leans back in his seat and rubs his temples and then sits up to meet Freddie's gaze. "I'd enlist more help, but officially there's nothing here to investigate." He frowns again, "But the more I investigate, the more I'm convinced it's not a hoax." His eyes narrow.
"That's news," at least, Freddie replies, corssing his arms over his chest. "We should be able to get some securities into place, but you'll keep us updated, right? Now what's this about this Vasili character? Is that something we should know about? The more information we have, the better." He pauses. "Between you and me, I'd rather not see so many stricken looks in one room /ever/ again, so if I can do something to put their minds at ease, I'm going to."
A nod is given to Freddie. "Right. The Vasilis." Martin frowns. "I suppose I need to start at the beginning." He swallows hard, "I lived my early childhood as an orphan in a Muggle orphanage--my mother had been a squib and had been rejected by her parents; she'd never married. Her parents--my grandparents, the Fosters--wanted nothing to do with me until my letter arrived for Hogwarts." Fighting to keep his tone even, Martin continues, "Regardless, in my sixth year, a man by the name of Niklos Vasili contacted me claiming to be my long lost father. My girlfriend and I visited him in Cyprus and have been in contact with him since. Shortly thereafter I was adopted graciously into the Rathe family so I never maintained close ties to my supposed Cypriate family." He frowns again and drums his fingers on the folder. "When Niklos and several of his brothers moved here to set up shop--just a Mediterranean food place--I thought nothing of it, particularly as he claimed that he wanted
to spend time with his biological son--his only son, and his biological grandchildren. . ." Martin shrugs, "It seemed normal enough. And then the articles began to appear. The first, I thought was merely prejudice against them, and with the second, I came here . . ." And then he opens the folder, "But then something happened the other day that has left me . . . puzzled. I was taking my daily walk in Diagon Alley when I ran into a school chum, Daniel Darian, and some client of Darian's. She mentioned Niklos." Martin looks at his feet, "Now wizarding London is small enough that often individuals share acquaintances, but when I pressed her for her name she called herself 'Angelica Harrington'. The problem is. . . Angelica Harrington was expelled and ran away from Hogwarts thirty five years ago. When I pulled up her file, I came to know immediately that the woman who labelled herself 'Angelica Harrington' was not the girl described in the file, and so I went to find a picture. .
. there was no photo in the file." He narrows his eyes again, "And when I went to contact her next of kin--in order to find a picture--they were all dead. Deceased. All of them." He frowns again, "I fear I've come onto something sinister without meaning to--"
"Well, that does sound a bit sinister to me," Freddie admit and chews on his finger for a moment. "So you can't find anything aobu this Angelica Harrington at all, either?" He pauses in thought for a moment. "I suppose I can try to dig up any articles we might have in the archives relating to the girl, but I can't make any promises. A run-away wasn't news thirty-five years ago any more than it is now." He looks genuinely perplexed. "Well, I guess we've hit an information wall at this point. I'll look about to see what I can dig up and I'll let you know straight away if I find anything. You /will/ let me know if you find out anything concrete about Lindsay Fallon, won't you?"
"I guarantee I will pass along /anything/ I know about Linsday Fallon," Martin shrugs. "Even if it's negative I'll pass it on, when it comes to familial safety, I fully understand its importance." Standing to his feet, Martin smoothes his robes. "Let me know if you learn anything of this Angelica Harrington. Her asking about Niklos was enough to surprise me and then combined with the discrepancy in the file. . ." He whistles and opens the door. "And if I know anything else I can share, I'll let you know as well . . ." That said, Martin disappears into the hallway.
Familial Speculation Regarding Lindsay Fallon
There, all better!" Kalika Fallon-Wexler declares, as she tucks one last curl behind Liberty's ear. "Now, go play with your cousins, and don't let Ranger near the cake--or your hair--again." With a sigh, Kalika pats her daughter's shoulder and sends her on her way. Walking back into the adult sitting room, Kalika rolls her eyes, "What are we going to do with that boy?" She shakes her head and clucks her tongue. "The other three listen marvelously, but not Lind-Ranger" Kalika corrects herself quickly, hoping no one notices her oversight, "--never Ranger--no, Ranger runs around doing his own thing, wandering off in crowded places, and assaulting his older sister with cake. At least he has enough good sense to stay away from Wren!" Exasperated, she plops down in a seat next to Gil and clutches her husband's hand.
Smirking at the fallout of this small disaster, Avery only shakes her head. "Well, he's hardly to blame. There are quite a few, er-- wild spirited men in the family he could have picked it up from." Her glance to Tommy is hardly subtle, though he's admittedly calmed down a great deal since his lively Hogwarts days. The calamity in the adjoining room is hard to hear over, and she wrinkles her nose a bit, not used to it anymore. Looking to Briony, she comments, "Ready for your own brood yet?" with a sarcastic laugh.
Shooting a sympathetic look to Kalika and smiles, leaning back. "Oooh, I'm stuffed," Eva comments with a sigh. "I really hope they're all behaving in there. Henrietta must be run off her feet." At Avery's very poorly disguised comment, Eva has to stifle a laugh, and she gives him a gentle squeeze. "Believe me, Kalika, you wait for the day that they're all gone at Hogwarts, and then count every day until they come back on holiday. I've missed my three hoodlum girls, and now Arnold's going in September, too." She sighs, but her attention is soon caught by the stricken look on Basil's face as Avery comments to Briony. Apparently the man has not come to the point of considering that his oldest child is old enough to have her own children.
Sitting behind her daughter and soothingly running a hand through Niamh's hair, Christine has been relatively quiet (as always) during this family get together. "He'll probably grow out of it, Kalika," she soothes with a sigh. "And Avery's right, Tommy grew up." She shoots her brother a smile. "Of course, the love of a good woman has that effect on a hoodlum, doesn't it?" She chuckles lightly as she continues to stroke Niamh's hair.
Rather horrified at the moment at the concept of children, Gabriel's mouth gapes as he exclaims, "Mother!" incredulously. He looks to Briony with one eyebrow perked and shakes his head slowly. "No, no," he says warningly, as if Briony had gotten any ideas about childbearing in the last few minutes. "How do you accomplish anything?" he asks Eva, tearing his gaze away from Briony. "I mean, I feel busy now. And all my charges have fur. And feathers. And no diapers!"
Niamh Brennan is flat-out overwhelmed. Having been to only a few such family gatherings, Niamh finds it hard to believe that all these people could actually be related to one another. They could form a small town! There could be a government! Civil wars, as she just witnessed! Niamh backs up unconsciously, closer to her mother behind her. Though she isn't intimidated, she's having trouble working out how exactly she'll fit in with all these children. It was hard to keep all their names straight. To Eva she asks, "Arnold? Starting Hogwarts in September, too?" Whether Eva hears is questionable; the girl doesn't speak very loudly.
Uhhh," Briony answers, just after Gabe's exclamation, her eyes widening. "No, I suppose not," the young woman answers with a laugh, reaching over to pat her father's knee. "Don't say no forever, Gabe," she warns him. "Who knows what could happen..." She grins her typical impish grin and smooths her ponytail. "Auntie Eva has help," she answers, though the question was not posed to her.
Mum!" Chance strides into the sitting room. "Ranger told Liberty you told him that he's encouragable. Now she thinks you and Dad /wanted/ Ranger to smother her hair with cake." He shrugs his shoulders as he eyes the adults. And then he feels. . . strangely self-conscious and his cheeks turn a faint crimson. "I told her you didn't say that, but she doesn't believe me so here I am asking. . ." He's almost beet red now. "I'm sorry for interrupting. . ." He eyes his cousin sitting on the floor, but doesn't address her, not while he thinks the adults may be watching.
More like Uncle Tom has help!" Tom corrects loudly, with a smile. "The children were raised off the sweat of my brow!" He ignores Gabriel's disgusted look at this, and laughs. "It gets easier once they're past... age six. Then, you can put them to work! I miss Char, she was the best kitchen sweeper I've ever known!" With a glance to Eva, he shrinks a little and adds, "Well, I miss her for other reasons, too!"
A loud guffaw follows the exchange between Briony and Gabe and Freddie Wexler slaps his knee with a loud laugh. At that moment, one of Freddie's own children comes running out of the other room, straight to his father, running very quickly from Joscelyn Fallon, one of Eva's daughters. "No, no, Cameron, go back to mummy," he tells the youngster, who reluctantly takes Joscelyn's hand and follows her back into the other room. Loud laughter and childish shrieks permeate the relative quiet of the room as the door swings open again, then dissipates as it closes behind the children. "You two don't know what you're missing," he tells to Gabe and Briony.
One day, Bri. One day in the /future/, we'll have a nice quiet daughter who never talks or cries or does anything bad." Gabriel grins almost falsely then, baring all of his front teeth. "Or, we could get a dog!" He nods rather wildly at this, once or twice, and leans forward to collect his plate and stands up to fetch another piece of cake. "Drink, Bri?" he asks over his shoulder.
I called him incorrigible, dear, not encourageable. . . while the words sound the same, they mean two very different things," Kalika sighs. And then turning to Avery and Christine, she nods, "He's just so . . . /mean/, but mostly to Liberty--occassionally to Wren, fortunately he's got an older brother who doesn't put up with his nonsense," She smiles at her eldest son. "I just don't know how mum and dad did it--" she cuts herself off. "--Anyways, we'll figure it out somehow, I hope." She sighs again and gives Gil's hand a squeeze.
Wincing a little, Avery nods knowingly. "I don't really know where... he... well, Kali,... Lindsay, he was, well, mean." There. It's been said. Lindsay. She falls silent after this, sliding back in her chair and focusing on her tea, quite intently. She looks to see a bit of a shadow cross Tommy's eyes, and fully expects to see similar looks in Kalika and Christine.
Oh, you act like I've done nothing!" Eva counters with a laugh, only raising her eyebrows slightly at Tom's comment. "None of ours have a particular mean streak that I've noticed," Eva comments to Kalika. "I suppose, though, my brothers were all pretty mean to Basil there when we were kids. You can ask him how he's turned out if you're uncertain as to how it will affect Liberty," she offers with a wink and a laugh. "Can we talk of nothing but our children now? We've become those boring parents that I always feared I would become!" Eva laughs good-naturedly at this and leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees.
Whatever you say, Gabe," Briony answers shockingly mildly to her husband, then holds her glass out to him as he offers her a drink. "Yes, please," she answers with a smile. At the reference to Lindsay, she leans forward. "Am I /finally/ old enough that someone will tell me what happened to Uncle Lindsay?" she asks the group, perhaps more forcefully than she had really intended.
Christine Brennan just looks at her daughter at the mention of Lindsay. The brother who no one's heard from since that day that Kalika announced her pregnancy with Chance; the brother they stopped talking about. Running her tongue over her lips she keeps stroking Niamh's hair, except now it seems to be the most interesting thing in the room to her. Inhaling a deep breath she finally manages, "When he left. . .did he. . . did he say anything about where he was going?" She swallows hard.
Tom merely kisses Eva's temple in response to her rebuttal. Of course she had done much for their children, and (hopefully) knew how he valued her for it. The mention of Lindsay catches him a little off-guard. Looking from Briony to Christine, he shifts, a little uncomfortably and looks to Avery. The woman is still obsessing over her tea, and looks as if she has no intention of replying even though she, too, was there. "Lindsay left some years ago..." he starts, looking now to Briony. "We were all together," he smirks suddenly, "with a few less kids,"... "And well, something made him angry and he left. Disappeared. He sent me an owl saying not to go looking for him. And then... nothing. We... haven't heard anything."
I'll let her know, mum." Glancing at Gabe and then Briony and then back again, Chance raises a single eyebrow at the pair. "So. . . mum says you're both my cousins. Like Briony is . . . Uncle Basil's daughter and Gabe is cousin Avery's daughter. . ." As Chance puts this together he sits on the floor near Gabe. "So Gabe. . . did you marry your cousin?" Clearly, Chance still hasn't grasped the concept of family or relation. And then he hears Lindsay's name mentioned. Lindsay: the unnamed uncle who wasn't. Realizing that things may become somewhat heated, Chance sits perfectly still: this would be a bad time to draw attention to oneself.
A few years ago, when I had little Dara Quincy as a student, she... well, she had a special gift. Clairvoyance I suppose... and future sight. She told me once that she saw a young man walking... looking fine, not happy, but not unhealthy. When she described him, it was Lindsay. It had to be," Avery mentions, finally losing interest in her tea. "This, like I said, was some time ago now. Probably five or six years. Who knows what he's been doing? It gave me hope though." It meant he was still alive, but she doesn't voice those words - there are kids around.
The tension in the room has increased dramatically in the last minute or so, and Freddie is not blind to it. He successfully ignores the noise of the children in the next room and leans forward. His reporter's nature is right on top of this and his curiosity is certainly piqued. "Interesting. And nobody knows why he left in the first place?"
It's not that simple, Christine." Kalika says quietly. "He was downright insulting at the time too. And I know Lindsay was never easy to get along with, but before he disappeared he'd gotten way worse. He had words with everyone at the table--" Kalika frowns, "And his goodbye that day was so . . . final." She releases Gil's hand, crosses her arms over her chest and leans back in her seat. "Like he knew he wouldn't be seeing us for a long time. That was over ten years ago . . . " She shrugs slightly.
Er, no," Briony answers to Chance. "Our families have, well, cross-married in spots, but we're not actually related at all when it comes to that. It's uh... really complicated without drawing a diagram, actually," Briony states with a laugh, reaching over to rumple the boy's hair. Quickly, her attention is turned back to the conversation at hand, however. She is silent for a moment. "Wait, this is what you wouldn't tell me until I was older?" she asks incredulously. "All that build-up for nothing..." She shoots a look to her father who gives a stern headshake in return, which still has the ability to quell Briony into mild submission. Well, for her.
It was... not a very good day, as I recall," Eva comments, her face slightly stony, remembering the comments that the man had for everyone involved. "It did have a very... final feeling. I can't believe he hasn't contacted /anyone/ in this time, either." Eva seems more angry on behalf of those directly related to him than anything else, but even so, angry.
Inhaling deeply, and still staring at Niamh's hair like it is the most interesting thing in the room, Christine quips, "Lindsay was difficult, but I can't imagine him being downright insulting. Not purposely, anyways." She bites her bottom lip. "I don't understand why he hasn't surfaced. I never thought he'd walk out on everyone despite his ills." She continues stroking Niamh's hair.
Hearing all of this interesting family drama has Niamh stirred up inside. Did things like this really happen? It all sounded like something from a book or something to her. "Maybe he has been contacting you," the girl pipes up suddenly. "Maybe he's sending you owls and they're being intercepted. Or maybe... maybe he's in your fireplace, but just catches you when you aren't home?" She'd seen a face in the fire before. It startled her at first, but after she was used to it, she quite liked it.
Chance Wexler smiles at Briony as she tossles his hair and then once again remains very still and VERY quiet. Yes, he thinks that if he's still enough his parents won't notice him and make him leave the room; the grown-up talk about his unknown uncle is far too interesting to pass up.
While she doubts exactly what Niamh has said, Avery is reminded of something interesting she saw just recently. "Do any of you read the Prophet?" she says, likely sounding a bit random to the others. "It's just..." is it worth mentioning? "I thought I saw something a little odd a little while ago."
Well /I/ don't understand why he left that job he loved so much. He was like you, Freddie--working for the Daily Prophet--and he loved /every/ minute of it. I'd be surprised if you hadn't met him. Lindsay wasn't exactly the kind of reporter who let the news come to him; he went and found it. A real go-getting kind of reporter. He was an editor's dream," Kalika reminisces. She turns at Avery's question and nods emphatically, "You mean about Thomas Porter? I found the name so curious--and the writing style so familiar. . ."
I do!" Freddie replies loudly, then blushes a little. "Well, obviously. And old Basil here used to be a columnist, too, so I'm sure he just loves to read it and critique how poorly things are cared for nowadays." The man's jokester nature hasn't dissipated with age. "Oh, you mean that column. You know, I had some man from the Ministry around to investigate that article. I don't know anything about it. I suppose he got in touch with my editor, but I haven't heard anything about it since. Whoever wrote it has real guts, though." Freddie nods solmenly then shrugs. "I just assumed he's been found and, erm, snuffed already, since we haven't had another article in a while."
That's a very good idea, Niamh," Eva tells the girl gently, shooting a worried look to Christine, and one to Tommy, though the woman says nothing. "Really?" she asks in response to her brother's admission regarding the Prophet. "I read that article. It was downright shocking. Surely Lindsay wouldn't be involved in anything like... like that."
I'm sorry, I don't read the Prophet very often as we're not around very often . . ." Christine states. "But yes, Niamh, it's entirely possible Lindsay has been trying to get a hold of us." Eva's reaction doesn't exactly instill confidence, "What exactly is in this column? What were these articles about? Surely Lindsay isn't involved in anything /illegal/ . . ."
Handing a fizzing pink drink to Briony, Gabriel sits down once more. He isn't an avid reader of the paper, no, but he does wonder now about that author. "Do you really think it could be just a pen name? He wrote something under your name, Tom?" he asks, looking to Tommy. "And Porter, your mum's maiden name?" He puzzles aloud. "Oh wait, /his/ father's name. And mother's maiden name." Nodding once, he takes a bite of cake. "I gueth it'h a commom mame," he says before completely swallowing. "But it is a bit suspicious."
Briony Wexler-Goden takes her drink and sips it, listening intently to the "grown-ups" as they talk about what may have happened to the infamous uncle whom the young woman has never actually met. "I thought it must be a hoax. I mean, if someone were really involved in something like that, surely there would be ramifications to divulging that much information?" She pauses. "Then again, it could be all those detective novels I used to read." She blushes slightly and sips her drink, not feeling like she's entirely qualified to take part in the conversation.
If this really is Linsday using a pen name, our family has reason to be concerned." Tom glances to Kalika and then to Chance, wondering if he should be here listening to this. Even Niamh, just a child. He continues despite this. "The reporter, Lindsay or not, is bold. He's looking to uncover a family's involvement in organized crime... and he implied that they're here in Britain. If this family, the Vasilis, find out who this reporter is..." he looks to Freddie with a nod. "Snuffed."
I dismissed it as a hoax too. . ." Kalika agrees with Briony ". . . but if the Ministry is interested. . . interested enough to send someone to the Prophet. . . there must be just enough truth--" She swallows hard and clasps Gil's hand.
Sniffing once, Avery sits tall in her chair and attempts to dispell this ominous mood. The children are probably getting frightened. "It's all speculation at this point," she notes. "Gabe's right. For all we know, Thomas Porter has nothing to do with us. I admit the writing style was... eerily similar to Linds'. But we can't jump to conclusions. We'll watch. Surely if it's really him, he'll make a more obvious clue in his next article... if there is one."
The guy promised me he'd give me a scoop if they have any information," Freddie divulges. "I don't know how serious he was being, but I'm going to follow up if I get word we've got a second article. If I find anything out..." he trails off. His meaning is fairly obvious. Even he's looking a bit nervous, even if these are mostly the inlaws of his siblings that are concerned in this.
What is in this article?" Christine inquires again, a little more assertively this time. "Who are the Vasilis? What is this reporter writing about?" She blinks hard several times. "Is this something we should be concerned about?" Pressing her lips together, her gaze turns from Kalika, to Eva, to Tommy, and to Avery and then back again. "Will someone just please explain--"
If it is him, and they find out, though," Eva starts, her face draining of color. "And if they find out about his family..." The terror on Eva's face speaks volumes, though it appears her voice fails her as she realizes the implication that this could possibly have. She looks at Tommy and clutches at his hand, her eyes darting frantically from photo to photo throughout their sitting room.
Squeezing Eva's hand, Tom looks her in the eye, trying to have some sort of affirming, or calming effect. At Christine's pleading though, he stands and leaves the room wordlessly, holding up one finger as he does. Several minutes later, he returns, a paper clipping in his hand. He gives this to his youngest sister and sits down once more, an arm across Eva's shoulders.
Freddie, you need to tell try to remember, what was the Ministry official's name?" Kalika blinks several times. "I know that a reporter never gives away a source, but we need to think of our family now. Please Freddie, try to remember. Were you sure the bloke was from the Ministry? Did he show any official piece of identification?" And now Kalika has become downright paranoid. "What kind of questions did he ask?" Trust Kalika to interview a reporter.
Freddie Wexler pauses for a moment in thought, though it doesn't appear to be very deep. "Martin... hmm. Martin Rathe, I think. That's not right, though, is it? I didn't think there was a Rathe named Martin." He pauses. "At any rate, I'm pretty sure he was from the Ministry. I don't remember if he had identification, but I can't imagine I would have been so stupid to tell him anything if he hadn't." This isn't very reassuring, Freddie knows, but it's the best he can do. "I can talk to our receptionist, Caroline, though. She'll remember better. She probably wouldn't have even let him talk to anyone unless she'd gotten some kind of confirmation."
Taking the clipping from her brother, Christine's eyes widen as her gaze runs across the text. "It can't be him--he wouldn't--" Clamping her mouth shut, she folds the clipping and places it in her lap. Taking another deep breath she shakes her head, "I don't believe it. Lindsay would never do something like that. He wouldn't dream of putting any of us in danger." And then she frowns, "Although. . . it might explain all of the owls I tried to send him--how Aurora could never find him when she took the messages. . ." She swallows hard. "I'd decided that he died of degenerative magical measels or some such illness. . ." She frowns. Somehow death was easier to take than a brother putting his entire family in danger by trying to expose a band of Dark Wizards.
There is a Rathe named Martin," Avery confirms. "Astra Rathe sort of took him under her wing. This was quite a few years ago, now, though," she adds, as if it were somehow important when it happened. "In any case, Freddie I wonder if you should try and get in touch with him again. Now that you... have these suspicions. He might have found out more information but is sitting on it for the time being. Who knows..." she trails off, biting her lip.
If this is true," Eva states, her voice wavering slightly, "I will..." She pauses, her eyes daring to Niamh and Chance again briefly. "Not do very nice things to that man. How could he put his nieces and nephews in danger like this? His own siblings?" The color has returned to Eva's face with a vengeance, and she now appears to be all red with a smattering of freckles from the neck up.
As uncle Tom hands off the article, Niamh scrambles up to ensure she has a good view of this clipping as well. What did this thing /say/? Something so important that it had even her most jovial relatives straight-faced and serious. She doesn't get a shot at it until her mother folds it up. When she does, Niamh attempts to slip the paper from her fingers, burning with curiosity.
Thank you, Freddie. Please get in touch with him," she sighs. "Is this bloke trustworthy, Avery? I can't imagine Astra allowing some random student to take on her lastname," Kalika frowns. She shifts her eyes left and then right. "Do you think this is /why/ he disappeared so long ago? To pursue some stupid lead?!" Kalika shakes her head. "Lindsay Fallon, when I get my hands on you--"
Admittedly, Chance has probably never seen his mother this angry. And it's freakishly unsettling. A glance is given to his only cousin in the room, but Chance dare not move. Moving now would only remind his very angry mother that he's hear, listening to things that he's probably not supposed to be hearing.
Briony Wexler-Goden glances to Gabe, then to her father and mother, looking quite concerned. The Wexlers and the Fallons in true danger? What about all of her cousins, and her second cousins? It wasn't like a family of this size could just go into hiding. The young woman keeps her mouth shut, however, attempting to take in as much as she can, perhaps to gain some ideas on how to keep herself and her family safe.
Nodding, Avery says, "He's a great kid. I only had him until year five, he didn't continue in Astronomy. But you're right, he's not any random kid. He was in Slytherin, I remember, and Astra treated him like a son long before she made it official. I think we could trust him if it ever came down to it," she notes with a nod.
We have to press the Ministry to find out more information." Eva pauses. "Do we dare tell them the suspicions you lot have had?" The woman chews on her lip a bit. "If it would keep us and our children safe, I think we almost /have/ to."
Unbeknownst to Christine, Niamh manages to slip the article away. Slowly massaging her temples, she stares into space. "There must be a way we can /actually/ protect our family. I know I'm not around a lot, but sitting and waiting for something to happen doesn't seem particularly useful or productive. Now I know us Brennans don't spend much time over here, but honestly, there must be something more we can do." She frowns at the notion of telling the Ministry, "The anti-muggle bastards at the Ministry couldn't help if they wanted to. Their hands are tied in bureaucratic tape."
Tom Fallon nods. "We have to. I suppose at worst we risk looking looking rather paranoid, but who could blame us? It's not as if we have /no/ evidence. We have a missing brother and a suspicious article. I think it warrants a closer look, at least some attention. Christine!" Tom is very surprised at this fervent outburst.
I'll send an owl to that chap Martin first thing in the morning, how about that?" Freddie suggests. It's killing him to see his little sister so worked up, and with the others in the room experiencing similar reactions to the possibility that it may be his in-law once removed (which is how he thinks of the Fallons in relation to his own family), and while he knows it may be futile, the man figures he's got to try to help however he can. "Don't anyone get too worried until I find out what I can from this man." He pauses. "But if I do talk to him, I'll have to tell him your suspicions. Can we agree that it's possible that Thomas Porter may be Lindsay Fallon?"
I wouldn't call the entire Ministry anti-muggle, and if Astra's boy is one of the good ones, I say we keep him in the loop. Besides Christine, Dad worked for the Ministry, and so does Gil--neither of whom are anti-muggle or. . . the b-word you just used." Kalika nods that this is a good place to start. "I think you and Tommy are right though, we need to proceed with caution."
As she finally frees the paper clipping from her mother, Niamh reads it over quickly, and then once again. She doesn't really understand it, except that the first bit sounded quite scary. These bad people could be anyone? This was real, she realizes with a bit of shock. She'd seen her mother worked up before, though not often, and it was never while she knew Niamh was watching. She folds up the article as her mother did and replaces it, as she looks to Chance with wide eyes.
Looking to Freddie, Avery nods. "That's how it stands. State that we all have some suspicion that this Thomas Porter may be our Lindsay. Thanks, Freddie. I guess you're "it" while we wait for another article," she says with a bit of a wince.
Chance Wexler nods at his cousin with equally wide eyes. This is serious, and all of the adults are treating it as such. And then, with the silent seriousness, came a sudden shriek from the other room, followed by Ranger running in holding something in his hand, cackling all the while, "It's mine now! Finders keepers, losers weepers!" The eight year old is grasping /Parker's/ wand. "I won it fair and square in a du-al!" He smirks, and then he realizes that he's standing in the middle of a room full of adults--all of whom his mother would allow to punish him.
I'll let you all know as soon as I find anything out. I can't say there will be anything /to/ find out, though. No promises." Freddie Wexler just finishes his statement when a loud group of children bust through the door. "Hey, hey, hey," he calls loudly, grabbing Parker by the waist as he tears through after Ranger. "MY WAND, IT'S MY WAND!" the boy shouts, grabbing at his smaller cousin. "DAD, MAKE HIM GIVE BACK MY WAND!" Freddie doesn't dare let go of his rambunctious son long enough to try to grab the culprit.
As forebodingly as he can muster, Tom stands up with two great stomps and draws out his want. Brows furrowed, Tom Fallon growls as he glares at little Ranger. "Wand stealing, is that what I hear?" he asks in a booming, unnaturally growly voice! "Why I oughtta...!"
Watching as the young boy runs madcap through the room, keeping away from Tommy, Briony casually slides down in her seat and sticks her leg out. It makes it out in front of the boy at just the right moment, tripping him so that he falls over. Basil takes his opportunity to grab the offender and pry the wand out of his hand, returning it to his nephew, the wand's rightful owner, before returning the boy to Gilbert.
Ranger Marley Wexler!" Kalika's voice is full of warning, "I am /very/ disappointed in you. Just you wait until we get home--" She glances at the rest of the family and raises a fleeting hand. Gil responds, "I suppose that's our cue." Kalika calls to the other room, "Liberty, Wren, Chance--" And it's at this moment that Kalika realizes Chance has been listening the whole time. Wide-eyed, she grabs Chance's arm. "We best be off," she chatters as Liberty and Wren appear--quite unaware of why their mother is in such a frenzy. As Kalika steps outside with Chance and Ranger, Liberty sidles up to her dad, "What's wrong with mum?" "Don't you worry about your mother, sweetheart, that's my job," Gil smiles at his daughter and beckons both Liberty and Wren out the door. Before leaving he offers one last wave, "We should do this more often--all of us, I mean." That said, the Fallon-Wexlers disappear into the night.
I suppose I should round up my brood and give Henri a break," Freddie admits with a sigh. Being a reporter, he naturally loves the drama and the dynamics of an evening such as this, but of course he knows he must tend to family and children who are likely too tired to function for much longer and too wound up to go to bed. Still carrying Parker by the waist, the man raises a hand in a wave to his family and strides toward the back of the house. "I'll let you know as soon as I find anything out," he tells them all and disappears into the throng of children.
Christine Brennan's husband Ryan has been eerily quiet during this whole conversation, but now that it's time to leave, he's the one that takes charge, "Niamh, Christine, we best call it a night as well." Offering his ladies a smile, he reaches out a hand to help Christine up, and then one to Niamh. Once both of the ladies are up, he steps outside the door and waits for them to say their goodbyes. With a smile, Christine waves to her family, "It was nice seeing all of you. Niamh, say goodnight to everyone."
As people begin to depart, Gabriel looks to Briony with something of a meaningful gaze, as if to convey that they have reason to be worried, but he'd rather not be for now. All he says right off is, "Well, shall we?" as he offers his hand. The couple depart as well, following their family members out.
Goodnight!" Niamh calls to the remaining family. If nothing else tonight, she learned that this family was pure intrigue. And oddly, feels closer to Chance somehow, even though they exchanged no words. She follows her parents out, more excited than scared.
With a ragged sigh, Eva watches as the various families take their leave, either by floo or aparation. "It's been quite a night," She comments to Tommy without really expecting a response, then stands up and stretches a bit. Her maternal instincts are possibly stronger at this moment than they have been in quite some time, and the woman, once all the guests have departed, wanders into the back of the house where all the children have been playing, intent on spending even a few moments with them before the inevitable bedtime.
Collision in Diagon Alley
"Oof, excuse me. Sorry. Pardon me." A large stack of boxes comes from the north-west end of Diagon Alley, issuing a series of apologies as it rapidly weaves through the midday hustle and bustle on Diagon Alley. "Terribly apologetic. Excuse me. Take your hand off me. Thank you!" Weaving past a tremendously inappropriate old wizard, Saphia picks up her step to transport the stack of pastries and collides suddenly with someone. "Oof!"
Sneaking out seemed like a wonderful idea, it really did. When your Mum and Dad are saying horribly mushy things over a pile a pumpkin pasties and the cat keeps drinking /your/ milk, sneaking out is the best idea one can get. Tucking his wand away into his sash, tying his scarf on and making sure his eye-patch is in place, Quinn finds himself attempting to be sneaky as he moves along quietly with his hood drawn up and he's not exactly looking where he's going. This is why he looks up from where he was fidgeting with something sticky and sweet to see a big person and his eyes widen before WHAM, and then that OOF! He's knocked over onto his backside with a very eloquent, "WAGHBLAHGK." And then a groan.
Picking his way out of Knockturn Alley and brushing off the blue coat as if just travelling in the slum was enough to make it filthy Daniel enters into the midday rush of Diagon Alley. The press of foot traffic is one he usually makes all attempts at avoiding, however, today seems rather more crowded and busy to his eyes. Aware of his surroundings he keeps a watchful eye on the crowds even as he masterfully navigates his way through them. Smiling to a few faces in passing that he knows, stopping a moment to say hello to another shopkeep or a patron that he happens to know he continues on his path uninterrupted. However, it is not many feet in front of him that he witnesses a collision between the two pedestrians.
Almost without thinking about it, Morgana brushes down the front of her robes as she spies Saphia running headlong into some child, and she shakes her head at the other young woman with an arrogant shake of her head. She clutches the opaque, but apparently quite heavy, shopping back closer to her body, however, and resumes her study of a nearby store window. The magical menagerie doesn't hold her attention for all that long, not when there are more interesting people about, and almost like a magnet her head swings around to face Daniel. There's a very brief moment that her cheeks colour as she makes eye contact, and she looks away very suddenly to gather herself, before she wanders over towards him with a much more composed and unemotional expression.
"Caz--!" Saphia gets off half of her first word before biting her tongue as the boxes go flying. As they fly away, though, she sees the young boy she's knocked over and suddenly switches from annoyed to concerned. "Goodness! Are you all right? I'm ever so sorry. Are you hurt?" She draws her wand and, almost as an afterthought, recites, "Ostendo." The boxes suddenly fly in reverse, falling pastries flying back into boxes and boxes into Saphia's arms. This time, she carefully puts the boxes down and tends to the boy, looking for scratches or bruises or worse.
Quinn Branigan looks a bit confused for a moment, hand flying up to adjust his eye-patch to make sure everything is in place before he watches the woman waves her wand and he looks to his own tucked in his sash then looks back to the woman. "Eh, m'sorry ma'am." He manages to blur out in his lilting Irish accent. He looks a bit sheepish too, shoulders hunching up as he holds out his arms to make sure he's not scratches. "Me mum dropped me off a broom when I was a wee babe, so dunnae be worried miss, m' a tough lil' ting." He flashes a charming little smile and works on scrabbling up to his feet.
Seeing the commotion there is only one thing for a gentleman such as Daniel to do and that's to step up and make sure all is well with both parties. Having observed the quick action of Saphia he nods his approval, but he pulls out his wand from the cuff of his coat all the same. The click of his shoes against the pavement announces his arrival before the prepared words part from his mouth. "My word that was a nasty tumble you took child." Plum eyes survey the youth before regarding the young witch with a concerned expression. "Are you both all right?" Tucking the wand away, he seems on the verge of saying something but changes his mind at the last minute. "Shall I fetch someone to help the both of you?"
Stopping a few steps back from where Daniel is talking to Saphia and Quinn, Morgana remains curiously silent as he speaks to them. Of course, her polite silence does not stop her from eying Saphia in a rather supercilious manner, her arms now folding across her chest and her shopping bag hanging in front of her; her expression clearly reads, silently, 'I judge you for not watching where you were going'.
Martin Rathe is taking a break from his current case, and is thus on his daily walk, away from the raucous and noise of the Ministry and into the noisier streets of Diagon Alley. With a frown playing on his lips, and his eyes narrowed, he knows he's not making progress today. He turns the corner to see Saphia and Daniel hovering over a child. Quickening his stride, he puts on the widest grin he can muster, "Miss Bona, do you require assistance?"
"I quite assure you I am perfectly well, Mr. Darien. And yourself?" Quite swept up in the events before her, Saphia does not yet even notice Morgana. As Martin enters, Saphia notes, "Well, I won't be if I keep talking. I have a room full of reporters waiting for these. Oh, heavens, I hope I got them all right." A moments loss of concentration, and she leans over to help Quinn up to his feet. "You seem to be fine. What's your name? Are your parents about?"
If Quinn was an animagus, he'd back a lovely fish right about now, mouth opening and closing and opening and closing and opening and...closing as he looks from adult to adult and he scratches his head. "Ummm, m'Quinnthankyekindlysirma'am." Then he stares as Martin approaches and his gaze flicks over to take in others who might be about before he coughs. "Oh no, my parents are busy chattin' about the baby sister me mum saw in her pumpkin pastie." A pause. "M' really sorry for gettin' in the way."
Stepping back as the auror arrives Daniel graces everyone involved with a smile. "I'm glad to see there was no serious injury." Nodding to Martin, "Mister Foster" he gives the man a short but polite greeting before speaking to Saphia. "I'm well enough, but I wish we had met again under less trying circumstances. If you're sure everything is fine I suppose I ought to excuse myself." The incident is of no lasting interest and so he is in the process of turning around to head off again. However, as always he manages to gauge the crowds and in doing so notices Morgana close at hand. Pretending to see nothing he simply turns back to the trio. "Unless you're certain there's nothing you need?" "Perhaps you could use some assistance in your delivery?"
A nod is given to Saphia about the pastries. "I can imagine, my days as an intern at the Ministry were full of equally wonderful tasks." He offers an almost genuine smile. "Are you okay, lad?" he asks Quinn as an afterthought. "Nothing broken, I hope," now his lopsided grin is genuine, and then he adds with a twinkle in his eye and a quirk of his eyebrow, "She saw a baby sister in her pumpkin pastie? Now that sounds like an interesting story." Redirecting his attention to Daniel, he nods in greeting, "It's Rathe, actually, Mister Darian. Although I admit, I may have introduced myself as Foster--it's all very confusing, even to myself." He grins again.
It could not be plainer to Morgana, with her astute awareness of what Daniel is doing, that she has been deliberately overlooked, and her eyebrows narrow as she glares icily at Daniel's turned head. Her arms cross all the more tightly and defensively, and she steps forward to include herself more overtly; "Child, I am quite sure that Miss Bona will accept her fault in this matter immediately," she offers smoothly, her icy stare drifting from Daniel to Saphia as she speaks, and a smile curling about her lips. "After all, she has a history of getting into situations she ought to have no part in." Martin is ignored entirely.
A nod is given to Saphia about the pastries. "I can imagine, my days as an intern at the Ministry were full of equally wonderful tasks." He offers an almost genuine smile. "Are you okay, lad?" Martin asks Quinn as an afterthought. "Nothing broken, I hope," now his lopsided grin is genuine, and then he adds with a twinkle in his eye and a quirk of his eyebrow, "She saw a baby sister in her pumpkin pastie? Now that sounds like an interesting story." Redirecting his attention to Daniel, he nods in greeting, "It's Rathe, actually, Mister Darian. Although I admit, I may have introduced myself as Foster--it's all very confusing, even to myself." He grins again.
Saphia looks about as everything seems to be resolved, and finally makes a decision. Picking up the boxes, she remarks "Here. There's so many they won't even notice." She flips open the top box with her nose (her hands being other engaged holding them) and then offers, "Here. Have one each. You too, Quinn. Mr. Foster, Mr. Darien."
Bursting with information and delighted to be out and about in the middle of the day, Angelica DeWitt, looking very unlike herself (tall, brown-eyed, dark skinned, and black haired) approaches the group. "Ah greetings Mister Darian!" Angelica's only identifier is her very distinct, Angelica walk. Old habits die hard. "I was just on my way to your shop to discuss some business! I need big antique dresser. BIG." She shoots a quick glare at Morgana, "DeWitt, right? I knew your mother. . . very . . . very . . very well." She offers her daughter a sinister smile. "And who are these friends?" an eyebrow is arched at Saphia in particular, and then the other is arched at Martin.
Quinn Branigan thumbs the side of his nose and shrugs a shoulder as he opens his mouth to reply to somebody, instead he has to stare at Morgana and gasp softly. And then...being a child, he blurts out as he stares at her chest for a moment and then looks back up. "Me Uncle Django 'as a portrait who looks like you kinda, but Auntie Melodie beat 'im with a broom til he threw it out...she was only wearing a piece of sheet..." He trails off and makes an 'ick' face and a retching noise before nodding to Martin "Nothing broken..." Then he looks back to Morgana. "But you don't look like 'er exactly so...that's probably a good thing." Then back to the woman who ran him over. "Oh! Gee, thanks!" He reaches for his pastry and smiles at everybody who has gathered around, because he's not quite sure what to say now. "I'm Quinn!" He adjusts his eyepatch. Yep. That's his name.
Feeling the name out over his tongue as he again smiles "Rathe then sir. Please do forgive me." Daniel's reaction is pleasant but not overtly pandering it is merely one who recognizes the family's name. It is something to consider though and this new puzzle leaves him curious. "I wasn't aware that the Rathe had a son your age." After all, Astra never bothered to announce that particular adoption in the society papers or anywhere else. "I must be slipping if things like this pass me by." Chatting pleasantly enough until Morgana drifts in and Dan actually steps to one side to make sure there's room between them. "Miss DeWitt. How *good* to see you again." The lie slips from his tongue with great ease. Even his bearing wouldn't suggest his discomfort over the young woman's appearance, but his eyes don't seem as happy as they were. There is absolutely no time to think, much less to accept a pastry when he hears what comes from Quinn's mouth. Drawing a handkerchief out from the sl
eeve that doesn't shelter his wand the man begins to cough into it and his eyes begin to water. Once the fit has passed, and it doesn't take too long, Dan again tucks away the cloth. "Very sorry about that. It is good to see you again dear!" This last is addressed to the strange woman who has just arrived.
The problem with so closely resembling her family is that Morgana has little recourse when she is identified - she can't very well lie, anyone who knows her mother even slightly would recognise her as part of the family. Before she can form any response, affirmative or not, to Angelica's question... Quinn speaks. For possibly the first time ever in her life, Morgana is both stunned out of speaking and, apparently, quite embarassed about the assets to which Quinn is so blatantly referring; her arms cross over her bust awkwardly and her hands tuck under her armpits, her shopping bag dangling from her wrist awkwardly. She mutters something under her breath about the child, her eyes narrowing all the more sharply at him. Any sympathy for his situation born out of her dislike for Saphia vanishes extremely rapidly. Daniel is ignored as well, and while her manner could suggest quite easily that she is deliberately ignoring him out of her annoyance, it is possible he has just been ov
erlooked in her general anger.
Passing on the pastry, Martin shrugs, "Angelina would come after me if she knew I found out I ate sweets in the middle of the day--something about me staying in shape and not getting soft in the middle. My wife, she worries. I think she secretly believes that if some Dark Wizards tries to use one of the unforgiveables on me that I can outrun it, but I don't think anyone's that fast." He chuckles lightly. "But thank you, Miss Bona, that's very kind." Redirecting his attention to Daniel he nods, "I was adopted later in life; I wasn't born a Rathe. I was born a Foster, and lived as such for many years before the Rathes so graciously adopted me," he offers a pleasant smile. His attention is then directed at the strange woman who's made an appearance to whom he just arches an eyebrow and states his name, "Martin Rathe. . ."
Saphia smiles to the woman just arrived and notes, "We really need to catch up sometime, Martin. The Yule Club does NOT end at Hogwarts!" Smiling at everyone, she begins to try and pull herself away from the group and back to her important delivery task.
"I'm sure you are very sorry. Especially in company of lovely young lady," Angelica hisses the second sentence as she motions towards Morgana. "But is good day to take long walk outside with one's sweetheart, is it not?" She tilts her head and narrows her eyes warningly. Eyes are then narrowed at Quinn, "Learn to hold your tongue child. Just because a woman is well endowed and has much to offer any man, doesn't mean you should draw attention to it." And then, remembering that her English is just a little too good, she resumes her role. Eyeing Martin up and down Angelica smiles flirtaciously, "Pastry wouldn't do you poorly, Mister Rathe. You are fine specimen: curly dark hair, green eyes, not something to be scoffed at. You have Mediterranean ancestry? I bet wife more afraid of competition than soft middle. Besides /no one/ outruns well cast unforgivable--"
Did he say something wrong? Quinn nibbles at his pastry with a wide eye (it would be eyes but one is covered with his patch) and an innocent expression on his face as sways in place a bit and mms softly as he peers at his pastry and continues to nibble. He eyes Morgana thoughtfully and then over to Daniel and oh look, there's another woman! Scolding him. "...what does she 'ave to offer? She's I suppose a pretty lady and one bangin' pillow I suppose when she decides to 'ave wee ones but I was just tryna be nice..." His head tilts to the side curiously. He leans to the side a bit to wave to Saphia and then he straightens back up quickly to nibble at his pastry and wave to Martin and Daniel. "I've never been allowed to 'ave sweets before. Me Granny told me pa..." He clears his throat and does his best old lady voice. "Branigaaaaen, is one ting to feed me gal sweets to keep 'er off the top of de wagon, but I won't 'ave two men who can't walk beside it because they 'ave lard ar-"
He makes a face, clearing his throat. "And then me da slapped his hands over my ears and I missed the rest but this tastes better than her bread!" He chirps happily before peering at Martin. "/Is/ your middle soft?" He takes another bite of his pastry, OMNOMNOMNOM. This Angelica woman though worries him, eyebrows shooting up as he steps carefully to the side, is he trying to hide behind either Daniel or Martin? It is hard to tell.
"Yule club?" Daniel is completely out of that particular loop and though the question is spoken aloud it's more out of wonder than expecting an actual answer. Any further indication of curiosity is squashed flat as the polyjuiced woman speaks out. "No ma'am it isn't anything of the sort." Raising both hands in protestation he looks /almost/ like he did the day of the attack but perhaps not quite that terrified. "She is merely an acquaintance. I assure you, I have no interest in the young la"but the rest of his thoughts are cut quite short by Quinn's observations. A wide and mischievous smile parts the man's lips and he seems very *pleased* with the child's gumption. "You remind me of someone I knew a very long time ago lad." It actually takes quite a bit of will power not to tousle the boy's hair, but he manages to keep himself still. "As I was saying, Miss DeWitt and I are merely passing friends and certainly nothing more. I'm far too old." Turning back to Saphia, he's all s
miles "Thank you so much for the offer of the pastry and though I do love sweets very much, I'm afraid I don't have the stomach for them at the moment. My silence wasn't meant to be rude."
Although Quinn and Angelica's discussion of her endowment colours Morgana's cheeks pink with emotion, she stares resolutely ahead and does not get involved in the discussion until she is quite sure that Quinn has finished talking. Eventually, once the child is silent, she gets herself together enough to mumble, "With one's sweetheart?" in echo of Angelica's words, glancing over at her disguised mother briefly. Her eyes flicker to Daniel, and then to Martin, without apparent awareness of what the woman means. "I imagine it is a very fine day for that; however, the man I am seeing is presently at work and does not Do the pleasant walking thing." There's a touch of defensiveness - no, once Daniel speaks, it definitely becomes a LOT of defensiveness - in her voice as she speaks, and once she has herself under control, she seems to be getting haughtier by the moment.
"Indeed, Miss Bona! It would be great to catch up and hear everything you're working on these days! We have four little ones now--lots going on I'm afraid. Little Austin mimicks everything I do, so I watch myself more than ever, but that's what it means to have children around." Martin flushes involuntarily at Angelica's observations and absentmindedly twists his wedding ring back and forth on his finger as if trying to draw attention to it. Female attention always made him slightly unhinged, and not really knowing how else to respond, he nods about his ancestry, "Yes, I'm Cypriate on my father's side. . ." Relieved, he turns to face Quinn again, and chuckles "Well it's not soft /yet/. In fact, at this moment it's quite the opposite, I just think she'd like to keep it that way." He grins and continues to fidget with his wedding ring.
"I'll hold you to that! I can't wait to meet your children!" Saphia smiles over the top of the boxes, and hurries away.
An eyebrow is arched at Quinn, "Most ladies don't like attention drawn to bosoms." Interesting use of the word most, Angelica. "You remember your age at all times Mister Darian," she warns narrowing her eyes, "Especially with young ladies. And that goes for you, young lady, stop keeping such. . . company." Tightening her jaw, Angelica is struggling to maintain her role. "Cypriate, you say? I met a nice Cypriate the other day--" Her eyes flicker with delight. "--Niklos V--sorry lastname escapes me." She shrugs.
Quinn Branigan looks down to his own chest and oh how the underexposure shows as he ooooohs softly and he puffs out his chest a bit as he eyes Morgana. "Take ye best shot, talk away ma'am, I'm so sorry, ye can tell me I 'ave the bosom of a farting ferret, I swear, I won't even retort even once." And he does seem very sorry, nodding distractedly to Quinn and Martin, he's apologizing though so he's distracted. He asks of Daniel. "Who?" Then to Martin he offers. "Well then, good." But mostly he looks between Angelica and Morgana and his apology. "M' sorry!" He sneaks in a bite of pastry right here.
Murmuring, Daniel dismisses the woman's concern by saying "Trust me ma'am I am not the least bit interested in pretty things in the manner you suggest." Anyone who wants to can probably make out what he says, but he quickly recovers. "It wouldn't be seemly in any sense of the word to go trying to playing sweetheart to someone so much younger than myself." Distracted, he seems more interested in what the stranger has to say to Martin than anything else. Listening in for the duration he finally shakes himself out of his reverie before gracing the boy with another smile. "A lad I knew back in my school days. He died young, but that's another story." And one the man clearly has no interest in telling as he looks away to steal a glance at the strange woman.
"Niklos you say?" Martin furrows his eyebrows. There's just something a bit strange about this chance meeting. Everything about it is strange, but Martin takes the bait. "Niklos Vasili, perhaps?" Beat. "I'm acquainted with him." That said, his features turn mildly cold. Taking a step back, he hisses, "I missed your /name/, madam." He defiantly crosses his arms over his chest and stares at the woman.
"Is it relevant what COMPANY I keep?" Morgana shoots back rather more aggressively than, perhaps, she intended. She takes a deep breath, following it up by adding, making as firm eye contact as she can manage with Angelica, "I encountered this man by chance in public, it was not an arranged event. Even if it was, or even if it were... romantic, I cannot see why it would be your business." There's a waver in her voice, just slightly, as she studies the woman very carefully - less for features, and more for mannerisms and tones. Then, quietly, "And you can tell my mother that, too. If you like. Ma'am."
"Don't do it again, lad. Ever. If you do I will hear about it. I promise." A sinister smile spreads over the woman's face. "Harrington," Angelica chimes. "Angelica Harrington. That's what my family calls me." She offers the warmest smile she can muster, although admittedly Angelica isn't known for her warmth. "And /how/ do you know Niklos?" She tilts her head questioningly. An eyebrow is arched again and the woman glances knowingly at Daniel. And then eyes are rolled at Morgana, "Company kept is always relevant my dear. I'm sure Mummy would agree." Her eyes twinkle.
Quinn Branigan actually looks a bit sad as he nods slowly to Daniel. "M' sorry about yer friend." And he means it before looking back to the women and sighing softly. He will never understand the opposite sex, now they seem a bit worked up! And Mr Martin Soft-Gut is all upset too and...wow. His pastry is almost gone. He stares at the sweet sadly and whispers to it softly before taking another tiny bite. He does stage whisper. "I got my wand!" Because everybody needs to know this.
Again an eyebrow is arched at the woman. "Are you with the press or something? I don't talk to the press." Martin backs up and turns around. "I never talk to the press." That said, Martin gives a nod farewell to the group. "I should be getting to work--" He makes a quick b-line to the office.
"I don't /care/ if Mummy agrees," Morgana replies, forcing as bright a smile as she can manage. Then, in a softer voice, "You are speaking to me as if I am the same age as this child," she waves a hand vaguely towards Quinn, though she doesn't look directly at him. "In fact, I am old enough to make my own decisions about the company I choose to keep... and if my mother has a problem with that, perhaps she should have thought about that before she went abroad when I was sixteen." A pause, and then, "What would you do if I was involved with him? Tell my mother? Ground me?" A pause, and then, "Rafe sends his regards; he says he hasn't spoken to you since you came back into the country."
Very curious indeed to what plays out Dan instead feigns sudden disinterest as he hears the boy's proclamation. "Do you now?" Seeming far more interested in this bit of news he even goes so far as to crouch down. "So, what kind did you get?" "Did it take you long to find one that fit you?" Chattering and light hearted he's not /exactly/ ignoring the women but he's certainly pretending to - for now. Frowning just a little as Morgana speaks up, he continues to pay attention to Quinn instead. "It took me nearly twenty tries to get the right fit, but the Ollivander family is very good at wand fittings."
Very curious indeed to what plays out Daniel instead feigns sudden disinterest as he hears the boy's proclamation. "Do you now?" Seeming far more interested in this bit of news he even goes so far as to crouch down. "So, what kind did you get?" "Did it take you long to find one that fit you?" Chattering and light hearted he's not /exactly/ ignoring the women but he's certainly pretending to - for now. Frowning just a little as Morgana speaks up, he continues to pay attention to Quinn instead. "It took me nearly twenty tries to get the right fit, but the Ollivander family is very good at wand fittings."
"He seems like one of those sickeningly self-righteous types, doesn't he," Angelica chuckles to herself more than anyone else. "Brat: found." She continues to chuckle to herself until Morgana breaks her reverie. "I have no desire to see Raphael," she states matter-of-factly. "And I'm sure he has no desire to see me either. I had hopes of enlisting your help in something, but I'm starting to think better of it. Just know that while /you/ may not be afraid of Mummy, any half-intelligent suitor would be." She offers a charming smile and curtsies at her daughter.
"He moves rather quickly, I'm sure no unfoggyspittable anything will hit him." Sure it is unforgivable, but like he's going to remember that when he's got a wand and a pastry! Quinn watches after Martin before his attention is drawn back to Daniel and he grins a bit. "Oh, it is sycamore you know, and it is a little bit bendy but it has kelpie hair in it! It scared the puddin' outta me though because there was all 'give it a swish', so I did and then...WOOSH, red sparks." His eye goes wide. "It was completely a toss up between brilliant and terrifyin'." He eyes the women a bit longer before scratching his head. "I should prolly get back to me mum and da..."
"My help?" Morgana repeats, shaking her head at Angelica. "You mean, like the last time you got my help, cleaning up your mess at Arcane Artifacts?" She takes a deep breath before she adds, somewhat challengingly, "As it happens, I AM seeing someone. It's not Mister Darian of course, but if I wanted him, age wouldn't be the problem. What are you planning to do about that, /moth/er?"
"It would be far more intriguing than that darling, far more interesting--far more delicious," Angelica takes several steps towards her daughter. And then as Morgana mentions her seeing someone. Angelica lunges at her daughter and reaches for the younger woman's hair, pulling as hard as she can. "WHO IS IT?! YOU WILL TELL ME! AND YOU KNOW I CAN DO WORSE THAN THIS!"
"Rest /assured/ madam, that I am not the least bit *interested* in this young lady or any other person in a romantic fashion." Daniel is quickly becoming piqued by this whole banter and though he keeps tight control over his emotions the anger begins to slip through the cracks as can be heard in his tone of voice. "It has never had and never will have an appeal. I'm sorry if I *disappoint*." The smile did fade for that time, his lips pressed firmly into a scowl as he looks over his shoulder, "However, I found another Raphael for you. The man you were asking about lives in the slums. Ask about for a Sydney and you should be able to find him easily enough." Returning a smile to Quinn he stands back up. "Good on you for your wand! I'm sure you'll love old Hogwarts well enough." Glancing back at the women and then to the boy he nods, "Yes, it's probably best you go find your parents again." Dipping his hands into his coat pockets Dan nods to the women and then clears his throat.
"It was lovely to see the both of you again. I should probably be on my way as well." He asks no permission this time.
"It would be far more intriguing than that darling, far more interesting--far more delicious," Angelica takes several steps towards her daughter. "Yes? Another Raphael? One less disappointing, I assume! I will ask about Sydney indeed!" And then as Morgana mentions her seeing someone. Angelica lunges at her daughter and reaches for the younger woman's hair, pulling as hard as she can. "WHO IS IT?! YOU WILL TELL ME! AND YOU KNOW I CAN DO WORSE THAN THIS!"
Suddenly, all of Morgana's bravado and composure drops at once, and for possibly the first time ever in a public place, Morgana physically cringes away from her mother, raising both hands to protect herself, and sobs loud enough to be heard by those in the immediate vicinity. She makes an effort to struggle away from her mother and the grip that the woman has on her hair, but she doesn't seem to be able to without pulling her hair all the more tightly. Rather than provide a name, though, the only thing that actually falls from her lips is the sobbed, "DON'T TOUCH ME."
Quinn Branigan is finishing off the last bit of his pastry and nodding sagely to Daniel. "Oh I shall try my best to love it..." He trails off in time to see Angelica lose it and then Morgana is...is she sobbing? Is that hair pulling! Oh goodness. "...Oh blinkin' badword, uuuuh m' sorry sir but I've gotta go befo-oh blah, I should've never talked about Miss Sheet Portrait Broom Beatings, now the wimmen folk 'ave gone stark ravin' bug smoochin' 'air fritzing nutso!" And he turns on his heel and starts running. Quickly. "G'byeeee..." Trailing behind him.
Well there goes /that/ plan. Daniel's rather casual retreat is cut short by Angelica's antics in a public venue. Doing the only /proper/ thing that he can think of before someone decides to involve the Ministry yet *again* he has his wand at the ready. Pointing it directly at Angelica he casts a butterfinger hex on the woman. The well-heeled and generally unflappable socialite shows a different side in the pressure of the moment. "Let. Go. Of. Her. NOW!" There are certainly people watching and others reacting in their own way. Dan is very ready to throw off another spell and from the look in his eyes and the tone in his voice he's quite ready to get more forceful.
"Try to get away from me! My blood courses through your veins--whether you like it or not!" Angelica cackles as she maintains her grip. "His /name/, Morgana. WHAT is his NAME?" If there's any doubt that Angelica knows how to get information when she needs it, the doubt has all but vanished. Dan's spell of courses causes Angelica to lose her grpi, "Useless child. Disgraceful child. I had such plans for you and you would throw them away on some random suitor. I had such hopes for you. Such high hopes. Mummy will just have to achieve her ends on her own." Backing up a finger is then pointed at Daniel, "Darian, you /will/ live to regret this." With a pop, the woman disappears.
Even after Angelica disappears, it takes a long time - or at least, from the perspective of someone kneeling on the ground in a public place, sobbing in pain and fear - for Morgana to compose herself. It's only a moment, though, before she has the presence of mind to cover her face with her hands - perhaps people won't realise who she is if she keeps her face covered. Through her palms, though, she whispers, presumably to Daniel, "She's gone, right?"
Making sure the woman hasn't returned Daniel turns in a full circle after Angelica's quick retreat. His wand is still at the ready but when he realizes she isn't returning he lets his guard down. Drawing out his kerchief he hurries to where Morgana is kneeling and waves the crowd away angrily. While he doesn't carry enough weight to actually be obeyed by just anyone he is holding the bearing of someone who knows what he's about and confident enough to pull it off. Any bystanders who are interested in remaining aren't going to get chased off, but they are going to be ignored. Dropping to one knee next to the young woman he presses the kerchief on her. "Take it and use it to shield your face. Yes, she's gone." For the first time in their passing meetings his voice doesn't have that feigned and stylized cheer that he presents. He speaks from a place he's nearly forgotten. "Come on, we need to get you out of here before someone decides to call the authorities." "Are you hurt?" Ta
lking the whole time, he begins to stand and if allowed will draw Morgana up with him and begin to guide her away.
Obediently, Morgana covers her face with the kerchief, and she manages to get shakily to her feet after a moment, first brushing down her robes to get rid of any dirt that has ended up there, and then checking her shopping bag to make sure nothing in there has been damaged. Then, with a hiss of anger, "That BITCH pulled my hair." She wipes any remaining tears from her face with the kerchief, then clears her nose as delicately as she can, before she murmurs, "I can apparate - I'll find Rafe, no matter how upset with me she is, she so badly doesn't want to see Rafe that she'll - I'll stick to him until she loses interest." There's a brief pause and then, "I don't usually respond like that." Another, and then, "...you didn't have to help me." The tone sounds like a thanks, but there's no actual direct thanks in her words.
"No, but you didn't have to help me either." It's not exactly what he wants to say but Daniel isn't about to entirely remove the figurative mask he wears. "She's a very hard woman to deal with. I couldn't leave you at her not so tender mercies." "Keep the kerchief to cover your eyes. Hopefully this crowd will just think of this as nothing more than a catfight." His whispers continue as he leads her a short distance from the thick of the crowds. "You can find me at my shop or at the estate. Just stay low and I hope you stay well." This is real kindness and not something he's used to giving to much of anyone anymore, but it comes out naturally as it did so many years ago. "We are sure to meet up again another time. Until then." With that he steps back to allow Morgana her space.
Although she follows him through the crowd, Morgana doesn't say anything for a moment; eventually she nods and replies, "I... she will probably lose interest in what happened today soon enough. Or I will lie." She smiles very faintly, but it's hard to tell, exactly, through the kerchief covering most of her face. As Daniel steps back to give her space, the young woman steps forward and stretches onto her toes for just a moment - she is quite a bit shorter than Daniel, after all - to brush her lips very briefly against his cheek, assuming he doesn't suddenly move away, moving the kerchief higher over her head to continue covering everything above her lips. "That's not romantic," she warns him. "Just a platonic gesture."
"Don't worry, I wouldn't take it as such." Daniel smiles again and pats the younger woman on the shoulder. "You deserve better than having to be on the defensive all the time. If you are seeing someone he's a very lucky man and I suggest you run away together, for his sake if not yours." The smile dies out all too soon and leaves the man feeling stark and internally shaken. It has been far too long that he's shared anything truly meaningful with anyone aside from Tommy. "I know you will, but do take care."
"Why would you say if, do you think I'm lying?" Morgana asks, and for a moment, she seems a little annoyed again, but that fades soon enough into something a bit nicer. After a moment, she adds, "I don't intend to run away with him, though, I think it's likely to just fade away sometime soon. Maybe it'll be better if I leave the country for a while, who knows." She reaches out and touches his arm briefly, adding, in an undertone so low that only Daniel can hear, "I'm sorry I led her to you in the first place."
"Don't be," and he adds without thinking "dear." " She and I have history that goes back to before you were born." The vague smile creeps back onto Daniel's face but it has too many traces of sorrow from a past he can't escape to express real happiness. "She would have found me sooner or later. It was fate deciding to play with us both I fear. I used to have such good luck as child." Chuckling softly he reaches with his other hand to pat Morgana's. "I'll get by. She'll take her rage out on me. It will hurt a lot and then it will be, as it always is, over." "I hope you don't lose him. Having someone is, if I remember correctly, pleasant."
"Don't get used to me apologising to you," Morgana adds, after a moment, and stepping back from Daniel. "And that may be true, but that doesn't mean I want to be with just anyone." With those last words, though, she disapparates.
Don’t Put Up with People Who Are Reckless with Yours
It's mid to late afternoon - after most classes, but well before any Astronomy students should be wandering up to this tower. And yet, this is exactly what Joseph Wexler is doing, looking around furtively to make sure no one of interest notices him or his destination. Meeting at the top of the Astronomy Tower is a lovely idea; it is private up there, for... conversations. And because of the intimate nature of the conversations Joseph desires with Miss Whittier, he has been sure to clean his teeth before he attends. "Carrie?" He offers as he reaches the top, expression a lazy sort of mischievous smile.
"Hey, sheik,"Carrie's voice wafts over the classroom. She's not wearing her student's robes. At least, not right now. No, she's wearing proper flapper attire. The tiny little shift, Mary-Jane shoes and powdered knees visible below. Poised on one of the windows, she comes forward from there, with a wicked smile on her lips. "What kept you?"
"Noemie."Joseph replies vaguely, as though there is nothing at all unusual about this declaration. He reaches out to take her wrist, stepping closer to her. His gaze flickers up and down her body - and then remains there, for however boyish Carrie tries to make her form appear, there are some things that a guy like this Ravenclaw simply has to do. "You look... pretty gorgeous, Carrie Whittier. I'd really like to get to know you more personally." There is a certain flicker in his expression as he says this, as if it should be quite obvious in what ways he would /really/ like to get to know her.
Growing a fraction wider,Carrie's smile is parted for a brief second as she moistens her lips with her tongue briefly. "Oh, is that so?" She breaths, getting up from the window and moving very close to Joseph. She doesn't make a move on him, at least not yet, but she's awfully close to him, and so tantalizingly within reach...
"Yeah, it is."Joseph whispers in response, his own smile growing ever more mischievous. It is hardly a witty response, but on the other hand, she is practically throwing herself at him anyway. He doesn't need to be particularly witty. Taking his cues from her sheer closeness, presumably figuring that this is where the situation will end up soon enough anyway, he reaches out to grab her wrist and moves in that little bit further to kiss her firmly in the one gesture.
Freezing for only a split second upon that lip contact,Carrie melts into the kiss, pressing herself tightly against Joseph and whispering, "But, Joseph, what about Noemie?" Her hand drops down his chest, nearing his stomach.
With an attractive girl pressed tightly against him and kissing him, Joseph doesn't really feel the need to cease this state of affairs for a moment, only offering a quiet, almost breathless, "What /about/ Noemie?" in response as they part briefly. His arms wrap around her waist, endeavoring to keep her so close, and he kisses her again. After a moment, he adds, pulling back from the girl just enough to be able to speak clearly for the moment, "What she doesn't know won't hurt her, you know?"
Carrie steps forward again, speaking with her lips mere inches away from his, and whispers, "Alright." Her lips brush against his again and then bury themselves in his as her hand drops again, resting in between his legs as she pulls back a second time, whispering, "But what about Kitty?"
"Kitty who?" Joseph seems momentarily stunned by the question - particularly given the circumstances - though he wastes no time in shrugging it off and moving in on the girl again. Surely, in the back of his mind, he's trying desperately to remember who 'Kitty' could possibly be, but there are far more important issues at hand.
"Kitty who?" Carrie suddenly pulls back, her expression going from seductive to vengeful in a moment, and her hand on his crotch rapidly clenches from a caress to a vice like grip. "Kitty who? So the poor girl I watched nearly in tears from wondering how she could get the boy who was so nice to her to sweep her up is nothing, is she?" Spinning around, she pushes Joseph around, pushing him right up close against the open window. "I ought to take you for a ride, you heartbreaking son of a bitch!"
The initial string of breathless curses in response to his current predicament stops short as it occurs to Joseph that this might not be the best way to get out of the present situation, and he shakes his head furiously. "It's - it's not that she doesn't matter, Carrie." Meanwhile, he tries to quickly remember who this 'Kitty' girl could possibly be. "I just - probably don't know her name - I talk better if you back off, you psycho bitch."
"Kitty Nichols!" Carrie growls, pulling him away from the window and calming down... just a little... as she lets go of his crotch but shoves him across the room. "Listen to me,Joseph. Don't you /dare/ tease that sweet little girl. She's got no chance of knowing how to take it and all you'll give her are tears. And she's a /friend of mine/, you jerk."
"Nichols!"Joseph finally offers in response. "All I did was tell her she was pretty, Carrie." A pause, and he breathes deeply, taking a few steps back away from Carrie. "And shared my sweets with her. That's /all/, Carrie." He doesn't look up at the girl, too busy trying to explain himself and protect himself at the same time. "I wasn't trying to tease her. I was just being friendly."
"Don't give me that, Wexler." Carrie spits back. "You flirt. And I'm just as good at it as you are. I know full well what one little compliment and a kind gesture can do." She stands, hand on her hip, but her resolve is weakening a little. "That was /all/?"
"I didn't do /anything/ else to her." Joseph replies, quite seriously, his sincerity somewhat marked by his heavy breathing, but fairly evident nonetheless. "She's too young for me. I was nice to her, but I didn't mean to seriously give her hope - I just wanted to, you know, boost her confidence. Be /nice/." A pause, and he asks, tentatively, "If I come closer, will you leave little Joseph alone?"
"Oh, for pete's sake, Little Joseph?" Carrie breathes in disgust at the euphemism. "Yes, I will. I won't touch you again. You repulse me." She frowns at him still, but whispers back. "You should be bloody well more careful,Joseph. I was practically trying to stop her breaking out into tears."
Perhaps making a mental note to think of a better euphemism, perhaps too busy being afraid of the girl in front of him, Joseph inches closer, not daring to look directly at her. "I didn't mean for that to happen, honestly, Carrie. She seemed so... well, she was in the library all by herself, and we got to talking about sweets, so I offered her some..." There is, perhaps, just a hint of his exaggeration, that it wasn't quite as innocent as he suggests.
Carrie growls again, "You /flirt/, Joseph. Admit it. You do it because it puts girls on the back foot. You do it because then they can't attack you. You do it because it's fun and you love the way they look at you when they do it," Her voice has grown faint as she looks at the floor, "Trust me, Joseph. I know." There's a pause, and she looks up again, "But I will stand up for the few friends I have,Joseph. And I swear, if you tear out her heart, I will tear off your balls as fair play. Understood?"
For a moment, Joseph seems to almost feel a hint of compassion for the girl - he certainly inches a little closer to her and nods along with her words, at least having the decency to look ashamed of himself for it. Then, as she gets to the last point, he jumps away from her, cringing slightly. "Understood, Carrie. Understood."
"Good."Carrie pauses, looking around, "Joseph? I'm sorry. I over-reacted."
"Over-reacted?!" Joseph sputters in response. "Over-reacted? I'll say you over-reacted. You -" he pauses, taking another deep breath and calming down a little. "You know, I'm sorry, Carrie." He finally offers, with a bit of a sigh. "I shouldn't have been flirting with that poor girl. I'll try to make it up to her sometime." A pause, and he spreads his arms, beckoning for her to come closer. "Will you share with me an utterly platonic, non-violent hug, Carrie?"
She looks up at Joseph suspiciously, but finally steps forward and into his arms willingly. "I'm sorry, Joseph. I'm sorry. I just don't have many friends. I want to protect the ones I do."Carrie eventually wraps her arms around him in turn, and leans in closely.
Arms wrapped around the girl, Joseph rubs his hand in gentle circles around her back. "It's alright, Carrie. But I'm surprised." A pause, and he ventures, his tone careful as if he is trying his very hardest to be as tactful as he can manage, "I mean, you always seem to have plenty of friends. At least... intimate friends of the male persuasion." He flinches a tiny bit, tensing up and preparing to protect certain parts of his body if it becomes necessary at this point,
"I don't have many friends I could count on to be a horrible bitch and threaten to kill someone who broke my heart, then," Carrie mumbles, placing her hands reassuringly high on his back, well away from the aggrieved parts.
Still rubbing her back gently, in a way he probably considers to be at least moderately reassuring, Joseph seems uncertain of what else to add. "Carrie..." he begins, hesitating a little. "What about Kitty? Or Marybeth, the other Chaser? Or..." he releases her with one hand, waving it vaguely in the air as if that will help him. "Or Pantall, I've seen you with her a few times..."
"Joseph, be quiet," Carrie finally whispers, and simply holds him tightly. "Alright?"
Getting Ready for Hogwarts
It's late summer, and Diagon Alley is bustling with activity. Indira Montgomery is visiting with her mother and father as well as one of her older brothers. "Okay, you can hold the wand, Indira, but do not play with it. It isn't a play thing," Amala Montgomery tells her daughter kindly but firmly. "I know, I know," the girl answers, her eyes darting around at the passing people, to the store fronts, to the cobblestones, not paying attention to any one thing for very long.
This is so far not like the wagon! Sure, the Branigan family has been to quite a few similar areas but not exactly this one. Mama Branigan is no where to be found and this leaves Papa Branigan with his well groomed brown hair and monkey on his shoulder steering his colorfully dressed son to a place right outside a building and hunkering down a bit. "I've got to go fetch yer mum, dunnae move, boyo - well you can move but just, just be gah...just stay! Or go get the rest of yer stuff." Then the man runs off leaving the little boy, Quinn, with his newly bought wand standing outside the wand shop with a perplexed expression on his face as he holds the item gingerly by the very end, idly scratching the skin above his eye patch.
"We're going to take Lawson to get his new robes," Baldric Montgomery tells his daughter, gesturing to the robes shop just down the way. "Don't wander too far - we won't be long." The man carries several large parcels which he has precariously balanced in his arms. As promised, Baldric, Amala and Lawson meander over to Madam Malkin's shop, leaving Indira on her own temporarily in the alley. There's so much to see that the girl's attention is even more divided than usual. What does seem to catch and keep her eye is the pet store. The colorful sign designating "Magical Menagerie" is what draws her eye at first, then the animals in the window help to further distract her. On her way over, Indira's single-minded attention on the shop keeps her from noticing some of the people around her, and she bumps gently into any number of people before finally coming almost face to face with Quinn. She manages to stop just short, but that doesn't stop his apparent sudden presence from startl
ing her into a high-pitched shriek. "Where did you come from?" she asks after catching her breath.
A shrieking kid! Quinn's eye widens as he stares at the girl for a few moments. He was just going to peer in the animal shop window but then there is a girl and she's shrieking so all he can really do is blink and shrug his shoulders. "Me mum says fairies dropped me in me cradle, me Granny says a bird stuck me under the wagon, but me da' always says he'll tell me when I'm older." He flashes a grin and shifts his wand to his other hand, still eyeing it warily. "How 'bout you?" Yep, he's an Irish one.
"Ranger Marley Wexler, stay close!" Chance's mother urges. Kalika has decided to brave Diagon Alley with all of her children in tow: Chance, Liberty, Ranger, and Wren. Chance, of course, is minding his youngest sister, Wren, while Liberty and Kalika traipse after Ranger (who has disappeared into the crowd of people). "Why does he /always/ do that?" Wren whines to her eldest brother. With a sigh, Chance rolls his eyes, "I don't know, Wren. I just don't know." Pressing his lips together he glances around the area, peering at the numerous shops, until he hears the high-pitched shriek. Being the eldest in his family, with both Wexler and Fallon blood, it should come as no surprise that Chance reaches for Wren's hand, and darts in the direction of the shriek. Arriving in front of Indira, Chance blinks, "Are you okay? We heard a shriek--" His cheeks flush as he realizes that, as usual, he's blown the situation out of proportion. Wren just stands by her older brother very quietly.
"He just came out of nowhere," Indira tells the newcomer to the situation, a slight Scottish lilt coming back into her accent as she relaxes again. "You came from-- huh?" she asks, then turns and stares at the pet shop window for a moment. It's not long before she shakes her head, as if coming out of a trance, then realizes just how close to Quinn she's standing. She takes a step back and eyes the other children curiously. "I'm Indira. Who are you?" she asks to none of them in particular. "We're here getting my wand for school. Isn't it nice?" She brandishes the box that holds the aforementioned item, then opens it excitedly. "It's willow and it has a zircon powder core."
Quinn Branigan stares at this strange girl a little longer before eyeing the new comer with a slow blink and he just chuckles softly. "M' 'ere shoppin' for me school too actually, I got this stick tingie wand too." He nods a bit. "Oh! The man, he said it was sycamore wand and the core is kelpie 'air or somethin' like that." He eyes Chance for a bit though before looking back to Indira. "Very um, nice."
"Wow! I wish I was buying a wand! I only just turned ten a few months back, so I have to wait another whole year!" Chance marvels at the wand. "Oh, I'm Chance Rathe," Wexler is said rather proudly as if his lastname should give him some kind of notoriety "and this is my sister Wren; she's seven." Chance offers the girl a lopsided grin. "Are you going to Hogwartsm then? Both my parents went there--both Gryffindors." He offers the girl a warm smile.
As Quinn talks, Indira looks directly at him. "Hey, what happened to your eye?" she asks without any seeming awkwardness over the question. "And what's your name, kid?" She pauses, glancing at the wand that the boy has described. "Nice wand," She compliments, then looks straight up into the air, as if something has caught her attention. It's another moment before her attention comes back down and she registers what Chance has said. "Oh, my parents were in Gryffindor, too. My brother Jasper is a Gryffindor, and Lawson is a Hufflepuff. I think they want me to be a Gryffindor, too." She pauses. "I'm not sure I really care what house I'm in." She looks at Wren and then Chance. "Hey, you guys look alike," she comments.
Quinn has to look up towards the air after the compliment from Indira, trying to see what might be up there that caught the girl's attention. "Uh, that's a really really long story." Then he is quiet as he listens to the conversation as he looks between the fellow children. He has little say though, he's never lived in a house before.
"I don't think anyone on mum's side wasn't in Gryffindor," Chance looks up at nothing in particular, as if all of his memories were etched in the sky above, "Mum, Uncle Tommy, their cousin Avery, Auntie Christine. . . all Gryffindors. . . oh wait--we had one uncle in Slytherin, but we don't know him. But dad's side was different--and I have cousins in different houses than Gryffindor too." He offers a dimpled smile again. "Yeah, people always tell all of us kids that we look alike, don't they Wren?" Wren nods sagely, but still says nothing. A smirk is given to Quinn, "Not too long though, right?" Of course, Chance is somewhat used to people who speak constantly without taking a breath.
"Will you tell me sometime?" Indira asks to Quinn. "I have time." She peers at his eye patch and then shrugs absently. "My uncle was in Ravenclaw. I don't really remember anyone else. I bet you'll be in Gryffindor since most of your family was." She pauses again. "I think I'm going to ask mum and dad to get me an owl. No, maybe a cat. Hmm, I don't know." Indira walks around Quinn and stares hard into the window for a moment, reaching back to pull her braid into her fingers. After another couple of moments, she turns back to the other children. "What house do you think you'll be in, uh... what's-your-name?"
"Well no, not that long. It actually isn't long at all, I guess I could tell it but at the end of the day, it was all the rat's fault ye know how they are..." Quinn trails off and toes the ground before tucking his wand experimentally into his sash, then slipping it out as he blinks and look between the two. "Me mum 'ad a cat. Horrible little orange thing..." He pulls a face. "But I dunno what type of pet I want." He follows Indira with his eyes and then he shrugs. "I dunno what 'ouse I'll be in, me da was in uh Hugglewuff. I'm Quinn!" He chirps.
"Yes. The rat's fault," Chance really doesn't want to think about how a rat damaged the other boy's eye. He suppresses a shudder and then glances at his sister who looks mortified. Chance bends down and whispers something in his sister's ear to which the young girl perks up a bit. Chance then redirects his attention back to the other children, "I think Hufflepuff is a great house! So is Gryffindor. And Ravenclaw. And Slytherin is too. I guess they're all pretty okay." He flushes slightly again.
"My brother is in Hufflepuff, too," Indira contributes. "I like my brother." She nods, as if this seems like a strange fact. "A rat?" she realizes, then makes a face. "Gross." The girl continues to run her fingers over her thick braid, back and forth while she looks from Chance, to Wren, to Quinn, then back again. "So, did you get all your supplies, then?" she asks somewhat awkwardly. "My parents gave me mine for my birthday, including a nice chest." It's at this moment that Amala and Baldric reappear, with another package and their oldest son in tow. "Indira, there you are!" Amala calls and comes to stand just behind her daughter. "Have you been making friends?" she asks, smiling to the other children around. Indira responds with a shrug and looks slightly sheepish at her peers.
"That's great. I've never lived in an 'ouse before, so I'm sure they are all really great." Quinn drawls before he has to agree about the rat thing. "Rats are misunderstood critters ye gots to understand, but they can be vicious." He makes a rat like squeaking noise before shuddering. "Ah, m' still getting me supplies, but tis a bit 'ard." He sighs before he has to stare at the parents as they arrive and he raises a hand to shyly wave a bit and give a small bow.
"Well I'll be waiting awhile longer to get my supplies," Chance chuckles. "Like I said, I've got another year before I'm Hogwarts-bound." He grins at the thought. He's been hearing about Hogwarts ever since he can remember. Of course, all he heard about were his parents', uncles', and aunts' glory days rather than the drudgery of homework and school. "Chance! Wren!" Kalika's voice interrupts Chance's internal reverie about school, "I thought I'd lost you! Why didn't you stay where I'd left you?" The excitable woman clutches Ranger in one hand--holding Ranger's other hand is Liberty, determined to keep her younger brother in sight (for once). "There was a shriek . . ." Chance begins. And then his mum cuts him off, "Amala Parmer{?}, is that you? I'm Kalika Fallon-Wexler!" Her eyes are also narrowed at Quinn's Father, "You also look /very/ familiar. . ." She takes a few steps closer towards Brandon and squints, as if trying to imagine what he would've looked like at a younger ag
e.
Indira's mother turns to the approaching woman and stares for a moment. "Kalika Fallon, right!" she responds with a laugh. "Amala Montgomery now. Do you remember Baldric?" she asks, gesturing to the man at her side with a smile. "This is our oldest son, Lawson," she states proudly, and hugs a rather indignant-looking Indira to her. "And this is Indira. She's starting at Hogwarts this year." Indira looks at the other kids and makes a bit of a face. "Which Wexler did you marry?" the woman asks and laughs again. Indira pulls free of her mother's grasp with a dramatic sigh and steps forward again. "They're not really /houses/ you know," she tells Quinn. "They're dormitories. Ask Lawson, he knows." She points to her brother with a nod, then her attention is distracted again by the cobblestones on the road.
Brandon Branigan had been gone for a while, and he returns with one hand wrapped around the arm of a young looking woman with dark hair, dark eyes and a dreamy expression on her face and her arms wrapped around a orange cat and she giggles giddily. "Quincy!" She sing-songs. "Papa's gonna buy me caaaandy." - Brandon just smiles a bit strained as he eyes the other adults and he rests his free hand on Quinn's head. "Ooohoho, Quin-Quincy's makin' friends, 'ow lovely. Um." He stares at the person studying him. "Maaaaaybe, I dun exactly know - Quincy, did ye get some more tings on yer list?" Quinn? Yes, he's busy facepalming and shaking his head. He squirms free to stand closer to Indira and point at the girl, letting the adults talk. "I've never lived in a doromiry either." He nods smartly and waves a bit to Chance. "But me pillow sings." That's about the time a tiny monkey makes his way through the crowd to climb up and perch on Brandon's shoulder.
"I could swear I knew you back at Hogwarts although, that was /ages/ ago. I'm Kalika Fallon-Wexler," Kalika grins as she introduces herself. "I do remember Baldric! How could I forget my brother's friends? It's great to see you both!" Kalika chimes. "Yes, I'm a Wexler now--I married Gil." She smiles sheepishly and then points to each of ther children in turn, "That's my youngest Wren. The one I'm grasping is Ranger. Over there is Liberty--our second eldest. And this is Chance, our eldest." She sighs a bit, "I bet it'll be quiet around your house when they're both away at Hogwarts. I'm certainly not looking forward to losing Chancey to it in another year," she pinches Chance's cheeks. The boy rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. "And once Chance's gone, it'll be one right after the other, but at least they'll still have each other. I almost feel bad for Chance all on his own his first year. . ." At this the very smallest hint of a smile can be seen spreading ove
r Chance's lips: a year alone, without the others. He inches further from the adults and closer to the kids. "I wish I had a singing pillow," he smirks.
"It has been a long time," Amala comments with a smile. "We've also got four. Lawson here's the oldest, he's nearly sixteen, then Jasper, he'll be thirteen pretty soon. Indira is just eleven, and little Kala is going on eight." Indira's attention is drawn back as she hears her name, but realizing that it's only boring adult conversation, she turns her attention back to her peers once again. "How do you sleep when it's singing, though?" She pauses. "I suppose you would get used to it. "Who are they?" Indira asks Chance. "Your brother and sister?" She clearly was not listening when Kalika was doing introductions. Now, with all the parents around, Indira seems uncertain as to what she should or shouldn't say. After all, it's not as fun to have normal conversation when your parents are hovering over your shoulder!
Brandon is quiet as he looks from person to person. "Oh! Hogwarts, yes, now I remember. I believe ye ah, ye were all up in the um 'igher years. Will ye excuse me and me wife." He tugs the woman off and over as he walks over somewhere leaving Quinn behind. He stares after his parents before pointing at Chance. "I'll ask me Granny if she 'as another one." Then to Indira. "Oh, it sings til I sleep." Then back to staring at his wand. Adults are around, that's always nerve wracking.
"Yes, I was in the upper years compared to yourself, I told you, I'm an old lady now," Kalika chuckles. "Yes, they're my brother and sister: Ranger and Liberty. Liberty is a year older than Ranger, but I'm the oldest," Chance grins. "I told you we all kind of looked alike, just enough that people think we're related, which is good because we are." He grins again. "Four is a great number of children--no middle child to feel left out or anything, and two of each really worked well for us--not that a person can choose," Kalika smiles and then her eyes widen, "Oh look at me, chatting away when we have to get home to get supper on the table--please excuse my rudeness. We'll have to meet up again soon and have a /proper/ visit. Nice seeing you." That said, Kalika, gathers her brood, still grasping Ranger, "Come along Wren, Liberty, Chance." That said, Chance gives his new acquaintances a half-wave and traipses after his mum and siblings.
"It was nice seeing you again!" Amala calls after Kalika and gives a bit of a wave. "Nice to meet you," Baldric calls out to Brandon and his wife as they retreat, and the two return their attention to their daughter. "Let's finish up, Indira," Amala comments and pats her daughter on the shoulder. Indira sighs and nods to her parents. "I'll see you on the train, right?" she tells Quinn. "Good luck shopping!" She smiles a bit then allows herself to be ushered off by her parents, giving a little wave as she goes. Just a moment later, and the family has disappeared into the crowd of people in Diagon Alley.