Tamblin Demosthene and the Artiste's Alcove
Tamblin listened to the high soft voice of the house elf as it snuck into the room.
"Is it time? The Young Master must not be late, train leaves at 11, and so much to do. But Young Master needs sleep and rest. That's why Vlora goes and buys his things for him. Yes, Master must sleep and be rested."
Tamblin lay still giving no sign that he had woken earlier.
"But what if Vlora is wrong? Master missing train would be so naughty. Vlora can't let that happen."
Small hands shook Tamblin gently.
"Young Master, today is the day, we must be up and eat and dress and get things and then you must be off. Unless you need sleep."
Tamblin let his eyes open. The dwarfish figure of the house elf Vlora stood by his bed, much as she had every morning. It was rare however for her to wake him.
"Good morning, Vlora. Is breakfast is ready?"
"Yes of course, Young Master. You need lots of good food for your trip to Hogwarts!"
As always Vlora literally swelled with pride when she mentioned his acceptance to the school of witchcraft and wizardry. The Demosthene family had been pure blood as far back as the family histories went and that was very far indeed. He was however the first of his name to attend the English school of magic.
Tamblin felt generally apathetic to the matter. While he supposed it was generally good to be carrying on in his parent's traditions, and while Hogwarts was no doubt a fine institution, he felt no great desire to be a wizard. Nor, though, did he feel much impetus toward some other vocation. His family estate was certainly large enough for him to live off of comfortably to an old age.
He might have drifted along had not an owl appeared upon his stoop with the card informing him of his acceptance to Hogwarts. Once Vlora saw that it was all she could talk about. He had on several occasions been tempted to order her never to speak of the matter again, but the house elf had served him faithfully since he was a child, providing nourishment and instruction, and he felt somewhat inclined to humor her despite her station.
He padded silently down the stairs toward the study when Vlora rushed to intercept him.
"Master, breakfast is on the dining table."
"Vlora, I prefer to eat in the study."
"But Master the family tradition is for all meals to be taken at the dining room table."
"Really? I had forgotten since you told me that yesterday. And every day before. What did I say to you the first day I chose to eat in the study?"
"You asked how many people could be seated at the dining room table."
"Go on."
"I said it seated eighteen or seventy two when the extending charm is used. And you asked how many the desk in the study seated. And I said 'one.' And you asked how many were having breakfast. And I said 'one.' And you said then we had no need of seating for seventeen guests who would not be arriving."
"Thank you for reciting it once again," Tamblin said wearily.
"But Master, tradition is...was so important to your father and the family."
"Yes, but in this one matter my family will have to be disappointed."
"Yes, Master," said Vlora and hurried off to gather the breakfast dishes and bring them to the study.
Within the study Tamblin could look out through windows on the various fields he had played in as a small child, always with Vlora standing by to heal any cuts or scrapes. Instead he focused on the large dark red cherry wood desk which had been his father's and so back several generations.
On the desk stood a number of quills and bottles of ink with various properties. In an old brass picture frame stood a man dressed in a formal suit and staring reproachfully at Tamblin. There was a definite family resemblance between the two. Next to the man stood two boys of similar ages. One of them was Tamblin's father and the other an uncle he had never met. The family stood in front of a castle portcullis and occasionally a servant peered out of the background with a nervous look. Next to the animated picture stood a complicated brass instrument like a sextant. Instead of navigating by stars though it navigated amongst family holdings. Next to the sextant was a small statuette of an amphisbaen- a snake with a head at each end. When Tamblin sat at the desk it woke and looked at him with emeralds flickering in its' eyes. Both tongues flicked out tasting the air. When it had satisfied itself that Tamblin belonged it slithered up to his arm and around his wrist. The heads linked to each other and the statuette slept close to his body heat.
Vlora bustled in laden with plates, jugs, cups, saucers, and bowls so that the house elf underneath was concealed as some form of walking sideboard. The amphisbaen looked up at the house elf and flicked a tongue at her before settling back to sleep.
While Tamblin ate Vlora returned equally laden but this time by heavy books.
"Young Master, I sent for these books. They are the ones you'll need for the school!"
Tamblin nodded silently and tried not to notice the two octave rise in her voice when she said "school."
"I've also packed your bags with the clothes and cauldron and everything else and I laid out some fine clothes for the trip!"
This was somewhat worrying news. With a feeling of dread he finished breakfast and then removed the amphisbaen back to her spot by the sextant. Then he headed back to his room to dress.
Laid out on the bed was an orange t-shirt with polka dots of navy blue. Next to it was a sweater of lime green with fringe along the seams. Below it was a pair of violet pants with a slight bell bottom flair at the ends.
"Vlora, can you join me up here for a moment?"
A small crashing sound from something dropped was followed by the house elf's hasty entrance. Tamblin pointed at the cloth monstrosities on the bed.
"That is the outfit you picked out for me to wear?"
"Yes, Master will be so bright and colorful. Everyone will know Vlora's master is the best, even at Hogwarts!"
At this thought she began to hum an improvised tune to which she danced an equally improvised jig.
"Vlora, listen carefully."
The house elf stopped mid-dance with one foot still held up in the air. Her ears were stretched out as far as they could to listen.
"I want those clothes incinerated."
Vlora's ears immediately dropped flat against her head.
"Burned? You want fancy clothes burned?"
"Oh, yes. Put them in the big fireplace and burn them thoroughly. I don't want so much as a single thread to remain. Wait. Before you do that are there any 'fancy' clothes in the bags you packed?"
Vlora shook her head slightly. Her eyes were downcast.
"I had to use a charm to make Master's clothes fancy and bright."
"I'm not mad at you, Vlora. But you would do well to remember that I am not a house elf and am not interested in the fashions of your kind."
Hesitantly Vlora retrieved the clothes from the bed and shuffled off to burn them as instructed. Tamblin rummaged through the dresser and found suitably subdued clothes of black, grey, and white in which to dress.
Dressed and back down in the first floor living room Tamblin looked approvingly upon the blazing fire in a hearth large enough to serve a small family for an apartment. Vlora approached cautiously bearing a parcel wrapped in a deep red silk bag closed at the end with black drawstrings.
"Master there's one other thing you'd be needing for Hogwarts."
She held out the parcel to him. He took it gently and untied the drawstrings. From the bag he pulled out a thick rod, fifteen inches long and an inch and a half in diameter. The material was some strange smooth black substance. As he held it his hand tingled slightly and felt cool, almost cold. Tamblin looked from the item to Vlora who shuffled back and forth from one foot to the other.
"It was your father's wand, Master."
Tamblin regarded the wand again.
"I thought wands were slimmer, tapered, and made of wood," Tamblin said.
"They come in many forms, Master. But I know this to be his wand. I saw him use it many times especially when Vlora was naughty," Vlora said cringing slightly at some memory.
"Well I think this was a very appropriate choice, but you'll not have to fear me often using it as my father did. Thank you, Vlora."
The house elf regained the vigor her earlier scolding had cost her. She began busying herself about the house muttering to herself everything that must be done.
The time came to leave for the station. Vlora tried to insist on coming along but as he was traveling to the station by muggle taxi that was impractical. At the door to the Demosthene mansion Tamblin put a hand on the elf's small shoulder.
"Will you be able to manage the affairs here alone?"
"Yes Master, the house will be in good shape for your return."
Large tears filled the elf's huge eyes.
"Very well, you may use the owl post to contact me at Hogwarts if there is a necessity."
Vlora solemnly nodded and clutched her hands together.
"Be careful Young Master."
Tamblin walked out the door and down the path to the drive way where the taxi waited.