A chill was in the air early in the summer morning at Eldcraft Rise. The building was separated into two storeys - the ground floor was swept and the shelves were lined with bottles gilded with silver dragons. The outside bore a sign in large, newspaper black print, 'Wolfsbane Enchanted Liquers', and the large square windows boasted the slogan of 'Curses, Charms, Potions, Or We'll Knock Something Up Special'. The first floor was the real home in all of this, but instead of being treated like a home tonight, instead of the evening being spent the usual way, reading up on ancient muggle lore - something Edmund and Rachel Wolfsbane would rather be doing - there was a commotion going on.
The sun had not yet risen, but the house was ablaze with flurry. Midwives bustled about, each one doing something different. One pointed their wand into a large basin, and hot water began flowing from the end of it, another carried towels from the tip of her wand, trying as hard as she could not to knock one of the large porcelain vases over. Magwitch, the black Persian cat, clawed at the floating cloth. All the while, Mr Wolfsbane held his wife's hand as she focused on her breathing.
By the time the sun poked up over the herb garden, Rachel held a pale, tiny baby girl in her arms. The infant reached out a pudgy hand, reaching out for her father, as the proud mother gazed with pure adoration for her husband and child.
As the sun rose and became high in the sky, Edmund had fallen asleep, but Rachel couldn't keep her eyes shut, watching her daughter sleep peacefully, breathing as deeply as her tiny lungs would allow.
"Edmund," she whispered, nudging him softly, wanting him to appreciate her as much as she did. When she did not get a reaction, she whispered his name, drawing it out and prodding him with her elbow. He squinted his eyes open, grunting and brushing back his nut-brown curls,
"Mm?"
"What do you think we'll call her?"
At the question proposed, he leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees, and scratched his head.
"Well, I-I-I don't know, what do you think she'd want?"
Rachel waved her hand away, "she's just a child. Really, you do say some stupid things when you're tired." She raised her eyes to him, but kept her thin face directed at her child, as if something could happen to the child as she took a few minutes to talk to her husband. Edmund sat back and rubbed the short, stubbly beginnings of a beard, a thing he despised. He gave a small, embarrassed smile to her and rubbed the back of his head, his eyes avoiding hers. He hunched his shoulders and took in a sharp breath,
"Can I hold her? Just for a little bit?" Rachel's adoring eyes shifted from her new daughter to her husband, and with outstretched arms she handed the tiny baby girl to him. She was barely the size of his hand, but to him she meant the universe. Everything he had, everything he wanted in life was snoring peacefully, gripping his thumb.
"Belladonna?" He suggested, each syllable elongated in dreamy sighs,
"Belladonna Wolfsbane?" Rachel let out a short, sharp laugh, "she's a girl, not an opera!"
"How about..." Edmund eyed the bottles of extra potion ingredients on the storage shelf above the doorway, resting his eyes on a small bottle filled with torn-up leaves on vines, "Ivy?"
"Ivy!" Cried out the new mother, sitting up in bed in a rather jerking manner and throwing both arms, fists clenched, into the air in a victory stance. Edmund laid a hand on her chest and pushed her lightly against the lavender down feathers, "calm down, dear!" He laughed holding Ivy close to his body, "you'll over exert yourself!" However, the business mind of Rachel Amelia Wolfsbane was already set in motion, as she began to plan, "oh, what are we going to do about the shop? We're going to have to order extra in advance, you're going to have to do most of the spells, she has to be upstairs at all times when we're cooking up curses and using poisonous ingredients!"
"Well if you must decide the future now," he interjected, taking his hand away from her and cupping the infant's head, "at least decide her future! What school will she-"
"Oh, that's easy," waved Rachel, as if swatting a fly, "Hogwarts."
"Really?" He gulped, tugging at his collar, "you want her to go there?"
"You think she can't get in?"
"No, no! Heavens no! It's just that-"
"It's just that what?"
"Well," he stammered, "Hogwarts is getting awfully full, and besides," he lowered his voice, "what if she gets sorted into Slytherin?" His tone shifted from unsure to downright concerned, "kids there are so cruel to Slytherin," he covered one side of his mouth and leaned in closer, "did you know they actually boo the children who get sorted there? 11 year olds! Booed! They haven't even done anything and they're bullied! And then there's that ex-Slytherin, Lucius. I don't want my little princess growing up like," he contorted his face into a look of disgust and put on a mocking voice, "Lucius Malfoy."
"Well," sighed Rachel, letting the beginnings of a yawn escape her lips, "I doubt we have anything to worry about just yet. We still have 11 years together as a family. D'you hear that?" Squeaked Rachel excitedly, "we're gonna be a real family!"
"That's-" yawned Edmund, catching her contagious yawn, "that's great, Honeybee, but I really think we should start celebrating later today. It's been a lo-long night," he smacked his dry, cracked lips, "maybe slightly worse for you."
Rachel moved her eyes from his, and lowered them to his arms and gently took Ivy back, and with a gentle laugh at her husband's remark, she drifted off to sleep. But not before she made a final, passing comment,
"Your jokes are atrocious. You're going to be a great dad."
The clocks sang in deep alto notes throughout the still cottage, complimented only by creaks of floorboards in staccato, as the night brought a cold wind that made each wooden plank contract. They chimed - once, twice, eleven times! Edmund Wolfsbane was the first to wake, quickly noticing a sharp breeze that cut through his brown hair. His suspicion quickly arose, as it was his distinct memory - something he took great pride in - that he had closed all doors and windows. He quickly drew his wand and made his way across the room, mouthing spells as if reading them out of a book, preparing himself for what lay beyond him in the darkness. He pushed the ajar door open and stepped across the threshold, crossing from a thin sliver of moonlight to total darkness.
"Lumos," he muttered, swirling the tip of his wand in a tiny loop. A small beam of light, as if from a matchstick, appeared quite literally under his nose. He extended his arm further, searching in the darkness for the offending door or window. He drifted in dreamlike manner like a spirit, a ghoul, a curse upon the house, but his mind was razor sharp. His olive eyes scanned window latches and doorways, and yet still there was nothing out of the ordinary. It was then that he cast his eyes beyond the tip of the wand, and down the dark spiral stairway to the ground floor of Eldcraft Rise, where potions were made and sold to those with neither the mental capacity or willpower of cook up the potions that worked like Wolfsbane Brand potions worked. With cat-like stealth, he crept across the first floor landing to the stairs and lowered the wand to his ankles, illuminating the stairs below him.
He took his first step into the unknown, which, in the daytime he knew so well. The step lurched under his slippers, and he felt fear in the form of cold sweat on the nape of his neck, as he stood completely still, waiting for the house to become silent again. It took an eternity of five seconds for the house to settle, and he took no time in scaling the remainder of the journey.
His feet stuck on solid ground, he straightened up, holding the wand before him protectively, and in the light of the Lumos charm he could make out the faint silhouette of the large gilded fireplace that made Wolfsbane Potions so popular among wizard and witch tourists. A figure stirred behind the counter, taking heavy breaths, which quickly caught Edmund's eye, but before he could utter a spell, up went the cry of:
"Incendio!"
A bright flame leapt from the tip of a wand poking out from behind the counter, and struck the back of the fireplace with suck power that embers and sparks scattered in a chaotic dance against the back wall and hearth. The room exploded with colour and light, rays of golden fire reflecting in bottles of ginger root and jasmine lined in neat rows on the mantelpiece.
Edmund spun, examining each and every crevice illuminated by the fire, both of his arms crossed over his body defensively. One by one, people pricked their heads up from behind furniture, showing their hands in the air jokingly,
"Don't shoot, Eddie," a balding man with a thick caterpillar moustache laughed, "we came to see the baby!"
"Dad," Edmund hissed, pressing his finger to his lips and pointing to the ceiling, "she's asleep. As is my wife."
Just then, a pale face appeared at the top of the stairs, clutching Ivy protectively, "Eddie," she stirred, "what's going on?" In her arms, the baby writhed uncomfortably, occasionally letting out grunting noises, "Ivy's woken up."
"Dear," cooed a greying woman who made her way to the front, her arms outstretched in a warm manner.
"Mum?" Rachel blinked, taking another step. The loud creak of the floorboard jolted her and her child, sending the red faced infant into a wave of tears and screams. Rachel, uncomfortable with the loud noise, asked her husband to calm her down,
"No," he protested,
"Yes," she insisted,
"I'm not good with..." He waved in the direction of the clamor, "... These... Things!"
"Now, calm down dearie," breathed Rachel's mother, her voice soothing and pure as silk, "and give her to me. I'll calm her down." She went up as Rachel went down, the baby transaction taking place in the middle of the grand staircase. One Ivy was safely in the mother's arms, Rachel and her mum joined the party together, issuing soothing words and soft touch until the infant's rage had subsided, and Ivy has been lulled back to sleep. Successfully snoring away, the rest of the relatives emerged from their hiding spots and swarmed around the child,
"Oh, how sweet," one cooed,
"She's got her mother's ears!"
"And her father's nose!"
"And did you see the look in her eye as she looked at all of us?" Gasped Alfred, Edmund's brother, "I think somebody's going to get a high rank in the Ministry," he cooed, stroking the thin wisps of blonde hair on the top of her head.
"But look at those arms!" Squealed aunt Margaret, pinching the chubby, stumpy arm that poked out of the young Ivy's swaddling, "those are broomstick riding arms! She could be the next seeker for the Quidditch World Cup!"
With each aspiration of fame across the Wizarding World there was an uproar of approval and a wave of nodding heads, and the baby was passed from relative to relative, each one proclaiming that one of Ivy's features is the most perfect, and absolutely must have been inherited from them.
Every now and again, the fireplace roared blue, and more Wolfsbanes appeared through the floo powder network, as the two happy parents shared a beam of pride that their daughter had such amazing potential.