i just took down slytherins and i am slowly redoing all the chapters when i get the time to. here's chapter one, fully edited, all typos and mistakes fixed. i hope to have the rest of the fic up by theend of june.
enjoy. read&review.
Many secrets are kept about Slytherins, many questions left unanswered and thoughts left hanging on the edge of a cliff. Things are often left out of stories you hear about us; our childhoods, our moments of weakness, moments of lust. You only hear of the mass murders we helped the Dark Lord complete, of our glorious moments and of the hatred that others had to us. Not that those events aren't important. They helped shape and mold me into what I became. Many facades are put on to make us appear nobler and purer than we are. Those of us who came of age in the 70's were at the height of pure blood theory, many of us backing the idea and starting the fearsome group known as the Death Eaters.
I was a curious child, prying into things and often getting scolded by my mother for it. She was a sharp, fairly pretty woman, entering her thirties with dark brown hair. Mere always seemed to show up when I was doing something wrong, but she would simply pinch my cheek and tell me that being curious wasn't a bad thing. My parents were lenient, such was the way of the French and the home I grew up in. I could get away with anything, until Rabastan came along. I was going to turn three in October and he was born in August. I wasn't allowed to come anywhere near him for those first few months after his birth. He was a precious cargo, just as I had been. I only caught glimpses of my baby brother throughout the house. Mere never seemed to have time for me any more, constantly with 'Little Rabastan' in his nursery. I grew jealous of him because I didn't understand that the new baby needed attention. I was finally allowed to see more than a glimpse of him the first holiday that we had with our family after he was born. Mere and Father took off from their work. My father taught at Beuxbutons as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and Mere worked in the branch of the Ministry that housed in France.
We didn't really go on holiday, just stayed at home but together. The first time all four of us had been in quite a while. Mere came into the front living room of our Château, carrying Rabastan in her arms. At this time he was almost half a year old and a pale, thin baby. Mere let me hold him and when I noted that he didn't look well, she yanked him away and scolded me for being obnoxious.
"He's fine." She said, smoothing over the little tuffs of black hair that had begun to grow on his head. "There's nothing wrong with him. Nothing at all."
But Mere was wrong. Something was wrong with my baby brother, I could tell. Call it some odd ability to read your siblings, but he seemed to be sick and weak. That afternoon went by in a blur. I played a rigged game of Wizard's Chess with my father. I was still a toddler, so he would always bewitch my pieces and let me win. I always played with the black pieces, for those were the ones I saw Pere play with when he played his friends after dinner parties. I wanted to grow up and be just like him. He was my idol when I was small, my world which my mother and brother only lived in.
Mere didn't allow me to hold Rabastan again that day, he soon went to sleep and slept through the whole afternoon. Father noticed that he didn't look good either, but made no comment about it to Mere while in front of me. They never talked about important matters in front of us children. We were not to be burdened with such things.
They had taken two days off of work to spend time with us. The next day I still wasn't allowed to hold Rabastan but I noticed that he was sneezing uncontrollably. I no longer was jealous of him, I wanted to know what was wrong with my baby brother. That day was spent helping Mere cook in the kitchen, something the house elves often did, but that she wanted to because she liked it. We made tarts, my favorite sweet and she read Rabastan and I a story that night. Father lurked by, playing another game of Wizard's Chess with me and letting me win again.
The next day, when all went back to normal I decided to check on Rabastan in his nursery. I hadn't been in this room since the day that he was born. We were often left at home with the house elves and our Nanny. The Nanny stayed in the nursery, only running out to prepare us lunch. I stayed in my room most of the time or went outside and played around the gardens. Madame Mossiuer was an old pruney witch, late in her 60's but always filled with some story to tell me. I went into the nursery that afternoon, she wasn't in there. Rabastan lay in his crib, sleeping. He looked so peaceful but was so very frail. I wrapped my hands around the railing of the crib and looked at him for a while before something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. A bottle sat beside the rocking chair where Madame Mossiuer usually sat in. The contents weren't white like milk. No. They were a pink-purple colour. The bottle was half empty.
What were they feeding my little brother? Was it a potion? Or medication? Was this the reason why he constantly remained sick? Did my parents not love him enough to keep him?
I ran down the hallway, tears streaming down my face, screaming for Madame Mossiuer at the top of my lungs. Only a few people or incidents in my life have ever made me rouse enough emotion to cry. I was venerable back then, putty that needed to be molded. Madame came peddling down the corridor and I ran up to her, grabbing the bottom of her robes and tugging for her to follow me to the nursery.
"Dear little Roddie, whatever is the matter?" Her face had a worried expression on it and I didn't answer her, only tugging for her to follow me. Finally she gave in a followed me down the hall. I pointed to the bottle. "What is that stuff. Does it make Rabastan sick?"
She took the bottle up in her hands. "No. We'd never give him anything to make him sick dearie. Come here." She motioned for me to come and sit in her lap as she sat down in the chair. I did as told and sat in her lap, gazing up at her aged face. "Rabastan has got a little cold. That's a potion that is going to make him all better. Understand?"
It took a moment to sink in. So no one was hurting him, but he was sick like I'd thought. "A little cold?"
"Yes." She gave a nod of her head. "It's nothing for you to get worried about." Madame Mossiuer drew a kerchief from her deep orange robes and wiped the tears from my eyes. "He's just got a sniffle, nothing more."
Her words put me at ease then, but it wasn't just a sniffle. No it was far much more. Rabastan had a mild case of infant pneumonia, which he overcame a few days after my worry spell, but not before it got worse.
That night Mere came home. Pere lived at the school during the school year, so he wouldn't be home for a full month, when Spring Break came. I met her at the front door, the same way I always did and she hugged me and picked me up, cradling me with her thin arms and walked to the nursery asking me how my day went.
"Did you have any stories read to you?"
"Yes. One about a dragon and a wizard." I spilled into the story of Leo Black and how he'd helped defeat the dragons that used to inhabit Wales in the 1100's. My parents always had an interest in the goings on in my life. Later I would wish that these interests weren't there but for now I was happy that she was holding me and that I was getting attention. I didn't tell her that I knew that Rabastan was sick, even at the young age of three I knew that it was something I shouldn't know. Something that wasn't to be discussed with or around me. We entered the nursery and Madame Mossiuer nodded her head to mother and she put me down and walked over to the corner of the room, discussing something with her in a hushed voice. I walked over to Rabastan's crib and peered through the bars at him. He lay awake, dark blue eyes glancing about.
"He's warm….very warm." Madame Mossiuer whispered.
Rabastan sneezed.
"Coughing like crazy a few minutes ago."
Another sneeze followed by a cough.
"Was it serious?" Mere hissed.
More coughing, this time Rabastan shook and sputtered.
They both turned around, looking through into the crib. They turned back about and continued to talk, but this time I could pick up no words and each kept glancing back at the crib every few seconds.
Rabastan began to cough, loudly for a baby and Mere suddenly realized that I was in the room. She bustled over and pushed me out the door in a matter of seconds, shutting and locking it in my face. The last thing I saw before I was shut out of my brother's life was Madame Mossiuer picking him up as he spit out some flemmy substance.
Never did I leave that door. I remained standing outside of it and about half an hour later, Mere emerged, dashing down the hall to the kitchen and the fireplace. Madame Mossiuer followed her, carrying a bundle of blankets that I guessed to be Rabastan. "Come on Rodolphus." She grabbed me by the upper arm with her free hand and drug me down the hall after her. When we arrived in the kitchen Mere was standing in front of the fireplace, traveling cloak on and the head of a middle aged woman was in the green flames.
"Infant pneumonia?" The woman asked. "Oh dear. Come on in Madame Lestrange we will have a room ready." She was a stout little woman. Sickeningly cheery with rosy cheeks. Her accent wasn't French either, it sounded odd. Very different. It amazed me how different she sounded and I wanted to ask Mere where we were going and who the woman was but she took Rabastan from Madame Mossiuer and threw a handful of floo powder in the fire seconds after the woman's head disappeared. Stepping in she muttered something but I couldn't hear her for there were too many questions buzzing around in my head. Who was that woman? Where did they just go? What was wrong with Rabastan? I felt a bony hand enclose around my arm and looked up to see Madame Mossiuer smiling flakily down at me.
"Come on Rodolphus. Take my hand and don't let go. Understand?"
I nodded and she led me over to the fireplace and picked up a handful of powder. "Don't breath this in ok? And don't say anything either."
Again I nodded. Madame shakily threw a handful of powder into the red fire which quickly turned green. "Come on." She pulled me in with her and I felt the flames licking at my sides and my face. They were warm and I giggled inwardly at the situation. I was a master of fire! Being able to stand in it and not get burned. Madame Mossiuer's grip tightened on my hand before she said clearly, "Saint Mungo's," and I suddenly felt a jerk behind my navel and was spinning at a rapid pace. I wanted to throw up, badly. I couldn't see anything but a blur of green and I soon shut my eyes, which didn't really help my nauseous state. Suddenly we were in a brightly lit room, filled with people running about in green robes. I could see Mere at the far end of the room, handing Rabastan over to one of the people in green robes. She was the same woman from the fire in our kitchen, the one with the rosy cheeks and happy attitude. Mere was handing Rabastan over to her at the same time that I fell from the grate of the fireplace and fell to the floor.
"Come on Rodolphus. Get up." Madame Mossiuer helped me to my feet and Mere came running over as the healer disappeared with Rabastan. I felt sick and held my stomach, rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet.
"They're going to give him some potions, that should make him better." Mere stated to Madame.
"Good… good." She nodded, "Strange place this is. English right?"
Mere nodded and I didn't get a word that they were saying. She seemed to be about to burst from anticipation and worrying.
A healer came up to Madame Mossiuer and Mere, stating that they could see Rabastan in a few minutes time after the charms had been preformed and the potions given.
The rest of the night went by in a blur. I did throw up. Twice and was given some frothy pink fluid for my stomach.
We went to see Rabastan in a small room about an hour later. He still was very frail but didn't look half as pale as he had been before.
"He should be fine now. No worries of anything or kind. He'll have a little sniffle here and there but nothing too big." The cherry healer told Mere. Madame Mossiuer was in the background, muttering about the English and something about not being able to trust them. She had a far away look in her eyes and was rocking back and forth. She always was a little eccentric A few bits of paper work had to be filled out by Mere before we could leave. She placed Rabastan in my arms for Madame Mossiuer had fallen asleep beside me on a bench near the large fire place in the lobby.
I watched him as he lay in my arms. So tiny and frail. I made a pact then and there that I'd always take care of him. No matter what I would be there when my little brother needed me. He wouldn't get sick like this again.
We went back home through the fireplace and Rabastan and I were put to bed rather quickly but I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned, finally falling asleep in an uncomfortable position and falling into nightmares. He'd been sick and there had been nothing that I could do. I had just been drug along like a little zombie, not even trying to help. This shook me and I couldn't help but thinking that I wouldn't be able to keep the promise I'd made at Saint Mungo's. I woke up with a start, sweating and shaking. The nightmare had scared me, pushed me over the edge and rattle my young mind. I had dreamt that I was supposed to feed him the potion, but I couldn't because I didn't know how to brew it. So Rabastan turned into a toad and hopped out the window.
I crawled from my bed and crept down the hall to the nursery. Mere had already gone to bed and Madame home . There was a two way looking glass mounted on the right hand wall in Rabastan's room. Another one just like it resided in my parents' room. It was a way that they could see him when they couldn't be in the room. It carried sound as well as sight, so I crept quietly into the room and stared at him for a while. It was late, nearing midnight. His breathing was soft as he slept on his back with his little hand curled round a blue blanket. I watched him for the longest time as the shadows danced around the room. The moon shone brightly through the open window and I took some comfort in knowing that the big celestial ball was watching over my brother too. I decided that if I'd do my best to keep my promise. He'd never fall into such sickness again, not as long as his big brother was there. Not as long I had to watch him go through things like that.
I grew sleepy, soon falling asleep beside his crib where I slept until morning when Mere came in to find me there.
Rabastan stayed a little on the sick side until he was five and I was seven; always getting a real sniffle here and there, but I was always there. Sitting up with him late at night when he had fits of throwing up or running to get a tissue when his nose ran or he sneezed. I made it a point to always be there, keep my promise to myself and to him.
