The Ones who Got Away
Boris remembered the farm best, out of all his siblings. As oldest, it probably should have been expected. Though, Tatyana at a year younger seemed to recall very little about that farm. She didn't remember the wide and open expanses of malachite and azure; she didn't recall the baying of goats or the smell of burning wood and she didn't remember the games they used to play with their cousins, she didn't - she didn't seem to recall anything.
He'd complained about that once to her, on their way to Hogwarts. Delicate features pointed in her vexation, she'd argued, "That's not true! I remember the hound we kept tied up outside!"
That hound hadn't even been theirs. It had belonged to Aunt Sophie's family. Once, he tried quizzing Ellen about the farm, she recalled more than Tatyana, but she hadn't really given him a clear idea on what she did remember and what she didn't.
She'd been too distracted. Distracted by that scum, Greg. Teeth grinding in distaste, Boris felt cold righteousness fill his breast. He'd been right in the end, Greg had first raised a thug son who brought himself a swift end and then he'd showed himself to be little better by finding his boy's killer and torturing him with a forbidden curse before killing him.
He might have felt sorry for Ellen, if he hadn't expected her husband to show his true colors eventually. He'd said that to her, once, a few years after her husband's incineration. Never had his sister looked so furious before. She might not have had a wand, but he had no doubt the smarting his backside had gotten as he was chased from her home was a an unsaid stinging hex.
Boris hadn't seen Ellen more than twice since that day.
His other siblings, though...
Tatyana came by often enough, she'd never married, never kept a man and lived with a squib roommate, Dandelion (or was it Dandy? He couldn't remember which one was the nickname any longer). She was the real link in the family; she kept up with all of them and shared what she knew about the others with whomever she was visiting. The next sibling Boris saw most often was his brother, Earl.
He came by once in a blue moon and welcomed him and all his children and grandchildren into his home with open arms. Unlike most of their family, Earl didn't seem to mind a crowd. Or maybe, it was just these days he liked seeing everyone, liked feeling close to them - what, with his daughter being dead and all. It was such a shame about that girl Boris had to say. She'd been a fine example of Slytherin. Sascha had socialized well and married even better.
Not like prickly Irene. She'd been a Slytherin, just like her niece, but instead of using it to her advantage, she'd sulked her way through her school years and went on to work at the ministry for a few years before dropping out of the wizarding world all together. Last he heard, she'd married some muggle man and had a son. He was pretty sure the boy's name was Pete. Pete Pettibridge - or, well, it sounded sort of like that.
Boris's mind had been going for the past couple years. His wife fretted about it, but not Boris. No. He'd given up on worrying about it. Instead, he just liked to write everything down. Most of his time was spent doing just that, these days. If he wasn't jotting down some memory in his notebook, he was keeping a list of songs he'd heard on the radio and liked well enough that he might want to see about asking his nephews to play for him the next time he went to see them.
"Grandpa!"
Swiveling in his desk chair, he opened his arms to the girl. Lucinda was his second son, Hank's, youngest daughter. He had two more at Hogwarts, both with aspirations to be aurors.
Good for 'em, he thought. The world could do with a couple more of those.
Hugging the little girl, he brought her up on his knee and gave her a bit of candy from the jar he kept on his desk.
"How's my favorite granddaughter doing, eh?" he asked her.
Sucking on her stick of candy, caramel eyes studied him closely. Finally, with a popping sound, she took the candy away from her lips and said, "I'm alright, but Mummy's head was botherin' her again; so, Daddy came by for lunch an' brought me here!"
"I see..." Boris replied. Damn that woman, he thought fleetingly. Eloise barely got out of bed these days. He suspected it wasn't her head that was bothering her - or at least it wasn't in the way of physical pains. He really ought to insist Hank check her in at St. Mungo's or something.
Tiny, butterfly ring adorned fingers traced the scribbles in Boris's book. "Grandpa," Lucinda said, "will y'tell me one of your stories again?"
Settling back, Boris wrapped an arm around the little girl and asked, "What story would you like?"
"Tell me about Great Auntie Tatyana's sortin' again, I really like that one."
Stroking her hair fondly, Boris mused that this one might be the one that his sister took home. Lucinda loved her great aunt more strongly than any of her other niece or nephews ever had - even more than Devlin. And that one had been the apple of Tatyana's eye.
In a few years, he could see her spending her summers with her aunt over her parents. Boris felt badly for his son in that way, he was going to lose his baby, but it was better he lost her to family over one of those "social" groups.
Kissing her head, he whispered, "Of course, my pet."
"Mm…" the child mumbled as she settled into his girth, caramel eyes focused on his chin; once or twice they flickered with impatience. She was getting tired of waiting, but, Boris's memory wasn't what it once was and he needed to read what he wrote to get it right...
-v-v-v-v-v-
On the train, Boris sent one last wave to his parents who stood on the platform with the rest of his siblings before turning to his wide-eyed sister. "You better find a compartment now, if you don't want to have to walk in on a bunch of strangers!" he informed her as he tightened his old on his trunk.
"Wait..." Tatyana murmured, "You and I aren't sitting together?"
He wrinkled his nose and made a derisive noise. "I got mates! Why would I want to sit with you?"
Her eyes narrowing, the younger's features seemed to sharpen to a needlepoint. "Why would you want to sit with me? How about because if you don't, I'm going to start sobbing right here, Boris. I'm very confident from the look of the children who've been loading this train that they will come to my aid." Tapping her chin, she gave her older brother a fierce grin.
"I bet they'd believe every word that leaves my mouth too, don't you think?"
Face very hot and feeling quite forced-upon, Boris grabbed his sister's hand and led her down the corridor. "Alright, alright," he grumbled.
Eventually, he found a compartment with one of his friends. It was Michael Diggory, a boy just a year above himself who'd been very kindly in showing Boris the ropes of Hogwarts. Smiling as he stepped into the small room, he gave the third year a wave. "Hullo!"
"Hello, yourself!" The other smiled as he put aside the cat he'd been playing with. "Who've you brought with you, here?" he asked, eyeing Tatyana with a curious quirk of his brow.
"Erm-"
"I am Tatyana," she told the boy, giving him a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you!"
Grinning at her, Michael gave it a strong shake and replied, "Right back at you."
Settling down in the seat from across from him, Boris had to hold back a roll of his eyes as his sister squished against his side. Really, why was she so scared? Hogwarts was the best!
No one knew he was the first in his family's memory to attend Hogwarts, Boris had gotten away with telling people he'd grown up in Hogsmeade over Knockturn Alley (even though he'd never set foot anywhere besides his family's old farm and Knockturn before he left for Hogwarts) and when he said his dad worked at a potions shop, they'd accepted without a fact that this would mean he'd be better than most at potions. Of course, that meant Boris was made to spend his first several weeks at Hogwarts putting effort into getting ahead in the class, but he hadn't minded. He'd do anything to fit in. Anything to appear just like every other first year Gryffindor in his year and those before him.
And if Tatyana played her cards right, she could have an experience here that would be just as charming.
Eyes darting between them, Michael remarked, "You two don't look much alike, do you?"
"No, I suppose I took mostly after my mother's side of the family and Tatyana looks very much like a young version of our aunt Regina - our father's sister."
Crossing her arms, Tatyana grumbled, "Don't say I look like aunt Regina! She talks to trees!"
It made Boris's friend chuckle and he gave his sister an approving nod. If she kept up this attitude, she'd have a great deal of mates in no time! "Doesn't change the fact you look like her," he insisted.
"Ha, ha," Tatyana muttered, the conversation dying once again.
Michael, who really didn't care for awkward silences, cleared his throat and asked the most important question of all. "What house do you think you'll be in, Tatyana?"
"I don't know. I'd like to be in a nice one, though."
The oldest pushed back his brown bangs and remarked, "I suppose you're thinking of Hufflepuff, eh? My sister's in that house and she's always got a friend with her wherever she goes."
"Yes, you're right. I was considering Gryffindor too, but my brother's there and who'd want to be in the same house as him?" Tatyana teased, eyes sparkling with mirth.
Boris could play along, he decided.
"You're the one who has the disgusting habit of chewing off your fingernails and spitting them on the floor, I can't imagine what your roommates are going to do to you when they catch you in action," he countered.
Warming up to the game, Tatyana argued, "Sleep-talking's worse, Boris."
"It's not disgusting!"
"Well, at least it doesn't wake people up at three in the morning!"
Watching them volley, Michael remarked, "He's that loud, eh? I'm surprised the firsties never said anything last year if your sister could hear you from her room."
Blinking at Michael, Tatyana furrowed her pencil-line brows and started "My room? We sh-"
"The walls are thin," Boris broke in, earning a nasty glare from his younger sister as she let her fingers go to her side - his elbow having jabbed her ribs a second before.
Michael only looked further befuddled as he nodded his head, "Ah, right."
They were saved from more talking, though; because a knock came from the door and a moment later the lady with the trolley was peaking in with a smile. "Anything to eat, young sirs? Miss?"
Michael dug into his pocket. "A Pumpkin Pasty, please," he said offering the correct amount of change to the middle-aged woman.
Boris touched his own pocket. He had enough for a Liquorice Wand and he almost asked for one, but then he saw how his sister was gazing longingly at the Jelly Slugs. He'd saved some of his money from his birthday last month for this, but Tatyana...she'd not known about the express. Or the candy. Sighing, Boris told the pleasant-looking woman, "A package of Jelly Slugs, please."
Handing them to him, she watched as he indulgently handed one of the pair right off to his sister.
"A good brother, you are," she praised before taking her leave.
Tatyana favored him with a smile before sinking her teeth into the treat.
And thankfully, for the rest of the trip to Hogwarts she amused herself with staring out the window and listening to Michael and he talk familiars, (it was Boris's greatest wish to get an owl).
-v-v-v-v-v-
Parting wasn't difficult for Boris, but even as the first years were being beckoned away from the crowd of returning Hogwarts students, Tatyana clung to his arm. Dark eyes much too large for her petite features, she clung to the hem of his sleeve and demanded, "How do I get in Hufflepuff?"
"You don't get to choose, you know? The hat puts you where it thinks you ought to be!" He explained while trying to shake her off.
Lip quivering, his little sister clung tighter. "Boris..." she hissed, "You've got to know something! How did you get into Gryffindor?"
"Oh you'll find out! Just get off me and hurry! Those boats don't wait around for forever!" he snapped at her.
Shaking off his sister once and for all, he ignored her choked cries and hurried to catch up with Michael and a few of his yearmates. Tatyana was going to be fine, he knew. After all, he had been!
-v-v-v-v-v-
Watching student after student go up to the stool, Boris kept an avid ear open for his sister's name. About halfway through the sorting, he heard them call for Tatyana and so, curious, he watched her shuffle up to the stool.
Unlike most children who'd breezed up with far too much confidence, Tatyana walked a wavering line; features drawn the fingernails of one hand caught between her teeth. The professor - Dumbledore - gave his sister a gentle encouragement with a quick touch of his hand to the seat of the stool when she paused before it and did not sit.
"That's your sister, right?" one of his classmates asked him in a whisper.
Ears blazing, Boris nodded. "She's just easily scared 's all," he mumbled back.
"What she scared for?" Percilla Brown demanded with a quirk of her head.
Boris pulled his lips in a thin line and watched as Tatyana carefully placed herself down on the stool, he took in how Dumbledore gave her a moment to take her hand out of her mouth and place it in her lap before he let the sorting hat slip over her crown.
The hat sat atop her head for ten seconds, then twenty more, thirty plus and just as it seemed that it may go on to hit the two minute mark, the hat boomed,
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Distantly, he heard a Gryffindor grumble, "It took it that long to sort a Hufflepuff?"
If Boris hadn't been so relieved to see his sister sorted at all, he may have turned on that insensitive prick and given him a good word about watching what he said because that's his little sister he was talking about!
Stumbling away from the stool, Tatyana looked dazed and may have stood there a good deal longer if the Transfiguration professor didn't nudge her toward her clapping and hooting table. Boris clapped too, because it was his sister, but he wondered, just what had gone on between her and the hat?
-v-v-v-v-v-
"What went on between Auntie Tatyana an' the hat, Grandpa?" Lucinda questioned, her face stained pink from her candy (now long gone).
Resting a heavy hand atop her red-gold halo, Boris remarked, "You know, I never did ask. I guess that's always been part of the magic of the sorting hat. You don't know about its dealings except for the one it had with you."
Considering this, Lucinda began to play with the buttons on his shirt. Boris had always liked having a child in his lap, despite their pointy elbows and knees once they grew out of toddler-hood, there was something comforting about them. How they were so warm, how they would snuggle closer and drop off to sleep without a care in the world because they trusted you so fully to never let them go. Boris liked children, in simplest terms and that was why he and the wife had so many.
It ended up being a bit of a stretch money-wise, especially after he added Irene to his list of children to put through Hogwarts, but he'd never regretted it. They'd all shaped up to be fine members of society more or less - even Talia. And she'd left her husband after seven years of marriage to live in a one room flat to breed and sell toads. That girl had always been the quirky one, though.
A tiny hand gave his beard a tug.
Looking down, he saw his dear granddaughter gazing up with her eyes very solemn. "Yes, my dear?" he questioned politely.
"D'you think Auntie Tatyana would tell y'how she got sorted to Hufflepuff if y'asked?" she demanded.
Blinking, Boris didn't have an answer. Would she? Maybe. Meeting the little girl's serious gaze, he told her, "I don't rightly know, but I'll ask for you if I see her first, okay?"
Hugging him around the neck, the girl gave a happy squeal. "You're the bestest, Grandpa!"
"Thank you, dear," he replied.
Boris would be the first to admit he took well to flattery. His wife knew it too and over the years (along with his daughters) had figured out that was the best way to convince him that yes, they absolutely did need that new robe/skirt/hat. He really didn't mind, in the end. Being an owlet trainer did pay quite handsomely, after all. If they needed a bit of extra cash to cover expenses, he always just had to take on another owl - or two - to train occasionally.
Patting the little girl's bum, he remarked, "You should go see if your grandma wants any help in the kitchen, Lucinda."
"Okay, Grandpa," the child agreed, already scrabbling down from his lap and running for the door of his study.
Watching her leave, Boris considered sending his sister a letter. He could ask her to come over tomorrow if he so chose, that way. But, knowing Tatyana, she'd be by his place before the week was even over. He should surely have the patience to last that long - and so should Lucinda.
But...
Grabbing a piece of parchment, Boris began to write.
-v-v-v-v-v-
Seated across from one another in the kitchen, Boris didn't think to say much at all as they sipped at their tea and ate the biscuits his wife had laid out before leaving to do her afternoon sitting of Hugh's twins, Marcel and Marian. Their poor mother, Bethany, had a bit of postpartum blues and getting a break from the babies helped her quite a bit.
Tatyana, her face still fine even in her old age, twitched. "What made you write that I come today, Boris?" she inquired just a bit too sharply as she set aside her half-empty cup of tea.
Absently, Boris stroked his beard. "Write...? Oh yes, I wrote a letter for you to come," he murmured.
"I know you're not that forgetful yet, so don't think you can pull the wool over my eyes, you old goat," Tatyana sniped. "I was planning to go on a picnic with Dandelion today, before you wrote me, anyway."
Smirking despite himself, the elder remarked, "A picnic? With your flat mate? Sometimes I just don't understand you, my dear."
"We're very good friends, after all these years of living together," Tatyana muttered.
Nodding, Boris agreed, "I can only image, sister. As for why I insisted you come today, it's not so much for me as it is for Lucinda. You remember her, don't you? She's quite fond of you."
"Lucinda...Hank's youngest?" She questioned with only a tad bit of uncertainty.
Boris grinned. "That's a girl," he praised, "Some days I wished my memory was as sharp as yours. I know I embarrass Hector's oldest three sons greatly because I'm always mixing them up with Ophelia's two boys, Roger and Maxim."
"I always told you to eat your parsnips," Tatyana sniffed. "But no! You said they tasted like feet and put them on my plate instead!"
Laughing jovially, Boris touched his beard again and said, "You really ought to come by more on the weekends - that's when the kids are here mostly. I know Lucinda would adore it if you did."
The woman gave a shifty look to the world outside the tall windows to the left of their table. "I'll try," she replied without any real conviction. Boris knew that's when she liked to visit Ellen and her sons.
"Anyway, about why I wrote you to come today. I thought I should get you over before I forget - Lucinda had a question for me, she wanted to know what went on between you and the snorting hat."
Blinking quickly, Tatyana sputtered, "What do you mean 'went on' between me and the hat?"
"You know! When you were sorted! What did you - oh, why on earth would you think I would mean it like that?"
Well-lined face a smarting pink, Tatyana reached for her teacup and drained it. "I don't-" shaking her head, she rubbed at the spot between her eyes and asked, "Why does she need to know? She's not due for Hogwarts for another - five? Six? years."
"Like I've told you, she quite likes you. I imagine she wants to make sure she'll get to be in the same house as well," Boris explained as he grabbed a biscuit to munch on.
Her eyes becoming liquid sugar, the woman smiled. "She really is a dear, isn't she?"
"Lucinda is the only one I call my favorite granddaughter," he admitted around a bite of biscuit. "Her sisters are good, strong girls, but they just aren't -" he gave a circular wave of his hand, "Oh, I don't know! The girls just aren't her."
"She's an angel in disguise, eh?"
Boris gave a resolute bob of his head. "That she is," he concurred.
They both let silence come between them for a moment, both thinking of other angels they'd met while living their lives.
"So, how'd you end up in Hufflepuff?" he asked again after he'd let his tea go cold in its cup.
An amused twist coming to her lips, Tatyana shrugged. "Truthfully? I just chanted Hufflepuff in my head until it gave up trying to talk to me and screamed it for everyone to hear," she admitted.
Squinting at his little sister, Boris made a noise of doubt. Leaning in, the woman muttered, "No, really, Boris! That's how I did it!" Laughing next, she remarked, "That's not even the interesting part of the story! The best part is how I managed to survive it! You might not think it now, brother dear, but I was quite the crafty girl. My roommates thought I was catty and rude for my whole first quarter!"
Boris felt guilty; he hadn't realized..."Did they now?" He said without really saying much at all.
Old eyes twinkling with the light of memories, the woman's fingers went to play with the ring she wore around her left hand ring finger. "They did, Boris, but really, I wouldn't have changed it for the world...Do you want to know why, brother dear? It was because that's how Dandy and I became friends."
Sudden urge to record what's to be said absorbing him, Boris's fingers spasmed and he wrapped his fingers around the wand he kept on his belt. "Just a minute, Tatyana, let me get some paper and a quill..."
Amused tilt to her pencil-line brows, his sister mumbled, "You're going to write down how Dandy and I became friends?"
"For Lucinda, she'll love it," Boris insisted as he levitated some parchment to the table from the counter over yonder.
Laughing, the woman put up a hand, "Alright, alright...you ready? Then this is how our story begins..."
-v-v-v-v-v-
Tatyana wasn't doing too well. Her roommates thought she was a prick who lived to make them look dumb and call them ugly. But really, was it her fault she'd spent the majority of the summer reading her brother's old textbooks? One of her roommates she knew for certain had an older sister, but Tatyana also knew she hadn't touched her sister's first year textbooks either.
Why was that though? Was there a rule?
Maybe it was one of those unsaid ones, like the rule Mumma had about going near horses. It had something to do with one of her uncles, she knew, there was a story she'd heard in snippets about a great-uncle who'd been kicked by a horse in the head as a little boy and forevermore had a dent in his head, a forgetfulness that left him incapable of taking care of himself lest he set fire to his home, an inability to speak without slurring everything and a wild temper that showed itself in great explosions that caused things to rattle and shake and fall.
Tatyana suspected he was a wizard, because of the last thing, but as he'd been damaged too young, there had been no chance of him ever getting any learning like her mumma.
And really, how was she supposed to know telling Betsy Higglebottom that her wearing her hair down made her face look fat would be taken as an insult? She and Ellen had criticized each other's looks openly. Never ever had she lied to her sister and told her that what she'd done with her hair made her look "sweet" as Ruth Nicholson had done with Betsy. Even Tatyana's mother had been honest. When she thought Tatyana had been putting on too much weight last year around Christmas, she told her so.
She'd accepted that, yes, she'd been taking too many seconds at dinner and told her mumma she'd stop so she wouldn't become a Roly Poly of a girl.
But these girls! They acted as if she'd insulted one of their mothers!
It just wasn't fair, she'd thought.
From her spot in the Hufflepuff common rooms, Tatyana had sniveled surreptitiously into her cloak and cast a look around at the many older students still talking and doing work around her. Most of the younger students had already gone to bed - it being curfew for them and all - but Tatyana had snuck down to the common room half an hour ago and claimed a chair in the shadows as her own. If she didn't make too much noise, she bet she could stay here all night. Away from her roommates who whispered and giggled well into the night without ever so much as acknowledging her presence.
However, despite feeling she was doing an excellent job of keeping quiet, an upper year girl approached Tatyana. Crouching down in front of her, the girl, a plump, piercing-eyed teenager asked, "Having a tough time, poppet?"
Incapable of holding in how miserable she was, Tatyana nodded her head and let tears fall from her eyes. "Uh-huh," she replied. "My dormmates hate me!"
Giving her a sympathetic smile, the nice girl gave her thigh a gentle pat. "How terrible," she tittered. "Do you know why?" she asked.
Tatyana, feeling very stingy, said darkly, "They don't work on logic."
This drew a rather spritely laugh from the plump teenager. "Oh?" she replied. "I'm sorry to say, poppet, very few eleven year old girls do."
Lip wobbling, Tatyana admitted, "I wanna go home. My mumma could teach me instead and maybe my sisters or brother could come and try Hogwarts out instead in a couple years."
Furrowing her brow in thought, the girl that Tatyana didn't know the name of yet, tapped at her dimpled chin with a thick finger. "If I could give you a friend, would you stay at Hogwarts?" she asked her.
Tatyana nodded eagerly. If she had a friend, at least she wouldn't be so alone. "Yes!" she happily exclaimed. "A friend would be wicked!"
Smiling in satisfaction, the teenager said, "I have a sister, Dandy, she's a squib. This year she would have gone to Hogwarts and is a bit put out about it. She's been very afraid that she'll be all alone her whole life because she can't go to Hogwarts like me. If I gave you my address, how would you like to write Dandelion and be her friend?"
That wasn't exactly what Tatyana wanted, another letter-friend like her sister and brother, but she knew it was best not to stick her nose up at the offer.
So, putting on a beaming grin, she agreed. "I'd love to write and be friend's with Dandy!"
A relieved expression overtaking the older girl's features she reached out and took Tatyana in a gleeful embrace. "Oh, what a good girl you are! Thank you!"
Hugging her back briefly, Tatyana pulled away. Studying the teen for a moment, she questioned, "Since I'm gonna be your sister's letter-friend, will you be my meal friend? It's awfully lonely having nobody to sit and talk to at breakfast and stuff."
"Oh yes, it's the least I can do," the teenager agreed. Putting out her hand then, she said, "It's a pleasure to be your friend, I'm Samantha."
Taking the hand, Tatyana shook it firmly just as Boris had taught her to do and replied, "The same to you, Samantha! I'm Tatyana."
Ten minutes later, Samantha and Tatyana were seated at a table, bent close together as they carefully crafted Tatyana's first of many letters to Dandy.
-v-v-v-v-v-
"I never realized…" Boris murmured. "I always figured she must have been related to a student, but for you to have known her so long...that's simply astounding!"
Steepling her fingers in front of her on the table between them, Tatyana shook her head at her brother. "It's really not," she disagreed. "It was pure luck, is all. Samantha took a chance on me, believing that our loneliness would call out to one another. It did, much to her relief, but if I'd been on better terms with my dormmates...Well, sometimes I highly doubt we'd be as close as we are."
Boris just smiled. "Always so modest," he murmured. "Just wait until Lucinda hears about this! She'll want a pen pal all her own…"
This made Tatyana raise an eyebrow. "Where will you find her one?" she asked.
The old man shrugged and stroked his beard as he read over his notes. "I don't rightly know, but I believe I'll find her one somehow. She's such a dear one, you know," he murmured as the scritch-scratching carried on the void left by the end of his sentence
"I do," the woman replied after a while. "Now, brother, if you will excuse me, I'd quite like to get home for that picnic!"
Distractedly, he waved her off. "Go on," he mumbled, "Don't let me hold you back."
Nodding, as she left, Tatyana murmured, "If only you always thought so…"
I've been meaning to get this, another installment of The Inhabitants of Knockturn Alley, out for quite some time (not that you have to read the others to get this one). I'm happy to say FF being on the fritz the other day is what had me finish the draft of the second half of this story. So, hopefully before the month is over, you'll see the last half of Boris and Tatyana's story.
Thanks for reading and please review :)
