1233-1234

The youngest of three brothers, he was at the same time similar to and quite different from his siblings.

At 25, Antioch was the image of his father, in face and temperament. Neither of them was interested in subduing the muggle world but both were strong wizards, always desiring more power. Mrs Peverell's subtle encouragements to settle down had gone unnoticed, the young man steadfastly ignored the attentions of some of the more adoring village girls who tried to catch his eye each time he stirred out of doors.

Cadmus was 22 years old and took strongly after his mother, perhaps not in physical appearance, but in his character. His magical powers may well have been considered as equal to Antioch's if not indeed superior. However he was a sensitive child and very easily swayed by his emotions. He was extremely susceptible to flattery and his parents were forever concerned that an unscrupulous woman could easily take advantage of his sympathetic nature.

Ignotus was a happy combination of both. He recognised the usefulness of magic but saw no reason to grasp for what could be obtained only through force or combat and, while not a cold or unfeeling boy, he was not prey to his thoughts.

It was clear to even the most casual observer that Mr and Mrs Peverell were very fond of all of their children but it was chiefly the two elder boys who occupied the greater part of their concerns. This is not to say that young Ignotus felt himself disregarded or overlooked, he was happy in his independence.

Antioch and Cadmus had forever been in a hurry, wanting to acquire knowledge without devoting any time to actual learning. They had decided that they no longer required their tutor, Ignotus however was very fond of the old gentleman who had taken such pains to educate them, not only in the basics of reading, writing and arithmetic but had also shared with them his extensive magical experience. When lessons were concluded for that day, he would often take himself off either to read in the family library if the weather were foul or walk through the picturesque village if the weather were fair.

One morning, Ignotus had promised his mother to call on Mr Hopkins, the Godric's Hollow apothecary, to collect some remedies for the recurring headaches which plagued her and Cadmus. Entering the shop, he saw Clovis working in the back room. Ignotus remembered when the man had arrived with his brother-in-law and daughter. Clovis and Yvan were able to communicate in English, albeit brokenly and with a heavy accent, but the girl spoke not one word of the language. In fact, reflected Ignotus, he did not recall ever having heard the girl speaking at all.

She was five years younger than him and still as wary of her neighbours as the day she arrived. He knew of her rather than knew her as she never seemed to stir out of doors but stayed hidden away. It was weeks before he even learned her name.

It quickly became clear to Angharad that her father and uncle had been planning their escape for some time. They had managed to secure a home and, for Clovis at least, a job. After years of running his own apothecary single handed, it was a blow to be spending his days as though he were an ignorant apprentice. Mr Hopkins was a kind man and although he could not afford to pay Clovis a large salary, the small amount he could pay was just enough to put food on the table.

Thankfully, magic had meant that they could bring many of their belongings with them, full trunks shrunk to fit in their pockets. Angharad had been dismayed on seeing their new house for the first time. Grubby, cracked windows, an inch of dust on every surface, uneven floors, a dark narrow staircase and chimneys which were long overdue a good sweeping. They had set to work and in a few days, the house began to feel more like home.

More than anything, Angharad missed the people from her village, Zélie in particular. She wondered where her friend was now, hopefully she had survived but the scraps of news they had heard from France were not encouraging. Nothing in Godric's Hollow was familiar and while there were plenty of children of Angharad's age, there was the language barrier. Her father was attempting to teach her some basic English but on the few occasions she had tried to speak it, the inability to make herself understood was so disappointing that she simply stopped trying. It didn't help that she was outgrowing her clothes and that they had no money to replace them. Even purchasing food enough for the three of them was becoming difficult, until Yvan took up employment with a local farmer.

Farmer Gregg, a cheerful muggle, was delighted with his new employee who was just as happy sitting in a dry barn as out in a field in the pouring rain. Somehow since his arrival, the cows yielded more milk, there were more eggs than usual to be collected every morning and the fleeces of his prized sheep were of such high quality that they fetched a better price at market than those of his closest rival. As he kept saying to his wife at the end of the day over a foaming tankard of ale, it was just like magic.

Having made his purchases, Ignotus turned to leave the apothecary and nearly collided with Angharad. Their eyes met for the briefest moment, dark sapphire eyes looking up into hazel brown ones.

The girl mumbled something inaudibly and almost ran behind the counter and out of sight. Ignotus stared after her. One look was all it had taken. For both of them.

-o-

Later that evening at dinner, Ignotus mentioned bumping into Angharad.

"Oh the poor dear." said his mother, rather insincerely "One might think she would take greater care."

"She should certainly take care of her appearance." snorted Antioch. "Looks like she's been dragged through a hedge most of the time."

"It's very sad." murmured Cadmus tearfully "The loss of her mother and then being forced to flee her home. Very sad indeed." He sniffed and wiped his eyes on his shirt sleeve, while his father rolled his eyes at the display.

Angharad was no fool. She was perfectly aware of what the more unkind members of the local population thought of her, even if she couldn't fully understand what they were saying. She had always been handy with a needle and thread and so had managed to make do and mend many of her outfits; turning fabric inside out, cutting up some spoiled dresses to make new ones; but there comes a point when the cloth is simply too old and faded to be put to any use.

When not taking excellent care of Farmer Gregg's flocks, foxes and wolves did not dare approach his lands these days, Yvan still loved to invent. He didn't seem to mind that the neighbours called him Crazy Yvan. Ignotus was keen to make his acquaintance, not only in the hope of meeting Angharad, but also because he had a creative mind as well.

He was walking past Angharad's house when there was a muffled explosion from inside. A small hand opened an upstairs window and he heard a laugh and a sweet voice "Mais tonton, je t'avais bien dit que ça n'allait pas marcher!*"

"Bah. Tant pis! Une autre fois? On ne peut pas gagner à tous les coups!**" Yvan replied cheerfully.

Ignotus stood as though transfixed. No music he had ever heard was as beautiful as Angharad's laughter.

*"But uncle, I told you it wouldn't work!"

**"Oh well, never mind. Another time? You can win every time!"