A/N Happy Solstice, have some Equinox. I will also be doing typo-grammar fixes on books 20-22 over the next few weeks.

Chapter Ten

Devian Nyle

Beth exhaled, wondering how she got herself into this as she hovered on her broom over the Coventry estate, waiting for her father to leave the house for the day.

"Don't think of it as breaking into your own house," Maurice had told her at lunch that weekend. "Think of it as Devian Nyle, infiltrating her uncle's house to save the school from certain doom."

"Devian Nyle," Beth murmured to herself. "Great, I'm a full grown witch taking cues from a teen novel."

She saw movement and became alert, watching as her father walked out past the security barrier and Disapparating. Quickly she flew to the gate, putting it away and walking in. After all, it was her own home. It wasn't as if she wasn't allowed to go back in... but she also didn't want to have to answer any unpleasant questions either.

"Good Morning, Miss Elizabeth," said their butler when she walked through the entry hall. He was in the parlor, organizing the morning's Owl Post. "I'm afraid your father just left."

"Good morning, Mr. Tibalt. I just came to pick up some things. Do you know when the next Collection Society meeting is?"

"Thursday next, I believe, Miss Elizabeth. Were you planning to attend?" the butler asked curiously.

"Well, as long as my father doesn't start pressuring me for a change in relationships, I will. Considering the extent of my father's investments in collecting magical artifacts, I really ought to learn what it's going to take to manage it. I don't suppose he'd mind if I strolled about the display rooms?"

"I will show you in, Miss Elizabeth, but I do believe the House Elves are in there dusting today," Tibalt said.

"I don't mind," Beth said, the two of them walking back.

"I hope you aren't truly estranged from your father over your suitor, Miss Elizabeth. Parents are always concerned about such things, especially ones with influence," Tibalt said.

"It isn't as if I was scraping the gutter for one. The Craws may not have the money we do, but they're still in our social class... and they have greater influence than we do. I think I've done very well for myself, actually," Beth said, a little annoyed that she was still having this conversation even with her father not being at home.

"Yes, that's true," Tibalt admitted. Beth gazed at him thoughtfully, but he was busy with the five entry keys that led into the display rooms. "May I speak frankly, Miss Elizabeth?"

"Of course," Beth said.

"Your father was born into his wealth, social class, and influence, and he was taught how to handle it and maintain it, but not how to propagate it. But in recent years, that hasn't been enough; he finds his own influence dwindling while Malfoy, Craw, and Snape, who have all paid for their influence in blood, are the ones with all the power. He doesn't understand it. He sees the missteps and tragedies that they experienced fighting their way to the top as their inherent flaws and a representation of who they are, not something they had to overcome. They are their worst selves, and he simply doesn't understand why he... who hasn't done anything except maintain the family fortune... is losing so much ground against those who have behaved with less scruples on more than one occasion. He's followed every law, his worst sin is adultery and he well knows it, and he has showered his family with every advantage. Yet every day that passes his influence decreases, regardless of how much money he throws at things. But I believe you do understand it, Miss Elizabeth, else you wouldn't have pursued a Craw to begin with."

"What makes you think I pursued him instead of the other way around?" Beth said, feeling her temperature rise.

"You had more to gain by it, Miss Elizabeth, and you are both quite practical," Tibalt said.

"Yes, we are," Elizabeth said thoughtfully. "Usually, anyway. Thank you for letting me in."

"Of course, Miss Elizabeth. Just ring if you need anything else," Tibalt said and went towards the kitchen.

Exhaling, Elizabeth strode past the busts in the first hall, wondering whether to go right or left from there. She began searching the countless displays, despite the fact that she was quite sure it wasn't there. Something as powerful as the spinning wheel or distaff would have to be hidden; the current Ministry would be unlikely to allow her father to keep something like that, and all of the ones being showcased had all the proper paperwork filled out. Still, she knew that Maurice probably wouldn't be satisfied unless they ruled it out completely.

She walked through all the rooms and perused the display cases, stopping every now and then to read the plaque off the smaller items when she didn't know what it was. After a while, she felt like the quiet was getting to her as well as the sound of her own footsteps, wondering if she was being watched. She turned suddenly and looked at the display case at the end of the hall. Wasn't that dusty before? Now, it was freshly polished, and even the hint of lavender from a cleaning potion hung in the air. Oh, it was one of the House Elves, she realized with a chuckle. There was no reason to be nervous, it was technically her own house, after all, she told herself.

"Is there a House Elf in here?" Beth asked out loud.

"Yes, Mistress Elizabeth, Bartie is here," a girl House Elf's voice said. "Did Bartie disturb Miss Elizabeth?"

"No, I just wanting to ask something. Is dusting the collection wing your normal job?" Beth asked.

"Yes, Mistress, once a week," Bartie said.

"Do you happen to know if my father has collected any items that have anything to do with spinning wheels and that sort of thing?" Beth asked.

"There are some nice robes you might like to see on display in the Cloak Room, Mistress Elizabeth," Bartie suggested.

"I didn't mean finished garments, I meant more like spindles and wheels and distaffs and things like that," Beth explained.

"Master Abraxas doesn't collect tools, Mistress, only finished works," Bartie said solemnly.

"Of course. I should have known that," Beth sighed. "Thank you," she added before wandering towards the Cloak Room. Beth remembered from previous viewings that her father's interest in clothing in general had to do with more historic value than what charms were on them. Who had worn them was more important; and many of them were probably too recent for it to have anything to do with what Maurice was researching.

Beth began to concentrate on dates rather than names, and found herself standing in front of one of the last cases. After reading a couple of the plaques, she noted that the display featured garments from some of the members of the council when the ministry was formed. A flicker from the candles of the chandelier caused one of the gowns to sparkle momentarily, and Beth focused in on a dark purple robe in the center of the case that was embroidered with gold thread. Next to it, read the plate: Formal station gown of Edwina Wickes; Headmistress of Witanrow Reformatory, circa 1650. Beth studied it thoughtfully, attempting to remember if she had ever heard the name of that school before. She was no items expert, but she did know enough about witch garments to know that this one was enchanted, but with what sort of enchantment she wouldn't be able to tell without running checks, and she doubted she would be able to cast even identification spells through her father's security case. Still, it would probably be in written in one of his inventory books, Beth decided, standing up straight and turning with the intention of going to her father's study.

It was as she turned that she caught the glimpse of a dark stairwell in the adjacent room that was so out of place that she had to stop and turn around to stare at it. It was starkly different to all of the brightly lit white walls in the rest of the display area, and on top of that, she never remembered seeing it before. Her father had put in a secret passage? Why was it open now? That's right, the House Elves were cleaning in here, she remembered, hurrying over to the stairwell a bit afraid that they would finish before she reached it. But it remained open, and she found herself looking down a spiral staircase into a dimly lit room. She searched by the door and found an obvious lever to open the door from this side. Feeling reassured by that, Beth went down the stairs. After all, what was she doing other than exploring her own home, she reminded herself, and whatever he kept down here couldn't be as surprising as the first time that Maurice had shown her his father's "secret lab" and its surround sound television room. At the very least, Beth was quite certain it wasn't a telly, she thought with amusement, waving the lights up when she reached the bottom of the stairwell.

It was another collection of display rooms, but with much different lighting and tinted glass. Were these dark items, Beth wondered taking a breath. But that didn't make much sense, since her father was notorious for dotting every i and authenticating every signature. She went over to the case and noticed that the plaques were quite different. Instead of having a description of what they were, they had a family name, filing number, and a date. Heirloom items, she realized, and immediately went looking to see if any had the last name of Craw or Snape. But after a while, she realized that there were none, but many of the names were very familiar. They were business associates of her father's, or political acquaintances, and a few that she recognized from the society. There was also a lot more variety; candlesticks, bread boxes, letter openers, gloves, even a silverware set. With renewed interest, Beth began scouring the cases, looking for anything spinning related. But at the last case she sighed with frustration, having found nothing more than a thimble and pincushion through the entire collection.

As she began to walk back to the spiral staircase, she heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and froze in her tracks. How long had she been down there? Maybe it was just Tibalt, she thought, quickly thinking up some excuse why she had come down there before starting to walk towards the stairs again.

"Elizabeth?" came her father's voice. Gasping, she stepped back and bumped into a display, setting off lights and noises and spells while she scrambled to get away from it.

Suddenly she found a bright light in her face and felt very disoriented. She closed her eyes tightly until she finally started to adjust to it, and realized in confusion that she was in the main collection rooms.

"Goodness, Elizabeth, are you all right?" Abraxas asked anxiously.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Oh, you set off the security system and triggered the Freeze Frame. Effective way to catch burglars without harming anyone, you know, and I'm so glad I went with that option now considering you might have been hurt," Abraxas said. "Whatever were you doing down there?"

"I have no idea really," Beth admitted. "Actually, I was wandering in the collection wing to see what items you had on display when I noticed the stairwell. I'd never seen it before and was curious to what was down there. What was all of that? It doesn't look like your normal collection at all."

"Um... no," Abraxas admitted. "They are heirloom items in my safekeeping, actually, and if it's all the same, I'd rather you not mention to anyone that room is there, including to your brothers."

"But aren't they illegal?"

"Now, don't be silly, Elizabeth, you know I wouldn't keep anything illegal," Abraxas protested.

"But they have other family names on them, and I thought the heirloom act only protected items when they stayed in the hands of their original families," Beth said.

"Normally yes, but there is an exception; when an item is of significant importance and value and the family whose heirloom it is feels that they do not have adequate security to protect them, they may sell it to a court-licensed third party with facilities approved to protect the item. The third party... such as myself, is not licensed to use them but only to retain them for security purposes, with the option of returning the item to the Ministry or selling them back to a member of the family whose item it is. Generally, by the time they are able to retrieve them, the item has appreciated in value; I hold various items for investment purposes, as well as to help out fellow members of the society who need a secure place for them," Abraxas explained. Beth couldn't help but think that her father had been quoting straight from a law book somewhere.

"I see. But why would they sell them to you instead of putting them in a vault at Gringotts?" Beth asked.

"Not everyone is comfortable with putting their heirlooms in Gringott's Bank, nor would all items be welcome there," Abraxas explained.

"Why? Were some of them made during the goblin rebellions?" Beth asked.

"Probably. There were so many heirloom magical items made over such a long period of time that it's hard for older items not to correspond with one revolt or another," Abraxas shrugged. "But I doubt that is the only reason they want to keep it out of Gringott's. Some wizards simply don't trust goblins. I do have to get approval for every item before I store it, and anything offensive enough to cause a political issue ends up getting rejected or confiscated by the Ministry. Fortunately that happens before any exchange of coin, so I don't have to worry about losing any money over it. Anyway, you aren't going to tell your brothers about it, are you?"

"No, I don't see any reason why I would want to tell them. It's not really their business what's down there anymore, is it?" Beth shrugged.

"Good girl. I'd rather the two of us be the only ones who know about that room. I wonder why it was open?" he pondered.

"Perhaps it was one of the House Elves. It's their dusting day," Beth said.

"Oh? Well, perhaps, but I doubt they'd need to open the door to get down there," Abraxas said, making Beth wonder about it as well. "Anyway, were there any items you wanted to see in particular? I don't remember you ever being interested in my collection before."

"Well, Maurice is taking classes to become an items specialist, after all," Beth reminded him, her father's expression turning to one of annoyance. "An excavation specialist, as a matter of fact, whose job it is to find these sorts of magical collectibles to auction off."

"Yes, classes," Abraxas repeated impatiently. "Even if we put aside the fact that he's a member of a family of murderers, which I can't, he's still a child. Like it or not, you are an adult. Besides, he's only a sixth year and I'm sure he's probably interested in a girl closer to his age by now."

"Father, even if I wasn't in constant contact with him, I'd trust him around any girl in that school. And since I'm not changing my mind about it, I'd sooner that we not argue about it anymore. I am simply here to learn more about your collection... especially some of the fashion you have on display," Beth said firmly.

"Fashion?" Abraxas asked with interest. "Any in particular?" Apparently, he didn't want to argue about it again any more than she did. Beth got her bearings and found the room with the headmistress's robes in it.

"I'd like to know more about this one, actually," Beth said pointing it out.

"Ah! Isn't it exquisite! I won it in at an estate auction... it wasn't well advertised, but a friend tipped me off," he explained proudly. "I'm also rather glad it wasn't well advertised; I wouldn't have been able to win this one otherwise."

"Is it that special? Where is this school that's mentioned? I've never heard of it," Beth asked.

"Oh, well it's the north wing of West of Whitehall now," Abraxas explained. "That wing was once a young witch's school, one of the first established after Hogwarts and who accepted girls of a much younger age. Originally it was St. Margret's Seminary for the Blessed Arts. It was renamed Witanrow Reformatory during the Cromwell years and then became Witanrow Preparatory in the eighteen hundreds until World War I, which is when it consolidated with the wizard's school Cavaliers Preparatory... now the south wing, of course. They fought over the name when they consolidated; neither side wanted to budge, so the Ministry stepped in and gave it its current name just to stop the fighting."

"I always wondered about the silly name," Beth said.

"Well, you must remember that most wizards were quite proud of the Ministry of Magic and their brand new government back then," Abraxas explained. "Of course, times have changed," he added dryly. "Anyway, the Headmistress position was only her formal occupation. She is much better known as being an advocate for the Statute of Secrecy. Her younger sister had her wand taken from her and was burned at the stake, so she often spoke out for change."

"Oh, I see," Beth said with genuine interest. "Is this robe in particular special?"

"Oh, my yes, she had it specifically made for her. It is woven with protections to keep one from being bound or held against one's will," Abraxas explained. "If they attempted to tie her, the ropes would simply fall off... bags would untie themselves, shackles fall off, and she could slip away from any grip. She was quite paranoid about Muggles catching her without a wand after her sister died... quite understandably so. She never went out of the school without this robe on." Beth studied it thoughtfully.

"I've never heard another robe that could do anything like that," Beth admitted. Abraxas brightened.

"Me either! That's why I'm so glad I was able to get it. If it had been better advertised, someone in that Whitehall crowd would have heard about it, and the price would have been quite daunting."

"Yes, I bet it would have," Beth agreed. "Well, thanks for showing it to me, Father. I should be getting back..."

"What, already?" Abraxas frowned.

"Fleur and I are going to have lunch in Marseille. If I'm late, she's likely to send Minister Craw after me," Beth warned.

"Fine! But if you want to learn about items collecting, you will have to talk to me, Elizabeth," Abraxas snapped.

"I'm not talking to you unless you stop trying to talk me out of seeing Maurice," Beth replied firmly.

"Then I will stop, but it's only because I know that this relationship isn't likely to last," Abraxas retorted.

"Time will tell," Beth said primly.

"Are you going to move back home, then?" Abraxas asked.

"No," Beth said in the same tone. Abraxas looked frustrated. "But I will come home to have dinner in a few days."

"Owl first, I've been quite busy," Abraxas said with annoyance.

"I shall, Father," Beth said, kissing the irate man on the cheek before hurrying towards the door, more than a little eager to get out of there.

Still, she couldn't help to be a little disappointed in herself. She was quite certain that Devian Nyle would have completed her mission without the uncomfortable confrontation with a relative at the end.