Monday, March 14, 1910
Monday afternoon was no less glorious for the murky clouds brooding overhead. A breeze nipped between the corridor arches, speckling Theseus' face with fine mist, but the temperature was mild enough that the wind goaded one to tramp about outside, where grass swayed like a fragile sea and sparrows balked against the currents overhead. It was a fine day for kites, or cricket, or watching a team practice for the next Quidditch match.
"Theseus!" Hair askew in the wind, robes flapping about him, Newton skittered to a halt just shy of his brother, his face red and elated as he trotted to meet the elder's lengthy stride. "I transfigured a real lily pad this time. Well, it wasn't that good, not like yours, but the professor gave me a passing score. I'd have shown you but it fell off the table and someone stepped on it and crushed it. Can you help me with transfiguration this evening? We're supposed to transform animals in tomorrow's lesson and I don't want something to happen to Hereward."
"Afraid he'll fly into a tree?" Theseus drawled.
Newton flushed darker than was warranted for the brisk walk. "Well, Flippet did sort of hit one. It was an accident, really, and she wouldn't have fallen if Jenny hadn't squealed and made Corwyn toss her out the window."
"What exactly did you transform her into?" Theseus asked, his expression twisting in bewilderment as he tried to imagine a creature so horrid that another student would smash spell-protected glass to be rid of it.
"It was supposed to be a candlestick," Newt said glumly. "But her head was still fixed on top, and she kept swiveling about to look at everybody. I tried to turn her back - I almost had it. Corwyn just didn't give me any time."
There was no small amount of sorrow wrapped into that bland statement. "Why didn't you tell me?" Theseus prompted. "I would've written the professor."
Apparently that was the wrong way to intervene, for Newton looked fairly startled as he skittered around the notion. "It's fine. Mother bought me another one, and this time I'll do the spell right because you'll teach me. Did you settle your job today? Are you staying?"
"Yes, and yes," Theseus replied amicably. An easy hex had spouted a flow of purple shampoo from all of the spouts in the prefects' bathroom. Not only had he flooded the hall, enforcing the necessity of his prolonged visit, but the groundskeeper had slipped in the mess so neatly that Peeves popped by just to test the skating rink himself. After a few minutes of letting the poltergeist slop suds and purple hand prints over the walls, Theseus had proposed an alliance.
His best suit was now in the laundry, soaked and stained with expertly extracted dye, his skin still bore a violet tint that had made Madame MacQuoid cackle like a jarvey when he inquired after a remedy, and he had successfully convinced Pugg that comeuppance was around every man's corner. Peeves had been so impressed with the results that he had offered his services at once - probably as an opportunity to gossip with his fellow spirits and humiliate the intolerable inspector further.
"Your face is sort of purply," Newton commented, looking up with mingled sympathy and chagrin. "Does it take long to wear off?"
"Hours, if I calculated right." Thank heavens he hadn't mixed the full dose. He wanted a castle of cross professors, not an insurrection over girly walls and floors.
"You really shouldn't mess with Peeves," Newton advised, as though the whole bathroom debacle was the ghost's doing. "He strung up one of the Slytherins from the light fixtures in the Dark Arts classroom right before Christmas, and then he was howling all about the room throwing butter knives and rat dung everywhere, so no one could go inside to cut him down for three whole hours!"
It was fortunate that the Ministry report wasn't official. Newton's avid testimonials could have shut down the school. Compared to Beauxton's Academy and Durmstrang, both of which Theseus had seen in his later years of travel, Hogwarts was a shabby monastery built on splint legs of heritage and decadence, bolstered by generations of loyal bloodlines. One week ago Theseus would have sworn on his grandmother's grave that there was no better school than what could be found in Scotland. Posing as a cynical inspector had ruined his entire perspective.
"Theseus, is that Artemis coming this way?" Newton said, tugging on his sleeve. "It is! Is he going to join us? Are you going to ask him if I can keep Pudsey?"
"What - when was I going to...?" Mentally berating the foolishness of younger siblings and the messes he was dragged into unawares, Theseus discarded the niffler petition and nodded to Newt. "Artemis."
Cordial enough in his own rushed manner, Newt spared a brief wave for Newton, looking more and more uncomfortable as he glanced about the courtyard and requested, "I was wondering if you could help me search the Room of Requirement this afternoon. If you're not busy."
"The room of what?" Theseus said, perturbed by the title. He thought he and Davis had explored every nook, classroom, and arbor in the castle, and he had never heard of such a place. Perhaps a new wing had been added since his graduation.
Sighing, Newt leaned in to whisper, "The Come-and-Go room. I didn't discover it until my fourth year."
"Newt, what on earth are you talking about?"
"Artemis," young Newton pitched in helpfully. He shrugged when both adults turned to stare at him. "His name is Artemis. You keep forgetting."
"Can we please discuss this elsewhere?" Newt hissed.
"What is the Room of Requirement," Theseus countered. "I've never heard of it. What makes you think a student will have access to it?"
"I can't say anything here," Newt insisted, nodding meaningfully at his younger self.
Sighing, Theseus glanced down at the second-year. Newton fidgeted, the same worried expression eclipsing his face as when Theseus had challenged him about Herbology.
"Are we going to the Quidditch pitch still?" Newton asked in a small voice. There it was again. The disappointed edge of, I know it's important but you're leaving me again, aren't you? He heard it every year after the holidays and before the fall term began, until one day it dropped out of his brother's sullen tone altogether.
Dispirited, downcast eyes below him. Persistent, hesitant gaze at his right. Bother it all, it was bad enough having one sibling warring for his time, let alone two of them quarreling over his company. No matter which brother he chose, someone was going to be disappointed this afternoon.
Grimacing, knowing he was going to hear about it later, Theseus shrugged at Newt. "I promised him I'd watch the practice this afternoon."
He didn't expect the confidence to drop out of Newt's eyes. He had expected Little Brother to be annoyed, perhaps, maybe even slouchy after Theseus put off the research for a day, but crestfallen was an expression he hadn't seen since fourth year. Newt was simply too maverick to be crushed by a lousy afternoon.
"Whatever is the matter?" Theseus huffed, bewilderment coloring his tone. "Look, I've been working all morning devising a way just to keep us both here. You know Black won't stand me dodging around without a purpose. It's just one afternoon, all right? It won't stop us from finding what we need."
There it was again. The clamped jaw and independent flare burning in hazel eyes, shutting him out before he could discern his omission. Shaking his head, Newt said lightly, "It's fine. I can handle it myself. I'll see you this evening, if you stop by."
If you stop by. A casual allusion to the certainty that Theseus would neglect him because of a mere Quidditch practice. Where on earth was this coming from? They'd been working apart from one another for nearly a decade, and now Newt wanted to be fussy about which part of himself was receiving more attention? Technically I am spending time with you! Theseus mentally retaliated. I'm giving you the best school year of your life. What are you sulking about for?
"Can we go, then?" Newton asked softly, hovering as though he expected Theseus to follow after "Artemis" any minute. The fear wasn't unwarranted.
Forcing himself to look away from his brother's rigid retreat, Theseus nodded briskly and led the way through the courtyard. The brooding clouds overhead only accented his mood. Gloomy and foreboding, that's what this day was. A bitter wind whipped past his coat, reminding him of the gust of hot air blasting from a tomb, and the chill of a night in Paris after Leta vanished before his eyes. A fate he would have shared had Newt not dragged him away from her pyre, sharing his despair as Grindelwald's fire melted into silence.
Where was his brother now?
Swivelling like wraiths against the grey sky, the eagles of Ravenclaw were the most inspiring team to watch on the field. Their strategies were flawless and their teamwork a practiced dance. Though not as bold in tactics like Gryffindor's impulsive dives, or clever like Slytherin's feints, they hovered on championship every year. Few students below third year made this proficient team, and its members consistently excelled in both sports and academics.
In Theseus' experience they were quite the flock of flippant, frilly fabricators. He'd gone to spare with the previous captain a few times over intimidation tactics towards first-years. Outrageous snobs, the lot.
"That's Falon," Newton said, pointing to the sixth-year who was executing an infallible reverse pass, making the difficult move appear effortless. "He's only a Chaser. How are we supposed to beat them?"
"It's... early March?" Theseus said, estimating the game schedule. "Ravenclaw won't play Hufflepuff for the rest of the year."
"I know," Newton said with an exasperated sigh. "But I want to be ready for next year. I want to try out for the team."
"Didn't make it this year, eh?" Theseus sympathized. Newt had always loved Quidditch, but he had never mentioned it outside of school, save to practice over break and swear he would be better next year.
"Garrick said the team was full up," Newton grumbled. "I thought I came to the tryouts on time. Do you think I should ask Father for a pocket watch? Professor McGonagall says she'll turn me into one if I get lost on the moving staircases again. Or maybe she said a compass. Do you think she would actually do it?"
"I wouldn't put anything past her," Theseus mused. "Who's the team captain for Ravenclaw?"
"Cassandra David," Newton supplied, making a face.
Ah, yes. The stream of straw-straight black hair definitely resembled Davey's uncooperative cowlick. This brazen little sister was destined for authorizing court signatures in a backroom office, little did she know.
"That's hardly a solicitous response for a lady," Theseus chided his brother.
"She's not a lady," Newton exclaimed. "She smacks a bludger worse than a Slytherin! She almost killed the Gryffindor Keeper last year."
Theseus muffled a chuckle. Single-minded and brash as buttons, that's how Davey described her. Tragic that one so bold would be stifled by a desk job.
Had it stifled Newt? Theseus' mirth vanished as quickly as the overcast smothering the sun. For years Newt had pinned himself to a desk job in the Ministry when his heart was tied to the land and the sky and the sea. Perhaps a brother's influence had never been limited to a renovated second year. Perhaps all along Newt had striven to please him; to restore his stricken honor.
Three years pent in a dismal office, and Theseus had never noticed.
He was just formulating a way to broach the matter to Newt when the bludger flashed in his vision. Instinctively he shoved Newton aside, barreling out of the way as the whipping globe smashed into the ground beside him. Clumps of dirt and grass sprayed violently as the bludger recoiled, glancing along Newton's skull as it sped away. Instantly the boy huddled on his side, crying out from shock and pain.
"Newt!" Theseus hollered, whipping upright to shelter the child even as he pried small hands away from the wound.
"Oye! Watch it, Cassandra!" one of the players shouted.
"Get off the field, Scamp-amander!" a rough, feminine voice exclaimed. "You know the rules! No kids on the pitch during practice. You trying to get killed?"
Assuring himself that the graze was no more than a light bump, swelling quickly but showing no signs of blood, Theseus whirled to face the sky, amplifying his voice to reach every player.
"Get down here now!"
Stunned, the eagles hovered uncertainly, drifting down one after another to perch a few feet from the enraged inspector. Cassandra was the last to land.
"What. Was. That?" Theseus enunciated, his voice shaking with negligible control.
"We weren't aiming for the kid," Falon said quickly. "Cass doesn't look at where she's hitting sometimes. All the first-years know to leave the pitch when we're practicing."
"I'm second-year!" Newton bemoaned. "Ow - ow. Theseus, can't we just go?"
"I didn't hardly knick him," Cassandra said gruffly, crossing her arms over her broom handle. "He clobbered Jenny harder when he shoved her in the library."
Two thoughts strung together at once: Newt was a blundering fool, and someone wanted comeuppance.
"I didn't clobber her!" Newton exclaimed, looking with wide eyes at the Eagles surrounding him. "I tripped on her cauldron, I swear! I didn't mean to fall into her!"
"Did you aim for Newt," Theseus interjected quietly.
Stoic grey eyes bore a hint of fright. Rising on her broomstick, Cassandra shook her head.
"Did you aim to frighten him," Theseus asked, lowering his voice to a soft pitch that was almost a whisper. The creak of a cold wind seeping under the door, bearing away a man's breath while he slept. The melodic hiss of a snare winding about a rabbit's neck. The subtle shift in the ocean's current, warning the swimmer that death roamed the waters before her.
Cassandra swayed back several feet.
"I didn't know," she said between gritted teeth.
"Didn't know that his brother was with him?" Theseus asked in the same even tone. "Or you didn't know that Sacheverell is my best friend."
A ghastly shade of white enveloped the girl's face at the mention of her brother. Arms quivering, she stepped carefully off her broom and tried to salvage her reputation one last time. "I wouldn't ever - he's just a kid."
"So's Jenny," Falon muttered, casting her a dark look.
Looking each team player in the eye, mentally noting each shamed slump and flabbergasted expression, Theseus waited until the team was silent and still. Only Falon met his gaze; a silent acceptance for the failure to prevent a wrong.
"You're all dismissed," Theseus said calmly. "I suggest you leave the pitch. Take advantage of this afternoon: it may be the last you see before the end of term."
Gaping, some of the players hesitated, but Theseus didn't wait for the message to sink in. He crouched beside Newton, cringing as he saw the darkening bruise. "We'll have Madam MacQuoid look at."
"It's not bad - really," Newton whispered loudly, still clutching his head. "You shouldn't have said anything. They'll all think I'm tattling now!"
"Oh tosh," Theseus murmured, brushing aside a few curls to make sure the swelling didn't extend further into the scalp. "Would you rather I let them paste you because you were clumsy?"
"No - Maybe? - Not really," Newton conceded. "But I was right when I told Dumbledore you were just like a Chinese Fireball."
Hurt lanced sudden and sharp as Theseus remembered the same words thrown at him by one nearly twenty years older. "Am I that temperamental?" he asked softly.
Gawking, Newton paused with his hand pressed over his skull, his eyes nearly crossed with puzzlement. "But I like Chinese Fireballs!" he defended avidly. "They're fast and clever and they're called lion dragons which is sort of you, cause when I used to be afraid there was a boggart hiding under my bed you'd pretend to be a nundu and scare it away. I told Professor Dumbledore about you and he said it was a good comparison. Don't you like dragons, Theseus?"
"I..." Feeling like he'd been smitten with a tongue-tying curse, Theseus swallowed against the sudden dryness in his mouth and eked out, "Yes, of course. It's... not something I would've thought of."
'You don't have to be such a Chinese Fireball...'
Oh, Newt... Theseus thought, sighing. You great idiot. You know I will never stop worrying over you.
"We should go inside," he said, bracing Newton as the boy swayed to his feet. "Madam Macquoid needs to look at that thick head of yours." And I have an apology to make.
"But I'm fine, Theseus! Really!" Hardly - the boy was blinking rapidly in the gloom, but his stance was adamant as he pleaded, "Don't tell the headmaster about this - please! They'll all be angry with me if they get into trouble, and then everyone will say I just go whining to you every time something bad happens. Promise me you won't say anything!"
How often has this happened? Theseus wanted to prod. What else haven't you told me?
Young Newton wasn't the one to ask, however. The child would only fluster and say that everything was fine - all fine - nothing to worry about - and please could Theseus keep this all to himself?
No, the one to interrogate was the man who had already slogged through six years of schooling before dropping out without any forewarning. Something more than a few distractions had hampered Newt's education; Theseus was sure of it now. Whether it was limited to Ravenclaw's team captain, or whether the damage went further than anyone knew, one wizard alone could tell.
Well, there was no harm in meeting up with his brother a little earlier than scheduled. Theseus had a few important matters to discuss with that slippery rascal.
Thank you to SomeRandomHuman001, XYZArtemis, Astro, and John Smith for reviewing!