21 – Surprise Visitors
Hogsmeade was silent in the early evening, looking very much like a village in a Charles Dickens novel. Snow covered the nearly abandoned street, and clung like white icing to rooftops. A light dusting floated in the air, and the dim, winter sun sank into the horizon as the street lamps were magically beginning to glow. Albus had excused himself from the Castlewoods' to return to Hogwarts for the few days between Christmas and New Year's. He wanted to give the family some privacy, and there were some errands that needed to be attended to, a few plans to be made. Trudging his way to the quiet east side of the village, he knocked the fresh snow from his shoulders as he pushed the heavy, wooden door of the tavern open, making his way into the dark, musty room. The few, ratty patrons that sat at the small, square tables curiously gazed up at the newcomer as he eased himself onto a stool at the grimy counter. The bartender eyed Albus with obvious dislike, but moved to place a short glass in front of him, pulling a bottle of cheap firewhiskey from the dusty shelf. There was silence for a moment before Albus finally spoke.
"I hope you had a pleasant Christmas," Albus casually commented as the barkeep silently uncorked the bottle and prepared to pour the liquor. "I'm getting married," he quietly continued as he fingered the glass watching the other man's reaction. The barkeep stopped, holding the half full bottle in his left hand, his blue eyes piercing Albus intently. "She's a teacher at the school," he finished.
The bartender huffed and re-corked the un-poured whiskey bottle, returning it to the shelf. Striding to a locked cupboard at the end of the bar, he withdrew his wand and cast a spell. Pausing for a moment, he reached in to pull out a fresh bottle, a rare brand, something difficult to get. Returning to the professor, he wordlessly uncorked it and poured him a glass. Albus' heart was heavy as he watched the man. He wished things were different. Maybe one day they would be. As he lifted the glass, the bartender pulled another from under the counter and poured himself a drink. The two men raised their glasses, nodded silently to each other, and downed the smooth liquor.
"She a lovely girl, Aberforth. "I hope that one day you'll meet her," Albus commented to the man's back as he turned to continue wiping the glasses behind the battered counter.
~~~***~~~
Thomas paced outside the front door of Castlewood Manor. He hadn't called. He didn't even know if she was still there. But, he needed to see her again. Raising his hand to knock, the door swung open, and a diminutive elf stood before him, waiting.
"Is Mistress Elizabett in?" he asked hesitantly.
"Yes, Master Thomas," Petite bobbed her head, ushering the young man in, and closing the door behind him. With a snap of her fingers, she disappeared, leaving Thomas standing alone in the foyer. A moment later, Elizabett appeared at the top of the landing looking radiant in a classic black, winter robe, her hair ribboned back in a casual, low ponytail. She smiled at her friend and quickly descended the stairs, reaching for his hands and leaning to give him a peck on the cheek.
"What brings you here on this blustery day?" she beamed.
Thomas shifted uncomfortably; looking down at his shoes, then taking a deep breath, looked her directly in the eyes. "I needed to speak with you."
"About?" Elizabett's eyebrows rose with a questioning smile.
"Not here," he looked around uneasily. "A walk maybe?"
"My parents are out. We have the house to ourselves." Elizabett led him into the sitting room. Taking opposite chairs, she raised her eyebrows again. "This is about…?"
Thomas leaned onto his knees, gazing at his laced fingers, then raising his head, he plunged forward. "It's about your quick engagement. About how much older he is than you. About when you started to see each other. About how fast you intend to marry. Geez, Lizzie, we courted for months, we've been friends forever, and you didn't even let me know?" The hurt was obvious in his voice. "Do you have any idea how awkward it was at Yule?"
Elizabett could see the pain in his face. How many times had she started to write to him but could never bring herself to send the letters. She had talked herself into thinking that he wouldn't care. He had someone new.
"I'm sorry I hurt you, Thomas. I truly am. My friendship with Albus began shortly after I arrived at Hogwarts, but we were never more than friends, colleagues. I always questioned why I couldn't give myself to you as you wanted. There was always something at the back of my head stopping me. I loved you. I still do, but, not in the romantic fashion of lovers."
"It's different with him?" Thomas sat straight, leaning back in the chair, his emerald eyes shimmering at her.
"Albus and I didn't acknowledge our attraction to each other until after Easter break, after you made it clear that you had found someone else. From there, things became so clear." Elizabett twitched a small smile and shook her head at the memory. "It may seem that the engagement is quick, but when you think about it, we see each other every day. We live a similar life, our experiences parallel. I don't care how much older he is than me. It doesn't matter. He's a sweet man, kind and considerate." There was a moment of silence as Thomas gazed down at his fingers processing the information. "Why do you question my relationship?" Elizabett finally asked. "You seem to enjoy Kalina's company so well."
Thomas tipped his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes, a sad look crossing his face. "I just wanted to understand. I just want you to be happy." His lips twitched upward in the left corner. "I have to go," his eyes shot open. and he suddenly rose to his feet. "I'm meeting Kalina in Diagon Alley." He moved to the door with Elizabett following behind.
"Thomas," Elizabett reached her hand to gently grasp his sleeve, stopping him before he stepped out. "I hope we'll always be friends, no matter what happen. Kalina seems to be a wonderful girl, full of life and spirit."
Thomas leaned forward to tenderly kiss Elizabett on the cheek, moving his lips to her ear. "But, she's not you," he barely uttered above a whisper. "There's no one like you."
Pulling back, he opened the door and was suddenly gone, leaving Elizabett struggling for breath as her heart pounded hard in her chest.
~~~***~~~
The old man paced his study, glancing at the grandfather clock as its heavy tick resonated off the tapestried and book-lined walls. Shelves upon shelves of ancient texts and scrolls gave testament to the man and his work. He glanced up as the clock struck six. Dinner would be served at eight, but he had hoped to visit with his guests for a while before hand. He had things to discuss, ideas to be shared.
An elderly woman shuffled into the room, "tsking" at the impatient, old man. "They'll get here when they get here." She shook her head at him, absently straightening the bright, crocheted blanket that lay across the back of a heavy, dark leather chair. "Watching the pot won't make it boil any faster."
He looked up at his wife and smiled. Of their nearly six hundred years of marriage, she never failed to have an aphorism for him. "If this woman has captured Albus' heart, I'm very anxious to meet her. He has slowed in his research and hasn't visited as often. He doesn't seem to have lost focus, but she has drawn his attention elsewhere."
"Does this worry you?" his wife stopped puttering.
"No," he shook his head, "This is a good thing. Albus claims that she's special, has unique talents. He senses a strong Earth magic in her, and she is apparently quite adept with wandless magic."
"Really?" Perenelle questioned with interest, absently refolding the blanket. "Does he think this can help him?"
"Possibly. Another reason I'm anxious to meet her. I want to see them together. The combination of powers may be interesting."
The sound of the Floo activating startled the old man, and he backed away from the hearth. Green flames emerged, and a couple stepped into the study, careful not to knock the soot from their clothes onto the antique, Persian carpet.
The young woman laughed lightly as she drew her wand to cast a cleaning spell. "And you promised me dancing…" she said cheerily, removing the soot from both of them.
"I'm afraid you know what sort of dancer I am, or more precisely, am not," Albus chuckled as he turned to greet their hosts.
"Welcome to our home," the old man spread his arms to gather Albus into a friendly hug complete with a typically Parisian, two-cheek kiss. He, then, moved to greet Elizabett with the same familiarity. "My dear, you are as lovely as Albus claimed." His wizened face was soft against her cheek.
"Elizabett," Albus took her hand, "I would like to introduce a dear friend, Nicholas Flamel and his wife, Perenelle."
Elizabett reached her hand to the ancient alchemist. "It is not only a pleasure to finally meet you but an honour, as well. Albus wouldn't give specifics of who you were."
"And you never asked?" Nicholas inquired curiously.
"I trust Albus. If he wanted me to know, then he would have told me. I figured there was a reason for the secrecy. Now, I understand."
"She's a jewel, Albus," Nicholas clapped the other man's shoulder. "Come. A drink?" The older man ushered the pair to the small sidebar where Perenelle poured an aperitif.
"Was your trip pleasurable?" he took a sip of the sweet liquid as he turned toward Elizabett.
"Interesting," she replied to their inquiring looks. "Albus only said that we were coming to visit you but didn't tell me where you lived. I assumed it was London, but I'm quite certain I'm wrong. The Floo had a long gap at one point. We're in Europe, but not too far. The Floo doesn't travel great distances overseas. I'd say by the greeting that we're in France, or maybe Brussels."
"Very good," Nicholas grinned. "Bordeaux, to be exact. According to Muggle history books, I died in 1418. We could no longer live in our home in Paris, so we moved to a small village south of Bordeaux. Fabulous wine country." He gave her a wink.
"Why stay in France at all? You could have gone anywhere," Elizabett innocently asked.
"And abandon France? Never," he feigned appal. "We have travelled, but this is our home." He spread his arms, referring to the country. "We could never leave."
During dinner, Perenelle played the perfect hostess explaining that they rarely received visitors, and this was a special treat. The conversation ranged from the Flamel's life in seclusion to their entertainment with Nicholas' Muggle success after his "passing" ("foolish Muggles", he had chided) to Albus' experiment and amused curiosity with dragon's blood to Elizabett's dexterity in Herbology and interesting ability with Earth magic. Nicholas seemed particularly intrigued in the strength of her skill, which Elizabett downplayed with modesty. "It seems to get stronger with each generation," she claimed with an indifferent shrug as Nicholas gave Albus a meaningful look.
There was an invitation to spend the night, and as Perenell gave Elizabett a tour of the house and showed her the bedrooms on the second floor, the men ambled into the study with an after-dinner cognac.
"I see your attraction," Nicholas sank into the leather armchair. "Ahh, to be six hundred years younger," he chuckled at his own observation. "She's utterly charming."
Albus smiled. "Beauty, charm, intelligence, and a kind and patient heart. I consider myself truly lucky."
"And her abilities have nothing to do with it?" Nicholas smiled shrewdly.
"Not really. She inspires me with her honesty and forthright manner." Albus sipped his drink.
Nicholas gazed at him steadily. "But the next generation, and the one after that…"
"I hope that need does not arise," the younger man clearly stated.
"I hope you're right, but your association with a particular European wizard may warrant that possibility. Does she know?"
"No, and I intend to keep it that way." Albus eyed his friend firmly.
Nicholas nodded in agreement and changed the subject. "So, how's the experiment going?"
It was nearly midnight when the women finally interrupted the men, and when the clock struck the hour, the two couples toasted in a New Year. Nineteen thirty-nine. A tense year ahead for Europe, and they all knew it. Still, the four friends raised their glasses to a hopeful future and bright blessings were given for a happy marriage.
Albus and Nicholas secluded themselves in the study the following day. They had some ideas that needed "hashing out", as Albus put it.
Perenelle laughed at the men, and rolled her eyes at Elizabett. "They do this all the time. Best find something to do. It may be a while," she advised.
Elizabett had breakfast with Perenelle, and then excused herself for the day. Grandmaman Lestrange was just a blink away. She intended to pay a surprise visit on the old woman. Perenelle understood and clasped Elizabett's arm amiably, sending her on her way.
~~~***~~~
Le Mistral blew off the Mediterranean Sea; a cold, dry wind that would blow for days. Unlike Bordeaux on the Atlantic, which was cold and had a dusting of snow, Juan Les Pins, didn't have the same bite of winter, even with the wind. There was no snow, and the dry air, although chill, felt pleasant.
Elizabett had Apparated to the small cluster of trees at the base of a knoll behind her grandmother's home. Climbing the hill, the brisk wind whipped her cloak around her, knocking the hood down, and spinning her long hair in the air. Elizabett smiled. She loved the feel of the wind. It refreshed her, gave her strength. She felt empowered. As she approached the ancient, stone cottage the skin on her arms prickled, and an uneasy feeling crept up her spine. Something was not right. Climbing the old, wooden steps to the blackened, front door, Elizabett paused, absorbing the sensations. She could hear voices inside, and they sounded calm, but the uncomfortable feeling persisted. Knocking, the voices in the room fell silent, and Elizabett could hear shuffling across the floor. The door opened a crack, and Grandmaman Lestrange poked her nose out.
"Elizabett," she nervously glanced back into the house, "This is a surprise."
"Is everything alright, Grandmaman? I sense something wrong," Elizabett lowered her voice to the old woman.
"What could possibly be wrong?" Axius drew the door open exposing the interior of the cottage, smiling pleasantly at his cousin.
Elizabett gazed questioningly at her grandmother.
"What could possibly be wrong?" the old woman echoed with a feeble smile.
"I was visiting a friend in Bordeaux and thought I'd stop in for a quick visit with you." Elizabett stepped toward the door. "Are you sure everything is all right?" she leaned toward her grandmother.
"Of course, it is," a tall, blond man stepped behind Axius. "It's a pleasure to see you again," he tipped his head toward the young woman. "You are going to invite her in, aren't you?" he clapped his hand on Axius' shoulder.
The dark man drew a slow, uneasy breath and watched his cousin carefully, as if willing her to go away, but the blond reached past him, ushering her into the house.
Elizabett took her grandmother's elbow protectively, and the two entered, closing the door against the unremitting wind. "How is your family, Axius? The children must be on their own by now." Elizabett began conversationally as she eased her grandmother into the rocker and sat in a chair by her side.
"All are gone but one," Axius moved directly opposite the women. "I hear that you're engaged," he tried to sound casual. "Someone you work with?"
Elizabett twitched a smile and nodded, giving her grandmother's hand a squeeze, "Just like you predicted," she said lowly.
"Gellert and I were just here to check on Grandmaman," Axius took a breath and looked at the blond.
"How kind of you," Elizabett twitched a false smile at the two. "Will you be staying long?"
"No, we were just getting ready to leave." Her cousin rose and reached for the old woman's hand, kissing the back of it lightly.
Elizabett rose to escort the men to the door. Opening it, a gust of wind wrapped around them, pulling them out.
"Axius," Grandmaman Lestrange called drawing the dark man back inside, leaving Elizabett alone on the porch with her malevolent nemesis.
Gellert stared out at the cold waves. "Engaged," he quietly observed. "Lucky man. A teacher from what I hear. From Hogwarts." He turned to leer at the young woman, a wicked glint in his eyes. "How does he make you feel?"
Elizabett could sense his attempt at overpowering her. A silent Legilimens had been cast, but she had been prepared, blocking his efforts.
"Well done," he praised softly, casually stepping toward her. She refused to retreat, boldly holding her ground. "Tell me," he whispered as he tipped his head to her ear, his nose lightly brushing her cheek. "Have you allowed him to touch you? I heard you had difficulty with our last beau. You never seemed to have trouble with me," he breathed menacingly.
Elizabett felt the bile rise in her throat, but still, she resisted his power. Raising her face to meet his, their eyes locked, and she coolly replied. "At least he doesn't need to use Imperio."
The two studied each other for a moment, his amusement, and her revulsion, both clear. The cottage door swung open, and Axius re-emerged tucking something into the pocket of his cloak. Gellert stepped back from Elizabett and descended the steps carefully, nodding to his colleague, and tipping his head in departure to Elizabett. She stood on the front balcony watching them leave, remaining alert for several minutes after they Disapparated, trying to shake off the memory of her past. The wind wrapped around her again like a comforting blanket, and the sound of the waves on the shore soothed her tense nerves. What had they really been doing here? She was quite certain her grandmother wouldn't tell…if she was even allowed to remember the incident. Elizabett turned to re-enter the cottage, finding her grandmother sitting in her rocker by a blazing fire, humming softly to herself. Cautiously approaching the woman, Elizabett eased herself into the wooden chair. There was silence, and she began to worry. What had Axius done? Surely, he wouldn't have harmed her.
Turning her head to gaze at the young woman by her side, the old woman reached to give Elizabett's hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm stronger than you think, cherie." She twitched a small smile. "Axius may follow that man, but he will not betray me. Have faith in family." There was silence for a moment, and the old woman flipped Elizabett's palm up, gazing at the lines. "So," she chuckled lightly, "You're here with the man who has captured your heart. When do I get to meet him?"