Chapter 26

Marcus dropped off his broom with a grunt and called over to the ruddy-haired wizard behind him, "I was thinking more of a side spin, Grant. When Pickens was Captain the Arrows used a defence where the centre Chaser would fall under the left wing Chaser, remember?"

Harris and Glenn, who had just landed on the pitch near Biggs, both wore sour expressions as they walked over to where Grant and Marcus were talking. Biggs looked at Glenn, who was swinging his bat and glaring at Grant, and grumbled softly so only the three of them could hear, "Someone is forgetting who the Captain is. I can't believe Grant hasn't mowed him down. He hates any interference in his plans."

Harris, despite looking extremely tired, sharply replied, "No, the young one is right. I remember that defence. Their right wing Chaser played very like Grant and Flint shoots much the same as Hodgens did. That might work."

As all six wizards congregated on the side of the pitch, Jones, who was leaning against his broom and holding the Snitch tightly in his hand, said only, "I don't care what might work. I'm not getting back on my broom today."

Waving to Haynes that he could stop flying in front of the hoops since there would be nothing more to defend against, Grant finally replied, "Anyone with a strategy to suggest is welcome. I know I'm good but I don't mind a little help. I remember that defence, Flint, and we might try that tomorrow. Jones, shout down to Ingles that the reserves can go on home, but that we'll need them during our practice again tomorrow."

Jones shot a look of surprise at Grant before raising his wand to his throat and commanding, "Sonorus!"

As Jones' magnified voice boomed across the pitch towards where the seven Falcons reserves players were huddled in a heated conversation, Glenn muttered, "Usually us who gets that job. What did Jones do to lose favour?"

Biggs eyed Grant, who was standing away from them and talking privately with Marcus. "He was late to practice, but he's always late. If he weren't Seeker he wouldn't get away with half that rubbish. Jones might be our star but that doesn't mean Grant can't put him in his place occasionally."

Harris commented, "First time for everything. But Grant told me that the young one is going to be the best player we've signed in a decade if he can get his witch troubles sorted and manage not to get himself hexed and left for dead in any more alleys. Frankly I don't think Grant is wrong if only Flint can keep his focus."

As they began walking towards the locker rooms, Biggs said, "You know who his witch is? A Yaxley."

The other wizards grunted with recognition as Haynes, who had just caught them up, asked, "Should I know that name?"

Glenn responded, "Right, you're Muggleborn, aren't you? The Yaxleys are a very old family known primarily for their gold, their virulent pure-blood prejudice, and their cruelty."

Harris stopped suddenly and said with alarm, "And their patriarch is standing right over there."

As Jones and the reserves players filed past them into the locker rooms, Haynes, Biggs, Harris, and Glenn watched Marcus slowly cross the practice pitch to where a tall wizard wearing very expensive black wool robes stood with one hand bearing a large ruby signet resting on the rail of the small viewing stands. The look on the older wizard's face as he waited for Marcus became increasingly saturnine as Marcus got closer until Haynes said, "Blimey, I hope the witch doesn't look like her father."

Marcus, however, was not thinking of his witch at all as he looked into Hunwald Yaxley's fathomless black eyes beneath heavy, furrowed dark brows and felt himself slipping into a state of panic. "Hello Mr Yaxley."

"Marcus, I understand that you and my daughter have renewed your relationship. In fact you have asked her to marry you again and without my approval."

Gripping his broom, which he had brought along without thinking, Marcus replied shortly, "Yes, sir, that is correct."

Hunwald pursed his lips so that the point of his beard seemed even sharper before responding, "You know that I have not approved this relationship and therefore you had no right to talk with Etheldreda no matter whether she wrote to you or not."

Marcus took a deep breath as he tightened his grip on his wand, keeping one eye on where Hunwald's wand hand was hidden behind the folds of his robes. As there was no possible response, he merely waited for Hunwald to speak.

Hunwald continued stiffly, "Most insulting, however, was that you dared to propose to my daughter without approaching me again for approval. You were certainly taught what tradition demands, Marcus. If you deny Etheldreda the courtesy due to her father then you are displaying towards her a lack of respect that is extraordinarily troubling."

Marcus had to force himself to stop grinding his teeth long enough to reply, "I would never want to show Dreda any lack of respect, sir, nor yourself."

Hunwald appeared both immensely bored and displeased as he responded, "And yet you make yourself very difficult to approach, Marcus, by Charming yourself Untraceable, making your flat Unplottable, and Apparating directly into the practice complex each day. You force me to come down here to look after my daughter's interests, although they should be your primary concern if you genuinely love her. In short, I fail to see your supposed love and reverence for Etheldreda in your actions, Marcus."

Marcus managed to croak hoarsely, "I can assure you, Mr Yaxley, that I want nothing more than to make your daughter happy. If you would name a convenient location and time, then my Jurisconsultant and I will meet you to discuss wedding arrangements."

Hunwald stared down at Marcus from the stands, his long hair falling forward to frame his cold eyes. "On Tuesday evening I will be at the Andromeda Society's London address. My Jurisconsultant and I will receive you in the public rooms after eight."

Marcus pressed two very white lips together when he heard where Hunwald wanted them to meet, but since he felt that the public rooms of the Society should be safe he answered, "Very well, sir."

"If your Jurisconsultant wishes to send any agreements for perusal to my Jurisconsultant before we meet, then you may have him owl them to Senior Benchman Interrogator Altair Shipley, Q.C. at the Outer Temple."

Marcus felt his heart sink as he replied, "Yes, sir."

Executing an extremely stiff bow, Hunwald turned on his heel and stalked towards the edge of the stands before encircling himself with a column of blue smoke and disappearing from view.

"I don't know how much longer I can stand working for the old bastard, Eldred. He's all too aware of the fact that we can't leave before Father agrees and has been holding this power over our heads every time he takes away one of our 'free' days or evenings to work on his rubbishing potion. And you know how I've always felt about Potions."

Eldred continued to peer out the long, narrow window of their study into the setting sun without giving any indication that he was listening to his brother. After waiting several seconds for a response, Wilfred got up from the dark red chair over which he had been sprawled and crossed the floor to stand next to Eldred.

"Look, we've been here since the end of August. I don't intend to remain here once Rosa finishes Hogwarts, so we won't be staying the year anyway. Why don't we cut out now?"

Eldred finally turned his head slightly to ask, "And go where? We can't go home yet and you don't want to join everyone in Wexford. Do you actually have a plan or are you just whinging?"

Glaring at Eldred's profile, since Eldred had turned back to watch the clouds as the sun set, Wilfred snapped, "I would like to go into Ireland, you know that. But I can't. How can I look Rosamunde in the eye if I've joined up with that lot to go taunting the local Muggles once we've drunk too much poitín?"

Eldred gestured with his wand so that his small silver cup was refilled with tsikoudia from the bottle on the table and replied, "You'd look like a right bastard, which is why we are currently rotting here in Crete instead of drifting about Wexford and Kilkenny like our mates. You know that we really wouldn't be doing anything worthwhile if we were there, albeit we might have a good laugh and better company than we've got here with old Karatos. I'm bored, Will. I can't find anything that really interests me anymore, which is why I am about to get utterly pissed on this rotten raki before I fall asleep well before ten. Everything bores me."

Wilfred watched his brother with concern for a moment before asking, "Are you bored because I'm preoccupied with Rosamunde?"

Eldred shook his head. "I've been bored for some time now. If I'm not numbing my mind with some useful substance or finding some decent mischief to be had then I can't escape the thought that it doesn't really seem as if anything is worth it anymore."

Wilfred sat on the windowsill in front of Eldred and said, "I actually know what you mean to some extent. Of course I can't say that I am bored because even if I have just written her and therefore have to wait a day to send the next owl, I always have Rosa's letters to reread now. But Rosa is passionate about so many things such as Quidditch, dragons, and those horrendous romance books she loves to read. The only thing that I am passionate about is Rosa. Sometimes I wonder if I should have something else. After getting to know Rosa, I am starting to wonder if I am quite the wizard that I should be."

Eldred finished the last of his drink and lifted his wand again to refill it. "Honestly I don't know if you could spare the energy from your worship of Rosamunde to be interested in anything else, Wilfred. You are all consumed by her. Even now that she is writing back to you and has met you all of three times, you are gagging for more and miserable most of the time. It would be good for you to have another interest, but I don't see how you could."

Wilfred spun round and propped himself against the open window, looking out into the nearly dark sky and responded bitterly, "I didn't intend to fall in love with her, Eldred. You know how I fought it. I don't want to suffer like this, you know."

Eldred sighed and finished his cup in one quick shot. "But if you could have it wiped clean, would you?"

Wilfred's body twitched as he answered, "No. It doesn't work like that. I would not want to go back now. Then life really would be meaningless."

Eldred stared at the bottle as he decided whether a fifth goblet of tsikoudia would be advisable and replied, "Yes it would. What will you do if Rosamunde goes to the reservation in Romania, Will?"

Wilfred leant further into his arms as he peered out over the rocky landscape below. "Oddly enough she isn't going. She doesn't want to be a dragon keeper. You would think that she would be perfect, wouldn't you? She can be as fierce as any dragon and is capable with her wand whilst also riding her broom, which you know isn't easy. But she says that there is a need for someone with a love for dragons to work for in the Ministry. She has applied and been conditionally accepted onto the Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures as the representative for the Hebridean Black. She just has to pass her NEWTs, of course."

Eldred looked interested. "Do they actually have someone specific for each sort of dragon?"

"Apparently. You wouldn't think that there was that much different about each dragon, but there must be enough. She said that they seemed quite pleased to have someone who actually wanted to work with the Hebridean Blacks, since the MacFusty clan is particularly unpleasant to most Ministry officials. However Rosa apparently wrote to them before applying to the Ministry and they've actually endorsed her." Wilfred was now looking directly at his brother with a wide smile and a slightly distant expression in his eyes.

Eldred seemed rather impressed as he said, "Did she now? That was very clever."

Wilfred cheerfully responded, "She does know how to get what she wants. She is going to make my life a living hell at times, isn't she?"

Eldred, who looked distinctly less happy about the prospect, nodded. "Yes, she certainly will. I hope that the highs will be worth the lows, Will."

Wilfred shrugged as he turned back to the window, fingering something in his pocket as he replied, "Well if they aren't it won't be because I haven't tried enough. I am willing to do nearly anything, I think."

Eldred peered at the hunched back of his more mercurial twin and sighed. "Flint wrote to me."

Wilfred spun about and nearly shouted, "What?"

"Father forced him to meet at Andromeda with Uncle Altair to negotiate settlements. Flint's father actually came in addition to their Jurisconsultant, but since Father had Uncle Edmond and Uncle Ecbert there as well it must have been a very nasty few hours."

Wilfred looked disdainful and said only, "Good."

Eldred frowned. "Heaven knows that I don't condone with he did, Will, but the idiot bastard does love Dreda and is willing to submit to any charm that Dreda requests. He would work his wand to the heartstring for her, Will, and she loves him. She won't be happy without him. I would think that you might have some understanding of that now that you're mad for Rosamunde Dawlish."

Wilfred shook his head. "He betrayed her."

Eldred sighed, "He does love her, Will."

"I can't believe that. There is nothing that could explain him sleeping with another witch."

"Have you never done anything you regretted when the whisky haze cleared away? Did you even read Father's owl? When he performed the Farānaj curse on Flint the only thing that Flint could see was Dreda's dead body in front of him. You know Farānaj is supposed to force the victim to live out all their worst memories at once as if they are real, but for Flint it was only that one. I suppose he must have encountered a Boggart once and it turned into a dead Dreda. Anyway Flint screamed until Father thought Flint was going to go completely mad."

Wilfred looked coldly at his brother. "Alright, I will allow that he loves her, Eldred. I also understand that she is silly enough to want him still. But I will never again consider Marcus Flint to be anything else but a faithless, despicable worm, who is no longer worthy to be called a wizard and I intend to treat him as such."

Eldred sighed. "You are as cold as Dreda when you turn aren't you? But Dreda hasn't turned on him, Will, and she will never accept your opinion of him. How are you going to explain to her why you won't be civil to her wizard, Will? You haven't been able to refuse our sister anything since she was born."

Wilfred's face was impassive as he replied, "Dreda will understand, Eldred. I will be only as polite to the tosser as I must in order not to hurt Dreda, but nothing more."

Eldred asked sarcastically, "Have you even met our sister, Will?"

Wilfred jerked his hand in a motion of indifference. "She will come to understand, Eldred, but neither of you will change my mind on this."

Eldred shook his head and replied finally, "Believe what you want, Wilfred. I think that I have drunk enough that I had better go to bed. The drink is going to catch me up very soon if I'm not lying down."