Bill Weasley frowned, attempting to push back long red hair that he'd recently cut, a sign of his distress. "Giant snake, eh? Sounds like the one that bit my father."
He sat at the round table in the Cattermole tent drinking coffee the morning after Mary's and Rion's excursion. The low light and smell of the strong, hot brew seemed to dictate the conversation, and Reg responded in a somber tone.
"That's why we decided to tell you. I remember when that happened at the Ministry two years ago. He almost died, didn't he?"
That voice—I'll never forget it, said Mary to herself, sitting close to Reg. It was more menacing than the snake, as if it came from a pit of ice, of inhumanity.
"Yeah. He was standing guard that night, but I thought that was a secret," Bill said, smiling in thanks to Regina, who sat to his left and passed the sugar bowl to him.
Reg snorted. "There are no secrets in the Ministry, especially for Magical Maintenance. Someone tried to clean the blood and traces of the snake, but it wasn't to our standards. That was nothing though to the clean-up after Harry Potter and his friends broke in there. All those broken prophecies wouldn't shut up and the Time Turners kept pulling us back an hour or so, and we had to clean the same thing all over again."
Mary giggled. Her husband could always find something funny in any situation. But then, he turned serious again. "That means the snake Mary and Rion saw yesterday, barely escaped, was…his. Right?"
His? You-Know-Who? I was in the house with You -Know -Who? She whimpered as Bill nodded and Reg put his other arm around her, holding her shaking body.
Rion, however, seemed to be made of steel. He leaned forward and lay a hand on her arm. "He didn't get us, Mum. We beat him. We beat You -Know -Who. The surf crashed outside as if to emphasize Rion's statement.
"We did," Mary said, lifting herself from her Reg's chest to sit upright. "You and I were in a house with him and Nagini and we came out alive. You were so brave, Rion."
Rion smirked with recognizable pride. "And you were so quick."
My bad-ass Aethelflaed moment, she said to herself as Rion went to his room and Regina also stood, touching the back of their guest's chair.
"Come now, Bill, it's time to run," she said.
"One minute, Regina. Mary, what was that name you said?"
"Nagini?" she said with her head cocked.
Bill nodded. "I've heard that name before or read it. Harry never told us the snake's name. I could've made the connection earlier."
"What connection, Mate?" asked Reg.
Bill threw up his hands. "I don't know. I used to spend time in the Ministry library on my lunch hour, before I began dating Fleur. I think it's something I read there."
"Naga are Asian snake/human hybrids," said Regina, "which Hindu and Buddhists adopted into their lore. The name is quite apropos though, from what we know of…him, he wouldn't been aware of that. Which begs the question, who named the snake and how did he learn it."
Bill turned to her. "You always surprise me with what you know."
Mary saw her daughter light up at the man's words. Where had her little girl gone? She'd always thought she was pretty but, like Marty, she'd grown an astounding amount in their time in hiding. The dark red hair she used to wear now framed her fresh but not girlish-looking face in (Mary had to admit) quite sexy waves. Her once slight curves were more fully defined in the tight top she wore for exercise. Her limbs were long and supple. She easily looked sixteen or more.
"I'm sorry, but I must go," Bill added, rising to stand next to her. I should notify someone about what happened yesterday. I'm sure You-Know -Who is gone now with the snake, but we can tend to poor Bathilda's remains. She deserves better, and I want to see if someone at the Ministry can research that name for me." He sidled past Regina. "I'll be back tomorrow."
Regina ran after him. "Bill!" Her exit coincided with the entrance of a tousled Marty.
"Good morning, Lay-about," said Mary with false brightness. He'd been angry when she and Rion returned the previous night. He sat at the table glowering at the hot porridge and honey she placed before him, his favorite. "Would you rather have pancakes?"
"I'd rather you not walk into houses where You-Know-Who and his bloody snake are holed up," Marty said, his monotone mature with controlled anger.
Mary shared a look with Reg, and he stood up from the table. "I'll see what's keeping Regina. Your mother and brother were smart and fierce, Marty. Don't lose sight of that."
Just as on the beach yesterday, it was only Mary and her youngest, and she was just as tentative. "As I told you last night, darling, your warning helped prepare me. I was always attuned to what might make run."
"I told you not to go at all," he said. "What good does it do to dream of danger if you don't care?"
She put her hand over his. "It's not that I don't care, but I can't allow my fear, or yours, to prevent me from doing what I must do. "And I did it." She summoned the parchment to her from her handbag and it landed on the table before her.
It should've been lighter by now. Sunlight should've been flooding the tent to aid in reading, but it wasn't. That meant a rainy day on the beach—nothing more miserable. It seemed to be affecting them all.
Marty snorted and shifted in his chair. "I know you're proud of yourself. I wish I could be too, but…He bolted up and began pacing, agitation growing with each circuit. "That first time I dreamed about you, then you left that day without telling us you were going to the Ministry. You thought I was under the table because of the storm? I was because I didn't know if you were coming back. And last night, you and Rion strutted in and said you'd done what you set out to do and we'd talk about it after a good night's sleep. The next thin I hear, you were chased by You-Know-Who and a great, deadly snake.
Mary stared at him, tears streaming down both their faces. "Marty, I…"
"I'm not ready to live without my Mum," he choked out.
She ran to him and put her good arm around him. He took her dead arm in his hand and pulled it up with the other. "I'm sorry, Marty, but we have to expect more from ourselves. We-"
"—I know. I'll be brave," he said. "You be more careful."
She nodded I promise and hugged him again as Reg and Regina entered. Mary returned to the table. "Just in time to read Bathilda's notes. Rion, come and hear what you found for your sister."
Rion sat in the floor next to the wireless, while Regina flopped in the corner of the couch. She didn't light the lamp next to her and so, appeared in shadow. "Bill said he'll try to come back this afternoon, after he's made his contacts."
Mary raised her head from the old parchment. "Oh? I would've thought he wouldn't be here again until tomorrow morning."
From the semi-darkness came the disembodied voice. "Don't you remember what he said? We have nothing but time."
"I remember," Mary conceded, returning to the story of Hester Storm for the bits not included in History of Magic. Hester was the daughter of Muggle parents. They didn't send her to Hogwarts, probably beat her if she used magic. She was around fifteen when she had the outbreak that got her jailed. Bathilda doesn't say anything about a parasite. That's something probably not known about until Newt Scamander. She supposes the wolf was a werewolf and likely Hester's mate."
"An Obscurial and a werewolf, just like Bill and me," said Regina from the dark.
"No, not like you and Weasley. He's ten years older than you and married, and you have your magical family, some who risked their lives for information to help you," Reg said.
"I know," came the voice from the dark corner, "but Bill's wife was born part Veela. He and I, on the other hand, had our conditions thrust upon us. I think that's why he's so helpful to me. You can't deny that bond."
Oh dear, Mary said to herself, her fancy for him is stronger than I thought.
"I can correct your idea," said Rion. "Bill said he doesn't run, unlike what you did and unlike the werewolf that bit him. You have more in common with whoever that was than you do with Bill."
The silence from the corner of the tent was heavy with anger. "Keep your sticky beak out of it," Regina finally said.
"That's enough from both of you," their father barked. "Go on, Mary, this is important."
Mary returned to the parchment, scanning the small, beautiful script written decades before she was born. "Hmm, she writes about Hester riding on the back of the wolf into the woods during the full moon. I suppose she went with him to protect him and control him from biting anyone."
She lifted her eyes to her daughter, but Regina said nothing. "It says no one ever reported a witch in Hester's new village, so she either learned to live without magic or she convinced the villagers she was no danger to them, possibly doing favors for them."
"Like the Hopping Pot story from Beadle the Bard," said Marty. "The good wizard used his pot to help his neighbors."
Mary smiled at her youngest sitting across from her. "That's a good comparison. Bathilda's conclusion was Hester's acceptance of herself and contentment conquered the 'affliction' or, as we know, starved the parasite, and she never ost herself to the smoke again."
"Contentment," said Rion. "Just work on that, Regina."
"How thick can you get?" Regina asked, and Mary knew as she browsed the notes that her daughter had rolled her eyes. "What am I supposed to be contented about?"
Reg cleared his throat, and the teenagers stopped bickering. "Anything else, Mary?"
Mary shook her head. "That's all about Hester. The rest of the parchment seems to be other items to consider including or not, like the two witches and wizard who created the Linking Spell."
"Three for Two Become One?" said Reg with a chuckle. They'd always been open with their children about sex theoretically, if not individually, but still Mary blushed in answering.
"Apparently, they took turns. Oh, Regina, listen. Bathilda writes she'd talked to people in the Ministry about the history of The Trace. She thought from what she'd earned it had to do with the wands."
"What?" Regina asked, stepping out of the shadows.
Mary's pulse beat rapidly, hope rising. "Rion, get the wand we took from the Snatcher who held me on the beach." She read the historian and researchers notes.
"I understand the necessity in managing the behavior of under-age magic users with an omniscient, Sword of Damocles detection hanging over them, when it actually seems to be a simple matter of matching the witch or wizard with the wand registered to them. Otherwise, there'd be rampant trading of wands among the young and no way to monitor their activity."
She took the hazel wood wand from Rion and held it out to Regina. The Ministry won't connect you with this one. You can do magic again."