I. The House of Bordeaux
Sirona Solan-Bordeaux had never been one for running off and doing fun things while her younger siblings sat at home. She typically felt that it was unfair to them; besides, her mother needed her help looking after all of them — especially little Zacharus, who would be turning two years old in the upcoming month. However, today was different; Sirona's older brother had finally popped back up, and he was determined to take her out for a good time, to the final match for the Quidditch World Cup to be exact.
"Mum, have you seen my bag?" Sirona called from the top of the stairs. After getting no response, Sirona sighed and went back to throwing things around her and her little sister's shared bedroom. Thirteen-year-old Cissonia frowned as she twirled her blonde hair around her finger.
"Stop making such a mess of things. It was in the closet last I checked."
Sirona flung open the door to the small closet and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the green bag lying on the floor. She picked it up, brushed off the dust and opened it, peering inside to make sure nothing was missing out of it. Sirona loved her siblings dearly, but when you were the eldest daughter and had three little sisters, things tended to get borrowed without permission and rarely showed back up again.
"Have fun on your big day with Saegon," Cissonia mumbled bitterly, falling back onto her bed in dramatic fashion. Sirona frowned. Throwing her bag on her own bed, she walked over to Cissonia's and sat beside her sister.
"Come on, Sonia. I'm sure if he'd had the money, Saegon would've taken the lot of us."
Cissonia rolled her eyes.
"No, he wouldn't have, and you know it. You're the only one of us he considers a true sister," she muttered.
Sirona sighed. Their mother, Cybele Bordeaux, had been young when she'd moved from France to Wales, the free-spirited only daughter of a respectable French wizarding family who was determined to do her own thing and follow her own rules. In Wales, she had met Michael Solan. Of course, accidents happened, and Cybele fell pregnant with Saegon, so of course the two rushed to get married. Six years after Saegon was born, Sirona came. To hear Saegon tell it, they had been the happiest family in the world; Sirona barely remembered her father as she had been so young when he had abandoned them.
Then again, Michael Solan hadn't left without reason. As it turned out, Cybele had been unfaithful, and when she fell pregnant with Cissonia by her Muggle paramour, Trevor Cromwell, Michael decided to up and leave. Unfortunately, he had forgotten that his two children had had nothing to do with their mother's infidelity. Saegon and Sirona didn't hear from their father again after he left.
After that, the family moved to London to live with Mr. Cromwell. They stayed there for about nine years, and in that time Damara and Damona were born. Sirona had never really been bothered by Mr. Cromwell; after all, she didn't really remember her own father too well, and she was happy to have her three younger sisters. Saegon, however, wasn't too taken with Mr. Cromwell; in fact, Saegon sort of hated the man, and everyone knew it.
Then, in the summer of 1989, right before Sirona was to start school, Mr. Cromwell died suddenly in a freak accident involving a tree being uprooted from the ground and landing atop him. It had happened just in their back garden while Sirona, her mother and her sisters were out shopping. Cybele had come home to find the father of three of her children dead. Shortly afterwards, Saegon had arrived home from the park.
Later that night, Saegon had confided in Sirona that he thought that he might have been at the house when Mr. Cromwell died, but that he couldn't really remember, that his brain was all fuzzy at the time, and that he wasn't sure why he would leave the house without getting help if he had actually been present. Though, he swore to Merlin that he didn't kill the man. To protect her brother from suspicion, Sirona never spoke a word of what he'd told her. Saegon might have hated the man, but he loved his younger siblings, and he would never have done anything to take their father away from them. Or at least, that's what Sirona always told herself, and she nor anyone else had proof to the contrary. Later, she would learn just what it was like to not be able to remember certain things.
After the incident with Mr. Cromwell, the family moved to Ottery St. Catchpole in Devon. In the years following that, Saegon graduated, got a job and finally moved out, and their mother met yet another man, a wizard by the name of Augustus Macmillan. It was hardly a shock to anyone when Zacharus was born.
The Bordeaux children may have had different fathers, but they did love each other very much. However, as kids, Saegon did let some of his anger for Mr. Cromwell rub off on his younger half-sisters. He grew out of it eventually, but Cissonia still held a grudge, as grudge-holding was one of her many talents. Saegon had tried to make it up to her in the past, but the age difference between the two left them with hardly anything in common to actually bond over.
"Don't say that, Sonia," Sirona chided. "Saegon loves all of us the same. Besides, you don't even like Quidditch."
Cissonia rolled her eyes.
"So? I might have still wanted to go," she muttered, causing Sirona to roll her own eyes and open her mouth to respond. However, she was cut short by her mother's voice calling her from a lower level. Upon grabbing her things, going downstairs and seeing her brother standing in the entryway of the house, Sirona smiled and wrapped her arms around him tightly. Saegon chuckled.
There was no doubt that Saegon and Sirona were siblings. They both strongly resembled their mother with sharp, angular faces and shiny black hair, except for their icy, grey eyes, the ones that could seemingly pierce right through you if they so chose for them to; those belonged to their father. At least, that was what Saegon had told Sirona. Since Sirona didn't really remember her father, she was only reminded of Saegon when she caught her own gaze in a reflective surface.
"Come on," Saegon said, pulling Sirona off him, "let's go before Mum makes me sit down for tea with that slimy git she calls a boyfriend."
"Don't be rude," Sirona chastised. "He's all right — sometimes."
Saegon rolled his eyes and held out his arm, waiting for his sister to take it. She eyed him suspiciously before realising what it was they were about to do. She shook her head and backed away, clutching onto the strap of her bag.
"We're Apparating? No. No way! I hate it, and I won't do it. What if we get splinched?"
"Have a little more faith in your big brother, ay? I won't splinch you. Besides, I asked if you wanted to get up early, and you said no, so Apparating's the only way we'll get there on time."
Sirona sighed, feeling her stomach twist itself into knots. If she had known it had been a choice between an early awakening and Apparation, then she would have chosen to forego sleep altogether.
"Well, we haven't got all day, have we?" Saegon said, starting to get annoyed.
"Wait, darling, before you are leaving, I —"
Sirona's mother was walking towards them, speaking in her moderate French accent and carrying Zacharus on her hip, but she didn't get to hear what her mother was trying to say because Saegon grabbed her hand suddenly. Before she knew it, Sirona felt as though she were being squeezed through a tube the size of a straw, and with a loud pop, she was suddenly standing in the middle of a forest. Sirona quickly doubled over and began emptying the contents of her stomach onto the forest floor. Saegon laughed, patting her on the back.
"That's it; get it all out," he said, eyeing a few passing witches and wizards who had Apparated in the area as well. "She's fine. Still a bit new to the sensation is all."
"I hate you," Sirona said through heaves, which only caused Saegon to laugh harder and clap her on the back.
"Come on, Sis. We're in the second field; I've already paid and set up camp."
Sirona grudgingly followed Saegon out of the forest and to the misty fields. She looked at all the different tents, laughing as they passed one with live peacocks tethered to it.
"Don't the Muggles suspect something?"
"Oh, who cares what the Muggles think? Have a bit of fun, Rona."
"Cissonia's angry with you, you know?" she informed her brother.
"When is she ever not angry with me?" Saegon teased, causing Sirona to lightly punch him on the arm.
"You should take her and the twins out too, not just me. She already thinks you favour me over them."
Saegon sighed.
"I don't even know what Sonia likes," he said. "And the twins and I get along just fine, thank you very much. Just last week, I sent them a few things I picked up from Zonko's."
Sirona frowned, seeming to have remembered something.
"So, you're the reason that the house smells of Dungbombs and the reason that my teacup bit my nose the other day," she accused. "I should have known."
Saegon shrugged.
"I figured they'd liked to be stocked up before their first year at Hogwarts."
Sirona gave him a knowing look, and he rolled his eyes.
"Well, Damara enjoys them at least," he grumbled.
"And poor Damona is the one she's testing them out on. If I see her using them at school, I will confiscate them," Sirona said.
"Oh, please, since when do you take your prefect duties seriously? You just want them for yourself; don't lie. I'll be sure to warn Mara about your evil plan," he teased, stopping in front of an ordinary looking tent. In front of it was a small sign that had been staked into the ground which read SOLAN-BORDEAUX.
"Why don't you get settled in? I've still got to fetch some water." And with that, Saegon was off, leaving Sirona alone in front of the tent. Sirona removed her bag and tossed it just inside the tent. She was about to follow it inside when she heard some familiar voices.
"Was wondering when you'd show up."
"Here to reprimand people for rule breaking?"
"There were two girls riding toy broomsticks out in the open for all to see not twenty minutes ago."
"If you hurry, I'm sure you could still lecture them."
Sirona rolled her eyes, but she couldn't stop the smile that spread across her features as she turned to face the Weasley twins.
"Of all the spots in this field, and I get landed in front of you two? My luck is non-existent," she quipped.
Sirona had a sort of love/hate relationship with the Weasley twins, more love than hate really. There were some days where she found them funny and even used her extensive knowledge of Herbology and Potions to help them concoct fun, new things, if they asked nicely enough. And then there were other days where she found herself on the wrong side of a Weasley twin prank, and on those days suffice it to say that she wasn't too fond of them.
She supposed her love/hate relationship with the twins began in their first year, on the Hogwarts Express to be specific. Saegon, who had been Head Boy at the time, had left Sirona to find her own sitting arrangements, as he had needed to get to the prefects' carriage early. That's when she'd been invited into a compartment by a sixth-year boy, none other than Charlie Weasley himself. After just looking at him once, little eleven-year-old Sirona had planned every detail of their future together, right down to the name of their fifth grandchild.
Unfortunately, Charlie had been a prefect, and he left the compartment shortly after the train had gotten a move on. That was when Sirona had been left alone with the Weasley twins for the first time in her life. They had been rather nice when Charlie had been with them, but as soon as Charlie was out of the compartment door, the teasing commenced. Suffice it to say that they'd seen just how red Sirona's face and ears blushed when Charlie had been there. Of course, blackmail was never too low a standard for the twins to sink to, so for the better half of her first year at Hogwarts, Sirona spent her time keeping watch for the Weasley twins and helping them plan out their pranks so that they wouldn't run off and tell their older brother about the monumentally embarrassing crush she harboured for him.
Though, somewhere along the way, something had gone terribly wrong. The Weasley twins had a sort of charm that no one with a soul could resist for long, and Sirona began to actually like their company. It was Stockholm at its finest in Sirona's opinion. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that even when the two of them did get caught doing something particularly stupid, they left her name out of the mix. Sirona was fairly certain that she was the only one of the Weasley twins' friends or close acquaintances that hadn't gotten landed in detention because of them. For that, she was thankful. Of course, maybe their weird friendship had spawned from The Incident during their second year.
Of course, with her new title as prefect, which she had acquired the previous year, Sirona was bound to butt heads with the twins. They still weren't over the fact that Dumbledore had actually made her a prefect in the first place. Sure, Sirona had never actually gotten caught breaking school rules by professors, but they had all just figured that Dumbledore knew all. Apparently, Sirona's prefect badge was proof that even their great headmaster wasn't omniscient.
"So, how is life at the What's-it-Bordeauxes'?" George asked, walking over with his hands in his pockets, causing Sirona to roll her eyes as she turned back to her tent, finally entering it; the twins followed suit, not waiting on an invitation.
"Reckon it had to be better than ours," Fred continued, falling onto an old, lumpy looking couch that smelled of mothballs. "Certainly, your mum's not miffed at your O.W.L. scores."
"Mm, so I take it that Mummy Weasley isn't too happy with you two then? You wouldn't have done so bad at the O.W.L.s if you had only applied yourselves," she said.
"Wow, she sounds just like Mum, doesn't she, Fred?"
"Next thing you know, she'll be throwing away our inventions!"
Sirona quirked a brow, intrigued.
"Inventions? Go on."
"Well, we'd planned on bringing samples before Mum nicked them all from us," George said.
"Six months work down the drain," Fred continued dramatically.
"Is this why you haven't popped over all summer? Family drama?" Sirona teased.
"Oh, is that your way of saying that you missed us, Rona? I'm flattered," George said.
"Leaving me alone to change diapers and clean spittle off myself," Sirona scolded. "I had expected at least one or two Weasley adventures at a minimum; I'm only six miles north of you."
"As explained, love, our summer has been severely lacking," Fred said, dismissing her complaints with a wave of his hand. "As it were, you should have been the one rescuing us!"
Sirona rolled her eyes.
"Had I known that your mum was giving you such a time, and had I not been looking after my siblings all summer, then maybe I would've considered giving you a rescue," she said.
"All we get is a consideration?" George asked, affronted. "After all we've done for you over the years? I'm offended."
Sirona shot him a look that quite plainly asked him what on earth he was talking about. After all, most times rather than not, it was her keeping them out of trouble, not the other way around. Fred suddenly smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye.
"Bet she would've come if we'd told her that Charlie was back home."
"Oh, shut up," she said, though her face had a new tinge of pink to it.
"He's coming to the match as well," George said. "Should be here with Bill and Percy by midday."
"Oh, for the love of Merlin."
Sirona and the twins turned to the entrance of the tent to see Saegon stumbling in, two kettles full of water in his hands.
"Back so soon?" Sirona said, rushing to take one of the kettles from him. He huffed.
"Line was too long. Conjuring was much easier," he said before eyeing the Weasley twins suspiciously. "I leave you alone for two seconds, and you've already got boys in the tent."
"Not to worry, our intentions with your sister are purely honourable," Fred assured Saegon.
"Especially since we remember how scary you can be," George quipped, causing Sirona to roll her eyes.
"Cissonia's the one you should be worried about," she informed Saegon. "She's got herself a new boyfriend every other month."
"She's too young for boys," Saegon said, frowning as he put a kettle on the stove.
"Ah, yes, well, that'll stop her right," Fred said.
"Thirteen-year-olds definitely always think about what's age appropriate for them," George continued.
"I know I did," Fred said in a faux serious tone.
"Sirona, get them out of my tent before I hex them," Saegon muttered.
"Lighten up, Saegon," Sirona said; though, she made fast work of ushering the twins out of the tent, opting to follow them to theirs instead.
"I see your brother's still as charming as ever," George said.
"Still has that Slytherin ire about him. Such a pity," Fred continued.
"I wouldn't call it 'Slytherin ire;' I think he just really hates you two," Sirona informed them. Fred feigned hurt at her words, clutching his hand over his heart dramatically.
"You wound me."
"Still haven't got that fire going, Dad?" George asked.
Fred and Sirona turned to stare at Mr. Weasley, who seemed to be playing about with Muggle matchsticks. Sirona turned back to the twins, walking into their tent with them.
"So, tell me more about these inventions," she said. "What are they exactly?"
Fred and George's eyes lit up, and they began their long explanation on Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and their many different attributes. When they came to the explanation of how a Muggle boy had gotten hold of one of the Ton-Tongue Toffees, Sirona laughed.
"How thick could you be to just pick up any old thing that looks edible and eat it?" she said, laughing. Fred shrugged.
"He looked as though he would've eaten the house if it had been made of sweets," Fred quipped. "Something about a diet."
She could hear Mr. Weasley outside the tent, muttering something about Wizard-Muggle relations and the mistreatment of Muggles. The twins rolled their eyes simultaneously.
"Ignore him," they said.
"He's a bit miffed at us still," George explained.
At that time, Ginny strolled into the tent and happily hugged Sirona around her middle.
"Thought I heard you over here. Where've you been all summer?"
"Need someone to keep these two in check, do you?" Sirona laughed.
"No, there's no one alive that could keep those two in check," Ginny said. "It's just nice to have another girl around."
"I could always send Cissonia over," Sirona teased as Ginny pulled away and twisted her face in disgust. While Cissonia and Ginny were in the same year, they were complete opposites. Cissonia Cromwell-Bordeaux, who had been Sorted into Hufflepuff, spent her school days working herself about the Hogwarts Rumour Mill and into the sights of every boy she found attractive enough. She wouldn't be caught dead on a Quidditch pitch, as she loathed sports and especially hated flying.
"I still can't believe you're related to her," Ginny said. "Are you sure you're not a Weasley?"
Sirona twirled her black hair around her finger and inspected it.
"Nope, still not red," she teased. "I'll let you know if it ever changes."
"Come on, Ginny," Fred said. "You don't want her in the family."
"Yeah, it'll ruin our Gryffindor streak," George continued. "Who wants a lousy Ravenclaw in the family?"
Sirona aimed a playful kick at George, but he swiftly dodged it.
"You'd be right lucky to have me in your family."
At that moment, Saegon's voice floated into the Weasleys' tent from somewhere outside, reaching their ears with an angry assault of, "When I said to get them out of my tent, I didn't mean for you to go with them! I spent all this money for quality brother-sister time, and you'd rather spend it with those two! You only get to see them all school year!"
Sirona rolled her eyes at her brother's theatrics. Maybe he and Cissonia had more in common than she originally thought.
"Talk to you lot later then," Sirona said, ruffling Ginny's hair playfully before making her way towards the tent flap.
"We'll let you know whenever Charlie pops up," George said, smirking.
"Yeah, we know that's the only reason you bother with us," Fred said.
"With you two maybe," Sirona said, sticking out her tongue at the twins and winking at Ginny before ducking out of their tent and walking back to her own. She looked at Saegon and rolled her eyes at him.
"Must you be so rude?" she asked, flopping down on the couch. "I wasn't even gone for five whole minutes."
Saegon walked over to Sirona and trapped her head under his arm, rubbing his knuckles into her black hair as he let out a laugh.
"You'll see them all you want after summer ends. Or were you hoping to see one of the other Weasley brothers?" he teased, and Sirona groaned, pushing out of her brother's grasp and smoothing her hair.
"Not you too!" she cried, rolling off the couch to get away from him and scrambling to her feet.
"You know, that Charlie Weasley's far too old for you," Saegon said, causing Sirona to frown a bit.
"So I've been told," she said, lowering her breath to add, "five hundred thousand times since I was eleven."
"Besides, from what I've heard of Charlie Weasley, you'd have to breathe fire and sprout wings for him to even look at you, Little Sis," Saegon continued.
"Look, just because I had some schoolgirl crush on the guy when I was a kid doesn't mean I'm in love with him. I've gotten over it by now," Sirona said; though, it wasn't all completely true. She had to admit that whenever she saw Charlie Weasley, something inside her still fluttered about.
"Well, that's good," Saegon said. "Now, help me with breakfast."
Sirona followed Saegon to the tent's small kitchen and gathered some skillets and saucepans.
"Saegon?"
"Yeah?"
"You haven't mentioned it at all since you've picked me up. How is the search going?"
Saegon's facial expressions became unreadable in an instant, and Sirona busied herself with the stove as he gathered his wits. After Saegon had graduated from Hogwarts and finished an internship with the Ministry, he'd gotten a job as a low-ranking Ministry official; it wasn't anything too special, but it did equip him with the resources he needed to finally do what he'd always wanted: Saegon had been using his connections within the Ministry to hunt down his and Sirona's father.
When he had first started the search, Saegon had been optimistic that he could find their father in no time. However, it had been four years now, and Michael Solan was still in the wind. Saegon had seemingly exhausted every rumour and thoroughly search every dead-end with hardly anything to show for it.
Typically, Sirona couldn't get Saegon to shut-up about the ongoing search for their father, but today was different. He had waited for her to bring it up herself. Of course, she didn't blame him. After years of the search turning up nothing and Sirona's aloof reaction to the latter, maybe Saegon just thought that Sirona didn't really care whether their father was found, and to some extent, that was true. After all, Michael Solan abandoned them; as far at Sirona was concerned, he wasn't much of a father. Why should she care where he was or what he was doing now? Obviously, it didn't include her or Saegon, so it wasn't all that important to her. However, she knew that this was important to her brother, so for his sake, she tried to feign a bit of interest.
"I'm following some new leads," Saegon finally said after a long pause. "I think I'm finally getting close, Rona."
Sirona smiled, trying to be encouraging, but she had heard it all before. Typically, these "new leads" always turned out to be nothing more than wild goose chases in the end. Michael Solan had seemingly vanished into thin air almost one year after his speedy divorce from their mother. Though, Sirona didn't think this was so strange. After all, thirteen years ago, Voldemort had been at the peak of his power; witches and wizards were disappearing all over the place back in those times. When Sirona found herself pondering over that theory, she couldn't stop herself from thinking that maybe that's exactly what Michael Solan deserved. Maybe that was a justifiable punishment for abandoning one's own children, especially when that parent had had a child that adored them as much as Saegon had adored Michael.
"Saegon, what are you going to do?" Sirona asked curiously. "When you find him, what do you plan on saying to him?"
Saegon shrugged.
"It's funny. After all this time, you would think that would I know exactly what I was going to say, that I'd have it planned out to the smallest detail, but honestly, that part has been just as hard as finding him," he said, ending it with a sigh. Sirona threw a couple of sausages into a skillet and listened to them sizzle before Saegon spoke up again. "What would you say to him?"
Sirona stared blankly into the skillet, mulling over the question in her mind. She'd be lying to say that she'd never thought of it before. After all, no matter how much she convinced herself that she didn't care about Michael Solan, he was still, biologically at least, her and Saegon's father. There were many questions that had popped into her head, but one stood out among all the rest.
"I ask him why he left us," she said. "It was Mum that betrayed his trust, not us. We shouldn't have been punished for it."
The two stood in silence for a moment, the only sound being the sizzling and popping of the sausages inside the skillet. The topic had definitely killed the playful mood from earlier, but Sirona knew that it was best to get it out of the way in the beginning because Saegon very rarely brought it up twice in one day. Starting the day out on an uncomfortable note was far better than ending it that way in Sirona's opinion.
She rolled the sausages around in the skillet before looking over to Saegon, who was still just standing there, lost in thought. She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes.
"Oi! What d'ya think you're doing? Leaving me to cook all the breakfast? Bit sexist, don't you think? Get started on some tomatoes and eggs before I hex you," she said, trying to lighten the mood. Saegon shook from his reverie and smiled before grabbing another skillet.