She looked down at her side. The boy had been tugging at her skirt just a moment ago, but there was no five-year-old redhead standing in her shadow. Expanding her circle of inspection, she located two six-year old redheads, and well as some others of varying other ages, but Clarence was not among the Weasleys. She approached them anyway. "Molly? Have you seen one of my twins?" Jansten trailed behind her, eyes still scanning the crowd.
"Oh, hello, Keri. No, the only red-heads I've seen were mine. Your devil ran off on you?"
Mrs. Tragyl shook her head. "No, I left Menteron home. But Clarence is missing. He was just here a minute ago."
"I don't see him, Mum," Jansten said. "Want me to check Platform 9 and 3/4?"
She nodded slowly, worried. "Please do. I'll meet you right here."
"You two go with him," Molly Weasley added to her two oldest. "Hurry, or you'll miss your train." The three children ran through the pillar, two of them pushing Hogwarts carts. She kept a sharp eye on her remaining brood, clearly not wanting any of them to follow Clarence's example. Mrs. Tragyl's eyes continued to search the crowd, more and more frantically.
Jansten reappeared several minutes later, shaking his head. "Didn't see him anywhere. Sorry, Mum."
"Not your fault, dear," she assured him. Then her face darked in worried anger. "Clarence had better hope it isn't his fault either." Only when she considered what events outside of her son's influence could have caused his disappearance did she regret the words. She hoped it was entirely Clarence's fault. A disobedient, wandering child was far preferable to a kidnapped one.
Jansten looked at one of the open doors of the Muggle tube trains. "You don't think he's on one of them things, do you?" Mrs. Tragyl followed his gaze and shuddered at the thought. "He might have gotten curious about them and gone for a closer look."
It sounded entirely too much like something Clarence would do. She almost would rather the boy be kidnapped. Pay the ransom, get him back, simple. At least somebody would be seeing to his needs. But if he sneaked onto a Muggle train? He could end up anywhere. It could be days before anyone found him. Where would her baby find food and shelter until then? Clarence might be brilliant, but he was still only five, and completely ignorant of Muggle ways.
Molly helped look for him until her own twins slipped away. Once she found them again, she left, promising to send Arthur to help once she got back to the Burrow. Mr. Weasley arrived some time later with a detailed schematic of the London tube network and where Clarence might have gotten to. They spend hours apparating between stations, until they finally met back at King's Cross, where they had left Jansten, in case Clarence came back on his own. "Anything?" Mrs. Tragyl asked anxiously.
Both Arthur and Jansten shook their heads. "A pleaseman keeps asking where my parents are, but I haven't see Clarence."
"I'll speak to the Department of Misplaced Children," Arthur promised. "Somehow Fred and George ran away to Ireland two summers ago. It only took them a day and a half to find them. Of course, they weren't exactly keeping a low profile. Meantime, you should go home, and hope for word. You won't accomplish anything more here."
Mrs. Tragyl nodded, not trusting her voice. "Thanks, Arthur," she said quietly. She packed Jansten off toward a taxi. The ride passed mostly in silence. It dropped them off at the end of their driveway, which stretched windingly through a dense forest. The walk took almost as long as the taxi ride. "Menteron!" she called before she had stepped completely through the front door and into the foyer.
The boy appeared at the top of the stairs looking guilty. "What? It wasn't me, honest!"
"Clarence didn't say he had any special plans at the train station today, did he?"
The other twin shook his head in confusion. Whatever accusation he was expecting, that wasn't it. "None that he told me. Why don't you ask him?" He looked down the wide staircase and noticed, of the four Tragyls who had left for King's Cross Station, only two had come back. "Where is Clarence?"
She had been able to stand it while there was something she could actively do. But when the mirror image of her missing son asked where his twin was, she broke down. She sank down into a fancy sitting room chair that was built more for looks than to actually be used and started to cry. Jansten was immediately at her side, holding her in his arms like she always used to do for him when he cried, and perching precariously on the chair's armrest. Menteron ran down the stairs, making an unholy racket as he did so.
She forced her sobbing under control, and looked up. Menteron was standing two feet in front of her, looking lost. Brent stared down at the scene from the top of the stairs, and seven-year-old Valr stood in the doorway to the kitchen, stunned to see his mother in tears. "I know you really liked it, but Menteron didn't mean to break the vase, Mum," Brent said. "It was an accident. Kib scared him."
She shook her head, unable to get upset over a stupid vase. Her baby was gone. "Clarence is missing," she wished she'd managed to sound less dead, giving this news to the boys. The faces of her remaining children looked surprised, then scared. Menteron looked downright terrified. "He - he disappeared at the train station."
"He said he was joking." Menteron looked pale.
Keriesa Tragyl speared the twin with a look that had made much older and wiser wizards reconsider her threat value. "What did he say?"
The boy wrung his hands together, squirming under her unwavering gaze. Not even when he had cut Kib's hair into zigzags had she looked at him so menancingly. "He just said that he was going to see Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts!"
Menteron cringed. "But then he laughed and said 'in six years'. So I thought he was joking. He talks about Hogwarts all the time. I thought it was just another ramble."
"Hogwarts." If he was miserable and lost, she'd find him, kiss him, and hold him tight. If he was kidnapped, she'd tear down heaven and earth to get him back. But if the boy was there, perfectly safe, having the time of his life, she'd kill him. "I need to write a letter to Headmaster Dumbledore." Her voice was cold, and the boys scrambled out of her way as she stalked toward the study.
"If he's there, Clarence is so dead," Valr whispered. His brothers could only nod. When the silence began to get oppressive, he asked suddenly, "What happened at the station, Jansten?"
Jansten shook his head, and ran a hand through his blond hair. "Nothing, really. One minute he was there, the next he was gone. He'd been doing it all day, so at first we didn't think much of it, but he always came back fairly soon. The last time, he just didn't come back."
Silence reigned again in the brightly lit foyer. The speckled red sunlight of sunset streaming through the windows mocked the gloomy atmosphere of the brothers. Mrs. Tragyl returned, shoving a folded piece of parchment into an envelope. "Get Odyssius, somebody." Brent took the stairs two at a time, and returned shortly with a large Eagle Owl. She attached the note to the bird's leg, and let him out the front door. "To Hogwarts, Dumbledore," she instructed.
Before she closed the door, Mr. Tragyl Apperated right in front of her. They both jumped. He studied her for a moment, then asked, "What's wrong? Did Harris miss his train?"
Mrs. Tragyl shook her head. "No, as far as I know, Harris is fine and enjoying the ride to Hogwarts." She checked the position of the sun. "Should be just about to Hogsmeade by now." She closed the door as her husband stepped into the house. "The problem is Clarence."
His eyes swept the crowd of boys, and lingered a moment on Menteron. "Where is the Firetop?" he asked levelly, looking back toward his wife.
"Menteron thinks he may have stowed away aboard the Hogwarts Express. Jansten and I spent the entire afternoon looking for him all over England, with Arthur Weasley's help."
"I never left King's Cross Station, in case Clarence showed up there again," Jansten clarified, letting his brothers know that his day was not nearly as exciting as their mother made it out to sound.
"Arthur said he would inform the Department of Misplaced Children for us, and I just sent an owl to Headmaster Dumbledore, though he likely won't get it until after the welcoming feast. I've been so sick with worry all day."
Mr. Tragyl turned narrowed eyes on Menteron. "You know he's at Hogwarts?"
Menteron shook his head so violently his short hair splayed out around his head. "No! He was just talking about Hogwarts before he left. It's really not surprising. That's where Harris was going. He just said he couldn't wait to see it. He didn't say 'hey, Menteron, I'm running off to Hogwarts today, so when Mum and Dad flip their lids, tell 'em I said I'm ok.' He just said 'I'm going to see Hogwarts . . . in six years.'"
"He's been quoting Hogwarts, A History for the past month," Valr added. "If he was going to run off to any place, it would be there."
"Current situation excepted," Jansten began, "Clarence is pretty smart. He wouldn't just get on a Muggle train alone without knowing where it would take him, or having some plan for food and shelter in the near future. But he knew where the Hogwarts Express was going, and he knew they'd feed him and send him home when they found him." He nodded as though this decided the matter. "My only questions though are, when did he go through the pillar and how did he get on the train without getting caught?"
McGonagall watched the small boy all through dinner. He appeared to be genuinely enjoying himself and the company of the other Ravenclaws. "Was it wise to Sort him so young?" she asked Albus as dessert appeared on the tables.
The old wizard looked at her with an amused twinkle. "Had we not, we may have had a riot," he told her in that serious tone that meant he was having fun with her. She pursed her lips. He raised a hand placatingly. "In all honesty, I know not. He still has six more formative years before he would normally have come to the Sorting Ceremony. Though, I suspect, he will more likely mellow and become more like a Ravenclaw, than become wilder and more like the Gryffindor most people expected him to become tonight. I expect the Hat took that into consideration."
"And if he doesn't even come to Hogwarts?"
"Posh," Albus made a dismissive gesture that suggested the possibilty was not worth consideration. "Any Tragyl born to Keriesa and Waltr will attend Hogwarts. Keriesa would never let them go to Durmstrang. And Waltr thinks Beaubaxtons is for fanciful rich kids, not for real wizards." His voice had altered minutely, letting her know that he was quoting, or at least paraphrasing, Waltr Tragyl.
That had not been what she meant. "There have been Squibs in the Tragyl family before this."
Albus chuckled. "Clarence is not among their number. He has already manifested his first two acts of accidental magic. In the first, he set a couch on fire in a moment of anger. In the second, he was scared enough of getting caught, that he made himself Unnoticable while he stowed away on the Hogwarts Express. Had he not been surround by so many untrained first-years to confuse the issue, the Ministry would surely have come down on an accidental use of such a long duration."
McGonagall sat back in her chair and regarded her slice of apple pie. She picked at it thoughtfully. "And in six years? He won't be Sorted again, surely?"
Albus shook his head, his beard only barely missing a dropped blob of whipped cream. "Certainly not. He is now a Ravenclaw. When the time comes we will decide whether he should take the First Year Journey again or not. But for now . . . " He rose to make his start-of term announcements. McGonagall primly pressed a napkin to her lips. Her pie was less than half finished, but she was no longer hungry.
As the students began to push, shove, and file out of the Great Hall, Clarence approached the staff table nervously. Albus looked down at him with a severe expression, though his eyes were still kindly. Clarence flushed and looked at the floor. "Mr. Tragyl, what you have done was wrong."
Clarence nodded, not raising his eyes. "I know," he said miserably.
"Any number of things could have happened to you, but I will leave it up to you parents for the lecturing. I am not yet your teacher." The boy snuck a quick look up at these last words, his eyes shining, not with tears of regret or shame, but with excited pride. McGonagall feared the boy was not in the least sorry for his actions. He may know he had been 'bad', but nothing would make him believe it was a 'mistake'.
McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Clarence went up to Dumbledore's office once the students had cleared out of the Hall. The walk passed silently. Clarence spent most of it eagerly taking at everything they passed. She almost wished he was truly starting at Hogwarts this year. He would clearly be an avid student. With luck, that curiosity and drive to learn would not diminish in the next six years.
"Tootsie Pop," Dumbledore told a suit of armor, which then moved out of the way.
Clarence watched this interplay with wide-eyed fascination. "Wicked," he breathed. Albus smiled brightly at him.
They went up the stairs, into the Headmaster's office. An owl waited impatiently on his chair. Albus greeted the bird pleasantly, gave it an owl treat, and detached the letter. Clarence eyed the owl nervously. "What do Mum and Dad say?"
Albus cleared his throat and began to read aloud. "Headmaster, our son Clarence disappeared this afternoon at Kings Cross Station just before the Hogwarts Express left. One of my other sons, Menteron, suggests he may have wished to see Hogwarts. Please keep an eye out for a small five-year-old with red hair. If you see him, kindly let me know, then turn him over to Pringle for detention. If Clarence isn't there, let me know that, too. Yours, Keriesa Tragyl."
McGonagall raised a brow. "If your mother wants you sent to Pringle, you are in serious trouble, young man."
Clarence cringed, though it seemed more a play for sympathy than real worry or regret. The boy had some Slytherin traits, too, it appeared. "Who's Mr. Pringle?"
Albus answered, "He was our caretaker before he retired."
"He enjoyed chaining disobedient children to ceilings and letting them scream," McGonagall added in a disapproving voice. Clarence looked taken aback at this method of punishment. Not yet scared, but certainly less complacent.
Albus tapped the note thoughtfully. "I expect Hagrid's owl passed this one in flight. Still, I should reply." He pulled out a blank parchment and a quill. He dipped the feather into an inkpot, his eyes going vague as he considered what to write. Dashing down a few lines, he handed the paper to Clarence. "How does that sound?"
Clarence read aloud for McGonagall's benefit. "Mr. and Mrs. Tragyl, I hope you recieved our first notice telling you Clarence is safe and accounted for. Mr. Pringle is no longer a part of the staff, so I was unable to fulfill your request. If you cannot make it to Hogwarts tonight to pick him up, he will spend the night with the first year Ravenclaws." The boy looked up, his face the very definition of surprised delight. "Oh, I hope she can't make it tonight!" He looked back down and picked up where he left off. "Aside from him being here in the first place, the boy has been no trouble and endeared," Clarence blushed, "himself to many of the students and staff. Yours, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster."
"Would you like to add a postscript, so she knows you are fine?"
Clarence nodded, accepting the quill, and wrote, PS. Harris in Slytherin, like Father. I'm Ravenclaw. Tell Valr he owes me a Chocolate Frog. I lost my House ten points for stowing away. Mum, it wasn't Menteron's fault. - Clarence He looked at what he'd written, shook his head, and scribbled out the last line until it was completely illegible. No sense in casting doubt on Menteron's innocence, on the off chance he hadn't admitted this was his idea.
"Are you going, Menteron?" Clarence had asked.
His brother shook his head. "Nothing to see, Mum said we won't even go on Platform 9 and 3/4."
"Still, it's a Muggle train station."
Menteron shook his head. "It'll be boring. Unless you plan to sneak aboard and see Hogwarts yourself?"
"Sounds good to me!"
Menteron looked up sharply. "You wouldn't."
Clarence had shaken his head, gesturing placatingly. "Joking, Menteron. Joking." But the idea had been born that moment and he knew he was probably lying.
Clarence handed the letter to Dumbledore. He scanned the two lines, then handed it to McGonagall. She also read what Clarence had written, folded the page, and attached it to Odyssius' leg. The owl flew out the open window. Three sharp raps came from the office door. Albus invited the knocker in, and the door opened. "Professor Vector," he greeted her with a smile.
"The Ravenclaws are all set for the night. I was wondering about our youngest House member, though."
"Clarence, this is Professor Vector, the Head of Ravenclaw House," Albus introduced her.
Clarence gave a bow like he'd seen his father give once. "Ma'am."
She smiled, her eyes alight. "Isn't he the little charmer."
Albus laughed with her and even McGonagall's stern expression twitched momentarily toward a smile. "Put him in the Ravenclaw first year domitory for the night. I'll send someone to fetch him when his parents come."
Vector nodded. "Come along, dear." Clarence slipped his hand into hers, and followed her back down the narrow stairway leading to Dumbledore's office.
McGonagall and Dumbledore exchanged a look when the door had closed. "Are you certain that boy is only five? I have third years with far worse grammar, spelling, and handwriting, nevermind manners. How did you know he could read already?"
Albus smiled in amusement, "He was Sorted into Ravenclaw. It was an educated guess. Did you want to have him start this year, then, Minerva?"
She shook her head quickly. "That would be rewarding his wrong-doing."
"An owl, Mum!" Brent called out, from his post at a north-facing window.
"Odyssius?" she asked, coming into the dining room at a run. Mr. Tragyl, and several boys trickled in behind her.
Brent pushed open the window to let the owl in. "No, this one's white." In a moment, the snowy owl alighted on Brent's arm, making the announcement redundant.
Mrs. Tragyl unwound the missive, and read aloud, "Tragyls, Clarence has arrived at Hogwarts. He is well. Headmaster will contact you after the Welcoming Feast. -Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds" She looked at the owl. "Thank you, no reply." Brent gave the bird a treat and some water. When it finished, it flew out the window. "I suppose I'll tell Arthur to call off the search." She left the room at a brisk walk that the boys knew to stay out of the way of.
Mr. Tragyl scowled at nothing. "Jansten!" he snapped suddenly.
The current oldest boy of the house approached his father cautiously. "Sir?"
"I want you to pack overnight bags for yourself and all of your younger brothers save Clarence. Be ready to leave and in the foyer in two hours."
"Yes, sir!" He and his brothers all but fled the room.
"I'm glad I'm not Clarence," Valr declared as they scrambled up the stairs. The others could only agree. "What do you think mum and dad'll do to him?"
"If they're sending us away, I don't think we want to know," Jansten confided. The group of boys crowded into the first bedroom on the right, second floor. Jansten quickly packed what he'd need in the next few hours, then tossed the bag to Menteron. The smaller boy staggered under its sudden weight, but stayed upright. "Bring that downstairs. Valr, your room next." All the boys but Menteron crossed the hall and entered another bedroom.
Menteron dropped the bag and dragged to toward the stairs. When he reached the top, he just pushed it over and let it roll down into the foyer. As he watched it fall, his father left the dining room and joined their mother in the parlor, where the fireplace was. Curious, and using the piece of luggage as an excuse to eavesdrop, he sat on the top carpetted stair, and slid down as though sledding. He crashed into Jansten's bag at the bottom, but quickly reclaimed his feet. He dragged the bag toward the parlor.
Mum and Father were speaking to Arthur Weasly still. "I can take a few, but the Burrow is already crowded, what with some of Molly's family still here for Charlie's off-to-Hogwarts party." The head turned away for a moment, then spoke again. "Fred and George request the twins."
"Menteron will be one of them, then," Mum said. "Would you also take Brent and Kiblan? They're eight and three."
"Not a problem," Mr. Weasley assured her. "Percy's eight, too, and Ginny's also three."
In a moment, Mr. Weasley's head was gone. Father threw down another pinch of floo powder and called out, "Dragus Avery!"
Another head appeared where Mr. Weasley's had been. This one was brown haired, with a neatly trimmed mustache. "Tragyl," the new man said carefully.
"Avery," Mr. Tragyl returned in the same tone. "I beg a favor of you." Mr. Avery raised an eyebrow, showing little interest. Menteron was glad he was going to the Weasleys rather than the Averys. He didn't like this guy. Mr. Tragyl continued, "I need to send two of my boys somewhere for the night. I was hoping you would take them."
Mr. Avery pressed his lips together, as though weighing the cost of watching two boys with the possible benefit of being owed a favor. "Their ages?"
"Jansten's ten and Valr is seven."
Mr. Avery nodded slowly. "Very well. When should I expect them?"
"Two hours." Mr. Avery nodded acknowledgement. Then the fire was just a fire again.
"Why Avery?" Mum asked when he was gone. "You know I don't trust the Averys."
Father sighed. "His wife is my first cousin, and Dragus was a childhood friend, Keri. And you know I don't like the Weasleys."
Mum glared angrily. "Arthur and Molly are harmless, which is more than can be said about most of your 'childhood friends'."
"Would you rather I sent them to Lucious Malfoy, then?"
Menteron backed away, not wanting to get discovered listening in on another of their arguments. His foot caught in the strap of Jansten's bag, and he tripped, falling into a table and knocking it over. In hindsight, he should have stayed still and just suffered through the fight. Both parents came out of the parlor and found him sprawled on the ground. "I, I was just bringing down Jansten's bag. I didn't mean to listen -" he stopped when Father scowled and raised a finger for silence.
"You were throwing that bag down the stairs when I came into the parlor."
Menteron thought fast. "Jansten got mad and wanted me to make sure I didn't break anything." He took stock of their expressions. Mum might have believed him, but Father wasn't buying it for a minute. Time to change tactics. He looked back toward the stairs. He was in luck. Valr had frozen half way down, carrying a bag of his own. "Valr! Didn't Jansten tell me to make sure I didn't break nothing?"
Valr waffled less than a moment between truth and backing up his brother. "Yeah. Said you could have busted open the toothpaste and gotten it all over his stuff." He dragged his bag down a few more steps. "So did ya? I got six Every Flavor Beans riding on it with Brent."
Menteron shook his head, "Nope, everything is toothpaste free." He frowned, considering what might happen if Father looked, and there was toothpaste all over the place. "Well, it was before I tripped over the bag," he added, just in case.
"Check again. Brent's got one that looks like it might be mud flavored." Menteron stole another look at his parents. Mum was definitely convinced. Father appeared less certain. Somehow neither adult had ever twigged to the fact that Valr was an excellent liar.
They opened the bag, and Menteron pulled out an intact tube of toothpaste. "Bugger," Valr complained. "He's gonna get my probable vomit one." They put the toothpaste back, zipped the bag and stood. "C'mon. Jansten'll probably be nearly to your room by now, and you know he tell what's your stuff and what's Clarence's." Their parents stood back and let the boys escape. Safe. "You so owe me ten Every Flavor Beans for that," Valr told him as soon as they were out of earshot.
"You'll get them," Menteron promised ferverently.
"What did you hear?"
"Me, Kib, and Brent are getting sent to the Weasleys, which Father doesn't like. You and Jansten are going to the Averys, which Mum really doesn't like. I still don't know what they're gonna do about Clarence, and I guess Lulli's taking care of Tryna."
Less than two hours later, the five boys had gathered, with packed overnight bags, in the foyer. Mrs. Tragyl joined them with Odyssius a short while later. She unwrapped the note attached, and read it to herself, her brows raising in surprise. She gave the bird to Brent. Without being told, he brought the owl up to its perch on the third floor. Mr. Tragyl read the note next, and looked at four boys. "Jansten, and Valr, you first. You're going to Mr. Avery's house until tomorrow."
"What did the note say?" Valr asked, knowing that, in his father's current mood, he risked punishment by calling attention to himself.
"Harris is a Slytherin."
"Blast!" Valr exclaimed, almost involuntarily. "I owe Clarence a Chocolate Frog. I said he'd be Gryffindor." He shook himself out of the distraction. "But I meant, what does it say about Clarence?" He hoped he wasn't sticking his neck in a noose.
"He is still safe and accounted for. We are fetching him tonight," Mrs. Tragyl told him testily, "Just as soon as you five get to where you're spending the night." Brent came running down the stairs, the owl having been securely returned to its home, as his parents and brothers trooped into the parlor. "You're going to Avery House. Be polite, but don't listen too much to Mr. Avery's philosophy."
Mr. Tragyl shook his head and rolled his eyes, annoyed. "Go," he instructed with an impatient wave. The two boys each threw down a pinch of floo powder, and disappeared.
"You three are off to The Burrow. Let's go. Kib, you hold on tight to Brent's hands, and don't say anything until you get there, y'hear?" The little boy nodded solemnly. Still unable to properly pronounce the letter 'r', sending him on his first solo floo travel to a location identified as 'the Burrow' seemed . . . unwise. Mrs. Tragyl had already had one missing child scare today.
Brent and Kib took the first turn, then Menteron followed a moment later. Mr. and Mrs. Tragyl were left alone in their parlor. Then Lulli and Tryna entered. Lulli carried bag nearly as large as she was filled with various accessories neccessary for the overnight care of a two-year old. Tryna waddled behind her, gripping the house elf's pillowcase for balance, and laughing.
For the first time since he arrived home that evening, Mr. Tragyl broke into a smile. "Hey, princess."
"Daddeee!" she squealed and ran into his waiting arms. He swung her up and around. "How's my favorite daughter?" She giggled, though Mrs. Tragyl was sure that was caused by the tickle her father gave her, rather than because the child saw the irony of the designation. As their only daughter, Tryna was allowed to be called his favorite. Mr. Tragyl looked to his wife. "I'll meet you outside the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade." She barely had time to nod before he took Tryna's bag from Lulli and Disapperated.
"You can take the night off, Lulli. We probably won't be back until late. Breakfast will only be for myself, Waltr, and Clarence, the rest should be back in time for lunch."
The house elf nodded vigorously. "Lulli understands, Mistress." Then she, too, Disapperated, leaving the parlor empty except for the elf. Fifteen minutes after that, the kitchen had been tidied, and the house was deserted.
She was already waiting when Mr. Tragyl Apparated into Hogsmeade. "My mother said she'd watch Tryna as long as neccessary," he said in response to her expectant expression. "They both appeared happy to see the other. Tryna didn't cry at all." She nodded, thankfully refraining from making any disparaging comments about his mother. He didn't think he would have been able to let it slide in his current mood. They wordlessly began the trek up to Hogwarts.
Halfway there, Keri broke the silence. "What should we do about this?"
Waltr scowled. "He was seriously in error. If I had done something like this, my father would have -" he stopped suddenly. "Nevermind what my father would have done."
Keri winced and smiled symphathetically at him, as though she thought she knew what he meant. She really knew very little about his father beyond the fact that he was now in Azkaban with other followers of Voldemort. The old fool had been far too free, and loud, about his high opinion of the Dark Lord, particularly when drunk. And that had been altogether too often after Voldemort's fall. Add that to being a frequent denizen of Knockturn Alley, and the judges and juries really didn't need any more 'proof'. The irony of the whole thing was that Mr. Tragyl the elder hadn't been a Death Eater.
"Take away his potion set and books for at least a month," Keri suggested into the awkward silence.
Waltr pursed his lips. "It seems wrong to deny the boy knowledge, even if it is the thing he would most miss."
Keri looked at him in surprise. "I didn't realize there was Ravenclaw blood in you."
He smirked. "Knowledge is power," he explained, with a hint of smug superiority to his words. "I assure you, I am one hundred percent Slytherin, my choice of wife notwithstanding." This remark earned him a rather hard punch in the arm. He couldn't say he was surprised, though he did give her a look of mock pain. He rubbed his bicep, playing up the injury so she wouldn't realize that it really had hurt. If she knew, she'd either gloat or apologize, neither of which did he want from her right now. "I was seriously considering a few days in a leg-lock curse. Poetic justice for wandering off."
Keri looked appalled. Typical Gryffindor reaction.
"Seriously, Keri. It's not like I'm suggesting the Crustatious or anything." If anything, she looked even more horrified. He sighed and tried to argue his case. "Leg-lock is harmless, it'll get across the point that we are not happy with him, that what he did was serious, and, best of all, it's cleverly appropriate. What could possibly be a more fitting punishment for running away? And he can still read his precious potions books to pass the time."
"You are one hundred and ten percent Slytherin," Keri said in disgust. "I am not going to put a curse on my son."
Waltr shrugged. "You won't have to. I will. Really, Ker, you're blowing this entirely out of proportion."
She scowled at him. "Would you suggest this if the perpetrator was your darling Tryna?"
Waltr seriously considered the question. He knew he was guilty of playing favorites among the children, and the twins almost never came out ahead. He answered slowly, "I honestly believe Clarence would rather be leg-locked than have his potion books taken away. I think I'm being more lenient on your favorite son than you are." Turnabout was fair play. That accusation about Tryna was hypocritical, even if it was correct. Keri seemed startled by his response. That surprised him, because he felt he was right about this. Both on account of what the boy preferred and which of the children she favored. "What?"
"Do you realize that is the first time in two years you have called him by his proper name?"
He opened his mouth to refute this ridiculous claim, then closed it again. His eventual rebuttal was a very weak, "Really?"
"Really." They walked most of the rest of the way in silence. It wasn't until they were almost to the front gate that she spoke again. "You're right." This affirmation of his correctness confused him, since he had spent the interim trying to come up with a single instance over the last two years that he had spoke of or to Clarence and not called him 'Firetop'. As far as he was concerned, he should be saying that she was right. But, of course, his Slytherin pride rebelled at that. She paused for so long, he thought that was all she was going to say. He feared he might need to fight down his ego and ask what he had been right about, but then she added, each word like a pulled tooth, "He would prefer the leg lock."
Right. That. He tried to surpress his gloating smirk, he really did.
Some of the first year Ravenclaws had come back down to the common room once they checked out their dormitory and seen that all of their belongings were accounted for. They weren't entirely sure they were allowed to be there, so they spoke in whispers, comparing observations about their first day.
The portait door opened, and the four young students looked up with expressions ranging from guilty to curious. Professor Vector entered with Clarence Tragyl. She looked upon them disapprovingly, but merely stated, "You have orientation activities first thing tomorrow. Don't stay up too late." She then released Clarence's hand and nodded toward them. "They'll show you the dormitory when they turn in." The look she turned on the two boys clearly informed them that serious repercussions would occur if they failed in this mission.
One of them stood and stuck out a hand. "Sure, not a problem. I'm Justin Eckerly."
Clarence grinned and shook. "Clarence Tragyl," he said as though they didn't all already know that.
Professor Vector wished them all good night, and left. Justin finished introductions. "That's Derek Rock, Emily Holland, and Gertrude Ivanski."
A girl with blond hair and very pale skin flushed to almost normal coloring. "Please, Gertie. Gertrude is so . . . stuffy."
"How'd the meeting with the Headmaster go?" Emily asked.
Clarence shrugged. "Okay, I guess. They didn't hang me up by my toes, though apparently my parents think I should be."
Thinking it was a joke, Derek and Gertie laughed, and the other two smiled sympathetically. "When are you going home?" Justin picked up the questioning.
The boy shrugged. "When my parents come to fetch me." He seemed to shrink into himself. "They are not going to be happy with me at all. Harris says Father will probably curse me." The way he said it, they knew he didn't mean bad language.
Emily shook her head in horrified denial. "Surely not."
Derek looked at her patronizingly. "It happens." He turned to Clarence, "Is your dad a Slytherin?"
Clarence was starting to look more scared. "Yes," he said in very small voice. Emily's eyes widened, as though having a Slytherin for a father had never occured to her.
"Uh-oh," Gertie said, "And you're in Ravenclaw? He won't be pleased about that either."
"Better Ravenclaw than Hufflepuff or Gryffindor," Derek disagreed. "Slytherins almost like us. If a Slytherin marries outside of her house, it'll be a Ravenclaw ninety-nine times out of a hundred. As far as they're concerned, Hufflepuffs are just useless and Gryffindors are, like, the enemy."
"Mum's a Gryffindor."
The four first years stared at him. Clarence shifted uncomfortably beneath the disbelieving gazes. "A Slytherin married a Gryffindor?" Derek finally asked increduliously.
"A Gryffindor married a Slytherin?" Emily asked in the same tone, obviously finding the other direction more difficult to comprehend. Clarence had the impression she really could imagine anyone, possibly not even another Slytherin, wanting to marry a Slytherin.
"They're not all awful," Clarence said in defence of his father and brother. But he had read enough and was aware enough of recent events, that he knew that many were. He definitely didn't care for most of the Tragyl side of his family, though he wasn't sure if that was because they were really unpleasant people or if it was just because they teased him about his hair and shot his mother Looks.
Emily made a face that suggested he'd need to prove it before she'd believe him.
"Harris is nice, most of the time," he offered as evidence. "I'm going to bet Valr another Chocolate Frog that Jansten will be Slytherin, too. He'll be a first year, next year. And he's very polite, and wants to be an Auror. That's not exactly the goal of a Dark Wizard."
"Sounds like a Gryffindor to me," Gertie argued.
Clarence's eyes lit up. "Bet you a Chocolate Frog you're wrong."
"If his profession of choice is to be a brave and heroic Auror, he's definitely a Gryffindor. You're on."
"That is his ambition," Clarence confirmed, with a smug emphasis on the last word. They shook on it.
Justin shook his head, and stage whispered to Emily, "Gertie just lost herself a frog."
Gertie looked at him with raised brows, "What makes you so sure?"
"Clarence has got to know his brother better than you."
Clarence shrugged. "For the record, most of my other brothers disagree with me. Even Jansten doesn't know or particularly care which house gets him. Harris wanted Slytherin."
Emily wrinkled her nose. "That, I don't understand. I mean, it's not as incomprehensible as your parents' marriage, Clarence, no offense, but why would anybody want to label themselves as a Slytherin?"
Clarence spread his hands. "You'd have to ask Harris. I think he wanted to be like Father. Me, I always wanted Ravenclaw or Gryffindor."
Derek raised a brow. "Disappointed you didn't get Gryffindor?"
Clarence scrunched up his face and shook his head. "Nah. Ravenclaw was my first choice. The only thing Gryffindor had going for it was that it's where my twin's going."
"How d'you know that? It's still six years until his Sorting."
"Unless he completely changes, he can't go anywhere else. No interest in books," he said this like it was major character failing, "No ambition, and work is an anathema for him. He's reckless and fearless, if not brave. Gryffindor's the only one that would even think about taking him." Clarence gave no indication of doubt on the subject.
A brief silence fell over the five young people. Emily broke it, sounding a little worried. "Your dad won't do anything too awful, will he?"
Clarence shrugged, almost indifferently. "He'll be mad, that's for sure. But so will Mum, for that matter. I'm in for something unpleasant. That's what happens when you're bad, regardless of whether your parents are Slytherin or Hufflepuff or Muggle. Can we please talk about something else?"
"Fair enough," piped up Gertie. "Clarence told us his second choice of House, what about you guys. Was Ravenclaw what you all wanted?"
Derek shrugged. "Dad's Ravenclaw. Mum was from Durmstrang, before she went to Azkaban," he fake-smiled in embarassment. "Dad prayed I'd follow him into Ravenclaw."
There was an uncomfortable silence before Emily picked up Gertie's question. "Gryffindor, for both Mum and Dad. The Hat wanted to put me in there, too, but I wanted Ravenclaw, and I'm a quick enough study that it complied."
"Both parents were Ravenclaws," Justin explained shortly. "The expectation was that I'd be, too. Your turn, Gert."
She grinned, a little too cheerfully after Derek's revelation. "My parents are Hufflepuff and muggle. There was no pressure one way or another, though I expect Ma hoped I'd be in her old House. I just wanted to go where I fit best. Hat decided on Ravenclaw."
Emily check her watch. "It's getting late, and as Professor Vector said, we do have orientation tomorrow."
This was met by a round of head nodding. The two girls went up one stairwell on the right side of the common room, and the boys went up its opposite on the left side. "First year dorm is at the top," Justin said as they passed the doorway on the first landing, which was labeled 7th Year Boys. "By the end of the year, we'll all be in tip top shape, that's for sure. Hopefully we rotate down, rather than keeping the same one the whole seven years. I'll have to ask Dad."
When they passed the 5th Year Boys door, Derek asked cautiously, "So your Dad's not in with You-Know-Who, then, Clarence?"
Clarence stopped moving suddenly enough that Justin almost tripped over him. When the boy spoke, he sounded shocked by the very idea. "No!"
They started walking again. After a short, heavy silence, Derek spoke again, "Then he probably won't curse you. Plus your Mum probably won't let him, even if he wanted to. She's Gryffindor." The last sentance came out in an odd mix of disbelief, wonder, and bemusement.
Clarence gave him a strange look. He couldn't imagine his parents not being married, even if they were from enemy houses, and all this fuss about it threatened to upset his view of the world. Keriesa and Waltr Tragyl are supposed to be married. That was a fundemental of the universe, like gravity and magic. Why did it strike everybody as so impossible? Nobody had so much as blinked about a Ravenclaw marrying someone from Durmstrang. Of course, he had to admit, everyone had been too busy gaping about Derek's mom being in Azkaban to have paid much attention to the first part, but still.
Gertie was Hufflepuff-Muggle, and nobody thought that odd. Slytherin-Muggle would have been a different story, he supposed, but he doubted whether it would have garnered much more reaction than his parents' Slytherin-Gryffindor. He didn't dare confront the Ravenclaws' surprise, fearing that somehow doing so could lead to his parents breaking up. They already argued a lot. Did that mean the marriage was fragile and could fly apart any day now? The thought terrified him. All the times he and his brothers had tried to play one against the other suddenly filled him with guilt. For petty reasons he couldn't even remember, they had intentionally made an already impossible marriage harder.
They finally reached the top floor. Derek and Justin each took a bed without hesitation. A quick look found an unoccupied one. Clarence climbed into it, still wearing the muggle clothes his mother had insisted he wear to the train station. Not wanting to wake the boys already sleeping, good-nights were passed around quickly and in whispers.
Clarence stared at the ceiling and shook off his dread and uncertainty. No. His parents were happy. Er, most of the time, anyway. But that's the way it had always been. You can't expect a Slytherin-Gryffindor marriage to be blissful all the time. Even he knew that. It had lasted almost thirteen years now. That was something.
If the marriage was bad it would spill into family life. But, overall, the family wasn't dysfunctional. Fights were expected in a household with seven brothers, and no genuine feuds or hatreds had developed. Nobody was showing signs of being a dark wizard wannabe. No one was perpetually depressed or angry. Sure, Valr was a skilled liar and Menteron a habitual prankster. Yes, Jansten was almost frightening in his intensity to become the best Auror in history, but what family didn't have its weirdos?
That Grandpa Tragyl had got himself convicted of being a Death Eater was their closest claim to notoriety. And that couldn't possibly be connected to his parents marriage. Besides, Father said he wasn't even guilty.
So, Clarence concluded, his parents marriage was still a firm corner stone to the world. If his logic was a little shaky, it could be blamed it on the late hour, an exhausting day, and the fact that he wanted to believe it with every fiber of his being. He soon fell into a sound sleep, having never considered what would happen to his family when his brothers were Sorted into enemy houses and battle lines drawn.
"Keri and Waltr!" Dumbledore greeted his two visitors warmly as they entered his office. "Clarence fell asleep not long ago. Amazing child, that one." Keri smiled proudly in spite of herself. No matter how determined she was to be mad at him, Dubledore (Headmaster of Hogwarts, Order of Merlin 1st class) telling her that her son was amazing simply could not be shrugged off as unimportant. "Unless you are in a tearing hurry to leave, you are more than welcome to a room in the guest wing."
A short discussion later, mostly in non-verbal, husband and wife nodded. "Thank you, Headmaster," Keri agreed. "But we must leave early. I need to go in to work, and we told Lulli, our House Elf, to expect us for breakfast."
Dumbledore nodded his understanding, then brought up the subject that had brought them there. "I advise you both to oversee Clarence carefully over the next six years until he attends Hogwarts. The child mantained a strong magical illusion to avoid discovery throughout the entire time he was on the train. I don't believe he realizes he did any such thing which, perhaps, makes it an even more extraordinary achievement."
The Tragyls exchanged looks of surprise. "I thought the conflaguration he made of my grandmother's couch was astonishing," Waltr commented, nearly achieving the unimpressed tone he was attempting.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I do not doubt that it was." The twinkle faded as he turned more serious, "Clarence's accidental magic is unusually powerful. Do try to keep him out of situations where he may become especially frightened or angry."
Keri nodded. "He is generally an even-tempered boy, but I will tell him to be careful."
Shortly thereafter, the two were escorted by Dumbledore himself into the guest wing. Before leaving them, he said, "I will have Professor Vector, Ravenclaw's Head of House, bring Clarence to you early tomorrow morning."
True to his word, the next morning Clarence arrived in the company of a middle aged woman at six-thirty. The boy looked like his had sleep-walked his way from Ravenclaw Tower to his parents guest room, but was otherwise fine. By seven, they had walked beyond Hogwart's Apperation barrier, and returned to the Tragyl residence.
More awake now, he looked at his parents frowning visages from the familiar setting of his home's parlor. "Your father and I have discussed your punishment and came up with two possibilities. I reluctantly have agreed with your father's suggestion. However, if you have an objection to it we will go with the other."
Feeling decidedly apprehensive, he asked. "What did Father suggest?"
Mr. Tragyl looked at his son gravely. "You will be placed under the leg-lock curse for two days. Lulli will bring your meals to your room so you need not navigate the stairs. You may go about whatever activities you wish, though, obviously, your movements will be somewhat . . . restricted."
Clarence looked between them, face pale. "And Mum's suggestion?"
"One month suspension from your potion set and books."
Clarence looked at his mother in betrayal. "That's worse!"
He thought he saw his father send her an I-told-you-so look, but that might have been his imagination. "I take it you choose the first option," Mr. Tragyl asked dryly. Clarence swallowed hard and nodded. "All right. Upstairs, first. I'm not carrying you." His father followed him to his room. His mother stayed downstairs, unwilling to witness this. Mr. Tragyl looked at him, raised his wand, then stopped. "Perhaps you should change into something more comfortable, first."
Clarence looked down at the rumpled Muggle clothing, and nodded. His father turned around while he changed into his favorite green robe. He climbed onto his bed, made sure his potion books were within easy reach, and mustered his courage. "I'm ready."
His father turned back around and nodded. "Locomotor Mortis!" He gave his son a half smile that held mostly assurance, but also a trace of humour. "Well, you won't be wandering off to Hogwarts again during the next two days now."
That was a joke. His father was joking with him. He giggled, more from the sheer unexpectedness of it than because it was funny.
"Congratulations on Ravenclaw, Clarence," Mr. Tragyl added, before returning downstairs. Clarence stared after him, astonishment holding him in place as much as the curse. It wasn't until Lulli entered with a plate of toast and cup of pumpkin juice a few minutes later that he broke his stunned stillness. Eventually, he decided that the punishment must have made his father feel guilty enough to go temporarily insane, and that was why he had acted so nice before leaving. The only other posibility was that someone had used polyjuice potion and was doing a very poor job of impersonating him.
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