A/N: here you go, the next chapter. Sorry it wasn't out sooner - I meant
it to be - but I didn't realize how much homework I had. What is it about
holidays that makes teachers think 'coursework', 'tests', 'revision',
'exams', 'long impossible exercises'? I guess that you can work out what
my holiday was like. Now, I'm going to borrow an idea from my beta,
kestral-girl, and recommend a story, something I'll do every chapter (if I
remember). In return, I want your recommendations when you review. This
time's story: 'SOLSTICE'. You can find it easily on my favourite stories
list.
They had now arrived outside another grand door, which Severus pushed open - either the door was charmed or very well engineered because, despite its size, it moved easily and without a sound. Marc followed him in to see a small, homey dining room containing a single, circular table where the rest of the family was (yes, I know that this grammar is slightly odd, but it is correct...blame Shakespeare) already sitting. Marc grinned: the rest of the family, he'd never been able to think that before: the Dursleys certainly didn't count as family in his books with the way they'd treated him...plus there was that they weren't actually related to him...
"This is only the family dining room," his father said, looking slightly embarrassed. Was Marc meant to be surprised? The grand door had certainly suggested a significantly larger room . . . "We have a much larger formal one for entertaining guests, social functions and suchlike, not that there have been many of those in the last few years."
"That hideous room," Altair sniffed dismissively. "It's gloomy, uncomfortable and far too large for our purposes - hardly suitable for a family meal. Sit down, both of you, before your food gets cold."
Marc slid into one of the empty seats and stared at the plate in front of him: crispy-skinned chicken, golden potatoes, a mound of peas, rashers of bacon . . .
"Is this all for me?" he checked, just to make sure that it wasn't a plate that he was supposed to serve himself from. Severus frowned,
"Of course, you can have more if you want, naturally, but you should clear your plate first."
He needed no further urging. After over two weeks of living on a single slice of toast a day, this was a feast for the teen. The two adults looked at each other, slightly taken aback by his comment, but the house elf that came bustling in was overjoyed at the rate at which he was devouring his meal.
"You likes it, young master?" he queried eagerly. "You wants more? Mufy can easily get . . ."
"Uh, no, thank you, I'm full."
"You are Master Severus' son, yes? Tiddy is telling me about you. I'm Mufy, young master, at your service," the house elf told him, bowing deeply.
"Pleased to meet you," Marc said awkwardly. "I'm Ha- Marcus."
"That is good, Master Marcus. Mufy will remember. Is there anythings Mufy can be getting you? More chicken? Peas? Carrots?"
Marc hid a grin; this elf was nothing if not persistent.
"No thank you Mufy, I'm fine. It was delicious, though."
"Thank you Master Marcus. Mufy is glad you is liking his humble cooking."
"Come on Mufy," Severus said, smiling, a thing that would have left hoards of Hogwarts students fainting, had they witnessed this event. Marc wasn't affected quite so drastically; there had been so many changes to his previous view of the man that he wasn't entirely sure what to expect now. "You're a genius with food, we all know it."
"Master is kind," Mufy said, politely but firmly," but Mufy is not very good. Mufy is working very hard to learn, though. Master Marcus has a healthy appetite, but Master Peregrine! You have left your chicken! It is waste! Waste! Mufy is bad bad cook! Bad Mufy! Bad Mufy!"
Mufy began to bang his head hard against the cooker. Galahad, who was nearest, grabbed the back of his pillowcase with a practiced hand and held him back, whilst Altair looked meaningfully at Perry.
"I haven't left it Mufy, I just it slowly. See, I'm eating it now."
"Mufy is not a bad cook?"
"No, you're great," Merlyn assured him hastily, looking at her own clean plate. "Do you have any dessert?"
"Of course Master Merlyn," the house elf replied, bouncing up again happily. "Mufy is just fetching it now!"
He bustled out, Perry completely forgotten in this new excitement, and Merlyn smirked.
"That," she said smugly, "is how to deal with Mufy. Watch and learn people, genius at work."
"You weren't so clever when he threw your scrambled eggs in your face this morning 'cos you cheeked him!" Perry said indignantly, flushing in a decidedly un-Severus like manner. Merlyn glared at him. "Anyway, I don't need you to solve all my problems for me, I'm fine on my own!"
"That's lucky," Altair said sharply. "Because if I hear even another hint of a squabble starting, I'll be sending you both straight to bed."
"Sorry Mum," Perry said, glancing anxiously sideways at their father, normally the harsher disciplinarian, who was looking stern. "I didn't mean to bring it up, but . . ."
"I'm going to request that the both of you take a long walk this afternoon and sort it out," Severus said firmly. The look on his face mad it clear that this was not optional. "I shall put the cuffs on you as a little encouragement. You've been told many times before not to bicker at the table. Galahad may remain here and this afternoon, we are going to discuss Marcus' lessons for the summer."
"But sir," Marc protested, horrified at the very thought. "It's the summer holidays, and I've done all of my assignments. Well, all except the Potions one . . ."
"Why am I not surprised that it appears to be the one subject you've opted to neglect?"
"Because you set us the longest and most difficult essays you can dream up, something that you are all too accomplished at for the common good."
"You will naturally be doing some Potions coaching - I can't have you embarrassing me - but you will need to learn a lot about pureblood society before you return to school, especially since you will no doubt be under close scrutiny from other young purebloods like Draco Malfoy."
Marc sighed, watching as the other three children devoured large slices of chocolate cake, the twins still scowling. It looked delicious, but already felt that he'd eaten too much. Just when he thought he was going to have a good summer, he was landed with this.
Perry and Merlyn, finished now, stood up and came around the table to where Severus was sitting.
"Can we go now?" Perry asked.
"We might as well get it over with."
Severus looked at them, then pulled out his wand and held it over their outstretched arms. A shimmering cord appeared, binding their hands tightly together. The twins looked at each, grimaced and went out.
"Please may I be excused too, Daddy?" Galahad asked quickly.
"What's the hurry?"
Galahad's eyes flicked nervously sideways towards his mother before returning to fix his father with a look that screamed 'duh'.
"Ah, you haven't finished one of your assignments," Severus deduced easily. "What's it on?"
"Ways of stopping your opponent casting spells in a duel."
"Interesting subject, they should set that at Hogwarts sometime - you'd get some very interesting responses, I should imagine. You can go Galahad. Would you like Marcus to come up in a while and give you a hand? I seem to remember that he's an excellent dueler."
"Okay," Galahad said, sounding rather apprehensive as he slipped out of the door.
Mufy reappeared, waved his hands and all the cutlery and plates vanished, presumably transported back to the kitchen, wherever that was. Marc was a bit hurt at how reluctant Galahad seemed to be about being alone with him.
"Don't worry," Altair said reassuringly, looking at his face. "He's just shy. We'll throw you together quite a lot over the next few weeks and he'll be used to you in no time. He can be a little devil when he knows you. Now, what do we need to cover with you? Make a list for me, will you Sev?"
"Potions," the man said firmly. "Though that'll come easy once I acknowledge you and you receive the Snape gift."
"Genealogies," Altair dictated. "Formal etiquette and social status. The dress code. Pureblood council."
"What do I need all that for?"
"You're a pureblood and as soon as you turn seventeen you will be confirmed as Master of one of the High Families - the Potters," Severus explained, looking to Altair for her next idea.
"The Animagus transformation," she said promptly and Marc grinned. He'd always wanted to become an Animagus ever since he found out about the Marauders.
"Wandless magic - you should be able to do that because of your mother's heritage. You're Albus' heir, so I'll have to ask him to teach you."
"Latin."
"Latin? Why? I know enough for my spells, don't I?"
"Latin is the formal language," Altair said patiently. "No one speaks it much, but you need to be able to say and understand the formal phrases. Probably French and German as well; we have very strong wizarding links with those countries. Don't worry about that too much, we'll give you a QuikLearn charm to help you along."
"I believe that's all for now, don't you?"
"I should think so. Why don't you go and make a Gringotts appointment, Sev? And Marc, do you mind helping Galahad? He finds it hard to sit down and work with no supervision."
"No, of course, I'd be happy to," Marc stammered. The delighted smile she gave him more than compensated for missing anything he might have thought to do instead.
"Thanks. Tiddy!"
"Yes Mistress Altair?" the house elf squeaked, appearing from nowhere with a crack.
"Would you show Marc up to the schoolroom please."
"Of course. Come along, young master. Where are Master Perry and Miss Merlyn, were theys bad again?"
"You know what they're like. Sev put cuffs on them, so they'll be fine by the time they get back."
"That is good, Mistress. When young Miss Merlyn is angry, she's is scaring Tiddy sometimes."
They had now arrived outside another grand door, which Severus pushed open - either the door was charmed or very well engineered because, despite its size, it moved easily and without a sound. Marc followed him in to see a small, homey dining room containing a single, circular table where the rest of the family was (yes, I know that this grammar is slightly odd, but it is correct...blame Shakespeare) already sitting. Marc grinned: the rest of the family, he'd never been able to think that before: the Dursleys certainly didn't count as family in his books with the way they'd treated him...plus there was that they weren't actually related to him...
"This is only the family dining room," his father said, looking slightly embarrassed. Was Marc meant to be surprised? The grand door had certainly suggested a significantly larger room . . . "We have a much larger formal one for entertaining guests, social functions and suchlike, not that there have been many of those in the last few years."
"That hideous room," Altair sniffed dismissively. "It's gloomy, uncomfortable and far too large for our purposes - hardly suitable for a family meal. Sit down, both of you, before your food gets cold."
Marc slid into one of the empty seats and stared at the plate in front of him: crispy-skinned chicken, golden potatoes, a mound of peas, rashers of bacon . . .
"Is this all for me?" he checked, just to make sure that it wasn't a plate that he was supposed to serve himself from. Severus frowned,
"Of course, you can have more if you want, naturally, but you should clear your plate first."
He needed no further urging. After over two weeks of living on a single slice of toast a day, this was a feast for the teen. The two adults looked at each other, slightly taken aback by his comment, but the house elf that came bustling in was overjoyed at the rate at which he was devouring his meal.
"You likes it, young master?" he queried eagerly. "You wants more? Mufy can easily get . . ."
"Uh, no, thank you, I'm full."
"You are Master Severus' son, yes? Tiddy is telling me about you. I'm Mufy, young master, at your service," the house elf told him, bowing deeply.
"Pleased to meet you," Marc said awkwardly. "I'm Ha- Marcus."
"That is good, Master Marcus. Mufy will remember. Is there anythings Mufy can be getting you? More chicken? Peas? Carrots?"
Marc hid a grin; this elf was nothing if not persistent.
"No thank you Mufy, I'm fine. It was delicious, though."
"Thank you Master Marcus. Mufy is glad you is liking his humble cooking."
"Come on Mufy," Severus said, smiling, a thing that would have left hoards of Hogwarts students fainting, had they witnessed this event. Marc wasn't affected quite so drastically; there had been so many changes to his previous view of the man that he wasn't entirely sure what to expect now. "You're a genius with food, we all know it."
"Master is kind," Mufy said, politely but firmly," but Mufy is not very good. Mufy is working very hard to learn, though. Master Marcus has a healthy appetite, but Master Peregrine! You have left your chicken! It is waste! Waste! Mufy is bad bad cook! Bad Mufy! Bad Mufy!"
Mufy began to bang his head hard against the cooker. Galahad, who was nearest, grabbed the back of his pillowcase with a practiced hand and held him back, whilst Altair looked meaningfully at Perry.
"I haven't left it Mufy, I just it slowly. See, I'm eating it now."
"Mufy is not a bad cook?"
"No, you're great," Merlyn assured him hastily, looking at her own clean plate. "Do you have any dessert?"
"Of course Master Merlyn," the house elf replied, bouncing up again happily. "Mufy is just fetching it now!"
He bustled out, Perry completely forgotten in this new excitement, and Merlyn smirked.
"That," she said smugly, "is how to deal with Mufy. Watch and learn people, genius at work."
"You weren't so clever when he threw your scrambled eggs in your face this morning 'cos you cheeked him!" Perry said indignantly, flushing in a decidedly un-Severus like manner. Merlyn glared at him. "Anyway, I don't need you to solve all my problems for me, I'm fine on my own!"
"That's lucky," Altair said sharply. "Because if I hear even another hint of a squabble starting, I'll be sending you both straight to bed."
"Sorry Mum," Perry said, glancing anxiously sideways at their father, normally the harsher disciplinarian, who was looking stern. "I didn't mean to bring it up, but . . ."
"I'm going to request that the both of you take a long walk this afternoon and sort it out," Severus said firmly. The look on his face mad it clear that this was not optional. "I shall put the cuffs on you as a little encouragement. You've been told many times before not to bicker at the table. Galahad may remain here and this afternoon, we are going to discuss Marcus' lessons for the summer."
"But sir," Marc protested, horrified at the very thought. "It's the summer holidays, and I've done all of my assignments. Well, all except the Potions one . . ."
"Why am I not surprised that it appears to be the one subject you've opted to neglect?"
"Because you set us the longest and most difficult essays you can dream up, something that you are all too accomplished at for the common good."
"You will naturally be doing some Potions coaching - I can't have you embarrassing me - but you will need to learn a lot about pureblood society before you return to school, especially since you will no doubt be under close scrutiny from other young purebloods like Draco Malfoy."
Marc sighed, watching as the other three children devoured large slices of chocolate cake, the twins still scowling. It looked delicious, but already felt that he'd eaten too much. Just when he thought he was going to have a good summer, he was landed with this.
Perry and Merlyn, finished now, stood up and came around the table to where Severus was sitting.
"Can we go now?" Perry asked.
"We might as well get it over with."
Severus looked at them, then pulled out his wand and held it over their outstretched arms. A shimmering cord appeared, binding their hands tightly together. The twins looked at each, grimaced and went out.
"Please may I be excused too, Daddy?" Galahad asked quickly.
"What's the hurry?"
Galahad's eyes flicked nervously sideways towards his mother before returning to fix his father with a look that screamed 'duh'.
"Ah, you haven't finished one of your assignments," Severus deduced easily. "What's it on?"
"Ways of stopping your opponent casting spells in a duel."
"Interesting subject, they should set that at Hogwarts sometime - you'd get some very interesting responses, I should imagine. You can go Galahad. Would you like Marcus to come up in a while and give you a hand? I seem to remember that he's an excellent dueler."
"Okay," Galahad said, sounding rather apprehensive as he slipped out of the door.
Mufy reappeared, waved his hands and all the cutlery and plates vanished, presumably transported back to the kitchen, wherever that was. Marc was a bit hurt at how reluctant Galahad seemed to be about being alone with him.
"Don't worry," Altair said reassuringly, looking at his face. "He's just shy. We'll throw you together quite a lot over the next few weeks and he'll be used to you in no time. He can be a little devil when he knows you. Now, what do we need to cover with you? Make a list for me, will you Sev?"
"Potions," the man said firmly. "Though that'll come easy once I acknowledge you and you receive the Snape gift."
"Genealogies," Altair dictated. "Formal etiquette and social status. The dress code. Pureblood council."
"What do I need all that for?"
"You're a pureblood and as soon as you turn seventeen you will be confirmed as Master of one of the High Families - the Potters," Severus explained, looking to Altair for her next idea.
"The Animagus transformation," she said promptly and Marc grinned. He'd always wanted to become an Animagus ever since he found out about the Marauders.
"Wandless magic - you should be able to do that because of your mother's heritage. You're Albus' heir, so I'll have to ask him to teach you."
"Latin."
"Latin? Why? I know enough for my spells, don't I?"
"Latin is the formal language," Altair said patiently. "No one speaks it much, but you need to be able to say and understand the formal phrases. Probably French and German as well; we have very strong wizarding links with those countries. Don't worry about that too much, we'll give you a QuikLearn charm to help you along."
"I believe that's all for now, don't you?"
"I should think so. Why don't you go and make a Gringotts appointment, Sev? And Marc, do you mind helping Galahad? He finds it hard to sit down and work with no supervision."
"No, of course, I'd be happy to," Marc stammered. The delighted smile she gave him more than compensated for missing anything he might have thought to do instead.
"Thanks. Tiddy!"
"Yes Mistress Altair?" the house elf squeaked, appearing from nowhere with a crack.
"Would you show Marc up to the schoolroom please."
"Of course. Come along, young master. Where are Master Perry and Miss Merlyn, were theys bad again?"
"You know what they're like. Sev put cuffs on them, so they'll be fine by the time they get back."
"That is good, Mistress. When young Miss Merlyn is angry, she's is scaring Tiddy sometimes."