(Previously, on 'Of Mugwumps and Toadstools:)
Lightning split through the woods, followed by an instant clap of thunder.
Hestia stared. Evan's hold on her hand tightened.
A man stepped out of the darkness before them...
Chapter Seven: "Brewing Storms In Cauldrons"
His hood was pulled low over his eyes, and his face set back in the shadows. A dark cloak fell to the ground, and Hestia noticed an oddly shaped patch on the bottom. She felt as if she should know the owner of it, but for the life of her, she could not recognize this man.
Evan's grip on her hand tightened even further as he shied behind Hestia. She squeezed Evan's hand reassuringly before turning to face the man.
"Who are you?" she demanded, trying desperately hard to hide her fear.
I know Evan's scared…he gets scared a lot…but it's never something simple or stupid. He only gets scared for a reason. Storms don't frighten him, spiders or snakes don't frighten him, Old William doesn't frighten him…
It took a while for the man to answer. Thunder rumbled high above, lightning split the darkness, and the wind hitched up another notch.
"Don't you know me, Hestia?" he asked finally, in a somewhat hoarse voice.
Hestia started. He'd used her name…that meant he knew her, which also meant that she probably knew him…
His voice sounds familiar…I know it from somewhere…where have I heard it before?
"No," she answered uncertainly. Her hair blew about in the wind. She swept it out of her eyes with a hand. What if he tries something? I won't be able to see it until it's too late.
A protectiveness of Evander swept over her, far more powerful than any she had ever felt. There was no way she was going to let him come near her nephew…no matter who he was, or who he said he was. Suddenly she felt stronger. "No, I don't know who you are. Why don't you enlighten me, sir?"
Her mind was going a million miles an hour. The one time Evan was terribly frightened of something, other than his dreams, was when we were walking in Diagon Alley and met a woman outside of the Apothecary. He screamed andthrew a fitwhen she tried to sell Toby a pound of powered griffin claws. We knew something was wrong with him. He never acts like that. Then later, we found out the woman was a convicted kidnapper under a glamour charm – if Tobias had taken the claws, she would have been able to find him wherever he went...
The man shifted slightly on his feet, as if nervous, but his voice gave no sense of that. "Innocent men being molested in the woods. What is this country coming to?" He smirked. "Though I am curious as to what a friend of mine is doing in those wretched clothes, dressed as an ordinary Muggle."
His gaze swept over her body, and Hestia could just feel those eyes examining every inch of her. It felt wrong. She couldn't keep herself from shivering. "Muggle society surrounds us," she replied coldly. "If you wish to be obvious, feel free, but Evander and I are perfectly comfortable as we are."
The man stepped a bit closer to them, his cloak rustling against the heel of his boots, and looked down at Evan, who was still hiding behind Hestia, big blue eyes regarding the man with obvious distrust. "Evander, you say?" He stooped a bit so he could look more closely at Evan.
Chills running up and down her spine, Hestia slid her hand into the pocket that held her wand. She had wanted to before, but the man had been watching her so closely that she hadn't dared.
Evander looked back at the man unflinchingly. His pale face stood out in the dusky storm-light underneath his shock of golden hair. He took a tentative step out from behind Hestia, and the man reached out to stroke his cheek, but Hestia pulled Evander behind her again.
"Don't touch him! I asked you a question and I expect an answer," she said forcefully. "Who are you?"
My wand!I don't have my wand! It's not here! Hestia's eyes grew wide with fear. Without her wand...how could she prtoect Evan and herself without her wand?
The man chuckled and lowered his hood. "Will this answer you, fair lady?" he said jocularly.
Uncontrolled fireworks still zoomed feverishly all over the sky outside, a storm raged with thunder roaring and lightning striking every few minutes, yet things felt strangely satisfying.
For Tobias, in any case.
He and Alexandra crouched on the top of the first flight of stairs, looking down through the bars at their mother and Uncle Balfour. The adults stood six feet from each other in the front room, shouting so loudly that the twins could have been in the topmost attic, never mind the stairs, and still have been able to hear every word perfectly.
"----Of course it's all your fault, who else do you thinkis TO blame here? And don't you dare try to tell me that it wasn't anybody's fault, because I highly doubt that!----"
"----Irene, I would never even think of saying that it wasn't my fault for one bloody minute! If you would let me get a word in edgewise----"
On the couch next to one of the Mansion's many fireplaces, the twins' smaller sister was huddled in a blanket, telling Marmie in full detail all about her adventure. The story held them both entranced, despite the screaming match occurring right beside them, and it seemed Marmie was so wrapped up on the insides of a Snapping Dragonwort that she had forgotten all about dinner.
Though, unless Alexandra was mistaken, the kitchen utensils were going about fixing it without their 'mistress' just fine.
Irene stopped shouting long enough to take a breath. Another loud voice echoed down the hall, shouting about fireworks and trees.
"And that would be Biddy!" Tobias muttered.
His sister sat back. "Poor guy. You should really take the blame, you know. After all, it was your fireworks he was setting off, on your orders!"
"I didn't make him do it! He volunteered! Why should I get in trouble?"
"Because it was your idea!" she shot back. "You'd better tell her! That it was yours and not Dingy's!"
"And what if I don't?" Tobias rolled his eyes at her.
"Hmmm," said Alexandra sarcastically. "Now what can I use to blackmail Tobias with? What a hard question! Perhaps that instance with our blown-up toilet would do!"
Tobias sat straight up. "Don't you dare!"
His sister just smirked at him.
"But it was an accident! I didn't mean to blow it up!"
"It wasn't an accident when you started messing with Dad's medicine potions!" Alexandra retorted. "Mum already knows that you know that pretensus is flammable! She's not gonna believe you didn't chuck it in there on purpose."
Tobias scowled and made a face at her. "Fine! I'll tell Biddy! Are you happy, now, evil one?"
She grinned up at him. "Maliciously!"
Hestia stared at him, her eyes widening.
It can't be possible! He can't be here! It's not him, it's not him, it's NOT!
Lightning flickered on and off again, illuminating the man's features.
For one moment, her voice was lost in the raging contents of the storm. Then she found it.
"John?"
Toby started down the stairs, causing a momentary lull in the screaming as Irene and Balfour suddenly realized that they weren't the only ones in the room. Alexandra hesitated, then followed her brother down the stairs just as he disappeared down the hall.
She scooted around the enraged pair of adults, who were going at it again.
"I tried to get her out the best I could, Irene! Why can't you understand that?"
"Oh, I understand. I understand that your best wasn't good enough!" Mother snapped.
"Well, what would you have LIKED me to do? Believe me when I say that nobody feels worse about it than I do!" Balfour yelled.
"WELL, IF IT WEREN'T FOR YOUR BLOODY DOG----"
"DON'T GO ON ABOUT VIRGILIA, IRENE! SHE BLOODY WELL EFFING SAVED YOUR DAUGHTER!----"
Normally, Alexandra thought as she hurried down the hallway, her mother only yelled at her, Alexa, or atToby, when one of them did something to set her off.
Nice not to be the one getting shouted at for a change.
She crept down the corridor opposite the one Toby was using, which led to the kitchens. Many of the portraits she walked past had their hands clapped over their ears. One of them in particular stopped her as she walked by. "What is that woman harping on about, pray tell?"
Alexandra turned to see a likable old man with a walrus mustache and spectacles peering out at her. "Oh, Mum's just mad at Uncle Balfour for letting my sister get eaten up by a plant."
"Gracious!" the old man exclaimed. The other portraits around them gasped, whispering amongst themselves. Some migrated through each other's frames to get to the end of the hall, away from the racket. Alexandra didn't blame them.
She had only taken a few more steps when she was interrupted yet again. "Little girl! Little girl!"
Alexandra looked around to see who was calling her. To her left, away from the other portraits, a single painting resided with an old hag and her harp as its lone occupant. It was the same one that had caught Alexandra's interest earlier on…the one next to the Ravenclaw tapestry.
"I-I-I beg your pardon, but...did you say something?" Alexandra asked the hag, moving closer. Everyone else in the other portraits had already fled. Other than themselves, the hall was deserted.
"Yes, I did, little girl!" the hag sniffed, apparently not liking to repeat herself. "I asked if you were, by any chance, related to Hadwin and Glynnis Hesperus?"
Alexandra blinked. "Er…yeah, I am. They were my grandparents…on my mother's side."
The hag chuckled, obviously pleased. She fingered a few chords on her large harp, which looked strangely familiar to Alexandra. "I thought as much. You look most like your father, but you do have some Hesperus traits in you. Your hair, for instance…you've inherited it from your mother, who in turn received it from her mother. Glynnis Jones was most notable for her wilder curls. And your neck----"
Alexandra's hands flew up to her slender neck.
"----Looks like you've got Elspeth's gifts in that area." The hag finished.
"Who's Elspeth?" Alexa asked, her nine-year-old curiosity kicking in.
The old hag thought for a moment. "She would be your…great-great-aunt. Haverington's and Halstead's sister…pity, though…"
"Why?"
"She died very young, you know. Straight off a Hogwarts graduate. Died the very night she came home. Tragic it was…I was downstairs having dinner with the rest. I'm her aunt."
"How do you know all this stuff?" Alexandra asked, amazed. "How old are you?"
"What is the year, young one?"
"Er…1991…July seventh…A.D.," she added, just in case.
The hag chuckled. "I'm not that old, child! Let's see, that would make me…one hundred and twenty on this very day."
Alexandra grinned. "Many happy returns, then!"
"Pleased to meet you!" John said wryly.
Hestia was thoroughly confused. "But---but I thought you were in the Caribbean! Did…did they let you off early?"
"No, I decided to ditch them and join the National Birdwatcher's Guild!" John retorted nastily.
Hestia must have looked quite shocked and taken aback, for he hastily said in a kinder tone, "Yes, we were done sooner than expected, Hestia. Sorry if I sound a bit snappish. I was recently in hospital and I fear the drugs have given me rather ugly side-effects."
Hestia just stared at him. Something seemed wrong…she just couldn't place it. It certainly looked like John, in any case. His same dark brown hair, those same green eyes, the light sprinkle of freckles across his cheeks…
That was another thing that concerned Hestia: there were three long, disagreeable-looking scars, running four inches diagonal across his left cheek.
"What in heaven's name has happened to your face?"
John just shrugged it off. "Oh, that's nothing…just ran into a bloody dragon with too many spikes on his tail, is all. It…it's been checked at St. Mungo's, don't worry!" he added hastily. "Now, were you serious about me not touching my own son?"
Unconsciously, Hestia released her tight hold on her nephew. She looked to see his face still covered in a five-year-old's fear.
Bending down, she whispered in his ear, "Look Evan! Daddy's back! Do you want to go say hullo? Tell him how much you've missed him!"
Evan looked at her, his mouth forming an 'O'. She pushed him gently forward, nodding him on.
Evan stood between his aunt and his father, looking up at the latter hesitantly. He was twisting his small hands in front of them, something Hestia noticed was becoming a habit of his when he was worried and undecided. He seemed to stand there forever, just looking up and scrutinizing his father as the storm raged on above the sheltering trees.
Finally, Evan made up his mind. He took one step forward and John swept him up into his arms, with what sounded like a faint cry of triumph.
"Here's my little Evander! Strapping young man, he is! All grown up, too…how much have you shot up since I saw you last, Evander?" John asked, beaming at the son in his arms.
Evan didn't answer. He just looked at John's face, which was now much closer than it was before.
Hestia stepped up, "Erm…he's grown an inch since last winter already, Irene says. So…how was your trip back? Comfortable I hope…I mean, despite the obvious…"
John shifted uncomfortably. "Fine…just fine…but how is Irene?"
"If you would like to come home with me, we can go find out. I really should be getting Evan back…Irene will worry," Hestia said nonchalantly.
"Er…yes, I think I will…thanks," John said, politely.
The conversation was becoming a bit too forced, Hestia noticed. It left her feeling oddly…depressed. She and John used to get on so well together, despite the faintly lingering resentment Hestia had had lately against him for being gone all the time and hurting Irene. But she thought she was doing much better than she had been, and now…this.
She forced a smile and started to lead the way back to the Mansion, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder to see if he was following.
John was staring after her, an oddly unpleasant look on his face.
"Are you coming? We really need to hurry…it'll be raining hard any minute!" Hestia called back to him.
Starting from his small reverie, John started walking after her.
"I'm right behind you…Hestia."
The old hag with the harp was rambling…Alexandra knew that much.
She was going on and on about the children's great-great-aunt, great-great-uncle, great-great-grandfather…at first, Alexandra had been intrigued, but now her attention was seriously waning…
"…They were quite close, you know…though the sibling rivalry, of course, was always an issue, but ---- and I am saying this quite from experience, now ---- sometimes brothers and sisters are brought together much more efficiently after a crisis occurs."
Don't think Toby and I will ever have that problem, Alexandra though, stifling a yawn.
"Why, just look at your mother and aunt! Those two weren't always that close, you know…in fact…" the hag leaned in closer, gesturing Alexandra to do the same, "I've heard that it wasn't until your grandparents' tragic death that they started their actual bonding! I, for one, think that if their parents hadn't been so brutally murdered----"
"Wait!" Alexandra jerked her head up. "What? What do you mean 'brutally murdered'? I…I don't understand!"
The hag looked taken aback. "Oh, dear…slip of the tongue, I daresay. But…hasn't anyone ever told you before? How your grandparents really died?"
"Well…yes…" Alexandra said slowly. "I asked my mother about it just this afternoon, you see. She said that her Mum and Dad were killed in the last war and the people who did it were never sent to…to the wizard prison…Whatsitsname."
"Azkaban. And your mother is right. She and her brother were away at Hogwarts when it happened, you know…she was fifteen and he had just turned seventeen, if I recall correctly. Their parents were murdered right in their very home, you know…has anyone ever told you that?"
The hag seemed so very pleased to be able to tell all she knew to someone…anyone…that it hardly registered to her that a nine-year-old girl wasn't the best candidate. Alexandra was starting to feel very faint.
…Mum's parents…my grandparents…how could anyone do something like that? It's…it's horrible…but…she said that they had been in their own home…she said they were murdered in their very home...and Mum and Uncle Jason were at school…they didn't know…
Then a horrible thought struck her.
"W-w-wait! You said…you said that they were in their own house, right? And Mum and her brother were at school? So…where was Aunt Hestia…when they were…were…killed? She was…she wasn't at their house…right?"
Evan couldn't tear his eyes away from his…father's…face.
He was settled in his father's arms. That was his favorite place to be…usually.
He squirmed uncomfortably. John just tightened his grip and hoisted him up further as they set off after Aunt Hestia.
The rain started to come down at last. John's boots squelched on the soft ground, but Evander kept his eyes on his father's cheek, on the strange and scary scars. Then he shifted his gaze to his father's eyes. They were green, just like they should be…but they didn't seem the same to Evander.
His father's eyes, Evan knew from gazing into John's face all his life from his favorite perch, were green like the sea. They were soft and round and Evander always loved to look at them. But now, they were…harder, and less sea-like. In fact, they reminded Evan of a snake Toby once caught in their yard…all shimmery and bright, and…snake-like.
Suddenly, those green eyes looked down at him. Startled, Evan looked down to the scars again.
When John looked back at Aunt Hestia, who was now only right in front of them, Evan made up his mind.
He reached his small fingers up to his father's face to touch those frightening scars.
Lightning split through the hall followed by the loudest crack of thunder yet. Alexandra jumped and uttered a small shriek of surprise.
The hag just chuckled.
Now that the lightning was gone, the hall seemed much darker than before.
"It is dark, isn't it?" the hag said softly, as if reading her thoughts. "He can do that to you…the dark one who goes about brewing storms in cauldrons…he frightens many. Now aboutyour auntHestia...you are quite the perceptive child, now, aren't you? But, you are right…your 'Aunt Hestia' as you call her, seems to have been forgotten in my tale. It was spring…just before Easter-time, in fact. Your mother and Uncle Jason were at Hogwarts. But their younger sister was too little. She was to start in the fall, you understand…"
"But was she there in the house, or not?" Alexandra interrupted, growing impatient.
The hag scrutinized her.
"Yes," she said abruptly. "Yes, she was. In fact, she saw the whole thing!"
Evan screamed.
Hestia spun around on the spot and stared. In John's arms, Evan was twisting around, bending his small body backward, kicking and fighting, flailing his little fists against his father's chest.
"Evan!" Hestia yelled.
John started and looked at her, confused. He struggled to keep a hold of his son, but Evander was thrashing around and screaming as if someone was tearing his heart in half.
"Evan! Calm down! What is the matter with you! What's wrong, sweetie?" Hestia tried to soothe him, but it wasn't working.
"NONONONONONONONONONONONONONO!" Evander screamed at the top of his lungs. Then he finally succeeded in releasing himself from his father's grasp and slid to the ground.
John looked at his finger, where blood was leaking out. "He bit me!" he said, in a daze. His face was just as white as his son's had been a moment before. He looked down at his youngest child. He looked devastated, Hestia saw, horribly and completely devastated.
Evander threw himself onto his aunt's feet, sobbing uncontrollably. Hestia picked him up gingerly and held him in her arms, whispering words of comfort into his ear, just as she had done only the night before.
"Vanny…it's all right, now, Vanny. Everything's going to be all right, now…sshhhh…don't cry, honey. You're going to make me cry, too!" Hestia hugged him to her, and looked at her brother-in-law.
Evan's sobs subsided as John just stared at the two, a torn expression on his face.
"Evander…" he whispered.
Rain dripped down from the many leaves and branches onto their heads. Thunder ripped through the darkened day once more, jerking John from his trance.
"I-I-I…er…I just…I can't," he started backing away, looking at his son. "I'm sorry, Hestia, but I just can't do this. I thought I was fine…that's why I left the ---- the ---- but, I guess not…"
"John, what are you…" Hestia began in surprise.
But it was too late. He had vanished.
Alexandra stared at the hag. Down the hall, the shouting rose up another notch. The storm grew stronger outside.
At first, she couldn't speak, and then she didn't want to, but she couldn't seem to stop the words from coming out of her mouth. "Aunt Hestia…she…she…she saw----?" Tears sprang into her eyes unbidden.
"Oh, yes, dreadful ordeal, very dreadful…'twould scar a girl for life, seeing something like that! In fact, I suppose it did----"
Suddenly, the hag in the painting was cut off by a deep, quiet, but powerfully firm voice.
"I think that is quite enough!"
"John?" Hestia called. "John!"
She hurried to where he had been just a few seconds before. All she could see in the next flash of lightning, though, were his boot tracks in the mud, leading to nowhere.
"John!" She spun around, looking wildly into the dark night.
Evander, still clutching tightly onto her red, drenched blouse, whimpered as the rain fell harder. "I want my Daddy!"
Hestia looked up at the darkened sky, then through the trees to where the Mansion stood. "I know, Evan." She picked him up, sheltering him from the pounding rain with her own body. "But I can't find him right now. Let's go home."
"IRENE, I CAN NOT UNDO WHAT HAS ALREADY HAPPENED, DAMMIT! WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT OF ME?"
"What do I want?" Irene asked in disbelief. "WHAT DO I WANT? WHAT I WANT, LORD BALFOUR, IS FOR YOU TO BURN THAT WRETCHED FLOWER OF YOURS! WHAT DO YOU THINK I WANT!"
"WHAT? I CAN'T JUST KILL A SNAPPING DRAGONWORT! IT'S A RARE SPECIES! IT DOESN'T EVEN BELONG TO ME, FOR MERLIN'S SAKE! IT'S THE BLOODY WIZARDING INTERNATIONAL BOTANICAL SOCIETY'S! I'M SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF IT, NOT MURDER IT!"
"WELL, THEN, I SUGGEST YOU TAKE CARE OF IT! NOT FEED IT LITTLE GIRLS, YOU ----!"
"It seems we have a bit of an argument! May I be of some assistance?" said a polite voice from the hallway.
Irene and Balfour stopped to look.
The man standing in the entranceway to the front room wore sweeping robes of periwinkle hue. His silver beard flowed down to his belt and his astonishingly blue eyes twinkled with mischief behind half- moon spectacles. To his right, Alexandra released her hold from his hand, wiping the last trace of tears from her eyes.
Irene and Balfour just stared, speechless.
Some things were better left unsaid, after all. Especially in front of Albus Dumbledore.
Author's Note: Thank you SO MUCH everyone who reviewed! I'll love you forever!
Now...about the chapter. Things are getting quite darker, aren't they? I told Anne as I sent it to her for beta-ing that this is the longest chapter I've written for 'Mugwumps' and, also, the most angst-ridden. I'm sorry! But then again, I'm not...
Can anyone guess what is wrong with John? He has a scret he's not telling anyone, I think you can guess that much, but what, exactly, is it? And where has he disappeared off to?