Chapter Eleven:… And the Toadstool
Irene Rosier stood in front of the fireplace in the front room. She stared at the merry, lucent flames with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.
What will I find on the other side? she wondered. What if…what if Balfour's right, what if I was wrong to forgive him?
No! protested the more reasonable side of her. He is the best man you've ever met, that you could possibly ever meet! How can you just explain away these last ten years? We know everything about each other, we planned a future together and watched it be fulfilled, you've cared for him and bore his children, you…you love him!
Irene heard footsteps behind her. She could tell without even turning around that they belonged to her younger sister. Arms enveloped her into a gentle hug from behind, and Irene settled her head onto Hestia's shoulder.
"It's all right," Hestia whispered to her. "You're going to be okay. Just walk into that hospital and care for your husband. He needs you right now. At this moment, it doesn't matter whether he's innocent or not…he's still the same man he was when you married him, when you had the twins, when you hugged him last…no matter what, Irene, he'll always love you. Of that you have no question."
Irene turned around and hugged her sister fiercely. A tear escaped her eye, and she had to choke out, "I know, Hestia…I know…"
They pulled apart, and Irene wiped her eyes. She looked behind her sister's shoulder to see Balfour, Dumbledore, Marmie, and Biddy watching her. Giving them all a small smile, she said, "We'll be back soon."
She turned back towards the fire and withdrew a handful of Floo powder from the urn on the mantle. Tossing it into the fire, she watched as the flames turned from the softest chartreuse to a spicy emerald green.
All of a sudden, what she was doing hit her. I'm going to bring my husband home. He needs me. And no matter what anyone says, I still love him.
Drawing her traveling cloak tighter around her, she stepped into the fire and called out, "St. Mungo's!"
Immediately, the world began to churn around her, filling her with the too-familiar sensation of falling down and sideways at the same time. If she opened her eyes, she'd be able to see the smallest glimpses of Wizarding homes as she left the Mansion and traveled that fiery distance to her own birthplace.
I love him, I love him, I love him…she repeated as she was spun around inside the flames. I love him, and I always will.
John Tobias Rosier stared up at the canopy of his bed. His little brother's light snores filled the room, proving to the world that he had really fallen asleep just as soon as Mum closed their door.
At first, there were creaks and rustles as Morgan and Alexa tried to get comfortable in their own beds. Morgan had fallen asleep almost as soon as Evan did, but Tobias knew his twin was as full of questions as he was.
For a while, she just snuggled deeper and deeper into her blankets, making a little nest for herself, and thinking all the while, no doubt.
When her nest was complete, Tobias heard her muffled voice.
"Toby?"
He turned, facing her bed. He could see two eyes peeking out at him through the darkness.
"Yeah?" he asked, looking back up at his canopy.
"D'you think Daddy'll be okay?" she asked softly.
He twitched his nose. "Of course he'll be okay. Don' you remember what Mum and Dad told us what happened before we were born?"
"Erm…I think so."
Toby shifted. "Well, they said that they were married during the war, and some bad wizards wanted them. So they bought the Rookery and did all these spells so they couldn't be found."
"Bu'…what does that have to do with Dad now?" she asked impatiently.
He sat up and looked over at her. "Because, if the goblins Dad works with don't like him anymore, than it's all right! All we have to do is go into hiding again! Mum and Dad have done it before for almost two years, so they know that they can do it again!"
Alexandra thought on this. "Would we have to move?"
"I…don't think so. If they were hiding in the Rookery, than we can always hide in it again, I guess."
She snuggled deeper in her nest. "Okay."
Toby transferred his gaze back to the canopy.
I don' want to leave the Rookery…but I don' want Daddy in trouble either. If they already know where we live, then…then we'll have to move...
…Won't we?
Hestia watched as the rest of the lingering emerald flames died down. She wished desperately she could have gone with her sister, to make sure John was all right, to make sure Irene was going to be able to live with this weight she was now bearing…
She shook her head. No…that's not my place. My sister can always come to me for advice, for help with the kids, for a place to stay…but that doesn't mean that I am to take the place of John completely.
Biting her lip, Hestia realized what she had just thought.
Taking the place of John completely…Oh, dear Godric Gryffindor! I pray that no one will ever have to! Please let him be innocent! Please let him be innocent! Please let us be able to prove that he is, if he is!
"And now we wait," Balfour remarked softly behind her.
"That is all we can do," Albus Dumbledore added, the lilt in his voice which matched the twinkle in his eyes long since diminished.
Hestia turned around and looked at them. Both men wore sober expressions as they contemplated whatever thoughts moved through those brilliant minds of theirs.
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Smiling a little at the picture the two made just standing there, she raised a shaking hand to brush a lock of hair out of her eyes.
She felt…useless.
Ever since Albus came she'd felt needed…that was just the effect he had on her, but now…there was nothing for her to do but sit and wait for her sister and brother-in-law.
Hestia Hesperus was a woman who made things happen. It was the way she had been all her life. She'd spent most of her childhood making up grand adventures, always dragging Biddy along with her. Then when her parents died, she remembered everyone making such a fuss about her…where would she live? Who were her guardians? And amid the confusion around her, she had decided that as well.
Now that she really thought on it, her life had been filled with things happening to her, just one thing after another, and it was usually she who brought them on.
I really am a Chaser, she thought. I drive the game forward. I throw my life on the line more often than not, but…I always score. Whether it's becoming head of a department that no longer exists, or writing about what I wish we could change about the world and making the opportunity to tell people about it…that's just what I do, what I always have done. And now I am facing one of the biggest problems I might ever face in my life…
…And there's nothing I can do about it.
"I'll…" she croaked, looking at the floor, "I'll be in the---in the library."
And she hurried off before she lost control completely in front of the two men she admired the most.
She was just about to open the doors of her favorite room of the Mansion when she heard a small sniffle. Cracking open the door, she peered cautiously inside.
On the carpeted floor by one of the bookcases, Toby sat, holding his knees to his chest and rocking back and forth.
"Oh, dear," Hestia said softly, looking at his tear-stained face. She walked over and sat next to him on the floor. "Come here, you," she whispered.
At once, he uncurled and buried his face in her side, gulping gratefully. She rubbed his shoulders and let him cry some more, thinking about a scene not too different from this one that only occurred less then twenty-four hours ago.
In a minute or two, Toby was wiping his eyes and shaking his hair from his face, taking deep breaths. It seemed all he'd needed was a friendly shoulder.
"Right then. Do you want to tell me about it?" Hestia asked, looking down at her nephew.
Tobias took a deep breath. "Wwweellll…."
Hestia groaned. "You eavesdropped, didn't you?"
He looked down at his hands, ashamed. "Yeah…we did."
"All of you? Merlin, Tobias! It's one thing to be curious about something you're not supposed to know, but it's another to bring your little brother and sister into it!"
Tobias sniffled. "Yeah, I know," he said mournfully. "I guess me and Lex should have waited till they were sleeping."
"Or you could not have done it at all," Hestia said, shaking her head. She looked down at Toby. Technically, he and his sister should be punished for eavesdropping, but the poor children were already burdened with what they'd heard…wasn't that punishment enough?
Sighing, she hugged him tightly. "So, tell me how you did it," she teased.
He looked up at her, the very picture of innocence. "Did what?"
"Tobias! Your Uncle Balfour put wards up around the whole room! How in the world did you get around them?"
He sighed. "Well, this one was Alexa's idea. When she was floating around, she found Evan's Magi-Monitor----"
"----The one you lost?"
"----Yeah, that one. It was inside the hutch in the corner…"
"Ah. I see. So you listened to the other half of it, and the wards wouldn't have affected them because he only cast them on the ceiling, the walls, and the floor," Hestia finished for him. "They never touched the hutch, so if there was an object in there that had a magical link out, then you could have listened at will."
She expected him to smile and boast at the brilliance of it, but he just looked at the floor dejectedly. Struggling to get more comfortable on the floor, Hestia looked into his eyes, questioning.
Tobias looked right back at her and settled his head on her shoulder. "Aunt Hestia?"
"Yes, Toby?"
"I've got a question…" He trailed off, looking at her hesitatingly.
Hestia smiled. There we go.
"Fire away," she said.
Around her, everything was bedlam.
As soon as she stepped out of the fire, a babble of voices, and the odd whistle or screech, could be heard throughout the entire ground floor.
Around the walls of the large receiving room that Irene was standing in, there were dozens of fireplaces, some of which would glow a brilliant green before witches and wizards stepped out of them, conversing loudly. There was such one family who were standing beside the grate next to Irene's, obviously waiting until they collected all their members. After the fire glowed emerald three more times, the bunch of them (now numbering thirteen in all) left the room, chattering loudly.
Behind her, Irene's fireplace changed colors once again, and she stepped out of the way just in time for a pretty, young witch holding a toddler wrapped tightly in her robes. Irene followed three young men in brilliantly orange robes out of the room and down a short corridor. However, they couldn't go any further, since there appeared to be some sort of blockage at the end of the hall.
"What is it, d'you reckon?" one of the wizards in front asked his orange-clad companions.
The tallest one of the lot craned his neck over the crowd. On the back of his robes, Irene could see a double "C" in bold, black letters. A round, black thing----a cannon ball, perhaps?----flew across his back and disappeared around his side, to reappear on the other side a moment later.
"Looks like the reception room is too crowded," he told them. "Don't know whether anyone can get in now…"
"Blimey!" cursed the other one. "I was hoping we'd be able to see Dudgeon today. He took your Bludger to his head rather hard, Chuck."
The third one, who had remained rather quiet until now, spoke up. "It might clear up soon, anyway. Let's just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best."
His friends stopped peering over the crowd to look at him. Then they started laughing.
Confused, Irene moved away from them to squeeze through the melee. Slowly, visitors were trickling into the reception room where several Healers in official-looking, lime green robes were sorting out the mess.
"Excuse me?" Irene asked the nearest one, a thickset man with a shining bald pate.
"Yes, and what is it you want?" he asked in an exasperated tone.
"I…erm…was wondering if you could tell me where my husband is? His name is John Rosier. He came in this afternoon from----"
"Oh, the one from Gringotts? Yeah, him and a bunch of his friends are up on first floor. 'Creature-Induced Injuries' in the thirteenth ward. Third door on the left…y'can't miss it," he said in a grumble.
Irene thanked him and made her way through the crowd towards the narrow corridor that led to the stairs. Once she left the reception room, the noise lessened considerably. She passed many portraits of past Healers in the wide, brightly-lit hallway. Many doors and corridors breached out on either side of her, where more Healers and visitors bustled to and fro.
One such door had a young wizard with spiky brown hair and an enormous, purple bump on his head. He was completely surrounded by a gaggle of awestruck girls and seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.
"There I was, flying between my goalposts in the middle of our game. We were sixty points up and I was so sure we'd win this baby. Then, all of a sudden, WHAM!----"
The girls jumped as he clapped his hands together.
"---A Bludger flew right at me, and I was falling fast towards the ground sixty feet below..." He trailed off, leaving his admirers in suspense.
Irene moved on and up the staircase, squeezing past a couple in a heated argument.
"----I told you not to go sticking your arm up his behind, Irving, but did you listen to me? No! You never do! And now look where it's landed us----!"
"----But Selma, he had a rash! How was I supposed to know he would---er---you know----"
"Because he is a fire crab!" his wife shrieked.
Irene bit back a laugh as she dodged Irving's badly mutated arm, which he was unwisely swinging around to make his point.
When she reached the top of the stairs, she walked over to the third door on the left, just as the Healer had said. On the door rested a plaque reading:
SALISBURY SCOURGE WARD: SAVAGE SCRATCHES
Healer-In-Charge: Lysander Myrtilus
Trainee Healer: Gladys Gudgeon
She pushed the door open and a loud burst of deep laughter met her ears. More than a dozen wizards were all standing around conversing, or else relaxing in firm chairs as Healers attended to them. Some had only a few minor scrapes, while others looked to be more seriously hurt. Those who weren't hurt at all just stood around, leaning on door frames, all joking in rambunctious terms with their injured comrades.
"I must ask you to hold still!" a Healer cried to her twitchy patient.
"Oh, Danforth can never be still, ma'am," a tall, black man told her. "He always has to be shakin' or doing summat, don't he, boys?"
The rest of his co-workers murmured in agreement. The Healer just sighed in exasperation.
"And who might you be looking for, miss?" The man nearest the door had just spotted Irene.
Heads turned to look.
"John Rosier," Irene replied calmly, aware of all the eyes on her.
" 'E's in that room," he said, pointing. There seemed to be quite a number of men around this one, but Irene was afraid to ask why.
She passed them all and walked into the room. It was a small, but brightly-lit room, with crystal balls of candles floating overhead. There were two beds and a few straight-backed chairs standing against the nicely paneled wall that housed several portraits, all of which were looking down on one of the patients inside disapprovingly. A large window showed the night outside, where a few storm clouds gathered.
It seems that all of Britain is in a pea soup.
Between the two beds was a shelf that housed many potion bottles and ingredients, beside one sickly-looking toadstool with an ugly gray pattern that grew in a large pot.
However, it wasn't the room's furnishings that caught Irene's eye; nor was it the two Healers, or the flaxen-haired patient, who had a pair of startling violet eyes. It was the other man sitting on the bed with his sleeves rolled up and five long, bloody gashes on his arms.
"John!" she said, rushing to him.
The other three looked up from their conversation. John's arm bore some long, ugly welts, and his Healer, who dodged out of Irene's way, had been rubbing slimy green salve onto it. John grimaced as Irene threw her arms around him, but then a big grin broke through on his face, undaunted, and he kissed her cheek.
"Irene, what are you doing here?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"
She took his free hand and ran her fingers against his cheek, which appeared to be devoid of any scars.
"Oh…no! Of course not!" she lied cheerfully. "I just heard you were back and couldn't wait to see you. How was your trip?"
John Rosier shook his head ruefully. "Not so good. There appeared to be a rampage of some sort. We barely got out in time."
Irene looked at him, searching his eyes, then nodded. "Well, it's good you were able to get out at all----"
The fellow beside them gave a mighty yell, clutching his finger in agony.
"Relax, Knold!" John said as the man screamed in pain. "It's just a shot! Nothing more than a pinprick; you've had much worse before! You're in the Beast Controller division, for Merlin's sake!"
Knold moaned. "We deal with ugly beasts out there, boss. They're nothing compared to pretty witches with wands!"
The black-haired Healer attending to his finger just rolled her eyes. "Men," she muttered.
All of the men with their heads stuck through the door watching roared at this.
Irene smiled. I can agree with her on that one.
John's Healer, working around Irene, finally finished with the salve and stood up.
"Done. By the time that absorbs, John, your arm should be good as new. The scars will be gone completely, leaving no trace at all."
John flexed his fingers, "Thanks, Myrtilus, I owe you."
Healer Myrtilus shook his head, smiling. "It's the least I could do after you saved me from that quarrel with the goblins over my vault. Besides, I'm a Healer, aren't I? It's what I do. Just keep it easy…don't use it too much for the next few days. "
He left with Knold's pretty Healer, calling out, "Who's next?"
Irene turned back to her husband. "John, I…I have something to tell you…" She whispered.
John Rosier looked at her. Having lived with Irene for ten-and-a-half years, he could read his wife as easily as he could a book. And now…she was giving him one of the gravest looks she had ever given him. Whatever this was, this…this was serious.
"Knold, leave," he ordered, his eyes never leaving his wife's.
"Aw, boss…" Knold whined. "And this was just starting to get good!"
However, he slowly got up and hobbled to the door, nursing his poor finger.
"And close the door, too," John said.
At once, all the wizards standing around groaned loudly.
"Bloody hell!"
"Merlin, we never get to hear anything good!"
"Figures he'd cut us out…always saves the good stuff for himself, Rosier does…"
John just smirked at them and cast a Silencing Charm on the door as soon as it closed. "Now what is it? Is there something wrong with you? Is there something wrong with the kids? What?"
Irene shook her head, her curls bobbing back and forth. "No…it's…"
She paused, gnawing on her bottom lip. John looked at her with a growing anxiety. "Irene, you can tell me. What happened?"
Suddenly, she stood up. "It's you, John! There's something wrong with you!"
Outside the room, in the hospital ward, the group of wizards stood around and waited for the last of them to be patched up.
Rosier hardly ever kept any secrets from them. He even told them nearly everything that happened on his solo missions, but this past mission…they hadn't all been gone that long for who knows when, and Rosier just seemed sort of…reserved. And then everything started happening at once; things were screwed up, some members went missing, the gold they were trying to guard was stolen, and then…
…Then it all went haywire. They'd barely got out in time, and their boss happened to be the last one out. Of everything they had all gone through together…the many years they had all spent in one close-knit family, protecting each other, helping each other out…they had never seen him so shaken up before. When he came out of that ship, he looked almost…lost.
It had been a great blow to all of them. Rosier was the one they all looked up to. Rosier had fought for them and saved them so many times they couldn't even begin to add them all up.
They were glad that his wife was here. She'd help them. She'd be able to sort this all out. After all, he loved her…he trusted her beyond anything else.
If there was anyone who could help him, it was Irene.
John stared at her.
His mind was a blank. It was as though someone had taken a slate full of formulas and advanced problems and wiped it clean.
It had taken everything his mind could offer to digest the story his wife had told him. And now…
…Now it was blank.
Irene stared up at him. Waiting for an answer…a reaction…anything!
After what seemed like forever, he blinked. He stood up and paced the small room, then went back to the bed and sat down again.
He grabbed his hair in his hands and bent forward. "Merlin's bloody beard," he whispered.
"John…" Irene looked at him desperately. "You know I love you! More than anything! And no matter what happens…I will be there. We're going to get through this, all right? But you have to tell me the truth. I just need to know why, John."
He looked at her. "Why you think they're sure I did this, or why you think I did it?"
"Anything, John! Either one, but please…just answer something!"
His face was chalk white, his green eyes looking into her blue ones intently. "Irene," he whispered. "I swear to you that I did not do it! I would never do anything even remotely close to it! I loved my job…before it started to take me away from you and your trust."
Irene gave a small sob. Her whole being suddenly felt lighter than air. All the weight of the grief and sorrow and fear that had been placed upon her for the past few months were just lifted up at that moment…and it was the best feeling in the world.
John leaned forward and kissed her, drawing her into a fierce hug. "The only way I would ever do that is if someone threatened you or the kids and I could do nothing to stop them, Irene," he said slowly. "But, other than that, I would never do anything that would jeopardize us or our family. If something were to happen to you, Irene, I'd…I'd die."
Irene softly cried into his shoulder. How could I? How could I have ever doubted this man? How could I?
The sky outside suddenly didn't seem to be stormy anymore. In fact, Irene could see a constellation of stars above, while John and Irene just sat there for what seemed like eternity. Neither of them wanted to let go.
Then everything happened at once.
The door burst open and Knold came running in, shouting and waving his arms wildly. But the wards John had cast on the door were still working, and they couldn't hear him. There was a shout outside, and something flew at the window. It shattered, and John yelled in surprise and sheltered Irene from the flying glass with his body. A few shards flew across the room and hit the potion bottles, making several crash to the floor. The smallest piece of glass, however, missed them all completely and kept traveling, faster than the eye could see, finally lodging itself into the toadstool on the shelf, tearing a deep, inch-long gash.
And then the toadstool exploded.
Author's Note: I have nothing to say except the fact that the end is drawing near. There shall only be two to three more chapters left…I'm just debating on whether I should reveal everything to you at the end, or save some things for the next book, to be written after "The Tempest".
What do you think? Do you want to know everything now? Or do you want me to reveal only a few choice matters that are at hand? Would you rather I leave you hanging, and leave some of the plot to be carried on to the next book, giving it more of a flow? Or should I give you all that I've got so you can be satisfied at the end?
You know how to answer. Just review! And tell me you want more of a character, you want more backgrounds, you want more laughter, more tears, more frightening moments…just tell me what you want and I shall accommodate it into my writing!
And so I shall leave you with a hearty "Cheers!" and walk forth to continue on with the story, waiting for your reviews, and getting a quill and paper in hand…Sliding Buckwheat over a bit, since I think he'd much rather not end up looking like a tiger…setting my parchment on my desk and, by light of wand, I pick up my quill and write.