Disclaimer: Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.
A/N: Well, I updated on time! I realize this may not be my most popular story, but I still don't like disappointing people who wait for me to update - the reason why I was feeling so guilty last week… ;)
Either way, this is the last of my regular updates! From now on updates would change, due to circumstances beyond me. Worry not! I am not abandoning this story - I am just going to update less frequently due to starting a very demanding job. For detailed information, check my bio - I explained it there…
I hope that you will enjoy this chapter! It features The Girls now (at least two of them, anyhoo), and one evil man (can you guess who:D). It is a little short, but those first chapters are bound to be short, since they mostly serve as an introduction to the characters. Hope you like!
Enjoy!
Chapter 2 - Little Angels
"Muggles have always been superstitious. They believe in evil spirits and ghosts that can harm them. They believe that certain animals bring bad luck and that certain symbols mark the Evil One - the Devil. They believe that an old hag waving her cane about is always a witch and that any man with unsavory qualities is always a man-witch - a wizard. They believe magic is evil and that it can only be used to do wrong.
"As we have witnessed through the ages, superstition leads to hate, hate leads to bigotry, and bigotry leads to extreme measures. Said measures can include everything from prosecution to torture to death. It is the way superstitious people react in order to make themselves feel safe.
"They feel that if they will burn the old lady with the wart to a cinder she will no longer be able to make their cattle miscarry. They believe that if they will drown the poor man who worked so hard that he missed going to church, he will no longer worship the Evil One.
"What they do not understand is that this makes them far more evil than those poor souls they have seized, even if they had practiced magic in truth. They refuse to see that magic is just another ability we were born with and that this is the only thing that keeps us apart. Other than that particular ability we are the same as they are - human beings with feelings and lives to live. But they do not see it. They just see the outer shell - the magic which separates us.
"For that they will kill us without a moment's thought.
"With that thought in mind, one great man decided that there was nothing else we could do. If we were to protect our lives and our homes, there is only one thing we could do. And so, the Lord Merlin, most renowned of wizardkind, that even Muggles appreciate, had made his decision. The Order of the Knights of the Phoenix had to be founded…"
- The Legacy of the Phoenix, A Study of History (Beginnings); Ryan Ravenclaw
"Rosa! Rosa!" a small girl cried enthusiastically as she hurtled down a staircase, her long black hair flowing wild behind her. "Ros-!" she started again, but never got to finish the word since upon reaching the bottom of the stairs her leg snagged on something invisible and she was sent tumbling to the ground.
Leaning on her hand in order to support herself as she got up, the girl's face showed for a moment an expression of pure shock at suddenly being on the ground - before scrunching said face up and starting to cry as was the wont of any seven-year-old who had just decided that the interesting thing that just happened to them was actually rather painful and warranted pity from any adult in the vicinity.
Instead of an adult, the person who came to the girl's aid was a not much older girl with her black hair tidily plaited, not a hair out of place. She was sitting next to a roaring fireplace, carefully adding stitches to her needlework, when the little girl hit the ground. Upon noticing the little girl bawling her eyes out at the bottom of the staircase, she put her work aside and with a long-suffering sigh got up and went to help.
"Didn't you tell your mother that your shoes are too big yet?" she asked patiently as she helped the little girl up and promptly handed her a handkerchief.
A shake of the head and a sniffle was the only answer she got.
"Do you want me to tell her that?" she pressed forward.
An eager nod.
Shaking her head with a slight smile, Rosalind Fitzpatrick pulled her friend to the fire. "What was it you were so excited about?" she asked. She did not speak like the normal nine-year-old and acted older than her age. She was too serious, people told her parents, but nothing they said really mattered. Rosalind was not about to behave like a little girl just because she was one. The only times she really acted her age, and willingly at that, was when she spent time with her best of friends, Seraphine Fenwick, who was two years younger than her, but able to keep up with her no matter what she did.
The two girls were inseparable since the moment they were introduced to one another, some five years before. Some people mistook them for sisters, since both had a fair complexion and dark hair. However, while Seraphine had dark eyes that were the thing most people noticed first about her, Rosalind's eyes were a warm hazel that at a certain light looked practically golden.
Seraphine was the daughter of a very important man. Her father was the Chief Warlock of the Council of Warlock, which meant that he was the most important man in the British magic community, making all the vital decisions that decided the fate of their people. At that point of life, the girls did not really realize what exactly it was that a Chief Warlock did and just how vital those decisions were and how hard they were on Seraphine's father, Lord Fenwick. They just vaguely knew that everyone without any exception deferred to the tall, dark man and that they revered him beyond anyone else.
As for Rosalind, her family, though not central or very much important in the magical community, was still very much respected. Her line was reputed to produce many strong wizards and the occasional powerful witch. The Fitzpatricks did not wish to meddle in the politics of the community, preferring to dedicate their efforts to research of magic or help those that needed aiding.
At the mention of the reason for her excitement, Seraphine brightened considerably. Her tears dried on her cheeks and she grinned. "Guess who comes back today? I dare you - you will never guess!" she said, practically bouncing.
Rosalind frowned. Who could 'come back' to York? It had to be someone that Seraphine very much liked, since she was very much excited, and it also had to be someone that her friend thought she would find interesting, or at least be happy that they had returned. How many people did the girls know that could come back and elicit such a response from the other girl?
A smile spread on her lips as understanding washed over her. She turned to Seraphine. "Is it Ambrosius?" she asked, barely containing her own excitement.
Seraphine pouted. "You're no fun," she said, crossing her arms petulantly. "You weren't supposed to know."
"So it is him?" Rosalind demanded.
"Yes, yes. It's Ambrosius." After a moment her friend's expression brightened again. "Can you believe this? I can barely remember how he looks - but it's so great that he's back! He's very fun!"
Rosalind could not argue. Ambrosius was some fifteen years older than her, but was still her friend. He had watched over her as a child, inventing games for her, singing with her and reading her stories. He also taught her a few magic tricks that she found very entertaining and that made her parents stare at her in shock when she showed those tricks to them. He always smiled at her and always had time for her, unlike most of the grown up people she knew.
Ambrosius kept watching over her until she was six. Then, however, his father died from old age, and his older brother was rejected by the Council for reasons that were never specified, and he had to go to Stonehenge and take his hereditary seat in the First House. That was three years before. He never once returned to York since then.
"Do you think he still remembers us?" Seraphine asked worriedly. After the girls were introduced to one another, Ambrosius was also charged with watching over Seraphine and had grown to know her as well.
"I hope so," Rosalind said, suddenly frowning. She had not considered it. Ambrosius was now a very important man. He had been gone for three years. Was it at all possible that he no longer remembered the two girls who had attached themselves to him all that time ago? Or no longer cared? Rosalind did not know what would be worse. She really wanted Ambrosius to visit her - he was her friend and she wanted that friendship to continue despite the years that had passed. She did not know if she would be able to bear it if he no longer cared for her.
Changing the subject, she asked "When is he coming, do you know?"
"Next week, Father said. He says that Lady Quirina is ill and that she called for Ambrosius to be with her for a while. Father said he will invite him to join us in our evening meal after he made his visit to his mother."
"That would be lovely!" Rosalind cried. "I wonder if he will come and visit my parents as well… they really like him - he's like another son to them, I think. I don't think Raymond likes him much, though."
Raymond, Rosalind's oldest brother, was about Ambrosius' age yet never seemed to get along with the other young man. Rosalind always wondered why. Ambrosius was such a nice, caring person, really.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
York never changed. It was always its gloomy self, with drenched streets and a foul weather. The Muggles kept changing its name for some obscure reason, every time someone else conquered the place, but for the magic community of the city it was always York - ever since a Seer had said that it would forever be known by that name in the future. Currently the Muggles residing there, oblivious of the extensive magic community prospering there, called it Jorvik. It was close enough to York, and therefore the wizards and witches, whenever venturing into the Muggle parts of town, did not have much trouble pronouncing the Muggle name.
At that point of history, the city was a major river port, its docks bustling with noises and colours. There were many people living there now and it was just amazing that none of them stumbled over the magic people who were their neighbours.
Ambrosius of York walked among the crowds, letting the sounds of the fish market and the street vendors wash over him and tell him that he was really back. He had been gone for three years, busy with the duties of a Council member, and a First House member at that. Those were very hard three years on the young man and demanded him to sacrifice a lot. He sometimes wondered if it was really worth it.
His big, simple cloak covered his fine clothes completely, not allowing any pickpockets pin him down as a rich, powerful man. He walked briskly and with purpose as he wove through the crowds and nearer his destination. Inside his cloak, his hand was clenched around his wand. These were troubled times - Muggles seizing people suspected to be magic without hesitation. It did not do to be not careful.
The magic quarter of town was at the very north of it, near the walls, and was sheltered from Muggle eyes by layers on layers of Muggle repelling charms and any other spell that had been piled over its borders throughout the years. It was very ancient. Its earliest buildings had foundations from the days when it had only been a Roman fortress.
Walking into the slightly quieter, crooked and narrow alleyways of the magic quarter, he sighed in relief. He was home. Around him people wearing a colourful mixture of Muggle clothes and wizarding robes walked about their business. A wart-covered old witch offered him to buy a flying carpet from her dingy little store. A tall man of Anglo-Saxon origins showed him a display of enchanted jewelry, saying they were the finest this far north in a heavy, indecipherable accent. A small boy with a tray full of freshly baked pastries advertised his wares in a big voice that did not sit well with his size. People laughed and shouted, caught up with friends and discussed the day's most pressing issues. It was good to be home.
Smiling and shaking his head to each vendor that tried to catch his eyes with their merchandise, he continued up the snaking street. Here he would not be out of place with his clothes, and therefore he removed his simple cloak, revealing the deep red, black-embroidered robes. It was so good not to hide his true self.
Finally, he arrived at his destination. A large, wall-surrounded house which had a slightly neglected look to it loomed in front of him. He sighed a little at this. Without him around, his mother did not think of hiring someone to do the maintenance of the house for her. Not since his brother died the year before, anyway, by the look of the grubby walls and the seedy-looking garden.
Determined, he walked through the rusty gates and up the path leading to the front door. The wood of the door was chipped and weathered. The house had seen better days. Once he was within the walls, the noise of the street outside became a mere distant murmur and he finally allowed himself to relax.
His mother was apparently next to the upper floor's window, for a moment later the front door opened to reveal her thin, wasted figure. Her smile was still beautiful, despite her age and illness.
"Ambrosius," she greeted as he neared her. "So good of you to come."
"I would not have ignored your summons for the world, Mother," he said with a smile to match hers. "We should go in. It is chilly."
"Pah! Nonsense!" she dismissed his warning. "It is always chilly here. I am already immune to it after years of living in this damp ruin." Though the words were mocking, there was a definite fond note in her voice as she spoke of the house.
"You may be immune," he said consolingly, "but I've been away from here for three years and lost all resistance I may have had. Shall we go inside?"
"If you wish it so, dear," she laughed.
It hurt to see his mother this frail, he concluded that evening after she had retired for the night and he sat with his drink in front of the dying fire. She was never healthy, that much was true, but he never saw her quite like that. Coming from the south of England at a young age to marry an older man whom she did not know and did not love, despite her words, his mother never did get used to the colder northern climate. As long as he could remember, Ambrosius' mother had been weak and sickly. It did not help that she was constantly with child on the demands of her husband.
Ambrosius was the youngest of his parents' children. Then there was his oldest brother and between them seven sisters. He knew that there had been many other children, but a few were stillborn and many were lost while still in the womb. His mother never fully recovered after the last one died. It was almost a blessing when his father died, knowing that no one would hurt his mother anymore.
Five of his sisters and his brother took after their father in their behaviour towards their mother, seeing her as a mere convenience and practically a slave to their needs. His eldest sister, however, and the youngest one, as well as himself, were always attached to their mother more than to their father. They were the least liked among the family. His eldest sister was now married with children somewhere in Wales, and the youngest died five years before from an illness that was never fully understood. His others sisters were married elsewhere and did not care for their mother in her illness. His brother was dead.
It was a broken family, he surmised as he brooded. A once proud line which managed to hold its place in the Council without trouble. The rejection of his brother from the Council proved that there was something amiss with their House, something weakened and not quite as it should be. When he came to Stonehenge three years before he was sure he would be rejected as well, but when he had been accepted as one of the First House, he had vowed to change it all.
His House would once again be its strong self. He swore to elevate himself and through him, his line, to the highest honour possible.
He would one day succeed Lord Fenwick as Chief Warlock.
He was ambitious enough and knew how politics worked. He would conquer that seat if needed, but he would manage it - and no one would stop him.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next day, after spending the entire morning with his mother, Ambrosius went to the other side of the magic quarter and to the house of a family which had always been hospitable to him. The Fitzpatricks were good people, and despite their eldest's dislike for him, he promised himself to visit them when he was in York. He wanted to see how Rosalind was doing, anyway.
Little Rosalind Fitzpatrick whom he had known since she was born was very dear to him. He had watched over her often in her first six years of life and cared for her very much. He wanted to know if she had changed at all in his three years of absence.
He knocked on the front door, waiting to be admitted inside.
The door was opened by Raymond Fitzpatrick, said eldest child who was about Ambrosius' age. The family never believed in hiring help. They cooked and cleaned themselves, as well as answered the door. Ambrosius found that somewhat demeaning.
"Lord Ambrosius," Raymond said politely, his eyes cold. "I did not know you have returned."
"Only for a short visit," he said, allowing his disdain show in his voice. Even if Raymond was willing to let the disagreements of the past be gone, Ambrosius was not such a man. He nursed his hurt carefully and tended to it. He will never forgive Raymond and he would get back at him if at all possible. He would allow no one to slight him. "I came to pay my respects to your parents."
"They are working," the young man said shortly, "but if you will wait in the kitchen I will call for them - it is the warmest room today."
Nodding, Ambrosius swept past him and made his way to where he knew the kitchen was. Waiting there, he wondered if Rosalind was around. She was a sweet girl, but too serious for her age. She most likely would be studying something, he decided.
Soon Master Fitzpatrick was there to greet him with his arms wide open. He always got along with the boy, even though his wife was slightly apprehensive about him and his eldest son openly disliked him. It was not long before Ambrosius was telling the older man everything about his years with the Council and how he managed to gain Lord Fenwick's trust and appreciation.
He was in the middle of describing the Chamber of the Council at Stonehenge (he did not understand Master Fitzpatrick's fascination with that of all things, but the man was always peculiar) in detail when two chattering girls entered the kitchen, not noticing the two inside, with Raymond on their heels.
Ambrosius did not spare a glance to the younger girl - not that it was intentional. It was just that his eyes seemed not able to move from the older girl. He knew she was only nine, but that did not stop him from evaluating her - the woman she would become. He found himself staring at her quite calculatingly, his mind's eyes transforming her into a sixteen-year-old and then a twenty-year-old and he almost had to fight himself to stop his mouth from watering. Rosalind Fitzpatrick, with her lovely black hair and wide hazel eyes, would be growing into a very beautiful woman.
Before he could say anything, the girls suddenly noticed his presence, and with a very unbecoming shriek, Rosalind threw herself at him, hugging him tightly.
"Ambrosius!" she cried. "Sera said you were coming - but I didn't know if you would come to visit us." She then gave him a reproachful look. "You do remember me, don't you?"
Chuckling, he ruffled her hair, eliciting an indignant cry from her. "Of course I remember you! You are… are you Seraphine?"
"No!" she yelled in annoyance, making him laugh harder.
"Don't worry, lovely. I know who you are. You are my little Rosa. Who else could you be?"
"You didn't forget me?" she asked timidly.
"I wouldn't be able to even if I tried. How have you been?"
The next hour was spent with the two girls commandeering his attention, telling him of all they had been up to since he had been gone. He did not mind it one bit. As long as he could spend time contemplating Rosalind and making future plans concerning her.
He did not notice Raymond noticing his stares at the girl.
When he turned to leave after bidding his host goodbye and detaching Rosalind and Seraphine from himself, Raymond pulled him to the empty corridor and pinned him to the wall, his hazel eyes, so alike Rosalind's and yet so different, burning in anger.
"I saw you looking at my sister, you lecher," the man hissed, his hands clutching the neck of Ambrosius' robes. "Get near her, and I will kill you myself. I was willing to let things be forgiven and forgotten, but this made me see that it was a mistake. If you ever touch her in any way that is not proper, I will have your hide - make no mistake!" Then he let go.
"I have no idea what you are talking about," Ambrosius said coldly. Then, straightening his robes, he left the house and a fuming Raymond behind him.
He was now determined. Rosalind Fitzpatrick would be his, no matter what.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lord Fenwick was nervous. The man who ruled the Council of Warlocks with great conviction, justice and care was very nervous. He had faced angry petitioners, haughty lords and enraged peasants, and yet none of those had frightened him like the person he was about to face now.
His wife was standing in front of him, waiting for him to say something.
He had entered their bedchamber, knowing she will be preparing to retire for the night after putting little Seraphine to bed. It was her routine for all the long years they had been married. Make sure the little ones were safely tucked in bed and asleep before she headed to bed herself. He had delayed until now, but realized that he could not postpone this conversation any longer. His conversation with Ambrosius several hours earlier made it clear to him.
He had consulted with him concerning his idea. Ambrosius was completely against it, but that was only to be expected. He after all despised the intended man for some reason of which Fenwick was not quite sure of, as hard as he tried to understand it. Despite Ambrosius disagreeing with him, he was still determined to do it. It would be the best of ideas.
"Well?" Celestine asked, her hands her hips, her patience, coupled with tiredness, running short.
Taking a deep breath and smiling at his her, he said "I have found someone who would be perfect as Sera's husband when the girl grows up. He is a very powerful wizard and very much respected by everyone in the Council. He is determined and stubborn and wealthy enough to make Sera comfortable for the entirety of her life. He is a good man also and I am sure will make her very happy when they marry. He is trustworthy and honourable and-"
"Who is he?" she asked quietly, her dark eyes staring at him penetratingly, unmoving. She was, apparently, not to be deterred from the main issue. That he thought about marrying their daughter off already, despite her young age.
Coughing lightly, he said "Searlas Slytherin. He's a very-"
"He is too old for her," she said in an emotionless voice, though her eyes flared angrily. "If I remember correctly, Lord Slytherin is already well into his third decade."
He had nothing to say concerning that. Searlas was indeed into his third decade, though only at his early twenties. He frowned, however. "There is nothing wrong with marrying her to an older man, dear. It has been done all throughout history, and I am sure Searlas would not mind-"
"Of course he would not mind!" she lost her temper and cried, thumping her hand on the table. "He will be marrying into our family - he will get all the benefits out of this connection, and Seraphine will be stuck with an old and ugly man as her husband!"
"Searlas is not like that," Lord Fenwick said softly, knowing that his wife would regain her composure in a hurry if he played it just right. "He is a very kind, handsome man. He is quiet and respects women. He is not that old, either. It's not like I am suggesting wedding Sera to him now. It would wait for a decade or so, until she is old enough and at a childbearing age."
"So you have already struck the deal," she said bitterly.
"No, I have not. Believe me, Celestine; I would not do such a thing to you or to our daughter. I have not approached Searlas yet. I wanted your approval first. Believe me; I would not have suggested him had I believed him unworthy of Sera. He is the best man for her. I stand by my word."
Celestine remained quiet for a while, her eyes fixed on the dancing flames in front of her. He knew it was hard for her, that she still saw Seraphine as the child she was. He was different. He knew that he will not live forever, and that it was better to already have someone committed to protect his little girl. He allowed her to contemplate his suggestion in silence, opting to stand by the window and watch as the rain continued falling.
"Will he be good to her?" his wife's voice finally said from behind him. "Can you guarantee that he will never hurt her?"
"I can," he said with confidence. "And I will. Searlas is the best of our choices. You agree, then?"
"I do," she said firmly. "But if he ever hurts my little one, I will tear his insides out - First House Lord or not!"
Smiling inside as well as outside, he turned to face her and nodded. "If he ever hurts our little one, I will hunt him down and slit his throat - no matter where I am at the moment - dead or alive."
"Good," she said firmly and then started smiling again.
And the couple sat down to phrase their suggestion to Lord Slytherin.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rosalind was lying on her belly on the worn hearthrug in the kitchen of her house with Seraphine on her back beside her. The kitchen was empty aside of the two, but the pleasant aroma of cooking meat dominated the air, mingling with the smell of burning, fragrant wood.
It was the day after Ambrosius left back for Stonehenge, some two weeks after his arrival, and the girls were bored. Suddenly, Seraphine grinned at her friend.
"What?" Rosalind asked curiously, turning her face to fully look at the younger girl.
"I bet you would want to marry Ambrosius when you will be older," she said with a smirk on her face.
"Will not!" Rosalind cried out. "He's my friend! Eww… I mean - eww. He's so old, too! How could you even suggest that?"
"Because you were so excited about him and you didn't leave his side since he arrived and until he left," Seraphine said, teasing.
"I would never marry a man the same age as my brother," Rosalind huffed. "Nor will I marry someone who is as good as a brother to me."
"Then who will you marry?" There was a curious tone in her friend's voice.
"I'll tell you if you will tell me," she avoided answering.
"All right!" Seraphine said enthusiastically, her small hands clapping as she sat up, grinning down at her friend. "I will tell you! The man I will marry will have wheat-yellow hair and blue eyes like the sky. He will be kind and funny and will love me and only me forever and ever. He will take me on his horse every day and we will eat under the sky-"
"And what if it would rain?"
"-then he will build us shelter and we will watch as the rain falls as we eat! Merlin, Rosa, don't interrupt me!"
"Sorry…"
"And he would bring me flowers every day and we will spend the evenings in front of the fire, and we will talk, and he will be witty and have many interesting tales to tell, about his adventures in the wide world - he would be a great traveler, you know, and will bring me gifts from all over the world - and we would laugh and be together forever after. And he will be handsome, and strong, and powerful, and he will only be happy with me by his side."
"That's it?" Rosalind asked when Seraphine finished, her eyes bright with excitement.
"More or less, yes," the younger girl admitted. "Oh - and we will live in a big, white castle and have many servants to address our every need. Now it's your turn - and don't you dare avoid it again, Rosa - I told you mine!"
"Fine, fine," Rosalind muttered. It was true that at some point she pictured the same husband as her friend and the same future, but lately, as she watched her parents and more frequently, her brother and his intended, it had somehow changed. She smiled dreamily as she told her friend what she saw in her mind's eye. "My husband would be tall and strong. He would have twinkling eyes that would always laugh and soft hair the colour of the dark earth south of town. He will love me and see that I am always happy, but I would allow it only as long as he is happy too.
"We will live in a small house that he would build with his own hands and we will make our home our own. He will be kind and caring and will always be there for me when I need him as I will be there for him. We would never fight and would always know what the other needs. His laughter would light my darkest day and his love would be the most important thing that he could give me.
"He will hold me when I am afraid, and comfort me when I am hurt. We will have a lot to talk about and would never fear sharing our feelings and thoughts with each other. I will be happy…" her voice died. It was the first time she gave words to the vision in her mind, and it left her almost speechless. What would she give to have that little house and that man who would love her…
"That's very pretty," Seraphine said, interrupting her thoughts. "I'm glad that you shared it with me. Aren't you glad?"
With some effort, Rosalind pulled herself out of her self-induced daydream, forcing the images away from her mind with her more normal practicality. She managed to push a smile on her lips and nodded at her friend. "Yes, I am very happy. And I know that this will come true. For both of us."
At that moment in the warm, safe kitchen she was indeed sure of it and certain that there would be no possible way that their futures would change. They would be happy. She just knew it. She had no doubt that their dreams would come true and that they would find love.
Fate, however, does not always act as one would like it to, and as the two girls shared their dreams and hopes with each other that afternoon in the cosy kitchen of the Fitzpatrick household, it was already weaving a very different path for them, one that would take them years to understand.
So… what did you think? Hmmm? Stay tuned for the next chapter as more loved characters from Tale appear!
I can't think of much to say except thank all those who had reviewed! See you on the next update!
Hugs and kisses to all!
-Star of the North