Mrs. Wilison could swear that the available parking spaces in central London were relegated to the same dimension as the socks that disappeared from the dryer. It seemed as though the likelihood of finding a space decreased with the urgency of the task and the number of screaming children in the car. On this day, she was even further distracted by something from the fairy tale-like world to which her son belonged. It was no secret that most matters concerning his new school warped her perception of reality. That held true as this time it was his bank's turn to threatened to compromise her sanity. While it was true that most banks did their utmost to accomplish that task, this bank had an advantage because it was a bank run by goblins.
Things had taken a turn for the bizarre when she had received a message that had arrived attached to an owl. The confusion compounded when she had read that they were requesting that she bring her children into the bank for an appointment scheduled for that day. A request that made no sense to her since she was sure they would not want to meet with anyone who was not magical. She was positive she was not so afflicted, and after her experiences with Dean's accidental magic, she was also certain that her daughters had yet to show any signs of being anything other than normal.
She couldn't help but reflect on the sight they must have presented walking into that pub. Dean had held each of his sisters by their hands while she had latched firmly onto his shoulder. It had been awkward yet necessary; something that could not be avoided. Due to the wizard's need for secrecy, normal people couldn't see the pub without the aid of someone possessing magic.
Then there was the walk through the alley itself. Mrs. Wilison couldn't suppress her smile as her eldest took charge and escorted them down the lane toward the white marble building that was the goblin's bank. He never let go of Rosie's hand, despite the girl's constant insistence that she was old enough to walk by herself.
A reminder that this was the world he inhabited for the majority of his time came when she and her children were waiting in line for a teller when Dean saw somebody he recognized.
"Harry! Mate! How's it going?"
Mrs. Wilison turned just in time to see a black-haired boy with a hand on his forehead responding to the greeting. "Dean. Mate. Words cannot describe my day so far."
"Better you than me." Dean gave a grin. "I hope it's not as bad as the end of the year."
"It has the potential to be worse." Harry frowned. "I'm sorry, but I've got no time to talk right now." He started to hurry off towards a woman who was obviously waiting on him. "Just as a heads up, if the goblins come at you with a big knife, make a run for it."
"Is this from experience?" Dean asked.
"What do you think?" Harry called over his shoulder as he stood before the woman.
Despite their evident hurry, the woman took the time to smile and wave at Dean, the girls, and Mrs. Wilison. "Send an owl. I'm sure there's no reason you can't have a proper get together sometime this summer," she suggested even as she hurried Harry out of the bank.
"Friend of yours?" Mrs. Wilison asked her son.
"Bloke shares my dorm room." Dean shrugged. "We get along all right."
"Okay," Mrs. Wilison said, turning her attention back to waiting in line. A while later she approached one of the tellers. "Hello, I hope you're having a pleasant day."
"Very much so." The goblin gave her a wicked grin. "Though I do not foresee any more points gained in the immediate future."
"Points?" Mrs. Wilison asked.
"My fellow tellers and I have a friendly wager going. How may Gringotts help you today?"
"Oh, I've received a letter asking me to come in." Mrs. Wilison retrieved the parchment from her purse.
Wordlessly, the goblin held out his hand.
"I have no idea what this is about." Mrs. Wilison admitted.
"I'm afraid I couldn't guess." The goblin had opened a logbook and was checking the letter against it. "However, your timing is impeccable." He waved a younger-looking goblin over. "Ringknife, take this family to see Sawtooth."
"Follow me," Ringknife said neglecting any other acknowledgment.
It was Mrs. Wilison's turn to call out over her shoulder. "Thank you and have a nice day."
The teller nodded his head in return and she didn't hear him mutter. "Is she trying to make me lose points?"
A few minutes later, they were ushered into an office with a harried-looking goblin sitting behind a parchment-covered desk.
"Hello, Mr. Sawtooth I presume?" Mrs. Wilison said upon seeing him.
Sawtooth looked up from his work. "Ah, Mrs. Wilison and offspring. Greetings. It is just Sawtooth, Manager Sawtooth if you must."
"Greetings Manager Sawtooth." Mrs. Wilison gave a weak smile.
"Thank you for coming on such short notice." Sawtooth hopped out of his chair and walked around his desk. "We find ourselves in a situation where timing is important."
"It's no bother," Mrs. Wilison said. "I was planning on bringing Dean to the Alley later today anyway, though I was going to leave the girls with their father."
"Yes, yes," Sawtooth said, turning to the young wizard in the room. "Dean Thomas?"
"Yes sir," Dean said, subtly checking to see if the goblin was carrying a knife.
"The pensieve is over there." The goblin pointed at what appeared to be a highly decorated birdbath. "Go put your face in it."
"You want me to do what?" Dean asked.
"Lean over the pensieve and put your face in it." The goblin had an evil grin.
"I'll pass."
"You've nothing to fear. There is a message waiting for you."
"You want me to stick my face in that bowl?" Dean asked skeptically.
"It is a pensieve, but otherwise yes." Sawtooth continued to grin.
"I'll do it." Mrs. Wilison's youngest daughter, Rosie exclaimed and took a couple steps towards the bowl. Unfortunately for her, Dean still hadn't let go of her hand, reminding her that she lacked the strength to drag him anywhere if he didn't wish to comply.
"I'm sorry young miss; the message is for Dean alone," Sawtooth said.
"Aww."
"Who's it from?" Dean asked suspiciously.
"It wouldn't do to spoil the surprise," Sawtooth said. "Please hurry; I have things to discuss with your mother."
Sighing, Dean handed Rosie's hand to Eva, his other sister. "Keep a grip on her," he said, and Eva nodded her understanding. Then, warily, he stepped up to the birdbath. He looked down at the silvery liquid inside before saying, "You want me to stick my face in that?"
"First time in a pensieve I see," Sawtooth said. "Well, get on with it. Time is money."
"I'm not sure . . ."
"You want to do this." Sawtooth assured him.
Dean gave the goblin one more doubt-filled look before leaning down to hesitantly touch the liquid with his nose. As soon as he made contact, his whole body went limp and he flopped down, fully immersing his face.
"Dean!" Mrs. Wilison took several steps towards her son before Sawtooth's voice snapped out.
"Halt!"
Mrs. Wilison obeyed, favoring the goblin with a nasty glare.
"It looks a lot worse than it actually is," Sawtooth said in a soothing voice. "Do not worry; he is simply viewing a memory. This one happens to last for fifteen minutes and forty-three seconds."
Mrs. Wilison stared at the goblin as Rosie took three steps towards the pensieve, dragging her older sister with her.
"Stop!" Sawtooth barked again. This time, when he had the attention of all three females, he gestured at some comfortable chairs. "Please have a seat."
The three all sent Dean worried looks before complying.
"Now, Mrs. Wilison, it is time to discuss your late husband."
"Late?" Mrs. Wilison all but shrieked. "He was just fine this morning. What happened?"
"I am sorry, I misspoke," Sawtooth said, walking back behind his desk. "I was referring to your first husband, Dean's sire."
"Dean's father?" Mrs. Wilison gasped as realization hit. "He was a wizard? Like Dean."
"He was indeed," Sawtooth said, sitting in his chair. "I am afraid he felt the need to distance himself from you and your son due to the war between the wizards. It was an effort to ensure your safety, a decision that turned out to be well-founded."
Dean's mother regarded the goblin with her mouth half open. Then, she reached out and pulled Rosie into her lap. "Was it painless?" she asked listlessly.
Sawtooth considered her for a few seconds. "He died honorably, protecting those he valued more than his own life. Your very existence was never divulged to his murderers."
Tears started to trickle down Mrs. Wilison's face. "I thought he had abandoned us."
"You were mistaken."
Mrs. Wilison buried her face in her younger daughter's hair.
Sawtooth opened the top drawer on the left side of his desk. "He left you a letter," he said, reaching in to retrieve an envelope.
Mrs. Wilison's only response was a sob that wracked her entire body, shaking poor Rosie in the process.
"Mum." Eva jumped from her seat to rush over to hug her mother. "Don't cry. Don't be sad."
Mrs. Wilson reached out with an arm and pulled both Eva and Rosie into a tight hug, kissing the top of Eva's head as she cried.
Only his extensive experience with humans cut short any comment on the display of emotion. Cursing the delay, Sawtooth sat back in his chair and waited.
Exactly on schedule, Dean pushed himself up, placing his hands on the rim of the pensieve. The first thing he was aware of in the room was his mother huddled in a chair with his two sisters. All three of them had tear tracks running down their faces. He seemed to consider the sight before he grunted and hurried over to the desk. "What happened?"
"I told her about your father." Sawtooth informed the boy.
Dean nodded grimly. "Do you have it?"
Sawtooth nodded in turn and reopened the drawer from which he had withdrawn the letter that was now sitting on his desk. "The recipe was in the Black vault as we were informed." From the drawer's depths, he produced four vials of potions, three light blue and the final one clear. Growling slightly, Dean pocketed the crystal containers.
"Thank you," Dean said through gritted teeth.
Sawtooth nodded again and tossed a small pouch onto the desk, which clinked with the coins it contained. Dean took that as well, giving Sawtooth an unreadable glare the entire time. "That will not happen," he told the goblin with venom in his voice.
Sawtooth nodded yet again. "I understand."
"Dean?" Mrs. Wilison sniffed. "was . . . Did that memory come from your father?"
Unable to look his mother in the eyes, Dean stared at Rosie's legs. "Yes mum."
Mrs. Wilison held out her arm and waved for Dean to come over and join the hug. She could have sworn she heard him sob as he clung to the three females.
"Mum," Dean said after a minute, "why don't you go down and inventory the vault? I'll take the girls out for ice cream while you do that."
"It can wait." Mrs. Wilison said softly.
"No," Dean said hurridly, before moderating his own tone. "No. it's best to get it out of the way."
"I don't think so," Mrs. Wilison said. "It can wait."
"No." Dean said again. "There's no reason not to do it now. I'll take Eva and Rosie out for ice cream."
"Dean, we can come back later and do it together. I want to be near my children right now."
"Mum!" Dean said pausing for a second as he seemed to stop and consider his next words. "I think waiting will only make it worse."
Mrs. Wilison studied her son. "Are you trying to get rid of me so you can do something dubious?" she asked.
"Yes." Dean admitted. "We are going to eat so much ice cream."
"Maybe I'd like some ice cream too."
"Mum." Dean said. "You'll be complaining for a week if I let you eat a gallon of ice cream."
"Okay, okay, you've got a point."
"Mum, I will protect my sisters," Dean said fiercely. "I will protect you."
Sawtooth abruptly broke into the conversation "Now that that is settled, I have work I need to get back to." On some unseen signal, the door to the office opened and a goblin walked in. "Ringknife will escort the children to the lobby so they can go get their treat; then, he will take you to your vault." Sawtooth slid a golden key across the top of his desk to conclude the meeting.
Mrs. Wilison exited the cart feeling a good deal better than when she had left the office. "They pay you to do this all day?" she asked Ringknife.
"Yes."
"Lucky you. I know people who'd give their eyeteeth for a ride like that."
Ringknife cautiously contemplated the human female.
"I don't suppose you've got a loop de loop or two squirreled away down here?" Mrs. Wilison asked.
"We have a few for the more irksome customers," Ringknife admitted.
"We couldn't hit them on the way back? Could we?"
"I might be able to manage that." Ringknife said with a grin.
"How much would I have to pay to convince you to take us riding around for an hour?"
Ringknife's grin widened. "You're trying to put off visiting the vault."
Mrs. Wilison sighed. "You're right." Then she straightened her back. "Let's get this over with. I shouldn't keep the children waiting overly long."
Ringknife grunted as he walked over to a stone door set into the wall. "Key please." He held out his hand.
Mrs. Wilison handed him the desired item then watched him fiddle with the door a bit before it swung open to expose the chamber beyond. A low whistle escaped the woman's lips. "How much is in here?"
The goblin went over to a book sitting on a pedestal inside the vault just to the left of the door. After examining a page, he said. "Hmm this morning there was just over seven hundred galleons inside."
"Where did the rest come from?"
"It says here that it came from the Black vaults as payment for services that would have been rendered by allies."
"Services? What services?"
"It doesn't specify."
"The Blacks sure are generous," Mrs. Wilison noted.
"They are a family known for taking care of their allies," Ringknife said
"That much is obvious."
"That being said, they are also known for taking care of their enemies." Ringknife grinned evilly.
Dean and his sisters stood in front of the counter at Florean Fortescue's and browsed the wares. "What are those?" Dean asked, pointing to some jars on a shelf.
Florean looked over his shoulder to see where the lad was pointing. "Those are our toppings for the more adventurous connoisseurs."
"Oh?" Dean tilted his head. "What exactly are those?"
Another glance ensued. "Those are pickled pepper fruit."
"On ice cream?" Dean scrunched his nose.
"It depends on the ice cream. I have flavors they go perfectly with, though I doubt a pallete as young as yours would appreciate the combination."
"And those?" Dean pointed again.
"Candied slugs."
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
"May I see them?" Dean asked.
The proprietor reached up and took down the jar, with a good-natured chuckle. "I'll admit, I don't get much call for these."
Looking at the jar sideways, Dean unscrewed the lid before taking a sniff. "I can't imagine why."
"Dean, I don't want candied slugs on my ice cream." Rosie pouted.
"Don't worry Rosie. I'll get you whatever you want." Dean said. "How about those?" He pointed again.
Florean turned to look. "Those are jellied frog spawn."
"Eww," said Eva.
"I meant to the left of them," Dean said as Florean started to turn back to his customers.
Turning back to the shelf Florean said. "That's the pepper fruit."
"Your other left." Dean said.
Florean chuckled. "That's my right. And that's spiced camel liver."
"Eww," Eva repeated. "Dean!" she whined pitifully.
"All right, all right." Dean relented as he screwed the lid back on the slugs. "What do you want then?"
Five minutes later the siblings were sitting at a booth. The two girls were digging into large sundaes while Dean picked sullenly at his own, deep in thought. Before long, he was interrupted by a questioning voice. "Dean?"
"Dudley." Dean said when he saw the overweight boy. "Sit." He pointed across from himself at the spot next to Eva.
Dudley took the proffered seat, looking around himself with a look akin to fear. "Did you get a letter too?"
"Shut up," Dean growled.
"I was just wond . . ."
"I said, 'shut up'." Dean growled again.
Dudley glared at Dean. "Freak."
"Arse." Dean bit back.
"Dean," Rosie sing-songed. "I'm telling Mum."
Dean grunted, ignoring his sister in favor of glaring at Dudley.
Glancing around again, Dudley sweated and avoided the gaze. "What did I do."
"It's what you didn't do. You were supposed to protect them."
Dudley squirmed, his gaze doing another round of taking in his surroundings before finally ending on Dean's sundae.
Dean sighed and pushed his dessert over. "Take it; I'm not hungry."
Eva eyed the boy next to her and sniffed. "You shouldn't eat that. You need to go on a diet."
"Listen," Dudley said around a spoonful. "I don't need a . . ."
"Be careful what you say next." Dean broke in. "Odds are you'll regret it later."
Dudley glared at the other boy, but returned to eating without another word.
"Dean lad!" Florean called out from behind the counter where he was serving a trio of older boys. "Look here, I have a group trying the candied slugs. Are you sure you don't want some as well?"
"No thanks, sir." Dean called back.
"Are you serving us or are you going to waste our time talking to filth." One of the boys at the counter sneered.
"Here now, there's no need for that." Florean said.
"Don't bother," Dean spoke up before Florean could kick the other boys out of the shop.
Florean looked at Dean and nodded before going back to serving the older boys, "Enjoy your ice cream." he said with a forced smile.
Dudley stopped eating long enough to ask, "Who were they?"
"Just some older Slytherins." Dean dug a hand into one of his pockets. "Death Eaters in training, the lot of them." He slapped four vials onto the table. After repocketing the empty one, he said, "Those arses are always accusing muggleborn of doing things we've never done. What say you that we actually do it now and then."
"What are we going to do?" Dudley asked.
"You are going to drink your potion," Dean said. "You too, Rosie and Eva."
"I don't wanna." Eva said still focused on her sundae.
"Drink your potion," Dean said in a tone that brooked no argument.
Eva gave him a dirty look, but took the vial he handed her.
"How can something taste blue?" Rosie asked tilting her head back finishing her portion.
"Magic," Dean said.
"It was good," Eva admitted. "But the ice cream is better."
"She's right," Dudley said, attacking the bowl in front of him only to stop with the delicacy half way to his mouth as Dean continued to glare at him. "What?" He plopped his spoon in the half-eaten bowl. "I came, didn't I."
"If you break another promise, I will break your spine," Dean told him bluntly.
"I never made no promise to you," Dudley snarled. "You freak."
"You're the freak," Dean growled back. "And we both know those aren't the promises I was talking about."
"Sod off," Dudley said, getting to his feet. "This was a mistake."
"Good riddance," Dean muttered, taking the coin purse out of his pocket. Reaching in he took out a handful of coins and a small gem. "Fat arse," he growled, causing Dudley to turn around as he walked away.
"Listen here . . ." Dudley started, only to be interrupted by a heavy purse full of gold hitting him center chest, forcing him to step back and catch it clumsily.
"You're going to need that," Dean said.
Looking dumbly at the bag, Dudley frowned. "You're still going to help?"
"Wipe the ice cream off your face." Dean sneered. "And don't look so surprised. I was reminded repeatedly that it isn't my decision."
Dudley studied the bag in his hands, looked at Dean, then turned and walked away without another word.
"That was very rude." Eva berated her older brother.
"He deserves it," Dean told her.
"No, he didn't," Eva scolded him. "He seems nice."
"It's true, there really is no accounting for taste." Dean ran a hand through his hair. "Finish your ice cream."
Rosie and Eva were chattering excitedly when Dean led them into the second-hand store. "Hello dears," an old witch sitting on a stool behind the counter said. "Come to browse my wares have ye?"
"Hello." All three chirped in response.
"Could you show my sisters your collection of stuffed animals." Dean asked with a smile. "I hear good things about them."
"Ah, my reputation precedes me." The witch smiled. "I'd be happy to."
"Go on." Dean told his sisters.
The girls gleefully complied, hopping up to the counter. After watching them go, Dean began wandering amongst the shelves, looking at the odds and ends that other people had grown tired of. It wasn't long before he found what he was looking for. He wasn't sure what it was exactly, but it was unmistakably what he had been searching for. Glancing over his shoulder, he confirmed that the store owner was engrossed in showing the girls her toys. Then, he reached toward the object and broke off a small rune-covered piece of it. He could almost feel it hum as he pulled his hand away.
His task done, he smiled grimly to himself, before joining his sisters at the counter. It was quite a sight and the girls were happily clapping their hands as an assortment of fuzzy toys danced on the flat surface to the beat of some childish music, that he couldn't find the source of.
"Do you like them?" Dean asked leaning closer to inspect the performance.
"Yes!" Rosie bounced excitedly as Eva nodded her head enthusiastically.
"Which is your favorite?" Dean prodded.
"I love the white puppy with black spots." Rosie pointed at her choice.
"That's a dalmatian." The witch supplied helpfully
"I like the pink elephant." Eva said.
Dean smiled at the store owner. "We'll take them."
"Shall I wrap them up?" the witch asked.
"No, that's not necessary." Dean said before inspecting the toys again. "You charmed them yourself, didn't you?"
"Aye. I did."
"I've heard that you've been known to enchant replacement limbs. Like legs." Dean stated.
"You're a well-informed lad." The witch eyed him. "What I make is nothing on what you can get at St. Mungo's, but not everyone can afford their prices."
"And they don't sell to muggles." Dean added, placing coins and a gem on the counter.
"Here now." The witch startled at the amount. "That is much too much for them stuffed toys."
Dean shrugged. "Not everyone can afford the limbs you make, either. That hasn't stopped you from helping them."
The witch looked Dean in the eyes. "Once or twice," she admitted.
"Consider this payment for those you will help in the future." Dean said. "Come on, girls, let's go."
The witch glance down again. "That stone has to be worth more than most make in a year," she stated.
"And now it's yours," Dean said. "Come on, girls."
They were almost out the door when three boys sauntered in, pushing the younger children out of their way.
"Rude." Eva narrowed her eyes, recognizing them from the ice cream parlor.
"Shut up, brat." One of them sneered. "You don't belong here."
"I'll not have you treating my customers that way." The witch behind the counter said. "If that's how you're going to act . . ." She stopped when she saw Dean shake his head, and mouth the words 'It's all right'. She sighed and fixed the older boys with a hairy eyeball, "Learn some manners." She suggested.
"I'll save my manners for those who are worthy of them." The lead boy sneered, dismissing Dean and his sisters out of hand.
"Come on," Dean said again, herding his siblings from the building.
They hadn't gone that far before Eva asked, "What did he mean, we don't belong here?"
"Don't fret, he doesn't know what he's talking about," Dean said. "There are some people who aren't worth the air you breathe. All three of those jerks fall into that category."
"They were mean," Rosie agreed.
"Yes . . ." Dean started, but whatever he was about to add was cut off as a small explosion emitted from the shop, they had just left followed by a puff of purple smoke wafting out of the still open door.
Rosie and Eva stared while Dean didn't bother to turn around.
"What was that?" Eva demanded.
"Misdirection," Dean said softly.
"What?" Eva swiveled her head to look at him.
"Nothing." Dean corrected himself. "Just proof that Hermione is one scary witch when she puts her mind to it."
After exiting the bank, it took Mrs. Wilison fifteen frustrating minutes to hunt down her children. Apparently, she had spent too much time in the vault, and the children had long since finished their treat. Not that she didn't have a good excuse . . . well an understandable reason for taking so long. She had lost track of time; it wasn't true that she went all Scrooge McDuck on the piles of gold. After all, coins did not move with the consistency of water and the money was Dean's as far as she was concerned. No, what had caught her attention were the non-monetary items. Unfortunately, the inventory didn't go as planned and the trip had been an exercise in frustration. There had been trunks she could not open due to lacking both magic and owing to the fact that she was related by marriage, not blood. This minor insult was compounded by the existence of a big book tucked away in the back of the chamber. Not only would it not open for her; she got the distinct impression that it had been laughing at her when she tried. She left it alone after Ringknife identified it as the family grimoire. He informed her that it contained spells, secrets of Dean's ancestors, specifically the family magic. Including some spells that the last dark lord had wanted so badly that he had murdered her husband when the magics were denied him. Those spells were Dean's most valuable legacy.
If the truth were told, it was the pieces of antique furniture, that had grabbed her attention. Heavy wooden works of art that were perfectly preserved and just waiting to be welcomed into someone's home. There had been a bed that she was positive was worth more than her dining room, kitchen and living room sets combined. Mrs. Wilson felt that it might be somewhat unethical not to leave that for Dean, but come hell or high water, that masterpiece would be gracing her bedroom. Her son would just have to claim it after she had gotten her use out of it.
The net result was that she spent more time underground than she had planned. Leaving her children to have their fill of shopping. That she may have taken it to far was made obvious by the way Rosie was holding on to her brother when they exited the wizarding shopping district through the pub. On the other hand, Eva was skipping around the rest of her family, forcing Mrs. Wilison to call a halt to the behavior if only for the sake of her nerves.
"Eva! Settle down dear. We've all had a long day."
"Aw, Mum."
"You know the rules." Mrs. Wilison said in the tired way of mothers who have raised a point once too often. "When were on a busy sidewalk, like this, you need to hold onto someone's hand."
"Mum, I'm eleven. Besides we haven't even left the sight of the pub yet." Eva protested. "See, it's right there."
"That doesn't matter." Mrs. Wilison said firmly. "Dean, hold her hand so she doesn't get lost."
"Okay Mum." Dean reached out taking his other sister's hand, ready and willing to play the big brother.
"Let's go home." Mrs. Wilison commanded, leading her children to the spot where they had parked their car.
