34 years ago
"You will behave yourself, yes? This is important, Antosha." Her son nodded tiredly, trudging along on the muddy, gloomy pathway.
Irina had been struggling to find a steady popsition for years. They'd moved twice since Antonin was born, from Edinburgh to Liverpool, and finally to London, where she'd had a bit more luck finding employment. Few people were willing to hire someone with a child, even less so a Russian immigrant, given the current political context. Irina had dreamed of taking up studies, so that she could find a better position, eventually, but it was far too expensive; she couldn't even afford a babysitter for her son.
Antonin would be six in a few months; he was a sweet child, full of energy and highly intelligent. She supposed that most mothers thought their children intelligent, but Antonin could already read and write, and his English was much better than hers. Of course, English was the only language he knew. Irina had decided against teaching him Russian, so as not to confuse him. It would make his life easier, if he spoke like a native of this country. Even his name was not Russian in origin, although she had named him after her father, Anton.
She'd found a few jobs here and there, earning just enough to live by, but this was a tremendous opportunity. As a person with no magical talents, unlike her son, Irina would never have spotted the job advertisement, but Antonin had picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet while she was doing the laundry, and he had found the page with the ads and read it aloud to her. She couldn't see it herself, for the newspaper was enchanted to appear blank to Muggles, as the wizards called people like her, but there was an address, and even a phone number – odd, considering that they were advertising in a magical newspaper. It was a long way, far up north, in the Highlands of Scotland, but the employer had specified that priority would be given to women with young children.
Irina had called and received a positive answer, with a request that she present herself at the employer's house as soon as possible, so she had scraped together all the money she had left and gotten them both train tickets. She couldn't afford a taxi, so they had walked the rest of the way – three hours on foot, in the cold February rain. It was almost 8 in the evening by the time they'd caught sight of the front gate. The manor house loomed in the distance, a magnificent, well-kept structure so large that it could probably house fifty people. Irina wondered if she would be able to be a housekeeper for so many people. So far, she had only obtained cleaning jobs. She had no real experience as a housekeeper, at least not in a British household. The few potential employers she had met had deemed her accent too pronounced, or they had refused her because of Antonin.
Despite the late hour, she had sounded the bell – they had nowhere else to go, and Antonin was shivering with cold, though he'd never complained once on the way from the station. Irina hoped that it wouldn't give her future employer a bad first impression. Antonin yawned, but he was still lucid enough to cover his mouth when he did.
Two minutes later, a strange creature met them at the gate. It was of a size with her son, and quite ugly, with bulging eyes. It was wearing a simple cloth around the waist. Irina put a protective arm around Antonin, who stood gaping at the odd little being. The gate opened without any prompting.
"Mrs Dolohov?" the creature asked politely, bowing low. Technically, her name was Irina Antonovna Dolohova, but she had put all of that behind her when she'd landed in the United Kingdom. It was too complicated for foreigners. Now, she was just Irina Dolohov.
"Miss," she corrected it briskly. "I am sorry to call this late, but it was a long walk from the station."
"Walk?" the creature repeated, frowning. "The mistress said nothing of it. I'm certain that the master would have come to meet you at the station with the car, if you had mentioned it on the phone."
Even if she had known that her employer had a chauffeur, Irina would never have asked for a ride. She disliked asking anyone for help. It felt too much like begging. Besides, how would it have looked? She didn't want to appear lazy.
"Is this all your luggage?" it went on.
They had only one suitcase. They did not own much. Irina nodded curtly, and the little being stepped forward to take it. She clutched it tightly. "I will carry it, thank you," she said firmly.
The creature looked confused, but at length it bowed again. "As you wish, Miss." He gestured toward the house. "If you will follow me?"
As Irina stepped through the gate, she noticed that it wasn't raining inside the vast estate. She held back a shudder. Magic did not frighten her, but she was wary of it. That these people would dare to mess with the weather itself… It felt wrong.
It was another five minutes before they reached the staircase that led to the front entrance. It truly was a large propriety; there seemed to be woods behind the main building, and the…garden spanned too far on either side of her to make out its borders in the gloom. Irina wondered how many gardeners they must have, to keep it all so well-maintained. There was a marble fountain near the staircase, bathed in a soft glow that came from no appliance that Irina could see. It represented a beautiful maiden, apparently clothed in waves. Antonin, curious as ever, his fatigue forgotten as he approached the water, started when tiny, colourful fishes sprang from the fountain.
"Antosha, stay close to me," Irina said, grabbing his hand. Until she knew exactly what the creature was, she would rather that her son remained by her side.
They ascended the stairs and found themselves facing a carved wooden door. The entrance was illuminated, like the fountain, by no visible device. The carvings represented mythical animals, as far as Irina could make out. There was something that looked like a dragon, and possibly a unicorn. The door opened seemingly on its own accord, and the little creature ushered them inside.
An enormous chandelier gave off a bright light in the hall. Their guide led them to the right, into what appeared to be the living room. There, a pale, frail-looking woman with brittle auburn hair sat reading a book in a leather chair. She didn't notice the newcomers right away, absorbed in her reading as she was. The creature cleared its throat, and the young woman turned her head toward the sound. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of Irina and Antonin.
"Miss Dolohov!" she exclaimed, rising from her seat after carefully setting a bookmark inside her book. "We didn't know to expect you today. I had assumed you would need more time to settle your affairs in London."
"There wasn't much to settle," Irina replied briefly. "I'm terribly sorry to bother you so late, Mrs Macnair. I didn't think it would be so far from the station."
"Oh, did the taxi get lost? It happens, sometimes. We're well-hidden, here in the woods, and few people come this way," the lady of the house said apologetically.
"We didn't have money for the taxi," Antonin blurted out. "We walked all the way. It's very pretty around here." Irina stared at him in horror. It wasn't like him to speak out of turn; he must be quite tired indeed.
"You walked all the way from the station?" Mrs Macnair repeated in a strangled voice.
Irina turned to her, blushing in embarrassment. "I apologise, Mrs Macnair. I'm afraid my son is weary from the journey. Please excuse him."
"Oh no, no, I'm sorry. I had no idea. You should have said! We would have come to pick you up at the station." She indicated the couch. "Please, sit down. Caraid, will you make us some tea and fetch some blankets for our guests?" She seemed to be addressing the creature. Mrs Macnair regarded Antonin with a sweet smile. "Or would you prefer something else? Apple juice, hot cocoa-"
Antonin revived at this. "Cocoa!" Then he flinched, glanced at Irina, and added hastily, "please, Mrs Macnair. Thank you." Irina nodded approvingly.
Mrs Macnair laughed softly. "Tea and hot cocoa, then, please, Caraid," she instructed the creature. It bowed deeply and departed.
They all took a seat in the cosy room. It was tastefully decorated; Irina had expected a much more old-fashioned décor, admittedly. These old manor houses usually looked like museums.
"What is your name, dear?" Mrs Macnair asked Antonin.
"I'm Antonin," he replied politely. "I'm almost six," he added, keenly anticipating the next question.
"What a pleasant coincidence!" Mrs Macnair said delightedly. "My son will be six soon. I hope you will be good friends. He doesn't have much company, I'm afraid," she went on, addressing Irina. "It's only the four of us here, and Caraid is hardly suited to play with little children – although he tries his best, I'm certain." She put a hand over her mouth, as if suddenly realising something. "Oh, but you must have been so surprised at seeing him! I'm terribly sorry. You mentioned being a Muggle, with little knowledge of the wizarding world." She raised her hands in a reassuring gesture when Irina made a face. "Do not worry about it. I wouldn't have you come all the way up here if it were a problem. Caraid is our house elf," she explained. "He has served my husband's family for six generations. You are perfectly safe around him; his kind is known to be meek and pacifist."
"I see," Irina said. It wasn't much information, but it would have to do for now.
"My husband is working in the garage," Mrs Macnair went on, glancing at the grandfather clock. "He will join us shortly, to tuck Walden in. My son," she clarified. "He's in the conservatory, studying glow-worms, like as not." She chuckled softly. "He is fascinated by all creatures, big or small, magical or not. He spends most of his time outside, regardless of the weather. We used to take long walks in the woods, he and I, but I'm afraid my…condition does not permit me that sort of activities nowadays," she said sadly.
Mrs Macnair had not specified what ailed her, but over the phone she had explained that it was incurable, and that it was the main reason why they needed a governess. She had implied that she had someone to take care of the house and garden – this…house elf creature, presumably, although Irina had expected that is was in fact the job of several people – but she wanted someone to look after Walden, and to assist her in her daily routine. As Irina would soon realise, Mrs Macnair needed more assistance than she had let on. Indeed, even getting out of bed was becoming increasingly difficult for her.
She had requested someone with children because she feared that her son was too lonely; as most young wizards of Pure-blood lineage, he was home-schooled, and there were no other children his age in the village nearby. Moreover, their only living kin was Mr Macnair's mother. She lived in a retirement home, not being quite herself most days. Apparently, it was a polite way of saying that she was utterly senile. Mrs Macnair, an only child, had been orphaned very young, and Mr Macnair had lost his two brothers and his sister during the Great Plague of dragon pox, in the late thirties. His father had passed away just before Walden was born.
The house elf was back with their refreshments. Before it floated a large tray with two pots, three cups, and an assortment of biscuits. Antonin grabbed three of those and gulped down his hot cocoa as soon as it had cooled down enough, despite Irina's reproachful gaze.
Mrs Macnair smiled. "I'm sure you must be exhausted, after such an expedition in the cold rain. Antonin, why don't you go find my son, Walden, so that he can show you where you'll sleep? He's in the room to your right when you go out of the salon, at the end of the corridor."
Antonin looked at his mother for permission to leave, and Irina nodded. He went off at a run. It amazed her sometimes, all that energy.
"I hope you don't mind if they share a room," Mrs Macnair said, biting her lower lip. "It's not for lack of space, you understand, but I thought it'd be good for Walden, and hopefully for Antonin as well."
Well, Irina would have preferred to be consulted, but she would allow it – unless Mrs Macnair's son proved to be a bad influence on Antonin, of course. On the other hand, it seemed that it had already been decided that Irina had the job, and that they were welcome to stay. There hadn't even been a proper interview, but Irina wasn't about to complain.
"I have arranged for you to sleep in the room next to ours, Miss Dolohov. I sometimes wake up during the night, from the pain, and I prefer not to disturb my husband's rest – as an Auror, he often works late – so there is a bell for me to call you if I am in need. I hope that this is alright with you. I hate to be a bother, but I have difficulty moving about, especially at night, after the effects of the medication wear off…"
"That is quite alright." Irina was no nurse, but she had been assured that all medical – or magical – treatment would be performed by qualified personnel. There was very little of that, though, Mrs Macnair explained matter-of-factly. She had to take several pain-relieving draughts every day, but that was all that could be done for her at this point.
What a pity, Irina thought. She's so young. Well, she couldn't cure Mrs Macnair, but she could make certain that her final days were as pleasant as possible.
Antonin paused in front of the glass-covered little house – even the door was transparent. He had never seen anything quite like it. Even from where he stood, he could see the starry night sky. Of course, now that they were cosy and warm inside the impossibly gigantic building, the rain had finally stopped pouring, and the clouds had dispersed.
There was another little boy inside the glass house. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, gazing fixedly at something Antonin couldn't distinguish from his vantage. Taking a deep breath to give himself some courage, he pushed the door open.
The other kid didn't turn as he stepped inside, so Antonin walked up to him quietly, so as not to disturb him. When he paused a few feet away, the boy glanced at him.
"Hi," he said, a bit awkwardly. "I'm Antonin. I'm almost six." Whenever he was introduced to someone, they always asked for his age at one point or another in the conversation, so he had taken the habit of giving it away with his name. It was more practical that way. "You're…Walden?" The name was unfamiliar to him. He hoped he'd gotten the pronunciation right.
The boy was frowning slightly, but he nodded after a moment, before returning his attention to… Antonin's eyes opened wide, and he gaped slightly.
There was a lizard on the wall, a thick, horned beast as long as his arm, and it glowed, as though it'd swallowed a torch.
"What is it?" he asked, wonder in his voice. The house elf had been intriguing enough, but this was something else entirely.
"Subluceo Draconis," Walden replied. He spoke in a very low voice, and he had a thick accent, but that didn't bother Antonin. Mr Argyle, their former neighbour back in London, who sometimes watched over Antonin when his mum had to work, had the same accent, and Antonin had become good at puzzling it out. He did not, however, understand the words. They didn't sound like English at all.
"A glowing dragon," Walden clarified. "They're the same genus as the salamander."
"It's a dragon?" Antonin repeated incredulously.
"Uh-huh. You better not touch it, though. It would give you a rash." He pulled up his sleeve and revealed a red patch on his arm. "It doesn't hurt, but it itches like crazy." He proceeded to scratch the rash as he said the words.
"I thought dragons would be bigger than that," Antonin remarked, feeling somewhat disappointed.
"There are many species of dragons," Walden explained patiently. "This one is rather small, but the Hebridean Black can grow up to 30 feet and carry off cattle."
"Damn," Antonin said. He blushed when he realised what he'd said, glancing toward the glass door, half-expecting his mother to come barging in to reprimand him. "Sorry," he muttered, eyes downcast.
Walden shrugged. "My dad cusses all the time. Are you with the new governess?" he asked after a moment of consideration.
"Yeah. I mean, yes," Antonin said. "Ma says we're going to stay here a while. She says she has to look after you and your mum because she's sick."
Walden nodded gravely but made no reply.
"So, um, can we be friends?" Antonin asked timidly.
"Friends?" Walden was frowning again.
"Well, we're going to see each other a lot, so I thought…" Antonin trailed off, unsure what to say. He'd never seen a boy look as serious as Walden did at that moment.
"If you're going to live here and sleep in my room, we won't be just friends," Walden said matter-of-factly. "We'll be brothers."