Chapter 5. We often forget the darkest places we have been
Miss Scamander:
I am not interested, do not approach my employees on the subject any further.
The Black Daffodil Potioner.
Whoever this person was, Juliette didn't like them. She crumpled the parchment into a ball before tossing it across the room, snorting, and then propping her feet up on the table before resting her head on the floor.
She was running out of ideas. Perhaps that was why she had resorted to a lengthy letter, requesting that they kindly fuck off, to whoever was supposed to be able to help her.
Clearly she hadn't sent it, nor did she intend to.
The woman had begun to search her books for some way to separate the poison from the blood, perhaps some spell in her medical books, yet she was unable to find anything.
Jules was a person of action. Sitting still in such a stressful situation did not suit her.
She sent a note to Potter and the Minister, explaining her theory a little and saying that she hadn't found anyone on her own. Also, she wrote to Rolf, commenting on how Tallie seemed to have settled in after a few hours at the Jarvey's.
After all that the witch was tired.
Jules's eyelids feel heavy and for just a moment, just a moment, she thought about closing her eyes.
Maybe that hadn't been a good idea.
All that. England and the memories.
Time after time all she could do was wait, for someone to agree, for someone to nod, for someone to attack.
"What do I have to do?"
Jules had weighed the idea of ending it all more than once. Because she was tired.
Too tired.
Maybe she should cry. Maybe if she burst and was cathartic, the emptiness would go away for a moment at least, to think clearly, so she could focus on what was the right thing to do.
Why did the world keep moving and she couldn't?
She decided to read Christine's letter one more time. It had been left with the others, on the dining room table, although after having read it so many times the paper was a little crumpled.
The handwriting was thick and confused, characteristic of a ten-year-old girl. Jules sometimes had the instinct to save every scrap of paper from her younger sister as she had done after the war, when all that came back were stick drawings and bright colours rather than letters.
Just until she grows up, she told herself, just pretend until then.
Rolf and Grandma Tina had also written to her in the previous days. All good news, Rolf was having Christie for the weekend, and invited Jules to join them on Saturday afternoon to visit Muggle London; Tina had sent her usual weekly letter, saying succinctly that she was expecting her on Sunday in Dorset.
Jules took the letter from her grandmother as well, pulling it out of the envelope and running her fingers along the line.
Porpentina Scamander had written her granddaughter a lengthy letter, telling her all the news from Dorset and devoting a good portion of it to an update on Mauler -the Kneazle- 's condition. Sentence after sentence, Jules consumed the letters viciously until they ran out, and then decided to read them again.
All good things.
And whoever that potioner was had ruined her mood.
She saw Thorfinn materialise on the coffee table and emit a sound from his throat. Apparently it was time for lunch, or a snack. The demiguise moved to where Jules was, walking around her and then hopping up onto the couch.
Jules was going to have to get an assistant, soon, because she felt like she was neglecting the animals and it made her sick; but before that she was going to have to adapt the flat a bit.
Could she extend the cupboard to put the habitats in there?
Not sure the tenant would agree to that.
She used the remainder of the afternoon to make up with the creatures, getting into the suitcase and making an extra long round. The long cut she had originally encountered the occamy with was wearing off, by her calculations within a few weeks she would already have to contact the sanctuary. That was the sad part, having to let a huge number of animals go. But it also represented a small progress in magical society, instead of being hunted they were given a habitat in which they could live in peace.
Jules was a little disgruntled about it.
She tossed her honey hair back, and focused her blue eyes directly on the smallest of the litter of ocammies. The scaly fur was just finishing forming to perfection, the colour being a bit more greenish than its mother's.
"We're growing strong, aren't we?" The creature curled in on itself in Juliette's palm.
After finishing feeding them and putting some of the sticky, yellow medicine on the wound of the older occamy, Jules decided to make some progress with her paper on the Augureys. The family living in the suitcase was usually hidden in their nests among a thicket of hawthorn bushes.
She had always been mildly fascinated with those birds in particular, by the melancholy song when it was about to rain. However Juliette was all her life aware of the chills that fact gave her mother, who was not the biggest fan of the creature.
She raised her wand, the weather changed and slowly grey clouds began to form over the great Augurey nest.
It was impossible not to remember her mother, crouched beside her as Jules watched one of the birds in her nest. The woman was moving the wet hair from her face and trying to draw her in, but the girl of no more than five or six was entranced by the creature.
"Do you like them?" She had asked and Juliette nodded. "They are your grandmother's favourite, a shadowy creature."
Juliette at the time had not understood the significance of those words and what they hid behind them, thinking that her mother was talking about grandmother Tina. However she also remembered Porpentina's face when she asked her about it the next time she saw her, and how the woman's only reply was, "All birds are pretty, but those make me feel a little sad. Don't they make you feel a little sad?"
It took Jules years to understand that Jara had told her about her own mother.
Now every time she saw the Augureys Juliette thought of evil parents and sadness came over her.
The cry filled her ears, seconds before the clouds formed by her magic began to pour water in the form of rain and the birds rushed out of hiding. The chirping, soft and melancholy, forced her to sit on the floor as if she were a five-year-old again.
She had to throw a spell on herself, severe minutes later, to dry herself completely and get back to work. The murtlap and knarl seemed to have gotten into a fight, and the first of the two was covered in quills, baring its teeth at Jules when she was willing to pull them out.
The witch had to heal the murtlap, closing its mouth so it wouldn't attack her with its teeth and pulling out all the quills before curing it with a mixture of healing spells and one of the animal-specific potions.
The knarl had come out of the fight mostly unscathed, with only a few cuts from the murtlap's teeth, scratches that Jules healed with a non-verbal spell. She had to move around the other habitats to separate the creatures so they wouldn't fight each other again. She brought up to the flat some of the larger things, pictures and photographs she had brought with her.
Vases she had taken from the family home in New York. She also left one of the empty owl cages in the flat in case Buttercup preferred to stay at some point.
By eleven o'clock at night as soon as she got out of the shower she had warmed up a bowl of soup and put everything away for bed after watering the plants. She could hear noise from the balcony next door, and when she came out she found Pansy and Daphne sitting at a small table, who at the slightest noise focused their attention on Jules and her watering can.
Aodh, who tended to like women better than men, poked his head through the doors to look at them.
"Are you really gardening at this hour?"
Juliette nodded towards Pansy. It looked as if the girls were going to party or go out somewhere, even though they were both sitting placidly with glasses of wine. Jules caught the glint of sequins on the black-haired girl's skirt out of the corner of her eye.
The weather was rather humid that day, and Jules realised that she should have dried her hair before going out because she could feel it puffing up a little with each passing second. The next day she was going to have to use a potion to get it styled as usual.
"Long day, and it's best to water the plants at night."
"Is it a crup?"
Daphne was looking interestedly at Aodh, who to unfamiliar eyes strutted out onto the balcony, showing off like a circus animal. Jules laughed a little at the attitude.
"A bulgae. It's a creature native to Asia, most of them are in Korea."
The blonde witch rose from her seat to approach the partition between the two balconies. She wore a dark grey dress with chiffon sleeves that hung down, and her hair was arranged in a high bun with a few strands hanging carelessly out of her hairdo. Jules didn't miss the way Pansy looked quietly at her friend.
"Can I touch him? It doesn't bite, does it?"
Aodh approached her, not waiting for Juliette to give her any indication, and sat down politely to encourage her to pet him.
"Aodh, friend," Jules said simply, to which the creature waved its front paw impatiently. "First bring your hand closer so he can sniff, but if he's already there, you can pet him."
Aodh sniffed Daphne's hand a little before the woman turned her palm over and scratched his head.
"How many other creatures do you have?"
"Many, but only Aodh," she pointed to the bulgae with the watering can still in her hand, "and my demiguise are loose. Are you going out?"
"I wish," said Pansy. "All dressed up and nowhere to go, so we're going to get drunk."
The woman raised her glass in the air in a toast before downing what was left in one gulp. The action made Daphne laugh, and Jules feel slightly uncomfortable. She combed her hair with her fingers, to calm herself a little, and set the watering can down next to the chamomile plant.
Aodh tired of the caresses and retired to sleep in a matter of minutes, strange creature that he was.
"Would you like a drink?" Daphne shook her hands out of her skirt and smiled at Juliette. "I have white wine if you don't like red."
"I shouldn't, I have to work tomorrow."
"A glass of this will make you sleep like a baby," said Pansy, who was already pouring a third glass and refilling her own. "Tomorrow you'll be as fresh as a daisy. Come over.
"Come in?"
"Yes, jump over the rail. Phe, give her a hand."
Against every good idea in her head Jules decided to obey, and not just because Pansy was clearly demanding. First she closed the balcony door and then she went from one to the other by climbing over the railing and swinging her legs over the other side.
"All right, Juliette. Cheers," Pansy raised her glass, passing the other to her, and Jules took it to clink one against the other and then against Daphne's, then sipped. "So tell us, what brought you to England?"
"My family lives here," Daphne levitated an extra chair, but Jules decided to lean against the railing and take another sip for courage. "I'm doing some research on the Augureys, and I decided to come here to consult with my grandfather."
"Is he a magizoologist too?"
Juliette nodded at Daphne's question. She felt a little ridiculous in her pink flannel pyjamas, compared to how dressed up the other two women were.
"What do you two do for a living? If it's not intrusive."
"Pans is a designer, though she's now temporarily at Twilfit & Tattings. I'm working at a friend's company."
"The clothes there are decent, and Mrs Twilfit at least lets me wait on whoever I want," said Pansy as an addendum. "You should come in for a day, the last season has some pretty nice things in it."
"If my mother hasn't taken everything already," said Daphne, taking a sip. "She loves to drag me and Astoria there every chance she gets."
Astoria's name sounded familiar to Juliette, but she decided not to say anything as Pansy and Daphne began to debate which person bought the most. The choices seemed limited to Daphne's mother, Pansy herself, someone called Narcissa and someone whose name Jules didn't catch.
One drink became two.
"Pansy wouldn't last a day at her father's company, that's why she doesn't work there."
"I admit that's true. And we're not talking about Daphne's attempt to be a healer."
"I would have been good at it," she defended herself, "but it wasn't my thing."
"She came crying to my house on the second day of practice."
"The theory is fun, but the bones out of place?" Jules saw her wince. "I don't know how Theo can do it."
"It' s normal when you don't know anything about it," Juliette said. "When I was little I wanted to have a dragon hatchery, when they told me that if I had that I was supposed to kill them at some point they lost me. I cried for weeks."
"Do you have to kill them at some point?"
"Apparently. Or maybe my parents didn't like the idea of dragons."
Daphne leaned over to Pansy. "Imagine if your son came to you and said, 'I want to go run around with dangerous dragons,' I'd die of anguish."
"Imagine having a son. That would kill me with anguish."
Jules almost spat out her wine at the black-haired girl's comment, then burst out laughing.
"Don't let your mother hear you."
"She's done it so many times before. They didn't have Elio last year for nothing."
"You had a brother last year?" Jules was amazed.
"It's crazy, isn't it?" Pansy seemed glad that someone had agreed with her with that question. "I almost had a heart attack when I found out, I don't know what my mother was thinking".
"Children are cute. "
"Mmhh... it's relative. Children when they shuffle things around? It's a stage I'd avoid at all costs," said Jules, on the third glass. She sat down next to the women at the table. There was a blanket of stars in the sky, probably artificial because London's light pollution usually didn't allow such a lot to be seen.
"He still doesn't shuffle things around, but he's crying all the time and it's a very strong thing."
"I like Elio," Daphne finally said. The third bottle of wine of the night appeared.
Jules looked at the label on the bottle, the seal stuck out and from the look of it only she could tell it was expensive. A dark green logo with an M engraved in the middle, and small letters that late into the night she was unable to read.
"Juliette. Juliette."
Juliette opened her blue eyes lazily, feeling her face pressed against something soft. She had to blink severely to focus her eyes on an object or face that was close to her. Daphne was touching her with her finger, as if Jules had some disease and moving her could spread it.
"What time is it? "She looked at her watch automatically, like a knee-jerk reaction. It was a habit. However, the sunlight streaming through the window told her clearly that this was the first day in months that she'd woken up after seven.
Then she nearly fell off the couch she was on when she realised that it was eight fifty-seven in the morning, which meant she would barely have time to feed the animals quickly before changing and leaving. Jules Scamander rushed forward, cursing in mumbles.
"For Merlin's sake, don't make so much noise."
They had fallen asleep in the living room of Daphne's flat. The almost-finished bottle of wine sat on the coffee table, a glass beauty that had a whole work of art painted on it, what looked like bouquets of green leaves and flowers that Jules didn't recognise at all. Juliette's blue eyes wandered to the woman who had spoken.
Pansy was in the armchair opposite, her blouse off, a black bralette standing out against her off-white skin and her sequined skirt higher than it should have been. She looked quite whole, though she pulled her arm up over her eyes to shield herself from the light.
"I have to go," Jules said, her voice hoarse with sleep. Her head was practically pounding. Daphne had changed and was in what looked like designer pyjamas, blonde hair down, plus she looked much more sober than Juliette remembered a few hours ago.
Since she had composed herself so quickly it was a good question.
"Don't you want coffee? "
"I have to feed the animals and meet someone. Thanks for the evening."
"Anytime."
"See you, Pansy, Daphne." Jules said goodbye before leaving. The first only raised her arm for a second and the other waved her off at the door.
She fed the animals in record time, superficially checking the wounds of the occamy and the others, applying spells precisely and finally getting out of the suitcase to take a shower. She made sure to leave Thorfinn with the others, so he wouldn't follow her as he usually did.
She felt light and heavy at the same time.
She couldn't remember exactly the last time she had drunk this much, maybe with Stephanie in December, before the holidays.
A note was made in her mind to write to her friend when she returned in the evening. Perhaps she should also write to Anthony Goldstein to tell him she was in London.
Over the years Jules had left a lot of people behind, and had not been aware of all the unfinished business that had fallen by the wayside.
And she was going to be late for lunch if she kept it up.
At the Leaky Cauldron people paid little attention to her. She gave Tom the password and he told her the room number where her siblings were staying. That was another thing she disliked about England, the secrecy, in the more open districts of America they had used it, but now that it was necessary she found it obnoxious.
She knocked with three short knocks on the door of room 23.
Rolf opened it in a matter of seconds, the raised wand rested against Jules' forehead and she automatically spoke the password they had started using last year.
"You've been jealous of my good looks since the fourth grade." Rolf let her pass, tossing his blonde hair back with his fingers and putting his wand away.
"Jules!" Christine rushed toward her. Her chocolate hair was shorter than last time, and she caught her older sister in a smothering hug. "We're going to see Spirit today, they're going to show it at the cinema again."
The girl was a non-maj movie buff, which seemed good enough to keep her out of the eyes of magical society. At the age of ten, almost eleven, Chris had dressed up every animated film released on the big screen, and collected as many on VHS as she could get her hands on.
Jules couldn't help but remember Christie as a four and five year old, which broke her heart. It was strange to see how everyone continued to move on while she seemed to cling to the past and all that had happened.
"Oh, that's great! Have you had lunch yet?"
"No, Rolf said we were going to do it when you came. I can't believe you moved in! When do I get to see your flat?"
"One of these days, I promise... Sleepover party included, do you like the idea?"
"Yes!"
"All right. Why don't you get your things so we can eat downstairs? And show me your new glasses, Luna told me you liked them."
Luna had recently given her a pair of extravagant glasses, but Jules hadn't seen them live and she was looking forward to it. Besides, Christine liked compliments, and showing off.
"Julie" Rolf called after her, pulling something out of his work bag. He looked tired. "How are you doing with the case?"
"I can't talk about it, moving forward. Ah, the talgoose seemed to be settling in well for the moment. Not too fond of jarvey, though."
"Here it is," he finally pulled a box out of his briefcase. "Here."
"What's this?"
"Another phone, try not to break it."
"I didn't mean to," Juliette defended herself. No-maj phones, small devices that facilitated communication, had been quite a useful thing because of the distance. Months ago, however, hers had ended up swimming with the water horses in the artificial lake in the suitcase.
He picked up the house carefully.
"Thank you."
"It's nothing. Christie, are you ready?"
The girl appeared with her cloak hiding her hair and huge decorated glasses that took up a good portion of her face, though rather than hiding it, they made her more conspicuous.
Jules put the box in her bag and smiled at Christine.
"I see you're as pretty as the one in the book now."
"I know, Mum said the same thing!"
One thing Juliette was never going to understand was Jara Scamander's reason for naming her daughters after tragic heroines of non-maj literature. Juliette had been named after Juliet Capulet, while the younger of the two was named after Christine Daaé.
Jules had never strictly liked reading, just enough if the book caught her. Yet she had never managed to open either of the two books her mother adored, knowing her own tragic ending.
They had seen the Phantom of the Opera play once, though. So Jules knew what was happening.
"Well, let's eat because I'm starving."
She didn't want to think about tragedies. Jules wanted to enjoy himself with her baby sister and forget about death for a while.