Chapter 8
"Where's Remus then?" Morwen asked Sirius as they sat down at the quiet end of the kitchen table.
The boisterous Weasley twins were creating havoc down the other end with Ginny and Hermione. Morwena had been quickly introduced when she had arrived and she had been rather curious about Harry's other best friend. The immediate interest in Morwen's work at Gringotts had been flattering as well.
"Oh he's patrolling with Tonks, they're checking Rookwood out," Sirius grinned wolfishly.
"Finally did something about that did you?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Had a whisper in old Moodys ear about the pairings, Tonks needs a sensible, calm sort like Remus you know?" Sirius puffed with pride and Morwen almost rolled her eyes, of course he'd think it was all his idea.
Morwen smiled instead and indulged him, "you've outdone yourself, they need a bit of alone time."
Sirius snorted, "not as if Moony will do much about it, you know what he's like."
"You're forgetting Tonks, she's a confident, persistent young woman. I have a feeling she'll get what she wants."
Sirius nodded, "let's hope. Anyway, I have a bit of news."
At that he reached back into the sideboard behind him, "I found these yesterday when Molly and the kids were starting on one of the spare guest rooms."
Sirius set a different photo album from the earlier one onto the table, "I've never seen it before, it's older than the other albums."
A hippogriff feather stuck out of the decrepit tome as a book mark, plumes of dust filtered up into the air as he opened to the page.
There was an old photograph, Black and white although clearly magical as its occupants moved. The bridegroom was a rather serious young man with enormous sideburns, his bride was a moody looking girl, albeit perched on his arm with a devious smile. Long, wild and dark hair draped over her shoulders revealing glimpses of a familiar necklace, it glinted malevolently even in the photograph.
"The marriage of Conan Yaxley to Calliope Black, the date's worn off the back," Sirius flipped the photograph over to show her the faded writing.
"Finally some reference of it," Morwen murmured.
"Not much help though is it?" Sirius sighed frustrated.
"Bill was saying that they think it was spell woven, we were wondering if it would be goblin," the dark haired bride smiled sultrily to someone in the corner of the photograph. Morwen followed her gaze to a blonde man who was watching the groom murderously from his position at the edge of the group.
"Upside it's either a Yaxley heirloom or a Black One."
Morwen touched the necklace on the photograph, "You haven't heard of it so a logical guess would be the Yaxleys? Also before I forget, if you see Kingsley, the goblins are in Austria. I can't think of the significance but I'm sure he will."
"Hopefully he's calling in soon, a day or two," Sirius stroked his moustache off thoughtfully, "Never thought I'd say it but I wish there was some family about to ask," He snorted.
"There's always Narcissa?" Morwen pondered, she wasn't particularly friendly with Mrs Malfoy. They neither liked nor loathed each other.
Sirius laughed, "have fun with that cold bitch."
"Another thing to keep up with at flints ball," she sighed rested her head in her arms.
"I'll look in the library properly this week as well, I've been helping Molly fix up the rooms," he looked to her apologetic.
"I'll come help at the weekend again," she promised.
"You've this ball to worry about," he shook his head when she protested, "I know you laugh about these things Morwen but you should be careful, they'll be watching everything you do."
"I'll still stop in, hopefully I'll get to meet Harry," smiling hopefully she nodded.
"You'll like him Morwen, he's good down to his bones that boy," Sirius grinned with pride.
The evening of Flint's soirée rolled around quickly and Morwen found herself apparating into the foyer of the family's house. The place was more like a castle, an old relic of mediaeval times, with a floor of great flagstones polished with age. A dominating fireplace roared in the corner, large enough for ten men to stand in with double doors stood open beside it. An ancient house elf held a long scroll and beckoned her over with a gnarled hand.
"Invitation?" Obliging, she handed it over and he read the embossed writing.
One long twisted finger tapped her name and he flicked to a line on the scroll which had lit up. With a nod he waved her through, announcing her name into the hall.
Striding through the doors she came face to face with Maximus Flint and his wife, who Morwen remembered as Agnes Bulstrode.
"Morwena, it's been a long time since we have seen you," Agnes smiled, revealing terrible teeth in what otherwise was a pretty face.
"Yes, I haven't been in the country long," Morwen nodded.
"Always an adventuress," Maximus laughed a little too loudly.
"I only wish I had the gall," Agnes drawled, "but going to all those uncivilised places alone. I can't imagine how you managed Morwena."
"Yes well, it's nice to be back," Morwen held her tongue, smiling sweetly before moving away for a decrepit couple to greet the Flint's.
Quickly the dark haired witch grabbed a glass of champagne that a liveried house elf offered on a tray. Without wanting to seem too obvious she glanced around the room looking for either Kingsley or Hestia. Instead she spotted Magnus Montague a couple of wizards away, she spun around silently swearing.
"Avoiding someone?" A smirking voice questioned over her shoulder.
"Hestia, thank Merlin. Someone worth talking too."
The blonde harrumphed, "you've only just arrived, don't think I didn't see you slink in. I've been polite for at least an hour, and on only one glass of champers."
"You poor dear," Morwen arched a brow, taking in Hestia with her tight cocktail dress. The pair had went to Malkins yesterday, the tailoress had produced the pink satin for the legal witch. Thankfully Morwen was given a midnight blue silk dress with lace trimming, it skimmed her figure but still hid a multitude of sins.
"Tell me Hestia," the dark witch muttered to her friend, "are you any kind of acquaintance with Narcissa Malfoy?"
Hestia grimaced into her champagne glass, "second cousins or some such, probably the same as you, why? What do you want with the ice queen?"
"Some work business, I need to filch for some information but it would be unseemly to bring it up here."
The blonde nodded as Morwen explained, "I'll get us an invitation for tea next week."
With that Hestia slipped away into the crowd and Morwen renewed her search for Kingsley.
Finally spotting the great bald headed man across the room Morwen began a calculated offensive across the room. However, the witch had only made it halfway when she was besieged by none other than Magnus Montague.
The tall wizard stopped her with a hand to her arm, "Morwena, how are you this evening?"
"Magnus," she sighed inwardly, "I'm well thank you, I wonder how you know the Flints?"
"Distant relations of course, but alas can you spare a dance later?"
"A dance," Morwena couldn't help be surprised, she'd thought she'd finally got old enough to be past this rubbish.
"Yes, I can't help but note your card is empty," he pointed to the little card the elf had magicked to her wrist on arrival.
"Well yes, I'm but an old maid, but if you insist…" she trailed off a little weakly at his insistent expression.
"An old maid, of course not? You must promise me the quadrille at least?" She nodded and tapped her card rather reluctantly. Montagues name revealed itself beside the quadrille.
"Until later than," smiling she excused herself.
Bee lining for Kingsley's side she caught his eye as she manoeuvred around everyone.
"Morwena, long time no see!" He lied in his booming voice.
"Kingsley, I heard you've been made head of the Auror office. Doing well?" She drew up beside his tall figure, resplendent in mauve.
"Yes, the promotion only came last year. I've been very lucky, and you're in Gringotts now? What would Uncle Izzy think?" He laughed loudly and waved to a sandy haired man in emerald robes.
"Hmm it's good he's no longer with us to berate me for working for goblins," chuckling inside at Kingsley she smiled at the gentleman who had reached their side.
"Always in charming company Kingsley, who is this then?" He shook the auror's hand before motioning to Morwen.
"Ah, Ezekiel this is Morwena Selwyn," the fair haired wizard grasped her hand with a nod.
"Ah Yes, Isiah Selwyn's niece?"
"She is indeed, Morwena this is Ezekiel Greengrass. I'm sure you remember him, you were only a little behind us at Hogwarts?" Kingsley enquired.
"Don't be daft Kingsley, Ms Selwyn is much younger than us. How are you keeping busy in England, I'm sure you find it all very boring?" Greengrass smiled charmingly, his eyes crinkled.
"I work for Gringotts now, the goblins do keep me busy."
"Ah, you must be clever to put up with Griphook most days. Well you should think about finding an occupier for the shop. I could recommend any number of interested parties."
"The goblins are surprisingly straight forward to work for," she admitted with a shrug, "but I suppose I shouldn't let a shop on Diagon Alley go empty, I haven't quite cleared the place out yet."
"Any number of people would be interested in the contents as well," he interjected quickly.
"I'm sure they would Mr Greengrass but I shan't be letting my Uncle's belonging's go so easily," she smiled, I'm sure he would love some of old Izzy's rather questionable objects.
"Of course not, but you should be wary of the lengths some would go to," he warned, not unkindly.
A familiar voice, deep with a gravel interrupted,
"Miss Selwyn, a pleasure to see you again," Burke appeared beside them smoothly, a fresh cologne washed over Morwen as he stood beside her.
Slyly he glanced at her sideways, making his greetings to Ezekiel Greengrass as he did so.
"Good evening Mr Burke," Morwen replied taking in the elegant cut of his violet waistcoat, worn beneath a simple grey robe.
"Caractacus," Kingsley greeted warmly, "it's been awhile, thankfully."
Burke laughed good naturedly, "Alas, I don't like to see you coming by the shop Kingsley."
"Hopefully you won't give me reason too," The head auror grinned, a single gold tooth glinting.
"Why Mr Burke, are you hiding something nefarious in your shop?" Morwen quietly asked with a smirk.
"If I am, it is likely something you sold for Griphook Miss Morwena," he shook his head, "I do believe you could sell snow to the Eskimo's."
Ezekiel Greengrass laughed, "I would love to have look around those vaults, I can only imagine what they bring you Burke."
"No doubt I don't want to know!" Kingsley clapped a Greengrass on the back, "I do believe that's Milton Travers, excuse me folks, I have a bone to pick with that hitwizard."
"Shall I expect you to visit again soon Morwena?" Burke turned his attention back to the witch. Ezekiel had been joined by an auburn haired woman she could logically guess was his wife by their interaction, she seemed to fussing over his robes.
"Oh I never know what quest Griphook is onto next, he shows up at my office just when he sets his mind to the thing," she explained demurely.
"He seems to trust you well, for a witch, I'd imagine one doesn't come by that easily," Burke was looking at her rather intently.
"My Uncles influence to be sure," she shrugged airlessly, Burke just looked bemused at her answer. Those dark eyes searched her face, staring straight through her coyness, making her feel uncomfortably easy to read. Distracting herself she smiled aimlessly at the auburn lady beside Greengrass.
"Ezekiel it is terrible that you haven't introduced me to this most unknown witch, how come we have never met?" The auburn lady had caught her eye as Morwen was taking in the painstakingly hand stitched lace of her robes. The embroidered pearls and gemstones glittered as Greengrass' wife closed the gap between herself and the other witch.
"This is Morwena Selwyn dear," Ezekiel explained.
"Lovely to make your acquaintance Morwena, I am Philomena," Morwen was surprised when the older woman grasped her hands fervently, "that is such a mouthful though, most people just call me Mina. I insist you must do so, why my mother gave me such a long winded name I'll never know."
Morwena nodded as Mina chattered on without missing a beat, "Ezekiel, why don't you and Mr Burke find us a more suitable drink? I can't drink anymore of that vulgar fizz." Admonishing her husband with her fan the auburn witch turned back to Morwen, "You know, it's not even champagne!"
"Really?" Morwen raised a brow, "I must confess I hadn't even noticed."
"Darling, why don't you just ask a house elf-"
"Us ladies can't be seen ordering drinks Ezekiel," Mina was quietly outraged. "Especially before dinner."
"Of course not, Morwen what do you drink?" Burke turned to her, the picture of politeness.
"Something with gin," she thanked him.
'Gin." Mina was alarmed, fluttering her ancient looking paper fan violently, "you mustn't drink gin, no get us both a sherry Mr Burke. Seeing my husband is so ill mannered too me."
"I'm going now aren't l" Ezekiel bit out exasperated.
"Oh don't make a scene about the thing now Ezekiel. Excuse my husband, his mother's french you know and it does make him rather deplorable at times," his wife whispered to Morwen, not without a hint of pride in contrast to her words.
"I hadn't even conceived of such an idea, Ezekiel has been most polite," Morwen replied faintly, she hadn't a moment to think with the attentions of his dear wife fixed upon her.
" Mr Burke has such a lovely manner Miss Morwena, do you know he's never been married," she leaned closer to the dark haired witch.
"No, I hadn't known," she replied weakly, wondering where Hestia had gotten too.
"Very dashing, but don't set you cap for a good marriage there dear," Mina said quietly as her husband turned to talk to a very tall man with a very high forehead.
"Oh I haven't thought of marriage."
"Well of course he is a strapping man, marriage needn't matter there but a woman needs a respectable husband."
Morwen looked at her with surprise, "I hardly know Mr Burke, indeed, I hardly know any Englishmen nowadays. I've been away for such a long time."
"Not to worry, I know a few young gentlemen who would do for you Morwena, now I had immediately though of a Flint cousin who attended Durnstrang. However, a lack of champagne indicates a lack of something else in the family coffers," The auburn witch told her knowledgeably.
"Oh really?"
"Oh yes, there's a Montague roving around somewhere, handsome chap," Mina looked about her.
"Oh but we've already met," at Mina's interested look she continued, "I do think he is reputable of course, but" she paused as if not wanting to say.
"I've only met him the once, not a grand conversationalist," Mina admitted, "such a pity," she sighed.
"Indeed, but I'm in no great hurry Mina," she tried to tell the older woman.
"Pah, don't fret, you cover it well with indifference girl. Well find you a husband," Mina patted her arm and Morwen tried not to bristle, she liked the singular life.
Morwen was saved by an unlikely wizard making his way back, cutting through the crowd with a lazy grace. "Ah but here is Burke."
Mina said no more as she took the glass from him.
"Sherry milady," the dark haired wizard handed Morwen the drink with a wry look.
"Thanks," she sipped the sickly drink and tried to hide her grimace, there was a stilted quietness as they stood just the three of them. Turning to Burke she asked, "So have you worked in the shop long?"
"Since Hogwarts," he replied.
"Just you and old Borgin now?" Ezekiel joined in with the man with the high forehead.
"Yes, my uncle died a few years ago. Still, it's nice to have greater responsibility," he nodded politely.
"I have an old cloak which might interest you," the other wizard interjected, "I must bring it down."
Burke shrugged, "we'll be open all week."
"Are you men whittering on about business?" Mina joined Morwen's side with a pretty young blonde witch.
"The Dinner Bell has rang, come Daphne," Mina ushered them towards the dining room. "Morwena you should drink up, it's the only thing that will help you suffer Dawkins." The older woman nodded to high forehead, whispering before marching off ahead of them.
Morwen looked to the full glass with distaste, suddenly a dark clad arm swiped it from her. Burke paused beside a fern to upend the contents in its pot.
A smirk played at his lips as he handed the glass back to her and walked off towards dinner.
Luckily Morwena found herself seated beside Hestia, two unmarried working witches once again relegated to the end of the table. Percy and Audrey were close by them, thankfully, along with Montague and few others she didn't know.
"Well, I saw Mina Greengrass got a hold of you?" Hestia asked with a smirk over her soup.
"Oh stop, the headache," Morwen groaned, "she means well…"
"The woman's only aspiration in life is to be married and she can't understand why the rest of us haven't yet," the blonde muttered quietly.
"It's a little insufferable," Morwen agreed.
"Still working on the wizengamot Hestia?" The wizard seated opposite the blonde enquired, a slight French accent coloured his perfect English.
"Yes, still soldiering on. Still loafing around on daddy's money Jean-luc?" Morwen has never seen anyone cast a look of loathing like it, she was rather intrigued.
The handsome wizard just laughed, twin dimples lighting up his face, "I missed you Hestia, I'm not sure what zis loafing is but I think I catch your meaning."
The witch just sniffed and turned to Magnus Montague beside her, smiling at him prettily she asked him how his work had been this week.
"Very interesting actually," Magnus replied, completely oblivious to the Frenchman's teasing gaze which never left his tablemate. "We arrested a few rabble rousers this week, protesting at the Ministry."
"Oh really?" Hestia feigned interest, Morwen was amused at how rattled the usually cool witch was.
"You didn't mention protesting Percy?" Audrey asked her boyfriend.
Morwen turned to listen, Hestia was still giving Magnus her full attention.
"Yes," Percy started rather awkwardly, "just a few people protesting the Ministry's stance on the Dumbledore question."
"The Dumbledore question?" Morwen asked interested.
"Oh yes, his fitness as Headmaster of course. Thankfully Umbridge has been elected to Hogwarts but some wizards are believing all this propaganda Dumbledore is spewing," Percy eagerly told them.
"The Ministry don't have a stance on the increasing levels of dark activity then?" Morwen asked matter of fact as her main course was served.
"What activity?" Percy frowned, "Dumbledore is making a bid for Minister Of Magic and using Harry to do it."
"So the dementors aren't increasingly leaving Azkaban?" Morwen tried to sound merely curious, "Not that it has much to do with me, I'm just an antiques dealer, but I read that in the prophet."
"The dementors are firmly in control of the Ministry," Percy was adamant. "All this nonsense is ruining a perfectly good dinner."
"Umbridge wasn't elected anywhere," a gangly looking man to the other side of Audrey cut in.
Percy looked affronted but Morwen nodded, "I don't suppose she has been, that was a ministry decision I take it Percy?"
"Of course it was, the Ministry's acting in everyone's best interests," Percy was red in the face, looking on the poor fellow like he had sprouted horns.
"Well, of course Percy," Morwen smiled placatingly to the steaming redhead. Audrey looked at her, relief that subject might be settled.
"Dirk Cresswell," The fair-haired man introduced himself, "you're a Selwyn aren't you, I think we were at school together."
"Ah! Yes," Morwen remembered him as a pot smoking pacifist. Consistent in his bad habits and with a talent for languages, Morwen can hardly remember having one solid conversation with him. "We were both Ravenclaw, what are you up to nowadays?"
"Head Of Goblin relations, no doubt I'll be seeing you at some point," he grinned, elbows on the table.
"Oh likely," She was thankful for a friendly face. "You put your languages to good use, Gobbledegook would come in handy."
"I'd be happy to give you a few phrases, you should come down to the Mine Hunter sometime," Dirk replied in earnest. The Mine Hunter was a Goblin pub that Morwen didn't frequent much.
"Ah Yes, The hitwizard has spoken," Jean-luc drawled cuttingly.
Morwen and the other three turned to see what was happening, a fraught tension had appeared on along the dining table.
Hestia didn't so much as twitch, just continued to angle herself towards Magnus, who glared at the French man, "what was your job again Delacour?"
"I'm a journalist actually," The blonde man just laughed.
"Really luc?" Hestia sneered sulkily, "you don't even work for a newspaper."
"At least hitwizard's are out there doing some actual work, not just pushing quills about all day long," Magnus snarled.
Jean-Luc just laughed carelessly which almost irritated Magnus all the more.
"Well if that's all you do with a quill it's little wonder you're a hitwizard," The Frenchman muttered when they'd begun to calm a little.
"Luc!" Hestia warned.
"What my love, much more exciting to be an auror no?" He looked around the table questioningly, "aurors are the real detectives in England eh?"
"Over rated, arrogant-" Magnus started but Hestia put a hand on his arm and settled him.
"Say you're a Delacour, any relation to the French foreign minister?" Dawkins with the high forehead suddenly asked from beside Jean -Luc.
"My beloved father," he replied with a shrug.
Thankfully the orchestra in the next room had started up again and everyone began to get up, Dinner was finished.
