Chapter Three: Shadows of War

Artorius paced furiously; as Victoria entered the room, she saw her husband hurl the glass in his hand at the wall with an agonized, grieving wail. Then he went straight down, collapsing bonelessly as she flew to him, wrapping him in a hug; he trembled with shock and grief. "Why, 'Toria?" She shook her head against his shoulders. "They…they hadn't done anything…they never hurt anyone…why…why…why?" Against her chest, he dissolved into sobs, pulling her close and wrapping around her, keening and grieving in a way that reminded her of his Animagus form.

She stroked his head, letting her own tears fall and mix with his. She'd adored her in-laws; they'd burst every misgiving she'd ever had about moving to England and leaving her home country behind. She'd never had to worry about the 'dragon' of a mother-in-law…unless she did something foolish and then she was scolded up one side and down the other, just like her own mother would do. "I don't know," she admitted softly as her husband's cries lessened. "I don't know; it makes no sense." Even as she cried, she wiped the tears away from his eyes. "We're going to get through this, Arthur; we're going to be okay. We've got each other, we have the children; we're going to be just fine."

"Oh, Aslan, the kids," he whimpered. "How do I tell them, 'Toria…how do I tell them their grandparents are gone?"

She wept harder, pressing her face against his. "We'll tell them together, Arthur; I'm with you, remember?"

"To the end," he managed. It took him a second, but, "Let this be the hour when we draw swords together."

"Fell deeds awake," she whispered.

"Now for wrath," he replied.

"Now for ruin."

"And the red dawn," they finished together.

His eyes were wet and red, but he shakily pulled himself together. "I-if something happens…?"

"My folks," she murmured, understanding him without words.

"I wish…"

"Arthur?"

A sniffle. "I wish I had more family…aunts, uncles, cousins…something."

She hugged him harder. "I wish that, too," she whispered back.

As the night continued, they sat together in the front room, cradling each other and mourning for their loved ones, gone home to Aslan. Their once secure world had fallen apart and neither knew how to put it back together.

When Artorius read the letter from Gringotts, he closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. This was going to shatter Victoria. But there was nothing to be done, so he went downstairs and watched as Victoria laughed at their two children. Lance had managed – somehow – to get into the shed and he'd promptly found a paint bucket left over from some recent upkeep. Naturally, the three-and-a-half-year-old had brought his find back to the house for his sister to see; now both children were covered in white paint, their hair clumped with the stuff. Victoria was trying to scold Lance, but that was difficult when she kept stopping to laugh at his and Alanna's twin wide-eyed looks of mixed delight and dismay.

Artorius closed his eyes again, then opened them up and stepped into the room. "Mindy," he called. As the house-elf appeared with a pop, he instructed, "Please take the children and get them cleaned up. Keep them busy until we call for you again."

"Mindy do, Master," the little elf squeaked, before gathering up the two children and departing.

'Toria frowned at her husband; normally, she would have cleaned the two up herself. "Arthur?" Both question and warning; the American born witch had never gotten completely used to the idea of house-elves and disliked what smacked of slavery to her.

Her husband sighed heavily and held the letter out. " 'Toria, I'm so sorry," was all he could say as she took the letter.

Her wail rang out; the letter slipped from her hand only halfway read and she would have collapsed if not for her husband catching her. "No, no, no, NO!" she shrieked; she pounded on her husband's chest, her shrieks dissolving into anguished weeping.

He held her as she had held him months earlier, stroking her hair and whispering reassurances that he was there and they were going to be okay. She sobbed harder, clinging to him with everything she had. "I've got you," he whispered, cradling her and rocking her. "I'm here, sweetheart."

He looked down at the letter and away, wishing it had never come, wishing its news had never happened. Artorius had liked Victoria's parents; elder, Victoria the unexpected surprise late in their lives. He hadn't known them as well as she had known his parents; a consequence of the two living in England instead of America. They hadn't even had a chance to meet their second grandchild, what with everything going on in Britain and the deaths of his parents, they'd put off the trip to America until Alanna turned two.

It took him a moment to realize Victoria's sobs had died away, though his wife's eyes were still filled and tears fell freely down her cheeks.

Artorius almost choked, but he whispered, "Let this be the hour when we draw swords together."

Recognition in her eyes. "Fell deeds awake," she whispered back.

"Now for wrath."

"Now for ruin."

Together, "And the red dawn."

Silence hung between them. "I hate them so much," Victoria managed, "Your parents, my parents; where does it stop, Arthur?"

"I don't know, honey," Artorius admitted, twining his fingers with hers. "I just don't know."

"They can't have my children," the witch declared; Artorius nodded just as firmly.

"We'll have to do something, 'Toria…right now, the closest blood relation they have is…"

"Is who?"

His head dropped. "Mum was a Lestrange before she married…brother to the late Lord…that makes the Lestranges our closest kin."

Her eyes turned frantic. "No, no, Arthur; they cannot have our children."

Artorius hugged her tighter. "They won't, 'Toria; I promise you that. We may have another option."

"Tell me."

"We can overrule my mum's kin if we can find someone in Dad's line…paternal beats maternal, even if the relation is more distant."

"But your family hasn't had more than one child in generations," Victoria pointed out, confused.

"True," Artorius conceded. "After…" he choked, but forced the words out, "…after Mum and Dad died, I told the goblins to start a genealogy search, find any possible relatives on Dad's side."

"They found someone," she breathed.

A nod against her hair. "His name's Greg Parker; he's a Muggle please man in Canada."

With that settled, Victoria's tears flowed even harder; she clung to her husband, mourning her parents as evening fell and the nighttime hours ticked away. Artorius held her, rocking her and grieving right along with her. Their world was in tatters, there was a madman on the loose, killing at will, and their family now consisted of themselves, their children, and a single cousin in Canada that neither had ever met. Aslan, please, be with us…all of us, Artorius prayed. Protect my children, no matter what.