Master Linus Returns

A/N: To those of you who are reading, thank you so much! Every Story Alert, Favorite, and Review means a lot to me. That's what I'm thankful for this Thanksgiving.

Also, a quick note: those of you who have seen the Deathly Hallows [first] film already know that Thorfinn Rowle is indeed a character in the film, with an actor, an appearance, and a probable age. However, I hope that you will allow yourselves to forget that for when you read my story. Thank you.

Last bit, I don't know why this has a random bolding in the middle of it. I tried to fix it, but the server is being stubborn. Oh well.

Enjoy this chapter!

Surrounding the house for miles around was forest and garden and graveyard, the latter so winding and scattered that it was almost a paradox as to which came first, the woods or the cemetery. Stepping through this entity and explaining it all as he went along was the recently-Apparated Linus Ollivander, with Mark following close behind.

"All wizards are buried or burned with their wands, of course, if possible, but we Ollivanders take it a step further. We plant saplings of the same wood on the graves. The Ollivanders are an ancient clan in this country, and so we may actually be the source of this forest – at least, that's what my grandmother used to say."

Mark followed, seeing stones in the forest floor that were too old to be read and too square to be natural. One stone, from which two different trees grew, had the faint carving on it of a true-lover's knot. Another stone whose tree was felled and hollowed had the imprint of an anchor above a weathered name. Was the anchor a symbol of hope? Of martyrdom? Or did that stone name a hapless wandmaker who had died at sea?

Inexplicably, Mark felt on his guard: had he not been with Linus, he would have muttered, "My spider-sense is tingling," or at least something in that same vein. Every one of these trees sprang from the heart of a clan: Linus and Calliope's family. 'Very bad place, then, for a romantic midnight stroll…' he thought, and scurried closer to the nearest (living) Ollivander.

Linus seemed to pick up on his trepidation, because he said, "Don't worry. I'm the legal heir of Hollywyck and everything on its grounds. You're perfectly safe with me."

Mark looked up at the treetops. "Is there anything here that you can see which I can't?"

Linus adjusted his glasses. "Not to my understanding, no."

To himself, Linus reflected that the trees to him did seem eerily more… anthropomorphic here than anywhere else, but Mark would probably prefer not knowing that.

"There are seven rows of wood surrounding the house itself – and not 'rings' either, precisely, but enclosed shapes, which is the point. A row of oak, hawthorne, and ash, then a thinner spread ring of rowan, a hexagram of cedar, then a few myrtle bushes – and lastly and most thickly, a ring of holly bush. Stay close."

Mark spotted what looked like a deliberate carving on one of the trees. "Waitasec – is that supposed to be there?" he asked, pointing.

Linus, walking very briskly by now, said only "yes."

"Does this place have any fences or railings?"

Linus pushed a branch away from his head and held it out for Mark to get past. "The trees are all the fence we need. And that's the holly right up ahead."

Any joke about "hooray for holly-wood" that Mark had been preparing to make died in the face of that towering wall of thickly clustered, dark green leaves where new ones gleamed through like emeralds. Mark could only see some sky and the dark brown roof of a turret through the jutting, untrimmed branches at the top. "Is there any other way to get in?" he asked.

"Well, yes – a gate, a path – but those are all the way on the other side of the house. And that's enchanted and still made out of holly. We're by the western door over here – don't be scared." Linus went right up to the holly and set his hands on two branches.

"So I'll just follow you?" Mark asked.

Linus didn't appear to have heard him – instead he was peering closely into the bush as though looking for an opening. "All right, here we are –"

"Linus…"

"One, two –"

"Linus?"

"Three!" Linus pushed on the branches and they parted for him. He stepped forward – and Mark followed his steps into the stippled light and shadow. He tried to follow as closely behind Linus as possible – the holly seemed to want to close directly behind Linus.

Just how thick could this hedge possibly be? And Linus seemed to have much more ease navigating the roots and fallen branches than Mark – or was it that they cleared the way for him? A branch snagged on Mark's pant leg. Another barb caught the sleeve of his jacket, scratching him deeply. He gave a small cry. "Linus – Linus, wait!"

But Linus was already striding ahead – and the holly was closing behind him, and around Mark.

Mark swore, and tried to tug his arm and leg free. The leaves above him were moving, blocking the speckled light from him. He realized that his arm by now was actually encircled by a pliant, but strong new branch. 'Do not panic,' he though, 'do not panic.' Taking a deep breath, he tried to pull free – only to find that real, magical holly is unyielding, impenetrable, and equipped with extremely sharp leaves.

Linus broke through the other side of the holly. When he saw Hollywyck, he gave a long sigh of relief and satisfaction. "Home," he said softly.

"Linus!" called a voice that he knew. He looked and hailed his sister. "Callie!"

She checked her speed as she came down the slope and stopped a couple of feet away from him. "Linus. What is your wand made out of?"

He straightened up at once. "Trick question. One wand is walnut and unicorn hair, the other willow and dragon heartstring."

"Good. Now for me…"

"What was your first display of magic?"

"I crawled on that tree –" she pointed to a large apple tree that stood some distance away, "in the middle of winter and caused an entire branch of it to bloom. Good."

Linus grinned and stepped forward to hug her. "Callie, it's so good to see you again."

She hugged him but broke off quickly. "You too. But where's Mark?"

"What?"

"Mark. Mark Printzen. He's been accused of Presumption."

"Oh, Mark! He's right – he's right behind me…" Linus turned around to look, but there was no one on that side of the holly fence except themselves.

"Oh no… did I invite him in?" he asked himself, furrowing his brow. "I can't…"

"Oh, for pity's sake." Calliope left her brother and walked into the holly fence. The leaves parted easily for her before Linus could even follow.

"Honestly," She muttered as she stalked through the foliage. "Can't even remember to invite him…" she trailed off. She could see a form some way ahead of her in the darkness, and hurried towards it. As she got closer, the leaves parted over her head to let in some sunlight, revealing Mark, deeply mired in the branches, leaves, and thorns of holly, and looking quite alarmed.

"Mark!" she said loudly. He looked at her, and the sunlight fell on his face in the same minute. She couldn't help smiling as she said, "Mark Printzen, please come with me to Hollywyck. I invite you."

At her words, a susurration filled the air as the leaves retreated, the branches loosened and curled back into themselves, and brambles unhooked themselves from Mark Printzen. When he was entirely free, he stood there a bit awkwardly, rubbing his arm, and looking all around. Finally he looked at Calliope.

She offered her hand. "C'mon." He took it, with some surprise, and followed her out of the hedge. He could already see the other, open side of the fence. Before they reached it, Calliope stopped. She turned around to look at him. "Mark, it's really you, right?"

"How could you doubt me?"

"Name three movies that we've seen together."

"Ah? Er, Gone With the Wind, The Nightmare Before Christmas, and Cabaret."

"Good… now, ask me something only I would know."

"Why?"

"Because I might be an imposter."

"Oh, it's not enough that I've been accused of Presumption, now there might be a fake you running around?"

"You really have been found guilty of Presumption?"

He glanced down and nodded. "Yes."

She gave a short huff. "Well, we have to fix that."

He looked up again. "You mean you believe me?"

"Of course. You're Mark. How could you be guilty?"

He beamed. "And that's how I know you're really Calliope."

"What are you waiting for?" Linus called from the other side of the fence. Together they turned and stepped onto the lawn of Hollywyck.

Mark could hear the holly closing itself behind them when he stepped out, but didn't want to look. Linus was waiting for them. "I could have looked for him myself!"

Calliope dropped Mark's hand. "It doesn't matter who looked for whom. I want to know how you two got here, and how you," indicating Mark, "were found guilty of Presumption, especially with you," indicating Linus, "acting as his attorney! This doesn't make the slightest bit of sense…"

"Mark, what are you looking at?" Linus asked. Calliope turned.

Mark had stepped a bit away from the Ollivanders to get a better look at the house itself: a magnificent creation in the style of Mock Tudor architecture. Surrounding it were gardens and a fountain, but they did not block the grandeur of the house itself. "… you guys grew up here?"

Linus gave a little cough and said, "Well, only sometimes. We spent more time in London, but we did used to spend every Christmas here."

"Whoa." Mark turned around to survey the forest. "Imagine Christmas in a place like this!"

"It was nice," Calliope admitted. "Let's go up to the house. I feel uneasy standing around and waiting."

"I agree. I could really use a nap." Linus started up the hill already.

"Are you really his attorney?" Calliope asked anxiously. "It just doesn't make sense."

Linus glowered. "In a sense… yes. It's a really long story."

Calliope turned behind them. "Mark, come on."

Mark, meanwhile, was casting his gaze all over, and this expression changed very slowly, from joy to a quiet sort of disbelief. He looked at Calliope, whose silver eyes and measured voice were doing strange things to his heart. He looked at Hollywyck, which boasted, without a word, of centuries of riches and land and prestige, against the farmers, carpenters and miners that were his forebears. He looked at Linus, whose magic could take everything away from Mark.

That was it, in the end, wasn't it? Hollywyck was built on it, Linus and Calliope breathed it, it was everything standing between their world and Mark's. Magic. And as Mark followed Calliope up the sloping path between the lavender and anemones and he watched her easy, graceful walk, he felt half filled with a confusion of joy he'd never known before, and half empty with the invisible chill of despair.

"I just can't believe this," Calliope said, shaking her head. "How did you come all the way out – Mark, why are you blushing?"

He started up with a guilty look. "I'm not blushing."

"You are."

He glanced away quickly. "Maybe it's sunburn or something."

"Yes. Let's go inside." Linus glared at Mark for a second, then led the way, or started to lead them to the kitchen door, but Calliope insisted, "No, come on, let's take him in by the front." Begrudgingly Linus agreed, and Mark was taken to the massive front door, carved with the ancient coat of arms of the Ollivander family.

"Amazing," was Mark's statement. "Are those supporters…"

"A squirrel and a beaver," Linus supplied.

"Our family never went for pretentious symbolism." Calliope added. "The squirrel because we stay in the forests, and the beaver for hard work."

"And the shield?" Mark leaned in.

"It's a pun. Remind me to look it up specifically for you later."

"It's – wow." Mark pointed to the bottom of the diamond-shaped shield. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I really don't know," Linus answered. "How about we go inside – Calliope? What's wrong?"

Calliope had dropped to her knees before the door, her fingers tracing the now familiar symbol of triangle-circle-and-line that was at the base of her family's shield. She turned to her brother. "Linus, have you seen this before?"

"Sure. It's the Peverell coat of arms."

She stood up. "I've got to get back to the library." This grave statement was met by some silence, then Mark said, "Always a good idea!" Calliope looked sidelong at him and gave him a slightly exasperated smile.

"Either way…" Linus stepped forward and pulled the rope by the door. Seven notes sounded on a deep chime and the door creaked open. Calliope entered first, then Mark, then Linus.

The hall into which they stepped was high-ceilinged and dark, with brick walls. After stepping through a circular room with a skylight, which connected to other areas of the house, they entered the dining room. On the table, tea was already set for three.

Mark looked at Calliope. "Did you –?"

"No," she said, "this is Scurry's work."

"Scurry?" Mark pulled a chair out for Calliope to sit on – he didn't notice, but he beat the chair itself to the draw.

"She's the house-elf." Before Mark could repeat that, she added, "A – a sprite? Is that what you might call it? She takes care of the house and its owners."

"An elf, you say?"

"Nothing like elves as Muggles think of them – say, Linus, call her in."

Linus had just bitten into a deviled egg. He chewed hastily, swallowed, "No, I won't. She's not little pet we can trot out."

"But he's going to see her eventually – why not introduce them?"

Linus shrugged (Calliope noticed how pale he looked, but decided not to mention it then.) "Oh, very well." He turned to the kitchen door, "Scurry, come out please." There was a pause. To Mark's unanswered question, he said, "Oh, she's coming."

Tentatively and reluctantly the diminutive form edged her way into the room. When she was all in, she trotted at once to where Calliope and Linus were sitting, right out of Mark's line of sight. "Yes?" she curtsied, hidden between the legs of Linus' and Calliope's chairs. "What did Master Linus call us for?"

"Scurry, what are you doing?" Linus asked.

Calliope swallowed a bite of sandwich, "We just wanted you to meet our new – houseguest." She gestured to Mark, but Scurry turned her head away from her. "We do not wants to meet him, Missus."

"What?" Calliope said. Linus chimed, "Why not? He's not going to harm you." (Mark was trying to see over the far edge of the table without standing up.)

"But Ma-ster…" Scurry's little teeth were ground together, "It isn't fitting for a – a common Muggle to see the likes of an Hollywyck house-elf, and watching us work and all like a common ox! Please, Master Linus, don't make us discomfited so."

The siblings looked at Mark. "She doesn't want to –"

"I get it, Linus." Mark held up his hands, as if in surrender. "It's okay. If it makes her uncomfortable – I don't want to put her through it."

"Scurry, you are dismissed." Linus said, and there was a rush of tiny footprints – faster than Mark could notice, Scurry had vanished. Calliope looked at him apologetically. "I'm sorry about that. Normally she's very nice, but…"

Linus said thoughtfully, "I can't really remember the last time a Muggle would have been inside Hollywyck. No wonder she was confused – don't you agree, Calliope?"

But Calliope was looking at Mark with a fixed and inquiring expression.

"Yes?" Mark asked.

Calliope looked from him to her brother. "It is odd, I suppose, a Muggle inside Hollywyck. But odder still is my Muggle friend – my American Muggle friend – arriving at Hollywyck's doorstep accompanied by my brother, whose job and duty would be to modify the memories of people such as my friend. And even odder is the fact that I heard on the radio that you are both criminals wanted by the Wizengamot." She glared at them both. "I'm not exactly happy to hear that. How did you come to this?"

Linus opened his mouth, but Mark spoke first: "It was a rather dark but not very stormy night in Boston, about a week ago, Calliope. When I hit you with my car, and you lost your wand."

Calliope sat up. "My wand. What happened to it?"

Mark prepared himself. "I found it. And I've been trying to get it back to you."

Not sure what day it is. Turpentine has brought me some more books to read. He gives me good light and a nice little chair. The books are interesting enough. But there's something that's been bothering me – I feel like I've forgotten something, something very important. But I'm trying to be like the Zen soldier in the story I read today – who could sleep with the prospect of torture because tomorrow had not yet occurred. Tomorrow, that's one thing. It's my thoughts of yesterday that are troubling me.

"My Lord."

Voldemort looked up from the leatherbound tome he was reading ('Mein Nacht,' the autobiography of Gellert Grindelwald), "Yes, Thorfinn?"

"My brother and I have done what we can. The guard is ready to talk, we think."

"Bring him to me." Voldemort marked his place in the book with a slim bracelet. "If the man does not fear me, he should be killed no matter what he knows."

As Thorfinn turned to the door (hiding his doubting countenance), Voldemort added, "And you and your brother get far too creative with your – psychological torture. Crucio works just fine for lowlifes like – well, like Mr. Hamilton here."

Jesse Hamilton had, until recently, been one of the chief guards of the Sycorax jail. Now his steps as he was shoved into the room were tottering, but when he saw the Dark Lord he fell back onto Turpentine and pushed against him. "Nononono, please, don't make me—!"

"This can be short," Voldemort said evenly, "if you cooperate. "

Hamilton, on his knees before the Dark Lord, reeled back until he was sitting on his heels. He looked back at Thorfinn and Turpentine, as if wishing he were thrust back into their mercy.

"Why don't you ask me what I want to know?" Voldemort inquired. "It's only polite." He looked into the guard's eyes.

Hamilton gave a choked gasp, and said, "W-what do ye want?"

"I want the name of the spell placed on the Sycorax, the one that alerts its wardens to when and exactly where the name of the jail is spoken. If you can give me the incantation as well, that would also serve my purposes."

("How long do you think this will last?" Turpentine whispered to Thorfinn. "I've only got my lunch break…" Thorfinn shrugged.)

"I – I don't know it!"

"Do not lie to Lord Voldemort." The speaker flicked his wand and Hamilton was swooped into the air by his ankle and hovered upside-down near Voldemort, closely enough for the Dark wizard to look into his eyes. After a pause Voldemort said, "The Taboo Spell. And you know the incantation. Stop resisting – or, if you like an incentive, stop resisting and your family will have your body."

Hamilton rallied, somehow. "This will never work," he muttered audibly. "You – you're just another criminal. You thrive on bullying, I've seen your kind – " he screamed. Voldemort was holding his wand back as though a taut string connected it and the victim. At length, he relaxed the Cruciatus curse.

"Don't talk about things you don't understand. Now, what is the incantation, and how is it prepared." Now Voldemort was exerting his will over the man, who broke down and, lowered to the ground again, began to babble what the spell required. "The first part is a map of the intended area…"

Meanwhile, Thorfinn glared at his younger brother (who was still periodically checking his watch) and spoke in an undertone. "Did you hear what he said? About us being too creative? MacNair was going on about it the other day…"

"And you listen to that leather-loving blowhard?"

"He said that the Master is impatient with us, and with you especially refusing to Crucio anyone…"

"No Unforgivables on my wand, no one-way tickets to Azkaban, thank you very much. Jugson convinced me to it and it's a good idea. It's none of your business."

"It reflects badly on me."

"Too bad."

"And – and I don't want to have to sit there and watch one day while the Master teaches you the 'true' meaning of torture, you know he will –"

"I remain convinced that I am in no danger," Turpentine said calmly. "The Master has told me that he approves of my 'fancy' techniques – you see I've spoken to MacNair myself – I'm sure that the Dark Lord just hasn't stopped the rumors because it keeps us on our toes. Why do you think he delivered Ollivander to my special care?"

"Because you asked?"

"And because I –"

"Do I need to make you two silent forever, or will you appreciate the delicate task I am attempting here?"

"Oh, we appreciate it, sir." Thorfinn and Turpentine slid as one into the shadows, quiet and annoyed with each other. But as Turpentine listened to the guard's now rather detailed instructions on the Taboo Locator Spell, an idea for a new "experiment" came to his mind – an experiment to benefit his own personal experiment. He'd put it to work as soon as he got home – presuming, of course, he didn't have to work overtime on account of lengthening his lunch break.

Linus and Mark's explanation of their story to Calliope took quite some time. In that interval, sandwiches on the plate had vanished, to be replaced by cut peaches, which had in their own time vanished to the sound of rapid, tiny footfalls.

Calliope, meanwhile, had frowned, folded her arms, started tapping one foot on the floor, and, towards the end, got up and started pacing across the long side of the table. "Few questions, a few questions," she said when they were done. "Mark, why didn't you explain the wand's connection with me right away? Ollivander is a respected name here – as soon as I came back to England you would have had a witness!"

Mark set his elbows on the table and sunk his head into his hands. "Can you imagine how bewildered I was then? Still am, as a matter of fact… I had no idea what do you, for all I knew there was a changeling lookalike assimilating into my life in Boston!" He paused, expectantly.

"There isn't," Calliope informed him.

"Ah. Good. And how could I have known that your family was respected? All I knew about you was the family emergency about your uncle – damned if I was going to crash that. And, for the record, I did ask if I could call up a character witness – I sent a letter to Andrew – but I never heard back from him. I was told only a Magical Law Enforcement official could represent me. Um… while we're on the subject, have you found out anything about why your uncle disappeared? Who took him?"

"We know it was Death Eaters," Calliope said, sitting back down, "And as for why…"

"Tess says they're going to hold Uncle for ransom," Linus said calmly.

Calliope rolled her eyes. "Of course she would say that."

"Who's –"

"Our cousin. Hector's sister. Older than Linus by five months, and never, ever forgets that he inherited Hollywyck instead of her."

"Oh."

"Anyway," She stood up. "I'm going to fix that as soon as possible. I'll write out a testimony to your innocence, Mark – just as soon as I finish my research."

"Okay. I can wait." He rolled his eyes innocently towards the ceiling. "Would give me more time to explore your library…"

"Yes." Calliope gave a smile. "I can see you're perking up already."

"Might I visit this library?" Mark returned the smile.

"Sure, yeah, you go do that, I'm going to change my clothes and take a nap," Linus announced, "thank you and excuse me." He got up from the table and left the room. Calliope and Mark's eyes followed him, then they looked at each other.

"He didn't sleep well last night." Mark said.

"Oh no – poor thing."

"Oh, um, yeah. Real shame. I had a couple nightmares myself," he hinted. But he saw that she was lost in thought, and not likely to bestow a "poor thing" on him. He changed tactics. "So…" Mark looked at the floor casually, then at Calliope's face, "how have you been doing?"

"Pretty well. Some high-stress things in the past few days."

"Mm. Know what that's like."

"I've met some very interesting people."

"Really? So have I."

Calliope didn't smile. "I'm so sorry to have put you through this, Mark."

"Huh? What are you apologizing for? Oh, my being jailed and all… hey, I should be apologizing to you. I hit you… with my car. I really didn't mean it."

"I didn't think you did."

"Were you hurt?"

"I was bruised, but the worst was a minor splinch, on my hand."

"A what?"

She showed him the white scar on her palm. "It took off a bit of my skin, is all. It's a risk of Apparation. Most of them are much worse." She looked at it gloomily. "I do wish that I had my wand back…"

"Yeah. So do I. But – don't worry, Hector has it!"

"Pardon?"

"Linus left out that part when he was telling it – Hector came to see us right before we left, and he said that he had your wand, and had returned a similar wand to the courts. So you can go to him and pick it up anytime."

"Oh." Calliope sighed, not looking at Mark or at anything anymore. "Good old Hector."

"Yeah, I really liked that fellow. After I got arrested, he was the first person who spoke really politely to me. Even though I was a total nerd, asking him where his wand came from and whether he was born a wizard – he was quite civil."

"Oh – I hope that you weren't mistreated while – did they mistreat you?" she asked sharply.

"Nothing I couldn't recover from."

"But did they?"

"Calliope, don't worry! I was a little – manhandled, okay, yes, but considering that they're wizards and all, they could have done worse. But it'll be okay…" He looked at the woodwork in the ceiling. "I would have made a complaint when I was in court, but I figure a little manhandling is usual in any prison – especially makes sense when I think of a war on."

Calliope shook her head, eyes wide, staring at him. "I can't believe this is happening – to anyone, and least of all to you."

He paused. "Calliope, why didn't you tell me you were a witch?"

She was a little stunned. "I – I never even thought of telling you."

"Why not?"

"First of all, it's illegal in Britain without proper clearance."

"But in Boston…"

"Yes, America is a bit more lax about it, but I never even thought of it. You only tell a Muggle you're a witch if it's a life-or-death situation, or if you have a really exceptional relationship with them – like family, or spouses."

"Exceptional," he repeated.

"Our whole world – both of our worlds depend on it being a secret. You must have realized that by now."

"I would have kept it a secret."

"But I liked it when you didn't know!"

"… I don't understand."

She gathered her thoughts before speaking. "This war – publicly, news only spread at the start of the summer, but I knew something was up before then. And it's been something that's really been weighing down on me."

He nodded. "I did notice that."

"And all my wizard friends tried to be helpful – but every time I saw Andrew, or Scalia, or Tabitha –"

"Tabitha's a witch too?"

"Of course, Andrew's sister – any of my wizard friends, they would only want to talk about the war. 'Is anyone you know hurt?' they'd ask. 'There was an attack at Such-and-Such, I'd heard, do you know that place?' And I didn't want the war to be ignored, but, god! I was so tired of hearing it when I could do absolutely nothing! And the war has even spread a bit to America – the purebloods movement has caught on there,… I was sick of it. But you… you had no idea it was going on at all. I never dreamed you could be in any danger. You could make me forget the war because you didn't know about it in the first place. Even when I couldn't explain why I was upset, you were always patient with me. Those times meant so much to me – I didn't want to lose them." She sighed. "But it looks like I have."

Mark tenuously extended a hand, but the table was too wide for him to reach her. "It's not your fault," he said softly. "It's mine. I wanted… I guess this is what I wanted. Adventure. Change. Variety."

"Danger? Life-threatening danger?"

"Well, how bad could it be?"

"Don't be flippant," she said darkly. "I read in The Daily Prophet today that eighty-seven percent of wizards with significant Muggle friends or family members have isolated themselves from them or limited contact, to keep them out of danger."

"To keep who out of danger – whom? The Muggles or the wiz—"

"Both, but most especially the Muggles."

Calliope glanced downward towards her clasped hands. Mark leaned forward, eager to reassure her. "Look, I've a level head on my shoulders when I need it –"

"When you need it?" she repeated wryly.

"And I can take care of myself, up here I'm sure to be…"

"Mark. Please, I'm not insulting you and I don't want you out of the way, but you are out of your depth. In fact, I think I'm out of my depth, but at least I have magic. You don't – "

"I can learn! There's a library here, I'll study every way I can defend myself!"

"But you can't! Mark, there's only so much you can do – you can't splash them with holy water or drive a stake into their hearts!"

"Though that would probably work…"

"Don't joke about it. You-Know –" she stopped, took a deep breath. "Hold on," She closed her eyes and clenched her fists. "V-v-Vol- Vol-de—mort—you see? You see how hard it is for me to say it? The first eight years of my life were spent in terror of him! He killed my sister! And the man – thing won't die! There was something like a rebounded Killing Curse years ago, that everyone thought had killed him – we all hoped it had killed him – but it hadn't, he came back and now –" She was stopped – tears clouded her vision before she even realized it. Instinctively Mark got up and hurried around the table to her.

"There there," he said, awkwardly putting an arm around her shoulders. "You don't have to talk if…"

"I don't want to talk, I'm trying to tell you," she said, inhaling deeply, not crying anymore. "Mark, you're not only endangering me, endangering Linus and even Hector by just being here, you are outmatched. I'm not putting you down, you are past hope. You will be killed or tortured at the first chance. Do you think I want to see that?" She drew away and looked down at him as he knelt on the floor. "Mark, it is my opinion that you have to return to the United States as soon as you possibly can. For your own safety, you'd probably be best off never even trying to re-enter the wizarding world."

Mark's face, which was hurt and overwhelmed, grew rather hard. "Do you think I should forget about it all, too?"

"Ye—no, no, I –" She looked away, "Don't ask me that, I'm not the one to ask!"

"To me you are," he said, barely thinking. He internally rebuked himself – it was almost too close…

Calliope clenched her jaw, her eyes looking beyond the trappings of the room. "Linus says that part of Obliviator training is detaching yourself from your – from your clients, is the technical term for it. I think you could be trusted with the information, but the Wizengamot – or the Pentagram – might not think so."

"So you're trying to look at me analytically now?"

"I'm trying to separate you and your situation. You're in so much danger – by being in Hollywyck, by already being as involved in the world as you are, by the fact that you're accused of stealing a wand…"

"I wonder – oh, sorry for interrupting…"

"Go ahead."

"If I could appeal my case to an American court. If that would be a legitimate reason to get me out of the country and take this sentence off my head."

Calliope paused, looking at Mark sadly. "I don't know. I don't want anything bad to happen to you, you realize—" Mark's face brightened a little. She scooted her chair back and joined him sitting on the floor. "—I'm only saying this for your own good. The sooner you're back home, the better."

He nodded. "But how could I leave you here, knowing that now you're in a war? A war that I can't even follow in the papers?"

"Better me than you. I have magic."

"What if you get hurt."

"Mark—"

"Or killed?"

She crossed her arms across her chest. "I've been trying to not worry about if I'm going to be killed. I'm going to be wary, I'm taking every precaution, but I'm going to put energy into that, not into fretting over if I could die any minute."

He studied her profile, and finally said, "I guess there's no use in trying to convince you to come back to America with me."

She looked at him, her silver eyes sharp. "You wouldn't, anyway."

"And how do you know?"

"If you could, you'd stay and fight. That's what I think."

He nodded a bit. "I like to think so too. A knight-errant. That's me."

"But – and I mean this as your friend – you're a Muggle."

He took a deep breath. "I know." Another pause. "I guess that's that."

"I guess."

"To get home… I guess I could scoot across to Ireland, first, separate government there – at least, I presume so?"

"Yeah…"

"I could plead asylum as I run like hell to the nearest airport."

"But it's an island, Mark, you wouldn't 'scoot across' to it."

"Well, I am with you."

"Hm?"

"Got a flying carpet anywhere around the house?"

"What? Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Books! And actually, Linus did say that there was one around here…"

"Yeah, it's from Dad's side of the family."

"Ooh, yeah, you told me once he was Moroccan, right?"

"Yes, but flying carpets are illegal."

"Might as well go the whole nine yards, yeah?"

"No. You might catch cold."

"If I had a captain along, someone to help me steer the thing, that'd be great!"

"Like that animated movie we watched?"

"Yeah – leaves a slow boat to China in the dust…"

"Or we could just use Side-Along Apparition."

"Ugh. I hate that."

"Mm? We get used to it after a while."

"Oh. Cool."

Both were desperately trying to choose something to say next, which resulted in a long silence, until Calliope perked up, "So, how about the library?"

"Oh? Yeah! The library! Let's go!" Mark jumped up and then held out a hand to Calliope. "Why, thank you," she said.

"So, what other rooms does this house have?" They started through the house.

"Oh, a large workshop in the cellar, a couple of parlors, a pantry, and a music room off the library – but no ballrooms, in case you're wondering. It's not a house meant for entertaining."

"I'm really amused that you thought I would be wondering about ballrooms."

"A lot of other old houses have them… but not us. That's a workshop there."

"Ooh…" He peered in at the door. "Has your family always been wandmakers?"

"Yes. Since 362 B.C."

Mark gave a low whistle. "You guys are… obviously good at keeping records."

"Obviously." Calliope gave Mark a little smile.

"Are you the only wandmakers around?"

"No, but you see, different wandmaking families deliberately decided to get married and unite their lines."

"If you can't beat 'em, join 'em?"

"Well... it's a competitive field. Somewhere along the way, some one had the philosophy that it was better to join forces and combine knowledge. That's where the Ravenclaw part of the family kicks in, no doubt."

"The what? Are your family part birds?"

She laughed.

"I'm serious, at this point I'll believe anything."

"No. But we have family from all over Europe – the Aafjes, the Peverells - you saw their coat-of-arms – and here's the library."

"Allow me…" He stepped forward to open the door ahead of them, and when Calliope was through he stepped through, starting to say, "So any place around here for grand… musical… numbers…" he saw the library.

It was an older wing of the house, but generously lit, and cramped with books. Scores of bookshelves filled the walls and even jutted out of it. Mismatched couches and chairs were perched in front of windows and lamps. A vast fireplace stood on the far end. There were plenty of ladders, and a single spiraling staircase led the way to the upper level. The few parts of wall that weren't covered in books held paintings – windswept landscapes, chirping still lives with birds, and portraits that read quietly in their frames.

Calliope laughed at the look on Mark's face. "Very nice, isn't it? There's a reason that the Ollivanders have always been Sorted into Ravenclaw."

He was about to retort, but stopped. "I - still don't know what that means."

As Mark began to bury himself in history, and Calliope started to reserach research the symbol of the Deathly Hallows to the Ollivander family crest, Linus was upstairs, heading for his room. He had taken a brief walk to his mother's grave, and was now very tired, and very ready to sleep. As he moved along the upstairs highway, he glanced up at the old portraits of Ollivanders past, who looked down on him from their gloom and welcomed him in their own way:

"Been gone long enough, I see."

"What is that thing on your chin? Are you trying to grow a beard?"

"I believe it's called a goatee, Great-Grandfather…"

"Where is your shop crest? Why are you not yet married and furthering the line?" Linus looked up. Prepping a retort, he inadvertently put his hand on the doorknob of the room adjacent to Calliope's.

At once he felt uneasy and stumbled a little. He looked to the door and felt an inexplicable dislike towards it – not as bad as disgust nor as mild as disapproval: he simply did not want to be near it. But it was an innocuous, inoffensive door – why should it affect him?

Having been thus unsettled, he hurried the rest of the way to his own room and closed the door behind him. He took off his cloak and hung it up carefully in the wardrobe, beside his old Hogwarts robes, complete with Head Boy badge – still very nicely dusted. Linus gave a sigh, took off his glasses, and tried to go to sleep.

Thorfinn took away what was left of Jesse Hamilton when the Dark Lord was finished with him. Turpentine, his brother, waited behind. He was clasping and unclasping his hands, excited at the new experiment within-an-experiment which had occurred to him, but he had a request. As the Dark Lord picked up Mein Nacht again, he approached, his head stooped slightly.

"My Lord, do I have permission to speak?"

The Dark Lord had always been a voracious reader, and he did not seem to appreciate the intrusion. However, he put the book down, fixed Turpentine with his stare (the red eyes burned into Turpentine's, and the Death Eater knew he had everything to lose if he tried to deceive him) and said, "Yes, you may speak. What do you want?"

"My Lord, the disobedience and arrogance of Mr. Linus Ollivander has come to my attention."

"Indeed. Bellatrix read it aloud to me today in the paper. I was quite interested."

"Yes. And I want him back. I want to interrogate him myself."

"But about the…"

"As for the Muggle, I think I know how best he should be dealt with. I request Dementors."

"Exactly how many?"

"Three, my Lord. Linus Ollivander is… a very capable wizard. I wish two to capture him, and one to incapacitate the Muggle. Permanently."

"I understand. And I approve. You may have your three Dementors. Ask Gibbon to arrange it for you."

"Thank you, my Lord. I promise you this shall serve as an example."

"I'm sure it will. And, Turpentine?"

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Don't lose any time about it."

Turpentine's eyes were bright and hard as flint as he nodded. "I promise I will have the Sending done this very evening."

As Turpentine left the library of Malfoy Manor, Voldemort opened his book again, taking out the bracelet and playing with it in his hand. Every now and again he glanced at it. It was a very pretty little thing. Amelia Bones had had good taste.

"Good-bye, Debbie, 'till July." Benny, now at fifteen years old and having just left her fourth year at Hogwarts behind, hugged her friend tightly, as if to make up for all their spats over that past year. She had said good-bye to Debbie Martindale and Huo Quinn, and now it was her turn to pass through the barrier to King's Cross. Well, her turn and someone else's.

Twelve-year-old Barty Crouch Jr., his first year at Hogwarts still in his every thought, would not be seen holding hands with a girl on the platform, even if the girl was his cousin. Instead, he locked arms with her and together they took one last look at the bright scarlet engine. When the border guard dropped his hand, Benny was ready for it and yanked Bartemius through.

Their families were waiting for them at the end of the platform. As they hurried towards it, a small emissary came running up to greet them:

"Benny! Benny!"

"Little Dude!" Benedicte slipped her arm out of Barty's and crouched down to pick up her little brother. "Oh, you've gotten so big! And look at how articulately you're speaking, yesh you are, who's an articuwate widdle baybee?"

"Don't you think he's getting a bit too old for that?" Barty asked. "What if he resents it?"

"Oh, come on," Benny balanced Linus on her hip, kissing his black thatch of hair, "I'm cheated out of twenty month's worth of baby-talk, I'm going to catch up on it when I can. Yesh I will, Little Dude!" another kiss. Barty shrugged and, spotting his mother, sprinted towards her.

"Mum! Mum, I want to invite some friends over for the summer—where's Father?" He hugged her tightly, then looked around the platform.

Dahlia Crouch looked down at her son lovingly. "He's at work. He'll meet us at the theater tonight." She apologized silently to him, readjusting his Hufflepuff badge (pinned to his vest) with pride.

Meanwhile, Benedicte was leading little Linus back to their parents. "Well," she said, "I've got my trunk here, and I've got the Little Dude, so I'm ready to go home anytime."

Philomel hugged her daughter but chided, "I've told you not to call him Little Dude. He has a good name and he should wear it proudly. Linus Fortitude," she reminded the child, who stared up at her innocently and nodded.

"Oh, he'll grow into it," Benny said lightly. "Til then, he's the Little Dude."

"And you will grow out of nicknaming everything and everyone," her father scolded good-naturedly.

Benny hugged and kissed her father, then, "Auntie Dahlia, it's so good to see you." (Dahlia was technically her mother's cousin by marriage, not an 'Aunt,' but Benny had Aunts in limited supply.)

"We're goin' to dinner an' then the the-ter." Linus said solemnly to Barty, who responded, "Hey, little guy. Good to hear that."

"Barty," Modeste addressed the boy as he took up his luggage, "Philomel and I are looking forward to hearing about your adventures in the last quarter of school. I'm sure you were at the top of your class."

"Well, I wouldn't have passed my History of Magic exam without Benny's help, I know that much," Barty opened his bag and pulled out 'The Ballad of Lady Wren and Good Sister Helga,' handing it back to Benny. "Thank you again."

"No problem, 'cous."

"Benny's home!" Linus announced to the family.

"Hey, I think we noticed. Could I hold him for a bit?" Barty took the toddler from her father, and those two were the first to leave King's Cross Station.