23. There's an Answer in Everything

There was comfort in the woods. Rremly and his family were very lucky to have their cottage so deep in the woods where it was quiet and peaceful, which were two things that Alastor was not. Shafts of golden sunlight filtered in through the trees and the leaves gently rustled in the light breeze. There was a winding stream; the sound of it so peaceful. There was solace in the sound and he followed it, coming to sit upon the bank. He watched the moving water, wondering if he'd be able to stop his thoughts if he stared at the water long enough.

It seemed to work for the first several minutes, but as kept staring he began to see things in the water. He saw his mother atop the balcony of their home. It was nightfall and the moon shone on her fair skin, illuminating her white blonde hair. It made her shine as if she were a light in the distance. She was gazing at the stars as she did every evening. Alastor knew this because he'd seen her up there whenever he took his usual evening walk about the grounds before going to bed. She'd always looked so coldly graceful, standing tall and still, eyes focused on the stars above.

Seeing her now, Alastor noticed something—something he'd missed every time he'd seen her. She looked just as Thomas had looked not so long ago when he'd been talking about Aurelius. Calla looked sad, lonely even. There was no sign of her haughty grace or the coldness that coated her like a second skin. She even looked a little lost. Who was this woman? She was nothing like his mother.

I shouldn't say that. I don't know my mother at all, and I hardly know my brother any better... and now I'll never get the chance to know her.

Alastor plucked up a small stone, turning it over in his hands. It was smooth; the water had worn away its hardness. He closed his eyes, learning its features, size, and weight. How long he sat there turning it over and over in his hands, he couldn't tell, but at length he opened his eyes. His mother's image was no longer in the water. Instead, he heard the fluttering of wings over head and looked up in time to spot Rremly's lovely barn owl, Cinnamon, coming down toward him. Rising, Alastor pocketed the stone and held out his arm just in time for her to land on. She hooted and spread her wings, but didn't take flight.

"Came to show me the way back?" Alastor smiled, tracing his finger along her wing. She hooted twice and flapped her wings once, obviously a 'yes'. "All right, lead the way." She took flight and he followed after her.

I suppose I must have gone farther into the woods than I thought.

By the time Alastor came within sight of Cider Cottage it was twilight. Rremly was waiting for him in the garden. He was the only one waiting, and Alastor was glad for that. He hadn't wanted to come back and find everyone waiting for him, to see the pity, worry, and concern in their eyes; not that he wasn't grateful for their obvious care and for everything they'd done for him, but he just wasn't used to having so many people caring for him and wanting to do things for him. It was overwhelming.

Cinnamon flew straight over to Rremly who had his arm out. "You did wonderfully," said Rremly, smiling warmly as he stroked her and offered her an Owl Treat. "Thank you." She hooted after enjoying her treat and she gave him an affectionate nip before flying off.

Patient as ever, Rremly waited until Alastor stopped before him to take his hand. He gave a light squeeze.

"All right?"

"Yeah," and he was, all things considered. "Though, I'm a bit surprised there was no search party."

That got a quiet little laugh from Rremly. "They wanted to go after you," he said, twining their fingers together, "but I knew you just wanted a little time and space for yourself. I stopped them… well, except for Stew and Bella. Dumbledore had to coax them to come back."

It touched him deeply that Stewart and Belladonna were so concerned, but he was very glad Dumbledore had gotten them to turn back. Rremly was absolutely right, as per usual. He'd needed that time to himself.

"How is it that you always know?" Alastor had to ask, taking Rremly's other hand into his, twining their fingers without a conscious thought.

Rremly's brows furrowed only so slightly, "Know what?"

"Things…" Alastor tried to define what it was that he was really asking about. "You always know how someone's feeling or thinking. You know the right thing to say or do. You just know things- things you couldn't possibly know or things even you don't fully understand."

There was a few moments' pause in which Rremly gazed at him, a small smile forming on his lips. "Let's just say it runs in the family."

"What does?"

"Knowing. Well, that's what we in the family call it. It's really called Clear Knowing or otherwise Claircognizance, which is a term more used by muggles," he explained patiently, the smile still playing upon his lips. "It's a feeling of 'just knowing'- the ability to know something without a physical explanation as to why you know it."

Alastor turned it over in his mind. It seemed so simple, but it couldn't be, could it? "How does it work?"

"It doesn't happen every moment of every day," Rremly laughed quietly. "It's not as if I can make myself know the answers to an exam or the passwords to the other common rooms or other places. It's just that we know the things that are important and that matter at the time or that might matter in the future."

"But you did it right now- you knew what I was thinking when I asked."

Rremly shook his head to himself, his expression one of fondness and amusement. "No, I didn't know what you were thinking," he met Alastor's gaze, "but I did venture a guess from your expression."

"Is that another part of the ability? Being able to read people so well?" Alastor couldn't help his curiosity.

"No, that's my own natural talent, but really, anyone can do it," smiled, Rremly. "It's all in the eyes, facial expression, and body language. It's also being able to read between lines- to take careful note and understand what was said and what wasn't. Another aspect is being able to anticipate what another might be thinking or feeling or what they might do from all the things you've taken note of and studied."

Anyone can do it. Was that really true? "How can someone learn to do that?"

"You mean, how can you learn?"

Alastor stared at him.

"Your eyes gave it away," Rremly said gently. "I also know you. Given everything that's happened, I can see and understand why you'd want to acquire this ability."

Dropping his gaze for a moment, Alastor felt his eyes become moist, as if tears were on their way. Would he ever be able to stop the tears?

"I just want to see and understand people the way you do," he could hear the sadness in his voice. "Maybe if I'd been able to I could have known more about my brother… and my mother."

A moment later he was drawn into a warm embrace. It was comforting… so comforting. If only he could be hugged like this always. Rremly's cheek felt like satin against his, and his fine hair was silk over his skin. The warmth from his body filled Alastor, almost completely, and he kept his arms around Rremly's waist. He had no desire to let go.

"I'll teach you," Rremly eventually spoke, his voice quiet, almost a whisper.

"Thank you," Alastor drew back just enough to see his face. Rremly's amber eyes were lit and glistening. A single tear slid free. He kissed it away.

Looking at Rremly now, eyes flitting briefly down to his soft full lips, he was reminded of something. He remembered a kiss. He remembered Rremly's lips, warm and moist. He hadn't thought anything of it at the time. He'd been so close to death and he'd been afraid, but there was Rremly. He'd been so immensely glad to see him, to be held by him. Those butterfly kisses had eased the fear and anxiety within Alastor. There had been comfort and safety in those kisses. He wondered now if there would be something different if he were to kiss Rremly now. He truly wanted to know, not out of simple curiosity, but because he wanted there to be something different this time.

He wasn't certain who leant in first; that hardly mattered. What mattered was that they both wanted it. What mattered was that when their lips met—Rremly's lips parting, allowing Alastor more contact—there was something different in the kiss. It was not about one giving something to the other. It was about something shared. There was a sense of comfort in the kiss, but there was something else in the kiss; something that caused his heart to skip a few beats. Alastor couldn't describe it. He didn't want to.

A window opened overhead. "Supper's just about ready, you two." Holden called out to them, attracting their attention long enough for them to see him smile and waggle his eyebrows before he closed the window and disappeared, leaving Alastor puzzled over why he wasn't more concerned about Holden's having seen them.

"They know about us," Rremly told him, his smile calm and gentle.

Alastor arched an eyebrow, "Do they know or do they know?"

Laughing quietly, Rremly's smile turned just a bit playful. "What do you think?"

"They know."

"Spot on."

"I don't think I'll ever get used to it," Alastor admitted with some amusement.

"I hope you never do."

"Why?"

"I like seeing the wonder on your face," Rremly beamed.

He couldn't help the laugh. Good thing, as I don't think I really wanted to try to get used to it anyway.

Rremly slowly released Alastor, but didn't step back. "We should get inside, but before we do," he reached into his pocket and withdrew a letter, handing it to Alastor, "you should read that."

Accepting the letter, Alastor couldn't help wondering if it was more bad news. He reluctantly opened it and found it was a brief letter from Stewart. Why does he feel the need to write to me when he's here? Reading through it, he realized the reason why. The Pomfreys were leaving tomorrow for Dublin to visit and stay with relatives for the rest of the summer. The trip wasn't only for the purposes of visiting family; it was also something of a punishment for Stewart. His parents wanted him to understand how his actions had nearly cost him the life of a friend. For the duration of the trip Stewart wouldn't be able to send or receive letters from Alastor or anyone else. The idea was that being away without contact would simulate part of how it would feel if he'd lost a friend.

Yet, he was surprised to find that Stewart wasn't upset with the decision. He welcomed it and felt he completely deserve the punishment. As for Belladonna, she'd been given the chance to go with them, as they were her hosts, but she'd declined. She felt, like Stewart, that it was a deserved punishment and her presence would defeat the purpose. Instead, she'd accepted the Redgraves' offer to stay with them for the next two weeks until she'd have to return home and prepare for the new term. He felt some slight relief, however, when he came to the last lines of the letter. Mr. and Mrs. Pomfrey would be coming by in the morning to bring Belladonna and allow Stewart and Poppy a chance to say goodbye to everyone.

Sighing, Alastor folded the letter up and slipped it into his pocket. "Have the others gone, too?"

"Yes. Professor Ellerhone felt it was too overwhelming to have everyone around," said Rremly. "She did say that she'd come by again, likely next week, to see you and Aurelius. She also said that she, Dumbledore, and Morrigan will do their best to keep you and Aurelius out of all the legal stuff—hearings and such—though, you might have to attend at least one of the hearings to make a statement, since your brother can't."

Alastor couldn't help giving in to another sigh. "Some summer…" He wondered if this was what his third year was going to be like: tumultuous, unpredictable, and maddening.

It was cold. The air was crisp, as if it were winter and someone had left the window open. Alastor opened his eyes and looked to the window. It was closed. He sat up with a frown. Why was it so cold? Rremly was still asleep beside him, which was quite strange as Rremly always had the knack of waking whenever Alastor or anyone else did, or pretty much whenever something wasn't right. He reached over to wake him, his fingers barely touching Rremly's shoulder when he stopped and drew back his hand. Something told him not to wake him.

"Alastor."

He froze when he heard that clear quiet voice and caught the scent of jasmine. She always loved to wear jasmine perfume. Alastor, with his heart pounding hard in his chest, turned his gaze toward the voice. The sight of her elicited a gasp.

"Mother?"

Calla stood beside his school trunk, straight across from him. She wore a resplendent free flowing gown of green and black silk with a matching cloak. There was a thin bloody gash along her temple and some streaks of blood along her face. This must have been how she'd looked upon her death.

"Mother, say something please," he felt so little and so lost.

She looked at him long, her lips never moving to speak. Her expression was carefully studied, but her eyes spoke of sadness, loss, and regret. She raised her hand and made a slight gesture, coaxing him to come to her.

Quickly getting out of bed, he went to her. When he was standing before her, she lowered her hand. Once again she gazed at him. It truly unnerved him.

"What is it?" He implored her, tears welling in his eyes. Why wouldn't she speak? "What do you want?"

In a moment tears were glistening in her eyes, too. She stared at him a little longer and then turned and dropped her gaze, looking away from him.

"Mother, please!" Alastor cried in frustration.

His plea elicited no reaction from her. She remained still and silent, her eyes still gazed downward. Why was she suddenly ignoring him? He kept looking at her, miserable and desperate to have her look at him again. That was when he noticed that she wasn't just looking away. She was staring at something. Her eyes narrowed and she seemed to stare more intently. Alastor followed her gaze.

He looked down and saw his trunk. Frowning, he wondered what was so important about his trunk when suddenly the lock clicked, unlocking itself. Alastor gasped and quickly looked up at his mother to see she was finally looking at him again. Calla met his gaze, gave him a slight nod, and disappeared.

"No! Mother, come back!" Alastor cried out, waking himself instantly. Frantically he looked around for her, not yet registering the fact that Rremly was also awake, stroking his arm in a clear effort to calm him down. Throwing himself out of bed, he continued to look wildly around until his gaze fell on the trunk. It was still locked. Rremly came to stand beside him, holding the gas lamp he'd lit and Alastor's wand which he held out. Alastor didn't have to ask what to do. He took the wand, knelt down, and touched the tip of his wand to the lock. The lock clicked and he opened the trunk.

The first thing that caught his notice was a painting, a blank painting that is. He removed it and held it upright and caught the name Aurelius Alisander Moody engraved at the bottom of the gold frame. Alastor stared at it, brows furrowed.

"That's odd. Why would he pack this—"

He fell silent when Rremly held out two small volumes: one gold and the other white, neither of which belonged to him. Alastor took them, opening the gold one first. The pages were blank—every single one of them. There wasn't even a name written on the inside cover. Frowning once again, he opened the white volume to find that it, too, was devoid of writing.

"This doesn't make sense," Alastor sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Why would he give me these blank books?"

Rremly touched his arm. "Those aren't blank books."

"What are they, then?"

"They're diaries."

"But they're blank. Why give me blank diaries?"

"That's it exactly," Rremly smiled. "Why would he give you blank diaries?"

Alastor blinked and stared at him in confusion. "Yeah, isn't that what I just asked?"

"Yes, but that's where the answer is." Rremly shook his head. "Think about it. Why would he give you blank diaries unless they weren't blank?"

"Rrem, that really doesn't make any sense."

"It does if the writing's been hidden—"

"By a charm," Alastor finished. Now, it made sense. Why didn't that occur to me?

"You've never used diaries. You never felt the need to write anything down and hide it." Rremly explained patiently. "You kept all your secrets here," he lightly touched his fingertip to Alastor's temple.

He rolled his eyes. "Let me guess, my face gave it away?"

Rremly merely smiled, and that was answer enough.

"So, Aurelius gave me both his diaries to discover what he'd hidden?" He mused to himself.

"Only one of those belongs to Aurelius."

"Which one, then?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Obviously not, if I'm asking you."

Rremly laughed quietly. "Do you know what your brother's name means?"

Where did that come from? "Of course I do, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Think about it," came the patient reply.

"My brother's name means 'golden'—"Alastor rolled his eyes, "Oh, of course!"

He felt Rremly's hand resting over his wrist. Looking over, he saw Rremly looking so pleased.

"Now, the white one," said Rremly. "Who does it belong to?" His voice was quiet and encouraging. "You know this. Just take a good look at it."

Alastor's gaze dropped to the white volume. He held it up closer. White… does that mean anything? Looking hard at the book, he turned it over in his hands a few times. It could have been that the light hit the front cover just right or it could have been the fact that he was looking so closely now, but either way, he caught a glimpse of a design. It was so faint and subtle, but it was there. It was a flower, a familiar flower.

I've seen this flower before! They were always around the house. Mother loved growing them as well as several other flowers: gardenia, magnolia, carnations, jasmine, and roses—which were all white flowers…

A sense of tightness took hold of his throat as he touched the flower design. "Mother loved white flowers… especially this one."

"You see? There's an answer in everything." Rremly said quietly. "Do you know the name of that flower?" From the look in his eyes, Alastor could tell he already knew the answer.

"Some sort of lily," he sighed. "Can't remember which."

"It's a calla lily."

My mother's name… Closing his eyes against the tears, Alastor gripped the diaries tightly. "Why did he give me these things?"

"You know the answer to that."

I can't take much more of this. He threw the diaries back into the trunk with so much force that it caused the lid to slam down with a good thunk.

"He thought he was going to die and needed me to know something…"

"…and he gave you the painting so that he could still talk to you and be a part of your life."

Alastor merely nodded as he re-opened the trunk and placed the painting back inside. "Whatever it is he and Mother wanted me to know can wait." He rose and set aside his wand. "I can't do this now. Not tonight."

"I don't think she meant for you to unravel the mystery and uncover all the secrets in one night," Rremly wrapped an arm around him. "I think she just wanted you to know where to look for the answers. I also know there are other parts to the puzzle in there."

"You know, you're worse than Dumbledore."

"No, I don't think so," Rremly mused, playful and thoughtful at the same time. "Though, perhaps I will be someday."

"It wouldn't surprise me," came Alastor's dry remark.

"We really should get back to sleep." Laughing quietly, Rremly propelled him toward the bed. "Something tells me the next week is going to be very busy."