Hello there!

Here begins the second volume of Kate's adventures! Let's start with some good news!

Hope you'll enjoy!

1. The letter with a green seal.

'And you will bring me Kate Whisper...'

Kate nearly choked on the deep breath of air she just took, her head sinking into the pillow and her eyelids opening widely on her grey eyes. A rather brutal awakening, unpleasant, just as the dream she just had. She gathered her thoughts, a few seconds, breathing feverishly, her eyes still heavy with sleep. Then, after a glance at the window, she rolled in her bed and gropingly grabbed the alarm clock on her bedside table. The lacklustre numbers on her old machine were indicating 8:24 am. Kate grumbled before putting the object back and gesticulated under her sheet, refusing to extricate herself from bed. However, she knew very well that she couldn't manage to sleep anymore...
Resigning in a sigh, she got up in clumsy steps on the creaking parquet and strolled about in her room towards the window before pulling the curtains. The bright light of summer dawn lightened up the small room that the night had rendered dusty, with small particles flying in the air. Kate turned her face from it, in a grimace of discomfort, a few seconds before noticing a bird on her tiny, rusty iron balcony. It wasn't a tit willing to sing its early ode, nor a robin begging for a piece of bread, but a Great Horned Owl standing solemnly, its feathered horns straight on its squared head. A smile broke Kate's face, her eyes still heavy:

'Goliath?'

Kate rose up the window frame and invited the owl to come inside; which he did after being begged several times, perching on a shelf. At his claws was hanging a small pretty letter. The quality of the parchment, marbled with golden glints, was such that Kate was now having no doubts about the sender. She detached the message and unfolded it. With each succeeding words, she felt her heart soothing with happiness. Then, she rushed into the corridor and climbed down the stairs like a whirlwind.
In the kitchen, lulled by the crackling of a radio, Grace was stirring with a wooden spatula, the eggs cooking in the frying pan, while Phil, sat at the table, was attentively reading the Daily Prophet he had just received. Her parents mustn't be awake since very long; she saw that by her father's coffee. Because, in front of him was his old magic mug on which a fire-breathing griffon was galloping. When the cup was empty or its content was becoming colder, the pattern of the legendary beast fell asleep in a peaceful slumber.
Kate entered the kitchen like a whirlwind, as nervous as a cat:

'You'll never guess what I just received!'

Her father gave her a mischievous look above his paper.

'Morning kiddo, did you sleep well on that 12th of August night? Did you have nice dreams? I did, thank you. It's always so nice of you to ask me how I'm going this morning, sweet pea; I appreciate your warm social standards. Do you want your English Breakfast? Your mother just put the water to boil.'

To remedy his sarcastic remark, Kate rushed towards him to offer him a kiss before doing the same to her mother.

'Sorry! But I'm so happy!'
'Well! You're very lucky to be so exuberant just after jumping out of bed', said Phil, surprised, while neglecting the Prophet. 'A lot of people would wish that... I first...'
'You received good news?' asked her mother, interested, as she served her fried eggs. 'Your letter from Hogwarts?'
'No, you're not even close! Maggie is inviting me to see the Quidditch world cup with her! That's awesome, isn't it?'

But as she was expecting a cheerful reaction from her parents, or at least a positive one, she found herself facing her mother's awkward smile, who didn't know much about Quidditch, and the flinching of her father's eyebrows.

'If I remember correctly... this year's world cup is taking place in Singapore...' breathed Phil, holding his griffon mug with his two hands.
'Y-yes', stammered Kate between fear and joy.

Phil adopted an awkward expression, a grimacing smile oddly not very reassuring.

'There's no way you're going to go there' he sniggered as he shook his head.
'What?!' choked Kate. 'B-but, dad! This is the Quidditch world cup! I can't miss it!'
'Ok, let me think a few seconds. Hmmm. No.'
'Your dad's right', intervened Grace coming towards the table while tightening the belt of her light blue dressing gown. 'You're still young. Singapore is on the other side of the world...! It's not the wisest idea.'
'Nothing's too far for wizards!' she replied. 'I'm sure there are fast ways to go there!'

She attacked with a contained rage the poor eggs on her plate, piercing the flabby membrane of the yolk which spread.

'You seem to forgot, dear daughter, that your age isn't ideal to go alone to that kind of festivities...'
'But I won't be! There will be Maggie and certainly her parents!'
'Is that supposed to reassure me?'
'Just come with me dad! I'm sure you will like it! You'll see; it will be awesome! Completely unforgettable!'
'Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you found a bag full of Galleons between yesterday and today!'
'Dad, listen to me, quit fooling around...'
'Oh. Well, okay.'

Phil's face froze in an expression so cold, his gaze intent by the sharp grey of his eyes, that Kate regretted her words.

'I'm listening to your arguments, cheeky monkey.'
'Maggie's parents are very... err... They can afford it! They can pay the trip for us! And the lodging house on the spot!'
'I don't want to depend on anybody for expenses', hurled Phil, serious as he pursed his lips. 'It's out of the question to let them pay us anything...'
'But Maggie told me they'd be okay with this...'
'It's I who isn't okay with this...! If we go, it would be with our money. Yet, as you noticed... we've not reached the point of renting a dragon for our vault in Gringotts... We even haven't enough to afford a legless house elf...!'
'You will have the occasion to go to another Quidditch world cup, sweetie', her mother reasoned her as she rubbed her shoulder. 'And not as far as Singapore...'
'B-but... it's Maggie who invited me!' claimed Kate, relentless and disappointed. 'I can't refuse!'
'If you want, I can answer her myself, she would understand it better', grumbled Phil as he swallowed a mouthful of coffee. 'In the meantime, it's not even possible for you to go... especially as the wizarding world remains dangerous and unpredictable for the moment...'

Seized by a rush of anger that flushed her face, Kate got up and, without even finishing her breakfast, left the table on those shouted words:

'In case you don't know dad, war is over! I have the right to live my life!'
'Oh, of course...'

The little girl got back to her room, drying some tears on her way. Puzzled, Phil sighed.

'She'll understand', said his wife as she shrugged her shoulders and sighed too. 'She's still too young to realize the reality of this world, even more the wizarding one.'
'Oh, I don't worry, she'll get over it.'

At this exact moment, like a brown arrow, Littleclaws, who had passed through the half-opened window in a peak of speed, wheeled around into the kitchen before landing on the table, her claws slipping on the wooden surface as she was trying to approach her master.

'It really is hygienic to see a bird that feed on mice's rotten carcasses, walking on the breakfast table', Grace teased her husband.
'Because you think there's a better way?'
'For the poor Muggles we are, it's called postal services. That saves us inconvenient squeals and feathers!'
'Don't listen to her', chuckled Phil to Littleclaws as he took the letter carrying the seal of the Ministry that the owl was bringing him. 'She only utters vilenesses...'
'Again and again!' said Grace with a laugh as she cleared the table.

Phil reviewed the letter addressed by the Ministry, more exactly by the Pest Sub-Division from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures: it was some information gathered by the wizards in order to direct him in the cases he would have to resolve on this day in the district he was responsible for as a Tracker. Incidents implying, most of the time, Muggles... Emergencies remained rare but it happened to Phil to be woken up in the middle of the night by a letter brought by Littleclaws, about a Banshee attack on an entire town full of Muggles. In those cases he had to react immediately, at the risk of finding themselves, the day after, with a scrolling banner in the Muggles' news about numerous worrying disappearances!

'Well, a Nogtail, it's been a while...!'
'That's all you have for today?'
'Oh, no, some other small utilities; imps invasion, a Niffler who attacked a jeweller's... The routine, my brave wife!'

Once he was ready, Grace joined him in the entrance hall and accompanied her goodbye kiss with a few words:

'Stop worrying, she's not mad at you... She'll understand your choice for her. Tonight it will be all ancient history and she'll jump at you when you come home...!'
'Who are you talking about?'
'Your daughter, big lug! I know you too well since all that time...'
'Oh, my apologies. For a moment I thought you were talking about my lover!'

Phil took the punch that his wife, amused as well as offended, gave him in the ribs with a smirk.

'Go, before I put my father's Muggle shotgun on your temple, vile wizard!'
'Yes, good day to you too, darling!'

Kate spent her morning brooding over in her bedroom in every way she could. She wrote many letters for Maggie but none of them was good enough for her, fearing that her friend would take bad her father's refusal, which she thought was legitimate. After all, the opportunity would come up again someday; she had an entire life to assist to a Quidditch world cup finale. She made this promise to herself.
The shy knock of her mother on the door extracted her from her thoughts.

'Want a game of draughts and some tea?' she proposed with a smile.
'Oh yes, why not...'

After all, she could leave this case aside for a moment. Perhaps her father would change his mind when he'd be back. Even though the chances were thin, Kate was still hoping.
She went down, her feet rebounding on the steps of the stairs, and joined Grace who was arranging the game board on the living room's coffee table. When she saw her mother placing the draughts, Kate remembered not so far memories. When war was raging and the cold days in the cellar were going by playing endless board games. And draughts had always been her mother's favourite. Kate however regretted not to be able to experiment the wizard version, where draughts swallows each other, releasing sometimes a satisfied burp.

'I take the red ones', she decided.
'Ok, then. I begin.'

Despite everything they lived together, Grace and her daughter never were confidantes. Kate always thought that her Muggle ignorance was making her closer to her father than her mother, who couldn't manage to understand her fully. Only games, like draughts, were able to loosen tongues.

'I hope my letter from Hogwarts will come quickly...' sighed Kate as she made her draught rebound on the board.
'You're looking forward to do shopping, I presume...!'
'And to go back there...!'
'That's good to see. When I think that, at your age, I hated the comeback. And I still do!'

Since the end of battles in the wizarding world, Grace had found a stable job and was teaching to young students around her daughter's age in a public school.

'Of course, learning magic is far more thrilling than working on maths!'
'Completely!'

Kate had a fit of rage, very soon dispelled, when Grace swiped all of her pieces in the destructive passage of her draught.

'Tell me, mom...'
'Yes?'
'How did you react, exactly, when you learnt magic was real? That wizards existed?'
'I had to believe it!' she chuckled. 'Your dad saved me from a Bowtruckle. At first, I was very suspicious. But, you know, when there's a young, handsome man like your father was; you're ready to believe anything...! I went so far as to provoke the creature that attacked me once again, just to see him again!'
'The magic of love-at-first-sight!' smiled Kate, dreamy.
'When you're a young Muggle girl and your life is dull, without magic, you dream of being a princess and finding a prince mounted on his white proud steed. Or a James Bond style handsome secret spy. I could believe anything, but certainly not to meet a wizard!'

While Kate was rearranging the draughts after this first game, which she lost, Grace fetched the teapot.

'I was far from the plans I had when I was younger', she resumed after she had served her daughter some tea. 'I admit it wasn't a peaceful life your father gave me! That's for sure. But I regret nothing. Except the fact that I wasn't a witch either...'
'You would have wanted to go to Hogwarts, mom?'
'Oh yes... Make the most of your luck...'

Even though Grace's smile was bright, Kate noticed the regret in her voice. She took advantage of her hesitation on her next move to slip a proposition:

'Why don't you come with me and dad to Diagon Alley for my purchases?'
'That's a moment you have to share with him. To wizards, their wizard moments.'

Kate was about to retort in order to convince her mother to accompany them, when a shadow crossed the ray of light coming from the large window of the living room in a sound of beating wings.

'An owl!' she exclaimed.
'At this time?' wondered Grace as she turned around on the sofa.

Kate jumped on her feet and ran to the window, which she lifted abruptly. The bird rushed into the room and made several tours, spreading its feathers in the air, before landing on the back of the seat Kate had been sitting on a few moments ago. It was a streaked owl, its rounded head framed with brown and its thorax speckled with black and white. To its leg was tied up a brown letter.

'That must be for your father...'
'No, mom...'

The green wax seal was engraved with a bone and a wand; a symbol Kate recognized immediately.

'It's from St Mugo's!'
'The hospital?'

Immediately, Grace worried and rushed towards her daughter who had just untied the envelope from the claws of the bird of prey, who screeched with satisfaction. Kate was shaking when she gave the letter to her mother. Was it the simple, usual letter informing about Eliot's state? Or was it to announce... that he was dead because of his too long sleep?
Apprehension pinning her heart, Grace removed the seal and unfolded the letter with haste, her daughter's anxious gaze fixed on her expressions. However, a smile broke her face.

'What is it, mom?'
'Eliot... he woke up!'

While Kate was collecting her thoughts, transfixed on the sofa, an immutable smile on her face, Grace was desperately trying to contact her husband.

'Why wizards can't have cell phones on them, like everyone?!' she raged. 'He must certainly have forgotten his somewhere, at the back of his damned car...'
'You're asking too much from a wizard, mom! I have an idea!'

Moved by her happiness, Kate went to her father's office, upstairs, at top speed, drumming against the steps. The room wasn't well-lit, bathed in dust, cold and bitter smell of paper, smoke and aged wood. In the corner was drowsing Littleclaws, who took refuge under her wings when Kate entered abruptly into the office.
She, then, started to search for a piece of parchment and a quill on her father's neglected desk, on which he had piled up such a huge chaos that the balance of each sheet of paper seemed to be holding by a thread. Researches about creatures' attacks, his orders of missions, ministry's letters, notes scribbled in a rush, maps of his district, a list of the future charged with crimes who will be sent to Azkaban... What?
Kate lingered on the parchment, which she deciphered, her nose nearly stuck on the letters. Dozens of names were written, by Phil's hand. Some had been crossed out. Such as Walden McNair's. Crossed off. Ratified. Sent to Azkaban on a one-way trip, housing included. Why her father, a year after the war, would draw up such unhealthy list, including the names of Death Eaters, criminals... Next to them, the reasons of their sentences. Some terms were recurrent: murder, torture, accomplice, subjection to the Imperius curse, delation... Words that were giving her creeps.
The piercing screech of Littleclaws, who was keeping a sharp eye on the young girl, diverted her from her thoughts. Grabbing a piece of blank paper and her father's eagle feather, she wrote a brief message:

"Eliot woke up. Come back home as fast as you can!

Kate."

She rolled the message, tied it up and hitched it up to Littleclaws leg, indifferent.

'Go!' ordered her master's daughter as she opened the door. 'Hurry up, find daddy!'

Without a squeal, the tiny Northern Saw-whet Owl flew like a shot outside and glided as she rose up into the grey sky, looking for Phil. Kate watched her go away and disappear in a black spot. It was a matter of minutes...

Indeed, less than an hour later, her father's black car parked in front of the house. His vehicle was just a cover for the neighbour Muggles to believe he was going to work every morning, while actually, he just stopped five hundred yards further, parked his car and apparated at will wherever through his district. Strangely, Phil developed a liking for Muggle driving and the comfort the leather seats, magically requilted, were offering. With this new phenomenon's arrival, called the Internet, he would soon not need to make an excuse up as it seemed more and more normal to work at home on a computer; the only machine Phil was still having a hard time to handle as he thought, the first time he saw it, it was a typically Muggle musical instrument...
Grace opened the entrance door before Phil even had the time to pull himself out his car. The latter seemed particularly nervous.

'Good', he squeaked. 'If that's a joke arose from Kate's frustration, that's not funny!'
'No, it's true! There, look!'

His wife stuck the letter from St Mungo's into his hands. As words went by, a smile stretched on his face.

'T-that's incredible! I can't believe it... Let's prepare our luggage; we're going to London immediately!'

In Kate's heart was crackling the same feeling that had inhabited her during her first trip to London for her purchases at Diagon Alley: a mix of joy, apprehension, questions and an awkward familiarity. After so many ordeals, she was about to see her cousin again, the only person close to her by age and blood. Two young wizards, the only ones of their generation in the family. She remembered their games when both of them weren't old enough to attend Hogwarts, their role plays where Eliot's magical soft toys were acting as students for their lectures. Before even sitting on the school benches, they only had one dream: to go there.

'I take 10 points from Hufflepuff, Mister Bear!' was claiming five year old Kate, authoritarian as she was pointing out the teddy bear in the front-row. 'Don't put your fingers in your nose! And I saw you put your booger into Miss Dolly's potion!'
'But, why you always take points to Hufflepuff since earlier?' Eliot was getting indignant.
'Because first, Hufflepuffs, they are useless!'
'That's not true!'
'They have nothing special! Yellow is ugly, the lady who created Hufflepuff was a fat woman who always thought about eating, and plus, their animal is a badger! That's lame!'
'Maybe you prefer Slytherins? They're mean and stupid! They have an earthworm for animal!'
'My daddy was in Slytherin and he is not mean and not ugly like you!' Kate was defending herself, red with rage.
'And me, my mummy was in Hufflepuff so you are not allowed to say Hufflepuffs are lame anymore!'

Those sorts of arguments had always been common practice between the two cousins. A kind of rivalry that started years ago, between an industrious big sister and a cunning little brother and that had carried on to the next generation. Until Eliot started Hogwarts a few months after the Dark Lord's return, at the end of the Triwizard Tournament that moved the entire country. Since Cedric Diggory's death and Eliot's compulsory order of residence, Kate had buried all her prejudices about Hufflepuff. She was persuaded he was finally home, where he would have been the most happy and blooming young wizard. He was the perfect representative of his blazon: kind, generous, mischievous and optimistic. But that was before the war... and the curse that had him laid up for two years...

Kate found again, with fascination, the crowded streets of London. During touristic bustles, Phil was pushing his daughter by her shoulder, avoiding her from being sucked up by all the visitors that came to discover the major places of the British capital during their summer holidays.

'Have you already been to St Mungo's, mom?'
'No. And your father never told me about it. You know him; he has a pet peeve about hospitals!'

Since he learnt the new, Phil had surprisingly been quiet, saying only rare words in the car as he was driving. Even though Kate often knew him playful and in a good mood, she never saw her father jump for joy or express strong emotions. And where Eliot's awakening was something deserving to be greeted with euphoria, Phil was just showing the expression of an ice tank.
Kate recognized the famous dirty shop window in which old dusty dummies were observing the passers-by, rigged out in antique outmoded clothes that weren't on the market anymore for twenty years. The lacking of a face on the big plastic dummies was reinforcing the embarrassment someone would feel if he looked at it too long. As during last Christmas holidays, Phil bent towards the window, stained by hand marks, and whispered:

'We're here to see Eliot Burbage.'

The slow gesture of the dummy provoked a shiver, both to daughter and mother, as it was inviting them to move forward.

'That's... horribly shabby!' swallowed Grace before her husband disappeared through the shop window.

The little girl grabbed her mother's hand and forced her to follow, head first in the window which fitted the shape of her face before changing her vision. Grace was taken aback as, in front of them, in the huge noisy entrance hall, future patients were passing by or waiting.

'I don't understand', was stammering an old wizard to a healer behind the reception desk. 'I only wanted to cast an innocent little Lumos and... my nose started to flash! Look! See?! When I get angry, it lights up!'
'Corridor on your right, service of Artefacts Accidents. Then, it will be the third door on your left, it will be indicated: "Wand backfiring". Think about buying a new one!'

As always, Phil passed in front of the queue and through the double-door separating the hall from the white deep entrails of the hospital. Kate quickly noticed the place had been renovated: there were no black spots on the wall anymore, no more damages and no more closed rooms. War had definitely been erased from St Mungo's. With white paint. The young girl was feeling her mother's shaking hand strongly squeezing hers between her fingers; Grace seemed fascinated and scared at the same time.

'Hmmmm, you look extremely pale, madam', said a portrait depicting a fat man in a brown doublet, making his pipe rebound as he articulated these words with his pinkie and fleshy lips above a greying goatee. 'Have you contracted the Troll's diarrhoea recently?'

'Is... Is that me you're talking to?' Grace immobilized in a sudden start.

She turned towards her husband who was ahead.

'Phil! There's... a painting... that's talking to me!'
'Well, answer it!' he retorted.

Grace's disturbed gaze met again the painting's one who was creating curls of white smoke taking the shape of dragonflies as they came out of his pipe.

'No, sir, thanks for your concern' she replied before resuming her walk, her head down, dragging little Kate who was very amused by the situation.
'Think, however, about drinking a decoction of bats' droppings, it may be bad for the breath, but it's excellent as prevention!'
'That's pretty insane!' whispered Grace in a wide smile to her daughter, admitting the situation was rather amusing.

And, as they were climbing the stairs, Kate ran into someone she wasn't expecting to see, just in front of the access door to a floor:

'Smethwyck?!'

The little girl, sitting on a step and her nose stuck in a book, straightened up suddenly, shaking the brown locks around her baby face, and opened wide eyes. Her schoolmate gave her a genuine smile.

'Gee! If I knew I would find you here!'
'Hello... Whisper...' mumbled Hygie with an imperceptible high-pitched voice, barely daring to look her in the eyes, before she got up while holding tightly her book against her.
'Why are you here?' asked Kate, interested.
'I help a bit... my father. I always do that... during holidays.'

Hygie had never talked for so long and Kate rejoiced, stretching her smile a bit widely. Then, she introduced the little girl to her mother:

'Mom, this is Hygie Smethwyck, she's in Ravenclaw.'
'Nice to meet you, Hygie', smile Grace as she shook hands.
'She's the most talented of our class! You should have seen the vase she transfigured during last year's tests! That was incredible!'

Hygie's face blushed suddenly as the little girl tightened her grip around her book.

'Is that true? Well, I'm glad to hear that! Err, Kate... I think your father lost us! We'd better catch him up!'

After briefs goodbyes with her schoolmate, Kate resumed her climb of St Mungo's' circular stairs. There was an unhealthy and disturbing atmosphere reigning on the fourth floor. The air was carrying along a whiff of madness, corrupted magic and sick minds. Like an incubator of unreasonableness.

'Where have you been?' wondered Phil, stopped in the middle of the corridor because he surely noticed his wife and daughter weren't following him anymore.
'We ran into one of Kate's friends, we've been a bit held up...'

When Grace reached him, Phil felt she was quite nervous so he grabbed her hand to reassure her as violent screams resounded from one of the nearby rooms.

'Eliot's here?' asked Grace as she distinguished shadows through the opaque window of the door. 'But... it's a mental hospital!'
'That's the floor for spells that turned badly, mom', Kate explained to her in a low voice as she was, herself, not very reassured by the place. 'People who became mad because of torture, because of the war. Those who didn't woke up, like Eliot...'

Some opened doors were allowing them to see wizards busy with their demented mysticism or their absent thoughts, which they were observing, posted in front of the white light of the window. When a healer, who was taking care of one of them, saw them passing by through the corridor and caught them up.

'Philippus Whisper?'

Kate immediately recognized the young trainee she met a few months ago, wearing squared glasses and a blonde mop of hair.

'That's exact.'
'Hello, sir, we already met, I think', he pointed out as he shook hands, before briefly saying hello to Grace and Kate. 'I'm Asclepios Sting. It's I who was in charge of Eliot before he woke up.'
'So that's true? Eliot woke up?'
'Indeed, he did. Follow me; I will guide you to his room.'

The healer took the lead of the small group and Kate seemed to be counting each step separating her from her cousin. Her heart was beating at the surface of her half-opened lips.

'How did it happen?' Phil asked in a deep voice, his eyebrows frowned.
'Nothing plausible could explain Eliot's awakening.'
'Plausible? That means you have something crazy in mind, don't you?'
'Well... Eliot regained consciousness yesterday, at 11:54 am exactly.'
'I don't follow you...'
'The eclipse, dad!' exclaimed Kate who understood. 'It was the solar eclipse!'

The 11th of august 1999 saw, passing through the sky, a black curtain that swallowed a big part of Europe; one of the most spectacular total solar eclipse the world had known for centuries. The day had been swallowed by the deepest darkness; night had reclaimed her lands for a few, clandestine minutes.

'The masters of astromancy never found the true properties of solar eclipses on magic, but some of them suppose that the interaction of the moon and the sun emits a magnetic field that influences magic... Perhaps did it free Eliot's spirit and allow him to wake up!'
'The most important thing is that he is...' sighed Phil who didn't believe a single word of the healer's hypothesis.

Yet, when they reached the Cliodna room's door, he held Asclepios up a few moments:

'One last question...'

His grey eyes turned darker and Kate saw many fears passing through.

'Eliot... is he aware for his parents?'
'You mean... that they're not...'

The trainee blemished and stammered:

'He asked us but... he thinks they're still alive. I'm not in the best position to explain to him what happened, especially as I don't know the circumstances of the incident...'

Kate noticed the contraction of a muscle in a shadow at the corner of her father's squared jaw, indicating his annoyance.

'You did well', breathed Phil. 'Can we come in?'
'Of course!'

Without adding a single word, Phil opened the door and entered the tepid, almost cold room, followed by his daughter who nearly crashed into his legs as she moved forward in fast steps. In the first bed, a young man sitting suddenly turned his head, dragged away from his contemplation through the distant and bright window. All dressed up in white, in a hospital gown, a bracelet on his wrist with his name on it. Eliot always had these wild eyes and this characteristic expression; lips half-opened and a hanging-chin. Numerous times during their childhood, Kate hadn't hesitated from calling him "a mentally defective like the Muggles" during their quarrels, because of his dull expression stuck on his face, like a mask. But now that she was finally seeing again this face that had haunted so many of her nightmares, the little girl strangely felt thrilled. Eliot was back...

'Phil?' he wondered.
'Hey, hi, kiddo! Happy to see you fit as a fiddle!'
'Eliot!'

Kate couldn't hold herself any longer and rushed towards him to fly into his arms.

'We missed you so much!' she whispered as she hugged him tightly.

Taken aback, Eliot had a hiccup before he stared at her when she stepped away from him.

'K-Kate? You've changed so much!'
'Let's say you hibernated a long time, Sleeping Beauty!' joked Phil as he took place on one of the chairs.
'Healers told me I've been unconscious for... two years! Is that true?'
'That's a long time, isn't it?'
'What happened?' he started to get into a panic. 'The war? You-Know-Who? And my parents, where are they?'

Kate's emotions stuck in her throat at the idea of making dark memories, she had buried deep inside, to come up. But she was also feeling the still recent grief of her aunt and uncle, of which Eliot wasn't aware... Grace joined her and put a loving hand on her shoulder, as if she had read into her thoughts and was trying to bring her the comfort of her motherly presence.

'The war is over', declared Phil, more serious, while joining his hands on his laps. 'It's been more than a year now... There's no more Dark Lord, no more Death Eaters, no more hunts, no more of anything like that... The wizarding world is free.'

A fugitive smile stretched on Eliot's quivering lips, before he repeated:

'And my parents...? Why didn't they come to see me? They certainly know I'm awake!'

Kate swallowed with difficulty, short of breath. Should they tell him? Wouldn't it add more pain to tell him, while in hospital bed just after waking up from a two years coma, that his parents died? Torture. Cruelty of truth.

'Come, Kate', whispered her mother as she was gently pulling her by the shoulder after she shared a glance with her husband. 'Let's go grab something to drink for Eliot.'

The last gaze Kate shared with Eliot shattered her heart. She was reading in his lifeless eyes the feeling that they were hiding something from him. And he didn't want his cousin to go so soon, to abandon him once again...
Mother and daughter left the room, their throats tight. Yet, they stayed behind the door without saying a word, their faces growing sombre. Kate was staring at the shadows moving behind the rippling window inlayed into the door. She feared the moment to come when her cousin's life would turn upside down...
First there were screams. Going crescendo. And a dreadful crash, shrouded with yells. Kate's heart was tearing apart as she heard her father trying to calm Eliot down, shattered in noisy cries. Her own tears came up at the edge of her eyes before she snuggled up against her mother who wrapped her arms around her.
War may have been over. For long. But its consequences would stay forever engraved in everyone's memories. Burnt in the children's flesh... All of that, for the glory of a man with no name.