Three Gifts

"You were the one who made the vocan orbis?" Imogen asked. Answers! Hal had answers! She could find out everything! "What about my mum? Do you know where she is?"

"Vo-what?" Hal looked at her like she was an idiot.

"What you just did there," Imogen pointed towards his hands. "Vocan orbis."

Hal rolled his eyes. "If you've been looking things up in wizarding books, they have it all wrong. I sent a call out to you."

"A call?"

"It summons a person you're looking for."

"So why didn't you tell me about this days ago?"

Hal leaned against a tree, folding his arms. He had that same look as that first night on the train, the one that seemed as though he was sizing her up. "I wasn't sure you're the one I sent for. Look, it's a lot to explain, but we have a few days before we get back to the clan anyway."

"The what?"

Hal let out an exasperated breath. "We just have to get going. So let's get back to the camp and let them know we're off." He turned around and took a steady pace.

Imogen waited for a minute, thinking through what he just said. Of everyone, Hal made her most nervous. Paolo came in second, though she'd gotten used to him by now.

"No time to waste, Snow White," he shouted behind him, continuing.

This was why you came in the first place, Imogen reminded herself as she bent down to grab the basket and follow. She ran her hand through her hair, using a spell to finish cleaning and drying it before she trotted after Hal.

No one seemed surprised when they said they were going. "Good luck to you," Ennis said, still sitting back against a tree trunk with her book in hand. Paolo and his girl were back, no longer wrapped around each other. Whatever they'd been doing—and Imogen thought she had a pretty good idea—they would leave with their groups tomorrow without a care in the world. Imogen thought of James and whether he would have dismissed her so easily. His words rang in her mind as a painful reminder that he had. If only she could forget about him so easily.

Hal lead Imogen as they made their way back to the trainyard. Théo gave them a rundown of the schedule for the next two hours. "We aren't taking another train," Hal said when they were out of range.

"Then why are we going this way?"

"It's the best place to make and follow a call. Mind you, we still have a two day hike or so once we get close, so I hope you're ready for that."

"I'm confused," Imogen said. "Follow—"

"A call, yes," Hal replied. "It's becoming quite obvious no one ever told you about this." He stopped and looked at her. "The gran story was horse shit wasn't it?"

Imogen swallowed. "It happened to a friend of mine."

"And your parents never told you they were Gypsies?"

"My parents died when I was eleven. We were all kept under the Imperius Curse so I don't remember anything before they died. They may have told me. "

Hal's look of incredulity turned to one Imogen wasn't sure how to interpret. Sympathy, perhaps, or understanding. Something almost crestfallen. "That explains a lot. And they lived in London when they died?"

"No," she said. "I had a family who took me in for a while."

"Are they looking for you?"

"Maybe," she answered honestly. After leaving Paris it took two days before she felt she had succeeded in avoiding any more notice from the Wizarding world. It helped that she was travelling with muggles. But perhaps they had given up on her. She was almost of age, after all. They had no reason to waste time and energy on her.

"Well they're shit outta luck once we get to where we're going."

"Where are we going?"

Hal looked around, taking a breath and scratching his head. "Maybe you do need to know some things before we go," he said. He grabbed her by the elbow and guided her into the protection of the trees. He found a large rock and let go of Imogen as he sat. "First, don't trust what you know from wizards and never default to that around Gypsies. Whatever spells you know, they don't call them the same thing."

"But they are witches and wizards, right?"

"They have magic, if that's what you mean. But they don't consider themselves that and it would be an insult if you said so," Hal said. "They make their own wands and live in their own society."

"You don't need a wand, though."

"No, you don't need a wand. You're a caster." Imogen rubbed at her forehead, confused. "Gypsies… they don't all have magic. But it's better to be without magic as a Gypsy than as a wizard. There's this whole hierarchy among wizards, part of which means that if someone is born without magic, they're outcasts. Squibs. Not with the Gypsies. Magic and non-magic work together in large clans, building their own colonies. Most of them have at least the basic magic skills, but in some families runs a… brand of magic. You're a caster. You don't need a wand to use your magic, which also generally affords you more control and less restrictions than what wizards have to abide by."

Imogen thought of instances of surprise from McGonagall during their lessons and the times when she had tried to explain to James and Ginny what it was like when she was doing wandless magic. It was like she could sense the world by how it felt beneath her hands, manipulating the matter around her. There were times she did things she didn't even realize. When Fritz died, her emotions seemed to bleed out of her in an instant, and when she wailed for the battle around her to end, it did. Those they had fought were released from the Imperius Curse controlling their actions. Imogen nodded that she understood. At least, she was getting a better idea. "And that makes you—"

"A caller," Hal replied. "Like my mother. She raised my sister and me in the highlands and taught us both how to use it."

"The vocan orbis?"

"That's an obnoxious name, stop using it," Hal demanded. "They're calls. Callers are able to consider the person they want to summon and send a call in their direction. It's a form of transport, too, so I can make a call that will take us as close to the Gypsy colony as possible."

"Transport? But… each time I got close the… call… it would leave."

"Did you touch it?" Imogen nodded and Hal scoffed. "Why didn't you use your magic?"

It suddenly seemed like the obvious thing to try, but Imogen just clenched her teeth together and huffed. "It's not like anyone gave me instructions for the strange green light that showed up."

"Well, Snow White, you could have saved yourself and me a lot of hassle if you'd figured it out. That's why I didn't know if it was you or not. The call only works for the person it's intended for. Touching it is what a muggle would try, so it disappears when that happens."

"How did you know who I was to make the call work?"

"I didn't have to know who you were, though it's easier if you know the person. The seer told me what she wanted and I travelled until I could sense it close enough to send a call. I was in Northern France for a few weeks trying to get you."

"What's a seer and what does she want with me?"

"A seer is what it sounds like. It's someone who can perceive what others cannot. The one who sent me is Sabina. She's sensed you the last few years and felt it was time you joined the clan."

"Why?"

Hal looked away from her and shrugged. "I just followed orders," he said, looking back at her.

Imogen was trying to take this all in. Caster, caller, seer… she could keep that straight. "And what about my mum?" she asked, looking back at him. Her heart pounded. A bridge between life and death, the book had said. Was her mother waiting for them with this clan?

"What about her? I thought you said she was dead?"

"She came to me in dreams," Imogen said. "She… the call… it became her. She sang to me."

"Well then I was wrong," Hal said, leaning back and considering what she just said. "Only your father was a Gypsy."

"How do you know that?"

"The calls use influencers—people you're thinking of that might convince you to follow—but it can't use Gypsies. Living or dead."

"Why not?"

"Not sure, actually," Hal admitted. "It just doesn't happen."

There was a strange mix of excitement and sadness in the information for Imogen. She didn't realize how much stock she'd placed on finding her mother, but it was almost like losing her all over again. Still, she hadn't known anything about her parents and now she was headed back to where her father was from. If not directly, then the home of his people.

"So we're going back to Belarus," Imogen said after digesting everything.

"Belarus? Why on earth would we go to Belarus?"

"In the book it said the origins of vocan orbis started—"

"Calls are a Gypsy gift and the origins of the Gypsies don't follow the boundaries of modern cartography. You have to stop believing everything you read."

Imogen would have to get used to not saying terms until she learned them from Hal. She could only hope there was someone nicer that could help her with this when they got to wherever they were going.

"Now that you've had a primer," Hal said, pushing himself to his feet, "it's time to go. There will be time to answer any other questions you have on the way."

Lorcan stumbled into the Potter's living room, catching himself on the edge of their couch as books tumbled from his arms.

"You alright?" Lily asked, standing from one of the armchairs and diving down to help pick everything up.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm good," he said, feeling his face heat up. Lorcan spent the whole morning at his grandfather's house next door.

As opposed to Grandpa Scamander (who'd declared the information insufficient), Grandpa Lovegood scanned the shelves, pulling one book after another. "It might be a Swaying Sorcan or possibly a Heavenly Halo, which is a great sign of luck." This went on for a while until Lorcan told him thank you and ducked out before he could overload him. When he got back to his room, Lorcan divided out the books that had some promise and checked with Lily that he was okay to come over.

"What's Imogen been up to today?"

"She's spending time with that dark haired bloke," Lily said. There was an unsteadiness to her voice and Lorcan wondered if, for all her talk, Lily would be upset if things didn't work out between Imogen and her brother. "They've been talking and walking around the woods."

"More of the same?"

"Seems like," Lily said. "I'm more interested if you found out anything."

"Lots, but I'm afraid it won't be useful," Lorcan said.

"Let's do this in my room," Lily said. "If someone comes home early, it will be easy enough for you to hide in my closet."

Lorcan didn't argue, but could already imagine Ginny opening the closet door to find him in there. He saw only the potential for apocalyptic consequences, even though Lily seemed completely unconcerned. Her room was a vivid green with yellow curtains. There were posters plastered all over the place, some of bands, others of various Quidditch players and teams—almost all of those ones were signed.

"You have a signed poster of Howard Nettles?" Lorcan said in awe.

"Yeah," Lily said. "My mum writes for the whole league, remember?"

"Oh, right," Lorcan responded. He loved his parents, but neither of them had a job with cool benefits like complete access to the entire roster of Quidditch players. "Your room colors for the Harpies?"

"Of course," Lily said. "I keep going back and forth on whether I'll do a trial after I graduate. It'd be cool to be on the team like Mum, but it's supposed to be nearly impossible."

"You could do it," Lorcan said.

"It would also be a lot of pressure, to be honest. Kind of like James trying to be an auror. Who knows. Maybe I'll just go with my backup plan of stripping." Lorcan's head turned quickly to Lily, who was looking out of the corner of her eye with a smirk. His face went hot for the second time and looked away. "I'm joking, Lorcan! Loosen up a little."

He tried to smile, but by the way she laughed, his smile didn't hide his prior shock at what she said. "Um, should we look through the books?"

They both settled onto Lily's bed—Lily laying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows with her legs up in the air from the knee, ankles crossed. Lorcan tried to keep as much distance in case someone did come in and see them together. Each grabbed different books and sat in silence, flipping through pages of information, only talking when they came onto something that might be useful. "Wait! Here!" Lily exclaimed. "Oh, no… sorry, this is just a fairylights spell for garden parties."

"Well, this one is a lantern spell," Lorcan brought up nearly half an hour later. "But it's meant to be stationary, not to move."

Lily blew her hair out of her eyes, then flipped dramatically on her back, letting the book she had just finished with drop to the ground. She reached into her pocket, pulling out the mirror and holding it above her face at arm's length. "Do you think Peregrine might be able to find her? If I sent an owl?"

"Maybe," Lorcan replied. He adjusted himself so that he was laying the opposite direction as Lily, but his head was next to hers, looking at the mirror. Imogen was walking through woods, it looked like. She would say something occasionally. Lorcan recognized the expression that followed these moments of talking. Imogen's mouth was set straight, eyes focused at some unknown spot in front of her, and her head tilted just slightly. She was taking in new information. Understanding something. It was the same look she wore a lot when they first were getting to know each other and Lorcan was explaining a principle or spell to her. Lorcan turned his head, watching as Lily watched the mirror. He swallowed. Their faces were so close. His heart suddenly raced, though Lily didn't seem to notice.

"I think I'll try," Lily said. "Maybe she'll be ready to tell me what she's looking for."

Lorcan opened his mouth to reply when Lily bolted upright. "The book!" she shouted.

It took a moment for Lorcan to recover, propping himself up on his elbows. "What book?"

"I can't believe I didn't think of it! I saw it when Mum was going through her room," Lily said. She jumped off her bed and Lorcan followed as she dashed from her room. He was slower, taking the corners slowly, just in case someone had come back without hearing them. Lily flew into Imogen's bedroom. Lorcan followed, closing the door behind them. "It's got to be in here! She moved it to her nightstand after I calmed her down and we did other things."

Lily opened random drawers and looked over different surfaces of the furniture. As she started on the desk she squealed, pulling one book out from the end of a row that lined the wall behind the desk. The title was Known/Unknown. Lorcan reached out and Lily handed him the book. Flipping through the front pages, it looked like an examination of types of magic that had been named and legitimized, but had been seen rarely enough there was limited information. He held onto the block of pages, flipping until it opened at a page where a card had been stuck as a bookmark. There were three different spells described, but when he got to a short one on something called Vocan Orbis, Locan looked up at Lily, eyes a little wider. He turned the book to Lily, pointing out the passage.

"That's it!" she said triumphantly. "Except… is that all there is?"

"Yeah, but now we know what we're actually looking for," said Lorcan, taking back the book. He flipped the page and there was a loud pop from the living room.

"Lily?"

They both froze for a moment before Lily pushed Lorcan down and shoved him under Imogen's bed.

"Lily?" James called from the living room, exasperated. His dad and the auror staff were going to lunch at the Leaky Cauldron and he was sent back to take care of Lily. He'd tried to point out that she was fifteen and should be able to manage a sandwich on her own, but his dad said there were matters they needed to discuss without James, and he was sent back anyways. He started down towards Lily's room. "Lily, what do you want for lunch?"

"I was just going to heat some leftovers," Lily said from behind him.

James turned around, seeing Lily closing Imogen's door behind her. His eyes narrowed. "What were you doing in there?"

"None of your business," she snapped at him.

His mom had taken a couple days before she came around completely. The first morning she had made breakfast for everyone except him. Dinner too. James didn't argue or say anything, but just made his own food and tried to be helpful around the house. She eventually softened. Lily hadn't. She brought up what he'd said and insulted him every chance she got. It didn't bother James, though. He was too preoccupied trying to figure out what she was hiding. He still had the veritaserum. Maybe if he just slipped a little into her drink at lunch…

"You shouldn't be in there."

"Who said?" Lily said. She walked into the kitchen, her nose literally in the air after giving him a snide huff.

James watched as she disappeared, then looked over to Imogen's door. He hadn't been in there since the night he'd yelled at her. His parents had pulled everything that seemed pertinent, but James hadn't seen it for himself. He walked over, opening up the door. It looked the same as when she'd been here—the floral comforter with little blue and gold flowers entwined with green ivy was untouched, as if someone had just made the bed that morning. The pillows were haphazardly thrown against the headboard, making it look lived in. The books had been shuffled through a bit and James wondered why Lily thought she'd find something there.

Going over to the desk, he flipped through one book after another until he got to a photo album. Lily gave this one to Imogen, if he remembered right. Imogen rarely bought anything for herself, in fact. She was generally content with whatever she had, but he remembered her talking about getting an album for her photographs and Lily insisting she wait. Lily and James argued over who got to buy it for her for Christmas. They finally settled on Lily buying the album and James got Imogen a camera to go with it. The latter of the the items sat on the shelf just above the desk.

James took the album, walked over to Imogen's bed, and sat back against the headboard, crossing his legs and flipping through. There were lots of pictures he hadn't even seen, but what struck him was how many were of him and Imogen. There were others, too. Pictures she took with Lily, a couple of Albus playing chess or waving in a humoring sort of way, and a handful of images with Ravenclaw friends were tipped into the album as well, but by far there were more of James with his arms around her and Imogen holding out the camera. When he came to one where he was laughing and Imogen stood behind him, arms wrapped around his chest and nose touching his cheek. She kept leaning in, kissing him.

James tried to remember when they took this picture. It was before exams, before his jealousy ramped up when she would study or work with Lorcan instead of sneaking to a private area of Hogwarts with him. He traced the shape of her face with his fingertip, wishing he could tell her now what an idiot he'd been.

"I thought you said we shouldn't be in there," Lily shouted from the living room, carrying a plate of food.

James shut the album, looking up and glaring at her. "I said you shouldn't be in here," James clarified. He stood, carrying the album with him. He'd keep it in his room. "What were you looking for anyway?"

"Nothing," Lily said. "I just miss her, alright? Like I said, it's not your business anyway."

"I'm going to figure out what you're up to, Lily. Just you wait."

Lily scoffed and rolled her eyes, going back to her room with her lunch. James scowled after her, went to his own room to put up the album, and apparated back to Diagon Alley. He'd rather have lunch with Uncle George. He just had to avoid his dad in the process.

"Do children always inherit their parent's gift? Or can a child of a seer be a caller?" Imogen asked.

"The same gift is passed, if it's inherited at all," Hal replied. He was leading them through the woods. Imogen didn't know how he knew where he was going. To her, everything since he'd created the call to transport them looked the same: a dense forest of trees. "Sometimes children don't get the gift, though they'll have magic."

"What about if both parents have different gifts?"

"You know, I thought… she's awfully quiet… she won't bother me. You're far more chatty than you let on," Hal responded. "If it's two Gypsies with different gifts, you inherit one of them, but never both."

Imogen mulled over the information for a while. She had never in her life been called chatty. The last time she'd come close to asking this many questions was when she first went to Hogwarts, and those were usually aimed at Lorcan, who was more patient (and, really, just plain nicer) than Hal. When it came to getting around the place she didn't have to ask at all. James spent every spare moment dragging her around like a hyperactive tour guide. She knew more about Hogwarts and its various passages in two weeks than others found out in two years there.

Hal was the only one she could ask right now, though. They'd been walking for three hours and she'd found out a lot. Gypsy colonies were located throughout Eastern Europe and far from other society. There were wide swaths of land that were protected by ancient Gypsy magic. They couldn't apparate in. They couldn't even use a call, unless the leader of the clan helped create it. Hal showed Imogen exactly how to use her magic to transport, should she ever encounter a call on her own again as well.

Then she asked a lot of questions about how one received their gift. Apparently gifts manifest themselves around the age of four, though Hal didn't have any details what this actually looked like. It wasn't like traditional magic either, where children had uncontrolled moments of exhibition. Instead it was a steady build.

The last thing Hal said about parents having the same gifts as their children had her confused, though. She tried to think through it on her own, not wanting to be called chatty again. But she couldn't work it out. "My father couldn't have been a caster though," she finally said.

"What do you mean?" Hal asked. Like with every other part of their conversation, he kept walking without turning around.

"Where I grew up, in that compound, there was a barrier that kept everyone in," Imogen said. The memory she had dreamed started flashing through her mind in bits and pieces. Her father being caught, her mother as well. The way they fell. "Usually a wand was the only thing that could get someone through safely. I was able to get through because of my gift. It didn't affect me. But... " she swallowed. "But that's how my papa died. If he had the gift he would have gone through too."

Hal actually stopped, one hand on a thin trunk and turned back towards Imogen. "Did he ever use the gift before that?"

"I told you, I don't remember anything before then," Imogen replied.

"Well, there's a… theory," Hal said. For the first time since they started walking, he looked interested. "It's not done often, but one person with a gift can pass on their gift to someone else."

"Pass on?"

"Even Gypsies don't talk about it much. Don't talk about it with anyone else, in fact, but if a parent wanted to give up their gift to strengthen their child's, it's supposed to be possible. Actually, there are rumors that it can be passed to anyone who doesn't have a conflicting gift, but that's only temporarily if that's true at all."

"My papa might have given me his gift?" Imogen asked.

Hal nodded.

This was a terrible thing to know. Imogen almost wished she hadn't asked it. If her papa did give Imogen his gift, then him and her mother had died because of Imogen. There was only one other time Imogen went through that barrier. It was the day the group she lived with went back to the compound to free everyone still left there. Imogen and James weren't supposed to go, but had managed to tag along by using the Potter's invisibility cloak. When they made it to the barrier that time, Imogen's casting gift had opened a wide doorway for them to walk through safely. If her father had kept the gift, they would all be alive now.

Hal still watched her, but didn't say anything. Imogen looked at him, swallowed back developing tears, and walked on, heading the same direction Hal seemed to have been going before. He didn't take long before he was in stride, walking beside her. "You know, the Imperius Curse doesn't block memories," he said. "That's one reason it's difficult to determine whether someone acted of their own volition or not."

"How do you know that?" Imogen asked. She didn't want to believe it. Ever since Mrs. Gertrude in Australia had nursed her back to health, she had believed that was why she didn't remember her life. Of all the new things she learned today, she didn't want to know if that was true and especially what it implied.

"Because my mum also taught us wizarding magic," he said. "We studied from home."

"Well, then it was something else they did to us at the compound so we couldn't remember."

"Or maybe your parents didn't want you to remember," Hal said.

"No," Imogen said firmly.

"Come on, you seem fairly intelligent. You can't think of why they may have needed you to forget?"

"Stop," Imogen warned him. The first tears dropped down her cheek.

"After all the questions today and that's your limit for facts?"

"Shut it!" she turned on him, shouting. Hal stopped walking.

"Fine," he said. "I just thought you might like to know."

He passed her and they walked in silence. He had some bread that he handed to Imogen at some point in the afternoon while they continued. It wasn't until the sun was dipping down along the horizon that Hal told Imogen they needed to look for a spot to camp. They walked around the area until they found a bush of wild berries near a clearing. He pulled out his wand, tucked safely in a small pocket along the left leg of his trousers, and pushed around the leaves with a spell to make a couple cushioned areas for them. Imogen helped out by making a pit and fire for them to use.

"There's a lake a couple hundred yards north," he said. "I'll go catch us some fish."

Imogen didn't look at him or reply, but Hal didn't wait for her to. She fiddled with the fire for a while, then magicked a shallow basket out of the twigs in the area, going around the bushes to find the ripest berries for them to eat. Hal came back less than an hour later and pulled a small pan from his sack to cook. Imogen appreciated the fact that they didn't have to hide their magic anymore, being able to share a cup and continually refill it with water without trips to the lake.

The fire crackled as Imogen set the cup between her and Hal, wiping her hands on her jeans before pulling her knees into her, watching the embers.

"There's a myth that goes along with the gifts," Hal finally said, breaking the silence. Imogen didn't look at him or speak, but kept watching the flames. "The start of the gifts was with a Gypsy mother and her two daughters. The mother was a seer, able to know things others did not. Her daughters were both beautiful and young, but it wasn't enough for them. They wanted gifts to rival their mother's so that people would see their value, even as they aged.

"The first daughter, a very social young woman, wanted a way to stay in touch with everyone she knew. Her mother gave her the gift of calling. She would send calls through all the Gypsy communities."

Imogen noticed the flames take shape. She looked over where Hal was moving his wand lazily, its tip pointed at the fire. When she looked back, there was a woman, creating a call like the one Hal had done earlier. Then another. Then another.

"She threw the greatest festivals, using the transport to bring Gypsies from around the world back to the homeland. She would be known for keeping unity among the clans.

"The second—" another woman appeared in place of the first "—desired the respect of wizards and Gypsies. She wanted magic that could only be imagined by others. Her mother gave her the ability to control the world around her." This second woman appeared in a field, pointing her hands at various trees, moving them into different locations, then towards a bird, that flew down and perched on her finger. "She travelled far and wide, using great judgement in providing solutions that did not exist without her limitless magic.

"There was a stipulation, though," Hal said. The two girls appeared on either side of an older figure. "They must pay tribute to their mother, and their children after them, and their children's children. The gifts would continue, but the generations to come must remember the one who gave it to them."

The figures all disappeared and Hal stopped talking. Crickets chirped in place of the story. "Or what?" Imogen finally asked quietly.

"Or nothing," Hal said. "It's just a story. No one knows who the first Gypsy with a gift was." He stood up, stretching out. "We got farther than I thought we would. Get a good night sleep and we may make it by tomorrow night."

Imogen stood and pulled the blanket from her bag. Now that it was just the two of them, she repaired some of the worst holes. They both adjusted the beds of leaves. It was more comfortable than Imogen would have imagined as she pulled more leaves over to build up a larger pillow. They were both settled in, the fire dying down. "I'm sorry about your parents," Hal whispered. "I lost my mum, too."