It's not easy to put just the right amount of hints... Especially when I don't know what is the right amount of hints.
Maybe when the reader it might be that answer, but then again, it could be another one, though they are convinced it's that one?
And I have new doodles about this story here: (as always, take the "_" out for the link)
http:_/_alviola._deviantart._com/art/coups-de-crayons-Unclaimed-Darkness-2-609337038?ga_submit_new=10%253A1463397092
http:_/_alviola._deviantart._com/art/Coups-de-crayons-Unclaimed-Darkness-589821892
Of course, they could be slightly... spoiling. Look at your own risks, and don't assume too much from these doodles.
Chapter 24: Pureblooded renegades
Sirius strolled down a London street, searching for the pub Eleanor had mentioned. It was a hot thursday, at the end of July, and he had just taken part in a battle with a dozen of Death Eaters in Cardiff. Harry was safely at the Weasleys', for the Black lord trusted Molly Weasley to take good care of him while he and Arthur were off defending the people, even if the witch wasn't his favorite person.
The Death Eaters attack had been swift. The members of the Order who had reacted to the attack had gone back home, and a few others had joined Tonks behind the other aurors' back to try and discover what Voldemort had wanted with this attack. Only two people had been killed, and the Death Eaters had retreated too quickly, so it wasn't a maneuver of terror. It was something else.
What, no one knew for now, but it was often the case. Reason why the Order was investigating – behind the Ministry's back, obviously. Sirius was one of the rare public members of the Order of the Phoenix, because he could handle an attack, and because he was a prime target anyway. The others had to keep at least some anonymity. It wasn't easy, considering it also meant that each time the aurors arrived, they had to end the fight unless they had a reason to be here, else than having been warned by a third party. Days like today, the Order usually kept to investigating, and making sure the fights didn't go out of a certain perimeter, letting the aurors handle it as long as possible.
So Sirius wasn't exactly tired. Having gone public and all that, he could have just entered the battle, but some people were still whispering about him, and he certainly didn't want to get targeted by both the aurors and the Death Eaters – you know, because he was a questionable individual.
This thursday, he had had the occasion to curse a Death Eater who had tried to go out of the fighting perimeter, while the aurors were looking somewhere else, and the two had started a good battle, but not two minutes into their duel, the anti-apparition wards had gone off, and his opponent had left.
Sirius wasn't tired, and so had seen no reason to postpone the rendez-vous he had with Armand Malfoy and Alexander White, with the assistance of Eleanor Rowle, who was a friend of the Malfoy squib. Scrimgeour having started his changes inside the Muggle Liaison Office, and Kingsley having deemed the two possible contacts, Sirius had been tasked to speak to them, and Eleanor had offered to arrange a meeting at a muggle pub.
This rendez-vous had been set in exactly twelve minutes.
Here he was, in muggle London, wearing muggle clothes – a black suit not unlike the one he had worn to go to Privet Drive, but less ostentatious, too. Sirius didn't want to be spotted and followed, after all. This time, he wore clothes of good quality, yes, but more discreet.
Sirius finally found the muggle pub he was searching for, and entered the building. It was perfectly normal, barely noticeable, and definitely not a place where someone would be looking for the Lord of the House of Black. Eleanor had chosen well.
The wizard saw long blond hair tied in a braid in a corner of the pub, and a smile moved his lips. He walked to the young woman with a braid, and was pleased to see he hadn't been wrong.
Eleanor Rowle smiled at him, and offered him to take a seat. She had ordered a non-alcoholic drink for herself, and a whisky for him. Sirius really didn't know how she already knew him so well, but he certainly wasn't going to complain.
"Hello, Sirius. You have blood on your left sleeve."
The young lord looked at the sleeve of his white shirt, and indeed, there was a small red spot next to one of the buttons. He cursed under his breath, but his smile stayed. Making sure no one was looking, he reached for his wand, in a secret pocket on the side of his pants, and cast a small glamour. Spelling blood away was a bit long to do, and if he rushed too much, he risked making it worse. He'd take care of it later.
"Sorry about that. There was an attack in Cardiff one hour ago, and I caught one of the attackers trying to sneak out of the battlefield. I didn't have the time to change."
Eleanor's smile grew a bit larger. With her, it always seemed to him that things were normal. Even war. Even blood. Even death. It was refreshing.
To Sirius, there wasn't anything shocking with death or blood in themselves, though he wasn't approving of murders or hurting people, but he still had to consider the reactions of others. Eleanor didn't need him to be considerate with these things, and he was grateful for that. She wasn't like him, no. There was no darkness in the young woman, no madness either. But she wasn't asking him to pretend, and that was enough.
"You're alright?"
"A small cutting hex nicked my finger, but it wasn't anything nasty. It won't even scar."
"Can I see?"
Sirius gave her his hand, and indeed, nothing was left to see of his minor injury. Eleanor turned his hand with her owns to verify he wasn't lying, and the contact between their skin was warm and soft.
The witch looked at her watch.
"They shouldn't be long, now. They're having a break right now, just the time for them to get here."
She looked around, but White and Armand weren't there yet. She shrugged, and looked back at Sirius, right into his silver eyes.
The wizard was so fascinating, she simply couldn't help but admire him. For the feats he had accomplished. For the stances he had been adamant to defend. For the kindness she could see in his gaze alongside the harshness.
She remembered too well, her first year at Hogwarts. He had been someone in the school, back then. Not popular like James Potter, whom everyone, minus the blood extremist Slytherins, liked. But he had been popular in another way. He had been this figure, far away, of greatness, handsome, clever, and powerful; and at the same time, slightly frightening, not unfair, but severe and grim.
He had helped her, when half of her House bullied her, and the other half was afraid of being shunned if they stepped up for her. He hadn't been her friend, no, but he had helped her when no one else did.
He was far from perfect, Eleanor was aware of that. Whereas he had been gifted with power, intelligence and good looks, he was lacking in compassion and perhaps even humanity – she wasn't sure why. It made him a dangerous person. But he had chosen to make the most of what he had been given, and that was as much as could be asked from him.
Or from anyone, really.
"Tell me about Armand Malfoy, since you know him personally, please."
Eleanor grew thoughtful.
"Armand's parents guessed he might be a Squib when, at eight, he still hadn't made any accidental magic. Then, it went downhill for him. His father and his mother still loved him, but they grew sad, and that was the bright side of the family. Abraxas Malfoy was the lord of their House, in that time, and whenever he visited his brother, he would disregard Armand. His son, Lucius, and Armand were always the subjects of unfair comparisons, even more so that Lucius Malfoy was already out of Hogwarts. Then Armand didn't receive an Hogwarts letter, and it was official. He was a Squib. No one talked about him in public, and he was sent to a muggle boarding school."
Eleanor took a sip of her iced tea, and stared out the window, remembering her meeting with the Malfoy squib.
"I was fourteen when I met him, and really, it was more hazardous than anything. My family had gone to Oxford for the summer holidays, and that was where he'd been sent to school. I immediately recognized his family name, of course, and he asked me about Hogwarts. In exchange, he told me about muggle education, and how he was doing his best in school, so that his parents wouldn't be able to complain, even if they wouldn't be proud either. He hoped he could get as far in life as possible, and that, without the Malfoys backing him up. He wanted to prove to them he didn't need them, even if Abraxas Malfoy always said he was a waste of space."
Then Eleanor saw the distinctive pale blond hair of the Malfoys amongst the group of people who had just entered the pub. She smiled, and stood up to wave at her friend. Soon, him and a man with outrageously red hair joined the witch and the wizard.
Sirius actually blinked at the man's hair. He hadn't seen hair this red since long. Since Lily, in fact. The Weasleys were all red-headed, but Lily and this man had dark red hair, that almost seemed... Well, like, actual red. Scarlet. And this man not only had red hair, but he had red hair that defied the law of gravity, without magic. It should be a crime to have such hair. It was as if the man was begging to be noticed in a crowd, without actually doing anything for that to happen.
Eleanor stood up and trapped her friend in a gentle hug. Then she turned to Sirius, and smiled again – that small smile of hers, neither shy nor invasive, not exactly joyful, either, but simply calming.
"Sirius, this is Armand Malfoy. Armand, Sirius Black."
A small wince appeared on the blond man's face at both of their names.
"Hearing it like that, you'd think we'd be plotting for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and not the other way around..."
Sirius laughed a bit at that, clearly seeing why a Rowle, a Black and a Malfoy meeting secretly in muggle London could appear... suspicious, to say the least.
"Well then, I suppose we should just call ourselves the alliance of the pureblooded renegades. And to add insult to injury, let's welcome our muggle friend in this meeting. Your name is Alexander White, I believe?"
The redhead nodded shortly, his face a clear indication of his pleasure at being there. Sirius saw this, and narrowed his eyes for a second, the thought that maybe this Malfoy and Alexander White had actually exchanged their expected personalities crossing his mind, because really, White was reminding him of Lucius right now. He carried himself with the same poise, and he had that air about him, as if he was despising on principle anyone he didn't know.
"And yours is Sirius Black. May we cut directly to business? I don't especially enjoy spending my free time with... people such as yourselves."
Alright, comparison checked. Even the tone was the same, though White spoke a bit more curtly.
At least, he wasn't working on cleaning the world of the people he thought beneath him, Sirius guessed. That had to count for something, didn't it?
Armand Malfoy cleared his throat awkwardly, and sat by Sirius' side, while White went to sit next to Eleanor. That way, at least, neither Sirius nor the squib would try to throttle the muggle if he got too much on their nerves. Eleanor wasn't the kind of woman who would throttle Alexander White, even if he was the crudest git to her, so this was definitely the safest way.
As White had so politely suggested, they directly went to the core subject of this rendez-vous. Sirius made a quick summary of the wizarding war so far, so that White, being the only muggle amongst them, could grasp the situation more easily. After that, the Black lord exposed the goals of the Order of the Phoenix, and the two other men, as well as Eleanor from time to time, asked some questions.
For all his arrogance and detestable personality, Alexander White was not a stubborn fool. He knew how to work with people he didn't like, if it was what was needed to remove a threat, and there was no asking if this Voldemort was or wasn't a threat. So even if he didn't like wizards and the simple idea that some people had enough power on their own to kill anyone with a single incantation, he was going to work with this Order of the Phoenix and with wizards and witches.
They were, after all, fighting for the safety of those who knew less of the horrors of the world. They shared a goal, and a common goal was all the muggle needed to participate. If he could be useful, he would be so. And if he got to prove to these wand-maniacs that even people such as himself could be dangerous foes, he wasn't going to push down the opportunity.
Armand was less slytherin than any Malfoy Sirius had met so far. In fact, he was more of a Hufflepuff, he mused, gentle with anyone... who hadn't spent the last two years despising him, like White seemed to, or even their whole lives, like half of the younger man's family. Armand portrayed himself as someone neat and organized, with only some trace of ambition. If he was to monitor the information about attacks with the Order, it could only be a good thing.
The two purebloods from noticeably dark families were definitely going to get along, Sirius thought with a smirk. Oh, his mother would be so proud, erm, so disgusted with him for associating with a squib! The only squibs a Black could possibly consider speaking to were ones from their family, if Walburga was to be believed. And that, only when no one could see the disgraces in their presence.
Eleanor listened carefully to the conversation. Her smile had disappeared, but she didn't look tense. She knew what she was signing for, after all.
The witch had been the one to ask Sirius about the Order of the Phoenix. He was the only member who had gone public in this time, with Albus Dumbledore, though a few others were known from the first war, or at least suspected. Eleanor had asked, because she didn't want to wait and see while half of her friends were getting targeted and the other half didn't dare to speak up.
She might not be a great fighter, but she had other qualities. Her dueling skills were good – fast, but not quite powerful enough – but nothing more than that. She could defend herself for a time, and that was enough for her to make her decision.
She had always been considered a genius in school and afterwards. Maybe it was an exaggeration, but she was clever nonetheless. Smarter than most. She wasn't powerful, alright, but power wasn't everything. She had knowlegde in many fields, and she could be precise when needed. There surely was something she could do to help, if she couldn't very well go on the battlefield.
Sirius had been surprised, she remembered, but pleased. He had smiled at her, after she had asked, and he had looked her in the eyes, reminding her of what could happen to her with that decision. She had shrugged, pointing out that things could happen to her even if she choose not to take a side in the war. She knew the risks if she fought. She knew the reasons why she had to fight.
It was enough for her to make her mind.
Because Eleanor couldn't have stayed safe and sound while others weren't. She couldn't refuse to fight, when people such as Sirius fought. People who had already lost so much, and had hardly gotten any gratitude for it. People who carried the weight of the world, not on their shoulders, but in their eyes.
The witch wouldn't have been able to look herself in a mirror, if she had decided not to jeopardize her sweet tranquility, while Sirius went out and risked his life. She couldn't have looked at him, and appreciated the moments their friendship gave her.
And let's be honest, Eleanor wasn't a violent woman, but she would fight for her freedom, if she had been the one threatened by a group of extremists. As it was, she was a pureblood, and therefore not a target, but it could have been the other way around. She wasn't going to sit around and watch helpless people die.
Sirius spoke of the role the two men could be led to assume if they accepted the Order's offer. He spoke of the dangers the squib, the witch and the muggle might be putting themselves into, too. He spoke of the need for secrecy, and about why anyone who joined, as insignificant as they were, could save a life one day.
He told Eleanor that, no matter how she chose to contribute, a contribution was better than what most people did. He told Armand that his family name might be difficult to overcome, but that, eventually, the members of the Order would see his personality only. He told Alexander that being a muggle could be a hindrance from time to time, but that as long as he agreed to listen, he'd understand what truly mattered.
The wizard then sighed, and stood up.
"Don't misunderstand me; I do not like having to fight, and I loathe this war. But it is here nonetheless. There is no point crying on this fact, and I will fight for it to end since I have to. People will die, and I could be amongst them. Choices will have to be made, and I know I won't like all of them. The Death Eaters will not look away if we ignore them. So I will fight."
Sirius took out three pieces of paper, which he gave to them.
"I'll fight, but will you? Think about it, consider how far you are willing to go for this cause, and when you have made your choice, write your answer on these pieces of paper. If you accept our offer, we will get back to you."
And thus this secret meeting came to an end.
Alexander White snatched his piece of paper, and left almost immediately, with only one polite nod.
He didn't take the time to look at the three magical people he left behind as he left the pub. He didn't take the time to think about that offer. He already knew what his answer would be. He already knew that he wouldn't let his family, or anyone else for the matter, to suffer from a war they had not asked for.
When Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new secretary to the Prime Minister – but also a wizard undercover to protect said Prime Minister – had come to Alexander's and Malfoy's new office, a few weeks ago, the muggle had been immediately suspicious. Alexander knew who this man truly was, since the incident with Malfoy, the Prime Minister, and the Ministers for Magic, former and currently so. And the wizard knew he knew that.
It hadn't been a courtesy visit between colleagues, of that Alexander had been certain.
But Shacklebolt had let nothing out of his true goals with this visit. He had come back the next day, and the next, and the next. Alexander had also seen him speaking with Malfoy from time to time, but always when he himself had been out of the office.
At first the man had thought it was on this Scrimgeour's orders, watching over his new employees. Maybe to make sure they hadn't been, what had Cadfael said, already? – right, imprised, or something like that. His sister's husband had warned his family about magic, after Alexander's encounter with three wizards the other month. As the muggle had always guessed, while some spells were totally harmless, others were very dangerous. And right now there was a psycho out and about who murdered, tortured, and controlled people as he pleased.
Cadfael always looked about to be ill when he spoke about that dark wizard.
And as displeased as Alexander was with his brother-in-law, Cadfael had never seemed to be a coward to him. A damaged man, yes, with PTSD, maybe, because he had seen the scars on Cadfael's forearms, as if the wizard had been trying to rip off the skin more than once. Because he knew about the nightmares which had plagued his sister's husband, the first years. Because Cadfael sometimes behaved as if someone was after him. But not a coward. The wizard kept on fighting against his fears. He had kept on living, and things had gotten better.
Until something like one month ago.
But anyway, Shacklebolt had continued his visits to their office, as if he was trying to get and know them better. As if, in a way, he had been assessing them. As if he had been searching for an answer...
And then, one day, Shacklebolt had asked if they were interested in fighting back.
From there, it had all gone to the dogs, and eventually, Alexander had ended up in that pub, with these people, talking about a wizarding war. A war that affected muggles and witches and wizards alike. A war in which Alexander could perhaps make a difference.
He was going to accept.
He knew it.
He had given himself twenty four hours to think about it, because he knew it wasn't a good thing to just accept like that. But he already knew his answer.
Alexander got out of town, and headed for Amanda's house. His sister lived in one of the numerous suburbs of London, with her husband and her son, his nephew Alshain. They had one of those painfully plain houses of the suburbs, with lawn and white fences, but apparently Amanda was happy.
Her brother still didn't get how Captain Amanda White had suddenly decided to give it all up, for this wizard who had appeared out of nowhere, with no background story, no money and no life to explain himself, but it had been her choice. Alexander couldn't exactly argue against that.
Cadfael and Alshain were to go and get the boy's furnitures for his wizarding studies this afternoon, and Amanda had decided it was a good opportunity to see her brother. Cadfael and Alexander... dealed with each other, but they didn't associate, nor did they get along. It was for the best if the two men didn't have to spend more than one hour a day with each other.
Alexander arrived at the house just in time for lunch. Him and his brother-in-law politely ignored each other, while Amanda watched them with amusement in her eyes. Alshain was asking questions about the list of furnitures, about Hogwarts, and about his father's time at that school. And while Cadfael was glad to answer to the two first groups of questions, he stayed unusually quiet about the last group – mostly because he couldn't answer.
At some point the salt shaker jumped off the table, feeling in a bad mood, surely, and intent on putting an end to its existence. Cadfael stopped the suicidal salt shaker with a flick of his wand, Alshain digged sheepishly in his plate, Amanda smirked a bit, and Alexander rolled his eyes. It wasn't the first time such a thing happened, when his nephew was overly excited. Cadfael assured it would come to pass as soon as the boy would have his personal wand. Alexander wasn't convinced – then again, who was he to talk about magic?
They'd see, after this day.
The little family finished eating, and Amanda rose to take care of the empty dishes. Then the mother turned to look at her son, and looked him in the eyes.
"You'll be nice, won't you?"
"Obviously, Mum. Can I go, now? Dad is waiting..."
Amanda looked up at her husband who was resting against the door frame.
Cadfael was wearing one of these strange wizarding robes, very simple, of a dark grey. He had gotten used to wearing muggle outfits, true, but he didn't want to attract attention when they'd be in diagon alley. His tie was a lovely green, and his shirt very black. As always, the scar that crept onto his right cheek from his neck was painfully red. He had tied back his long hair into a dark red half-ponytail, and two blue eyes met Amanda's.
"So you are going there like that?"
Cadfael gave her a pained smile, conscious that he had totally stolen her eye color.
"I don't want anyone to question my normal eye color. It is too... characteristic of one family, and even if they are tied to most of the other wizarding families by blood, I'd rather not have anyone thinking things that could cause problems for Al."
Even if the wizard already knew it would come to that at some point.
"Not this soon, if anything."
Amanda watched her husband for a long minute, but eventually pulled him into a kiss, which had Alshain look away. The ceiling was particularly interesting this afternoon, wasn't it?
"Well then, go on. And be careful."
Alshain escaped the hair-shuffling by stepping behind his father, making his mother chuckle happily. She knew that the world her son was going to walk into was living dangerous times. But she trusted Cadfael to protect her son, and it would be better for everyone if Al finally got to meet other wizards and witches, if the boy could talk about magic with someone else than his own father.
Well, it'd be better for everyone, except for Cadfael.
The two parents shared a look, thinking about what would happen when Alshain would be Sorted. Even if his father had made that choice, one month ago, it didn't mean he had chosen so eagerly.
"We will, Amanda."
Alshain and his father walked out of the little house, and Cadfael called for the Knight Bus with a flick of his wand. His son started at the appearance of the triple-decker, and Cadfael had to hide a smirk as he knew very well it was the first time Alshain would ride it. It ought to be fun.
The Whites' house wasn't on the floo network, for various reasons, and forcing an eleven-years-old to side-apparate when you could do otherwise was pure torture to the older wizard's eyes. And they weren't going to fly all the way to the Leaky Cauldron, thank you very much. So, Knight Bus it was.
Twenty three minutes later, Alshain got off the magical bus, looking about to puke. Cadfael wasn't much better, truthfully, but he hid it well. He had practice, after all.
"Why didn't you warn me, Dad?"
The child staggered to the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron, resentment clear on his face. Cadfael followed, and pushed the door open for his son. Both entered the old wizarding pub. The older wizard pulled Alshain to the side, behind a table, and kneeled down for them to see eyes to eyes.
"No fun in that, Al. Now, let me check your eyes..."
Two almost identicals pairs of azur eyes stared at each other for a time, and Cadfael sighed.
"Alright, we can go. We have to stop by Gringotts, to change our money into wizarding currency, before we go and get your wand and everything. You aren't too shaken from the ride, I hope?"
There was only one client, Cadfael believed, who could leave the Knight Bus unscathed, and it wasn't his son. Alshain had gotten his balance back, now that they weren't walking anymore, but he still looked slightly green. It'd be a shame if the boy's first trip to Diagon Alley ended up including throwing up in a shop or two.
And this, forgetting that Amanda would skin her husband alive if he didn't take good enough care of her son. The woman might be a muggle, but she was scary, when she wanted to.
Alshain gulped, as if to regain his composure, and nodded. The boy wasn't going to let this first trip to Diagon Alley go to waste.
For some reasons, his father had always kept himself, and thus his son too, away from the various wizarding communities of England. The boy knew one or two of these reasons, but he also knew he wasn't privy to all of them. For example, he knew that the numerous scars on his father's body, these scars that never seemed to cicatrize, on his torso, his arms, his neck and his face, were one of the wizard's reasons. But he didn't know how they were that reason.
Anyway, Alshain was pretty excited at the idea of getting into the most magical street of all the country, and he wasn't going to let the Knight Bus come between him and his discovery of the wizarding world. Not ever. He would enjoy this first day amongst so many people of his kind, and he would smile for his father.
Because no matter how excited the boy had been since he had received his acceptance letter to Hogwarts, at the end of May, only one week before his birthday, which was on the fourth of June, he hadn't missed the new anxiety lurking in his father's eyes. Cadfael had been more and more nervous, after one of his dreams, which had woken him up just a few minutes after he had fallen asleep, one night.
After that, Al's mother and father had spent more time than usual in quiet conversations, the kind the boy couldn't eavesdrop on without it being obvious. The kind that meant it wasn't meant for children's ears.
And Alshain had seen the wizarding newspapers which Cadfael would bring back home somedays. They spoke of war, of disappearances, of murders – amongst other things.
And Al's father seemed to be personally affected by all that, so the boy had decided he would not let his father see he had noticed it, just so that the wizard could fool himself into thinking that, at least, Alshain continued to live and be happy like before.
The two redheads left the Leaky Cauldron, but not without Cadfael promising the bartender, Tom, that they'd take a drink on the way back. The bartender looked oddly at the wizard, but maybe Alshain only had this impression because the older wizard was kind of weird himself. Finally Tom shrugged, pushing out a thought, and thanked that red-headed wizard who reminded him of someone else, but who...?
Al was awed when the entrance to Diagon Alley revealed itself out of a simple courtyard. On the other side, dozens of people were shopping for school furnitures, and other things too. There were colors everywhere, and some of the passersby were really... strange, to say the least. The boy couldn't help but to look around with wide eyes, though he managed not to run off immediately.
While Alshain was awed, Cadfael couldn't help but feel his heart twinge as he, unlike his son, noticed the hurried steps of the shoppers, and the constant frown on their faces. Though the street was still colorful, it was nowhere near its normal state, with big purple posters hiding the displays. Here and there, blackened areas betrayed a recent attack.
The wizard hadn't been in Diagon alley since the first wizarding war, and now that he was back, the fear of the Dark Lord was back too. The children were few, and he guessed most parents had decided to keep them at home while they did the annual furnitures shopping.
Cadfael's eyes fell on his son. Him, at least, was enjoying himself. The other kids were too, or at least those who would soon be first years, who couldn't fully comprehend the war, and were too excited to go to Hogwarts eitherway.
And then he thought that the Dark Lord wanted to destroy this happiness...
Cadfael and Alshain made their way to Gringotts, and the boy found it difficult not to stare at the goblins. Luckily enough, exchanging currencies soon captured Al's attention, and the kid couldn't help but point out how illogical the wizading galleons, sickles and knuts were. His father, who was used to both muggle and wizarding money, smiled slightly. He had thought just as much when Amanda had explained to him how muggle currencies worked, but now he could understand his son's point.
For an instant the older wizard was tempted to go down and claim his personal vault, but he pushed the urge aside. Not now. Not yet.
Then they went to get school uniforms at Madam Malkin's, and once again the shopkeeper stared at Cadfael for longer than necessary, as if she was trying to recognize him from a long-forgotten encounter. It couldn't be helped, Cadfael mused: he certainly did look like him, and that person had been often talked about lately. The wizard kept his calm demeanor, knowing very well that the best way to go unnoticed was not to act suspicious; simple as that.
Eventually Madam Malkin let it go, and started making adjustments to Alshain's robes. The boy was very accomodating, and managed not to squirm too much. His father waited with a small smile, secretly hoping that they wouldn't meet anyone he knew too well on this shopping trip. Madam Malkin and Tom were alright, because they weren't acquaintances. But if...
He paid with a smile, and they went to buy Al's potion ingredients. As they walked, Cadfael caught sight of an elegant black and blue shop, simply named "Exeter", with a rose underlining the name. It sold wizarding and muggle clothes of high quality, for those who couldn't bear to look like idiots when they ventured in the non-magical world for example. For a second the wizard was tempted to enter and check on Diana, but he knew it wasn't a good idea. He'd come later on. He owed Diana's husband that, at least.
Finally they only had to go and get Alshain's wand, as well as his school books. Ollivanders was closed, after a Death Eaters attack, and Cadfael cringed in anger. They had to go to Jimmy Kiddell's Wonderful Wands instead. Not that the man's works were bad, but they weren't quite as good as Ollivander's, most of the time, and Cadfael had a soft spot for the captured wizard since he had gotten his first wand. For some reason, the old man reminded him of someone special.
Jimmy Kiddell welcomed the two with a smile, but somehow it looked strained, tired... Anxious.
"For the boy, isn't it?"
Alshain glared at the shopkeeper at the word "boy", but his father nudged him in the back, and the child faked a cough to hide his scowl.
"Indeed it is. Al will be in his first year in September."
Kiddell started mesuring various lenghts, and mumbling at the same time. Alshain looked at the blond wizard with distrust, but an eye-roll from Cadfael had him shut up. Still, why was it needed to know the distance between his nostrils to get a good wand?
After a time, the shopkeeper handed a first wand to the boy, who waved it carefully... But to no avail. A pen literally exploded on Kiddell's desk. The wand seller blinked, and muttered a quick reparo, which did not help much. Kiddell frowned, and gave his spell more power. This time, the pen was put back into shape.
The shopkeeper turned to look back at Alshain with a calculative look.
"Any family magic I should be aware of?"
Cadfael sighed. He had known it would come to this, but he had hoped against hope...
"A distant relation to the Blacks."
And to a small dozen of other old families, but considering how family magic worked – that was, it went to anyone with the name, and to the children of the Black women as long as they weren't in another Ancient and Noble House – only the Black magic could be available to Al. Sometimes, it went out in distant descendants, if they had no ancestors in other Houses, too.
Kiddell raised an eyebrow. Yes, now that the wizard said it... He could definitely recognize the jaw. Not difficult, with Lord Black's pictures in all the newspapers lately.
"Mmm, I see. Wait a minute, I might have something..."
And the blond wizard disappeared in his back shop.
Alshain looked at his father in confusion, and whispered.
"What are family magics?"
"Some old families have... inherited abilities, let's say. For example, the Rosiers are almost always good in Herbology. It especially affect accidental magic. You remember how you often make things explode when you are angry?"
Al nodded warily.
"And these... Blacks, they are ancestors of ours?"
"In a way, yes."
"And what do they do? Pyrotechnics?"
It made Cadfael laugh a bit.
"No, not at all. Actually, the Blacks have an uncanny easiness with dark magic. Destruction, in a way. I knew one of them, a long time ago, and when he was truly furious, his accidental magic tended to go towards unwanted killing curses."
Seeing Al's face going white at the revelation, Cadfael hurried to reassure him.
"Of course, as they were unwanted, accidental, and without the medium of a wand, they weren't really dangerous. The most they could do was killing small things, such as grass, or bugs, around him. And it was only when he was insanely angered that it happened. You can't just cast a killing curse like it's nothing, you know."
But even amongst the Blacks, such accidental magic was rare. Sirius Black had really been something, back then, and Cadfael was certain the wizard was still incredibly powerful, despite his time in Azkaban. The current Black lord wasn't just any Black, after all.
Al had calmed down a little.
"And you, dad? Do you... Do you have that family magic too?"
"Yes, but mine is nothing like that man's. He might be one of the most powerful men of that family in the last millennium, you see. The worst I ever did in accidental magic was getting my cousin a nosebleed."
And that had been priceless, but anyway. Cadfael didn't want to frighten his son, yet he had to speak about it. Now was as good a time as any, and maybe it was the best, considering the discussion had already turned on that topic. He had planned to speak about it later, at home, but...
But Alshain's fearful face told him he'd better do it now.
"Speaking of which, Al. You have to promise me that if anything happens at school, you'll write. You should be alright for this year, and maybe the next, but puberty tends to create mood swings, and I wouldn't want you to hurt a classmate without meaning it, because of the Blacks'... well, quite violent family magic."
The boy's voice was quiet as he answered. He was surely still processing all that.
"I'll write."
Not ten seconds after the end of their conversation, Jimmy Kiddell came back with five boxes in his arms. He put them down, and handed the first one to Alshain, who opened it and took the wand even more carefully than before, just in case it exploded in his hands.
The wand spat two grey sparks, and the wand seller winced.
"Not quite, but almost there."
The third wand was the right one. A cold gush of air circled around Al, and a silvery frost formed on his dark red hair. The boy jumped back at the cold touch, and Cadfael almost burst out laughing. It was almost as good as when he had found his second wand, in seventh year, after his first had been broken in a duel. His younger self had been sneezing for three consecutive days afterwards.
Kiddell smiled widely.
"Walnut, dragon heartstring, eleven inches. Six galleons and two sickles, please."
Cadfael paid, and father and son left the small shop to go to Flourish and Blotts. Al was staring at his very own wand with awe, having completely forgotten the frost in his hair. His father was tempted to remind him, but it was too fun to watch, so he did not. The boy would certainly remember once the ice started melting, and rolling down his face.
The older wizard started to lead Al into the bookshop, taking him away from childish books of hexes, and back to school books – which, obviously, weren't as enthralling.
Cadfael had just spotted the Magical Theory books by Adalbert Waffling, when he paled considerably. He took a deep breath, and called for the manager, asking him to help his son while he'd go and have some fresh air. Seeing the color of the man's face, the manager agreed immediately, surely worried that Cadfael would throw up on precious books if he stayed inside.
Once outside, Cadfael tried to ignore the harsh pain that had just exploded in his left arm.
Luckily – or not, the circumstances weren't exactly easy to decipher – something else caught his attention. The outside of Flourish and Blotts proposed the Daily Prophet, and some magazines. The wizard cringed angrily as he read titles such as "Sirius Black, free or on the loose?" or "The Black lord: Evil? Possibly. Insane? Probably. Dangerous? Certainly."