February 1991
There were still some things about the magical world that were new to Violet. She was learning more and more, she'd met Cambrians and Mistwalkers and Gaels, nobles and wilderfolk and werewolves. She'd gone to all kinds of holiday things, birthdays and weddings, even a couple baby showers. (They didn't call them that, muggle word, but that's what they were.) Mum brought her all over the place, not just in Britain but around the world, and she read lots of books and listened to the radio when drawing or embroidering — trying to make sure she was caught up on all the things fancy noble children were supposed to know by her age.
Not that she was going to follow all the stupid Society rules, because they were stupid and super mean sometimes? Like, it seemed like having all the fancy things that poor people weren't taught proper was kind of the point, so you knew who didn't belong. But Mum said you had to know what the rules were, even if you weren't going to follow them, so fine, whatever. Besides, the fancy Society stuff wasn't all dumb, some of the stories and stuff were neat, and fancy dresses and tiny cakes! She loved fancy dresses and tiny cakes.
Violet hadn't been to a funeral yet. Nobody she knew had even died, really — after today, she wouldn't be able to say that anymore.
Mages had a lot of different ideas about what happened when you died, which made sense, because they had a bunch of different religions with all their own things. The Blacks weren't super particular about what exactly the afterlife looked like, but they did believe there was one — or they did in general, anyway, Mum herself didn't think there was anything, that people just died and that was it. Most of them, they thought that the spirits of their ancestors watched over them and stuff, nudging them out of danger now and then — some people thought funny feelings you might get about things, like instinct, were really someone yelling in your ear from beyond the grave to not do something stupid — some magic things like picking wands, if the family was attacked that the wards of Ancient House could call on them to help protect their home, all kinds of stuff.
(Mum said that last one might actually be true, but it'd been so long since anyone attacked Ancient House that she wasn't sure — and if it did happen, that was actually necromancy, which sounded super creepy.)
And, Violet noticed, people were kind of super casual about death sometimes? Like, this did depend who you were talking to, but a lot of times people were just like, yeah, everyone's gonna die, just the way it is, no reason to be silly about it. It was still sad when someone you knew died, obviously, and stopping people from dying with, like, healing, or being an Auror or whatever, that was still a super cool good thing to do, but it wasn't something that... People seemed to think death was less creepy than Violet remembered from muggle Britain, avoiding talking about it and trying to pretend it isn't real just, like, death is a thing that exists, and not being super serious about it.
Because they weren't so super serious about it, Violet thought was why they didn't think it was a big deal to...hurry it along. She meant, when someone was old, and really really ill, and there was no chance of them getting better, and it was going to suck every minute until their body finally gave up and they died... Well, people thought there was an afterlife, and death was just a normal part of life, so if someone was just going to hurt for however long, helping them get there quicker was just kind of the nicer thing to do, if that made sense? Different people had different traditions about how they did it, but it was super common, there were whole rituals and stuff for it people had.
The Blacks had a special knife. The tradition was from an old story, that wasn't super important, but basically, the dying person said their goodbyes to everyone — the day of, usually just family, friends and stuff got their goodbyes earlier. Then, in private, an heir of some kind — the first child, and/or the next head of the family (in the case of a Lord/Lady Black), or just someone they liked and who they meant to leave all their stuff to — would sit with them, sharing a glass of wine, to get their last words. A blessing, or instructions for what to do when they were gone, that kind of thing. Then, when it was done, the heir stabbed them in the heart with a special knife.
That sounded really freaky, but Mum said Lord Arcturus wouldn't feel anything — the knife was cursed, the second it broke the skin he would be knocked out. Mum really would be stabbing Lord Arcturus in the heart today, but it wasn't going to be super painful and awful, just...kind of messy.
Because, Lord Arcturus's illness had gotten bad enough that he couldn't even really leave his bed anymore. It'd been getting really bad for a while now, he had to cancel their lessons sometimes when he just wasn't feeling up to it, until...until, one day, he decided he was done. Lord Arcturus was going to die, today. Violet didn't know how she felt about that, just, really quiet and cold, and, she didn't know...
(At least she didn't have to be in the room when it happened, that would be really freaky.)
Lord Arcturus called pretty much the whole family to Ancient House, one day in February, to say their goodbyes. He sent out more invitations than Mum thought he would, there were more people in Ancient House today than there'd been in over a decade — that still wasn't that many people, true, but still. Some of them weren't really a big surprise to Mum. Lord Arcturus invited Mum and Violet, of course, but Síomha was here too. Violet just kind of assumed he invited Mum and she brought Síomha just because, but he sent them a simple little note telling them what was happening and when to come, and Síomha's name was on it too. And that was...kind of odd. She knew enough about fancy noble etiquette to realise now that that was odd, she spent like thirty seconds staring at the invitation wondering what that was about.
Mum expected that Lord Arcturus would invite his daughter and two living first cousins — Mum wasn't sure that they would actually show up. Aunt Lucretia — she was Mum's first cousin's daughter, which kind of made her 'Violet''s second cousin, but with the age difference she was supposed to call her "Aunt" anyway — was Lady Prewett now, and the Prewetts and the Blacks were not political friends, it would be kind of awkward for her to show up for silly noble reasons. His cousin Aunt Cedrella had kind of eloped, there was a whole big scandal about it, it was a thing, they hadn't spoken to each other for decades. And his cousin Uncle Pollus (Mum's big brother) had run away from Britain when the war was getting really bad and Blacks were all killing each other, and seemed to not want to have anything to do with the family anymore.
Aunt Narcissa wasn't a surprise, and she was bringing Draco, which also wasn't a surprise. (But not Uncle Lucius, Mum said Aunt Narcissa's invitation made it very clear he wasn't welcome — Violet wasn't sure why, probably politics.) Aunt Andi being invited was a surprise — she was kicked out of the family ages ago, when she ran away with Uncle Ted. It was unexpected enough that when she got the invitation Aunt Andi actually flooed over to their house to ask Mum if it was for real. Mum said that Lord Arcturus probably expected that the House under Mum would "acknowledge" the Tonkses as part of the family, even if they weren't straight adopted back — Mum could do that, but Aunt Andi and Uncle Ted wanted to stay Tonkses, thank you — so, Mum thought that by inviting her to the final family event under him, he was kind of subtly giving his approval. Kind of forgiving Aunt Andi for leaving, without really saying so proper, if that made sense.
The invitation Aunt Andi got included Dora, but not Uncle Ted — though he wasn't specifically dis-invited, like Uncle Lucius was, which Mum said actually meant something — which just made it even weirder that Mum's included Síomha. Violet really didn't know what was up with that, it was odd, niggled at her each time she was reminded.
Mum thought it was also possible that he sent some invitations to some MacMillans, his wife's family (the same people as Ernie's family, but Mum said it English-ly for some reason), but that was just a maybe, and she didn't think it was very likely anyone would come. He probably didn't send any to the Gamps, his mum's family, for complicated politics reasons. Mostly invitations just went to Blacks, or women who were Blacks before marrying out, or the kids of Black women, who still kind of halfway counted as Blacks for old-fashioned family law reasons. The only real exceptions were Aunt Walburga, who Mum said was quite mad and not really fit to go to events like these, and Aunt Lucretia's daughter Marielle Weasley, who very much hated the family for things to do with the war, and wouldn't behave herself if she was here.
They all came. Mum and Síomha and Violet, Aunt Andi and Dora (but no Uncle Ted), Aunt Narcissa and Draco, and even Aunt Lucretia, her husband Lord Ignatius, and Mum's brother Uncle Pollus, and even Aunt Cedrella — they all showed up.
It was way more people than Mum expected. She didn't bring up enough wine.
Uncle Pollus came a few days early, he sent a letter ahead and Mum, Síomha, and Violet met him at the keyport and went out to dinner, and he hung out at home with them most of the time. (He was sleeping at a hotel a few blocks away, instead of just staying at Ancient House, Violet wasn't sure why.) It was a little weird having an extra guest at the house, who was someone she never met before and also her uncle now? but it wasn't so bad, Uncle Pollus was nice. A little weird, but Violet couldn't judge people for that. He was Mum's older brother, by three years, meaning he was eighty-eight years old (eighty-nine in a few months), though he really didn't look it — mages aged slower than normal people. He looked like a grown-up, yeah, but like, she didn't know, some of the businessmen at Vernon's company. Older than parent age, but not grandparent age yet, she guessed, only a little bit of grey in his hair, you could barely tell.
He looked a lot like Lord Arcturus, just a little taller and not so scary thin and pale, a bit of rosiness in his cheeks, especially when he laughed. But she guessed it made sense that they looked alike, they were first cousins.
But they only kind of looked alike — Uncle Pollus was way more energetic, all talking and bouncing around and laughing loud and deep, and also he dressed funny? Not in a bad way, Violet thought, just he really wouldn't fit in with all the stuffy noble purebloods. When they picked him up at the keyport, he was in trousers and a light, silk, fluttery long-sleeved shirt that was super colourful, with swirls in green and blue and yellow. They kind of made Violet think of muggle Hawaiian shirts? The bright colours and the fun patterns were similar, but it didn't button up, and the fabric was different, more silky-looking, but close. Uncle Pollus must really like that outfit, because she'd seen him in a few different versions of it now — unless they were going to be spending time outside, he'd swap out the colourful fluttery shirts for fuzzy wool jumpers then. He'd left the colours behind for today, trousers and jumper both in black, properly quiet for people dying.
Mum and Síomha had dressed all proper in dark colours too, since that's what you did for serious business — they'd actually be having the funeral later tonight, after the stars came out, so. Most of the time Síomha wore trousers (sometimes even muggle denims), skirts were kind of rare for her, but today she was in a plain, modest black dress, with little accents in red and white here and there. Getting dressed this morning — Síomha lived with them, for like a month now, which was very nice! so, they'd gotten ready for the funeral together, since she was already at home with them — she'd said she actually bought the dress a couple years ago, for her great-great-grandfather's funeral. (Mages lived a long time, so people's great-great-grandparents being around wasn't so weird. Violet actually met one of her great-great-grandmas, she was a swan!) It was maybe not really nice enough to be hanging around a bunch of super fancy stupid wealthy noble people, but dressing plainly for funerals was actually normal — you weren't supposed to show off at them, like you did for other social events, that would be crass. She was actually a little more formal-looking than Uncle Pollus, so, Violet was sure that was fine.
(Síomha had been a little nervous about it, since they'd be hanging out with a bunch of super fancy stupid wealthy noble people, but Mum said it was fine, so.)
Mum was dressed like she was going into a fight — not one of her duelling matches, she usually just dressed flashy and pretty for those (part of the show), but like a real fight, where people were actually trying to kill each other. Like a proper battle or something. Made out of leather and wool, in black or the same dark rusty red used in House of Black stuff and the buttons and stuff in silver, boots and trousers, a high-necked shirt under a thick, long jacket, the hem nearly reaching her knees, worn hanging open. The sleeves of the jacket billowed out a bit past the elbow, making room for a thick, armoured wand holster on one arm — like, actually armour, the leather covered on the outside with shiny metal plates, Mum said you could catch curses with it if you were fast — and a thing that threw knives?! Mum showed her how it worked this morning, just, flick her wrist, and zip, flying through the air so fast Violet could barely see it, almost like it just appeared stuck in the wall on the other side of the room, holy crap. There was a big long knife in a sheath on one hip, under the jacket — like the big kitchen knife Mum used to chop things sometimes, but with a sharpened edge on both sides — and a back-up wand hidden in her boot, and a back-up knife hidden in her other boot. Which just...seemed like a lot of knives...
All of it was enchanted really really heavily — like, Violet could feel the air crackle just standing close by, it was intense. Defensive spells and stuff, to protect you in an actual battle, like when fighting with an army in a real war. That kind of stuff didn't happen very often, these days — the last real war had been Grindelwald's Revolution, at about the same time as the Second World War — but it wasn't too out there for some nobles to still have the things for it, just in case. Especially families like the Blacks, who kind of thought of themselves as a warrior family, in a way that lots of the rest of the nobility didn't really.
The outfit was partly because she was going to be sitting watch over Lord Arcturus from when he died to the funeral, and it was part of the ritual that the person who did that was supposed to be ready for a fight — there were some really nasty things you could do with Dark Arts and a dead body if you were a bad person who didn't care about doing evil things (or just gross things) — but also it was because Mum was going to be formally recognised as Lady Black at the funeral, and you were also supposed to be dressed like you were ready for a fight for that too. See, the Blacks still thought of themselves as warriors first, or at least some of them did, they were just like that sometimes.
The super intense enchantments on Mum's clothes kind of made her uncomfortable to be too close to, but that was fine, Violet would just stick with Síomha and Dora instead.
Violet was maybe kind of breaking the solemn quiet dress rules — her dress didn't have any fancy glittery bits or complicated lace or embroidery or anything, which was proper, but it was in pretty bright yellows and oranges, the cloth belt around her middle in a nice sky blue, which wasn't so proper. When she was asked, she said that everyone was going to be in sad dark colours, and, she didn't want to make people more sad by dressing sad like everyone else, if that made sense? Happy cheerful stuff was better, she thought? Besides, she could tell Lord Arcturus thought the way she dressed was funny, cute in a silly little girl being silly way, so, since this was his death and funeral and stuff, she thought it made more sense to do something that he actually kind of liked about her. If that made sense? She wasn't sure if it did, but Mum said it was fine, so.
(If Mum had decided to make her go in a boring plain black dress, they would have had to go out and buy one, Violet didn't own anything like that...)
Uncle Pollus met them at home before they all flooed to Ancient House. It was pretty common for apartments for people in big fancy manors like this to have a sitting room, connected to bedrooms and work rooms or whatever and a toilet, so you didn't have to go far for most things. Lord Arcturus was in a bedroom, they were setting up in the sitting room outside — in pleasant blues and greens, with windows looking out into one of the little courtyard gardens dotted through the sprawling maze-like mess that was Ancient House, it was a nice place. By the time they got there, Lord Arcturus's healer, an older bloke called Marcus, was already here. Mum had a short talk with him, before going in to say hi to Lord Arcturus; only a couple minutes though, and then she was back in the sitting room, talking with Menae, the old and wrinkly but solemn and proud-looking chief elf of the Blacks, about how they were going to set up the room. Pretty soon there was a longer table set up with some finger food — they were going to be here for a while — and some drinks, mostly wine. A second smaller table was set up, with a big fancy silver quill sticking out of an inkwell, but Violet didn't know what that was about.
Uncle Pollus poured himself a glass of wine right away, because of course he did — she was getting the feeling that Uncle Pollus drank a lot of wine.
The first people to show up after them were Aunt Narcissa and Draco. They were both wearing plain black clothes, Aunt Narcissa's hair held up in a simple bun, and both of them had full black hair, without the white strip in Aunt Narcissa's or the everything on Draco. Violet already knew that funny-looking white must be magic, but she guessed she knew what Draco's real hair colour was now. (She thought charming it white was a Malfoy thing, for some reason, Uncle Lucius did it too.) As soon as they said hi to each other, Draco tried to keep talking to Violet, which was annoying because she didn't like Draco much, but she was pretty sure he was just bored, and he mostly wanted to talk about quidditch and starting at Hogwarts soon, so whatever. Aunt Narcissa kept talking to Síomha, which was making Síomha obviously uncomfortable — Síomha was just a normal person, and not only was Aunt Narcissa a super rich fancy noble person, but she was also famous and important enough that she got into the newspapers often. (The Malfoys were kind of the leaders of the ex- Death Eater people in the Wizengamot, Violet thought? so their names came up.) Violet kind of got the feeling that Aunt Narcissa was trying to figure out why Síomha was even here, giving her and Mum lots of funny looks, which was kind of silly, really. Síomha was here because Mum wanted her to be, obviously.
After them, Aunt Lucretia and Lord Ignatius arrived, the first surprise guests of the day. Aunt Lucretia looked a lot like the other Black people — short and dainty, pale with a narrow, sharp sort of face and curly black hair, but her eyes were a lighter proper blue than the grey most of them had, and there was more red in her cheeks, even had a hint of freckles — but Lord Ignatius was completely different, tall and broad-shouldered (the tallest person in the room, easy), with a wide forehead and a square jaw, his hair a pleasant vivid sunset orange. (Kind of like Síomha's, but tinted a little more blond-ish than red-ish.) They were the Lord and Lady of the Noble House of Prewett, they got married back when Ignaitus was still only the heir of the heir. During the introductions, Violet was told to call her Aunt Lucretia, but she wasn't told to call him Uncle Ignatius, so she kept calling him Lord Ignatius, just to be safe. She got a couple funny looks, but nobody said anything, so that could just be about the stammering, she was pretty sure she wasn't doing anything too badly.
Aunt Narcissa and the Prewetts were very stiff and awkward around each other, after saying their hellos mostly kept to opposite sides of the room, but Violet wasn't told why until after Aunt Andi and Dora turned up. They were also plainly dressed in black, Dora looking very grown up in a proper dress and all — she was turning seventeen next month, but she actually looked more adult-like than that, Violet thought she was maybe borrowing one of Aunt Andi's dresses and making herself look grown up to match. They said hello to everyone, Aunt Andi and Aunt Narcissa very stiff and cold with each other. They were sisters — easy to tell with them in the same room at the same time, and with the white stripe missing from Aunt Narcissa's hair, they looked so alike — but Mum said they hadn't spoken since before Aunt Andi ran away with Uncle Ted. People were a little weird about Aunt Andi in general, but they seemed warmer to Dora, Violet wasn't sure why.
Maybe just that Dora was great, Violet's favourite cousin...though she was getting a little scary these days. She was super into duelling and all, you know, and sometimes her magic sounded sharp — no, Violet couldn't explain what that meant, exactly, it just was, okay. She was still Violet's favourite though, because she was fun, and super pretty, with the colours and stuff she did with everything. (She was about as 'bad' at 'matching' colours as Violet was, but obviously it was just more fun that way.) Though she didn't have a lot of fun colours today, just the black dress, and it looked like the only thing she changed (other than what she needed to to fit in the dress) was her fingernails and her lips, making them all black. The only thing Violet did was make her fingernails blue, to match her belt, it felt like doing more than that would be too much for today. She even made sure the little rainbow flecks that liked to sneak into her hair weren't there, because funerals weren't times for funny rainbow hair, she was pretty sure.
Draco was a little awkward sitting and talking with Dora, but Violet thought that was just because she was a very improper sort of person — she knew Draco well enough to know that he always got a little awkward when people were being weird around him. Which was most of the time Violet was there, honestly, you'd think he'd be used to it by now.
(...Had Dora and Draco ever met before? Violet wasn't sure, actually...)
After that, some bloke from the Ministry arrived — since the funeral would just be here on the grounds tonight, someone had to come by to confirm Lord Arcturus's death, for legal stuff. There were also papers for Mum to sign, saying she was taking responsibility for the House, blah blah. He went in to talk to Lord Arcturus, Dora said to make sure this was his idea, that Mum wasn't just murdering him to get him out of the way or whatever, and then he came back out, started setting up papers on the little table. So that's what that was for...
While the Ministry man was doing that, Dora told her why Aunt Narcissa and the Prewetts were being so weird. Aunt Lucretia and Lord Ignatius had two sons, Fabian and Gideon, who were in Albus's group back in the war. They were good enough that the Death Eaters got super annoyed with them, to the point that they laid a trap for Fabian and Gideon specifically — some of the Death Eaters who murdered them were killed themselves or were in Azkaban now, but the bloke who planned the whole thing, Corban Yaxley, wasn't punished at all. At the end of the war, the Malfoys did something to get out of trouble themselves, Violet didn't follow it, and they also covered for some of their friends...including Corban Yaxley. So, it was kind of Aunt Narcissa's fault that the man responsible for the murder of the Prewetts' two sons was free right now. Yeah, now that she knew that, Violet could see why that might make things a little bit tense.
(Draco looked very uncomfortable through the whole conversation, but whatever he was thinking he kept to himself.)
Aunt Cedrella turned up just as they were about to start, some of the people who'd been here longer were already even starting to get a little bit silly from the wine. She was Mum's and Uncle Pollus's and Lord Arcturus's first cousin — though she was a little younger than them, 'only' seventy-two — and she looked pretty much like the rest of the Blacks, with slightly lighter hair, more of a dark brown. She was pretty cold and stiff, like a lot of the fancy noble types, but her words were warm, saying hellos and nice to meet yous to Violet all nice — and even Síomha, not everyone was quite as polite to Síomha as they were the other noble people. She thought Aunt Cedrella was just like that, people were different, she seemed nice! Very grandmotherly, but more in a super proper noblewoman way, kind of like some of the grandmas she met doing the silly tea parties with her Hogwarts class...
Nobody expected Aunt Cedrella to turn up, or the Prewetts, Mum had to ask Menae to go grab a couple extra bottles of wine and tell the kitchen to have more snacks ready. But it was time to start, so, hopefully nobody else came, they were going to be missing things now...
Mum stood up at the front of the room, after she had everyone's attention thanked them for coming and all. They wouldn't all go in Lord Arcturus's room at once — he wasn't well, didn't want to crowd him, you know — she would go in and tell him the guest list, and he would tell her who he wanted to speak with, in what order. If Lord Arcturus didn't want to talk to you, for whatever reason, tell Mum, and if it seemed important she'd bring the request back to him — but if he didn't change his mind, sorry, that's just the way it goes sometimes. She wasn't going to force him to spend some of his final minutes on this earth talking to people he didn't want to see, so.
And then she disappeared inside the bedroom, closed the door behind her, the sitting room falling into stiff, awkward quiet. A lot of people here didn't like each other much, and also someone was going to die soon, Violet guessed being quiet made sense, people not sure what to talk about...
Violet didn't know what she was supposed to be doing with herself. Nobody she knew had ever died before, and, she could be bad with formal, proper, serious stuff. The rules always seemed so silly, just this big fake act people were putting on for no good reason she could see, it was really hard to make herself do it. (Sometimes impossible, when the rules made it so she was supposed to tell a lie, or give a promise she couldn't keep.) But actually, being serious about someone dying seemed like the right thing to do, but she didn't know how she was supposed to do that. She felt so out of place, like she was doing something wrong, but nobody was saying anything...
After a couple minutes, Mum came back out, with the list of what order Lord Arcturus wanted to talk to people. Except he actually wanted to talk to Marcus first — he was probably going to need his potions to get through the next hour or two, or however long this was going to take. Marcus came back out, and then Aunt Lucretia and Lord Ignatius went in. (Apparently he wanted to see them first, Violet thought it might have been a while since Lord Arcturus last saw his daughter.) And they waited, the room mostly quiet. A couple whispered conversations going on here and there, Draco was babbling about something but she wasn't really listening, fingers fidgeting with her skirt.
(As much as the rules for social functions and stuff could be silly and annoying, they at least told her what she was supposed to be doing, even if she decided to ignore them. That was probably what Mum meant about needing to know the rules no matter what, come to think of it.)
The Prewetts were still in there when Violet was startled a little by Síomha saying, "Hey, lovely," from only a few steps away. Wasn't paying attention, didn't notice her coming. Síomha crouched down next to the sofa she was in, hands folded on the armrest — she actually had to look up at Violet a little from that angle. "You look to be watching the bushes over here," she muttered in Gaelic. Not literally, that was one of the funny poetical things people said, reference to a story or something. "How are you feeling?"
...She didn't really know how to answer that. "Okay. Um, I d-der-d– I don't know what– wha– what to d-do." Ugh, that was a really bad one, stupid stammer...
"There isn't anything you're supposed to do, I don't think. Just be together, and wait." Síomha glanced over her shoulder quick, Violet couldn't see at what. "Would it be easier if we play a game? Cards or something."
"Yeah." Anything to pay attention to would probably be better, than just sitting here and feeling lost. "Um, is tha– is, is, that too d-disr-disrr—" Oh for crying out loud, stupid thing...
"Disrespectful? I'm not sure — we do things a little differently where I'm from. I'll go ask. If that's inappropriate I'm sure it'll be fine for you to be working on one of your embroidery projects, if your mum says we can't play a game I'll run back home to grab one for you. Okay?"
"Yes, thank you. Um, the d-drr-dress, please. Fiery one." She meant red, but she was sure she was going to stammer on that word really badly. Since her embroidery was definitely good enough now, she'd started altering some of her clothes, especially stuff she planned on bringing with her to Hogwarts to make a good impression on her classmates. Embroidery was slow, though, so it'd take a while to finish anything cool.
"Of course, lovely, I'll go ask."
Síomha went to go whisper something to Mum, who was standing near the food table talking to Uncle Pollus and Aunt Narcissa. Mum glanced at Violet quick, said something to the others. And then some of the furniture was being moved around so Mum could conjure a big table in the middle of the room, and then a double-sized deck of cards they could play with. She suggested everyone play, since a lot of them didn't know each other very well, and it was something to keep them occupied all the way up to the start of the funeral — so, apparently that wasn't too disrespectful of a thing to do, all right. After a little talking, they agreed on one of the trick-taking tarot games, the most interesting one they could think of that everyone in the room knew the rules for. Well, Dora wasn't super confident of that, but she was sitting between Violet and her mum, if she had questions she could ask.
Aunt Cedrella insisted on checking over the deck, looking more and more flabbergasted as she flipped through the conjured cards and found they all looked like what they were supposed to — sometimes Violet was reminded that Mum's skills with magic were a little mad.
They didn't quite start the game by the time Aunt Lucretia and Lord Ignatius came out of Lord Arcturus's room. It looked like whatever they talked about was a little hard on Aunt Lucretia, her eyes all red and watery, her husband holding her arm in an almost half-hug. For a second, Violet was worried she was going to be annoyed about them playing games out here and not taking it seriously enough — and since it started to keep Violet busy, it would be kind of her fault — but, after Uncle Pollus left to talk to Lord Arcturus (taking his drink with him), the Prewetts went by the snack table to grab fresh glasses of wine and joined them at the table. So, maybe this wasn't breaking the rules, nobody explained it very well.
Uncle Pollus wasn't in there very long, less time than the Prewetts, and then it was Aunt Cedrella's turn. While they played cards, there was some talking about the game, joking teasing around or reminding someone of rules, nothing really serious. There was a little bit of gossip, about news or things to do with relatives' life stuff — at one point, Aunt Andi said something to Síomha about family matters that Violet thought was meant to hint at how weird it was that Síomha was at a private House of Black thing, Síomha ducking into her seat a little and her face going a bit red (maybe feeling even more out of place than Violet did) — but pretty quickly it moved into talk about Lord Arcturus, stories about him when he was younger and stuff.
This was kind of interesting, because, Violet only knew him after he was already old and unwell. Like a lot of Blacks, he used to be super into duelling, and when the Revolution on the Continent was going on he volunteered to help with the invasion. He was hardly the only one who did either, several Blacks died in the fighting, and it was why he was so frail, damage from curses during the war — Violet was kind of vaguely aware of that before, but he didn't talk about it. He was the stiff, proper, formal kid in the family when they were younger, Uncle Pollus said he always had a stick up his arse (kind of rude?), but he could be funny sometimes too, there was this time at a garden party with a transfigured frog...
After Aunt Cedrella came out, it was Síomha's turn — she stopped partway to the door, turning to ask Mum if she was coming...but no, it turned out Lord Arcturus wanted to talk to Síomha alone. Everyone seemed to think that was weird, glancing and muttering to each other, but nobody tried to do anything about it. Síomha stopped for a second right outside of the door, took in and out a long slow breath, and then disappeared inside, the door clicking behind her.
...Violet was slightly nervous about that, honestly — she didn't want anything bad to happen to Síomha — but it was probably fine. Maybe he just wanted to say thanks for looking after Violet and Mum all the time? That didn't seem like a Lord Arcturus thing to do, but she couldn't think of what other reason he could have, so.
(Well, besides telling her she should leave Mum so she could marry a man and have babies proper, but he knew Mum wasn't going to do that — she told him so plenty of times herself. A last thank you made the most sense of anything Violet could think of.)
When the game started up again, Dora leaned in close, hissingly whispering over Violet's ear — it felt a little uncomfortable, her skin crawling all prickly making her want to roll her shoulders, she tried to ignore it. "Hey, what's going on with Aunt Cassie's girlfriend? I thought this was supposed to be strict family only, the big Malfoy isn't even here."
Violet shrugged. "Dunno. She does l-live with us now, maybe that's why?" Though, Uncle Lucius lived with Aunt Narcissa, obviously, but that was politics.
"Oh really? When did that happen?"
"Last month! She finished her M-M-Muh-Mmmastery, and then moved in! She's at home all the time now, except wh– except, except if she's visiting friends, or w-w-working, or something."
"She finished her Mastery already? Wicked. And she is pretty fun when she's not all nervous about getting the third degree from Narcissa bloody Malfoy..."
"Yeah! She's r-rr-really nice, I love Síomha." Violet knew purebloods thought that was kind of an embarrassing thing to say with other people around, especially about someone who wasn't family, but it was still so cool that Síomha was living with them now, she wasn't quite used to that yet. And you could tell she meant it, because her fairy magic hadn't stopped her from saying it.
"Yeah, she's cool, and way too young and pretty to be my great-great-aunt's girlfriend — kind of makes it awkward to—"
"Nymphdora," Aunt Andi said at full volume over Dora's hissing. "It's your turn. If you're quite done gossipping about your great-great-aunt's young and pretty girlfriend."
"What! She is though! But fine, I can play a stupid card..."
Síomha came out eventually, looking a little...Violet didn't know what to call that. She was bad at reading faces sometimes — she could tell something had happened, but she really had no idea what. Dora and Aunt Andi got up to take their turn, and Síomha sat down next to Mum, the two of them leaning in to whisper to each other...
It didn't look like a bad thing, she was pretty sure. Síomha didn't seem like she was really sad or hurt or anything, just...surprised, maybe? In a sort of dazed, not sure how to feel about this thing that just happened way, so. Whatever, it was probably fine.
Aunt Andi came out by herself, apparently Lord Arcturus wanted to talk to Dora alone for a little bit. She looked a little stiff and cold, maybe annoyed, but she swished down to her seat and jumped right back into the card game. Dora was out a couple minutes later, in a better mood than Aunt Andi — she was bouncing a little with each step, not quite skipping, flecks of bright bubblegum blue scattered through her hair. (That was a thing Dora's hair did sometimes when she was happy.) While Draco and Aunt Narcissa went in, Dora plopped back down into her chair, leaning over to whisper to her mum.
Apparently, Lord Arcturus set aside some money to pay for life stuff for Dora during her apprenticeship with the Aurors or doing a Mastery or whatever — like, for a flat, and food and clothes and stuff, so she didn't have to worry about money so much and could just focus on her studies. Violet couldn't hear very well, but it sounded like Aunt Andi might be a bit annoyed, even though that was a nice thing to do! Especially since... Had Lord Arcturus and Dora ever met before? She didn't think so. So that seemed like a nice thing for Lord Arcturus to do for her, she didn't know what reason there was for Aunt Andi to be weird about it...
(Besides, the Blacks had, like, all the money, they could afford to give Dora some. It wasn't a big deal.)
Aunt Narcissa and Draco came out after a while — a few hands at least, Violet wasn't paying attention. And then it was her turn. She kind of expected Mum to come in with her, but no, apparently Lord Arcturus wanted to talk to her alone.
Um. Okay, then. Síomha asked if she was going to be okay, if she needed, she didn't know, but Violet was alone with Lord Arcturus all the time, for lessons and things. This was really no different...except for Lord Arcturus dying, um... Everyone else had already talked to him, so probably just a few minutes after they were done talking. That was super freaky when Violet thought about it. But no, she was fine — she felt weird, not sure what she was supposed to do with herself, but not bad — she opened up the door and stepped inside, quietly closing it behind her.
The room Lord Arcturus was in was pretty nice. It wasn't his normal bedroom, Violet was pretty sure — that was, um, a couple apartments and across the east courtyard that way, closer to the very blue room they first met in — but that was in a less convenient spot for today. (They were near the edge of the complex here, by the east gate, where they'd be holding the funeral later.) It was dark, but just in a pleasant way, the lights low and everything decorated in rich blues and red and purples. There were windows looking out into the same gardens you could see back there, but the light was dimmer, shaded by some kind of spell — Violet remembered one of the potions Lord Arcturus took when he was especially unwell made his eyes super sensitive to light. It smelled a little funny in here, like cooked spinach and mint and oil, potion stuff, but it wasn't too strong, she could mostly ignore it.
In the middle of the room was a big, poofy bed, the sheets all in a nice deep purple, topped with an extra blanket, showing a swirling colourful pattern she couldn't quite make out. There were tables to either side, with potion bottles and a pitcher of water, yeah, but also a bunch of little picture frames and some other trinkets, most of which weren't familiar to her at all. She did recognise a drawing she did of the sun rising against Castle White in Brittany, the pastels smeared and blobby and the whole thing streaked with yellow and orange and red, making it almost look glowing — it didn't look realistic at all, but she did actually like that one. It was kind of nice that he'd included one of her drawings in...well, the last things he wanted to see before he died, she guessed. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about that, but, she was...happy he liked it? Yeah.
Lord Arcturus was in the bed, half-sitting reclined against the head, propped up with a bunch of pillows. He didn't look any older than he did when they met, his hair still mostly black — but he did look smaller. As long as she knew him Lord Arcturus had always been thin and weak, thanks to the curses slowly killing him, but it only got worse since, his face half a skull, sinking in around his eyes, has hands all gnarled and boney. He was really pale, skin almost seeming to glow in the soft light from the windows and the shuttered lamp hanging from the bedframe, and his hands were shaking, badly enough she could see it from here. Mum said, one of the things the curses were doing was making him slowly lose control of his muscles. That was why he'd always needed a cane to walk, his legs not steady enough to hold him all the time, and why they normally had big easy-to-eat finger-food when visiting, because he found it hard to use forks and stuff. But the problem just got worse and worse, Marcus could only help so much, some days he couldn't really get out of bed at all, had so much trouble getting food down (plus other health problems from other curses) that he kept losing weight, until he was little more than skin and bones, shivering in his bed as though deathly cold...
Violet stood there for a second, just, staring at him. She didn't know what to do.
(He was going to be dying in a few minutes, nobody she knew ever died before, she didn't know what you were supposed to do when people died.)
While she was staring like an idiot, Lord Arcturus lifted one (shaking) hand to point somewhere to Violet's left. "Third shelf. Red case."
Blinking, confused, Violet shook it off after a couple seconds. Against the wall to the left of the door was a set of bookshelves — there were books, some more healing and potions stuff, some tubes for scrolls. Sitting on the third shelf was a big red box, like a briefcase but a few times the size, done in some kind of ceramic like lots of stuff mages used. She didn't see any other red boxes, but just to be sure, Violet pointed at it. "That one?"
"Yes. Bring it with you."
Okay, then. She tested it by lifting up the near side, but it didn't seem too heavy. Violet slid it partway off the shelf, there was a leather handle on the top, pulled it down the rest of the way. It was a little heavy, but she just had to lean a little to the side to make up for it, it wasn't a big deal. She hesitated for a second, before trotting over to the bed. There were a few chairs set up around it, Violet picked one and sat down, the case thumping a little against the rug.
And then she just sat there for a second, trying not to look too uncomfortable. She didn't know what you were supposed to say to someone who was going to die soon.
"Oh, the poem!" The one she illustrated for him a while ago now, all colourful and done with pretty calligraphy, the top pinned down by a picture frame right on the edge so it kind of dangled in plain view... "Um, sorry, d-d-din't see it earlier..."
Lord Arcturus's thin, pale lips twitched — not in the way that he was kind of always twitching everywhere, his body not doing what he told it to, but like he actually thought something was funny. "Yes. It's g-k– It's good work. Open it."
"What?" The poem? How do you open a poem?
"The box. Open it."
Oh! Right, okay, that made more sense. She tugged the box over so it was sitting right in front of her chair, bending over to look for a latch or something. "Is it normal to g– to g– to g-g-get, ugh, things for people, when you're d-dying?"
She was a little worried that was a rude thing to say — though it wasn't like Lord Arcturus didn't know he was dying, she guessed — but thankfully he just let out a low little chuckle, so. "Yes, silly girl. I have...no need of things. Anymore. All I have is going...to someone."
...Right. Obviously. That was a stupid question when she thought about it.
"But this is n-n— That is new. Not mine." So, he was randomly giving her a gift when he was about to die — was this a normal thing to happen or not? She hadn't asked just because, she really had no idea what she was supposed to be doing, and not knowing what was happening and if it was normal or an extra special thing wasn't making it easier...
After a little bit fiddling with it she found the latches on the box, the top clicked open. There was something in there, cloth and leather, she reached in and pulled out— "Oh! It's so pretty!" It was a satchel, like one of the bags that hung over your shoulder, but big, big enough that it was slightly awkward to carry around — but it needed to be big, it was an art bag! Like, to put painting stuff, your paints or pastels or whatever, and sketchbooks and frames and a palette and stuff, so you could carry your stuff along and plonk down and make something wherever.
She actually had one of these already, but this one was so much nicer! The outside was a mix of a nice strong sturdy canvas and leather, dark rusty red and a bright pretty violet colour, all rich and vivid, the purple especially, just, jumping out. The strap had a curly pattern embroidered into it, a vine twirling its way along the whole length of the strap, every so often leaves in green and flowers in white and purple — violets! those were violets! — the loops connecting the strap to the bag were made out of a gold-looking bronze, but they weren't just loops, carved into little figures of hippogriffs with their wings spread, and there was more embroidery on the flap covering the pockets (there would be more than one in here), strings of lavender along the edges, Lord Arcturus knew she liked lavender, in the middle a big super detailed bundle of violets, big capital letters in fancy calligraphy to either side of the flowers, a V and a P, all of it all nice and colourful and delicate and— "Thank you, Lord Ah– Lord Arcturus, I l-l-l-love it! It's..."
...
Wait a second.
The violets. The hippogriffs. V P.
Violet Potter.
The air feeling all tense and hard and thick, like it turned solid all of a sudden, for a long while, Violet could just stare back at Lord Arcturus. Her fingers clutching the bag, pushing divots into the material, she could barely even breathe. "Um. You... You know? Who I am."
One of his eyebrows arcing up, Lord Arcturus gave her a flat, unamused look. Or, Violet thought it was maybe supposed to look like that, but his lips were still twitching a little, in the funny way. "Obviously. I knew who you are frr– from the beginning."
"Really?"
"Cassie was foolish to...think she could hide it. I already knew who you are...before we first met. Nola told Menae. Menae told me. I asked some...careful questions...of friends in the M-M-Ministry. To confirm."
"...Oh." That did kind of make sense when she thought about it. These noble people took their families super seriously, she should have guessed Lord Arcturus would check before just letting someone in... "Um, I'm sorry we didn't... Mum said we h-h– we d-d-der– we d—"
"She couldn't be cer-tain...of my cooperation. I know. It's all right." Lord Arcturus took in and out a long breath. His eyes drifted closed, his thin, shivering body seeming to sink deeper into the pillows, trying to relax. "I understood it was...delicate. Your guardianship, Dumbledore, and your...personal troubles. I did not want to cause...additional difficulties. I didn't want to risk...your mother feeling threatened. I knew, she would pick you. If she felt I was to...force her to choose. Cassie has always been...stubborn, in that way."
Well, he sure fooled them, then. Violet had had no idea that he had any idea who she was this entire time, and as far as she knew Mum hadn't either. She guessed he wasn't Lord of the Family for nothing. "Um. I d-didn't l-l-llllike, hiding it." That one word stuck annoyingly hard, Violet could feel herself tensing up, her chest and throat getting all tight and thick and heavy — she didn't know what she was feeling, really, she didn't know what to do when someone was dying, and it was nice that he played along! trying to keep Mum happy, and, she didn't know, just. It was getting hard to talk, was all. Or, hard-er than usual, she guessed. "I was never r-rreally a B-Black, and..."
"No."
Violet blinked. "Eh?"
"You are a human being...not a dog. Use your words."
She barely managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes — it was a super serious moment, Lord Arcturus about to die soon, just, that was a thing he said a lot, and it always seemed so silly. "I mean, what?"
"You are a Black. Near enough."
"Um...no I'm not? You can't b-b-be in mmore than one family?" The way the law in magical Britain worked was very particular about the Houses and stuff, it was actually super complicated.
"So say the Ministry. Do you remember what...what I said, when first we met?"
...She didn't remember that conversation very well, honestly. It was years ago, and she'd been kind of nervous, and also there'd been a lot of boring adult stuff, she hadn't been paying that much attention. "Which part?"
Lord Arcturs ticked up an eyebrow at her, probably guessing that she didn't remember it at all. "The wards know you. This land knew you...from your first step here. You have your wand."
It wasn't really a question, but she still said, "Yeah?"
"Show me."
...Okay, then. Violet leaned over, shifted her skirts out of the way — she was wearing her wand holster around her calf today, it'd look way more in the way and bad on her arm. Pulling out the now-familiar length of wood (still smelling a little like pears all this time later), she looked back at Lord Arcturus, and paused. Did he want her to, like...hand it over to him, or what?
Before she could ask, he said, "Whose wand is that?"
"...Mine?"
He gave her a sharp flat look; her shoulders hunching up, her skin going all prickly, Violet looked away. "Whose wand is that?"
What did he mean, was that the wrong answer somehow? She didn't know what he wanted her to— Oh! Oh, she got it, never mind, she was just being stupid... "Um, Scorpius Bran-Brandon Black."
"You are not he. How did it come to you?"
Well, Lord Arcturus laid out a bunch of wands, and had her touch them until one liked her. But this time she knew what he wanted her to say. Whispering, "He let me have it."
Lord Arcturus nodded. Easing back into the pillows again, his eyes drifted closed, letting out a heavy sigh. "As I said when we f-first met. This land, our home, knows you. That wand came to you. As the spirits of our family...have so spoken, it is not for me...for anyone...to say otherwise. You are a Black, Violet Potter. Not in name. Not in the eyes of the law. But in all that...truly matters. You hid nothing from me. You did not take anything that was...not meant for you."
...Oh.
Um.
She really didn't know what to say now. Hard to even think, really, her head all thick and fuzzy, and bleh...
Really, the strongest, clearest thought she was having was that it was kind of funny to hear someone call her Violet Potter — she didn't know if anyone had ever called her that before. She didn't think she was going to want to stop being a girl once everyone knew who she was, so that was probably going to start being a thing pretty soon. It could even be her real name, if she wanted it to be! Mum said the law would always say she was a boy, but she could change her name no problem...
Violet Potter sounded okay, she guessed. That could be her name soon.
She twitched when Lord Arcturus said her name again, hadn't been paying attention. He was holding up one hand toward her, wavering a bit in the air, hard to hold it still — not sure what was happening, but it was obvious he wanted her to take his hand, so she did. Closing around hers, his hand was all cold and clammy (he was dying), his grip was unsteady, not staying at a same amount of tightness but squeezing and letting go by just a little bit, over and over and over. "Don't let them have it."
It took a few seconds to find her voice, her chest feeling all tight and bluh, her throat too thick, hard to make it do words. "What?"
"If it comes to you..." He trailed off, his eyes closing again for a moment. "It may not come to you. Cassie may yet see to that. But if the House does come to you...don't let them have it. Fold our holdings into the P-Potters. Burn it all to ash, if you must." His hand tightening around hers, shivering, his voice thickening to a low groan, "Don't let the...the bastards who murdered us...loot what we've built over...over our corpses. Don't let them have it, even, even if you must destroy it all. Don't let them have it."
The Death Eaters, he meant — if there weren't any Blacks left, the House and all of its stuff would go to a closely-related family. Most of them were Death Eater families, and Lord Arcturus kind of blamed them for the House falling apart in the first place. He was super serious about not letting them benefit from killing so many of them, Violet already knew that.
And as much as she still kind of felt like the House of Black wasn't really her business — but maybe she shouldn't, the Lord of the Family had just done a big thing about how she was one of them and all — she did get that? Like, it made sense. If you killed someone, you shouldn't also get to steal their stuff, that was, just, obviously wrong. This was basically the same idea, but on a bigger level, Houses, entire families instead of single people. The Ministry wasn't going to, like, throw them all in gaol or whatever, so making sure they couldn't have his stuff after he was dead was really the best he could hope for.
(That was very sad, when Violet thought about it.)
"I w-w-won't." She swallowed, hard, took a couple breaths, trying to get her throat to cooperate. "I, I, I, I won't let them have it. Even if have to, have to b-b-burn it all d-down. I promise." There was a little prickly tingly feeling spreading out from her chest, the same spot it came from when she did magic, and then a click — not the same clicking as when things came together right, but close, something settling into place. Her own magic would make her keep her promise now. Some kind of binding spell, Mum said, that her magic just did for some reason. It wasn't really something she did on purpose...except it kind of was? Because, when she promised to do something she did really mean to, she knew her magic was going to make her do it, so, when you think about it it was exactly what she meant to happen. Because it was important, it was sad that this was all Lord Arcturus could hope for, so she could do that much for him, at least.
Lord Arcturus gave her a funny look, blinking. They had to tell him about not being able to lie and the thing with keeping her word, because he would notice pretty quickly. (Though she did wonder what Mum told him about why she needed the fairy healing in the first place, Violet wasn't there for that talk.) She thought he might be a little annoyed, but after a second he let out another sigh, sinking against the pillows. "Good. Good. It may not come to you. But thank you."
"...You're w-welcome." That seemed like a stupid thing to say, but she really couldn't think of anything else. And, this was goodbye, basically, she was never going to see him again after this, and nobody she knew had ever died before, she didn't know what to do, and she was feeling all cold and stiff, and, it was hard to make her throat work, too...
"You may go," Lord Arcturus hissed, his cold, shaky hand loosening from hers. "Send in your mother."
...
She felt like she should say something. But she didn't know what.
(And also her voice wasn't working.)
He was going to be dead in a couple minutes, and she didn't know what to do.
So, she would just...go, she guessed. He was telling her to, and it was easy enough to just do what she was told. Hooking her wrist around the strap of her bag, she— She really did love it! It was so pretty, and, and it was just a super nice thing for him to do, and even making it a Violet Potter thing, with the hippogriffs and the initials, she didn't know, it was just nice...
When she started moving, Lord Arcturus's hand suddenly tightened around her wrist. She stopped, looking back at him — or, near him, anyway, she was having one of those awkward moods when it was hard to look straight at someone. She could see him, just, to the side. He wasn't quite looking straight at her either, his face turned a bit to his left...
Toward her drawing. She thought, maybe.
"I am..." He paused for a moment, staring at her picture, his thin, cool fingers shivering around her wrist. "I did not think there...would be children in...Ancient House, again. Not in my time. It... You have my...gratitude. For, providing some...small spark of joy, in my final days."
...
Violet couldn't say anything. It felt too heavy, crushing in around her, her chest too tight and hot and thick, and her brain was too fuzzy, she could barely even... That! That was all, she... It was good he... Well, she worried, a lot, that she was...too much, that people didn't want her here, and it was—
She didn't know what to say. And her voice definitely wasn't working anymore anyway.
Not that she would know what to say even if she could. That was nice! and Lord Arcturus was going to die in a couple minutes, and she didn't know what you were supposed to say to someone was about to die...especially when they were being so nice, normally the thing to do would be to be nice back, but he was dying in a couple minutes, and how did you be nice to someone who was about to die...
(It was so...something, that he was going to be dead in a couple minutes. She was never going to see him again. She was feeling something about that, but she couldn't tell what it was, it was just too big.)
She, just, hung there uselessly for a minute, kind of wavering back and forth on her feet, like a plant pushed around in a light breeze. It felt like she should say or do something, but she didn't know what...
With a sharp twitch, seeming to ring out through her whole body, Violet jerked over closer to the head of the bed. She leaned over, and quick kissed Lord Arcturus on the cheek. She tried to say goodbye, but her voice wasn't working.
So instead she just turned and walked away — Lord Arcturus let her go this time.
She closed the door behind her, and just stopped, leaning against it. Her new bag hugged against her stomach with both arms, she took some deep, slow breaths, trying to force the air through her chest being all strangle-y and difficult.
That had been...a lot.
Violet was maybe only standing there for, like, five seconds before Mum was walking up. Leaning over a little, bringing her face closer to Violet's, she muttered, "Are you all right, darling?"
...No. Probably not. She didn't know what she was feeling, exactly — whatever it was, it was a lot, and heavy, but she didn't know what to call it. (She never knew anyone who died before.) But whatever it was, she was pretty sure it wasn't all right. But Mum was busy, with stuff, so Violet just nodded.
"Okay, then." Mum's hand settled on her shoulder, Violet felt herself tense up, her skin feeling all sharp and itchy. She didn't know, just, she felt all gross and tight and blech inside, and the touching wasn't making her feel better. "Is Archie asking for me?"
Violet nodded.
"All right. I need to get through the door then, darling."
Oh! Oh, of course, obviously. It took a second, another breath, but Violet pushed herself off of leaning on the door, took a stiff step away. Mum started sidling around her to the door, reaching for the— "Mm!" A vague humming noise was the best she could manage right now, her voice still wasn't working. Mum turned to look down at her, Violet held up her new bag, tapped at the initials on the flap.
"What's this, did he...?" Violet could tell when Mum noticed the initials, the hippogriffs at the bottom of the strap — she twitched, leaning back a bit, blinking. She glanced at the door — through the door, toward Lord Arcturus — before looking at the table where everyone else was still playing cards. "Right, of course. Nola?" While he appeared with the familiar little pop! Mum gently took the bag from Violet, carefully folding the strap up on top. "Could you bring this to Violet's room at home, please?"
Nola disappeared with Violet's pretty new art bag — it was very nice! but obviously Potter-ish, if you knew what you were looking at, and she was still being Violet Black — and then Mum disappeared into Lord Arcturus's room. The room went quieter, for a second she thought people were looking at her, but no — they were looking at the door. Because everyone already had their turn talking to Lord Arcturus, Mum was last. She was going to get some final instructions from him, his last words...
And then Mum was going to kill Lord Arcturus.
Any minute now, Mum was going to stab him in the heart, and he'd be dead.
(She didn't know how she felt about that — it was too big, she couldn't think straight.)
After a quiet moment, everyone thoughtfully looking at the door...they went back to their card game. It was a bit colder, and quieter, but the same as before, just going through hand after hand, Dora and Uncle Pollus even joking around, trying to cheer people up...
This was weird. Was Violet the only one who thought this was weird? Lord Arcturus was going to be stabbed in the heart any minute, might be right now! and they were out here playing tarot. It seemed weird to Violet, but, nobody she knew ever died before. Maybe this was normal?
Or, normal for noble types, anyway — Síomha looked a little uncomfortable, at least, so it wasn't just Violet. Whatever.
It was kind of hard to just sit here, really. Her head feeling all thick and fuzzy, it was almost hard to pay attention to the game and what was happening. And it wasn't even a hard game, basically the same one she learned the day she first met Susan and her aunt, years ago now, but it was hard to keep all the rules and what everyone was doing stuck in her head...
(She was never going to see him again. It was big, too big, hard to keep breathing around it.)
Violet didn't know how long Mum was in there. They played a few hands, and then a few more hands. She kept getting distracted, losing when she really shouldn't have, just wasn't paying enough attention — just, play a random card, when someone reminded her it was her turn, or lay down something stupid because she wasn't looking at the cards other people played and... It was hard to think straight, or keep track of what was going on, so she really had no idea how much time it was. But eventually the latch of the door clicked, and Mum walked out, leaving the door hanging open behind her.
She had a knife in one hand. Thin and long and straight, the handle was normal-looking metal, with a long band of leather wrapped around it for a better grip, but the blade was white. Like, not silevery, but a pure, perfect white — it almost looked like porcelain or something, even though the way it was shaped, from how the light bounced off of it, it had to be metal. Violet didn't know how you made snow-white metal, it must be magic somehow.
Half-covering the blade, in blotches and streaks, was blood, shiny and hot and sharp against the unnatural white.
Violet couldn't look away, the squeezing in her chest feeling even tighter and colder, her head too fuzzy to think.
Mum wiped the knife clean with a handkerchief — it cleaned very easy, with a few swipes off the cloth, that must be magic somehow too. Once it was clean, she handed the funny knife to Síomha — she grimaced, stiff, holding the knife far away from herself (clearly not okay with touching the thing Mum just killed Lord Arcturus with) — folded the handkerchief back up into a neat little square. Silly thing to do, there were nasty-looking blotches of blood all over it. Mum took the knife back, and went over to the little table with the special legal papers and stuff, laid the folded-up handkerchief to the side, and then set the knife down on top of it.
Um. Okay, then...
A couple seconds later, Marcus came out of Lord Arcturus's room. When did he go in there? Violet didn't even notice. He said Lord Arcturus was gone, for sure, and then Mum and Marcus was talking to the Ministry person, there was some signing of papers and stuff...
Was that it? Just, he was dead now, go back to what you were doing? Violet knew the funeral would be later, in the evening — they needed to wait at least a few hours after the person died, in case they came back (superstition, not a thing that actually happened), and the Blacks did funerals at night — but someone just died in the other room, it seemed like that should...that there should be something? She didn't know what, nobody she knew ever died before. Just, something.
After the paper signing, the Ministry bloke packed up his papers, some last talk with Mum and Marcus, he quick said something to Aunt Lucretia and Lord Ignatius, and then walked out. (He was just here for legal stuff, he wasn't staying for the funeral.) There was a little bit of talking, with Mum, Violet wasn't really listening. And then Mum picked up a fresh glass of wine, and went back into Lord Arcturus's room, the door clicking closed behind her. She was supposed to keep watch over the body until the funeral, after all, there were nasty things bad mages could do with one of them...
Because that's what it was now. A body. Lord Arcturus wasn't in there anymore.
(She was never going to see him again. His body was going to be burned on a pyre, later, but that wouldn't really be him anymore — he was already gone.)
Once Mum left, they went back to playing their card game.
Really. That was it. They just sat here, playing and talking. It was stiff and quiet, at first — someone had just died right in the other room — but only at first, people started getting sillier. It was the wine, Violet thought — some of the grown-ups were kind of having a lot, and Dora, and even Draco had a little too. Not her, though, there was a burny aftertaste to alcoholic things she didn't like.
She kind of wished she could stand it, at the moment. If the silliness would make her brain stop being all bluh, that'd be kind of nice, it was hard to pay attention even to the card game...
They were just...playing cards. Someone was dead in the other room, and they were just playing cards.
It felt like there should be something else. She didn't know what, this just didn't feel right.
And it kept feeling more wrong, as the minutes went on. Listening to everyone chatter, grinding and hissing in her ears, the thunk of glasses on the table or a laugh now and then grating. It was too thick and heavy and scrambly and thorny in her chest and her head, and getting bigger and bigger, hear head pounding, like the pressure of whatever this stuff was growing too much for her skull, starting to hurt. She didn't know what it was, but it was not all right, this felt wrong somehow, and she didn't want to be here, feeling twitchy in her chair, the back of her neck and her shoulders itching, she couldn't sit still, like the bubbly energy when she had too much really strong tea, but instead of just kind of fun (if a bit much) it was prickly and sharp and unpleasant, she didn't like it, it hurt just sitting here, trying to act as normal as everyone else was being, when Lord Arcturus was dead in the other room...
Nobody she knew ever died before. She didn't know what you were supposed to do when someone you knew died. She didn't know what this feeling was, or what she was supposed to do with it, she didn't like it.
It was too much. She was trying, but it was too much, she couldn't just sit here and... She didn't know. So instead, once a hand was done, she was out of cards, Violet stood up and walked out of the room.
She didn't make it very far. The hallway outside of the sitting room was nice enough, black tile floor with a long red rug going down the middle, the walls the same red but with little touches of white or yellow swirled in here and there. This part of the halls didn't have a lot of paintings on the walls, like there were other places, instead there were a lot of windows looking out into gardens — nice and green despite the season, thanks to magic, there were even some flowers here and there. The pretty crystal light fixtures were here too, turned down low, but the sunlight coming through the windows still reached them, sending little chinks of rainbow light in all directions. She still thought that was super pretty, she tried to draw it a couple times but couldn't get it to work right...
Violet slowed down, drifting to a stop not far away from the sitting room. Once she was gone, the itchy energy, the need to go, dribbled away, and now she just...
She plopped down onto the smooth cushy rug, rolled over onto her back. And she just stared up at the ceiling, the pretty glittery rainbow sparks. It was hard to breathe, or even think, her throat and her head too fuzzy and full, so instead she just looked.
Was this what it was supposed to feel like, when someone you knew died? She didn't know. She kind of thought you were supposed to feel sad, but she didn't really — just kind of grindy and itchy and too much, but she didn't think that was sad, exactly...
How were you supposed to tell what a feeling was, anyway? A lot of them were kind of similar. She used to talk about that with Shannon a lot, but she never got very good at it.
It'd been a while since she'd seen Shannon — her job was helping little kids get through bad stuff happening to them, and once Violet mostly didn't even really think about the Dursleys anymore Shannon said they didn't need to see each other anymore. She wondered how she was doing. Didn't her son have a thing, she forgot...
Who was going to live here now? Was anyone going to live here now? The place was already mostly empty... Mum owned it, but the Blacks owned a lot of places, and they didn't live in all of them — with how many they had, that'd be kind of impossible. It was a little sad that this place was so big and so pretty and was just empty all the time, but. She kind of got Mum not living here, even before she took Violet.
Violet didn't want to live here. She wanted to stay in their house, at the Refuge, with Lasairín and the neighbours and her art room and their garden with the apple tree and the strawberries... Ancient House was cool, a nice place to visit, but she wouldn't want to live here.
She kind of felt the same about Rock-on-Clyde, really, though she didn't say that out loud to Aunt Lise. The gardens were nice! and the library was kind of cool, she guessed, and the baths were pretty. But it was just too...much.
And big — it felt empty. Because it was.
She probably wasn't going to want to visit Ancient House anymore. It was super pretty in places, with the rainbow lights and the paintings everywhere and the gardens, but without Lord Arcturus here, it was going to feel even more empty than it already had.
Violet was kind of sad she couldn't have seen these places back before the Black and Potter families all died. She thought they must have been pretty cool when they were full of people.
They just had to fill them up again, then! She could just have a bunch of babies when she grew up, and her babies could have a bunch of babies when they grew up — since Violet was going to live forever, she could wait for them to fill Rock-on-Clyde proper, even if it took a while — but she didn't know how that was going to work for the Blacks, with really only having Mum left. Um...
Oh crap, Violet just remembered she wasn't allowed to marry a boy, actually, because the law said she was still a boy, and wouldn't let her change that for stupid reasons. So if she were going to have babies when she grew up she'd have to be the dad, sort of. She guessed she could do that — it was always a little uncomfortable being a boy, but she only had to do it for the sex part, so that was probably fine...
Assuming sex didn't turn out super gross for her to begin with — she never really thought about it before, since it was adult stuff and wouldn't matter until she was older, but sex sounded kind of...squishy. And there were fluids? Violet didn't like squishiness, or fluids. Bleh.
Oh no, if sex did turn out to be super gross for her, making Potter babies happen was going to be so miserable...
Violet was still thinking about how gross and squishy and sticky sex sounded — kind of wishing Mum never explained about it, honestly — when she heard a door open. She hadn't actually gotten very far away, still close enough whoever it was spotted her right away. The footsteps were quiet, with the rug in the hallway, but Violet could hear the little muffled thumps of their steps anyway. There was a little bit of a pause, and then the person came closer, sitting down next to Violet on the floor.
Her voice mild and soft, Síomha muttered, "How are you feeling, Willow?"
She wouldn't know how to answer that question, even if her voice were working right now. But it wasn't, so. She must be in a funny mood, because for a second there she tensed a little, nerves itching over her skin, but it was fine, she wasn't going to get in trouble for not talking when someone asked her a question — wow, stupid brain, she hadn't even seen any of the Dursleys in years. (But, like Shannon said, just because it stopped hurting didn't mean the scars weren't still going to be there, maybe for a long time. Still annoying.) But she couldn't really talk right now, so she just shrugged.
"Ah. Voice not working?"
Violet nodded.
"I see." Síomha sat there in silence for a little bit — not in an awkward silence way, just, sitting. "This is a little odd for me too, honestly, the way the Blacks do things. It just seems too...quiet. To me. It's almost as though they're trying to have a wake, but the self-important noble types are too stuck up to do it properly."
She never went to a Gaelic funeral before, obviously, but people told her about it, she knew what a wake was. Basically a party? Like, there was food and drinking and music and stuff. There was something about being loud and bright to stop bad things from getting in or something, she didn't understand it exactly. That also seemed not quite right to Violet, but at least there would be more distractions from her brain being fuzzy and dumb. But she didn't really have anything to say to that, and her voice still wasn't working anyway, so she just hummed.
After a couple more minutes, Síomha said, "We are going to be here for a while, and... Would you like something to do? To keep yourself occupied while we wait. I can ask Nola to bring over one of your embroidery projects."
...That would be very nice, actually. Violet wouldn't have thought of it on her own, but yeah, having something to do would be great. She nodded, quicker and harder than before.
Síomha called Nola, then, asking him to go get the dress Violet was working on at the moment, and her thread and needles and pins and scissors and stuff. And her beads! Violet's voice wasn't working, but she got their attention waving her hands, and made a tiny little ring with her thumb and pointer finger — that wasn't super obvious, but thankfully Nola guessed what she meant. (Nola was so smart! He always knew what she meant, even when she couldn't talk, he was the best.) Síomha also asked for this month's alchemy journal for herself, and her notebook and pens. Violet saw her with that journal thing a lot, it came in once a month and Síomha would spend a couple days reading it and then going through the interesting bits again, making notes in the margins and scrawling pages of stuff in her notebook. All of it was complete nonsense to Violet, of course, she was pretty sure she you had to be a super-smart alchemy person to get it.
And Síomha was a super smart alchemy person! She got her Mastery already and everything — Violet knew enough about how the magical world worked now to know that that was actually hard to do, especially so young. Pretty much everyone she told about it thought it was very cool, because Síomha was cool, and she was living with them now! It was great, she was great, yay.
(Violet wondered if, when Síomha got old, Mum would stab her in the heart too.)
(Suddenly, she was glad she wasn't really a Black — nobody would ever expect her to do that.)
"Come on, lovely, let's get up. Against the wall over here, I think? There's plenty of sunlight over here."
...Okay, fine, Violet could get up. This would be kind of an awkward spot to do her embroidery anyway. She rolled back over, and got a foot under her, and pushed herself up. Síomha sidled over, her arm coming up around Violet's shoulders, but she cringed, the stuff all tangled up in her chest and her head jerking, her skin going all prickly and crawly and bleh, ducking her head and trying not to—
Síomha let go right away, Violet letting out a little shaky breath when her arm was gone. "Sorry, sorry. Feeling gross and scratchy today?"
Of course, Síomha had been around long enough that she knew Violet just felt gross sometimes, and was nice enough to stop touching her without being asked. Violet nodded, just so Síomha would know for sure.
"Okay. I was thinking by the wall, over here. I can conjure some cushions and— Ah, thank you, Nola..."
Sitting in the hall silently with Síomha, stitching little spiral patterns and the petals of tiny flowers into the hem of her dress, while Síomha's pen scritched away at the journal and her notebook, probably wasn't what you were supposed to do when someone died either. But it was better than sitting back there with a bunch of strangers, playing cards, with Lord Arcturus dead right in the other room. Violet didn't know, just, she couldn't do that, even the thought of going back in there was making her super uncomfortable. So she just stopped thinking about it, making her stitches, down and up and back and down, the rhythm of the pushing and pulling of her fingers easing the tangled mess in her head and chest. She didn't really feel better, exactly, but calmer — and this little flower turned out nice! She was doing this by hand, so she knew they weren't going to be perfectly the same all the time, so she wasn't even trying, just kind of drawing a new flower in every spot a flower was supposed to go, and this one actually turned out good, looked very flower-like. She tied off this colour, and reached for the next one.
She turned a little in place, pulled the cushion back to the right spot under her bum, and leaned back against Síomha's arm. Feeling her tongue poke out between her lips, pinned in place between her teeth, Violet kept stitching.