A/N: Over three weeks now, oops. Life's been difficult and I got distracted by other projects, but here's the new chapter :) More serious than the last. I'm hoping I can update more regularly.
Major warnings: Grief, implied past torture, including brief flashbacks, and a brief blatant suicide remark (denying). I ask for respect with all continuing sensitive topics.
"Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it." - Albus Dumbledore, Goblet of Fire (2000)
F
February wore by with worsening rumors about the Scamanders but Slytherins still rallied behind Hufflepuff, since the Gryffindor Quidditch team were mostly advocates. Arthur Weasley, obviously at Kelynek now, but the D.U. and Crusader's Corps did well to keep both teams safe beforehand.
Halfway through, Kay Weasley dodged a Bludger but tossed the Quaffle towards Elena Pevensie. Shrieks. Whack! Kay plunged off his broom, clutching his arm.
"FOUL!" Cameron McKinnon swore but the megaphone was taken away.
"Blishwick?" people said.
Hugo Leach smacked the whizzing Bludger away and sped for Ernie Blishwick, snatching his wizcricket bat away sternly. Blishwick waved his hands. Dylan Oakby signaled an arm down.
"TIME OUT!" Professor McGonagall's voice pierced, as Diggory covered Dylan.
Dylan and Elena swept together, guarded by Diggory and Dingle.
"Snitch?" people cried.
"Forget it!" Fauna Dunbar declared.
Frank tugged his hood on tighter, tapping the Husher Clip with his wand.
"Blishwick's done for," Teddy Tonks said disgruntled. "Can't go after Hugo obviously."
"Hufflepuff in on itself?" Sam Abbott spluttered.
"Then I'll try out," Teddy said. "Hit my own cricket ball."
Sam and Teddy turned on each other. Craig grumbled.
"You go for it, mate," Oscar Weasley said distractedly.
Ten minutes later, with Hugo as Hufflepuff's only Beater, the match went on. Logan MacDougal tumbled and Dale Jordan hit the Bludger harshly away.
"You know better than that, laddie!" Cameron McKinnon cried.
Anna Dobbs darted off, dropping the Quaffle. Elena caught it and scored. Gryffindor erupted with cheers.
"Fair enough," Cameron said more lightheartedly, after rewarding Gryffindor ten points. "So long we've got no more accidents but keep it up, Elena!"
"Way to go, Cam," Teddy's voice barely over the noise. "We've got all ours!"
Frank snatched the binoculars from Teddy's loose grip. Not Dearborn, now with the Quaffle, who got Hufflepuff ahead. Or Hill, guarding Gryffindor's hoops. Somewhere in the stands?
Hugo smacked a Bludger away, snapping something. Diggory scored. Elena fell. Dylan shot upwards. A golden blur speeding. Dunbar streaked through Diggory and Anna, who scored. Dunbar up after Dylan.
"Hufflepuff's ahead," Cameron went on indistinguishably. "Gryffindor can't get this one!"
Teddy and Oscar slapped hands.
A canary blur swept up but Dunbar shot past Dylan, scarlet and gold flickering.
"Gryffindor's ahead fifty points but Hufflepuff-" Cameron's voice cut off.
Cheers erupted around.
"OFF THE PITCH!" Professor McGonagall shrieked.
Frank clapped an ear. Dylan and Dunbar had vanished. Diggory and Dingle surrounded Hugo. Anna fell. Duels broke out across the stands. Frank and Craig whipped their wands out.
Girls shrieked. Dingle clutched his arm. Diggory swung a bat but Hugo plummeted. Diggory dove. Hugo hit the grass in a heap, robes enveloping.
Craig swore loudly. Oscar and Frank tugged Teddy's hood up better. Joe Folgelson and Dickon Ward had vanished. Luke Bell ushered his roommates past and Trevor Fortescue's hands over his ears, half hidden round face white.
Hufflepuffs pressed together. Sam and Teddy squeezed between Frank and Craig. Off a seat, Vasu Mishra got tugged off by a few Indian friends.
Clamor pounded. Frank panted, hand pressing his ear. Teddy tripped and Sam fell. Frank grabbed Sam. Craig deflected.
"Oi!" Vasu roared.
Frank and Sam collapsed over a seat. Vasu launched over a boy. Teddy tore over, Craig at his heels.
"Honestly," Sam managed.
"Come on." Frank wrapped his arm.
A yellow light flashed by. Sam tugged Frank's hood up.
"-get off!" Nellie Malfoy's voice hit the air sharply. "Away!"
"Of course, Your Highness," Ursula Flint snapped. "Standing up for Mudbloods now?"
Frank and Sam threw themselves over people, but heads were turning. Dromeda Black and friends dashed away. Others had pushed Flint and others off. Nellie Malfoy and her friends had surrounded Ted, Vasu, and Craig.
"Even you accept it," Nellie's shaky arms wearily stretched, "Tonks has magical heritage from somewhere. What happens if we stand down?"
"You pounce," Melissa Smeek asserted, wand raised over her prefect badge, "and I fix them up!"
Laney Prewett crossed her arms, defended by Lisa Malone. People clapped.
"Stand down!" Flint demanded.
Nellie fixed her Hufflepuff scarf magically. "You leave first."
"As Miss Malfoy said, Miss Flint," Miss Crockford said, "as her housemistress, I will handle anyone's behavior. Anyone who isn't a Hufflepuff, please join your respective head of houses out the stands."
Flint stormed on her heels, friends around. Other Slytherins hurried out, and Ravenclaws. Nellie, Laney, Melissa, and Lisa Malone parted.
Teddy and Vasu came out, cuts dripping. Melissa turned, unsnapping a Red Cross kit. Sam rushed to Craig, badly scratched. Frank slumped onto a seat, bum prickling.
"Frank! Dickon's hurt!" Wynna Dearborn cried.
Frank reached into his jacket and dove over seats. Wynna pointed, tearful face shining. Frank dropped beside Elliot Mulpepper, helping Dickon Ward breath who clutched his side.
"Took it for Joe Fogelson," Elliot said, "safe."
"You'll be fine, eh?" Frank cast a Vitalizing Charm.
Eons later, Hufflepuff was the last to leave the pitch but too many went upstairs for the hospital wing. Back in the hospital ward, Frank and Sam joined fellow house healers caring for minor injuries.
"I'm not staying now," Trevor Fortescue said shakily, still under his hood against pillows with a cut cheek. "You aren't hurt, mate?" He nodded.
Frank gently lifted down Trevor's hood slightly. "Already got me." He wiped Trevor's cut, wincing. "Doesn't seem infected." He bandaged it up.
"Brilliant, honestly." Trevor tugged his hood up and under the sheet, his socked feet sticking out.
Frank wiped up and picked up the clipboard. "What should I write, Irish boy?"
"Upside down, maybe." Luke Bell came up. "Your dad's already asking me to get your trunk outta here, mate."
Trevor stuck his head out the end side. "Mr. Chubbles is loose, so hah." He went back under.
Frank and Luke tittered, but Luke grimaced.
"Toad searching duties looks like." Luke turned, pointing to a poorly bandaged cut over brown hair on his neck. "How bad?"
Frank lifted it down, cut yellowish. "Aye, that's infected. Trev, Luke needs a seat."
Trevor pushed up. "After Hugo, yeah." He swung his legs off.
Luke sunk down, breathing heavily.
"Becky?" Frank called. "Luke's hurt."
Becky Abbott shot over, her bloody flecked apron flapping past Frank over to Luke. "You come right to me!" She indicated to her prefect badge, freshly scratched.
Things calmed down after Hugo Leach's family dropped by on Sunday afternoon, but Hugo and Kay Weasley would be out by end of tomorrow. Dickon Ward was back in lessons by that afternoon, surrounded by friends, and thank Merlin that Joe Fogelson was mostly fine.
"Isn't something this week, mate?" Teddy Tonks said, after double Restorative Potions with Pomfrey on Wednesday afternoon alongside Craig McIntyre in swimming trunks.
"Like what?" Frank said flatly, Newscap heavy. "What've you got?"
"Environmental Plants," Teddy said. "We're safer together."
Frank stiffened. "I know."
Once they saw Teddy to the greenhouses safe with friends, Frank joined Ornithomancy classmates towards the forest and Craig hurried off for around the castle.
Inside the edge of the forest, Professor Vablatsky gathered them around and outstretched her arms to the treetops above. The birds fluttered through leaves. Too many yellow heads, or any curls. Stop it.
Jo Gibson smiled, friends busy. With a few Hufflepuff and Gryffindor boys, Frank turned back to his sketchbook. Birds tweeted, flying free.
"We better be in the common room at least tonight," Sam Abbott said facing Frank at an armchair, as Craig and Dickon left for Crusader's Guild in the Hufflepuff common room after dinner. "You can't hide away again."
Frank's bag hit his leg, dangling on his shoulder. "It's too noisy." He trudged off, fixing his bag. "And I need to find Mr. Chubbles!"
People turned away. Frank rubbed his chest, but tugged his robes out.
Down the tunnels buttoning his robes up, Frank saw two wandering toads to the pet tunnel then another. Either properly lost or Luke Bell hadn't bothered to say they'd found Mr. Chubbles already.
Back in Warblewood, Frank tossed his robes in the laundry chute and dropped by Patches and Rex, playing. Out of his drawers, Frank dug his blue photo album.
He dropped at his messy desk and opened the album beside the Newscap. Photos blurred. Frank wiped his face, but winced, catching acne.
He sniffled and slipped his chocolate frog card out, waving his hand:
— PhysicsMan73 & TricksterWiz —
Heartlight: You got plans tomorrow?
It faded and warmed. Only three of them left here?
The next morning, Frank lay twisted in his quilt with muffled cheery noise from Badger End. Frank sniffled, shakily gripping the soaked Newscap on his pillow.
"Frankie, mate?" Dickon's voice said somewhere. "You awake? Craig wants to check on you."
Frank shifted, but mischievous faces scattered across his wall. His bead curtain nudged aside and Craig stuck his head in.
"Aye," Frank mumbled, tucking the Newscap away.
"Sam's saying you could get a note for Maths," Craig said softly. "No lessons till eleven then."
"Everyone'll know," Frank managed.
"You able to move?" Craig stepped up another step.
"Fifteen." Frank turned flat on his back. "Helping us."
Craig sighed, brushing Frank's quilt. "Aye, but can I help any?"
Frank's legs twitched, empty gut uneasy. He slipped out his chocolate frog card from his pillow:
PhysicsMan73: Great Hall for breakfast?
Frank sniffed. He held a hand out to Craig who helped him sit up and stretch first. One leg off. Both legs. Craig guided Frank down the ladder and they fell heavily, grabbing each other's arms.
Sam drew his arms back, half dressed just away. Dickon smiled slightly, shouldering his bag beside his loft bed.
"I'm fine." Frank tugged his jumper off, but his left arm got stuck.
Sam offered a hand and Frank nodded.
Straight through the blinding bright common room after stragglers out the barrel hole for upstairs. Frank, Craig, Dickon, and Sam mingled in a group into the Great Hall, chatter clear.
At the Gryffindor table, Frank found Kelsey Bell who directed him down to Oso a few down. Tyler Bell clapped Oso's back and set away for other friends. Frank rubbed Oso's back and took the other empty seat, bag on his lap.
"Did you sleep?" Oso ushered for the tea, hovering over.
"What's that?" Frank unbuckled his bag.
"Forget O.W.L.s right now." Oso scooped sunny side eggs onto Frank's plate. "Months off." He summoned toast.
"Three. Where's Kay?"
"Hiding, has to." Oso cut buttered toast into a heart. "D'you take your daily potion yet? I'd almost forgotten mine." He got himself toast.
"Forever?" Frank spread strawberry jam. "What if-?" His chest clutched.
"What?" Oso chewed, lowering his own toast.
"Stupid," Frank mumbled, poking at egg yolks. "The trenches."
"That's all over now," Oso said hastily.
Frank sipped his tea, bittersweet. "What've you got first then?"
"Locomotion with Eikenboom." Oso reached into Frank's bag and dug his Serenity bottle out. "Aren't you taking hers?" He glanced back.
Familiar slower heavy boots. Frank turned. Kay Weasley wrapped an arm around Frank's shoulders, beads easing.
"How could I miss this?" Kay sat down, setting down a full plate of mostly English breakfast. "Think we can find watermelon in the kitchens?" He chewed a bite of spicy Chinese crepe.
Oso glanced away, squirting honey into Frank's tea.
"Leo's alone." Frank popped a tablet and swigged the tea, sweeter.
Kay unfolded Frank's timetable. "Sleeping in Maths today, mate?"
Frank thudded his mug down. "Merlin help me if," he inhaled, "how's Leo do it?"
Oso bit his bacon, glancing away from Kay. Frank squished an egg yolk, glooping out.
"So your weekend's in Leadworth?" Kay said.
Frank shrugged, chewing. "Leo could easily get another week's worth of detentions."
"Time schools took so called general grievances in consideration," Kay's sharpness hinted. "What else've you got?"
"You read it," Frank said flatly, shoving things back into his bag. "Nobody'll wake me for third period." He shook his head, smiling slightly.
Kay grinned slyly. "Come on, one Sunday without our tabs?" He clapped Oso's back, swallowing and grimacing. "Sometime."
A warning from Boorman to turn in his last two assignments by tomorrow evening. Frank scraped together a forgotten essay for double Anglo-Saxon Studies, dropping with the other scrolls onto Thurston's desk.
"I will be in my office until four thirty today," Thurston said afterwards, as they packed up. "Wizcricket season is only a month away now. Any immediate questions today?"
Kelsey brushed against Frank. "I've got a few questions for him."
"I should too." Frank shouldered his bag.
"You can hardly move." Kelsey stood up and held a hand out.
Frank took it, pulling himself up. By the time they made it around the desks, Lestrange, Flint, and Hackett had gone and the Ravenclaws from the front set out.
"How can I help?" Thurston smiled slightly, dark whiskers more trimmed.
Frank collapsed on the nearest desk. Kelsey opened her folder vaguely asking questions but nudged him awake. Thurston a bit blurry.
"Sorry, sir." Frank rubbed his eyes. "Long night."
"You aren't behind, of course, and I know you both understand the material." Thurston unrolled a scroll. "Your grammar needs fixing but-"
Frank stumbled, standing. Kelsey caught him.
"Sleep is more important," Thurston said. "I'm certain you can spare part of your lunch hour?"
"Fittleworth can manage." Frank tugged at his robes buttons over his bright vest. "What else's tonight?"
"Come on." Kelsey patted Frank's shoulder. "I can look at your timetable."
Frank and Kelsey passed others waiting and she dug into his bag.
"Red Cross Club at six," she said quietly.
"And something else." He took it. "Magical Creatures Club."
"You'll be sleeping," she said. "I'm free until Defense at two."
Eventually, Frank crashed onto a snug sofa in the common room and woke with time for dinner before Red Cross Club in the hospital wing and partnered with Sam Abbott.
"It's twilight," Sam said sternly, as they headed down the darkening first floor corridors afterwards.
"I'm awake now, ta." Frank stuffed his robes away against his binder. "Sleep ruined."
"It would've been at least a week's worth of detentions." Melissa Smeek came up on Frank's other side. "Professor Fittleworth isn't happy."
"Not sure he knows how," Frank said flatly, zipping his old tie dyed jacket up. "Where'd Teddy go?"
Sam tugged Frank's arm. Frank jerked but let Melissa step closer.
Across to the sanctuary gates with Melissa's stern warning not to stay out too late, Frank and Sam kept past the ancient chapels' doors.
"You're always welcome to my place," Sam said. "Whatever's best for you this weekend."
"After that last cliffhanger of Doctor Who?" Frank slipped his chocolate frog card out. "Cornies still've got a telly too, hopefully."
They kept down, past the Jewish corridors, and camouflaged down for the dead end corridors, past the infirmary corridor. They claimed a table in the Muggle Studies library and Frank flipped to his hidden E.V.F. Awareness section.
Bets on with Kay and Oso, Arthur had already taken apart and put the telly back together by Saturday evening at the Nest. After a simple tune by Doctor Who on recorder in victory, Scottish nationalism overtook dinner of fish stew.
"Good thing Rupe's not here," Arty mumbled in Rupe's deeply cushioned chair, after Kay and Oso had stuffed their faces. "How's Hogwarts?" he added louder.
"Settling," Frank said, in Arthur's usual chair. "We stay on alert though."
"What're they s'posed do next?" Oso sprayed Kay with fish bits.
"Thanks." Kay wiped his hair. "How're they going to find us?"
Arty lowered his spoon. "They're still watching, mate. Whatever happened last month wasn't pure chance."
"So why'd you slip up first thing?" Kay snapped. "What'll happen if we all leave?"
"Cadan, calmer please," Aunt Cedrella said from the counter, with Uncle Tim.
Arty sat up against the cushions. "Ever had your brain so scrambled you can't think straight no matter how hard you try? Of course it's worse when you've got to hide it."
Uncle Tim came over and Arty sunk back, sipping juice. Uncle Tim spun a plain wood top at his usual spot till it fell off the edge.
"Love, even grief," Uncle Tim summoned the top, "it's not something logic can translate." He smiled slightly at Frank. "We've all got that sense, eh?"
"Love's stupid if it's like that," Oso's accent thickened. "Not bothering." He took a bite.
Frank chewed, body warmer. Uncle Tim trudged back.
"See!" Oso lowered a hand. "You're a sitting owl. Kay?"
"What?" Kay glanced up distractedly. "Come on, mate," he said slyly. "You'll be asking girls out to Hogsmeade soon enough."
Oso glared at Frank, smiling. "Tara Mishra was a one time-Shut it." He stuffed his face, pinker.
Arty chuckled. "Quantum physics, eh?" He flicked his spoon and Frank deflected the broth. "Keep it basic, mate."
"So." Oso stretched out blue Bouncy Putty and Kay groaned. "Let me, Frankie."
By the end of dinner, Arty had finally grasped the core basic essence (with Frank's input) but both Arty and Kay were done by the time Oso and Frank introduced the scientific logistics of parallel worlds partway into playing Quest for Camelot. Arty left and Kay shuffled cards.
"We've got real Yetis!" Oso protested, flipping the blackboard around in the sitting room but Frank caught it. "Why aren't they showing Star Trek here yet?"
Frank erased the half drawn London Underground map. "Our sci-fi show's actually educational. My brain's hurting too."
Oso hastily scribbled in his pocket notebook. "Mine's exploding. Imagine this-"
"Leaving!" Kay sauntered out. "Arty, you up for a different game?"
"Magiphysik makes more sense!" Arty shut his bedroom door. "Mostly!"
Kay groaned and went upstairs, grumbling quietly about Vivi.
Oso slumped on the sofa. "Where's Leo when you need him?"
"It'd still take forever." Frank drew another planet, drooping wristwatch heavy. "But when you've got magic-" He scribbled and waved his wand. Colorful chalk twisted and off the board.
Oso exclaimed and dove around the sofa. Pip chortled and Frank laughed, but the room was empty. Theboard game open on the coffee table. Oso peeked out from behind the sofa cushions, reddish chestnut hair sticking up.
Frank's smile faded. He trudged over and sunk his knees into the sofa, but only Oso straightened up.
"Frankie?" Oso said quietly.
Frank took out the Newscap shakily. "If they exist," he inhaled.
Oso steadied Frank's hands. "Then he's still laughing somewhere, not just spirits."
Frank swallowed. Oso climbed over the sofa carefully and plopped down beside Frank.
"I'm growing up you know," Oso said. "Leadworth tomorrow?"
Frank dropped down. "Red Rock would be worth it."
Oso opened his notebook. "Well, Arty gets almost everything but quantum physics but we'll get there. Leo gets more than he puts on."
Frank laid his head back. "The moon, aye," he muttered, bum tingling, but he sat up.
"What?" Oso said.
"Cane, gone by end of the decade." Frank turned. "That was the promise!"
"How possible's that?" Oso said flatly.
"As possible as the Moon!" Frank clambered up, raspberry crumble tart wafting. "Get the school back together!" He headed out. "Auntie?"
"Is your next proposal more understandable, sweetheart?" Aunt Cedrella said cheerfully.
"Should be gone already!" Frank turned into the kitchen. "When'd you go to Firenze Academy?"
Aunt Cedrella cooled the heavy steam, closing the oven. "My seventh year, but you both have plenty of time."
"Kay!" Frank hurried upstairs. "We celebrated too long!"
"Your brain process is worse than mine, mate," Kay said, stepping out onto the landing. "Obviously we can't leave yet."
"Exchange helps!" Arty cried but something clattered. "My model fell, it's fine!"
Frank and Kay laughed. They shut themselves in Kay's red and orange bedroom and got to work.
Sunday at Canterbury Lodge but only Aunt Sue, Tabby, and Perdy's and Rocky's bouncing barks. The peeling red barn loomed, woodpeckers tapping somewhere. Frank's pocket warmed and he slipped his chocolate frog card out:
TricksterWiz: Bored, flying alone. Can't recruit cousins. How's it there?
R
Therapy helped some. Rupe was hanging out more with Julie Fortescue and he joined the Kowalskis and Gerta Spencer-Moon to left wing student meetings. At first to keep watch on the Kowalskis but old memories stirred at rallies, and mid-March was coming fast.
"To sit in a classroom and conform to their standards?" Madam Blanchard declared at the top of the Saint-Martin Museum steps on on Place Cachée, art banners hanging above. "No more I say!"
People chanted muffled. Nat Kowalski and Hervé Lambert pumped fists, brown heads free.
"Break it up!" a law orderer called. "You've had your time, so clear out!"
"Vive la France!" people cried.
"Clear out respectfully please," Madam Blanchard said calmly.
Everyone pressed together, filling back out onto Rue de l'Abreuvoir. They separated, into cafes or shops, or down onto Rue Girardon. Rupe's hood half on, his lighter back heavy, and joined Cormac MacDougal out the Pythia statue.
"You French, laddie?" Cormac's Scottish accent thick.
"What d'you think?" Rupe said casually normally, slyness hinted.
They separated for their scooters and roaring motors rumbled. Rupe turned the throttle.
After the full moon on Friday evening, Rupe and Julie Fortescue headed to Saint-Martin Museum but they stayed mostly quiet first through the impressionist and postimpressionist exhibits.
"You're going again, aren't you?" Julie said quietly, down a corridor after another couple. "To very progressive meetings."
"So what?" Rupe's wrist itchy. "What's happening to you?"
Julie frowned, glancing around. "You don't for the same reason anymore."
"If you want it, then fine," Rupe said, "but don't let them dictate you."
"Is there any in between?" Julie's arm brushed. "People might give you a chance, to rise up."
Rupe chuckled. "I can't even hold a job, love. Come on."
They wandered through the twentieth century exhibits. Julie was oddly less enthusiastic by the abstract art so they set out onto Rue de l'Abreuvoir.
"It's not you." Julie wrapped in her shawl, over her jumper. "I'm not certain about summer plans, since holidays are usually here."
"Cannes is nice," Rupe said kindly. "Are you coming out in society then?"
"Two years since school now, oui." Julie fingered a shell pendant. "Alice's grandparents still have strong respect."
"Generally speaking, respect and progress can't mix," Rupe's voice strained.
"They could give your mum another chance." Julie turned away, waves tousled. "You, like I said."
"Right." Rupe guided Julie away from a group for a hotel. "Me, my mum. And the others?"
Julie winced. "There's hiring signs everywhere, but you persist out there."
"So it doesn't ruin my record," Rupe said sourly. "Doesn't matter, they'll always look down on our name."
"You let the name Weasley wander out there?" Julie whispered, slightly closer.
Rupe smiled slightly. "Weren't we originally Wyliams? Nobody would know, of course."
"Oui. That's what scares everyone." Julie fastened her cloak hood, straightening up. "I ought to go now though."
"Of course," Rupe's throat tight. "Look, if you don't want to do this anymore then tell me."
"Please just find a stable job." Julie drew back, opened her mouth, but rushed off.
Rupe plodded away, pulling his hood on. "Obviously."
Back at his flat, Rupe slipped out the mirror from its pouch on his bed but his scarred reflection stared back. What chances did any of them have?
Rupe tucked the pouch back under the mattress. His laminated Enizan Institut poster hung beside a Paris poster, rubbish. He collapsed onto his quilt, rubbing the thready stars. His muscles steady, vivid images flashing.
"You can be anything you want to, sweetheart." Mum's waves tickle.
She kisses Rupie's forehead and steps over to fixing Arty's soft animals.
Rupie hugs Pertie bear, warm scarf hardening. Ice cold. His back on fire. Collapsing at Nat's bandaged side, gurgling quietly. Rupe drags himself up, settling his little warmth onto Nat, body too cool.
"Hold on, mate," Rupe gasps.
Hazier the next morning, Rupe swigged coffee and rode down the recognizable maze of Paris' streets. At the restaurant, he bagged warm hamburgers and chips. Outside, he jumped back onto his Lambretta, greeting bright faces in doors.
"Food service is brilliant, yeah," Nat Kowalski said, out for Chinese that night. "You'll keep this job, mate." He twirled his noodles, muscles easier.
"More predictable than chatty people in queue." Rupe twisted fishy noodles, his shoulders heaving. "So why'd your dad switch from bread?"
"Rations probably, but." Nat swallowed. "I dunno, bakers got exempted in Britain," he muttered, fiddling at his napkin. "Couldn't sit around anymore I guess."
"Poland got invaded." Rupe rubbed his wrist.
"How's that?" Nat pushed at his noodles. "Your wrist."
"Worse." Rupe took a larger bite.
"They're everywhere." Nat glanced around stiffly. "Would you stay?"
"France hasn't collapsed their social structure yet," Rupe said half-heartedly. "Even Northern Italy isn't too much more tolerant."
Nat shrugged looser. "Add eight hundred miles east to Croatia's coast, eh?"
"It'd be closer towards Austria, mate." Rupe smiled. "Easier through Czechoslovakia."
"Poland's on the way." Nat bowed his head. "Protests last week are getting slammed down hard." He swigged his soy milk, tugging whiskers flecked. "We better get going."
Rupe and Nat rode down to the Le Arche Apartments, messaged Lyssa, and Nat locked his scooter up.
"You've switched parties, haven't you?" Rupe said loud enough, hand sore around the brake lever.
Nat flicked his wand, feather wrapping. "Why d'you think they're pulling a fuss?" He stuffed the feather away. "Who needs conjuration? See you later." He plodded off, wand at the ready.
Back at his flat, Rupe finally slipped out his chocolate frog card to Headmistress Scamander's wearier smile:
CritterAdvocate: You can be more blunt publicly, mate. The world only exploded last time.
"Prat." Rupe kicked his high tops off, thudding.
He tugged his pajamas on and dropped into bed with Le Peuple against his pillows. Towards the bottom of the front page: Poland Erupts Into Civil Unrest, with a brief turned to the Politics column, pulse quickening.
Protests have spread to other major cities violently dealt with…condemning students, intellectuals, and Jews.
Rupe tossed it aside and reached into his pocket:
Aquaball: Poland's just as ruddy dangerous honestly.
A minute? More?
CritterAdvocate: Sure, so's everywhere. We can't sink from our promises, mate.
Sunday quiet but Rupe sent an apology after breakfast. No reply yet, so Nat either brooding or back to dejinxing golems. The next morning, Rupe ripped open Le Peuple beside his plate but stretched across in huge letters:
MASS LONDON ANTI-VIETNAM DEMONSTRATIONS ENDS VIOLENTLY
MINISTER NOBBY LEACH CALLS FOR RECONCILIATION
He skimmed the Minister's statement and down to:
…incidents at Hogwarts and other schools were calmed with no severe consequences than the usual measures
Rupe's starlet deep orange, seeping red. Wait. He brushed his fingers, staining. He wrenched the starlet up, scar dribbling. He inhaled sharply, flicking his wand.
He wiped his signature up, dabbed potion, and pressed a bandage on. His chest warm. He tugged his suit jacket off but his arms cooler. He took his chocolate frog card out:
CritterAdvocate: You okay, pal? Flashed black.
The newspaper, streaked with blood. Distant cries. Rupe slammed a fist.
"Focus." Rupe swigged coffee. "We made it!"
He kicked the table, knee throbbing. He flopped on his bum harshly and hugged his knees, shaking.
"We fought," he muttered, "and survived. Alice and I led-" He gasped, knees soaked but saltily clean. "How stupid?" He wrenched his arms away, free, but slumped on a shoulder. His back sharply prickling.
A strike. Another. Another. Another. Nothing. Heavy footfalls. Rupe jerked.
"Rupe, it's Nat. Sorry. Nat crouched, his flabby hands raised. "Paris. '68?"
"Why?" Rupe gasped, blurriness around. "Why?"
"Hey," Nat said softly, wrapping his arm around Rupe's back. "There's the easy thing, running, or the best thing. That's fighting. Even this is."
Rupe pressed his head against Nat's pounding chest, heart swift. "If I'd left."
"Not fall term?" Nat chuckled. "You'd been there, springtime."
"Yeah," Rupe breathed easier. "You ran here?"
"Getting better too." Nat lifted Rupe up straighter. "You need carpet looks like."
"On minimal wage," Rupe reached for the table leg.
"No." Nat tugged Rupe's arm. "That's why it hurts."
"How else?" Rupe's wrist sharp.
"What happened?" Nat took Rupe's wrist.
"I thought it was you." Rupe jerked it away. "But it was wet."
"Vietnam?" Nat pushed himself onto his knees. "You can't keep-"
"We'd collapse trying to share!" Rupe wrenched himself up with the table, hands tingling. "Duncan McCrimmon needs stay close to home but Jim Weasley's considering summer. Sanders can't have many excuses left."
Nat stood up, pushing on Rupe's cushioned chair. "'Course it's me, or whatever they… We gotta face what happened."
"Sanders falling towards darkness and you, still smiling?" Rupe slapped his leg, tingling. "I can't."
Nat pulled out Rupe's chair. "Sit first, eh?"
Rupe slumped into it. Nat massaged Rupe's back, straightening it up.
"I couldn't smile much before I got back to Ilvermorny," Nat said somberly. "We've all got our own timelines."
"And now?" Rupe winced.
"Sorry." Nat moved to Rupe's right shoulder. "Now, I want some more attention I could get there so I don't back down from me how I can."
"Not like I'm not Kernow too." Rupe picked up his toast. "Mind if I eat?"
"You're less tense, go ahead." Nat dropped into the other chair. "No, back straight."
Rupe mumbled, chewing, but forced his shoulders straight.
After breakfast, Nat left to Floo home before reporting to Golem Liaisons at the Ministry but had Gobbledegook 201 before lunch at Montemare College. Monday morning free, Rupe headed to the library on Beauxarts' campus and claimed a secluded study table.
"…course Kowalskis're here," a girl said around the corner, hours later. "Two years…back on their feet."
Footfalls. Rupe kept writing. The girls passed. His hair on end. A girl giggled and they kept on.
Rupe inhaled, but a boy behind waved smiling. Rupe brushed his hood, over, and bent over. Back straight. He dipped his quill. Charms.
Julie Fortescue's and Regina Spinks' giggles. Then only Regina. Neatly written letters in blue ink, sometimes under his covers.
Something wet. Rupe sat up, ink smudged. He groaned, but a muffled stir somewhere.
"Outside?" a girl said.
"Come on!"
Rupe's starlet deep orange. He packed and stumbled up, after a few others for the open doors. Distant clamor. Rupe pushed his bag towards his back.
"Paix! Peace!"
Rupe kept over the grass, distant laughter fading. Focus. Nat, nearby. He darted past a tree and spilled along with a group out towards the crowded street.
"Leave Asia alone!" people called.
Sharp whistles blared. Rupe grimaced, muscles strained.
"Back to lessons!" a officer's voice amplified. "Now!"
Crowds parted. Rupe pressed onto the street, fixing his hood, and reached into his pocket. He crossed with those for Montemare College.
"Back inside, Lambert," a wizard said strictly.
Rupe's starlet less orange. He crossed towards Paris Magical Conservatory and back down to Beauxarts Academy. Don't expose. He clicked his watch open. Ten to noon.
Rumors drifted about Bobby Kennedy joining the U.S. Muggle presidential nominations. After work, Lyssa Kowalski had messaged and Rupe parked his scooter and Apparated to Le Arche Apartments. He landed harshly on the pavement but hurried inside.
Upstairs, Rupe reached number thirty-four panting. Lyssa stuck her head out and ushered him inside. Rupe stepped in and she closed the door.
At the table, Nat hid a bottle and Rupe tossed his bag down at the wall.
"It's mead," Nat slurred. "Not sure what'd happen if I were full drunk."
"Great," Rupe said. "What brought this on?"
Nat raised his bottle. "Say three years, this thing's still on, but then if we hadn't." He twitched his right wrist. "I'd have Britished like that!"
Rupe drew up a chair. "We're all mostly exempt, mate."
Nat swigged, wiping his chin, but set the bottle down. "It's thirty-three percent alcohol, your face honestly," he snickered.
Lyssa beamed, waving, and went into her bedroom.
Rupe snatched the bottle. "So what's up?"
"That's got Polish Jewish germs," Nat said clearer.
Rupe splashed Nat, smiling, but Nat vanished the mead.
"Your point?" Rupe wiped the rim.
"You're persistent," Nat said normally.
Rupe lowered it, sweetness enveloping. "I'm not suicidal or a drunk, all right?"
"Nah, but I worry about friends at 'home'." Nat made air quotes. "I can't see me as anything else but Polish honestly. America's overrated."
Rupe wiped his whiskers. "So one side's overly materialistic and the other whatever you do it benefits society?"
"Greed vanishes," Nat said. "Of course we've got the 'unnatural' problems being literally unable to mingle, but that'll have to fade. Satellites, eh?"
Rupe flattened down the bottle label. 35%.
"Not just rumors the Magosoviets've mastering radar. Gimme," Nat said.
Rupe set the bottle away. "What's up, mate?" he said kindly.
"Go home if you need it," Nat said somberly. "We can't keep paying each other back."
"Of course you've got Lyssa." Rupe smiled weakly. "You thought beyond getting to Poland, besides, what's the humanities college there?"
"Śródmieście in Warsaw, among others elsewhere," Nat said slowly. "My ma always dreamed of getting in." He flicked his wand.
Rupe grabbed the floating bottle. "Only one problem."
"Yo?" Nat smiled. "What're they s'posed do, expel all the Jews?" He snatched the bottle and swigged, gulping.
Rupe swallowed. "Maybe," he mumbled thickly.
The weekend edged closer and the Phoenix Union arranged portkeys for Friday after lessons. And what, get Nat and Sanders Blackburn laughing together again? Sanders made time for Rupe, before the Spring Ball and Edgar Bones' coming of age party.
"Us?" Rupe said hoarsely with his head in the sofa cushions, at the Nest that Saturday afternoon. "I donta know the Boneses." He hiccuped and snickered.
"We know Matilda," Mum said. "It would show something, with how Molly Prewett stood up on Sunday."
"Kay's prat." Rupe pushed his head up. "House rivalries're worst." He grabbed the empty firewhiskey bottle, peeled himself up, but plopped down. "Besides, Shabbat, we can't, move."
Mum swept over and held a hand out.
Rupe chuckled, licking the last bits out of the rim. "Hi."
Mum snatched the bottle away and pulled Rupe up, stumbling.
"How do you feel then, sweetheart?" Mum's perm tickled.
"Better." Rupe tugged his arm away. "What'd bout the Prewetts?"
"Considering how capable you are-"
Rupe collapsed in the armchair laughing, but pulled his tingling bum deeper. Numb? Mum's face slacked.
"Remember tellin' auntie cousin off?" Rupe raised the empty bottle but it slipped.
Mum summoned and vanished it. "Yes, I do. Now, Sobering Potion." She swept away.
"No!" Rupe floundered his legs at the floor, but rolled over easily. "Fine," he exhaled, but hiccuped.
His body lighter, everything slowly fading. Breathing.
Insides heavier, softness enveloping. "Arty?" he groaned, head pounding, but his arms thrashed. "Arthur!"
Arty stumbled in, collapsing in the blue swivel chair. "Rupe, you're home. I'm fine." He rolled over still half leaning. "We're all fine."
Rupe raised his free wrists, peeking starlet fallen from a bandage. "When?"
"March, '68." Arty reached Rupe's neat desk. "Mum reckons you and Sanders found a pub. In Camelot Hill anyway."
"Right." Rupe rubbed the Star of David, starlet a weird orange and yellow. "Someone get you, mate?" He brushed his shell and starfish beads.
"Last month," Arty said anxiously. "I'm doing better."
Rupe sunk into his pillow. "I'm sorry," his throat thick. "Keep pushing away."
"You're okay, Rupie," Arty said softly. "We're always here. Anything I can get you?"
"Potion, my head." Rupe summoned Kenver and wrapped his arms in Kenver's wings, pressing his wrists together. "Where're you going now?"
"Besides to get potion?" Arty's deep voice grim. "Kelynek, back with Brax soon."
Rupe mumbled, body prickling. Arty rolled away and out the door towards the bathroom, still in the chair. What happened?
A/N: Poor Weasleys :( Feel free to leave kudos, comments, or simply enjoy reading. And I published a Weasley one shot collection last week: Weasley Tails, first story centered around Molly and Arthur leading up to the inciting event of Cor Aut Mors. Thanks for reading.