A/N: Warnings for implied past torture and flashbacks, and a subtle suicidal offhand remark. Please note this perspective will have more warnings.
"[Seeing things] no one else can [see] isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world." - Ron Weasley, the Chamber of Secrets (1998)
R
Rupe gasped, shivering in the clammy quilt. Arthur, older and dripping? Rupe peeled the quilt off, clean. Kenver's wings gone. He lit his wand shakily, wrists tied. He clicked his watch open, knocking over a phial.
Quarter to six. He tugged off the bandanna and wrenched himself out of bed. Right onto his bum, cushioned, but he pulled up into his soft desk chair. He wrenched the Cornish flag from over the mirror, raising his wand.
"Sabina Mielnicki," Rupe said thickly, shadowy face pallid. "Urgent!"
His image swept. Light flashed across the Kowalskis' kitchen, towards the sofa and Polish flag, dimming over Nat's door and flashed over bookcases to Lyssa's bedroom door.
"Stupid." Rupe raised his wand, but Arthur?
Her door swung open. Lyssa scampered past the sofa, her bushy hair wild, wrapping in a Paisley dressing robe. She panted, reaching the mirror, and flopped her dark curls out of her face.
She leaned against the counter. "Rupe?"
"Never mind," he said hastily, tugging at the flag.
"You're a mess," but she smiled. "I'm here."
Rupe flipped on the desk lamp. "Nightmare, but it felt more real," his throat hoarse.
"Drink something. What happened?"
Rupe swigged water, dripping. He wiped his chin hastily. "Arthur, caught," he inhaled sharply. "Erm, probably nothing."
"Even if just a dream, you're worried," she said kindly, "but it felt more real?"
"Panic." He rubbed his chest, sinking into his chair. "Hogwarts. And…" but fading. "A riot?"
She glanced across the room. "It's Valentine's Day. Does it feel like a prediction?"
He licked his damp lips. "How's your aunt Lally?"
"That would cause a riot, tak," she said quieter. "How are you feeling now?"
Rupe rubbed his starlet gemstone, wrist itchy. "They're so slack nowadays."
"Whatever's happened," she whispered, "a riot can't have happened yet."
"I know," he managed thickly. "Different, I think. Still plans with Nat today?"
"Da. Who wants us?" She smiled slightly. "Feel free to join us, if things don't work out with Julie."
"Think Hogwarts that bad?" His chest caught.
"I hope not, but honestly." She bowed her head slightly, curl falling. "Maybe something that could happen, but not necessarily."
"Sure it could be anyone." He turned back, towards the kitchen. "Maybe later, but you've got a phone."
"Anything you need. Nat's got a special breakfast planned for today." She paused. "And it's okay, hard being away for us too."
"Arty's so reckless too," Rupe mumbled.
"Nat should be up soon," Lyssa said. "I can cover and mute the mirror if you need."
Rupe ruffled his hair. "Don't bother Nat with much details."
Lyssa shook her curls. "Even if something's happened…"
"My brain's just escalating it." Rupe sat up carefully. "Anyway, I'll get potion and come for breakfast."
Lyssa nodded, smiling. "Keep taking care of yourself."
A door creaked open. Lyssa sat back. Nat plodded into his bedroom doorway, dark curls matted.
"Just because I said breakfast, mate," Rupe chuckled.
Nat raised his black yellowish starlet. "I was ready to wake up anyway, pal." He smiled slightly, face glinting. "Get over here."
"In a bit." Rupe raised his wand. "See you." He tapped the mirror, vanishing, and tugged the flag over. He plodded to the kitchen, washed, and threw the potions cupboard door open.
Halfway into his jeans, Rupe's knees buckled. A crack but nothing hit. Rupe crumbled, head slumping padded wood. He gasped, pink thighs marked.
Nobody towered. Dim light behind. A bed? A Cornish flag, mirror peeking. Rupe fumbled in his jacket, pulling out his chocolate frog card. Eulalie Scamander smiled brightly, currently Headmistress of Broadoak School. Rupe waved his hand:
— CritterAdvocate & Astro3Girl —
Aquaball: I need help.
It faded, warming sharply. Minutes? He wrenched his jeans over his tingling bum, belt loose. Breathe. He loosened a few buttons, chill fluttering. He wrapped in his jacket and settled on a cushion.
A knock on the door.
"Rupe?" Lyssa Kowalski said half frantic. "You okay?"
No.
The door unlocked. Lyssa shut the door, shoving the keys away, a purple and blue blur.
"Rupe?" Lyssa said.
"Here," Rupe's voice vague.
Lyssa dropped to her knees, tucking a beret away. "Flashback?"
"Emotional," he muttered. "Mostly."
She slowly crawled over. "Nat's calling your parents, but I came right over."
He sniffled. "Jim."
"Roommates help, da." She held a flabby pink hand out, starlet orangish yellow.
"Nat's doing better." Rupe shifted.
"Is your bed soft enough?" Lyssa patted the side of the mattress. "This doesn't happen often?"
"Been a month." Rupe grappled for her hand.
"Here." Lyssa gently guided him up, curls tickling. "I'm glad you've got cushions."
Rupe settled against the bed. "I can't do it alone."
"We'll see what's going on and figure it out." Lyssa sunk her head down away, smiling. "Untamed hair, right?"
Rupe chuckled, brushing his mop top. "Still can't, in France." He turned stiffly, belt loose. "How's Nat?"
"Dropped the spatula and ran for the phone," her Brooklyn accent slipped.
"If something really is wrong?" Rupe tossed his belt off.
"After four thirty there, so we'll see." Lyssa sat up slowly. "What's next?"
"Nat, still bright." Rupe took her hand.
"Takes effort for all of us," she said softly, but stood up guiding him up.
Stumbling, she helped him to his chair at the counter. He sunk down and she made tea. Rupe swigged it, muscles easing.
"Mates?" Nat's voice called, ages later.
Lyssa hurried over to the mirror and tugged off the Cornish flag, clearing security, but stepped aside. "We're here. Rupe's doing better."
"What happened?" Rupe said sourly, as sizzles from the other side.
"Look, no details but your mum looked the clock and hung up," Nat caught a stammer, and Rupe sat up. "Whatever's happened, they just found out."
"Why would it switch?" Rupe shifted, bum tingling. "What the hell was he doing last night?"
Nat stuffed his face with a fluffy pancake, chewing carefully. "Good time for a meeting," his Parisian accent hinted.
"Or a date."
"It's late there either way," Lyssa said calmly. "How's breakfast coming?"
"Come get 'em while they're hot," Nat said. "You're okay, pal?"
"Can you pick an accent, mate?" Rupe swigged tea, muscles relaxing.
"Barnet?"
"Just not French," Rupe said lighter. "We're coming."
"Gotcha." Nat grinned lopsided, bits flecked in his braces. "Food calls." He tapped his wand and he vanished.
Somehow, Rupe and Lyssa made it downstairs to the shabby reception fireplace, heads hidden. They stepped out into the nicer reception and back up a lift, he clutched her hand. His breaths shaky.
At the third floor, they let go and set down corridors with appearing newspapers along the doors. They reached number thirty-four, no paper. Lyssa knocked and unlocked the door.
Maple apple cinnamon and buttery fruit flooded. Lyssa swept over to Nat, magically laying the table, but he sent Le Peuple back to the counter. Nat ushered Rupe over, napkin waving at a spot.
"Eggy bread however you like it, mate," Nat's Barnet accent stronger, as Lyssa went to wash. "Loads've jam and fruit."
"D'you just stock up?" Rupe washed and drew up the chair.
"Hope so." Nat levitated the pancake platter over, sliced fruit and jam scattered messily around heart shaped pancakes, and some chocolate and peanut butter jars. "Today's special, eh?"
Rupe chuckled lightly. "Frankie…" His chest tightened. "What'd my mum say exactly?"
"Get some food first," Nat said tiredly, levitating the maple syrup down. "What d'you usually eat with pancakes?"
"This, not all British are crepes." Rupe spread butter on pancakes. "I had Calming Draught already." He passed over the raspberries.
Lyssa set down the eggy bread plate. "Eat what you can. We'll give away anything else."
"After I'm done." Nat slathered syrup on pancakes. "Baked beans're still in the fridge thing." He scattered bananas slices on. "Why don't they have the Floo back home?"
Lyssa opened the blue icebox. Rupe cut his pancakes and took a bite. Sweet apple cinnamon eased.
"You're okay, mate?" Nat said softly, whiskers yellowish.
"Better." Rupe's whiskers sticky. "Were my parents awake before you rang?" He dropped a few blueberries on his pancakes.
Nat wiped his face with a napkin. "They'd gotten a message but it wasn't too urgent to scare them, but when I called." He winced. "I said you're okay but, yeah, the family clock changed." He chewed eggy bread.
"So if not in the sitting room…" Rupe swallowed. "How involved are you with the Phoenix Union?"
Lyssa came over, spoon sticking out of warm baked beans in a bowl. "Enough, mostly protection. How hungry are you?"
"Eat up, Chana." Nat plopped beans on his plate.
Lyssa sat down and filled her plate magically.
"Last thing," Nat poured milk in glasses, "your mum said wait for contact if anything is severely wrong. Go about the day normally." He squirted chocolate syrup in his glass.
"Who else d'you know besides the Flamels?" Rupe picked up eggy bread. "You got cheese?"
Lyssa waved her wand and cheese slices floated over.
Rupe settled one on, breaths uneasy. "How, erm, d'you melt it?"
Lyssa waved her wand. "Liquescimus."
The cheese melted. Nat chewed, dazed, lowering his fork of bean juice.
"Nat?" Lyssa said.
Nat shook his head, cutting his leaking pancakes. "Whatever really happened here years ago." He chewed a small bite. "I know I'm obsessive about it."
"Every reason to." Rupe nibbled his eggy bread. "So you found your uncle's family again?"
"Maybe, someone's anyway. Kids're magical." Nat flicked his wand at his dirty napkin and it folded into a simple wolf. "Lured us then-" He smashed it with a fist. "Everyone forgets it wasn't only Jews."
"Depends," Rupe lowered his milk, whiskers flecked, "or few others care to talk about it." His lip twitched. "Needed you, mates."
Lyssa smiled but Nat squished strawberries into his pancakes. Rupe dribbled syrup on his, red streaks flashing. Arthur? Rupe's chest warmed and he hastily ate a bite.
"So," Nat's voice a bit carefree, "France has to deal with all the refugees Germany's refusing to deal with. Non-magical advocates, creatures, anyone from the east, even golems. That's super messy." He went on.
After breakfast, Rupe and Lyssa left Nat distracted at the sink, magically making bubbles dance. On the sofa. Rupe slipped his chocolate frog card, but only:
CritterAdvocate: Still here, mate?
"How're you both?" Rupe muttered, as Nat hummed a vaguely familiar patriotic tune but not French. "Being, home?"
"Odd, but not that we really remember much," Lyssa said. "We're taking it as first timers."
Rupe's wrist itched. "Yeah." He nodded back. "Bets that's Polish."
"Tak," she said. "So what're we able to do?"
"Paris is bleddy expensive, that's all." Rupe sat back, popping behind. "How're the bubbles, Nat?"
"Unedible," Nat said foamily. "Yuck. What's your plans tonight?" He rinsed and spat.
"Call the cinema typical." Rupe pushed himself up but slumped back. "Can I keep this?"
"You need a armchair at least, mate," Nat said. "When're your lessons?"
"Eleven," Rupe mumbled, floundered but grabbed Lyssa's hand. "Got morning shift."
"Take it easy." Lyssa helped Rupe up.
Rupe steadied. "We gotta learn somehow."
"Your parents want this?" Nat turned stiffly, suds over his lower arms. "I thought your Seattle apartment was better."
"Two's cheaper too." Rupe plodded for the door and unbolted it.
"Arty'll be okay, mate," Nat said. "More worried about you just now."
Rupe panted, fingers scratched.
"Rupert, what's wrong?" Lyssa said carefully.
Rupe's back prickled. "He better be." He wrenched the door open and shut it behind.
After book shelving half aware, Rupe predicted his untimely demise and couples cuddled everywhere. Rupe avoided Julie Fortescue in a dazed Elementary Spellwork lecture and he quickly pressed out in the crowd, but they thinned outside Beauxarts Academy.
"Wait!" Julie called. "Kenver, wait!"
People chatted muffled. Julie Fortescue stopped, smiling as she fixed her green beret. Her fair waves tousled over her blue cloak.
"Are we going to the cinema still?" She fingered her seed beads, shells scattered. "Or somewhere?" Her floral earrings swayed, lips pink. "Rupert?" she whispered.
"Erm, nobody else tonight?" he managed in French, fixing his coat and tieless mod suit.
"We promised." She stepped forward carefully. "Is everything all right? You seem, not here, more so."
He fiddled with the Husher Clip on his wool cap. "Oh, things have come up so I don't know if it'll work out or not," he finished in English. "I meant…" He exhaled. "Of course I wanna go out, but, it…"
"No, things happen," she said kindly. "Can I help with anything?"
His heart skipped. Be normal.
Rupe smiled slightly. "I'm fine, merci."
Julie nodded. "Of course. Future wise, I wouldn't mind a ride on your scooter whenever." She turned pinker. "Apparation can be uncomfortable."
"Sure." Rupe adjusted his school bag. "See you," he added in French.
"Let me know about tonight." Julie waved and rushed off, wrapping in her cloak.
"Prat," he muttered, fiddling at his empty shirt collar.
Off Rue Saint-Vincent, he avoided the law orderers around Foggy Alley and through gaps down Rue de l'Abreuvoir, shops decorated. A girl giggled somewhere. Finally through the moving bronze Pythia and Rupe dodged the policeman, down the steps along normal shops and attired people mingled.
Ahead of a theatre, he unlocked his blue Lambretta and sped along the curving street, fluttering muscles relaxing. Partly camouflaged, he passed a telephone booth. Wait for contact?
By the 3rd arrondissement, nothing. The Louvre, busy. The Seine ahead, but friends and couples walked along smiling? His starlet orange and black, sea beads heavy. Back up shops, his pocket warmed. Down until he pulled up into an empty scooter parking spot, a boy walked off to join a girl. Rupe slipped out his card, tugging off a glove.
CritterAdvocate: I'm off work. Heard anything?
Aquaball: Nothing. Coffee?
CritterAdvocate: You know where.
Rupe looped down streets and wandered a thrift shop. In a quiet mirror, he tucked his mop top under a blue beret but the sides stayed.
He bought it and stuffed it in his coat. Down the major road and he turned off, along a street. A crowd on the stone walkway ahead, snow fluttered off a old soldier statue raising a spear atop a horse. Cirque D'Hiver.
Almost forgetting where, Rupe sped past the Musée Picasso until surrounded by peeking restaurants and cafes. He parked and set down the streets. One kosher restaurant, two, three, kosher pizza. Rupe reached a menu flecked with snow, tables empty, and red flecked restaurant ahead, Hebrew translation fresh. Smart?
Flickering orange sparks flickered. Rupe signaled back and the camouflaged wizard vanished. He messaged, passed the tables, and pushed the door open to Chez Jacob, soft jazz easing.
People laughed, mingling with heads free under dangling paper hearts. A young man crouched towards his knees across from a gasping woman. Dark curly heads scattered everywhere. Rupe pressed along and gently tugged his wool cap up, muscles tensing. His pocket warmed. Nat Kowalski raised a flabby arm over a menu, table laid with coffee. Rupe drew up the chair.
"You're a bit late, mate," Nat said in a Polish accent, lowering the menu, his curls sticking out of his dark red beret.
"Ever been to a brilliant circus?" Rupe sipped his coffee.
"Chicago, '55, before the pizzeria's grand opening," Nat set his mug down, tone slacking. "How's your cheese?"
"Chancily melted," Rupe said slyly. "I might've actually found a beret though."
Nat smiled slightly. "Try it on then."
"Curls are one thing, mate." Rupe snatched the menu. "How many Jewish here in Paris overall?"
"Some three hundred thousand," Nat caught his slipping mixed accent. "You'll blend in with all the hearts around." He indicated up.
"I told Julie maybe."
"Nie, go," Nat's scars tight, stifling a wince, "anywhere. This is our chance, not theirs." He swigged.
"So better off French?" Rupe sipped his coffee, no shellfish on the menu.
Nat shifted. "I dunno. Still nothing here."
"It'll take time," Rupe said softly.
"Yeah, well, my parents hate coming near here," Nat said. "Even the Olympics last week was hard enough for him. Food, mate?" He lifted the menu.
"The trout, no wine."
"Not yet." Nat stood up carefully and smacked Rupe with the menu. "You've got this." He plodded off, right arm stiff. "I can pay, honestly," his Barnet accent snuck.
Rupe sniggered. Nat tossed the menu back. Rupe caught it, but dropped it, starlet blacker. Sanders. Rupe set the menu on the table, and Julie across flickering.
After an entree, Rupe flitted over the Seine with cold dirty seawater drifting. Was Dabrowski, oak grove, really any better than Kowalski?
Back at the shabby flat, Rupe ripped open Le Peuple and a fresh tear across the ink. Vietnam massacres. Traffic in the French Alps from the Muggle Winter Olympics, wizards shaming their lost roots. And growing student disturbances in Poland. Mixed hope and tension for Britain's next Muggle protection heritage act.
He threw the paper down and picked up a Paris guide. Full moon? It fell and he raised his starlet, deeper black. Almost four? He wrenched his coat on and hurried out.
Telephone booths all crowded, for one holiday? Another Zano rally? Messaged ahead, Rupe kept up to Le Arche Apartments. Partly visible, he cleared with Phoenix Union security.
At number thirty-four, Rupe knocked sharply. The door cracked open and Nat peeked out, wand raised. Rupe hissed questions and Nat unbolted the door, and let him in.
"Rally or what?" Rupe said sourly, as Nat locked the door. "What slipped to tell me?"
"I live like this," Nat snapped, "because guess what?" He tossed off his beret, panting. "If they've gone after anyone then it's on us." He jabbed a thumb at his chest.
"Have you rang anyone?" Rupe swept over to the kitchen.
"Nie. Could just be Sanders being stupid really."
At the counter, Rupe tugged the red receiver up and dialed the operator. "Calling me crazy, Kowalski?"
"Sure, we probably are."
Rupe cleared through the operator. Nat stumbled over, around the dining table, tugging out a chair and fell into it. Rupe slumped into another, dropping the telephone set beside a dirty plate.
"Come on," Rupe panted. "Someone!"
The Nest kept ringing.
"Where else?" Nat muttered, Rupe's hair fluttering.
"Shop? Friends? If it's just Sanders-"
"Finish the job, yeah," Nat said hastily, pulling back.
Rupe dropped the receiver, clattering. "What?"
"Just, in general." Nat's muscles stiff. "Phone?"
Rupe held the receiver out, rings fading. "So what? Call the Fortescues? Goldsteins? Longbottoms?" His hand shook.
Nat steadied Rupe's hand, pulses swift. "Listen to that, pal." His peeking starlet black, arm loosening. "Whatever's happened, it's not half-" He inhaled.
Rupe dropped the receiver and gently raised his hand to Nat's shoulder. "You okay?"
Nat breathed, chest heaving steadier. "Yeah." He clutched Rupe's other arm. "Do your parents half panic?"
"Maybe, better at keeping it in," Rupe's throat thickened. "Both've yours been-"
Nat rubbed Rupe's arm, blurry. "Utter hell. His kids're out there somewhere."
"Still?" Rupe swallowed.
"I dunno." Nat pulled away and summoned the receiver, untangling the cord. "They know something."
Rupe wiped his face but Nat tugged at the cord.
"Here, mate." Rupe held a hand out.
"Just a phone," Nat gasped, tossing it at the set.
Rupe raised his arms and Nat fell into them, shaking. Rupe rubbed Nat's tense back, his shoulder soaking, and Rupe kissed Nat's curls.
"Still here, eh?" Rupe whispered. "Believe we've got time, mate."
"Brothers?" Nat wheezed.
"Yeah," Rupe inhaled, nicer flat around. "We're in Paris."
"Paris," Nat mumbled. "Safe?"
Rupe chuckled thickly. "Never safer anyway, right?"
Nat murmured in Polish, breathing heavier. Great. Rupe shifted carefully. Nat stirred, but Rupe helped Nat push their weight up. They stumbled around the table, into Nat's bedroom.
Just inside, Rupe helped Nat into his red egg chair and panted, pushing Nat past Spud's ferret cage, who sat up. Nat slumped onto his Polish eagle quilt. Kneeling carefully, Rupe pulled the quilt up over Nat's curled legs up to his chest, handing him his soft badger. Nat hugged it, breathing easier.
"Rest, mate," Rupe uncapped the Enhanced Sleeping Draught phial on Nat's cabinet, measuring it. "Nothing you need to pay back with."
Nat sniffled. "After that?"
Rupe's back tingled. "Ya. Because guess what?" he said shakily.
"What?" Nat shifted.
Rupe wiped his face. "Been nothing without you, eh?"
Nat nodded, blinking wetly. Rupe picked up the glass and lifted Nat's head. Nat swallowed, settling. Rupe rubbed Nat's shoulder, adjusting his mustard roll-neck collar.
"Nos da," Rupe whispered in Cornish, kissing Nat's bushy fringe.
Lyssa Kowalski suggested to give it another night before calling again and Rupe slumped into dreams. Shivering in snow, reaching a peak, but guarded.
The next morning before leaving, Lyssa messaged the French Ministry had let Nat off work. Rupe managed getting through the Defensive Charms lab and ate lunch through the Ancient Runes lecture.
Afterwards, Rupe risked a telephone booth half camouflaged, charming the door. The other side rang and rang.
"Hello?" Mum's voice said.
"Mum!" Rupe clutched onto the booth, but cleared questions. "What happened?"
"It's Arthur, yes," she whispered dourly. "How much do you-"
"Tell me," Rupe's throat bitter. "Ya, a nightmare. Real?"
Mum gasped. "Out at night, a date, it, he-" she inhaled.
"Mum?" Rupe leaned against the glass, back slouched. "Mum, please."
Mum's sobs muffled.
"Cedrella," Dad's voice distant. "Rupert?" he said clearer.
"Arthur?" Rupe managed. "Can't be."
"Pringle, found in a detention chamber," Dad said. "Top security that night. Old wounds reopened mostly. You stay there."
"Like auntie cousin?" Rupe slammed a fist into the coin thing. "Who was he out with?"
Mum gasped.
"Who've you talked to, son?" Dad's voice looser.
"Kowalskis, who else've I really got?" Rupe's face hot. "We're not fragile!"
The receiver slipped, his fingers sweaty. Distant voices. Rupe summoned it and slammed it back. He tore his way out of the booth and loosened his coat, cold. He jumped on the Lambretta, body sharp, and rode on.
Back in his starry quilt, Rupe shook clutching his knees. Pleas closer. Dripping. Nat's shrieks. Duncan spluttering. For Hogwarts? Sanders snapping. Rupe gasped, face hot. Salty. Clean?
"Weasley," a harsh voice spits.
"Proud," Rupe spits.
The darkness dimming. Sanders? A hospital? Lyssa smiles, brighter?
A dimmer bed, starry? Quiet clinking. Rupe exhaled, heart hammering. He shifted, wrists loosely tied and Kenver's grey wings flopped open.
"Rupe?" Lyssa's voice said. "Paris?"
"Nat?" Rupe managed.
"Doing better now." Lyssa a blue blur. "How's living alone?"
Rupe wiped his face. "Duncan?"
"Someone at least," Lyssa whispered.
Friday, finally, but rain poured. Julie Fortescue helped Rupe in Elementary Spellwork lab but he predicted more riots at Hogwarts in Sight Reading, his own future vague. Rupe dared to meet up with Nat Kowalski outside Montemarte College, friends seeing him over after French.
"I'm still not sure which degree." Nat clicked open his dented silver watch, splattered candlesticks ticking past noon. "You able to graduate with both Divination and Charms?"
"They're often together, yeah," Rupe said. "Is college properly interesting?"
Nat pulled his hand out of his pocket. "Probably more when I find the right thing. Weekend?"
Rupe nodded. "He's mostly fine, but," he exhaled, cold air fogging.
"Breathe, mate," Nat said softly.
"All I'm doing." Rupe went ahead.
Nat joined Rupe's side, away, but smiled slightly. They split, mingling in young adults and out the Pythia. Down a street, Rupe turned on his Lambretta. Flightless. And rode home.
The next morning, Rupe dragged himself up and only able to get honey toast down, he sped via portkey to the White Cliffs of Dover shivering. Rain splattered. The wizard nodded and Rupe pocketed his passport.
A familiar long worn patched coat flapped over, and Rupe's muscles jerked. Dad inhaled, peeking balding head wet, arms half raised.
"Dad." Rupe fell into Dad's arms.
"Rupert." Dad carefully wrapped his arms, warm, and they breathed security. "You're freezing. Come on." He raised his left arm out.
Rupe swallowed and gripped it.
"Ready, son?" Dad said. "Just your mum's home."
Rupe nodded and they Disapparated.
In Crantock, rain drizzled and seawater wafted. Dad guided Rupe through the back gate past the fruit tress. Swings swayed, branches half dead but cherry flowers blossomed. Birds huddled in the nest boxes.
"Welcome home, eh?" Dad said.
Chickens warm in the coop, vegetable patch still covered, and they made it to the tiny back porch. Wind chimes jangled, garlic cloves laced. Dad knocked and unlocked the door, ushering Rupe in.
Warmth enveloped, hot cocoa whiffing. Dad shut the door.
"Rupert!" Mum came out of the kitchen, caramel blonde waves looser.
Rupe tugged his coat off. "Arthur?" He dropped his knapsack.
Mum took it gently, drying it. "He's in the sanctuary infirmary at Hogwarts now, but hopefully ready to come home today."
"And Hogwarts?" Rupe pressed into the kitchen and sunk into Arty's chair at the floral draped table.
"What about it, sweetheart?" Mum headed to the counter, hands free, and washed.
Dad trudged down the hall, stopping at the coat rack.
"The reactions," Rupe said, as Dad went into the sitting room.
"Oh." Mum stirred hot cocoa. "It's a mess with the Prewetts but in all cases, it was in romantic hastiness." She set the mug on the table from the other side.
"What was it?" Rupe levitated it and sipped it, throat soothing.
"As I said," Mum said simply, pouring herself hot cocoa. "To save any leadership, which wasn't the pursuit that night, the E.V.F. had to let any girlfriends loose. All are in the rumors, I'm afraid." She sipped cocoa.
"Lovely." Rupe wiped his whiskers. "I told him to be careful with Molly Prewett, if she's-?"
Mum nodded, sitting down. "Not that her parents are happy with the leak, as traditionalists are calling it. I expect the Prewetts will do everything possible to ensure she comes out directly after leaving school."
Rupe scoffed. "Not even Julie Fortescue's come out yet."
"Are you two still dating?"
"Casual," Rupe said hastily, swigging. "I didn't realize how rare red heads really were there."
"You can't hide your face forever, sweetheart," Mum said softly.
"That's our destiny forever way it's going," Rupe's throat sour. "How free's she anyway?"
Mum set her mug down gracefully. "Who?"
"Hogwarts." Rupe's whiskers flecked.
"Much freer, but it will take more time and hard work to liberate her completely."
Rupe's wrist sharp, starlet deeper orange and black. Not the bleddy Cannons.
By afternoon, Dad had gotten Arthur upstairs from a one time Floo connection to the sanctuary and Kay was at the Towlers for today after a Hogsmeade suspension. As Mum cooked a quick bowl of corned beef soup, Rupe plodded upstairs.
At Arty's ajar bedroom door, Rupe messaged shakily. Flying aerocraft dangled more from the ceiling inside and his pocket rewarmed. Rupe knocked lightly and stepped inside, smiling.
"Rupe." Arty glanced up pale, under his aeroplane quilt with Pooh Bear loose in his arms.
"Hey, mate." Rupe treaded over and Arty's gerbils squeaked from their cage. "How're you feeling?"
"Most sleep I've gotten in ages," Arty said. "How're you?"
"World didn't explode." Rupe dropped onto a cushion by the bed carefully. "Worth it?"
Arty smiled weakly. "Was safe," he mumbled.
"Yeah," Rupe said heavily. "We'll get this fixed up, I promise."
"Too slack." Arty stiffly shifted. "Of course they wanted me, outta it."
"D'you, remember?" Rupe flexed his shoulders.
"No." Arty flopped Pooh down, onto his nose. "Harsher than normal."
Rupe swallowed. "Get your rest, eh?"
"You too." Arty sunk into his pillows.
Rupe smiled slightly, pushed himself up, and plodded out past Muggle advocacy and Red Rock Institute posters. Arty breathed heavily, dreaming? Rupe stepped out, door ajar. His fault? His chest knotted but he pushed his back up.
"Done for." Rupe pushed his own bedroom door open, books still scattered, and bright mischievous smiles. His muscles collapsed. He curled up, gasping.
The next morning, Kay Flooed home and persisted on being extra nice to Rupe during breakfast. Rupe smiled, fading, and kept eating. Dad dropped a coin pouch beside Rupe's plate. Rupe grabbed it but Kay kept eating.
"Thanks," Rupe pocketed it, "but I'm doing okay." He swigged his tea.
"You look like a wreck, mate." Kay got more hog's pudding sausages. "Sure, Arty, but still."
"So how's Hogwarts really?" Rupe cut his omelette.
Kay chuckled, smiling slyly. "D'you really think we went to detentions?"
Mum slapped Kay's arm. "You need to make up for it tomorrow."
"Great," Rupe said. "What're we doing for lunch today?"
Mum sipped her tea. "Orchardside for whoever can, but I need to stay home with your brother."
Kay wiped his face. "How much gold's in your pouch, mate?"
"Nothing you haven't earned with no Hogsmeade," Rupe said lighter. "No touching."
Kay raised his eyebrows, but shrugged. "Glad you're home anyway." He turned to Dad. "Got some more things for Friskytoys almost ready."
After breakfast, Mum hurried to check on Arty while they put the food away. Rupe scraped more of his leftovers into a container but Kay chewed a hog's pudding, container full.
"Not eating less normally?" Kay closed it with his cleaner hand.
"Harder out of school." Rupe finished his last half eaten potato cake.
"Do what you can, son." Dad put a container in the icebox. "Anything you need help with, that's what it's all for."
Rupe took the one from Kay's hand before he grabbed it with the other but Kay put their dishes in the sink.
"What were your parents able to help with?" Rupe said, Dad ahead of the green icebox.
"Loads've skills and a small handful of sickles." Dad stepped aside.
Rupe put his leftovers in the back and Kay washed. Dad closed the icebox and the coins weighed in Rupe's lower jacket pocket.
"Just accepting it, I guess," Rupe said. "Nobody'll see us any differently whatever we do."
"Changed some, but that'll take time."
Rupe's neck cricked. Kay dried his hands, smiling slightly.
"Septimus!" Mum cried.
Dad dashed out. Kay turned sharply, staring back slackly at Rupe.
"Did you-" Kay indicated out.
"What's wrong?" Dad panted upstairs.
Hasty whispers. Arthur's door shut.
"It won't stay like this." Kay hung the towel on the stove handle. "We still don't know what they did to Frank Longbottom last-" He stepped aside.
Rupe pushed the water on. "Warnings and we didn't catch any."
"Well, you don't talk," Kay's voice strained. "How do we know what to expect?" He hurried out.
The cuckoo bird tweeted at Wash Dishes on the chore clock.
"Shut up." Rupe dried his hands. "Shut it!" He flicked his wand and it stopped.
He threw out the coin pouch, legs shaky. It joggled, landing sideways.
"Mate?" Kay said down the hall.
"I'm fine!" Rupe's voice cracked, as he clutched the counter leaning on his sore elbows.
"Rupe," Kay said shakily, closer. "Who could?"
Rupe inhaled. "What?" he coughed.
"After that?" Kay picked up a mug from the table and he filled it with sink water. "Don't shut us out, okay?" He put it down beside the toaster by Rupe's wand.
Rupe shakily drank some. "Arty." His hands trembled.
Kay held his out and set the mug back down. "What about him, mate?" his soft voice smaller.
"What was bad then, upstairs," Rupe's voice odd. "Now."
"Close, I think, but they won't say." Kay leaned on his elbows, leather patched. "When'd you find out?"
Rupe chuckled, throat thick. "Minutes? I dunno, about five am there." He traced the lion on the mug.
"Nightmare?" Kay said breathlessly. "Molly got back at four am here."
"How's she?" Rupe picked his wand up, vine warmly steadying his fingers.
"Quiet," Kay muttered. "They were probably writing more than we thought last term."
"Yeah, well, doesn't last sometimes." Rupe sipped water.
"Julie?" Kay teased slyly. "Or Regina Spinks, Jim'll have-" He cleared his throat.
Rupe lowered the mug. "How's Regina's advocacy?"
"Less, but still. Julie?"
"I dunno anymore." Rupe's back tingled. "We could've had a term sooner together."
"Then what?" Kay said. "You gave us a voice, mate."
Rupe swallowed. "I helped."
"Well, yeah." Kay summoned the coin pouch. "I meant us Weasleys." He jiggled it, backing away.
"Like your wand?" Rupe twitched a lip, stepping over.
"Or your, chess set?" Kay flicked his old blackthorn wand. "And Arty's…they can't know that, right?"
Rupe shrugged carefully and tugged off the kitchen towel. Kay deflected and Rupe shot a spell towards Kay's leg. Kay split it up sending it back. Sparks energizing, Rupe summoned the pouch.
"So long you share a bit." Kay pocketed his wand. "You happen bring your chess set home?"
Rupe laughed, chest oddly light. "Depends, eh?" He jiggled the pouch and left. "Mum?"
Clocks ticked. Birds tweeted outside. Rupe turned into the sitting room, Muggle advocacy papers and books everywhere. The pouch joggled. At the mantle, Rupe wiped dust off and a ceramic bird chirped quietly.
Rupe sniffed. On the dark oak family clock, everyone's hands together at home. Arty's bear paw and Rupe's lion paw half on top of each other. Kay's flame underneath.
Careful heavy footfalls somewhere and Kay knocked lightly.
"Hey, mate," Kay's voice loud enough. "Feeling any different?"
"Bit. Says Arty's okay," Rupe said stuffily. "You've changed."
"Well, maybe since Valentine's." Kay leaned against the doorway. "Okay, trying keep Arty safe since term started. We need him there."
Rupe pushed the pouch aside with his foot. "I, erm, well, something's coming. Bigger."
"You seen something?" Kay straightened up.
"Vague, I dunno really. Might be a few years off." Rupe's lip barely twitched. "If you stay, just know that."
"Great," Kay said. "But, try to straighten up. You're slouching again."
Rupe shifted his leg, sore, back heavy. Kay came in slowly.
"I try," Rupe said.
"Yeah," Kay muttered. "Not your fault, mate." He stopped beside the armchair, shaky pink hands out.
"I accepted the risk." Rupe slumped into the armchair.
"Sure." Kay crouched down. "Still pounced. And that's over." His jaw set, red whiskers flecked with light.
Dad's tired footfalls downstairs. Kay turned around.
"Boys?" Dad said. "Where you to?"
"Sitting room, Dad," Kay said. "How's Arty?"
Dad stepped into the doorway, lowering his arm from his damp forehead. "We had to replace the bandages, but he's okay now. Asleep."
"Dad," Rupe's voice wavered, chin against the back cushion. "Seriously."
Dad came in. "Exactly what they wanted, him out of Hogwarts. He can't recover there, even if they back away."
"For a girl." Kay stood up. "This ever happen then, Rupe?"
Rupe chuckled slightly. "Sure, Sanders. Duncan McCrimmon. They caught Nat Kowalski and Tessa Wood once in a nook in their fifth year. Nat realized the cane's as bad as the paddle."
"Not sure what's worse," Kay said sourly. "Or how casually you're saying it."
"It's gotten better," Dad said. "No details, but-" He glanced at Rupe.
"Come on, what?" Rupe pushed up, back heavy.
"Used to sit there," Dad said stiffly. "Donald Moody got us out usually." He shook his head. "We stay calm and sensible, then they might just consider it better."
"Yep," Kay mumbled.
"Never mind the detentions, Cadan," Dad said sternly. "Fabian Prewett."
"Yeah, obviously," Kay said sarcastically. "Their high end: 'how'd three normal schoolers get into Hogwarts like that'?" He snapped his fingers, and Rupe flinched. "Sorry if we're brilliant too."
"Kay," Rupe brushed his starlet, "you gotta be careful now-"
Kay turned sharply. "This lot doesn't curse people."
"Some Gryffindors do, don't they?" Rupe's voice strained, but he coughed. "We don't need the Prewetts under pressure."
"Yeah, well, Alecto Carrow's supporters're still around somewhere," Kay said disgruntled. "I'll be in my room." He swept around Dad and out the room.
Dad summoned the coin pouch. "France tomorrow, Rupert?"
"I thought I might stay for a few days," Rupe said. "I'll stick to Cornwall."
Dad nodded. "Beauxarts should understand, but time I said what happened at Hogwarts on Friday."
"Great." Rupe straightened out carefully. "Who's at proper fault?"
Dad laughed slightly and dropped on the sofa. "Seventh years, but don't worry, they're perfectly fine."
A/N: To Jewish culturally aware readers, please feel free to point anything out and I will fix it accordingly. If you don't like these sort of stories, you don't have to read. Please be thoughtful towards these themes.