Hogwarts Duo
First Year
Does it get any better than ADMM?
Posts: 53
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Post by Hogwarts Duo on Jul 11, 2010 19:03:54 GMT -5
Sweet! I love updates and this is a fun story!
Siofre is certainly a strong witch and has a determined mind. I hope she is successful in helping Gwyneth. Her husband sound like someone that needs to be taught a very serious lesson!
Lydia is a big flirt and she seems to be a bit of a matchmaker, too. I am really happy with the way you're developing the relationship with Johannes and Siofre. They're just too sweet together!
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Post by MMADfan on Jul 12, 2010 18:11:30 GMT -5
Hi, Hogwarts Duo!
Yep, Lydia's trying out the role of Yenta just a little it here -- at the very least, she wants Siofre to loosen up and have a little fun, and fun with the gardner would be just the ticket, she thinks!
Glad you enjoyed the update! I'm going to try to work on LVS this week, so the next update will probably be in that fic. Severus & Gareth are just leaving the Tyree place.
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Post by MMADfan on Jul 22, 2010 22:19:44 GMT -5
Chapter Nine: Breakfast with SiofreSiofre came into the morning room to find Johannes already eating his breakfast of cheese, thin-sliced cured bacon, and rye bread. “Good morning, Professor—no, don’t get up,” she said as he began to stand when she entered the room. “Good morning, Madam Tyree.” Sorrel popped in. “Still liking salty porridge for breakfast this morning, Madam Siofre?” “Aye, thank you, Sorrel,” the witch replied, taking her seat. “And bacon. Cooked.” She looked with distaste at the large slice of pale pink bacon that Johannes was folding and placing on a slice of the dark-brown rye bread. Sorrel Disapparated. “You are up early,” Siofre observed. A pot of tea appeared on the table in front of her. “I have much to do today. I have some work that I need to do in my little garden today, too, so I want to start early. You have plans for today? You mentioned that you are visiting Mrs Terwilliger again.” “Aye, this afternoon after lunch. This morning, I’m paying Maisie a visit, and we’ll have lunch together.” “I hope that you find Mrs Terwilliger in good health.” Siofre nodded. “I will be able to tell you this evening, if you are here.” “I planned to return to Hogsmeade as usual,” Johannes replied. “But I will be interested to hear your report tomorrow afternoon. Shall I come by for you at three-thirty?” Siofre nodded. “You had a visit to make before that—a garden to check on?” “Yes. It will not take long. I will be here at three-thirty.” “I could go with you. I would enjoy seeing your work.” Johannes hesitated. “To be honest, I would not go there myself if I could excuse myself. It is a matter of professional pride only that I go. I find the family . . . uncongenial.” Siofre’s eyebrows rose. “Really? In what way?” “They are always . . . polite, you understand. But they are rude at the same time. They are . . . hm, hochmütig . . . haughty? Is that correct?” “Aye, I know the type,” Siofre said. “They also treat the house-elves with less care than I would treat any creature. I found it shameful. I will accept no new work from them.” “Who are they? The Blacks? Or the Rosiers?” Johannes shook his head as he swallowed a bite of bread and cheese. “It is the Mellifluas. They hire me last summer to replant their herb garden. I also planted a small bed of Mandragora. They will soon be ready to harvest. Today I check on their state.” “I was in school with a Melliflua. Haughty is a good word to describe them. I don’t know if I’ve met one who wasn’t. They’re part of the English pureblood set. Unpleasant lot. I was surprised, actually, to discover that our Malcolm was seeing one of them. She seems all right, though.” “Professor Gamp is nothing like these people. She is one of the finest witches I know. And her family . . . she may have some less pleasant relatives, but her brother Gareth was killed in the fight against Grindelwald, and her parents seem nice. They treat their house-elves well, I believe.” Siofre shrugged. “I know Columbine slightly. She tolerates her relatives better than I could. I do not know an that speaks well of her or no. But the Gamps do seem better than the Blacks and Rosiers. Do you know,” Siofre said, lowering her voice, “that in their bondage ritual, the Blacks actually . . . require service or death from their house-elves? And they take that literally. A house-elf becomes decrepit in any way, and they . . .” She shuddered, unable to continue. Johannes’s mouth was open, but nothing came out. Finally, after blinking several times, trying to comprehend what Siofre had told him, he said, “They should be in prison. Do you say this is legal?” Siofre shrugged. “Apparently. The heads are placed on display in the family home.” “That is sickening.” “And they call the Muggle-borns inferiors,” Siofre said in disgust. “The Blacks are among the worst of that lot. Any decent Blacks are disinherited and treated as nonentities by the rest of the family. The Gamps are not like them, although they have had the bad taste to marry the occasional Black. The Princes . . . well, perhaps one day, Lydia will tell you something of her family.” “They are pureblood? Are they like the Blacks?” Johannes couldn’t imagine a sweet, humour-filled witch like Lydia coming from a family like that. “They’re pureblood, more or less, depending on what a person counts as ‘pure,’” Siofre said. “But they aren’t always very nice people, though they put great stock in what they consider ‘proper’ behaviour. Her parents did, any road. Her brother, Bertrand, wasn’t quite as closed-minded.” Siofre hesitated. “Lydia was always a vibrant witch, interested in everything. When she was a girl, after Hogwarts she wanted to go to the Academy of Magical Musical and Dramatic Arts in London. It was a great dream of hers . . . Her parents disapproved. It was not a proper pursuit for a lady, in their opinion.” When Siofre didn’t elaborate, Johannes asked, “Did she go there anyway?” “She tried. She moved to London. Without her parents’ support, she didn’t have the money to matriculate as a full-time student, but she took the occasional class. She worked in the little theatre that used to be around the corner from Gringotts, but only backstage, I think. I don’t know what she did, particularly, but she had hopes . . . Then she had a spot of trouble. Her parents wanted even less to do with her then, and her brother . . . the help he offered would only be temporary. He had recently married, and Carlotta was expecting their first child. There were limits to what he felt he could do. Murdoch had always had a soft spot for Lydia when they were in school. When he learned of her situation from Bertrand, he offered her marriage, and Lydia accepted.” “Trouble? What sort of trouble?” Johannes asked. Siofre raised one eyebrow. “What kind of trouble can a young witch find herself in?” “Ah. Ah!” Johannes nodded. “I see.” “I should not have told you about this, but . . . you seem to be a wizard of discretion. And it was a very long time ago now.” “But what happened? Is Bertrand—?” “Bertrand is my brother’s son, and their only child. Ironically, as is often the case in life, Lydia’s trouble resolved itself a month after their marriage.” Siofre poured herself another cup of tea and sipped it, a pensive look on her face. “But she and Murdoch remained married?” “Of course. And they were happy together. Lydia’s dreams were never fulfilled in quite the way she had hoped, but she did have more music lessons, and she spent some time teaching piano, herself, both privately and at the academy. And she had her family.” Siofre gazed out the window and sighed. “Their son was born quite a number of years after she and Murdoch married. She had difficulty carrying a child to term. It was sad for them both. They were overjoyed when Bertrand was born.” “Where is he now? You have spoken frequently of Lydia’s grandson, Connor, occasionally of her granddaughter, Phoebe, but rarely of Bertrand.” “He and Sally are somewhere in Asia, I believe. Or perhaps in the South Pacific. We hear from them occasionally. They left about . . . twelve years ago. They’ve not been back since. Bertrand didn’t hear about his father’s death in time to return for the funeral.” Siofre shrugged. “They were going on a two-month holiday and never returned.” “How very odd.” “Phoebe has seen them—she reported that they seemed quite well. It was in the Philippines about four years ago. She was in Japan for some specialised metal-charming training, and so she stopped there to see her parents before returning home. She spent two weeks with them, and she said they had a good time together.” “I hope you enjoy your morning with your daughter.” Siofre nodded. “What are your plans for today, other than working in your garden?” “Fandenz and I will plant the bere your cousin sent. We plough the southern machair this morning. It is only a small plot, a few acres, but we will see how it does. If it is good, we will do a second planting later in summer, perhaps ten acres. We will see the yield on that and plan for next year—if it does well.” “Good. Martin said he would be happy to talk with you if you have any questions or run into a problem.” “He could look at the field, perhaps, when the barley grows.” “Ah, perhaps. He seldom leaves Tiree Beag.” “He will not be here for the bonfire?” “Probably not. But there will be others from the island, and Jacob—that is his younger brother—will be here with his family. They will stay overnight, possibly through the weekend. Jacob also grows bere. If you would like, he would look at your bere field, I am sure.” “Good. Will there be many people staying through the weekend?” “Aye. I hope that Minerva will come, also. She canna be here for the bonfire, but we are having Murdoch’s birthday party on Saturday, and she said she would try to come for that. Her duties at school may not allow it. But the rest of the McGonagalls will be here. Lydia is overseeing getting the rooms ready for everyone, planning the meals, and so on.” “How many guest will there be?” Johannes asked. “Not including the wee bairns, about forty for the bonfire, most of whom will stay overnight for the picnic and Murdoch’s party on Saturday. I think some will be coming for the picnic, but not the bonfire. Lydia has a more exact count of who will be here when. I am happy not to worry about that.” “The bonfire pit is prepared, and I will finish the work on the area next week. It will be ready for the Beltane party.” “I have no concerns there, either,” Siofre said. “It is still two weeks away.” Johannes nodded and pushed back from the table. He looked at his pocket watch. “Do you have to leave—tonight, I mean?” Siofre asked. “I have detained you long enough this morning.” “I have an appointment early in the morning with Madam Puddifoot. She has expressed interest in our herbs, then I have another with Kyle Flatiron at the Three Broomsticks. I hope to interest him in our vegetables. He already has a supplier, but perhaps we can offer him some variety.” Siofre twitched a smile. “Very good. Thank you. I should be doing that.” “You are busy, I know, and I have the knowledge of the gardens and what we can supply. I will make you good deals, I hope.” “And what of your own customer base?” Siofre asked. “Don’t neglect your own business. I know you have devoted yourself to the estate. You should take care of yourself, too.” “I am making a delivery to the apothecary, as well, and I have a meeting with Murdoch. I will develop more customers. Murdoch introduces me tomorrow to Madam Vivian Ballard, the chief potioner at St. Giles Clinic.” “Good lad,” Siofre said with a nod of approval. “I will see you tomorrow afternoon,” Johannes said. He hesitated. “I could stay for dinner tonight. I planned to eat in Hogsmeade, but if it is not an imposement . . .” “No imposition at all,” Siofre said. “I can tell you about Mrs Terwilliger then. And I know Lydia will enjoy having your company, as well.” “It will be my pleasure, then.” “And if you are here for dinner, you might as well stay tonight, then. You could make an early start after breakfast. Unless you have a need to be in Hogsmeade tonight, of course.” Johannes smiled. “That would be practical. I have little in my flat for breakfast. I usually have black coffee and Knäckebrot—crisp bread—on Saturdays.” “Oh, now, that will not do! Had I known! Multry!” Siofre called, ringing her little silver bell. “Multry!” The house-elf was there before Siofre had finished calling for her. “Madam Siofre?” “Aye, Multry, it is now your duty to provide the magister with fresh milk, bread, cheese, and whatever else he may require, before he leaves the estate on the weekends or at other times when he will be returning to his flat in Hogsmeade.” Multry smiled and nodded, but Johannes shook his head. “Nay, that is not necessary! It truly is not—” Johannes’s protests were cut off. “It is necessary, Professor,” Siofre said sternly, Multry nodding seriously in agreement. “You devote yourself to the care of our estate every day. It is not right that you return to a cold, barren flat!” “Truly, it is not cold and barren.” He looked at the witch and the house-elf, then conceded defeat with a smile. “Thank you, Madam Tyree. Thank you, Multry.” “You tells me when you leaves for Hogsmeade, and I give you what you needs,” Multry said. She shook her finger at him. “If you do not, I follow you with a basket! You does what Madam Siofre says!” Johannes inclined his head. “As you say, Multry, I must do as Madam Siofre decrees,” he said, his eyes sparking, “and do it with a smile!” Multry grinned and nodded. “Good good!” “The magister leaves tomorrow morning, early, right after breakfast. Provision him accordingly. That will be all for now.” Multry popped away, and Johannes turned to Siofre. “You spoil me utterly, Siofre,” he said softly. “Not at all.” She stood. “And now I must be off to my daughter. I will see you this evening.” “Have a good day—and take care at the Terwilligers’. Come safe home.” “Aye, and you, Johannes.”
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Hogwarts Duo
First Year
Does it get any better than ADMM?
Posts: 53
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Post by Hogwarts Duo on Jul 23, 2010 12:45:45 GMT -5
JOHANNES + SIOFRE = ABSOLUTE CUTENESS!!!!!
I love this pairing and I can't get enough of it. They're adorable together and I am loving how their relationship is growing. I never knew I could fall under the spell of two original characters but you've sold me on these two.
I adore how Siofre and Johannes both want to spend time with the other but they're somewhat shy about it. Awwww!
Thanks for taking the time to write this story. I am definitely a GLM!!!
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Post by MMADfan on Jul 26, 2010 10:38:09 GMT -5
Hi, Hogwarts Duo, thanks for your review! I’m glad you’re enjoying the story and the way the relationship between Johannes and Siofre is developing! Here’s the next chapter – hope you find some Johannes & Siofre cuteness in it, too! Chapter Ten: News from AbroadWith the distant sound of Lydia at the piano downstairs, Siofre closed her journal and set down her quill, having entered her notes about the new charms she had cast on the Terwilliger house and the potion she was planning to have Murdoch brew for Gwyneth. The last thing that she wrote, though, was “J.B., tomorrow at 15.30. A date for tea with the gardener.” Aye. Tea with the gardener. Master Herbologist, Professor Johannes Birnbaum. She looked out the window of her study and saw the magister, as she liked to refer to him, working quite a distance away from the house, but still a tall and impressive figure, his back to her. It was a warm afternoon, and he had been working hard. Johannes had shed not only his work apron, but even his waistcoat, and she could see where his braces met in a Y on his back, dark against a white shirt, its sleeves rolled up. He was waving his wand, and although Siofre did not know what he was after doing, she saw shimmering lines lay themselves down on the turf, bright and shining, subsiding to a chalky white. He looked like a conductor before an orchestra. A tiny figure appeared suddenly beside him—Sorrel, she thought it was, from the shade of pink the house-elf was clad in—and the magister stopped what he was doing and turned to the elf, speaking to him, then getting down on one knee and examining the contents of the basket the elf offered him. Unaccountably, the sight of the tall wizard kneeling in front of the house-elf brought a lump to Siofre’s throat. Johannes nodded to the elf, who Disapparated, then Johannes stood and carried the basket over to the small worktable he had set up for himself. Siofre watched as Johannes poured tea from a flask into a mug, but then her own tea arrived, brought to her on a tray by Multry, and when next she looked out the window, Johannes was back at work, his mug of tea in one hand, his wand in the other, laying down the shimmering white lines where some new garden would be. Clouds were gathering in the west, and no doubt they would bring a hard rain with them when they arrived. Likely that was why Johannes was back at work again, taking sips of tea in between spells cast, wanting to get as much done as he could before he had to quit for the day. The bright chalky lines would survive a rain, Siofre was sure, otherwise the magister would not still be casting them. Lines, arcs, helixes, glowing brilliantly, then still bright white even after fading into the grass: the sight of them forming and fading seemed to mesmerise her. The wind picked up, almost taking Johannes’s hat, but he pulled it down further on his brow, slipped his wand into the wand pocket of his trousers, and turned toward his worktable. As he walked toward it, he took one final long swallow from his mug, draining it, then he carefully packed the basket back up, shrugged on his waistcoat, buttoned it, pulled on his dun-coloured over-robe, then packed up his gardening things in his large canvas bag. He shouldered the bag, picked up the basket, then just as a flash of lightning tore through the sky, he turned to head towards the house, thunder cracking over head. Good that the gardener was staying for dinner, Siofre thought as she took a sip of tea. Apparating even the relatively short distance to Hogsmeade would not be wise during a thunderstorm. She could hear the door to the kitchen open and then close with a clatter. One corner of her mouth twitched upward. It was good to have Johannes in the house. She had liked the man from their first meeting, but she wouldn’t have guessed then that she might invite him to stay at the estate; even after she had hired him late that winter, it never entered her mind. He was far from family, after all. He was just a wizard contracted to do some work for them, and yet he brought a sense of steadiness and peace with him. His presence in a room always made it seem warmer, somehow, and anchored . . . But that was foolishness. It was not as though the rooms would just fly off the face of the earth without him there. They simply . . . seemed curiously empty. The previous weekend, Lydia had commented several times about how very odd it felt not to have Johannes there, which in itself was odd, Siofre thought—despite sharing the sentiment, though not giving it voice. After all, most of the man’s work took him out-of-doors; it wasn’t as if he was even in the house very much. She was glad that Lydia liked him. Lydia was a sort of people-person, as the expression went, and it was good to have a man about the place, another person to keep Lydia company. Siofre hoped that, now that he knew more about her past, Johannes would treat Lydia no differently than he had done. She doubted that he would. Still, it had been indiscreet of her, and Siofre chided herself for allowing herself so much comfort and freedom with the wizard, however solid and kind he might appear. As she had told Lydia all those weeks before, he was, after all, only a man. Rain now fell in heavy drops, and thunder seemed to rumble from the hills themselves. A large Eagle Owl, desperate, it seemed, flew against the glass of the window, saving itself and swooping down before flying back up as Siofre leaned forward, wand in hand, and opened the window to the bird. “Ach, poor thing!” She closed the window before taking the rolled parchment from the owl. “You stay here a while, then we’ll find you a place to bide the storm. And for your trouble . . .” Siofre reached into her drawer and pulled out several large rabbit-flavoured owl treats and scattered them on the floor for the creature. There were two parchments, Siofre saw now that she could take a good look at them, sent by international relay post, tied together with a bit of ribbon and a strong sticking charm. She removed the dark navy ribbon, then used her wand to release the charm. One letter for her, the other for Lydia. Her eyebrow rose. A peculiar coincidence, it was, that she should speak of her nephew the morning of the very day they received letters from him. Siofre didn’t hesitate to break the seal on her letter. Lydia was still playing in the music room, the music stopping, starting, then stopping again, phrases repeated, varied, then repeated again. Auckland, NZ Tuesday, 14 April 1959
Dear Auntie Siofre,
Sally and I are well, and we hope that you and Mammie haven’t kilt each other yet! (Sally says I must not be flippant!)
So in all seriousness, we hope you are both well. Mammie’s last letter sounded cheerful, but they usually do. She says you have found a new gardener to whip the old place into shape. I hope the house-elves like him and do not find they have to chase him off, with you cursing his bollocks off – sorry, Sally says that’s rude – with you rendering his family jewels into dull little pebbles. Is that polite enough, Auntie? Sally says I should get on with the letter, so I will.
We are making our way home. We plan to arrive on the 29th (that’s this month, April), but we haven’t commissioned the Portkeys yet. We have accumulated quite a lot of stuff, though, and we are sending said stuff on ahead of us, since we still have to settle things here and tie up loose ends. The trunks and cartons should arrive at Hogsmeade station by the regular evening train on the 24th. That’s what they promise, anyway. I asked them to have a “notify” letter sent with the trunks, and they’re supposed to notify you by owl when they arrive. That’s why I’m writing early, besides letting you know we’re coming home. Can you have someone pick them up for us? They have to be signed for by a witch or wizard. I gave them several names of people who can collect them. After they’re accepted, maybe old Mynok or one of the other elves could get them home for us. These are the people who we said could sign: you (of course), Mammie, Minerva, Malcolm (is he still in Hogsmeade? that could be convenient), Murdoch, Maisie, Connor and Liz, Phoebe, and little Melina, though I guess she’s not so little now. Didn’t include Morgan and Fiona, since they probably haven’t got the time to sleep, with four wee ones (did they use potions, or what?), or Dorcas, since it sounds like she still wanders about in a fog most of the time. Sorry to put you in charge, Auntie, but you always manage everything so well, and the station will charge two Galleons a day storage if they aren’t picked up within twelve hours of arrival. And the station isn’t open at night, so that means they have to be fetched that evening.
Do me a favour, if you read your letter first, don’t tell Mammie we’re coming home. I’m sending her a letter with this one, and I want to be the one to surprise her!
We can’t wait to meet little Liam – and don’t worry, Sally’s writing Connor and Liz a letter, too, so they’ll have the news, and another to Phoebe and Declan. (Sally says now they have no excuse not to marry, since we’ll definitely be able to make it to the wedding!) Feel free to let anyone else in the family know, if you like, or Mammie can. She’ll be happy to, I’m sure. If we wrote every friend and relation to announce the news, we’d never make the first Portkey!
I hope we’ll be in time for the Tyree Bealltainn bonfire! We will be doing one, won’t we? It’s something we’ve missed.
Oh, and Sally says I should say that we hope we’re not putting you out, and that if we can’t stay at the estate, we’ll get a room in Hogsmeade, but of course we both know that’s just foolishness, but Sally still insists I say it.
Looking forward to seeing you, more every day now that we’re actually returning soon!
With love, your nephew, Bertrand
PS Hi, Aunt Siofre! I’m looking forward to seeing you, too. And if we’re having the bonfire, we’ll both help any way we can. – Sally
Siofre smiled and set the letter down. So Bertrand and Sally were coming home. It sounded like they meant to stay, too. What they would do with themselves once they’d settled down, Siofre hadn’t a clue, but she’d let them worry about that. She picked up the second sealed letter. Time to deliver Lydia’s post. The Eagle Owl had fallen asleep on the back of a chair. Siofre called Gweller and asked him to bring the owl someplace more suitable than her study, then she made her way down to the music room to find Lydia. Siofre waited until Lydia had finished adding notation to the manuscript paper she was working on. “Letter for you, hen.” “Oh! Who from?” Lydia scanned the staves and ran her fingers lightly over the piano keys, but without pressing them. “Bertrand.” Lydia’s attention immediately shifted from the piano to her sister-in-law. “From Bertrand! Oh, wonderful! I haven’t had one from him in almost a month!” She snatched the parchment from Siofre’s outstretched hand, then broke the seal impatiently. Siofre watched as Lydia’s eyes scanned the first lines of the letter. Lydia’s expression changed from one of happiness to one of sheer delight. “He’s coming home! He and Sally are coming home! In less than two weeks—there’s so much to do! Oh, my, and I have to tell everyone!” Her hands shook with excitement as she continued reading the letter. Johannes stepped into the music room, dressed now in black trousers, a white shirt, black waistcoat, narrow black bow tie, and a satiny black over-robe open down the front and flowing out behind him. Siofre thought he looked quite handsome. He had brushed his hair out after his work, but had not tied it back again, and Siofre liked the way his soft, sandy hair swept his shoulders. “It is good news?” Johannes asked, seeing Lydia’s expression as she read her letter. “Oh, it is wonderful news!” Lydia exclaimed. She finished reading the last lines of the second sheet of the letter, then she turned to Siofre. “They’re coming home!” She grabbed Siofre in an embrace, almost hopping up and down. Siofre smiled and patted her back. Lydia then turned to Johannes and threw her arms around him, squeezing him exuberantly. “He’s coming home, Johannes! My boy, my son, he and Sally are coming home!” Johannes smiled and returned her embrace, then put his hands on her arms and looked down into her face. “I am very happy for you. Siofre has spoken to me of your son and his long absence.” Lydia stepped back and plopped down onto the piano bench, taking in a deep breath and letting it out. “I don’t know what to think! Where to begin! Oh, my, I must write everyone. I wonder if they have written to Charles and Louisa?” She looked at her letter again. “He doesn’t say. Do you think Sally wrote her sister, Siofre?” “He didnae mention them in his letter to me. I believe he is leaving that to you, though I may be mista’en. Bertrand only mentioned that Sally was writing the childer, Connor and Phoebe.” “He may have written his cousin—he didn’t tell you?” Lydia asked. “Nay, he said aught about Charles or Louisa.” “Do you think we should invite them to the bonfire? Or to the picnic and Murdoch’s party?” Siofre’s brow furrowed. “They ne’er seem sair couthy at our ceilidhs. Not their kind o’ thing an’ all. Indeed, I’m sure Bertrand and Sally will make time to visit them in a wee.” Siofre turned to Johannes. “Lydia’s nephew Charles married Sally’s sister Louisa,” she explained. “Ah. Close family ties, then,” Johannes observed. “Aye, so a body would think,” Siofre said drily. “When do your son and his wife return?” Johannes asked Lydia. “He says that he expects to arrive on the twenty-ninth, although they aren’t sure about the Portkeys. They may be a day or so earlier, or perhaps a day later. Since it takes a while for correspondence to get here, even using international relay post, I don’t know whether we’ll know for certain until they actually arrive! Oh, I must tell Gweller—he and Bertie were always close when Bertrand was a boy—and let the other house-elves know, too. We will have to get their rooms ready for them! Oh, and we should have a party for them . . .” “They’ll be here for the May Day celebration—which is also Murdoch’s birthday party. I think we can wait to have another party for a while. And you know we’re having Maisie’s party here in June.” “Still—” “Let’s wait and see what they would like, eh, hen?” Siofre suggested gently. “And you forget that Connor or Phoebe may wish to do something for their parents.” A smile split Lydia’s face. “Oh, Liam will be so very excited! He’ll be meeting his Tyree grandparents!” She looked out the window at the rain and dark skies. “I wish it weren’t storming so! I would Apparate right to them now!” “Maisie said it will clear overnight,” Siofre said. “Why don’t you write letters to everyone else tonight, and then in the morn, you can pop down and see Connor and Elisabeth first thing and talk about your plans with them.” “Yes, I’ll get up early and go see them,” Lydia agreed, adding doubtfully, “I think I’ll have to write to Phoebe, though. I don’t fancy trying to Apparate to Ireland and back.” “’Tis a bit far,” Siofre agreed. “P’raps I could go, though. I thought I might nip over to Tiree Beag this weekend, anyway. I could go there forenoon, then just skiddle across and see Phoebe. You could send a letter wi’ me, an she’s away, I’ll leave it. Tell her to call by here when she has time during the week.” “Would you, then? Oh, that’s a relief!” Lydia glanced up at Johannes. “Siofre’s much better at long-distance Apparition than I am. Actually, she could Apparate to London and back several times in one day and not be in the leastwise winded! I find it hard to do a single round trip without a nice break in between. And don’t ask me to Apparate far over water! I almost Splinch just thinking of it!” Siofre chuckled. “Then dinna think on it, hen. We need you whole. Go speak with the elves. This time o’ day, they’re likely all in the kitchen.” Lydia bustled off, letter tightly held in her hand. “So, and you are happy too?” Johannes asked Siofre. “Aye, that I am. I think they plan to stay now—although I do not know if they will live here or elsewhere.” Siofre gestured toward the door to the sitting room, and Johannes followed her into that room. “They’re welcome, of course, but they may prefer to live in town—Glasgow, p’raps. Or even down near Connor and his family, though the wizarding neighbourhood they live in is quite small, just a cluster of cul-de-sacs, really. They might have to live in a Muggle neighbourhood if they were to move to Silloth-on-Solway, and I don’t know how they’d feel about that. It can become quite complicated, I understand. The Coopers, Elisabeth’s family, are Muggles, and they live there.” “Ah. It is probably good for Connor and Elisabeth to live near them, then.” Johannes knew that some Muggle-borns lost touch with their Muggle families when they married into the wizarding world, which thought saddened him. “Liam can know his Muggle grandparents.” “Indeed. They are good folk.” “For English?” Johannes asked with a teasing twinkle in his eye. Siofre chuckled good-naturedly. “Aye. For English. For anyone, actually. They are both schoolteachers. Intelligent, modest, open-minded folk with a sense of humour.” They each took a seat in the sitting room, and Siofre waved her wand to close the curtains, then flicked it at the fireplace, lighting the logs in the grate. “We will have to look to cutting wood soon so that it will be ready in the autumn.” “Speaking of wood, do you remember an old coppice down by the cottage?” Johannes asked. At Siofre’s nod, he said, “It has not been tended in a long time. It is an unsightly mess, and the woodland is suffering for it. It is sad now. Would you like the coppice to be renewed, or would you prefer it to be thinned out through singling and made into an ordinary grove of trees?” “I do not know . . . I must consider that. However, whichever we do—or whichever you do for us—we can use some of the cut wood from there, certainly, and leave several cords for Minerva, as well. It was a very large coppice, an I remember right. It had several sections, so a different portion would be harvested every year. Would it be a lot of work to restore it?” “Ja, actually, yes. It could be begun this year, and the entire area prepared, but if it is to be sectioned so there is always a yearly harvest . . . that would take as many years as it takes a single coppiced wood to mature. Do you remember the cycle? It was eighteen years, perhaps?” “Nay. I do remember that some trees were on a short seven-year cycle, but others were on a much longer cycle. Thirty years? Fifty?” Siofre shook her head. “I am sorry. I don’t remember.” “That is fine. I will make a survey of the trees. The types will tell me their cycles. I saw no oak, but they would have a long cycle.” “Good. That is something I would enjoy helping you with. I would like to learn more about it, and how to properly tend it.” Johannes smiled. “I would enjoy your assistance. We can take a look at it together next week. How was your visit with your daughter?” “It was good. Dorcas came home for lunch, in fact, and she sends her regards.” “Ah, yes, how is she? She is still at the Ministry?” “Aye, and right miserable, too. I think she should try some other type of work, though I don’t know what would suit her.” “I am sorry to hear that. She seemed very bright at school, but I think the structure of the Ministry would not suit her. She is probably also not challenged.” “She also dreams too much. She gets twice the work done in half the time that it takes others, but it does not matter if she does not appear to be working the rest of the time.” Siofre sighed. “I sometimes think it may have been better if Jonathan—that was her father—had married Maisie for the sake of the child, but he was a ne’er-do-well and a layabout. Probably not a good model of a wizard, and not a good husband.” “I will see if I can think of anything that might suit Dorcas better, and I will speak to Professor Flitwick, as well. He has many contacts. He may even know of something in the Ministry itself that would be better for her talents.” “Ach, thank you, Professor, but you needn’t—” “You call me ‘Professor,’ but do you forget why? I was her Head of House. I shall be most pleased to help her if I can, and I am certain that Professor Flitwick also feels that way, though he did not teach her.” Siofre smiled softly. “All right, then, but you already do so much for us. Thank you, Johannes.” “It is, as I said, my pleasure, Siofre. You know . . .” He hesitated before continuing. “You know you may call on me for anything. The contract is for the grounds, but beyond the grounds, beyond that time I spend, and spend gladly to make this place beautiful and productive for you, beyond that, I hope I can also be a friend to you. It would please me if it were so.” Siofre felt herself uncharacteristically fighting a warmth rising in her cheeks, but she nodded. “You have been, indeed. And tomorrow we take tea.” Johannes smiled warmly. “Aye, and it will be my reward for being diligent and checking the Melliflua mandrake garden! I look forward to it. It is an honour that you do me, Siofre.” Siofre chuckled and shook her head. “Not so. But I look forward to it, too.” The dinner bell sounded, and Siofre was surprised to look up at the mantle clock and see the time. “Shall we?” Johannes rose and offered her his arm. Siofre placed her hand on his wrist and stood. “I believe I know the topic of conversation for tonight,” she said. “Would that be the return of a son?” Johannes asked with a smile. “Aye, the beloved son and his wife,” Siofre replied. “I hope that Lydia stops talking long enough to enjoy her dinner!” Johannes chuckled, and the two walked together to the family dining room, where they heard Lydia already there, chattering to one of the house-elves about new mattresses. Siofre and Johannes looked at one another and smiled.
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Hogwarts Duo
First Year
Does it get any better than ADMM?
Posts: 53
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Post by Hogwarts Duo on Jul 26, 2010 18:16:28 GMT -5
This is such a cute chapter.
I love how Siofre is so moved when she sees Johannes bending down to speak to the house-elf. It just goes to show that he's a wonderful wizard regardless of whether Siofre is watching or not. Awww.
And Lydia was practically jumping off my screen with her enthusiasm about her son and daughter in law returning home. I hope she's as hapy when they actually arrive.
And I can't wait to see how Johannes and Siofre's tea date goes. That should be loads of fun. Their flirting is absolutely adorable.
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Post by MMADfan on Jul 31, 2010 10:07:33 GMT -5
This is such a cute chapter. I love how Siofre is so moved when she sees Johannes bending down to speak to the house-elf. It just goes to show that he's a wonderful wizard regardless of whether Siofre is watching or not. Awww. And Lydia was practically jumping off my screen with her enthusiasm about her son and daughter in law returning home. I hope she's as hapy when they actually arrive. And I can't wait to see how Johannes and Siofre's tea date goes. That should be loads of fun. Their flirting is absolutely adorable. Glad you’re enjoying it, Ang. I’m glad Lydia seemed to be practically jumping off your computer screen – she’s twice as excitable as Siofre is reserved, I think! Johannes is a very sweet, kind wizard, and Siofre really appreciates that in him. Thanks for reviewing here, too! I have the next chappie formatted for the board, and I’m posting that now!
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Post by MMADfan on Jul 31, 2010 10:12:49 GMT -5
Chapter Eleven: A Little Sweet on You Siofre drew out her watch and looked at it. A little after two. Whatever Lydia might think about her Apparition skills, Siofre was feeling the effects of several long-distance Apparitions that day. She didn’t make a habit of lying down during the day, though, and she wasn’t about to start now. She would walk down to the lodge and double-check everything. Morgan and his family would be arriving in the morning, and all the house-elves in both households had been enlisted to shift everything from their house in Inverness to their new home there at the estate. The lodge was large, and Siofre remembered when the Mackenzies had lived there, many years ago now. Jake Mackenzie had been a schoolfriend of her grandfather’s, and he, his wife, his children, and eventually, their grandchildren, had lived in that lodge, and Jake had done all manner of work for Séaghán Tyree. Jake and Emma’s daughter, Grace, had moved away when she married—an event that Siofre only remembered as a fact, though she retained no clear recollection of it herself—but Jamie, the Mackenzies’ son, and his wife Sarah had stayed on for a number of years. Siofre had played with their children, Norma, Alice, and Marigold, until finally they moved away at the birth of their fourth daughter, Oona. Older than her brother Murdoch by almost six years, Siofre had missed having playmates closer to her own age, but not for long, since she soon started at Hogwarts, landing in the same House as Norma and Alice. There would be plenty of room for the McGonagalls, with some to spare, Siofre thought as she looked into the large, partially furnished nursery. For convenience’s sake, until they were a little older, the quads would share a single bedroom, but there were six bedrooms in the house, plus the nursery, so there would be more than enough room even if the couple changed their minds and decided to have more children. Siofre looked into each room, some of which were already furnished—or partially furnished—with things from the main house. It would be good to have some life in the place again, and good to have children running about, too. Over the years, various Tyrees, McGonagalls, Marshes, Mackintoshes, and other relatives had stayed in the lodge, occasionally for several months at a time, but now it was to be a real home again, and Siofre felt it was almost as though the old lodge knew this and was quivering with impending life. Of all the houses on the grounds, this was the one closest to the main house, and Siofre had felt its emptiness keenly, particularly after she had returned permanently to the estate after Herbert died. It seemed sad, sitting there empty, especially at dusk, when the windows were blank and the building slowly merged with the shadows until it disappeared. Soon, though, there would be lights in those windows again, and the lodge would come alive. Siofre left the lodge and walked around the outside of the house, admiring the gardens that Johannes had planted. He had done a lot very little time, and yet it all looked lovely. The man had a good eye. He had even planted a little kitchen garden for the lodge, though the McGonagalls could help themselves to any of the vegetables from the main gardens. It was convenient, though, to have culinary herbs and salad vegetables growing close to the kitchen. Fiona had been pleased when she had come by earlier in the week and seen the results of Johannes’s efforts. She had declared him an absolute treasure, which had left Johannes blushing. Siofre smiled. Johannes did blush rather sweetly at times, often out of modest embarrassment, but occasionally, she had elicited a blush from him herself, and although she had scolded herself for it later, it had been amusing to see how he had blushed at the touch of her fingers on his hand down at the machair, and then later to tease him just a bit, tickling his skin with her magic and to see him blush and fight a stutter. After all, Lydia was not the only witch in the world who enjoyed a little flirting. Now, though, Siofre felt a slight twinge. She ought not play with the poor man so. He was kind and good, and she did enjoy both his company and his attention . . . but to flirt with him so as not to seem to be flirting was unfair to the man, really, although he was certainly old enough to look after himself. Still, she should not tease him that way, as sweet to see as his blushing was. She had the impression from Malcolm that Johannes had rather fancied the Gamp witch at one time, but that he had no special lady friend, as such. Malcolm had said that the date he’d set Johannes up with a couple weeks before hadn’t turned into anything, though it hadn’t been a disaster. She would have to tell Malcolm to invite the witch to the bonfire, if he liked. Perhaps in a festive atmosphere, another exposure to her might draw Johannes out a bit more. Such a handsome, intelligent, skilled, and kind wizard should not be alone as he was, Siofre thought. It was sad to imagine him leaving the Tyree estate when his work was finally completed, returning to his empty little Hogsmeade flat. But then he might have more opportunities to meet other witches, living in town rather than there in the hills with two old witches. He seemed shy, but surely there would be some discerning witch who would see him, recognise his value, and then have him win her heart . . . A man who valued family as much as Johannes obviously did deserved to have a family of his own, and not be so alone in the world as he seemed. Siofre thought of the various unmarried witches whom she knew. Surely there would have to be a few who would enjoy meeting this handsome, gentlemanly wizard. If she were younger, she would certainly have appreciated an introduction to him, and she would have made sure that no other witches could compete with her for him. None of her friends or acquaintances seemed likely candidates, though. Siofre wasn’t certain what sort of witch would interest Johannes, although if Professor Gamp had held his attention, he obviously valued intelligence. Of her relatives . . . Lydia was too old, and besides, as much as she might pretend to flirt with him, Siofre could tell that both she and Johannes saw it as an enjoyable diversion, but neither was serious. Yet if Lydia were to become serious about him, and if the two did grow closer, Siofre would have nothing negative to say about it—although she did think that Johannes should marry someone young enough so that he could become a father again, and Lydia was a good thirty years beyond her childbearing time. Johannes would be a wonderful father, and he deserved children. Of Siofre’s relatives, most of the unmarried ones were either too young or too old or not at all suitable—if Siofre couldn’t imagine sharing living quarters with a witch, then she certainly wouldn’t wish her on a wizard as a wife—but there were two who might be acceptable. Although Maisie had her peculiarities and Malcolm had never got along very well with her, she was actually quite bright and had a strong maternal streak. Siofre thought that Malcolm had never quite outgrown his childhood jealousy of Siofre’s marriage to Herbert. He had been very close to his grandmother when he was a young boy, and it had been difficult for him to see her remarry and then have a daughter. In addition to her daughter, Siofre thought that Lachina, one of her more distant Tyree cousins, might be a good match for Johannes. Better, perhaps, than Maisie would be, although she was a fair bit younger, closer to Minerva’s age. But that would mean many years for her and Johannes to have children. A large house filled with Tyree children. Birnbaum children, Siofre amended, as some might be boys. They could even live there at the estate. Lachina was from the island, but she worked at a jeweller’s in Aberdeen; she would have no objection to moving . . . Siofre could see it in her mind’s eye now. Lachina could Apparate each day to her job, if she wished to continue in it, and Johannes could continue working the Tyree gardens, have his own gardens and greenhouse, and she and Johannes could still see each other daily. Perhaps he and Lachina would even stay on in the main house. It was certainly large enough. Although the number of bedrooms varied depending on how the rooms were being used, there were easily a few dozen rooms from which they could choose their bedroom. In fact, they could even have the entire North Tower, if they wished. That was the oldest part of the house, but it had been refurbished completely in the eighteen-fifties when she was a girl, and Murdoch and Lydia had always kept it well, thinking that perhaps either Connor or Phoebe might like it when they were grown and married. The tower had several rooms, and it could easily accommodate a small family. Siofre chuckled to herself. She already had Johannes and Lachina married and surrounded by a brood of children, and they hadn’t even met yet. Still, she would make sure that Lachina came to the Beltane celebration and stayed for young Murdoch’s birthday party. If she and Johannes became acquainted, that was a first step. A witch would have to be completely blind not to see what a very attractive wizard Johannes was, and what a very good man. Siofre walked back up to the house. There was still more than a half hour before Johannes would be there to fetch her—he was probably suffering at the Melliflua manor at that moment—so perhaps she could write her letter to Murdoch about the potion she wanted him to prepare for her to give to Candace Terwilliger. She had found the formula for it the night before, but she had been too tired to stay up and copy it out. It wasn’t a standard potion, by any means, but Siofre had remembered seeing it in one of the Tyree family books, and was glad when she’d been able to find it fairly quickly. With the charms she had cast on the rooms in the Terwilliger home the previous afternoon, this potion would help maintain an atmosphere of peace and tranquillity. That would encourage Cadoc to behave more like his better self—which Gwyneth insisted existed. Siofre hoped, for the sake of both Gwyneth and her unborn child, that the witch was right about that. And if Gwyneth was right, then good for Cadoc, too. It would be good if Cadoc could reach his potential and truly experience and enjoy his life. Siofre entered the house through the conservatory. Lydia was at the piano again. It sounded to Siofre as though she was working on the same piece as she had for the last few days. She walked through the conservatory, pausing a moment to sniff a few of the flowers. She didn’t think that it was only her imagination that even the plants in the conservatory seemed more vibrant and colourful now that Johannes was overseeing their care. She was sure that anything in Johannes’s care would flourish. “Oh! You startled me!” Lydia exclaimed as Siofre entered the music room from the conservatory. “I didn’t hear you come in. I didn’t even know you were back.” She nodded toward the sheet music. “I’ve been rather absorbed.” “I got back about an hour ago,” Siofre replied. “I was out at Morgan and Fiona’s, just walking through one more time before tomorrow. I saw that the house-elves have stocked the kitchen and pantry.” Lydia nodded. “I asked Multry to see to that. She is wonderful. I’m glad you brought her with you. I think Shoolie enjoys sitting in the corner of the kitchen, sipping her tea and entertaining the wee bairns.” “After close to two centuries of service, she deserves to put her feet up and ‘supervise,’” Siofre said. “I have to say, I wasn’t sure when we first moved back whether she and Multry would get along together in the kitchen, but Multry makes her feel valued, not extraneous, so it’s worked out well.” “Yes, it has. So tell me, did you see Phoebe?” “Aye. She received a letter from Sally yesterday. She is excited, naturally, and would like to be here on the twenty-ninth. Since we aren’t certain whether they’ll arrive a day early or a day late, I told her to come stay at the house for a few days. So she’ll be arriving on the twenty-seventh, coming straight from work, and staying through the weekend.” “And Declan?” “I didn’t see him, but Phoebe said he’d probably not be able to come until the twenty-ninth. He has some commitments, apparently. But he’ll join us later, and he’ll definitely be here for the weekend.” “I’ll prepare their usual rooms, then.” “I thought we could put them in the Capercaillie Suite this time instead—with all the weekend guests to accommodate, it might make more sense.” “He always joins her through the door between their rooms, anyway,” Lydia said with a laugh. “Aye, which is why I give them adjoining rooms.” Siofre sighed. “But do have the daybed made up in the dressing room. Just in case he snores.” Lydia laughed heartily at that. “Connor and Liz are waiting until they get word that they’ve arrived, then they and Liam will come up. I thought we could send Sorrel or Gweller with the news.” “We’ll have Multry prepared to fix a nice meal when they get here. We’ll be . . .” Siofre paused to count. “Ten,” Lydia said quickly. “Twelve if Morgan and Fiona join us.” “You say maths gives you rash,” Siofre scoffed. “I never claimed not to be able to add and subtract. I just hate it. It makes me feel all squirmy,” Lydia said. “We’ll still be in the family dining room, then. Multry will just have the table extended a bit.” “I sent out letters this morning, but haven’t heard back yet from anyone except Philomena. She was quite happy for us. She looks forward to seeing them at the bonfire.” “You invited Philomena?” “Yes. Her husband is supposed to be in Madrid or Majorca or someplace that week, so he won’t be here, but Philly is coming. She loves a good party, you know. She gets tired of all the Ministry functions, I’m sure.” “She’s probably numb after all these years,” Siofre said. “You don’t head up a Ministry department that long without going numb—or barking mad!” She cackled. “Speaking of rooms . . . I’ve put Malcolm and Gertrude in one room. I think everyone knows by now that she spends weekends with him. And all last summer, I think.” “Ask her. Or Malcolm. We should go by their wishes. There will be children there, after all. No Hogwarts students, but they still may wish to be more discreet.” “Right. And Minerva will be staying down with Morgan if she can manage to get away for the bonfire, she said in her owl. If she does come, it will be quite late.” “Dumbledore coming, too?” “She didn’t say, and I haven’t heard from him.” “Well, there’s room enough down at the lodge. We can let them sort it out if he shows up,” Siofre said. “Are you going to tell her about the cottage?” Lydia asked. “Nay, this is Murdoch’s weekend. It’s his birthday. Bertrand and Sally’s return will already draw attention from it. Besides, you know that I want to have the work done down there before I give it to her.” “Have you found a plumber yet?” “I’m hiring Brian Mackintosh to do it. It will mean Apparating him back and forth daily until the work is done—or arranging Portkeys for the man—but he’s family, more-or-less, and his pipe-charming is quite good, I understand, even if his Apparition is a bit weak. He did all the new plumbing for the Meath Tyrees, Kathleen’s and Kieran’s families, a few years ago, and they’re happy with it.” “You said he was expensive.” “More expensive to have it done wrong,” Siofre said briskly. “And ’tisn’t worth the worry to hire someone we dinna know, have to watch his every move.” “Brian might give us a family discount—” Lydia began. “The man deserves to be paid his worth. Besides, most of his work is for some manner of family. He’d starve if he gave a discount to everyone he was remotely related to,” Siofre said practically. “I’ll just dip into the estate’s primary account, that’s all. The magister is finding a market for some of our produce. That will help replenish it.” “I could give lessons again,” Lydia offered, “if money is tight. They were asking about me down in Cardiff again. Not to teach at MAMA itself, but to tutor a few of their students. And I could pick up a few Galleons accompanying some of the voice students.” “If you want to do that, that would be fine, hen. I know how much you’ve enjoyed your association with the music academy, but don’t feel you have to take students. It’s hardly as though we’re broke.” “I feel a bit like Shoolie some days . . . just sent to sit in the corner by the fire . . .” “Dinna be ridiculous, Lydia. You are very valuable. You take so much off my mind—I always know that when I leave things in your hands here at the house, I needn’t worry about them at all.” Siofre gestured toward the piano. “What have you been working on lately?” Lydia shrugged. “Oh, just a bit of something that I’d started years ago and then . . . just lost interest in, I suppose. I thought I might pick it up again.” “A composition, then?” “Yes. I played something of mine for Johannes one afternoon last week—it was raining and you were at the Smethwycks’ final arbitration meeting, remember? Anyway, he really enjoyed it. He said it reminded him of Mahler.” Lydia blushed. “So I played him a few other pieces that I’d written years ago, and that reminded me of how much I used to enjoy composing my little bits of things. I found this unfinished piece, and Johannes said he liked it and urged me to work on it again. I think it’s coming along. He’s been very encouraging. This morning, he left me a flower on the piano with a note of support. He said I had a true gift. It was very sweet.” She picked up a little card and fingered its corner. “Play it for me this evening, then? I’ve only heard parts of it as you’ve been composing,” Siofre said, “but it is lovely, what I’ve heard.” “I’d love to! It’s not near finished yet,” Lydia said apologetically, “but I hope to have it done before Bertie and Sally arrive. I hadn’t been sure what to title it, but now I’m thinking, ‘Homecoming.’ It would suit it, I think.” “Aye, it—” Siofre stopped, startled by the sound of Apparition coming from the drive. “Oh, my, Johannes is here, and I’m not ready.” She looked down at herself. “I wanted to freshen up.” “I’m sure that he won’t mind,” Lydia said. She smiled. “He’ll think you look beautiful, I know he will. He’s rather sweet on you, our gardener is.” “Ah, ah, nay. Nay. Nay, he is not.” “He is. More than a little. And from the blush on your own cheeks right now and the twinkle you get in your eye whenever he steps into a room, I’d say you’re a bit sweet on him, too.” “Never—” “Oh, don’t fuss, Siofre dear. I’d be sweet on him, myself, if I didn’t see the way he looks at you.” “Lydia!” “Hush, he’s coming.” Lydia turned back to the piano and picked out a few notes, the primary melody of her new composition. Siofre cast a quick breath-freshening charm. She was smoothing her hair as Johannes stepped into the music room. “Ah, my ladies,” Johannes said, making a short bow. “It is good to find you together, and both looking so lovely. You are playing your new composition, yes?” Lydia paused. “Yes. Thank you for your note this morning. And the flower. They helped me find my inspiration.” Johannes nodded and smiled. “That is good. I am glad.” He turned to Siofre. “You look lovely, may I say. It is a pleasure.” “Thank you.” Johannes was wearing his sapphire blue robes that brought out the colour of his eyes. Siofre wished she had had time to freshen up, though the tartan robes she was wearing were fine, and she hadn’t planned to change. “Shall we go?” Johannes inclined his head. “If you are ready now, yes. We have a reservation—they said they would hold a table for us, anyway.” “Good.” Siofre turned to Lydia. “We will see you later, then.” “Have fun, you two!” Johannes offered Siofre his arm. “Shall we? I will Apparate us.” “Down to the drive, then, or I’ll stay put, and your arm with me—we’d be paying a visit to St. Giles and missing our table and our tea!” Johannes chuckled as they walked toward the door. “I do like my arm attached as it is. And I have never Splinched, and would be very happy if I were never in my life to experience that.” “Aye, I rather fancy your arm right where it is, too,” Siofre replied, a twinkle in her eye. She gave his arm a little squeeze and was pleased to see the wizard’s cheeks blush pink. Lydia was very silly—Johannes sweet on her, indeed! But perhaps he might be, just a little . . .
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Hogwarts Duo
First Year
Does it get any better than ADMM?
Posts: 53
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Post by Hogwarts Duo on Aug 5, 2010 15:16:33 GMT -5
These two just get more and more adorable with each chapter. It's fun to sit back and watch as their little romace begins to deepen and blossom into something more meaningful! You have certainly made me into a Johannes/Siofre shipper. Squeeeeee!!!
Can't wait for the next update!
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Post by MMADfan on Aug 5, 2010 19:43:15 GMT -5
These two just get more and more adorable with each chapter. It's fun to sit back and watch as their little romace begins to deepen and blossom into something more meaningful! You have certainly made me into a Johannes/Siofre shipper. Squeeeeee!!! Can't wait for the next update! Thanks, Ang! I’m enjoying writing the two of them. I think it’s a bit of a different romance than the others I’ve written, or am writing, and that makes it fun, too. I’m not sure when I’ll be updating CSG again, since I’m trying to get some writing done on A Long Vernal Season, and that fic is very “plotty,” as one reviewer put it, so it is taking a lot of my writing energy this week. I’m still trying to put some time into the next chapter of CSG, “The Primrose Room,” though! So hopefully the wait won’t be too long.
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Post by MMADfan on Aug 21, 2010 14:21:19 GMT -5
Author’s note: This instalment contains both chapters 12 & 13. I hope you enjoy them! Chapter Twelve: The Primrose RoomSiofre smiled as she saw where they had arrived. The Clypeum was bustling with Saturday shoppers. Glasgow’s wizarding district was comprised of a nest of three main streets arranged in concentric circles and joined by several narrower alleys, and she and Johannes were in its heart, a circular park right at the Clypeum’s centre. A fountain splashed nearby, and a bronze statue of a bearded, long-haired wizard stood overlooking the park, holding a staff and wearing an old-style kilt wrapped around his waist with one long end drawn up and over his shoulder. The wizard also had a round shield slung over his back. “I thought we would go to the Primrose Room,” Johannes said, gesturing across the green toward the tearoom. “That would be lovely,” Siofre said. “I didn’t know that they took reservations there.” “The witch I spoke with said that they would hold a table for us.” He drew out his watch. “We are a little early. Would you care to walk?” “By the fountain there are benches,” Siofre said. Johannes nodded, and the two walked over to the closest bench and sat down. “Who is the statue?” “Kentigern,” Siofre said. “Kentigern Mackintosh, not St. Kentigern. He designed the Clypeum and cast the first wards. It’s older than Diagon Alley, you know. The oldest guarded magical district in a Muggle city in Britain, in fact.” “London’s an old city, though. It must have always been a centre of wizarding life, just as it has of Muggle life,” Johannes said. “Aye, of course it has been. But Diagon Alley itself and the surrounding side streets were laid down and warded in sixteen sixty-seven, after the Great Fire. It actually created an opportunity for the magical community, that fire did, because until then, there were a number of small, unconnected wizarding neighbourhoods scattered throughout the city. There are still some small wizarding neighbourhoods in London, of course, and a few major institutions that never relocated to Diagon Alley, such as St. Mungo’s, but Diagon Alley gave a boost to the English wizarding community when it created a warded centre for commerce and social life.” “When was the Clypeum created?” “It was established in twelve ninety-eight. There are many more buildings now than there were when Kentigern founded it, but the three major roads are the same as they were then.” She pointed at the statue. “The shield on his back represents the Clypeum itself and the protection it provides.” “There must have been magical communities in England and Scotland before that. And in Wales. Cardiff. Edinburgh. York. London. Other cities.” “Of course, but they weren’t planned, and most of them were very small and gradually grew over the years, through happenstance rather than by plan. The district in York might be influential, but it’s tiny and had clear boundaries and wards only from sometime in the sixteenth century. McTavish Street became the centre of the magical community in Edinburgh very gradually. It grew slowly over the years, until eventually there were no more Muggles for the entire length of the street. Many wizarding districts in Britain, especially the smallest, most scattered ones, were only warded against Muggles in sixteen ninety-two, after the Secrecy Treaty. That treaty encouraged communities to consolidate. It’s quite complicated for a magical family to maintain secrecy when they’re living in a community surrounded by Muggles. Much easier when you have a neighbourhood that’s got protections in place, even if they aren’t completely hidden and segregated from the Muggles, like McTavish Street and the Clypeum are.” “That is true, I am sure,” Johannes said with a nod. He looked around. “This is a very pleasant park. The fountain is nice.” “In the summer, the children play in it.” “You are hiring Brian Mackintosh to do the plumbing at the house?” At Siofre’s nod, Johannes said, “I would like to put the fountain in good working order again. There is some work I can do, but it would be a good thing if he looked at it. When we install the greenhouse, we will need irrigation, sprays, and such. I do Charmed misters, but some of the work should be done by a plumber, unless you have a house-elf who could do it.” “Have you found someone to install the greenhouse?” Johannes hesitated. “You have? Or you cannot find one?” “I thought we could do the work ourselves. With the house-elves and some help from Malcolm, I think we could do it. I don’t know whether Morgan or Bertrand are handy that way—or Sally and Fiona—but between us, I believe we could manage. I have found a source for the glass. Mayfield Charmed Glassworks. They can also obtain the framing for us and do some final charms on the glass after we have completed the work.” Siofre nodded in approval. “I know Caroline Mayfield. She is one of Egeria’s cousins. Competent witch. And I like keeping things in the family when we can. Good work, Johannes.” Johannes smiled. “I also have a new buyer for some of our herbs and produce. Two new buyers, in fact. Kyle Flatiron and Madam Puddifoot are our first customers. With the greenhouse, we will be able to continue to supply them right through the winter. We will maintain their custom.” “Excellent. Well done. And the bere?” “Planted and fertilised. I was conservative in the charms I cast, however. I want to see how it grows, what it needs.” “I will visit it next week. I will also show you some other areas of the grounds that you likely have not seen yet. I will be home most of the week.” “It is time now for our tea, I believe,” Johannes said. He stood and extended his hand to Siofre. “Your sister-in-law told me that you like the Primrose Room.” “I do,” Siofre replied. She took his hand as she stood, then slipped her arm through his. “I prefer it to any other, in fact. In general, I am not fond of going out for dinner, as some folk are, but I do enjoy taking tea in the Primrose Room. Their scones are particularly good. I must warn you, however, that I have quite an appetite today. I do not believe that a single scone will suffice.” “I am glad that I have chosen well, then,” Johannes said with a smile. They entered the busy tearoom. Johannes removed his hat and spied the witch who had promised to hold a table for them. He smiled at her, and she came over. “Mr Birnbaum, I saved you a corner table by the window. Will that suit you?” the wait-witch asked. “That will be lovely, thank you very much, Miss Dunn,” Johannes said, remembering her name. “It is very good of you.” Miss Dunn blushed and smiled. “Not at all.” She led them over to the table and plucked a small card from it on which she had written “Reserved.” Johannes held Siofre’s chair for her, giving her the one with the best view of both the park and the rest of the restaurant. As he sat, the wait-witch handed them each a menu. When the witch had described the soups they were serving that afternoon and had left, Siofre smiled at Johannes. “I see now why you were able to reserve a table,” she said, a teasing sparkle in her eye. Johannes looked at her in puzzlement. “You’re a charmer, and you do not even know it.” Her smile grew as Johannes looked baffled. “She thinks you’re a bonny one, laddie.” Johannes glanced over his shoulder and saw Miss Dunn across the room going over an order. She looked up at that moment and saw him. She smiled, blushed, and lowered her eyes before looking up at him again. Johannes turned back to Siofre. “I was only polite,” he said, his cheeks pink. “I did not attempt to charm her for the table.” Siofre’s grinned. “You do not need to.” It was quite sweet, she thought, that Johannes had no idea how very good-looking and charming he was. She was sure that he hadn’t flirted with the witch, but just been himself. Her grandson Malcolm, now, he wasn’t above a bit of flirting to get a good table in a restaurant, she was sure. Malcolm had been that way from the time he could walk, she thought. A different witch came and took their orders, and Johannes also ordered sandwiches. “The scones smell very good, but I, too, have an appetite this afternoon,” Johannes said. “They do lovely little cakes here, too,” Siofre said. “They have some that are filled with wonderful cream. They are light seeming, but rich. We can have those after.” “As you recommend!” Johannes agreed with a nod. “You had a very busy morning?” “Aye, and the afternoon was, as well. To Tiree first, then to Ireland, then home this afternoon.” “You saw Phoebe?” Siofre nodded. “We had lunch together. She will be coming to stay at the house a day or two before Bertrand and Sally said they might arrive. Her . . . friend, Declan Tyree, will be arriving a few days later, and they will both be staying for the weekend, as well. She is looking forward to seeing them, naturally.” “Declan Tyree?” Johannes asked curiously. “Aye, he is a kinsman, too. Tyrees often marry Tyrees or other kin. Not close kin, of course.” Siofre sighed. “I do wish those two particular Tyrees would either marry or move on and find others.” “They have been close friends for long?” “Several years,” Siofre said with a nod. “And they were close in school, too, but then later, after Hogwarts, they each were with others. Phoebe had been engaged to marry Bobby Fitzgerald, but he was killed in . . . I think it was thirty-five, quite a long time ago, now. Bobby was an Auror, and he was killed in the line of duty. She didn’t see anyone seriously after that for a long time. But then she ran into Declan at Murdoch’s funeral, and that rekindled their romance.” “You do not approve?” Siofre was quiet for a moment. “I did not at first. Declan was engaged at the time—or at least the witch he was with believed they were going to marry. She was rather stunned when he broke off their relationship so suddenly two days after we buried Murdoch. So I thought that Declan did not behave as well as he should have, although it was preferable to drawing it out, I suppose. And I was uncertain whether he would not also treat Phoebe similarly if something more appealing came along. It does not appear so, however.” “She is happy now?” “Aye, it seems so—and I do not criticise to her. Understand that. I worry. I simply . . . worry.” “I understand. What does Lydia think?” “She wants the two to marry and brings it up every time she see them, either of them. She doesn’t fuss about it. She simply becomes . . . enthusiastic.” Johannes chuckled. “I can see this. She has great enthusiasms.” Siofre smiled. “Aye. And Phoebe and Declan treat it with good humour.” Their tea arrived, rapidly followed by their plates of various little sandwiches. “It was good of you to leave Lydia the flower and the note this morning. I believe the note meant a lot to her.” Johannes shook his head. “Not at all. That is, I am glad that she liked it. Yesterday your story of her early years saddened me.” “That was many years ago. She has had a happy life, Johannes.” “Ja, I know that. But it touched me. She has brought me much pleasure with her music. I wished to express appreciation and to encourage her.” “It did encourage her.” She took a sip of her tea. “These sandwiches were what I needed, but your company has also been very refreshing.” Johannes went slightly pink. “Thank you.” “Are you returning to Hogsmeade this evening?” Johannes nodded. “I had thought I would. After seeing you home, of course.” “Morgan and his family are moving in tomorrow, and we will be having a big family dinner in the afternoon, all of us together. It would be nice if you were there, too.” “Ah, well, it is a family dinner. I would not wish to intrude upon such an occasion.” Siofre shook her head. “I am inviting you because it would not be an intrusion. Of course, if you prefer not to join us, I dinna wish to press you.” “If you do not think that Morgan and Fiona would prefer it to be family only—” “They will not think of it that way. And Lydia was saying the other day how much we have become accustomed to your company.” Johannes smiled. “I am honoured to be included in a family occasion.” “I should warn you before you commit to it that the four babies will also be eating with us. They are not old enough to be said to ‘dine,’” Siofre said with a smile, “but they do eat. Messily. And David likes to throw his food at Aiden, but he always misses. So it may not be such an honour.” “It is. And I like babies. I will come to dinner. Will you need help with the removal?” Siofre shook her head. “The house-elves have that all in hand. Fiona is coordinating it, and the elves are carrying out most of it. It should go smoothly.” “And the babies while the parents are busy?” “Shoolie will watch them in the nursery at the main house. She is good with the bairns.” “There is a nursery in the main house?” Johannes asked curiously. “Aye, of course there is. In the west tower. It has not seen much use in recent years, but now that the quads are so nearby, it will be used more, I am sure. I will show it to you. There’s also a room for lessons. I dinna know what plans Morgan and Fiona have for the bairns’ education, but p’raps they’d like to use the schoolroom in the main house, at least at times.” “Sheffy! Sheffy!” A plump witch waved rather enthusiastically from across the room. Siofre looked up. “Mrs Campbell, née Flint,” she whispered to Johannes. She focussed on Mrs Campbell and raised her hand slightly. She nodded, and a smile flitted across her face. “We were in school together,” she added sotto voce. Mrs Campbell approached their table. “Oh, Sheffy! How very good to see you out! Why, I was just saying to Roberta the other day, ‘Roberta,’ I said, ‘Roberta, we just never see our dear little Sheffy anymore. Hiding away up there in those hills of hers,’ I said, ‘or popping around the country, earning a bit of silver, but never popping ’round to see us anymore,’ and here you are!” “It is very nice to see you again, too, Florrie,” Siofre said as the other witch took her hand in both of hers. “Florrie, I’d like to introduce Professor Johannes Birnbaum. Professor Birnbaum, this is Mrs Florence Campbell.” Johannes rose in his seat and took Florrie’s offered hand, bending over it. “Mrs Campbell. Honoured to meet you.” “Pleased to meet you, too, Professor,” Florrie said, smiling and squeezing his fingers. Johannes thought the number of rings she wore created a danger to anyone she shook hands with. “You must be Siofre’s new garden wizard!” She looked down at Siofre. “I’d thought he was some ancient Herbology teacher. Lydia didn’t say he was so—” “We are fortunate to have Professor Birnbaum using his talents on our estate,” Siofre said briskly. “He is making great strides with it.” “Quite different from Drew’s grandmother,” Florrie replied. She looked back at Johannes. “Have you known my husband’s grandmother, Professor? Professor Zoe Campbell? She was our Herbology teacher.” “I did not have the pleasure,” Johannes said. “She wouldn’t have taught you, anyway,” Florrie said. “She retired back in the eighties, I think.” She looked him up and down. “You likely weren’t even a twinkle in your daddy’s eye then.” “I did not attend Hogwarts, ma’am. I grew up in Germany.” “Really?” Florrie seemed astonished. “But Lydia said that you had been Head of Ravenclaw—there was something in the papers about that, but I don’t remember what.” “I was Sorted into Ravenclaw after I began teaching at Hogwarts,” Johannes said. “What brings you here, Florrie?” Siofre asked. “I’m meeting Philomena here. She’s another one who’s never out—all that silly Ministry business of hers!” “Philomena is Head of the Department for International Magical Cooperation,” Siofre said sharply. “Hardly silly business.” “But she could make more time for her cousin,” Florrie said. “I am sure she does what she can,” Siofre said. “There she is now,” Florrie said, looking over at the door as the cheerful bells rang and Philomena Yaxley came in. Florrie looked at Siofre. “Would you like us to join you?” “Ah, we are almost finished with our tea. And we have some business yet to discuss. Tyree estate business,” Siofre said, plainly discouraging Florrie. “And as you have so little time with your cousin, I am sure you want to have her to yourself whilst you may.” Philomena came over. “Siofre! Good to see you—and Professor Birnbaum. No, no, don’t stand. How are you enjoying your new business venture, Professor?” “It is most satisfying,” Johannes said. “There are new challenges. It is different from teaching at Hogwarts.” “I think our table is ready, Florrie,” Philomena said. As Florrie turned to look toward the table the wait-witch had prepared for them, Philomena leaned close to Siofre and said, “See you soon, Siofre.” She squeezed her shoulder and winked. The two witches took their leave of Siofre and Johannes, Johannes rising respectfully. When he had sat back down and rearranged his napkin on his lap, Siofre asked, “Would you be having a taste for some of their cream cakes now?” “As you recommend them so highly, I have left space for them,” Johannes said. Siofre smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Good to leave room for the sweet today.” Johannes gained the attention of their wait-witch, and he requested some cream cakes and a fresh pot of Darjeeling for them both. “Do people often call you ‘Sheffy’?” Johannes asked. “I haven’t heard Lydia call you that.” “Nay. They do not. Florrie has insisted on that . . . that nickname since we met when she was a silly first-year, and she persists in using it more than one hundred years on. I used to try to correct her, but then I realised she found it amusing to hear my protests, so I ceased providing her with amusement. She does occasionally introduce me that way, and I try a gentle correction at that time, but I do not press the point.” Johannes smiled up at the wait-witch when she set down their teapot, fresh cups, and their plate of cream cakes. “Thank you.” The wait-witch bobbed a quick curtsy. “Very welcome, sir. Would sir or ma’am like anything else?” Johannes looked at Siofre, and after the slight movement of her head, he replied, “No, thank you very much.” Siofre reached for the pot and poured their tea into their fresh teacups. “Thank you— Sheffy,” Johannes said with a teasing smile. Siofre laughed. “From you, with your accent, it sounds rather nice.” “I do believe I prefer your full name, however,” Johannes said, accepting the milk pitcher. “Although until I saw the contract with your name spelled out, I thought it was ‘S-h-e-f-f-r-a-h,’ I admit. I had never heard the name before.” “It is a variation of my mother’s sister’s name, which was ‘Siofra.’” “I hear no difference,” Johannes said. “Her name ended with an ‘a.’” “Ah. I see. Does it have meaning?” “‘Changeling.’ It is a common name in my mother’s family.” “Very interesting. Siofre . . .” He smiled softly. “The first year that I taught at Hogwarts, I had a Connolly in my fifth-year class. Her name was ‘Siobhan.’ You may imagine the giggles from the students when I read the class roll and pronounced her name ‘See-oh-bahn.’ I likewise mispronounced ‘Sean.’ Called the boy, ‘Seen.’ ‘Aoibheann’ completely baffled me. The spelling of these names is even more peculiar than most English orthography, which I confess often makes little sense to me.” “Mm. I imagine so. Lydia says that reading German and Italian is easy in part because a word is always pronounced just as it’s spelt.” “She is correct. I have only a little Italian, but that is my experience of it. Minerva assisted me in recognising the Scottish and Irish names and how the different combinations of letters give different sounds, such as the ‘s-e’ and ‘s-i’ do. So now when I see them, I can usually read them.” “So no more embarrassing titters when you call out ‘Seen,’ ‘See-oh-bahn,’ or ‘Sin-need,’” Siofre teased. “No, although I do say that my pronunciation is not always correct. I have worked more on it since teaching, however.” “I thought your English was remarkably good,” Sioffre said, “with a most charming accent, but well-pronounced.” “Thank you. You flatter me,” Johannes said with a slight blush. “Not at all. I’ve heard English who murder their own mother tongue, so it is pleasant to listen to you speak. How did you learn it?” “My Charms master was English, and I lived with him for almost two years, speaking only English. He lived in Oxford. Deceased now, since three years. But I studied it to read when I was a child. English, Latin, and Greek, although only a little Greek. Then I have French cousins, and I learned that to speak, as well.” “Very good,” Siofre said approvingly. “I speak Scottish Gaelic and Irish, and I can make my way a bit in Welsh, and, of course, I speak English.” “I confess that sometimes when I am in Edinburgh, I hear people speaking, and I think it is English, but I cannot understand a word of it,” Johannes said. “It is a very unusual dialect.” Siofre smiled. “Aye, each area has a different dialect. Even in England, they do, as you have noticed, I’m sure.” “It was a challenge for me when I first started teaching,” Johannes said. “Some children seem to drop half the letters in more than half their words. But my ear developed, I think, and they learned to speak clearer if they wanted me to understand them.” “Did they laugh then, too?” “Sometimes, but not often. And I would laugh, too. We laugh together. I liked the students . . . I did enjoy teaching, very much. I could see the children change and grow, make new discoveries and realisations. It was very satisfying in its way.” “You miss it, then?” “Only a little. I would not mind taking an apprentice one day, when I have the . . . the capacity.” “Or if you have your own children, teaching them for the years before you send them to school.” Johannes nodded. “Perhaps.” “Connor and Elisabeth are sending Liam to Muggle school for the first five years. I will be interested to see whether that lasts.” “How old is Liam?” “Almost six. He’s been in kindergarten this year. I daresay his teacher thinks he comes from a peculiar family.” “His grandparents are Muggles, though,” Johannes said. “Aye, and that will make it easier for him to blend in, they think. He knows enough not to talk about certain things, but you know children. They can be forgetful—and quite literal. Someday, he will say something that he shouldn’t, I am sure. Or have a magical accident. That could take some explaining.” “That is true,” Johannes said. “You were schooled at home, I presume.” Siofre nodded. “Half the time at home at the estate and half the time on Tiree Beag with the cousins. Most of them stayed on the island for all their schooling, but I went to Hogwarts as both of my parents had, even my father, though he attended back in the nineties, when it was very rare to see any Tyree go to Hogwarts to school.” “The nineties . . . the seventeen-nineties?” Johannes asked rhetorically, doing the math. Siofre chuckled. “Aye. It’s no spring chicken you’re looking at now, laddie, but my dad, he was older than my mother by a good many years—indeed, by more than four decades. He worked for the Irish wizarding patrol guard, you see, and was living in County Meath with the other Tyree cousins—he’d had a few problems with a few of the English pureblood families, so he couldn’t get a job with the British Ministry law enforcement—and he met my mother when he was on duty. He was with a few others who had been sent to negotiate with some clauricorns who were living too close to a Muggle village and drawing attention to themselves. My mother was just eighteen, a country lass. My father caught sight of her and was struck by her beauty. He fell in love with her at first sight. She thought him a fine, strong wizard, gallant and well-spoken, she said, and so my father wasted no time. They married a year later, they returned here to live, and then the next year, I was born.” “It sounds very romantic.” “His mates teased him that the clauricorns had enchanted him to fall in love so to distract him from his work. But aye, ’twas romantic enough, and my mother was beautiful. I will show you her portrait in the gallery when we return to the house—if you are staying for dinner?” “I hadn’t thought I would . . . I have things in my flat in Hogsmeade, a few books, that I need to fetch. I was going to see you home and return to the flat for the night.” “We could fetch them together, then,” Siofre said. “An you want to come back to the house today. Otherwise, we will see you tomorrow afternoon?” “Ah . . . we could fetch them. It’s just a few things. And you can see that my flat is quite cosy and not at all barren and empty, as you say—though it is not a castle. Simply a humble apartment.” “Just between us, sometimes at the end of a long day, I could wish for a humble apartment,” Siofre said. “The castle brings many responsibilities, and not simply the care and upkeep of the house and grounds. But they are good, too, these responsibilities. Just occasionally . . . wearying. Keeping this between us.” “Of course.” “I would not want Lydia to feel a burden—she offered to go back to teaching piano again, and accompanying voice students. She hated accompanying voice students. An she took a few private piano students because she wanted to, because she enjoyed it, that would be fine, but I don’t want her to think she has to . . . to chip in, you know?” “Indeed. I understand.” “And it’s not as though I do find it a burden, not usually, and I certainly don’t find Lydia one, but it is a lot to think about. I worry, too, about my family on Tiree, and about my responsibilities toward them, and I worry about my clients, even ones from years ago.” “You must miss your husband,” Johannes said. “Someone to share it with.” Siofre nodded and shrugged. “Herbert was a sweet wizard, a very dear man, and clever, too. Wrote histories of oracles, of discoveries, of great teachers . . . didn’t write about wars, though. Never liked to write about . . . violent conflicts. Intellectual heroes, though, heroes of peace and wisdom, they interested him. He was a good man. And an emotional support to me, that too.” “But not . . . practical?” Johannes asked tentatively. Siofre smiled wryly. “You are a sharp one, Magister. Aye, not very practical. But I didn’t marry him to marry a practical man.” “Many have said I am not a practical man. Professor Dumbledore has said it.” Siofre snorted a laugh. “That man . . . he is a great wizard, and don’t mistake me, I respect him, but he isn’t unfailingly correct. You’re practical enough. You got us customers for our produce, after all. And you saw the potential to grow bere again.” Johannes blushed. He would not tell her how difficult he found that side of his work— selling was quite a different thing from growing plants and casting charms, or from writing and research. He knew its necessity, after all, and at least people seemed to be willing to listen to him—he also liked people, and he knew that he had good potions ingredients, or good produce, to offer them. “I hope that the bere is good,” Johannes said. “I spoke with Young Jacob this morning. He will look at the field when he is here for Beltane.” “You know, Siofre, if you wish to talk . . . to have someone to talk to, I am not family, but I would listen and be discreet, as you wish,” Johannes said. “I have found you to be a good listener,” Siofre replied. “I enjoy your company. In fact, this has been a lovely afternoon. Thank you.” “I have enjoyed it. You were right about the cream cakes. Lecker.” “Pardon?” “Very delicious. Tasty,” he said with a nod. “Aye, they are gusty,” Siofre said with a laugh. “Now to Hogsmeade and your humble abode?” she asked as the wait-witch brought Johannes the bill. “Aye,” Johannes echoed. “To Hogsmeade.” ~*~*~*~*~ Chapter Thirteen: A Family ManSiofre released Johannes’s arm and looked around her. They were in a somewhat overgrown back garden of a small house. Ivy climbed the brick walls surrounding the courtyard, and a large oak tree from a neighbouring garden cast a long late afternoon shadow over the garden. “My flat has its own entrance in the back, you see,” Johannes said. “Quite private and quiet.” He removed a key from his pocket, fitted it to the door, and unlocked it. He gestured for Siofre to enter first. “You lock your door,” Siofre observed as she stepped into his kitchen. “It is common knowledge that I do not spend much time here,” Johannes said. “I believe it prudent to lock it when I am not at home. Other than the landlord’s Anti-Apparition wards, however, there are no wards.” “Another reason to be prudent and lock the door,” Siofre said. “This, as you see, is my little kitchen—now well-provisioned by Multry. Through here, I have a sitting room,” he said, leading the way into the sitting room, “and that door leads to my bedroom. The, um, facilities are also through there. Bath and so forth.” Siofre nodded. There were a great many bookcases in the little sitting room, and each shelf had large gaps. Johannes had brought most of his books to his rooms at the Tyree estate, it seemed—which was quite sensible, Siofre thought, since he spent most of his time there. The sofa was an older one and somewhat worn, but it appeared comfortable, and Johannes had put a few colourful cushions on it. There were two matching armchairs, several lamps, and a low coffee table, as well; a cherry roll-top desk stood against one wall. “If you would like to have a seat,” Johannes said, “I will fetch my few things before we may leave.” Siofre glanced curiously through the door to the bedroom, but saw only a made bed, its simple head and footboards also of cherry, a cherry night-stand with a lamp, and a couple more bookcases. Rather than sit, Siofre glanced through the books that remained on the bookshelves. Many were in German, but more were in English, and they were on a wide array of subjects. Johannes had a fair amount of literature, too, which did not surprise Siofre, although she had never seen him reading any books other than ones related to his profession in some way. She wandered over to the roll-top desk, which was closed. She didn’t open it, but she did reach up and pick up a hinged photograph frame that was on top of the desk. On one side, there was an unmoving black and white Muggle photograph of a much younger-looking Johannes with a pretty, smiling witch, and a tiny sleeping baby—presumably his wife and daughter. He was standing close behind his wife, looking down at the baby, and smiling. On the other side, there was a black and white wizarding portrait photograph of a slightly older witch and wizard, perhaps his parents—Johannes resembled the wizard fairly well, although Siofre thought Johannes better looking, perhaps because he had inherited his mother’s open smile and bright eyes. Johannes came back out of the bedroom carrying a satchel and another cloth bag. He paused when he saw that Siofre had the photographs in her hands. “Your family?” Siofre asked. “Ja. My wife, Beate, and my daughter, Clara, and that is my father, Matthias Karl, and my mother, Rosa,” Johannes said, taking the photographs and pointing to them. “After they died, one of my neighbours, a Muggle friend, gave me the picture of Beate and Clara, and a cousin had this one of my parents, and she sent it to me. The murderers did not stop at killing my family, burning my fields, and reducing my greenhouse to sand. They defaced or destroyed almost all pictures and books . . . the house they left standing, and its furniture, but my life, they erased. They took my life without killing me,” Johannes said softly. “It was after that, I was hiding by a friend in Freiburg, and Professor Dumbledore came for me. He brought me to England, to Yorkshire, and he let me live in his house there. Later, he helped me to get the job at Hogwarts. I barely knew him before then.” Siofre patted his arm. “That was a tragedy. I am glad that you had friends to help you, and that Dumbledore brought you here and gave you a chance for a new life.” Johannes nodded, still looking at the photographs. “Would you like to see another photograph of Clara?” “Aye, she was a beautiful bairn,” Siofre said softly. Johannes replaced the framed photographs on top of the desk, then he reached into an inner pocket of his outer-robe and pulled out a small hard leather case. It opened with a click. “I carried this with me,” Johannes said softly. “I had it with me that day, when I should have been there with my family. It was taken only a week before . . .” Siofre looked at the picture of the smiling, laughing baby, and she swallowed past the lump she felt rise in her throat. How anyone could murder a baby was completely beyond her comprehension. “And that is a little lock of her hair,” Johannes said, pointing to the side opposite the photograph. There was a small, light tuft of hair closed behind glass. He handed the picture to her, almost thrusting it at her. “Excuse me . . . pardon me.” He turned quickly and went back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Siofre could hear the bathroom door open and close. She sighed and allowed a few tears to well up in her eyes before she wiped them away with the back of her hand. With one finger, she gently traced the curve of the child’s face, then she closed the photograph case with a snap. A few minutes later, Johannes reemerged from the bedroom, and Siofre was sitting on the sofa with a book open in her lap. “I apologise—” Johannes began. “Nay, do not apologise,” Siofre replied, setting the book aside and standing. “I do not look at the picture. That little one. I carry it still, but . . . It has been so many years. It should not bother me.” “Bah! If anyone tells you that, do not believe them. Your feelings change over time, your circumstances change, your life moves on, but that was your daughter. You cannot lose every drop of grief in you, not if you live to be two hundred.” She handed him the closed photograph case and took his hand as she did. “Thank you for showing me.” She squeezed his hand briefly, then let go. Johannes nodded briefly and smiled slightly. “It was good to share it with you. You are easy for me to speak to.” “I’m glad you’re returning to the house with me,” Siofre said as he bent to retrieve his bags. “Your flat is cosy, certainly, but our house . . . it’s as Lydia says: it feels emptier when you leave.” “It will be good for you to have Bertrand and Sally returning, then, even if it is just for a visit. And to have your grandson and his family living so close. You will feel more life with them all there with you.” Siofre nodded. “But it will not make your company any less welcome, Johannes.” “Thank you. I fear sometimes I become too comfortable there, but also that I intrude upon the privacy that I know you enjoy.” “Nonsense! You’re right that I enjoy my privacy, that I am happy up there in my hills, as Florrie put it this afternoon, but you are very welcome there with us—besides, the house is large enough to accommodate far more people with ease. We each still have our privacy—it is you I worry about, and I would feel guilty about persuading you to return for the rest of the weekend if it weren’t for the fact that I’m too pleased about it.” “You worry about me? And why feel guilty?” Johannes asked as he opened the outer door for Siofre. “Well, as my oldest grandson pointed out to me, living at the Tyree castle may be comfortable for you, but it does nothing for your social life to live up in the hills with two old widows. He dared almost scold me for—how did he put it?—for cramping your style.” Johannes chuckled as he turned his key in the lock. “Hardly. Malcolm is intent on seeing that I have sufficient amusement in my life. He also thinks that I would be happier if I were . . . um, seeing a lady. Dating. It sounds like very much work when he speaks of it, and hardly amusing at all. Not that I am averse to that. To dating. If it were a witch with whom I enjoy spending time. But I am not in any hurry, nor am I unhappy living in your hills with you and Lydia. Malcolm’s ‘style’ is not always the same as mine. So do not worry or feel guilt.” “You know, Johannes, you are welcome to have guests, to have friends visit. It is your home, too, and I know you would not invite someone to visit who would be unacceptable to any of us. And if you care to have a guest stay, speak with Multry. She can make whatever arrangements you may require.” “Thank you. That is most generous.” “In fact, is there anyone you would like to invite to Beltane and to Murdoch’s party?” Siofre asked. “I’m sure we could find room, or even set up a bed in your sitting room.” “I . . . I had not considered it. I was uncertain whether I was included, you see. It is over a weekend.” “Ach! Shame on us both, then! I for not clearly inviting you, and you for doubting that we would include you! Of course, you needn’t stay for it if you don’t wish to, but naturally you are invited. It can get a wee bit raucous, and the bonfire goes very late, but I would . . . it would be a disappointment to me if you were not there. I was looking forward to it, you see,” she said, linking her arm through his in anticipation their Apparition, “looking forward to having your company there.” “In that instance, I could not fail to attend,” Johannes said with a smile and raising his free hand to pat her arm. “I will be very pleased to stay for the bonfire and the weekend. And now, shall I Apparate us?” “Aye. You may,” Siofre said. “Bring us home, Honnie.” ~*~*~*~*~ “So, you came back together,” Lydia said, sitting down in her favourite chair in the sitting room. “As you could easily see, as the magister greeted you before going up to his rooms.” “And together, by Side-Along,” Lydia teased. “Mm. Sensible.” Siofre picked up the Dublin edition of the Daily Prophet, which she hadn’t found time to read earlier in the day. “But who gave whom the Side-Along, I wonder,” Lydia continued. “Could it be that our Siofre actually allowed a gentleman friend to Apparate her home?” Siofre sighed and shook her head. “’Twas practical. I was a wee bit tired after Apparating about this morning, and I was also trying to be polite, Lydia. The man’s not familiar with Tyree ways, with my ways. It would have been impolite to insist on Apparating myself—or, worse, to insist on Apparating him as though he were a child incapable of bringing himself home.” Lydia laughed. “And isn’t that what you said that time when Russ Wainwright offered you a Side-Along to McTavish Street from the Clypeum? I don’t think I’d ever seen any man turn as deep red as he did when you told him that you were neither a child nor an ancient witch in your dotage that you were incapable of Apparating a short distance to a place you’d been thousands of times, and he should remove his hands from your person.” She laughed even harder at the memory. “That man was annoying, in any case. Even if I were exhausted, I’d rather accept a Side-Along from almost anyone but him. I think he’s had something unnatural done to his teeth. His smile is most obnoxious.” Lydia laughed. “That cannot be said of Johannes, certainly.” “Nay, not at all.” Siofre turned to the pages on international news. “Did you have a good afternoon?” Lydia asked. “Aye, quite nice.” Lydia waited. “Is that all you have to say about it? You’re gone for hours, and you can only say ‘quite nice’?” “Well, it was quite nice.” Siofre set her newspaper down, resigned to having to say more than two words about her afternoon. “Florrie Campbell saw us, silly thing, and chattered on about nothing, as usual. She came within a hair of insulting the magister,” Siofre said. “We avoided that, however—and Johannes was quite gentlemanly with her, as you might expect—and then Philomena arrived, took her away, saving us. Philly told me she’s looking forward to the Beltane celebration.” “Good. And you and Johannes?” “We had a very nice afternoon, as I said. We were a wee bit early, so we sat in the park a while, then we had tea at the Primrose Room, sandwiches and cakes. It was delicious, as always. Johannes said it was licker.” “He said what?” Lydia asked, blinking. “I thought that’s what he said,” Siofre replied, puzzled. “He said it was tasty.” “Ah! Lecker! Yes.” Lydia nodded, chuckling. “That’s good that you both enjoyed the food, but what about the two of you?” Lydia persisted. “He is excellent company, as you know,” Siofre said. “We enjoyed it. I really don’t know what you want me to say, Lydia. After we had tea, we stopped by his flat in Hogsmeade so he could fetch a few things. ’Tis a cute wee apartment he has there. I did invite him to the bonfire—he didn’t realise that we expected him for it, and he thought he needed an invitation—and you know that he’s staying on for dinner tomorrow with Morgan, Fiona, and the bairns.” “I’m glad you persuaded him to come back with you,” Lydia said. “And I should have given him a written invitation, I suppose, just as I did for everyone else, but with him living here, it simply didn’t occur to me.” “That’s what I told him, that we simply presumed that he would attend. He is a member of the household, after all.” “Practically a member of the family,” Lydia added with a nod. “Well, I didn’t adopt the lad, Lydia,” Siofre said drily, “but I did tell him that he could never intrude upon any family occasions and he’s always welcome.” “’Twasn’t adoption I was thinking of,” Lydia said with a smile. “He’s a bonny one, you admit it yourself. Kind, handsome, intelligent, and you obviously are fond of him—” “I’m quite fond of a good many people, even an you fail to notice it and I don’t show it, but that does not mean that I’m interested in any of them in the way you are implying—and I shan’t pretend I don’t know what you’re implying, as you were plain enough in your insinuations earlier this afternoon, but I do wish you wouldn’t speak like that again. In fact, I’m hoping that Lachina will come and spend some extra time here next week. She’d be company for Phoebe, and I think she might enjoy Professor Birnbaum’s company. They have many interests in common.” “Lachina? Dervla and Lachlann’s daughter? Lachina? You . . . I . . . Lachina . . . Lachina? I am at a loss for words, Siofre.” Lydia threw her hands into the air. “Utterly and completely at a loss for words.” “Lachina is a lovely lass!” “Yes, yes, yes, of course she is, but really . . . Lachina, Siofre?” “I am not setting them up. I would not presume, unlike Malcolm. I simply think that they might enjoy each other’s company. If they do enjoy each other, and well enough, then if nature takes its course, we may be able to welcome the magister to the family in truth. If not,” Siofre said with a shrug, “then not.” “Oh, Siofre,” Lydia said with a sigh. “You have no idea, do you?” “Ach, I am not so dim, hen, not to see that the magister has developed some affection for me—for both of us, Lydia—and I canna deny that my growing affection for him has surprised me, but I’m no fool, either. You know that Johannes lost his family in Germany. It would be good for him to find a nice witch and have a new family in his new life here in Scotland. And if I happen selfishly to hope that it’s a Tyree witch whom he finds to have that family with, that would certainly not be to his detriment.” Lydia shook her head and rolled her eyes dramatically. “You don’t know what you’re doing, sister dear, if you can blithely say that you’d like him with some Tyree witch, and yet be introducing him to Lachina—” “If not Lachina, then another,” Siofre said with a shrug. “There should be a number of nice, single Tyree witches at either the bonfire or Murdoch’s party.” “Lachina reminds me of you when you were her age, Siofre darling. Even looks a lot like you did, apart from her hair being a tad darker red than yours was.” “Aye, darker than mine was, Lydia. It hasn’t been that shade in a good ten years, at least. And you know why I finally accepted Herbert.” “I know.” “It gave me my last chance for another bairn, I believed, and just a few years later, I was proven right. Maisie never had a younger brother or sister. The magister deserves all that life has to offer, and all that marriage can offer, including children. Even if I were at all interested in him that way—and I am not saying I am—that wouldn’t be possible for me and not fair to him.” “There are Tyree traditions that could accommodate that, if it were important to you both. You know that I tried to encourage Murdoch that we should take that option when I was having such trouble carrying my own child.” “And Murdoch declined and you eventually had Bertrand,” Siofre said. “And Bertie was a great blessing, but Murdoch and I had both agreed that if we didn’t have a child by our tenth anniversary, that would be our gift to each other. We both wanted a child that much.” “I remember now . . . you even had two Tyree island witches you were considering asking,” Siofre said reflectively. “But that wouldn’t apply for us—for me, I mean. It isn’t as though I have any delusion that I could enter into a relationship with a wizard— any wizard—and offer him the possibility of a family.” “First, from what I know of the Tyree tradition, there is no requirement that the wife be within childbearing years to make the request for the . . . the ritual, only that the couple is incapable of having a child with each other—except, obviously, when the problem is on the husband’s side and not the wife’s, then the witch must be fertile in order to perform the rituals with another wizard. But otherwise, the wife picks her substitute for her husband, and the child will be theirs as soon as it draws its first breath. From what I’ve learned from families on the island, this has worked very well for many couples for hundreds of years. If it were important to you and to him, you would both find a way, I’m sure.” Siofre took in a deep breath and let it out. “I’m not interested in having another baby at my age, through the substitute rituals or otherwise, nor am I interested in becoming involved with a wizard who would.” She shook her head. “There’s no point in discussing this. It’s completely irrelevant.” “I don’t think it is, Siofre. The witch you’re setting him up with—all right, all right introducing him to—she’s you. Well, not you, but as close as you could come. You’re setting our Johannes up with a witch who is as like to you as any I know. If that doesn’t say something, I don’t know what does—” “It says nothing, ergo, there is nothing left to be said. Now, what time did you ask Multry to serve supper this evening?” Lydia sighed, but acquiesced. For the moment. Author’s note: If you enjoy keeping track of the various RaMverse characters, you may have noticed Philomena Flint Yaxley in the last chapter, and whom Siofre mentions in this one. She is the same Philomena Yaxley who met Minerva in her sodden-Tabby persona in Resolving a Misunderstanding, whom Malcolm describes as “the old harridan” who issued him the permit to import Erumpent horn, and who was with Scrimgeour during the Death Eater attack on the Ministry in Death’s Dominion. Florrie Flint Campbell is Andrew Campbell’s grandmother—Andrew was one of the boys who took the Hogwarts Express with Suzie in “The Sorting of Suzie Sefton.” Florrie’s husband’s grandmother, Professor Campbell, is mentioned by Albus in Resolving a Misunderstanding. She grew up in Nova Scotia and didn’t really approve of the Hogwarts House system, so always paired students from different Houses in her Herbology classes—that was how Albus met Dervilia, a Hufflepuff in his Herbology class. That’s probably enough trivia for one author’s note! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I appreciate all your reviews!
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Hogwarts Duo
First Year
Does it get any better than ADMM?
Posts: 53
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Post by Hogwarts Duo on Aug 24, 2010 19:11:54 GMT -5
Two updates in one ... we are certainly lucky ducks here, though I'd already read the Primrose room on TPP.
Still, it's a fantastic read since there's so much Johannes and Siofre together in it. tee hee. Yep, I've developed quite the soft spot for these two. They don't feel like original characters. The way you write them, it's like they're part of the HP universe but without having all the negative energy JKR decided to put on her characters towards the end of the series. **grumbles and walks away**
Okay, I'm back:
I loved the second post, too. It was very touching to see Johannes sharing his precious moments with Siofre and to see her reaction to them. I love that Lydia is still trying to open Siofre's eyes to the possibility that Johannes is perfect for her and that they'd be good together. I hope she works that out for herself before she tries to do any matchmaking. eeeek
Thanks for posting! the GLM
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Post by MMADfan on Aug 25, 2010 21:49:58 GMT -5
Hey there, Ang! I’m glad that you are enjoying the story and find Johannes & Siofre compelling characters. We’ll see how well the introductions go and how well Siofre’s attempts to “do the right thing” for Johannes go, too. They really are becoming closer, and that’s something that can’t be stopped.
I’m zonked, or I’m sure I’d blather on some more! Thanks for reviewing here! :-)
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Post by MMADfan on Sept 2, 2010 10:04:08 GMT -5
Chapter Fourteen: Pleasant InconvenienceJohannes was up before dawn. He dressed quickly and went down to the kitchen, thinking to make himself a cup of coffee before going out to his garden, but Multry caught him looking through the cupboards for the coffee, and she scolded him. Johannes apologised, explaining that he hadn’t wanted to disturb anyone so early in the morning. Multry tutted at that explanation, but allowed Johannes to have a seat in the kitchen and watch as she prepared his coffee. She also insisted he have breakfast, and made him an egg and cheese sandwich to eat with his coffee. As Johannes ate, Multry fixed herself a pot of tea. “You’s out earlier than usual,” she observed. “Busy busy week after a busy busy weekend?” Johannes nodded, but then realised that Multry couldn’t see him. “Yes. I have much to do before the bonfire. I want the grounds to look nice when the guests arrive, and now that Madam Lydia’s son and daughter-in-law are returning, I would like to have more finished for their arrival next week. And I still have to work in my own garden and in the kailyard.” “The Master Professor should leave the kailyard and the other vegetable gardens to us. You do’s new work this week. Fandenz and Gweller work the herbs and vegetables. Mynok watches them. Then the Master Professor checks the house-elf work later. Yes?” “Yes,” Johannes agreed. “Please send Mynok to me so that I can tell him what I need done. And if Tastle and Gweller can assist me later today, that would be good, too. If Madam Siofre or Madam Lydia have no other tasks for them.” “Sorrel helps Madam Lydia today with preparations for Master Bertie and Madam Sally’s return. Madam Siofre doesn’t tell me yet what she does today.” “You will be left with a lot of work, all alone.” “No, Sorrel works hard, and Penty and Kaffrom can help, too. Shoolie watches the babies in the lodge with Lollie. Lollie is Shoolie’s daughter’s daughter,” Multry said, sitting down at her little table. “Shoolie can teach Lollie more about babies. Lollie is a good elf.” “I am sure she is.” Johannes finished his cup of coffee, and Multry immediately refilled it for him. “Duster and Kilbeena be’s very happy to help the Master Professor,” Multry said. “They are good children. I am glad to have them help.” “They helps you this morning, then?” “No, not this morning, or not until later in the morning. I will be in my garden early. It is not safe for little ones. When they are older—if I am here,” Johannes corrected himself quickly. “That is, if they were older, they could help me. There are some dangerous plants. I would have to watch them closely.” “I tell them they help the Master Professor another time,” Multry said with a nod. “Thank you for breakfast, Multry.” “It is always a pleasure to serve you,” Multry replied. Johannes stepped through the pantry and out into the kitchen garden. It was a chilly morning, but he would warm up quickly enough once he began working. A half hour later, as he crouched beside a bed of immature Mandragora, he heard the gate to his garden open and the crunch of a step on the fine gravel path. He rolled back to sit on his heels and glanced over his shoulder. When he saw who it was, he stood and brushed his hands off on his apron. “Siofre! Good morning! You are out early.” “As are you. I was surprised to come down to breakfast and learn from Multry you had already eaten and begun work.” “I wished to spend time in my own garden today,” Johannes explained, “so I needed an early start.” “You never neglect any other work. Don’t feel you must rise early simply to work in your garden,” Siofre replied. “I enjoy the early morning hours.” “I do, too,” Siofre said. “How are your Mandragora?” “Doing very well. Next spring, we shall be able to harvest them . . . Of course, that will require transplanting them . . . somewhere.” “Transplant them? You could put them in the greenhouse, I suppose. They would do better wintering over in the greenhouse, I am sure.” Johannes hesitated. “It would be good of you to allow me to keep them in your greenhouse. I could remove them elsewhere. I could find another solution before then. And with a Charmed cold frame built around them, they can even winter outdoors.” “Why move them anywhere, then, except to the greenhouse, if they would do better there?” Siofre asked. “This is your garden, and it will be yours next spring, and for as long as you wish it.” “I . . .” “Honestly, Johannes, we have no lack of land. You deprive us of nothing by using this wee parcel. You could have more, and we would only be enriched.” Johannes chuckled and shook his head slightly. “Enriched?” “Aye. We enjoy your presence here, you know. If you keep a garden here, we will be ensured of your continued visits,” Siofre said with a smile. “A bit of . . . blackmail, perhaps?” Johannes laughed. “Nay, no blackmail required. I would visit, anyway, whenever you wished. And I will continue to look after your gardens and grounds for you for as long as you require. I would return regularly.” “Good,” Siofre replied with a nod of approval. “Now, may I lend a hand here? I have to pay another visit to Gwyneth Terwilliger later this morning, but I have time until then.” “Ah . . . I would offer you to soothe the Leaping Toadstools, but I will save that pleasure for myself,” Johannes said, smiling, remembering her adventures with those lively fungi. Siofre laughed. “I could learn something from you, no doubt.” “I am placing a bit of this potion in with each mandrake root,” Johannes said, gesturing toward a tub of fine granular potion that looked like black sand. “It only needs a little—a quarter teaspoon per root. It is best done manually—would you like gloves?” Siofre shook her head. “What about their crying?” “I have cast a . . . a sort of sleep over them. They are also very young, and even if they were to cry, it would only make you feel uncomfortable. We only clear a little earth to one side, too, and we do not pull them. But if you would like, I could Transfigure some earplugs for you.” Siofre shook her head. “I trust the magister.” She knelt beside him. “Show me how much potion.” For the next hour, the two worked together in Johannes’s small garden, and when Johannes looked up at Siofre from across a bed of chamomile just as she looked up at him, he felt his breath catch and his heart beat faster. Her sparkling eyes seemed exceptionally bright that morning, and he didn’t know when he had ever felt so much life streaming through a person. He would return to the Tyree estate as often as he could for as long as he was welcome . . . If he could stay, he would never leave. Siofre smiled at him, and Johannes felt a blush creep over his cheeks as he returned her smile. He felt she must be able to see it in his eyes, his pleasure in her company, his undeniable pull toward her, his immense regard for her . . . “I should go in and change now,” Siofre said, “and then I must go into Edinburgh and pay a visit to the grandson before I Apparate to Cornwall to see Madam Terwilliger.” “You are going to the apothecary?” “Aye. There is a potion that I want Murdoch to brew for this job. ’Tis an old Tyree potion, not a standard. I haven’t had an opportunity to drop it by until today.” “You could have owled it to him,” Johannes said, standing. “Or I could have brought it on Saturday.” “I would trust you to bring it—and to explain that’s it’s not to be sold or passed on—but I’d like to speak with Murdoch in person, in any case.” “I need to go to Edinburgh today, myself. May I accompany you?” “Aye, that you may. Where do you go?” Johannes removed his work apron and cast a cleansing charm on his hands. “I am going to the bookshop, and then I am Apparating to the Mayfield Charmed Glassworks to speak with Madam Mayfield about the greenhouse materials, the number of square feet of glass, the support materials, the charms she will lay on the glass, the pricing, and so forth.” “I should be with you then.” Siofre frowned with thought. “Can you make your visit to the bookshop after meeting with Caroline?” “Yes, that is not a problem.” “Good, then we will go to the apothecary and then to Mayfield Glassworks, and then I can go on to Cornwall from there, and you can return to Edinburgh. I apologise for interfering with your plans.” Johannes shook his head. “I simply told Madam Mayfield that I would be there sometime this morning. I was not specific. And the bookshop has a book that I ordered. They could send it, but I enjoy bookshops. Browsing.” “I enjoy that, too,” Siofre replied, “but I rarely make the time.” “You should. We could stop there before we go to Mayfield’s.” Siofre shook her head. “I would like to, but I told Gwyneth I would be there to see her by eleven. I don’t want to be late.” “Then afterward,” Johannes suggested. “We could meet after you are finished in Cornwall. Have lunch in McTavish Street and then go to the bookshop and browse. You said you were not going to take on much work this week or next—” “Because we need to prepare for Bertrand and Sally—” “Lydia seems to be handling that well, and it seems there’s not much more to do. And Morgan and Fiona are settled. If they need anything from the main house, Lydia is here, and the house-elves. You said to me earlier that I do not neglect my work; neither do you. We can work later this afternoon. Come to lunch with me.” Johannes almost held his breath waiting for her response. “I dinna know . . . I suppose we can discuss the plans for the bonfire and for the grandson’s birthday . . .” “Or we could discuss those things later, when we work in the afternoon. You will meet me for lunch?” Siofre gave a little laugh. “Very well, I will meet you for lunch. Best I meet you at the bookshop, though. I believe I should be able to meet you at half past twelve, but if I am later, I do not wish to leave you sitting alone in a café.” Johannes grinned. “Good. Very good. But meet me here. We can leave from here. Twelve-thirty. I will meet you at the house at twelve-thirty.” “Aye. It’s a date, then.” Johannes’s face grew warm. “Aye, a date.” “Let’s go meet with Caroline Egidius, then, and discuss glass.” ~*~*~*~*~ Siofre returned from Cornwall at quarter to twelve, surprised to find that Johannes was not at the house, and Lydia told her that he was not out on the grounds, either. “We were meeting for lunch in Edinburgh,” Siofre said. “I thought we were meeting here at the house, but p’raps we are meeting in the bookshop.” “No, Johannes said he would be back at twelve-thirty,” Lydia said. “You’re just early.” “All right, then. I’ll go make my notes. I’ll be in my study.” “If I see him when he gets back, I’ll tell him,” Lydia said. “By the way, I’m going out to the cottage this afternoon with Multry. Sorrel will be taking care of supper—we thought something light tonight at about seven. Does that suit you?” “Fine. You are starting on the decorating?” “Just getting the place prepared for it. Seeing what’s salvageable and cleaning away the rest. Gweller may join us at some point, although I know that Johannes wanted some help in the gardens this afternoon. I told him he could have Fandenz, if you haven’t another job for him.” “That sounds fine. I’m going to have Brian start the plumbing out there next week, so bear that in mind. I think that all the existing pipes will need replacing, and we need to modernise the bathroom and put a loo in on the ground floor, as well. Don’t do anything that will just need to be redone after the plumbing’s in.” “Not to worry, sister, I am leaving the kitchen and bathroom for last, anyway. I’ll find a good spot for the downstairs loo—perhaps off the kitchen.” Siofre went upstairs to her study. After making her notes in her journal, she paged back over the previous weeks’ entries. She had done too much work for which she had deferred payment, she realised. At least the Smethwyck arbitration had been both lucrative and paid in full. The job for Gwyneth Terwilliger, however, would cost her not only time, but money, and more than the few Galleons that she had accepted from Gwyneth. Siofre knew that Gwyneth was concerned about her husband learning that she had been spending money on something he knew nothing about, so she had told the witch that if she were successful, and if Gwyneth still felt inclined to do so at the time, then when her child entered Hogwarts, happy, healthy, and with a father who did not mistreat mother or child, she could pay the balance at that time. Siofre recognised that she waived or lowered fees far too frequently to be a good business woman, and that she had her own obligations to her home and immediate family—in which she included more than just her children and her sister-in-law—but she could not turn a witch away whom she could help simply because the woman didn’t have much money. Johannes’s plan to make more money from the estate itself seemed an excellent solution. The estate hadn’t sold any produce, grain, lumber, or anything else, on a regular basis since Siofre’s father had passed away. When Murdoch had been alive, he had never taken in more than a hundred Galleons a year from the sale of produce, and usually quite a bit less. No doubt, it would take a few years before they could generate a good income from the estate, but she thought that within the next five years, they could make the place quite profitable. She hoped that Johannes would continue to manage that aspect of the estate. He had said he would check on the gardens and grounds regularly, but that wasn’t the same as overseeing it. The thought of Johannes leaving the estate saddened Siofre, but life was filled with changes, with gains and losses. She knew that the magister wished to have his own bit of land with a greenhouse and establish himself as an independent Herbologist. Perhaps she could lease him a bit of the estate. There was some nice land to the south of the main house, and there had been a house there once, its foundations still standing not far from an old hill fort. It was picturesque, if a bit removed from anything, but she doubted that Johannes would mind that. He could always maintain an office of some sort in Hogsmeade or the Clypeum, somewhere like that. Of course, perhaps he had planned to move someplace else entirely, buy a piece of land in England and not stay in Scotland. Siofre couldn’t imagine wanting to live in England once knowing the Highlands, but she recognised that she was biassed. At about quarter past twelve, Siofre heard a crack. Someone was Disapparating—a house-elf, she thought. Johannes would be arriving soon, but she didn’t want to appear to be waiting for him, so she resisted the urge to go downstairs. It was obvious to Siofre now, although it hadn’t been unnoticeable before, that Johannes had a very distinct reaction to her presence and her touch. There was something rather nice about knowing that her mere touch, even unaccompanied by any tickling of her magic, caused him to blush and feel attracted to her. He clearly enjoyed it, too. If it made him at all uncomfortable, it was not in a way to make him avoid her—quite the opposite, in fact. She never ought to have called their lunch a date as she had. He might misconstrue the word, imbue it with more meaning than it had. A wave of remorse swept over her. She ought not be so careless with his feelings. The dear man had had more than enough difficulty in his life without her toying with him—whether she had meant to in that moment or not. Perhaps Malcolm had been right, and she was doing the youthful Herbologist a disservice in keeping him there at the estate, persuading him even to give up his weekends to her. She would make sure that he went to his home the coming weekend. It might not be a bad idea to encourage Malcolm to take the lad out for drinks. The following weekend, of course, was a different matter. There was the Beltane bonfire and the party the next day, and Johannes would be there as a guest, not as the estate’s Herbologist gardener. There would be several single witches, there, as well. Despite—or perhaps because of—Lydia’s incredulous questions about inviting Lachina to come to the estate a few days early, Siofre had asked her young kinswoman to come to visit for the week, ostensibly to keep Phoebe company and spend time with Fiona, Morgan, and the babies. Lachina had written back agreeing to come to stay at the estate, although she couldn’t make it a complete holiday, and would have to spend a few hours each day at the jeweller’s where she was one of three master jewellers and gem charmers. It would still give her and Johannes an opportunity to become acquainted. Siofre put her journal away in its drawer and left her study, crossing the hall to her sitting room, from where she could see the front drive. As she gazed out the window and waited for Johannes, she reflected on her own feelings for the magister. Her feelings were not as simple as Lydia drew them. It was not merely a matter of finding the wizard handsome or enjoying his company, and her feelings for him went beyond simple affection and appreciation. More than that, she cared about his welfare. He clearly valued family, and it obviously had taken him a long time to recover from the tragic loss of his own. Siofre wanted him to have a new chance at a family. Yet she would not deny that she found Johannes more than handsome, and more than just a theoretically attractive man. She was more strongly attracted to Johannes than she had been to any man in many, many decades, and she was more than slightly fond of him. She was falling in love for the first time since she was a girl, Siofre recognised, and if Johannes were a different sort of man with a different sort of history—and if he weren’t so much younger than she, much younger even than her own son, though older than her daughter by at least a decade—then she wouldn’t hesitate to draw him in and to fall in love, herself. She wanted to give him a chance to make another choice before she made one for him—for once she decided to allow Johannes to pursue her, she would catch him and she would keep him. Until then, she would have to try to restrain herself. Reining in some of her inappropriately suggestive remarks would be a good place to begin. By the standards of the day, suggesting that they were having a date was hardly anything at all. Siofre chuckled drily to herself. Even by the standards of her own girlhood, it was hardly anything at all, but for Johannes, such remarks would surely bring him around to thinking of her as something far more than his employer, more than Malcolm’s grandmother, and more than his friend. He was already sliding in that direction as it was. There was a dull snap, and Siofre looked out the window. There was Johannes, changed from the clothes he had worn to their meeting with Caroline Egidius Mayfield that morning. He was still wearing cuffed brown trousers and smooth brown leather boots, but it looked as though he had changed his shirt and waistcoat, and he was wearing a deep green over-robe, open down the front, and a matching green hat with a creased crown and a broad brim. Johannes strode up the drive, and Siofre turned from the window and left her study. As she walked down the flight of stairs to the entry hall, she Summoned her cloak and hat. She caught them, and the door opened below her. Johannes stepped through and immediately looked up to see her. His smile was instantaneous and warm, and Siofre returned it. “Good afternoon, Madam Tyree,” Johannes said, still smiling. “You are ready for lunch?” “Aye, indeed, Professor.” “Then let us depart.” Johannes gestured toward the still-open door behind him and bowed slightly. “I could Apparate us this time,” Siofre offered, quickly adding, “if you would like. Or we could meet there, in the small park.” “Nay.” Johannes tried to suppress his smile, but he was clearly very pleased. “We do not return to McTavish Street,” he explained as Siofre stepped through the door. “We aren’t? Where are we going?” “You will soon see,” Johannes replied, his eyes sparkling. He closed the door with a wave of his hand. Siofre took his arm. “Very well, Honnie, I will trust you and let you surprise me.” She smiled up at him. A few moments later, she found herself in the back garden of the flat that Johannes rented in Hogsmeade. “I remembered you said you were not particularly fond of eating out in restaurants,” Johannes said, opening the door that led into his kitchen, “therefore, I thought I might spend my meagre culinary skills today—although I have had a little help.” Siofre stepped into the kitchen to find his table set for two, a brightly patterned tablecloth covering the plain wooden kitchen table and two new blue cushions on the wooden chair seats. Sorrel, dressed in a candy-striped set of towels, was hovering beside the cook stove, looking into a pot. He replaced the lid as they entered. “Everything still nice nice, Master Professor!” Sorrel pronounced. “Nothing overdone—and I passes a little charm over your fish,” he added in a whisper, “so’s it stays bee-yew-tee-ful.” Johannes grinned at the house-elf’s whisper. “Good, thank you, Sorrel.” He turned to Siofre and took her hat and cloak. “Sorrel was kind enough to agree to watch the food whilst I fetched you. I did not wish to leave it untended.” “You cooked? How lovely!” Siofre felt genuinely and deeply touched by Johannes’s effort—regardless of how the meal would taste. She took a sniff. It actually smelled quite nice, although the aroma of cooked fish did predominate. “What is on the menu, other than fish?” “You shall see,” Johannes said as he held her chair for her. “I hope you will find it . . . enjoyable.” “I am already enjoying myself,” Siofre replied. “Thank you for your help, Sorrel. You may return to the house now. And thank Madam Lydia for me, as well.” Sorrel nodded, smiling, and Disapparated from the kitchen. “May I offer you a glass of wine?” Johannes asked. “It is a dry Sylvaner.” “Yes, I would like to try it. I’ve never had that before.” “It is a little similar, I think, to Riesling. It is from a friend in Germany,” Johannes replied, pouring the wine into one of the glasses by Siofre’s place. “It will go well with our meal, I hope.” He poured himself a glass, set down the bottle, then raised his glass to Siofre. “To you and your good health.” “And to yours,” Siofre said, adding, “Slàinte.” Johannes grinned. “Slàinte mhor!” Siofre laughed. “You have been drinking with the grandson!” Johannes shrugged and smiled. “That and ‘ceilidh’ are the only words I have.” He put his glass down and turned to the cooker. “What is it in German? What would you say for a general toast to the health of the drinker?” “I would say, ‘zum Wohl,’” Johannes said, lifting the lid from the pot and pouring some cream into it. “Tsum Vohl,” Siofre repeated carefully. “What is that you’re stirring?” “Our first course. Sorrel soup—of the vegetative variety, not house-elf,” he said, looking over his shoulder at Siofre and smiling. She laughed. “I have not had that. We sometimes had sorrel in salads when I was a lass.” “This is something my mother would make us,” Johannes said as he ladled out the soup. “I hoped it would be a refreshing start for our meal. In summer, it is nice served cold.” He placed Siofre’s soup bowl in front of her, then set his own down. “Oh, I forget the rolls—these are not from me,” he said standing and retrieving the rolls and butter from the counter. “Multry provided them.” “Thank you, Johannes.” She took a sip of the soup. “Very nice. Tart and lovely.” “The following course is fish, asparagus, and potatoes,” Johannes said. “Then I will skip the bread, enjoy the soup, and be sure to have room for the rest of the meal. Oh, this is good soup!” “There is more, if you like.” “I am tempted. This soup and some rolls alone would have made a wonderful meal. I do not remember the last time that someone cooked a meal just for me—other than the house-elves, of course. Thank you.” “I hope you do not mind the setting. It is not—” “It is very comfortable. And I like the cushions. Are they new?” Johannes nodded as he swallowed his soup. “Found them this morning in a Muggle shop that I know. I liked the bright colour.” “Very cheerful,” Siofre agreed. “More soup?” When Siofre declined, he picked up the soup bowls. “Then the next course. It is trout with dill weed and lemon. The asparagus has a Hollandaise sauce, and there are small potatoes with butter and parsley.” Siofre smiled. “It sounds wonderful.” “You always seem to enjoy fish. I hope this preparation is to your taste.” As Siofre took her first taste of the trout, prepared to be polite if it were merely edible, she let out an involuntary sigh of pleasure. When she had swallowed and flaked off another forkful of fish, she said, “This is very good, Johannes, truly. It is more than just dill and lemon.” “There is also a little white wine, a little butter, shallots, some ground white pepper, but really, very simple. Just a home recipe. Another of my mother’s dishes. I always think hers was better. But I do not cook often now.” “Save a bit for Multry and tell her how you made it. We can have her make it—if you don’t mind sharing it.” “Not at all. I will write it down for her, too.” “And the sorrel soup?” Johannes laughed. “Yes, and the sorrel soup. Sorrel laughed when I told him it was sorrel soup. He said that he should learn to make it.” “The asparagus and the potatoes are very nice, as well.” “I am glad my choices were good ones.” “Excellent. This was a wonderful surprise and a delicious meal. Much better than a restaurant,” Siofre said. “The atmosphere is not as good.” “It is not ‘as good’: it is better,” Siofre said. She smiled and leaned back, picking up her wineglass. “I am quite comfortable in your kitchen, in your company.” Johannes smiled happily. “I am glad. How was your morning after we parted? How is Madam Terwilliger?” “She is doing well. The charms are working as planned. Cadoc has trouble becoming drunk, anyway—or at least, trouble becoming a mean drunk. He seems to be calming in some respects, but now he is irritable because he can’t drink without getting sick or passing out as soon as he crosses his home’s threshold.” “That is an improvement?” “Aye,” Siofre said with a nod. “But not enough. I wish to observe him this week. I plan to follow him from his home on Wednesday morning, and then—” “You cannot do that—what I mean is, is that not dangerous? Following that man?” Johannes corrected himself hastily. Siofre raised an eyebrow. “Nay. If someone else tried, p’raps then. But he’ll never know I’m there.” Johannes was quiet for a moment, cutting a small potato into even smaller pieces. “Should you bring someone with you?” “If I did that, it would be more likely he’d notice us.” Recognising Johannes’s worry and his reluctance to say anything negative to her, Siofre reached across the table and patted his hand. “Do not worry, Honnie. When I do have a case where it might be better to have help, I can ask Malcolm. But this isn’t such a case. I just want to see the wizard . . . evaluate him. I shan’t be casting any charms on the man—or hexes.” “And the potion that you are having Murdoch brew?” Siofre laughed. “I won’t be slipping that into his tea. ’Twould likely only make him rather sick to his stomach—although if he hasn’t destroyed his sense of taste, he’d spit it out before he swallowed it. The potion isn’t for him. It’s for Gwyneth, and it isn’t meant to be ingested. It’s to be spread about the house. I’ll do the first application, to the windowsills and the floorboards whilst casting a few charms, and then leave it with her to use as she’s doing the housecleaning. Rub it into the furniture as she dusts, put it in the laundry, that sort of thing. Should relax her, at the very least, and hopefully it will pacify and . . . cheer Cadoc and anyone else in the home.” “Oh, I see. And . . . and . . . I am sorry, but I am worried. You are sure it is safe? To follow Terwilliger, I mean.” “As houses, lad.” Johannes looked puzzled. “Safe as houses—safe as can be. Dinna worry, Johannes. I’ll be home for dinner and tell you and Lydia all of the dull quotidian details of the man’s life.” Johannes sighed and nodded. “Very well. But do . . . do take care.” “I shall. You know that Lydia’s begun the work down at Minerva’s cottage?” Siofre asked, changing the subject. “Yes. She said she is getting it ready to decorate.” “As soon as the plumbing is done, I want to finish the decorating as quickly as we can. I would like to present it to Minerva before the end of the Hogwarts school year. She seemed . . . tired on Sunday. Didn’t you think she did?” “Yes, she did. But it is a busy time of year, after Easter, before the final examinations of the year, and as the Deputy Headmistress, she has new responsibilities this year that she hasn’t had before.” Siofre nodded. “I hope that she can come for the bonfire and stay for the weekend, but it will not be a surprise if she comes for only a few hours on Saturday. I was surprised that she arrived yesterday, actually. I could see that Morgan and Fiona were surprised, as well.” “It was good to see her, though, and I think she wanted to see the babies. They grow fast, as she says.” Johannes quirked a smile. “I think she was surprised to become the new target for David’s vegetables.” Siofre laughed. “Aye, but it was funny. We shouldn’t encourage the lad to throw his food, but it is still amusing.” “I think he does not like sprouts,” Johannes said. “Either that, or he has decided that they make very good missiles.” “I think he will be a Chaser,” Siofre replied. “He’s just refining his aim.” “Aiden never minds, either. It is funny. He just laughs.” Johannes shook his head in amusement. “I was surprised to see that Morgana eats pickled gherkins. They do not seem a food for babies.” Siofre chuckled. “It was one of her first solid foods. She’d steal them from her mother’s plate. She’d ignore her own steamed carrot sticks and boiled broccoli and happily gum away on a sour gherkin.” “I would prefer a gherkin to boiled broccoli, myself, but not now. I have made dessert, if you would like pudding. There is more asparagus and potato, though.” “I think the sweet would be nice. I am looking forward to seeing what you have—although biscuits and tea would be fine.” “It is not biscuits. It is, I think you call it fruit soup, but it seems not like soup to me. Rote Grütze, with fresh cream over it. I made it with mixed berries. A kind of cold pudding. It is best in summer, when the weather is warm, but I like it all the time.” “It sounds lovely.” Siofre cocked her head, listening. “Is that thunder?” There was another, louder crack of thunder. Johannes looked up as he began to clear the table. “Hm. Yes, I suppose it was. I thought it was not supposed to rain until tonight.” Rain began to beat against the kitchen windows. “No work in the garden this afternoon,” Siofre said. There was another loud crack of thunder reverberating through the surrounding hills. “No Apparating back in this, either.” “Then after dessert, we can discuss the greenhouse, the bonfire, the party . . . and I have another bottle of Sylvaner.” Johannes smiled. “Join me in the sitting room?” “It is times like this when I do see the convenience of being on the Floo Network,” Siofre said, but then she smiled. “This afternoon, however, I think I prefer to be inconvenienced here with you . . .”
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Hogwarts Duo
First Year
Does it get any better than ADMM?
Posts: 53
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Post by Hogwarts Duo on Sept 4, 2010 18:56:52 GMT -5
Yay!! They're finally making a little progress towards courting. I'm so excited.
The way Johannes looks at Siofre is so sweet, especially as their eyes locked over the chamomile. That gave me the warm fuzzies. tee hee.
Sounds like Johannes went to a lot of trouble for their meal and I'm glad Siofre approved of and enjoyed it. It was nice that he chose to go to so much trouble for her and to have her over to his flat instead of going somewhere in public. Squeeee!!!
And the ending of the chapter, with the rain and the wine ... dreamy sigh. That was just perfect! I can't wait to see what happens next between these two!!!
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Post by MMADfan on Sept 16, 2010 15:20:47 GMT -5
Chapter Fifteen: Right as a Rainbow “And I thought a deep teal green for the dining room,” Lydia finished, picking up her coffee cup. “That sounds fine, hen,” Siofre said. She poured herself another cup of tea. “Do you have time to go through the attics with me today sometime? Johannes said that he could help for a while after lunch.” “We can all do that together then—unless you had some other work in mind for Johannes?” “Not particularly. I thought he might help us pick out furniture, too. His suggestions for colours were good, and he mentioned that Minerva has a fondness for tartans, so I thought that I would use some tartan fabric for accents in the sitting room and in the bedrooms, and then pick up some of the colours from those for the upholstery. I’d like to have the furniture chosen so I know what I will need to re-upholster and begin finding fabrics.” “Fine,” Siofre replied with a nod. “It should be ready by the end of May, just as you hoped—unless the plumbing takes longer than Brian said. As you suggested, I am doing nothing with the kitchen and bathroom until he has finished with that.” Siofre nodded. “And you selected an appropriate location for the downstairs loo?” “I thought of either using part of the old atelier—just blocking off the area to the left of the door, right next to the kitchen—or perhaps that open area under the first floor landing next to the cupboard under the stair.” “I think that next to the kitchen would be better, since there would be less new pipe to put in,” Siofre said. “I thought so, too. There’s a sink in the atelier, as well, so I think there must already be piping between the kitchen and the atelier.” “Good.” “You’re quiet this morning,” Lydia observed. “Didn’t sleep well?” “I slept fine,” Siofre replied. “I simply have had nothing to say.” “I thought you would be more enthusiastic about the work on the cottage.” “I am, but there are many other things going on, as well. Bertrand and Sally’s return, arranging for someone to fetch their belongings when they arrive next week, planning for the ceilidh and Murdoch’s birthday party, and then there’s Morag and Patrick’s daughter, Cara—I told you about that situation, didn’t I?” “You just mentioned that she seemed to be becoming involved with someone unsuitable or something like that,” Lydia said. “You didn’t say anything else.” “She and James Murphy . . . they seem to be developing an unwise affection for each other.” “Unwise affection?” “The way that their parents are all related to each other, the two are practically as close as a brother and sister, in terms of blood relationship. Bridie tried talking to the girl, but it didn’t help. Cara doesn’t see James in a sisterly way.” “It might just be a passing fancy,” Lydia said. “It might be best not to make a fuss. That just might push the two together, and they might decide to run off.” “I know, and they’re both too young, anyway.” “How old are they now? I don’t think I even know James.” “Sixteen and seventeen. The Murphys lived in County Meath until last year when they moved back to the island—it’s part of what makes it difficult for Cara and James to see each other as close relatives. They barely knew each other until recently.” “Well, they’re young. It should pass.” “Perhaps . . .” “And it’s not as though it’s your immediate responsibility to do anything about it—do the parents want you to cast spells on them to keep them apart and unattracted to each other?” Lydia asked. “They haven’t said. I would not do that in any case, especially as they are so young. Such a thing would have too great an effect on them.” Siofre shook her head. “Nay, you’re right, I needn’t worry overmuch about them.” “Would you like more breakfast? You didn’t eat much this morning.” “I am not very hungry. I’ll have something later if I am.” “You seem, I don’t know, subdued this morning, Siofre, and you came down later than I did. Are you feeling well?” “I am quite well.” Siofre looked out the window. “P’raps ’tis this grey weather.” “It is supposed to rain off and on all day, according to Maisie’s column,” Lydia said, tapping the newspaper. “You know, when you came home yesterday evening with Johannes, you seemed happy. You said you had a good time—” “We had a lovely afternoon,” Siofre said, interrupting, “though it was not as we had planned it. The storm kept us from our work.” “That wasn’t a bad thing yesterday, though. In fact, since it’s so wet today, why don’t you and Johannes spend the morning together? It might cheer you up.” “I do not require cheering up. Johannes said that he would work outdoors when it wasn’t actually raining, and otherwise, he would be in the conservatory. I have things of my own to do, as well.” “Well, at least it’s a good day to work indoors, to go through the attics looking at furniture and such.” Siofre smiled at that. “Aye. That will be fun. You know, I think that most of the original furniture from the cottage is in the storeroom in the north tower. Uncle Merwyn made much of it himself. It would be nice to use at least some of it.” “I don’t have much recollection of what the upstairs was like there,” Lydia said, “but do you remember the Queen Anne bedroom set that used to be in one of the bedrooms that Murdoch tore out when he expanded the library? That was actually very nice. I thought that might go well in the master bedroom. I don’t know where Murdoch put it, though Shoolie or Mynok might know.” “Aye, that would go well in the main bedroom. Uncle Merwyn had something rather more ornate, if I remember right. But I don’t think that would be to Minerva’s taste.” “You know, I’d never been on the second floor of the cottage when Merwyn was living. Was it just guest rooms?” “Two guest rooms and a library. The books were all moved here when he died.” “Do you think we ought to have another bathroom put in up there? Or at least a loo?” Siofre nodded. “I will ask Brian what that would add to the cost.” “There goes Johannes,” Lydia said, directing Siofre’s attention to the window. “He said he was going to transplant some bushes this morning if it didn’t pour down rain.” Siofre watched Johannes crossing through the herb garden, though not stopping. The brim of his dark green hat dripped, and it was still misting out, but he didn’t seem bothered by the wet. Some garden tools and a crate floated behind him, following him from the big shed to wherever he planned to work that morning. Siofre continued to gaze, unfocussed, out the window even after Johannes was out of view. Their afternoon together had been lovely, as she had told Lydia, and the evening after they had returned from Hogsmeade had continued to be just as enjoyable. After supper, Lydia had played the piano, and she and Johannes had sat and read in the sitting room, the doors between the two rooms open, listening to Lydia’s selection of Chopin, Liszt, and Brahms. Lydia had also played her own composition, which was still unfinished, and Siofre and Johannes had gone into the music room to hear it. After expressing her enjoyment of the new piece to her sister-in-law, Siofre had retired for the evening, bringing her journal into her bedroom with her to record notes of the meeting with Caroline Mayfield about the greenhouse, which she’d not had time for earlier in the day. Siofre had found herself distracted, however, and after jotting down only a few essential points, she had set the journal aside, finished preparing for bed, then lain down and turned off her bedside lamp. As she lay in bed, Siofre could just barely hear individual notes drifting up from the music room. In order not to disturb Siofre, Lydia or Johannes had likely closed all of the doors to the music room after she had left for bed. Probably Johannes. It didn’t matter what she tried to think about, Siofre’s thoughts turned back to Johannes. They had spent the rainy afternoon in his sitting room, cosy and warm, a fire in the fireplace, and they had discussed business—the greenhouse, the bere, the orchards, the various outbuildings in the central part of the estate and which ones were in need of attention, how the formal gardens were shaping up, the possibility of creating an Asian-style garden, and how to revive the coppice. But whatever they talked about, it never felt like business to Siofre, though it did feel like a partnership. Siofre loved the Tyree land, and she thought that part of the attraction that Johannes held for her was his devotion to the estate, but beyond that, despite his formality and attention to courtesy, he had an easy, relaxed manner, and warmth and kindness seemed to radiate from him. He had a good sense of humour, as well, though it was never cruel. Yet despite his gentleness and basically sweet nature, Johannes was still strong and masculine. Virile. That afternoon in his sitting room, Johannes had wound his gramophone and they had listened to music as they shared more wine and discussed business. It had been lovely, the nicest date she had ever been on, the rain pattering outside, occasional flashes of lightning, the gramophone playing, a glass of white wine in her hand, and Johannes sitting across from her . . . “Are you sure you’re all right, Siofre?” Lydia asked, a concerned look on her face. Siofre blinked and looked over at her sister-in-law. “Pardon?” “You don’t seem yourself this morning. Perhaps you should go back to bed. I hope you’re not coming down with anything.” Siofre shook her head. “But I do think I’ll spend the morning in my sitting room. More tea will help, too.” “Good. You let one of the house-elves know if you need me for anything. Have a quiet morning, and I’ll have Multry fix something special for lunch.” Lydia reached over and squeezed Siofre’s arm. “I’m sorry if I upset you yesterday. And I’m glad you had a good time with Johannes, but I won’t go on about it anymore. You do what you think’s best. Don’t let me complicate things more for you.” Siofre twitched a smile. “I’m just tired, hen.” She patted Lydia’s hand. “I’ve been doing a lot lately—a lot of Apparating, a lot of casting, a lot of quiet fretting. A quiet morning is all I need. You know me. I’ll be right as rain by this afternoon.” She looked out at the drizzle. “Although looking at this, I don’t know what’s so right about rain.” Lydia chuckled. “Seems a silly expression to me. When I was a girl, we used to say, ‘right as nails,’ remember?” Siofre nodded. “Aye, I heard that often. And my grandfather used to say, ‘right as wands.’” “That makes more sense to me,” Lydia said. Siofre looked out the window again. The clouds were parting over one of the hills across from the house and the sun peeped out. She smiled and pointed. “Look!” “Oh, how beautiful!” Lydia exclaimed. “That’s what the expression should be: right as a rainbow! Everything will be right as a rainbow, Siofre. Right as a rainbow.” After a morning spent reading in her sitting room and not thinking about either work or the dilemma presented by Johannes, Siofre was in a brighter mood when she came down for lunch, which they took in the family dining room as usual when there were three of them there. Lydia met her in the sitting room and greeted her with a smile. “Quimpy came by and delivered a potion from young Murdoch for you. I didn’t have him disturb you, since I think it’s the one for the Terwilliger witch.” “Ach, so fast!” Siofre exclaimed with a smile. “I hadn’t thought it would be ready for a few days yet.” Lydia handed her a folded note. “Murdoch’s a good lad—though I suppose he’s not a ‘lad’ any longer.” “I didn’t think he would have the time,” Siofre said, unfolding the note. Tuesday, 21 April 1959
Dear Grandmother Siofre,
I brewed this last night after my apprentice left. She didn’t even get a glimpse of the formula, and all that I brewed is here. I put the formula in the box with the potion bottle. It hasn’t left my possession since you gave it to me! How’s that for respecting the Tyree secrets?
I am looking forward to the bonfire and the party. Poppy said that she could get away from the school for the day, and she might be able to even come late to the bonfire. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help prepare. I can easily take a day or two and come to the estate early. Uncle Perrin said his birthday present to me this year is a few days off, so he’ll be coming into the shop and giving me a holiday. I’d enjoy seeing Bertrand and Sally again before the hoards descend on the estate. I’d also like to see what Johannes has done with the gardens. It all sounds very ambitious. He’s quite a prize for the estate, I think.
See you soon!
Love,
Murdoch Siofre nodded as she finished the letter. “I will pop over later this afternoon to see Gwyneth and apply the potion.” “Should you—” “’Tis important, Lydia hen,” Siofre said. “Remember, there’s a bairn on the way, too.” “And you’ll be feeling responsible for that baby till she has grandchildren of her own.” “I’ll not be around then to see that, I’m sure,” Siofre said with a laugh. “But you will, you know you will,” Lydia replied. “You may not show it, but your heart is as big as the whole of the estate, bigger, and you take in everyone who comes to you. Would you like company this afternoon? I’ll come with you, if you like.” “I’d appreciate it, but Gwyneth is a bit shy about it all, and with the nosy neighbour . . . I’ve worked a way around their wards so I just Apparate directly into the kitchen now. I daren’t try it with a Side-Along.” “Into the kitchen? What if Cadoc’s home?” “Only during the day when he’s away at work, which is the only time I’d visit, anyway. Don’t worry about it. It will all be right as rain—as right as a rainbow!” Siofre patted her arm. “Now, where is the magister? And what is for lunch?”
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Post by MMADfan on Sept 27, 2010 21:16:55 GMT -5
Chapter Seventeen: Poetry and MusicFor the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, Johannes worked in the new large vegetable garden that he had planted below the house on the other side of the ridge past the lodge. The ground was wet from the soaking rains of the previous two days, but it was good to work, and the smell of the rich, damp earth was invigorating. He worked, concentrated on his task, his mind focussed on the seedlings and on the earth, feeling a deep sense of peace and well-being. Finally at half-past six, Johannes returned his tools to the nearby shed, hanging his work apron on a hook there and washing his hands at the pump, and started the long walk up to the lodge, from where he could Disapparate for the main house. There were only a few open Apparition points on the grounds, and there was none near that garden, nor near the field of barley down above the sea far to the southwest of the house, and he usually had a house-elf Apparate him down to that acreage. The previous day, Siofre had Apparated them both back to the estate so that they could arrive directly in the entry hall of the house and avoid the wet walk up from the drive. Johannes didn’t mind this walk, though. The hills surrounding him echoed with the distant sound of the waves on the shore and with the rushing of the waters from the streams, swollen now from the steady rains, crashing their way down to join the sea. It was a restful and yet invigorating sound. He reached the lodge gardens, taking a cursory look at them, and saw Fiona in one of the upstairs windows. She waved at him, and he waved back, smiling. It did somehow feel that the estate was more alive now that the McGonagalls had moved into the lodge. Fiona was bubbly and sweet, with great enthusiasm, and Morgan was equally sweet, though he was easily the quietest McGonagall whom Johannes had ever met. It would be interesting to see how the quads grew and developed. It was clear already that David was active and energetic, and slightly better coordinated than his brother Aiden, though they were identical twins. Aiden was good natured and smiley, laughing when his brother lobbed his carrots and sprouts at him. Branwen and Morgana were both more fastidious than their brothers and more coordinated than either brother, too, and more serious. It had amused Johannes to see Morgana carefully picking up one pea at a time and putting it in her mouth to eat it. Branwen did the same, though she often pinched the pea a bit too hard before it reached her mouth, and she would suck it off her fingers. When David and Aiden tried to eat their peas, the few that they were given, they grabbed with their entire hand, closing tight little fists around them and then gazing with fascination at the green pulp that squeezed out between their fingers. Siofre had been right: they were messy little eaters. For pudding, the babies had had vanilla custard, and Johannes had volunteered to help feed them. Using little silver spoons, Minerva and Siofre had fed the boys, Lydia had fed Branwen, and he had fed Branwen’s twin, allowing their parents to eat their dessert at the same time as their children. Morgana had stared up at him with dark, serious eyes, and he felt he was being examined and his trustworthiness assessed. She already tried to hold the spoon herself, and she obviously wished to be in complete control of her meal. She would place her tiny hand on his as he brought the custard to her mouth, and when she had taken it, she would hold out her hand and push his away until she was ready for the next mouthful. Johannes could see how it would be very helpful for the McGonagalls to have their house-elves help feed the babies, though even the house-elves did it by hand rather than using magic, in order that the children learn better how to use a spoon. In fact, Johannes could not imagine how two parents could manage four babies on their own and without any assistance. It was fortunate that Morgan worked from his home—which Fiona had done, as well, until the children were born. She hoped to begin working again, but she had set no specific time to return to her editorial duties. Since she was still breastfeeding the babies before each meal—and with four children, that took a good deal of time—Johannes didn’t see how she could manage returning to her editing work until the children were weaned, even with house-elf help. He had been curious about how she managed to breastfeed four infants, though of course he hadn’t asked, but he had overheard Minerva and Fiona talking, and had learned that until about a month before, the babies had also had a wet-nurse from the island, and the babies had rotated between their mother and their nurse. There were apparently also lactation spells that had helped, although Johannes did not want to know the details. He thought that Beate had used such spells once or twice when she first began breastfeeding their daughter, but that was witches’ magic, and he didn’t know anything about how it worked. After inspecting the flower beds near the lodge’s front entrance, Johannes Apparated to the main drive outside the house. He cleaned his muddy boots before stepping into the entry hall, and he could hear Siofre and Lydia in the family dining room. He removed his hat and cloak, Sorrel Apparating to him with a snap and taking the garments to the cloakroom off the kitchen, where Johannes normally kept his outdoor work garments, and as he approached the dining room, the witches’ voices became clearer. They were talking about Bertrand and Sally. Johannes leaned in through the open double-doors of the dining room. “My apologies. I am late. I must change, but I shall be quick. Please, do not wait for me.” Siofre shook her head. “Nay, change after, if you must, but eat now with us.” Johannes glanced down at his worn brown work clothes, shrugged, and joined the two witches at the table. He would not make a habit of sitting down to dinner in his work clothes, but it would not disturb the order of the universe to do so occasionally, he thought. Siofre rang the little silver bell by her place, and the food appeared on the table. “You did not have to wait for me,” Johannes said as Siofre Summoned his plate and began to fill it with shepherd’s pie for him, then doing the same for Lydia. “We would not have waited long,” Siofre said with a laugh. “I have too great an appetite tonight. I am glad that Multry fixed something hearty.” “Did it go well at the Terwilligers’?” Johannes asked. “Aye, quite,” Siofre replied, digging into her mashed potatoes. “Apparently, Cadoc is already beginning to behave better,” Lydia informed him as Siofre ate. “Siofre says that he’s on edge, though.” Siofre took a swallow of water and nodded. “The potion should help with that. It is very soothing.” “Good. I am happy to hear this,” Johannes said. “This means you will not have to follow the husband tomorrow, or?” Siofre chuckled. “My dear Johannes, you are distressed by that, aren’t you? But I shall still follow the man. There must be troubles in his life, things his wife does not know. It might help me to discover what they are.” Johannes nodded. “Mrs Terwilliger is a fortunate witch to have you assisting her.” “Her baby is due very soon . . . I worry that she contacted me too late,” Siofre said, “but therefore I must simply work a little harder. I showed her how to apply the potion—perfectly safe for the bairn, both now and when it enters the world, and Gwyneth will show it to the girl who comes in to help clean once a week so that she can continue to apply it even after the bairn is born if she does not wish to do it herself.” The conversation moved on to other topics, and after eating, Johannes excused himself to change, saying that he would join the witches in the sitting room after he was more presentable. “I believe you’re always quite presentable, Johannes,” Lydia said, “and I’m sure that Siofre agrees with me, don’t you, Siofre?” “Let the man be comfortable,” Siofre said, avoiding the question. “I need to fetch my correspondence, and I will join you in a few minutes, Lydia.” Johannes and Siofre walked up the broad staircase together, Johannes mentioning that he had worked in the lower gardens that afternoon, and she exclaimed at that. “’Tis no wonder you were delayed for dinner,” Siofre said. “That is a long walk.” “I Apparated from the lodge, and it is a beautiful walk, everything glistening from the rain, the sound of the streams, the different scents—I sometimes think I could find my way about the estate by the scents alone, each area is so distinctive.” Siofre smiled at that. “Aye, that is true. But it would be convenient, even safer for you, if you could Apparate freely on the estate.” They paused at the top of the stairs on the first floor. “It brings to mind something that occurred to me yesterday when we returned from your flat. I should add you to the family wards.” “It is not necessary,” Johannes began. “Nay, I should have done it many weeks ago,” Siofre said, holding up her hand and brooking no dissent. “We can do it on Thursday, if that is agreeable. I would do it sooner, but tomorrow I must follow Terwilliger.” Johannes bowed slightly. “As you wish. Thank you, Siofre.” Siofre waved away his thanks. “I will see you in a few minutes.” After changing clothes, Johannes went back downstairs. He had not thought about what Lydia had said that afternoon over tea and fresh scones, but he had not forgotten it, either. It seemed to him appropriate advice, if that was what Lydia had given him, and he was already fairly certain of what course he would take, though unsure precisely how he would proceed. But as Lydia had also counselled patience, it seemed to Johannes that there was no urgency to make any specific plans, either. In the sitting room, Lydia was sitting in her armchair, her feet up on an ottoman in front of her, and Siofre was sitting at one end of the sofa. Lydia was reading a book, and Siofre had a letter in her hand and a book next to her. Johannes sat at the other end of the couch and opened his own book on Dendromancy. He was engrossed in the chapter on wand woods when he heard Lydia say his name, and he looked up. “You know, Johannes, I’ve been reading some of my favourite German poetry lately, and it’s lovely, but it would be even better if read aloud—by someone whose mother tongue was German, especially. Could you possibly read a few of the poems aloud?” Lydia asked, smiling. “I would enjoy it so much. You have a beautiful voice, and it would be wonderful for me if you would.” Johannes felt embarrassed by her description of his voice, but he nodded and set aside his own book. “It would be my pleasure.” Siofre set down her letter on the table beside her, prepared to listen, as well, though she did not speak German. “Could you begin with this one?” Lydia asked, handing him the open book. Johannes glanced at it. Goethe. “ Ja, sicher,” he replied automatically as his eyes grazed the German words. “ Rastlose Liebe,” he began reading. “Oh, that was beautiful!” Lydia exclaimed when he had finished. “Aye,” Siofre agreed, “though I understood not a word of it.” “Can you translate it for her, Johannes?” Lydia asked. “It is difficult to do as I read, but I will attempt it,” Johannes said with a nod. “Restless Love,” he read the title, then continued, pausing occasionally as he struggled to find an apt English word or phrase. Into the snow, into the rain, Against the wind, In the vapours of the clefts, Through misty fogs, Onward! Onward! Without rest and without peace. Rather through troubles Would I struggle Than to bear So many joys of life. All the inclination Of one heart to another, Oh how strangely This causes pain! How shall I flee? Into the woods? All is for naught! Crown of life, Happiness without peace, Love, that is you!
“I apologise that it is a rough translation,” Johannes said. “It is no longer poetry, I fear. I do violence to Goethe.” “ Keineswegs,” Lydia contradicted him. “It was lovely.” “Rather melodramatic,” Siofre said, “though I liked the first part with the foggy vapours.” “Let me choose another,” Lydia said, taking the book back. “Here, this one. Try this one by Hebbel, ‘ Ich und Du,’ ‘I and Thou,’ first in German, then in English for Siofre. It is a short one.” Johannes dutifully read it in German and then read it again, translating it into English as he went. We dreamed of one another, And from the dream awakened, We live to love each other, And sink back into the night.
You stepped from my dream, And I stepped out of yours, We die when one of us Becomes utterly lost in the other. On a lily tremble Two drops, pure and round, Flowing into one and rolling Downward to the bottom of the flower’s chalice.
Johannes shrugged and handed the book to Lydia. “Oh, thank you, Johannes! Could you read just another few?” she begged. Johannes nodded and took the book back. This time, he chose a few short poems about nature and the seasons, and these seemed both easier to translate and more to Siofre’s liking. After he had read “ Mondnacht,” “Moonlit Night,” by von Eichendorff, Siofre, knowing that Johannes would continue reading to please them until he grew hoarse, took the book from him and gave it back to Lydia. “That is enough for one night, I believe. We do not disturb the magister’s evening by taxing him with this,” she said. She turned and smiled at Johannes. “It was, however, lovely to listen to, and German is a more beautiful language than I had thought it would sound. Thank you for reading to us and for translating for me.” “Yes, thank you, Johannes,” Lydia said. “I really enjoyed that.” “It was my pleasure. It is never a bad thing to end an evening with some poetry.” “Or music,” Siofre said. “Lydia, play us your new piece again, would you?” Lydia hopped up happily and opened the large doors between the sitting room and the music room. “I had an idea for adding a part for violin, too,” she said as she opened the piano. “As I was up in the hall labelling the furniture to be moved to the cottage, it came to me. I think Morgan would enjoy that.” “Aye, indeed he would,” Siofre replied, adding to Johannes, “He plays violin—fiddle, as he calls it—and usually plays traditional pieces, folk music, you might say, but he is quite a good musician, and oft he and Lydia would play together on a Sunday afternoon, before the childer arrived. Now that they live here, he might be able to do that again.” “That would please Lydia, no doubt.” Siofre nodded, but didn’t reply as Lydia set out her music and sat down at the piano. After Lydia had played her piece, she took out some other sheet music and continued with some Liszt. Watching her through the open double doors, Johannes smiled. “She is beautiful when she plays,” he said softly. “She is absorbed—is that the word?” Siofre smiled and nodded. “Aye. And ’tis true. She seems to glow . . .” Lydia played for another half hour, then finally, after she slipped on a few notes, she folded down the keyboard and put the music away. “I am getting tired,” she said, coming into the sitting room. “It has been a long day. I think I’m going up to bed.” “The composition for Bertrand and Sally is really turning out well,” Siofre said as Lydia stepped near. “I’m sure they will enjoy it and appreciate it. I think that your happiness with their homecoming shines through the music. I’m pleased you began composing again.” Lydia bent and gave her sister-in-law a kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you like it. And you’re right, I am very happy my boy and Sally will be coming home, but we should also thank Johannes for encouraging me.” She turned to Johannes. “It gave me that last bit of a nudge and the confidence to pick up my quill again.” She smiled down at him, patting his shoulder. “Thank you, Johannes.” Johannes nodded, and was about to reply when Lydia surprised him by bending and kissing his cheek, too. “You are as good a wizard as they come,” Lydia said. “I am so glad that you have come into our lives.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Good night, Johannes. Good night, Siofre.” After Lydia left the room, Johannes picked up his book again. “She is a sweet woman. That was kind of her.” “She is kind,” Siofre agreed. “A very warm and gentle person.” She picked up her book, too. “And somewhat sentimental. But she is right,” she added briskly, “it is good that you came into our lives.” “I am the one who is blessed,” Johannes whispered. He tentatively reached out to touch Siofre’s hand. “Very blessed to have met you and had this opportunity to come to know you.” Siofre turned her head slightly to look at him. She nodded. “I am glad you feel that way, Honnie.” Johannes wished to say more, but he did not know what. He took in a breath as he stood. “I believe I will retire presently, myself. Good night, Siofre.” He bent and lifted her hand to his lips, but rather than merely bowing to her in his usual manner, he kissed her hand gently, then kissed it again, lingering, his eyes closed, his lips slowly cherishing her skin. Then he straightened quickly, released her hand, and nodded. “Good night.” As he went out the door, Siofre said, “Good night, Honnie. Sleep well.” She sat there a long time, her book unopened on her lap, the fire slowly dying in the fireplace, until finally she rose, extinguished the lamps, and closed the flue. The clock on the mantle chimed midnight as she left the room, closing the doors behind her. ~*~*~*~ Author’s Note: The translations (which are my own) are intentionally left rough, and I have no doubt that there are many far better translations of the poems available, but these are intended to reflect the fact that Johannes is translating as he reads, so I did not polish them up. The originals are likely available somewhere on the Web, as well as some good translations, if you would care to read them.
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Hogwarts Duo
First Year
Does it get any better than ADMM?
Posts: 53
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Post by Hogwarts Duo on Oct 1, 2010 12:56:11 GMT -5
OOPS! I should really pay more attention to the board and when you're updating this wonderful story. I can't believe I didn't review the chapter before this last one. Sorry about that!
I am loving the way Johannes and Siofre's relationship is blossoming, slowly. It's hard to want them together but at the same time enjoying the journey they're on in a slow discovery of their feelings. But, leave it all to Lydia. She's a little matchmaker, that one. haha.
I hope to see some Johannes/Siofre fluff soon, though!!!!!
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Post by MMADfan on Oct 17, 2010 11:11:59 GMT -5
Here's the next chapter for you! Thanks for the review, Ang! In this chapter, Lydia frets while Siofre makes her own private plans to bring Johannes closer. Chapter Eighteen: Not Untouched Siofre returned home late on Wednesday evening, barely in time to join Lydia and Johannes for supper, which they were eating in the morning room, since it had seemed that Siofre would not return until late. “I’m glad you’re back, Siofre,” Lydia said as soon as Siofre sat down. “Johannes has been fretting about your lengthy absence.” “Lydia exaggerates to a degree,” Johannes said. “I simply noted that you were not yet come home and it is past seven, almost seven-thirty. I—that is to say, we—believed you would be back well before now. Terwilliger’s work day must have ended hours ago.” Siofre’s plate and silverware appeared on the table in front of her, and she helped herself to some fresh green salad, sliced cheese, cold roast beef, and mixed pickle and other condiments. Lydia passed her the bread basket and Johannes poured her a glass of cider. “After I had finished following young Cadoc—and saw that although he did go into a pub on his way home, he only drank one ale, despite the urging of his mates at the bar—I had an errand of my own to do.” “There is vegetable soup,” Johannes said. “We’ve eaten ours, but you should have some.” “Nay, I had a pasty after I left Cadoc,” Siofre said. “This is more than sufficient.” “Do you know better what his difficulties may be?” Johannes asked. “Aye. Somewhat.” Siofre buttered a thick slice of bread and bit into it. “What are they?” Lydia asked. Siofre used her knife and fork to cut her roast beef, then she dipped it into some dark mustard. “He dislikes his boss—who sounds like an unreasonable man obsessed with minutia to such a degree that Cadoc is unable to accomplish anything—he is frightened of having the responsibility of fatherhood, and he’s in debt to someone, a gambling debt, I believe, from what little I was able to overhear.” “Can you help him at all with any of that?” Johannes asked. “It seems that those are things beyond your control.” “P’raps,” Siofre said. She quirked a small lopsided smile. “P’raps not. There may be influences I can exert, at least in a small way.” “What were your other errands?” Lydia asked curiously. Siofre shook her head. “Nothing important. How were your days, you two?” “I went into London and found some very charming fabric for the draperies and upholstery for the cottage, then I stopped by the Ministry and Philomena was able to get away and have lunch, then this afternoon I spent down at the cottage supervising the elves in preparing all the surfaces for new paint and varnishes and things.” “Very industrious, Lydia!” Siofre said approvingly. “I appreciate all your help with this, and I know that Minerva will, as well.” “I hope she likes it,” Lydia said. “I do not believe that she could fail to like it,” Johannes said. “And you, Johannes? Your day went well?” “I also was productive, I believe. I checked the bere field, as I said I might, and it looks fine. I refreshed the avian ward, however. It seemed to me a little weakened. Then I spent much time working on the other gardens and completing more work on the area around the bonfire pit. Tomorrow morning, I must deliver some vegetables—radishes, lettuce, herbs, and the like—to the Three Broomsticks, so I will be out early.” Siofre nodded. “Very good. I have a meeting in the afternoon tomorrow, but I will be here most of the day if either of you needs me.” “Where is your meeting?” Lydia asked. “Here?” “Nay. They’ve not been here before, and I had no wish to invite them and arrange Portkeys. ’Tis in the neighbourhood of Manchester.” “How are you getting there?” “Apparating to Glasgow and Flooing from there,” Siofre replied. “What is the meeting about?” Johannes asked. “A problem someone’s having with the Ministry. ’Tisn’t a major thing, in itself, but one of his neighbours is stirring things up.” “How so?” Lydia asked. Siofre chewed and swallowed. “Usual thing—the neighbour has nothing better to do with his time than to stick his nose in and create a flap where there’s no problem. My client—potential client—keeps a few Aethonans and several Granians. He has them in a well-warded area protected from Muggles. They simply canna be seen by Muggles—or even by witches or wizards unless they actually go onto the man’s land and trespass—but he is not complying with the letter of the law by casting Disillusionment Charms on each individual horse. He has a large field in which they roam when they’re not in their stable, he likes to ride them—and whenever he rides them within possible view of Muggles, he does cast Disillusionment Charms on both himself and the horse—and Disillusioning them regularly is both impractical and unnecessary. Nonetheless, the neighbour reported him to the Ministry, and he’s up for a hefty fine and possibly even time in Azkaban, since there are so many of the beasts.” “So are you going to help him?” Johannes asked. “If the facts turn out to be as they were stated to me and there’s not some unknown problem, aye, I’ll represent the man in front of the Wizengamot. He is complying with the spirit of the law, after all. I think I can even find an argument that he is also complying with the letter of the law if the law is read in a particular way.” “This isn’t the sort of case you normally take on,” Lydia observed. “True, and ’tis hardly a matter of life or death, but it bothers me when folk mix in where they’ve no business and cause people such aggravation and worry—and potential harm. I also think that the MLE should have exercised more discretion and common sense and never levied charges against the man. The Ministry’s becoming more heavy-handed every year, and not with regard to the things that truly matter, either, in my opinion. At any rate, I meet with the man and his wife tomorrow, and we shall see what I can do to help them.” After supper, Siofre was in her study when Lydia knocked on the open door. “Do you have a minute?” “Of course!” Siofre closed her journal and turned to face Lydia. Lydia came in, closing the door behind her, and sat down in the armchair across from her sister-in-law. “Johannes was quite worried when you weren’t home earlier than you were. I had to convince him that it was acceptable to sit down and eat without you.” “Of course. There are times when I am not here at dinnertime at all,” Siofre said. “I do not expect everyone to starve in my absence.” “He is very concerned about your well-being,” Lydia said. “Reassure him, then, that I did not reach this age by being incapable of taking care of myself. Heavens, Lydia!” Siofre shook her head. “Perhaps you could let us know if you think you’ll be gone longer—” “Lydia, I have always let you know when I thought I might be away overnight, and you know well enough to begin eating the evening meal without me an I’m not here. You know I canna always predict how long something like this will take, and you knew that this was an all-day job, not just a brief meeting. I was hardly missing!” “I know, but Johannes is unused to your sometimes erratic schedule.” “Lydia, hen, he is our gardener, not my guardian. If he worries, he must do so quietly and not have any expectations that they will be allayed, or else learn not to worry. It is not my concern.” “I don’t know how you can say that! Johannes is more than our gardener.” “Aye, of course, of course. He has become a friend, and he is managing the grounds and certain aspects of the estate admirably, as well. The magister has become an invaluable employee, not to mention a vital part of our household. None of that changes the fact that if he worries, it is his own affair.” Lydia was quiet a moment. “I would have thought you would be more concerned about his feelings.” “I am not going to change my practices for him. He will either have to become used to my habits or become used to being irrationally concerned.” Lydia shook her head. “I know you are fond of Johannes. You cannot possibly be as insensitive to his feelings as you say.” “Of course not. But you reassured him. That should be sufficient for you—that and my safe return home for supper.” “But Siofre—” “I am not discussing this subject any longer, Lydia. And if you plan to broach my own feelings for the man, do not. I have also said all I am going to on that subject.” “He cares about you.” Siofre sighed. “I know that, hen,” she said softly. “And I am not untouched. You must know that. But . . . truly, there was no reason for him to worry, and as for any of his other . . . feelings . . . I simply do not wish to discuss them. I canna change my life for this.” Lydia nodded. “Very well, Siofre, but I think you are making a mistake.” “You and I are very different, and I do not believe that I am making a mistake. Prudence will pay off in one way or another, and I do know my own mind even an I do not always share its contents with you.” “All right. Do you want to pop down to the cottage tomorrow morning and see what progress we’ve made?” “Aye, that would be good. That reminds me that I also need to take the time to add Johannes to the wards so that he may Apparate freely on the grounds. The man has been walking almost everywhere.” “You are adding him to the full family wards?” Lydia asked. “Aye. Not just to the general wards, such as for workmen—those would be insufficient to his needs, given the location of the bere field, anyway—nor only the modified wards. Admitted to the family wards, he will be able to Apparate directly into the house, as well. You see, Lydia, I do consider the man and his needs.” “When was the last time you added someone to the family wards who wasn’t actually a part of it, at least by marriage?” “Never. There hasn’t been a need. But back when they were here, the Mackenzies all always had the complete freedom of the estate, too.” “But they were related in some distant way— and they lived here.” “So does the magister, even an it be for just a time.” “Still . . .” “Do not go on about it,” Siofre said briskly, avoiding further discussion of the family wards and their rituals. “Was there anything else? I was almost finished with my notes for the day.” “Will you join me downstairs after, then?” “I thought I’d relax in my sitting room this evening and read until bedtime. You’re welcome to join me, if you wish, though, hen.” Lydia shook her head. “I want to work on the violin part for my composition. I didn’t have time during the day.” “I look forward to seeing the cottage tomorrow and all you’ve accomplished with it.” “Good night, Siofre. Sleep well.” Lydia bent and kissed Siofre’s cheek. “Sweet dreams.” “Aye, and you, hen.”
The next morning, Johannes left early with a large crate of produce for the Three Broomsticks, and Siofre and Lydia Apparated to the cottage. Siofre was impressed by the progress. “It is looking very nice, Lydia, quite fine, indeed,” she said in approval. “I had the house-elves begin with the decorating, but they’re leaving the bathrooms and kitchen until after the plumbing is finished.” “It is amazing how much better, how much lighter everything seems already.” “You know, I was thinking of leaving some of the woodwork bare, just varnish it or something. When the old paint came off, I thought the wood itself looked quite beautiful, and I think it would be in keeping with the rest of the cottage.” “I think that’s fine,” Siofre replied. “That shade of teal green does look nice in the dining room. It will look well with the dark mahogany furniture we selected for the room.” “I’m looking forward to having the decorating finished so that we can move the furniture down.” “We’ll need to move the furniture from the hall before the bonfire night, anyway, in case Murdoch’s party needs to be indoors.” “You should have Maisie do a forecast,” Lydia suggested. “It’s only a little more than a week now; she should be able to be fairly accurate. She might even be able to perform some localised countermeasures if the weather does not appear ideal.” “I will do that,” Siofre said. “She does enjoy doing a little weather magic now and again, and the McKenna place is a bit too small for doing much that wouldn’t be noticed by Muggles.” “What did you do after you were finished following Terwilliger yesterday?” Lydia asked as they went up to the first floor to look at the bedrooms. “I visited Tiree. I went to see Bridie.” “About those two young people?” Siofre shook her head. “A personal matter.” “Johannes?” “It was a personal matter,” Siofre said, “though it did touch on him.” “What did she say? Did she tell you to steer clear of him?” Lydia asked with a frown. Perhaps that explained Siofre’s mood the evening before. “Nay, no such thing. It is far more complex than that, you know that. And ’twas more about myself.” “I am sorry that I’m not a better help to you, Siofre,” Lydia said with a sigh. “Ach, hen! You are! In so very many ways.” Siofre reached out and rubbed Lydia’s upper arm. “And I always consider any advice you give me, you know. It is just sometimes good to speak with someone outside a situation, and Bridie’s been giving me advice since I was first a young married witch.” “She must have been young then, too.” “Aye, by comparison, of course. But her daughter, Maire, is still older than I am by a few years. Bridie is beginning to show her age, though. ’Tis sad to see, this aging and fading . . .” Siofre let out a sigh. “You have been working too hard, you know, Siofre. I think you need to give yourself a holiday. Deal with that fellow and his flying horses, but don’t take on anything else new for a while. You’ll be busy enough here, I’m sure.” “The income—” “You need to take some time for yourself,” Lydia continued. “And Johannes is bringing in a few Galleons with his produce, and that will increase as summer comes in, I’m sure, especially with the large field he planted over the other side of the ridge. And with Morgan and Fiona here now and contributing to the general upkeep, you have less to worry about. There’s always the reserve account, too. You can borrow from that and pay it back if need be. But you need a holiday.” Siofre nodded. “I may take a week or two,” she agreed. “I usually take time in July to go to Tiree, but perhaps I’ll do that in May this year. Or both. We shall see.” “Or you could spend the time here. There’s so much to be done here, you know. You’d not fail to be busy when you like, or just relax when you prefer that. Enjoy your home. Take a ramble every day, do some hill walking. You could take the opportunity to get a new puppy to replace old Jagger—not that Jagger is replaceable, of course, but it’s been since November that he’s been gone—and you could take the time to train him. Then you’d have a companion for your hill walking again—or bring Johannes along with you. He seems to love these hills, too. You could show him all your favourites. But you needn’t spend your holiday away.” “P’raps. Aye. We shall see.” She pulled out her watch from around her neck and looked at it. “Johannes should be returned by now. I will go add him to the wards and get that done before lunch.” “Have you told him?” Lydia asked. “I mentioned that I would add him to the family wards. He attempted to demur, but it is appropriate.” “The full family wards? Not the modified ones?” “Aye. As I said I would. I shall join him to the clan first, then add him to the wards.” “Did you explain how ancient the wards are?” “You mean the ritual, the oaths, and the blood-let binding him to land and family?” Siofre shook her head. “I doubt it will be a surprise to him, however. He is a Ravenclaw, after all, and hardly a child.” “Be sure you say something before you take out that copper knife, though, Sister. He may appear unflappable, but it is his manner. That may come as a shock, whether he lets on or not.” Siofre cackled. “Dinna worry about that, hen! I shan’t be chasin’ the dear lad about the grounds with dagger in hand!” Still laughing at the picture that evoked in her mind, Siofre Disapparated for the main house.
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Post by MMADfan on Oct 19, 2010 22:07:54 GMT -5
Chapter Nineteen: Clearing the Path Siofre climbed the stairs to the first floor, then took a dark hallway to the North Tower. She flicked her wand to open the door to the large room that encompassed the whole of the tower on that level. Sunlight filtered weakly through several narrow windows. After using her wand to draw back the heavy curtains that covered the tower room’s one large leaded-glass window, Siofre looked around her. It had been more than a year since she had been in the treasure room, as she had called it as a child. The room contained various artifacts from Tyrees past, everything from Charmed armour—some of which was pitted or dented from use—to finely wrought metal chalices, to plain black cauldrons of various sizes. Much of it was on display, either on the room’s many shelves or hanging from the walls and the high ceiling. Siofre stepped over to a glass case, flicking her wand to remove the light coating of dust that covered it. Generations of wands lay arrayed in the case, each with a small card, Charmed to expand on command and reveal the details of its particular wand—who had made it, who had wielded it, what its composition was, and any idiosyncrasies of the wand or other facts of interest about it and the witch or wizard who had used it during their lifetime. She had laid Herbert McKenna’s Ollivander-made elm wand there with the others, though he was not related to the Tyrees, except through marriage. She had never even performed the clan ritual with him that she was now setting about performing with Johannes. But he had fathered a Tyree witch, and he had been a good and faithful husband to her, and when he died, she had mourned him. Stepping past a rack containing several long staffs, Siofre went to a cupboard, muttered a word, and caught a hidden drawer that popped from it. There was little in the drawer, and nothing that appeared valuable, but Siofre pulled out a long, narrow knife and drew it from its plain leather sheath. Its blade was copper, and its handle, horn. Intricate designs were carved upon the handle; the unusual blade, showing no signs of oxidation, seemed to glitter from within. One curved edge was sharp from tip to shaft, and, peculiarly, the other edge was straight and sharp from the tip to about a third a way up the blade. Siofre slipped the knife back in its sheath and put it in her deep pocket. She would explain everything to Johannes, of course—she had planned to without Lydia’s prompting. And she would give him a choice, as well. Despite what she’d said to Lydia, admitting Johannes to the modified family wards would be sufficient to enable him to pop around the estate, carrying out his duties or even just enjoying the grounds, but she wished to offer him the opportunity to be bound to the clan. It wasn’t just his choice that Siofre was interested in, but in his reactions. Despite their relatively short acquaintance, Siofre trusted the wizard, trusted him deeply, or she would never have considered the clan rites. Indeed, she had never considered bringing anyone into the Tyree clan before then. In the last few decades, she had performed the ritual several times at the request of others, usually upon an engagement or marriage, and once for an adoption, but never for someone whom she herself had chosen to bring into the clan. When she had married Collum McGonagall all those many decades before, Bridie’s mother, Moira Tyree, had brought him into the clan, but Siofre had not thought of it when she had married Herbert, and there had never been any necessity for it, either. If he had ever known of the clan rites, Herbert had never himself expressed interest in them. Despite her trust in him, Siofre was still interested in Johannes’s reaction to the suggestion—and was curious whether he would recognise the unusual nature of her offer. She did not know anything of German wizarding traditions and whether they had any concepts akin to the Tyree sense of clan. It could be a meaningless gesture to offer the young wizard. Siofre hoped it was not. Although she was of an age and stature within the Tyree clan to admit anyone to the clan on her own authority and without seeking approval from anyone else, she had wanted to discuss it with Bridie. In addition to gaining her blessing, Siofre had also wanted Bridie’s perspective on her relationship with Johannes and her feelings for him. Bridie had offered what opinion she could, but as she stated herself, she had never met the German wizard, and so could only remark upon Siofre’s own feelings. “A German, too, Siofre!” Bridie had said with a twinkle before she’d left. “I never thought I’d see you with a foreigner.” Siofre had chuckled good-naturedly. “He is foreign, aye, but somehow he is not, not to me. He is . . . at home with me. Or so I would like to believe.” “I look forward to meeting the man, then, if he is such a one as can command Siofre Tyree’s heart.” “He commands his own heart,” Siofre corrected her, “or so I hope.” Bridie shook her head. “A young wizard, a foreign wizard, and a stranger to you until recently . . . I do believe that he must be a remarkable man.” “Aye, that he is indeed.” “Then invite him to be joined to the clan, child, and if he does accept . . . he will be that much closer if you decide to let him further into your life and your heart.” “And you do not see it as . . . too much?” “An it were, you would never have thought it,” Bridie said. “I mean also for him,” Siofre clarified. “P’rhaps . . . perhaps I draw him in too closely. I want him to have his freedom.” “Aye. You want him to come to you freely,” Bridie replied. “I know that well. And there must be choices for him in order for you to see that he comes freely. But you may clear a path for him without driving him down it—or even enticing him to follow it. Clear the path even an you allow him his choices.” Siofre nodded. “Lydia thinks it’s appalling that I would think to introduce him to other witches whom he may find . . . appropriate and attractive.” “As long as you see them as choices he might happen upon, not as temptations you are placing in his path. And do not push him toward anyone else, either,” Bridie cautioned. “Aye. I have no desire to push him toward any other.” “Then don’t forget the most important thing you must do,” Bridie said. “What is that?” “Love him.” Siofre’s eyebrows rose. “Love him—I see that you do love him already, though you haven’t used that word—and show him it in your actions, quietly, slowly, without any excesses. Be your ain self, Siofre hen. You dinna wish to push yourself at him or to pull him towards you, I see that, but you can still draw the man with your love. It is honest to do that, even with reserve, even whilst allowing him other choices.” “Aye. And I had already thought . . . if I give him the time and he still seems . . . inclined toward me, I would allow him to pursue me.” Bridie laughed. “An’ you would then ensnare him as only a Tyree witch can, I am sure!” “Ach, Bridie, to you, I may still seem young, but I’m not. I’m well beyond all that. I haven’t got the Tyree allure I once may have had.” Bridie shook her head, her eyes sparkling. “Try convincing yourself of that afore you try convincing another, Siofre!” she said, laughing. “If the man is ‘inclined’ toward you already, as you put it, then you do still have it—at least as far as he is concerned, and that’s all that matters! And if you fell in love with him, you’ve already exercised some of that ‘allure,’ I’m sure. Now, I’m sure that Maire, Hamish, young Bridie, and Corrigan are waiting supper for me. You go on home to yours!” Siofre smirked, thinking back on it. She supposed she did still have it, at least with Johannes, and as Bridie had said, that was all that mattered. She had walked from Bridie’s small cottage along the narrow lane that led to the inlet where her cousins Loran Tyree and Telor Mackenzie were standing beside their spread fishing nets, renewing the charms on them. Loran, still a young man of less than fifty, enjoyed casting the charms with great flourish and deliberately enhancing their glowing colours as they settled on the strong rope nets. Tell, by contrast, merely jabbed lightly and flicked slightly, using great economy of motion and magic, and yet Siofre could feel that the older wizard’s spells took as strongly as Loran’s, if not more so. But both men were smiling and exchanging a few words as they performed the routine task. “ Oidche mhath!” Tell greeted her as she approached. “Aye, aye, Siofre!” Loran slipped his wand into its sheath beside his sporran and bounded toward her. “Give a hug here, cousin!” “You smell of fish, Loran lad,” Siofre said, shaking her head, but she placed both hands on the young man’s upper arms and tolerated his brief embrace and his whiskery kiss on her cheek. Tell took off his cap and resettled it on his grey head, his round cheeks glowing healthy pink as he grinned at her. “Come to help with the mending and weaving, sister?” “Aye, an’ next I’ll be needing to teach Bridie t’ suck eggs,” Siofre said with a twinkle in her eye. “Ye lads are having it well in hand!” “It’s that time, though,” Loran said, “or getting near it! I’m sair drouthy after the hard day workin’ with this man and his long stories. Take a wee drink with us, Siofre, do!” “Aye, Siofre! The lad is right. ’Tis time for a wee nip. Settle yourself here and join us.” “I’m off for home and my supper,” Siofre said. “Ach, sister, those house-elves, they’re havin’ you spoiled, they are! An’ at their beck and call you are, an’ not even knowin’ it!” Tell exclaimed. “So stop and have a bit of refreshment with us,” Loran said as Tell drew a round loaf of bread and a long, green bottle of whisky from his tough leather bag. “Nay, I canna, lads.” “How not, sister?” Tell asked, pulling the cork from the bottle with a hollow pop. “Sure an’ the wee elves will be keepin’ your supper for you, an’ ’tisn’t yet darkenin’.” “Aye, but I’m App’rating, an’ well you know it!” Siofre said, gesturing toward the bottle. “Pish! An’ you, our Siofre, could drink the bottle dry an’ flicker off for home with nary a problem,” Tell said with a dismissive wave of his weathered hand. Siofre hesitated, and Loran sensed it and leapt. “Good on you, Cousin Siofre, to keep two hard-working wizards company for a wee!” He flourished his wand and one of the great rocks became a bench and another, a table. “A seat for you,” he said with a bow. “An’ me?” Tell asked in mock aggravation, hands on his hips. “Ach, pull up yer ain rock and make it a stool for ya,” Loran said, removing his plaid despite the chill in the air, and placing it on the bench he’d created for Siofre. “Aye, a wee one, then,” Siofre said, taking the seat Loran had made for her. “Just a wee dram.” In the treasure room, Siofre smiled, remembering the two wizards and their rivalling stories, and how they had protested when, at after seven, she’d finally risen and told them to find their proper suppers, for she was off for hers. “It’s no meal this one’s after,” Loran said with a nod. “I can see it in her eye!” “Aye, yer right there, lad,” Tell agreed. “Else wise, she’d prefer our company an’ our bottle.” “’Tisn’t Lydia she’s after seeing, either,” Loran opined, “wonderful witch though she be—for English.” “’Tis a man. Another wizard, it is, or I’m not Telor Duncan Mackenzie!” “And what wizard could be better company than we two here on Tiree, with our whisky, our bread, and our tales of bravery on the wild witchy seas?” “Must be a remarkable man, t’ draw our Siofre away from our board,” Tell said, “for we’re the finest of the finest Tiree has, and Tiree wizards are the finest t’ be found!” Siofre just shook her head and smiled, not addressing their remarks, though she did think of the remarkable man who was no doubt already sitting down to supper with Lydia. “I have my own home, lads, an’ off for it I am, and for my supper! Just as ye should be off for yers an’ yer witches.” “Aye, as you say, Siofre,” Loran said with a warm smile. “Visit again soon!” “Ye be both coming to the Beltane fire and the grandson’s birthday, aren’t ye?” “Aye, sister,” Tell said. “Indeed we will, an’ we’ll be roarin’! Lydia will have good beds for us, I hope.” Siofre barked a laugh. “Aye, she will! We’ve no desire to repair a wizard Splinched from drink too much taken!” “But you could, Siofre, you could, even in yer sleep,” Tell said, “an’ yer wand in yer pocket! We’d put oursel’ in yer care with not a bit o’ swither ’bout it!” Laughing, Siofre bade them goodbye, and with their answering well wishes still in her ears, she Disapparated from Tiree Beag for the Tyree estate. Lydia would never have approved of Siofre having a drink before Apparating home—across water, at that—so Siofre had honestly mentioned only the pasty she’d eaten earlier and not the whisky and barley bread she’d shared with her cousins. Lydia had an unnatural, though common, phobia about Apparating over water, after all. No point in worrying her without cause. Siofre hesitated before closing the hidden drawer, then she swept her fingers through it, until in the back, she found what she was looking for. She laid the two rings on her palm. They tingled against her skin. She stared at them a moment, then made a move to replace them in the drawer, but then she put them in her pocket instead, where they nestled together. Not for Johannes yet, but if he continued in his concern for her . . . then perhaps. Perhaps then. The rings hadn’t been used in many decades, near a century, at least, but Siofre could feel that their communicating and drawing charms were still strong as they ever were. Such Charmed trinkets might ease Honnie’s worry for her when she was away. But not yet. Not yet, even for a remarkable man. Especially for a remarkable man. Siofre closed the drawer, flicked her wand and drew the draperies closed, and left the tower room to find Johannes and invite him to join the Tyree clan, clearing a path before him. Author’s Note: I posted this one a bit early, hoping to recompense for the long wait for the previous chapter! The next chapter is “Of the Clan Tyree,” with Siofre and Johannes.
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Hogwarts Duo
First Year
Does it get any better than ADMM?
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Post by Hogwarts Duo on Oct 21, 2010 13:40:04 GMT -5
Two chapters to read together = TWICE THE FUN!!!
Still, that's no excuse for neglecting to leave a review for the first one. OOPS!!!
I was a bit concerned about Siofre and Johannes when Siofre and Lydia were talking about Siofre's feelings and Johannes concerns. She (Siofre) came across a bit cold and uncaring where the gardener was concerned. However, now that I've read the other chapter and seen what she learned from Bridid, I can relax. WHEW!!!
I absolutely loooove this last chapter. It was very insightful and interesting and I enjoyed the conversations immensely between Siofre, Bridie, and Siofre's cousins. tee hee. That cracked me up!!!
Thanks for writing the story and updating so regularly!!
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Post by MMADfan on Oct 22, 2010 20:16:46 GMT -5
Two chapters to read together = TWICE THE FUN!!! Still, that's no excuse for neglecting to leave a review for the first one. OOPS!!! I was a bit concerned about Siofre and Johannes when Siofre and Lydia were talking about Siofre's feelings and Johannes concerns. She (Siofre) came across a bit cold and uncaring where the gardener was concerned. However, now that I've read the other chapter and seen what she learned from Bridid, I can relax. WHEW!!! I absolutely loooove this last chapter. It was very insightful and interesting and I enjoyed the conversations immensely between Siofre, Bridie, and Siofre's cousins. tee hee. That cracked me up!!! Thanks for writing the story and updating so regularly!! You have to remember that in that chapter, she was talking to Lydia, so we saw what she was doing with her -- that she wanted to put her off and tell her to keep off the topic of Johannes -- not necessarily what she is feeling about Johannes. Glad you enjoyed Siofre's visit to Tiree, and the glimpse of another side of her life. ;D Next chapter up in a bit -- minutes, actually! Thanks for reviewing!
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Post by MMADfan on Oct 22, 2010 20:22:06 GMT -5
Chapter Twenty: Of the Clan Tyree“So you understand,” Siofre said questioningly, “I can admit you to the wards easily with no great ado. With a mere pinprick to your finger, I’d bind you to the land, add you to the wards, and free you’d be to Apparate anywhere within these grounds once you are already anywhere on the estate, with no other measures necessary. But if I join you to the clan first, I may then admit you to the full family wards, and you could Apparate to whatever point you wish that is encompassed by this estate, from wherever you are, whether on or off the property, and you might likewise Apparate into or out of any of the dwellings or outbuildings on the estate, unless there is a separate Anti-Apparition ward in place. Do you wish to join the Clan Tyree, Magister?” Johannes was silent for a moment, then he looked off over the grounds, taking in the vista before him. Siofre had Apparated him to the highest hill on the estate, where the remains of an ancient tower stood behind them. From that point, he could see the whole of the estate, all but what disappeared in the low, misty cloud to the far northeast, and if he turned his eyes to the west and the south, he could see the machairs and the field of bere he had planted, and beyond that, the coast and the sea. He looked again toward the large house not much below them, the stone castle with its towers and turrets, which had become his home over the past several weeks. He shook his head slightly, and Siofre thought for a moment that he would refuse the offer or had not understood it, but he turned to face her fully, looking down into her eyes, his lips parted as he considered her. “To join the clan . . . That is a most great honour you offer, Madam Tyree,” he said softly. “I have heard something of this clan . . . from Minerva, from Malcolm, from others. The only solely wizarding Scottish clan, with a long history, strong roots, and many secrets, the clan whose witches are foremost.” He reached out with one hand, and Siofre gave him hers. He bowed over it slowly, not perfunctorily. Straightening, he said, “Aye, I will join your clan, Madam Tyree, even though I do not completely understand it.” “Have you questions about the ritual?” “It is like an adoption, yes?” “A bit, but you belong to the clan, and the clan to you, not to a single family, and your loyalty to the clan and its many members is very important, though not paramount to your own conscience. If a Tyree—whether they bear that name or no—comes to you for assistance, you give it, unless the assistance requested goes against your conscience.” Johannes nodded. “I can do that.” “And it is unlike a usual adoption in that you do not have a mother, or a father, and you are not a . . . you are not a dependant, you understand, nor an heir to property, only to tradition.” Johannes smiled. “I am not a child for many years, Siofre.” Siofre chuckled. “You could still be adopted as a son and heir within a family, but you are not in this ritual. The clan and the family adoptions are usually performed as separate rites.” Johannes hesitated, looking uncomfortable. “What is it?” Siofre asked. “You do not wish to adopt me . . .” It was not quite a question. Siofre blinked. “Nay.” She shook her head. Johannes breathed a sigh and relaxed. “Good. I would not wish to offend you by declining.” “You will be family in a sense, of course, and you will be closer to me than to any other, as I am the one to invite you, as well as the one to perform the ritual.” Johannes nodded. “That is good.” It was Siofre’s turn to relax. “Aye. Any other questions?” “Legally, within British wizarding law, what is the . . . the status of this ritual?” Siofre quirked a crooked grin. “It is not sanctioned, not within British borders, as it is a blood ritual that does not fall within their narrowly proscribed list of legal blood magic. The clan joining, however, does have legal status, as contradictory as that may seem. If ever you are fleeing from the British wizarding authorities—though I canna imagine such a day—you have a right to seek refuge on the isle of Tiriodh Beag; that right is respected by the British Ministry and your clan membership is recognised. This is a centuries’ old practice, and only once did any British minister or English wizarding chief attempt to violate that right. I will not alarm you with the details of their fates, but the English authorities did not succeed, and our power has not diminished with the years. When you are on Tiree, you are always safe from the English—or from anyone else. You may also legally add ‘Tyree’ just before your own family name and sign it that way in official documents, if you wish, or add ‘of Tyree’ after it. There are a few additional small details—some to do with the Muggle world—but I don’t think any of them are pertinent at the moment.” “But if I commit a crime—and I would not—but if I committed one, should not the conscience of the Tyrees upon the island lead them to surrender me to the British Ministry?” Johannes asked, puzzled. Siofre laughed. “Nay. Conscience might require them to try you themselves, if they believed the charges had merit, and to mete out their own justice, but not to surrender you.” “I see . . . and are there . . . I do not know how to ask this . . . are there obligations I have? Laws of the island, or of the Tyree clan?” “No laws but those natural to us. Do not steal from another member of the clan, do not injure another unless in defence of self or other, do not murder another human, whether magic or Muggle. Defer to the judgment of the Tyree witches’ comhairle—the witches’ council—over that of any other wizarding council, gamot, or ministry. There were once more laws of obedience to the clan grandmothers, but they have become unnecessary, obsolete,” Siofre said. “Other than that, there are only principles to aspire to. To be upright and to follow your conscience, to respect elders, to first seek Tyree counsel or aid in crisis, and to lend aid to any of the clan who request it, your conscience allowing.” “Do only witches sit on the council of Tiree?” Johannes asked curiously. “There are three councils. The witches’ comhairle, which is the primary council—the highest one, if you wish to put it in those terms—then the wizards’ council of five elders, which deals with wizards’ matters and handles some relations with those outside the clan, generally trade, and then there is a council of twelve that consists of witches and wizards who are chosen from among those who live on Tiree by the inhabitants of the island. They need only have reached thirty years of age, and they deal with minor questions and with . . . social events, you might say. Any member of the general council can bring an issue before the witches’ comhairle for deciding, and the question must be addressed by the comhairle. They canna dismiss it from consideration as they might something brought them from some other clan member without that standing.” “Does not my clan membership require some approval by a council, then?” Johannes asked. “Nay. I have authority to join you without any approval from any other. It is not lightly done, Honnie,” she added. “You are on this, um, witches’ corya?” Johannes asked, struggling to pronounce the Gaelic. Siofre suppressed her smile. “Aye, I am on the council. Third witch of nine.” “How are they selected?” Siofre hesitated. “It is a witches’ knowledge and witches’ magic, what you ask about, you understand, but it is partly upon basis of age and experience. Beyond that . . .” Siofre shook her head. Johannes nodded. “I understand.” “And so you are still willing to become a member of the Tyree clan?” “Yes. Aye. As long as it does not require me to learn Scottish.” Siofre laughed at that. “Nay, no such thing! There are even some members born to the clan who do not speak it these days—Connor does not, no more than a few words, and Bertrand’s Gaelic was never good.” Johannes smiled. “Good then. Do we do this now? Today?” Siofre nodded and drew the sheathed knife from her pocket. “Much of the ritual is in Gaelic, and an ancient dialect—although there are a few sections that I will say in English for you—so you will not understand most of it. But it will bind your blood to the blood of the Clan Tyree through my blood, and your magic to the clan’s magic through mine. There is a place for you to make agreement, an oath of sorts, to bind you willingly. That I will repeat in English for you.” “I am ready. What do you need of me?” “Your left arm bared,” Siofre instructed. “Just to the elbow suffices. You understand this is not a pinprick such as your Hogwarts ritual required when you became Head of Ravenclaw?” Johannes’s brow rose. “You know of that?” Siofre cackled. “Of that little bit of magic, yes. Hogwarts is in Scotland, after all, even an we Tyrees often eschew its education. But you understand that more than a wee drop of your blood will flow?” Johannes nodded. His arm was already bared to the elbow; he had removed his cloak and laid it upon a rock. His jacket had followed it, and then he rolled up his sleeve. He shivered slightly in the cool breeze. Siofre cast a warming charm on the air around him, and he smiled. “You have done this before?” Johannes asked as Siofre drew the Charmed knife from its sheath and replaced the sheath in her robe pocket, putting the bare blade in her belt. “Aye, several times, though I’ve not invited anyone myself before. Or I should say, I have never both performed the ritual and invited someone to join the clan. When I was a young witch, I asked that Collum McGonagall be joined to the clan, and that ritual was performed by Moira Tyree. So this is a bit different from the other rituals I’ve performed, since there are only we two here, and not a third, some other who made the request for the ritual and who would also participate in it, sponsoring you, so to speak.” “I see. And no witness is needed?” “Nay. The magic and the blood provide a testament,” Siofre replied. “Now, hold out your left arm to me. Become aware of the pulse of you magic flowing through your body and through your left hand and arm. You must now trust me, and do not stop me with any question. When you must do anything, I will tell you. You are ready?” Johannes nodded. “Aye. And I trust you. Utterly.” His eyes met hers, and Siofre felt his trust, and more. Siofre quickly bared her own left arm, moving aside her cape to hang down her back and leaving both arms free, then rolling up the sleeve of her robe. She grasped his arm, placing her hand beneath his forearm so that his arm rested across hers, his hand near her elbow. “You may take hold of me if you wish—now or when I use the blade. It may be somewhat uncomfortable—painful, actually—but do try not to flinch, or it will be worse. Remain still and just grip me harder if you need to do so.” Johannes nodded, but grasped her arm only lightly. “One final question for you, Honnie: what is your full name? Have you any middle name?” “Johannes Christian Maria Birnbaum.” “Maria?” Siofre asked, unable to stop herself. “Aye. Unusual here, more common where I am from, and in my mother’s family.” Siofre nodded and drew her wand. “And now to begin. You do agree freely to join the Clan Tyree, joining your magic to the clan’s, your blood to ours, sharing in our strength and sharing your own?” Johannes nodded. “I do, freely.” Siofre began to chant in Gaelic, and Johannes understood none of it, though twice, he did catch the name of Tyree, and once, his own name in full. Siofre waved her wand, moving it in a circle over their arms, and Johannes felt Siofre’s magic flow over his forearm, seeming to wrap it, or encase it, then he felt an unusual sensation of tugging at his own magic, weaving it into the magic around their arms. He didn’t resist, but he was somewhat alarmed by the physical reaction the intertwining of their magic was eliciting in him. The sensations of his magic flowing out and other magic joining it, then Siofre’s magic working its way into his arm to flow through him, created a physical tingling that began in his arm but spread through his body, even into his groin, which interpreted the sensations as sexually arousing. Johannes relaxed and reasoned that this was likely an expected side-effect of the ritual, at least when done between a witch and a wizard. He only hoped that the arousal would remain mild enough so that he wouldn’t get a full erection—that might be noticeable and rather embarrassing. Siofre seemed wholly focussed on the spells she was casting, however, and her gaze was on their arms, now joined by a glowing shell of magic. When the glow spread gossamer threads of light from their arms toward their bodies, Siofre pocketed her wand and drew out the long copper knife. She said a few more incomprehensible words, then, using the point of the sharp Charmed blade, she drew a long incision up her own inner arm, from wrist to elbow. The cut didn’t graze any large veins, and her blood flowed gently from the incision, running over her arm and dripping onto the stony ground. She wiped the long, curved edge of the Charmed blade through her blood, then she raised her eyes to meet Johannes’s. He nodded, and she asked him a question in Gaelic, repeating it in English: “Do you, Johannes Christian Maria Birnbaum, join your blood freely with mine and with the blood of my kin, to be joined forever with our clan and to show your loyalty first to the Clan Tyree, but for the dictates of your conscience?” “Aye, I join freely the Clan Tyree.” “And with your blood, your magic, also?” Johannes nodded. His blood and his magic, joined to the clan and to Siofre, he thought. His first loyalty would always be to her, and then to her clan, for such were the dictates of his conscience. “Aye, my blood and my magic together.” Siofre smiled slightly and nodded. With one word, and tightening the grip of her left hand on his arm, she used the long, curved, bloodied blade to slice into the soft skin of his inner forearm. The long incision bled freely, but other than a slight initial burning sensation, Johannes found it surprisingly unpainful, and he loosened his own grip on Siofre’s arm, which he had unconsciously tightened in anticipation. Their blood seemed to swim and merge, swirling on their arms and in the air around them, joining the glowing aurora of magic surrounding their arms. Siofre chanted over the blood, describing figures in it with the point of the dagger, runes of some sort, Johannes thought. The symbols each glowed brightly for a moment before subsiding back into the shell of magic and blood, and Johannes felt each one as though it were hot candle wax against his skin, then seeping into his arm and integrating itself into his magic. Siofre wiped the bloody blade against her arm, then replaced it in her belt. Her wand flew to her fingers. She breathed out slowly, creating a warm breeze from between her lips, as she tapped the tip of her wand once against the glowing, pulsing shell of magic. A sound rang out, like that of a clear bell, and the encasing magic fell away from their arms and dissipated. Siofre loosened her grip on Johannes’s arm and flicked her wand once, casting a common healing charm, then she let go. “There. Now you are of the Clan Tyree, Johannes. Welcome, cousin!” Johannes smiled. “Thank you.” He bowed slightly. “And now, your first favour asked by a member of the clan to you as a member of the clan.” Siofre held out her arm. “Would you heal my scratch, Honnie?” Johannes immediately drew his wand and, holding her left hand in his, he cast a healing charm on the long, still bleeding cut, then cast a cleansing charm on her stained arm and hand. “That was all right? To clean it?” “Aye, thank you. And you may clean your own arm, though we will need a bit more of your blood for the wards, so you may wish to wait. Just a wee drop this time, though,” Siofre said. She bent and picked up something from the rock where their blood had dripped. She examined it closely, and Johannes thought that an odd expression of surprise flitted across her face. “What is it?” “It is the artifact from the ritual. One is always created. It drops from the blood and magic when the sleeve of magic is removed at the end there—when there was the ringing. Each is different.” “May I see it?” Siofre handed it to him. “You may have it—though I would like the loan of it for a day or two, if I may.” Johannes nodded. “Of course.” He examined the artifact, which lay heavily in the palm of his hand. Never having seen one, he hadn’t any idea what Siofre had found remarkable in it, or surprising. It was smooth and seemed made of gold, with veins of stone, blood red and deep malachite green. Impressed upon one side was an outlined figure that looked to Johannes like a cup or chalice with lines emerging from it, and the other side was smooth and rounded. He handed the artifact back to Siofre. “Is it unusual?” Johannes asked. “Each one is different, as I said, but this one . . . aye, it is unusual, I find.” She slipped the stone into her pocket. “Come, time for the wards, then we’ll go home for lunch, eh? I asked Multry for something special today. Something for you, to celebrate. She mentioned potato dumplings.” Author’s Note: In the next chapter, Siofre visits wizarding Tiree Beag again, and later, Malcolm drops by the estate.
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Post by MMADfan on Oct 26, 2010 16:12:18 GMT -5
Chapter Twenty-One: Wizard Tales “I’ve never seen one at all like it, but I haven’t done as many clan adoptions as you have,” Siofre said. “I thought you might have.” Bridie put on her glasses and examined the stone, then she took them off and held it close, examining it minutely. “It is unusual. It is rare to have a stone of more than one colour, and I’ve only seen two with any metal, and those were of silver and tin.” She looked up sharply at Siofre. “Did you test it? Is it metal as it appears? Is it indeed gold?” “Aye, gold. Chiefly gold.” “Quite pure, then. And the red and green stone through it . . . these are not so uncommon, but usually you only see one or the other, as you have noticed. Sometimes two. I have never seen three materials, though . . . and then the symbol.” “I know. That puzzled me almost more than the rest.” “I have only seen three like it, and all three were witches, and none had these, these extra markings,” Bridie said, indicating the few lines radiating from the cup. “It is more complex than usual, as well, I thought. The wizards I have brought into the clan, or whose artifacts I have seen, have had crossed lines, arrows, parallel lines, cross-hatches, triangles, zigzags.” Bridie nodded. “I have seen many, and they are all also of that general type.” Bridie shrugged and handed back the stone. “I am more interested now to meet this wizard. He will be at young Murdoch’s party?” “Aye. I will introduce you then.” “Good.” “You have nothing else to say of it?” Siofre asked. “What would you say?” Bridie asked in return. Siofre looked at the stone that lay in her palm. “It must have something to do with me, as well—” “It always does, an’ you know that, too,” Bridie said. “But . . . more than usual, I think. Perhaps because I invited him into the clan as well as performing the ritual. There was no third person there, no sponsor. It was only my own blood and magic that I used . . .” “Aye, and that is the key. Your blood, your magic, his blood, his magic. An’ this says something about your relationship to the man, and his to you—the relationship that goes beyond the binding ritual, beyond the kinship ties you created. The relationship that already existed between you, and perhaps which will exist in the future.” “Is the marking mine, then? The chalice? It is a witch’s symbol,” Siofre said. “But I’ve never heard of the binder’s magic influencing it in this way. The symbol should be that of the one brought into the clan.” “There are also the rays, remember.” Bridie shook her head. “I am no Diviner, Siofre hen. I canna tell you what these markings may mean, not beyond what I’ve already said. It could be his own symbol, simply influenced by you—your presence, your magic, his feelings toward you. Or it could be that the chalice is yours and the rays are his, though that is more doubtful. I have no answer for you. But if he is a gardener, as you say, a nurturer, I see no reason to discount the chalice as his. If he has a . . . a receptive soul, an open heart, that with his nearness to you and the warmth of his feelings could have created this symbol as his own.” “Will it remain a mystery, then?” Bridie laughed. “You do like answers, I know that. You always have, since you were a bairn. Sometimes . . . sometimes the only answers are the ones we create. You will read that aright when the time comes an’ it’ll tell its tale, if that’s even an interest for you then.” Siofre nodded, willing to wait. “Thank you, Bridie.” “How is your arm today?” Bridie asked, reaching out one hand. Siofre twitched her right shoulder. “A wee bit sore, but the magister—that is, Johannes—cast the healing spell on it, an’ it’ll be fine in a day or so.” She let Bridie push up her left sleeve and examine her arm. There was still a slight pink line reaching from near the wrist all the way up Siofre’s forearm. “His seemed to heal a wee faster, but I likely have more practice with the charm.” “Aye, ’tis healing well, though. Good you did a clean cut,” Bridie said with a nod of approval. “I never have hesitated, not e’en the first time, you know that,” Siofre said. “’Tis worse an it’s not begun well and with determination.” “That is why Cousin Cait does not ever join any into the clan—after the first two, I decided it best she dinna. Especially for the two poor wizards who were in more pain for her hesitation than if she’d been quick and steady about it. She has a kindly heart, though.” “Johannes was steady, as well. I don’t believe he e’en felt it much.” “Good, then.” Bridie chuckled. “You know David Pugh—poor lad fainted the first time I tried to begin the ritual. His wife and I had to revive him, heal the wound, then start again. Saw his own blood, and down he went.” Siofre laughed. “Men are worse that way, I think, and often the most unlikely ones.” “Aye, you’re right there, hen!” Siofre drew her watch from around her neck. “I am off now. I need to go and see Lachina before I return home, but Malcolm sent an owl earlier today asking to see me, and he’ll be coming for dinner. I don’t know when he will arrive, but as it’s Friday, it may be early. I told him to come as soon as he wished.” “He is doing well?” “Aye, so it seems. He is still in Hogsmeade.” “And still in love.” “Aye, still in love. I don’t believe that will change. This witch has caught him well.” “He is the one who introduced you to Johannes, isn’t he?” “Nay, that was Minerva, when they taught together, but they are friends, Malcolm and Johannes. Malcolm suggested that Johannes work on the estate gardens.” “I see . . . He knows you invited Johannes into the clan and performed the ritual yesterday?” “Unless Johannes has told him, or Lydia, he does not. I have only spoken with you about it.” “So he is not coming about that.” “Nay. I am going to encourage him to take Johannes back to Hogsmeade with him this weekend, though, as long as he will be there this evening. Encourage the lad to have some fun, get away from the estate a wee, remember the world beyond it.” “Good plan, Siofre. He is young still, after all.” “Though not too young,” Siofre said, though she sounded uncharacteristically hesitant. “Nay, not too young,” Bridie said with a smile. “Not with all he’s done, all he’s suffered. And he sounds like an old soul with a deep well of love.” “He is an excellent Herbology master. Next Saturday, I will have him give you a tour of the gardens he has planted.” Bridie chuckled. “That would be fine, hen. This excellent Herbology master may give me a tour. Tell young Malcolm that it has been too long since he has visited the island. He must come soon and visit his island cousins.” Siofre nodded. “I will.”
Johannes had found Siofre in her study when he returned to the house and Sorrel told him that the mistress wished to see him. “This is for you to keep,” Siofre said, standing and reaching into her pocket. “I brought it to my cousin Lachina, who is a Lapidomancer and jeweller, and she set it in a circle of gold for you, and I put a gold chain with it. You may carry it or not, as you wish, or wear it around your neck. Collum used his as a fob for his watch. But others put them in a drawer or on a shelf.” She handed him the ritual artifact, its chain flowing like water into his hand. “Thank you, Siofre,” Johannes said, unconsciously rubbing his thumb over the stone’s smooth surface. “I think I shall wear it, at least for a while. It will remind me of my new clan.” He smiled suddenly. “My clan. Yes, I will need to become accustomed to this.” He laughed. Siofre chuckled, herself. “Aye, that you will.” “Lydia said that Malcolm owled earlier this afternoon and that he’s coming for dinner tonight.” “Aye, just after lunch. You had already gone out. The lad wished to see me about something, so—” she shrugged “—I invited him to come for dinner and stay the night. Then you two can return to Hogsmeade together in the morning.” “I have work—” “I do not force you to leave, Honnie, but you should get out, leave the estate for the weekend. As Lydia always reminds me, there is more in life than work and responsibility. And speaking of responsibility, you must have business of your own that needs minding. But if you do stay here, you must not work.” Siofre thought that Johannes looked almost as astonished as a house-elf told to take a holiday from service, but then he nodded. “You are right, of course, but simply because I am . . . because I am busy in the gardens does not mean that I am working.” Siofre’s eyebrows rose. Johannes laughed and shook his head. “I may be working, but it is also . . . I enjoy it. It is not simply a job, you know.” “Good to hear, lad! I was wondering what our contract was for!” Siofre laughed. “I work now for more than the contract,” Johannes said softly. He looked down, then shook his head, considering his words. “I work for the land and for you, but you could burn the contract, and it would not alter my dedication to the work . . .” He raised his eyes to look into hers. “Nor my devotion to the mistress of the estate, to you,” he whispered. “Magister . . .” Her breath hitched. Johannes turned the artifact in his hand and held it so that its chain fell free. “I will wear this now, and I will remember the Clan Tyree and the witch whose blood ran warm over my arm, whose magic entered my own, and to whom I made one pledge in words and a second in my heart, one pledge to clan and kin, and another . . . to you.” He raised the stone to his lips and kissed it, then he quickly dropped the chain around his neck. “Honnie . . .” Siofre reached out and touched the stone. “Honnie. Make no pledge to me.” Johannes took her hand and held it wrapped around the artifact. “It is done, and it could not be otherwise.” Eyes closed, he bent his head and kissed her fingers before gently releasing her hand. “You carry the stone as you wish, in whatever manner you desire,” Siofre said briskly, stepping back. “Before the grandson arrives, I need to finish this petition to the Wizengamot on behalf of Butterworth and his horses.” “You will represent Mr Butterworth, then?” Siofre nodded. “Aye. And the case will be heard in less than two weeks, on May fifth, so there is not much time to prepare. I will be busy this weekend with that.” “Bertrand and Sally will return next week, and then there is the bonfire, the guests, and then the party on Saturday. Will you have the time?” “Aye, an I do not waste it,” Siofre said, sitting down at her desk. “Therefore, I must work this weekend. But the same is not true of you, Johannes. Take time away. ’Twill be good for you.” Johannes looked doubtful, but he bowed slightly and left the room to allow Siofre to return to her work before Malcolm arrived. Siofre let out a long, shaky breath when the door clicked shut behind her. She closed her eyes and calmed herself, trying to clear her mind to work. Johannes’s warm hand around hers, his gentle lips, his quiet but unabashed declaration of devotion to her . . . she had almost forgotten herself and her own pledge to allow Johannes his freedom, and not simply for his sake, but because she only wanted him on that basis: to freely choose her and to freely bind himself to her. For no simple partnership, no common marriage, would satisfy her in this relationship. If she were to have him, she would have him wholly, completely. She would return his devotion with devotion of her own, unwavering. But not that day. Not yet. She was just finishing the first draft of the petition to the Wizengamot, which she would submit on Monday morning, when she heard a resounding crack of a loud Apparition. Malcolm had arrived, and was either announcing his arrival noisily or had come from some distance, Siofre thought, since he was perfectly capable of Disapparating and Apparating with no more than a slight echoing click if he chose. She quickly tidied her desk and placed her goose quill in its holder, hurrying but not rushing to leave her study. She approached the top of the stairs, and she heard Malcolm’s voice in the hall, greeting Lydia, who was complaining about Malcolm’s dramatic arrival. “Bless me! That booming Apparition still has my heart pounding, Malcolm! I am going to need a cup of tea to calm myself.” “Nay, Auntie, not a cup of tea! Something a bit tastier—and stronger! I’d not mind a glass, myself,” Malcolm replied. He looked up the stairs and grinned. “And Grandmother comes. She will join us, won’t you, Grandmother?” Rather than wait for her to come down the great, broad staircase, he bounded up to meet her halfway. He kissed her cheek, then as she stepped down onto the stair beside him, he put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “I believe you’ve been a very busy witch these last days,” Malcolm said, eyes sparkling, “but I had an interesting morning today, myself. And I’ll tell you all about it—but where’s Honnie? The man’s not left for the day, has he?” “He’ll be along, I’m sure,” Siofre said. “He couldn’t have failed to have heard your arrival even if he were down by the barley,” Lydia added. Indeed, they heard steps above them, coming down from the second floor where Johannes’s rooms were. When he reached the first floor, Johannes smiled and trotted down more quickly to meet the others. “Malcolm! Siofre said you would be here this evening,” Johannes said, offering his hand. Malcolm smiled and grasped Johannes’s hand in his own. His smile froze on its way to his eyes, and then returned, though there was still a hint of puzzlement in his expression. “I thought we’d have a drink in the teak lounge today,” Lydia said. “I had Multry prepare some appetisers since you were coming, Malcolm.” Johannes hadn’t yet seen the room which Lydia referred to, and followed the others. It was in the less-used part of the house, near the formal dining room and large parlour. The lounge was panelled in teak, as Lydia’s name for it implied, and it had heavy, darker, more masculine furniture than that in the light, cheerful parlour or in the family sitting room. Large portraits of a few Tyrees hung along one wall, and tall brass sconces and three chandeliers were lit, warming the room with their candlelight, and a fire crackled cheerfully in the fireplace. After they’d sat down and Malcolm had poured them each a glass of whisky—save Lydia, who sipped a sherry—their appetisers arrived, and Malcolm picked up three and gobbled them down. “Laddie! Where are your manners! Egeria taught you better,” Siofre scolded. “Sorry, Grandmother.” He waved his hand, and a tray of appetisers rose and floated over to Siofre. “I am famished, though that is no excuse for not offering the snacks around first.” The tray floated to each of the others, and as Johannes selected a small savoury pastry, he caught Malcolm looking at him curiously again, but then Malcolm turned to his grandmother. “I had a very interesting commission today. Wizard wrote me in a panic yesterday. Sure he’s been cursed, needs my help desperately, heard I’m the bee’s knees, all that usual stuff, but he did sound more desperate than most, so I hopped on over to Cornwall bright and early this morning.” Malcolm took a long swallow of whisky. “The man is in a state, pacing back and forth, hadn’t slept the night before, and there wasn’t a sensible word out of his mouth at first. I thought he might be a bit, you know, ‘disturbed,’ as they say,” Malcolm said, tapping the side of his head. “His wife was making breakfast. I’d eaten already, but to be friendly and set the man at his ease, I sat down with him to a hearty breakfast of kidneys and salty porridge—actually rather nice—then told the lady of the house to have a seat and rest herself a bit. She looked about ready to pop. Must be nearing her fortieth week, easy. Thought I might be enlisted to deliver the bairn then and there, she’s that close.” “Egeria will be pleased that you retain so much knowledge of midwifery,” Siofre said drily. “Well, she shouldn’t have dragged me along with her all those years if she didn’t want me to learn something. It was supposed to be educational, after all—even if I did enjoy my outings with you more,” Malcolm said with a cheeky wink at his grandmother. “You’re still my best lassie!” Siofre shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I know who you were seeing!” Lydia said excitedly. “Indeed,” Johannes agreed. “I believe we all do.” Malcolm gave them a crooked grin and turned to his grandmother. “So what have you been up to, Grandmother? I’ve never seen a man in such a swither over a few Temperance Charms placed on his threshold!” “It wasn’t only Temperance Charms I placed,” Siofre replied. “Nay, I could tell that, too. The entire house reeked of your magic—if you’ll pardon the expression—and there’s no magic like Siofre Tyree’s. No mistaking it. I even found the wee hole you’d punched through his wards so you could Apparate into the kitchen, you sneaky old witch. But I listened to the man’s tale of woe nonetheless. It was certain, he was, that some mysterious force had been following him the other day, too. Would that mighty force have been you?” “Aye,” Johannes said, “she followed Terwilliger on Wednesday, all day, from the time he left his house until he returned that evening.” Malcolm glanced over at Johannes, again seeming to look at him oddly. “Did you tell him what the charms were?” Siofre asked. “Nay, even before I recognised you there, I thought the man could do with a bit of temperance with a baby on the way. Thought there had to be a reason for the charms, and if he didn’t know of them, the wife must have laid them, or had them cast for her, and I’d not deny a pregnant witch a sober husband.” “What did you tell him?” Lydia asked. Malcolm smirked. “I thought I might help Grandmother along a little, so I told him quite honestly that I didn’t detect a single trace of a curse on either him or his house, but that there was an unusual store of magic there. I said I’d seen it before, and suggested to him that we should have a little private talk out of earshot of his wife. I think she was a wee bit nervous then, but I had Cadoc help me clean up the breakfast dishes—I do believe he was thinking of leaving them to his wife, as if she were his house-elf or something—and we repaired to the sitting room. I made a great show of putting an Imperturbable on the room, then I sat him down for a wizard-to-wizard chat.” Malcolm laughed. “I must say, I did have a bit of fun with this. Not quite sporting of me, maybe, but I told the fellow a few tall tales. Told him that it was a much hidden, highly guarded secret, and a rare occurrence, to boot, but that some wizards became magically pregnant as their wives pregnancy progressed—” Malcolm had to pause in his story to accommodate the others’ laughter, Lydia whooping and slapping her knee, his grandmother chuckling, and even Johannes laughing and wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “Well, anyway, I told him that in cases of a wizard’s magical pregnancy, the wizard’s excess energy often transfers itself to his abode, whatever it might be, and that in the case of stone houses such as his, the magic could resonate for many years to come, but that it would also provide a special nurturing energy for his bairn as she grew. I said it was a rare honour for a wizard to be able to provide such protection for his family, but that there were some costs to be borne, such as a reduced tolerance for drink. I asked him whether he’d noticed any such side-effect, and he nodded eagerly, agreeing that in the last few weeks, he’d scarcely been able to hold his liquor. Drink taken in his home made him sick, he said, and if he came home after having more than a pint or two, he’d pass out as soon as he crossed the threshold. It was one of the things that had made him believe he was cursed.” “Oh, dear, laddie! What have you wrought! What if he tells his mates?” “Took care of that—said that the Ministry doesn’t like this to be common knowledge—made up some balderdash about that which he swallowed easily. I told him that this magic pervading the house meant that he would be a superlative father and that his daughter—or son—would be an outstanding witch or wizard who would bring him great pride. I told him that the consequences would be severe for him if he tried to ignore the magic and its nurturing imperative, then made up a few tales of woe about wizards living under bridges with trolls, only a single robe to their names, begging for Knuts, and said that’s what happened to any wizard who rejected the call to abide in accordance with the pregnancy magic and nurture his child in partnership with his wife.” “And what did you say about the force he thought was following him?” Lydia asked excitedly. “Ah, now that I told him was the result of his attempts to escape his fate, and that worse than that would follow him if he didn’t become the family man his magic was calling him to be. I told him that great joy and fulfilment could come to him if he lived in harmony with his natural parental magic—though I told him there were no guarantees there, and that the outside world did exert forces upon him and his family, as well—but that if he chose to follow this rare and splendid opportunity, he could be a very happy man.” Lydia laughed. “Such stories you make up, Malcolm! And he believed you!” “Aye, because he wanted to. I could tell he wasn’t a bad sort, not really, just married a wee bit young, maybe, and a bit lacking in self-confidence. Besides, there was a kernel of truth to it all—fatherhood is a wonderful calling, I’m sure, and being a good father should be a reward in itself. Provided, of course, that the child doesn’t turn out to be a miserable creature.” Malcolm shrugged. “Well, I do hope you did more good than harm with that story, lad,” Siofre said. “I think so. I told him not to let on to his wife about it all, just to tell her that all was well and that he was looking forward to being a daddy. I also told him that if there are other sources of stress in his life, he should find ways to deal with them in a practical and constructive manner. That’s when he told me he hated his job and his boss but was afraid to quit because of the baby on the way. Naturally I told him not to quit until he found another job, but suggested that he begin looking for one after the baby was born. Told him to consult a Seer or Arithmancer who specialises in career advice. I gave him Gertrude’s name and told him that she takes commissions for particularly worthy cases, and if he mentioned my name, she might be able to make time for him—he just got out of Hogwarts a few years ago, so he knows who she is, but he didn’t take Arithmancy, so he doesn’t know her at all well.” “You’d better tell your witch what tales you spun for the fellow so that she doesn’t say anything that out-and-out contradicts you,” Siofre said. “I didn’t give him any career advice, per se, so if she concentrates on that—or whatever Seer he might choose concentrates on his career—my little tales should remain intact.” “Well, you might want to mention the newspaper business to Gertrude. I sent Kiera with a letter to a friend of mine at the Prophet,” Siofre said, “and mentioned that he might try to run into Terwilliger in a casual way and talk to him about the newspaper business.” “And this friend, he will do this?” Johannes asked curiously. “Simply . . . run into the man and discuss jobs with him?” “Gerald Mackintosh owes me a favour or two, so he will. But not to discuss jobs. Just the business in general, and if Terwilliger sees an opportunity and tries for it, that depends upon him, and there is no obligation on Mackie to hire the man if he’s not suited.” “I remember Gerald,” Lydia said dreamily. “I haven’t seen him in years, though. Wonder if he’s still the same . . .” “I ran into him in Diagon Alley a few months ago, Aunt Lydia, and he’s still a bonny one!” Malcolm said with a grin. He added to Johannes, “You can count on Aunt Lydia to remember the good-looking men! Quite an appreciative eye, she has!” “Oh, go on!” Lydia said. “You make me sound like some lecherous old hag!” “Not at all, Auntie! You simply have an artist’s appreciation for beauty! And if it happens to come in a masculine package, so much the better!” Malcolm teased. “I’m sure the others are in agreement with me, too, that no one could ever mistake you for a hag, lecherous or otherwise.” Johannes, though used to Malcolm’s sense of humour and his gentle—or not so gentle—teasing, did feel compelled to defend Lydia. “She is, indeed, an artist, and, if I may speak so plainly,” he said with a gentlemanly nod at Lydia, “she is also quite lovely herself, and in no way hag-like.” Malcolm laughed at that, and Lydia chuckled. “Thank you, Johannes. You are a gentleman,” Lydia said with a fond smile. “I see why you two ladies like to keep the man here,” Malcolm said with a smile. “But he is quite right, too.” Malcolm got up from his chair, setting down his empty glass, and went over to Lydia. He bent and kissed her cheek. “You are lovely. But,” he said as he straightened and turned to the others, “Honnie should remember that it was not I who compared her to a hag, but the lady herself.” A light, clear tone rang through the house, and Siofre set down her own glass and stood. “That would be dinner. Let us not keep Multry’s meal waiting—especially as the grandson is likely still famished despite the dozen tidbits he ate—such tale-telling does work up an appetite!”
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Hogwarts Duo
First Year
Does it get any better than ADMM?
Posts: 53
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Post by Hogwarts Duo on Oct 26, 2010 18:46:51 GMT -5
I love this chapter. The bits between Malcolm and Siofre where they're talking of her charms placed on the house were positively a hoot! And she's still "his best lassie," awwww!!!
I'd almost forgotten how much fun Malcolm could be and how much his spirit leaps off the page. He's a gem!!!
Thanks for the update!
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Post by MMADfan on Nov 6, 2010 14:46:13 GMT -5
I love this chapter. The bits between Malcolm and Siofre where they're talking of her charms placed on the house were positively a hoot! And she's still "his best lassie," awwww!!! I'd almost forgotten how much fun Malcolm could be and how much his spirit leaps off the page. He's a gem!!! Thanks for the update! Thanks for the review, Ang! I'm glad you're enjoying Malcolm. There's more of him in these next chapters. I love to write him, too -- he just jumps into the page, too! I made "whoopsie" and forgot to post the previous chapter here last time I updated, so I'm updating with two chapters today. I hope you enjoy!
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Post by MMADfan on Nov 6, 2010 14:47:13 GMT -5
Chapter Twenty-Two: Kinsmen “You have to work this weekend?” Malcolm asked, setting down his fork and picking up his wine glass. “Do you really have to? I thought I’d spend the day tomorrow. I had thought we could go hill-walking. I wanted to stretch my doggie legs a bit, too.” “Sorry, lad, I have to file the petition with the Wizengamot on Monday, and there’s the hearing on the fifth, so I canna go with you.” Siofre rang the small bell by her plate, and their entrees disappeared. Plates of fruit, biscuits, and cheese appeared in the centre of the table. “Maybe Johannes would like to go with you,” Lydia suggested, reaching for the cheese, “if he doesn’t have something planned already.” Malcolm frowned. “I’d hoped you’d have time, Grandmother. But what do you say, Honnie? Ready for a ramble?” “You are not seeing Gertrude this weekend?” Johannes asked. “She has to stay at the castle this weekend, more’s the pity. Promised Slughorn she’d watch his Slytherins for him over the weekend so that he can attend a wedding or a funeral or something.” Lydia laughed. “There’s a big difference between a wedding and a funeral, Malcolm!” “Not to me!” He gave a mock shudder, then laughed. “I just didn’t follow whatever it was Gertrude said after she told me she was stuck up there all weekend. But that does mean that Sluggy owes her. She’s rearranged her classes next week, and he’s taking her rounds on Thursday and Sunday, so that means she will be here for the entire weekend, Friday included. Well, she said she does have to go back Friday afternoon for an hour to teach one of her NEWTs level classes, but otherwise, she’s mine from Thursday evening until I deliver her to the gates on Monday morning.” “That is good,” Lydia said, smiling brightly. “Minerva will be here Thursday night for a while, she said, but then she won’t be able to be back until Saturday afternoon for Murdoch’s party. She is still planning to be here through Sunday, though, which will be nice. I think she wanted to spend more time with the babies.” “So, what about it, Johannes?” Malcolm asked. “Up for a walk tomorrow?” Johannes glanced at Siofre, then nodded. “Aye, that would be fine. I have no pressing business in Hogsmeade. Perhaps Lydia would like to come with us.” “No, no, that’s fine!” Lydia said. “A walk like that would do me in, I’m certain—especially if Malcolm goes haring about in his Animagus form. I will meet you for a picnic in the middle of the day, if you like, though. Tell me when and where, and I’ll Apparate there—or one of you could come back for me, if you wouldn’t mind that.” “We’d like that, wouldn’t we, Honnie,” Malcolm agreed with a nod. “And you can take a bit of an amble with us after lunch.” “I would be happy to return for you, unless Malcolm has a specific destination in mind for our picnic,” Johannes said. “There’s a route I like to take, it brings us up to the overlook by the southern hill fort, but I don’t know whether we would make it there by lunchtime or not,” Malcolm replied. “It would depend on when we left in the morning and how leisurely our pace was.” “The hill tower sounds like a lovely spot for a picnic, though,” Lydia said. “The view is beautiful from there.” “All right, then, Auntie, we’ll have our picnic there,” Malcolm said indulgently. “I could still come for you, if you wish, Lydia,” Johannes offered. “That would be kind of you, Johannes dear. I’ll have the picnic all packed, and it’ll be ready whenever you two boys are,” Lydia said. “Good—I think an early lunch, if we get up and out whilst the dew’s still on the grass,” Malcolm said. “I’ll be ready when you are,” Lydia replied. “Now, Morgan will be here in a little while to play with me. If you’d all like to, you could join us. He practised some this morning, so I don’t think he’d mind a small audience.” “It is your new piece that you are playing?” Johannes asked. “Yes. I do hope we can have it polished by the time Bertie and Sally arrive!” Lydia said. She turned to Malcolm. “I don’t think you’ve heard my new piece yet, Malcolm.” “The one you’re dedicating to Bert and Sally?” Malcolm asked. He shook his head. “I’d like to hear it. Does it have a title yet?” “Well . . . I’ve toyed with a few, but I think perhaps Peregrine Homecoming,” Lydia said. “That sounds appropriate—but you didn’t write me a song when I came home from my wanderings,” Malcolm teased. “You are aye not her son, either,” Siofre said. “I could! If you want,” Lydia said. “You always did come home, though. You just would wander about for a while then come home and leave again for a time. I wondered whether I might die never seeing my boy home again.” Malcolm smiled at her and reached across the table to pat her hand. “Not to worry, Auntie. I was only teasing you a bit. And you did say you’d help me set some of my songs down in proper musical form sometime, and that would be a wonderful gift.” “I thought I would finish some work this evening, but I think I’ll simply have an early start tomorrow,” Siofre said. “I would enjoy hearing the completed piece with the violin added.” “You understand, it needs a bit of polish still,” Lydia said hastily. “It’s finished, in that it has a beginning, middle, and ending, but there are a few points where I’m still not happy with it.” “Let’s all go into the music room and have a listen,” Malcolm said. “And I’d not mind some of that apple brandy you and Shoolie put up, either, Aunt Lydia. She and Shoolie are wonders when it comes to apple brandy, Honnie. Have you had any yet? You’re in for a treat, then.” “Is that what the still is for down in the big shed near the rock garden?” Johannes asked. At Lydia’s nod, he said, “I had wondered—it is very large.” “We make a few barrels every year—we started doing it absolutely ages ago when we were trying to think of new ways to use the apples. So many bushels seemed to go to waste. We did a lot of cider for a time—and we still keep some as cider, of course—but everyone seems to like the apple brandy. We don’t do as many barrels as we once did, though. We’re leaving more apples for the squirrels and deer and such, I suppose,” Lydia said, shaking her head. “Do you sell it?” Johannes asked. Lydia laughed. “Oh, no. We always send a couple barrels to Tiree, and Egeria and Murdoch enjoy receiving a barrel every few years. When they finish one, they send it back empty, and we send them a full one. But we never sell it.” Johannes looked at Siofre. “We could sell some of it. Not in barrels, perhaps, but bottle it and sell it. We could get bottles from Mayfield Charmed Glassworks. Perhaps Madam Mayfield would also accept payment in-kind of some sort. I think we might be able to generate a nice income with it. Have you any barrels on hand now?” “Oh, heavens, yes!” Lydia replied. “We have about thirty. I’d say that of those, at least a dozen are ready to be drunk. I do like it to age in the barrel several years. Gives it a nice flavour and it mellows nicely.” “They are large, these barrels?” “We have two hogsheads, but most are about half that size, maybe twenty-six or twenty-seven gallons,” Lydia said. “I do not know that in litres,” Johannes said, “but that seems a lot of brandy to me.” “We used to do much more,” Lydia repeated, “and if you think we could sell it, if you think people would be interested, we could do more again. Sorrel helped Shoolie and me last year.” “When it comes to alcohol,” Malcolm said with a laugh, “people are always interested!” “What do you think, Siofre?” Lydia asked. “Aye, it’s a fine idea, hen. But don’t decide yet whether to distill more this year until we see whether the grandson and Honnie are right and there is interest in it,” Siofre said. “Ah, you’re always such a pessimist, Grandmother!” “Nay, not at all. Simply cautious.” “The apples are not ready until late summer or autumn, anyway,” Johannes said practically, “and if it must rest in the barrels for a while before drinking, too, it gives us time to adjust and to begin slowly selling it.” “You’re a better businessman than you claim to be,” Malcolm said. Johannes shrugged. “It seems logical first to attempt to find ways of making a profit from the estate doing what we—they—have always done, or have done in the past, as in the case of the bere, rather than trying to find new ventures that might not be viable. Those might come later.” Lydia smiled brightly. “You are a treasure, Johannes! I always say that. Isn’t he a treasure, Siofre?” Siofre side-stepped the question and its implied imperative to praise Johannes. “It will be good to make better use of the estate’s natural assets,” she said. There was a muted crack of Apparition from the front hall. “That will be Morgan, no doubt. Malcolm, would you and Johannes go meet him and bring him to the music room. Dinna serve him any brandy till after he and Lydia have run through the piece a few times, though.” Lydia began to rise with the two wizards, but Siofre made a slight gesture to her. “I have something I need to tell you, hen, best now.” Lydia looked slightly puzzled, but sat down as Malcolm and Johannes left the room. “What is it, Siofre?” “I discovered who the neighbour is who is causing the Butterworths such vexation,” Siofre said. “Someone we know?” Siofre nodded. “Someone we’re related to, in fact,” she said, generously including herself. “’Tis your nephew Drusus.” “Drusus? Well . . . I can hardly say that surprises me. He is a misery in flesh,” Lydia said with a sad shake of her head. “I wished to tell you because I must be adverse to him in these proceedings. You understand that.” “Of course. And I would expect you to do your job properly, in any case, even if Drusus weren’t a nasty character.” “I also . . . let us just say that those who live in glass houses oughtn’t throw stones,” Siofre said. “I may take advantage of that in the case of Drusus.” Lydia’s brow furrowed. “How so? He doesn’t keep animals. At least none other than some he might keep for potions and such.” She shuddered. “They’re all in cages and glass cases, though, I’m sure.” Siofre shook her head. “I mean that he oughtn’t draw attention to his neighbours’ slight peccadillos when his own are much greater.” “You mean his Charms business in general,” Lydia said. “You know the reputation the man has,” Siofre said. “It would not be a difficult thing for me to discover and present evidence that the man himself does more than dabble in the Dark Arts, and that these Charms commissions he accepts are most of them for nasty, Dark, or illegal purposes.” “But is that relevant to Butterworths’ winged horses?” “Believe me, hen, I can find ways of making it relevant and ensuring that his place is searched afore he has time to hide everything,” Siofre said. “But the man could end up in Azkaban for it, or at least pay a hefty fine.” Lydia stared across the room. She blinked, then looked back at Siofre. “He already has that reputation. It’s not a well-hid secret. There must be some on the Wizengamot with their own suspicions already.” “Aye, but with no clear cause to pursue him at this moment. I could give them cause. I dinna wish to take this tack if you would be hurt by it, though, hen. He is your brother’s grandson. There are other defences I have.” “But if Drusus is doing wrong . . .” Lydia shook her head. “It isn’t just a little law he is bending, either, is it, Sister? One that does none harm . . . and he’d be quite happy to see his neighbour in prison or forfeiting his horses . . . You must do as you see fit. Whatever you would do if he weren’t related to me. If it really is Dark or nasty business he’s in. If he’s just making illegal, unregistered Portkeys for people to make quite innocent visits to family and friends, something of that sort . . . though I know his character well enough to know that wouldn’t be all. No, you must proceed however you would even if he were just John Smith, whom we don’t know from Adam. Even if it sends him to Azkaban.” “I’d almost as soon not have him sent to Azkaban,” Siofre said. “His reputation would only grow after that. Nay, a fine and having his illegal Charmed objects confiscated would be better. Slow him up a bit, anyway, and not polish—or blacken—his reputation enough to steer more Dark business his way. Might have some reputable folk avoiding him, though. And if his Darker customers think he might be raided again at any time, it might keep that side of his business down for a little while. Embarrass him without making him seem more . . . attractive to his nastier clientele.” “When did you learn that it was Drusus?” “Butterworth told me he thought it was he, but the MLE wouldn’t confirm it to him. I received some of the files this morning, and although his name had been redacted—until I file my petition Monday, I canna get the full files—I am sure it is he. There is no other neighbour of Butterworth’s who it could be. I thought about waiting until then to tell you, but I thought there was no point to putting off the news. I hope it hasn’t ruined your evening.” “Heavens, no. I scarcely know the man, after all. It does make me sad for my family, for that side of my family, but it doesn’t diminish my joy in the rest of my family, or the pleasure I’ll have with Morgan this evening. He may not be my blood relative, but he’s more truly my nephew than Drusus ever was, Malcolm and Murdoch, too. And all the rest of the family, as well.” In an unusual gesture, Siofre reached over and took Lydia’s hand. “An’ you are a sister to me, Lydia. ’Tis why I dinna wish to take a step against him without speaking with you first.” “Save Butterworth, if you can, Siofre,” Lydia said. “Leave Drusus to his fate as he has made it.” “Aye, I’ll save Butterworth and his horses,” Siofre said with a nod. She cocked her head and smiled. “They’ve begun without you, I think.” Lydia grinned, hearing Malcolm with his penny whistle and Morgan on his fiddle playing a lively tune. “We’d better get in there before Malcolm completely leads him astray and we have an impromptu ceilidh on our hands! Hmm, perhaps Malcolm might wish a part—not for penny whistle, perhaps for recorder . . . There is a spot in my composition where that might fit quite well.” “Let’s go ask him, then,” Siofre said, pushing back from the table and standing. Three hours later, after the three had practised Peregrine Homecoming a few times—Malcolm learning his part of the melody more by ear than by reading the music—and after the musical evening had become a miniature ceilidh, with even the house-elves called to tap their toes and twirl about, Kilbeena and Duster given special dispensation to stay up late and the older house-elves indulging in butterbeer, and Lydia grabbing Johannes’s hand and leading him in a vigorous dance, during which the Herbologist appeared confused, but not unhappy, Siofre finally declared that she was off to bed. “Ah, one more dance with your favourite grandson,” Malcolm wheedled, Morgan guffawing in the background and tightening one of his strings up a bit. “Eh? My favourite grandson?” Siofre looked around her. “I dinna see Murdoch here!” Everyone laughed, and Johannes, quite warm from the drink and the dancing, put his arm through Malcolm’s. “Come up with me, Malcolm. Bring the bottle, and we’ll have another on our own.” “Can you get home safely?” Lydia asked Morgan anxiously. “Aye, an I not Apparate,” Morgan said. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes bright. “Nex’ time, Fiona’ll be here. She wanted t’ sleep early, though, when she can.” He blinked. “I’ll walk down fine.” “We should light the path somehow,” Johannes said, brow furrowed as he considered it. “Think about that some other time, laddie!” Siofre admonished. “’Tis the weekend, an’ you’re not t’ be workin’! I told you that already.” She turned to Malcolm. “I’m aye after tellin’ him not to work every day of the week. You see he has fun this weekend. Bring him home with you. Take him out. Fun, laddies, fun whilst yer young! I had little enough: you do better. Aye, and sleep well, dream sweetly.” With that pronouncement, Siofre left the music room, the house-elves all Disapparated, and Lydia accompanied Morgan through to the conservatory and the door that led to the kitchen gardens. “All right, mate, now you and I can have a proper chat,” Malcolm said, appearing suddenly much more alert and sober than he had—and more than Johannes felt. He snagged an unopened bottle of brandy with his left hand and steered Johannes toward the hallway. “We have some questions to discuss.” “Discuss?” Johannes asked. “Fragen? Ich meine, that is, what questions, why?” “A matter of magic, my boy. Yours. And a few other things I’ve noticed tonight.” Malcolm helped Johannes stumble up the steps. “I got ya in over your head here, I’m afraid, mate,” he muttered to himself. “I am find. I will have a glass of water to drink. We will tomorrow the hills walk.” Johannes blinked at him. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re just ‘find,’ but it’s not the drink that concerns me,” Malcolm replied. “And we will the hills tomorrow walk, though I’d prefer to walk the hills tomorrow. However you prefer, though, mein Freund.” Johannes smiled at him. “Ja, mein Freund.” He squeezed Malcolm. “Ein guter Freund. Der beste. ’S gibt keinen besser.” “Aye, I know, I’m the bee’s knees and the cat’s pyjamas,” Malcolm said, guiding Johannes toward his suite. Johannes laughed. “A cat in pyjamas. You should tell Minerva, cat’s pyjamas!” He laughed again. “I wanted you loose and lucid, not completely paralytic,” Malcolm grumbled. “Oh, aye, I am lucid, I am,” Johannes said with a vigorous nod. “Just need to use the faculties and I will be, how do you say it, ready for another round. That is good, that Brandtwein.” “It is—how many glasses did you have, anyway, Honnie?” Malcolm asked as they reached the door to Johannes’s sitting room. “Hmm, four? Five? I cannot recall. You poured and Morgan poured.” Johannes shrugged. “Not many. I did not pour any myself. Your brother is a generous wizard. McGonagalls are . . . das Salz der Erde. Und die Tyrees auch. But only a few glasses had I to drink.” “But you had wine with dinner, as well.” “Was that a mistake? Wine with dinner, no brandy after? Ich weiss, Wein nach Bier, ich schenk’ das dir, Bier nach Wein, lass das sein! Aber ’s war kein Bier. It was Lydia’s lovely brandywine. Apple.” “Aye, lovely apple brandy, Johannes. Go to the ‘faculties.’ I’ll get you some coffee and myself another drink.” As Johannes disappeared in the direction of the toilet, singing softly to himself in German, Malcolm shook his head. “Maybe he’s just drunk in English.” He called for Multry, who seemed the house-elf least taken with drink—aside from Shoolie, and he didn’t want to disturb the old house-elf. “Aye, Little Collie, I can bring him some coffee. Coffee with a lot of cream. You’ll have some, as well?” “A cup of coffee might be pleasant right now,” Malcolm said. “With a shot of the brandy in it, especially.” Multry laughed. “I’ll send it up with some biscuits. It won’t be long.” “Thank you, Multry. I won’t be calling you again tonight,” Malcolm said. “Call if you need to, Collie. Sorrel is putting the bairns to bed. I’ll be up a while longer, but call after that if there’s need!” “You’re good as gold, Multry.” Malcolm reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Thank you.” “Save your thanks,” Multry said, but she smiled up at him before she Disapparated. When Johannes returned to the sitting room, Malcolm had lit a fire in the fireplace and poured himself another glass of brandy. He was sitting in a wingback chair, shoes off, with his legs stretched out in front of him, warming his feet by the fire. “All right, there, Johannes?” Malcolm thought that it looked as though Johannes had washed his face. “Aye.” Johannes picked up the bottle of brandy, looked at it, shrugged, then poured himself a small amount. “I asked Multry to make us some coffee. It should be here in a few minutes.” “Good. She makes good coffee. The coffee at Hogwarts always tasted to me as though they thought it should be tea,” Johannes said, pronouncing his English especially carefully. He made a face. “I taught my own house-elf, however, how coffee should be made and how it should taste, and I would have a strong cup before breakfast.” “Aye, Gertrude always complains about the coffee, too.” “So, for what did you wish me ‘loose and lucid’?” Johannes asked. “In retrospect, it sounds not so very friendly.” “Ah, well . . .” The coffee and spice biscuits arrived, saving Malcolm from responding to the question. Malcolm poured them each a cup, and Johannes added a liberal amount of cream to his before he passed the pitcher to Malcolm. Malcolm put a little brandy in his coffee, then added the cream and stirred. “You seem happy here, Johannes,” Malcolm said, taking a sip of the hot coffee. “Yes, I am. It was a good decision to come here. I am grateful for your recommendation.” “I’m glad you’ve found it a good position for you. I have to say, though, that you seem rather . . . different tonight.” “Well, perhaps I had a wee too much brandy, and Lydia’s dancing was quite exhausting. It brought the drink to my head.” “Mmm, I could see that, but I noticed it before. From the moment you came down the stairs . . . have you . . . have you been doing anything unusual lately? Or taken any potions?” Johannes raised one eyebrow. “Potions?” “Aye, potions. Or performed unusual magic?” Johannes shook his head. “I have not taken a potion in many days, and the last was your grandmother’s own Headache Potion. The magic I do, I always have done. Did you think my magic felt odd? I was a little busy today, I Apparated many times, perhaps it is merely that I was tired. The brandy did feel a bit powerful.” He shrugged. “But do not worry yourself, Malcolm. I am not ill, I am sure.” “Nay, it wasn’t that.” Malcolm looked at him. “Your magic feels different, not tired, not weak, not . . . ill. Simply different.” Johannes shrugged again. “I cannot say why you felt that. You notice such things more than I.” “Let me tell you what more I felt, then: I felt Tyree magic in you, as clear as I felt it at Cadoc Terwilliger’s house, I felt Tyree magic in you, and not just Tyree magic, but Grandmother Siofre’s magic. Now tell me, Johannes, why might that be?” Johannes returned Malcolm’s unblinking gaze. “You sound disturbed by this, but do not be. It is no cause for concern. It is probably because she performed a ritual with me yesterday.” “Performed it with you? What sort of ritual? For the bere field? For the water garden? It didn’t feel like your plant and earth magic.” Johannes finished his cup of coffee and set it back down in his saucer. “Properly said, perhaps, she performed it upon me, not with me.” Johannes smiled. “We are kinsmen now, you and I, Malcolm.” “I don’t believe it,” Malcolm said flatly, leaning forward, pulling in his legs and tucking his feet under his chair. “I saw a mark on her arm, near her wrist . . . it led up her arm.” He shook his head. “She offered me to become a member of the Clan Tyree,” Johannes said. “How could I refuse? It is a generous offer, an opportunity not offered to many. Siofre wished to admit me to the wards—” “That does not require you to be a member of the clan or a member of the family,” Malcolm said sharply “As I was about to say, she offered me a choice. She explained that if I were a member of the clan, she could grant me full entry into the family wards, and not just to the modified wards, but it was clear to me that it was not merely entry into the wards that she was offering. She has given me . . . a place, a sense of belonging, a family.” Johannes blinked as tears welled in his eyes. “Siofre gave me a great honour, and I am humbled by her gift, but beyond that, she has helped me to find new roots.” “She hardly knows you, man!” “No, not true. Or true, but not completely true.” “You have worked here, what? Two months? Not even that. And before that, you were just some Hogwarts teacher to her. She didn’t know you any better than any other. Grandmother would not offer clan membership to a man she has known such a short time.” “What do you say with that? That I lie? I would show you my own arm, but your grandmother’s skills healed it and now there’s not a mark there. Wait! Here!” Johannes fumbled at the neck of his robes, trying to find the gold chain that hung beneath them. “Nay, I don’t say that you lie, Honnie,” Malcolm said. “I know you aren’t lying. I am sorry it sounded that way. And what I am about to say won’t sound much better, but I need to know what you did to have her bring you into the clan.” Johannes pulled out the artifact from his clan adoption and held it up for Malcolm. “Here, see. Look. This is blood and magic. I am of the Clan Tyree.” Malcolm raised his hand. “I see that. I can feel the magic. You needn’t prove it to me. But I still don’t understand. It seems . . . you must have done something. Said something.” Johannes shook his head and leaned back. “I did nothing. We talk. We are friends. She is . . . she is a remarkable witch. That says not enough of her. She is . . . she is to me sublime. I revere her.” Malcolm’s mouth opened, but he didn’t say anything. “I did nothing to her, Malcolm. I would not. Could not. I did not even know of this clan joining before she suggested it. I did not know such a thing was possible, nor that Siofre had some standing in the clan to do this. She invited me. What would you say if I had refused? An ungrateful wretch, I would be. Pitiable and ignorant.” “Honnie . . . yes, you would have been a fool to refuse,” Malcolm said slowly. “I do not understand Grandmother.” He raised his eyes to meet Johannes’s grey ones. “Or perhaps I do not understand you, either.” Johannes poured himself another glass of brandy. “You know that Siofre has come to trust me. You were surprised when she invited me to stay here, although it was very sensible and practical for me, and we all have benefited. I do see that this could seem a very short acquaintance to you, Malcolm, but I feel as though I have known her longer, and that I know her better than I do people whom I have known for years, and that the longer I know her . . . the longer I will wish to know her.” “Well . . . I suppose that you have had opportunity to come to know each other well, better than under other circumstances. And I’ll never deny that you are trustworthy—or I hope never to have to deny it—and that it is Grandmother Siofre’s best judgment to trust you as she does. There are few people of whom Gertrude ever speaks as highly as she does of you, my friend, and in the time I’ve known you, I’ve never had a reason to disagree with Trudie on that.” Malcolm leaned forward and picked up his brandy snifter. “To you, kinsman. Slàinte.” Johannes touched his own glass to Malcolm’s. “Slàinte mhor.” They each took a drink, then sat in silence a while, Malcolm turning his brandy snifter in his hands and looking into the deep amber liquid. “D’you know, Grandmother Siofre only admitted me to the family wards a couple years ago?” Malcolm shrugged. “I wasn’t around often . . . I suppose I didn’t need it. And before Herbert died, they were often at the McKenna place . . .” He shrugged again. “We’d better get to bed if we’re going to greet the dawn.” The two men stood. “Goodnight, Malcolm.” “’Night, Honnie. Schlaf gut.” “Du auch.” When the door closed behind Malcolm, Johannes stood and stared into the fireplace for several minutes, then he drank off the rest of his brandy, waved his wand to extinguish the lamps, and went to find his own bed.
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Post by MMADfan on Nov 6, 2010 14:48:00 GMT -5
Note: Two chapters posted today! This is the second one. Chapter Twenty-Three: Hill-Walkers’ Breakfast Malcolm rolled over onto his left side and groaned. He had opened the draperies on his east-facing windows before he’d gone to bed, and now he regretted it. Dawn light was shimmering gently through the many diamond panes of the windows, and he closed his eyes tightly against it. He remembered the hill-walking, though, and the glorious feeling of the cool, damp, fresh air entering his lungs, and the early morning sun making every blade, leaf, and petal stand out, bright and vibrant. Rolling over onto his back, Malcolm stretched, reaching his arms above his head and grasping the headboard as he stretched out his legs and wiggled his toes. Throwing off the covers, he bounded from the bed and, shivering slightly as the cool air hit his naked body, he crossed the room, unlatched the window, and leaned out. Frost glittered across the grounds, and Malcolm grinned. It was a clear, magnificent morning. By the time he and Johannes left for their walk, the sun would have brought the frost to a sparkling dew. He could tell the areas where Johannes had cast strong microclimate charms, protecting the gardens from the cold night air, since they lacked the frosty sheen of the rest of the grounds. Shivering even more from the cold breeze, Malcolm closed the window and Summoned his heavy, dark-green terrycloth robe from the wardrobe. Shoving his arms through the sleeves, he shucked on the slippers he kept in his room at the estate. He grabbed his kilt, a fresh shirt and waistcoat, and a pair of socks, and set off for a hot shower. The shower was not as hot as he would have liked, and the pressure kept changing—he would be glad when Siofre got the pipes on this side of the house taken care of—but it refreshed him, and he whistled happily as he trotted down the stairs to the morning room, hopeful that the house-elves already had breakfast underway. “Lydia’s tune stuck in your head, eh, laddie?” Siofre asked as he bounced into the room, his dark curls still damp. “Has it? Yeah, I guess it has! You’re up early.” Malcolm bent and gave his grandmother a peck on the cheek. “Aye. I have work to finish. Breakfast’s on the sideboard this morning. Multry spoils us when you’re in the house,” Siofre said. Malcolm turned to look at the sideboard. Bacon, both thin-sliced smoked and fried crispy, potato scones, hard rolls, sliced cheese, grilled tomato wedges, sauteed mushrooms, bangers, soft-cooked eggs—no doubt kept at the perfect state by house-elf magic—kippers, salty porridge, fruit, and even a covered dish of kedgeree. “How many people does Multry think she’s feeding?” Malcolm asked, helping himself to the kedgeree, some grilled tomatoes, and a bowl of sauteed mushrooms. “And do you often have kedgeree for breakfast?” “Never. Seemed a whim of hers. And when I asked, she said that Master Honnie and Little Collie would need a good breakfast for their hill-walking, especially after all they drank last night.” Malcolm opened his mouth to protest, but Siofre interrupted, holding up her hand. “I am merely reporting what Multry told me.” She looked at the kedgeree on his plate. “Seems the kedgeree wasn’t the odd dish I thought it was.” Malcolm shrugged. “Smelled good to me. And I’ve had it for breakfast before. Just never thought it would be something you’d ask for, that’s all.” He gestured toward her plate. “Besides, you’re eating kippers and porridge. Not much difference.” Siofre shook her head but didn’t contradict him. “And is that a pot of coffee?” Malcolm asked, sniffing. He poured a cup and smiled. “Good coffee, too.” “I canna drink coffee until at least ten in the morning,” Siofre said as she watched him pour cream into the cup. “I know, that’s what you’ve been telling me for fifty years.” He took a sip of his creamy coffee. “But early in the morning after a late night, it’s just the thing to clear out the cobwebs.” “So Lydia claims,” Siofre said drily, watching as Malcolm squeezed lemon over his fish and rice. “But the magister prefers coffee in the mornings, so we always have a pot now. I have become used to its aroma. Or inured to it.” “Mmm, great breakfast,” Malcolm said, swallowing a mouthful of kedgeree. “Really. I ought to stay the night more often.” “You’re always invited, always welcome, you know that.” “I know. I know you’d wanted me to move back here when I was finished with my contract at Hogwarts, too, but you know that I wanted to be close to Gertrude and have a place of my own to have her come whenever she can get away from the school.” Siofre nodded. “And I am very glad that you are so happy, Malcolm. This summer, you and Gertrude must come and stay for a few weeks. Or a week or two, anyway. However long you wish. I would enjoy getting to know her better. The magister speaks highly of her.” “The magister . . . you know, Grandmother, about Johannes . . . I know it was a disappointment when I didn’t move in here, and I know you miss having more family about, but things are changing now. Morgan and Fiona and their kids are here, Bert and Sally are coming back to Scotland, and whether they live here on the estate or not, they’ll be in and out all of the time.” “Aye, ’tis good to have more family near,” Siofre agreed, “and very good to have the wee bairns growing up here, too. The magister has begun a special garden for them, you know. Filled with plants they can safely put in their mouths, as wee ones are wont to do, and many surfaces, textures, and colours. He even has a tree picked out for them to have a fort in when they are older. This is a good place for them to grow up.” “Aye . . . the ‘magister’ does have plans for them—” “Wonderful plans for the entire estate. Sometimes, I think he looks out across the land and sees not what is there, but what he will bring into being. Has he asked you about helping with the greenhouse?” Malcolm shook his head. “Nay. He mentioned only that there will be one, and I helped him get acquainted with Caroline so he could order the glass from her.” “We’re doing it together, building the greenhouse. Morgan’s helping, although he’s not very good with things like that, and I think that Lachina plans to help—she’d be good with her metal-charming and Lapidomagic talents—and I’m going to ask Loran, Tell, Maire, and Hamish from the island. I haven’t asked your parents yet, but I think if we get enough people working on it, we can finish the structure in no time. Have you seen the plans? It is more than a greenhouse. Honnie’s designed a work of art. Cupolas, bays, a fountain right inside the greenhouse, and all sorts of things. It will be beautiful as well as practical.” “About Johannes, Grandmother . . .” “Aye?” Siofre pulled her small plate of fruit toward her. “What about Johannes? Was he ill last night after the apple brandy?” She frowned and started to push away from the table. “P’raps I should peek in on him, or have one of the house-elves check on him.” “Nay, nay, he wasn’t ill. Just a wee bit squiffy. But he seemed fine after we had some coffee.” “Ah, very good.” Siofre pulled closer to the table again. She looked at the fruit, then looked at the sideboard. “Tattie scone, Malcolm?” she asked as she Summoned one for herself. “Um, that would be good,” Malcolm said with a nod. He cut off a large knob of butter, put it on the still-warm scone, and let it melt. “Mmm, Shoolie did these, I think,” Siofre said, Summoning another fat round scone, “or it’s her recipe. Multry’s are more like ordinary griddle cakes. I could make a meal off of these.” “As I was saying, Grandmother, about Johannes—” “I’m sure he’ll be down soon. He’s never a late sleeper.” “But, Grandmother . . .” Malcolm sighed. “As I said, I know that you’ve felt that the Tyree estate was a bit empty, that our family here is . . . dispersed. But you know that we’re all really here for you. Whenever you need us.” “So you will help with the greenhouse. Very good,” Siofre said with a nod. “Aye, of course I will, but I’m talking about something different,” Malcolm said. “Well then, laddie, spit it out, dinna dance about it so!” “I’m not, that is, I am trying to. Why on earth did you join Johannes to the clan?” Siofre finished the last bite of her scone and looked at him. “Ah, he mentioned that, did he?” She licked a dribble of butter from her finger, then used her napkin. She picked up her teacup and took a sip. “Aye, after I asked him about it,” Malcolm replied. “I’m trying to understand it, Grandmother. But as much as I like Johannes—and I do—I don’t understand why you joined a near-stranger to the clan.” “’Tisn’t for you to understand or to judge, Malcolm,” Siofre said firmly. “But aside from whatever reason went into my inviting him to join the Tyrees, you must be able to think of some good reasons, yourself. You say you’re his friend. He is no stranger to you, laddie. Why would you invite him?” “I wouldn’t,” Malcolm began. He sighed and reached for his coffee cup. “All right, if I were to invite him to join the clan . . . I suppose he’s quite magically talented. His talents are in areas that might help the Tyrees. If he marries one, he could pass that on to his children, I suppose.” “An’ for him, though? D’you think we only bring in wizards or witches for the benefit of the clan?” “Nay. But usually it’s because they’re marrying a Tyree. It’s for the couple. But for Johannes . . . I suppose . . . he did say that he had a place now, a sense of belonging. He lost his family. He’s felt quite rootless, I think, especially after he decided not to return to Germany right away and decided instead to see what kind of life he could have here. I suppose that if I were to invite him, it might be to give him a sense of family here. And he is a decent man.” “Aye, and that’s faint praise you give the man, laddie,” Siofre admonished. Malcolm shrugged. “You might know him in ways I don’t, Grandmother. Talk about different sorts of things together. He is a fine wizard, but I don’t think it’s fair of you to . . . to let him think he has more of a home here than he does. Once his work here’s done, he still has the rest of his life to live, you know. It’s fine for now that he has a sense of belonging, but don’t let it become a crutch for him that keeps him from getting on with his life.” “Nay, never—though you are wrong about one thing. If ever he needs a home, the man has one here. He is of the Clan Tyree now, and he is my kin. ’Twas my blood and magic that brought him into the clan, and as long as I breathe, he is welcome here, and not as a mere guest. But you are right that Johannes mustn’t neglect his own life, however he may choose for it to proceed. So encourage him to visit you in Hogsmeade and to do all the things he may have done before he came here to live with us. He must remember all the options in life, the many opportunities he may have.” “It seemed to me last night as if you’d hired a general estate manager in Honnie, not just a gardener and Herbologist. That’s never anything I’d have thought him well-suited to, but it sounds as though he does have some good ideas to contribute.” “Aye, he does, and he has been doing more than planning gardens and planting vegetables and flowers. He’s going to manage the coppice again, and that’s not been done in twenty years, at least, he’s bringing all the orchards back into good shape—some have been neglected for decades, but he’s hopeful for them—and he even has plans for the bogs eventually, everything from medicinal plants to Droobleberries. He has helped with a number of projects that are not even tangentially related to the gardens, and always to our benefit. His work—and his value, both to me and to the estate—goes far beyond the four corners of his contract.” “If he stays on here, if he’s here more than the matter of months you’d originally planned,” Malcolm said, “you might want to have him in his own house somewhere on the grounds. There are a few other than the lodge—and then there are those wee cottages near the northern edge of the estate by the sea—he might like to have a real place of his own, or at least, if it’s not his, at least, it’s a house he’s not sharing with others.” “Those wee cottages by the sea, laddie, they’ve not been tended since you were in school, I think, and not a soul has lived there in even longer. If there’s a one of them with a roof left, I’d be surprised. Nay . . . and as for any of the other houses . . . we shall see.” Malcolm shrugged. “As you wish. I’m sure that when this living arrangement becomes cramped for him, he’ll find some way of . . . accommodating it or changing his situation.” “The magister is aye welcome to have guests and to make whatever arrangements he deems appropriate for them—in consultation with Lydia and Multry, of course—and he knows this.” “Speaking of arrangements, Lydia said that Trudie and I are to have the Capercaillie Suite this weekend.” “Aye—unless you’d prefer to share your usual bedroom, but I thought that a wee bit small, and you might prefer the suite.” Malcolm quirked a grin. “So, no separate bedrooms this time.” “It seemed a pointless waste of a bed unless your witch wanted them for the sake of discretion. Have you consulted her?” “Nay—but I will ask her, and in time for Lydia to change arrangements if for some peculiar reason Trudie wants separate bedrooms.” “I believe she plans to put Lachina in your room, an you’ve no objections to that.” Malcolm shook his head. “She already told me. I don’t keep much here, anyway, and the elves will move all my personal things, my robe and whatever, to the suite. It’s fine for her to use that room—after all, I have a very good reason to want the suite, instead!” He grinned. “If ye both like it, then ’tis yours whenever you and Gertrude visit. Just tell Lydia. And if you don’t mind giving up your boyhood room, you could always stay in the Capercaillie suite, e’en when Gertrude canna be here with you.” “That sounds fine. In fact, if I stay again tonight, I may just move over there right away. The plumbing’s bound to be better on that side of the house.” “Brian will be working on the plumbing next week, but I dinna know an he’ll be done before everyone descends on the estate. What problem did you have? Skretchin?” “Nay, no ghoulish sounds this time. Just the pressure wasn’t good and it seemed that the hot water got cold again before it reached me.” Siofre shook her head and frowned. “That should not be.” “I can see if there’s anything I can do for it before I leave, if you want.” “Nay, that’s fine. Honnie’s not complained at all about the water in his suite, and although Lachina will be arriving in a couple days, she can use a different bathroom if that one isn’t working yet. We’ll cope until Brian is here.” “And Lydia?” “She’s fine. She has developed her own solution,” Siofre said discretely. “She uses a bathroom on the other side of the house when she wants a hot bath?” Malcolm asked with a grin. “Aye.” Siofre returned his grin. “Not Honnie’s?” Malcolm asked, eyebrows raised. “Heavens, no! Where do you get your ideas, laddie?” “I don’t know—it just popped into my head and out of my mouth,” Malcolm said. “She does seem very fond of Honnie.” “Aye, she is. He is good to her.” “I hope she doesn’t become silly about him, though,” Malcolm said. “Not at her age. I’m sure that Honnie would be kind about it, but it could be embarrassing for her.” Siofre raised her eyebrow. “I am older than Lydia, remember, so do not bring up her age. And she has a warm and open nature, which I am sure that Johannes appreciates. She is unlikely to embarrass herself in any way. They have become friends.” “Lydia does know how to loosen up and have a good time,” Malcolm said appreciatively. “I think living with her is loosening you up, too, Grandmother. You seem more enthusiastic about the ceilidh this year than last—all these guests, a four-day party! You’re becoming positively sociable.” Siofre laughed and shook her head. “Ah, well, this is an easier year for me than last, and I thought that with Murdoch’s birthday on Friday, we could have a party for him on Saturday, and it seemed sensible to combine the bonfire night with his party and give the family a few days of celebration.” “You were missing Herbert last year,” Malcolm said. “I still miss him,” Siofre said softly. “And Mother. Especially . . .” “That’s right, she and Murdoch shared a birthday. I remember when Murdoch was little, how he loved sharing a birthday with Grammy Bridget.” “Aye, I remember,” Siofre said with a smile. “Anyway, most of the planning, I’ve left to Lydia and the house-elves. The case with Butterworth and his winged horses does not come at an opportune time, but I can give him a good defence, so it’s a worthy use of my time.” “Don’t you know someone else who can do it? Point them in the right direction and let them have at it?” Malcolm asked. “Then you could come out with us today, too—at least come on our picnic for lunch.” Siofre shook her head. “Nay, I canna. There’s another factor, one I plan to take advantage of. The neighbour who reported the Butterworths’ horses, it was Drusus.” “Drusus? You mean Drusus Prince, Charles’s son?” He asked. When Siofre nodded, he said, “He’s one miserable son-of-a-Crup. Does Lydia know?” “Aye, I told her last night. She said not to treat him any differently than I would anyone else.” “Poor Lydia. It’s hard to believe such a sweet lady came from such a nasty pureblood family.” “Lydia?” Johannes’s voice came from the doorway. “Is she all right?” Siofre smiled up at him. “Oh, aye, she is fine, Honnie. Dinna worry. ’Twas one of her relatives we were speaking of.” “Ah, good. Lydia is a sweet witch, as you say, Malcolm,” Johannes said, picking up a plate and helping himself to rolls, thinly sliced bacon, and cheese. Siofre was already pouring his coffee for him when he pulled out a chair and took a seat at her right, across from Malcolm. “She seems to have little contact with her relatives.” “She doesn’t,” Malcolm said, pushing the cream pitcher toward him. “I actually think they’re one reason that Bert and Sally were gone for so long, why they left in the first place. Louisa picked up her husband’s family’s airs.” “Ach, laddie, it’s not that simple, but you are right, Sally and Louisa’s relationship was strained when Sally and Bertrand left. And this hearing won’t help the Tyrees and Princes become any closer.” “Hearing?” Johannes asked, confused. He broke open a roll and folded some ham and cheese into it. “What hearing?” “The Butterworth case,” Malcom replied. “The miserable neighbour is Drusus Prince.” “Ah, Eileen’s father. That is unfortunate,” Johannes said with a sad shake of his head. “Poor girl.” “Aye—not that she’s much better, from what I saw of her at Hogwarts.” “She is not so bad,” Johannes said. “She is sad . . . withdrawn.” “That’s what you saw; what I saw was a haughty girl who wouldn’t speak to anyone she considered lesser than her—including Mudbloods—” Siofre reached over and rapped his knuckles lightly with her teaspoon in a gesture of reproval. “That word is forbidden in this house, an’ you know it.” “I wasn’t calling anyone that, Grandmother! I was demonstrating what Prince thought of so many of her classmates. You know that I’d never call anyone that.” “It was an unnecessary use of the word, Malcolm. The words we choose to use are important; they can shape our thoughts and the thoughts of others— and how others perceive you, as well, laddie,” Siofre admonished, though gently. “I paired Eileen with a Muggleborn in her fourth and fifth years,” Johannes said, avoiding the familial squabble. “They did not become friends, but I never saw any tension between them. They both did equally well. Eileen did not attempt to sabotage her classmate’s work—and I have seen some students try to do that, for whatever reasons they may have.” “Hmph.” Malcolm shrugged. “She still isn’t a pleasant girl. And I don’t think she knows anything about how to have fun. You should have seen the glower on her face whenever I tried to introduce a little levity into the classes. You’d think that someone’d told her once that a smile would crack her face, and she believed them.” “You’ll need more than those sandwiches, Honnie,” Siofre said, changing the subject. “I think Malcolm will be leading you on quite the ramble today. Have some porridge. It will stick with you.” Johannes looked dubious, but got up from the table and ladled a spoonful of porridge into a bowl. “Grandmother Siofre would not look askance if you added sugar,” Malcolm said with a laugh. “Would you Grandmother?” “He may eat it in whatever fashion he prefers. Or have some of that curried rice and fish you had,” Siofre said with a thinly disguised expression of disgust. Malcolm laughed. “It was good. In fact, I’m going to have some more. You should try some,” Malcolm said, standing and bringing his dish back over to the sideboard. “Nay, I am glad Multry made it for you to enjoy, though.” Malcolm sat down and ate a forkful. “Mmm-mm! Here, have some. Just try it. Then you can dislike it all you want!” He held out his fork to her. “It’s got some very nice haddock in it!” he wheedled. As Johannes looked on, smiling, Siofre took the fork and brought it to her mouth, a dubious expression on her face. She sniffed. Then she tasted it. She chewed, swallowed, and handed Malcolm his fork back. “Well?” Malcolm asked. “I would not choose to eat it for breakfast, but it was not entirely disgusting,” Siofre said. “Maybe it’s like coffee,” Malcolm said with a grin, “best after ten in the morning!” Johannes chuckled, evidently having heard Siofre’s opinion of drinking coffee first thing on waking. “I think we should bring some of these rolls and the cheese with us,” Johannes said, “and a few bananas.” “Good idea, Honnie. It will help us to last until Lydia’s picnic!” “I am ready to leave as soon as you have finished your kedgeree,” Johannes said. “So’m I,” Malcolm said. He quickly finished the last bit of his breakfast. “Ready right now.” The two wizards stood, and Malcolm bent and kissed Siofre’s cheek. “Have a good day, Grandmother! Save Butterworth’s bacon!” “Do not exhaust the magister, lad!” “Nay, he’ll be fine. We’ll have a grand time, right, Magister?” Malcolm asked, turning to Johannes. “Aye,” Johannes agreed with a nod. “It is a beautiful day. I hope you do not spend the entire day indoors,” he added to Siofre. Siofre smiled up at him. “I will get out for a while after lunch, I am sure.” “Come have lunch with us, Siofre,” Johannes said impulsively. “You must eat. A picnic after a hard morning’s work, that would be a good reward for you. Please. Bitte. We would enjoy your company.” “I dinna know . . .” “Please join us for lunch,” Johannes repeated, taking Siofre’s hand lightly in his. “You can return to your work as soon as you wish, but give us the pleasure of your company for a little while.” Siofre smiled and shook her head. “All right, Honnie. I will, unless I am in the midst of something. Come find me when you’re ready for lunch. I’ll probably be in my study or in the library.” “Very good.” He bowed and released her hand. “I will see you later today, then.” As the two wizards left the morning room, Malcolm said, “How’d you do that, man? Is it the accent? The bow? All those Continental manners? I wanted her to join us, and she just ignored me.” He shook his head. “And I thought I was the charmer around here—are you muscling in? Must be that accent. Aye, the accent.” Johannes’s laughter echoed back into the morning room, and Siofre grinned.
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Hogwarts Duo
First Year
Does it get any better than ADMM?
Posts: 53
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Post by Hogwarts Duo on Nov 7, 2010 19:30:21 GMT -5
Two chapters, now that's a treat for a Sunday night!!!
I do believe Malcolm is a bit jealous of Johannes's place in his Grandmother's attention span at the moment, or at least he's picking up on little things that are causing him some distress. I loved that Malcolm asked her to the picnic but she only consented when Johannes asked her. awwww.
It was good that they had the conversation about adding Honnie to the wards, too. I don't think he's put all the pieces together about Siofre's feelings but I have a feeling it won't be long. tee hee.
Thanks for the updates!!!
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Post by MMADfan on Nov 9, 2010 15:33:00 GMT -5
Two chapters, now that's a treat for a Sunday night!!! I do believe Malcolm is a bit jealous of Johannes's place in his Grandmother's attention span at the moment, or at least he's picking up on little things that are causing him some distress. I loved that Malcolm asked her to the picnic but she only consented when Johannes asked her. awwww. It was good that they had the conversation about adding Honnie to the wards, too. I don't think he's put all the pieces together about Siofre's feelings but I have a feeling it won't be long. tee hee. Thanks for the updates!!! You're right: Malcolm hasn't quite twigged to the nature of Siofre's growing feelings for Johannes, or to those of Johannes for Siofre. It's just so beyond his imaginings, it hasn't occurred to him that she has anything beyond maternal feelings for him, or that Johannes's go beyond gratitude and admiration. I'm going to update early -- today, in fact -- so I hope you enjoy the new chapter.
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