Disavowals

Chapter Five: Cadenza

Running away from home, long-lost relatives and death threats aside, Theo came to the conclusion on Thursday night that he didn't really have any excuses for not finishing off his homework. He'd got most of it done, as an excuse to tell his cousins to go away, but the long Transfiguration essay remained. So on Friday morning he spread his notes out on the kitchen table and got down to work. Callum was on the early morning shift at the WWN, or so Monique had told him before she left for work; he was supposed to be back in the early afternoon. She had also said something about Jan popping in for her keys, whatever that meant. Theo toyed with the idea of turning on the wireless to see if he heard Callum on anything, but decided it wasn't worth the effort of getting up. The kitchen table wasn't very big - some pieces of parchment were perilously close to the edge - but Theo liked it better in the kitchen. It caught the morning sun. Perhaps, too, it was because he'd spent half his childhood building forts under the massive old wooden table that graced the kitchen at home.

He had managed to write a whole two paragraphs when he heard the sound of the back door, over to his right, opening.

IT ISN"T LOCKED?

Theo was snatching for his wand as the door pushed open, ready to run. He was half-way out of his seat when a toddler in Muggle clothing tottered around the half-open door. She - he - it - Theo wasn't sure - stopped, grabbing the door, when it saw Theo.

"Mummy, 's a person inna kitchen!" it announced loudly.

"Don't be silly, Lee, Grandma and Granddad aren't - what the hell are you doing here?"

The speaker had pushed the door fully open. She was a young witch with light brown hair hanging in a plait over one shoulder; eyes that matched Callum O'Neill's sharp grey ones stared at him suspiciously . She had a key in one hand and a green-coloured stain on the shoulder of her dark blue robes. Theo couldn't imagine anything further from a Death Eater. He sat down with an audible thump.

"Ah...my Transfiguration summer assignment," he said, trying to work out what was going on. He'd had quite enough of strange women, and this was the last straw.

"I can see that," the witch replied sharply. "But why are you doing it in my parents' kitchen?"

Theo pulled out the list of relatives recited to him last night from under the esoteric Transfiguration facts cluttering his brain. "I don't suppose you'd be Janet - Janet Hayle, by any chance?"

"And what's that got to do with the price of fish?"

Lee - Leonora, Janet's two-year-old, Theo seemed to remember - was toddling with what seemed to be great effort towards him. He regarded her uncertainly.

Leonora clung to the table leg beside him, nearly knocking herself to the ground.

"Person inna kitchen!" she announced proudly.

"Yes, darling, I can see that, but he hasn't told us who he is." Janet Hayle's tone was soothing, but her eyes were sharp.

Theo, belatedly, rose from his seat. "You're probably not going to believe this, but actually I'm your cousin Theodore. I believe we met when I was eighteen months old, but I'm afraid I don't remember it."

Janet's jaw dropped. "Theodore?" She looked him up and down. "Hmph. Last time I saw you, you weren't much taller than Lee here. What happened?"

"Adolescence?" Theo suggested. He couldn't remember being that short. "Height does seem to run in the family."

"For everyone except me, " his cousin agreed ruefully. She wasn't particularly tall, Theo noted. Her eyes narrowed again. "You still haven't said why you're here. The last thing I'd heard, we weren't ever going to see you again because your father...didn't hold with our sort. That was just after Aunt Addie died, and I was thirteen then. Why are you here now?"

Theo suddenly realised how absurdly trivial the explanation was.

"It's rather a long story, but the short version is that I ran away from home."

"Why?"

Theo hesitated, then shrugged. "I like my beauty sleep, and Death Eaters always seem to be working nights."

"I see." Janet folded her arms and regarded him critically. Leonora, unnoticed, was heading determinedly past Theo for parts unknown. He contemplated trying to stop her, but decided against it. "Pressure to follow in your father's footsteps, that sort of thing?"

"That sort of thing." It was easier to just agree.

"Mum offered to help look after you when Aunt Addie died, you know, but your father wouldn't have any of it," his cousin said abruptly. "I was disappointed. You were cute when you were a baby. Well, except for the time you threw up on me."

Theo had no idea what to say to that. "Oh. Did I?"

"Oh yes." Janet grinned wickedly. "It was the only forewarning I got about children before I had my own, so I remembered."

"Yes, you've got some-" Theo snapped his mouth shut. Perhaps mentioning the green stain was not entirely diplomatic.

Janet sighed. "Let me guess. Spinach somewhere on my robes?"

"Uh, yes. On your right shoulder." He heard a giggle behind him, and turned to see Leonora standing in the kitchen doorway.

"Mummy! Door!"

Janet tsked in exasperation. "Lee, love, come back here!"

Leonora pouted. It put Theo unfairly in mind of Terry. "Wanna stay!"

"Yes, dear, I know, but we're just going to pick up my keys and go. We're not staying today."

Theo dragged another memory out. "I think your mother mentioned they were on the windowsill. Although I have to ask - where did you get that key, then?"

Janet grinned. "Mum and Dad have been hiding their spare key in the hedge since I was six. Not so hard to find." She blissfully ignored Leonora's darkening face and walked over to scan the kitchen windowsill. A breeze was billowing the curtains through the half-open window and she had to push it aside.

"Aha, here we are!" She picked up a large bunch of keys with a yellow-and-black key ring "Can't believe I left them here."

"Mummy, wanna stay!" Leonora wailed.

Janet bustled over to pick up the now red-faced toddler. "Come on, we're going now. We can't leave your brother in the car for too long, he'll probably pick the lock." She nodded at Theo. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got to run." Leonora was stiff and unhelpful in her arms. "Hogwarts doesn't start for another week or so, does it? I might pop in during the weekend."

"Ah - right. Okay," Theo said.

"You must catch up with Liam and Cat while you're staying with Mum and Dad," she chattered on. "They'd love to see you again. Tell Mum I picked these up, will you?" she added, brandishing the keys.

"Certainly."

She smiled. "Wonderful. 'Bye!" Lugging a still grumpy Leonora out the door, she shut it behind her. Theo heard the lock click.

He sat - or rather collapsed - back down into his chair. More relatives. More relatives who knew far more about him than he did about them. Liam and Cat - that had to be Liam and Catriona O'Neill, Monique and Callum's two other children. Hadn't Monique mentioned something about Liam being an Auror?

Theo looked at his Transfiguration work, got up and shut the window, sat down again, got up to fetch his pen-knife, sat down again, got up to make a cup of tea, and decided while the kettle was boiling that maybe his mind wasn't on the job. Accordingly, he pulled out some spare parchment and began a letter to Anne. That might be calming.

Dear Anne,

I should have written to you sooner, but I was rather overwhelmed. A lot has happened since I saw you - at least, I've been bombarded with relatives. Two days ago I thought I had no family who would speak to me. Now I've got an aunt, an uncle, three cousins, a cousin-by-marriage, and two cousins once removed. It's startling to say the least.
I just met...

*

Anne's reply arrived that Sunday evening, borne by an overly affectionate Gwaihir. The speckled owl flapped in the kitchen window and tried to land on Theo's shoulder.
"Arrgh!" Theo jumped. "Stupid bird, not on me! Ouch!"

Gwaihir had pecked his ear. Theo thought it was meant by way of greeting, but he wasn't sure.

Callum, who was doing something with rice, laughed.

"Doesn't like you very much, does he?"

"He does normally - for Merlin's sake, get off - no, the windowsill, you silly thing - hold still -"

Theo put down the potato-peeler he was holding and reached for the letter on the owl's leg. He recognised Anne's handwriting; what surprised him was the other letter Spellotaped to the first, addressed in Terry's spiky script.

"There we go. No. The meat's for the curry, not for you. Go and find Bronwyn, she might be happy to see you."

Gwaihir hooted at him cheerfully, then flapped off into the house. Theo examined the letters for a second, then laid them on the sill. He could read when he was done.

"Is that from the friend you stopped over with?" his uncle inquired, Summoning the butter over to himself .

"Yes," Theo said absently, picking up the peeler again. He enjoyed helping in the kitchen. He could see that it would seem very tedious if you'd done it day in and out all your life, but for the moment it was a novelty.

"Very persistent owl she's got," Callum said, putting the saucepan on the stove.

"Gwaihir? Yes. I think her family treat it too much like a pet, and now it keeps trying to perch on everyone."

"Gwaihir?" exclaimed his uncle. "You're not serious!"

"It's from a Muggle book or something isn't it?" Theo said, picking up the last carrot.

His uncle was laughing helplessly. "Oh, that's classic. You should know where it's from. Didn't I see you reading Lord of the Rings yesterday?"

"Is that where it's from? Anne never told me. She just said the name was from a book, she was only eleven when she chose it, and I wasn't allowed to ask."

"It gets worse," his uncle said cheerfully, starting to chop up some cabbage. "Back in the sixties and seventies lots of Muggles named their children after characters from the book. One of my cousins on my mum's side is called Galadriel. Luckily her parents moved off that before they had more children."

"That's a truly horrible thing to do to a child," Theo agreed.

"She's reconciled to it now, she just calls herself Gail. Mind you, people do equally nasty things in the name of family tradition."

"Don't I know it," muttered Theo, beheading a carrot more savagely than necessary.

"Oh, yes, you didn't escape, did you?"

"You know what my middle name is?" Theo asked in the tone of someone pleading to be told it isn't true.

His uncle nodded, a broad grin on his face. "It could have been worse."

"Worse than Valdemar?" Theo made a face. He didn't even like saying it. Stupid family traditions about stupid Norse relatives. Stupid, antiquated, ridiculous family traditions. Whoever had come up with that one should have been hexed.

"I'm sure there's something. Although I remember seeing you for the first time - you weren't a very big baby - and thinking that you had a lot of long names for such a small child."

Theo picked up the last carrot.

"I wouldn't have thought my mother would have...well...Aunt Monique said she thought my father was right." That wasn't what he wanted to say, at all, but the right words were difficult to find.

"I only saw you once or twice. It was Monique your mother kept in touch with, not me." Theo looked up to see his uncle scraping the cabbage into the pot with the rest of the curry. "You're right, she didn't like me much at all. I was honestly surprised she turned up to the wedding. That was well before she met your father, though. Pass the carrots?"

Theo handed the chopping board over, thinking carefully. "But...she could make herself believe it was all right to keep seeing Aunt Monique and her children, because it was her sister. And even if your kids did have a Muggle grandparent, they were her nieces and nephew, so she could pretend it wasn't the same. Of course they weren't the people the Dark Lord had declared war on. They were family. It was different. But you weren't blood family, so you were just some - some half-blood."

Callum raised an eyebrow. "You pinned that down well for someone who barely met Adrienne."

"I...I've done that myself," Theo admitted reluctantly.

"Done what?"

"Pretended. If you just tell yourself that the person - that they're an exception, it's different, you can almost forget what's really going on."

"Doublethink," his uncle said mysteriously.

"Huh?"

"Never mind." Callum shook his head, putting the lid on the curry. "I always did wonder what your mother would have done if someone made her face up to reality."

"I'm sure she understood what was going on perfectly well," Theo defended. "No one's ever said she was stupid!"

"So you'd rather that your mum knew what your dad did and believed it, or that she made herself forget?"

"She's dead," said Theo, almost throwing the knife into the sink. "She's dead and I don't know. Everyone else in my family knows what they're doing so why bother thinking she might have understood?" He snatched Anne's letter off the windowsill. "Do you need any more help?"

"No, we're all done. Thanks."

"It was nothing," Theo said savagely, stalking out of kitchen.

"It'll be ready in about twenty minutes!" Callum called after him.

Theo ignored him as he headed for his room. Callum sounded...sympathetic. And sympathy wasn't what Theo wanted at all. Callum and Monique were trying to be family and they weren't. Just because they'd known him as a toddler, what did that mean? Just because they'd known his mother didn't mean they knew him. So they should damn well stop pretending to.

He caught the door to his room just before it slammed.

*

After Theo's whirlwind visit, Anne suddenly found life at home very dull. It wasn't that anything had actually changed. But the Muggle world seemed faded, now, plodding along in the same mundane way it always had. The papers talked about distant battles, as they always did, and meaningless politics. Eddie mooched around the house, went into town with his friends, watched television. Her parents worked. Terry was three places at once, packing a summer's worth of visits and telephone calls into the last week of the holidays. Nicola picked out tunes on the piano and tried to persuade her older siblings to play with her. It was normal, the quintessence of normal, and...it wasn't her world anymore.

Her world was racked by war and uncertainty, but every day the prospect of returning to Hogwarts and magic grew more and more appealing. In her memory, Hogwarts seemed more vivid, more colourful, more lively, than home had ever been. It was just that nobody at home - with the exception of Terry - understood things. They could tease her about Theo or ask, haltingly, "what's going on", but the magic was beyond them. Between Eddie's resentment, Nicola's hopes, her mother's quiet worry, her father's confusion, Anne felt lost.

Only a week, she told herself desperately. One more week and I'm back.

*

She was practising netball in the back garden - in a rather desultory fashion, it had to be said - when Eddie found her.

"What are you doing?" he asked, leaning against the side of the house.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Anne replied, taking careful aim. The ball bounced off the edge of the hoop. "Damn!"

Eddie caught the ball easily and tossed it back to her. "I haven't seen you out here for ages."

"Don't be silly," Anne objected, potting the next one neatly, "I'm sure I was out here...well...last summer, at least." She moved forward to retrieve the ball.

"Last summer!" Eddie laughed. "See? You're never at home to do anything like you used to. Have you even noticed that Mum pulled out the rose bush, or Nic's growing radishes in the corner over there?"

"Of course I have! Nic showed me when I got back from Hogwarts."

"Anne..." Eddie sighed, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I dunno. It used to be you and me all the time, and then you went away to Hogwarts, and now - it's always you and Terry. Or you're up in your room, writing to your friends or something. You're just not around anymore, even when you're at home."

Anne folded her arms around the ball. "Well...neither are you. You've been off at your friends' places half these holidays, or on the phone, or in town. We're getting older, that's all."

"I'm getting older. You're getting different."

"That's what happens, I suppose." When had Eddie got this old? The last time Anne had looked, he'd been ten. Twelve, at most. "It's not on purpose."

"It's not on purpose, but...you're turning into one of them."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Eddie shrugged. "A wizard. Yeah, I know, you think I'm just angry about not being one, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong. Even your friends think we're weird, or...not as good as you are. Your boyfriend does."

"You can't say things like that about Theo. You don't even know-"

"Yeah, I can. I know, I heard you and Mum talking about his family and all that, and I'm sure he's way nicer than they are or whatever, but that doesn't make him perfect. I mean, he can't be all that bad if Terry likes him, 'cause she'd pick up if he was nasty, but I don't have to like him because you do."

"I'm not asking you to like him, Eddie, I'm asking you to not make generalisations about things you don't understand."

"You don't want me to understand. It's easier to say that I'm the one with the problem, isn't it? Face it, Anne. You're different, too. I mean, of course you will be, because you spend most of your time with people like you. It's not bad, just - stop pretending nothing's changed."

"Lots of things haven't," Anne said quietly. "Lots of things won't."

Is that a fact or a promise?

"Like what?"

She tossed the netball up in the air and caught it again. "Like...you can't stop me shooting goals, even if you try."

Eddie straightened up to his full height. When had he got that tall? "Oh yeah?"

Anne shot before he had a chance to move, and by supreme luck got it in. She caught the ball on the rebound. "Yup."

Grinning, Eddie moved in front of the hoop. "Try that one again."

Anne laughed, and circled closer.

Maybe I'm right, after all.

*

She met her mother in the kitchen when she went in to scrounge for lunch.

"Oh, hi, Mum. I forgot the library closes early on Mondays."

"You didn't forget, it changed. It used to be Wednesdays." Her mother was filling the electric jug. "Cup of tea?"

"No thanks." Anne opened the fridge. Cheese, celery, left over curry...hmm. Curry. She went to fetch a plate. "When did that change?"

Her mother frowned. "Hmm. I'm not sure if I remember. About last October?"

Anne blinked. "That's...that's quite a long time ago."

Mary Fairleigh shrugged. "Well, with you at school nine months out of twelve, you do miss a few things around here."

"I wish I didn't," Anne said, scooping curry on to the plate. "I've only just realised how much I am missing out on."

"You're not missing out on anything," her mother said firmly. "You're exactly where you should be. You've got a talent the rest of us don't, and it's worth having."

"Lots of people don't think I am," Anne commented quietly, opening the microwave.

"Your brother -"

"I wasn't talking about Eddie." She closed the door, and punched in fifty seconds. "I was talking about the Death Eaters."

"Ah." Her mother paused, holding a tea bag over her mug. "From everything I've heard, they're not worth listening to."

"No. No, they're not." Anne leaned back against the bench. "Do you miss the Martins, Mum? I just remembered - if it was any normal summer, Hector would be over here playing with Nic, or Terry would be visiting Elise. I might be babysitting the pair of them and Andy tonight. It's been a year."

"It has, too." The jug was boiling, but her mother ignored it, folding her arms against herself. "Yes, I miss them. They were friends, and they helped us understand your world. I wonder how Andy's doing?"

"She'll be three now, won't she?" Anne said. "Talking a lot more, I suppose. Learning her alphabet. Do you think she'd remember us?"

"Probably not," her mother told her honestly. "Perhaps you could send her a letter - well, for her aunt and uncle to read to her, anyway."

"Perhaps I will. Or Nic could." The microwave beeped, and Anne reached across to open it. "What have I missed out on this year, Mum? All the things I don't know because I was away and I didn't ask. Tell me."

"I can't think of anything that we wouldn't have written to you about, to tell the truth."

"I suppose not." Anne stared down at the plate she was holding. "Things seem very quiet, that's all."

"Do they? I think it's been quite a busy year, myself. It sounded fairly quiet at your school, though."

" Busy here, and busy for - busy at Hogwarts are different things. Have I even told you about the DA?"

"About the what?" asked her mother, looking blank. "Evidently not."

Anne pulled open the cutlery drawer. "I will, then."

*

Going up to her room after lunch to play her flute - she had slipped a bit - Anne heard the unmistakable sound of Nicola on the piano emanating from the living room. She went in there, instead.

"Are you playing the piano, Nic?"

"I'm playing Star Wars," Nic told her proudly. Her face fell. "I can't remember all of it. Do you know it, Anne?"

"I'll see what I can do. Hop off the stool for a minute?"

Nic obliged, and Anne flipped it open to get at the music stored in there. She was sure she'd seen..."Here we go." It was a copy of the Star Wars theme tune, something she'd played on the flute a long time ago, and relegated to the piano stool long since.

"I can't read that!" Nic objected.

"I'll show you how to play it," Anne promised, slipping the sheet onto the music rack.

"Move over."

"'Kay." Nic wriggled to the edge of the piano stool. "How do you read music, Anne?"

Anne smiled. "The same way you read a book, except it's a different alphabet."

"Oh." Nic frowned. "It takes ages to learn to read. Is there a faster way?"

"Good things take time, Nic. Here, watch my fingers."

Anne played the so-familiar tune once, slowly, and then a little faster. "Do you think you can repeat that?"

Nicola put her hands carefully on the keys. "Maybe." She stumbled a few times, but got through the entire tune.

"You're so lucky, Nic, you know that?" Anne said.

"Why am I lucky? You're lucky. You're magic."

"You heard that and played it. D'you know how long it takes me to memorise things? I have to work at music. You can just do it."

"But it's not hard," Nic protested. "Can't you hear it?"

"Not like you can." Anne looked at the sheet music. How old had she been when she got it? Eight? Nine? "When are you going to start proper lessons?"

"Dad said I can when school starts again." Nic wound her fingers in her ponytail. "That's soon, isn't it? You're going away again."

"Don't sound so sad. It's not for - well, I'll be back at Christmas."

"It's not really long anymore, but it was. Maybe your friend Theo can visit again in the holidays, and he can show me some tunes he knows."

"Maybe he can." Anne wished she could have back Nicola's uninterrupted vision of the future. "Do you remember Hector and Elise, Nic?"

"Sort of." Nic squinted at the keys. "They died ages ago, didn't they? I miss Hector. He was fun to play with."

"Yeah. Yeah, you played a lot with Hector."

People die, wars are fought, Dark Lords rise and fall, and life goes on for kids like Nicola because it always has, so it always will.

I hope it does.

*

Her father came up to her room while she was playing the flute to call her down for dinner.

"Anne! Dinner's on the table."

Anne broke off, secretly pleased to have an excuse to stop midway through her scales.

"Okay, I'll be down in a minute."

Her father leant against the door frame as she started to put her music away. "How's your day been, love?"

"Pretty normal. Anything interesting happen at work?"

Jonathan Fairleigh laughed. "Nothing interesting happens to accountants, I thought you knew that."

"Nothing interesting happens to Hufflepuffs, either." Anne sighed. "Or at least, it didn't use to."

"Missing school, are you?"

Anne bit her lip, jiggling the top part of her flute. It had been getting stuck a lot, lately. "A little bit, yes."

"I suppose you would be." Her father shook his head. His brown hair was definitely thinner than it had been - had she noticed that the last time she was home? "You're growing up so fast. Magic, boys..."

"One swallow does not a summer make, Dad." Anne snapped the flute case shut. "Anyway, Theo's not a - I mean, he's not just 'a boy', he - oh, never mind."

"Such a shame I didn't get to meet him."

"Come off it, Dad. There's no way you could play the scary father."

"For my precious eldest daughter?"

Anne swatted him as they walked down the stairs. "Believe me, you wouldn't scare Theo. You're a Muggle. I mean - that is - he knows much scarier people than you."

She glanced guiltily at her father, but he only smiled. "In my experience, any father is frightening to a teenage boy, no matter how mild-mannered they really are."

Anne felt a flash of irritation at the joke. Surely Dad understood? "Well, yes, but you'd only seem like you were going to mercilessly torture him. Theo knows plenty of people who actually will, if they get the chance."

Her father chuckled. "Don't be so sure."

Anne halted outside the kitchen door. "Dad? That wasn't a joke."

His face grew shadowed. "I know, love. But sometimes you have to make these things into jokes, if you want to deal with them."

"Oh." Anne swallowed. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"Dealing with it."

"Ah." He pushed open the door. "It's the least we can do."

*

"Anne?" came a voice from her doorway. She looked up from the essay on her desk. The last one of these holidays, fortunately, but she didn't know what she'd do for the next week. Wait. Think.

"Come in, Terry," she told her sister. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing really." Terry entered, shutting the door behind her. "I just wanted to talk to you."

"What about?"

She seated herself on Anne's bed. "I dunno really. You seem kind of sad today."

"I suppose so," Anne agreed, replacing her quill in the inkpot.

"Why?"

Anne pulled her chair around, and looked at Terry for a moment. She was bouncing on the bed, unable to keep still. No wonder Theo got so annoyed with her. Terry, full of life and enthusiasm...and magic...

That doesn't matter! My family are all my family, it doesn't matter if they're Muggles -

But it does, doesn't it? It does.

"I realised something today," Anne said finally. The sun had set, and the sky outside was fading gently into night. The evening star was visible on the western horizon. Mars would be visible, later, the herald of war. Gabby had told them that once after a Divination class with Firenze.

"You're in love with Theo?" giggled Terry.

"Get out of here!" Anne said, ignoring the immediate answer, which was Maybe, sort of, yes. "Nothing like that."

"What, then?"

"I realised..." It sounded silly, said aloud, but who could she say it to if not Terry? "I realised I'm a witch."

Terry eyed her quizzically. "Well, duh, you go to Hogwarts."

"No, I mean..." Anne gestured in frustration and nearly knocked over the inkpot. "I mean, I'm not a Muggle. I don't belong here."

"'Course we don't. We're witches. We're part of the magic world. This is just our home."

"No, Terry, it's like I thought - I thought I could be normal, we could be normal, and things would just stay the way they always have. But I can't, and they're not, and I don't want them to change, and it's going to happen anyway."

"Isn't that what happens when you grow up? At least it's not like you're Theo and you have to run away from home. That'd be awful. Imagine going away from home."

"Yes, but - oh, never mind." Anne got up and sat down next to Terry on the bed, putting an arm around her. "You're a wonderful person to have around, you know that, Terry?"

Terry obligingly hugged her. "Only when you and Theo don't want to be by yourselves."

Anne punched her sister lightly in the arm. "That's different."

"Yeah, I know it is."

I'm growing away, but Terry's growing with me. And everyone else...well, they're trying to be there for us to come back to. Even Eddie.

There are worse fates.