Disavowals

Chapter Eleven - Con Anima

Breakfast was always an excellent way to spoil any good moods Theo found himself in when he woke up - or it was these days - so he'd taken to skipping it, if he wasn't particularly hungry, or going into the Great Hall early or late if he was. Sometimes he threw longing glances at the other House tables, wishing he could join people who wouldn't look at him like he'd crawled out of a swamp. At least, some of them wouldn't. He had to endure his Housemates' disdain at other mealtimes, of course, but first thing in the morning was particularly bad. On the days he was expecting mail, he sat near the sixth-years. They didn't talk to him (apart from "pass the jam") but they didn't try to hex his food, either. It was an improvement.

Expecting a letter back from the O'Neills kept Theo at breakfast on time for a week. The payoff came on Wednesday morning when he received a chatty letter from Monique, with comments from Callum. It told him that everything was fine (at which he let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding). Catriona was back at work, apparently the heroine of the office for her escape - not undeservedly, Theo thought. Callum had apparently borrowed the quill for long enough to regale Theo with a tale of what the Hufflepuff Quidditch team reserves had done to the Slytherins after a victory, by way, Theo assumed, of making him feel better. It did spark indignant House pride, but also amusement. The letter finished with an admonition to "send us another owl sometime soon, just so we know you're all right", and a post-script informing him that "Jan says to say she's trying banana this week, and it looks much better. Whatever that means." Theo couldn't help laughing at that. That prompted Draco to make a snide comment, which somewhat soured the morning, but not enough to be worth bothering about. That day in Charms, the Hufflepuffs greeted him cheerfully when he sat down next to them again. He still felt out of place, but at least he wasn't sitting by himself at the back of the classroom like some sort of pariah.

Feeling much better about life, Theo slept in on Friday morning - no helpful dormmates waking him up, even by throwing things at him - so it was a scramble to get breakfast before first period. When an owl landed in front of him, he just grabbed the letter, shoved it in his pockets, and ran straight to Defence Against the Dark Arts. He didn't get a chance to open it until after dinner. For once, he was in the common room. He'd discovered that if he sat in the corner furthest away from the fireplace, he was safe from interference.

He was about to open the required reading for History of Magic when he remembered the letter. It was crumpled, when he pulled it out of his pockets. Looking closer, he could see it was old; the ink was faded. There was no seal on the back, and he did not recognise the handwriting. In a plain, slanting hand, it read Theodore Nott, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland, Great Britain. Theo hefted the envelope; there was something inside apart from the letter. Very curious, now, he opened it.

It was addressed from his own home, and his heart leapt for a moment. Then he saw the date: the twenty-third of October, nineteen eighty-two. A year after the Dark Lord's downfall; a month and a half after his second birthday...

...two weeks before his mother had died.

It was obvious, when he thought about it.

Dear Theodore,

I don't even know if you're calling yourself that anymore. The only people who called me Adrienne when I was your age were my parents. (Come to that, they are still the only people who call me Adrienne.) You will doubtless be as rebellious as I was at seventeen; maybe as much as your Aunt Monique - although I hope not. Perhaps you're a Teddy - on second thoughts, I don't think so! Perhaps you're a Theo. Yes, I can see that. Perhaps you're still a Theodore, but that I doubt. Two syllables seems to be the most teenagers can manage when it comes to names.

I can see you playing on the floor beside my bed. You're concentrating very hard on making a tower with your blocks, as high as it can go. Maybe that means you'll be a Slytherin like your father. Or maybe I am reading too much into nothing, as your aunt Karena tells me I do far too often. Forgive me; it's just that in these last few days I have been racking my brains, trying to decide what you will become. Since as you know (how could you not?) I will not have the privilege of any other mother, of seeing you grow. And so we come to the reason I'm writing this letter at all.

I have been luckier than some. I have time to write this letter, time to give you something of my thoughts. You're probably wondering why you did not get this on your seventeenth birthday. That would be logical, and we Ravenclaws are logical, for the most part. The truth is I forgot. On September the ninth, I was concentrating too hard on making it your day, since it is the last birthday I will see. It was still as warm as summer then. It has been a good summer. Your father took me walking on the moors, for as long as I had the strength. I can look out the bedroom window now and see the clouds whipping across the sky. It is truly autumn now, my last autumn, as this spring and summer were my last. I didn't know, in the winter. Now I regret the way I wished that winter would end, never realising I would not see the snow again. Perhaps I'll be lucky, perhaps I'll hold out until the November snows fall this year.

But it is October, as I write this, and fifteen years is a good round number. So you are reading this on October the twenty-third, 1997. That seems an impossibly long time in the future. Monique told me once of a Muggle book she read about the future, called 1984; how she could bring herself to - anyway, 1984 must seem a long way in the past to you, but it is a future that I won't see. In fifteen years...I can't begin to imagine.

Indulge me in a flight of fantasy. As your father has told you, I am sure, I never had many of them, preferring to trust to the solid and real. Music doesn't count. Music is as real as these words. Eric has promised me you'll have the chance to know that truth, and I believe you will.

So, ignoring the fact that you're currently knocking over every tower of blocks you have built and asking for my approval of the feat, I can see you now. You are tall, like your father and I, and handsome (of course). You are still young, and your life is before you. You are probably sitting in your House common room, wishing you didn't have so much homework with your NEWTs coming up. You are writing to Eric, maybe, or to a friend, or flirting with some pretty girl. You are so very, very lucky.

I don't know what to tell you because I don't know what you know, and as an editor of books, I have no time for redundant information. I'm sure you don't either. So, in no particular order, here are a few things you probably don't know.

I am (was) a book editor, mostly non-fiction. It makes far more sense.

You were an adorable baby. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

If you go up into the attic and open the third trunk from the right, you will find some old books and notes of mine from my Hogwarts days. My harp is next to them. They might help you with exams, if the courses haven't changed too much. Not all of them are there; I passed some on to my younger sister. You won't know about her. Yes, I have a sister, Monique O'Neill. Her husband's mother was a Muggle. Their children are Janet, Liam, and Catriona. Your father never would have approved of you knowing them. I cannot say I liked my sister's decision, but you need to know about her, and about your cousins. Catriona is the youngest, and she is seven years older than you, so you will not know them from Hogwarts. Their address has almost certainly changed, but our old owl can find them, should you wish to make contact. I will leave that decision to you.

No matter what you hear about the war that has passed; your father made the right decision, and I supported him in it. Listen to your father. He only wants the best for you, as do I.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I have to leave you before I ever got the chance to know you properly. Will it make it any better to tell you that I didn't want to? That should be obvious. I love you, Theodore. Very much indeed.

To thine own self be true. Monique told me that, once, long ago, when I fought with her. She was wrong, but wherever she got that, it was right. Whoever you are is who your father and I want you to be. Why can I say that? Because I know, with Eric there for you, you will be a son to be proud of. You already are.

Whatever happens now, I'm sure of one thing. I'll see you again, somewhere, sometime. But now I'd better go and stop you before you put dents in my walls by throwing blocks at them. Oops, you've already started.

With all my love,

Adrienne Nott (better known to you, now, as Mummy. I'm sure that will embarrass you.)

PS Enclosed is the key to my Gringotts vault, 643. Your father and I decided that the contents would be left for you, when you came of age. You will also find in there some odds and ends - boring legal documents, my NEWT and OWL certificates, that sort of thing - and some things that I did not wish to show your father (photographs, mainly, of Monique and your cousins.), or that we decided he would not want around the house (my writing desk.) Do whatever you want with them.

She'd died on the sixth of November. That was too early for snow, every year that Theo could remember. Had his mother seen the snow fall? His first thought was, I'll ask Dad. That wasn't an option, of course. His father might not even know about this letter. Certainly not if it mentioned the O'Neills. Maybe Monique knew. He'd have to ask her.

Theo shook the vault key out into his palm. The gold metal caught the flickering candlelight. He almost fancied he could see a face in there, a pale woman with long brown hair. It was funny. Until this year he'd never bothered thinking much about his mother. The fact of her death, and his half-orphaning, was just a fact of his life; she was no more than a few pictures, and a name, and a certain look in his father's eyes. And a few hazy memories of music and a quill scratching on parchment. She'd been as black-and-white as the pictures. Now Adrienne Nott was almost painfully coloured in, scrap by scrap; aunt, daughter, sister, mother, wife. She had stopped being his father's private pain and Theo's vague regret and become a person in her own right, a woman who had come to Hogwarts, just as Theo had, visited Hogsmeade, cheered at Quidditch matches, sat in the library studying, sweated over exams, and left, and worked, and married, and died. When it had occurred to Theo to think about it, he had wondered why almost forty years of life had left so few traces behind. Apparently, they had been there all this time. He just hadn't looked.

It was ironic, he thought, dropping the key back into the envelope, that so much had been laid open for him after he'd left home. If he'd still been able to write to his father, he could have asked so much. But he couldn't, and that was...an end.

I can ask Monique, of course, but there's only so much she can tell me. Karena and Paul could have told me as much as Dad, but I can't ask them. Kenneth...if he'd lived, he'd remember her more. If he'd lived, I wouldn't be talking to him either.

Who knows. Maybe he would have agreed with me, not them.

No! I won't think like that, it isn't us and them, it is, but not my family, they're -

I don't know, anymore. I know what they think. I know what I think they think, at least.

So where were you, Mum? One of us, or one of them?

Intellectually, Theo knew she'd been on his father's side, knew that she would have agreed with the Death Eaters. But she was dead, and the picture he'd built up had just enough pieces missing, enough in place - the photo of her with her nieces and nephew - the very fact she'd kept talking to her sister -

- just enough pieces for Theo to imagine her in limbo here with him, neither quite one thing nor the other. Maybe she'd been not against the Death Eaters, but just enough to know that Muggle-borns were...part of the wizarding world, not like everyone else was, but still standing in the right place, because they were part of the magic (and you could see, if you looked, how it tore them to be part of both worlds.) That Muggles could be people, even without magic. It was a silly dream. He might as well hope for his classmates to give up the fight and decide he was as Slytherin as they were. He might as well hope for his father back.

But it was a dream, and you could hold on to dreams. For just long enough.

*

Anne could have kicked herself for not making time to find Theo before the first Hogsmeade weekend. It wasn't as if she needed him to ask her, or anything like that (even if it would be nice) but between sixth year and Sarah, she didn't manage to speak more than two words to him for almost a week, and suddenly it was Saturday and they were all trooping down. She couldn't spot Theo in the crowd, and Theo was noticeable, this year, so often alone, but she decided to go looking for him when they got to Hogsmeade.

If she could shake off the others, that was. Sarah seemed to have decided that the best way to make sure Anne was not corrupted by nasty Slytherins was to ensure that Anne had no time to see them. She was forever offering help with homework, or organising study groups, or laying down the law about curfew - she'd taken points off Anne for getting back from the library late, and that was unheard of. It was getting to the point where Anne was resorting to very devious tactics to extricate herself. Ellie was surprisingly helpful in that regard, and Gabby could be easily diverted, allowing Anne to escape. Today Sarah had let up her guard, but only because one of the Ravenclaws had asked her to go with him. Ellie was walking with her boyfriend. Gabby was in the middle of one of her joined-at-the-hip periods with Chris, as opposed to their we're-sick-of-the-sight-of-each-other ones. That left only Mai to shake off, but Mai was surprisingly nervous out of the castle grounds, and Anne wasn't sure she could do it.

"Why do they think we need guards?" Mai said, eyeing the closest Auror nervously. "It's - of course the Death Eaters aren't going to attack us here, are they?"

"No, of course not?" Anne reassured her. "Besides, there's only four Aurors. If it was really dangerous, we wouldn't be allowed to go at all."

"Only four? That's not very many, if they do attack." Mai shrank closer towards the mass of people.

Her voice must have rung out, because one of the Aurors fell into step with them.

"You don't need to worry about anything, miss. We're just scenic. The Death Eaters have got bigger fish to fry." Anne recognised her with a start. It was one of the Aurors who had turned up on her street after the Death Eater. She'd been unable to recognise her for a moment - the long black hair was very different from spiky pink.

"Oh." Mai bit her lip. "Why are you here, then?"

"Just in case. Really, it's nothing to worry about."

"Are you, er, Sergeant Tonks, ma'am?" Anne spoke up. "I think you took a statement off me and my brother."

"That's right," Sergeant Tonks said cheerfully. "Anne Fairleigh, isn't it? Your brother was the one who gave Paul Amberley a black eye. Not too happy about that, he was. And you - hmm, yes."

"And she what?" Mai asked.

"Nothing important," Tonks said, shaking her head. "Though I just remembered - you lived near my cousins, didn't you, Miss Fairleigh?"

"Your cousins?" Anne frowned, scuffing aside some fallen leaves. "I - Tonks, oh, no. The Martins. That was Mrs. Martin's maiden name. You're not -"

"Yeah, that was my aunt and uncle." Tonks shrugged, but her head was bowed. "Apparently you were their kids' favourite babysitter. Little Andy talked about you a bit."

"Andromache?" Anne blinked in surprise. "How is she? I forgot to find out, and -"

"Fine, fine. Mum and Dad are enjoying having a kid around the house again. She asked for you a lot when she first came."

"I suppose she's forgotten us all now. She must be getting on for four."

"I think she'd remember if she saw you again," Tonks offered. "You should come and see her, sometime. It was a bit rough, losing all her family and having to move. I think a friendly face would make her very happy."

"I'd like that, if I get the chance." They were almost at Hogsmeade, now. "I miss them a lot."

"Me, too. I didn't see them as often as I wanted to, being an Auror, but - family's family, y'know. My Mum's aren't too keen on her, either."

"Why not?"

"Marrying a Muggle-born. Disgracing the family, and all that. Oops, I'd better get back on point, Kingsley's looking at me. I'll see you around."

"Sure, Sergeant." Anne nodded goodbye. Mai pulled her away as soon as the Auror was gone.

"Was she related to your neighbours? The ones who died?"

"Yeah." Anne sighed. "It seems like such a long time ago. Elise would have been a third-year. Do you remember them much, Mai?"

"Elise Martin?" Mai tilted her head curiously. "No, not much."

"Not just her. The ones who've died. All of them."

"I don't like thinking about it," Mai said. Her voice was flat. "It's too hard. They were - they - it's too close. Come on. Let's go look in Gladrags."

Anne saw her plans for finding Theo dissolving in smoke. "Only if we can look in the bookshop later -"

"Yes, but I need to get a scarf first. Come on, it'll only take a few minutes," Mai cajoled. She headed off towards the clothing store. Anne shook her head, and followed her.

*

She did manage to get rid of Mai, by dint of finding Theo. As mentally predicted, he was to be found in what passed for the music section of Hogsmeade's bookshop. Anne hadn't predicted that he would be talking, if somewhat uneasily, to Ernie Macmillan. Anne hovered in the door of the shop, not liking to interrupt.

"Are you going in or not?" Mai said from behind her. "I - oh. Never mind."

Anne turned around. "You don't have to -" she began, at the same time as Mai said, "I just remembered, I need to go and -"

They stared at each other for a second. Mai swallowed, twisting her hands around each other.

"I...I'll see you back at school, okay?" she faltered.

Anne couldn't help sighing.

"It's not - Anne, you know I don't -"

"It's all right," Anne said, then, more loudly, "it's okay. I wouldn't want you to go out of your way for me. I'll probably see you at dinner."

Mai's lips compressed. "Fine, then," she said stiffly, and left.

Anne paused, staring after her. Mai had been the one who'd -

Oh. I wasn't all that nice about it, was I?

I can't spend my whole life walking around other people's prejudices.

You spent a lot of time walking around Theo's, part of her pointed out tartly.

Theo tried.

Mai's trying, the other voice said. She's just scared.

No one was scared when it was a joke. They joked about it for years, because God knew there was no way I'd turn up with a boyfriend, let alone a Slytherin one. Then I do, and Mai's scared, Ellie silently disapproves, Sarah's attempting sabotage, and Gabby pries. I thought they liked me.

Never do what people don't expect, another voice said. It sounded much like Theo. It upsets them.

"Are you going to stand there all day, miss, or are you coming in?" said the shopkeeper tartly. Anne jumped, and stepped inside. Several people had passed her while she'd been thinking.

"I'm sorry, I was - um, sorry." She worked her way through a group of third-years to where Theo and Ernie had been standing, only to find that Ernie had moved on and Theo was frowning at her.

"What was that all about?"

"I thought I knew best about my friends," Anne said tartly, and regretted it the moment she'd said it. "Look - sorry. People are being a bit, well...human. I suppose. It's getting to me."

Theo raised his eyebrows. "People being human. Imagine that."

"You know what I mean."

"Being human probably covers most of the world's problems, I know. It would be so much easier if they were all saintly."

"Much more boring, though." Anne smiled.

"Much," Theo agreed. "Was there something you needed to get here?"

"Oh, no. I was just looking for you. Were you -"

Theo shook his head. "I only came down to get out of the castle. Well, that, and because accidents are much easier in empty castles."

"You're paranoid, you know," Anne said, but she couldn't help looking around. "On second thoughts...I annoyed the shopkeeper a bit." She scanned the shelves. "Um...here." There was a clef-lined pad mixed up with the sheet music. She grabbed it.

"What's that for?" Theo asked curiously, following her to the counter.

"Terry's been complaining about how all the base parts are really boring. She wanted me to try transposing some of the tunes down."

"Can't she do that?"

"That," Anne declared with a smirk, "is the idea. Just this, please."

The shopkeeper's frown lifted somewhat. "That'll be six sickles."

"You can think like a Slytherin, sometimes," Theo said as they left the shop.

"I'll take that in the spirit it was intended," Anne replied.

"As a compliment, of course," Theo said lightly. Anne ducked her head, pretending not to blush.

"Have you heard back from your - from the O'Neills?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Yes, actually. I got a nice chatty letter from Monique." Theo frowned, staring into the distance. "It was...nice."

"The letter, or getting it?"

"Both. I didn't have to read between the lines. Not much, at least."

"I see." If talking to Theo at Hogwarts had felt exposing, it had nothing on this; Anne was on the point of pinching her arm to reassure herself that she was walking down the High Street, in Hogsmeade, with Theo, in broad daylight, and it wasn't some strange dream. That illusion was shattered when she saw Sarah on the other side of the street with Ellie and some other sixth-years. Anne waved. Ellie waved back, although hesitantly, as did some of the others she knew through classes.

Sarah looked away.

"Something wrong?" Theo said, turning his head to look in the same direction.

"No. Yes. Nothing you can help with," Anne said honestly. "You haven't got any other letters, then?"

"Just one from my mother."

Anne stopped dead, staring up at Theo. "What - but I thought - even for wizards, isn't that a bit -"

Theo shrugged. He was looking at Anne, but she didn't think he was seeing her. "It was written before she died. She must have had it kept by the Owl Office, or something."

Anne wanted to ask what it had said, but even if she could have, this wasn't the place. "Did you want to get a letter from her?"

"I never thought about it." They'd moved back near the window of the quill shop, out of people's way. "Not for years - it'd stopped mattering - and then all of a sudden she gets a sister, and all these photos I saw at Monique and Callum's, and now a letter, and -" Theo brushed his hair back off his forehead. "I knew she was dead, and that was easy. Now I'm having to find out that she was alive once, too." He paused. "That didn't make much sense, did it?"

"It made perfect sense." Anne reached out to squeeze Theo's hand. "Maybe you need to know she was alive. If that makes sense."

He didn't let go. "I'm not sure I want to, if she's just another person I've betrayed."

"You didn't mean to betray anyone," was the only thing Anne could think of to say, and it wasn't enough.

"No?" He smiled down at her grimly.

All Anne could do was hold on to his hand tighter.

"So," she said after a pause, "Are we actually going anywhere, or just wandering aimlessly?"

"Going somewhere," Theo said slowly, pulling her away from the window. "I think. Ma- Ernie Macmillan said, earlier, that he and some of the others were going to meet at the Three Broomsticks around now."

Anne interpreted "the others" to mean the DA. "And..."

"He invited me along. No idea why. So, we could, I don't know, head that way..."

Anne knew she ought to remind Theo they were still holding hands, but decided there was no reason why they shouldn't be. "The question then is, do you want to take him up on that?"

"You know...I rather think I do." Theo's tone was one of mild surprise.

"Why?"

"You Hufflepuffs...the ones in my year, anyway...they're very idealistic."

"I thought ideals were dangerous," Anne reminded him.

"Idealistic and well-meaning. And friendly. And restful to be around. It's nice to be reminded that ideals do not have to include murdering large segments of the population."

"I'm surprised at you, Theo. Someone's going to accuse you of amiability."

"I wouldn't worry too much about that," he said as they turned towards the pub. "I just like having somewhere to be, at times. Being me, that is. Not what I'm expected to be."

Somewhere to be yourself. I can understand why that appeals to you. God knows it appeals to me.

Ernie Macmillan waved at them from a corner of the pub as they entered.

"Of course," Theo muttered as they made their way over, "I'm surprised at me, too."