Burn Marks

Part Four - Reunion

Marius Black was quickly beginning to wonder if he had made the right decision. Why had he thought that he could make it across Muggle London with no map and only seven Sickles and eleven Knuts in his pocket? The adrenaline rush from his climb down to the street was long gone, and now he knew that he was hopelessly lost.

He crossed his arms in attempt to keep warm as the evening shadows lengthened. It didn't help that his torn robes were useless in stopping the cooling breeze. His left knee had begun to throb at every step as well. He'd fallen when those awful rough-looking boys had chased him and called him names (of which "dress-wearing sissy" had been the most complimentary). Maybe Aunt Elladora was right when she said Muggles weren't to be trusted.

Or maybe not. Marius had no doubt that, had he stayed at Grimmauld Place, she would have come up with some dreadful, and probably painful, punishment for his being a Squib. Mother and Father would have almost certainly supported her, too.

Yes, I'm doing the right thing. I just need to keep moving east. Wait... Does that sign say 'Gracechurch Street'?

*

Phineas Black nibbled on the end of his quill as he sat at the kitchen table. With Mary and the girls visiting relatives in Derbyshire, he knew he should take advantage of the quiet evening at home to work on his latest proposal for the Wizengamot, but the words stubbornly refused to come.

They'll ignore it just like all the others, whispered the annoying voice of reason in his brain. You're wasting your time.

Phineas shook his head and forced himself to concentrate. It was true that most of his Muggle rights campaign had fallen on deaf ears. The fact that he was scheduled to work the midnight shift at St. Mungo's was just one more expression of the common hostility towards his "hobby." Anyone else with nearly thirty years of experience would have been excused from odd hours and weekends. Phineas also knew that both he and Mary had been passed over for several well-deserved promotions over the years. He could only hope that their elder daughter Julia would be spared from the worst of the prejudice when she began her Healer training in August.

He was startled by a knock at the door; he hadn't been expecting anyone. He was even more surprised to find that his visitor was a young boy in torn, dirty robes. The boy's voice was barely audible as he asked, "Are you my Uncle Phineas?"

Phineas leaned against the door frame and smiled. "It depends. Who are you?"

"Marius Black." The boy's face fell when Phineas showed no signs of recognition. "My father's name is Cygnus," he added desperately.

"Ah," said Phineas in understanding. "Since my younger brother hasn't spoken to me in over twenty years, I must admit I'm at a loss to guess your reasons for showing up on my doorstep. Frankly, I'm shocked he even mentioned my existence."

"He didn't. Grandfather told me to come here. His portrait, I mean."

Phineas blinked. Father had never shown any evidence of desiring a reconciliation during his lifetime, and Elladora had barred him from the funeral. What had prompted this posthumous suggestion? To the boy, he said, "I think you'd better come in and tell me the whole story."

***

Bob Hitchens sat in his comfortable armchair and squinted at the newspaper. It was either time to order a new pair of spectacles or get Isla to charm the print size larger again. He glanced up and caught her eye as the rhythmic clicking of her knitting needles complemented the jazz playing on the wireless. Using forty-nine years of experience to read his desires without saying a word, she flicked her wand at the paper he was holding up. She didn't even drop a stitch.

"Thank you." Now that he was mostly retired from Jaggers, Tulkinghorn & Hitchens, he had plenty of leisure time to indulge in the lifestyle of the "comfortably well-off." He smiled as he turned over to the business pages to check stock prices. His clever wife had proven to be a financial genius in picking which investments to make. Bob sometimes suspected that the crystal ball on her desk had a hand in her success, but she assured him that it was only for decoration.

When he finished the paper, he again looked over at Isla. The years had been kind to her; he still admired her shapely ankles. Bob smiled to himself as he remembered how quickly she had adopted the fashion of short skirts and bobbed hair after the Great War. She had taken him to Diagon Alley where they had both laughed over seeing no fewer than three witches in floor-length robes hexing their husbands for staring at Isla's exposed legs.

I'm still amazed that she chose me.

In the early years of their marriage, Bob had, at times, struggled to cope with the revelation that Isla was a witch; the fact that she had powers he could not hope to match had been something of a threat to his male pride. Raising three magical children hadn't been easy, either. Even though she readily bowed to his wishes in sending them to normal schools before they were old enough for Hogwarts, he had often felt useless when they encountered problems he simply didn't understand. In fact, the worst argument of his marriage had occurred when their only daughter announced that she wanted to be an Auror. Bob had, as he saw it, perfectly reasonable objections to watching his little girl chase Dark wizards. In response, Isla had merely pointed out that women were just as capable of Dark magic as men. "Just look at my sister."

A knock at the door interrupted Bob's reverie. Knowing that Isla was in a race against time to finish the baby blanket before the imminent birth of their first great-grandchild, he went to answer it himself. Surprised but pleased to see his wife's nephew, Bob invited Phineas in. Only then did he see the nervous-looking boy hovering in the background. "Hello, who's this?"

The boy shyly took Bob's hand. "Marius Black, sir." Obviously unable to stifle his curiosity, he added, "Is it true that you're a Muggle?"

"Yes, I am, although I don't much care for the term. Makes us sound half-witted." The boy started to draw back in embarrassment, but Bob held his hand fast. "Don't worry about it. Come, follow me."

Isla looked up as the three of them walked into the living room. "Good to see you, Phineas. What brings you by?"

"Another family refugee. Marius here is one of my brother's sons." The boy shook Isla's hand and took the indicated seat on the sofa as Phineas continued. "Father's portrait sent him to me, of all people, and I'm still trying to think of a reason why."

"Well, Phinny never did forgive me for sending him Howlers every day for a week when I thought he wasn't being fair to my boys at Hogwarts."

"It wasn't the Howlers. It's because you called him 'Phinny,'" muttered Bob.

Isla laughed in response and then turned back to Phineas. "So how did he manage to run afoul of the family at such a young age? He looks to be only ten or eleven..." Her voice trailed off as she stared at Marius calmly petting Ida, the notoriously bad-tempered family cat. Under normal circumstances, Ida would have viciously clawed anyone who tried to cuddle her, but now she was curled up in Marius's lap and purring. "You're a Squib," whispered Isla as she solved the puzzle.

Marius blushed as he nodded and quickly returned his attention to the cat in order to avoid the eyes of the adults. Bob only half-listened to Isla and Phineas tossing out ideas on handling the problem, preferring to watch the boy carefully. Poor Marius looked as if he were expecting to receive still more rejection from his family.

All too aware of the difficulties of living on the edge of the wizarding world without the ability to truly be part of it, Bob knew what he had to do. "You're both overlooking the obvious solution. I'll teach him."

Isla and Phineas turned to him in stunned surprise before breaking into sheepish grins. Even Marius managed a small smile. Bob winked at his wife and said, "Who other than a stupid Muggle like me would be more qualified to prepare him for living a normal life?" Shrugging off the apologies from the others, Bob leaned back in his armchair as he thought over his next steps. "I'll need to enroll him in a school for the next term and acquire a book list. He'll need to do quite a bit of catching up."

"Why don't you go in to the office on Monday and talk to Belden? His sons are about the same age and could teach Marius some sports," suggested Isla. "And in a few years, he could take a position there. After all, what's the point of being a partner in the firm if you can't indulge in some nepotism?"

In the laughter that followed, Bob ruefully remembered his old disappointment that neither of his own sons had shown any interest in the law, magical or otherwise. Now he was surprisingly grateful to have another chance to influence a boy's career. Maybe I'll have better luck this time.

Soon, Phineas checked his watch and regretfully rushed off to St. Mungo's for his shift. Bob then showed his great-nephew around the house and demonstrated some of the electrical appliances before pouring out three glasses of wine. Marius accepted his half-serving with wide eyes and blushed when Isla offered a toast to his "thoroughly Muggle" future.

"I hope you're a hard worker, young man. You've a great deal to learn in a short time." Bob smiled at Marius's eager and anxious face. "We'll start tomorrow morning with something very important to a future businessman: golf."

*FIN*

Thanks again to my beta, Ara Kane, for unraveling my tortured sentence structure. *Beats dependent clauses down with a stick*

Also thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed. Your comments put a huge smile on my face!