The Virtue of Decision

The early morning sun hung low in the sky, inching its way up to sit amongst the puffy summer time clouds. Persistent rays of light crept through the dense leafy canopy over head, casting slivers of sunshine across the moss covered forest floor.

Curio walked quietly on the old path, dodging weather worn rocks, and sprawling tree roots as he went. The forest was a completely different place in the daytime. It still held that thinly veiled feeling of uncertainty. The kind of unease that makes you check over your shoulder every few moments, and never let's you entirely relax.

A slight breeze rustled through the trees, brushing westward wind through his hair. He had dressed in his business robes, varying only slightly from those he wore when on a mission. Instead of just the basic black, these robes were adorned with two large gray stripes down the front of them, and a small badge was affixed to his chest, announcing his authority to any who glanced at it. The same silver clasp held them closed, only these robes stretched higher up onto his neck, making them noticeably more uncomfortable.

The letter he clutched tightly in his left hand seemed to be getting heavier as he walked, the dread of having to deliver it accounting for most of the phantom weight. Benedict had read it before he left, and now the envelope was left tattered and open.

A break in the trees up ahead glowed with the soft light of morning, reaching as far down the narrow path as the sun would allow. He stopped at the mouth of the trail, shielding his eyes from the glare. The small clearing was shaped in a perfect circle, with similar openings in the trees evenly spaced around it.

A large cottage stood at the center, stretching three stories up into the sky. Several chimneys protruded from the thatched roof, with the largest resting in the center of the house. Windows of all shapes and sizes lay scattered throughout the bark siding, offering a glittering pause to the never-ending maze of rough wood.

Gardens full to overflowing lined the cobbled path leading up to the house, and a large paddock at the back of the house held two grumpy looking Hippogriffs, who surveyed the yard with tense black eyes.

With a deep breath Curio made his way up the path, and climbed the crumbling stone steps up to the front door. The door was nearly twice his height and was intricately carved with the likeness of dozens of magical beasts, each seeming to leer more heatedly then the next down at him.

"Well...here I go," he whispered, taking another deep breath before slowly raising his fist to knock on the glowering door; but before he even lowered his fist the door was pulled back roughly; leaving him to stand there with his hand raised in mid air.

A woman of perhaps thirty years of age stood in the large doorway; her small frame tense with suspicion and her wand poised in front of her, ready to strike.

"What the hell do you want?" she demanded angrily, her otherwise pretty face curled into a mask of hatred.

"I...well...I mean ..." he stuttered, slowly lowering his hand.

"Spit it out kid," she insisted, narrowing her eyes at him threateningly.

"Are you Mrs. Isabella Launce?" he asked meekly, his confidence faltering under her heated glare.

"Who wants to know?" she regarded him with the utmost suspicion.

"I'm with the ministry miss," he held out the letter awkwardly. "This is for you."

"What is it?" she questioned, not making any attempt to take the letter from him,

her eyes suddenly fell upon his badge. "Oh...oh no," she murmured, raising a hand to her mouth, and snatching the letter from his fingers. "It's about Juno isn't it?" she pulled the parchment from the envelope hurriedly.

Curio nodded. "Yes miss...he, your husband has been put into custody, under the accusation that he has broken laws put down by the werewolf code of conduct. The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures insists that all who break the code must be captured and held in a ministry kennel until further questioning can be administered," he rattled off his rehearsed lines, rolling his eyes up towards the ceiling in thought.

Isabella turned on him, brandishing the letter in the air. "Did you open this?" she demanded. "The envelope was open, did you read this?"

He blinked, shaking his head. "No, no, of course not," he insisted, then added, sounding ashamed. "The head of my department did...he, he felt it was a necessary precaution, incase your husband was trying to contact someone who might aid him in an escape."

She had still yet to read the letter. "What has he been accused of? What part of the code did he break?" her jaw was clenched tightly in anger.

Curio looked at her confused. "For attacking another human...for infecting your son Mrs. Launce," he watched as realization slowly swept over her face.

"They...they think he infected Juno," she murmured, gripping the letter tightly.

Her entire demeanor had changed; the fiery eyes that had met him at the door were now replaced by a docile, almost saddened blue. Her dirty blonde hair was starting to squirm its way loose from the many pins that held it messily off of her neck, and the deep worried lines that creased her forehead shone clearly in the soft light.

"Will you take a reply to him for me?" she asked hopefully, looking up at Curio with tear-rimmed eyes.

He swallowed, forcing himself to acknowledge her gaze. "Of course," he replied quietly, even though he was all too aware that taking a reply back to a prisoner was against policy.

She offered the tiniest of smiles. "Thank you," she turned from him quickly, scurrying over to a door at the far end of the large room. "Wait here...I'll be right back," she motioned towards a comfy looking armchair by the window before disappearing through the door and out of the room.

He sat down with a sigh, careful not to jar his injured arm in the process. The old chair squeaked slightly at the added weight, the soft burgundy cushion molding to his shape. Drumming his fingertips on the upholstered arm Curio glanced around the large room for the first time.

The entire place had a rustic feel to it. The large beams of wood that crisscrossed the high ceiling still had bark on them, and were more rounded then customary support beams. Dried herbs hung in abundance from the rafters, coating the room in comforting smells.

A fire crackled in the stone fireplace, where a large cauldron sat over the flames, boiling feverishly. A large elk head sat affixed over the mantle, and every now and then the large animal would blink and look about the room.

Photos lined the walls, and cluttered the tops of end tables. Most were of Juno and Isabella, smiling happily and waving, but the more recent ones included a tiny infant with black hair that matched his father's, giggling contently in his parent's arms.

Curio frowned, sitting back in the armchair, wanting nothing more than to leave. He hated himself for volunteering to do this, for having to be the barer of such horrible news. The look on Isabella's face when she realized what he was there for burned itself deep with in his memory, flashing before his eyes whenever his lids flickered shut.

The quiet of the room was suddenly shattered by a high-pitched whimper. Blinking, Curio sat up in the armchair, looking about the room for the source of the noise, which seemed to be growing louder with each passing second.

"Oh," he murmured, his gaze falling upon the small crib sitting inconspicuously in the far corner. "Hey, it's all right, don't cry," he cooed, pushing himself to his feet and crossing the distance to the crib.

Juno Launce jr. sat along the side of his crib, gripping the bars with his tiny hands, and trying to pull himself to his feet. His round face was scrunched up in a semi-pained expression, and teardrops were beginning to form in the corners of his brown eyes.

"It's all right," Curio insisted, gently pushing back the baby's soft black hair. "You're probably in a lot of pain huh?" he asked quietly, scanning him for where the wolf had bitten him.

Juno continued to pout, whimpering pitifully he raised his arms up towards Curio.

"Up?" he asked, unable to keep a smile from gracing his face. The little baby reminding him of his younger sister Miranda when she had been this tiny. "Well all right, but only because you asked so nicely," he leaned over and picked him up as gently as he could with one arm.

Juno nestled into the front of Curio's robes, sighing quietly in contentment.

Frowning Curio looked down at him, his forehead knitted in thought. "You're awfully lively for a baby who was just attacked by a full grown werewolf," he muttered, sitting down in a nearby chair to get a better look.

Setting Juno on his lap he carefully inspected him, searching for any signs of an assault. When he lifted up the baby's shirt he spotted a rather large crescent shaped scar snaking its way along his tiny back, but didn't find a single cut or scrap on his skin.

"What do you think you are doing?" Isabella stood in the small doorway, her eyes wide in fear.

Curio's head snapped up quickly. "He was crying," he said quickly, getting to his feet as soon as she had snatched her son from his arms; Juno whimpered in response.

"How dare you," she sneered, kissing Juno gently on the forehead. "I shouldn't have left him in here," she murmured, rocking him gently, her arms surrounding him possessively.

"I wasn't going to hurt him. He was crying, I was just making sure he was ok," Curio insisted defensively.

"Right," she scoffed, eyeing him with pure malice. "You really cared if a werewolf baby was all right."

Curio frowned, then said steadily. "You don't know me miss, so I would appreciate it if you didn't make assumptions about things that you know nothing about."

She made a choked indignant noise in the back of her throat but didn't utter a word.

"And I'll tell you another thing," Curio continued, pointing at the baby in her arms. "That kid wasn't attacked by a werewolf...not recently anyway."

Isabella's face blanched considerably, she turned sideways to avoid his accusing eyes. "What are you talking about?" she muttered. "You said it yourself, Juno infected him."

"The call said it happened the same night we captured your husband," Curio interrupted her, stepping closer. "And that baby doesn't have a scratch on him."

She stayed silent, biting her lip and rocking her baby absently.

"If your husband is innocent then just say so...he didn't infect this baby, why are the two of you pretending that he did?" Curio asked, frowning. "He didn't even object to the accusations that he did it."

"Because," she sniffled, looking over at him, tears falling silently down her cheeks. "If Juno isn't the one who pays...then the person who did it will have to."

An overwhelming feeling of regret washed over Curio's entire being. He regretted letting the werewolf break his hand. He regretted taking the essence of silver. He regretted delivering Juno's letter, and now, now he regretted questioning things that he knew deep inside he didn't want to know the answers to.

"Your son," he took a deep breath. "He bit his father."

Her bottom lip quivered slightly, and she busied herself with straightening Juno's small shirt. "It was an accident," she sniffed back a tear. "Juno...he was attacked a few months ago," she sniffled. "I only took my eyes off him for a second I swear," her shoulders shook slightly with sobs. "When he changed...he...he was in so much pain," she hugged her son closer. "There was nothing we could do...Juno, he, he just wanted to make sure he was ok. He only went near him for a moment...but, but that's all it takes I guess," she sniffled. "He's only a baby, he didn't bite him on purpose," angrily she wiped away her tears, her saddened expression quickly turning into a spiteful glare. "I bet you're thrilled about this. You'll probably get promoted," she sneered, shielding her baby with her arms. "Get them while they're young right? Stop them before they can hurt anyone else."

He stared at her, quite aware of how stupid he must have looked. "What?"

"Oh don't act all innocent with me," she spat. "I know what they do to children who infect others," she backed away, shaking her head defiantly. "But don't you think for a second I'm going to let you take my son. You'll have to kill me first."

"But...you said yourself it was an accident, I'm sure if you explain it to the council,"

"Is this your first day kid?" she asked, laughing bitterly. "There's no such thing as an accident where werewolves are concerned," her toughness faltered, her voice now weak with grief. "Which is why you can't tell," she hugged her baby tightly to her chest. "Juno...in his letter...he said not to tell. He understands that it's either him or our baby," she looked up, her eyes burning with determination. "He'd rather die than let them kill our son...and so would I...if it were me."

For the first time since entering the cottage Curio was struck with how young Isabella was, probably only a few years older than him self. The pictures of her on the mantle showed a happy carefree girl, her eyes bright with anticipation for the future. The woman before him now only held a glimmer of that girl within her. Circumstances that she could have never foreseen crushing her spirit underfoot.

"I..." Curio began, his pity for her situation clear in his voice. "It doesn't matter if I tell or not," he sighed, rubbing his eyes absently.

She pursed her lips into a thin line, and asked slowly. "What do you mean?"

His thoughts raced back to the small cauldron that sat upon his desk back at the ministry; he swallowed down the feelings of guilt that threatened to cloud his better judgment. "It doesn't matter if I say anything...because after he takes the truth serum he'll say everything him self."

She blinked, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "But...but they don't have the clearance for that," she bit her lip. "Only the Aurors can make Veritaserum...for when they question dark wizards," she insisted.

Curio shifted uncomfortably under her intense gaze, looking around as to avoid her eyes. "Well, actually, that's not exactly the case," he mumbled, still fighting a losing battle against his conscience.

She frowned. "Well then what exactly is the case?" she demanded.

"Well, umm, in some cases we get clearance to make it. Just in small doses of course, and I have to make it in a certain time frame, and what we don't use has to be destroyed after the trial, but that's not a problem, it's a fairly simple procedure..."

"You make it?" she asked incredulously, interrupting his nervous babbling.

"Aye."

A faint glint of amusement passed over her features. "You're the potions master?"

It was now his turn to glare. "Why is that so hard to believe?"

She waved her hand in the air dismissively. "Oh no reason," her tiny smile had fled as quickly as it appeared. "What's your name?" she insisted, catching him off guard with the question.

"What?"

"Your name. You do have a name don't you?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Curio," he replied quietly.

"Curio what?"

He bit the inside of his cheek and muttered an almost inaudible. "Nym."

He sighed as her eyes grew in recognition, the way everyone's eyes shone after he announced his lineage. "And you would be Alonzo's..." she let the statement hang in the air, waiting for him to fill in the blank.

"Alonzo would be my father," he replied, adding with recognizable distaste. "Not by choice I assure you."

"Well that would explain it quite well, wouldn't it," she sneered, the conversational tone stripped from her voice.

"Explain what?" he demanded, his patience with her clearly growing thin.

She took a step closer, her eyes narrowed, and her voice biting. "Why you're so intent on handing over an innocent baby into the hands of the authority," she scrunched her face up in disgust. "I guess heartlessness runs in the family."

Curio Nym would never be described as someone who angers easily. If there was one thing he had learned from his father it was how to hide his emotions, to wear a constant mask. It was a trait that seemed to be in abundance amongst the very wealthy, and Curio pulled it off with striking convince. However, when someone was able to break through the mask, to anger him so completely, he was an entirely different young man all together.

"In case you have forgotten Mrs. Launce, I am the authority," he glowered, his fist balled in pent up anger at his side. "And I'm just doing my job," he added with spite. "And who my father is, and his previous actions have no impact on my own behavior."

"Really?" her lips curled up into a cruel form of a smile. "Because killing a baby seems just like something he would do."

His anger flashed into disbelief. "I'm not going to kill your baby."

"If you tell on him...if you tell, he's as good as dead. You might as well pull the trigger yourself," she turned, walking over to the crib and carefully resting Juno in it.

Curio's thoughts raced, he swallowed, his voice weak. "You don't understand," he insisted. "I'll lose my job."

"I'll lose my son," she said firmly, turning on him, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. "Do you want to be the one responsible for that?"

He swallowed again, unable to clear the lump from his throat. "I...it's not my fault. What happened isn't my fault," he bit his bottom lip, staring intently down at his feet. "It's not my problem," he added quietly.

"Fine," the word was filled with so much hatred it might as well have been a punch to the face.

He flinched outwardly, sighing quietly. "I'm..."

"Don't waste your breath," she hissed, quickly leaning over to scrawl something else on the letter before shoving the envelope against his chest roughly. "Take this and leave. Go do your job," she sneered the last word with as much loathing as was humanly possible.

"Mrs. Launce," he started but was interrupted once more.

"Get out of my house!" she cried, pointing a shaking finger at the door. "Get out, get out, get out!"

He sighed, turning from her and making his way quietly out the door and on to the crumbling steps. With the door shut firmly behind him the sounds of muffled sobs could be heard from with in. Letting out a breath he was unaware he had been holding he carefully made his way down the loose stones.

It's not your fault. He thought numbly, trying to convince the guilt that was gnawing away furiously at his insides. "I'm just doing my job," he mumbled to the empty forest as he began his long walk back to the road. "There's nothing I can do about this...it's just the way things have to be," even as he spoke the words, thoughts of doubt plagued their validity.