Feast of Saint Valentine Aftermath Ⅱ

After the Valentine's Day Feast, it had taken forever to round up the older and younger years for various reasons. The younger years were filled to the brim with sugar. And as for the older years, how to put it nicely are quite often found in compromising positions…. Needless to say, there were some things that Rowan would never be able to unsee…The utter horror!

It was rather late when Rowan finally retreated to the safety of her bed. Far too exhausted to dwell on the cold actions from Severus, she merely flopped into bed. It seemed she had barely closed her eyes when a loud knocking was heard at the dorm door. Blindly she reached for her wand hidden under her pillow to defend herself from an attack. However, she wasn't the only one as the rest of the girls held their wands in hand including Tiffany, who was still half-asleep.

The door swung open to reveal their Head of House, Professor Eponine Mortimer. The normally stiff straight hair of Eponine Mortimer was sticking up in every direction having been woken up from her slumber. She wore a thick, warm emerald bed robe with warm wool boots. Rather than looking annoyed at being disturbed from her slumber, Professor Mortimer had a solemn expression on her face.

Sylvia Flint blinked her bluish gray eyes while Bethanie tugged on her long, silky auburn hair in a wary manner. Rowan appeared to be uneasy, while Tiffany stifled a large yawn. "What's all this hullaballoo?" Tiffany sleepily asked. "Some of us need our beauty sleep."

"Miss Flint and Miss Fawley, if you would both immediately accompany me, there has been an incident," Professor Eponine Mortimer carefully said instantly causing all of the girls to feel as if they had been doused in freezing, cold water.

"Wait, what is going on?" Sylvia urgently asked as Bethanie murmured similar sentiments of concern.

Professor Mortimer hesitated and grimaced. "There has been a giant attack at Rowle Manor. Your next of kin have arrived to take the two of you into their charge."

Sylvia looks like she is about to faint when a firm hand presses against her back. Sylvia glances back to see Rowan showing a rare trace of understanding on her face. Sylvia's face crumbles while Tiffany wraps her arms around Bethanie, who has slumped down onto the bed.

"Spurgeon," Bethanie gasped wildly in panic. "He was with my parents! How is my younger brother!"

"Calm yourself, Miss Fawley," Professor Mortimer firmly said with a hint of compassion in her voice. "I am afraid I do not have the answers that you seek. However, there are those waiting for you at the Front Entrance. Please pack only what is necessary."

Rowan gently nudges Sylvia forward, who quickly pulls on a bed robe and only stops to put on shoes and grab her wand. Bethanie does the same not caring for public decency. Rowan and Tiffany can only mutter goodbyes as they each share a glance. Tiffany nor Rowan would not sleep a wink for the rest of the night counting down the minutes until morning to learn more about the incident in the Daily Prophet or receive letters from their families.

With great haste, Professor Mortimer led Sylvia and Bethanie through the chilly dungeons and up the winding staircase towards the front entrance. Standing at the entrance is Professor Albus Dumbledore wearing a matching nightcap and nightgown with fluffy slippers. In any other circumstance Sylvia and Bethanie would have been surprised at seeing the headmaster in his pajamas, but not tonight.

There standing at the entrance is the eldest brother of Sylvia, Gael. Just like their mother, he had dark brown hair with the blueish gray eyes of their father. Sylvia rather unlike herself ran to her brother only to freeze before him at spotting the unshed tears on her older brother's face. Sylvia opened and closed her mouth unable to ask the question she dared not to give voice to.

"Father-," Gael's voice broke, "-is gone."

Sylvia heard no more before fainting dead away into her brother's arms. Gael barely in time managed to catch his younger and only sister in his arms. Wrapping his cloak about himself, Gael paused only to nod at the headmaster, before rushing into the winter tonight. His pregnant wife, his younger brother, and his pregnant sister-in-law were all at home consoling his heartbroken mother.

Witnessing the reaction of Sylvia, Bethanie slowly and rather cautiously approached an elderly wizard with tan skin, broad shoulders, and similar handsome features to that of her father. Yet unlike her father, her great-uncle had grayed dark hair, a bookish air, and an elegant beard. By all accounts, he should have been a popular marriage partner except that he leaned heavily to one side using a cane to support his weight. Her great-uncle had been born with a limp since birth.

"Great-Uncle Adelmar (Fawley)," Bethanie politely greeted her uncle in a curtsey. Her hands unconsciously gripped her bed robe, before straightening up. Her hands balled into a fist as she forced herself to speak calmly, but she is unable to erase a quiver in her voice. "Is Spurgeon safe?"

"Yes, he is safe at home with Esmond," calmly answered, Adelmar Fawley.

Bethanie almost slumped down in relief barely catching herself on her knees. Remembering the presence of the headmaster nearby, she hesitated before asking, "And father and mother?"

"They both perished in the attack at Rowle manor," Adelmar Fawely gravely responded to his great-niece's question.

Bethanie lets out a sigh she did not know she had held in. It was a sense of relief, guilt, and confusion. Her feelings towards her mother and father had always been complicated. She hated them and yet a part of her had loved them. Even the brute of her father had played with them when they were young, while their mother read out loud to them on long winter days. Not all memories were bad and there had been warmth for not even winter is always cold and cruel.

Bethanie is silent for some time before gesturing at her great-uncle that they could go. She only paused to bow respectfully to Professor Dumbledore while her great-uncle did the same. "Dumbledore."

"Fawley," Professor Dumbledore bowed his head towards the other wizard.

The two of them exit the front entrance only to find a carriage. A carriage ride would be much swifter than on foot in the snow in order to reach the apparition boundaries. There was already another carriage trail before them, where the Flint's had since taken.

Bethanie enters the hay-smelling carriage followed by her great-uncle, Adelmar, who lets out a pained grunt. The carriage doors clatter shut before the carriage creaks forward. The two are silent for a moment before Bethanie peeks out of the corner of her eyes at her great-uncle. Her great-uncle had always treated them well, but appearances are always deceiving.

Sensing her heavy gaze, Adelmar glances up catching his great-niece's assessing glance. "You fear for your brothers, do you not?"

Bethanie flushed prettily at being caught out. Pushing her embarrassment aside, she crisply asks, "And what now? Who will take care of Esmond, Spurgeon, and I?"

"You will be in my care," Adelmar answered. "I understand that you are frightened, but I can assure you, I am not my father nor my brother nor much less my nephew, your belated father. You needn't hold such unwarranted fears towards me."

Bethanie is unable to hide an expression of disbelief at her great-uncle's words. She uncertainly rubs her arm uncertain of whether to take her great-uncle at face value. However, neither could she deny that her great-uncle had always treated them well and rather kindly. He had never acted improperly towards them nor much less harshly.

Sensing the distrust of his great-niece, Adelmar quietly said, "I know that is difficult to believe in my words considering the many years that you have suffered at the hands of your father. However, I will prove myself not just by my words, but rather by my deeds."

Bethanie reluctantly nods her head at her great-uncle, before asking, "And what of the rest of the family. Do they approve your guardianship?"

Adelmar snorts loudly in a confident manner that greatly resembled that of her father. "I am the eldest ancestor of the Fawley and moreover of the previous generation. No one else can contend with my claim as regent to the Fawley line despite my deformity."

Bethanie's eyes reflexively glance at her great-uncle's limb, before flushing in utter mortification at being caught. "I apologize, great-uncle," she stiffly said, "it was not my intent to stare."

"You cannot do worse than that was already said and done by my belated father," Adelmar knowingly said.

A look of understanding dawns on Bethanie's face as empathy flashes across her father. Her father had learned to be a brute at her grandfather's hands. And it stood to reason that her grandfather and great-uncle would have learned the same lesson from her great-grandfather. A chain of abuse that extended from ages past.

Relaxing a little into her seat, Bethanie turns to gaze at the snow whirling outside of the carriage. She did not exactly trust her great-uncle, but she would give him the chance to prove himself. And maybe, just maybe, this time she would be proven wrong for once. Just this once, she hoped that her great-uncle would prove to be a decent guardian for her younger brother's sake.