Rabbit: June 1970
Title: Rabbit
Chapter Number/Title: June 1970: School (40/100) [[ Previous | Next]]
Rating: G
Word Count: 1123
Workshop?: If you see something!
June 30, 1970
School
“And you never saw the room again?”
“No,” Rodolphus said, dabbing a cloth in a bottle of Buxby’s Broom Polishing Potion and rubbing it in tiny circles along the shaft of his state-of-the-art broom. “Only the one time I needed it.”
Rabastan’s eyes were open, drinking in the information. In a little over a year, Hogwarts would be his school as well. The good thing about an elder brother, of course, was that he would walk in already knowing what was what, and he could lead all of his friends through the place.
“Wow. Are there other secret rooms? O-oh, are there secret passages?”
Rodolphus shrugged. “I don’t spend my time looking for secret passages, Rabbit. There may be some. It’s an old building.”
Rabastan pouted. His widened dark-blue eyes begged his brother for anything else, anything to latch onto or tell his friends about. Rodolphus shook his head and continued polishing his broomstick, but when he looked back up, he met the same begging eyes.
"Fine," he sighed. "I guess there's the Chamber of Secrets."
The sad begging eyes lit up. "Have you been there?"
"No, Rabbit. It's secret. Hence the name. The story is that Salazar Slytherin himself, after a long fight with the other Founders, grew so frustrated with their stubbornness that he left. But before he did, he built a hidden chamber somewhere in the castle."
"Wo-oow. What's in it? A monster?"
Rodolphus shrugged. "Something like that." He went back to work, and the stainless steel footrest of the broom gleamed.
"But. But Dolph, have you seen the monster?"
"What?" Rodolphus looked up again. "No, Rabbit. It's just a story. It's probably not even true."
Rabastan scrunched his face and looked around the courtyard. He was about to turn back and ask about the forests surrounding the castle when he caught sight of his Father, crossing the yard from one wing of the house to the other. Theodore Lestrange’s silvery robes caught the breeze and fluttered around his legs.
"Good afternoon, Rodolphus," he said as he approached. And, after a second, he added, “Rabastan.”
Rodolphus shifted his broom and cloth into one hand, and both stood. “Good afternoon, Sir,” they responded together.
“Father?” Rabastan caught his opportunity. “Father, Dolph says the Chamber of Secrets is just a story but is it just a story?” He stepped his right foot forward and tilted his head in curiosity.
Theodore raised his eyebrows and clasped his hands behind his back. “Honestly, Rabastan, how would I know that?”
“But you know everything,” Rabastan protested.
Flattery apparently did not always work, because his father simply laughed dryly. He brought one hand forward and turned his gaze toward his elder son. “Rodolphus, have you had a chance to look at the spellbook I left for you?”
“Yes, Father. Just a bit. I’ll return to it tonight.”
“Very good. Tomorrow after supper, come to my study and we’ll go over the first three spells from the list I included.”
“Yes, Sir.”
And that was that. The wizard swept away, along the path, toward a spiral stair in the courtyard’s corner that led to his study, and the boys sat back down.
“Do you honestly have lessons already?” Rabastan asked. “You only just finished your exams.”
Rodolphus slowly inhaled, but contained the sigh that tried to follow. “There’s a lot to learn,” he said instead. “Father is just being sure to fill in the gaps of my education.”
“How many gaps could you have? You’re about the cleverest person I know,” Rabastan praised. “I bet you make all the top marks on your exams.”
His brother laughed. “Thanks, Rabbit. We’ll see -- OWL results don’t come back for a month, yet. But even so, Hogwarts does not teach everything.”
“Like what?”
“Like how to run an estate and manage affairs with the Ministry.”
Rabastan knew that, but he also knew that his brother had been learning those skills for years, and they had nothing to do with tomorrow’s lesson. “That’s not magic.”
“There’s some involved. This house is not merely a pile of stones, you know.”
“That’s not spellbook magic, though.”
“No.”
“What spells don’t they teach, then?” He knew the answer well enough, but now there was principle involved. Rabastan refused to be cautiously stepped around like a little child. “Dark spells?”
And Rodolphus was better at reading Rabastan than anyone other than Sirius, and Maman possibly. He looked blankly at his brother and said, “Yes, Dark Arts. But other magic, too. Anything specialised, or dangerous, that you wouldn’t want to trust in the hands of some of the … students of lower quality. Curse-breakers, Healers, even Aurors, get training after school. I’m just getting a head start, you could say.”
“Hm. That makes sense.” Rabastan looked at the ground. Sometimes it was fun to think about the adventures or myriad other things he could do when he grew up, but other times it was just miserable. What would he actually do? Maybe, he thought, he would start some exciting enterprise with Regulus, once they were older and Sirius got sucked into boring family business.
“Rabbit?”
“Yes.” He did not look up.
“You can tell me if something’s wrong, you know.”
“Healers learn extra magic at Saint Mungo’s, and Aurors have older Aurors, and Father’s teaching you how to be like him. But who’ll teach me?” He looked up and saw Rodolphus opening his mouth for some smooth reply. “And don’t say Father, because he won’t,” he added in challenge.
Rodolphus apparently had not expected that final sting of reality. His features drew together in pity, and he tousled his younger brother’s hair. “I’ll teach you whatever I can, little Rabbit.”
Rabastan now looked up, with a hint of hopefulness. “Promise?”
“Promise.” Rodolphus nodded and swept the back-side of the cloth once over the length of the broom. “But no magic, dark or otherwise, until you at least can levitate your books.”
Rabastan could live with that. “All right.”
“You know what else they don’t teach at Hogwarts?”
“What?”
“How to be the best elder brother ever.” Rodolphus spun his freshly-polished broom in the air. “I think a bit of flying would be good practise for that.”
Rabastan laughed, sharp and boyish. “You don’t need any lessons in that, Dolph.”
Rodolphus grinned. “Maybe not. I suppose I can just go flying on my own then . . .” he teased.
“No!” Rabastan jumped. Standing, he was tall enough to look his still-seated brother eye-to-eye. “I meant to say that you need loads of practise. Like Father says, there is no skill you cannot improve.”
Chapter Number/Title: June 1970: School (40/100) [[ Previous | Next]]
Rating: G
Word Count: 1123
Workshop?: If you see something!
June 30, 1970
School
“And you never saw the room again?”
“No,” Rodolphus said, dabbing a cloth in a bottle of Buxby’s Broom Polishing Potion and rubbing it in tiny circles along the shaft of his state-of-the-art broom. “Only the one time I needed it.”
Rabastan’s eyes were open, drinking in the information. In a little over a year, Hogwarts would be his school as well. The good thing about an elder brother, of course, was that he would walk in already knowing what was what, and he could lead all of his friends through the place.
“Wow. Are there other secret rooms? O-oh, are there secret passages?”
Rodolphus shrugged. “I don’t spend my time looking for secret passages, Rabbit. There may be some. It’s an old building.”
Rabastan pouted. His widened dark-blue eyes begged his brother for anything else, anything to latch onto or tell his friends about. Rodolphus shook his head and continued polishing his broomstick, but when he looked back up, he met the same begging eyes.
"Fine," he sighed. "I guess there's the Chamber of Secrets."
The sad begging eyes lit up. "Have you been there?"
"No, Rabbit. It's secret. Hence the name. The story is that Salazar Slytherin himself, after a long fight with the other Founders, grew so frustrated with their stubbornness that he left. But before he did, he built a hidden chamber somewhere in the castle."
"Wo-oow. What's in it? A monster?"
Rodolphus shrugged. "Something like that." He went back to work, and the stainless steel footrest of the broom gleamed.
"But. But Dolph, have you seen the monster?"
"What?" Rodolphus looked up again. "No, Rabbit. It's just a story. It's probably not even true."
Rabastan scrunched his face and looked around the courtyard. He was about to turn back and ask about the forests surrounding the castle when he caught sight of his Father, crossing the yard from one wing of the house to the other. Theodore Lestrange’s silvery robes caught the breeze and fluttered around his legs.
"Good afternoon, Rodolphus," he said as he approached. And, after a second, he added, “Rabastan.”
Rodolphus shifted his broom and cloth into one hand, and both stood. “Good afternoon, Sir,” they responded together.
“Father?” Rabastan caught his opportunity. “Father, Dolph says the Chamber of Secrets is just a story but is it just a story?” He stepped his right foot forward and tilted his head in curiosity.
Theodore raised his eyebrows and clasped his hands behind his back. “Honestly, Rabastan, how would I know that?”
“But you know everything,” Rabastan protested.
Flattery apparently did not always work, because his father simply laughed dryly. He brought one hand forward and turned his gaze toward his elder son. “Rodolphus, have you had a chance to look at the spellbook I left for you?”
“Yes, Father. Just a bit. I’ll return to it tonight.”
“Very good. Tomorrow after supper, come to my study and we’ll go over the first three spells from the list I included.”
“Yes, Sir.”
And that was that. The wizard swept away, along the path, toward a spiral stair in the courtyard’s corner that led to his study, and the boys sat back down.
“Do you honestly have lessons already?” Rabastan asked. “You only just finished your exams.”
Rodolphus slowly inhaled, but contained the sigh that tried to follow. “There’s a lot to learn,” he said instead. “Father is just being sure to fill in the gaps of my education.”
“How many gaps could you have? You’re about the cleverest person I know,” Rabastan praised. “I bet you make all the top marks on your exams.”
His brother laughed. “Thanks, Rabbit. We’ll see -- OWL results don’t come back for a month, yet. But even so, Hogwarts does not teach everything.”
“Like what?”
“Like how to run an estate and manage affairs with the Ministry.”
Rabastan knew that, but he also knew that his brother had been learning those skills for years, and they had nothing to do with tomorrow’s lesson. “That’s not magic.”
“There’s some involved. This house is not merely a pile of stones, you know.”
“That’s not spellbook magic, though.”
“No.”
“What spells don’t they teach, then?” He knew the answer well enough, but now there was principle involved. Rabastan refused to be cautiously stepped around like a little child. “Dark spells?”
And Rodolphus was better at reading Rabastan than anyone other than Sirius, and Maman possibly. He looked blankly at his brother and said, “Yes, Dark Arts. But other magic, too. Anything specialised, or dangerous, that you wouldn’t want to trust in the hands of some of the … students of lower quality. Curse-breakers, Healers, even Aurors, get training after school. I’m just getting a head start, you could say.”
“Hm. That makes sense.” Rabastan looked at the ground. Sometimes it was fun to think about the adventures or myriad other things he could do when he grew up, but other times it was just miserable. What would he actually do? Maybe, he thought, he would start some exciting enterprise with Regulus, once they were older and Sirius got sucked into boring family business.
“Rabbit?”
“Yes.” He did not look up.
“You can tell me if something’s wrong, you know.”
“Healers learn extra magic at Saint Mungo’s, and Aurors have older Aurors, and Father’s teaching you how to be like him. But who’ll teach me?” He looked up and saw Rodolphus opening his mouth for some smooth reply. “And don’t say Father, because he won’t,” he added in challenge.
Rodolphus apparently had not expected that final sting of reality. His features drew together in pity, and he tousled his younger brother’s hair. “I’ll teach you whatever I can, little Rabbit.”
Rabastan now looked up, with a hint of hopefulness. “Promise?”
“Promise.” Rodolphus nodded and swept the back-side of the cloth once over the length of the broom. “But no magic, dark or otherwise, until you at least can levitate your books.”
Rabastan could live with that. “All right.”
“You know what else they don’t teach at Hogwarts?”
“What?”
“How to be the best elder brother ever.” Rodolphus spun his freshly-polished broom in the air. “I think a bit of flying would be good practise for that.”
Rabastan laughed, sharp and boyish. “You don’t need any lessons in that, Dolph.”
Rodolphus grinned. “Maybe not. I suppose I can just go flying on my own then . . .” he teased.
“No!” Rabastan jumped. Standing, he was tall enough to look his still-seated brother eye-to-eye. “I meant to say that you need loads of practise. Like Father says, there is no skill you cannot improve.”