Rabbit: August 1970
Title: Rabbit
Chapter Number/Title: August 1970: Blue (42/100) [[ Previous | Next]]
Rating: G
Word Count: 4167
Workshop?: Suggestions welcome.
NOTE: This is directly followed by Chapter V (Summer 1970) of Sirius (working title).
August 19-21, 1970
Blue
Wednesday:
“Father, if you’re finished with the Prophet, might I borrow it?” Rodolphus turned his fork down on his empty plate, and in an instant it vanished.
Theodore answered with a dismissive wave. “I suppose I can delay today’s headache by a few minutes,” he surmised, picking up a rolled parchment that had been delivered that morning.
“Thank you, Sir.” Rodolphus unfolded the paper and thumbed to the third page with purpose. “Ah, here. I heard the Wireless right: Marquez was caught using illegal quickening potions, and has been disqualified from the Cup. That’ll be quite the blow for Peru. See, Rabbit?” He shuffled the paper so that his little brother could see the photograph of Marquez shielding himself from the flashing cameras.
“Wow,” said Rabastan, looking up for his porridge. “But that’s good, right? I mean, good for France.”
“Fantastic for France.”
Theodore Lestrange looked over his letter and looked on his elder son with disdain. “Rodolphus, I had hoped you were attempting to keep abreast of the news. You’ll read beyond the sports, won’t you.” It was not a question.
“Of course, Father,” Rodolphus accepted, a bit deflated.
Rabastan mushed his porridge angrily. If they were not allowed to go to the match, they should at least be left to read what they could. Quidditch had been a touchy subject in the Lestrange household since Rodolphus had asked for tickets and been given a flat-out “no” six months ago, and the tension had only worsened as the date of the match approached. Rabastan had become particularly grouchy when he had learned that Sirius’ father had secured seats for himself and the Black boys, and Sirius’ begging to bring Rabastan along had been met to no avail.
“Rabastan Algernon,” Maman scolded. The mushing stopped, and he resumed eating it, though the anger was not gone. The family finished their breakfast in silence as the distant grandfather clock chimed the hours. “Come now,” she said. “Hurry and dress. We’re expected in the parlour at fifteen past.”
Dressing did not take long, and soon Rabastan was knocking on his brother’s door.
“Come in,” called Rodolphus.
He was already dressed, but stood in front of his mirror, adjusting his robes. “A bit to the left, dear,” the mirror advised, and he pulled the robe accordingly. “Oh, yes, that’s it.”
“Hello, Rabbit.”
“Hi, Dolph. Ready?”
Rodolphus combed his fingers through his loose curls, and turned around. “I think that does it. To the parlour?” Rabastan nodded and waited for his brother to pass through the door. He felt the hand of the older boy smooth his own stubborn cowlick, and give a pat on the arm. “Chin up, Rabbit. It’s just a match. There’s always next time.”
“In four years,” grumbled Rabastan. “And not with France.”
“I know.” Rodolphus sighed heavily. “Believe me, I know. But in four years I’ll be twenty, and I’ll get us the tickets ourselves. And who knows, maybe it’ll be England next time.”
Rabastan half-heartedly smiled up at his brother.
“Come on, don’t want to keep them waiting,” Rodolphus urged, and led the way down the hall to the grand staircase.
Thursday:
“So: floreat felicitas?”
Rabastan sighed. Some days, four hours of tutoring was not so bad. Others, it was dreadful. In the summer, it was almost always dreadful.
“Floreat felicitas, Mister Lestrange.”
“May happiness flourish.”
“Very good.” Peter Greengrass tucked a stray red hair behind his head and looked up from the parchment. The clock began tolling the hour, and any shred of attention that Rabastan had retained was now thoroughly dissolved.
“Are we finished?” he asked.
Peter sighed. “Yes.”
Rabastan beamed and jumped from his seat. “Thank you, Mister Greengrass,” he said, restraining himself from leaving the library as quickly as possible. As he turned and hurried to the door, though, he found it blocked. Maman stood, impassive and quiet. Behind her, Rabastan could see his brother, standing in the hall.
“Come, Rabastan,” she said. “Peter, you are welcome to stay for a luncheon, if you would like. We’re having lamb.”
“It’s a gracious offer, Missus Lestrange, but I’m afraid I have to decline. I’ll see you Monday, then.”
Rabastan raised haughty eyebrows. “It’s Thursday, Mister Greengrass. I expect you’ll be back tomorrow, not Monday.”
“Ah, yes! Silly me.” His eyes met Angelique’s and glimmered. “Well done, today, Rabastan.”
“Thank you,” the boy responded dutifully. “Maman, what’s Dolph doing here? Is it not time to eat?”
“Soon, soon. We have visitors in the parlour, first.”
“Visitors?” Rabastan asked. His mother did not answer, and simply led the way. “Dolph, do you know who it is?”
“I don’t, mon petit. I was fetched from the outdoors. Patience, though. The parlour’s not a long walk.”
It was not long at all, and waiting in the parlour were three wizards: Rabastan’s father, Liam Avery, and Cygnus Black. Rabastan’s eyes lit up: Liam usually was accompanied by good news. He saw Cygnus smile and hold out a hand to greet Rodolphus, and Liam bent his knees and met Rabastan’s eye.
“Hello, little Rabbit. Getting bigger all the time, though! You aren’t taller than Darren yet, are you?”
“No, Uncle Liam. I think we’re about the same. What are you doing with Mister Black?”
“Ah, that!” Liam stood up, and shook Rodolphus’ hand. “See, it occurred to me that both of you boys have fairly important birthdays this autumn. Rabbit, soon you’ll be old enough to own a wand. And Rodolphus, you’re nearly of age! So Cygnus and I were talking, and we wanted to do something special for our godsons, you see. Take you somewhere exciting before you hit those big days.”
Rabastan furrowed his brow in puzzlement and looked to Rodolphus for any hints. He only found a shrug and wide brown eyes.
“Are we going on a trip, Mister Black?” Rodolphus asked. “With you and Mister Avery?”
Cygnus smiled knowingly. “You are,” he said. “And we took the liberty of including a couple of your friends, as well. Lucius Malfoy and Bella--”
“--and Evan Rosier and Darren,” finished Liam. “We’d bring Sirius Black, of course, Rabbit, but we’re leaving tomorrow, and you know his family left last night.”
“Yes. For the Cup,” sighed Rabastan. His big birthday present, being spent without Sirius? He stomped down on any ungrateful thoughts. “So where are we going?”
“We,” said Liam, reaching into an inner pocket in his robes, “are going to Indonesia.”
“Tomorrow?” Rodolphus asked, putting together the pieces and beaming. Liam and Cygnus nodded. “Tomorrow, to Indonesia?”
“Nine o’clock sharp,” said Cygnus.
“Mister Black.” Rodolphus’ tone gained the faintest hint of ice. “If you aren’t saying what I think you are, you ought to tell us straightaway--”
Liam interrupted by clearing his throat, and Rabastan’s eyes widened, seeing the papers he was now brandishing. “Tickets...” They were unmistakable: Sirius had shown him some, bright red and white and pale blue. They were going -- “To the Quidditch World Cup!” Liam announced.
The corners of Rodolphus’ mouth pulled into a smile and his eyes sparkled with joyful wonder, while Rabastan still looked a bit in shock, not quite believing that this could be real.
Liam broke into laughter. “Look at you two, like a couple of Muggles seeing magic! Put your eyes back in your heads, already.”
Rodolphus snapped to and shook Cygnus’ hand with vigor. “Thank you, Sir. This is truly -- spectacular, I’d say.”
Rabastan moved automatically, thanking Liam, but too bewildered to really think, until he felt Rodolphus grab his shoulder.
“The World Cup, Rabbit! We’re actually going!”
The daze faded, and he accepted reality. They were going! And all the refusals, the Blacks not bringing him along -- that all made sense now.
“Mister Black,” Rodolphus was asking, “Does Lucius know yet?”
“Oh, yes. He’s known for some time.”
“That berk,” Rodolphus laughed.
“And Darren and Evan?” Rabastan asked.
Liam grinned. “Darren’s been beside himself over it!”
“But not Sirius?”
The grin fell to an awkward lopsided smile. “Well, no. We didn’t want him to spoil the surprise.”
Rabastan might have been annoyed, but he was in much too good of a mood for that. Instead, he was pleased, remembering how his friend had begged on his behalf. “That’s all right, Uncle Liam. Now we get to surprise him!” he said at last. “How are we getting there?”
Cygnus spoke now. “We’ll meet at the Averys', and then take a Portkey directly to the site. Orion and the boys are visiting my brother, so they’ll be arriving separately. We must be together, absolutely ready to leave, at half eight.”
The boys nodded.
“That’s it, then! Happy birthday, boys,” concluded Liam. Rodolphus and Rabastan repeated their words of thanks, until Angelique drew them back with a hand on each shoulder.
“The meal is ready, I believe,” she announced. “Messieurs Avery and Black, you are staying, are you not? We have a duck ragout with mustard croutes...”
“We’ll take ours indoors, Angelique, and you and the boys can dine in the courtyard,” said Theodore.
“Very well, I’ll have that set right away.” She ducked into the hallway and spoke to an Elf in hushed tones, and then re-entered. “It is arranged. Rodolphus, Rabastan, with me,” she ordered, and they followed her out.
Friday:
“Rabbit! Rabbit! Wake up!”
Rabastan felt his body jostled and heard Rodolphus’ voice close in.
“It’s today, Rabbit, the World Cup!”
The World Cup. The details from the day before came flooding back -- Mister Black and Uncle Liam, the Quidditch World Cup tickets, Indonesia... Rabastan sat up and rubbed sleep from his eye to see his brother sitting on the edge of his bed, wearing a stupid grin.
“This must be how you feel every time I wake you up,” Rabastan mused.
“That’s right.” Rodolphus laughed and ripped the blankets down, making Rabastan shudder with the shock of the morning air. Even in August, the moors rarely got warm enough to leave off a jumper or outer robe. “Come on, it’s already past seven. Father says we must be ‘ready to walk into the fire at twenty minutes past the eighth hour and not one minute later,’” he said in his best rendition of Theodore Lestrange’s voice.
“You sound exactly like him,” said Rabastan.
Rodolphus wrinkled his nose and jumped up. “Back to myself, then. Which means I will carry you over my shoulder if I must for us to arrive on time. Your rucksack’s nearly set to go with robes and the like, and I made sure you were only given the proper colors. Can’t have anyone taking you for a Peru supporter, can we?”
Rabastan shook his head and found himself grinning along. The enthusiasm was infectious.
“Good. Now up and wash your face and get some breakfast.” Rodolphus turned and walked into the hall, but then popped his head back in. “Allez! Allez, les fusées bleues!” he sang, until Laurens the Bear flew at his face and the door snapped shut.
One hour and seven minutes later, Rabastan walked into the parlour with his rucksack and a stomach full of miniature pixies. Rodolphus was pacing and listening to a Quidditch expert on the wireless giving the latest analysis and predictions. Angelique floated in behind her younger son and kissed the crown of his head as she silenced the wireless. “Your father is coming from his study now. Be very good,” she advised. “Et montrer au monde comment un Lestrange se comporte. Ne laissez pas les Blacks de vous convaincre de faire quelque chose de stupide,” she ordered, looking concerned. “Rodolphus, that goes for you as well. I know Bellatrix--”
“Never, Maman,” he promised, and her brow smoothed over.
“And be gracious,” she added, “whether we win or lose. La France est un pays civilisé.”
“Enough of that,” said Theodore, sweeping into the room. “You’ve spent plenty of years teaching them how to behave. I am sure they can handle two nights. And it’s time for us to go. Come now. We’re meeting at the Averys’.”
Theodore opened the grated gate to the fireplace and tossed a handful of Floo powder in before walking into the green flames. Rodolphus imitated him, and Rabastan followed last. He walked into the familiar drawing room and saw his father greeting Cygnus and Bellatrix Black. Lucius waved to Rodolphus, and the two struck up a conversation immediately. Liam Avery sat in a large chair, smoking a pipe. Darren was missing, but it was only five seconds before he bounded into the room.
Rabastan could hardly say hello before he was bombarded with words.
“Rabbit! Isn’t this just so exciting? I don’t know what Father told you, but it was my idea, you know. I thought, hey, what would Rabbit and Dolph love? Quidditch. And we can all go together! I know I’m not as big of fan as you and your brother, but I think it’ll be great fun, and besides, we get to go to Indonesia. Have you been to Indonesia before, Rabbit?”
“No,” he said.
“I haven’t either. I’ve been reading, though, and I think it will be quite the adventure. Did you know that there are over seventeen-thousand islands, but only six thousand that are inhabited? I just learned that this morning. That’s where the Quidditch match will be, on one of those islands. And Indonesia has more native species than any country after Australia! I don’t know if that’s just regular creatures, or magical ones as well. The book didn’t say. Oh, look, it’s Evan!”
Rabastan turned around and saw Darius and Evan Rosier step out of the fireplace. Mister Rosier handed something to Evan, gave a short nod to the other men, and vanished back into the Floo. Rodolphus was pulled aside by his own father, who whispered something and then walked off before bidding Rabastan a good-bye.
Viola Avery appeared in the doorway of the drawing room, carrying two baskets and leading an Elf and a parade of floating small packs. “Food for the journey,” she announced. Liam lept up and levitated the baskets out of her arms and dropped one each in the hands of Rodolphus and Lucius. In three long strides, he had her in his arms.
“Darling, you know the journey’s a matter of minutes. This’ll last us the whole trip. Now how willI teach Darren to hunt and cook his own livelihood?”
“Oh, you,” Viola tittered. “There are also kits for everyone. It can get dreadfully hot there, you remember. There’s potion for sunburns, and a wandless fire-starter for the children, and dowsing rods, if they lose water, and --”
“I’m sure you’ve thought of everything.”
“Are you positive you don’t want an Elf? Three wizards and eight children, and not one Elf, Liam?”
“Positive! We can rough it. I couldn’t take any help away from you, anyway.”
That seemed to mollify Viola. She kissed her husband’s nose and then bent down to give Darren a tight hug. “Stay safe, my little wizard,” she cooed.
“All right, then, we’re good to go,” said Liam, and Viola and the Elf stood back at the doorway, looking on. “I have a Portkey around here somewhere... luckily we’re already eight on our own, so it’s just us.” Liam furrowed his brow and opened a tall cabinet, shuffling items around. “What was it... ah, yes!” He drew out a straw hat and held it out to the others.
Cygnus drew out an whirring pocket-watch, and then slid it back into a pocket in his robes. “Eight-twenty-nine, local time. All together, then.” They circled around and each grabbed the rim of the hat.
In an instant, Rabastan found himself careening, pulled from his middle as he held fiercely on to his bit of the hat. And then, there they were: outside in extremely muggy heat, on a dock on an island, looking out at a sparkling sea. Between the climate change and the Portkey travel, Rabastan felt his stomach turn. He let go of the hat, which Darren promptly gathered to himself and set on his head. “Local time, fifty-thirty-one,” announced Cygnus, clicking his watch shut.
Officials stood at the end of the dock, taking information and handing out small maps. Rabastan realized that none of them knew three words of Indonesian -- at least, as far as he knew. Thankfully, the government was well-prepared for the World Cup, and had plenty of officials fluently checking in newcomers in French and Spanish. Rodolphus left Rabastan with the other boys, and muttered something to Liam, who pointed to one of the French-speaking officials. Behind them, new witches and wizards were falling in. One darker man in an extremely colorful woven tunic backed into Lucius, who scoffed and looked thoroughly uncomfortable with the entire situation. Rabastan found this a bit satisfying, as Lucius was so good at always looking comfortable in every other situation. Mostly, though, he wondered if Sirius and Regulus had come through this place as well. They must have, at some point -- or would they arrive later?
After ten minutes or so, Rodolphus came back and cleared his throat. “I’ve given them our names, and he says we’re at campsite five-zero-four-zero-one, down this path into the jungle, and at the first left.”
“Anything that gets us out of this crowd,” muttered Evan, as they began walking.
“And the island is completely uninhabited, so there’s no fuss about blending in with the Muggles,” Rodolphus added.
“Maybe Indonesia is not all bad,” said Lucius in his lazy drawl.
“I should say,” agreed Bellatrix. “Daddy,” she teased, “you should buy me one of theseislands. I shan’t even tell ‘Dromeda and Cissy, so they can’t be jealous.”
“Father,” Darren said, giving a tug to Liam’s robe. “Can we get a carpet? That man over there is selling them.” He gestured to a small-toothed wizard who was hovering quite comfortably on a carpet three feet off of the ground, unfurling and rolling up different carpets to appeal to passing potential customers. A monkey ran around his shoulder, and screeched to others that were leaping around the trees.
“That man would swindle you, Darren,” warned Cygnus Black. “And those are banned back in Britain, so you wouldn’t get much use.”
Darren’s face fell into a pout. “But Father, may I go look at the monkeys, then? They hardly cost any gold at all.”
“Let’s set up our tent first. Then you can see about the monkeys.”
The carpet-and-monkey-monger was only the first temptation. As they walked, they saw booths and caravans and wizards with oversized robes filled with small items, all looking for an eager face and a pocket full of gold. To everyone’s relief, Evan seized Darren’s arm and pulled him along toward the front of the line.
“Wow,” gasped Rabastan, pointing at a caravan full of flags and figurines and hats all in the unmistakable French blue-and-white.
“Not now, Rabbit,” snapped Evan. “It’s too hot.”
However, Rodolphus disagreed and peeled off to browse the selection, and no one dared argue. Rabastan broke from the other boys and ran to join his brother in the midst of the caravan. Blue sparklers popped and small Quidditch players on small brooms flurried overhead. In front of him was a tall striped hat with a face that cheered and booed. Rabastan put it on his head. “Dolph, look!”
“Merlin, Rabbit, that’s frightful,” Rodolphus said, removing it. “Here, if you want a hat...” He picked up a shorter white hat with a wider brim and a blue band around the center. “Oh, and look at this!” he said, picking up a pennant that, when waved, sang Allez! Allez, les fusées bleues! “That would drive Lucius mad, wouldn’t it?”
Rabastan chortled, and pulled down a blue megaphone. “I’m getting this,” he stated. He took his hat and horn to the peddler, and Rodolphus stepped over to join him, showing the pennants and souvenir Quidditch scarf. Rabastan picked up a matching scarf and added it to their pile, and Rodolphus paid. Behind them, Darren had gathered a small pile of sparklers and firecrackers and was in the process of attempting to haggle the price with the other peddler.
“I didn’t know you were supporting France,” said Rabastan.
“Well. I may.” Darren shrugged. “But we should load up on these for both teams. That way we can properly celebrate either way!”
Rabastan was not quite sure just what he thought of that. He didn’t think he would particularly want to celebrate if France lost... but then, Darren wasn’t half-French.
The three shoppers joined back with the group and turned left at the fork in the path. Happy as Rabastan was for his new things, Evan did have a point about the heat. 50401, it seemed, was all the way at the end of this row. That would mean less noise, of course, but also a longer walk. Path 504 did, at least, seem to hold the bigger plots. They passed no modest tents: only wonderful elaborate bits of magic boasting the finest materials and styles from respective nations. Rabastan noted a distinctly Indian tent with a family gathered under the shade outside of it, and one that had to be Peruvian -- it was covered in the same colorful fine-woven textiles as the clumsy man’s robes and festive music was blaring from inside. Finally, they found an open area corresponding with 5-0-4-0-1 on Rodolphus’ map.
“Here, then,” he announced.
There was no tent, though, and Rabastan looked around. They had left all Elves back in England, and no one seemed to be coming to assist them. That could not be right.
Cygnus Black dropped a canvas duffel on the ground. “Bella, why don’t you and Lucius go fetch us some water? We’ll be needing it.”
Bellatrix rolled her eyes but set back on the path. “Keep up, Malfoy,” she snapped.
“Now boys,” Cygnus continued, “Rodolphus and Mister Avery and I will use our wands to lift the tent into place. We’re roughing it a bit here, so we’ll need each of you to follow us and affix it to the ground. Evan, work with me. Darren, you and Rodolphus take the far side. Rabastan, there, with Liam.”
Darren grinned and weaved his way between the others to go to the back of the plot. “Dolph, back here!” he called.
“Sir, shouldn’t Bellatrix be doing this? She’s of age and I’m --”
“Nonsense, Rodolphus,” dismissed Cygnus. “We’re in blasted Indonesia. No one cares if you’re sixteen. Now I just have to remember how my brother arranges this thing...” He drew his wand and moved the tent across the clearing. “Ah, yes, after me.” With a flourish and incantation, he brought one corner up and Evan dutifully ran a cord to hold the wall down.
Rodolphus and Liam imitated Cygnus, and the group worked methodically. After a little time and a lot of sweating, the whole tent was up and stabilized, and Bellatrix could be heard whistling on the path with complaints from Lucius behind her. It was large for a tent, though small for a house. Bellatrix walked in without comment, leading a parade of water-buckets behind her. Rodolphus circled to the front to greet them with a proud grin.
“If anyone ever again proposes a weekend without an Elf,” Lucius said to him, “remind me to kill them without further discussion.”
Rodolphus laughed and followed his friends inside, and the boys gathered to the front to see inside. From outside, the tent seemed the size of a small cottage, but inside was a large open space with furnishings collected from world travels and a large round table with a kitchen in the rear.
Darren and Evan ran into the first room on the left. Rabastan peeked in and saw a rustic cabin-like room with bunk beds -- shelves, really, with bedding slotted in -- on each of the three walls.
“You three are in that room, with the Black brothers when they come” Cygnus said to the boys. “And you older boys in the next one behind them.”
The Black brothers! In all the excitement Rabastan had nearly forgotten. And right on time, the voices of three Blacks could be heard outside the tent.
“See, Reggie, I told you the tent would be set up for us,” Sirius boasted. “It’s a little small -- but I guess for the three of us it’ll do.”
Rabastan pulled aside the front curtain and grinned ear to ear. “What about the eleven of us, then?”
“Rabbit!” Sirius bolted forward to his friend. “You’re here! You’re really here?”
A little rosette in Peruvian red and white drew attention to itself. “Only if you agree to cheer for France.”
“That’s a deal.” He flicked the rosette off and threw his arm around Rabastan. Together, they moved into the cool refuge of the tent, where a waving pennant was singing: Allez! Allez les fusées bleues!
Chapter Number/Title: August 1970: Blue (42/100) [[ Previous | Next]]
Rating: G
Word Count: 4167
Workshop?: Suggestions welcome.
NOTE: This is directly followed by Chapter V (Summer 1970) of Sirius (working title).
August 19-21, 1970
Blue
Wednesday:
“Father, if you’re finished with the Prophet, might I borrow it?” Rodolphus turned his fork down on his empty plate, and in an instant it vanished.
Theodore answered with a dismissive wave. “I suppose I can delay today’s headache by a few minutes,” he surmised, picking up a rolled parchment that had been delivered that morning.
“Thank you, Sir.” Rodolphus unfolded the paper and thumbed to the third page with purpose. “Ah, here. I heard the Wireless right: Marquez was caught using illegal quickening potions, and has been disqualified from the Cup. That’ll be quite the blow for Peru. See, Rabbit?” He shuffled the paper so that his little brother could see the photograph of Marquez shielding himself from the flashing cameras.
“Wow,” said Rabastan, looking up for his porridge. “But that’s good, right? I mean, good for France.”
“Fantastic for France.”
Theodore Lestrange looked over his letter and looked on his elder son with disdain. “Rodolphus, I had hoped you were attempting to keep abreast of the news. You’ll read beyond the sports, won’t you.” It was not a question.
“Of course, Father,” Rodolphus accepted, a bit deflated.
Rabastan mushed his porridge angrily. If they were not allowed to go to the match, they should at least be left to read what they could. Quidditch had been a touchy subject in the Lestrange household since Rodolphus had asked for tickets and been given a flat-out “no” six months ago, and the tension had only worsened as the date of the match approached. Rabastan had become particularly grouchy when he had learned that Sirius’ father had secured seats for himself and the Black boys, and Sirius’ begging to bring Rabastan along had been met to no avail.
“Rabastan Algernon,” Maman scolded. The mushing stopped, and he resumed eating it, though the anger was not gone. The family finished their breakfast in silence as the distant grandfather clock chimed the hours. “Come now,” she said. “Hurry and dress. We’re expected in the parlour at fifteen past.”
Dressing did not take long, and soon Rabastan was knocking on his brother’s door.
“Come in,” called Rodolphus.
He was already dressed, but stood in front of his mirror, adjusting his robes. “A bit to the left, dear,” the mirror advised, and he pulled the robe accordingly. “Oh, yes, that’s it.”
“Hello, Rabbit.”
“Hi, Dolph. Ready?”
Rodolphus combed his fingers through his loose curls, and turned around. “I think that does it. To the parlour?” Rabastan nodded and waited for his brother to pass through the door. He felt the hand of the older boy smooth his own stubborn cowlick, and give a pat on the arm. “Chin up, Rabbit. It’s just a match. There’s always next time.”
“In four years,” grumbled Rabastan. “And not with France.”
“I know.” Rodolphus sighed heavily. “Believe me, I know. But in four years I’ll be twenty, and I’ll get us the tickets ourselves. And who knows, maybe it’ll be England next time.”
Rabastan half-heartedly smiled up at his brother.
“Come on, don’t want to keep them waiting,” Rodolphus urged, and led the way down the hall to the grand staircase.
Thursday:
“So: floreat felicitas?”
Rabastan sighed. Some days, four hours of tutoring was not so bad. Others, it was dreadful. In the summer, it was almost always dreadful.
“Floreat felicitas, Mister Lestrange.”
“May happiness flourish.”
“Very good.” Peter Greengrass tucked a stray red hair behind his head and looked up from the parchment. The clock began tolling the hour, and any shred of attention that Rabastan had retained was now thoroughly dissolved.
“Are we finished?” he asked.
Peter sighed. “Yes.”
Rabastan beamed and jumped from his seat. “Thank you, Mister Greengrass,” he said, restraining himself from leaving the library as quickly as possible. As he turned and hurried to the door, though, he found it blocked. Maman stood, impassive and quiet. Behind her, Rabastan could see his brother, standing in the hall.
“Come, Rabastan,” she said. “Peter, you are welcome to stay for a luncheon, if you would like. We’re having lamb.”
“It’s a gracious offer, Missus Lestrange, but I’m afraid I have to decline. I’ll see you Monday, then.”
Rabastan raised haughty eyebrows. “It’s Thursday, Mister Greengrass. I expect you’ll be back tomorrow, not Monday.”
“Ah, yes! Silly me.” His eyes met Angelique’s and glimmered. “Well done, today, Rabastan.”
“Thank you,” the boy responded dutifully. “Maman, what’s Dolph doing here? Is it not time to eat?”
“Soon, soon. We have visitors in the parlour, first.”
“Visitors?” Rabastan asked. His mother did not answer, and simply led the way. “Dolph, do you know who it is?”
“I don’t, mon petit. I was fetched from the outdoors. Patience, though. The parlour’s not a long walk.”
It was not long at all, and waiting in the parlour were three wizards: Rabastan’s father, Liam Avery, and Cygnus Black. Rabastan’s eyes lit up: Liam usually was accompanied by good news. He saw Cygnus smile and hold out a hand to greet Rodolphus, and Liam bent his knees and met Rabastan’s eye.
“Hello, little Rabbit. Getting bigger all the time, though! You aren’t taller than Darren yet, are you?”
“No, Uncle Liam. I think we’re about the same. What are you doing with Mister Black?”
“Ah, that!” Liam stood up, and shook Rodolphus’ hand. “See, it occurred to me that both of you boys have fairly important birthdays this autumn. Rabbit, soon you’ll be old enough to own a wand. And Rodolphus, you’re nearly of age! So Cygnus and I were talking, and we wanted to do something special for our godsons, you see. Take you somewhere exciting before you hit those big days.”
Rabastan furrowed his brow in puzzlement and looked to Rodolphus for any hints. He only found a shrug and wide brown eyes.
“Are we going on a trip, Mister Black?” Rodolphus asked. “With you and Mister Avery?”
Cygnus smiled knowingly. “You are,” he said. “And we took the liberty of including a couple of your friends, as well. Lucius Malfoy and Bella--”
“--and Evan Rosier and Darren,” finished Liam. “We’d bring Sirius Black, of course, Rabbit, but we’re leaving tomorrow, and you know his family left last night.”
“Yes. For the Cup,” sighed Rabastan. His big birthday present, being spent without Sirius? He stomped down on any ungrateful thoughts. “So where are we going?”
“We,” said Liam, reaching into an inner pocket in his robes, “are going to Indonesia.”
“Tomorrow?” Rodolphus asked, putting together the pieces and beaming. Liam and Cygnus nodded. “Tomorrow, to Indonesia?”
“Nine o’clock sharp,” said Cygnus.
“Mister Black.” Rodolphus’ tone gained the faintest hint of ice. “If you aren’t saying what I think you are, you ought to tell us straightaway--”
Liam interrupted by clearing his throat, and Rabastan’s eyes widened, seeing the papers he was now brandishing. “Tickets...” They were unmistakable: Sirius had shown him some, bright red and white and pale blue. They were going -- “To the Quidditch World Cup!” Liam announced.
The corners of Rodolphus’ mouth pulled into a smile and his eyes sparkled with joyful wonder, while Rabastan still looked a bit in shock, not quite believing that this could be real.
Liam broke into laughter. “Look at you two, like a couple of Muggles seeing magic! Put your eyes back in your heads, already.”
Rodolphus snapped to and shook Cygnus’ hand with vigor. “Thank you, Sir. This is truly -- spectacular, I’d say.”
Rabastan moved automatically, thanking Liam, but too bewildered to really think, until he felt Rodolphus grab his shoulder.
“The World Cup, Rabbit! We’re actually going!”
The daze faded, and he accepted reality. They were going! And all the refusals, the Blacks not bringing him along -- that all made sense now.
“Mister Black,” Rodolphus was asking, “Does Lucius know yet?”
“Oh, yes. He’s known for some time.”
“That berk,” Rodolphus laughed.
“And Darren and Evan?” Rabastan asked.
Liam grinned. “Darren’s been beside himself over it!”
“But not Sirius?”
The grin fell to an awkward lopsided smile. “Well, no. We didn’t want him to spoil the surprise.”
Rabastan might have been annoyed, but he was in much too good of a mood for that. Instead, he was pleased, remembering how his friend had begged on his behalf. “That’s all right, Uncle Liam. Now we get to surprise him!” he said at last. “How are we getting there?”
Cygnus spoke now. “We’ll meet at the Averys', and then take a Portkey directly to the site. Orion and the boys are visiting my brother, so they’ll be arriving separately. We must be together, absolutely ready to leave, at half eight.”
The boys nodded.
“That’s it, then! Happy birthday, boys,” concluded Liam. Rodolphus and Rabastan repeated their words of thanks, until Angelique drew them back with a hand on each shoulder.
“The meal is ready, I believe,” she announced. “Messieurs Avery and Black, you are staying, are you not? We have a duck ragout with mustard croutes...”
“We’ll take ours indoors, Angelique, and you and the boys can dine in the courtyard,” said Theodore.
“Very well, I’ll have that set right away.” She ducked into the hallway and spoke to an Elf in hushed tones, and then re-entered. “It is arranged. Rodolphus, Rabastan, with me,” she ordered, and they followed her out.
Friday:
“Rabbit! Rabbit! Wake up!”
Rabastan felt his body jostled and heard Rodolphus’ voice close in.
“It’s today, Rabbit, the World Cup!”
The World Cup. The details from the day before came flooding back -- Mister Black and Uncle Liam, the Quidditch World Cup tickets, Indonesia... Rabastan sat up and rubbed sleep from his eye to see his brother sitting on the edge of his bed, wearing a stupid grin.
“This must be how you feel every time I wake you up,” Rabastan mused.
“That’s right.” Rodolphus laughed and ripped the blankets down, making Rabastan shudder with the shock of the morning air. Even in August, the moors rarely got warm enough to leave off a jumper or outer robe. “Come on, it’s already past seven. Father says we must be ‘ready to walk into the fire at twenty minutes past the eighth hour and not one minute later,’” he said in his best rendition of Theodore Lestrange’s voice.
“You sound exactly like him,” said Rabastan.
Rodolphus wrinkled his nose and jumped up. “Back to myself, then. Which means I will carry you over my shoulder if I must for us to arrive on time. Your rucksack’s nearly set to go with robes and the like, and I made sure you were only given the proper colors. Can’t have anyone taking you for a Peru supporter, can we?”
Rabastan shook his head and found himself grinning along. The enthusiasm was infectious.
“Good. Now up and wash your face and get some breakfast.” Rodolphus turned and walked into the hall, but then popped his head back in. “Allez! Allez, les fusées bleues!” he sang, until Laurens the Bear flew at his face and the door snapped shut.
One hour and seven minutes later, Rabastan walked into the parlour with his rucksack and a stomach full of miniature pixies. Rodolphus was pacing and listening to a Quidditch expert on the wireless giving the latest analysis and predictions. Angelique floated in behind her younger son and kissed the crown of his head as she silenced the wireless. “Your father is coming from his study now. Be very good,” she advised. “Et montrer au monde comment un Lestrange se comporte. Ne laissez pas les Blacks de vous convaincre de faire quelque chose de stupide,” she ordered, looking concerned. “Rodolphus, that goes for you as well. I know Bellatrix--”
“Never, Maman,” he promised, and her brow smoothed over.
“And be gracious,” she added, “whether we win or lose. La France est un pays civilisé.”
“Enough of that,” said Theodore, sweeping into the room. “You’ve spent plenty of years teaching them how to behave. I am sure they can handle two nights. And it’s time for us to go. Come now. We’re meeting at the Averys’.”
Theodore opened the grated gate to the fireplace and tossed a handful of Floo powder in before walking into the green flames. Rodolphus imitated him, and Rabastan followed last. He walked into the familiar drawing room and saw his father greeting Cygnus and Bellatrix Black. Lucius waved to Rodolphus, and the two struck up a conversation immediately. Liam Avery sat in a large chair, smoking a pipe. Darren was missing, but it was only five seconds before he bounded into the room.
Rabastan could hardly say hello before he was bombarded with words.
“Rabbit! Isn’t this just so exciting? I don’t know what Father told you, but it was my idea, you know. I thought, hey, what would Rabbit and Dolph love? Quidditch. And we can all go together! I know I’m not as big of fan as you and your brother, but I think it’ll be great fun, and besides, we get to go to Indonesia. Have you been to Indonesia before, Rabbit?”
“No,” he said.
“I haven’t either. I’ve been reading, though, and I think it will be quite the adventure. Did you know that there are over seventeen-thousand islands, but only six thousand that are inhabited? I just learned that this morning. That’s where the Quidditch match will be, on one of those islands. And Indonesia has more native species than any country after Australia! I don’t know if that’s just regular creatures, or magical ones as well. The book didn’t say. Oh, look, it’s Evan!”
Rabastan turned around and saw Darius and Evan Rosier step out of the fireplace. Mister Rosier handed something to Evan, gave a short nod to the other men, and vanished back into the Floo. Rodolphus was pulled aside by his own father, who whispered something and then walked off before bidding Rabastan a good-bye.
Viola Avery appeared in the doorway of the drawing room, carrying two baskets and leading an Elf and a parade of floating small packs. “Food for the journey,” she announced. Liam lept up and levitated the baskets out of her arms and dropped one each in the hands of Rodolphus and Lucius. In three long strides, he had her in his arms.
“Darling, you know the journey’s a matter of minutes. This’ll last us the whole trip. Now how willI teach Darren to hunt and cook his own livelihood?”
“Oh, you,” Viola tittered. “There are also kits for everyone. It can get dreadfully hot there, you remember. There’s potion for sunburns, and a wandless fire-starter for the children, and dowsing rods, if they lose water, and --”
“I’m sure you’ve thought of everything.”
“Are you positive you don’t want an Elf? Three wizards and eight children, and not one Elf, Liam?”
“Positive! We can rough it. I couldn’t take any help away from you, anyway.”
That seemed to mollify Viola. She kissed her husband’s nose and then bent down to give Darren a tight hug. “Stay safe, my little wizard,” she cooed.
“All right, then, we’re good to go,” said Liam, and Viola and the Elf stood back at the doorway, looking on. “I have a Portkey around here somewhere... luckily we’re already eight on our own, so it’s just us.” Liam furrowed his brow and opened a tall cabinet, shuffling items around. “What was it... ah, yes!” He drew out a straw hat and held it out to the others.
Cygnus drew out an whirring pocket-watch, and then slid it back into a pocket in his robes. “Eight-twenty-nine, local time. All together, then.” They circled around and each grabbed the rim of the hat.
In an instant, Rabastan found himself careening, pulled from his middle as he held fiercely on to his bit of the hat. And then, there they were: outside in extremely muggy heat, on a dock on an island, looking out at a sparkling sea. Between the climate change and the Portkey travel, Rabastan felt his stomach turn. He let go of the hat, which Darren promptly gathered to himself and set on his head. “Local time, fifty-thirty-one,” announced Cygnus, clicking his watch shut.
Officials stood at the end of the dock, taking information and handing out small maps. Rabastan realized that none of them knew three words of Indonesian -- at least, as far as he knew. Thankfully, the government was well-prepared for the World Cup, and had plenty of officials fluently checking in newcomers in French and Spanish. Rodolphus left Rabastan with the other boys, and muttered something to Liam, who pointed to one of the French-speaking officials. Behind them, new witches and wizards were falling in. One darker man in an extremely colorful woven tunic backed into Lucius, who scoffed and looked thoroughly uncomfortable with the entire situation. Rabastan found this a bit satisfying, as Lucius was so good at always looking comfortable in every other situation. Mostly, though, he wondered if Sirius and Regulus had come through this place as well. They must have, at some point -- or would they arrive later?
After ten minutes or so, Rodolphus came back and cleared his throat. “I’ve given them our names, and he says we’re at campsite five-zero-four-zero-one, down this path into the jungle, and at the first left.”
“Anything that gets us out of this crowd,” muttered Evan, as they began walking.
“And the island is completely uninhabited, so there’s no fuss about blending in with the Muggles,” Rodolphus added.
“Maybe Indonesia is not all bad,” said Lucius in his lazy drawl.
“I should say,” agreed Bellatrix. “Daddy,” she teased, “you should buy me one of theseislands. I shan’t even tell ‘Dromeda and Cissy, so they can’t be jealous.”
“Father,” Darren said, giving a tug to Liam’s robe. “Can we get a carpet? That man over there is selling them.” He gestured to a small-toothed wizard who was hovering quite comfortably on a carpet three feet off of the ground, unfurling and rolling up different carpets to appeal to passing potential customers. A monkey ran around his shoulder, and screeched to others that were leaping around the trees.
“That man would swindle you, Darren,” warned Cygnus Black. “And those are banned back in Britain, so you wouldn’t get much use.”
Darren’s face fell into a pout. “But Father, may I go look at the monkeys, then? They hardly cost any gold at all.”
“Let’s set up our tent first. Then you can see about the monkeys.”
The carpet-and-monkey-monger was only the first temptation. As they walked, they saw booths and caravans and wizards with oversized robes filled with small items, all looking for an eager face and a pocket full of gold. To everyone’s relief, Evan seized Darren’s arm and pulled him along toward the front of the line.
“Wow,” gasped Rabastan, pointing at a caravan full of flags and figurines and hats all in the unmistakable French blue-and-white.
“Not now, Rabbit,” snapped Evan. “It’s too hot.”
However, Rodolphus disagreed and peeled off to browse the selection, and no one dared argue. Rabastan broke from the other boys and ran to join his brother in the midst of the caravan. Blue sparklers popped and small Quidditch players on small brooms flurried overhead. In front of him was a tall striped hat with a face that cheered and booed. Rabastan put it on his head. “Dolph, look!”
“Merlin, Rabbit, that’s frightful,” Rodolphus said, removing it. “Here, if you want a hat...” He picked up a shorter white hat with a wider brim and a blue band around the center. “Oh, and look at this!” he said, picking up a pennant that, when waved, sang Allez! Allez, les fusées bleues! “That would drive Lucius mad, wouldn’t it?”
Rabastan chortled, and pulled down a blue megaphone. “I’m getting this,” he stated. He took his hat and horn to the peddler, and Rodolphus stepped over to join him, showing the pennants and souvenir Quidditch scarf. Rabastan picked up a matching scarf and added it to their pile, and Rodolphus paid. Behind them, Darren had gathered a small pile of sparklers and firecrackers and was in the process of attempting to haggle the price with the other peddler.
“I didn’t know you were supporting France,” said Rabastan.
“Well. I may.” Darren shrugged. “But we should load up on these for both teams. That way we can properly celebrate either way!”
Rabastan was not quite sure just what he thought of that. He didn’t think he would particularly want to celebrate if France lost... but then, Darren wasn’t half-French.
The three shoppers joined back with the group and turned left at the fork in the path. Happy as Rabastan was for his new things, Evan did have a point about the heat. 50401, it seemed, was all the way at the end of this row. That would mean less noise, of course, but also a longer walk. Path 504 did, at least, seem to hold the bigger plots. They passed no modest tents: only wonderful elaborate bits of magic boasting the finest materials and styles from respective nations. Rabastan noted a distinctly Indian tent with a family gathered under the shade outside of it, and one that had to be Peruvian -- it was covered in the same colorful fine-woven textiles as the clumsy man’s robes and festive music was blaring from inside. Finally, they found an open area corresponding with 5-0-4-0-1 on Rodolphus’ map.
“Here, then,” he announced.
There was no tent, though, and Rabastan looked around. They had left all Elves back in England, and no one seemed to be coming to assist them. That could not be right.
Cygnus Black dropped a canvas duffel on the ground. “Bella, why don’t you and Lucius go fetch us some water? We’ll be needing it.”
Bellatrix rolled her eyes but set back on the path. “Keep up, Malfoy,” she snapped.
“Now boys,” Cygnus continued, “Rodolphus and Mister Avery and I will use our wands to lift the tent into place. We’re roughing it a bit here, so we’ll need each of you to follow us and affix it to the ground. Evan, work with me. Darren, you and Rodolphus take the far side. Rabastan, there, with Liam.”
Darren grinned and weaved his way between the others to go to the back of the plot. “Dolph, back here!” he called.
“Sir, shouldn’t Bellatrix be doing this? She’s of age and I’m --”
“Nonsense, Rodolphus,” dismissed Cygnus. “We’re in blasted Indonesia. No one cares if you’re sixteen. Now I just have to remember how my brother arranges this thing...” He drew his wand and moved the tent across the clearing. “Ah, yes, after me.” With a flourish and incantation, he brought one corner up and Evan dutifully ran a cord to hold the wall down.
Rodolphus and Liam imitated Cygnus, and the group worked methodically. After a little time and a lot of sweating, the whole tent was up and stabilized, and Bellatrix could be heard whistling on the path with complaints from Lucius behind her. It was large for a tent, though small for a house. Bellatrix walked in without comment, leading a parade of water-buckets behind her. Rodolphus circled to the front to greet them with a proud grin.
“If anyone ever again proposes a weekend without an Elf,” Lucius said to him, “remind me to kill them without further discussion.”
Rodolphus laughed and followed his friends inside, and the boys gathered to the front to see inside. From outside, the tent seemed the size of a small cottage, but inside was a large open space with furnishings collected from world travels and a large round table with a kitchen in the rear.
Darren and Evan ran into the first room on the left. Rabastan peeked in and saw a rustic cabin-like room with bunk beds -- shelves, really, with bedding slotted in -- on each of the three walls.
“You three are in that room, with the Black brothers when they come” Cygnus said to the boys. “And you older boys in the next one behind them.”
The Black brothers! In all the excitement Rabastan had nearly forgotten. And right on time, the voices of three Blacks could be heard outside the tent.
“See, Reggie, I told you the tent would be set up for us,” Sirius boasted. “It’s a little small -- but I guess for the three of us it’ll do.”
Rabastan pulled aside the front curtain and grinned ear to ear. “What about the eleven of us, then?”
“Rabbit!” Sirius bolted forward to his friend. “You’re here! You’re really here?”
A little rosette in Peruvian red and white drew attention to itself. “Only if you agree to cheer for France.”
“That’s a deal.” He flicked the rosette off and threw his arm around Rabastan. Together, they moved into the cool refuge of the tent, where a waving pennant was singing: Allez! Allez les fusées bleues!