Rabbit: May 1969
Title: Rabbit
Chapter Number/Title: May 1969: Shapes (27/100) [[ Previous | Next]]
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2494
Workshop?: Suggestions always welcome -- I'm not sure if I did this scene justice. A little unwieldy but it didn't work without it all. Hopefully the new small characters aren't too confusing!
May 24, 1969
Shapes
“But I want to build a fort!”
“Yes, but I want to explore!”
“No one wants to explore with you!”
“Sure they do! I’m the heir to the House of Black, don’t you know anything?”
“Well, la dee, Mister Black, I’m the heir to the House of Avery, and we’re better.”
“No one’s better.” Sirius crossed his arms and raised his nose higher than Rabbit thought it could go.
“Hup now!” he interrupted. “Watch what house you’re in.”
Thaddeus Yaxley stood up and pushed Darren and Sirius away from each other, and both fell, affronted, onto cushions. “As the eldest here, it’s my duty to put an end to this nonsense. Little Rabbit has a point. It’s his house - he’ll decide. Though,” he added, turning his stern face on Rabastan, “it better be something good.”
Rabastan swallowed, and looked over at the girls. They were sitting on the other side of the room, having a tea party. At least he wouldn’t have to please them, too. Really, he preferred a fort to exploring with a whole gang of boys in his own home, but Sirius would be furious. There had to be something else.
“Are you too old for pretend?”
Thaddeus scrunched his face and looked over at his friend Winthrop Wilkes. “Depends. Nothing for babies.”
“We aren’t babies!” shouted Sirius.
Win smirked. “Fine. I have a game. We’re an elite fighting unit, and there’s a big battle coming up. Now, Thad and I are the captains here, so we’ll have to stay at headquarters. And then we’ll send the rest of you out on missions to get information and keep our enemies from coming closer.”
Rabastan considered it. It sounded reasonable enough. “All right.”
He felt someone poke his arm. It was Regulus, looking up with his big eyes. “Can I be with you and Sirius?”
“Oh. Sure, I think so. As long as the captains give the go!” He looked over at Wilkes and Yaxley.
“Sure, whatever,” waved Thad.
Sirius might have hissed “Yessss,” and Rabastan would have bounced in his seat, but Regulus just smiled sheepishly and said, “Thanks.”
“So, what’s the mission?” Darren asked.
“You’ll get it when we tell you,” snapped Win, clearly enjoying his power while he had it. He punched Thaddeus Yaxley and the two began whispering.
Darren stuck his tongue out at Win’s turned back, and did not sit down. “Wilkes, where’s our flag?”
“What?” The freckle-faced older boy spun back and shot a fierce glare at Avery. “That’s Captain Wilkes to you, Avery. And we haven’t got a silly flag, we’re a special unit, not a whole nation.”
Rabastan’s arm shot up, still and straight, and he fixed his own gaze on the two self-appointed leaders. At Thad’s nod, the young boy stood, and smoothed down his tunic. “Captains Wilkes and Yaxley, Sirs, I think it might help, if it doesn’t interfere, to have a flag, to keep spirits up.”
Wilkes rolled his eyes and turned to Yaxley, and a brief silence fell over the boys. It was quickly filled by the laughing of the girls across the room. Rabastan worried that it was laughter over him, but he did not dare move his eyes from the captains. Finally, over the din, Thaddeus gave his order: “Of course, Lestrange. That’s the whole problem. Our enemies, nasty types-”
“Who are they?’ asked Evan. “Goblins?”
“Half-breeds!” shouted Sirius.
“Muggles?” came Regulus’ timid voice.
“Mudbloods,” snarled Torben Mulciber.
“Blood traitors!” Rabastan added.
“The French?” Darren suggested, immediately receiving a kick from Rabastan’s direction.
“-all those,” concluded Thad. “Well, not the French, but maybe - anyway, they’re no good, and they’ve stolen our flag and mean to destroy it. You need to find it, and bring it back here. Take any wizards who oppose you hostage, and kill the rest. Understood?”
The boys were all leaning forward, some half-standing already, and some fidgeting with excitement.
Win cleared his throat. “Mulciber, Avery, Rosier, you’re Team East. Blacks and Lestrange, West. When you find the flag, find the other team. Don’t come back until you’re all together, with it.”
“Yessir!” came the shouts, followed by the rustle of small boots against the rugs. The six boys ran to the door, fighting to squeeze through first.
“What are you doing?” came a distinctly non-boy voice. Narcissa Black had paused the girly games and regarded her cousins and Rabastan with extreme doubt.
“Something more fun than you, and that’s all you need to know,” Sirius shot back. “Come on.” He grabbed his brother and friend, one in each hand, and they moved into the hall.
Rabastan was about to drag his team westward when he felt a light punch from Evan Rosier. “How’ll we know what it looks like?”
The two groups stopped and stared at each other, and Rabastan combed through his thoughts to find a suitable idea for a flag. “It has our sign on it,” he said, stalling. “Which is… hold on!”
He threw open the door, waved to the captains, and rustled through a drawer to find a piece of chalk. Back, out the door, into the hallway he went, holding the chalk high. “It’s like this.”
It only took a nod to bring Sirius forward for demonstration, and soon Rabastan was drawing a large circle on the front of his friend’s tunic.
“Won’t you get in trouble for that?” piped up Regulus.
Sirius swatted a hand at his brother. “Robes can be washed, silly Reggie.”
Rabastan kept to his work, his tongue peeking out from between his lips as he tried to trace a triangle and line on the slippery cloth. “There!” he presented. “See, it’s like two triangles, for us two groups of three, and the circle is all of us. Plus,” he added, “I’ve seen it in a photograph.”
That seemed to win the others over, and they all lined up to be marked with the new chalky logo. Finally, Rabastan handed the chalk to Sirius to do his own, and then they were truly ready. Rabastan dropped the chalk in his pocket and put his hands on his hips. “All right, this is it. Let’s get our flag!”
The two teams turned their backs to each other and headed off in different directions. Sirius, Rabastan, and Regulus tore down the long hallway until they reached the stairs. “Stop!” Sirius shouted. “It’s one of them! A centaur!”
Rabastan and Regulus obeyed, throwing themselves against a wall, as Sirius held his arm out - with his imagined wand, of course - and warned the centaur not to attack. “I’m prepared to curse, but we’ll spare you if you show us where our flag is. We’ll spare all the centaurs! No? Bashkabavada!” He lowered his arm and turned back to his comrades, shaking his head. “He refused.”
“Good work. Let’s keep moving,” advised Rabastan. They bounded down stairs, and flew around corners, all the while slinking along and blasting stray enemies who had been hiding behind plants or blending in with tapestries.
They reached a cross-roads on the first floor, and Sirius and Rabastan began to follow their guts in different directions. Regulus stopped still. “Wait. Where do you think it is?”
Rabastan spun back, and Sirius titled his head, slowly turning back around. “I was following a goblin, to lead us there, but now he’s gotten away. Where were you going, Rabbit?”
“To ask the portraits,” he shrugged. “See if they’ve seen anything.”
“I have an idea,” Regulus offered. The two older boys stared, waiting. “Well,” he continued, in an even softer voice than usual, “Whereever they’re quartered is bound to be rather smelly, and Muggles wouldn’t want to be anywhere too thick with magic. We’d be able to smell them inside-plus, too much magic here. It’s everywhere. But outside-”
“Outside they’d be protected!” Sirius finished. “And closer to the mud. Where they belong.” He folded his arms in satisfaction with his conclusion.
“Actually, that makes loads of sense,” Rabastan agreed. “Maman’s gardens are blooming, and that would hide their odour outside, and there aren’t nearly as many protective enchantments. Well done, Reg. Outside it is!”
The nearest door wasn’t far, and soon the three tumbled into it, each scrambling to get outside first. Sirius pushed the others back and opened the door, his stick-wand waving in warning in the air. “Careful,” he warned, “they’re dangerous.”
He ran and they dashed after him, until coming to one of the gardens. Sirius dropped to a crouch and again, Rabastan and Regulus followed their leader. The three crawled behind a hedge, peeking through to look for goblins and Muggles and half-breeds and, most of all, their flag.
“Supafide!” came a shout, and before they could respond, Darren was staring them down, his wand pointed at Sirius’ face.
“Wait!” called Rabastan, standing up. “It’s just us!”
“It’s just them, Avery, cool it,” Torben Mulciber echoed - as if he’d known all along. Rabastan rolled his eyes.
Sirius stood too, and elbowed Darren. “Good thing for us it’s stup-afide. So, where’s the flag?”
“Still looking,” Mulciber answered.
Evan coughed. “Yeah, because it’s not real.” He tried to lean against the tall hedge, but instead of making himself seem cool and above everyone, the branches parted under his weight and let him fall right in.
“There’s no time for this,” Rabastan announced. “I think I know where it is. Follow me!” He stayed just long enough to make eye contact with Sirius, to be sure that he would indeed be followed, and tore off around the stone walls to the next garden.
It was round, and the plants were all low to the ground, aside from one tall tree in the center. As he came close to the walls of the house, he glanced into the room, and met the eye of one of the visitors. But there was no time for wondering about adults now. He circled the garden until both parties had joined him, all running in a circle on the flagstones that surrounded it. He ran and kept running, even after he heard all those behind him, and they went around until -
“Rabastan Algernon Lestrange!”
He skidded on the stones and found himself staring right into his mother’s robes. He did not dare look up at her face, but he could tell she was angry. On the ground, a few feet back, were the shoes of some unknown wizard.
“Yes, Maman?” the boy said, in the softest of voices.
“Why are you all covered in chalk?”
“I donno.”
He heard someone behind him move. “It was my fault, Mrs. Lestrange.” It was Sirius. Rabastan looked back at his friend, hardly believing the sacrifice.
His mother did not believe it either. “Rabastan, was this really Sirius’s idea? To draw this shape?”
His eyes darted across to the other boys, who had shuffled themselves into a group by the further hedges, and up to the strange man, who looked extremely disturbed at the interruption, and back to Sirius, sticking his nose out for him.
“Sirius drew it on my tunic,” he muttered, stuffing his own chalky hands into his pockets.
“That,” Maman hissed, only loud enough for Rabastan’s ears, “was not my question. Did Sirius decide to draw this shape?”
He opened his mouth to let Sirius take the blame but then met his mother’s eyes. “No,” he whimpered. “Bu-but it’s just chalk and it’ll come out.”
“It certainly will.” She tapped her wand six times, sending out an arc of light to each boy that wiped his robes clean as an elf-laundered cloak. Out of the corner of his eye, Rabastan noticed the adults resuming their business. “Playtime is over. Now, all of you, sit.”
They looked between themselves, but no one dared challenge the matron, and did as they were told, sitting exactly in the places where they stood.
“This is Mister Binks, the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation, and he asked to have a few words with you.”
Mr. Binks stepped forward. He was not very old, but not young either - older than Father, Rabastan thought. The Ministry wizard was half-bald, and his shiny skin bore little beads of sweat that he wiped off with a kerchief. “Thank you, Mrs. Lestrange. I - listen, lads, I’m sure you meant no harm, as you’re young, and I’m not here to lecture, but… well. Do you know anything about the War? It was before you were born, of course, but not long ago. I remember it - I - I’d just started at the Ministry, and it was a frightful time, I assure you. It was all this horrible wizard, Grindelwald. He decided he should - oh, you’ve heard his name? All right.”
A few of the boys had nodded, including Rabastan. Darren had crossed his arms and spoke out. “Everyone knows about Dumbledore and Grindelwald.”
“Well - oh - good, then. My father died, fighting his men. Grindelwald did awful things, and was an enemy to Britain - an enemy to the whole wizarding world, in fact. And his mark was that symbol you had on your robes.”
A murmur crept through the collection of boys, and Mrs. Lestrange tapped Mr. Binks on the shoulder. “Thank you, Charles. I’ll meet you back inside.”
Charles Binks wiped his head again and smiled his nervous smile at the boys before turning back toward the door inside.
“Do you understand, boys?”
Torben Mulciber snickered. “Grindelwald was horrible.”
“No.” Angelique waited for Torben’s smirk to fall, and then met the eyes of her son. “Gellert Grindelwald’s actions are in the past, and that is not my concern. What is, is that most people think him horrible, and some people did suffer in that war, and it is absolutely unacceptable to run around with his mark on your robes, especially in the company of visitors. Is that clear?”
The boys nodded in silence, and Angelique shooed them away. “Go and keep your games in the room. Rabbit, we’ll talk more later.”
“Oui, Maman,” he said, turning back to walk in the parade upstairs. It was a long and quiet walk, especially for Rabastan, who felt the weight of the whole affair on his shoulders, and Sirius did nothing to alleviate it. Rabastan didn’t blame him.
They finally filed back into the room, all with sullen faces. The girls stopped their chatter and the older boys even fell silent. Rabastan was the last to reenter, and slid his back into the door to close it.
Narcissa broke the silence. “What happened to you?”
A few of the boys looked between each other, sorting out a story with their eyes. Sirius spun, nodded toward Rabastan, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Rabbit.”
Rabbit opened his mouth to explain that, no, it wasn’t him, it was a mistake, it was old shapes, but the girls had already turned back to each other. He sighed and made his way back to hear what the older boys would have them do now.
Chapter Number/Title: May 1969: Shapes (27/100) [[ Previous | Next]]
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2494
Workshop?: Suggestions always welcome -- I'm not sure if I did this scene justice. A little unwieldy but it didn't work without it all. Hopefully the new small characters aren't too confusing!
May 24, 1969
Shapes
“But I want to build a fort!”
“Yes, but I want to explore!”
“No one wants to explore with you!”
“Sure they do! I’m the heir to the House of Black, don’t you know anything?”
“Well, la dee, Mister Black, I’m the heir to the House of Avery, and we’re better.”
“No one’s better.” Sirius crossed his arms and raised his nose higher than Rabbit thought it could go.
“Hup now!” he interrupted. “Watch what house you’re in.”
Thaddeus Yaxley stood up and pushed Darren and Sirius away from each other, and both fell, affronted, onto cushions. “As the eldest here, it’s my duty to put an end to this nonsense. Little Rabbit has a point. It’s his house - he’ll decide. Though,” he added, turning his stern face on Rabastan, “it better be something good.”
Rabastan swallowed, and looked over at the girls. They were sitting on the other side of the room, having a tea party. At least he wouldn’t have to please them, too. Really, he preferred a fort to exploring with a whole gang of boys in his own home, but Sirius would be furious. There had to be something else.
“Are you too old for pretend?”
Thaddeus scrunched his face and looked over at his friend Winthrop Wilkes. “Depends. Nothing for babies.”
“We aren’t babies!” shouted Sirius.
Win smirked. “Fine. I have a game. We’re an elite fighting unit, and there’s a big battle coming up. Now, Thad and I are the captains here, so we’ll have to stay at headquarters. And then we’ll send the rest of you out on missions to get information and keep our enemies from coming closer.”
Rabastan considered it. It sounded reasonable enough. “All right.”
He felt someone poke his arm. It was Regulus, looking up with his big eyes. “Can I be with you and Sirius?”
“Oh. Sure, I think so. As long as the captains give the go!” He looked over at Wilkes and Yaxley.
“Sure, whatever,” waved Thad.
Sirius might have hissed “Yessss,” and Rabastan would have bounced in his seat, but Regulus just smiled sheepishly and said, “Thanks.”
“So, what’s the mission?” Darren asked.
“You’ll get it when we tell you,” snapped Win, clearly enjoying his power while he had it. He punched Thaddeus Yaxley and the two began whispering.
Darren stuck his tongue out at Win’s turned back, and did not sit down. “Wilkes, where’s our flag?”
“What?” The freckle-faced older boy spun back and shot a fierce glare at Avery. “That’s Captain Wilkes to you, Avery. And we haven’t got a silly flag, we’re a special unit, not a whole nation.”
Rabastan’s arm shot up, still and straight, and he fixed his own gaze on the two self-appointed leaders. At Thad’s nod, the young boy stood, and smoothed down his tunic. “Captains Wilkes and Yaxley, Sirs, I think it might help, if it doesn’t interfere, to have a flag, to keep spirits up.”
Wilkes rolled his eyes and turned to Yaxley, and a brief silence fell over the boys. It was quickly filled by the laughing of the girls across the room. Rabastan worried that it was laughter over him, but he did not dare move his eyes from the captains. Finally, over the din, Thaddeus gave his order: “Of course, Lestrange. That’s the whole problem. Our enemies, nasty types-”
“Who are they?’ asked Evan. “Goblins?”
“Half-breeds!” shouted Sirius.
“Muggles?” came Regulus’ timid voice.
“Mudbloods,” snarled Torben Mulciber.
“Blood traitors!” Rabastan added.
“The French?” Darren suggested, immediately receiving a kick from Rabastan’s direction.
“-all those,” concluded Thad. “Well, not the French, but maybe - anyway, they’re no good, and they’ve stolen our flag and mean to destroy it. You need to find it, and bring it back here. Take any wizards who oppose you hostage, and kill the rest. Understood?”
The boys were all leaning forward, some half-standing already, and some fidgeting with excitement.
Win cleared his throat. “Mulciber, Avery, Rosier, you’re Team East. Blacks and Lestrange, West. When you find the flag, find the other team. Don’t come back until you’re all together, with it.”
“Yessir!” came the shouts, followed by the rustle of small boots against the rugs. The six boys ran to the door, fighting to squeeze through first.
“What are you doing?” came a distinctly non-boy voice. Narcissa Black had paused the girly games and regarded her cousins and Rabastan with extreme doubt.
“Something more fun than you, and that’s all you need to know,” Sirius shot back. “Come on.” He grabbed his brother and friend, one in each hand, and they moved into the hall.
Rabastan was about to drag his team westward when he felt a light punch from Evan Rosier. “How’ll we know what it looks like?”
The two groups stopped and stared at each other, and Rabastan combed through his thoughts to find a suitable idea for a flag. “It has our sign on it,” he said, stalling. “Which is… hold on!”
He threw open the door, waved to the captains, and rustled through a drawer to find a piece of chalk. Back, out the door, into the hallway he went, holding the chalk high. “It’s like this.”
It only took a nod to bring Sirius forward for demonstration, and soon Rabastan was drawing a large circle on the front of his friend’s tunic.
“Won’t you get in trouble for that?” piped up Regulus.
Sirius swatted a hand at his brother. “Robes can be washed, silly Reggie.”
Rabastan kept to his work, his tongue peeking out from between his lips as he tried to trace a triangle and line on the slippery cloth. “There!” he presented. “See, it’s like two triangles, for us two groups of three, and the circle is all of us. Plus,” he added, “I’ve seen it in a photograph.”
That seemed to win the others over, and they all lined up to be marked with the new chalky logo. Finally, Rabastan handed the chalk to Sirius to do his own, and then they were truly ready. Rabastan dropped the chalk in his pocket and put his hands on his hips. “All right, this is it. Let’s get our flag!”
The two teams turned their backs to each other and headed off in different directions. Sirius, Rabastan, and Regulus tore down the long hallway until they reached the stairs. “Stop!” Sirius shouted. “It’s one of them! A centaur!”
Rabastan and Regulus obeyed, throwing themselves against a wall, as Sirius held his arm out - with his imagined wand, of course - and warned the centaur not to attack. “I’m prepared to curse, but we’ll spare you if you show us where our flag is. We’ll spare all the centaurs! No? Bashkabavada!” He lowered his arm and turned back to his comrades, shaking his head. “He refused.”
“Good work. Let’s keep moving,” advised Rabastan. They bounded down stairs, and flew around corners, all the while slinking along and blasting stray enemies who had been hiding behind plants or blending in with tapestries.
They reached a cross-roads on the first floor, and Sirius and Rabastan began to follow their guts in different directions. Regulus stopped still. “Wait. Where do you think it is?”
Rabastan spun back, and Sirius titled his head, slowly turning back around. “I was following a goblin, to lead us there, but now he’s gotten away. Where were you going, Rabbit?”
“To ask the portraits,” he shrugged. “See if they’ve seen anything.”
“I have an idea,” Regulus offered. The two older boys stared, waiting. “Well,” he continued, in an even softer voice than usual, “Whereever they’re quartered is bound to be rather smelly, and Muggles wouldn’t want to be anywhere too thick with magic. We’d be able to smell them inside-plus, too much magic here. It’s everywhere. But outside-”
“Outside they’d be protected!” Sirius finished. “And closer to the mud. Where they belong.” He folded his arms in satisfaction with his conclusion.
“Actually, that makes loads of sense,” Rabastan agreed. “Maman’s gardens are blooming, and that would hide their odour outside, and there aren’t nearly as many protective enchantments. Well done, Reg. Outside it is!”
The nearest door wasn’t far, and soon the three tumbled into it, each scrambling to get outside first. Sirius pushed the others back and opened the door, his stick-wand waving in warning in the air. “Careful,” he warned, “they’re dangerous.”
He ran and they dashed after him, until coming to one of the gardens. Sirius dropped to a crouch and again, Rabastan and Regulus followed their leader. The three crawled behind a hedge, peeking through to look for goblins and Muggles and half-breeds and, most of all, their flag.
“Supafide!” came a shout, and before they could respond, Darren was staring them down, his wand pointed at Sirius’ face.
“Wait!” called Rabastan, standing up. “It’s just us!”
“It’s just them, Avery, cool it,” Torben Mulciber echoed - as if he’d known all along. Rabastan rolled his eyes.
Sirius stood too, and elbowed Darren. “Good thing for us it’s stup-afide. So, where’s the flag?”
“Still looking,” Mulciber answered.
Evan coughed. “Yeah, because it’s not real.” He tried to lean against the tall hedge, but instead of making himself seem cool and above everyone, the branches parted under his weight and let him fall right in.
“There’s no time for this,” Rabastan announced. “I think I know where it is. Follow me!” He stayed just long enough to make eye contact with Sirius, to be sure that he would indeed be followed, and tore off around the stone walls to the next garden.
It was round, and the plants were all low to the ground, aside from one tall tree in the center. As he came close to the walls of the house, he glanced into the room, and met the eye of one of the visitors. But there was no time for wondering about adults now. He circled the garden until both parties had joined him, all running in a circle on the flagstones that surrounded it. He ran and kept running, even after he heard all those behind him, and they went around until -
“Rabastan Algernon Lestrange!”
He skidded on the stones and found himself staring right into his mother’s robes. He did not dare look up at her face, but he could tell she was angry. On the ground, a few feet back, were the shoes of some unknown wizard.
“Yes, Maman?” the boy said, in the softest of voices.
“Why are you all covered in chalk?”
“I donno.”
He heard someone behind him move. “It was my fault, Mrs. Lestrange.” It was Sirius. Rabastan looked back at his friend, hardly believing the sacrifice.
His mother did not believe it either. “Rabastan, was this really Sirius’s idea? To draw this shape?”
His eyes darted across to the other boys, who had shuffled themselves into a group by the further hedges, and up to the strange man, who looked extremely disturbed at the interruption, and back to Sirius, sticking his nose out for him.
“Sirius drew it on my tunic,” he muttered, stuffing his own chalky hands into his pockets.
“That,” Maman hissed, only loud enough for Rabastan’s ears, “was not my question. Did Sirius decide to draw this shape?”
He opened his mouth to let Sirius take the blame but then met his mother’s eyes. “No,” he whimpered. “Bu-but it’s just chalk and it’ll come out.”
“It certainly will.” She tapped her wand six times, sending out an arc of light to each boy that wiped his robes clean as an elf-laundered cloak. Out of the corner of his eye, Rabastan noticed the adults resuming their business. “Playtime is over. Now, all of you, sit.”
They looked between themselves, but no one dared challenge the matron, and did as they were told, sitting exactly in the places where they stood.
“This is Mister Binks, the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation, and he asked to have a few words with you.”
Mr. Binks stepped forward. He was not very old, but not young either - older than Father, Rabastan thought. The Ministry wizard was half-bald, and his shiny skin bore little beads of sweat that he wiped off with a kerchief. “Thank you, Mrs. Lestrange. I - listen, lads, I’m sure you meant no harm, as you’re young, and I’m not here to lecture, but… well. Do you know anything about the War? It was before you were born, of course, but not long ago. I remember it - I - I’d just started at the Ministry, and it was a frightful time, I assure you. It was all this horrible wizard, Grindelwald. He decided he should - oh, you’ve heard his name? All right.”
A few of the boys had nodded, including Rabastan. Darren had crossed his arms and spoke out. “Everyone knows about Dumbledore and Grindelwald.”
“Well - oh - good, then. My father died, fighting his men. Grindelwald did awful things, and was an enemy to Britain - an enemy to the whole wizarding world, in fact. And his mark was that symbol you had on your robes.”
A murmur crept through the collection of boys, and Mrs. Lestrange tapped Mr. Binks on the shoulder. “Thank you, Charles. I’ll meet you back inside.”
Charles Binks wiped his head again and smiled his nervous smile at the boys before turning back toward the door inside.
“Do you understand, boys?”
Torben Mulciber snickered. “Grindelwald was horrible.”
“No.” Angelique waited for Torben’s smirk to fall, and then met the eyes of her son. “Gellert Grindelwald’s actions are in the past, and that is not my concern. What is, is that most people think him horrible, and some people did suffer in that war, and it is absolutely unacceptable to run around with his mark on your robes, especially in the company of visitors. Is that clear?”
The boys nodded in silence, and Angelique shooed them away. “Go and keep your games in the room. Rabbit, we’ll talk more later.”
“Oui, Maman,” he said, turning back to walk in the parade upstairs. It was a long and quiet walk, especially for Rabastan, who felt the weight of the whole affair on his shoulders, and Sirius did nothing to alleviate it. Rabastan didn’t blame him.
They finally filed back into the room, all with sullen faces. The girls stopped their chatter and the older boys even fell silent. Rabastan was the last to reenter, and slid his back into the door to close it.
Narcissa broke the silence. “What happened to you?”
A few of the boys looked between each other, sorting out a story with their eyes. Sirius spun, nodded toward Rabastan, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Rabbit.”
Rabbit opened his mouth to explain that, no, it wasn’t him, it was a mistake, it was old shapes, but the girls had already turned back to each other. He sighed and made his way back to hear what the older boys would have them do now.