|
Post by Seth Silver on Dec 19, 2006 21:42:51 GMT -5
'Himself was Italian, if ye must know,' Seth sniffed airily, wrinkling his nose. He was tired already, after all of this stress. There was too much thought in all of this. He had never planned on thinking so much when he woke up tha morning, but pressing matters of the day had urged Seth Silver into doing what he did best, and worst - thinking, hard. He didn't like to dwell on things, unless things had something to do with hating someone else, in which case he was more than inclined to dwell away. 'And he had a great cricket'lum (curriculum) of all sorts of things, like maths and hist'ries, and Aynglish, and French, and some Latin and all sorts of reading, and he knew more about Moogles than Moogles themselves, himself did.'
Being young, Seth had paid very little attention to his unfortunate tutor, an easily flustered man with a tan face and wavy black hair, always perfectly combed. The man was, true to his word, a wonderful tutor, and did his best to impart a few grains of knowledge on his pupil, though Seth was far from eager and attentative. He hadn't wanted to learn penmanship or maths, and his marks always reflected it. His writing was chicken scratch, especially joined-up writing, though he was rather talented with calligraphy when forced to be under threat of a leather strap.
'Why ye lookin' all thoughtful of a sudden, hm? Think of soomink new about all this?' he gestured around vaguely, shrugging. 'Ye always did more thinking than me about this and such.'
|
|
|
Post by Oione Mireault on Dec 20, 2006 16:28:08 GMT -5
If his private teacher had been a one hundred-years-old Inuit she wouldn't have cared less as Oione was too busy staring at Seth as though he had grown a second head or anthlers or any other thing that could be counted as highly peculiar. She blinked. Once. Twice. And then started circling the room with something akin to a non-material cloud of fury surrounding her. Truth to be told she was positively furious with herself, not only had she ignored a rather easy (and most of all safe) way of getting answers to at least one of her burning questions. Oione cursed, ruffling her hair in deepest frustration.
Since Seth didn't bear the slightest resemblance neither of Amerelia nor Augustus (well, it would have been rather suprising if he did) Oione decided that he must have inherited his looks his real father and there was one simple way to check it. What a fool she had been. Before any other coherent thought could have formed in her mind she was already at the door, showing every sign of leaving as fast as possible. "I...erm...guess I'm going to back to the Common Room" Oione said, her voice a little high-pitched, which was an undeniable proof that she was lying. It was an unsolved mystery to Oione, but she just couldn't bring herself to lie Seth in the eyes, especially about something that involved him. "So, er...Goodnight" And with that Oione was gone, breaking into a run in quite the opposite direction. The library.
|
|
|
Post by Seth Silver on Dec 20, 2006 17:06:50 GMT -5
Seth followed her out, his head swimming. He was unsure as of how to interpret the happenings of tonight. What he wanted to do was lie down in bed, mull over many varied and pointless things before falling into a relatively untroubled sleep. The prospects of this happening, however, were looking progressively less likely as he started off toward the common room. Oione was nowhere in sight, and Seth began to wonder if he really ought to go back to the common room at all. He didn't much feel like sitting around and trying to think, especially when he had no answers. It was pointless asking questions when no one knew or would tell him the answer.
So, he went to the library.
It was the only place that had never, could never, lie to Seth Silver. Books could hardly change was written inside them. This was one of (the many) reasons he had been strictly forbidden access to the library at Rookwood's estate in Limerick.
|
|
|
Post by Oione Mireault on Dec 21, 2006 16:45:06 GMT -5
From the look of it Oione was showing first symptoms of schizophrenia, glancing over her shoulder nervously now and again but only an oblivious by-stander could come to such conclusion.
Seth Silver might have the reputation of Hogwarts' Resident Idiot, but when it came to finding Oione, whether she was in the Shrieking Shack, Owlery, the astronomy Tower or visiting tundras of Northern Russia he never failed to know where she was. Oione suspected it had to be some primitive instinct that helped first Homo Sapiens pursue and hunt down their preys. It must have faded after humans stopped using it, but as a child, when Seth still was named "zat 'orrible, 'orrible boy" Oione perceived him a bit like a nature's cruel joke (that wasn't even funny). Now as she thought about it, maybe there was some truth in it.
Catching her breath after the frantic sprint, Oione finally reached the place of her destination. Oione didn't spend much time in the library due to the fact that Madam Pince did not miss any occasion to express her outrage with the girl's deliberate disregard towards the condition of ancient volumines. Truth to be told she couldn't really see what the big deal was, surely a little drawing here or there didn't hurt them...and what else was she supposed to do during History of Magic?! It was either this or dying of boredom.
Besides, the place was usually loaded with studious Ravenclaws and the girl was never overly fond of them, especially one that awoke a sudden love for homicide. Quietly as a snake the girl went in, bent slightly and praying for a night of stone-hard sleep for the librarian. What brought her here was a relatively old book, corrected and redone over the years, she could remember she had one at home and was certain that the school simply had to have one too. Crawling between the enormous shelves and scanning the titles for something familiar. It was the history of wizard kind that had all pure-blooded wizards listed and throughly described and (what interested Oione the most) it had photographs. Stubbornly she dragged her knees to another section until she reached the one that could held the answers to her questions. Her fingertips touched the book's spine and she held her breath while taking the heavy volume 118 out. And then her heart jumped to her throat as the door creaked, curling up on the floor and trying to be as still as possible. It had to be Pince or her nightly patrol, but as she dared to open one eye and then another she realised it wasn't Madam Pince at all. Tall, lean and definitely not gifted with a hourglass figure but having all too familiar thick curles instead, this couldn't have been her. 'Damn' Oione hissed to herself.
|
|
|
Post by Seth Silver on Dec 21, 2006 16:56:41 GMT -5
Seth Silver was not known around school for his stealth. In fact, he very much doubted anyone would ever have guessed he could be silent when he truly wanted to be. Tonight, silent was key. If Madam Pince was to wake and find him...Seth didn't even want to think of the repurcussions. Snape would rear his greasy little head, and before he knew it Seth would be on the train home, suspended, and fully dreading what he would find upon arrival in Limerick.
No, he needed his stealth tonight, and he would be damned if he made a single sound. The door of the library, fortunately, was far easier to open than the door to the boy's dormitory in the Slytherin common room, which made the most glorious squeaking when moved. He crept past the doorway, heading immediately for a section near the back. Most would never have gussed, but Seth Silver was rather familiar with the library. He came sometimes, when he needed to get away from Slytherin, the constant demand of homework, or any other problems which plagued his life on a regular basis.
He checked the shelves one-by-one, cursing Madam Pince for her organisational methods. Forget alphabetical order. Oh, no - Pince had to put everything in order by publication date. How was he to know when the book had been published? Which month? Which day? IT had to have been somewhat recent, or Richard Wilkes would not be in it. Quidditch Through the Ages, somewhere around the tenth edition, or something. And then, at the very end of a series on the Tutshill Tornadoes, he found it - Broomstick Makers of the Twenty-First Century. If Wilkes wasn't in there.....
|
|
|
Post by Oione Mireault on Dec 21, 2006 17:55:20 GMT -5
This had to be some sort of punishment, Oione decided, probably one for her past and future sins as she couln't really see the end of it.
Hugging latest discover to her chest as though her further life depended on it the girl slowly began to retreat as Seth got closer, apparetnly also searching for something. If not so eager to get out of the room as soon as possible Oione would probably open a bottle of the best french champagne she could find to celebrate Seth's comeback to the world of thinking people, she knew that she had stirred the part of him that was curious of it all, of the secret the Wilkes tried to hide and succeded for so long, what it all had to do with him and the Rookwoods. Oione moved backwards a little, practically in a prone position, cursing every inch of the floor in her mind.
|
|
|
Post by Seth Silver on Dec 21, 2006 18:12:09 GMT -5
Seth slammed his book onto a table, oblivious to everything but his newfound prize. He took a moment to savour the pride at finally getting answers by himself. Oione wasn't here now to tell him where to look. Oh, no - he had discovered this little jewel on his own. All on his own. He felt extremely satisfied with himself. Who ever said Seth Silver was an idiot?
'Wilkes, Wilkes....where is th'fookin' bastardt?'
No one was there to remind him to keep his voice down. Seth flipped through the pages with the urgency of a brain surgeon midway through operation. He scanned the pages quickly. Wilkes, Richard Wilkes. France. Broomsticks. A wife, two sons.
'Genius.'
There it was, though not at all what Seth had expected. The name was absent. There was no Richard Wilkes listed, but Seth did not need a name to know he had found just who he was looking for. There was no mistaking the curly hair and brown eyes, very much like his older brother's. It made perfect sense, of course, that a man who was apparently an ex-Death Eater would have changed his name to go into hiding. Etienne Grubennierre, husband of Analise Chopard-Grubennierre and father of two boys, Robert and Jean-Marcel. The man grinned handsomely from his photograph, waving a catalogue of flashy broomsticks. Itwas not the aloof face Seth remembered, the one that watched Amerelia Rookwood out of the corner of its eyes. This face was handsome and young, tan.
Seth released the breath he had not know he was holding and snapped the book shut. He had no plans of returning it, not tonight. This needed research. This needed...Oione. Oione would know exactly what to do with this. He stood, glancing around, and caught a flash of blonde hair whipping around the corner of a section on genealogy. Oione? But she said she was going back to -
'Yeer sooch a liar.'
|
|
|
Post by Oione Mireault on Dec 22, 2006 18:42:25 GMT -5
Why did Seth Silver had to choose this very moment out of all the other existing moments to suddenly become a bookworm? One would think that he would just take the bloody book and go, but no, he just had to linger in the library causing the girl all kinds of despair.
Upon hearing 'Wilkes' however, Oione's ears immediately perked up and she changed her direction to one closer to the tables, still hiding behind the shelf but listening on in agonizing curiousity. What did Seth find that she didn't? That was another torture in itself.
He slammed the book shut and Oione clumsily withdrew, her hair wiping the floor. It had always been a very, very treacherous thing to her, betraying the girl's presence on multiple occasions with it unusual fairness. That was why she hated it so much, her mother would dwell endlessly on just how pretty it was but Oione Mireault knew better. She made mental note to either learn a Disillusionment Charm or simply dye her stupid hair black. Fine Oione thought vehemently, getting up from the floor, looking as ruffled as if she had spent a week lying there. Fine. Have it your way. She gave up on trying to lead him astray, she might be able to keep secrets from many people but Seth Silver was so incurably obstinate it was impossible to do so and stay mentally stable afterwards.
"Can't really help it"she said with a sort of grim amusement. "Was born with it" Well, her father never quite managed to tell after all, so the girl promptly blamed it on genes. Carrying her leather-clad volume she walked up to the table. Since neither of them planned on sleeping that night they might as well take the matters into their own hands and solve the mystery of the Wilkes' family completely. "Have you found anything interesting?"
|
|
|
Post by Seth Silver on Dec 22, 2006 19:09:28 GMT -5
Seth eyed his friend suspiciously. Ought he to tell Oione his discovery? She had lied to him, after all, and surely someone who lied did not deserve to hear about his ingenius findings. But then...Oione was the only one Seth could trust to know this, and really the only one who would know what to do with the information. He flipped open the book again, finding the page almost instantly, and pointed to the man much as a small child might point to his favourite drawing in a story book.
'Wilkes,' he announced proudly.
Wilkes waved from his page, the catalogue of his broomsticks gleaming and new. Seth's own broomstick could be seen next to a model made for "the travelling mother-to-be". Yes, this man was definitely Tom Wilkes's elusive younger brother. Seth beamed and pointed out the name change "Et-yayne Groob'n'yeer", along with the wife and sons. ("Just like Snape said!") He hardly bothered to keep his voice down. After all, no one would be in the library this late at night, and if they were, it shouldn't be horribly difficult to give them the slip. Tonight he felt invincible.
|
|
|
Post by Oione Mireault on Dec 22, 2006 19:34:02 GMT -5
Oione dropped her own book on the table and rolled her eyes irritably. Of course, it was Wilkes he had been searching for, after all the man whose existence was supposed to be erased was the one occupying their thoughts for the past hours if not days. Surely Seth didn't expect her to believe that he was searching for information on Nifflers.
And then...Then Oione looked down at the picture and required the chair for support as she felt as though somebody smacked her with a cauldron, a quite massive one at that. She did not need any names to know exactly who the man had to be, not only had he got the fair and eyes similar to those of his older brother but Oione was under the impression that it was an older, not sulky and healthier-looking version of Seth grinning at her from the photograph. 'Oh shit' was the only eloquent answer the gob-smacked girl managed to form. She sat down. So they had reached what they (or at least Oione)wanted. What now? "Oh, pronounce it properly for heaven's sake" she snapped, temporarily returning to her senses.
Grubennierre. Fogged as it might be, Oione remembered that she heard that name several times, uttered by no one else but her own parents. No wonder they maintained that Richard Wilkes died after being disowned. Technically he did. She couldn't believe that she hadn't thought of this before, it was pretty damn obvious that Wilkes would change his name when he left the Death Eaters, he had to be a fool not to do so. "Doesn't he remind you of anyone?" Oione asked shyly (which was rather uncommon to her), as if to check if Seth's thoughts were heading the same way.
|
|
|
Post by Seth Silver on Dec 22, 2006 19:53:56 GMT -5
'Remind me of anyone?' Seth squinted at the photograph, tracing the brown curls with his fingers in an almost reminiscient way. He smiled, a tiny gurgle of laughter slipping out. The photograph waved back and beamed at him. 'Tom, of course.' But that wasn't it. Seth knew that wasn't it. Oione was a lot more intelligent than that. She knew Wilkes looked like his older brother too and....
He thought of something. He thought of waking up in the morning, casually glancing at himself in the mirror as he sidestepped the other boys on their way to the toilet. He thought of running his fingers through blackish curls (the only way Seth's hair was ever brushed), and...nothing. He thought of absolutely nothing. It was a time when Seth's absent-minded idiocy bordered, truly bordered, ready to peak the edge, on the criminal. He thought of absolutely nothing.
'Why - do he remind ye of soomink?' He glanced sideways at Oione, head tilted to the side, palms spread widely over the wood table, over the paragraph on Etienne Grubennierre's humble, ultimately untraceable, upbringing in the South of France.
|
|
|
Post by Oione Mireault on Dec 22, 2006 20:29:00 GMT -5
Holding her breath as if to stop her soul from crawling out of her very skin and punching Seth in the face for being a true, not the tiniest bit observative idiot for once in his life (though, of course he acted like one as often as possible, but now reached the top of supreme idiocy). Instead she opened the book she found and browsed the index for any traces of Richard Wilkes and having found it, turned to the given page.
There it was, a similar photo to the one in Seth's Quidditch album but must have been taken earlier as Richard Wilkes was described as 'late brother of Thomas Wilkes', not discouraged by this fact Oione searched (a bit feverishly as her hands weren't quite finished with the excited trembling yet) for Grubennierre. Ha! And here it was. Oione Mireault had never felt waves of triumph washing over her like that, she indeed felt that they had won, completely and undeniably. Here, in this quiet chamber with a small clue from Severus Snape they had discovered and solved a secret kept from them for about sixteen years.
The girl didn't know whether she was supposed to laugh at his naive question or dissolve into hysterical tears upon that obvious show of stupidity. Instead she just watched him closely and carefully, for the first time in what seemed like ages. Large brown eyes, dark curls that were usually tangle due to the fact that Seth most have sworn to hate all combs with a passion and this unique complexion, that even though brighter than Richard's still made him stand out. No wonder Amerelia hated her son so much, he was a walking, painful reminder of what she had done. Not answering his question Oione jumped off her stool and walking past Madam Pince's desk, where the woman used to sit and scowl at students, she took a large wall mirror off and carrying it on somewhat wobbly feet since it was rather heavy, put it before Seth. "Here" she panted under her burden, with determination to spell some things out for him, even if it involved back-breaking work. "Let me help you"
|
|
|
Post by Seth Silver on Dec 22, 2006 21:04:15 GMT -5
Seth Silver was fond of mirrors. More than a tiny bit vain, he enjoyed looking at himself in the mirror. His face was not horrible looking, like Marzel's, and he felt a bit proud of his face. Forget the mater and whoever his father was. His face was all his own doing, and nothing could ever take that from him. And so it was eagerly that Seth snatched the mirror from Oione's hands. Perhaps she had some trick to show him? He chanced a glance at himself, swiping a few stray hairs from his face and wrinkling his nose just as the mater always did when she looked at herself. Puckered lips and wrinkled nose - oh, yes, he rather liked himself now.
'I look normal,' said Seth, confused. He took a second look, and something in the deep, unused corners of his brain clicked. He glanced again at the photograph of Richard Wilkes, and then Etienne Grubennierre. The same hair, the same eyes, the same nose. His cheekbones were Amerelia's, and his chin, but everything else...right down to what his complexion would have been had he lived on a French seashore instead of grey Limerick. 'Oione,' Seth began, his eyes widening. 'Oione, I look like that - like him. I never thought -'
Seth dropped the mirror and returned once again to the book. Richard Wilkes died....five years after Seth was born. Five? Where had he been, then? And then he remembered the visit. It had been in the winter, and Wilkes died in summer. The summer after he came to Augustus's manor in Limerick. And after that...after that he'd gone to France. He was arranging to be married, no doubt, and most likely concieved the first boy, Robert or whatever it was, soon after, if not by then. And that would have to mean...
Seth turned away. He didn't want to look at the photos anymore.
'Shite.'
|
|
|
Post by Oione Mireault on Dec 22, 2006 21:37:36 GMT -5
Oione Mireault smacked her forehead for the second time that night (or should we say early morning). Great, now she had brought out a Narcissus in him, definitely not what she had been aiming for.
Although, to tell the purest truth some part of her (that was still rather muffled by the bigger part that was thoroughly exasparated with him) found Seth very handsome. His face was hard to mistake for anyone else's and belonged to one of those things you couldn't forget after seeing once. However, because of the boy's thorny personality and beyond bad temper his looks weren't the first thing people noticed about him and it took Oione herself a fair amount of time to realise that simple fact.
'I look normal,' Oione bowed her head in resignation and sighed deeply, but said nothing, waiting silently for some miracle to happen. A lightning hitting Seth's thick skull would be rather nice, she decided. And it happened, maybe not as spectacular as the one with the lightning but something in cobbleweb covered insides of his brain clicked.
It was as if the walls were pulled in from all the breath-holding Oione did. The mirror was forgotten and she leaped to stand before Seth, that was why she hesitated for so long with telling him. "I'm so sorry" it wasn't an every-day thing, an earnest apology from Oione Mireault . But she had no idea what his reaction might be. Maybe she should have left it be and keep it to herself, causing Seth trouble because of her discovery was the last thing she wanted. Torn with anxiety Oione conluded that he, at least, deserved an explanation. "I started suspecting it the minute you told me about him in the hospital wing and then my mum told me he died as a traitor and that we're not to speak of him...and Snape! It all made perfect sense! I just needed to make sure!"
|
|
|
Post by Seth Silver on Dec 22, 2006 21:45:51 GMT -5
It was extremely rare that Seth Silver laughed, in earnest, about something that was not violent, cruel, annoying, or dirty. It escaped him in tiny, cautious rifts at first, but became a full-blown guffaw that lasted a few moments before he swallowed it down, sniggering, and pointed at Etienne Grubennierre's grinning face. A handsome face, he noted, and one that resembled his own far too well for comfort's sake. Tapping the photo, he snorted, 'We're going to France, Oione.'
It was perhaps as serious as Seth was going to be about anything even remotely concerning Etienne Grubennierre. He fully intended on going to France now, and feck the Knights. He would be damned if he let some stupid secret organisation get in the way of something so perfect.
'We're going to France, and I'm going to stand on his doorstep until he comes out, and we'll tell him and his wife and his feckin' sons...they'll only have to see me and...I'm so shootpidt! I'm an eejit! Why am I sooch an feckin' eejit? Why, Oione?'
|
|