And the wind blows the leaves off the trees
another sign of spring bringing winter to its knees
and they say, the grass is greener on the other side
well I want to know all about the darkness that lights your eyes
cause it’s....
It’s breaking me down, it’s breaking me down,
it’s breaking me down, down, down, down, down....
And the change is so constant over me
take me and show me who I need to be
The asphalt a little bit darker
and it helps you to remember when
the rain fell, in sweet November
be careful who you fall in love with,
cause someone somewhere won’t approve…
-Tristan Prettyman
No one would have noticed the change in Cedrella Black over the next week. Certainly, in all concrete ways, there was none. To other’s eyes she appeared just as she always did: the middle Black sister, quiet, prideful, and beautifully impassive. No, the change was all mental, and even then it was small.
Yet still, it was there.
Cedrella could feel it: the small corner of her brain she allowed for the owls, for her errant or condemning thoughts, dusty from disuse, was stirring.
The nighttime encounter in the Owlery became more and more dreamlike in her memory, and as the little details like that strange ache in her chest slipped away, she found herself thinking about them more and more. She wondered about Septimus Weasley, hoping he was all right, and anticipating his return to school so she could see for herself. She wondered if he would remember her, or if he had been so delirious that the whole thing would seem to him, too, like a dream. Absurdly, she hoped not. She trusted his promise not to spread rumors, though she knew it was foolish to trust. He had been very coherent, recognizing her before she recognized him. “Thanks, Cedrella,” he had said. Would he keep tabs on her from now on? And why did she care?
It was at that point in her musings that Cedrella tried to simply switch her thoughts off”it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter. Over and over, she would decide to just get on with life.
But it was not so simple.
Five days after the incident, Cedrella went back to the Owlery. The school was buzzing about the Halloween feast and the Hogsmeade visit the next day, and Charis and her friends were even gigglier than usual at breakfast. Cedrella only had two classes, and spent most of the day in the courtyard enjoying the last of the year’s sunlight with a couple of thick books, wrapped in the cloak she had lent Septimus. It still smelled faintly like the night air, and also straw and something indefinable that she knew must be him.
Perhaps it was this that made her so particularly distracted that day, but she kept pausing in her reading, trying to remember, thinking, wondering…
At last, unable to shake the image of his tearful face from her mind’s eye, she stood up, tucked her books into her bag, and marched back into the castle. It was almost dinner, after which she had her prefect patrol. Nobody would be up in the Owlery right now. She could go, just for a few minutes. Perhaps seeing the familiar tower and smelling its comforting smells in the daylight without him there would make her stop, could cure her of going over every detail of their meeting again and again.
The castle was quiet”most of the school had gathered in the Great Hall for dinner already. Cedrella slipped past the double doors, and headed up the staircase.
The Owlery was empty, as she had expected, except for her feathered friends. They called greetings to her, and she took a deep breath, gazing around, taking in the sights and smells. She glanced at the spot under the window where she and Septimus had sat. Was it her imagination, or was the straw there still a little mused up?
As she contemplated this, an owl gave a loud call and she drew a sharp intake of breath as Mathias landed on her arm. He was holding a piece of parchment in his beak.
Hesitantly, Cedrella took it, and unfolded it carefully. Her heart was pounding again. In an untidy script, she read:
October 29, 1933
Dear Cedrella,
I wanted to say thank you again for keeping me company the other night. It was a very kind and decent thing to do. I knew it might look odd if Mathias brought this to you at regular post time, so I told him to give it to you when you returned to the Owelry alone. I knew you would, sooner or later.
I also want to apologize for being so incoherent. I wasn’t myself, as you probably noticed. I hope you did not draw any bad conclusions about me. I am usually rather cheerful company, and I hope you’ll give me another chance.
The funeral was this morning, Thursday.
(Here she could see that his hand had started to shake.)
It went as well as could be expected. My father died very suddenly, so we are all shocked. I will be back at Hogwarts in time for the Halloween feast on Saturday night. See you then?
Thanks again,
Septimus
Cedrella stared at the letter for a long time, tracing the words with her fingertip. She did not know what to think. He had written to her, on the same day as his father’s funeral. He was obviously thinking of that night, perhaps as much as she was. His tone was so casual, as though they were acquaintances, almost friends. Give him another chance? What could he mean? They could never be seen together. They could never be friends. He knew that, didn’t he?
“What does he think of me, Mathias?” she asked, looking at the owl. “What does he want?”
The owl’s answering hoot told her clearly that he thought she was missing the point.
“All right, then. What should I do?”
He blinked and fluttered off her wrist, landing on her bag, and plucked a quill out of the outside pocket.
“Write him back?” Cedrella laughed humorlessly. “Oh Mathias, what would I say? I can’t keep this up. It has got to stop.”
The owl hooted reproachfully.
“No?”
No, his eyes said plainly.
“What do you propose, then?”
The owl brandished the quill.
“You’re not going to let me alone, are you? Did he tell you to make me write him back?”
Mathias blinked. No.
“Does he want me to?”
Yes.
Cedrella sighed. She had already been up here too long. “I’ll be back tonight,” she promised. “I’ll think about it.”
Mathias seemed satisfied. He pecked her wrist gently and flew off to a perch on the wall. Cedrella gave the owls a parting wave and hurried down to dinner, pressing Septimus’ letter safely into her pocket as she walked.
October 30, 1933
Septimus,
Thank you for the note. I am glad to hear you are doing all right. Mathias convinced me to write you back; he is really the most intelligent bird I’ve ever met. I drew no conclusions about you, of course, except that you must love your family very much.
Best,
C
***
Cedrella spent Halloween in the library, wondering what Septimus Weasley had thought of her brief note, which she had sent with Mathias the night before. Watching the owl fly into the night, her letter clasped in his beak, had felt rather like she had just jumped from a great height. What have I done? she would wonder, falling back into her circular musings.
It was, predictably, Charis who brought her back to reality. He sister arrived in the library still wearing her cloak, her cheeks flushed from the cold and her eyes shining.
“Have you been in here all day?” she hissed, sliding into the chair across from Cedrella.
“Yes. How was Hogsmeade?”
“Lovely, but Cedrella, why didn’t you go? You spend all of yesterday out in the courtyard, when you could be in here studying, and all of today in here, when you could be in the village! Silly.”
Cedrella smiled. “I suppose so, yes. I can be silly sometimes.”
“Never thought I would hear you admit that. I thought I was the silly one.”
“Well, what did you do today in the village? You may win the contest, yet.”
Charis’ smile was not innocent. “All right, fair enough. I’ll tell you on the way down.”
“Down?”
“Are you coming to the feast or not? It’s about to start. Put those books away, now.”
Cedrella packed up her books, wondering if she should say anything about Septimus. She wouldn’t tell the whole story, of course, but if Charis could tell she was acting odd…
“So, what did you do today?” she asked.
“Well mostly, I just shopped with Mattie and the other girls.”
“But…?”
“But, we stopped at the Three Broomsticks and Lucifer Malfoy and some of the other boys sat down with us. Don’t look at me like that, Cedrella, it was a big group, it’s fine.”
“I’m just not particularly fond of Lucifer, that’s all.”
“Well, I think he’s positively gorgeous. Anyway, he and I got to talking, and then Mattie, Lucifer, Joseph Warrington and I all went for a walk up past Dervish and Bangs. We were talking about Quidditch, and Lucifer said his father is taking him and his brother Abraxas to France for the World Cup next summer, and he invited me to go along. I told him I would have to ask Father though,” she added quickly, catching sight of Cedrella’s expression.
Cedrella was cursing herself inwardly. This was just the sort of thing she was afraid of Charis getting mixed up in. She was too friendly. People weren’t supposed to like her as much as they did. She was too accessible, too easy to sway. And yet how could Cedrella reprimand her sister for talking to a respectable, albeit obnoxious, pureblood boy with two other people present when she, Cedrella, had been obsessing for a week about a midnight encounter with a blood traitor? Cedrella hated hypocrisy, and she knew she was dangerously close to it.
“Don’t look so grim, Cedrella. Say something!” Charis looked worried.
Cedrella sighed. “Well, you’ll have to be careful how you ask Father.”
Charis’ face broke into a relieved smile. “I will. Actually I was hoping… do you think you could help me with that? You’re much better at dealing with him than I am.” Her hand twitched, and Cedrella reached down to press a reassuring hand onto Charis’ scarred wrist.
“Of course. We’ll do it over Christmas. You know, you might try and find out if Lucifer is betrothed to anyone. If not, his father could have something to do with this. It would be easy then. The Malfoys are a very old family.”
Charis smiled happily. “I know. And if he is betrothed?”
“Then father will know, or he will find out. “
Charis nodded, her face tightening. “Right. I’ll look into that.”
“Good,” Cedrella said.
“You know,” Charis said after a moment, “I thought you might be terribly angry with me.”
“Well…” Cedrella chose her words carefully. “You didn’t do anything wrong, technically. You do need to try harder to be more proper and less friendly. But I can’t come down too hard on you. What if someday I needed you to forgive me for something, then where would I be?”
“You, Cedrella?” The laughter was back in Charis’ eyes as they reached the doors to the Great Hall. “What are you planning to do, get an E on an exam?” She giggled. “Don’t worry, I’ll always be here to give you headaches.”
Cedrella smiled in spite of herself at her sister’s bubbly mood. “Reassuring.”
As she settled herself onto a bench at the Slytherin table near a few other sixth years, Cedrella looked around at the lavish Halloween decorations, feeling relieved. This was how things were supposed to be. Charis, having problems, needed Cedrella to be her mother, sister, and best friend all at once. That was what Cedrella had always been best at, the thing that made her feel not only good about being a proper Black but good about herself. Charis needed her. That was normal. And that was all that was important.
The feast was delicious, and Cedrella enjoyed the dance put on by the ghosts and a display of flying bats that the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Professor Scamander, directed to great applause. She ate two slices of her favorite fruit crumble, smirking across the table at Charis who was giving her a look that said clearly two helpings of dessert? You? “I told you, you might need to forgive me for something,” she called. She felt like herself again.
That is, until Professor Dippet dismissed them, and as she joined the crowds streaming out of the Hall she glimpsed an unmistakable head of short red hair a little ways ahead of her, its owner’s gait notably without the typical Gryffindor bounce. Septimus, she thought, and it all came rushing back to her.
That night she lay in bed and imagined his response to her letter in a thousand different ways.
**
November 1, 1933
Dear Cedrella,
I’m back at Hogwarts now, and I am feeling better. No more hypothermic shock, I promise. When I got home my mum thought I still looked clammy and sick so she had my aunt who works as a healer examine me, and then I got quite a bit of grief from my brothers for trying to freeze myself. The point is, I have learned my lesson and I am feeling better. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell them anything about you.
You were right, I did hope you would write me back, but I never told Mathias that. I guess he knows me well. The little feathery git seems very wiling to share my feelings with you, though. The paper he tried to give you the other night was the letter from my mum, telling me about Dad’s accident. Please take no offense, but I didn’t really feel like sharing that.
Do I need to get Mathias to convince you to write me back again?
Please?
Septimus
November 5, 1933
Septimus,
As a matter of fact, you do. I find it much harder to say no to a persistent owl than strange Gryffindor boys.
As for the letter, don’t worry about that. That is private, I would not have wanted to read it. Owls can be impertinent sometimes.
I am glad to hear you are feeling better. Your brothers sound like wise boys.
Best,
C
November 7, 1933
Dear Cedrella,
I’ll keep that in mind. Anything I ever want from you, I’ll just get Mathias to ask for it.
No, I’m joking. You’ve already done more than enough for me.
I would like to ask you something, though don’t feel pressure to answer it. How is it that you can understand him? I know owls are highly intelligent birds, but I have never seen someone communicate with them the way you do, or describe them so… humanly, for want of a better word. I have heard of Parselmouths, wizards who can speak to snakes, but you were using English, at least most of the time. I can’t help but be curious, so do forgive my own impertinence. I am taking an N.E.W.T. in Care of Magical Creatures, if it makes any difference at all.
Yes, my brothers are wise” and wise asses, come to think of it. It took me a while to work out your comment, but thank you for what (I think) seems to be genuine concern for my safety. My brothers do, despite all their teasing, care for me very much. I’m sure you know how it is; you have two sisters, right?
Curiously,
Septimus
Please stop smiling at me and being so ridiculous in the halls.
Thank you,
C
November 12, 1933
Dear Cedrella,
I stand corrected. I asked my brother Rudy if he thought smiling at Slytherins would be considered impolite and all he said was “don’t get hexed, little bro.” I’m eager to apologize before that happens, or worse, I hurt your feelings.
Sorry,
Septimus
P.S. I asked Professor Scamander if it is possible for wizards to communicate with other animals besides for snakes and he said “yes, good question, Weasley. Here’s a big list of long books to read and learn about it.” Bloody N.E.W.T level class. Then all of the books were checked out of the library already. It would be an awful lot easier if you could just tell me.
P.P.S. I hope you can tell I’m being sarcastic.
November 14, 1933
Septimus,
Yes, I can recognize sarcasm, thank you.
I can tell you exactly where the library books on wizard-animal communication are. Six of them are currently in my trunk, another three are in my book bag, and I am using the tenth as a hard surface to write this letter on. I am planning to keep them a rather long time, but if in my research I discover anything particularly enlightening perhaps I will pass it on to you.
Your brother doesn’t know anything about Slytherins. It’s not manners, or feelings, that I am worried about. You have not offended me; I cannot speak for my fellow classmates.
Best,
C
November 16, 1933
Dear Cedrella,
Yes, I can see that you can recognize sarcasm quite well, not to mention put it to use.
Since you are so determined to be mysterious, I wrote my to brother Demetrius and his wife Vivery to ask them about wizard-animal communication. (I told them it was for a class research project, don’t worry). Vivery is a sort of magical naturalist, and Demetrius is an anthropologist. He’s writing a book about the magical practices of indigenous tribes around the world, and she’s studying the wildlife wherever they go and getting herself in all sorts of dangerous situations in the process. (She actually went hunting for a lethifold once). They’ve been traveling for about two years, and they are in Africa right now. I figured if anyone would know, they would, for they’ve seen all kinds of mad stuff and weird magic in their travels. Anyway, Vivery wrote me back yesterday, and she had some pretty interesting things to say. She also said that Demetrius is on a hunting trip with some locals right now, but when he gets back she expects he’ll write and tell me a story about an Egyptian family he met who could talk to cats.
It’s pretty fascinating, isn’t it?
Sincerely,
Septimus
P.S. I’m glad I didn’t hurt your feelings.
November 17, 1933
Septimus,
Your brother and sister-in-law’s work sounds absolutely fascinating. How did they come to be a naturalist and anthropologist? I hope I can read your brother’s book when it is published. Where else have they traveled?
So, what did they tell you? Are you an expert on speaking to animals now? Somehow I doubt it”I’m sure I could still set all the owls in the Owlery on you if I wanted to, possibly excluding Mathias.
Best,
C
November 18, 1933
Dear Cedrella,
It was actually kind of an accident how Demetrius became an anthropologist. He took N.E.W.T.’s in Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, and Magical Creatures (the usual I suppose) and then he and his twin, my brother Julius, went on a world tour after they graduated from Hogwarts. While they were in Australia, they got separated hiking, and some Aborigines took him in for the night. He ended up staying with them for a few weeks, and he learned all this weird wandless magic and was generally really fascinated by them. So when they got back to England, Demetrius decided to write a book about it, and then he just decided to keep traveling and writing about the people he meets. He called himself a writer for a while, but he really wasn’t. So now he’s an anthropologist. It’s a Muggle term that means someone who studies mankind. He has been all over Eastern Europe, and parts of Asia, and now he’s tackling Africa. It’s a big job. There hasn’t been a lot of research done about African magic.
Anyway, in answer to your question, no, I cannot speak to animals now. Apparently it isn’t something you can learn. In answer to your other question, will you give me those books if I tell you what Vivery said?
As for the owls… I am going to try very hard not to get on your bad side.
Do we have a deal?
Septimus
P.S. I know I don’t need to point out to you that that last bit was sarcastic.
November 21, 1933
Dear Septimus,
Who is being mysterious now?
I, however, give up. The lure of knowledge trumps caution, as usual. No, I cannot give you those books, because I need them for my research project. I have wondered for many years why I am so drawn to owls and why I can communicate with them, and since I only have two years left with the Hogwarts library at my disposal I finally decided to do something about it. I have learned a few things, but on the whole there is frustratingly little printed about the topic. So I would really appreciate it, actually, if you could tell me what your sister-in-law explained to you.
And I would like to read your brother’s books. Are there copies in the Hogwarts Library?
As for the Postscript: no, you certainly did not.
Best,
Cedrella
November 22, 1933
Dear Cedrella,
All right, I confess: I was being mysterious on purpose. I have to get things out of you somehow! You’re a person of few words. Anyway, yes, I am enclosing a copy of Viv’s letter. I still haven’t gotten a reply from Demetrius, but I promise that when I do, I will forward that one to you as well. I am actually quite glad to help you with your research project, now that you’ve condescended to tell me about it. (Note: sarcasm). I didn’t think there was anything I could do in return for your help last month.
Contrary to what you said, I don’t think you’ve given up being enigmatic at all. “The lure of knowledge trumps caution, as usual”? Now what, may I ask, are the conclusions I can draw from that statement? You get more mysterious every day, Cedrella Black. Don’t try to deny it.
I have no idea if Demetrius’ books have made it into the Hogwarts library yet, but I left my copy of the Aborigine book in the Owlery for you; Mathias will show you where it s. I don’t have his second book here with me at Hogwarts, but I can bring it back for you after the Christmas holidays. I have to admit I only read the first one once, several years ago, and have just skimmed the second, but you will probably find them interesting. Besides, I get to hear all of his stories first hand. Family dinners when Demetrius is in town are always fascinating.
Speaking of the holidays, are you staying at Hogwarts or going home to your family? I have done both in the past, but this year I’m headed back home to Tinsworth. Demetrius and Viv won’t be back yet, and Julius is in America, so it’ll be quieter than usual, and I know Mum wants as many of us as possible to be there, with Dad being gone and all. It will be rather odd, I think. I’m not sure that I am looking forward to it, though I normally love Christmas. What about you? Do you have any fun family traditions?
Cheers,
Septimus
November 26, 1933
Dear Septimus,
Though I’m not sure about the ethics behind your ploy to get me to tell you about my project, I have to thank you for the information. Vivery’s insights were extremely interesting. I think I may have been looking in the wrong places, if the ability to communicate with animals is a hereditary gift determined by ethnicity. I think it is fascinating that people seem to communicate best with animals they consider divinities of some kind. I have spent the last few days buried in Wizarding genealogies and I think I may be on to something, though why owls I’m not yet sure.
I have also been reading your brother’s book. Thank you for that as well. He is a good writer, and it is a nice break from all of the old historical records and things I have been reading this term.
Don’t even try to figure out what I meant about the lure of knowledge, it won’t work.
I am going to London to visit my family for the holidays, as I do every year. I expect we will be attending a great deal of holiday Teas and Parties and Balls. I have never enjoyed Christmas very much. I hope your holidays turn out to be better than you expect.
Best,
Cedrella
November 27, 1933
Dear Drell,
I am glad I (or rather, Vivery) could be so helpful. It sounds like you are progressing on your not-so-secret-anymore project. I have to admit I was worried you had finished writing to me after you got the information you wanted from me, but I am glad I was mistaken.
As you can see from the address, I have decided that your name, being long and three syllables and full of ample opportunities for nicknames, needs to be shortened. “Drell” is my personal favorite, but I also came up with “Ceddie,” “Ella,” or “Drella.” What do you think? Or, perhaps you already have a nickname, and you are laughing at me right now?
I hope your Christmas turns out better than you expect, as well. What do you not like about it? I usually love the season: snow, lots of good food, sleigh rides, and my family’s other mad traditions make it great fun. My brothers and I have a huge snow fight in our field every Boxing Day, for example. And we all cook potato pancakes on Christmas Eve. This year will be different, though, without Dad.
Sending cheer your way,
Sep (nickname to nickname, you see).
November 29, 1933
Dear Septimus,
Perhaps I should have stopped writing to you, while I had the chance.
I do not have a nickname, nor do I want one. My family and sisters have called me Cedrella for nearly seventeen years without feeling that it is too long, and just because you are lazy I feel no need to change that. Of course, if you would like me to call you Sep, I will. Somehow it seems to fit you better than “Drell” or the rest of that nonsense fits me.
On another topic, you really must stop walking by my library table five times in an hour. It’s rather obvious, not to mention distracting.
Your Christmas traditions sound lovely. What are potato pancakes?
Best,
Cedrella (no nicknames, you see).
November 30, 1933
Dear Drell,
You need to try new things more often. No nicknames and no potato pancakes? (Which are, by the way, just what they sound like”patties of shredded potato. We eat them with onions and sour cream, and they’re absolutely delicious). I think Drell suits you quite well, actually. It’s unusual, it has an air of mystery to it, it’s original, and it is not stuffy or stuck up, which despite what you might say, I know you aren’t.
You don’t have to call me Sep, but if you want to that is fine with me. My brothers and I all have nicknames, except for Julius. Alexander is Alex, Demetrius is Demetri, Rudolph (that’s strange to call him that) is Rudy, Quintus is Quint, and Sixtus is Tusy. (As you can see my parents got rather uncreative with the names for their last three children). I simply cannot believe that you and your sisters have never shortened your names. Don’t worry about your nickname being embarrassing. I’ll never tell. Besides, I already know your biggest secret. What’s one more?
All right, I’ll stop visiting you in the library. Sorry. It does seem like you are in there an awful lot; don’t you ever stay in your common room?
Only two weeks of term left! I look forward to going home more every day. Rudy wrote to tell me that it snowed in Tinsworth. They’ve been taking the horses and sleigh out and everything.
I hope I’ll still be able to write you over the holidays. I have a very good idea for your Christmas present. I also wanted to say, Cedrella, that I have really enjoyed getting to know you this month. It was on November 1st that I replied to your first letter. Really, in the face of everything that’s been going on, it means more than you could know.
Always my best,
Septimus
November 30, 1933
Dear Sep,
I got your letter this morning and I wanted to reply while it was still November. Though I may refuse to read the next one if you address it to “Drell.”
I just wanted to say this: I do know.
As for writing to me over the break, I think it will be all right. I will give Mathias some very specific instructions.
Happy Yule, my friend.
Cedrella
Soldiers by dominiqueweasley
Chapter Notes: Even Charis cannot distract Cedrella from her contemplation of a certain encounter in the Owlery... especially when letters begin to be exchanged.