Unspoken // Theseus Scamander

Chapter Three - The Case

Word Count: 1,479 words. 

Warnings: None.

Twenty three years ago...

"You can't go," I told her, rushing into my sister's bedroom.

Anna was already packing, her case on her bed. My sister quickly pulled the clothes from her wardrobe, not bothering to fold them.

"I don't have a choice Nat," she replied.

"I don't understand," I muttered. At ten years old, I had no idea why she wanted to go. Why she had to go. The only thing that I knew was that she was leaving me in that horrible house.

"Aurelius and I have to go Natalia," she told me firmly. "Mother and father want me to give him away."

I shook my head. I didn't understand and I wouldn't understand for years to come. In fact, I could never truly understand until my life and the life of my child was threatened.

I had hesitated to tell her. To speak to her of what Abe had told me. Our parents wouldn't allow her to see him nor he to see her. I had hesitated, but I had told her.

"Abe said that he'll take you away," I muttered.

Anna froze, turning around slowly. "What?" she asked.

I hadn't told her because I had been scared to lose her. The child that I was didn't understand the truth. "He was here this morning. When I went to get the post. He said that he knew about the baby and that he would take you away from here."

I had tried so hard to remember the exact words Abe had used, but I was distracted by the will to not cry.

Anna hurried to kneel in front of me, a hand placed gently on either one of my arms. "What else did he say?"

I was crying at that point. "He said to meet him at the dock for the first ship out today."

My older sister turned her wrist over, looking at her watch. "I've got twenty minutes."

Then she was gone. I had tried to speak to her again. To convince her to stay, but what good was my little voice compared to hers? She never made it to America, and I never heard Abe talk about our conversation again.

ᵜᵜᵜᵜᵜ

The decoration of the dining room made me feel entirely out of place. Three chandeliers hung in procession to each other on the ceiling and the walls were painted with golden swirls and the colours of the rich.

"Miss Clayton!" Graves' voice called out.

I spotted the Auror sat at a small table in the far corner of the room. Taking a deep breath, I waded through the crowds of excited people. It almost felt like I was back in my office, pushing through the crowds of workers to get anywhere, but I wasn't in my office. I wasn't stuck there anymore. I was here. Heading to America.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked as I took a seat.

I had almost missed the question, too intrigued by the sheets of paper that the man had splayed across the table. "Is it not too open to be discussing case details here?" I posed.

Percival Graves smirked lightly, leaning back into his chair – which rest against the wall – a small glass of whiskey in his hand. "They're too absorbed in their own problems. They don't have the time for ours. Do you want a drink?"

I shook my head. "It's miracle enough that I'm on a ship, I will not drink on one."

He held up his glass in a mock salute. "Whatever floats your boat."