In The Shadow of Our Choices

Chapter 78 - Guises and Games

Andrew

The Three Broomsticks was thronged with students after the Quidditch match, but Andrew pushed his way to the bar. Sirona would have had every right to look utterly harassed at the influx of demanding patrons, but she was bustling about with her usual pleasant smile.

"Sirona," Andrew called to get her attention. "Is my father here yet?"

"Oh, hello there, hun," she said, flashing her smile his way. "Yes, he's here. You can head right up."

"Thank you."

Andrew slipped back through the crowd and up the stairs. However, he hesitated on one of the quieter landings, taking a deep, steadying breath. His father wanted an update, and Andrew didn't doubt he'd heard about the Ashwinders that Sallow, Ominis, and Elizabeth had fought outside Hogsmeade. He'd debated the entire way here what to say. Nothing illegal had happened, it had been self defense, and yet... the ease with which they had engaged in combat, how Elizabeth hadn't wavered when trying to warn them off. Or when Elizabeth had silenced Sebastian's one spell, and how casually Ominis and Sallow had spoken afterwards... Then, on the other hand, he couldn't get Elizabeth's panic afterwards out of his head.

He could convey this all to his father - ostensibly, there was nothing wrong with it. Nothing illegal. But worry nagged at the back of his mind. It felt like a betrayal, to reveal what had happened. Andrew considered lying for the briefest moment, but a lie big enough to cover up what had happened? His father would definitely catch that - Andrew had never been the best liar, and it was quite literally part of his father's job to notice things like that.

Sighing deeply, Andrew decided. The truth, with some omissions, may be best. Especially if he had any hope of his father agreeing to his other request. As he mounted the final flight of stairs and raised his hand to open the door, he saw it was trembling slightly. Merlin, he hated this.

"Good afternoon, Father," Andrew said as he let himself in.

His father had been reading a copy of the Daily Prophet, but he folded it upon Andrew's entrance, smiling. Andrew saw his notepad and quill already on the table.

"How was the match this morning?" His father asked, gesturing to the seat across from him.

"It was alright," Andrew said, taking the indicated chair. "Both teams were a bit of a mess, but Mason Blackwell pulled off a spectacular move at the end - you met him on my birthday."

"Ah, right," his father said, "The Blackwell boy... Good family."

Today, they had a pot of stew between them, and his father scooped some into a bowl, which he passed to Andrew. As he took it, his request teetered on the edge of his lips, hesitant to take the plunge.

"So," his father said as he served himself. "Did you learn anything more on what Mr. Sallow and Miss Smith meant by 'torture'?"

His request shrank back to the safety of the unspoken, as the question caught Andrew by surprise. He'd expected discussion on the Ashwinders first.

"No, nothing," Andrew said, shaking his head. "Though I have heard them speaking of Galdric the Wise again - that ancient wandmaker - as well as someone named Gregorovitch..." He hesitated for the briefest moment, and his father fixed him with a piercing stare, so Andrew continued. "They also mentioned something about a cure for Sallow's sister."

His father paused to pull over his notepad and scrawl some notes before commenting, "I spoke with Miss Sallow a few weeks ago. Bright girl, but she stuck with the story that their Uncle passed in his sleep."

There was an edge of skepticism in his father's voice.

"You didn't believe her?" Andrew asked.

"Hard to say, what with her condition," his father said offhandedly, "But she had a hard time meeting my eyes when we spoke of it."