Silent Secrets

Chapter XII

PART II

I crouched in silence, slowly moving to the other side of the staircase to peer into the kitchen, my cleaning forgotten. It wasn't as if my father would reprimand me--he was far too occupied with the strange woman claiming to be a representative from a school that couldn't possibly exist. Surely she hadn't meant 'witchcraft and wizardry' as in real magic and such...you'd have to be mad to believe such things...

"Where is your daughter?" The woman asked. She was rather severe looking, with square-shaped spectacles that rested on her nose.

"I haven't one."

I stiffened. What did I expect? For him to be honest and say she's cleaning somewhere? To say I was out? To say I was dead? Any of those might be better than a casual denial of my existence.

"Don't play games with me, Mr. Peters. I am well-aware of the presence of an eleven-year-old child in this house, and I have a message for her."

My father's hands trembled as he prepared tea, the kettle rattling as it clinked against the teacups. "She's not mine," he mumbled, almost too quietly for me to hear.

I froze. What?

"I quite frankly don't care if she is your legitimate child or if she happens to belong to some poor woman down the road who couldn't care for her. She lives in your house, and I have a message for her."

"Are...are you quite sure you aren't in the wrong place?" my father stuttered, his eyes wide and panicked.

The woman reached into her pocket and produced a thick envelope with fancy writing scrawled upon it. "To Ms. J.Peters, The Closet Upstairs, 718 Grey Lane, Carlisle, Cumbria," she returned the letter to her pocket, peering sternly through her spectacles at my father's appalled, astonished face. "Yes, Mr. Peters. I am entirely convinced I am not in the wrong place. Now, why don't you call your daughter, or charge, or whoever she is to you, so that we can continue on. And good heavens, at least try to pour the tea in the cup!"

My father swore, watching the dark liquid as it spilled over the counter I'd just cleaned splashing onto the floor. I winced. I'd be cleaning that up later, I was certain. "Jazlyn!" he bellowed, reaching for a towel to mop up the mess. I scurried forward, curiosity driving my movements. I didn't come because he called, like a pet dog that begged for love and attention. I came because I wanted to know what the woman wanted with me.

She smiled kindly at me, though it did little to soften her hard features. "Hello, Miss Peters."

"Jaz," I said quietly, surprising both my father and myself.

He opened his mouth to reprimand me, but was cut off by the woman's welcoming, "Of course, Jaz. Now, why don't we all go into the parlor, " she reached into her robes and withdrew a slim stick, waving it in a simple pattern in the air and smiling to herself while I watched in cold shock as a tea tray appeared out of thin air, hovering slightly above the table, complete with biscuits and a steaming kettle of fresh tea, "and I'll explain to you what exactly I'm doing here."

* * *

I sat nervously on the edge of a plush chair, unused to making use of our furniture. Usually, I stood like a servant in the corner, and my father lounged on the couches. Though plush, the chair was made of a rough, scratchy material, and the springs poked through the upholstery in places. Altogether, it wasn't extremely comfortable, but it was still better than the hard wood floor. Professor McGonagall made herself comfortable on the couch, and my father hovered nervously near the coffee table, where the tea tray rested. The professor passed me a teacup and said politely, "Would you like a biscuit, Miss Peters?"