Chapter Text
December 3, 1995
Ms. Graves,
Unfortunately, we have not heard from Alex Graves since June, enclosed are all articles written during his time with The Modernist. We can tell you that he left on good terms and an offer to write for us again per his freelance contract. As to where he is publishing now, we are unaware and wish you the best of luck in your endeavor.
We would also like to thank you for your extension of your subscription to The Modernist from the three month sample period to a full year of information about international affairs and business. Alongside your subscription, you are also entered into a monthly drawing to name a magical creature in our partnered conservation reserve, The Magical Creature Conservancy (MCC).
Best regards,
Alice Powell, Assistant Editor in Chief
I slumped back against the chest at the foot of my bed and put the letter on top of the pile of letters from other newspapers Alex had written for over the last five years. The letter from my cousin Quincy said that Alex had not entered the United States in the last year before wishing me a Merry Christmas with an enclosed picture of him and Cassandra Barebone, both wearing silly Santa hats. He had tried to send me some chocolate, but it had melted to a goopy, caramel mess during the trip.
Letter after letter from newspapers telling me the exact same thing. They had not heard from my brother in months, and had sent me copies of all of his articles. I had subscribed to five different papers to keep an eye on things but I was losing hope on finding him this way. Something would have to change, my approach would have to change but I was unsure what that next step should be.
I checked The Modernist off the list of newspapers my brother had written for who had responded to me. Now I had the weird, niche papers who I had no record of him writing for and the top of that list was The Quibbler. Something I sorely doubted Alex had any interest in writing for.
I am not sure what the next step should be, but I needed to try something.
Oo0Oo0
Tavish Thacker I suspected may have been older than Lucinda and looked like it with his ruddy cheeks and sorrowful brown eyes that reminded me of a basset hound, but sparkled with the energy of a terrier. Tavish had an easy smile that lit up his face and I could not help the impression that he had been very charming in his youth.
Yes, I quite liked Tavish, even if I had a hard time understanding him at points.
When I would help him in the garden or with some work on the grounds he told me all kinds of stories about the history of magical Britain, stories about my ancestors who lived on the property which made me wonder why I wasn't hearing them from Lucinda. I asked him about it one day and he told me that Lucinda was a lonely soul and sometimes reminders of happier times were hard for people like that.
I stuck my hands in the black dirt to continue planting flowers while Tavish trimmed the shrubs nearby with a few flicks of his wand. The greenhouse was warm to counter the foot of snow outside and the white flakes coming down to add another foot. It was cold, pristine and beautiful and gave the grounds an otherworldly feel like stepping into the realms of fae.
"Ya know," Tavish started in his low, warm voice. "I've worked for two generations of this family an' Lucinda was always one dedicated ta ensuring the land was cared for."
"I'm not surprised. She raves about your work to her guests. Elizabeth is quite taken with your hedge maze and the nibbling shrubs you hid in there."
Tavish laughed. "They're a fun little surprise for da tourists," he paused for a moment. "I wonder if I’ll work for three generations of da Ainsley family."
"What makes you say that?"
Thacker gave me a look of pity and interest. "Yer part of an old family that is dyin' out. Lucinda is the last in name, and 'er brother has passed on without a son, an' she can't stand the Averys. Wit' ya an' yer brother about, she can remove tha' flock'o vultures."
I felt my stomach turn at the mention of Alex. "Was Alex here?"
Tavish tilted his head slightly and stopped trimming the hedges. "Yeh, five years past."
My hands moved into my lap and I ignored the urge to scrub the dirt off my hands as Tavish continued to speak.
"'E showed up on the doorstep much like ya did and stayed two months 'til 'e was on his feet. 'E visited once a month after 'e got settled. Nice man. Lucinda was quite taken with 'im, when 'e stopped visiting 'e sent letters but that stopped abou' a year ago. Then ya arrived and Lucinda was cheerin' up again."
I was never told this. My chest felt tight.
"Lucinda said 'e was asked ta do some reportin' abroad, though we've seen no articles.
No articles. The timeline adds up with what I know, but this… I had to ask Lucinda about this.
"Can you tell me anything else? What was Alex like? Does he still smoke?”
Tavish laughed, “Yeh, far ta much, 'e looked and smelled like a chimney. 'E was serious, thoughtful. A lot like ya ta be honest. Only, 'e turned on a knut to rail about injustice and society if given a chance. 'Ow the powerful use their influence ta hide their crimes."
Yes. That sounded like Alex. I thought about the fight that sent my brother out the door of Byrgen House for the last time. He never seemed to give up on his convictions did he?
Tavish's expression grew more quizzical. "Did Lucinda nae mention it ta ya?"
"No,” I stood up and brushed the dirt of the greenhouse off of my knees and put my cloak over my shoulders with shaky hands, “but I am going to ask her about it."
I left the greenhouse quickly, my cloak billowing out behind me like a lone black wing on the snowy landscape. A murder of crows cawed in the distant trees as I walked up the path that Tavish and I had carved through the snow to the greenhouse a couple of hours ago. The voices of the crows echoing loudly over the snowy landscape as evening began to fall. I wondered what they spoke of? The weather probably.
My thoughts turned to Lucinda, a dry, ashy taste came unbidden to my mouth. How had this never come up? Was she hiding this? Did she know where Alex was?
I swung open the door, causing old Barry to jump and almost drop the vase he was cleaning, fumbling with it in the air for a moment before catching it and bowing to me politely. I did not stop to tell him that that was unnecessary the way I usually would and stormed up the stairs, my chest hollow and echoing each breath I took. I removed my cloak with heavy limbs and draped it over my arm, it felt heavy like lead or iron.
Lucinda’s office was in my sight.
I didn't even stop to knock. I swung the door open quickly, the warmth of the office fireplace warming my cheeks that were rosy from the cold winter air. I stepped across the threshold. The office was clad in dark wood and antiques and lit with low light. Barry clearly took very good care of it judging by how beautiful and shiny the floors and cabinets were. I noted the cabinet of small whiskey glasses and the drink that went with it sitting behind the glass door.
“What is it, Audrey?” Lucinda's stern countenance was always something that offered me comfort or made me recoil to rethink my requests or opinions. Her thin face and grey eyes reminded me of some kind of patient predator, always watching, taking in the world around her and filing it away for later use.
Though, after what Tavish had told me, her demeanor offered me neither comfort nor fear. Just rage. Just the warm, bristling anger that crackled and surged under my skin like uncontrolled magic.
I steeled myself and tried to find the resolve that had carried me up these stairs. It did not take long to find.
"Alex was here," Lucinda jolted up from her papers at the sound of my quiet voice a few steps from the entryway. Her eyes were wide behind her glasses. "You met him. He lived here and you never said anything about it!"
Lucinda sighed and leaned back in her chair, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose as if to starve off a headache.
"What brought this on?"
"Tavish told me Alex was here, that he was in touch with you until almost a year ago!" I stepped forward, walking across the room until I could place my hands on top of the empty chair by her desk, throwing my cloak over the back of the chair. "And you never mentioned it. You've never brought it up. Why?"
“First of all, communication is a two way street. I do not read minds. Second, Alex is a grown man who can look after his own affairs." Lucinda maintained her steady cool tone that once made me so envious of the confidence behind it.
"You haven't heard from him in a year! He's published no articles in that time! Don't you find that strange?"
Lucinda gave a weary sigh and leaned back in her chair, with a pinched expression. "What do you know about your brother? And I mean really know, not just whatever ideas your fanciful mind has concocted."
"Well…" I paused for a moment to collect my thoughts before Lucinda motioned for me to have a seat in the empty chair I had been leaning against. I accepted the invitation. "He was in Thunderbird at Ilvermorny. He's nine years older than me. He left home five years ago and never spoke to us again."
Lucinda nodded. "That's very general."
My temper rose at her mocking tone. "He wrote for several English newspapers including the Daily Prophet and the Egregious Erumpent. His coworkers seemed to like him. And… and…" I trailed off. "No one knows where he is now!"
Was this all I had? General facts about a brother who had left me long ago? My throat ached with a repressed feeling of tears and shame. Maybe I had built Alex up into someone who would be willing to see me as a person? A kind older brother who I felt so denied in not having.
"Why did Alex leave home?" Lucinda's question brought me out of my reflective state. Her brow was knit in confusion and curiosity. "He mentioned it, but never told me what happened."
I paused for a moment, wondering what exactly I should say about the matter. I replayed the memory in my mind so many times that it felt like an old, uncomfortable friend. A friend who sickened me with previous deeds. Who mocked me with what could have beens and should haves.
"There was a scandal about one of my father's… associates. Apparently one of his old mentees… Um… An acting Senator…” I struggled with the word and replaced it, the word feeling gross and heavy on my tongue. "Assaulted an intern with a love potion. Alex caught wind of the story while working for The New York Ghost and published it after an investigation."
Lucinda looked up at me, her eyebrows raised and eyes wide in shock.
I remembered the fight so well.
When someone is quiet, people forget they even exist for a time. It’s like having an invisibility cloak. The sound of raised voices moved me from my bedroom to the staircase of my home while my father and brother raged at one another, the insults and threats flew through the air as I sat above them out of sight on the top of the stairs, feeling sick to my stomach as their voices continued to crescendo through Byrgen House.
“He raped that girl and you want me to retract it!” Alex’s voice was the louder of the two, the higher tones echoing all the louder off marble and stone.
“She’s lying for money and power!”
“I know Val! You know Val! She doesn’t lie!”
“He’s a good man! He would never-!”
“Look at the facts you son of a bitch!”
“What did you just say to me?” My father’s voice was dangerously low and made me curl up at the top of the stairs, my knees pulled closer to my chest as my eyes widened. I could not tear myself away from the drama unfolding beneath me. Alex’s reddened cheeks and wild grey eyes consumed my focus, his black hair flying out in multiple directions.
“You pulled every string to make sure your friend suffered no consequences! What else should I call you? You a perv too? You were up that woman’s skirts before mom was even dead!”
The crack of my brother getting backhanded made me recoil.
Alex straightened, his hand on his cheek and an odd smile on his face. Was that blood on his lip? “Were you fucking her while my mom died? Is that why Audrey had to be there alone?”
The mention of my name made my chest tight and I felt myself struggle to breathe.
“Get out.”
“Gladly.”
Alex had never packed his bags, he never said another word to our father. He grabbed his coat from the hook by the door, stormed into the dark of the night and that was the last time I ever saw him.
Lucinda looked at me as she fixed her sleeves and bottled her ink to put away for the evening.
"There was a nasty fight about it with our father. That’s all I know.”
I remembered Valencia, she was one of Alex’s classmates, and a close friend of his. She had a bright smile, and a kind word for me before she and Alex would go meet up with their other friends. It was why she went to my brother for help, she trusted he would help her, and Alex trusted her version of events implicitly.
It hurt to mention it. That my family could come part with a few words and never desire each other’s company again. Our fragility was embarrassing in a way, to be so quick to anger and so committed to the hurt of it. Yes. There was something to be learned from it and maybe Alex could help me learn what that thing was. Did he have regrets? Did he miss us? Did he miss me?
I could not be sure of any of those things, but I needed to find Alex, even if it was just one meeting where he told me that he never wanted to see me again, then I could lay that ghost to rest. Maybe I could lay a ghost to rest for him as well by finding him.
I knew I loved Alex, but was the version of him I loved one of ideals and fabricated reality from the mind of a hurt child, or did I see him too clearly even then?
Either way, I knew how this part of my life would end.
Lucinda came out of her thoughts with a nod of her head and a couple of raps on the desk with her boney knuckles to get my attention.
“You came here to find Alex.” Lucinda’s grey eyes were hard. “I don’t know what to tell you Audrey, your brother likes to row and from what you told me, his argument with me does not sound like a one off event.”
“He had a fight with you?”
Lucinda nodded, before standing up to look out the window to the snow covered grounds. “Alex knows his own mind and, unlike you, has never been shy about expressing it. We fought about politics, the way I assume he did with your father. Werewolf rights was the topic. He did not leave in a dramatic way, he just went back to his flat and stopped writing to me or visiting at all. My letters returned unopened, the post owl would stop trying to take them, he seemed confused by the name and address on the letter.” Lucinda sighed. “I eventually gave up on reaching out and decided that if he wanted to see me, he knew where I lived.”
She was hurt. Alex had hurt her in a quiet way. Though, Alex had always saved his real spite and nastiness for our father.
“Why were you fighting about werewolf rights?”
“Alex had gotten it into his head that maybe we were not helping those with the condition, that we were setting them up for failure by not making wolfsbane potion affordable and private for them. I think it's a fool's errand to try, they’ve formed their own tribes and communities outside of proper wizarding society and good riddance.”
“Why is that?”
“There was a big scandal at Hogwarts a couple of years ago. Dumbledore hired a werewolf and he almost ate some of the students!”
What the hell?
America had a history of actively hunting werewolves, which was… Complicated. There were pictures in my old history textbooks of their torture and hanging their wolf heads on the wall as a trophy after the public skinning. In the modern age, we still had them, but they lived in very isolated communities in vast forests, they had no desire to communicate with MACUSA or other wizards. Werewolves frightened me, they were dangerous and I could not imagine letting one into a school to teach!
“He hired a werewolf to work with children?” My voice was incredulous. “That’s so dangerous!”
“Why do you think we have a registry?”
“MACUSA used to arrange hunts for sport on werewolves. That stopped when a pack leader bit the son of a prominent politician. Instead we moved them deep into national parks with their own territories, let them self govern and forgot about them for the most part.”
“What happened to the boy?”
“The story goes he went with the pack, eventually started an uprising. I think he was killed and made an example of. There have been no real werewolf uprisings since.”
The room was silent with the weight of confession. Like a tomb or graveyard shrouded in shadows of silence and death. I turned my attention to the swinging pendulum of the clock on the wall, watching it reminded me that time was passing and that I was still alive, not wrapped in death’s shroud to be whisked away to oblivious silence.
I steeled myself once more, peering at the formidable woman in front of me with new understanding. Lucinda lost her brother, had put her career on hold to run the family home and raise her niece, Lucina had run off and married a man in a foreign country leaving her alone with only Tavish and Barry to help her. The relief of meeting her great-nephew must have been such a blessing, a weight off of her shoulders and a comfortable reminder of the niece she missed. I needed her help. Looking for Alex was not going to be an easy task, that grew clearer every day and I needed new avenues. Lucinda had connections that I did not.
Lucinda heaved a tired sigh that made her look much older as she pinched the bridge of her nose to help allay the headache I was sure she was developing.
“I… I need your help.”
Lucinda looked up at me, her eyes questioning as she peered over the rims of her glasses.
“Can you help me find my brother?”
“What?”
“Y-you heard me. If we find Alex, this solves your problem of the Averys getting your estate, Alex will be able to sign the paperwork and take them out of the picture to inherit.”
“Alex told me he does not want it. The other option is jumping through the hoops to leave it to you without alerting the allies the Averys have in the Ministry. Frankly that sounds leagues easier, it would make you-“
“I have no desire to marry for money or power, or offer it to others as a benefit. If I marry it will be someone willing to climb a career ladder without my connections here or abroad. I’ve been a target for people who want things from my family for years. I want to be seen as a person and not a bargaining chip.” Each word I spoke left me feeling stronger and more confident. “If you pursue that path without my consent, Lucinda, I will leave Thornell to ruin and sell it at the first opportunity.”
Lucinda chuckled, “Cunning creature. You could have a real future in politics if you applied yourself.”
“Politics has brought me nothing but misery.”
“Then you are far smarter than any fool politician already, but you are too nice and would never be able to hold power.” Lucinda smiled. “If you want my help, you have it. Let’s keep it quiet though, the Averys are already circling waiting for me to fall down the stairs, I don’t need them to set up roost in my foyer.”
I giggled quietly at the image of chinless Harrow Avery and his family of literal birds watching Lucinda descend the stairs with the same anticipation of the crowd at the beginning Quadpot match.
“You are right though, Alex would never stop publishing any of his pieces. He could have moved on to a less traditional society, it would be easy for him with our open borders into Europe. I have friends who have retired to various places, they could keep an eye on the papers there.”
“Do you think he left the country?”
“It’s possible.” Lucinda stood up, her grey robes flowing as she stepped quickly from behind the desk. “Alex is a bit like a cat, he comes and goes as he pleases, but always turns up in the end. I am not worried, he may actually have nine lives, but I think he needs to come home and build a relationship with you if nothing else.”
I did not put much stock in Alex running off to Europe, staying within the United Kingdom would be more beneficial, I don’t think Alex spoke any other languages fluently and an American abroad seemed something that would stand out more in more foreign cultures where English was not the primary language. Also, this Harry Potter mess would be too tempting for Alex to want to move away from. Madness or greatness was always something that could plague the human consciousness with its potential. I was not sure if I believed Harry Potter’s account of the end of the Triwizard Tournament, but I understood it as a story for vigorous minds.
I nodded and smiled. “Thank you, Auntie.”
It was quiet for a moment, Lucinda wrung her hands and peered into the fire with a solemn expression.
“Audrey.”
“Hm?”
“I don’t see you as a bargaining chip in a game of status.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Not entirely.” Lucinda stood up and stepped out from behind the desk, her fingers drifting along the shiny wooden top. “I want you to be… Happy. Safe. Comfortable. Young people don’t understand the comfort financial security can bring a person, the worries it alleviates. Though, I suppose that stance would make me a hypocrite, seeing as I never married.”
It did, but I wasn’t going to say anything. Instead I nodded, encouraging her to continue this train of thought.
“When Lucina left, I had nothing but this house. This cold, empty house and all of the memories within that contained the failures and successes of our family that I found myself struggling to live up too. Lucina was very much the light of my life and meeting her children brought some of that joy back.” She turned to look out the window to the darkening sky and the slow dance of stars that appeared in the inky expanse above. “You remind me of her, and a large part of me wanted to remove any chance of you returning to the States. It was a silly, selfish notion, but…”
“Ah,” I paused and collected my wandering thoughts. “We should talk more.”
“About what?”
“Anything you like. All of our conversations are very…”
“Prim?” She turned to look back at me with a coy expression.
“Yeah… I’d love to hear more about your life, your childhood and… and my mom if you have the time.”
A full smile graced Lucinda’s face, making her look ten years younger. “I can make all the time we want.”