14th July, 1895 — Morwenna's House

Before the sun had even begun to encroach on the shadows that morning Morwenna had been outside her house casting an increasingly elaborate series of protection spells. An outside observer might have said there was some mania in the way she flicked her wand at every crack and cranny that someone might come in through: even more at the fact she laughed to herself intermittently at the thought that she hadn't done this amount of thorough spell work since she had been obliged to stop herself getting out.

Many restless hours later Morwenna read in her sitting room and waited. She felt as numb as she had since the news of Mason's death had come and yet today, for the first time since that terrible moment, she felt some of her fighting spirit return. Not enough for her to lower the wards around her house mind, but she had set herself on this course and intended to see it through.

When the knock came it was far earlier than she had expected. The long case clock in the hall told her it was barely nine o'clock as she hobbled past with her stick in hand and knowing as she did the inefficiency of Ministry decision making Morwenna had not expected then until at least lunchtime.

She flicked her wand at the door as she approached, ready to cast a shield if the hit wizards were on the other side - Morwenna would not put it past Lucius Lestrange to send them for a moment - but instead she lowered it and chuckled.

"I'm not sure you really want to be seen calling on me today, my dear."

Gemma Simpson

  

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MJ knows my soul rings to the rune of this iconic hat

Things had been heavy since she'd come home, but Gemma had never been afraid of hard things. She had made a commitment and she fully planned to stick to it. Morwenna Skeeter, by extension of Professor Skeeter, had always been good to her and there was little that would change that. Plus she thought Mrs. Skeeter might be in need of a friendly face.

"You are, unfortunately, stuck with me." Gemma warned her as she stepped over the threshold, smiling. She had a basket of food under one arm that she'd convinced her family cook to give her and some flowers from Professor Skeeter's garden, just some wildflowers that had needed some clearing, but cheery nevertheless. "Shall I make tea?" She knew Mrs. Skeeter would oust her if she really didn't want the company, but Gemma would stay as long as she thought necessary before she headed back to her clean up of Professor Skeeter's yard.

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It was kindly meant – she would have expected nothing less – but still, Morwenna couldn’t help but worry. The last thing she wanted was for the Ministry to think that anyone in her circle of friends or family had been complicit; there inevitably would, but there was no proof and the more they distanced themselves from her the better. She would turn Elinor away at the threshold if she had to, and she hoped that Kieran had the sense never to darken her doorstep again. She doubted it, but the hope was there.

But now she was tested and she immediately capitulated. For all her bravado Morwenna knew herself too well – she hated being alone.

“Alright, but on your own head be it,” she said grumpily as she hobbled back into the sitting room to wait. Why were these children so brave when it had taken her so long to tell the truth? Perhaps they ought to oust everyone at the Ministry over 50 and leave the next generation to it?

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   Barnabas Skeeter

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MJ knows my soul rings to the rune of this iconic hat

Gemma chuckled and shook her head. An expected answer, but still amusing all the same. She headed straight to the tidy kitchen and put the kettle on before starting in on the flowers. "I stopped by the Plunkett's shop on the way over, they had some bread right from the oven and some delicious peaches." The aromas wafting from the basket had been torture on her walk over. Gem was often the victim of her own scatterbrain, getting too deep into a project and then simply forgetting to eat until she was on the verge of passing out. It wasn't healthy, but it was how she operated.

While the kettle started to warm, Gemma rummaged through the cabinets, unafraid to do so, looking for both a plate (easily found) and a vase (not so much). She gave up on the flowers for a moment and set about making a snack plate with the things she had brought. Slicing bread and fruit and the cheese she'd picked up while she hummed to herself. It had been a long while since she'd been in a real kitchen, but after living in tents and other less-civilized situations, she found it all rather easy these days.

"Do you have a vase for these flowers? The cosmos were absolutely taking over, so I picked them." She admitted with a wry smile, knowing Mrs. Skeeter would easily identify where the flowers had come from.

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The kindness was almost too much to bear, and it was wholly unexpected given what she had done. Or rather what she had failed to do at the time.

It wasn’t the fall that would kill her, she suspected, but rather the Ministry hearing when she landed. Becoming a werewolf was not a crime – much as she suspected some would prefer it was – but lying about it? Oh, she was going to pay for that and it would not be kind. Still, it had needed doing and no one else was as well-placed, so the risk had seemed worth it.

Apart from the friendship of a few wonderful people she had nothing left to lose really and, as it turned out, she may not have lost that either.

“Behind you,” she nodded towards the glass vase that contained some wilted begonias and watched fondly as Gemma set to work. Afterwards, with a table set between them as though nothing was at all untoward, Morwenna finally choked out a sob.

“Gemma, you really should not be here. I…Mason would never forgive me if I ruined you too.”

  

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MJ knows my soul rings to the rune of this iconic hat