Thorne cellars
Diane finally visits the Stokers, and learns a few home truths.
It was a little strange, not following the so-familiar route through Thorne's corridors to the infirmary. Diane paused for a moment, re-adjusting the satchel crammed under her arm. Obviously they'd had to be moved, everyone who could be, had been, but… Another little thing, another silent tick in the countdown.
So, melodrama aside, then -
She took the twisting flight of stairs carefully downward, glaring at the steps themselves as she did so. She was fairly sure the height of each one was more variable than standard. The stairs ended abruptly in a flare of narrow wooden doorways and Diane knocked sharply on the nearest. A moment later the wood pulled back, revealing Dave Stoker's big - and oddly serious - face.
He shook his head solemnly.
"Sorry, we don't buy door-to-door."
"Funny." Diane stepped past, as his expression became a grin and he stood back. The internal dimensions of the room beyond didn't match what the exterior had suggested, but that was hardly unusual. Sparsely furnished, the bed with that slightly melted look that a hasty transfiguration alteration would give furniture; a small enchanted window in the far wall leaked fading sunlight into the room, tingeing it gold.
As Diane entered, the room's other occupant looked up from where she was warily balancing a kettle on a jar of bluish flame, and smiled.
"Hello stranger!" Carys stood up and crossed the small room quickly, catching Diane in a swift hug before she could even put her bag down. After a moment, and before Di could start to squirm, her aunt stepped back and looked her up and down.
"How've you been, Di? We haven't seen hide nor hair of you for ages. You'll be keeping yourself busy?"
Diane smiled carefully in what she hoped was a casual way.
"Oh, you know. Things to do, mostly with Fred and G - " she stopped and shot a quick glare over her shoulder. That had been a definite snigger from Dave's direction, but her uncle merely held up a mug, placatingly.
"Still drink it abominably?"
"Not wanting seventy-percent milk is not abominably." Di moved over to the bed and sat down, surprised when it didn't creak. She began to rummage around in the bag, and glanced up as she did so.
"How are things with you two?" she asked, meeting Dave's glance with silent agreement: 'I won't mention the ghost taunting if you don't. If Carys saw the look, she ignored it.
"Not bad, all things." The older woman picked up the kettle and shook it gently. "Needs a refill. Let's see if that tap's still where I left it."
Diane's hand dropped to her wand, but before she could offer an augmenti Carys had shut the door behind her. Di blinked.
"I could've - "
"Yeah, we know." Dave jerked a thumb towards the door. "That's your aunt practicing the lost art of Subtlety." He sat down and Di felt worry start to knot in her stomach as his expression went serious again. It was always strange to see anything other than the typical grin framed by those awful sideburns. She shifted uncomfortably, but before she could think of a way to better phrase: 'what on earth are you talking about?', Dave leaned back, folding his hands on his stomach, and looked hard at her.
"So, how d'you want to play this? Straight answers, or filling the gaps?"
Diane's heart sank. There was a faint chance this would be about the hospital -
"A-nd you have chosen door number two." Dave held up a hand, cutting off the start of her protest. "We have: One hideout manor in the backside of nowhere, oddly full of medical professionals and long-term patients, despite never having been heard of before by anyone. So soon after a major incident at the big wizard hospital.
"Hidden schooling with a lot of old students hanging around, and they don't seem too-passive people. Pastimes that look very much like something cadets get up to. And I gotta admit, the radio here's a damn sight more interesting than what the Beeb cooks up." Dave stopped exaggeratedly counting on his fingers and looked up, one thick eyebrow raised. "Did I miss anything? Or shall we add 'my niece, who's never so much shown interest in the phaser replicas, now apparently spends her time making weaponry'. Quite a hobby-shift from books to munitions, Di, I - "
"You're complaining?" Diane was surprised at the venom in her own voice, but suddenly she was angry. She was not going to sit here and be sarcastically interrogated at, and definitely not for this. "If it wasn't for my 'hobby' - as you so accurately put it - " she snapped " - we wouldn't be talking now. You think I'm keeping things from you? Yes. I am. A hundred things, and you wouldn't understand any of them, so back off!"
She stood up and stepped round the bed, but suddenly Dave was in front of her, blocking her path to the door. He was taller than her, but not by much in her boots, and the dark stares locked. There was the start of anger in his eyes, too.
"No. Why wouldn't I understand? Too wizardly for the family's mundane sheep?"
"You know what? Yes," Diane shot back, her cheeks flaring hotly. "Even if I told you, what could you do? I'm sorry you got involved in all this, but it's not your war - " she cut off, her voice failing as Dave's jaw dropped, his eyes wide in disbelief.
"Not my…" he trailed off, staring as if she'd just sprouted an extra head.
Whatever Diane had expected to break the moment, it hadn't been laughter. Dave leaned his head back and sat down against the door, chortling mirthlessly at the ceiling. Diane hesitated, a faint edge of panic rising. This wasn't normal, was it? She hadn't visited the Stokers recently - before all this, anyway - true, and maybe the hex effects hadn't completely worn off… Instinctively inching her hand towards her wand, she dropped into a crouch, slightly further back than pure familial concern would have dictated. Before she could speak, though, the laughter stopped. Dave looked at her, almost through her, and when he spoke there was a strange edge to his voice.
"Y'know how old I was the last time this happened?" He flicked a hand across her, gesturing head-to-toe. "Bit younger'n you, and not such a fine example of academic prowess, of course. Well-into the 'rebel without a cause' bit."
"Wand," Diane found herself automatically correcting their joke. Dave shrugged.
"Both. Family divided and all that. Be nice to say it was all about me, but I wasn't that vain even then."
Diane blinked.
"What are you -?"
"'Purity' of blood," Dave snapped, then rolled his eyes. "Hell, don't look so surprised I know the lingo. Still, it wasn't my war at the start, I was quite sure. Squibs don't count, anyway, so why should I give a damn about the inbreeding-themed squabbles of a society I'd stormed out of about the time I hit tenor?" He stopped again, tapping an idle beat on the tiled floor. "Was the newspapers first. I mean, they never get it right - " the other hand brushed unconsciously across his chest " - but you read between the lines, y'know? Easy to flip the page, change the channel, but when it's every page? When every bulletin's another coded misinterpretation?"
He laughed quietly again, shaking his head. "When everyone's talking about it, getting it wrong, and you can't tell them. An explanation right out of Tolkein'd wash about as well as today. But it's not your war, right? Not when it's in your news, in your town if you know the right streets. Or when you're suddenly down an aunt, a cousin or two, and it takes an awkward slip at the funeral for you to find out it was at each other's wands."
Ice rippled down Diane's spine.
"I didn't know that," she muttered. Dave shrugged.
"Look 'em up if you like. Robert, Agatha, Merriot, although god-knows who stood which way."
Diane shifted uncomfortably. This really wasn't how she'd expected… anything to go. Serious Dave Stoker was a new and confusing prospect. She tried to collect her thoughts.
"Look, I didn't mean… I mean, He Who… It's important for everyone, if we don't, well, win, then it's not just wizards that'll - " she stopped, and glanced away, swallowing the start of a stammer. "I just… I don't want you to get hurt again. I can't protect y - "
"Hey." The word was almost a growl and Diane jumped, turning back to meet a surprisingly angry glare. Dave scowled, first at her and then at the wand at her side.
"Protection. You… the hell, Di." He stood up abruptly, glared at her, and started to pace the room. Diane gave a half-growled grunt of frustration, balling her free hand as she stood up and span round to face the pacing figure.
"What? What did I say this time?"
"For the love of - " Dave dragged a hand through his hair, sending a few of the more lively curls striking out for freedom. "Look. Thank you, for coming to find us in Guilford, and… without the counter-curses here, I know Carys probably wouldn't have -" He stopped and span round to face her, anger etched on his face.
"You came through for us, and I will be grateful forever. But I do not need your protection! Bloody hell, Diane, I'm not a child, I'm not helpless and I'm not stupid. Why d'you think I get the rag that is the Prophet, or that mad Quibbler? Why d'you think I've been the big clown down the Diagon or Avalane pubs? You've gone into hiding, ask me for ballistics gel and medical supplies; you've been in hacked radio broadcasts talking about ending the war, speaking alongside that Potter lad, and every one of you talk like you're gearing up for bloody Ragnarock itself!" Dave stopped, breathing heavily, and shook his head.
"I won't be useless in here. Just because some robed lunatic decided to see what colour my guts are doesn't mean I'm going to sit back and watch this time. The very, very last thing I want is to be the awkward bugger crammed into a hired suit at your funeral. I will decide if a war is mine, and frankly I was 'involved in all this' a long time before I got the new scars."
Silence fell. Somewhere behind the rest of her reeling mind, a small part of Diane's brain noted that she'd never seen Dave show so much of her mother's steel.
He was right, though. The thought came as a bit of a shock. She'd become so used to thinking of Dave Stoker as an amicable idiot…
He attacked two wizards. And he's faced a damn sight more Dark magic than you ever have, Di. Rainbow haircuts don't quite cut it, do they…?
She slid her wand back into her belt. The words were hard to summon.
"I… I'm sorry. I… forget, sometimes, that - "
"I'm not quite a stupid as I act?" A hint of a grin reached Dave's face, and his expression softened slightly. Some of the tension leaked out of the air, and Diane rolled her eyes.
"Yes. Although you do a very good act."
"I try." Dave folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, mirroring Diane's pose. "So. What do we do now, before I run through my entire Serious quotient for the year?"
Diane hesitated, considering her options.
"I…" she stopped, and decided to go for blunt. "There're still going to be some things I can't tell you. But I'll ask, for both of you. We'll need all the medics we can get, for one thing." Well, I've already asked about Carys, but you don't need to know that. She looked around, and sighed. "This might take a while."
"One thing I've got right now, is time."
That might not be so accurate when I've finished. Diane took a careful breath and began to explain.
Some of it, anyway.
It was a little strange, not following the so-familiar route through Thorne's corridors to the infirmary. Diane paused for a moment, re-adjusting the satchel crammed under her arm. Obviously they'd had to be moved, everyone who could be, had been, but… Another little thing, another silent tick in the countdown.
So, melodrama aside, then -
She took the twisting flight of stairs carefully downward, glaring at the steps themselves as she did so. She was fairly sure the height of each one was more variable than standard. The stairs ended abruptly in a flare of narrow wooden doorways and Diane knocked sharply on the nearest. A moment later the wood pulled back, revealing Dave Stoker's big - and oddly serious - face.
He shook his head solemnly.
"Sorry, we don't buy door-to-door."
"Funny." Diane stepped past, as his expression became a grin and he stood back. The internal dimensions of the room beyond didn't match what the exterior had suggested, but that was hardly unusual. Sparsely furnished, the bed with that slightly melted look that a hasty transfiguration alteration would give furniture; a small enchanted window in the far wall leaked fading sunlight into the room, tingeing it gold.
As Diane entered, the room's other occupant looked up from where she was warily balancing a kettle on a jar of bluish flame, and smiled.
"Hello stranger!" Carys stood up and crossed the small room quickly, catching Diane in a swift hug before she could even put her bag down. After a moment, and before Di could start to squirm, her aunt stepped back and looked her up and down.
"How've you been, Di? We haven't seen hide nor hair of you for ages. You'll be keeping yourself busy?"
Diane smiled carefully in what she hoped was a casual way.
"Oh, you know. Things to do, mostly with Fred and G - " she stopped and shot a quick glare over her shoulder. That had been a definite snigger from Dave's direction, but her uncle merely held up a mug, placatingly.
"Still drink it abominably?"
"Not wanting seventy-percent milk is not abominably." Di moved over to the bed and sat down, surprised when it didn't creak. She began to rummage around in the bag, and glanced up as she did so.
"How are things with you two?" she asked, meeting Dave's glance with silent agreement: 'I won't mention the ghost taunting if you don't. If Carys saw the look, she ignored it.
"Not bad, all things." The older woman picked up the kettle and shook it gently. "Needs a refill. Let's see if that tap's still where I left it."
Diane's hand dropped to her wand, but before she could offer an augmenti Carys had shut the door behind her. Di blinked.
"I could've - "
"Yeah, we know." Dave jerked a thumb towards the door. "That's your aunt practicing the lost art of Subtlety." He sat down and Di felt worry start to knot in her stomach as his expression went serious again. It was always strange to see anything other than the typical grin framed by those awful sideburns. She shifted uncomfortably, but before she could think of a way to better phrase: 'what on earth are you talking about?', Dave leaned back, folding his hands on his stomach, and looked hard at her.
"So, how d'you want to play this? Straight answers, or filling the gaps?"
Diane's heart sank. There was a faint chance this would be about the hospital -
"A-nd you have chosen door number two." Dave held up a hand, cutting off the start of her protest. "We have: One hideout manor in the backside of nowhere, oddly full of medical professionals and long-term patients, despite never having been heard of before by anyone. So soon after a major incident at the big wizard hospital.
"Hidden schooling with a lot of old students hanging around, and they don't seem too-passive people. Pastimes that look very much like something cadets get up to. And I gotta admit, the radio here's a damn sight more interesting than what the Beeb cooks up." Dave stopped exaggeratedly counting on his fingers and looked up, one thick eyebrow raised. "Did I miss anything? Or shall we add 'my niece, who's never so much shown interest in the phaser replicas, now apparently spends her time making weaponry'. Quite a hobby-shift from books to munitions, Di, I - "
"You're complaining?" Diane was surprised at the venom in her own voice, but suddenly she was angry. She was not going to sit here and be sarcastically interrogated at, and definitely not for this. "If it wasn't for my 'hobby' - as you so accurately put it - " she snapped " - we wouldn't be talking now. You think I'm keeping things from you? Yes. I am. A hundred things, and you wouldn't understand any of them, so back off!"
She stood up and stepped round the bed, but suddenly Dave was in front of her, blocking her path to the door. He was taller than her, but not by much in her boots, and the dark stares locked. There was the start of anger in his eyes, too.
"No. Why wouldn't I understand? Too wizardly for the family's mundane sheep?"
"You know what? Yes," Diane shot back, her cheeks flaring hotly. "Even if I told you, what could you do? I'm sorry you got involved in all this, but it's not your war - " she cut off, her voice failing as Dave's jaw dropped, his eyes wide in disbelief.
"Not my…" he trailed off, staring as if she'd just sprouted an extra head.
Whatever Diane had expected to break the moment, it hadn't been laughter. Dave leaned his head back and sat down against the door, chortling mirthlessly at the ceiling. Diane hesitated, a faint edge of panic rising. This wasn't normal, was it? She hadn't visited the Stokers recently - before all this, anyway - true, and maybe the hex effects hadn't completely worn off… Instinctively inching her hand towards her wand, she dropped into a crouch, slightly further back than pure familial concern would have dictated. Before she could speak, though, the laughter stopped. Dave looked at her, almost through her, and when he spoke there was a strange edge to his voice.
"Y'know how old I was the last time this happened?" He flicked a hand across her, gesturing head-to-toe. "Bit younger'n you, and not such a fine example of academic prowess, of course. Well-into the 'rebel without a cause' bit."
"Wand," Diane found herself automatically correcting their joke. Dave shrugged.
"Both. Family divided and all that. Be nice to say it was all about me, but I wasn't that vain even then."
Diane blinked.
"What are you -?"
"'Purity' of blood," Dave snapped, then rolled his eyes. "Hell, don't look so surprised I know the lingo. Still, it wasn't my war at the start, I was quite sure. Squibs don't count, anyway, so why should I give a damn about the inbreeding-themed squabbles of a society I'd stormed out of about the time I hit tenor?" He stopped again, tapping an idle beat on the tiled floor. "Was the newspapers first. I mean, they never get it right - " the other hand brushed unconsciously across his chest " - but you read between the lines, y'know? Easy to flip the page, change the channel, but when it's every page? When every bulletin's another coded misinterpretation?"
He laughed quietly again, shaking his head. "When everyone's talking about it, getting it wrong, and you can't tell them. An explanation right out of Tolkein'd wash about as well as today. But it's not your war, right? Not when it's in your news, in your town if you know the right streets. Or when you're suddenly down an aunt, a cousin or two, and it takes an awkward slip at the funeral for you to find out it was at each other's wands."
Ice rippled down Diane's spine.
"I didn't know that," she muttered. Dave shrugged.
"Look 'em up if you like. Robert, Agatha, Merriot, although god-knows who stood which way."
Diane shifted uncomfortably. This really wasn't how she'd expected… anything to go. Serious Dave Stoker was a new and confusing prospect. She tried to collect her thoughts.
"Look, I didn't mean… I mean, He Who… It's important for everyone, if we don't, well, win, then it's not just wizards that'll - " she stopped, and glanced away, swallowing the start of a stammer. "I just… I don't want you to get hurt again. I can't protect y - "
"Hey." The word was almost a growl and Diane jumped, turning back to meet a surprisingly angry glare. Dave scowled, first at her and then at the wand at her side.
"Protection. You… the hell, Di." He stood up abruptly, glared at her, and started to pace the room. Diane gave a half-growled grunt of frustration, balling her free hand as she stood up and span round to face the pacing figure.
"What? What did I say this time?"
"For the love of - " Dave dragged a hand through his hair, sending a few of the more lively curls striking out for freedom. "Look. Thank you, for coming to find us in Guilford, and… without the counter-curses here, I know Carys probably wouldn't have -" He stopped and span round to face her, anger etched on his face.
"You came through for us, and I will be grateful forever. But I do not need your protection! Bloody hell, Diane, I'm not a child, I'm not helpless and I'm not stupid. Why d'you think I get the rag that is the Prophet, or that mad Quibbler? Why d'you think I've been the big clown down the Diagon or Avalane pubs? You've gone into hiding, ask me for ballistics gel and medical supplies; you've been in hacked radio broadcasts talking about ending the war, speaking alongside that Potter lad, and every one of you talk like you're gearing up for bloody Ragnarock itself!" Dave stopped, breathing heavily, and shook his head.
"I won't be useless in here. Just because some robed lunatic decided to see what colour my guts are doesn't mean I'm going to sit back and watch this time. The very, very last thing I want is to be the awkward bugger crammed into a hired suit at your funeral. I will decide if a war is mine, and frankly I was 'involved in all this' a long time before I got the new scars."
Silence fell. Somewhere behind the rest of her reeling mind, a small part of Diane's brain noted that she'd never seen Dave show so much of her mother's steel.
He was right, though. The thought came as a bit of a shock. She'd become so used to thinking of Dave Stoker as an amicable idiot…
He attacked two wizards. And he's faced a damn sight more Dark magic than you ever have, Di. Rainbow haircuts don't quite cut it, do they…?
She slid her wand back into her belt. The words were hard to summon.
"I… I'm sorry. I… forget, sometimes, that - "
"I'm not quite a stupid as I act?" A hint of a grin reached Dave's face, and his expression softened slightly. Some of the tension leaked out of the air, and Diane rolled her eyes.
"Yes. Although you do a very good act."
"I try." Dave folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, mirroring Diane's pose. "So. What do we do now, before I run through my entire Serious quotient for the year?"
Diane hesitated, considering her options.
"I…" she stopped, and decided to go for blunt. "There're still going to be some things I can't tell you. But I'll ask, for both of you. We'll need all the medics we can get, for one thing." Well, I've already asked about Carys, but you don't need to know that. She looked around, and sighed. "This might take a while."
"One thing I've got right now, is time."
That might not be so accurate when I've finished. Diane took a careful breath and began to explain.
Some of it, anyway.