Carstairs Household, Maida Vale. 1730 hours.


It was an early dinner hour but a rare one, for Virgil and all his family were about to be sat at the round kitchen table for the first time in weeks. He had come straight from work after a quick change of clothes, and was helping his mother carve the roast chicken when his older sister Adelaide finally arrived. She was still in her formal attorney robes.

"Hey," she tousled his hair - Virgil slapped her hand away - before taking a seat, "I like the t-shirt. Where's dad?"

Their mother Angela glanced at the ceiling. A soft strain of piano music was playing overhead, followed by the sound of Edgar and young Cecil chatting amiably. Virgil brought the butchered roast to the table, then used his wand to send a thump! right through the upstairs floor. That was their cue to come down.

A few minutes later, and everyone finally managed to squeeze into the small kitchen. It was a cosy space; wooden counters, copper pans, a large woodfire oven. Their table overlooked a narrow back garden, which was still in the height of its summer bloom. Edgar sat between his wife and eldest son. Conversation was casual, drifting back to the subject of Stardust's Peter Pan. Virgil would have to leave quite soon if he wanted to warm-up before that night's performance. He tried to focus on that. It was better than thinking about work or Cepheus Gamp or Penny Pickler. This dinner was a good distraction.

            "You must be exhausted," Angela remarked as she passed him the gravy. "Only four more runs."
"I'm going to sleep for two days straight next weekend," he admitted, deadpan.
             "Isn't that what you do every weekend?" Cecil sniped and earned himself a light kick from his brother. "Oi!"

Virgil snorted, ready with a rejoinder, except-- he paused. Uncertain. The homely perfumes of rosemary and garlic and lemon peel, delicious scents, suddenly dissipated. He sniffed gingerly, putting down fork and knife. This was odd. He felt... felt a bit like he'd just taken a huge toke of gillyweed actually.

            "Virgil? What's the matter?" Edgar's concerned voice felt close.

"Can you smell that?" A lurid fragrance flooded his senses, freshly fallen leaves and the almost sweet, putrid ones underfoot in a forest. Country air like their summer house in Oxfordshire. He turned his head to look at his father but every face at the table was blurred; distorted funhouse reflections of themselves.

            "Smell what?" came Adelaide's voice, deep and cavernous and troll-like.

Somebody was touching his shoulder, grounding him. Virgil shut his eyes tightly. The last time he had felt this was during the kidnapping[1].

A face appeared before his closed eyelids... a girl, probably his age, shrouded by thick mist. She looked so familiar. She looked afraid.[2] And there was somebody else there... or something.... horses. No, unicorns. They were so bright in his mind's eye, practically glowing.

His mouth dropped open before he could stop himself.

"You were never going to make it!" A man's unpleasant voice rasped from Virgil's motionless lips, his eyes clouding over with white as he opened them. And then his gaze cleared. The smell of the summer forest disappeared. He was in the little kitchen in Maida Vale again. Late afternoon sunlight lit up the yellow walls and still-steaming dishes.

Everyone at the table stared. Virgil breathed out shakily and realised his father's hand was on his shoulder. Edgar squeezed reassuringly. They knew he had displayed signs of the Seer ability - he had told them after Maiko verified it in February. But none of his family had actually seen him have a vision.

"Have to go." Virgil pushed back his chair, flushing. "I'm fine-" he interjected, interrupting his mother before she could protest, "- I just need to check on something. I'll see you at Stardust!" This last bit he added with a glance at Edgar. The young thespian stole a last bite of the roast, distractedly, and then left the room so that he could apparate down to Diagon Alley. 

The other Carstairs stared after him. Cecil looked at his parents expectantly: "Do we have pudding tonight?"

1.	This Could be Hell, We Could be Dead - 14th Feb.
2.	A vision of Abby Reid in The Woods.

He didn't have a lot of time. The play would be starting soon. Virgil had burst into their flat in Diagon, barely paying attention to whether his flatmates were home. That face! That face in the vision, it was so bloody familiar! Where had he seen it? A topsy turvy search of his bedroom did nothing to turn up the book he'd been looking for, so he quickly popped out to see if Ariadne had her copy.

Luckily for him, she did. Because she was wonderful and nice and related to the most beautiful person in all the wo--- right, no, no time for that right now.

"Cheers," he mumbled and pecked her cheek, and then plopped himself down on a beanbag in the living room, already flipping through the pages. Being the yearbook photographer, Virgil had helped Gracie Slant organise most of it.  And he just knew he had seen that face somewhere in here.

Page after page of familiar, known countenances went by. He was beginning to doubt himself when he finally came upon a selection of photos from Hogwarts Summer Trips in past years - it was hard to miss. Right there, standing in the middle of a group photo in front of the Gaza pyramids[1], was the face from his vision. A happy looking blonde girl squeezed in between Professor Reid and Raine Almasy. Virgil studied the caption below, which named the people in the photo.

Abby Reid (Squib).

Ah. He remembered now. There had been talk about it, the year after. Professor Reid's squib sister had joined the trip. Virgil closed the yearbook and set it aside, losing some of his frantic energy. He checked the time. A quarter to seven. That was just enough time to send a quick owl.

He had little idea as to what had happened of Professor Reid after she left Hogwarts but if he owled the Runes department at the Museum, perhaps they would reply with a functional address by the time this evening's performance was over. Especially if he marked it urgent. He rose and went to fetch his owl, Odysseus.

Virgil wasn't sure if his vision was truly an urgent one. He just couldn't shake off that look on Abby Reid's face - a look that reminded him of how he had felt when he woke up on level nine with his friends, all those months ago. Nobody should feel like that.

1.	Egypt 2009