Moira's Cottage
7:04 pm

January 9th, the night of the full moon, as predicted had been an awful evening for young Moira McBoid. However, it was not in any way she had thought. The horror had come in the form of a high fever, following her day of the snuffles, that more or less kept her bed bound. Her appetite (and magic) vanished and all she wanted to do was sleep.

Her dad and Duncan had made sure she was set up in solitary confinement in her own cottage, to help make sure they didn’t catch the contagion. They checked on her intermittently, making sure she was still alive, but otherwise she was alone.

An owl pecking at the window that evening awoke Moira from where she lay on the cold wooden floor. She must have crawled there while she was sleeping. Pushing herself up she opened the window to let the owl in and shivered, shutting the window again.

The letter was from Fauna, who had heard she was ill. Moira shook her head lightly, figuring she had got it from her former dorm mate in the first place. At first she considered ignoring it and dealing with it later. The thought of soup made her stomach rumble, however. It had been over two days since she last ate anything.

Grabbing a blanket to wrap herself in Moira padded through the house to find some parchment, pausing long enough to give the owl a treat. She considered making her own soup, but not having magic made the task seem more daunting than usual because even standing still took effort.

Once she managed to write the letter and send the owl off the magicless wix sank down into her new couch with a sigh. A couple minutes later and the owl was back. After a few more letters it was decided that Fauna would be visiting shortly. With soup.

As predicted, the week of the full moon had dumped a bucket of shitty new horrors and crimes atop the Ministry's doorstep. It stunk. Fauna hadn't had a good night's rest since Virgil's portentous owl. She'd started to get her magic back a few days ago, only to watch it slip away with the rest of her sanity as the week wore on. Get some rest, the Healers said. But how?

Fauna wasn't the only one miserable this week. She understood that. She told herself that, when Abby had mentioned that Moira had come down with a nasty bug. Poor Moira, Fauna had thought, and then promptly forgotten about her for the rest of the day until Abby had clarified. No, not just any bug. A flu. A coughing, hacking, inconvenient kind of flu.

Ugh, Fauna had groaned. But is it the measles? The no-magic measles? You know Moira, Abby had said. You try getting an answer out of her.

So Fauna would try. She'd try this evening (if only to alleviate her guilt). She'd brought two containers of soup, one in a plastic bag and the other secured in paper. One she was absolutely certain was tomato soup, and the other she hoped was pho. It looked like udon. She suspected udon. Thicker noodles. Slightly darker broth. Oh Merlin, had they given her udon?! Why hadn't she asked?

In her red jacket, with the two takeaway bags and a whole ball of stress, Fauna floo'd to Moira's family home in Scotland.

She popped out into the living room, wrinkled her nose at the floo powder, and let out a huge sneeze.

"Oh shite! Bless me! I mean excuse me! Hi, it's Fauna," she announced into the darkened room.

Wait. Moira was in another cottage. Wasn't she?

The evening was quiet. Duncan stood in the kitchen, making himself a couple sandwiches after having his share of the farm work done. He didn't feel like making anything extravagant. Normally Moira would have had dinner made by now, if she arrived home from work on time, but with her being sick that wasn't an option.

Moira rarely got sick. If she did the teenager would ignore the needed rest and work through it, accepting no help because she didn't want to be a burden. Seeing her like this was worrisome. According to the paper and healers, though, there was nothing to do but wait it out. Duncan hated waiting.

The fireplace activated suddenly, spitting someone out who promptly sneezed and in an unfamiliar voice announced that her name was Fauna. Peeking his head around the wall he confirmed that it was a young lass, probably hadn't been out of Hogwarts for more than a few years.

"Hi, Fauna. I'm Duncan. You a friend of Moira's then? You sound like you're expected, aye?" he asked as he continued making his sandwiches. If so, that meant Moira was awake finally. Always good news. Maybe that meant the worst of it, aside from being unable to use magic, was drawing to a close.

Fauna jumped about a foot in the air, tightening her grip on the two takeaway bags.

Oh gosh, there was a bloke in the kitchen. She didn't know why that startled her, but was glad her hands were occupied, as she had a bad habit of hexing strange blokes in kitchens. Of course, it was his own kitchen. In his own house. Scottish accent and all.

"Er, hi!" Fauna smiled bashfully, stepping through the darkened living room to stand in the doorway of the kitchen. She glanced up. And up. A tall man stood at the counter, putting together a few sandwiches, seemingly unperturbed by her dropping in. He was rather handsome - she didn't know why that startled her, but it did. She just didn't expect her friends' older relatives to have attractive faces, but so many did. It made things awkward.

"Hi... Duncan, nice to meet you." She maneuvered the two bags to one hand and reached out to shake his hand.

"Abby told me that Moira wasn't feeling well, so I thought I'd owl and ask her if she wanted some soup." She glanced at the sandwiches, curious if those were also for Moira. She hoped he hadn't interrupted his efforts. "Pho soup and tomato, turns out."

Duncan. Who was Duncan? She who was terrible with names couldn't recall the family connections. She knew of Iona McBoid, through Abby's experience, but didn't know Moira quite well enough to remember more than the fact that she lived on her father's land.

"Are you uh, Moira's dad?" Fauna raised a sheepish eyebrow.

The young witch was a jumpy little thing, but Duncan supposed he couldn’t blame her. Strange dimly lit house with an unexpected person. It was just like his niece to not give out any information regarding the family or even what to expect. Often he had a hard time getting anything out of her as well. She played her cards very close to her chest.


When she asked if he was Moira’s dad he Duncan gave a good natured laugh. “No, I’m her uncle.” The more interesting and ‘cooler’ one of the two brothers in his humble opinion. It was true enough though that he had helped raise her.

“Well, I’m glad she’s finally awake. Every time we’ve checked on her the past two days she’s been asleep with no appetite.” The Scotsman glanced thoughtfully at the takeout bags. “I hope she can stomach those okay.” Moira was undoubtedly hungry but illnesses could be terribly cruel.

Finishing up in the kitchen Duncan offered Fauna another smile. “Would you like for me to show you the way to her cabin? We don’t have pathways and even with a light it’s easy to get lost in the dark.” Maneuvering over the uneven ground had a way of making small adjustments to one’s walking direction.

At her agreement he created a barrier around his stack of sandwiches, just in case. Angus could make his own food. “Alright then, lass. This way.” He held the door open for her before heading out, pausing long enough to ask, “Oh, sorry. I'm accustomed to the area. If you need a light I can cast one.” He didn’t mind and her hands were full.

Moira's uncle! Fauna grimace-smiled, glad for his easy laughter. She wondered if Duncan lived here full-time or if he just dropped in to raid the fridge and check on his stubborn niece. Her smile faded - Moira sounded truly ill! Nothing else would keep her bedridden. Fauna glanced down at her takeaway bags warily. They had better not make Moira sicker.

"Oh," Fauna raised her eyebrows at his offer. "Oh sure, thank you. If it's not any trouble," she nodded, studying his face to make sure. Easy laughter, gregarious nature.

While Fauna was certain she could find a cottage nearby on open land, he could be offering as much for his own peace of mind as he was hers. This was family land. Their home extended beyond the walls of this house. She could just imagine clomping about in her Auror boots and disturbing the farm animals, or worse, a pile of manure.

Fauna blinked for a long moment at the barrier the wizard casted around the plate of sandwiches. Not for his niece, then! Perhaps he had a cat or dog prone to jumping on counters and stealing food. The house was quiet as they headed to the front door. He had told her more in two sentences than Moira might ever deign to tell her. Were they really related?

They stepped out into the dark, chilly night, and Fauna paused on the front step, glancing around at the farmland. It had been a while since she'd been out in the countryside like this, where the night was not chased away by streetlamps and lit windows and glowing wands. The waning moon looked down on them. Fauna looked up at it, noting its slightly oblong shape, reminding herself that the full moon was past and had made its trouble this month. The stars speckled brightly in the vast sky, and Fauna took comfort from them too, the precise points mapping the heavens.

She rubbed at the back of her neck, her heart rate calming. What had Duncan said? He was offering to light the way.

"Let me try," Fauna smiled, holding the two takeaway bags in one hand. She withdrew her wand from her pocket.

Lumos!

A precise point of light lit the end of her wand, illuminating the ground several feet around them. As Fauna stepped forward, her eyes on her wand, the light blinked out.

"For Merlin's sake!" Her face flushed. Fauna gave her wand a shake.

"I promise I'm not contagious," she said hastily, turning to Duncan. "It's just slowly coming back in fits and spurts."

Still wearing his coat from before, the cold air that met them both wasn't too chilling for the Scotsman. The stars were clear and though the moon cast light on everything the ground could still be treacherous. Not to mention the rocks scattered around parts of the land. The rocks could have been easily cleared out a long time ago but Duncan and his brother agreed everything looked better left alone.

For a moment Fauna's wand tip glowed bright, then fizzled out back to dark. He was glad to hear she wasn't contagious anymore and he grinned, “Better slow than never though, aye?” Tugging his wand out from his robes again he gave it a wave before a ball of light appeared before them. With a satisfied nod he put his wand away again.

“This way’s the shortest route, but I warn you the footing isn’t always easy.” When Duncan was sure the witch was following him he took the ‘path’ around the back of the house and away from it.

“I take it the two of you know each other from school?" He didn't think they were colleagues. She seemed able but didn't give off a ranch worker vibe. Moira had never mentioned her before, but then again she almost never mentioned anyone. She seemed to take after his own father in that regard. He liked keeping things private too.

Along the way they passed by a small fenced in area where the lonely tree protected Genie’s grave. Having passed it so often over the years he didn't pay much attention to it. He also didn't think it might attract the curiosity of their guest.

Fauna smiled mildly, not put off by his warning. She had super buff Auror skills, but he didn't know that. She followed Duncan about a step behind, watching and matching where his footsteps fell on the uneven ground. To her, it seemed he neither lengthened his stride obnoxiously nor shortened it insultingly, but walked at an easy, casual pace, letting the light bob a little ahead of them.

"Sort of," Fauna replied, holding back a chuckle. "We're both Hufflepuffs."

Had he been a Hufflepuff too, whenever that had been?

"We didn't really know each other well in school though. I'm a few years older and was, uh, a bit shy."

She didn't mention that Moira was quiet. He knew!

"But it seems like our whole group gets along better now that we're done with school," Fauna went on. "You know? It matters less if you were a prefect or a Quidditch player or hid in the hospital hut. We've just started running into each other at parties and such."

Coffee shops and aquariums, mostly.

As they continued walking, the light skipped past a large shape looming nearby, and Fauna turned her head, expecting to find a bunch of goats bleating at her (she blamed Abby). She glimpsed a lone tree and a stone jutting underneath it.

Oh. Fauna peered at it between the pickets of the fence. It looked like a gravestone.

Still looking to the side, Fauna's foot slipped against a rock and she stumbled forward.

"Oh sh-"

The Scotsman listened patiently as she explained how she and Moira knew each other. It didn’t sound like they were friends exactly but if his niece was comfortable enough inviting the other witch over that was a good sign. Even better that Fauna agreed to come. Of course, it was more likely their guest had offered and Moira had agreed. He couldn’t recall the last time she had invited someone over aside from that Pepper boy, but that had been for a foaling and not just to hang out.

“Aye, I know.” Getting out of school had been much the same for him. Being in the real world you soon discovered how little things like class status and grades actually mattered. House Points were designed to create camaraderie and friendly rivalry, though that didn’t always work.

Duncan glanced back hearing her beginnings of an exclamation. Reacting before he fully processed what was happening he reached out his hand and caught her by the arm, supporting her until she had her feet under her again. “Are you alright?” Fauna’s face was flushed but she appeared to be unharmed.

He let go of the witch’s arm once he was certain she was steady again.

"Thank you," Fauna laughed a little, face flushed with embarrassment at her almost-faceplant and Duncan's reflexes. For Merlin's sake! Who would believe she was an Auror in training! Her laughter slowly faded as she remembered the reason she'd stumbled. The grave they'd just passed by. Must belong to the family. Was it recent?

Her mouth tugged down at the corners. She only knew of one recent death, if it could be called that.

Iona McBoid's.

She willed herself not to look back at it, to keep her gaze ahead. Her eyes were full of questions when she glanced at Duncan, but she let the moment pass, consideration winning out over curiosity.

As they continued walking, Fauna's mind wandering yet again, she recalled that she'd only ever heard of this place as the McBoid farm, the McBoid land. Moira's father's farm. Not Moira's mother's.

Fauna nudged a rock aside and cleared her throat softly. "Have you lived here for... Er, I mean, do you work here as well?"

A step behind him, she scrunched her nose at her awkwardly phrased question.

The grass crunched under their feet, several loose stones shifting to settle more firmly in the dirt.  So far it had been a very mild winter compared to previous years, even with the air holding the hint of a possibility for overnight frost. The Scotsman wouldn’t complain. Even frost sometimes captured a feeling of something new and refreshing.

Duncan glanced back Fauna without pausing or slowing his stride. He nodded in confirmation, "Aye. I've worked and lived here for the past thirteen years." When he wasn't traveling doing his 'other' job anyway. He enjoyed working with the horses and being part of his brother's life. All of it was just a little too tame for him.

He looked ahead again then asked with genuine curiosity, "If you don't mind my asking, what is it that you do?" Some people, like his niece, were suspicious by nature and unlikely to share even their career. Still, it never hurt to ask and was a friendly enough question.

He had lived and worked here for thirteen years. She blinked in surprise at his back, guessing Moira's age and mentally calculating the years. Moira would have been around five years old at the time he'd moved in. She glanced at him, considering his build, his smiles, his friendly way of talking. He seemed like the type of person who would have a full and happy life on the farm as well as off of it, plenty of friends, lots of opportunity to see the world if he chose. Maybe he had, maybe he did. Yet he remained here, grounded by family on a remote, rural farm.

She had heard the thoughtful concern in his voice earlier, when he'd worried whether Moira would be able to keep the soup down. He'd asked Fauna the sorts of gently inquisitive questions that parents asked their kid's friends all the time.

She nodded to herself, filing away the information in the back of her mind. Another piece of the McBoid puzzle. She liked people, she liked to understand people, and off the job, it was as simple as that.

If she could ever stop thinking about her job.

"Not at all," Fauna smiled at his politeness.

"I'm an Auror in training," she said with a touch of pride and breathless impatience. She was almost a red-robed, full-fledged, badge-flashing, wand-firing Auror. "It's my last year in training, actually. Watch out, world. Watch out, me," she dodged another rock on the ground.

"It's how I know, uh," she hesitated. About the McBoid's recent loss. "Everyone on Level Two."

Level Four as well, these days.

“An auror? That’s quite the noble profession.” While Duncan didn’t trust the Ministry as a whole, he felt most of the people who worked there were good. Sometimes you just never knew who was secretly plotting evil things.

The red robes certainly had a hard time of it investigating murders, other crimes, and so on. Aurors were always such, even when they weren’t working. It could be a problem if he wasn’t careful but overall it was a good thing. Otherwise their ethics would have to be questioned and chaos would rule the streets.

“I worked in the Beast division myself for fourteen years before I moved here.” He didn’t mention that the war was going on when he left or that he joined the Resistance. Fauna seemed to be a clever witch. Had to be if she made it to the final year of Auror training. She could probably figure that part herself.

The main house faded from view behind them. For a moment there was nothing to indicate anything civilized in the area. Naturally the isolation was the biggest factor in his niece choosing the location. Soon Moira’s cottage came into view with a particular Aethonan mare and colt grazing and hanging out near the cabin. “That’s it, up ahead.”

Fauna paused, gauging his tone as sincere. She murmured a thank you. Noble! She didn't know how noble it was, dodging danger and ducking from towering case files, but she liked to believe that the law meant something and that she did more good than harm.

Thirteen years ago, Duncan had worked at the Ministry for over a decade. The Beast Division didn't surprise her, but the Ministry affiliation did. She raised her eyebrows at his back.

What was thirteen years ago? Not Iona. Iona had died more than twenty years ago. Moira had been five. Fauna had been...

Oh.

He had left around the time of the second war and Voldemort's takeover at the Ministry. Fauna nodded to herself. The McBoids were pureblood, weren't they? It was hard to see them as such. Duncan must have wanted out of that horrible environment, like so many others who had left or been forced to leave. Even now, whenever Fauna stepped inside the Ministry, she felt the effects from fifteen years ago. The turnover in the Ministry system. The lack of muggleborn employees older than thirty.

If Duncan harbored resentment, he hid it well.

"So you know the pain of long meetings, malfunctioning lifts, misdirected memos and reply-alls," she only said lightly. "Unless your work kept you out of the office, for the most part?"

The outline of a cabin greeted them in the dark. As the wand light bobbed ahead, two shapes moved near the side of the house. One large, one small. One let out a soft snuffle-snort.

Fauna turned her head at the sound of hooves stamping the ground. And a rustling noise, like wind through trees. She peered at the silhouetted shapes. Their backs fluttered.

Wings! The horses had wings.

"They're beautiful," she breathed, smiling at the sight.

The cold wind blew strands of her dark hair against her face, and the ground felt rocky and treacherous beneath her. She couldn't call this land peaceful, exactly, but it hid a wild, natural joy.

Duncan couldn't help but chuckle at her question. "Aye, my job kept me in the office as much as out of it. You'd be surprised how much paperwork a single, sick Occamy can generate."

That particular case had been quite a nightmare. The creature in question had been a gift of good will between people. When it showed signs of sickness a day later the recipient had felt extremely insulted. He demanded their division examine the creature to prove it had been intentional. The poor beastie just had an ill-timed cold and convincing him of it was no easy task.

Fortunately he didn't have to deal with such politics very much anymore. He certainly didn't have to be as nice about it either.

Hearing Fauna's appreciation for the horses he glanced back at her. "If you stay the night you'll be able to see them better in the morning. The colt was born in June." Duncan didn't know what the witch's schedule was like. If she had to go back home tonight he didn't want to go to bed before making sure she left okay.

He stopped once they were close enough to the cabin, the fire in the fireplace was emitting a glow through the windows that lit the 'yard' well enough. "I'll leave you to it, then," Duncan offered with a smile.