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Rustle’s scream made him leap from his chair and draw his wand reflexively before he took stock of his surroundings. It had come from upstairs, on a relatively peaceful Sunday. Elixa had gone out to take a break from the books; he had fallen asleep in his armchair, lulled into drowsiness by the warm fire and the cosy smell of home.

Arc dashed upstairs as fast as he could, near tripping over the final few steps at the top and burst into his bedroom.

“I know your kneazle doesn’t like me,” said the witch, turning from the window, “but at least he could stand to warn you properly instead of yelling at me. I have to commend you on having a feline who would protect you over saving his own skin.”

He’s family and you’re not, said the voice derisively in his head, but he did not deign to give her a reply. Rustle was standing on his bed, bristled and puffed up as he stared menacingly at her.

“He thinks you’re not someone to be trusted,” he said. “At this rate, I trust him more than I trust you.”

The witch inspected her manicured nails. Large hands, he couldn’t help observing. “I wouldn’t blame you, either. So, how’s the depression going?”

This earned her a nasty glare from the healer. “I’ll give you credit - when you’re angry, the look on your face says exactly how you feel.” She dropped her hand to her side. “Do you not see yet how much you need to let it all out? Have you started work on that?”

“Absolutely what I do with my own needs has nothing to do with you,” said Arc, his voice dropping to a low growl. There was no one alive in the world right now who’d ever seen this side of him before, and he was well aware of that. He was well aware of everything. “This isn’t some safehouse for you--”

“This was never a safehouse for me, dear. In fact, this would make a poor safehouse. I see you’ve improved on the wards… but they are still standard fare. Don’t bother,” she added, seeing his face darken. “I’ve broken into places with much more complex defence wards. You’re wasting your time.”

“What,” Arc snapped, “do you want this time?”

The woman took a step away from him, looking injured at how sharp he was being. “You wound me, Arcturus. I’m just looking out for you. Do you do this to all your friends as well?” Do they put up with it? It was a question that hung delicately in the air, masterfully implied in her tone of voice.

The healer was not appreciative of it. “I will repeat this one more time,” he said. “What do you want this time? And if you deflect again, I will not spare you one ounce of effort in immediately removing you from my home. You may be better at it, but I will try.”

“I don’t doubt you one bit,” she said, raising her eyebrows as she glanced down at the windowsill beside her. “Because you’ve frozen shut the window right next to me. Well, you are a water-aspected person… and I do owe you an answer. I’m here to check up on you, dear. Making sure you haven’t lost your head yet.”

When he spoke next, there was a certain stiffness to his tone that suggested impending danger if she dared push it. “I am a Healer. We don’t lose our heads. I don’t need someone checking up on me, I’ve well outgrown that. It’s as if you’re acting like my mother.”

“Hardly.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be a mother, and I couldn’t if I tried. Too messed up to guide a child by example. They are too impressionable, too innocent… I would destroy their lives before they even got to go to Hogwarts. But I did say we were family, Arcturus, and Hollingburys look out for Hollingburys. That’s just a fact.”

“Until my father officially states you are on the family roster, you are not a Hollingbury.” Arc raised his wand, pointing it directly at her. His anger got the better of him for a brief moment, and he hissed the next statement in condescending venom. “That’s just a fact.”

She took a step back in clear shock - not even feigned, it was clear his words had struck a nerve. In the silence as they stared at each other, the atmosphere more than made up what was left unspoken.

“I see,” she said at last. “Well, there’s no convincing you then. You’re right.” She lowered her gaze, but only for a moment - it was there, then gone again. A familiar sight - to him - of words taken harder than they should have been. “I’ll take my leave, but I know that you can’t deny the truth of my words. Not with an anger seething like that.” She sighed. “Do me a favour - don’t let it consume you. I don’t want to see you destroy yourself from within. And… given I think I know what you’re going to do next, let him know that Madame le Fay visited you.”

He’d barely blinked. She’d disappeared in that split second, with absolutely no indication of the magical method used. Mistrust made him stay frozen for a few seconds longer, before he relaxed from his stiff duelling stance and release the breath he’d been holding. His kneazle wasn’t a large ball of fur now; just watching the window, alert but not terrified and on the defensive.

Even though it had felt as if he’d stepped over some sacred border that he himself had sworn never to cross, he was more caught up with how she’d known what he was doing next. He’d planned it, but never said it aloud. Wasn’t written in his journal. It had been in his head. Was she a Legilimens? Or had a companion that was one, assisting her in her spying endeavours?
Whatever it was, he was troubled. Deeply, by that intensely red-hot wrath he had felt in that one moment of confrontation. Greatly, by her knowing his next step in finding out more about her.

He looked at the window, where the frost was beginning to vanish as if it had never been there.

Thursday was a free day, wasn’t it? His insides churned at the thought of him stepping into the one place he’d avoided since his sister’s death. But he wasn’t going to ruin his family’s one day of peace.

Sorry, Dad?

It didn’t make him feel any better.

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