Estrella's Home

[Tristan Drage]

On an eerily still night, a man staggered up the lane of an old Muggle Farmhouse, it’s white paint beginning to split and crack, his robes whipping about his body as he walked. Since it was just after dinnertime, the lights in the pristine little house were still on, bright sentinels against the darkness. Purposefully he strode up to the door, knocking on it with a strong hand and pulling back his hood, revealing a scarred face, taut with determination and helmeted by dark hair the swept to his shoulders.

The scrawny boy who opened the door was taken aback, his spectacled blue eyes reflecting wonder at the odd appearance of the stranger. After a moment of silence, the man growled, “Carlisle. I need to speak to him immediately.”

Nodding and pushing up his glasses, the boy turned to another room, bellowing, “Dad! There’s someone here to talk to you!”

The boy had left the door slightly ajar, and the stranger could hear the grunts about salespeople from inside the house. When the stout, chubby man answered the door, however, he yelped in surprise, at a loss for words. The dark man strode into the blue-tiled kitchen without invitation, making himself at home as he pulled up a chair, his piercing gaze intent on the fat man.

 

[Carl Bennett]

For a moment there was silence, and then Carlisle stammered, “T-Tristan! Th-this is unexpected. I thought you were dead!”

 

[Tristan Drage]

“So did everyone else,” Tristan Drage drawled in a bored tone. His eyes flashed to a woman that had entered the room, toting a plump baby boy in her arms.

“Hello, can I offer you something to drink?” she asked him in her hostess manner that she had acquired from having Pampered Chef parties.

“Thank you, but I can get it myself,” Tristan replied. With a flick of his willow wand he opened and closed the kitchen cabinets until he found a plastic cup, which he levitated through the air and to his sitting place. All of the muggles in the room watched him in wonder. Carlisle and his wife had seen him perform magic eons ago, but their lanky son was new to it. Pointing his wand at the cup, Tristan muttered, “Aguamenti,” and it was filled by a stream of pure water. As he took a long draught, he stared at Carlisle with weary eyes. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” he snapped coldly.

 

[Carl Bennett]

“Well, excuse me, but you’ve only been missing for ten years and suddenly here you are, as if nothing had happened! Where in the hell were you all those years, Tristan?”

 

[Tristan Drage]

“Where I was is of no consequence,” Tristan replied, taking another sip of water. “However, the matter of which I am here is of much.” He pricked his ears as he listened to movement on the floor above, and then the echoing laughter of two girls.

 

[Carl Bennett]

“And what is the matter, Tristan?” Carlisle replied not too warmly. The man sitting at the table had changed a great deal, and even Carlisle as a muggle could feel the shroud of darkness around him like annoying insects.

 

[Tristan Drage]

Tristan drained his cup, and brought it down with a thud upon the table. “I’m here to take my daughter back to Britain, Carlisle. Where is she?” he demanded urgently.

 

[Carl Bennett]

Carlisle’s tone darkened along with the reddening of his face. “She doesn’t go to school in London. And the ministry told me specifically to keep her here, as I am now her guardian.”

 

[Tristan Drage]

“To hell with the Ministry!” Tristan hissed. “And what do you mean? My girl goes to Hogwarts, doesn’t she?” His face was livid. With anger he thought, If they had kept her in a muggle school..

 

[Carl Bennett]

“She goes to Hogwarts. But in New Zealand, not in Britain. It’s a different branch.”

 

[Tristan Drage]

“Then I will bring her there when her lessons begin. For too long has she lived with muggles."

 

[Carl Bennett]

“If you don’t remember, Tristan,” Carlisle seethed, “Your own wife was a so-called muggle. And besides, your daughter has a friend over.”

 

[Tristan Drage]

“If her friend is a witch, I will bring her home promptly,” Tristan replied.

 

[Carl Bennett]

“No, I cannot-” Carlisle stammered, cut off as Tristan’s wand was pointed at his throat.

 

[Tristan Drage]

“Call for her now.” He held the wand straight out, unwavering.

 

[Carl Bennett]

Carlisle’s wife walked quickly out of the room, determined to protect her baby, and unbeknownst to the others, call the police. She wanted her son to follow her too, but he remained in place with his dad.
“Alright!” Carlisle exclaimed with fear coating his voice. “Just put that- that magic stick away!” Trembling as he turned, he called up the staircase shakily, “Estrella, dear, please come downstairs!”

 

[Estrella Drage]

The sound of a door creaking shut reached their ears, along with the giggles of two teenage girls. As she reached the bottom of the staircase, she asked her uncle absentmindedly, “What is-” She halted, her jaw dropping along with her box of Bertie Bott’s, spilling over the stairs like rice at a wedding.

 

[Tristan Drage]

Tristan smiled reassuringly at his shocked daughter, the silence deafening to the ears of all. Breaking it, he greeted quietly, “Hi, ‘strella.”

 

[Estrella Drage]

“Dad?” Estrella replied weakly, her question lingering on the air.

 

[Tristan Drage]

“Yes, ‘strella. I’m here to take you home. And who is your friend here?”

 

[Elizabeth Malfoy]

Liz examined Estrella's expression before answering. Was she just confused... or scared? Liz didn't know for sure.

"Elizabeth Malfoy" she said, politely. She was having difficulty making eye contact with him, and instead looked at the every flavored beans on the floor.

 

[Tristan Drage]

Tristan's eyes flared in recognition of the girl's last name, but he attempted to conceal it afterwards. Smiling at his daughter, he inquired with an air of interest, "So, 'strella, what house are you in?"

 

[Estrella Drage]

"R-Ravenclaw," Estrella stammered, her jaw still slightly hung in shock.

 

[Tristan Drage]

Tristan beamed at her. "Just like your old man, then."

 

[Estrella Drage]

Estrella was pulled in a never-ending contest between too sides. She didn't know whether to run and embrace the father that she hadn't seen for ten years, in which he hadn't explained anything, or to stand back. The sugar sweet coating that he presented over the dark aura of his nature was sickly, like pouring chocolate over a particulary nasty vegetable. The two just didn't mix. She didn't know what to say, and Liz was just as confused as her.