House of Rambolt

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James and Marilyn Rambolt

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Marilyn Rambolt grabbed another tissue from the box, sniffling into it. Her husband, James, walked into the room and scowled, first at the telly then at her. He plunked his fists on his hips. "Are you watching that movie again?"

"This is a different one." She sniffled, not glancing up from the sad scene.

James sighed heavily, then spotted her popcorn on the coffee table. He threw up his hands and sat down beside her, grabbing a handful. "I don't get it," he said while crunching the popcorn. "Why's that one crying?" He gestured toward the screen.

"Because her best friend is dying. Honestly James, we've been married decades and you can't tell me what my favorite movies are?" she huffed.

"I know ones about flowers and this ones about tomatoes," he offered, unoffended as he munched his way through the bowl.

She rolled her eyes. "That's Steel Magnolias and this is Fried Green Tomatoes."

James shrugged. "It makes women cry so I'm not interested."

Marilyn sighed and patted his hand. "I'd be worried if you were dear." She turned her attention back to the screen.

Something coming from their fireplace caught their attention.
 
Nicolas arrived in the fireplace of Cecily's parents house and was overwhelmed at first with relief as he saw he had reached the right place, he slipped his wand back in his cloak pocket and brushed the soot off of him before stepping out of the fireplace. He noted Cecily's parents and their concerned looks. "I apologize for the intrusion." Nicolas began with a slight bow toward them. He wasn't sure how to get to what he needed to say. He knew Cecily's mother wasn't always well and didn't want to worry the pair of Cecily wasn't there and was missing somewhere in the world. Instead of risking to speak first he stood there, concerned, and glancing about the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Cecily.
 
James patted his wife's leg, making sure she was tucked under her blanket still before rising. "Nicolas. Good to see you." He greeted the young man. He couldn't say he wasn't surprised to see him pop in. "Is my daughter coming?" He peered at the fireplace.
 
"I fear not." Nicolas started, worry escaping him and entering his voice. "Mr. Rambolt, could I speak to you in private a few moments?" Nicolas continued, figuring this the best way to go about this and then Cecily's father could break it to her mother as he pleased.
 
"Of course." He placed a kiss on his wife's head and paused to whisper in her ear. She seemed to relax and went back to her movie as best she could.

James led Nicolas into his study. It was a mixture of dark woods and old world nautical themes. He gestured for him to take a seat on one of the large leather chairs situated in front of the windows. He took one for himself.

Not wasting any time, he came straight out with it. "Where's my daughter?"
 
Nicolas chose not to sit, he didn't want to become comfortable. He didn't feel he should be welcomed in the house, let alone to sit. Not after what he had allowed to happened. He should have offered to check the envelope for her. If anything he should be the missing one, not Cecily. When her father spoke the words cut to him. 'Where's my daughter?' The question rang through his head a thousand time, and each time no answer was produced. "I'm not sure, sir." Nicolas replied after moments of silence, frowning. He expected her father to blame him entirely, as he did himself. He expected to be told to leave and never return, but he hoped for none of it.
 
"I think I'm more comfortable standing." Nicolas replied, half lying. He would of course be more comfortable sitting, and didn't want to disrespect Cecily's father but he was steadfast in his belief that he had no right to, not after what he had allowed to happen. 'Tell me everything.' This too rang in Nicolas' head a thousand times, each time producing a different starting point. Where should he begin? What did he already know? Did he know of the journal? No, Cecily said she would contact him only after she had finished and she had ten pages remaining, he resolved that was where he should begin.

"Two months ago your daughter received her grandfather's journal -- her mother's father's -- anonymously. I checked it for any enchantments and it had been charmed such that it shocked anybody who touched it who wasn't in Cecily's family I suppose. Although Cecily assured me nobody that she knew of in her family could preform magic. She'd been reading the journal, and tonight I spoke with her and she was greatly troubled by it, why, I don't know, I decided that it was not my place to ask, that she would tell me if she chose. Anyhow, on our way back to the castle she received another anonymous parcel, this time in a letter. I decided to leave her alone with it and started to make my way back to the school, when I turned around to look at her one last time." Nicolas paused her, unsure if he should have phrased that how he just did, "I should have checked it again." he started again, more to himself than Cecily's father, "Well, when I looked back she wasn't there, but the things I had left with her were." He explained, not sure if Cecily's father would understand what exactly that meant.
 
All his breath expelled from his body as he sat back in the chair, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. "I see." He stared out the window for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. He thought back to all the times Cecily had come home and the secret knowledge she'd gifted her parents about the wizarding world. "Could she have touched something in the letter?" He couldn't place his mind quite on what he suspected.
 
"I believe that's what happened, yes. She was opening it as I walked away, and it being a portkey would explain everything about her being nowhere in site but the parcels remaining." Nicolas stated, "I'm so sorry."
 
James sighed harshly, scrubbing a large hand over his face. He got up and went to stand by Nicolas. "It's not your fault," he said, placing a hand briefly on his shoulder. "You'll find her." It wasn't a question. He knew there was a strength in the man his daughter was dating. "What can we do on our end?" He knew there wasn't much they could do being muggles but he would try in any way to bring his daughter back safely.
 
"That's debatable." Nicolas muttered, solely to himself in reply to it not being his fault. 'I have to find her.' he told himself. "I think you should keep Mrs. Rambolt calm, and giving yourselves some luck might not hurt." Nicolas said, hoping they still had some of their potion left and contemplating brewing himself some. He also hoped he understood to what he was referring.
 
"Mr. Rambolt, that was a gift to you and your wife. I can make enough luck to last me a life time if I wanted to, but that potion can have side effects in judgment and bravery, I don't want to necessarily risk that." Nicolas stated firmly in a half truth. It did have such side effects, but in larger doses. "I should leave now. I'm so sorry." He finished, turning to the door.
 
James nodded, pocketing the brew. He'd give it to his wife, she would need it most at this time. "Keep us posted." He said, following him to the fireplace. He didn't blame him. It wasn't his fault about the portkey. His thoughts went back to what Nicolas had said about Marilyn's father's journal. More than one thing wasn't right with this situation. He only hoped his daughter would return to them soon to tell them about it herself.
 
"I will." Nicolas stated, walking out into the main room again. He hadn't brought any floo powder to return to New Zealand, and apparation across continents was absurd. He decided he would apparate into central London and go to the Ministry of Magic to see if any registered Portkeys had been activated in New Zealand that night. With a crack, he vanished.
 
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