Closed Wonderful shelter

Tilly Drage

Hufflepuff Co-Captain | Beater
 
Messages
1,375
OOC First Name
Amanda
Blood Status
Mixed Blood
Relationship Status
Seeing Somebody
Sexual Orientation
Seraphina
Wand
12" Pear with Mermaid Scales
Age
May 25, 2040 (17)
Tilly was amazed by how quickly the term had Hogwarts New Zealand had flown by. She still couldn’t believe she was sitting here, at home, with her family. The first-year Hufflepuff had missed Samoa more than she realized. Even if she couldn’t shake off Sefina.

Miraculously, the six-year-old had fallen asleep while they were reading a book of fairy tales out loud. Tilly crept away, walking on her tiptoes. It was too easy to stomp through the house with big feet.

She stepped into the kitchen. Her dad was preparing lunch and her mum was at the table, scribbling on a notepad. “Hey,” Tilly said, wandering over to the counter and snatching a boiled egg from the serving tray. She sat at the table and took a bite out of the egg. It was still warm; the yolk cooked hard, just the way she liked it.
 
“Thief,” Christian joked, playfully swatting at Tilly’s arm. He just missed her- she was quick and made off with the egg. Shaking his head, he lifted his wand and turned off the burner with a flick of the wrist. He reversed the charm that had the spatula stirring a pot. In minutes, rice, vegetable curry, and eggs were spooned into bowls. Christian had found that he had a knack for cooking. They were like potions, on a small scale, with a more delicious end-product. He would leave Teuila to manage the cauldron.

Levitating the bowls towards the table, Christian joined his daughter and wife. “You didn’t sneak Sefina any Sleeping Draught from school, did you?”

Today was December the 27th. One year since Estrella had died. Christian was still reeling from Julie’s death last month, and remembering his sister’s passing made it all the worse. Surrounding himself with family and occupying his mind helped a little.
 
Teuila pushed aside her experimental potion recipe for a bowl of curry. It was a good trade. More than often, she was absolutely ravenous. Her pregnancy was just starting to show- not enough for Sefina to put two-and-two together. Teuila thought Tilly had taken the news relatively well. She seemed excited, even. Teuila had a feeling that her youngest would be twisting with jealousy once she found out. Well, it couldn’t be helped.

“If you could brew a Sleeping Draught in your first year, I’d be so proud!” Teuila secretly hoped that Tilly would take to Potions, but she knew full well her eldest daughter didn’t have the class until next term.
 
Tilly rolled her eyes. Her parents loved to poke fun. “As if! I haven’t used my cauldron once.” She spooned up a mouthful of rice and sauce, her mouth watering at the smell of coconut and spice. “I read her to sleep- thank Merlin.” Tilly loved her little sister dearly, but it was nice to have a break.

Tilly ate quietly, enjoying just being with her parents. She could tell her Dad was a little sad, but she didn’t ask him about it.

Tilly missed her Grandma Julie dearly, and hated thinking that she was gone forever. The fact that they were separated by continents and not blood-related never mattered. Tilly still resented her parents for not pulling her out of school. The whole family, everyone except Tilly, had gotten together to grieve and celebrate life. It made her feel left out. But she didn’t say anything, because she knew it would hurt her parents. Especially her dad.
 
Christian raised an eyebrow. “All right, a Sleeping Charm, then.” The wizard ate his curry thoughtfully, chopping up bits of egg into the sauce. “Sefina’s so excited that you’re home.” They all were, but that went without saying.

Tilly was such a kind and patient sister. That said, she didn’t let Sefina boss her around. Despite this, Sefina absolutely adored Tilly. And so would the next little one, over time. Christian remembered how he’d looked up to Estrella when he was small.

The world turned, some jumped off, and others hopped on.
 
TIlly finished her bowl of curry, scraping up the last bits of sauce and grains of rice. Then, she pushed it aside and looked up at her dad. Since Grandma Julie had died, she’d been thinking a lot about where they came from. She knew her mum’s parents, of course, and Grandpa Tristan, but she knew from a young age that her dad had another mother. Tilly knew she was dead, and that was about it.

“Dad, what was your mother like?” Tilly asked. She was cautious but curious.
 
Teuila had eaten quickly, beating her daughter to the bottom of the bowl. Now, she was regretting it. Nausea came and went like a sea-sickness. At Tilly’s question, she decided she would not be helpful in this conversation. Christian was on his own for this one.

Teuila snatched up her pen and notepad. “Thanks for lunch, honey. I’ve got to work on this- I’ll be in the living room if you two need me.” She made her way to the sofa, trying not to eavesdrop.
 
Christian nearly dropped his spoon at Tilly’s question. There was an unspoken rule in the house about the matter. Except, he knew he couldn’t keep secrets from his daughters forever. Especially if they asked. He figured someday, they would find out one way or another, and best it came from him.

The wizard paused. “She was- cold. And loving, in her way.” He let the silence hang between them. Could Tilly really comprehend it? Would she want to?

“Tilly, would you like to go for a walk?”
 
Out of all the words her dad could have used, “cold” was not what Tilly was expecting. She wondered what that was supposed to mean. The girl had never encountered a mother who she could think of, that way.

Tilly saw the worry in her dad’s face, and immediately regretted it. “Sorry, Dad, you don’t have to…” she said, feeling a creeping shame. Everything had been happy and light just moments ago.
 
Ice twisted Christian’s insides. “Don’t be sorry,” he said, quickly, reaching out and putting his hand on Tilly’s shoulder. He kicked himself for making her feel bad. “I think this would be better discussed on a walk,” Christian added, “it’s still low tide.” When he was by himself, he liked to sit and think by the Pacific. He thought it would do for a serious conversation.
 
“OK.” Tilly followed her dad outside. The beach wasn’t so far away. So many questions bubbled to the surface of her mind. But instead of opening her mouth, she reached out and grabbed her dad’s hand, squeezing it hard.
 
Christian smiled, if weakly, giving Tilly’s hand a light squeeze back and swinging their arms back and forth. What should he start with? How much to tell? Tilly was only eleven.

Stepping onto the beach, he noticed they had the place to themselves. At least, it looked that way. Opening his mouth, he said, “Tilly, before we talk about this further, can you promise me two things?”
 
Tilly kicked off her shoes as they reached sand. She loved the grainy earth beneath her feet, especially when it was warmed by the sun. “Yes,” Tilly said, not sure what type of promise she was making. But she trusted her dad.
 
Christian took a deep breath. “Promise me you’ll let me share this story in pieces.” He swallowed. “If you haven’t noticed, the topic of my mother is very heavy. I think you’ll be much happier if we wait on some of it.” No matter Tilly’s age, Christian wasn’t sure if she would ever be ready to learn that her grandmother was a murderess and pure-blood supremacist. But Tilly deserved to know, in due time.

“Secondly, promise me that you won’t share this with your siblings,” Christian continued, finding it strange to count the unborn baby, “or anyone outside of the family unless we’ve talked about it first.”
 
Tilly nodded. “I promise.” Suddenly, she felt nervous. But she wanted to know. The girl looked up at the deep blue skies and fluffy white clouds.

“What was her name?” Tilly asked, tentatively.
 
Christian tensed at the thought of saying his mother’s name. Since he was a teenager, he had an irrational fear that by speaking her name, he would summon her. From his studies, Christian was fairly certain that ghosts did not work that way, but his uneasiness remained.

The wizard forced himself to say it. “Thorine,” he said, breathing in, “Thorine Antoinette Dolohov.” Although it was sunny and warm, Christian felt a chill, like a sea breeze had picked up.

He let go of Tilly’s hand and reached for his wallet. He pulled out an old photo, creased and fading. He handed the visual evidence of his mother over to Tilly. Despite his complicated feelings on the matter, he always carried the photo with him.
 
Tilly committed the name to memory. She reached for the photo, excited. The picture was enchanted. There was a woman, standing, but not completely still. She was tall and bony, with strong, angular features. Her nose was hooked, like Sefina’s, and her hair was straight and blonde. Tilly thought she was beautiful, even though she couldn’t see herself in the woman.

“Whoa- she has two wands?” Tilly exclaimed, her eyes widening. Before, her grandmother had nothing in her hands. Now, she had both of her wands out, pointed at the camera. The woman was smiling, but that smile didn't reach her eyes.
 
“Yes. She always had two, as far back as I can remember.” Christian left out the fact that she’d collected far more than two, some from her victims. He watched Tilly’s expression as she looked at the photo. Christian felt vulnerable, possibly more vulnerable than he ever had.

“She passed away when I was three,” Christian continued, “We lived in New Zealand.”

Taking off his sandals, Christian stepped forward into the surf. The cool rush of water up to his ankles felt nice.

“Tilly, if you research her on your own, I won’t be upset,” Christian said. Now that he’d shared the name, there was no stopping her from reading news archives. “But you might be.”
 
Tilly joined her dad, standing in the water, careful to keep the photo dry. Her grandmother had put the wands back in her robes, and now she had her hands on her hips.

“Why will I be upset?” Tilly asked.
 
Christian sighed. “She was a- complicated witch.” He picked up a piece of floating seaweed that had wrapped around his leg, tossing it away from him. “I know she loved me, but she wasn’t a nice person.”

Christian looked over at Tilly. A wave of exhaustion rushed over him. “I have more information about her, some written. If you wait until the winter break, we can go through it together. There’s a lot to unpack.” Both figuratively and literally, he thought to himself.

That was as far as he wanted to go today. He hoped Tilly would be patient, but he didn’t say that out loud.
 
Not a nice person? Tilly was a Hufflepuff through-and-through; she had a difficult time wrapping her head around that concept. Pretty much everyone in her family was nice. But looking at the photo again, she could see what her dad had said. There was a coldness to Thorine Dolohov, a severity that Tilly couldn’t quite comprehend.

Tilly passed the photo over and then threw her arms around her dad, almost pushing him off-balance. “Thank you,” she said, burying her face in his shoulder, “I’ll wait.”
 
Christian laughed as he nearly toppled over. Tilly was growing stronger and bigger by the day. Regaining his balance, he hugged her back. The moment had evaporated some of the tension he was feeling.

In a way, it was a relief to share his burdens with another human. But as a father, he hated to place a burden like this on his daughter. Even if she wanted to know. He had a lot to think about.
 

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