December 24th, 1894 - Asgaut-Sinnet Residence

Angie's most recent letters with Connor had left her uneasy. Have you heard from them? was a rather damning notion. Angie hadn't heard from them in twelve years, why would they start now? Still it had weighed on her too much for her to ignore it. Her childhood home, tucked away in the British countryside, away from any nearby towns was a thing of her nightmares for the most part. It had almost faded from memory, for all she'd worked through to forget it. Perhaps it had been selfish, to leave Connor there all by himself, but her adoptive parents had replaced her with him and she'd been seventeen and determined to start her own life. She wasn't exactly proud of that choice, but she was proud of herself, for where she'd gotten herself to now.

She still had a key, still knew exactly which roads to take to walk out to the estate that looked dark and ominous against the forest behind it. Which was probably what Rebekah and Marius had been aiming for at any rate. The closer she got, the more she could feel the years worth of pent up frustration and abandonment scratching at her chest, trying to get out. Angie had long ago put those emotions to rest, but when faced with everything from her past, right in front of her, it was hard to ignore.

Without bothering to knock, Ang let herself in with her key and was immediately distrustful of the situation. The house was deserted, no staff near the door, a layer of dust that suggested it hadn't been used. "Connor!" She called out after making her way to the bottom of the grand staircase that led up to the family rooms. "Are you here?" Ang was torn between wanting to find someone here and hoping she didn't run into her former parents. She waited a moment before starting up the stairs, heartbeat picking up as she ascended each one. "Connor?" He was really her only concern at the moment anyway.

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Connor Sinnet

  

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He had taken up residence in the upstairs library, the one along the hall from his room – he had been spending more time in the kitchen, trying to figure out how to boil water and put things in pots, but he’d abandoned this plan after burning something on the kitchen range so badly that the room had reeked of smoke for days. He had brought supplies up – he’d gotten through most of the bread and cakes in the pantry already, and wasn’t yet desperate enough for most of the raw vegetables, except the odd carrot. He had managed to light the fire magically in here, so it was a few degrees warmer than the rest of the place. Which had been left draughty and quiet, some of the furniture covered up as if he and his parents had closed up the place for a trip across Europe or something. He assumed that was where they were – they must have dismissed the staff for the time being and forgotten that he could come home for Christmas, because there had been no one here to let him in. (Connor had had to clamber up and break a window at the back to get in, a few days ago.)

And he had written to them, but hadn’t got an answer yet. Maybe they were somewhere remote, like Sweden or Norway, and hadn’t gotten his owl yet? Connor didn’t know. He had mostly amused himself by flicking through his old favourite novels and bringing his bedcovers into the library, because it felt more enclosed and cosier than his room.

Only – he had sworn he heard the door open, and someone on the stairs. (Connor had read a lot of horror penny-dreadfuls, in his time – he felt sure someone had come to kidnap him, or to hold him over the fire until he gave up all the house’s treasures. Something like that. )

So he had taken the poker from the hearth, brandishing it like a sword or a club, and crept along the landing. Whoever it was was coming up the stairs – only they knew his name and had come in through the door, so –?

Connor leapt out from behind the corner, resisting the urge to yell a battle-cry but still holding the poker aloft in front of him. There was a woman there, with brown hair. He didn’t recognise her. “How’d you get in?” he accused.

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   Cassius Lestrange

Angie hadn't been expecting that, but she also was fresh off a ten-year stint as a cursebreaker; there wasn't much that actually rattled her. "Whoa!" She held her hands up. "It's me, Connor, Angie." It was her fault he didn't recognize her and she knew that. She was sort of impressed with his tenacity though. "I still have my key." She held it up as evidence for him to see. There was no rhyme or reason for her to have kept it, but apparently she had for a good reason. He was probably the only reason that she had.

"Are you alright?" There wasn't any sign of anyone else in the house and the Christmas holidays had started at least a week or more ago. "Is anyone else here?" Even if he'd been left with the staff, that would have been alright. Somebody, anybody to care for him. He was only twelve for Merlin's sake, did they expect him to take care of himself? Did they expect her to take care of him without even bothering to ask? If she thought about it too much she was going to reach a rolling boil.

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This was his infamous, long-lost, cursebreaking sister? (Not really his sister, he thought stubbornly, correcting himself – she had been adopted. They weren’t the same.) He lowered the poker away from her, reluctantly convinced by the key she’d shown him more than anything else about her, but didn’t let it go for now. He felt better for having something solid in his hand.

“I’m fine,” he asserted, resolutely unaware of just how bedraggled he looked, with three-day-old crumpled clothes and uncombed hair and dark circles under his eyes. But to the second question, he shrugged. “Haven’t seen anyone.” He was prepared to leave it there – Angie didn’t have any right to come back and start meddling, but he did want to know if she had heard something he hadn’t, so... “I wrote, the other day, but they haven’t written back. Maybe they didn’t know I was coming home,” he said, a little defensively.

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He looked like he'd survived however many days on his own at least. Angie wasn't so sure about fine though. She also wasn't sure that Marius and Rebekah would have just forgotten Connor was coming home. She wasn't about to say that out loud though. Connor didn't know just how selfish they could be and she really hoped he wasn't about to learn it firsthand.

She wasn't exactly sure what to do right about now either. Ang wanted to believe that their parents had just skipped town for the holidays and had forgotten about him, but she knew better. They weren't stupid, they hadn't just forgotten about him because he'd been at school for a few months. "Do you want to maybe pack some things and come stay with me, just until they come back?" She would rather be able to keep an eye on him, but she wasn't sure just how long it would be for, or if he would even come. She couldn't just leave him here and she wasn't prepared to stay here at the moment either, nor did she really want to.

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Them having forgotten about him was the best outcome, see. Connor was not ready to consider the alternatives. When his owl came back, maybe he would write to Mrs. Murray – his parents might have told her something. Hopefully his owl would be able to find her, because Connor didn’t actually know where Mrs. Murray lived when she was not here looking after him.

But he was nearly practically old enough not to need looking after, wasn’t he? He’d survived a term of Hogwarts without any parents in sight. Well, he hadn’t had to do any cooking or cleaning at school, but – still.

Then Angie asked if he wanted to stay with her. Connor was so surprised he snorted – and when his amusement faded, he stared hard at her, a little offended. “Do you – think I’m scared or something?” Did she think he needed her help? He hadn’t asked for it. He hadn’t even invited her here.

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