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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The following 1 user Likes Connor Sinnet's post:1 user Likes Connor Sinnet's post
   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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Angie's temper almost flared— but she had learned long ago to keep it in check. She had to remind herself that he was young, they had little to no relationship outside letters. "I think you probably like to eat hot food and I know how to cook." Nothing terribly fancy, but enough to get by and she could learn more, if needed. Angie was quick to learn, all it would take was some recipes and everything would be fine. Her budget didn't allow for too much, but she could splurge every once in a while.

"I also think that you're twelve and it's terribly irresponsible to leave you here by yourself." That their parents seemed to leave their responsibility here, wasn't a surprise, but Angie could figure it out in the meantime. "I could stay here, if you'd rather." Less convenient for her and she still had to go to work, so he would still be by himself during the day; maybe that would be easier here, if he wanted. It would be awkward if Marius and Rebekah did return, but that could be handled if or when it happened.

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He didn’t like the argument about being twelve. She wouldn’t know, obviously, but Connor knew: he was a clever twelve. Some of his yearmates were six or seven year olds if they measured in smarts or maturity, so he thought he was probably leagues ahead. But he didn’t like her inviting herself here, either – she had left, she wasn’t allowed to just waltz back to the house now.

Her argument about hot food, on the other hand... Connor’s attention had pricked up at that. “You know how to cook?” he questioned, eyebrows arched in judgement and surprise. She definitely hadn’t learned that here, had she? They had always had a cook through his childhood, and Rebekah and Marius had not had much interest in the goings on of the kitchen themselves, for obvious reasons.

He didn’t wait for Angie to answer that – Connor had realised it was an opportunity to see where she lived nowadays without having to ask her outright about it. “Fine,” he said, in more the tone of a command than an acceptance, “I’ll come.”

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Angie chuckled at the comment about knowing how to cook. She'd learned a lot in her years on her own and cooking was a life skill she'd had to get the hang of. Connor would probably be even more surprised to know that she could cook both in a proper kitchen and over a campfire, but she could spring that on him another time.

"Alright," she nodded. "Pack whatever you need." While she waited for him to handle that, she made her way down the hall toward her old room. She had to wonder if they had turned it into something else, or if it was simply a guest room now. It was silly to feel any trepidation about this, but she held her breath as she turned the handle.

After illuminating the candles with her wand, Ang was surprised to see it was very much the same as she'd left it. Well, except for the white envelope on the bedspread. That surely wasn't good.

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Connor had rarely ever done his own packing – he had relied, thoughtlessly, on Mrs. Murray to pack all his things any time he and his parents had gone travelling. Given the lack of all servants currently in this house, he might have asked Angie to do it. Only he didn’t really want her poking around in his things, and – she had already walked away.

Connor stared at her retreating form down the hallway, mildly dumbfounded for a moment.

This all felt very weird.

It didn’t take him very long to gather his things, once he got stuck in – if only because this time he hadn’t really unpacked his school trunk or the rumpled clothes in it. He plucked some extra books off the library shelves and looked quizzically about for anything else he might possibly need. Ah, the owl cage: for when Agrippa got back, hopefully with news.

He paused for a moment, considering trying to levitate his things out of the library and down the stairs and thinking better of it. Instead, he shoved them out into the hallway and followed where his sister had gone. “Angie?” he tried, clearing his throat from the doorway of the room he supposed must have been hers, and wondering what she was looking at. “M’ready.”

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Ang had only had time to pick up the envelope, her name, her full name, written in a familiar script she hadn't seen in years. She didn't bother to open it just yet, but she knew it wouldn't be good news. It would have to wait a little while though, as Connor's voice from the doorway startled her from her reverie. It was weird being back here, but it was even stranger to hear her name in his voice.

"Great, let's get your things, then," she tried to keep her voice light; she didn't have much choice. Leaving him here by himself wasn't an option, staying here would have dredged up a lifetime Ang had no business being part of anymore. It was crossing a strange divide to bring him to her flat, but there wasn't much else she could think to do.

She pushed back toward him, tucking the letter inside her cloak pocket and strode down the hallway. "We can always come back if you need anything else." As awkward as it would be. She made quick work of minimizing his things, small enough to tuck into her own satchel slung over her shoulder beneath the cloak. "Ready?" She asked, before motioning for them to go back downstairs. She needed to lock up and the she could apparate them back to London.

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