Post by Theo Bowre on Jul 17, 2011 19:22:56 GMT -5
(OOC: Takes place immediately after Tiger, Tiger Burning Bright.))
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Theo placed his forehead against the cool exterior of the door, his hands coming to rest on either side of his face. It was his first opportunity to breathe since that morning's attack on Hogsmeade, and after attending to the immediate needs of the village and getting a troubled friend to the safety of St. Mungos, Harkness House was the only thing he could think of.
There was a peace on the grounds of Harkness House that could only be understood by those who lived there: it was a feeling of safety and shelter, amplified by the large iron gates, the majestic old-growth oaks, and the concrete statuary covered in rich, emerald ivy. The gardens were impeccably kept and while the estate spoke of great riches, the family overseeing the pristine orphanage rather broke the mould as far as millionaires went. This was never more apparent then when Ralph Harkness, the patriarch of the Harkness clan, opened the door to his adopted son.
"Jesus, Theo. You look like hell. Your mother's going to have a conniption. She's been pouring over the Daily Prophet all day." The stout, entirely bald man placed a supportive hand on Theo's shoulder and called back in to the house. "It's Theo. He's alive."
"Oh my God. Oh my God, Ralph! Where is he?"
Theo smiled weakly at his mother's tizzy. She was always such a stalwart woman, unless it involved her children - biological or otherwise.
"Brace yourself, son."
Not another second passed before Jean's face appeared behind her husband. She was a small, petite witch who carried the air of authority. Her sharp features and piercing grey eyes could extricate the truth out of anyone and yet she was also intensely loving. There was nothing she wouldn't do for those in her care.
"Theo, my God. It's all over the papers. They're saying twenty-two dead." Jean grabbed Theo by the arm and dragged him inside the front door towards the anteroom. Ralph winced for his son.
"Gentle, Jean."
Dozens of periodicals covered the large reading table, partially hidden by several half-consumed cups of tea. It was evident that breakfast and lunch had been spent in the room, undoubtedly so that the Harknesses could keep abreast of the situation in Scotland. Despite the fact that it was mid-summer, they saw fit to light a fire. Theo was thankful for the warmth.
Jean placed her hands on Theo's chest as if to tell him something but was distracted by the moving images on the papers.
"We received owls from all your sisters and brothers. I told them that I thought you might be out of town for your match against Norway but then your father reminded me that that wasn't until next week. Then Kat got on the fire and told me about this." Jean pulled aside a page and pointed to a tiny article in the bottom corner of the page. The headline read "Welsh Beater Extracts Boy from Rubble." There was a moving picture of Theo lifting the child out of a pile of debris and handing him to his mother. Jean suddenly slapped Theo's hand. "I've been worried sick! What were you thinking going in to that mess? You could have died."
"Mom - "
"Twenty-two dead, Theodore. Do you know any of their identities?"
"I don't mom, no." Theo took a deep breath. "Ralin was there. He injured his paw and shoulder but we took care of it right away, he's going to be alright."
"Thank God. And Reckony?"
Theo's jaw set. Only his dad caught the slight pause.
"He's fine. Maebh Breandan, you remember the gypsy family that used to come around? She was quite badly hurt."
"Oh heavens. Poor darling."
Ralph stepped forward, trying to slow down Jean's string of questions so that his son had a chance to relax.
"Theo, can we fix you something to eat?"
"No thank you. I'm..."
"What do you need?"
"I was wondering if I could crash in the carriage house for a few hours, just to clear my head."
"Absolutely."
"And if possible, I'd rather no one know I was here. I don't want to put you in an awkward spot, I just need some time alone."
Jean nodded before Theo finished, already set on the next course of action.
"Yes, I'm going to get Jack on the fire."
"Not just yet, Jean."
Theo gave his dad a grateful look.
* * * * * * * * * *
The carriage house was one of Theo's favourite places: a small, loft-like flat above his father's classic car collection that was largely left empty due to fact that Ralph and Jean knew it's where their adult children liked to retreat to. It was furnished in serene greys and crisp whites and boasted the most amazing light, which filtered softly through slanted skylights, providing just enough light to see without being obtrusive. Theo was thankful for the cloud-coverage over Wales that afternoon; he might be able to get some sleep.
The beater pulled open a drawer in a nearby cabinet, pulling out a soft, navy blue t-shirt and a pair of dark grey sweatpants. He discarded his dirt and ash-stained clothes and used the washbasin in the corner to get rid of the blood and soot off his skin. After rinsing his hair, he climbed beneath the covers of the bed and buried his head beneath the pillows.
Half and hour passed before there was a soft knock on the door. Ralph Harkness entered quietly and sat at the edge of his adopted son's bed, placing a gentle hand on the middle of his back. Theo emerged from beneath the pillow and turned to face his dad. Ralph's expression was warm.
"Hey, boyo."
"Dad."
Ralph seemed to hesitate.
"Are you in trouble, son?"
"No."
"You can tell me straight. We'll take care of it together, you know?"
"I'm not in trouble, Dad."
"No. No, I supposed you're not. You probably wouldn't j-walk without turning yourself in. You'd make a terrible criminal." Theo smiled. "You even confess to things you didn't do. I don't know if that makes you a help or a hinderance to your brother's lawmen."
"I have to keep him on his toes."
"Yes you do." Ralph patted his son's chest. "So I managed to hold off your mother in calling the family for a bit. Bad news is she's planning a family dinner. I'm sorry."
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Theo placed his forehead against the cool exterior of the door, his hands coming to rest on either side of his face. It was his first opportunity to breathe since that morning's attack on Hogsmeade, and after attending to the immediate needs of the village and getting a troubled friend to the safety of St. Mungos, Harkness House was the only thing he could think of.
There was a peace on the grounds of Harkness House that could only be understood by those who lived there: it was a feeling of safety and shelter, amplified by the large iron gates, the majestic old-growth oaks, and the concrete statuary covered in rich, emerald ivy. The gardens were impeccably kept and while the estate spoke of great riches, the family overseeing the pristine orphanage rather broke the mould as far as millionaires went. This was never more apparent then when Ralph Harkness, the patriarch of the Harkness clan, opened the door to his adopted son.
"Jesus, Theo. You look like hell. Your mother's going to have a conniption. She's been pouring over the Daily Prophet all day." The stout, entirely bald man placed a supportive hand on Theo's shoulder and called back in to the house. "It's Theo. He's alive."
"Oh my God. Oh my God, Ralph! Where is he?"
Theo smiled weakly at his mother's tizzy. She was always such a stalwart woman, unless it involved her children - biological or otherwise.
"Brace yourself, son."
Not another second passed before Jean's face appeared behind her husband. She was a small, petite witch who carried the air of authority. Her sharp features and piercing grey eyes could extricate the truth out of anyone and yet she was also intensely loving. There was nothing she wouldn't do for those in her care.
"Theo, my God. It's all over the papers. They're saying twenty-two dead." Jean grabbed Theo by the arm and dragged him inside the front door towards the anteroom. Ralph winced for his son.
"Gentle, Jean."
Dozens of periodicals covered the large reading table, partially hidden by several half-consumed cups of tea. It was evident that breakfast and lunch had been spent in the room, undoubtedly so that the Harknesses could keep abreast of the situation in Scotland. Despite the fact that it was mid-summer, they saw fit to light a fire. Theo was thankful for the warmth.
Jean placed her hands on Theo's chest as if to tell him something but was distracted by the moving images on the papers.
"We received owls from all your sisters and brothers. I told them that I thought you might be out of town for your match against Norway but then your father reminded me that that wasn't until next week. Then Kat got on the fire and told me about this." Jean pulled aside a page and pointed to a tiny article in the bottom corner of the page. The headline read "Welsh Beater Extracts Boy from Rubble." There was a moving picture of Theo lifting the child out of a pile of debris and handing him to his mother. Jean suddenly slapped Theo's hand. "I've been worried sick! What were you thinking going in to that mess? You could have died."
"Mom - "
"Twenty-two dead, Theodore. Do you know any of their identities?"
"I don't mom, no." Theo took a deep breath. "Ralin was there. He injured his paw and shoulder but we took care of it right away, he's going to be alright."
"Thank God. And Reckony?"
Theo's jaw set. Only his dad caught the slight pause.
"He's fine. Maebh Breandan, you remember the gypsy family that used to come around? She was quite badly hurt."
"Oh heavens. Poor darling."
Ralph stepped forward, trying to slow down Jean's string of questions so that his son had a chance to relax.
"Theo, can we fix you something to eat?"
"No thank you. I'm..."
"What do you need?"
"I was wondering if I could crash in the carriage house for a few hours, just to clear my head."
"Absolutely."
"And if possible, I'd rather no one know I was here. I don't want to put you in an awkward spot, I just need some time alone."
Jean nodded before Theo finished, already set on the next course of action.
"Yes, I'm going to get Jack on the fire."
"Not just yet, Jean."
Theo gave his dad a grateful look.
* * * * * * * * * *
The carriage house was one of Theo's favourite places: a small, loft-like flat above his father's classic car collection that was largely left empty due to fact that Ralph and Jean knew it's where their adult children liked to retreat to. It was furnished in serene greys and crisp whites and boasted the most amazing light, which filtered softly through slanted skylights, providing just enough light to see without being obtrusive. Theo was thankful for the cloud-coverage over Wales that afternoon; he might be able to get some sleep.
The beater pulled open a drawer in a nearby cabinet, pulling out a soft, navy blue t-shirt and a pair of dark grey sweatpants. He discarded his dirt and ash-stained clothes and used the washbasin in the corner to get rid of the blood and soot off his skin. After rinsing his hair, he climbed beneath the covers of the bed and buried his head beneath the pillows.
Half and hour passed before there was a soft knock on the door. Ralph Harkness entered quietly and sat at the edge of his adopted son's bed, placing a gentle hand on the middle of his back. Theo emerged from beneath the pillow and turned to face his dad. Ralph's expression was warm.
"Hey, boyo."
"Dad."
Ralph seemed to hesitate.
"Are you in trouble, son?"
"No."
"You can tell me straight. We'll take care of it together, you know?"
"I'm not in trouble, Dad."
"No. No, I supposed you're not. You probably wouldn't j-walk without turning yourself in. You'd make a terrible criminal." Theo smiled. "You even confess to things you didn't do. I don't know if that makes you a help or a hinderance to your brother's lawmen."
"I have to keep him on his toes."
"Yes you do." Ralph patted his son's chest. "So I managed to hold off your mother in calling the family for a bit. Bad news is she's planning a family dinner. I'm sorry."