"You are correct, Alexander," Druella said, crossing the room toward where her grandson had just taken a very bold stance against Frederick, mostly to prevent this escalating from word battles to wand battled. "No one in this family does themselves any credit by behaving this way."

Treating Cygnus to a disgusted, near insulted look at the comparison to Muggles, and Druella nearly the same look at her lecture on manners, Frederick rocked back on his heels with his fists clenched. He would get to the bottom of this, he would get the answers he sought, even if he had to 'behave'.

"Fine." Pausing a moment, he cleared his throat, then began again, this time the anger at his son's behavior and the resulting sick fear he could not handle at what Rabastan had implied not communicated in thunderous demands, but barely-controlled growling tones. He had not retreated, however, and his tall framed loomed over both his grandchildren.

"Meda, I want to know what happens in your future and I expect to be told so now without hesitation." Forgotten were his assertions about keeping the future from other arrivals, for Frederick no longer considered himself a part of that, knowing as he did much about the future and assuming quite a bit more.

Again Meda shook her head, bottom lip trembling. "No, I can't, please don't make me," she pleaded, rising from her spot on the floor. "Please Grandperé Lestrange, you don't know what you're asking."

That was likely the wrong wording to use.

Fredrick blustered, heavy eyebrows shooting upward then furrowing. "Young lady, I know exactly what I am asking and I expect the truth! Now cease your histrionics and tell me what I want to know."

Except the tears now trickling down Meda's cheeks were far from histrionics, they were genuine and based entirely in the fear of having to tell anymore than she already had in the past, and especially in having to now tell him what others knew.