InsaneJournal

Who: Stephen, Thaddeus, and Euphemia Cornfoot
When: May 4 (afternoon)
What: Stephen makes a decision.



Stephen couldn't recall how he'd heard. Although, in all honesty, he wouldn't allow himself to remember the circumstances of how he'd heard that Lisa had been injured in the battle. It was bad enough that she'd gone back to fight. But to hear that she was lying in St. Mungo's...

"Where are you going?"

He'd been about to step into the floo. He was going to find her and ask her what in the bloody hell she'd been thinking. No, no, he was going to find out how she was. To make sure that the person he'd heard from (whoever that might be) wasn't wrong. She could be dead, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind. He pushed that thought from his mind and turned to find his aunt staring at him.

He could lie. He could say he was going out. Going to meet friends. Going to see Theodore. They'd no doubt approve of that. Although maybe not. It had been in the paper. About Theodore's father.

"I'm going to St. Mungo's." He was tired of lying, tired of pretending. "To see Lisa."

Aunt Euphemia's eyes narrowed and she wrinkled her nose as if she'd smelled something off. "I do not think that is wise."

He shrugged. She hated shrugging. Said it was common.

She sighed deeply and shook her head. "Thaddeus!" she called out. Stephen's father appeared in the doorway a moment later. "It seems our Stephen is paying a call to that girl." Her nose had wrinkled again as she said the last two words.

Thaddeus shook his head. "No," he said rather simply.

Stephen crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm of age. And I'm going." He could have been at Mungo's by now.

"You might be of age, son, but I am still the head of this household. You are not going. That Potter boy may have won, but that doesn't mean we're going to upend hundreds of years of our family line so that you can have a go at some half-blood tart."

"She's not a tart!" Stephen exploded, uncrossing his arms and clenching his fists. Then he shook his head. "I've wasted too much time arguing about this." He grabbed a handful of floo powder.

"IF YOU LEAVE, DON'T BOTHER COMING BACK!"

Stephen paused for a moment, gave the tiniest shake of his head, and tossed the floo powder onto the grate. "St. Mungo's!" he called out before stepping into the green flames.