WHO: Hugo Nott and Byron Kettleburn WHAT: Tea time! WHEN: 24 January, afternoon WHERE: Nott’s house in Tinworth WARNINGS: 😬😬😬
Tea with a likely Death Eater wasn’t how Byron had imagined spending his Wednesday afternoon, but here he was at Hugo Nott’s kitchen table with a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits he could only hope weren’t poisoned. He reached into his bag for a piece of parchment and his dictaquill, putting off the moment he’d have to take a sip. Maybe he could avoid it altogether if he distracted his host long enough.
He glanced across the cups and plates at the older man. “Do you mind if I transcribe our conversation?”
Hugo had spent a long time making the tea, making it obvious to his guest that he had painstakingly measured the tea leaves and sugar and a few drops of milk into the dainty porcelain cups. He smiled broadly and nodded. “Of course, Mr Kettleburn.”
“Thank you, sir,” he replied and set up the quill. His tea remained untouched as he began.
BK: So, Mr Nott, it’s been a month since the election, the outcome of which I’m sure was a disappointment for you. I guess what everyone must be wondering is what’s next for you?
HN: Well, it has been quite the month. I must cast my mind back, it takes a while at my age. [Laughter] Of course, celebrating Christmas with my son was my first priority after Election Day. I'd barely had time to prepare anything! My dear son Theodore — of course, you must know of him! He's a very talented lad, very thoughtful. We've always kept Christmas as a quiet family affair, especially since it's just the two of us. I do miss his company when he's at Hogwarts. Top of his class, you know, but I'm sure your boy told you that! Did you know that they're in the same Potions class, with good old Slughorn? Well, Theodore arrived home just in time to pick me up from that awful loss! It wasn't too dreadful, Christmas, though I always do miss my dear Elsa at those times.
BK: I wasn’t aware they were in the same Potions class, but I’m not surprised they share a proclivity for their studies. Or that you managed to enjoy Christmas despite everything, even in Tinworth.
HN: I can't say my boy ever talks about yours, probably doesn't shine in class the same way. [Clears throat.] Anyway, goodness. Where was I? Yes, Christmas in Tinworth. Well, Tinworth is a delightful place to live in. Mostly quiet, apart from the few odd goings-on. I think it's ideal for quiet retirement, unlike those noisy youths with their signs and lights who seem to have moved here recently. But I do love it, the place welcomed me in after my very sad loss. But yes, aha, it's been almost a decade that I've lived here. The former owner of this cottage left it in an awful state, didn't care for the gardens at all.
BK: Lucky for the gardens you moved in. And lucky for you that you’ve managed to stay out of the trouble in Tinworth. [Coughs.] Anyway, we can probably assume you won’t be leaving Tinworth anytime soon. What else would you say the future holds for you?
HN: Well, I dare say I might continue teaching from time to time. I have a few occasional pupils right now, they're very promising but children these days don't appreciate good duelling technique. It's all about who can get the quickest stunning spell in first rather than anticipating a well-aimed curse. Say, Kettleburn, what's your favourite spell in a duel? Mine changes, but sometimes things such as silencing charms can create difficulties your opponent doesn't foresee.
[A long pause.]
BK: That’s very clever, sir. I’m not much at duelling myself. The quill’s always been my weapon of choice.
HN: How dull. Well, I could tell you so much about duelling that you'd probably find interest. Did you know I was the duelling champion for Great Britain and Ireland from ‘66 to ‘75? Nasty bought of the flu kept me from the competition in ‘76 or I'd have made it a nice round decade before retiring from the professional duelling circuit. The most important thing is to — say, Kettleburn, you haven't touched your tea!
BK: Oh! I — I guess I forgot about it. But, uh, please do go on. About the duelling. I understand Robards was one of your students.
HN: Of course, all the promising duellers of his age went to me but I'm awfully selective of who I pick to teach. Robards was good, very good, but I'm always afraid he never truly met his potential. Ah, and now that talent is wasted by sitting at the Wizengamot! Although I'm sure it gives him great joy to say that he finally beat me at something!
BK: I’m sure it does, especially if it’s taken him — what? Thirty? Forty years?
HN: Better late than never! [Laughter]
BK: [Fainter laughter.] So, does this mean you’ve both buried the hatchet of your rivalry? Or can we expect to see you challenge him again in the next election?
HN: I'd like to think that someone younger could answer the call to oppose him next time around, I’m aware that it's early days but he's hardly done much to stop the violence around Tinworth. I do think that we should always hold our political figures accountable, although I expect he'll cling on to that seat and only let someone else have it over his dead body! [Laughter.] I dare say I'd encourage the youth of Tinworth to put their hat in the ring next time, for their own sakes. My dear son Theodore wouldn't be a good one though, for all his excellent qualities I think he just cares too much to be cold and political.
BK: There’s another way our sons differ. Mine would use his caring to make himself a better politician. [Stilted laughter.] But I think it’s more likely he’ll take after his mother. And I’m sure whoever ends up with the seat next will do their best.
HN: And let’s hope it’s neither of our sons!
BK: Let’s hope! [Clears throat.] At least you’ve got your garden to keep you busy.
HN: Of course, gardening is a year-round occupation. It’s not just admiring the flowers in summer or keeping tabs on the tomatoes as they grow. I’m very fond of my garden and Tinworth has wonderful weather for growing things in. It’s a quiet hobby, too, something I can just get on with in my own time.
BK: Maybe next time you make it into the Prophet it’ll be for your charming spring buds.
HN: [Laughter] Perhaps I can get a gardening trophy to add to my duelling ones! I say, Kettleburn, your tea must be ice cold by now.
BK: Ah yes. [Forced laughter.] I suppose I’ve just been too engaged in our conversation.
HN: Riveting chat, I know. Now, let’s see if I can fetch some biscuits to go with that tea.
BK: Oh, that’s very kind but I really should be going. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me.
HN: Really, Kettleburn, it’s just tea. [Laughter]
BK: Well. [Nervous laughter.] If you insist.
Byron eyed the quill beside him, hoping it wasn’t about to record the sounds of his last breaths on earth. Under Nott’s watchful eye, he finally relented and reached for his tea. He met the older man’s gaze as he tipped it toward his mouth and swallowed down every last drop.