Tweak

InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Hear the voice of Thanatos!"

Marcus Flint (marcedflint) wrote in finnigans_rpg,
@ 2015-08-08 20:47:00

Entry tags:

character: blaise zabini, character: bryony capper, character: gregory goyle, character: marcus flint, character: richard summerby, character: tristan travers

Who: Marcus and OPEN to multiples
What: His mother's funeral
Where: Surin Funeral Home and then Flint Manor
When: Saturday, August 8, beginning mid-morning [backdated]
Rating: TBD but probably SFW

The Surin Funeral Home was a wizarding establishment in the heart of London, and anyone not in proper attire - full, formal robes - would be refused entry. The guestbook was floating just inside the door of the viewing room, which opened into the back row of seats available. At the front center of the room was the casket, a large arrangement of hydrangeas sitting next to it. Per Pureblood tradition, because Phillipa had died in a non-violent manner, her casket was left open for the viewing, though it would be closed at the start of the actual service. That portion of the morning lasted about an hour, before the wizard in charge finished speaking and the funeral director began politely herding people towards the Floo in the entrance hall.

Guests who would be attending the family home were given directions to the ball room that was being used for the day. The four family house elves passed among the attendees silently with trays of finger food and drinks. The doors leading out of the room were warded so that guests could not wander off down the corridors of the manor.

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	11:00 AM - Viewing marcedflint 2015-08-09 03:38 am UTC (link)
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Marcus and Open

marcedflint
2015-08-09 03:39 am UTC (link)

It had taken Marcus almost an hour and two shots of Firewhiskey to force down the feeling of dread he'd woken with, and another half hour of getting ready before he felt prepared to leave the manor. A lifetime of learning to not allow his expressions show his feelings was a practice he was grateful for today. He'd dressed, done a quick breath-Freshening charm, and arrived at the funeral home early, had another quick conversation with the director, who assured him that everything was taken care of, which meant that all that was left for him to do was to greet and speak with anyone who might have approached him.

While he waited for the appointed time for the service to begin, Marcus tried not to look at his mother - he couldn't bring himself to think of it as her body, not if he wanted to maintain his composure. He'd always hated the concept of staring at anyone in an open casket, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to go against tradition in his. It left him staring at the flowers he'd chosen instead, vaguely registering the individuals who had started entering the room, but he didn't move his attention until someone came up to him directly.

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Marcus and Blaise and Open

dark_blaise
2015-08-09 06:17 pm UTC (link)

Blaise hadn't really known Mrs. Flint as anything more than Marcus' mother. Upon entering the funeral home he found himself sidetracked by an elderly woman who had a story to share with him about Philippa. He was fairly certain that she'd grabbed everyone she could to tell this story and Blaise didn't particularly feel like being a part of this woman's day. Still, there was a protocol to follow and in their circles it didn't matter how grown you were, you allowed an elder to have your time if the scenario lent itself to proper decorum.

Finally, he was able to make his way through the crowd and pay formal respects. He'd been down this road many times. So much in fact that he tended to be emotionally cut off during these things. Though that didn't diminish the grief that still popped up with each one, not as he'd thought of each of his step-fathers, but only of one man, the one whom had actually been a proper father to him. Stopping, to glance around his eyes fell on Marcus, and suddenly Blaise was an eight year old little boy all over again.

"It gets easier," he said taking up a stance beside Marcus. True, he didn't know what it was like to lose his own mother, but Blaise did know about the loss of a caring parent.

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Marcus and Blaise and Open

marcedflint
2015-08-10 08:27 pm UTC (link)

Looking over, Marcus nodded at Blaise's words. He certainly hoped that it was true, because he couldn't imagine trying to survive long-term feeling like this. The day had just begun, and he was already ready for it to be over and done with. "Thanks," he said in response, because it was both polite and expected, but also because he was floundering a little for anything else to say. At least with Blaise he wasn't going to be expected to make idle conversation, and the appearance of being occupied would give him a few moments before anyone else attempted to begin speaking to him. He took a moment to reign himself in again, reaching for all the lessons of youth in how to handle any situation with decorum. "I appreciate you being here," he said, which was true enough in the moment, even if Marcus would have preferred to be anywhere but here.

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Re: Marcus and Blaise and Open

dark_blaise
2015-08-23 01:28 am UTC (link)

There wasn't much of anything to say really. His mother had stressed the importance of his presence as if he would have chosen to be elsewhere today. He could have said something about his mother's insistence upon the Zabini family being properly represented but to do so would be equivalent to rubbing salt in a wound. Something Marcus did not deserve though he could think of some he wouldn't have thought twice about quipping off to.

"I had to make sure no one sent you Devil's snare," he glanced at the stand of flowers near the coffin and made note that there really weren't too many others decorating the room.

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	12:30 PM - Guests at Flint Manor marcedflint 2015-08-09 03:39 am UTC (link)
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Marcus and Tristan

marcedflint
2015-08-09 03:40 am UTC (link)

As draining as the service had been, Marcus would have been happy to shut himself up in his childhood bedroom with only his flask upon returning to the manor. But the socital demands of receiving guests meant that he had a breif respite between leaving the funeral home after confirming the arrangements for the private burial tomorrow, and entering the room he'd chosen for guests. He'd taken the time to sit in the kitchen for a few minutes, another few swigs of Firewhiskey to get him through the conversations he was going to be required to have. The effects of the alcohol were familiar, even after so many years - the emotional numbness he was striving for while still managing to walk and talk and think mostly clearly. He could remember them perfectly from his Death Eater days, glad to be able to replicate the state now that he wanted, or perhaps needed, to.

When Rakey advised that the first guests had started to trickle in, Marcus had thanked the house elf, took one last swig from his flask before stowing it in an inner pocket of his robes, applied another charm to mask the alcohol on his breath, and headed upstairs. Fortunately, the first few people he encountered weren't particularly extensive or emotional conversations - condolences from members of the Arrows management, or old business partners of his parents from years before. He circulated as expected, starting to feel as though he might actually be able to get through the rest of this event without emotionally taxing himself any more than he already was. Turning around at the sound of his name, he realized he may have had that thought too quickly and he inclined his head to the latest visitor. "Mrs. Travers," he said quietly, keeping his eyes on the woman who had been such good friends with his mother while trying to ignore the fact that he could see Tristan standing behind her.

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Marcus and Tristan

alliterative
2015-08-24 01:40 pm UTC (link)

Had his mother not been having a good week and been well enough to understand that her friend had died that week, Tristan would not have shown up for Phillipa Flint's service or the reception after. Not that Tristan hadn't wanted to pay his respects. He'd just doubted his presence would be all that comforting or respectful or otherwise appropriate. He was pretty sure Marcus hated him, and he was pretty sure he still hated Marcus, even if that feeling was subdued thanks to Mrs. Flint's passing (it was, after all, a bit hard to hate someone in the middle of his mourning period for one of his parents). There were other negative feelings there as well, all currently subdued, though the most prominent one was anxiety just below the surface of his calm. He couldn't fathom why Marcus would ever want him back in his house, and the only reason he even bothered was because of his mother.

"You look like her, you know," Pearl said, reaching up a hand to press gently to Marcus's cheek. Her smile was soft, tinged with sadness, but she was also sincere. "I am so sorry you have to deal with such loss at your age," she continued, lowering her hand back to her side. She smoothed out her robes and started.

"Oh! I don't know how long ago it was now," she began, putting her hand into her pocket, "but we were having tea, and your mother left this." She pulled out a simple handkerchief with a blot of lipsticked lips stained in one corner. Honestly, it could have belonged to anyone, especially given Tristan's mother's sometimes lacking memory, though he remembered just that morning she insisted it had been Mrs Flint's. "I'll have Fluffy send anything else I find of hers over as well," she said with a smile.

While Pearl spoke with Marcus, Tristan tried his best not to look at Marcus while also trying to maintain a level of polite interest, his hands in the pockets of his robes. That turned into wondering if Marcus were drunk, and, if so, how much, as images passed through his mind. Despite his memory, some things were still jumbled when it came to the war. He knew he'd seen Marcus that year, knew Marcus had been drunk at least part of the time he'd seen him, but not all the details were in the right order. It wasn't something he wanted to think about it -- especially not on such a somber occasion -- but he found his mind trying to compare and contrast the various Marcuses in his head from various points in his own life. How did this one compare to the ones in the past? What were the similarities and differences? And did it really matter if he noticed or not? They weren't friends. They weren't even acquaintances at this point. They were just two young men with Pearl Travers talking between them.

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Bryony and open

goodlight
2015-08-10 09:24 am UTC (link)

Bryony was still reeling from the events of the previous morning. Her father had never doted on her, but it was still hard for her to understand that he had actually disinherited her, and barred her from his family and their home. True, he was traditional, and if she'd really done what her mother had accused her of she would expect him to be shocked - but she hadn't even been given a chance to explain! And now... she had nowhere to live, and only the small income from her apprenticeship, and the only person she would usually rely on was the one person she absolutely couldn't tell. Even if Marcus wouldn't have blamed himself (and Bryony was convinced he would), he still didn't need this extra worry right now.

What little of her attention hadn't been focused on Marcus during the funeral had been focused on making sure neither Iris nor Allegra had come to 'pay their respects' and simultaneously let Marcus know their feelings on what she was sure they would term his selfish and inappropriate behaviour. Fortunately, no one in her family appeared to be here except for herself, for which she was grateful. At Flint Manor it would have been inappropriate for her to stick to Marcus's side the way she'd have liked. It would look like she was putting herself in the position of hostess, someone who either had or expected to soon have the right to welcome others into this house. Instead, she hovered near by, largely overlooked but watching out in case Marcus should need her.

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Re: Bryony and open

the_richard
2015-08-12 05:36 pm UTC (link)

It was another one of those command performance sorts of things. Rich's mother had commanded him to attend the funeral and represent the family. Most likely because the Flints and the Summerbys had never really traveled in the same social circles. He and Marcus had at least gone to the same school, more or less together. That way Pureblood tradition would be upheld, sort of, anyway. To be honest, for all Richard knew, his mother might have been glad the woman was dead, but those traditions still had to be upheld. It was a bloody bore, one of those things you had to do, complete with looking a little sad, keeping that traditional British stiff upper lip at the loss.

So, looking suitably solemn, Rich made the rounds of the gathering in the ballroom, offering subdued greetings and condolences as appropriate while nursing a large bourbon, which was, at least, top shelf. He noticed Bryony standing a little by herself, and stopped at a polite distance to exchange a silent acknowledgement, or conversation if she desired. One never knew at these sorts of things.

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Bryony and Rich

goodlight
2015-08-13 12:22 pm UTC (link)

Though she had no right to act as hostess, Bryony couldn't help stepping into that role a little. If, by doing so, she could reduce the burden on Marcus then it would be worth a little whispered disapproval. After all, at this point what did she have to lose? She didn't know how many of the guests might already know about her exile from her family - and she hoped none of them would mention it to Marcus. But even if it wasn't public knowledge yet, it soon would be, and who then would care that she'd seemed to think too much of herself at the funeral?

"Mr Summerby," she greeted him - struggling to remember his Christian name and glad she had good reason not to use it. "Are you well?" Bryony's feelings about Philipa were so complicated that she'd rather not talk about her, if at all possible.

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Bryony and Rich

the_richard
2015-08-15 02:21 am UTC (link)

"Rich, please," he replied with a slight smile. "Well enough, given this sad occasion."

Bloody hell, he never knew what to say at things like this so he wouldn't come across the complete tosser. This wasn't one of those times he'd planted the guest of honor himself. Or been glad they we're dead. Or even really known the deceased at all. All-in-all, it sucked to be there.

"Hope you've been well yourself. Afraid I've been a bit too busy for most of the social scene this year."

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Re: Bryony and Rich

goodlight
2015-08-17 03:52 pm UTC (link)

"Rich," Bryony repeated, nodding slightly. She was schooling herself to using people's first names more, but it still felt odd in more formal situations like this. In the pub, or around the studio, she was getting accustomed to it. "That's good." It didn't honestly bother her whether Rich felt sad about the funeral - or Philipa's death - but she knew better than to say so.

She nodded, blushing slightly as she blatantly lied. "Oh yes, I'm well. It's been a busy summer. I'm looking forward to a rest soon." Word of her being disowned was sure to get around, but at least for today she could pretend her sudden disappearance from the pureblood social scene was voluntary. "Things usually quieten down when the Quidditch season starts up." Because all the pureblood men wanted to be able to watch the matches, or at least listen to them live.

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Bryony and Rich

the_richard
2015-08-22 03:33 am UTC (link)

Rich chuckled softly. "Not the die-hard Quidditch fan, I'm afraid. Especially after the pasting the Falcons got last season. But the big broom races will be coming around fairly soon. Looking forwards to blowing a little of the stuffy dust off then."

He shrugged, changing the subject to something more appropriate to the occasion. "How are things with Marcus? Sorry to say we weren't really close at school, but I know this sort of thing can be hard on anybody." Like when his younger brother had been killed in a random Death Eater attack during the war. At least then there was revenge, and then doing his part to fight against He-Who-Pushes-Up-Daisies minions to keep him sane - or Danish, anyway. This was just nature taking its course; there was nothing really to be done but go on.

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Bryony and Rich

goodlight
2015-08-24 12:57 pm UTC (link)

In a strange way, Bryony was almost relieved Rich didn't want to talk about Quidditch. It was both frustrating and tiring constantly having to pretend she knew nothing about it when she talked to people she didn't feel comfortable sharing the truth with - which was almost everyone. "You do broom racing?" she asked, curious. She loved flying, although she was a little scared to go fast, and she'd never really had the chance to speak to anyone who raced. "That must be exciting."

She smiled when Rich asked about Marcus, especially when he admitted to not knowing him well. Though the funeral was 'for' Philipa, she was in a place where social occasions no longer mattered, and it was Marcus who was living and breathing and deserved to have people care about and support him. "It's been hard," she agreed. "Philipa was unwell for a long time, but..." She trailed off, and shrugged. "I don't know if it's something it's possible to be ready for."

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Bryony and Rich

the_richard
2015-08-26 08:34 pm UTC (link)

"Since I was a little tyke," Rich nodded. It can be exciting if you're doing it right; pushing the limits for you and your broom. Everybody at the front of the pack will be riding the ragged edge for the whole race." It was on that edge that he he felt more alive then he did any other time since the days of the war.

"You try. But even when you try to plan ahead, it still comes as a shock." Richard's great-grandfather had lived with them for the last few years if his life. Everyone including the old man had known time was short, but Rich still remembered watching as the aged chest fell to never rise again. For all that he was only three at the time it had still made a marked impression on the child he had been then. "In the end, you go on. It's all you can do."

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Bryony and Rich

goodlight
2015-08-28 11:53 am UTC (link)

There were many things Bryony wanted to say about racing, and how exciting it must be to watch, but none of them would come out. Instead, she had to ignore a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She supposed technically she was free to go to as many Quidditch matches as she liked now, or to develop an interest in racing. It wouldn't matter, her reputation was beyond ruined already, what difference could it make? The realisation wasn't as liberating as she felt it should be, so she just nodded, smiling the polite but not truly interested smile her sisters had always worn while their brother talked about Quidditch.

"Yes," Bryony agreed distantly. "You go on." Wasn't that what she had to do, too? Carry on without the family connection that had always sheltered her. She pulled herself out of the deepening bit of despair and self-pity with a little shake. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm distracted today. I just... hope he'll be okay." She glanced at Rich's glass. "Would you like another drink?"

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Bryony and Rich

the_richard
2015-09-01 03:31 am UTC (link)

Richard was a skilled negotiator. He knew the small tells, the little signs as different thoughts went through someone's mind. Although it was a little strange that she would begin to show interest when he mentioned racing and then fade to that look of disinterest that passed for politeness in the upper crust. Why would she try to cover interest; what was the game this time? And, all in all, did it matter?

He shrugged slightly. "The place, the time, I understand." He didn't really. He'd been raised in the tradition of the British Stiff Upper Lip. Never let them sweat, never let them see you cry. And it seemed there were things bothering Bryony as well as Marcus. "With time, I'm sure he will be." Rich shook his head. "Not now, thank you. I really can't stay much longer."

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Re: Bryony and Rich

goodlight
2015-09-11 12:48 pm UTC (link)

Bryony nodded, giving a small, polite but genuinely grateful smile. She knew her share of people who would see a weakness and pounce on it, even in such understandable circumstances as these - and she was relieved that she didn't have to deal with that today, on top of everything else. "Of course," she said, fully understanding that a funeral was far from a fun place to spend time - and that the polite course of action was not to tarry too long and add to Marcus's duties as host. "I hope I haven't kept you."

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Bryony and Rich

the_richard
2015-09-16 12:57 am UTC (link)

The signs were there. There was something more than the usual pureblood politics going on with this woman. Exactly what, he wasn't sure. It wasn't like there we're any signs of physical abuse. The scents of potions and balms that he'd learned in CoMC. The little hitches and stiffness that any trained duelist could see...

Mental abuse? Yeah, well, pureblood and all that. Sometimes hard to tell when you were talking about some of the more inbred lines. Still...

"No, not at all. It was good to see you again, despite..." Rich's half bow was polite and calculated. But he decided to try tossing a lifeline to her. "I'm in town more that not these days. Drop me a line if you'd care to talk of racing, or... anything."

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3:00 PM - Marcus and Greg

marcedflint
2015-08-09 11:33 pm UTC (link)

Some of the guests had seemed to linger forever, until Marcus was practically ready to scream from frustration. He was perfectly capable of playing the role of host, since it was one he'd been born and raised to inherit, but today of all days, it was the last thing he really felt like doing. Once the last witch had finally left, he had taken a moment to ensure he was alone and then nearly collapsed on one of the couches still lining the sides of the room. Closing his eyes, he took a few deep breaths, feeling some of the tension he'd been carrying leak out of his shoulders. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he reached into his robes to pull out the flask he'd had on his person all day, popping the top off to take a long sip.

The burn of the whiskey going down was welcome after the stress of the day, and he reveled in the quiet. Looking down at the floor as he was, he didn't register the fact that there was another person there until a small sound alerted him. Looking up quickly, Marcus was hit with a feeling of dread that he was going to have to continue with the stoic mask of unfeeling politeness. He sighed lightly when he realized it was only his cousin, and Greg wasn't the type to care if he was drinking. Without a word, Marcus held out the flask in offering, glad to at least have the familial solidarity to fall back on.

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3:00 PM - Marcus and Greg

goyle_g
2015-08-10 06:53 pm UTC (link)

Catherine Goyle had kept her son close for most of the day, whether out of her own desire for comfort and companionship after the death of her sister-in-law or because she was afraid to let him navigate the complex social situation alone was unclear. Greg didn't mind - he didn't really have anything to say about Philipa, and Marcus was busy being polite to everyone. Still, when Catherine left he declined to go with her. He didn't know what it was like to lose a mother, but he remembered too well the feeling of being left alone to deal with the deaths of Vince and his father. Marcus shouldn't have to be alone in this big house unless he wanted to - and if he'd rather Greg go away, they both knew Greg wouldn't take offence.

He took the flask Marcus offered, sniffed it to see what he was about to drink and then took a long swallow. He sat down before offering it back, choosing a seat that more or less put him between Marcus and the door. "I told Von to bring some food over," he said. "Did you get it?" Von had, of course, been unable to relay details of who he'd dropped the food off with - but Greg hoped it was either Marcus or one of the manor's elves.

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3:00 PM - Marcus and Greg

marcedflint
2015-08-10 08:16 pm UTC (link)

Marcus nodded at the question as he took back the liquor, and said, "Rakey has it in the kitchen." He was eternally grateful for the house elves, for all the help they'd provided over the last few days, including making sure he remembered to eat at reasonable intervals, even if he wasn't feeling particularly hungry. If it hadn't been for their intervention, it was distinctly possible that he would be trying to survive on nothing but Firewhiskey.

Their voices seemed loud in the large room, after the silence had been permeating it once the guests had left. Marcus hadn't had any particular feelings about this space in the house before, but going forward he was sure anytime he stepped into it, he was going to remember this day and all the associated feelings that came with it. At the moment though, he couldn't bring himself to find the energy necessary to get up and move somewhere else, especially since he wasn't sure where he would go anyway.

He had just taken another sip of whiskey when a voice from behind him made him roll his eyes. "Both my grandsons at the same time, what a rare pleasure," said one of the portraits, and Marcus didn't need to turn around to know it was Alphonse Flint - his father's and Greg's mother's father. In a few moments he was sure the man would initiate a conversation with Greg, who had always been the old man's favorite, and hopefully wouldn't require any input from Marcus himself.

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3:00 PM - Marcus and Greg

goyle_g
2015-08-11 08:39 am UTC (link)

"Good." Greg would probably keep sending Von over with food for a while, it was relatively little trouble for him since all he had to do was ask Von to make more and deliver it to whereever Marcus happened to be at the time. Of course, it probably wasn't needed - the Manor's elves would hardly let Marcus starve, especially now that he was their only family member left to worry about.

Greg turned at the sound of the voice, greeting the man in the painting with a nod. "Afternoon, grandfather," he said, then hesitated. Did you tell a painting you were sorry for the loss of its daughter-in-law? The uncertainty was writ plainly on Greg's face, his mother had never taught him any particular manners when it came to portraits, though perhaps she should have done.

"Still look alike, I see," Alphonse continued, allowing Greg to stop unknotting that particular problem. "I'm glad to see the Flint genes still going strong. I want to see those brows and that nose on my great grandson one day!"

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3:00 PM - Marcus and Greg

marcedflint
2015-08-11 09:38 pm UTC (link)

Marcus couldn't quite help the snort that escaped him at the great-grandson comment - he'd heard enough of that sort of talk for a lifetime from his mother, and he wasn't interested in continuing it now that she was gone. "You'll be waiting a good long while," he muttered before his mental filter could kick in, and then took another swig from the flask to hopefully avoiding anything else.

"You'll be forgiven the attitude today, boy, but don't forget that you're the eldest, you have a responsibility to the family name," Alphonse said.

Looking over his shoulder, Marcus could see the expression on the portrait's face, so similar to the one his father worn when he was a child, right before he'd gotten a smack upside the head for a comment the man hadn't considered appropriate. The frustration he'd kept inside for so long when it came to those expectations boiled at the realization, and he asked, "So, if my sister had lived, would those have been her responsibilities instead of mine?"

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3:00 PM - Marcus and Greg

goyle_g
2015-08-12 11:22 am UTC (link)

Greg listened as Alphonse bickered with Marcus, not sure what to say or how to divert the portrait's attention. By the time he'd thought of something it seemed appropriate to say, things had already moved on and Marcus was talking about a sister Greg had had no idea existed. Alphonse, apparently, was not so hindered. "What use it raking up old history like that?" he asked - seemingly unaware of the irony of a portrait of a long-dead relative scoffing at history. "Your sister would have married, her children wouldn't have been Flints."

"Neither will mine," Greg pointed out, glad of something to contribute to the conversation. "But they'll still be your grandchildren." Greg simply assumed he would have children one day, even if he didn't have the least idea how to go about finding a woman who would want to marry him.

Alphonse leaned forward, obviously interested. "Have you married yet, Gregory? We don't always get all the news from the other branches of the family tree her. Especially lately." Greg shook his head. Catherine Goyle hadn't been particularly helpful in setting her son up with appropriately single women, she'd been too busy with her own courtship. The one that would make her a MacMillan... Greg had enough good sense not to mention that. "Not yet, but I will."

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3:00 PM - Marcus and Greg

marcedflint
2015-08-15 09:48 pm UTC (link)

Greg's addition to the conversation couldn't have come at a better time. Hopefully, Alphonse would get distracted and Marcus wouldn't have to contribute anything more. "Excellent," he heard the paining answer. "You've still got some time to get that all worked out. You, on the other hand," he continued, and Marcus was certain if he'd turned around to look, he would be on the receiving end of a glare, "are starting to push the limits of getting away with still being a bachelor. Just because things didn't work out with the Capper girl doesn't mean that..."

"Say one more word about Bryony and I will hex you," Marcus threatened over his shoulder, cutting off their grandfather.

There was sound that conveyed a dismissal of the comment, an almost undignified snort. "Nonetheless, there is no reason for a man of your age to be single."

"Who says I am?" Marcus snapped back, suddenly furious. He stood up and turned to face the portrait fully, a nervous anticipation in his stomach, similar to the feeling he got before every Quidditch match: the thrill of knowing that the outcome might not be what he wanted but confident in his own abilities to handle whatever came at him.

"Really," Alphonse answered with the beginnings of a sneer. "And just who might have deigned to consider you worthy of affection?"

Marcus paused, thinking of and discarding half a dozen responses before saying calmly and with a hint of a smirk, "No one you'd approve of."

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3:00 PM - Marcus and Greg

goyle_g
2015-08-17 09:42 pm UTC (link)

Even Greg, who was hardly the most observant, knew that Marcus would leap to the defence of Bryony Capper. He wasn't sure whether you could hex a painting, though. Would it do any good? He was still musing on that when Marcus stood and Greg instinctively rose with him, hand going to his wand.

"Marcus," he murmured. Alphonse was dead - he couldn't do anything, and Greg didn't really understand why Marcus was so angry about being expected to continue the family name anyway. Wasn't that what everyone wanted to do? It wouldn't stop Marcus from playing professionally.

And then - out of the blue - Marcus was talking about having a girlfriend, and one Alphonse wouldn't approve of. "Marcus?" Greg asked, baffled.

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