![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I obtained the forged permits to get Frank into the Caernarfonshire camp to meet with the Morys family. Minerva, we desperately need a line on another secure supply of boomslang skin. With the increased controls that the Ministry is putting in place on certain potion ingredients, Frank is down to his last cauldron of the stuff. Is that one of the items Sirius is trying to smuggle in? At any rate, he went in the guise of the Parish census master, and I was Polyjuiced as his assistant.
We were lucky. They have their own hut--extremely small but at least it was private, which made it easy to put up warding and silencing spells so that we could tell them what we had come to say in confidence. Saunders is their first living child. Mrs. Morys suffered a stillbirth last year (which actually helps us a bit with the cover story.)
The silencing spells turned out to be quite necessary, because they were quite angry and frightened at first, and some furious words were exchanged before Frank got Mr. Morys calmed down enough to listen. We finally managed to convince them to read the letters that Frank was carrying from Alice and the children. Molly, that truly was a masterful idea, to have the older children write, too; I think that parents find it particularly reassuring to have children writing to tell them that they are happy at Moddey Dhoo, and what they're learning. Mrs. Morys particularly lingered over the sketches of Peel Castle that Colin Creevey had enclosed.
They wanted to know what would happen if they said no, of course. Frank told him that in that case we'd have to memory charm them, because of course we are violating the law in order to save children like their son and give them a decent education. We must protect this secret. The Morys nodded slowly. 'If you don't go with us, though,' Frank told them, 'then sometime in the next five to ten years, your son will begin to show signs of magic. When that's discovered, he will be taken away from you to be a slave, and most likely you will never see him again.'
The mother began crying. Frank and I glanced at each other and grimaced; this is really the worse part about trying to convince the parents. 'But if you take him," she said, 'we'll never see him again, either. How can we possibly trust you?'
'You can trust us,' Frank told her bluntly, 'because we're standing here with wands; we could have simply seized him, and you couldn't do a damn thing about it.' Mr. Morys glared at him, and for a moment, I thought he might attack Frank, but thinking of recently painful experiences, no doubt, he didn't dare try. 'But we didn't do that,' Frank went on gently, 'because we're wizards who don't believe any of that bilge about Muggles being inferior. We're asking your permission. We won't take him otherwise. We're putting ourselves in your power by telling you this. And you won't tell, because keeping the secret will keep your son safe."
He took out three rings and asked them each for locks of their hair. A tap of the wand made a lock of the baby's hair grow long enough for Frank to snip it off, too. With a little judicious wand-waving, Frank interbraided the three locks, and a snippet of each thin braid was coiled around the central stones on each ring. 'Put these on.'
The father shrugged. 'The guards will steal them.'
Frank explained that the rings were charmed so that they were the only ones who could see or remove them, and then gave them the lesson on what the colours of the central stone meant about what Saunders is feeling (red for angry, violet for anxious, blue for happy, green for peaceful, etc.) 'There are two stones on Saunders' ring, so he will know the same about each of you. His ring will get bigger so it continues to fit his hand as he grows. If we ever prevail so that Britain is free again, you can use the magic in these rings to find each other again. We will teach Saunders how.'
They hesitated for a long time, looking at the rings and at their baby sleeping in her lap.
'Please, believe in us. We're both fathers, too,' Frank told them quietly, trying to tip the balance. 'And I had to leave my children in the care of others so that I can do this work. This is the best choice for your boy, the only chance, really, he'll have to lead a decent life.'
Slowly, they put the rings on, and Frank and I let out a long, quiet breath. We had convinced them, and all the rest was mere details.
Frank then pulled out the three sheets of charmed parchment, had each of them place a hand in the center of one of them (including the baby), and tapped the back of each hand with a wand. A nicely rendered portrait sketch of each of them appeared on each parchment when they moved their hands away, moving a little, as if in real life. 'We will take these two of you for Saunders to keep. No one but the two of you will be able to see the picture we're leaving for you of Saunders. But it means you will see him as he grows, and you will be able to recognize each other when you meet him again.'
We found the camp's muggle doctor and with a quick application of the confundo charm got him to sign the death certificate. We left it with that grieving young couple, along with two magical rings and a piece of charmed parchment. A ruddy inadequate exchange for the baby boy Frank and I smuggled out of the camp, unless you consider that we also left them with the faint hope that he'll have a chance at a better life because they loved him enough and were brave enough to give him up to strangers.
He has a big appetite, Alice, and a lusty set of lungs. Molly had me send along some sleepers and another batch of nappies for him, along with a potion for that cradle cap. Let us know if you need anything more.
We were lucky. They have their own hut--extremely small but at least it was private, which made it easy to put up warding and silencing spells so that we could tell them what we had come to say in confidence. Saunders is their first living child. Mrs. Morys suffered a stillbirth last year (which actually helps us a bit with the cover story.)
The silencing spells turned out to be quite necessary, because they were quite angry and frightened at first, and some furious words were exchanged before Frank got Mr. Morys calmed down enough to listen. We finally managed to convince them to read the letters that Frank was carrying from Alice and the children. Molly, that truly was a masterful idea, to have the older children write, too; I think that parents find it particularly reassuring to have children writing to tell them that they are happy at Moddey Dhoo, and what they're learning. Mrs. Morys particularly lingered over the sketches of Peel Castle that Colin Creevey had enclosed.
They wanted to know what would happen if they said no, of course. Frank told him that in that case we'd have to memory charm them, because of course we are violating the law in order to save children like their son and give them a decent education. We must protect this secret. The Morys nodded slowly. 'If you don't go with us, though,' Frank told them, 'then sometime in the next five to ten years, your son will begin to show signs of magic. When that's discovered, he will be taken away from you to be a slave, and most likely you will never see him again.'
The mother began crying. Frank and I glanced at each other and grimaced; this is really the worse part about trying to convince the parents. 'But if you take him," she said, 'we'll never see him again, either. How can we possibly trust you?'
'You can trust us,' Frank told her bluntly, 'because we're standing here with wands; we could have simply seized him, and you couldn't do a damn thing about it.' Mr. Morys glared at him, and for a moment, I thought he might attack Frank, but thinking of recently painful experiences, no doubt, he didn't dare try. 'But we didn't do that,' Frank went on gently, 'because we're wizards who don't believe any of that bilge about Muggles being inferior. We're asking your permission. We won't take him otherwise. We're putting ourselves in your power by telling you this. And you won't tell, because keeping the secret will keep your son safe."
He took out three rings and asked them each for locks of their hair. A tap of the wand made a lock of the baby's hair grow long enough for Frank to snip it off, too. With a little judicious wand-waving, Frank interbraided the three locks, and a snippet of each thin braid was coiled around the central stones on each ring. 'Put these on.'
The father shrugged. 'The guards will steal them.'
Frank explained that the rings were charmed so that they were the only ones who could see or remove them, and then gave them the lesson on what the colours of the central stone meant about what Saunders is feeling (red for angry, violet for anxious, blue for happy, green for peaceful, etc.) 'There are two stones on Saunders' ring, so he will know the same about each of you. His ring will get bigger so it continues to fit his hand as he grows. If we ever prevail so that Britain is free again, you can use the magic in these rings to find each other again. We will teach Saunders how.'
They hesitated for a long time, looking at the rings and at their baby sleeping in her lap.
'Please, believe in us. We're both fathers, too,' Frank told them quietly, trying to tip the balance. 'And I had to leave my children in the care of others so that I can do this work. This is the best choice for your boy, the only chance, really, he'll have to lead a decent life.'
Slowly, they put the rings on, and Frank and I let out a long, quiet breath. We had convinced them, and all the rest was mere details.
Frank then pulled out the three sheets of charmed parchment, had each of them place a hand in the center of one of them (including the baby), and tapped the back of each hand with a wand. A nicely rendered portrait sketch of each of them appeared on each parchment when they moved their hands away, moving a little, as if in real life. 'We will take these two of you for Saunders to keep. No one but the two of you will be able to see the picture we're leaving for you of Saunders. But it means you will see him as he grows, and you will be able to recognize each other when you meet him again.'
We found the camp's muggle doctor and with a quick application of the confundo charm got him to sign the death certificate. We left it with that grieving young couple, along with two magical rings and a piece of charmed parchment. A ruddy inadequate exchange for the baby boy Frank and I smuggled out of the camp, unless you consider that we also left them with the faint hope that he'll have a chance at a better life because they loved him enough and were brave enough to give him up to strangers.
He has a big appetite, Alice, and a lusty set of lungs. Molly had me send along some sleepers and another batch of nappies for him, along with a potion for that cradle cap. Let us know if you need anything more.