Lady Tonks, Lord Potter

Slightly calm before the storm

Lady Calista Greengrass sat in the garden, the remains of a light breakfast on the table in front of her, engrossed in the Daily Prophet. The news was not good. Somerset had been attacked, the excuse given to the Muggles was that a hurricane had caused the destruction, but the Prophet reported that it was the work of giants. Giants, undoubtedly under the command of Voldemort. With a gesture of disgust she cast the paper onto the table, took up her tea, and after a slight warming charm looked out over the manicured expanse of her garden. Voldemort, Death Eaters and giants may be out there somewhere, but at least in her little refuge she could pretend that they didn't exist.

That fantasy did not last long, though, as she heard her daughters squabbling through an open window. Astoria was, if she was honest with herself, being quite difficult these days, especially after she had inadvertently admitted to having a crush on Draco Malfoy at supper the other night. Daphne had set upon Astoria at once, telling dreadful tales of the Malfoy boy until finally Edmund had to wade in and make them stop. Calista had hoped that her daughters would follow her example and be sorted into Ravenclaw but they were too much like their father and had both ended up in Slytherin.

Calista watched a bird land upon a branch and begin to sing, such a happy song, one that could not quite breach the dark thoughts gathering in her mind. Edmund was a Slytherin, but she knew that he was not one of those Slytherins, the ones that had come willingly to Voldemort's banner the first time. No, Edmund was not like them, he was a true Slytherin; ambitious, cautious, one who worked in the background when possible, an upstanding member of the Wizangamot. Oh, how he had whisked her away from her boring family and thrust her into the heady world of the wizarding nobility, something that, to her surprise, she found she enjoyed and was quite comfortable with, her abilities to get on with people and be the perfect Lady Greengrass was something that she rather enjoyed. Something that, if things progressed on their current path, her daughters would never experience. Daphne had told her in letters, and then after returning from Hogwarts, that Voldemort was recruiting from the Slytherin students, that treading the neutral path was soon to be an untenable position. Daphne did not worry her overmuch; the girl was smart, level-headed, willful...she reminded Calista of her grandmother in that respect. Astoria, however...the girl lived with her head in the clouds, dreaming of being a Lady of the Manor. Currently that dream was to be the Lady of Malfoy Manor, a thought which made Calista shudder. If they had only been sorted into Ravenclaw! She sat down her teacup on the table without looking and stared out over the topiary hedges, the rows of dragons that Edmund enjoyed so much, her thoughts flashing quickly, unable to quiet the storm. If what Daphne had said was true, and she had little reason to doubt her daughter, no other houses trusted anyone in Slytherin, Slytherin house was choosing sides, and soon there would be no other way forward for her daughters except to choose whether to be like the Malfoy boy or to go their own way. Going their own way alone, as no one would trust them.

She sat there for quite some time until one of her house elves appeared, an envelope on a silver tray.

"Oh? Thank you, Blip." Calista took the envelop and peered at it. Why would Gringotts be sending her a letter? All the official documentation went to Edmund. She opened the letter and couldn't stop the small gasp. After reading it a second, then a third time she quickly left the garden. She had to speak to her husband.

Edmund Greengrass sat in his office, stocking feet up on the desk and puffed away at a pipe while reading a book. His book on Muggle investing strategies was soon forgotten, though, as his wife came bursting through the doors.

"Bloody hell, Callie, what is it? What'd the girls do this time?"

She shook her head and thrust the letter into his hands. "It's not the girls, Ed. Well, it's Daphne. Read."