July 2025
The summer sunshine rose high over the highlands of Scotland, bathing every blade of grass, every stone-wrought structure, every bleating sheep and every crowing fowl in its golden glow. It shimmered across the lightening skyline, creeping in through windows that, beyond the glass, would not restrict it with thick curtains. The breeze was light, carrying the songs of the birds that flitted and floated around the grounds of the manor that had been erected a century or so before by Lord Farrington*, a navy veteran of the First World War and a favourite of Mary of Teck at the time of her husband, George V’s, rule. It was a mansion comprised of Edwardian architecture, the Lord not at all fond of the architecture that was rapidly becoming popular at that time. No, he preferred some sense of tradition – but not the Victorian perception of such things.
Elijah Krum rose some hours later when he could not bring himself to ignore the birds any longer. His children were away, their grandmother having taken them south into England, but especially south into Hampshire, where they’d spend the day exploring the county and all it had to offer – which meant they’d end up in a garden pub where his grandmother and his cousins would sit with sweet wines, idly watching his children as they ducked and dived around the play area. He was alone for the best part of the day and would not be joined until evening. He did have some company though; that of two fugitives one of whom the Ministry was looking for, the other they assumed had passed on and both were as bad tempered as each other. They got on splendidly, though.
That much was clear from the headline on the front cover of the Daily Prophet.
Elijah eyed Athena Goyle from over the top of the newspaper as she carefully picked through the fruit bowl that one of the House Elves had sat at her elbow. She looked much healthier than she had done when she’d come to him – much healthier than she’d ever looked, in fact. Her cheeks were plump, flushed with the heat that blistered through the house, only relieved by the slight breeze that danced teasingly across their skin every once in a while. Curiously she still seemed to retain that hollow, willowy look that he remembered so much about her and no matter how much the sun persisted against her skin, she still remained as white as a sheet, her dark hair accentuating her paleness and adding to her rather terrifying persona.
Dropping the newspaper onto the table so that the headline was visible, Elijah raised an eyebrow at Athena. She twitched, her eyes widening a little and her lips curling as she took in the title and the picture of the family that had been so brutally murdered. Wizards, the headline claimed; Death Eaters. Athena brought her eyes up to meet Elijah’s and a smile, Elijah noticed, teased at her lips. She was proud of herself. With a heavy sigh, Elijah ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, trying in vain to tell himself that she knew better. He knew she did but she had her problems with Muggles just like every other Pureblood in the world – it seemed only she and a select few were interested in showing them just how worthless they were.
“The third this month.” Elijah stated calmly as Athena lifted a glass of orange juice to her lips. She shrugged slightly and placed the glass down before taking her napkin from her lap and rising to her feet. “Athena, we have to talk about this. You can’t just go around-”
And with that she was gone, leaving Elijah alone and frustrated. His own grumblings were not heard by the House Elves that were quick to tidy away her things and prepare another seat should anyone see fit to join them. Elijah scoffed and got up, throwing open the patio doors and stepping out onto the raised patio, placing his hands on the wall to peer over at the grounds he lorded over so well. The woman drove him mad and she knew it. What she got up to was none of his business but he knew that should she ever be caught he would be implicated in her nonsense. Athena thankfully appreciated the need to be subtle.
And with a huff, Elijah lit a cigarette, shaking his head as he resigned himself to the fact that it would be yet another strenuous morning; and Felix wasn’t even up yet.
* Yay for fictional people!