The House of Claycolt
Most of your summer break was spent outside with the basilisk as you tried to get her accustomed to her new surroundings. The outside was still something she was not used to and you tried your best not to overwhelm her. At first, she was cautious, but little by little she managed to get a feel for the new environment. So far, she seemed thrilled and you took note of that, you had nothing to worry about.
The few days you did spend inside, you were practicing your brewing skills to create a potion that would help replenish her eyesight. Naturally, they were healing well, however, you weren’t sure how long it would take for them to repair… nor did you know if she would ever get her full eyesight back. You watched as she collided head-on into a tree as she slithered rapidly around the great expanse of field outside the cottage. You snorted, trying your best to hide the laugh, but failed.
She squinted her eyes. “I’d like to see you try and slither blindly.”
“I promise you,” you said, petting her scales, “that I’m doing the most I can to get your sight back.”
She hummed thoughtfully as she slithered over your legs and relaxed at the touch. “There’s no rush… aren’t you supposed to be relaxing? It is summer break after all.”
You scribbled something onto your notebook, half-heartedly paying attention to her suggestion. “Yeah, I am. I just want to help you.”
Before she could respond, your ears perked as you sensed a presence approaching you. It was warm and welcoming and knew exactly who it was without having to look up.
“So, what have you got there?” A voice said from behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw the familiar cardigan-wearing person that was your dad walk over. His amber eyes met yours as they peered over your shoulder curiously to see what you were doing. Remus crouched next to you to get a better look.
“A... uh — a snake?” You internally facepalmed. You had no idea why you made yourself sound so unsure.
He laughed softly. “You don’t sound sure.”
“I’ve just got a snake,” you said, heart beating a bit faster from embarrassment. “Found her in the forest, she’s quite injured... can I keep her?”
Since she was tiny, like seriously tiny and her petrification gaze didn’t work, your father couldn’t really classify her as a basilisk even if he tried. Aside from the fact that she was now scaled black and had dark mahogany eyes — different from the deep green that she normally was — she looked like a completely normal snake. Non-magical even.
“Well, that’s a funny-looking snake if you ask me.”
You let out a humorous gasp. “That’s not very nice to say. Apologize to her.”
The corners of his lips turned upward just a bit, an airy, whimsical smile. “I apologize Miss... does she have a name?”
You turned to look back at her as she shook her head softly. “Uh, no. I haven’t given her one yet.”
“I think you should give her a rather nice one,” he said before hissing softly from the creaking of his joints as he got up. “Dinner’s almost ready, so don’t stay out too long.” He kissed the top of your head then turned around to head back towards the cottage.
The basilisk slithered around you more comfortably, her eyes fixed on your dad as he walked back into the back entrance of the house. “He’s rather nice.”
“He’s the nicest man you’ll ever meet.” You fixed your gaze on her. “So you don’t have a name, huh?”
“No one bothered to give me one,” she said, her voice almost sad sounding. “Like I said, I was placed in the chamber for one sole reason: to protect Hogwarts. Even if Salazar did give me a name, I can’t remember it.”
“Do you have one in mind?” She shook her head no. “Well, can I give you one?” If snakes had shoulders, she probably would’ve given you a shrug and a ‘go for it’ look.
You thought for a while, going through as many different possible names as you could. You couldn’t just give her any name, it had to be nice sounding. Names were important after all. “How about…” A name came to mind at that moment. “How about Ahira?”
She turned playfully, showing you the underside of her head. “Doesn’t sound too bad… I like it.”
“Ahira it is.”
- - - - -
The sky grew brighter before dimming as the sun began to set. With a simple glance to the coast, anyone could view the sunset as it hid behind the horizon. Ahira was off somewhere playing with a small garden creature she found along the perimeter of the forest. You remained idle on the grass and scribbled some more, scratching certain details that didn’t make sense. You were set on finding a potion that could heal her eyes.
Once dinner was ready, Remus rapped his knuckles on the banister to catch your attention and called for you to come inside. Dinner was relatively quiet, except for the low rock muggle music coming from the turntable. Remus found a few old vinyl records stored at the back of his closet and decided to play one.
“Will the Weasleys invite you for the last bit of summer?” Your dad asked before taking a bite of bread.
You shook your head. “No, Fred and George owled me two weeks ago saying that their dad won a prize trip to Egypt for the summer.”
Remus gave you a soft look, then went back to eating his dinner. “Well, that means I’ll have more time to spend with my fantastic offspring.”
“Wow, didn’t sound sarcastic at all.”
The two of you chuckled. An impatient huff interrupted the two of you. Pooled at the bottom of your chair was Ahira, her mahogany eyes barely visible from the glower she was giving you.
“I think Ahira is hungry.”
“Ahira?”
“Yeah, my snake,” you replied, tossing her a piece of medium-rare meat.
Remus took a look from under the table to see her before giving you a knowing look. “I’ll check the fridge and see if we have anything to give her.” He got up and began looking through the contents of your fridge. “Don’t you think —” he said, his head still inside the fridge, “it’s best if she goes out to hunt in the forest?”
“She kinda likes human food...” you said, but stopped as soon as you realized what you had said and hoped that your dad wouldn’t take it the wrong way. “Bet you it’s much nicer than raw animal.”
He stepped out from behind the refrigerator door and gave you a quizzical look. “Y/N, we basically eat raw meat. I’m sure snakes like her like to hunt.”
“You know what I mean. Plus, hunting live prey could be dangerous for them.” You reached down to pet her head. “She’s a bit of a prat when it comes to food.”
Ahira bumped your hand slightly. “I am not a prat,” she hissed. You retorted humorously in return.
“Y/N?” Your dad’s voice sounded uncertain. That wasn’t a great tone to hear from him.
“Yeah?”
“Can you talk to snakes?”
You stopped prodding a roasted potato on your plate. “Did I never write that to you?”
Remus closed the refrigerator door and placed the piece of salmon on top of a cutting board. “That doesn’t answer my question young lady.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I can,” you said before taking another bite from your food. “I just found out this last school term. You know the whole basilisk running rampant in Hogwarts situation?”
He laughed dryly. “How can I not? McGonagall practically sent me a howler about how foolish you were walking into the chamber of secrets.”
You continued explaining. The first experience, the attacks, the final battle. You did, however, exclude the part where you practically adopted the said basilisk that wanted to murder witches and wizards of unpure blood. Ahira coiled herself into a pool of snake on the floor, she did not like reminiscing about what she was forced to do — what she had once been. When you were done with your story, Remus had finished preparing a plate of food for Ahira and placed the leftovers back in the fridge.
“Anyways, why did you ask?” You wondered carefully. “You’re not bothered by it… are you?” You hadn’t meant to, but your voice cracked just slightly. Was being a parselmouth something that bothered him? It couldn’t… could it?
But then you remembered how the students in Hogwarts treated Harry. After all, being a parselmouth was heavily regarded as a dark trait. Your jaw clenched as your gaze fell from the back of Remus’ head to your near-empty plate.
He placed the knife down with a loud thud and turned to look at you. His eyes were widened in surprise, taken aback by your insinuation. “No! No, I’m not. It’s just…” He grabbed the plate with raw meat and placed it down next to Ahira. She sniffed it and began picking at a piece of fish as Remus sat on the seat he had previously occupied. “Your mother could speak to snakes too, she was a parselmouth. She found it quite difficult sometimes — got certain words confused,” he chuckled fondly at the memory.
“So that’s why I can speak parseltongue? Cause my mom could?” A wave of relief smoothed your anxiety. So it was a familiar trait from your mother? Was her family known to speak to snakes? So many questions flew through your head as you processed the new information.
“Yeah,” he breathed out, his voice soft. “I have something to show you — follow me.”
He got up from his seat and beckoned you to follow him. Ahira was too busy eating to have followed the two of you and stayed in the kitchen. The two of you walked down the hallway and headed towards the library. The dark oak wood doors loomed dauntingly in the dimly lit hallway as you approached them. The doors creaked as Remus pushed them open and continued walking inside. You closed them once you stepped inside.
“Why are we in the library?” You asked, following him inside as he ventured forward.
“I don’t think I’ve ever introduced you to your mother’s side of the family.”
Your voice got stuck in your throat and died there. You had maternal family? Here at the house? Your dad pointed at a portrait settled just above the mantle as if he had read your mind. There stood five people. The two women, who seemed to be the eldest, held hands and giggled to themselves about something you couldn’t make sound of. Sitting on a couch in front of them sat a younger gentleman with a book, he merely waved at the two of you before engaging in his book once more. Sitting beside the young man were two identical women. They both held perfect posture until one cracked a smile and they fell into a fit of giggles; they settled down before conversing between the two.
In entered a sixth figure, a young man, probably the same age, if not younger than the one reading the book. One of the women seated on the sofa — the twin whose hair was pinned up — stood up and walked over to the younger man then placed an endearing kiss on his cheek. Upon seeing the interaction, you realized that the woman appeared older than him, perhaps by twenty years… was she his mother?
“Elaine told me that this was her immediate family.” Your dad’s voice interrupted your thoughts. He pointed a finger at the two women holding hands behind the sofa. “If memory serves me right, those two are your great-grandmothers: Eleanor and Leslie.
“The young man reading the book and the twins are their children: Perseus the III, Adeline, and Adelaide. I can’t tell the twins apart but Adeline —” The woman hugging the boy who stumbled in late waved at the two, “— Ah, well her. She’s your grandmother. The other fellow is Derrin, her son… your uncle.”
You couldn’t help but watch them in better detail now that you understood who they were. The library was practically your sanctuary. You’ve spent hours inside the library for the past however many years you’ve lived here and not once did you ask your dad who they were… now you felt guilty. You could’ve interacted with them better, could have exchanged more words about your family. You supposed that now that you knew, you would try to make up for all that lost time.
Their portrait wasn’t the only one in the library, you’ve seen all the other smaller portraits beforehand and now you wondered what other connections you had with them. Above them, a bit to the left, hung another, much smaller portrait than theirs with a much older couple. Etched on the golden frame were the names Vivian and Robert Claycolt-Stone. Next to them were others upon others, upon others. Some empty frames were littered throughout the library. Those were the ones where each family member travelled to help guide you through the library.
Your eyes wandered over to another portrait that you enjoyed viewing when you were younger. A tall, slender woman with beautiful, dark olive skin and wavy long black hair that cascaded down her waist held herself with such confidence that intrigued you deeply. None of the portraits spoke, but they never had to, they could speak through the words inside books as they guided you through the library. (Or, if they couldn’t convey it through written words, you took it upon yourself to learn sign language just so you could talk to them). The raven-haired woman didn’t speak either, nor did the black panther that stood alongside her. The intimidating creature would circle around her legs and rub itself lovingly from time to time. Sometimes it would yawn lazily or purr at the petting, but not much aside from that.
“Your mother never talked much about her. She didn’t know much except that she and her husband Perseus were the two to start the House of Claycolt,” he explained. At the mention of her name, the lady rectified herself with pride and nodded. The panther watched the two of you carefully with its vibrant yellow eyes.
“Wow…” you were at a loss for words. The people you believed to be strangers were — “... family. Dad, how come you’ve never told me earlier?”
His amber eyes wavered as they looked at you. “I never knew when to introduce you to them. I feel guilty now, realizing how much I was withholding from you, but I thought you were too young to understand. It was a lapse in judgment you can say, I hope you can forgive me.”
You glanced at him from where you stood. “I’m not angry, it’s okay. Just don’t withhold anything else from me again, okay?”
He nodded, his shoulders relaxing an inch or so. “It was selfish of me, y’know… I thought of this as the last thing I would ever have of her, the last thing connecting me to her, but I’m practically surrounded by her every day,” he explained, his voice wavering. “And I still have you.”
You looked away from him to study the portraits a bit more, not used to such an emotionally heavy conversation. “How much did you love her?”
"Oh, I loved your mother so much."
You gave him a skeptical look. “Loved?”
Remus gave you a warm smile while turning to face ahead of him, looking at nothing in particular. “I still do to this day, but it’s a different type of love. You see, your mother and I were young and foolish. She cared for me after my transformations and I didn’t know how to differentiate what she felt for me from basic human decency. I thought I had to love her romantically, give her some kind of passion, but it turned out that I was wrong.
“She loved me all the same as I did her. We realized that we did not have to be together romantically to show how much we cared for each other. We soon parted ways as I still had some business to do, but we stayed in touch. It wasn’t long after that she owled me with the news that she was pregnant with you.” He looked at you, a warm twinkle in his eyes.
“So what did you do?” You asked, your feet padding over the dark oak floor as you walked over to where he stood.
“I basically dropped everything and apparated to her cottage. I helped through the pregnancy and made sure she was well tended to. Your mother was one tough woman, she was ready to take care of you herself, basically told me in the letter, but felt like I should know that I was going to be a father... We were planning on raising you together, to make sure you had both of our support. But —” There was a soft quiver in his voice. You rested your head on his shoulder, nudging him that it was okay to go on. “Then, well, you know what happened — your mother died a year after giving birth to you.”’
You wrapped your arms around his, hugging him lovingly. He turned to look down at you and planted a soft kiss on the top of your head.
“I was terrified, you know. I’m a werewolf and not much was known about werewolf babies or genetics. People could rarely love one, let alone stand the sight of one, it was unheard of. But you proved my worries wrong.”
He was right. You were definitely lucky to have been born a werewolf rather than have been turned. Unlike your dad, you didn’t lose your human mind on the night of the full moon. You changed, of course, shifting into your wolf form was still excruciatingly painful. Pre and post full moon symptoms were still as harsh as ever. No one could explain your intact human mind, not since everyone feared werewolves. No research was published, except for the few articles depicting your kind as gruesome and savage. It was a question without an answer you supposed.
“I wonder what mom would’ve thought of that,” you asked causing your dad to hum in confusion. “About me being a werewolf.”
“Oh, she loved you just as much as she did me — more if I’m being honest.” He smiled at the thought. “She always did, even before you were born. She was ecstatic to meet you and couldn’t wait.”
You smiled and closed your eyes sluggishly. The warmth emanating from your dad as he told you stories of your mother calmed you. The flickering cande light from the library didn’t help with the feeling of drowsiness either. As he shared more stories of your mother with you, you couldn’t keep yourself from wishing that she had lived long enough for you to have remembered her properly. Then again, maybe it would’ve been too painful for you, and found her stories to be comforting.