Broken Teacups
Chapter Two: Broken Teacups
Beasy was very frightened and very confused. Mr. Barnes was having more houseguests than Mr. Barnes had ever had before, and Beasy was not sure what Beasy should be doing.
Normally, Mr. Barnes was not having guests, not having media, and most certainly not having aurors. Mr. Barnes was very insistent on that, and Beasy wanted to make Mr. Barnes very happy.
Beasy had been in the Barnes family since Beasy's previous master had died without an heir. Master Barnes had serviced the funeral and taken pity on her. Master Barnes was Mr. Barnes's father, and was ever so nice and thoughtful, but he was a very different wizard from Mr. Barnes.
Master Barnes was a very talkative man, and always had lots of house guests. Master Barnes was very good at being kind and helping sad masters and mistresses, but Mr. Barnes focused more on staying in the cottage or caring for the dead. Beasy didn't like the dead. The ghosts played jokes on her and were always making messes for Beasy to clean up.
Mr. Barnes also had very strange rules about what Beasy shouldn't be bothered doing. Beasy wasn't to be calling Mr. Barnes "Master", for it reminded Mr. Barnes of his father. Beasy should not be cleaning the chimney except once a year. Mr. Barnes liked things to be a bit cluttered; Mr. Barnes thought it was homey. And while Beasy was bothered by this, Beasy wanted to please Mr. Barnes ever so much so there were things she would clean and things she would not.
But when Master Barnes was still alive, Master Barnes would not be having guests if the cottage was not clean. And Beasy still very much wanted the cottage to be spotless for their unexpected guests.
Beasy tried to be discrete. When Mr. Potter drug mud onto the floor, Beasy quietly vanished it before Mr. Barnes could notice. When teacups were dropped, Beasy was more than happy for an excuse to clean the floor once more. Beasy did not like thinking about the graveyard, or what she had seen in it. But Beasy did very much like cleaning. Beasy wanted to be a good elf, and good elves cleaned.
"You're repairing it?" Beasy jumped, not knowing that someone else was in the kitchen. Mrs. Potter was standing in the doorway, looking very weary and kind. Beasy very much liked Mrs. Potter. Mrs. Potter had been very kind to Beasy.
Beasy looked down. Dozens of shards were arranged in order on the kitchen's countertop. Beasy nodded enthusiastically.
"These cups were Mistress' Abigail's very favorite cups. Mistress Abigail would be wanting Beasy to fix them." Mistress Abigail was very much like Mrs. Potter. Mistress Abigail had been very kind, very pretty, and was always liking pretty things.
The porcelain was lined with hand-drawn emeralds and asphodels. Beasy muttered some words, and feeling her magic churn, held one of the cups in her tiny hands. The cup snapped together, leaving a zig zagged mark where magic had brought the largest shards together.
"I'm sorry." Mrs. Potter grimaced, looking wistful. "I didn't realize Mr. Barnes was married. Is she asleep, or…?"
"Oh no, missus. Mistress Abigail passed away many years ago." Beasy felt her voice trembling, and widened her eyes. "Mr. Barnes isn't liking to talk about Mistress Abigail since the mistress's passing. Beasy shouldn't have said nothing." Beasy suddenly had the desire to bang her head against the porcelain in guilt, but decided that would not be the right thing to do, either.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up bad memories. Are the cups ruined?"
"Oh no, Mrs. Potter. They still work, see?" Beasy was happy to have something good to focus on. Beasy snapped her fingers, and the delicate cup filled to the brim, not one drop even peaking through the zig zagged mark. "Beasy likes fixing broken things."
Mrs. Potter seemed happy with this, but sad, too. Beasy wasn't sure what she had done wrong. Mrs. Potter picked up the fixed teacup, running her fingers over the mark.
"I thought you would have just vanished it."
"Oh no, Mrs. Potter. Mistress Abigail was loving these teacups. Beasy would never vanish them just because they were broken. They could never be being replaced."
This didn't seem the right thing to say either, because big fat tears were beginning to run down Mrs. Potter's cheeks. Mrs. Potter put down the cup, wrapping her arms around herself.
"Is Mrs. Potter cold?" Beasy inquired helpfully, but Mrs. Potter shook her head, clearing her throat.
"No, Beasy, but thank you. Just trying to find something to do while James finishes washing up, I suppose. The healer already cleared me."
"Beasy is being very glad that Mrs. Potter isn't hurt. Beasy was very afraid when the coffin was tossed aside."
"Thank you. Just banged up, nothing too terrible." Mrs. Potter remarked, still eyeing the teacup.
"It's hard to imagine that Harry would be attending Hogwarts, already. I just sang him to sleep last night, and now…. maybe he'll still want us, after all this time." She remarked, sadly. "Even if we are banged up and broken."
"Beasy is knowing so. Mr. Harry Potter was saying so."
Beasy was suddenly very aware of Mrs. Potter's attention. Mrs. Potter had seemed sad and wistful before, but Mrs. Potter's eyes were so sharp that Beasy thought she could see into Beasy's soul.
"What did you say?"
What did Beasy say? Beasy was suddenly frightened and unsure of saying anything.
"Beasy is sorry to be making Mrs. Potter sad, missus, Beasy was only trying to-"
"No, no. You're not in trouble, Beasy. What do you mean that Harry was 'saying so'?"
"Mr. Harry Potter was saying so in the graveyard, missus. Mr. Harry was saying he was wishing he could be meeting his parents." Beasy whimpered, still feeling very scared by the look in Mrs. Potter's eyes. For someone who was very kind, Mrs. Potter could be very scary, too.
"You saw Harry." Mrs. Potter repeated, her voice low. "In the graveyard."
Beasy nodded meekly in response, before shaking her head.
"Yes, I mean, no, Beasy doesn't like the graveyard. Beasy doesn't want to talk about the graveyard anymore, please missus. The graveyard is very dark and scary, and the ghosts are always teasing Beasy…."
"Beasy, please. This is very important. Who was Harry with? What did he say?"
Beasy trembled. Beasy didn't want to think about the graveyard. Beasy wanted to think about teacups and chimneys.
"It was dreadful, missus, please don't make poor Beasy talk about it, there was people there. They would have killed Beasy if they had been seeing her, Beasy is sure of it."
"Beasy, you loved Mistress Abigail, right? If you could go back and protect her, you would?" Beasy blinked.
"Of course, Mrs. Potter, missus."
"Harry is like my Abigail. Yesterday, he was crying in my arms, and now-and now-" Mrs. Potter was upset, Beasy could tell, "-now he's almost a teenager. I want to hold him, to comfort him, but I can't Beasy, because some very bad men have him. And I don't know why."
Beasy was quiet for a moment.
"Nobody would believe Beasy, missus. Not even Mrs. Potter."
"Please, Beasy. Just try me."
"Beasy was-Beasy was sleeping, but ghosts are very cold when they move through Beasy, so Beasy woke up. Beasy thought ghosts were playing tricks on Beasy, but Beasy heard voices, and when Beasy went to see….the turban man was talking to Mr. Harry. But Beasy wasn't just hearing the man in the turban, Beasy was hearing the man behind the turban." Beasy whispered in horror, expecting Mrs. Potter to reciprocate. But the young woman didn't understand what Beasy was meaning.
"Behind the turban?"
"The man in the turban was having two voices, missus. One was the man's, the other was another man's. Beasy saw the man in the turban use the ring. It hurt him, missus, oh, it was so dreadful! He shook all over and his hand shriveled! But the other man was still being alive. The other man, he-he-" Beasy squeaked, nearly dropping the fixed teacup before catching it with her magic. She trembled she shook. She cried. "Oh please, Mrs. Potter, Beasy doesn't want to ta-"
"What happened to the second man, Beasy?"
Beasy lowered her head in defeat, trembling. "The other man was being smoke and flying away. Beasy told Mrs. Potter that nobody would believe Beasy. But Mr. Harry was wanting to stay, Mr. Harry told the smoke man that. But the smoke man was telling him to go back, that he be-that he be-oh! That he be killing Mr. and Mrs. Potter if Mr. Harry stayed."
Mrs. Potter blinked for a moment, before turning and walking out of the kitchen. Beasy was hearing Mrs. Potter calling for Mr. Potter. Beasy hummed uneasily to herself. Beasy wasn't sure if Mr. Barnes would approve of Beasy saying these things. Mr. Barnes was never wanting Beasy to say anything, for Mr. Barnes appreciated his privacy. But Mr. Barnes had also invited all of these people here. It was all so terribly confusing.
Beasy gathered the once broken teacups, and flicking her wrist, opened the cabinet door. All of Mistress Abigails' favorite silverware was being there, including the green goblets Mr. Barnes was never wanting her to put out. Beasy never understood why Mr. Barnes wanted things as such, but Beasy was understanding him more than most.
Mr. Barnes was seeming gruff, but Mistress Abigail's death was still hurting him, Beasy knew. Mr. Barnes was still dreaming about the mistress, still having Beasy put flowers on the mistress's grave. But Mr. Barnes was never going himself. Maybe Beasy should be vanishing broken cups. But Beasy was fixing them for the same reason Mr. Barnes wasn't being able to go to his wife's grave. Beasy couldn't be letting that piece of Mistress Abigail go.
Beasy peaked around the kitchen door nervously, watching as two aurors were stepping aside for Mrs. Potter. Beasy cast a quick charm, watching as their boots cleaned themselves. The sun was about to be rising, long shadows stretching across the windowsills. Perhaps Beasy could be making tea for the aurors.
Beasy returned to the kitchen, humming to herself as the emerald teacup glinted in the sunlight. Yes, Beasy would be making morning tea. The aurors would be needing their energy. Beasy was being a good house-elf