Private Message to Headmaster Dolohov

[alt_daphne]

Sir,

I really must thank you for joining us last evening. I hope you enjoyed good conversation and good company, and that the celebration reflected on Barty in ways that met with your full approval.

And I must thank you again for allowing me to wear your mother's jewelry to the party. It was an honour to be entrusted with something of such personal sentiment, and the lovely necklace was a perfect compliment to my gown. I shall return it to you in pristine condition.

Best,
Daphne

Comments

[alt_antonin]

The party was magnificent, my dear. I know that Barty is not the most effusive, but I do hope he has been suitably complimentary; you ought to be very proud of the effect you achieved and the skill with which it was accomplished. Thank you for the invitation.

As to Ummi's jewelry, the honour was entirely mine; it was lovely to see it worn again. It's been ... oh, easily twenty years since any of her pieces have seen the light of day, and I was delighted to see them gracing such a lovely canvas. Family was everything to my mother; were she still alive, I am certain she would have made the offer herself. If you are to continue as Barty's hostess -- and, my dear, I most sincerely hope you shall -- I hope you will likewise continue to treat the family's treasures as your own.

(And -- if I may be so bold -- please allow me to say that I am very pleased you and Barty are enjoying each other's company so much. I am well aware most people find him an acquired taste, but I love him dearly, and am always pleased when someone else can see his worth.)

[alt_daphne]

I wouldn't dream of excluding you from any worthwhile gathering, and never you worry, Barty has made his appreciation more than evident. I'm only happy that he enjoyed himself so thoroughly.

Twenty years? Goodness, that puts me in the position of being doubly honoured. (Though two people with our dispositions are liable to go in circles trying to claim who has the biggest honour if we're not careful.)

I look forward to hearing more about Ummi, and indeed the rest of your family. And I shall openly share anything you wish to know about mine, though - of course - the matter is a little complicated.

(It relieves me greatly to know that you approve. More than I can say.)

[alt_antonin]

Ha. That is the trouble of allowing two extroverts with excellent manners to go back and forth with each other, yes. (The joke among my colleagues in America always used to be that I was an honourary Canadian, between the British spelling and the manners: Canadians are scrupulously polite. My retort was always that I did not apologise frequently enough to be Canadian and it was not my fault and a shame Americans feel manners so rare as to remark upon them when they were encountered.)

At any rate. Mother was -- well, it's difficult for any child to adequately describe his mother, is it not? She was of the al-Busiri line -- I don't expect you to recognise the pureblooded lines of other countries, of course, but al-Busiri is one of the five great families of wizarding Egypt; we can trace our lineage unbroken back to the Middle Kingdom. My grandfather, Kareem bin Adnen al-Busiri, fled the country during the unrest at the beginning of this century and brought his family to Russia -- he had business interests there -- which proved to be a poor choice after the Russian Revolution several years later, but was where Ummi (which is Arabic for 'mama'; her given name was Amisi) met Father. He was one of Grindelwald's men, killed in that war when my elder brother Kolya -- Nikolai -- was already in his twenties. (I was quite the surprise; she discovered she was pregnant with me three days before she heard of Father's death. I never knew him.)

She was tiny -- barely five feet, in shoes -- and while every young boy must believe his mother beautiful, many others agreed with me; she was one of the celebrated beauties of her day. She had the fiercest will of any woman I have ever known, and the greatest wisdom. Widowed barely a week, just having discovered her pregnancy, she saw the political winds blowing and realised that anyone associated with Grindelwald would not fare well in the post-war world, and so she packed up her household and brought herself and Kolya to England, claiming that my father had deceived her and seeking asylum. Once she received it, of course, she made certain I was raised to honour my father's commitment, and encouraged both Kolya and myself to Our Lord's service when He took up the cause.

It was a common saying in our family that Kolya was Father's child, and I was Ummi's; she taught me everything she knew about the Arts, as well as all our family-bound magics. (She, too, took her Mastery through the Cairo Conclave in her youth; when I presented myself for candidacy, they were still speaking of her skill.) I am deeply sorry that you will never get the chance to meet her. She would have found you delightful. She knew Barty briefly as my favourite student, when he was your age, but came forth by died of a long illness before Our Lord came to power, shortly after Kolya's death; she did not know him as my son, but I do know that she would approve.

My apologies; I am rambling. It is not often I get to discuss her; I miss her terribly.

And yes, your family connections are less straightforward than one might have thought them a year ago, aren't they? Rest assured that unlike some, I place less weight on blood-family as opposed to heart-family -- Barty is no less my son, by all the familial magics, for having been born not of my blood. As far as I am concerned, Phillip Greengrass is your father as much as Raz is, for having had the raising of you. The familial ties we create with each other over years are often much stronger than those we are born into. Lucius Malfoy is my brother in all the ways that matter, for instance, and would have been even without Our Lord's service to bind us. As was Raz, may his name be written eternally, and so in a certain light I suppose you would be my niece. (Should the connection suit you to claim, of course. As befits an orphan who was childless for so long, I am greedy in claiming kin.)

And please, dear, call me Antonin when we are not in the company of your peers at Hogwarts. I do indeed approve of your relationship with Barty. He has been alone for so long, and had such terrible luck on the field of the heart before that, that I am overjoyed to see him with someone who sees his true worth. That said someone happens to be a witch of such immense talent, poise, and intelligence as yourself is more than a father could ask for. (And now that I have undoubtedly embarrassed you immensely, I shall desist, except to say that if there is ever any way I might make you feel more welcome in our house, or if there are any questions you have about Barty or the family's practices, you have but to say.)

[alt_daphne]

I really know very little about Canada, except that they like to ice skate there. I've got that right, haven't I?

Your Ummi's life sounds like something from a stage play or great novel; though I imagine many pureblood wizarding families would argue their own family histories just as deserving, I know that the Greengrasses, like the Lestranges and many of the other Sacred, are descended from the Celts, so our histories are all rather similar. Geographically speaking, anyway. And I was already distantly related to the Lestranges before I discovered I "was" one.

I would enjoy hearing your family stories in person, some day. It's rare to find people who are able to present facts and history in a manner that is so arresting and fascinating (or maybe I've just come to associate history with Binns?).

And thank you for your kind words about my father. Both of them. I would be nothing but pleased to be regarded as your niece in spirt, albiet one who doesn't know much of the father you call brother, but hopes to learn more as the years come. I consider myself lucky that you and Barty both knew him so well.

I'm not embarrassed - only overcome!