Family Outing [OPEN]

[Max Kameren]

"Alright, guys. First, we'll leave flowers for Dad. Then we'll have only an hour at the bookstore before we have to be at Grandma Violet's for dinner. One hour. Looking at you, Evie."

Round emerald eyes glowered up at him from below. Evelyn Kameren did not deem her older brother worthy of a reply, so she did not give him one. She did, however, tighten her grip on his hand, digging the tips of her fingers into his knuckles. "Maaaaax, come on. Hour and a half?"

"What would you prefer, then? Skip Dad, or make Grandma wait?"

"Are you joking?! We aren't doing either of those!" Violet whipped her brother with the bouquet of sunflowers in her hand. Max laughed and caught it, pulling it out of Violet's hand. "Evie will just have to speed-read to figure out what she wants to get."

"That's not how speed-reading works."

Max smiled quietly, enjoying the routine rhythm of his sisters' bickering. About once a month, Max would pick his sisters up an bring them into London to see the muggle side of their family; their grandmother, Violet, was over ninety years old now and loved getting to see her grandchildren, especially her granddaughters, especially especially her granddaughter for whom she was a namesake. It was nice for Max, too; with Violet freshly fifteen and Evie only a first year Ravenclaw, there wasn't a lot of subject matter the three could relate to each other over. With a set schedule of events and their grandmother's vibrant personality, there was never a dull moment when the Kameren children were together in London.

The trio turned the corner around the entrance to Highgate Cemetery, wandering and kicking leaves as they meandered the route to Kris Kameren's headstone. It was a familiar route, especially for Max; every now and then, when he would have time to walk alone in the city, he would come this way. Maybe it was some strange spiritual presence of their parent, but Highgate always felt slightly warmer than the rest of London to Max. It was always somehow welcoming.

When the headstone came into view, though, Max stopped. He held out an arm for each sister, stopping them behind him. Violet opened her mouth in protest, but the words stalled when she saw what Max was seeing: what could only be described as a bed of flowers on their father's grave. At least six different bouquets piled at the base of Kris Kameren's headstone, with decorative pebbles places carefully in a circle around it. What was this?

"Well, this is weird." Evie circled the headstone, counting the bouquets. "Max, do you know who was here?"

"Alex, maybe?" Violet took their bouquet from Max and knelt down to place it on top of the others, pausing to search the other flowers for tags. No one thought it would be Alex; though he showed his love for his extended family in his own ways, he was hardly a bouquets-of-flowers kind of guy. "There aren't any names. It's nice, but why now? Three years later?"

"I don't know..." Max's brow furrowed in thought as he watched his sisters investigate. His bright green eyes zoned into the etching on their father's headstone as he felt for any auras near them in the cemetery. He stepped back and turned, watching keenly as footsteps rounded up the path.

ooc: Was going to make this a SYMHM, decided to turn it into a weird open thread, probably for a Flux victim who knew Curse? I don't know, thought it'd be fun!

[Emory Williams]

Arriving in a world that thought you were dead was a weird thing. Especially when it felt like you had been gone mere seconds. But being 17 years in the future was something Emory could get used to. He could admit that it was nice being in a world that was not torn apart by shadows, demons and wars.

What he couldn’t get used to, were the things he’d missed and Curse Kameren’s death was one of the big ones. He’d admired the younger man. They’d gone through the same trauma at fifteen, though Emory’s had been three years before Curse. Losing one’s family did something to you. You could either let it break you, control you, or you could take that tragedy by the horns and use it. Curse Kameren had certainly not let it control him.

They’d known each other in Hogwarts, though Emory had been a few years ahead. The other man had been fiercely intelligent and they’d ended up spending quite a bit of time together. But then Emory had left, focused on his revenge and the years had passed with only the odd bit of communication.

When Emory received the news about darkness rising once more in the UK, he had returned at once and immediately sought out his old friend. A lot had changed in the years apart, but the following battles reaffirmed the friendship.

The success at the Final Battle had been great. Emory had looked forward to celebrating the end of all the gore, death, and destruction with those he loved. And now he’d missed all that. He’d missed a lot of things it had seemed. Weddings, children and finally death. He’d lost those good years and the thought made him both sad and angry.

Drinking had seemed the only solution. It had worked somewhat, numbing him enough to give him time to figure shit out. But he was still faced with reality and he didn’t really know what to do when it came to getting closure with those he had never gotten to say goodbye to.

Emory had found himself coming to the cemetery for a few days in a row now, trying to say goodbye and find a way to leave the past in the past. He’d fallen back on his Druidic upbringing, arranging rocks in patterns and symbols, gathering wild flowers into bouquets and hoping somehow, it would translate into goodbye.

And here he was again. Still not feeling like he’d done Curse justice. But as he approached this time, he heard voices. He paused briefly, not wanting to interrupt. A man was standing there watching his approach, two young girls with him. Emory frowned, but then moved closer. He knelt to check his previous flowers, reviving them with his touch and nudging a stone back into it’s correct place.

He stayed there, still crouched by the headstone for a few seconds before remembering he had company.
“He was a great man,” he said hoarsely before standing up to greet the others in his presence. “Sorry if I intruded. I’ve been…” he struggled for the right word, “away. My name’s Emory. Curse was a good friend of mine. How did you know him?”

[Max Kameren]

Max regarded the unfamiliar aura coming up the path with a passive skepticism. Most of the time Curse’s visitors were here with good intentions, but there were a few incidents in the first year of Max being followed by Ministry workers or press. Since the Return a few days earlier, Max had gotten a couple requests for comment from journalists who were looking to connect the Kameren family’s part in the Demon Wars to the Flux. He’d denied any such requests, but with his sisters with him Max wanted to be sure they wouldn’t be bothered.

As the man approached, Max straightened and watched him warily. Violet noticed Max’s posture and stood next to him, loosely grabbing his sleeve. “Calm down, guard dog. He’s probably just here to see dad too.” Her older brother didn’t move or acknowledge her chiding, just watched the man’s approach with his analytical green eyes. Their dad’s eyes, the ones they all had.

When the man came closer, a sudden spark of recognition lit in Max. Why did he know this person? He looked to be of a similar age to Max, was it from Hogwarts? His aura was unfamiliar. There were no ulterior motives there, though. Just sadness. The Potions Master relaxed slightly as he passed, feeling reassured that this man wouldn’t accost them.

Evie suddi noticed their guest when he crouched down on the opposite side of the headstone from where she was, straightening the rocks she had moved in her examination. Her eyebrows raised when he revived the flowers, turning to Max and back to the man. “You’re not supposed to do that here, this is Muggle - ”

“Evie.” Violet hushed her sister, nudging her back with her foot. “Let him do it.” The three Kameren children watched quietly as the man rose.

“He was a great man,” he said hoarsely before standing up to greet the others in his presence. “Sorry if I intruded. I’ve been…” he struggled for the right word, “away. My name’s Emory. Curse was a good friend of mine. How did you know him?”

“Emor – “ Max started, but was cut off by Violet.

“We’re his kids.” She cocked her head up at the man, her bright green eyes inquisitive. “How did you know him?”

“Are you a Ravenclaw?” Evie asked, moving to stand between Max and Violet. “Did you go to school with Max?”

“Emory Williams, I remember you.” Max continued through his sisters’ chatter. His mind flashed momentarily to the old Godric’s Hollow home. Before the battle, he’d been there. He’d been there too, during the fight that collapsed their home. Max had been much smaller then, but he remembered him now. His eyebrows raised in surprise as he looked the man up and down, realizing he didn’t look a day older than when Max last saw him. “You were in the Flux.”

[Emory Williams]

“We’re his kids.” One of the girls said as she cocked her head up at the man, her bright green eyes inquisitive. “How did you know him?”

“Are you a Ravenclaw?” The other asked. “Did you go to school with Max?”

Emory couldn’t help but chuckle at the girls. Now that they’d said it, he wondered how he’d missed it. Those were definitely the Kameren eyes. Then again, he’d never gotten to know Curse’s children, though… he looked again at the other man. Now only a few years younger than himself, there was only one person this could be. It was always a shock, meeting someone who he had known before and seeing them so much older. The last time Emory had seen this man, he had been the same age as the girls next to him.

“Emory Williams, I remember you. You were in the Flux.”

The druid nodded his head in acknowledgement. “Yeah, that I was.” He said solemnly. “And you were just a small boy last time I saw you Max Kameren. I’m surprised you remember me.”

He looked back down at the girls, smiling again to lighten the mood, “Ah, I didn’t go to school with Max, no. I went to school with your father. And I was a roaring Gryffindor.” He said, growling and grinning at them. “What are your names then? I think I heard someone say Evie… so that must be you,” he pointed at the younger child, “And you?” he continued looking at the other girl. “No no, wait, let me guess.”

He paused for dramatic effect, scratching his head. “Claire. No no. Too plain. Cassiopeia? Aurora? Venus?” he shook his head. “I give up! Will you please tell me?”

[Max Kameren]

“Yeah, that I was.” He said solemnly. “And you were just a small boy last time I saw you Max Kameren. I’m surprised you remember me.”

A gruff laugh escaped Max and he finally smiled, relaxing knowing their visitor was a friend. “Difficult year to forget.”

“Ah, I didn’t go to school with Max, no. I went to school with your father. And I was a roaring Gryffindor.” Evie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously: how had this man gone to school with their father, when he was so young? “What are your names then? I think I heard someone say Evie… so that must be you,” her face didn’t change when he named her, still confused by his youth; Evie had heard stories about her parents’ friends who disappeared, but she was born six years after the disappearance. “And you?” he continued looking at the other girl.

“No no, wait, let me guess. Claire. No no. Too plain. Cassiopeia? Aurora? Venus?” Violet arched a suspicious brow at him as he guessed, barely holding back the amused smile on her face. Even with his distinctly Welsh accent Emory spoke with a playful speedy cadence that reminded her of Curse. He was handsome, too; Max elbowed her at the thought and she laughed. “I give up! Will you please tell me?” 

“I’m Violet.” She bowed her head slightly with a friendly grin. “And I’m a Gryffindor, too.”

“How did you know dad, then?” Evie’s repeated Violet’s earlier question, brow furrowed. The age discrepancy was still bothering her, her tone suspicious. Max shook his head at his youngest sister’s tone; her suspicion of Emory wouldn’t stop until he satisfied her, he knew. The Kameren stubbornness was strong in her. “Tell us about him, when he was in school.”

ooc: Visual reference for the Kameren sisters.

[Emory Williams]

“I’m Violet.” She bowed her head slightly with a friendly grin. “And I’m a Gryffindor, too.”

“Ah, well that is the best House,” Emory said with a wink. “Lovely to meet you Violet.”

“How did you know dad, then. Tell us about him, when he was in school.”

Emory turned back to the younger sister and paused. She was suspicious of him and he could guess why. He didn’t really look his 31 years as it was, but he should have been closer to 50 if life had not thrown him for a loop. It would be confusing to a young girl why a man who looked closer to her brother’s age was claiming to have been at school with her father.

“We were good friends your dad and I. It’s hard to sum up your father but I could share one of our famous stories if you’d like?” He looked at her encouragingly, eyebrow raised in question, asking her if she’d enjoy that.

“I suppose you know that your dad was a great explorer and there was not a single place that he did not know about by the time we left Hogwarts. I found him once having dinner with one of the portraits. When I asked him what he was doing, he told me that the lady in the painting knew of a tunnel from the castle to the Greenhouses. Not terribly exciting but it did come in useful when it was pouring with rain and we had Herbology. Or when we needed some plant ingredients for potions or the like.” He said before pausing remembering who he was talking to, “That’s wrong though. Don’t steal,” he said, pointedly looking at both children and giving Max an apologetic glance.

“Anyway, where was I? Ok. So the Forbidden Forest… as its name suggests, is Forbidden. Which to Curse meant we should absolutely go camping one weekend to properly explore it. I have a special interest and talent in plants so I was game. It was supposed to be a group of us, but the others all conveniently found excuses so it ended up just being us. I actually don’t know how your dad convinced the teachers to let us ‘leave’ for the weekend but by that point most of the staff tended to just roll their eyes and accept that he would have an answer ready for whatever issue they could find in his plans. He was a bit of a smart alec like that, you dad, but I’m sure you’re much better behaved…” he said with a conspiring smile. If the Kameren blood ran true, Emory would bet everything he owned that all of Curse’s children were an absolute handful when they put their mind to something.

“So, Curse and I wandered into the Forest and everything surprisingly went ok the first night. It was actually a little boring. It was the second day when we encountered a herd of centaurs that was interesting. You might not know it, but Centaurs do not like humans and us men are even worse. Something about us being too proud which is completely nonsense of course. But regardless, we found ourselves surrounded, arrows pointed our way and even your father’s quick thinking and silver tongue couldn’t get us out of trouble this time. It was only when they demanded we tell them who we were that things took a very different direction…”

He looked towards Max, suddenly remembering where they were. "Shi--fty Wizards?!” he exclaimed, trying to correct his bad language quickly, “I’m sorry. Here I am rambling when you must have better things to do than listening to an old Wizard rambling...”

[Max Kameren]

Over the course of his story Emory managed to enrapture all three of the Kameren children, from the youngest to the oldest. The man’s insight into their late parent was relatively unparalleled; Curse hadn't been much of a storyteller. Even when he shared an anecdote it was usually a terse, singular statement. Emory Williams was one of Curse Kameren’s few living old friends who knew him before he was ‘the’ Curse Kameren.

“He was a bit of a smart alec like that, you dad, but I’m sure you’re much better behaved…” he said with a conspiring smile.

“She’s worse.” Violet’s eyes flashed to her younger sister, who glared back at her but was unable to protest. Curse had known there were rules and ignored them; Evie blew past the concept of boundaries without it ever occurring to her that they were set in place. The many, many citations for underage magic piling up at the Kameren home in Godric’s Hollow were proof of that. It would only get worse when she went off to Hogwarts in a few weeks, surely.

“So, Curse and I wandered into the Forest and everything surprisingly went ok the first night. […] It was only when they demanded we tell them who we were that things took a very different direction…” 

“What happened?!” Evie barked as he trailed off, hanging on his every word. Max smirked as he felt the urgency in her aura spike in a way the girl-genius rarely experienced.

He looked towards Max, suddenly remembering where they were. "Shi--fty Wizards?! I’m sorry. Here I am rambling when you must have better things to do than listening to an old Wizard rambling...” 

“No I want to hear more!” Evie grinned, looking up between Max and Emory. “Max, can we skip the bookstore today? Please?”

His brow furrowed and he looked down at his sister with a wry grin. “Skip the book store? Who are you?” She shrugged apologetically at her older brother before returning her attention to their exciting new acquaintance.

“I know,” Violet chimed in, a grin growing slowly on her lips as the group’s attention turned to her. “You missed dad’s adult life, didn’t you? Max’s knowledge picks up where yours drops off. What would you like to know?”

Max arched a brow at Violet before shrugging; Evie wasn't going to let Emory leave anyway, they may as well reciprocate. His eyes darted towards a worn stone bench on the path opposite Curse's headstone where the group could sit. He could tell Emory was a bit uncomfortable carrying on conversation over the bones of his friend. Though something in the back of Max's mind told him, wherever he was, his dad would have appreciated this chance encounter.

[Emory Williams]

Emory was quiet as the family discussed their options, not wanting to intrude any more than he already had. It felt like Fate had guided him to them that day and that he might finally be able to accept the lost days with his close friend but if they had other plans, he wouldn’t get in the way.

“I know,” Violet chimed in, a grin growing slowly on her lips as the group’s attention turned to her. “You missed dad’s adult life, didn’t you? Max’s knowledge picks up where yours drops off. What would you like to know?”

Emory smiled. That sounded like an excellent plan but first... “Well let me finish my story first and then I’m sure I can think of lots of questions to ask all of you. I’m slightly worried she might curse me if I don’t hurry up,” Emory said with a playful look at Evie. “Shall we move to that bench first if we’re going to stick around?”

The druid walked over and sat down with a contented sigh. “Ok, where was I? The centaurs…” he paused, collecting his thoughts together again before launching into his tale. These were Kamerens, he could tell them the full truth of his story. “So my actual name is Emory Melyonen,” he explained, “and I come from a long line of Druids. Which was lucky for us as centaurs like us druids you see? We have this long tradition of helping them with the land while they help us with the stars. We can also do cool tricks like this.”

He looked around to make sure they were alone, before waving his hand over the ground, and producing a bunch of flowering violets for one sister and a small bunch of colourful wildflowers for the other. He gave the flowers to the girls with a flourish before continuing his narrative. “They made me do several such tricks to confirm I was who I claimed to be, and we then spent another fifteen convincing them that your father was an OK guy too. Finally the centaurs lowered their bows and led us further into the forest. And what we got to see, well it was amazing. Few men get to see the true dwellings of the centaurs, they’re too protective of their families and much too proud to let lesser men see what they have achieved.”

“To be honest, they’d only taken us there because they needed help. Their water source was drying up and they were struggling to grow much of anything.” There had been a long discussion over the lack of druids too but Emory didn’t feel like going into that subject. Too many of his kin and friends had been killed in the past few decades. No today, was a celebration of Curse’s life, a chance to remember him fondly and share stories with others close to him. “I was able to fix the plant problem, they just needed a bit of a stern talking to really, but my skills with water are rather limited. Of course your father stepped up for that. Not much your father couldn’t do was there?” Emory smiled fondly, lost for a few seconds in memory. “After we’d fixed the problems, the centaurs relaxed completely, let us stay for the evening. It’s a memory I’ll never forget. We were truly blessed that weekend with the sights we saw and the food we ate. And all because your father had the mad idea to go camping in the Forbidden Forest.”

He had been intentionally vague on some of the points, hoping that he’d gotten through the awe of the moment without giving too many details. The centaurs were private people, rather like his own and he wouldn’t want to break their trust. He smiled jovially at the Kamerens. “So was that enough to convince you Evie Kameren or shall I have to work harder?”

“As for what I’d like to know, I’d love to hear a story of Curse being a dad. I was around for some of his time with you Max, but those were dark days. How was he when things settled down and there was some measure of peace?”

[Max Kameren]

The Curse Kameren Emory described wasn’t the Curse his children ever got to see. In their minds there was never a Curse that didn’t come with the baggage of his scarred past dragging him backwards. There had been a Curse who wasn’t sick, who didn’t have his anxieties and rituals. At one point he’d been an idiot kid, camping in the Forbidden Forest and stumbling into an adventure. For Max at least, it was comforting to know that version of his parent existed.

It was nice getting to watch his younger sisters, always so skeptical like their analytical parents, be enamored by Emory’s story. These two were not the bedtime-story kind of kid. This was rare. Max paused to watch them towards the end, enjoying their taught, attentive auras.

“So was that enough to convince you Evie Kameren or shall I have to work harder?”

A small smile fought its way into the corners of Evie’s lips despite her best efforts. She snorted, keeping her eyes down on her shoes. “It was alright, I guess.” Max shook his head.

“As for what I’d like to know, I’d love to hear a story of Curse being a dad. I was around for some of his time with you Max, but those were dark days. How was he when things settled down and there was some measure of peace?”

The Kameren sisters turned their auburn heads up to their brother, who leaned against a ledge at the end of the bench. “Hm.” Max stroked his beard as he thought. This was a deceptively hard question: for most of his life with Curse and all of his sisters’ lives Curse was sick, working, or a combination of the two. He was a loving but inattentive father, a fault he acknowledged and punished himself for, Max knew. Curse tried his best, but never seemed to see his time as his own; to him, his immense mental and magical gifts were paid for by the work he did. What he wanted in his personal life always took a back seat.

“Ah! I’ve got one.” Max smiled as a memory sparked in him. “I’m sure you know, dad was never fond of brooms. He didn’t like heights generally, but the idea of dangling hundreds of feet off the ground on nothing but a wooden stick was his nightmare.” Max nudged Violet’s shoulder as he spoke, pushing her like dominoes into their youngest sister. “When he was Headmaster it got slightly better because he had to attend all Quidditch games. It became sort of a desensitization therapy for him, I think.” Max shrugged. “Then… Violet made the team her first year.” A loud laugh escaped Violet at her mention and Evie giggled; neither had followed what story Max was going to tell. There were simply too many Curse-hates-brooms stories in their family to tell. “He’d had about six years of practice with his broom-anxiety, but when she became a Chaser he threw all that progress out the window and started over at square one.”

“So, her first game. Gryffindor-Slytherin, the classic. They let him sit in the family box with us, probably to get him away from the faculty. He spent the entire game on the edge of his seat, teeth clenched. Smoked a pack of cigarettes in the span of a two-hour game. I’ve seen dad in every kind of high-pressure situation. And I’ve never, ever seen him as stressed-out as he was watching Vi take off on her broom in that game.” He shook his head, chuckling.

“Do you still have the picture?” Evie asked.

“The – oh, right! I might actually.” Max pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, sifting through his few muggle bills until he stopped on a small, square magical photo. He passed it down to Emory via his sisters, both grinning at the image.

It was a simple, black-and-white magical photo taken in the wooden Hogwarts quidditch stands. Arianna sat with seven-year-old Evie clinging next to her, smiling wide with eyes to the sky in Gryffindor scarves. Max was in the center holding the camera at arm’s length, but his head was cocked to the side to direct the viewer’s attention to Curse on the far right. The usually gaunt, intimidating figure of their father was crumpled on the bench, watching the match in the sky through cracked fingers covering his eyes. The motion of the photo started when Curse’s eye caught the camera lens and the older wizard reached to bat down Max’s hand. It was easy to read Curse’s lips admonishing his son as the rest of the family laughed. It was one of Max’s favorite pictures of their family. It wasn’t well staged, but it caught their dynamic perfectly.

“After that first game I started spiking his morning coffee with Calming Draught on Quidditch days and he eventually got better.” Max grinned, taking the photo as it was passed back to him. His eyes lingered on it for a second longer to watch it play back before he replaced it in his wallet.

“Did you fight with dad in the War?” Evie asked, breaking the jovial mood of the conversation with a new question.

Max grimaced. He wasn’t quite sure how much Emory knew about Curse’s mental state during the Demon Wars, but it wasn’t something Evie needed to know about quite yet. To his sisters, their dad was still the infallible hero of the Demon Wars. They didn’t need that image broken quite yet. He made eye contact with Emory over them, shaking his head curtly.