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Old Friend	By : Prosperosdaughter Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3803 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: JK Rowling and her associates own Harry Potter. I make no money from my stories.

Chapter List
- 18
- 19
Disclaimer: The Potterverse is owned by JKR.

Wandsong and Idris Lydiard and his Pack are all mine.

Firstly, I'm so sorry it's taken so long to update. Our house was flooded in the storms in December and I lost my laptop (amongst other things). It's been a complete nightmare. Anyway, we've now relocated and backup has restored most of my plans and chapters. So – onward!
Warning: M/M. Don't like, please don't read.

Recap:
"Come. Rest here the night. Tomorrow, we'll see you as far as the port for Ireland," said Alphard, his hand extended in greeting to the first family. The man looked shocked beyond words, his eyes flickering to all who gathered to welcome them as if his world had been broken irretrievably. It was his wife who spoke.
"Thank you. Oh thank you," gasped the first woman, her weary eyes sparkling with tears.
Angharad smiled as she introduced herself.
"My manners," said the woman, tearily. "Forgive me. We've … I just can't believe …"
She composed herself and wiped stray tears from her cheeks and stood straighter, her hands proprietorially on her two smallest children's shoulders. "These are our children, Maisie, Ellie and Alfred. My name is Mary, and this is my husband, Reg – Reg Cattermole."
But Alphard had stopped listening as his breath caught. He was looking at the young woman in Auror robes, shepherding the others along – a young witch with bright pink hair.

This chapter dovetails with chapters 114, 115 and 116 (to be posted shortly) of YWNKM.

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Chapter 19: Arrivals & Departures
"Wotcher, Uncle Alphard!"
Tonks flew at Alphard as soon as she saw him and wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting her feet in the air.
"Nymphadora," he laughed, and disengaged from her, still smiling, her difficulties with Lupin forgotten in that moment of her pleasure at seeing him. "How did you get here?"
"I was going to work when all these people came out of the Ministry, saying they'd been released from the Commission's trials by Runcorn!" she said breathlessly. "Once I spoke to some of them, I realised Harry had somehow got them released and I had to get them to safety! Remus said there'd be sanctuary here – we just had to make our way here. It hasn't been easy! Only some have wands – none of the Muggleborns – and the Floo is under surveillance," she exhaled breathlessly and smiled broadly, "but we're here now."
"When was all this?"
"Two days ago," she said.
"And this Harry would be Harry Potter?"
"Yes," she replied. "I've no idea why he was in the Ministry, posing as an official. He's Undesirable no. 1, you know! But he and his friends got all these people out. It must have been him because Hermione – that's his Muggle-born friend - was mentioned by name."
Alphard shook his head in confusion, the names she was mentioning meant very little to him.
"Sorry, uncle," Tonks laughed, a pretty tinkling sound. "I forget you're so out of touch with Wizarding politics." Tonks's eyes became a pacific shade of blue as Alphard smiled down at her.
"Let's get our visitors settled in then we can talk."
Tonks nodded and Alphard turned his attention back to the fifteen refugees introducing themselves to Angharad and helped her to lead them to his tent to rest and eat.
AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL
Angharad and Roberta helped to pass out broth and bread to each of the refugees who gratefully received their first hot meal in days. Idris noticed that Bobby sat down between the witch named Mary and her son Alfie and the boys began a tentative conversation. As they ate, Alphard and Tonks duplicated the cot in his tent several times so that there would be enough beds for the refugees. Alphard couldn't help but note that only some of the refugees had wands – the Muggle-borns had had their wands confiscated at the Ministry pending their hearings.
As they finished Conjuring blankets and pillows, Lupin entered the tent.
"Alphard, where's Idris? I've spoken to -" He came to an abrupt halt on seeing Tonks. "Dora!" he gasped. Although Lupin quickly schooled his expression to hide his alarm, Alphard saw the flash of anxiety in Lupin's eyes. Nor could he turn a blind to the hopeful look his great-niece cast at Lupin.
"Remus!" she exclaimed happily and smiled. "Did you hear about the escape from the Ministry?"
Lupin nodded, his eyes darting to the people crowded in Alphard's tent, a smile of greeting fixed on his face. The refugees all looked up to Lupin as Tonks excitedly told him the tale of their rescue by Harry Potter and his friends and their journey to the encampment. At no point in the narrative did Lupin look relaxed in Tonks's company, and it pained Alphard to see it.
"This is my husband," she announced, "Remus Lupin." She looped her arm through his, and Alphard saw Lupin's neck flush in embarrassment as he nodded his head as acknowledgement of the grateful looks he received.
"What happens now?" asked Lupin.
"We need to work out the safest route to the port and then over to Conall in Ireland," said Alphard.
"Will you go with them?" Lupin asked Tonks, as, almost imperceptibly, he removed her arm from his. "You can't go back to work now. It won't be safe for you if you were spotted."
"I hadn't planned to -" But she was interrupted by the exclamations of some of the refugees pleading to her to reconsider and help them on the final leg of their journey. Alphard could see she was torn and wanted to stay with Lupin. Young Maisie Cattermole tugged at Tonks's leather jacket.
"Please stay with us," she said. Tonks sat on her haunches next to the child and ruffled her hair.
"And how could I resist you, miss?" she teased and the child giggled.
"You and your parents, Dora. You all need to get to safety," said Lupin.
She looked longingly at Lupin and Alphard felt a flash of anguish as he saw a hunted look in Lupin's eyes. Alphard couldn't let this charade go unchecked.
"Remus," Alphard interjected, "Idris is over by the roundhouse. I think he wanted to speak to you. Come, Dora, let's get everyone settled."
Lupin shot Alphard a look of gratitude and left the tent as Alphard guided Tonks back to the centre of attention to plan their route to Ireland the following day.
AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL
Idris listened to Lupin carefully, and didn't like what he heard.
"'Werewolves have no business living.' He said that?"
Lupin nodded. "I'm afraid so. I asked if anyone had been unwelcoming to him, given him cause to feel so alienated. He just said we were all filthy half-breeds. He has nothing to live for. I reminded him of his wife – of his son." Lupin frowned. "He spat on the floor and said none of them had anything to live for – except revenge – revenge on those responsible."
"Greyback?"
Lupin's lips thinned. "The impression I got was, all of us."
"That's dangerous talk for a Were," growled Idris.
"I know. Did you know he's become friendly with Stacy?"
Idris started. "Stacy? The most wolfish of us?"
Lupin nodded. "Conway told me Frost's always talking to Stacy – whispering to him on his own. And Stacy won't tell him what Frost says. I have a bad feeling about this."
Idris's eyes narrowed. "So do I, Remus Lupin. So do I."
AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL
Idris doubled the watch around the encampment and instructed Gareth and Geraint to keep watch on Frost. In these troubled times, Idris couldn't afford division or hatred in their ranks.
In the meantime, Alphard told the refugees to keep to the tent. The encampment was bounded by strong protective enchantments that should shield them from Snatchers and Death Eaters alike, but it was best not to tempt fate in case anyone strayed too far. So he wasn't best pleased when he saw Tonks slipping out of the tent after everyone else had settled down for the night.
He quickly told Angharad what he was doing and followed Tonks out and found her near the perimeter of the wards, clearly searching for Lupin. He called to her.
"I wanted to see Remus," she said, looking around as he joined her and they walked together.
"I know, but he's on watch tonight. You shouldn't disturb him."
"I am an Auror, y'know. I could keep watch with him."
"Perhaps that's not the best idea, Dora. You and your charges have a long day tomorrow. You should get some sleep. Let's go back."
She looked at Alphard, and bit her lip. "Uncle, is there something you're not telling me?"
Alphard breathed in heavily. Part of him didn't want to get involved, but part of him wanted to shake Tonks into reality. They reached the clearing and Alphard sat on one of the rough-hewn benches and patted the placed next to him. Tonks sat and held Alphard's hand.
"I can't help thinking that you're keeping me from Remus," she said with a nervous laugh.
"Perhaps I am," rejoined Alphard. "I think – perhaps – I should. I don't want you to be hurt -"
"What do you mean?"
"Dora, please. I know about the Potion and the Memory Charm -"
"He's spoken to you about me? He had no right! You're my uncle, not his!" She blushed violently, looking every inch the petulant child, before she painted the blush away. Alphard felt his heart clench with love. How like her mother she looked when Andy had been young. He smiled softly.
"Yes, I'm your uncle, Dora. And it's because I'm your uncle that I don't want you to pine for a man whose heart belongs to another."
"You know about him then?" she snarled as her throat worked as the Fidelius prevented her speaking further. Alphard pressed a finger to her lips.
"Shh," he whispered. "Yes, I do. I know it all. And I know about the Potion he made to make your baby safe."
Tonks flushed again, but did not try to hide it this time as her shoulders slumped.
"I didn't know that the baby would be a werewolf, uncle. I would never have done that to a child ... or to Remus." Her eyes became bright with tears. Alphard pressed her hands in his. Oh, she was so troubled not to see what she had done was so wrong.
"Dear heart, you have to let him go. This isn't love. You know it isn't."
Tonks shook her head quickly, unwilling to hear what Alphard wanted to say.
"You don't understand Remus the way I do. He just needed help relaxing – to see how good I could be for him. How a child would be the making of us. He was so full of self-loathing, he would never allow himself to love -"
"Stop, Dora. Please, stop now." He placed a firm hand over her gesticulating one. "Don't lie to yourself any longer. Amortentia is a slave drug." He stared deeply into her violet eyes and said as gently as he could, "You know better."
Her eyes changed to the stormy grey eyes of the Blacks as they filled with pain and her tears spilt.
"Am I so unlovable, Uncle?"
"Of course not. You and David loved well once. And I believe you will find love again but you have to let him go. He won't desert his child – werewolves don't - but you shouldn't use the child to bind him to you."
"He did desert us. He ran away when I was first pregnant ..." She touched her stomach protectively. She was only just starting to show. "He'll leave us for good if I can't get him back. Now I'm here – I have to try."
"Don't you think that will happen again eventually? And then what?" He pulled Tonks into a hug as she wrapped her arms around him. "Darling girl, I want you to be happy - truly happy with someone who loves you as much as you love him." He kissed the crown of her head and she sniffed unhappily.
"Uncle?" She moved away so she could look at him.
"Hm?"
"Do you believe we're cursed? The Blacks, I mean."
Alphard couldn't help wincing.
"The first I heard of the Lydiard Curse was from your mother. I thought back then that perhaps there was a family seeking to find a reason why I was a blood traitor, as was Sirius, and your mother. And your gift – so rare but perhaps to reminiscent of what the Blacks fear. Perhaps, there was no curse at all but that which the Blacks made for themselves."
"You don't believe in it? Good! I hate people telling me how I feel isn't right."
He rubbed his hand over his face. It pained him to think of it but he had to make his niece think about what this curse meant for her.
"But then - Remus told us what my brother's portrait said. I can tell you that I know my sister - your Great Aunt Walburga - connived with Tom Riddle to have Idris bitten. Walburga did that to stop me being with him because she thought it would ruin the family's reputation. I doubt it would have done: money buys an awful lot of latitude, in my experience." He sighed. "I wouldn't have blamed Vereticus Lydiard if he had done that. Idris heard the curse. You know he has a deep – a visceral intuition of magic, borne of his gift for Wandsong. He believes that curse is real. I know a Spell Worker," Alphard did not mention Snape's name, "who believes there is power in the metre of it."
Tonks stood suddenly, hugging herself tightly.
"So what I feel for Remus is a lie? What I felt for David was a lie? No!" Her voice broke. "Don't tell me everything I feel is just the work of a curse! I can break an Imperius like that!" She snapped her fingers. "Have I really no free will at all?"
Tonks's hair seemed to flame and then dull to a muted pink. Alphard joined her and spoke as gently as he could.
"You do. Free will not to use a Love Potion or a Memory Charm. I implore you to use that free will now for your own sake and the sake of your child. You can't live a lie, Dora. You'll never be happy that way."
She was silent for what seemed like an eternity then she turned back to him, tears rolling down her cheeks and buried her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her once more as she wept, hoping this would be the breakthrough she needed to move on.
AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL
It was a spectacular September dawn but Idris didn't really notice. He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the clean air of Snowdon, hoping to quell the queasiness that had woken him well before dawn. He had always been robust and rarely known sickness. He leant against one of the trees and rubbed his forehead. It was clammy, even to his own touch.
"You all right, Da?" said Iolo, walking up to his father.
"Aye. Must've had some bad meat," Idris muttered.
Iolo nodded. "Must've been a bad batch. I don't feel so clever today."
Idris regarded his son. There was no doubt his scent was a little off, his skin a little grey. Then he spotted Lupin walking down the mountain trail towards the camp. "Where's he been?"
"Went to meet that ... that man of his, Seth" Iolo replied. "Asked permission afore he went."
"Did he? Did he now?" Idris murmured, as he watched Lupin approach and raise a hand in greeting to him. Reckless, he thought. No, worse – careless. Lupin would bear watching a little more closely.
AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL
By 9 o'clock that morning, all the refugees were assembled outside Alphard's tent and saying their goodbyes to the few of the Pack they had met. The operation to guide the refugees on to Ireland was headed by Medwyn and Ieuan and had been mapped out with military precision. They had co-opted the Whitby Werewolves as the werewolves most recently part of the Muggle society, as well as Conway being Irish. Only Stacy seemed reluctant to go with them, Idris noted with growing concern. There had been a time when Stacy would not have been parted from the other Whitby Werewolves for anything. Idris wanted to know what had changed and he meant to find out once the others had left.
Food had been packed for the travellers, Idris ensuring it mainly consisted of fruit, cheese and bread. Roberta had wanted to include some ham and dried sausage but Idris vetoed it. He told her it was to preserve their stocks for the coming winter but, in truth, he was beginning to suspect some of their preservation techniques had not worked properly.
A few of the Pack were now feeling unwell with some low-level fever. Idris was sure it would pass soon enough, although he felt a little guilty that Alphard was busy tending those who were poorly rather than spending the last hour or so with his great-niece, as he undoubtedly would have preferred. That thought prompted the realisation that Tonks wasn't outside with the others. He returned to the tent and found her arguing in hissed whispers with Lupin in the corner, every now and then grabbing the front of Lupin's robe for emphasis. He could scent Lupin's exasperation and – something else – fear. Fear for her or of her, he couldn't tell.
"It's time," he said, holding the entrance flap open as their attention snapped to him. Tonks turned back to Lupin.
"Come with me."
Lupin shook his head. "No, Dora. But please re-consider asking your parents to join you -'
"Damn you, Remus!" she spat and she fled from the tent.
AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL
Alphard was vexed. He had been sent from the roundhouse as soon as Ceinwen had told him that Angharad was going into labour and drawn a makeshift screen around her bedding. Now he was sitting at his desk, writing his patients' notes. He stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose. It had only been twenty-four hours since the refugees had arrived, but he was exhausted.
He had tended to the poorly in the roundhouse all morning. He should have been able to treat them easily enough with fever potions but, whenever he administered it, the patients had immediately regurgitated it. He had never known that reaction before and wondered if that batch had somehow spoilt.
Unfortunately, because he had to care for his patients, he had only managed the briefest of goodbyes with Tonks who had left in tears because Lupin had refused to go to Ireland with her. Lupin hadn't even stayed to see her off, but had taken charge of the building crew to get out of her way.
It all felt like such a mess. Alphard was so proud of his great-niece for rescuing the Muggle-borns and their families from the Ministry. On the other hand, he was appalled that her behaviour might be wrought and warped by the combination of a powerful Dark curse and the undoubted instability and dubious mores of the Blacks.
Alphard knew Idris had doubts about Lupin and Snape as well as what unravelling the Curse might mean for their own relationship. Alphard turned Idris's ring on his finger and smiled softly. He had no such doubts: he knew his heart and the happiness in his soul. He had never been happier. He resolved to try to persuade Idris again to work with Snape and Lupin to lift the Curse and pulled forward some parchment to compose a letter to Snape.
Just then, Idris burst in, looking wild and afraid.
"Alf! You have to come! Come quickly!"
Alphard leapt from the chair.
"What's the matter?"
"It's Angharad … the baby. Something's wrong!"
Idris grabbed Alphard's arm but Alphard was already making towards the door.
"What's happened? I thought Ceinwen was midwifing," asked Alphard, as he strode behind Idris towards the roundhouse.
"She is, but the baby's not coming and Angharad's in so much pain. Ceinwen doesn't think Angharad's strong enough to make it!"
They both rushed into the roundhouse and past the screen, Idris turning Alphard toward the cot on which Angharad lay, her pallor deathly, her breathing rapid.
"Dear heart," Alphard murmured as he laid a cool hand on her fevered brow. "Be calm now." He drew his wand over her body as Idris sat by Angharad's head and picked up her hand.
"I've never see this afore," exclaimed Ceinwen unhappily as she mopped Angharad's forehead. Alphard had not come across difficult births amongst the werewolves. Until now, the births in the Pack had been trouble-free: not once had he been required. Angharad and Ceinwen were the midwives to the Pack's females. He saw fear in Ceinwen's face that she had never faced these difficulties, even as he saw tears roll down the sides of Angharad's face as her neck became corded in a silent scream as his wand passed over her.
"Alf … Alf …" Angharad gasped. "I can't … help me!"
Alphard cast several more spells over the labouring woman. Every diagnostic spell showed something very, very wrong indeed – the baby was in distress and Angharad was clearly exhausted and unable to push.
"Dear heart," he said softly. "The baby is very distressed and you're not strong enough to deliver him safely."
Angharad's tears were flowing freely now as she nodded her understanding.
"Can you do it, Alf? Can you deliver my baby?"
"Yes, I've done it before." Alphard didn't say that was many years ago, but those Caesarean sections had been successful and Angharad's inherent magic would help. Alphard began to cast cleansing and disinfecting charms, but even as he cast, before he even began the anaesthetic charms, Angharad moaned in agony.
As the charms reached Angharad, the hairs rose on Idris's body as Alphard's Wandsong became discordant and Angharad began to scream and twist on the bed.
The magic was hurting Angharad! Idris leapt forward and snatched Alphard's wand from him.
"Alf! Stop! It's killing her!"
The screaming stopped as Angharad drifted out of consciousness and her breath came in heavy rasps. The two men stared at each other, eyes wide and terrified.
"It can't be!" declared Alphard. "I'd never hurt her."
"I'm tellin' ye, Alf. I heard it – the magic is wrong. Not your casting – but when the magic touches her – it becomes Dark!"
Alphard mouth dropped. "What? How?" But even as he asked, he knew. He was a Black and he knew all too well how magic could be turned inward. "She's been cursed?"
Idris nodded, his skin still crawling with the sensations he was picking up from the magic in the room.
"A werewolf never has problems in childbirth. Werewolf magic is strong. The curse reproduces – that's its intent." Idris stroked Angharad's damp hair from her eyes. "The more her magic tries to assist the birth, the greater the Darkness created," he murmured, his throat constricted in fear.
"I could bind her magic -" Alphard suggested. All Healers could bind magic temporarily if a disease warranted it although it was a rarely used form of healing.
"You saw what happened when you tried to cast! Whatever this curse is, it is turning any magic against her."
"Any magic ..." mumbled Alphard, an uneasy memory, old and vague and long-forgotten, seemed to stir. Memories of his father ...
/
"- but the cost of it?" Irma Black hissed. It was hearing that snippet as Alphard passed the study door that drew him to the conversation: his mother rarely questioned his father. "Did it even do any good?"
"How else was I supposed to turn that madman's magic against himself and any magic used to help him?" growled Pollux. "As long as it consumes his curse then it's worth the cost."
Alphard heard the squeak of leather and realised his father had risen from his chair. He was torn between trying to hear more and making good his escape before his father caught him eavesdropping, but his curiosity won over his fear. Even at sixteen, Alphard was still fearful of his father's cruelty.
"But Sanguimancy, Pollux! If you're discovered -"
The cut-glass door knob began to turn and Alphard fled before his father caught him, but he felt a shard of ice slice through his heart that his father had undertaken blood magic. And he had a good idea against whom ...
/
"Blood magic," Alphard said. Idris looked up sharply, about to question Alphard but he held up his hand as he fought for the memories. As Healers, one was taught a certain amount about blood magic, but these forms of curse, Dark by their nature, were forbidden and illegal in most cultures. Alphard hadn't worked in spell damage for many years but slowly information came back to him.
"This type of curse is worked through blood magic." Alphard pressed his hands to his face. "To counter it, we would need the blood of the Caster." His hands dropped to his side as he realised the hopelessness of their situation.
"But we don't know who cast it," said Idris, suddenly realising what Alphard had already worked out.
"And if I scry for the Caster – I need to use Angharad as part of the spell and I could kill her."
Idris pressed his forehead to Angharad's, listening to her laboured breathing. "What then? Alf, what do we do?"
Alphard began to pace, unused to feeling so helpless. Years of magical training useless! The baby had to be born or both mother and child would die as Angharad's magic turned in on her, and probably the unborn child's magic too as its distress continued.
Alphard suddenly stopped and grasped Idris's arm.
"We'll have to take her to a Muggle hospital. A Caesarean section without magic. That's what we have to do."
AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL
Once decided, Alphard would not be shaken. Yes, he would have to use magic to get Angharad to hospital, but there was no choice about that. He couldn't take her safely on a broom, and certainly not during daylight. Time was too short to try to get some kind of Muggle transport. They would have to Apparate.
Apparating with a semi-conscious woman was dangerous at the best of times. At first, Idris had wanted to Apparate with his wife but Alphard had trained in Apparition with those who were ill or unconscious as part of his training, and Idris finally conceded that responsibility to him.
Ieuan and Iolo brought detailed maps to their father, and Gwynfor, who had grown up in Bangor before being bitten and Turned, explained the layout of surrounding roads to the large hospital. Alphard studied the map very carefully. Apparating to an unknown place was always dangerous but they had to risk it.
Alphard knew something of Muggle medicine and, although he considered most of it barbaric, it was Angharad's only hope to be delivered of her baby safely.
AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL
Gwynfor and Iolo Apparated in advance to ensure no one else was there. Alphard and Angharad Apparated into a narrow alley behind the laundry building of the hospital, quickly followed by Idris. As they came out of the Apparition, Angharad nearly fell, but Alphard and Idris caught her just as Iolo came forward with a metal contraption. Everyone put away their wands. The Apparition was to be the last magic anyone would cast in front of Angharad.
"It's a wheelchair," Iolo gasped. "I picked it up at their reception. Gwynfor's told them we're coming."
Alphard and Iolo helped Angharad into the wheelchair and they rushed towards the entrance. As they came into view, three women in uniforms came running towards them.
"Nurses," whispered Iolo. "That's what Gwynfor said."
Alphard took in the uniform, surprised how short the skirts were and then noticed how one of them looked askance as his own long robe. He really hadn't considered his own attire and inwardly cursed himself for his inattention to the secrecy laws.
"Is the father here?" called one of the nurses as they hurried towards the entrance of the hospital.
"Aye," said Idris, his eyes never leaving Angharad as she was wheeled forward.
"When we get to the ward, you can come in, but your friends must stay outside."
"Fine, fine."
As they approached the double doors, Alphard was sure they would collide with them, but the doors opened as if a charm had been cast upon them and they sped on towards more metal doors. A button was pushed which lit up and within seconds, the metal doors opened and a disembodied voice announced, "Ground floor. Doors closing."
AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL
A sign announced that they had reached the Maternity Ward. One of the nurses gestured to a room to one side.
"If you could all wait in the Relatives Room please. We'll take Mum and Dad ... sir? Are you all right?"
Idris stood with his hand cupped over his nose and mouth.
"The smell!" he managed to grind out. "What's that smell?"
"Disinfectant, I shouldn't wonder," chimed in Alphard, realising the very strong chemical smells were probably extremely uncomfortable for the werewolves. Iolo and Gwynfor went into the Relatives Room without another word, looking equally unsettled and unwell.
"We'll need to take some details while we're waiting for the midwife."
"Alf, will you take care of it? I don't think ..."
"Of course," Alphard nodded and followed the nurse to the central staff base as another nurse wheeled Angharad away and Idris followed them. Idris had been even more cloistered from the outside world as a werewolf within a Pack. Alphard realised Idris would have quite a deal of difficulty trying to pass as a Muggle.
At the desk, Alphard gave his name as Alf Black, as well giving Idris and Angharad's names, adding the surname of Lydiard and her date of birth.
"Does Mum have her antenatal notes with her?"
Mum? Alphard couldn't help feeling some irritation that the nurses couldn't seem to be bothered to learn their patients' names. He bit a criticism back.
"I'm afraid not. Angharad has been consulting a ... a holistic practitioner. I don't believe she's consulted a -" he struggled as he tried to remember the term for a Muggle family physician, "- G.P," he suddenly recalled. That's it, a general practitioner.
The nurse eyed his robes sceptically, clearly suspecting him of being that holistic practitioner.
"Is Mum a primigravida? By which I mean ..."
Alphard cut across her. "No, this is Angharad's third child. She's always delivered her children without incident at home."
"So, there's no hospital number." The nurse sniffed as she tapped at a keyboard and looked at a screen. "I can't find a reference to Mum on the system. Do you have Mum's NHS number?"
Alphard was losing patience. There was too much here he didn't understand and the screen she was looking at disturbed him. It would be difficult if they did not have paper files – he knew practically nothing about Muggle technology, but he did know that there were always Wizarding liaisons within hospitals, just as there were at police stations. They could not afford to come to the attention of the Ministry through this.
He felt the handle of his wand and surreptitiously drew it, as he checked that no-one was watching.
"Confundus!" he quickly incanted and the nurse's face became quite blank. "I have given you all the identification you need. The patient is exhausted and unable to deliver the child. You will contact the doctor immediately for an emergency delivery, preferably under anaesthetic. You will discuss each and every clinical decision with me and give me as much additional information as I ask for."
He cancelled the spell. The nurse smiled brightly at him. "Bear with me, Mr. Black." She picked up the telephone and requested the obstetrician on call be paged immediately.
AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL
Once the obstetrician arrived, he rapidly decided that an emergency Caesarean section was required. It was clear Angharad could not deliver the baby naturally. Alphard had been concerned that Angharad would only be offered regional anaesthesia and that Idris, as father, would be present. As much as Alphard wasn't keen on Muggle general anaesthetics, he also knew that Angharad's magic might become unstable if she were awake and stressed by these unknown procedures in addition to her inability to give birth to her child. He also was sure Idris's proximity to her, with his own powerful magic, might be counterproductive. However, the obstetrician had said Idris could not attend the procedure if Angharad was under general anaesthetic.
When Alphard told Idris what would be done and that general anaesthetic had to be the safest to protect Angharad from the curse, Idris became upset.
"My cub will be born and held by strangers? Alf, no! If his mother can't hold him then I must be there to."
It took all of Alphard's powers of persuasion to calm Idris down so they could present a united front to Angharad and do their best to allay her fears.
AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL
Another Confundus Charm convinced the obstetrician that Alphard was a visiting physician, observing theatre procedure, and ensured that, scrubbed and attired in operating theatre scrubs, Alphard was allowed to station himself as near to Angharad as he could without getting in the way. He knew to touch nothing and that everything was sterile – well, as sterile as Muggles could get them.
Under any other circumstances, he would have cast a Disinfecting Charm, just to be sure, but even that might endanger Angharad's life. He had to trust to Muggle medicine.
He inhaled deeply. The instruments laid out turned his stomach. Alphard could scarcely believe the interference with Angharad's body: a venous cannula was inserted into the vein on her hand to administer medication and now the anaesthetist was placing a mask over Angharad's face. He murmured reassurance to her as their eyes met and Angharad squeezed his hand. Alphard knew a catheter would be inserted once Angharad was safely under anaesthetic. It really was barbaric. But it was also non-magical – and that was all that could keep Angharad and her baby safe.
"Now, count to ten with me," the anaesthetist said and Angharad, muffled by the mask, began to count. Her eyelids fluttered before she even reached three. It began.
AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL~AB~IL
Idris, as the father, had been shown to the recovery room where Angharad and the baby would be brought after surgery. A nurse now presented him with a mask, cap, gloves and gown. Bewildered, he stared at them.
"You wear them," she said, "to help protect the baby."
"Why? From what"
"Are you sure you've done this before?" the nurse said.
"Never in a hospital," said Idris gruffly, dearly wishing they were all home now.
"These keep germs away from baby." She looked at his blank stare and clearly thought he was not very bright. She sighed. "Well, you wash here first, using this." She pointed to a dispenser and sink. "Give your hands a good scrub and put on the gloves. Put on the cap to keep your hair away from baby. Put the gown over your clothes and then tie the mask on over your mouth."
Idris grunted and went to wash his hands, feeling foolish. He had never had to do all this with any of his children before. Muggles were odd.
Once the nurse had left him, he tried to concentrate on keeping himself calm. He couldn't allow any magic to discharge accidentally. He sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasping his knees and breathed in deeply. He no longer knew whether he felt sick because of bad meat or because his beloved Angharad was in the clutches of Muggle medics.
This was all so foreign to him. He was an outcast in the magical world, let alone never having dealt with the Muggle one! The lights were false and harsh. The smells nauseated him. The mechanical sounds seemed to abrade his ears and disturb his equilibrium. There were mechanisms that buzzed like a swarm of metallic bees and tooted and peeped like furious, strident birds. It all seemed to drill into his very soul.
Was there no silence in the Muggle world?
The minutes seemed to crawl by. At least, he had the reassurance that Alphard was watching over Angharad. All Idris could do was pace around the room as he tried to contain his agitation.
After what felt like hours, the midwife came in holding a small bundle in her arms. All Idris's panic seeped from him as he rushed forward.
"Sit down, Mr. Lydiard," the midwife said gently. Idris sat down and raised his hands to receive his child.
"It's a girl," the midwife announced, her tone soft and reassuring. Suddenly, tears pricked at the back of Idris's eyes. He had only ever had sons: Angharad had been right. "Baby's a little sleepy. That's the anaesthetic. It'll pass. She's healthy and Mum's doing just fine. She'll be out of theatre soon and she'll be wanting her daughter, I'm sure." With one hand, she pulled down the front of the surgical gown and the tabard Idris was wearing, and opened the blanket slightly and placed the baby against the skin of his upper chest. His hands folded protectively around the baby's tiny form.
"Skin to skin," she said, "so baby can feel and smell you while we wait for Mum. It'll be another half an hour or so ..."
He didn't hear any more of what the midwife said and had no words for her, although she smiled as if she understood. He was already bewitched. His large hand cupped the tiny head with its soft spot and downy hair and he inhaled her unique newborn scent.
"My daughter," he whispered to the tiny, perfectly formed fingers which curled around his finger. "My Rowan."
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