Chapter 12

Tea Parties and Allegory

Bernard didn't wait long to find Annise. The butler, whom he had run into on the staircase landing, had pointed him in the right direction: the greenhouse. Apparently, the greenhouse was located of the northeastern side of the house—well, mansion. It was easy to miss: at first glance it was just another doorway leading off of the main corridor, but the greenery was the giveaway.

Once inside, it seemed that the room should have been impossible to miss.

Bernard whistled. "Wow."

The entire room was made of glass—three walls of fused glass, bound together with old fashioned lead. It was huge—easily the largest room in the house—and could easily have been called its own building, despite its adjoining the house. It was antique in a mysterious old mansion sort of way, with ornate dark wood paneling on the wall that connected to the house and a floor-to-ceiling stained glass window in another—the back wall. It was only partially visible above all the plants.

The roof was wooden, constructed of the same dark wood as the house wall. The glass was tarnished, and had frosted over in the evening chill. There was a slow leak somewhere, a dripping nose echoed in the room; and vine plants trailed and snaked their way through the thick beams amid the rafters. Tall thick beams scattered amidst the plentiful foliage supported a high balcony that wrapped around the top of the building—a balcony that was, oddly, lined from floor to ceiling with books. A beautiful spiral staircase wound in one corner, leading up to the balcony, and at its top there was a closed door in the wall, slightly misaligned from the entrance to the house.

"It is rather impressive, isn't it?" came a voice from the balcony. A moment later a light snapped on, and an old man came into view, standing on the middle rung of a tall ladder that rolled along a rail built into the bookshelves. "The entire house looked like this, before my daughter-in-law decided to change the décor every few months." The man came skidding to a stop at the end of the rail, and hopped off rather spryly. "Come to think of it, every few minutes might be more appropriate, considering that I barely have time to blink before it's changed again. I love the woman, and she excels in her respective profession, but the requisite need to alter the atmosphere of her home so often is a bit unnerving."

He came clattering down the staircase, before jumping on the rail halfway down and sliding down the banister the rest of the way. The man landed firmly on his feet, knees slightly bent. Then he rose and looked at Bernard, bright blue eyes twinkling. "I don't believe we've met," he said, his voice surprisingly friendly. "Professor Phineas H. Connelly, at your service," he said with a sweeping bow, then dug his hands into his trouser pockets. "The H stands for Horatio, if you care to know. And you are?"

"Bernard," Bernard said, surprised. The man was eyeing him up and down in an assessing, yet nonthreatening way. "I ah…I came to find Annise, actually."

"I'll bet you did," the man said lightly, tossing his grey hair out of his eyes. "And you've come to the right place. You're the boy that came home with our Ellington, aren't you?"

"Yes sir, I am." Bernard wasn't sure how to act with this person. Having expected only hostility from Elle's father (and her family in general,) he was a bit taken aback by this random show of kindness from a strange man that looked like a combination of Harrison Ford and Doc Brown from Back to the Future.

"Ah. Don't call me sir, it makes me feel old. I'm only sixty two! Call me Phineas, please." He took Bernard by the arm, and led him through the plants. "Come come, we mustn't waste time. You and I have much to discuss, young man!"

Bernard turned his head to the side to avoid getting a mouthful of potted fern. "I assume you're Elle's grandfather?" he asked, just as Phineas yanked him sharply to one side.

"Yes—look out for that ficus!" A random branch swung out in front of them, nearly missing Bernard's head. "Oh dear. That one's gone rogue again. I'll have to have Tara take a look at it, when she swings by—and it's gone. Come along then, boy! Or are you feet made of lead?" It was said kindly, if not a tad impatiently. "Doctor! Doctor, have you got the tea ready?" he called loudly, towards the back of the room.

"Yeah, Gramps! Almost done…have you misplaced the Twinings again?" It was Annise. Surprisingly, Bernard's attention was elsewhere: had that tree just moved on its own?

Before he could think on it much, they reached the back of the room. The plants were cleared away here, and several large, ornate and rather comfortable looking couches and armchairs were arranged in a half circle around a raised coffee table, like a Mad Hatter's tea party. A brick fireplace was built into one glass wall, the chimney running clear up the panel and out the roof. A fire crackled merrily inside. Numerous tall golden lamps with odd fixtures provided the rest of the light. In the middle of the room, Annise was arranging tea supplies on the table: a large teapot, several cups and saucers, napkins and a tray of various foods and delicacies. A large fluffy black cat sat primly in a green armchair, tail tapping rhythmically on its paws. Its large green eyes locked onto Bernard immediately, following his every move.

Above them the magnificent stained glass window towered, sending shards of beautifully hued light around the room. It was a depiction of a woman, spinning thread on a spinning wheel.

"Hello again," said Annise, looking up at him with eerily similar green eyes and a small smile. "You must be…how did Elle put it? 'Just Bernard.'"

Bernard's stomach dropped. Just Bernard? That was how Elle had chosen to introduce him to her sister? That was reassuring.

"Come now, Doctor," said Phineas, giving his granddaughter a stern look as he put on wire-rimmed half moon spectacles. "Don't be cruel. Is this how I have taught you to treat our guests? Bernard is Ellington's…" he deliberated a long moment, looking at Bernard intently. "...friend. And as such, we will accord him due honor. Now, have a seat, young man. It's tea time, and in this house" –he paused—"at least, in this part of the house, we keep to our tea time." He took a seat in a chair to the right of the cat, and Annise took a seat opposite him. "Doctor, will you please take role?"

"Certainly." Annise pulled out a large leather bound book with loose pages, from a gilded magazine holder filled with books. She flipped a few pages before pulling open a drawer in the coffee table and pulling out...a quill? And a bottle of ink. She put on her Tenth Doctor glasses and did her best to look utterly focused. "Alright. Let's see…acting minister Phineas H. Connelly?"

"Present!" Phineas chirped, selecting a teacup from the mismatched sets available.

"Secretary of affairs Annise Olivia Connelly, present." The scratching of the quill was the only noise in the room, bar the crackling of the fireplace and the purring of the cat. "Also present are field agent Maximus Duskpaw, feline, and a…" She trailed off. "A muggle."

"Doctor!" Another stern glare. "Outsider will do just fine, thank you."

Bernard chose not to point out that he had more magic than the both of them combined, making him the least Muggly person in the room.

Annise rolled her eyes. "Fine. Outsider." She scratched out something and wrote another word. "Missing from today's role is Dorothy Jessica Connelly, acting Treasurer, and Ellington Sophia Connelly, MIA." With a final flick of her quill, Annise flipped the book closed and replaced it in the rack. Then she set the quill and ink back into the drawer, put her glasses into her coat pocket, and selected her own teacup from the display.

Phineas, who had by now finished pouring his tea, sat comfortably in his chair, a Danish in one hand. "Now. Seeing as we have a guest in our midst, official business shall have to wait until later—especially the matter of the Annual Decorating Party. At the moment, I believe some answers are in order."

"Indeed," said Annise primly, kicking off her sneakers and tucking her feet under her as she sipped her drink. "Our ongoing investigation into the whereabouts of our fellow society member is of utmost priority."

Bernard, who was by now rather confused and nearly certain he had been literally dragged into the meeting of some sort of strange fellowship or something, decided to speak up. Unfortunately, no sooner had he opened his mouth that Phineas cut him off.

"Just a moment," the older man said, holding up a hand in protest. The Danish was long gone by now. "I'm afraid the questions must come later. For now, let us examine we know, shall we?" He pressed his fingertips together and grew utterly serious, peering intently at Bernard over the rims of his spectacles. "You appear to be of some considerable importance to my eldest granddaughter. Don't bother arguing, or saying anything for that matter," Phineas said, seeing Bernard about to interject. "This is an inductive reasoning session and I would prefer for my conclusions to be unbiased by the fact—or fiction—of another."

Annise handed Bernard a steaming cup of tea. "Feel free to add what you'd like to that," Phineas told him, gesturing to the tray. Bernard eyes the cup almost dubiously, trying not to wonder if it was somehow poisoned. Both Annise and Phineas seemed to be kind enough, if not a bit skeptical, and Bernard figured that as much as he didn't like it, the best thing to do would be to go along with their little procedure.

"Now. You have traveled with my eldest granddaughter. Considering her rather limited collection of friends—which I can only assume has grown; but then again Ellington has always been choosy when it comes to close acquaintances. You must be awfully important, crucial even, for her to have brought you home—especially since Ellington is well aware of how her father would respond to bringing a strange boy home with her." Phineas arched an eyebrow expectantly. "Am I correct thus far?"

Hesitantly, Bernard nodded. He added cream and sugar to his tea, and sipped experimentally. He had never been a big tea drinker, but found that it was actually surprisingly good. Perhaps it had to do with being human.

"Good." Phineas sounded genuinely pleased. "So. We've determined that you are somehow important to my granddaughter, and that she has made more friends in her absence, and that you are aware of what my son will want to do to you if he meets you." He cleared his throat. Bernard fought the urge to shudder, and succeeded. "Ahem. Well then, things are coming along rather nicely. Madam Secretary, would you like to add anything to my reasoning?"

Annise shifted in her chair, taking up a chocolate biscuit and adopting a placid expression. "Just one," she said, nibbling on a corner of the confection. "How long have you and my sister been involved?"

Bernard choked mid-sip, trying not to spew tea over everything. The cat hissed at the sudden noise and bolted under the sofa. Annise and Phineas exchanged knowing looks.

"Well, that clears things right up." Phineas viewed Bernard with a new kind of interest, handing him a napkin.

Bernard? Bernard?! Oh god oh god oh god what have I done….

All three of the greenhouse's occupants (not including the cat) cringed. The cat did growl, though. "Her telepathy's grown stronger, I see," Phineas commented, looking vaguely perturbed.

"That was meant to be a private message," Bernard realized, feeling rather disturbed himself. It took a lot for Elle to lose control of the finer points of her telepathy anymore. The projecting was a bad sign—and it already sounded like she was panicking.

Bernard shot up from the table and bolted, silently cursing his inability to teleport—not to mention all the plants in his way. He tripped three times before making it out of the room—and Phineas was hot on his heels. For an older fellow, he sure got around.

"Watch out for the potted salal shoots!" he cried, nimbly hopping over the pot shards Bernard had left behind. "Good lord boy: you're the quintessential bull-in-a-china-shop! Come on Annise, keep up! The game, my dear, is on!"

Bernard was in too much of a hurry to roll his eyes—but boy did he wish he had the time. It appeared that getting to know the Connelly family was going to be quite the experience.

Earlier that evening…

To Elle's surprise, it wasn't Dottie who had come barreling up the stairs. Instead, it was the little girl she'd seen earlier.

"Aubrey, isn't it?" Elle said, when, to her alarm, her bedroom door had burst open and the child had come rushing in. Elle arched an eyebrow and tried to remain calm—which was surprisingly harder than it looked.

The auburn headed girl looked up at Elle with wide eyes for a moment, before nodding. "Yeah. Umm…yoursister'shomeandshetoldmetotellyoushe'llbeinthekitchen," she said, all in one rushed breath.

"O…kay," Elle said, frowning. "Thanks."

"Mhmm." The girl stared at her for a few more moments.

"So…" After a few seconds, during which Aubrey made no move to leave, Elle tried to strike up conversation. "Is Clara having any luck with dinner?" It was lame, but all she could think of. Oddly, she was normally good with kids—somehow, all her people skills flew out the window with this girl.

"No," Aubrey said in a whisper, her eyes huge. "Clara burned the chicken again." She sighed quietly. "Clara always burns the chicken."

"Oh." There ended that strain of conversation. Elle watched the child blush in confusion. "Umm…do you like staying here?"

"It's alright," she said, with a shrug. Still, she kept her eyes glued on Elle, making the older girl feel more than slightly uncomfortable. "I like home better though. I wish mom and dad didn't have to go away for Christmas. Clara's so bossy when she's in charge."

"Ah, I—"

"I gotta go," Aubrey said abruptly, finally taking her eyes from Elle's face before rushing out, her long hair flying.

Bewildered, Elle closed her bedroom door and leaned against it, taking a deep breath. "What the Helheim," she muttered. "That reinvented awkward." She allowed herself to take a few more breaths before opening the door and trudging back down the hall towards the staircase.

As per her usual going-down-stairs protocol (which she still followed, when she wasn't stressed out and Bernard wasn't a) there to complain or b) in a complaining mood), she slid down the wide ebony banister and jumped off at the end, planting firmly on her feet.

"And she sticks it!" she announced, fist pumping slightly as a means of encouraging herself in the face of the confrontation ahead. Straightening her sweater, Elle made her way down the hall to the kitchen's swinging doors, considering all the while how she disliked the changes to the house her mother had made. The house Elle remembered was all beautiful polished dark wood and antique, mansion-y charm—this really did resemble a new Trek Enterprise. In theory, she liked that look; however in her childhood home? Not so much. When you've grown up with things a certain way, some things you just don't want to change. For Elle, this was one of them.

She stopped just outside the swinging double doors to the kitchen. Come to think of it, there was a slight smell of burnt something or other hanging in the air. In fact, it smelled so burnt that it was impossible to tell if it was even chicken anymore.

"Okay, Elle. Brace yourself. This is it." Elle took another deep breath, and pushed open the doors with both hands.

To Elle's chagrin, the burnt smell was worse in the kitchen—but it wasn't the surprising bit. The surprising bit was seeing a short blonde woman over the stove cooking—especially since that woman was her sister, Dottie.

Elle had almost forgotten that her sister had turned eighteen that May. Seeing her again brought that to mind, and she felt even more regret—yet another important thing she had missed while away. Her sister's stick straight hair was twisted up and had two black chopsticks sticking out of it at random angles. She was wearing glasses like she usually did when home, because her eyes were irritated by contacts. Her outfit was trendy, as was to be expected—but these weren't the surprising things.

The surprising thing was that Dottie was cooking—and she was cooking like a pro.

As a rule, Dottie didn't cook. Not even toast. But here she was now, dicing carrots so quickly that Elle was more afraid for Dottie's fingers than anything, and yet her sister was doing a perfect job. Was this her sister? Really?

"Dottie?" Elle questioned hesitantly, one hand still on the door.

The woman jumped, and whirled around. In the process she lost the chef's knife she was holding, and it plummeted towards the floor.

Before Elle knew what she was doing, her eyes trained on the object. The next moment, it was hovering mid-air.

Dottie's eyes widened. So did Elle's. "Uh…" Elle stuttered. "I—I didn't mean to…"

"Holy crap," Dottie breathed, pushing up her glasses on her nose with one finger. "Someone's telepathy has gotten stronger." She reached out and took the knife, setting it carefully down on the countertop. Then, she looked up at Elle. "Long time no see, stranger." Her mouth was pressed into a thin line, an eyebrow arched.

"Hi, Dottie." Elle looked at her hands for just a moment, her mind whirling. As much as she was used to having magic by now, this had felt different. So far, every time she'd used magic it had been visible—first, her less reformed green sparks; then, as she progressed, the silver ones. What was more, since Bernard had given her the bracelets (and on top of that, since becoming human again) her magic had been all but suspended. This time, it had felt like she hadn't used magic at all. Was there something to what Dottie had said? Did this have to do with her telepathy?

Then she clasped her hands behind her back, and put her thoughts away for the time being.

Looking at Dottie square on, Elle could see how different her sister was. Annise had grown and matured, but Dottie…Dottie had changed, much like Elle had. Her bob-cut had grown out, as Elle had first noticed. Her face was still as round and rosy as Elle remembered, and her jaggedly cut blonde bangs were still swiped to the side of her deep blue eyes, but there was something that hadn't been there before. There was a determination, a focus, and a wisdom that hadn't existed the last time Elle had seen her.

"I suppose a simple 'Sorry I'm late' wouldn't quite cover it?" Elle said ruefully.

"No." Dottie pursed her lips. "No it wouldn't." She crossed her arms.

Elle put her hands into her back pockets of her jeans. "Look, Dottie. I've been over this with Annise already."

"Good, then you know what's coming."

"I—" Elle frowned. "Excuse me?" Déjà vu hit her hard.

Dottie's mouth began to twitch. Then, her eyes twinkled. And then she began to giggle—because Dottie did giggle. "Hugs!" she squealed, and barreled at Elle full tilt.

Next moment, Elle had her arms pinned to her sides. "Okay," she panted. "That is not what I was expecting."

"You're not the only one who can surprise people," Dottie said. She squeezed Elle tighter, her voice abruptly filled with emotion. "Goddammit Elle, where have you been? It's been two years. Two freaking years…mom and dad are going to kill you, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah. I know." Elle found herself on the verge of tears yet again. She was a little tired of how many times that had happened in one day. Crying really wasn't her thing, and if things went well she would be crying twice more—once if she was lucky and got both of her parents at the same time. She unpinned her arms and wrapped them around her shorter sibling. Dottie was five foot two and the difference was substantial. Elle was the tallest female in her family in three generations, on either side of her family. Five foot six made her practically a giant. "Gosh I'm glad to see you kid."

"Don't you 'kid' me, sister," Dottie said, laughing tearfully. "I'm only barely a year younger than you, and you know it." She pulled away, and swiped at her eyes under her glasses. "You look good."

"So do you," Elle said, and truly meant it. "When did you learn to cook? Last time you 'tried' to cook something, the oven nearly exploded."

"You're not the only one who's been busy," Dottie said, turning back to the stove and stirring the ingredients in the skillet. There was an underlying note of pride in her voice. "While you've been away, I've been finding my own passion. During my senior year I paid a chance visit to one of dad's properties—you know that restaurant, down by Westwood? Well, I got hungry and wandered into the kitchen, not realizing what the kitchen of a four star restaurant was like."

She chuckled. "I was blown away. It just, I dunno, stuck with me. I mean, they weren't just cooking; they were creating art in there." She finished chopping the carrots and added them to the mix. "I decided that I wanted to become a part of it. So once I graduated I decided to go to college."

"You got into college?" This was a major surprise. Before Elle had left, Dottie had had no interest in pursuing a post-secondary education.

"I applied and was accepted into culinary school—based on my own merit, not dad's influence." Dottie turned and gave Elle a knowing smile. "Just like you did. And I've been cooking ever since."

"Wow." As far as news went, this took the cake. Elle had never expected Dottie to do something like this. It was too…mature? Well thought out? Both things that Dottie had never excelled at. "That's amazing. Amazing, geez! I'm really proud of you, Dottie. Really."

Dottie cocked her head to the side, doing her best impression of Ellington. "I know." She went to the fridge, and pulled out several packages of what appeared to be marinated chicken. "But enough about me! I'm not the one who ran away, and has been all mysterious and distant ever since." She gave Elle a conspiratorial look. "So: where have you been for the past two years? And why did you leave in the first place?"

"Well…" Elle trailed off. The urge to tell her sister everything was overwhelming—as close as she and Annise were, Dottie and Elle had a special relationship as well. Both girls had been four and five respectively when their parents met for the first time. Phillip was fresh out of his divorce from Dottie's mother, while Josette had been a single mother for years. Elle and Dottie had known each other long before Annise was born, and still told each other most things—at least, that was how it had been before Elle had left.

Dottie, sensing Elle's uncomfortable air, quickly finished browning the chicken and added all of the ingredients into a stock pot. She added water from the faucet above the stove and covered it, just as the tea kettle went off. "Come on," she said, while brewing two cups of earl grey. "Let's go to our spot and talk."

Their 'spot' was a second story balcony on the back side of the house, overlooking the city. A light dusting of snow had begun to fall, but the stone balcony was faintly damp; so Elle grabbed a blanket for each of them and they bundled up, mugs of tea cradled in their hands. With the Seattle lights glowing and the ambient noise in the distance, it felt like no time had passed.

"Just like old times, eh?" Dottie sipped her tea, eyes on the city.

"Look whose telepathic now," Elle said, smiling. It was nice. She had missed this, the simple things. More than ever she wanted to tell the truth: tell everything. If only it could be simple.

"You can tell me, you know," said Dottie quietly. "I'm not going to tell mom and dad if you don't want me to. God knows you've covered for me enough times—sometimes even when you shouldn't have."

Elle snorted softly. "Like that time you simply had to go to the midnight release party for Twilight: Eclipse, even though you were grounded and weren't supposed to be out of the house after dark?"

Dottie laughed. "We staged that whole elaborate escape—"

"Which worked perfectly…"

"And then I got caught—breaking back into the house."

Both girls dissolved into giggles, trying not to spill their tea as they nearly doubled over.

"You were wearing all of that Twilight merchandise…there was no denying where you'd been," Elle said, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. "And yet when dad asked you where you'd been, you told him that the cat had snuck out through your bedroom window—again."

"Well, I was holding the cat." Dottie grinned. "Unfortunately, that excuse hadn't even worked the first time I'd used it." Then she grew serious and slightly wistful. She looked at Elle nostalgically. "You always were smarter than me, Ellington. The responsible one, the eldest. I just don't want you to make a mistake that even I know is stupid."

Elle stared ahead at the skyline, and said nothing.

"So you're still keeping your secrets; fine." Dottie sighed, and looked away. "But Elle, lying to dad will be easier if somebody knows the truth." She gave Elle an earnest look. "Won't you let that somebody be me?"

"I don't want to lie to anyone," Elle said truthfully. "But this isn't just about me, Dottie. It's much bigger than me." She bit her lip thoughtfully for a moment before continuing. "If there ever was a time and a place for secrecy, it would be now. In these circumstances."

"But from family?" Dottie looked bewildered. "Elle, you've kept us all in the dark for two whole years! Don't you think we deserve some answers? And secrecy is one thing: this, this is something else! I mean, you're not working for the Government, are you?"

"No."

"Well then, why not? Why can't you tell me?"

"Because…" A tense sigh. "Dottie, it's just complicated, okay? I'm doing my best here. Please, don't make this harder on me." Elle huffed. "Besides, it's not just my secret. There are thousands of other—people keeping this secret too."

"Oh God." Dottie ran a hand over her face. "Oh God, tell me it isn't a cult or something." Funny, when you thought about it like that…

"What?!" Elle laughed outright. "No…no not exactly. Not a cult."

"Well when you say it like that, it makes me feel SO much better," said Dottie sarcastically. "Do you even know what this…this thing is?"

"Yes."

"Well, what is it?!" Dottie was really getting impatient now. "Did you finally get accepted to Hogwarts or something?"

"Wha…no!" Elle frowned. In all her time at the Pole, she hadn't even considered asking someone—or finding out for herself—if Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry even existed. Given the surprising array of characters she had met so far, and the countless others she knew dwelt in Crystal Springs, she would hardly be surprised if it did—excited out of her mind would be more like it. It was almost more surprising that she hadn't somehow somewhere bumped into Dumbledore. "And hey, mom and dad didn't let us read Harry Potter."

Dottie rolled her eyes. "Oh please. I'm an adult now; I read what I want. And don't tell me you haven't finished the series."

"Well…" Elle looked guiltily into her tea.

"You haven't?! For gosh sakes, woman! You were the first one of us to become a Potterhead. For shame!" She socked Elle playfully in the arm. Unfortunately for Elle, even Dottie's playful punches were painful. "The last book's been out for years—so has the last movie. Don't even get me started on Daniel Radcliffe." She grew distant, and slightly doe eyed. "Seriously. Don't."

"OW." Elle rubbed her arm ruefully. "Yeah, well. That's another thing to catch up on, I suppose." Then something occurred to her. "Wait a minute….the last Harry Potter movie came out…." A horrible premonition hit Elle square in the telepathic sense.

"Like I said," Dottie finished. "4 years ago. Before you left."

"So…" Elle trailed off, horrified. How was this even possible? After everything they had been through, with time? Technically, it was 2008. "What you're saying is that…is that…" She covered her mouth, suddenly feeling very sick. "Ohhhh, dammit. Nope! Nope nope nope, NOT good."

"Elle? What is the matter with you? Oh gosh, are you gonna be sick?" Elle stumbled to her feet, dropping her mug in the process. "Crap, you got tea all over me. It's okay, just lean over the balcony and—"Elle lurched, grabbing Dottie by the arms. Then she shook her sister with a vacant disturbed expression on her face a few times before staggering towards the open doorway. "Elle, where are you going? Don't go inside, you'll never make it to the bathroom; and mom will really kill you if you're sick all over the place! Elle!" But Elle was stumbling inside as quickly as she could, reaching out with her mind urgently.

Bernard? Bernard?! Oh god oh god oh god what have I done….

Before she could get any mental response Bernard burst into the hallway, floppy hair flying and eyes wide in alarm. To Elle's surprise her grandfather was there as well, panting from all of the running.

"Hello there, Ellie girl," Phineas said, smiling warmly. Then, he grew concerned. "Good lord, what's wrong? You look as though you've seen a gnargle!" Annise came to a halt behind him, coat slapping her calves noisily.

"Elle?" Bernard asked, seeing her expression. "Elle, what's wrong?"

"Ha…Harry….Potter," Elle panted, winded and nauseous. Seeing Bernard's confused look Elle tried harder. "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, part 2 came out."

"Yes? So?" he asked, mildly confused. He caught her by the elbow as she nearly doubled over. "Elle, what in the name of Christmas is going on with you? Why—"

"HarryPotterandtheDeathlyHallowspart2cameout," Elle said again, breathlessly. "4 years ago." Her vision was blurring by now, her telepathic sense picking up strange grating noise from someplace—where, she didn't know.

"Sure." Bernard frowned. "And four years ago is significant why?" He looked up at Dottie, who had followed after Elle. Dottie looked confused as to why Bernard was there at all.

At that same moment Elle sank to the ground, leaning against the wall and pulling her legs up close against her chest, head tucking into her knees.

"I dunno," the blonde girl said with a confused shrug. "She just went ape shit on me all of a sudden. What was so horrendous about 2011, anyway?"

Bernard paled, finally connecting the dots. "Oh. Oh god." He put a hand to his forehead and sucked air, eyes trained on Elle's bent head. "That's not good. Not good at all." He leaned against the wall for support—his knees had suddenly gone weak. Bernard slid down the wall and came to a bumpy stop, sitting next to Elle with a stricken expression on his face.

"Scott's got a lot of explaining to do," Elle muttered, peeking at him through her arms.

"That would be an understatement," Bernard replied, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"Who's Scott?" Phineas asked, mildly interested.

Dottie peered down at Bernard, an eyebrow raised. "Better yet, who's he?" she asked, in a vaguely suggestive tone. She looked down at him with a penciled eyebrow quirked over the rim of her stylish glasses.

"That's Bernard," Annise replied calmly. She reached into her trench-coat and pulled out her pair of replica Tenth Doctor glasses, slipping them on and making her best 'I'm the Tenth Doctor and this is terribly interesting' expression, while crossing her arms. "From what information I've gathered, he's Ellington's boyfriend."

HEY EVERYBODY! I'm so so sorry for my long absence in the TSC category! I've been did WriMo and I picked an Avengers story of mine to work on, so TEC2 kind of hit the back burner for awhile. Then I started another Avengers story, so all of my other fics have been pushed aside, LOTR included. BUT! Here we are, a great while later, with chapter 12!

I also wasn't sure if this chapter was going in the direction I needed it to, with the rest of the plot. Eventually things worked out. October was also the one year anniversary of my father's passing from cancer, and the next chapter has to do with Phillip and Josette a lot, so I just really didn't have the heart to write it. Now that we're into December I'm going to get down to it. Going to several Christmas bazaars yesterday made me get all festive and feelsy again. Good news for you guys, eh?

Please let me know what you thought of this—also, feel free to make suggestions for how you think Josette and Phillip will react to Bernard—especially after Annise's latest revelation ;) Who do you think these mysterious kids are? What did you think of Phineas? He's a hoot to write, I tell you what.

To everyone in this category whom I have not reviewed in ages (I'm looking at you two, SafyreSky and WinterFrost15) I will get to those essay-bullet point things once I finish updating my other stories, m'kay? Love you guys, you're all awesome!

Hope everyone is looking forward to December! Christmas is in 24 days, ahhhhhh! :D

-Ana