The Pierce Family


Day 1
Mt. Pierce, New Hampshire

The mansion that stood atop the mountain that once supported the rocky profile of Bradford Pierce was large. Far larger than was necessary for an old man, his wife, and his sister. Larger even than was necessary to house those three plus one son, two daughters-in-law, six grandchildren and their spouses, and fourteen great-grandchildren. Those thirty-two people had gathered at this house every summer for the last eleven years. Before that, the only ones of those thirty-two who were missing were those who were not yet born.

This year, only thirty-one were present at the annual Pierce Family Reunion. Derwent Pierce III was not present. Twenty-nine of the Pierces had no idea where he was. The last two knew his exact address in Boston and the name of the muggle bookstore owner he was living with.

Of the thirty-one, only Berta, Derwent the First's sister, showed open concern about the fourteen year old's absence. She was a self proclaimed Seer, but the majority of the Pierces saw her only as an insane quack and a mild embarrassment. She had never procreated, so her eccentricity was concidered to be safely contained within only herself.

Of the remaining thirty, Derwent II and his wife Jessica were withdrawn and had kept mostly to their manor over the summer. This was their first social event since their son's disappearance. They tried to pretend that nothing was wrong, but Jessica failed rather completely and Derwent II was considerably more taciturn than normal. Neither knew where their son was. Neither wanted to. They both believed he was already dead but did not want that final confirmation.

Four were mildly disturbed by the fact that their Beater was missing, and they would need would face the enemy a player short. Six were delighted for the same reason. One was confused, but this was considered to be Duesius's usual condition and it was disregarded without anyone bothering to try to explain Derry's absence to him.

One was disappointed, but Druscella Pierce had always been irrationally fond of her troublesome grandson.

All but three of the remainder thought Derwent the Third's death was long overdue, and went about their business with nary a thought on the matter.

One was frustrated. He had spent the last two and a half month looking for a boy who would stand out wherever he went, and had not found him. Tracking spells, hired investigators, and even his sister's crystal balls had failed to bring the boy to his attention.

One was a Secret Keeper, and the last had done all of the work to hide Derry and cast the Fidelius charm on her eleven year old cousin. These two gave every appearance of falling into the category of being worried about playing Quidditch minus a Beater.

Before the two week reunion finished, the thirty-two members of the New Hampshire Pierce clan would be reduced to twenty-eight. Of the deaths, two would appear natural, and one would clearly be murder.

Day 1
Boston, Massachussetts

Derry was unusually quiet. He sat at the window of his room and looked out over the streets full of muggle cars. Star Wars Episode II, in hardcover, sat on the window seat beside him with a bookmark three quarters of the way through, but it was apparently forgotten.

"Something troubling you, David?" an older gentleman asked in obvious concern as he entered the room with a box full of paperbacks.

Derry turned toward the voice and gave him a small grin. "I'm fine. It's just that," he looked out the window again wistfully, and shrugged. "I don't know. I feel like I should be someplace else."

The old man gave him a sympathetic smile, then tapped the rim of Derry's baseball cap. "Not much I can do about finding your folks, but I've still got those tickets for the Red Sox game tonight. What say you to that, kiddo?"

Derry's grin brightened. He had almost forgotten about those. "Great!" Watching baseball wasn't really on par with playing Quidditch, but as long as he was pretending to be a muggle, he was going to make the best out of the experience. He'd already watch all five Star Wars movies back to back, the two Lord of the rings extended DVDs back to back, and he was very upset that he made his visit during that lull between when Return of the King was in theatres and when it came out on video.

A Yankees/Red-Sox game was apparently the muggle equivalent to a Bugbear/Horntail game, so he'd been quite eager to see that, too. And tonight that series finally came to Boston. He bounded to his feet, no longer prone to tripping over the laces of his sneakers. He wore tan shorts and a Red Sox t-shirt matched his cap. His grin would make him easily recognizable to anyone who knew him from Salem, even if the clothes were foriegn.

"When do we leave?" he asked eagerly.

The man chuckled. "The game doesn't start for another five hours, Davie boy. Hold your horses." It had taken Derry a while to realize that was a muggle expression that meant 'be patient'. What that had to do with horses, Derry had figured out by accident. It had been fun then, and he repeated the demonstration now.

Derry pretended to grab a handful of reins. "I don't know if I can keep 'em in line that long, Mr. Baker." He faked getting tugged forward. "They really want to leave now."

Mr. Baker laughed again. Derry liked making him laugh. Father never laughed. "They do, or you do?" the man questioned, and pretended to grab a rein from Derry and pet the imaginary horse. "Got a sugar cube for them?" Derry rummaged in his shorts pocket and produced an imaginary sugar cube for the imaginary horse. "There, see? They're quite calm now."

Derry faked a giant heaved sigh of disappointment. "Traitors," he stage-muttered under his breath to the horses. He was rewarded with another laugh.

"Go read your book some more," Mr. Baker suggested, his brown eyes still bright with humour. "We have some time to kill before we go to the game, and I need to shelve these books." He gestured vaguely in the direction of the box of paperback had had carried in.

"Okay," Derry agreed, and returned to the window seat and Episode II.

When Mr. Baker finished putting away the books, he left the room. A few minutes after that, Derry heard his voice in the next room over, and snuck over to the phone. Picking up the receiver, he listened to the conversation.

"Hello, Miss Price?" Mr. Baker asked.

"I'm sorry," the voice on the other end apologized, "Miss Price is on vacation for two weeks. If it's an emergency, I can have her call you on her cell phone." The woman's tone suggested that she didn't really expect any emergencies to crop up.

Mr. Baker proved her correct. "No, nothing important. I was just checking to see if anyone has asked about David yet. I can't imagine why his parents wouldn't look for him." Derry bit his lip and tried not to wonder if his real parents had even noticed he was gone. "He's been in foster care for over two months," Mr. Baker continued. "School will be starting up again soon. Should I register him here?"

"We are still following up some leads, Mr. Baker," the woman on the line assured him. "I am sure his parents will be found before September. He still has amnesia?"

Derry heard Mr. Baker sigh. "He still can't tell me his parent's names or even what state he's from." Derry carefully hung up the phone, taking extra caution so that the other people on the line couldn't hear the disconnection. He was back in the window alcove reading Episode II when Mr. Baker walked in again a few minutes later.

Day 1
Mt. Pierce, New Hampshire

Derwent the Second sat at the dinner table, listening with half an ear to the conversation around him. He poked his fork at the steak on his plate, but even its tempting aroma failed to raise his appetite. If he had realized that his son's absence at the reunion would affect him this poorly, he would have declined this year. Not even Magnolia's death had taken him this hard.

Of course, every shout from the Quidditch Pitch hadn't reminded him of her loss either.

At home it was easier. Young Derwent had kept mostly to his own rooms and the yard. There were entire wings that the child rarely entered, and these were where Derwent II mostly lived. It was difficult to tell if the boy was even there at all until you found the stains on the persian carpet or heard the stained glass shattering. Only the living room was difficult to go into, as that was the scene for some of the boy's more memorable stunts, such as his ill-fated first attempt at 'lumos'.

But here. Here he had made himself known. Here there were other children near his age and he had reveled in that. Derwent II sighed to himself as his eyes drifted to the 'children's table'. Amelia was twenty-two, nearly twenty-three now. The youngest would finally be starting at Salem. Eleven, Malcolm's twins were. Twelve in less than a month.

Derry had lived to fourteen years. A few months more than that Love girl, yet no one would stand trial for the Pierce death. He was merely 'missing' and he would continue to be 'missing' forever. That did not change the fact that he was killed. That did not change the fact that his own father would do nothing to seek vengance. That his parents sat at the same table as the one responsible for his death and pretended, however badly, that nothing had changed.

His ears sharpened enough to pick out the words of his neices and nephews. Amelia was laughing. Belinda was sticking her tongue out at her sister. Derry's old team had won the first Quidditch game of the reunion through the arguable foul of every player on Amelia's team carrying (and using) a beater's bat (and not neccessarily on Bludgers). Derry's chair wasn't even in sight. One wasn't supposed to even notice he was gone. The children, Derry's closest family, didn't seem to miss him in the least. They had won. They didn't need him.

Derwent II felt ill. He put down his fork beside his untouched meal and excused himself. "I should check on Jessica." His wife hadn't even made it to the table before succumbing to what he now felt.

Day 2
Mt. Pierce, New Hampshire

The first day was torture for her. Belinda had never owned much patience, and she had already waited months since deciding on her course of action. However, she knew better than to do it the first day. The first day was for establishing that nothing had changed. The first day was for letting everyone know she was having fun even without Derry around. The first day, most importantly, was uneventful. Even her enemies would testify that she couldn't be responsible because everyone knew she didn't have patience.

She wasn't entirely sure where she had begged, borrowed, or stolen the patience that let her go to sleep that first night instead of doing something more proactive, but the first day was what it was supposed to be. Normal.

The second day dawned and every New Hampshire Pierce was still alive. None of them had even been the victim of a failed attempt. Belinda congradulated herself on her restraint, and waited for the second day to end. It would be tonight that the status quo would be shattered.

Day 2
Mt. Pierce, New Hampshire

She hides it well, Amelia Pierce decided, watching Belinda as her youngest teammember drove a bludger hard at Melinda during the second game of the Reunion. The girl would make a good undercover investigator some day. Assuming she gets a job instead of being herded into being a wife and mother. That idea struck Amelia as sickening, and she had to go chasing after a bludger to whack in Darius's direction just to distract her back into a properly Pierce frame of mind.

She couldn't let herself slip up now, the scheme had lasted this long. Now that it was almost over, it would be embarrassing to be caught out because she got mad over something that wasn't going to happen for another ten years if it happened at all.

Just the same, the next few days would would be critical. Amelia made a signal at Belinda, telling her to hurry up and catch the snitch. Amelia had two phone calls to make. After that, it would only be a matter of time before Derwent Pierce the First was dead.

Day 2
Mt. Pierce, New Hampshire

Derwent the First watched them all. Berta was her normal irritating self and everyone continued to avoid her as best they could. She did not like that Derwent Three was not available as he was the only one of the family who took her seriously. That was understandable, and Derwent the Original did not fault her for that. He faulted his sister for many things, but not that. He knew through veritaserum and imperius that she did not know where the boy was or even if he was still alive. The Fates had not seen fit to gift her with that information.

Derwent II was disappointingly upset over the matter. The man must have seen it coming. But, foreknowledge or no, Derwent Three's parents were just as obviously innocent of hiding the boy as they were guilty of greiving for him. It would not be them who could tell him where the boy had got to.

The next most likely suspect was currently leading her cousins to further mangle the rules of Quidditch into a game almost unrecognizable from it source. Every player in the air now carried a Beater's bat. He cursed Berta once more for convincing him that placing a Pitch on his property would strengthen the family. The only way he could see that prediction coming true was if he put down a full half of his great-grandchildren.

He wasn't convinced he wouldn't have to do that eventually, though. He watched through a spell-tinted window as young Belinda caught the snitch at the game broke up. There was the traditional duel between the captains, but that was short lived. Each knew the other's stregths and weaknesses as well as their own by now and it either finished quickly or didn't end at all.

The teams broke for lunch - convenient really that the games always seemed to end right at a meal time - but Amelia did not move toward the house. She went alone into the woods.

Interesting.

Derwent the First activated some of his property wards and watched with muted surprise as the young woman pulled out a shiny muggle device, poked at it, and held it against the side of her face.

"Hello," her voice was thin and insubstantial as it hung in the stagnant August air in Derwent the First's second floor sitting room. "This is Miss Price, is Mr. Baker available, David?"

A pause, then she began to speak again, "Yes, thank you, my vacation is going wonderfully. I'm calling to let you know that I just got word of a possible lead on David's parents. With any luck, he'll be back home in as little as ten days. Can I speak with him to see if the names Molly and Peter Jefferson ring any bells?"

Another pause, shorter than the first. "Hello again, David. Have you ever heard of Molly and Peter Jefferson?"

A slightly longer wait then, "No? Well, we can hope that seeing them might jog your memory. Do anything fun recently?"

The longest pause yet, then, even in the ward's projection, Derwent the First could hear laughter in her voice. "Sounds it. Now stay out of trouble for a few more days, we'll be coming for you soon, Derry. Bye. . . Bye."

Very interesting indeed. Derwent the First deactivated the ward and smiled to himself. Finally, he knew where to start looking for the boy. He and Amelia would need to have a little . . . chat . . . tonight.