Set Me Free

[Felicity Riley]

Doing well was easily measured physically. It was the difference between the drowning she had felt prior to her arrival and the sadness she felt now—sadness laced with betrayal, guilt, and the feeling of being stifled. The latter, though, she had been assured was normal, almost healthy, and easily surmountable when the time came. Doing well, though, had little effect on her routine. She still spent her day up in her tower (as she thought of it; her hair had grown a couple of inches in the months she had been here, and so she jokingly called herself Rapunzel), met with her doctors, answered letters with lies, and occasionally saw this relative or that. Soon was far too abstract a concept when it came to her freedom, and had been a word bandied about for the past fortnight.

In spite of the uncertainty in her life, though, Felicity still greeted her brother—she was surprised to see her mother had not accompanied him—with a genuine and warm smile, embracing him lightly before they took their respective seats on the small couch in her room. Frederick had been one of her most frequent visitors during her time at the asylum, and the one who least often made her feel out of place.

“How is the baby?” she asked tentatively, trying to mask her discomfort on the subject by fiddling with something on the side table. She had begun actively inquiring about her son a month and a half prior, though did not always find it easy to call him by name. This reluctance, though, was not from detachment, which had been so prevalent the last time she had been home. No—she was afraid, afraid that her negligence might have harmed him, guilt-ridden over her actions, and anxious that she could not see him herself, could not make a second attempt to bond with the child she had borne.

[Freddie Prewett]

It did not feel right for his sister to be locked up like that. Sure, her ‘crime’ was a rather severe one - she had put little Gideon’s life in danger. But Freddie still did not think that it was right for James to send her away to some asylum.

Or Mr. Riley, as he had started thinking of that man after he had so heartlessly sent his favourite sister away. He used to quite like that man. He was making Fee happy and, to a loving brother, that was enough to make him like a man. But after Mr. Riley had sent Fee into this sort of exile, Freddie felt little respect towards his character. He had obviously sent Felicity away because he was a coward who did not have the strenght to be there for his wife when she truly needed him. If he truly cared for Felicity, he wouldn’t have gotten rid of her like that. He wouldn’t have treated her like she was some insane criminal.

“He is quite well” Frederick softly replied to his sister. “He’s rather jolly and bright. If you ask me, he’ll probably speak his first words before long.”

  

[Felicity Riley]

So she had done him no lasting harm. That was good. While she doubted an infant could retain any such memories (she hoped as much, at the very least), Felicity could not help but worry that her momentary lapse of sanity had done him permanent physical—or even emotional—damage. Even if her own relationship with him was not exactly flawless, Gideon would surely do well in the long run.

“Is he not rather young for that?” the redhead asked timidly, not wanting to present herself as an authority on babies—she had surely lost that right.

[Freddie Prewett]

“Is he?” Freddie asked with a slight frown. As far as he knew babies often uttered their first words before turning a year old and his nephew was now what, half a year old?

“Well, maybe it will not be that soon, but I’m soon it will be sooner than with other babies!” Frederick commented rather jokingly, to cover his previous possible mistake. He’d have to ask mother about babies and when they first started talking when they next met.

“You will have to keep me from turning him into a complete Quidditch fanatic, that’s for sure!” he commented then. Talking about such things, would hopefully lift his sister’s mood a bit. Just because she and little Gideon had a bad beginning, it didn’t mean that it would continue that way.

  

[Felicity Riley]

Felicity’s knowledge of children was limited to her younger siblings and the children of her elder siblings, but she was quite sure that Freddie, at least, had not spoken anything sensible until he was nearing two. Gideon was not even a year old yet—was he really likely to speak?

Perhaps if he had mastered that skill in the summer, what had happened would not have happened.

Felicity could not help but smile at the quidditch comment. She knew that, if her brother had been the first of five instead of the fourth of five, he would have played professionally instead of taking a post under Faustus. Gideon did not share his uncle’s misfortune, and if Frederick had his way and the boy was disposed to it, her son would likely have a professional career. “Do try not to convert him too soon,” the redhead remarked dryly. “A parent worries enough without adding flying into the mix!”

[Freddie Prewett]

“I shall try!” Frederick replied. “I shall try, until he’s at least old enough to ride a broomstick. But then I make no promises. The earlier he starts practicing, the sooner he’ll get on his House’s team!”

Nevermind that they didn’t even know if the boy wasn’t a squib yet. Freddie was sure that he’d be a great Quidditch player, just like his uncle. He had great hands for becoming a snitcher. Frederick could already see it.

“He’ll be a Hufflepuff just like his uncle and mother, if you ask me.” Frederick continued confidently.

  

[Felicity Riley]

Fee gave her brother a warning glare, but couldn’t maintain such ill-expression for long before a laugh escaped her lips. How good it felt to laugh with her brother again! “Hardworking and loyal; I think I would be quite pleased to have a son with such traits!”

[Freddie Prewett]

“He’ll be hardworking just like his mother.” Freddie confirmed with a smile. “He’ll probably follow your footsteps in healing. But after he retires from his professional Quidditch career as a player of Puddlemere United.”

And, hopefully, he’d be nothing like his father. A coward and a traitor.

  

[Felicity Riley]

Felicity could not help but roll her eyes good-naturedly. She did hope that Gideon would have something of her to him, that in assaulting him as she had she had not somehow snuffed it out. With two healers as parents it seemed likely that the babe would follow that course—but then, Felicity had had a housewife and an auror as examples, and had not elected either path.

“Perhaps if you had played yourself he might!” she teased brightly. “I daresay he’ll take more after his Uncle Freddie than his Uncle Felix.” Had Felix even visited the house since her confinement? The witch did not know.

[Freddie Prewett]

Freddie felt a tingle of regret when Felicity mentioned him playing. He would have played hadn’t he not been a fourth son. But with him being born when he was, he needed a more respectable job. The department of magical law enforcement was not so bad, he supposed.

“I certainly hope he does!” Freddie commented with a grin. “Can you imagine it? Our little Giddy, a reporter? No, that job requires nosiness than neither you nor me possess.”

  

[Felicity Riley]

No. Her little Gideon was made of sterner stuff than a quidditch player or a reporter, of that she was very much sure—however brief her acquaintance with her son, Felicity knew him well enough to know that he had great potential, though perhaps that was a maternal instinct kicking in.

Though even if it was only the latter, the redhead thought it a welcome feeling. Had it come sooner, she would not have been in her current predicament.

“I daresay his father would not like it either,” she pointed out. “I do love Felix, but it is not a very becoming job, is it?”

[Freddie Prewett]

“It certainly isn’t!” Freddie agreed. “But I suppose some people’s ambitions only reach to others’ business.”

To Freddie, being a reporter was the fancier version of being the gossipy lady of the neighbourhood. The Daily Prophet was an important part of their life, but it hardly required any talent to write for it. Just nosiness.

  

[Felicity Riley]

Freddie was certainly right on that count—she hoped dearly that Gideon would prove more ambitious professionally than his uncle, perhaps following the example of another uncle such as Faustus.

The clock chimed, causing the witch to look up from her tea. “Oh Freddie, I do think I’ve kept you longer than I was supposed to,” she offered in sheepish apology.

[Freddie Prewett]

Freddie felt a jab of disappointment, but he knew better than to strain his sister. They could see each other as much as they wanted to once she was out of the asylum.

“Worry not, sister dearest, you know I could spend the whole day with you if I could do so,” Freddie said kindly.

After he bid his sister goodbye, Freddie walked to the parlour of the asylum from where he apparated home.