DONT OWN ANYTHING NOT EVEN THE PLOT
Chapter 2
The rain began to fling itself to the ground with increasing conviction,and she wrapped her red cloak, the one she had sewn with her own fingers,tighter around her she saw the lights of Olivander's Inn,She fixed on them as if they were her salvation. She knew,of course that Potter might seek her out,but had whiskey to unload and reckless individuals to pay,and he would never imagine that she'd be on her way at first light,even if she had to walk.
Carefully she crept through the now muddy inn yard and pushed the outside door open. In the two days she'd stayed here,she'd learned that it squeaked if not handled properly,and that brought Olivander bustling out of his quarters to smile and bow and greet her as if she were the salvation of Potter's Village.
And all because of one little lie she'd been driven to tell.
God would forgive her,she was sure,for she'd told it in pursuit of truth and justice,but she didn't know if the hearty but sometimes odd Olivander would.
The hinges didn't make a sound. The taproom was empty,as it had been when she left,and she didn't understand how her luck had held,she didn't want anyone to know she'd been out,yet at the same time during the other evenings she had been here the townsfolk had congregated in the taproom for ale,butterbeer( Olivanders locally only served family recipe) and conversation. Briefly she wondered what kept them away,why the fire burned low and place looked abandoned. Then a burst of angry shouting from the kitchen sent her fleeing up the stairs. At the top she paused and listened.
Olivander's voice she could recognize, and he sounded both agitated and afraid. The other voice was a man's,lower less distinct,but with a tone that raised the hair on the back of her head.
Who was it?Gripping the rail in both hands,she crept down two steps and listened intently. Why did he sound so menacing?Heedlessly, she stepped on the edge of the third step and it creaked beneath her shoe. The voices in the kitchen stopped and she froze.
Footsteps sounded on the floorboards and Olivander stepped into the common room. She tried to melt into the shadows,and he stared up at her. He saw her; he seemed to stare right up at her she would have sworn he saw her,but he shrugged and walked back into the kitchen without any indication he'd noted her presence.
The conversation began again, lower this time,and she crept to her room,she took the key from her reticule and unlocked the inside,she shut the dark oak panels behind her and turned the key again,protecting herself from all corners.
It was just as she'd left it. This was,as Olivander had told her the night she arrived,the best bedchamber in the inn and one which had served Henry the Eighth when he had been stranded in a didn't know if she believed that,but certainly a gigantic old fashioned bed dominated the room.
It rested on a dais in the corner,and the canopy was hung with velvet curtains which could be drawn to keep in the warmth. Dragons decorated every bedpost and each rail between had been sanded and polished until it shone. Olivande had proudly told her that over two thousand geese had been plucked to stuff that feather mattress. She only knew she'd been lost in it when she slept.
The fire in her fireplace burned,piled high with sweet smelling one side was a settle,a bench whose high back protected her from drafts when she sat the other stood a desk and she always did,she went to the desk first. The candles had burned down while she was gone,but they still illuminated the papers that were organized there. Beneath them rested a diary.
Ronald's diary was the one reason she knew to be in Potter village now,tonight. It was the reason she'd scouted the area earlier in the day and had deduced that the cove would be the landing place.
She reassured herself the diary remained safe,then thoroughly covered it with the papers again Ronald had taught her that,Always hide things in plain sight, he 'd learned that while in service to Potter,and she found it in good advice.
Flushed with guilt,she opened the desk drawer and pushed her hand all the way to the back, Her fingertips touched the cold metal,and she drew out a small silver this matter,she ignored Ronald and his advice she couldn't bear to leave the deadly thing out, she34'd stressed her need for privacy to Olivander and been careful to lock the door whenever she left,but possession of such a firearm made her nervous.
It was Ronald's,and until he'd been killed she'd never imagined she would want to carry one. She knew how to use it,Her father had insisted on her learning self defense while they lived in Australia,but back in England,she'd believed herself inviolate. Now with Ronald's death,her veil of security had been ripped and she trusted no fellow being.
Strange,but her sense of being threatened by Potter had started long before her suspicions that he was the smuggler congealed into a certainty . Once when she turned suddenly,she caught him contemplating her with a look she'd seen only once before when her parents were alive and the whole family lived in Australia. She 'd seen a tiger concealing itself in high grass,waiting for his prey. Potter 's look betrayed a tiger like confidence in himself. He was sure he could have her if he wanted,but the time wasn't yet right. His expression had given her a shiver,but when she tried to verify her impression,all expression smoothed away from his face.
But as the months had worn on,she sometimes thought she could sense the impatient twitch of his tail and the way he crouched,waiting to pounce.
Shivering,she placed the pistol back. Stripping off her wet cloak,she flung it over the back of the settle,then laid her gloves by the feeble flames. She slipped out of her practical boots,now covered with mud,and placed them neatly by the gloves. Her dark red walking dress,so suitable for the city and for the occupation of a librarian was bedraggled from the nights ill use,and she touched the hem with trembling fingers.
She hadn't the money to replace it,every cent she owned had gone into this trip to Cornwall,she firmed her chin it was worth the loss of a mere gown to bring Ronald's murderer to justice,and she was close to that ,she repaired the fire so it burned brightly again,warming her hands all the while.
As her hair dried,the brown strands sprang away from her head and curled in wild abandon,but she didn't care tonight,who was going to see it anyway?
"She's at Olivander's " Harry Potter ,the Earl of Cokeworth, gave the boy a push.
"Go back and tell the others,then return and wait in the stable.I'll be out when I've got the information."
In the dark and the rain,he couldn't see Collin leave,but he knew he would be obeyed . Every one of his men was loyal to him,and only to him,but tonight something had gone wrong, he kicked the door to Olivander's in, he cursed the woman he'd seen fleeing from him earlier in the night.
