Apparation was risky, but it was a chance the trio had to take. Arriving by floo at the Tonks residence was rude at best, but deadly at worst. Wards may have been weak, but they were still wards. And depending on the level of protection at work, they could kill an intruder. So they opted for apparating from Grimmauld's patio to just outside the picket fence surrounding Andromeda's quaint home.
It was late September, but still her garden thrived. Flowers still bloomed on vines and ivy flourished green on walls. Proof positive, in Harry's opinion, that she was the witch they were looking for.
Sure enough, her wards were relatively weak. He felt them shimmer just barely when they passed through, but her front door opened just the same. They'd been announced as welcome guests, no doubt. Very welcome.
"Harry! Hermione! Ron!" There were more hugs. Andromeda was a warm witch. Perhaps it was some loneliness that made her so, but Harry suspected she'd always been this way. So different from her cold and bigoted family…
"Hello, ." He took a sloppy cheek kiss with a grin. "I'm sorry we came unannounced."
"Nonsense." She was leading them up the stone path to her open door. "Come anytime. I've told you to! I'm always happy to see you. All of you! And Teddy will be happy, too." Her thick black curls - so reminiscent of her mad, dead sister's - were tamed today by a wide cotton headscarf.
Inside, jackets were collected and hung on pegs. Little Teddy toddled in the living room, steadying himself occasionally on a tea table. His hair pinkened brightly when he saw the trio and he pointed. "Wawee!"
"Hello, Teddy." Harry swept the boy up. A bittersweet reminder of lost friends, the boy had his mother's metamorphmagus tendencies and his father's unfortunate hairline. "You're getting bigger every day."
Teddy reached for Hermione. "Nonnee!" Harry passed him over and Hermione began fussing over the boy with coos.
"I'll fix up a tea," Andromeda said. "What brings you here, Harry? You look determined."
"Well." He followed her into her inviting kitchen. The waning magic did not seem to have adversely affected her much. But Harry knew she was a witch who had plenty of muggle experience. Her husband Ted had been muggle-born, after all. "I'll confess we're here on a bit of urgent business."
"Oh." She dropped a sachet into her kettle. "I hope nothing terribly serious?"
"Quite serious, actually," he muttered. "It's about the waning magic."
She was busily setting up a tray with cups and saucers. Harry helped with the biscuit tin she'd produced. "Well, I don't know how in the world I can be of any use in regards to that, Harry."
"You may be all the use in the world, ." He took the heavy tray while she retrieved the charmed tea kettle. They headed into the cozy living room where Ron and Hermione entertained Teddy.
"Tea!" Teddy shouted joyously.
"Yes, pumpkin. Tea." Andromeda gave the boy a biscuit. His hair went yellow. "Now." She sat and began serving. Perhaps there was some innate tendency to hostess in white witches. "Tell me what's so urgent that it's brought you all here to visit me."
Hermione produced the parchment. "This is a prophecy," she explained. "Handed to us by Minerva McGonagall and spoken by Sybil Trelawney. We think it's the key to restoring magic for the wizarding world."
Andromeda read as carefully as Hermione had, balancing the parchment on her lap like the valuable it was. She smiled ruefully when she finished a third read-through. "Harry. You certainly are a magnet for prophecies, aren't you?"
"That's what I said!" Ron grinned.
"What can I do?" Andromeda handed the parchment back to Hermione. "Other than the mythology, I'm afraid none of it makes sense to me."
Harry leaned forward. Ron and Hermione watched him intently. "Ms. Tonks. Are you a white witch?"
She regarded him for several seconds before her face melted in sympathy. "Oh, I see. I understand now. Oh, Harry…" She shook her head. "The white Black witch… How could I have missed that?"
Harry sighed deeply. "So you are. Thank Merlin."
"No!" She touched his knee gently, comforting. "No, Harry. I'm sorry...but you have the wrong sister."
"The wrong sister…" It was a minor defeat felling his victory. "Oh."
"But if it isn't you -" Hermione began.
"Then who is it?" Ron finished.
"Narcissa." Harry closed his eyes when he breathed the name.
"Narcissa?" Ron looked from Harry to Hermione.
"Narcissa Malfoy," Hermione clarified.
"Oh yeah…" Ron nodded. "I forget she was a Black once." Then his face screwed up. "There's no way! She's a Malfoy! And awful! Hermione, she watched while Bellatrix carved you up on her drawing room floor, for fuck's sake!" His pale face flushed with anger. "There's no way she'll ever help us. And there's no way I'll ask her."
Harry considered. He understood his friend's passion, but… "She lied to Voldemort. She saved my life."
"To save her own ingrateful son!"
"Ron." Hermione reached for him, but he was standing.
"I'm taking Teddy out. It's a nice bloody day. Come along, Teddy." Teddy was happy to accompany Ron, excited for play in the sun.
The group left behind sat in silence, each absorbing the possibilities. It was Andromeda - calmly sipping her tea - who broke the pall. "I've not seen or spoken to my little sister in… a lifetime," she sighed. "And I can imagine what she's become. Just the thing my mother and father wanted her to be. But I'll tell you. There was a time when she was as innocent as Teddy is, and if I was the Black family's secret shame, she was their secret fear."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
"She was so strong. Especially for a child. It was frightening!" Andromeda produced her own swishy willow wand, fingered it as she spoke. "Elementals...they can't help it. Their magic is harder to control. She did things…" She shook her head. "When she was sad, it rained. When she was angry, the fire flared out of the floo. When she was happy… The flowers would bloom in the snow. It was beautiful sometimes, and horrifying other times."
"Unpredictable," Hermione interjected.
"Exactly. So our parents intervened." Andromeda continued. "They would punish her. Ridiculously. Lock her in her room. Starve her. Sometimes father even…" But she shook her head, some memories too difficult to dredge. "It was abominable! They finally hired this dreadful old witch to 'train' her…" She shuddered. "I left my family behind for numerous reasons. Mainly because I fell in love with Ted. But I would have eventually left even without him. And for a time, I wanted to take Cissy with me. Steal her away."
"I imagine she would have been very much different had that happened," Harry said. He took a deep breath. "We'll have to speak to her."
"Harry," Hermione began worriedly.
"I know," he said. "But we have to try. And besides…"
"Besides what?"
He looked at Hermione. At Andromeda. "She did lie to Voldemort. She did save my life. In the face of everything she could lose as opposed to everything she had to gain, she lied." He stood up tiredly, as if a great weight was placed on his shoulders. "Thank you, Ms. Tonks. I suppose we'll have to speak to your sister now."
Andromeda stood to see them to the door. "I wish you luck, Harry. Hermione. I can't imagine what lies ahead of you. But I hope you'll take care."
"We will." Harry hugged the hostess. "And we'll be in touch."
"Excellent." In the sun, Hermione went to collect Ron and Teddy from their play beneath an oak. Quietly, Andromeda caught hold of Harry's sleeve. Stopped him. "When you see her," she began haltingly. "When you see her...tell her…" She stuttered and gave up.
Harry nodded. Understood. "I will."
"Thank you, Harry." When Teddy ran to his grandmother, she lifted him into an embrace. They waved at their visitors one last time, then made their way into the house.
Just beyond Andromeda's fence, the trio paused to regroup. Ron seemed sullen, angry. As soon as the Tonkses were secreted, he spoke. "I'm not going to Malfoy Manor, Harry. I'm not going to give Draco or his mum the satisfaction of asking for their help. The prophecy is wrong. I'll keep looking. There are other people we can -"
"The prophecy is right, Ron." Hermione insisted. She walked a ways away, rubbing frustratedly at her hair. "Do you think I want to go there? Back to that place? Do you think I want to look in the faces of the people who watched me tortured? I don't!" Her hair bristled with staticy magic. "But people can change," she hissed. "I have to have faith in that. I have to hope that it's true for them. Because apparently, without her, we're all going to lose our magic. And I can't live that way. Can you?"
His nostrils flared. Harry watched the exchange nervously. Ron nodded. "Fine. I hope it's true, too. But I'm still not going."
"Fine." Hermione wasn't angry, but she wasn't best pleased. She turned to Harry. "We should go there straight away. Before our apparation luck wears off." To Ron. "Are you going back to Grimmauld then?"
"No." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'm going home. To the Burrow. Let me know what happens." And he spun away with a frustrated pop. A light breeze blew. Hermione sighed into it.
"Hermione. If you really don't want to do this, don't. I can go by myself."
"No. We stick together. With our magic like this, it's safer." She frowned. "Besides, I can't avoid it forever. And I need to know if it's true."
"Right." Harry offered his arm. "Shall we then?"
"I might rather face the Dark Lord again."
He grinned. "Yeah. Me too."
Malfoy Manor was a damned sight less imposing in the daylight. In fact, it was rather beautiful. Hermione took in its alabaster facade with what she hoped was concealed surprise, but Harry knew her too well.
"It's sort of pretty," he said, peering through the charmed gates. His voice seemed to rouse the sinister snake face intricately woven into wrought iron.
"Who wishes entry?" It demanded in a hiss.
"Harry Potter."
The face portrayed no emotion, but solidified once more. Moments passed. Breezes blew. In the distance, a mournful peacock called. "What if they don't let us in?" Hermione asked.
"They will." Harry was certain. She'd not seen his face so determined in a long time, and she wished she shared the sentiment.
But his certainty won out. With an echoing creak, the gates swung open. The walk down the white stone path was interminable. When the manor rose into view in its full glory, Hermione's breath nearly caught.
She'd only seen it in the black of evening. The distant stars had turned it into terror, all shadow and dark stone. In the daylight, it was a glistening homage to opulence. A fountain of twining marble snakes sprayed arcs of water, and she saw pale koi swimming in the tureen as they passed.
On the wide steps, details emerged. Intricately carved narcissi mingled with dragons of Celtic knotwork in the flagstone on a backdrop of heavy M's. While she couldn't help being impressed with the aesthetic, she was disgusted by the lurid lavishness. She supposed it could be attributed to her more middle class muggle upbringing, and grudgingly wondered if there wasn't a hint of envy at work.
So distracted was she by the surroundings, she'd not heard the ash doors open wide. "Potter."
"Malfoy."
She decided silence was her best option and watched the exchange between Draco and her best friend tensely.
"What do you want?" Draco looked the same for the most part, although his eyes were a bit more shadowed, and his shoulders a bit more sloping. He looked...tired.
"I'd like to see your mother. It's urgent."
"Obviously." The blonde's silver eyes drifted coolly over Hermione. "Granger. I doubt either of you would come here for a nosh." Hermione's eyes narrowed and Draco looked back to Potter. "Well, how could we turn away a visit from the recent savior of the wizarding world? Come in, Potter."
Harry ignored how his name sounded like a curse from Malfoy's lips. Hermione ignored how his eyes regarded her like a lesser thing as she passed his welcoming arm. And again, she was stymied by the beauty of her surroundings.
Marble floors of the purest white she'd seen. Smooth stone walls. Windows ceiling high open for the pleasant breeze. They passed several rooms and she clearly recognised the dark wood floor of the drawing room - felt a palpable chill emanating from the wide doorway.
Fortunately, they passed that room as well. In fact, they walked the entirety of a massive corridor, beneath a spiral of stone stairs, and through a pair of French doors hung with sheer tulle onto a spacious sandstone patio. There, standing infallibly proud, was Narcissa Malfoy.
She was smaller than Hermione remembered. Smaller than when she was haughty and high on ire, insulting blood status and spitting murderous intent. But somehow, she was still intimidating as hell in a flowing light blue frock. Her hair was pulled into a regal chignon, odd black and white flashing. Her wide eyes spoke of caution, defense, fight or flight. But there was something else there in the darkening edges of blue iris: curiosity.
"Mother." Draco walked around them, stood beside his matron. "Our visitors are for you, it seems."
"For me?" Her voice was hoarse, as if from disuse, but still deep with false pride. "I'm honoured and intrigued. Please." Her wand was so quick in her hand Hermione tensed. But she only flicked it to summon two chairs. "Sit."
The iron chairs sauntered gracefully to the waiting table. It seemed this witch's magic was little affected by the declining thread. Hesitantly, Harry and Hermione did sit. On the polished table before them was an obviously interrupted game of wizard's chess. A cursory glance told Hermione that the white fleet was poised to win in less than five moves, and the dainty fan beside said fleet told her that Narcissa was poised to be the victor. The pieces milled about in place, awaiting resumation of their game.
Only after the guests were seated did the Malfoys sit, shifting in their own chairs to regard the encroachers. "Draco and I have had our tea," Narcissa announced. "But if you care for some…"
"We've just had tea," Harry informed coolly. "With your sister."
This caught the icy witch off guard. Hermione watched a brief flash of emotion marr the perfect porcelain face. Draco noticed, too, and tensed warningly, ready to defend his defender. "I have no sister."
"Yes, you do." Harry's tone was unfailing. "And whatever your relationship with her, she's given me some information that leads me to believe you're about to become very important to this world. Whether reluctantly or not."
"Watch how you speak to my mother, Potter." Draco snapped.
But Narcissa raised a hand to calm him. Her eyes were slim, searching things. "What do you want from me, Harry?" Her use of his first name didn't escape all listening ears. "What is it I can do to make myself so dreadfully important?"
Harry held his empty hand to Hermione, and she reached into her back pocket, fumbling for a moment for the folded prophecy. When she finally produced it, Harry gestured to Narcissa, and Hermione gulped. She saw her own hand shaking as she offered the parchment, and the Malfoy witch saw it, too. The snake recognising fear in its prey.
She stared at the missive for a moment, let the girl languish before reaching for it. Her fingers were thin and elegant, nails manicured to a high shine. Purposefully, she brushed Hermione's knuckles. The touch was chilling.
Slowly, she unfolded the parchment. Scanned the words quickly, then flipped it to study the figures scrawled on back. Draco glanced over her elbow the entire time, and when she was done reading, she offered it to him as if it was the fashion page of the Prophet. "Another prophecy, Potter?" Her brow arched magnificently. "Who died for you to retrieve this one? I hope no...friends."
He ignored the goading, but Hermione saw his face burn. "This one came from McGonagall."
Draco read the prophecy more slowly than his mother had, deliberately. He spoke it aloud in fact.
"The magic of the land doth wane and be gone,
and heroes of olde quest newly strong
must recover that which from us is torn.
They seek to part the mists of Avalon,
but need the magic of the singular one
coupled fast with the dragon sun.
From past dark pitch,
with future light rich,
seek ye out the white black witch."
"Hmph. I didn't realise the old bat was a seer," he muttered after his recitation.
"Trelawney spoke it," Hermione blurted.
Draco laughed, cast the parchment to the table. "The drunk and the bat? Perhaps you should check your sources better." He scowled. "What does this have to do with my mother?"
Harry collected the prophecy carefully. Refolded it before leveling a direct gaze at Narcissa. "Are you a white witch?"
"How dare you!" Draco was standing, ready for a confrontation. Hermione was quick to her feet as well. But again Narcissa's firm hand reigned the Malfoy heir back into his seat. "Mother, they can't -"
"Shhh!" She hissed and he quieted. Her eyes had not left Harry's. "Why would you ask me that?"
"Your sister -"
"My sister lives lies, Mr. Potter." She spoke calmly, but her nostrils flared, belying her stoicism. "Even as a child she lied. What should make me accept her sincerity now?"
Harry leaned forward, frustrated. "I imagine what you were told of your sister and what is true about her are two very different things. And according to her your childhood wasn't so perfect, either."
"You know nothing of my childhood!" Her voice rose for the first time since their encounter began. "Don't presume -"
"Is it true you couldn't control your magic?" Harry chose to barrage her with questions, to prevent her chances of interrupting or diverting. "That you could make it rain? Make flowers bloom? That your parents punished you for it? Had a tutor come to -"
"Stop it!" Completely unsettled, she stood, shaking. "Get out of my house." Her voice was a threatening growl. A hint of Parseltongue mingling. Draco stood as well, a hand on his mother's shoulder.
"It's true." Potter pushed his luck. Hermione fingered her wand in her belt loop, ready to be ready for all the good her magic would do them. "You know that the prophecy speaks of you. A white witch of the Black family. You can do so much right now, Mrs. Malfoy. You have the opportunity to save so many - to help our world! We can do this together."
But she was unconvinced. Unconvinced and still quivering with anger. "You bring this...rambling of a drunken charlatan into my home, accuse me of being a...magical freak, and expect me to what?" She threw her arms wide. "What is your great plan, chosen one? I assume once you find your...black and white witch, you have an idea what to do with her?"
Harry blinked. Hermione frowned, seeing him falter for the first time. "Well…"
"Yes. Well." Narcissa's chin rose, pointed to her decision. "Leave now, Mr. Potter."
He stood. Leaned on the table till he was very near her face. "Please, Mrs. Malfoy. Just…"
"Potter. My mother's asked you to leave." Draco spoke respectfully if lowly. "I'll show you out."
Harry sighed. Hermione felt herself relax slightly. "Fine." But he placed the prophecy on the waiting game of wizard's chess. "But take one more look at it. Then do what you will." Malfoy eyes fell on the folded papyrus, and Harry turned toward the French doors.
They were quiet until they reached the manor foyer. "Thank you for coming, Potter." Draco muttered. "Hope you enjoyed the gloat."
"Stop it, Malfoy." Harry said. "This is bigger than any of us. Bigger than your father's death sentence. Bigger than the reparations your family had to pay. It's not about you for once."
The doors swung open. Draco leaned in the frame as Harry and Hermione descended the steps. "So it's not about you either, Potter? Aren't you in the prophecy?"
"We're all in it, Draco." Hermione turned, decided she could drop some first names, too. "We're just in it for magic's sake. Do you want to live like a muggle for the rest of your life? Or do you want to take the chance - no matter how small - and try to save it?"
The falling sun caught his lip curl and shadowed it. Made him look menacing despite the inkling of fear in his eyes. "Don't come back," he sneered. "Unless you'd like to re-visit the drawing room next time."
She rolled her eyes. Not surprised. But Harry spoke. "We won't be back, Malfoy. It's already hard to apparate. And it's only going to get worse." He glanced to the gates so far away. "Hope your wards hold up. Come on, Hermione." And with the last lingering threat, they trekked down the walkway for their final shaky apparation back to Grimmauld Place.
Back to wait.
