The group found their seats soon after boarding, Arthur and Penelle sitting together in a booth and Olmeir taking a seat across from them. Arthur leaned on his shoulder, glancing casually out of the window while the train lurched around them before chugging forward.
Olmeir sat in silence, the glare of noon spilling through the window and causing his lenses to gleam. Meanwhile Penelle leaned onto Arthur to see what he saw.
"Wow, that's a great view," she commented after a moment of watching buildings blur past.
"Ya, it is," Arthur replied, somewhat squashed between Penelle and the window. Her closeness caught him.
She moved away quickly after and sighed, "I think trains are amazing."
Arthur smirked. "Just thought you'd let everyone know?"
Penelle blinked. "Why not?" she asked with her head tilted. "What do you think about trains, Olmeir?"
Olmeir folded his arms. "They are mass passenger and/or cargo vehicles."
"Ya, but what do you think?" Penelle insisted. "Do you like them?"
"I prefer a more efficient, less cumbersome method of transport."
"Like a car?" Arthur offered, glancing at Olmeir who nodded.
Penelle scoffed. "But then you couldn't look at the beautiful day outside."
Arthur gave her a playful look. "Cars have windows, Penelle."
"Not big ones like this!" she huffed and glared at Arthur. They smiled at each other.
"We have arrived," Olmeir announced.
Moments later the train could be felt coming to a stop and Penelle got up and started down the aisle followed by Arthur and then Olmeir. They got off the train and stopped behind Penelle who slowed to take in the scenery of Hogsmeade. A chilled breeze drifted through the air as others left the train and walked around them.
"Do you see it?" Penelle asked while scanning the lay of townhouses and snow-capped spires. Fiery orange glowed in the windows of nearly all of the grayish, bricked buildings.
"Three Broomsticks?" Arthur squinted against snowflakes while walking forward slowly.
Olmeir followed behind them and pointed at their destination. "There, by the trolley."
"Oh, I see it!" Penelle quickened her pace. "Come on!"
Arthur and Olmeir followed her across a cobblestone street and down the sidewalk, passing witches and wizards strolling about, cloaks and capes billowing in the cold air. Warmth greeted them upon entering the Three Broomsticks along with an inviting smell of honey and spice.
"I will secure a seating arrangement," Olmeir announced, breaking off from the other two to head for the booths along the wall.
"Want anything, Olmeir?" Penelle called after the Ravenclaw.
Olmeir shook his head as he walked away. "No, thank you." He sat down in a booth and opened his book to begin reading while Arthur and Penelle walked over to the counter. Arthur turned around and leaned on the counter with his back while Penelle waved to get the attention of the bartender.
"What'll it be?" an older man asked, casually coming up to the counter.
"One butterbeer, please." Penelle looked at Arthur. "You don't mind sharing do you?"
"That's fine." Arthur smirked, thinking about Olmeir's warning. "Wouldn't want to overdose or anything."
Penelle sighed, smiling at Arthur. The bartender returned to the counter with a tall and frothing glass and Penelle took the butterbeer in both hands. Arthur followed her as she walked back to the booth that Olmeir had chosen. She sat down and Arthur slid into the bench-like seating beside her.
Olmeir looked up at the pair, icy eyes peeking over his glossy black frames. "You decided to share?"
Penelle stuck a straw into the glass and took a sip. "Nope, it's all mine." She grinned.
"Oh, it's like that?" Arthur lamented playfully.
"I'm kidding." Penelle replied cheerfully while sticking yet another straw into the butterbeer. "Here, have some."
Arthur leaned forward to take a sip. "Don't mind if I do." The candy-like beverage gave him a sweet chill in his mouth.
"Sure you don't want anything Olmeir?" Penelle asked while holding onto one of the straws. "I could go back."
"Quite alright," Olmeir spoke, looking down at his book and the note Arthur had given him. "'I am close to a breakthrough."
Arthur swallowed, butterbeer leaving a refreshing tingle on his tongue. "On what?" he asked. "The message?"
Olmeir only nodded, adjusting his glasses as he cross referenced the scribbled message with his research text.
"That's great, Olmeir." Penelle cheered before taking another drink from the butterbeer.
Arthur moved a little to let her lean closer to the glass between them. She looked at him, blue eyes angled upward as she sucked on the straw. Arthur watched her as she left the glass to sit up and brush away golden curls that had fallen into her face. Her mouth glistened with bronze butterscotch and Arthur found himself unable to look away.
Penelle's lips parted as Arthur leaned closer to her; there was a question on her face but she couldn't find words. They kissed. The slick sweetness of butterbeer exchanged between them and a hot spark warmed Arthur's heart. It only lasted for an instant, Penelle pulled away blushing and licking her lips. Arthur realized he hadn't breathed in the last minute and was about to say something until Olmeir broke his train of thought.
"I have the message," he stated, completely unaware of the kiss that happened just across from him. "It appears to be a poem."
"I love poems!" Penelle squealed before taking another sip of butterbeer.
"What does it say?" Arthur asked, determined to know. He had a feeling this message would not be pleasant.
Olmeir adjusted his glasses, yellowish glare washing over his lenses from the dim light inside the pub. He was looking down at the note Arthur had given him, referencing his textbook occasionally, double checking.
"Descendant of mine," the ravenclaw began speaking. "I am now one of the cursed. I have found you, now you must find me. The affliction worsens by the passing hour." Olmeir paused and Arthur was silent, wondering what would come next. "My misery must be undone. Aid me lest you never love again."
Penelle turned to Arthur and Olmeir looked at him over his glasses. "What does it mean?" Olmeir questioned. Penelle twirled her hair, thinking. "Sounds like someone needs your help, Arthur," she offered.
"Yeah…" Arthur scratched his head, trying to make sense of the vague lyrics Olmeir had deciphered. "I don't know," he muttered. Penelle had been there with him; could the message be directed to her? Arthur shook his head. emThat makes even less sense/em. He needed more information. "Is there anything else?"
Penelle straightened up to look at the paper across the table. "It looks like some kind of diagram?"
"It's a map," Olmeir stated surely. "There is Hogwarts in the center," he said pointing to the middle of the ambiguous shape located beneath the scrawled writing.
"You're right." Arthur muttered quietly while scanning the upper region of the map. "That's the Forbidden forest."
Penelle placed a finger on an icon that was outlined with a circle. "What's that?" she asked.
"I don't know," Arthur sighed. "I've never been that far into the forest. Olmeir?"
Olmeir pushed on his glasses, distant. "I would not know either, as I've never entered the forest at all."
Arthur smirked, shaking his head. He looked back at the map and tried to identify what Penelle was pointing at. "Maybe a cave?" he offered to the table.
"Oh, I hope not." Penelle's eyes widened. "Caves are creepy."
"Not to worry." Olmeir assured the frightened blond, plainness drying his voice. "Surely Arthur has no intention of going there."
"What? I mean maybe it's not the best idea but-" Arthur paused, conflict complicating his choice of words. "The message, I have to find whoever sent it."
"Be rational." Olmeir's cobalt eyes peered over his glossy black frames to fix on Arthur. "What motive do you have for investigating this?" Olmeir returned attention back to his book and papers before continuing. "Beyond juvenile curiosity?"
Arthur ground his teeth before slapping the table and leaning toward Olmeir. "Descendant of mine! That means whoever wrote this is a family member!" Arthurs voice raised and yet Olmeir did not react.
"It could be a lie," Olmeir responded nonchalantly. "Alternatively, the message may not be meant for you."
"Okay but what if it is?" Arthur countered, unable to understand Olmeir's meaning. "Not only are they asking for help, they're also threatening me. I have to do something-"
The door to the bar opened and Penelle gasped before grabbing Arthur's shoulder. He turned to her with a question on his face which she answer with a gesture over her shoulder. Arthur leaned around Penelle to see a Slytherin witch enter the Three Broomsticks. Her pale skin and indigo eyes instantly cooled the ambient warmth within the pub.
"Sipher," Arthur groaned, exchanging a glance with Olmeir and Penelle before returning his attention. Three other Slytherin witches trailed in her wake and made their way to a booth along the wall opposite of Arthur and company.
Arthur watched Sipher and her friends walk in and sit down before forming an idea in his head. He quickly reached to take the paper with the decoded message on it, remembering the defiance Sipher showed when dealing with Professor Umbridge as well as the unforgivable acts performed in the Room of Doom.
"Arthur?" Penelle asked as Arthur hurried to stand and leave the table.
"I'll be right back," Arthur said looking back and giving her a grin. "Keep Olmeir company."
Olmeir sighed. "Surely you aren't going to trust that information to her."
"She was there, Olmeir." Arthur shrugged, walking away. "She already knows."
Arthur left his friends and headed over to a group that wasn't so welcoming. Several pairs of eyes fell upon him as he approached, the last of which belonging to Sipher. Her ways weren't pleasant but a deviant like her could be useful for the situation Arthur was in. She scanned Arthur up and down, black-stained lips pursed in a sinful manner. Arthur looked down at her seated at the booth as she looked up at him, ignoring the other witches who had accompanied her to the pub.
"Looks like my wait is over," Sipher purred, eyeing Arthur with a smoldering glare.
Arthur swallowed, making a conscious effort maintain his demeanor. "I know what the message says," he stated firmly.
Sipher's eyes lit and she sat up some in the booth. "Show me."
"It shows a hidden place in the Forbidden forest," Arthur said, ignoring her demand.
"Where?" she asked, curiosity growing in her by the second though it was hard to tell as such from the outside.
Arthur made a face. "Follow me." He wanted her to come with him, not take the location for herself. "I'll take you there."
"No." Sipher stood and Arthur took a step backward, suddenly remembering how dangerous she was. "Give me the paper," she ordered.
"We've already gone through a deal on your terms." Arthur spoke. His voice faltered but he did not yield. "I'm not making that mistake again."
Sipher's dark lips pulled into a smirk. "I will get what I want," she said while reaching to her belt and drawing her wand. A metallic click accompanied the six inches of steel that sprung forth from the hilt in her hand. "How much pain must I inflict before that happens?"
Arthur shook his head and folded the map back into his pocket. "I don't want to fight here," he said, knowing how much trouble such an incident would cause. Patrons in the bar had already begun to take notice of the brimming conflict.
Sipher aimed at Arthur. "That makes one of us," she hissed.
p Diffodio!/em" Sipher flicked her wrist and a blast of shredding magic leaped from her knife toward Arthur. It tore across the space between them before ripping a jagged swathe into his chest. Arthur screamed and fell backward, his vision flooded by the reddish mist of his own blood. Shocked people in the pub began shouting and running for the exit at the sight of Arthur who now laid bloody on the floor.
His harshened heartbeat pulsed so thickly in his ears that he felt the footfalls of people running more than actually hearing them. All he could feel was the raw, shredded flesh of his torso oozing while the world blurred around him. He could sense more spells being cast close to him, possibly even flying directly over his downed form. Someone dragging him by his shoulders was the last sensation Arthur was aware of before consciousness left him.