Disclaimer: See the first chapter.
Background: See the first chapter.
Summary: In the dark times when the Dark Lord returned to power, he searched for new followers and wished to regain what had been lost. But did all of his Death Eaters join him of free will? Iris Halither looks back and tells her tale, and discovers a horrible truth about herself...
Note: The story is divided into chapters, the chapters shaped into parts. One part is seven chapters, no matter the lengths of those. Some chapters are short, some are long. That's how they were written.
-
The Tale of a Death Eater
Part II: Seeing
the Foreseen
Chapter 12
-
I woke sometime in the dawn of a new day. The rude man in the portrait was asleep, grunting and snoring. I sat up in the bed and knew what I had to do... I swung my legs over the side of the bed and pulled my boots back on my sore feet where after I dressed in my cloak and walked towards the window. Carefully I unlocked it, glancing back at the portrait. Nothing. Then I opened the window and leaned out, looking down. The spare room was on the first floor. So it was a long way down when I was as weak as I was... at the moment...
I crawled out of the window, sitting on the windowsill. I looked down warily and let go, falling to the ground. Landing on my hands and knees in the snow, I quickly stood up and looked around. Seeing nothing that would cause trouble I slowly headed towards the small forest area near the mansion, slipping in the snow once in a while.
The night sky was clear and starry for once, a half-moon peering down from some lone clouds. The snow had melted a bit during the night, a fine ice layer covering the surface, which made walking a very unsteady task.
Finally reaching the trees I looked back at the Malfoy Mansion, hoping no one had noticed me. I smiled. No one in sight. No one there. Just me. "Okay, you can do this," I muttered to myself, pacing between the trees. "But where--?" I stopped walking and looked up. Of course...
I had only been there once in my life, but I remembered the surroundings clearly. The question was... could I focus on them enough? I was in no mood to be splinched and certainly not in a situation where I could risk it. But if I didn't... Well, I had to.
I closed my eyes, concentrating hard... Opening my eyes again, I smiled.
...I had reached my destination.
-
About a week after my escape from Azkaban and the Malfoys, I was slowly getting settled. I had spent the last of my money renting a room in a small wizard-inn. I had fled to Scotland, Edinburgh to be exact, where I was steadily building a new life.
I worked in the inn to pay for the room. But I went under a false name as to not be recognised. And I had coloured my hair and brows with a spell... yes, a spell. I succeeded a spell. It actually looked like it was my natural hair-colour. And, with a wary hand, I had also cut it considerably shorter. Meaning, it got very short.
So this was my fresh start as the black-haired witch Iris Dauntell...
-
"Pigs," I muttered, shaking my head as I picked up some empty bottles of butterbeer from some drunken wizards' table. They were so drunk they had fallen asleep.
The Scottish inn was a bit more alive than the Leaky Cauldron had been. And the inn itself was a bit of a mixture between a smelly pub and a comfy café. But most of the visitors were suspicious-looking, if you ask me. I'm most certain some were Death Eaters. But I can't be sure. It actually wasn't so many Death Eaters that knew each other, as to keep the identity of each Death Eater safer. And that was just an advantage on my behalf.
I walked to the bar and put the bottles inside a box under the sink. Sighing, I leaned against the wall, looking at my feet. It had been a long day. But I was glad. I was relaxed. It felt like an enormous weight of worry had been lifted off my shoulders since I had left the Malfoy Mansion. For the first time in years I felt like I had somewhere I could feel safe. Hogwarts had been the only other place I'd felt comfortable. I know that I didn't have my own home and my own things, but I had what I needed. And that was good enough for me. The inn was my sanctuary.
I looked up when the door opened. Two men entered, stomping snow off of their boots and quickly pulling off their soaked cloaks. I walked to their table as they sat down. "What can I do you for?" I asked with a kind smile.
"Nettle tea, thanks," said one of the wizards, a comfortable man with a bushy grey moustache and same colour hair.
"Um, I'd like some eggnog, please. After all, it's Christmas soon," said the other wizard who looked much younger than the other. He had brown hair with a touch of red to it and soft brown eyes.
"I'll be right back," I said and walked to the kitchen. "Eggnog and nettle tea, Edward--"
"I know, I know," said the innkeeper with a smirk. Edward was a kind man. He respected his costumers and didn't care what sorts came to his inn. "Everyone's welcome," he reminded me often, "no one should feel unwanted."
I exited the kitchen and walked back behind the bar, looking at the two strangers now and then. They were talking to each other in calm voices. Though, I couldn't hear anything they said. It was odd how two men could be so cheery in those days, with all the danger that lured. But I admired it. I admired how they could just forget the world outside.
When Edward came with their drinks I brought them to their table. "There you go," I said and smiled once again.
"Ta, thanks, darlin'," said the elder man and sipped of his nettle tea contently.
"Do you want a room, gentlemen?"
"John won't be staying, but I'd like a room," said the younger man.
"Ah, and I might as well get home to me better half. Don't want teh get a rebuke t'night!" said John and stood up. He used a Drying spell on his cloak and boots, stood up and pulled his cloak back on. "I'll see yer sometime later, Keen."
"Merry Christmas!" said the other as the elder wizard exited the inn.
"Isn't Keen a rather strange name, sir? And for a Scot? If you don't mind me asking?" I asked, grabbing a key from the small chest by the bar.
"Just something they call me. Name's Kieran. And, I'm probably more English 'an Scottish anyway. Most of my family comes from England," he said and smiled.
I smiled bashfully, feeling a small blush showing on my face. I had never met a man who had actually been nice. It was such a nice opposition to how the Death Eaters had acted towards me. "Room 4, Sir," I said and handed him the key. "Do you wish to pay for your stay now?"
"Just write me up. I'll be staying for the holidays," said Kieran.
"Breakfast in your room?"
"That would be lovely. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to head to bed. G'night!"
"Goodnight, sir." I'm actually impressed I remembered how to be polite...
-
I finished closing up for the night and watched Edward for a moment as he put brooms to work, sweeping the floor. With another flick of his hand the chairs stacked up on top of the tables while cloths cleaned the counter of the bar. He was a talented wizard, very good at wandless magic and nonverbal spells, which was useful.
"I'm off to bed, Edward," I said and dried off my hands with a towel.
"Sure," Edward said and sent me a quick glance.
I sighed and looked round the room, spotting a cloak by one of the tables. Kieran had apparently forgotten it. I picked it up and walked upstairs. I headed towards room 4 and knocked on the door. Soon after, it was opened. "Excuse me, but you forgot your--" I trailed off seeing he wore no shirt. I quickly looked away. "You... you forgot your cloak..." I said and gave him his cloak.
"Thanks," Kieran said. "...You aren't blushing, are you?" he asked and raised a brow.
"N-no... of course not. Goodnight, sir!" I quickly turned on my heel and walked down the corridor, entered my room and shut the door. I'm sure my face was completely red of embarrassment. I shook my head and stepped away from the door after locking it. When I walked further into the room I sat down on my bed.
I gasped all of a sudden when flames appeared in mid-air and a small piece of parchment fell to the floor. I stared at it and eventually ventured towards it, bending down to pick it up. My face turned into one of horror when I read the words written in black ink:
Beware of the shadows.
You
are a walking dead, Iris Halither.
