Chapter 24

Xion Lovedream

KIARA

I was still quite surprised that Sian was not angry at Chrissie for abandoning us, but whenever I asked her, Chris or Chrissie why this was, they would hastily change the subject. My friends were hiding something from me, that much was clear, but seeing as I had no idea what they were keeping from me, I decided to keep quiet, knowing that the truth would come out in the end. Sian, Chris and I were all glad to have Chrissie back, it seemed, and she appeared to be just as happy to be back with us, providing a fresh source of encouragement for us, especially when she was alone with me, collecting water and searching the undergrowth for mushrooms.

"Someone helped us," she kept saying. "Someone sent that lion. Someone's on our side. One Horcrux down, mate!"

Bolstered by the destruction of the locket, we set to debating the possible locations of the other Horcruxes, and even though we had discussed the matter so often before, I felt optimistic, certain that more breakthroughs would succeed the first. Sian's frequented saddening moments could not mar my buoyant spirits: the sudden upswings in our fortunes, the appearance of the mysterious lion, the recovery of Lion-Heart's sword, and above all, Chrissie's return, made me so happy that I found it increasingly difficult to maintain a straight face whenever Sian was around.

Late in the afternoon Sian told us that she wanted a few minutes to herself, so Chris, Chrissie and I went outside, under the pretence of scouring the bare hedges for non-existent blackberries, which gave us the perfect opportunity to exchange news. Chris and I had finally managed to tell Chrissie the story of our various wanderings, right up to what had happened in the Pride Lands; Chrissie was now filling Chris and I in on everything she had discovered about the wider wizarding world during her weeks away.

"Kara nearly got capture, y'know," she told us.

Chris and I looked at each other, both of us gobsmacked by this information.

"You're kidding!"

"How did that happen, Chrissie?"

"She said She-You-Know's name," Chrissie answered simply. "A bunch of Love Destroyers cornered her, Sam said, but she fought her way out. she's on the run now, just like us." She scratched her chin thoughtfully with the end of her wand. "You don't reckon Kara could have sent that lion?"

"Her Patronus is a lynx, we saw it at the wedding, remember?"

"Oh yeah ..."

We moved further along the hedge, away from the tent and Sian.

"Kiara ... you don't reckon it could've been our mother?"

"Your mother what?"

Chrissie looked a little embarrassed, but said in a low voice, "Ma ... the lion? I mean," Chrissie was watching me out of the corners of her eyes, "she had the real sword last, didn't she?"

Neither Chris nor myself laughed at Chrissie, because we understood too well the longing behind the question. The idea that Crighton was watching over us, despite all she had done to Sian, would have been inexpressibly comforting. Chris was the one to answer.

"No, Chrissie," he said. "After you left, Ma came back in her Animal Spirit form, a phoenix, the same as her Patronus, so it couldn't have been her."

"But Patronuses can change, though, can't they?" said Chrissie. "Todd's changed, didn't it?"

"Yeah, but if Crighton was alive, why wouldn't she show herself? Why wouldn't she just hand us the sword?" I asked.

"Search me," said Chrissie. "Same reason she didn't give it to you when she was alive? Same reason she left you an old Snitch, Chris a potion no one's ever heard of and Sian a book of kids' stories."

"Which is what?" I asked, turning to look Chrissie full in the face, desperate for the answer.

"I dunno," said Chrissie. "Sometimes I've thought, when I've been a bit hacked off, she was having a laugh or - or she just wanted to make it more difficult. But I don't think so, not any more. She knew what she was doing when she gave me the Deluminator, didn't she?" She - well," Chrissie's cheeks burned deep red and she became engrossed in a tuft of grass at her feet, which she prodded with her toe, "she must've known I'd run out of you."

"No," I corrected her. "She must've known you'd come back."

Chrissie looked grateful, but still awkward. I didn't know what to say, so I turned to Chris, who thought quickly, then said, "Speaking of Ma, have you heard what Meter wrote about her?"

"Oh, yeah," said Chrissie at once, "people are talking about it quite a lot. 'Course, if things were different, it'd be huge news, Ma being pals with Femwazz, but now it's just something to laugh about for people who didn't like Ma, and a bit of a slap in the face for everyone who thought she was such a good woman, not to mention all the ridicule and slander our family's come under because of this. Our name means mud at the Ministry these days. Sam reckons it's only a matter of time before Dad gets himself killed or arrested, only don't tell Sian I said that. Anyway, I don't know that it's such a big deal, though. She was really young when they - "

"Our age," I said, just as I had retorted to Sian, and something in my face seemed to decide Chrissie against pursuing the subject.

A large spider sat in the middle of a frosted web in the brambles. I took aim at it with the wand Chrissie had given me the previous night, which Sian had condescended to examine, and had decided was made of blackthorn.

"Engorgio."

The spider gave a little shiver, bouncing slightly in the web. I tried again. The time the spider grew slightly larger.

"Stop that," said Chrissie sharply. "I'm sorry I said Ma was young, OK?"

I had forgotten Chrissie's hatred of spiders.

"Sorry - reducio."

The spider did not shrink. I looked down at the blackthorn wand. Every minor spell I had cast with it so far that day had seemed less powerful than those I had produced with my phoenix wand. The new one felt intrusively unfamiliar, like having somebody else's hand sewn to the end of my arm.

"You just need to practice," said Sian, who had approached us noiselessly from behind and had stood watching anxiously as I tried to enlarge and reduce the spider. "It's all a matter of confidence, Kiara."

I knew why she wanted it to be all right: she still felt guilty about breaking my wand. I bit back the retort that sprang to my lips: that she could take the blackthorn wand if she thought it made no difference, and I would have hers instead. But remembering what Chris said about Sian being fragile, and wanting to keep the peace between the four of us, however, I agreed. Chris, Sian and Chrissie shared a small smile, before Sian went back and vanished behind her book once more.

All four of us returned to the tent when darkness fell, and I took first watch. Sitting in the entrance, I tried to make the blackthorn wand levitate small stones at my feet: but my magic still seemed clumsier and less powerful than it had done before. Sian was lying on her bunk reading, Chris was carving wood with an old branch he had found, while Chrissie had taken a small wooden wireless out of her rucksack and started to try to tune it.

"There's this one programme," she told me in a low voice, "that tells the news like it really is. All the others are on She-You-Know's side and are following the Ministry line, but this one ... you wait 'til you hear it, it's great. Only they can't do it every night, they have to keep changing locations in case they're raided, and you need a password to tune in ... trouble is, I missed the last one ..."

She drummed lightly on top of the radio with her wand, muttering random words under her breath. If Chris and Sian were listening to what she was doing, they paid no notice to it. For ten minutes or so Chrissie tapped and muttered, Sian turned the pages of her book, Chris kept carving wood, and I continued to practice with the blackthorn wand.

Finally Sian climbed down from her bunk. Chrissie ceases her tapping at once.

"If it's annoying you, I'll stop!" she told Sian nervously.

"It's fine," Sian told Chrissie, who sighed in relief; noticing that something was going on, Chris put down his tools and joined us.

"We need to talk," Sian told us.

I looked at the book still clutched in her hand. It was The Life and Lies of Susan Crighton.

"What?" I said apprehensively. It flew through my mind that there was a chapter on me in there; I was not sure I felt up to hearing Peter's (twisted) version of my relationship with Crighton. Sian's answer, however, was completely unexpected to my ears.

"I want to go and see Xion Lovedream."

I stared at her.

"Sorry?"

"Xion Lovedream. Lincoln's mother. I want to go and talk to her!"

"Er - why?"

She took a deep breath, as though bracing herself, and said, "It's that mark, the mark in Willow the Writer. Look at this!"

She thrust The Life and Lies of Susan Crighton under my unwilling eyes and I saw a photograph of the original letter that Crighton had written Femwazz, with Crighton's familiar thin, slanting writing. I hated seeing absolute proof that Crighton really had written those words, that they had not been Peter's invention.

"The top," said Sian. "Look at the top of the letter, Kiara!"

I obeyed. For a moment I had no idea what she was talking about, but, looking more closely with the aid of my lit wand, I saw that Crighton had drawn a tiny version of the same three-lined mark inscribed upon The Tales of Willow the Writer, as did Chris, who had come up behind me to see what all the fuss was about.

"We - what are you - ?" Chrissie began, but Sian cut across her.

"It keeps cropping up, doesn't it?" she said. "I know Kovu said it was Femwazz's wand, but it was definitely on that sign in the Pride Lands, and I don't know how, but something about this mark makes me think that it's been around long before Femwazz came along! And now this! Well, we can't ask Ma or Femwazz what it means - I don't even know whether Femwazz's still alive - but we can ask Ms Lovedream. She was wearing the symbol at the wedding. I'm sure this is important, Kiara!"

I did not answer immediately. I looked into her intense, eager face and then out into the surrounding darkness, thinking. After a long pause, I said, "Sian, we don't need another episode like the Pride Lands. We talked ourselves into going there, and - "

"But it keeps appearing, Kiara! Ma left me The Tales of Willow the Writer, how do you know we're not supposed to find out about the sign?"

"Here we go again!" I felt slightly exasperated. "We keep trying to convince ourselves Crighton left us secret signs and clues - "

"The Deluminator turned out to be pretty useful," piped up Chrissie. "I think Sian's right, I think we ought to go and see Lovedream."

I threw her a dark look. I was quite sure that Chrissie's support of Sian had little to do with a desire to know the meaning of the three-line rune.

"It won't be like the Pride Lands, Kiara," said Chris gently from next to me. "Lovedream told us at the wedding that she's behind you, remember?"

"Chris is right, Kiara," said Chrissie. "The Mystics' been for you all along, it keeps telling everyone they've got to help you!"

"I'm sure this is important!" said Sian earnestly.

"But don't you think, if it was, Crighton would have told me about it before she died?"

"Maybe ... maybe it's something you need to find out for yourself," said Sian, with a faint air of clutching at straws.

"Yeah," said Chrissie sycophantically, "that makes sense."

"No, it doesn't," snapped Sian, "but I still think we ought to talk to Ms Lovedream. A symbol that links Ma, Femwazz and the Pride Lands? Kiara, I'm sure we ought to know about this!"

"I think we should vote on it," said Chrissie. "Those in favour of going to see Lovedream - "

Her hand flew into the air at the same time as Chris'. Sian looked surprised at Chrissie's enthusiasm, but raised her hand nonetheless.

"Outvoted, Kiara, sorry," said Chrissie, shrugging.

"Fine," I said, half-amused, half-irritated. "Only, once we've seen Lovedream, let's try and look fro some more Horcruxes, shall we? Where do the Lovedreams live, anyway? Do any of you know?"

"From what we know, they don't live far from ours," said Sian. "I'm not exactly sure where, but Dad always points to the hills whenever he mentions them. Shouldn't be too hard to find."

When Sian had returned to her bunk, I turned to Chrissie and lowered my voice.

"You only agreed to make yourself look good for Sian."

"You're trying too hard, Chrissie," said Chris, shaking his head at her. "Any more like that, and Sian's going to start getting suspicious."

"All's fair in love and war," said Chrissie brightly, "and this is a bit of both. Cheer up, it's the Christmas holidays, Lincoln'll be home!"

We had an excellent view of Dawson Manor, its shield defending itself from human eyes well and truly gone: Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I looked down upon the ground house from the breezy hillside on which we stood, its white marble shining brightly in the sunlight.

"It's weird, being this near, but not going to visit," said Chrissie.

Sian, who had been staring at her home with such longing in her eyes, turned to Chrissie, confused, and said, "What do you mean? You were there for Christmas, weren't you?"

"I wasn't at the Manor!" said Chrissie, with an incredulous laugh. "Do you think I was going to go back there and tell them all I'd walked out on you? Yeah, Tanya and Geri would've been great about it. And the others, yeah, they'd have all been really understanding."

"But where have you been, then?" asked Sian, surprised.

"Same and Ferdinand's place. Sandwaves Cottage. Sam's always been one of the decent ones in our family, Sian, you know that. She - she wasn't impressed when she heard what I'd done, but she didn't go on about it. She knew I was really sorry. None of the rest of our family knew I was there. Sam told Dad she and Ferdinand weren't going home for Christmas because they wanted to spend it alone. You know, first holiday after they were married. I don't think Ferdinand minded so much. You know how much he detests Christmas carols."

Sian was first to turn her back on Dawson Manor.

"Let's try up here," she said, leading the way over the top of the hill.

We walked for a few hours, with me, at Sian's insistence, hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak. Once or twice I saw Sian stumble, just as she did after we had Apparated, but Chris was always there to help her. I was beginning to worry about Sian, for she never stumbled. Anyhoo, the cluster of low hills appeared to be uninhabited apart from one small cottage, which seemed deserted.

"Do you think it's theirs, and they've gone away for Christmas?" said Sian, peering through the window at a neat little kitchen with geraniums on the window sill.

"Nah. It seems too ... normal a place for the Lovedreams to ever consider living in," Chris speculated.

"Yeah, I'm with Chris on this one, S.D.," said Chrissie. "In the case of the Lovedreams, we'll know which is theirs when we see it. Let's try the next lot of hills."

So we Disapparated a few mils further north.

"Aha!" shouted Chrissie, as the wind whipped our hair and clothes. Chrissie was pointing upwards, towards the top of the hill on which we had appeared, where a most strange-looking house rose vertically against the sky, a great, white cylinder with a ghostly moon, barely visible, hanging behind it in the afternoon sky. "That's got to be Lincoln's house, who else would live in a place like that? It looks like a giant rook!"

"It's nothing like a bird," said Sian, frowning at the tower.

"I believe Chrissie meant a chess rook, Sian," said Chris, "otherwise known as a castle."

Chrissie had walked ahead of us and therefore was first to reach the top of the hill. When Chris, Sian and I caught up with her, panting and clutching stitches in our sides, we found her grinning broadly.

"It's theirs," said Chrissie. "Look."

Three hand-painted signs had been tacked to a broken-down gate. The first read "The Mystics Editor: X. Lovedream", the second, "Pick Your Own Mistletoe", the third, "Keep off the Dirigible Plums".

The gate creaked as we opened it. The zigzagging path leading to the front door was overgrown with a variety of odd plants, including a bush covered in the orange, radish-like fruit Lincoln sometimes wore as earrings. I thought I recognised a Snargaluff, and gave the wizened stump a wide berth. Two aged crab-apple trees, bent with the wind, stripped of leaves but still heavy with berry-sized red fruits and bushy crowns of white-beaded mistletoe, stood sentinel on either side of the front door. A little owl with a slightly flattened, hawk-like head, peered down at us from one of the branches.

"You'd better take off the Invisibility Cloak, Kiara," said Sian, "it's you Ms Lovedream wants to help, not us."

I did as she suggested, handing her the Cloak to stow in the beaded bag. She then rapped three times on the thick, white door, which was studded with iron nails and bore a knocker shaped like an eagle.

Barely ten seconds passed, then the door was flung open and there stood Xion Lovedream, barefooted and wearing what appeared to be a stained nightgown. Her long, white, candyfloss hair was dirty and unkempt. Xion had been positively dapper at Sam and Ferdinand's wedding by comparison.

"What? What is it? Who are you? What do you want?" she cried, in a high-pitched, querulous voice, looking first at Chris, then at Sian, then at Chrissie, and finally at me, upon which her mouth fell open in a comical, perfect "O".

"Hello, Ms Lovedream," I said, holding out my hand. "I'm Kiara, Kiara Pride-Lander."

Xion did not take my hand, although the eye that was not pointing inwards at her nose slid straight to the scar on my forehead.

"Would it be OK if we come in?" I asked. "There's something we'd like to ask you."

"I ... I'm not sure that's advisable," whispered Xion. She swallowed and cast a quick look around the garden. "Rather a shock ... my word ... I ... I'm afraid I don't really think I ought to - "

"It won't take long," I said, quite disappointed by this less-than-warm welcome.

"I - oh, all right then. Come in, quickly. Quickly!"

We were barely over the threshold when Xion slammed the door shut behind us. We were standing in the most peculiar kitchen I had ever seen. The room was perfectly circular, so that it felt like being inside a giant pepper pot. Everything was curved to fit the walls: the stove, the sink and the cupboards, and all of it had been painted with flowers, insects and birds in primary colours. I thought I recognised Lincoln's style: the effect, in such an enclosed space, was slightly overwhelming.

In the middle of the floor, a wrought-iron spiral staircase led to the upper levels. There was a great deal of clattering and banging coming from overhead: I wondered what Lincoln could be doing.

"You'd better come up," said Xion, still looking extremely uncomfortable, and she led the way.

The room above seemed to be a combination of living room and workplace, and as such, was even more cluttered than the kitchen. Though much smaller, and entirely round, the room somewhat resembled the Room of Needs on the unforgettable occasion that it had transformed itself into a gigantic labyrinth comprised of centuries of hidden objects. There were piles upon piles of books and papers on every surface. Delicately made models of creatures I did not recognise, all flapping wings or snapping jaws, hung from the ceiling.

Lincoln was not there: the thing that was making such a racket was a wooden object covered in magically turning cogs and wheels. It looked like the bizarre offspring of a workbench and a set of old shelves, but after a moment I deduced that it was an old-fashioned printing press due to the fact that it was churning out Mystics.

"Excuse me," said Xion, and she strode over to the machine, seized a grubby tablecloth from beneath an immense number of books and papers, which all tumbled on to the floor, and threw it over the press, somewhat muffling the loud bangs and clatters. She then faced me.

"Why have you come here?"

Before I could speak, however, Sian let out a small cry of shock.

"Ms Lovedream - what's that?"

She was pointing at an enormous, grey spiral horn, not unlike that of a unicorn, which had been mounted on the wall, protruding several feet into the room.

"It is the horn of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack," said Xion.

"No it isn't!" said Sian.

"Sian," I muttered, embarrassed, "now's not the moment - "

"But Kiara, it's an Erumpent Horn! It's a Class B Tradable Material and it's an extraordinarily dangerous thing to have in a house!"

"How d'you know it's an Erumpent Horn?" asked Chrissie, edging away from the horn as fast as she could, given the extreme clutter of the room.

"There's a description in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them! Ms Lovedream, you need to get rid of it straight away, don't you know it can explode at the slightest touch?"

"The Crumple-Horned Snorkack," said Xion very clearly, a mulish look upon her face, "is a shy and highly magical creature, and it's horn - "

"Ms Lovedream, I recognise the grooved markings around the base, that's an Erumpent Horn and it's incredibly dangerous - I don't know where you got it - "

"I bought it," said Xion dogmatically, "two weeks ago, from a delightful young witch who knew of my interest in the exquisite Snorkack. A Christmas surprise for my Lincoln. Now," she said, turning to me, "why exactly have you come here, Miss Pride-Lander?"

"We need some help," I said, before Sian could start again.

"Ah," said Xion. "Help. Hm." Her good eye moved again to my scar. She seemed simultaneously terrified and mesmerised. "Yes. The thing is ... helping Kiara Pride-Lander ... rather dangerous ..."

"Aren't you the one who keeps telling everyone it's their first duty to help Kiara?" said Chrissie. "In that magazine of yours?"

Xion glanced behind her at the concealed printing press, still banging and clattering beneath the tablecloth.

"Er - yes, I have expressed that view. However - "

" - that's for everyone else to do, not you personally?" said Chrissie.

Xion did not answer. She kept swallowing, her eyes darting between the four of us. I had the impression that she was undergoing some painful internal struggle.

"Where's Lincoln?" asked Sian. "Let's see what he thinks."

Xion gulped. She seemed to be steeling herself. Finally she said, in a shaky voice difficult to hear over the noise of the printing press, "Lincoln is down at the stream, fishing for Freshwater Plimpies. He ... he will like to see you. I'll go and call him and then - yes, very well. I shall try to help you."

She disappeared down the spiral staircase and we heard the front door open and close. We looked at each other.

"Well that's a fine way of showing you her support, Kiara," said Chris disapprovingly.

"She's probably worried about what'll happen to her and Lincoln if the Love Destroyers find out I was here," I said.

"Well, I agree with Chris," said Sian. "Awful old hypocrite, telling everyone else to help you and trying to worm out of it herself. And for heaven's sake keep away from that horn."

I crossed to the window on the far side of the room. I could see a stream, a thin, glittering ribbon lying far below us at the base of the hill. We were very high up; a bird fluttered past the window as I stared in the direction of Dawson Manor, now invisible beyond another line of hills. My parents and my brother, Kion, were over there somewhere. We were closer to each other today than we had been since Sam and Ferdinand's wedding, but none of them could have no idea that I was gazing towards them now, thinking of them, my family. I supposed I ought to be glad of it; anyone I came into contact with was in danger, Xion's attitude proved that.

I turned away from the window and my gaze fell upon another peculiar object, standing upon the cluttered, curved sideboard: a stone bust of a handsome but austere-looking wizard wearing a most bizarre-looking headdress. Two objects that resembled golden ear-trumpets curved out from the sides. A tiny pair of glittering blue wings was stuck to a leather strap that ran over the top of his head, while one of the orange radishes had been stuck to a second strap around his forehead.

"Look at this," I said.

"Fetching," said Chrissie. "Surprised she didn't wear that to the wedding."

We heard the front door close and a moment later Xion had climbed back up the spiral staircase into the room, her thin legs now encased in Wellington boots, bearing a tray of ill-assorted teacups and a steaming teapot.

"Ah, you have spotted my pet invention," she said, shoving the tray into Sian's arms and joining me by the statue's side. "Modelled, fittingly enough, upon the head of the handsome Rowan Raven-Wings. Knowledge is to power as wit is to love!"

She indicated the objects ear-like trumpets.

"These are Wrackspurt siphons - to remove all sources of distraction from the thinker's immediate area. Here," she pointed at the tiny wings, "a Billywig propeller, to induce an elevated frame of mind. Finally," she pointed to the orange radish, "the Dirigible Plum, so as to enhance the ability to accept the extraordinary."

Xion strode back to the tea tray, which Sian had managed to balance precariously on one of the cluttered side tables.

"May I offer you an infusion of Gurdyroots?" said Xion. "We make it ourselves." As she started to pour out the drink, which was as deeply purple as beetroot juice, she added, "Lincoln is down beyond Waterstone Bridge, he is most excited that you are here. He ought not to be too long, he has caught nearly enough Plimpies to make soup for all of us. Do sit down and help yourself to sugar.

"Now," she removed a tottering pile of papers from an armchair and sat down, her Wellingtoned legs crossed, "how may I help you, Miss Pride-Lander?"

"Well," I said, glancing at Sian, who nodded encouragingly, "it's about that symbol you were wearing around your neck at Sam and Ferdinand's wedding, Ms Lovedream. We wondered what it meant."

Xion raised her eyebrows.

"Are you referring to the sign of the Deathly Hand of Holiness?"