During the second week of classes, the realization hit Sara that she would have to study for her N.E.W.T.s until it killed her. And that would be piled on top of Head Girl duties, working in the Hospital Wing, classes, and extra lessons with McGonagall. What was more, Slughorn had approached her after a lesson and asked if she would be willing to tutor a few students struggling in the lower levels of Potions. She had agreed before realizing how busy she would actually be. So there was that too. Not to mention setting aside a little time every few nights to send a letter to George so he knew she was still alive.
The second weekend of school, Sara was invited to a dinner hosted by Professor Slughorn. She was loath to attend, trying to bury herself in work, when she was dragged from the common room by Jason.
"If I have to go, you have to go," he said as he pulled her down the corridor.
"But I'm not dressed for a nice dinner," she lamented, taking note of her jeans and baggy grey sweater.
"We're popping in for a visit and a quick bite, not a ball."
Slughorn's office was rather remarkable compared to the other teacher's offices. It had a high domed ceiling, and an ornate chandelier hung from it. The walls were decorated in gold and silver hangings, very ornate yet simple. There was a large round table, around which dinner had already started.
"Mr. Samuels, Miss Roth!" Slughorn boomed from his seat at the table. "Welcome! Join us, please!"
As she took a seat next to Hermione, she was glad to see that she was not underdressed. Hermione, Ginny, and Blaise were in very similar outfits. Cormac was in khakis. Everyone else was in what could be called business-casual—except for Melinda Bobbin, who was wearing a dress one might wear to a ball.
"Please, dig in," Slughorn gestured to the dishes on the table as he took a bite of his own food.
Sara was glad that she hadn't stuffed herself at dinner. All of the dishes were laden with the richest foods Sara had ever seen. Golden brown birds she was certain she didn't know the name of, exotic-looking vegetables of every color imaginable, desserts made of chocolate, fruit, and even one on fire. She took a little bit of each and dug in, listening to the chatter around her.
She learned that Melinda was from a small family. Her parents owned a chain of apothecaries, including the one in Diagon Alley. She was incredibly quiet, but Slughorn seemed to find it endearing, as he laughed jovially at something Sara couldn't hear. She also got to hear about Blaise's newest stepfather. He worked for the Ministry in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. She also got to hear Hermione attempt to explain dentistry to those who were not familiar with it. She had to hold in a chuckle when Slughorn asked Ginny and Dean about their budding relationship. Ginny turned a violent shade of scarlet, and Dean looked almost sour. Slughorn had no way of knowing that hours earlier, they had been locked in a shouting match.
"And what about you two?" Slughorn asked as he turned toward Sara and Jason. "You two are rather close. Head Boy and Girl, and all. Something more going on?"
"Absolutely not," Sara chuckled.
"She wishes," Jason smirked.
"Hardly," Sara scoffed.
"Sara's been dating my older brother for almost two years now," Ginny jumped in.
"Oh-ho!" Slughorn exclaimed. "Still in school?"
"No, he and his twin brother own a new joke shop in Diagon Alley. I worked there this summer."
"Wonderful," he said cheerily, turning to Cormac to discuss his uncle.
Sara was distracted as her empty plate was pulled away from her by knobbly hands. She looked over to see—
"Kreacher!"
The aged house elf looked up at her, widened his eyes, and dropped into a low bow.
"Good evening, young mistress," he mumbled to the floor.
"What on earth are you doing at Hogwarts?" she asked.
"Kreacher was sent here after his old master's death. Now Kreacher works in the kitchens."
"Oh," she nodded. "Well, thank you for all the work you do. We all appreciate."
Kreacher was still staring at the ground, immobile. Sara watched him as he slowly lifted his head to stare at her once more.
"The young mistress is too kind. Just as her mother was."
He took her plate and scooted off to collect the others. Sara looked up to see Hermione watching her curiously. Sara just shrugged and attempted to return to the conversation, but her mind was on her mother now. She knew that they looked strikingly alike—from the blonde curls to the emerald eyes. How could she have gotten her mother's kindness though? She had never known her mother, and kindness wasn't really something you inherited like eye color or height, was it? She had never been more jealous of the people who had known her mother. People who has been allowed to spend more than a year of unremembered life with her. People who had been allowed to see her kindness firsthand…
Before Sara knew it, it was October. Professor McGonagall informed Sara and Jason that there would be a Hogsmeade trip, and they would be required to attend. As Head Boy and Girl, one of them would need to be present for the releasing of students in the morning and the other for the corralling of them in the evening. The only thing that allowed Sara to wrench herself from her bed at 8 that morning was the promise that George would be meeting her there. As soon as she had learned that there would be a Hogsmeade day, she had written him, and been sent back a very earnest reply.
So, Sara threw herself in the shower, thinking only of George and how much she had missed him over the last month and a half. Thirty minutes later, she slunk into the Great Hall hungry and in need of caffeine. She was bundled up in two sweaters, a vest, jeans, winter boots, a scarf, hat, and gloves. She took a seat at the Gryffindor table and poured herself a cup of hot coffee, trying to ignore the chatter around her as she stole a spare copy of the Prophet from a few seats over.
It was the same as it was everyday. The front page and many subsequent pages were all about the most recent Death Eater attacks. However, one in particular stuck out to Sara. A small headline on the fourth page read "Malfoy questioned for information." The article said that Narcissa had been taken in for questioning a few days prior. She hadn't revealed anything prudent, but the fact that they were onto the Malfoys was a start.
Sara had also taken to scanning the Obituaries, just in case, and her eyes halted on a name: Nastia Isator. Isator was certainly not a common name. Could this be a relation of Ivan's? She vowed that she would write him to see. It had been too long since she'd heard from him anyway. He'd gotten a job working in Romania with Charlie, though she was sure a letter from her wouldn't be unwelcome.
She noticed students were staring to file out of the Great Hall, so she grabbed a muffin and made her way to the oak front doors. Filch was there waiting with a clipboard in one hand and a Secrecy Sensor in the other.
"You'll be checking off the names as they come," he grumbled, passing the clipboard. "I'll be out here making sure they're not taking anything out that they shouldn't be."
Sara nodded dutifully, turning toward the growing line of students. She left unasked the question most on her mind: what could be so illegal that they had managed to get it in but weren't allowed to take it out?
It was more than an hour and a half later that Sara finally passed the clipboard back to Filch and headed off toward Hogsmeade. He hadn't bothered to scan her, though she wasn't taking anything illegal with her anyway. She made the trot down the hill in record time, scanning the crowd of people as she approached. Finally, she spotted a tall head of orange hair that she could recognize in a heartbeat.
"George!" she exclaimed, now flying down the path.
The orange head turned, revealing George's smiling face. He barely had time to brace himself before Sara flew into his arms. Her lips covered his in a heated kiss, their tongues twining in a familiar dance. They didn't care about the eyes, the people whispering behind their hands. When they pulled back, he leaned his forehead against hers.
"I'll never be able to put into words how much I've missed you," he mumbled.
"I've never been more bored in all my years at Hogwarts," she smirked.
"I'm getting sentimental and you're cracking jokes?"
"Merlin, I think we've changed places!"
George returned her to the ground, but their fingers locked as they made their way to the Three Broomsticks.
"Tell me something I might not know yet," he said.
"Hmmm," Sara pondered, racking her brain. "I've told you almost everything… Oh! I've been taking special lessons with McGonagall! And I don't have to go to Transfiguration as often."
"What are the lessons for?"
"That's a surprise," she winked.
"Come on…"
"Nope."
The pub was crowded as ever. Sara and George were like vultures, clutching their drinks tightly and scanning the room for anyone who looked like they might be ready to vacate a table. She smirked when she noticed Jason sitting with a Hufflepuff girl, her fingers tracing over his hand. He seemed almost disinterested. Their eyes met across the pub, and he winked. She rolled hers. He muttered a quick word to the Hufflepuff before leaving her sitting at the table, her eyes wide.
"What did you say to her?" Sara asked as he drew up to them.
"That she wasn't going to be able to sleep her way to the top in life and she shouldn't start with me," he replied coolly.
"Is that really what she wanted?" Sara quirked an eyebrow.
"She told me she'd do anything for some help with Astronomy. Which really means she'll shag me if I write a few papers for her."
"I don't think Astronomy would really be worth anything," Sara mused. "I think that would be more along the lines of Arithmancy or something."
"Are you asking for me to give you a little help with that tonight?" Jason retorted with a sly smirk.
"Don't push it," Sara warned. "You remember my boyfriend, George?"
"Pleasure," both replied coldly.
They each extended hands for a terse handshake. Sara could literally feel the testosterone they were giving off. She was relatively surprised they didn't start ruffling their feathers for a fight.
"Oh, look, a table!" Sara exclaimed, noticing a few Ravenclaw girls bustling away. "See you back at school, Jason!" she called as she pulled George behind her.
"What was that all about?" George asked as they sat down, just beating two Slytherins to the table.
"What was what all about?"
"All… That," he mad a wild gesture with his hands.
"That was just Jason being an idiot. He's always an idiot. I keep him in check though," she replied as she sipped at her drink.
"So he always asks you to sleep with him then?"
"He wasn't asking me to sleep with him," Sara corrected. "He was being stupid. He knows nothing will happen between us because I'm with you."
"Something tells me you're being too naïve about him."
"He's harmless!"
"He's a pig! And you're letting your guard down around him!"
"George, please. I don't want to do this. I've missed you."
"I… I've missed you too," he sighed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "It's hard not being with you everyday."
"I've talked to guys before. Ivan, and Cedric… What's so different about this one?"
"There's nothing different about them," George admitted. "They all… They all wanted you. Want you. I don't really know why you picked me, but—"
"George," she interrupted, leaning across the table and covering his hand with hers, "I picked you because I loved you. It wasn't a lottery. I didn't throw a bunch of names in a hat and pick yours at random. I love you, George. Do you really think Jason Samuels, who flirts with anything that's got a heartbeat and a chest, is going to change my mind?"
"I just… I missed you," he looked into her eyes.
"I missed you too. That's why I write you. No matter how busy I am."
"Have you been getting my letters?" he asked.
"Every single day," she smiled. "They make the morning so much less miserable."
"I'm glad."
"Enough about Jason. I want to hear about the shop."
They spent the rest of their time in the pub talking about new products, how to more efficiently do inventory, Sara's complex accounting (and how George was not doing as well as he'd hoped at learning her skills), and the increased sales. Sara loved how excited George got when he talked about the shop. In return, Sara spoke animatedly about her lessons, about being Head Girl, and about how busy she'd gotten. They didn't realize how long they'd been sitting there until Madame Rosmerta approached their table.
"I'd love to let you lot sit here and look all misty-eyed at each other all night, but students have to be headed back now," she said in passing.
"Is it really that late already?" George said as he looked at his watch. "Blimey."
"I don't want you to go," Sara pouted.
"I don't want to go," he replied. "But you'll have another trip here next month, and before you know it you'll be headed home for Christmas."
"Will you keep writing me?"
"Everyday, love," he promised.
They made their way outside, avoiding the already drunk customers, into the brisk October air.
"A month is going to go by so fast," she whispered, trying more to convince herself than George.
"Maybe we'll be able to do something a little more exciting," he said as he leaned over and captured her lips again.
Her fingers twined through his hair, clinging to him as tightly as she could. He pulled away, leaving a small peck on her nose. She smiled, trying to savor the feeling of having him so close.
"I love you," she whispered.
"I love you, too."
He pulled away from her grasp, and with one last longing look, disappeared with a crack. Sara sighed shakily, trying to ignore the tiny piece of her heart breaking at his sudden absence. Still, she knew this was for the best. She wanted more for herself than working in the shop for the rest of her life. She had dreams, ambitions. It was her future.
"It's for the best," she sighed once more.
The fastest way back to the school was through the alley behind the Three Broomsticks. Even if she was a couple of minutes late, she could just say she was making sure no students were hanging behind. She ducked behind the alley, trying to ignore just how ominously dark it was. Her pace quickened with every step. Something felt wrong. Eyes. Watching…
Then she saw it—a figure, stepping out from around the corner. It was a hooded figure, a man judging by his height. Sara was unprepared. She stuffed her hand into her coat pocket for her wand, but her fingers had barely closed around it when the man raised his own.
"Crucio!" he snarled.
Sara braced herself, but the pain never came. She opened her eyes and saw the figure writhing on the ground. His hood had fallen, revealing a face she didn't know. He was screaming, as if the attack had somehow been aimed at him instead. Sara was frozen. She couldn't move. So, she did the only thing she could think of. She screamed. A long, loud, piercing scream that echoed off the walls.
Distant footsteps, then a door just ahead of her opened to reveal the proprietor of The Hog's Head, the pub they had gathered at for their DA meeting last year.
"What are you shouting on about?" he barked.
Sara raised her finger and pointed to the man on the ground. He made no noise now, but his mouth was open in a silent scream and he continued to writhe, as if the pain was too much.
"What on earth?" he gasped.
"He… He attacked me," Sara murmured. "But, it didn't really work."
"I can see that," the man nodded. "Can you stay here with him just a moment? He's rather detained."
"I… I suppose," Sara replied hesitantly.
The man disappeared from the doorway but left it open, leaving Sara alone with her writhing assailant.
"What did you do?" she asked, knowing full well that he couldn't answer.
Sara nearly jumped out of her skin when another crack echoed through Hogsmeade. This time, however, it was Dumbledore. Though he looked tired, he was as gallant as ever.
"A damsel in distress. And what seems to have happened here?" he queried.
"He attacked me," Sara replied.
"And yet he is the one writhing in pain?" Dumbledore noted as he leaned down next to the stranger.
"He tried to… To use the Cruciatus Curse on me," she said tentatively. "I mean, I think he tried to. He said the words, but… It was as if his wand was facing the wrong way or something, because I think it got him instead."
"This man is a Death Eater," Dumbledore said as he rose to his full height.
Images flashed through her mind—of Barty Crouch leering at her and licking his lips hungrily, and of those men blasting curses off of her friends as if they were nothing, and of Rodolphus killing her mother and telling her she was next. They made her shiver audibly.
"What does he want with me though?" Sara asked.
"Perhaps we could speak more privately, my dear," Dumbledore suggested. "If you would."
He held his good arm out for her, and she took it gratefully. He also slid his foot over so it was in the crook of the Death Eater's arm. With a crack, they disappeared. Compressing through space. Sara could feel her head pressurizing. Finally, they reappeared in a place Sara had seen only once before: Dumbledore's office.
"My dear, I'm afraid I must dispose of this gentleman," Dumbledore gestured to the Death Eater with a nudge of his foot. "Might I ask you to wait here while I see to his arrest? I won't be long."
"Of course, sir."
"Right. Won't be long," he repeated before disappearing once more.
Sara took a seat on one of the armchairs before his desk. She looked around the curious room, still taken in by it. The first time she had been up here was the night Voldemort had returned. She and Harry had come here rather than the hospital wing to heal his arm. That night seemed so long ago. She had to bite back the tears for Cedric.
A noise at her shoulder brought her back to reality. She turned to see scarlet feathers—a great plume of them—right up against her. Connected to the exquisitely long neck was a strange yet beautiful face. Sara was entirely captivated by it.
"Aren't you the most breathtaking thing I've ever seen," she marveled.
The phoenix cooed—no, cooed was not a suitable word for it. It was as if the bird was singing in that short noise. But Sara could tell that it was happy. She raised her hand to it, and the bird leaned forward into her touch. Its feathers were soft as velvet. Sara was so enthralled with the bird that she didn't object when it hopped into her lap and nestled down. The minutes passed quickly, and soon Sara was startled by the crack indicating Dumbledore's return.
"I have personally escorted him to Azkaban," Dumbledore assured her as he took a seat behind his desk.
"Forgive me if my fears aren't totally appeased," Sara replied tartly. "I'm sorry, but Azkaban is becoming less and less of a deterrent lately."
"Wise beyond your years, and too right you are, my dear," he said gravely.
"Who was he?"
"His name was Octavian Casarack. A Death Eater."
"What did he want with me?"
Dumbledore merely stared at her for a moment before smiling weakly, his eyes tired behind his glasses.
"Fawkes seems to have taken quite a liking to you," he noted. "He will not get so close to just anyone."
"He's beautiful," she looked down at the phoenix, now dozing peacefully under her touch.
"My dear, you are special," Dumbledore mused, staring intently at her.
"No, I'm not," she scoffed.
"But you are."
Sara looked up, taken aback by the seriousness of his tone.
"But… why?" she asked.
"There is no rhyme or reason for it, you simply are. And it cannot be ignored any longer…" He paused, staring intently at her. She had never seen him look so serious. "Sara, you are in danger."
"What do I do?" she asked.
"Inside the walls of this school, you are safe. We have some time. There are things you must come to know about yourself. Things that will save your life."
"What are they?"
"That, I cannot tell you," he sighed. "For even I have not figured it all out. There are scattered pieces that I cannot myself decode. But I have provided you with what I believe to be adequate sources to begin."
"But sir—"
"These sources have not all come through me, but perhaps through gifts of some sort," he looked at her over his glasses.
Sara stared at him, entirely confused. Gifts? When had she received a gift that she hadn't really understood?
"Oh!" she exclaimed, realization dawning on her. "Christmas!"
Dumbledore simply smiled encouragingly.
"So then the—"
Sara was interrupted when the door burst open, Professor McGonagall stalking into the office.
"Headmaster, I— oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude," she said brusquely. "I suppose I should inform you both of this, though. It appears that Miss Bell has been cursed."
"Katie!" Sara exclaimed.
"She was found with a cursed necklace. She is at St. Mungo's now."
"Where did this necklace come from?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
"Its origin is… Eh-hem… Unknown," she replied tersely.
"Oh? Your hesitance says otherwise."
"Potter seems to believe that Mr. Malfoy is the culprit. However, he has no proof," McGonagall explained.
"Miss Roth, I believe that will be all for tonight."
Sara was startled, taken aback by the immediate shift in conversation.
"Of course, sir. Thank you for helping me tonight," she nodded.
Fawkes almost knowingly awoke and fluttered out of Sara's lap, landing deftly on his perch behind Dumbledore's desk. Professor McGonagall smiled weakly at Sara as she passed. She was about to close the door behind her when Dumbledore spoke.
"Don't forget the Christmas gifts, my dear."
"Yes sir, thank you," she replied, closing the heavy oak door.
Sara headed back to the Head corridor slowly, suddenly very worried about Katie. She'd been found with a cursed necklace? And what made Harry think that Draco was involved? He was sometimes one to jump to conclusions, but Sara knew something that most people did not: Draco was already a Death Eater. Narcissa had let it slip, and there was no forgetting it. If he was truly the one responsible for the necklace, then for whom was it meant? Probably not Katie, that's for sure. She made a mental note to ask McGonagall if or when she'd be able to visit Katie.
She returned to the Head corridor, giving a hasty hello to Jason before heading up to her room. Her mind was on a different track now. She flipped open the lid of her trunk and reached inside. When she felt her fingertips brush something warm, she knew that was it. She scooped the object up and pulled it from the trunk. The words A Genealogy of Healing were emblazoned in gold letters over the cover. While at Grimmauld Place, she had perused it, but had never really taken the time to read it. How had Dumbledore even known that she'd gotten it? And what did it have to do with this?
"Any chance you want to write an astronomy essay?" Jason asked her as she descended from her room.
"Not a chance in hell, actually," she replied, flopping down on one of the squishy armchairs.
"I'll provide you with sexual favors."
"Tempting, but I'll have to decline," she said as she flipped the book open. "By the way, thanks for flirting with me in front of my boyfriend, really top notch."
"Anytime, doll."
She spent the next two hours skimming the entire book. It was incredibly interesting. It detailed all of the different types of healing that had occurred throughout the ages, from ancient herbal recipes to spells to "modern" muggle methods. About halfway through the book, notes were scrawled across the margins, and some sections were underlined as well. She began to delve into the story of the woman whose healing abilities were strikingly similar to hers. This woman was born with healing powers that didn't require the use or wands of herbs. She simply used her energy.
"What are you doing?"
Sara looked up to find Jason behind her staring down at her book, his brow furrowed.
"Um, just reading," she replied.
"Reading what? Blank pages?" he asked.
"What are you talking about?"
"Those pages are blank, there's nothing written there," Jason said.
"Seriously?" Sara looked back down at the book.
To her, the two pages open were full of words, a few notes scrawled in the margins, and even an illustration of a wound.
"They're not blank," she said as she looked back up at him.
"Whatever, but they most certainly are," Jason grumbled. "I'm going up to bed. Feel free to come up if you get lonely."
"Goodnight, Jason," Sara ignored his comment, returning to staring curiously at the book.
Dumbledore had known that this book would give her some sort of valuable information. But he had also said that there were scattered pieces that he couldn't quite decode. The fact that Jason couldn't see the writing in the book didn't necessarily mean that Dumbledore couldn't either… Did it?
Sara closed the book and leaned back on the couch. This was too much. She closed her eyes and thought of George, now tucked safely back in his shop. He had no idea the danger she had been in. With some resolution, she decided it wasn't worth it to worry him. She was okay, and the man who had attacked her was long gone. Now that she was inside the walls of Hogwarts, she felt safer.
A loud crack caused Sara to jump to her feet, suddenly on high alert. But instead of a tall and brooding stranger, Kreacher had appeared.
"Hello," she smiled, trying to slow her heart rate back to normal.
"Good evening, young mistress," he said as he dipped into a low bow.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Kreacher is cleaning," he replied.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I'll get out of your way," she said, grabbing her book off the couch.
"Good night, young mistress," he bowed low once more.
"Good night, Kreacher."
Sara was halfway to the stairs when a light seemed to come on in her head.
"Kreacher, did you know my mother well?" she asked.
"Kreacher knew her when she visited Grimmauld Place with her sisters and her mother. Very kind to Kreacher."
"Did she… Did she possess any strange abilities?" Sara queried.
"Once," the elf said, as if racking his brain hard, "the disowned daughter fell down the stairs. She broke her arm. But young mistress's mother fixed it without magic. Just her hands."
Sara just stared at Kreacher. Her mother had possessed the same abilities—abilities that didn't require the use or wands of herbs, just her hands. Just like the woman in the healing book.
"Good night, Kreacher," she said again as she turned back toward the stairs.
She opened up the book once more as she dropped onto her bed, back to the page she had stopped on. Next to the story of the woman with healing powers was a name—Coralina Ward—and a date—1772.
Sara's head was so full of information that she was surprised it didn't burst. She closed the book and tossed it onto her bedside table. Hours earlier, the contents of that book had meant nothing to her. Now they meant everything. Who was Coralina Ward? And, more importantly…
Sara bolted upright in her bed. She had just closed her eyes when one last thought had occurred to her. A thought from years before… It had been a letter from her father. What had it said? The Christmas gifts! They had all been things that had belonged to her mother, and they had been passed to Sara from—
"Narcissa," Sara whispered.
Narcissa had given her the book. Dumbledore had known that she had received the book. Then Dumbledore must have told her to give it to Sara. And this meant that at some point Dumbledore had gone to Narcissa, and she must have heeded his words.
And she had gone to Sara to ask her to help Draco.
Had Narcissa realized the true danger of being in allegiance with Voldemort?
Sara felt sleep tugging at the far reaches of her consciousness. She dropped back down onto her pillow and let it overtake her, her dreams filled with questions.