Iub52 – Through The Looking Glass/I?
The streets were quiet. At least half of the shops in Diagon Alley were closed and boarded up. People hurried about their business, heads down, eyes up, scurrying amidst the few shoppers who dared to venture out. They seemed to be afraid to stop and talk with each other for fear of being overheard. Suspicious individuals lurked on the street corners making everyone nervous, and a heaviness hung in the air.
Having been cut off from my contacts, I searched many places for information to help in my quest: St. Mungo's, Diagon Alley, even occasionally venturing into the shadowy depths of Knockturn Alley under a good Disillusionment Charm; the Vagueness Charm just wasn't safe enough there. I couldn't locate any of the Order members that I knew and was concerned about going directly to the Ministry as I was no longer associated with the research team and had heard of the new security procedures for admittance. Presently standing outside Flourish and Blotts, I picked up the most recent copy of the Daily Prophet from a street vendor, flipped through the pages, scanning for news. It was a thin paper, not much of value being reported anymore. There were a few articles on Rita Skeeter's tell-all book about Albus. I snorted, Maybe I should purchase a copy. It may shed some light on the old man and his mission in life. There were one or two helpful hints on how to "protect yourself" from Inferi and Dementors. Like keeping "happy" thoughts with all that was going on was possible. There was a short list of the most recently deceased and missing, and a report on the increase of attacks on Muggle. I paused, Hmm, I should check on Emily. The one article that did catch my attention was hidden on the back of page four between an advertisement for Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions and a gossip column. It appeared that the Potter boy had vanished halfway through July, and no one knew where he was, or at least no one was saying.
Sighing as I tucked the newspaper into my shopping bag, I grumbled to myself that Albus had never given anyone full details of his activities, and now he expected me to help the boy…who had disappeared… thank you very much. I unconsciously rolled my eyes. Destiny, I scoffed as I strolled the narrow, cobble street, my light summer cloak rippling gently in the breeze as I slowly blended with the alley. Lead him to his destiny without detection and get my life back. Albus was always so cryptic. Why couldn't he ever just spell things out? I really needed to find a better way to discover what was going on.
It was late, and the crescent, waxing moon was high in the starry sky accentuating the power of incoming energy. I prayed to the Goddess Moon to help clear my sight and direct me to where I needed to be. Placing my hands flat on the battered, kitchen table, palms down, fingers spread, the black plate in front of me shone in the dull candlelight as I focused all of my attention on the images that began to form. The scrying dish had been my mother's, and it was something that she was very good at. It had been a way of communicating with my father when he was travelling, but was not a method of surveillance that I was comfortable with. To me, the idea of watching others without their knowledge simply out of curiosity was an invasion of privacy, but one, I had to confess, I had used this past year to keep a protective eye on Emily, Colin and the children. Now, it served a different purpose. I needed to know what was going on, and I had spent the better part of the past week trying to track people down.
Severus' link still existed, but he had put a strong ward around himself, and although I could feel what few emotions he permitted himself to have, I was unable to locate him or see what he was doing. However, a few days ago, I was certain that the dish reflected a vague image of him, but the figure quickly faded, as if he sensed the invasion.
The one time I checked on Remus, I wish I hadn't. Shaking my head at the memory, he really should have known better and definitely should have used a more effective shield. I couldn't tell where they were, but it looked very romantic with the glow of the multitude of candles. But, I really didn't need to see that side of his relationship with Tonks. Although, I had to admit, it appeared that his technique had improved. I chuckled roguishly at another budding memory. On a more serious side, he may be the only member that I could contact without putting anyone in danger. I'd have to try.
Heavy Protective Charms were in effect at the Weasley home. No surprise there. Nothing could penetrate. The benefit of being a Ministry official, I supposed. At least I was able to catch a glimpse of Arthur, on occasion, as he travelled to and from work. He was constantly on guard, and I could tell that he was on edge. Between the stresses at the Ministry and what his family had gone through this summer, I didn't have to wonder why. My opinion had been sought at St. Mungo's when Fenrir Greyback had assaulted his eldest son, Bill, during the attack at Hogwarts. The werewolf hadn't been in his transformed state at the time, and no one knew how or if the lycanthrope would manifest. I promised to do some research into the situation. I had met Bill once during the summer of my sabbatical. He was a nice man and was to be married this summer. Such a shame. I had also heard that one of Arthur's other boys had been seriously injured recently, as well, but to what extent, I didn't know. He hadn't been brought to the hospital.
Tapping into some of my former colleagues at the Ministry, there was a distinct sense of apprehension and trepidation. Tension was high, and many people, some in high-ranking positions, were acting oddly. There seemed to be a great deal of mistrust. Another reason for me to stay away if I could.
Trying to locate a few others from the Order, Alastor in particular, I found that all employed some sort of Shielding Charm that either blocked invasion or sensed if someone was trying to pry. I was repelled frequently. It was not easy, and progress was almost non-existent.
Tonight, however, my search was unusually rewarded with something interesting. In the glow of the black, curved plate, three, foggy faces slowly emerged, huddled together, appearing to speak secretly with each other. The image cleared slightly, and I recognized the trio from Albus' and Severus' descriptions: Harry Potter, with his best friends, Ron and Hermione. Hermione looked like she was giving instructions while the boys listened intently, Potter occasionally glancing over his shoulder to a closed door behind. But, as easily as the image faded in, it faded out. Somehow, I had been permitted to see that the trio was together and safe…for now. I just had to figure out what to do next.
Agitated from the evening's investigations and from the rain that pelted the small, stone house; I puttered the kitchen the next morning looking for something to gratify my grumbling stomach. Tearing a chunk from a loaf of cracked wheat bread, I cut a wedge of mozzarella cheese and began to nibble as I paced around the table. Finally plunking myself down and pulling the scrying dish in front of me again, I was careful not to drop crumbs onto the surface. Breathing deeply, trying to relax my mind, I drifted to my calm oasis, the only portion of life that seemed to be unaffected by the madness of this war: Emily's. Ever since I'd heard about the increased attacks on Muggles, it had become a habit to check on them fairly regularly. So far, I was relieved to find them safe. The glass fogged, and then became clear as Emily's living room came into focus. The twins could be seen in the background sitting at the kitchen table playing with some sort of building toy. One was kicking the other under the surface, much to the annoyance of his brother. Emily stood at the counter fixing what looked like a snack for the children, her back turned to the fight about to ensue. Adrianne was kneeling at the coffee table in front of the sofa in the living room colouring. She seemed fidgety and kept glancing around the room, eyeing her brother's devious display, and restlessly brushing her chestnut curls from her face. I was pleased that the gift that I had given Emily and Colin over a year ago had not been moved from the mantle. It presented an excellent view of the activities on the main floor. My attention suddenly diverted back to the boys as a full-blown battle broke out, and Emily had to haul them apart, banishing them to either end of the table and placing a makeshift divider of books between them as she scolded them harshly. I laughed as she turned her back to finish her task, and the boys peered around the edges of the divider, sticking their tongues out at each other. Returning my gaze to the foreground, I jumped at the set of hazel eyes staring back at me. I could see her lips move, but the glass was only for viewing. She was trying to communicate. Raising my finger to my lips to hush her, I was rewarded with a huge, toothless grin. She had lost her two front teeth. I laughed, and she silently laughed back, her hand covering her mouth to stifle the sound. A sudden movement behind her made her spin, and I ducked out of the edge of the frame just as Emily's face came into view, quizzically looking at the plate and running her fingers across the glass. She turned to speak with Adrianne, probably to tell her that she had been seeing things, a reflection perhaps, and then returned to the kitchen to check on the boys. Adrianne came into view for a second time. Her little face creased with disappointment …until she saw me again. A delighted grin filled her face as I held my fingers to my lips once more, then reached for the glass. Our fingers touched briefly, and I gave a small wave "good-bye". She returned the wave and backed away from the mantle, still watching as I broke the connection. At least, I knew that they were all right.
Seeing Adrianne again made me long for the stable connection of family life, and by the weekend, I couldn't take it any more. Using the scrying dish to make certain that they were home and not doing anything in particular, I Apparated to a secluded part of the playground down the street from their house. All of the houses in this area looked alike with only the minor personal, decorative touches making the difference. Climbing the plain cement steps to the front stoop, I touched Emily's dying rose bush and watched it come to life before glancing through the front window into the living room. Colin was sitting in his favourite chair reading the paper, and Emily was sitting on the sofa with Adrianne on the floor between her knees having her wild curls tamed. The boys were nowhere in sight. I rang the bell and smiled as Adrianne bolted out of her mother's grip and dashed to the front door, Emily close on her heels, the brush bouncing helplessly in Adrianne's thick hair.
"Auntie Dani!" she squealed with delight as she flung herself into my arms, squeezing tight. This six-year old wasn't as light as she used to be and nearly knocked me over.
"Daniella, this is a surprise. Is everything all right?" Emily ushered me into the foyer with a smile and shut the door.
I nodded briefly, still wrestling the little imp from around my neck. Setting the child back on her feet, I looked at my old friend sheepishly. "I hope you don't mind the intrusion. You don't have plans, do you?"
Emily waved me off and looped her arm into mine, pulling me into the comfort of their home. Colin glanced up from the paper and set it down on this lap. "Look what the cat dragged in," he said with a smile. "You okay. You look a bit pale."
"I've been working hard on a new project," I replied wearily taking a place on the sofa, Emily on one end and Adrianne at my side, Colin leaning forward in his seat looking concerned. Being with those who obviously cared for me had an instant effect on my strained emotional state. My jaw began to quiver, and Adrianne wrapped her arm around my waist.
"It's okay, Auntie Dani. Don't cry."
Well, that did it. The tears began as I drew a deep breath for control and hugged the child tightly. Addressing my friends, I slowly began, "I just needed to be someplace normal for a change." They smiled comfortingly. "I don't know if you remember the old man that was at our graduation, my old Headmaster?" Emily and Colin both nodded. "He was killed recently in the war." My breathing became laboured.
"I'm so sorry," Emily said kindly, reaching for my hand.
"It was quick, but still…" I shook my head.
"He was old when we met him years ago. I know that's not much consolation, but I'm sure he led a good, long life." Colin tried to be supportive.
"Yes, he did," I agreed weakly knowing that even for a wizard, being over one hundred was a good age.
"Is Uncle Stavros okay?" Adrianne quipped to the raised eyebrows of her parents. "You said there's a war. Is he fighting, too?"
"He's alive," I reassured.
"Stavros?" Emily questioned as Adrianne slapped her hand across her mouth, eyes wide with realization that she had let something slip.
"My husband," I stated flatly. "Adrianne met him over a year ago when she spent the night at my place."
"Your husband?" Colin questioned in shock. "And, when did this happen, and why didn't you tell us?" He looked toward Emily as if to ask if she knew.
"It was too dangerous," was the only response I could give.
The afternoon rolled along, and I was able to confide some of what was going on without giving any information that could be detrimental to their safety. The boys returned home from a friend's, and I helped Emily prepare dinner. I stayed late, enjoying the feeling of family and the connection with good friends. Adrianne insisted, as always, that I tuck her into bed, and she showed me her new little "trick". Clenching her hand tightly and scrunching her face in concentration, a small, white orb formed and shone through her fingers. As she expertly released it, it floated to the nightlight on the far wall opposite the bed illuminating it. Smiling proudly but concentrating again, she, this time, reached her hand directly above her as she lay on her back under the frilly, pink covers. A fluffy, brown teddy bear whizzed across the room from the chair in the corner into the waiting hands of the child. Her face beamed, and I brushed her hair from her eyes smiling proudly at her, my heart filling with love. She was a special little girl, and I'd have to keep a closer watch on her. If the wrong people discovered her talents, she would be in grave danger. Kissing her forehead and tucking the covers warmly around her body, I praised her but reminded her of the importance of keeping these powers a secret. She nodded as she sleepily rolled onto her side, pulling her teddy securely under her left arm.
Back at St. Mungo's the following week, I ran tests with a new variation of the Magpie Potion. The results appeared successful in the test subjects, and the Healers were willing to expand the scope a bit further. We wanted to extend the study to, once again, include the Longbottoms. I knew it was a long shot, but they tugged at my heart whenever I saw them with their son. I knew that Dark magic was irreversible but had an idea that may decrease some of the damage.
Later that night, sitting in the dark, leather chair behind the large, oak desk in the study, the original and modified Magpie research spread across the surface, I studied list after list of ingredients, looking for the one that nagged at the edge of my subconscious. The theory was simple, and one that had Belby's name reeling over and over in my mind. In Belby's original lycanthrope research, he had chosen the wrong species of plant, one that didn't have the proper dose of a critical ingredient. Through further investigation, we, I, had chosen another species from the same family, and the potion had been successful. I had the same instinct here. Somewhere amongst the herbs and botanicals an adjustment could be made…but where? Which one?
Pinky served a light dinner while I worked, and the lamps were lit as the darkness engulfed the study. My hand cramped as idea after idea was scribbled out. Wiggling my fingers for relief, I kept writing, the analysis of the research consuming me. By the time the white and tangerine streaks of dawn began to stretch over the horizon, the list of possible variations had been narrowed to three. Feeling very satisfied with the night's work, I stumbled down the hall to the bedroom, bouncing off the doorframe, and sinking into the soft covers, quickly falling asleep, not noticing Pinky entering the room and covering me with the spare quilt.
Summer was passing rapidly, and the new theory was developing well. Two of the three plants that were needed for assessment were readily available from known growers here in England, but the third could only be located in Europe, and I couldn't take the risk of leaving the country at the moment. My forays into the scrying dish gave some insight to what people were doing, but the information was limited, and the sense of foreboding was growing. The Potter boy's image did not rise again, and those I needed to locate the most had heavy, impenetrable shields up, even Remus. It wasn't until the end of August when I discovered why. The Wizard world had received another blow to its already fragile existence. The odd behaviour that had been developing at the Ministry finally manifested. The British Ministry of Magic was now obviously under the influence of the Dark Lord; the Minister, having secluded himself in his office for numerous days, had finally been…eliminated. No one knew just how many Ministry officials were acting on their own accord and who was under the Imperious Curse, and there was no way that I was going to venture into that tremulous atmosphere to risk finding out.
Another snippet of information that I overheard in the hospital Tea Room one afternoon was that Severus had been promoted to Headmaster of Hogwarts in Albus' place. I understood that his life in Voldemort's service would bury him in his spells and charms, but what a cruel fate to replace the man who had forced your hand into such a tempestuous situation. No wonder his personal ward was so strong. Occlumency was his lifeline; something even I couldn't penetrate.
As the fall equinox approached, and the summer winds turned cool, while Pinky lit the first fire of the season and Stark perched on the top of the bookcase, head tucked under his wing, I sat with the scrying dish on my lap in the comfort of the sitting room, wrapped in one of Severus' old sweaters. Breathing deeply and inhaling the lingering scent of the man I loved, I relaxed and focused on the dark glow of the plate. For the longest time, there was nothing but fog, but as my eyes started to drift closed in the heat and comfort of the sweater and room, a deep, angry voice penetrated my thoughts, amplified by the dish.
"No, I will not allow it."
