i – Aoife
June 21st1975
Little fingers scribbled with crayons across a blank bit of old yellowing parchment. Lively hums followed the rhythm of the doodle lines as the image of a serpent-y purple and turquoise dragon emerged on the paper. One hand came up to play with the small gold locket hanging from the neck of the owner of the tiny fingers. The charm eventually fidgeting its way to press against lips as the hums and doodles continued.
This was the best dragon she's ever drawn! Hopefully Poppop won't be upset she had sketched all over the back of one of his parchments. He had dozens and dozens after all!
"Quick, fe! Hide!" The sudden presence of her grandfather nearly knocked her off the stool she was kneeling on beside the homemade desk. The old bomb shelter, left over from The Blitz, was dimly lit by old industrial style wall sconces that gave the dank brick walls an eerie yellow glow. The old man swiftly began to roll the parchments on the desk and toss them into a large military ruck. He walked to a deep metal cupboard against the wall and placed the ruck, his treasure chest, or at least that was what Aoife called it, and a ring of brass skeleton keys he always kept on his belt loop inside underneath a false floor. He reached his arms out for Aoife, who ran to him. He wrapped the 7 year old in a great bear hug, breathing in the scent of her strawberry shampoo still lingering in her dusty blonde hair. Swiftly, he grabbed her up and placed her in the cupboard on top of the false floor.
"Sunshine, I need you to be brave. Stay in here and be very, very quiet. No matter what you hear, do not come out of the locker." Pop's voice was hushed but desperate and Aoife became very frightened.
"The bad guys are coming?" she whispered as she kneeled into a shadowy corner. "Do you think they know about your treasure chest?"
"They may know about my secret chest, but the secret of my true treasure, I will take to my grave." He held her little face in his hands, drinking in the sight of her. "Let no one see or hear you, Dearheart. No matter what." And with that, pop shut the cabinet door leaving Aoife in darkness.
At first, nothing could be heard but her own heartbeat in her ears. A sudden blast and then yelling and thrashing about. You could hear pop yowling and other voices making demands, but she couldn't concentrate on what they were saying. She clamped her hands down tightly over her mouth in a desperate attempt to stifle her crying. Aoife had promised Pop she would stay out of sight. She needed to guard his treasure, which was laying right under her bottom. She could still hear zipping and crashing and popping all around the room mixed in with angry voices. A stray red lightening bolt like wave hit the side of the metal cabinet making a small hole and flooded her corner in sickly yellow light from the outside and nearly hitting her face straight on. She shouldn't look. She shouldn't see what was happening with her Pop. He wouldn't want her to see him all beat up and his workshop in shambles; Everything they were working on ruined. Pop had said they were really, really close to a major discovery too. The answer to his big puzzle, he said.
The room became quiet and all that could be heard, aside from her grandfather's pained breathing, were soft, padding footfalls making their way down the rickety wooden steps to the bare cement floor of the shelter. Aofie gathered all of her courage to silently slide to the tiny peep hole left by the magic lightening bolt. The sight before her left her trembling, and she had to cover her mouth again to keep in her cries. She had expected Pop to be battered and bruised but couldn't see a single scratch on him. He was sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, slumped over and breathing hard. No rope nor binding could be seen around him. Why didn't he just get up and run? 4 black clad figures surrounding him in a semicircle, their faces obscured by hoods and masks. Each one had a stick in one hand pointed at him.
"Ah, Padraig Wylde. Still sticking your stinking muggle nose where it aut not be." A silky voice cut through the quiet and reverberated off the brick walls. Aoife saw a ghostly pale man in black silken robes airily approach Pop. He reached down to grab the others' chin, forcing the older man on the chair to look him in his dark black eyes. They flashed red for an instant, then back to black. "I've come for the relics and the location of the causeway. Tell me what I need to know… and I just may spare your family inside the house." He hissed, almost snake like.
"Knoxwud." She heard pop whisper. He had his eyes tightly shut, so as not to meet the others' gaze.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I'll never tell you a thing." Padraig breathed. "Never."
"Have it your way." Pale fingers left Padraig's chin as the pale man stood. "Cruico!" He spat. Aoife watched helpless as her Pop thrashed around on the chair as if he were being electrocuted, his cries making her squint her eyes and bite the inside of her cheeks to keep quiet. She had to do something, but she had promised Pop to stay in the cupboard. No matter what.
The screaming stopped and pop stopped convulsing. "Now, let's try that again." Pale fingers gripped Padraig's chin once more. "Tell me where the causeway begins."
"No!"
"Crucio." The man held on to Padgraig this time, forcing him to keep eye contact.
"Arran!" He gritted out passed his convulsions. "King's Caves, on Arran!" he bellowed.
"I'll need assurance, dear Padraig."
"No. Please." The old man whimpered.
"Legilimence!" Pop stopped moving at once and never broke his stare. When the spell was finally broken, the pale man let out a maniacal laugh. "Excellent. Foolish muggle, you even left the keystone in place. Soon the stave will be returned to a true Heir of Slytherin, and I will take my rightful place."
"Only the worthy are able to step foot on the Isle." Padraig painfully breathed. "You are not of blood or of valor. You are nothing except a usurper and you will meet your end at the hands of the very people you scorn. Merlin's message…"
"Merlin was a fool! A great sorcerer, but a fool! The hierarchy will be restored! Crucio!" Padraig was silenced by painful thrashing once again. He continued to twitch once the hex released. A twisted smile appeared on the pale man's face.
"hnmm, Malfoy!"
"Yes, my lord?" One of the masked men from the semicircle came forward.
"Abraxas, I believe it is time for Lucius to take his mark and his place in the circle. Don't you agree? Bring him to me."
'Malfoy' or whoever, left up the steps and returned with a smaller, scrawny version of himself, complete with black hood and a plain mask.
"Ah! Lucius, child. The time has come. Are you willing to stand by my side? The winning side?" The pale man wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders and led him to stand in front of Padraig.
"Yes, My Lord." The boy's voice trembled only slightly.
"A final task set for you then." The pale man stood behind the boy with his hands on his shoulders. He was close enough to whisper softly in his ear. "Kill the muggle scum."
Again, the boy trembled for only a moment, his stick pointed awkwardly at Padraig's chest.
"Knoxwud, Tuftwud. Deliver her." The old man closed his eyes and let out a large sigh.
"Avada Kedarva."
The room filled with a sickly green glow. When it faded, Padraig was still and slumped on the chair.
Great silent tears streaked down Aoife's face, and she bit her fingers to keep from calling out.
"My Lord, the Ministry! I think the Aurors are here!"
"We've got what we need from here. Come! We will finish your rites at the manor. Then we begin our journey to the causeway and to Glory! Rookwood, Cast the Mark!"
"Morsmordre!" A spindly man pointed his stick skywards up the stairs. Then the group of figures vanished in big plumes of grey and black smoke. The air in the room sizzled and then was quiet.
Aoife was preparing herself to depart the locker when she heard scratching in the corner by where the false floor started. Through the dark popped a teeny tiny acorn like lantern held up by a teeny tiny man. The gnome Pop had found hurt last week and kept in the aquarium. They were going to take him out to the woods to return home tomorrow. She grabbed him up and shushed his squeaky protests.
Someone was coming down the stairs again. Maybe they came back realizing the whole family wasn't in the farmhouse. She sat close to her peep hole, all the while hugging the belligerent gnome close to her like a teddy bear.
The black clad men did not return and instead she saw Three new figures. One, a dark skinned gentleman with soft eyes and a stony face. Another with fiery red hair. The last, an elderly looking man, in a deep red traveling robe. He had crystal blue eyes behind halfmoon glasses, and a distinguished stark white beard tied with baubles. All three brandished pointy sticks like the bad men had.
Wands. Those are wands, Aoife thought, and they are wizards.
"Albus, he's gone."
"We were too late. I had hoped to make it in time to spare him." The old man sighed. His expression pained. "Damn it." He grumbled. "The family in the house, they are all alive?"
"The Obliviators are with them now." The red head explained. "Albus, I won't be able to explain this away to the department head. They will launch an investigation. Padraig Wylde has been in their sights for magic tampering and violation of the Secrecy Act for decades. We've never been able to nail him down for anything solid, but now he ends up a victim of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Just because he was muggle?"
"Arthur, I believe this was a calculated act. The Dark Lord was looking for something. I know Wylde has found himself under the wrath of the Ministry several times. I've even had the pleasures of interrogating him myself on their behalf. He was a good man, and good at keeping secrets. He even found a way to resist Legilimency with out the use of Occlumency. He was a true and fierce muggle and proof that everything Tom Riddle is killing in the name of is false. I don't know what the Death Eaters were looking for, but I do hope Padraig was able to keep his secrets." The bearded wizard moved towards Padraig's body and gently closed the man's lifeless eyes. "We'll place the body in the house. His family should be given the opportunity to mourn."
"Of course, Albus." The dark skinned wizard agreed.
"I must leave before the rest of the Auror detail appears. It's best the Ministry does not know of any order involvement here. Kingsley, will you be alright handling the clean up?"
"I've already started the paperwork."
"And Arthur, please let me know of any artifacts you may find. Then get home to Molly and those boys. I hear we are to expect another Weasley at the castle in 12 years or so. Congratulations." He turned to leave the others to their work but stopped when he felt a crunch under his shoe. He reached down to pick up and examine a crushed purple crayon. Then he noticed a few more scattered on the floor near an overturned table. He spotted a bit of parchment with a blue and purple dragon matching the crayon colors. A name childishly scrawled underneath in ununiform letters.
"Was there a little girl in the farmhouse, Kingsley?"
"No. A man, a woman and a young boy. No sign of another child. Why, Albus?"
"There's another child somewhere." He handed the drawing to the red haired man. "We should find her."
Foot steps up the stairs sounded again.
Aoife felt a sharp pain on her index finger as the nasty little gnome bit her in an attempt for freedom.
"Ouch!"
She gave herself away as two of the three men stood before the now opened metal cupboard door. They had their wands pointed at the ready.
The old man relaxed slightly. "Are you Aoife, my dear?" He asked calmy, while staring down at the strange little sight. A child no older than eight, with a tear streaked face and a mess of sandy hair, was huddled in the corner of the locker. She had on a pair of oversized yellow duck boots. A bloody burn from a stray spell grazed across her right cheek. In her hands, a wildly thrashing gnome squeaking obscenities in his native tongue. She seemed stunned at first, just staring up with wide gray eyes.
Then she abruptly stood and threw the poor little gnome towards he and Arthur with a grunt. The later unfortunately taking a bop to the face and ensuing a bit of a scuffle with the gruff little creature as it gripped fistfuls of his red hair! In the mele, Aoife scrambled away to escape. She ran in between the two distracted men, stomping on the bearded wizard's foot in the process.
"Yoww!" He hopped a bit.
"I'm not suppose to talk to strangers!" She ran for the steps. If she could just make it to the woods…
All at once she couldn't move and her feet felt like they had left the ground. She spun around in the air to face the offenders.
"Lemme down! I'll scream and the people outside will hear me! You said you didn't want them to know you were here!"
"My you are a clever little one, Ms. Wylde." He placed her feet back down on the floor, but she still couldn't move her legs. The red haired man had finally pulled the gnome from his face. Aoife watched it scurry into his leather satchel unnoticed by the others. She hoped he would take him home and it would infest his garden. A pox on your house, you evil wizard.
"My name is Albus Dumbledore. Now we are no longer strangers." The old man gave a warm smile and his blue eyes seemed to twinkle as he spoke. However, when the little girl only bitterly scowled back, the smile faltered. "I am sorry you had to witness what happened to your grandfather." Her scowl deepened and tears could be seen glistening in her eyes, but she did not crumble. Tough little cookie. "Those men are called Death Eaters and their leader is very dangerous."
"Really? I thought they came for a tea party."
Dumbledore's smile returned. "I need to know, Aoife, if you overheard what they were looking for? Why they came here in the first place."
"Why should I tell you? How do I know you aren't a bad guy?"
"Because I want to stop the bad guys from hurting anymore people."
"Just because you aren't working with THEM doesn't mean you are a good guy. Pop always said "Only the worthy could find the isle… OOPS! Bollocks." Her face was as red as an apple as she fought to keep her tears at bey. It was everything she could do not to give into the shock of this afternoon.
"So, Padraig was still searching for Avalon. After all these years? It's a myth. Even Wizardom knows the isle is a myth." Arthur came to stand beside Dumbledore. "No one has ever been able to find hide nor hair of…"
"Or maybe you haven't been looking in the right place." She looked defiantly at Arthur. "That's what the bad man was after. Pop-pop started looking for the Causeway last week in a new place. He…" She gulped back a sob. "He used to take me on adventures in the summer to look for clues. It was our secret project." Her hand gripped her gold locket. "They used some sort of painful spell on him. He told them the Causeway started at King's Caves on Arran. Then the Bad Man's eyes turned red, he laughed then had one of the others kill pop-pop with green lightening. But he lied! Pop lied and the Death Eaters believed him 'cause they left, then you came. Pop lied 'cause nothing is in the King's Cave! We crossed that off!
"You-Know-Who is looking for the Stave." Dumbledore sighed, looking around the destroyed study. He could see various bookcases smashed and broken. Parchments that had been tacked to the cork board walls ripped away. Most likely taken by the Death Eaters. Maps and clues Voldemort thought would help him reach another ancient artifact to increase his power. If he found the gateway and was able to make it over the causeway and on to the isle, it would be nearly impossible to stop him.
"It's a myth, Albus. A bedtime story for kids. Even the portrait of Merlin in Hogwarts believes Avalon is a fairytale."
"Arthur, you of all people should know that some fairytales are more then what they seem. Your namesake is the Pendragon himself, is he not? Hm, Ms. Wylde, you understand that we can not just leave you hear with everything you have seen, correct? Muggles are not supposed to know about magic." Dumbledore kneeled so he could be eye level with the girl, his face sympathetic. "Arthur, I need to Obliviate the child."
"Obliviate." She whispered, resigned.
He was an evil wizard after all, and this was the end.
"Will it hurt?"
Arthur looked aghast and he turned even paler if that was possible.
"No, dear child. Not even a little." Dumbledore stated kindly, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. He rose and pointed his wand.
Aoife shut her eyes, chin out in defiance once again, bravely facing whatever was to come. Waiting for a green glow.
"Obliviate."