Andromeda slams the door on her way out and Harry is left on the corridor gaping. Standing there and staring. Wondering and worrying.
Terrified.
Utterly terrified that the slamming of the black heavy door might just be the sound of their carefully constructed protections collapsing. The castle made of cards finally swept away by the displacement of the air around him. The web of lies destroyed by the flight-made-fury of the stars.
Ginny is there, just behind him. He does not have to turn around to know, her presence is something palpable to his mind, her scent in the air captured by his very pores. Still, he is startled when her hand meets his shoulder.
His ears register her voice, his brain not so much.
His brain instead orders his voice to start pouring all of his thoughts. Thoughts that now tumble over his teeth and off his lips, a never ending stream that leaves the bitter taste of fear in the back of his throat.
"Ginny, what have I done? Ginny, I lied to her. Andromeda knows the truth about Delphini and I spent all this time trying to convince her not to say anything, and I think I did it, but I lied to her, Ginny. I lied. She will only keep quiet because of that lie, Ginny, how did I do this? How do I stop it?"
Ginny halts the cascading words by putting her fingers over his lips. Just two fingers of her right hand, as her left hand slides over his shoulder and his neck, climbing up to cradle his cheek. His head leans in, instinctively. If Ginny, who had looked so horrified that night when he had told her and Ron the truth about Delphini, still deems him worthy of her touch then surely things can't be that bad.
But they are. Of course they are. Andromeda said she wouldn't tell the truth about Delphini, but how will he keep Teddy from learning of it once his grandmother stops him from seeing her? How will he keep Teddy from turning on them in anger? How will he keep Delphini from turning on them, too? They'll need answers, the both of them, and Merlin's beard his scar almost hurts at the thought of explaining it all to Teddy. At the thought of letting Delphini turn into some sort of pariah.
When he touches his scar, a simple habit now, an unconscious gesture when in worry, Ginny pulls his hand away to hold it between hers. Apparently, he talked while she took him by the other hand to their sitting room, while she sat him down on the sofa and made herself comfortable by his side. His brain did not register his own words, let alone her actions.
"What do you mean, Harry? How did you lie to her?"
"I told Mrs. Tonks that Delphini does not know who her Father is."
Ginny's hands leave his, jolting away only to come back immediately to his face, holding his face close to hers. Her blue eyes have grown wide, he notices, the blue becoming acute somehow, frantic even.
"She knows? Harry, are you sure? Absolutely sure?"
And he has no other way around it but to explain it all to Ginny, in detail. Yes, he is sure she knows since her visit to Azkaban. Yes, he is sure for he felt her determination in getting to the bottom of it, when she searched his mind. Yes, he is absolutely certain that she knows.
Not only does she know about her Father, but she has used the Resurrection Stone to meet him. He suspects it did not go how she expected. He saw the shadow in her haunted eyes that day, a familiar ghost that lived in his eyes for the better part of eleven years.
"She knows, Ginny, I am sure of it. She won't talk of it, there is no interest in doing so. Of that, she is acutely aware. But she will be alone, Ginny. Should the truth be known, she will be alone. The Malfoys can't talk to her about Tom Riddle, or Lord Voldemort, or whatever they may call him. They won't be able to help her. And she won't stay with them if she feels like she's endangering them. She worries, Ginny, she cares, they raised her to be someone entirely different to her parents and that will be her undoing. Don't you see? She will be all alone if I don't stand with her."
Ginny doesn't even try to change his mind. She knows him too well to even dream of him doing something other than protecting her, from whatever the world decides to throw at her, even her own blood.
But she will not let him become a martyr once more. She will not let him go alone and leave her behind like he did over a decade ago.
"It's useless, Harry, you can't. You can't and you won't and I will stay by your side, no matter what you decide. No matter what happens. You're not facing Andromeda, or the Ministry or whoever else comes for Delphini on your own."
"But Ginny-"
"Hush now, Harry," she tells him with a playful little smirk hidden in the corner of her mouth, "there is no need for that. You don't have to explain. I know. Somehow, you look at her and see yourself. She never lived in a cupboard, she never went hungry, and Merlin knows she never went unloved for a single day of her life, but you look at her and see yourself. I only ask that you do not sacrifice yourself. You walked to your death once, and that is the one thing I will keep you from doing this time."
X
Malfoy Manor, July 3rd 2013
Delphini has been counting the days. Not just since she came home, but ever since the day a stranger grabbed her by the wrist and told her, with a deranged look in her eyes, that she had a role to fulfil.
Three days is not so bad.
No one has come barging into her house for these past three days, so she figures Teddy's grandmother hasn't acted on what she now knows. From what she knows about Andromeda Tonks, she may well decide to keep the secret to herself. She hopes so, even if the odds are slight.
She has given herself time to enjoy being around her family again. Andromeda knowing her true parentage may put an end to life as she knows it, so she will enjoy them, enjoy every minute with them. She plays Quidditch with Scorpius for entire afternoons, until they are both exhausted and craving showers. But mostly, she plays until Scorpius is tired enough to barely make it through dinner awake, so that he sleeps through the night, no dreams, no nightmares, no worrying about Astoria.
Astoria isn't exactly worst. She has simply ceased to improve. She can make it up a flight of stairs, but can never quite catch her breath afterwards. She struggles if she laughs for a while, but she gets around the house. Scorpius still worries though, and Delphini knows. He comes into her rooms in the morning to cuddle with her, unafraid of the snake he almost always finds curled around her shoulders or on her lap and she soothes him. She whispers in his ear simple little nonsense phrases of endearment, and he smiles. She tells him he story of how she made a canopy bed fly around Hogwarts, and he laughs.
But she needs to soothe her own mind today, so she makes her way downstairs, bare feet taking turns showing and disappearing under the hem of her long skirt, curls bouncing behind her, held off of her face by engraved silver side combs she got for getting Outstandings in all her OWLs. She left Guivre sunbathing on the window ledge, but Vicious follows her steps silently. Blackie, she figures, must be out hunting.
It's still early, but the day promises to be warm, so she knows exactly where to find her family. They will be enjoying sunlight before it becomes too hot, too oppressive to endure. She leans against the doorjamb of the sunroom, smiling at the sight before her. No matter what the wraiths of her parents may say, she belongs here, she is theirs and they are hers.
Draco is the first to notice her, smirking at the sight of her feet on the marble floor as he peeks over the newspaper. Uncle Lucius speaks up first though.
"I believe we provide you with shoes. Unless you've somehow left them all at Hogwarts?"
She laughs, bright and joyful, unburdened. Yes, she is home. This is family. This is right. And she is about to disrupt the peace once more.
"Where is Scorpius?" she asks, walking towards them.
"Bothering the peacocks, I hope," Draco answers, earning himself a glare from Uncle Lucius, "or up to some other shenanigan, like nine year old boys are supposed to be. Why do you ask?" His tone drops. He knows something is up.
"I need to talk to you. I suppose you've talked about what happened at the platform?"
She uses the hesitation they all display to set herself down on a large embroidered pillow on the floor, next to Aunt Narcissa's legs. Vicious promptly arranges himself in the bend of her knees, big blue eyes drawing shut when she combs his soft fur. Her hair caresses her bare arms, moving with the breeze.
"I was starting to wonder when you'd bring it up, really," Aunt Narcissa says, caressing her hair, "I wasn't there, but I know that Euphemia Rowle came up to you and told you about a prophecy..." True to her nature, their nature really, she lets her complete the sentence. One never gives up information unnecessarily.
"She did. But I don't want you to talk to me about it," she adds before anyone can say anything, "I'm afraid it will trigger the Vow, somehow. I just need to know where I can find her. She seemed eager enough to tell me about it right there."
"Delphini, the Vow has nothing to do with the prophecy. Potter and Granger know nothing of it, so they couldn't include it," Draco smiles, but it does not reach his eyes, "however, this will be a very short conversation. There was a prophecy about you, yes, but prophecies have a long history of going unfulfilled, so you need not worry. Your future is not written inside some crystal ball."
"Draco, I have to know! If I can't have this conversation with you, I'll have it with Madam Rowle. I'm done not knowing things. Will you tell me where to find her?"
She is furious. Utterly enraged. After everything that happened that night in the Chamber, she can't simply brush the prophecy off. There is clearly some sort of mission she is supposed to accomplish, some end of her Father that she is supposed to help reach.
She needs to know what the prophecy says so that she can avoid fulfilling it.
She talked to her dead parents and she cannot tell her family about it without getting them all killed. She cannot risk moving in the direction her Mother wished her to, the one her Father so clearly desired, for that will surely get them all killed. She needs to know which path to avoid, where not to go, which stones are best left unturned.
"Never pity the losing, Delphini. There is a reason they lost." Her Mother's words have haunted since that night.
They lost for a reason. Lord Voldemort fell a second time for a reason, she thinks, as she looks at the palms of her hands, where the wounds have healed but the pain remains.
Euphemia Rowle came to her offering knowledge. Her Mother told her, clearly, that she is the one holding the information Delphini needs to bring them back. If she gets to the prophecy, she can make sure she will never fulfil it. Or so she hopes.
"Delphini, we cannot tell you where to find her," Uncle Lucius' eyes do not allow for the smallest argument, "because we do not know. We hadn't heard of her since the war ended, and she never tried to reach us. None of us know why she decided to go to you that day, and she never came to us. We do not know."
"But we can help you look," Aunt Narcissa cuts in, earning herself several bewildered stares.
"Narcissa, we have talked about this. Euphemia Rowle is dangerous to us and probably very dangerous to Delphini-"
"No, Lucius. I'm sorry, I know this isn't what you wanted, but we both know this matter will not be brushed off our lives. And I won't have my child be haunted by what a crystal ball may or may not say!"
Delphini is speechless at that. "My child" Aunt Narcissa said. Not Delphini, not my niece. My child.
Also, she has never seen her openly disagree with Uncle Lucius. They have always been one united front in all matters concerning her.
"Just tell me one thing, little bird," she is talking to her again, taking her cheeks in her hands, and turning her face up, carefully, towards her, "tell me that you understand that words from a crystal ball are wind. Tell me that you understand your fate is not set in stone, and I'll help you find Euphemia." Her grey eyes are shiny with tears she won't shed.
Delphini needs a moment to compose herself, to make sure her voice still works.
"I do, Aunt Cissa. I know prophecies don't always come true. I know my fate isn't set in stone." She can hardly keep her eyes from turning grey, but then Aunt Narcissa has just referred to her as "my child, so she lets them. And she lets her tears fall.
Aunt Narcissa lowers her face to hers, kissing her forehead before hugging her close, tears staining her dress. And Delphini feels immensely safe in that embrace.
This is her home, this is her family, and she belongs here. Her future will not be determined by a crystal ball. Her actions will not be dictated by dark shadows of who her parents used to be.
But she crosses eyes with Astoria for a second, who silently sits by the side of Draco, head on his shoulder. In the glance they share, they see each other's thoughts mirrored. Some things are set in stone, no matter what you do, no matter how much you wish they weren't true.
There's a curse upon Astoria. Delphini fears there may be another upon her.
X
Narcissa watches Delphini's eyes turn grey and is assured in her decision. She is just as relentless as her parents were in their search for answers, but she is nothing like them in her ends.
She is doing this for closure. In the same way she craves knowledge because it allows her control. Delphini does not crave power over others, only control over herself and her circumstance.
She merely wants to complete the puzzle, to obtain the whole picture of her origin.
Narcissa has watched over her niece during the three days she has been home, careful not to be noticed. If Delphini wished it, she could be private to every thought in every mind in this house, but Narcissa knows it is not so. There would be no escaping an ever vigilant Legilimens, she knows.
She remembers.
Slowly, she lets a weird sort of happiness crawl up her chest, from the fear that initially lived in her belly, and take up residence around her heart. It's a quaint little thing, that happiness, a foreign contentment that she welcomes in her life. She feels safe, and she has not felt safe in a long time.
Ridiculous as it may be, Delphini finally knowing the truth about her Father has brought her peace. Delphini knowing that her darkness has its roots in the most powerful Dark Lord to have ever risen soothes her mind, preposterous as it may be. Delphini knowing that the Lestrange at the end of her name is nothing but a scam for the world to buy into has removed the sheen of worry from her eyes, and now she sees the world anew.
More than just the happiness and safety it brings, Narcissa is grateful that her home has not been destroyed. For even if they cannot speak of Lord Voldemort, his name no longer feels like a sword about to fall upon her head. Her home is not haunted by his shadow anymore.
She remembers what her house used to feel like. What if felt like to always be on guard in her own home, eyeing the ill-chained beasts that her former master had released. Seeing Lucius be munched down the packing order. Draco had never climbed the ranks to start with, but he was equally destroyed. She remembers how she was forever fearful for her husband and child in those days.
She remembers holding Delphini in her arms in the safety of her nursery, a happy little thing despite all that surrounded her. She remembers wondering about what the happy little thing would turn out to be. Wondering if she would become the feral right-hand of power her parents expected her to be.
But Delphini knows now and her house feels nothing like what it used to when her Father ruled here. She rules here now and there is no fear in Narcissa's mind because of it. There is no ill-chained creature in her home. Just a happy creature that isn't so little anymore.
X
Malfoy Manor, July 17th 2013
Having to pace her time isn't really something Delphini enjoys, but she has been trying. As promised, Aunt Narcissa has made subtle questions here and there, at the gatherings they attend. It took too long, way too long, because they couldn't risk rising suspicion, but they have what they need now.
They've established that Madam Rowle lives alone in her state, mostly isolated from wizarding society. Thorfinn Rowle was little over a soldier, even if he made for a dangerous adversary in duel. Euphemia's work as a Healer had been welcomed by the cause, but St. Mungo's did not hold the door open for her. Apparently, she lives of whatever was left after the Ministry was done confiscating objects, obtaining compensations and locking wizards and witches at Azkaban. Thorfinn is there for the remainder of his life, just like Rodolphus.
The thought had crossed her mind, that first night after meeting her parents in the Chamber, to write to Rodolphus. But he was bound to the lie that shrouds her true nature far before any Unbreakable Vows were made.
She was planning to go to Rowle House today, but Auror Potter happens to be downstairs, making his summer visit. There would be nothing unusual about it, except Auror Weasley is not with him and he's three days early. She can feel the minds of everyone in the Manor when she focuses, and Auror Weasley is simply not downstairs. She looks in the mirror one last time, adjusting the ribbon on her side ponytail, before dashing to the sitting room.
"Auror Potter," she greets, nodding towards him, "I thought Auror Weasley would be coming with you, on the 20th." She keeps a smile on her lips, but she does not like where this seems to be going.
"Delphie… that was unnecessary. Though you are missing your sidekick, Potter," Draco jumps in the conversation from the far corner, pouring cold drinks for the three of them, "where is Ron?" He approaches Harry, extending him a glass, while Delphini makes sure to levitate hers from the teacart.
"Could you please not do that? It would be easier if I didn't have to lie in my report, Delphini."
Harry takes a seat across her, on an armchair, smiling without really meaning to. Draco is observing them keenly, trying to figure out what sort of unspoken quarrel they are trying to settle.
"Sorry, it's force of habit," she answers, playing the innocent, "what about Auror Weasley, then, is he unwell?"
"Oh, no. Ron's fine. He has decided to cease working as an Auror. He wants to help George with the shop. And he'll have more time for the kids, so that Hermione can really focus on her career now."
"Ah, Granger is moving up, I've heard! Not sure about letting Weasel into the world of business…" Draco winks, but Delphini rolls her eyes. Here comes the usual banter.
"Yeah, I guess she is. She is Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, now."
"Not to mention Shacklebolt has been grooming her to be the next Ministry of Magic."
"Yeah, that he is. Anyway, Ron had had enough with this, it's best for the both of them."
Delphini senses that a lot has been left unsaid concerning the matter, not to mention Potter isn't interested in debating it in the least.
"Potter," Draco calls, clearly fed up with trying to make conversation, "what is the matter? You're early, Weasley is not with you, and your mind is barely within the Manor, let alone in this room." He speaks to Harry, but finishes the sentence with a meaningful look towards her.
"I haven't done anything. I was busy studying for my OWLs, remember?"
"Yes! Those, how did you do Delphini? Have you heard back?" Potter is desperately trying to adhere to small talk, for now.
"I did very well, thank you. I heard back on the first week of summer holidays," she knows he knows that, and he probably heard of her grades the same day she did, "Outstandings all around."
Potter's eyebrows fly up, then his hand combs back his hair, leaving it messier than it was. She doesn't need to see into his mind to know what he is thinking. He didn't know, which is odd.
"Well, congratulations! I guess I'll send two gifts on your birthday."
It all feels awkward. These so called inspections used to be easy, with carefree chatter between the two Aurors and the younger Malfoy couple. But Ron isn't here, and neither is Astoria, so it's all a bit stunted today.
"Draco, would you mind leaving us? I need to talk to Delphini. Alone."
"Alone?"
"He means he needs to talk to me about you-know-what," Delphini's voice cuts in, sharp, almost bitter, "and since I wouldn't have you dying over Auror Potter's inquiry, could you give us the room for a while? Please?" She remembers to ask in the end, because it is Draco she is talking to, but today, of all days, she is not happy about discussing the matter of her Father with Harry bloody Potter.
The room falls silent. Draco hesitates, resting his arms on the armchair. Then, he gets up, striding towards the door. He stops just a couple of steps away from the threshold, worry clear on his features.
"Do I need to ask for both your wands? Should I worry about the Ministry, Potter? Do I have to reinforce the wards?"
"Wha-what? No! It's alright, Malfoy, it is. The Ministry isn't coming for any of you. And I trust Delphini not to arm me," he chuckles, even though he shouldn't trust her, "I just want to know how she's dealing with all this."
Draco nods, walking past the door and closing it behind him.
"Colloportus. Muffliato," Delphini murmurs immediately, her wand emerging from the long flowy sleeves of her dress, "is it Andromeda Tonks? Is that why Auror Ron isn't here?"
Harry seems jarred by that.
"How do you know about Mrs. Tonks? Has she written to you? Visited?"
Delphini answers him with a half-enraged, half-disbelief glare. As if she needs people to talk to her to know what they're thinking.
"Right… No, it's not Andromeda Tonks. And Ron leaving has nothing to do with you."
A lie, she can tell, and a badly told one. But she'll let it slide if it means getting to the point any faster. Harry's shoulders slump and he lowers his torso to set his glass on the floor, by the foot of his seat. When his eyes meet hers again, she knows exactly what this is all about. And she intends on nipping it in the bud.
"It is none of your business, but fine, I'll tell you. Yes, I met my parents. I used the Stone to talk to them, yes. No, I do not have it with me, so no, I haven't done it again since I was busy tending to my duties in what concerns my education. That's it. I'm not talking about this anymore."
With that, she sits back on the sofa, crossing her legs, idly swirling the glass in her hand, a defiant look in her eyes.
"Fair enough. Though I was going to ask about how you're doing, in the face of it all-"
"Don't. Don't you dare. You took away my chance of talking to the only people I'd feel minimally comfortable discussing the issue with. The only people who could actually answer my questions about Lord Voldemort. You do not get to worry about me. You have no right of doing so. You turned You-Know-Who into You-Know-What within these walls. I fear mentioning my parents to my family because of what you did!"
She stands up hastily, placing her glass on the cart as she walks past it, her dress billowing around her legs on the path to the door, stopping only to face him for a moment.
"Finite Incantatem. Alohomora. I can escort you to the door, if you wish."
Potter isn't even up from his seat yet, so she doesn't linger. She turns on the spot and walks straight to the library. If he doesn't know his way to the door, the house-elf can help him. She hears nothing but the click and soft thump of her shoes on wood floors and rugs. Her hand is wrapped around the bird skull that hangs from her neck.
She closes the door behind her once she reaches the library, leaning against the wood. He has no right to her pain. He has no right to her trouble. And she is in pain. She had been successfully burying it in her chest, deep in a corner of her mind, until now.
They made her choose. Her parents made her choose between them and her family, and all she wants is to be right, to make the right choice She wants to choose the right path, the one that keeps her family alive, but what if her fate is set? What if she is meant for something despite her will? What if there is no path for her but the one where she gets her parents but loses her family?
She wipes the tears she didn't want to cry in the first place. Until she knows what her prophecy says, there is only one way. Forward. She points her wand at one of the shelves and an old book flies towards her. The leather of its cover used to have colour to it, but the centuries have eaten it away. The letters of its title are etched deep, though, and the gold still shines through in some places.
Delphini settles on her favourite armchair, by the window, curled up and setting the book on her lap. If she is to meet Euphemia Rowle, she will be prepared. Of Omens, Oracles and Fates should have something she can use. Caressing the polished leather of the cover, she looks for a path of her own.
X
Rowle House, July 18th 2013
She can barely believe herself. She is still dizzy from Apparating here, but Aunt Narcissa steadies her. Delphini feels like her stomach hasn't quite arrived yet, but she forces the nausea away and faces her aunt.
"You have to go now, Aunt Cissa. I have to go alone."
"No! Little bird, I could never let you go alone. Not to Euphemia. I don't know what the years have done to her, but I did not trust her around you when you were a baby, and I certainly do not trust her now."
"Aunt Cissa, you didn't see the look on her face at the platform. When she realized you hadn't told me... she wasn't just confused. She was angry. And I don't trust her anywhere near you. Or you around her, quite frankly."
Aunt Narcissa argues, but they both know how this will go. She tries to stay behind and wait here, but Delphini convinces her to leave. She needs to be completely focused, and she can't be if she's concerned with Narcissa coming in at any strange sound, or light or spark.
"I figured you would say so. Draco made this for you," she says, extending a worn out black button on the palm of her hand, "hold it in your hand, tight, and whisper Domus. It will take you home in the same instant." She runs her fingers through Delphini's hair, pushing a strand behind her ear, while she takes the button into the pocket of her robes.
Delphini watches her Aunt turn right and vanish in a whirl and a crack. Then, and only then, she looks down from the hill where she stands. Down the hill and past the meadow, there is a stately house, half way between a small castle and a manor, clearly beaten by the years. She makes her way down slowly, wishing she had brought Guivre along. She would like to have the cool of his scales against her skin right now. To have it steady her running heart.
There is a sorry excuse of a garden at the front door. It's mostly unkempt. No gates, very few wards. This is obviously the house of someone that's not used to having visitors. Still, she does the right thing. Coming uninvited, she stands still at the place where she can feel the wards sensing her magic, and waits.
Then she steps forward, walking to the double doors and tasting metal in her mouth. She collects herself in front of the old copper knocker. She raises her hand to it, but the door comes ajar before she can touch it.
A scrawny house-elf is looking up at her from her knees. He bows as he makes way for her, nearly touching his large nose to the floor.
"Mistress awaits you in the sitting room. If you'd come this way, Miss."
Delphini steps inside the dark house. There's very little sunlight inside and her eyes take a while to adjust. She can hear a sorrowful cry somewhere in the house. She follows the limping house-elf through the hallway, noticing how everything is covered in a patina of decay. She enters the sitting room as the witch inside rises from one of the sofas.
She is just as she remembered. The brownish-blonde hair. The light eyes, which she can now see are light-green, just on the verge of blue. She stands up very straight, proud, with a glint to her pupils that isn't entirely comforting. She curtsies, as any well-mannered pureblood woman is wont to in the presence of a superior.
She doesn't feel superior at all. This woman holds all the cards, as they stand now. She knows everything Delphini wants to. But she plays along, curtsying back not so deeply, in the dance of etiquette that she knows well.
"Miss Lestrange, I am honoured. Or should I say Miss Gaunt?" Her voice is more levelled today, soothing. A good voice for a Healer, one made to transmit confidence, calm. It still drives a shiver down her back and up again to the back of her head. Miss Gaunt. That is who she was supposed to be, in another world, in another future, in another time.
"Madam Rowle, thank you for having me. And I must beg your pardon for coming uninvited. It's Miss Black though." Her voice is just as collected, but there's an undertone, like the iron fist beneath the velvet of a glove.
"There's no need for apologies, Miss Black," she nods, with an honest smile, "let us have a seat, then. I believe we have a great deal to discuss. Lapbey, bring in the teacart."
The house-elf pops away and right back, pushing a cart with iced tea, biscuits and jam.
"Leave now," Euphemia orders, waving her hand dismissively. She takes a moment to adjust her sitting, enough to reach the cart easily and pour two glasses of iced tea, pushing the plate of biscuits in Delphini's direction.
She takes the offering mostly out of nervousness. How does one start such a conversation? Luckily enough, Euphemia takes the lead.
"Have they truly told you nothing about me?"
Delphini shakes her head, still devoid of words. For the first time in her life, her charm is failing her, completely. She can't think of a single thing to say, not even make small talk.
"I was there when you were born, Miss Black," she sounds almost hurt, but there is scorn in her tone as well, "I was the one supposed to take you if things went wrong, not them, but Rodolphus never came to me."
Delphini's eyebrows climb her forehead at that. Rodolphus Lestrange was supposed to give her up? From what she saw in her mind, he most definitely wouldn't.
"Don't look at me like that again! Have they told you nothing, Delphini? I'm sorry, Miss Black." She looks at her with fear in her eyes, and Delphini picks up on a memory of pain attached to a face very similar to hers. But she waves the slight away, sipping from her glass.
"You may call me Delphini. Everyone does, out of Hogwarts that is." Euphemia scoffs at that, as if it were absurd, but carries on.
"Of course he was supposed to come to me. He was left behind watching over you for the Battle but the deal was simple. If all went well, he would hide you away until the Dark Lord's power was clearly established and the resistance dealt with. If things went wrong though, he would bring you to me and run for it. Either way, the world would not know of you until the Dark Lord deemed it so. You can imagine my surprise when neither of those things happened."
"Why didn't you go to Malfoy Manor, then? You must have known things had gone wrong."
"I couldn't. My orders were to stay put. If the Malfoys didn't return from battle, the Ministry would find you and simply suppose you were the Lestranges' daughter. With your looks, it was an easy assumption. They had papers for you, too, ready to be filed. What business would I have in that house? It would raise suspicion; probably guarantee me a place at Azkaban, where I would not be able to set things in motion."
Delphini sets her glass down, fearing it will show just how badly her hands have started to shake.
"Set things in motion, Madam Rowle? What things?"
"The return of the Dark Lord, obviously! Gods of old, they have kept you in the dark. Come, I'll show you." She sets her own glass down, rising and motioning for her to follow her.
Delphini is not at ease at all following Euphemia around the poorly lit corridors. All the windows are covered by heavy, dark curtains. There are barely any candles. They pass a bird skull mounted on a wall, amongst several house-elf's heads. And the cry of sorrow carries through the corridors in an unnerving way that has her reaching for her wand in her pocket.
"Right through here, if you please."
Whatever is singing, or crying, is inside that room. It is clear once Euphemia holds the door open for her. She finds herself in a study. There are bookshelves lining two of the walls, and the portrait of a large, blond man over the fireplace. It doesn't move, and that, too, is strangely haunting.
Delphini stops noticing the room around her when her eyes land on the large cage across from the door. It's taller than she is by a good foot, and wide enough that two people could lay feet to feet across the bottom. The bird inside is large, made larger by the span of its wings when it spreads them, halting its song. It's mostly black, but there are greenish undertones to the feathers, though the tail is thoroughly, deeply black. Its head seems bare, except for the elegant and long feathers of the crown, where the colour is brightest, but it is covered in black small feathers that fit slickly to the skull and then down the neck, where they grow longer and somewhat greener at the chest. She finds it oddly familiar.
The bird skull in the corridor… My pendant!
It's a miniature, but she is quite certain that her necklace carries the skull of whatever bird this is.
"It's an Augurey. Beautiful, isn't it? It started to sing the moment you came in." Euphemia is smiling at her, warmly but expectantly, as if she is supposed to make some sort of connection.
"It's what the prophecy told of. An Augurey. You. I never heard it, but your Mother told me so."
Delphini's brain goes into frenzy immediately, her heart fighting against her ribcage through it all. The prophecy refers to her as an omen bird of doom and disgrace. She can feel the path drifting away from under her feet. She steels herself once more, keeping her eyes on the unmoving portrait this time. It must be of Thorfinn's. The day it moves, Euphemia will know her husband has passed.
She manages to put together a coherent sentence at last.
"My Mother told you of the prophecy?"
"Well, the Dark Lord wouldn't address me personally. He only did so twice. I got my orders concerning you through your Mother. Don't you see, Delphini, you were made for this. You alone can bring him back; you alone can make sure his plans come true. We'll rule again because of you."
Her voice has lost its smoothness, and the glint of fanaticism is back in her eyes, the one Delphini saw when she arrived. The bird starts to sing once more, high and mournful. This is all wrong, but she will not lose control this time. She will get what she has come for and figure it all at home, in the safety of her bedroom.
"When you said you were supposed to set things in motion, what is it that you have to do? Why did you wait until now? You must have known about where I was since that article in the Prophet."
Euphemia goes into a monologue about stars starting to align around her sixteenth birthday, and having to find her before it so that the rituals could be performed properly. Delphini is quite sure the witch is barely aware of her presence in the room. She is supposed to do her part by the autumn, it seems, when the Pleiades shine the brightest.
The Pleiades. Celaeno, the dark one, she remembers, Delphini is as scam as much as Lestrange is!
"Do you have the prophecy or not?" It comes out much sharper than she intended it to.
It does stops Euphemia. She moves to the desk in the corner, collecting a small, thin blade from a drawer.
"Don't be scared, Delphini," she is no longer Miss Black, apparently, "I just need some of your blood. I don't know exactly how this works, but the Dark Lord saw to its hiding place himself."
Delphini pulls out her wand. They do not need a blade to draw blood. Euphemia stares at the pale wand with an odd reverence, but shakes her head.
"It must be done with this blade, it's part of the ritual. It fits in a crevice here, do you see?" She points to one of the bookshelves while she moves closer to it. Lifting a wooden embellishment, she uncovers a slit just the width of the blade.
"Leave."
"What?"
"Leave, Madam Rowle. You've told me what to do. I'll do it. Alone. Out."
Euphemia offers her the dagger by the handle, bowing as she does, and retreats, looking over her shoulder in equal parts adoration and terror. The bird quiets once more, as if it too were expecting something. Delphini does not know what comes next, but she knows that this concerns her and only her. Euphemia doesn't have any information, she is simply the messenger.
Delphini takes the blade to the tip of her left ring finger, slicing it open, just enough to get blood all over the tip of the blade. Sucking on her finger for a second, she approaches the wood carving Euphemia lifted and slides the blade inside, all the way in. Nothing happens for a second, until she hears the sound of locks turning. It sounds a lot like the ones at Gringotts, a steady rhythm of pieces that come together and fall apart in sequence.
When it stops, the middle section of the bookshelf moves forward first, then up, to sit ahead of its upper counterparts. It exposes a nook. There is a deep blue velvet bag and a black cube, side by side, apparently of the same size. She reaches for the bag first. There's a sphere inside of it, and she knows what she holds in her hands in that moment.
Her purpose. Her fate. Her oracle. She dares hope, despite it all, that she does not hold her future.
There is no seal to the bag, just a tied cord. Prophecies are known to drive people crazy if touched by the wrong hands, and that alone is guard enough. Delphini sets the heavy bag on the desk, keeping both her palms on the velvet, trying to sense any sort of magic through it. She looks back to the nook where the cube still sits. Reaching for it, her skin feels the magic irradiate from its shape long before she touches it. It's not a simple cube, but a disguised box of some sort. Setting it next to the velvet pouch, she decides she will wait no longer.
Her attention is caught by a new sound. The bird is silent, but the day outside, so sunny when she got here, has turned grey and there's light summer rain tapping against the large window of the study. She shakes her head, shaking off her apprehension. Until she listens to the prophecy, there is no way but forward. After, she will have her choice. She will know where to go from here to keep her family.
Pulling the dark, thick cord, she takes a moment to revel in its soft texture and on the rumbling it transmits to her fingers, as it slides over itself on the knot. The velvet slides off the crystal on its own, smoothly, like running water off polished stone. The sphere inside is a thing of beauty, made of light and swirls of blue, dark and deep but also bright and light, some so light they're almost blindingly white. She forgets to breathe when she picks up on the darkest streaks, of a deep black that seems to engulf light.
She is not sure she wants to, but she must touch it. Her body acts of its own volition, all higher command forgotten. Her hands travel to each side of the crystal orb, her fingers spreading wide over the surface without touching it yet, the swirls inside dancing and spinning faster. It's like holding a small planet of blue in one's hands. Delphini picks it up, carefully, gently, utterly unaware of her surroundings. How can damnation be this beautiful?
Taking a step back, her lungs draw breath again. She can feel the magic rushing through her, from her hands to everywhere in her body. Her hair dances in a breeze that's not there, her robes billow against her legs. Her skin is illuminated in eerie blue, and her eyes are red. The world climbs and climbs with her and then halts and it feels like running into a wall at full speed.
The sphere sings. An ancient, sacred song made words.
Of a star and a serpent a child will be born
A creature of sorrowful song and sombre nature
The augurey of a new age
Born to raise the leader upon its dark wings
To a warrior and a ruler the child will be born
Darkness made flesh and omen made bones
To glory shall the augurey carry the one who leads
Laying waste to long held ways
Of the purest blood and the mightiest magic
In the warrior's womb created under the spell-tongue of snakes
Rising from the ruler's ranks to conquer all
A long fall will mark the ascension
Wings will spread wide and take flight
Ever the keeper of the Dark Lord's coming
Always the beast they'll try and slay
Feathers lost to a stronger hide
Watchful keepers shall guard the rising
But fall the songbird must
Only to rise again ever higher
A soaring dragon come to life
The song plays again and again. Every sentence, every word, burning into her mind, engraving itself in her flesh. The skin of her back stings, almost as if it were trying to tear itself apart. The pain sears, sending jolts of vivid pain through her thoughts, one for each verse.
The words are slow to sink into her, but they do. The frenzy is back. It's all so real, her path seems so definite, her purpose so final. With a piercing scream, she throws the sphere away from her, watching it move across the air, over the desk, on its inevitable fall. Delphini has to lean against the desk to keep from falling herself. She listens to the sound of crystal breaking from a faraway place, seeing it shatter and spread, tiny pieces sparkling on the floor, reflecting the reverberation of the raindrops. An enthralling play of light and sound.
The pain has changed. It's no longer on her back but on her palms once more. She kneels next to the desk, still looking at the remnants of the orb, watching volutes of blue and smoke and white and wind rise and be lost to the world. She looks at the palms of her hands and finds them terribly burnt, blistering and oozing. The Augurey accompanies the dying song of the prophecy, for a first and final time, and she feels drops of water fall upon her bleeding hands. The words run and run in her head, slowing down everything else.
She is crying, sobbing. In pain and in despair. Staring at her hands, stupidly thinking of how on earth she is supposed to hold on tight to the button and go home, Delphini fears she is already down the wrong path.
A loud gasp comes from the door. She never thought of locking it in the first place. Madam Rowle is by her side the very same instant it seems. Time either moves painfully slow and nauseatingly fast, there's no middle term. She is being spoken to, but all she can hear is the omen from the orb.
It's dizzying. It's so very dizzying and then it's all nothing. All is dark. All is wrong.
Author's Notes: So I got my hands on a functioning laptop and wrote too many words for chapter 46, which means this fic will not be closing at fifty chapters, as I was thinking, but more at fifty-five-ish. There's lots of parallel plots to develop, so the timeline has slowed down quite a bite. I am packing these fic with foreshadowing bits, so I hope you have fun picking it apart.
Anyway, please, please, please tell me what you think of that stuff up there. I've been kicking the prophecy around for quite a while, because it is fundamental to my story, but I have to tell you that it was my first attempt at poetry in English, so sorry for anything. Also, I can't get FF to let me format it properly. It's meant to have a space between each four lines, but oh well... I had to make do.
Thank you very much to all the people that have followed and favorited and subscribed and kudoed. I can run on fumes in desperate times, but I'd much rather run on reviews. I will be deprived of a laptop again, but I'll write away on my phone and edit when get a proper keyboard, promise.