Silverius looks up to the stands, trying to catch a glance of his sisters. He can't. He looks over his shoulder then, to the tent where he left Delphini to handle Skeeter and her nosy quill, but there's a barrage of people in between. Professor Slughorn nods, as if assuring him, and he nods back, out of politeness. He knows Delphini can handle it. He's still secretly surprised that she's not Hogwarts champion.
The dark stone house looms above the three of them, menacing, shrouded in secrecy. They brewed their potions. They have them neatly stored in flasks and vials that they keep close to their bodies. What they do not have is a clear view of what lies ahead. There is no door, just an archway completely filled with stone blocks.
A horn sounds, and he steps forward with Yusupova. Noailles dallies, and they both look back. Yusupova scoffs, shrugging her shoulders, but Silverius can't quite move on. They are all a mess of nerves, their minds rattled by the uncertainty of what's to come, but Noailles looks remarkably off. His feet do not move. Instead, his entire body oscillates back and forth, left and right, refusing to topple over somehow.
"Are you coming?"
"Ah, oui, oui," he answers, with a silly smile and an oblivious expression, "allons-y!"
They walk together now, all three of them, straight up to the embellished arch. The stone within it dissolves into thin, cold air, running past them and making them shiver. Instead of a door, there is a gaping hole in the wall now, a dark mouth to swallow them all, whole.
They step inside. The air past the threshold is not as cold, but the darkness is complete, despite the open gap and the daylight behind them. They hear nothing but the faraway roar of the crowd, muffled by more than simple walls.
Silverius raises his wand high, but dares not speak the spell for fear of disturbing something, anything. An orb of light emerges from the tip of his wand, and now they see that they are in a room with several doors. Not just three, more like a dozen, perhaps more. Silverius and Aleksandra carefully step forward, sneaking up to the doors like predators to prey, one foot in front of the other, exactly where the other last stepped. Louis Auguste wanders about, no real purpose apparent to his movements. It is so that both Travers and Yusupova step very lightly onto something that feels different, and immediately jump up, their hearts in their throats, as Noailles skips onto it, like a child onto a puddle, giggling at the reverberating sound.
'Ponder if you must, choose wisely above all, lest dallying be your fall' reads a large engraved sheet of metal embedded into the floor. It vibrates still, prolonging the ominous tolling.
"Sharp minds, yes?" Aleksandra smiles as her right hand reaches for the first of eight potions. There is no doubt to her gestures, as she gracefully uncorks a dark flask and flips it over her mouth.
Silverius can't help but agree with the Russian's conclusion, and so he too reaches for his brain elixir. His flask is equally dark, completely impenetrable to light. The moment he uncorks it, though, he has to squint, for the potion in itself shines. He closes his eyes and swallows it all in one gulp. It's bitter and cold, and it jolts his brain awake in a way he has never experienced. He wonders if that last note of sweetness was really meant to be there, nothing on the brain elixir's recipe would make it sweet at the end.
Do not dally, his mind reminds him. There's no sign of it, but there is a subtle feeling in the air, as if something were coming to get them.
Yusupova is already walking steadily towards a door on the far left, her long and tight braid waving down her red-cloaked back. She touches the door before her, and it too dissolves, letting the witch through and solidifying again.
Silverius looks around, taking in all of the doors. One of them seems to scream 'pick me' simply because there's a tiny red locomotive engraved above it. He steps towards it.
Once more, Louis Auguste stays behind. This time, though, there is something obviously wrong with him. He is standing over the metal, stomping his feet slowly and lolling his head to the grave clanking he produces. His head is surrounded by a visible daze, a mist that blurs his features, becoming more and more visible.
He's been Imperiused, he realizes. But he must not stay here for too long, he'll miss his chance. He points his wand at the archway they came through, and shoots bright red sparks, hoping that someone will notice the distress sign. He doesn't stay, though, compelled that he is to leave this antechamber. He simply must go, the train will not wait.
X
Delphini takes off, back through the slit she cut. She is followed, but she throws Knock-Back Jinxes over her shoulders, not really looking, while keeping her shield securely in place.
She runs and runs, her lungs swallowing large gulps of air, her ribs pulling them wider, her heart drumming a song inside her head.
Euphemia is somewhere in the castle. Euphemia has a plan to kill all three champions today. The sun is setting, making the windows shine in fiery tones, making the castle look like it's aflame inside.
She runs towards it, discarding her robe as she goes, done with the wat it keeps tangling on her legs. She is still being followed, she'll have most of the faculty on her heels soon enough, but she has no time to waste. No one will believe her if she stops and tries to explain. And if she stops, they'll die.
If they die, Euphemia will blame it all on her, she knows. If she won't play along, Euphemia will force her into her wings.
She trusts that the people in the tent will keep Noailles from drinking the poison Euphemia has given him. The poison she had him make. Still, she plans for the worst case scenario, playing itself in her mind. Images that haunt her mind from things she saw in his. Images of an empty eyed Noailles switching a vial in each champion's set of potions while pretending to check what they had all brewed. Of an absent-minded Noailles precisely chopping wolfsbane on a cutting board, and using not the roots like he was supposed to, or the flowers as he might.
Louis used the tubers. Decanted their poison into a tiny vial of his own, and two more for Travers and Yusupova. Euphemia has had this coming for weeks now, and the thought that she has been close enough to trap Noailles' mind and bend his will to hers makes Delphini's blood boil.
Later, she thinks. Revenge will have to wait. First, she must save them, and save herself in the process.
They haven't died yet, but Delphini knows Travers' potions are sound. So sound that he'll tip them over his lips without as much as a second thought. Yusupova won't think about it either, even if the taste is off.
She reaches the castle and skids across the entrance, one of her shoes coming off with a tumble. The other one makes it up the first flight of stairs, where she gets rid of it. She curses under her breath when the stairs shift while she's on the landing, but she leaps over the void. Her sock-clad feet frantically fight for friction over the slippery stone, and her braid smacks against her back, starting to come apart. She regains her footing and takes off running again, climbing the last flight of stairs. Her jumper is starting to feel unbearably warm over her body, and her tie is pulled over her head just around the corner.
She bursts into the Hospital Wing, slamming her body into one of the doors, her teeth clacking at the impact. She tastes blood, a bitten tongue she figures. She digs her feet into the floor so as not to crash against one of the many cabinets with glass doors. She pulls the door open, much too hard, and the glass shatters as it hits the next cabinet. Her hands search inside, looking for one particular wide jar.
Madam Pomfrey emerges from her office, clearly alarmed by the noise. They both hear the voices downstairs. Delphini is running out of time, and doesn't bother explaining. She grabs the jar, taking three Bezoars and stuffing them in her skirt pocket.
"What do you think you're doing? Put those back!"
Delphini doesn't. Instead, she ravages the bottom shelf of the cabinet, looking for a vial of Essence of Nightshade. She clutches it in her left hand, her right firmly grasping her wand.
"Move! I have to go! Expelliarmus!"
Startled by the sudden loss of her wand, Madam Pomfrey doesn't get out of her way, so she jolts her out of it with a quick wave of her wand.
Delphini runs out of the Hospital Wing only to find a bunch of teachers and Ministry officials running up the stairs. She turns the other way, Summoning her broomstick as she goes. She's running out of time, so she stops halfway down the corridor, willing to stand her ground so that her broom can actually get to her instead of having to chase her around.
She throws several Knock-Back Jinxes, waiting for the tale-tell whooshing sound of a broomstick cutting through the air. A short-haired witch with golden eyes is the first to come into view.
"Miss Lestrange, this is inadmissible-"
She cuts off Madam Hooch by tossing her back across the air, square into the wizards and witches now coming around the corner. She intends no harm, but she must keep them at bay.
"Sorry," she yells, mounting her broom. She flies over them, dodging the large lanterns that hang from the ceiling, down the staircase and out to the grounds. The light blinds her for a moment, but her steering is true and unchanging. She bolts for the Quidditch pitch, hoping that she'll touch ground on time. Hoping that there's enough Nightshade to save them all.
X
Silverius steps into a large room, completely bare but for the candlesticks emerging from the wall, one on each side of the door. The door seems to push him forward as it reappears.
Something else is inside, he can hear it breathe. Something large, snorting and puffing where it's dark and he cannot see it. Something moving.
His hand reaches for the potions, his fingers skipping between two flasks. Does he need the night vision or the repellent? His doubt is eliminated by the sound of hooves and their heavy step.
A goat-like horse slowly emerges from the shadow, the flickering light of the candles catching on its curved horns. Its fur is matted; there are lumps of it around its limbs, where it tangled the most. The beast snorts again, shaking its large head and unkempt mane.
Silverius is startled by the sound it makes. Something between a warning neigh and an angry bleat, as loud as a roar. The thing gallops towards him, its fangs showing every time it breathes, and his instincts take over.
His wand is out and firing spells in a second, but none work. They have shielded the creature, he understands, and that's why he must use the repellent, but where he is supposed to go then? He dodges and runs, locked in a frantic dance with a goat the size of a draft horse, while looking for a way out.
His wand shoots a large orb of pale light straight up, and the Bicorn's mood only worsens. He finds a door, then another, and then a third one, but he never has enough time to examine them before the Bicorn lunges for him again. He leads the dance then, not running but purposefully moving across the space, his feet quick on the stone floor, guiding the creature away from the doors. His left hand finds the Bicorn repellent, and smashes it against the floor. Figments of glass and drops of potion fly everywhere, spreading just before him and clinging to his clothes.
The Bicorn neighs, furiously, stomping its wide hooves and lowering its head, scrubbing its nose on its legs, protecting it from the smell. It is a rancid thing, and Silverius' stomach would turn had he the time to let it. The Bicorn staggers back, until its hindquarters hit the wall, then turns and starts kicking the wall, getting up on its hind legs, hooves clamouring against the stone wall, echoing to the point of causing pain.
Silverius pushes it all away from his mind, daring to turn his back on the creature. He takes his time examining the doors, looking for clues. He finds a dingy boat on one of the doorknobs, and he smiles. This is the one.
X
Delphini can see the tent now, and the awe of the crowd as the people bellow spot her dashing towards it. She doesn't land though, not yet, she needs help first. She circles the outside of the Quidditch stands, low enough to get a good look of the people outside.
The Prefects are supposed to be keeping watch at the exits, should the students grow bored or find the distraction of teachers suitable for troublemaking. She goes around half of it until she spots Teddy. He is alone and close to the tent, which makes things easier, but they are pressed for time.
She lands almost violently, though not ungracefully, and screams his name. He runs, his hair electric blue, his eyes asking a million different things.
She's much to warm now, so she pulls her jumper off and tossing it to the ground, undoing the tie that holds what remains of her braid in the process. She shoves her curls away from her face as she speaks.
"No questions, Teddy. I'll explain later, just do as I say," she asks, her eyes on his, "I need you to save Noailles while I get Travers and Yusupova."
"What the hell do you mean, Delphie? Have you-"
"Zip it, Teddy," she orders, her tone stern and unchallengeable. Her eyes are not on his anymore, but focused on the tip of her wand.
She Conjures two small vials, and carefully transfers some Essence of Nightshade into both of them. She gives the remainder to Teddy, who accepts it without uttering a sound, his breathe catching in his throat as he reads the label. Delphini takes the time to grab one of the Bezoars out of her pocket and place it in his other hand.
"Take those things to the tent, Teddy. Just tell them you've got the antidote, in case Noailles managed to drink the poison. Push through them and stuff the Bezoar in his mouth if they don't let you in, and then, explain that he needs the Nightshade to survive."
"What? Wait, how do you know all this?"
"Teddy, shut up and run. Don't worry, I'm fixing this."
She puts away the vials in her pocket while summoning her broomstick from the ground. As she pushes herself of the ground, Teddy starts running.
Delphini rises up in the air again, straight up, past the towers in the stands, up where the wind whips her hair against her. She looks down, soaring above the crowd for a moment, listening to their screams of wonder and fear, their attention robbed from the canvas screens and the champions. The thoughts that reach her up here are not kind, and she hears minds and mouths scream alike as she dives down to the dark fortress in the middle of the pitch.
X
Silverius pushes through the door and is immediately surrounded by pitch black darkness and complete silence. The echoing sounds of the Bicorn do not reach him here. He sees nothing, but he does not fear. This room feels empty. There's no breathing, no moving, nothing.
He holds his wand up.
"Lumos," he calls out, but nothing happens. "Lumos Maxima!" And still nothing. No light, and no echo to his words. Perhaps this room is too small to have an echo to it, or perhaps there are enough things in it to stop the echo.
This requires night vision, he thinks, as his left hand searches the Mokeskin bag again. He makes a mental note to thank Delphini later, as she was the one that insisted in different vials for all the potions, and the one that forced him to learn all their shapes and sizes while blindfolded. He feels for a roundish flask, one that has a bit of fur dangling from the cork. He closes his fingers around it and pulls it out, uncorking it with his wand, and flips it over his mouth. The smell is pungent to say the least, and the taste makes his whole body grimace.
He feels compelled to lick his lips though, and his hands seem to have a will of their own, rubbing against his cheeks and his chin and behind his ears. He drops the flask once he realizes just what he's doing, forcing his hands to be still, and blinking repeatedly, waiting for the potion to work.
He blinks, and scrunches his nose, and blinks again. He blinks, and is taken over by an urge to stretch, then blinks again and everything changes. The room is not utterly dark anymore.
Everything is in tones of blue and grey, as if bathed by moonlight, though a little blurry. The walls are covered in tapestries, the detail too fine for him to see from where he stands. He supposes that the doors are hidden behind. There is furniture as well. Soft looking poufs, and ottomans, and a tall bed, and little silent birds in a cage that derail his mind entirely and at once. His curiosity peaks, and he simply must explore.
He does, for a little while, before his mind yanks him off his absurd behaviour. There's good reason the potion is called Visio Feles, but the side effects probably explain why it never gained popularity. He turns his attention to the tapestries, fighting the urge to rub his face on them, but not quite managing to keep his hands off them.
A train. A dingy boat. A castle would make sense now. The thing is, most tapestries do depict castles in one way or another. Silverius walks from one to the other, back and forth between a couple of them. The dread from the antechamber settles in once again, the feeling that something is coming to get him.
Do not dally, do not dally, do not dally, his mind chants incessantly. He lifts the tapestries, trying to gather more clues from the doors themselves, but they are all exactly the same. The same notches on the wood, the same knobs, the same felling when he puts his hands against them.
He inspects the tapestries again, finding a troubling little poem embroidered in one.
'Hurry now, get out of here, the passing of time do you not fear? Run along, you scaredy-cat, lest your endeavour fall flat.'
The words resound inside him and he steps back. In doing so, his attention shifts to another tapestry, and he figures what was making his choice so hard. He must choose water.
A train. A dingy boat. A castle over the edge of a lake. He moves toward it with a spring to his step, lifting the tapestry and planting his palms firmly against the door behind it. It dissolves, and there's true moonlight on the other side.
X
Delphini lands swiftly on the grass, dropping her broom and running towards Ludo Bagman and Professor Slughorn.
"It's poison," she says before they can ask any questions, "Noailles is going to poison all of the champions! I have the antidote. I need you to get them!" Her voice is not as poised as it should be, not as smooth, and she has no time to be cloy-sweet about things and twist their wills to hers.
"What do you mean, Delphini?" Professor Slughorn seems taken aback, but she knows he knows about Noailles, he won't fight her if she explains just enough.
"Noailles used the wolfsbane to produce a poison instead of the intended potion for the task, sir. He switched a vial in each champion's stock, the Wiggenweld Potions. They are supposed to drink them at some point aren't they?"
"Yes, indeed. But we checked."
"You checked a list they each wrote down, not the actual potions. Professor Slughorn, we must go. Mr. Bagman," she calls, turning her attention to the other wizard, "you must take us to them."
"I cannot take you! That is against the rules, you cannot help the champions during the tasks!"
"What do you mean you cannot take me to them? I'm not helping, I'm trying to keep them alive!" She's wasting time arguing with Bagman, she knows it, but she needs him to take her to Travers and send someone else to Yusupova.
"Well… You see, Miss Lestrange, time is a little different once you're inside, and we don't know precisely where the champions are. And I do not understand how you've come to know all this…"
Delphini steadies herself, soothes her mind, and uses her most professorial tone.
"They could be poisoning themselves as we speak, Mr. Bagman. Noailles was Imperiused into doing it by someone else. He switched the vials, he probably managed to drink the one he had on him. I sent Teddy Lupin to his aid with a bezoar and Essence of Nightshade. I have more with me, for Travers and Yusupova. They'll die of wolfsbane poisoning if we stay here. Do you know what that means? Asphyxia and other lovely symptoms," she explains once more, disdain dripping from her lips as if Bagman was a simpleton.
Then Delphini changes her tone again, throwing all care to the wind. If he won't comply, she'll make him do as she says. Using a voice fit to lead an army into battle, she orders him.
"You will take me to one of them, and you will take Professor Slughorn to the other, and we will save them." She reaches for her skirt, taking care to keep her wand still and visible at all times. The last thing she needs is to be jinxed into oblivion now. She takes a Bezoar and a vial of Nightshade from her pocket and gives them to Slughorn.
The wizard shudders, and Delphini sees the error in her ways. Loose hair in the wind, wand in hand and willing to fight, she is too much like her mother. Ludo fears her now, and is frozen into inaction by it.
Bagman's eyes jump between her and her Head of House. Professor Slughorn opens his mouth to speak, but someone else does.
"Have you not heard Miss Lestrange, Mr. Bagman? Are you not here to ensure that the Tournament does not end with another dead student?" The Headmistress' tone leaves no room for doubt, there will be no more arguing.
Delphini looks at her while she marches towards them, closing the gap between her and Bagman. Far beyond Headmistress McGonagall, at the end of the pitch, the flaps of the tunnel to the tent let Potter pass, and he too rushes towards them.
"What would you do if the champions were in distress and had to be removed from the task, Mr. Bagman? Is there not a spell on them that allows you and a few selected others to reach them?"
"Yes, of course, but we have no proof of this. There is no danger!"
"If it weren't for Delphini's quick thinking and action, Mr. Bagman, Noailles would be dead now. Time is faster inside, is it not?" McGonagall seems to be on the very verge of jinxing the wizard before her. Delphini gathers that she won't because she is not one of the selected few she mentioned.
"Bagman, she's right! It was wolfsbane, I was just in the tent," Potter screams, approaching them, skidding to a halt besides Delphini. "I'll take her to Travers, get Slughorn to Yusupova. NOW!"
Auror Potter takes hold of her left arm, and looks into her eyes. "Have everything you need?" She nods once, and he moves his hand to hers, "Don't you dare let go, it's quite a ride."
The faces, the sun, the colourful pitch, it all vanishes in a dizzying whirling motion. This doesn't feel like Apparating though, not at all, and Delphini is quite sure her last meal won't stay put.
X
The moonlight inside is enchanting. The ground crunches under his feet, dark and moist earth shifts under his weight, and there are rocks everywhere, and small trees, and proper bushes and pale wildflowers. There are even scraps of snow. Looking up though, there's a very visible ceiling, and a very fake, but very full, moon.
He looks around, carefully moving about the forest. He hears a little patter here, and a little patter there, but sees nothing. He scrubs his eyes, itching now that the Visio Feles is wearing off. When he opens them again, there's a tiny Mooncalf sniffing his clothes.
The creature's large eyes seem to widen further, and a distressed little whimper leaves its mouth. Its tiny webbed feet rattle over the rocks as it runs, the nails hammering the rhythm of its short legs moving, which they do a lot faster than the Mooncalf itself. Silverius looks on as an adult emerges just long enough to take the little calf into hiding.
His mind is a little baffled to say the least, but it takes him to a happy place in his memories. Back when his sisters where little and he and Mum would sing to them before they went to sleep. There was a little lullaby about Mooncalves singing at the moon. He does have an Oscinevox Potion in his bag, maybe he is supposed to sing to them?
He explores his surroundings a little, and quickly figures that he'll get truthful and utterly lost if he keeps at it. Singing it is, then. He takes a vial off his bag for the fourth time today, wondering what the school will think of him singing lullabies to Mooncalves. He'll be mocked for the rest of his life, he's sure, but there's a reason the Goblet chose him, he figures.
He clears his throat, and tries out a couple melodies, trying to remember which one went with the Mooncalf lullaby, and the proper lyrics. He takes a deep breath then, trying very hard not to blush, and starts to sing.
It takes two verses to get the Mooncalves to come out, three to have them come near him, and four to watch something so far from what he had expected this task to be that his brain just stops functioning for a whole minute.
The Mooncalves are singing along, the calves making little happy-sounding noises while the adults hum and vocalize in tune to his singing. They seem to dance as well, their heads bobbing in time.
He is left so absolutely speechless that he forgets to keep singing. His voice just dies after the verse about the little mooncalf that went too close to the cliff and fell. The Mooncalves all stare for a moment, then scurry off screaming in their silly voices, back to behind the rocks and under the bushes and what not. Only one little cub remains, sitting on its hind legs, not far from him, still lolling its head from side to side, making a 'yaaa-yaaa' sound to a song that only it can hear.
One of the adults rushes back, trying to get the calf to move, but it stills, eyes on him, as Silverius starts the song again. This time he is ready for the sight, so he keeps singing, despite the absurdity of it all.
And then, he understands. The Mooncalves form a line and start to truly dance this time. They start weaving around the rocks and the trees, and moving away from him. The little calves do not follow, they gather around him, looking up from his feet. They stare at him, and then at their parents, again and again, yapping and bleating softly as they do. Once Silverius starts following the grown-ups, they seem to cheer, and the sound of that almost stuns him into silence again.
He moves from lullaby to lullaby, and when he runs out, to his embarrassment, the only thing that pops in his mind is the Hogwarts school song. He just hopes that this is over before he has to sing Celestina Starbeck's songs, drilled into his memory because of Christmas at Grandma.
Fortunately, the Mooncalves stop moving further into their small forest, dancing straight to what seems to be a wall and gather round a door. There is a platform floating on air a meter or so off the ground, with a hat on top. It looks like he got it right.
The Mooncalves do not leave immediately when his song ceases. Instead, they linger, making reassuring little noises, wiggling their tiny tails, frolicking with their young as if they were not terribly shy around people.
Their presence is not enough to erase the dreading though. Silverius has found that his mind can be distracted from it, but it's always there. He wonders if the Mooncalves stayed because this hat sings too, but the hat turns out to be quite common once he picks it up. He forgets about it quite quickly, for what remains on the platform sure catches his attention.
There is a dark purple potion in a clear crystal vial. It isn't much, but given what he just had to do, and the potions he has left, he guesses it's Sleeping Draught.
This ought to be fun, he thinks, what am I supposed to do? Drink it and counteract it right away?
He doesn't find it amusing to learn that he is right. There is a note under the vial, another little poem, of which he happens to have had quite enough.
'Drink me if you want the door gone, careful not to sleep until dawn. Hurry now, down your throat, you must have the antidote. Past this door, a guide you'll find, though you'll have to wake her mind. Once aware, her heart might halt, and if it does it's all your fault. She'll like you not, she'll not comply, your shrewdness you must amplify. True she is, trust her steer, for you alone the crowd will cheer.'
He puts the poem down, tapping the paper against the slab of floating stone. The path is clear in his mind. He takes out his vial of Wiggenweld Potion and places it next to the Sleeping Draught. He'll have to drink one after the other, and be quick about it. That leaves three potions to be used, two for his guide, whoever she is, and one for him.
He straightens his body, shaking off the weariness threatening to take over. His sudden movements scare the Mooncalves away, but he is too focused to notice. He uncorks both vials, and holds one in each hand, taking some time to steady his heart. This sure beats having to rescue his sisters, after all. And he'll get some stamina from saving himself from a prolonged nap. He takes the purple potion to his lips and swallows it all in two gulps, and then he drinks all of the Wiggenweld in a single one, feeling his throat strain against the large swig.
The door vanishes, and he moves towards it, but he is dizzy. He forces his mind to focus again, and then he sees her.
Right in the middle of the room ahead, bathed in warm light. Stony and asleep, a beautiful woman lies in a bed of leaves and flowers, covered by the branches of two trees that seem to have grown from her hair and from her feet. There's a greenish hue to her skin, a crown of flowers on her head, and small, green leaves that sprout from her hair and skin here and there. A Nymph.
A bit too dizzy for his liking but not so much that he cannot make it across the threshold, he steps forward. He places his hand on the wall, just beyond the door, steadying himself. His mouth feels numb and tingly, and he doesn't quite remember that as an expected effect of any of the potions. He also feels much too sleepy.
'She'll not like me at all,' he recognizes, trying to anticipate just how much of a fight she'll put up. Nymphs have been extremely suspicious of humans for centuries now, tired of having their domains invaded and torn apart.
He makes himself walk towards her. His breathing is becoming laboured, the numbing is worse, his head hurts, he's so dizzy now that he probably looks drunk, and he feels sticky. He is also utterly exhausted. He pushes himself forward, one step at a time, but his legs falter, and his vision darkens.
"Travers," sounds a voice behind him. He wonders how the Nymph knows his name already, and his mind goes dark before he can realize his mistake.
X
"Travers," Delphini calls once she lands, while trying to steady herself and not vomit.
Travers is down, but he has just gone down, she saw it. There's time, there must be time. She runs towards him, Bezoar and Nightshade in hand already. She pretty much stumbles to his side, and falls on her knees when she reaches him. She turns him, and Potter is already on his other side, propping his head up. Delphini feeds Travers the potion, and Harry places the Bezoar over his tongue, closing it and laying him back down.
They sit there, very quiet and very still, the both of them. Travers takes a large breath at last, then another, and then resumes breathing steadily, as sleeping people do. Only then do they calm down.
"He has Restorative Draught, right? Do you suppose we could use it to wake him?"
"I'm afraid not, Professor. He hasn't been cursed or transfigured. He can sleep the draught off," Delphini replies, smirking. "Why would they make time move faster in here? What's the point?"
"Because it would take way too long otherwise and because it warps the potions effects. They kick in earlier and wash off much faster. And, as I am told, because it creates a dreadful sensation on those that remain inside."
"That it does," she says, feeling it already. "Professor, I only knew what to do because I saw it in Noailles' mind. I saw who made him do it as well. How do I explain it all?" She begrudges having to ask for help, but this is too much, and she is in too deep. She can't just smile and charm her way out, not when she has exposed herself like this.
"I'll help you. Who was it?"
Delphini doesn't answer, not right away. She wants revenge, she wants to make Euphemia go away. But what if setting the entire Ministry on her only makes it worse? What if she goes after her family before she can reach them? And what if telling the true about what she knows only taints her more? What if she's expelled for this? What if she's not here to keep Scorpius safe next year?
X
Harry looks on as the wheels turn inside Delphini's head. Her eyes vacant, her body still, her pale complexion and dark hair in striking contrast to the warmer colouring of the petrified Nymph behind her. He wonders if they're supposed to wake her, before returning his attention to the witch across him.
It infuriates him, that's the truth of it. He keeps sticking his neck out for her, and yet she will not trust him, not completely. Won't just spill what it is that she's fighting, because he is certain that there's a larger picture to all this.
"Delphini, I'll help you, but you have to explain it all to me. I can't protect you unless I know."
"I'm not sure anyone can protect me, not from this."
It angers him that she is so careful and so skilled with words that she won't even say he or she, only this.
"I'm pretty sure the Ministry has a fair chance." He tousles his hair as he realizes what he has just said, raising a hand to stop Delphini from replying. "Forget that. Let's make it a group of carefully placed people inside the Ministry, together with a couple of outsiders, all with a vested interest in your safety. How about that?"
Still no answer. Just her eyes looking into his, and the wheels turning behind them. A change of subject then.
"We'll have to tell them about your Legilimency, there's no way around it."
"What? How is that helping me?"
'That caught her off guard then, good. Maybe I can get her to give a name', his mind figures.
"Draco is a Legilimens, your Uncle Lucius probably knows something about it as well. We'll pass it of as Malfoy standard rearing. They'll buy it."
"Not everyone. McGonagall sure won't, she knows when and where Draco learned it."
"McGonagall won't say a thing. She'll have a conversation with the both of us, latter, but she won't fight my word in public. She trusts my judgement."
"And I won't because I won't tell you who did it, is that it? You're an Auror, are you not? Can't you figure it out? Can't you look into his mind and see for yourself?"
That means it must be someone he wouldn't recognize. She's teasing him, angering him so that he gives up.
"Tell me, Delphini, don't make me crash into your mind," he warns her, part jokingly part not. This is much too big, much too dangerous, to keep quiet and solve completely outside the public sphere. This will make every cover there is to make, even the Quibbler.
"You wouldn't," she says, in all seriousness and not a doubt to her voice, "you never crashed into my father's when it mattered, you won't do it to me." She lifts her green eyes from the floor to his face, her heavy lids shrouding them, her eyelashes shading them, and a hint of a smile to her lips. A mischievous little thing, almost malicious.
Harry says nothing, because she is right. He never crashed into Voldemort's mind, not once. It was always Voldemort crashing into his, whether or not he willed it.
"Fine, don't tell me then. I'm searching the grounds already as it is. How do you explain your claim that he was Imperiused?"
"Well, the blur around his head was quite visible, and I am a Legilimens. I could sense another presence in his mind. One that I could not, and cannot, put a name to. What I could see was what Noailles had done, so I acted accordingly."
Harry nearly laughs out loud at her ease. She has twisted the entire plan she had into something else entirely, and she won't be caught off guard now. Not a chance of that.
"You're not telling me, are you?"
"After this is dealt with, I might."
"Why is that?"
"I don't trust your ability to keep a straight face and help me through the mess to come if I tell you now."
"Your aunt demanded the same blind promise out of Hermione, not that long ago."
"So?"
No, he is not getting a single figment of information out of her, not unless she deems it necessary. He can't win, not like this, and he won't let her stand alone, so he gives in, for now.
"Travers here will sleep like a baby through the ride back. Do you feel up for it?"
He gets up gingerly, extending his hand to her. She takes it gracefully, and without even trying rises in all her elegance, despite her wrinkled clothes and her loose hair, which should make her look positively wild. They hoist Travers up, pulling his arms around their necks, and hold hands behind his back.
"Don't you dare let go," she jests, "I did not save him so that you can butcher him."
X
It has been at least a couple of hours, and still, they are all in the tent, fighting over what happened and what they should do. McGonagall has dispatched most of the teachers to the searching of the grounds, conducted by the Aurors. The Prefects have been commanded to take all students to their Common Rooms. Even Teddy was sent on his way, since he had already told them all he knew.
That his cousin had descended from the skies on a broomstick, told him to shut up and questions later, and to run so that Noailles wouldn't die. And he was fuming by the time he realized he wouldn't get his explanation out of her anytime soon.
Delphini offers the same explanation time and time again, relentlessly questioned by a dozen different people. She does not falter, giving everyone time to recover from the fact that she's a Legilimens, acting as though it is simply part of being raised a Malfoy, though careful not to act as if it were as easy as she truly finds it.
"I knew what Noailles had done because I looked into his mind. I knew someone else was making him do it. I didn't have the time to explain it to you because Travers and Yusupova were already inside. So I took off to get Bezoars and Essence of Nightshade. I came back, I told Teddy to run to Noailles and feed him the antidote, because the person ordering him was also telling him to poison himself. Then I flew over the stands and explained to Mr. Bagman and Professor Slughorn what was going on. Headmistress McGonagall and Auror Potter came along then. Auror Potter took me to Silverius, and I suppose that took Professor Slughorn to Aleksandra. And that's how we saved their lives, which was the goal here."
"And why, exactly, were you in the champions' tent to begin with, Miss Lestrange?" Bagman won't let her go easy, despite his fear.
"Silverius was afraid that you might take his sisters and use them in the task, somehow. He was concerned for their safety, so I promised him that I would look for them before the task started, and let him know that they were perfectly fine, watching him from the stands."
"Hmm, so you broke the Tournament rules? You and the Hogwarts champion?"
"I do not see how assuring a brother of his sisters' well-being is breaking the rules, sir. I was where I was not supposed to be, but that's all. You can have Headmistress McGonagall dock points for it."
Professor Slughorn lifts his brows from behind Bagman, warning her. Ludo seems intent on spreading his fear of her, and on disqualifying someone.
"Miss Lestrange, you hexed faculty members and Ministry officials, did you not?"
"I used Knock-Back Jinxes, not hexes, because I intended no harm, sir. I didn't have enough time to explain, and they were on my way."
"You attacked me," accuses Mrs. Pomfrey. There's little chance of being allowed back into the Hospital Wing as an apprentice after today.
"I prevented you from using your wand against me and moved you out of my way, that's all. You know what would have happened to Silverius, Louis-Auguste and Aleksandra had I been too late. So does Professor Slughorn."
"Is she right, Horace?"
"Yes, Ludo, she is. They would have all died, and it would have been much worse than simply fading away. Miss Yusupova was having convulsions from the poison when we found her, for Merlin's sake!"
"Have you checked her wand, yet? What if she was the one Imperiusing the French champion? Have none of you considered it?"
"She is not of age, Bagman. She still has the trace on her. She wouldn't be able to cast an Unforgivable Curse and not have three different Ministry Departments on her, you know that. Stop being unreasonable, man." Professor Slughorn looks exhausted, and he is clearly done arguing with Bagman.
"In such instances," Headmistress McGonagall steps in, hands together at her waist and with as much composure as Ludo's attitude allows her, "I believe that we must be true to the facts and let them guide our actions."
"The facts are that Miss Lestrange is a danger to others and should be expelled!"
"The facts are evident, Ludo. Monsieur de Noailles was Imperiused in order to eliminate all three champions for reasons still unclear. His actions led to Miss Yusupova's and Mr. Travers near demise. Miss Lestrange interfered with the task and by doing so saved all three champions. In the very nick of time I'd say."
"She broke the rules and attacked the faculty. She used Hooch as human ammunition! She is clearly dangerous, she should be suspended. She's a Lestrange. Raised by Malfoys at that, and their taught her Legilimency!" His voice becomes shriller as he speaks, rising in volume until he is screaming at the top of his lungs.
"I'd say you are prejudiced in your views of this particular student, you've made it quite clear to all of us that she is the daughter of Death Eaters, and that she was raised by them as well. Several times now, Ludo," McGonagall replies, her voice steady where it was, "none of those things happens to reason for punishment, let alone expelling. That being said, Miss Lestrange, I am docking seventy points for destroying school property and jinxing several teachers."
"The girl is a menace! She should be expelled for what she has done," Bagman screams again, pointing his finger at her.
"Tell me again how I'm being expelled over what I did and not over being who I am, Mr. Bagman," she lets the words sink through the silence, staring right into the wizard's eyes, "because I didn't believe the first time you said it and I think there are people in this room that would agree with me." Delphini's tone is cutting, though poised.
"You do not fool me girl, I'll be watching you from now on, and I'll have you expelled by Ministry order if you so much as deliver homework late! I know what your parents did, I know what that boy in Malfoy Manor is."
That does it. That drives Delphini over the edge. She steps closer to Bagman, who quickly takes three steps back and pulls out his wand. Delphini doesn't. She is seething, but she is not a fool, and she knows precisely what's at stake here. Her family's safety is not something she would endanger by answering such provocations with violence.
"That boy in Malfoy Manor is a perfectly normal ten-year-old, who happens to be my cousin, my family, not some spawn of darkness as you fools are so fond of thinking. Leave him out of this, Mr. Bagman." She doesn't threaten him as she would like, he is a loose cannon ball and it could quickly turn into a proper fight. And that would almost certainly get her expelled.
"Ludo, get it together, I am done with this nonsense," McGonagall orders, stepping in between them and turning to her, "Miss Lestrange, that insubordination will cost you another ten points. Remember your manners, since some of us seem to have forgotten them." She intently turns to Bagman at that. "I believe the matter is settled for now. The true culprit of this all could still be in the grounds, you'd be better off helping with the search, Mr. Bagman."
Ludo Bagman storms off the tent, red as a tomato, still vociferating about how blind they all are.
"May I be excused, Headmistress? I would like to check on Travers and the others before I retire. And I must talk to Teddy as well."
"Not quite yet, young lady," Slughorn says, placing a kind hand over her shoulder, "Madam Olympe and Headmaster Berezhnoy have asked to pass on their gratitude. They would like to have a word with you, in private, tomorrow after breakfast."
"Of course, Professor."
"That being said, saving the lives of three students with such quick wit and vast knowledge is deserving of reward, is it not, Minerva?"
"Indeed. Which is why we, the Headmasters, have decided to award you with a hundred points, per champion, Miss Lestrange," the headmistress nearly smiles saying it. "Make sure to wait until the morning to speak to Mr. Lupin, once the curfew is lifted, so that I do not have to dock anymore points from Slytherin, tonight."
"Now, Poppy, I believe the champions are still all here, in this tent?" Slughorn chirps in again, all pride now. "She'll just have a quick check and be on her way, if you please."
"They are still here because it was deemed too risky to move them inside, with the residual effects from so many potions still in their bodies, not to mention Apparating through all sorts of magic. They are asleep now, of their own volition, and I shall be keeping watch tonight."
Delphini can almost feel the darts being shot from Madam Pomfrey's eyes hitting her skin.
"Well then, I suppose I could leave them be until the morning," she offers, hoping to appease the matron somehow.
"That would be better, yes. They'll be moved to the Hospital Wing first thing in the morning, and you will be allowed exactly two minutes with each of them, no more. No arguing," she adds, sternly looking to both her and Professor Slughorn.
"Thank you for your kindness, Madam Pomfrey. I could watch them tomorrow, if you'd like?"
"You've done quite enough tonight, Miss Lestrange, thank you. I will not require your services tomorrow either."
That's it, then, no more working in the Hospital Wing. Delphini can sense it, she will not be allowed back in unless there's a catastrophe and her services are absolutely necessary.
She bows her head demurely, saying her goodbyes. Just before she leaves, for some much necessary sleep, her mind picks up a loose end.
"Oh, just one more thing," she says, turning over her shoulder, a hand already pushing the flaps open, "who won?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Where was Yusupova when you found her, Professor?"
"By a door, surrounded by fretting Mooncalves actually. I don't follow."
"So Travers won. He was the one that got the closest to the cup. Slytherin wins."
Slughorn laughs, "I guess we do, I guess we do."
"Miss Lestrange," comes the very inpatient voice of the Headmistress, "I suggest you go straight to bed, and leave these matters for the jury…"
"Yes, of course. Goodnight," she nods as she says it, right before she steps out of the stale air in the tent and welcomes the night's cool breeze.
X
Delphini enjoys the fresh air for a couple of minutes, standing very still just a couple of yards away from the tent. Euphemia is gone, she knows it, and has been gone since Delphini found her in Noailles' mind. She wouldn't linger. She managed to get inside Hogwarts multiple times, unnoticed, leaving wouldn't be that hard.
She's a little cold now. Without as much as her jumper, the Scottish summer soon becomes brisk. She starts walking, thinking of ways to let her family know of the lie she has had to tell, before the newspapers do that is. Rita Skeeter was there when she returned with Potter and Travers dangling from their shoulders. There are pictures of that, and pictures of just her, and of all the mess that ensued until McGonagall had ordered them all inside the tent. There is no stopping it now, she knows. Even if Skeeter dares not write about her, and she doubts she's that afraid of Aunt Cissa, she will sell the pictures to all the others, and there will be no keeping her off the front pages.
She hikes up the path to the castle, only her hair for a cloak, her long legs clad in nothing but knee-high cotton socks, arms around her body, trying to conserve some heat, too tired to attempt the Conjuring of a simple shawl.
"Delphini, wait."
She stops walking, and waits for Potter to reach her. They resume walking together, and Harry insists on draping his light cloak over her shoulders.
"Will you tell me now? I have to know who we're looking for."
Delphini stops again, making him turn to look at her.
"How do you explain to the others that you just happen to know who to look for? It's illegal for you to look into Noailles' mind, and I told everyone I didn't know. If telling you the truth risks pulling my lie apart, I will not."
"I'm not telling the others, Delphini. We've turned the grounds upside down, there's nothing. Not a trace of magic. Do you know how hard that is? To erase your magical print after something like an Unforgivable, kept from a distance at that?"
"How do you know it was kept from a distance?" She is genuinely curious, she is, but she also needs every bit of information about the witch she's up against.
"There was no one outside the pitch that was not inside the castle, except for you. We made sure of it. With parents and Ministry people and diplomats coming over to attend the last task, we had everyone on this. It was either done from the stands, or from the tree line by the Quidditch pitch."
"How are you not telling the others?"
"I just won't. We are calling it for tonight. I'll just keep my head up from now on. Who was it, Delphini? Please."
"Euphemia Rowle," she says, no intonation to her voice.
"Ro-Rowle? As in the Death Eater Rowle that's locked up in Azkaban?"
"His wife," she merely clarifies, already walking away.
"She fell off the face of the earth after the war, there's not as much as a known address to her." He's talking to himself now, rather than with her, but he takes a couple of long strides to catch up, and keeps walking alongside her.
"I don't even know what she looks like. The latest photograph of her is from her time at Hogwarts. I'm looking for a ghost!"
"You're the one who wanted to know. Now you do." And she does not ask if he regrets it, it's all too visible in his features.
They walk the remainder distance in silence, both lost in their thoughts. Delphini eventually comes out of hers, for Potter's are much more interesting.
There has been a series of attacks, it seems. Small things, things that wouldn't raise alarm if it weren't for the pattern. Things that wouldn't even be seen as attacks were it not for the fact that Muggles are not that prone to accidents, least of all freak accidents like these.
Gruesome accidents of people falling on objects and being precisely impaled. Of Muggles that forget to use the hand brakes on their cars and end up under them at their doorstep. Vicious attacks blamed on stray dogs, burglaries that go wrong in bloody ways.
The Prophet won't mention it until the Ministry is forced to handle it, she knows. What she finds in Potter's mind is that their Muggle connection agents are at their wit's end trying to keep things under wraps, and they haven't got a clue.
Delphini does, and she does not like it. Harry wonders if this could be the same ghost they've been trying to get for months now.
She returns the cloak by the door to the castle, wondering just how large Euphemia's mastermind plan actually is. Harry's hand on hers, under the cloak, brings her back to reality.
"I can help you. I'll protect you."
"I don't think anyone can protect me, not from her."
Author's Note: Sorry guys, my writing was derailed by the finding of a plot hole the size of a small country. The thing started in this chapter and carried on until pretty much the end, and then there was something that sort of fell out of the sky. Fixing it has meant elongating this chapter, and will probably up the final chapter count, but I guess that's not necessarily bad.
That being said, Merry belated Christmas and a Happy New Year! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, please let me know what you think.
To the lovely Guest that left that very awesome and very kind review about ten days ago, a massive thank you. The rest of you I'll PM as usual. Thanks for reading.