Baby's
black balloon makes her fly
I almost
fell into that hole in your life…
"Which possibly explains how I know you. Aida. Why, yes, Harry, I did know your mum. Very well," Saunders conceded. A slow grin spread over her face as she told
the story. "We met at a convention in
Diagon Alley the summer just before my fifth year, some book-signing or
something at Flourish and Blotts." She couldn't go on with the story in a
sudden fit of laughter, and she was forced to down on the ottoman in front of
Ron. "And then—and when she sat down
next to me, she said something under her breath about how this author was the
only wizard she knew who—well, something, I don't recall now. And I argued with her! Me! This—This—oh, my!--This short little fourteen year-old witch bickering
with Lily Potter in the middle of a bookstore! Priceless!" The laughs died down to silent snickers, giving Harry time
to digest this new information.
…And you're
not thinking about tomorrow
'Cause you
were the same as me
But on
your knees
"But how,"
interrupted Hermione, "did you meet Professor Lupin?"
This
comment wiped clear any sign that Saunders had ever been happy in her
life. And when she spoke, it came as a
breath more than a statement, "Through Lily and James, of course. We were both at the wedding. We were both at the hospital when Harry was
born. We were both at the fun--." Her sentence broke off before she dropped
that note of finality. Hesitantly she
switched subjects, "But I always did have a little crush on Sirius in those
earlier days. James used to tease me
about it."
She forced
a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes
The
reminiscing took over any conversation for a minute or so, a quiet dreamy look
glazing over Saunders' gray eyes, Harry's mouth slightly open as he tried to
piece together all this news, and Draco impatiently tapping his foot against
the leg of the table. Saunders snapped
out as suddenly as she had fallen in.
"But that's another story, 'nother
time—anyway!" She smiled for a
moment, then it flickered. "Into the Woods. You don't watch musicals?" Four shaking heads, and a sigh from the
grown witch. "Well. We are to decode and put to use a prophecy
from a few blind old women from Northern Scotland. They're usually quite reliable diviners, though they tend to use
difficult metaphors and the words are always in verse. But they never send along any messages until
it's very nearly too late." She
snatched a scroll from midair, unrolled it, and began to read.
A thousand
other boys could never reach you
How could I
have been the one…
"Six shy
of a score have passed,
And no
glimpse of settling the score.
This new and
cruel reign cannot last,
That of the
tyrant of ages before.
"Unwillingly
Iphthime offers her clue,
Traces of
her sister now far from that isle.
Those who
make it to Cronus are few,
And
demanded of them is guile.
"If Pallas
dares, then hear her speak;
If not,
turn to Cythera.
One hints
at worlds of things to be,
The other
of times to care of.
"Cassandra's
lover holds the key,
Though in
a most unlikely place.
Realize
that 'twill be he
Who
recognizes the space.
"Arthur of
Camelot, here so familiar;
Iago, now
who's turned his stripes;
Sancho
Panza, a look dissimilar;
And
Beatrice with her wit that bites---
"Each
wields a power they know not of;
Each sings
a song with no words.
Each
talisman offers powers of love,
Each will
discover things unheard."
…I saw the
world spin beneath you
And
scatter like ice from the spoon
That was
your womb
Saunders
turned her gaze to the teapot, steaming and nearly ready to whistle. "What do you four think?" She moved to pour the five cups before they
responded, so Draco raised his voice as he spoke up for the second time.
"The whole
of 'em are barking mad."
"Draco,"
Hermione's voice held a warning edge.
"Well,
they are!" He insisted, finally
slamming all four legs of his chair to the floor. "These crazy metaphors! If I knew what they all meant, I could tell you that they won't be of
any help. The only thing that makes any
sense is the talisman thing, but it'll be hell getting to them."
"You know
about a set of talismans?" Saunders
sounded less of scorn than suspicion.
Coming
down the world turned over
And angels
fall without you there…
"No, we
five are risking our lives for the fate of the world and mankind, Muggle and
Magic alike, and I'm lying about possibly the only chance we've got." Narrowed eyes and a cocksure sneer were the
return. "They're hidden all over the
world. It would take ages to get them,
if we even survived to keep any of them. My dad had a major hand in the curses put on the one in Britain, so I know
there's some bad stuff going around them."
…And I go
on as you get colder
Or are you
someone's prayer
"Where are
the others?" Saunders pressed. The trio
had long since fallen silent with wide eyes and slack jaws.
"Moscow, Brisbane,
Quito, Johannesburg, and the activator is hidden somewhere in Washington,
D.C. I could tell you the buildings for
the others, but that one I wouldn't know. I dunno if my dad even knows."
You know
the lies they always told you
And the
love you never knew
What's the
things they never showed you
That
swallowed the light from the sun
Inside
your room
"Good
work, Malfoy," she nodded sharply. "We'll
be traveling then. First to Russia, and
then we'll go to Brisbane. If we move
fast enough, we'll go for the activator last."
"I read an
article on all that." Hermione spoke
up. All heads turned her way. "It was in Witches' Monthly about a year ago. Cornelius Fudge was going to make amulets that retain certain attributes
of magic's powers and send them out to international Ministries. The British Ministry decided against it, though;
no one had the money to put into security around the things."
"And," Ron
added uncertainly. "the four cardinals
of magic are easy. They're in the
Ministry's motto: Honor, Creativity, Kindness,
and Game."
The words
whirled around Harry's ears, and he comprehended them with understanding. Sheer insanity, this was. He left Hogwarts, the closest thing to home
and security he had ever known, to risk his life before dragons or Dementors or
maniacal, homicidal pixie-fairies? This
was no way to spend the rest of a promising school year.
Coming
down the world turned over
And angels
fall without you there
And I go
on as you get colder
Or are you
someone's prayer
"Alright,"
Saunders conceded. "We'll learn to
Apparate and then experiment with appearances in the morning. First, tonight, we'll get some sleep and
relaxation. These next few weeks will
not be easy."
And there's
no time left for losin'
When you
stand they fall
Mrs. Figg—er,
Miss Saunders' house was much bigger than Harry remembered it. Climbing the stairs, each student found a
heavy wooden door with their name engraved in fancy writing on a gold
plate. A small rug lay before each
door; green with a Slytherin snake coiled tightly on Draco's, crimson with a
napping Gryffindor lion for Harry, Ron's with violent tangerine marred by a
cannon ball crashing into a pair of 'C's, and solid indigo with baby blue
bubbles covering Hermione's.
Harry
pushed open his door to find Hedwig cleaning her feathers in her gilt cage on
top of his maroon bed fittings. It was
a four-poster, like his at Hogwarts, but this one was sleek and modern
looking. A matching wardrobe stood
opposite it, and a large bay window beside it bathed the room in the last of
the late evening sun. Pictures of him
and his friends and family hung next to posters of famous Quidditch players,
all waving and winking merrily. The
room was large and open, with a mirror every so once in a while and small boxes
containing every kind of surprise (everything from a real Golden Snitch to
practice with to a bag of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans). He had to admit, as he set his wand into the
drawer of his nightstand, this wasn't a bad place to have as base camp. He gave an approving sigh as he went on to
check the adjoining bathroom.
Coming down
the world turned over
And angels
fall without you there
And I go
on as you get colder
All
because I'm…
Across the
hall, Ron gave a gasp of excitement with every new glance. A new cage for Pigwidgeon complete with
soundproof spell; a box of Fizzing Whizbees; a copy of The Chudley Cannons:
A Team for the Ages on the low bookshelf; no ghoul in the attic above him;
walls papered with photos of his brothers and sister, Harry and Hermione and
him, and his Quidditch team; a pair of symmetrical hexagonal windows flanking
his bed's headboard; a cardboard cutout of a life-size Adrian Lynch stood near
his closet. This was sheer perfection! He never would have dreamed this place up in
a million years.
…All because I'm…
He entered
and surveyed the room expressionlessly. Cool metallic furniture and frames with emerald trimmings all over. His owl perched atop his desk chair, waiting
for him patiently. Lithographed
engravings of ancient spellbook illustrations settled a touch too high on the
walls, and his shoes made a little noise as he strolled across the hardwood
floors. The sun had just set, and as if
divining his thoughts, candles flickered on by themselves around the room until
he was surrounded by a thick homey glow. Nearly an entire wall of the room was a huge multi-paned window, through
which stars were just becoming visible. Alright. This place would
do. For now.
…And I'll
become…
Hermione
smiled at the fluffy violet carpet under her feet and the lush purple bed
trappings and walls around her. Crookshanks was already purring in his nap among the pillows, and she
sighed as she made for the bathroom. An
old-fashioned bathtub on claws waited, filled with water and bubbles, as did an
amethyst bathrobe and matching bath towels. She closed her eyes and sighed. Too good to be true. They would
just have to see what tomorrow would bring.
…What you
became to me.