Chapter 1: Return to Hogwarts
"Red. Bright as a ruby, and twice as pretty," so were the thoughts of the woman sitting in the tree in the yard of the small cottage. She could see over the roof, and smiled at the sight that greeted her. How long had she been sitting there, she wasn't sure, but it was the best view in the world to her. "I never thought I would see that train again."
She crossed her long legs, and flipped her dark black hair over her shoulder, and gently swung her left leg back and forth. She could see the steam from the Hogwarts Express as it pulled into the station, and pulled out a pocket watch, checking the hour. "They've arrived, and in due time as well; excellent. Must remember to compliment the driver on his superb timing."
The sudden rustle of grass below her made the woman pause and look down. Below a younger woman –not even woman, more of a girl –stood before the tree and was staring up at her and looking quite shocked. She was not even nineteen, blonde hair held back by silver barrettes, and bright blue eyes that held a look of terror. The woman smiled at her, revealing two rows of bright, white teeth. "Well, hello there…and might I ask what you are doing out here?"
"I…" the girl stammered, and the woman raised her eyebrows. "I …thought…I heard some one out here…who…who are you?"
"That is none of your concern, Miss," the woman said softly. "I must thank you for letting me rest in your tree, but now…" and she pulled out her wand, "you must forget that you ever saw me here. Don't need people getting tipped off that I'm back. At least not yet."
Before the girl could even pull out her own wand there was a bright blue flash, and she slumped to the ground in a daze. The woman jumped down from the tree, landing neatly on her feet, and strode over to the girl. She lifted her eyelids and clucked her tongue "Should have learned not to go out at night young one."
Then as softly as a summer breeze she disappeared back into the forest, the royal blue robes vanishing just as the sun finally set.
* * *
Harry found himself back in the graveyard. Once more he could smell the wet rainy air that gathered just before a storm. Only now it was colder, fog rolled over the land, like steam over a bubbling caldron; his breath, harsh and raspy, whispered out about him, smoke in the cold air. The yew tree, the same tree wood that Voldemort's wand was made from, loomed over him, a twisted hand ready to reach down and grab at him. The graves seemed larger, more menacing, and, he was sure that each one was going to open up any second and swallow him. Suddenly he heard the slightest sound of footfalls, and the swish of cloaks, and then he saw shadowy figures making their way over the yard. Large, tall figures, draped in red cloaks, masks upon their faces, so that no one could possible tell who they were: Death Eaters! They were coming for him, Harry knew this, and he started to run; but he didn't move! He couldn't move; his feet were planted to the spot as if taking root into the very ground. His pulse quickened; he had to get away, he just had to! But pull as hard as he might, it was no good.
"Come on," he silently urged his feet, trying to will them to work, "Come on! Move! Run! Do something!"
But it was no use, and the feet didn't comply. Harry looked down, there was an itchy sensation on his legs, and his mouth fell open in a silent scream. Ropes, large, thick heavy ropes (as thick as tree branches) were curling up his legs! They were coming up right from the ground, trying to hold him in place. The Death Eaters were closing in on him; pretty soon they would be on top of him, and then what? Would they kill him, was this the end? No…he couldn't think like that, he wasn't going to die, not here, not now. He had faced them before, challenged their Dark Master himself four times, and come out alive. But had his luck run out? Voldemort had gotten what he wanted from him, and now he wanted him, Harry, dead!
Ten yards…(Harry reached into his pocket for the knife that Sirius had sent him for Christmas, but it wasn't there)…seven yard…(he could hear soft whispering, and laughter –they were laughing at him)…four yards…(Harry pulled at the cords that bound him, wrenching and twisting them, trying desperately to get them off. But it seemed his fingers and hands didn't want to work)…three yard…(He reached for his wand, but then two more cords sprung up and grabbed him around the wrists, keeping him from moving his arms)…two yards…("Please, someone help," but Harry knew his cries were in vain, no one was going to help him this time, he was alone)…one yard…(His scar was throbbing with pain now, he could hardly see, the pain was so intense; and then, the crowd of Death-eaters parted, an a enormous snake slipped out from in-between their legs).
They were less then twelve feet away, and the snake slithered up to Harry. It circled around him, hissing and spitting. To the normal ear it was just a bunch of noise, but Harry, who was a parselmouth, could understand every word as clear as if the snake were talking English.
"Well, I see our guest of honor has arrived," the snake had stopped circling and a cold high laugh echoed all around. "Welcome, Harry Potter, welcome to your doom!"
Voldemort! There was no mistaking that laugh; Harry had heard that laugh once before when he was very small. It was the night Voldemort had discovered where his parents were hiding, the night that Voldemort killed them; the very laugh that Voldemort had laughed when Harry's mother, Lily Potter, had begged for mercy, only to be killed trying to save Harry from the same fate as his father. The snake shot up to be level with Harry's eyes. What he saw made him scream, the pain in his scar double and he suddenly heaved. The snake had a human head, but the rest of it was some hybrid, with long, sharp, claw like hands. The face was a ghastly white, with slits for nostrils, and scarlet red eyes; it was the face of Lord Voldemort. But, Voldemort had been restored to his normal body, why then did he then appear to look like a snake?
Voldemort smiled, "Look, my family, see the child you once thought had conquered me! This is the one that you believed had destroyed me; had left me weak, and powerless." The Death-eaters shivered collectively, no one spoke. "But now I have captured him. Look upon your great hero now; see what he is…A Boy. A Common, Mudblood boy! No more, no less…
Voldemort reached into Harry's robes and removed his wand, then pulled his own out of thin air. "And now, like all good boys…he will die…as his mother did, and, as his father before him!"
Harry saw a flash of light, brilliant, and felt an intenseness heat; he knew at once he was as good as dead, and was about to give up…when suddenly the pain stopped, not gradually, it just…halted. He dared to open his eyes, and looked up; all around him: the Death Eaters, the wind, the grass…even the sky looked motionless; and Voldemort was still as a statue with a look of horror and fury mingled into one expression.
How? Harry wondered, eyeing everything, and everyone around him. How had this…this miracle been done? His dream was in a frozen state, and the ropes binding him dropped to the ground, limp and loose. The fog had even stopped rolling, it all seemed so surreal, and yet it all felt very real all at the same moment. Again the question came up. How?
And, as if to answer that very question, he turned to face a red-cloaked Death-eater. The figure was shorter then the others, and seemed less threatening, but there was an air of danger around it so intense that Harry did not want to venture any closer. The figure held out a hand, small, and white, but with long fingers that ended in sharp nails. He could see the eyes, bright blue in color, and wondered if this Death-eater could be female.
"Who…who are you?" Harry asked tentatively, the figure laughed. It was a high laugh, but not cold, nor warm, but somehow he knew that this person was not as evil as they appeared to be.
"Would you really like to know, Harry?" the figure asked. "Could you take the shock? Or would you just faint, like your mother did the first time I showed her?"
"My…mother…" Harry paused. "What do you know about my mother?"
"More then you know, Harry. Oh so much more," said the figure. He was sure by now it was a woman speaking. She turned and started to walk away. "Go now, Harry, and remember my eyes, someday you might find them useful."
"Wait! Come back…" Harry started to shout, but then everything around him started to dissolve, and a voice was calling him back.
"Harry…Harry wake up…"
" –D'you think we should use some water?"
" –Naw, that only works in the movies."
" –Well is he breathing –If he's not breathing…"
" –He's breathing…he's just really fast asleep is all.."
Harry blinked open his eyes, he was lying on the floor, the sheets and curtains of his four-poster bed in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory were tangled up around his arms and legs. Four blurred figures were surrounding him. Two were standing up, and two leaning over. One was black (Dean Thomas, Harry figured) and the one nearest him had bright red hair (Ron Weasley, Harry's best friend).
"Harry…Harry? You all right?" asked Neville Longbottom, a short boy with dark brown hair, and slightly pudgy.
"Yeah," said Harry, hastily. "Could…could one of you give me my glasses?"
Seamus quickly reached over, grabbed the glasses that were on the table, while Ron, Dean, and Neville, helped Harry to untangle himself. Harry sat down on the edge of the bed, and noticed the others, excluding Ron, were giving him perplexed, or in Neville's case perplexed and anxious, looks.
"What happened?" Dean asked, "You were screaming, and Neville woke us up saying that you were having a fit, or some one was putting a curse on you!"
"It was a dream, honestly," Harry saw that Neville was still looking quite pale. He assumed at once that the whole incident had reminded him of what the Death-eaters had done to his parents. Frank Longbottom had been an Auror, and when Voldemort had appeared to vanish into thin air, a group of Death-eaters –Barty Crouch jr. among them –had gone to the Longbottom's house and tortured them to find the whereabouts of their dark master. This act had driven Mr. Longbottom, and his wife, insane; leaving Neville to be raised by his grandmother.
"It was only a nightmare, nothing to worry about really."
Seamus looked at Dean with a look of unbelief; Harry sighed, "Look, it was…nothing! Really…now can I go back to sleep?"
"But it's not…Nothing…when it's you Harry," Neville pointed out. "It's never…nothing. Last year you fainted in Divination and the year before that..."
Neville shuddered; he was recalling the attack of the Dementors, horrible soulless creatures that fed upon the happy memories of people, leaving them with only the sad and awful memories to keep them company. Destroying a wizards powers, and in some cases, as with a Dementor's kiss, sucking out the soul of the person leaving them as good as dead. Dementors were found at Azakaban, the wizarding prison, where they acted as jailors to the prisoners. "It's always something…something to do with You –Know –Who …"
"Would you knock it off," Ron suddenly shouted, he glared at the others. "Harry says it was just a nightmare; then it was just a nightmare. No need to get into You –Know –Who …"
The others just looked at Ron with surprise, and he went as red as his hair. "I'm just saying that…it's late, and we all need sleep."
Neville nodded, and, reluctantly, the boys got back into bed. Ron waited till he was sure that they were all back to at least a semi-state of sleep, when he whispered to Harry, "Harry, you sure you're all right?"
"Yeah," Harry replied. Why was everyone so worried about him suddenly? All that summer he had been getting letters from Hermione (Hermione Granger was Harry's other best friend), and Ron, asking if everything was good, or if he needed to talk, or if he had had any dreams. It was starting to become annoying, and what if he did have a dream about Voldemort? What could he do about it now? He couldn't go racing off after him could he? At most, all he could do was go tell Dumbledore, and leave it at that.
"Well," started Ron, trying to get the words right. "It's just that…well…you look a little pale, Harry. Like something really got you spooked."
"No, I'm fine," insisted Harry, and he could see Ron wasn't convinced. He smiled at his best friend, "Really Ron, I'm okay."
Ron Weasley nodded his head, but still looked slightly shaken. Harry supposed that he would look the same way if Ron woke up screaming and twisted all in his sheets. As he lay back to go to sleep, the dream seemed to filter away. He would have to see Professor Dumbledore in the morning, as Sirius had instructed him in his last letter:
Any dreams, or pains in your scar, go straight to Dumbledore. And no arguing about it Harry; you're safe at Hogwarts, but be careful.
-Sirius
Harry tried to remember everything that he saw: the snake transforming into Voldemort, the strange ropes that grabbed a hold of him. This wasn't the first time he had had this nightmare, and this wasn't even the worst one. He had had one that summer where he saw Cedric being killed, then his parents, then Sirius, Ron, Ginny, Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, everyone that he cared about…and then Voldemort turned his wand on Cho Chang, and hissed, "Now for your girlfriend."
Cho didn't scream, but he watched in horror as Voldemort raised his hands and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"
Cho slumped slowly to the ground, and Harry tried to wrench himself away from the Death Eaters that were holding him. He could see their faces, Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco Malfoy (who was laughing at Harry). Then Voldemort turned the wand on him, Harry, and raised it, ready to fire the killing stroke; when Harry always woke up, at the last second just before the Killing curse was preformed.
Harry wiped his forehead, cold sweat was on the palm of his hand, and he still felt shaky. The laugh of Voldemort was still ringing in his ears, but what was really bothering him was the last part of it. Who was the woman who had stopped the dream? Everything had felt so real up until that moment, and then…
"More then you'll ever know," that's what the woman in the Death Eaters robes had said…but what did she mean by that, and why did she seem to think that seeing her would be a shock to him? It all made no sense…and that was Harry's last thought before drifting back off to sleep.
* * *
Dawn light was growing slowly in the Forbidden Forest, and, in a little glen, a Ford Anglina was sitting peacefully. The soft sun shining down though the thick branches, cool breezes, whispering summers end, slowly wafted through the area. A unicorn and her young ate the dewy grass, and all seemed well in the world.
BANG! The car door flew open, and the woman that had been sitting in the tree the night before crawled out, ever graceful as she untwisted her, poor, contorted body from inside the car. She yawned and stretched, then blinked her eyes, "It's too damn early for this."
The unicorns, which were easily spooked, had taken off just seconds before, and the woman could see their fleeting figures in the early light.
"Sorry," she said to no one, and then cricked her neck, "didn't mean to scare you…" the unicorns were long gone, "Aw, confound it!"
She tossed off her shawl, and fixed her robes; dirt and dust covered the normally soft, shiny outfit, and the woman frowned upon it. "I knew I should have brought along a few others."
A rumble from her stomach made her flinch, and she rolled her eyes. "Must be breakfast." A sudden caw from over head made her look skyward as a large, black raven flew down and landed on the branch above her. "And where have you been, Mister? I thought I told you not to stray to far. Don't tell me that you were up at Hogwarts…"
The bird dropped something and then cawed. Bending down the woman picked it up; it was a clipping from the Daily Profit (the wizarding newspaper). It had to be less then a week old, not quite yellowed yet, and the piece was ripped awkwardly, as if someone had seen it, and, in anger, torn it right out of the paper:
Ministry Plagued with Mishaps
London –Rumors are circulating that the death of Cedric Diggory was non-accidental. The son of Amos Diggory, Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, was one of four competitors in last years Tri-wizard Tournament. Among those that were selected as champions were: Fleur Delacor –of Beauxbatons Academy; Victor Krum –Durmstrang Institution, and seeker for the Bulgarian Quidditch team (who had a stunning snitch catch last year at the World Cup), and Harry Potter –who most know as the boy who defeated You-know-who.
The officials at the Ministry had no comment to the rumors, which they call, "Hogs-wallow and gossip." There is no proof of any such attack on Hogwarts grounds.
"The boy had a terrible accident, and for that we are sorry, but there is no proof of murder!" says Percy Weasley, who has been asked to act as temporary Head of the Department of International Magical Corporation in light of an illness suffered by Bartemius Crouch. "Now if you'll excuse me I have many important matters to attend to."
A number of sources claim that Delacor was injured by Victor Krum on orders from his Headmaster Igor Karkaroff. (Karkaroff, last seen on Hogwarts grounds, is now missing, and has yet to be located by the authorities.) Krum is then to have attacked and killed Diggory while wounding Potter.
"He looked dazed, as if someone had put him under a curse or something," claimed one medical expert who was at the last task of the championship. "I knew something was funny about that Krum. You can't trust anyone; not now-a-days."
While theories as to why Krum attack Diggory run the gamut, most agree it was not Diggory who Krum was aiming for. Rather it was young Mr. Potter, who, as reported by corresponded Rita Skeeter, was the target of young Mr. Krum's attack. Krum, Potter, and a charming Muggle born girl known as Hermione Granger (who, like Potter, is entering her fifth year at Hogwarts School for Witches and Wizards) were reported to be in a love triangle of sorts; this has since been denied by Krum's family, and supporters.
"It is not at all true," Claims Anton Stragovitch, the head of Quidditch lessons at Durmstrang. "Viktor could not have attacked the other competitors; [Krum] is far too good a young man, to resort to such despicable tactics."
At that Mr. Stragovitch then shooed away reporters with blasts from his wand. For now, it appears that there is inconsistency with this story and the rumors that You-know-who has returned. So claims a second year Ravenclaw of Hogwarts who whished not to be identified, "Professor Dumbledore told us that Cedric was killed by You-know-who. He said that Harry Potter risked his life to get Cedric back."
Truth, fiction, or just the made up tale of a Headmaster whishing to keep the reputation of his school up; Minster Fudge did us the honor of giving us a comment on the situation, "I've known Dumbledore for sometime, and have spoken to him on the matter of how the school shall be run. We [at the Ministry] will see to it that the students have nothing to worry about. Safe guards have been set up, and we are looking into this matter."
Danny Jacobs, head of MLES (Magical Law Enforcement Squad), had this to say, "If there is a guilty party in this matter we will find them, and deal with them properly. No I can't say exactly what we are doing, but, I assure that you that I personally am looking into this matter."
Initial reports conclude that Diggory was killed by the Killing curse, one of the unforgivable curses that sent several wizards to Azkaban after the fall of You –Know –Who. Only two years ago the murder Sirius Black became the only man, ever, to escape Azkaban. Some are speculating that Black may have been behind the attack along with Karkaroff, a known Death Eater who was pardoned after testifying against Augustus Rookwood (who was part of the Department of Mysteries.) Karkaroff became head of Durmstrang three years after his pardon and has since been revered by most as a stand up Headmaster.
The women eyed the paper, and watched the images of Fudge and Jacobs try and look their most serious. Danny Jacobs was a tall, lean, man with chestnut colored hair, which was graying at the temples (the woman knew this because she had seen Jacobs several times), wearing a derby, a thick mustache, and a pair of charcoal gray eyes. He was standing next to the shorter Minster Fudge, and seemed to be eyeing everything about him with an air of suspicion.
The woman pocketed the clipping as the bird swooped down towards her. "Where did you get this clipping, Mordred? Show me."
She gently patted his head, pulled out her wand and touched his forehead with it. There was a rush of light, and then she saw a room, like a sort of cheap hotel, with a person lying in bed. Near by a fire was burning out, and a serpent with three heads was curled, like a dog, on the rug near the hearth. She was looking though a window, then the window opened ("Pushed by you no doubt, good boy.") and she could see inside more distinctly. The person in the bed was a girl of twenty-two at least, her face was shadowed as the covers were pulled up around her, but she could be no older then that. The woman felt a soaring sensation, then saw the clipping on a desk, and out the window she went.
Gently she removed her wand from the bird's head, and kissed it. "Good boy, Mordred, good boy." –She gave him a treat, then he hopped up on her shoulder as she pulled her hair into a braid –"Well, looks like a good time to have breakfast. I'm going to have to think about this for a while…and then let's go down and visit the school, I know there will be some students that will want to meet me, don't you think."
Mordred cawed again and flew off a head of her, as the woman got into the car and started driving it down towards the village of Hogesmeade, the thought of warm pumpkin pancakes on her mind.
* * *
The picturesque town of Hogsmeade sat just outside the boarder of the school, and just south of the Forbidden Forest. A quite little shire with shops of every kind, quaint cottages, and lovely floral arrangements that lined the streets and sidewalks; on the border was the beginnings of the mountains that set off into the darker reaches of the lands. Here the woman parked the car, and looked around carefully. Then she pulled out a small vile, filled with a gray-green liquid, from the pocket of her robe, took a deep swig, and sputtered. While not as bad as a polyjuice potion, the contents in the vile still made the woman gag. The potion had an instant effect, her skin pigment grew a darker olive shade, and her eyes dulled in color, but did not change from their blue. She smiled at herself, then pulled out another vile, this one with a clear liquid but with a slight bluish tinge to it. Once more she drank down the concoction, only this time she bent double over and began to breathe heavily. Pain wracked down her back and through her bones, and her head tingled. When she finally felt well enough to look up at the rearview mirror, she could see that her black hair was gone, and in place was oaken brown mane, with blond streaks running hither and yon all over. She quickly pulled it back into a loose twist, and then felt her stomach lurch, and became sick in the car.
That was the last straw for the Angelina, for with a great heave, it tipped her out from inside, and blasted her trunk and case from its trunk. Then with a snort from its exhaust the car took off back into the woods. The woman stood up, and Mordred cawed after it with some anger. She shook her head, and quickly fixed her cloak, then made her way down to the village.
"Hasn't changed a bit," she murmured as she pasted the numerous shops, including Zonko's Joke shop, and headed straight for the Three Broomsticks, the best pub in the whole of Hogesmeade. Mordred landed on the windowsill and the woman patted him on the head. "Go on, off with you now. They may remember you as well…head up to the Owlery, I'm sure they have some left over food there."
Mordred cawed and took to the sky again, and then the woman took a deep breath and went into the pub. The bright sunlight streamed in though the window, and people were ordering the morning specials from the waiters that came over. The woman took a seat near the bar, the best place if you want to listen and not be seen as she had learned, and looked over the menu.
" –Coulda' sworn she was hexed," said a lean wizard sitting by the bar talking to Madame Rosemerta the owner of the Three Broomsticks. "All pale like…never seen anything like it…"
"But Donna is all right isn't she, Hank?" said the small, freckled faced witch who sat next to Hank. "I mean…she's not…you know…dead…is she?"
"Naw, just stunned," replied Hank, and the woman quickly covered her face. "Said something was up in the tree and it attacked her."
"Dose she know what it was that attacked her?" asked Rosmerta, the lovely owner of the Three Broomsticks handed him a tankard, and Hank took a long deep swig. "Surely she had to have seen something Hank; Donna wouldn't go making things up like that…would she?
"Not at all, said it was too dark," then he lowered his voice and came closer, "But she did mention a pair of really weird looking eyes."
The freckled faced witch went pale, and uttered a small cry. "You…you don't think it was one of them…Vampires? Do you Hank?"
Hank shook his head, and the woman scowled deeply. "No, this wasn't a Vampire, woulda drunk from her if it was." –He lowered his voice, as if trying to conceal the information, but there were only a handful of people in the pub –"But I think it was one of them, Death Eaters. You know there's been a whole lota' rumors about You –Know –Who, goin' round since that poor, Diggory boy was killed last year. Some think he's come back, and it's going to get worse."
At this the freckled witch let out a gasp, and dropped her cup of milk. Rosmerta banished the spill away with her wand, and then caught a glimpse of the woman who was sitting at the table, and smiled, "Good Morning, Miss. Is there anything you want?"
The woman gave a smile, "Ah…how are your pumpkin pancakes?"
"None, better," Hank said suddenly. "If there's a better maker of pumpkin pancakes then Madame Rosmerta, I'll eat my hat, I will."
"Now, Hank, flattery won't get you out of paying for your breakfast you know," Rosmerta laughed, then turned to the woman. "Anything you want with that dear?"
"Cup of hot chocolate will be nice, and some butterscotch syrup." The woman replied, and gave a quick glance at her watch. The students would be up and heading for the Great Hall by now, and she wondered if she was at all ready to face them. After all, this was the first time she had set foot on Hogwarts grounds, and thing certainly had to have change in the past thirteen years. Rosmerta returned with the woman's pancakes, and she thanked her, "By the way, if you'll pardon the inquiry Madame Rosmerta, but what's this talk about Vampires, and Death Eaters?"
"Oh, terrible business that," Rosmerta told her. "Hank's the young girl's cousin. He found her this morning, stunned, right in her own back yard. There have been whispers of stuff going on in the forest, rumors and gossip mainly. Hagrid, Hogwarts gamekeeper, was just in here two days ago saying that a group of Vampires have taken residence in the forest…but then there's talk of Death Eaters back on the march. Tabitha was in London just last week, and some strange things have been going on in Knockturn Alley."
"Really," the woman said with amazement, and turned to the freckled faced witch. "What sorts of things?"
Tabitha flushed slightly, "Well, it's not that big a deal, my dear. It's –well –you see when I went down to Diagon Alley, my cousin Hera owns a Puff'em's Pastry Shoppe you see, and while I was visiting her this group of children came in, not much older then fifteen I'd say, three of them. Well they sat down and were talking about how the boy with the black hair had been trying to follow this woman down Knockturn –and I turned and I said to the boy- I said, 'Silly thing for you to do. There's dangerous sorts down there, don't you know that.' And his red headed friend says to me, 'But the woman went down there. We weren't trying to get into trouble.' Well I just huffed at this and left. Kids don't know how to behave now days. ("Oh quite," the woman said.)
"Well I went down the way, and you won't believe what I saw. There right in front of the entrance to Knockturn Alley was the strangest thing. A group of warlocks all converged around this one girl, and she was holding something in her hand. Well I got closer to see what it was, and that's when one of them whirled around on me and aimed a jinx at me. Well I wasn't about to stay around to see what was happening after that, I went straight for the Leaky Caldron, and took some Floo powder out of there. I tell you Knockturn Alley's been buzzing since that poor boy died last June. I just hope that the rumors aren't true."
"And these rumors would be…" the woman hastily ate her pancakes.
Tabitha looked scandalized, as if someone hadn't heard the stories, "You mean you haven't heard the news that, You –Know –Who made an attack on Harry Potter, and that You –Know –Who's alive?"
The woman smiled at Tabitha, saying sweetly, "Well if you say so. How could I doubt your word, Ms Tabitha?" Then went right on eating, all the while thinking about what the witch and Rosmerta had said, and a sour feeling settled in the bottom of her insides.