Chapter 3: Darkness on the
Horizon
"A balance of good and bad is the doorway to destiny."
A Japanese Proverb
Here's some links to some info to the story for alabaster marble shimmered under the moonlight. It shone forth from among the dark, grasping branches and was pleasant to her sight. It was an otherworldly gateway among earthbound roots. Nearby was a cave adorned in leaves that were made pale by the blue light. The darkness from within the cave crept forth like a sly creature hunting its prey. It was held in check by the light reflecting off the haze of the cold marble. A glove clinging to skeleton thin fingers darted forward into her view to brush away clinging spider webs and stray leaves. In Memory of Harry James Potter the Boy Who Lived to be the Man Who Saved Us All
The hand traced the etched words and then retracted as if burned, and the figure stood in the swirling darkness. Huge partly because of the robes and the height of the figure, it cast a shadow over the monument, erasing the words from sight. The figure turned slightly. It knew it was being watched. Please Don't Turn Around! The robes full of midnight purple swirls and runes poured over the person's body onto the sinking ground that also held shapes.
Whispers were all around in the trees, in the shadows, and in her mind. Her skin prickled in her tension. Something was tangible in this place. What is it? The ground seemed to be humming, shaking her frame and the air around her. Her breath misted into shapes, even words and then vanished in the thick air.
Words hung from the trees, little pieces of parchment on strings in a crude mockery of the leaves. Thurisaz. Reversed Ansuz .Reversed Kenaz. Reversed Tiwaz.
On the other side of the spectrum- Wunjo. Kenaz. Tiwaz. Algiz. Sowilo.Mannaz. Tying them all together was Perthro, written in gold script. Below this one was a blank rune, swirling in the wind. Choose...
The figure stepped away from the blackened monument, and the words that had been changed blazed up at her. In Memory of Elizabeth Faye Potter the Girl Who Lived to be The Woman to Curse Us All
The figure turned around to face her; a hush fell from the trees. The face was darkened, unknowable. The pieces of white paper remained frozen in time except for the blank paper that continued to move in sequence with the rasping breath of the hooded mystery. A gloved hand removed the hood. The thrill of horror she felt now overshadowed any she had ever felt before. She opened her mouth with a scream struggling to come out. I know...
Elizabeth snapped her eyes open, throwing off her covers. Her body was drenched in sweat, not an uncommon state. However, she had never had this dream before. Biting her lips, she looked around, rapidly rubbing away the goose bumps on her arms. She thanked the flickering lamps that warmed the white room. She was momentarily confused about the moving curtains around her. Then the events from the last few hours filtered through her confusion.
It was a grating process that was almost painful in its languid movement. She crossed her knees and nervously picked at the stray threads from the covers. She was thankful she hadn't yelled out and caused a disturbance. Dreamless sleep, feh! She realized her dream was flowing away from her, slipping out of her grip. She grasped her face with her cold hands and struggled to remember. For the most part, it had already fled into her subconscious. Burned into her closed eyelids was the golden word perthro. That was the only thing she remembered except for a flash of the most blinding, pure white. Though that may be because of the whiteness of the room she was currently occupying. She didn't know how she knew that word perthro. She knew she had seen it somewhere before. The memory was locked tightly from her, a far away secret.
I wish I had asked Dumbledore why I can't remember my family or that night. Why didn't I ask?
She thought she remembered her mother and father. They were images of ghosts wrapped in her memories that wandered in and out of sight.
Didn't I have a brother though? What about him? She knew she had been too flustered to ask the correct questions when she had had the opportunity. She then became angry at herself and sighed. A fragrant smell reached her that aroused her from her mental ranting, and she looked out of the corner of eyes.
She didn't like the motions of the curtains around her. Hands on the curtains. She ripped apart the curtains as silk caught on her chewed-on nails. Nothing there. She got up cautiously from the bed with her feet comforted by the warmed floor from a spell she suspected. Tiptoeing towards the doors, she grasped the handles and pushed on the doors. It refused to yield to her. She investigated the rest of the room and occasionally tripped on her overlarge pajamas. Ornate wooden cabinets were full of all sorts of what she assumed where potions. Skelegrow. Lypasis of Sleep. Madam Nostrum's All Instant Boil Relief. Fang Shrinkage.
She went to the windows and saw that the new day was rearing its head out from behind the trees. Looking down on the vast grounds, she saw a greenhouse with a ceiling covered in moving greenery. Little balls of blue and pink zoomed around the glass which shimmered like liquid in the morning glow. A wooden hut mounted on stones stood guard by the entrance of the forest amassed with wisps of haze. It had a fence where a few shadows were slinking about out of sight. She thought she saw an odd assortment of limbs like jagged wings cutting through the darkness.
Shaking her head, she decided to go back to bed and retrieved the tangled covers from behind the posts of the bed. Straightening the bed the best she could, she positioned herself and traced the figures on the headboard. The figures depicted a golden bird rising from the ashes of burning fire with rays of light and smoke following its tail. She fell asleep with her fingertips brushing the raised up feathers of the phoenix. She was awoken hours later by a hand shaking her shoulder lightly. She let a whine slip through her dry lips and tightened her grip on her pillow.
"Come on, Lizzy. Don't you want some breakfast?" Tonks inquired gently.
In response to Tonks's voice above her, she turned around and was blinded by a combination of her own tangled red hair and Tonks's violet tresses. She blinked sluggishly as her eyelashes were caught by her strains of red. The sunlight turned the room bright and her hair golden. She imagined her head probably looked like it was on fire. Fun. She sat up in the bunched up covers with her feet sticking out and looked up at Tonks whose hair was rapidly changing. Woah. Am I still asleep?
Tonks giggled at her expression. She said slyly, "I am Metamorphmagus. I like to be spontaneous sometimes. It's a new day ahead and all with old friends. How do you like my look?" Her hair was blond and long now, and she was taller. She had retained her violet eyes.
"You look great," Elizabeth replied sincerely. "How did you learn to do that?" She was a little bit envious of Tonks's skill.
"Sorry, Liz. I was born with this skill. It makes up for me tripping over myself," Tonks explained with a swish of her golden locks.
Elizabeth got up and met her image in a mirror across from her. Ewww. Her hair darted every which way and her clothes hung off of her. I look like a bum. I'm going to scare everyone and ruin breakfast.
Tonks understood her grimace and said quickly, "Your grandmother brought you some of your mother's old clothes. I think they'll fit you. I thought you'd like to meet our friends at Hogsmeade. It'll make a great atmosphere. You'll love it. You'll be seeing the Great Hall quite often anyway."
Tonks handed her some clothing and left to let her change. Elizabeth spread the clothes out on the bed and stepped back to examine them. A green shirt which dipped down with long sleeves that belled out intertwined with thread. It reminded her of the Renaissance. Thank goodness it has long sleeves. Then there was a black shirt with green leaves on the side.
What caught her eye was a golden necklace among the garments. Picking the fragile chain up gently, she realized it was a phoenix locket. She opened it trembling, and she saw the eyes of her parents gazing up at her. To Gin. Thanks for being by my side. Our love will last forever. We'll rise together. Love, Harry. The words began to blur. Elizabeth hastily wiped the tears pooling in her eyes. She felt light scratches on the back of the necklace and flipped it over. To Lily. Love James.
She stood in the room as time flew by unnoticed. She held the necklace reverently in the middle of her cupped palms. It seems so fragile. She went to the mirror and did the clasp of the necklace. Her green eyes glistened back at her as she touched the necklace lying in the indention of her neck. I'll never take it off.
The mirror, rudely ruining the moment, squawked at her, "Dear, do hurry and get dressed. And do something about your hair. It's simply in tangles!"
A startled Elizabeth jumped back and sprang into action. She hastily discarded her pajamas and changed, jumping on one leg. She tied the boots (which just didn't seem to want to tie) that came along with the outfit. She searched the drawers for a brush or comb or anything.
The mirror hissed at her, "In the drawer, child. In the drawer!"
Casting a dark look at the condescending mirror, she drew out a comb and tried to ease out the hair tangled by wind and sleep. She spied a hair tie lying hidden on the bed and tied up her hair. That's much better. Wiping her sweaty palms on the bed sheets, she opened the unbarred door and stepped into the hall.
Tonks accosted her, cooing about how much she reminded her of Lily Potter. Then she led her down the halls and into the main hall. No candles were floating this morning and the armor remained blessedly inanimate. The grand doors with took up half the wall opened, and the scent of summer entered the castle that warmed the floors and ancient tapestries. Tonks and Elizabeth hurried down the steps, Elizabeth taking two at a time. She looked around excitedly, noting the archways and gargoyles lining them. She longed to explore and discover what was down those worn corridors, but she restrained herself.
Then she saw a looming figure ambling toward them out of the shadows. The figure's face was covered in a thick beard, but Elizabeth was really too busy noting how tall this guy was. Everything was dwarfed around him and a hunched dog that made up two of her trailed along behind him. He carried a cross bow in his hairy boulder of a hand. Oh My God. She tried to conceal herself behind Tonks as swiftly as possible, but her attempts were futile.
Tonks beamed at the giant, waving him over with a yell, "Oi, Hagrid. Course, you're coming to Hogsmeade with us! Put away that muggle thing-a-ma- gig and hurry up!"
The man reached them in two steps and haphazardly threw the crossbow to the side. Elizabeth followed its progress with her eyes and let them remain on it, lying threateningly among the blades of grass. She almost fell down as a huge hand slapped her on the back.
"Merlin's beard!" the giant bellowed. "This is her, then? O'course, yeh are. Rubeus Hagrid, pleased to meet yeh."
Hagrid seized her hand and shook it vigorously, lifting her off the ground in the process. Judging by Tonks's open face, Elizabeth realized that the intimidating man meant them no harm and was in fact friendly. Very Friendly!
"Er, yeah, I'm her, I mean-I'm Elizabeth," she managed to choke out. She hazarded a guess that that's what he meant. The ruddy man beamed down at her, his eyes crinkling behind his beard.
"Yer the spittin' image of little Lily. I 'member her scampering around. Heh. Off to meet the others?" Hagrid directed his attention to Tonks who responded with an affirmative.
"Wouldn't be at the Three Broomsticks, would it?" Hagrid's restrained voice didn't hide his apparent excitement.
"That it is, Hagrid! I know what you're thinking," said Tonks slyly as she winking at him mischievously.
Hagrid stuttered, "That's not it at all, 'onestly. Olympe would have a ruddy fit, she 'ould. 'Ave to be a 'ponsible parent, yeh know. Yep. I 'ust became a dad."
"Oh, congratulations!" Elizabeth replied politely.
Hagrid boasted loudly, "Just like yer dad, yeh are! Little Gred would love fer yer to visit 'em. The 'ittle tyke! Grawp plays with 'em alot, but its 'ust not the same, yeh know."
Elizabeth wondered just how little this tyke was, judging by the size of his father. She agreed though, and Hagrid was alight with happiness. The strange trio started down the path with Elizabeth having to jog to keep up with the adults. They talked among themselves about what Elizabeth assumed was current events in the wizarding world. Hagrid let something slip about Death Eaters (Elizabeth shivered at the name), but Tonks silenced him with a look.
He hastily changed the subject, "Eh, Elizabeth. Yeh know I'm a teacher here? I 'ow teach me class to first years and 'econd years. Care of Magical Creatures! Dumbledore decided me class was too 'mportant not be 'aught earlier on."
"I'll look forward to it," she said sincerely. What kind of creatures could this Hagrid cook up to show them? Hagrid began to talk rapidly in his excitement. Elizabeth could harldy under stand him.
He sputtered out, "I was "hinkin about startin' off with some griffins. Friendly yeh know. 'Airly interesting, 'ight?" Hagrid looked at her for approval.
"Um, sounds like it," said Elizabeth with some hesitation. Griffins?
They reached massive iron gates. Tonks crossed to a gargoyle and whispered something in its pointy ear. It gave a squeak, and the gates swung open. Beyond it was a village that looked like something out of Dr. Seuss. It was quaint and warm and had all sorts of scents welcome them. Elizabeth let out a squeal of excitement despite herself that made her companions chuckle. This is bloody amazing! She began to lead the way practically running through the summer breeze, causing her hair coming undone. As she stopped to wait for the huffing adults, she looked around at the village. To her right was a pink shoppe with the words written in hearts Madam Puddifoot's and a door with a quaint little bell on top. Graffiti littered the ground by the door. She squinted; she thought she saw a darting naked cupid inside. No, no...don't be silly. That's a bit too rich.
Tonks sighed whimsically behind her, "Ah, Madam Puddifoots. That brings back fond memories."
Elizabeth began to walk further in the village. She wasn't alone. A maze of multicolored cloaks and chatter greeted her as they traveled to and fro from shop to shop with bells ringing continuously. She had reached the main street. Two men debated something heavily in front of Dervish and Bangs; one man waved a broomstick with a broken tail haughtily in the other's ruddy face. Laughter reached her ears, and she turned to find a group of youth in front of Zonko's. That's some name. Sparks and crackles came from inside the clustered group of cloaks. A chicken sped out from between the teenagers' legs, flapping its wings and clucking madly. Its escape was hindered by a dark blue cloak dragging behind it. It was pursued by a roguish blond guy who looked rather flustered. Sort of handsome!
"Charles, I was just kidding around, mate! Come back!" He launched himself through the air and grabbed Charles the Chicken.
Elizabeth hurried past the whirl of feathers and yelps. Tonks pointed out Honeydukes and promised to take Elizabeth by later on. They finally reached their destination, slightly worn out. On a hill overlooking the village was a leaning shack with boarded up windows. An overgrown garden gave warning to any foolhardy person. Abandon all hope ye who enter here. She paused outside the wooden, old-time looking Three Broomsticks. Upbeat voices resounded from inside and the clanking of glasses.
Tonks placed a hand on her shoulder. "We rented out the place for an hour or two. Madam Rosmerta was happy to do it. She insisted that drinks be on the house. It will just be us and close friends."
Elizabeth gulped and nodded quickly, fingers unconsciously traveling up to clutch her necklace. The feeling of the wings of the phoenix gave her some comfort. She fidgeted and checked her hair while smoothing down her clothes. Hagrid came up from behind, looking anxious to get in and get down to business. Elizabeth took a deep breath and opened the door.
A large company waited around a wooden table with drinks in hand. They grew silent and looked up expectantly, collectively holding their breaths. A gray haired woman in pink heels peered around the bar curiously and looked Elizabeth up and down. The room seemed very crowded due to the mirror on the wall reflecting the crowd two-fold. Elizabeth met their gazes with massive butterflies in her stomach. She felt a nudge in the small of her back, and she ventured in further. The majority were an assortment of red- heads in all different shades. A gray-haired man, thick-haired brunette, a brunette freckled kid about her age, a breathtaking blond woman, and a small black woman contrasted strongly against their companions.
A sniffle rose broke the silence, and Elizabeth blinked. A short woman with white hair threatening to wash away the red stood up shakily. It seemed like Elizabeth blinked again, and then she was engulfed in a huge hug, feeling her mother's shirt getting damp from the tears of her grandmother. A balding man attempted to pry her arms apart.
"Molly, dear, don't startle the poor girl. There, there," murmured the faded man who Elizabeth assumed was her grandfather.
Mrs. Weasley, weeping openly, released her bear hug and contented herself by holding Elizabeth's hands tightly.
"I'm sorry, dear, I'm so emotional today," Mrs. Weasley sobbed. "It's been so long since I've held you in my arms. Just look at you. You're all grown- up. I'm so sorry I wasn't there to be a proper grandmother to you."
Elizabeth was at a lost for words. She wished she could say something reassuring that could soothe the older woman, but she found her mind had been a blank slate. It seemed she was trying to cross of river of sorrow. Her only response was her own tears.
"Oy, isn't this supposed to be a cheerful occasion? Cut the waterworks before we all drown, and sit down, stay awhile," said a freckled man who emphasized his cheerful words by patting the seat next to him encouragingly.
Molly led Elizabeth to the chair and returned to her own as she continued staring at Elizabeth with ineffable joy. There was a brief moment of confusion as room was made for Hagrid. Madam Rosmerta floated over with a whole round of drinks. She placed a butterbeer dramatically in front of Elizabeth. Elizabeth was thankful for something to keep her hands busy.
"I think introductions are in order," announced the same vastly freckled and burly man. "I'm Fred, and this is Angelina, my wife. And that's my brother, George. He's my twin. You might have noticed." George nodded and gave her a cheerful wave.
Fred continued to introduce everyone as an ice-breaker, "That lanky fellow over there is my little brother, Ronald. ("Don't fidget so, Ron.") That's Hermione, married to said brother, and she's going to be your professor for this year. Exciting, eh? ("Lucky us," the freckled kid commented). That's Michael, their little or not so little bundle of joy whose currently sinking under the table. ("Michael, straighten up.") That's me older bro, Bill, treasurer-hunter extraordinare and all-around good-guy. (My other older brother, Charlie all-around good guy number two, couldn't come today. Fighting with dragons, he is. He's coming tomorrow.") The lovely Madam Fleur who is as hard as it is too believe spouse to all-around good guy. That there is the master of Defense Against the Dark Arts a.k.a Remus Lupin. He's also a professor this year. You're getting some connections here, Elizabeth. You're never too young for that, eh? That's my dear dad, Arthur. I guess you can call him gramps. And then the matriarch of the Weasley Clan, Molly Weasley, (Man, mum, it's awkward calling you Molly. I need to cleanse my mouth now.). Well, that's the introductions bit. Any comments, questions, or protests?"
Fred was interrupted by Hermione, "How are you, Elizabeth? I hear you had a hard journey here. This must be a shock for you. I know it was for me. I came from a muggle family."
Michael piped up excitedly, "Yeah, I heard you flew a muggle bed around buzzing some muggles. That's bloody brilliant! Can you teach me?" He got a jab in the side from his mother with a sharp hiss of hush.
"That was quite an impressive display of magic," said Professor Lupin.
The worn man smiled pleasantly at Elizabeth. She noticed dark circles hung under his glazed, amber eyes. He looked older than anyone else at the table, including Arthur Weasley. Little flecks of brown peered through the mass of gray hair that hung around his face. He still managed to study her intently with a look of recognition though she was sure she had never seen him before in her life. His presence brought forth the image of mystery as well as tragedy.
"Of course, she gets it from the Weasley side. That was some classic Weasley action, that was," Fred stated, gesturing towards all the red-heads present at the table.
"You remind me so much of my Ginny," Mrs. Weasley whispered in a glazed voice. "Those clothes are perfect for you. And I see you've found the necklace. I thought you'd like it."
Everyone turned at once to observe the necklace, and Elizabeth smiled timidly.
"I love it. Thank you. I won't take it off again," she said with her voice overflowing with unfamiliar emotion. She was honestly surprised at herself. Her experience in the muggle world had taught her that displaying one's emotions so openly was a weakness.
Mrs. Weasley's eyes watered up instantily, and Mr. Weasley patted her arm comfortingly.
Fred took a great sip of Butterbeer and winked at her.
He asked, "How do you like Hogsmeade? Though my flavor is Diagon Alley. I plan to have you see it before your term starts, you know. George and I own a joke shop, Weasley Wizard Wheezes! You deserve a first-hand tour."
Michael perked up when he heard this last bit.
Ron, upon noting his son, said, "Liz, me and Hermione planned to take Michael tomorrow to get his wand. Love for you to come with us. Everyone knows that getting your wand is the best part of being a wizard."
"Nah, it's the Quidditch, Ron!" George exclaimed confidently as he whacked his younger brother on the back of the head. "I bet Liz here is a natural at flying."
"I'd say," Tonks laughed. "She handled flying like a pro. She should have been born with wings."
Elizabeth went to bed that night with the promise of Diagon Alley echoing in her mind. My own wand! Imagine what I could do with my very own wand!! She touched the phoenix lightly, looking up at the lion carved above her bed. She had the whole Gryffindor dormitories to herself. Although she initially didn't care for the rooms adorned with Red, she grew to love this shade. It was warm and reminded her of her new found family. She sank into the golden covered bed with a glow on her face. Candles rotated slowly in the air as they floated around her bed. She became sleepy just watching them continue their silent dance.
Tonks had understood her loathing of the dark.
"I don't like the dark either. That digs up memories I'm not too fond of," Tonks said gravely, not willing to go into detail on the matter.
Elizabeth gave no thought to the mysterious boy with the flashing eyes. It was like it never had happened but remained with her, affecting her in ways she would not come to know until later. It was a bad taste she couldn't shake. Yet her family's joy and offer of companionship washed away the emotional upheaval left from yesterday. I have a family who cares about me.
Warmth fell over her in waves. As her eyes drifted to sleep, she wasn't haunted by red eyes or cold hands. She woke up the next morning chill-free. No nightmares had scarred her with their claws, and she had never had a better morning. She got dressed in a record amount of time. She tied up her hair as she did yesterday and bounced down the stairs. Tonks was waiting for her in the common room with her usual violet look.
Tonks answered Elizabeth's questioning eyes, "This just suits me best. You look perky this morning, Liz. Good nights sleep, I reckon."
"Yeah, I slept like a rock."
"Good to hear. Hermione insists that you come to their house first for breakfast. Though I'd be careful if I were you. Hermione's the most brilliant witch I have ever met, but she isn't exactly a whiz in the kitchen. You'll be going by Floo Powder. You'll have a better time with it than Portkeys," Tonks said wisely.
I certainly hope so.
Tonks used her wand to start a good crackling fire in the hearth and then poured in a sparkling powder from a small bag. Elizabeth jumped back as the fire roared up, turning a mixture of purple and blue.
"Jump on in, Liz," Tonks gestured towards the blue fire.
"Jump...into the fire?" sputtered Elizabeth. Surely she hadn't heard Tonks correctly.
"Don't worry. It's completely fool proof, I promise. Travel by it all the time. Just keep up hands close by your sides. Oh, and shut your eyes. There's tons of soot up in there. Do that, and you'll be as right as rain! Just say clearly Weasley-Granger residence, right oh!" Tonks winked at her reassuringly.
Elizabeth did not want Tonks to think that she didn't trust her. Gritting her teeth and closing her eyes tightly, she stepped into the fire and spoke as clearly as possible although the soot bothered her nose immensely. Despite the warnings, her eyes flew open as she started to spin within the flames. Tonks's violet weaved in and out of her sight until it was just a blur.
Nausea attacked her instantly, and she closed her eyes. She felt winds roar by her, rustling her clothes. Her necklace kept hitting her in the mouth. There goes my hair again and the tie... She cracked open her eyes through her hair and saw fireplaces zooming by her. Faces flashed in and out of the hearths; someone thought to give her a cheery wave. She burst through the fireplace as soot flew in all directions and showered the inhabitants of the household.
Michael stifled a laugh at the sight of an extremely sooty Elizabeth and Hermione. Ron peered over the top of the paper he was reading with amusement. Isn't there a tidier way to travel in the wizarding world? Bugger, my outfit... Hermione helped her to her feet and with a quick wave of her wand ("Scourify"), not a trace of the soot remained. Elizabeth fed off each display of magic and desired more; it was addictive. I can't wait for my wand!
It was by far the best house Elizabeth had ever been in. She suspected it stood on magic alone. Clocks ticked from every direction while gold sparks hung in the air. It was built from beautiful, rich wood that gave the home off a pleasant fragrance. Dishes clanked in the sink as they dutifully washed themselves.
As soon as an unsuspecting Hermione turned her back, Ron raised his wand from under his shirt cuffs, and the food on the plate she had served them disappeared. Michael raised his finger to his lips and gave Elizabeth a pointed look. Hermione gasped in delight; everyone always loved her dishes. They finished their breakfast so quickly.
Breakfast was a quick affair, and the group used Floo Powder one more time. After being thoroughly Scourified, Michael and Elizabeth wandered through the crowds. Michael bombarded her with questions. She never had so much positive attention before. This too was addicting.
"When's you're birthday, El?" Michael asked in a friendly tone as if he had known her his whole life.
"August 4," answered a shy Elizabeth as she fiddled nervously with the loose threads on her robes.
"Mine's April 11. What's the muggle world like? We visit my muggle grandparents sometimes, but it's really not the same as living there."
"I kind of didn't have a good view of it while I was there. It's probably full of nice people. I dunno..." Elizabeth couldn't find a single could thing to say about the muggle world. She was relieved when Michael shot out another row of questions.
"Looking forward to Uncle Fred's and George's joke shop?" he said in a loud voice that carried far and wide, making heads swivel in their direction. "I heard it's wicked! What house do you think you'll be in?"
"Um..house?" That sounded familiar.
"Yeah, Hogwart's house," Michael answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Oh yeah!" Elizabeth hurried to save face. "I'm staying in the Gryffindor common room at Hogwarts!"
"Lucky you!" he exclaimed in envy. "Is it nice?"
"I bet it's the nicest common room in the whole place," Elizabeth gushed with confidence.
"Man, I hope I'm in Gryffindor. You know that whole family is," Michael informed her. "You're dad was in Gryffindor too. I'd never come home again if I put in Slytherin or Hufflepuff!"
Elizabeth was taken back by the harshness of his declaration. Isn't that a bit prejudiced? She commented lightly, "I'm sure your parents will be proud either way. I am just glad to be going to Hogwarts."
Michael shrugged and said gruffly, "That's true. But there wasn't a witch or wizard that went bad that wasn't in Slytherin. I've got hold up the family standard here. Anyway Mums got pregnant..."
"Really, I can't tell," she responded in surprise and quirked up one eyebrow that quickly blended in with her hair.
The same Hermione looked lean and trim. She was practically glowing at old acquaintances that happened to pass them by. To be sure, she didn't act at all like a nervous, soon-to-be mother.
"I've just found out. I have to be a role model for my little brother. Now I really have to be in Gryffindor," Michael stated with a tone of finality.
"What does your dad do?" asked a curious Potter. I'm interested in what I can do in this world.
Michael swelled up in pride. Elizabeth quickly realized that this was the question he had been waiting for her to ask.
He answered her in an even louder voice, "He's an Auror. Catches all the bad wizards he does. He caught Malfoy's cousin in with the Death Eaters a few weeks ago. Talk about a bad bunch. Malfoy claims he has nothing to do with them. Yeah right! But Dad showed them."
Michael beamed with pride while he spoke, and his blue eyes sparkled. Elizabeth knew he would be in Gryffindor. He was too bold to go anywhere else. Every move he made resounded with confidence and seemed to affect everyone around him. She admired him. But when he mentioned Houses, she grew nervous. What if I'm not in Gryffindor? What will they think? Harry Potter's daughter..a Slytherin! It might just make the Wizarding News. She decided to change the subject. Something had been bothering her since her trip to Hogsmeade.
"Hey, Michael, what are Death Eaters?" Elizabeth asked with determination. She was going to find out one way or another.
"Oh, they're what's left of Voldemort's little group." His tone was thick in tangible disgust and accompanied by a curled lip. "Though it's really not that little. They're still about causing trouble, messing with the minds of muggles, and spreading general chaos. Yech. But we're catching the rest of them. You'd think for Slytherins they'd be more-crafty like."
Now I have to be in Gryffindor. What pressure...Her chest felt burdened again. She had assumed her family wouldn't care what house she was in judging by their attitude. Now she wasn't sure at all. Would Michael talk to me again if I was in another house?
Hermione's voice carried back to the pair. "Michael, Elizabeth, do hurry. We have a lot to do. Stick to the schedule, please. It should be speaking and being more helpful than that. I'm positive I cast the right charm."
Sensing the oncoming tirade, Michael quickly interrupted, "Oh, they're fine, Mum. No worries."
He had stuffed the schedules tightly in his pocket to muffle the annoying voice. It was really quite a horrible, little voice. Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions loomed in front of them. Elizabeth walked in first, followed by Michael who was dragging his feet. The stout, gray haired woman with spectacles floated around them, bringing robes with dust flying everywhere. Even Hermione's seemingly endless patience was tried. Her smile grew more forced with every piece of garment that hit the floor.
The measuring tape flew buzzing around like an insect, and one had to be very still to avoid having a nasty paper cut. She met some of her future classmates through the ordeal. Josephine Finch-Fletchley seemed like a very nice but a bit on the shy side. She too hoped for Gryffindor although her father was formerly a Hufflepuff. She also was very concerned about her classes especially Care of Magical Creatures. Elizabeth tried to reassure her by mentioning the griffins; Michael was exited, but Josephine looked less than thrilled.
Elizabeth also met the Finnigan girl whose first name was Sandy, and it was a name Elizabeth wouldn't forget as it fit her well. She had more freckles than Michael could ever dream of having. Her brown eyes and hair also made her name memorable. Elizabeth loved her smile; she was like Michael in that respect. She whistled the funniest songs through the gaps she had in her teeth that provided entertainment for her peers. She was so lively, making Madam Malkin a nervous wreck. The madam's hair had fallen from its bun which hung by her face in tatters. She hunched about darkly, muttering about how she was too old for this job and eying the children. Elizabeth thought for one moment that madam, fed up with the chatter, would chew off the mole on the side of her mouth and spit it at them.
Madam Malkin was left leaning against the desk in relief as group of early shoppers left the store. Elizabeth enjoyed listening to the memories shared between Hermione and Sandy's dad. Apparently Gryffindor was the most exciting house of the lot. Certainly the Gryffindors had spirit. More than anything, Elizabeth wanted to be with her new friends when she got to Hogwarts. She didn't know what she would do if they were separated.
Michael wouldn't hear of visiting Flourish and Blotts before getting his wand. It was some tense moment as mother faced off against son. Then, Michael insisted they go to lunch afterwards.
Hermione appeared to be jolted and stopped in mid-stride. "Michael, you just ate!" she hissed, reminding Elizabeth of an irate cat.
Uncle Ron had wandered off somewhere along the way. Hermione took note off that, and Elizabeth realized he might not have to use his wand to vanish his food tonight. Most likely, he won't get any at all. Michael burst through Ollivanders like a man on a mission. Elizabeth was on his heels and bumped into him as he stopped suddenly.
The strangest man she had ever seen sat at the front of the store as if he was expecting them specifically. He was paler than parchment and looked as old as some too. His eyes were gleaming with silver. He looked blind at first but you knew distinctly that he could see you. He offered them a strange smile with those tortoise lips which Michael tried to return but failed.
Hermione huffed up behind them, clutching her chest slightly.
"Goodness me, the both of you are so hyper. Oh, hello Mr. Ollivander. How are you? It's been awhile," Hermione said, wheezing.
"But I remember it as if it was yesterday. Ten inches, birch, moonbeam thistle core. Quite interesting mix. Well-Rounded and strong," Ollivander said with a bit of a self- confident smirk.
"Yes, that's correct," whispered a thoroughly impressed Hermione.
"Of course it is. But your son looks he'd prefer unicorn hair to me. Just my impression. Or perhaps dragonheart string..It's in the Weasley family to be sure," he stated matter-of-factly as he began to rummage through the mountain of boxes.
Michael made a funny face at his mum, and she returned it. Elizabeth fought the urge to laugh. An outburst of laughter seemed inappropriate for the moment. He emerged some time later, wobbling along. Michael looked eager despite his initial uneasiness. I wish I was as brave as he was.
Ollivander fiddled with the box and succeeded in opening it with creaking fingers covered with white fuzz. His very essence was one of dust and ages of time, making her think of old libraries and attics. Hermione sneezed behind them and excused herself with some mild embarrassment.
Ollivander began his questioning, "Are you right-handed? Yes. Then try this one. Nine inches, willow, unicorn core. Hmm...nothing. Here's another. Alder wood. Ten and half inches. Dragonheart string. Good for Charms. Yes, that's a match for sure. And on the second try I might add! I've still got it!"
Sparks flew from Michael's new wand as a small flame emerged. Michael beamed with pride and held it up for his mum to see. Ollivander looked pleased and focused on Elizabeth. His mouth twitched.
The parched lips muttered, "Ah, Ms. Potter. I have something special for you." Then Ollivander rummaged through his cracked desk, muttering.
Elizabeth felt Michael questioning glance directed towards her back. That guy didn't have to say it like that. What does he mean anyhow? Ollivander dramatically plucked worn red father from a slot in his desk.
Hermione stiffened behind them. Awestruck, Hermione asked faintly, "Is that a phoenix feather? Is that Harry's wand's core!? How did you..."
Ollivander smiled mysteriously at her as if he was a child with a well-kept secret.
"It was found at the scene of the unpleasantness," he informed them eagerly. "Dumbledore was under the impression that it can still be used for a good strong core. I agree with him. Perhaps it is meant for young Ms. Potter here. And I have an interesting choice of wood as well. Indeed this is the only wood this feather will work with now. I've tried various combinations but it's very stubborn. Now, Ms. Potter, are you right-handed or left-handed?"
Elizabeth really felt uneasy now. She tried to think about her answer when Ollivander had asked Michael. At the orphanage, being left-handed was similar to having the bubonic plaque. She didn't want too much extra attention from the silver-eyed man. "They said at the orph-where I grew up that I am ambidextrous," she whispered. "I guess it could go either way."
Ollivander's eyes widened comically at this declaration like Christmas had come early.
He proclaimed grandly, "I have served very few with that disposition. Hmmm, this is actually the second time I have encountered this, Ms. Potter. You do me an honor indeed. You must choose your wand hand. But not right this moment. Find your strength as they say. Yes. Well, as I was saying, this feather responds to certain types of wood. This wood is a mixture of oak and elder. It is for the most part elder. This is a very promising tool for its wielder. Bewitching you might say. I had to use oak to stabilize this temperamental of wood. Have you heard the tale of Lord Compton and the Elder Witch? I've been to that site. This elder originated from that very tree. It's precisely twelve inches to the mark. Well-rounded indeed but focused on difficult magic work. Let's see. I just place the feather inside and seal it firmly. (The wand wiggled a bit in his grip) Give it a wave if you please, Ms. Potter."
Elizabeth decided to grasp it with her right hand as traditional called for. Sinister. Wicked. Dexter. Good. The moment her fingers brushed the wood she felt warmth invading her very soul. That small light inside lit up like a thousand candles. To the spectators in the room, it was a fantastic like show. Whizzing sparks flew in every direction, skimming the ceiling and knocking away a few hanging boxes. The lamps flickered on and off in response to the magic in the air. Hermione gasped and pulled Michael closer to her out of the way of the spinning sparks. The air was thick, and a small shape emerged from her wand as it did for Michael. She couldn't tell what it was but it had wings. Then it vanished with the atmosphere in the room steadily returning to normal.
The trio walked from the store in a tangible silence which was Elizabeth's least favorite condition. Mr. Ollivander had wrapped up their purchases, muttering about great things indeed. Elizabeth apologized fiercely for the state of the shop, but Mr. Ollivander wouldn't hear of it. She apparently had made the old man's day and quite possibly his life. He grinned like a mad man which sped the trio on their departure.
Michael kept casting her askance glances and refused to say anything to ease the tension. Surely he isn't jealous? What happened in there was creepy! That old man was creepy! Besides, he has an excellent wand. And excellent parents. And an excellent personality. Oh, blimey... Elizabeth shook her head and decided to ignore Michael as well.
If he was going to be this childish about the whole thing, well then that was fine with her. Two can play this game. Hermione noticed the silence and asked how they were enjoying their day. Michael cast a stare that was tinged with insolence at Elizabeth. She felt her smile drop as the strings that held it up were severed by her disappointment.
"Where is that father of yours, Michael?" Hermione bit out crisply while scanning the crowd with narrowed eyes. "Honestly, he hasn't grown up a bit! We're behind schedule now. Yes, Michael, I know you threw your schedule away. That was very silly of you, wasn't it? We'll have to rely on Elizabeth's schedule then. Thank you, Elizabeth, for being so responsible. Now, it's to Florish and Blotts for your books!"
Hermione's commentary didn't help the matter, and Elizabeth wished that she had thrown the blasted schedule in the rubbish bin as well. She focused on the flickering lights up ahead and reckoned she saw fairies inside. Elizabeth cherished the childhood joy of fairies and pixies and wanted to get a closer look. What would it be like if I was one of them? I guess I could enchant everyone to like me. Or I could just fly around, not worrying about anything at all. She was brought back to reality by a heart-wrenching explosion. Michael fell into her and brought her with him to the ground in a tangle of limbs. They were hauled back up by a surprisingly strong and frantic Hermione.
The protective mother shoved them in a side street and hissed, "Stay here and don't you dare think about moving an inch or it's your heads!" Then she charged in the direction of the explosion with her wand drawn.
People trampled by while running blindly, kicking up dust from the street. Some even fell and couldn't get up due to the panicking crowd. Screams screeched into the air and halted all human thoughts. Names were shouted as children got separated from their parents' desperate grasp. The air was hot now, stifling. It hurt so much to breathe. Michael made a motion to go after his mother, but Elizabeth grabbed his arm.
He bellowed at her, "Let go! That's my mum! She's pregnant for Cripes Sake! LET ME GO!!" He pushed her down hard and before she could collect herself, had disappeared in the mass of pushing bodies.
Oh my God, he's going to get killed. I have to go after him! I can't let him get hurt!!! She burst out from the alley and was instantly pushed back by a huge yelling man. As she dodged trying not to be pulled down by his barrels of legs, she banged into the wall and held her breath as more people flew by. Their faces were twisted in horrific expressions. Sticking close to the wall, she hurried past the boiling mass to the source of the chaos. Smoke billowed up from the side of the town and lights ripped into the sky. Green and red fought against each other, tearing one another viciously like animals thirsty for blood. There were people flying in the sky on brooms, casting spells upon the crowd. Judging from the screams along the smoking buildings, they were not friendly spells.
Then the screams grew silent as a huge figure filled the sky. It was a grinning skeleton with a serpent through its mouth. What Is THAT HORRIBLE THING?! Her heart could not beat right. It kept thudding against her, and she fell hard. Gripping the soil in her hands, she snarled up at the abomination. The shrieks of terror were nothing compared to as before. These were animalistic wails of utter anguish and despair. These wails penetrated her brain and her head pounded in response. The world continued to collapse as more buildings dissolved into ruin.
Elizabeth caught sight off another sign filling the smoldering sky, one that swallowed even the leering monstrosity. Thurisaz. Reversed Ansuz. Reversed Kenaz. Reversed Tiwaz. The sign of the Thorn blazed a path threw the sky. Then something incredible happened. The men on the brooms fled like the hounds of hell were nipping at their heels. In fact, all screams and all noise stopped.
It was quiet in the aftermath. It's like living in a necropolis. Elizabeth grabbed a window seal and pulled herself up. I have to find Hermione and Michael. Oh, please let them be alright! She found that she had somehow twisted her ankle in her last fall. Growling in frustration, she looked around wildly, gritting her teeth, biting her lips. Her legs fought against her and became numb and useless.
Some of the crowd had made past to the other side of town. Most had vanished with a crack as soon as the hooded men made their appearance. There in lies their power. Everyone's afraid of them. Cowards! She hobbled along, gripping the walls which were covered in a strange ashy powder. The taste of blood in her mouth kept her attached to this nightmare turned reality. The air was intolerable, burning her eyes and throat. Her palms made strange shapes in the dust. Then they disappeared as more powder quickly filled their spot. Her vision started to grow black around the edges. I CAN'T SEE!! Then the familiar darkness of unconsciousness took her violently as she fell with a thud on the cobbled path. Dust settled on her as well.
How Could This Happen, Dumbledore? She opened her eyes which stung as if poked by hot irons. She groaned at the pain which stabbed her chest, and Madam Pomfrey floated above her like an angel in heavenly garb.
"Oh Thank Heavens! You didn't inhale too much of the poison. OH THANK HEAVENS!" wailed the distraught nurse, clasping her gloved hands together.
Elizabeth interrupted her, yelling hysterically, "MICHAEL! HERMIONE! UNCLE RON! They're still there! GET THEM OUT!!" Her vision blurred ominously but she refused to give in. I have to help! I have to do something! Hands restrained her, forcing her back into the white covered around her.
"CALM YOURSELF CHILD! They're all well. They were taken to St. Mungo's for treatment. Albus insisted that you be brought here. Everyone made it though, Thank Heavens!" Madam Pomfrey had removed her hands, but Elizabeth found that she still could not remove herself from the vile bed.
Pomfrey thrust a vial at her. "Here take this potion. It will soothe the pain," she commanded in the fashion of a true dictator.
Elizabeth maneuvered her head away from the looming metal spoon in an act of defiance.
"Oh for goodness's sake, are you really going to make me force this down your throat?! I'd be justified to use Imperio on you! Don't make me go that far, Ms. Potter!" roared the nurse in a change of mood so sudden and unpredictable Elizabeth thought of Jekyll and Hyde.
Elizabeth didn't like the sound of the threat at all so she allowed the viscous liquid to slide down her throat. It tastes HORRIBLE! Her taste buds just perished forever in a single blow. Tears of disgust made their way down her dirty face. To her horror, sleep pushed its way in and faded the room to her dismay.
Lowered voices greeted her return to the living. The lamps flickering above illuminated the curtains around her. Two shadows covered the wall and played on the covers.
"How can this happen, Albus? He's dead. He has to be dead. You yourself saw him die at the hands of Harry Potter!" whispered a female voice. The voices did not notice that Elizabeth was awake. It was if she was a leave that had by chance fallen silently in the court yard.
"Poppy, there were some things Tom dabbled in that where beyond my conception. To my eyes, I saw him die; in my mind, I saw him die and accepted it. However, he always claimed immortality. He's seared it into his followers, that much is clear. Perhaps, they are being deceived by trickery; someone pretending to be the Dark Lord. Perhaps, their minds won't let him die. To them, he must exist in some form or another. Their raids have been becoming fiercer, bolder. They believe strongly in whatever it is, and it has pushed them towards insanity and damnation. These atrocities today are beyond those of any committed on both sides of the war. It was mindless slaughter. Muggleborns and half-bloods weren't the only ones who suffered losses today. The attack was so well organized. They slipped through the Ministry's security like it was child's play. Even when Voldemort was strong, he proved unable to accomplish such a feat. The Aurors did not have any warnings, any whispers of an attack. I would have never believed-and that mark," Dumbledore halted, apparently struck by an impacting thought.
"What is it, Albus?" pressed Madam Pomfrey tensely as if she really did not want to satisfy her curiosity.
"It has burned in the sky once before on the very night of the Potters' downfall. It's the mark that rose above the ruins of their home, not the Dark Mark. This mark comes from a different more ancient source, overshadowing the Dark Lord in its malevolence. The Death Eaters fled from it; they fear it as much as we. Fawkes has been disturbed of late. Hagrid's reported that all magical creatures are fleeing the area. Some are even starving themselves to escape it. They sense it in the wind. They sense that it's coming here."
The voices stopped, and the shadows stood motionless for awhile.
"Make sure Elizabeth fares well tonight," said Dumbledore in what Elizabeth perceived to be a fatherly fashion.
"I plan to stay with her," Madam Pomfrey stated resolutely even with some defiance as if he would dare suggest otherwise.
"That is for the best. I fear we'll have to heighten our security around the castle. She'll have to stay with us until the start of the new school year. Maybe others can rally here. I want to give them hope, Poppy." Then Dumbledore's footfalls made their way out of the hospital wing and left Elizabeth's imagination to hatch its own dark terrors.
Once again, she awoke to a voice, but this voice sent shivers of gripping cold down her spine. It was raspy and strained as if coming from the walls. She stared into the darkness with waves of numbness spreading throughout her body. Her side hurt in disapproval. The darkness was going to engulf her. She snapped her eyes shut and gripped her pillow tightly to the point where her fingers shot pain into her arm. Has it come now? There was a clinking as the curtains moved.
Elizabeth resigned herself to her fate; she looked up, gaping into the dark and afraid to breathe. She was afraid to move an inch. The bleak curtains remained in their place, forming a suffocating box around her. I'm in a tomb. They protected her but kept her in the dark about what had taken place. The moon light streamed through the glass window and gave life to the dead.
Every thing was too still as if waiting for something. Peering into the blue light, she saw the curtains move again, shimmering against limber fingertips. She needed a resolution; she needed this to end. Where's my wand? It was lying among the bowls and vials on the table near her bed. She had to get to it but that meant reaching through the curtains. She turned very slightly, hand moving towards her salvation. Her hand darted forward, felt cool wood, and retrieved her weapon.
The fingers on the curtain retreated, and she heard a crunching of glass and a swish of a cloak moving away from her fortress. The only way to survive this is to surprise them. Do exactly what they least expect. She ripped way the curtains and leapt into the air, holding her wand in front of her like a samurai warrior. Then she hissed in pain. Glass covered the ground. What?! All the former floating candles had fallen to the ground and were still in motion, rocking back and forth. How could I not have heard that?! She caught sight of a shadow in the corner and ventured closer with her wand in hand. It was Madam Pomfrey dozing lightly in a chair, and she too had slept through the noise.
Then she saw the smirking, tall boy who was leaning cockily against the doorway. He beckoned to her with his long fingers; he wanted her to follow him. His eyes still burned with the flames within him. A distorted smile was pasted on his face. A strange feeling raced across her spine and into her mind. Don't follow him! The untraceable command was simple and direct. She met the burning gaze of the arrogant boy and mouthed Not on your life.
Simply saying this angered him was an understatement. Vials flew through the air, aiming strategically at her face. She ducked, and they shattered behind her, leaving her in a shower of jagged, glistening glass. The cabinets shelving potions were pushed over by an invisible hand and exploded in splinters upon hitting the floor. Madam Pomfrey sprung out of her chair with a shriek. Elizabeth looked pitifully up at her from her circle of glass and saw that the boy was gone.
"WHAT ARE YOU ABOUT, CHILD?!" Pomfrey screamed. "WHY DID YOU DO THIS?!"
Elizabeth tried to speak but was interrupted by the abrupt arrival of Albus Dumbledore who survived chaos in the hospital wing over his moon- shaped spectacles.
Stunned at the violent scene, he asked quietly, "What has happened here? Poppy?"
Like a rag being wiped across a table, Pomfrey squeaked out, "She's destroyed my supply of potions and caused the disaster that you see before you. She's out of control, Dumbledore!"
Dumbledore hushed her with a look and directed his next enquiry toward Elizabeth.
"Is this true, Ms. Potter?"
"NO! I woke up and heard someone in the room. When I got up, the lights were out and then the glass exploded all around me," Elizabeth stated firmly, tactfully omitting the shade of the miserable boy that was haunting her.
Without a doubt, Dumbledore knew she was withholding something for him and stared at her sternly with disappointment heavily reflected in his blue eyes.
Madam Pomfrey gave a snort of disbelief, waving her hand dramatically at the door. "I assure you that no one could have gotten in here, Ms. Potter. I charmed the door myself. There was only you and I in this room. Now tell the truth!"
Dumbledore commented that the door was indeed open and that is why he entered the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey flushed and began to pick up the spare pieces of glass. Elizabeth winced as she examined her wounded feet. Glass with flecks of her blood still remained embedded in her skin of her trembling hands. The blood that had come from her wounded feet made the slick floor hard to stand on, and she slipped back onto the bed, getting tangled in the curtains.
Dumbledore approached her quickly and examined her feet, looking pained at their bloody condition. He gingerly held them in his soft, wrinkled hands and muttered a spell just out of her hearing. She felt a warm tingling and knew her feet had been healed. He sought out her eyes, questioning her silently. Elizabeth quickly pretended to be busily examining her feet. He sighed with disappointed and slowly straightened up, his back creaking a bit. She kept her head down and followed his shadow that crossed towards the shattered windows with her eyes.
Madam Pomfrey never ceased in her mutinous murmurings that grew into an angry buzzing around Elizabeth's head. Dumbledore surveyed the grounds, his face fraught with worry. He turned to Pomfrey and Elizabeth who both were waiting for his verdict.
"I must summon the Order and faculty immediately. The barrier around Hogwarts has been weakened considerably by-something," he said gravely.
Madam Pomfrey gasped in disbelief. "It cannot be. That barrier has existed since the time of Godric Gryffindor. It remains as long as this castle stands."
Dumbledore stood in silence near the open windows, draped in moonlight. He looked so very tired as if he was about to fade away in the pale light from all his futile attempts to maintain order and peace. His failures were eating him away from the inside. He left the room while maintaining his gloomy silence.
Madam Pomfrey turned to Elizabeth, suspicion still etched fixedly into her usually friendly face. Pomfrey couldn't help but think 'Ever since she came here, things have been going badly.' Poppy forced her face into a friendly grimace and quietly ushered Elizabeth out into the damp halls. The nurse's mouth was scarlet due to her nervously biting her lips; it looked like blood from a knife wound.
"It would be best if you remained in Gryffindor tower for the rest of the evening. For your safety. I'll accompany you," Madam Pomfrey said dryly, locking the hospital wing with her wand.
Elizabeth was glad she had someone to walk down the ominous corridors. However, she retracted that thought when Madam Pomfrey continued to drill holes in the back of her head with her sharp eyes. A hotness rose in her throat, and her body tensed from confusion and her sore feet. They couldn't have reached the portrait of the Fat Lady any sooner. Elizabeth hurried inside, wincing as the cold floor made contact with her bare feet. The portrait closed with a click, and she distinctly heard conspiring whispers on the other side. She waited a few seconds and then tried to open the portrait to no avail. She was locked in for the night.
Her chest hurt from the distrust the kindly nurse had directed at her. It pierced through her like a cold knife. It brought on an onslaught on negative thoughts in its wake, opening a flood gate. She remembered Michael's quiet resentment and Hermione's disbelieving gaze. She remembered Fleur's distasteful scrutiny and the exchange of judgment through her glances with Angelina. Most of all, she remembered Dumbledore's fierce disappointment, and at this bitter memory, she threw herself heavily onto the red couch by the fire. The fire burned in tune with her anxiety. She was lulled to sleep by its dance and failed to notice the searing gaze from the dark corner of the room. He sneered at her and threw out words in her direction. Soon, little one, it will come to pass. Very soon.
"A balance of good and bad is the doorway to destiny."
A Japanese Proverb
Here's some links to some info to the story for alabaster marble shimmered under the moonlight. It shone forth from among the dark, grasping branches and was pleasant to her sight. It was an otherworldly gateway among earthbound roots. Nearby was a cave adorned in leaves that were made pale by the blue light. The darkness from within the cave crept forth like a sly creature hunting its prey. It was held in check by the light reflecting off the haze of the cold marble. A glove clinging to skeleton thin fingers darted forward into her view to brush away clinging spider webs and stray leaves. In Memory of Harry James Potter the Boy Who Lived to be the Man Who Saved Us All
The hand traced the etched words and then retracted as if burned, and the figure stood in the swirling darkness. Huge partly because of the robes and the height of the figure, it cast a shadow over the monument, erasing the words from sight. The figure turned slightly. It knew it was being watched. Please Don't Turn Around! The robes full of midnight purple swirls and runes poured over the person's body onto the sinking ground that also held shapes.
Whispers were all around in the trees, in the shadows, and in her mind. Her skin prickled in her tension. Something was tangible in this place. What is it? The ground seemed to be humming, shaking her frame and the air around her. Her breath misted into shapes, even words and then vanished in the thick air.
Words hung from the trees, little pieces of parchment on strings in a crude mockery of the leaves. Thurisaz. Reversed Ansuz .Reversed Kenaz. Reversed Tiwaz.
On the other side of the spectrum- Wunjo. Kenaz. Tiwaz. Algiz. Sowilo.Mannaz. Tying them all together was Perthro, written in gold script. Below this one was a blank rune, swirling in the wind. Choose...
The figure stepped away from the blackened monument, and the words that had been changed blazed up at her. In Memory of Elizabeth Faye Potter the Girl Who Lived to be The Woman to Curse Us All
The figure turned around to face her; a hush fell from the trees. The face was darkened, unknowable. The pieces of white paper remained frozen in time except for the blank paper that continued to move in sequence with the rasping breath of the hooded mystery. A gloved hand removed the hood. The thrill of horror she felt now overshadowed any she had ever felt before. She opened her mouth with a scream struggling to come out. I know...
Elizabeth snapped her eyes open, throwing off her covers. Her body was drenched in sweat, not an uncommon state. However, she had never had this dream before. Biting her lips, she looked around, rapidly rubbing away the goose bumps on her arms. She thanked the flickering lamps that warmed the white room. She was momentarily confused about the moving curtains around her. Then the events from the last few hours filtered through her confusion.
It was a grating process that was almost painful in its languid movement. She crossed her knees and nervously picked at the stray threads from the covers. She was thankful she hadn't yelled out and caused a disturbance. Dreamless sleep, feh! She realized her dream was flowing away from her, slipping out of her grip. She grasped her face with her cold hands and struggled to remember. For the most part, it had already fled into her subconscious. Burned into her closed eyelids was the golden word perthro. That was the only thing she remembered except for a flash of the most blinding, pure white. Though that may be because of the whiteness of the room she was currently occupying. She didn't know how she knew that word perthro. She knew she had seen it somewhere before. The memory was locked tightly from her, a far away secret.
I wish I had asked Dumbledore why I can't remember my family or that night. Why didn't I ask?
She thought she remembered her mother and father. They were images of ghosts wrapped in her memories that wandered in and out of sight.
Didn't I have a brother though? What about him? She knew she had been too flustered to ask the correct questions when she had had the opportunity. She then became angry at herself and sighed. A fragrant smell reached her that aroused her from her mental ranting, and she looked out of the corner of eyes.
She didn't like the motions of the curtains around her. Hands on the curtains. She ripped apart the curtains as silk caught on her chewed-on nails. Nothing there. She got up cautiously from the bed with her feet comforted by the warmed floor from a spell she suspected. Tiptoeing towards the doors, she grasped the handles and pushed on the doors. It refused to yield to her. She investigated the rest of the room and occasionally tripped on her overlarge pajamas. Ornate wooden cabinets were full of all sorts of what she assumed where potions. Skelegrow. Lypasis of Sleep. Madam Nostrum's All Instant Boil Relief. Fang Shrinkage.
She went to the windows and saw that the new day was rearing its head out from behind the trees. Looking down on the vast grounds, she saw a greenhouse with a ceiling covered in moving greenery. Little balls of blue and pink zoomed around the glass which shimmered like liquid in the morning glow. A wooden hut mounted on stones stood guard by the entrance of the forest amassed with wisps of haze. It had a fence where a few shadows were slinking about out of sight. She thought she saw an odd assortment of limbs like jagged wings cutting through the darkness.
Shaking her head, she decided to go back to bed and retrieved the tangled covers from behind the posts of the bed. Straightening the bed the best she could, she positioned herself and traced the figures on the headboard. The figures depicted a golden bird rising from the ashes of burning fire with rays of light and smoke following its tail. She fell asleep with her fingertips brushing the raised up feathers of the phoenix. She was awoken hours later by a hand shaking her shoulder lightly. She let a whine slip through her dry lips and tightened her grip on her pillow.
"Come on, Lizzy. Don't you want some breakfast?" Tonks inquired gently.
In response to Tonks's voice above her, she turned around and was blinded by a combination of her own tangled red hair and Tonks's violet tresses. She blinked sluggishly as her eyelashes were caught by her strains of red. The sunlight turned the room bright and her hair golden. She imagined her head probably looked like it was on fire. Fun. She sat up in the bunched up covers with her feet sticking out and looked up at Tonks whose hair was rapidly changing. Woah. Am I still asleep?
Tonks giggled at her expression. She said slyly, "I am Metamorphmagus. I like to be spontaneous sometimes. It's a new day ahead and all with old friends. How do you like my look?" Her hair was blond and long now, and she was taller. She had retained her violet eyes.
"You look great," Elizabeth replied sincerely. "How did you learn to do that?" She was a little bit envious of Tonks's skill.
"Sorry, Liz. I was born with this skill. It makes up for me tripping over myself," Tonks explained with a swish of her golden locks.
Elizabeth got up and met her image in a mirror across from her. Ewww. Her hair darted every which way and her clothes hung off of her. I look like a bum. I'm going to scare everyone and ruin breakfast.
Tonks understood her grimace and said quickly, "Your grandmother brought you some of your mother's old clothes. I think they'll fit you. I thought you'd like to meet our friends at Hogsmeade. It'll make a great atmosphere. You'll love it. You'll be seeing the Great Hall quite often anyway."
Tonks handed her some clothing and left to let her change. Elizabeth spread the clothes out on the bed and stepped back to examine them. A green shirt which dipped down with long sleeves that belled out intertwined with thread. It reminded her of the Renaissance. Thank goodness it has long sleeves. Then there was a black shirt with green leaves on the side.
What caught her eye was a golden necklace among the garments. Picking the fragile chain up gently, she realized it was a phoenix locket. She opened it trembling, and she saw the eyes of her parents gazing up at her. To Gin. Thanks for being by my side. Our love will last forever. We'll rise together. Love, Harry. The words began to blur. Elizabeth hastily wiped the tears pooling in her eyes. She felt light scratches on the back of the necklace and flipped it over. To Lily. Love James.
She stood in the room as time flew by unnoticed. She held the necklace reverently in the middle of her cupped palms. It seems so fragile. She went to the mirror and did the clasp of the necklace. Her green eyes glistened back at her as she touched the necklace lying in the indention of her neck. I'll never take it off.
The mirror, rudely ruining the moment, squawked at her, "Dear, do hurry and get dressed. And do something about your hair. It's simply in tangles!"
A startled Elizabeth jumped back and sprang into action. She hastily discarded her pajamas and changed, jumping on one leg. She tied the boots (which just didn't seem to want to tie) that came along with the outfit. She searched the drawers for a brush or comb or anything.
The mirror hissed at her, "In the drawer, child. In the drawer!"
Casting a dark look at the condescending mirror, she drew out a comb and tried to ease out the hair tangled by wind and sleep. She spied a hair tie lying hidden on the bed and tied up her hair. That's much better. Wiping her sweaty palms on the bed sheets, she opened the unbarred door and stepped into the hall.
Tonks accosted her, cooing about how much she reminded her of Lily Potter. Then she led her down the halls and into the main hall. No candles were floating this morning and the armor remained blessedly inanimate. The grand doors with took up half the wall opened, and the scent of summer entered the castle that warmed the floors and ancient tapestries. Tonks and Elizabeth hurried down the steps, Elizabeth taking two at a time. She looked around excitedly, noting the archways and gargoyles lining them. She longed to explore and discover what was down those worn corridors, but she restrained herself.
Then she saw a looming figure ambling toward them out of the shadows. The figure's face was covered in a thick beard, but Elizabeth was really too busy noting how tall this guy was. Everything was dwarfed around him and a hunched dog that made up two of her trailed along behind him. He carried a cross bow in his hairy boulder of a hand. Oh My God. She tried to conceal herself behind Tonks as swiftly as possible, but her attempts were futile.
Tonks beamed at the giant, waving him over with a yell, "Oi, Hagrid. Course, you're coming to Hogsmeade with us! Put away that muggle thing-a-ma- gig and hurry up!"
The man reached them in two steps and haphazardly threw the crossbow to the side. Elizabeth followed its progress with her eyes and let them remain on it, lying threateningly among the blades of grass. She almost fell down as a huge hand slapped her on the back.
"Merlin's beard!" the giant bellowed. "This is her, then? O'course, yeh are. Rubeus Hagrid, pleased to meet yeh."
Hagrid seized her hand and shook it vigorously, lifting her off the ground in the process. Judging by Tonks's open face, Elizabeth realized that the intimidating man meant them no harm and was in fact friendly. Very Friendly!
"Er, yeah, I'm her, I mean-I'm Elizabeth," she managed to choke out. She hazarded a guess that that's what he meant. The ruddy man beamed down at her, his eyes crinkling behind his beard.
"Yer the spittin' image of little Lily. I 'member her scampering around. Heh. Off to meet the others?" Hagrid directed his attention to Tonks who responded with an affirmative.
"Wouldn't be at the Three Broomsticks, would it?" Hagrid's restrained voice didn't hide his apparent excitement.
"That it is, Hagrid! I know what you're thinking," said Tonks slyly as she winking at him mischievously.
Hagrid stuttered, "That's not it at all, 'onestly. Olympe would have a ruddy fit, she 'ould. 'Ave to be a 'ponsible parent, yeh know. Yep. I 'ust became a dad."
"Oh, congratulations!" Elizabeth replied politely.
Hagrid boasted loudly, "Just like yer dad, yeh are! Little Gred would love fer yer to visit 'em. The 'ittle tyke! Grawp plays with 'em alot, but its 'ust not the same, yeh know."
Elizabeth wondered just how little this tyke was, judging by the size of his father. She agreed though, and Hagrid was alight with happiness. The strange trio started down the path with Elizabeth having to jog to keep up with the adults. They talked among themselves about what Elizabeth assumed was current events in the wizarding world. Hagrid let something slip about Death Eaters (Elizabeth shivered at the name), but Tonks silenced him with a look.
He hastily changed the subject, "Eh, Elizabeth. Yeh know I'm a teacher here? I 'ow teach me class to first years and 'econd years. Care of Magical Creatures! Dumbledore decided me class was too 'mportant not be 'aught earlier on."
"I'll look forward to it," she said sincerely. What kind of creatures could this Hagrid cook up to show them? Hagrid began to talk rapidly in his excitement. Elizabeth could harldy under stand him.
He sputtered out, "I was "hinkin about startin' off with some griffins. Friendly yeh know. 'Airly interesting, 'ight?" Hagrid looked at her for approval.
"Um, sounds like it," said Elizabeth with some hesitation. Griffins?
They reached massive iron gates. Tonks crossed to a gargoyle and whispered something in its pointy ear. It gave a squeak, and the gates swung open. Beyond it was a village that looked like something out of Dr. Seuss. It was quaint and warm and had all sorts of scents welcome them. Elizabeth let out a squeal of excitement despite herself that made her companions chuckle. This is bloody amazing! She began to lead the way practically running through the summer breeze, causing her hair coming undone. As she stopped to wait for the huffing adults, she looked around at the village. To her right was a pink shoppe with the words written in hearts Madam Puddifoot's and a door with a quaint little bell on top. Graffiti littered the ground by the door. She squinted; she thought she saw a darting naked cupid inside. No, no...don't be silly. That's a bit too rich.
Tonks sighed whimsically behind her, "Ah, Madam Puddifoots. That brings back fond memories."
Elizabeth began to walk further in the village. She wasn't alone. A maze of multicolored cloaks and chatter greeted her as they traveled to and fro from shop to shop with bells ringing continuously. She had reached the main street. Two men debated something heavily in front of Dervish and Bangs; one man waved a broomstick with a broken tail haughtily in the other's ruddy face. Laughter reached her ears, and she turned to find a group of youth in front of Zonko's. That's some name. Sparks and crackles came from inside the clustered group of cloaks. A chicken sped out from between the teenagers' legs, flapping its wings and clucking madly. Its escape was hindered by a dark blue cloak dragging behind it. It was pursued by a roguish blond guy who looked rather flustered. Sort of handsome!
"Charles, I was just kidding around, mate! Come back!" He launched himself through the air and grabbed Charles the Chicken.
Elizabeth hurried past the whirl of feathers and yelps. Tonks pointed out Honeydukes and promised to take Elizabeth by later on. They finally reached their destination, slightly worn out. On a hill overlooking the village was a leaning shack with boarded up windows. An overgrown garden gave warning to any foolhardy person. Abandon all hope ye who enter here. She paused outside the wooden, old-time looking Three Broomsticks. Upbeat voices resounded from inside and the clanking of glasses.
Tonks placed a hand on her shoulder. "We rented out the place for an hour or two. Madam Rosmerta was happy to do it. She insisted that drinks be on the house. It will just be us and close friends."
Elizabeth gulped and nodded quickly, fingers unconsciously traveling up to clutch her necklace. The feeling of the wings of the phoenix gave her some comfort. She fidgeted and checked her hair while smoothing down her clothes. Hagrid came up from behind, looking anxious to get in and get down to business. Elizabeth took a deep breath and opened the door.
A large company waited around a wooden table with drinks in hand. They grew silent and looked up expectantly, collectively holding their breaths. A gray haired woman in pink heels peered around the bar curiously and looked Elizabeth up and down. The room seemed very crowded due to the mirror on the wall reflecting the crowd two-fold. Elizabeth met their gazes with massive butterflies in her stomach. She felt a nudge in the small of her back, and she ventured in further. The majority were an assortment of red- heads in all different shades. A gray-haired man, thick-haired brunette, a brunette freckled kid about her age, a breathtaking blond woman, and a small black woman contrasted strongly against their companions.
A sniffle rose broke the silence, and Elizabeth blinked. A short woman with white hair threatening to wash away the red stood up shakily. It seemed like Elizabeth blinked again, and then she was engulfed in a huge hug, feeling her mother's shirt getting damp from the tears of her grandmother. A balding man attempted to pry her arms apart.
"Molly, dear, don't startle the poor girl. There, there," murmured the faded man who Elizabeth assumed was her grandfather.
Mrs. Weasley, weeping openly, released her bear hug and contented herself by holding Elizabeth's hands tightly.
"I'm sorry, dear, I'm so emotional today," Mrs. Weasley sobbed. "It's been so long since I've held you in my arms. Just look at you. You're all grown- up. I'm so sorry I wasn't there to be a proper grandmother to you."
Elizabeth was at a lost for words. She wished she could say something reassuring that could soothe the older woman, but she found her mind had been a blank slate. It seemed she was trying to cross of river of sorrow. Her only response was her own tears.
"Oy, isn't this supposed to be a cheerful occasion? Cut the waterworks before we all drown, and sit down, stay awhile," said a freckled man who emphasized his cheerful words by patting the seat next to him encouragingly.
Molly led Elizabeth to the chair and returned to her own as she continued staring at Elizabeth with ineffable joy. There was a brief moment of confusion as room was made for Hagrid. Madam Rosmerta floated over with a whole round of drinks. She placed a butterbeer dramatically in front of Elizabeth. Elizabeth was thankful for something to keep her hands busy.
"I think introductions are in order," announced the same vastly freckled and burly man. "I'm Fred, and this is Angelina, my wife. And that's my brother, George. He's my twin. You might have noticed." George nodded and gave her a cheerful wave.
Fred continued to introduce everyone as an ice-breaker, "That lanky fellow over there is my little brother, Ronald. ("Don't fidget so, Ron.") That's Hermione, married to said brother, and she's going to be your professor for this year. Exciting, eh? ("Lucky us," the freckled kid commented). That's Michael, their little or not so little bundle of joy whose currently sinking under the table. ("Michael, straighten up.") That's me older bro, Bill, treasurer-hunter extraordinare and all-around good-guy. (My other older brother, Charlie all-around good guy number two, couldn't come today. Fighting with dragons, he is. He's coming tomorrow.") The lovely Madam Fleur who is as hard as it is too believe spouse to all-around good guy. That there is the master of Defense Against the Dark Arts a.k.a Remus Lupin. He's also a professor this year. You're getting some connections here, Elizabeth. You're never too young for that, eh? That's my dear dad, Arthur. I guess you can call him gramps. And then the matriarch of the Weasley Clan, Molly Weasley, (Man, mum, it's awkward calling you Molly. I need to cleanse my mouth now.). Well, that's the introductions bit. Any comments, questions, or protests?"
Fred was interrupted by Hermione, "How are you, Elizabeth? I hear you had a hard journey here. This must be a shock for you. I know it was for me. I came from a muggle family."
Michael piped up excitedly, "Yeah, I heard you flew a muggle bed around buzzing some muggles. That's bloody brilliant! Can you teach me?" He got a jab in the side from his mother with a sharp hiss of hush.
"That was quite an impressive display of magic," said Professor Lupin.
The worn man smiled pleasantly at Elizabeth. She noticed dark circles hung under his glazed, amber eyes. He looked older than anyone else at the table, including Arthur Weasley. Little flecks of brown peered through the mass of gray hair that hung around his face. He still managed to study her intently with a look of recognition though she was sure she had never seen him before in her life. His presence brought forth the image of mystery as well as tragedy.
"Of course, she gets it from the Weasley side. That was some classic Weasley action, that was," Fred stated, gesturing towards all the red-heads present at the table.
"You remind me so much of my Ginny," Mrs. Weasley whispered in a glazed voice. "Those clothes are perfect for you. And I see you've found the necklace. I thought you'd like it."
Everyone turned at once to observe the necklace, and Elizabeth smiled timidly.
"I love it. Thank you. I won't take it off again," she said with her voice overflowing with unfamiliar emotion. She was honestly surprised at herself. Her experience in the muggle world had taught her that displaying one's emotions so openly was a weakness.
Mrs. Weasley's eyes watered up instantily, and Mr. Weasley patted her arm comfortingly.
Fred took a great sip of Butterbeer and winked at her.
He asked, "How do you like Hogsmeade? Though my flavor is Diagon Alley. I plan to have you see it before your term starts, you know. George and I own a joke shop, Weasley Wizard Wheezes! You deserve a first-hand tour."
Michael perked up when he heard this last bit.
Ron, upon noting his son, said, "Liz, me and Hermione planned to take Michael tomorrow to get his wand. Love for you to come with us. Everyone knows that getting your wand is the best part of being a wizard."
"Nah, it's the Quidditch, Ron!" George exclaimed confidently as he whacked his younger brother on the back of the head. "I bet Liz here is a natural at flying."
"I'd say," Tonks laughed. "She handled flying like a pro. She should have been born with wings."
Elizabeth went to bed that night with the promise of Diagon Alley echoing in her mind. My own wand! Imagine what I could do with my very own wand!! She touched the phoenix lightly, looking up at the lion carved above her bed. She had the whole Gryffindor dormitories to herself. Although she initially didn't care for the rooms adorned with Red, she grew to love this shade. It was warm and reminded her of her new found family. She sank into the golden covered bed with a glow on her face. Candles rotated slowly in the air as they floated around her bed. She became sleepy just watching them continue their silent dance.
Tonks had understood her loathing of the dark.
"I don't like the dark either. That digs up memories I'm not too fond of," Tonks said gravely, not willing to go into detail on the matter.
Elizabeth gave no thought to the mysterious boy with the flashing eyes. It was like it never had happened but remained with her, affecting her in ways she would not come to know until later. It was a bad taste she couldn't shake. Yet her family's joy and offer of companionship washed away the emotional upheaval left from yesterday. I have a family who cares about me.
Warmth fell over her in waves. As her eyes drifted to sleep, she wasn't haunted by red eyes or cold hands. She woke up the next morning chill-free. No nightmares had scarred her with their claws, and she had never had a better morning. She got dressed in a record amount of time. She tied up her hair as she did yesterday and bounced down the stairs. Tonks was waiting for her in the common room with her usual violet look.
Tonks answered Elizabeth's questioning eyes, "This just suits me best. You look perky this morning, Liz. Good nights sleep, I reckon."
"Yeah, I slept like a rock."
"Good to hear. Hermione insists that you come to their house first for breakfast. Though I'd be careful if I were you. Hermione's the most brilliant witch I have ever met, but she isn't exactly a whiz in the kitchen. You'll be going by Floo Powder. You'll have a better time with it than Portkeys," Tonks said wisely.
I certainly hope so.
Tonks used her wand to start a good crackling fire in the hearth and then poured in a sparkling powder from a small bag. Elizabeth jumped back as the fire roared up, turning a mixture of purple and blue.
"Jump on in, Liz," Tonks gestured towards the blue fire.
"Jump...into the fire?" sputtered Elizabeth. Surely she hadn't heard Tonks correctly.
"Don't worry. It's completely fool proof, I promise. Travel by it all the time. Just keep up hands close by your sides. Oh, and shut your eyes. There's tons of soot up in there. Do that, and you'll be as right as rain! Just say clearly Weasley-Granger residence, right oh!" Tonks winked at her reassuringly.
Elizabeth did not want Tonks to think that she didn't trust her. Gritting her teeth and closing her eyes tightly, she stepped into the fire and spoke as clearly as possible although the soot bothered her nose immensely. Despite the warnings, her eyes flew open as she started to spin within the flames. Tonks's violet weaved in and out of her sight until it was just a blur.
Nausea attacked her instantly, and she closed her eyes. She felt winds roar by her, rustling her clothes. Her necklace kept hitting her in the mouth. There goes my hair again and the tie... She cracked open her eyes through her hair and saw fireplaces zooming by her. Faces flashed in and out of the hearths; someone thought to give her a cheery wave. She burst through the fireplace as soot flew in all directions and showered the inhabitants of the household.
Michael stifled a laugh at the sight of an extremely sooty Elizabeth and Hermione. Ron peered over the top of the paper he was reading with amusement. Isn't there a tidier way to travel in the wizarding world? Bugger, my outfit... Hermione helped her to her feet and with a quick wave of her wand ("Scourify"), not a trace of the soot remained. Elizabeth fed off each display of magic and desired more; it was addictive. I can't wait for my wand!
It was by far the best house Elizabeth had ever been in. She suspected it stood on magic alone. Clocks ticked from every direction while gold sparks hung in the air. It was built from beautiful, rich wood that gave the home off a pleasant fragrance. Dishes clanked in the sink as they dutifully washed themselves.
As soon as an unsuspecting Hermione turned her back, Ron raised his wand from under his shirt cuffs, and the food on the plate she had served them disappeared. Michael raised his finger to his lips and gave Elizabeth a pointed look. Hermione gasped in delight; everyone always loved her dishes. They finished their breakfast so quickly.
Breakfast was a quick affair, and the group used Floo Powder one more time. After being thoroughly Scourified, Michael and Elizabeth wandered through the crowds. Michael bombarded her with questions. She never had so much positive attention before. This too was addicting.
"When's you're birthday, El?" Michael asked in a friendly tone as if he had known her his whole life.
"August 4," answered a shy Elizabeth as she fiddled nervously with the loose threads on her robes.
"Mine's April 11. What's the muggle world like? We visit my muggle grandparents sometimes, but it's really not the same as living there."
"I kind of didn't have a good view of it while I was there. It's probably full of nice people. I dunno..." Elizabeth couldn't find a single could thing to say about the muggle world. She was relieved when Michael shot out another row of questions.
"Looking forward to Uncle Fred's and George's joke shop?" he said in a loud voice that carried far and wide, making heads swivel in their direction. "I heard it's wicked! What house do you think you'll be in?"
"Um..house?" That sounded familiar.
"Yeah, Hogwart's house," Michael answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Oh yeah!" Elizabeth hurried to save face. "I'm staying in the Gryffindor common room at Hogwarts!"
"Lucky you!" he exclaimed in envy. "Is it nice?"
"I bet it's the nicest common room in the whole place," Elizabeth gushed with confidence.
"Man, I hope I'm in Gryffindor. You know that whole family is," Michael informed her. "You're dad was in Gryffindor too. I'd never come home again if I put in Slytherin or Hufflepuff!"
Elizabeth was taken back by the harshness of his declaration. Isn't that a bit prejudiced? She commented lightly, "I'm sure your parents will be proud either way. I am just glad to be going to Hogwarts."
Michael shrugged and said gruffly, "That's true. But there wasn't a witch or wizard that went bad that wasn't in Slytherin. I've got hold up the family standard here. Anyway Mums got pregnant..."
"Really, I can't tell," she responded in surprise and quirked up one eyebrow that quickly blended in with her hair.
The same Hermione looked lean and trim. She was practically glowing at old acquaintances that happened to pass them by. To be sure, she didn't act at all like a nervous, soon-to-be mother.
"I've just found out. I have to be a role model for my little brother. Now I really have to be in Gryffindor," Michael stated with a tone of finality.
"What does your dad do?" asked a curious Potter. I'm interested in what I can do in this world.
Michael swelled up in pride. Elizabeth quickly realized that this was the question he had been waiting for her to ask.
He answered her in an even louder voice, "He's an Auror. Catches all the bad wizards he does. He caught Malfoy's cousin in with the Death Eaters a few weeks ago. Talk about a bad bunch. Malfoy claims he has nothing to do with them. Yeah right! But Dad showed them."
Michael beamed with pride while he spoke, and his blue eyes sparkled. Elizabeth knew he would be in Gryffindor. He was too bold to go anywhere else. Every move he made resounded with confidence and seemed to affect everyone around him. She admired him. But when he mentioned Houses, she grew nervous. What if I'm not in Gryffindor? What will they think? Harry Potter's daughter..a Slytherin! It might just make the Wizarding News. She decided to change the subject. Something had been bothering her since her trip to Hogsmeade.
"Hey, Michael, what are Death Eaters?" Elizabeth asked with determination. She was going to find out one way or another.
"Oh, they're what's left of Voldemort's little group." His tone was thick in tangible disgust and accompanied by a curled lip. "Though it's really not that little. They're still about causing trouble, messing with the minds of muggles, and spreading general chaos. Yech. But we're catching the rest of them. You'd think for Slytherins they'd be more-crafty like."
Now I have to be in Gryffindor. What pressure...Her chest felt burdened again. She had assumed her family wouldn't care what house she was in judging by their attitude. Now she wasn't sure at all. Would Michael talk to me again if I was in another house?
Hermione's voice carried back to the pair. "Michael, Elizabeth, do hurry. We have a lot to do. Stick to the schedule, please. It should be speaking and being more helpful than that. I'm positive I cast the right charm."
Sensing the oncoming tirade, Michael quickly interrupted, "Oh, they're fine, Mum. No worries."
He had stuffed the schedules tightly in his pocket to muffle the annoying voice. It was really quite a horrible, little voice. Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions loomed in front of them. Elizabeth walked in first, followed by Michael who was dragging his feet. The stout, gray haired woman with spectacles floated around them, bringing robes with dust flying everywhere. Even Hermione's seemingly endless patience was tried. Her smile grew more forced with every piece of garment that hit the floor.
The measuring tape flew buzzing around like an insect, and one had to be very still to avoid having a nasty paper cut. She met some of her future classmates through the ordeal. Josephine Finch-Fletchley seemed like a very nice but a bit on the shy side. She too hoped for Gryffindor although her father was formerly a Hufflepuff. She also was very concerned about her classes especially Care of Magical Creatures. Elizabeth tried to reassure her by mentioning the griffins; Michael was exited, but Josephine looked less than thrilled.
Elizabeth also met the Finnigan girl whose first name was Sandy, and it was a name Elizabeth wouldn't forget as it fit her well. She had more freckles than Michael could ever dream of having. Her brown eyes and hair also made her name memorable. Elizabeth loved her smile; she was like Michael in that respect. She whistled the funniest songs through the gaps she had in her teeth that provided entertainment for her peers. She was so lively, making Madam Malkin a nervous wreck. The madam's hair had fallen from its bun which hung by her face in tatters. She hunched about darkly, muttering about how she was too old for this job and eying the children. Elizabeth thought for one moment that madam, fed up with the chatter, would chew off the mole on the side of her mouth and spit it at them.
Madam Malkin was left leaning against the desk in relief as group of early shoppers left the store. Elizabeth enjoyed listening to the memories shared between Hermione and Sandy's dad. Apparently Gryffindor was the most exciting house of the lot. Certainly the Gryffindors had spirit. More than anything, Elizabeth wanted to be with her new friends when she got to Hogwarts. She didn't know what she would do if they were separated.
Michael wouldn't hear of visiting Flourish and Blotts before getting his wand. It was some tense moment as mother faced off against son. Then, Michael insisted they go to lunch afterwards.
Hermione appeared to be jolted and stopped in mid-stride. "Michael, you just ate!" she hissed, reminding Elizabeth of an irate cat.
Uncle Ron had wandered off somewhere along the way. Hermione took note off that, and Elizabeth realized he might not have to use his wand to vanish his food tonight. Most likely, he won't get any at all. Michael burst through Ollivanders like a man on a mission. Elizabeth was on his heels and bumped into him as he stopped suddenly.
The strangest man she had ever seen sat at the front of the store as if he was expecting them specifically. He was paler than parchment and looked as old as some too. His eyes were gleaming with silver. He looked blind at first but you knew distinctly that he could see you. He offered them a strange smile with those tortoise lips which Michael tried to return but failed.
Hermione huffed up behind them, clutching her chest slightly.
"Goodness me, the both of you are so hyper. Oh, hello Mr. Ollivander. How are you? It's been awhile," Hermione said, wheezing.
"But I remember it as if it was yesterday. Ten inches, birch, moonbeam thistle core. Quite interesting mix. Well-Rounded and strong," Ollivander said with a bit of a self- confident smirk.
"Yes, that's correct," whispered a thoroughly impressed Hermione.
"Of course it is. But your son looks he'd prefer unicorn hair to me. Just my impression. Or perhaps dragonheart string..It's in the Weasley family to be sure," he stated matter-of-factly as he began to rummage through the mountain of boxes.
Michael made a funny face at his mum, and she returned it. Elizabeth fought the urge to laugh. An outburst of laughter seemed inappropriate for the moment. He emerged some time later, wobbling along. Michael looked eager despite his initial uneasiness. I wish I was as brave as he was.
Ollivander fiddled with the box and succeeded in opening it with creaking fingers covered with white fuzz. His very essence was one of dust and ages of time, making her think of old libraries and attics. Hermione sneezed behind them and excused herself with some mild embarrassment.
Ollivander began his questioning, "Are you right-handed? Yes. Then try this one. Nine inches, willow, unicorn core. Hmm...nothing. Here's another. Alder wood. Ten and half inches. Dragonheart string. Good for Charms. Yes, that's a match for sure. And on the second try I might add! I've still got it!"
Sparks flew from Michael's new wand as a small flame emerged. Michael beamed with pride and held it up for his mum to see. Ollivander looked pleased and focused on Elizabeth. His mouth twitched.
The parched lips muttered, "Ah, Ms. Potter. I have something special for you." Then Ollivander rummaged through his cracked desk, muttering.
Elizabeth felt Michael questioning glance directed towards her back. That guy didn't have to say it like that. What does he mean anyhow? Ollivander dramatically plucked worn red father from a slot in his desk.
Hermione stiffened behind them. Awestruck, Hermione asked faintly, "Is that a phoenix feather? Is that Harry's wand's core!? How did you..."
Ollivander smiled mysteriously at her as if he was a child with a well-kept secret.
"It was found at the scene of the unpleasantness," he informed them eagerly. "Dumbledore was under the impression that it can still be used for a good strong core. I agree with him. Perhaps it is meant for young Ms. Potter here. And I have an interesting choice of wood as well. Indeed this is the only wood this feather will work with now. I've tried various combinations but it's very stubborn. Now, Ms. Potter, are you right-handed or left-handed?"
Elizabeth really felt uneasy now. She tried to think about her answer when Ollivander had asked Michael. At the orphanage, being left-handed was similar to having the bubonic plaque. She didn't want too much extra attention from the silver-eyed man. "They said at the orph-where I grew up that I am ambidextrous," she whispered. "I guess it could go either way."
Ollivander's eyes widened comically at this declaration like Christmas had come early.
He proclaimed grandly, "I have served very few with that disposition. Hmmm, this is actually the second time I have encountered this, Ms. Potter. You do me an honor indeed. You must choose your wand hand. But not right this moment. Find your strength as they say. Yes. Well, as I was saying, this feather responds to certain types of wood. This wood is a mixture of oak and elder. It is for the most part elder. This is a very promising tool for its wielder. Bewitching you might say. I had to use oak to stabilize this temperamental of wood. Have you heard the tale of Lord Compton and the Elder Witch? I've been to that site. This elder originated from that very tree. It's precisely twelve inches to the mark. Well-rounded indeed but focused on difficult magic work. Let's see. I just place the feather inside and seal it firmly. (The wand wiggled a bit in his grip) Give it a wave if you please, Ms. Potter."
Elizabeth decided to grasp it with her right hand as traditional called for. Sinister. Wicked. Dexter. Good. The moment her fingers brushed the wood she felt warmth invading her very soul. That small light inside lit up like a thousand candles. To the spectators in the room, it was a fantastic like show. Whizzing sparks flew in every direction, skimming the ceiling and knocking away a few hanging boxes. The lamps flickered on and off in response to the magic in the air. Hermione gasped and pulled Michael closer to her out of the way of the spinning sparks. The air was thick, and a small shape emerged from her wand as it did for Michael. She couldn't tell what it was but it had wings. Then it vanished with the atmosphere in the room steadily returning to normal.
The trio walked from the store in a tangible silence which was Elizabeth's least favorite condition. Mr. Ollivander had wrapped up their purchases, muttering about great things indeed. Elizabeth apologized fiercely for the state of the shop, but Mr. Ollivander wouldn't hear of it. She apparently had made the old man's day and quite possibly his life. He grinned like a mad man which sped the trio on their departure.
Michael kept casting her askance glances and refused to say anything to ease the tension. Surely he isn't jealous? What happened in there was creepy! That old man was creepy! Besides, he has an excellent wand. And excellent parents. And an excellent personality. Oh, blimey... Elizabeth shook her head and decided to ignore Michael as well.
If he was going to be this childish about the whole thing, well then that was fine with her. Two can play this game. Hermione noticed the silence and asked how they were enjoying their day. Michael cast a stare that was tinged with insolence at Elizabeth. She felt her smile drop as the strings that held it up were severed by her disappointment.
"Where is that father of yours, Michael?" Hermione bit out crisply while scanning the crowd with narrowed eyes. "Honestly, he hasn't grown up a bit! We're behind schedule now. Yes, Michael, I know you threw your schedule away. That was very silly of you, wasn't it? We'll have to rely on Elizabeth's schedule then. Thank you, Elizabeth, for being so responsible. Now, it's to Florish and Blotts for your books!"
Hermione's commentary didn't help the matter, and Elizabeth wished that she had thrown the blasted schedule in the rubbish bin as well. She focused on the flickering lights up ahead and reckoned she saw fairies inside. Elizabeth cherished the childhood joy of fairies and pixies and wanted to get a closer look. What would it be like if I was one of them? I guess I could enchant everyone to like me. Or I could just fly around, not worrying about anything at all. She was brought back to reality by a heart-wrenching explosion. Michael fell into her and brought her with him to the ground in a tangle of limbs. They were hauled back up by a surprisingly strong and frantic Hermione.
The protective mother shoved them in a side street and hissed, "Stay here and don't you dare think about moving an inch or it's your heads!" Then she charged in the direction of the explosion with her wand drawn.
People trampled by while running blindly, kicking up dust from the street. Some even fell and couldn't get up due to the panicking crowd. Screams screeched into the air and halted all human thoughts. Names were shouted as children got separated from their parents' desperate grasp. The air was hot now, stifling. It hurt so much to breathe. Michael made a motion to go after his mother, but Elizabeth grabbed his arm.
He bellowed at her, "Let go! That's my mum! She's pregnant for Cripes Sake! LET ME GO!!" He pushed her down hard and before she could collect herself, had disappeared in the mass of pushing bodies.
Oh my God, he's going to get killed. I have to go after him! I can't let him get hurt!!! She burst out from the alley and was instantly pushed back by a huge yelling man. As she dodged trying not to be pulled down by his barrels of legs, she banged into the wall and held her breath as more people flew by. Their faces were twisted in horrific expressions. Sticking close to the wall, she hurried past the boiling mass to the source of the chaos. Smoke billowed up from the side of the town and lights ripped into the sky. Green and red fought against each other, tearing one another viciously like animals thirsty for blood. There were people flying in the sky on brooms, casting spells upon the crowd. Judging from the screams along the smoking buildings, they were not friendly spells.
Then the screams grew silent as a huge figure filled the sky. It was a grinning skeleton with a serpent through its mouth. What Is THAT HORRIBLE THING?! Her heart could not beat right. It kept thudding against her, and she fell hard. Gripping the soil in her hands, she snarled up at the abomination. The shrieks of terror were nothing compared to as before. These were animalistic wails of utter anguish and despair. These wails penetrated her brain and her head pounded in response. The world continued to collapse as more buildings dissolved into ruin.
Elizabeth caught sight off another sign filling the smoldering sky, one that swallowed even the leering monstrosity. Thurisaz. Reversed Ansuz. Reversed Kenaz. Reversed Tiwaz. The sign of the Thorn blazed a path threw the sky. Then something incredible happened. The men on the brooms fled like the hounds of hell were nipping at their heels. In fact, all screams and all noise stopped.
It was quiet in the aftermath. It's like living in a necropolis. Elizabeth grabbed a window seal and pulled herself up. I have to find Hermione and Michael. Oh, please let them be alright! She found that she had somehow twisted her ankle in her last fall. Growling in frustration, she looked around wildly, gritting her teeth, biting her lips. Her legs fought against her and became numb and useless.
Some of the crowd had made past to the other side of town. Most had vanished with a crack as soon as the hooded men made their appearance. There in lies their power. Everyone's afraid of them. Cowards! She hobbled along, gripping the walls which were covered in a strange ashy powder. The taste of blood in her mouth kept her attached to this nightmare turned reality. The air was intolerable, burning her eyes and throat. Her palms made strange shapes in the dust. Then they disappeared as more powder quickly filled their spot. Her vision started to grow black around the edges. I CAN'T SEE!! Then the familiar darkness of unconsciousness took her violently as she fell with a thud on the cobbled path. Dust settled on her as well.
How Could This Happen, Dumbledore? She opened her eyes which stung as if poked by hot irons. She groaned at the pain which stabbed her chest, and Madam Pomfrey floated above her like an angel in heavenly garb.
"Oh Thank Heavens! You didn't inhale too much of the poison. OH THANK HEAVENS!" wailed the distraught nurse, clasping her gloved hands together.
Elizabeth interrupted her, yelling hysterically, "MICHAEL! HERMIONE! UNCLE RON! They're still there! GET THEM OUT!!" Her vision blurred ominously but she refused to give in. I have to help! I have to do something! Hands restrained her, forcing her back into the white covered around her.
"CALM YOURSELF CHILD! They're all well. They were taken to St. Mungo's for treatment. Albus insisted that you be brought here. Everyone made it though, Thank Heavens!" Madam Pomfrey had removed her hands, but Elizabeth found that she still could not remove herself from the vile bed.
Pomfrey thrust a vial at her. "Here take this potion. It will soothe the pain," she commanded in the fashion of a true dictator.
Elizabeth maneuvered her head away from the looming metal spoon in an act of defiance.
"Oh for goodness's sake, are you really going to make me force this down your throat?! I'd be justified to use Imperio on you! Don't make me go that far, Ms. Potter!" roared the nurse in a change of mood so sudden and unpredictable Elizabeth thought of Jekyll and Hyde.
Elizabeth didn't like the sound of the threat at all so she allowed the viscous liquid to slide down her throat. It tastes HORRIBLE! Her taste buds just perished forever in a single blow. Tears of disgust made their way down her dirty face. To her horror, sleep pushed its way in and faded the room to her dismay.
Lowered voices greeted her return to the living. The lamps flickering above illuminated the curtains around her. Two shadows covered the wall and played on the covers.
"How can this happen, Albus? He's dead. He has to be dead. You yourself saw him die at the hands of Harry Potter!" whispered a female voice. The voices did not notice that Elizabeth was awake. It was if she was a leave that had by chance fallen silently in the court yard.
"Poppy, there were some things Tom dabbled in that where beyond my conception. To my eyes, I saw him die; in my mind, I saw him die and accepted it. However, he always claimed immortality. He's seared it into his followers, that much is clear. Perhaps, they are being deceived by trickery; someone pretending to be the Dark Lord. Perhaps, their minds won't let him die. To them, he must exist in some form or another. Their raids have been becoming fiercer, bolder. They believe strongly in whatever it is, and it has pushed them towards insanity and damnation. These atrocities today are beyond those of any committed on both sides of the war. It was mindless slaughter. Muggleborns and half-bloods weren't the only ones who suffered losses today. The attack was so well organized. They slipped through the Ministry's security like it was child's play. Even when Voldemort was strong, he proved unable to accomplish such a feat. The Aurors did not have any warnings, any whispers of an attack. I would have never believed-and that mark," Dumbledore halted, apparently struck by an impacting thought.
"What is it, Albus?" pressed Madam Pomfrey tensely as if she really did not want to satisfy her curiosity.
"It has burned in the sky once before on the very night of the Potters' downfall. It's the mark that rose above the ruins of their home, not the Dark Mark. This mark comes from a different more ancient source, overshadowing the Dark Lord in its malevolence. The Death Eaters fled from it; they fear it as much as we. Fawkes has been disturbed of late. Hagrid's reported that all magical creatures are fleeing the area. Some are even starving themselves to escape it. They sense it in the wind. They sense that it's coming here."
The voices stopped, and the shadows stood motionless for awhile.
"Make sure Elizabeth fares well tonight," said Dumbledore in what Elizabeth perceived to be a fatherly fashion.
"I plan to stay with her," Madam Pomfrey stated resolutely even with some defiance as if he would dare suggest otherwise.
"That is for the best. I fear we'll have to heighten our security around the castle. She'll have to stay with us until the start of the new school year. Maybe others can rally here. I want to give them hope, Poppy." Then Dumbledore's footfalls made their way out of the hospital wing and left Elizabeth's imagination to hatch its own dark terrors.
Once again, she awoke to a voice, but this voice sent shivers of gripping cold down her spine. It was raspy and strained as if coming from the walls. She stared into the darkness with waves of numbness spreading throughout her body. Her side hurt in disapproval. The darkness was going to engulf her. She snapped her eyes shut and gripped her pillow tightly to the point where her fingers shot pain into her arm. Has it come now? There was a clinking as the curtains moved.
Elizabeth resigned herself to her fate; she looked up, gaping into the dark and afraid to breathe. She was afraid to move an inch. The bleak curtains remained in their place, forming a suffocating box around her. I'm in a tomb. They protected her but kept her in the dark about what had taken place. The moon light streamed through the glass window and gave life to the dead.
Every thing was too still as if waiting for something. Peering into the blue light, she saw the curtains move again, shimmering against limber fingertips. She needed a resolution; she needed this to end. Where's my wand? It was lying among the bowls and vials on the table near her bed. She had to get to it but that meant reaching through the curtains. She turned very slightly, hand moving towards her salvation. Her hand darted forward, felt cool wood, and retrieved her weapon.
The fingers on the curtain retreated, and she heard a crunching of glass and a swish of a cloak moving away from her fortress. The only way to survive this is to surprise them. Do exactly what they least expect. She ripped way the curtains and leapt into the air, holding her wand in front of her like a samurai warrior. Then she hissed in pain. Glass covered the ground. What?! All the former floating candles had fallen to the ground and were still in motion, rocking back and forth. How could I not have heard that?! She caught sight of a shadow in the corner and ventured closer with her wand in hand. It was Madam Pomfrey dozing lightly in a chair, and she too had slept through the noise.
Then she saw the smirking, tall boy who was leaning cockily against the doorway. He beckoned to her with his long fingers; he wanted her to follow him. His eyes still burned with the flames within him. A distorted smile was pasted on his face. A strange feeling raced across her spine and into her mind. Don't follow him! The untraceable command was simple and direct. She met the burning gaze of the arrogant boy and mouthed Not on your life.
Simply saying this angered him was an understatement. Vials flew through the air, aiming strategically at her face. She ducked, and they shattered behind her, leaving her in a shower of jagged, glistening glass. The cabinets shelving potions were pushed over by an invisible hand and exploded in splinters upon hitting the floor. Madam Pomfrey sprung out of her chair with a shriek. Elizabeth looked pitifully up at her from her circle of glass and saw that the boy was gone.
"WHAT ARE YOU ABOUT, CHILD?!" Pomfrey screamed. "WHY DID YOU DO THIS?!"
Elizabeth tried to speak but was interrupted by the abrupt arrival of Albus Dumbledore who survived chaos in the hospital wing over his moon- shaped spectacles.
Stunned at the violent scene, he asked quietly, "What has happened here? Poppy?"
Like a rag being wiped across a table, Pomfrey squeaked out, "She's destroyed my supply of potions and caused the disaster that you see before you. She's out of control, Dumbledore!"
Dumbledore hushed her with a look and directed his next enquiry toward Elizabeth.
"Is this true, Ms. Potter?"
"NO! I woke up and heard someone in the room. When I got up, the lights were out and then the glass exploded all around me," Elizabeth stated firmly, tactfully omitting the shade of the miserable boy that was haunting her.
Without a doubt, Dumbledore knew she was withholding something for him and stared at her sternly with disappointment heavily reflected in his blue eyes.
Madam Pomfrey gave a snort of disbelief, waving her hand dramatically at the door. "I assure you that no one could have gotten in here, Ms. Potter. I charmed the door myself. There was only you and I in this room. Now tell the truth!"
Dumbledore commented that the door was indeed open and that is why he entered the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey flushed and began to pick up the spare pieces of glass. Elizabeth winced as she examined her wounded feet. Glass with flecks of her blood still remained embedded in her skin of her trembling hands. The blood that had come from her wounded feet made the slick floor hard to stand on, and she slipped back onto the bed, getting tangled in the curtains.
Dumbledore approached her quickly and examined her feet, looking pained at their bloody condition. He gingerly held them in his soft, wrinkled hands and muttered a spell just out of her hearing. She felt a warm tingling and knew her feet had been healed. He sought out her eyes, questioning her silently. Elizabeth quickly pretended to be busily examining her feet. He sighed with disappointed and slowly straightened up, his back creaking a bit. She kept her head down and followed his shadow that crossed towards the shattered windows with her eyes.
Madam Pomfrey never ceased in her mutinous murmurings that grew into an angry buzzing around Elizabeth's head. Dumbledore surveyed the grounds, his face fraught with worry. He turned to Pomfrey and Elizabeth who both were waiting for his verdict.
"I must summon the Order and faculty immediately. The barrier around Hogwarts has been weakened considerably by-something," he said gravely.
Madam Pomfrey gasped in disbelief. "It cannot be. That barrier has existed since the time of Godric Gryffindor. It remains as long as this castle stands."
Dumbledore stood in silence near the open windows, draped in moonlight. He looked so very tired as if he was about to fade away in the pale light from all his futile attempts to maintain order and peace. His failures were eating him away from the inside. He left the room while maintaining his gloomy silence.
Madam Pomfrey turned to Elizabeth, suspicion still etched fixedly into her usually friendly face. Pomfrey couldn't help but think 'Ever since she came here, things have been going badly.' Poppy forced her face into a friendly grimace and quietly ushered Elizabeth out into the damp halls. The nurse's mouth was scarlet due to her nervously biting her lips; it looked like blood from a knife wound.
"It would be best if you remained in Gryffindor tower for the rest of the evening. For your safety. I'll accompany you," Madam Pomfrey said dryly, locking the hospital wing with her wand.
Elizabeth was glad she had someone to walk down the ominous corridors. However, she retracted that thought when Madam Pomfrey continued to drill holes in the back of her head with her sharp eyes. A hotness rose in her throat, and her body tensed from confusion and her sore feet. They couldn't have reached the portrait of the Fat Lady any sooner. Elizabeth hurried inside, wincing as the cold floor made contact with her bare feet. The portrait closed with a click, and she distinctly heard conspiring whispers on the other side. She waited a few seconds and then tried to open the portrait to no avail. She was locked in for the night.
Her chest hurt from the distrust the kindly nurse had directed at her. It pierced through her like a cold knife. It brought on an onslaught on negative thoughts in its wake, opening a flood gate. She remembered Michael's quiet resentment and Hermione's disbelieving gaze. She remembered Fleur's distasteful scrutiny and the exchange of judgment through her glances with Angelina. Most of all, she remembered Dumbledore's fierce disappointment, and at this bitter memory, she threw herself heavily onto the red couch by the fire. The fire burned in tune with her anxiety. She was lulled to sleep by its dance and failed to notice the searing gaze from the dark corner of the room. He sneered at her and threw out words in her direction. Soon, little one, it will come to pass. Very soon.