Chapter 3
Disturbing Discoveries
"Erwina the Enigmatic, while being a brilliant witch, preferred to socially disengage herself in favour of experimenting with odd spells and potions in the comfort of her own home. Erwina would later discover one of the key ingredients to the Truth Tonic, the base of what would later become the stronger and more complex Veritaserum. Through 1823 to 1844, she traveled into the depths of the Amazon rainforest in hopes of finding a cure for-"
I slammed my book shut, letting out a deep and audible sigh. I had been released from the hospital wing an hour ago, only to find two days worth of assignments faithfully awaiting my return. Clearly, Madam Pomfrey had forgotten what it was like to be a student when she gave strict orders of "avoiding mentally strenuous activities".
I propped up my elbows on the table, burying my face in my hands. There was no way I could complete Pierpoint's essay on Blinding hexes, write a detailed explanation of Summoning Charms, describe the most effective methods to capture an escaped magical creature in a Muggle environment, and have a good studying session for a History of Magic quiz. A mild pulsating started in the back of my head, intensifying with each passing moment.
"You're lucky it's not OWL year," a voice taunted in a good-natured tone.
"Don't remind me, Sirius," came my muffled reply from under my hands. I was beyond tired, and anyone could tell it was way past midnight without looking up at the clock.
"Come on, I'll help you," he offered, pulling up a seat beside me.
"This is the third time you've sneaked into the Ravenclaw common room. Someone's bound to catch you this time."
"It's nearly 2 o'clock in the morning, and the portraits have all gone off somewhere," he answered casually, snatching up a spare quill and parchment. "Besides," he added with a sly grin, "you really need the help."
"Oh, alright, alright," I muttered through a yawn, reopening my History of Magic book. But no matter how much I squinted into the mass of tiny black letters, they refused to form coherent words and phrases in my line of vision. Drowsiness set in, and I was no longer able to keep my head up.
"Sirius…I'm just going to rest my eyes for a bit…wake me up in five minutes, okay?" I mumbled as I set my head down against the cool surface of the table.
"Got it," my cousin replied, the faint and metrical scratching of his quill lulling me into a deep sleep. The still-raging fireplace cast a fiery glow over his face, reminding me of the bloodline that had blessed us with such refined attractiveness. It was often said that what we Blacks lacked in empathy was made up for in looks. Clearly, Sirius was not compensating for anything. He was reliable and warm, the only real friend I had throughout all these years of routine studying and restrictive social interactions. The typical Ravenclaw cleverness, no matter how high of a dosage it came in did not involve matters of the heart. I had never felt a deep connection with any of my housemates as I did with my cousin. Yes, he would've made a fine Ravenclaw. However, he did not rely solely on cold logic and facts to get through life. That was what set him apart, and both the Sorting Hat and I knew this very well.
The question was; where was my place? Without the hard ambition and determination most of my family possessed for a one-way ticket to Slytherin, was I to be another generic Ravenclaw, doomed to a life of meticulous calculations and strict realism? If so, how could I have such a different mindset from those that had been chosen to be in the same house as I? A true Ravenclaw would have better sense than to take a break from completing overdue homework. A true Ravenclaw would not let tolerate rule-breaking and sneaking around in the middle of the night, even if the person involved was one of their dearest friends. Last of all, a true Ravenclaw would think twice before befriending Muggle-borns at the risk of being permanently disowned from their family.
But here I was, working my way through a stack of papers with a snuck-in visitor in the wee hours of the morning. A visitor who was a quick burn spell away from being a faceless stranger rather than family.
For the sake of my academic career, I needed to stop wracking my brain for impossible answers. With one last tired blink, I fell into a deep sleep.
A persistent shaking of my shoulders brought me awake, and I could hear a slightly whiny voice nagging away in the background. For a minute, I had considered grabbing my wand and firing off a Banishing Charm into whoever was behind me.
"Alright, I'm up," I snapped groggily, wanting to slap away those infernal hands.
"It's about time," Eunice Hodgekinson proclaimed, taking a step back. "I would hate for Professor McGonagall to lower her opinion on us Ravenclaws because someone slept in."
I frowned. The Banishing Charm sounded very good just about now.
Eunice, however, continued her incessant chattering. "But don't fret, you haven't missed breakfast yet. And it looks like whatever you did last night paid off, too. All your work seems to be done…of course, we being Ravenclaws, it should always be done. We have a reputation to uphold you know, the great Rowena Raven-"
What lingering thoughts of going back to sleep instantly vanished from my mind.
"What? It's done?!" I demanded loudly, springing up from my chair. Stacked neatly upon the tabletop were beautifully completed assignments, along with my course books and a few melted stumps of candles.
"Well, of course it's done," Eunice announced impatiently, putting her hands on her hips. "It's there, isn't it?"
I groaned, gripping my forehead with one hand. I had fallen asleep last night, and Sirius had done everything for me. Guilt and embarrassment swelled up inside of me, taking the place of my hunger existing just moments before. Under Eunice's quizzical stare, I gathered up my belongings and hurried out of the common room.
The Great Hall was packed and buzzing with noise by the time I set foot into it, the sweet aroma of various breakfast dishes wafting around me. My hunger struck back with a force, and I decided that speaking to someone on a full stomach would provide better conversation. I sat down and immediately began to scoop scrambled eggs on to an empty plate when flocks of owls soared in for their daily delivery.
Then I remembered. The Daily Prophet. Voldemort. Upheavals at the Ministry of Magic. I was desperate to find out what I had missed in the last couple of days.
I ripped the package out of the delivery owl's talons before it could touch down next to me, earning myself an angry hoot and a slightly shredded newspaper. I shoved the Knuts into its leg pouch without another thought, flattening out the parchments and desperately taking in its crisply printed contents.
PUREBLOOD RADICAL VOLDEMORT LEAVES ANOTHER OMINOUS MESSAGE
23 September – The once crystal-clear waters of Beechbirch Lake have been made a thing of the past by the latest wave of the Pureblood radical Voldemort's troublesome messages.
Inhabitants of the small forest village awoke to discover their beautiful lake completely dried up, transformed into a muddy wasteland of dead nautical creatures of all shapes and sizes. Several villagers burst into tears at the grisly sight of suffocated merpeople, and cauldrons of the Calming Draught were brewed at haste to accommodate the severely distressed.
But the most shocking discovery of all was the message left by the perpetrators; gigantic letters dug deeply into the sodden lake bottom for all to see.
PURITY HAS BEEN THE ESSENCE OF POWERFUL MAGIC THROUGHOUT CENTURIES OF MAGICAL HISTORY
ONLY THOSE WHO BELIEVE IN UPHOLDING HONORABLE TRADITIONS WILL PREVAIL IN THE END
WE WILL NOT BE DEPRIVED OF WHAT IS RIGHTFULLY OURS TO TAKE
Like the last two messages the perpetrators left in Little Hangleton and Barnton, this one was enchanted to be indelible despite the waterlogged conditions of the lakebed and had a strange, unsettling symbol of a skull with a serpent for a tongue engraved at the bottom of the message.
"Oh, it's absolutely terrible," Martha Lornby, long-time resident of Beechbirch sobbed as she pointed down at what was left of the lake. "They've already shown very little regard for creatures that can just as well feel pain as the rest of us. What's stopping them from doing the same to us?"
"They sneak up like rats to our village in the middle o' the night an' destroy one o' the oldest monuments we've ever had. Cowards, all o' them!" Julius Henderson, another resident voiced his severe disdain for the desecration of the lake as he took a sip of the Calming Draught.
"Our team of qualified Aurors will take whatever drastic measures necessary to apprehend these radicals," Mr. Bartemius Crouch Sr., head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement announced to a team of waiting reporters at the Ministry of Magic as he returned from Beechbirch.
But so far, none of the criminals have been successfully taken into custody. Despite the Ministry of Magic being bombarded with owls shortly after the Beechbirch incident, Millicent Bagnold, Minister for Magic was unavailable to comment. So far, no witnesses have appeared to be present in all three of the troubling incidents. The Magical Law Enforcement Squad has set up networks to take any tips regarding the radicals, and encourages mass cooperation to "procure much-needed safety back into our beloved community of diverse magic."
Hazel McTavish – The Daily Prophet
I set the paper down in disbelief. The level of noise skyrocketed in the Great Hall, all attention being diverted to discussing the morning's events instead of food. I looked up at the High Table to see all the teachers minus Professor Marks somberly whispering amongst themselves, and also missing from their usual seats were Dumbledore and McGonagall.
A jolt of apprehension prickled through me. The biggest worry I had three days ago was Bellatrix sticking a wand into my back and out of nowhere, things had turned for the worse. I hated this feeling of such helplessness and worry, hating my own anticipation of what news of the Pureblood extremists would be printed in the next edition of the Daily Prophet.
I got up from my seat, rushing out of the Great Hall with my book bag slung across my shoulder. I couldn't stand being around this nonsense for another minute. My mind was a complete jumble as I walked up three flights of stairs without paying attention to direction. Pureblood extremist threats, OWL preparations, falling behind in the last couple of days, Bellatrix and Narcissa…everything was just so stifling and complicated that considering even one option to try and solve things seemed to bring about a whole mix-up of problems itself.
I peered down the corridor, and was thankful for its deserted state. I desperately needed some time alone before class, even if it meant locking myself in the girls' bathroom. I streaked around a corner only to catch a glimpse of something black, but it was too late.
A loud "OUCH!" sounded out from the dark figure as my face and upper body slammed into it, followed by the clatter of my book bag and more heavy objects crashing against the stone floor. I stumbled back clumsily, bright white spots clouding my vision.
"You okay?" I mumbled without meaning it, furiously blinking as I attempted to gather up my scattered books and papers.
"You shouldn't fly around corners like that. A bit of a health hazard, wouldn't you say?" a male voice called out in a slightly condescending tone, grating the last of my worn-out nerves.
"Oh, shut up. The only health hazard here is you endangering someone with your stupidity," I snapped without thinking, only to regret it as the words fell from my mouth. What was wrong with me today?
An uncomfortable silence dropped over the near-empty corridor, and I was grateful for my curtain of dark hair shielding my face from view as I bent over my strewn belongings. I opened my mouth to apologize.
"Listen, that was-"
"Andromeda?" the boy suddenly interrupted in a surprised, yet uncertain tone. "Andromeda Black?"
I looked up instantly, letting my hair fall back over my shoulders. Crouched down in front of me, holding a bundle of quills in mid-air was Ted Tonks. His dark brown eyes met mine, and seemed to widen a little.
"I seem to be causing you a great deal of harm this week," he said dryly, trying to suppress his grin.
"No, no…it-it's my fault for being in such a rush, and that Pouchplant incident was purely an accident," I blurted out nervously, haphazardly shoving things into my bag.
"Quite a mess," Ted mused, rising up and slinging his very bulky bag over one shoulder.
"Well, organizing everything all over again will have to wait since I'm going to be late for Transfigura-"
"That's not what I meant. I mean you," he replied nonchalantly, dusting off his robes.
"Excuse me?" I enunciated, shooting him a bewildered look. I didn't know whether to take offense or to simply goggle at him in disbelief.
"You are a mess, Andromeda. I mean, I know you're naturally pale and all but you've taken it to a whole new level. You've got these awful circles under your eyes…looking rather peaky, I must say. And you had this funny glazed look in your eyes when I bumped into you. You feeling alright?"
Good Lord. Just how bad did I look if a boy I barely knew was dissecting my physical appearance out of nowhere?
"Yes…I think. Good day, Tonks," I managed to say as I brushed past him, unsure of what to make of the situation. Either this entire school was going mad, or I was.
I walked into the small bathroom, and was instantly taken aback by my dreadful reflection in the large, gleaming mirror set above the sink. My normally smooth curls were frizzed and out of control, while my lips were dry and chapped like desiccated leaves. Dark circles indeed hung below my eyes, startlingly contrasting with the deathly pallid tone of my skin. The memory of not eating since dinner last night and falling asleep rather awkwardly with my head and arms sprawled over a table flashed back to me. Hopefully, my neglect to bathe and change out of my old robes this morning would not create any unpleasant smells.
I splashed cold water on my face, hoping to at least be rid of my dazed and haggard expression. The sudden chill was refreshing, and as much as I hated to admit it, refreshing as Ted Tonks' brutal honesty. My reflection grinned back at me as I smoothed down my unruly hair with damp hands.
A sudden babble of voices and footsteps broke into my thoughts, putting my lethargic mind back on high alert. The volume of the noise grew outside of the bathroom door, and I instantly recognized the loud, ringing voices of two of the most obnoxious Slytherin girls that I had the misfortune of coming across a few times. Hiding was the first thing that came to mind.
I dashed into the very end stall just as the bathroom door squeaked open, the piercing drawls of the girls' speech clearer than ever. I climbed up on the closed toilet bowl lid, reaching out and shutting the stall door just as the chattering duo took their place at the mirrors. I stood up slowly, and poked my head just above the high stall barrier. Thankfully, the Slytherins seemed too occupied to notice.
"Did you see Henrietta Schmidt's face as she read the paper this morning?" Hilda Oxley inquired with a nasty smirk, gazing haughtily into her less-than extraordinary self in the mirror.
Phyllis Strayworth, the shorter of the two let out a screech of laughter, producing a brush from her book bag and running it through her severely cropped, chin-length hair.
"The Mudblood looked as if she was going to cry," she replied viciously with an unpleasant gleam in her eyes.
"Lucky for her, she could've just mopped her tears with the Daily Prophet. At least the ink stains would cover up that disgusting acne of hers," Hilda muttered, as Phyllis' overbearing shrieks of cruel mirth drowned out her own laughter. With a satisfied sneer, she turned her gaunt, bony face in her friend's direction.
"I heard something interesting about Frederick Nott," she hissed, as Phyllis leaned closer. I, too, craned my neck for a better listen. Any information that Slytherins were only willing to divulge among themselves was worth hearing.
"It seems like Nott has been rather happy in spreading news about his dear old dad," Hilda continued in a bemused tone. "He's suddenly declaring what an eager supporter of Voldemort and his followers he and his dad are, and how they see great fortune in supporting their cause. Of course, he's only mouthing this off in the common room to not get the snot kicked out of him by the Mudbloods and their mates. You know, especially since those half-fish gits in Beechbirch Lake literally bit the dust," she added spitefully, to Phyllis' obvious delight.
"But the strangest thing was, I saw him show off the package he was owled this morning to a bunch of sixth-years behind the statue of Frieda the Fickle. And you know what the strange thing was?"
She paused to give her friend a wry, twisted grin.
"Go on," Phyllis urged impatiently, gaping at her in unrestrained curiosity.
"If it's what I think it was…it was a mermaid pendant," Hilda declared, to Phyllis' great shock and mine. "I'm thinking Nott's old man took a little trip last night and brought back a souvenir for his boy."
"How do you know it was a mermaid pendant?" Phyllis asked, completely awestruck.
Hilda was evidently pleased by the undivided attention, and coolly flipped back her lackluster blonde hair.
"I have this crackpot of a great-uncle who's completely fanatical about his job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and he made me read a book on nautical creatures when I had to stay over at his house during the summer. I just remembered some of the stuff, that's all. From where I was standing, that thing in Nott was dangling in front of the sixth-years' faces was an authentic pendant that can only be forged by merpeople," she proclaimed proudly, probably delighted at the fact that she could remember something from a literary source other than Betty's Beautiful Bargains Catalogue.
"Wow," Phyllis said breathily, clinging to Hilda's every word. By now, her eyes had widened to the size of saucers. "Does that mean-"
"Yes, Nott's father got a hold of a mermaid pendant, and he didn't exactly dive to the bottom of Beechbirch Lake to get it," Hilda interrupted exasperatingly, giving her friend a rather pointed look. Phyllis paid no heed and sniggered, which soon escalated into deep, unabashed guffaws.
A deep, hollow feeling resonated in the pit of my stomach.
I waited until the Slytherins departed, and then stepped down from the toilet bowl. A mixture of astonishment, anger, and fear continued to churn inside of me as I stepped out into the hallway, which was now filled with near-tardy students rushing to their first class. I, on the other hand, maintained my slow shuffle to my Transfiguration class. McGonagall gave me a stern look as I entered the room, and I could barely hear her lecture of my first-ever lateness as I sat down.
The questioning glances of other Ravenclaws seemed so far away as I mulled over the eavesdropped exchange between Hilda and Phyllis in the girls' bathroom. It had been less than a week since Voldemort and his group of Pureblood fanatics made their first appearance, and already the effects of their noxious and wicked grasp had reached Hogwarts. Would the parents of the other Slytherins join up with Voldemort as well, sending mementos of their grisly conquests to their children? Would Sirius' parents and mine be among them?
For the first time in my life, there was something else to fear besides my family.