Chapter Ten

Dedicated to the mouse in Meredith's room and to her, for finally defeating the evil overlord rodent!

Albus's dumbfounded look would have been rather funny- had I not had exactly that same look etched on my features. It was true, I had not got a clue why I knew that "his" first name was Mark- but it was just as true that I was sure. We were looking for a "Mark" here, so no Frenchman. Period.

"Minerva, how can you know for sure-"

On that moment, I could have positively slapped Albus. A familiar knot inside of my stomach announced a temper flare coming up, and I sent him one of my already famous angry glares. He was not exactly helping, and after all, even if I wasn't sure, it was the only indication we had.

"I don't know, but I am sure, Albus. Will you, please, trust me?"

His nod was exactly what I needed, and the next moment already, I let out a rather guilty sigh, looking up to Albus with a faint smile.

"I'm sorry, Albus. I just don't know what or where or- this is all kind of confusing, you know?"

The next moment, his arms were around me and my head rested against his chest. The steady beating of his heart beneath my ear comforted me, and it was not without a happy smile that I took up the book again.

"Now I suggest we read the rest of the pages. There's not much chance that we will find this man's name here, of course, but we'll read them anyway, and then-"

Here, I shut up, glancing up at the man beside me. He did not answer my gaze, though- and right in time I swallowed another sharp remark of mine. He was not ignoring me, after all- the look in his clear, blue eyes was not one of disinterest, merely of- of pensiveness.

"Albus?"

My tone of voice was soft, yet inquiring- and for the first time in my life, I realized a truth which would stay with me through many years to come.

Sometimes a whisper is stronger than a yell.

Almost immediately, Albus's eyelids fluttered and his eyes regained the kind, friendly look I was so used to seeing- and the smile on his lips was exactly what I wanted to see. Finally.

I had wondered many times why I seemed to know more about my past counterpart than he did, after all. He had tried to explain that to me by saying that it was only natural, that Scottish people were always more talented for the supernatural, but I knew very well that that was rubbish. I was not talented for the supernatural, and never had been either.

The only reason I had good grades for Divination- and I say the only one- was, because my teacher somehow seemed to believe it would bring her bad luck to give me bad grades. The woman had once tried to read my future in a crystal ball, had muttered something about "losing her job in the future" and has since then always been nice to me.

Looking back now- well, perhaps the woman had something of a gift after all.

Anyway, as soon as I looked up to Albus and mirrored his smile by one of my own, I knew he had remembered something. As he started turning the pages, not in a searching, but in a more- purposeful way, I knew I had not been mistaken.

"He must have been executed with Anne, Minerva. He was in love with her and she with him, so it's almost certain that he was one of the five men who were executed with her- her so-called "lovers". Only one of them was named Mark."

And all of a sudden, I remembered the full contents of a history lesson I had learnt at a very young age.

When Anne Boleyn had died, not even thirty years of age, she had been accused of treason and adultery. Adultery with five people- her own brother George, three courtiers, and-

And a court musician, I knew.

An auburn-haired, tall, wiry court musician, with kind, blue eyes and a cheerful smile.

I lowered my eyes to the page in front of me, reading the two words indicated by Albus's long finger.

"Mark Smeaton"