Five
Hogsmeade
1890
It was a slow day in the Hog's Head Tavern. Two trolls sat in the corner, nursing large mugs of faintly-smoking beverages, and several secretive-looking Goblins sat by the fire, muttering in low tones over their brandy coffees. By the light of the one good window sat an old woman checking off items on a shopping list, with a half-drunk bottle of butterbeer beside her elbow, which was growing warm in the strong sunlight. And at the bar sat a tall, thin man, wearing rather glaring purple, red and gold robes which, combined with his long red hair and full red beard, made for quite a colourful display. He sat at the bar chatting gaily with the more taciturn barkeep, also a tall, thin man but with a long red ponytail and a neatly-waxed goatee. Although their styles were very different, it was not difficult to tell that the two men were related, if not twins.
"So the three hags go into the bar with the vegetarian vampire, and -- " Albus Dumbledore paused in the telling of his slightly-ribald joke, and turned towards the door, which he had just heard swing open. He recognized the newcomer and smiled widely. "Lazerus Grindelwald! I was just asking Aberforth about you earlier! We were wondering where you'd got to."
"Just working, my dear old friend," said Grindelwald, as he smoothly swung onto a bar stool next to Albus. "Working like a house elf, truth be told. Ah, but what discoveries I have made!" He turned and smiled at Dumbledore. "If you have time today, old friend, you will have to come visit me, and I shall show you the fruits of my labours. I find I am in dire need of your advice, and assistance." He nodded at Aberforth as the man silently placed a glass of firewhiskey in front of him.
"I shall be delighted to help, Lazerus," said Albus with concern. "But what of yourself? You look fairly exhausted." Albus studied his friend carefully, noting his pallor and the lines of exhaustion around his eyes. Even Grindelwald's attire, usually so carefully attended to, was lacking today. He wore black velvet trousers tucked into black leather riding boots, a flowing and voluminious white cotton blouse, and a long, black velvet cloak, lined with silver. Unusually for Lazerus, however, the shirt was wrinkled, and the pants and cloak were dusty. The boots could have used a polishing. Albus noted that Lazerus looked to have two or three days of beard, and his hair could do with a wash and a trim. All in all, his friend did not present his normal immaculate appearance. Dumbledore was faintly alarmed.
"Oh, I am exhausted, Albus, yes indeed," replied Lazerus cheerfully. "But with good results! I have lately returned home from a speaking engagement in a most exotic land, and while there, discovered the most marvellous tomes -- " He broke off, as the front door slammed open, and an odd-looking young woman stumbled into the bar, breathing heavily. Everyone turned to look at her.
Her attire and style was odd enough -- her eyes were a strange shade of amber, her unbound taffy-coloured curls lay in disarray around her chubby face, and she wore some odd kind of hooded blue tunic, with a narrow strip of metal running down the middle of the front of it. On her legs were light blue trousers, which was shocking enough, and she wore unusual-looking black-and-white shoes. She was bruised and bleeding, and cradling her right hand protectively, upon which she sported a large, pointed pewter-coloured ring. She looked ill, injured.
Everyone in the bar stared at her. She, in turn, stared at the patrons lining the bar and mumbled dazedly, "Oh my God...it's you..." Fiercely, she used her left arm to hold up her right hand, which she pointed at the confused Grindelwald.. "You are under arrest! You have the right to remain silent...anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law...you have the right to an attorney..." Her voice grew fainter, however, and in the next moment, she collapsed, her head spinning.
"I say, what are you about, young miss?", asked Grindelwald in astonishment. "Are you mad?" He rose from his stool.
As she faded to unconsciousness, she heard her great-great-great-great-grandfather say, "What in the middle fourteenth hell ...?" Then all was dark.
xxx
"Well, you must admit, Aberforth, that certainly did liven up your day some."
"Very funny." Lucie heard the familiar growl, which made her smile. Before she opened her eyes, she reached with all her senses, to determine her surroundings. Lumpy mattress...stale-smelling air...she opened her eyes to see Albus and Aberforth bending over her in one of the small rooms that Aberforth rented out. With a start, she realized that the room was the same one that she had lived in -- or would live in, rather -- when she would come to live with her grandfather. Judging from what she had seen of Albus' and Aberforth's appearances, she would not be a regular occupant of this room for several years yet. And Grindelwald appeared to look much as he had in the drawing that she had seen. With any sort of luck, she was close to the same time in which the third student was.
"She's awake," muttered Aberforth unneccessarily. "Give her a drink of this. See if it clears her head."
"This will clear anyone's head -- and their sinuses," said Albus, amused. Lucie felt herself being lifted to a sitting position, and the harsh sting of firewhiskey on her lips. She burst out into a fit of coughing and choking, and blindly pushed the drink away from her.
"Swill," she muttered. "Make me sick. Don't like alcohol." She heard Aberforth snort in outrage.
"Then bloody well take your scummy hide out of my bar, you crazed nincompoop!"
"Nincompoop?" She chuckled weakly.
"Tut, tut, Aberforth," said Albus kindly. "No need to be rude. Here you go, miss. We've patched up your injuries, including your wrist. It appeared to be broken. Here, have another sip -- it will calm you."
"No...no, thank you..." Lucie gasped, her eyes watering. "What...what day is it?" She curled her legs up underneath her, realizing that she was no longer aching and bleeding in a hundred places. Her wand hand was as good as new, and she flexed the fingers experimentally. If only her head would stop spinning -- she'd never liked portkeys at the best of times, and this latest trip certainly didn't fall under the "best" category. Bloody nightmare, more like it.
"Why, it's Monday," said Albus.
"What date?"
"August twenty-first."
Lucie glared at him. "What year?"
"Oh my," said Albus in dismay. "You did rather take a blow to the head, didn't you?"
"What year is it?"
"Why, it's eighteen-ninety. What year were you expecting it to be?" Albus frowned at her. Beside him, Aberforth muttered something about having a bar to tend and not having time to waste on lunatics and nincompoops, and stomped out of the small room.
"Eighteen-ninety...my God..." She covered her face with her hands, peeking at Albus through her fingers. "You've got to be crapping with me."
"Watch your language, please."
Lucie stared at him for a long moment, then grinned. "You never change, do you."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Oh...ah, nothing. Hey!" She stood up suddenly, and the room spun around her. Lucie reached out blindly and grabbed the bureau that would still be beside the bed nearly a hundred years later. "Hey! Where's Grindelwald?"
Dumbledore stood and caught her elbow. He stared at her quizzically. "Lazerus is behind the bar, keeping an eye on things for Aberforth. What were you saying earlier? About him being under arrest?"
"What?" Lucie stared at the weirdly-young version of her great-great-great-great uncle, nonplussed. Then she remembered what she had said before her collapse. Shaken, she sat down on the edge of the bed again, ignoring Albus's questioning glance.
What was she going to do? Clearly, whatever obscure bit of magic that had returned David Garrett's body, had caught her up and brought her to this time, and in fact had dumped her in the middle of the dry, dusty street, from about fifteen feet in the air. No wonder she'd hurt her wrist. She'd probably hit her head at the same time. Lucie wondered why it had not brought her straight to Grindelwald's house, but then she realized -- he'd been using the magic to send something back to her time, not bring something back to his. She shook her head. It was just lucky that she'd arrived in one piece, considering. Now that she thought about it, it was lucky that all three students had survived their trip into the past. Initially, anyway.
But what to do now? Here she was, stranded a hundred years in the past, attempting to -- to what?
Arresting this Grindelwald -- that was out of the question, really. What had she been thinking? Maybe Aberforth was right, maybe she was a nincompoop. But she wasn't here to interfere with history. Hell, she shouldn't be here at all. But since she was...she owed it to the third student -- Olsen Carter, wasn't it? -- to try to rescue him, and to somehow return to their own time.
But how to do that? She couldn't interfere with the past -- that could have untold ramifications upon the present. But just being here could be problem enough -- her very presence could affect history. And she didn't know enough about this Grindelwald to know how to proceed. He was the wild card, to be sure, and he held the ace up his sleeve. Olsen Carter. A jolt of panic hit her -- Caroline Skyland had said that they had answered any questions that this Grindelwald had asked them. Questions about the future, about themselves, where they came from... So history was already interfered with. Damn.
Grimacing, Lucie rubbed the bridge of her nose. She could feel a headache coming on, and she sighed in frustration. She wished Simon were here. If she wasn't careful, her first case was going to be her last case -- she needed to handle this on her own, and quite frankly, she was terrified. This was so far beyond anything in her experience.
Build a bridge and get over it, kid.
"Are you all right, miss?" Albus placed a warm, comforting arm around her shoulders, and Lucie felt a warmth flood her gut. How many times had he done that, over the years? She longed to throw herself into her uncle's arms, but some shred of common sense prevailed. He had no idea who she was, after all. He'd probably think she was a lunatic.
Breathing deeply, she looked up into the bright blue eyes of her beloved uncle. And then she realized something. Regardless what happened, both Aberforth and Albus were alive in her own time! The ultimate stroke of luck. If worse came to worst, she could tell them the truth. She felt certain that they could be relied upon for discretion, and wisdom. Assuming they believed her, that is.
"Miss?" Albus repeated, giving her that same piercing blue stare that she had grown up with. A sudden thought struck her.
"Are you a legilimens?", she asked, not caring that it could be considered a personal, and somewhat rude, question. In her own time, Albus was a legend at that art, but had he learned it yet, in this time?
Albus smiled. "Yes, I am. Although while I have studied extensively, I have not yet reached the point where I can intrude upon another's mind without their knowledge, or their permission, even. Why do you ask?"
She shrugged. "Just wondering." Then she smiled, weakly. "I need to get cleaned up, I look like crap. Could you give me a hand with transfiguration? I'm still not feeling well. Let me try first, though."
"What are you going to transfigure?"
"Myself." With a tap of her beringed wand hand, Lucie's clothes did a sluggish change into long, everyday black robes. She ran her fingers through her messy curls and muttered a quick incantation -- her hair arranged itself into an elegant updo. Another incantation, and she swept her hands in front of her -- the dirt and dust and dried blood disappeared, leaving her with the tingly clean feeling that she always experienced after a bathing spell.
"There -- did I get everything?"
Albus looked her over critically, and used his wand to tap the back of her robes...she had missed a few spots. "There you go. And now for your shoes..."
"No, those are fine," she said, hastily. She had no intention of trying to get around in nineteenth-century footwear. Her feet were too accustomed to the comfort of her Chuck Taylors. Taking another deep breath, Lucie checked her reflection in the mirror, and smiled slightly. She looked like a little girl playing dress up in her mother's robes. Then she turned back to face her uncle, who was studying the ring on her hand curiously. His blue eyes flicked up to lock on her golden ones, disconcertingly astute.
"I can't offer you any explanations yet, unfortunately. Not yet.," She said, pulling her hand away. "But I can tell you that I'm here from...from...well, another place...to conduct some investigations." She sat down beside Albus, and took his hand gently in her other hand, the one not wearing the enhancer ring. While he looked surprised, he did not withdraw it from hers.
"It's my mission to save an innocent life, and then return to my own ti-- er, place. Along with that innocent person, if at all possible. I'm not here to hurt anyone, or to interfere with anyone. However -- and I tell you this in complete confidentiality -- the wizard, Lazerus Grindelwald, may be instrumental in my mission."
"I see," said Albus, faintly. "And why -- excuse me for my rudeness, but why are you telling me this information?"
"I'm gonna need your help."
Albus gave her a piercing look. "What kind of help?"
"I need to get into this Grindelwald's house, to search for this innocent person. I need Grindelwald to help us return to our time -- I mean, our home. I need you to help me achieve this. Is he your friend?"
"Why, yes," said Albus. "We've been friends for years. He was at Hogwart's with me, a few years above me. Lazerus is a great wizard -- one of the finest! But you make it sound as though he was involved with something sinister." He looked dismayed. Lucie chose her words carefully.
"He may be."
"But what?" Albus's hand tightened on hers. "How can you expect me to believe you -- I do not even know who you are, and --"
Lucie leaned close to him. "If you can't trust me on my words alone, then you will have to perform legilimens on me. But I would prefer that you didn't. It's crucial, to your own well-being, that I reveal as little to you as possible. I'm trying to look out for you, and for Aberforth." She gazed deep into his eyes, willing him to believe her. She didn't want to burden him with more knowledge of the future than was necessary.
Albus stared back at her for a long, long moment. "I don't even know your name," he whispered.
"It's Lu -- er, Nigel -- Nigella." She paused. "Nigella Nickerson." She held his gaze for a long moment.
"Albus Dumbledore," he said, softly, giving her hand another squeeze. "But, Nigella...why are you really here? And from where? And -- most importantly, I believe -- when?"
She smiled sadly. "I'd really rather not answer the 'when' and 'where' of it, Albus. But I've already told you the 'why'. To rescue someone." She took a deep breath, then continued, knowing that she had to tell him at least part of the truth. "Someone who doesn't belong in this time any more than I do. As you've most likely already guessed," she said, wryly. "Your friend Grindelwald may be accidentally responsibly for my presence, and the innocent person's presence. He may be our only way back home."
She paused, then added, "I need to get to him, Albus. I need to talk to him. I don't plan to hurt him -- in fact, I'm trying to avoid interfering with history any more than I need to."
"History..." Albus whispered, dazed. "Time...a dangerous, and delicate, and beautiful thing..."
"Very true," Lucie agreed, lost in thought.
"Also very dangerous and beautiful," said Albus. "Is truth. Potentially a great weapon." Lucie's eyes flew up to meet his.
"Yes," she whispered. "Which is why I do not want to burden you with it more than you need to be burdened. Do you trust Lazerus Grindelwald?"
"Yes."
"He may be involved with something, something very dangerous. Something that may be a great weapon. And he may be involved over his head. He may need your help."
The sunlight streaming in through the small, dusty window illuminated the swirling dust motes floating between them, giving the room a sparkly appearance. Lucie waited, patiently.
After what seemed an eternity, Albus nodded. "He mentioned something along those lines, earlier. Before you -- ah -- burst in upon us." Albus sighed. "Yes, Nigella. I'll help you," he said. "I will help you. I only hope that I do not regret it."
"Me, too."