There was no return address, not even her address, only the name "Istelle Cressida Malfoy" in ornate lettering. Turning the envelope over in her hands she removed the parchment inside and unfolded it to reveal the rather long winded instructions she had been given.
Istelle let her breath out slowly, trying to release the frustration building in her gut, and climbed back out of her car, slamming the door shut. With her chin tilted at a defiant angle, she marched back to the place where a rather large manor was supposed to be. Cursing under her breath as she shuffled through the parchment, she felt a determination that had become an unfortunate norm. What was it about this mysterious letter, from the previously unknown Order of the Phoenix, which inspired such aggravation - and thus an odd sort of motivation - in her?
As she sorted through the papers, in a frenzy that was barely contained, she caught the flash of a tiny paper scrap dropping from its place wedged between two maps she had been provided with. Squinting down at the toe of her tennis shoe, where the fragment had drifted lazily to, she made out the words written in dark ink: "The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is at Number 12, Grimauld Place." Istelle thought hard about this, how could a house that didn't exist be used as a headquarters?
No sooner had she begun to ponder her dilemma than numbers 11 and 13 began to slide apart, and a house was eagerly squeezing itself into the space provided. Doors and windows and rooms were building onto each other, sliding and positioning themselves into a large mansion. In mere seconds it sat there, as if it had been resting in that same spot since she had arrived.
Approaching the house cautiously, as she did not trust an inanimate object this large that could hide itself so well, and seem so gleefully smug about it, Istelle stepped over cracked stones and the remains of a garden to reach the front door. The house held a shadow of former magnificence that was slightly tarnished by its dilapidated state. Istelle took hold of the grimy door knocker shaped like a menacing serpent and brought it down twice on the thick wood door. To her horror a loud shriek began to emit from beyond the door, and she quickly withdrew her hand with a cringe. Inside she could hear people bustling around, and then the door was flung open to a great commotion. Three short people seemed to be struggling with a rather violent portrait of a wheezing old woman. The old bag in the portrait struggled with all she had to hold the curtains open and roar obscenities.
Her gaze moved wildly around the room, damning every person she saw until her eyes fell upon Istelle.
"You!" the portrait shrieked louder than ever. The person that had opened the door hurried Istelle inside and slammed the door in case the portrait's words carried out to the muggle neighbors.
"You filthy little blood traitor! You are worse than these filthy mudbloods and half beasts. Dare you step in my house?"
Istelle chose not to reply, but instead gazed around at the hall she was standing in. The house seemed much cleaner on the inside, and looked to have under gone a recent and thorough cleaning. The dark mahogany walls were recently scrubbed of grime and the balustrade and staircase gleamed from a very fresh waxing. Heavy purple curtains decorated the thick glass windows flanking the front door, and a magnificent swag adorned the barren wall above the only door in the foyer, just opposite of Istelle.
The portrait seemed to be waiting for a comeback, some amount of self-defense that Istelle would not give. The short people, who Istelle now realized upon closer inspection were teenagers and not just vertically challenged, took the lapse of the portrait's attention as an opportunity to close the curtains over her.
The woman who had opened the door was plump and motherly, with a mane fiery red hair. "Hello there dear, you must be Miss Malfoy. I'm Molly, and those three back there are Harry, Ron and Hermione. It's their sixth year at Hogwarts." If it were possible Molly's smile grew even wider. "Ron's a Prefect you know, I was so shocked he made it, but so pleased. He's the third in the family." She smiled at the tall redheaded boy, standing between the other two, who turned crimson in the cheeks. "Well now, I'm sure you had no trouble with muggles, very nicely dressed." She smiled halfheartedly at Istelle's jeans and black tee. "This way dearie, we're in the dining room." Istelle followed her, careful not to let her misgivings show. She felt eyes on her back, but when she turned around the three teenagers snapped their heads down and pretended to be studying their sneakers.
"She has arrived Dumbledore!" Molly cried cheerfully as she threw open the door, calling Istelle's attention to the room they had entered. A large wooden table stood in the middle of the room and several witches and wizards sat around it. It was hard to get a better view of the room with all the people blocking her way, so she simply took her seat next to Molly.
"Hello Miss Malfoy!" Dumbledore said cheerfully, as she sat and wished people would stop being polite and referring to her like that. "You've met Molly Weasley, obviously-" Molly giver her a wide smile. "And I believe you remember Minerva from school-" Professor McGonagall, her old Transfiguration professor, gave her a small nod. "And I further believe you had Severus as your Potions Master-" Professor Snape gave her a quick forced smile that made the hairs on Istelle's neck rise. "The rest are new to you," Dumbledore continued. "Our Aurors-" several people nodded and smiled, and Istelle vaguely recognized her cousin, Nymphadora, though they had only met a handful of times when they were kids, and never since her grandparents passed away. "Remus and Arthur-" The two older men smiled warmly at her. "And this is Mundungus and Abba." Dumbledore finished as the last of the seated people greeted her. "It took a bit of persuasion to get you away from California, did it not Miss Malfoy?" Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling and a smile playing across his lips.
"Well, yes, a bit." Istelle said, her face heating to a becoming shade of red. "But who'd willingly leave the beach for London, eh?" She joked rather lamely with a crooked smile, as everyone looked back at her blankly.
"Well Miss Malfoy, I think we ought to fill you in," Snape said in a drawling voice that reminded her of sitting in a dark dungeon fretting about ingredients.
"Well, you can call me Istelle. I'd actually prefer it." She replied, but Snape spoke on as though she had not made a sound.
"The Dark Lord was restored to a body the summer before last, and since the Ministry did not believe us until a few weeks ago we reunited the Order of the Phoenix. We managed to keep Voldemort from gaining a very powerful weapon and arrest several Death Eaters. All with the help of a rather want to be hero-" Dumbledore coughed lightly but Snape continued unperturbed, "- who lead his friends into a trap and blundered his way to victory, of course." Snape took a breath and stared around at the group. They all nodded that he had gotten right, though some seemed to have disagreed with his wording.
"They got their hands on Lucius, I trust?" Istelle said rather blandly after taking in all that Snape had said.
"Indeed," Snape said with the tiniest of smiles.
"Well then I suppose there is no use for me." Istelle said slowly, not wanting to be involved in any of this. She had a very nice life in the States, and was not about to abandon it to go careening after dark wizards. "I have no interest in playing little Miss Spy for you Dumbledore. I knew only one Death Eater for sure, that was my father, since he has been apprehended I feel it is not necessary for me to stay." Istelle began to rise, realizing she had wasted two whole days on this, days she could have spent working and earning money.
"Istelle, sit down." Dumbledore commanded firmly. However intimidating he had been when he was her Headmaster at Hogwarts there wasn't a trace of it. She had escaped this for eight long years and she refused to be dragged into it again. "Istelle he will find you there. You cannot go back." Dumbledore warned as she turned her back to him and walked towards the door.
"Who's found me? And where?" She asked, continuing her path towards the door. Istelle could not ignore Dumbledore' warnings, he did not give false statements just to make some one stay where he wanted, but she had not yet resigned herself to believing that life as she knew it would change. Again.
"Surely you must've known Voldemort-" everyone but Dumbledore and Istelle winced "- would've ensured the Dementors support to him by offering them that which the Ministry can not? They released all the Death Eaters we captured. We have no way of imprisoning them, and they are on a rampage." Dumbledore explained calmly, as if the thought of evil soul-sucking fiends storming around was a mild nuisance...
"That does not answer my questions. So Lucius is out, I didn't expect that slippery scum to be imprisoned long. But that does not mean he could find me, I have stayed out of his reach this long haven't I?
"Only by your Mother's will. Your Father has known for almost six years where you have been hiding, but your mother convinced him not to harm you." Dumbledore said, almost monotonously.
Istelle breathed in sharply as if preparing to argue; instead she let the air out of her lungs slowly as her shoulders drooped. Yet again she had to abandon all she knew to start over again, and all because of her despicable father. This time she had much less places to choose from. If Lucius did not find her in California he was sure to comb the rest of America. She realized abruptly that the sensible choice would not be to run away, but to discover a safe haven just under her father's nose.
Hogwarts.