PHEW. Been a minute, huh? Sorry about that! Life, ya know? Heads up that this chapter hasn't been edited soooo apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes! I'll get around to editing it soon. :)
Enjoy! Please fav, follow, and review if you do!
- CHAPTER 16: ST. MUNGOS -
My steps were slow as I made my way towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. I was a student who arrived early to every class, always. But my feet didn't want to move quick enough today, my stomach bubbling with nausea at what awaited. Ever since last class when Professor Merrythought told us what we'd be doing this class, I'd considered ways of getting out of it. For the first time in my three years at Hogwarts, I thought about skipping class.
'Hands on' curriculum. Usually I didn't think so when it came to education, but right now the concept of it seemed so ridiculous to me as I continued down the corridors.
I adjusted my skirts before pulling on my tie, the fabric too constricting. My body was on fire despite the cool air of the grounds. Just past the windows, the snow fell in droves as the January sky lit up the castle in a bright light. Students ran about, rushing off to classrooms as the time for the start of class moved closer. But I kept my steady, wobbly pace.
Finally, I couldn't postpone my fate any longer as I rounded the corner and saw the open door of the classroom. With one last breath, I entered, keeping close to the back wall. The desks were pushed aside, everyone standing around the large space while their voices echoed off the high ceilings. The delicate skeletons of various magical creatures that usually littered the sides of the classroom were floating high above the ground, out of reach of any potential mishaps that may happen during the lesson.
Finally, I spotted it and my breath hitched. The large wardrobe rattled loudly, shaking against the floorboards from where it stood at the front of the room.
Professor Merrythought cleared her throat as she opened the door to her office up a small staircase at the back of the classroom. Pushing well over one hundred, she hobbled to begin her descent towards the moving furniture.
"Students—" she began, her voice scratchy, before she was interrupted by a chorus of hooting as four Gryffindor boys crashed through the door. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, I'm not surprised to see such rowdiness from you two, but Mr. Lupin," she admonished the slouchy, scarred boy as he walked behind his rowdy friends, "I expected better. Settle down, would you?" She didn't even acknowledge Peter as she waited for the four boys to shuffle their way to the perimeter of the classroom.
"Disgusting," Celeste's whiny voice rang in my right ear. "Walking around like they own the place. It's no wonder Walburga's afraid to show her face anywhere." Her gaze was pointed towards Sirius. Apparently things were only getting worse in the Black household, his parents unable to accept his sorting even three years later.
"Did you hear that they tried to appeal for him to be resorted again?" Vanessa asked from beside Celeste, her long brown hair hanging straight to her waist. "Over the break. The crackpot Dumbledore said no, naturally." She crossed her arms and scrunched her nose as if smelling something foul.
"Like that bloodtraitor wants to be resorted anyhow." Celeste scoffed. "He's happy as a Hippogriff with those vile mates of his. I mean look at him, all chummy."
My head swiveled slightly in the boys' direction. James and Sirius were still messing about, poking one another before the latter final grabbed the bespectacled boy in a headlock. Remus watched on with a smirk while Peter fidgeted nervously about a foot away. They were an odd group of boys, sure, but they looked so content around one another. Happy. They poked fun, but I don't think I'd ever seen them actually cross with one another.
"Mr. Potter! Mr. Black!" Professor Hartwample squealed as she made her way down the steps from her office. She was as thin as a bowtruckle with a bend in her back that made her no taller than four feet. Her clothes always smelled like mothballs, as if she had just pulled her cloak from the attic where it had sat for the past century. "Again, please settle down! How many times must I begin class by taking points from Gryffindor, hmm?"
"Sorry, professor," James said, but looked anything but as he continued to elbow Sirius.
She shot them a glare that could kill a first year, but they'd long since grown a resistance to the look.
"Gather round everyone!" As if given some sort of cue, the wardrobe wobbled harshly as she stood in front of it. I jumped back a half of a step in fright, the noise of it loud as all the students quietened down. "As mentioned, today we'll be discussing boggarts. Any of you care to read your assignment enough to tell me about them?"
Lily immediately raised her hand.
"Professor's pet," Celeste grumbled and Vanessa giggled. "Can't she go one class without sucking up?"
"It's a creature that takes the form of your biggest fear," Lily answered.
"And what does it look like otherwise?" Hartwample scurried towards the lock and I felt my heart rate increase.
"No one knows," Lily continued, and I watched as James sent a proud smile to the back of her head. That was an odd match if I'd ever seen one.
"Ten points to Gryffindor. Now!" Hartwample turned to us after unlocking the wardrobe, her wand at the ready. "The spell for fighting off a boggart is quite easy—everyone repeat after me. Riddikulus!"The class repeated the word at varying levels of sincerity. "Now line up! Time to practice."
I tried to put myself as far in the back as possible, hoping that time would run out before I had to try it with the boggart myself.
Truthfully, I didn't know why I was so scared. I had no bullies to worry about using my fears against or anything. I supposed the thing I feared most was that I didn't know what I was most afraid of. And, if that was the case, why would I want to find out? Surely nothing but trouble would come of that kind of knowledge.
"Mr. Lupin." Hartwample indicated for the Gryffindor boy to step forward after another student in my house had turned a lobster into a wooden toy. "You're turn—wand held high."
The wooden toy shuffled itself around for a moment more before, in a swirl of smoke and air, the boggart formed into Remus's fear. I had to step out of the line in order to make out what it was. It looked like a bright white orb surrounded by smoke. No… A moon on a cloudy night.
Odd. I guess Remus was afraid of the dark.
The Gryffindor boy swallowed so hard even I could hear it. "Riddikulus!" he yelled, pointing his wand at it. The moon immediately transformed into a balloon, whizzing around the room in harmony with the laughter of other students.
"Well done as always!" Hartwample nodded, a small smile poking at her lips. She'd always thought Remus would make a good professor and she wasn't shy to let anyone know it. "Mr. Black, if you please."
Sirius stepped up, his lanky body tripping over his own feet as James pushed him forward. I'd noticed he started growing out his hair, the dark mop reaching just to his shoulders. He gave out another laugh with his friends, the noise too pleasant in comparison to the woosh of the boggart as it transformed.
I had to squint my eyes as the shape formed, not sure what exactly was happening as the boggart weaved itself around the air in front of the wardrobe. It latched onto the wood, crawling up it in ragged patterns that splintered over the surface.
Vines, I realized, with blooms at various intervals.
The boggart didn't stop growing until every inch of the wardrobe was covered, the vines forming an intricate and delicate pattern. Even James, Remus, and Peter looked confused as Sirius swallowed hard, the playful smile on his face faltering. But he laughed it off just as a couple of the flowers burned, leaving behind only scorch marks on the wood.
With a shrug in their direction, as if he was also confused, he raised his wand and shouted the incantation. The vines twitched, wiggling around the wood until they crinkled and rolled into dozens of green slinkies that bounced around the room. The class erupted with laughter as they tried to duck out of the way of the bouncing toys. Even Hartwample's mouth twitched ever so slightly.
Another Gryffindor stepped up, turning a dementor into a dancing sheet. With each passing student, my anxiety rose and I wondered if there was a possibility for me to run out without being noticed. But Hartwample was fiercely attentive and I was probably the first person she would notice was missing. So I waited, my palms sweating more and more to the point where I didn't know if I'd be able to hold my wand up.
Celeste was right before me, and too soon did she turn her relatively bland fear of a bad hair day—manifesting as a slightly disconcerting tangled wig—into a jump rope made out of one long braid.
And then it was my turn.
Celeste hadn't even left the front of the line when the boggart started to swirl in its mysterious whirl of magic. I waited with bated breath for whatever form it would take, a million options running through my mind all at once.
The movement slowed, becoming less of a tornado and more of an elegant breeze. The boggart shifted into pieces of luxurious satin and lace, all blending into one while they danced around above my head. I don't know exactly when the room went quiet but by the time the boggart settled, all I could hear was the beat of my heart against my eardrums. Then, the creature revealed itself in a breath of air as it floated ominously over us like a ghost.
I raised my wand with a visibly shaky hand, unsure if I could even say anything. My breath hitched, air unobtainable as I stared at the representation of my biggest fear.
My boggart was a wedding dress. A symbol I didn't know would bring me so much pain until many years later.
Apparently shaking slightly was the favored method of waking someone in the Potter household, because the next morning I found myself being slightly rocked on the shoulder in the early hours. The sunlight had barely started to crawl through the window, turning Sirius' room a light shade of sherbert orange. I was draped slightly over him, my chest rolling off his while my head rested over his peacefully beating heart. A perfect way to wake up by all accounts.
My mind drifted to last night. Sirius hadn't seemed surprised in the slightest when I knocked on his door after Lily and Alice deemed it safe to sneak around. He was dressed in comfy pajamas, instantly pulling me over to the bed with him. There wasn't a lot of talking to be had, but between kisses we managed to find out more about each other. How his favorite subject in school was actually Transfiguration, what it took to become an Animagus and how he was able to accomplish it during school hours, and how he hated the color green but not when I was wearing it. We had a lot of catching up to do in terms of getting to know one another and we didn't waste this time to do so.
Once again, no evils of the world had come up, no mention of how we were technically enemies in the grand scheme of things. Last night, we had just been normal young adults in a normal relationship. Something I had never thought possible until I was in the thick of it.
With bleary eyes, I turned to the witch or wizard who dared disrupt the peace, only to jump slightly when I saw Euphemia. My face flushed a bright red as I ran through a million ways I could talk myself out of getting in trouble from being caught. However, instead of anger, her features curled into a sly smile.
"Thought I'd find you here," she whispered, Sirius still sound asleep under me.
"Mrs. Pott— Euphemia, I—" but she cut me off before I could even attempt an excuse.
"Oh, please," she waved a hand as if to brush me off, "somehow, you guys are technically adults now. Can't really tell you what to do, can I? Or at least I can try but not get my hopes up that you'll actually listen." She winked before silently getting up from her seated position on the bed. "Come along now. There's someone waiting for you in the garden."
"W—what?" I thought my still asleep mind had misheard her.
"He told me to tell you to dress to go somewhere."
"Um," I slowly raised myself up, careful not to wake the boy under me. He shuffled a bit to get comfy but didn't stir. "Who? And did he say where?"
"Nope. But I'd dress warm. The snow sure did come down last night!"
And with that, she was out the door, leaving me bewildered and wondering if I should just lay back down. But instead, with a big yawn, I rose from the bed and stretched my arms. The thin shirt I'd brought with me to wear as pajamas didn't do much to shield me from the cold. I shivered, hugging myself tightly as I walked over to the window. If it had been someone like Lucius, or worse, surely she wouldn't have been so casual about it. Maybe it was Byron, come to say hello and make sure I was doing okay.
But as I reached the window and looked out, I saw… no one.
Frowning, I went over to my bag. Pulling out my jeans, I threw them on along with one of my "pureblood" sweaters.
"Dammit," I muttered, feeling around inside my bag. I had remembered to pack a wooly hat and gloves but no scarf. Going over to Sirius' closet, the only one I was able to find was his Gryffindor house scarf. With a heavy sigh and no other options, I slung it over my shoulders.
Before leaving, I tiptoed over to Sirius and sat next to him softly on the bed. Moving a curl out of his face, I took a second to appreciate his serene face. I imagined, like the rest of us, dreams were the only places we could ever truly be free. For in dreams, we aren't impeded by the laws of this world. In dreams, there is no good versus evil, there is only your reality in whatever form you wished to live it. Last night, I had dreamt of me and Sirius and I hoped with all my might he was doing the same now.
After a light kiss on his forehead, I got up and left to meet this mysterious stranger.
I met Euphemia in the kitchen, the smell of cinnamon and sweet bread already filling the main floor. The two house elves, Wodgy and the other's whose name I had come to learn as Maggit, were assisting Euphemia in preparing breakfast by juicing oranges and frying up eggs. The smells assaulted my nose at once, making my mouth water at the thought of the breakfast feast. Euphemia was by the oven, door slightly ajar and looking at the source of the sweet smell I inhaled earlier. Cinnamon rolls, I discovered.
"Ah, there you are!" She smiled, throwing her oven mitts on the large counter. She went over to the stovetop where a kettle sat, two mugs floating behind her. With a flick of the wand, she filled them up with the brown liquid, adding a dollop of milk and sugar to one. "How do you take yours?" She asked with a peek in my direction.
"One sugar, please." I said and a sugar cube plopped itself into what I assumed was my cup.
She walked them both over to me, holding them out for me to grab onto. "You can just leave them on the birdbath when you're done. Oh, and don't worry! We'll save you a cinnamon roll and I'll make you some fresh eggs when you get back."
"Thank you…?" I said, still confused as she ushered me towards the back door.
The bitter morning air hit me as the barn-style door opened to reveal a full blanket of snow across the garden. I was only able to marvel at it for a second before Euphemia gave me a slight nudge, my boots sinking into the several inches of snow as I made my way outside and heard the door close behind me. Unlike before at the window, someone now did occupy the garden and my stomach dropped at the sight of him while anger began to fester in my mind.
Dumbledore's back remained to me as I approached him where he stood near the birdbath in the center of the garden. As I placed his cup down beside him, I noticed his eyes were closed, face tranquil like he was sleeping and standing at the same time.
"I always say the sweetest sound is the song of morning birds," he finally said as I took a sip from the mug in my hands. The urge to roll my eyes was real. Of course he would think that. "I see you've switched houses and switched houses."
His tone was playful and I turned to look at him then. At my confused look, he pointed at Sirius' scarf. "Oh." I said simply. "Only one around."
"Hmm," he mused, grabbing his own tea. "How does it feel? To be a Gryffindor for a day?"
I seriously considered his question, not having considered it before. "It doesn't feel right." I said, pausing to take another sip of my tea. He waited patiently for me to continue. "I'm not cut out to be a Gryffindor."
"You make it sound as though it's a level of achievement to be sorted into that particular house."
"Isn't it?" I challenged. "Seems like everyone's vying to be a lion."
"But for every lion there needs to be a badger to calm it, an eagle to educate it, and…" he trailed off, looking at me thoughtfully. "A snake to challenge it. None of the houses stand above another. Except in house points, I suppose."
That actually made me snort. "Yeah, kind of deters from the whole notion of equality, eh?"
"There's got to be something to keep you rascals motivated and in your place… Otherwise the school would have been burned down five times over by now, I'm sure of it."
Despite myself, I chuckled at that, my anger waning from the initial sight of him. We stood in silence and I was finally able to hear the birds he spoke of. There were many of them, I noticed now, chirping from their various depths of the forest. More than once during our quiet contemplation, one would fly to the birdbath, only to be quickly disappointed by the frozen water inside and fly away back to the forest. Their soft tweeting formed an orchestra of sound that seemed to narrate the morning as the sun grew higher.
"Do you really believe it?" My voice was quiet, as if fighting against me disrupting the calm.
"Believe what?"
"That we're all equal." I sipped my tea nervously. "Because in case you haven't noticed, quite a few of my housemates aren't exactly on the right side of history right now."
"Ah, that." He nodded, a sad smile creeping up onto his face. "An unfortunate circumstance of nature versus nurture, if you want my honest opinion. None of us were born with such nefarious thoughts… We're taught them."
"And then we're all sorted into Slytherin?" My tea was almost out and I was already wishing for more.
"Do you consider yourself as one of them, then? Even still?"
Hands holding onto the remaining warmth of my cup, I paused. If he had asked me that a couple of days ago, I would have had a much different answer. "Not so much."
"But you still feel as though you belong in that house?"
"Well," I shrugged, "the hat's never wrong, right?"
"But even beyond that," he continued as he finished off his own cup of tea, "you belong there. Your personal ambitions are the very definition of what makes your house great."
"Yeah, well," the tone of my voice turned sour as I remembered why I didn't really like the man beside me. "The last time we spoke, you made it very clear that I didn't have many of those…"
"Another stoke of the flames to get the fire going." He smiled at me with a twinkle in his eye. "You're here now, aren't you?"
Not because of you, I wanted to scream but stopped myself. Even so, a prickle at the back of my brain wondered if maybe his words did affect me somehow. They sure were a slap in the face at the time.
I settled for, "I suppose so."
He set his mug on the birdbath, empty. "You wonder why he favors you."
It wasn't a question and the statement caught me so off-guard that I found myself frozen. A chill went down my spine and not because of the cold. It just didn't feel right, him ruining this little sliver of piece I had found by finally bringing up Voldemort. Why did everyone else seem to know my popularity with him but me?
"Yeah," I whispered, nevertheless. My shaky hands practically dropped my empty mug as I placed it besides his. "How'd you know about that?"
"I have my sources…" He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Plus, I knew he wouldn't be marrying you off to Mr. Malfoy for no reason. Tom has always been strategic to a fault."
Tom. For some reason, hearing his real name made my stomach churn even more.
"Yeah, and to my detriment," I mumbled.
"Indeed," he chuckled. "I wish I could at least say his grades made up for his judgement but alas… And that stays between us, if you please." Then he sighed, any sign of humor lost. "He finds you useful. Valuable even more than just as a pawn in his entire scheme."
"But why?" I grimaced. "I'm nothing special, really. I'd never be able to do the things he has his minions going out and doing."
"No," he frowned. "You're no killer. But you are smart… And unreadable."
The word felt heavy, as if it was deeper than the surface it landed on.
"Unreadable," I repeated.
"Yes," he hesitated and for the first time, I watched as uncertainty crossed the headmaster's features. Was there something he didn't want me to know? Finally, though, he let out a long sigh of resignation. "In the literal sense. He's not able to penetrate your mind. Neither am I for that matter… And while it frustrates him, he knows it can be a very powerful tool as he tries to build his empire."
"You mean… Like mind-reading? Can people actually do that anyway?"
"Legilimency, we'd call it," he said simply. "Not an easy skill to master and historically rather rare."
"Then," my brows scrunched as I thought it through, "why does it matter? So what if he can't read my mind, then?"
"I said historically. These days, he's passing out lessons like candy at Honeydukes. It's forced the Ministry to do the same. And not even those extremely gifted in Occlumency can trick those as skilled as him and me… But you," he gave me a pointed look, "are able to completely conceal what's going on in that bright head of yours without even having to try."
I sighed. "Which is why he wants me to be an ambassador. I can pass on any confidential information without being caught."
"Precisely. You could store secrets for him like a treasure chest, him throwing away the key."
"But just because someone isn't able to get it out of my mind, doesn't mean I won't be able to tell anyone myself."
"But would you?" He asked sincerely. "Knowing he has your family in the palm of his hands?"
That made me frown deeply, a twang of guilt gnawing at my stomach from the reminder that I was even here now. A reminder that standing here, with the prime enemy, was bound to lead to catastrophe. Even if I decided to forget about that for a few days, that didn't mean the danger dissipated completely. My silence must have been all the affirmation he needed to know that he had made his point.
"And he always has a way of finding out," I continued.
"Oh?"
"It was recently discovered that I was in possession of a two-way mirror." I frowned at the thought of the emerald ring sitting in the depths of Gringotts. "He was able to keep track of me, always just a finger's length away."
"I hope it's safe to assume that you've gotten rid of it?" He looked almost nervous.
"Professor…" I kicked a patch of fresh snow. "I know I'm not your favorite student but it's a little insulting that you think I would be daft enough to come here otherwise."
"It's less about how daft you are more about how clever he is." He was horrid at backtracking. "But you know, so long as you're able to avoid such schemes of his, you could keep secrets from him as well."
I paused, already having a feeling of where this was going. "What do you need?" I asked, eyes narrowing once more.
"Like I said, we have yet to find two of the four Founders' objects," he began, getting straight to the point. "We need your help to find them and you can do so without letting him know we're onto him."
"Right." I scoffed. "Well, the diadem's in Albania somewhere, so good luck with that."
"How'd you know that?" He asked, genuinely surprised.
"The ghosts can be very helpful." He only looked more confused at my words. The question had actually been a sincere one, I realized. "Wait, did you really not know?"
He smiled then, half moon glasses tilting up with his cheeks. "Like I said, you've got quite the bright mind."
"Well," I hesitated, not knowing if I should tell him, "you can actually thank Regulus Black for that one. He tracked down the story and found out where it's hidden. No specifics beyond that it's in Albania, though."
"Hmm," he mused, processing the new bit of information. "And the sword?"
"Hadn't even started on that one to be honest," I rubbed my eyes, desperately wishing for a new cup of tea. "We dropped the rest of them when we were working on the cup." I gave him a pointed glare. "Wasted time on the cup, I should say."
He smiled once more. "It's never a waste when you're protecting the ones you love… Even if you don't know you're doing it at the time."
"Right," I said flatly, not giving in to what I'm sure he thought was a heartfelt sentiment.
Another calm silence rested over us as my mind blossomed once more with the contents of my aunt's journal. While I had brought it with me, of course, I hadn't looked at it since that night we went to retrieve the cup. Given everything I had learned, I had hoped to be done with it all… But it seemed like that could no longer be the case. I sighed once more.
"But what's the point, Professor?" My voice melded with the morning breeze. "Does it matter that he has them? They're just some old trinkets. Enchanted, sure, but nothing he could really use to take over the world."
"That's the rub, isn't it?" Dumbledore's brow scrunched. "He never acts without purpose, and certainly isn't one for sentimentality. He needs them for something."
"But for what?"
"I'm afraid to say that I'm not sure." His head sagged, as if the weight of admitting it pushed down on his shoulders. "But no matter the reason, the fact remains that we can't let him get ahold of them. No matter the costs."
"Great." My voice was flat. So, I was going to be roped into this again, then. "Where do we start?"
He tilted his head in my direction, a twinkle in his eye just beyond his half moon glasses. Without a word, he held up his arm. We disappeared as soon as I grasped it.
St. Mungo's was not a pleasant place, especially in comparison to the glorious dwellings I just left behind.
No matter when I visited, no matter what the weather was like elsewhere, the building was always blanketed in thick fog. You could barely see the brick building until you were right on top of it. Standing at the gates, I only caught glimpses of lanterns in far off windows.
"Put this on," Dumbledore said, holding out a cloak to me. "We can't have anyone knowing you're here."
"And a black cloak is supposed to miraculously help me in that regard?"
He sent me a wistful look. "Put it on backwards."
With a huff, I did as I was told, mumbling about how poor of a disguise this was. But as I went to latch the cloak at my throat, I gasped. My body was nowhere to be found as I stared at the gravel. I stuck my hand in and out of where the front pieces parted, and each time it appeared for a few seconds before disappearing once more as I pulled it back under.
"What in Merlin's name..." I breathed.
"An invisibility cloak," Dumbledore said, slightly smug.
"Where'd you get your hands on something like this?"
He shrugged. "I have some connections... But more on that later. Hood up, Miss Ledoux."
I did as I was told and as the fabric covered my vision. I assumed that my head disappeared with the motion. Dumbledore began to walk, completely at ease as he pushed his hands into the pockets of his jacket.
In no time, the massive brick building loomed above us, and I could swear that I heard the faint cryings of the sick and dying. The professor didn't hesitate, moving up the stairs with brisk strides. I knew he couldn't see me but I had a feeling he knew where I was all the same. He opened the door with ease, heaving it forward wide enough for me to slip through before it could close. With causal movements he approached the reception desk. Writing away was a plump witch, her dark skin contrasting beautifully with her mint green uniform.
"Galinda!" Dumbledore greeted her cheerfully as he leaned on the desk. "How are you, my dear?"
"Oh, Albus!" The receptionist looked up from her papers, placing her reading glasses atop her head. "So great to see you! It's been a minute."
"It has indeed, my dear!" He let out a sad chuckle. "Kids at school are a bit more than I can chew these days. Can't get as many days off as I'd like."
"Oh, yes." The receptionist's smile turned upside down. "It was so awful when those young boys had to come in. Suppose you're here to see them?"
He nodded his head ruefully. "If that's alright?"
"Of course, of course!" She stood and directed down the hall. "Fourth floor, second room on the left."
The headmaster just nodded politely with a smile before sauntering off, not even acknowledging me as he turned the corner. I followed closely behind as he made his slow ascent up the first flight of stairs, nurses and visitors bopping around while holiday decorations floated happily above us. Just like the Great Hall, snow fell from the ceiling, the flakes disappearing a couple of feet above our heads. The garlands strung up on the wall filled the building with the refreshing scent of fresh pine. It was so odd how someplace that looked so dreary on the outside dressed up so nicely for the holidays.
We were just about to hit the landing to the third floor when I finally decided to ask him what exactly his plan was. I knew we weren't here to see a couple of Ravenclaw boys I didn't even know.
"You know," he said, looking as if he was talking to himself while he went to stand by the window. It overlooked a dreary garden, all of the trees and flowers dead under the snow and fog. "I think I'll spend about twenty minutes with the boys, wish their family happy holidays and see when they might be fit to come back to school." He gave out a sad sigh "If they'll ever be fit enough to come back, I should say." He turned slightly towards me but looked up the steps, not acknowledging that there was another presence. A nurse hustled up the stairs and he waited until she was around the corner before going on. "I trust you know where your great aunt is. Like I said, twenty minutes." He began to head towards the steps, not even taking a look back. "And it is imperative that you are not seen."
My face scrunched up. I figured that was the reason he'd brought me here. "But what am I supposed to—" I began, my voice barely a whisper.
"With two bright witches in a single room, I'm sure you'll find something interesting to talk about." He shrugged, turning a corner and out of sight.
I sighed in annoyance. Cryptic, as bloody always.
But I scurried down the hallway nonetheless, knowing the route to my great aunt's room well. In all her years here, she'd never moved. They tried once to 'optimize patient occupancy' but she threw a fit that involved a couple of stolen wands on her part, and an injured pet niffler. So, since then, they hadn't tried to uproot her again.
It was depressingly barren today, the only ones walking about being staff as I bypassed them under the cloak. The soft chime of Christmas carols rang out while the glint of decorated trees caught my eye as I passed by the open doors of rooms. Finally, I reached my destination.
Her door was always closed when I came to visit, so I don't know why it surprised me that I was greeted in the same way. I guess part of me hoped that it was set up by my parents as a last ditch effort to shield me from our family's shame. But as I rested my hand on the doorknob and twisted, that didn't seem to be the case. My great aunt was just so broken that she needed to be hidden behind closed doors.
And today I would finally find out exactly why.
Without knocking, I peeked inside. The room was quiet and if I didn't know any better, I would have sworn the woman on the bed was dead. The only indication that she wasn't was the subtle rise and fall of her chest from where she was tucked under a thick white duvet. Beyond, the snow had begun to fall heavily through the windows. In front of them sat a pleasant Christmas tree, the baubles twinkling against the lights intertwined amongst the pine needles.
I walked inside and closed the door quietly, knowing I was running out of time but not wanting to wake her up just yet. Inching closer, I pulled the cloak off and threw it over my arm. She didn't stir as I approached the tree, taking a look at all the photos of my extended family littered at its base. I knew most of these people had never visited her while she was here, and even my family had reduced our visits to once a year. So the pictures were really just window dressing—a surface level show of affection.
"Who's there?" A voice made of sandpaper called out from behind me. Coughing closely followed, and I turned in time to see my mom raise herself slightly as she continued to hack. "Beatrice? Bea?!" she called out the name of her nurse.
"Not Beatrice," I said softly, finally stepping up to her and sitting down in the chair beside her bed. Out of reflex, I reached a hand over to smooth her hair. She looked so frail with her near-translucent skin and glossy eyes. "Hi, auntie."
"Elsbeth," she cooed. "It's been so long, my sweet."
"I know," I sighed, my eyes stinging. "I'm sorry I haven't come to see you in so long… A lot's happened."
"Hmm," she mused, eyes wandering off into the distance. "It's him, isn't it?"
A shiver ran down my spine and my hand snapped back as if zapped. She didn't pose it as a question, her voice sure of itself.
"Who's 'him'?" I leaned forward as I asked, needing to make sure we were on the same page.
"Voldemort," she said with the same conviction and my breathing stopped. "That prick."
"What do you know about him, auntie?" I begged, sneaking a peek around as if to check if someone was somehow listening.
"I know he's a scourge on this planet," she leaned up with rapid movements, the thought of him igniting something within her. "He's a plague, a cockroach."
In a flash of movement, she was out of bed. I hadn't seen her walk once during all the time she'd been in St. Mungo's. My body froze as I watched her flail about, at a loss for what exactly I should do. She continued to move about, making inaudible grunts as she waved her arms.
Then she stepped up to the tree, throwing ornaments to the ground. They crashed on the hard floor, their delicate glass splintering into a million pieces. She ripped a branch from the trunk and rid it of all its bristles. When she was done, she held it up in my direction. My hands flew up in surrender as her makeshift want targeted me.
"WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON HIM," she bellowed, "I'LL KILL HIM FOR GOOD! GOOD!" She inched forward, the wand still aimed at my face. "And none of you can stop me!"
"Aunt Karin," I pleaded. "I'm not here to stop you. I'm here to help you." Her intense gaze wavered but she didn't move. We hovered in uneasy silence as I assessed what I should do. I settled for asking, "Why did you give me the journal?"
Her hand did falter at that, the mention of the book rocking something in her cracked mind back into place. She lowered her hand, the makeshift wand hitting the floor with a couple of small clunking noises. Her body swayed as she wrapped her arms around herself, her lips moving to mumble something out of earshot.
"Aunt Karin?" I repeated, daring a step forward. I didn't ask if she was okay, I knew the answer to that. So, I settled for repeating, "Why did you give me the journal?"
"Oh, Elsbeth." Her voice was practically a groan as she collapsed into a nearby armchair.
"I'm here." I walked up, kneeling before her. Grabbing her fidgety hand in mine, I looked into her eyes. "You can tell me," I whispered. "Why did you give me the journal?"
"Because I can trust you, my dear," she said, voice raspy. She grabbed ahold of my hand roughly, pulling it towards her and nearly throwing me off balance. Her eyes leaned slightly crazed once more. "Where is it? Is it safe?"
I thought about the bag I left behind at the Potters, its near endless depth holding the journal amongst a myriad of things I'd brought with me. Suddenly, I wished I had brought it with me. But, then again, I hadn't exactly known I would be leaving the comfort of Sirius's bed so soon.
"It is," I replied simply. A look of disbelief flashed through her eyes. "I promise."
"Good, good, good," she mumbled, rocking back and forth in the chair.
I squeezed her hand a little bit. "Auntie?" Her eyes refocused, as if pulled back from a bad dream. "Why did you give me the journal?" I asked for hopefully the last time.
For a brief moment, her eyes were filled with nothing but clarity. She recessed into the Aunt Karin I knew her to be before all this - sharp as a needle. Her rocking ceased as her cool eyes locked on mine.
"He must not get them," she whispered furiously. Her cold bony fingers wrapped around my wrist as she pulled me closer. "Elsbeth, do you understand?"
"But why?" I asked. I inched closer, lowering my voice as if we were being listened to. "Auntie, why does he need them?"
"He wants to do terrible, terrible things, my dear. Turn them into—"
She paused, a million thoughts sprinting past her glossy eyes. Her hand released mine and snapped up to my neck, causing me to flinch. But her fingers only met the red and gold knit of Sirius's scarf.
"What's this…" she mumbled, tugging at it.
"A scarf," I answered dumbly, my cheeks going red.
A smirk whispered on her lips. "A boy's, then." My eyes dropped and I felt silly at the turn of the conversation. "Is he kind?" She asked and my brow quirked in confusion. "Is he kind?"
"S-sure," was all I managed to muster up. "No, I mean yes. Yes, he is very kind. At least to me."
"And is he worth it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Is he worth the pain you'll feel when he dies at the hands of Voldemort?"
With a gasp I fell back, the palms of my hands hitting the hardwood floor roughly. The words punched me in the gut, ripping the breath from my lungs.
"Why would you say something like that?" I breathed.
"Because he will die. All of you will," she said as she started rocking in the chair once more. "Unless you stop him from succeeding in his plan."
"What plan?" The words came out in an exasperated plea and I stood to tower over her. "Auntie, what is he trying to do with the founders's relics? What does he want to turn them into?"
She looked up to meet my gaze and I knew she was all but gone again. My chin trembled as tears threatened the corners of my eyes.
"Horrible things, my dear," she said, her voice airy. "The worst kind of magic there is."
The door opened with force and I swiveled towards it. A plump witch in a bright green robe waltzed in before pausing abruptly at the sight of someone else besides my aunt in the room. A heavy weight settled over the three of us, tension palpable as she looked me up and down.
My pulse raced as an unsettling feeling dropped in my stomach. She didn't look right, almost dishevelled. The robe she wore was clearly too big, perhaps not her own.
And then I saw the wand in her hand. Her gaze followed mine and she moved her hand behind her back.
"Hello," she said, her voice too sharp. "I didn't realize Karin was having visitors today."
"I, um—" I paused, unsure of what to say. "Sorry, wrong room."
With one last look in my aunt's direction, I shuffled past the witch and into the hallway. The witch peeked out of my aunt's room, her pointy hat making her stick out against the glum. I increased my pace, holding the cloak closer to my side. Just a couple of steps and I'd be around the corner. Then, I'd be able to put this cloak on and simply disappear.
I met a body as I rounded the corner to the stairwell, a large oomf escaping my lips from the impact.
"Miss Ledoux," Dumbledore said, a tight smile on his face. He grabbed the cloak from my hands before throwing it over me in a rush. The haze of the fabric clouded my vision but I was still able to see how on edge he was. "Perfect timing. We need to leave."
"W-what?" I breathed, barely able to keep up as he pulled me down the stairs. "What's going on?"
"Nothing for you to worry about." The edge in his tone wasn't comforting. We continued down the stairs in hurried silence.
As we reached the last flight of stairs, three wizards began their ascent to the second floor. He didn't say anything, but Dumbledore nodded in their direction. As they moved closer, I recognized the one at the head from that horrible day at the Ministry. Yaxley, I think. His bald head dipped back at Dumbledore in recognition. Then, he looked in my direction, as if he knew I was there.
"I know him," I whispered. "What is he doing—"
"Perhaps another time, Miss Ledoux," he said quietly, throwing another nod at a group of passing wizards. They all held a look of determination on their faces, clearly not here for a casual visit.
Dumbledore cleared the lobby in seconds and soon enough we were out in the cold. The wind nipped at my cheeks as he continued to trudge along. My arm began to ache from his grip.
"Professor," I breathed, tugging in an effort to break our quick stride. "Professor, what's going on?"
"Another time, Miss Ledoux," he said sternly.
"But—"
My voice was shattered by an eruption from behind us. I just managed to turn in time to see windows shatter and wood splinter off of the monstrous building. Flames erupted, their heat even reaching us at a significant distance. I gasped, ripping away the hood of the cloak as if the clear view would help me understand what was going on.
Screams erupted in the distance—the sound of witches and wizards leaking through the gaping holes in the facade of the building.
"Dear Merlin," I gasped, my stomach dropping to my feet. "What is—"
But I wasn't able to get the question out before Dumbledore grabbed my shoulder and we disappeared into thin air.
The snow crunched under my feet, my breath visible as I pushed through the mounds that scattered the Potter's land. I couldn't concentrate, the playful shouts of the Marauders too quickly morphing into the screams I'd heard at St. Mungos that morning. I felt so sick, Euphemia's cinnamon rolls couldn't even rouse an appetite.
Dumbledore had all but dropped me on the Potter's porch, asking me to remain quiet about our excursion for the time being before vanishing in thin air.
I'd avoided everyone for the most part, hopping off to my actual bed to avoid Sirius. I didn't want to face him until I knew how to feel, and I didn't know how to feel until I understood what the hell had happened today. I had the feeling that Dumbledore wasn't going to share those answers with me anytime soon.
So I hid. Until Lily all but yanked me into the snow to go sledding her, Alice, and the boys.
So I trudged along like a wounded dog, everyone passing by with varying looks of pity as they zipped down the hill on their sleds.
"Okay, enough of this," Sirius said, pulling me towards him with a yank on the wrist. His hands were on my face, his thumbs gently rubbing my numb cheeks. "What happened today, Beth?"
I bit my lip. "I…" I began, "I don't think I'm supposed to tell you."
"Dumbledore, then?" A sad smirk formed on his lips.
"How'd you know?"
He let out an exasperated sigh. "He's got his hands on everything, doesn't he?"
"You said it," I grumbled.
With a resolute hmm, he began to lead me towards the top of the hill. He sat, throwing an arm around my shoulder as I plopped down beside him.
From up there, I watched with amusement as Remus and Peter were forced to share a sled. The former hollored in amusement while the latter clawed at the ground in an attempt to remain upright. James and Lily laughed as Peter lost his momentum, toppling off the sled and rolling halfway down the hill. Alice and Frank nearly rammed into him when they followed close behind.
"I realized something today," I said, my mitten-covered finger tracing a pattern in the snow.
"Yeah?" He said, regaining his composure after laughing at Peter. "What's that?"
"Now is the exact wrong time to be starting a relationship with someone. Especially someone like you."
A shocked look crossed his features, his body going rigid at my side. "Well—I mean, if that's how you feel but—obviously, I would respect your decision—but also—" His blubbering, mixed with the disorder of my emotionally fatigued mind, made me laugh so hard that my arm wrapped around my stomach. Eventually, I couldn't help it as the rocking of my body pushed me to lay on my back, my hair sinking into the snow.
"God, I've gone full fucking mental," I managed to breathe out while wiping away a tear.
"Yeah, I'd have to agree." He leaned onto his side so he was slightly hovering over me. His head was nearly cast in silhouette against the afternoon sun, but I still saw the sincereness in his eyes. "What's going on, Beth?"
My hand reached up to stroke his cheek. His stubble was growing in slightly and I wondered what he'd look like if he tried to grow a beard and mustache. Handsome, no doubt.
"It's the exact wrong time to be starting a relationship," I repeated. "Which must mean you're really something if I still want to try anyway."
A relieved puff of air escaped his lips and tickled my cheeks. "I was really worried there for a second," he smiled. "Thought I was right back where I started."
I poked the stubble on his cheek. "Not today," I whispered.
"Not ever, you mean."
My smile dipped into a frown. "You know, there's a high probability of me dying before this is over." My fingers graced the frown that formed on his face at my words. "Of all of us dying, if we're being honest."
"I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Elsbeth." He held my hand in his, squeezing. "Promise."
"I know." I squeezed his hand back. "Doesn't mean nothing won't, though. Okay?"
He opened his mouth to reply, the look on his face giving away just how worried he was by my words. But a shout from afar interrupted him.
"Oi!" James shouted from down the hill, throwing a half-assed snowball in our direction. "If you lovebirds are done, we're heading back! Mum's got a roast on for tonight."
Sirius turned back to me, bringing my hand up to place a peck on my fingers before standing. With a heave, he placed me next to him.
"No more talk of dying, yeah?" He said, adjusting his Gryffindor scarf still around my neck from the trip to St. Mungos. I grasped his hand in my own, beginning to lead us towards the other Marauders.
"No promises," I replied with a shrug.