Ravenclaw's Bracelet

By snapeophile

Chapter 1: A Gift with Strings Attached

"Macnair! Goyle!" hissed Lord Voldemort. "Have you regained Ravenclaw's bracelet yet?"

The two terrified Death Eaters lay prone at his feet. "My Lord, we are close! Please, my Lord, more time is needed. We traced the bracelet to America. We eliminated the Muggle buyer and his brats, but he did not have the bracelet with him. We are close, my Lord, very close!" Macnair pleaded.

" Crucio" hissed Lord Voldemort, pausing to savor their cries of pain as his two loyal servants writhed before him. "Return with that bracelet or feel the full wrath of my displeasure. I need not remind you how important this bracelet is to me, or what happened to the demented old witch who released it."

"Yes, my Lord, we thank you for your mercy," stammered Goyle, as the two grown men slunk backwards on the ground, removing themselves from Lord Voldemort's circle.

A continent away, Emma Doherty inspected her letter addressed to Mrs. Macnair; it had been returned to sender with no forwarding address. "What could have happened to her?" Emma wondered out loud. "Poor Ian. I don't even know if his father is alive. He's never been here."

Mrs. Macnair was the one to visit Ian, pay his tuition, and receive progress reports. Very proper and British, recalled Emma; and very interested in her son's welfare, almost obsessively so. When she visited the school, she would spend as much time with her autistic son as possible, gently touching his face when speaking to him, never bothering about spilled food or missed social cues.

On one visit Emma had overheard a hushed cell phone conversation of Mrs. Macnair's. The British woman had told the caller that her husband and some Lord—"Lord Vardemont? Voldimont?"—Emma wasn't sure—was ashamed of the boy, that people of her "blood" did not tolerate imperfect children. Emma, livid, had tried to interrupt the conversation, but Mrs. Macnair silenced her with a haughty glare, and the incident was never mentioned again.

Emma was not concerned at the lack of an emergency contact. Ian had spent three years there, and she had limited power of attorney to see to his medical needs. He would stay with her as long as he needed. That's the joy of owning your own school—you can keep the kids tuition-free with no one to complain to, Emma thought wryly.

She dropped Mrs. Macnair's letter onto her desk and headed downstairs. It was her habit to check on her boarding students before she left.

Roberta Owens was the overnight nurse and surrogate mother to all. "Emma, make sure you eat something tonight. And get some sleep! You're looking haggard."

Emma smiled to herself, wished them sweet dreams and headed bravely into her night.

Emma listened for the thunk of the deadbolt's release. She paused and strained her ears, waiting, hoping irrationally, for the sounds she knew would not come. Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered how they felt, sounded, smelled—little twin boys running down the hallway in slipper socks, yelling her name, jumping into her arms. Identical, yet so different. Five-year-olds; in their minds ready to set out and conquer the world. Freckled redheads just like their father. And Rick would come down the hall after them, take her in his arms and pull her into the apartment, welcoming her, loving her.

It was all anyone could want, she thought bitterly as she entered the cold, dark apartment. "I won't cry! I won't!" she told herself fiercely, but she fought a losing battle. It had been twelve weeks since the suicidal cab driver had crossed the center lane, crashed into their car head-on and killed her family. Twelve weeks of being empty and shattered.

"If it weren't for the school, I probably wouldn't be here now," she said out loud, "and that might not be a bad thing." Kicking off her shoes and turning on the kitchen lights, she poured herself a glass of Pinot. A flash of silvery-gold caught her eye, and she looked once again at her bracelet, the last gift her husband had given her.

The bracelet had been delivered two weeks after the accident. On her birthday. Screaming, hysterical, she had called the auction house demanding answers.

They sent a letter by messenger the next day explaining that her husband had purchased the bracelet and had asked the house to ensure delivery on her birthday. They included an information page with the letter, and after she calmed down, Emma read about her rare, and priceless, bracelet.

It was very old, believed to be from the eleventh century. A stylized eagle was engraved on the center of the disc. Two large, almond-shaped Ceylon sapphires flanked the disc at the beginning of the cuff. Emma learned the decorative figures which overlapped on the upper and lower edges of the cuff were representations of the rune "Algiz." The rune was not translated, and at the time Emma couldn't have cared less.

But tonight, she silently berated herself for not yet finding out the significance of that rune. So many things slipped in and out of her mind these days. Sometimes she thought she was losing her sanity completely as grief overwhelmed her. Sighing, Emma repeatedly traced the outline of the eagle with one trembling finger, lost in the motion, the repetitions calming and soothing her. She crawled into bed, fully clothed.

The next morning, as Emma was leaving for school, two well-dressed muggers rushed into her, pushed her back into her own hallway and slammed the door shut. A man in a black suit tried to clamp his big, beefy hand over her mouth so she could not scream, but he screamed in pain and surprise and pulled his hand off immediately. The other man pointed a wooden stick at her and hissed, "Stupefy!" as a bright light flared. The light reflected off Emma and back to the man, felling him. His associate muttered, "Enervate," then turned to point his stick at Emma's wrist, shouting, "Accio bracelet!" A brighter light filled the hallway, the air crackled with energy, but nothing happened.

Emma struggled, found her voice and started to scream. The first man swore and tried to wrench the bracelet off her wrist, but it would not budge. The second man gritted his teeth against the pain of touching her, forcibly stilled her and tried to insert tin snips between her wrist and the bracelet. He was repelled and thrown against the wall by that crackling energy. Swearing, sweating, frantic, the man in gray shoved Emma into the wall, hard. She lost consciousness, and they left her slumped on the hallway floor.

At Hogwarts Castle, Severus Snape walked resignedly to Albus Dumbledore's office. Albus had requested his immediate presence. That was never good news for a spy. Sighing tiredly, Snape announced this week's inane password: Circus Peanuts. "Why in hell is Albus using the name of a disgusting American candy?" Snape wondered aloud to himself as he entered the Headmaster's office.