Chapter 26

6 September, 1958 Third Floor, St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

Anneliese and Beau brought Wren to see her that morning. She was just the thing for Dorcas's tormented mind and heart. Who could suffer melancholia with an effervescent, golden curled five year old on their lap?

Anneliese hovered, wary of Wren's weight and Dorcas's healing abdomen.

"How has school been?" Dorcas asked, shocked at her own level and engaged tone.

"I like school. We have a hamster!" Wren replied.

"What's the hamster's name?"

"Charlie," Wren answered.

"Do you like your teacher?"

Wren nodded, playing with Dorcas's limp and untidy hair.

Dorcas could hear her daughter's thoughts: She was happy and relieved to get to see her mother. When she'd been packed off to stay with Anneliese and Beau, she believed that she'd been a bad girl and was not going to be allowed to see her mummy anymore.

Dorcas could understand her confusion. What could anyone tell a five year old about a situation like this?

Cherry slipped into the room unobtrusively, standing just inside the doorway. Cal had filled Dorcas in on the visitation roster. Cherry had been by her side anytime that Cal could not be.

And Anneliese. There was no one else alive besides Cal that she would entrust with the care of her daughters. Though she had two children of her own, one a baby, Anneliese had never given a second thought to caring for Dorcas's girls.

The only part of her tight-knit group that she had not seen yet was Jonas. She considered him to be the only family she had left (Gemma was absolutely discounted from that list). But she had not seen him since she woke up yesterday. She knew he'd been busy yesterday taking Ryann to school. But today…

Dorcas knew that Ryann had been by her bedside nearly as much as Cherry had. Cal would not let her sleep at the hospital, but allowed her days to be filled with sitting and waiting for Dorcas to wake up. She worried how much Ryann knew, how much she would be able to pick up from the thoughts of others. Cal's thoughts were the ones that Dorcas was most worried about. She remembered that the night before her accidental poisoning—no, not accidental, intentional—she'd told Cal that Ryann could read his mind.

They'd talked about the thoughts and memories that Ryann could have potentially been privy to. Their conversation mainly concerned Tom. But Cal could expose other truths to Ryann inadvertently. Dorcas's mind rested on the memory she'd shared with Cal last year of the man who attacked her at the nightclub she used to sing at. The one that she'd stunned. He'd fallen and hit his head. She'd killed him.

Did Ryann know that her mother was a murderer? Did she know that her real father helped her to cover it up? That the father who raised her had excused the crime away?

Dorcas wondered what these realizations could do to her daughter. Could they give her a moral flexibility concerning human life that Dorcas would have abhorred?

Ryann had probably seen more details about her mother's poisoning and her brother's birth and death than was healthy for a twelve year old, considering Cal's proximity to all of it.

But Cal couldn't simply stop thinking. It wasn't his fault that his mind was completely open to Ryann.

She resolved again as she had on the night before her accident to seek out the advice of the wisest person she knew on the matter. She would have to ask Dumbledore about what could be done to protect Ryann.

"My brother died."

Wren's statement pulled Dorcas roughly out of her own thoughts. Wren was filling her mother in on the things that had happened while she was sleeping. It was her five-year-old coping mechanism to talk about the things that confused her.

Even though Dorcas knew Wren hadn't meant to upset her, she couldn't stop the flood of tears that the simple statement had produced.

Dorcas noted the uncomfortable shift that everyone in the room had made.

"Yes, he did, my darling. Does that make you sad?"

Wren shrugged her shoulders and returned to knotting Dorcas's hair.

"Come, my love. Let's get some chocolate biscuits in the tea shop," Anneliese enticed, pulling Wren off of Dorcas's lap. She hefted the child onto her hip and left with Beau for the fifth floor tea room.

Dorcas wiped her eyes as Cherry came to sit next to her on the bed.

"Let's do something about that hair, darling. You look a fright," Cherry said.

She dug into her handbag, removing a car's gear shifter, a torch, a length of electrical wiring, and finally a comb. She silently attempted to run it through the knots that Wren had made.

Dorcas let Cherry comb her hair into some semblance of order. Cherry twisted the dark tresses into a neat chignon at her neck. She did feel better, calmer.

"Is Jonas here?" Dorcas asked.

Cherry nodded. "He's probably talking to the Prewetts. Would you like me to go and get him?"

"The Prewetts?" Dorcas wondered why they would be here and why Jonas would be in council with them.

"Auror Prewett is in charge of the poisoning investigation. Gideon and Theresa have been here often too, helping out."

Dorcas nodded. Of course the incident would be investigated. It was attempted murder. No, actual murder, Dorcas ammended, thinking of her son.

A nurse came by with an enormous bouquet of the lightest pink peonies, glistening with enchanted dew drops. She excused herself for the interruption and placed them on the bedside table.

"They'll be from Professor Dumbledore, the dear," Cherry explained, plucking the card from the flowers and handing it to Dorcas as the nurse retreated. "He sends a fresh bunch every week."

Dorcas looked at the card curiously. The professor sent her flowers every week? She supposed that it was for Cal's benefit. He adored his head of house.

"Another week, another wish for your speedy recovery

With great admiration and love,

Albus"

Great admiration and love. How nice.

Dorcas laid the card aside.

She was startled when she heard a series of shouts coming from male voices further down the ward. Dorcas's instinct, stemming from her work on the Long-Term Spell Damage Ward, was to hop out of bed and investigate the commotion. On her ward, it was usually a patient who was agitated or in a hysteria brought on by their mental trauma.

This was a heated argument. And it was approaching. Dorcas did not leap up to investigate.

"She's my patient and I forbid it!" Cal's voice boomed down the ward.

"Your patient? This isn't even your ward, Cal! She's my family and I say they can talk to her. I want to know who tried to murder my cousin!" Jonas's voice matched Cal's for volume and vehemence.

"I also want to know who tried to murder my wife and murdered my child, but now's not a good time. She hasn't been conscious for even twelve hours!"

The two men entered with the two silent Prewetts behind them, Theresa trailing after Gideon.

"Cal," Dorcas chastised. "I'm surprised at you! You know that you shouldn't be shouting on the ward. You could upset the patients!"

The private room became very crowded with people.

"Apologies," Cal said stiffly, kissing Dorcas's forehead. He glared at Jonas.

Dorcas didn't know what to say. She rarely heard either man shout. The fact that their argument was about her was vexing. Cal and Jonas had always gotten along. Dorcas liked to think of them as friends, even.

"Hi, Dorcas! It's so good to see you!" Theresa said, trying to diffuse the tension in the room.

"Theresa." Dorcas smiled and held a hand out to her.

A curious wave of emotion was coming off of Theresa as she neared and took the offered hand. She felt a tremendous amount of guilt.

Gideon lingered behind his new wife, clearly uncomfortable. Dorcas remembered vividly, as he likely did, the end of their partnership in the case of Hokey the house elf. She had never made the effort to clear the air with him. Gideon's presence here now seemed to bridge that rift between them somehow.

Fabian Prewett was the consummate Auror. Only steps inside the room, he was reaching for the notepad in the inside breast pocket of his coat. His head was filled with a litany of questions.

Cherry had been silently fuming next to Dorcas on the bed. She slipped her feet to the floor and said, "I'm going to go powder my nose." She smoothed her cotton dress with great care. "Gentlemen," she said, politely acknowledging the Prewetts.

On her way out, she yanked Jonas behind her by the sleeve of his shirt, slamming him into the doorframe as she did. Dorcas could tell that her cousin was about to receive an epic telling off.

:::

9 February, 1941 Great Hall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Dorcas sipped her pumpkin juice, lost in thought at the Ravenclaw table when an owl flew in and dropped a bundle of mail on her plate of toast. She untied the string that held several folded newspapers and a parchment envelope together.

As she read her mother's letter, the whining voice of Myrtle Warren cut through her concentration. Olive Hornby had made a comment about the way that Myrtle chewed her food. Dorcas wanted to point out to Myrtle that she did not need Olive's masticatory approval; or perhaps to point out to Olive that the Ravenclaw table was twenty meters long with dozens of other seats that she could choose from that were not directly across from Myrtle. Or, most enticingly of all, Dorcas thought, the girls should be tied together with magic until they learned to get along (or at least tolerate one another).

Dorcas said none of these things to either of the girls. She finished the letter. Mother was working a lot, Morty sends his love, Betty says hello.

The bundle of newspapers drew Dorcas's attention next. She cast a furtive glance at the Slytherin table before opening the stack of newsprint. Tom was not looking in her direction. He was talking to Roman Flint. It appeared to be an amicable exchange. Boys! You'd never have guessed that just over one month ago Tom had broken Roman's nose. Dorcas shook her head.

Secure in her belief of Tom's distraction, she opened the paper on top of the stack. The masthead declared the paper to be the Great Hangleton Gazette.

"Nothing's moving on that paper. That's not the Prophet," her roommate, Zelda Weston pointed out.

"No," Dorcas explained. "It's a Muggle publication."

This didn't seem to interest Zelda as much as the impending trip to Hogsmeade that was planned for Saturday and she turned her attention back to Charys and Mohit, leaving Dorcas to read in peace.

Dorcas felt somewhat guilty taking out a subscription to a newspaper that was from the town next to the village where Tom's (maybe, almost certain) father lived. He'd never expressly forbidden her from spying on his potential kin, but she knew that he would certainly be annoyed if he found her reading the Gazette.

She'd learned a middling amount of information about the Riddle family in the two months or so that she'd been receiving the publication. She'd learned that the Riddle family owned a significant amount of the land around Great Hangleton and the entire village in which their own home resided, making them the major employer of the townspeople. Tom Riddle's (Dorcas began to think of him as Tom, Sr.) mother and father were named Thomas and Mary.

Tom, Sr. was unmarried.

Dorcas found this bit of information the most interesting of all. How could a man that was handsome, in his thirties, and heir to a substantial landowner not have a wife?

An item in the paper she was scanning caught her attention: Preparations Underway for Riddle Fortieth Anniversary.

Dorcas read on voraciously.

Riddle House, seat of the illustrious Thomas Riddle and his wife Mary, begin penning the guest list and ordering the feast for the marking of their fortieth nuptial anniversary. The family will be taking on additional staff for the engagement from Friday fortnight until Monday. Please inquire with Mrs. Wharton, housekeeper. Two references of good standing are required for an interview.

Dorcas knew that it was unpardonable that she was still looking into the family that she believed were Tom's people. But she couldn't help it. A scheme took shape in her mind and she couldn't shake it loose. What if she applied for a position serving at the party and managed to meet Tom, Sr.? Or better yet, she could poke around the house for conclusive proof that he was Tom's father? She could convince Tom to come and meet him if she could but show him proof of the familial connection.

Her mind worked rapidfire, hammering out scenario after scenario.

She looked at the date of the edition she'd been reading. This Gazette had been published on Monday of this week. The anniversary celebration would be two weeks from Saturday night.

Swinging her legs over the bench, she collected her mother's letter and the stack of Gazettes and headed to the library to write to Mrs. Wharton. She was already fabricating references in her mind.

:::

9 February, 1941 Library, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

"Should I even ask who Mrs. Wharton is?" Tom inquired, kissing the top of her head before taking the seat next to her.

Dorcas flipped the letter that she'd been writing over and adjusted some school books to cover the stack of Gazettes that sat next to her.

"Family friend," Dorcas lied, feeling crummy that it came so easily to her.

Tom didn't seem all that interested in a letter to a family friend and made no further inquiries.

"Have you heard about the Hogsmeade trip?" Tom asked, changing the subject.

"Unavoidable. Everyone's talking about it."

Tom nodded. "A circus! That kind of thing doesn't come to town all that often."

Dorcas had seen the leaflet hanging on the notice board in the Ravenclaw common room. She was intrigued to find out what a magical circus looked like. What kind of creatures would be on display? But she was surprised that Tom was enthusiastic about it.

"Should be a nice time. Did you want to ask me to go with you?" Dorcas batted her lashes at him comically. "Like on a date?"

"Of course I want to take you, you're my girl!"

Dorcas didn't get compliments or terms of affection often from Tom and so she learned to bask in the rare occasions that presented themselves. "My girl" was as good as "the love of my life" coming from Tom.

"But that's not why I'm here."

"Oh?" Dorcas asked.

"I want your opinion on some things," Tom said, lowering his voice.

"Yeah. Alright," Dorcas agreed. "What things?"

Tom shook his head. "Not here. Finish up your letter and meet me in our place."

He was gone before Dorcas could nod her head.

"Okay," she said to herself. Returning to her letter, she finished by signing an alias and folded it and her phony references and stuffed them into an envelope. She would need to place some Muggle stamps on the envelope to make it look less suspicious.

She packed up her things, taking care to place the Gazettes securely into one of her textbooks. She would stop by the owlery first before going to find Tom in the secret room. There was a Muggle post box in Hogsmeade, so the owl only needed to travel into the village and drop the letter for the postman to send on its way.

:::

6 September, 1958 Third Floor, St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

"What were you doing when you came into contact with the poison?" Fabian Prewett asked from the chair beside Dorcas's bed.

Cal stood sentry on Dorcas's other side, holding her hand.

Gideon and Theresa lingered near the door. Cherry and Jonas had not returned.

"I was trying to clear a workspace on my desk and knocked some of the post onto the floor. A memory phial had smashed on the tile—well, I thought it was a memory phial. I tried to clean it up and cut myself. That's when it happened."

"And the phial that the poison was in," Fabian directed as he took notes. "What did it look like?"

Dorcas shrugged. "Like any glass container that you might store a small amount of liquid in. I use them to contain memories."

Fabian nodded and wrote.

Dorcas tried to concentrate on Fabian's questions and on recalling the memory of the poisoning precisely as it had happened. But Gideon's and Theresa's thoughts were hard to ignore and they pulled Dorcas's attention away from the Auror's inquiry.

There was a consensus among the Prewetts, including Theresa, that the poisoning was the work of Stephen Muybridge. The motive was clear: retribution for uncovering his control over Theresa and the murder of her husband Jim Allen.

Theresa's guilty feelings from earlier were now placed into context. She blamed herself for bringing Muybridge into Dorcas's life. She blamed herself for the death of Dorcas's child.

Dorcas didn't lend voice to what she read in their minds. They did not know about her peculiar ability.

"Dorcas?" Cal said, squeezing her hand gently.

Dorcas looked up at Cal and blinked mutely.

"Auror Prewett asked you a question," Cal prompted.

"Sorry," Dorcas apologized, shaking the distractions from her mind.

"Of course," the Auror allowed. "I asked if there was any accompanying note with the phial."

Dorcas looked down at her lap. "No. Well, there may have been. I made such a mess of the pile. I don't know. You should ask my assistant, Gwen. She goes through all of the mail."

There was a gentle knock on the door and Healer Crawford, her partner on the Long-Term Spell Damages Ward peeked in. He was a middle aged man with spectacles and a timid voice.

"Healer Meadowes?" he asked. "A word?"

Dorcas saw in his mind that he wanted her husband. Cal looked at her, assuming that he wanted to speak with her.

"Sorry," Healer Crawford clarified. "Cal, a word?"

"Go," Dorcas said, releasing her husband's hand. "I'll be fine."

Fabian closed his notebook. "You don't have to leave, Healer. I'm done for now. Thank you for your time, Dr. Meadowes."

Cal followed Gideon and Fabian out of the room to speak with Healer Crawford. Theresa hung back.

"I'm glad to see you're recovering," Theresa said, taking the seat Fabian had just vacated.

Dorcas smiled, but her mind was reaching out for Reginald Crawford or her husband. She was curious to know what her colleague wanted with her husband. She could not reach either one. Of course Cal would lead Crawford far enough down the ward that Dorcas could not eavesdrop.

"Fabian and Gideon think that Stephen Muybridge is behind the poisoning, Dorcas," Theresa said, miserably.

Dorcas blinked, hoping that it was a passable approximation of shock.

"Which means, ultimately, I am to blame for your baby's death," she said in a voice that trembled.

"Theresa," Dorcas said. "That's not true. Don't blame yourself. You are a victim of Muybridge too. He's a terrible person. They exist in the world. They hurt good people. That's just how it is."

"Yes," Theresa allowed, with tears in her eyes. "But I'm responsible for this one terrible person in particular."

"You're not responsible for anyone but yourself, Theresa," Dorcas said, feeling very much as if she were in a counselling session at this moment. She patted her young friend's hand reassuringly.

:::

9 February, 1941 Secret Room, Seventh Floor, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Dorcas picked her way carefully back to the makeshift cave in the secret room, cursing herself for being clumsy as she went. Her knee smarted from where she fell on the icy Owlery steps. The accident wouldn't be half so mortifying had it not occurred so close to the anniversary of the fall she'd taken down the same steps last year.

"Birdie?" Tom exclaimed when Dorcas crawled into the den of cushions and quilts. "What happened?" he asked with concern, looking at her knee.

Dorcas hadn't inspected it, but simply brushed the ice and muck from her stockings and kept walking, praying silently that no one had seen her characteristic lack of grace. When she sat and gave her injury some attention, she was surprised by how much blood there was. The stocking over her left kneecap had a sizable hole, smeared red with blood.

She knew that there would be a bruise there by morning.

"I slipped on the Owlery steps," Dorcas said, ducking her head to conceal her blush of embarassment.

"Okay," Tom said sternly, "I forbid you from sending any letters without me from here on."

Removing his wand from his pocket, he bent over her knee and mended the laceration. Rubbing his thumb across the bloody hole in her stocking, he confirmed that the cut was gone. He declared it healed with a gentle kiss that he pressed to the exposed skin.

Brushing her windswept hair from her face and settling under a thick quilt, Dorcas changed the subject from her humiliating tumble.

"So what did you want to talk to me about?"

Tom eagerly gathered some papers and crawled under the blanket next to her.

"I'm trying to come up with some plans for obtaining some of these ingredients for the Horcrux potion," Tom began, passing Dorcas a list.

"Yeah?" Dorcas asked, scanning the list. She knew the ingredients and conceded that some of the materials that they would need to gather would present a significant challenge to carrying off Tom's plan for immortality. Tom's neat script annotated potential sources for some of the least tricky items on the list. Others were noted with a question mark where Tom had drawn a blank for the source. Dorcas's eyes found the last item on the list. She laughed.

Brosimum guianense sap (Snakewood sap- Greenhouse 3)

Lacewing flies (Slughorn's stores)

Valerianella afinis (extinct) (?)

Liquid mercury (?)

Basilisk, scarlet plume (only found on males)(?)

Ivory medela, (Oni tusk, Circus)

"I don't even know what an Oni is. Do you think the circus that's coming to Hogsmeade will have one? And how do we get some of its horn?"

"Tusk," Tom corrected, stretching out under the quilt beside her. "It's an ogre of sorts. Japanese in origin."

Dorcas looked up at him in shock. "You want to steal an ogre's tusk?"

Tom nodded. "That's what I wanted to run by you."

Dorcas concealed her disappointment by pretending to scan the list again. She'd hoped that the Hogsmeade outing and the circus would be an actual date. But their time together seemed to revolve around Horcruxes exclusively. Dorcas entertained a dark thought that Tom was only using her for his plans. But she dismissed the idea out of hand, reminding herself of all the things Tom had done for her that had not been Horcrux-related.

"I wanted you to provide a distraction, while I stun the beast and get the tusks."

"Tusks?" Dorcas asked, placing emphasis on the plural. "You don't need both! You only need three grams."

Tom shrugged dismissively. "So, when you get to the main tent, you're waiting for the Oni to come out into the ring. It'll be paraded out toward the end, probably." He produced the same flyer that she'd seen on the Ravenclaw announcements board. "It seems to be the main draw for the circus, so I think it'll be pretty well protected. I'll need you to be a lookout. You'll have to stun anyone who gets in my way."

Dorcas saw his mind flit to the memory of Evlyn Rosier on the grass out cold when Dorcas had stunned him on Christmas Eve. She wanted to deliver a biting retort, but realized that she was only upset with Tom because his plan had taken precedence over her. She held her tongue. She picked at the frayed seam of the quilt that covered her and Tom and considered this plan for a moment.

"I could get into trouble for performing magic outside of school grounds," Dorcas pointed out, knowing full well that this would not concern Tom.

He shrugged again. "I trust that you'll be extremely cautious then."

"Anything else?" Dorcas asked, she wanted her words to have a hard edge, but it came out pathetic and resigned.

"No," Tom said, taking back his notes and the flyer from her. "Should there be? Am I forgetting something?"

Dorcas shook her head and pushed herself onto her knees. Her left kneecap twinged a bit, reminding her of her earlier fall. She crawled to the cave's exit.

"Where are you going?" Tom asked.

"To the library. I'm helping Jonas with Transfiguration this afternoon."

"Blow it off and stay here with me," Tom said.

Dorcas was too annoyed to respond, standing and straightening her skirt. She left the secret room vowing that she wouldn't come back tonight. She needed to make herself less available to Tom. She was beginning to feel a bit of herself draining away the more that she gave to him. But, at the same moment, she knew she would continue to give everything to Tom until she had nothing left. A hopelessness descended over her like a black cloud.

:::

6 September, 1958 Third Floor, St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

"Did your fiance give you a good telling off for yelling on the ward?" Dorcas asked.

Jonas, sitting in the chair beside Dorcas's hospital bed, smiled and started to answer but was brought up short by Dorcas's words. "She was only worried that I-" He looked at her with comically widened eyes. "Wait, how did you know?"

Dorcas feigned ignorance. "I didn't until just now," she said, with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She wanted to be happy for her cousin and her best friend. They'd clearly been hiding some good news because of Dorcas and Cal's tragedy. Dorcas didn't want anyone to place their lives on hold because of her.

"That's devious, Dr. Meadowes!" Jonas chastised.

"Tell me how it happened. Where. When. I need a bit of good news just now," Dorcas prodded.

Jonas shook his head. "Cherry won't like me stealing this moment from her. She's been waiting until you're out of the hospital before she tells you. You have to pretend like you don't know anything!"

Dorcas agreed to Jonas's demands with a nod. "I'll let Cherry tell me. But not when I get out of the hospital. That could be weeks away. I'll make her tell me tomorrow."

"Fine," Jonas said. "But don't tell her you got it out of me."

Dorcas shrugged cryptically. "Get what out of you?"

There was a knock on the open door of Dorcas's hospital room as Cal entered. He held a file in his hand, but his mind was steadfastly fixed on a mundane topic: tomorrow's patient rounds on the first floor ward.

"I'm happy for you, Jonas," Dorcas said finally. "I've always wanted this for you two."

Cal looked curiously between Dorcas and her cousin, but did not inquire what Dorcas was happy about.

"Thanks. I'll leave you two alone,"Jonas said, standing up to give her a kiss on her cheek before departing.

Dorcas watched Jonas go before turning her attention to her husband. She was thankful that Jonas's boiling temper from earlier had subsided and that he hadn't pushed her for details regarding the poisoning. Dorcas was done reliving that particular nightmare for the moment.

Cal sat, clutching the file, but keeping his thoughts on other things.

"Are you going to tell me what's in that file?" Dorcas asked, sounding more annoyed than she'd meant. "Or am I going to have to pull the information from your mind myself?"

Her husband didn't respond, but propped his elbows on his knees and rested his forehead in his palms. Dorcas could see that he was trying to arrange some facts and make sense out of something that had just happened with Crawford.

"Cal?" Dorcas said, the frustration in her voice was replaced by trepidation. "What is it? Tell me."

Handing her the file, he looked at her and Dorcas did not like what she saw on his face. He was already pale and drawn from the days that he'd spent with their son, the experience of his death, being father to his other two children, physician to her. It was clear on his features: whatever the file contained was another burden to be shouldered.

How much could one person endure?

Dorcas took the file and opened it. A film similar to a Muggle x-ray rested inside. It was not an x-ray. It was a neurological scan. In the Long-Term Spell Damages Ward, Dorcas looked at dozens of these scans (performed them as well). A cross section of a brain rotated slowly on the film. In several places, Dorcas noticed old scarring. Some of the hemorrhages in the brain tissue appeared to be more recent.

"Whose scan is this?" Dorcas asked with concern. She was confused as to why Crawford had taken the scan to Cal and not come straight to her. "One of my patients or Crawford's?"

"Do you remember when you found out you were pregnant?" Cal asked.

Dorcas blinked. She didn't see why Cal would venture into such painful territory at just this moment.

"Cal, I don't want to talk about it. Please," she said, trying to keep her tone diplomatic.

He pushed on. "You'd had some loss of feeling in your fingers. Blurred vision. You collapsed on the ward."

Dorcas dropped the scan to her lap. She wasn't looking at a patient's scan, she realized.

It was hers.

"I wanted to do a scan then. But you didn't want one," Cal explained. He was not accusatory. Just recounting the details for her. "I ordered one about a week ago."

Dorcas shook her head. "Do you think the poisoning…?" her voice became a whisper and she couldn't pull enough air into her lungs to finish her question.

"I wanted to know everything I could find out. You weren't showing any signs of progress, Dorcas."

She swallowed and stared at Cal. He stared back.

"Could Moonseed Poison do this? Vascular damage, heart failure, yes. But it doesn't attack the brain like this." She waved the scan for effect.

"No, I don't think it's due to the poisoning," Cal agreed. "The scarring appears to be older."

Dorcas shook her head in astonishment. "How am I able to talk to you right now? How am I conscious? How am I alive right now?" Rising in her was a panic so acute, it doused her in a cold sweat and stole the air from her chest. "Oh my god!" she finished as she thought (not for the first time since she'd woken up) just how close her girls were to being motherless.

Only this new revelation was a bomb in her head. She was no longer worried that she'd almost died and left her husband and girls forever. Now, she was worried that it could happen at any time in the future. It was a landmine under her, waiting to detonate.

"Your uncle," Cal said, suddenly pulling Dorcas out of her panic-stricken musings. "How long was he at Wingate?"

"About a year," Dorcas answered. "But this is different, Cal. I haven't been subjected to Unforgivable Curses. I've never experienced any COCs."

"That you know of," Cal qualified. "How else would you explain that? You're the expert!"

He rubbed his eyes and sighed.

"Morty's seizures presented almost immediately after your mother took him out of there, right?" Cal finally said after a long silence.

"I believe so," Dorcas said, trying to remember everything her mother told her about her uncle's experiences at Wingate and after.

"Did she believe that his injuries would eventually kill him?" Cal's voice shook.

Dorcas reached for her husband. Cal stood and neared her bed.

"I don't think my mother would have told me anything that alarming. She always insisted that he was happy and lived a normal life. But I don't know if he would have died from what they did to him…" Dorcas trailed off before she could voice the rest of the thought. Her mother and uncle had died because of circumstances unrelated to Wingate.

She shifted her hips to one side and pulled back her covers so that Cal could slip in beside her.

Dorcas rested her head against his shoulder. "I feel as well as can be expected for someone who's been in a coma for a month. We can't do anything about this now," Dorcas said, tossing the scan onto the bedside table next to her.

Cal sighed heavily and wrapped his arms around her. He did not argue with her assessment.

:::

14 February, 1941 Ravenclaw Common Room, Fourth Floor, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Dorcas was spending more time in the Ravenclaw Common Room in the past week than she had in the previous year and a half she'd been at the school. She was slowly coming to an understanding about her relationship with Tom. Belatedly, she was realizing how all-consuming he was. This didn't change her feelings toward him. She knew without a doubt that she loved him. That was a certainty.

But her devotion to him had meant a sacrifice in many other areas.

Besides the roommates that she lived with in the Second Year Girls' Dormitory, she only knew a handful of her own housemates on a surface level. And the four girls that she'd been sharing living quarters with for more than a year were becoming as good as strangers. She'd barely spent any time with them. Other than Cherry and Anneliese, she had no close girlfriends to speak of.

She spent the waking hours that she wasn't in class with Tom. Mostly, they holed up in the secret room plotting. On occasion the conversation between them might turn to favorite songs, books, interesting careers, the future, hopes and dreams. But those occasions were rare indeed. Their exchanges these days were about Horcruxes.

Dorcas began to detest the word.

Her resolve to help Tom disprove the inevitability of death hadn't wavered. She still wanted that for him almost as much as he wanted it for himself. But there was no reciprocation of sentiment. Tom had never been interested in what Dorcas wanted or needed.

Perhaps, Dorcas thought, she didn't know herself what that want or need was.

But the relationship had definitely shifted perceptibly in Dorcas's mind. It was less like a relationship between a boyfriend and girlfriend and more of a dynamic similar to scientist and assistant. She was there to provide any support that Tom might need in his pursuit of immortality. Anything else was trivial.

Dorcas knew that her decision not to go to Tom in the evenings, though initially made in anger and frustration, had been the right one. It was as if she'd been in a long slumber, but had now been awakened to a world that had moved on without her. And she was determined to join it.

She looked down at the letter in her hand as she sat next to the fire and listened to the friendly conversations around her. Always around her and never (these days) including her. Most of the chatter revolved around the Hogsmeade outing in just two days.

The letter in her hand was from Mrs. Wharton. Dorcas's references had done the trick and she (Daisy, rather) had an interview with the Riddle's housekeeper on Sunday. But she wasn't sure that she wanted to keep the appointment.

She knew that going to Little Hangleton behind Tom's back and against his wishes was the proverbial Rubicon. Maybe, writing to the housekeeper and hatching the plan behind Tom's back in the first place had been the line. And she'd crossed it.

It felt like a betrayal.

Would she have had the nerve to leave the school on her own? Use the Vanishing Cabinet? Catch the Knight Bus? All without Tom? She doubted it very much.

Dorcas was about to tear Mrs. Wharton's letter in two and toss it in the fire, but was stopped by Mavis Taylor, a first year Ravenclaw who approached her.

"Dorcas? That's you, right?" Mavis asked.

Dorcas laid the letter aside, untorn. "Yes," Dorcas answered.

"This is for you," Mavis said, thrusting a folded bit of parchment into her hands before turning to the dormitories.

Dorcas looked at the letter. It was sealed with black wax.

Breaking the seal, Dorcas opened it and recognized the handwriting immediately.

The letter was from Tom.

Birdie,

Meet me tonight. Our place.

Please come.

TMR

Dorcas had just been about to burn the housekeeper's letter and head upstairs for an early night.

But she knew she wouldn't be able to ignore Tom's request.

She looked down at the uniform jumper and wool skirt she was wearing and decided that she could make a better effort for the occasion.

In her dormitory, she rummaged in her trunk for something to wear that was neither wool, nor thick and frumpy.

She found a light cotton dress that she wouldn't have normally worn in February. Putting it on and surveying herself in the mirror, she wondered if the dress was meant to stir some feeling in Tom. She didn't really understand why she bothered. Her clothing choice would most likely be met with distracted indifference.

She pulled her hair out of the plait she normally tied it into and pinned it in a more sophisticated way with the tortoise shell comb that Anneliese and Cherry had given her.

Surveying herself once more in the mirror, she shrugged. It was some effort, she supposed. But in service to what, she had no clue.

Dorcas threw her school robe over the dress in order to avoid curious looks in the corridors. Stuffing Tom's letter and the one from the Riddles' housekeeper into her pocket, she left Ravenclaw Tower.

The secret room was filled with music. As she picked her way through the trails of discarded things, Dorcas began to recognize the tune. It was Benny Goodman, one of the records that Jonas had given her for Christmas.

As the swing melody bounced off of the enormous towers of broken furniture, wrecked statuary, damaged paintings, and other broken things, Dorcas felt her mood shift. She slipped the school robe from her shoulders, knowing that the cotton dress with the red flowers on it had been the right choice.

She had just been lamenting that Tom never made any romantic gestures, didn't make the effort to date her. But she got the feeling that was exactly what he was doing tonight.

"Birdie, you came!" Tom smiled and approached her excitedly. "What do you think?"

Looking around the small space at the mouth of their cave, Dorcas could make out several candles, the Orrery hanging overhead catching and throwing the light. Her turntable had been placed on a polished wooden bureau next to something concealed beneath a dusty cloth.

"For me?" Dorcas gaped stupidly.

She laid her school robe across a chair and spun in a slow circle to take in the full effect of the space.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Birdie!" Tom said, removing the cloth from the object on the bureau next to the record player.

Beneath it was a bell jar that held a violet. The petals began to shiver and flap. Dorcas thought at first that the flower might shed its deep purple plumes. Instead, each velvety petal became a tiny bird alighting on a miniature elm.

"That is a beautiful bit of magic, Tom," Dorcas, said with wide eyes. "Thank you!"

The birds only stayed on the branches for a moment before soaring heavenward and becoming petals on the violet's stalk once more.

"I'm glad you like it," Tom said, clearly pleased at the reaction his gift received.

He stood at arm's length from her for a moment or two studying her aspect. Dorcas knew that the effort she'd decided to make had taken effect.

"You look beautiful tonight, Birdie," Tom finally said.

Dorcas could not keep the color from rising in her cheeks. Compliments from Tom were rare, indeed.

"Dance with me?" Tom asked, smiling his charming smile and taking her hand.

"Er, I don't know how to dance, Tom," Dorcas admitted.

"You did just fine at your uncle's Christmas party.

"That's because you were leading," Dorcas argued.

"I'm leading now," Tom answered, pulling her close.

"How do you know all of these dances?" Dorcas asked, impressed now as she had been at the Christmas party. Her partner guided her expertly through the steps of a fox trot.

"I spend a lot of time in the summers at clubs that I'm not technically old enough to get into," he said with a wink. Dorcas laughed, imagining Tom dancing with a lot of older women in the kinds of nighttime establishments that her neighbor Betty sang at.

"Want to have some fun?" Tom asked with a mischievous look on his face.

Dorcas nodded and grinned. She was very much enjoying Tom's attention and the lack of mention of Horcruxes.

He took his wand out and pointed it at the turntable. The needle lifted and selected a new groove in the wax of the disk. The tempo jumped immediately with a Gene Krupa intro. Tom began to lead her through an exhilarating sequence of steps that made her heart race.

"What is this?" Dorcas asked, shouting over the music.

"The lindy hop," Tom answered, sending her unexpectedly into a twirl.

Dorcas felt her skirts flying up and caught a provocatively raised eyebrow from Tom.

"I really like that dress," he commented, grabbing her hand and pulling her close once more.

She responded with a shake of the head and a laugh. Dorcas was enjoying herself tonight, being a carefree teenager in love.

When the song changed and the melody turned slow and languid once more, Tom pulled Dorcas to him and laid his cheek against the top of her head.

"You've been avoiding me for nearly a week," Tom pointed out.

Dorcas shook her head slightly where it rested against his chest. "Not avoiding you, Tom."

Tom stopped moving and stared down at her earnestly. "Then what is it? You're angry with me for some reason. I don't know what I'm meant to have done."

Dorcas didn't know if she could explain to Tom why she'd been absent from the secret room for four nights. Since their near clash with the Luftwaffe in Birmingham, they hadn't spent a night at Hogwarts apart from each other. And she'd needed to in order to begin to think clearly again.

"Tom," Dorcas began. "I love you and I want to be with you all of the time."

"Is that bad?" Tom interrupted, bewildered.

"No, it's not," Dorcas continued. "But I feel as if our time together has been consumed with Horcruxes and…"

"I've been ignoring you," Tom finished for her.

"Well, not ignoring," Dorcas qualified. "But less attentive."

"I have been wrapped up in my plans. I admit it. But I want to be a better boyfriend to you. I don't want to lose you, Birdie."

Dorcas smiled up at him and reassured him with a hand pressed to his cheek. "You won't lose me. I just need a little reassurance that you remember I'm still here. And not just as an accessory to your schemes."

"Understood," Tom granted, sealing the promise with a kiss pressed to her lips. "I missed you. Promise not to keep secrets from me anymore. Always tell me how you're feeling. You forget, I can't read your mind."

Dorcas hadn't forgotten that. She was grateful every day for the mysterious gift that kept Tom from sifting through her thoughts. But his request not to keep secrets gnawed at her guilty conscience.

He studied her once again as if he was seeing her clearly for the first time in weeks. His eyes lingered over the lips he'd just claimed, to her throat and the necklace he'd made her hanging around her neck. He trailed his fingers up her arm and then to her neck and finally her hair. He found the comb she'd secured her tresses with and removed it.

It was a curiously intimate gesture.

"Stay with me tonight, Birdie." Tom's voice was low and soft and Dorcas felt like she would have agreed to anything he asked when he asked it like that.

Tom ducked into the little blanketed and cushioned space inside the cast-off furniture structure and fixed Dorcas with a pleading expression.

Dorcas bit her lip, equivocated, and then turned from him. She grabbed her school robe from the chair where she'd discarded it before stooping and following him inside.

He looked relieved. "I thought you were about to leave."

Dorcas smiled and shook her head. She pulled the letter from the Riddles' housekeeper from the pocket of her robe.

He laid across the cushions inside of the space as Dorcas sat uneasily beside him.

"I've realized something in your absence," he said, as he stroked her now loose hair that tumbled down her back.

"What's that?" Dorcas asked, staring at the letter in her hand.

She was mustering the courage to tell him about what she'd done. He'd asked her not to keep secrets and she knew this was a big one. Did she want to bring the wonderful evening and Tom's renewed affections to an end? She wasn't sure if she possessed the courage.

"I don't sleep much as it is. I've found that I can't sleep at all if you're not next to me."

Dorcas nodded distractedly, barely registering his words over her own internal debate.

"What is this?" he asked, taking the letter out of her limp fingers. "Who's Daisy Smith?"

"Me," Dorcas said, realizing that it was best to tell Tom what she'd been up to instead of putting it off. "Tom, you asked me not to keep secrets from you, but I have. There's a party at the Riddles' house in Little Hangleton next Saturday."

She forced herself to meet his eyes.

He sat up slowly, looking between her and the letter.

"How did you find that out?" Tom asked.

"I took out a subscription to the local paper in Great Hangleton. I applied for a job on the staff for the party. I wanted to find out...I don't know what I wanted to do. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pried."

"This says you have an interview on Sunday."

"Yes, but I'm not going to go. I was going to burn that letter because I knew it would upset you." She said all of this in a rush, wanting to explain her side before Tom went into a rage.

"I think you should go," Tom said, studying the response from the Riddles' housekeeper. "I'll go with you."

"What?" Dorcas asked, confused at his response.

"I've been thinking that this other Tom is the only lead I have about my family. So, I think it's time to find out what we can about him."

"Really?" Dorcas brightened at the prospect of visiting the Riddles undercover.

"Oh!" she said suddenly, her expression falling.

Tom shook his head in confusion. "What is it?"

"Well, you can't come. Can you?" Dorcas explained. "You look just like him."

He was unfazed by the dilemma that brought Dorcas up short. "We're magical, Birdie. Changing appearances or even becoming invisible will be no problem."

He marveled at her and kissed her hand.

Dorcas was gobsmacked by his reaction. She thought he'd be furious with her plotting.

He laid back and read the letter once more.

"This is brilliant, Birdie!" he said.

Dorcas smiled and took up residence stretched out along his right side.

"My beautiful, brilliant girl," he beamed, laying the letter aside and turned to face her.

He touched the alabaster pendant at her throat and claimed her lips again, pressing her to the cushions and wrapping the lengths of her hair around his fingers.

Dorcas responded by pulling him closer to her, feeling the reassuring weight of him. How many times had he praised her tonight? She was practically drunk on his affirmation.

:::

16 February, 1941 Ravenclaw Common Room, Fourth Floor, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Dorcas was in a hurry to get to breakfast like the rest of Ravenclaw House. In the midst of the groups that were gathering to head off into Hogsmeade together sat Myrtle Warren, sniffing loudly and wiping huge tears from her cheeks.

Dorcas felt her shoulders slump in frustration. She could read the shades of Myrtle's mind. She was hoping that someone would notice her inconsolate state and approach. Dorcas couldn't bring herself to walk by and out of the door.

"What's wrong?" Dorcas asked, her voice flinty.

"Olive Hornby and Mavis Taylor said that I couldn't come to Hogsmeade with them because I was being a blubbering baby," Myrtle explained.

Dorcas huffed and tapped her foot. "Well, aren't you?"

This was not the response that Myrtle was expecting. She burst into renewed sobs and wailed loudly. A couple of Ravenclaws paused on their way out of the common room and down to breakfast. Dorcas shook her head slightly with a look that said, "Save yourself."

"Myrtle," Dorcas said, trying her best to inject a level of caring into her voice. "You have to stop this nonsense. You want to have friends, don't you?"

"Yes," Myrtle sniffed. "But everyone's so mean!"

Dorcas sighed. "No one wants a crying mess around. This Hogsmeade trip is meant to be fun! Don't you see that if you just dispensed with the tears, you could make friends easily?"

"But Olive said-" Myrtle began.

Dorcas held up a hand. "That's another thing. Stay away from Olive and anyone else who can't be nice to you. Find others to pal around with."

"Like you?" Myrtle hiccuped.

Dorcas blinked. "Well, I don't want a crybaby around anymore than Olive or Mavis. Do you promise to shut the waterworks down?"

"Yes," Myrtle said, removing her glasses and running her shirtsleeve over her eyes.

"Then come on. And be cheery!"

Tom was leaning against the wall opposite the Ravenclaw entrance. His mood darkened visibly when he saw Dorcas emerge with Myrtle in tow.

"Hey," Dorcas said, crossing the busy corridor to him. She was about to explain her mopey shadow, but Myrtle cut her off.

"Hello, Tom," Myrtle said, then giggled.

Dorcas turned slowly to the girl next to her and gave her an incredulous look. Not five seconds before, she was wailing and making a scene. Now she was giggling coquettishly.

"Hello," Tom returned woodenly. His eyes never left Dorcas.

When he took Dorcas's hand, he squeezed it, vicelike for only an instant, and then relaxed it.

Dorcas could hear the thoughts that Tom was making plain in his mind: He wanted to be alone with Dorcas. He felt as if she had been avoiding him, only coming up to the secret room on the seventh floor at night on Thursday because it happened to be Valentine's Day. He was suspicious that Dorcas had brought Myrtle along because she didn't want to be alone with him. But mostly, he was concerned about the many ways in which Myrtle's presence on their outing might disrupt his plans for the Oni tusk.

They were silent all the way to the Great Hall. As they entered, Tom pulled her to one side.

Myrtle stayed annoyingly close to Dorcas, as if sensing that she would be ditched at the first opportunity.

"Go on, Myrtle," Dorcas encouraged. "I'll be right there."

"Birdie." Tom said her pet name with frustration.

"Tom," she cut him off before he could voice any or all of the things she'd already heard in his mind. "She was hysterical. This was the only way I could get her to stop crying."

"Ever thought of ignoring her and walking by just like everyone else?"

"Be kind," Dorcas said. "I'll meet you out front after breakfast."

"We're ditching the extra weight the second we're in Hogsmeade," he hissed before walking off.

:::

It hadn't been easy to ditch Myrtle at all. She seemed to have an innate sense about being left behind or shaken off. Dorcas supposed the girl's whole life may have been in training for this particular talent.

Tom, however, was exceptionally talented at losing people and had disappeared from Dorcas's side for over an hour now.

Dorcas knew the plan, though. Tom wouldn't require her services as lookout until after the main show. In the meantime, she browsed the stalls of merchandise with Myrtle.

Throngs of Hogwarts students milled about, chattering about the upcoming display of macabre and malevolent creatures.

Cal and Rubeus found Dorcas and Myrtle in the crowd.

Dorcas shared a knowing look with Cal when he looked pointedly at Myrtle and raised his eyebrows. She shrugged in answer.

Rubeus was chatting enthusiastically to anyone who would listen about the creatures he hoped to see and to befriend.

"Tha' Acromantula has a clutch o' eggs with 'er. I heard one o' the circus mucks braggin' 'bout it ter a couple o' students."

"Hagrid," Cal said. "I don't think you should go anywhere near the Acromantula, or any of the other creatures, for that matter."

Rubeus looked ready to argue the point when the barker came out of the tent to drum up the crowd before opening the flap to admit them.

Cal dropped fare for four into the man's hat as Dorcas looked around for Tom. She knew he hadn't intended to watch the show. She was supposed to find him once the Oni had been led out of the center ring and back to its cage.

They had seats on the second row of the wooden benches. Dorcas thought they'd have a pretty good view of the action. Cherry and Darren, followed by Beau and Anneliese joined them shortly after.

Popcorn began to fly past Dorcas and she looked around to find some students heckling Rubeus for being too big to see around. There was popcorn dotting his wiry black hair and a sticky green lolly plastered to the back of his coat.

"Sorry!" Rubeus apologized to no one in particular and stood to leave.

Cal placed a hand on Rubeus's arm to stop his giving ground.

"If you can't see, then move," Cal said to the group of hecklers. His authority over the younger gang of boys from Gryffindor was absolute.

They grumbled a bit, but eventually did as he suggested and moved.

"Well, he is too big to be sitting here," Myrtle argued.

Dorcas didn't respond. She just shook her head and reached behind Cal to pluck the lolly from Rubeus's coat.

The tent was crowded with students and villagers, all eager to see rare and frightening creatures.

Dorcas had to admit that she was impressed with the Kappa and the hulking beast that the ringmaster called a Graphorn. But when he next began to tease the crowd into an expectation of seeing a real, in the flesh Basilisk, Dorcas was on the edge of her seat. She wondered if Tom knew that there was a Basilisk on display and if it was a male. The Horcrux potion needed the single red plume only found on a male of the species.

"Basilisks are really rare," Rubeus said, craning his neck, even though his height advantage gave him the clearest view in the room.

They all slumped their shoulders collectively when a small snake with brilliant green scales was paraded out on the arm of a female circus performer that was scantily clad, despite the cold weather.

"What do you reckon?" Cal leaned over and asked her. "A Cockatrice in a falcon's hood?"

"Probably," Dorcas agreed.

"To remove this hood would be to subject each of you fine folks to an instant death," the ringmaster threatened theatrically.

The boys who'd made trouble for Rubeus hooted rudely at the female circus performer, daring her to remove something of hers instead.

"Leave it," Dorcas said under her breath to Cal as he began to stand, glaring at the Gryffindors. She pulled him back down onto the bench beside her.

Following the Basilisk was a truly spectacular beast. The ringmaster declared it to be a Zouwu. Dorcas had never seen one before. It looked to her like some fantastical cross between a lion and a Chinese parade dragon come to life. Vibrant bursts of light came from its mane when it roared. The sound shook the bench underneath Dorcas.

"Oh!" Dorcas heard Rubeus exclaim next to her. "Tha's rare, tha' is! Comes all th' way from China."

"It's beautiful!" Dorcas added, mesmerized by the ruffly red tail which seemed to fill the tent with its feathery folds.

The tail took a long time to disappear behind the tent flap and then the ringmaster announced the Oni.

"Would anyone fancy a sweet?" Dorcas asked, inventing some reason to leave the tent.

"Birdie," Tom voicelessly called her. "Remember the plan. DON'T MESS THIS UP!"

Dorcas was not prepared for the enormous brute that lumbered into the ring. It was larger than an elephant and twice as fierce. When it opened its jaws and released a deafening grunt, her eyes widened as she fixated on its four great fangs. The curling tusks looked even sharper. Dorcas was worried for Tom. How was he going to be able to get a tusk from that beast?

She ducked out of the tent with her heart racing and her palms sweating. She reached the mind of the beast's six wranglers, tethered to the creature by sturdy ropes of magic. As far as she could tell, they had no sense of Tom's planned ambush once they left the ring.

She heard the crowd's reactions and wondered just what the Oni was doing at the moment to elicit such screams and gasps.

"Tom," Dorcas said to herself. "I hope you know what you're doing."

For an instant another voice caught Dorcas's attention. It was the furtive mental voice of her potions master hoping not to be caught in the tent of the unattended Acromantula. He'd apparently timed his clandestine trip to the magical spider's cage while the handlers were distracted by the Oni's performance. He was after rare venom from the arachnid and was planning to steal it.

People began to file out of the tent's entrance, announcing the show's end. Dorcas milled about beside the backstage tents and cages, keeping her eyes sharp for the ringmaster or the handlers. She pretended to mull over a selection of toffees while listening for anyone who seemed agitated by an intruder into the animals' space.

"Birdie, look out! They're right behind me," Dorcas heard Tom's voice shout. She spun around but didn't see him anywhere.

She did, however, see five of the Oni's six wranglers racing toward her shouting furiously. She didn't want to risk using magic outside of school. She knew she would never be able to square that with her teachers after the theft of the Oni's tusk had become apparent. The two would be linked inextricably.

Despite the fact that Tom didn't seem to care that she was about to commit a transgression that could get her expelled, she cared an awful lot.

She could only think of one way to slow down Tom's pursuers without magic.

Taking a breath and closing her eyes, Dorcas said under her breath to herself, "This is going to hurt."

She stepped out in front of the closest of the Oni's handlers, colliding hard enough with him to send her flying back into the wooden cart of sweets behind her. She felt the air rush out of her lungs and felt the snap of a rib. Before she lost consciousness, she saw the handlers piled up behind the one she'd stopped with her own body. Several of the show's patrons had stumbled into the melee as well.

"Dorcas!" she heard Cal shout.

She hoped it had been enough to help Tom get away. And in the name of all that's holy, he'd better have gotten some of that infernal tusk!