Chapter Fourteen: Christmas Night
Recap: Professor Smith encourages Daisy to make up with her friends after she is ostracised for her role in the Bella/Macmillan scandal (and for just generally being a pretty mean person). Macmillan is avoiding Bella. Dudley's son is kidnapped. Robards tells Tabitha that he intends to retire, and if she can figure out who is behind the recent unrest, she will succeed him as the Head of the Auror Office. Tabitha discovers a name in Ella's files that she recognises, and which helps her formulate a plan that she intends to put into action at Harry Potter's Christmas party.
I: Victoire
Victoire Weasley loved Christmas.
Of course, she knew it was just another day in the cycle of three hundred and sixty five that made up a year. She knew that it was over-hyped and over-commercialised, designed to sell wizards more products than they needed. And yet for her, the food, the parties, and the presents came together to create something magical. It was a day when life was (or at least felt) perfect, and she loved everything about it. But most of all, she loved the people.
She was a part of a large family, and Christmas was really the only time that everyone was together. She loved seeing her aunts, uncles, and cousins.
At home, she sometimes found herself suffocating. It was true that at five, the Weasley-Delacour household wasn't exactly tiny, but Victoire's relationship with her mother was often strained, for she felt that her mother was overprotective and restrictive. And although she got on well with her youngest sibling, little Louis, Victoire's relationship with Dominique was … trying, to say the least, which accounted for why they spent little time together at school. Still, at Christmastime,t he troubles that they had with one another seemed almost inconsequential, mitigated as they were by the presence of so many others.
The day had started several hours earlier when the Weasley-Delacour family had arrived at Grandmother Molly's house for their annual get-together. They had had lunch and exchanged presents before moving onto Uncle Harry's house where Victoire, Teddy and her cousins had helped him to decorate in preparation for his famous Christmas party.
Uncle Harry had been throwing Christmas parties since well before Victoire could remember. They had started off as small family gatherings, extensions of the earlier lunch, and had since grown as members of the Weasley family began to invite their friends, relatives and colleagues. It had since become a well-established event in the social calendar of those who travelled in the same circles as her uncle – Aurors (who Victoire thought had the best stories), her parents' friends from school, Ministry officials she'd heard of in the newspaper. It was always a little odd to see her professors there though – many had gone to school with Uncle Harry and were therefore invited, as were the current Head students, as a sort of reward for their services to the school.
Still, meeting and talking to people constantly was exhausting and she often found herself forgetting who she had already spoken to or met before. Thankfully, Teddy had similar difficulties.
"I'm so sick of everyone telling me how grown up I look," he had muttered to her as they ascended the stairs in search of a quieter place. "I don't even remember meeting them."
They now sat upstairs in Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's bedroom. The house was three stories high with the bedrooms distributed across the two upper floors – the master and Lily's on the top floor, and James and Albus on the second floor, along with the guest room. Their little cousins were playing in Lily's room and kept popping in every few minutes to say hello, or to demand they joined them in their latest game of pretend. Dominique, who was now twelve, sat in the corner of the room, reading. She was so quiet that it was quite easy for Victoire to pretend she simply wasn't there.
Victoire and Teddy chatted about school and their holidays so far. It was nice, she thought, as Teddy told her about how Ella's parents had stopped her from going out alone, to spend time with Teddy. At Hogwarts, it was never just the two of them – Alfie, Ella, or Riley were inevitably around and though Victoire loved being part of a larger group, she missed just being with Teddy. He'd been her best friend since before she could remember – the one constant in her life, someone she knew would always support her. When she was younger, her mother had threatened to send her to Beauxbatons, a move that Victoire had vehemently protested against. Though she hadn't said it out loud, she had been terrified of not seeing Teddy for months on end and had no idea how she would have coped. Even now, she was so accustomed to seeing him every day that she often felt an odd sense of loneliness during the holidays, as if something was missing from her life.
Perhaps that was part of the reason she loved Christmas. It was a day that she got to spend entirely with her best friend.
It was with some exasperation that she noted Teddy was now attempting to get Dominique to join in the conversation – a useless and unnecessary mission in her opinion.
"Hey, that's really pretty, Dom," he said, pointing at a string of blue jewels around the younger girl's thin wrist.
Dominique glanced from her book to the bracelet and back again. "Thanks."
"Where did you get it?" Teddy pressed.
No response. Victoire couldn't help but roll her eyes.
"Riley got it for her," she answered.
"Really?" Teddy looked taken aback and Victoire felt a stab of consternation. She knew deep down that Teddy wasn't Riley's biggest fan, but it was something she preferred to gloss over. "That's nice of her."
"She got me one too," she said, trying not to sound defensive. "Mine's red."
"Because you're a Gryffindor?"
"I imagine so. What did she get you?"
"She actually sent me a card." Was there a touch of incredulity in his voice? Teddy got up from the bed and walked over to where he had kept his bag in the corner. He rifled through it and extracted a bundle of colourful, glittery Christmas card.
He was about to rejoin Victoire when a shrill shriek came from the other room. Victoire started and swivelled around just in time to see a small girl with hair the colour of poppies run through the doorway, tears streaming down her pale, flushed cheeks. Dominique looked up from her book, shook her head disapprovingly, and began to read again.
"Teddy," the little girl sobbed, "you have to help, Teddy! Teddy! Teddy!"
Teddy, who had almost dropped his bundle of cards in shock, put them down on the bed. He knelt down in front of the little girl, regarding her with a tender expression. "What is it, Lily?" he asked kindly.
"Albus and James stole my dolly again," Lily Luna Potter sniffed. "And I can't find her, and they won't tell me where they've put her even though I asked nicely." Her bottom lip quivered dangerously, as if she was about to burst into tears again.
Teddy exchanged an exasperated look with Victoire. At nine, James Potter was at the age where he seemed to think bullying his little sister was great fun, and, at eight, Albus was at the age where he worshipped the ground his older brother stood on. Both had been repeatedly told off through the day for bothering Lily and yet they still persisted. Victoire supposed she couldn't blame them. After all, when she was their age, she had often played elaborate pranks on Dominique and Louis – often with Teddy's aid.
"Come on," Teddy said, standing up and extending his palm out to the little girl, who grasped it firmly, her tiny fingers intertwining with his. "Let's go find your dolly." To Victoire, he said, "I'll be back. You can look for Riley's card if you like."
Victoire nodded. Once he had left the room, she began to rifle through the stack of cards, ignoring Dominique's disapproving expression. She found her own – yellow, with a badger in a Christmas hat printed on the front. The card beneath it was blue, emblazoned with a cartoon snowman. Not exactly kind of thing Riley, a stickler for tradition, would send – her card to Victoire simply bore an image of a Christmas tree. Nevertheless, Victoire flipped it open, just to make sure (or so she told herself).
She had to read the name inside twice to ensure her eyes weren't deceiving her.
After all of the drama that had occurred last term, what was Daisy Shipkins doing writing to Teddy?
Teddy and Daisy Shipkins weren't friends and had never been friends, at least as far as Victoire was aware (and when it came to Teddy, she knew she was aware of pretty much everything, by virtue of their best friend-ship). There was absolutely no reason for Daisy to write to Teddy. She sincerely doubted that he had written to her. Teddy wasn't even friendly towards Daisy.
Okay, perhaps that was a bit of a lie. Teddy was friendly towards everyone, but that was because he was Teddy. He didn't go out of his way to be nice to Daisy, not in the same way he did for, say, Matilda Goshawk. He didn't hang around with her, nor did he count her as one of his close friends. So what was she doing writing to him?
It didn't occur to her that she was overreacting. She skimmed the message inside the card, noting (with slight irritation) that it was rather long for a Christmas card.
Dear Teddy,
Merry Christmas!
I bet you're wondering why I'm writing to you.
You bet I am, thought Victoire.
Last term wasn't exactly great for me and you, and our friendship. I've had some time to think, and I've realised that I haven't really been the nicest person over the last few months. So I suppose I can't really blame you and all the others for not wanting to be friends with me anymore. After all, who wants to be friends with someone unkind, right?
But Christmas is the season for forgiveness, and that's why I'm writing to you - to apologise. I'm really very sorry, Teddy, for anything I may have said or done that hurt you. I'm sending cards to everyone who I think I may have upset. I hope you can forgive me.
Love,
Daisy.
"Hm," Victoire said out loud, closing the card.
"Something interesting?" asked Dominique, slyly.
"You could say so."
The Ravenclaw surveyed her, eyes narrowed. "You shouldn't read other people's Christmas cards," she said prissily.
Victoire rolled her eyes. "Teddy doesn't mind."
"That's what you think."
"He said he didn't mind you reading Riley's card. That," she jerked her chin to the card in Victoire's hands, "doesn't look like it's from Riley."
"How would you know?"
"Riley doesn't send cards like that. Hers are more plain." Damn it, why was her sister a Ravenclaw? "So who's that one from then? His girlfriend?"
"Teddy doesn't have a girlfriend!" Victoire snapped.
Dominique shrugged. "Whatever."
It was all Victoire could do not to get up from the bed and shake the insolence out of Dominique. Why was her little sister so difficult?
And, more importantly, said a little voice in her head that she tried her best to ignore, what did she know?
Thankfully, Teddy chose to return at that precise moment. "It was under the bed," he declared triumphantly.
"What?"
"Lily's doll." He climbed up onto the duvet next to Victoire, who was still clutching Daisy's card. His gaze fell upon it and his enthusiasm dissipated slightly. "Oh. That. Definitely wasn't expecting it."
"I can imagine."
"Did you read it?"
"I told her she shouldn't have," Dominique piped up.
"Dominique!" Victoire exclaimed, exasperated.
Teddy laughed, and Victoire felt something inside her unclench. "No, it's fine. It's weird, isn't it? Daisy Shipkins, of all people, apologising. Who would have thought?"
"Not me," Victoire replied, chewing on her bottom lip.
Teddy continued to talk, but she was only half-listening. She had become aware of a strange sensation in her stomach – not quite nervous butterflies, not quite anger – accompanied by unbidden thoughts and questions swirling in her mind. Why had Daisy written to Teddy? It wasn't as if any of her actions last term had directly affected Teddy. She hadn't spread rumours about him, said nasty things, or stolen his Prefect badge. It didn't make any sense.
She wanted to ask Teddy what he thought of Daisy, whether he was prepared to forgive her like she asked, whether he considered Daisy a friend, but found that she didn't quite know how. She, who could talk to Teddy about anything, who always asked the questions everyone else was too afraid to ask, was suddenly paralysed, at a loss for words.
Daisy Shipkins was pretty. Her hair was a stunning shade of red; unusual, not like Victoire's common blonde curls. Her freckles actually suited her. Her lips were perfectly shaped. She applied make-up perfectly, unlike Victoire, who hardly knew what to do with the different colours and pencils.
Love, Daisy.
She didn't understand.
"Victoire?"
"Huh?" Her sea-green eyes found Teddy's warm, brown ones, and the odd sensation in her stomach intensified.
"Are you okay? You look a little...strange."
"I'm fine," she said quickly, breaking eye contact and brushing a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Too much Butterbeer, I think. I'm feeling a bit jittery."
"You've probably been sitting still too long," he said jokingly. "I mean look at us – sitting here and chatting like adults. Let's go join the party. The Goshawk twins are supposed to be coming. We might be able to find them, if you'd like?"
Daisy Shipkins isn't coming, is she?" Victoire blurted before she could stop herself.
Teddy looked at her curiously, eyebrows furrowed. "Daisy Shipkins? No of course not. Why would you think that?"
The blonde laughed nervously. "No reason." The jittery feeling in her stomach calmed significantly. "Let's go."
"Smooth," Dominique whispered sardonically under her breath as the two eldest children left the room. "Very smooth."
.oOo.
II: Bella
Professor Horace Slughorn had been the first to invite the Hogwarts Head Students to Harry Potter's annual Christmas party. He, the expert networker, recognized the party for what it was and what it was to become, and established a tradition whereby the Heads were guaranteed invitations to the event. Though Harry himself had never expected (nor, truth be told, wanted) his party to grow into a networking opportunity, he did regardless enjoy meeting the Head students.
Meeting Harry was certainly the highlight of the evening for Bella Watson who, two hours into the party, found herself quite alone by the bar. Networking was exhausting. She was excellent at it, for she had a charming smile, a firm handshake, and an uncanny knack for asking all the right questions at the right times. But such skill took effort. She needed a drink.
As she poured herself a glass of champagne, she glanced around the room. Everyone was engaged in happy conversation, including Alfred Cattermole, the Hogwarts head boy whom she had once dated. He, she noted grimly, had brought his new girlfriend – a tall, slim brunette with little personality. Bella had endeavored to be especially nice to her, but she expected that Alfred and his girlfriend wanted some time alone, as, truth be told, did she.
She took a sip from her glass. The champagne was crisp and light, not heavy and burning like firewhiskey or overly sweet like butterbeer. She took another sip, and then another. Before long, the glass was empty.
She poured herself another one.
Glass in hand, she turned around to seek out someone to talk to. Let's see, she thought to herself, ambling casually into the throng of people milling about, there's Peter Rose, Professor Flitwick, Hermione Granger… who to pick?
None of them.
Because fate works in odd ways sometimes.
A shoulder clad in thick black robes hit into hers, making her yelp in pain and almost drop her flute.
"Watch where you're go –" she began to exclaim angrily before trailing off when she saw who the shoulder belonged to.
"We must stop meeting like this, Miss Watson," said Professor Macmillan. He stood somewhat awkwardly: he held a glass in one hand, his other hand limp by his side as if he didn't know what to do with it. . He didn't meet her eyes, and stood at a slight angle tilted away from her. Still, the fact that he had willingly spoken to her surprised her. After their meeting on the train, Bella was certain that Macmillan would be making a conscious effort to avoid her through the rest of the year.
She couldn't help but blush slightly, embarrassed that out of all the people she could've collided with in the party, it had to be the one she had history with. If you could call it that. "I agree, Professor."
A few moments of silence passed. Bella wanted to say something, to broach the awkward energy between them, but she simply didn't know what to do. She felt almost like she was eleven years old again, called into Professor Macmillan's office for not doing her homework.
"You have a lot of potential, Miss Watson. I would hate to see you squander it."
"Squander, sir?"
"Waste."
"Oh."
The next day, she had come in with all of her homework done. She had answered every question. In her final exams, she came top of the year.
Sometimes all it took was one person.
"I suppose I should go," Macmillan said at last, breaking the silence. "Have a nice night."
"No!" Bella exclaimed, shocking herself. Macmillan looked at her, startled. "What I mean to say is," she began, stuttering slightly as she tried to think of some sort of explanation, "we need to talk. I mean, we should talk. I mean," she took a deep breath," talking would probably be good."
The professor glanced around the room warily and sighed. "I'm listening."
Bella floundered. She had imagined this encounter so many times since the scandal had blown up and she'd run out of Defense Against the Dark Arts. She'd come up with a million speeches, a million ways of explaining why Laura Shipkins did what she did, a million ways of apologising to Professor Macmillan (even though she didn't truly believe what had happened was ultimately her fault… but she supposed at this stage, it didn't matter). And yet now, standing across for him, she couldn't think of a single word to say.
A few more moments of silence passed, before Macmillan sighed again. "Listen, Miss Watson, perhaps I should go before… " he trailed off, but Bella understood what he was implying. He didn't want to make the situation more awkward. He didn't want people to talk any more than they already had. Quite frankly, neither did she, but at the same time, she felt as if she had to do something.
"No," Bella said quickly. "No, I… I just wanted to say…"
Come on, Bella.
"I'm sorry," she said at last. "I should have seen this coming. Laura Shipkins has had it out for me since first year, really, and me getting Head Girl over her was the last straw. I should've known that something like this would happen, I should've talked to her before everything blew up and settled it. I mean, I knew what she was saying about me, about us, and I should have done something instead of just sitting there and hoping it would all blow over. I knew the implications of it. So I'm sorry, Professor. I'm so, so terribly sorry. You're one of the best teachers I've ever had. You were the first person who believed in me, who pushed me to do my best, to challenge everyone's expectations of me. You've always supported me, and I don't want this terrible, silly thing to come between us."
As she finished, she exhaled deeply. It felt good to finally air everything she'd been thinking about since that fateful day, and yet she couldn't predict how Macmillan was going to react. She noticed with a start that he wasn't looking at her. What if it hadn't been enough? What if he blamed her for what had happened and always would?
Then what?
It was much to her relief when he finally said, "That was quite some speech."
"Thank you," she mumbled.
"I don't blame you," he said, softly. She started, for it was almost as if he had read her mind. "None of what happened was your fault. But you must understand, Miss Watson, that things can no longer go back to the way they were. People have short memories, and should you and I show any … intimacy beyond what is expected of a student and teacher, they will talk. And that is risky for both of us."
A lump formed in her throat.
"Miss Watson?"
Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "I… understand."
"Have a lovely Christmas."
She watched as he turned away from her and was swallowed by the crowd. A strange sensation of emptiness filled her stomach. She'd never loved Macmillan, but she had come to rely on him. He was the one person in Hogwarts she felt she could trust with anything. It was as if a rock she was leaning on for support had given way, sending her tumbling over the edge of a cliff, helpless to stop her fall.
Laura Shipkins had ruined everything.
She hated to think that Laura, a petty, immature brat, could have that much control over her life. Bella had never stoked the flames of the conflict between them. If anything, she'd attempted to extinguish it, but Laura had continued to hold on. Bella had always felt sorry for the other girl, for it was clear she was insecure and threatened.
Now, for the first time, she felt angry.
.oOo.
III: Teddy
In Teddy's opinion, Uncle Harry's Christmas party was a congregation of the strangest collection of people you could ever meet.
He was old enough to remember when the annual event had been purely a family occasion: quiet, simple and peaceful. Now the entire ground floor and back garden had been transformed into a hubbub of activity, filled with Aurors, Ministry officials, Hogwarts professors, Healers – all people who his uncle Harry knew and was generally well-acquainted with. It was like a microcosm of the wizarding world.
He enjoyed the parties, for it was nice to meet his uncle's friends. But most of all, it was nice to meet people who had known his parents. So often, Teddy had engaged in conversations with wizards and witches who had in some way been touched by his mother or father – those who his father had taught, those who his mother had saved. And they were always filled with the best stories about the things his parents had done, or the kinds of people they had been.
He had just finished speaking to an old colleague of his mother's when he was approached by Michael Goshawk. The Goshawks were always invited to the Christmas party. Their mother, Jennifer, had worked in the Auror office prior to being transferred into the department of International Wizarding Relations.
"Teddy!" the Slytherin exclaimed, clapping him sharply on the shoulder. "Good Christmas?"
"Yes, thanks, Michael." Teddy grinned. "Where's Mat?"
Michael shrugged. "Somewhere."
A moment of silence passed. Teddy wondered if he had truly expected a more helpful answer.
"So, are you enjoying the holidays?"
"I suppose," Michael sniffed. "It's been nice to be home, although Mum's been very busy."
He paused, watching Teddy carefully. Teddy knew that this was his cue to act interested, giving Michael a chance to boast, so said, "Oh, really? What's she been doing? You'd think she'd get a holiday."
Michael smiled smugly. "Yes, well, keeping up international relations is a very important job. She can't take a break. She's been working very closely with her colleagues in the Spanish Ministry. Apparently they've been having issues similar to ours - kids going missing, that sort of thing. They caught the people behind it though - Mum helped, of course."
"Oh," Teddy said, his interest actually piqued now. "And were those people linked to what's been happening here."
Michael shook his head. "Nah. They'd never been to England, and they didn't seem to know anyone here. Plus, they were kidnapping all sorts – Purebloods, half-bloods."
"Oh." A muscle in his stomach he did not realise he was holding taut unclenched.
"It's unfortunate," Michael murmured. "I was kind of hoping they would find something out about the kids here. It's just not right, is it, for people not that much younger than us to go missing? I often find myself wondering what's happened to them. You know, whether they're safe, whether they're even alive."
Teddy had difficulty hiding his surprise. Although he and Michael spoke frequently, they hadn't really talked about the missing children - surprising, considering it was all some at Hogwarts could talk about. He had just assumed that it wasn't something Michael was concerned about. He was a Pureblood, after all, with few links to muggleborns, and he never seemed to show much emotion. Ella had often commented on how she didn't like Michael for that very reason.
"He's just so...blank," she had told Teddy once, when the latter had gotten angry at her for acting cold towards the Slytherin. "I never know where I stand with him, because he never seems to show any sort of reaction. It's awfully unsettling."
Although he'd fought her vehemently on it at the time, he couldn't help but agree with her somewhat. He sometimes found himself unsure of what his relationship with Michael really was. He called it friendship, but it wasn't the kind of friendship that he had with Ella, Alfie, Victoire or even Matilda Goshawk. He never found it truly easy to talk to Michael; he was always having to think carefully about what he was saying, and he did often find the other boy difficult to interpret.
"I wonder when it'll all end" Teddy said, taking the opportunity to continue the conversation. "It's sad – and awfully frightening."
"Hm," Michael said. There was a brief silence, and Teddy watched his face closely. His eyes, a deep green, remained startlingly blank. Despite what he had said, Michael didn't seem in the least bit affected.
It was, like Ella had said, awfully unsettling.
The awkwardness quickly evaporated when Michael broke out into a smile and said, "So, I heard Leonardo Torricelli and your friend Anderson are going out. When did that start?"
"That's old news, Goshawk!"
"Yes, but you can give me the inside scoop."
Teddy laughed. This, he supposed, was why, five years after they had first met, he was still friends with Michael. Sometimes they struggled to find common ground, but sometimes, things were simple.
He had only just begun telling Michael about how Ella and Leonardo had gotten together, when Victoire ran up to him.
There are several benefits to having known someone for fourteen years. One is that you have several embarrassing anecdotes in your arsenal that you can deploy as you wish. The other (and perhaps the more important) is that you can always, always tell when something is wrong.
Teddy only had to glance at Victoire to know that something wasn't right. Michael, on the other hand, was oblivious, and greeted her as normal.
Victoire's lips were upturned, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Though she spoke calmly to Michael, who was asking about her Christmas holidays, her cheeks lacked their usual colour, and her hands, which brushed lightly against Teddy's, were clammy. She emanated a palpable nervous energy, which made Teddy's heart quicken.
"I'm so sorry, Michael," she said at last, "but I'm afraid I just came over to get Teddy. My dad wants to see him - Teddy's visiting us next week, I think he wants to work out some of the details."
This was a blatant lie. Teddy was not visiting Shell Cottage next week, nor anytime in the near future. Still, he smiled at Michael and said, "It was lovely seeing you. Merry Christmas."
He turned away, following Victoire who skillfully weaved in and out of the crowds. It was only when they were in a quiet spot, out of earshot of any of the guests, that he turned to her and asked, "What's going on?"
Her smile had since left her face and she looked at him, worry in her eyes. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I overheard something, something strange."
Teddy felt nausea growing in his stomach - a mix of trepidation, uneasiness and fear. Not here, he thought. Not now.
He knew what she was going to say before she said it.
"Something's not right."
.oOo.
IV: Victoire (II)
(ten minutes earlier)
Nobody wanted to talk to Victoire Weasley, and she didn't want to talk to anyone either.
The problem, she thought as she absent-mindedly leaned on the bar, was that at these sorts of parties, adults tended to have a little too much to drink. And when adults had a little too much to drink, they tended to lose all interest in their responsibilities, or anything that remotely reminded them of their responsibilities. Like children
There was no one from her year attending the party. Her siblings and cousins were upstairs, and Teddy was deep in conversation with Michael Goshawk. She had no desire to join them; she wished that she and Teddy had never come downstairs. They had been perfectly fine on their own – they didn't have any need for Michael Goshawk. Although she'd never exactly told Teddy that she didn't like Michael, she thought that anyone who could spend as much time with Terence Gates as he did wasn't worth her time. And Riley Carrow felt much the same.
Victoire felt a little pang in her heart. She missed Riley. It was odd not seeing her for so long, when they normally spent everyday together. Riley had never come to visit her over the holidays, and she'd never been to visit Riley - she'd never queried it, for it had never come up, even though they regularly kept in touch. She wished that Riley was here now.
Without realizing it, she had drifted past the bar towards a secluded corner just behind the stairs. She knew it well, for it had been one of her favourite hiding places as a child. It was only when she heard an unfamiliar voice that she realised where she had ended up.
"This is not the place, James!"
Something told her that she wasn't supposed to be there, and that the 'James' being referred to was not her cousin. Fortunately, she knew just how to conceal herself. Ducking around a corner, she hid herself behind a well-placed bookshelf, and, gingerly placing her fingertips on the wall, leaned forward ever so slightly so that she could just about see what was going on.
She couldn't quite figure out what she was seeing though. Two people were standing close together and talking in hushed voices. She instantly recognized Tabitha James – it was hard not to, for the young woman was rather tall, striking, and, most importantly, had an air of determination around her that was impossible to miss. The man she was talking to, on the other hand, was more of an enigma. Squinting, she could make out messy dark hair, a square face, stubble, and broad shoulders.
I've seen you before, she thought.
"This is the place, sir," Tabitha hissed back.
Ah. The dots connected in Victoire's brain. Sir. This must be the Head Auror. Her uncle Harry's boss. She knew his name, but it eluded her.
"We are at a party, James."
"And I have a lead."
Victoire felt a jolt run through her. They couldn't possibly be talking about the kidnappings, could they? Her breathing quickened slightly, and she pressed herself further against the wall, desperately hoping that she had hidden herself well enough.
There was a rustling sound. Tabitha extracted a piece of parchment from her bag. Victoire was too far to see what was written on it, but from the way Tabitha thrust it in front of the man's face, she knew that it must be important. If only she could read it for herself, but it was too risky to get any closer. The last thing she needed was for the aurors to tell her parents that she'd been eavesdropping. Her mother would never let it go.
"Can you not wait until - " the Head Auror began, but Tabitha interrupted him.
"I was reading through some old files and I found this. You recognize this name, don't you?"
"James -"
"And I looked further, and there are all sorts of connections there, with M-"
"James."
"- everyone we've been suspecting. Robards, this is it. This is our first real lead. The Ravenclaw girl, Ella Anderson, I knew there was something about her. She led us straight to them – not intentionally of course, I doubt she even knows about this, but…"
"We'll talk about this later, James," the man snapped, his tone firm. "This is not the place."
There was a moment of silence. Victoire watched, her fingers leaving sweat stains against the cream wall paint. Tabitha was looking at the Head Auror with the determination, fierceness and ferocity of a wild cat about to attack its' prey. Victoire felt a tremble run through her.
"Fine," Tabitha said at last. She stuffed the piece of paper in her bag. "We'll talk about it later."
As the two Aurors parted ways, Victoire stayed hidden, trying to slow her breathing. She barely understood what she had just heard, but she felt cold all over. They had a lead. That was good. She wanted them to have a lead, she wanted them to find the bad guys and shove them in Azkaban.
But what did Ella Anderson have to do with it all?
Ella was primarily Teddy's friend, yes, but Victoire cared about her too. Ella had been a constant source of comfort to her, a bit like the older sister Victoire had never had. How could she possibly be mixed up in all of this, and how could she have led the Aurors straight to an important discovery? And most of all, how could she not know about it?
She didn't understand it one bit. All she knew was that suddenly, everything felt real in a way it hadn't felt since Leslie Stiles had disappeared. It was all very well to read about these things in the newspaper, but it was another thing entirely to see them happen with your own eyes to people who you loved. She wasn't friends with Leslie, but she had always seen her in the Gryffindor Common Room, laughing, smiling. She was friends with Ella, and she didn't want to believe that Ella could somehow be wrapped up in this mess.
Stop jumping to conclusions, she told herself.
She might not know how to comprehend this, but she knew one thing: Teddy needed to know.
.oOo.
(the present)
"I overheard something, something strange. Something's not right."
She could tell she had made Teddy uneasy. He stood before her, his eyes furrowed and his turquoise hair lightening slightly, as it always did when he was uncomfortable or worried. Still, she pressed on, relating the conversation she had overheard between Tabitha and the Head Auror, sparing him no details.
When she had finished, he looked at her in silence.
"Well?" She said, trying desperately (but failing) to hide the tremor in her voice. "What do we do?"
Teddy took a deep breath in. "I don't know."
No, that couldn't be true. "You always know."
He folded his arms, his forehead lined with worry. She might not be able to read minds, but she knew what he was thinking. He was worried about Ella, about how she might be involved.
"Ella wouldn't tell Tabitha anything," he said at last.
"What do you mean?"
"Ella doesn't trust herself. She had this theory a while back, about all the attacks being linked to Hogwarts -"
Victoire felt a flash of jealousy run through her - why hadn't Teddy told her about this before? Still, she suppressed it. This wasn't the time.
" - and I thought it was worth something, but she refused to tell Tabitha until she had proof. She didn't want to seem like a fool."
"Is it possible she told Tabitha?"
Teddy paused. "I did."
Her mouth dropped open and she shook her head slightly. "You what?"
"I wrote an anonymous letter telling her about Ella's theory. It was ages ago though, so it doesn't make sense. It can't have been what led her to this lead, because she wouldn't know to credit Ella for it."
"And you're sure Ella wouldn't have told Tabitha anything?"
Teddy shook his head. "I'm sure. This was the only theory Ella had. She would've told us before she told Tabitha. She tells us everything."
Once again, Victoire felt jealousy swirl in her stomach. She knew that 'us' didn't refer to her - it referred to Teddy, Alfie, and Ella. She didn't understand why she suddenly felt like this. The three had been friends since they all started at Hogwarts, and Victoire had never felt this excluded before. Perhaps it was because she used to feel as if she still had a special bond with Teddy, one that involved telling each other everything. She'd never kept secrets from him, and yet it seemed that he'd been keeping things from her.
It was almost as if he had read her mind, for he tilted his head to the side slightly and gave her a look that was half-beseeching, half-reprimanding. "It wasn't my secret to tell."
Victoire feigned innocence. "What secret?"
"Theory. Whatever you want to call it."
"Whatever." She twirled a lock of blonde hair around her finger absentmindedly. "What do we do now?"
Teddy chewed on his lip, deep in thought. She watched him, expectantly.
"Ella's our friend," he said at last. "Whatever Tabitha's got on her, or from her, we need to know. You said she said that Ella doesn't know about this?"
"Right."
"She should." His voice was strongly defiant.
"I agree, but how are we going to find out?"
"We need to see that piece of paper."
"But it's in Tabitha's bag!" Victoire exclaimed. "There's no way we're going to be able to get it from her."
The edges of Teddy's lips curved up in a smile. Victoire's eyes narrowed - surely this was no time to be joking around?
"Do you remember when you were eight, and your mother took away your favourite stuffed animal because she thought you were getting too old for it?"
What in Merlin's name did a stuffed rabbit have to do with this. "Yes, but I don't quite see-"
"How did we get it back?"
Victoire's eyes lit up and she met Teddy's gaze, sharp and determined. "We waited until she left her bag somewhere to go and get dinner, and then we stole it from it before she could get back."
"Same principle, different person. And, if I'm correct -" Teddy checked his watch. "Dinner is due to be served in exactly fifteen minutes. All we need to do is get closer."
oOo.
V: Tabitha
How dare he brush her off?
Had he not been raging at her just that morning for not having a lead? And now that she'd found one, did he want to hear it? Of course he didn't. He was too busy making merry at a stupid party hosted by someone he didn't even like.
Men.
"Can I get you something to drink, miss?" the bartender asked, snapping her out of her train of thought. She turned and glared with him with such intensity that for a moment, he looked rather like a deer caught in the headlights. Then, cracking a smile, he poured her a shot of firewhiskey on the rocks and put it on the countertop in front of her. He winked at her. "Looks like you need it."
She exhaled through her nose and watched angrily as he scarpered off to the opposite side of the bar. She hated it when other people were able to read her.
I'll show Robards, she thought, picking up the glass of firewhiskey and bringing it to her lips, allowing the cloying scent to settle over her. The connections were all there. She could hardly believe it had taken her this long to put everything together. But now that she had, she didn't want to wait any longer.
Taking a deep breath, she tipped the glass back and swallowed the liquid in a single gulp, letting it scorch her throat as it went down. She shook her head vehemently, and allowed her eyes to refocus on the crowd with crystal clarity. There was no time to waste. It was time to put her plan into action.
She spotted Munroe, and her lips curved upwards into a catlike smile.
.oOo.
VI: Teddy (II)
Tabitha James had managed to maneuver her way all the way across the room, where she was now in deep conversation with a blonde man that Teddy recognised as Auror Munroe. Weaving his way through the crowds, Victoire following just behind him, he kept a close eye on the witch, and, more importantly, her small leather bag, which she was clutching to her side almost protectively.
He had known the moment Victoire had told him about it that he needed to see that piece of parchment. Nothing made sense – how could Ella have led Tabitha to a lead when Ella didn't have any leads herself? And how could she have done so without knowing? It wasn't as if Ella and Tabitha were friends, or had even met recently. After all, Ella would've mentioned it to him.
So what was going on?
A tall wizard gesturing exuberantly (probably thanks to too many glasses of wine) flung out an arm and Teddy quickly ducked to avoid getting hit. Victoire yelped and ducked too, capturing the wizard's attention.
"My apologies, children," he beamed, not looking very sorry at all.
"That's fine," Teddy mumbled, biting his lip. He tried to move away, desperate to resume his search for Tabitha, when a familiar voice stopped him.
"Teddy! Do come and join us. And Victoire too!"
Suppressing a groan, Teddy turned towards the voice and grinned in what he hoped was a convincing manner. "Hi, Uncle Harry."
His godfather stood amongst several other witches and wizards, most of whom were unfamiliar to Teddy. He did, however, recognize a familiar round face, and raised a hand awkwardly in greeting. "Hi Professor Longbottom."
Victoire mumbled hello as the group shuffled outwards to encompass the two children. Teddy's eyes darted towards where he had last seen Tabitha. The Auror was still in deep conversation with Munroe. Unconsciously, his hand curled into a tight fist, his knuckles white. They needed to get over there. Ella (though she didn't know it yet) was relying on him.
"Are you both having fun?" Professor Longbottom asked kindly, smiling at the two children.
Victoire nodded. "Uh huh."
"A wonderful time," Teddy said, smiling warmly. He met Professor Longbottom's eyes for just long enough to give an impression of sincerity before his gaze quickly flitted away to settle on Tabitha.
"Well, I'm glad we've run into you," said Uncle Harry. "I've been wanting to introduce you, in particular, Teddy, to some friends of mine." He gestured to the individuals standing to his right – a tall, young woman with chocolate-brown hair and a complexion similar to Ella's, and a man with a jovial smile and rather bad teeth. "This is Evelyn Crutter, and her husband, David. They're Obliviators."
"It's lovely to meet you, Teddy," greeted Evelyn, stepping in front of him, and extending a hand. "And you too, Victoire. We've heard so much about you."
Teddy cursed silently under his breath. Evelyn had blocked his view of Tabitha. As he shook her hand and exchanged pleasantries, he tried to subtly crane his head to see if he could catch a glimpse of the dark-haired witch. No luck.
Damn it.
He could feel Victoire's gaze upon him and knew that she was waiting for him to make some kind of move, to think of some way to escape from the adults. And yet his mind was completely blank.
"Teddy's in his fifth year," Professor Longbottom commented.
"Ah," Evelyn nodded her head knowingly, "I suppose you'll be starting to think about careers."
Teddy, half listening, half attempting to spot Tabitha to realise she was addressing him. "Huh? Oh, yes." He nodded his head a little too vigorously. Professor Longbottom eyed him suspiciously, but said nothing.
"Have you perhaps considered becoming an Obliviator? A fascinating career, really."
"I'm sure." How was he to get out of this? Victoire was tapping her foot lightly against the floor, her eyes darting around the room. Any longer, and the adults were sure to sense something was up, and then they'd keep an eye on them, preventing Teddy from achieving his goal. He reached up and rubbed the nape of his neck, trying desperately to think of a way out.
"If you ever want to come and see what it's like, you're more than welcome to come and visit David and I at the Ministry. We'd be happy to have you."
"What a lovely offer!" Teddy smiled, yet it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thank you."
"Being an Obliviator is really very interesting. Most people don't think it is - they all want to be Aurors and whatnot -"
"Oh, come now, Evelyn, there's nothing wrong with being an Auror," Uncle Harry chimed in.
"Of course not," replied the other, placatingly. "It's just more attractive than being an Obliviator. I suppose it's the danger. Although, I must tell you, Obliviation is a fine art -"
At this point, Teddy tuned out. Licking his lips, he tried, once again, to see if he could spot Tabitha, but Evelyn was still blocking his view.
"- why, I don't think even Merlin himself would be able to Obliviate with the skill some of our team has. You know, we have very stringent training procedures. After all, we are working to uphold the Statute of Secrecy, the very cornerstone of our little society and -"
Victoire interjected, exclaiming, "Oh, would you look at the time! I'm so sorry everybody, but I promised my little sister – have you met Dominique? No? Shame. Well, anyhow, I promised her that I'd get her something to drink, and that was fifteen whole minutes ago." She laughed nervously. Teddy watched her in slight awe, pressing his lips together to keep in the laugh that threatened to escape him. "We really should get going. It was so lovely to meet you."
"Of course," Evelyn smiled. "Don't let us keep you." She turned and smiled at Teddy. "My offer still stands, young man."
Teddy had completely forgotten what offer she had made, but thanked her regardless.
"Right. Bye then!" Victoire grabbed Teddy's arm and yanked him away from the group. It was only once they were well out of earshot and enveloped, once again, in by a group of slightly drunk adults that she said, "I thought we'd never get away."
"Quick thinking."
"I didn't think anyone could talk so much about Obliviation."
"Me neither," demurred Teddy, massaging his temples. He looked up towards where he had seen Tabitha last, expecting to find her still in conversation with Munroe, or perhaps talking to someone else nearby.
Nothing.
"Damn it!" He cursed out loud, causing Victoire to step back slightly. She followed his gaze and made a similarly colourful exclamation.
"Where could she have gone?"
"We have to find her," Teddy asserted. "Come on."
Walking as fast as they could while still carefully avoiding any adults who might recognize them and rope them into another wholly unnecessary and frustrating conversation, the Gryffindor and the Hufflepuff weaved in and out of crowds, searching. The party was large, and spanned the living and dining rooms, along with the kitchen, yet they managed to cover a lot of space in not a lot of time. However, it was to no avail. Tabitha was nowhere to be seen.
Teddy then remembered that they had yet to check the garden. They ducked outside, but the cold meant that few people had elected to leave the warmth of the house, and none of them, to Teddy's displeasure, was Tabitha. Gritting his teeth, he re-entered the house, Victoire by his side.
"What if she's left?" he fretted, running a hand through his hair.
Victoire shook her head. "No one ever leaves Uncle Harry's Christmas party early."
"She could be an exception."
"I don't think so."
"Well, where is she then?" Teddy snapped. Victoire recoiled slightly, and he felt his stomach sink. "We've checked everywhere," he told her, softening his tone.
"I know," she replied, chewing her bottom lip. "Except…"
"Except?"
"Upstairs!"
Teddy furrowed his brow. "Why would she be upstairs? She's not exactly the type to go and check on the kids."
At this, Victoire snorted. "No, she's not exactly the warm and fuzzy type, is she? But it's the only place we haven't checked. Worth a shot, don't you think?"
Teddy sighed. A million thoughts were racing through his head, but one stood out: if he didn't see what was on that piece of parchment, he might never find out what Tabitha had on Ella. And if he didn't find out, despite surmising that it was of importance, and that Ella herself probably would want to know about it, what sort of a friend was he?
"Let's go," he muttered.
As they deftly made their way towards the staircase, heads down, Teddy became faintly aware of the song playing on the gramophone.
Don't say it isn't true, I wouldn't have come if not for you
He recognized it instantly, and it took all of his willpower not to stop and listen, not to let the music seep beneath his skin.
They say it's a magical time of year, but baby, there's no magic if you're not here.
The tune was intoxicating. It wound around him, entangling him in its lilting embrace. Without realizing it, he began to mouth the words.
I've travelled a thousand miles
Only to see you smile
Baby, it isn't Christmas without you.
His mother's favourite Christmas song. His grandmother played it every year without fail, be it when they were gathered around the Christmas tree opening presents, or drinking mugs of steaming hot chocolate garnished with his father's favourite Honeydukes marshmallows. Teddy had never spent Christmas with his parents, for they had never even lived to see his first winter, but the song awakened a deep, yet acute ache in him – one that had been present for nearly his entire life and one he knew would never go away.
He had a family, but it was like a puzzle with its central pieces missing. You could just about tack it together, but there'd always be a gap, something breaking the image apart. He survived the war, but he would always feel like a casualty of it.
"Teddy?" Victoire shot him a questioning look and he realized that they were standing at the bottom of the staircase. "You ready?"
The kidnappings. The marks. The fear. His grandmother said that people remembered, that the atrocities of the war wouldn't happen again.
He wasn't so sure.
"Teddy?"
"Let's do this," he said, stepping forward and taking her hand. Quietly, they began to ascend, Victoire leading the way.
Upon reaching the top, the blonde witch started. She quickly clambered down a few steps and, grabbing Teddy's arm, pulled him down so that they were both hidden behind the bannister, balancing on their toes.
"What?" he whispered.
They could just about see the landing. Victoire, perched a step higher than Teddy, had a better view of it, and he craned his head in an attempt to see what had shocked her so. "Wha –" he began to ask again, but stopped when Victoire emphatically lifted a finger to her lips.
He looked at her questioningly. She nodded her head towards the door nearest to them – one that Teddy knew led into a guest bedroom.
Slowly turning his head, his gaze fell upon what the blonde witch was staring at, half-shocked, half-entranced.
His mouth dropped open. "Oh my god."
.oOo.
VII: Tabitha (II)
It hadn't been difficult to get him upstairs.
Seducation wasn't part of Auror training, but Tabitha often thought that it should be. It was one of the most valuable skills in her arsenal. She had used it often throughout her career, and it had yielded excellent results, for it was perhaps the simplest way to get close – really close – to an otherwise unreachable source, to get access to places otherwise closed off. And all it took was an inviting touch, a slow trace of her tongue across her lips, a knowing smile that glinted in her eyes, challenging her target, daring him to come closer. Before he even knew it himself, Munroe was well and truly hers.
Now, she grabbed his collar and pushed him roughly against the wall. He responded by kissing her harder; he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against him. Her free hand reached up into the hair, entwining it between her fingers. A tiny moan escaped him, and she smiled against his lips. It was all working perfectly.
His lips left hers and began to trail down her neck. She tilted her head to the side, allowing him easier access. An involuntary gasp left her mouth as he kissed the nape of her neck, and she let her eyes briefly drift shut before snapping them open again.
No.
There was one problem with seduction. It was easy, in the heat of the moment, to forget why she was doing what she was. To forget what she had discovered earlier that morning. The facts had led her here, not her emotions. She needed proof to tie Munroe inextricably to the series of events that she had constructed in her head on the basis of the facts. And she intended to get it.
She let him lead her inside the guest bedroom. She let him shut the door, and push her up against it. She let him unbutton her silk blouse and unclasp her bra.
"Not here," she whispered in a breathy voice.
"Where then?" he said distractedly.
She let her fingers trace his jawline. "I'm sure you have some ideas."
She was about to get exactly what she wanted.
And yet, along the way, she had made what was perhaps her first error.
.oOo.
VIII: Teddy (IV)
As the door shut behind Tabitha and Munroe, Teddy turned to Victoire, gaping. Her expression mirrored his – shock, disbelief, and beneath it all, a slight curiosity that neither of them would admit to. When discussing events later, they would neglect to mention their difficulty in peeling their eyes away from the couple, and if it did come up, they would ascribe it to pure shock. After all, neither of them had expected to find Tabitha and Munroe in such a compromising position. And yet neither of them had ever seen such intimacy in real life before. It was enough to make Teddy briefly forget what they had set out to do in the first place.
It was Victoire who put them back on track. Turning her gaze back to the door, she gasped and grabbed Teddy's arm.
"Look," she whispered.
Teddy followed her gaze. A small leather handbag was lying haphazardly on the carpeted floor. It was exactly the same one he had seen Tabitha carrying earlier, but it didn't make sense. Surely the Auror would be more careful?
"It's too easy," he said.
"Oh, come on," Victoire whispered.
"I'm serious, Vic. What if it's a trap?"
"There's only one way to find out."
"What if they come out?"
At this, Victoire scoffed. "Please. In case you hadn't noticed, they're a little distracted."
She didn't wait for him to reply. Kicking off her shoes and gripping the banister, she raised herself to her full height. A quick glance around confirmed they were really alone. She deftly leaped up the stairs and towards the bag, her feet moving soundlessly across the carpet. Teddy held his breath as she lifted the bag and, smiling triumphantly, made her way back to him.
"Here."
Trepidation settled over him. As he reached for the clasp, he felt his lips go dry and his stomach muscles tauten. He struggled to unfasten the bag, his fingers unable to operate the metal contraption. This felt wrong. It was wrong - an invasion of Tabitha's privacy on a number of levels. And yet, he knew he had to do it. Whatever was in her bag concerned Ella. And if it concerned Ella… well, then it concerned him by extension.
"It's okay," Victoire whispered.
The bag opened, and he began to rifle through it, pushing aside lipstick, ID cards and eye make-up until he found what he was looking for: a small, folded sheet of parchment. He lifted it out of the bag and, glancing at Victoire, began to unfold it.
It was a photocopy of an official Ministry record - Teddy recognised the stamp on the top right corner. He traced his fingers over the elegant black lettering at the top of the page.
"Tiwari - Family Tree," Victoire read, looking at Teddy confused. "Who are the Tiwaris? What do they have to do with Ella? Are they related to her?"
"I don't know," Teddy said, shaking his head. He tried to think logically - it was a family tree. The youngest members of a family tree were at the bottom. If Ella was related to this family, she would be somewhere near the bottom.
His gaze travelled to the last branches of the tree, searching through the names until he found her. Ella Anderson, b. 1998. Her brother was next to her - Ashton Anderson, b. 2000. Using his finger, he began to trace upwards. Her father, Callum Anderson, married to her mother, Rhea Anderson, nee Tiwari. There were no more branches connected to Callum, but from Rhea, the tree only grew.
"It's her mother's family," Teddy whispered.
He knew very little about Ella's parents, for she had only really told him the basics. He knew that her mother had been born into an old Indian pureblood family, but as a Squib, had been educated and brought up in the muggle world, where she had met Ella's father. He knew that Ella had once been close with her grandmother, but she had passed away in their third year. Beyond that, he wasn't sure she had much contact with any of her mother's family - if she had, she had never mentioned it.
And yet somehow, they were obviously relevant to the investigation.
He continued to trace the tree. Ella's mother had a single sister, Radhika, who was unmarried and childless. Ella's grandparents were both deceased, as were her great-aunts. He stopped moving up the tree and began to move sideways - the grandparents had siblings, those siblings had children and…
"Look," said Victoire suddenly, reaching over Teddy's shoulder and pointing at a name. "She's circled it."
Surely enough, there was a faint pencilled circle around a name.
Mandira Tiwari, b. 1978
"Who's Mandira Tiwari?" Victoire asked.
He'd heard the name before. He knew he'd heard the name before, but he couldn't place it.
Teddy took a moment to trace the tree back to Ella. "Judging by this, she's Ella's mum's cousin," he said. "But otherwise, I have no idea."
.oOo.
IX: Tabitha (Boxing Day)
The clock on the bedside table read 3:30am in bright red letters. Next to her, Munroe was sprawled on his stomach, in a deep slumber. He hadn't stirred the few times she'd gotten up to go to the washroom and she doubted he'd rise now. She'd tired him out too thoroughly.
When she'd suggested leaving the party, he'd suggested Apparating to his apartment, as if on cue. She couldn't have planned it better herself.
She gingerly climbed out of the sheets and lifted her wand from the bedside table, trying her best to remain silent. Creeping out of the room soundlessly, she tried her best to ignore the nervous chill that ran through her body as she slipped through the doorway, her thigh grazing against the wooden frame. If Munroe woke up and found her, she was done for. He'd never trust her again, and she'd have lost the best – perhaps the only – chance she had at finding evidence to back up her theory.
No. There was no time for doubts. Not now.
Munroe's apartment was, thankfully, small – a simple one-bedroom in Camden. Still, it was difficult not to feel jealous. It was immaculate, with hardwood floors, high ceilings, interior decoration that was obviously the work of a professional, and overall, an expensive feel to it. It wasn't the kind of place an auror could afford, and Tabitha theorized that his parents had paid for it. Munroe's family must be wealthy. It wouldn't surprise her, given the company he kept.
She wasn't entirely sure where to begin her search, perhaps because in truth, she wasn't sure what she was looking for. A cursory glance around the room revealed a desk littered with papers. She tip-toed towards it, and, creating a small light at the tip of her wand, began to shuffle through them as quietly and quickly as she could. When she found nothing, she cast a muffling charm and began to rifle through the drawers. The first contained nothing but old case files, the second only Munroe's personal documents. A quick examination of those revealed nothing interesting.
The third contained only a single file that warranted more careful examination. Names jumped out at her. Leslie Stiles. Melissa Cooper. Arlington Dursley. And yet nothing was out of place - every single sheet was one that Munroe legally had access to as a member of the team working on the case. There was nothing suspicious, nothing that he shouldn't have.
Sighing, she closed the file, and leaned back against the window. The icy glass pressed against the small of her back, sending shivers down her spine. For a moment, she let her eyes flutter close, and inhaled deeply.
Focus,Tabitha.
Exhaling, she opened her eyes and let her gaze travel around the room until it settled on a shelf just above where Munroe hung his keys. She hadn't noticed it the first time she'd entered the apartment. Granted, she had been otherwise occupied, but the case was rather inconspicuous, painted exactly the same shade of cream as the rest of the wall. It held three volumes: simple, red leatherbound books. Perfectly unremarkable.
Curious, she walked towards the shelf and extracted the first. The cover and spine were unmarked, and it wasn't until she opened it that she realized it was a photo album.
Kneeling down, she began to flick through the pages. The first photo was of a beautiful blonde woman holding a baby that she assumed was Munroe, the next of two small children that she assumed were Munroe and his sister (she didn't know that he had a sister and found herself wondering what sort of relationship he had with her). She noted with surprise that whilst in some photos, people moved, in others they remained perfectly stationary. Clearly, there were muggles in Munroe's family.
She reached the end of the first album before long. It documented Munroe's life from birth until approximately age nine - hardly what she was interested in. Moving on to the second album, she noted with interest the photos of Munroe at Hogwarts. There he was, eleven years old, proudly standing on Platform Nine and Three Quarters next to an owl cage and a trunk larger than he was. There he was at thirteen, all bundled up in a Slytherin scarf and robes. There he was at fifteen, holding up what looked like his O.W.L. grades, an expression of pure joy on his face.
Tabitha turned the page and gasped. There he was at seventeen. He looked resplendent - his hair shiny and combed, his skin glowing, his tie neatly fastened. Her attention, however, was not drawn to him, but to the two girls standing next to him.
One was a beautiful Indian girl. She had dark intelligent eyes framed with glasses, a soft jawline and flowing brown curls. On his right was a striking dirty blonde with a sharp nose and green eyes that seemed to come alive. Both were laughing in the photo.
Tabitha removed the photo from the album and flipped it over. Neatly printed on the other side was the caption:
Angus with Mandira Tiwari and Cecilia Selwyn at their Hogwarts' farewell, 1996.
This was what she needed. Evidence of a connection. Smiling, she leaned down to slip it into the pocket of the pajamas she was wearing when she noticed a slip of parchment on the floor. She reasoned it must have fallen out when she removed the photo from the album, and picked it up.
It was tightly folded, the creases hardened to the point where they had weakened the parchment. Tabitha carefully unfolded it, taking care not to let it tear. It was a letter, dated to the week before.
She scanned through it and cursed silently. It made no sense to her - a mixed-up bundle of letters and symbols, a code or cipher of some sort that she would need to take to the Ministry to be deciphered.
And yet when she reached the end, her eyes widened in shock. It couldn't be. And yet there was her name, written in plain English, signing the letter off.
Tabitha checked the date again. It was written in deep blue ink - December 18th, 2013. But how could this be? Prisoners weren't allowed to send letters.
Mandira Tiwari had broken Azkaban rules to write to Angus Munroe. And Tabitha James had a pretty good idea of why she had done so.
"Merry Christmas," she whispered to herself.
A/N: This chapter took THREE MONTHS to write. Granted, there was very little writing at times (blame my dissertation, guys), but wow – this must be the longest Christmas day ever.
Props to guest reviewer Sarah for reminding me that the tube doesn't run on Christmas day! And props to all of you for sticking with Teddy and his friends – and me!
As usual, updates will likely be slow but steady. I have a pretty comprehensive outline for the rest of fifth year that I can't wait to write, so whenever I get the time, I promise I'll keep going. You can follow me on Tumblr (sincerelynymph) to keep track of my progress!
Have a great 2018, and I'll see you all soon!