In the time of the Order of the Phoenix, a mysterious transfer student from the United States of America comes to Hogwarts. With hair to rival Hermione's, and a tongue to rival Draco's, the suspicions and tensions rise in Professor Snape's classroom. And we thought Dolores Umbridge was the problem...
This story will be told in many different parts, in many different times. It will jump from the years at Hogwarts to the years after the war, and it'll be up to you to figure out the puzzle.
Harry 20
Harry stretched and popped his neck as Ron scraped up the last of the pudding from the casserole dish. Mrs. Weasley had been dropping off puddings and pies via Pigwedgeon nearly daily since Ron and Harry moved in to Grimmauld Place. Neville was their flatmate, too, but it only felt part-time since he spent half the week with Hannah anyhow. The case files were spread over every available surface in the parlor, with quite a few on the floor. Neville was pouring over the results from the potioneer's analysis on the sofa while Harry and Ron sat by the fire. The elephant in the room was clear, but Harry wasn't about to be the one to say it: They needed Ella's help.
"Did any of you imagine her dad to be like that?" Neville suddenly asked from his seat on the sofa. Ron and Harry looked over through the open doorway in question. Neville frowned and put the case files down. "I somehow expected…" He then sighed. "I guess it doesn't matter what I expected." He sipped his tea.
Ron put down his spoon and came over to the couch. Neville didn't look up; Ron put his hands in his pockets. "Y'know, mate…" he began. "You could…" Ron scratched the back of his head. Neville was with Hannah Abbot, now, and Harry didn't reckon that he'd want to see his ex-girlfriend.
"You heard her lawyer," said Neville, sounding a bit defeated. "You want her help, you go through him. He's just doing his job, anyway." He busied himself with looking at the potions ingredient list again. Harry then stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame.
"Mate," he began, unsure of where to go.
"What, Harry?" Neville snapped, giving him a rather nasty look. "You want to go ahead? Break the rules and go find her? We aren't in school anymore. This is real life and we can't get away with the things we used to get away with." He breathed out through his nose. "We have to play by the rules."
"Dark Wizards don't play by the rules—" Harry argued, suddenly feeling rather hot in the face.
"Which is why we aren't Dark Wizards." Neville held up the files. "Who cares if we get it done tonight or not? It's not like Lucius Malfoy's getting any more dead…"
Ron found that rather amusing. "Bloke was a slimy git anyway. I'd like to catch the bloke that did him in so I can shake his hand. Did the world a service, if you ask me."
"We still need to catch them," said Harry. "As much as I dislike it…a murder's a murder." Harry couldn't quite believe what he was saying. He certainly wasn't happy about the entire situation, but he was getting older, and he was getting married to Ginny soon. They'd be starting a life together, starting the family that he'd never had. Maybe it was time that he grew up and started realizing that rules and laws were in place to protect people? An Auror was meant to serve and protect, and Harry was an Auror. He could be more than a rule-breaking teenager, couldn't he?
A light tap-tap-tapping was heard by the parlor window, and the three of them turned to see what it was through the doorframe. Ron must have somehow seen it, for he quickly dashed over to the window to open it. The window was jammed shut, unfortunately, so he went to the window by the big piano and opened that one wide. He stuck his head out and gestured for someone to come in. A warm spring breeze flew in, along with great black raven. It swooped over the kitchen table and seamlessly transformed into Ella Zamora, dressed in a posh Ilvermorny blue, who looked rather out of place in their bachelor pad.
"Thank you," she said to Ron. "Hello," she said to Harry with a friendly enough smile. She turned back to Ron. "I have to go home at midnight. What do you all need?"
"Midnight?" Ron repeated in confusion.
"Don't ask me to explain," she said. "The less you know, the better."
"How did you get passed your father?" Harry asked.
Ella gave him a rather incredulous look. "Am I speaking Portuguese right now? Don't – ask - me – to – explain. The – less – you – know – the – better." She snorted through her nose. "I have until midnight to help you. Let's see those case files."
Harry and Ron looked at each other, and silently agreed with one another that Ella was right. Sometimes, you have to act first and ask questions later. Harry hated to admit it, but it truly was brilliant having a Slytherin friend to do all the rule-breaking for you.
"Yeah, sure," said Harry. He picked up the files he'd had on the table. "These are some of them," he began, "And Neville's got the Potioneer's analysis."
Ella visibly tensed. She then put on a happy smile and turned to Neville, who gave her a stern look and stood, the files clutched in his fist.
"Hello, Neville," she greeted pleasantly. Neville said nothing, and Harry and Ron both became visibly uneasy. "How are you?" Ella tried. Neville said nothing. Ron stepped to Ella's side.
"Let Ella see those files, mate?" he asked nicely. "She wants to help."
"Eager to catch your ex-Father-in-Law's killer, I reckon," Neville snapped, throwing the files down in a pile on the coffee table and stomping off. Harry braced himself—Ella wasn't about to take that lying down. He quickly stood in front of the kitchen knife drawer to block it from Ella's immediate view.
"What the flames is your problem?!" she shouted at him. "I'm trying to help!" She stomped after him down the hall.
He pivoted to face her. "By snogging Malfoy in front of the Auror's office?" Neville shot coldly.
"Whoa!" gasped Ella, putting her hands up in protest. "Where do you get the balls to be jealous? I'm the one that got dumped, if you recall!"
Neville's anger was quite plainly replaced with shock. "Wha—?! I didn't dump you! You moved to Brazil!"
"What?!" blasted Ella, both her hands on her hips. "I didn't move to Brazil! I was sent there on an expedition in order to gain my citizenship to Great Britain! My hands were tied!"
"You could have married me!" Neville insisted.
"And spend the rest of my life wondering if my husband actually wanted to marry me or not? You couldn't even be bothered to make a genuine effort when you proposed—!"
"—Well I'm so sorry that I couldn't just go out and buy you a giant enchanted engagement ring—"
"—You didn't even get a ring, you idiot—you just shouted 'WILL YOU MARRY ME' across the library, in front of everyone—"
"—You still could have said yes when I asked—"
"—You couldn't even get my middle name right! 'Ella Xanadu Zamora?' Are you serious?"
"Yeah? Well?!" Neville's face went an odd shade of purple. "Your name is stupid!"
Ella gasped rather dramatically, her jaw dropping. There was an extremely tense moment. Ron and Harry exchanged a side-eyed look, both silently agreeing to not move or speak until the tension was somehow broken.
The silence was broken with a sob. Neville's face softened as Ella Zamora was reduced to tears. A panic filled Harry's heart, and Ron gave Neville an extremely angry look. They'd only been related for three years, but Ron had certainly become protective of his cousin-in-law. Her hand came up and covered her nose and mouth as her head bent, a curtain of black curls shielding her face.
"Why didn't you write me?" Ella sobbed. "It wasn't over for me—!" Ron came quickly and wrapped his arms around Ella in a comforting embrace. Ella wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
"Y-You moved!" Neville stuttered. "The expedition—! Y-Y-You left for Brazil—!" Harry felt extremely uncomfortable.
"And you never came after me!" she screamed, pointing an accusatory finger. Ron took her hand and gathered her in his arms, trying his very best to calm her tears.
Neville's face went white. "I-I-I—!" He opened his arms, pleading. "I-I didn't know that you wanted me to—" Harry side-stepped slowly towards the hallway in hopes of inching by the drama enough to get to his bedroom.
"Oh, please!" Ella snapped, swinging a free arm angrily as Ron tried desperately to console her. "You actually expect me to believe that you were really – still – that – dense?! I told you that the expedition was to learn about and study South American plants for medicinal purposes! I said that they were searching for Herbology experts, you thick – ass – doughnut! What the hell else would that mean?!"
Just when Harry had reached the base of the stairs, the floor board creaked, causing all three of them—a pantomime of various emotions—to look his way. Harry froze. He gulped. Ella sighed and wiped her eyes and nose on Ron's tie, then shrugged herself away.
"Just forget it." She walked to the sofa and proceeded to pick up the case files.
Neville started towards her, but quickly stopped himself. His face was stark white, his eyes wide as saucers. Ron went to the sofa with the rest of the files and sat himself down next to Ella. Harry wondered if he'd ever know what had happened between them to make them so close. He moved to join them, just to be in earshot of Neville whispering to himself "I've made the biggest mistake of my life." Harry didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.
Neville excused himself and quietly went upstairs. The three of them convened in the parlor. Ella's eyes were a bit red, as was her nose, but she still looked to be rather composed.
"Huh," she said, sniffling away the remainder of any tears she may have had. "That's odd."
"Sorry," began Harry. "What's odd?"
"This Potioneer's analysis," she said, her brow furrowed in focus. "Can I have the autopsy?"
Ron got up and grabbed the file from the kitchen table, then quickly returned with it in hand. "What are you looking for?" he asked.
"Poisons are interesting," she said. "Lucius Malfoy wasn't the kind of person to not make an impression. It's likely when you're murdered, it was by someone you knew. It's only in special cases that a murder is random... We're absolutely sure it wasn't a suicide?"
Harry didn't quite follow, and neither did Ron. "We're not," he admitted.
"Git had every reason to off himself," said Ron. "But it's...something doesn't smell right about it."
"Hmm," said Ella, spreading them out. "Hmm-hmm-hmm…"
"Er…" Harry began. "If we knew what you were looking for—?"
Ella held up her finger to stopper his words. She leaned back on the sofa, crossed her legs, and closed her eyes. She took in a deep breath through her nose and sighed, long and low, through her lips. Harry and Ron exchanged a look. Her lips began moving, and – upon leaning in – they could audibly hear her chanting to herself: "Think. Think. Think." Ron non-verbally excused himself to make a pot of tea. Harry decided to join him in the kitchen.
"What do you think she's doing?" Harry whispered.
Ron shrugged. "Too scared to ask," he whispered back.
"D'you think…?" Harry was unsure of how to put it into words. "Was Neville actually serious when he proposed two years ago?"
"Don't know." Ron shifted uncomfortably, then snatched the kettle off the stove before it could whistle. He poured the hot water over the tea bags. "I mean…she's cool," Ron admitted. "But can you really imagine Neville and Ella getting hitched?" Harry couldn't help but snicker through his nose. "Guess I shouldn't make fun, though. Kid seems hurt." Harry nodded.
"But he's with Hannah, now," Harry argued quietly. Surely, after two years and a loving relationship with Hannah, Neville'd be far over Ella by now…
"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Well. Best not talk about it anymore. Those smart ones…they get scary when they're mad." Harry nodded in agreement. They came out with a modest tea tray of Earl Gray and some biscuits from the tin. Ella was still in that closed-eye position, barely breathing. The two sat down.
"Apples," she said, causing Harry and Ron to startle a little. The teacups shifted on the tray, and Ron quickly set them down. "Apples," she said again. She opened her eyes. "Oh, lovely," she said with a honeyed smile as she eyed the tea tray. Ron poured her a cup of tea.
"What about apples?" asked Harry.
"They grow in the Malfoy's garden," she said, handing Harry the Potioneer's analysis. "To the south, there's a grove of apple trees that bloom the first day of Spring. The poison itself is a potion that you've never seen before, right?" Harry nodded. "Look at the Herbologist's notes. Compounds of hemlock, of course, as well as the word "bitter almond poison?" scribbled in the margins." She looked at Harry. "Go to Malfoy Manor and get some of their apples. They should have tons of them in the storerooms below from last autumn. Ten galleons says that the murderer got the poison derived from the apple seeds."
"Apple seeds are poisonous?" Harry queried.
"In large amounts, yes." She added four sugar cubes to her tea cup and stirred. "The seeds from a single apple won't do you any harm. If you were to down a whole cup of apple seeds, you'd definitely die, although it would take several hours to kill you. Ever heard of arsenic? Cyanide?" Harry nodded, while Ron looked confused. "Those are things that came from fruit seeds, such as apples or apricots."
"Brilliant!" praised Harry. "Er—I mean, you're brilliant. Poison's…bad." Ella scoffed, and Ron fixed himself and Harry their own tea cups. "So…who would know about the apples?"
"Someone close to the Malfoys?" suggested Ron.
"Someone who knew the Malfoy grounds well," Ella agreed.
"The Notts?"
"Oh please," shot Ella. "Teddy has no reason to kill Draco's father. Look for someone with a motive…and look for someone smart; someone that Lucius trusted." Ella sipped her tea. "The killer is someone who he trusted enough to allow into his home, to be around his wife, his wealth…someone that knew about the apples…" She leaned her head back on the sofa, then glanced in Harry's direction. "Do you have the suicide note?" Harry nodded. "Am I allowed to see it?" Harry thought for a long time, remembered what her father said, considered his options, and then finally shook his head to say 'no.' Ella closed her eyes. "In that case... Please read it to me, aloud, nice and slow."
Harry flipped the pages in the file in front of them and found the suicide note. It was written in an impeccable hand, with many flourishes and rather small. He cleared his throat and read aloud:
"'My heart is too full. My only son, my treasure. I cannot bear the pain that I have caused him for another moment. I only hope he may someday forgive me for what I have done. Lucius Malfoy.'"
Harry watched Ella's face, which remained neutral. Ron rolled his eyes, but wasn't about to say anything out loud with Ella there. There was a long silence.
"Read that again, if you please," Ella requested. "Nice and slow." Harry abided, confused. Ella's eyes opened. "It's his handwriting?" asked she.
"It appears to be his handwriting," Harry replied, feeling unsure.
"Is it large or small?" Ella asked.
"Sorry?"
"The handwriting. Is it large or small?"
Harry glanced at the parchment. "Small," he decided. Ella frowned and pressed her palms together in thought, touching her fingertips to her lips, and twitching her nose.
"Does the handwriting slant to the right?"
"Why does that matter?" queried Ron, feeling rather confused.
Harry glanced at the parchment again. "Yes," he replied. "A bit dramatically, in fact." Ella sighed through her nose.
"It wasn't a suicide. Someone killed him," said Ella. She turned to Harry. "Or, at least, he didn't write the suicide note."
"What? You're barking," said Ron. "You can't know who did it just from that!"
"Do not tell me what I can or cannot do," stated Ella. "Graphology is a legitimate science."
"What's graphology?"
"The study of handwriting. It's quite interesting...I picked it up when I was eight."
"How can you know all of that?" balked Ron.
"I just have a crazy-good memory," Ella replied with a little laugh. "It's called a Mind Palace. It's a special way of learning to remember things...anybody can make one! That's how I keep my thoughts organized, how I repel legilimens... It's extremely useful."
"Is it a form of occlumency?" he asked.
"No, not at all. It's just a way to keep your thoughts organized so you never forget anything. It's so easy, even No-Majs can do it. Not that they would..."
Harry frowned in question, then wondered if his not-so-successful attempts at occlumency may have been made easier if he hadn't been so proud as to not ask Ella for help. He began to regret all the time he wasn't her friend. "When did you see Lucius Malfoy's handwriting?" he then asked.
Ella shrugged. "Draco and his father wrote letters to each other all the time. I'd glance over his shoulder and see it."
Harry was reminded of how inseparable she and Malfoy were, once upon a time. She could be rather mean, it was true, but Luna said that she loved him, and that he loved her back. If they felt love, friendship, then they truly couldn't be the worst thing ever. He wouldn't understand her, ever, but Harry was learning, slowly, to appreciate and admire her...like a friend. "And you remember?"
"Everyone remembers. They just forget that they do." That makes no sense... "I can't explain it. I guess that means I don't fully understand it, either. Einstein once said that you don't fully understand something you can't explain simply."
Harry shifted and leaned forward. "Ella," he began. "You quote muggle scientists. You learn from muggle mathematicians." She nodded in agreement. "But...you're a Pureblooded Witch. You don't feel that knowledge is...beneath you?" She shook her head.
"Wizardkind has never had a reason to seek out 'why' because all of their problems are solved by magic. When a Muggle struggles, they question, they find an answer...one thing I'll say about them is that they're not lazy. In fact, I think that they're rather ingenious. The only problem is that their ingenuity is hand-in-hand with their cruelty. They lead such wretched, miserable lives, and yet the few of them choose to rise above and find an answer. I think the lot of them as a group is rather deplorable, but you do find a few diamonds in that coal mine. Albert Einstein, Marie Curie, Nikola Tesla, Edward Jenner, Stephen Hawking...even their art is better. Van Gogh. Beethtoven. Art comes from great suffering, and who but the Muggles suffer the most? Who leads a more wretched life than a Muggle? When they're sick, they suffer. They can't just wave a wand and make it better. When they're cold, they can't cast a heating charm or conjure a fire. When it's dark, they can't just make a light. They had to find a way to create it...and they did. They've created the most phenomenal things, the most wonderful machines that do wonderful things." She sighed. "The movies. The internet. Telephones. Automobiles. Those little tabs on soda pop cans. Wonderful inventions! Don't you think?"
"Blimey, it's like being with Hermione," sighed Ron. "Wonder what it's like inside your head...?"
Ella laughed. "You wouldn't last five minutes." She then stopped laughing and looked at Harry. A light went off in her eyes, which Harry knew couldn't be good. "But you might." Nope. Not good. "Harry." She reached across the coffee table and put her hand on his wrist. "Did Professor Snape teach your occlumency?"
Harry's chest tightened at the memories of Professor Snape's lessons. "He tried."
"Did he succeed?"
"I mean..." Harry trailed off. "Sort of?"
"Did you manage to repel Voldemort?"
"Sometimes..." said Harry, a bit red in the face now with both confusion and embarrassment.
"Spectacular!" said Ella without a hint of sarcasm. "Now, did you ever try legilimency?"
Harry thought back to when he successfully penetrated Snape's mind by using 'protego.' "Ella?" Ron asked. "What are you planning?"
"Harry knows what he's looking for," Ella explained. "I don't." That makes no sense. "Harry, if you can get inside my head, look through my memories of Lucius Malfoy, of the Manor...then maybe you can catch the killer?"
"We're not sending Harry inside your head, you lunatic!" gasped Ron. "We'll go to the Ministry. We'll use the Pensieve. Get a memory from ya..."
"No way!" Ella argued. "Not only is that breaking the rules in about ten different ways, but a memory is tangible. You can't just throw it away or hide it...someone's going to find it. And let's recall that I'm not supposed to be here. In fact, I wasn't here. I'm not even here now." She huffed. "Listen. I keep my mind organized. You can navigate it. I'll help you. Just as long as you don't touch anything in there, I'll come out fine and so will you! And even if you see something weird on accident, I won't get mad. I promise."
"But it's dangerous!" Ron argued.
"Oh, honestly, Ron. Where's your sense of adventure?" She set her tea down. "My dad's not going to let anyone near me while this case is going on. This is the only way that's safe enough for me to help you."
"Er...I..." Harry was unsure of what to say. Ron seemed wholly against the entire idea. He wanted Hermione's help, but Hermione wasn't an Auror, and Harry's rule-breaking wasn't about to get her in trouble, either. He then decided that Ella was likely right. Besides, if she knew what she was doing, then perhaps he could find the piece of the puzzle that was missing? After all, if Ella remembered everything, it would simply be like watching a movie and looking for the right supporting character.
"Harry, listen." Ella cleared her throat. "If it were just one memory, it would be one thing...but the person we're looking for knows the ins and outs of Malfoy Manor, knows Lucius Malfoy, and had a long time to think about and plan this. Whoever did it was likely around Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco quite a bit, and that means that I likely know them, too." A beat. "You know what you're looking for when you look for a killer. You're the Auror here."
"What about me?" asked Ron.
"You're to stay here and watch the clock, make sure we don't go over-time. Also, take me to St. Mungo's Memory Care ward if I end up getting befuddled..."
"What?" balked Ron and Harry in unison.
"Look, it'll be fine!" insisted Ella. "You have to pay attention. Watch, don't touch, don't speak while you're in there," she stated. "This isn't the first time I've done this...just the first time I've done it with you."
"Who else have you done this with?" asked Harry, even though he likely knew the answer.
"My mother, if you must know." she shot. "Who do you think showed me occlumency? Legilimency? This is the only way I can think of to help you without getting my father involved or getting us caught that works immediately."
"What if he catches you anyway? Your dad?" Ron asked.
"Oh, please, I've got a 21-year-streak of skirting around his eye. You think I'm gonna screw it up now?" Ron couldn't help but smile. "Remember. Straight to St. Mungo's if I end up befuddled. Ask for Rosalie." She glanced at the clock. "We have a little more than two hours before I have to leave for home. Are you ready, Harry?"
Whether I am or not, you seem to be... He took in and let out a long breath. He nodded. "Let's do it."
Ella bid Ron pull the big armchair next to the sofa, where she laid down. Harry stood over her and took out his wand, while Ron sat in the chair. She smiled. "Listen, you're only there to observe. You're just a shadow in there, okay? Nothing's going to physically harm you. Everything will pass right through you as if you weren't there. Don't speak, don't touch, don't try to interact with anything in there. Or you get to explain to my dad why I'm befuddled in your parlor."
He gulped. "Brilliant."
She smiled in, what Harry guessed, was meant to be a comforting way. "When you point your wand and say 'legilimens', think of the phrase "mind palace." This will take you to where you need to go. And what are you to not do?"
"'Speak or touch anything.'" Harry recited. Ella nodded. "Are you sure it's going to be okay?"
"Are we ever?" she joked. Ron looked nervous, likely because he didn't want to have to explain this to Hermione later. "Go ahead." She let out a long, soothing breath. "I'm ready."
Harry pointed his wand at her brow, feeling nervous, but ready. He remembered the voice of Professor Snape, telling him to calm his racing heart, to empty himself of emotion. He repeated, in his head, 'mind palace, mind palace, mind palace' and cast: "Legilimens." He was pushed forward.
Harry opened his eyes. He was in the gardens of what looked like the Taj Mahal, with clear waters and pristine white masonry. There was no sky or ground; everything was just all in a glaring white, where gold and silver snowflakes were gently falling and soaking into the ground. To his immediate left stood a stately palace with a golden pitched roof. He glanced around, hearing everything and nothing all at once. Looking directly in front, a hooded figure, all in white, came towards him. He tensed, fighting the instinct to take his wand out. He reminded himself that nothing could harm him, and that he was traipsing about in someone else's head...not the time to be reckless.
The hooded figure stopped in front of him and removed their cowl. It was Ella. Her face was plain with no painted lips or curled lashes, and her hair was long and soft down her shoulders. There was a strange sort of serenity in her eyes that made the shadow almost unrecognizable.
"I am Tranquility," spoke the figure, whose clothes turned to bright orange. "Feel no fear in this place, Harry Potter. I will guide you." The voice sounded like Ella's, but with none of her snark or sarcasm, so it was clearly not Ella at all. "Please follow me." The figure walked slowly towards the palace. When Harry looked, it had no reflection in the pools in the garden. He followed silently, walking passed the statues of white marble, fashioned in the shapes of people, animals, all with gold name plates at the bases. One particular statue caught his eye.
He stopped at the figure of a woman that appeared to be guarding the house, right in the center of the courtyard, dressed in long, beaded robes with long straight hair with feathers woven in and out. The statue was the only one with flowers growing on it, and Harry recognized them to be bunches of heather blooms, all in purple. The woman was standing tall, straight, surveying all and protecting all, and Harry felt a strange kind of reverence the more he gazed. The plate at the bottom of the statue read: "Professor Fivehorses."
"You are curious," spoke Tranquility, snapping Harry to attention. "That is fine to be so." Tranquility looked at the statue. "That is Professor Fivehorses, Head of Thunderbird House, and likely the Witch Ella admires the most, second to Professor McGonagall, who is just over there."
Harry glanced to his left, and to his shock and surprise stood a statue of Professor McGonagall, wand out, standing ferociously in a battle pose. At the base of the statue grew a ring of thick green stalks that smelled rather pungent. Harry wondered what the plant was, and why a statue of McGonagall was standing next to Ella's favorite Professor from Ilvermorny. "Garlic," explained Tranquility. "It is a herb of strength, of healing, of ultimate protection, likely one of the most-powerful there is. There's an old No-Maj folktale that states if you eat enough garlic you'll be able to breathe fire, like a dragon." She pointed at the statue. "She is very important. But please remain focused. You may return here, if you so desire, at a later date." She moved on, and walked into the palace. Harry quickly followed into the blinding white light.
The light died down, and he found himself in a room not unlike the hallways of the Ministry of Magic, all in brown. He stood in front of a door in the middle of an endless hallway that ran either way with endless amounts of doors just like it. Tranquility opened the door; it was pitch black inside. A somewhat foreboding breeze was coming from within, and with it came a few dead elm leaves that scattered on the floor, then vanished.
"This door holds all of the memories associated with Lucius Malfoy," she explained. "You may go inside and look around, but please refrain from speaking unless it is to exit the mind. In this room, you will find the most-recent memories at the very front. When you are ready to exit, simply say the phrase: 'cheese and olive sandwich.'"
"'Cheese and olive sandwich'?" Harry repeated in utter confusion, and was jerked by his naval out of the mind, back into his body where he was standing over an extremely angry-looking Ella Zamora, who was anything but tranquil. She held her head, which appeared to be throbbing and coated with sweat.
"God-DAMMIT Harry!" she cursed. "Do you wonder why you're not in Ravenclaw?!"
Harry gave a nervous laugh. "Not really," he said. Ella snorted in anger and took a glug of tea. After a few deep breaths and another biscuit down the hatch, she was ready to go again. She nodded for Harry to try again, and Harry reentered her mind...
Back at the wooden door, Tranquility was waiting. She motioned inside with a grin. "Please remember to speak "cheese and olive sandwich" only should you choose to exit the mind." Harry nodded silently with a smile. "No need for thanks. I know you are grateful. Please, go inside."
Harry took in a deep breath and stared into the abyss. There was no sign of any type of floor, wall, or ceiling. He noted the door, which was fashioned of wood with a frosted glass pane that had "Lucius Malfoy" etched in. Going into Snape's mind wasn't nearly this organized, and he'd seen so many flashes and layers of memories that it turned his head. Now wasn't the time, though; now was the time to be brave and move forward.
Holding his breath, Harry threw himself into the blackness of the room and was shockingly found in a closet, all in white, all carpeted, all lined with racks and racks of fancy clothes. He saw a mirror, but Harry had no reflection; instead, it was Ella, who was bright-eyed and clothed in black slacks and a black tee shirt. Her hair was long and down around her shoulders, and she was putting on some gold bangles. Harry looked down at himself to see if he was actually there, and as he did he couldn't help but gasp as Hermione walked straight through him. Only...was that really Hermione?
"I don't know about this." Hermione's voice rang clear as a bell, but she looked so different it was almost beyond recognition. Her hair was straight and pulled and twisted into a fancy updo, and upon her ears were the largest diamond chandelier earrings he'd ever seen. Her eyes were heavy with makeup, and her lips were painted a blood red color. She was wearing a fluffy white bathrobe, but beneath it Harry could see the sparkling hem of a gown. "I just...I mean...are you sure?"
He looked to Ella, who smiled. "Am I going to have to take that robe off myself?" Hermione looked as if she were on the verge of tears. "It can't look that bad; all of my dresses are self-adjusting. Let's see." Hermione turned away; Harry could see in the reflection of the mirror she was feeling extremely embarrassed. Ella came up behind her and removed the bathrobe gently. Harry couldn't help but gasp.
Hermione was garbed in a long, slinky black gown with impeccable lacework done around the hems. The neckline was certainly lower than Hermione would have liked, and Harry could tell how uncomfortable her naked shoulders were; he hated to think of how pretty she looked, especially when he knew how uncomfortable she was. Ella brought black opera gloves, which went all the way over Hermione's elbows when slipped on. She rummaged through a small treasure chest of jewelry so fine that it rivaled all reason and found a silver ring with the largest ruby that Harry had ever seen. She slipped it on Hermione's left hand.
"Is this the face that launched a thousand ships, and burned the topless tours of Ilyum?"
"Don't," sighed Hermione, clearly distressed at her reflection. "Oh, Ella, are you...?" She sighed. "Are you sure this is 'me'?"
"Of course not," Ella replied. "The people here don't like you." Hermione went red, her eyes welled with tears. "That's why you have to do this. That's why you have to show them that you are more than your work. They've got to see the rest of you, that wonderful complex being that you are. You're going into battle tonight; one doesn't dive into a battle unprepared." Ella took her powder and brushed some onto Hermione's cheeks. "This isn't makeup; this is war paint." Hermione scoffed a little. Ella took a wreath of diamonds that could likely buy Cokeworth and hung it at Hermione's throat. "This isn't a necklace, this is your weapon." She spanked Hermione's rear, which caused a gasp. "This isn't a dress; this is armor." She smiled. "Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and think of the most-beautiful thought in your heart." Hermione smiled and obeyed; Ella took her perfume from a crystal bottle and spritzed it on Hermione's shimmering brown hair. "There. That's better, isn't it?"
Hermione opened her eyes again and looked at her reflection, which was unearthly beautiful. "I don't even recognize me," she breathed.
"Wait!" cried Ella, pointing at her feet. "What are those?"
Hermione lifted the hem of her gown to reveal her plain black pumps, the ones she wore for work. "Oh, it's fine, nobody will see them," she said with a grin.
"No-no-no!" gasped Ella. "It ruins the whole look! I thought I told you to pick some shoes from my closet!"
"All of yours are too big..."
Ella puffed up her bangs from her brow, annoyed. "Lift up your gown." Hermione tensed as Ella brought out her wand, and waved it around flamboyantly. "Bibbity bobbity boo!" Sparkles of silver and gold flourished around in a swirl and the plain black pumps were transfigured into shimmering slippers as pure as silver. "All better! And the enchantment will fade at sunrise, so you'll have your shoes back." Hermione laughed with glee. Harry couldn't believe that Ella just used a spell from an old cartoon movie in real life to do real magic. "Gracious, is that the time? We'd better get a move on. The carriage will be here any moment..."
"Carriage?!" Hermione gasped. This is like Cinderella, thought Harry, amused. "You're having a carriage brought to Cokeworth?"
"It'll be fine," said Ella with a wave of her hand. She slipped on some pointy-toed ballet flats. "No-Majs won't see Meme's carriage. They'll think it's a big yellow taxi." She pinched her cheeks and swirled on some nude lipstick and a touch of mascara. "Ready?" Hermione paused. "What's wrong?"
"I..." She gulped. "I heard what Malfoy - er - Draco did." Ella's face changed. "I just... They're going to be there tonight, aren't they?" Ella smiled dismissively with a shrug and summoned a fine fur shawl and draped it over Hermione's shoulders. "Are you going to be alright?"
"Tonight's not about me, Draco, Lucius, or anyone else..." She took Hermione's chin. "It's about you tonight. You're the star. You're shining."
"But it's Zabini's party..."
"Don't go in thinking that. Go in thinking that it's your party. And let me take care of the rest." A bell rang. "Let's go!"
Harry blinked and their shadows faded and brightened all at once, and Harry was in the middle of a lavish party, far finer than was appropriate. There were shadows and voices fading all around where Ella and Hermione was. He quickly figured that he couldn't hear what was going on with everyone else because he was only seeing Ella's memories and what she saw. Suddenly, the Malfoys were announced and Ella downed the rest of the whiskey that was in her hand and smiled at Hermione. Zabini was on her right.
"Now that the Malfoys are here, why not invite Hermione to have the first dance?" Harry just then noticed that Ella was still wearing the tee shirt and slacks while everyone else was dressed so fine that he almost forgot he were not at the Yule Ball.
Zabini cringed, but conceded, saying "Well, since I can't have the first one with you..." He motioned to her attire. He turned to Hermione, stiffly. "Miss Granger?" he offered his arm. Hermione looked rather aghast, but went along with the dance before anyone could say no. The music swelled and Ella made her way towards the punch bowl, whispering in the ears of those that she passed:
"Is that Hermione Granger? Look at that gown! I thought she was just some stuffy lawyer, but I suppose I was wrong!" Harry couldn't help but laugh to himself at her game, making everyone in the whole party look at Hermione instead of herself. She snatched up a cognac from a House Elf's tray and continued to circle the party, making comments behind everyone's backs about how lovely Hermione looked. By the time that cognac was gone and she'd snatched up a tumbler of whiskey from another tray, Lucius Malfoy had found her. Harry could feel the tension in Ella's heart as if it were his own. She grinned pleasantly. "Good evening, Mister Malfoy," she greeted sweetly; Harry felt the secret, seething rage in his own heart that she was obviously feeling at that moment. It burned so hotly that he felt he might scream, and his ears felt like they were going to catch fire.
"Ella Zamora," he greeted. "We meet at last." He offered his hand. Harry's hand felt cold, and he realized that she was gripping the icy glass hard enough to nearly crack it. He felt the sudden urge to transform into a raven and peck his bloody eyes out, but then realized that he was feeling what Ella was feeling as he shook his hand. "There was a time that Draco spoke of nothing else."
"Same could be said about you, Mister Malfoy." If Ron had been there, this would be the part where he gasped 'bloody hell' with a big laugh. Harry was feeling too furious to feel any sort of humor.
"Word travels fast of your work," Lucius Malfoy mentioned, almost offhandedly. "The revolutionary potioneer, using muggle findings to further her studies..."
"You're thanking me, then?" Harry felt the internal rage so clearly that he almost doubled over in pain. He knew that Ella felt her emotions deeply, but he hadn't any idea of the extent. "You're most welcome, in that case, Mister Malfoy. The pleasure was all mine."
Mister Malfoy tensed his grip on his silver-and-black walking stick.
"I expect that it's a great load off your chest. You know, all things considered." She swigged her whiskey. A tickle was felt in the back of Harry's mind, then whispers and voices, and a whole range of emotions from both Ella and Lucius, like a drill coming in at both temples to meet in the middle. His vision shattered as the conversation went on. Was he experiencing Ella using legilimency on Malfoy's father while Harry was using legilimency on her? "I expect that you're relieved that this kind of thing was moved forward before the connection was made to you."
"How dare you...!" whispered Mister Malfoy, trying terribly hard to be intimidating.
Ella smiled sweetly. "I'll go down in history as the brightest witch of my age for my work, a marvelous, philanthropic potioneer. They can't fit everything I've done on my soon-to-be-printed Chocolate Frog card, and I've barely turned twenty-one. What do you think they'd put on yours, Mister Malfoy?" Lucius tensed, and Ella felt his emotions surge. "Go ahead. Pull out that wand. Give me a reason. Or give my father one. He's the wizard over there, talking to your son." Harry looked over and saw across the room, Ella's father speaking with Draco, who was looking longingly at Ella, like he might...cry?
"Malfoy was there, too..." whispered Harry to himself, and the memory quickly shifted and jerked violently around to create a new one. He was on the pumpkin patch back at Hogwarts on a brisk autumn afternoon. Ella and Malfoy were snuggling on a picnic blanket while students were carving pumpkins all around them. Harry realized that he must have accidentally sent himself to a memory involving Draco by saying what he did out loud. He cursed inwardly, trying not to trigger another shift.
"I'm so happy you decided to come!" said Ella, all wrapped up in stockings and skirts and warm green sweaters. "We've got an hour to just sit and enjoy..." A cool autumn breeze came, swirling leaves all around."Draco, hand me my drink, will you?" Ella asked Malfoy, pointing to the picnic basket. He pulled out a cranberry red thermos and examined it; Harry realized that Malfoy likely hadn't ever seen one before, and then wondered why Ella had one. "Want some?" She took the thermos from his pale hand and opened it, steam from hot apple cider rising into the chilly air. "Mulled cider...my mom's recipe!"
"How did you...?" gasped Malfoy.
Ella frowned in confusion.
"That long mug... It's...cold on the outside but hot on the inside," he commented.
"Oh!" she laughed. "It's a thermos." Harry felt Ella's thoughts inside his own mind, and he got the feeling that they were far more lenient in America about using muggle devices at Ilvermorny. Malfoy then took out his wand and pointed it at the brown ceramic mug he had been drinking out of.
"Thermos!" he cast. Nothing happened, and Malfoy looked at his wand in confusion. He swished-and-flicked. "Thermos!" he tried again. Harry saw Ella's face, and felt her emotions in his heart, and with all of that swept a wave of warmth and the words: 'I must protect this precious angel'...
"Here," Ella said, taking his hand with hers. "It's more like..." She took out her own wand and twirled it thrice anti-clockwise and pointed. "Together." They twirled their wands anti-clockwise and pointed. Malfoy cast 'thermos' again, but Ella mouthed something different, and his mug transfigured into a tall thermos that was checked with black and gray. Malfoy frowned as he picked it up.
"I wanted black," he commented. Harry didn't want to be there to witness any romantic moments, but he was too afraid to say anything else in case he was projected to an even grosser memory.
Ella's eyebrows lifted. "I wanted dove gray," she said.
Malfoy frowned. "But black matches all of my clothes."
She leaned her chin on his shoulder and said: "But dove gray matches your eyes, don't you think?"
Harry had enough, and shouted "Cheese and olive sandwich!" as loud as he could. He was blasted back, sweat dripping all down his shirt and through his tie, his hair stuck to his forehead as he stood over Ella on the couch, who looked both a combination of extremely pained and extraordinarily perturbed.
"Er—uh—sorry," stumbled Harry. She shakily stood, her ankles wobbling like a newborn doe, and Harry quickly scurried away from her. "I-I didn't mean to—!" He jumped out of the way as green sparks flew from Ella's wand.
"ELLA, NO!" cried Ron as he tripped over the coffee table in an attempt to stop her.
"Ella, YES!" shouted Ella as she set a fire spell at Harry's backside. "Filpendo!" she cast, the armchair flying into the ceiling as Harry retreated around the corner.
"It was an accident, I swear!" cried Harry from behind the bookcase. The teapot smashed against the wall right by his head. "You promised you wouldn't get mad!"
"Hitler promised to not invade Czechoslovakia, Harry—welcome to the real world!"
Phew!
Here we have another chapter that deals with a LOT of plot points. There's quite a bit going on here, and occlumency/legilimency is very present. This was the most-fun way I could think of to do the party scene that involved the conversation between Lucius and Ella without giving too much away, so I hope I did okay on it!
Entering the 'mind palace' was a fun scene for me. I wondered what it would be like for skilled legilimens to navigate their own thoughts, or the thought of others...and figured I'd snag the idea from "Sherlock." By keeping one's thoughts organized by groups and associations, it's MUCH easier to remember things, which is how Ella's got that freaky-awesome memory. The protectors of the Mind Palace are those that she admires, which are - of course - Professor Fivehorses and Professor McGonagall. Sure, there's fear from McGonagall...but ultimately Ella has the utmost respect for her...at least, now she does. Lol.
More plot points, more drama...and what a nasty acid fight from Neville! Yikes! Stay tuned for more!