Hello once again!
This chapter goes boldly into the future...sort of. (It takes place a year after the last chapter).
I am aiming for an update a week. Hopefully I'll keep to that (as long as there is no mental blockage).
BTW, thanks for the reviews. Just to let you know, there will be little or no translations from now on as the story has moved away from France.
Hope you like it.
Disclaimer: No, I'm not her. Yes, it's obvious.
Chapter 12: Rarely Pure
(A Year Later).
Tap – tap. Tap.
Remus opened his eyes slowly, straining to hear a light tapping, at once familiar yet seemingly far away.
Tap – tap. Tap.
He turned his head towards the insistent sound. It seemed to come from the kitchen window.
Taptaptap.
He rolled off the lumpy sofa in his tiny sitting room and stumbled to the kitchen. In the faint light of dawn, he could see a large brown barn owl flapping its wings as it hovered in mid – air, a rolled – up copy of The Daily Prophet tied to its leg. Pushing the window open, he fumbled with the paper then slipped a knut from his trouser pocket (his last) and stuffed it into the small burlap sack attached to the other leg. The owl was off instantly and Remus watched as it became a speck in the distance, illuminated by the rising sun.
The scent of the countryside after the rain wafted through the open window, filling his lungs with the renewed hope of spring. Remus smiled as he looked down at the Prophet in his hands. His smile faded instantly. The headline, flashing garishly in red, caught him by surprise.
Auror Killed – Two Charged with MurderIllegal healer and suspected former Death Eater, Celestia del Fuego was arrested early yesterday after a battle erupted in her west end London home. The former celebrated healer (and follower of He – Who – Must – Not – Be – Named) was arrested on suspicion of murder after rookie Auror, Thaddeus Pike, was killed while trying to break up a fight that had erupted between del Fuego and French wizard, Henri de la Falaise.
Aurors were alerted to a disturbance at one a.m., writes Rita Skeeter, special correspondent, and Pike, on the job for only a month, was sent to investigate. Neighbours say that Pike entered the house, located at 252 Wicking Lane, at about one fifteen a.m., instructing them to "stay inside."
It is unclear exactly what happened next, the only witnesses being the two suspects and the granddaughter of one of the accused, Kali del Fuego, 16. After being apprehended in the home by a team of Aurors, the Ministry has charged both Del Fuego and de la Falaise with murder, pending a full investigation.
A Ministry official, on the promise of anonymity, spoke with this reporter, citing the confusion over just who delivered the fatal spell. "Only the foreign fellow's wand seemed to be used," the official told this reporter, "but there was evidence of more than one spell hitting the poor young chap." This has lead to speculation within the Ministry that perhaps the youngest del Fuego was somehow involved. "The girl will be held in custody until the mess is sorted out," the official told The Daily Prophet.
This reporter has to ask, as will faithful readers, why a young man, new to the job, would be dispatched to the home of a notorious and dangerous member of the wizarding community alone. This reporter also has to wonder…
Remus threw the paper aside in disgust, the feeling of incredulity that had been building up inside him as he read the article reaching its peak. He couldn't fathom what he had just read; yet somehow, he knew there was truth in it. A young man was dead, no doubt. That Celestia had anything to do with it was probable, but that Kali may have had something to do with it – no. He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't.
She wouldn't.
Almost two years ago, he may have believed it was possible for Sirius Black's daughter to be a murderer, but now, after having known her, taught her, he couldn't see it. Perhaps that was his weakness, skimming over the darkness in people. He had seen the darkness in his classmate, his friend, but he chose to ignore it, to see past it, and when it was staring him right in the face, around it. With Kali, though, it had been different. It had taken him many months to see past the darkness and to the better part of the girl. He wasn't blinded by her beauty (as most, doubtless, were); he wasn't taken in by her innate charm. She had to work to gain his trust (though she probably never realized it), and in doing that, he learned to trust his own instincts once more.
They couldn't be wrong. Could they?
Remus knew what he had to do. He went to the fireplace nestled in the corner of the room and stoked the dying flames until the fire roared once more. Taking a jar from the mantle, he reached in and grabbed a handful of green powder and tossed it into the fire. The flames glowed emerald green. Sticking his head between the flames, he called out, "Professor Dumbledore's private quarters, Hogwarts Castle," and instantly he was there, green flames licking his face as he peered into the inner sanctum.
"Professor?" he asked looking around.
Dumbledore came into view dressed in a purple dressing gown, The Daily Prophet in his hands. He had a look of worry on his lined face.
"Remus, good morning," he answered, unsurprised by his sudden appearance. Even though Dumbledore had granted him access to his quarters via floo network a few years ago, Remus had rarely used it, preferring to rely on owl post for correspondence with his old headmaster.
"You've seen it," he said, nodding at the paper in Dumbledore's hands.
"Yes," he answered wearily. "I've just been deliberating on the best course of action."
"Can you help her?"
The professor looked at him as if searching for the right words. It was a look Remus was much too familiar with and it always made him suspect that Dumbledore was hiding something.
"I can try," he said, "but I'm not sure how successful I will be."
"Why?" Remus demanded. Dumbledore had rarely seemed so unsure of his abilities in the past.
"Celestia."
When Remus looked at him questioningly (though it was difficult to decipher through dancing green flames), he went on.
"I have a copy of Dahlia's will, giving me guardianship of her daughter, should anything happen to her mother, of course," he explained, "and seeing as Celestia is unable to perform that duty, I can invoke it."
"Are you?" he interrupted anxiously.
"I'm not sure it's the right course," he answered, still weary. "You see, if I do and she is charged with any infraction, I would have to excuse myself from the Wizengamot for her hearing."
"She didn't kill that boy!"
Dumbledore looked a bit surprised at Remus' words.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes," he answered firmly.
"Good," Dumbledore replied, "I agree."
"Then what can we do?" He needed to do something.
The headmaster looked at him, deliberating once more, oblivious to Remus' growing discomfort.
"I think," he began after a long silence, "since she will be seventeen in a week, it is best if I consult with her on the matter. I will pay her a visit in custody later today."
Before Remus could say anything, Dumbledore cut him off. "I think it's best if you leave it to me." He gave Remus a warm smile. "I know you want to help her but there is little you can do. I only hope I can do a bit more."
Remus knew what Dumbledore said was true. To even try to contact Kali would bring attention to him from the Ministry and besides, having a registered werewolf visit her would only make things worse. Still, he was annoyed by his lack of ability to help.
"Remus," Dumbledore called just before he pulled his head from the flames, "I promise you, I will do all I can."
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"Please state your name."
"Kali Meissa del Fuego."
The young man looked up from the long roll of parchment, his quill perched above the paper at the ready.
"Full name," he requested brusquely.
Kali looked briefly around the room. "That's it," she said, her eyes landing on the man in front of her.
The others at the table, two men and a woman, looked at each other knowingly. She knew they were fishing for information on her parentage.
"Mother?"
"Dahlia del Fuego."
"Father?"
"Nice try," she smirked.
"Miss del Fuego," the woman said, "we are simply trying to ascertain whether there is any living relative that can speak on your behalf." Her angular face gave her a stern look.
"I speak for myself," she answered firmly.
"Be that as it may, miss, but you are not of age," the man in the bowler hat addressed her impatiently.
"Give it a week," she replied smoothly, "it won't be an issue."
"We do not have a week," the oldest man said to her, "we are here now." He had the look of a lion, with yellowish eyes and hair like a mane, streaked with grey. Kali disliked him instantly.
"Look, Miss del Fuego," the woman said to her, softening, "we just want to know if you have any living relatives."
"None," she lied, pushing the fleeting thought of Sirius Black out of her mind.
"All right then," she said waving to the man in the center, "continue."
The young man, an assistant, began his interrogation once more.
"Can you tell us what happened the night of April 11th?" he asked in monotone, as if reading aloud.
"No."
Each pair of eyes were on her instantly. "Look here, miss," the man who Kali was sure was named Scrimgeour said loudly, "we have no time for your games!"
"Just answer the question, miss," the other man (who she recognized as Cornelius Fudge) said as he looked at the others.
"I can't," she said, looking directly at him as she replied. Scrimgeour, incensed by her answer didn't seem to notice Fudge squirm a little in his seat and began deliberating furiously with the woman.
Kali eyed the man as he absentmindedly fiddled with his bowler hat, beads of sweat forming on his temples. She had recognized him the minute he entered the room as a frequent guest to their home when her mother was alive. As she stared at him, making him very nervous, she was aware of the Auror standing by the door watching her with interest.
"Excuse me," the Auror interrupted. He was soft – spoken but his bass voice cut across the noise of the others, silencing them.
They looked at him expectantly.
"I believe what the young lady is trying to say," he said gesturing towards Kali, "is that she cannot tell you what happened because she has been cursed to silence on the matter."
"Exactly," she said in mock exasperation.
They looked at her once more.
"Who cursed you?" the woman asked. She was the only one who had introduced herself, as Amelia Bones from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
"Not sure."
"Well, it had to be one of them," Fudge said, chuckling nervously.
"Could have been one of them," she said cryptically, "could have been someone else."
"Was there someone else present at the time?" Bones asked.
"Can't say."
Scrimgeour eyed her suspiciously. "Trying to create doubt are you?" he said accusingly.
She didn't answer.
"Well," Fudge piped up, "it seems a waste of time to keep asking the girl questions, doesn't it?" He seemed anxious to get away.
They got up to deliberate in the next room, leaving Kali at the table, the tall, dark man watching her from his post at the door. They were silent for a while, as she went through all the scenarios in her mind. This could go many ways for her, and she wanted to be sure it didn't include adjoining cells with Celestia in Azkabahn.
Kali looked at the Auror with a calculated look of innocence. It seemed to work, as he approached the table gingerly.
"Can I get you something? Pumpkin juice, perhaps?"
"No, thanks," she replied in a small voice.
The Auror leaned on the table. "What can you tell me about the night of April 11th?" he asked, out of the blue.
Finally.
"I can tell you that Henri was not a guest in our home that night." She paused. "Nor was he expected. Or welcome."
The Auror looked at her shrewdly. "Why not?" he asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down.
She deliberated, trying to assess just what she should say next.
"Eight months ago in Paris," she answered, pausing for effect, "he tried to kill me."
"Why?" he asked evenly.
"I exposed him for who he really was to my grandmother." She waited for the next question.
"And who is he?" he prodded gently.
"He's an evil man," she said shaking her head, "a pervert, a coward…"
He face became unreadable.
"Did he," he hesitated, "try to…hurt you in any way, I mean,… before the incident in Paris?"
She looked down at the table. She could feel the Auror's intense gaze on her as they sat in silence, the question lingering in the air.
She looked up but avoided his eyes. "He tried to finish what he started that night," she finally answered then returned his gaze. "That's all I can tell you." It was stated with the perfect balance of hesitance and vulnerability.
"Thank you," he said. He got up and walked to the door. "I'll be right back."
He closed the door behind him and the perpetual hum of voices just outside the door ceased, the man's low murmur replacing them.
She smiled to herself. It had worked. She had never played the victim before but she was desperate. Besides, there was some truth in it; she only bent it a little here and there, omitted some things, emphasized others.
It's not really lying.
She'd never had qualms about manipulating the truth before. Sure, she had pangs of guilt every now and then, but her conscience rarely bothered her. She sat alone wondering why she felt this way, finally reasoning with herself that her years at Beauxbatons had made her soft and a year away from from the influence of friends (Olivier) had done little to toughen her up.
The thought of being on her own (which, it seemed, was very probable) filled her with dread, not only for herself but also for her grandmother. If Celestia were convicted, she would be alone in Azkabahn, and even though at times she hated her, Kali had to begrudgingly admit she loved her all the same.
As she sat mulling over their fate, Fudge entered the room, the Auror behind him.
"Miss del Fuego," he said, "you are free to go."
Caught off guard, it took her a minute to understand. She rose slowly, unable to voice the many questions flooding her mind and walked out of the room, ushered by Fudge, down a long corridor. She grew suspicious as they approached another door. When the Minister of Magic led her through, she asked, "Can I go home?"
"No, no," he answered hastily. "Your godfather is here for you."
Godfather?
Lucius Malfoy slunk out from the corner of the room and approached her. "Kali, dear, have you been treated well?"
She nodded a yes, trying to hide her surprise.
"Well of course, Lucius," the Minister said a little reproachfully, "I've seen to her myself."
"Thank you, Minister," Malfoy drawled, shaking Fudge's hand. He turned to Kali. "We should be getting on, dear, your aunty Narcissa has been worried sick about you."
She said nothing, trying to suppress a snicker, and followed him from the room. The Auror, looking grim, caught her eye. He quickly adjusted his features and gave her an earnest smile and a nod. She returned the gesture, smiling weakly, as she left the room.
Once outside the building and safely in an alley, Malfoy stopped and turned to her once more.
"How are you, really?" he asked. For a second she almost believed he was sincere.
"Confused," she said, "and apparently losing my memory, because I don't remember having godparents."
"Yes, well, I can be very persuasive." He rattled his robe pockets, which made a distinctive chinking sound.
"So I take it Narcissa isn't waiting for me with bated breath?" she asked sarcastically.
"On the contrary," he responded, "she is expecting us very soon."
She looked at him doubtfully.
"You have a better place to go?" he asked silkily, raising his eyebrows. When she didn't answer he offered her his arm.
"Shall we?"
As she locked her arm reluctantly with his, preparing to Disapparate, a single thought entered her mind.
Oh Merlin, this can't be good.
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No, this can't be good.
Sirius Black listened intently from the darkness of his cell, high atop the towering structure that was Azkabahn. He looked out the small barred window and watched the sunset. Trying hard to block out his surroundings, he concentrated on the sky as the moon became visible, glimmering weakly at first, and then growing brighter in the darkening sky. He could see the reflection in the icy waters of the North Sea, which surrounded the prison on all sides. He didn't know how many nights he'd watched the moon in the sky, how long he'd been sitting in his dark, damp cell, wasting away. As clouds passed over, depriving him briefly of his only solace, the silencing spell he hadn't realized he'd cast, was broken. The familiar moans of dying prisoners reached him through the thick, stone walls and he sensed the excitement coming off the Dementors, which usually signaled another prisoner was about to perish.
Tonight, though was different. The ominous feeling created by the ghastly guards was infused with something more. Sirius knew it could only mean one thing.
Fresh meat.
Sirius heard the familiar scraping of metal and turned towards the prison cell bars. A small delegation of Ministry members shuffled past.
"Oi!" he called to the last one, a young man who looked barely out of school. The man stopped and looked at him uncertainly, fear in his eyes. "What's going on?" he asked in a hoarse voice that startled him.
Is that what I sound like?
"Uh," the young man hesitated, backing away slightly as Sirius approached the bars.
A tall man with keen yellow eyes stepped in front of him. Sirius recognized him but couldn't remember his name.
"You'll be getting a new neighbour soon, Black," he said, a nasty edge to his voice.
"What'd he do?" he asked, though he really didn't care. This was the first time in many moons he had spoken to another human being.
The man, looking severe, grimaced, obviously affronted by Sirius' casual address. Despite this, he answered. "He's a killer – just like you."
Sirius felt nothing at being called what he knew he wasn't. Not yet, anyway.
"You probably know his partner – in – crime," the man added, making Sirius curious.
"Who is it?" Something told him he needed to know.
"Celestia del Fuego." The man from the Ministry scowled. "It's just too bad she escaped," he added. "The Dark Lord's two most loyal followers reunited for the rest of their miserable lives," he mocked, "would have been quite a reunion."
The man, looking satisfied, turned away and left. Sirius walked back to the window and looked up at the sky once more. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the image of a beautiful girl came to him; a girl with dark, flowing hair, a stunning smile and eyes that made him weak at the knees.
Dahlia.
As memories came back to him, he felt the comfort of them slowly fading and he knew the Dementors had sensed them. He quickly pushed all thoughts of Dahlia out of his mind as an unnatural chill swept over him. He fought in vain as a feeling of despair pushed its way back in. Dark clouds rolled over the starlight sky, extinguishing all light and in the darkness of his cell, feeling weak and alone, he shivered.
Miles away, in the heart of London, as Kali lay sleeping in the guest bedroom of Malfoy Manor, a sudden shiver wracked her body and woke her from a strange, vivid dream.
Dahlia.
I'm all excited to finally be able to write in my favourite puppy's POV. Hopefully you liked it too. Let me know. A few words and a purple button are all it takes.
Just a note: Did anyone catch the meaning of Kali's full name? (Yes, it means something).
I took Scrimgeour's description from HPB (I mean, how else can you describe yellow eyes?) Also, the title of this chappie is taken from Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest - "truth is rarely pure and never simple." And now you know the title of the next chapter.
Coming Soon: Chapter 13 (tentatively titled) Never Simple - in which we leap ahead two years to a prison escape, a family reunion and yet more truths revealed.
See ya soon!