Chapter 5: The Key

Celine,

I'm glad I've piqued your interest.

I'm not surprised about Hermione in all honesty. Dear Ronniekins has started sending letters more often. Would you like to take a guess at what the contents of his letters are?
Hermione.
You're not the only one who feels as if she's hiding something. Have you asked her flat out? Isn't there some sort of girl code that entitles you to some sort of best friend confidentiality?

Anyway, I hope this letter reaches you in time before the masquerade ball.
Perhaps this is McGonagall's way of starting over after the War.

As I recall from your previous letter you mentioned an interest in Potions.
Well as it so happens we do need an extra set of hands around the shop if you are interested. How about interning over Christmas holidays? Not to be presumptuous but since you didn't mention anything about your Father returning from court I take it you will be spending Christmas at The Burrow.

You'll have full reign of the potions room including the expense account for ingredients. I was looking into expanding our the sweet collection (since there hasn't been anything new since the Skiving Snackboxes).

I digress I hope the elixirs you've been taking are working well for you. The shop has had my hands rather full and I must admit there are nights when I accidentally forget to drink mine. As you can imagine, those nights are the worst. Mum has been nagging me to hire somebody new. Verity can't make it during weekends. I don't know. It's not really a difficult decision to make. It's just the idea of having someone in place of…

Anyway it would certainly help if you could be the person to help out around the shop.

In regards to Salazar and Godric's failed friendship… Apparently they had more than a friendship. Note the subtext. I'm sure a smart girl like you can connect the dots.

Maybe that could be a topic to ask Salazar or Godric the next time he annoys you. I'm certain that would shut him up immediately.

I hope you enjoy yourself tonight. Write me all the details.

Eagerly waiting your reply,
George

Celine studied herself in the mirror scrutinizing her black sweet heart cut chiffon dress for any stray cat hair on it. The flickering flames from the bathroom's wrought-iron chandelier reflected off the indigo, turquoise, plum, gold and silver sequins which formed peacock feathers down the bodice. The black satin ties of her lace-up corset were emphasized by the pale cream color of her shoulders.

In a moment of heated rage, Celine had hacked off the navy dip dye from the tips of her hair leaving nothing but ebony color behind. It now sat in a low side ponytail held by a diamanté dragonfly beret, the freshly cut tips magicked into curls that barely touched her elbows.

The elegant gold heels on her feet leant an extra four inches to her height causing her to stagger when a sharp rustle broke her concentration. Her fingers poised above her wand breaths coming in uneven rasps. Every noise had her on edge convinced that it was Draco barging into her room-…

And do what Celine? Rape you? This isn't some trashy romance novel set in medieval times. There are consequences to actions… You've taken on an army of Death Eaters before. You can handle Draco.

But what about you walking in on his private moment, should he not get justice?

Realizing it was just Rascal sniffing the letter from George still half unfurled on her desk she returned to the task at hand exhaling deeply.

"Haereo." Celine tapped her wand to her temple creating a magical adhesive allowing her to wear her open crafted metal mask without the aid of conventional ribbons. The upper left of her face was covered under elaborate wrought details forming an archangel's wing; vines that cut diagonally supported the crystal chains forming the right side of her mask.

Her fingers were working on autopilot, applying the final coat of cherry lipstick on her lips her mind preoccupied with the impending night. Professor McGonagall had given an exact run through this morning: Draco and Celine were expected to sit at the high table with the school board and the faculty. Five minutes before the clock tower chimes midnight Professor McGonagall will call everyone's attention for the mask unveiling.

Celine was in the Entrance Hall by the last chime of the clock marking the designated time she agreed to meet Hermione. She hadn't expected the large turnout proving her task harder than intended.

"Miss Van Allen, there you are. Dinner is beginning momentarily why aren't you seated at the table?" Professor McGonagall found her standing at the top of the staircase, surveying the beautifully dressed student body hoping to spot her friend dressed in scarlet. "Hurry, we're not starting a minute later. You and Mr. Malfoy are also going to be opening the ball."

"I'm sorry…?" But her question was left hanging as she entered the Great Hall.

Sure she'd been working with the rest of the prefects and staff all day on the decorations, but there was nothing like seeing it at its full effect.
With the sun gone and the floating candles replaced with jack-o-lanterns, their cut-out faces were the only source of light. Couples held hands, leading their partners to the round dining tables scattered throughout the hall. A polished and platform designated for dancing was placed right in front of the high table where the staff normally sat. To the left beside the entrance to the trophy room is another raised platform where elegantly dressed goblins fussed around instruments twice sometimes four times their size. Thick silk wreaths of spider webs hung from the sconces holding flaming torches with blue flames.
The long head table was draped in tablecloth the color of black ink with citrus trimming. The table itself held an assortment of bowls carved to look like skulls, filled to bursting point with candies from Honeydukes. The surrounding round tables were decorated similarly but with the colors reversed.

She found Professor Flitwick in front of her, the top of his slicked hair barely reaching her mid rift.

"Miss Van Allen you are looking splendid, step this way your table is here. I'm assuming Professor McGonagall told you that you and Mr. Malfoy are opening the ball right after dinner."

That got her attention again. "I…wasn't aware that we had to open the ball."

"Oh." Professor Flitwick paused, stroking his chin. "Well you are and it's quite easy really. You attended the Yule Ball didn't you? The champions had to open the ball?"

Celine remembered dancing with Fred for the first time. Even though he'd crush her by asking Angelina to the Ball instead, she'd found him staring at her from across the dance floor. She'd gone with another Ravenclaw boy. Jared? Jeremy?
She couldn't remember it had been a last minute affair. As it is, halfway through he abandoned her to dance with other Beauxbaton girls and she'd found herself sitting by Harry and Ron. Ron hadn't even noticed that his elder brother was asking his best friend to dance, his thoughts were caught up in the revelation that Hermione had attended the ball with Krum. That was really when Celine suspected Ron of his true feelings for Hermione.

"Miss Van Allen?" Professor Flitwick eyed her from behind his spectacles.

"I'll…do my best." Celine offered a smile.

"Nervous?"

"A little."

Draco smirked, "Don't be." He offered her his hand. Dressed in a handsome brocade frock coat the color of pine trees, it brought out the steel blue flecks in his eyes that Celine hadn't noticed before. His palm which she'd somehow expected to be cold was warm and assured.

"Follow my lead." His breath tickled her ear. In such close proximity Celine realized that his masquerade mask was meant to resemble a Roman soldier's helmet.

It was a slow waltz.

His fingers entwined with hers, she could feel the soft pressure of his other hand on the small of her back. She could also feel the eyes of the entire room.

"You're stiffening up, Celine. Stop it."

"Sorry. I'm not used to this."

"Don't apologize just make sure we get out of this without looking like uncoordinated baboons, will you?"

He spun her suddenly causing her dress to flare around her in a beautiful circle of chiffon. She found herself crushed against his chest, feeling it rising up and down beneath her palms.

By the time Celine felt like she was getting the hang of it, other couples had started to make their way to the dance floor. When Draco dipped her both arms wound tight around her body, she felt oddly safe and protected. Catching a glimpse of Pansy's upside-down dour expression Celine was brought back to reality.

The smile wavered on her lips which Draco noticed.

"Not enjoying this?" He asked.

"How can I when your girlfriend is plotting my murder a few feet away?"

Draco chuckled. "She's not my girlfriend. That's always been Father's arrangement…"

"I'm sorry." Celine said after an uncomfortable beat.

He eyed her. "For what, exactly?"

"Your Father…clearly a touchy subject. I didn't mean to…I know I wouldn't want to talk about-…"

"He meant a lot to you, didn't he?"

Celine opened and closed her mouth several times. She didn't know how to reply him. How could she even begin to explain?

"You don't have to answer that." Draco said quickly. "I didn't mean to pry Father always complained my questions would get me killed one day. It did. In a way."

She raised her eyes to meet his. In that moment she was strangely aware that her life wasn't the only one that was changed because of Voldemort. If anyone, it would have been Draco.
What would've been like if he hadn't been raised by power-hungry Lucius?
His mother seemed like a nice woman herself, albeit snobby but she had been born with it.
Just as Celine had been.
Celine cringed at the recollections of her youth.
If it hadn't been for her mother's death, she probably would've been just another pretty Beauxbaton girl thinking that her life revolved around aimless parties and tea at the French court.

The song ended. Partners stepped away from each other, clapping for the band. Before Celine could get another word in Pansy flounced forwards in an elegant jade dress stepping in front of her, "I think I'll be taking the next dance."

Celine stepped aside momentarily annoyed.
Why though?
Draco was allowed to dance with whomever he pleased.

"That's always been Father's arrangement." His words echoed in her mind watching the Draco and Pansy dance their way to the middle of the dance floor.
She was also going to pretend that Draco hadn't entirely snubbed her feelings.
Why did she care?

Shimmering mist accompanied by the faint sound of metal chains clanking caught Celine's attention.

"Celine, where are you going? The ball just started…" A voice said from behind her.

"Father?" Celine's eyes widened seeing the older gentlemen wearing dark green dress robes with a high collar and ebony cravat. His eyes were unmistakable behind the doctor's mask with its bejeweled hooked nose. "Father, what are you doing here? I thought you were at the palace?"

Hugging his daughter, Marc Van Allen, tried to ignore just how much Celine looked like Helena. Except for her eyes, she had inherited his striking lavender irises.
"Yes, well I was and then I received your letter about Professor Slughorn—"

"Oh well he was just curious, I don't think he ever intends to purchase it—"

"Guard that key with your life, Celine." Marc said in a low tone. Celine blinked. She didn't think she'd ever heard her Father's voice with that much worry since the days of Voldemort.

"Are you okay? Did something happen? It's Voldemort isn't it?" Celine asked, casting a Muffliato charm. No one was any wiser.

Marc glanced around and took his daughter away from the dance floor. "No. Thankfully it's not. He's as good as dead. It's you I'm worried about. During the renovations at Hogwarts, some artifacts turned up including Rowena Ravenclaw's will. It's been in the hands of the school board ever since."

"Father, that's great news! But I'm confused, what does that have anything to do—"

"Patience mon cher, the key. It was listed among her items that were to be bequeathed to Helena's heirs."

"But Helena never had a next of kin…the Ravenclaws died out." She shook her head.

"That's what I thought so too but Marie's been cleaning the library at chateaux—"

"d'Amboise?" Celine asked eyes large.

"I know. I shouldn't have done it." Marc said. "I'm buying it back but the owners were not pleased—"

"We're the original owners! Father our family fought it from the King's hands, I'll fight for it—"

Marc laughed. The spark in her was another one of Helena's traits. "You don't have to fight for anything, they accepted the monetary offer I made. But there were some letters that Marie unearthed and they'd been to…your mother."

"What did they say?" Celine forced herself to ignore the strain she heard in his voice. He was still mourning her.

Marc shook his head. "She was interested in genealogy, her side of the family especially since she never knew much about them. Whoever she was corresponding with signed their initials as BB."

"What did the letters say?"

"That's why I had to come to Hogwarts. They were stolen en route back to the chateaux."

"You didn't read them?" Celine asked.

"I haven't had the time you know your Mother and her fondness for writing in Latin." Marc replied sighing. "All I remember was a family crest."

"Family crest?" Celine gasped. "All this while I thought it was a symbol like the Hallows."

Marc laughed. "No. I'm still trying to track down the family but it's the same as the one on the key, I'm certain. Do you have with you?"

"No, it's upstairs in my room."

"Keep it safe. The missing letters are making me uneasy. There shouldn't be a reason anyone would want them."

"How did you know they were stolen? Couldn't the owl just have lost—"

"I didn't send it with an owl. My assistant was attacked. That's why I needed to get here and make sure you were alright. Before the thief makes a connection between the key and Rowena Ravenclaw's will."

"Hang on, do you mean to tell me…it was her key?" Celine asked.

"Yes, cheri, I thought you would've figured that out."

"But we're not next of kin!" Celine put a hand over her mouth as the pieces began to fit. "Father, you don't think that's what Mama was researching?"

"I think it'll be wrong to think otherwise."

"I've got to find the Bloody Baron, he must know something." Celine said but his firm grip on her wrist made her stay put.

"No. Enough talk about the past. I haven't seen you in nearly three months, how are you?" Marc asked, hands on her shoulders. "I'm so busy with the royal family I barely see my own daughter grow up. Dance with me."

Celine laughed as she watched him start a fox trot, grabbing Professor McGonagall's arm. She'd miss him and after the loneliness that Fred's death presented, it was a relief whenever she could genuinely laugh.

Her head jerked up, catching sight of a broad shouldered red-hair standing in the crowd but reminded herself firmly that he couldn't possibly be there.

Celine had waited.
She'd sat and wept in the crumbled corridor, praying to whatever God that controlled the Universe to release Fred into the ghost realm. She couldn't lose him.
He never came back.
"It is only those who fear death that come back." Nearly Headless Nick had once remarked, finding Celine in a heap on the castle floor.

Shaking her head to clear the creeping memory, she noticed that the red-haired figure was gone. Whoever it was, it wasn't Fred.

"Celine?" Marc called over the fast paced music. He'd already gathered half the staff including Professor Sprout and Professor Slughorn in a line. "Join the fun, won't you?"