Chapter 8: The Shadows
She woke with butterfly feelings in her stomach. Familiar, fluttery…a small smile traced on her lips. Hunting horcruxes hadn't given any time to for leisurely competition.
After grueling weeks of training through heavy rain and cold wind, Celine was hoping that the Quidditch match would help Ginny blow off steam. Maybe then she could finally ask her about Luna.
Entering the Great Hall she located Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione at one of the tables.
"Hey…why does everyone look…tensed? I know it's Quidditch but it's not like we haven't gone against Slytherin before." Celine said, seating herself next to Hermione.
"It's not just…that…" Hermione began but Ginny quickly cut her off.
"How are you feeling? You think we're going to win this one?"
"You've had us training through storms, Gin, I think we'll be fine. Now what's wrong?" Celine eyed them. "I feel as if you guys are keeping something from me."
"It's….your dad. He was in the Daily Prophet. He's alright!" Harry added hastily. "It's just there's been a break in. Someone tried to break into his office at the royal court."
Grabbing the Daily Prophet out of Ron's hands, Celine scanned the article while Hermione cleaned up the cup of tea she had accidentally upset in reaching the newspaper.
"It didn't say he was hurt. Or that anything was taken. It could have just been a random coincidence." Harry continued.
Folding the newspaper close, Celine untied her hair raking her fingers through it.
"Nothing is a coincidence." She murmured.
"Oh c'mon Celine, you can't let something like that get in your head. Not today of all days." Ginny said. Raising her eyes to meet her captain's she nodded, exhaling softly. "Maybe not. You're right. I could just be overreacting. Papa's not hurt. People try to break into Buckingham Palace all the time. This time they succeeded."
An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as Celine tried her best to refocus her thoughts on the Quidditch match, fighting all desire to rush back to the tower and demand a Floo-conference with Marc from the International Allegiance Ministry officials.
"Celine?" Hermione eventually said.
"Yeah?"
"Won't you eat something?"
She shook her head, pushing her plate away. "I'm not hungry. We should go. The match will start soon."
"We've got an hour before we have to be at the pitch." Ron reminded her.
"I'm not hungry." Celine echoed, shouldering her broom and climbing out of her seat.
Why would someone break into his office and not steal anything? That doesn't make any sense. Were they intending to rob another office and got Papa's by mistake? But why report it in the Daily Prophet if-
PFFFT!
Celine's breath got knocked out of her chest as the speeding Quaffle slipped past her outstretched fingers, hitting her hard in the chest. A dull throb started in her sternum making it feel as if her lungs had given up.
"CELINE GET IT TOGETHER!" Ginny shrieked overhead, a whirl of aureate and auburn on a broomstick. Celine thought she could see the anger on her captain's face.
It's only been five minutes into the game, the crowd in the stands a divided mass of red and green with a few black smatterings for those who were neutral. The excitement and tension ran thick in the air, last year when the Carrows had been in charge, Quidditch tournaments were a thing of the past. Now that they got it back, everyone was intent on savoring each high-strung moment. The air smelt of grass and buttered popcorn whenever Celine flew over the stands.
Celine threw the Quaffle just as a Slytherin player collided into her. A flash of azure eyes.
Edmund.
Fortunately the throw occurred seconds after which meant that Demelza had safely received the Quaffle and was currently soaring towards the goalposts. Celine flew higher, intending to cover another section of the pitch if the Slytherin Keeper managed to block Demelza's throw. An odd sensation traveled through her fingers clasped around the broom handle and instead of following Celine's instructions her broomstick started to climb higher.
"No, this isn't where I want to go." Celine's hands tightened around her broom handle, urging it to fly lower but it was useless. The pitch was starting to look miniaturized when her broom started violently swaying from left to right as if trying to upend her. A queasy feeling started in her stomach as her hair flicked in her face, obscuring Celine's vision.
Without any warning, the broom started to dive gaining speed with each passing second. It was as if all her internal organs had left her body and Celine felt the certainty of doom fill her up. She needed to do something or she was going to go headfirst into the ground...but what? Her broom had gone rouge.
WHACK!
The last thing she saw was green.
Rubble everywhere. Dust. Panic and adrenaline coursed through her veins and her heart pounded erratically. The castle's stone walls were streaked with something dark and oily.
Her legs were taking her down twisting corridors that were horribly familiar.
"Fred!" Her voice echoed down the darkened corridor. She grappled for her wand muttering 'Lumos'. The light shone on a figure already on the ground, his face hidden behind a curtain of ginger hair. Her legs buckled, pain shot up her kneecaps as her lungs caved in.
"Fred…"
It hurt to talk. Her voice sounded like sandpaper grating against splintery wood. Sweat soaked t-shirt stuck to her back and her hair felt heavy and greasy. A red-headed figure sat on an armchair a few feet away from her bedside slumped into his own chest. Squinting, her heart started to race.
"Fred?" Celine croaked trying to sit up but the terrible throb at the back of her head instantly made the world spin.
Startled the figure leaned forward, reaching for her hand. "No...I...It's George."
Celine closed her eyes, head sinking into the pillow. "What...happened?"
"You're in the Hospital Wing. You got hit with a Bludger to the back of the head. What happened out there, Celine? One moment you were diving, the next, you were knocked off your broom by the Bludger. Malfoy caught you before you hit the ground. Good thing apparently, at least according to Madam Pomfrey. You would've been a lot worse with broken bones as well. Did you lose control of your broom?"
"-water…" Celine winced. In her mind's eye she saw the whites of her knuckles around the broom handle and the ground rushing upwards to embrace her. Flashes of green. "What time...is it?"
Struggling to sit up to reach for the water jug on the bedside table. George hastened forwards, pouring her a glass and helping her drink.
"Dinner...Harry, Hermione and Ron should be here any minute. The entire team came to see you while you were still under but Madam Pomfrey herded them out."
"What are you...What are you doing here?"
"I came to watch the match." George stroked the back of her left hand. His thumb felt warm against her skin. "I wasn't going to miss Gryffindor give Slytherin a thrashing."
Her eyes widened slightly, gripping his hand. "Did we...win?"
The crestfallen look on George's face was all Celine needed. Groaning she slumped further into her pillow but her head started to throb at the slightest pressure against the back of her skull. Sounds of curtains swishing back brought her attention to the matronly woman carrying a tray with a foul looking chartreuse liquid in a plastic goblet.
"Miss Van Allen, glad to see you're up. How is your head feeling?" Madam Pomfrey asked setting the tray down on the bedside table.
"Sensitive."
"I imagine so. That was a nasty fall, would have been much worse if Mr. Malfoy hadn't been there according to Professor McGonagall." Madam Pomfrey handed her the goblet. The stem felt cool in Celine's hands. "This will help to shrink the swelling and lessen the pain. Mr. Weasley, visiting hours are almost over. I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Miss Van Allen needs to get her rest."
"Oh please don't-" Celine began at the same time George hastily stood up saying, "Time must've gotten away from me Madam Pomfrey-..."
Celine met George's gaze and a hollow feeling encapsulated her. She'd never been fond of hospitals, not even the school's hospital wing that she must've have been in a handful of times prior. But never overnight.
"I must insist, Miss Van Allen, you need your rest." Madam Pomfrey eventually said looking between the two.
"I'll see you tomorrow." George said glancing at Celine.
Nodding slowly she watched as George seemed to hesitate by the foot of her bed before exiting the Hospital Wing.
"Drink up the potion, Miss Van Allen. It'll help you sleep." Madam Pomfrey advised as she closed the curtain around her bed.
Celine sighed heavily trying to shake off the dread that settled across her shoulders as Madam Pomfrey's footsteps faded away. Stretching out her fingers she patted the empty spot on the bed where Rascal would normally occupy in the Tower. She missed the feel of his warm body against her. Pulling the sheets gingerly up around her chin, she wondered if there was another person in the Hospital Wing with her but was powerless to check. Every tiny movement sent waves of nausea that made her clutch at her sweaty forehead. Her body felt constrained in her clothes and it was suddenly so warm that pools of sweat started to gather under her arms. Taking a deep breath she drank the chartreuse liquid her tongue instantly rearing up hitting the roof of her mouth as the bitter taste soaked her taste buds. The last thing she remembered was staring at the shadows dancing across the pale green curtains surrounding her bed.
When she opened her eyes next the fire from the torches had gone out. Mosaic shadows cut across the curtains and as Celine's vision focused she thought she heard the metallic swish of metal chains.
Footsteps. But they seemed to be retreating. Madam Pomfrey?
Celine saw the clear goblet on the nightstand was refilled with the bitter tasting potion. Maybe she was supposed to take it twice?
Her head did feel much better and the motion sickness wasn't as severe.
A cold hand – it had to be – grabbed her by the wrist and forced the goblet out of her hand.
Orange-yellow light flickered on as Madam Pomfrey arrived at her bedside in a matter of minutes.
"Miss Van Allen are you alright?" Madam Pomfrey gasped finally catching sight of the shattered glass on the floor.
"Is that the De-Swelling Potion I gave earlier? I instructed you to drink it before bed, Miss Van Allen."
"I-…I did. Immediately after you left. This was on the nightstand…I thought you came in…" Celine's senses latched onto a maddeningly familiar scent beginning to waft from the solution on the floor.
"There has to be a mistake. You aren't required to take a second dose until tomorrow at lunch."
"Asphodel." Celine murmured remembering the dried flowers in Professor Slughorn's personal potion ingredients cabinet. Only small doses were needed at a time. For the scent to be this strong, it had to be much more than a single drop or two.
It felt like something cold and slimy had slid down her throat. High doses meant death.
"I think someone…is trying to kill me." She eventually said.
"Are you sure it was asphodel?" Ron asked. Celine sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Yes Ron, just like I told Professor McGonagall, I am absolutely positive it was asphodel juice. I'd know the smell."
There was a tiny dose in her elixirs after all.
"Who'd want you dead?" Harry continued. They were making their way to Potions.
"The thing with Papa…that couldn't be a coincidence, right? There has to be a…connection." Celine said.
"But they took nothing." Hermione reminded.
"That's what the Aurors say because they haven't found anything yet." Celine interjected. Hermione rolled her eyes. "I think you've got to trust what the Minister of Law Enforcement deems fit to do."
"Do you know what made you do it?" Harry interrupted before Celine could say the sarcastic remark on the tip of her tongue.
She shrugged not wanting to divulge her suspicions just yet. It felt like a fairytale for some reason. Like if she said it out loud it would be jinxed and turn out wrong.
"Celine dear if you would kindly move your things over to the desk where Edmund is currently seating, please." Professor Slughorn said as soon as Celine placed her messenger bag on her usual stool.
"I'm sorry?"
"Yes, well, Edmund came to me just the other day confessing his worries about passing his NEWTs in Potions that I thought to myself…Why not have my best potioneer in the year working together at the same bench?" He grinned.
"Oh…Okay." Celine tied her hair into a ponytail, throwing a glance at Hermione. A look of equal shock was painted on her face. Celine had been eager to have a whispered conversation with her about her Bloody Baron suspicions. She did hear the chains. There was something else too…
As if on cue Celine's senses picked up on the all too familiar scent.
Teakwood.
"Celine?" Edmund stared at her inquiringly. She could hear him, barely, there was just something…someone behind his shoulder.
"Fred?" Her voice barely a whisper.
Edmund followed her gaze, his eyebrows wrinkled. "Celine, there's no one there."
"No one…You're right. No one." She continued unconvincingly still staring at the spot where the ginger figure had appeared.
It was hard to concentrate that day. Every other minute Celine would feel as if someone was watching her. Whenever she glanced at Edmund's bench he seemed perfectly immersed with preparing his Draught of the Living Death.
"You're putting in too much." Celine caught his wrist before Edmund poured in more wormwood infusion. Once when she was explaining short cuts that would yield more results, Celine looked up to find his face only a couple of inches away.
Bright blue eyes.
Clear eyes.
Celine jerked back as if something had bit her, banging into her stool causing the contents of her schoolbag to spill across the dungeon floor.
"Damn it."
"Here let me help." Edmund dove to the ground too.
She could smell it again.
Teakwood.
"Here you are." Edmund handed her a stack of papers and the Forget-Me-Not Elixir.
"Thanks." Celine uncorked it, immediately taking a swig. "Is that the bell already? Great. See you next lesson, Edmund."
"Do you think you could help me with the Polyjuice Potion essay? Maybe meet during study hour?"
Celine hesitated. A glance towards Professor Slughorn.
"Yeah okay. See you at the next one then."
There was no reasoning for what happened the next week. It always started with his scent. Teakwood.
"Fred, we've lost them! The others!"
Celine's heart rate felt like it was in a marathon. Cold sweat trickled down her back.
"What?! How?!"
"I don't know! They were right behind me. Fred we've got to go back."
Malicious laughter danced in the night sky. Stars obscured by the smoke and fear.
"It's too dangerous."
"Fred.."
"No! I can't…can't risk it."
Celine wasn't sure what happened next. Had they just shared something more in that three seconds their eyes met…or was it just the choking heat from the burning trees, the smell of singed hair and melting plastic, playing tricks on her?
"We've got to keep moving." George led Celine by the elbow, breaking their eye contact.
Fred didn't look at her again she knew that having stolen a couple of glances.
This isn't the time. They were running.
A flash of green in the sky. The screaming intensified around them.
"What's that? In the sky." Ginny's voice cracked with a tremble.
The sound of chains brought Celine back to reality. In the foreground, just a few feet ahead a silver shimmer caught her eyes.
Celine quickened her steps. It looked like the Baron was heading towards the dungeons again.
"Stop." Celine called, her voice echoing off the stone walls.
What little light illuminating the corridor went out. Celine's breathing quickened.
"I need to know." Celine said. "Please. You knew that was poison in the goblet. You need to tell me why."
"I don't owe yeh anything." His voice made the fine hairs on the back of her neck and arms stand up.
"You obviously cared about Helena. She is somehow linked to this. Helping me would help her." Celine argued. The cold was beginning to sting her eyes.
"I didn't see who did it."
Celine turned around, swallowing the gasp that threatened to spill from her lips. She wasn't sure if there would ever be a time when she will be comfortable around the Baron. There weren't any discernible eyeballs just a deep darkness that Celine felt could penetrate her soul.
"He ran before I could tell who he was."
"It was a boy then?"
"Aye, a lad. Student. Couldn't see which house."
"How did you know it was poison?"
"Lassie, if someone is sneaking around yeh while yer sleeping best believe they don't mean well."
Celine tried not to fixate on the blood streaks smeared from his eye sockets down his emaciated cheeks.
"What is this key? The last time we spoke…please don't…I need your help. My father's office was broken into. I'm almost certain it was because of this." Celine said.
"It'd been buried with her." The bloody Baron said. The soft clinks of his chains sounded hypnotizing combined with the darkness and cold glow coming from the ghost.
"So how'd it come to my family?"
"A question I've been asking meself." He said.
A pregnant pause.
Celine studied the shackles around his wrists, the blood that was on his breeches.
Oh.
Celine looked away before the Baron noticed her gaze.
"It had been for her-…"
"Helena?"
"Yes. She wanted a place of her own. It isn't easy, she'd tell yeh, being one of the founder's daughters. People always poking around and asking questions. High expectations on the poor lass." There was a rumble in his throat. His voice had taken a softer tone. "Of course she liked the library. No one is allowed to talk. No one there to bother her. So that's where I built it. A study room just for her. My mistake was telling Rowena about it."
Another layer to his voice now: venom.
"Why did you tell her?" Celine asked.
"I'm not the evil man the others make me to be. I wanted permission for making a secret addition to the school. Why wouldn't I ask her? She's her mother. I thought I was doing the right thing."
His last sentence was said with bitterness.
"Years before I was done. She finished Hogwarts but Helena…she's stuck here since Rowena lived here. Purple had been her favorite color. We spent a bit of time together. She always said-…"
Something fell from the steps below Celine.
"Who's there?" She asked automatically reaching for her wand. "Lumos."
No one there.
When Celine turned around the Baron was gone too.
"Oh for Morgana's sake."
Celine,
I'm really happy that you'll beat the Burrow over holidays. Wasn't sure what to expect since the nasty situation with your Dad but he's right. No sense in putting you in danger if he is indeed the targeted victim. I was wondering if you'd like to stay with me for a couple of days after Christmas?
Before you go back to school.
It'll be the perfect opportunity for you to see what I have planned for the joke shop by hiring an on-site potioneer.
Hope to hear from you soon,
George.
P/s: Funnily enough Ron has been asking around about running the joke shop too. I always figured he'd end up working in the Ministry with Harry.