Beta: lil'hawkeye3 - let's all thank the ability of someone making miracles
Happy Monday if that exists
Cedrella Black could barely conceal her disgust with the man in front of her. Logically, she knew that Caesarus Malfoy was dreamy – more than most of the members of his family, actually, which was quite a feat by itself – with large pectorals, an incredibly angular face, short snow-white hair, long, dark lashes and deep, penetrating blue eyes. But he couldn't be compared to her Timmy.
She winced again as the man ignored her completely in his talk with Caligula Carrow, a young man who had recently wed Iuna Burke and was living off of his older wife's dowry. Cedrella shifted uncomfortably at his side – the woman was a ballroom fanatical, and she hated dancing. The younger witch had asked her about fashion after that – after all, most witches at parties were well-versed in the matter; the only part of a ball that she could enjoy were the robes and the alcohol.
The woman responded that she had no idea what was the difference between silk and taffeta and quite rudely told her that she had a seamstress to take care of this for her. And then, Cedrella had asked for some butterbeer – they were at the Three Broomsticks, after all – and the woman had sneered. In a last attempt, she had asked the woman her opinion of arithmancy when both of them saw the advertisement of a Naming Seer's services at the Witch Weekly.
The woman had the nerve to think that any kind of divination was a preference for silly girls whose naivety would lead them to death – and that she would never have children in order to deal with a girl like her. How couldn't someone wish for children?
Cedrella had looked up at her fiancée, who at the time should have noticed the discussion and stopped it. To her bewilderment, the man didn't seem to have heard a word at least for some moments, until a shade of a smirk graced his lips and Cedrella understood that she would find no help there.
Deciding that it was enough and preparing herself for an elegant leave, Cedrella tried to free her arm only to have Malfoy's grip on it harden – preventing her of leaving. She did nothing to hide her glare at him and finally Carrow and his spouse – or Burke and her lapdog – left. He looked at the matron and requested a private room for a while. The woman quickly summoned a key to him.
Malfoy pushed Cedrella inside it. "Oh there, feisty Black. A good blow on your pride, wasn't it? Yes, thanks Merlin. I will have to take sweet Iuna for that later." He taunted, patting her on her back in a patronizing manner. Cedrella quickly freed herself from his arms, rushing to the opposite side of the room – as far as possible from him. "I wasn't enduring a bratty bitch kicking around. Now, come here."
She obviously refused, taking her wand and pointing at him. "In Morgana name, can you please stop being that ridiculous?" The man sneered again. "Carpe Recractum." He chanted, and a rope made of darkness boomed of his wand, wrapping itself around her and pulling her close.
The rope pulled her chin up and he pushed his lips onto hers forcibly, shoving his tongue into her mouth as she attempted to free herself. Cedrella tried to breathe and squirm away, but his nails dug into her shoulder's skin, keeping her in place. She finally was able to clench her teeth and bit the uninvited intrusion at her mouth while jumping backwards at the same time.
She cast a hex Miranda Ghoshawk had taught her in her first year that turned the target's bogey into large black bats. She was almost positive that the man deflected it, but didn't look behind to see the results. She was much too focused on slipping away.
Preventing the urge to puke rising in her throat, Cedrella spat at the ground, trying to get his saliva out of her mouth. The nerve that man had! She refused to stand in his presence from now on, much less marry him.
Outside of Three Broomsticks, every student above second-year was shopping in the village. She watched as Timmy left Honeydukes with a large bag of sweets, an ice mice hanging from his mouth; she beamed at him, running to his side and holding her hand out palm-up.
He handed her a box of chocolate cauldrons and two exploding bonbons. She grinned at him; oh, he knew her so well. "So…should I be worried over losing you?" He had inquired good-naturely, watching in amusement as she moaned when the chocolate bonbon exploded deliciously on her mouth.
"In no way, Timmy. At least now." She said, with a grimace at the end. Her father was a stubborn man, and he wasn't very easy to convince – although she was trying. Absent-minded, she massaged her shoulder. Ouch. She better get something for it from the Hospital Wing when she returned.
Her ginger boyfriend followed her movements, noticing the pained expression on his girlfriend's face. Gently, he removed her hand from the spot and pushed her sleeve back a bit, taking a look at the purpling bruise on the witch's shoulder. His sky blue eyes darkened in unspoken, but not invisible, fury.
"Malfoy did this to you." That wasn't a question. Still, she nodded.
"I got him back."
"He kissed you?"
"I got him back." She said, a bit more frantically. The look on his face was terrifying. He was angry- utterly enraged. The vast flock of freckles on his face seemed so fierce and dangerous now. Was he angry with her? Because she had allowed Malfoy to get her? Merlin, what if he left her? After all – why should he waste his time in a relationship with an engaged child, one who couldn't even take her family off her arranged marriage? Timmy was quite popular in Gryffindor, and she didn't doubt there were lots of beautiful girls in his year just waiting for him to dump her.
Cedrella touched her boyfriend's cheek, and stood in the tip of her toes to kiss him hungrily. He responded instantly to her lips – she sighed in relief at that. "Trust me when I say I got him back." She assured him, brushing one of his curls behind his ear.
"When I see him again…" He threatened, before smiling at her. "Well, I will leave him – for now. I have a beautiful, outspoken girl to escort, and I love her very much." His eyes twinkled. "Have you seen her around?"
Before she had time to smack him, they heard screams.
[][][][][][][][
Anya had no idea how she had managed to be the only second-year Hogwarts student at Hogsmeade that weekend. It probably had something to do with Dominik, and the fact that he had blackmailed her. She had been at the library that morning, doing all of his homework – which wasn't a real challenge for her – when the black-haired boy had told her he wanted her to run an errand for him.
She gritted her teeth at that. First there was the bet he had done and still didn't specify what it was, only that she would help him to win. Then the homework – he made a real effort with those, getting extracurricular work for her to complete as well. And now, this.
She had taken to observe him during the following month since he had contacted her, and now it was the middle of November and she still couldn't understand his reasons. Dominik Meier. Nobody knew of the Meiers family. But nobody knew of the Riddles or the Donbyres either. The large consensus was that the boy couldn't be a Muggle-born because Durmstrang didn't accept them. The boy was a third year student who had just turned fourteen years old. He did well in classes, although he wasn't the best of his year or anything similar. He usually presented a gentle, easy-going image in public – but that was far from the truth, as she knew. And apparently, he had mentioned once that he had not always had lived in Salzburg.
A slip up, obviously, as she had pried into the whole Germanic institute to achieve that information. If more people had known about that, it would've meant that he had said it more than once; but as it was, she was fairly certain that he only had mentioned it once.
He had lots of acquaintances and was part of several groups of friends. But she still had to find him alone with someone else – only one or two people by his side. So, no close friends; most of them still calling him by his surname. The kind of friendships in which you shared lots of jokes and conversations, but nobody shared secrets. Peculiar.
Anyway, there she was now – taking her first look on Hogsmeade with her blackmailer. At least it was also his first time in the village. They were alone, but several acquaintances of both the Austrian wizard and herself had greeted them. Euphemia Cadogan had looked at her questioningly around her boyfriend's back – probably remembering that Anya was a second-year and that she wasn't allowed there. The emerald-eyed witch shrugged; she had permission to be there – Slughron's permission. People couldn't use her presence there against her, at least.
All of the Durmstrang students were roaming around the village, as they had all been allowed in it as well. It was possibly the most profitable day Hogsmeade had seen in ages. And, her escort continued to keep her ignorant about the reason of her place of being, which immediately brought her mind to the thought she was only there to be showed off – and showed off she was being, her arms linked with the older boy as he stopped to talk with every acquaintance of his. Thanks Merlin the Slytherins didn't speak with Hufflepuff upperclassmen, otherwise she wouldn't know how to explain this situation.
Meier led them into Dervish and Banges. It was a tiny and dusty shop and young man reached them as soon as they entered. The man wore large tortoise shell glasses and a battered tweed suit, which spoke highly about his blood-status. Anya could even hear her foreign companion whispering something like: "Schlammblut."
Meier looked at the Muggle-born wizard in disgust, but spoke: "Mr. Jones owled me saying that my cane was ready." He stated, and the man went to look for the object. Anya looked at him. "Why would you need a walking stick?"
"I never said I needed one. I only paid for the repairing one." He explained, shortly before the man returned.
"Here it is, Mr. Meier. It will be nine Galleons and twelve Sickles." The man said, handing him the stick. The student sneered and threw the coins on the ground, obliging the man to bend down in order to reach them. He dragged Anya outside with him, not waiting to see the scene.
An interesting behaviour for someone who sat with Hufflepuffs, a house very accepting to Muggle-borns and muggle culture.
"I know that Durmstrang doesn't accept Muggle-born students, but are all students blood supremacists?" She inquired.
"There are lots of blood-traitors and half-breeds in Durmstrang, or we would have never been attacked." He shrugged. "Most proper reinblüters chose to remain at the school now that it's ruled by the Dark Lord."
"You didn't?"
"No. Now, shut up."
She arched an eyebrow. Strange someone like that chose to remain with people he despised. Still, she couldn't risk talking more about the subject – not with a denouncement hanging over her head. Anya took a look at his walking stick. It was made of dark wooden, the handle of the format of a white elephant in a platinum coloured metal that wasn't silver.
"What's the material of it?" She inquired.
"White gold and blackthorn." He glanced at her. "It's a present."
Anya nodded, knowing that insisting over more information would be useless. They were at the end of the High Street when the Austrian wizard stopped in front a shop with hundreds of owls and the words 'Post Office' on its front. Well, that was pretty self-explanatory.
"Are you an owl's owner?" Meier questioned her as she peered over his shoulder to see inside of the store. It was high-ceilinged, the dens in the walls the home of owls of all sizes. Over the counter, a blackboard:
Welcome!
Eagle Owl, for intercontinental deliveries – 1 Sickle
Snowy Owl, for international deliveries – 27 Knuts
Tawny Owl, for intercounty deliveries – 15 Knuts
Barn Owl, for intercity deliveries – 8 Knuts
Scops Owl, for local deliveries only – 3 Knut
We don't work neither with Pygmy or Elf Owls!
A slimy woman in oversized leather robes waved them in, several feathers hanging from her braided hair. "Hello, I'm Natalie; which one of these cuties you wish to employ?"
"A snowy owl, I have to deliver these." He declared, showing his just acquired walking stick. Natalie nodded, taking her wand out of her wand holster. "May I?" She asked permission, to which the wizard conceded. The witch cast some levitating and shirking charms before summoning a wrapper around it. "Marsaili!"
A snowy owl descended from its perch in all its albino glory, pitching high for attention. "There girl- deliver this for the gentleman, will you?" She looked at Meier. "You can whisper the address when you want, young sir."
Meier nodded, and did it – in a way that Anya knew it was more to frustrate her than anything, as both she and the attendee were unable to hear. The owl immediately took the pack on her laws and flied through the widow. "That's it, young sir. It will be 27 Knuts. Young miss wants to make a delivery herself?"
Meier gave Anya a pointed look and she drawled a Sickle out of her purse with a huff. "No need, Natalie, I'm only a walking wallet." Anya said, tossing the coin to the woman. "Please, keep the change. I don't know what to do with two Knuts."
"As you wish, young miss, but remember what they say: In for a Knut, in for a Galleon."
"I take enough risks as it is, Natalie, thank you." She only had enough time to bide the owler farewell before being dragged out by Meier, again.
As they stepped out of the post office, a scream echoed through the street, and as if it was a trigger, pandemonium began. A cacophony of screams, widows being shattered and bodies being stepped over as people in the streets tried to run away. She couldn't see anything aside from the people pushing her and she could only hear their screams ripping into her eardrums. At the end of the street, something caught fire – the smell of smoke overtook her senses only for a moment before being accompanied by more unpleasant others.
Decaying flesh, urine, burnt meat. Sweat and fear. And something so rotted that made everything else smell good enough in comparison. That was when Anya caught a glimpse of the motive for such riot. A corpse was burning on the flames which had quickly taken over an entire building – but many weren't. Their skin was pale and dry, free of any life, tainted by death and darkness. Gaunt faces and skeletal bodies, all of which had died a long time ago. She had read about them.
Inferi.
Some people apparated, but then, nobody else did, and judging by the terrified yells, they couldn't anymore. Anya grasped her wand tightly, although she had no idea what to do with it. Yes, she knew what a inferius looked like; yes, she had read about them; no, she had no idea how to fight one…that was a lie, actually, she knew, and had witnessed just now, that fire affected them.
What useful knowledge to use when you were a quarter away from one, and a crowd stood between you and it.
Had the Aurors been warned? She could see none from there. How great were the chances nobody had called them? And Hogwarts? If only she managed to get away, the magical police could be called along with Hit Wizards. Despite assuming that Anti-Apparation wards were up, Anya tried to get away with the ability she had discovered even before having a wand, only to feel something twisting in her stomach before nearly keeling over onto the ground.
Not an option, then. She could fly, though.
No, she couldn't. If someone caught a second-year student performing a kind of magic considered impossible... the consequences would be worse than being maimed by dead bodies. Anya looked upon her escort and blackmailer and froze. His face was the portrait of panic and fear, his entirely body was shivering and he had stopped blinking. Anya couldn't even see his chest rising, which was worrying.
But there was something in him that also made her feel unease. Meier was too panicked – he was supposed to have already experienced something like that. She reasoned that the whole attack on the Durmstrang ships could have been traumatic, but it was entirely too fitting with the image Anya had formed on her head of the Austrian wizard. A two-faced blackmailer needed a fatal fail, something to make him weak, and a trauma was the perfect scapegoat.
And then she caught it, a glint of pleasure in Meier's eyes when the Muggle-born employee of Dervish and Banges was dragged into the sea of inferi by one of the corpses. He was enjoying the view, for goodness's sake! Nausea took over her when she saw one of the creatures breaking the Muggle-born's neck and she reached the realisation any Slytherin would.
She had to get away.
Not paying much attention to the arm which hold her, Anya freed herself and pushed Meier away. If he liked such thing, he could stay and watch it – she didn't care, actually, it would be better if he died with her secrets unspoken. She stalked to the insides of the Post Office, taking a look at witch who was kneeling on the floor.
"What are you doing?" Anya asked when she noticed Natalie was chanting something. Suddenly, a wall of black flames was raised in the front of the shop, in a way they still could see what was happening.
"Young miss." She greeted. "This will hold the creatures for a while, as I'm not sure sending these guys away will do any good." The woman motioned to the owls. "The creatures cannot be alone."
"You have Floo Connection?"
"Rá. They blocked every way out. Except broomsticks, people raided Spinwitches." She looked out the window, where someone flying on a broom tried to avoid spells, until a green one connected and the corpse fell from the sky. Apparently, it had been wise of Anya to not try to fly away.
The owls were screeching high, but Anya ignored them in order to listen to the screech of outside. The inferi were slowly walking up the street, slowed down by wizards and witches who had got the message on using fire to repel them. The students were another thing.
Anya watched as a Durmstrang girl which should be eleven or something was pushed behind by desperate upperclassmen. No, no, no. She couldn't let them die. It was something that Meier would do – and granted, Tom would as well. But she was better than that. She didn't know the spells, but she had power after all – much more than most magicals.
"Which spell?" She asked Natalie, who was too busy giving her owls attention – apparently not caring if people were dying at her doorway. Nice.
The woman gave her a dubious look. "How old are you? This is a N.E.W.T level spell, dear, you won't be able to perform it."
"I'm twelve, and I assure you I will. I don't really think that a witch who works as an shopkeeper is magic-powerful enough to cast things I can't."
"I'm a crazy pyromaniac. The Unspeakable Department fired me after I put fire in everything." She smiled at her. "So I was left with my dears." Well, that explained the nonchalance of the woman, at least. Anya was beginning to understand that the Wizarding World was the home of an entirely bonkers population.
"There are people dying there! If you refuse to help them, let me. I will be fine. You don't care about me either way."
"True. Tenebre flammare." Natalie chanted, waving her wand as if she was drawing a square and suddenly conjuring a square of dark flames. She shoved a potion in her direction. "Ice Potion, drink it before passing through the walls. The spell has the same variations of the wand-lightning charm. Don't be killed by the corpses, if you are going to die – die flying."
The woman was completely mad. Luckily, Anya was incredibly used to asylum patients. She shoved the potion down her throat, feeling the sensation of ice flooding her body as it settled down. She shivered and passed through the wall of fire unscathed, which was a good result. Immediately, she was also shoved by a fifth-year; which was a bad result.
Then she noticed the inferius which had just grabbed a small girl. "Carpe Retractum! Incendio!" The magical rope burned around the corpse, transforming it in ashes quickly. The girl looked at her, running in her direction with tears staining her face. Two other children, who couldn't be more than a year younger than Anya as they all wore Durmstrang uniforms, ran in her direction as well.
"Ok?" Anya asked, in a language all of them possibly understood.
"Astrid! Sie nahmen Astrid!" The girl cried out. "Sie…sie…"
"Sie ist tot." Anya told her imperiously that her friend was probably dead. "Hinter mir!" She ordered, and the children got behind her quickly. "Incendio." She showed them the spell, and demonstrated how it burned a near inferius. It wasn't the best environment to teach, but it would have to do.
Suddenly, she caught the sight of a known face helping Spencer get up. A spell went flying in their direction and Anya didn't think twice before casting: "Protego horribilis!" The curse rebounded and gashes cuts were opened in the body of a inferius, which didn't even bleed.
"Cedrella!" She called the snake student, who ran in her direction with a redhead male Anya recognised as a sixth-year, and the two Ravenclaws they had been saving from inferi.
"Nastya! What are you doing here?!"
"Latter. Get as many people as you can inside a house, take these children." She instructed, targeting a inferius with bluebell flames, which only burned the target and kept unharmed the elder man which was being attacked by the creature.
"The Floo isn't working!" The redhead informed her.
"Just do it!" She shouted, diving to avoid a curse. Where were the attackers who were helping the inferi? Or maybe there was none and those were only lost targets? No. No need for targeting people in the air.
A scream caught her attention and Anya turned to see as a inferius dilacerated the body of someone she had known. Wayne Mason-Buckley. His deep blue eyes caught hers for a moment and she could only see pain. And then there was nothing. Those pale hands of the creatures grabbed all entrances of him and he was quickly dragged inside the crowd of inferi, the last fibres of the viola player's existence vanishing there.
"Segítség!" Someone yelled, and there was Stefánia Mordon. Anya casted the bluebell flames again, giving enough time for the girl defended herself pushing the inferius away. "Get to the houses!"
The girl seemed to understand, because she quickly caught some people wrists and dragged them to insides one of the buildings.
Anya turned to face the big mass of dead bodies that was almost surrounding her. She took three children, too young to be students, and started to run and push those forwards, until they got the idea and continued on their own. She did as well, a bit of impulse by her flying abilities, true. If she flew near the ground, it was almost unnoticeable.
But it wasn't fast enough – that was proved true when she felt a claw closing around her ankle. She stumbled and her wand rolled out of her hand. The nails ripped skin easily, burning in an unbearable manner. Terror took her mind when she remembered the image of Buckley's death moments ago, and she tried to kick herself free.
More hands closed around her legs and she felt tears shimmering down her eyes. No, she couldn't like that! She was to die flying!
"Incendio!" The inferi attacking her burned, and Anya looked over her shoulder to see Fanni nodding at her, her arms grabbing the young children Anya had saved.
Her orders were being passed mouth from mouth, apparently, as she could see many people motioning others to the inside the buildings. Stefánia was at Gladrags Wizardwear, in a smaller street. They would be fine, Anya decided; the inferi were only attacking the main street – she could spell other buildings before that one, so far away.
She began to cast, they didn't have more time to waste leaving the buildings unprotected. "Tenebre flammare!" She shouted, and the wall of flames appeared in front of the Three Broomsticks. "Incendio!" She pointed to the inferius which had dared to approach her. "Tenebre flammare! Incendio! Tenebre flammare! Incendio! Frigida flamare! Tenebre flammare!"
The inferi avoided the spelled buildings every time. It was an extremely effective spell. As she ran up the street, fewer and fewer houses were targets – which only made them more fast, as they have less people they were able to kill – and her core slowly drained from adrenaline to magic.
"Get inside, Nastya! You are barely standing!" A voice ordered her and she glanced at Euphemia Cadogan, whose hands were gripping her wrist tightly; her boyfriend, Lawrence, fighting with the inferi who had been following her – together with the redhead Anya had seen Cedrella with.
"I'm fine! I only have to get to Fanni, it's the last one!"
Euphemia Cadogan took a look around the street – all buildings were either destroyed or spelt against inferi, it didn't look as if there was any remaining one to spell. "Where is that?!"
"Down the street, in an alley. Gladrags." Anya explained, and Euphemia easily located the shop she had been so many times in. She could only see the roof of it, actually, but that was enough.
It was surrounded by a sea of inferi, the last remaining combatants conjuring fire after fire against the animated corpses. Anya must have followed her eyes, because at the next moment her breath caught on her throat. "Merlin, no." She mumbled weakly.
But there was nothing to be done, and quickly the roof of the store was flooded by inferi, decimating bodies of children. Euphemia could only watch when Anya summoned fiendfyre and sent a giant snake of cursed fire in the sea of inferi.
A curiosity: I didn't plan for this attack to happen when I first thought of the second year - but Grindelwald planned it so it happened. So it isn't my fault.
By the way, I would be really be overjoyed with reviews!