Chapter 18 – Dominique's Decision

Dominique crept into the office, her heart beating as fast as it possibly could. Stealing a quick glance over her shoulder, she closed the door, cursing loudly as it creaked. Dominique spied the fireplace at one end of the office. It was fairly small, but size didn't matter. A fireplace was all she needed.

Aiming her wand at the logs, a small fire suddenly ignited. Dominique took the small package from her pocket. It had cost her a fair bit of money to buy this off of a Slytherin student – a ridiculous amount for barely more than a pinch of Floor Powder – but she couldn't be sure that Neville would have any in his office.

Would anybody notice that she'd left the Great Hall? How long would it take before anybody realised she wasn't at Hogwarts anymore? She sprinkled the powder into the fire, admiring the beauty of the now emerald green flames flickering before her.

With one sharp intake of breath, hoping with all her might that this would work, she stepped into the flames and said loudly and clearly, "Knockturn Alley."

Dominique fell to her knees, and a sharp pain shot up through them. She hated travelling by Floo Powder, but at least it had worked. She stood up slowly, taking in her surroundings, and brushing off the dust that now coated her jeans. Dominique had never actually been to Knockturn Alley before, but she'd heard all about it from people at Hogwarts, and she was certain this was the place she would find what she was looking for.

Wherever she was now, it was very dark. From what she could see, the shop was full of dark, intricate objects, all covered in dust. There didn't seem to be anybody in. Making sure not to touch anything, Dominique left the shop and peered down the eerie alleyway. Keeping her head down so that her brunette curls fell across her face, she crept down the alley, trying to keep to the shadows.

Dominique found the place she was looking for – a dingy old shop that smelt absolutely disgusting. The foul aroma surrounding the shop smelt like a combination of Doxy droppings, rotten eggs, and burning flesh. She shuddered as she pushed open the door.

There were no other customers in the shop. A scabby old wizard looked up from behind the counter as he heard Dominique come in. He looked at her suspiciously, and although Dominique was shaking, she strode over confidently, eager to look mature enough to buy what she was buying.

"I placed an order for a potion," she said clearly. "An order for Dominique Weasley.

Now that she was so close to the man's face, Dominique could see every grotesque detail. He was completely bald, but the skin covering his head and face was so thick and wrinkled that it resembled an elephant's hide. Thick, wiry hair was protruding from his nostrils, and his cracked lips were open to reveal the cavernous black hole that was his mouth. He had only one mangled old tooth inside. His appearance made her feel sick, but she needed the potion before she could leave.

He continued to eye her suspiciously. "Bit young to be purchasin' such a potion, ain't ya?" he wheezed.

Dominique gave him her most cold and sophisticated look. "I have suitable payment. You'd be a fool to turn me away."

The wizard scowled at being called a fool. "I'd be arrested fer sellin' this to ya, young lady. Potions like this ain't fer little underage girls."

"I highly doubt potions like this are supposed to be sold at all. And if somebody were to find out you were selling them, I'm sure a lifelong imprisonment in Azkaban would be a suitable punishment," she said coolly.

Dominique could see the panic in his sunken grey eyes. "Let's not be hasty," he said quickly. "I'll sell ya the potion alrigh' but tell me girly, who're ya plannin' on usin' it on?"

"I highly doubt you need to know such information."

"I do if you want me to sell it to ya."

Dominique narrowed her eyes at him and paused for a while. "Myself." She was frightened of how scared her voice had sounded when she said it.

"Yourself, eh?" he asked, suddenly looking full of respect. "Life ain't a pretty little fairytale then, is it?" She said nothing. "Alrigh' then fine, pay up an it's all yours."

Dominique retrieved the small bag of money from inside her cloak and placed it in the man's outstretched hand. His eyes lit up with glee as he greedily counted out the coins into his hand.

"'Ere ya go then darlin,'" he said, handing over a tiny glass bottle.

Dominique took it from his wizened old hands, shuddering as she did so. Inside the bottle was the blackest substance she had ever seen. Even the sight of the potion sent shivers up her spine.

"How quick is it?"

"Quicker than falling asleep – almost instant."

"And it's not... painful, is it?"

"Completely painless – ya won't feel a thing."

With determination, Dominique pulled the cork from the bottle, creating a loud popping sound. The smell coming off it was indescribable, but it made her feel woozy. As she brought the glass bottle up to her lips, the wizard suddenly lurched forward, clasping her wrist tightly. Dominique let out a small cry of surprise, and was so shocked she nearly dropped the bottle to the floor, spilling its deadly contents.

"Not here," he hissed. "How's it gonna look if people find a dead girl lyin' on my floor, eh? How am I supposed to get rid of ya body?" He glanced nervously around the shop, as though there were spies lurking in the shadows.

Dominique hadn't considered this. "Fine. Unhand me and I'll be on my way."

Watching her sceptically, he reluctantly released his grip, and Dominique pushed the cork back into the bottle firmly. With a nod she turned to leave.

"Good luck darlin'" he wheezed.

Dominique felt sick as she left the shop, never looking back. She hurried down Knockturn Alley until she emerged into the dazzlingly sunlit streets of Diagon Alley. It was very busy. Perfect, she thought. Dominique wanted to make a scene. She wanted to get the attention she'd been deprived of for all these years.

She cast her thoughts to Hogwarts. Lunch was probably over by now. Would anybody have noticed her absence yet? She thought of her family. Would they cry once they heard? Probably not. They had the new baby to fill her gap. Although only a week old, that baby had received more love and attention than she had in all her sixteen years of being a Weasley.

With one final look around the beautiful streets of Diagon Alley, she uncorked the bottle of pure black liquid. Her hand was shaking. Taking her final breath, Dominique raised the bottle to her lips.