Chapter 6
Accusingly, the fierce wind's fingers attempted to impede her progress as she flew back to the Hogwarts borders. But Silwen fought through the wind, flying quickly–more quickly than she ever had before, and arrived at the grounds. Hiding the broomstick in a tree, she walked to the Dumbledore's beautiful, horrible tomb. In that tomb lay her "Hogwarts Nanny", and from that tomb, she'd steal the most powerful wand on earth. Steal? But that was dishonest. Could she? Was it possible...?
Unbidden, a flashback entered her mind from when she was three. Snape going to the door. Looking in at his potion–a beautiful, shimmering, silver Veritaserum frothing ever so slightly over the cauldron's rim. Wanting to touch it. Climbing a chair to do so. SPLASH. Feeling like she was drowning for a century in the cauldron. Panicked hands yanking her out, hands lying her down, and pressing on her chest until she started coughing and chocking.
Since that day, Silwen had never been able to lie, or go against school rules, or break a promise. Or do anything that wasn't honest. Was is possible for her to actually take Dumbledore's wand? She doubted it. Then suddenly, Silwen stopped moving.
Voices from near the tomb tumbled off the wind into her hearing range. Was that... "Even though it's good to see ya, 'Arry, ya shouldn't be 'ere." Hagrid.
"I had to, Hagrid. I had to see him again." Harry Potter and Hagrid. Here. Now. No. Not today. Not now. If she didn't go through with this today, then she'd never go through with it. All at once, an idea crept inside her.
Perhaps she could get them to take the wand out of the tomb. She just had to come at it correctly. It wasn't as if they trusted her-the niece of Snape. But she had to try. At least, they knew about her problem with lying. Or what if...Yes. She figured it out.
Stepping purposely on dry twigs in her way, she crept up to the tomb, enjoying the shock on their faces. However, that fleeting enjoyment was gone in moments when Harry spoke. "What are you doing here, Snape?"he spat suspiciously, his eyes glaring at her.
"I'm going to try to take Dumbledore's wand." If the circumstances hadn't been so grave, Silwen would have burst out laughing at their incredulous expressions. "Good morning, Professor Hagrid."
He grunted in reply. "I'll be leaving, Harry. Be...careful."
"Goodbye, Hagrid," said Harry, rising to give him a hug. Hagrid nearly chocked him, then let him down and lumbered off, back to the Hogwarts grounds.
"I can't let you take Dumbledore's wand, Snape," said Harry, still glaring at her.
Silwen glared back. "As it so happens, I can't take it. I can't steal it."
"Then why come?" he asked coldly.
"I-he-I-I had little choice. I didn't realize that I wouldn't be able to touch his wand, let alone steal it until moments ago."
"Little choice? That's what you're calling theft now, Snape?"
"Stop calling me that! I have a first name, Harry! And yes, little choice! With the lives of Draco and my uncle on the line, I have little choice. I-I won't be able to go on if they die."
"Who's holding your precious 'family' hostage? I want to congratulate them," he replied, snidely.
"Then go congratulate Voldemort. Go tell him you're so proud of what he's done. Go watch the murder of my uncle Draco and sing praises to Voldemort then, if you want."
Taken aback, Harry's hostility thawed.
"Oh."
Tears welled in Silwen's eyes, spilling over onto her cold-pinched cheeks. "Please, Harry. Please, help me."
Harry's eyes hardned again, but they did not glare. "I won't help you steal from Dumbledore-even if he's dead."
Sinking onto a frost-bitten log, Silwen started to sob quietly. "What if you took the Elder Wand and kept it with you? Dumbledore would have wanted you to have it, Harry. Just let me use the wand for a moment, telling Voldemort that I have it, then Voldemort will set Draco free. Once Voldemort is informed, I will hand it back over to you."
Silwen paused for a moment, trying to regain some composure, then went on. "Look. Draco isn't capable of surviving from being Voldemort's prisoner, but my uncle is. I know that you and him are bitter enemies, and I may be little less, but not even Draco deserves to be murdered." He looked at her, considering his options, and idly wondering why she had no fear of uttering Voldemort's name. "You can even put it back after-after..." Emotion stuck itself in her throat, clogging it, and not letting her finish her sentence.
"All right. I'll do it," he said roughly. Silwen stood up and stepped back, giving him full range of motion. Trembling slightly at what she was going to do, she watched him carefully remove the marble slab covering the grave, and accio the Elder Wand out of the dead Dumbledore's apathetic fingers. Then, he gave the wand to Silwen.
"Messagum Patronus Voldemort: I have the Elder Wand in my possession. Let Draco go. End message," she said to her Patronus, a dove. "So, now, I can return it?" asked Harry.
New tears arrived and fell off her cheeks as Silwen said, "I'm so, so sorry Harry. I promised to give Voldemort the wand." "Ex-" began Harry, but Silwen was too quick for him. "Petrificus totalus!" she shot, and Harry's limbs stuck together instantly. Accusingly, he glowered at her.
"I'm sorry. ... Honestly. Wait. Dissilusio. At least no one will find you here. Do you want me to alert Hermione?–I know you two and possibly Ronald Weasley are up to something. You always are."Still glaring, Harry's eyes nodded. "Messagum Patronus Hermione Granger: Harry's in a bit of an invisible fix at Brian's place. End message." Quickly, she let Harry hold on to the wand for a second-fufilling her promise of giving it to him after she had sent Dumbledore a message.
"If anyone heard that message, they wouldn't suspect anything. Brian is one of Dumbledores's middle names. I only hope she knows that." Harry looked slightly relieved at the code. "Please understand." ...His scowl didn't relent. "I promise you, I will try my best to postpone Voldemort's fingers meeting the Elder Wand. I'll be cheering for your mission's completion. ... Down with the dictator."
Silwen walked to her broomstick, got it out of the tree and hopped on it, flying slowly. She was so tired. So, so tired. Last night had been a paradise, but her odd sleeping position had done something to her joints, which were now complaining for her to stop and rest.
Rest. Shelter. Inn. Hogshead. Turning a little off course, she headed to Hogsmeade. Arriving there, she got off the broom, and scurried to the Hogshead, quickly casting a Disguisement Charm on herself before she entered. Thankfully, the pub was completely bare of customers. The only movement came from the barkeeper.
"I'd like to book a room, please," she said to the barman.
"7 galleons a night," he snarled habitually at her, not bothering to look up from cleaning his glass. Galleons. Money. She had none.
"What if I work today for my keep?" That caused the barkeeper to look up. Inspecting her face, he nodded. "You look well enough. Get behind the counter, girl. Your work starts now."
Taken aback, it took a moment for her to register the brief orders. "Now, before I change my mind."
"Yes, sir," she replied meekly, and going to "behind the counter."
"You can put your travelling cl-never mind."
Silwen nodded. She had no cloak. Just the robes on her. Tattered, conspicuous-"School robes!" hissed the man. "Get into the kitchens!"
"Yessir," she squeaked, scurrying to follow his orders. The bartender followed her in there.
"Are you insane, girl? Wearing school robes in the local pub that the Carrows and other Death Eaters go to? The pub that Snatchers converse at? They'll snatch you as soon as they see you!"
Silwen froze. How had she forgotten? But she couldn't wear anything else; she had nothing else.
"I don't suppose you have anything else to wear?" Looking panicked, she shook her head. "Wait here. I will be right back."
He stomped off up the stairs, muttering irritably to himself. Would he sell her out? She wondered worriedly to herself. Surely, he wouldn't give her to the Snatchers-not after talking like that. Could she bribe him, maybe? What if he cast her out for his own safety? Silwen didn't have the strength to fly to Diagon Alley and seek refuge there. She began to pace, stopping abruptly. What if he told the Carrows who in turn realized who she was and what she was supposed to be doing? If that happened, she had no doubt that Voldemort would find a way around the Unbreakable Vow and harm her uncle.
"Try these on." The greasy barkeeper had returned, holding an ancient, faded, slightly stained bundle. Stepping forwards to take the it, she looked at his face. Meeting his eyes, she stared. She knew those eyes. Those were-no. Impossible. Dumbledore's eyes were dead. "Try them on now, before I throw you outside," he said gruffly.
"Will you tell them? Will you tell anyone? Will anyone suspect anything with my sudden arrival?" she whispered, petrified.
"No to answer all of your questions. Now change and start working before I decide you are too much trouble to keep."
"Yessir. Er, where is a lavatory?" He pointed to a small, stinking hallway that had a room at the end of it, and strode back to the bar outside of the kitchen. Before he saw her, she put the charm back on herself.
Waisting no more time, she changed into the clothes, which fit her well enough, if only a little bit big. In the groggy, grease-stained mirror, her reflection stared back at her. By now, her hasty Disguising Charm had worn off. Large, fear-consumed eyes peered out at her, almost sallow skin glowed eerily, black hair stuck in all directions and too-prominent cheekbones stuck out of her face. She looked like a banshee. A terrified banshee. If she wasn't so scared, she would have smiled at the irony; a banshee terrified, not terrifying. Yet when she combed her hair, and calmed down a little, her cheeks warmed, softening her reflection. Now, she looked more human.
She exited the lavatory, and walked to her new employer. "Presentable," gruffed the barkeeper. "Now go take orders from my customer." She jumped, turning to face her temporary employer, then did as he had bidden her; someone had stomped inside. With very little confidance, she walked over to the odd-looking man.
"May I have your order, Sir?"
"A little young to be working here, no?"
"Yes. But I'm quite capable, sir." An incredulous look crossed the stranger's face, but not one of recognition. Good.
"Indeed. I will have an ale as well as anything that's still edible."
"Very well." The man left her alone after that, and eventually left the inn when he had paid.
...
The day continued like that, until at it's very end, from exhaustion, Silwen tripped and fell onto the lap of a well-to-do customer. "Aberforth, I didn't know you had hired someone new. Quite a pretty little thing, isn't she?" he said, a leer resting on his lips as he helped her to her feet, keeping her hand in his.
"Touch her again, Ruke, and I'll throw you out!" spat the barkeeper.
Slouching, the customer nodded and gave Silwen his order, eyes still on Silwen, debating whether she was worth it.
"Please, sir, if I could have your order?" she murmured, not meeting the man's eyes, her fingers shaking a tad.
"Why, I thought I had made obvious, Miss." She looked up, then struggled to get her hand out of his grip, her heart racing at the lustful glint in his eyes.
BAM. With a hex, Aberforth threw Ruke from the pub. "I told you, Ruke. Go find somewhere else to drink if you're going to behave like that!" Aberforth shouted from the door. Out in the cold, Ruke cursed, but stalked off, much to Silwen's relief.
"Thank you, Sir."
"Your shift is over. I've given you Room 10."
"Again, thank you."
"Go."
Not waiting any longer, she hurried upstairs, went to her room, bolted the lock shut then proceeded to go through every sort of protection charm she knew. Once finished, she collapsed on the ground, not daring to sleep in the bug-infested bed. Those eyes, and that name...Aberforth...she knew she had heard it before, long ago. However, sleep pounced on her, and stopped her from adding the name and eyes together in a conscious state.
However, in her dream, Dumbledore was talking to her, showing her a secret passageway behind the one-eyed witch. His eyes-Dumbledore's–-Aberforth's-they were the same! "Dumbledore! Aberforth Dumbledore!" she exclaimed, smacking her forehead with her palm. Aberforth, Albus Dumbledore's younger brother. Interesting.
Then chiding herself she muttered, "It's none of my business." And left it at that, satisfied enough with discovering who the bartender was. Once more, she fell asleep and did not wake up until a clock went off at 7 a.m.