Chapter 5

A week had passed since the incident and still nothing bad had happened to Io, apart from the occasional angry shove or insult. Sirius himself had gone over to completely ignoring her. She suspected that the Gryffindors wanted her to develop a false sense of security, so it'd be easier to strike when they did.

But Io wouldn't just lie down and accept her fate.

When she entered the Great Hall, dinner was almost over. Io had made sure to arrive late and sit down at different spots around the house table every meal for the past week, just in case they were going to slip something into her food. Her roommates were still annoyed with Io and her twitchy behaviour only made matters worse. As she inspected the pumpkin juice in front of her, she noticed Abby rolling her eyes and whispering to a giggling Ethelyn. Io didn't get it. She had not told on Abby, who'd been the one to provide the botched potion. Why on earth would she be so annoyed?

It started to dawn on Io that there was a lot more to girl friendships than she could fathom. Maybe there was a lot more to student life in general than she knew. The alliances and rivalries in her house alone were so complicated and kept shifting so often, she just couldn't keep up. She took a bite from her cold toast, but lost her appetite almost immediately. Worrying that the food might be poisoned didn't help, either. Io chewed slowly and grimaced. Maybe she should go with something sweet instead. Right at that moment the trays of food disappeared from the tables, as if to spite her.

Io got up with a sigh. She would have to leave soon for detention anyway. She caught Severus' glance at the far side of the table and nodded in passing.

Well, she consoled herself, at least she had one ally in this mess.

Detention with Professor Wenlock was a mind-numbingly boring ordeal. He had a huge cabinet of scrolls, ranging from class notes in Wenlocks' own writing to ancient scripture in strange languages and glyphs. Most however where neither decipherable nor interesting. Furthermore Wenlock made her wear heavy leather gloves, that made it impossible to turn pages. Whether that was to protect the old text or her, Io wasn't sure. On more than one occasion one of the scrolls had hissed at her or tried to escape from her grasp. Maybe it was all part of the punishment.

Worst of all, however, was how absolutely pointless her effort was. The filing system was complicated and stupid. She couldn't read half of the scrolls; most weren't dated or the authors had remained anonymous. So she mostly sat there trying to decipher miniscule text and either filing it under 'some mumbo-jumbo', 'old person ranting over something unimportant' or 'potentially dangerous words no living soul can read'.

The Professor didn't seem to care. Apart from a curt greeting at the beginning and a short acknowledgement at the end of the night, they didn't speak.

Io had arrived a bit early tonight in the hopes of squeezing in some study time at the library afterwards, if he let her go sooner. But Wenlock was unrelenting. He sat there unmoved, entirely engrossed in the heavy book in front of him. Civilizations could rise and fall and they'd still sit there till the clock struck twelve, Io thought sullenly.

At least she had finally advanced to a section of the cabinet with writings in English. Professor Wenlock appeared to have a rather large collection of historical analysis by a scholar named Seisyll. Flipping through, Io realized they were all concerning magical artefacts. She stopped to read one of the scrolls that was about a famed peridot locket.

It was rather interesting, she had to admit. The author had collected eye witness accounts and worked on analysing the spell work structure through the stone's origins and the place where the locket was crafted. Io frowned. That sounded unnecessarily complicated. Couldn't he just have- Oh, that's why. The last person to experiment on the locket had blown himself to bits. Or, as Seisyll had put it:

The unfortunate berk found the trinket's defences to be... overwhelming.

She chuckled.

Io turned to another page. The Roshan tiara?

The roots of the tale of the legendary Roshan tiara, the diadem of brightness, while closely linked to the royal family of the Sasanian wizarding empire, can be traced back to Babylonian times. The mythical exaltation of the tiara as a dark artefact can in fact be attributed to the misunderstanding of its origin. Long believed to be under a Parthian curse to haunt the Shahansha's family, it is in fact the mastery of the Akkadian spell work that is said to give the bearer a far deeper understanding of the fabric of the world than the wizard's mind could ever dream to hold...

Intrigued, Io read on and suddenly gasped.

She looked up and found Professor Wenlock in the exact same position as before, sitting at his desk with a straight back and a stern expression, eyes fixed on the book in front of him. She hesitated for a moment, but her curiosity won.

"Erm, Professor?"

He turned to her with a blank expression, as if he had all but forgotten about her.

"Those scrolls here, erm by Seisyll? That's all mainly speculative, right?"

Wenlock's expression was unmoved, but Io thought she could see a spark in his eye that hadn't been there a moment ago.

"What makes you think that?"

"It's just that- some of it seems... unlikely and err, absurd, to be frank."

He gave her a faint smile, but waited for Io to elaborate further.

"Like with this Roshan tiara. I find it hard to believe that people would hand something down to their children that was guaranteed to drive them insane. For generations!"

At this, Wenlock guffawed. "Ah, but it makes perfect sense."

Io couldn't help but wonder whether the Professor was a bit mad himself. It seemed to show on her face, because he sobered up quickly.

"The promise of omniscience simply was too tempting," he explained matter-of-factly.

"But- they knew they wouldn't get that, so what was even the point?"

"That's where you're wrong, see. The tiara held such masterful spell work, it opened the wizarding capabilities to foresee and comprehend the flux of time." Wenlock's face had suddenly come alive as he spoke and Io was certain she had just found the right topic to engage him. "The Shahansha understood that knowledge would drive the bearer insane and still wanted to obtain it. He knew they'd most likely never be able to use those insights, and still he wouldn't give it up. If anyone, he believed, were to wield such power, it should be the Shah. Hybris, Miss Rivers, simple as that."

"But, wasn't it passed down to the- Oh." Now she understood.

"To the second daughter, yes."

Io frowned, trying to make sense of that.

"That's so... cruel."

Wenlock regarded her with an unreadable expression.

"That's what families are like."

Io's frown deepened. It really shouldn't make as much sense to her as it did.

"Well, they did hand it to a son at some point, because one Shah had not fathered any daughters. That son went and killed his father and eighteen brothers. You see why people believed the tiara was cursed..."

"I bet they didn't make that mistake twice."

Wenlock smirked. "You would think that, wouldn't you?"

Io shook her head in disbelief. "Where's the tiara now?"

"It is lost."

Io couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed to hear that.

"All for the better, if you ask me," he added and turned back to his reading.

After that, Io gave up all pretense to file the documents and instead delved into the collection of Seisyll's writings.

When she finally got up to leave it was way past curfew. Professor Wenlock wordlessly handed her a book, before he dismissed her; Golden Fleece and Broken Horne - Arcane Artefacts Through the Ages by Rowan Vanderlaan.

Io knocked on the solid wooden door of Slughorn's office. It was Saturday, Halloween, the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, which meant nearly three weeks had passed since she'd arrived at Hogwarts. In some ways Io couldn't believe it had only been three weeks, in other ways time had flown by so quickly, it felt like it was only yesterday she had kissed her mother goodbye. Elaine had asked her whether she wanted to come along to the village, but didn't seem all that put out when Io said she couldn't go. Although, technically...

Io knocked again, this time with more force.

"Just a moment," a booming voice sounded from the other side of the door.

When Professor Slughorn finally opened the door to let her in, Io realized he wasn't alone. Agnes McKinnon sat in one of the comfortable leather chairs by the fireplace, sipping at a cup of tea.

"We'd just been talking about you," the Professor informed her.

Io snorted. She'd guessed as much.

"I hear you've kept quite busy."

The stern look the Auror gave her let Io know exactly what McKinnon thought of that.

She put her teacup down.

"It's time."

Io rolled her eyes. As if she had been stalling.

McKinnon got up and walked over to the fireplace.

"Thank you for the tea, Horace."

Oh, look who's getting all chatty.

"Any time, my dear."

Io accepted some flea powder from the Auror and stepped into the green flames without hesitation.

"The Hog's Head."

Just seconds later she stepped out of the familiar fireplace in Aberforth's dormitory and brushed off the coal dust on her cloak. With a swoosh McKinnon stepped out behind her a moment later. McKinnon opened the door and checked the hallway. When she waved, Ionia followed her. They moved down the hall to the stairway and up to the first floor. McKinnon opened the door to the small guest chamber and let Io in.

Her mother sat in the chair by the fireplace. She was awake.

Io stepped closer and the door closed. Her mother's eyes followed her. Io sank down to her knees beside her, so her mother wouldn't have to strain her neck looking up. Gingerly, she took one of the bony hands in her mother's lap and placed it between her own palms. The hand was freezing cold, so she started rubbing it softly.

"Hi Mom," she whispered. "I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner."

Io planted a soft kiss on her mother's hand.

"You know they keep me real busy at school, just now I had to write this tedious essay on the goblin uprising..."

Once Io had started talking all the new experiences, all the things she had learned and the countless times she had failed in the past weeks, all the good things and the bad began pouring out of her. She was just telling her about the book Wenlock had lent her, when she realized her mother had fallen asleep. Io stopped short.

Of course. Her mother wasn't there, not really. This was all bloody pointless. Had she even recognized her? Had she heard a word Io said?

In a sudden surge of anger, she got up. The familiar burn was there, chiding her. This time Io welcomed it. Maybe it was just easier to be angry. She turned toward the door.

"Ori...", a familiar raspy voice whispered.

Io felt as though someone had knocked all air out of her lungs. She was stuck right there, unable to move, both wanting to go back and forward at once. Her skin burned furiously. And then she realized it. As much as she longed to turn around, she couldn't. Orphne and her mother had both become an echo of what might have been and never will be. That name wasn't hers anymore. That woman wasn't her mother.

Io took a breath and left. She just wanted to go home, wherever that was. She hurried down the stairs and heard the sound of hushed voices. As if she cared what the hell they were up to... But then Io stopped short despite herself; someone had just mentioned her name. That in itself wasn't too surprising - certainly McKinnon enjoyed talking about her, it was the steely tone of voice that had intrigued her. Io silently moved down the hall, edging closer.

It was McKinnon talking to someone, a man. Aberforth, Io guessed. He was hardly more talkative than the Auror, so she wasn't sure.

They appeared to have a heated argument.

"You can't lock someone up like that. If anyone should know that, it's him. I can't believe you're going along with this..." the man accused.

"He's got his reasons."

The male voice let out a miserable laugh.

"Of course! Never mind free choice. Be a good little soldier, eh? You mark my words, this will all go to hell and you'll only have yourself to blame."

"Desperate times..."

McKinnon sighed wearily.

"Anyway, she's raising enough hell, as it is, Abe. Hardly the mark of maturity."

Sod you, McKinnon. Whatever it is you're not telling me...

"There's of course the other matter."

Silence. When Aberforth answered there was a warning in his voice.

"She's as safe here as anywhere and you know it."

So... they were talking about … the old lady upstairs? Io felt a pang of guilt for calling her that.

McKinnon snorted. She obviously disagreed with him.

"It would kill her," he stated matter-of-factly. What would?

"She's hardly alive now."

He grunted.

"At least Albus has some sense..."

So was this how it was going to be forever? Someone deciding what was good for her, them?

Sod this.

She stepped forward.

"Mind telling me how you're going to get us killed?"

The Auror and the old gruff man turned toward her. McKinnon schooled her face into an indifferent mask.

"I beg your pardon?"

McKinnon looked over to Aberforth, who gave a non-committal grunt.

"Right," Io shook her head. They were the adults; she was the child. Who would ever believe her? "Right." Lock me up and lose the key, will you?

Io raised her head. Well, no more. She took out her wand.

See how you like this-

Then everything went dark.

Io's eyes flew open. She turned her head, trying to get away from the pungent smell. It took her a couple of seconds until she realized she was in Slughorn's office.

The rotund Professor held a little flask in his hand that appeared to be the source of the smell. He put a tiny cork stopper in it and gave her a friendly smile.

"You're in my office, Miss Rivers."

Io had to suppress an urge to roll her eyes. She knew that. The real question was-

"Ouch." Her head ached.

"Take it easy, now."

She screwed up her eyes and tried not to move.

"What happened?"

Io tried to remember, but it was all in a haze. She'd gone to visit… the Hog's Head, hadn't she? But why?

"You fainted." That was McKinnon's voice.

"Oh."

She opened her eyes again. Slughorn was measuring her state doubtfully.

"The feast is in two hours. How about you go lie down until then? Can you get up?"

Io opened her eyes and carefully moved her head.

"I guess."

She felt utterly confused so she focused on the simple task of getting up and taking one step at a time. Then she left the office and before she'd realized it, her feet had carried her upstairs. She passed the Great Hall.

Fresh air. Somehow that was the only coherent thought Io could come up with.

The moment she stepped outside and the cold autumn air hit her, it was an incredible relief. She breathed in deeply and moved forward. A short stroll around the Hogwarts grounds wouldn't hurt.

What had the Professor said? Io tried to recall their conversation. Two hours?

She wandered downhill, instinctively drawing ever closer to the Great Lake. The water looked dark and menacing in the evening light. But something about it seemed to pull her forward. Only when she was close enough to step into the water, Io noticed what was going on and stopped herself.

What the...? She didn't even know how to swim!

Io felt a sudden longing to stretch out her hand and touch the surface of the water.

That couldn't hurt though, could it?

Her hand drew closer to the smooth surface. Just as she was about to touch it she felt a deep pulse coming from the bottom of the lake.

Io jumped back in panic and toppled over. Panting, she scanned the water for movement.

Nothing happened.

When Io sat down to dinner she still felt shaky and didn't even notice the exuberant decoration and the piles of festive food. This had been one weird day. Io promised herself that from now on she would just stay away from the lake and eat properly.

I can't walk around fainting like a fine damsel in distress now, can I?

Too distraught to check what the others were eating, she grabbed whatever was nearest. Beef stew. Well, alright. At least her headache was gone. She felt the reassuring weight of Wenlock's book in her bag. She would just eat quickly, go back to her dorm and read for the rest of the night with her curtains drawn.

Io took two bites of her food. Then she sensed it. A sudden surge of heat rushed through her body and she felt sick to her stomach.

Oh, come on.

Io doubled over in pain and cried out. The students next to her jumped up in alarm. Puss-filled blisters were rapidly growing all over her body and angrily expanding in size. She could hear the first one pop and the cries of disgust nearby. On her chest and back, at all the spots where the runes were cut into her skin, the blisters weren't growing however. Instead her skin started to boil underneath.

Io gagged, she could almost hear it sizzle. Then the familiar ringing in her ears drowned out all other sounds.

No! That wasn't supposed to happen anymore.

Io tried to get up. She had to get out before the white haze would drive her insane. She had to- But all it took were two steps before it got too excruciating to move, the blisters on her thighs rubbed together and popped painfully, the heat surrounding her chest rose to a point where she felt as though she was burning alive.

Was she screaming? She could sense movement around her, blurry faces melting before her eyes. Had she fallen down? Somehow everything appeared the wrong side up.

Before Io passed out, she could have sworn she saw Potter's pale face in front of her.

What a nice finish to a crappy day.

hey there! First of all a shout out to my beta reader MissMooToYou - thank you for your support! All the remaining errors are my own. A dear welcome to the new subscribers and thank you for the reviews and messages, they are highly appreciated and keep me going. I am currently writing a lot for my day job so I won't be able to update as often as I would like to. But I promise there's a lot more to come :)