LTAGATV
Grey's house was a small, redbrick building nestled between a pub and a clothing store displaying vibrant jumpers for the upcoming autumn season. It was located only a few blocks away from the Royal Marsden. The tall, dark lamps lining the street cast warm pools of light around a meter wide on the gum-plastered concrete sidewalk and the occasional glass shard. Exchanging a look with Al, I gathered Numberita's wits. Okay. It was relatively late – around nine twenty PM – so she ought to be home, but it was still early enough that it wasn't so odd for us to be visiting. She should have been Obliviated by now, so hopefully she wouldn't remember our prior less-than-ideal encounter. Al and I would visit, try and get some information, then leave.
Of course, my plans hadn't been very successful lately, but I was trying to keep an open mind.
I walked up the concrete steps leading up to the unassuming wooden door, hesitating for two seconds before ringing the doorbell.
Sixty-two seconds later, I heard muffled footsteps – she had a carpet, then – approaching the door.
"Who is it?" a feminine voice called through the closed door.
I swallowed nervously before opening my mouth. "Er, hello, I'm Amélie. My friend Henri and I are here for the week – we're visiting from France – and we got a bit lost on our way back to the hotel. Would you happen to have a computer or map we could use?" I said, giving my best impression of Dominique's mother.
There was a long pause. Then the door slowly opened, revealing Freya Grey's reluctant, sharp face.
"What hotel are you staying at?" she asked, opening the door so that only a six-centimeter gap appeared (perhaps she still remembered some emotional distress from the prior events. Or maybe she was just a naturally suspicious person). Her eyes darted between my benignly smiling face to Al's slightly-less-benignly-smiling face.
"The Daisy," I answered smoothly. Al shifted behind me (he'd wanted to name the fake hotel the Serpentine or some other rubbish like that. Well, I was the one speaking so I got to decide. He wasn't amused) but said nothing.
Grey's brows furrowed. "I haven't heard of that one," she said suspiciously.
I forced a laugh. "Well, it is quite small – our friend gave us a discount, and, well, the university bills are quite expensive-" I let my voice trail off. To my relief, her face opened slightly (at least she didn't look like she was going to slam the door anymore).
"Tell me about it. After med school I was living on canned tomato sauce and pasta for months," she said, opening the door another three centimeters.
I resisted the urge to jump up and down in triumphant glee. Stay calm, Adela. Calm.
"Anyway, could we…?"
She looked over my shoulder at the tall, dark-haired man behind me. She frowned slightly at Al. I resisted the urge to groan; as a highly trained Auror, Al couldn't help but appear tensely alert. He was still dressed in the inky black Auror uniform that did nothing to hide his lean muscles and athletic physique, and his perpetually narrowed green eyes did nothing to help the "harmless boy-next-door" vibe he was trying to emit (at least my short height and plain features came in handy in these situations).
"You can come in. Your friend, I'm afraid, will have to stay outside," she said firmly. Her thin lips were firmly set, and her fingers were once again inching towards the doorknob. I decided to cut my losses and nodded blithely, "Of course! Henri-" I began, turning to face Al.
I flicked my eyes toward the small window directly to my right, the one that looked into the living room. He nodded slightly before grinning innocently.
"I'll be right here, Amélie," he said cheerfully.
Grey opened the door a bit wider, allowing me to enter her flat. It was warm and smelled faintly of some kind of spice. I tilted my head slightly, surreptitiously trying to identify the scent. "I was cooking chili," she explained, shutting the door firmly behind me. I blinked; Merlin, she was observant. I'd need to be more careful.
"Ah," I said lamely. I followed her quietly to the living room. She gestured toward the computer set on the small wooden table by her wall. She pushed aside the worn paperback books, revealing an old keyboard.
Right. I stared at the Muggle contraption for a moment, gathering my resolve. I hadn't touched one since using Black's computer two weeks and six days ago, and his computer had been a sleek, silvery model. This one looked as if it'd been around longer than Al's little sister.
Feeling Grey's watchful eyes, I gave her a cheerful smile before sitting gingerly on the rickety wooden chair, my fingers hovering above the bulky, black keys. Okay, first things first – I had to turn it on.
I half-stood, half-sat as I craned my neck, feeling behind the screen for that small power button that would turn the device on. Grey watched me for twenty-one seconds before kneeling down and jabbing at a large, black box underneath the desk. Immediately the machine began making loud groaning noises as the screen flickered to life. I glanced surreptitiously under the desk, noting that the rectangular box underneath the wood now glowed blue.
Huh. So the box and the screen were connected. Fascinating.
"Never used a Dell before?" Grey asked. Shoot. A Dell? Numberita reasoned that she was referring to the Muggle device in front of me. I swallowed, squeezing my eyes shut for a second before turning around to face the woman behind me.
"Er…no," I said sheepishly. "Our family was more of the…" Numberita raced frantically; what had Black called his computer? A Pack? Mat? (Well, he'd first called it his baby, but somehow I doubted that Muggles actually called them that – they were odd, but not that odd). Numberita located the memory, and I resisted the urge to smile in triumph. "-Mac type," I finished, unable to hide the slightly triumphant edge to my words.
She eyed me oddly before glancing at the clock set on the flowered wallpaper above the computer. Right. I was supposed to be quickly looking up the hotel's location.
As I jabbed tentatively at the keys (Merlin, this was difficult), I tried to engage her in conversation to distract her from my obviously inept technological skills.
"You have a nice house!" It really was nice. Though it wasn't in the best of neighborhoods (which was odd – as a successful doctor, Grey ought to have more money; where did her paycheck go if not to her flat?) and the furnishing faded and old, it was neat and lined with obviously well loved books.
My eyes caught on a framed photograph on one of the bookshelves – it showed a smiling Grey and a bald patient with weary but triumphant brown eyes. I squinted, trying to make out the blurry form in the background. It almost looked like an elderly man…a curl of excitement kindled; maybe it was old Ben! Did that mean that the patient was Violet?
"…Thanks."
Well. She was feeling awfully talkative today. Not.
I tried again.
"This looks expensive! What do you do for a living?" I asked abruptly. There was another long pause. Oops. Maybe that wasn't the most socially acceptable thing to ask someone you'd just met. Well, it was too late to take it back now.
Maybe I could pass it off as a foreign thing. Were the French blunt? I had no idea; I'd never been outside of England (and Scotland, though that was only to attend Hogwarts).
Oh well, I was going with it. I might as well use it to my advantage.
"I'm a doctor," she said slowly.
"Fantastic! Maybe you can help me; you see, Henri and I aren't just here for pleasure. Our friend has cancer, and we feel we can get better care here for her."
"Really? What cancer?"
Shoot. I had no idea what sort of cancer Violet had. Hm…well, Daisy had told me that she'd often seen old Ben with some sort of burning stick that spewed out noxious smoke. Maybe it was lung cancer…?
"Lung cancer," I tried.
"Ah, you're in luck. I work at the Royal Marsden, and we have a top-notch oncology department. Many of our doctors specialize in lung cancer," she said.
Success! Barely managing to hide my excitement, I asked, "That sounds amazing! But, and I mean no offense by saying this, we haven't had many good experiences with hospitals. Too often has our friend had to hear tales of doom. Are there some past patients we can talk to?"
I held my breath, waiting for her to kick me out of her house. Luckily, Grey just looked thoughtful. "I'm afraid it's against hospital policy to disclose any patient information…but I do have a close friend who I'm sure wouldn't mind speaking to your friend about her past battle with cancer."
Still holding my breath, I blurted out, "That would be great! My friend…Eve…would love to speak to her!" Well, Vane was going to kill me. Oh well; I'm sure I could convince her to play along. Maybe.
Grey nodded, extracting a stray piece of paper from one of the desk drawers. She scribbled a number in blank ink before shoving the paper towards me.
"Here's Violet's number. Just tell her that I sent you," she said. Then her eyes flicked back to the computer screen – the screen that was still showing my failed attempts to open some searching browser (there was now a flashing ERROR sign in red on the screen).
"Um…I'm more at home with the written word than these newfangled contraptions?" I tried. Thankfully, she nodded. "Me too. I can never figure out the new machines at the hospital," she said. She rescued the black sphere-thingy from my hand and slid it across the desk, closing the ERROR sign with a single click. Then she looked at me expectantly.
"What hotel was it again?"
I ran my hands over the paper nestled safely within my pocket. I smiled, a genuine grin that made my soul want to sing –
"The Daisy. It's the Daisy."
xxxxxxxxxxx
After we'd left Grey's house and while we waited for Vane three meters away from the building, Al convinced me not to call Violet immediately.
"It's past ten. She probably doesn't want to hear from a stranger so late at night," he pointed out. I huffed in annoyance, but I was still too ecstatic over our success to maintain a dour mood.
"Fine," I conceded. I reached into my pocket for the seventh time to run my fingers over the now-worn slip of paper. This could mean the difference between a success and a failure. My lips curled into a large grin, and I couldn't help but jump a bit in place. Al watched me with silent bemusement.
"At least this was successful," he said. I nodded happily, leaning against the brick wall carelessly as I allowed myself another triumphant jump. Then I sobered slightly, thinking of the prior events at the prison.
"Do you think the Unspeakables have been notified yet?" I asked. Al sighed, running a hand through his hair. He glanced back at me from his watchful post a meter away and said, "I certainly hope so. I'm sure whoever the Bulgarians' benefactor is will try and obtain the phoenix as soon as possible."
"What happened with Vane?" I asked.
"She's probably still at Scorp's. She'll be back so-"
"No, I mean what happened between Vane and Scorpius?"
Al sighed again and moved closer, leaning against the cold bricks next to me.
"They're childhood friends. Scorp used to vacation in Bulgaria during his summers, and he used to frequent the same park Vane went to. Vane's childhood wasn't the…best, and you know how cheerful Scorp can be. He was there for her, and she really liked him."
Huh. I felt another pang of pity for Vane (of course, the proud Auror would probably kill me if I showed even a semblance of outward pity). Sure, my childhood hadn't been the warmest of times, but at least I'd had good memories with Seth and even my parents before the Sorting. Vane had only Scorpius, and even then she only had him for the summer.
Merlin, she was brave.
I was about to voice my admiration when the usual snap of an Apparition resounded across the deserted alley.
A very disheveled-looking Vane ran forward, brandishing her wand with an uncharacteristically wild look in her eyes. Al started forward immediately, drawing his wand out in a single, smooth motion.
"What happened?" he asked harshly.
"Green's gone rogue," she said through labored breaths. She winced, her hand twitching towards her torso. My eyes dropped immediately, widening when I saw a spreading red circle visible even in the darkness of the night.
"Adela-" Al began, his voice strained. I nodded, stepping forward and swallowing my unease. I yanked Vane's shirt up unceremoniously, my eyes straining to see her skin in the dimly lit alleyway.
"It's nothing. It was my fault for not paying attention. I was walking back to the Ministry from Scorpius's flat when a stray hex hit me. The whole building's a war zone," she said, hissing when my hands brushed a rather large cut curling up her side.
I paused, trepidation punching its way through my gut. "A-a war zone?" I repeated dumbly.
From a meter away Al cursed loudly, snapping his communication device shut and shoving it back into his pocket.
"All radio is down. I was wondering why I hadn't gotten any of my requested updates, but I didn't – didn't-" he stopped talking abruptly, turning on his heel to face Vane and me. His face was hardened, and he gripped his wand with fingers whitened with tension.
"I need to get over there. Adela, can you-?"
"Go, Al," I said firmly. He flashed me a grateful smile before Apparating away hurriedly, leaving only the faintest trace of fresh pine behind.
"Right, this will leave a scar. Sorry for ruining your swimsuit modeling days," I joked weakly. Vane shot me a glare before squeezing her eyes shut and whispering strangled curses in Bulgarian. I swallowed again before aiming my wand carefully at her torso. The gash was deep, and angry red streaks curled ominously from the gaping wound. It looked like the first signs of infection and was sure to get worse if it wasn't closed soon.
"Vulnera sanentur," I murmured, narrowing my eyes as I struggled to keep the spell in line. A steady stream of rippling blue light shot from my wand, hitting Vane's skin with bright light.
"S-silencio," Vane choked out. I felt another burst of admiration for the Auror; how could she even think of keeping Muggles away while she was in such pain? Then she bit back a choked scream as the spell hit a particularly deep part of the wound. I winced but continued determinedly.
"The-the whole building was a bloody mess. Flames were rising high, and even the Muggles were staring. We lost some fighters to Muggle-deterrent duty, but they couldn't Obliviate all of them fast enough. I spotted a glimpse of Green – he-he looked different. He was shouting some rubbish about sin and revenge. Then I was hit by a hex and came here to warn you," she said through gritted teeth.
I finished the spell with a relieved sigh, my fingers trembling slightly as I lowered my wand. Numberita raced as conflicting thoughts all clamored for my attention; Green?
I hissed as one memory sprang to attention, flooding Numberita with images of a cold, cold smile of bared teeth and menacing promise –
So I hadn't made it up. Green had regained consciousness. But why had he turned bad? Numberita recalled the hot pink shirt and the (though admittedly brusque) not unkind way he'd treated me. Something didn't add up…
Vane, who had yanked her shirt down with unceremonious brusqueness, gestured impatiently for me to join her in the middle of the alleyway.
"Come. The Aurors need all the help they can get. If a Ministry guard was infiltrated, who knows who else has been turned…" she said grimly.
I nodded, a cold trickle of despair winding its way around my throat. Who could we trust? Then, gripping arms tightly, we Apparated to the Ministry, twin expressions of determined resolve held firm on our faces.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Chaos. Heat. Screams.
I stumbled slightly on my landing, Numberita still whirling from the force of the Apparition. A wave of heat blasted my skin as angry flames hungrily ate the rippling night sky. Crowds of Muggles screamed and pointed at the once-austere grey Ministry building. Harried-looking wizards dressed in black pointed their wands at Muggles who grew confused and blank only to spot the flames in the next second and start screaming once more. Vane vanished from my side, and I spotted a flash of her blonde hair streaming behind her as she ran straight into the building.
Searingly bright flashes of hexes raced past the shattered windows, slamming into mortar, metal, and flesh with loud, jarring explosions. Shaking myself from my dazed stupor, I set my chin determinedly and, gripping my wand tightly, ran into the building, casting a silent heat-repellent spell on my body as I darted past the Muggles.
A high, eerily familiar voice rose above the discordant chaos.
"You have stolen from me. You will pay. You for he, eye for eye, blood for blood," it boomed, soaring up and down the octaves in a thoroughly unsettling chant.
I furrowed my brow, Numberita thinking furiously as I instinctively dodged a bright green curse. I knew that voice. Vane had said that Green was using some voice-amplifying spell to speak, but…this didn't sound like Green. Numberita recalled his voice; it had been low and raspy. This one, while rough, was high, feminine.
It sounded like…Aleksandra.
But how? She was dead. I'd seen her body myself, covered in sickly white runes. Wait. Was it possible that those runes had created some way for her to fake death?
A faint rustle interrupted me from my thoughts. The hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I slammed down to the ground just in time to narrowly miss a sear of blazing heat. The flames slammed against the opposite wall, causing the white paint to curl and blacken. Shooting a returning spell behind me, I ran past the familiar stone fountain towards the rickety stairs tucked behind the lavatories. The hazy smoke filled the room, making it hard to breathe, let alone see who was fighting whom. Only the occasional burst of brilliant light lit the room, and only then it was only for a split second. I had no idea who was an ally and who was a foe – or even who the foes were. If the voice did belong to Aleksandra, then did that mean her benefactors had finally shown their faces?
A stray piece of debris rebounded against the stairwell, slamming into the side of my knee with a resounding thump. I hissed, clutching at the area as I half-ran, half-hobbled down the rickety wooden stairs (why were they wooden? Why?). I chanced a quick glance downward; luckily, the skin, though throbbing, didn't appear to be cut. Well, at least that was something.
I rushed past a smeared – with what, I didn't want to know – sign proclaiming, "LEVEL EIGHT." One more flight to go. Thank Merlin for that; my legs were burning and my eyes were smarting from the dense smoke still lingering in the air. The cries were fainter now; most of the fighting was occurring in the lobby. The sudden silence was unsettling; I stifled a shiver, casting wary glances behind me as I ran down the stairs.
I careened around the last bend, my hand sliding against the polished wooden banister, and skidded to a halt before the solemn stone arch that lead into the Department of Mysteries. I swallowed thickly, trepidation threatening to send my stomach into another rousing chorus of "let's try and get Adela to vomit," or LTAGATV for short. I'd never set foot on this floor before; it was top secret and usually required the explicit permission of at least three higher-ups. The usual stone door that guarded the entrance had been blown open, leaving a foreboding black gloom in its place. The slick black tiles of the walls and windowless state of the hall didn't help matters.
Merlin. Well, this had all the makings of a Muggle horror movie. From what I could tell from the one movie I'd watched (okay, so maybe I'd spent the majority of it hiding behind Rose; that stuff was bloody scary!), it was always the one who was alone who got killed.
And did I have any trusty companions with me? Nope.
Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant.
"Okay, Adela. You can do this," I muttered to myself. Then, as I was steeling myself up to enter the dark unknown (hey, that would make a good song title! Note to self: pass it on to Victoire at some point), a sudden bang rang from deep within the Department.
I froze, my fingers gripping my wand tightly as I craned my neck. The sound disappeared as quickly as it appeared, leaving only ringing silence in its wake. Well, at least now I knew I wasn't alone. It looked like the Bulgarians' benefactors had come to retrieve the phoenix.
I glanced longingly back up the narrow flight of stairs. I couldn't even hear the noise from upstairs anymore. Merlin, I wished Al was next to me. He'd give me some snarky push that would somehow make me feel brave enough to go in.
After allowing myself two more seconds of wishful thinking, I squared my shoulders determinedly. Well, no Auror was going to suddenly appear now. I had no idea where everyone had gone or where the Unspeakables were, but I was on my own. I'd just have to get things done anyway.
Well, Seth always said that he wanted to enter his death with flair. So, tossing my tangled hair back, I ran – quietly – into the Dark Unknown (it's capitalized now because I've decided that it is officially a song), mentally shouting "BATTLECRY" as loudly as I could.
I might be a bit weird, but hey – at least I've got style.
Author Note: ahhh thank you all so much for your patience! I'm so sorry for the wait. I was ill for a while and then had a lot of stuff to catch up on, but I'm here now! As always, thank you so much for sticking with this story! :)
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