Chapter Twenty-five - Wormface
Harry Potter stood by the side of the tent and watched his best mate fumble with his wand. "[Come on, Ron!]"
"[Yeah, yeah. That little nutter better be right - I'm almost out of this stuff.]"
"[I don't think you have to use so much,]" said Harry. Not that there was much at all in the tiny metal tube.
"[Merlin! Couldn't find a better time to polish your wand than now?]" griped George, rolling his eyes. "[Either of you know an anti-apparition ward? Harry?]"
"[Er, well, I've, uh, read Dunpoppin's -]"
"[That'd be a no then?]"
"[What about you?]" asked Harry sharply. He had never tried casting the ward, but he did know one. In theory. Harry thought that he might possibly even know many, if what George had told him about Voldemort and the Tower of the Mind was true.
"[Missed out on that year, didn't I?]" shrugged George.
"[Should we find 'Mione?]" asked Ron. He swished his wand back and forth vigorously.
"[Why? One homicidal wizard, or witch, at a time is enough to deal with.]" replied George.
"[Look, I don't know what set her off this morning, but I'm sure it was your - ]"
"[Quiet,]" interrupted Harry. "[You do have the, erm, thing, right?]"
"[Yeah. 'Course. But...]" started Ron, looking a little sheepish.
"[But what?]"
"[Well, my wand arm is my throwing arm, innit?]"
Harry looked at the willow wand held in Ron's hand, knowing full well the effects of the muggle glue. It would take the better part of a half hour to get it out of his hand, unless Hermione was angry with him. Then the process took a lot less time, though Ron would also not be able to use his hand much at all afterwards. With the morning upset, it would not take much to goad her, which Ron was a natural at anyway, but it was time they did not have. Besides, Ron still needed to be able to throw. Harry sighed; the throw probably did not have to be that accurate.
"[One of us should try and apparate once we get inside,]" suggested George. "[A really short hop, so there's almost no chance of splinching.]"
"[Why?]"
"[What ever did Mad-Eye do with you gits? We won't have cast a ward, but we need to know if Wormtail cast one,]" explained George.
"[Oh. Er, good idea,]" said Harry. The time spent with the old auror had been packed with drills and lectures and, all right, ravings. How much more was there? "[I need to get close to him anyway.]"
"[Don't be daft, Harry,]" warned the older Weasley. "[It's two and a bit against one- ]"
"[Sod off!]" snapped Ron.
"[We'll spread out - if he doesn't apparate we should have him,]" continued George.
"[And if he does?]"
"[It's a bit of a puzzle, but if you think a bit, it'll come to you,]" hinted George. Harry tried to see where the ex-beater was going with that, but could not. He hoped that it did not show, or was at least less obvious than Ron's creased forehead.
"[Or not,]" sighed George, shaking his head in mock despair. "[It's simple - Wormtail was here first, right? How would he know about this hole, ha, thing, that he would come here? Was he waiting here for this lot to start digging, or did he just see them?]"
"[Erm...]"
"[He'll apparate to the farm, or to the forest. Both are where you'd expect to see rats,]" said George flatly. "[The farm would have the better food.]"
v - v - v - v - v
"[Say it again, Ginny. I zink he did not, eh, believe you,]" urged Gabrielle. She stood just off to the side of where Soleil's massive hooves were crashing down, trying to calm the colt as he attempted to intimidate Ginny. The unruly Abraxan had pushed through the gate of the stall when Gabrielle had tried to enter, and was making quite a spectacle of himself. A very loud, violent spectacle.
"[Oh my paws and whiskers,]" said Ginny. She waved her hands over her head, which did not look, to Gabrielle, like fright so much as if Ginny was fending off a cloud of Razor midges. "[Doesn't he remember? It's only been since the morning.]"
"You see Soleil? She is very afraid, yes?" tried Gabrielle. Soleil spread his wings and half-reared, and that was a tell. The social world of the herd was full of such perfunctory challenges. Except for Montaigne, who always seemed to mean it. Soleil did remember the redhead; he just wanted a more demonstrative act of submission. Gabrielle doubted that Ginny would be so accommodating, especially now that the older girl knew what was in the dust outside the stall. And did it really count if she had to be told?
"[Let's go back. The others might need help.]"
Gabrielle considered that the others actually might need help, but could not see what sort of help she could provide. She did have the rustic-style wand, with her Grandmere's hair at its core, but it was becoming clear that setting small fires, or even larger ones, for which she had already apologized, was seldom considered helpful. The best she could do against the rat, or the wizard who was the rat, was to have Soleil stomp whichever he could find. But that could only happen if she could wrest the colt's attention from Ginny.
That, Gabrielle knew, was actually easily done. Soleil reared again, kicking out with his hooves. It was still a perfunctory challenge, just a very emphatic one. She simply stepped in front of the winged palomino, so that when the hooves thudded back down and the huge muzzle was brought low, Soleil faced her instead of the target of his ire. She had crossed her arms across her chest, not comfortably but in the way her Maman would have them. Maman always looked like she was trying to keep her hands occupied, so they would not go off and throttle, say, someone who had just shattered the good crystal ball that that someone knew she was not supposed to touch, ever, even for just a minute.
Soleil's bellowing trailed off into a nonplussed snuffle, and he folded his wings. In the moment that the colt had reared, Gabrielle had hit upon the best plan yet that did not involve having George here protecting her. Which made it a distant second, really. Rats, she recalled, could not fly. Wizards could, with a broom of course, but barring quidditch training she doubted that they would be able to out-fly Soleil. Not only that, but if she were on Soleil then she would be nearly invisible, provided either Lieutenant Mimsey or another bird was used to cover the diadem.
Gabrielle liked her idea. Hiding in the air was much better than hiding on the ground, in the stall, since what they were hiding from was also on the ground. Also, the air would be, eh, fresher. There was also a lot more choice, too, if they had to flee; the stall only had one door. She smiled broadly at the colt, and wondered if Maman would ever consider having an Abraxan at the manor. Papa would, of course, at least promise.
"[Blimey that's scary,]" commented Ginny, who had come up to stand behind Gabrielle.
"[Zen why did you not, eh, show him? Zat is all he wanted,]" complained Gabrielle. Soleil's large eyes flashed annoyance at Ginny effrontery. Gabrielle quickly turned back to him. "We will go flying now. That is much more fun, yes?"
"[I meant you.]"
"[Eh, what?]"
v - v - v - v - v
Severus Snape, having carefully observed his environs, concluded that he stared out at the dullest muggle farm he had ever seen. Now, under a carefully cast Disillusionment charm and halfway across the field, the farm remained completely uninteresting. The tents were slightly more interesting. They seemed a normal sort of tent; he had seen similar colorful canvas at muggle beaches. And, of course, at events like the Quidditch World Cup. What few individuals that could be seen were dressed like muggles, either because they were such or because they were being cautious. Snape, however, felt certain that the cluster of tents gathered around the large hole was the work of wizards. The continued lack of large, metal mechanisms was part of the evidence he was judging. The more decisive bit was the appearance of a huge, winged horse, an Abraxan. Snape had not gotten to see them often when the creatures had arrived at Hogwarts, but they were as easily remembered as the dragons. The giant animal nearly burst from its stall when the gate was released by what seemed to be a first-year student. Snape became alarmed.
Not for the safety of the blond child. The tree of wizardkind was often self-pruning; may as well have done with it early. Prior to Dumbledore's posting as headmaster that might have even been Hogwarts' unspoken policy. No, it was the child's older companion that gave him pause. Her hair was red, Weasley red. That was not conclusive, of course, but Potter had somehow known that Wormtail was in Albania, and now here was a witch with the same build and hair as the Weasley daughter. Snape could see that she stood nervously, ready to flee as the Abraxan reared and neighed. The probable presence of Potter made the situation more difficult, though not for the pathetic Pettigrew. Snape could not see a way for the rat to survive much longer. The Dark Lord was determined to find a mythical wand before confronting Potter, but he also wanted something that was valuable enough to him that he came personally to collect it. If the boy had Wormtail, and, therefore, potentially this valued item, what action would the Dark Lord take?
Severus Snape watched as the Abraxan reared again and spread his wings. The young student seemed completely oblivious to the danger of flailing hooves, appearing to speak to the taller redhead. An ideal candidate for the Ministry, thought Snape.
The Dark Lord, considered the wayward Death Eater, would not risk a confrontation alone with Potter with as many wizards around as the peculiar encampment might hold. He would need to gather supporters to his side for an assault, which would take time. The Dark Lord's plans would also need information, and that would, noted Snape with a touch of satisfaction, allow an opportunity to steer events to some small degree. Information was decidedly more important than the erstwhile rodent, which meant that Snape could move closer without feeling compelled to actually help the useless rat.
v - v - v - v - v
"[All right then,]" whispered George. He stood by the far side of the tent flap. "[On four. One, two - ]"
"[Four?]" wondered Harry. Ron was just behind him.
"[Go!]" hissed George. "[Watch your eyes.]"
"[What?]"
The three burst in through the tent flap, Harry now last, and tried to spot Wormtail. It would have been simple if the insides had matched the outsides, but that was rarely the case in the magical world. Harry remembered that he was supposed to try to apparate. How short, Harry now worried, was short enough not to splinch? It was too late to ask now. He decided to try and reach the small table that was there in the middle of the room. Destination, determination, and deliberation - Harry turned to apparate. Nothing happened except for a sudden, shrill cry from outside the tent; certainly he did not feel splinched. There -was- a ward in place, which would hopefully make trapping Wormtail easier. Ron was pointing to where a man-shape was rising, next to the chest that Delacour had described. The insides of the tent turned a blinding white, like the flash from a thousand flashbulbs. There was another scream from outside.
When Harry could see again, George was sending blasting curses under the furniture, which was quickly becoming the remains of the furniture. Ron was rubbing his eyes and also cursing, just not with his wand. Wormtail was gone, or probably, a rat again. There was a spell that could force an animagus to revert to human form. Harry added it to the list of spells he did not know, and wished they had waited for Hermione. A movement just at the edge of his seeing caught his attention. It was Wormtail, scurrying for the exit and unseen by George. Harry whirled around, "[Reducto!]"
The spell missed Wormtail, but not by much, tearing the tent flap off and sending the rodent flying. Ron was after it immediately, firing stunners at the tumbling animal, and missing. Harry followed George out, and wondered how far the anti-apparition ward extended, if at all. Ron was nearly on top of the frantically, zigzagging Wormtail, who was fleeing away from the camp. Unfortunately, this prevented Harry and George from casting spells themselves. The rat finally threw itself to the side and became Pettigrew, the silver hand closing on Ron's neck.
For a brief moment anyway. Then Ginny, inexplicably, and with a shout, dropped out of the sky, flattening both wizards and knocking them back some ten feet.
"[Ginny? Ginny!]" shouted Harry. Her name echoed from a distance and higher, both in pitch and location. Harry rushed forward.
Too late, however. Pettigrew, his face bloodied from a cut, staggered to his feet, this time with his metal hand clamped around Ginny's neck and his wand at her throat. Ginny struggled weakly. "[P-Potter - Harry. Ron. What are you - No! No. That's far enough,]" warned Pettigrew.
"[Let her go!]" demanded Harry.
"[Cancel the ward and I will,]" said the former rat forcefully, though he was now sweating nervously.
"[It's not our ward,]" replied Harry. He took a step closer to Wormtail, just to see what the rat would do.
"[Stop right there - I - I'll do it.]"
"[But what then? You can't get away, and you can't kill me. You -owe- me,]" challenged Harry.
"[Yes, that's right. You helped me, we're all friends. It's like a family reunion,]" blathered Wormtail as he took a half-step back. Ginny lifted her head.
"[Yeah, a reunion. Except for my dead Mum and Dad, who you betrayed,]" said Harry flatly. "[Ron? Throw it to Ginny.]"
Ron lobbed the pink object toward the Death Eater and Ginny with his off-hand. It was a poor effort, really, but Ginny made a motion to grab it.
So did Wormtail, whose silver hand now closed on what appeared to be a small pink ball, just beyond Ginny's fingertips. "[Really now, is all - ]" As Wormtail's hand grasped the ball, there was a clap of thunder as if lightning had struck. Free, Ginny threw herself to the ground then rolled up onto her knees. Wormtail stumbled and fell to his knees too, holding his arm, his mouth working soundlessly. Blood fountained from between his fingers. His silver arm was gone, leaving nothing but a shredded, bleeding stump that he was desperately squeezing just before falling flat on his face in a faint.
"[Not even a squeal. Very disappointing,]" critiqued George. "[Wondered why you wanted that.]"
"[Oh Merlin,]" groaned Ginny. She moved unsteadily to Harry. "[What in the bloody hell was that?]"
"[A prank, Miss Weasley, if you would, for once, use your eyes. The blood sprays, but does not reach the ground.]"
"[Snape!]" barked Harry, turning quickly to face where the voice had come from. This unbalanced Ginny, who had his arm, and made any attempt at using his wand nearly impossible.
"[Please, enough with the theatrics,]" sighed Snape, mostly for the effect. He cancelled his disillusionment and pointed his wand at the fallen Death Eater. "[I suggest that you take care of that. Now.]"
"[I could make it reach the ground and puddle up, but it would be an extra six sickles per piece,]" informed George. His wand was pointed at Snape. "[We're committed to the budget-conscious prankster. Or so our Powered Points say.]" Pettigrew moaned and stirred.
"[Ron?]" prompted Harry, his eyes focused solely on his former professor's face. But not quite the eyes.
"[Yeah, all right,]" said Ron, purposefully nudging Snape as he passed. "[Stupefy!]" He then bound the once more unconscious Wormtail in conjured chains.
"[What do you want?]" demanded Harry.
"[No threats? No curses? I can not be that far down on your list,]" taunted Snape.
"[Piss off, you greasy git,]" snapped Ron. He pulled the prank from Wormtail's intact arm.
"[Finally, some of that renowned Gryffindor wit. I will gladly take my leave, but I will note two things. Do, please, pay attention. The first is that the Dark Lord summoned that miserable excuse for a wizard to him not long ago, and a mere mile or so from this very spot.]"
Snape paused then, and studied Potter's face. The close proximity of the Dark Lord had no ill effect? "[The second is that the wretched rat lost whatever item he was supposed to obtain. The Dark Lord will come looking for it personally, I suspect, though I doubt he will be alone.]"
"[Why tell us?]" asked Harry mulishly. "[What do you hope to gain from this?]"
"[Minimal carnage, perhaps?]" said Snape. He stepped back from the circle of wands, somewhat surprised that he had not had to block even a single curse. But then, they did have Draco, and Granger was unaccounted for. The potions master recast the Disillusionment charm, and took to the air with the flight spell. Only Harry followed his drifting flight.
"[Stupefy,]" cast Ron again. Harry turned back to the fallen wizard, setting aside the question of what spell Snape had used to actually fly. That was kind of neat, even if it was a Death Eater spell.
"[Was he coming around?]"
"[Nah,]" grinned Ron. "[But we'll have to watch him. He'll just go back to being a rat if he does wake up. We should find Hermione. She knows lots of ways to tie you, er, people up.]" He was bright red.
George, after he finished laughing at Ron's discomfort, asked, "[I live the staid life of a simple shopkeeper, unused to such excitement, so I'll ask. Ginny, how is it that you dropped out of thin air?]"
"[Well,]" began Ginny.
v - v - v - v - v
"[I thought you'd be more, umm, soft. You're pretty dense. I mean solid,]" complained Ginny, shifting around again. "[I can barely feel my legs anymore.]"
"Fly over the forest a little, Soleil," requested Gabrielle, doing her best to pretend Ginny was elsewhere. "I wonder if the unicorn is still near." The Abraxan responded by banking into a gentle arc. Gabrielle knew that he was doing that because she was not wearing the tether. Part of her was quite proud of how well-behaved the colt was; another part was disappointed in the dull flight.
"[You're absolutely sure we have to do this, right?]"
"[Oui,]" sighed Gabrielle in exasperation. "[Zat will not become different, even if you ask again and again and again.]" It was a simple enough concept. She and everything she rode while wearing the diadem would be invisible. Logically, something that was quite beyond Ginny, that meant that Ginny had to be under her. So Gabrielle was sitting in Ginny's lap as they flew over the expedition and fields on Soleil's broad back. It was not comfortable at all because Ginny kept fidgeting.
"[Still doesn't make sense to me.]"
Oh mon Dieu, thought Gabrielle. I should have left her in the tent. Soleil would have been enough protection. She tried to see through the trees, but because she was sitting in Ginny's lap, who in turn was sitting between Soleil's huge wings, Gabrielle really could not see much of the ground below. It was not much fun. "Do you see the unicorn, Pepi-Z?" A tug for no.
"[I mean, the reins and that thing for his head are invisible, right, and you don't have to sit on them.]"
"[You have said zat already also. Ze bit of ze -halter- is in his mouzz. Zat means zat it is part of him,]" explained Gabrielle patiently. Ginny had, Gabrielle had to admit, initially stumped her with that observation.
"[Doesn't he come with a saddle or something?]" Ginny shifted her legs again.
"[Non,]" said Gabrielle. This could be construed as the truth, instead of the lie it actually was. The saddle was difficult to put on Soleil correctly and was far too wide for her, or even, Gabrielle suspected, the taller redhead. Gabrielle could have explained this, but with Ginny it was easier to say no. "Soleil! Let's go back over the stupid hole and you can scare them again." The wizards and witches working below could not see him, but his ringing challenge would make them jump. That was always funny.
"[But you don't talk to animals,]" teased Ginny as Soleil swept into a slow turn. This could be, thought Gabrielle, the worst flight ever.
"[You should tell him zat you are - aah! Aieee!]" Something suddenly burned Gabrielle's chest, and she pulled at her top, attempting to get whatever it was off her skin.
"[What's wrong?]"
"Ça m'a brûlé! [1] Ah! Ah! Aieee!" Gabrielle shrieked again as the burning came back, and now there was smoke coming from her blouse. It was like an ashwinder egg down her front; it even hurt her hands when she try to hold it away from herself.
Soleil, who understood in some simple way that he was responsible for Gabrielle's safety, turned toward the shrill screams to see what was happening. To look where one was flying is also to fly where one is looking, so the colt's powerful wings snapped his flight into a tight spiral. Gabrielle snatched at his mane, and clung to the Abraxan as the colt whipped around - the metric ton! Ginny snatched at Gabrielle, and clung to her skirt, but only briefly as it, and the redhead, dropped away.
v - v - v - v - v
It was not as if Gabrielle did not care what had happened to Ginny, it was just that by the time she had climbed back onto Soleil and gotten him flying calmly again, Ginny was on the ground and obviously still alive. Her sometimes coven sister was alive, but in the grasp of that, eh, Rattail. Even with Soleil there was not much that Gabrielle could do to help her, though Gabrielle knew the colt might enjoy the kicking. Besides, Harry Potter was right there. And, her chest was really hurting. Then, as she circled the wizards below, the rat-wizard's arm exploded. The bleeding, mangled stump brought the horrific events of the previous summer vividly, graphically to mind - the awful witch in the alley and how her head... Oh mon Dieu! She had to get away! Gabrielle pleaded and begged her mount to fly back to the stall. The Abraxan, possibly taking into account the clear panic in her voice, swept in low over the expedition's tents and did not even try to topple any of them.
The mystery of the burning was solved very quickly in the privacy of Soleil's stall. At least, the mystery of what had burned her. The stupid amulet from Nona, the silver medallion, had been responsible. Gabrielle was very sure of that, since it exactly matched the charred, blistered patch over her sternum. A cautious fingertip sloughed off a crisped layer. It should have hurt more than it did, and Gabrielle expected that it would do so very soon. She needed a healer - any of the ones in Paris would be perfect for her. Especially the one who specialized in fixing scars. But, thought Gabrielle morosely, that was not possible without a portkey from Papa. She would have to see the insane healer in camp. He would certainly enjoy treating -this- injury. The fact that Ginny had managed to pull off Gabrielle's skirt only made the thought of going to Listen-For-It-Hunger even more nauseating. He would definitely insist on nightcaps. Thinking of the lost skirt, Gabrielle wondered how she could even get to the infirmary tent. She did not have the apron, and unless she could find something smaller than Soleil to ride, smaller and less, eh, excitable, she could not use the diadem. The healer's tent was on the other side of the hole. Even if she ran, someone would be bound to see. If only the black undergarment was not so sheer...
Gabrielle realized that she was being stupid. Probably due to shock. I am, thought Gabrielle, a witch. She pulled out her wand and tried to find a clean patch of straw. A lot of Wand Arts had been spent on thin wooden boxes, and straw was kind of like wood. It was nearly the same color, for instance. She expected it would be easy to fold the scattered straw into a box. She would not even have to worry about the bottom, nor the top. Tops were hard; points were deducted if the fit was poor. Especially if one's professors held a grudge. Gabrielle could then use the box in place of the skirt.
Except that the wand was not Gabrielle's favorite and it did not seem interested in the spell. Squinting, so that the individual straw things blurred together, helped, but the box-like result still crumbled when she tried to pick it up. Gabrielle also learned that a good way to aggravate a burn on one's chest was to wave a wand around uselessly.
Inspiration came in the form of a kitchen utensil - thwock! Nona's cottage was close by, thought Gabrielle, and she could at least borrow a blanket. The crone would probably be angry that she would be late for 'pune', but surely even Nona would see that the injury needed treatment. And anyway, concluded Gabrielle, it had been Nona that had forced the amulets on her in the first place. Of course, reminded a grateful second thought, the one for the vampire had worked out well.
Gabrielle made her way to Nona's door with an odd, sideways gait. She thus kept her back to the hole and the rest of the camp, holding Soleil's feed bucket behind her. It covered the parts that the lost skirt no longer did. Holding it as she did stretched the blistered, raw wound painfully, and she was forced to rest twice, squatting behind the bucket to wait for her watering eyes to clear. The amulets were stored in the bucket in case they went off again.
Nona was not alone. That was not unusual or even important, except that Gabrielle was in a rather exposed state. She could have managed to conceal herself, by keeping Nona between herself and the curious eyes or by pressing herself against the wall and using the bucket to hide her lack of modesty, but Nona pulled her forward into the cottage. The bucket was taken from her, and then the blouse. Gabrielle would have fled if she could have, or at least complained, but found she could do neither of those things. Instead, she turned pink and expected to die of mortification as the black ShieldWear was slid down her arms.
The other occupants of the room were a woman and a girl. No - corrected Gabrielle's second thoughts, two women, since the younger woman looked to be even a couple of years older than herself, and she was not a silly little girl anymore. Present circumstances notwithstanding. The young woman might have been Lucretia's older sister, since they shared the same tastes in clothing and makeup: black. The older woman had dark hair held back with a band, wore a severe gray dress, and had Aunt Laurel's usual expression upon finding Gabrielle wanting on her face. Gabrielle was not sure what came after voluptuous, but whatever it was would apply here. She thought of Monsieur Lunky, the leather-worker on Knockturn Alley, and George's description of the man's wife. Huge bazoobas or something.
The younger woman was also quite ample. They could be related, but Gabrielle did not see any strong family resemblance. Except in the chest area, which was a little of a disappointment for Gabrielle so far, and which was emphasized by the current lack of cover. Why, she wondered, could she not move? She knew a Pretrificus spell when she was hit with one. Nona had to have a wand somewhere. There was something one was supposed to do to break out of the spell...
Nona, muttering in Albanian, stepped back in front of Gabrielle and provided some needed privacy. Gabrielle glared at her, but what was the point? The old witch took no notice of the level two Look because she was spreading a thick black - Well, Gabrielle hoped it was a proper healing ointment or medicinal paste, but it really looked like a sticky tar. The application hurt as well. Gabrielle could not cry out, but tears could still fall. Why was it necessary to cover half of her chest with it? The burns were bad, but small.
The sticky mess was followed by a yellowed plaster smelling slightly of flowers and more strongly of what Gabrielle hoped was really, really not cat urine. She was relieved to find that it did not hurt when Nona pressed the plaster onto her chest, because that meant that the tar was a medicine instead of just glue. The last second gob of saliva from Nona was neither. Just gross. Gabrielle was even more relieved when the sheer black bodysuit was pulled back up. It now, unfortunately, had two holes in it.
The blouse was in considerably worse shape; the holes were larger and ringed with scorched material. It was one of Gabrielle's too, not something Maman had purchased. A clothing crisis was developing. Nona tossed the ruined item aside and moved to rummage in a chest. She returned with, if one only judged form and paid no attention to fashion, a dress. The simple frock was dirt-brown, ugly, and very obviously too large when Nona pulled it over Gabrielle's head. The younger woman giggled something to her older companion, hiding her mouth behind her hand. Nona circled Gabrielle repeatedly, adjusting the way the dress drooped off her shoulders and sagged at her hips. Gabrielle could not see the point of the effort, as the dress would fit her like a hideous brown tent no matter which side it was pulled to.
Except that, quite abruptly, the dress did fit, more or less. Gabrielle doubted, though, that it looked any better. She wanted to ask her taskmaster if she could also change the color of the garment - perhaps a robin egg blue - but she still could not speak. Nona returned to stand in front of Gabrielle, this time with the amulets. She held the weird claw in one hand and dragged the dangerous silver medallion across it with the other hand. After the third stroke the claw closed on the treacherous tab of metal and curled around it protectively. The combined amulets were then hung around Gabrielle's neck and tucked into the collar of the dress with a sigh of disappointment from Nona. "Sempre," she reminded Gabrielle.
"You never showed me that!" complained Gabrielle out loud. She had not expected to be allowed to speak, and regretted the outburst. Nona had saved her, possibly, or at least immediately, from the insane healer, so the polite thing to do was to be grateful. Tempered, added a peeved second thought, by the fact that the old witch had made her wear the amulets in the first place. "Also, eh, thank you, of course. For the, eh, healing." Not for the saliva.
"Bëni çaj dhe ne do të fillojë, fëmijë. [2]"
"Eh, yes." That was something about tea, so Gabrielle assumed that she was supposed to make a pot of it. Behind her, Nona moved a barrel to the table. Gabrielle wondered what was going on. Clearly it was not preparation for the midday meal, but the two women, or woman and a girl, did not look like Nona's normal customers. The girl had been downgraded in Gabrielle's estimation for too much whispering and too much obvious giggling. Nona put a folded blanket on the barrel, which meant to Gabrielle a session of Seeing, and the crone put the better crystal ball on the table as well. But, noticed Gabrielle, the blue tablecloth was not used. This was, she decided, very strange.
v - v - v - v - v
"[Stupefy!]"
"[Ron,]" said Harry in an annoyed tone. "[Leave off, will you?]" He and the others were back in the large common area of the shared tent.
"[Wot? 'S not like we've decided what to do with him.]"
"[Yeah, but that yellow stuff leaking out of his ears can't be good. Anyway, we might've come up with something if you'd help.]"
"[We can only do magic, Harry. That'd take a miracle,]" noted George.
"[Like you've been a big help. 'Watch your eyes',]" growled Ron.
"[Anyway, what's wrong with Tankelheim's Self-Cinching Net? Very useful if you send goods via muggle transport.]"
"[Well, I can see how that would work to hold him if he tried to turn back into a rat, but, er, he couldn't really answer questions then, right?]" said Harry. "[And wouldn't it just keep tightening when he breathed until, erm, he couldn't?]"
"[Only one way to find out,]" grinned George, raising his wand.
"[No,]" insisted Harry. The older Weasley put on a hurt face.
"[Stupefy.]"
"[Ginny! Not you too. I just got Ron to stop.]"
"[Sorry, Harry, but my neck still hurts a bit, and I've just realized that that bastard has seen me in the all together,]" explained Ginny. "[Back when he was running around as Scabbers.]" There, thought Harry, was a stomach-turner.
"[Why do we need to ask 'im anything?]" said Ron around a ham roll. His stomach was not turned. "[It's obviously in that chest he was bent on.]"
"[What is this 'it' that is supposed to be in that chest?]" asked George.
"[Just, erm, something of Voldemort's,]" said Harry vaguely.
"[Yes, you said as much already. Got to be more to it than that, though. He was willing to have a go at you when you were still in your nappies, so nicking a trinket isn't going to make him change his mind about you.]"
"[It's none of your business,]" argued Ron.
"[Oh yes? This is the thanks I get for leading you lot halfway across the continent in both safety and style? Little Ronnie has always been an ungrateful lout, but I expected better of you, Harry,]" complained George. Harry could not really tell whether the older Weasley was upset or not.
"[Look, it's a secret, one that Dumbledore didn't even tell the Order,]" added Ginny.
"[I can tell it's a secret, dear sister, because you won't tell me what it is,]" said George. "[Me! Your own flesh and blood and greatest sibling. And Harry's one short walk between rows of chairs from being family too. Or at least the 'intent' is there.]" George paused, then narrowed his eyes. "[This isn't like that diary, is it? Oh, for Merlin's sake! You're going to have to do better than to suddenly give each other meaningful looks! I'm right, aren't I? 'Course I am - bloody genius, if I have to say it myself.]"
Harry wished that Wormtail would start twitching again. He could use the distraction. "[Yeah, all right. It's, erm, a bit like the diary.]"
"[What's it do, then?]" prompted George.
"[Do?]"
"[What's the point of coming all the way out here unless this mysterious item was actually going to be used somehow? You really are pants at this.]"
Or maybe, considered Harry, the Weasley twins were just a bit sharper than most other wizards. At least when they were apart. Harry had to wonder if they would have made it at all without George. And, they had found Wormtail straight away, which was amazing. "[It, er, sort of... holds him together?]"
"[The glue pot of evil? The Unforgivable Spellotape? Wait, don't tell me - it's You-Know-Who's hairy heart?]" guessed George.
"[No, nothing like - wait, what? His hairy heart? Where in Merlin's name did that come from?]" asked Harry. It was easier to change the topic than to work out how much to give away. He rather suspected that George would work it all out no matter what Harry told him.
"[It's from that book of fairy tales. You know, 'The Warlock's Hairy Heart', 'Babbitty Rabbitty', 'The Three Brothers'. Mum must have read them to us a million times. Your Mum -]" said Ron before stopping himself. "[Sorry, mate,]" he mumbled.
"[Well done, Ron. Treacle 's like water compared to you,]" said Ginny. "[Go and find Hermione. You know, someone actually useful.]"
An awkward silence fell, broken only when Harry stupefied Wormtail again. He was almost certain the man had moved, a little, and Ron's slip had been a reminder of all he had lost. Harry found himself willing Pettigrew to twitch again.
v - v - v - v - v
Gabrielle slipped into her tent intending to collapse onto her bed after what she had decided was an unanticipated and particularly grueling Divining Arts practical. She and the older girl had spent what felt like hours taking turns at the crystal under the watchful, judgemental eyes of the older witches. The older girl, whose name was Marmelle - that was at least how Madame Bazoobas, who was never properly introduced, addressed her - was quick to get the crystal to show something. Gabrielle's efforts took longer, but were clearer and more vivid. And were mostly about cats, due to her grounding in the sensory humours and the unfortunate plaster. She learned, though, that the late Madame Chouisse's cat was -called- Mumum. Gabrielle had always thought the kindly old witch was just clearing her throat.
Gabrielle was also able to do some proper scrying as well, the ladle being used only once or twice - no more than a handful of times. That was easily matched by Marmelle, though. She seemed very pleased about her efforts, or about who had needed the ladle. The dark-clad girl was taken aback, however, when Gabrielle was 'encouraged' into the chant used during seances.
It was all bone-wearingly exhausting, and Gabrielle was looking forward to her bed. Which is why she did not see Ginny in time, who bowled Gabrielle over as the redhead ran past looking green in the face. The floor was not her bed, but Gabrielle decided that it was closer, so she just lay where she fell. She was not hurt, just numb with fatigue. Harry Potter, even with her eyes closed Gabrielle knew it would be him, leaped over Gabrielle's prone form in pursuit. That reminded her of the cold chill descending upon her in Nona's cottage, and her second prophecy.
There once was a girl from France,
who found herself a beau at a dance.
Splintered soul, rat and toad - for Harry,
or end of the world - quite scary!
Much worse than having no pants.
Which, now that it replayed in Gabrielle's head, did not sound like a proper prophecy at all. And splintered did not make any more sense than spinster. Why, wondered Gabrielle, were these in English anyway? Was there, perhaps, a way to put in a polite request to change the spirit one channelled? Perhaps there was a department at the Ministry?
Harry passed by again, looking upset. Gabrielle decided that he was very upset, since that explained why he did not take notice of her. Ginny was hanging off Harry, and now looked very pale. She did not notice Gabrielle either, but then she did look like she would have trouble standing on her own.
"[So... This means the Dark Wanker isn't happy?]" said Ron, nodding toward his sister.
"[I'm all right now,]" quivered Ginny.
"[I hate that that happens,]" said Harry.
"[Din-oop. Nin nin nin enk pog.]" This was a stranger's voice, and stranger language, that Gabrielle did not recognize.
"[Bit of an improvement, but I don't think you've got it quite yet,]" critiqued George. He had, thought Gabrielle, not seen her arrive, or the dress was so ugly that no one could look at her directly for long.
"[Well I am sorry. I'm doing the best I can, but you needn't have gotten your wands up into his ear canal,]" said an exasperated Hermione. "[I'm sure the effects will wear off; I just don't know if it'll be this month!]"
"[Dar dar dar keen-do hop hop. Hop.]"
"[Stupefy.]"
"[Keen-do hop hop, eh? Well now,]" commented George thoughtfully.
"[Ronald Weasley! If you've undone all my spells, I'll - no, I -won't- ]"
"[Keep your hair on, woman. We already know where he thinks -it- is. What else do we need to know? And I don't really want to hear from the rat, ever.]"
"[Did that actually mean something to you?]" asked Harry, sounding hopeful. Gabrielle realized the strange voice must have been the rat-wizard's. He was not dead? Even, even after the arm?
"[Don't be daft.]" Gabrielle frowned. She would have thought that George would be able to sense her presence. Especially if she was just laying there on the floor this time and not wearing the charmed apron.
"[Well what are we going to do with him now?]" demanded Hermione. "[This is just like the Malfoy situation all over again.]"
"[No it isn't.]"
"[Hang on mo',]" started Ron. "[Why can't it be like Malfoy? I mean, with the potion and all?]"
"[First, that particular potion takes rare ingredients, two of which are on the restricted lists. Those won't be easy to come by at the local muggle markets. And it takes ages to brew,]" explained Hermione.
"[I don't mind helping,]" said Ron. In a slightly deeper voice, noticed Gabrielle.
"[That'll double the time it takes,]" whispered Ginny.
"[I don't believe that I am familiar with the 'Malfoy situation',]" noted George.
"[Ah,]" said Harry. Gabrielle decided two things. The first was that the floor was not that comfortable. The second was that, potion or not, Wormface was not going to stay in -her- tent. There were limits to hospitality, after all, even if Professor Festeller had been the one to extend it. Nona had many barrels - he could stay in one of those. Gabrielle got to her feet.
"[Ah,]" imitated George. "[Another secret, not to be shared with your most capable and trustworthy ally?]"
"[Load of bollocks,]" snorted Ron.
"[Hey!]" exclaimed Ginny. "[I nearly forgot. Gigi's had a prophecy.]"
"[What?]"
"[She, she has?]"
Gabrielle turned to the doubting Hermione. "[I have had two, if you want to know.]"
"[Are they both about Harry?]" asked Ginny.
"[Eh, ze second, it was, eh, more to tell Harry ze first.]"
"[Prophecies come with reminders? Like one of those charmed study guides the insufferable swots use?]" asked George. He had not risen to greet her. He is, thought Gabrielle with a small sigh, completely hopeless.
"[Organization is a key to success,]" said Hermione, half to herself.
"[Not the sign of a mind clinging to the last facade of sanity?]"
"[I've seen your workshop! You sort potion ingredients by size, wings by what side of the beetle they came from.]"
"[What is this prophecy?]" asked Harry without much enthusiasm.
"[That's just to drive Fred mad.]"
"[Well, it was her first one, and she... sort of... can't remember all of it,]" explained Ginny, which Gabrielle supposed was meant to be helpful but really made her sound like an imbecile. "[I thought Hermione might know a memory aid charm or two.]"
"[Why? Because I'm an insufferable swot?]"
"[No, because you actually paid attention in - Oy, where are you going?]"
Gabrielle turned back. "[I am going to change out of zis, zis, eh... zis.]"
"[Why -are- you dressed like that?]" asked Ginny at the very same time George said, "[You look fine.]"
Gabrielle gave him a small smile, but had no doubt that she would not be relying on his sense of style. A second thought made her smile wider: Papa always thought Maman looked very nice, no matter what she wore. It was a sign of affection! Of course, Maman always did look very good. "[I will not be long.]"
Gabrielle was just inside the door to her room when she heard Ginny wonder, "[Why d'you suppose she smells like a cat box?]"
1 It's burned me!
2 Make the tea and we will begin, little one.
