As promised, I'm making my updates more regular. Hooray! /Crowd cheers half-heartedly and random person calls out, "You call this more regular?!"/ Anyway, I hope you guys all enjoy.
Disclaimer: Stressed is Desserts spelled backwards! Makes sense, huh? You know…because desserts make everything better?…I feel like all my disclaimers are going to just become random facts.
…
They moved over the threshold together, gazing around. Regulus's bedroom was slightly smaller than Sirius's, though it had the same sense of former grandeur. Whereas Sirius had sought to advertise his diffidence from the rest of the family, Regulus had striven to emphasize the opposite. The Slytherin colors of emerald and silver were everywhere, draping the bed, the walls, and the windows. The Black family crest was painstakingly painted over the bed, along with its motto, TOUJOURS PUR. Levina squinted up at it, coughing a bit as she breathed in a bit of dust. Beneath the crest was a collection of yellow newspaper cuttings, all stuck together to make a ragged collage. Hermione crossed the room to examine them.
"They're all about Voldemort," she said. "Regulus seems to have been a fan for a few years before he joined the Death Eaters..."
A little puff of dust rose from the bedcovers as she sat down to read the clippings. Harry, meanwhile, was moving across the room in a different direction; he had apparently noticed another photograph: a Hogwarts Quidditch team was smiling and waving out of the frame. Levina followed closely behind him and saw the snakes emblazoned on their chests: Slytherins. Regulus was instantly recognizable as the boy sitting in the middle of the front row: He had the same dark hair and slightly haughty look of his brother, though he was smaller, slighter, and rather less handsome than Sirius had been.
"He played Seeker," said Harry.
"What?" said Hermione vaguely; she was still immersed in Voldemort's press clippings.
"He's sitting in the middle of the front row, that's where the Seeker...Never mind," said Harry, realizing that nobody was listening.
"Not a Beater?" Levina pouted, standing on the tips of her toes for a better look. "Sucks, mate. Seeker's are overrated."
Harry rolled his eyes playfully at her. Ron was on his hands and knees, searching under the wardrobe. Harry looked around the room and approached the desk, frowning at the turned over contents of the drawers. Levina nearly stepped on a smashed ink bottle that had spilled all over the objects within the drawer. She leapt back, tugging her dress aside. "Who's gone through all this junk?" she mumbled.
"There's an easier way," said Hermione, as Harry wiped his inky fingers on his jeans. She raised her wand and said, "Accio Locket!"
Nothing happened. Ron, who had been searching the folds of the faded curtains, looked disappointed.
"Is that it, then? It's not here?"
"Can't be that easy," said Levina.
"Oh, it could still be here, but under counter-enchantments," said Hermione. "Charms to prevent it from being summoned magically, you know."
"Like Voldemort put on the stone basin in the cave," said Harry.
"Right," said Levina.
"How are we supposed to find it then?" asked Ron.
"We search manually," said Hermione.
"That's a good idea," said Ron, rolling his eyes, and he resumed his examination of the curtains.
"Isn't that what we've already been doing?" Levina questioned skeptically as she got on her hands and knees to look under the bed.
They combed every inch of the room for more than an hour, but were forced, finally, to conclude that the locket was not there.
The sun had risen now; its light dazzled them even through the grimy landing windows.
"It could be somewhere else in the house, though," said Hermione in a rallying tone as they walked back downstairs. As Harry, Levina, and Ron had become more discouraged, she seemed to have become more determined. "Whether he'd manage to destroy it or not, he'd want to keep it hidden from Voldemort, wouldn't he? Remember all those awful things we had to get rid of when we were here last time? That clock that shot bolts at everyone and those old robes that tried to strangle Ron; Regulus might have put them there to protect the locket's hiding place, even though we didn't realize it at...at..."
Harry, Levina, and Ron looked at her. She was standing with one foot in midair, with the dumbstruck look of one who had just been Obliviated: her eyes had even drifted out of focus.
"Um…you okay there, Hermione?" said Levina somewhat nervously.
"…at the time," she finished in a whisper.
"Something wrong?" asked Ron.
"There was a locket."
"What?" said Harry, Levina, and Ron together.
"In the cabinet in the drawing room. Nobody could open it. And we...we..."
Levina looked between the three of them, utterly bemused. "Hah?" she said, frowning as a look of understanding crossed Ron and Harry's faces.
"Kreacher nicked loads of things back from us," said Harry, looking determined. "He had a whole stash of stuff in his cupboard in the kitchen. C'mon."
He ran down the stairs taking two steps at a time, the other two thundering along in his wake. Levina hesitated for a moment at the top of the stairs before following behind them, shouting, "I don't get it! What's everyone realized all of a sudden?"
They made so much noise that they woke the portrait of Sirius's mother as they passed through the hall.
"Filth! Mudbloods! Half-breeds! Scum!" she screamed after them.
"I swear I'm going to I swear I'm going to take an axe to your face if you don't shut it!" Levina snarled as they ran by.
They dashed down into the basement kitchen and slammed the door behind them. Harry ran the length of the room, skidded to a halt at the door of Kreacher's cupboard, and wrenched it open. There was the nest of dirty old blankets in which the house-elf had once slept, but they were not longer glittering with the trinkets Kreacher had salvaged. The only thing there was an old copy of Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. Harry snatched up the blankets and shook them. A dead mouse fell out and rolled dismally across the floor. Levina rested her hands on her hips and stared critically at it. Ron groaned as he threw himself into a kitchen chair; Hermione closed her eyes.
"It's not over yet," said Harry, and he raised his voice and called, "Kreacher!"
There was a loud crack and the house elf that Harry had so reluctantly inherited from Sirius appeared out of nowhere in front of the cold and empty fireplace: tiny, half human-sized, his pale skin hanging off him in folds, white hair sprouting copiously from his batlike ears. He was still wearing the filthy rag in which they had first met him, and the contemptuous look he bent upon Harry showed that his attitude to his change of ownership had altered no more than his outfit.
"Master," croaked Kreacher in his bullfrog's voice, and he bowed low; muttering to his knees, "back in my Mistress's old house with the blood-traitor Weasley, Half-breed filth, and the Mudblood—"
Levina ran forward with outstretched hands, intending to wring the creature's neck, but Hermione and Ron seized her shoulders and yanked her back.
"I forbid you to call anyone 'blood traitor' 'Half-breed' or 'Mudblood,'" growled Harry.
"Yes, Master," Kreacher muttered with a low, probably sarcastic bow.
"I've got a question for you," said Harry, peering down at the elf, "and I order you to answer it truthfully. Understand?"
"Yes, Master," said Kreacher, bowing low again. Levina saw his lips moving soundlessly, undoubtedly framing the insults he was now forbidden to utter. She pursed her own lips in distaste.
"Two years ago," said Harry, "there was a big gold locket in the drawing room upstairs. We threw it out. Did you steal it back?"
There was a moment's silence, during which Kreacher straightened up to look Harry full in the face. Then he said, "Yes."
"Where is it now?" asked Harry jubilantly as Ron, Levina, and Hermione looked gleeful.
Kreacher closed his eyes as though he could not bear to see their reactions to his next word.
"Gone."
Levina's heart plummeted in her chest. "What?"
"Gone?" echoed Harry, elation floating out of him, "What do you mean, it's gone?"
The elf shivered. He swayed.
"Kreacher," said Harry fiercely, "I order you—"
"Mundungus Fletcher," croaked the elf, his eyes still tight shut. "Mundungus Fletcher stole it all; Miss Bella's and Miss Cissy's pictures, my Mistress's gloves, the Order of Merlin, First Class, the goblets with the family crest, and—and—"
Kreacher was gulping for air: His hollow chest was rising and falling rapidly, then his eyes flew open and he uttered a bloodcurdling scream. Levina jumped a foot in the air and knocked over a plate on the counter with a loud shatter!
" —and the locket, Master Regulus's locket. Kreacher did wrong, Kreacher failed in his orders!"
Harry reacted instinctively: As Kreacher lunged for the poker standing in the grate, he launched himself upon the elf, flattening him. Hermione's scream mingled with Kreacher's but Harry bellowed louder than both of them: "Kreacher, I order you to stay still!"
He felt the elf freeze and released him. Kreacher lay flat on the cold stone floor, tears gushing from his sagging eyes.
"Harry, let him up!" Hermione whispered.
"Bad idea," said Levina.
"So he can beat himself up with the poker?" snorted Harry, kneeling beside the elf. "I don't think so. Right. Kreacher, I want the truth: How do you know Mundungus Fletcher stole the locket?"
"Kreacher saw him!" gasped the elf as tears poured over his snout and into his mouth full of graying teeth. "Kreacher saw him coming out of Kreacher's cupboard with his hands full of Kreacher's treasures. Kreacher told the sneak thief to stop, but Mundungus Fletcher laughed and r-ran..."
"You called the locket 'Master Regulus's,'" said Harry. "Why? Where did it come from? What did Regulus have to do with it? Kreacher, sit up and tell me everything you know about that locket, and everything Regulus had to do with it!"
The elf sat up, curled into a ball, placed his wet face between his knees, and began to rock backward and forward. Despite how much she'd previously loathed the little twit, Levina couldn't help but feel sympathetic toward the elf now. She frowned down at him with pitying eyes, feeling a strange temptation to reach out and hug him…When he spoke, his voice was muffled but quite distinct in the silent, echoing kitchen.
"Master Sirius ran away, good riddance, for he was a bad boy and broke my Mistress's heart with his lawless ways. But Master Regulus had proper order; he knew what was due to the name of Black and the dignity of his pure blood. For years he talked of the Dark Lord, who was going to bring the wizards out of hiding to rule the Muggles and the Muggle-borns...and when he was sixteen years old, Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord. So proud, so proud, so happy to serve…
"And one day, a year after he joined, Master Regulus came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus always liked Kreacher. And Master Regulus said…he said…"
The old elf rocked faster than ever.
"Said?" Levina urged.
"…he said that the Dark Lord required an elf."
"Voldemort needed an elf?" Harry repeated, looking around at Levina, Ron, and Hermione, who looked just as puzzled as he did.
"Oh yes," moaned Kreacher. "And Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher. It was an honor, said Master Regulus, an honor for him and for Kreacher, who must be sure to do whatever the Dark Lord ordered him to do…and then to c-come home."
Kreacher rocked still faster, his breath coming in sobs.
"So Kreacher went to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord did not tell Kreacher what they were to do, but took Kreacher with him to a cave beside the sea. And beyond the cave was a cavern, and in the cavern was a great black lake ..."
The hairs on the back of Levina's neck stood up and a horrible shiver overtook her frame. She could just about picture the horrible scene playing out in her mind…
"...There was a boat..."
Harry nodded knowingly, but Levina continued to give the elf a baffled stare.
"There was a b-basin full of potion on the island. The D-Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it...
The elf quaked from head to foot.
"Kreacher drank, and as he drank he saw terrible things…Kreacher's insides burned…Kreacher cried for Master Regulus to save him, he cried for his Mistress Black, but the Dark Lord only laughed…He made Kreacher drink all the potion…He dropped a locket into the empty basin…He filled it with more potion."
"And then the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving Kreacher on the island..."
Levina's hands had subconsciously made their way to her mouth in horror. The image he'd set in her head made her feel sick and she backed up into a chair, lowering herself slowly into it as she listened intently to the elf.
"Kreacher needed water, he crawled to the island's edge and he drank from the black lake…and hands, dead hands, came out of the water and dragged Kreacher under the surface..."
"How did you get away?" Harry whispered.
Kreacher raised his ugly head and looked Harry with his great, bloodshot eyes.
"Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back," he said.
"I know—but how did you escape the Inferi?"
Kreacher did not seem to understand.
"Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back," he repeated.
"I know, but—"
"Harry, don't be thick," said Levina, who'd begun to recover from her initial shock, sitting upright in her chair.
"Well, it's obvious, isn't it, Harry?" said Ron. "He Disapparated!"
"But…you couldn't Apparate in and out of that cave," said Harry, "otherwise Dumbledore—"
"Elf magic isn't like wizard's magic, is it?" said Ron, "I mean, they can Apparate and Disapparate in and out of Hogwarts when we can't."
There was a silence.
"Poor thing," Levina mumbled.
"Of course, Voldemort would have considered the ways of house-elves far beneath his notice," said Harry. "It would never have occurred to him that they might have magic that he didn't."
"The house-elf's highest law is his Master's bidding," intoned Kreacher. "Kreacher was told to come home, so Kreacher came home…"
"Well, then, you did what you were told, didn't you?" said Hermione kindly. "You didn't disobey orders at all!"
Kreacher shook his head, rocking as fast as ever.
"So what happened when you got back?" Harry asked. "What did Regulus say when you told him what happened?"
"Master Regulus was very worried, very worried," croaked Kreacher. "Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden and not to leave the house. And then…it was a little while later…Master Regulus came to find Kreacher in his cupboard one night, and Master Regulus was strange, not as he usually was, disturbed in his mind, Kreacher could tell…and he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord..."
"And he made you drink the poison?" said Harry, disgusted.
But Kreacher shook his head and wept. Hermione's hands leapt to her mouth: She seemed to have understood something that Levina didn't.
"M-Master Regulus took from his pocket a locket like the one the Dark Lord had," said Kreacher, tears pouring down either side of his snoutlike nose. "And he told Kreacher to take it and, when the basin was empty, to switch the lockets ..."
Kreacher's sobs came in great rasps now; Levina had to strain her canine hearing in order to hear him clearly.
"And he order—Kreacher to leave—without him. And he told Kreacher—to go home—and never to tell my Mistress—what he had done—but to destroy—the first locket. And he drank—all the potion—and Kreacher swapped the lockets—and watched…as Master Regulus…was dragged beneath the water…and..."
"Oh, Kreacher!" wailed Hermione, who was crying. Even Levina had traces of tears clinging to her eyelashes. Hermione dropped to her knees beside the elf and tried to hug him. At once he was on his feet, cringing away from her, quite obviously repulsed.
"The Mudblood touched Kreacher, he will not allow it, what would his Mistress say?"
"I told you not to call her 'Mudblood'!" snarled Harry, but the elf was already punishing himself. He fell to the ground and banged his forehead on the floor.
"Hey, wait, Kreacher, no—" Levina protested immediately.
"Stop him—stop him!" Hermione cried. "Oh, don't you see now how sick it is, the way they've got to obey?"
"Kreacher—stop, stop!" shouted Harry.
The elf lay on the floor, panting and shivering, green mucus glistening around his snout, a bruise already blooming on his pallid forehead where he had struck himself, his eyes swollen and bloodshot and swimming in tears. Levina had never seen anything so pitiful.
"So you brought the locket home," Harry said relentlessly. Levina shot him a glare; she found it cruel that Harry be pushing the elf so far, given the state that the poor creature was currently in. "And you tried to destroy it?"
"Nothing Kreacher did made any mark upon it," moaned the elf. "Kreacher tried everything, everything he knew, but nothing, nothing would work…So many powerful spells upon the casing, Kreacher was sure the way to destroy it was to get inside it, but it would not open…Kreacher punished himself, he tried again, he punished himself, he tried again. Kreacher failed to obey orders, Kreacher could not destroy the locket! And his mistress was mad with grief, because Master Regulus had disappeared and Kreacher could not tell her what had happened, no, because Master Regulus had f-f-forbidden him to tell any of the f-f-family what happened in the c-cave…"
Kreacher began to sob so hard that there were no more coherent words. Tears flowed down Hermione's cheeks as she watched Kreacher, but she did not dare touch him again. Even Ron, who was no fan of Kreacher's, looked troubled. Harry sat back on his heels and shook his head. Levina sunk onto her knees and folded her hands in her lap, her expression dismal. The worst part was that she knew the elf was telling the truth—not once had her Wary Bangle felt hot against her wrist since they'd met him, not in the least.
"I don't understand you, Kreacher," he said finally. "Voldemort tried to kill you, Regulus died to bring Voldemort down, but you were still happy to betray Sirius to Voldemort? You were happy to go to Narcissa and Bellatrix, and pass information to Voldemort through them..."
"Harry, Kreacher doesn't think like that," said Hermione, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. "He's a slave; house-elves are used to bad, even brutal treatment; what Voldemort did to Kreacher wasn't that far out of the common way. What do wizard wars mean to an elf like Kreacher? He's loyal to people who are kind to him, and Mrs. Black must have been, and Regulus certainly was, so he served them willingly and parroted their beliefs. I know what you're going to say," she went on as Harry began to protest, "that Regulus changed his mind…but he doesn't seem to have explained that to Kreacher, does he? And I think I know why. Kreacher and Regulus's family were all safest if they kept to the old pure-blood line. Regulus was trying to protect them all."
"Sirius—"
"Sirius was horrible to Kreacher, Harry, and it's no good looking like that, you know it's true. Kreacher had been alone for such a long time when Sirius came to live here, and he was probably starving for a bit of affection. I'm sure 'Miss Cissy,' 'Miss L' and 'Miss Bella' were perfectly lovely to Kreacher when he turned up, so he did them a favor and told them everything they wanted to know. I've said all along that wizards would pay for how they treat house-elves. Well, Voldemort did…and so did Sirius."
Harry didn't answer her. Levina felt queasy. Had Sirius really been so cruel to Kreacher? She couldn't process the thought in her mind, of loving, friendly Sirius Black torturing and abusing a house elf. They'd barely begun the day, yet she already wanted to crawl under a rock and never come out again.
"Kreacher," said Harry after a while, "when you feel up to it, er…please sit up."
It was several minutes before Kreacher hiccupped himself into silence. Then he pushed himself into a sitting position again, rubbing his knuckles into his eyes like a small child.
"Kreacher, I am going to ask you to do something," said Harry. He glanced at Hermione for assistance and she smiled encouragingly. "Kreacher, I want you, please, to go and find Mundungus Fletcher. We need to find out where the locket —where Master Regulus's locket it. It's really important. We want to finish the work Master Regulus started, we want to—er—ensure that he didn't die in vain."
Kreacher dropped his fists and looked up at Harry.
"Find Mundungus Fletcher?" he croaked.
"Yeah, the thieving little rodent, remember?" said Levina helpfully.
"And bring him here, to Grimmauld Place," said Harry. "Do you think you could do that for us?"
As Kreacher nodded and got to his feet, Harry pulled out Hagrid's purse and took out the fake Horcrux, the substitute locket in which Regulus had placed the note to Voldemort.
"Kreacher, I'd, er, like you to have this," he said, pressing the locket into the elf's hand. "This belonged to Regulus and I'm sure he'd want you to have it as a token of gratitude for what you—"
"Whoopsie," said Levina as the elf took one look at the locket, let out a howl of shock and misery, and threw himself back onto the ground. "I think that was a bit much."
"Overkill, mate," said Ron.
It took them nearly half an hour to calm down Kreacher, who was so overcome to be presented with a Black family heirloom for his very own that he was too weak at the knees to stand properly. When finally he was able to totter a few steps they all accompanied him to his cupboard, watched him tuck up the locket safely in his dirty blankets, and assured him that they would make its protection their first priority while he was away. He then made two low bows to Harry and Ron, and even gave a funny little spasm in Hermione's and Levina's direction that might have been an attempt at a respectful salute, before Disapparating with the usual loud crack.
…
Harry was in good spirits for the majority of the day, awaiting Kreacher's return, but Levina was skeptical; even if Kreacher did find Mundungus, how would he be able to convince him to come with him? Kidnap him? The idea of the little elf bounding a wizard's hands and gagging him made for an amusing image in Levina's head, but seemed highly unlikely.
However, Kreacher did not return that morning or even that afternoon. By nightfall, Harry looked thoroughly discouraged and anxious, and a supper composed largely of moldy bread, upon which Hermione had tried a variety of unsuccessful Transfigurations, did nothing to help. Levina sat in front of it, staring longingly at the loaf as she wished she'd eaten more cake at the wedding.
Kreacher did not return the following day, nor the day after that. However, two cloaked men had appeared in the square outside number twelve, and they remained there into the night, gazing in the direction of the house that they could not see.
"Death Eaters, for sure," said Ron, as he, Harry, Levina, and Hermione watched from the drawing room windows. "Reckon they know we're in here?"
"I don't think so," said Hermione, though she looked frightened, "or they'd have sent Snape in after us, wouldn't they?"
"Most likely, but…It's still so creepy," shuddered Levina, peering out the window with her hands and cheeks pressed against the glass.
"D'you reckon Snape's been in here and has his tongue tied by Moody's curse?" asked Ron.
"Yes," said Hermione, "otherwise he'd have been able to tell that lot how to get in, wouldn't he? But they're probably watching to see whether we turn up. They know that Harry owns the house, after all."
"How do they—?" began Harry.
"Wizarding wills are examined by the Ministry, remember? They'll know Sirius left you the place."
Levina rested her chin on her arms. This thought brought her no comfort and only stole yet another night's sleep away from her.
The presence of the Death Eaters outside increased the ominous mood inside number twelve. They had not heard a word form anyone beyond Grimmauld Place since Mr. Weasley's Patronus, and the strain was starting to tell. Restless and irritable, Ron had developed an annoying habit of playing with the Deluminator in his pocket; This particularly infuriated Hermione, who was whiling away the wait for Kreacher by studying The Tales of Beedle the Bard and did not appreciate the way the lights kept flashing on and off.
"Will you stop it!" she cried on the third evening of Kreacher's absence, as all the light was sucked from the drawing room yet again.
"Sorry, sorry!" said Ron, clicking the Deluminator and restoring the lights. "I don't know I'm doing it!"
"Well, can't you find something useful to occupy yourself?"
"What, like reading kids' stories?"
"Dumbledore left me this book, Ron —"
" —and he left me the Deluminator, maybe I'm supposed to use it!"
Unable to stand the bickering, Harry slipped out of the room unnoticed by either of them. Levina, however, saw him leave and hesitated. She looked between Ron and Hermione, heaved a sigh, and followed after him, fingering the Wary Bangle and wondering whether it had any real purpose to her or not.
Harry had begun to descend the stairs to the kitchen, most likely to see if Kreacher had come back yet. Levina rolled her eyes, knowing full well that they would have heard a commotion had the elf returned with Dung. Halfway down the flight of stairs into the hall, however, Levina heard a tap on the front door, then metallic clicks and the grinding of the chain. She froze on the steps behind Harry, petrified with sudden alarm.
Harry drew his wand, glanced over his shoulder to Levina, motioned for her to move, and slipped into the shadows beside the decapitated elf heads. Levina pulled out her wand in turn and aimed it. Her heartbeat had quickened to a frightened rabbit's pace now.
The door opened: Levina saw a glimpse of the lamplit square outside, and a cloaked figure edged into the hall and closed the door behind it. The intruder took a step forward, and Moody's voice asked, "Severus Snape?" Then the dust figure rose from the end of the hall and rushed him, raising its dead hand.
"It was not I who killed you, Albus," said a quiet voice.
The jinx broke: The dust-figure exploded again, and it was impossible to make out the newcomer through the dense gray cloud it left behind. On instinct, Levina screamed and shielded her face from the smoke. Then, head leveling, she charged, aiming her wand at the intruder.
Harry pointed the wand into the middle of it.
"Don't move!"
At the sound of their yells, the curtains hiding her flew open and Mrs. Black began to scream, "Mudbloods and filth dishonoring my house —"
Levina's hold on her wand suddenly faltered as something dawned on her: The Wary Bangle had remained cold and lifeless against her skin, not heated in the way it should be if there was someone mistrustful nearby...In fact, if anything, it felt colder against her wrist.
"Harry, Harry wait—" Levina insisted, suddenly lowering her wand.
"What?"
"Whoever's in here's not—"
But Ron and Hermione came crashing down the stairs behind Harry, wands pointing, like theirs, at the unknown man now standing with his arms raised in the hall below.
"Hold your fire, it's me, Remus!"
"Oh, thank goodness," said Hermione weakly, pointing her wand at Mrs. Black instead; with a bang, the curtains swished shut again and silence fell. Ron too lowered his wand, but Harry did not.
"Show yourself!" he called back.
"Harry, it's him," Levina insisted as she stowed away her wand in her pocket. "The Wary Bangle…"
Lupin moved forward into the lamplight regardless, hands still held high in a gesture of surrender.
"I am Remus John Lupin, werewolf, sometimes known as Moony, one of the four creators of the Marauder's Map, married to Nymphadora, usually known as Tonks, I taught you how to produce a Patronus, Harry, which takes the form of a stag, and I was the one who explained to you that you were a Werewolf, Levina."
"Oh, all right," said Harry, lowering his wand, "but I had to check, didn't I?"
"Speaking as your ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, I quite agree that you had to check. Ron, Levina, Hermione, you shouldn't be so quick to lower your defenses."
"It's not that," Levina protested with a huff, offended by his accusation. "The Bangle I'm wearing wasn't going haywire, so I figured it had to be someone trustworthy."
Ron and Hermione ran down the stairs towards him. Wrapped in a thick black traveling cloak, he looked exhausted, but pleased to see them.
"Ah," he said, in regard to Levina's defensiveness. Then: "No sign of Severus, then?"
"No," said Harry. "What's going on? Is everyone okay?"
"Yes," said Lupin, "but we're all being watched. There are a couple of Death Eaters in the square outside —"
"Yeah—"
"We know —"
"I had to Apparate very precisely onto the top step outside the front door to be sure that they would not see me. They can't know you're in here or I'm sure they'd have more people out there; they're staking out everywhere that's got any connection with you two, Harry, Levina. Let's go downstairs, there's a lot to tell you, and I want to know what happened after you left the Burrow."
"Wait, so suddenly I'm all-important again?" Levina demanded, partly annoyed. "Fantastic."
They descended into the kitchen, where Hermione pointed her wand at the grate. A fire sprang up instantly: It gave the illusion of coziness to the stark stone walls and glistened off the long wooden table. Lupin pulled a few butterbeers from beneath his traveling cloak and they sat down.
"I'd have been here three days ago but I needed to shake off the Death Eater tailing me," said Lupin. "So, you came straight here after the wedding?"
Levina shook her head as she gulped down her Butterbeer. "Nope."
"No," Harry confirmed, "only after we ran into a couple of Death Eaters in a cafe on Tottenham Court Road."
Lupin slopped most of his butterbeer down his front.
"What?"
They explained what had happened; when they had finished, Lupin looked aghast.
"But how did they find you so quickly? It's impossible to track anyone who Apparates, unless you grab hold of them as they disappear."
"And it doesn't seem likely they were just strolling down Tottenham Court Road at the time, does it?" said Harry.
"We wondered," said Hermione tentatively, "whether Harry could still have the Trace on him?"
"Hermione, we already told you, he can't have it still!" said Levina insistently.
"Impossible," Lupin agreed. Ron looked smug, and Harry felt hugely relieved. "Apart from anything else, they'd know for sure Harry was here if he still had the Trace on him, wouldn't they? But I can't see how they could have tracked you to Tottenham Court Road, that's worrying, really worrying."
He looked disturbed, but Levina figured that this situation was the least of their problems.
"Tell us what happened after we left, we haven't heard a thing since Ron's dad told us the family was safe."
"Well, Kingsley saved us," said Lupin. "Thanks to his warning most of the wedding guests were able to Disapparate before they arrived."
"Is Fred all right?" Levina blurted out before she could stop herself. Lupin regarded her with a calm look.
"Yes, he's fine," Lupin assured her, and Levina exhaled a sigh of relief. "No need for that apprehensive expression you've got going on there."
"Wait, what about Lilypad? And Athena?" Amidst her panic toward her friends and family, Levina had completely forgotten about her pets. A stir of guilt plagued her stomach.
"Your cat?" Lupin asked.
Levina nodded. "And owl. And Pygmy Puff, too…Fred." She cleared her throat. "Fred the Pygmy puff."
Lupin smiled faintly. "Yes, I believe your cousins have them somewhere safe right now."
Relieved again, Levina sank in her chair. Given that Eric and Destiny cared for dragons most of the time, she had no anxiety about them keeping her pets safe from harm and well-kept.
"Were they Death Eaters or Ministry people?" interjected Hermione.
"A mixture; but to all intents and purposes they're the same thing now," said Lupin. "There were about a dozen of them, but they didn't know you two were there. Arthur heard a rumor that they tried to torture your whereabouts out of Scrimgeour before they killed him; if it's true, he didn't give you two away."
Levina looked around at Ron, Harry, and Hermione; their expressions reflected the mingled shock and gratitude she felt. She had never liked Scrimgeour much, but if what Lupin said was true, the man's final act had been to try to protect them. She felt bad for him, guilty even, but at the same time, couldn't forgive his rude and abrupt actions from before.
"The Death Eaters searched the Burrow from top to bottom," Lupin went on. "They found the ghoul, but didn't want to get too close —and then they interrogated those of us who remained for hours. They were trying to get information on you, Harry, but of course nobody apart from the Order knew that you had been there.
"At the same time that they were smashing up the wedding, more Death Eaters were forcing their way into every Order-connected house in the country. No deaths," he added quickly, forestalling the question, "but they were rough. They burned down Dedalus Diggle's house, but as you know he wasn't there, and they used the Cruciarus Curse on Tonks's family. Again, trying to find out where you two went after you visited them. They're all right—shaken, obviously, but otherwise okay."
"Oh, God," Levina murmured. She'd felt a taste of the Cruciatus Curse before and therefore sympathized with anyone who was put through it. Guilt for no real apparent reason crept into her throat; it was her fault they were being tortured…Her fault because they were tailing Harry and Levina, not Tonks' family…She folded her hands in her lap and stared blankly down at them.
"The Death Eaters got through all those protective charms?" Harry asked.
"What you've got to realize, Harry, is that the Death Eaters have got the full might of the Ministry on their side now," said Lupin. "They've got the power to perform brutal spells without fear of identification or arrest. They managed to penetrate every defensive spell we'd cast against them, and once inside, they were completely open about why they'd come."
"And are they bothering to give an excuse for torturing Harry and Levina's whereabouts out of people?" asked Hermione, an edge to her voice.
"Well," Lupin said. He hesitated, then pulled out a folded copy of the Daily Prophet. "Here," he said, pushing it across the table to Harry, "you'll know sooner or later anyway. That's their pretext for going after you."
Harry smoothed out the paper and Levina peered over his shoulder for a better look. A huge photograph of Harry and Levina's faces filled the front page. She read the headline over it:
WANTED FOR QUESTIONING ABOUT THE DEATH OF ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
Ron and Hermione gave roars of outrage, but Harry said nothing. Levina merely snorted and shoved the paper away, rolling her eyes. "Dumbasses," she commented. "That's a poor excuse." She knew it had something to do with the fact that she and Harry were among some of the only people who actually witnessed Dumbledore's death.
"I'm sorry," Lupin said.
"So Death Eaters have taken over the Daily Prophet too?" asked Hermione furiously.
Lupin nodded.
"But surely people realize what's going on?"
"The coup has been smooth and virtually silent," said Lupin.
"The official version of Scrimgeour's murder is that he resigned; he has been replaced by Pius Thicknesse, who is under the Imperius Curse."
"Why didn't Voldemort declare himself Minister of Magic?" asked Ron.
Lupin laughed.
"He doesn't need to, Ron. Effectively, he is the Minister, but why should he sit behind a desk at the Ministry? His puppet, Thicknesse, is taking care of everyday business, leaving Voldemort free to extend his power beyond the Ministry.
"Naturally many people have deduced what has happened: There has been such a dramatic change in Ministry policy in the last few days, and many are whispering that Voldemort must be behind it. However, that is the point: They whisper. They daren't confide in each other, not knowing whom to trust; they are scared to speak out, in case their suspicions are true and their families are targeted. Yes, Voldemort is playing a very clever game. Declaring himself might have provoked open rebellion: Remaining masked has created confusion, uncertainty, and fear."
"And this dramatic change in Ministry policy," said Harry, "involves warning the Wizarding world against me instead of Voldemort?"
"That's certainly a part of it," said Lupin, "and it is a masterstroke. Now that Dumbledore is dead, you—the Boy Who Lived—were sure to be the symbol and rallying point for any resistance to Voldemort. But by suggesting that you had a hand in the old hat's death, Voldemort has not only set a price upon your head, but sown doubt and fear amongst many who would have defended you."
"But why me too, then?" Levina demanded.
"Because for one, you're on Harry's side, which would help his case and ruin Voldemort's intentions, and for two, you were also there the night it happened. You were witness to it and are therefore being dragged into the situation…Not to mention the fact that Voldemort's wanted you for so long anyway…"
With an irritable cough, Levina folded her arms over her chest and glared at the ceiling, as though it had done her wrong. "Riiiight. That."
"Meanwhile, the Ministry has started moving against Muggle-borns."
Levina's eyes immediately popped over to Hermione. Lupin pointed at the Daily Prophet.
"Look at page two."
Hermione turned the pages with much the same expression of distaste she had when handling Secrets of the Darkest Art.
"Muggle-born Register!" she read aloud. "'The Ministry of Magic is undertaking a survey of so-called "Muggle-borns" the better to understand how they came to possess magical secrets."
"What!" Levina shouted, slamming her hands down on the table and standing up now.
"'Recent research undertaken by the Department of Mysteries reveals that magic can only be passed from person to person when Wizards reproduce. Where no proven Wizarding ancestry exists, therefore, the so-called Muggle-born is likely to have obtained magical power by theft or force.
"'The Ministry is determined to root out such usurpers of magical power, and to this end has issued an invitation to every so-called Muggle-born to present themselves for interview by the newly appointed Muggle-born Registration Commission.'"
"People won't let this happen," said Ron.
"It is happening, Ron," said Lupin. "Muggle-borns are being rounded up as we speak."
"But how are they supposed to have 'stolen' magic?" said Ron. "It's mental, if you could steal magic there wouldn't be any Squibs, would there?"
"I know," said Lupin. "Nevertheless, unless you can prove that you have at least one close Wizarding relative, you are now deemed to have obtained your magical power illegally and must suffer the punishment."
Ron glanced at Hermione, then said, "What if purebloods and halfbloods swear a Muggle-born's part of their family? I'll tell everyone Hermione's my cousin—"
Hermione covered Ron's hand with hers and squeezed it. The edges of Levina's lips quirked upward into a small smirk.
"Thank you, Ron, but I couldn't let you —"
"You won't have a choice," said Ron fiercely, gripping her hand back. "I'll teach you my family tree so you can answer questions on it."
Hermione gave a shaky laugh.
"Ron, as we're on the run with Harry Potter, the most wanted person in the country, I don't think it matters. If I was going back to school it would be different."
"You could always be my sister," Levina offered with a grin. "But you'd have to be a Werewolf…Or, you could always be my cousin. Sirens are fun."
Hermione laughed, rolling her eyes, but she blushed a bit. Levina had a feeling she was thinking of Eric. "What's Voldemort planning for Hogwarts?" she asked Lupin, changing the subject.
"Attendance is now compulsory for every young witch and wizard," he replied. "That was announced yesterday. It's a change, because it was never obligatory before. Of course, nearly every witch and wizard in Britain has been educated at Hogwarts, but their parents had the right to teach them at home or send them abroad if they preferred. This way, Voldemort will have the whole Wizarding population under his eye from a young age. And it's also another way of weeding out Muggle-borns, because students must be given Blood Status—meaning that they have proven to the Ministry that they are of Wizard descent—before they are allowed to attend."
Levina felt sickened and angry: At this moment, excited eleven-year-olds would be poring over stacks of newly purchased spell-books, unaware that they would never see Hogwarts, perhaps never see their families again either.
"It's...it's..." Harry muttered, struggling to find words that did justice to the horror of his thoughts, but Lupin said quietly, "I know."
"Revolting?" Levina suggested. "Disgusting, awful, cruel, inhuman? Take your pick."
Lupin hesitated. "I'll understand if you can't confirm this, Harry, but the Order is under the impression that Dumbledore left you a mission."
"He did," Harry replied, "and Ron, Levina, and Hermione are in on it and they're coming with me."
"Can you confide in me what the mission is?"
Harry looked into the prematurely lined face, framed in thick but graying hair. Levina's eyes fell to her lap.
"I can't, Remus, I'm sorry. If Dumbledore didn't tell you I don't think I can."
"I thought you'd say that," said Lupin, looking disappointed. "But I might still be of some use to you. You know what I am and what I can do. I could come with you to provide protection. There would be no need to tell me exactly what you were up to."
Harry hesitated, clearly tempted by the offer. Levina fiddled silently with her hands.
Hermione, however, looked puzzled. "But what about Tonks?" she asked.
"What about her?" said Lupin.
"Well," said Hermione, frowning, "you're married! How does she feel about you going away with us?"
"Tonks will be perfectly safe," said Lupin, "She'll be at her parents' house."
There was something strange in Lupin's tone, it was almost cold. There was also something odd in the idea of Tonks remaining hidden at her parents' house; she was, after all, a member of the Order and, as far as Levina knew, was likely to want to be in the thick of the action.
"Remus," said Hermione tentatively, "is everything all right... you know... between you and—"
"Everything is fine, thank you," said Lupin pointedly.
Hermione turned pink. Levina squinted at him suspiciously. There was another pause, an awkward and embarrassed one, and then Lupin said, with an air of forcing himself to admit something unpleasant, "Tonks is going to have a baby."
"A baby!" Levina repeated in awe, as though she'd never heard of such a thing. "That's brilliant, Lupin!"
"Oh, how wonderful!" squealed Hermione.
"Excellent!" said Ron enthusiastically.
"Congratulations," said Harry.
Lupin gave an artificial smile that was more like a grimace, then said, "So... do you accept my offer? Will four become five? I cannot believe that Dumbledore would have disapproved, he appointed me your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, after all. And I must tell you that I believe we are facing magic many of us have never encountered or imagined."
Ron and Hermione both looked at Harry expectantly. Levina followed their gaze between Lupin and Harry, brown eyes uncertain.
"Just—just to be clear," Harry said. "You want to leave Tonks at her parents' house and come away with us?"
"She'll be perfectly safe there, they'll look after her," said Lupin. He spoke with a finality bordering on indifference: "Harry, I'm sure James would have wanted me to stick with you. Rick too, Levina."
"Well," said Harry slowly, "I'm not. I'm pretty sure my father would have wanted to know why you aren't sticking with your own kid, actually."
Lupin's face drained of color. The temperature in the kitchen might have dropped ten degrees. Ron stared around the room as though he had been bidden to memorize it, while Hermione's eyes swiveled backward and forward from Harry to Lupin. Levina gave a very low, faint whistle and stared at the ground as though she found it incredibly fascinating.
"You don't understand," said Lupin at last.
"Explain, then," said Harry.
Lupin swallowed.
"I—I made a grave mistake in marrying Tonks. I did it against my better judgment and have regretted it very much every since."
"You're calling a baby a mistake?" said Levina softly.
"I see," said Harry, "so you're just going to dump her and the kid and run off with us?"
Lupin sprang to his feet: His chair toppled over backward, and he glared at them so fiercely that Levina saw, for the first time ever, the shadow of the wolf upon his human face. She imagined it was something akin to how she looked when she was enraged.
"Don't you understand what I've done to my wife and my unborn child? I should never have married her; I've made her an outcast!"
Lupin kicked aside the chair he had overturned.
"You have only ever seen me amongst the Order, or under Dumbledore's protection at Hogwarts! You don't know how most of the Wizarding world sees creatures like me! When they know of my affliction, they can barely talk to me! Don't you see what I've done?
"Even her own family is disgusted by our marriage, what parents want their only daughter to marry a werewolf? And the child—the child —"
Lupin actually seized handfuls of his own hair; he looked quite deranged.
"My kind don't usually breed! It will be like me, I am convinced of it —how can I forgive myself, when I knowingly risked passing on my own condition to an innocent child? And if, by some miracle, it is not like me, then it will be better off, a hundred times so, without a father of whom it must always be ashamed!"
Levina stood, eyes flaming. "Excuse me, but aren't we forgetting that a certain someone happened to pass on her condition to her child?" she shouted angrily, and Lupin's gaze softened a bit into one of almost guilt. "And excuse me, but are you suggesting that I'm some sort of mistake? That Nadia SnowPetal never should have 'reproduced'?"
"Levina, stop!" whispered Hermione, tears in her eyes. "And Remus, don't say that —how could any child be ashamed of you?"
"Oh, I don't know, Hermione," said Harry. "I'd be pretty ashamed of him."
Lupin looked as though Harry had hit him.
"I can't believe the nerve of you," Levina snapped, hands balling into fists. "I'm not ashamed of my mother in any way, shape, or form! I'm proud to be her daughter, and—and I'm proud to be a Werewolf, too, if it means that I'm more like her!"
"Levina—this is different, it's not—" Lupin spluttered.
"If the new regime thinks Muggle-borns are bad," Harry said, "what will they do to a half-werewolf whose father's in the Order? My father died trying to protect my mother and me, and you reckon he'd tell you to abandon your kid to go on an adventure with us?"
"How—how dare you?" said Lupin. "This is not about a desire for—for danger or personal glory—how dare you suggest such a—"
"I think you're feeling a bit of a daredevil," Harry said, "You fancy stepping into Sirius's shoes —"
"Harry, no!" Hermione begged him, but he continued to glare into Lupin's livid face.
"You two are crossing a line—"
"Oh, we're crossing a line?" Levina demanded. "Why don't you ask my mum to come back from the dead to apologize for falling in love and giving birth to me, huh?" Levina shrieked over Hermione. "'Oh, I'm so sorry you were born, Levina! My mistake!' And what, are you saying I shouldn't ever have any kids because of what I am?" Her mind subconsciously flew to Fred.
"Levina, please—" Hermione begged.
"I'd never have believed this," Harry said. "The man who taught me to fight dementors—a coward."
Lupin drew his wand so fast that Harry had barely reached for his own; there was a loud bang and he went flying backward as if punched; he slammed into the kitchen wall and slid to the floor as Lupin disappeared around the corner.
"Remus, Remus, come back!" Hermione cried, but Lupin did not respond. A moment later they heard the front door slam.
"Good riddance!" Levina screamed after him.
"Harry, Levina!" wailed Hermione. "How could you?"
"It was easy," said Harry. He stood up, shaking with anger. "Don't look at me like that!" he snapped at Hermione.
"Don't you start on her!" snarled Ron.
"No—no—we mustn't fight!" said Hermione, launching herself between them.
"You shouldn't have said that stuff to Lupin," Ron told Harry and Levina.
"He had it coming to him," said Harry.
"Hermione, he was basically calling me a mistake and saying my mother was a fool!" said Levina, still fuming.
"Levina, I'm sure he didn't mean—"
"Parents," said Harry, "shouldn't leave their kids unless—unless they've got to."
"Harry—" said Hermione, stretching out a consoling hand, but he shrugged it off and walked away, his eyes on the fire Hermione had conjured. Neither Ron nor Hermione spoke. Levina leaned against the wall behind her, arms folded, and shut her eyes, attempting to calm herself. She couldn't let herself fly off the handle, or…
She shuddered and tightened her grip on her own shoulders.
Harry turned abruptly to face them after a moment. "I know I shouldn't have called him a coward."
"No, you shouldn't," said Ron at once.
"But he's acting like one."
"All the same..." said Hermione.
"I know," said Harry. "But if it makes him go back to Tonks, it'll be worth it, won't it?"
Hermione looked sympathetic, Ron uncertain. Harry looked down at his feet, deep in thought, and Levina sighed heavily.
"Yes, it was," she whispered in agreement.
The silent kitchen seemed to hum with the shock of the recent scene and with Ron and Hermione's unspoken reproaches. The Daily Prophet Lupin had brought was still lying on the table. Harry walked over to it and sat down, opened the paper at random, and appeared to begin reading.
Levina fidgeted uncomfortably, listening to the increasingly loud ticking of the nearest clock on the wall. She chewed her lip and flexed her fingers, trying to distract herself from the current situation…But all she could think about was Fred. They were far too young to be thinking about marriage and…well, kids. Having kids. The childish blush that crossed Levina's face was enough to assert her thoughts. Yet the ever-pressing thought in her mind continued to haunt her—what if Fred didn't want them to have kids? What if he was afraid of passing on the genes, of making their children turn out like her? What if he realized they'd be like her? And how animalistic she was, too? And then leave her, and not want to talk to her ever again and—
…This was getting out of hand. Levina breathed deeply, realizing her anxiety had been escalating. Dwelling on this wasn't doing her any favors. She was about to head into the living room to lie down when a deafening crack echoed around the kitchen.
Already on-edge and jumpy from their previous encounter with Lupin, Levina whipped around, wand out, eyes wide and face pale as paper. But to both her surprise and relief, there was no intruder—just Kreacher. The elf disentangled himself and, bowing low to Harry, croaked, "Kreacher has returned with the thief Mundungus Fletcher, Master."
Mundungus Fletcher scrambled up and pulled out his wand; Hermione, however, was too quick for him.
"Expelliarmus!"
Mundungus's wand soared into the air, and Hermione caught it. Wild-eyed, Mundungus dived for the stairs. Ron rugby-tackled him and Mundungus hit the stone floor with a muffled crunch. Levina pinned him to the floor with one of her feet, pressing her shoe into his shoulder with unnecessary force.
"What?" he bellowed, writhing in his attempts to free himself from Ron's grip. "Wha've I done? Setting a bleedin' 'house-elf on me, what are you playing at, wha've I done, lemme go, lemme go, of—"
"You're not in much of a position to make threats," said Harry. He threw aside the newspaper, crossed the kitchen in a few strides, and dropped to his knees beside Mundungus, who stopped struggling and looked terrified. Ron got up, panting, and watched as Harry pointed his wand deliberately at Mundungus's nose. Mundungus stank of stale sweat and tobacco smoke. His hair was matted and his robes stained.
"Kreacher apologizes for the delay in bringing the thief, Master," croaked the elf. "Fletcher knows how to avoid capture, has many hidey-holes and accomplices. Nevertheless, Kreacher cornered the thief in the end."
"Actually, you couldn't have brought him at a better time," said Levina, foot still crushing into Mundungus' shoulder. She needed something to channel her anger at, and who better to do just that against than Dung?
"You've done really well, Kreacher," said Harry, and the elf bowed low. "Right, we've got a few questions for you," he told Mundungus, who shouted at once.
"I panicked, okay? I never wanted to come along, no offense, mate, but I never volunteered to die for you, an' that was bleedin' You-Know-Who come flying at me, anyone woulda got outta there. I said all along I didn't wanna do it —"
"For your information, none of the rest of us Disapparated," said Hermione.
"Well, you're a bunch of bleedin' 'eroes then, aren't you, but I never pretended I was up for killing meself—"
"We're not interested in why you ran out on Mad-Eye," said Harry, moving his wand a little closer to Mundungus's baggy, bloodshot eyes. "We already knew you were an unreliable bit of scum."
"Well then, why the 'ell am I being 'unted down by 'ouse-elves? Or is this about them goblets again? I ain't got none of 'em left, or you could 'ave 'em—"
"It's not about the goblets either, although you're getting warmer," said Harry. "Shut up and listen."
Harry's wand was now so close to the bridge of Mundungus's nose that Mundungus had gone cross-eyed trying to keep it in view.
"When you cleaned out this house of anything valuable," Harry began, but Mundungus interrupted him again.
"Sirius never cared about any of the junk—"
There was the sound of pattering fee, a blaze of shining copper, an echoing clang, and a shriek of agony; Kreacher had taken a run at Mundungus and hit him over the head with a saucepan. Levina jumped back and took her foot off of him.
"Call 'im off, call 'im off, 'e should be locked up!" screamed Mundungus, cowering as Kreacher raised the heavy-bottomed pan again.
"Good boy, creature!" said Levina.
"Kreacher, no!" shouted Harry.
Kreacher's thin arms trembled with the weight of the pan, still held aloft.
"Perhaps just one more, Master Harry, for luck?"
Ron laughed and Levina snorted so loudly that Hermione looked slightly startled.
"We need him conscious, Kreacher, but if he needs persuading, you can do the honors," said Harry.
"Thank you very much, Master," said Kreacher with a bow, and he retreated a short distance, his great pale eyes still fixed upon Mundungus with loathing.
"When you stripped this house of all the valuables you could find," Harry began again, "you took a bunch of stuff from the kitchen cupboard. There was a locket there. What did you do with it?"
"Why?" asked Mundungus. "Is it valuable?"
"You've still got it!" cried Hermione.
"No, he hasn't," said Ron shrewdly. "He's wondering whether he should have asked more money for it."
"Scumbag," muttered Levina.
"More?" said Mundungus. "That wouldn't have been effing difficult...bleedin' gave it away, di'n' I? No choice."
"What do you mean?"
"I was selling in Diagon Alley and she come up to me and asks if I've got a license for trading in magical artifacts. Bleedin' snoop. She was gonna fine me, but she took a fancy to the locket an' told me she'd take it and let me off that time, and to fink meself lucky."
"Who was this woman?" asked Harry.
"I dunno, some Ministry hag."
"Come on, think," Levina urged. "What did she look like? Try to remember."
Mundungus considered for a moment, brow wrinkled.
"Little woman. Bow on top of 'er head."
He frowned and then added, "Looked like a toad."
Harry dropped his wand: It hit Mundungus on the nose and shot red sparks into his eyebrows, which ignited.
"Aquamenti!" screamed Hermione, and a jet of water streamed from her wand, engulfing a spluttering and choking Mundungus.
Levina could have fainted on the spot. She looked up into the horrified faces of her three friends before glancing down at her arm. The scars permanently carved into her arm seemed to be burning again.