Daisy's mind was on overdrive as she led Pyrrha's hovering, unconscious form through the torchlit corridors, her pallid face drifting at Daisy's transparent hip. She glanced down at Pyrrha roughly fourteen times a second, and each time she noticed something else that sent an unpleasant jolt through her chest; namely, the missing leg—how hadn't Daisy noticed it at once? Pyrrha's eyes were sunken, ringed with dark circles, and the burn scar . . . Daisy had never seen anything like it. Looking at it made her insides prickle with sympathy pain.
The wolf—Hati, she reminded herself—padded along just behind them. Daisy looked back, and, yes, he was still staring at her shimmering shape unnervingly, like he was undecided whether or not he should eat her.
"Don't worry," she said, swallowing her nerves as she turned back around. The double doors to the hospital wing were just ahead. "I'm going to make her better."
Hati uttered a growling bark that made Daisy jump. She took it to be aggressive encouragement.
They filed into the empty room, and Daisy gently tilted her wand, setting Pyrrha onto the nearest bed. Her face—the undamaged parts—nearly matched the color of the crisp white sheets. Daisy swung her wand around, sending the dark pulse of a Ghost-Repelling Charm through the air. She drew closer to the bed, and Hati sat up at the other side, ears up and eyes alert, eerie silver gaze never leaving her wand as she let the charm around her melt away, bleeding back into visibility.
Daisy didn't allow herself to linger on worry. She summoned a thin hospital gown and performed a Switching Spell, setting Pyrrha's clothes aside. Her skinny arms and leg bore a scant few bruises and cuts, but nothing more serious. Daisy probed the metal leg briefly, scanned the spellwork, finding nothing that required intervention, beyond the obvious. Regrowing an entire limb would take at least a month, depending on the circumstances. While Daisy could brew the necessary concoctions, she gathered from her whirlwind introduction to the situation that Pyrrha didn't have a month to convalesce, totally immobile.
Daisy shifted her attention to the torso. She raised her wand and performed a neat gesture, and the tip shone with violet light. Pyrrha's skin fell translucent under the light, like thin wax paper before a flame, and the gown faded entirely; Daisy's own insides squirmed as Pyrrha's were revealed, a hundred glistening shades of red and purple, twitching and pulsing and flowing to their own unique rhythms. Daisy watched the intestines undulate in a sort of repelled fascination before refocusing, carefully examining Pyrrha's vital organs and arteries for damage. She was so intent on spotting the smallest sign of internal bleeding that the heart went overlooked for several seconds too long.
"Black?" she cried, icy dread spiking her blood. Adrenaline kicked in as Daisy took in the damage. She'd never seen the like of it; Pyrrha's heart was marred by uneven patches of dark scar tissue, the remaining flesh a foreboding shade of pinkish-grey. It reminded Daisy of the time she'd assisted in the treatment of an elderly wizard with a debilitating fondness for nostryctum.
This was dark magic, quite clearly a curse, though she lamented that she didn't recognize it; it didn't exhibit the hemorrhaging of the Traumata Curse, nor the putrefaction of the Rotting Curse. Other spells with these effects she could recall, in her admittedly limited knowledge, would have resulted in death much earlier. Daisy's relative calm began to fray once more as helplessness sank in; this damage was both life-threatening and beyond her capabilites. What the hell was she going to do?
Daisy took a breath and hardened her resolve; she was going to keep Pyrrha alive, of course, no matter if she had to bring her straight to St. Mungo's, mad witch at her heels or no. But Pyrrha's heart still pumped, though with noticeable strain . . . or was that her imagination? She couldn't be sure.
With a nod to herself, Daisy set about doing all she could conceive of that may help Pyrrha's heart function until she woke. Pyrrha would know what the curse was, she thought, attempting several different countercurses with deft maneuvers. Pyrrha certainly hadn't been acting as if she'd had hours to live—although, Daisy reflected, Pyrrha had a habit of dismissing her troubles. Daisy would assume the worst, behave like a healer treating a critical-condition patient, not like a friend sick with distress.
Down Pyrrha's throat went several different potions summoned from Mr. Eshmun's office. One for pain, one for energy in lieu of a meal, one to strengthen and regulate the heartbeat, another to repair damaged organ tissue, yet another to regenerate new tissue to replace what had died. Daisy had her doubts the latter two would have any significant effect, but the smallest chance was plenty enough. She hesitated, then felt silly for it, finally pulling down the collar of Pyrrha's gown to check the skin over her heart for any telltale marks of one curse or another. There was no luck to be had. Pyrrha's necklace was gone, she noticed with pang of unease—her prized memento, the gift from her mother that never left her neck—what had happened to it?
Wiping sweat from her brow, Daisy ejected distraction from her mind as she stood back and assessed. She'd now done all she could for Pyrrha's injuries, except for the cursed burn. She wrung her hands as she took it in up close; the blackened circle of skin originating below the right temple, emanating out into shining red scar tissue shot through with wandering purple tendrils that curved around the cheek and forehead. The result of another curse Daisy didn't recognize. The sight of it made her ill to think of what it had done to Pyrrha.
Tentatively, Daisy raised her wand again, her mind viciously replaying Pyrrha's agonized reaction when she'd tried to interact with the curse earlier. She stood rigid, eventually deciding a moment of pain was worth ensuring the well-being of Pyrrha's brain. Hopefully she wouldn't feel a thing while she slept, thoroughly unconscious as she was. Daisy took a breath and cast the charm, directing the violet light at Pyrrha's head, arm tensed and ready to withdraw.
Pyrrha didn't shift. Daisy released the breath she'd held, relieved, and she crept closer. Apprehension built anew as she scanned the skull for fractures before willing the charm to reach further; the skull faded from view to reveal Pyrrha's brain, fleshy and pink and full of winding contours. Simultaneously repulsed and captivated, Daisy examined it from every angle, gawking at the gentle trickles of fluid and subtle pulsating of the brain matter. It appeared entirely healthy, to Daisy's comfort. If only it were so easy to see the curious thoughts the thing produced.
When she ended the spell, Daisy found herself leaning much too close to Pyrrha's face. At rest, she looked somehow more troubled than her waking self, brow furrowed, thin lips set in a tense line. Daisy straightened up, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from Pyrrha's cheek, and Pyrrha winced in her slumber as the scar was grazed, giving Daisy a twinge in her chest. The burn drew Daisy's eye again with that innate ghastly magnetism horrific sights possessed. It would never heal, Daisy knew.
Pyrrha would shrug it off, as was her way, but Daisy felt sure it would bother her at least a little. Such a mark would only make her even more intimidating, more ostensibly unapproachable. That much harder for her to interact with people. Sudden outrage surged through Daisy, and her hands shook as she groped blindly behind herself, eyes fixed on her friend's marred face; she dragged a chair over with a noisy scrape and fell backward in. She pointed her wand, and the sheets fluttered out from under Pyrrha and wrapped her snugly.
Morrigan, she'd said. Who was this woman, this witch that could send Pyrrha, of all people, fleeing for safety, thoroughly cursed and missing a bloody limb? Daisy held at least part of the answer inside a vial tucked into her inner robe pocket. She burned with the need to know more, but she simply couldn't leave Pyrrha unattended for an extended period, hurt as she was. Daisy sat back and twined her fingers.
Her thoughts turned to Ashlin. She likely hadn't a clue what was going on. That was something Daisy could do, something useful. Apart from the fact she deserved to know Pyrrha was hurt, she could be in danger, a potential hostage for the madwoman outside. Daisy was halfway to the door, Hati watching her intently, before she paused. This Morrigan was capable of anything, in her mind. An owl sent to Ashlin might be followed, and who knew if the charms around the Clay house would keep her at bay?
No, a Patronus was the smarter option. Daisy would tell Ashlin a quick overview, and to stay aware and cautious. Stay with a friend for a few days, if she possibly could. She would end the message with reassurance; she and Pyrrha would get this mess sorted out. Daisy nodded to herself as she composed the message in her head, then cast the charm with a flourish.
The silvery ghost of a wolverine streamed from Daisy's wand, but it didn't soar away through the door; it paused in the air, nose pointed up and turning this way and that. It floated back and forth looking hopelessly lost, then turned back to face her, meeting her bewildered expression. Unearthly pale eyes gave her what seemed a solemn look before dispersing into fleeting white mist.
Daisy stood dumbfounded. Pyrrha had taught her to cast the Patronus ages ago; she hadn't failed to in years. It had manifested just fine, so her happy memory remained effective. It was as if the spell couldn't find Ashlin. A block of ice slipped into Daisy's stomach; where could Ash possibly be? Of course, she realized, the answer was obvious. Pyrrha had already ensured her safety, hidden her away somewhere secure. That was the only explanation.
Daisy needed a distraction. She turned to watch Hati, who watched her right back, then turned his head to Pyrrha and barked once. Daisy jumped again as the startlingly loud noise rang through the room.
"I've . . . done all I can for now, I think," Daisy said, approaching the chair she had vacated before. She set it down next to the wolf and sat, tilting her head down at him curiously. "Do you actually understand me?"
Hati uttered an annoyed-sounding half bark.
"You could just be responding out of some funny instinct."
Hati growled.
"Okay, okay, stay calm," Daisy said, hairs standing up on her neck. "Er . . . alright, how about this; if you understand me, go take out your aggression on the third bed from the doors on the lefthand side."
Hati stared at her, and Daisy thought he looked thoroughly unimpressed. For a few seconds, he didn't move an inch, and Daisy thought that was that . . . but Hati stood, keeping his shining eyes locked on Daisy even as his body turned away, and he continued to stare as long as he could while he walked before turning away and padding languidly over to the third bed from the doors on the other side of the room.
Daisy watched in disbelief as Hati leapt gracefully onto the bed and turned around to resume his relentless stare. Slowly, deliberately, he sank his claws into the bedding, his silver eyes never leaving Daisy's as he methodically tore the mattress and sheets to shreds. The sounds of ripping and tearing fabric filled the silence as mattress fluff spilled onto the floor. The wolf demolished the bed bit by bit, slashing with all the passion of a coma patient, rending sheets to ribbons with protracted slashes from claws like honed scalpels. He stopped abruptly and leapt off the ruined cot, claws clicking against the floor, then paced back to Daisy.
She sat stiff with unease as Hati walked past her to take his place beside Pyrrha, emitting a soft bark as he finally broke eye contact. He settled his head between his front paws on the floor, eyes remaining open and alert.
". . . Alright," Daisy said shakily. "Smart and scary. You're quite the pair."
Silence settled over the room like a blanket, punctuated by Pyrrha's soft breathing while her body gently rose and fell. Hati's gaze flickered between her and Daisy, nose twitching restlessly. He observed with eyes like gleaming sickles as Daisy tentatively withdrew her wand, attempting an innocuous smile—many intelligent creatures could interpret human facial expressions. When the wolf did nothing more than maintain his sharp stare, Daisy aimed her wand around the walls, pointing at each burning torch in turn. The flickering flames were diminished, and the details of the room were lost in dimly lit obscurity.
Daisy settled into her seat, stowing her wand and wrapping her arms around herself. Minutes ticked by while worry after worry seized Daisy's ruminations, her wicked mind needling her with all manner of dreadful scenarios. She strove to shut out the noise, focusing intently on monitoring Pyrrha's condition. Even as the hours passed without incident her fears were not allayed. She fidgeted in the hard wooden chair, squeezing her fists in her robes to keep them apart.
Fatigue crept up on Daisy and pulled at her eyelids. The subdued glow from the torches put together with Pyrrha's quiet breaths in the otherwise silent room lent the atmosphere a cozy, soporific tranquility. After an uneventful while later, Daisy found herself resting her eyes, and not long after that her head lolled back, bumping against the firm back of the chair. She sat bolt upright with a jolt.
"Can't have that," she muttered. According to her watch, it was one in the morning, but the time didn't matter on reflection; she would remain awake until Pyrrha woke as well, hopefully possessed of the knowledge to heal herself. Daisy stood and stretched her stiff legs, turning to walk to the doors and slip out of the room; she would need caffeine for this, and felt it best not to startle the wild wolf with the sudden appearance of a house elf.
"Renny," she called softly into the empty corridor.
The elf appeared with a barely perceptible pop, greeting her with customary enthusiasm that made her slightly uncomfortable; it was distressing the way house elves took any kindness you offered, even be it as simple as a friendly word and a smile, and amplified it into something profound. They made compassion seem a rarity, and perhaps for them, it was, Daisy reflected sadly. She was far from the first to want to help the house elves without a clue as to how to go about it.
Daisy pushed the troubling thoughts aside as she made her polite requests. Renny vanished and reappeared in the space of a minute, and floating along with him was a steaming pot of coffee already mixed with cream, a mug, some toast, a bowl of water, and a huge platter laden with various meats, cooked and uncooked. If the elf found the last request odd he was too polite to show it, bidding Daisy farewell with a chipper wave.
Her acquisitions floated ahead of her at wandpoint back through the doors. She conjured herself a small table, guiding her coffee and toast to settle on it, and she directed the bowl and platter to place themselves in front of the wolf. Hati sat up and leaned back warily as they drifted to a stop at his front paws, though his caution was short-lived; with an obligatory suspicious glance at Daisy and a cursory sniff, he buried his snout into the platter, snapping up chunks of meat with much noisy smacking.
Daisy hid her smile with a sip of scalding coffee as she returned to her post, watching Hati devour his meal. He certainly ate with the vicious gusto of a wild animal. What on earth was Pyrrha doing with a wolf following her around?
Discontent welled in Daisy as she thought of how little she knew about her friend's life. It wasn't for lack of trying; she'd written and written, and been lucky to receive replies on occasion. Those letters were filled with apologies and evasions, and Pyrrha's conflicted mentality was practically screaming through like a howler; she wanted to remain friends, but she was holding herself back for some foolish reason. Daisy couldn't imagine what her friend was thinking, and it frustrated her to no end, but she didn't know what to do about it. She'd dropped by the house whenever she could, most often finding Ashlin alone, and sometimes no one at all.
Daisy's gaze traced Pyrrha's long outline under the sheets. She was thinner than last they met, painfully so, bony wrists and elbows jutting out under the tightly tucked blanket. Tears stung at Daisy's eyes as they were dragged past Pyrrha's hollow cheeks, called back to the awful scar. Pyrrha had done this, gotten herself into something terrible. Daisy decided then that she was done hoping, done waiting for Pyrrha to break away from herself. It had never been her way. Daisy would dive in and pull her out, stop her drowning, willing or not.
As much as she wanted to shake sense into Pyrrha, this Morrigan would have to be dealt with first. Daisy welcomed the flush of rage that returned as she considered Pyrrha's attacker. She had half a mind to leave the castle and educate her, and the other half knew how foolish that notion was. Daisy stood and paced, finished her mug, poured another. Hati's eyes tracked her movements from the floor. On her tenth pass by the bed she kept walking, coming to a stop at the tall windows on either side of the cot.
The sweeping grounds were bathed in night, not a hint of starlight from the overcast sky that concealed the heavens behind a deep grey shroud. Black gloom swallowed the paltry firelight from the castle's windows. The oppressive murk made luminous yellow eyes stand out like countless wands shining with death at their tips; Daisy's breath caught as she took them in, endless clusters along the edge of the forest as far as she could see, dotted between the trees and upon their branches. Innumerable sets of eyes of all different heights and sizes stared ahead in the same direction, still and patient as apex predators awaiting their perfect chance for blood.
A humanoid figure stood solitary in the center of the lawn, faintly touched by the castle's light. Its withered skull, wrapped in scabbed and cracked flesh, aimed empty eye sockets ahead at the castle wall, boring into the stone with the light glowing from within those hollow pits. A skeletal hand clutched a twisted length of wood in its yellow-boned fingers, the branch shivering in her grip. Morrigan's lolling grey tongue swayed to and fro.
Daisy was rooted to the spot, still as prey without an escape. Her heart drummed impossibly loud in the silence. All at once, as if she'd cracked a branch underfoot, a thousand unblinking eyes snapped up and captured her own.
Daisy tore herself from the window, coffee mug slipping from numb fingers to shatter on the stone floor. The sharp sound made Hati leap to a stand, but Daisy ignored him, stumbling backward to fall to the floor beside her chair. Adrenaline and fright shook her limbs as they coursed through like ice-cold water.
Morrigan was a monster; an inferius, or some other terrible shade of unlife. Dark arts were far from Daisy's premier field of expertise, but she knew inferi were mindless killing machines, decidedly incapable of the higher thought processes magic required. How could she possibly work magic? And what did those awful eyes in the forest belong to? Were there so many more like her?
Daisy endeavored to relax her frantic breathing, standing on shaky legs and stepping further back from the windows. She drew her wand and beckoned, and Pyrrha's bed floated peacefully over to join her in the middle of the room. A sweeping gesture saw the windows covered by thick black curtains, conjured from nothing and supported by nothing. Hati glanced at the windows before returning to Pyrrha's side, giving Daisy a look of guarded curiosity.
Daisy couldn't have cared less about the skittish wolf just then. Her mind was racing with emotion, fighting with indecision as she clenched her fingers around her wand until they ached. She considered Pyrrha yet again; she was still inexplicably serene in sleep, but for her troubled expression that hadn't cleared a bit. Her breathing was even and deep. Daisy peered through her skin again, shielding Pyrrha's eyes from the violet glow with her other hand. Her heart appeared just as sickly as it had hours ago, but no more; Daisy couldn't detect any hint of symptom progression in the heart's rate or blotchy coloring. She was stable, Daisy thought with no small amount of relief.
That settled things. Daisy crept over to Pyrrha's discarded belongings and rifled through her robes, fumbling a little in the semidarkness before pulling out the worn fabric pouch Pyrrha carried everywhere. Daisy held it up with consummate care; though she couldn't distinguish magics as clearly as Pyrrha could, the gentle tickling snaking from her fingers down her arm told her the bag bore much more potent enchantments than just an Undetectable Extension Charm.
Hati growled low in his chest at her, lips twitching.
"Oh, shut up," Daisy said without thinking. "She told you to trust me, remember?" she added with a nervous twinge, shooting Hati a furtive glance.
The wolf huffed and snapped his jaws together, then laid his head back down to rest between his paws. He continued to watch her with silver eyes shining dimly in reflected torchlight.
"Right . . ."
Daisy returned her attention to the pouch. Tentatively, she reached for the secured button. As her fingers neared the flap, the pouch quivered; she froze, feeling a vague sense of danger about the air. Daisy deliberated, halting her impulse to bring her hands together. Pyrrha almost certainly carried an invisibility cloak, and Daisy needed it now. She steeled herself and inched her hand further, fingers coming to rest against the wood button. Nebulous unease intensified into a premonition, a promise of imminent calamity choking the air with a metallic tang; Daisy dropped the bag and the awful feeling withdrew, leaving behind a palpable sense of narrow escape.
Daisy panted as the curse's crushing aura bled from her. Irritation joined her ebbing fear as she used her wand to fly the bag back onto Pyrrha's piled robes. Why did Pyrrha have to be so bloody paranoid?
It seemed there was nothing else for it but to go. "I'll be back in a bit," Daisy whispered, as much to Pyrrha as Hati. The wolf didn't acknowledge her beyond leveling a stare at her back as she left the room.
Daisy coated herself in the Disillusionment Charm as she passed through the doors and strode down the corridor, letting her body become an empty, wavering space. She threw in a charm on her shoes—another she'd learned from Pyrrha—muffling any would-be noise from her footsteps. In thinking ahead earlier, she'd realized the necessity of remaining out of sight of the Hogwarts ghosts. Portraits could be confined or blinded, and house elves could be obliviated, two qualities ghosts lacked. Any of them witnessing her up and about while her colleagues were missing in action would point suspicions firmly in her direction.
Daisy reached the staircases and began the climb to the seventh floor, idle chatter of portraits wafting over her. The knowledge that no one but her and the ghosts roamed the castle lent an odd feeling, an adventurous sort of loneliness, even being that she knew the school rather well. She skipped a trick step and continued her ascent, letting the familiar ambiance of Hogwarts soothe her frazzled nerves.
As Daisy impatiently awaited the return of a staircase that had flattened into a bridge on the sixth floor landing, voices drifted up from below. She darted into the adjacent corridor and ducked behind the nearest tapestry, heart beating a quick pace. She felt a bizarre pang of nostalgic excitement as the voices drew closer. Peeking out, she saw Nearly-Headless Nick and the Bloody Baron drift up from the floor where she'd stood moments ago.
"—out a trace? What are we supposed to make of this situation?" Nick's agitated voice rang clearly down the hall as they paused by the mouth of the corridor.
"There are traces," the Baron said, apathetic monotone a perfect contrast. "Peeves informed me of his encounter with a witch. She threatened harm to chase him away." He held up a transparent hand as Nick opened his mouth. "There are also two rooms charmed against ghosts; the hospital wing and the staffroom. It's safe to assume the professors are trapped in one, and the witch occupies the other."
"What could this lunatic possibly have to gain, here? Madness, I tell you!"
"Madness indeed," the Baron said, tone heavy with sarcasm. "Who could possibly find worth in the ancient texts and artifacts housed within these walls?"
"Yes—well—right, that makes sense, but what are we doing about it all? Is there any sort of protocol for—?"
"In fact, there is. I was on my way to alert the Headmasters' portraits before you stopped me for this terribly stimulating conversation," the Baron deadpanned.
Nick's affronted response was lost to Daisy as alarm prickled across her scalp. The headmasters' portraits had frames elsewhere; they could alert the Ministry in an instant. She had to reach the office first.
Daisy shuffled along the wall to the other end of the tapestry, back pressed against cold stone to keep from rustling the cloth. She aimed her wand down the corridor and fired a spell; it soared down the hall and collided with a distant suit of armor with a resounding bang, sending its pieces flying apart in a cacophony of clanging metal.
"What in blazes—?"
"Let's find out."
Daisy kept still as the pair glided down the corridor, and she slipped out from behind the tapestry when they passed. Up the stairs and down several corridors she sprinted, silent as a mouse, save for her soft panting. She came to a halt at the gargoyle and spoke the password between quick breaths. The guardian eyed her dubiously, but it leapt aside all the same, and she wasted no time bursting in. Daisy leapt up the rising spiral staircase two steps at a time and barged through the familiar oak door, shutting it behind her with a sigh.
With a wave of her wand and a pulse of darkness, the room and her future were as secure as she could make them. Daisy felt guilt squirm in her, that she could worry about Azkaban with everything going on. She shook herself mentally; Pyrrha needed her. She had to hurry.
The candlelit office looked much as it had the last time she'd been here, and she didn't take a moment to eye the creepy decor; she strode right past the stuffed manticore that followed her with its eyes, lifting her wand to the former headmasters; she struck them all with a spell, startling a few from their slumber as they were confined to their portraits indefinitely. Daisy turned her aim to the stone plinth upon which the Hogwarts pensieve rested. It rose gently in the air, away from beside the claw-footed desk, and it accompanied her back out the door, to the distress of the headmasters.
"Beg pardon—who goes there?"
"Just what do you think you're doing, prowler?"
"You cannot simply walk—"
Daisy shut the door with a flick over her shoulder before tapping the pensieve. Transparency dripped down its length and coated it, making the task of guiding it down the tight stairwell tricky, but she managed, emerging from behind the gargoyle that leapt dutifully aside once again.
Awaiting her were a disgruntled Nick and a narrow-eyed Baron. From such a short distance, the wavering effect on her and the pensieve were clear enough for them to spot in the half-light of the torchlit hall.
"Just who are you, and what the devil are you doing?" Nick demanded, puffed up with indignation. "You won't get away with this, you know, the Ministry—"
Daisy ignored them, stepping silently past and into the hall. They weren't her concern; all that mattered was they didn't recognize her.
They didn't let up, flying along after her as she scurried down the first flight of stairs she could reach. They called after her with shouted threats and reprimands echoing in the spacious chamber. Daisy half-ran along a corridor, maneuvering the pensieve around a suit of armor pushed into her path by a cackling Peeves. The portraits, upon grasping the situation, chimed in with their own shouted admonishments. They condemned her for the attack on the staff with much vitriol, more and more ghosts swirling around her as they overheard the commotion. Despite that they could do nothing to her, Daisy's heart hammered with stress, and a bit of shame. It was all necessary, she reminded herself as she hurried down another flight of steps.
Midway down, a ghost with skin lesions and a snarl marring his face swooped through Daisy, and it was like plunging into a frozen lake. She stumbled, catching the railing, and the other ghosts exclaimed in triumph before following suit; they soared through her one by one, each passing a blast of pure frigid torment, every attack progressively worse than the last. Numb eyes blurred with tears, Daisy barely managed to guide the stone plinth to land safely on the second floor landing.
The spirits crowded her, surrounded her in a frozen sea of dead faces twisted in outrage, and the hostile clamor barely registered over what she felt as they pressed into her; pure, deathly absence of warmth, of sensation, of life. Involuntary shivers and twitches shook her frame.
Daisy's vision flickered—she sank to the steps, covering her head in vain with unfeeling arms. It was all the more terrifying in the absence of sight, adrift in a gelid void where the only sounds were merciless indictments echoing in her skull. Desperately, she raised her wand and twirled it overhead with dead fingers. "Morsobis!" she said, keeping her pronunciation steady with every ounce of control she still possessed.
At a discordant chorus of outcries the deathlike chill fled her, and dull warmth bled in from outside. The shouts fell distant in all directions, as if they'd been yanked away by the afterlife itself, dragged off to where they belonged.
Daisy opened her eyes. The chamber was empty, silent as a tomb. The portraits eyed her warily. There wasn't a spirit to be found; they'd fled before the swaying absence of light radiating from the tip of her raised wand.
Unsteady legs bore Daisy down the rest of the stairs, around a corner, and through the final corridor, floating the pensieve ahead of her. Her freezing body tingled with the aftermath of the ghosts' assault, as if her blood had been exsanguinated and sluggishly reintroduced. The tip of her wand trembled as it continued to emit blackness all the way up until she guided the pensieve through the hospital wing doors. She released both spells at once and collapsed into her chair beside Pyrrha, barely stifling a sob as she faded back into visibility.
Daisy examined her friend without taking it in, struggling to stuff down the anguish that threatened to smother her. The ghosts were only trying to protect the staff—her included—but that did little assuage the lingering shock buzzing inside. She twisted her fingers together, wringing them until they hurt, and she parted her hands with a wince at the flesh rubbed raw. She sat on her hands and lowered her head, asserting her control over her unsteady breathing with negligible success.
Something pressed down on her knee. Daisy's head snapped up, coming eye-to-eye with Hati, who had a heavy paw placed atop her leg. The wolf blinked at her, silver gaze forgoing suspicion in favor of calm assurance. Daisy blinked right back, initial alarm fading into affection as she realized the wolf was comforting her.
"T-thanks," she said, wiping her eyes and patting his paw. "I had a rough go of it, but I'm alright."
Hati yipped and withdrew, turning his head back to glance pointedly at Pyrrha. He certainly had a one-track mind.
After a moment, Daisy approached the bed and scrutinized every inch of Pyrrha for the third time. She could find no evidence of progressing symptoms or a decline in vital activity. Pyrrha still slept deeply, if not soundly; her face was still taut with stress, mouth set as rigidly as her tensed limbs. Daisy wished she could give Pyrrha something for peaceful sleep, but the sooner she woke, the better.
The time was half past one, by her wristwatch. Time also to enjoy the fruits of her labor, though enjoy was most definitely the wrong word; whatever Pyrrha's memories of Morrigan held, they were far from pleasant.
Daisy crouched down before the wolf and met his eye with a solemn look. "I'm going in there," she said, pointing to the pensieve. "I don't know how long I'll be gone, but this has a good chance to help Pyrrha. I might learn what curses she was hit with." The words sent a terrible thrill through her even now. Pyrrha's been cursed. "If anything changes—she wakes, has trouble breathing, makes any sort of move or noise—you knock this over." Daisy pointed to the stone plinth the pensieve rested on. "It'll spill me right out in a snap." Daisy wasn't entirely certain of that, but it seemed logical. Hopefully the memory wasn't too lengthy.
Hati yipped his understanding, sitting dutifully beside Pyrrha as Daisy turned away and rounded the engraved stone bowl, tracing the intricate runes carved across. The pale and swirling silver-white light of countless memories washed over her as she unstoppered the vial and tipped its contents into the basin. She took a quick breath as dreadful anticipation flooded her, and she prodded the memory with her finger, a ticklish and smooth feeling. Her body lurched forward as she was drawn in implacably by the hand.
In an odd moment of clarity, Daisy realized why Pyrrha wasn't fond of utilizing pensieves. The experience of freefalling through space was scary enough for Daisy without any sort of phobia to speak about. There was no accompanying rush of air whipping at her face or howling in her ears, just a rapid descent without momentum, as if she hung suspended in the air as the world flew up to meet her. As abruptly as she was yanked in, her feet touched solid ground, no more jarring than missing a step on the stairs. She peered around as the scene swirled into shape in a blur of colors.
Pyrrha formed beside her, stone-faced and straight-backed, wand held at her side. They stood on a stone walkway made of interlocked hexagonal pillars, each the width of three people standing shoulder to shoulder. The bridge itself could have seen a couple of giants walk the length abreast comfortably, Daisy thought. The endless sea crashed and churned on either side of them a worrying distance below, and the grey sky weeped a light drizzle that never seemed to find the bridge or Pyrrha herself.
Daisy gasped as the island before them solidified into view. A jagged mass of rock sprouted from the water, big around as a professional quidditch pitch, and it stemmed up unnaturally from the ocean at a uniform width before tapering into a massive spire, like a titanic spear thrust through the earth. Impaled upon the tip of the towering spike were the colossal white bones of a whale, skewered through one side of the ribcage and out the other. The immense jaw gaped open in an eternal moan.
At a height with the bridge the island jutted out towards them, a crude platform of stone broad enough for several Ironbellies to roost on, were it not lined at each side with uncountable spikes the size of small trees sprouting up in all directions, themselves with spines upon spines bursting out like oversized thorn bushes. The entire expanse was barren, not a single blade of grass nor even a patch of dirt to be found. It was as if a mountain had had its features ineptly whittled away, leaving a rough and serrated skeleton behind.
A fair distance straight across from where they stood, down along the vast path flanked by myriad spikes, the dark mouth of a cave yawned open like the maw of a monstrous entity, baring notched stone teeth in a tremendous overbite. The weak light from the overcast sky did nothing to chase away the blackness in its throat.
Overall, it looked like the sort of inhospitable environment an insane dark witch would appreciate. Yet more questions without answers buzzed in Daisy's head, but she tamped them down in favor of studying Pyrrha, whose dark eyes were roving across the platform that began at the bridge's end a few steps forward. She raised her wand and conducted a series of precise gestures, and Daisy imagined she heard the clamor of the distant waves fade further into the background, as if the world itself were listening in. The air over the platform seemed to twitch sporadically, random intervals of split-second distortion abating quickly as they appeared.
Eventually, Pyrrha lowered her wand, a thoughtful frown on her face. She cast out at the platform, and a billowing silver spell like an oily cloud flooded out across the stone. The spell seemed to boil as it turned a shocking shade of pink and emitted a piercing screech, like metal rasping against metal. The cloud shifted, turning a muted grey, then disappeared into the stone as if the ground had inhaled it.
Daisy looked on in perturbed fascination as Pyrrha continued to probe the bedrock with deliberate motions. Beyond the obvious notion that Pyrrha was identifying and dismantling defenses, Daisy had little idea of what she was actually doing. There had been few opportunities for her to watch Pyrrha display her skill, and it was a little odd to see, even though her friend's brilliance had never been in doubt. Daisy felt a pang of melancholy at the underlining of their differences. If she'd been smarter, more talented, more driven to learn, would Pyrrha still have shut her out as she had?
Daisy watched intently as Pyrrha conjured a pig, and after a hesitant glance ahead, Pyrrha directed it forward. The swine trotted ahead mindlessly, grunting under its breath as its hooves touched the platform without incident. A few feet in, the animal lurched to a stop, a confused oink escaping its throat—it was hoof-deep in the stone, sinking deeper every moment. The pig struggled with increasing urgency as it melted further down, finally squealing out in alarm as the bedrock abruptly swallowed it.
Daisy felt a twinge of sadness for the animal, conjured or not, but Pyrrha merely made a small noise of exasperation. She cast again, a spell that made the air over the platform fuzzy, like an agitated swarm of near-invisible insects. The spell descended to the stone accompanied by a series of drawn-out chirps. The noise cut out as another gesture shifted the spell into something resembling a shattered mirror, myriad shards creating a dizzying series of flickers as they rained down upon the bedrock, and rather than sinking, they appeared to spill across the ground like molten glass. The stone shimmered and flared a brilliant white before fading back into the same rocky terrain.
It was apparently a favorable outcome, as Pyrrha gave a satisfied nod. She created another pig; it scampered ahead without a care, running circles around the arena on stubby legs, hooves clopping freely against the rock. Pyrrha vanished it with a flick and let out a quiet breath. Daisy's stomach lurched as Pyrrha stepped onto the platform.
Nothing happened. Daisy trailed along behind as Pyrrha kept walking, measured steps at first, gradually speeding up into a brisk stride. The clicking of her boots against the rock resonated oddly in the silence. Daisy felt anxiety building as they traversed the path flanked by many-edged masses of spikes, and the gaping entrance to the cave grew ever larger. The clouded sky enveloped them, lending a claustrophobic feeling when Daisy looked up.
The tip of Pyrrha's boot caught against a protrusion in the uneven bedrock. She teetered a moment, but was too slow to catch herself, and she fell to her hands and knees on the stone.
"Are you—?" Daisy cut herself off, immersed in the memory for a second.
Pyrrha's stoic expression cracked, displaying simmering anger that took Daisy aback. Pyrrha shook her head sharply, whipping loose locks of hair around her face; she stood and stared at the cavern ahead, fingers tight around her wand, and then she turned halfway around, peering back at the bridge. She remained still, and Daisy, having stepped around to face her, could practically see gears turning in her head.
A dull crack split the air, and the sound was followed by dozens more like it. All around, the many-pointed masses of stone were changing, rearranging themselves into lofty bipedal shapes, simplistic humanoid forms thick with jutting edges. Wisps of rock dust rolled off them as they scraped against themselves in their formation, and they stood tall on sharp limbs, arms like ridged stone blades held ready with violent intent.
Alarm coursed through Daisy as the beings advanced from all sides, pointed legs producing heavy clicks against the ground. Pyrrha, the madwoman, looked around far too calmly, an almost intrigued look in her eyes. She flicked her wand at the nearest monster; a spinning blue spell shot out and splashed harmlessly against the thing's chest. Pyrrha made an interested noise in her throat, as if reading something mildly surprising in the Prophet. She cast again at the same monster, which had nearly halved the distance with its unnervingly long legs; a violently flickering purple curse howled as it punched through the creation's abdomen, blasting through its lagging brethren in a similar manner. They all loped onward, oblivious to the damage.
Pyrrha uttered a little laugh as the pointy-headed monsters bore down on her from all sides, not twenty feet away. Daisy's panic mounted, and even though she knew Pyrrha came out of this alive, she couldn't believe her friend's nonchalance. Was this the sort of thing she was usually doing when she was away? Daisy watched in disbelief as Pyrrha continued to cast at her chosen test subject, nothing immediately apparent occurring.
Pyrrha finally broke off her observations as the creatures approached within their arms' length. She performed a complicated whirl ending with a sharp upward flick; the surrounding space rippled like the air over a bonfire, and the spindly monsters left the ground; they flailed as they plummeted up into the sky as if gravity had had a change of heart. Daisy stared up in wonder as they shrank smaller and smaller, finally disappearing within the swollen clouds.
Only five stragglers remained. Pyrrha struck the two nearest with jets of bright green light, destroying them in brilliant bursts of emerald flames.
She spun around and raised her wand at the final three; they were caught in a broad beam of pale golden light, and their movements grew sluggish, like flies trapped in amber. A low hum filled the air as they dragged themselves across the ground, stabbing and scraping at the stone under them, fighting for feet and inches as if beset by raging headwinds. They ground to a slow halt, and their angular forms began to vibrate; the hum reached a fever pitch, and the monsters broke apart with a gritty crackle of stone. They crumbled to dust in the air, and they were lost to the breeze as Pyrrha ended the spell.
Daisy stood stunned in the aftermath. Pyrrha looked around, casting an unknown spell for good measure, and she resumed the walk to the cave as though nothing had happened. Daisy cast off her disbelief and hurried up to match her stride.
The stone conjurations defeated, Daisy could see the distant horizon on either side of them now. To the west, the sun peeked under the dull grey veil across the sky. It spilled its afternoon rays over the azure waves, setting the far-off sea afire with warm colors that reflected onto the underbellies of the low clouds hanging above, turning them a whimsical shade of pink. Pyrrha's memory conveyed the tang of sea salt in the air, and Daisy could almost feel the breeze that held promise for more as it tousled Pyrrha's hair.
Pyrrha's demeanor grew more and more tense as they neared the mouth of the cave, lips drawn into a thin line. That she was nervous made Daisy terribly anxious in turn, and she stuck close to her friend subconsciously as they came to a halt a distance away from the looming entrance. Daisy stared up at the sun-bleached remains of the whale impaled over their heads, wondering how in the world it had ended up there. The poor thing must have suffered terribly, she thought.
Daisy dropped her gaze to the cave before them, a fathomless space so unnaturally black it looked like a solid wall. She knew it must be Morrigan waiting in there. Daisy's hands shook as she realized what was about to happen; Pyrrha was going to lose. She was going to be cursed. Daisy wished ardently that she could step into the past for real, warn her friend away from this perilous course, but all she could do was stand here and watch events unfold. No, that wasn't all, she corrected herself; she could and would help Pyrrha in the here and now. Together, they could set things right. They would.
Gleaming yellow eyes pierced the cave's gloom.