Chapter 8: Design of Darkness

Beep beep. Beep beep.

Rose could feel her annoyance growing with each noise piercing through her eardrums. A light pressure tapped against her shoulder and she felt herself involuntarily twitch.

"Rose, Rose can you hear me?" The sound felt like background noise, the words part of a melody. Familiar but hard to distinguish.

Her heart skipped a beat. Something wasn't right. This wasn't right.

Rose listened as the voice repeated the question. It most definitely was a question, the melody raising at the end. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, or too fast. She couldn't decide. The voice asked something new.

"Rose, squeeze my hand."

Rose felt someone take her hand. The voice repeated what sounded like a command, flat and direct. What's wrong with me? What do they want?

"Squeeze, Rose."

That she understood. She tightened her hand several times. Waves of fear continued to wash over her, but it felt good to discern something. Other voices made their way to her ears, gasps of excitement and encouragement. It sounded nice. The crisp voice commanded her to do a series of other tasks. She strained her ears to listen for keywords.

"Open your eyes, Rose."

Eyes, okay. She tried to blink her eyes open, but they felt like lead.

A hand plied her lids open and a bright light burst into view. The surprise trickled down her spine. She listened to an exchange of comments between several people and the blinding light left stars in her vision. A figure in lime green came into focus. A woman, smiling as she talked and waving her hands to point out other people gathered in the room.

Where am I?

The panic crackled like lightning in her head.

"Rose? Rose, pumpkin," a voice clear like autumn rain called out and she felt a kiss planted on her cheek.

She'd know that voice anywhere and felt herself smile. Wherever she was, her mum was with her at least. She could feel her heart relax just a little.

"It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay."

I'm okay, at least I can understand that.

"You're in the hospital, pumpkin."

Hospital. The fear crashed into her all over again and she felt heart thud too-hard in her chest.

"You had a stroke, pumpkin. But you're going to be okay. You're going to be okay." Her mum plant more kisses on her head, delicate and soothing.

Stroke. Stroke? The word sounded familiar. She felt so discombobulated, like time was operating differently.

The word didn't make sense. The word didn't feel good though.

"Tell me your name." The woman in lime green was talking to her again.

"What's your name?"

Okay, name. My name.

"Roe," She felt herself whisper. It didn't sound right on her tongue.

"Roe. Roe. Roe?" She tensed her hands in panic. Her tongue felt heavy.

This wasn't right. Rose. My name is Rose. She tried again and again, but it didn't come out right. She could feel her eyes scrunching up in frustration, sweat beading on her forhead.

"We'll have a specialist come see her. This tends to happen more frequently with muggles than with wizards and witches. There's a lot of research yet to be done on patients of mixed genetics, but we tend to find neuropathways are wired differently between those of magic and non-magical descent. Coming from a family with both backgrounds can sometimes reveal a combination or alteration of both neural structures."

She could tell the woman wearing lime green was a professional, probably one who was trying to help her. But nothing the woman said made sense. It sounded calm, but serious. She forced herself to stop listening and look around the room. Her dad was there, and her little brother. Behind them were the faces of her grandparents. She turned to peer at the other side. Her whole family was here with her. She smiled as her eyes landed on her cousin and best friend.

"Albus," She felt herself saying. It sounded right.

"Hey there, Rose." Albus came closer and she felt his hand wrap around her own.

"You scared us there." Albus squeezed her hand and held tight. The feeling enveloped her in warmth.

Her eyes wandered over him. Albus was smiling. His hair was a wreck, as usual. Just like hers. His green eyes glistened.

No, don't cry. I should be crying! She felt like laughing though. Am I losing my mind?

The fear was still crackling through her veins. Albus was wearing a school robe, outlined in red.

Gryffindor! He got into Gryffindor!

"Griffinslor!" She smiled, then bit her tongue.

The words kept coming out just wrong!

"Yeah! That's right. I'm in Gryffindor."

He didn't sound overly excited about it. That's all you talked about on the train, silly! She rolled her eyes instead and smiled.

There was so much more she wanted to say, but the words were lost on her tongue. I'm not in Gryffindor. The thought filled her with sorrow. She wanted to laugh again. Something bad happened to me and I'm still sad about not being in Gryffindor. Merlin, I'm ridiculous! She remembered sitting at the feast and staring at the smooth stitching on the deep, dark Slytherin green of her robes.

"Slith. Slith…" She felt herself trying enunciating with all her concentration.

"Sss," she hissed and moved her hand side to side like a serpent.

"Snake." She sighed, relieved something came out correct.

"Yeah, that's right. You're in Slytherin!" Albus said with a shy smile.

She nodded her head, glad he understood.

Just one thing at a time. Take it one thing at a time.

She felt her mum give her a tight hug and talk fast a rocket. She didn't understand much but smiled regardless, her mum sounded happy, relieved.

"Tell me about the Slytherin common room," Albus leaned in closer, a curious flicker in his eyes.

Rose must have looked confused because Albus repeated himself, adding extra detail about sofas and students hanging out in common rooms.

Like a dream, the images of elegant onyx marble columns and black leather sofas glinting under the reflective sunlight bursting through massive windows looking out into the depths of the Great Lake drifted through her mind.

"Wintow. fish."

She felt herself grin as the words came out sounding better.

Albus and her family kept talking to her and she felt herself relax ever so slightly. She didn't understand everything, but she could grasp some words that jumped out, and the flow and rhythm of her family's voices and facial expressions helped too. Healers came in periodically and gave her a slew of commands, conducting diagnostic spells over her body again and again. She felt exposed and completely exhausted. They'd called her language problems aphasia, almost as an afterthought. The healers just kept asking her what she remembered, but for the life of her, the last thing she could only recall was the beauty of the Slytherin common room. Had she even slept that night? Or seen her bed? Her memories felt all out of sorts.

"Darling, Uncle Harry has been called away for an emergency. The Ministry is calling me in too for an emergency meeting also, otherwise, I'd never leave you." Mum sounded frustrated, exhausted.

Ministry business. Rose nodded her head, her heart sinking.

"Grandma and grandpa are going to stay with you until I get back. Daddy's going to take the boys back to Hogwarts and Grandma and Grandpa Weasley are going to take your brother and Lily home. Aunt Ginny and Uncle George are going back home to grab some things for you and us."

It was too much information at once, and too fast. Her mum always had a plan though, and they were typically good ones. Rose found herself nodding like she understood regardless.

"I love you, pumpkin. We'll be back soon." Her mother peppered her in kisses, bushy hair tickling her nose.

"Love you," Rose called out as he mum pulled away, tears streaming down her eyes.

Albus was grieved to be leaving Rose but relieved to see her rapidly improving. James had done his best to crack jokes left and right and make Rose laugh, whether she understood or not. Teddy had been unusually silent and teary-eyed.

"Malfoy!" Uncle Ron squeaked. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

Aunt Hermione elbowed Uncle Ron and gave him a stern glance. Albus couldn't help but grin at Rose's parents, his godparents. He turned to take in the tall figure of a gaunt man in a crisp charcoal-gray robe with a matching pointed cap.

"Weasley. Granger." The man dipped his head, lips pressed into a thin line.

"She's Granger-Weasley now, if you mind," Uncle Ron quipped.

Aunt Hermione's eyes were doing their best to burn a hole in Uncle Ron's head. The man remained silent, his gaze coolly assessing their group.

"Well, what are you doing here?" Uncle Ron asked again while his aunt rolled her eyes.

"I'm at a hospital. There's a limited range of possibilities, Weasley. Obviously, I'm either here to see someone or I'm seeking medical attention." Mr. Malfoy's words were clearly meant to bite, but Albus thought they simply sounded tired. He watched as the man winced, left arm twitching.

"Are you hurt?" Aunt Hermione stepped forward, eyes also trained on the stranger's arm.

"Although every detail of my life is archived at the Ministry, I do actually value what privacy I have left. Much as I imagine your family and Potter's values theirs." Albus felt his skin prickle as crisp, gray eyes rested on him. An unspoken look passed between his aunt and uncle.

"Of course, it's just…" Aunt Hermione began to speak but Mr. Malfoy let out a sharp hiss, his knees buckling to the ground. The stranger grasped his arm gingerly against his chest.

"Are you alright?" His aunt leapt to the floor beside Malfoy and he felt Uncle Ron's hand rest on his shoulder.

"Piss off Granger!"

"Don't you dare speak to my wife like that!" Uncle Ron snapped.

"Right… Yes. Of course." Malfoy announced haltingly but was cut off by another gasp of pain.

Albus felt uncomfortable witnessing this scene. Where were the Medi-witches, the Healers in the lime-green eye sores called robes?

"Oh, do let me look!" Aunt Hermione pried Malfoy's arm away with an exasperated sigh and rolled up the heavy sleeve to reveal a tattoo of a skull with a snake slithering out of its mouth.

A chill sweep over Albus. The tattoo was wiggling ever so slightly, the skin around the tattoo on the man's arm was burning. Blisters actively emerging up in ugly pink welts.

"Malfoy, look at me," Aunt Hermione commanded. "How long has this been going on for?"

"It started early this morning… just pinpricks at first. I've exchanged a few letters with my son about it and he forced me to seek help at St. Mungo's. Would've never come in otherwise. Healers essentially told me to sod off though. Thought I was faking it. Barely even ran a diagnostic charm."

"Are you faking it?" Uncle Ron asked, hand clenching uncomfortable on Albus' shoulder.

Both his aunt and Malfoy glared daggers at Uncle Ron.

"What do you think it means?" Malfoy asked Aunt Hermione after a pause.

"I… I don't know," his aunt whispered, concern darkening her eyes.

Albus watched as the skin on Malfoy's arm began to peel back slowly. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on his aunt. James made a sound like throwing up. He couldn't watch.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I think you should go back to the healers again. Immediately," Albus commented, voice light and fast.

Malfoy laughed, lifting the edge of his thin lips in a slight grin and arching a single eyebrow.

"Albus, is it?" Mr. Malfoy didn't wait for his response.

"Your concern is appreciated, but the pain is practically nothing. It's just been a while since I've dealt with the likes of it. Besides, I'd been waiting in the emergency department for what feels like ten hours already. Healers don't particularly feel the urgent need to treat former Death Eaters. Can't say I blame them."

Albus felt heat run to his cheeks, abashed but unsure why.

"Albus is right," his aunt muttered gently, pressing her lips together tightly as she took in the gory sight. "Get up, Malfoy. I'm walking you over to the Healers myself."

"I don't need your help." Mr. Malfoy jerked his arm out of his aunt's hold.

"You don't, but I have the feeling something like this may be of importance to the Ministry."

Mr. Malfoy blanched and stood up, eyes full of storm. If looks could murder. He watched as his aunt pecked a kiss on his uncle's cheek and mummer in his ear. Uncle Ron lead them back to the lobby and fireplace.

"What was that tattoo?" Albus felt himself asking.

"That's the Dark Mark. Malfoy was a Death Eater under Voldemort's army. We meant to talk with you during Christmas holidays... as we did with James here. We'll get there eventually, I promise."

His nerves crackled like flame. Too many secrets. Who is my family?

"Well, it's just you and your old grandparents here, duck." Her Grandpa smoothed her hair bangs from her forehead. "Now then, would you like us to read to you? We've got some good poems here… Shakespeare, Beatrix Potter, Robert Frost. Anything strike your fancy?"

Understanding was getting a little bit easier, but Rose still felt like comprehending anything was like a jigsaw puzzle. A puzzle to which she was missing some pieces. Poems? I love poems!

"All?" she asked, smiling.

"There's our duck!" her grandfather chuckled and patted her head.

Rose observed as he pulled out a book, edged his chair in closer, and began to read.

"I found a dimpled spider, fat and white, On a white heal-all, holding up a moth, Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth," her grandfather intimated in his best impression of an American accent.

She giggled. Her grandfather loved doing voice impressions. Must be Frost!

"Assorted characters of death and blight, Mixed ready to begin the morning right, Like the ingredients of a witches' broth…"

Oh a witch, I'm a witch! How nice it must be to learn potions.

"A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth, And dead wings carried like a paper kite."

Kite, I'd love to fly one of those someday.

"What had that flower to do with being white, The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?"

Her grandfather paused. Echoes reverberated in the room from shouting far off.

A brawl?

Her grandfather cleared his throat and continued. "What brought the kindred spider to that height, Then steered the white moth thither in the night?"

Rose bit her lip as the sounds of crashing and shouting got closer. Her grandfather furrowed his brows and her grandmother shut the glass door, standing guard at the window.

Grandpa Granger's voice quieted. "What but design of darkness to appall? If design govern in a thing so small."

As if on cue, the screeching siren of hospital-wide alarms blared through the air. "Code silver, code silver. This is not a drill. Code silver, code silver. This is not a drill."

Rose watched, a feeling of helplessness binding her, as her Medi-witch frantically ran in to the room, shouting commands to her grandparents. A spell was cast on the door before the Medi-witch ran out. Rose felt her heart thump wildly in her chest. Her grandparents moved curtains over the windows and quickly piled chairs, bed trays, and any furniture as a blockade in front of the door. They turned the lights off and she shivered.

"What?" her voice speaked.

"Shh... duck. We have to be really quiet right now," her grandmother whispered, taking her hand.

"What?" she repeated, quieter.

"The hospital's being attacked, duck. We won't let anything happen to you. Hold my hand tight now and stay really quiet," her grandmother barely breathed.

The sound of crashing and glass breaking got louder. She wasn't ready for the sound of the screams that followed, the drumming of spells rebounding like explosions against her door, or the sound of simultaneous glass doors shattering, including her own.

The Great Hall glowed in candlelight, a variety of foods had appeared across the table. A feast fit for kings. Albus had arrived just in time for dinner, eager to spill the news to him about Rose. Hospitals terrified him, but then again, he'd only experienced hospitals and death together, not survival.

"I'm so glad she's going to be okay!" Will watched as Albus nodded his head. "Did they figure out why she had a stroke? Or why she was outside of the Slytherin dorm so early?"

"Well, that's just it…" Albus hesitated and took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "According to the Healers, she's perfectly healthy and shouldn't have had a stroke. They detected a spell on her though. They weren't able to tell which spell… just that whoever had cast it was unskilled and it had gone awry. Kind of like your levitating charm this morning! They think her magic battled against the spell, maybe gave her amnesia of the event."

Will shivered at the thought of someone attacking students in the dead of dawn.

"Were you able to talk with your parents about that chocolate frog card?" Will asked, curious. He stirred his soup with his spoon lazily, appetite gone.

"No… it didn't feel like the right time," Albus muttered between bites of fish and chips drenched in malt vinegar. "Uncle Ron did admit that they've been keeping secrets and had been planning to talk to me during the holidays. I'm allowed to ask James and Teddy about it though."

Albus paused. "There was something else odd. While we were leaving the hospital, my aunt and uncle ran into an old classmate. Someone by the name of Malfoy. He'd had this giant tattoo of a skull and snake on his forearm. My Uncle Ron said it was the symbol of a Death Eater… I guess that's someone who was in Voldemort's inner circle."

"You don't think someone who followed Voldemort is loose here… that they couldn't attack your cousin?" Will shivered.

"Well, perhaps." Albus leaned in closer, "But what was peculiar was Mr. Malfoy's tattoo itself. It was corroding the skin around it. The man was there at St. Mungo's because of it! It looked like he was scared, like it'd never happened before."

"What could that mean…" Will began but was cut off mid-thought.

"Headmistress McGonigal!" Filch bellowed across the Great Hall as the sound of the massive doors boomed shut. "We have an intruder!"

WIll listened as a breath of silence fell like snow upon the room. He strained his neck to get a glimpse of Filch, hands clasping the neck of a young girl. Panting hard, the girl defiantly waved a letter over her head.

"I accept my invitation! I accept my invitation to Hogwarts!" The girl cried out between gasps for breath.

Will watched as a shadow of shock fluttered across Headmistress McGonigal's face. "And may I ask who are you?"

"Sköll," the girl roared, pushing Filch's hand off of her shoulder and stomping in mud-drenched combat boots up to the podium where the headmistress and the professors stood.

"Sköll Grayback," the girl announced and handed her letter over to Professor McGonigal. "And I accept my invitation to your school of witchcraft and wizardry."

A collective gasp arose from the house tables, cracking the silence and sending a surge of goosebumps across his skin. He turned to Albus whose eyes widened ever so slightly. Was that fear?

"Who's she?"

Albus opened his mouth to answer, but the headmistress continued to talk.

"I had wondered when our book included your name… if you would accept." Headmistress McGonigal opened the letter and peered over her spectacles.

"Yes. Well, I apologize for my tardiness. As you can imagine, getting away, and finding this place, was… a challenge."

McGonigal hesitated. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Sköll Grayback."

The hall erupted in a sea of hisses and whispers.

"Who is she?" Will asked again, gripping Albus by the arm.

"I don't know much about the war… or what my dad does as an Auror. But I overhear things now and then." Albus took a breath and continued, "Grayback. Fenrir Grayback is someone my dad and his colleagues have been trying to hunt down for as long as I can remember. Some are reluctant to admit he's even alive."

"Is he one of those Death Eaters?"

"I'm not sure... Grayback is notorious though, especially for kidnapping children. Sometimes killing them, sometimes eating them even. He's… he's a…"

"Yes?" Will held his breath.

Albus hesitated, looking directly into his eyes. "He's a werewolf."