71. The Unicorn, The Lake, and the Stone Circle

I apparated first to the northern coast of Belgium. A windy, snowy beach with waves white and crashing in the darkness. From there I apparated again to a tiny seaside town in Kent, and finally to the meadow outside of the Burrow.

A fire was burning inside of the house despite the early hour, and the warm light filtered through the snowflakes. I was dizzy and stiff-jointed and freezing cold as I approached. I had planned to stay here and rest for an hour or so to regain my strength, but the sight of the fire was a welcome surprise. I hoped to see familiar faces and hear some news before continuing north.

I knocked on the front door, and it was answered by someone wholly unexpected.

"Wilma?" she said. Her face was tired and worn, but her eyes were warm and curious.

"Frederica?" I said, confused by her presence here. "Why aren't you in France?"

She opened the door wider and I stepped in from the cold. "We heard about what happened and couldn't keep from helping," she said, keeping her voice low.

"Are any of the Weasleys here now?"

"No, it's just me and my husband. Oh…" She looked at me as though remembering something, and her previously warm demeanour became slightly more closed off. "I am sorry, but I should…"

I looked down to see her hand tightening slightly around her wand. I understood–she had to ask me a question–and I nodded to tell her it was alright. These measures were necessary now. I watched as she thought carefully of a question I would know the answer to–we had never spent more than an hour together.

"I will try to ask another if you can't remember," she said, after a few moments. "What colour was the owl Severus brought, on the day we met?"

I had to strain to remember the day when Frederica had brought the Ministry papers for the annulment of her marriage to Severus. We'd walked down to his office… He'd gone to the owlery, and returned…

"Grey," I whispered, unable to help shivering slightly as the word brought up memories of Greyback's face. I swallowed. "It was a grey owl."

Frederica lowered her wand and went deeper into the house. She really did look exhausted, much less youthful than she'd seemed on that spring day. She looked her age, and I figured she had been awake for many hours.

"Antoine is sleeping upstairs," she said, as I followed her into the kitchen, the lamp lit over the wooden table, the kettle over the fire. "We just returned from a mission in London."

"Did either of you see Severus in the last few hours?" I asked.

A few months ago, the… knowledge of Severus that Frederica and I shared would have caused me to blush; to hesitate to ask her whether she knew his whereabouts. But now I was too exhausted, too hardened to be sensitive to the potential awkwardness.

"I heard he's gone up to join the search for Greyback, around Loch Lomond."

I nodded to myself. Now I could at least be sure he wasn't off on his own somewhere. But being sure of his location only made me want to hurry to catch up. Besides, there was an odd uncomfortable quiet about the Burrow. Staying and sleeping for a few hours didn't feel so appealing when none of the Weasleys were here. It didn't… feel like home.

"I had better go, then," I said. I didn't have the energy to apparate again, but I could use one of the brooms kept in the shed outside. It wouldn't be pleasant flying through the snow, but there was no floo network, and I was unwilling to travel by portkey again.

Frederica had not yet sat down, and now went to the kettle which hung over the fire. "Stay for a few minutes," she said. "Long enough for a cup of tea. You look freezing. Where have you been?"

I allowed myself to be convinced, and sat down heavily in one of the chairs. I watched Frederica fix me tea in a mug, and I cast warming charms on myself. "I was in a safe house on the continent. But I couldn't stay there."

Frederica looked surprised. "Who made you stay there? You're a capable… Oh."

She looked at me knowingly as she set the mug on the table, and I eagerly hovered my hands over the steam.

"It wasn't just him," I said. "Although he'd have had me stay behind."

Frederica sat down and began to sip from a partly-cooled mug of tea she'd made for herself before my arrival. "Are you pregnant?" she asked casually.

I felt a little pinch of bitterness in my throat. "Is it that easy to tell?"

"Well… he'd have wanted you safe either way. But if it wasn't just him, then… yes. Yes, it's easy to tell." Her eyes were tired, but kind.

I nodded my head vaguely, and she seemed to sense that I didn't want to talk about it. I sent a cool breeze over the surface of my tea with my wand to cool it faster, and took an aching swallow, pressing down the lingering guilt over leaving Teddy behind, over my stubborn bitterness about the pregnancy.

I continued taking mouthfuls of the tea, eager to be on my way, but meanwhile asked Frederica about the situation within Britain. They had gotten no further in finding any of the remaining fugitives, and the Carrows had given up no information. Dolohov had been sighted on the Isle of Skye, and Harry, Ron and Hermione had gone there to track him down, but he seemed to have slipped through their fingers again. No-one was any closer to capturing Malfoy, and at least three people had fallen victim to the creatures every day since Halloween. There were upwards of twenty unresponsive witches and wizards in St. Mungo's now.

"I'm surprised Severus didn't go there," Frederica said, in conclusion. "Antoine and I heard he was using his Legilimency to try to sort it out."

There was a moment of silence. I was nearly finished with my tea, and the wind had grown deeper and louder outside, snow blurring the windows.

"How is it, between the two of you?" Frederica gently asked.

I couldn't help but laugh weakly. "Complicated," I said, and drained the remains of my tea. My eyes were drawn to the shape the dregs made at the bottom. My stomach clenched. A small crescent moon.

I shook my head–I really was sleep deprived. That was simply the way the grounds had fallen as I'd tipped the mug.

I set the mug down and stood up from the table. "I really should be going."

Frederica nodded, seeming to sense that I would not be contained any longer. "Be careful," she said.

"Thank you."

I went out of the house into the snow and selected the quickest broom–Ron's cleansweep eleven. For years he had forbidden anyone else to lay a finger on it, but he wasn't here to protest now–and I needed to get to Scotland as quickly as possible. I mounted the broomstick in the meadow, safely securing my wand and tucking my cloak underneath me, and kicked off into the cold snowy sky.

It took time to adjust to the weather, but after using the Impervius Charm, and using my wand to point north, I was able to fly well enough. My greatest enemy proved to be not the snow, but exhaustion–which only grew worse the further I travelled.

Flying in the cold should have made my senses sharp and my mind alert. But my eyelids were as heavy as if I were lying on some warm summer beach somewhere, without a care in the world.

Over Yorkshire I began dropping in altitude, and understood that I was not going to make it all the way to Loch Lomond without sleeping. I also realised that this could be more than simple lack of sleep. My body might be trying to alert me to an oncoming vision.

Knowing there was nothing I could do to put it off, I resigned myself to waiting until morning before further pursuing Severus. I would stop at Remus's cottage in Eddleston, which was now protected by the Ministry, as Arthur had said on Halloween night. I would sleep there until I awoke, and then I would fly on.

I yawned, my eyelids drooping and my broom dropping further, startling me into just enough wakefulness to keep going. Merlin. If Severus knew I was doing this. I could practically hear his voice reprimanding me in my head. Get down from the bloody sky before you fall to your death!

Sharp anxiety pierced through my slow, muddy thoughts. This would be my first night sleeping through a vision without Severus's presence. What if it turned out to be the most frightening yet? I didn't want to wake up screaming alone.

It was this fear which kept me awake–just enough–as I flew over the northern border of England. It took another half hour to reach Eddleston, and when I touched down in the snow-blanketed field outside of Remus's cottage, I was almost numb from the cold and my desperate need to sleep.

I trudged towards the dark-windowed cottage through the snow and the whirling snowflakes, carrying Ron's cleansweep at my side. I swayed with every step, my mind foggy and heavy, my body tingling dangerously. I had the terrible feeling, halfway, that I would not reach the door in time. That I would collapse in the snow and freeze in my sleep, halfway through some awful nightmarish vision.

But I made it to the door.

My hands were numb and I had to unlock and open it with magic. It swung inward and I stumbled over the threshold, slamming it closed against the wind and snow with relief. The broomstick clattered to the floor and I steadied myself against the wall, seeing double.

A single lamp glowed to light, sensing my presence. The cottage was empty, although there was evidence of recent occupants: mugs of tea left on the round table in the kitchen, and a map spread between them. Very heavily, I took off my boots by the door, and desperately stumbled down the hallway to the bedroom, leaning on the wall the whole way.

Being in this room again, where Remus and I had first touched, would undoubtedly have made me emotional under different circumstances. But as it was, I was too exhausted to think about it. I managed to untie my travelling cloak from around my neck and shrug it off my shoulders before collapsing on the bed. My feet were hanging over the edge, and my head wasn't even remotely near the pillows. But I had no time or energy to correct this as I was immediately pulled under.

I knew at once that this dream was not like the others. It was a vision, yes, but not one that was happening now. The blue sky was bright with midday sun, and the trees which waved outside the windows of Hieronymus's shop in the lakes district were dressed in autumn colours. Hieronymus was standing behind his desk, and a tall wizard with dark brown hair was standing in front of him, his face unseen. Hieronymus was looking at him with defiance in his eyes.

"It is absolutely illegal," Hieronymus said. I could tell he was repeating himself. "No-one sells it. I cannot get it."

"I highly doubt that no-one sells it." The voice was unfamiliar, but there was something in its particular inflection that I distantly recognised.

"No-one I know," Hieronymus said, his chin jutting out.

The other wizard leaned forward. "No-one you know, or no-one you do business with?"

"No-one I know," Hieronymus insisted. He was trembling slightly now, but with conviction rather than fear. He gestured to the door. "Good day."

There was a moment of tense silence. Then the wizard with dark brown hair began to turn. I strained for a glimpse of his face, but the scene dissolved before I could see enough of it. I was reminded of how it had felt to watch Severus's memories in the Pensieve, and I had to sharpen my focus to adjust as the next part of the vision fell into place around me.

I was now within an opulent dressing room within a house. Morning sunlight streamed through the large windows, making the silver handles of the furniture and the gilded frame of a tall oval mirror glint. Pansy Parkinson stood in the centre of the room, wearing a giant white wedding gown, and Draco Malfoy was standing by the door. Their voices were distorted for the first few moments, as though underwater. But I could tell they were close to shouting at each other.

"And you show up now?" Pansy said. "For the fucking wedding?"

"It's not my fault we weren't in each other's letters!" Draco said, his voice bitter and finishing with a hiss. "In the past my father could have done something about it, but not anymore."

"Fucking Greengrass, Draco?" Pansy was on the verge of tears. "How could you?"

"Who else was I meant to choose? That mudblood so-called Weasley? Astoria was the only suitable match on my list besides you, and father wanted you!"

Pansy's face fell, and so did Draco's, as he realised his mistake. "What?" she whispered sharply, a poorly concealed horror behind her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Draco said, his voice trembling. "There was nothing I could… He said your family was more– He said he would prefer–"

"Get out." Pansy pointed her finger at the door, her arm shaking, sending a slight tremor of rage through the many white layers of her gown. Draco looked at her, his face completely drained. "Get the fuck out! Get out!"

The room fell away and I realised that these events must have taken place just over a year ago, in the middle of October. Around the time I had first gone to Eddleston to negotiate with Remus.

There was little time to process what I had witnessed before a new scene materialised.

I was following Pansy down the main staircase of the Malfoy Manor, which I recognised with a vile sensation from the night I had spent with Lucius. She walked through a wide echoing room, passing beneath a row of watchful and eerily silent portraits, and went through a set of double doors, beyond which stood another. She seemed to tremble slightly before she knocked, but the sound was firm and confident.

The sound of male voices came from beyond the ebony wood, and a moment later the door swung open to reveal a tall man with dark brown hair. "Show yourself out, Baddock," said a second voice from within. I felt chills, both from the recognition of Lucius's voice, and the recognition of the tall man's name. I realised that this was the same man I had seen with Hieronymus, and it had been Malcolm Baddock's privileged drawl I had heard echoes of in his father's voice.

Baddock looked down his nose at Pansy, inclined his head slightly to her, and smirked as he strode through the double doors and through the portrait room. Pansy looked after him for a moment before she turned her unrevealing gaze upon her new husband.

He was seated behind a massive mahogany desk, and his eyes appraised his young wife coldly. I shivered as I recalled how Pansy had described their first night together, and found myself full of a strange and unfamiliar empathy as I detected the slightest flutter of fear in Pansy's shoulders.

"Don't stand there like a dumb pig," Lucius said crisply. "I don't bite this early in the morning."

Pansy stepped into Lucius's study and left the door open behind her. "A pity you're forced to consort with men like that," she said, her voice defiant. "Now that most of the twenty-eight are imprisoned."

Lucius seemed to take no active issue with her tone, though he clearly took note of it. "He was here about the matter we discussed last night."

Pansy crossed her arms. "I think it's sick."

Lucius's eyebrows lifted slightly above his cold eyes, daring her to continue. "Oh?"

"Would you want one of them to come after you?" Pansy said, now entering dangerous territory. I felt my body tremble in its sleep, from the ice of Lucius's eyes. "Would you want to see the late Mrs. Malfoy's face?"

I expected Lucius to pounce. But he remained still and cold. "They won't come after me," he said. "I'll control them."

Pansy shifted slightly on her feet. "How do you expect to do that?"

Lucius smiled an empty, terrifying smile, and rose slowly from his desk. He turned his back on Pansy and looked out the window upon the extensive grounds of his estate. "I fear, after last night, you may not prove very useful to me. But there is something I need procured. Perhaps, if I entrust this task to you, you might manage to redeem yourself."

Bitterness twisted Pansy's face, but her eyes were hard. "What is this task?"

Darkness fell around me and I was suddenly within the Forbidden Forest. The night was thick and black, and the distant calls of owls and other creatures sounded through the tall trees.

"Come on, Astoria."

The voice was Pansy's, and she spoke in a demanding and condescending whisper as she addressed a nervous-looking Astoria Greengrass, who was trailing behind her through the dark forest.

"We shouldn't be here at night," Astoria hissed. Her body was tense, and it was clear she was waiting for something to jump out at her at any moment.

"We couldn't exactly wander into the forest in daylight without attracting suspicion," Pansy retorted. "McGonagall would have been upon us in an instant."

"Yes, and now they're all sleeping soundly they won't notice if we send up red sparks. Very well planned, Pansy. And we both know we won't ever find–"

They both stopped short, and their faces softened into expressions of disbelief.

There was a very long minute of silence, and then Pansy spoke. "I told Lucius he was mad to expect… But perhaps… The stars aligned…"

Her words were completely sincere, and as I saw what they had seen for the first time, I understood why their mood had changed so abruptly.

A dead Unicorn was lying in the centre of a clearing, filling the blackness with a strange star-like glow. Its hair fell in long thin strands against the dirt and its eyes were black and unseeing.

Astoria stood back as Pansy approached the creature. "What do you think did it?" she asked.

"Age, maybe," Pansy said, as she examined the creature, with a kind of shocked respect in her posture. "Look. The hairs are grey."

"Do you think we should take them too?"

"No. Only the blood."

Pansy knelt down beside the dead creature, which was far larger than it had looked from a distance, and took two handfuls of empty glass vials from her pockets, thirteen in total. Astoria regarded them warily. "Shouldn't have stolen those."

"He'll never notice," Pansy said, uncorking the first one. "There were hundreds in that closet."

Pansy drew her wand and, with hesitation in her wrist, murmured "Diffindo." A small slit opened in the Unicorn's neck, but no blood came out.

"Its heart isn't beating," Astoria said.

Pansy pressed her wand tip to the cut and tried, "Accio blood." A moment passed, and then she held up the vial to the laceration as glowing silver blood began to slowly drip from the wound.

Over a number of minutes she filled all thirteen vials, putting each one back into her pocket once its cork was secure. Astoria stood shivering in the October cold, looking around at the trees and startling at every little sound in the forest.

"All done," Pansy said, as she corked and pocketed the last vial. She pressed her wand to the cut and closed it, and checked for drops of blood on the ground. There were none.

"Pansy…"

Astoria was now staring at a fixed point, and I saw the second unicorn when Pansy did. It was watching the two girls, silent and still. Though its gaze was not threatening, both Pansy and Astoria knew that their presence beside one of its dead could potentially anger it. Power radiated from the living unicorn, and in the pale, pure light it gave off, what they had done to its dead companion now seemed especially vile.

Pansy slowly stood up and stepped away from the dead unicorn. "Grab my hand," she said to Astoria.

Astoria obeyed, and together they apparated to the edge of the forest, the edge of the protective boundary which surrounded the grounds of the school.

Pansy opened her pockets and looked in to ensure that none of the vials had shattered. Judging from her expression, they were all intact.

"We were lucky," Astoria said, pressing her hand to her heart. "That was completely idiotic."

Pansy smiled darkly, but did not laugh. "You're going to love what he's said to do next."

The scene changed. It was another night, perhaps the very next, and both Pansy and Astoria were standing at the edge of the black lake, shielded from the castle by the trees. Pansy was stripping down to her underthings. It was very dark and cold, and irregular gusts of wind came across the water, the waning crescent moon illuminating the rippling surface.

Astoria's eyes were full of doubt and fear, and when I realised what Pansy's state of undress implied, I became equally afraid. "Pansy, it's going to be freezing!"

"I'm going to use heating charms," Pansy said, shivering in the wind. "I'll be fine."

"How are you going to breathe?"

"The bubble charm Diggory used in the Triwizard Tournament."

"What about the mermaids?"

To this, Pansy did not respond. She was now down to her knickers and brassiere, eyeing the water nervously.

Astoria stepped forward and gripped Pansy's shoulder. "What do I do if you're not back in an hour?"

Pansy turned to her with a fierce look in her eyes. "Don't wake anyone."

"But… Pansy, you could–"

"I won't."

Pansy slowly dragged her wand from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes, spreading a warming charm over her body. Then she cast the bubble charm over her head. Her voice was slightly muffled as she spoke to Astoria. "Start timing."

Astoria looked at her dubiously, but there was nothing she could do as Pansy stepped out into the shallows. She gasped at the first contact of her skin with the water. It must have been positively arctic. I felt myself shivering empathetically as she waded out into the lake, and then, with no other choice, submerged herself.

She swam out further into the lake, past the weeds and over a lip of small boulders, magically propelling herself forward. Time seemed to move more quickly in the vision as she pushed herself through the water into the pitch-black depths of the lake. I felt her fear as she kept her eyes open for signs of merpeople. But none of them appeared. Her arms and legs working furiously, she swam deeper.

And then a small glinting object appeared, far below, pulsing with a steady silver light…

The scene changed for the last time and as it did I unravelled the unnerving sense of déjà vu which had come over me at the sight of the silver object.

I'd dreamed it, in this same bed, one year ago. My body had been cold and small, desperately pushing itself through the waters. I'd seen the object, glinting from the sandy lake floor, and known I had to retrieve it. Had to, or something awful would happen. I'd strained and strained, but I had been unable to make it to the bottom. The water was too cold, and too deep, and I was running out of air. I had turned back, but the surface was too far, and I'd inhaled.

Clearly the same fate had not befallen Pansy.

Snatches of conversation echoed in my mind as the final scene in the vision settled into stillness around me– "We should wait one more week, for All Hallows' Eve." "No. The veil is thin enough." –and then I saw the silver object sitting upon a stone altar, alongside the thirteen vials of unicorn blood. It was a small stone, the size of Teddy's little fist, and it shone with a light as cold and bright as a distant star.

Pansy herself was standing in the circle of people which surrounded a giant cauldron, in the centre of the ancient stone circle. Wildly forested countryside fell away all around the hill, and a faint breeze whispered in the trees. A thin waxing crescent moon shone over the scene, and I recalled the shape my tea leaves had taken at the bottom of my mug in the Burrow.

Something had just been added to the giant cauldron. Something that looked terribly like a long, human bone. The dark black liquid inside was humming a dark, evil note, and the faces of the people in the circle were set and grave.

"The blood, Draco," Lucius said. "Two at a time, and then the last."

Draco obeyed, his body trembling slightly as he walked to the stone altar which formed part of the stone circle, and took two vials of silver blood, one in each hand. He returned to the cauldron and poured them both in simultaneously, one in a small clockwise circle, and the other in a small counter-clockwise circle, both meeting at the edge to form an infinity symbol upon the surface of the cauldron.

I watched with the others–Lucius, Pansy, Astoria, Baddock, and an older man and woman I did not recognise–as Draco walked between the altar and the cauldron, adding six pairs of vials to the now-grey liquid in this manner. The final, thirteenth vial, he carried in his left hand, and poured into the cauldron very slowly, straight into the centre.

He rejoined the circle. The cauldron's humming now moved to a higher pitch. The wind went quiet and the trees went still as nature herself sensed the growing power which the ancient stones surrounded.

A minute was allowed to pass.

Then Lucius himself parted the circle. He walked slowly to the altar, took the silver stone into his hands, and walked slowly back. He held the stone over the cauldron, and the beams of the narrow moon filled it and strengthened its own light.

Lucius began to chant, in a language I did not know or recognise. It was dark and guttural, and cold. He spoke, and then paused. The wind surged in the treetops, and with a ragged, collective breath, each person in the circle joined in repeating the chant. Then the stone slipped through Lucius's hands, appearing to float on the surface of the liquid before being sucked down and consumed into the centre of the dark magic at work in the cauldron.

The contents of the cauldron churned violently, and then calmed. The people fell silent as the surface moved and shifted, and thirteen small figures hovered into the air and the moonlight. They hung suspended for a moment, dripping and uncurling, and then lowered to the ground around the cauldron, twitching as they slowly gained strength and stood up. They looked like small, grey, clay children. Eyeless and thin ribbed and without variation. They seemed to sense the presence of the people around them, and moved their heads curiously.

Lucius summoned the stone and it went to him, hovering up from the cauldron and through the air, as clean and clear as if the grey liquid had never touched it. Lucius held the stone in his palm, and slowly all thirteen heads turned towards him. He did not speak, but they knew his will. And they travelled out of the stone circle, walking, still small and hunched over, into the forest.

As they travelled, they grew. Childlike frames lengthened and strengthened into small adult-sized bodies. They remained grey, and pale, and more solid than flesh. But they did not become any more human. They were solid ghosts, hinting at life but not embodying it. For that, they needed a source. A desperate mind, and a heart torn apart by grief.

After some distance they parted ways, and I was pulled along behind one of them alone. I followed it through the depths of the night, through the depths of many forests. And then, at last, an opening came into sight. A field, with a long, stone wall running through it, a tree at its midpoint. And, beyond, a small cottage, its windows all dark. The creature watched and waited, seeming to sense that its first victim lay within.

I went cold as the back door opened, and I emerged.

I saw my distant face, twisted from a nightmare, and my mouth gasping for air. I watched myself look up at the sky, at the stars, and the waxing moon, desperate for peace.

Then the creature stepped forward, to the edge of the trees.

I watched myself go pale as the creature showed me Fred's body. Fred's face. As it beckoned to me with Fred's hand. It lingered there a moment longer, and then it turned around and walked slowly into the woods, luring me.

I was left to watch myself. My mouth moved soundlessly for a moment. Then my voice finally broke free. "FRED!" I watched my body break into motion, running down towards the woods from the house, the door open behind me. "FRED!"

I felt my heart pounding, desperate to awaken as my own haunted eyes grew closer and closer, and I heard Remus calling from the open door. The strength of my sleeping body pulled and deepened, and the vision suddenly dissolved as I was caught up in a sharp, screaming wind. I was impaled again and again by freezing confusion, and in desperation my mind reached out for Severus's presence.

In my passage I briefly saw a tiny town, snowy and cold in the shadow of a tall hill, and heard its name.

Laggan.

Then, with a gasp, I woke up.

The early morning sun shone weakly through the snow, and filtered through the window to fall upon the bed. I was trembling, but did not feel ill. I did feel frightened, and the information delivered by the sequence of dreams was overwhelming.

I looked out the window at the woods behind the house and shivered. On the very night the creatures had been released into the world, I'd dreamed of swimming down through the depths of the Black Lake. It had not been a random nightmare, but something quite real. I sat up and tightly held one of the pillows, thinking it through. The beings had been created. It was not clear why but the who of the matter was abundantly clear.

Lucius had said to Pansy that he would control the creatures. Clearly his means of doing so was the stone. But where was it now? What had happened to it, after he'd been sent to Azkaban? And why had the creatures suddenly become more violent after Halloween? I recalled the mysterious cloaked figure and the case in Hieronymus's shop. What had the man been delivering? Was it something to make the creatures more violent and powerful? And why were Thorfinn Rowle and Walden Macnair interrogating him now?

I realised that I was now the only person, besides those present inside the stone circle that night, who knew the creatures' true form. Though the sight had been disturbing, it made me feel somehow stronger, knowing what they looked like underneath.

I gathered my thoughts and summoned my patronus. I told everything I had seen to the blue raven, and sent it to Kingsley. I wished Severus was here to interpret some of the meaning. I was certain Severus knew more than I did about the sort of ritual Lucius had led, and my explanation of what I had witnessed was scattered and messy.

But Kingsley replied promptly, and as I listened to him confirm what I had told him, I realised just how important this set of dreams had been. We now had an explanation for the creatures' existence; and a potential way to stop them from attacking anyone else. Lucius had to be found, and that stone.

The house was silent under the soft morning snow, and I was still shaking slightly as I padded out into the kitchen. The mugs of tea and the map I'd noticed last night were still spread across the table. No-one had come while I was asleep.

I found a store of potions that one of the Order members or aurors must have brought for emergencies. It included a vial of numbing potion, and I took it at once. I felt it go directly to my head, where it would soon be needed.

I wanted to continue on to Loch Lomond at once, but was very hungry from my hours of travel the night before, and from the energy which had been required of my body even during sleep. I found enough food to put together a small breakfast, and ate at the table, letting my eyes roam over the map.

Suddenly a name popped out at me. Laggan. The name I had heard as my mind struggled to free itself from sleep. I stopped eating and touched the small black dot which indicated a village at the western edge of the Cairngorms.

Two faint pops sounded outside in the snow, and I looked up quickly from the map to see Minerva and Luna walking across the field towards the front door. They were talking to each other, and I was certain it was really them, but still I knew no chances could be taken. I went to the door and opened it, raising my wand as they saw me and stopped in front of the cottage.

"What did I bring to your office at the end of March?" I asked Minerva.

Minerva's face tightened slightly, but her eyes were steady. "The Resurrection Stone," she answered.

Luna's eyebrows lifted. "You found the Resurrection Stone?" she asked, as I stepped aside to let the two of them into the relative warmth of the cottage. "Did you use it?" I hesitated for a moment, and she smiled softly. "You don't have to answer."

"Where did the two of you come from?" I asked, changing the subject. I assumed that they had been here recently–the mugs and the map were likely theirs.

"Loch Lomond," Minerva answered, her eyes narrowing slightly. "And I suspect that's why you've come here, Miss Weasley."

I looked down, slightly ashamed. She had been the first to tell Severus and me to stay put. Hers had been the first orders I'd disobeyed by leaving the safety of Grimmauld Place to investigate the Dark Mark.

"...But I knew you wouldn't stay away for long," she continued. I looked back up at her, and I now saw the slightest flicker of pride in her eyes. We were both Gryffindors, after all. She seemed to understand why I hadn't been capable of staying put, even to admire me for it.

"Did you see Severus, when you were there?" I asked.

"Yes," Luna said. She was taking off her boots by the door and pulling up her long blue socks over her trousers. "He was there for an hour or two, but then he went off on his own. He seemed to think we had the wrong forest."

I looked again at the map on the table. At the little dot which represented the town of Laggan. Greyback had said he would take the boys to the woods north of Glasgow. Could be the Cairngorms, I thought to myself. That was certainly what Severus seemed to believe. I had seen a flash of the village when I'd reached out for his presence. He must have passed through it before entering the forest.

A wave of nausea rolled through my stomach. "Excuse me," I said quickly, and hurried down the hallway to the loo.

When I emerged two minutes later, Luna and Minerva were both drinking tea to warm themselves. They looked exhausted. I supposed they were alternating shifts with others, and had come here to sleep a while before joining the search again.

"Still no sign of Greyback?" I asked.

"No sign," Minerva answered. "But Kingsley is adamant that we don't give up yet. The protective charms could simply be more complicated than we anticipated."

I nodded to myself. I trusted Kingsley's judgement, and yet I knew I would not be proceeding to Loch Lomond as planned. I would fly further north, and try to catch up to Severus. If he was right, and Greyback was in the Cairngorms… Even though I knew Severus Snape was an immensely capable wizard, something in me couldn't allow him to face such dangers alone.

I said so to Minerva, and her decision not to argue was visible. At her prompting I collected some food to take along with me, securing it in a small bag with an Undetectable Extension Charm. I returned to the bedroom and put on my travelling cloak, and fastened my boots at the door. The cleansweep was still lying on the floor. Leaning it respectfully in the corner, I decided not to take it. Though it would be good for flying over the forest and finding Severus faster, I had regained the strength to apparate. Besides, I knew that Ron would forever scorn me for misplacing or leaving behind his broomstick in the Cairngorms, regardless of the circumstances.

Before I went out the door, I turned back to Minerva. She seemed extremely worn down, and I knew that as soon as I left she would retire for a few hours of well-deserved rest.

"Professor?" I asked, my respect for her age and her knowledge coming out. She looked at me, listening. "Do you know about a powerful stone at the bottom of the Black Lake?"

Minerva furrowed her eyebrows. "No… I don't."

"Are you sure?"

Her eyes were questioning but guarded. "I'm quite sure, Miss Weasley."

I nodded my head, and she did not ask me to explain, seeming to sense it was something I was not sure I should disclose. I bid her and Luna farewell, and stepped outside of the cottage.

The snow was far lighter and clearer than it had been last night, and though the air was sharp and cold, it was not dangerously so. The sunlight fell through the white and silver clouds, and the thin blanket of snow on the field shone brightly, completely perfect and undisturbed but for where Minerva and Luna had left footsteps earlier.

As I walked out a fair distance towards the muggle road, preparing to apparate to the village of Laggan, I remained troubled by the question of the mysterious stone. If McGonagall doesn't know about it, then how did Lucius Malfoy?

I hoped that, once I found Severus, he would be able to answer some of my questions.

After he'd expressed his anger over my escape, of course.

NOTE

Wilma's visions will not dominate future chapters as much as they have the past two. These were necessary to advance the story, and I am grateful for your patience if you found them at all boring or too much of a departure from the main action.

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