Author's note: Thank you to all you who favourited/followed this story. Back in 1997 guys, after Tom and Anna consummated their marriage in the last chapter.
August 1997 - A Certain Mr. Poisonwood
"If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle."
― Sun Tzu, The Art of War
A young man with jet black hair looked at his reflection in the window shop. His scar was well concealed behind a football cap, a decision he had made after hours of tergiversation. Certainly, looking like a Muggle would help not to draw attention on him in the streets, had agreed Hermione. But now that he stood in front of the abandoned store which concealed the entrance of St Mungo's, he was overcome by doubt.
What if the place was riddled with Death Eaters, or any other bloodthirsty enemy who waited for nothing but to lay hands on them? What if they were actually about to walk into the lion's den?
His hand began to tremble, but he closed his fist to compose himself. They had come so far. Now was not the time to chicken out, he told himself before he pulled the cap further down over his head.
"Let's go" he issued in feigned self-confidence before he turned towards the mannequin that stood behind the store front:
"We're here to access St Mungo's Hospital"
The dummy acquiesced with a subtle nod and the door on his right unlocked in a click. He pried it open and motioned for his friends to follow him.
The pungent smell of disinfectant surrounded the three of them the very moment they stepped in. A white tiled hall appeared, and the bright light that stemmed from the ceiling conferred the room an aseptic look. Around them, people were mainly sitting, holding their heads as if they were about to explode while others were pressing a cloth on a seeping wound.
Harry headed straight to the reception desk, behind which stood a witch in a green dress and white apron. A pair of large and round glasses were hooked on her dress' collar, and for a second, Harry wondered how could such broad spectacles fit on her tiny nose.
"How may I help you sir?" she asked with a smile and a strong Irish accent.
"We're here to see Mrs-"
"Healer-" interjected Hermione next to him before she shot him one of those glances that meant she thought he was being a misogynistic asshole.
"Healer Selwyn" he rectified.
The witch beamed and waved her wand before a heavy book materialised in front of her. She put on her glasses and licked her finger, turned one page, then a second, before she traced an invisible line on the paper.
"What is your name sir?"
Harry closed and opened his mouth before Hermione jumped in.
"Poisonwood" she announced and the witch nodded and patted the register.
"Here you are, Mr. Poisonwood! A funny name, if you don't mind me say, for someone who inhaled bark dust"
The witch giggled at her own joke before she straightened herself up.
"I suppose you're here for the medical follow-up? Healer Selwyn is currently in the lecture hall but she'll be here as soon as the lecture ends. Please, have a seat at the end of the corridor" she smiled before she gestured towards the western aisle.
The trio plodded towards the designated place, luckily hidden from the front desk.
"Mr. Poisonwood?" asked Ron once out of sight, and he glanced at Hermione with a raised eyebrow.
"The reflection in her glasses" she explained.
Ron eyed her warily before he nodded and they sat on the row of chairs. They looked around quietly, the corridor mainly empty if not for the occasional patient walking up or down the aisle before Harry noticed a sign on the opposite wall.
Followed by an arrow, the words "Lecture hall" stood in bold letters, under "Artefacts Accidents" and "Alchemy Room" and without any hesitation, Harry stood up.
He walked through a maze of corridors with his friends on his heels, until they finally reached a row of doors. On one of them, golden lines appeared and began to form letters.
"Healer's ethics summer course" read Hermione while Harry peeked through the one door left ajar. A large room appeared, semicircular like a Roman theatre, filled with about a hundred people. They were listening to the person in the middle, a woman of advanced age, who stood out not only because of the light well that lit up her body, but mainly from the way she held herself, self-confident and proud.
Harry recognised her by her voice, rich and fruity, slightly deep for a woman, and all at once, he found himself transfixed, overwhelmed by that woman's presence, stunned by her face that carried the vestiges of her former beauty, and by the look she gave him when the door behind him slammed shut and echoed in the entire hall...
He felt the urge to turn around under her disapproving glance but Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder, pushed him down the corridor to lead him towards the third row. There, three seats were available, and Harry sat down on the folding chair next to his friends, waiting for the end of the lecture with sweaty palms. When finally the ring resounded in the hall, he stood up, invigorated by such short break and by the tune of the woman's teaching. He elbowed his way through the people in a hubbub of conversations, until he finally reached the professor's desk.
"I don't recall having seen you before" she simply announced while she closed a book shut and placed it in her bag. Her lime-green robe seemed even brighter from up close, and clashed with the grey of her eyes, and Harry thought that if they still had any doubt of who she was, it was now dispelled, for he had never seen anyone with such a piercing glance.
"Did you miss the first lecture last week?"
She barely looked at them, all busy she was gathering her belongings. Her movements were rushed, like if she was expected elsewhere, probably to meet Mr. Poisonwood, Harry thought.
"We-" he began before he realised he had no idea how to start the conversation. Surely, a "we know who you are and we need your help to hunt down the evil items your crazy ex-husband made" was not the best approach.
The woman raised her eyebrows as if to show that she was waiting.
A certain magnificence emanated from her, tinged with a severity that made him shy. Somehow, the woman made him think of their Transfiguration professor...
"We have a task we thought you could help us with" intervened Hermione with a small voice that showed she was feeling just as coy as him. The woman looked at her, her silver gaze fixing upon the girl before she got back to pick up her things. She waved her wand, and the scattered papers on the desk neatly organised themselves and slipped inside an attaché-case.
"I'm available for apprentices' questions during my office hours. You can inquire about free slots with the witch at the reception desk" she simply replied before she hoisted the bag on her shoulder and grabbed the briefcase.
"It's not -"
"I'm sorry, but I am awaited somewhere else. Now if you'll excuse me"
She turned around, and her high heels clicked on the floor as she pulled away. Harry's heart sunk in his chest, and he searched for his friends' glances but the two of them seemed even more deflated than he was.
"Oh why bother..." rumbled Ron who shook his head. "I told you this was a shit plan"
Harry let out a heavy sigh, and once again, he considered turning around, leave without looking back. The last days had been so entirely draining that he was not sure he had the strength to keep fighting and he let his hands fell down lifelessly at his sides, but the moment he was about to hunch on himself and lumber back towards Grimmauld Square, his palm brushed his pocket, and he felt the object it concealed, and just like that, Harry recalled Dumbledore's last words.
Keep going.
"Wait!"
His voice boomed in the lecture hall and the woman stopped and peeked at him over her shoulder. She frowned, and soon enough, awe replaced confusion on her face while she stared at the object the young man brandished, that now dangled from his fingers.
"Do you know this?"
—
The whistling of a tea kettle broke the silence in the room, soon followed by a shuffling. There was the sound of a cupboard that opened and closed, and the clinging noise of china, until finally the kitchen door turned on its hinges and revealed the witch they had come to meet.
Healer Selwyn entered the living room with a levitating tray that she placed on the table carefully, with slow like hindered movements as if her limbs were stiff, and now that she had swapped her healer's robe for something more comfortable, Harry thought that the woman seemed less intimidating.
"Professor Dumbledore informed me that you might try to get in touch with me" she announced without ceremony before she waved her wand and the teacups arranged themselves in front of each one of them.
"I must say, though, that I did not expect to see you at all, especially now that he passed away…"
The teapot rose in the air, poured its fuming content in each of the cups while the woman sat down opposite them. Her features were stern, her lips pressed in a thin line and Harry could not decide whether she seemed affected or not by the headmaster's death.
"However, with all due respect, I do not understand why you came to me"
The woman grabbed a small pot with her creased hand, poured a splash of milk in her tea before the spoon that lay on the saucer jumped in the beverage to stir it.
Everyone fell quiet for a while, and nothing was to be heard except for the jingling sound of the crockery.
"Well…" began Harry under the encouraging looks of his friends.
"We were appointed by Professor Dumbledore to finish something he had started. Locate and destroy -"
"- Horcruxes. Objects Voldemort had used to lock fragments of his soul" interjected the witch with a hand gesture.
"That much I know. Dumbledore already informed me of his 'plan' and I can assure you that I took the opportunity to share my concerns with him. Surely, sending three… young people like you after one of the things Voldemort is so dedicated to protect is absurdly dangerous"
She shook her head from left to right with furrowed brows and Harry peeked at Ron who grew even paler than he had been when they had left St Mungo's.
After Harry had showed Healer Selwyn the locket back in the lecture hall, the woman had rushed towards them, placed her hand on his to conceal it. "You're not safe here" she had whispered in a rush while she had looked around, and pulled a quill out of her purse to scribble an address on the first piece of parchment she had found.
"Meet me there at four sharp. Hurry" she had issued when she had shoved the note in his hand, and urged them to leave the room through the backdoor, for aspiring Death Eaters had infiltrated the ranks of the healers' trainees.
"We're not going there" had refused Ron once they had escaped the building, but Harry's curiosity had taken control over his friend's fear once more.
"It's too late now, we didn't come that far to give up so close to our goal. We have to go" he had issued, and just like that, they had found themselves on the threshold of the healer's apartment.
"They won't find you here" she had disclosed when she had opened the door, to reveal a lavish place filled with books and potted plants. "I casted a powerful charm on the apartment. It should hold a couple of hours"
And since then, they had been sitting in the woman's living room, Harry carefully avoiding Ron's glare who just refused a cookie the woman offered him.
"Anyway…"
Healer Selwyn heaved out a sigh.
"All this prattle does not answer my question. I do not know what Dumbledore had you believe, but my knowledge about Horcruxes is very limited. I know neither where they are, nor how to destroy them"
"But you are aware of their existence" ventured Hermione.
The witch glanced at the latter, her piercing eyes fixing upon her. She took her time to respond, holding the cup of tea in front of her face, steam dancing before her grey eyes while she gauged the girl with an indecipherable air.
"Of course" she replied. "But so do all of Voldemort's close friends. The Death Eaters usually have a head start on such things until, eventually, the Ministry realises what is going on"
"So the Death Eaters might know of their location?"
"Possible" she surmised.
"And they are protecting them?"
"Most likely"
"Do you think they might change their location? Muddy the waters?"
The healer took a sip of her tea and stroked her chin as if she was pondering over Hermione's query.
"They might, yes, but not if they think their hiding place is safe enough"
Hermione nodded, and she brought her cup of tea to her lips too.
Silence stretched once again and Harry looked at the clock above the door that led to the kitchen.
"Now, did I answer all your questions?"
The witch's tone was composed, and she glanced at Harry above her glasses for a long time. The latter opened and closed his mouth before he exchanged a look with Hermione.
"Actually…" he began, listing in his head all the arguments he could gather to sound convincing in fear of a potential rejection. They had barely scratched the surface of what they came for, and Harry wanted to know more. So much more.
"We came to you because we thought you could tell us a bit about your story"
"My story?"
The witch raised her eyebrows, so high they disappeared under her grey hair and Harry's cheeks reddened when he remembered how the three of them had pried into the woman's life, all the private photos, the intimate memories that were not theirs to see, all those stolen moments that they had dissected, discussed and analysed, unbeknownst to her.
"Professor Dumbledore told us about your familiarity with You-Know-Who" mumbled Ron when no one spoke and the woman took a sharp breath and looked at them with a cryptic air.
Harry feared she would clothe herself in a well-deserved indignation, but instead of dismissing them, she glanced down, as if embarrassed, and she looked youthful suddenly, like the young woman she had once been. Harry remembered Dumbledore's assumption, which he had shared with him once during their private lessons, something about the woman's familiarity with the Dark Lord, their closeness, and Harry recalled the smile on those photos of her, her blissful air on each one of them...
"I see…" she replied in a whisper before she put her teacup back in the saucer.
"What did he tell you exactly?"
"We know of your marriage, of your… stay in Azkaban"
She closed her eyes for a long second, opened them again.
"What exactly do you know about my 'stay'?"
"That you were… framed for a murder he committed"
"Ah…" she murmured with a snort. "Is this what Dumbledore told you?"
"It's… what he believed"
She nodded quietly and placed her hands on her laps.
"Did Dumbledore tell you how I got out?"
Harry shook his head ever so slightly and the woman looked down, flattened the folds of her skirt, a dignified expression on her face.
"It is not thanks to his doing nor because the Ministry was being lenient. I was only released after someone confessed being the perpetrator of the crime. Nine months after I got in"
The young man exchanged a glance with the others.
"Did Dumbledore have any other extravagant theory about why I am not sitting by his side today?"
"We…" began Hermione.
"We only know that we struggled to find you. That no matter how hard we searched, proofs of your marriage with Voldemort were nowhere to be found. As if you had both tried to erase any trace of your union"
The woman had a small laugh and a bitter smile showed on her lips.
"Oh, that's because I left"