Routine settled in eventually, as Amelie spent her first week at Juniper Hall. Her room began feeling a bit more homely, despite the daily challenge of getting in and out of her coffin. After a few nights, she simply tried jumping out and nearly landed flat on her face when she cleared half the room in one leap.
Staring down at her pyjama-covered legs, she could only gawp at what she had managed. Getting dressed and leaving her room, Amelie fought down the urge to sprint along the corridor, just to see how fast she could go.
The library proved to be a bigger hurdle than expected. While the books looked promising, most appeared to be centuries old and almost incomprehensible.
Some were outright written in Latin or other languages Amelie didn't recognize. One tome was filled with pages covered entirely in strange runes. Others, in turn, seemed to whisper and snarl as she approached.
After days of picking out books at random, she managed to stumble upon her family name in something that looked like an almanac of vampire houses. Her excitement was short-lived when she found that all the pages were in French.
She tried, for quite a while, to decipher the extravagantly curved script, but eventually gave up. To think, just a year longer in Muggle school and she might've had a chance to at least grasp the basic gist of what the book said.
What volumes she could pick out to read often contained long diatribes about old feuds and intrigues. Her search, for any book with a title like 'How to be a Vampire: First Grade', remained fruitless.
Outside the manor and its corridors, Amelie strolled through the rose gardens and up to the forest's edge. Despite her best efforts, she still ended up waking well before sunset, leaving her with only Salvatore as silent company.
In the slowly fading evening light, she would sit on a bench in the gardens and read through her text-books, taking notes and finishing essays. The warm summer air would linger until after midnight.
Lady Duras seemed to spend most of the time in her study, occasionally vanishing for a night or two. Christof and Arabella would sometimes join Amelie in the library in between lessons. On a few occasions she noticed Arabella slink off for a 'snack', presumably to Wolverhampton, far outside the forest.
Despite the urge to ask her about her 'hunts', Amelie was, for the moment, content to not think too much about blood. The goblet Salvatore would bring to her room once or twice a week was more than enough to put the topic out of her mind.
Amelie's own plans to explore beyond the manor's boundaries proved difficult.
"Normally it's not too far to fly to the city, but on foot it would take hours and most of the trails are closed off. Can't have people hiking up here and stumbling their way onto the grounds," Arabella explained.
At least she had their brief excursions into the woods around the manor to look forward to.
While there was only the faint moon-light between the trees, Amelie had little difficulty seeing everything around her. The night only seemed to make her senses sharper.
Arabella would tell her to try and follow, before running off into the forest at lightning speed, leaving Amelie to stare. Yet the moment she tried and put some muscle into it, she could feel the trees and brushes flying past her as she ran, becoming a blur in the corner of her eye.
The fresh, pure blood pumping through her body let her push herself further and further. Straining her ears, she could hear Arabella calling out to her to keep up.
Her body felt almost weightless and even minutes into their chase, Amelie wasn't remotely close to being out of breath. Not since the night in the Forbidden Forest had she felt this exhilarated.
Soon enough, she had circled back to the mansion. Arabella was nowhere to be seen, but a chirp quickly drew Amelie's eyes upward. Hanging from the branch of an apple tree was a large bat, its eyes fixated on her. Her nose tingled and Amelie quickly recognized the scent underneath.
Amelie grinned and crossed her arms, watching as the bat let go of the branch. Sailing to the ground, it disappeared in a brief flash of black smoke and Arabella landed on her feet with practised ease.
"Not bad," she purred, "we'll make a proper hunter out of you yet."
Amelie smiled, but the thought of running around the school grounds at night seemed more like it would get her expelled in an instant. She almost wished Hogwarts had sports classes.
It was on a Sunday, not long before midnight, when Amelie first laid eyes on the other familiar, serving the Circle of Hesperus.
Coming out of the drawing-room, Amelie heard the front-door close and, to catch a glimpse of who had arrived, she took the longer way back upstairs.
Joyce was noticeably younger than Salvatore, but the firm expression on her pale face made it hard to guess at her actual age. She had stark, red hair, tied into a tight bun at the back of her head. Like the other familiar, she was dressed in a formal outfit, which in her case consisted of a long-sleeved, black dress with a tall, frilled collar. A white apron covered most of her front.
Amelie stopped on her way to the stairs and gave her a polite nod, mumbling, "Hello."
Joyce returned her greeting with a simple, wordless bow, before folding her cloak over her arm and walking off down a different corridor.
The bat-familiar remained elusive, rarely showing herself in the corridors, unless walking to and from Lady Duras' study.
Preparations for the summer solstice ball happened mostly out of sight. The large hall downstairs was cleared out and cleaned. Salvatore and Joyce could be heard carrying and arranging furniture and Amelie felt, for a moment, as if she should go and help out.
With no other direction, she opted to stay in the library and finish her potions homework. Luckily, none of her assignments required actually using her cauldron or she would've had to ask Lady Duras for some place to work.
Only two days later, Arabella approached her about getting ready for the gathering. Sifting through her donated clothes, Amelie fished out a nice-looking dress that hopefully wouldn't look too shabby, while also not making her stand out too much.
With hours to spare, she found herself sitting down with Arabella and getting her hair braided.
"Just be glad we're long past the age of powdered wigs," her teacher muttered. "We used to have to get up around noon, just to be ready for a ball at midnight."
Joyce worked in silence, combing and weaving strands of hair into a style that reminded Amelie of old BBC shows about the middle-ages. The results did look nice though, leaving her hair in a braid that wrapped around her head like a wreath.
Dressed and styled, Amelie waited in her room for the event to begin. She was mustering her face in the mirror, feeling rather self-conscious about the contrast between the dark eye-shadow Arabella had applied, and her pale skin.
Before long, there was a knock on the door. Christof and Arabella had come to pick her up.
"Relax," he said. "These meetings are fairly routine. Just stay close-by and we'll try to manage anyone who gets too annoying."
Unlike his usual outfit, Christof was wearing a high-collared suit. His hair was slicked back and his beard trimmed.
By contrast, Arabella had let her hair down from her regular braid and was wearing a dark, red dress. The carefully applied makeup only served to underline her porcelain appearance.
The door in the main hall was left open, leaving warm summer air to flow through while the guests trickled in, one or two at a time. Out of the corner of her eyes, Amelie saw something fluttering in the moon-light, before two figures appeared on the gravel path in a poof of black smoke.
Music could be heard coming from the ballroom. The kind of vaguely classical string pieces Amelie had found to associate with radio channels she usually skipped over, before getting to the ones playing tunes that were actually from this century. Given the occasion, the choice in ambience seemed appropriate.
A long, ornate table stood at the head of the ball room, covered in dark, red cloth and holding bottles of what Amelie assumed to be blood. Here and there she saw plates of grapes, oranges and other fruit, which seemed to serve no other purpose than to look pretty.
Sofas and arm-chairs were arranged around the edge of the large room in small seating groups. The middle of the hall was left empty for people to stand and mingle. To her surprise, there were already a number of guests present.
The lavish dresses and suits on display made Amelie feel as if she had stepped into a period drama. Plenty of costumes could pass for dress robes, or at least what Amelie had read about them in her books. There was a distinct tendency towards black silk and white lace, with the occasional splash of red or purple.
Gleaming pairs of eyes were following her, as she walked between Arabella and Christof, so Amelie made sure to keep her head up. Her time staying at Juniper Hall had helped in making her less squeamish, but it was hard not to feel a bit nervous with so many vampires around.
"Quite a crowd already, for a solstice ball," Christof commented between the three of them. "Normally we'd be lucky to have a portion of these numbers present."
"People love news, Christof. And I believe our young ward here is quite the juicy piece of gossip." Arabella shot Amelie a grin, who felt her heart sink a bit. Indeed, as the hall filled up, a lot of visitors were stealing glances in her direction.
"Do they all know about me having magic?" she asked Arabella quietly.
"I suppose they've heard rumours. Most likely they're here to see for themselves."
Just as they had settled in at the side of the room, Salvatore came along, carrying slim champagne glasses, filled with blood, on a tray. They accepted the drinks gladly, although Amelie made sure to steady herself and only took small sips at a time. Her head was already buzzing enough as it was.
Looking around, Amelie noticed a trio of vampires playing violins, two men and a woman. A bagpipe, leaning against the woman's chair, caught her attention, but it didn't seem like they were going to change their tune anytime soon.
The ballroom was almost full up, yet they hadn't been forced into any conversations so far. The rest of the coven seemed to keep a polite distance, as if waiting for permission.
Soon enough, the murmur quieted down as Lady Duras stepped into the chambers, just before the doors were closed. Her frilled, red and black dress appeared even more luxurious than the one she had worn the night Amelie had arrived. It wasn't hard to see her outshining everyone in the room.
The countess walked to the front of the hall, her gaze sweeping across the two or three dozen vampires in attendance. When she began to speak, her voice was barely louder than the conversation they'd had in her study, yet her audience was quiet enough so that every word was heard.
"My dear brothers and sisters, welcome back to our ancestral retreat, to our home. Some of you have graced our halls since last we were gathered here, while some I have not seen in quite some time."
There was a barely perceptible hint of an accusation there. For a brief moment, Amelie envisioned Lady Duras calling members of the Circle on the phone, complaining that they never visited. Holding her breath, she managed to keep her face neutral.
"Nonetheless, the cause for us to convene is a joyous one."
The countess turned to face Amelie, and she found that every vampire in the room had followed. She felt herself growing rigid, as if hit by a petrification curse. To her left and right, Christof and Arabella had stepped away, leaving her the sole centre of attention.
"We accept into our midst, Amelie, a child lost to our world, but finally returned," Lady Duras continued.
"Her return to the fold marks more than the fulfilment of our most ancient traditions. In her presence, we celebrate the resurrection of the noble House Valois. Returned from the ashes with the discovery of its youngest scion."
Lady Duras raised her glass.
Her toast was quickly mirrored across the hall. Every pair of eyes was on Amelie and several guests gave her respectful nods. Clasping her hands in front of her, Amelie tried to hide her nervousness.
With her formal introduction concluded, the countess resumed speaking, but the focus of her words did not return to their youngest member again. Amelie slowly let out a breath, feeling some of the awkward stiffness leaving her body.
She tried to listen, but the names and news meant nothing to her. Every now and then, there was a shift in the crowd, as if something meaningful had been said. An alliance forged here, an insult punished there. Most of it almost seemed like gossip.
The conclusion of Lady Duras' speech was met with another round of cheers and hails, after which the guests resumed their chatter.
The woman among the three vampire musicians picked up her bag-pipes and soon a mournful, but strangely beautiful, melody rang across the chamber. Amelie felt herself reminded of the castle in the north, the home in her heart and the rolling, Scottish landscape reaching as far as the eye could see from the Astronomy Tower.
"Well, that clears that up then," Christof mumbled next to her, pulling Amelie out of her reverie.
She turned and gave him an inquisitive look. Across the floor, the sound of talking once again filled the room.
Nudging his head towards the countess, who was engaged in conversation, Christof explained, "That was quite a bit of information, her ladyship volunteered. Even among the coven, she normally plays her cards close to the chest."
"In other words, she's heading off potential rumours," Arabella said. "Between the lines, she made it clear 'the girl's with us now and anyone who tries anything will have to go through me'."
Amelie only nodded, not daring to ask who 'anyone' might be in that case. "You said there might be some other reasons why Lady Duras accepted me. Is that it?"
Turning to face her, Christof shrugged. "One of them, probably. First and foremost, accepting an orphaned vampire child is any coven's duty. Taking you in certainly helped uphold the Circle's reputation by fulfilling that tradition."
He continued, quietly, "Aside from that, having a blood witch among our numbers certainly doesn't hurt. You may not think too much of your powers just yet, but they could be a boon to the coven in the future."
Amelie nodded slowly, digesting the information. She wasn't too thrilled at the prospect of even more attention.
At the head of the room, Baron Gallowhedd was leaning closer to whisper into Lady Duras' ear, who appeared to be listening half-heartedly at best.
"So, she's the leader of the coven," Amelie began, "does that mean everyone has to do what she says?"
"In a way, yes and no. There's no strictly defined authority, but rather a clear understanding of everyone's place and what's expected of them. Her ladyship will rarely have to utter a direct order," Arabella explained.
Christof grinned and asked, "Why? Do you expect to get bossed around to do chores?"
"I was just curious. We used to have to take turns cleaning up and the like when I was still at the foster home." Amelie's brow furrowed. "Come to think of it, since I'm not at Bow Creek anymore, does that technically make me an adult or something?"
Her teachers both laughed and Arabella said, "You'd like that, wouldn't you? No, by all accounts you're her ladyship's responsibility now. I doubt Dumbledore went and had her registered as your legal guardian, but de facto she is."
Amelie blinked. "And the ministry never asked about me?"
"What makes you think they care about the children of non-wizards?" Christof muttered.
Before long, two vampires approached them; a man with a curly moustache, wearing a monocle, and a woman covered in enough lace to supply every window in the mansion with curtains.
Arabella leaned over and quickly said in a hushed tone, "Walther and Adella Wyrmhallow. Don't let them talk your ear off and you'll be fine."
They gave a short bow and the man, Walther, addressed them. "Pleasant evening, dear brethren." He turned to Amelie and added, "Allow me to welcome you in our midst, young lady. Why 'tis such a delight to see young blood join our circle."
Amelie returned their bow, awkwardly mumbling her thanks.
"Had we known, we would've brought our son Aidan along," Lady Adella explained eagerly. "I'm certain he would've enjoyed the company. Though he's never been one for balls and such occasions."
After the last year, Amelie had not expected her History of Magic lessons to be of much use. She was proven wrong, when her ample training in keeping her eyes open was finally put to the test, as the Wyrmhallows emptied bucket upon bucket of idle small-talk over her head.
Eventually, they took their leave and Amelie was free to turn to Arabella to ask, "Are there any other children in the Circle?"
"Aside from poor Aidan? None that I know of," she replied. "Not that a babe like him would've made for exciting company."
Christof sighed. "The boy's seventeen, Bella."
"Wha- when did that happen?" She cleared her throat. "At any rate, vampire children happen rarely enough as it is, and most people aren't too thrilled about them anyway."
Arabella picked up Amelie's confused look and explained quietly, "More accurately, vampires have no problem with children, as long as they belong to someone else."
"Why?" Amelie tried to wrap her head around the thought. From everything she had been told, blood and families were important.
"We are, often by our own nature, consumed with the desire for power, Amelie. In the great game across the centuries, there's few other pursuits left," Christof said with solemn tone. "Almost all vampires were once human. By some circumstance or another, we were turned and brought into our sire's family."
He let out a breath and went on, "A vampire will think long and hard before turning a mortal. The more powerful they are, the more time they will spend choosing and grooming their potential progeny."
Arabella leaned closer and explained, "Taking a new vampire into your bloodline is a significant risk. And most want to be assured of the new member's absolute loyalty. By contrast, a child could grow up to be anyone."
She gave Amelie a grin. "Given the nature of youth, it's very likely that a child would disobey its parents eventually."
Her expression faded a bit. "Vampires aren't interested much in raising someone who might be a pain in their neck, rather than a loyal sycophant. Even power-hungry humans need children to carry on their legacy, but we are immortal. For a vampire, the next generation isn't the future, it's a liability."
Over the course of the evening, Amelie quietly followed the conversations. Smiling and nodding along, as the various guests talked more at her than to her. In a way she was glad nobody expected her to be too engaged.
Arabella's words kept playing in her head. The more she looked around the assembled coven, the more she started to notice the tension. Their guarded laughter, the furtive glances. Whispered comments behind someone's back.
Amelie straightened up, her mind turning to Arabella and Christof, who had taken her under their wing. For what it was worth, she wasn't going to give up just yet. Just because some vampires were schemers, didn't mean she would have to be one as well.
After the fourth or fifth group, she was starting to feel the fatigue, despite being hardened by months of Professor Binn's droning voice.
As the hands on the clock slid way past midnight, into the early morning hours, and the first of the visitors began leaving, Amelie took the opportunity to say good-night to Arabella and Christof as well.
Slipping from the chamber quietly, she made her way back to her room.
The days following the ball saw the occasional Circle member dropping by, never staying for very long but always making sure to introduce themselves to Amelie.
She tried to remember, but the names and pale faces became a blur. The visitors might leave and not return for years at a time. A decade was nothing to them, but it would be a lifetime to Amelie.
As comfortable as her room at Juniper Hall was becoming, she was starting to look forward to her dorm at Hogwarts.
With the initial bustle over her arrival winding down, Amelie finally found the time to write the letters she had promised Polly and Riyan. She agonised for quite a while about how much to tell them. While she trusted her friends not to run their mouths off about the coven, she wasn't sure how happy the countess would be about non-vampires learning too much.
In the end, she settled on describing her first week in the simplest terms, keeping the names and locations to herself for now. As she finished the descriptions of her exploits, she added a few more paragraphs asking them about their holidays and homework.
Finding herself without envelopes, she looked around the library, searching through drawers, until she stumbled upon a stack of them.
The next part was a bit more difficult and so she approached Arabella one night.
"I want to send a few letters to my friends from school. Are there any owls at the manor I could use?"
Her tutor raised an eyebrow. "We have something much better. Follow me."
Arabella took her upstairs and kept going until they had reached a dusty attic, filled with old crates and other detritus. A door off to the side led to a small chamber. The floor was covered with straw and there were rows of wooden boxes, their openings facing outwards. A tall window took up the far side of the room, its doors wedged open.
Some of the boxes were occupied by black, feathery shapes and as they approached, Amelie saw that the creatures within were large ravens.
Stepping closer, Arabella clicked her tongue and the nearest occupant raised its head. The raven gave a half-hearted 'caw', preening its feathers, before slowly hopping out of its box. Its claws were gripping the edge of the table, while the raven's gaze flicked back and forth between the two vampires.
"Just tie your letters to her leg once you're ready," Arabella explained, gently stroking the bird's head. "Oh, and for next time, bring up a few scraps of meat from the larder. Just ask Salvatore or Joyce to give you some."
The raven eyed Amelie dismissively and when she slowly reached out, it snapped at her fingers. It took another attempt before she finally hopped closer and allowed the letters to be attached.
"Uhm, to Riyan Kumari and Polly McKinsey, please." She wasn't quite sure if the bird even understood her. But, after another annoyed 'caw', the raven hopped from the ledge. With a strong flap of her wings, she took off and soared through the open window into the moon-lit night.
Riyan was the first to reply. One evening, just after getting up, Amelie found a large owl with grey feathers tapping at the window outside her room. She wasn't sure if the strips of bacon she'd taken from the kitchen would be acceptable, but the owl scarfed them down without complaint.
Retreating to her room, Amelie dropped into an arm-chair and read through her friend's reply.
While he still sounded unconvinced regarding her new living arrangements, Riyan nonetheless wrote that he hoped everything would work out for her. He had, apparently, just spent an entire weekend with his family and Morgan, watching a Quidditch game at a stadium somewhere in the west country.
'...and there's also the world cup next year. I'd love to take you and Polly along, but mum said it's going to be hard to get tickets. I'll keep you posted.'
Amelie grinned at the thought of Polly at an international Quidditch finale. She'd probably explode from sheer excitement.
'...sent her a letter, but she hasn't replied yet. I think she might be on holiday...'
That would certainly explain why she hadn't been bombarded with letters from Polly so far. For a moment, Amelie let her mind wander. Aside from the small trips, organised by her old school or the foster home, there hadn't been much in the way of holiday travel for her or the other children.
She thought of herself, lying on a beach towel and trying to get a tan. Far more likely, she'd be burnt to ash before that ever happened.
Her and Riyan's suspicions were proven right less than a week later, when an enormous, tropical bird descended upon the garden behind the manor and dropped a battered envelope in Amelie's lap.
As expected, Polly's letter consisted of several pages describing her holiday with her family on Barbados. Amelie perked up when the tales of scuba-diving and cycling around the island were interrupted and Polly gushed about the old witch she had met in a small shop her parents hadn't been able to see.
'...actually have all these rituals, and they don't even need a wand. Thankfully, Madam Gogol let me use her bird, or I wouldn't have a chance to write back until we get back to Britain...'
With a smile, Amelie finished the letter and put it in the drawer, next to Riyan's. She considered telling them more about her new life at Juniper Hall, but there would be plenty of time for catching up at Hogwarts.
The flow of visiting coven members slowed and eventually tapered off. Before she knew it, Amelie had spent the entire month at the manor.
August brought with it a special occasion. Stepping out of her room, just shortly before sunset, Amelie found a snowy owl sitting at the window. The letter, tied to its leg, bore a familiar seal and she quickly let the bird inside. Amelie was so excited at the Hogwarts letter, the first one she'd actually gotten the 'normal' way, she almost forgot to feed the school owl that had delivered it.
Skimming over the list of books and supplies for her second year, a problem started to materialise. How would she pay for all this? Should she ask Professor McGonagall? Amelie felt a painful twist in her gut at the thought of relying on the school's welfare again.
Later that night, she told Arabella about her concerns.
"We can go and visit Gringotts to check what gold your family has left in its vault." She gave Amelie an apologetic look. "I'm afraid most of their wealth was probably snatched up by now or it's rotting away in some dungeon in France. At least the goblins likely kept a close watch over what part of it was stored in Galleons, Sickles and Knuts."
Amelie blinked, hardly trusting her ears. "You think my parents were rich?"
"Goodness, Amelie!" Arabella blurted, barely holding back her laughter. "If you live for centuries and aren't swimming in gold by the end, you're probably doing something wrong."
And so they made plans to visit the goblin bank by Monday afternoon. Amelie made sure to pick out something that would fit in with the rest of the witches and wizards, before throwing her travelling-cloak over her shoulders.
Arabella was already waiting by the fireplace. She was wearing a dark, brown outfit with high leather-boots and a sleek cloak. A black, tri-cornered hat was tilted low enough to obscure a good part of her face.
"I thought we couldn't travel to the Leaky Cauldron from here, right?" Amelie wondered aloud, while her tutor grabbed a leather pouch from the mantle-piece.
"That's true. Which is why we're going to Knockturn Alley instead. A place far more suitable for us."
Giving a nod, Amelie pulled out her crescent moon necklace, but before she could put it on, Arabella stopped her.
"Don't use that just yet. If we are seen by someone, it's better you are without your disguise."
"Okay. But why?" Amelie asked, sliding the trinket back into her pocket.
"Let's put it this way," Arabella muttered, "there's two possible things some shady figure from Knockturn Alley might think when they see us. First, 'What's that vampire child doing here?' and the other is 'What's that vampire doing with that child?'."
She pulled a handful of floo-powder from the bag. "And one of those has a good chance of them running off to call the wizard authorities."
Watching Arabella toss the powder into the crackling fire, she saw it turning an eerie green colour. The fireplace seemed wide enough for them both, so Arabella beckoned her over, before stepping into the emerald flames.
A strange panic came over her, as Amelie stepped closer, as if every fibre of her being was shouting at her to stay away. Taking a breath, she pulled herself together and stood at Arabella's side.
"Right then." Arabella cleared her throat, before saying loudly and clearly, "The White Wyvern!"
Just as the night she had arrived, Amelie felt herself getting pulled off her feet and squeezed through a narrow tube. Unlike the Apparition spell, the journey didn't feel quite as rough, or perhaps it was because she knew what to expect.
When the roaring whirl of light and sound came to a sudden stop, Amelie braced herself and, despite staggering precariously, managed to keep her footing. Opening her eyes slowly, she took in her surroundings.
They had emerged from a fireplace at the back of what was obviously a pub. A forest of small tables, ringed by chairs and stools, stood between them and the bar at the far end of the large room.
But where the Leaky Cauldron had the air of a comfortable tavern, this establishment seemed like its polar opposite. The interior was dark and gloomy, clouds of smoke hanging over the heads of many of the patrons. Contrasting with the colourful robes on display in Diagon Alley, the predominant palette appeared to be various shades of black, brown, purple and dark blue.
Amelie heard Arabella walk up behind her, brushing soot from her sleeves.
"Still on your feet? Good," she said, her gaze sweeping slowly across the room. "Alright. Put up your hood and keep your head down. The less attention we attract, the better."
Giving a brief nod, Amelie slipped the hood of her cloak over and brushed her hair back. She felt Arabella's hand on her shoulder as they began walking down the length of the room. They passed by the bar on their way towards the door.
A middle-aged woman with a fierce expression stood behind the counter, idly wiping down a pint glass. With her sleeves rolled up, Amelie saw tattoos on her arms, among them a dragon which, she could swear, had just moved.
"Bit early for you, Knatchbull," the woman commented, the corner of her mouth pulled into the suggestion of a grin.
Arabella chuckled and gave her a small wave. "Just passing through, Eskarina." Keeping her hand at Amelie's back, she made no move to slow down.
Turning her head, Amelie's eyes briefly met those of the bar-woman and she saw the grin fading. The woman's attention quickly went back to the smear of dirt her rug was spreading across the glass.
Arabella pulled the door open and led them outside. The street in front of the pub was hardly brighter than the inside. Despite the afternoon sunlight, the narrow alley appeared darker than it should. A weather-beaten sign hanging over the door spelled out 'The Whyte Wyvern'.
Some of the houses along the street held store-fronts with dark, worn-out signs. What few of them had windows out front mostly displayed ominous trinkets, bottles with glowing potions or strange books.
"Welcome to Knockturn Alley," Arabella announced. "One of the few places we can visit without torches and pitchforks at our heels."
It wasn't hard to understand why. Along the streets and in the shops, the people out and about seemed particularly disinterested in each other. Most of them were wearing dark cloaks and hats that left them poorly recognizable.
The atmosphere of the place was a far cry from Diagon Alley and its loud, colourful ambience. Despite the drab colours and dodgy appearance, Amelie felt oddly comfortable on the dark streets with its many side-alleys and hiding places.
She felt Arabella nudge her back. "This way. It's not far until Diagon Alley, if you know where to go."
They walked confidently along the side of the road, occasionally ducking into narrow passages. As the bright roofs and houses of Diagon Alley came into view, Amelie felt nervous, her hand shifting to the amulet in her pocket.
Arabella patted her shoulder. "Don't worry, we're taking a side entrance. There shouldn't be any wizards coming in through there."
Soon after, they emerged into a dusty courtyard. Amelie recognized the wall ahead as belonging to Gringotts, although the marble seemed grimy and worn on this side of the building. Instead of a tall, imposing entrance, there was only a heavy iron door, flanked by two armed goblins.
She withdrew her hood and followed in Arabella's wake as they stepped up to the entryway. They gave the guards a nod, but only received silent glares in return.
Beyond the door, Amelie found herself in a dark corridor, lined with torches. It opened up into a room with bare, grey walls, sparsely furnished with a handful of wooden desks. More guards were standing by the entrance or leaning against the walls. The hall appeared more like a dungeon, than the richly decorated bank Amelie had stepped into one year prior.
Only a few other customers were present, all of them cloaked or wrapped in layers of textiles. A hunched figure walked past them and Amelie briefly saw a hand with long, green fingers and nails like claws. She shifted a bit closer to Arabella.
Her companion, meanwhile, directed them both towards the desk that had just freed up. A gruff-looking goblin eyed them warily over the rim of his glasses. The plaque before him read 'Ricbert'.
"Good day. What may I help you with?"
Arabella dropped her hand once again on Amelie's shoulder and replied, "Greetings. We are here for a Reclamation."
"I see." The goblin withdrew a thick ledger from a drawer in his desk. "Name of the vault registrant?"
Looking up, Amelie saw Arabella turning towards her with an expectant look. She cleared her throat and said, "It's de Valois, sir."
She nervously glanced back and forth between her companion and the goblin sitting behind the desk, who was now searching through the pages of his notes. With each passing moment, Amelie felt more nervous. What if they'd been wrong and there was no vault after all?
"Ah, yes."
Her head snapped back and she watched Ricbert stab his finger into the bottom part of the page.
"Follow me," the clerk instructed, before slamming the ledger shut and sliding from his chair.
They were led into a side-chamber. A large, wooden table took up most of the space, while the walls were lined, top to bottom, with small, brass doors, each bearing a number.
Sweeping along the row of deposit-boxes, Ricbert eventually found the right one and pressed a long, thin finger against the door. It shimmered briefly, before popping open. Amelie watched him extract a small tray from inside, before walking back to them and placing it on the table.
The tray, as it turned out, held a tiny, black box, no bigger than Amelie's fist. She couldn't quite identify what it was made of, but the thick ruby, set into the top, appeared uncomfortably familiar.
"Please place your hand on the reliquary."
Taking a deep breath, Amelie stepped forward and rested her palm carefully on the box. No sooner did her skin make contact with the gem, than she felt a painful sting. Despite feeling drops of warm blood oozing onto the 'reliquary', Amelie didn't dare remove her hand.
A few nerve-wracking moments later, there was a faint 'click' and she felt the box open. Amelie slowly withdrew from the ruby, noting that it seemed to have absorbed all the blood from the puncture wound on her palm.
Ricbert raised one of his eye-brows and gave her a curious look. He carefully reached into the reliquary and pulled out a small, silver key.
"Vault two-fifteen. Please follow me."
Trudging after him, Amelie rubbed her hand. Despite having mostly healed over, her palm still stung from whatever magic had bored into it.
"I don't suppose a padlock would've been enough," she grumbled.
Arabella chuckled. "Better get used to it, Amelie. It's all in the blood. Never mind that it was only a small amount. It could've been worse if the reliquary had rejected you."
"Why? What would've happened then?"
Without slowing his stride, Ricbert shrugged and replied, "Probably would've lost the hand or the whole arm."
Keeping her limbs close, Amelie followed the rest of the way in silence.
They soon stepped through a door and Amelie found herself in a huge grotto, stretching away like a tunnel into the distance. Up ahead, a set of tracks entered the chamber from one side, before disappearing down the other. An odd, metal vehicle was attached to the rails, vaguely reminding Amelie of the commercials she had seen for theme parks somewhere outside of London.
"Please take a seat and make sure to keep your extremities inside the cart at all times. Gringotts will not be held liable for loss of limb or head," their guide explained with boredom in his voice.
He climbed into a seat at the front of the rail-cart, while Arabella and Amelie squeezed into the ones at the rear. Their ride started moving with a shudder and soon they were coasting along the rails, occasionally screeching loudly whenever the cart took a turn.
When the tracks seemed to disappear shortly up ahead, Amelie opened her mouth to speak, but the words got stuck in her throat as she saw that the rail was following a sharp drop.
She shrieked when they rolled over the threshold and the cart suddenly accelerated to many times its previous speed. Trying desperately to keep her eyes open, Amelie dug her fingers into the side of the cart, leaving visible markings in the wooden frame.
Their mad ride continued for what could've only been a minute or two, but felt like hours to her. When the cart slowed down and finally stopped, Amelie was glad it hadn't derailed, even if her antics had likely ruined the reputation of vampires everywhere. Ricbert certainly seemed in a slightly better mood after seeing her make a fool of herself.
Leaving the main rail, their cart had taken a small junction, leading into a dead end with several enormous, round doors. Upon disembarking, Ricbert approached the one furthest to the right and Amelie quickly followed along.
The tall slab of dark metal had no visible handle and it took her a moment to notice the small keyhole, roughly at hip-height. Ricbert walked up to the door and produced the silver key from his pocket. It slotted seamlessly into the hole, but instead of turning it, he withdrew the key after the door let out a deep, ominous 'click'.
A quickly escalating cacophony of clicks, whirrs and snaps came from somewhere behind the smooth, metallic surface. Just as the noise seemed to reach a crescendo, it suddenly stopped and the door slowly rolled aside. Air hissed from between the frame as the vault opened.
Arabella grinned and patted her on the back. "After you, Amelie. It's all yours."
The small chamber beyond was drenched in darkness, but even in the gloom Amelie could see a number of wooden chests, boxes, vases and other vessels, filled with glinting coins. Ricbert led them inside and, with a wave of his hand, lit the torches bolted to the walls.
Amelie's eyes widened at the sizable hoard. Heavy, wooden chests were overflowing with gold and silver coins. Here and there she saw sacks of Knuts lying around. Crates, filled with what appeared to be paintings, busts and other treasures, were stacked against the far wall.
While she was staring at the amassed fortune, Ricbert walked over to a small lectern and wiped dust from a thick, leather-bound book. He flipped through the pages, each filled with rows and rows of numbers, until he got to the last.
"Here we are. All accounted for," he announced, poking at the last entries in the ledger.
Amelie glanced at the page and felt her head spinning. Judging by last year's purchases with Professor McGonagall, she could keep going to Hogwarts for another hundred years and it wouldn't even come close to making a dent in the gold her family owned.
Her eyes stopped on the date of the last withdrawal, November 8th 1981, only a few months after her birth. Amelie stared, transfixed, at the hastily scribbled line of numbers, as if begging for a glimpse into the past. Had her parents withdrawn the money? Had they been on the run? Had she already been at Bow Creek? What happened to them?
She was unceremoniously pulled back to the present, when Arabella tapped her on the shoulder.
"Not to rush you, but there's at least two centuries of book-keeping in there. We should probably leave that alone for now."
Amelie nodded and turned back to the vault, before asking awkwardly, "Uh, how exactly am I supposed to take the money with me?"
"Ah! Right!" Arabella nearly slapped her forehead, before rummaging through the depths of her cloak. She pulled out a simple, brown leather pouch, before handing it over.
"This should work."
The pouch was held shut with a string and when Amelie pulled it open, she found that it was split into three parts. It wasn't particularly big, but when Amelie slid her hand inside to touch the bottom, she found herself unable to quite reach it. Very quickly, she found that her entire arm had disappeared into the pouch.
"Thank you," she said after pulling back out, beaming at her companion.
"Don't mention it. I have a dozen of those lying around. Keep forgetting to bring them along," Arabella confessed.
With her enchanted purse in hand, Amelie began sliding handfuls of Knuts, Sickles and Galleons into the different compartments, one for each denomination. As expected, the pouch never seemed to fill up, no matter how much she put in.
By the time she was done, she tried to remember how much she had withdrawn, but Ricbert simply turned to the ledger and tapped the bottom of the page with his finger. A scraggly line of fresh ink added itself to the parchment.
"Now then. We should head back." Crossing her arms, Arabella nudged her head towards the rail-cart, still waiting just outside the vault door. She grinned and added, "Hope you have some voice left for the way back."
Amelie groaned.
The ride back to the surface was, thankfully, far less exciting than the one down. Before they left, Amelie turned to Ricbert. There was one more thing that had been on her mind since they had left Juniper Hall.
"I'd like to make a donation to the Hogwarts student fund, please."
The goblin clerk gave her a curious look, but still nodded and pointed her towards a door behind his desk. "This way."
They walked along a corridor more lavish than the dungeon chamber they had just left. The interior was in line with the decorations Amelie vaguely remembered from her visit with Professor McGonagall a year prior.
Two doors down, Ricbert led her into a small room. The shelves and cupboards were overflowing with books and pieces of parchment. A broad desk dominated the far end of the office.
"Have a seat."
Amelie let herself sink into one of the low chairs, while he browsed through the rows of ledgers. Ricbert produced a thick, leather-bound volume and reached for his quill.
"Right then. To the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Student Relief Fund, you say?"
Nodding her head, Amelie still fidgeted in her seat. It was, after all, her first time being alone in a bank. From scraping together her allowance back at Bow Creek, to sitting in an office and managing a huge fortune. If Mrs. Dolbeny could see her now.
The process was, thankfully, rather straightforward. Ricbert asked a few questions and filled her responses into the form. Just as she was getting comfortable, there was a hasty knock on the door and someone walked in.
"Uncle, I've finished with the Undermountain accounts and- oh..."
Standing in the doorway was a goblin, holding a pile of scrolls, who looked far less wrinkly than the others she had seen. He wore a striped shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark, blue trousers with suspenders. His face turned pale, eyes wide, as he stared at Amelie.
"I'm with a client, Nagnus!" Ricbert snapped, glaring at the younger goblin. "Put the scrolls over there and leave!"
Nagnus quickly complied, mumbling apologies and nearly tripping over his own feet as he placed the scrolls on a smaller table by the wall.
Dipping his quill, Ricbert turned to Amelie. "My apologies, miss. He's still in training," he growled.
"No problem at all," Amelie said and gave Nagnus an awkward smile.
He appeared momentarily dumbstruck, but swiftly recovered and put the rest of the parchment away, before bowing out of the room.
With their business soon concluded, she bid farewell to Ricbert and returned to Arabella and together they left Gringotts through the side-entrance. Amelie eyed the small silver key, before stuffing it as deep into her pocket as she could.
"That was rather generous," Arabella commented as they walked back into the courtyard.
With a shrug, Amelie explained, "All my things were paid for by the fund last year. I just wanted to pay them back, now that I have a vault full of gold."
Arabella pulled her pocket-watch from under her coat.
"I have another errand to take care of. Since it wouldn't be wise to have me running around Diagon Alley with you, I suggest you put on that shiny necklace of yours and run off to get your things. I'll be back at the White Wyvern in an hour and wait for you there."
"Alright, I won't take too long," Amelie promised.
Arabella gave her a wink and slid back into the alley they had first come from.
Digging through her pocket, Amelie pulled out her crescent moon amulet and put it on, feeling the familiar sensation of the illusion for the first time in over a month. Looking reasonably human, she pocketed her newly filled purse.
Amelie let a wide grin slip onto her face. It was time to do some shopping.