Breaking the window: Expedition to Hyperborea
Chapter 10: A storm is weathered…
"The first leg of the journey was pleasant and uneventful, but something changed once we left Halifax and coursed the Kingfisher north. The air around us on deck slowly started to get colder every day with fell winds blowing across the deck. The ship seemed to become more and more tiny against the vast waters surrounding us, thin planks of wood the only barrier between us and freezing death in ice-cold waters. I think none of use realized just how serious this undertaking was up until that point. If only we had known about the horrors and tragedies that still lay ahead just waiting to befall us."
- Bellatrix Black, Expedition to Hyperborea, published 2006
The ship was gently swaying back and forth as Nymphadora slid through the hold. It seemed to be quieting down a little outside. Not that she had spent much time outside, of course. The innards of the ship were her domain and she spent most of her time either in the hold or at the orlop deck. Occasionally, she'd venture out onto the crew deck for a chat, but otherwise Nymphadora barely saw sunlight.
The orlop deck could be somewhat busier at times, but nobody ever came to the hold unless it was time to store or unload something after the ship had docked. Her own private quarters were mostly only ever visited by Tahki when she felt like a bong hit, or Bellatrix when she wanted a chat. The crew usually just sent a wasp with a note when requesting something from the hold, and wasps usually didn't talk all that much.
It was perfect for what she had planned.
Still, as clandestine as this was, she was a bit wary and looked over her shoulder more than once just to make sure she was alone. In the last day of being docked at Halifax, a lot of a perishables had been replenished and a lot more supplies had been loaded on board the ship, all ordered by the captain on her recommendation. Nymphadora had been fully in charge of the operation. Nobody had noticed that she had put one extra crate on the shipping list. Said crate had been stored just outside of her quarters, listed as containing fragile perishables.
Her heart skipped a beat when she pulled out her wand and waved it over the crate. It fell open and revealed what Nymphadora has been pining for the last few weeks.
Jet-black hair, a smile that could melt the polar ice-caps, those lovely green eyes that could bore down into her very soul and she had fallen so deeply in love with.
"Rilly…" Nymphadora closed her eyes and let the girl flow into her arms.
"Dora!" she exclaimed, pressing her body tightly against her.
Merlin, her touch. Her smell. The taste of her lips and her tongue when a desperate, hungry kiss welcomed the girl back into her life.
"Merlin, I fucking missed you…" Nymphadora sniffed.
"Those weeks without you have been hell…" Rilly replied.
Nymphadora quickly spirited her away into her quarters and locked the door behind them. "My digs, bit of alright, innit?" said Nymphadora. "Check out that ace hammock over there! You'll, uhm, be spending most of your time in here, I'd reckon. Sorry you won't see too much of the trip, then."
"It's alright," said Rilly, a slight blush on her cheeks.
Nymphadora closed her eyes and sighed. "This is, by far, the stupidest bloody thing I've done in my entire fucking life. And I'd do it all over again just to see your smile. I'm dead chuffed to you see again, me."
The plan had been decidedly simple, discussed at length with Rilly before the Kingfisher would leave NewCastle. Rilly would take a leave of absence to handle a private matter, as was well within her rights. Nymphadora then arranged for her to travel ahead to Halifax through a private portkey company where she would wait for the Kingfisher to arrive. Nymphadora would then smuggle Rilly on board in a crate by altering the shipping records. Of course, she had also made sure there were extra provisions to account for a single stowaway by altering the records given to the captain to make it seem the crew had used more resources than they had actually used during the first leg of the journey, causing him to buy extra for the continued voyage.
Rilly would have to stay out of sight, confining herself to the hold for the most part. She'd have to have her dinners delivered to the orlop deck where she could pick it up; thankfully Haema's portions were always quite large. It would be risky, sure, but if Rilly would remain hidden for another week or two, maybe three, they'll have passed will into the Arctic waters by then. Too late to turn back. And it was not as if they were going to toss her overboard.
"Shagging the maid wasn't a worse idea?" replied Rilly with a smile on her face.
"Loving the maid," Nymphadora corrected, kissing her again for good measure.
"Won't I get caught if someone comes to your quarters?" asked Rilly.
"Ahah!" Nymphadora said, puffing up her chest proudly. "Let me show you what I cobbled together."
Rilly looked on curiously when Nymphadora went to her bunk. The bunk was mostly build inside a wooden construction built against the side of the hull which contained further closet space, shelving and drawers. Underneath the bunk was only wooden planking. After pressing against the large plank directly under her bunk it swung outward and upward on a set of hinges. Rilly bent over to look inside and saw a comfortably large cubby with a mattress to lie on, a small lantern and a few books on a shelf above the pillow. Nymphadora had gone all out, even covering the wood with a freshly dried coat of paint.
"Go on, give it a try," said Nymphadora. "It's meant to be used in a hurry."
Rilly did just that, kneeling down and rolling herself inside on the mattress. She seemed comfortable and she fit in it quite nicely. A brass handle on the plank allowed her to pull it close swiftly until it clicked into place.
"See?" said Nymphadora, addressing Rilly on the other side of the plank. "You can't tell it's even here when it's closed. So if you are ever in danger of being spotted, go inside and wait for them to bugger off. I'm afraid that includes Tahki when she comes down for her daily bong hit."
After opening the secret compartment, Rilly slipped outside and admired the mechanism. "You've really outdone yourself with this one, Dori."
"Really?" replied Nymphadora, feeling a blush creep to her cheeks and bringing a hand to the back of her head. "Well, uhm, it's not nearly as impressive as engine work, yeah? I mean… it's not a V8 or… I… Fuck me, why am I making an absolute scene out of this?"
"It's cute," said Rilly, making Nymphadora grin. "My sisters don't know I'm here. I don't like hiding things from them, but… well, here we are."
"Same," said Nymphadora. "Only Bella knows we're together, but she doesn't know you're here. I'm surprised we've managed to keep us hidden from my mum's all-seeing eye for so long to begin with. Hopefully that won't matter anymore once this trip is over."
"I hope so," said Rilly. "My own family isn't any better. My father is going to do his utmost to milk your family dry."
"Against my mum?" Nymphadora smirked. "He's lucky if he'll have two bollocks left to rub together when my mum's done with him. Also, voila!"
Nymphadora's hair turned a natural red while her eyes turned bright green, causing Rilly to smile warmly. "That door is locked, right," she stated cheekily. "Because I know you have this thing for red-heads."
"My, my," Rilly smiled. "How attractive you are, my dear Dori."
"I can be every colour of the rainbow!" Nymphadora replied smugly. "But you love me like this the best."
Rilly responded by pushing Nymphadora to the bed and pouncing upon her like a panther. The plucky Black ran a hand through her soft hair as she hovered inches away from her face. "Arrogant… wonderful… delicious… fool…" Goneril said between kisses.
"You… forgot… charming… beautiful… clever…" Nymphadora replied, also between kisses.
"Those too."
They would spend the next few hours celebrating their reunion while the ship continued on its path towards the Arctic circle.
Sat in the wheelhouse, Hermione had been busy uploading her photographs to a small laptop she had brought on the trip. The wheelhouse was the only part of the ship with electrical outlets, let alone the only place where more intricate electrical equipment such as her computer would work reliably. Bellatrix was sat next to her and together they took a moment to watch some more of the photographs she had taken. Most of which were taken from the deck, overlooking the ocean or from the coast in the distance, though there were plenty of inside the ship, of the people and of the occasional bird or dolphin. No doubt Bellatrix was already looking for some good shots to use for her book. Most recent photographs were of the island of Newfoundland, the largest island off the coast of Canada, about half the size of the United Kingdom but having a population of only half a million.
The coast was green and rocky, somewhat reminding her of Scotland. It was a shame she wouldn't get a chance to visit that peaceful looking island, but perhaps she and Bellatrix would go there together one day. For now, she was quite happy she had managed to take a few proper shots earlier this morning as the weather had changed significantly since then. She had also spent some time examining and taking pictures of the diving bell which had now been strapped and secured on deck at the very forward point of the ship. It was wooden and old-timey, working by magical spells rather than technology. She could see it out the window if she squinted hard enough.
"Thank you for keeping me company in the wheelhouse," said Eliam while handling the wheel turning the ship at a moment's notice if need me. Outside, the waves were high and the ship dipped and rose over rough and tumultuous seas. Hermione had never seen waves quite this high. Water clashed over the deck outside while wood protested against the force of the impacts. Rain slashed down on the windows of the wheelhouse and it was hard to believe that Daelia was actually up in the crow's nest right now. It was the middle of the day, and yet it seemed evening outside underneath the dark clouded skies.
All in all, it was first of all a good thing that all of the heavy furniture on board the ship was bolted down to the deck and second, it was quite nice to be gathered around a glowing magical warmth stone in a really nice and cozy warm wheelhouse.
"It's fun," said Bellatrix.
"Fun?" Hermione frowned. "This is your idea of fun? Have you seen the weather outside?"
"It's not that bad, actually. We didn't even need to break the storm sails out," said Eliam. "Sea's always a bit rougher around this side of Newfoundland. It'll get a bit worse until we've passed through the strait of Belle Isle. But this? This is nothing. As long as I steer us into the waves, there'll be nothing to worry about."
"And what if you don't steer us into the waves?" Hermione frowned.
"Most likely?" he said, never taking his eyes off the nose of the ship. "We get tossed around, things start to shift, ship gets damaged, we need to slow down to check the hull for cracks, do repairs and I'll get a right bollocking from Captain Kirk. Or, we catch a big wave, the ship capsizes and we all have to hope one of the lifeboats doesn't sink in the process."
"Wicked!" Bellatrix exclaimed.
"Wicked, she says," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Let's not distract the man while he's working, Trix."
Eliam laughed. "It's fine, Hermione," he said. "Like I told you, this is nothing. Two years ago we got caught in a storm off the coast of Alaska. Gale force ten, absolutely insane. There was no avoiding it, so we just battened the hatches and hoped for the best. Imagine waves three times higher than this, wider and faster. Now imagine steering the ship into that. We survived. Not without damage, but we survived. Trust me to get you home safely, Hermione. You and Bellatrix."
There was something soothing about the calm with which the mild-mannered sailor spoke. Perhaps she was just worried about nothing. Bellatrix looked at her and squeezed her hand.
"Okay," asked Bellatrix. "Once we're through the strait of Belle Isle in a day or two, we'll be headed north, right?"
"Along the coast of Labrador, yes," he said. "We'll be sticking as close to the coast as we can so you'll have plenty of opportunity to shoot some scenic pictures. We'll be going full sail and full sanctum stone until we hit Resolution Island and dip into the Hudson Strait. The Kingfisher is small and sleek for a reason. We'll be going like a bat out of hell."
Hermione frowned. "That surprises me," she spoke with a curious tone. "Is it because it's a long stretch? Because we didn't go full sail and full sanctum on the way from England to Halifax at any point."
Eliam still didn't look up from his work, keeping his focus on steering the ship into the waves, but his expression turns grim. "We'll have a very nice stretch of cost to our port side… and open waters straight to Greenland on the starboard side. That makes the captain… and us… nervous. The less time spent along the coast of Labrador, the better."
Hermione sighed heavily. "Queen Ealdwynn and her Neo-Viking thugs," she muttered.
Bellatrix frowned. "I thought Iceland was their seat of power. And Greenland is how many miles away from here?"
"Doesn't matter. Labrador's coast has been plagued with raids, both the muggle and wizarding settlements," he said. "Even after the treaties."
"Treaties mean nothing to those violent barbarians," Hermione narrowed her eyes.
Bellatrix frowned. "They were in the news back in the sixties, after Queen Ealdwynn united the clans and they started plaguing the coasts. Wizarding Vikings, wanting to rebuild their old empires to relive the glory days. Hard to imagine they are still a problem now."
"You've missed a lot," said Hermione. "They kept raiding coasts of Norway, the UK, Denmark, the Netherlands, but also Canada and even dared venture further south along the coasts of New England. Ruthless savages, all of them. They steal and pillage the hard work of others like parasites. They take people they deem valuable as thralls back to Iceland or Greenland either to work for them or to ransom them, like some sort of wizarding North Korea."
"Folks had enough around… was it 1982?" wondered Eliam. "A coalition of nations was formed, aurors and wizards of all of the nations being raided united together to put an end to the Neo-Vikings. They landed on Iceland and Greenland to take the fight to the them for a change. Took two years of bloody fighting and even outnumbering the Neo-Vikings four to one, all they managed was a stalemate. A treaty eventually put an end to it. Gave Ealdwynn all she ever wanted. Greenland and Iceland were officially given to her and her people. Thule, they call it. A legitimate wizarding nation. Officially they're no longer allowed to raid other nations or take thralls, but they still do in secret and nobody wants to start another war over it. Ealdwynn won that war, if you ask me."
Bellatrix snorted. "I missed a lot, it seems. Five years on, I still have a lot of catching up to go."
"That treaty certainly didn't stop them from raiding the coasts of Scotland at the height of the second wizarding war while we were fighting for our lives," spat Hermione angrily. "Tells you all you need to know about those opportunistic vultures."
Bellatrix sat back on the sofa, swaying along with the ship after it hit a particularly large wave head-on. "Well, at least we'll get to the Arctic circle on good time."
Eliam chuckled. "Nah," he said, slowly turning the wheel to meet the next oncoming wave. "Travelling at full sails and full sanctum puts a lot of strain on the sails and the hull and we'll lose a day or two to inspect the entire ship and do repairs once we arrive and drop anchor at Resolution Island. It all evens out in the end."
Out on deck, a small figure made their way along the railing towards the wheelhouse. A few moments later, the door slid open. Immediately, the warm inside of the wheelhouse was blasted with rain and cold wind while Tahki, clad in a yellow oilskin overcoat and a sou'wester hat, hurried inside. After sliding the door shut, she hung the dripping wet coat and hat from the hook and joined them by the warm magical stone.
"Blimey, it's pissing out there, like you Brits would say," spoke Tahki.
"You've been working on your British vernacular."
"Da's right, innit?" winked Tahki, warming her hands at the stone. "And if your next question is along the lines of 'what the fuck are you doing on deck?', the answer's quite simple. I've got nothing to do below deck. I've helped Chandra set up and test her machines, those are working. I've helped Eleanor do some cataloguing for her artifact collection, that's now done. And I've helped Old Engrim plot the course along the coast of Labrador. So I've been wandering about aimlessly."
"Common problem during sea voyages," said Eliam. "It's why we have a rec-room and a library. We've got routine and duties, sure, but especially with weather like this there's precious few things to do until it passes."
"Still doesn't explain why you're up here," said Bellatrix. "Unless you wanted to keep us company, in that case you're very welcome."
"I needed to be outside," said Tahki, a smile tugging on her lips. "You feel it in the air, don't you?"
Hermione looked out the window. "I mostly feel wet and cold when I look outside."
"Try harder," grinned Tahki. "Feeling a little tingle in the tips of your fingers? Or that little hum on the edge of your hearing?"
"Now that you mention it…" said Bellatrix, holding out her hand in front of her.
Hermione crossed her arms. "I don't feel a thing."
"We've sailing right over a massive ley-line, it's right below us right now," said Tahki. "It's making me feel all tingly and warm."
"It's probably not that far below us," said Eliam. "These waters aren't all that deep."
The ship took another nose-dive right into a wave, causing Hermione's stomach to sink a few inches deeper. The weather was getting nastier out there. Thankfully she was inside in this nice warm wheelhouse. Looking over at Tahki, she saw that the girl has an almost wistful expression as she looked at the horrible weather outside. "Ley-lines are like rivers carved right into the earth. Magic flows through them and we're at our strongest when we're near them. We pull the magic from the streams and make it do our bidding. Why do you think the largest wizarding settlements are always founded right next to one? Wizards and witches of old knew how to find them on a subconscious level. These days we have measuring equipment, but, even since I have been a little girl, I was able to sense them by feeling the magic in the air. Again, they are rivers. And like with any river, there are branches, brooks, eddies, tides and whirlpools. And what do all rivers have too?"
"Fish?" Bellatrix tried.
"No, you dumbass!" Tahki laughed.
"A source, Trix," said Hermione. "All rivers have a source."
"Right you are," said Tahki. "Scholars say that ley-lines cover the Earth like a spider's web with no beginning or end. But that's not what I feel in the flow of magic. The currents are there and they are strong. We're going to find something up north, I just know it."
"What about you, Eliam?" asked Bellatrix. "What do you think we'll find up north?"
"Ice. Lots and lots of ice," Eliam deadpanned. "Seriously, though, I'm just here to steer the ship and get you there safely. I leave the thinking to the smart people like you three."
A beep sounded from Hermione's watch, a beep she had been dreading. With a heavy sigh and a forlorn look, she gazed through the window and the wind and rain bearing down upon the ship just as another wave crashed upon the fore and the ship took another dip. "Laugh it up, I have to get on top there to take the readings from the weather station," she sighed.
"Hold on a moment," said Eliam and pulled on a chord above him. A loud wail resounded across the deck. Movement could be seen in the distance on deck and, a few seconds later, the door slid open again. Copperhead stuck his, well, copper head, through the door while the wasp on his shoulder looked to be as wet as a fish. Seagull quickly flew inside and landed in front of the magical warmth stone, where she shook off the moisture like a dog would and curled up in front of it.
"Ya rang, m'lord?" asked Copperhead.
"Hermione needs to head up to the weather station for a bit," said Eliam. "Could you spot her?"
"Aye aye," said Copperhead. "Hermione, put on the safety harness first. It goes around your waist. Here, I'll help you."
"Don't worry about it," yelled Bellatrix. "We're quite used to attaching a harness to our hips."
Instantly, Hermione felt her cheeks radiate heat. "TRIX!"
"What… it's true…" Bellatrix shrugged just as Tahki doubled over in gales of uncontrollable laughter. "What's so funny?"
"Wait till I tell Nymph!" Tahki managed to say before rolling on the sofa again. In response, Hermione merely huffed, ripped the harness from Copperhead's hands and indeed applied it without much of a problem. After borrowing an oilskin, she stepped outside and was immediately shivering from the wet and cold winds slashing rain into her face. The droplets felt like razors hitting her cheeks at first and, good god, the weather was indeed getting a lot colder.
She made her way to the ladder she had gone up so many times before in fairer weather and finally found out what the long rail next to it was for. The harness had a long strong rope attached to the back of it with a clasp at the end. After clasping it to the rail, it was now relatively safe to go up there. Halfway up the ladder, Hermione made the mistake to look at the waters churning around the ship just as it crashed through another wave. A spray of seawater hit her. Washing overboard in weather like this was not her idea of a fun good time. Looking up, she saw Daelia up in the crow's nest wearing an oilskin. God, how she managed that, she'd never know.
On top of the wheelhouse, the metal walkway was slippery as all hell, making her happy she both had this safety harness to rely on and Copperhead to look out for her downstairs. With freezing, trembling wet hands, Hermione started to take the reading from the weather station, only to conclude that polar winds blowing in straight from Greenland were to thank for this fine weather they were having right now. So…. Temperatures, wind direction and speed, humidity… high humidity, surprising that… rainfall, air pressure, light intensity, UV index… She was about done in ten minutes and was relieved to be inside the wheelhouse again after climbing down.
Chilled to the bone, Hermione was happy to toss off her oilskin and take a seat near the warmth stone. Copperhead, taking a look at his wasp-friend quietly snoozing, decided to join them for a spell.
"We're not supposed to nap on the job," he said, patting the snoozing wasp gently. "But you try being a flying creature in this weather, ey?"
Bellatrix had her book open, smiling to herself. "You're both right in time! I was about to read the next chapter in my anthology story, about the ex-death eater being in that old mansion. I had some time to work on it this morning and it's right about finished. This would be tale number three."
Both Tahki and Hermione settled in for a reading, as did Copperhead and Eliam. Bellatrix certainly told her own stories well.
"Today I receive the strangest of visitors.
The best I can describe him is as 'a Londoner'. He stands before me, this middle-aged muggle man clad in a business suit meant to awe and impress, with an air of arrogance and false sophistication that is both unearned and unconvincing.
I've seen these types before many times in Slytherin. Mostly they are first years who step into the common room for the first time with desire for conquest in their eyes. But only those who have the name or the wealth to carry such attitudes will continue to do so longer than their first year, and even those end up being ruthlessly exploited by those with more wit and skill.
He is a minnow who fancies himself a piranha in a tank full of sharks.
"So, I hear you are the unofficial caretaker of this fine manor. Impressive you've managed to survive, really," the man speaks.
His voice is rife with false praise, but if being Slytherin has taught me one thing, it is to lay bare the disdain hidden underneath his dulcet tones. Naturally I am irked that he seems to know about me and has actively sought me out for some reason. No doubt that drunkard Charlie from down the pub told him all about me; he'd do anything for a pint. I should probably silence him at some point, but that is not my immediate concern.
"You seem to know a lot about me," I reply, doing my best to keep the disdain out of my voice. His eyes rove over me. I admit, dear reader, times have not been kind on me. I no longer have access to the resources I once have. My clothes are… not the best, procured from a muggle thrift store selling them as 'pre-loved' clothing. How far I have fallen…
"Certainly enough to know you are the one to talk to," says the man. "I know a great deal about your 'wizarding world'. Probably even more than you do."
In that moment, I want to kill that muggle myself rather than letting the house do it for me. Lacking a wand, my gaze turns to the door leading to the upstairs bathroom. Instead I center myself. I must reluctantly admit the man has me curious. "How about we stop talking in circles around one another?" I reply. "You know about me, you know about magic, so you're clever enough to have eluded the Ministry goons sniffing around for people who know too much. But that also means you're clever enough to realize this house is beyond dangerous if you don't play by the rules."
"Play by the rules, or bend the rules," says the well-dressed man. "My friend, I will pay you three-thousand quid for just a moment of your time. Surely that's worth the effort, no? And we will have to suffer each other's company no longer."
Three-thousand pounds?
As much as I am loathe to admit it, I can definitely use that amount of muggle pounds. I have, unfortunately, built up a bit of a slate with Carol down the pub and this would save me from having to moonlight in the pub's kitchen. Perhaps even buy some new clothes while I'm at it.
"Fair deal, no?" he says. "You get cash moneys in hand and I don't have to traipse around the house with heavy risk of stepping into the wrong room."
I feel like a whore when I take his money, especially when he flashes me that grin. He looks down on me now that I have taken his money. He thinks he owns me.
"What I am looking for, my new friend," he speaks gently but with a forceful undertone. "Is a dark place. Not dark as in not being able to see. I am looking for a space that feels wrong when you even think about it. As in, the feeling you're somewhere you really shouldn't be. Where the angles are all wrong and the light seems to reject its very existence. But not so dark that it kills you the moment you step into it," he said, casting his eyes to the door leading into the upstairs bathroom.
Clever man. Clever, clever man.
"I know just the thing," I say and wordlessly lead the way to the second floor. Across the landing and into the master bedroom. Now, the master bedroom is a malevolent entity all by itself, but only if provoked, yet this was not to be my final destination. Inside the master bedroom is another corridor leading to a separate room.
The psychomanteum.
Why this mansion had one, I shall never know. As I understand from old Charlie down the pub, these kind of rooms were used a hundred years ago to attempt to speak to the dead. Tiny rooms, enclosed on all sides with walls and a single door, where a person would sit in a chair and stare into a mirror to try to communicate with the dead. This would never work and a wizarding family should know better than to try. And yet.
There had always been something wrong with that room. It… hungered. I feel it when I open the door and show the Londoner the room. As I feel my heart pound in my chest, he seems elated.
"Oh, this is perfect!" he exclaims, stepping inside without any regard for the danger I feel all around me. "Worth every single penny. Though I suppose you're wondering why I am here."
"Actually, I wasn't," I reply softly.
"Now, now," he says. "No need to be rude."
Wonderful. He needs a moment of exposition. People of his type always needed to. And it's not as if I wasn't used to it. And not as if I could stop him either.
"Have you ever wondered if there's more to this life?" he starts. "You are born, you grow up, you stumble through life trying to get the best hand dealt and then you die. Simple. Mundane. I aim to break that cycle."
"Hm," I snort. "I used to know someone like that. Didn't end well all that well for him."
"Ahah, but that is because he lacked vision!" says the Londoner. "I have spent decades honing my craft, making deals is my speciality! I am a silver-tongued devil, if I say so myself! And I am here to make the deal of a lifetime. Literally."
He starts to remove his clothing. I am about to raise my voice in protest when I see his skin. It was covered in scars, runes craved straight into his skin. I recognize some of them as traditional wards, but others? They are beyond my ken and strike me magical jibberish. Whatever patch of skin that hadn't been scarred there was a tattoo. Runes and symbols of protection, for the most part. There are a few I recognise and I wonder.
"Those runes…" I start to say.
"Clever, aren't they?" he chuckles. "I put a lot of thought into this whole process. Preparing for this my entire fucking life. You have no idea how much this has cost me."
"It's about to cost you a lot more," I say intently.
"Nice try," he snorts. "Take your money and go. I have no further need of you. I must start the summoning now."
Something is wrong. I feel it down to the marrow of my bones. The entire house starts to groan around me. I have only seen this happen once before and the aftermath wasn't pretty. Without looking to the man, I bolt out into corridor, out the master bedroom and onto the landing. I run past the door to the upstairs bathroom, which is flying open and close in an agitated state. Though it is still daylight, I run into the safety of my library tower, throw the door shut behind me and shift a heavy book-case in front of it just to make certain.
Evening falls and the house is still restless. I hear doors open and slam shut. I hear the Attic creature run around aimlessly whenever it comes near the library. The creatures in the hall run about restlessly and howl all night. They almost seem frightened.
After an uneasy night, rest returns to the house. It is almost eerily quiet when I dare to step into the hallway. I should know better than to check in on the man and his fate, but I am a curious creature. To my own detriment.
The master bedroom seems… cowed… almost happy to receive me. This does not bode well. I make my way down the corridor to the psychomanteum and when I stand staring at the wooden door, I gently push it open. I know not what to expect, but when I peer into the dark room I had to wonder just what I was seeing. The old chair was splintered, the old mirror shattered. And there, blasted into the side of the wall, was a soot-coloured silhouette of a man holding up his arms in a futile attempt to stop whatever was headed towards him.
"About those runes," I speak softly. "If you'd let me finish speaking, I could have told you that those were meant to protect and ward objects, not living creatures."
Just then, ever so slightly, the silhouette's head strains to turn towards me. I step back, admittedly shocked. The silhouette does not speak, of course, but I can almost make out an expression.
Pleading.
"Welcome to the house," I speak wryly. "I hope it was worth it. Oh, and, thanks for the bob."
His pleading becomes more desperate as I move to shut the door, lock it with the master key and trap him in darkness.
I hope to Merlin he's not one of those residents who makes a lot of noise at night."
"Oh, wicked," said Hermione. "I think it's one of your nastier ones. If that man had bothered to actually research the runes, he might have gotten a better deal."
"That's the point of the story," said Bellatrix. "You don't go playing with matches in a room filled with kindling."
"Dynamite," said Tahki. "I think you mean dynamite."
"What's a dynamite?" asked Bellatrix.
As Tahki went about to explain the concept of high-yield explosives to Bellatrix, Hermione once again stared outside of the window. The storm seemed to be picking up outside. One would only hope for fairer weather as they headed further north.