Alexandra Potter

Chapter Thirteen

Scene 2/4

Alex woke the next day to find new clothes at the foot of her bed. The white dress was there, with white underwear folded on top, and a pair of white pumps were sitting on the floor.Going a bit overboard on the white, aren't we?But she changed into them anyway, after calling the guard for a trip to the bathroom. Of course, they still hadn't returned her wand. She really hoped they hadn't snapped it.

She didn't have to wait long for Hugh to arrive. Despite her fashion advice the previous day, he was wearing the same baggy robes - sewing charms probably weren't his thing.

"All ready?" asked Hugh, looking around her cell. Auror Shacklebolt stood outside, looking on without expression.

"Ready," said Alex, looking forward to seeing something beyond her corridor. It improved her mood no end. She had to remember not to smile, like Hugh had told her. "Good morning, Auror Shacklebolt. Are you coming with us?"

"That's correct," he said, his deep voice reassuring. He spoke slowly, but it didn't make him sound stupid. It sounded like every word was considered. If it had been any other Auror, Alex might have resented their presence, but Shacklebolt had made her hot chocolate. He was all right.

Shacklebolt dropped the protections on the cell and she stepped out. "So where are we going?" she asked. "Not the Greengrass' house, surely?" She remembered the house from Daphne's dream, and briefly wondered how accurate that dream had been.

"No," said Hugh, keeping step her her as they made their way down the plain corridor. "Harmand Greengrass refuses to leave Daphne's side in St. Mungo's, so we're going there."

"He's been in St. Mungo's all this time?" said Alex.

"Good publicity," said Hugh, and Alex thought she heard Shacklebolt snort. "The concerned father sick with worry. Increases sympathy with the public."

Alex was once again reminded how much more complicated the whole affair was than just the letter of the law. It was about opinions. It was about emotions. "Will we see Daphne?" she said. She wasn't sure if she wanted to.

"It's possible, though she's not awake yet," said Hugh, "unless she woke this morning, that is." Alex swallowed. She wasn't ready to face a talking Daphne Greengrass. What would she say? "Sorry for almost killing you" seemed so insufficient.

"This way," said Shacklebolt, leading them through a door Alex hadn't noticed. Smart. The door led to a small bare room, white like the corridor. All four walls were lined with windows, each one looking into a different cell.. A couple of guards drinking tea sat at a table in the centre. They nodded to Shacklebolt, but said nothing.

"We'll use the Floo to get there," he said, offering Alex the pot full of green powder. "Welsey-Wesley first, then Miss Potter, then myself."

"See you on the other side," said Hugh, before stepping forward. "St. Mungo's!"

It was Alex's turn. She remembered her last Floo journey, and hoped nothing like that happened again. She could just imagine the headlines:THE GIRL WHO RAN. "St. Mungo's!" she said, doing her best to say it clearly, and she stepped into the fire.

The entrance to St. Mungo's was quite different to any Muggle hospital Alex had seen. It didn't smell of antiseptic, for a start. In fact, it didn't smell of much at all - perhaps there was a slight floral scent, but it was easily missable. Another big difference was the floor: it was carpeted.I suppose cleaning spells mean it doesn't matter.The walls were lined with portraits, and the ceiling was lower than you'd see in a Muggle hospital. It was much more homely.

Some things, however, were the same everywhere. There was a large waiting area with rows of seats. There was a reception desk with a long queue. And there were sick people: most had invisible maladies, but some were more obvious. One man waiting in the queue for attention was holding his own detached arm; another had a plant growing out of his right eye.

"Shall we?" said Hugh, indicating the queue.

"... no, I want to see a Healer straight away," said the plant man, getting clearly agitated. "I've got an Australian Eyehugger on my face, and you don't even want to know what I've got up my-"

"Please, sir, try to remain calm," said the receptionist. "A Healer will be with you as soon as-"

Two loud cracks, one after the other, interrupted the conversation.

"Coming through!"

A pair of wizards in green robes pushed through the crowd, an unconscious man floating between them. The room looked on in morbid curiosity; a pair of double doors swung open, a witch in blue robes hurrying out.

"What've we got?" she said, waving her wand over the man. Alex wasn't sure if it was one spell or many, or even a spell at all - it was a kind of wandwork she'd never seen before. The witch kept her wand moving constantly, flowing from one intricate pattern to the next.

"Vampire bite."

The witch paused for just a moment. "Blood room three, now," she said, and they started moving again, going through the doors. "We need to drain him as soon as-"

The doors shut behind them, cutting off their conversation. Alex wished she could follow - it sounded fascinating.

"Goodness," said Hugh. "That was a bit dramatic, wasn't it?"

Alex nodded, her mind going to Daphne. Had something similar happened to her, Healers rushing to save her life?

"I didn't realise vampire attacks were so common," she said.

"They're not," said Shacklebolt, who had floo'd through behind them, "not unless you go down Knockturn on a dark night."

Alex frowned. "If it's so dangerous, why doesn't the Ministry do something about it?"

Shacklebolt snorted. "If you have a solution we haven't tried, I'm all ears. Street lighting, Auror patrols, random searches... it's all been done."

"Well, just close the whole street then," said Alex.

Shacklebolt opened his mouth, before closing it again. "You explain," he said, looking to Hugh.

Hugh paused, apparently floored. "Well," he said, searching for words. "I don't know how to put it. The government just can't go around closing streets," said Hugh.

"Why not?" said Alex. "I mean, if it would save lives..."

"Maybe it would. But remember, people live on that street," said Hugh, "not to mention all the businesses down there. Shops, pubs, restaurants, offices. All of it private property. The government can't just confiscate it - it's against the law."

"Well, okay," said Alex. She supposed it made sense - she wouldn't want the government randomly taking her stuff. "But what if they paid for it?"

"A force-purchase orderispossible," said Hugh, "but still, it'd be very unpopular."

"Would cost a fortune, too," said Shacklebolt. "How much do you think Knockturn Alley is worth? Must be over a hundred thousand galleons."

"Well over," agreed Hugh. "And I can think of a dozen laws you could use to appeal it, just off the top of my head. Plus-"

"Okay, I get it," said Alex, feeling the stirrings of annoyance. Getting teamed up on wasn't fun. "It's complicated."

"Next, please," said the receptionist, and they turned to face the front desk. A young witch, she couldn't have been many years out of Hogwarts. The badge on her robes announced:Belinda. Welcome Witch.

"Ah, hello," said Hugh, taking a scroll out of an inner pocket. "Hugh Welsey-Wesley. I'm here to see Harmand Greengrass in conference room six."

"Very good, sir," said Belinda, taking the scroll. She broke the seal and unravelled it, passing a magnifying glass over the writing.

"That's fine," she said, "may I register your wand?"

Hugh passed his wand over, and she placed it on a metal shelf. An animated quill recorded his wand's details in a huge book before she passed it back.

"Floor six, sir. You'll find Mr Greengrass in ward seven."

They used the lift to go up. It was the first lift Alex had seen in the wizarding world, as there weren't any at Hogwarts. The cage had to be shut manually, like the lifts in old films, but once it moved it was clearly magical in nature: the ride was completely smooth, and soundless. Alex wondered if it was even moving, or if it just transported them directly floor to floor.

The lift reached the sixth floor with abing. They stepped out and Hugh led them through a number of wide corridors full of healers and apothecaries, artificers and administrators. All of them seemed to be in a rush, though that didn't stop the endless stream of gossip Alex heard as she passed one conversation after another. The place seemed to be run in a kind of organised chaos, with numerous artefacts of unknown function cluttering the corridors and wards.

"Aha! Here it is," said Hugh, stopping outside a closed door. He paused to look at Alex. "All ready?"

"Ready," said Alex, trying to school her face into a serious expression.Focus, she thought. She wasn't there for a tour of St. Mungo's. Her stomach suddenly bubbled with nervousness as she remembered her situation. For a few minutes she'd forgotten.

"Here we go, then," said Hugh, and he knocked on the door.

Harmand Greengrass opened the door, looking exactly as he had in Daphne's dream. A tall, thin man, he was showing the first signs of middle age, his light brown hair starting to thin on top. He might have looked friendly, had his dark eyes not filled with hate the moment he saw Alex.

Alex knew it immediately:this is not going to go well.

"Mr Greengrass," said Hugh, extending his hand. Greengrass shook it stiffly: a single shake, no more. "My name is Hugh Welsey-Wesley, Miss Potter's apologist."

"I remember," he said, still looking at Alex. She shifted nervously. "You'll be wanting to see her, I suppose?"

Hugh answered for her. "I'm not sure if that's strictly-"

"In!" barked Greengrass, making Alex jump, and he stepped back from the doorway. "Come and see what you've wrought, girl."

Alex hesitated, looking to Hugh for help. What was she meant to do?

"Come on then," said Hugh, placing his hand on her shoulder. Alex wished she could draw comfort from it, but he seemed as out of his depth as she did.

They entered together, Greengrass pausing to shake Shacklebolt's hand somewhat more warmly as he followed. It was a small, private ward, with just the one bed. A large sphere of swirling water hung in the air next to the bed, glittering with silver motes of magical light. A thin line of water stretched out from the sphere, connecting to Daphne's temple.

She was lying on her back with her eyes closed, apparently sleeping peacefully. But she wasn't sleeping: hanging on the wall above the head of the bed was a clock face with a single hand. The hand pointed firmly atCOMA.

Alex took a step closer, her eyes landing on Daphne's neck. A line of pink, scarred skin crossed it from one side to the other. The nightmare had cut Daphne's throat. The nightmare Alex had summoned.

Alex blinked quickly, trying to stop tears.I did this, she thought. She remembered the first time she met Daphne, back on the train. For a moment she thought they were going to be friends. Maybe in another life they could have been... they got on so well at Christmas.How did it come to this?

"What'sshedoing here?" said Astoria.

Alex turned in surprise; she hadn't noticed her. Like Harmand, Astoria looked just like the dream: taller and thinner than Daphne, but sharing the same white blonde hair and nose.

Hugh intervened. "You must be Astoria," he said, "Miss Potter is here to pay her respects, before we have a little chat with your father."

Greengrass stepped forward, standing between Hugh and Astoria. "Don't talk to my daughter like she's an idiot, boy," he said. "Tell her the truth: you're here to beg. Aren't you?"

"We're here tonegotiate," corrected Hugh, rather forcefully.

"Negotiate?" said Astoria, standing up. "You're not seriously going to-"

"Quiet now, Stori," said Greengrass, fixing her with a look. Astoria flushed.

"ShekilledDaphne! You can't be-"

Greengrass waved his wand, silencing Astoria. "Enough of that, young lady," he said. "We'll talk about this later."

"What did she mean?" Alex said, her voice betraying her with a wobble. "Daphne... she... she's alive, isn't she?"

"She's alivenow," said Greengrass, glancing at the clock. "She was dead when she Snape got to her. If he hadn't known the spells to bring her back-" he looked at Alex again, and once again his face twisted in hate "-you'd be in Azkaban already. Where you belong."

"This isn't constructive," said Hugh. "Shall we retire to the conference room?"

Harmand's lip curled. "Now that I see you, I'm not interested in anything you have to say. There's nothing you can offer me to satisfy me. You don't have that kind of gold."

"You agreed to come to the table," said Hugh, and his voice was strained. Alex knew why: his whole strategy depended on this.

"I suppose I did," said Greengrass, and he sat down. "Out with it, then-" he waved his arm dismissively "-what's your offer?"

Hugh looked nonplussed - Harmand was trying to unsettle him, and it was working. Alex intervened.

"The Malfoys gave you gold, didn't they?" she said. If Greengrass was playing games, the best thing was to be direct.

Greengrass smiled, but there was no joy in it. "Maybe they did... but you're not a Malfoy. Like I said: you don't have that kind of gold."

That was too much for Astoria: she jumped up, her accidental magic breaking her silence.

"Gold?" she shouted. "We're not taking her stupid g-"

"Silencio!" Greengrass said, silencing her once more. "Out. Go and find your mother." Astoria waved her arms in protest, but Greengrass pointed to the door. They watched Astoria leave in silence. When the door closed, Greengrass spoke once more.

"My daughter, while out of place, is correct. I'm not interested in your gold. You almost killed my daughter. I cannot let that pass."

Alex scowled. He was lying. She couldn't prove it, but she knew it. Everything else she'd seen in Daphne's dream had been true. She was certain, now: the Greengrasses were in debt. If she'd had more gold, she could have bought freedom.

"Don't like that, do you, girl?" said Greengrass, and Alex began to suspect he was enjoying their 'negotiation'. He was playing with them. "No easy way out for the Girl Who Lived."

"I think we're done here," said Hugh.

"I agree," said Greengrass, standing up. "I assume you know the way out?"

Hugh nodded stiffly, and Shacklebolt opened the door. They left without another word.

"Well, that could have gone better," said Alex as they headed back to the lift. Hugh sighed.

"I'm not sure it could have gone worse," he said. "I don't know why he even agreed to see us."

"He wanted to see Alexandra," said Shacklebolt, speaking for the first time since they'd entered the room. He wasn't part of their party, after all. He was there to guard her. To stop the dangerous Dark witch from escaping. "To gloat."

Hugh made a sound like "hmph!" and they continued in silence. Alex's thoughts turned back to Daphne. To the terrible scar on her neck. To the fact that she'd died. And no wonder: the image of Daphne in her bed, the sheets soaked in blood, was fixed in Alex's memory forever. There had been so much blood... of course she had died.

I have to thank Snape, when I get back, she thought. But then she realised: there was no "when I get back". She wasn't going back to Hogwarts. She was going to Azkaban.

And maybe she should. She'd almost killed Daphne. And, she realised with shock, she'd never even said sorry. She stopped walking.

"What is it?" said Shacklebolt, stopping immediately. He'd known she'd stopped without even looking.

"I need to tell Mr Greengrass something," she said.Even if he does hate me.

"I don't think-"

"Please? I'll just be a minute."

"Very well," said Hugh. "We'll wait here. Unless you object, Kingsley?"

"Don't stray," Shacklebolt said, "and come back immediately. I'll know if you try to escape."

Alex nodded.

"Come now, Kingsley," said Hugh, "don't you think that's a bit-"

"She's a prisoner accused of attempted murder," said Kingsley. His tone allowed no argument. Alex suddenly wondered what he thought of it all: did he think she should go to Azkaban too? He looked at Alex sternly. "I'll be monitoring you."

"I'll only be a minute," Alex repeated, and she turned back the way they'd come, back to Daphne's ward. When she got there the door was ajar. About to knock, she paused when she heard voices.

"I urge you to reconsider," said a man's voice, not Greengrass. "The longer we leave it, the harder the scarring will be to reverse. It may even become completely irreversible."

"Not yet," said Greengrass. It sounded like they were by the bed. "I need the scarring for the trial. We can get rid of it after."

Alex's eyes widened. He was deliberately keeping her scars?

The mystery man spoke again. "I'm telling you, it's possible we won't be able to. Your daughter-"

"My daughter will survive. I have Potter exactly where I want her."

They paused for a moment. "Very well," said the man. "As her father, the decision is, of course, yours. Now, there's a new treatment I'd like to try-" he was a healer, then, "-not for the scarring. To wake her up. Our Dark magic specialists have figured out what's wrong with her, and I'm confident the treatment will work. I just need your consent and we can start today."

"Notyet," said Greengrass. "Haven't you been listening? I need her to stay like this. The worse she appears, the better our chance of success."

"Surely," said the healer, incredulity clear in his voice, "your daughter's well being comes before revenge."

"Revenge?" said Greengrass, and he laughed. "This isn't about revenge. This is about gold."

Alex gasped, before slapping her hand over her mouth. Too late: the door swung open before Alex could even think of hiding.

"You," said Greengrass, almost snarling. He grabbed her by the front of her dress and pulled her into the room, slamming the door shut. "What did you hear?"

"Nothing," said Alex, looking between Greengrass and the healer. Surely he wouldn't let anything happen to her. Not in the middle of a hospital. "I was just-"

"You were spying on us," said Greengrass, and he pulled his wand out from his robes. Alex stepped back, her back bumping into the wall.

"Please," she said, her legs feeling weak. "Don't hurt me." She looked again at the healer, silently begging him to help her.

"Harmand..." the healer said, warningly.

"Oh, don't worry," said Greengrass, not looking away. "I'm not going to hurt her."

Alex almost collapsed with relief.

"However." He raised his wand. "Obliviate!"