Flourish and Blotts was packed. Witches were in the majority, but there were also quite a few wizards, as Kettleburn's writing had broad appeal. Tom now understood the decision to schedule this event on Halloween, for many attendees were costumed as characters from Lou Garou. The eponymous hero was most popular of course, but Tom noticed several golden-haired Caryls, some daringly-dressed Sophronias, and a menacing-looking Marwin twirling his moustache. Perhaps Tom had been too restrictive when instructing Ignis to invite only the most respectable-looking werewolves to this event; some genuine Dark injuries would have been admired as skillful illusions, considering how many inexpertly painted-on scars were visible on some of the more enthusiastic attendees.
There were few chairs and hardly any room to stand. Mr. Blott had sensibly handed out tickets at the entrance, to call numbers later to determine the order in which autographs were given. This freed customers to wander about the shop.
Tom spotted Eric, Briar, and Bramble in the crowd but saw no reason to publicly advertise their acquaintance. That would require an introduction to the Prewetts and perhaps an explanation of how they knew each other. For their part, the werewolves seemed content to maintain their public unfamiliarity with him.
Hermione quickly vanished into the furthest recesses of the bookshelves. Tom and Tessie left Mrs. Prewett chatting with friends and strolled through the bookshop, with Dobby at Tom's heels. Tessie was practically glowing with pride to be seen on the arm of the heir of Riddle. Tom appreciated her company too, for she was an effective shield against the hordes of not-Cecilias infesting the shop. He could see Serpens dismissing two of them. Many witches were eager to comfort the wealthy Mr. Malfoy, who surely must be lonely, considering his wife's incarceration. Tom wondered if inviting him had been a good idea.
Serpens spotted Tom and beckoned him, perhaps to berate him for suggesting this tiresome event, so Tom said, "Let me introduce you to my friend Serpens," and led Tessie forward.
She resisted, however, so he stopped. "He's with my great-uncle Balthazar," she explained.
"The Wizengamot member?" asked Tom, delighted.
Tessie nodded. "I don't think he likes my side of the family much. There was disagreement over the inheritance of the estate ages ago, and…"
"But I can't ignore my friend Serpens," said Tom. "Come. We'll get introductions over with quickly. I'll defend you if he attempts to pick your pocket."
Tessie smiled at Tom, then took a deep breath and charged forward as directly as she could considering the crowd, with Tom and Dobby following in her wake, until there was a meeting of four humans and three elves, for Serpens and Balthazar had a rag-clad elf each. This concentration of wealth attracted the attention of a subtle shimmer in the air, no doubt a Witch Weekly photographer such as the very discrete Anne Perks. Tom took care to avoid looking at her directly, for she clearly wanted candid shots if she was willing to suffer the inconvenience of being invisible in a crowd, with all the jostling that entailed.
"Good afternoon, great-uncle Balthazar," Tessie said pleasantly. "It's good to see you."
The old wizard blinked at her. "Good afternoon. Serpens, let me introduce you to my great-niece… Teresa Prewett, is it?"
"Quintessa," she corrected, "but I go by Tessie."
"Oh," said the old wizard. "Well, I was close enough." He said this with a smile at Serpens, who smiled agreeably back at him. "This is my friend Serpens Malfoy."
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Malfoy," said Tessie.
"My pleasure, Miss Prewett," said Serpens. He kissed her hand perfunctorily.
Tessie took a deep breath. "Great-uncle Balthazar, I'd like to introduce you to my dear friend Tom Riddle, heir of the Little Hangleton Riddles. Tom, this is my great-uncle Balthazar Prewett. Don't be offended if he forgets your name; he is very old."
Tom smiled and extended his hand to shake. "I'm pleased to meet you Mr. Prewett."
Balthazar looked at Tom's hand, his general appearance, and the elf at his heels, and said, "I'm not familiar with the Riddle family."
"I've mentioned him before," said Serpens. "This is the wizard who saved Corvus's life. I assure you, the Riddles are a respectable family. Tom married a Gaunt, a witch of the purest blood."
"Oh!" After some consideration, Balthazar deigned to shake Tom's hand. His hand was stronger than it looked. "I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Riddle. I have read of the Gaunts in Nature's Nobility. I don't believe I have the latest edition. Is your wife here?" He looked at Tessie in confusion.
"Unfortunately, she's here in name only, in Nature's Nobility," said Tom. The editors had been happy to correct Merope's date of death in the 1928 edition, and it had taken only a few galleons to convince them to add her husband and son, but they'd balked at adding the rest of the Riddles, claiming that adding an entire family would disrupt the page layout. Tom was patient and would wear them down. For now, he donned the appropriate expression. "You see, she died not long after we married."
Tessie patted his arm in a comforting way.
"Oh! My condolences for your loss, Mr. Riddle."
"Thank you. I have good friends who keep me from despair. Tessie is a beam of light brightening the darkest time of my life, encouraging me to attend diversions such as this."
Tessie showed off her lace-trimmed décolletage with an emotional sigh. "Oh Tom, I'm glad to help."
"My friend Serpens is a comfort as well," said Tom. "It's impossible to dwell on tragedies of the past when in his presence."
"Well then, it's about time we met, Mr. Riddle," said Mr. Prewett. "I expect I'll see more of you in the future."
"I look forward to it," said Tom.
"Let's see if we can get closer to the lectern," said Tessie, so Tom nodded farewell to Serpens and Mr. Prewett and let her tug him away.
"All your galleons still in your purse?" asked Tom. "Count them to make sure."
Tessie laughed. "I think he liked you," she marveled.
"Why wouldn't he?" asked Tom.
"Well. He doesn't normally think much of halfbloods. But he clearly could tell that you're a wizard of quality." Tessie suddenly stopped strolling. "Ignis?!" she exclaimed.
"Tessie!" said Ignis. "It's good to see you again."
"It's been ages since I saw you last!" said Tessie. "Gryffindor Tower wasn't the same without you."
"Sorry to leave you bored," said Ignis.
"I found entertainments." Tessie smiled. "Oh, but I must introduce you. Tom, this is my old friend Ignis McKinnon. We went to school together. Ignis, this is my dear friend Tom Riddle, heir of the Little Hangleton Riddles."
Ignis blinked, then extended his hand to Tom. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Riddle," he said with almost a straight face.
"Likewise," said Tom, shaking his calloused hand. "Please call me Tom. Any friend of Tessie is a friend of mine."
"Then please call me Ignis. My card." He drew one from his pocket with a practiced flourish and handed it to Tom. His new cards had better printing quality than before.
"Thank you," said Tom, tucking it in his wallet.
"Don't I get one?" asked Tessie.
"Of course." Ignis handed her a card.
She read it. "Little Hangleton! But that's…" She looked at Tom suspiciously.
"Just down the hill from the Riddle House, yes," admitted Tom. "Ignis and I have been friends for, what, nearly two years now? Longer than I've known you."
"Oh, you!" exclaimed Tessie, shoving Tom's shoulder with affectionate exasperation. "And you!" she scolded Ignis. She sighed, with the usual effect. "Two men at once, just toying with me for your amusement. Scoundrels the both of you, taking advantage of an innocent maiden so." She shaped her coral lips into an artful pout.
Ignis and Tom let out their laughter.
Tessie read the card aloud. "'McKinnon Pest Control. Ignis McKinnon, Exterminator, specializing in Dark creatures.' That sounds exciting."
"It is," said Ignis. "If any Dark creature is troubling you, give me a call, or send an owl."
"You always were interested in Dark creatures," said Tessie. "There was much speculation about your disappearance. We wondered if you'd been eaten by something in the Forbidden Forest." Her gaze flicked to Ignis's silver hand, but quickly returned to his face.
"Nothing so dramatic," said Ignis. "I always knew I wanted to go into business for myself, be my own boss. You don't need NEWTs for that. I got tired of listening to those stuffy old professors and following their rules, so I set off on my own."
"I don't recall you following their rules," laughed Tessie.
"Well, tired of getting detention for not following their rules," admitted Ignis with a smile. "I figured I could teach myself better than they could, and indeed I did. I'm doing quite well for myself now, actually. People need a good exterminator."
"So what are you doing here?" Tessie asked.
"Buying an autographed copy of Lou Garou of course," said Ignis. "Why else would I be here?"
"You're a Kettleburn fan too?" squealed Tessie.
"I read her more adventurous stuff, like..." The milling crowd churned some new people their way. Ignis's attention was abruptly taken by someone in a long hooded grey cloak. Ignis stared at the cloak's featureless back as the person walked away. "Excuse me," he said to Tom and Tessie. "Running my own business, I'm always on the lookout for new clients." He readied a card in his hand and weaved through the crowd in pursuit of the hooded figure.
Tessie scanned the crowd. "I see more friends to introduce you to." She looked at Tom sternly. "And you'd better behave, or else."
"Or else what?"
She couldn't maintain her stern look. "Or else I shall be very amused, and I know you live to torment me, not amuse me, so you will have failed."
Tom blinked a few times. "Leave scheming to Slytherins, please. I fear you'll sprain something."
Tessie giggled and tugged his arm to lead him to a pair of similarly giggling girls. "Perdita! Acantha! How are you?"
The girls exchanged the requisite greetings and cheek-kisses.
"I must introduce you to my dear friend Tom Riddle, heir of the Little Hangleton Riddles. Tom, these are my friends Perdita Pucey and Acantha Brown."
Tom gifted them with his smile and kissed their hands, and if Perks wasn't there to document his charm, that was her loss. "I'm pleased to meet you."
"Likewise," said Perdita. "Tessie's told us so much about you."
"I thought she was exaggerating," said Acantha.
"But she wasn't. Not at all," marveled Perdita.
"I told you, Witch Weekly photographs don't lie," said Tessie.
"She's been so happy since she met you," said Perdita.
"You make such a lovely couple," said Acantha.
Tessie rushed to correct her. "We are not a couple. Tom is still in mourning, and is not courting anyone yet. We are friends," she said firmly.
Perdita sighed. "It's so tragic. My condolences for your loss, Mr. Riddle."
Acantha cast a quizzical look at Perdita, who whispered an explanation in her ear. Tom overheard "killed by muggles." Acantha gasped.
"But today I am here to enjoy this author's talk," said Tom hurriedly. "And buy a book to distract me from my sorrow."
"So tragic," sighed Acantha.
These embarrassing condolences were fortunately interrupted by an amplified voice: "Good afternoon, everyone, and welcome to Flourish and Blotts, your source for quality books! Today we are honored to host Lerina Kettleburn, author of numerous novels, conveniently available from that display by the register for anyone who doesn't yet have the complete collection. They also make great gifts! Beat the Yule shopping rush. Today Miss Kettleburn will talk about her latest novel, Lou Garou, and then sign autographs. And now, without further ado, Lerina Kettleburn!"
Miss Kettleburn smiled and walked to the lectern. She set down a copy of Lou Garou, gaily festooned with multicolor bookmarks, looked down at a parchment in her hand, and cleared her throat with an unfortunately amplified voice. She took a breath to speak, but—
A different amplified voice assaulted Tom's ears and made the crowd jump. "Your book is nothing but lies! Werewolves are pure evil! Lupus Fumus!" Grey smoke billowed from the top of a bookshelf. It smelled sort of like woodsmoke, but also had an animal musk to it.
Miss Kettleburn let out a brief, painfully amplified shriek, then hid behind a wall of Lou Garou books.
Tessie, Perdita and Acantha joined the crowd stampeding to the door only to be crushed against it as it refused to open. Tom didn't run, on the principle that he was expected to.
"Werewolves must die!" called a different painfully amplified voice. "Lupus Fumus!" Another cloud of grey smoke billowed from the top of a different bookshelf, and the smell grew worse.
Tom scanned the crowd. Not everyone was running for the doors. Someone in a grey hooded cloak tapped her own head with her wand and vanished, but not quite: Tom detected the shimmer of disillusionment climbing up a bookshelf. Tom tried to struggle his way through the panicked crowd to reach her, to stop her, but it was no use.
"Werewolf-lovers must die!" came her amplified voice from the top of the bookshelf, then "Lupus Fumus!" and the billows of grey smoke.
"Dobby," said Tom.
"Yes Master?" Dobby's voice was muffled, and his face, oddly proportioned at the best of times, now looked even stranger, as his head was surrounded by a clear bubble that distorted the view of his features. "Dobby suggests that Master cast a Bubble-Head charm on himself, if Dobby may be so bold."
"Of course." Tom barely had time to draw his wand before a bubble appeared on his head. The air was refreshingly clean. Tom breathed deeply and suppressed his reflex to thank Dobby. "Can you apparate?"
"No, Master. Dobby has never seen wards like this before. Dobby can't get through."
There went Tom's plan to have Dobby apparate everyone to safety. What to do now? He could use Dobby's assistance dueling these attackers, but many in the panicked crowd lacked these protective bubbles, and some were starting to cough. He sheathed his wand. "Give a bubble like this to everyone who needs one," he ordered Dobby. "Be sure to help the Prewetts, and Mr. Malfoy, and Miss Prewett's friends."
"Yes Master." Dobby got to work.
Tom searched for the tell-tale shimmer of disillusionment, but the obscuring smoke and chaos of panicked people made the task impossible. The damned calls of "Lupus Fumus!" seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, and the smoke continued to thicken. Unusually heavy for smoke, much of it sank to the floor, so Tom could see absolutely nothing below his knees. He stepped carefully, not wanting to trip over anyone who'd fallen. His ears hurt from the annoying yelps of panicked people. There had to be a solution to this if everyone would just think rationally. Screaming didn't help anyone.
Something sharp cut his ankle, and he involuntarily cried out. He hadn't been moving fast but must have hit his ankle against something, broken glass perhaps. Balancing carefully, hoping no one chose that moment to crash into him, he raised his injured leg up above the densest of the smoke to survey the damage.
Some of the smoke came with him. Not smoke: a small grey wolf, its teeth still embedded in Tom's ankle. It growled and fixed its shadow eyes on him.
Tom grabbed its jaw to pry it off and felt it dissolve into intangible wisps, which slowly sank to join the layer of smoke which continued to rise from the floor.
Someone crashed into Tom from behind. He had no choice but to sink his bleeding leg back down through the smoke in an attempt to avoid falling, but it was no use: the soft weight overwhelmed him and he went down, breaking his fall by plunging his hands through the smoke to the floor.
"Sorry!" cried the matronly witch who'd crashed into him.
"No apology necessary," said Tom. He jumped to his feet as quickly as he could, but not before feeing teeth close around his right hand.
"Ventus!" cast the witch, aiming her wand at the small wolf he'd pulled up out of the smoke by its teeth. The wind that blew from her wand ruffled its fur, but did nothing more useful.
Tom wrestled the wolf off with his left hand. It dissolved into wisps that escaped his grip, sinking to join the growing main body of smoke.
"I can't find the right counterspell," fretted the witch. She hurried off in a panic.
"Lupus Fumus!" was followed by yet more smoke and a gleeful cackle.
The smoke rippled as Hermione flew overhead on a broom. Her hair, along with the rest of her head, was trapped in a bubble. She aimed her wand at the source of the smoke. "Stupe— Get out of the way! Expelliarmus! Aargh!"
The thought of being spelled unconscious and lost beneath that smoke was disturbing. Many people were scrambling up the bookshelves, to get above the reach of the biting smoke. This seemed like a good idea until too many people tried to climb one side of a bookshelf at once and the whole thing toppled, taking everyone down with it, with a crash loud enough to be heard over the screams.
Tessie, head encased in a bubble, reappeared by his side. "Tom! The door's warded shut!" She grabbed his arm. "Come on. We'll escape out a window. I'm good at climbing out windows."
This was an excellent idea, but the only window they could find was high on the wall. Tessie looked around. "We could stack furniture…"
"I'll hoist you up," said Tom. He made a basket of his hands. "Come on, step up. Never mind the blood; you can clean your shoes later."
She looked skeptical, but put her hands on his shoulders and stepped onto his hands with her dainty shoe, which, viewed at this proximity, was clearly cowhide embossed to resemble dragonhide, not the real reptilian material. He lifted her higher, and higher still, until he could rest her feet on his shoulders as she steadied herself on the wall. This unfortunately gave him a facefull of her voluminous skirts, but Dobby's bubble saved him from suffocation.
"I can't unlatch it!" she reported. "Alohomora," she tried, but the window didn't budge. "Bombarda!" Nothing happened but a nearby bookcase shaking and dropping some books to vanish into the rising smoke. "Steady!"
He was trying, but he'd felt teeth close on his calf, and it had taken some effort to scrape the creature off with his other foot. "Sorry."
"Bombarda Maxima!" she tried. Nothing. "You might as well let me down. This isn't working."
Tom did so as gently as possible, but she cried "Aargh!" Her panicked look down led Tom to dive into the smoke to investigate what had bitten her. His groping hands found her shoes, her silk stockings under her robes, and just above her knee, fangs gripping her flesh. Tom pried the jaw open, then felt it dissolve into smoke in his hands.
His arms under the smoke were too much of a temptation for the smoke-wolves, for he saw two grey tufts that resembled ears poke just above the surface, then felt jaws close on his left forearm. He wrestled the thing off with his right hand and felt the furry jaw dissolve.
When he looked back at Tessie's face, he saw that she looked horrified, pale.
"I hope I wasn't too forward removing that wolf from your thigh, but this isn't the time for propriety. Don't worry," Tom assured her. "We'll get out of this."
"Perdita!" Tessie cried. "She went down under the smoke! We have to save her!" She charged into the crowd and vanished.
Tom had one portkey. It could transport two people. There were many more than two people here, which made this a tricky mathematical problem. Who was the most important person to save?
He looked around. Witches and wizards were trying all manner of spells against the smoke. Apparently fire didn't work, nor did freezing, nor sprays of water, and personal shields did nothing to keep out vapors. A witch seemed to be trying to stretch a bubble-head charm to cover her completely, but her head kept popping out into the smoky air, making her cough. The less said about explosive spells in a crowd, the better. Wind spells were effective at blowing the smoke away, which made it pile up higher in other places, forming larger wolves that leaped at people's necks.
Serpens and Mr. Prewett, at least, seemed relatively safe, as they stood high above the crowd on the upstretched hands of their house elves, who were up to their necks in smoke.
Tom couldn't see Eric, Briar, or Bramble. They may have already used their portkeys to escape, possibly rescuing others, so he didn't have to worry about them. Hopefully they wouldn't snoop too much when they arrived in his office.
He couldn't see Tessie, her mother, or her friends, but considering that he didn't have enough portkeys for all of them, there was no point searching for them.
Near the lectern, Hermione and Ignis stood back-to-back, casting spells like one magical being. Disillusioned figures, like clear shimmering holes in the smoke, tried to approach them, shooting spells that homed in on them like lightning on a lightning rod, but Hermione and Ignis took turns casting shields to protect themselves and firing back, so their enemies couldn't get close.
Hermione and Ignis are guarding Miss Kettleburn, Tom realized. She's the main target, the king in this chess game.
Tom ducked beneath the smoke, completely hidden, and crawled towards the lectern and display of new books as fast as he could through the absolute darkness. He crawled around fallen bodies as necessary. Smoke coalesced to bite his arm, his side, his leg, but the smoke-wolves were easily crushed into vapor once they bit. He steadily advanced, placing his bloody hands on the floor and unsticking them to crawl further.
He felt teeth hook onto the skin between his shoulder blades, not a deep bite, but a difficult spot to reach. He tried grabbing the creature but couldn't get a good angle. He abruptly rolled, first feeling the pain intensify as teeth were driven deeper into his flesh, then falling to the floor with a thud as the smoke-wolf that had been supporting his weight dissipated.
The smoke-wolf that closed its teeth around his throat was much easier to reach, or at least it would have been had another wolf not bitten his right hand at the same time, and another bitten his left wrist. The smoke-wolves were getting stronger as the smoke thickened. Tom mustered all his strength and slammed the three wolves together, feeling them break apart, and rolled back to crawl.
Crawling was slow, so he shifted position to stand and found that the smoke was now high enough that he was still completely covered as long as he hunched over. He couldn't see worth a damn, but ran forward, holding his hands in front of him, hoping he was still pointing in the right direction. Oh good: flashes of light from spellfire deflected by Hermione and Ignis penetrated the smoke a bit, which helped Tom orient himself.
He was making good time, but then his foot came down on nothingness, a crater in the floor, no doubt formed by one of the spells Hermione and Ignis were busy deflecting. It wasn't very deep, just deep enough to collect a dense mass of smoke that bit Tom's foot, fortunately protected by dragonhide. He stomped the thing off and continued forward.
At last his hands hit the wall of first edition Lou Garou books. Tom put his hands on top and vaulted over it, ignoring Miss Kettleburn's scream, and grasped her sweaty hand so his black feather was pressed between their palms. "I believe I can fly."
They appeared in Tom's office. Miss Kettleburn's screams seemed even louder in the silence. "You're safe," Tom assured her. "You're safe," but she kept screaming.
The aftereffects of the portkey made it seem as if his office was slowly rotating, but Tom made his way to the bell to call Fiona. She arrived promptly.
"Tea for my guests, please," said Tom loudly enough to be heard over the screams. "Have the others arrived yet?"
"No, Mr. Riddle."
"They should arrive soon. I'm not sure how many…" survived.
"Yes Mr. Riddle," said Fiona, who hurried away.
"Have a seat by the fire, Miss Kettleburn," Tom urged, managing to usher her into one. Her screams sounded more like sobs now. He peeled the portkey off his bloody hand and got a handkerchief for her. Unfortunately, touching a handkerchief with his hand bloodied it, so he wiped his hands with it some more, discarded it, and got a new one for her with his left hand, for his right was currently unsuitable for keeping linen clean. Tom wanted to wash his hands properly, for pulling all those wolf teeth out of his flesh had been a messy job, but he didn't want to leave Miss Kettleburn alone. "You're safe," he repeated.
Fiona reappeared with a tray of tea and biscuits.
"Milk and three sugars, right?" Tom asked.
"Yes," Miss Kettleburn managed.
Fiona prepared a cup of tea to Miss Kettleburn's cloyingly sweet preference and transferred it to her trembling hands.
"The Riddle House has some of the most secure wards in Britain," Tom assured her.
Miss Kettleburn took a shaky but deep breath.
Fiona couldn't really be faulted for starting when Ignis appeared, holding Hermione's limp, bleeding form, for Miss Kettleburn and Tom started too. Ignis gently lowered Hermione to the floor, dropped the feather he'd clutched between their hands, and set to work magically healing the gash in her side.
Miss Kettleburn screamed again.
"Miss Kettleburn, please—" tried Tom.
"Safe?! You call this safe?!" she exclaimed, gesturing at the bloody floor.
"Yes. Miss Granger was injured at the book shop, and came here to safety. It's perfectly safe here."
"Who set your wards?"
"She did. Miss Granger," but saying that required looking in her direction, and the sight of her horribly pale face, her limp hands completely lacking the tension and activity that usually animated them, made Tom fear he was going to be sick. He'd best sit down before he fell, but that required finding a chair, and Tom wasn't sure if he could navigate all the way to one, considering the way his office continued to slowly rotate in a most irritating manner.
"So if she dies the wards will fall, and—"
"She won't die!" roared Tom. And even he knew that wards built with properly-inscribed runes outlived their casters, unlike common protective charms cast with spoken words and wand-waving, but this wasn't the time to regurgitate Eric's runes lecture. Tom collapsed into his desk chair and risked another look. Ignis's chanted spells and fast wandwork seemed to be making progress, for Hermione had stopped bleeding, and that had to be a good sign, right? It had to be.
Ignis had said that Hermione had taught him healing, but it wouldn't hurt to have help. "Dobby!"
There was a disturbing pause before the reassuring pop. "Yes Master?" said Dobby, breathing hard.
Tom pointed. "Heal her."
"Mistress Granger!" Dobby exclaimed as he rushed forward to her.
Ignis backed away to give Dobby room to work. He sat on the floor, hunched over in exhaustion.
"Or perhaps once she's stable, she should go to St. Mungo's?" suggested Tom.
"St. Mungo's will be busy, I dare say," said Ignis hoarsely. "They may be doing triage. There were… A lot of people there. Exits sealed. Anti-apparition ward. Floo blocked. This was a very organized attack. Yes please." He accepted the teacup Fiona was offering him: milk, one sugar, his usual, and took a sip. "Thank you Tom." He looked at Tom more critically. "Tom!" He set his teacup on the floor and bolted to Tom, wand drawn. "Episkey," he cast.
Tom had instinctively recoiled from Ignis's wand, not fast enough to prevent his spell from knitting the skin of Tom's neck back together, but fast enough to lose his balance. He would have fallen gracelessly out of his chair if Ignis hadn't caught him and set him right. Tom suppressed his urge to shy away from Ignis's wand as he continued to work, healing the numerous bite wounds. Tom distracted himself by watching Dobby work on Hermione.
Dobby popped away and popped back almost instantly holding a small vial. He carefully, drop-by-drop, poured the contents between Hermione's pale lips. They quickly regained their normal dark rose color. Gradually, the rest of her face regained its color as well. She stirred, then bolted upright. "We have to go back!" she said. "People need help."
Ignis left Tom and rushed to Hermione, steadying her with an arm around her back, for she seemed about to faint. "Heal your master," he ordered Dobby. He addressed Hermione much more tenderly. "You're hurt. I'll go back."
"We can't go back blind," said Tom. He awkwardly drew his mirror from his pocket with his left hand, for Dobby was working on his right. "Eric," he called.
There was no answer for a disturbing moment, then Tom's warped reflection was replaced with Eric's scarred face. "Good afternoon," said Eric. "I mean, it's not good, but it is afternoon, so—"
"What happened?" demanded Tom. "Are you all right?"
"It's over," said Eric, "except for trying to heal the injured. I'm doing what I can. I broke the barrier so people could get out. Had to blast a hole in the wall to do it; the wards on the doors would have taken too long. Everyone left, so the attackers had no one to attack and they left too. Now the Aurors are here."
"Get out!" yelled Hermione at the mirror.
"Looks like they're interviewing witnesses—"
"Get out!" Hermione repeated. "They'll blame you!"
"Running away at this point would look suspicious, and the anti-apparition ward's still up—"
"Use your portkey!" yelled Hermione.
"Oh. Right. I believe I can fly."
Eric appeared in Tom's office, standing on the bloody floor. Both mirrors started emitting an annoying whine. Tom snapped his shut and the noise immediately stopped.
"Are you hurt?" Tom asked. "Do you need anything?"
"Do you know you still have a bubble on your head?" asked Eric, putting his mirror in his pocket.
Tom drew his wand in annoyance with his newly-usable right hand, made sure he had Dobby's eye, and vanished the bubble. His office regained an approximation of its usual proportions, but still seemed to be slowly spinning. Tom sheathed his wand and Dobby got back to puzzling together the shredded skin on Tom's calf.
"It's just," said Eric, "I want people to tell me when I look stupid, so I figured—"
"But do you need anything?" Tom insisted, for it seemed unlikely that anyone could have been through that horror without injury.
Eric thought. "Could I use your lavatory? There was a queue for the one at the bookshop, and then when the queue was gone I was busy with other stuff."
"Go ahead." Tom waved him away and opened his mirror again. "Bramble," he called.
Tom's pale, blood-splattered reflection was replaced with Bramble's frightened face under a snap-brim fedora. "Tom! Are you all right?"
"Yes. Are you and Briar all right?"
"We're fine. Could I call you back in a minute? I must look like a lunatic talking to a mirror on Charing Cross Road."
"Of course." Tom's mirror reflected his own pale face again, although it hardly looked like his face, so he closed it.
"Master should drink some blood replenishing potion," said Dobby, offering Tom the vial.
Tom took a gulp. Gah! It tasted as vile as last time but he felt less faint and his office finally stopped spinning. He accepted the cup of tea Fiona offered and took a sip to wash the taste of the potion from his mouth. Dobby continued to fuss over him, mending the rips in his clothing.
His mirror soon buzzed, so he opened it again. "We're home," Bramble reported. Tom glimpsed a paisley sofa behind Bramble as he leaned back in exhaustion. "Christ, what a mess."
"What happened?" Tom demanded.
Briar leaned into the mirror's view. "We couldn't find Kettleburn," he cried. "They may have taken her."
"She's here in my office," said Tom, angling the mirror to prove it. "I portkeyed her out as fast as I could, as she seemed to be the main target."
Behind him, Miss Kettleburn squeaked in fright.
"Oh thank God," said Bramble. "We're big fans of your work, Miss Kettleburn," he called.
"But what did I miss?" Tom asked.
"Well, it's no loss to have missed our various futile attempts to break out," sighed Bramble. "We figured if anyone could do it, Eric could, so we protected him and let him concentrate. We cast illusions, made it seem like we were just ordinary bookcases, and blew the smoke away from Eric so he could see. It worked. He broke the wards and blasted a hole in the wall, then everyone ran. Well, everyone who could. Once the smoke dissipated, we saw all the bodies on the floor… We did what we could to help, but then the rozzers came so we scarpered."
"You three saved the day," realized Tom. "Good work."
Eric came back into Tom's office.
"And thank you, Eric," said Tom.
"You're welcome. I know how embarrassing it is to have something stupid on your head and no one tells you, so—"
"I meant thank you for breaking the wards."
"Oh, that. I've never seen the like. I mean, they had some things in common with the ones around the feral packs, but…" He looked at Miss Kettleburn. "Do you know you're spilling tea on the floor?"
"Oh!" She righted her cup. "Sorry."
Dobby darted to clean up the drips.
"Because I always appreciate when people tell me I'm doing something stupid, so—"
"Never mind the tea!" exclaimed Ignis. "We need a plan. This is just the beginning. They'll come after me next!"
"The wards around your house should protect you," said Hermione soothingly.
Ignis looked at her in disbelief. "How?! They were werewolves. Everyone shouting 'Werewolves must die,' they were all werewolves." He turned even paler. "And before they attacked, I gave them my card."
"Oh!" exclaimed Hermione. She thought, then brightened. "Yes, they'll definitely be determined to kill you now. They dislike Miss Kettleburn and Tom and me, but they must absolutely hate you."
"And that's bad, Hermione!" explained Ignis, turquoise eyes nearly bugging out of his head.
"No it isn't," said Hermione, baring her perfect teeth in a smile. "It makes them predictable. If they're predictable, they're easy to catch. This is perfect. You'll be the bait in the trap."