Chapter 6

…"Who is they?" demanded Elle. "And who's to say it isn't my mother's handwriting?" Mr. Potter turned to Elle for the first time, surprised by her voice. She didn't think he had noticed her sitting in the tall-backed chair opposite McGonagall's desk. "Well…" he started, running his fingers through his black hair, which seemed to defy gravity in the way that it grew. Elle caught his pleading look to McGonagall, who had retaken her seat behind the headmistress' desk. The older women did not speak. There was a heavy silence in the air as Elle waited expectantly for Harry Potter to finish his sentence.

"Elle…" Potter tried again, restarting his sentence without adding any more substance to it. Elle raised an eyebrow this time, losing her patience. All of the feelings she'd tried to bite back at the train station returned with full force. "Who is they?" Elle repeated. Mr. Potter finally spoke. "I don't know" he said. Almost absentmindedly, he waved his wand and a chair appeared, taking a seat so that he could better meet Elle's eyes.

Elle looked deeply into the older man's green eyes, searching for any hidden meanings behind his words. He looked at her unblinkingly. "There is not much about this investigation that I can speak about with you tonight." "Why not?" Elle shot back, cutting him off. Mr. Potter stole another gaze to McGonagall, and this time she responded to his supplication. "It does not do to spread rumours and falsehoods" she began in a firm voice. "Exactly" Harry replied, spreading his palms over is knees as he sat back in his chair. "I'll tell you all the facts I do know, though. Your mother went missing sometime at the beginning of the summer holidays in 2016." Elle nodded. "We have reason to believe that Jessica Williams had magical abilities, but she did not attend Hogwarts." Elle nodded again, urging Mr. Potter on. This was all information she already knew. "Since leaving the tube platform in summer 2016, we have not heard or seen from her. We have reason to believe that she left in some distress." Elle nodded a third time, but Mr. Potter did not continue speaking.

"I already know all of that!" Elle exclaimed. Mr. Potter nodded his head. "Those are the facts, Elle. It's all we're working with." "And the letter?" Elle asked, waving her hand to where the small bit of parchment still lay on McGonagall's desk. The headmistress spoke up "we have no reason to believe this letter is authentic." Elle looked to the old women "we have no reason to believe that it isn't either, based on your list of facts…" she now looked both to Mr. Potter and McGonagall in turn. "Unless there's something you're not telling me." Neither adult spoke.

"We are going to do everything we can to authenticate this letter" Harry finally said after the pause had gone on longer than was comfortable. "But we must also prepare for the alternative explanation." Elle could feel hot tears brimming in her eyes. They were talking in circles now. It was clear that whatever lead Mr. Potter was working on for her mother, he didn't believe she could have sent him this letter. But he wouldn't tell her why, not if she stayed in the tower and asked him the same questions for another two hours. Not if she asked him every day for two months.

"Right" Elle said, trying her best to sound mature and in control, but being betrayed by the slight warble in her voice. "It's clear you've given me all the information you think I deserve. I won't waste your time any longer. I have classes in the morning." She stood abruptly, and the scraping of her chair sounded louder than it should have. Probably because there were no other sounds in the room. McGonagall wished her goodnight, which Elle, rudely, did not answer. Mr. Potter didn't say anything at all. The door to the tower office slammed shut.

Elle, finally out of sight from the adults, let her tears fall freely. She was just about to step onto the moving staircase when she heard muffled voices behind her. Curiosity getting the better of her, Elle pressed her ear firmly to the thick wooden door. She couldn't make out everything that was being said however, as the voices were still low. "Albus" "Goyle" and… the voices seemed to be getting louder. Elle pressed her ear more firmly to the wood, until she could clearly make out "honestly Potter, it's like you've forgotten how you yourself…" Elle never found out how that sentence finished however, because with a swooping and sinking feeling in her chest, Elle realized the voice was getting closer because McGonagall was approaching the door. Leaping out of the way, Elle jumped quickly onto the staircase, taking them two or three steps at a time to get out of sight quick enough.

Just as she was almost far enough away from the door, she saw its wood spring forward and McGonagall's head pop out, her gaze on the still moving staircase. Elle watched as her eyes swept in her direction, just as the thick stone of the marble staircase cut off her view. Elle reached the bottom of the staircase, her heart leaping in her chest. She waited miserably for the staircase to continue bringing McGonagall towards her, sure that she had been seen. To her surprise however, the stairs ground to a halt a few moments later. Elle counted to ten slowly, waiting for the marble to restart its descent, but it never did.

Elle brought a shaking hand up to wipe the stray tears on her face, unsure if they were left over from her frustration or had leaked out in her buoyant relief. To her surprise, Elle could not see her hand. It took a second to sink in, but as soon as it had she had to bite back a loud laugh. Invisible! And she hadn't even done it on purpose. Relief washed over her as she tapped the gargoyle on his big stone shoulder, who immediately jumped out of the way, giving sight to the deserted, moonlit hallway.

Elle was still riding the feeling of relief that had washed over her after her narrow escape for the first few meters of her walk. Soon however, the sinking feeling returned to her chest as the reality of her night returned to her. She had been well and truly dismissed. It was clear to her that Mr. Potter did not believe that her mother could have sent that letter but refused to explain why. If she were to find her mother, she would be getting no help from him. A bitter feeling of hatred started to bubble in her stomach, at which point Elle realized just how hungry she was. She'd skipped dinner for a meeting in McGonagall's office yet again.

The year before, Elle had been so distraught over her mother that the hunger had felt very far away, and it had been easy to ignore. This year it was different. Perhaps it was because she had a better handle on her mother's situation now, or because she was better at dealing with her emotions, or perhaps it was simply because she was currently in some sort of perpetual growth spurt, but Elle could not ignore the twisting protest of her appetite so easily this time around. Unwillingly, a familiar voice floated in her memory. "I hear the pear is quite ticklish. Maybe worth a shot for a late-night snack."

Elle was almost so spiteful that she didn't follow Mr. Potter's advice from the year previous. Almost. With a particularly loud growl from her stomach, Elle turned on her heels and headed towards the corridor she had seen Sam and Isidre disappear down so many times before. Usually when she wandered the halls at night, the few times that she had, Elle had stuck close to the walls, darting in between suits of armor and taking tight corners. Even with her invisibility, she took no chances. This night however, Elle's head was so full of thoughts that she barely paid any attention to where she was walking. What did Mr. Potter know about her mother's disappearance? Nothing, she decided. Nothing conclusive. He hadn't lied when he'd said "I don't know", but he had been careful in his wording. "Here are the facts" means there are other things on his mind that aren't facts, yet. Suspicions. Theories. Leads.

"OOF". Elle's thoughts instantly dissipated as she collided with what appeared to be solid air. Scrambling to her feet she caught a flash of white on the floor before it quickly disappeared. Without thinking, Elle pounced on the air where the colour had been, and soon found herself wrestling with a squirming shape. After a few seconds of scuffling, she heard a loud voice exclaim something along the lines of: "PEEVES. GEROFF."

Elle sat back in surprise. She recognized that voice. "James Potter?" she called out incredulously. She let her concealment charm fall off her. "What the- Elle?" called out James' voice, and his head soon appeared, completely detached from his body and floating a foot or so off the air. James quickly shrugged off the rest of the invisibility cloak, letting the silvery fabric fall to the floor. Elle bent to inspect it, gingerly stepping over a squished baguette that must have been discarded in the wrestling that she hadn't noticed before.

She held up the cloak, wrapping it around her neck and watching, in shock, as her body disappeared. It was even better than her concealment charm, which worked best in pitch black, when the slight shimmers around her sharper angles were less likely to give her away. "You have an invisibility cloak" Elle said faintly. "Does Albus have one too?" She looked to the older boy, who was nervously running his fingers through his hair. "No- he doesn't kn- urgh come back to the kitchens with me." He finally said, keeping his eyes on the expansiveness of the great entrance at the opening of their corridor. Elle remembered suddenly that curfews existed, and followed James Potter down the hall, still nothing more than a floating head as the air-light fabric of the cloak swirled around her.

A few meters later, James stopped in front of a still life painting of many fruits. He reached out his hand and tickled the pear, which started faintly giggling until it grew into a solid doorknob. "Oh" Elle couldn't help but whisper, everything finally making sense. James looked back at the sound and clicked his teeth. "Give me that" he said, snatching the cloak away from Elle, who gave it up without protest. He then opened the door to the kitchens and quickly ushered Elle in, wary of the bright light that was now pouring into the darkened corridor.

Elle blinked at the sudden brightness, squinting as she heard a dozen squeaky voices greet them. "Back so soon master James?" "Did you forget something?" " Would you like another cup of tea?" Finally adjusting to the light, Elle looked around to see a small crowd of odd-looking creatures with large, tennis-ball eyes and floppy ears. Elle had a jolt of recognition – this was the same type of creature as the one that had collected Isidre from the train platform. James was bent over talking to them. He appeared to know them all by name.

"No more tea for me, Dipsy" he said with a smile. "Still hungry?" another voice piped up. "No, no, I'm alright Zella, really." At this questioning however, Elle remembered her original purpose. As if on cue, her stomach growled again to really drive the point home. Hearing this, about a dozen large eyes of various colours turned to her, none blinking. "I… err… might like a bite." Elle said, and suddenly there was a flurry of activity. A group of three of the creatures ushered Elle and James to two cushy seats by a roaring fire. A few minutes later, there was a thick cut sandwich and a steaming bowl of soup set in front of her on a little tray. Elle ate voraciously, thanking the various creatures between bites, who had come to check on the quality of the food multiple times. Finally, after James had finally acquiesced to another cup of tea, they were left alone for a few minutes.

James was holding the invisibility cloak in his lap, running his fingers through the fabric, which moved like water under his grip. "It was my Dad's" he said finally after a moment, "and his Dad's before that. You get the point. It's been passed down to the first son for generations." It took a moment for it to register with Elle. First son. "Oh" she said, accepting the cup of tea that was being offered to her from her left. James did likewise but did not drink. He was gazing up at the mantlepiece, where there was a large clock, though his eyes were farther away. "Sometimes I think it would have been easier if Al was born first" he said, and Elle nodded once, though she didn't really understand what he meant.

It was quiet for another long moment. Elle sipped her tea, though it was still hot enough to scald her. "He's getting better at flying" she tried tentatively. James just snorted, still playing with the invisibility cloak in his lap. "Don't tell him" James said, dropping the fabric from his hands. Elle knew he wasn't talking about flying. He turned to look at her in the eye. Elle wasn't sure he'd ever done that before, and she realized that they both had hazel irises, though his were flecked more with gold, and hers more with green. "He wouldn't understand." Elle nodded. The expression in James's eyes was not the one she expected – it was pained. For a moment longer they looked at each other, before Elle broke away.

Elle watched the flames dancing in the hearth before her. "I'm not sure I understand" she said softly, when half her cup of tea was gone. At first Elle thought that she'd gone too far – she had never seen James Potter be this serious for this long. He was looking again at the clock, and Elle followed his eyes upwards. "11:11, make a wish" he said. Elle was so surprised she let out a short laugh. "I thought that was a muggle superstition" she said "I use to hear it all the time, it was a favourite of my mo-" Elle stopped short. It was James turn to look at her curiously. "it was a favourite of my mother's" Elle finished her sentence in a whisper. "Was?" James asked. Elle nodded, but did not elaborate.

Elle stood up quickly. She took a glance at the clock, but it already read 11:12. The moment for wishes had passed, and the food in her stomach was starting to settle, dragging at her eyelids and calling for bed. "We're even now" Elle said, brushing the crumbs of her sandwich off her skirt. "What?" James said, also standing. "A secret for a secret" Elle said, rolling her eyes. "Do I have to spell everything out for you?" She headed towards the door, leaning down to thank the kitchen staff on her way out.

"Wait!" called James, as he headed towards the door as well. "It's well past curfew now, you better let me walk you back under this" he said, holding out his cloak. Elle rolled her eyes for the second time in as many minutes. "I can take care of myself, James Potter" she said, shaking on the disillusionment charm. "Show off" he muttered, before pulling the cloak around him and vanishing. The two walked quietly side by side down the corridor for some time. Thankfully, it was a quiet night, and they passed no adults monitoring the halls. Finally, they reached the point where they would split off, Elle to Ravenclaw tower, and James to Gryffindor.

"Well" Elle started, debating if she should say goodnight or goodbye. Before she could pick however, James cut her off. "I don't either" he said quickly. "What?" Elle asked, genuinely confused. "I don't understand either. Not really" James confessed. The silence felt louder in the corridor as Elle grappled for the right thing to say. James however did not seem to be expecting a response, because she heard hit faint footsteps fading away.

"Prat" Elle called out towards the retreating sounds. "We aren't even anymore." She heard the footsteps pause. "true" a voice called out "guess you owe me one."