Within the span of a mere second, three things went through Fleur's mind.
She had to think about the law of exponential increase Roland Bertrand first defined in his 1918 essay about Charm effects. She had talked about it with him earlier. It described the phenomenon of multiple Charm effects creating an increasingly more powerful version of each other, if their effects are forced to coexist at the same time, as other Charm effects.
She thought about this, because she saw her girlfriend in the middle of twenty or so wands, all in the process of starting their movements and incantations. The chance of Agatha dying from the exponential increase of effects from this volley were more than likely.
The second thing she thought about was Agatha conjuring a shield behind the Marquise, and a streak of green light shooting towards it from across the lawn. She had to know what drawing her wand would do, yet here she was, finishing an array of complex charms and transfigurations, and no more time to counteract anything.
The last thing Fleur thought about was that her body didn't move. It didn't move. Just as it did back in the labyrinth. She was scared; terrified, just as she was in the lake. Yet, she had to move, she had to do something.
She had to move.
Fleur saw as Agatha realized that she was doomed. That certain crooked smile she had when she knew she was beat. Yet, still she took one more step forward, to shield all behind her as best as she could.
How Fleur hated that. Truly, she despised the fact Agatha sacrificed everything, to save someone who had only caused her grief. How little she must value herself. How she must hate herself to die for someone she despised.
Even in that mere second, Fleur felt her heart beating faster than it had when she faced the dragon, even faster than in the Fey temple. It hammered against her sternum; against her spine and ribs, pushing and shouting out to her to move! There it was, all the blood and heart rate she needed. The only thing she had to do was…
MOVE!
Her wand became a blur as she began to dismantle the obvious Stunner, the fastest of the thralls was sending. Next, a Bone-Breaker. Easy twist and flick, and done. She got the Blood boiler, skipped the Expelliarmus, and counteracted the sloppy Reducto aimed for Agatha's head. She couldn't do much about the blue curse she saw, and neither could she counteract the three bone breakers that tore through Agatha's right leg, because all her focus lied, as the first volley found its end, with a Cutting Curse aimed right at Agatha's throat.
She could hear her heart in her ears; felt it in her throat. Her wand movements were automatic, as if a ghostly hand guided her. It was pure muscle memory, as she turned it ninety degree to the dot, stab, twist back ninety degree, and swish for the formation of the spell.
Just as she finished, time seemed to suddenly continue. She heard the impacting spells, and the gut-wrenching sound of Agatha's leg breaking in three different spots. She fell to the ground, unconscious or dead, Fleur didn't know. She was sure she had gotten everything lethal. It was just the Cutting Curse she didn't see impacting.
With a ground shacking explosion, the shield behind the Marquise broke apart from the force of the Killing Curse. Splinters and metallic slag filled the air, and ripped apart the Marquise's ball gown. She was left standing in the shrapnel, unbothered by small scars on her back and shoulders. The Marquise was staring wide-eyed; stunned at Agatha's still body.
"NO!" Fleur screamed, when she saw gushing blood and a pool of red form around Agatha's head. She sprinted to her, and the moment she saw the blood squirting wound, her breath of relief could only come out as a sobbing cough. Fleur had done it. She had redirected it. The Cutting Curse had hit right beneath the clavicle, just inches away from cutting straight through the airpipe.
As if she hadn't just dismantled four, and redirected another spell in the span of a second, her hand began to shake uncontrollably, and even though she tried, she couldn't aim at the gaping wound to close it.
Fleur noticed the commotion around her, but it was as if the sounds dulled and her vision blurred. Everything she had was focused on getting her hand stable and cast something to close her wounds. But her hand shook. Her fingers cramped, and her heart kept beating too fast.
And she was so unbearably angry.
This was Beauxbatons. This was sacred ground! Who dared to disturb a tradition as old as the school itself? Who had the audacity to cast an Unforgivable at the Marquise? At her tribe and family? Which fool among the guests had enough of a death wish to attack not only the Delacours, but the woman she began to love too?
She saw the grass below her knees start to wither from heat, before she realized that her nails had become claws like that of a bird of prey, and that her elbows sprouted another bone on which feathers grew to wings.
Her heart beat so loud, it sounded like a wardrum in her head, calling her to the slaughter. The hum of her soul, the everlasting melody she had begun to hear not long ago, changed into a violent beat, calling out to her, calling out to the Veelas around her.
To war, sisters. To war!
She just saw the hands of Nicholas Flamel pry her away from Agatha. She didn't protest. Agatha would be taken care of. She no longer needed to care. What she needed now, was vengeance.
The lawn had become a battlefield, and when her gaze turned to the skies, she saw the great maw from which a snake crawled forward. The Dark Mark. Which meant the wizards and witches attacking the guests of Beauxbatons, the ones who had dared to perform this desecration, were Death Eaters.
Dead men walking.
So she sang, and her voice was only heard by human ears for the shortest while, when she opened her mouth to let it go. After that, nothing was heard, but every glass, vase, every crystal figure burst into pieces, and a choir of her sisters made the earth tremble with the righteous fury of the Delacour tribe.
She didn't count how many Veela were around her. It mattered little for her. Fleur swung her wings, felt the air under them and the magic within them, as she shot forward like an eagle diving for its prey.
The first fool of a Death Eater, hiding behind his mask; believing himself untouchable, held his ears in terror at her scream. She held it, louder and louder, until she saw the white of his eyes turn red, and blood trickle from his nose and ears.
The Death Eater fell to the ground, motionless. Fleur already focused on the next one, and found the fire within her burn even hotter when she saw her former boyfriend among them. Michelle Duval, the first person she thought she had loved, stood amidst the fighting, terrified and panicking. His ball robes were tattered from cutting curses, and she could clearly see it. The Mark was on his arm.
"Michelle!" she screamed out in fury, but her voice was not what had the Death Eaters halt in horror. Some of them tried to flee, and found themselves imprisoned by Charms and the magic of the palace itself. Neither running nor apparating brought them anywhere, so they stopped, watching their doom unfold.
Her feathers fluffed, as if by static, as a soft melody became louder. Just as soothing as it was for her, so terrifying was it for the Death Eaters. The Marquise had found her voice again, and it was obvious that the Death Eaters had planned this attack with her being dead in mind. Now there was no escape. Her voice became all encompassing, and even those among her enemies who deafened themselves as a last ditch effort, could feel the vibrations through their bones, subjugating them.
"Why?" Fleur demanded, her voice like an eagle's cry. Michelle looked her in the eyes, and all she could see was rage and hunger, ugly jealousy that had become endless hatred.
"I've been trapped by you for an entire year! Just like you slags trap the entirety of France. But no more!" Michelle built himself up, and she saw that he knew that it was over for them. The courage one gets when they hear the blade of the guillotine rush towards their neck. "The Forgotten King will rise and gather his empire once more! My Lord will put an end to your kind, and we will finally be free!"
Before he could speak another word, a well aimed Stunner sent him to the ground, followed by volley after volley of Stunners, until the last trapped Death Eater lay defeated. The many officers of the law in attendance, Aurors, hitwizards and wardens, had used the Veela's warcry to mount a defence.
"Fleur?" Her father laid a hand on her shoulder, and she tensed as if an electric shock had hit her. "My flower, are you alright?"
She stared at the dead or unconscious Death Eater she had faced, and noticed that she didn't care if he was gone or not. What were they but vermin? Men who chose to be monsters. Treating them as such, and putting them down, was a mere sign of respect for their decision. Still, she wasn't alright.
Because she had done so in a form she never wanted to see herself in. Her grandmother had described it to her once, the power one felt as fury took over. She hadn't spoken about the emptiness that came afterwards, or how heavy the wings felt as they slowly decayed and worked themselves back into her body.
"Fleur?"
"Where is Agatha? Is she alright?"
Emmanuel hugged his daughter, ever so careful, as if she was back to being his six-year-old girl, and not a fully grown nymph on the warpath. "No worries. Madame Maxime had her brought to the Healer's Ward."
"I will be there, then."
"Ow,"
Agatha felt soft linen around her, with her body tucked into several layers of bedsheets. The smells of potions, salves and tinctures hung thick in the air. Most of it came from her body, and for just a moment she wondered why.
Then she remembered that she may have saved the Marquise's life, only to be rewarded with a good twenty spells to her face. Why that hadn't killed her was a question she needed no answer to, to be glad about it. "Ooooow," she groaned a bit louder.
Part of her was annoyed at herself, for not just letting the Marquise eat that Killing Curse. Then again, she couldn't just stop being an Executor, on leave or not. She was still sworn to protect, even, or rather, especially people like the Marquise. Also, pretending like she had made a conscious decision was naive. She had reacted. It had been pure reflex, trained for years. It made no difference that it had been the Marquise she protected. The target could have been one of the waiters, she would have done the same.
Just that the waiter wouldn't have had a personal security detail, ready to unleash hell on the devil.
Well, there was little use crying over a botched potion. She was breathing, and from what she could see, in the Beauxbatons Healer's Ward. So far, so good. The white marble was gone, replaced by white tiles, and beautiful mosaics of greek goddesses of healing and medicine.
She could barely move her head. Her neck felt as if it was about to break like a little twig. Her entire body hurt like someone had tried to quarter her. She had a hard time moving her limbs, even if she only tried to stretch her fingers and toes. Her right leg completely denied her service.
Which wasn't surprising. Few things can rival the potential for destruction wrought upon a target, as such a wide variety of spells hitting all at once. It took all she had, to get up into a halfway sitting position.
The ward was empty on first sight. Then she spotted a small golden-blonde ball rolled up in the armchair next to her bed. Fleur was still asleep, and dressed in her ball gown, with her left arm hanging down from where she had held Agatha's hand.
Outside the ward, she heard the voices of a few people conversing. How long has it been since the attack? The clock above the door showed four in the morning. Which meant nothing had hit her hard enough to send her into a deeper, longer sleep. Good start, all things considered.
"Good morning, Fleur. Fleur?"
With a small jolt, Fleur woke and immediately sat ramrod straight in the chair. Eyes blinking away the sleep, focused on Agatha. The moment she truly realized she was awake, Fleur flung herself at her. "Cheri!"
"Ow ow ow," Agatha felt every touch like needles on her skin. "I'm alive, please, ouch, stop."
"Sorry, sorry, I'm just…. You almost died… again." Fleur had a thousand-mile stare, remembering. "Stop that."
"Sorry," Agatha let out a deep sigh. It wasn't fair to Fleur. Agatha thought back on the fact that most Executors remain single, for this specific reason. Death was around every corner, and their duty and oaths demanded of them to put themselves into danger.
The stress this must cause Fleur, was a sin Agatha was deeply aware of. It wasn't lost on her that Fleur's hair were sprinkled with small feathers, and that she still had the smell of ash and fire on her. At some point, Fleur must have lost control of her anger.
Fleur touched her cheeks with the utmost care, slowly stroking Agatha. "No, cheri. You 'ave done the right thing. Had you not," Fleur let out a deep breath. "Had you not, my tribe would have had to mourn the end of an era. We have been in the bad graces of the Marquise, but still, she is an icon; a monument to the Delacour Veelas."
"Have been?"
Fleur smiled at her. "The Marquise has accepted the fact that you saved her life."
"Oh? So, we're good?"
"Not entirely," Fleur shook her head in exasperated amusement. "However, as it turned out, their assumptions were off, to say the least."
"Explain?"
"They had expected you to try and dismantle my tribe, and Veela as a whole. Apparently, the Mother Veela was aware of conspiracies to kill important members of our tribes, and you were a prime suspect… for some reason."
Agatha laughed weakly, because her ribcage hurt from anything more. "They thought our relationship was for me to get close to the Marquise?"
"Rather elaborate for something you could do with a week worth of Executor work, huh?"
"From what your mother said, the Veela did see me as a threat from day one. Maybe they fell prey to prejudice."
"Yes, big scary devil that you are." Fleur said, while she moved a loose strand of hair away from her face, and placed a little peck on a bruise on Agatha's cheek.
"Big scary devil, indeed." Agatha murmured. It was as if she had an itch and couldn't scratch it. Something felt off, and she couldn't say it was an unfamiliar feeling. This had the stink of her mother's work all over it. Could it be that her assumption was incorrect? That Anes'Rath would still cooperate with Voldemort, or at the very least coordinate? Destroying the Veela, while lifting agents of destruction into power, and blaming her mongrel child for it? Well, she knew the old saying, that if the shoe fit…
"Agatha!" Fleur snipped against her forehead.
"Ow. What was that for?"
"Cheri, I could feel your thoughts. You are hurt, you are exhausted, and…"
"And?"
"You are on leave. Or did you just say that to appease me?"
Agatha's caught frown was all the answer Fleur needed. "No, I'm on leave, but…"
"Wrong." Fleur interrupted her. "Try again."
"No. I'm on leave. B…"
"There. That is what I wanted to hear. No, I am on leave. Repeat after me. No, I am on leave."
Agatha sighed, rolled her eyes and grumbled "No, I am on leave." into her pillow.
"Again. With vigor this time."
"Fleur,"
"Wrong."
"I…"
"Wrong."
Agatha tried and failed to keep down a smile at the mock outrage Fleur looked at her with. "No. I am on leave."
"And will spend some time healing and resting."
"And will spend some time healing and resting." Agatha repeated, dutifully.
Fleur had decided that if Agatha couldn't be trusted to do it by herself, she would keep watch over said healing and resting. Agatha had dreaded the prospect at first, but as it turned out, she did enjoy the french version of healing and resting. Other people may call it day drinking and lazing around on their beach, but she had been assured by Fleur that this was indeed medicinal.
She did feel the healing properties of her second Dragonblood Whiskey at one o'clock afternoon, no doubt.
What rest she had as well. She didn't mind this sort of rest at all. Her mind and body was soothed by the sight of her girlfriend in a gorgeous bikini, coming back from a swim in the Black Lake. She grinned at the fact that when Fleur shook her hair, the water perfectly reflected the sun, creating a rainbow above her head for but a moment. They had talked about the subtlety of a Veela's presence, but sometimes it really came out loud and proud.
Another remedy for her troubled thoughts was the picture the Daily Prophet had printed of them. They were looking hotter than the Nine Hells combined, walking down the stairs into Beauxbaton's ballroom. She had the newspapers next to her, and occasionally took a good look at the image. Every time she did, she felt a rush of something she was hard-pressed to define. Rightness, came to her mind. It fit. They made a stunning couple, and that gave Agatha an impish grin every time she watched the printed versions of them smile at each other, and wave at people outside the frame.
The rest of the article was drivel, of course, with the Daily Prophet having taken the statement of anyone who would talk to them, and spun a harrowing tale of a full-blown Death Eater attack, instead of keeping it as the shoddily planned assassination attempt it had been. No one had died, and a few people had to spend a night at the hospital. As far as Death Eater attacks went, this one had failed spectacularly.
There was an odd undertone in the article, as if Voldemort was now a problem of the French. If words could symbolize a relieved breath, this article would have. Britain was about to learn a painful lesson in solidarity.
Despite Fleur's disapproval, Agatha had let herself be briefed, and just remembering those reports soured her mood. There was something big going on, and no one seemed to be able to put a finger on it. It wasn't hard to figure out who Duval meant by "Lord", but who exactly was the "Forgotten King"?
She only knew one Forgotten King. However, that man was in charge of her bank accounts, and as far as she knew, was rather comfortable, deep down in his crypt, surrounded by dwarfs that served him and his loyal customers. Not to mention that any sign of the Great Emperor returning to take active control over his empire would be dealt with swiftly by his wardens. Berchtburg's headmistress was not known for her patience in this matter.
Voldemort seemed to branch out faster and further than anyone had imagined he would. In fact, the amount of Death Eaters at the ball - useless grunts as they may have been - let her assume that he was already recruiting there, long before she had exposed him.
Her mind was turning in circles, and her body still hurting as if she had been mauled by a Nundu didn't help to make it stop. She looked at the cane next to her sunlounger with utmost disdain. They had given her a cane! She looked like she was eighty with that thing, waddling around with a limp. That volley of charms and curses, all intermixing and mingling in her body at the same time, left some long-lasting injuries that would take weeks to heal.
Fucking. Weeks.
She really hoped Alastor and Remus had that poacher problem under control, because she was down for the count. Not only by her injuries, no, by official order of the ICW, also known as her father. At least that gave her time to at least go through the most interesting of her students on her almost forgotten home-visit tour. A pitiful, crumb of comfort.
"Agatha," Fleur whined. She carefully sat down next to her, still dripping wet from her swim, and clinked her own glass against Agatha's. "I'm truly trying my best to distract you, you know."
Given that close-up view, Agatha considered herself properly distracted. Weeks of this? Maybe all this healing and resting truly wasn't as bad as she could think herself into believing.
It took Fleur waving at someone inside the house, disturbing her hypnotizing pose, for Agatha to finally come back to reality.
"Did you invite Tonks?" Fleur asked. She frowned. "And 'arry?"
"No," Agatha turned and indeed there they came walking down the short path to the beach. "Not an unwelcome sight, tough." she gave them a lazy wave. "What brings you two here?"
"The weirdest request I'll ever speak out loud." Harry deadpanned, to the great amusement of Tonks.
"Is it a beachside request, or something we should talk about with more privacy?" Agatha asked, curious what would wait behind such a cryptic statement.
"Weird as it might sound, but I think the beach is good. The attire is appropriate."
Tonks snorted a laugh, trying to hide it behind her hands, but the tears of laughter in her eyes didn't lie.
"Merlin, dammit, Tonks." Harry sighed. "You promised you wouldn't laugh."
"I'm so sorry, mate." Tonks got out in between chuckles. "I didn't think they would be in bikinis while you ask that."
"Ya," Harry's voice was devoid of emotion, but his blushing cheeks told a different story. "Neither did I."
This prompted Agatha to assume a sitting position. Something she hadn't done all day, because if she was honest, her spine felt as if it wanted to break apart like the tower of loose bone dust it felt like.
"I didn't know that there are people living right at the Black Lake." Harry mused. It was obvious that he tried to waste some time, and prepare himself. "You have a beautiful house, Professor; Fleur."
Agatha appreciated Harry's efforts to get the fact he was a teenage boy, under control. His eyes never so much as twitched away from their faces, trying so hard to remain respectful, while his blush became more and more pronounced. Tonks gave him an encouraging pat on the back.
"The weirdest request, you said?" Agatha prodded. "How weird can that be?"
Tonks succumbed to her giggles once more, trying and failing to hide them in her hands.
Harry began with a deep, resigned sigh. "I need you to make me Amortentia proof, so to say. The hearing for that blasted contract is tomorrow, and we found out I'll be dosed with the stuff until it spills out of my ears. We can't really stop it, either. Something about a Marchner family, that-"
"Those fucks," Agatha growled. If one family had managed to be hated by the entire Executor corps, it was the Marchners. They were as deadly; as effective, as they were slippery. "Agreed. You will be dosed, pretty much regardless of what we do."
"But making him Amortentia proof, as he said, would require… uhm…" Now Fleur blushed. "I'm not sure if I'm comfortable singing to someone underage."
"Comfortable, it is not." Agatha agreed. "But I assume you guys have covered all avenues of approach?" she asked Tonks.
Still trying to keep her giggles in check, Tonks nodded. "Mad-Eye thinks it's a good idea."
"I know nobody is going to be comfortable with this, but it would be even more uncomfortable for me to marry Pansy." Harry begged, and added, "Also, since the Ministry is the Ministry, they also put the hearing about Sirius right after the first one. I have to be coherent that day, whatever it costs. Will you help me?"
"Merde," Fleur cursed under her breath. "You, into the house. I don't want you to get any of this magic."
"Oh, I learned my lesson from Agatha's mum. You two be careful with Harry. Harry, well… godspeed." Tonks quipped, and quickly walked back to join Styx in the kitchen to snack on whatever they were making.
"That's not encouraging," Harry said, watching Tonks greet Styx behind the glass wall.
"Encouragement would be irresponsible in this situation. You do know what you ask, right?" Agatha leaned forward, subconsciously already preparing to bring forth her natural magic.
"Tonks and the others said you could make me somewhat immune to Amortentia, even if only for a while? I took a guess at what this means." Harry pointed at Fleur. "You're going to sing to me, won't you? Like the Veela at the Quidditch worldcup?"
"Pah," Fleur gave a dismissive wave. "As if the Zeițăescu could even hope to…" she stopped, seeing Agatha raise an amused eyebrow. "Of course, yes, just like that."
"Should we just get this over with?" Agatha pressed on. Uncomfortable was an understatement. She would have slapped Harry for the audacity to even ask, in any other situation, but she had a hard time refuting the logic here. If Fleur and she could overwhelm Harry's emotions, then Amortentia would have no place to get a hold of him. What this entire endeavour would do with the lad's emotional well-being? Well, there were always Memory Charms. "We'll fill your heart and mind with us. Which means, we're going to almost immediately stun you, and send you home. I'm your Professor, and we'll keep this as professional as possible, yes?"
"Agreed," Harry nodded. "Preferred, as well."
"Then, get ready." Agatha said, and began to push her magic towards him. Merlin, did it feel wrong to do that to a fifteen-year-old, but the alternative was arguably much worse. With a husky voice, she let her aura surround him. "Now, Harry, darling, relax and listen."
Fleur's entire body seemed to protest it, but she began to hum a tune, and quickly came to song. Her notes reverberated even through Agatha's heart, soothing and calming her. It made you feel cared for, held and protected. Nothing else in this world would ever be as loving as Fleur. Nothing was worth anything without her. Even understanding the magic, Agatha was struggling to keep it from manipulating her own mind.
Where Fleur's magic hugged one to her, so did her magic enchant the mind with carnal possibilities, for which mortal men pay with their souls. Promises of endless desire, and the song of love, were a lot for a fifteen-year-old to hear during one of his first "flirts".
"Alright," Agatha whispered. "This should be enough."
Fleur ended her last note, letting it slowly fade out. "More than," she added, already pulling her wand to stun the randy teenager who would probably try and have them right here on the sun loungers, once the initial stupor wore off.
"Really?" Harry frowned. "Because I don't feel different."
"What?!"
"Quoi?"
"I don't feel different. Aren't I supposed to be a lovesick puppy right now, or what is happening?" Harry touched his body up and down as if he was looking for a wound.
"Lovesick?" Fleur protested. "You're supposed to be jumping me - us, right now. Wh- What? Why do you not?"
"Something is wrong with you, kid." Agatha said. "No offence, and not that I mind not being the object of desire for a student of mine, but it's almost as if you simply don't have any libido at all."
"Have you… I'm sorry, 'arry, but have you ever felt love?" Fleur asked, concerned. "Because that is the only possible explanation. The only people capable of withstanding are… well,... they're missing something essential by default."
"I think so?" Harry shrugged. "I had crushes. I do think of… uhm." he stopped, blushing again. "Those… thoughts. Although, I'm not feeling great. The ministry, Voldemort and, you know, my mum. Maybe that makes it fail?"
Agatha shook her head. "If anything, that should make you more susceptible to promises of comfort. Was there anything else? Something that could explain why you're immune to Veelas, Succubi and, honestly, most likely also Amortentia?"
"I don't know, I…" Harry suddenly stopped mid-sentence, eyes wide and mouth agape. "Wait a minute. I met up with Greengrass, and she did this whole witty banter spiel. Anyway, at the end, I joke that she could take my 'love-card' and keep it until after the hearing. She freaked out about the word 'wish'. Ever since then, I sometimes feel dulled? Like I won't ever feel with any intensity? I assumed it's because of," he stopped, broadly gesturing at everything.
"Greengrass?" Agatha frowned, while searching her mind for any information on the Greengrasses. She didn't know a lot. Only that Cassandra Greengrass was the younger sister of Sybil Trelawney, and also a diviner of some power.
Then she remembered a certain list she hadn't paid attention to in too long. "I have to check something real quick." she said with absent mind, already working through mental archives of those lists. She took her cane, and heaved herself into standing. "Oww,"
Once she had limped to her library, she found them quick enough, neatly stored at the lowest level of the living room library. The halfling students of Hogwarts. E, F, and finally there was G - Daphne Greengrass. Agatha sighed, seeing no further information on her nature, as it was the case for most of the students on the list. That would have been too easy. However, this secret was too interesting as well as important to keep hidden.
"What did ya find?" Tonks was in the middle of trying out Styx' latest forays into the Art of pastries. In the middle of chewing down on a chocolate croissant, she saw Fleur and Harry just talking with each other, outside. "Isn't he supposed to… ya know?"
"He is supposed to try to do the most inappropriate things to us, right now, yes. I am trying to find out why he isn't." Agatha put the list back between the literature she had ordered for her lessons. Basic as these books were, she expected no one in this household to even look at them. It was a good hiding spot. "I'll go and investigate." she said, taking another look outside.
"She's going to kill you." Tonks said through a bite of croissant.
"Indeed," she took a deep breath, and limped back out to the beach again. She didn't get far, tough.
"No!" Fleur pointed at her, her expression half between a frown and a smile. "You are supposed to rest."
"How did you…? Nevermind," Agatha waved off. It must have been written all over her face, anyway. "I have a suspicion about what is happening here, but I can't confirm it unless I visit the Greengrasses myself."
"I'll go with you." Fleur stood, her voice leaving absolutely no space for disagreements.
"I have to do this as a Hogwarts official, I don't think…"
"I keep my distance. Close enough, tough. Just in case it goes as usual."
Agatha sighed, knowing she had little chance to win this round. "Very well," she said to Fleur, before turning to Harry. "This may take a while. You're welcome to stay. I'm sure you and Tonks can figure out a use for a beach."
The Greengrasses lived not too far away from Ottery . In fact, Agatha apparated them right beside the Burrow, and took a quick ten minutes broom ride to the small, yet elegant estate. Nestled among a blooming field of all sorts of potion ingredients, was a broad tower; shining white stone atop a pentagon base. The red shingle roof was a tad crooked, and the narrow windows made with dark wooden frames, as high as the rooms within.
Agatha left Fleur at the edge of the field, loosely marking the edge of the property. Close enough for her to observe, not too close to offend. That was the compromise they had found.
She didn't even have to knock. The elegantly decorated door opened, and a witch stood within the frame, awaiting her. Stern eyes, immaculate dress and hair black as coal, it was unmistakably Cassandra Greengrass. Instead of any gesture of welcome, Mrs. Greengrass pulled a deck of cards from her robes, and drew five of them. With a whirl of her wand, she let them hover in a cross before her.
She grabbed them out of the air with a heavy frown on her face, not satisfies by what she has seen on them, apparently. Still, she beckoned Agatha in, and vanished inside, leaving the door open.
Agatha had wondered what a character Sybill Trelawney's sister would be. It seemed the mind of Cassandra was much calmer, and much less patient, than Sybill's.
The insides of Greengrass Tower were as much elegant understatement as the outsides. Wooden panelling on the walls separated oaken floorboard and stone-arch ceilings. The few bits of decoration were always in a group of three, five or seven. When there were mirrors, they were always faced by another mirror, so perfectly aligned that they would forever reflect each other. Agatha held her step, when she saw a fist sized piece of quartz laying in a corner. Better to step around that, lest one frees the trapped evil spirits.
Cassandra waited for her in a cramped office, full of all manners of divination tools and regalia. The lady of the house was busy laying tarot cards in front of her. She slapped them down with growing frustration, again and again. Three cards, an annoyed growl, shuffle and another three.
"Blasted fates," she hissed under her breath. She looked up to Agatha, and offered her a seat at a small chair in front of her desk. "I had hoped my tea was wrong. But the form of horns and the wings of the herald didn't beat around the bush about my visitor today."
Agatha groaned when she sat down, hoping that Cassandra didn't see the tears in her eyes from the pain coming from her thrice broken leg. "Thank you for letting me in, despite your foresight."
"Because of it, Professor." Cassandra leaned back into her chair. "I have witnessed the paths of Fate diverging since you entered your homeland. The bones do not lie, and neither do the cards, oh blessed Death."
"Death, huh?" Agatha listened up. Divination had always been something she was curious about. Her nature and mind disallowed her any talent in it, but she had made knowing about it her business. "Upright or reversed?"
"I despise rigidity. No, you come up as many cards, but always upright. Hanged Man, Emperor, Death." She leaned forward again, and pointed at the last card, the Ace of Swords. "You want to speak to my eldest. But I sensed that you do not begrudge her any choices she has made. You come for clarification on them."
"Indeed," Agatha nodded, fascinated by the woman. There was something so unfathomably calm about diviners, even when they weren't happy with Fate's paths. "A classmate of hers spoke about an odd feeling he cannot shake ever since he talked to your daughter. Now, I had hoped to ask her about it."
"I've sent her away for today. I do not wish for you to talk to her, outside your professional role as Professor."
"Alright, I'll cut to the chase, then. Your daughter is one half human, the other half…?"
"Of course. After the McLaggens, I knew this was but a matter of time." Cassandra glowered at her, and got up from her chair in a huff. "Follow me, Professor."
They walked up the six levels of the tower, until Cassandra stood in front of what must be Daphne's room. Agatha's leg was killing her, but she had weathered worse with less whining.
What seemed like childish decorations on the door at first, were rather complex warding schemes. Agatha's quick glance revealed them all to be sensory in nature. Blocks for sound and smells, and even for magic. No owl nor patronus messenger would be able to enter Daphne Greengrass' room uninvited.
"Where did you send Daphne?" Agatha asked. Because a room like this wasn't something you built for just any child. This was a protection scheme of immense power. Agatha wondered where someone who needed this even could go on their own.
"Dover," Cassandra answered, solemn. "She likes to watch the cliffs."
"To calm herself?"
"Yes," Cassandra whispered, and opened the door.
Agatha let the interior sink in for a while, stunned by what she saw. Every inch of wall was covered with notes and graphs, arithmetic patterns and divination circles. All of them seemed to have one topic, and one topic only. Deciphering and interpreting language. Tables of words with their literal meaning next to the many vague metaphorical meanings were hung next to attempted and failed rituals to divine meaning on the spot. Some words were on posters with the headline "DO NOT SPEAK! DO NOT HEAR!" Words such as "hate" and "need", all circling around a hundred times traced word, "Wish".
Agatha pressed out a heavy breath at the sight. This was worse than some of the cells of truly mad wizards. Like a girl without legs looking for crutches, but for her mind. "Poor girl," she breathed out.
"Brave girl." Cassandra immediately corrected. "Her fate was not her doing, but she accepts it with grace. More grace than most could ever summon in a lifetime."
"Whose doing was her fate, then?" Agatha asked, and could already smell the answer, by the salty aroma of unshed tears that collected in Cassandra's eyes.
"I had to learn grace. From Daphne, I learned what it meant." Cassandra sat down on the fluffy duvet on Daphne's bed. She patted the spot next to her. Agatha gladly took it.
"When Julius and I came together, it was always expected by him that we would have children. Dumb girl, blinded by love, that I was, I never told him that I couldn't." she began her tale, twisting her thumbs and letting the tears fall on her black robes. "I knew my day of reckoning would come, and it was my sister who told me; told me I was walking a path of pain, and no matter what I did, it would end in pain. The only way to escape it, was to stop walking the path, tell Julius the truth and most likely end the relationship. I refused."
"And Fate took that personally." Agatha whispered under her breath, but loud enough for Cassandra to hear.
The diviner chuckled, with a long ago cooled sadness. "Fate is a bitch, that I am truly certain of."
"Ain't that right," Agatha shrugged away all the thoughts of her own bit of bad fate, from the last month and longer. "So, what did you do?"
"I asked for a path to a child, and I found one in the bones of eagles. I travelled to Persia, and very long story short, acquired a trapped jinn in a lamp."
"By acquired, you mean you stole it."
"Yes, Executor. I stole it. From…"
"From another thief. That's how these things always find their way anywhere." Agatha waved off, shaking her head. "So, you wished for a child?" she asked, looking at the big fat word "Wish" on the poster before them.
"Yes," Cassandra bit out. "I should have been more careful with my words. However, as it were, I came home with a child growing in me."
"Daphne is half-jinn, am I hearing this right?"
"Yes," Cassandra breathed out. "She is forever burdened by my lack of foresight. Is it selfish that I wouldn't change this path, even if I could?"
"You're asking the wrong Tiefling." Agatha just gave her a cynical smile. "But I figure she has friends, family, she knows joy; happiness. Safety."
"Do these walls look like happiness to you, Dumbledore?"
"No," she admitted. The walls before her looked like Daphne was in a constant state of mental torture. Agatha wondered how it must feel, to have simple words beckon your magic forth, to do what only half of you was made for. Did it feel the same in her, as it did for Agatha when it came to souls? Either you grant a wish, and diminish your humanity, or you deny a wish, and torture the jinn within? "What can she do? Assume I would wish for a cupcake. Could she summon an edible one?"
"She cannot break Gamp's Law like full jinns, if that is what you're asking." Cassandra answered, also studying the notes and posters of her daughter's room. "But you may find a cupcake finding its way into your hands within a day or so."
"Is that enough, tough?" Agatha mused, speaking more to herself than the lady of the house.
"Enough? Why? For what?" Cassandra listened up. She turned to Agatha. "You haven't really told me yet. What did my little girl do?"
"From what I could gather, your little girl is currently holding the capability to love, literally, of one Harry Potter."
"Potter?!" Cassandra shot up. "That was the classmate she had to urgently speak to in private?"
"Didn't you see that?"
"No! I saw only…argh!" she paused, both hands palming her face. Even though she had lost her composure for a moment, she found back to it quickly. "I saw a path of… The Empress, and… the Four of Wands. It's a path of, well, happiness. How could I deny her that? But had I known she would be involved with Potter… never. That boy is Fate's favourite chew toy, and I cannot have my daughter in that web."
"Well, too late. Daphne has positioned herself right into a plot of forced marriage, murder and other mischief. For someone who prefers calm, she just got into quite the ruckus."
"Delphi take me," Cassandra rubbed the bridge of her nose, warding off an incoming headache. Her other hand shuffled her tarot deck to get the nervous energy out of her. "I thought this was just her trying to date."
"I mean, she holds his heart in her…" Agatha stopped mid-sentence, just as she felt her ears twitch with the sound of badly oiled hinges squeaking, and the light smell of herbs, spices and blooming fields wafting into the room. "...hands." she finished, while scanning the windows of the room. She quickly found the one that was oddly stable in the light wind, even tough it was slightly ajar.
With closer inspection, she soon saw two heads bob up and down outside the window. One was golden blonde, one raven black like Cassandra's. "Back from Dover, so quick?" Agatha shouted at the window, amused by the weak attempt at eavesdropping.
"Daphne! Astoria!" Cassandra bellowed. "Get in here, immediately."
The window opened, and two girls caught in the act flew into the room on their brooms, avoiding their mother's stern gaze as much as they could. Agatha made sure to observe them closely. Astoria, the younger sister, took a stance between Agatha and Daphne without even thinking about it. She felt like the type to kick the shins of people who bother her older sister. Daphne was outwardly calm, but Agatha could smell her growing anxiety.
"What are you doing here?" Cassandra demanded, hands on her hips and a stern frown on her face.
Astoria took a deep, steadying breath and visibly prepared herself to stand up to their mother. However, all air left her, when Daphne spoke up. "I wanted to see what Tracy saw." she said, meeting Agatha's gaze.
"What did she tell you about me?" Agatha asked. Daphne was hard to read, even for her. She must have had a lifetime of practice, and any emotion was quickly brought under control.
"She told me that you saved her from the dryads trying to keep her in the forest. She said you were livid when her…" Daphne took a second to mull over words. Every single one was chosen with the utmost care, which gave the girl a rather neutral and cold way of speaking. "When the woman who gave birth to her, abandoned her. She named you kin. That made me curious about you, Professor."
"That is kind of her to say."
"Is it true, tough?"
Agatha chuckled, "Would you like a feeling or a lecture?"
"How do you feel about her statement?"
"Yes, it is true, in a way. In this world, we are kin by being the Other. Professor Flitwick, Hagrid, Tracy, Layla, me… even you, and many more." Agatha let her words fill the room with the weight she wanted them to have. She watched as Daphne gave her mother a quick glance, maybe to see how much of the cat was already out of the bag. "In fact, and excuse me lecturing a bit, by our nature you are worlds closer to being my kin than Tracy. The Fey is another realm entirely, but jinn and devils? We're practically cousins."
"How do you mean that?"
Agatha gave the wall another quick look, reminding herself what sort of intellect she was talking to. "Figurative, of course. However, I won't deny that my fellow halflings have a special place… now wait," Agatha grinned, having caught herself in the act. "I pay special attention to them. I believe that we must work together, to ensure our survival in this world."
Daphne and her mother exchanged heavy glances, like a silent conversation happening between them. Daphne looked pleading, until Cassandra shrugged with a heavy sigh. "Astoria, my heart, come with me. Daphne would like a word in private with your Professor."
"But you said…" Astoria protested, but was already dragged out of the room by her mother before she could finish.
The silence they left felt freeing, as if an unwelcome audience had left the stage. Agatha let the young half-jinn determine the tempo of this conversation. She just hoped Fleur found something to do in the meantime.
Her gaze once more went over the many posters and tables on the wall. Again she thought of the legless, hoping they would be able to walk if they just had the right crutches. It was an admirable, but futile attempt at keeping the jinn at bay, hidden deep within her.
"You do not approve." Daphne stated.
"What makes you think that?"
"You frown when you look at my notes."
"I frown because I know what you are trying to do here." Agatha pointed to the poster right in front of her, where the word "Wish" still remained like an ever present threat. "It is doomed to fail, eventually."
"It worked so far." Daphne defended herself. She squared her shoulders. "Until recently, I have managed to avoid most troubles in this way."
"Avoidance is not a solution, Daphne. Potter got you by accident. What do you think happens when someone figures out what you can do? What if someone finds out and abuses it?"
Agatha's heart broke for the girl. She stood there, in her own room, as if she was facing a jury. Her hands, one holding the other, carefully pressed against her dress, still trembled like aspen leafs. Her lower lip twitched, suppressing tears as good as she could. Yet, her face remained stoic, with her golden eyes piercing Agatha's bright red ones in defiance. Brave girl, indeed.
"Did you decide to just not talk? Only raise your voice when the people you care about need you to?" Agatha pressed on. "What a shite life."
"Isn't it?" she bit out, and finally her emotions reached her eyes, where tears pooled at the lid, just one tiny push away from flowing freely. "I h- I…"
"Say it." Agatha encouraged. "Be true to yourself."
"I ha… I haa…" Daphne blinked and suddenly her tears flowed freely, down her cheeks where they solidified into golden crystals, and fell to the ground. She rubbed her eyes, violently so, banishing the traitorous tears, just for new ones to betray her yet again. "The last time," she sobbed. "The last time I said the h- word, dad went away. Whenever I talk, I just mess everything up, all the time. I can't even talk to a boy without stealing his ability to love."
"Not that he minds," Agatha shrugged. "You saved him a lot of troubles with your ability. I have a hard time fully describing to you how much trouble you saved him. Come on, hush now." Agatha walked over to Daphne, and collected the crystallized tears from the floor. "Do you know what these are?"
Daphne just nodded, then shook her head. With a shrug, she answered, "Mum says they are Fate. I don't know what that means, and she cannot explain it."
"The tears of full jinn, are the most powerful artefacts imaginable. The power to change reality, fundamentally. In all of history, not just human, jinn tears have been used four times. The first time, humanity longed for a realm after. The Hells and the Heavens were created. The second time, my grandmother created a choice, to allow humanity to know, or reject her."
"Your grandmother?"
"Lilith. Desire manifest. Ambition, Knowledge, Curiosity. Violence, Sin and Damnation. The snake in the garden Eden."
"Oh," Daphne gulped.
"The third time, angels jealous of their mortal cousins, used a tear to bring down the gateway to the heavens, cursing mortals to speak in a thousand ever-changing tongues, never certain of what is and isn't sin, forevermore. The fourth time, someone smart enough to realize the direction of this exercise, made jinns stop crying."
"But," Daphne frowned, looking at the tears Agatha held in her hand, at which point Agatha knew she had her where she needed her.
"Humans still cry." Agatha began, seeing if Daphne would make the connection herself. Still, she elaborated. "One part of you, allows the other part to do the impossible. While your tears won't reform the fabric of the universe, they are tears of jinn. Impossible in their own right, and no doubt powerful, even tough I could not wager a guess as to how."
"They're lucky," Daphne took one from Agatha's hands. While wiping her eyes, she cracked one of the crystals, took one of her shoes off, and without looking, threw it towards the shoe rack, where it perfectly landed amongst her other pairs.
"Oh my," Agatha exclaimed, delighted. Looking down at the remaining seven tears, she giggled at the thought of Daphne crying a crystal form of one of the most complex and difficult potions known to wizardkind. "You cry Felix Felicis." she laughed. Then her smile fell, when she realized that she must hold a small fortune in her hand. "You cry Felix Felicis." she once more said, worry colouring her voice this time.
"I must never let anyone know, mum said."
"Aye," Agatha felt like crying herself, just thinking about the crushing amount of everyday things Daphne could never allow herself to do. "Your mum's right, unfortunately. Thank you, for showing me."
Daphne shrugged, once more trying to dry her eyes. "What is one more shackle?" she whispered.
Agatha couldn't deny the truth of those words. She knew well, herself, how limiting it was to be a hybrid amongst humans. How long had she struggled to speak to people, without them inevitably desiring her beyond reason? Her great advantage, loathe as she was to admit it sometimes, was that her father is Albus Dumbledore. How many hurdles would she have failed at, had he not reached out to his uncountable acquaintances who could help her jump over them?
"What you call shackles, is only a matter of knowing yourself. What you lack, is control." Agatha stated. She moved to an open spot on the floor, right under the window they had flown in from. There, ignoring the searing pain, she got rid of the upper parts of her robes, leaving her in a black tank-top shirt. She needed Daphne to see her skin for what she was about to show her.
She sat down, cross-legged, and offered Daphne a spot in front of her. "A lecture, if you want."
"In control?" Daphne asked, while she mirrored Agatha's pose. Back straight, head high, yet comfortable.
"Indeed. Observe." Agatha softly smiled, remembering her first lecture in control. Under the watchful peaks of the Himalaya, her father had brought her to Yogi Acharya, headmaster of the Halls of Shiva. The man who could calm an Obscurus by use of his aura, was also able to teach her to control the devil within her.
She brought her fists together, took a deep breath in and felt for the power within, as a reflection of the power without. She felt out the primal rage, the destructive lust and agony of desire; the very essence of the devil in the cosmos. "Magic flows, from the infinity of the universe," she began quoting the Yogi." into the infinity within you - your soul, mind, body - in and out in a never ending exchange. It is the thread that connects all, it is all, and it makes all. Follow, Daphne."
Daphne put her fists together, and frowned as knuckles met knuckles.
"Do not fight your feelings. Change to conform and confront them. If the way you hold your hands feels wrong, feel for a different pose that connects your hands. Let your body form its own channels. Do not think. Feel it."
Daphne closed her eyes and held one palm over the other, a few inches apart. She switched a few times, trying out poses and hand gestures, until she connected only her index fingers together. "Like this," she stated.
"Now, let go of your thoughts. Begin to listen. Listen to the sounds around you. Listen to the world; the hums and buzzes, as if it were music. You do not have to understand them. How do they feel as they reach your ear? Just like this, listen to your own thoughts, and let them be noise, colours, emotions. Let go of understanding."
Her own skin began to form black smoke, and her red eyes shone with the fire of the hells, as she herself felt for the devil within. Her own fists, pressing together, came in front of her heart where the Hells met the Mortal, devil and human became one, as all things were one. She took a deep breath, as her body wanted, as it felt right, and fire came from her mouth and nose as she breathed out. She let her breath remain deep, and stable as clockwork. In and out, and every time flames came from her, dancing around her face and up her hair and horns. "What do you feel, Daphne?"
"Nothing?"
"Be true to yourself. What do you feel?"
"I-" she started, but stopped as if cut off. She shimmied, lightly moved her body, and sat up straighter. New tears came rolling down her cheeks, coming together as crystals in her lap. "I'm afraid,"
"Fear is important. It tells us when to be careful. But we cannot let it dictate our lives. If we do, we let it become a prison. Free yourself of it. Feel for the magic you hold within, the one you tried to suppress. Give it room to breathe. Behold." Agatha said, and with another breath let fire stream from her mouth to cover the room, harmlessly dancing along paper and hair, wood and fabric. Because this was her soul's fire, and she could command it. She had control.
Daphne's eyes went wide, as she felt the fire dance over her, and engulf her in a warm embrace. Before her sat a vision of Hell, red glowing veins all coming together in the glistening firepits of Agatha Dumbledore's eyes, all surrounded by black smoke and hellish fire. Yet, it was a calming presence, and the fire a mere gentle touch.
"Embrace what you are. Find where jinn and human become one, within you. If you can do that, you will have made the first step to control." she said, and her voice sounded like steel chains, and echoes of agonized souls. With one last breath, Agatha tightened her grasp on her magic once more, like a well-trained muscle memory. "Do not deny your nature. Whenever people do, they doom themselves. Embrace it, in order to control it."
Daphne focused back onto her own meditation. She closed her eyes, and let herself become still. Once more she changed the position of her hands, into forming a circle with her fingers, through which Agatha could see to her chest; to her heart. The girl's breaths became shallow, almost imperceptible, and so slow that Agatha began to worry a bit.
Then, suddenly, Daphne fell back over with a shout. From the shallow breaths just a moment before, she fell into hyperventilation, shocked gasps and sobs. Agatha shot forward, trying to help her, when the sobs became giggles. Streams of tears still fell down her cheeks, but this time they were of laughter. "I felt it!" she cheered. "I was so shocked, I…" she exclaimed only to fall back onto the floor in relief.
Agatha was reminded how she had felt, the first time she could grasp onto her hellish magic. It was like finally grasping onto the life-saving raft in the stormy ocean. Relief was an understatement for the emotions that had flooded her mind back then. What a rush it had been. It had filled her with a sense of fullness, and rightness. She could only imagine Daphne feeling the same way. "You did well. Keep at it, and you'll soon find that this," Agatha pointed at the posters and tables on the wall, "becomes far less important."
"Can it go away?" Daphne asked, lifting herself up again.
"Never,"
"But,"
"You are what you are. I am what I am. Nothing will change that. Just as part of me is desire manifest, so is part of you a cosmic custodian of dreams. "What if" will not make you happy, nor will avoidance allow you to ignore yourself. Only control and acceptance can keep the promise of your personal salvation." Agatha whispered when she continued. "And only when we accept ourselves, can we hope to fully accept acceptance by others; be loved by others for what we are. I must revisit this lesson every day, and I still forget it often. Never be afraid to ask for help, if you need it to remember to accept yourself."
"If I need help, can I… owl you?"
Agatha pulled a bit of parchment from her discarded robes, and with a flick of her finger, made her floo address appear on it. "I'll do you one better. If you need my help, never hesitate. Halflings gotta stick together."
"The kids are going to be alright." Agatha announced when she crossed the small hill at the edge of the Greengrass estate. Yet, she quickly found that she was talking to no one. "Fleur?"
With a jolt, Fleur suddenly startled up from between the long grass, disoriented and blinking away the traces of a good, long nap.
"Just in case the usual happens, huh? Sleeping on the post? That's a disciplinary action."
Fleur smiled at Agatha through a wild mop of hair, that still somehow managed to look like an advertisement for Sleekeazy's hair products. "Oh, cheri, don't threaten me with a good time." she joked. However, she quickly sobered up, watching the rolling fields of Ottery with serenity. The golden wheat fields, sometimes disrupted by fruit tree orchards and the small forest patches sprinkled over it, invited to sit and just watch the wind play with the riches of the earth. Here and there one could see small estates, all of them inhabited by wizards and witches, who enjoyed the peaceful lives of Britain's most beautiful wizarding farming region.
"I can't count how often I fell asleep in these fields." Agatha remembered. "Bill, Charlie and I used to go hunting for gnomes or pixies, clad in scrappy clothes to get dirty with, and whenever we got tired, we just fell down into the grass."
"It's beautiful," Fleur hummed. "Reminds me of home. These fields are wheat, not wine, of course, but still,"
"You'll have to show me sometime. I only ever tasted the fruits of your home."
"Once papa has whittled down mama, we'll visit." Fleur picked up their broom and came over, joining Agatha on the gravel and dirt path. "He gave us his blessing, you know. While you were asleep."
"I had a feeling like we hit it off," Agatha gladly accepted Fleur's offered shoulder. So propped up, and using her cane, taking a short stroll through the fields seemed like an enjoyable exercise. The soft summer wind made the temperatures just right, and blue skies like these were rare in Britain all year.
They walked down towards a little streamlet with reeds completely covering the water. Some way downstream it would eventually end in the pond next to the Weasley's orchards. The tiny wooden bridge they walked over was more a matter of decoration. A long step did the job of crossing it.
"Harry is going to be alright, you said?" Fleur asked.
"Yes, and it's pretty foolproof as far as I can see."
"What is powerful enough to make you immune against us two and Amortentia?"
Agatha grinned, but shook her head. "I would love to tell you, but I think that would be a breach of trust."
"Aww, please, cheri." Fleur's lower lip shivered slightly, and Agatha swore she somehow made her eyes bigger.
"Your dirty tricks won't work on me. I am a bulwark of willpower."
Fleur leaned closer, came right up to her ear with her lips, and moaned, "Please, cheri."
Agatha's already weak right leg suddenly gave out, almost sending her sprawling over the dirt path. "Lilith, save me," she pressed out. "Bulwark. Willpower. Begone seductress." she laughed.
Fleur gave her a little peck on the cheek, before pulling Agatha up again to once more lean on her shoulder. "I won't pry if it truly is a secret."
"That was 'not prying'? Alright." Agatha made a show of making a mental note.
They continued on their way across the fields, past a small Abraxan pasture with two little fowls flying around. Agatha tried and walk the way back to the Burrow, but eventually her body denied her to move any further. They stopped beneath a large oak, standing alone on top of another hill. On a little bench beneath it, she sat down with a relieved sigh. Her leg was killing her, but the nostalgic scenery was worth it.
"My leg's done. We should apparate from here. I wanted to see if Bill was home, tough."
"He wouldn't be." Fleur quipped.
"And you know that how?"
"No, no. I feel like this would be a breach of trust."
"Fleur," Agatha groaned into her girlfriend's neck. "Pretty please," she breathed out. She could feel Fleur's skin get goosebumps.
"Oh, alright," Fleur intoned dramatically. "During all this excitement the last days I forgot to tell you. Well, it never came up,"
"Now I'm getting worried?"
Fleur laughed. "No need, cheri. All is well." she said, and laid her arms around Agatha. "The reason why Bill is not here - home as you said - is that he lives in Diagon Alley, now."
"Huh?"
"Yes, right between Amanuensis Quill's and Twilfit and Tattings." Fleur bit her lip in mirth, clearly building up to some reveal.
"Prime real estate, no doubt."
"The sort of real estate you can buy with elvish gold. Six flats and a shop, doesn't come cheap."
"I imagine," Agatha grinned too, enjoying the joy she saw in Fleur's expression. "Now, why would Bill need six flats and a shop?"
"The real question, cheri, is why Bill and I would need six flats and a shop."
"No way," Agatha laughed.
"Yes way," Fleur cheered. "If you feel up to it, we could visit Bill today, and we could show you our work?"
"Please tell me there is an alliteration."
"Bill and Fleur's Bewitching Boutique - Artefacts for All. Cursebreaking, enchantment, warding and appraisal services."
"That's a name worthy of a visit."
This time Fleur side-along apparated them back, right onto their beach. They came home to the sight of Harry and Tonks fast asleep in the sun loungers, with Styx in the process of cleaning up what must have been a more than full meal.
"The mistresses return. The mission was successful, this one hopes." they greeted.
"You could say that." Agatha hobbled over to Tonks, grinning at her hair colour changing with her dreams. "I knew they would know what to do with a beach. How long have they been out?"
"One hour, fourteen minutes and twenty seconds." Styx answered.
"That's enough of an afternoon nap, then." Agatha declared, and lightly shook Tonks awake.
"Mhmnooo…" Tonks mumbled.
"I have never seen an Auror as unbothered as Tonks." Agatha shook her again. "Wakey, sleepy."
"Fwive minuu…" Tonks buried her head deeper into the pillows of the lounger. Agatha shook her head at her colleague. Fleur just silently laughed into her hands.
Then Agatha got an evil grin on her face. "Seems like you have to wait, Vox,..."
"Vox?!" Tonks immediately startled awake, and frantically looked around for the succubus. When all she saw was a half-succubi with a mischievous grin, her hair became black, and her eye colour flashed red for a second. "That's playing dirty,"
"I apologize for only letting you sleep one hour while investigating your issue." Agatha deadpanned, and leaned over to wake Harry as well.
Tonks caught her arms, tough. "Oh, oh, oh, let the lad sleep, please. He had a few rough days, and I can't imagine his nights were any better."
"He said something about his mother, before?" Fleur asked while she silently cast a small bubble around Harry that would keep their voices out.
"That was a bloody mess, I tell ya." Tonks wiped the sleep, and stress out of her face. Sunken cheeks, and her hair at best a pastel colour, Tonks looked properly beaten as well. "But who am I telling this to? You had an interesting few days as well, I heard."
"Interesting, sure. I haven't met my dead mother, or found out that my mad aunt inhabits a stolen body, tough." Agatha's intense stare was a bit too much for Tonks, who let her elbows sink to her knees, and hid her face behind a thick mop of long black hair. "How are you doing? Don't lie. I have visual confirmation that you're doing bad."
Looking out to the lake, she answered, "Didn't even think about the implications, yet." she chuckled without humour. "At least it got mum to talk to aunt Cissy again."
"Tonks," Fleur sat down on the other side of her. "I know we don't know each other very well, but if you're hurting… we each have two good ears."
"All I can think about,..." Tonks started, but cut herself off. She sighed, deep and shaking. "I don't know. One day you wake up, the Boy-Who-Lived suddenly is your cousin, your aunt is Lily Potter, and the only guy you want to talk to about it, won't touch you with a ten-foot pole. When you said Vox…"
"I get it," Agatha laid a hand on Tonk's shoulder. "Voxtaran would be a great comfort. Sorry, I baited you with her."
"Would be," Tonks nodded. "But I think we both know we're not summoning a devil, because I feel a tad bit lonely."
"No, we won't." Agatha agreed. "But you also don't need to be alone. You've seen the guest rooms."
"One more won't be a problem for Styx, no?" Fleur added, quickly getting what Agatha was laying out.
"This one finds great satisfaction in providing pastries to Miss Tonks." Styx agreed. "Miss Tonk's appreciation exceeds all others."
"I like your pastries too!" Agatha protested.
"Miss Tonks doesn't like this one's pastries." Styx countered. "Miss Tonks loves them, true and dear."
"You guys," Tonks mumbled weakly, and it was clear for everyone to see that the metamorph was about to get some cracks in her melancholy, with a little twitch of a smile on her face.
"What do you say you stay the night? Take a room here, and get a bit away?" Fleur offered. "We'll have cocktails, play Exploding Snap; anything but thinking about this mess, no?"
"You have to come check out Fleur and Bill's new shop."
"Oh, yes! We could use the opinion of an Auror, regarding the safety enchantments."
"Guys, stop it, or I start sobbin'." Tonks sniffled, but was already smiling, and her hair found back to a sweet rose colour. "But, I guess staying here for a bit couldn't hurt? Your beach is definitely better than my tiny balcony. If you'll have my sorry arse."
"Someone has to watch Agatha while I'm at the shop," Fleur patted Tonk's back. "Make sure she doesn't throw herself into another spell or what have you."
"Will do, ma'am,"
"You offer shelter and company, and all you get is betrayal. Reprehensible." Agatha shook her head, holding her poor heart.
"You'll have a grace period until tomorrow afternoon. The hearings will be held at ten o'clock. Until then, it's all hands on deck to secure the Ministry as good as we possibly can." Tonks wrung her hands, and looked over at Harry, who was still fast asleep, beneath the summer sun.
"By my father's orders, I won't be there." Agatha bemoaned. "But if you need my help; if lives are at stake, call for me. I'll break some laws to be there especially quick."
"Us. Call us." Fleur corrected with a light-hearted glare at Agatha. "I'm not leaving you out of my sight, madame."
"I'll keep it in mind. Although, Mad-Eye seems pretty chipper about his security plan, so you can imagine it's as tight as a sphinx' sphincter."
"Well, we have confirmed that Amortentia won't be an issue." Agatha said with a thumbs up. "Greengrass got this under control."
"If you say so," Tonks shrugged.
"I know so. He'll probably feel once the Amortentia enters his system, but he'll also feel a noticeable lack of effects. I'll have to ask him, afterwards. I'm curious." Agatha took a good look at the teenager before them.
Kinship was something she allowed herself to feel with him. Life was not pulling its punches with Harry, and she knew how those figurative straight hits to the nose felt. Still, he keeps on standing; keeps on fighting with even more vigor. Reason enough to let him rest before the big day. "Coffee anyone? Let's give him another hour in the sun, before we brief him."