CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
"Is this everything?"
"Everything from the time of Nymera's birth until now," Lord Lestrange exhaled sharply, and then scoffed lowly under his breath, shaking his head despondently. "I may not be well versed in the art of Healing, but when one looks at the paperwork, there is clearly something untoward going on."
Harfang Longbottom smiled only smally and chose not to reply. The lawyer had arrived quite early in the morning to collect Nymera's medical history, as per Lord Lestrange's request. Harfang had already been going through the papers, skimming through the most important details. Lord Lestrange had explained his filing system to him while his wife watched in silence.
"Good. Everything seems to be in order," Harfang declared as he closed the files and began packing them into his bag. "I am convening with Alex and Regina later today to discuss a potential plan of attack. Alex requested the late afternoon because it seems he and Regina are executing a plan of their own already."
"Regarding getting their hands on Anne's cooking grimoire," Lady Lestrange spoke up for the first time that morning, sounding rather the worst for wear.
"Indeed," Harfang confirmed with a bow of his head. "I must admit that I have had my own reservations about the potential success of such a venture, considering how suspicious Mistress Anne is by nature, but apparently my wife is willing to lend a hand if things get desperate."
Lord and Lady Lestrange exchanged a look. Callidora Longbottom was a noted apothecary and her skills in Potions had earned her a spot in Hogwarts' prestigious Hippogriff Club in her time. Merlin and Morgana could only know what kind of help Callidora could offer!
"Do you have an idea of what Alex is up to?" Lord Lestrange wanted to know. "I have been trying to get him to divulge something, but he is being as stubborn as always! Perhaps he has told you what he is planning?"
Harfang did know what Alexander Avery was up to – one of his most famous tricks, which was covertly snooping around for any motive in black and white for Anne Underwood to attack Altair Nott. After all, the boy had been the one targeted initially. However because Alex was dealing with the Underwoods and some very tricky people by association, the lawyer could not risk anything getting out so had kept any valuable information between him, Regina and Harfang.
Not even the Lady Hera was getting any updates on the matter. However, given that the girl had enough on her plate, Harfang thought this was perhaps a good thing. He did think about suggesting to Alex to update her guardians eventually.
"I am sorry, sir, but all I know is that Alex is still in the middle of one of his famous plots," Harfang answered half-truthfully.
Lady Lestrange sighed in annoyance. "Of course he is!" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet and beginning to pace up and down. "So we will just have to wait around until Alex decides he has kept us all long enough in suspense. Bloody typical!"
"Rhiannon, darling, I doubt he is doing it deliberately," her husband stated placatingly. "He knows what is at stake."
Lady Lestrange scoffed quietly. "I know. Let us hope Regina can get her hands on that grimoire of Anne's, or is able to find a moment to make a copy of it."
Harfang frowned at this. "Copy?" he repeated incredulously.
"Indeed," Lord Lestrange looked solemn but his eyes flashed rather dangerously. "We got a letter from Rava not too long ago."
This made the Longbottom lawyer straighten immediately. "And what did it say?" he wanted to know, his heart rate spiking a little.
The Lestrange Lord fished into his inner jacket pocket and handed into over to Harfang, who took it and unfolded it with an already furrowed brow.
Dear Lord Lestrange,
I write with tidings that may or may not give you an iota of hope. My Healers and I may have discovered how the Blood Curse has been tampered with, but in order to be able to fully fight the affects as a whole, we need to know the recipe, as it were.
If it is indeed the case that the Blood Curse was created to be able to blend in with the decorations on a cake, then we very likely need that cooking grimoire which contains the spell used. Until we have the make-up of the spell, we are at a dead-end, I am afraid.
We will continue to make the potions for your daughter; we are glad they are having some effect. I wish I had better news to convey to you, sir.
May your enemies always fall at your feet,
Rava,
Head Healer of Gringotts.
Harfang pulled a rather funny face as he began pondering quite deeply. It seemed that, indeed, the entire case rested entirely on that one damn cooking grimoire! Regina's mission now became all the more important.
There was also something else to consider, the Longbottom lawyer quickly realised. They needed to ensure that Anne Underwood didn't get spooked or suspicious enough to try and get rid of the grimoire before they could get to it.
"Stupid question," Harfang stated as he handed the letter back to Lord Lestrange, "do either of you know if Anne had qualms about her sister joining you for afternoon tea on Monday?"
"If she did, Diantha did not mention it," Lady Lestrange replied immediately, frowning a little. "Why?"
"Because we need to be certain that Anne still suspects nothing untoward," Harfang answered easily. "I think you know as well as I do that the young Underwood will do what she needs to in order to try and stay out of Azkaban."
"We know," Lord Lestrange reassured curtly. "As far as we know, we are still in a good position to continue sleuthing."
"Yes, well. I think it would be a prudent idea to – the moment that we even suspect that Anne thinks that her little plot is about to be blown – lie low for a while," Harfang stated darkly. "If we do not, I fear any chance of a confession or getting any further evidence may be robbed from us forever."
"We cannot have that grimoire be burned," Lady Lestrange sounded quite far off at this point.
"And it will not be, my love," Lord Lestrange responded gently.
Harfang took another deep breath before he closed his bag and gathered his cloak. "Forgive me, Francis, Rhiannon, but I am unable to stay much longer. I do have other clients to attend to and I have paperwork to file before one of my cases is going to be brought before a judge."
"Ah, yes! Your little occultist," Lord Lestrange smiled wryly, looking very relieved to have something to smile about for a moment. "I look forward to reading the Prophet about that, Harfang, dear boy."
Harfang rolled his eyes, but could not help smiling momentarily as he left. The lawyer was mostly in his own head, until he walked past the parlour.
"Did Mama cry at any point, Mr. Longbottom?"
The lawyer stopped dead in his tracks and his head turned sharply to see that young Nymera was sitting in a rather big chair, wrapped in blankets and had a book on her lap. She was watching him, unblinkingly.
"Not this time, Mistress Nymera," Harfang found himself saying.
"Oh, well that's an improvement," Nymera commented dryly, turning a page. "She has been crying a lot over the years – then again, she never lets anyone except Papa see her pain. Not even Heron gets to see her cry all that much. Don't know why – my brother isn't an idiot. So, what are you going to do with my medical history?"
The lawyer blinked in surprise. "We're going to make copies, and put them in our case file."
"As evidence?"
"Yes, young miss."
"Good," Nymera smiled at that. "Just don't stress too much, would you? I have enough people worrying about me. Plus, Artemis told me that stress causes things to happen to your heart that isn't pretty. Your wife and children don't need you to drop on the floor, sir."
Harfang had no idea how to verbally answer that. He had heard that Nymera Lestrange was unusually precocious and blunt for a pureblood heiress, but had never experienced it for himself, on the account of her seldom leaving Lestrange Manor. She was also remarkably brave.
Perhaps she would be first Lestrange to be Sorted into Gryffindor?
This thought alone made Harfang smile.
"Thank you, young miss, for the warning," he eventually managed to reply.
"You're welcome. Why is it that, as they grow older, adults actually seem to forget the lessons they themselves were taught about taking care of oneself?" Nymera clicked her tongue and shook her head. "It really is most peculiar."
"Indeed," Harfang agreed, his smile widening.
"Tell me something, Mr. Longbottom. You are a clever man," Nymera continued, turning another page. "Do you think that, even if Rava and her Healers manage to cure me, that I will ever be able to do most things my friends are doing?"
Harfang was rather taken aback by this question. The eleven-year-old raised her eyes to look at him, those Lestrange eyes dead serious. It was a look the lawyer had only seen in Lord Lestrange's eyes when legislation was going to be discussed in the Wizengamot that could make or break certain magical practices. It was disconcerting to say the least to see the same look in the eyes of a child.
The Longbottom lawyer found that he could not countenance lying to her.
"No," he whispered. "I don't."
Nymera smiled sadly. "I don't either. Thank you for being honest with me, sir. Most people would have simply lied to my face." She pulled a face. "If there is one thing I really can't stomach, it's a liar."
The Lestrange heiress went back to her book and Harfang decided it was best at this point to definitely take his leave, and flee back to the confines of his offices in order to throw himself back into his work.
The issue was, Nymera's words still swam around his head for most of the day.
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It had almost been a gift from Merlin and Morgana when Diantha's manager had Fire-Called Regina Avery's office, stating Diantha wanted to speak with her about some legal matters. Regina was a very patient woman and prided herself on being able to handle high-pressure situations very well, especially in a courtroom. However, her prized patience and tolerance were being put to the test by some kind of deity because in an effort to try and obtain the information she needed, she was once again forced to put up with Diantha Underwood.
There was no denying the woman had talent on the screen. But Regina could readily admit that as a person, Diantha was very quickly too much to handle. The actress could talk and talk and talk – more than Melania Black! It was almost impressive how quickly Diantha could switch from one subject to the other. Regina knew she would need an Anti-Headache Draught once she got to her office.
Mrs. Avery had some kind of supernatural being blessing her venture of getting Anne Underwood's cooking grimoire, because she did get a Fire-Call about Diantha Underwood wanting to speak with her on a legal matter. When Regina had gotten there, Diantha had just gotten off a Fire-Call with her manager about something or other and was nattering Regina's ears off as she made coffee. Regina, on her part, was attempting not to let her boredom register.
"-and of course I do not get listened to because the batty man thinks these strange animation movies will become all the rage – I mean, really! I still cannot believe I haven't hired a different manager, but Papa says he is the best. The best at being barmy is indeed what he is," Diantha continued to babble as she poured the tea. The actress mercifully paused for a moment. "Milk and sugar?"
Regina blinked a few times and shook herself out of her stupor. "Hmm? Oh! Yes, please."
"Anyway, I am glad that you could find the time to come and see me," Diantha continued as she put one or two sugars and some milk into Regina's tea. "I have been getting some rather unsavoury letters and comments, about me, mostly, but also concerning my family and my sister."
Regina frowned at hearing this. "Oh? What kind of unsavoury letters and comments?"
"Not the usual, if that is what you're thinking. I can go and fetch them from my study, if you want. I kept them, just in case," Diantha huffed as she walked over to one of her fine sofas and flopped onto it, carefully. "I am used to negative media, Mrs. Avery. I have received it ever since I first stepped onto a stage. I am not one for crying wolf. However, the comments and things that have been said in this case are … unsettling."
"Unsettling?" Regina repeated carefully. "In what way?"
"There are private details in the letters. Photographs," Diantha swallowed audibly. "Photographs of my nephew and niece, whom no one else no exist. I hope I can rely on your discretion regarding that piece of information, Mrs. Avery."
"Of course," Regina reassured immediately, quietly praising herself for managing to keep her countenance neutral and her voice controlled.
"They knew intimate details about my father's business, my uncle's work," Diantha continued. "They also know that Lord Nott spent Yule with Anne and the children … they threatened to take all their information to the Daily Prophet or the Sly Sphinx."
"And what do they want in return?" Regina asked, hardly believing what she was hearing.
The actress started chuckling coldly. "That's where the legal difficulty I am having comes in – nothing. They want me to 'not step a toe out of line'."
Regina blanched. "What?"
"Yes. I have no idea if that means not going to the Hit Wizards with this information, because the messages didn't say I couldn't go to someone about them. So, you see … I have no idea if there is anything that I can legally do to try and stop whoever this is sending me mail," Diantha continued.
Regina sipped her tea thoughtfully, internally deciding on how best to answer this rather unexpected query. Eventually, she gave a truthful answer. "Given we do not know who is doing this to you, there is not much that can be done. The best you can do is make sure your mail is read more closely."
"Yes, I feared as much," Diantha sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I haven't told Anne any of this … she is already in a poor mood. I really don't want to upset her further. I really can't deal with the tantrums."
Regina decided it was best not to give an answer to that.
The actress exhaled sharply. "Thank you for your help, Mrs. Avery. If you wish, you can make one or two copies of cake recipes from Anne's cooking grimoire. It's in the kitchen; the blue bound leather book. It's the least I can do for wasting your valuable time."
The lawyer kept her countenance composed. "Thank you, Miss Underwood. That is very kind."
"Not at all. Just make sure that everything is put back in its proper place. Anne really makes a fuss when she finds something out of place."
Regina really had to force herself not to smile even when her back was turned as she walked towards the beautiful blue leather book, her heart pounding with anticipation all the way. She had no idea if this was part of Alex's plan, but if it wasn't, it meant that someone else had discovered the Underwood secret as well.
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"Still heard nothing from Mr. Horner's office since that letter?"
"Miles, if I did, I wouldn't be in need of a Firewhiskey with my lunch, or feel the need to write a Howler."
"Fair enough," Miles responded grimly as Rollo massaged his temples. The two of them had just left another meeting with some of their returned people, regarding their missions, their findings and, of course, what they experienced while being stuck in their respective countries.
The pair were sitting in the Cursebreakers' lunch room for once, with some strong coffee and three sandwiches each. Katerina, Oscar and Satoshi had all opted to have lunch in their offices because they still had a pile of work to do. Indeed, the Cursebreakers' lunch room had at most around ten people in it, all chatting quietly amongst themselves.
It was as Miles was pouring himself another cuppa that he decided to ask his friend a question that had been on his mind for a while. "Have you noticed anything odd about His Grace and members of the Council lately?"
This took Rollo by surprise, but the Head Cursebreaker kept his countenance controlled. "Nothing more than usual. Why?"
"I just find it odd that they still have not laxed the guard on you," Miles answered candidly, stirring milk and sugar into his coffee. "Plus, they have been calling more and more meetings that have been deemed to be classified. They called Lady Peverell's family here on several separate occasions, and when asked, His Grace and the Council dismissed all the concerns."
"Mostly because the meetings are not regarding Her Ladyship's Cursebreaking," Rollo replied easily.
"They have been keeping you updated?" Miles' eyes widened.
Rollo shook his head. "No, but I have been getting hints from their body language and their tone," he lied smoothly. "If it had been the Lady Hera's future as a Cursebreaker, we would have been notified. Besides, what I do know is that there are more people involved than just Her Ladyship. Whatever it is, it is none of our concern, Miles."
"I suppose. We do have enough to worry about as it is," Miles concurred with a sharp exhale. He chuckled coldly. "I am continuously reminded why I really do not like politicians."
"Understandable," Rollo smiled. "I hope to Merlin, Morgana and all the fairies of Avalon that I do not get called to take my uncle's place as Lord Rowle any time soon. I have half a mind to make my first Patriarchal Decree to make Ophelia and her heirs my heirs and then abdicate. I really do not have the stomach to deal with the Wizengamot on most days."
Miles' eyes widened once more. "Abdicate? Are you mad?"
"Sirius Black II abdicated, and he is in much better health, both mentally and physically, now than he was when he was Lord Black," Rollo pointed out silkily, sipping his coffee. "He was not suited to job; his son was. There is no shame in putting one's health first."
"It was his duty to the realm and the will of the gods," Miles insisted.
"And who dictates that?" Rollo shot back. "I think it is bad enough that admittance to our Wizengamot is dictated by one's blood relations. It is barely justifiable these days!"
"Is it? Because the Wizengamot families permitted to sit are the ones who have kept the interests of our people as well as the country at the forefront of their minds," Miles countered. "That is why those families were chosen – they are the realm's most loyal servants."
"Perhaps that was true once," Rollo conceded, but his eyes darkened. "I am not so sure about that anymore. They are far more preoccupied now with their own selfish and trivial ends; most of them do not have any idea what the average witch or wizard has to endure on a daily basis. Mainly because most of them are Nobles – money and safety are their basic right."
Miles smirked slightly. "And it's coming from one of the Nobles. I think the Wizengamot may indeed be in serious trouble if you ever become Lord Rowle!"
Rollo rolled his eyes at that, scoffing quietly. Miles then switched to a different subject. "Have your family tried to find another suitable Consort for you, or are they leaving you in peace now that you and Henry Burke are courting?"
"My mother has been not-so-subtle in looking at eligible ladies," Rollo answered glumly. "My only consolation is that my aunt and uncle have been leaving me alone on the matter, which tells me enough."
"They approve," Miles translated easily. "Doesn't surprise me – they have always been more preoccupied with trying to get the highest bidder for Ophelia."
"Yes, and apparently the Averys have won," Rollo shook his head in disbelief, clicking his tongue. "I should have hexed that boy when I had the chance."
Miles spluttered. "What? Hex Malum Avery? For what?"
"Kissing my cousin-who-is-practically-a-sister before they were officially courting," Rollo found himself confessing easily.
Miles' jaw dropped instantly; the Cursebreaker started chuckling. "Merlin, I think we are getting old," he commented through laughter. "We are starting to sound just like our fathers and grandfathers."
The Rowle heir snorted.
Miles continued grinning. "When did he kiss her?" he asked eagerly.
"The Malfoy Yule Ball," Rollo was already spilling the beans, so he decided it was too late to back out now.
"No way!" Miles barked out another laugh that made their fellow Cursebreakers look at him strangely. "How did that not make the Court of Britain pages or the gossip columns in Witch Weekly? I mean, you have to give those kids credit when it comes to being discreet."
"Children always find a way to be sneaky," Rollo sighed in exhaustion. "I already dread having to chase behind my own children in the future to make sure they don't get up to too much mischief."
"Good luck with that! No one can truly stop a child from getting up to mischief, no matter how hard one may try," Miles pointed out jovially. "Besides, in your case you may have two extra pair of hands instead of one!"
The Head Cursebreaker was redder than a tomato in seconds. "Thank you for that comment, Miles!"
"What? It's true!" Miles tried his best to look as innocent as possible. It really wasn't working all that well.
"Doesn't mean you have to publicly point that out!"
Miles continued to chuckle away at his friend and boss's embarrassment. He finished the last of his coffee and lunch, then got to his feet. "I had better go and get some work done – I still have a mountain to get through before the day is out."
"Of course. See you later," Rollo smiled smally.
"See you," Miles answered as he left.
Rollo was left in the company of his own thoughts. He wasn't happy that his parents were not letting go of the hunt for a potential Lady Rowle, mainly because he knew they would not keep in mind the lady in question would need to also get along with Henry. That was non-negotiable. Issue was, his parents thought that Rollo's relationship with the strange History professor was some kind of fling.
It wasn't to Rollo, and it didn't seem like it to Henry, either. Furthermore, the pair were now as public as one could get. Any future Lady Rowle would know of their relationship, and have to be very accepting of it to be in contention at all.
The Head Cursebreaker sighed to himself in frustration, finished his own coffee and lunch, and decided to also get back to his office to start on some work before either the goblins came with another request or Grindelwald decided to ruin his day with another mission. Potentially one that had to do with Hera Peverell.
That thought alone made Rollo utterly furious. He still had not forgiven himself for compromising the young Noble woman because of his own stupidity. Ophelia would never forgive him if she ever found out. Rollo had read enough letters and heard enough letters from his cousin to know she loved her strange friend dearly. It was why Lord and Lady Rowle were more tolerant to their daughter learning skills they thought were perhaps too masculine.
Rollo grinned at the memory of seeing his aunt and uncle's flabbergasted faces when they first saw Ophelia throwing daggers and duelling with a sword. It was like they were truly seeing their daughter for the first time in eighteen years. Both of them barely blinked as they had watched Ophelia, as though they were afraid it was a mirage that would disappear before their eyes.
Lord and Lady Rowle got over their shook rather quickly, though, and even showed Ophelia some of the more combat oriented books in the library for her to learn from.
Rollo knew that without the influence of Hera Peverell, Ophelia would never have considered learning the ins and outs of magical and physical combat. He was pretty sure it was the same for the Lady Hera's other friends as well – she had managed to tame the beast that had been Tom Riddle, for Merlin's sake! Through her, Rollo met Henry …
The Rowle heir could barely countenance what could have happened if Hera Peverell had not come back to England and had found her way to Hogwarts.
"Looking a little lost there, Mr. Rowle."
The sound of a familiar voice knocked Rollo's train of thought off its tracks, and the double agent came to a halt. His brow furrowed a little as he looked back over his shoulder. It was a good thing that the corridor he had absentmindedly walked into was abandoned.
Rollo's jaw clenched a little. "I would be more mindful of how you address me, given your current … status, Mr. Ghost."
Ghost stepped out from the shadows of a nearby column, smirking a little. "I was merely making an observation," he replied as innocently as he could manage. The Hit Wizard began smirking slightly. "Troubled conscience, perhaps?"
Rollo read the subtext in a heartbeat. He glowered at the man. "What do you want, Ghost?" he demanded, a lot more coldly this time.
"Meg, Victor and I would like to speak with you," Ghost answered simply, shrugging a little. "We want to know precisely what kind of mission we are assisting with. Meg has told us some parts of it, but Victor and I would like to hear the tale from your own lips."
Rollo was sorely tempted to say no. He had better things to do than to regale the three meddlesome Hit Wizards on one of the most difficult decisions he ever had to make in his life. But at the same time, the one-time Slytherin saw an opportunity to turn the situation to his own advantage. After all, Meg, Ghost and Goliath had not helped them up until now out of the goodness of their hearts.
Perhaps this conversation could change that?
The Rowle heir kept his countenance composed as he raised his eyes to Ghost's. "Very well. But first I would like to know one thing."
"What?" Ghost folded his arms.
"What were you doing in my home?"
The Resistance member had at least the decency to look extremely embarrassed at this point. "I wanted to gather some information on you – information you might be a little reluctant to give. So I put several listening devices around your home."
This made Rollo's heart skip a few beats.
"You bugged me?" Anger flashed in the double agent's eyes for a moment.
"Yes," Ghost readily admitted. "A few of us keep an eye on advancements in Muggle technology and we use that to our advantage. I assumed you have no knowledge of listening devices or what they are, so it was very easy to place them around."
"Are they still there?" Rollo demanded, all civility gone.
Ghost's eyes widened. "No! I removed them after I … overheard you muttering in your sleep. About Henry Burke."
Rollo's eyes were glowing rather dangerously at this point, which made Ghost gulp rather audibly. Ghost only relaxed when the strange platinum hue disappeared from the Rowle heir's eyes and the man continued to glare normally at him.
"Very well," Rollo growled. "Lead the way."
Ghost was not born yesterday; he knew better than to turn his back to a potential hostile person, whether friend or foe. He gestured down the corridor. "After you."
Rollo's lips curled into a small sneer but he headed down the corridor in the direction of the Hit Wizards' 'guest room', his hand close to his wand holster the entire time. The first thing Rollo noted was that there were no guards outside the door. Brilliant; someone was being lax with their duties.
When Ghost and Rollo entered the room, Meg was already sitting on the bed, fumbling with her hands and Goliath was staring out of the window, looking visibly annoyed.
Rollo surmised it probably also had something to do with the Bear Animagus that lurked inside the Druid.
"Thank you for coming, Rollo," Meg was the first to speak as Ghost closed the door behind them.
"Consider me surprised," Goliath added coolly. "I thought you would run like a coward. Again."
Rollo's jaw clenched and his eyes flashed dangerously. Meg glared at her friend. "Victor, shut up," she advised. The Seeress turned to the double agent. "What do you did wasn't easy, Mr. Rowle. Grindelwald is a master manipulator; you didn't stand much of a chance."
"If you know so much already, why do you need me to tell you anything?" Rollo growled.
"Because we want to know the precise thought processes," Ghost answered, leaning against the nearest wall. "The things we have given the goblins – in the wrong hands, they could take down the Resistance. We want to make sure that we are not dealing with a triple agent."
Rollo scoffed.
Goliath glared at him. "It may be amusing to you, Rowle, but we lost several good people to double and triple agents who played us for fools and decided to betray us when the alliances were no longer convenient for them!" the Druid's eyes were bright green at this point. "I lost several family members to such tricks."
Rollo turned to the Druid, staring the muscled man down. "I assure you, the only game I have been playing is the one for the lives of my people at Nurmengard." The double agent swallowed. "We – a large group of us – were sent to find and retrieve the Sphere of Clelia, one of the most powerful Vestal Virgins and sorceresses in Ancient times. It was thought to possess great magical power and Gringotts were tipped off to its location." Rollo took a seat on the rickety wooden chair in front of the desk at this point. "As it turned out, it was a trap. Some of my people tried to hold back Vida Rosier and her team while the rest of us went to find the Sphere. We did – but we were caught and brought back to Nurmengard where Grindelwald … began wooing me over to his side. He made these promises about getting rid of antiquated laws and customs."
Rollo swallowed.
"Sounds like something he would do," Ghost commented. "It's how he lured Queenie Goldstein to his side."
"It nearly won me over," Rollo admitted readily. "It made me more willing to agree to his terms." He swallowed again. "He would send me and half of our people back to England, but fifteen of our people had to remain behind as … reassurance of my cooperation. My people spent an entire evening arguing about who would stay and who would go. Most of our people with families were immediately told to go home, even when they volunteered to stay."
"Merlin," Goliath whispered.
"Once the decision had been made, Grindelwald used a spell to mess with most of their minds. They became reclusive and shunned most company – more than half of them who were married, got divorced," Rollo continued grimly. "A few of them eventually took their own lives under the effects of the spell …"
"Shit," Meg stated bluntly, eyes widening.
Rollo chuckled coldly. "Putting it mildly there, Meg. So you see – if I give up now, if I make a mistake, I will sentence fifteen other innocents to a grizzly fate and, frankly, I would rather drown in my own blood than to lose any more of my Cursebreakers because of my own foolishness."
"You do realise that Grindelwald was never going to simply let you go unscathed, right?" Goliath questioned.
There was a moment of contemplative silence as the Head Cursebreaker's eyes turned sad.
"I should have," Rollo's voice was little more than a whisper. "But I didn't. I thought I had given him exactly what he wanted, and that he was simply going to let us go. Had I known what he would do … I would have tried to bargain for some kind of reassurance."
"So, your troubled conscience struck again when you found the last Peverell?" Ghost pressed.
"You could say that," Rollo scoffed under his breath. "Betraying a child to a madman; no one would ever do something like that quickly. Not unless they were utterly heartless and without compassion."
"And now he knows about Hera Peverell," Meg sighed, her eyes darkening.
"Indeed," Rollo whispered. "I can only hope to whatever deity has mercy in their hearts that Grindelwald does not get his hands on her."
"Or discovers your double agent status," Ghost pointed out.
The Rowle heir smiled coldly. "My own life doesn't matter in this equation."
The three Hit Wizards exchanged a quick look with each other that Rollo did not have time to decipher.
Goliath turned to look at Meg for the first time. "Did you happen to See what Mr. Weird-Eyes is going to do about the Lady Peverell?"
Meg smiled sadly. "The first test is almost prepared," was all she answered with.
Rollo's heart skipped several beats at hearing this and he closed his eyes in resignation. So, the new wave was about to begin … and soon.
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Queenie had once been in awe of Gellert's collection of magical and Muggle artefacts – from art to jewellery to magic mirrors to different staffs. But she walked by magical puzzle after magical puzzle, by several unstudied magical acquisition, the Natural Legilimens would have happily taken out an entire tank division and taken out aeroplanes rather than be in this candle-lit room that had its curtains permanently closed.
As for Gellert, he was browsing his collection as though he was shopping; in a way, he was. Shopping for the ideal method to test the young Lady Peverell to see if she truly did have the powers of he forebears. The Dark Lord had decided to backtrack on letting Queenie choose a test, instead wanting to make sure that the young Peverell got something interesting and challenging. All the while he mulled over his test, the Dark Lord was humming away to the tune of an old Bavarian lullaby Queenie never heard him sing in English.
"We could test her Soul Magic further …" Gellert began muttering to himself soon. "But there is not much fun that can be done, other than putting another person into a Sealing Orb or something. Hmmm … we could send one of the magical pelts from Norway … could be fun to see how well she handles fighting someone she cares about. Maybe for another time. Perhaps we should test her Animancy!"
"Animancy?" Queenie spoke up for the first time in what seemed to be an eternity.
"The art of creating life from the lifeless. Not the same as the dead, mind you. No. Death would never allow his Mistress to mess too much with his domain," Gellert answered, chuckling. "It would be fun to hear about Albus and his fellow teachers having to chase around chimera and pegasi skeletons at Hogwarts!"
"A little too much, don't you think, doll?" Queenie blanched a little at hearing how flippant Gellert sounded.
"Perhaps. But I have no idea how we are going to be able gauge her Death Infusion abilities," Gellert's eyes were shining in the candle light.
This made Queenie's heart skip a few beats. "Death Infusion? The girl knows how to use Death Infusion?"
"Indeed. I am now willing to bet that she used those powers to create a wind infused with death when you chased her in Antwerp," Gellert continued as he browsed through his dark mask collection.
Queenie could hardly believe her ears. "What else is that girl able to do?" she sounded unnaturally quiet, even to herself.
"To be honest, I am not entirely sure the extent of her powers either," Gellert answered candidly. "Which is why we are testing her to begin with." He then stopped for a moment and smiled to himself. "I read once that the Undead do not particularly like Death, or anything associated with him …"
Queenie wisely kept her mouth shut and her opinion to herself, but her eyes widened of their own accord. Gellert headed for an impressive antique cabinet that housed many a-ornate box that were all carved with staves and sigils of origins Queenie could only guess at. He picked out a stunning silver one with a giant sapphire affixed on the top. His eyes were shining with cold calculation.
"Let us see how Lady Hera handles an Undead of old," the Dark Lord stated with a smirk as he handed the box over to Queenie. "Send this to one of our agents. Make sure it gets send to Rollo."
The General took the box with a heavy heart and curtseyed. Queenie dreaded to think what kind of Undead was locked inside the box. Whoever it was, or whatever it was, it was very likely to affect everyone – not just the girl. Queenie could only thank Hekate that Newt and Teenie were living in Wales at the moment. Far away from everything.
The Natural Legilimens soon heard whispers of a mind in her head.
"Vida, darlin', you know sneaking up does not work on me," Queenie teased with a small grin.
"I got pretty close. You were too preoccupied to notice, it seems," Vida answered, falling into step with her friend. The Rosier witch eyed the box with a solemn look. "Our Lord has made his selection then?"
"Indeed," Queenie confirmed, keeping her tone neutral. "Somethin' about an Undead."
Vida's eyes widened. "Trapped in there? How?"
"Must have somethin' to do with all these sigils," Queenie gestured with her head to the decoration. "Honestly, I did not dare ask."
"Good. We need to keep Gellert in a good mood," Vida stated.
Queenie hummed in agreement and then frowned. "Where is Credence?"
"Talking with that precious snake of his," Vida commented with a cold smile. "I have no idea why Gellert chooses to keep her alive, or why Credence is still hung up on their friendship. He betrayed her; Nagini fought against Gellert and got captured. She should have been turned into a nice pair of boots, in my opinion."
Queenie gave her friend a pointed look. "She was once human, V."
"Now, she is just a useless snake," Vida shot back.
"Not in her mind, she ain't," Queenie answered back easily, a little triumphant that she now had one over on Vida. "She's like that wyvern that guards Castle Argenthall. Beast in form, but human in mind. Now, if they decide to lose the human aspect of themselves, that's another story."
Her friend scowled. "I still don't get why Credence thinks Nagini wants to ever see him again. She made her sentiments abundantly clear when we first locked her up. It's just pathetic."
"Everyone needs hope," Queenie stated coolly. "Even if it seems all hopeless."
#########################################################################
Athenaïs was still in mourning for the rest of the day following Mr. Ogden's sudden death. The usual cheerful and jovial Gargouille had an air of solemness that no one who was acquainted with her was used to seeing. Seraphina, Sigyn and Frey, especially, found it deeply concerning.
As for Harry, she had spent most of the morning before breakfast training with Artemis and Minerva in the Room of Requirement to blow off some steam. The three met up with Loreley and Orion, who had the same idea. Most of the training session was spent refining their close combat skills, and then a little on dagger throwing and archery. Artemis' aim with her crossbow had improved leaps and bounds, and Orion – who had used Druella's bow a couple of times with her permission – had picked up the skill quite quickly. He had been close to bull's eye at least twice. Athenaïs had watched them quietly.
The five of them had lost track of time, making them slightly late for breakfast. They had quickly changed into their uniforms before forcing themselves to join the rest of their friends at the Gryffindor table. Artemis glared coldly at Felix before slicing into an apple. Orion was overtly quiet, preferring the company of a book. Loreley actually had a sneer on her lips! As for Harry, she flat out refused to acknowledge Felix and avoided eye contact of the others, much to the hurt of her friends and loved ones.
The Weasleys had picked up on the coldness immediately. "Did something-"
"-happen that-"
"-we need to know-"
"-about?" they questioned, eyes wide.
"You could say that," Artemis agreed with a sneer.
"What is it?" Ignatius wanted to know. He, Tessa and Billy were regarding the five of them as though they were unexploded bombs that could go boom at any given second.
It had been at this precise moment that Headmaster Dippet had stepped up to his podium with a very solemn look on his face, conspicuously dressed all in black. Now that the students thought about it, everyone – Dumbledore included – was dressed completely in black. Professor Chattox even had a veil over her face.
The Headmaster cleared his throat. "Good morning everyone. I regret that I have to inform all of you of some sad tidings. Last night, our groundskeeper Mr. Patrick Ogden passed away very suddenly after suffering a heart attack. He was discovered by a familiar and four of our students."
There was stunned silence all around. A look of realisation spread onto the faces of the Weasleys and the Prewetts. The Headmaster continued. "There will be service for him on Sunday; any who wish to attend may do so. The service will be conducted in Kelpie's Hollow, his wife Maggie's old home. Until a successor can be found, all of Mr. Ogden's duties will be performed by the caretaker." Headmaster Dippet swallowed and had to close his eyes for a moment. "I would like to see Hera Evans, Orion Black, Artemis Potter and Loreley Malfoy in my office second period. That will be all."
"Oh shit," Billy voiced almost immediately, eyes wide. "You were there. You watched him die."
"What of it?" Artemis answered coldly, causing Billy to flinch a little at the harshness.
Tessa frowned. "There is no need for that tone, Artemis."
"Yeah, it wasn't like a teacher died," Mallory thought it was a good idea to put in. "It was just the bloody groundskeeper. They'll just find some other peasant-"
Mallory soon found himself struggling to breathe, let alone speak. Harry's eyes were pure silver and her hands were curling very slowly into a ball as she telekinetically began to suffocate him. Artemis and Loreley smirked; both girls too had their wands drawn.
"Harry, stop!" Ophelia begged as the Hufflepuff began to thrash.
"Unless you want to kill him with more than one hundred witnesses," Druella added coolly.
The Mistress of Death regarded her friends with a colder look than she had ever given them before complying. While Mallory heaved for air, Harry rose to her feet, gathered her things and left the Great Hall without so much as saying a word. She was still vibrating with anger; the crystal jugs all shook as she walked by them. People could see the lightning practically coming off her hands and hair.
Artemis, Loreley, Orion and Minerva followed Harry out of the Great Hall and to their respective first lessons. Loreley soon met up with Harry for their lesson; History of Magic. The Malfoy Seeress smiled sadly as she caught up with the Mistress of Death, who was sitting outside Binn's classroom, eyes glistening with tears and sitting on the floor.
"Why are they like this?" Loreley heard her friend whisper. "Why do they not see that a life, even one of a groundskeeper, has worth?"
"Because most of them haven't been through what you have," Loreley answered quietly as she joined her friend on the floor. "You have seen death – looked him literally in the face. You know how precious the gift of Lanais is. The others … either don't have your compassion or your life experience."
The first tears began to flow from Harry's verdant eyes. "I thought I was making headway with them. It looks like I was just naïve, as usual."
Loreley knew what Harry was referring to immediately and she frowned deeply. "Harry, they have changed beyond recognition! All of their Tapestries have changed-"
"They don't care," Harry cut across quietly. "They just don't care."
Loreley's expression softened. "They didn't know him like we did. Like Atty did. You can't blame them for that. The way they reacted – that's unacceptable. Felix should especially not have insulted Atty."
More tears flowed down Harry's face; Loreley conjured a hanky and began trying to wipe them away. "He almost died alone … no one should have to die alone."
This made Loreley close her eyes for a moment and resist the urge to start crying also. It had been her fear as well. "But he didn't. Atty was there; you were there. You saw him off. I know that meant the world to him."
It was something in this statement that made Harry suddenly turn her head to look at Loreley, those peridot eyes an ugly moss colour with grief and anger. "You knew this would happen, didn't you? It's why you gave him a Yule present!"
The Malfoy Seeress's saffron eyes slackened under the weight of guilt. All she could do was nod in affirmation.
Loreley braced herself for an outburst. She wouldn't have blamed Harry for striking her with lightning at this point. But all she heard was more sniffling and the shadows around her grow colder than before.
"You should have told me …" Harry whispered through her tears. "I would have given him something too … you should have told me!"
"I know," Loreley agreed readily. "I wanted to, desperately. But I don't always know for certain what I can tell you, and what I can't. The Weavers are annoyingly cryptic half the time! I have no idea how pertinent this death is to you or Atty or any of us and because of the uncertainty, I kept my mouth shut. I admit that I gave him that present mostly out of my own guilt. I regret not telling you. You have to believe me."
There was a short moment of contemplative silence; Harry sniffed quite loudly and then blew her nose into Loreley's hankey.
"I do believe you," Harry reassured once she had enough breath in her to speak. "I do fear what this has done to Atty, though."
"She needs time," Loreley stated with a sharp exhale. "She lost a friend."
"Yeah," Harry whispered. "Will you come to the funeral with us?"
"Obviously," Loreley answered easily. "You didn't need to ask."
"I know. Sorry."
Loreley smiled sadly and put an arm around Harry, pulling her friend closer to her. The Traveller put her head on her shoulder without hesitation.
"Do you know who will be Mr. Ogden's successor?" Harry whispered.
"I think you know exactly who it will be," came Loreley's answer, not missing a beat.
They stayed there in silence for a good three minutes, perhaps more, before the rest of the class arrived. While the Ravenclaws barely paid the two girls attention – not wanting to interfere where they were not wanted – Harry's friends knew that their state was their fault.
"I am sorry I was not there to support you, or stuck up for you when I should have," Druella was the first to speak up. "Unlike Wally – she, Ophelia and Ygraine gave us all a right good scolding."
Walburga smirked, looking very pleased with herself. "They deserved it."
This made a sliver of a smile appear on Harry's face but that quickly disappeared. "It's not me you should apologise to. You need to apologise to Atty," Harry stated matter-of-factly. She raised her moss eyes to look at Felix for the first time during the day. "Especially you."
The Mulciber heir was scowling and clenching his jaws but he was silenced by the glares from Tom, Altair, Caius and Malum. Heron and Abraxas were regarding him just as coldly. Loreley and Harry fished themselves off the floor just as the classroom door creaked open.
Professor Binns was covering some of the Magical Mischief subjects that Harry had covered with her History Revision class, so the ghost teacher was fortunately distracted with ample pickings when it came to students who wanted to contribute to a specific debate. It gave the Lady Regnant of House Peverell a moment to take a step back and watch if her work and strategy paid off.
Given that Professor Binns only had to correct one or two points given by Arcturus and one of the Ravenclaws, Harry decided it went rather well.
As soon as the bell rang, Harry and Loreley gathered their things and headed towards the Headmaster's Tower for the meeting with Dippet. What it was about, they could only guess, but the pair did have some very good suspicions.
They met Orion, who had come from Ancient Runes, met them outside the gargoyle statue in front of the entrance. Artemis, who had come running from Care of Magical Creatures, met them about five minutes later, running at full speed.
"I am going to get a scolding from Harrow later, holy Freya," Artemis commented the moment she skidded to a halt. "True, I might have knocked down a bunch of ickle little firsties and second years but still! They were in my way."
"Oh, Artemis," Minerva rolled her eyes. She took a fortifying breath. "Let's go and see what the Headmaster wants to discuss with us."
"The events that happened – including when we found Mr. Ogden," Loreley answered in her usual whimsical tone.
"I think so too," Orion agreed as the gargoyle stepped aside to let them into the Headmaster's office.
Dippet was waiting for them, already seated behind his desk, smiling sadly at them in greeting. "Thank you for coming, children. I realise that the last thing you want is to be kept from your second periods, given your exams are a few months away, but I just wanted to check in with you. Take a seat and do not be shy to help yourselves to tea."
The students took him up on that offer immediately. The Headmaster continued. "I realise what you witnessed yesterday was a nasty shock to the system and even though one of you may have had more than enough experience with death, it's still … unpleasant to witness."
None of the seventh years said anything; they simply sipped their tea. That was enough answer for Dippet. The three-hundred-year-old wizard sighed. "I wanted to tell you that if you need some time to process, you can take it. If you prefer to self-study for the rest of the week, you have my permission to do so. My office is also open to you to have a chat about … how you are processing this. Which brings me to you, Miss Evans."
Harry raised her head with a small frown. Dippet continued to look at her kindly but with a hint of concern. "I understand you struggle with emotions and keeping your volatile magic in check more than the average young Gifted one, but strangling another student is not the answer to your problems."
Harry flushed red. "No, sir," she agreed quietly.
"You understand that I simply cannot condone that behaviour?" the Headmaster continued.
"Yes, sir," she answered obediently.
"Good, because I am setting you an essay to write on various calming techniques one can use to help with volatile emotions and magic," Dippet stated. He fished out a small piece of paper. "You will use some of the books on Mind Magics in the Restricted Section – here is a permission slip for them. I want the essay on my desk by Saturday, if you please."
The Traveller gulped. "Yes, sir."
Dippet beamed at her and then turned waved his hand to turn on his gramophone. "Now we have that unpleasantness out of the way, let's enjoy our tea and listen to some music. I am assuming you all like Celestina Warbeck?"
###########################################################################
Altair spent most of the day as he had done the evening before: kicking himself for not only being understanding of Harry's feelings regarding Mr. Ogden's death, but also for being near dismissive of Athenaïs' grief. True, Altair did not know Athenaïs was friends with the groundskeeper but he also knew that it wasn't a sufficient excuse for his insensitivity. Tom had been equally contrite and regretful for not being sympathetic for Atty's sake; less than Altair, but that did not surprise the latter at all.
Tom still struggled with his emotions, and those of others. That was not just going to go away.
It also didn't help that Altair had passed one of the worst nights in a while. He could have sworn that some of the dreams he witnessed were not his own and when he was finally awake, it was like he could feel almost every single magical presence in the castle.
In order to try and ignore the guilt and the pain he felt, as well as the new heightened senses that he didn't understand, Altair threw himself into translating the spells he got from Cymede and Jason. The Nott heir barely paid attention in his lessons; he mostly tried to sit in the back, away from the teachers' watchful eyes, and then hid himself away in the library during most of his free periods. Even during his Herbology session with Percy for the seventh years, focusing on plants and ingredients covered in their dissertations, Altair was mostly preoccupied with his translating.
Not that Rhona seemed to care; she loved taking the lead.
Harry did care. Her dissertation draft was left practically forgotten, as were her open books, in favour of watching her lover work, with a look of concern and guilt. The Traveller knew she had snapped at him and had been unnecessarily hostile to both him and Tom, but had been too caught up in her own grief to differentiate the ones who deserved her wrath and the ones who didn't.
Altair could feel his future Consort's eyes on him, but forced himself to continue working – not only was he so close to translating the spells, but he didn't want to risk seeing those verdant eyes look haunted. It would make his heart break even further. The Nott heir did permit himself to grin, because by the end of the Revision Club, he had finished the translations.
Without thinking, Altair rushed over to Harry, Heron and Loreley to show them as the class packed up their stuff and left. "Harry, Heron, Loreley – I did it! Look, look, this spell is a really complex Alarm Charm and this one is what I now call the Galvanic Spell. Basically, it's the blueprint to the creation of another Cymede or Jason and it's insanely complex but genius!"
"Merlin, we have a second Orion," Heron commented with a laugh.
"Hey, I am the one who spent an insane amount of time on translating these spells! I get to be excited!" Altair protested with a lopsided grin. "Plus, I am one of the first to know about this – it is a genuine historical discovery! Not many people get to claim that they were part of one."
Harry smiled warmly at him. "Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate this, a lot."
"It was my pleasure," Altair reassured, beaming. "Bloody frustrating, but a pleasure nonetheless."
Heron and Loreley got to their feet.
"Are you two coming?" Loreley asked sweetly, though her eyes were dancing with a knowing look.
"Actually, I was wondering if I could speak to Harry privately," Altair smiled smally.
Harry looked extremely surprised at how polite her lover was in requesting a moment of her time. Heron was equally taken aback, but Loreley's smile grew.
"Of course. Take as much time as you need," she reassured and gestured to Heron with her head towards the door. "Come on, Lestrange. Let's get some lunch before all the good options are gone."
Heron nodded curtly and followed the Malfoy Heiress out of the Room of Requirement, leaving Altair and Harry alone in the Herbology section of the mini school. Very quickly, the classrooms around them began to melt away and were replaced by Harry's training room. This made the Traveller's brow furrow a little.
"I am sorry."
The statement caught Harry off-guard and she turned very quickly to look at Altair. Altair continued before she could question what he was referring to. "I should have been there for you and Atty, no matter what foolish opinions I had regarding Mr. Ogden, and when I see her, I am going to apologise to Atty."
A small smile spread onto Harry's countenance. "Thank you, sweetheart. I know Atty will appreciate it."
Altair swallowed a little. "I do want to know something – and please don't get too angry with me. I am just trying to understand something."
Harry cocked her head slightly. "Go on," she encouraged.
Altair gathered up all his courage. "I know he was Atty's friend and that you, Artemis, Orion and Loreley visited him, but … why did you react so quickly when you ran out of the party? And today – you strangled Mallory in public. Strangled him." Altair gulped but continued. "Your anger … it scared me, but I know there is a reason behind it."
The Mistress of Death's verdant eyes danced with regret. "Yeah," she whispered. "I should not have done that. Headmaster Dippet is already making me write an essay on calming methods that I can use to try and keep my temper the next time." Harry scoffed. "I was no better than the Dark Lord …"
"Don't even think that!" Altair countered sharply, eyes blazing. "You are nothing like that maniac!"
"I sometimes wondered in the past if that is true," Harry replied sadly, her beloved godfather's words beginning to dance around her head. "Uncle Sirius once told me that the world is not split into good people and evil people. We have both light and dark inside of us, and what matters, is the part we choose to act on."
"Your Uncle Sirius was a wise man," Altair agreed readily with his usual bright smile.
"Yes, but … more and more, I alternate between light and dark," Harry admitted, swallowing. She began fumbling nervously with her courtship ring. "My dark side isn't pretty and it scares the crap out of me, mainly because of how … similar it feels to his hatred for Muggles."
"But you have it in control," Altair pointed out. "You just dip into it now and again, and you just have to make sure you don't end up drowning in it."
"Yeah," Harry whispered. "As for why I reacted in such a way … it makes me angry how flippant some of you are when it comes to lives of others. Especially those you somehow are 'lower' than you are." She scoffed. "As though Mr. Ogden's profession somehow means he is less worthy of mourning because he's the groundskeeper! Without him, the Thestrals and other creatures would be living in unliveable conditions and Professor Griffith's mandrakes would be eaten by Dugbogs!"
"I know," Altair stated quietly, hanging his head in shame.
"Mr. Ogden knew who I was because he figured it out quite quickly and he never treated me any differently," Harry continued. "Atty and her friends hunted in his pumpkin patch and he loved it. He loved to have company over for tea. Atty told me he and his wife tried for children for many years, but they never succeeded. Then they lost their familiar, Bertie."
Altair's eyes closed at this point, regret deepening.
"None of you ever stopped to think he was a person, did you?" Harry grimaced internally at how accusatory she sounded.
"No, not as much as we perhaps should have," Altair readily confessed. "Not as much as you."
"I got a vision of his death," Harry admitted bluntly, which caused Altair's eyes to open sharply and he looked her dead in the eyes, his hazel ones wide. "I knew he was going to die, but I didn't know Atty was there. I thought the man was going to die alone. That's why I was running. I was trying to make it in time to be there for him. No one deserves to die alone, Altair. No one."
"Oh Harry," Altair's voice was little more than a whisper. He had his hands in his hands and then covering his face, shaking his head. He lifted his head out of his hands after a few seconds, looking angry. "My darling Sun … why didn't I think of that?! You're the damn Mistress of Death, for Merlin's sake! How could I be that stupid?"
Without thinking, Altair embraced his lover close; Harry returned the hug immediately, pulling him closer.
"It was worse for Atty. She somehow sensed this would happen," Harry continued. "It was why she was visiting him more and more. Atty tried to save him – but it was his time. There was nothing she could do, and it hit her hard."
"No shit!" Altair chuckled coldly as he let her go. "Your visions … you get them often."
"Day and night, but I can stop most of the day ones," Harry replied and then smiled sheepishly. "They were the basis of my Fainting Sickness. Because I know Occlumency, I can basically decide if I want to see the visions."
Altair's eyes widened. "Oh Morgana … that makes so much sense! Wait a minute …" he fixed her with an unblinking gaze. "That day we were studying Amortentia … did you deliberately lower your Occlumency barriers to ensure Tom wouldn't have to go near it?"
Harry smirked. "You are too sharp for your own good at times, my love."
Altair gaped at her, eyes bugging out of his sockets. "You …! You idiot! You utterly selfless, magical moron!"
"I love you too," Harry answered sassily.
"Does he know?" Altair demanded, shaking his head despondently.
"No," the Mistress of Death readily answered. "I never told him. Loreley and Abraxas do know, because they figured it out, much like you."
"Yes, no doubt using that sixth sense of theirs," Altair grumbled. He scoffed lightly. "You need to tell him."
"I suppose so. I just don't know how," Harry exhaled sharply, chuckling nervously.
The Nott heir regarded her for a moment before his eyes turned to look at the swords in their racks, ready for use. He smiled to himself and then turned to Harry with mischief dancing in his hazel eyes. "Up for a bout, my Lady?"
Harry followed his line of sight to the swords and smirked. "Of course."
The pair discarded their blazers, put the protective gauntlets on that the Room provided and then summoned a sword each. The lovers squared up in the middle of the arena, swords touching and eyes on each other unblinkingly.
Altair was the first to attack; Harry parried and made a counter attack swiftly. Her beloved opponent gauged her attack and parried her counter, with a small grin, before making three quick, skilful attacks. The Mistress of Death deftly kept up, so the Nott Heir decided to turn the duel up a notch.
He drew his wand and cast a nonverbal Draconifors and then Oppugno.
Seeing the tiny, fire breathing dragons heading her way, Harry's eyes widened momentarily but speedily cast several Banishing Spells. Her sword soon clashed with Altair's again, sending gold and silver sparks flying. The pair parted for a moment but still circled each other like duelling lions.
"You've improved, dear," Harry commented jovially.
"I should hope so. I have had some very good teachers," Altair answered, smirking.
"Well, let's see if you remembered all their lessons," Harry stating teasingly, her eyes flashing silver.
A second later, the Protego diabolica formed around the Mistress of Death and some of the fire formed themselves into three Thestrals, who leapt towards Altair. The Nott heir got over his momentary shock very quickly and sent several water torrents towards the Thestrals. The fiery creatures dodged his attacks and continued galloping in his direction. Altair went on the defensive – he combined several Shield Charms with his water spells, creating a wall of water between him and the creatures.
The Thestrals dissipated as soon as they made contact with the water wall, causing the Room of Requirement to be filled with a descent amount of steam. Altair, coughing and squinting, waved his wand and banished as much of the steam as he could, only to find that Harry had disappeared.
The Nott heir tensed in anticipation and began to look about him very carefully, keeping his wand and sword at the ready. He could sense Harry in the Room, but could not directly pinpoint where she was. Altair kept a sharp ear out for any sound that could give away where his demi-immortal lover was lurking, keeping as much on the move as possible.
However, he must have left an opening somewhere because Altair soon found himself being tackled from the left hand side, wand and sword flying backwards out of his wand as he was being pinned to the ground by a massive Grim, who was grinning toothily in triumph, eyes shining with amusement.
"Not fair, Harry!" Altair commented through laughter.
The Shadows unravelled themselves around the Mistress of Death, who continued to grin. "As I said to Tom once, sometimes fair is for fools."
"Agreed," Altair concurred readily.
The Nott Heir promptly captured his future Consort's lips in a passionate kiss. She answered emphatically, her grip on his hands loosening quite quickly. Altair freed his hands, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer as he continued to plunder her mouth. He moaned with contentment as Harry began running her hands through his hair and gripping him. Harry moaned with protest as he stopped kissing her lips, but it turned to pleasure as Altair gently kissed the sensitive areas of her neck.
Before the pair could get too carried away, however, there was a "Kkkyyyyuoo!" and soon both Altair and Harry found themselves on their back, laughing as Athenaïs chirped at them in a mock scolding manner.
"Atty really outdid herself that time. I would have thought you heard her coming."
Altair and Harry sat up to see Tom grinning lopsidedly at them, those lapis lazuli eyes dark with desire.
"Tom. When did you get here?" Harry asked curiously as she and Altair fished themselves off the floor.
"Not too long ago. I bumped into Atty on the way and we got talking," Tom answered, smiling a little awkwardly as he joined them. "I apologised to her about yesterday and we talked about everything and nothing until we got here. We came in just as Altair got tackled by a Grim."
"I need to get better at sensing Harry's presence," Altair stated with a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his head.
"Indeed. But I doubt I would have done better," Tom replied solemnly. He then looked at Harry. "I also apologise to you, my love, for not being as supportive as I should have been yesterday."
"Thank you, darling," Harry answered quietly.
Tom cupped her cheek and planted a loving, longing kiss on her lips. Harry returned it immediately, eyes closed. Her lover rested his forehead against hers. "I will never truly understand your capacity for compassion for others, but I promise to do better."
"It's all I can ask," Harry replied with a small smile.
Kkkyyyyuoo!
"Ah, yes, lunch!" Harry laughed. "Thank you, Atty."
"Yes, let's see if we can still get our hands on something," Altair agreed as the triad and the Gargouille left the Room of Requirement together. "If not, let's see if the elves can spare a muffin or something."
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Loreley found herself rarely caught off-guard; because of her Sight, there was seldom a decision or event in someone pertinent life that she did not known about. However, that evening, while teaching Athenaïs some more Arithmancy in an effort to help the young dragon cope with her grief, something happened that Loreley had not Seen coming.
She heard the door to the Astronomy Tower open – this was odd, because the Astronomy lesson would not be happening for a few more hours yet. The person who was coming up the stairs also didn't find there was any need to announce who they were. Loreley frowned slightly and kept her saffron eyes on the stairs, tensing slightly. Her draconic student looked away from her book for a moment to look at the stairs as well.
Very soon, up the stairs came Ophelia Rowle. Immediately, Loreley straightened, especially when she saw the exhaustion and frustration in the Rowle girl's eyes. The Malfoy heiress smiled as serenely as she could.
"Hello, Ophelia. A fine evening, is it not?" she asked lightly.
"It's a little cold to be up here," Ophelia answered coolly.
"I suppose. Then, what brings you up here?" Loreley wanted to know.
"I want to know what has been going on between you and Harry," Ophelia responded bluntly. "Because almost from the moment that the two of you met, you have been acting … weirdly. You look at her as though you have … I don't know, known her in another life, and she looks at you as though you are some kind of life line to her."
Athenaïs looked at Loreley knowingly; the Malfoy Seeress kept her eyes on the Rowle heiress.
Ophelia continued. "Even today, you got through to her when no one else could, and you know things before they seem to happen! You somehow knew about my research and you knew when Malum would call. You know Quidditch outcomes …"
Realisation seemed to fully hit Ophelia at what she was hinting at, because her eyes were now bugging out completely. Loreley simply continued to smile, only this time sadly.
"Oh Merlin and Morgana … you know everything about her already, don't you?" Ophelia whispered.
"No one truly can know everything," Loreley responded mystically. "I simply See; I do not know."
Ophelia's breath hitched. "Did you See … her past?"
"I Saw enough," was all the answer Ophelia needed.
The Rowle heiress nodded despondently and turned to look out over the Black Lake for a moment before turning back to Loreley. "You said my instincts are not crazy – that I should trust them."
"I did."
"I was researching Travellers, Loreley. Travellers," Ophelia began pacing. "How can you sit there and tell me to trust my instincts when every rational part of me is telling me that I am being ridiculous?"
"Because you're not being ridiculous," Loreley answered easily. "Out of everyone, your instincts are the sharpest. For now."
This made Ophelia halt and look at Loreley with widened eyes. "Are you telling me … that Harry … is …"
Loreley smiled sadly. "You already know the answer, Ophelia. You just cannot get your head around it."
The Rowle heiress paled. She lowered herself down on her knees, her breath shaking quite madly. She was also shaking quite visibly, judging by the trembling of her hands. Atty chirped a little in concern. Loreley could sense what Atty could as well – Ophelia was close to a panic attack. It seemed that Ophelia realised it herself, as she closed her eyes and began focusing on calming her breathing.
There was a tense silence for around two minutes where Ophelia stared at the ground; finally she looked to Loreley. "All I want to know is this: what time period is she from?"
The Malfoy Seeress smiled smally. "1997."
Ophelia gasped softly, but composed herself quite quickly, nodding despondently. "OK …" she whispered. "OK…"
A conflicted look once more carved itself onto Ophelia's countenance as the Rowle heiress shakily got to her feet. Loreley already knew Ophelia was mentally preparing to guard this memory behind some sturdy Occlumency shields as she watched the girl leave. Atty watched her Witch's friend with a frown of concern.
The Seeress smiled. "Don't worry, Athenaïs. Everything will be all right in the end."
The Gargouille looked at her friend with a hopeful look before she turned back to her Arithmancy equations. Loreley turned her eyes to the sky at this point and scoffed quietly to herself.
She really did hate the Moirai and their games sometimes.
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Harry's hired lawyers are well underway to gathering the evidence they need to build a case against Anne Underwood. Will Lord Nott's mistress continue to be unaware of what is going on or will she start to have suspicions? The first test for Harry's powers has been decided by Grindelwald! How will she be able to handle whatever Undead is inside that box? And what is going on with Altair? Plus, Ophelia knows the truth about Harry's second mythical status! How will this guide her actions? Stay tuned to find out.
As usual, I do not own the world and the characters; I am just building a sand castle in JK's sandbox!
Orion: Oh Merlin so much is happening! Bloody Gellert and his freaky Dark artefact collection.
Gellert: A little rich coming from a Black there, boy!
Tom: He unfortunately has a point there.
Orion: I am not the one sending an Undead to your girl, Tom!
Tom: Oh I know. Which is why I have replaced his chocolate chip cookies with raisin ones.
Gellert: YOU DID WHAT?!
Oh boy … we will see you in the next chapter!
Kingmaker'sUmbreon