Chapter Thirty-One: When in Doubt
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The long empty corridor of level nine was suffused with enough magical energy to raise gooseflesh on Ella's arms. She walked slowly, the atmosphere nearly tangible around her. The air seemed to hum, the heavy quiet almost loud in its absence of sound. Even her footsteps were muffled.
There was nothing there. Just the walls and the floor, all the same, giving the impression of a tunnel. And the black door of the Department of Mysteries up ahead, lost in shadow. It seemed shapeless; just a dark and empty void.
As she stepped closer, she realized that it was. Shapeless. There was no door. Simply a black emptiness that seemed to glitter slightly as it swirled. She contemplated it for a bit, wondering why she hadn't been more proactive in asking Robert about what had been happening with Mysteries. It was awfully stupid, now that she considered it, to assume it would have looked exactly as it had before. Still, she had expected a door and not a bloody black hole in its place.
It must have been the door though, for there was nothing else there; so she tentatively reached out a finger and poked at the black void.
There was no reaction; not from the darkness. Not from her hand either.
The black void didn't feel like anything. It had no thickness. No texture. Not even a tingle of magical energy that felt distinct from the corridor. It was like touching air.
She extended her arm, until it vanished into the black all the way past her wrist. Still nothing. Ella examined her hand, shrugged, and stepped forward into the void.
For a second, all she saw was black. And then it cleared, and up ahead was another corridor; exactly identical to the one she'd left behind. Equally empty, dim, and weighty, with only the slight glow that seemed to belong to the walls to keep it from falling into darkness. She took a few steps forward, frowning slightly as she squinted ahead. It almost looked like… she drew a little closer… yes, it was. Up ahead was the little antechamber that housed the lift and stairs that she had come from, which led further down to level ten.
She turned around, glancing back down the corridor. It extended for several feet before coming to a halt at the familiar black void.
"Oh, bloody hell," she muttered, approaching it again. "That's clever."
The black void seemed unmoved by her compliment. She considered trying it once more, but didn't see what was likely to change. It wasn't as if it was the Room of Requirement, where you were guaranteed entry if you simply asked three times. Instead, she reached for her wand and was about to send a patronus to Robert when the black swirled suddenly, glittering in a more turbulent manner, and Penelope Clearwater stepped out of the darkness and into the space beside her.
"Penny!" Ella said, stepping back in surprise.
"Ella!" Penelope seemed equally shocked to see her. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, er…" Ella began, and then paused, fumbling over the words in her mind. I'm here to investigate Saul like a bloody detective. I reckon he might be a traitorous murderer. I hope that's not true. "The new door's impressive."
"I suppose," Penelope said, giving the black void a once-over. "Makes it much harder to just waltz in if you're not authorized, that's for sure."
"Right. I guess I'm not authorized anymore," Ella said, her words acknowledgement more than complaint. It was a great door in theory. But if the person intent on destroying Mysteries was already—
"Oh no," Penelope said. "You should be. I expect they just haven't gotten round to it. I mean—"
"Of course," Ella said quickly. "No worries, I know my project's not really that important, especially right now."
"Don't be silly." Penelope gave her a small smile. "It's very important, Ella! And you know we'll get back to it. It'll be nice to work on something creative again, actually. I don't know how many creative projects we really have on hand right now…" She trailed off, looking quite sad about it.
"I can imagine."
They stood there for a silent moment, and Ella let her mind wander, back past the intervening weeks, to when she'd led a very different sort of life. Back when things were much simpler. When babies were promises of a bright future and not tumors growing in her womb, and there were no unimaginable questions about Voldemort, and Harry didn't have a horcrux stalking him. And Albus was alive…
Back then, Ella's days had been busy with research, and hours spent with Albus. Overnights in the lab they had commandeered in the Hogwarts dungeons, where nothing had mattered but the discoveries they'd made. She missed it. The endless trips, back and forth between Hogwarts and Transportation and Mysteries, leaving little time to teach her class at all. And all the consultations with Penelope and Saul. Not that the Stone had much to do with traveling through time, per se. It was more the way that it connected the worlds at different sync points that the Modus found so fascinating. The two of them had spent many days — many lunches and evenings; all trying to understand this magic at its roots.
Perhaps Penelope was remembering them all too.
"Is that why you're here?" she asked finally, startling Ella out of her thoughts. "To see about the Stone? We still haven't found it, I'm afraid. We've turned over everything at this point, so it will be officially recorded as one of the lost items in the March report. You should be notified then."
"It's fine." Ella shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Actually, I'm here to see Rob."
"Oh!" Penelope said. "Well, let me show you in then." And she grabbed Ella's hand and stepped right back into the void, pulling Ella through alongside her.
This time, she felt the magic brushing her skin. Suffusing her. And then the black around her cleared away like fading mist, and they were standing in a large open room. It appeared to be some kind of gathering space. There was a bar along the far wall, enchanted windows above it through which sunlight filtered through. The bar was lined with stools, and tables were spread throughout the space. Seating lined the walls around her, peppered with low tables. Something of a cross between couches and benches. She wasn't sure what the benches were made of, exactly. It was something clear, and within it shadows swirled. The best way she could think to describe them was like Protego bubbles with the charm set to the semi-hard variation. The walls seemed to be made of the same material, and she eyed them with interest as they walked along.
"Our brainstorm room," Penelope explained, leading her through it and past several Unspeakables Ella didn't know who glanced up as they passed, their eyes suspicious. They stepped into a corridor, the walls still formed of the same strange substance.
"We're not sure where we're putting it yet," Penelope continued, "but right now it's the entrance chamber."
"I see," Ella said quietly. It was a marked change from how Mysteries had looked before, but considering it probably hadn't been updated since its inception in the 17th century, she could hardly be surprised with the modern redesign. "So how is the restoration going?"
"It's going. We've cleaned up everything. And we're restoring each individual chamber. The system to connect them…" Penelope shrugged. "Well, we're not sure quite yet. For now we just have the corridors. But it will have to be easy to navigate and significantly more secure."
"Hmmm," Ella said quietly. "What's that stuff the walls are made of?"
"Protective enchantments. Cushioning charms. If something were to happen again, they'd absorb physical and magical energy."
"Ah, I thought so."
"Also they glow in the dark and it's damn wicked."
Penelope turned down another corridor, leading her further and further into what felt like a maze, until it opened into a wider space — a room that held several worktables. She could see the beginnings of windows being outlined on the walls.
"There's Robert," Penelope said, gesturing unnecessarily at the far corner, where Ella caught a flash of Robert's red hair. He stood, leaning over a desk, completely oblivious to their presence.
"It's good you're here," Penelope added quietly. "He barely talks to anyone since he's come back, you know? I imagine it's really hard. We try to give him space. But I'm really not sure what he's doing half the time."
"Hmmm," Ella said again, as she had some ideas of what that could be.
"Right. Well, I was about to pop by the new Muggle cafe across the road. I'll leave you to it."
"All right, thanks."
"Hope we can work together again soon," Penelope added with a smile. "I'm looking forward to it." And she turned and slipped back into the corridor, leaving Ella at the edge of the room. She glanced carefully around the empty space before making her way toward Robert.
"Hey."
"Ella!" He turned around, surprised. "What are you— how did you get here?"
"Penny showed me in." There was a discarded chair beside Robert's workspace and she settled into it, glancing up at him. "I was going to waltz right in, you see, but your new black hole door stopped me. Can I call it a black hole?"
"Sure. We do." He leaned against the table, folding his arms as he met her eyes.
"How does it work?" she asked, because now that she was actually here, everything she needed to discuss felt much too unwieldy.
"Oh, you know it… reads your magical signature. It lets you through if you're authorized."
"How?" she asked curiously.
Robert shrugged. "From your touch mainly. It just needs to make contact. Anything will do."
"Ah."
Robert watched her, a frown marring his features. "It's a bit like Ciyradil," he added quietly into the silence. "The library guide."
She sighed, shooting a glance around the empty room again. "So you've heard about Saul then?"
"Yes," he said, his voice even quieter than hers. "And about Harry. Is he all right? Are you?"
"No," she admitted. "But that's nothing new, is it?"
"No, I suppose it isn't." Robert's frown deepened. "I'm sorry, Ella. None of this should be happening."
"I know." She looked down, the silence stretching between them. Her heart ached for Harry. It was too heavy a burden. She couldn't bear it. "About Saul…" she said finally. "I don't understand, Rob. Do you reckon he was involved? I just can't… I don't believe it. But I don't know what else to think."
Robert considered her for a bit, saying nothing. Then he turned back to his desk and shuffled through the papers atop it, handing her several.
"What's this?" she asked, studying it. It didn't seem to make any sort of sense. Just a listing of names and numbers. The next paper seemed to be a summary of several experiments in Time. She skimmed it, pausing when her eyes snapped to a familiar name. "Rookwood?"
"It's a record of Mysteries projects by department," Robert said, shrugging. "From the early 80s."
"So they worked together." Ella lowered the papers, frowning.
"It doesn't really mean anything." Robert met her eyes, his voice unreadable. "Saul and I worked together also. For years."
"So did we," she said quietly. There was a sudden burning in her eyes. She blinked, glancing away from Robert. And between them, silence stretched.
"I would not have thought," Robert said finally, "when it was all happening… that he was involved."
Ella turned back then, watching him. Robert never talked about what had happened at Mysteries. Had barely said a word about it since their conversation in St. Mungo's months ago.
"We dueled," Robert said softly. "He dueled. I saw his face. He… no, I don't believe he was faking. That they were working together. I don't. But…"
"But you didn't see," she said, when he fell silent again. "You were hurt, and the Love Chamber was broken open, and neither of them was found." And Robert was far too busy… bleeding out… watching his boyfriend die. "And you didn't see," she finished, her voice faltering.
"No," Robert agreed, his voice even quieter. She supposed he was remembering it all too.
She looked away again, her gaze falling to her hands as she twisted them in her lap. She thought of Saul, overseeing her research. Logging each and every Stone development into his project journal. His patient explanations of all the ways that Traveling and Time were connected. The way he'd always offered her encouragement with a smile.
"They can't officially investigate him," she said finally, and her voice was dull. "To confirm he's responsible… or even to clear his name. There's nothing…"
"I know."
"They'd need evidence," Ella rambled on, explaining all the things he clearly already knew. "He was head of the Modus. A hero." Was he a hero? Or a villain after all? "And they can't tell Robards what we have without telling him everything."
"I know," Robert repeated.
"But we can't tell them. Not about the horcruxes."
Robert said nothing, merely watched her.
"What are we going to do, Rob?" She felt tears sting her eyes again and bitterly blinked them away. "I can't help Harry. He says it's all under control. He says he's doing Occlumency to block it out. But he's awful at it, you know?"
"Hmmm."
"It's not even about catching him," Ella pressed on, twisting her hands together. "Though we'd need to…. But I need to know." Her voice grew stronger. "If Saul was a traitor. I have to know. Is that selfish?"
"Maybe," Robert allowed, when she had finally talked herself into silence. "But that's all right, isn't it?"
"Is it?" she whispered, staring down at the floor. Her eyes burned. "I feel so bloody useless, Rob. Snape gave Harry that potion and he nearly died and I just sat there. There's a horcrux in his head, and I'm just sitting here. I'm just here, watching everything fall apart."
"Of course you aren't…"
"I am," she insisted. "All I have to give is information. And it's useless. And now I'm just complaining to you, as if you haven't—"
"Ella, it isn't useless," Robert said seriously. She spared a glance at him. His face was pale, but set. "Don't do this to yourself. We're all doing the best we can. You're giving everything you have."
"But, I—"
"No 'buts,'" Robert said, cutting her off. "You're doing everything you can. You know that, don't you?"
She shrugged, looking down at her hands again. Twisting them in her lap. Was she supposed to be one of the brave ones? She couldn't even remember what that felt like anymore. Her hands blurred slightly.
"Look," Robert added, his voice gentle. "Things look dark right now. It's all right if that's upsetting. Take a moment, Ella. Feel that. Be a little selfish. That's human, isn't it?"
"As if we have time to—"
"Then make time." His voice was fierce enough to shock her out of her stupor, and she glanced up at him. Robert's eyes were blazing. "You have to make time, Ella. You're doing your best. We all are. You need to hear that, even if it doesn't feel that way right now. And I'm here." His voice was softer now. Gentle again. "Whenever you need to complain. I'll listen."
"When did you get so wise?" she whispered, blinking the tears away.
"I was always wise," Robert said, and she could hear the broken smile in his voice. "You lot just refused to see it."
"Thank you." She nodded. Felt the weight in her chest lift just a little bit. "I needed to hear that."
"I know. I give myself the same pep talk every morning."
She laughed weakly at that, letting her eyes wander around the empty room. She thought it might be nice when it was finished. "Well, I'm done complaining for now, so let's get Saul sorted, d'you reckon? You didn't find any secret horcrux books that happened to mysteriously vanish from the library here, did you?"
"Unfortunately, no," Robert said stoically. "But Margaret Croaker has been inviting me to tea for weeks. I accepted this morning. We're meeting next Saturday."
"Saul's… wife?" Ella asked, staring at him in surprise. She hadn't really thought of Margaret, but of course, Saul was married. She had known that. Vaguely. Robert nodded. "What does she want?"
"I don't know, honestly," he said, shrugging. "I've been avoiding the invitation."
"So now you're going to go and, what?" Ella asked with a frown. "Feel her out? Do a little poking around?"
"If I have to." Robert's face was set.
She thought about that a moment. About how terribly unlike Robert this all was. About all the things that could go wrong, because they didn't understand, simply… anything.
And how awful, how absolutely awful, it must be for Margaret, assuming she was just a widow and not somehow involved in the mess that had ensnared their lives. And how awful it would be if she was.
She sighed. "Then I suppose I'd better come with you."
She couldn't say how it was that the week that followed flew, and yet it crawled.
It passed, mostly, in flashes, and each was a lifetime long. Her class the following day lasted an eternity. She taught it out of a fog, and had anyone paused to ask her a question, she was sure she wouldn't have been able to answer. It was worse still, since Siggy wasn't there, having finally sent Ella a short note explaining she was ill, and nothing more.
And then there were the conversations with Harry.
"I don't like it," he had said, of their plan to visit Margret. "Have you considered that she's involved? What if Saul's hiding in the house?"
"But why would she invite Rob to tea if that were the case?" Ella had said reasonably. "Why draw that kind of attention when everyone thinks Saul's a hero?"
"I dunno. But just the two of you—"
"Harry, c'mon, we're more than capable," she had said shortly. "Besides, you lot will be just minutes away."
He had agreed, because it didn't make sense for anyone else to go, nor for Robert to go alone. He didn't like it, she knew that. She hated to add to his burden when it was already so heavy, and when he wasn't really wrong; but something had to be done. If they could find something. Some answers. Anything suspicious that Harry could bring to Robards to justify an official investigation.
Still, it was a foolish plan. Potentially dangerous. Robert would be the first to admit that his magic wasn't the strongest. And the chemo treatments left her weak. Her reflexes slow, and mind foggy. By the time she finished teaching her class the following Friday afternoon, she could barely stay awake on her feet. The only things that had sustained her for the duration were the latest number (a beautiful 983 at the start of her fourth round) and Siggy's reappearance. The girl had looked pale and nearly as exhausted as Ella felt, but she had the homework and had done her share of the lesson plan. And then Friday, somehow, had finally ended.
And Saturday was bright and sunny. And felt a better day.
"Are you sure about this?" Robert asked her as they walked along the path that led to Margaret Croaker's front door. "You can wait with the others. I can chat with her well enough alone."
"Don't be an idiot," she replied evenly. She thought of Harry and Ron, who were waiting just outside the boundary of the protective wards, ready to burst in at the first sign of trouble. Of Daniyel at the A.O., able to engage Robards at a moment's notice, should that sort of intervention become necessary. "I'm not going anywhere. Besides, how are you going to distract her on your own?"
And she reached out as they approached the door, announcing their arrival with three loud knocks.
It didn't take long for Margaret to come to the door.
"Oh, Robert," she said, offering him a smile from her threshold. "Hello, dear. And oh, you've brought…?"
"Hello, ma'am," she said politely. "I'm Ella Potter. I knew Saul quite well through work. I hope it's all right I'm here?"
Margaret looked surprised for only a moment, before ushering them into the quiet hush of her modest mansion.
"Of course, dear. Do come in, both of you."
Ella hadn't really known what to expect. Like most Unspeakables, Saul had kept his private life private. No names or photographs of his family had ever appeared in the Prophet or in any records otherwise released to the public. The Ministry took great lengths to secure that sort of information. After all, it wouldn't do to have the family members of high level Unspeakables kidnapped in an attempt to sway their loyalties. Until the attack on the Ministry, the entire DOM had made every effort to stay out of the public eye. So Margaret Croaker was an enigma. She could have been British royalty or Ella could have run into her on the street a dozen times and not known the difference.
In reality, Margaret was rather ordinary. She was older, as Saul had been, with hair on the edge of silver, a plump figure, and a kind smile. She led them through a vestibule, past a library, a music room, and a formal dining room with a table that could easily sit twelve, until they finally settled down in what she called a sitting room at the west edge of the house.
"Tea?" she offered, and then called out, "Alvie!" and a house elf appeared before them.
"The tea tray please," she told the elf, "and do bring along the sandwiches as well."
The elf nodded politely and vanished with a crack, and Margaret indicated that they should sit. Ella settled into an armchair, which was surprisingly comfortable despite the very proper way it looked, and considered that what she and Harry meant by "sitting room" was probably a very informal definition. This room seemed to have simply no other purpose.
"Thank you for coming," Margaret said, when they were properly settled, and Alvie had reappeared, bearing a large 3-tier stand of cakes and sandwiches as well as a teapot. The elf poured them each a cup, bowed to Margaret, and vanished with another crack.
"I wasn't sure," she continued, addressing the comment to Robert, "but I have been hoping you would."
Robert took a sip of his tea before setting down the cup. It made a soft chink against the saucer. "I'll admit that I was surprised by the invitation."
Margaret nodded, seemingly considering her words before she finally spoke. "I understand you worked with Saul quite often?"
"He was my team leader," Robert said softly. He paused. "A fine man."
"Yes," Margaret agreed. "Quite." She glanced at Ella then. "And you as well? I do know who you are, of course. Well, both of you. It was quite the stir back then, wasn't it? Stopping He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I should thank you both."
"Oh no, that's really not necessary," Ella said, her stomach sinking slightly. "It was so long ago. We've really…" She trailed off, glancing at Robert.
"Still," Margaret insisted. "And everything you've done since. I understand you're a pioneer of interworld exploration. But I had no idea you worked with Saul as well. He never spoke of his work, you see. It was not allowed, and he always did take rules quite seriously."
"Yes," Ella said. "Well, I'm not employed by the Ministry myself, but I was working on a project, er, in that interworld exploration field and it required oversight by Mysteries, and Saul was a big part of that team."
"I see." Margaret smiled, taking a small sip from her own teacup. "How wonderful. I didn't realize the Department of Mysteries engaged in such collaborations. I truly would love to hear about it, if that would be possible. Not the specifics, of course," she added hurriedly, waving her hand to confirm the point. "I do quite understand about your non-disclosures. But anything you can tell me would be appreciated, dear."
"Oh," Ella said, taken aback. "Well there's nothing, really…" she paused, considering Margaret, who was watching her with rapt attention. Her explorations of Traveling were independent of the Ministry. Not bound by any such agreements. But she doubted that a breakdown of Travel science was what the woman was after. "He was very kind," she said firmly. "Patient. Knowledgeable. Incredibly knowledgeable." Margaret seemed to be hanging on to every word.
"I did most of my work outside the Ministry," Ella added, searching for something she could say which would be satisfactory. "But when there was an issue, I would often come to Mysteries to work through it, and Saul and his team would always be happy to help. He was very hands on, and… " she trailed off, glancing at Robert. "Truly, if you'd like to know more about how Saul was at work, I think Rob's the one to ask. That's why you invited him, isn't it? I just miss him terribly, so that's why I came along."
"Well, thank you, dear," Margaret said. "That's very kind."
Ella offered an innocent smile. "Not at all. Actually, would it be all right if I used the restroom?"
"Of course, let me have Alvie show you the way."
"Oh, I wouldn't want to bother Alvie," Ella said quickly. "I'm sure I can find it. Wasn't it—"
"Nonsense," Margaret said lightly. "I can't find it half the time myself. This house is much too large. Alvie!"
The elf appeared before Ella could say another word.
"Would you show this young lady to the guest restroom please, Alvie?"
"Certainly, mistress," Alvie said in a slightly less-squeaky voice than Ella had been expecting. "This way please, miss."
"Thank you," Ella said graciously, and followed Alvie out of the room.
The elf led her past several of the rooms they had passed earlier, back in the direction of the front door. She glanced around as they walked, sighing inwardly. The house was huge. She didn't know what she had expected to find, but there was no way she was going to find it now. Especially with a babysitter.
"Is that a library?" she asked casually, as they walked past the room, the doors thrown wide open. "How delightful. I've always wanted to have my own library."
"Yes, miss," Alvie said, pausing as she peeked into the room. "Master insisted that a library was the most important room in the house."
That sounded promising. She hesitated on the threshold. "So this was Saul's library?"
"Yes, that's right, miss." Alvie appeared quite sad. "Mistresses hasn't been inside since he passed. She stands by the doors, you see, but she won't— Oh, Alvie shouldn't say…"
"That's all right," Ella said quickly. "Please don't worry. You haven't said anything improper. Oh, I do miss Saul so terribly."
"Did young miss know Master Saul?"
"I did," Ella said, nodding. "He was a wonderful man, wasn't he? Did you like him, Alvie?"
"Oh, Alvie would never speak ill of his masters," Alvie said seriously. "But Alvie did like Master Saul very much. Very much, miss."
"Could I have a peek, do you reckon?" Ella asked. "I hate to think of Saul's library sitting all empty, collecting dust."
"Oh, never dust, miss!" Alvie looked horrified at the thought. "Alvie dusts it every day, miss! But Alvie isn't sure whether young miss should…"
"Oh, just a quick look?" Ella asked hopefully. "I'm sure Saul wouldn't mind. He loved sharing books with me, you see."
"Well," Alvie said tentatively, "perhaps just for a minute, miss…"
"Great!" Ella said brightly, and hurried into the library before the elf could change his mind.
It was an impressive library. Not Hogwarts-huge, but big by home library standards. It was airy and bright. Windows lined the far wall, suffusing the room with early-April sunlight, and Saul had opted for a lighter wood for the shelves. Overall, the effect was quite nice. The remainder of the walls were lined with books. The shelves reached all the way to the ceiling — easily fifteen feet high, if not more. There was a library ladder tucked into the corner beside the door, which she spotted as she glanced around in a bit of awe. There was a reading area by one of the windows, with a desk and several armchairs. She thought Hermione would have rather liked it.
"Wow, this is beautiful," she said brightly to Alvie, who had remained by the door, looking a bit nervous. His hands were fiddling with the hem of his perfectly pressed pillowcase, as if he were restraining himself from running after her.
Trying her best to put aside any guilt about what she was doing, Ella stepped further into the library, gazing at the titles of the books as she walked past. They appeared to be organized by section, and then alphabetically. She walked past a section on gardening, then one on magical creatures. Above that, there appeared to be a small collection of foreign texts.
"What an amazing collection," she said to Alvie conversationally, approaching the eastern wall. The books here appeared to be fictional. She saw the spine of The Tales of Beedle the Bard and swallowed. She briefly wondered if Saul had had children. "How long did it take Saul to do all this?"
"Oh, Master Saul was always adding to the library, miss. A new book almost every day."
"Really?" Ella turned around. Alvie was still standing on the threshold, shifting nervously from foot to foot. "What was he working on most recently?"
"It's there, miss." Alvie pointed to a section of shelving several feet above her head. She glanced up. The books there did look a bit haphazard. She saw some gaps in the shelving. The titles were a bit too far up to make out."
"Oh," she said softly. "I guess he didn't finish it."
"A library is never finished, miss," Alvie explained. "That is what Master always said."
"Right. Of course." She stepped away, focusing her attention elsewhere. "Do you reckon I could try out the ladder? Only I've always wanted to, and—"
"Alvie thinks young miss has looked around enough." The elf stepped into the library, offering her an apologetic bow. "If Mistress Margaret were to see…"
"Of course, say no more." Ella hurried out of the room. "My apologies, Alvie. Thank you for showing me. It's a beautiful library. Saul would be happy to see you've been keeping it up."
Alvie looked mollified, thanked her profusely, and they resumed their track to the bathroom. Ella paused at the door when they arrived, and offered the elf her brightest smile.
"Thank you, Alvie. I may be a little while. Girl stuff. No need to wait for me. I remember the way back."
"Oh, but—"
Ella offered him a bright smile. "I wouldn't want to keep you. I'm sure you have many things to do for Margaret."
The elf wavered, looking a bit uncertain. "If young miss were to get lost, Mistress Margaret would be most displeased."
"Don't worry!" Ella said. "You just go straight down that hall, take a right, and then two lefts. Isn't that right? Please, I insist. I get so anxious using the restroom if someone is waiting."
The elf nodded. "Alvie understands. Yes, that is correct, miss. Then Alvie will return to the kitchens." The elf bowed, gave her a small smile, and vanished with a loud crack. Ella waited for several breaths to make sure he wouldn't return, then she turned around and stole back down the hall and toward the library.
The door was still open, exactly as they had left it, and she slipped quickly inside, making her way to the ladder in the corner. She tried not to feel guilty as she worked it over to the section Alvie had pointed out. What was she doing? Pawing through the private library of a dead man while his widow sat grieving in the other room, trying to collect whatever pieces of her husband she could salvage. She climbed the ladder, feeling disgust pool in her stomach. If Saul was innocent, then she was as low as low could go. She was worse than dirt.
She was level with the books now. She squinted at the titles. If they could at least find something. Make this all worth it…
There were several books on dimension theory, which didn't surprise her, considering the subject of their work together. She skipped over those, having read many of them herself. The next book pertained to the grooming of dragons, so she assumed this section had not yet been organized. This didn't surprise her either. Then there was a book on Time, a big empty space, and a notebook, which momentarily excited her, but appeared to be blank, even after she attempted to jab it with her wand while muttering a few well chosen revealing spells. There was nothing else.
She stared at the section for a bit, attempting to will something else into existence. She even went so far as to move her hand through the empty space, just in case the books she was looking for were invisible. But her hand touched only air. And then a sudden sound trilled behind her, nearly startling her off the ladder.
She whirled, her eyes landing on an old fashioned cuckoo clock that hung in an alcove above the reading corner. A bird — real, as far as she could tell — had fluttered out onto a perch and chirped three times before retreating back into its enclosure.
"Shoot," Ella whispered, quickly descending the ladder. She had been gone much too long. She redirected it back to its place, nestling it carefully back into the corner. She turned to run back to the sitting room, and then she paused, her eyes settling on the section directly behind the ladder.
It was Magick Moste Evile. The book was standing loosely on the shelf, slightly tipped over, its dark red cover having caught her eye. She remembered that book. Remembered slamming it shut in a scene of Half-Blood Prince a lifetime ago, for the precise reason that it had not provided any useful information on the subject of horcruxes. And that book, despite all the space and time between, had looked just like this one.
She paused there, examining the section. Surely, it must have been Saul's section on Dark magic, for it also contained Dominating Dementors and Fifteenth Century Fiends along with several other questionable titles. She could hardly fault Saul for having such a section in his library. He was a scientist. A high level Unspeakable. His library was vast.
Still, there was something off about it. Something about the spacing of the books. Several jammed together, and then some standing so loosely they were near falling over. Almost as if some titles that should have been there were missing. Or had been removed…
She considered that, an uncomfortable chill settling in her stomach. Then she stepped out of the library and hurried back down the hall, her mind swirling.
Perhaps Robert could pick up her search in the library if she could sufficiently distract Margaret enough to pass him the message. She had stories enough of Saul to keep her engaged, after all. Plenty she could say to try to help the woman piece together memories of her husband. And then Margaret's voice drifted out into the hall as she approached the sitting room, and she paused, listening.
"I understand that you were present when he… when it happened."
Ella peeked carefully into the room. She couldn't see Margaret's face from where she stood, but Robert looked tense.
"I was," he said quietly, and his voice sounded guarded.
Margaret set down her teacup. There was a slight rattle as it hit the saucer, which faded almost immediately. Absorbed, Ella supposed, by all the rugs and fabrics that adorned the room. They didn't hide the bit of tea that had sloshed over the side, though. Or the way Margaret's hands trembled before she lowered them into her lap.
"Would you tell me about it? I've been told that Saul's body could not be recovered. The plot, I think you know, is empty."
Robert said nothing, his lips drawn tight.
"I have been told that my husband was very brave," Margaret continued, when the silence stretched. "That he died trying to save others. Forgive me, but you are the only one who…" she paused, seemingly considering her words. "Who made it out. So this story, it must have come from you. Is that correct?"
"I…" Robert said quietly. "Yes, that is."
"I understand that I am asking for a lot," Margaret pressed. "I imagine this must be terribly difficult for you. Please, I am not blaming you in any way. But you see, I can't quite seem to understand why this happened. And I…"
"I couldn't tell you that," Robert said quietly, and his voice sounded painfully rough. "I'm so sorry, but I don't have those answers."
"I know." She looked away. Paused. "But I believe that it would help. To hear what happened. You're the only one who could… Please." Her words trembled. "Would you consider it?"
Robert lowered his eyes, staring down at the floor. The silence grew heavy. Solid. It made Ella's heart hurt. And then there was the look on Robert's face. She hadn't seen it there for weeks. Not since… She swallowed.
"I'm back," she said abruptly, taking it as her cue to step into the room. She caught Robert's eyes, who stared back at her dully. "I'm so sorry to be gone so long. I… I'm actually feeling a bit ill."
"Are you all right?" Robert hurried to stand. "Let me take you home. I'm so sorry, Margaret."
"Oh, it's quite all right." Margaret stood as well, looking concerned. "I hope it's nothing too serious, dear."
"Not at all," Ella said weakly. "I'm sure I'll be just fine. Bit of rest. It was lovely meeting you. I'm sorry we couldn't stay longer."
"Please do come back anytime," Margaret said, leading them through to the door. "Robert, I hope you could consider my request, if it is not too much of a burden."
"I'll do that," he said softly, and followed Ella out onto the stone path that stretched across the lawn. Behind them, the door shut softly.
"You OK?" she asked, when they had put several feet between them and the mansion, and the only sounds around them were their muffled footsteps and the distant chirping of birds.
"Are you?" he asked dully. "Do you feel all right? Is it the chemo—"
"I'm fine." She brushed off the question with a hand. "Completely. I just thought you wanted to go?"
He glanced at her and nodded, his lips tightening. "She wanted closure. I couldn't give her that. So stupid. I should have realized…"
"It's all right." She grasped his hand. It was a rather big ask, considering they had only attended the tea party to try to gather info on Saul. Not that that stopped her from feeling guilty about the whole affair.
"I had a quick look through Saul's library," she added when Robert said nothing. "I didn't really find anything. But the Dark Arts section was looking a little spotty. I don't know if it could mean something, but…" She shrugged.
"So we have nothing."
"No," she agreed, and they fell into silence.
"We shouldn't have come," Robert said abruptly. "I'm sorry for suggesting it. This was a mistake."
And she could barely get another word out of him for the entire remainder of the walk. Until they stepped outside the boundary of the wards, to where Ron and Harry were waiting, and Robert turned on the spot. And vanished.
