"ɪF ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇᴛ ᴍʏ Fᴀᴍɪʟʏ, ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀSᴛᴀɴᴅ" — ᴊᴀᴄᴋ Sʜɪᴛᴀᴍᴀ
Chapter Ten: The Unicorn's Gift
"I expect you have something to do with this," said Ruby Potter, silhouetted aggressively by a halo of sunlight.
She eyed him suspiciously from her perch, her arms crossed, one Mary-Jane shoe tapping out an impatient rhythm.
Five minutes ago, she'd appeared at his door (how had she found it? Had she seen him from the window outside? Had Dumbledore told her?) with an accusatory look and a demand to be let in.
Tee was making them both tea, the steam slowly rising as it escaped a hairline crack in the teapot lid. Deciding that the leaves had had ample time to steep, he retrieved two identical cups, each painted in blue with an animated scene, like a living tapestry.
"I told you you'd be back," he said, choosing to ignore her accusations for the time being. She accepted the proffered cup but did not move to drink from it, instead setting it down beside her on the window seat. Tee pulled up a chair, warming his cold hands with his own cup.
"So you need my help."
To be honest, he had been getting impatient. And annoyed at the prospect that he might have been wrong.
"You poisoned Harry and Ginny Weasley. Ginny last week, and Harry weeks ago."
There was little weight behind her words, and he was not sure if she believed them herself. He was just easy to blame. Tee laughed mirthlessly and sipped his tea. It was bitter. Maybe he'd brewed it for too long.
"Who's Ginny Weasley?"
"You have to tell me what you did," she said fiercely.
Tee sighed and settled further into his chair. He had forgotten how irritating she could be in her absence. "Mind if I smoke?"
"You'll do it anyway."
She was probably right, he reflected, lifting a flame to one end of the cigarette. Tee dragged heavily on it, shutting his eyes, and the prickle of irritation faded.
"Your brother recently shoved me to what he likely assumed and hoped was my death."
No response. Ruby crossed her legs and frowned. She glared at him, then wisely decided against looking into the eyes of a Legilimens and drank her tea with the air of someone willing to sit in silence as long as necessary.
He watched her finish her tea and then regard the detritus left at the bottom with a critical eye.
Should he tell her?
What was the harm? He had nothing to leverage either way.
"Spit it out, Riddle," she ground out. Evidently, one didn't need to be a Legilimens to notice that he was deliberating.
Tee exhaled.
"I think someone has acquired basilisk venom, which, when used as an ingredient, can make some very potent and rare poisons with interesting properties. " He gestured to the tattered grimoire on the table, smoke trailing from the fingers of his left hand. "Take a look."
Warily, Ruby got up, still keeping an eye on him. She carefully recovered Moste Potente Potions and then returned to the window seat, the book draping heavily over her lap.
I wonder if there are any more Parselmouths here, other than me and Harry Potter. It seemed unlikely. Parseltongue was a rare and obscure ability.
Did Mordred find a way out, after all? Or is he still here? Could it have been him who scared the basilisk? Maybe Ruby's seen the locket. He almost regretted flinging it out the window. Almost.
She was deep in thought, flipping through the book.
I'd better not ask. She keeps bringing up Horcruxes as it is.
I... I wonder what she saw in her vision.
He settled on: "Find what you're looking for?"
"There's so many," Ruby pointed out. "You really did see someone in the Chamber?"
"I didn't."
"Then how do you know?"
"The basilisk was confused."
Ruby slammed Moste Potente Potions shut and sat up ramrod-straight, her eyes bugging out of her head. "You woke the basilisk?"
"Yes," said Tee simply, dragging on his cigarette. Here we go.
"Dumbledore banned you from speaking Parseltongue!"
He tapped the silvery naudiz on his cheek. "Yes, he did, but Harry Potter, as I mentioned, decided to shove me down the entrance to the Chamber, and it had time to wear off."
Ruby stood up, her eyes narrowing. She advanced towards him like a cobra might, upright and wary. "You wanted him to do that. You knew he would."
"I've always valued the consistency that Gryffindors possess." He gestured with the cigarette. "And no one is the worse for my little excursion."
"Except Harry and Ginny."
"If your timeline is correct, Harry was poisoned long before my trip. Don't look at me like that." He tapped the symbol again. "I have an alibi. Ask Dumbledore."
Tee swirled the last of the tea in the bottom of the cup and drank it. He stared at the grey-brown-green clumps; although he'd studied for a Divination O.W.L., that was a whole different life, and it had never been one of his passions, anyway.
"Will you do the honours?" he asked.
Regarding him with an arched eyebrow, Ruby instructed: "Turn it quickly three times from left to right, and drain the liquid on the ground."
He did so, and she solemnly took the cup, tilting it this way and that, her brows furrowing in concentration.
Tee's stomach dropped. "Is it bad?"
"Well," said Ruby slowly. "I'm not quite sure. You've got a clump that looks like an 'M,' but there's a wiggly bit like a snake next to it so that usually means you've got to face an enemy whose name starts with M."
M for Malfoy. M for... Mordred? A shiver went through him. He hoped she hadn't noticed.
"There's a leaf on the rim, so that means this confrontation with 'M', it's coming soon. And you've got a bit like a meandering path, with splits and breaks in it, so that means you've got to go on a complicated journey, but the little triangles mean you'll have good luck with it." Ruby cleared her throat, looking up finally. "But you know what they say, Divination's a woolly subject."
She offered him back the cup, handle first. "Goodbye."
Tee listened to her leave, her shoes tapping loudly at first and getting softer and softer. And then, there was Dumbledore, rapping his knuckles on the frame of Tee's open door.
He nearly groaned out loud. The older wizard had a tell-tale twinkle in his eyes that spelt a bad omen.
"Tom," said Dumbledore softly. "It appears that we need to talk."
Harry wasn't quite sure where to start, as the door to the Quidditch changing rooms shut behind them. He, Ron, and Hermione shrugged off the Invisibility Cloak, which pooled into a silver, silken pile.
"The showerheads might have something in them," said Hermione, lighting her wand and taking in the lockers, benches, and rows of brooms, each labelled with their respective team colours and owners' names. Indeed, Harry could hear a leaky showerhead dripping somewhere in the darkness.
Beside Harry, Ron took a wary look at the abyss before him. "Creepy at night, isn't it?"
Hermione turned around a little black spider on the back of her hand and an impish expression. "Itsy, btsy spider..."
"Put it away!" Ron nearly shrieked, and laughing to herself, Hermione flung it back into the darkness.
"I think we should split up and search," Hermione suggested. "I'll do the showers. Harry, you can do the brooms and balls, and Ron can do the lockers?"
Harry nodded tensely, and Ron followed suit.
Scooping up the Cloak, Harry headed towards where the players' brooms were stored, each placed on a rack mounted on a strip of wall painted with each team's colour and a little plaque with the owner's name above each broom. The Seekers' broomsticks were on the bottom rack — his and Cedric's Nimbuses, Cho Chang's Comet, and Blaise Zabini's Firebolt.
Nothing looked particularly odd about them nor the other brooms. Harry ran a finger along the grips on Ginny's broom, expecting to see residue, but nothing came off on his hands. They were all in excellent condition, not least because they had all been freshly coated with Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish, of which there was an ample stock of containers for each team.
All the way to the left, he saw Hermione carefully unscrewing a showerhead. Ron, predictably, was going through the contents of the Slytherins' lockers.
Harry turned to the balls stowed under one of the benches. It took a good deal of straining, shoving, and pushing to manoeuvre the heavy box out, but eventually, he managed it.
Lowering his wand to be level with the box, Harry sprang the clasp and eased the sturdy leather lid open.
The four familiar Quidditch balls lay there — the two black Bludgers struggling in their restraints (someone would be crazy to tamper with them), the large, bright red Quaffle, and of course, the Golden Snitch, its white wings fluttering delicately. The balls looked normal, too. But would he even be able to tell the difference?
"Found anything?" called Harry.
"Zabini's got a lot of pictures of himself," said Ron. "I think we might have another Lockhart on our hands."
Harry shuddered at the thought.
"Hermione?"
"No, nothing." She crossed the room, shaking water off her hands. "There's got to be something we're missing."
All of a sudden, the doorknob clattered against the wall, and all three jumped back.
A large black shadow filled the doorway, a dark smear like a Rorschach blot.
"Potter."
Harry's heart sank as he got to his feet.
"And Weasley. And Granger. I thought I saw a light," said Snape, his voice dripping with displeasure. "But then, how can I be surprised? After all, Potter, you have always considered rules to be beneath you. And Granger and Weasley—" Here, he looked pointedly at Hermione and Ron "—have always been too happy to join you in your folly-filled adventures."
Hermione folded her hands in front of her. "With all due respect, Professor Snape, we're doing something very important to the whole school."
"Silence, Miss Granger. Twenty points from Gryffindor." Snape fixed Harry with a cold, penetrating look.
"Don't you want to know why we're here?" asked Harry indignantly.
Snape's face soured even further. "How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter... arrogant... constantly accompanied by your obsequious and troublesome friends... strutting around the castle as if you own the place, sticking your nose into places they don't belong..."
Harry bristled. "My dad didn't strut," he said hotly, but as the words left his mouth, he realised that he didn't really know if that were true or not.
"Detention, all of you, tomorrow night, my office.. though I fear your company will be punishment for both parties." He stepped aside. "Out. Now."
With no recourse or rebuttal available, the trio shuffled past Snape, all glowering at him on their way out. Snape returned the expression.
Once they were out of earshot, Harry turned to the others and said:
"What if Snape did it? Why was he lurking around the changing rooms?"
"Oh, come on, Harry, that's ridiculous," said Hermione.
"No, it's not. He knows more about poisons and antidotes than anyone else at Hogwarts." Harry's praise was very begrudging.
"Either way, we ought to bloody get an award for this," Ron muttered under his breath as they trudged up to the Fat Lady and ducked through the portrait hole.
It was time yet again for another unbearable class, not because of the subject matter but because of her current standing amongst the other students. Ruby almost regretted petitioning to switch out of Muggle Studies.
The fourth-year Care of Magical Creatures lesson was being held outside despite the cold, and everyone was bundled up in their winter cloaks and scarves. Five elegantly, gracefully limbed white horses were trotting about in the clearing, their coats a soft, pure, glossy white and their golden hooves glimmering in the winter sun. A foal that seemed to be made of pure gold traipsed delicately between the adults, nickering softly, one of them affectionately nuzzled it.
Ruby had found herself somehow standing away from the throng of students. Or maybe they had moved away from her. That was likely.
"Oh, they're beautiful," Lavender was saying in a rapturous voice, her eyes bright from the cold.
"I wish Care of Magical Creatures was always like this," said Parvati. "You know, proper creatures like unicorns, not like—" She shuddered "—those horrible monsters he usually brings in."
"Gather round, ev'ryone!" called Hagrid, over the chatter. "Who can tell me wha' those creatures over there are?"
"Unicorns!" said Lavender, Parvati and Anthony at the same time, and Hermione sheepishly lowered her hand.
"Now, yeh all should consider yourselves lucky ter see 'em. Th' Forbidden Forest has a colony o' 'bout a hundred, an' there's on'y 'bout two thousand in the whole world," Hagrid instructed.
Ruby certainly did feel lucky to see them; they didn't seem to have a care in the world, and she wondered if it was right for a whole crowd of people to bother them.
"Unicorns'll eat grass like horses do, but they've got a sweet tooth. Wha' they really prefer is honey an' fruits an' berries an' the like." He gestured to a row of cauldrons filled with various fruits. "An' the little ones are more trusting, so I'll advise yeh ter keep ter the foal if yeh think yeh'll spook 'em. An' be gentle!"
"Oh, we're going to feed them?" Lavender enthused. "Could I go first, please?"
Out of the corner of her vision, Ruby saw Theodore Nott roll his eyes. He did not look excited in the least at the prospect of petting a unicorn.
Somehow, Ruby had found herself near the front of the line, though she had misgivings. From what she understood, unicorns were timid creatures and had a strong dislike for untrustworthy people.
Hagrid was explaining more about the type of diet to feed a sick unicorn, and the habitats they typically preferred. When it got to her turn, Ruby nervously scooped up a handful of ripe-looking blackberries and headed into the clearing.
Lavender, who had gotten there first, had finished feeding one of the unicorns and was giggling as two more adult unicorns coquettishly put their noses into her hands, searching for more treats. Ruby took a deep breath of the cold, stinging air and picked her way through the patches of snow, wet grass, and mud.
The little gold foal nickered again, softly, and trotted straight up to Ruby on its spindly legs. With her heart in her stomach, Ruby screwed her eyes shut and extended the hand holding the berries. Something soft and warm and velvety nudged her fingers, and she cracked her eyes open. The foal, a heart-soaringly magical thing of beauty and grace and wildness, was gently poking her hand, its breath warm against her fingers in the bitter cold.
Apprehensive, she reached out to stroke its head, and it leaned into her touch, ears pointed forward and relaxed. Ruby relaxed, too. Nothing mattered, nothing but the unicorn.
"They're amazing, aren't they?" asked Lavender, and it took Ruby nearly a full minute to realise she was being spoken to.
"Yes," Ruby breathed. "They are."
A laugh rang out from the other side of her.
"Hey— I don't have anymore, see?" Anthony spread his fingers wide, grinning, and the unicorn, ears pricked up, playfully nosed the traces of sugar between his fingers. "Alright, fine." He retrieved a sugar cube from his pocket, which the unicorn excitedly nibbled.
Surprisingly, Anthony caught her gaze and smiled back at her, a real, genuine smile.
"Alright, time ter give someone else a turn!" called Hagrid, and Ruby reluctantly extricated herself from the golden unicorn. The others looked similarly grudging.
Lavender and Parvati linked arms as they picked their way across the wet ground, and Ruby thought longingly of running to catch up with them, but the split second of forgiveness had been the unicorns' gift, the unicorns and their wondrous ability to make everything soothing and light and wild and playful.
Ruby watched the next group go in and warmed her hands by blowing on them, watching the unicorns interact with the other students. Ron tried to offer one a handful of apple slices, but it nickered and turned its whole body every time he tried to approach it as if it were teasing him. Many boys had similarly bad luck, but no one outright spooked them.
"Las' group!"
Harry, Theodore, and a few students she knew by face but not name made their way into the clearing. One of the unicorns regarded Harry curiously, then sniffed the kiwi in his hand, nibbled it, and made what Ruby could only assume was an expression of disgust.
Theodore approached the golden foal, as she had, with a handful of cubed mangoes, which seemed to be a very successful treat. He held out his hand, and then something altogether strange happened.
The foal's eyes dilated, its ears flicking forward, then flicking back against its head. Its tail lashed furiously back and forth. Harry and the other students backed away as the other unicorns caught sight of Theodore, snorting and rearing and gnashing their white teeth. As one, the unicorns turned tail and bolted back across the clearing and into the forest.
Hagrid eyed Theodore suspiciously as the group returned from the clearing, but he said nothing aloud. The general atmosphere was tense, and part of Ruby was glad that, at least for the time being, she wasn't the one everyone was whispering about.
"Did you see that — all those unicorns were scared of him!"
"Probably doesn't take much to spook a unicorn, though."
"Still—"
Hagrid cleared his throat uneasily, and the whispering petered out. "So, I hope yeh've all learnt a bit abou' the care o' unicorns. Th' assignment is ter read th' chapter in Fantastic Beasts abou' th' Red Cap ter prepare yeh fer next week's lesson," he said, rubbing his dustbin-lid-sized hands together in a nervous fashion.
"Great," Ruby heard Parvati say under her breath. "More monsters."
She slung her bookbag over her shoulder and followed the throng of students heading inside, making sure to shake the mud off her boots for fear of triggering Filch's ire.
Someone said her name just as she crossed the threshold, a puff of cold air wafting from the double doors. Ruby turned.
Anthony stood a little in front of the doorway, his nose and cheeks pink from the cold, his fingers fidgeting with the edges of his copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. The knot in his blue-and-bronze tie had nearly pulled out, and there was something questioning in his eyes.
Ruby had been dreading this.
"Yes?" she asked hesitantly.
Anthony swallowed hard and glanced down at his shoes. She could guess what he was thinking. What he was seeing.
A wave of misery flooded her. "I know you think I'm evil. Maybe you're right."
His head jerked up.
"No, I don't think you're evil," he said, tucking the book under his arm, slower than Ruby had ever heard him speak. "I'm not sure I believe in good and evil at all. I think I know — well, not know, but guess, really, why Harry's an Obscurial. And so I'm sorry for what you did, and I'm even sorrier that you didn't tell me and I had to find out from Theodore Nott, but I don't think it makes you evil." He cleared his throat nervously. "So, if it's alright, can I sit with you in Ancient Runes again?"
It was as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders; Ruby thought she would in fact like nothing more.
"Yes! Let's — let's start working on the fifth-year project, too!"
"Sounds good," said Anthony with a small smile. "Well, uh, I've got to go to Potions next, but I'll see you?"
He waved goodbye, and Ruby waved back.
Maybe things are looking up. Maybe things aren't so bad after all.
She floated through her next few classes as if in a dream, in such a superbly good mood that even Theodore Nott couldn't bring her down.
At dinner in the Great Hall, Hedwig found her way, unexpectedly, to the Slytherin table, dropping a piece of card paper in Ruby's lap and begging for a treat, with her snowy head tilted to the side, only to fly over to the Gryffindor table, and pressure Harry for the same.
Her wonderful mood was quickly soured by the dirty looks she was getting from nearly the entire Gryffindor table; Ruby had forgotten that a fair amount of people thought she was somehow poisoning everyone. To make matters worse, Harry, Ron and Hermione's search yesterday had turned up nothing to the contrary.
One of the upper-year Slytherins even congratulated her yesterday but recommended that she 'do a Mudblood next time.' Colin Creevey had fallen backwards off his seat when she walked by earlier.
The Slytherin fourth-years, at least, were quiet for once. Ruby supposed she should be grateful for small mercies and attended to Hedwig's delivery.
𝒢𝓇𝓎𝒻𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓇 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓂𝑜𝓃 𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓂, 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒹𝒾𝓃𝓃𝑒𝓇? 𝒫𝒶𝓈𝓈𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹'𝓈 '𝐹𝒶𝒾𝓇𝓎 𝐿𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈'
It was Lavender's familiar loopy cursive in her usual sparkly pink ink. Could it be forged? Ruby glanced over at the Gryffindor table, where Lavender was giggling loudly, and Parvati was having a whispered argument with Dean Thomas.
Worst case scenario, I get hexed by an army of angry Gryffindors. Best case scenario... is unrealistic.
Maybe she'd pushed her luck as far as it could go today, what with the unicorns and Anthony and—
"Oh, just go with them," said Daphne irritably. "And yes, I noticed the longing stares."
And so, after dinner, Ruby apprehensively made her way up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower. Was it real, she wondered? Did they really want to see her? How would the Gryffindors react to her invading their common room?
Ruby picked at the knot of her green-and-silver tie, crumpling the silk fabric in her fist. Sadly, with her resemblance to Harry, she didn't think it would do much good.
Nevertheless, she had found herself in front of the Fat Lady's painting. Said occupant was busy primping with the aid of a handheld mirror and emitted a shocked noise when Ruby cleared her throat.
"Um, fairy lights?"
Not recognising her, the Fat Lady gave her an odd look, but she must not have wanted to contemplate it too much so she could get back to her primping, and she swung her portrait aside so Ruby could duck inside.
Compared to the Slytherin Dungeons, Gryffindor Tower was gloriously warm, with an even larger fireplace filled with roaring orange flames. The walls were a comforting deep red, and the room was filled with squashy armchairs, boldly patterned rugs, loud music emanating from somebody's radio, and chatter.
Ruby need not have worried; no one even noticed her entrance. She stood still for quite a while, gazing out one of the windows at the dark grounds.
"There you are!" cried a familiar voice. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming."
Ruby turned; Lavender had come up behind her, and Parvati, too, with a mischievous expression. Lavender punched Ruby lightly in the arm.
"You ignored us in class today!"
"I-I... I didn't know you'd forgiven me." Ruby looked up. "Have you? I mean..."
Lavender and Parvati shared a look.
"What Theodore Nott told us, it did scare us, Ruby, it really did," started Parvati. "But we decided we need to hear it from you as well, properly. If you want to, that is."
"No," said Ruby, her voice sounding pale even to her own ears. "I should tell you. But—" She glanced around the crowded common room "—not here."
" 'Course not, silly," said Lavender with her usual air of nonchalance. "I don't think anyone's in the dorms. We could go upstairs."
Ruby nodded her assent, and together, the three girls climbed the stairs, narrowly avoiding a horde of first-years thundering down.
The dormitory was just how she remembered it from her previous visits, a room with identical four-poster beds with their own rug, owl perch, and nightstand, not dissimilar to the Slytherin dorms except for the red-and-gold colour scheme and the paraphernalia strewn across the room; shoes, mismatched socks, cardigans, cheap fashion jewellery, long-forgotten scrunchies that had lost their Elastic Charms, half-used tubes of lip gloss, magazines, and overdue library books. Daphne would have had an aneurysm on the spot at the sight.
Lavender hastily swept a small mountain of old Witch Weekly magazines under her bed with her foot, and Parvati shut the door.
So the trial begins, Ruby thought with great trepidation as Lavender patted the bed beside her. She sat down uneasily, crossing her ankles. Ruby wondered if it was possible to vomit your stomach out — not the contents, but the organ. It certainly felt that way.
"We're your friends," said Lavender, as if she had noticed Ruby's anxiety.
Right.
Ruby cleared her throat, conscious of the two girls' eyes on her.
"They were Vernon and Petunia Dursley." Maybe if I tell it like a story or a nightmare, something that didn't happen to me. "They were the ones who brought us up. Kind of. Not really."
She closed her eyes, and the low, sloped ceiling of the cupboard hovered above her.
"Aunt Petunia is my mother's sister." Stick to facts. "The reason we went to them, it's because the protection she put on Harry needed to be bound to a blood relative. I wasn't old enough. So it had to be Petunia." Her eyes flew open. "I don't think they hated us at first. They didn't want us. But I think they didn't hate us, until..." Ruby trailed off.
"Until you did accidental magic," said Parvati gently, her eyes wide and worried.
Ruby nodded and then swallowed the large, dry lump that had spontaneously formed in her throat. "You've got to understand; Harry, the way he is now, he wasn't always that way."
"Yes, Obscuruses are developed over a long period of time," said Lavender.
"No, not that. He— he— " Her eyes were brimming with tears that threatened to fall as she pictured Harry in her mind's eye, as she had in her first lesson with Trelawney, as he had been five years ago. Harry with a glassy expression like a sick fawn, green eyes in a thin face; green eyes in a storm of misery and death.
"It's always been harder for Harry. Because he's honest about who he is. He can't help it."
It was no use stopping it. The tears were coming.
"I think Petunia and Vernon thought they could break him. Make him normal. Both of us. But Harry especially. He scared them. I don't know. I don't understand any of it."
"It had to stop," she said, the only thing she was sure of, that and Lavender's small, nervous hand petting her shoulder. "You saw it, that night in the third-floor corridor in first year. It was killing him. Right in front of me. It was — it was soul murder. So I got him out. Got us both out. You know how."
Parvati squeezed her hand, and then they sat there for what felt like hours, heads together, the tears rolling unbidden and unhurried down Ruby's face, staining her cheeks with salt, and Lavender tucking her hair behind her ear and telling her it would be alright now.
By the time Ruby had run out of tears, the grounds had faded from twilight blue to a dreaming, sleeping black. A faerie stillness fell upon them; someone had stuck or charmed glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, and they shone with an almost eerie light. The girls stirred; a strange, reverent wakefulness had come over them.
Parvati mentioned a stash of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and some candles. They all lay on Lavender's bed, staring up at the starry ceiling and blowing bluebell-coloured bubbles that would hang about for days without popping.
Watching the bubbles float towards the ceiling was surprisingly soporific, and Ruby felt her eyelids grow heavier and heavier, the blackness behind them tugging her into a dark, dreamless sleep.
At that very moment, Mafalda was wondering who had meetings at nine on a Wednesday. Despite her misgivings, she reached for the note and felt the telltale unpleasant behind-belly-button-hook sensation of a Portkey. Her feet lifted from under her, and she was flung into the hallway of an unfamiliar house. The momentum carried her backwards, and Mafalda had to clutch at a nearby cabinet to catch herself.
Once she had gotten her bearings, Mafalda took in her surroundings: a nondescript hallway with inoffensive wood flooring and panelled white walls. I might have gotten myself into a trap here. There were pictures on the cabinet, and Mafalda reached for one.
Fear coursed through her.
A blonde girl of about fourteen sat in the foreground, staring fixedly at the camera with a stony expression and barely moving a muscle. Two older girls stood behind her, resting their hands on their younger sister's shoulders in a protective gesture, both tall and dark-haired, the elder one tossing her head back and laughing as if the photographer had just cracked a joke, and the younger smiling admiringly and affectionately at her.
The eldest sister, for certain, was Bellatrix Lestrange when she had been Bellatrix Black.
Her limbs trembled. Her veins ran ice-cold. This is it, Mafalda. Curiosity has finally killed the cat.
"You came!" said a voice.
Mafalda spun on her heel, flicking her wand from its holster and assuming a defensive position. The witch who had spoken held her hands up in surrender.
"Hello, Tonks," said Mafalda, relaxing and dropping her fighting posture. "You look very... fancy."
She did. Her short hair was a pale, gemstone pink instead of its usual vibrant bubblegum, and was sleek instead of spiky and shimmered in the light, and she was wearing something sparkly on her eyelids, along with spiky earrings and a necklace that Mafalda suspected was a black shoelace. Her ripped jeans and distressed Weird Sisters t-shirt under her robes only slightly ruined the attempt at looking somewhat formal.
Tonks grinned. "Well, when in Rome. Ready to go in?"
Still recovering from the shock, Mafalda nodded, and Tonks pushed a door open, beckoning her inside.
The main feature of the room was a long table, at which many people were already sitting, conversing loudly, the firelight reflecting off their faces.
"Am I late?" whispered Mafalda.
"No, but you're the only one who came by Portkey. Everyone else has been here before."
Tonks reached over the table, nearly tripped on the rug (which loudly called her a 'clumsy fool' in response), and tapped someone's glass with her wand. A magically enhanced peal emanated from it. The voices petered out, and everyone swivelled around to look at Mafalda and Tonks.
"Alright, everyone," said Tonks, putting a hand on Mafalda's shoulder. "This is Mafalda Prewett, please give her a warm welcome, and that doesn't mean trying to pawn off your stolen goods on her, by the way, Dung, though I'm pretty sure a lot of them have come through her office. Mafalda, this is the Order of the Phoenix."
The... The Order? Certainly, she'd heard of the legendary resistance network her uncles had been part of during the war. But being selected to join it was an honour beyond her wildest imaginings.
Then, the figure at the head of the table, silhouetted by the fireplace behind her, spoke; her voice had a distinctive and aristocratic coldness to it that Mafalda thought she had heard before.
"Dumbledore is at Hogwarts, and Alastor Moody is hunting down Dementors tonight; otherwise, they would be here. I welcome you, Mafalda Prewett."
A tall, stately witch stepped forward into the light. For a moment, a sharp twinge of fear went through Mafalda, thinking of the picture on the cabinet, but she realised it was not Bellatrix in their midst. Her hair was lighter and her eyes were softer, minute details differing like two artists' drawings of the same muse.
Andromeda Black. Or Tonks, I suppose. It must be her house; that explains the picture of the Black sisters.
Andromeda folded her hands in front of her. "Nymphadora, please close the door. It's drafty tonight."
Tonks grimaced at her mother's use of her full name but did so and then drew up a chair, motioning for Mafalda to do the same. Mafalda sat down, thinking that being the new girl in class was never a nice feeling.
Someone, thankfully, was lighting more candles, flooding the room with a soft, warm light.
The wizard on the other side of Mafalda, a shifty-looking fellow with matted ginger hair and a scraggly beard, asked, with an accompanied whiff of tobacco-and-firewhiskey-scented breath, if she was interested in buying Erumpent horns.
"Dung!" hissed Tonks. She had somehow turned her sclera black like an insect's or a demon's, and 'Dung' shrank back in fear.
"What's the update on the Dementors, Kingsley?" Andromeda was asking. Mafalda turned her head; it was Kingsley Shacklebolt, who she recognised from the 'Who's who' poster in front of the Auror Department, a tall, broad-shouldered wizard with a bald head and a small gold hoop earring that set off his lapis lazuli robes.
"Not good at all," he said in a strangely reassuring tone. "With curfews and other preventative measures, we've managed to slow Kisses to a rate where the Healers at St. Mungo's can just about handle it, but no real change."
Someone further down the table snorted, a witch with an emerald shawl draped around her shoulders. "Real change won't happen until You-Know-Who calls them off."
"The question is, what's the price?"
Mafalda stilled when everyone turned to look at her, just then realising that she had spoken aloud. "I mean," she went on feebly. "He's got to want something, hasn't he?"
"Or perhaps he's killing us for sport, for the fun of it," someone else suggested.
Instantly, the room filled with chatter, whispered voices quickly escalating to raised voices, growing more and more frantic, until Andromeda leapt to her feet, with a steel look in her eyes that made her resemble Bellatrix even more, stood up and yelled, "QUIET!"
Silence descended upon them.
"It is evident to me," said Andromeda, still standing, "that he intends to destabilise the shaky bureaucracy upon which Wizarding Britain rests. It is already crumbling — we are already crumbling. My sister, doubtlessly at his behest—" The bitterness in her voice was evident "—whispers into the Minister's ear. It is a foregone conclusion. The Ministry is lost, and we know that the Dark Lord controls the Dementors."
She still calls him by that name, thought Mafalda. I suppose her family were — are his followers.
Andromeda took a deep breath, staring down at the table and exhaling shakily. She looked up, her expression unreadable.
"Mad-Eye Moody and I discussed it last night; he agreed I should tell you, and this is why you are all here." Her gaze darted down the table, making eye contact with everyone there. "We are already on the back foot, and, as I'm sure you all know, a strong offence is the surest defence. And that is why we need to strike first."
A/N: I had to Google 'how to read tea leaves' and 'horse ear positions moods.' The things you come across when researching fics...
Anybody figured out how the poison works yet?