Chapter 19

16 hours earlier

V,

Front gates of Hogwarts, tonight at midnight. I will explain everything.

Please. I am so sorry.

-E

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of her lungs at once. She could only stare dumbly at the letter in front of her, trying to come up with a plausible scenario, or even any scenario in which the words written on the page made sense.

It was his handwriting. Eli's barely legible chicken scratch. His distinctively right leaning letters.

But it had to be a trick right? Someone playing a cruel joke on her. Surely that was the more plausible explanation. Surely her dead brother, whose mangled body had been too destroyed to even bury had not returned to the land of the living, tracked her down at Hogwarts, and sent her a letter asking to meet him that night.

And yet. Here it was. On the page clear as day.

Could it be him? Was there any possible way that this was actually her brother speaking with her? Despite the fact that she had watched him fall to his death with her own eyes? Sure she lived in a world of magic but this was beyond the scope of even the darkest blood magic spell she could think of. The dead did not rise, according to every rule she had been taught.

But who would send her this if not him? Lizette certainly wouldn't do this to her. The Elders wouldn't do this to her. Evander, even on his worst day, wouldn't do this to her.

Hell, even Canmore wouldn't do this to her. Neither of them had mentioned Eli in any of their letters. It was a rather awkward topic within the extended family before she had left for Hogwarts, and remained a subject everyone seemed to entirely avoid if at all possible. Following Canmore's lead, she had opted to avoid the topic as well, although he had barely given her room to bring the matter up in the first place. The man was very focused on Dumbledore. For some reason or another he wanted her to at the very least keep tabs on the headmaster. He had also not provided her with anything of note regarding her parents. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was apparent that she was not going to get anything good until she gave him something good in return, a task she had been unable to accomplish even if she had wanted to due to the fact that she and the headmaster almost never crossed paths.

No it wouldn't make sense for Canmore to pose as her brother, especially not when he was trying to use her to his advantage. Which brought her right back to the same question: could this be Eli? Could he somehow, despite all rational thought and all evidence pointing otherwise, be alive?

She had to know, before she went and met with whoever this writer was in the middle of the night, she had to find out if there was at least a possibility that this could actually be her brother. She would compare his handwriting, do a tracking spell with the few of his belongings she carried with her. Something, anything that would shine some light on what the hell was going on.

Quickly, she extracted herself from the breakfast table, mumbling some excuse about feeling ill that she barely heard herself say, her hands shaking while she gathered her belongings. Her whole body was trembling as she made her way out of the Great Hall and her mind was whirling even as she removed herself from a confrontation with George, who had followed her trying to make sure she was all right. She would regret her harsh words to him later, but right now she could barely think about anything beyond the task that lay in front of her.

When she got to her dorm, her mind was moving a hundred miles a minute while her body worked on autopilot, retrieving scraps of notes Eli had written her before he'd died, hunting in her trunk for the notebooks with her written dark spells, gathered from years of eavesdropping on family and studying old books the elders had definitely meant to lock away.

At the very bottom of her trunk was an ancient leather bound book she had wrapped in an old scarf. This was a book she rarely looked for, containing spells for magic so dark that even she was hesitant to mess with, and found while going through her parents' things several months after they had disappeared.

She had felt the black energy radiating from its bound pages that day, the dark tendrils of its spells reaching out, trying to cling onto the magic within her as its source of power. She had never experienced an object like that before, as though the book itself had come to life and was begging her to browse its contents. It had frightened her of course, but another part of her had been excited, thrilled even at the prospect of such a dangerous find. It was that reason that she had taken the book back to her bedroom with her, wrapping it tightly in one of her scarves and hiding it underneath a pile of sweaters in her dresser drawer, rather than bringing the book to her brother, who undoubtedly would have taken it far, far away from her.

On any other day, in any other circumstance, she wouldn't have even considered it an option, but Eli was a talented wizard. A talented wizard who knew all her tricks, and (almost) all her secrets. If he was alive, perhaps in hiding, he would know how to stay hidden–from her, from the elders, from anyone. She feared that even the darkest spell in her handwritten notebook would do little at gaining her the answers she was after.

And so, she tucked the book under her arm, along with the pile of papers and notebooks she had gathered, swiftly making her way out of the Gryffindor common room and towards the dungeons. In her secret room below, she got to work setting up. If she could track him down she would know for sure if he was alive.

For the next several hours she worked, testing every tracking spell, every summoning charm, and every dark enchantment she could think of but, much to her displeasure, she was turning up empty. Despite her perfect execution and pronunciation of the spells and despite slicing both her forearms up to the obscene degree required to satiate the blood magic, she was turning up empty again and again. Her tracking spells only showed her screens of static, her charms bounced off the walls, her enchantments had no effect–all getting her no closer to the truth.

After a particularly gruesome spell that had taken her the better part of an hour and had aggravatingly fizzled out within seconds marking yet another failure, she was beginning to lose hope. Briefly she considered if she should just meet up with the mysterious letter writer blindly. Although all her basic instincts were telling her it was a ridiculously stupid idea to do so, her desperation was beginning to outweigh her fear.

With a frustrated scream, she smacked her arm against the overflowing bowl, sending its bloody contents splashing onto the wall like some kind of gory work of art. Panting slightly, she turned back, pressing her hands against the cold marble of the table to try and steady herself.

He was always smarter than her, far better at their craft than she could ever hope to be. He would know how to hide from her, from anyone if he had really wanted to. Perhaps it was time for the nuclear option after all.

She took a deep breath, digging through her apothecary kit for the roll of bandages she kept there before messily wrapping her forearms as best as she could. Eventually the cuts will need to be dealt with, given a powerful healing salve or they would take months to heal, but that was a task for the future.

There was one last option she had yet to exhaust. One final avenue of dark magic, so abhorrent that even she in the back of her mind knew was a step too far. But she was already over the line now, her last thread of common sense had been snapped the second she received a letter from her dead brother.

Calmer than she had been all day, she pulled the worn leather book towards her, settling herself crossed legged on the stone ground and flipping to the last several pages. Past the pages where in hundreds of languages were written warnings, advising the reader to proceed with caution, that the magic laced in the following pages were not to be trifled with or gazed upon lightly, until she rested on a nearly empty page. Displayed was the vaguest outline of a handprint, really only a shadow of dirt and grime left by centuries of hands using the book before her. Beneath the print, was one word, hand written in simple black ink: Kashia. The Aramaic word for Question.

She had never even looked at these pages before today, but without knowing exactly how, she was sure that this was the page she needed. Its putrid magic was calling to the most vulnerable parts of her, inviting her to place her hand on its page and speak aloud the word that who knows how many desperate souls before her had spoken.

Taking a deep breath once more, she let her fingertips trace the handprint, giving herself one last chance to back out, one last chance to fear the consequences of her potential actions more than the possibility of not getting answers, but she found that that fear did not come to her. She had already passed the point of no return as far as she was concerned.

Exhaling a final time, she pressed her palm flat against the book, adding her own invisible addition to the layers of dirt on the page before calmly speaking the spell's word before any doubt could creep into her mind.

At first nothing happened, seconds ticking by where Vivian didn't dare to so much as breathe, her heart beating furiously in her ears while she waited for…something, she wasn't quite sure what.

Nearly thirty seconds had gone by, her brow furrowed wondering if she had somehow missed a key step in this spell when suddenly and without any warning a searing pain shot through the hand pressed to the book, up her arm, and through the entirety of her body. Her jaw clenched shut, her teeth drawing blood from her tongue and lips while she tried to silence the scream that had begun to work its way out of her throat. She knew if she started screaming, she would never be able to stop.

Had she not been looking down at her body, she would have been positive that every one of her bones was being meticulously broken, one by one as the magic made its way through her. It felt as though every molecule of her body had been set on fire. She could no longer move or breathe, every one of her muscles and organs protesting their agony.

She attempted to pull her hand away from the book no longer praying for answers but rather for rescue or death or anything that would put an end to this torment but her body had stopped cooperating with her, keeping her hand pressed firmly into the ancient pages, refusing to acknowledge her commands. Her vision started to fade, black spots floating in front of her while each of her cells seemed to be biting and ripping away at the others, the invisible fire pushing them into a frenzy they had never experienced.

Whatever she had been looking for that had brought her here, she could no longer recall, the final intelligent thought her brain could muster up being that this must be what dying felt like. Pain pain pain took over her thoughts, repeating calmly and without care like a steady drum.

And then, just as quickly as it had started, the pain vanished. Her crushed bones reset themselves, her rigid muscles relaxing, her burned away skin returning.

She was unsure when she had shut her eyes, but finally opening them, she was greeted by red. It seemed the state of the universe had changed, turning into a world where the only state of being was in this tiny, windowless room the color of blood. Somehow despite the physical ordeal she had just been through, her palm had stayed firmly on the book, still open to the simple page in front of her.

Disoriented, she tried to get her bearings, moving to stand on her unsteady legs before a gravelly voice echoing off the monochromatic walls stilled her.

"I wouldn't move much if I were you," the voice told her, the sound unpleasantly croaking out at her as if the words alone pained the speaker to utter. "The book is the only thing keeping your body alive right now."

Slumping back down into a half sitting, half lying position she twisted around best she could while still touching the book, her head whipping back and forth trying to locate the source of the voice.

"Where…where am I?" she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

The voice only laughed, or made a sound that she thought was meant to be a laugh, its icy cackle bouncing off the four red walls, somehow sounding miles away and right in her ear at once.

"Who are you?" she tried again, her own voice shaking as a new kind of fear began to take over her. Was that spell a trap? This red room, a prison cell? She had been stupid, so, so stupid to trust such dark magic.

"Don't you know?" the voice said, mocking her fear. "You are the one who came to me after all."

"I-I'm looking for my brother."

"Yes yes you want to know if our dear Eli is alive or not," the voice drawled, its mocking tone curling itself through her ears.

"Is he?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper now, a pathetic flower of hope blooming in her chest for the briefest of moments.

The voice just laughed at her once again, taking great pleasure in the desperation that had led to their meeting.

"Please!" she begged, feeling herself nearing tears while the unseen creature jeered at her. "I just need to know if he actually wrote the letter."

The voice's laughter faded, quieting into a hum, considering her words and weighing its options.

"And what will you give me in return?" it finally asked.

"Anything! My family has money I can-"

The voice's cruel laughter once again interrupted her frantic words, the mocking nature never leaving the sound.

"What use have I for money here?" it asked her.

"Okay," she huffed, feeling a flare of annoyance heat up her face. "Then what do you want?"

"Years," it replied simply.

"What?"

"Of your life. I want them," though the voice had no face that she could see, Vivian was certain that the mouth its words originated from was twisted into a malicious grin.

"I don't understand," she responded, a bad feeling beginning to take root in her bones. A cold fear that she understood exactly what the voice was asking for.

"It's very simple. However many years you are set to live naturally, I would like some for myself. In exchange for your answer of course."

She swallowed, the hand that was still pressed to the page of the book beginning to sweat from the extended contact.

"And how do you know how many years I'm set to live?" she questioned, trying to poke holes in the invisible creature's plan. "How can you know the future like that?"

Laughter once again bounced off the walls, echoing madly in her ears, loud enough to make her press her head into her knees in a feeble attempt to block out the sound.

"I know everything," it was suddenly right next to her ear, its sinister voice reduced to a whisper. "That's why you came to me for help."

She jumped at the closeness of the sound, her heart beating wildly as she considered her options. This was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea brought to her by a very untrustworthy party. Giving up years of her life meant dying sooner. It meant tying her soul to a deal made in dark magic, a spell so heinous even the black magic book it rested in spent pages trying to warn its readers not to use it. It also meant doing something Eli would be disgusted with. He had spent their lives trying to save her, the very last thing he would ever want was for her to give up even a portion of her life to this invisible beast and especially not for his sake.

She knew all of this. But she had to be sure it was truly Eli that sent her the letter. Handwriting can be forged with charms, appearances can be altered with polyjuice. If her eyes had betrayed her once when she saw the alleged Eli fall to his death, they could betray her once more with his supposed resurrection. She knew all of this and she also knew she had come too far to back out now. The very ugly side that existed in her knew that she would even go much farther if she had to.

"How many?" she asked finally, her voice coming out surprisingly steady despite the circumstances.

This time the voice's laugh came out as a shriek, a predator delighting in its caught prey.

"Fifteen years," it giggled, its voice winding its way around the tiny space, "Fifteen years and you will have your answer."

She shut her eyes tightly, biting down on her lips until she once again tasted the metallic sting of blood coating her mouth.

"Deal," she said, opening her eyes, surprised to hear the faintest hint of determination in her voice.

More of its sinister giggles filled the room, seeming to bounce off the walls in all directions as she swivelled her head around, trying once again to catch a glimpse of anything in her presence. The volume of the laughter began to increase, a sharp pain stabbing into her chest. Her screams of pain melded with the maniacal laughs as the stabbing began to break past her sternum, forcing its way into her chest cavity. Her screams turned silent, hot tears running down her face as an invisible claw seemed to wrap its talons around her heart, squeezing until she saw the black spots again start to cloud her vision.

And then, much like the pain before, this agony too stopped just as suddenly as it had started leaving her slumped over the evil book that had brought her here. The only sound breaking the silence for the next several minutes was her panicked breathing as the red room she sat in remained eerily silent.

"It seems brother Eli is very much alive," the voice had suddenly returned, its jovial tone making her flinch.

"How-how is that possible?" she asked, her brain working to process this new fact that she mere hours ago never would have imagined even in her wildest dreams.

"I can answer that for you," the voice said, its laughter once again filling the room, taunting her. "For another fifteen years."

"No!" she yelled quickly, panicked more at the prospect of undergoing that pain again than by cutting her life even shorter. "I want to go, please let me leave."

"Certainly," it said, laughing at her cowardice. "Until next time."

And then she was suddenly gasping awake, her eyes flying open to find herself once again in the stone dungeon room, slumped face down over the book. The wounds on her arms had leaked through her bandages and the blood she had flung in a rage onto the opposite wall had dried, indicating the at least several hours she had been between worlds.

Breathing heavily, she used the marble table to pull herself into a semi standing position, leaning most of her weight against her hands as she struggled to make sense of what had just happened.

She had never been a religious person–no wizard was–but you don't grow up in Chicago without getting at least a taste of Catholicism. She had heard the stories of God, the devil, Heaven, and Hell from her more religious nomaj friends. She had never felt the call to any faith like some do, but in that moment she could say one thing with certainty: if there was a Hell, if there was a Devil waiting in the shadows to corrupt innocent souls, it was that red room. It was that disembodied voice, eternally laughing at the pain of the living.

That laughter that would be haunting her dreams for the rest of her life.

But right now that didn't matter. At all.

Her brother was alive. Eli was alive. And, from a quick glance at her watch, wanted to meet her at Hogwarts' front gates in just under an hour. A short burst of manic laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation escaped her. Letters from the dead, making deals with devils, secret midnight meetings–how could it be that this had all happened within the same twenty four hours that she had been planning a summer visit to George's house.

Fuck. George.

She had been so mean to him that morning, all but telling him to fuck off when he had tried to check on her then disappearing for the entire day. He was probably so worried right now, he always worried about her.

He would be disgusted to find out what she had been doing all day, she suddenly realized. He and Eli would both be beyond horrified if they ever learned what she had given up in that time. They would be furious. George would probably never want to speak to her again. They were so afraid of dark magic in this country, there's no way he would want a girlfriend who so easily gave in to evils like what she had just faced. He might even tell the others if he was upset enough and they would all ostracize her too, there wasn't a doubt in her mind. They might even think of her as no better than the Deatheaters, she told herself.

No, this would be her secret to take to the grave. Sooner than anticipated now she thought, cringing slightly at the macabre humor.

Shaking her head in an attempt to brush away the disturbed thoughts clouding her mind, she started gathering the books and papers she had brought with her, minus the ancient leather book she had been most recently working with. Shutting the book's cover with her foot, she gave it a gentle kick, sending it skidding towards the far corner of the room. She wanted to be as far away from it as possible, at least for the remainder of the night. Perhaps she would even go so far as getting rid of the book altogether, destroy it, burn it–whatever she had to do.

But that would be a task for a later date. For right now, she had a far greater matter to attend to.

0-0

In front of Hogwarts gates, she paced, feeling a level of anxiety and panic she had never reached before. Bile in her empty stomach was threatening to move upwards, as she fought to keep her breathing under control.

11:55, she had gotten there early, having snuck past her sleeping roommates to avoid any further questions regarding where she had been that day and where she was going now. Though of course, she had been unable to avoid running into George who had not bothered hiding his displeasure with her, not that she could really blame him. It was going to be one hell of a conversation catching him up to speed once this was all over like she'd promised she would, but again one problem at a time.

12:05, no sign of Eli, or anyone for that matter. Panic was rising and her breathing began to verge on hyperventilating, if something didn't happen soon, she was sure she was going to pass out. As a distraction she worked on dismantling the locking charms within the school's gate, a task that only took a few minutes, much to her annoyance. Maybe this place wasn't the fortress it was rumored to be.

12:15, tears were beginning to prickle her eyes. Maybe it was all just a joke after all. A cruel trick just to see if she would be foolish enough to fall for it. Maybe that horrible voice in the red room was in on it, lying to her about her brother being alive. Maybe–

"Vivian?" she jumped, whirling around to face the new arrival, working to fight off the rush of anxiety she felt at the sound of her name. Her eyes darted around the darkness, unsure where the voice had come from, when suddenly the sound of a few sticks breaking, the rustle of a bush and there he was, her brother–looking several years older, with exhaustion lining his face and a vaguely defeated look in his eyes but her brother all the same.

"Eli?" she croaked after a couple beats of silence where she struggled to find her voice. "Is it actually you?"

"It's me," he confirmed, the corners of his mouth lifting briefly into the tiniest smile. His hair had gotten longer since she had last seen him, his black curls now falling just below his chin. His previously muscular build had also leaned out and his skin had paled like he had spent the last few years sitting indoors giving him an almost frail appearance that he had never possessed before.

"Oh my god," she whispered, rushing towards him and wrapping her arms around his torso. She was fully crying now, pressing her face into his jacket as he pulled her in closer. She had never clung on to someone so tightly, worried that if she loosened her grip even a little bit he would slip through her fingers, disappearing from her life once again.

They stayed like that for nearly a minute, both of them crying before she felt herself go rigid, a white hot anger washing over her. Pushing herself away from him it was like her mind went black, rage and betrayal shoving themselves into the forefront of her emotions. Before she could stop herself, her arm had swung back and her fist had collided squarely with her brother's eye sending him stumbling backwards clutching his face.

"Fuck Vivie! When the hell did you get such a mean left hook?" Eli groaned, lightly rubbing the already forming bruise on his face.

"HOW THE FUCK COULD YOU DO THAT TO ME?!" she screamed, not caring if she woke the entire castle in her rage.

"I know I know, I'm sorry-"

"Start talking right now," she commanded, fighting to keep her anger under control she crossed her arms to stop her hands from shaking while she stared at him expectantly.

"I had to!" he grabbed her shoulders, giving her a light shake with eyes that begged her to understand. "Canmore was losing it. He was talking about messing with the other families, exposing ourselves to the nomajs, he wanted to take over the whole country. He wanted me to lead his army. I had to leave or I would have been so fucked, Vivian!"

"So why not just leave? Why fake your death?" she shook her head at him, struggling to follow the string of bombshells he had just dropped.

"The things I've done for him, the things I've seen? You really think he would have just let me walk away?"

No he wouldn't have. Vivian was barely involved and even her departure had been a source of slight contention among members. She had only breathed a sigh of relief upon entering the doors of Hogwarts, finally confident no one was going to show up and drag her back home at the last minute.

"Well what about me?" she asked, feeling pathetic even as she said it. "Why not tell me the plan and bring me with you?"

"Are you kidding me? You were fourteen years old, I'm not gonna force you to go on the run with me, hiding out for years on end! That's no way for a kid to live."

"You wouldn't have been forcing me," her lip wobbled while tears once again threatened to spill. "So they were so horrible that you had to fake your death but you were just fine leaving me with them?"

"Of course not!" his grip on her shoulders tightened. "I planned on getting you to Hogwarts the entire time, I just needed to wait until enough time had passed so no one was suspicious."

"You wanted me to come here? You sent me that note?" she backed out of his grasp dumbfounded, in less than twenty four hours it seemed that everything she knew to be true had suddenly been turned on its head.

"Yes," he nodded emphatically. "Dumbledore told me he'd be able to watch over you at Hogwarts. He's the one that helped me escape."

"Wha–how?" she gaped at him, wondering if she maybe was actually dreaming after all.

"It was around a year after mom and dad left. I was alone in a bar–depressed out of my mind that this was going to be the rest of my life and then all of a sudden he was standing in front of me. I have no idea how he knew I wanted out or even who I was but he saved me, Vivie. He saved us."

Vivian considered his words, unsure what motivations the headmaster could have had to involve himself in their lives. She had never heard the man's name before coming to Hogwarts but apparently everyone else in her family had been more than familiar with him for some time. Was it possible that Dumbledore kept tabs on all of them, interjecting himself when he noticed a less loyal member?

No matter how she turned the information in her mind, she couldn't come up with a plausible scenario that would explain Dumbledore seeking her brother out in the manner he had. Sure Eli had gotten close to Canmore in the previous few years and sure it seemed that Dumbledore and their High Elder had history of some kind or another, but at the end of the day her brother and herself were wholly insignificant. Why take the risk of pissing off a family such as theirs in the way he had?

"But I watched you die, Eli. I saw you fall."

Eli winced, looking away from her for the first time that night, a flash of shame crossing his face.

"That was a coma patient we fed polyjuice potion to. Dumbledore was on the roof with him then let him fall once enough witnesses had gathered. I was long gone by then. But I never wanted you to see that, you have to believe me I had no idea they were going to contact you before it happened."

She scoffed at him, wrapping her arms around herself and unsure which part of this story disturbed her the most.

"So you two killed a guy?"

"He was brain dead, Vivian, his family had pulled the plug. We basically just used his body."

"Is that really any better?" she gave him a disbelieving look. The brother she knew would have thought twice before sending an innocent person off a rooftop, or at least that's what she had always believed to be the case.

"Can you just–" his exhausted voice sounded near tears before he sighed, cutting himself off as he ran a hand over his face. He sat down on the grass, his arms draping over his knees before he looked back up at her. "Look I know all of this is really fucked up okay? But I felt like it was our only option. Dumbledore was offering me a golden ticket out, I had to take it."

She sighed, spending a few minutes looking up at the stars before moving to sit next to him on the grass.

"All this time I've been…and christ it wasn't even you," all the panic attacks, all the nightmares, all the much too vivid flashes of blood splattered on a sidewalk and the fall she witnessed hadn't even been her brother. The trauma she'd endured, the very worst day of her life and it had all been a total lie.

"I am so sorry. So, so sorry, Vivie," he said, his tone sounding desperate enough for her to look him in the eye once again. "I will spend the rest of my life trying to make this up to you, I swear."

She looked at him, doing her best to stop the flow of tears that had been steadily leaking from her eyes for the last several minutes. She wanted to be angrier. She wanted to shove him away, tell him she never wanted to see him again, that his actions were unforgivable and a betrayal they could never come back from.

But she couldn't. As she looked into her older brother's eyes, his eyes that looked so much like her own, she simply could not fathom a world in which she turned him away. Twenty four hours ago she had no one, no true family to speak of. And now it seemed life was awarding her a rare second chance. Who was she to spit in its face?

They sat in silence for several minutes, losing track of time as she mulled over her thoughts until eventually she nodded, giving him a small smile in a sign of forgiveness. Not total forgiveness of course, Eli would have to work hard to even come close to making this up to her, but for now she was willing to try.

"Okay," she said finally, mostly to herself. "What happens now?"

Eli's face broke out into a grin, the first smile she had seen on him all night and his shoulders sank with what could only be relief. In half a second he appeared ten years younger, joy lighting up his features for the first time in what must have been a long time. He opened his mouth to respond but before he could get a word out, a jeering voice interrupted, cutting through the quiet of the night.

"Well this is just lovely."