O
APATE
Lies
Teddy. We need to talk. It's urgent.
The message came from Clara, and urgent with Clara could mean anything from a spelling mistake in an Magizoologist article to a forthcoming leg amputation. Nevertheless Teddy sent back a reply at once telling her to come round when she could. She appeared within minutes, curls standing on end, eyes darting as they tended to when she was flustered. She got to the point.
"I know you go back to St Mungo's tomorrow and I'm sorry to add to your worries, but I've found out how Cavendish knew about your hearing."
"Oh Merlin." Teddy had not given two thoughts to the leak, busy as he had been preparing his statement, and now psyching himself up for returning to work. "Do I want to know?"
"You need to."
Uncomprehending, he listened as Clara launched into an explanation of how she had gone on at Cavendish daily, wheedling and persuading that it could do no harm. Finally, once the hearing was over and Teddy had been confirmed as OK to remain in work, he had relaxed protocol to shut her up and told her how he had come to know about Teddy's disciplinary.
"-at the start of February, he received a copy of your hearing summons. An exact replica of the date, time and basic reasons for the disciplinary action."
"Send anonymously, I presume?"
"Sort of. But also... not exactly."
Accustomed though he was to Clara speaking in riddles when she was stressed, he had limited patience with it today. She caught sight of his terse expression and pulled herself together.
"Cavendish kept the envelope the information came in and he showed that to me too. I - er - duplicated it when his back was turned. I know I shouldn't have but I don't care. You need to see it."
Teddy stretched out a hand to take it from her, heart pounding as his nose picked up the faintest scent of jasmine. The thick envelope with minuscule purple specs, a tiny fairy logo in the corner with Fée extraordinaire stamped across the wing. On the front, in horribly familiar yet beautiful french cursive handwriting was written Norman Cavendish. Daily Prophet.
"You are not suggesting what I think you are."
She held up her hands.
"I haven't suggested anything Teddy. I've brought you the only piece of evidence I could get my hands on."
"Clara, there's no way. Vic wouldn't do that."
"I don't believe it either, and there won't be a straightforward explanation, whatever has happened. But do you know anyone else who uses envelopes like that? With perfect French handwriting?"
Other than his Aunt, who hadn't even known about his hearing until the release to the press, he did not.
"They are very distinctive though," he objected. "Everyone knows that she uses this stationary. Someone could have bought this by mail order, copied her handwriting. To cause-"
There was no point even finishing the nonsensical sentence. The letter had been in Cavendish's private files for weeks, and he was only looking at it now because of Clara's relentless persistence. If someone had ill intentions to cause trouble for him and lay the blame on Victoire, why do it through a secret medium which only one person would receive? Sensing he did not need this spelt out for him, Clara watched him in silent distress.
"Look, I'll leave you to your thoughts for a bit. I'd recommend destroying the envelope - and I won't tell anyone, obviously. Call on me if you need anything." She dithered. "I'm really sorry Teddy. I was only trying to help."
"I know." He reached out to squeeze her hand. "I appreciate it. It's better you told me, whatever the explanation."
Clara left and Teddy retreated upstairs. Agitated, he pulled open his desk drawer and retrieved the bundle of letters he kept tucked safely in there. A culmination of all the correspondence he had received from Victoire, both during their relationship and before. All written on similar, purple speckled paper. All displaying pin neat, curly joined up handwriting. He compared them, willing his eyes to find the tiniest difference in format or handwriting to the one Clara had given him.
There was none.
A simple, silent vanishing spell and the evidence Clara had brought was gone. The memory of it would not be erased so easily.
"Vic," he whispered, leaning forwards to rest his head on his arms. "What's going on?"
oOo
April
How did one broach the topic of their long term girlfriend selling him out to the national paper and not sound accusatory? Teddy was at a loss. It felt like a betrayal to discuss the latest development with Jessye, and he couldn't face the stress of raising it again with Clara. Therefore he was on his own in making a decision.
They were less than ideal conditions in which to return to work, with the obvious upside that he would have more of a chance to keep an eye on Victoire and maybe find a window of opportunity to overcome the glaring but silent obstacle now sitting between them.
The pattern of his thought process repeated itself on a loop throughout the week. He would wake up determined to find a time to sit down with her and tell her about the envelope, albeit calmly and with reassurance that he knew it was a mistake and that he was seeking a plausible explanation. Every day kept him occupied with meetings, reconfiguration of his old lab space, getting his head back into research that he had not done since December of the previous year. For her part, Victoire was kept busier than ever, Green working her at every spare minute, and so by dinner time they had no energy to do anything but curl up on the sofa listening to the wireless. Every night, by bedtime, Teddy's resolve had faded to nothing.
He had vague plans to do it over a private dinner on Friday, but Vic came home with such a bad headache that she couldn't even stomach toast and water, and so he put her to bed and held her hand until she drifted into an uncomfortable sleep, staring sadly down at her strained face and reformulating the 'talk' plan yet again. Saturday would be a no go as they had Dougal, Clara and Jessye coming round for his birthday celebration. A very low key affair with a few card games and drinks, but not one that he wanted to blight with a horrible, awkward conversation. It would have to be Sunday. Vic wasn't working until her set of night shifts started on Monday. They could go for a walk down the beach and he would face the truth and whatever consequences came with it.
Yes. Sunday. He would enjoy his birthday and bite the bullet the next day.
O
But Sunday too was a write off. Dougal turned up on the Saturday evening with an enormous bottle of firewhisky, glasses of which he pressed on Teddy over and over again for increasingly ridiculous reasons. The upshot was that Teddy awoke at eleven o'clock on Sunday, dry mouth and pounding head, the last few hours of the night a total black out. He lay there for what might have been seconds, yet may also have been hours - he really didn't know - before the familiar voice crashed through his skull. Lovely as he normally found it, today her simple 'good morning' was enough to induce a wave of nausea.
"How are you feeling?" she murmured, placing a glass of water on night stand.
He managed a feeble groan and she chuckled.
"Figured. You were on fine form last night."
"Oh god. What happened?"
"I think Dougal can be blamed for most of it. Although you didn't have to accept every drink he poured you." Her eyebrows twitched in a reproving expression.
"Did I really embarrass myself?"
She did laugh at this. "Not unduly," she said. "You were quite sweet, you just kept rambling on about how much you loved us all and how grateful you were to have got your job back."
Did I try and initiate the conversation? Aghast, and a little more alert, Teddy sat up straighter and racked his brains to try and illuminate the slightest shred of memory. It remained a pitch black hole. If he had taken the coward's way out and chosen to talk to Victoire while drunk he would be livid with himself.
"I didn't say anything...bad?" he persisted, watching intently, even while his head pounded, for signs of unease or tension in her demeanour. Surely he would know if he had.
"Teddy, relax. You were fine." Her bright smile shone back at him, despite the strain that had been present in her eyes for months. "You were funny, that's all. It was your birthday and you're allowed to celebrate! God knows we could all do with a laugh at the moment." She appeared normal - or as normal as she had been in recent weeks - and he relaxed a tad. If he had mentioned the envelope, he would know.
O
It was still too close a call for comfort, one that Teddy couldn't risk happening again. Vic would be on night shifts until Thursday night, so it would have to be the Friday.
No more excuses.
On Friday, he was in work by six-thirty, determined to get as much work done as possible in the early hours. Vic would be going home to sleep any minute, but should be awake by three. She then had a night off the following evening, which would leave time for any repercussions of the conversation.
Jessye, also working early, came to find him shortly after he had clocked in.
"Breakfast?"
"Maybe later. I'm not hungry." This was true. Despite regular rehearsals of how he was going to broach the topic, the mere word envelope was inducing nausea each time he thought of it. Vic had seemed more animated since his birthday night, and he was beginning to wonder if her ups and downs were purely down to cabin fever and lack of socialising in recent weeks. But the E word still had no plausible explanation.
"You can't still be hungover?" Jessye's eyes sparkled. "Even Dougal's firewhiskey fades from the system at some point."
"Urgh don't remind me." The mere memory of the shots towards the end of the night brought more bile to a Teddy's throat. "Don't think I've ever been that drunk."
"Yes, a fair assessment." She laughed again before solemnity set in.
"Is everything OK? You've been quiet the last few days and it's not like you to drink that much."
He considered confiding in her for a split second. He would have loved to talk to someone and she was so solid, compassionate and rational. But, much as he loved Jessye, Victoire came first. He had made enough excuses already.
"All fine thanks. Taking a while to build up momentum, that's all."
"I can imagine! I'll let you get on." Jessye said. "Coffee later though?"
"Sounds great."
Right. Focus time. Teddy pulled his graphs towards him, mapping out his forthcoming experiment. It would be the first since the curse outbreak and he had high hopes for it. Five neat graphs mapped out exactly what order the cells would be tested. The chart next to it was ready for the results to be recorded with impeccable precision. All he needed was-
"Teddy!" Jessye came crashing back in only minutes after her departure, eyes wide and face panic stricken. "It's Vic."
O
It was Hestia's office to which Jessye dragged him along the corridor, but Teddy was barely aware of his surroundings as they entered the room. Victoire was sitting on a chair in front of Hestia's desk, while the older witch held her wand aloft and muttered a string of indecipherable incantations. Vic showed no signs of recognition as Jessye pulled Teddy inside and launched into an explanation. She had gone back to the her office prior to getting her breakfast and had bumped into Victoire coming out the door with a large file under arm. Closer inspection had revealed it to be the file in which Jessye kept all her notes on blood magenes and the effects of the curse on them. She had been updating it the previous afternoon.
"I asked her why she had it," Jessye whispered. "She couldn't tell me. She wasn't defensive or full of excuses. She simply couldn't tell me, stayed calm, said it must be a mistake and she should get back to work. Luckily Hestia came along at that moment otherwise I'm not sure what I'd have done."
Teddy's did not take her eyes off his girlfriend even while digesting Jessye's words.
"So what now?"
"Hestia's checking for the Imperious Curse."
The Imperious Curse.
The three words crashed through Teddy's skull with the force of a knife stab.
It made sense. At least to explain her actions. What made zero sense was why it hadn't been Teddy's first thought when Clara had shown him the envelope last week. How many times had he sat listening to tales from his parents war time days, stories of wizards who had been cursed and the actions they had been forced to take against their will. Due to the recognition of Imperium Fraud, the age old curse had lost favour with dark wizards since The Surge, and he could not for the life of him work out how Victoire could have been in receipt of it over the past few months. That could not excuse his lack of foresight on the subject.
"For fuck's sake," he muttered to himself. "I'm such an idiot. I should have thought of this."
"How on earth is this your fault?" Jessye's tone was sharp. She didn't know the half of it and now was not the time to tell her, so Teddy watched in anguish as Hestia continued to mutter, extracting unknown information from Victoire. She sat like a doll, blue eyes wider than ever, shoulders stiff and mouth set in a thin line.
"Imperious Curse," Hestia confirmed, minutes later. "I'm sure."
Teddy let out a groan into his hands.
"Since when?"
"End of January to start of February would be my estimate. No later and certainly not before Christmas."
The time when Jessye had started raising her own concerns about Vic. The time when her behaviour had switched from harassed and downtrodden to uncharacteristically snappish and moody. And the time the details of his hearing had been leaked to the press. Why, why why had he not asked more questions, made it his mission to find out exactly what was the problem, instead of assuming she was stressed because of her job?
He had sunk down beside her now.
"Can I touch her?" He gestured to her hand.
"Yes, of course. She won't respond. I've put her in the trance so we can decide what to do next."
Teddy reached out to take her hand, guilt and frustration still rife within him.
Imperious.
The Imperious Curse.
"Here is the dilemma," Hestia said, and Teddy tuned into her practical tone with relief. "As soon as the curse is removed, the memories contained within it will start to fade. Victoire may remember fragments of the past two months or she may remember nothing. It is impossible to say as it affects everyone to different degrees. There is a spell I can cast at the same time, which would force her to remember what happened in those weeks. If you feel it is appropriate, I can try that."
Teddy bit his lip and squeezed Victoire's hand a little tighter.
"What are the risks?"
"On her physical health, none at all," Hestia assured him. "But it is an invasive process. It will cause her some distress."
"It'll help her remember why she in the Magienetics department and who she was getting the information for?"
"It might. No guarantees. I can lift the spell at any time, if necessary."
"Then we should try," Teddy said. "If it might help. Vic would want to know who did this."
A murmur of agreement came from Jessye and Hestia did not raise further objections, which told Teddy that she agreed it to be the right course of action as well.
"Stay sitting with her," she directed. "Your presence will be the most familiar and it will help. Jessye, could you make sure that Victoire has clocked out of her ward please, and take care of it if she hasn't. Use this." She handed her a small white slip of card that Teddy knew contained Hestia's access codes. "This needs to be kept under wraps until we've informed Kinglsey and Higgs."
Jessye sped off at once and Hestia turned her attention back to Victoire and Teddy.
"Right, here goes." Her wand aloft, she murmured a further string of enchantments and after thirty seconds, Victoire's eyes flickered open. Her breathing became instantly more ragged.
"Victoire?" Hestia said, holding up a hand in front of her face to give her a point of focus. "Vic, my love, can you hear me?"
"Y-yes."
"You don't need to be afraid. You're in a safe place. Teddy's here. No one else. We're helping you. Do you know my name?"
Her head twitched in what might have been an attempt at a nod. As her whole body was trembling it was hard to tell.
"Hestia," she said. "Hestia Jones."
"Exactly. I'm here to help you, as I said. I'd like you to tell me - if you can - the last things you remember. Take your time. Let it come back gently."
Teddy felt her grip his hand with more ferocity, and he ran his thumb in what he hoped was soothing circles over the back of hers.
"I was at work," Victoire said, talking with more fluidity now. "Healer Green was telling me off for logging my hours wrong. She was horrible and embarrassed me in front of everyone. But then I spoke to Jessye about it and she made me feel better."
She lapsed into silence.
"What else?" Hestia prompted. "Do you know what happened after that?"
"I went to Teddy's house. He - he made me dinner." A very delicate flush spread over her cheeks and Teddy bit back a smile. They had never actually got to dinner that night, if he remembered accurately.
"Good," Hestia said. "Well done. Keep going. You're doing really well. What about the last few weeks?"
Her eyes were darting now, showing the whites. The flush along her cheekbones had turned to an anaemic grey and even her lips had gone pale. "I don't - I don't understand," she choked out. "What's happening?"
This had to be the crucial bit. Teddy did not know much about these spells, but logic dictated that the most distressing part for Victoire would hold the key piece of information. If only she could endure it enough to remember.
"Vic it's OK." He clutched her hand tighter. "It's all going to be fine. I'm here. Just breath and try and remember."
It was no use. She was wild with distress, jerking her head from side to side as though that would rid her of whatever scenes were playing out in her head. Nothing Teddy said or did could make a difference.
"Make it stop. Please," he begged, after a further two minutes of disjointed words from his girlfriend, unable to witness her suffering a second longer. Without hesitation, Hestia touched her wand to Victoire's wrist. She stopped struggling, slumping forwards instead and put her head in her hands. Teddy closed the gap between them and she collapsed into him, her entire body convulsing with sobs. "It's OK," he whispered. "It's OK, I'm here."
"I don't understand what I've done," she wept. "It could see - all these things. But I don't understand. I don't understand."
A glance up at Hestia told Teddy what he had suspected. That had been their window. They would find out who had done this - on that he was hell bent - but it would not be through Victoire's own recollections. They would have to find another way. Jessye had now reappeared as well and was watching the scene with tears sparkling in her eyes. She could never bear to see anyone upset.
"She's logged out of the system," she murmured. "No one saw me do it."
Teddy murmured his thanks and strengthened his embrace around Victoire, wishing he could hold her tighter, near tears himself but knowing it was on him to be the calm, collected one.
"I'll take her home."
oOo
Hope remained buoyant as the holidays approached. Her enthusiasm for Quidditch and her favourite classes returned with gusto, and she even found the motivation to make up a revision timetable for after Easter. It was a start. Whether she would use it or not... remained to be seen.
Her mood was marred only once on the last evening of term, by Adam, after spending several enjoyable hours out in the grounds, lying on the grass enjoying the unseasonably warm spring weather. Regardless of what Elodie had said, Adam had made no attempt to take the physical relationship further than kissing, which was a relief. Roxanne might have slept with half a dozen boys before deciding that they weren't worth the trouble, but Hope was not interested. Kissing would do her nicely for the moment.
"Have a good holiday!" Adam said, as they reluctantly broke apart and made their way back inside so as to be in before curfew. Hope was keen to avoid both detention and a row with her parents this time around. "Maybe we can meet up on the middle weekend?"
"Sure. But won't I see you on the train tomorrow?" she asked, confused. She hadn't been expecting him to spend the whole journey with her, granted, but it seemed reasonable to have assumed they would see each other to say goodbye before heading their separate ways.
Adam shrugged.
"Sure, come and find me if you want."
It would be nice if you wanted to see me for a change.
She did not let the acrid words pass her lips, but, once the two of them shared a final kiss and parted ways, Hope stomped up to the dormitory, her happy bubble now smaller than it had been before. She was beginning to see what Roxanne had meant about boys not being worth it.
Her stubbornness endured into the following day. If Adam really liked her, then he would have to come and find her himself, and she was prepared to wait until he made up his mind. Roxanne heartily approved of this 'playing hard to get' tactic, while Dom, more cautious, told Hope that it was unwise to play games in relationships, and that she should address any issues with Adam head on. As she often did when Dom and Roxanne had opposing views, Hope opted for convenience and lack of emotional effort, and did not seek Adam out during the journey.
On arrival in King's Cross, Roxanne said her goodbyes and hurried off to meet Fred and Alison, who were picking her up. Dom, who was transporting them back to Devon, held out her arm and Hope gritted her teeth. She did not love apparition, but there was no doubt it was useful, and she would not be able to take her own test for a long time. She might as well make the most of side-along while Dom was in the country.
"Come in for a bit?" Hope suggested, as she and Dom reappeared outside the Lupins' house. "You can stay for dinner if you like. I hope Dad's made cake. He normally does for the holidays."
All thoughts of food were forgotten the minute they entered the house. Remus met them at the door, his face pale and tired, his forehead heavily lined. So much so that Hope wondered fleetingly if she had forgotten the full moon, but no, it was not until the end of the month.
"Victoire's here," he said, once he had greeted them, turning to Dom. "Just to warn you, something's happened. She's alright," he hastened to add, as Dom's eyes widened in alarm. "Physically, at least. But she is upset."
The two girls followed him into the lounge and Hope stared in dismay at the sight that greeted them. She was used to confident Victoire. Breezy Victoire. Victoire who waltzed through life with her stunning features, dazzling charm and glamorous clothes. In that moment she looked like a lost child, huddled up on the sofa next to Teddy, dressed in one of his oversized jumpers, her face pale and her matted hair tied up into a low slung ponytail.
"Vic?" Dom sat down next to her and touched her arm uncertainly. "Vic, what's wrong?"
Victoire turned to Dom, threw her arms round her neck and dissolved into tears, much to Hope's astonishment. While more civil to each other now than as children, the two of them were not known for displays of affection. Dom, half bemused, half terrified, patted her sister on the back before returning the embrace. Teddy's forehead was furrowed, his mouth set in a thin line, eyes deeply distressed.
"Do you want to go home?" Dom asked, as Victoire finally drew back again and dragged a sleeve over her face.
"Your parents are back now," Remus supplied. "You're welcome to stay here if you want, but they know what happened and it might help to be at home with them."
Victoire sniffed and nodded. Close to tears herself, Dom helped her to her feet.
"What did happen?" Hope demanded, wheeling round to her parents as the other three left. Teddy had insisted on escorting the two girls home, so she sank down onto his vacated spot on the sofa. Her mother was standing next to the fireplace, deep in thought, and it was her father who answered.
"Victoire has been under the Imperius curse for the past two months," he said, sitting down as well. "They found out about it today."
Hope gaped back at him in blank horror, nausea swirling in her stomach. She remembered Roxanne wondering, a mere week ago, whether the tide was beginning to turn, and despite her doubts about Strike Three, she had held out hope that her friend was right. But was this the way it was going to be from now on? One obstacle overcome, only for another, more harrowing one to take its place? Did growing up just mean an endless stream of worries and horrible incidents to be navigated step by step?
Several urgent questions later, her parents had explained as best they could from the details they knew themselves. "We're lucky that Jessye intercepted Victoire when she did," Remus sighed. Tonks was still silent, lost in thought. "She knows her too well to believe she would do this of her own volition. In a further stroke of fortune, Hestia was in work early today, and she was able to get a rough idea of the parameters of the curse. She alerted those who needed to know while keeping it quiet from everyone else."
"Victoire was stealing new research on the curse from the Magienetics department?" Hope repeated. "So that must be linked to The Crow then? She was getting the information for him? Or for someone to pass on to him?"
"Yes," her father said. "It would seem so. But it's a very strange set of circumstances." He looked towards his wife, as if asking for help with something, but she remained lost in her own thoughts. He turned back to Hope. "It turns out that it was also Victoire who informed the Daily Prophet about Teddy's hearing."
Hope sat bolt upright at this.
"What? How do you know that?"
"Clara found out," Teddy provided. He had re-entered the room behind his mother and they all turned to face him.
"She's a little better," he added, in response to their questioning looks. "I left them to have some time alone. Fleur and Bill are keeping an eye on her, and Dom won't leave her side." He threw himself into the sofa and, glaring at a spot on the wall, added bitterly, "Nothing like an unforgivable curse to cure a bit of sibling rivalry."
Burning as she was to know more details, Hope waited until Teddy spoke on his own.
"Clara found out," he repeated at last, turning to Hope. "Two weeks ago, just before I went back to work. She's like a dog with a bone when she's on a mission, and she knows Cavendish, the Daily Prophet editor, so she got the information out of him in the end. The details of my hearing were sent in a Fée Extraordinaire envelope, addressed in Victoire's handwriting. I saw it myself. I knew it must have been a mistake but it didn't cross my mind that it could be the Imperious Curse."
"You didn't talk to Victoire about it?"
Teddy shook his head. "I've been trying to find the best way of broaching it. But she's been struggling so much recently, it might have pushed her over the edge. I wish I had asked her sooner. Her response would have been out of character, and that might have made me go to Hestia for advice."
"Hang on!" Hope vaguely remembered a snippet of information she had retained from Edgcombe's classes. "I thought it wasn't possible to tell what an Imperious victim was forced to do."
Teddy's face took on his 'clever' look, as Hope had taken to calling it, and she wondered if a technical speech was coming, but his words were simple enough.
"It's not, really," he said. "Not to any reliable extent that would hold up against a jury. But those skilled in curse detection, like Hestia, can recover certain memories that the effects of the Imperious curse occlude. Victoire remembers sending the letter to the Daily Prophet, and she remembers being in the Magienetics department on occasion over the last few weeks, when she had no particular reason to be there. She doesn't remember taking the documents today, though, or who she was supposed to pass them on to."
"Can't Hestia find out more?" Hope asked eagerly. "Why can't she help Victoire remember that too?"
Teddy's eyes darkened. "Because it's a traumatic process. Imagine remembering an action you did but had no control over, as if you were watching yourself from outside your own body. It was causing her a lot of distress and Hestia lifted the spell when it became too much for her."
His voice broke slightly and Hope registered she was being insensitive. Poor Victoire had been sobbing her heart out on their sofa less than half an hour ago.
"Sorry," she muttered. She was getting better at apologising at least. "It must be horrible for her. Will - will she be alright?"
"I hope so," Teddy said, his face softening. "She'll get support, and she'll be signed off work for a while. And we will find out who did this so it doesn't happen again."
Hope's mind was racing ahead of the conversation, her thoughts turning to who. "She was cursed to get magienetics research on the curse, but also to leak information about you, to hurt your chances at the hearing? In the one go?"
"It would seem so." Teddy scratched fitfully at a loose thread on the faded sofa. "And it doesn't make sense. No sense at all."
"Why not?" Hope protested. "Whoever needed the Narcoviral Curse research must be working for the The Crow, and if they thought that leaking the story about you would help him, then why wouldn't they get her to do that too?"
"Why would it help The Crow for the public to know I was in trouble at St Mungo's?"
"To show people what he's capable of! That spell he cast on Mum was something no one's ever heard of before, Phennah said."
Hope felt a splinter of guilt for blaming the healer now she knew a far more sinister culprit was in play. Teddy was looking sceptical.
"But the article didn't talk about The Crow's hand in Mum's illness, remember. In fact, it didn't mention him at all. It was specifically about my transgression and what that meant for St Mungo's and the integrity of its staff."
Hope floundered. Teddy had a point. "You said yourself it was damaging to St Mungo's reputation. Maybe that's what The Crow wants - if people lose faith in St Mungo's it would mean fewer people would be willing to get the cure."
Teddy looked unimpressed by this theory, and Hope knew it was a flimsy argument, particularly when every wizard she knew of had received the cure before Christmas.
"Anyone who uses the Imperious curse is scum," she continued, more robustly. "Why wouldn't they also ruin the hospital's reputation, or mess up your research, or just cause trouble in general, if they got the chance?"
"That,' Teddy shot back, "is precisely the point. "How would they get that chance? Vic hasn't been anywhere the last few months, she's been too busy. She goes to work, she comes home, sometimes she comes over here. That's it."
Hope stared at him, uncomprehending.
"Then it's obviously someone in work. It has to be. There are rumours going round about a spy in St Mungo's, there was an article in the Quibbler," she looked at her father for confirmation of this and he nodded, his eyes distracted as he rested his chin thoughtfully on his finger tips. "They must be getting loads of people to do their dirty work. There could be other staff under the Imperious curse too-"
Teddy was still shaking his head.
"The MoSS would have been alerted immediately if an Imperious curse had been cast within St Mungo's," he said flatly. "Ever since Mum's illness they've had tighter security in the hospital than ever. Anyone coming in submits their wand to tracking while they're in the building. Every spell they cast is recorded. You don't get past the main entrance without a tagged wand and it's now impossible to get to the wards any other way. Comply or no entry. No exceptions. It's that simple."
"Victoire must have been cursed before, then. Before Mum was ill and before this tracking tagging thing was introduced."
"Hope, think about it." Teddy's tone was as calm as ever but she detected his bite of impatience. "Firstly, Hestia thinks it happened in the last six to eight weeks. She's incredibly skilled when it comes to curse detection, so she won't have got that wrong."
Hope had forgotten that it was now possible to put a timeframe on when an Imperious curse had been cast. She definitely needed to start paying more attention in Defence Against the Dark arts.
"Secondly." Teddy was still speaking. "Even if that wasn't the case, Victoire can't have been cursed until after Mum was admitted. There's no way anyone could have predicted that I would have a disciplinary hearing before I'd done the action I was being disciplined for. Victoire wasn't in work the day Mum was ill, and by the time she was, the rules were clear. No one got into St Mungo's after that without having their wand tracked and traced."
"Maybe she was forced to help The Crow in general and cause trouble for St Mungo's. And the story about you was an unfortunate part of that." Hope knew she was clutching at straws.
"If it was that, we would have noticed something odd before now," Teddy insisted. "There would have been more scandals. More sketchy stories about the hospital breaking the news. St Mungo's history is far from clean and any healer could give you half a dozen examples of that off the bat."
He let out a hiss of frustration. "No, to me it's pretty clear. She was put under the Imperious curse a couple of months ago with at least two specific instructions. One: procure information from the Magienetics department. Two: leak the story of my hearing to the press. But whoever cursed her somehow had the motive, knowledge and opportunity to do that outside the hospital, or else dodged all the security checks in the hospital. It doesn't make sense at all."
The cogs turned furiously in Hope's brain, to no avail. Teddy was right. It didn't make sense.
"What if it was a patient?" she offered, after a long silence, knowing as the words left her mouth that she sounded stupid and childish. A lifelong friendship with Roxanne Weasley had taught her to always find some explanation for strange happenings, however ridiculous. "A long term patient, I mean. One who came into hospital with their wand before the tracking system was introduced. Before the curse happened at all."
Teddy laughed at this, though not unkindly.
"A patient wouldn't want to help The Crow, or ruin St Mungo's reputation, would they? Not if they were relying on long term hospital care."
"They could have been Imperioused too. Somehow..." Even Hope couldn't find a plausible explanation as to how. "Or maybe it's about your research. If they were bitten by a werewolf they might want revenge. Stop you developing a cure."
Teddy was visibly losing patience with her wild theories now.
"If they'd been bitten by a werewolf, they would want a cure more than most," he pointed out, rolling his eyes. "Anyway," he cut over his sister as she opened her mouth again. "It's irrelevant. Wands belonging to patients would have been tagged too, no matter whose they were, how sick that patient was or how long they'd been in hospital. Kingsley wouldn't overlook the possibility of a healthy staff member or visitor being able to steal a patient's wand, and neither would Higgs. Higgs is the chief at the MoSS, and he never leaves a stone unturned."
"Alright, it was only a suggestion," Hope snapped, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them. She did not appreciate being patronised, even if Teddy hadn't meant it as such. "He must have left one unturned, otherwise The Crow would be caught by now."
Teddy did not rise to her tone, rather was looking curiously to the other side of the room. Neither of their parents had said anything throughout the entire exchange, but their mother had now stiffened. She stared in the direction of her two children, eyes unfocused, as if she couldn't really see them.
"Mum?"
Her eyes, piercing blue today, met Teddy's.
"Vic," she said, very slowly. "She's been working on the Incurable Affliction Ward? Since Christmas?"
"Yes." Teddy confirmed, bemused. "Why?"
"Dora?"
"Mum, what's up?"
She had paled slightly, an odd expression twisting her face. "I need to go into work," she muttered, running a distracted hand through her hair and summoning her cloak from the door with a wave of her hand. "I need to speak to Harry. It might be nothing. I don't see how it could possibly... But... Maybe..."
Both her children and her husband stared up at her, nonplussed.
"Mum, what are you talking about?"
She shook her head.
"I need to speak to Harry first," she said, approaching each of them for a brief hug. "He'll still be at work, I'm sure. I'll be back soon. I just-"
Silence fell as she broke apart from Hope and their attention was caught by the appearance of a tiny, jet black bubble, which appeared from nowhere, hovered for a few seconds, then burst right in Tonks's eyeline. Odourless, textureless black smoke clouded the air and Hope's breath caught in her throat.
A black alert. The highest alert. The summons which meant that any Auror physically capable of duty should respond immediately.
A mirthless smile played on Tonks's lips as it cleared. "That leaves no question, then." She looked up at Remus, whose face tensed as he pulled her into a fierce embrace. "I will definitely be going into work. And I'm afraid I won't be back as soon as I'd hoped."
Hope watched, utterly powerless, as her parents broke apart. Her mother took a deep breath, donned her cloak, turned her hair to its most vibrant shade of pink, gave each of her children a final kiss, and she was gone. The last wisps of black smoke faded into nothing.
o
"Harry?" Tonks knocked on her superior's office door barely a minute after the black alert had been issued.
"That was quick. Even for you."
His voice was odd. Strained. He was sitting at his desk, staring blankly down at the polished oak. A grey, MoSS embossed piece of parchment lay in front of him.
"I was about to come and find you anyway, to talk to you, but - " she stared at his tortured face as he continued to look down at the table. "Harry, what's wrong? What's happened now?"
Harry let out a measured exhale. It seemed to be taking him every ounce of resolve to stay calm.
"I'll tell you when everyone's arrived." He looked up at her at last. "Why did you want to talk to me?"
"Oh." Now that she was here, the idea that had sprung to mind in her own living room seemed idiotic, a wild theory spurred on by her over imaginative teenage daughter. "It's nothing, honestly. I don't think it's even possible."
"I'm not sure anyone can say that again, after the events of the past year," Harry said. "Come on, what's up?"
"OK." Tonks closed the door to his office for a moment. "I don't know how this fits in with what's happening now. It probably doesn't, and it'll sound crazy, but Teddy and Hope were just talking about Victoire. Bickering mainly, about how she could have been cursed. You know Hope tends to get carried away, but something she said did make me think-" She hesitated again. "Harry, this is going to sound insane, I know that, but Vic's been working on the Incurable Affliction ward for three months now, and-"
She didn't need to finish. Harry's eyes had closed and he gave a single jerk of his head. The rest of her sentence died in her throat.
"You think so too?"
With a visible effort, he unclenched his jaw, and spoke in slow, carefully restrained tones.
"We heard about Victoire this morning. Hestia alerted us the minute she found out and gave us all the details she had. So Kingsley and I met with Higgs. Knew we must have missed something." His eyes were gimlets and his nostrils flared. "It didn't take too long for me to realise how stupid I've been. Not to see it. All this time."
Tonks's heart was beating painfully against her ribs.
"We don't know for certain though, do we?"
"Yes, we do. Higgs confirmed five minutes ago."
He handed her the grey parchment to read. Her fist curled around it, crumpling the stiff paper as she scanned the lines of text, her knuckles whitening. She slammed it back down on Harry's desk.
"How?"
Harry offered no response to this. Then, with a roar of anguish, he picked up a glass vase that sat on the edge of his desk and hurled it against the wall. Tonks didn't flinch as it smashed, watching as the shards littered the floor.
"What now?"
Harry stood up, his outward calm restored even as his eyes blazed. He repaired the glass wandlessly and silently with a sweep of his hand. They could hear movement on the other side of the office door as more of their colleagues answered the black alert call.
"I brief the team," he said. "As quickly as I can. Then we leave."
"We can end this, Harry," Tonks said, as they both made towards the office door. "Now we know. We end it. Today."
Once again Harry made no reply and, glancing up at his livid face, Tonks felt a spasm of fear on his behalf. Harry would be ending this today if it was the last thing he ever did.
o
"Remus?"
It was Ginny. Teddy was now back at Shell Cottage to check on Victoire, and Remus and Hope, having finished dinner and exhausted the topic of Hope's term at school, had been sitting in silence for quite some time.
"Can I wait with you?" she asked, an odd tremor in her voice, as Remus stood up to greet her, apparently glad of the distraction. "I - I don't really want to be alone right now."
"Of course." He gestured that she should sit down with them. "Where are the kids?"
"At The Burrow," Ginny said. "They went straight there from school, as I was working late. I've asked them to stay with Mum until we have more information."
Hope swallowed the lump in her throat as Ginny sat down at the table, and Remus brought her a drink. "This black alert?" she said. "Is it to do with The Crow?"
"It must be," Ginny said. "Black alerts have only been used once since the war, and that was for The Surge."
"And is it-" Hope bit her lip. "Is it Strike Three?"
Two pairs of eyes snapped towards her.
"How do you know about Strike Three?" Remus asked.
"It was sort of obvious," Hope said. "Mum talked about Strike One last summer, and Harry mentioned Strike Two to the healers when Mum was in hospital. I know he said it was Auror terminology, but that didn't make sense. Everything felt so weird at school, too. As if people were waiting for something." If she wasn't mistaken Ginny and her father were somewhat impressed by her deductions.
"What is Strike Three?" she persisted.
Ginny sighed. "I don't think it can hurt to tell you now. So many people know about it. The Crow's first message, back in December the year before last, warned that as part of his scheme, there would be three strikes after the initial release of the curse. Strike One would be validation, a way to demonstrate that everyone already believed wizards were more worthy than muggles, but that The Crow was the only one doing something about it. That, of course, was the planting of the tainted cure, which meant that magical authorities had to hold back on releasing it to avoid killing innocent muggles who may have high levels of magic in their blood."
"That wasn't so bad in the end though, was it? Because it helped us find a proper cure?"
"Absolutely. A blessing in more ways than one, because it also saved your mum's life. And Strike Two didn't go as The Crow intended either. Strike Two was to be ultimatum, a choice to make, an opportunity for leaders to stop resisting, to join forces with The Crow or else he would unleash the curse on wizards as well. But Tonks messed up Strike Two for him. She was able to impede his progress and force him to lie low for a while, and he lost his window of opportunity to gain the upper hand. But it was only temporary. This lull and apparent progress was predicted by experts long ago. A build up to Strike Three."
"What is Strike Three? Did The Crow say what it would be?"
Ginny nodded tightly. "Obliteration."
Obliteration. The word conjured up a myriad of dark, cloudy images in Hope's mind.
"What does that mean?"
"No one is entirely sure," Ginny said. "In theory, something so drastic that any progress made to date against the Narcoviral Curse would be rendered worthless. Multiple releases of it worldwide, for example. Mass destruction of the existing cures. Or a more lethal version of the virus, mutated beyond reach of the muggle vaccine."
Hope remembered her mother explaining The Crow's motives to her, many lifetimes ago now. She had said that he didn't want the curse to appear "too magical", that he didn't want to drive muggle leaders back towards magical authorities. But would that matter to him now, eighteen months later? Probably not. The world was in such a state of disarray, weakened and divided, the chinks in the armour so chasmic that a final, well aimed blow could surely tear it apart forever.
Her father, seeing her panic stricken look, spoke firmly. "The wizarding world has been preparing for Strike Three for over a year now, Hope. Measures that very few people know about. Even Harry isn't aware of some of it. We believe The Crow was too arrogant, misread the situation and underestimated the strength of resistance that could be pushed back against him. He should never have been so open about his plans and warned the world about a final, deadly blow. Aurors, the MoSS, MACUSA, leaders, healers and researchers across the world have been secretly pouring their resources into preparing for Strike Three ever since they first heard about it. Today, if Strike Three is the reason behind the black alert, we can at least hold out hope those contingency plans will mitigate the damage."
It was a very long night spent in almost total silence after that. Teddy sent a message to say he would be staying at Victoire's until the morning. Remus pretended to read. Ginny sat there throwing nervous glances at the clock every few seconds. Hope tidied her bedroom and did the washing up by hand just for something to do. The hours ticked by but no one mentioned bed. Sleep was the last thing on their minds.
O
It was three o'clock in the morning when the sound of the front door being opened and shut broke through the silence of the house. Hope, who had been unnecessarily rearranging some books on a shelf in her room, came sprinting down the stairs the second she heard the deep voice on the floor below, and stumbled through the doorway of the kitchen.
There were no words to accurately describe the expressions on Harry and her mother's faces. Tonks enveloped both her husband and daughter in a hug the minute she saw them, but Ginny seemed afraid to go near Harry. He was radiating a force, an invisible, furious energy, his auror of habitual calm absent, his eyes blazing.
"What's happened?" Remus said, his voice sharp. He too was unnerved by Harry's demeanour.
"We've got him," Harry said, without preamble. "The Crow. He's in custody and we'll start proceedings later. I wanted to stay but Kingsley sent me home to get some sleep before it all kicks off." His eyes flared. "As if I could sleep, right now."
Hope didn't understand. She knew The Crow's actions had cost hundreds of thousands of lives, but that had been true for months now. Surely his eventual capture should be cause for relief, if not quite celebration? Why this sudden, silent seething?
It was Ginny who asked the question.
Harry looked round at them all. As his eyes rested on Hope and, calming a little, he took a deep breath before sinking into a chair at the end of the table.
"This has been coming for a very long time," he said, as the others followed suit. "Far longer than any of us realised. Possibly since the end of the first war."
"The first war?" Ginny gaped at him in shock. "But the curse can't have existed back then, surely?"
"No," Harry agreed. "The curse itself can only have been perfected in the last decade, we're pretty sure of that. But the theory of a Narcoviral Curse has been around for much longer, remember. Since Golpalott's time. And The Crow, it would seem, has been planning it all these years. Researching, testing, experimenting. The wheels for this were set in motion long before Voldemort's second rise."
"So was The Crow a Voldemort supporter?"
Harry ground his teeth.
"Possibly, but only in the sense that Voldemort's dominion would have made it easier for him to achieve his own ends. When Voldemort was defeated, it was merely a setback. And over the years, a new plan came together, little by little, a ticking time bomb, until the Narcoviral Curse was ready to be unleashed into the world."
Hope felt that familiar creeping sensation down her shoulders and back. She reached out her hand for reassurance and her mother, who was sitting next to her, took it, her gaze still fixed on Harry.
"Why didn't he act before?" Remus asked. "Has it taken all these years to create the curse in the first place?"
"I suppose we'll find out in due course," Harry replied. "My guess at the moment is that he perfected the curse several years ago, after the breakthrough in magical genetic study, but that the logistics took many long months to come together. He would only get one shot at this. One chance to execute the lethal product of a lifetime's work. He needed to pick his moment carefully. Although," his fists clenched. "I don't think it's a coincidence that the moment came right after Harry Potter became Head of the Auror department."
"Wait," Ginny sat bolt upright, her brown eyes wary. "You know him? The Crow?"
Harry shook his head. "Not The Crow. He's older than me and he never attended Hogwarts, or any wizarding school. Hestia and Jessye were right about the spy in St Mungo's. There was someone else. Someone to gather crucial information to inform the curse itself. Someone to target dedicated, innocent health workers like poor Victoire. Someone to ensure that the curse would not only cause widespread devastation, but also engender irreparable discord between muggle and magical communities. So that, if they were successful, it would truly mean end of the non-magical population."
"But how?" Remus said, bewildered. "How have they avoided being caught, all this time?"
"Because they were cunning," Harry said grimly. "Cunning beyond anyone's estimation. And because they were in no rush, as long as this was the end result. Because over the last year all our focus has been on The Crow, and on finding a cure for this disease, and that was exactly what they wanted. And as the Muggle world was torn apart and the wizarding world descended into chaos, no one had the time, energy, or even reason to sit down and work out who could possibly have been biding their time all these years, willing to wait for the rest of their life if it meant their aims succeeded in the end."
He was shaking.
"It's someone we should have suspected long ago. Someone I should have suspected. I don't know how I didn't see it before now."
"Harry-" Tonks's voice was gentle, placating, but Harry ploughed ruthlessly on.
"Someone who was right there every day, in prime position to act, but who was overlooked, because no one believed they were healthy or sane enough to even comprehend what was happening."
There was a manic gleam in his eyes as he looked at Remus. "Someone," he hissed, "who was released from prison eight years ago on medical grounds, diagnosed with third stage Gorsemoor's Disease, and whose condition has been slowly worsening in St Mungo's ever since."
Gorsemoor's again. Hope shivered. Dementor's Syndrome, Michael had said it was sometimes called. The awful, crippling malady that rendered its victims as good as dead. Hope remembered Professor Izatt telling them about a prisoner winning their release appeal on medical grounds, and Harry had also mentioned it before, she was sure, but she had never learnt the details, nor that person's name. Her father and Ginny did not need telling. Ginny clapped her hands to her mouth, her face draining of all colour, and Remus's eyes blackened with fury.
"No." The word came out as a ferocious snarl and Hope jumped. She had never heard him sound like that, and her mother squeezed her hand again, reassuring. But there was no wiping the fury from either of their expressions.
Hope held her tongue. Her parents would no doubt explain later. Ginny's face was set, her freckles standing out vividly against the chalk white of her skin.
"How?"
"I will be finding out, believe me," Harry said. "But the pieces are starting to slot into place. The Crow - or Orpheus, to give him his real name - is her son."
Ginny went, if possible, even paler. "She had a son?"
"Yes. And enough connections to hide him completely. Born at the peak of the darkest war of all time, who even would have bothered to notice as she took extreme measures to erase all trace of him? He was raised with a single purpose, to turn the theory of a Narcoviral Curse into reality. He continued to work on it after her imprisonment, somehow kept up a secret liaison with her when she was in hospital, and here we are all these years later. With the world on the brink of total devastation. They might have succeeded completely, but he was too arrogant, in the end, and she was too greedy. Made it personal. The curse on Victoire was mainly their undoing, and we had enough Strike Three precautions in place to catch them."
He fell silent. They all seemed completely lost for words.
"Where are they now?" Remus asked at last. "What will happen to them?"
"The Crow's in custody," Harry said. "He'll be questioned under veritaserum as soon as we can have an official proceeding. I've ordered for him to be treated humanely and Kingsley has backed me on that. Nothing can excuse what he's done, but he must have been through hell and back over the past forty years. What chance did he ever have in life, with her for a mother?"
"So-" Ginny looked sideways at her husband, hardly daring to ask. "What about her?"
Harry did not answer immediately. His right hand, resting on the kitchen table top, was still balled into a fist, and he moved it towards his wife. For a second, Hope thought he was simply reaching out to hold her hand for emotional support. His fist, however, did not uncurl, and Ginny's eyes widened as she stared down at it.
"They've gone," she whispered.
"Yes."
"So she's dead?"
"Oh she's dead," Harry spat, the manic gleam returned to his green eyes. "I made sure of that."
He ran a thumb over the lightly tanned, unblemished skin on the back of his hand. There was no sign, none at all, that just hours ago the hand had been disfigured by ugly scratches. Pearl white scars, a generation old, spelling out the words I must not tell lies.
OOO