Weft of Power, Warp of Blood: A Tapestry of Desire
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Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
70
Views:
12,269
Reviews:
71
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
70
Views:
12,269
Reviews:
71
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
Anti-Litigation Charm: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story, though wish I did. The only money I have goes toward good wine and chocolate. You can't
Fireworks - Part 2
The animals were upset, thus, Jasmine was upset, even though she’d known that it was coming. No, she wasn’t upset, she was annoyed; when she was annoyed, she wanted to annoy the person who was irritating her. Arielle was happily in singing in the shower, but this time it wasn’t Arielle’s voice doing it this time, The idiot outside the gate was scaring old Joe, who could hear well enough to be scared of the voice, amplified by a Sonorous spell. Jasmine smoothed her hands over the horse’s flanks, murmuring nonsense words to calm him. He harrumphed a puff of air at her and nibbled at her shoulder in forgiveness of the crimes she didn’t commit. Skeevers had hidden underneath one of the beds or a couch but Jasmine had set out his food anyway. Faust had disappeared, as usual, and Sally had her pepper and blissfully ignored the idiot. What the voice was doing to Glastaig, Aberforth’s “gift”, couldn’t be told; she was always twitchy. Florentine was off hunting, thank goodness.
“Mama, who’s that talking so loud?” Arielle poked her head through the open door to the barn, wet hair dripping.
“That’s a man that wants to see Professor Grandpa, but we’re not going to tell him where he is, right?”
“Right, it’s our secret,” said Jasmine as she finished feeding the animals and took a deep breath. Now that Ari was out of the shower, Jasmine could do what needed to be done. “C’mere, baby,” she said gently, hating herself but knowing there wasn’t another choice.
Arielle approached, wearing a curious smile and a pink nightgown.
“Alienare,” she whispered, wand clutched in her hand, pointed at Arielle from her side. As soon as the little girl’s blue eyes rolled back into her head, Jasmine tucked the wand under her trouser leg and muttered a Sticking Charm to make sure the wand didn’t fall at an inconvenient moment
Arielle, blinked, shook her head and yawned, “Mama, I’m sleepy.” She blinked again, as if just realizing something, “Why is that man talking so loud?”
“I don’t know, sweetest girl, let’s go find out,” Jasmine clasped Ari’s hand and walked out of the barn.
“Madam, I demand that you let me in! By orders of the Ministry of Magic, let us in! I give you one minute then I’m going to invoke the Ministry’s Emergency Floo Use Act!” said the amplified voice, rather nasally.
“Coming! I’m coming!” Jasmine hauled Arielle to her hip and pretended that she was racing to the gate. She waved a hole in the Hecate’s Hawthorn bush that guarded the perimeter.
A freckle faced boy stood outside with two other people, waving a scroll about, shouting, “Madam Snape, you have thir – Oh. Well. It’s about time. My name is Percy Weasley, Assistant Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. I am here on official Ministry business. I demand entrance to your property and the cottage called Dumbledore’s Garden!”
Jasmine tucked Ari’s head into her shoulder, shielding her ears. “Would you mind? I can hear you quite well, thank you very much and you’ve interrupted our bath time. My name is not, nor has it ever been, ‘Madam Snape’.”
The boy, only about twenty years old, but far too self-important for his own good, flushed and muttered a Quieting Charm. The two Aurors behind him snickered. He turned back and glared at them. Both straightened up and looked innocent. As soon as Assistant Undersecretary Weasley turned back to face Jasmine, the female Auror with pink hair crossed her eyes behind his back. She looked familiar but Jasmine wasn’t in the mood to try and place her.
“What is it that you want again, Mr. Weasel? I really don’t understand why you want to come onto my land.” Jasmine asked politely, still snuggling Ari close.
“Mama, he has freckles like Maribelle. May I please count your freckles? Me and Moira and Maribelle counted her freckles yesterday. She has a gajillion million five. We counted them! Really, we did,” announced Arielle.
Jasmine didn’t shush the girl this time; she let Ari prattle on for a bit longer about the idiot boy’s freckles. Jasmine only nodded her head and hummed that she understood – a sign that she wanted to hear more about Maribelle’s freckles.
The Aurors snickered again; the boy ignored them and shoved a paper toward the hole in the hedgerow. When the paper touched a leaf, the hole closed immediately and thorns glistened with poison.
“I wouldn’t do that, were I you. The plants are rather protective of us,” Jasmine called.
“I have a Ministry order here, demanding entrance to search for one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. If you do not allow entrance, your home will be entered by force and you will be remanded to custody pending a hearing on obstruction of justice before the Wizengamot,” the boy said, it had been rehearsed but the timing of his words wasn’t quite smooth enough to be natural – or authoritative.
Jasmine snickered to herself – they could certainly try to enter the house by force. They probably wouldn’t like the result, though. She waved a hole in the bush again to see the boy brandishing the scroll again, “I don’t understand,” she said, her expression was one of utter confusion. “Why are you searching for him here? Why aren’t you at Hogwarts? He does live there, you know.”
“As I’m sure you’re well aware of, Madam, Dumbledore defied several Ministry edicts, assaulted several members of the Ministry, including the Minister himself then escaped. We have reason to believe that he is here.”
Affronted, she demanded, “Are you calling me a liar? I’ll have you know that my galleons pay your salary! I have never been so insulted in my entire life!” She sounded just as her mother did in a howler when Jasmine had been caught in the proverbial cookie jar at school. Adding just a bit more screech, “And how do I know that the piece of paper that you’re waving around isn’t a portkey to whisk me off to Voldemort? I don’t know who you are! I have never seen you in my life, Associate Under-Leftenant Weasel and… and… your… your goon brigade!” She tucked the silent but clinging Arielle closer.
The boy spluttered and adjusted his glasses over bulging eyes. His freckled face turned fuchsia. “Dumbledore left the school yesterday. He’s not been seen but he is under arrest. Ask the Ministry! Floo the Minister’s office to verify the warrant!”
“I’ll do just that!” she hefted the sleepy but very interested Ari and marched into the house. After settling Arielle on a divan, she tossed Floo powder into the fireplace, settled her body down and yelled for the Ministry.
A nasal voiced Floo-perator with dishwater pincurls answered in the switching room, one hand ready to switch the fire to the proper office, “Ministry of Magic, which office, please?”
“I want to speak to someone about Albus Dumbledore!” Jasmine demanded in ringing tones.
“One moment, please,” the woman said. “Margie, there’s another one…”
The woman’s commentary was interrupted when she pulled the lever and Jasmine’s head spun to the Minister of Magic’s office. Jasmine had only been there once, for a spot of dynamagus work when the Ministry dynamagi were both sick.
“May I help you?” asked the secretary who was clearly used more for eye candy than dictation.
“My name is Jasmine Swan and there is a child outside who claims to be working for your office and I want to know why he is demanding entrance to my home when everyone knows that Dumbledore is the best, most powerful, most kindhearted and most well-meaning wizard in all of England! How do I know that this Weasel kid isn’t going to try and kill me and how dare you send someone to search my home when I haven’t done a damned thing wrong? How dare you? What is the Ministry coming to when innocent people are being harassed just for the amusement of that boorish lout Fudge? I want to know who ordered this! I want to know why my taxes aren’t being used to catch Voldemort instead of chasing after my great-grandfather who hasn’t ever done a single thing wrong except not take the Minister’s seat when it was offered to him and then gave that idiot advice everything he needed to do anything more than pee!”
In a dither, the buxom blonde wearing rather skimpy robes, tossed a piece of paper through the green flames and closed her side of the connection before Jasmine could take another breath.
Settling back on her haunches, Jasmine read the Edict of Search and Arrest for Dumbledore. Sadly, it appeared totally legal.
“Hmph,” sniffed Jasmine and trotted outside to release the hawthorns, calling for Arielle to be still until she got back in.
Jasmine demanded in a furious whisper an hour later, “I certainly hope that you’ve enjoyed scaring my child and pawing through my lingerie drawer. Is that how you get your jollies, by fabricating excuses to play in other people’s underwear?” Arielle had fallen asleep in her lap, so Jasmine couldn’t follow the Ministry team around, haranguing them. Instead, she’d settled for making snide comments in true Snape style. The Ministry idiot stood about, looking officious but staying silent while Jasmine’s glare dared him to take a seat in the living room.
The male Auror was still upstairs when the pink haired one entered from the barn. The hem of her robes were chewed – Jasmine had warned her about Glastaig- and her hand was scratched – Jasmine had also warned her about Florentine.
The pink-haired Auror said to Weasley, “He isn’t out here. We’ve searched top to bottom and wasted enough of this nice lady’s time. There are other places to go, plus the Minister’ll be wanting to see you ‘afore bedtime.”
Disgruntled, Weasley held out his hand, “There’s one more thing we’ll need to do before leaving – check Miss Swan’s wand. Please hand it over.”
Glaring, Jasmine tugged her wand from its sheath at her waist and nearly flung it at the boy.
He bobbled it, then Pink-Hair tried to catch it, knocked it aside then caught it in a dive. Jasmine rolled her eyes and looked at the idiot, saying nothing. He stiffened his spine and nodded.
She tugged an instrument out of her cloak. It looked like half a scale, to which a short quill was tied with a golden ribbon, hovering over a bit of foolscap. As soon as the woman set Jasmine’s wand on the scale, the quill quivered then began writing:
Guard release
Guard release
Levitation
Leviation
Cut
Cut
Stir
Cut
Cut
Summon plate plate
Summon glasses, spoons
Close
Open
Summon beef
Slice
Summon courgettes
Summon milk
Summon eggs
Summon flour
Summon water
Summon pot
Close
Open
Move
Move
dynomagus
Fire
Cut
Heal
Cut
Weigh
With a flick of her wand and an extremely sour expression, Pink-Hair stilled the quill, handed Jasmine’s wand back to her and tucked the instrument back into her pocket. “Nice dinner you had there.”
Before Jasmine could do anything but glare, there was a huge thud and clatter from upstairs. The male Auror gallumped down the stairs, rubbing his head. Arielle blinked awake and sat up.
Jasmine stroked Ari’s long hair and snarled at the trio, “And thanks ever so much for waking my daughter. I hope you’re proud of yourselves.”
The Auror ignored her and reported, “Naught but two ghouls in the attic. One of them has a stack of bricks.”
Weasley stood straight, chin up, chest out and said, “We at the Ministry thank you for your time and patience. We will be leaving now. We are sorry for any inconvenience.” Again, it seemed like a recitation.
Jasmine only glared and cuddled Arielle.
“In the interest of public safety, please alert the Ministry if Dumbledore tries to contact you. He is no longer the same man that you know. He is considered a dangerous insurgent.”
Jasmine still glared and shushed Ari when she stared to speak.
The three walked out the door but returned in a moment, begging to be let out the gate. Jasmine released the Hawthorns and watched them confer, then disapparate.
Arielle looked up at her whispered, “Mama, can I talk now?”
“Of course, baby, let’s get you to bed,” Jasmine said and scooped the little girl up.
“That man said there were two ghouls in the attic but we only have Albert,” said Ari sleepily.
“I think he was just confused, baby. Let’s get to bed, it’s late,” responded Jasmine, her lips twitching. She’d lecture her great-grandfather about tossing bricks at Aurors later.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The batches of Wolfesbane Potion Kiaya had made the night before were already on their ways to the two werewolves that she worked for via owl but this batch was for Lupin. Snape had started it that morning but was called away. The potion needed tending, though. In true Snape fashion, he’d ordered Kiaya to finish it and call a house elf for delivery. She might have objected to his tone, but too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours to make objecting to his tone worthwhile. With Dumbledore gone, no one was safe, not from Umbridge, not in his or her job, not from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The door opened without a knock, just as Kiaya was straining the potion, the final step before bottling,
“Hem Hem…”
“Yes, Miss Umbridge? How may I help you?” Kiaya asked politely.
“Headmistress. I am Headmistress now,” the toad woman corrected. The bow atop her head bobbled in satisfaction.
“Of course. I’m terribly sorry. Headmistress, how may I help you?” Kiaya acceded without a conciliatory smile. The inside of her lip was raw from biting. When she tried to bite, it stung until she found a spot to chew on.
“What is it that you’re working on?” questioned the other woman, stalking to the front of the work table.
“A potion requested by Madam Pomfrey, to cure a hex on skin,” Kiaya lied without looking at the woman, hoping that her cheeks weren’t blooming. She was intensely glad for Mr. Basilton’s old instructions to put everything away once it was used. It wouldn’t do to have wolfsbane and silver sage on the table when lying.
The older woman reached to touch the herbs in the sieve; Kiaya yanked them away, only to receive a dirty look. “It wouldn’t do to touch it, there are some powerful ingredients in this that could damage healthy skin,” muttered Kiaya. It was true; wolfsbane was a poison. It was one thing to lie to the woman; it was another to kill her.
“Hem hem,” the woman coughed. “I see, then. When will it be ready? The girl did nothing to deserve this horrible hex cast upon her by malicious students disobeying the rules of this school and Ministry.”
From what Kiaya had heard from Snape, the girl certainly had deserved having “SNEAK” branded across her forehead, but no one was going to say such a thing in front of Umbridge. Poppy Pomfrey hadn’t been in much of a panic when she’d come to the dungeons asking Kiaya and Snape to find a cure for the hex, since no spell would remove it. Still concentrating on the Wolfsbane Potion, Kiaya said, “It will be several hours. This,” she wiggled her elbow, “is only a middle stage. It’ll have to be distilled then turned into a cream with another Bundinium solution added before its safe to use on human skin.”
“As soon as it’s ready, take it right up to the hospital. The poor dear,” the woman clucked as she turned away, “she’ll get better soon and that dreadful man will be cau....” the door slammed behind her.
Shaking her head, Kiaya closed up the bottles and jars, carefully packed the solids into a jar and wrote up instructions for their use. They would either make Lupin vilely ill or improve the potion’s effectiveness. Either way, there was one more step to a solution in the jar. She placed containers in a bag and summoned a house elf, who took the bag and disappeared with a POP.
She heard a voice behind her. Shivers ran up her spine at the silk and velvet of the sound. She didn’t look back.
“Was that the Wolfsbane Potion?”
“Yes, I’ve just finished.”
“Did you find a cure for the hex?”
“No, not yet.”
“Have you worked on it at all?”
“No, not yet.”
“Good.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Dear Hermione,
I got your letter, well done sending it through Miss Roundtree. Now that Dumbledore is gone, it’s a certainty that all letters will be searched. Believe me when I tell you that Dumbledore is safe. I shan’t tell you where he is, that would be dangerous. He is safe though, and nearby enough to find out if you’re in trouble. Tell Harry that he did well in not drinking Umbridge’s tea, you’re right; it probably was laced with a truth potion. In the future, remember that it is possible to transfigure the potion into another substance – like tea or water, before drinking it.
Tell the Weasely twins to be careful – expulsion is the least of their worries. Umbridge could manage to trump up some charge to get them into Azkaban if she finds out who pulled off that stunt. By any chance, did someone get pictures? I should like to see them. I’m sure Sirius would too, if he took an interest in anything but drinking his vile smelling tea and kicking Kreacher around. I’ll shove the pictures in front of his face, if you can get them for me, it might remind him of some of the scrapes we got into at Hogwarts – though to be honest, that one is a winner.
Yours,
Remus
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The small hand shaking his shoulder roused him from a sensual dream about his wife. Instead of demanding that the offending creature explain itself, he just waved it away. Immediately, the house elf disappeared. Lucius knew why the creature had woken him – he’d instructed it to.
Lucius rolled over and pulled a wand out of his nightstand drawer. It wasn’t the wand he normally carried and it had never been registered with the Ministry, but what the Ministry didn’t know wouldn’t hurt it. Well, not yet, at least. Borgin had sworn up and down that its true owner wouldn’t miss it. – Malfoy figured the poor slob was dead.
“Narcissa,” he said, stroking her shoulder. Lucius counted on a drowsy Narcissa being more amenable to suggestion. She awoke, dazed with sleep. He continued. “I need you to do something for me.”
She looked at him, blinking sleepily. “What is it?”
He turned around again, holding the old, scuffed wand. The tip was thin; she could see a bit of the unicorn-hair core sticking out of it
“Whose is that?”
“It doesn’t matter. I got it from old Borgin. We’ll need it.”
“For?”
“Remember our little Unforgivable strategy several years ago?”
She remembered his ‘strategy’ well. It had kept them both out of Azkaban ten years ago and amused her sister, Bella, to no end. She nodded and tried not to show fear or resignation.
“Excellent. I’ll go first.”
“Mama, who’s that talking so loud?” Arielle poked her head through the open door to the barn, wet hair dripping.
“That’s a man that wants to see Professor Grandpa, but we’re not going to tell him where he is, right?”
“Right, it’s our secret,” said Jasmine as she finished feeding the animals and took a deep breath. Now that Ari was out of the shower, Jasmine could do what needed to be done. “C’mere, baby,” she said gently, hating herself but knowing there wasn’t another choice.
Arielle approached, wearing a curious smile and a pink nightgown.
“Alienare,” she whispered, wand clutched in her hand, pointed at Arielle from her side. As soon as the little girl’s blue eyes rolled back into her head, Jasmine tucked the wand under her trouser leg and muttered a Sticking Charm to make sure the wand didn’t fall at an inconvenient moment
Arielle, blinked, shook her head and yawned, “Mama, I’m sleepy.” She blinked again, as if just realizing something, “Why is that man talking so loud?”
“I don’t know, sweetest girl, let’s go find out,” Jasmine clasped Ari’s hand and walked out of the barn.
“Madam, I demand that you let me in! By orders of the Ministry of Magic, let us in! I give you one minute then I’m going to invoke the Ministry’s Emergency Floo Use Act!” said the amplified voice, rather nasally.
“Coming! I’m coming!” Jasmine hauled Arielle to her hip and pretended that she was racing to the gate. She waved a hole in the Hecate’s Hawthorn bush that guarded the perimeter.
A freckle faced boy stood outside with two other people, waving a scroll about, shouting, “Madam Snape, you have thir – Oh. Well. It’s about time. My name is Percy Weasley, Assistant Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. I am here on official Ministry business. I demand entrance to your property and the cottage called Dumbledore’s Garden!”
Jasmine tucked Ari’s head into her shoulder, shielding her ears. “Would you mind? I can hear you quite well, thank you very much and you’ve interrupted our bath time. My name is not, nor has it ever been, ‘Madam Snape’.”
The boy, only about twenty years old, but far too self-important for his own good, flushed and muttered a Quieting Charm. The two Aurors behind him snickered. He turned back and glared at them. Both straightened up and looked innocent. As soon as Assistant Undersecretary Weasley turned back to face Jasmine, the female Auror with pink hair crossed her eyes behind his back. She looked familiar but Jasmine wasn’t in the mood to try and place her.
“What is it that you want again, Mr. Weasel? I really don’t understand why you want to come onto my land.” Jasmine asked politely, still snuggling Ari close.
“Mama, he has freckles like Maribelle. May I please count your freckles? Me and Moira and Maribelle counted her freckles yesterday. She has a gajillion million five. We counted them! Really, we did,” announced Arielle.
Jasmine didn’t shush the girl this time; she let Ari prattle on for a bit longer about the idiot boy’s freckles. Jasmine only nodded her head and hummed that she understood – a sign that she wanted to hear more about Maribelle’s freckles.
The Aurors snickered again; the boy ignored them and shoved a paper toward the hole in the hedgerow. When the paper touched a leaf, the hole closed immediately and thorns glistened with poison.
“I wouldn’t do that, were I you. The plants are rather protective of us,” Jasmine called.
“I have a Ministry order here, demanding entrance to search for one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. If you do not allow entrance, your home will be entered by force and you will be remanded to custody pending a hearing on obstruction of justice before the Wizengamot,” the boy said, it had been rehearsed but the timing of his words wasn’t quite smooth enough to be natural – or authoritative.
Jasmine snickered to herself – they could certainly try to enter the house by force. They probably wouldn’t like the result, though. She waved a hole in the bush again to see the boy brandishing the scroll again, “I don’t understand,” she said, her expression was one of utter confusion. “Why are you searching for him here? Why aren’t you at Hogwarts? He does live there, you know.”
“As I’m sure you’re well aware of, Madam, Dumbledore defied several Ministry edicts, assaulted several members of the Ministry, including the Minister himself then escaped. We have reason to believe that he is here.”
Affronted, she demanded, “Are you calling me a liar? I’ll have you know that my galleons pay your salary! I have never been so insulted in my entire life!” She sounded just as her mother did in a howler when Jasmine had been caught in the proverbial cookie jar at school. Adding just a bit more screech, “And how do I know that the piece of paper that you’re waving around isn’t a portkey to whisk me off to Voldemort? I don’t know who you are! I have never seen you in my life, Associate Under-Leftenant Weasel and… and… your… your goon brigade!” She tucked the silent but clinging Arielle closer.
The boy spluttered and adjusted his glasses over bulging eyes. His freckled face turned fuchsia. “Dumbledore left the school yesterday. He’s not been seen but he is under arrest. Ask the Ministry! Floo the Minister’s office to verify the warrant!”
“I’ll do just that!” she hefted the sleepy but very interested Ari and marched into the house. After settling Arielle on a divan, she tossed Floo powder into the fireplace, settled her body down and yelled for the Ministry.
A nasal voiced Floo-perator with dishwater pincurls answered in the switching room, one hand ready to switch the fire to the proper office, “Ministry of Magic, which office, please?”
“I want to speak to someone about Albus Dumbledore!” Jasmine demanded in ringing tones.
“One moment, please,” the woman said. “Margie, there’s another one…”
The woman’s commentary was interrupted when she pulled the lever and Jasmine’s head spun to the Minister of Magic’s office. Jasmine had only been there once, for a spot of dynamagus work when the Ministry dynamagi were both sick.
“May I help you?” asked the secretary who was clearly used more for eye candy than dictation.
“My name is Jasmine Swan and there is a child outside who claims to be working for your office and I want to know why he is demanding entrance to my home when everyone knows that Dumbledore is the best, most powerful, most kindhearted and most well-meaning wizard in all of England! How do I know that this Weasel kid isn’t going to try and kill me and how dare you send someone to search my home when I haven’t done a damned thing wrong? How dare you? What is the Ministry coming to when innocent people are being harassed just for the amusement of that boorish lout Fudge? I want to know who ordered this! I want to know why my taxes aren’t being used to catch Voldemort instead of chasing after my great-grandfather who hasn’t ever done a single thing wrong except not take the Minister’s seat when it was offered to him and then gave that idiot advice everything he needed to do anything more than pee!”
In a dither, the buxom blonde wearing rather skimpy robes, tossed a piece of paper through the green flames and closed her side of the connection before Jasmine could take another breath.
Settling back on her haunches, Jasmine read the Edict of Search and Arrest for Dumbledore. Sadly, it appeared totally legal.
“Hmph,” sniffed Jasmine and trotted outside to release the hawthorns, calling for Arielle to be still until she got back in.
Jasmine demanded in a furious whisper an hour later, “I certainly hope that you’ve enjoyed scaring my child and pawing through my lingerie drawer. Is that how you get your jollies, by fabricating excuses to play in other people’s underwear?” Arielle had fallen asleep in her lap, so Jasmine couldn’t follow the Ministry team around, haranguing them. Instead, she’d settled for making snide comments in true Snape style. The Ministry idiot stood about, looking officious but staying silent while Jasmine’s glare dared him to take a seat in the living room.
The male Auror was still upstairs when the pink haired one entered from the barn. The hem of her robes were chewed – Jasmine had warned her about Glastaig- and her hand was scratched – Jasmine had also warned her about Florentine.
The pink-haired Auror said to Weasley, “He isn’t out here. We’ve searched top to bottom and wasted enough of this nice lady’s time. There are other places to go, plus the Minister’ll be wanting to see you ‘afore bedtime.”
Disgruntled, Weasley held out his hand, “There’s one more thing we’ll need to do before leaving – check Miss Swan’s wand. Please hand it over.”
Glaring, Jasmine tugged her wand from its sheath at her waist and nearly flung it at the boy.
He bobbled it, then Pink-Hair tried to catch it, knocked it aside then caught it in a dive. Jasmine rolled her eyes and looked at the idiot, saying nothing. He stiffened his spine and nodded.
She tugged an instrument out of her cloak. It looked like half a scale, to which a short quill was tied with a golden ribbon, hovering over a bit of foolscap. As soon as the woman set Jasmine’s wand on the scale, the quill quivered then began writing:
Guard release
Guard release
Levitation
Leviation
Cut
Cut
Stir
Cut
Cut
Summon plate plate
Summon glasses, spoons
Close
Open
Summon beef
Slice
Summon courgettes
Summon milk
Summon eggs
Summon flour
Summon water
Summon pot
Close
Open
Move
Move
dynomagus
Fire
Cut
Heal
Cut
Weigh
With a flick of her wand and an extremely sour expression, Pink-Hair stilled the quill, handed Jasmine’s wand back to her and tucked the instrument back into her pocket. “Nice dinner you had there.”
Before Jasmine could do anything but glare, there was a huge thud and clatter from upstairs. The male Auror gallumped down the stairs, rubbing his head. Arielle blinked awake and sat up.
Jasmine stroked Ari’s long hair and snarled at the trio, “And thanks ever so much for waking my daughter. I hope you’re proud of yourselves.”
The Auror ignored her and reported, “Naught but two ghouls in the attic. One of them has a stack of bricks.”
Weasley stood straight, chin up, chest out and said, “We at the Ministry thank you for your time and patience. We will be leaving now. We are sorry for any inconvenience.” Again, it seemed like a recitation.
Jasmine only glared and cuddled Arielle.
“In the interest of public safety, please alert the Ministry if Dumbledore tries to contact you. He is no longer the same man that you know. He is considered a dangerous insurgent.”
Jasmine still glared and shushed Ari when she stared to speak.
The three walked out the door but returned in a moment, begging to be let out the gate. Jasmine released the Hawthorns and watched them confer, then disapparate.
Arielle looked up at her whispered, “Mama, can I talk now?”
“Of course, baby, let’s get you to bed,” Jasmine said and scooped the little girl up.
“That man said there were two ghouls in the attic but we only have Albert,” said Ari sleepily.
“I think he was just confused, baby. Let’s get to bed, it’s late,” responded Jasmine, her lips twitching. She’d lecture her great-grandfather about tossing bricks at Aurors later.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The batches of Wolfesbane Potion Kiaya had made the night before were already on their ways to the two werewolves that she worked for via owl but this batch was for Lupin. Snape had started it that morning but was called away. The potion needed tending, though. In true Snape fashion, he’d ordered Kiaya to finish it and call a house elf for delivery. She might have objected to his tone, but too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours to make objecting to his tone worthwhile. With Dumbledore gone, no one was safe, not from Umbridge, not in his or her job, not from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The door opened without a knock, just as Kiaya was straining the potion, the final step before bottling,
“Hem Hem…”
“Yes, Miss Umbridge? How may I help you?” Kiaya asked politely.
“Headmistress. I am Headmistress now,” the toad woman corrected. The bow atop her head bobbled in satisfaction.
“Of course. I’m terribly sorry. Headmistress, how may I help you?” Kiaya acceded without a conciliatory smile. The inside of her lip was raw from biting. When she tried to bite, it stung until she found a spot to chew on.
“What is it that you’re working on?” questioned the other woman, stalking to the front of the work table.
“A potion requested by Madam Pomfrey, to cure a hex on skin,” Kiaya lied without looking at the woman, hoping that her cheeks weren’t blooming. She was intensely glad for Mr. Basilton’s old instructions to put everything away once it was used. It wouldn’t do to have wolfsbane and silver sage on the table when lying.
The older woman reached to touch the herbs in the sieve; Kiaya yanked them away, only to receive a dirty look. “It wouldn’t do to touch it, there are some powerful ingredients in this that could damage healthy skin,” muttered Kiaya. It was true; wolfsbane was a poison. It was one thing to lie to the woman; it was another to kill her.
“Hem hem,” the woman coughed. “I see, then. When will it be ready? The girl did nothing to deserve this horrible hex cast upon her by malicious students disobeying the rules of this school and Ministry.”
From what Kiaya had heard from Snape, the girl certainly had deserved having “SNEAK” branded across her forehead, but no one was going to say such a thing in front of Umbridge. Poppy Pomfrey hadn’t been in much of a panic when she’d come to the dungeons asking Kiaya and Snape to find a cure for the hex, since no spell would remove it. Still concentrating on the Wolfsbane Potion, Kiaya said, “It will be several hours. This,” she wiggled her elbow, “is only a middle stage. It’ll have to be distilled then turned into a cream with another Bundinium solution added before its safe to use on human skin.”
“As soon as it’s ready, take it right up to the hospital. The poor dear,” the woman clucked as she turned away, “she’ll get better soon and that dreadful man will be cau....” the door slammed behind her.
Shaking her head, Kiaya closed up the bottles and jars, carefully packed the solids into a jar and wrote up instructions for their use. They would either make Lupin vilely ill or improve the potion’s effectiveness. Either way, there was one more step to a solution in the jar. She placed containers in a bag and summoned a house elf, who took the bag and disappeared with a POP.
She heard a voice behind her. Shivers ran up her spine at the silk and velvet of the sound. She didn’t look back.
“Was that the Wolfsbane Potion?”
“Yes, I’ve just finished.”
“Did you find a cure for the hex?”
“No, not yet.”
“Have you worked on it at all?”
“No, not yet.”
“Good.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Dear Hermione,
I got your letter, well done sending it through Miss Roundtree. Now that Dumbledore is gone, it’s a certainty that all letters will be searched. Believe me when I tell you that Dumbledore is safe. I shan’t tell you where he is, that would be dangerous. He is safe though, and nearby enough to find out if you’re in trouble. Tell Harry that he did well in not drinking Umbridge’s tea, you’re right; it probably was laced with a truth potion. In the future, remember that it is possible to transfigure the potion into another substance – like tea or water, before drinking it.
Tell the Weasely twins to be careful – expulsion is the least of their worries. Umbridge could manage to trump up some charge to get them into Azkaban if she finds out who pulled off that stunt. By any chance, did someone get pictures? I should like to see them. I’m sure Sirius would too, if he took an interest in anything but drinking his vile smelling tea and kicking Kreacher around. I’ll shove the pictures in front of his face, if you can get them for me, it might remind him of some of the scrapes we got into at Hogwarts – though to be honest, that one is a winner.
Yours,
Remus
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The small hand shaking his shoulder roused him from a sensual dream about his wife. Instead of demanding that the offending creature explain itself, he just waved it away. Immediately, the house elf disappeared. Lucius knew why the creature had woken him – he’d instructed it to.
Lucius rolled over and pulled a wand out of his nightstand drawer. It wasn’t the wand he normally carried and it had never been registered with the Ministry, but what the Ministry didn’t know wouldn’t hurt it. Well, not yet, at least. Borgin had sworn up and down that its true owner wouldn’t miss it. – Malfoy figured the poor slob was dead.
“Narcissa,” he said, stroking her shoulder. Lucius counted on a drowsy Narcissa being more amenable to suggestion. She awoke, dazed with sleep. He continued. “I need you to do something for me.”
She looked at him, blinking sleepily. “What is it?”
He turned around again, holding the old, scuffed wand. The tip was thin; she could see a bit of the unicorn-hair core sticking out of it
“Whose is that?”
“It doesn’t matter. I got it from old Borgin. We’ll need it.”
“For?”
“Remember our little Unforgivable strategy several years ago?”
She remembered his ‘strategy’ well. It had kept them both out of Azkaban ten years ago and amused her sister, Bella, to no end. She nodded and tried not to show fear or resignation.
“Excellent. I’ll go first.”