[This is a work of ‘fanfiction’, essentially a
tribute to the world created by JK Rowling. No infringement of copyright is
intended, and neither is any commercial exploitation.]
Previous Chapters
Chapter 7
Confrontations
Rose
would not have been able to say exactly what it was that she intended to do.
While she had been hiding under the Invisibility Cloak inside the cave, the
thought of revealing herself and shouting out, “That's not George Weasley! It's
an impostor!” had struck her several times. However, better sense had
prevailed.
She
knew that there would necessarily be a time gap from her making her presence
known to the D.A. realising what was happening – time enough for the fake Uncle
George to cause grievous harm, if not worse, to at least a few people before
being overpowered. What IS this creature anyway, Rose wondered, that
can take on the shape and voice of Uncle George? I suppose she is connected to
the Routers, but surely she must have some magical powers herself. Is she a
Witch who has aligned herself with them? Hmm…that's not very likely and even if
she was, I don't remember seeing a Witch or Wizard who could do a perfect morph
into another person with a voice to match. Teddy Lupin is a Metamorphagus, but
his voice gives him away most times.
Rose
emerged from the cave into the fading daylight. The trees cast long shadows
across the snow and Rose took advantage of that to step slowly away from the
cave's mouth, careful not to leave too-noticeable footsteps in the snow. Some
of the people who had been in the meeting seemed to have already left.
Rose
could see her parents chatting with the pseudo-George. She quickly ran her mind
through the options she had before her. I have an Invisibility Cloak and the
element of surprise, she thought, which means I can definitely get one
shot at this creature before she knows what hit her. The question is – will it
be enough?
Rose
watched as Ron and Hermione waved their goodbyes and walked a few meters,
hand-in-hand, before Disapparating. Neville and Parvati too went on their way,
taking the road back to Hogsmeade on foot. There was now nobody around apart
from Rose and her quarry. With the impostor’s broom having been sent off in
Scorpius' possession, Rose was pretty certain that she would waste a while
searching in the woods for it. A bit of stealth would then give Rose the
perfect opportunity to hit the spy from behind. I need a spell that will
prevent her from taking the news of this meeting back to the Routers. In fact I
should be able to prevent her from going back at all! If I can neutralise this
spy that would make their life a little difficult and right now, I'm all for
anything that makes the Routers’ life a little difficult.
She
continued to keep a close on eye her as both of them stepped deeper into the
woods, the fake Uncle George obviously getting flustered as tree after tree
revealed no hidden broom. Rose kept her distance, careful to stay out of
earshot and only just within eyesight. Ahead of her she could discern the
figure of her Uncle George turn and begin to walk back towards her. She began
to move slowly to her right, waiting for the imposter to advance back in her
direction. By dint of manoeuvring in a large semi-circle as the impostor walked
in a straight line, Rose soon found herself standing directly behind her
target.
Rose
swallowed nervously. It would have to be a Memory charm. As powerful a charm as
she could muster. She had never actually cast 'Obliviate' before though
she had studied about it in Professor Flitwick's class. Rose knew that if she
could pull off a powerful enough spell, she could effectively wipe out the entire
memory of the victim. That should do the trick, she thought, it will
leave this creature not only unable to take any information back to the
Routers, she will probably be unable to even remember that they exist.
A
moment of self-doubt crossed her mind as she wondered whether it was not rather
cruel to wipe out the memory of a person in that manner, but she brushed it
aside. One has to be pragmatic in these things, she thought. I can’t
afford to be nice. Besides, it might be all for the better.
Her
hand trembling, she held out her wand. She felt the front of the Invisibility
Cloak part under her hand. She was aiming right at her target – the back of
Uncle George's head.
“OBLIVIATE!” Rose
yelled, swishing the wand in a downward motion. The spell caught its victim
squarely in the back of the head and Rose smiled with satisfaction as she saw
the fake George fall forward into the snow. Obviously the full force of
the spell had caused something similar to a concussion. She raced over to the
fallen body, mindless of the Invisibility Cloak having slipped off her.
Rose
wasn’t sure exactly what to expect. She’d executed the spell well enough, she
was sure of that. Performing a brute force memory charm was a lot easier than
trying to do the more surgical memory modifications that they tried to learn in
the classroom. You just had to focus all your magical energy into the spell and
aim. She supposed Scorpius and probably even Martin could do their memory
charms with a lot more precision, but that wasn’t what she had been trying for
anyway.
She
knelt by the fallen body and with a little effort managed to push it over on
its back. Inside the thick winter coat, she could feel that she was no longer
dealing with Uncle George’s rotund body. The person she had turned over was a
much lighter weight, and Rose guessed that the morph had worn off with the loss
of consciousness. So let’s see what you really look like, she said as
she brushed the flecks of snow off her victim’s face with her handkerchief.
Rose
couldn’t hold back a little gasp as she looked upon the visage looking up at
her from the snow. The woman wasn’t just beautiful – she was breath-taking.
Rose, though not privy to Scorpius’ assessment of her own physical attractions
had nonetheless always considered herself fairly pretty. On seeing the
youthful, fair-complexioned, sharp-featured woman before her, she wondered
whether she might not need to change the scale of reference a bit. The colour
seemed to be returning to the cheeks and Rose thought she detected a flicker a
movement in her eyes. Sure enough, a few seconds later Rose was treated to the
sight of seeing the woman struggle to a squatting position, holding her head in
her hands with a pained expression – the surest signs of a successful memory
charm.
Rose
got back on her feet. She held her wand behind her back, hand firmly grasped
around it, waiting for any sign of danger. For some reason though, Rose didn’t
feel threatened. Maybe it was how the woman looked – she wasn’t just beautiful,
Rose told herself, but it was a very friendly kind of beauty. She looked
kind and playful – she looked like someone who might be a friend, and nothing
like a spy for a deranged organisation of Muggles and Squibs out to destroy the
wizarding world. For a moment, the thought that she might be the victim of an
Imperius curse flashed through Rose’s mind.
“Wo bin ich?”
asked the woman, looking hopefully at Rose.
“I…err?”
Rose hesitated.
“Ou suis-je?”
she said again.
Rose
shook her head. Hadn’t she just heard this woman speak English in the cave when
she was pretending to be Uncle George? Had she forgotten how to speak as well?
On the other hand what she had said didn’t sound like gibberish – it sounded
like a foreign language.
“Where
am I?”
This
time the question was pretty straightforward.
“You’re
in Scotland,” said Rose truthfully.
She
put a hand to her forehead again.
“Why
am I in Scotland? Did Hernwig send me here?”
“I
don’t know,” said Rose. “Who is Hernwig?”
“My
master.” The reply came accompanied by a slight groan. “No – wait, that doesn’t
feel right either.”
“Who
are you?” asked Rose. Should she remember who she is? How bad can the effect
of a complete Obliviate be?
She
cast a look at Rose that was almost playful.
“My
name? Oh, you’d never be able to pronounce it right, you pretty little morsel –
but I have had many names over the years. Short names, long names, loving names
and derogatory names –" she clutched her head again – “what’s happened to
me?”
“What
are you called now?”
“Can’t
seem to remember…I do remember Hernwig though – he used to call me Cherry.”
“Well,
Cherry then…who’s this Hernwig?”
“More
to the point – who are you?”
“I’m
Lily Evans,” replied Rose, lying through her teeth. “I was taking a walk when I
saw you lying on the ground, face down.”
“Well,
Lily, Hernwig was my master – I sense that he’s no longer with us. I have a new
master, I can sense his mind but I cannot remember much about him or anything
that’s happened to me in this life.”
“This
life?” asked Rose, realisation beginning to dawn upon her. Hernwig Hubstein
– wasn’t that the dead German’s name? “You’re Hubstein’s Apsara – the Fire
Nymph!”
Rose
kicked herself mentally the moment she blurted that out. Cherry gave her a
puzzled look.
“I
suppose you’re partly right – I am an Apsara and Hernwig Hubstein was my
master, but I’m not his any more – I returned to the Other Realm when he died
and was called again a few days ago by another man. I’m not a Fire Nymph either
– that’s…well that’s another of us. Though how you’ve heard about us I can’t
tell. Generally people outside India and East Asia don’t know much about us.”
“I…read
about you in one of Hubstein’s books,” said Rose, “Just putting two and two
together.”
“Well
I don’t know what he wrote in those things. Never got around to reading them.
Can you give me a hand?”
“You
said the Fire Nymph was ‘another of us’? Are there more like you?” Rose asked
as she helped Cherry to her feet.
“Oh
yes. Speaking of Fire Nymphs, I could use one right now. Is there a place where
I can get a warm fire? I’m freezing here.”
Rose
thought for a moment and then decided against trying to cast a Fire spell. She
wasn’t sure she could cast one powerful enough to last very long in the snow.
“You
can make your way to the village of Hogsmeade,” Rose said ingratiatingly,
“where you can find a friendly inn or two. I’ll walk with you – tell me more
about you – and the Apsaras. How many of you are there?”
Cherry
still had a hand on her forehead but she allowed herself to be led towards the
path.
“A
thousand and a few. But eight of us are the primary harem of the Gods.”
“A
harem of the Gods?”
“Yes
– what DID Hernwig put in that book of his? In the Other Realm where we live,
that’s what we are.” She paused and began to speak in a singsong voice. “Eight
are the consorts of the Gods, their pleasure and their pride, twenty-six are
their companions, to while away the idle hours, eighty-four are their dancers,
the finery of their courts, two hundred and seventy-four are their handmaidens,
the keepers of their trust and eight hundred and ninety-two are their servants,
who fulfil their every need. It sounds a lot better in the original
Sanskrit,” she finished with a laugh, and then put her hand to her forehead
again.
“And
you are one of the eight?’
“Yes,
they call me Chitralekha in that place.”
“Can
all of you be summoned?”
“I
believe so, but it’s very difficult magic. We’re never told how it’s done, but
the call comes and we must obey it – and the caller.”
“You
have no free will?”
“We
have to obey orders. Orders…I had orders. I’m here on orders…Our minds link to
that of our masters when we are called. My master is – I see him now; I can
feel him…he…”
Cherry
turned suddenly to face Rose.
Be calm, Rose, the girl told herself, as she tightened her grip on her wand.
“You!
You’re a wizard – you tampered with my memory!” Cherry’s voice was accusatory.
“I
did no such thing,” exclaimed Rose.
“Yes!
I can’t remember anything from this life – it must be a memory spell. Hernwig
told me about them. You couldn’t touch my past memories. My master can reach me
still – he’s asked me to – there was a meeting – I had to – I can’t remember!”
Rose
almost felt sorry for Cherry as she turned an anguished face towards the ground
and almost crumpled to her knees.
“You
don’t know what this means – I have failed. I will be punished now – oh, the
bad masters can punish us for this. And the broomstick – you must have taken
that too. It was valuable, my master will torture me!”
“Look,
I didn’t mean…” began Rose, stepping forwards, in a sympathetic tone. She
didn’t get to complete the sentence, as Cherry lunged at her and brought her
down to the ground in a single movement. Rose felt the other woman’s weight on
her and tried to point her wand, but her wrist was being held in a vice-like
grip.
“Want
to know more about us? Curious girl, aren’t you?” Cherry was speaking, her
mouth uncomfortably close to Rose’s ear, “Well, let me tell you a little more,
Miss Evans. We don’t like being played for fools. Oh, you poor, pretty girl…you
messed with the wrong creature.” Rose caught her breath as she felt the weight
on her chest increase. She could vaguely feel the wand was still in her hand,
but the Apsara’s grip was unrelenting despite Rose’s struggles.
“Let
me go,” Rose whispered.
“Let
you go? Where?” Rose winced as the Apsara’s eyes locked into hers, piercing
through her. “I like you, my little flower. I think I’ll just stay here until
I’ve had my way with you.”
“What
are you talking about?” Rose gasped. “I didn’t mean any harm.”
“Didn’t
you? A full-power memory charm isn’t harmful at all, is it?” came the sarcastic
reply.
“I
thought you were out to destroy us!” Rose managed to scream. She felt the
weight on her chest become a little lighter. The Apsara rose to a straddling
position, still keeping Rose’s wrist in her hand.
“There
are forces in the world that you had best learn not to fight with,” she said,
in a softer tone, “for you might come to harm no matter how you deal with them.
You’re a beautiful girl, Lily. I suppose that isn’t your real name?” Rose felt
a hand slip into her cloak’s pocket and the little monogrammed case in which
she kept her drawing pencils emerged in her adversary’s hands. “Rose, is it?
I’m very strong, Rose. Much stronger than any man, let alone a woman. I could
break your neck like breaking the stem of the flower whose name you bear. I
could break the trunk of a tree with as much ease. My sisters can do other
things – with fire, with water, with the air. Keep away. I don’t know who my
master is, or what he wants, but if he has me on his side, I don’t fancy the
chances of whoever he’s against. He’s calling me. It’s urgent.”
Rose
felt her wrist being twisted. The pain was unbearable. Her wand fell from her
grip. The pressure on her wrist relaxed, and she saw her wand being flung into
the distance. A hand, surprisingly gently, ran through her brown hair even as
another pressed around her neck. Rose coughed, struggled, gasped for air as the
warm breath of the Apsara once again fanned her face.
“You’re
too beautiful to kill. Don’t ever get into a place where I don’t have the
choice not to,” were the last words she heard before the darkness closed in
around her.
* * *
“Rose?”
The
voice seemed to be coming from miles away.
“You
all right?”
That
faraway feeling again. Who was it? She just wanted to sleep. To stay in the
blackness for a while longer. It was comfortable there. The real world was cold
and unfriendly.
“Rose!
Wake up! You must!”
The
voice brought to her mind a blurred vision of a thin, tall boy with flaxen hair
and steel-grey eyes. He was handsome and witty and athletic and intelligent and
everything she had ever dreamed about – and he was splashing water in her face.
Her eyes sprang to life.
“Malfoy!
What in Circe’s name are you doing?”
“I
thought you’d been offed!” he said.
“You
nitwit! At least stop the water!”
“Oh
yes – erm, Finite!” he said, and his wand stopped spouting.
She
rose, still spluttering.
“Where
do you think you get off, Malfoy, splashing me with water?”
“Rose!
You were lying unconscious in the snow in the middle of nowhere. You might have
thought to thank me for rescuing you.”
For
a moment, she looked at him blankly. Then her thoughts began to congeal
together in her head and she remembered the events of the evening.
“My
wand!” she exclaimed, staggering to her feet.
“Lumos,”
said Scorpius, lighting up the surroundings. They scoured the area for a
few minutes before Rose found her wand lying some twenty feet away from where
she had fallen.
“Shall
we go now? It’s almost dinnertime.”
The
darkness was evidence enough that he was telling the truth.
“What
about James’ cloak?” she asked.
Another
search followed, though since Rose remembered where she had dropped it, not
much time was wasted. She noticed that Scorpius was still carrying around the
old broomstick that she’d given him. Cherry’s broomstick, she thought,
and shuddered. The one she said was very valuable. She caught a look at
the old, splintered wood and wondered what was special about it.
“NOW
can we go home, Weasley?” asked Scorpius wearily.
“Yes,
but how? We’d never reach in time if we walked.”
“I
don’t suppose you’d care to fly on the broomstick with me? It’s large enough
for us, I think since we’re both rather thin. We can fly to the Hogwarts gates
in no time – it’s very fast, believe me.”
“And
will Hagrid just let us in this late?”
“He
will if you let me wear the Invisibility Cloak,” said Malfoy, “If he thinks
it’s just you, I don’t think he’ll take it too seriously.”
This
was true. Hagrid was notoriously partial towards her and Hugo as well as to the
Potter children.
“I’ll
get on the broom – but don’t you try to lay a hand on me!”
“My
dear Weasley,” he said, with a touch of the Malfoy sarcasm, “I’ll be sitting in
front. It’s you touching me that I’ll have to worry about.”
Rose
wasn’t much of a flyer, though she didn’t actually fear it like her mother. She
could realise that the broom she was on was a speedy one, but didn’t give it
much thought beyond thinking that the speed must be what had made it valuable
to Cherry’s master. They landed about a hundred feet from the Hogwarts gates,
where Scorpius donned the Cloak and Rose took charge of the broomstick and
strode up to the gates.
A
few minutes wait after banging on the enormous door-knocker yielded the desired
result, and Hagrid appeared to open the door.
“’Blimey,
Rose! What are you doing here so late?”
“Got
myself locked in the little girls’ room back at the Three Broomsticks, Hagrid,”
said Rose, with the most innocent expression possible.
“The
things you get up to! Ah your father was just the same in his day. Come on in,
get running – or you’ll miss dinner.”
Rose
didn’t wait to be asked twice, and set off for the castle at a trot. Once they
were far enough away, she saw Scorpius next to her and slowed down her pace.
“Here
you go,” he said, handing her the Cloak.
“Thanks,
Scorpius,” she said, “thanks for everything.”
“It’s
all right, really. I was waiting for you at the Weasley shop for a long time
and you didn’t turn up so I thought I’d retrace my steps to where I’d left you.
Good thing I did. What happened to you back there?”
Rose
pondered for a while. It was tempting to say something to him. He wasn’t her
friend – though for a while it had seemed as though he might be – but he was a
very powerful wizard and Rose knew she’d feel a lot better if she could confide
in someone more knowledgeable than herself. She allowed a sigh to escape her.
It wasn’t worth thinking about. He was a Malfoy, after all.
“I
can’t tell you, Scorpius. I trust all was well with Uncle George?”
“Oh
yes, absolutely fine. We had a nice long chat.”
“That’s
a relief,” she said. I suppose the Routers contented themselves with
finding some way to prevent him from receiving the summons to the meeting and
left it at that. Who knows – maybe they had something planned that I prevented
by obliviating Cherry, she thought.
“Look,
Weasley – Rose…you can trust me, you know. I don’t like how you’ve been telling
me to do things and giving no reasons.”
“I’m
not proud of it either, Scorpius. Yes, there may be something going on. I had a
good reason to think Uncle George may have needed help – and I trusted you to
be the one to help him.”
“Why
can’t you trust me…always, Rose? We were friends once. We got off to a good
start.”
She
giggled. “You mean that time that I tripped over Albus’ cat and made James
misfire the hex he was shooting at you on the Hogwarts Express just before our
first year?”
“Yes,
that,” he laughed. “I must say Potter looked rather dashing with green hair the
rest of the week.”
“Yes,
Uncle Harry still teases him about it whenever he acts a little over-smart.”
“Oh
yes, I met your Uncle Harry too. He dropped by to visit Mr. Weasley.”
Rose
stopped short in her tracks.
“When?”
“Just
before I came looking for you. Mr. Potter came, we had a drink together and
then he left. I waited for a while longer and then came looking for you.”
“Did
he say anything…well, did he say anything?”
Scorpius
touched his head with a slightly puzzled expression.
“Can’t
say I remember anything…particular. I mean, we just talked, you know.
About…well I can’t remember that either.”
Rose
felt her heart beat faster. It was just possible that Scorpius had been at the
receiving end of a Memory charm as well. There was no way to be sure that she knew
of.
“You’re
absolutely sure Uncle George is well, though?”
“As
sure as I am that I lo…” he stopped with a blush.
They
were at the castle door now. The light from the lamps hung outside illuminated
their young faces with a red glow. For a moment, his grey eyes met her light
brown ones. Then she turned away.
“It’s
silly, Scorpius. You know it.”
“It
need not be, Rose.”
“It
is! You know it is. You and your ridiculous gifts.”
“One
gift, Rose.”
“One
extravagant gift, Scorpius.”
“It
was just a few spells, Rose,” said Scorpius eagerly. “You just never gave me a
chance to explain. I simply cast a freezing charm on some water from the lake;
cast a transfiguration spell to shape it into a rose; a colouring charm for the
red and green; a potion for the fragrance and another charm for the music…”
“That’s
exactly IT, Scorpius. It was a piece of magic beyond anything anyone of us has
ever done. That rose is still there – one year on and it’s still not lost its
shape or colour. It’s something that none of us can even think of – it’s…”
“It’s
something you thought only your mother could do?”
Rose
turned and stormed off towards the door. She had placed a hand on the latch
when she turned around and answered him.
“Yes,
Scorpius, it is exactly like that. And that’s why I hate it. It reminds me –
and Albus and James and Hugo and Martin and Elk and Lily that some of us are so
damn blessed with talent that the rest of us will always be mediocre by
comparison. It wasn’t a romantic gift, Malfoy. It was a reminder to me how
wonderful and clever you were compared to all of us.”
She
opened the door and stepped in, her features set in a defiant expression.
The
sight of her cousin James, standing inside, his arms folded and lips curled
disapprovingly, with his Prefect badge glinting, only served to harden her
expression further.
