An Exquisite Pain

Formulating Plans

Danielle's blessed unconscious was short-lived, however, as Tom immediately revived her. "What happened?" he asked as soon as she opened her eyes, his gaze wary and alert.

"Nothing…I was just shocked that Charlus Potter was dead. I thought the basilisk only went after Muggle-borns," Danielle croaked, hoping her Occlumency was working. She'd only had one lesson with Dumbledore, and that hadn't gone so well.

"Without anyone to control her, she will attack anyone," Tom replied. "She does not make a distinction between blood statuses."

Danielle was barely listening to him. She was still shaking uncontrollably. Dumbledore needed to hear the entire story; screw not changing the future! It had already been changed beyond repair.

Some of the wariness had left Tom's eyes, but he was still watching her closely. "Do you need a Calming Draught?" he asked.

Danielle nodded and attempted to stand, but Tom pushed her back down onto the bed. "Where do you think you are going?"

"To get a Calming Draught," she said, confused. "You mean you're going to get it for me?"

"Do not sound so surprised," Tom said, his eyes narrowing. "I will be back shortly."

"Have you ever thought of using contractions?" Danielle muttered, staring daggers at his back as he left the room.

As soon as he had disappeared, she heard a tapping at the window. There appeared to be a bird of some sort perched on the ledge. She got out of bed and went over to the window, where the barn owl she had sent to London the other morning was peering through the glass at her.

Danielle opened the window and the owl flew into the room, neatly dropping a letter into her outstretched hands. She folded it open eagerly and read the text inside:

Dear Clara,

My younger sister's name is Matilda, I believe. Matilda Stubbs. She's exactly a year younger than me, but I've never met her and I don't know where she is now. Have you heard something about her?

Billy

This was it: the confirmation of what Danielle had suspected ever since her dreams had started. Billy's long-lost sister was Danielle's maternal grandmother. He was her great-uncle.

Things were definitely getting strange now. Her parents had always told her that they had gone into hiding during the Second Wizarding War because they were Muggle-borns. But in her dream of last week, Yaxley had said, "They might have escaped though, if it hadn't been that the Dark Lord personally ordered your entire family's slaughter. Your brother was the first to go, wasn't he? He had the honor of being killed by the Dark Lord personally—"

Ice flooded through Danielle's veins and she had to grip the bedpost in order to avoid fainting again. Voldemort had personally killed Billy Stubbs—he'd ordered her family dead—he was the reason they had gone into hiding—but why had Danielle been sent to Paris to live with her grandparents? How had she survived Patrick and Matilda's deaths? And most important of all, who was William?

Danielle sank to the ground as Tom re-entered the room. He was next to her in a second. "I thought I told you not to move, Clara," he said, his tone reprimanding.

She stared vacantly up at him. All she could think was, You did it. You did it.

"What is in your hand?" Tom asked. He noticed the open window and the owl resting on the dressing-table. "Who wrote to you?"

When she didn't answer, he knelt down and saw Billy's letter tightly clenched in her fist. "Drink this," Tom ordered, handing Danielle a flask. She mutely took it and drained it in one, her muscles instantly relaxing as the potion flowed through her bloodstream.