𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐜𝐞 | ʜ. ᴊ. ᴘ. [ hiatus ]

• 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 •

❾¾ ⌁☍ ♪ ‹ 𝓶𝓪 𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓬𝓮 › ♪ ☍⌁¾❾

They had been at Grimmalaud Place for more than four days, Mrs. Weasley kept them busy with some house pests; doxies, chizpurfles, bundimuns and many others. But neither of them dared approach an empty cupboard or non-host's receptacle; it's boggarts dwelling.

There has been no further news from Adrien and Persephone since Persephone sent a patronus to Scamander's mansion nor was there any sign of a demigod coming straight to a member of the Order of the Phoenix. This disturbed Mal's mind, bad images haunted her as if she would lose the people she loves about soon. It's not uncommon for Mal to have nightmares or get glimpses of visions, but not from her parents.

Moreover, this is a dangerous mission . . . a lot of possibilities that could happen to them.

Mal can only hold it in, she doesn't want to make other people worry, especially in circumstances where she shouldn't pay attention to her. But other than that, she couldn't fool Sirius who was very care.

Every night they shared stories, it made Mal feel better and entertained because Sirius occasionally pranked Neige in his Animagus form.

"They're incredible couple, you know?" said Sirius softly as the two of them sat in the dining room, sipping coffee. "I never heard of or knew even saw your mother lose a battle, even your father is one of the most skilled students in our generation."

"Yes, I'm sure." said Mal slowly, look down to her lemon tea. “It's just that sometimes it's really hard to control this power — blocking Thompson from entering my mind. It makes me sometimes — overthinking and restless.”

Sirius looked at Mal deeply, pushed his coffee a little away as he leaned closer to Mal. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand.

"Look, let's say you're water," Sirius said as he swung his wand, a glass of water appeared before them. "Oil is your power," he twirl his wand as he poured enough oil into a glass of water. "and Thompson is ink." and Sirius tapped his wand into the glass, a drop of ink poured. "See? It's hard for ink to reach water because oil repels it, water and oil ain't get along either." he continued. “but over time, the ink breach the oil and —”

“Contaminating the water.”  finished Mal, watching the ink quickly spread making the water pitch black. "What should I do, Sirius?"

Sirius smiled weakly.

"Simple," Sirius said calmly. "You have to believe in yourself that whatever is on your mind is normal and humane, but don't let Thompson find an opening to infiltrate your mind."

Even worse, Mundungus Fletcher got shouted by Mrs. Weasley for past four days for his neglect of keeping an eye on Harry, more than when she nagged the Weasley twins when they carelessly Apparated.

"Come on, Mum, this is our chance!" cheered Fred on one morning, who suddenly Apparated behind furnace.

"Since yesterday we have to take care of our image," George added, Mal and Hermione yelped in surprise as he Apparated between them, embracing their shoulders. "That veiled town lass stole my heart."

George sighed with a loving smile, placing his right hand on his chest. Mal, Hermione, Cordelia and Ginny giggled and Briella gave a faint smile as she stroked Crookshanks on her lap.

“Once no,” Mrs. Weasley said lowly, yet dangerous, made the Weasley twins dead silent. “means no.”

The Weasley twins ain't having it, shared googly looks but then, there are identical mischievous smirks on their face as Mrs. Weasley walked pass them with a dusted nap around her wrist. Fred leaned closer to George, whispering something on his ear making his smirk blooming bigger.