𝐔𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥

Appare Vestigium

It was Friday, October 30th, 10 am, when Lorraine and Alecto apparated in Manchester, right in front of the door of Beatrice's last known residence. It was an anonymous room in a cheap-looking city condo; there were few windows, and none were clean. The stained moquette of the corridor made Lorraine's stomach turn.

"Appare Vestigium," uttered Alecto.

"It's useless. It's been at least three months."

"How would you know that?"

"I asked the landlord. Honestly, Alecto, you should do your due diligence before recklessly flickering your wand around in the Muggle world."

Lorraine was annoyed by her aimless determination. Moreover, her lack of caution made Alecto a liability.

Unexpectedly, a faint, blue track appeared in the corridor. It was floating before their eyes, illuminating the door and disappearing down the stairs that led to the apartment.

Could I have a more foolish sister?

"Would you look at that," said Alecto smugly, "looks like I was right."

It was clear that she was trying to prove herself after the defeat. Lorraine was carefully observing her every move, all but glad to have her as a traveling partner.

She didn't reply and began walking in the direction the track was headed, ignoring Alecto.

She apparated here repeatedly. A Wingardium Leviosa here and there. What a classic.

Beatrice had always been tragically flawed in her Teleportation skills, despite the many hours Lorraine had spent trying to teach her. Wingardium Leviosa had always been her go-to; Lorraine had never understood why she would prefer it to such an efficient art, but it worked. It was the only reason why she wasn't still with her, with them, after all: they couldn't track her down over her jump. She had disappeared. If it wasn't so tragic, it would have been amusing.

Lorraine, skimming her fingers on the grey walls, tried to visualize her sister walking down the corridor with the dark coat she had gifted her on a forgotten birthday; she imagined her opening the front door with her groceries and her bags, or trying to find her keys. She realized that she couldn't visualize such a casual image. Beatrice was now a stranger. She wasn't even Beatrice anymore.

That track, however, was unmistakable: she could have recognized it among countless others.

All that was left to do was to follow it.

Lorraine knew where it would take them: to Hogwarts and, more specifically, to its Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Blanche Less.

When she had visited her the month before, she almost hadn't recognized her. Beatrice looked weary, frustrated, the thinnest she'd ever been. She had never seen such a grave expression on her face, not even when she was about to take her Death Eater vow. The horrified, cold stare she had given her had stuck with Lorraine.

Her heart had dropped when she, her own sister, had pronounced her name with such contempt.

"Lorraine?"

At that exact moment, Lorraine had realized the vastity of the abyss that their choices and the passage of time had put between them: Beatrice was unreachable, lost in an entirely separate world from the one she belonged to. She looked misplaced, even, in that Hogwarts tower. The only thing she hadn't changed was her braid, the same one they used to do when they were much younger.

Why did she use magic here? She knew we'd track her.

To be precise, she knew that they would track her to her death.

Lorraine couldn't wrap her head around Beatrice's imprudence. As she and Alecto silently followed the track down the stairs, she couldn't help but ask herself: did she want us to find her?