My heart skipped a beat as the photo came to life. There we were, Jacob and I, jumping up and down and grinning at Mom. She must have thought it was because we were excited. Mischievous, giggling, and making silly faces at each other. Little did she...
We tell our stories differently, don't we, you and I?
— Paula Hawkins, "Into the Water"
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Whispers began as she entered the Great Hall, striding with solemn, predatory grace. Heavy boots thudded on the stone floor. Thud! Thud! The woman didn't pause, heading straight for Dumbledore, who observed her with curiosity behind his spectacles.
"...so, please welcome Madam Patricia Rakepick, the Chief Curse-Breaker at Gringotts, who has kindly agreed to investigate the phenomenon of the infamous Cursed Vaults at Hogwarts."
Dozens of eyes bore into me, like Billywigs' stingers, and the hall fell uncomfortably quiet. There were a few scattered claps, which strangely made me feel uneasy. Madam Rakepick raised her hand, calling for silence.
"What a surprise it was when Professor Dumbledore found me in Brazil during my research beneath Castelobruxo School," she said, flashing a smile that sent a shiver down my spine. "As a student here at Hogwarts, I was convinced that the Cursed Vaults existed, but the faculty chose to ignore my warnings."
I involuntarily noticed the cloud that crossed McGonagall's face. Rakepick continued, her voice smooth, with a touch of amusement, as if she were entertained by what was happening.
"I may ask some of you to describe what you've witnessed. I may even ask some of you to help with my investigations."
Bill leaned forward eagerly, not taking his eyes off her attire and her cloak fastened with a brooch. Rakepick inadvertently brushed her hand, and the cloak swung aside, revealing the intricacies of her wand holster, a belt adorned with vials, and even a knife. She surveyed the room, and for a moment — just a fleeting moment — we locked eyes.
"But I will not tolerate your unsolicited interference. From now on, stay away from the Vaults... and stay out of my way."
Her words hit me like a whip. I squinted, not quite grasping what it was about this woman that repelled me. Was it her authority? Her confidence bordering on arrogance? Or perhaps her unwavering professionalism? But Hogwarts already had its Curse-Breakers — Bill, Rowan, and me, after all.
Was Patricia Rakepick indeed the one Dumbledore had been seeking throughout the past year?
Rowan discreetly squeezed my hand beneath the table, and I squeezed back. Her whisper tickled my ear. "Look at Ben! He seems... quite impressed."
Benjamin was seated at the Gryffindor table, facing us. He looked unusually pale, resembling one of Hogwarts' ghosts, and his lips moved as if he was speaking to himself, probably muttering something comforting. I hadn't seen him this troubled since our venture into the Vault of Fear. What—
Suddenly, Dumbledore clapped his hands, and the long tables were flooded with food and drink. A feast! The tables sagged under the weight of roast meats, pies, puddings, juices, and even Butterbeer. I reached for my fork and knife, but a gentle touch on my hand halted me, as light as a feather.
