Sneaking through the Austrian forest, Animo rubbed her dragon-skin gloves together, hoping to generate some sort of warmth while her breath billowed in her face.
"You are an idiot to come here again."
Animo sighed, blowing against her fingers. She didn't dare to use magic casually so close to her brother's fortress. With every spell, she increased her chances of being caught. "So you've told me."
The Demiguise, who had still refused to tell her his name, observed her mannerisms with a scathing gaze. Animo could never shake the feeling that the creature could see right through her. "But your plan is a decent one."
Her heartrate quickened, "do--." Animo cut herself off with a growl of frustration. Of course, the Demiguise was already gone, nothing but frozen fronds where his feet had stood.
Pulling back a bit of the undergrowth, Animo waited patiently. According to her previous trips to Nurmengard, one of Gellert's less influential henchmen would pass along the trail in a matter of minutes. Animo need only stun and obliviate him before taking his identity. She patted the inside pocket of her slacks to be sure the canteen still pressed against her skin. Disguise enchantments were fairly easy to ward against, but Polyjuice was nearly undetectable, provided the user only need it for a limited time. She tried not to think about Barty Crouch Jr., who had posed as Alastor Moody. She couldn't afford any instant of hesitation.
The whistling preceded the sound of bootsteps as a ruddy-faced Irishman emerged from the shadows, having newly apparated from an unknown location. He shoved a pouch into his pocket, the sound of clanging coins easy to distinguish amongst the hushed and freezing canopy.
The man was down before he had time to blink, thanks to Animo's non-verbal Stunning jinx. It was one of her strongest curses and Animo tried to muffle her sense of victory while she crept down from the hillside. A levitating charm lifted the man's body into the air and off the path, making it easy for Animo to avoid signaling an alarm.
She lifted a piece of the man's greasy hair, wincing at the foul odor of stale alcohol. The smell was always too reminiscent of her father. Plucking a strand quickly, Animo watched the potion in her flask bubble a murky shade of brown, not unlike the slime at the bottom of the Black Lake. The Slytherin Common Room certainly had a good view of that.
She plugged her nose, downing the brew in one swallow and hunched over while her insides burbled unpleasantly, pulsing with heat. Her knuckles swelled twice their usual size while her hair darkened and shot back into her skull, brushing the top of her forehead. After the most crippling of the sensations had passed, Animo reached over and stole the man's cap, stuffing it over her head and hoping she wouldn't contract some sort of disease. The smeared fabric felt as though it hadn't been washed in months.
Finally, Animo settled back on her haunches, pointing her wand at the man's temple. "Legilimens," she whispered hoarsely, remembering what Albus had taught her.
It had always been easier for Animo to block her mind than to read others and the man's memories assaulted her like a raging torrent, eager to pull her under their grasp. Gasping, Animo craned her focus on the most recent memory of Gellert, trying not to flounder as her brother reared into existence.
"Ah, Pickens," Gellert smirked, his violet eyes twinkling dangerously. Her brother sat in a rather ordinary chair at the edge of a hall, although his stance conveyed his authority. Gellert never fidgeted, nor blinked as he gave the Irishman a scathing once-over. "Do tell me that you were able to glean some information from your mission."
Pickens shifted on his feet and his nervous demeanor was easy to pick up on. Gellert observed him sharply, assessing every weakness. "I didn't hear no word 'bout the rock, sir," the man stuttered, pulling the scarf tighter around his neck, "but I did hear a bit 'bout the Dumbledore, sir."
Gellert made no movement, but there was a flame of interest in his gaze while he waited. However, Pickens seemed reluctant to say anymore and the wizard grew irritated. "Yes, go on."
"Word is he's trying to win favor with the Ministry." Pickens eyed Gellert, as if gauging his reaction, "get them to see the war from hees point o' view."
At this, Gellert swung up out of his seat and towards the window at the end of the corridor, which provided a view of a twilight sky, the stars cold and frosty. "I do wonder how he managed that. I've tried bribing them for years."
"Word is," Pickens seemed determined to not pin any more accountability on himself than necessary, "that he promised them political support, sir."
An amused smile tilted one end of Gellert's mouth. "And just how does Albus think he's going to convince the minister to acquis?" The question was not directed at Pickens, who was rather flustered trying to keep up with Gellert's train of thoughts. "Those fools are more biased than the papers accuse me of being," he waved a dismissive hand. "Leave me, Pickens." His gaze darkened to a royal purple. "And if our next encounter is so fruitless with information about the stone, I will be much less," the wizard paused, enjoying watching Pickens squirm, "agreeable."
Animo pulled out of Pickens' head with a groan, leaning back against the trunk behind her and ignoring the cold that laced up her spine. There was no doubt anymore, her brother wanted to be master of the Deathly Hallows. She reached up to touch the man's clammy brow. Pickens had not seemed frightened tonight, which could only mean that he had some sort of information to provide Gellert. Yet, Animo dared not risk entering his mind again. Her time was already running out.
Straightening her cap, she tottered towards the path, attempting to replicate Pickens' gait. She dared not step on the paved dirt, but kept an eye on its meandering through the trees as she drew near to Nurmengard. It did not bode well that Pickens was due to meet with Gellert. That was an encounter Animo was determined to avoid.
The next few paces seemed to last an eternity, with Animo's heart pounding against her chest with each step. Finally, she took a last left and the iron gate of the fortress loomed into view, the mists that trialed the mountain grass lifting to reveal the wicked spikes that lined the wall.
Swallowing once more, Animo pushed confidence into her stance, although not too much. Pickens was a rather disconcerted fellow. She walked up to the gate, wrapping a torn bit of cloth around her fist before raising her hand.
Suddenly, there was a flare of pain in her bicep and Animo nearly yelped, barely remembering to keep from grabbing her arm. The brand Gellert had given her as a child had not hurt her since, but now it blazed a fire through her veins.
The gate swung open silently, opening into an empty stone courtyard. Animo shivered at the carving of a chimera that reared its jaws in front of the door as she trudged towards the main entrance. Perhaps Gellert had charmed the fortress with his blood, as her brother was rather fond of that strain of dark magic. That would explain why Animo had been able to get through.
"Pickens."
The heavy walnut door cracked open of its own accord and Animo tried to hide her recognition at the tattooed face that peered through the entryway. Dauphina Hollifist was one of Gellert's acolytes and one of his first followers. The hooded-eyed woman was one of the few who had been kind to Animo as a child, passing her the occasional bit of candy or shooing the less pleasant of Gellert's accomplices away.
Animo grunted in response, tilting her head as if against the cold. "Let me in, will ya?" Her Irish accent was poor, but as Dauphina was a Seer, Animo was more likely to be caught through one of the woman's visions.
"Of course," Dauphina swept the door open and Animo shuffled into the warm corridor, which was lit with a series of torches bearing purple flame. The woman's hair glinted with the occasional silver strand, but outside of those, her tan face and Eastern accent were exactly as Animo had remembered.
Silently bemoaning her poor luck that she had been greeted by one of Gellert's inner circle, Animo took stock of her surroundings. The fortress had a strange sort of bustle inside its walls, with a variety of hooded and non-hooded figures passing between doors and secret entrances. A trio of short statured men to her right looked to be goblins, but Dauphina stepped into Animo's view before she could confirm her suspicions.
"Gellert is away on business, but he will be back tonight." Dauphina's dark gaze glittered as it pierced Animo's. Animo pulled at her scarf, mimicking Pickens' habits while she broke their stare. "I suggest you rest before. He is summoning most to a gathering in a few days. There are new developments afoot."
Animo furrowed her brow, rubbing the frayed edges of Picken's scarf, "favorable ones?"
"That is to be seen." Dauphina's tone was guarded while she swooped away, disappearing into a shadowed alcove.
Animo knew that she should be frustrated that she wasn't able to garner more details from such an important figure, but really all she could feel was great relief. Of all people, Dauphina was one of few who would remember Gellert's little sister and Animo was not sure what tells she might give away.
Taking the marble staircase to the right, she nearly ran into a tall, caped figure, and she muttered a quick apology. The man bared his fangs in response and Animo quickened her pace, beginning to truly notice the strange characters her brother had recruited. However, Gellert had always been calculating. He knew how to prey on weaknesses, the reason Animo believed her brother was more dangerous than Voldemort. While the Dark Lord had simply filled his ranks with the heartless and cruel, Gellert knew how to use fear and rage to coax his followers out from their hiding places. How to rally the oppressed against their oppressors, all the while claiming purchase for himself.
Stuffing her fist into the pocket of Pickens' coat, Animo rubbed a thumb along the roll of parchment reassuringly. She had gotten the idea after spying on Harry Potter in his third year and observing the peculiar map that he used to navigate around Hogwarts. Albus had later confided that the map had been created by Harry's father and his friends, who roamed the school at night in their Animagus forms and laid out every last corridor. Over the last few weeks, Animo had spent many restless nights trying to develop a similar charm and although her grades had suffered, she couldn't bring herself to care.
Finding an empty corner at last, Animo pulled the parchment from her pocket. "Homonculous," she whispered, tapping her wand against the surface.
To her relief, sharp lines of ink began to form, intertwining with each other until they achieved the exact dimensions of the corner in which Animo stood, along with a dot labeled with her name. Animo allowed herself a bright grin. One of the benefits of time travel was that she could use magic not yet discovered in this time, magic Gellert hadn't thought to protect against.
Yet, her shoulders sagged slightly while she gazed down the long corridor, awash in violet light. It would take many trips to map out the entire fortress and with each journey, Animo's position grew more precarious.
---
Animo ducked down the side hall, quick to leave behind the statue of the one-eyed witch. Patting her pocket, she ensured once more that her partially completed map was still secure against her thigh. She had erased Pickens' memory of her attack, leaving him with the recollection of taking a long stroll before dumping his unconscious figure near the gates. However, she could only hope Dauphina bought his false memory of dozing off, otherwise the situation was rather suspicious. Now that Animo had discovered that her blood would let her into Nurmengard, she would no longer have to pose as one of Gellert's henchmen. Still, if her brother raised his precautions--
Animo was so lost in thought that she didn't realize she was being watched until the point of a wand jabbed between her shoulder blades. She froze instantly.
"Well, Wallis, what a surprise to see you here."
Tom Riddle's breath was cold against her neck and she shivered, turning around slowly with an empty expression. If she showed a hint of defensiveness, Tom would attack. Feeling a bit like she was dealing with a vengeful cobra, Animo met his dark gaze with a slight smile.
"Hello, Tom. Haven't seen you much of late."
"Cut the pleasantries," the boy's tone was sharp as he flicked his wand, shining the lightened tip directly into Animo's eyes. Still, she refused to blink and Tom's irritation seemed to grow. "What were you during out of bed?"
Animo smiled easily, forcing herself to stay motionless. "Out for a stroll, nothing of interest I'm afraid."
"At three in the morning?" Tom's expression was dubious as a dark curl slid across his forehead, glistening in the white hue of his wand. "Do not play me for a fool."
Contemplating her next move, Animo scanned the boy's clenched jaw, frustration evident in his hunched stature. If there was anything Tom hated, it was the unknown. "I never implied anything of the sort. I simply have no wish to tell you where I was." She turned away.
Tom's grip was unforgiving as he grabbed her elbow and Animo winced, already feeling her skin begin to swell. "You're playing a dangerous game, Wallis," the boy hissed, looming over her despite their equal height. He paused, clearly waiting for Animo to cave. She just waited patiently and a flare of rage burst in his eyes. "Do you have any idea why everyone fears me in this school?"
"Not entirely." Animo patted Tom's arm with her free hand, making him retract immediately with a repulsed expression. Her skin sang with relief, blood beginning to flow back into her fingers.
A sort of sick smirk crossed over Tom's face, his eyes shadowed. "Why don't you ask Zabini?" He twirled his wand easily between his fingers, no remorse at all in his stance. "I believe she's had a nightmare or two."
Gaping, Animo could do nothing as the Head Boy stalked down the corridor, his smug presence oozing into the typical light air of the castle. His leather soles clicked smartly against the stone, leaving an echo that sung long after his figure had disappeared.
"What am I doing?" Animo murmured, shoving her palm onto her forehead as she sank against the wall. What if antagonizing Tom only made the future worse? And how could she hope to change someone who clearly enjoyed the damage he caused?