"Ani."
Animo groggily cracked open her eyes, her mouth feeling as though she had stuffed several cotton balls between her teeth. A blurry figure hovered over her, giving off an intense energy that made her start and reach for her wand. Yet there was nothing in her pocket.
Her memories returning, Animo sank back with a quiet huff and eyed Tom warily. The Slytherin looked as though he had taken a shower and changed, something she was painfully aware of as she attempted to adjust her tattered robes. A sour smell hung about her body, telling of dried blood and sweat.
Tom's expression quickly shifted from whatever it had been to a neutral state, his brow smooth. "You've been asleep for hours."
Catching the way his fingers twitched above his wand pocket, Animo glanced over with a slight smile. "Were you worried about me?"
A grimace immediately soured Tom's face, his curls carefully combed back so that his need for a haircut was not so apparent. "I am above such petty emotions." He cleared his throat, stepping back from Animo's bed with a curt motion. "The effects of the draught I used are simply..." his dark eyes flashed, seeming to search for some sort of excuse. "Unpredictable."
Despite his dire mood, Animo let out a hollow laugh as she attempted to sit, flexing her arm. "At this point, I'll take any chance—" she prodded her wrist, shocked at the flesh around her hand. Her elbow was still rather dark, the veins a deep purple web. But the skin surrounding the worst of the burns was a fresh pink, the color she would imagine of a newborn. "I'm impressed."
"I'm glad my abilities have produced such enthusiasm," Tom retorted, clearly irritated as he twirled his wand between his fingers. "Now if you want to stop the impending war, I would suggest getting out of bed."
Animo grunted, the weight of expectation falling once more upon her shoulders. "Right," she swung her heels upon the wooden slats of the floor and attempted to stand. However, her legs gave out and she wobbled dangerously, spots dancing in front of her eyes.
A cold arm laced behind her back, steading her stance. Tom moved a bit closer so that he was nearly at her waist, the familiar smell of spearmint brushing past her face.
"I didn't mean leap onto the floor." Tom sighed, pulling away as though the physical contact had meant nothing. Animo tried to push away the longing swirling through her chest. "Grindelwald, how have you survived all these years?"
"I rarely left Hogwarts," Animo admitted, walking past him towards the doorway. She began to descend the stairs at a slow pace, making sure her entire foot was fully placed on each step. "And you don't need to call me that."
Tom ignored her, pushing past her towards the kitchen with a renewed fervor. The sunlight dappled his robes, making his dark locks shine as he paced in front of one of the windows. "What are we here for? Would Grindelwald have left behind some sort of object? A weapon?"
Animo just stared. "Gellert isn't like you." She winced, regretting her statement. "If he had some sort of weapon, it would never leave his person. He trusts no one."
"He's far more vulnerable doing that," Tom was openly critical, his eyes narrowed in disapproval while he paused in the center of the room. "Let one get too close and he's defeated."
Meeting his gaze, Animo shied away from the challenge burning in its depths. Tom clearly thought of her brother as some sort of opponent. The thought chilled her. "Gellert and Albus made a blood pact," she admitted slowly, still unsure if it was wise. Tom had proven he could not be trusted. But she knew that he would refuse to leave, if only to learn from Gellert's mistakes. "I am sure my brother carries the vial with him, but it would not be so simple as stealing it from his pocket. The vial needs to be destroyed before Albus has any chance of challenging him."
"A blood pact?" If Tom had been skeptical before, he was utterly disgusted. He clasped his hands behind his back, though the movement did nothing to alter his straight posture. "How juvenile."
"They loved each other."
The comment sounded much more scathing than Animo had meant and she flushed, turning away towards the door. "Don't discredit that."
There was a long pause while her fingers lingered against the doorframe, hopeful that Tom would stop her exit. Finally, she heard him clear his throat.
"I always suspected there was more behind Dumbledore's hideous robes."
Animo giggled, surprised that she could find some sort of humor in her aching chest. She knew it was the most support she could ask for from the droll Slytherin. "Wait until you see his sock collection."
A light-hearted moment hung between them as Animo glanced up cautiously. There was an uncertain flicker in Tom's gaze.
"Do you want to help me search the grounds?" she held open the door that led outside, careful not to step on an overturned nail. It appeared that the preservation charms placed on the building did not extend beyond the walls.
"There's not much to search." Tom waved his wrist, sending some of the more dangerous debris flying from their path. Animo leaned against the railing as she limped down the stairs. Exhaustion still dulled her movements.
Still, she pressed a smile to her lips. Perhaps there was some bit of strength left in her hollow spirit to show Tom. If her next encounter with Gellert was as poor as the first, her time left with him was limited. "Are you insulting my childhood home?"
Making a grand sweep of the splintered porch, Tom stepped down into the sand. The gravel crunched beneath his leather shoes, their shine making the dull surroundings more depressing. "This place makes the orphanage appear a paradise."
Animo shuddered at the thought of the dark building, not wanting to remember her strange encounter with its residents. Picking her way towards a pair of wooden doors inset in the ground, she tottered over a series of roots and dried clumps of shrub. A faint rumble shook the clouds above, warning of a storm.
"If there's anything Gellert left behind, it would be here." Animo knelt, letting her scarred hand hover over the knotted wood. Tom moved over as if to grab the handle and she quickly swatted his arm, ignoring the dark look he sent her. "It's cursed. If anyone but my bloodline touches it—" she cut herself off, not keen to remember the warning she had been given.
Disturbingly, Tom appeared rather satisfied. "So, Grindelwald does have a backbone after all."
With a shove, Animo pulled open one of the doors, wincing as the iron hinges squealed. Her arm throbbed with the effort and she twisted her wrist gingerly, hoping she hadn't done further damage. "Actually, that was my father's idea."
Diving into the darkness, she jumped as the torches on the wall lit in succession with her steps, blazing with emerald flame. The dirt stairs beneath her feet crumbled at the edges and Animo was rather afraid the earth would give away entirely. On either side of her shoulders were shelves inset into the stone, bearing books and scrolls that were carelessly thrown together. A small chalk drawing caught her eye and Animo paused, prying the yellowed parchment from between the pages of a potions textbook.
An orange house had been scrawled onto the paper's surface, the lines wobbly and uneven. Still, there was no mistaking the symmetric windows above a circular door, from which shone a beam of yellow paint. Animo let her pointer finger trace over the sketch, careful not to smear the detail.
"Gellert drew this when we were young," she murmured to herself as much as she did to Tom. "He promised that one day he would build us a house far away from Hungary. From our father." Looking blankly at the stone wall in front of her, Animo allowed the memory of her brother's eyes to hover for a moment. "He began to hold meetings not long after our father died, filling our house with strange wizards."
Tom said nothing. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Animo strode forward, breaking into the small room that lay at the bottom of the cellar. The possessions there were in perfect order. A handful of chairs were spaced on one side of the sandy floor, their wooden limbs carved to appear serpentine. On the opposite area sat a simple desk that was complete with iron carvings. A single quill lay perched against the wood, the crimson feather flecked with gold.
Animo moved closer, hesitation slowing her steps. "Is that—"
"From a phoenix," Tom confirmed, seeming to heed her earlier warning as he ran his fingers through the air above the quill. "And the markings are rare."
Swallowing once more, Animo tore her gaze away from the feather while she returned to the desk with a renewed purpose. She knew the markings of the quill all too well. But such a connection was impossible. Surely.
Running her fingers over the surface, she tried to pry at the largest drawer beneath. To her frustration, the lock wouldn't budge and Animo bent, peeking through the keyhole as her matted hair spilled about her shoulders.
"Honestly, you would think you had never heard of magic."
Sighing softly under her breath, Animo ignored Tom's barb, resting her forehead against the desk while she sank to her knees. She should have been able to find some sort of clue. She was his sister—
"Oh broomsticks," Animo cursed, sinking back on her heels. If Gellert had left anything, it wouldn't have been for her. Not only was she lost to time, but Animo had taken second place after the arrival of golden-haired optimist in her brother's life. Closing her eyes, she tried to recall some sort of memory between them before puffing out a sigh of frustration. "For the Greater Good?"
The drawer didn't budge at her tentative murmur. Tom grumbled something under his breath, but Animo didn't pay attention.
"The password isn't going—"
Running her hand over the blistering burn on her arm, Animo tried to make sense of the thoughts in her head. The ghost of her brother as a child hovered at the back of her mind, waiting to be addressed. But she couldn't afford that. The only reason Animo had remained so put together was because of Tom, who would have had little sympathy for her floundering.
Her thumb grazed over the edge of the triangle-shaped mark on her bicep, the old burn jagged and puffed with irritation. Animo stiffened, covering Gellert's symbol with her sweaty palm. But it had never been his to begin with.
"The Deathly Hallows."
This time, her whisper was greeted with a small click and the drawer swung open, revealing a dark compartment. Reaching inside, Animo inhaled sharply as her elbow dipped far below where the bottom of the desk should have been. There was some sort of room in the desk itself.
"I wonder if he got the idea from Scamander." Tom watched her movements carefully, still hanging back in the corner. He clearly had no desire to meet one of Gellert's curses. "I've read that he keeps an array of magical creatures in a briefcase."
Placing one foot into the drawer, Animo winced at the sinking sensation. It was as though her foot were pushing through a wall of pudding, only for the jelly to sink back around it. "The author of Fantastic Beasts?"
Tom raised an unimpressed brow. His aristocratic features glimmered in the light of the torches. "He's a lunatic."
Hovering her right foot over the drawer, Animo braced herself for whatever lay beyond the darkness. "Albus once said that insanity was but genius misunderstood."
The moment her toe grazed the edge of the drawer, her body sank down through the magical barrier. Animo didn't have time to scream as darkness enveloped her vision and her throat seemed to clog. Whether it was the effect of an extension charm or simply her own terror, she wasn't sure.
Then, her feet met solid ground. Stumbling, Animo reached out for something to steady her balance, but her arms met nothing but air.
"Lumos!" she waved a hand, risking angering whatever lay before her as a bright light shone from her fingertips.
Blinking through the stream of illumination, Animo scrunched her eyes. Her heart dropped into her stomach.
The room greatly resembled the bottom of a drawer, nothing but walls of chipped wood surrounding her. Nothing except the golden perch that sat in the center of the space.
Fawkes tilted his head, letting a mournful cry as he saw Animo standing before him. His feathers were bent and shriveled, dull with distress. The depressing image was complete with his patchy plume and the several feathers that littered the floor. It seemed as though the phoenix had pulled them out himself.
Animo fought the urge to rush forward, keeping her steps light as she approached the creature. "Hey Fawkes," she held out a trembling hand.
The bird jerked backwards and Animo forced herself to remain still. Then Fawkes angled his head forward, creeping his beak up with a wary hesitation. His soft head met Animo's fingers. Animo's eyes filled with tears as Fawkes rested his beak against her palm.
"Let's get you out of here—" her voice caught as she noticed the scroll set beneath the bird's talons. Reaching forward gingerly, Animo dislodged the paper.
The handwriting was stately and simple, as though from the hand of a politician.
Albus, you once told me this bird could protect me from the worst of sorrows. Aye, even dementors shudder before him. But I find these days that his call has been naught but a burden. Say it is the wish of a fool, but I hope someday we may all be reunited. In a better future.
Ad maius bonum.
Gritting her teeth, Animo folded the parchment into a small square and stuffed it into her pocket. How Gellert could do this to one of Albus's most prized possessions.. to a living creature..
Letting her fingers hang in the air as an offering, Animo met Fawkes' eye. The bird had always unnerved her, as though it could see into the recesses of her soul. To all of the hidden thoughts and worries she had tried to carefully to stow away.
"Think you can help us out of here?"
In answer, Fawkes stretched out his wings and gave a cry. Although this time, his call rung with a frenzied fervor. Animo barely had time to grab onto his feet as the phoenix soared above her head, flying at a steep angle into the darkness above.
This time, as the weight of the extension charm pulled at her features, Animo forced her eyes to stay open. A small pocket of light opened up above, towards which Fawkes flapped his wings with a renewed strength.
One moment Animo was within the confines of the drawer and the next she was standing back in the Grindelwald's' cellar with Fawkes perched on the desk at her side. Tom jumped to his feet, as though he had been waiting for her return. Yet his gaze was not on Animo.
The way the boy observed the phoenix unnerved her. There was a sort of hunger in his expression that reminded her of when he had spoke of Horcruxes, of a power just beyond his reach.
"Fawkes," Animo hated the way her voice trembled as she stumbled up the stairs, careful to keep the bird within her sight as it flew above her.
They broke out into the Hungarian grassland, a great wind whipping at the ends of Animo's hair. She shuddered at the crisp air that bore the smell of rain. The cellar below had felt as though it were separate from the rest of the world, trapped in a loophole of painful memories. The clouds above were swollen with moisture and threatened to unleash their rage as they swirled above her head.
Fawkes seemed to sense her anger and floated down upon her uninjured shoulder, tilting his head in question.
Animo touched his beak gently, hearing Tom's footsteps as he ascended the stairs behind her. "Go and fly," she murmured, nodding towards the trees beyond the house.
Dipping his head, Fawkes let his beak hang across her chest and a few tears trailed down his crimson feathers. A surge of worry tightened Animo's heart. Perhaps the time of isolation had left him worse than she had thought. Then, there was a surge of relief through her scalded arm.
"Oh." She could only watch as the phoenix's tears fell upon her black flesh, spreading like a web over the burns. Her skin lightened, the blisters fading away so that they were nearly non-existent.
Smiling slightly, Animo dipped her head. "Thank you."
Fawkes just adjusted his stance, unfurling his wings once more and disappearing into the murky storm. Animo waited until she could no longer see his golden tail before turning and making her way back towards the house. Her boots sunk into the sand as the first raindrops plummeted from the clouds, coating her cheeks with an icy moisture.
"You just let it go?"
She refused to turn around at Tom's accusation, continuing to pick her way through the weeds. "Fawkes will be back."
"You—"
Lightening snapped, illuminating the sand with an unnatural white. Animo whipped around, despair tugging at her limbs. "Shut UP, Tom." She narrowed her gaze, steeling herself against the rage in Tom's eyes. Their days at Hogwarts now seemed a part of another life, a time when she could pretend that they were just ordinary people. "What is wrong with you?" The question was delivered with less anger than she wished. "All you can see is how to use things for your benefit." She motioned to the space between them, raindrops beginning to trickle down her forehead as wisps of hair plastered to her skin. "Is that why you're here? To pry open Gellert's secrets so you can be a darker wizard then he?"
Her chest heaved with the effort of spitting the words as she watched Tom's curls sink with the weight of the water hurtling down upon his figure. Tom's jaw was set, his muscle clenched as Animo waited for a response. The hunger had dissipated from his expression, but the deep anger in his gaze made Animo's stomach clench. And she was disgusted with herself. Trying to change Tom was one matter. But it seemed that she was more and more letting him take the lead, surrendering control so she would not have to make the hard decisions.
Letting out a long sigh, Animo wrapped her arms around herself when Tom refused to answer. "I don't understand how you can see all this and still want the path—"
"I cannot change." Tom's expression did not falter and Animo wasn't certain that she had even seen his lips move. He stalked forward and his movements were rigid as he closed the space between them. Despite Animo's height, Tom seemed to be trying to intimidate her as he pinned her down with a glare. "I think you are deluding yourself into seeing me as someone I'm not. Let me remind you, Grindelwald," he spat the name once more, "I—"
"Stop," Animo shook her head, attempting to back away. But Tom grabbed her arm and his fingers dug into the newly healed skin at her wrist.
"I think you forget," Tom pressed onwards, "of what I'm capable of—"
"What you're capable of?" Animo shook her head, her voice cold. "Don't make it sound like you're some powerful being, Tom. You're just the same as the rest of us. Just choosing to immerse yourself with a darkness others know to resist." She stepped forwards, twisting her wrist in the attempt to relieve some of the pressure of his fingertips. "Do you care for me at all?"
Tom instantly released her arm as if he had been burned, leaning away from her with a dark scowl. "I will not—"
"Do you?" Animo felt rather like a small child with her meager questions, but the desperation that throttled her throat begged for escape. She was the one to pursue Tom this time, stepping closer to his chest.
Turning away, Tom offered her nothing but his shoulder. Another crack of lightening resounded far before being followed by a rumble of thunder.
Animo's heart stung with his rejection while a stream of raindrops chased each other down her cheeks, pooling at her collarbone. "Then you should leave."
Tom didn't move, his gaze fixed on the forest before them. The branches of the oak trees waved wildly in the storm, releasing several leaves that trailed to the ground.
"I don't understand."
There was a soft thud as Tom kicked at a pebble on the ground, splitting it into several shards. "I was conceived under a love potion," he bit out the words, his tone grating with frustration. "I'm not supposed to feeling anything." His chest rose and sunk with each breath. Each sentence was a painful effort. "Everything I've created relies on that."
Hesitantly, Animo stepped forwards. She said nothing, letting the storm above wash away the grime of the last few days from her skin.
Tom finally turned to meet her and for the first time, the guard was gone from his gaze. Uncertainty and fear flickered in his dark orbs, both intertwining to form a sort of desperation that fueled his movements.
Reaching a hand up, Animo slid her fingers softly against his jawline. Tom swallowed and she was afraid he was going to turn away again. Before he could, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.
Instead of retreating, the action seemed to end the Slytherin's angry deliberation. Animo felt his right hand lace through her hair, pulling her closer as the raindrops continue to splash against their skin. It had been so long since they had truly touched and it was only then that she realized how much she had missed it.
Her mind screamed at her to stop as she parted her mouth, letting Tom deepen the kiss as his other hand curved around her throat. But she silenced her doubts and trailed her fingers along Tom's neck. The Slytherin stiffened slightly at the touch and Animo paused, suddenly afraid. It was as though Tom had changed from a conniving hunter to a skittish animal. One wrong movement and their tentative moment would collapse.
They stared at each other, Tom's mouth hovering just above hers. At this point, the storm had soaked them both and Animo was faintly relieved to see that Tom's curls had clumped into a chestnut matt. It made him appear human, free of the perfection he strived for. She reached up and brushed the hair back from his forehead nervously.
Tom watched her with a darkened gaze, his posture still stiff as though he was uncertain of whether to accept her efforts. Finally, he looked away towards the lightening sky. The darkest clouds were now in the distance, drifting away towards another bit of forest. "We're the same, you and I."
Animo frowned at his strange statement, but Tom was unaware of her response.
He closed his eyes, a pinch in between his brow. It appeared his inner conflict was still being waged inside his chest. "No one will ever understand us but each other."