* * *
ELARA HAD NEVER SO URGENTLY WANTED TO GET SOMEWHERE. luna helped elara to dumbledore's office. no comments of nargles were made and the walk was silent except for elara muttering the password.
the gargoyle sprang to life and leapt aside; the wall behind it split in two to reveal a stone staircase that was moving continuously upward like a spiral escalator. the three of them stepped onto the moving stairs; the wall closed behind them with a thud, and they were moving upward in tight circles until they reached the highly polished oak door with the brass knocker shaped like a griffin.
though it was now well past midnight, there were voices coming from inside the room, a positive babble of them. it sounded as though dumbledore was entertaining at least a dozen people.
elara didn't bother with the knocker. she rapped her fist on the wooden door once and pushed the doors open.
the room was in half darkness; the strange silver instruments standing on tables were silent and still rather than whirring and emitting puffs of smoke as they usually did. the portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses covering the walls were all snoozing in their frames. behind the door, a magnificent red-and-gold bird the size of a swan dozed on its perch with its head under its wing.
"oh, hello, elara... and miss lovegood — "
dumbledore was sitting in a high-backed chair behind his desk; he leaned forward into the pool of candlelight illuminating the papers laid out before him. he was wearing a magnificently embroidered purple-and-gold dressing gown over a snowy-white nightshirt, but seemed wide awake, his penetrating light-blue eyes fixed intently upon elara.
"professor," started elara quickly, "i've had a vision — arthur weasley, attacked — snake bites all over — he needs help — "
she stumbled over her words so much that only bits were coherent.
"was the snake — "
"it was nagini — please, professor, we need to help him — "
"this could very well be a vision of the future — "
"then prevent him from going on guard duty!" elara's strong voice rang through the study.
"you know very well not to interfere — "
"but that's just it, sir, something else happened — i saw a woman — "
the knocker on the door sounded three times before professor mcgonagall strode in with harry and ron. luna smiled merrily at them, but elara shot a rather withering glare at harry.
"oh, it's you, professor mcgonagall . . . and . . . ah."
"professor dumbledore, potter has had a . . . well, a nightmare," said professor mcgonagall. "he says . . ."
"it wasn't a nightmare," said harry quickly, with a side-glance to elara.
professor mcgonagall looked around at harry, frowning slightly. "very well, then, potter, you tell the headmaster about it."
"i . . . well, i was asleep. . . ." said harry. "but it wasn't an ordinary dream . . . it was real. . . . i saw it happen. . . ." he took a deep breath, "ron's dad — mr. weasley — has been attacked by a giant snake."
elara inhaled sharply. it was real. it was present. mr. weasley was in danger. dumbledores head snapped up.
"see?" cried elara incredulously. "we need to do something — "
"how did you see this?" dumbledore spoke over elara.
"well . . . i don't know," said harry, rather angrily. "inside my head, i suppose —"
"you misunderstand me," said dumbledore, still in the same calm tone. "i mean . . . can you remember — er — where you were positioned as you watched this attack happen? were you perhaps standing beside the victim, or else looking down on the scene from above?"
"i was the snake," he said. "i saw it all from the snake's point of view. . . ."
nobody else spoke for a moment, then dumbledore, now looking at ron, who was still whey-faced, said in a new and sharper voice, "is arthur seriously injured?"
"i've just told you this," said elara angrily.
"yes," said harry emphatically.
but dumbledore stood up so quickly that elara jumped, and addressed one of the old portraits hanging very near the ceiling.
"everard?" he said sharply. "and you too, dilys!"
a sallow-faced wizard with short, black bangs and an elderly witch with long silver ringlets in the frame beside him, both of whom seemed to have been in the deepest of sleeps, opened their eyes immediately.
"you were listening?" said dumbledore.
the wizard nodded, the witch said, "naturally."
"the man has red hair and glasses," said dumbledore. "everard, you will need to raise the alarm, make sure he is found by the right people —"
"now you listen," grumbled elara.
both nodded and moved sideways out of their frames, but instead of emerging in neighboring pictures (as usually happened at hogwarts), neither reappeared; one frame now contained nothing but a backdrop of dark curtain, the other a handsome leather armchair. elara noticed that many of the other headmasters and mistresses on the walls, though snoring and drooling most convincingly, kept sneaking peeks at her under their eyelids, and she suddenly understood who had been talking when they had knocked.
"everard and dilys were two of hogwarts's most celebrated Heads," dumbledore said, now sweeping around elara, luna, harry, ron, and professor mcgonagall and approaching the magnificent sleeping bird on his perch beside the door. "their renown is such that both have portraits hanging in other important wizarding institutions. as they are free to move between their own portraits they can tell us what may be happening elsewhere. . . ."
"but mr. weasley could be anywhere!" said harry.
"they know where he is," said elara coldly. "else they wouldn't have gone."
"please sit down, all four of you," said dumbledore, as though harry had not spoken. "everard and dilys may not be back for several minutes. . . . professor mcgonagall, if you could draw up extra chairs . . ."
professor mcgonagall pulled her wand from the pocket of her dressing gown and waved it; four chairs appeared out of thin air, straight-backed and wooden.
elara refused to sit down, and instead watched dumbledore stroke fawkes's plumed golden head with one finger. the phoenix awoke immediately. He stretched his beautiful head high and observed dumbledore through bright, dark eyes.
"we will need," said dumbledore very quietly to the bird, "a warning."
there was a flash of fire and the phoenix had gone.
dumbledore now swooped down upon one of the fragile silver in- struments whose function elara had never known, carried it over to his desk, sat down facing them again, and tapped it gently with the tip of his wand.
the instrument tinkled into life at once with rhythmic clinking noises. tiny puffs of pale green smoke issued from the minuscule silver tube at the top. dumbledore watched the smoke closely, his brow furrowed, and after a few seconds, the tiny puffs became a steady stream of smoke that thickened and coiled in the air. . . . a serpent's head grew out of the end of it, opening its mouth wide.
"naturally, naturally," murmured dumbledore apparently to himself, still observing the stream of smoke without the slightest sign of surprise. "But in essence divided?"
elara could make neither head nor tail of this question. the smoke serpent, however, split itself instantly into two snakes, both coiling and undulating in the dark air. with a look of grim satisfaction dumbledore gave the instrument another gentle tap with his wand: the clinking noise slowed and died, and the smoke serpents grew faint, became a formless haze, and vanished.
dumbledore replaced the instrument upon its spindly little table; elara saw many of the old headmasters in the portraits follow him with their eyes, then, realizing that elara was watching them, hastily pretend to be sleeping again. elara wanted to ask what the strange silver instrument was for, but before she could do so, there was a shout from the top of the wall to their right; the wizard called everard had reappeared in his portrait, panting slightly.
"dumbledore!"
"what news?" said dumbledore at once.
"i yelled until someone came running," said the wizard, who was mopping his brow on the curtain behind him, "said i'd heard something moving downstairs — they weren't sure whether to believe me but went down to check — you know there are no portraits down there to watch from. anyway, they carried him up a few minutes later. he doesn't look good, he's covered in blood, i ran along to elfrida cragg's portrait to get a good view as they left —"
"good," said dumbledore as ron made a convulsive movement, "i take it dilys will have seen him arrive, then —"
and moments later, the silver-ringletted witch had reappeared in her picture too; she sank, coughing, into her armchair and said, "yes, they've taken him to st. mungo's, dumbledore. . . . they carried him past under my portrait. . . . he looks bad. . . ."
"they'll need to act fast," said elara worriedly. "snake venom contains hemotoxin and it causes the blood to clump — they'll have to give him a deflating draught to reduce swelling to work on the wounds, but how they'll extract the venom, i don't know — "
"you're not helping," said ron rather weakly.
"minerva, i need you to go bring miss lovegood back to her common room, and go wake the other weasley children," said dumbledore.
"of course. . . ."
professor mcgonagall got up and moved swiftly to the door, luna following dreamily after.
"and dumbledore — what about molly?" said professor mcgonagall, pausing at the door.
"that will be a job for fawkes when he has finished keeping a lookout for anybody approaching," said dumbledore. "but she may already know . . . that excellent clock of hers . . ."
dumbledore was now rummaging in a cupboard behind elara, harry, and ron. he emerged from it carrying a blackened old kettle, which he placed carefully upon his desk. he raised his wand and murmured "portus"; for a moment the kettle trembled, glowing with an odd blue light, then it quivered to a rest, as solidly black as ever.
dumbledore marched over to another portrait, this time of a clever-looking wizard with a pointed beard, who had been painted wearing the slytherin colors of green and silver and was apparently sleeping so deeply that he could not hear dumbledore's voice when he attempted to rouse him.
"phineas. phineas."
and now the subjects of the portraits lining the room were no longer pretending to be asleep; they were shifting around in their frames, the better to watch what was happening. when the clever looking wizard continued to feign sleep, some of them shouted his name too.
"phineas! phineas! PHINEAS!"
he could not pretend any longer; he gave a theatrical jerk and opened his eyes wide.
"did someone call?"
"i need you to visit your other portrait again, phineas," said dumbledore. "i've got another message."
"visit my other portrait?" said phineas in a reedy voice, giving a long, fake yawn (his eyes traveling around the room and focusing upon elara). "oh no, dumbledore, i am too tired tonight. . . ."
"insubordination, sir!" roared a corpulent, red-nosed wizard, brandishing his fists. "dereliction of duty!"
"we are honor-bound to give service to the present headmaster of hogwarts!" cried a frail-looking old wizard whom elara recognized as dumbledore's predecessor, armando dippet. "shame on you, phineas!"
"shall i persuade him, dumbledore?" called a gimlet-eyed witch, raising an unusually thick wand that looked not unlike a birch rod.
"oh, very well," said the wizard called phineas, eyeing this wand slightly apprehensively, "though he may well have destroyed my picture by now, he's done most of the family —"
"sirius knows not to destroy your portrait," said dumbledore. "you are to give him the message that arthur weasley has been gravely injured and that his wife, children, elara lestrange, and harry potter will be arriving at his house shortly. do you understand?"
"arthur weasley, injured, wife and children, elara lestrange — i've always liked her — and harry potter coming to stay," recited phineas in a bored voice. "yes, yes . . . very well. . . ."
"professor, what does praedo malorum mean — "
elara was interrupted by the study door opening again. fred, george, and ginny were ushered inside by professor mcgonagall, all three of them looking disheveled and shocked, still in their night things.
"lara — what's going on?" asked ginny, who looked frightened. "professor mcgonagall says you and harry saw dad hurt —"
"your father has been injured in the course of his work for the order of the phoenix," said dumbledore before either elara or harry could speak. "he has been taken to st. mungo's hospital for magical maladies and injuries. i am sending you back to sirius's house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than the burrow. you will meet your mother there."
"how're we going?" asked fred, looking shaken. "floo powder?"
"no," said dumbledore, "floo powder is not safe at the moment, the network is being watched. you will be taking a portkey." he indicated the old kettle lying innocently on his desk. "we are just waiting for phineas nigellus to report back. . . . i wish to be sure that the coast is clear before sending you —"
there was a flash of flame in the very middle of the office, leaving behind a single golden feather that floated gently to the floor.
"it is fawkes's warning," said dumbledore, catching the feather as it fell. "she must know you're out of your beds. . . . minerva, go and head her off — tell her any story —"
professor mcgonagall was gone in a swish of tartan.
"he says he'll be delighted," said a bored voice behind dumbledore; the wizard called phineas had reappeared in front of his slytherin banner. "my great-great-grandson has always had odd taste in houseguests. . . ."
"come here, then," dumbledore said to elara, harry, and the weasleys. "and quickly, before anyone else joins us . . ."
elara and the others gathered around dumbledore's desk.
"you have all used a portkey before?" asked dumbledore, and they nodded, each reaching out to touch some part of the blackened kettle. "good. on the count of three then . . . one . . . two . . . three."
she felt a powerful jerk behind her navel, the ground vanished from beneath her feet, her hand was glued to the kettle; she was banging into the others as all sped forward in a swirl of colors and a rush of wind, the kettle pulling them onward and then —
her feet hit the ground so hard that her knees buckled, but she managed to stay upright and instead slammed into the wall. the kettle clattered to the ground and somewhere close at hand a voice said, "back again, the blood traitor brats, is it true their father's dying . . . ?"
"OUT!" roared a second voice.
they had arrived in the gloomy basement kitchen of number twelve, grimmauld place. the only sources of light were the fire and one guttering candle, which illuminated the remains of a solitary supper. kreacher was disappearing through the door to the hall, looking back at them malevolently as he hitched up his loincloth; sirius was hurrying toward them all, looking anxious. he was unshaven and still in his day clothes; there was also a slightly mundungus-like whiff of stale drink about him.
"what's going on?" he said, stretching out a hand to help ginny up. "phineas nigellus said arthur's been badly injured —"
"ask harry and lara," said fred.
"yeah, i want to hear this for myself," said george.
the twins and ginny were staring at them. kreacher's footsteps had stopped on the stairs outside.
"i had a vision," said elara. "but, i'm not sure about harry."
"it was —" harry began; this was even worse than telling mcgonagall and dumbledore. "i had a — a kind of — vision — like lara. . . ."
and he told them all that he had seen, though he altered the story so that it sounded as though he had watched from the sidelines as the snake attacked, rather than from behind the snake's own eyes.
elara peered at him. ron, who was still very white, gave him a fleeting look, but did not speak. when harry had finished, fred, george, and ginny continued to stare at them for a moment. elara did not know whether she was imagining it or not, but she fancied there was something accusatory in their looks.
"is mum here?" said fred, turning to sirius.
"she probably doesn't even know what's happened yet," said sirius. "the important thing was to get you away before umbridge could interfere. i expect dumbledore's letting molly know now."
"we've got to go to st. mungo's," said ginny urgently. she looked around at her brothers; they were of course still in their pajamas. "sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything — ?"
"hang on, you can't go tearing off to st. mungo's!" said Sirius.
" 'course we can go to st. mungo's if we want," said fred, with a mulish expression, "he's our dad!"
"and how are you going to explain how you knew arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?"
"what does that matter?" said george hotly.
"it matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that lara and harry are having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!" said sirius angrily. "have you any idea what the ministry would make of that information?"
fred and george looked as though they could not care less what the ministry made of anything. ron was still white-faced and silent.
ginny said, "somebody else could have told us. . . . we could have heard it somewhere other than harry. . . ."
"like who?" said sirius impatiently. "listen, your dad's been hurt while on duty for the order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the order's —"
"we don't care about the dumb order!" shouted fred.
"it's our dad dying we're talking about!" yelled george.
"your father knew what he was getting into, and he won't thank you for messing things up for the order!" said sirius angrily in his turn. "this is how it is — this is why you're not in the order — you don't understand — there are things worth dying for!"
"easy for you to say, stuck here!" bellowed fred. "i don't see you risking your neck!"
the little color remaining in sirius's face drained from it. he looked for a moment as though he would quite like to hit fred, but when he spoke, it was in a voice of determined calm. "i know it's hard, but we've all got to act as though we don't know anything yet. we've got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?"
fred and george still looked mutinous. ginny, however, took a few steps over to the nearest chair and sank into it. elara followed after, taking a seat next to her. the twins glared at sirius for another minute, then took seats on either side of elara and ginny.
"that's right," said sirius encouragingly, "come on, let's all . . . let's all have a drink while we're waiting. accio butterbeer!"
he raised his wand as he spoke and half a dozen bottles came flying toward them out of the pantry, skidded along the table, scattering the debris of sirius's meal, and stopped neatly in front of the seven of them. they all drank, and for a while the only sounds were those of the crackling of the kitchen fire and the soft thud of their bottles on the table.
a burst of fire in midair illuminated the dirty plates in front of them and as they gave cries of shock, a scroll of parchment fell with a thud onto the table, accompanied by a single golden phoenix tail feather.
"fawkes!" said sirius at once, snatching up the parchment. "that's not dumbledore's writing — it must be a message from your mother — here —"
he thrust the letter into george's hand, who ripped it open and read aloud, "dad is still alive. i am setting out for st. mungo's now. stay where you are. i will send news as soon as i can. mum."
george looked around the table.
"still alive . . ." he said slowly. "but that makes it sound . . ."
he did not need to finish the sentence. it sounded to elara too as though mr. weasley was hovering somewhere between life and death. still exceptionally pale, ron stared at the back of his mother's letter as though it might speak words of comfort to him. fred pulled the parchment out of george's hands and read it for himself, then looked up at elara and harry.
elara usually had long nights, but none of them were as anxiety-filled as this one. sirius suggested once that they all go to bed, but without any real conviction, and the weasleys' looks of disgust were answer enough. they mostly sat in silence around the table, watching the candle wick sinking lower and lower into liquid wax, now and then raising bottles to their lips, speaking only to check the time, to wonder aloud what was happening, and to reassure one another that if there was bad news, they would know straightaway, for mrs. weasley must long since have arrived at st. mungo's.
fred fell into a doze, his head sagging sideways onto his shoulder. ginny was curled up on the couch by the fireplace; elara was leaning on her.
and then, at ten past five in the morning by ron's watch, the kitchen door swung open and mrs. weasley entered the kitchen. she was extremely pale, but when they all turned to look at her, fred, ron, and harry half-rising from their chairs, she gave a wan smile.
"he's going to be all right," she said, her voice weak with tiredness. "he's sleeping. we can all go and see him later. bill's sitting with him now, he's going to take the morning off work."
fred fell back into his chair with his hands over his face. george and ginny got up, walked swiftly over to their mother, and hugged her. ron gave a very shaky laugh and downed the rest of his butterbeer in one.
"breakfast!" said sirius loudly and joyfully, jumping to his feet. "where's that accursed house-elf? kreacher! KREACHER!"
but kreacher did not answer the summons.
"oh, forget it, then," muttered sirius, counting the people in front of him. "so it's breakfast for — let's see — eight . . . bacon and eggs, i think, and some tea, and toast —"
elara hurried over to the stove to help. she did not want to intrude upon the weasleys' happiness, and she dreaded the moment when mrs. weasley would ask her to recount her vision. harry followed after, although elara kept a very much large distance from him. however, they had barely taken plates from the dresser when mrs. weasley lifted them out of their hands and pulled them into a hug.
"i don't know what would have happened if it hadn't been for you two," she said in a muffled voice. "they might not have found arthur for hours, and then it would have been too late, but thanks to you both he's alive and dumbledore's been able to think up a good cover story for arthur being where he was, you've no idea what trouble he would have been in otherwise, look at poor sturgis. . . ."
elara could hardly stand mrs. weasley's gratitude, but fortunately she soon released them to turn to sirius and thank him for looking after her children through the night. sirius said that he was very pleased to have been able to help, and hoped they would all stay with him as long as mr. weasley was in hospital.
"oh, sirius, i'm so grateful. . . . they think he'll be there a little while and it would be wonderful to be nearer . . . of course, that might mean we're here for christmas. . . ."
"the more the merrier!" said sirius with such obvious sincerity that mrs. weasley beamed at him, threw on an apron, and began to help with breakfast.
harry muttered something to sirius and they went into a pantry. elara shoke her head to remind herself that she had no obligation to look after harry anymore and that it was fine harry was talking to sirius.
sirius exited a few moments later, and harry followed after a short amount of time.
everyone but elara (and maybe harry, she wasn't sure) spent the rest of the morning napping. she'd taken to sitting in the common room, vigorously writing down every detail of her dream. she poured over books and old texts to figure out what loco veteres, vocar ad feram, and praedo malorum meant. luck was not on her side.
their trunks arrived from hogwarts while they were eating lunch, so that they could dress as muggles for the trip to st. mungo's. it seemed that everybody except harry was riotously happy and talkative as they changed out of their robes into jeans and sweatshirts, and they greeted nymphie and mad-eye, who had turned up to escort them across london, gleefully laughing at the bowler hat mad-eye was wearing at an angle to conceal his magical eye and assuring him, truthfully, that nymphie, whose hair was short and bright pink again, would attract far less attention on the underground.
"is there something going on between you and harry?" nymphie muttered to elara as they stepped onto the crowded train.
"long story."
"if you don't tell me right now, i'm going to start screaming," said nymphie teasingly.
elara scowled but decided it would be better to answer.
"i told him."
"you told him?" whisper-yelled nymphie, eyes wide.
"mhm."
"and — ?"
"said it wasn't possible," said elara quietly, "because my family's full of murderous psychopaths."
"i'll fight him," said nymphie, her voice level but angry. "i don't care if he's legally a child — i'll fight him."
"thank you, but no," said elara, desperately wanting to change the subject. "what about you? how's professor lupin?"
"this is about your tragic love life, not mine," said nymphie exasperatedly.
they got out at the next stop, a station in the very heart of london, and in the bustle of leaving the train she had to push herself through the crowd to nymphie, who was leading the way. they all followed her up the escalator, moody clunking along at the back of the group, his bowler tilted low and one gnarled hand stuck in between the buttons of his coat, clutching his wand.
"not far from here," grunted moody as they stepped out into the wintry air on a broad store-lined street packed with christmas shoppers. "wasn't easy to find a good location for a hospital. nowhere in diagon alley was big enough and we couldn't have it underground like the ministry — unhealthy. in the end they managed to get hold of a building up here. theory was sick wizards could come and go and just blend in with the crowd. . . ."
they had arrived outside a large, old-fashioned, red brick department store called purge and dowse ltd. the place had a shabby, miserable air; the window displays consisted of a few chipped dummies with their wigs askew, standing at random and modeling fashions at least ten years out of date. large signs on all the dusty doors readclosed for refurbishment. elara distinctly heard a large woman laden with plastic shopping bags say to her friend as they passed, "it's never open, that place. . . ."
"right," said nymhpie, beckoning them forward to a window displaying nothing but a particularly ugly female dummy whose false eyelashes were hanging off and who was modeling a green nylon pinafore dress. "everybody ready?"
nymphie leaned close to the glass, looking up at the very ugly dummy and said, her breath steaming up the glass, "wotcher . . . we're here to see arthur weasley."
the dummy gave a tiny nod, beckoned its jointed finger, and nymphie had seized ginny and elara by the elbows, stepped right through the glass and vanished.
they had arrived in what seemed to be a crowded reception area where rows of witches and wizards sat upon rickety wooden chairs, some looking perfectly normal and perusing out-of-date copies of witch weekly, others sporting gruesome disfigurements such as elephant trunks or extra hands sticking out of their chests. the room was scarcely less quiet than the street outside, for many of the patients were making very peculiar noises. a sweaty-faced witch in the center of the front row, who was fanning herself vigorously with a copy of the daily prophet, kept letting off a high-pitched whistle as steam came pouring out of her mouth, and a grubby-looking warlock in the corner clanged like a bell every time he moved, and with each clang his head vibrated horribly, so that he had to seize himself by the ears and hold it steady.
witches and wizards in lime-green robes were walking up and down the rows, asking questions and making notes on clipboards like umbridge's. elara noticed the emblem embroidered on their chests: a wand and bone, crossed.
"over here!" called mrs. weasley over the renewed clanging of the warlock in the corner, and they followed her to the queue in front of a plump blonde witch seated at a desk marked inquiries. the wall behind her was covered in notices and posters saying things like a clean cauldron keeps potions from becoming poisons and antidotes are anti-don'ts unless approved by a qualified healer.
there was also a large portrait of a witch with long silver ringlets that was labelled:
DILYS DERWENT
st. mungo's healer 1722–1741
headmistress of hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, 174i–1768
dilys was eyeing the weasley party as though counting them; when elara caught her eye she gave a tiny wink, walked sideways out of her portrait, and vanished.
meanwhile, at the front of the queue, a young wizard was performing an odd on-the-spot jig and trying, in between yelps of pain, to explain his predicament to the witch behind the desk.
"it's these — ouch — shoes my brother gave me — ow — they're eating my — OUCH — feet — look at them, there must be some kind of — AARGH — jinx on them and i can't — AAAAARGH — get them off —"
he hopped from one foot to the other as though dancing on hot coals.
"the shoes don't prevent you reading, do they?" said the blonde witch irritably, pointing at a large sign to the left of her desk. "you want spell damage, fourth floor. just like it says on the floor guide. next!"
the wizard hobbled and pranced sideways out of the way, the weasley party moved forward a few steps. a very old, stooped wizard with a hearing trumpet had shuffled to the front of the queue now.
"i'm here to see broderick bode!" he wheezed.
"ward forty-nine, but i'm afraid you're wasting your time," said the witch dismissively "he's completely addled, you know, still thinks he's a teapot. . . . next!"
a harassed-looking wizard was holding his small daughter tightly by the ankle while she flapped around his head using the immensely large, feathery wings that had sprouted right out the back of her romper suit.
"fourth floor," said the witch in a bored voice, without asking, and the man disappeared through the double doors beside the desk, holding his daughter like an oddly shaped balloon. "next!"
mrs. weasley moved forward to the desk.
"hello," she said. "my husband, arthur weasley, was supposed to be moved to a different ward this morning, could you tell us — ?"
"arthur weasley?" said the witch, running her finger down a long list in front of her. "yes, first floor, second door on the right, dai llewellyn ward."
"thank you," said mrs. weasley. "come on, you lot."
they followed through the double doors and along the narrow corridor beyond, which was lined with more portraits of famous healers and lit by crystal bubbles full of candles that floated up on the ceiling, looking like giant soapsuds. more witches and wizards in lime-green robes walked in and out of the doors they passed; a foul-smelling yellow gas wafted into the passageway as they passed one door, and every now and then they heard distant wailing. they climbed a flight of stairs and entered the "creature-induced injuries" corridor, where the second door on the right bore the words "dangerous" dai llewellyn ward: serious bites. underneath this was a card in a brass holder on which had been handwritten healer-in-charge: hippocrates smethwyck, trainee Healer: augustus pye.
"we'll wait outside, molly," nymphie said. "arthur won't want too many visitors at once. . . . it ought to be just the family first."
mad-eye growled his approval of this idea and set himself with his back against the corridor wall, his magical eye spinning in all directions. elara and harry drew back too, but mrs. weasley reached out a hand and pushed them through the door, saying, "don't be silly, you two, arthur wants to thank you. . . ."
the ward was small and rather dingy as the only window was narrow and set high in the wall facing the door. most of the light came from more shining crystal bubbles clustered in the middle of the ceiling. the walls were of panelled oak and there was a portrait of a rather vicious-looking wizard on the wall, captioned urquhart rackharrow, 1612– 1697, inventor of the entrail-expelling curse.
there were only three patients. mr. weasley was occupying the bed at the far end of the ward beside the tiny window. elara was pleased and relieved to see that he was propped up on several pillows and reading the daily prophet by the solitary ray of sunlight falling onto his bed. he looked around as they walked toward him and, seeing whom it was, beamed.
"hello!" he called, throwing the prophet aside. "bill just left, molly, had to get back to work, but he says he'll drop in on you later. . . ."
"how are you, arthur?" asked mrs. weasley, bending down to kiss his cheek and looking anxiously into his face. "you're still looking a bit peaky. . . ."
"i feel absolutely fine," said mr. weasley brightly, holding out his good arm to give ginny a hug. "if they could only take the bandages off, i'd be fit to go home."
"why can't they take them off, dad?" asked fred.
"well, i start bleeding like mad every time they try," said mr. weasley cheerfully, reaching across for his wand, which lay on his bedside cabinet, and waving it so that seven extra chairs appeared at his bedside to seat them all. "it seems there was some rather unusual kind of poison in that snake's fangs that keeps wounds open. . . . they're sure they'll find an antidote, though, they say they've had much worse cases than mine, and in the meantime i just have to keep taking a blood-replenishing potion every hour. but that fellow over there," he said, dropping his voice and nodding toward the bed opposite in which a man lay looking green and sickly and staring at the ceiling. "bitten by a werewolf, poor chap. no cure at all."
"a werewolf?" whispered mrs. weasley, looking alarmed. "is he safe in a public ward? shouldn't he be in a private room?"
"it's two weeks till full moon," mr. weasley reminded her quietly. "they've been talking to him this morning, the healers, you know, trying to persuade him he'll be able to lead an almost normal life. i said to him — didn't mention names, of course — but i said i knew a werewolf personally, very nice man, who finds the condition quite easy to manage. . . ."
"what did he say?" asked george.
"said he'd give me another bite if i didn't shut up," said mr. weasley sadly. "and that woman over there," he indicated the only other occu- pied bed, which was right beside the door, "won't tell the healers what bit her, which makes us all think it must have been something she was handling illegally. whatever it was took a real chunk out of her leg, very nasty smell when they take off the dressings."
"so, you going to tell us what happened, dad?" asked fred, pulling his chair closer to the bed.
"well, you already know, don't you?" said mr. weasley, with a significant smile at harry and elara. "it's very simple — i'd had a very long day, dozed off, got sneaked up on, and bitten."
"is it in the prophet, you being attacked?" asked fred, indicating the newspaper mr. weasley had cast aside.
"no, of course not," said mr. weasley, with a slightly bitter smile, "the ministry wouldn't want everyone to know a dirty great serpent got —"
"arthur!" said mrs. weasley warningly.
"— got — er — me," mr. weasley said hastily, though elara was quite sure that was not what he had meant to say.
"so where were you when it happened, dad?" asked george.
"that's my business," said mr. weasley, though with a small smile at elara. he snatched up the daily prophet, shook it open again and said, "i was just reading about willy widdershins's arrest when you arrived. you know willy turned out to be behind those regurgitating toilets last summer? one of his jinxes backfired, the toilet exploded, and they found him lying unconscious in the wreckage covered from head to foot in —"
"when you say you were 'on duty,'" fred interrupted in a low voice, "what were you doing?"
"you heard your father," whispered mrs. weasley, "we are not discussing this here! go on about willy widdershins, arthur —"
"well, don't ask me how, but he actually got off on the toilet charge," said mr. weasley grimly. "i can only suppose gold changed hands —"
"you were guarding it, weren't you?" said george quietly. "the weapon? the person you-know-who's after?"
"george, be quiet!" snapped mrs. weasley.
"anyway," said mr. weasley in a raised voice, "this time willy's been caught selling biting doorknobs to muggles, and i don't think he'll be able to worm his way out of it because according to this article, two muggles have lost fingers and are now in st. mungo's for emergency bone regrowth and memory modification. just think of it, muggles in st. mungo's! i wonder which ward they're in?"
and he looked eagerly around as though hoping to see a signpost.
"didn't you say you-know-who's got a snake, harry, lara?" asked fred, looking at his father for a reaction. "a massive one? you saw it the night he returned, didn't you?"
"that's enough," said mrs. weasley crossly. "mad-eye and tonks are outside, arthur, they want to come and see you. and you lot can wait outside," she added to her children, elara, and harry. "you can come and say good-bye afterward. go on. . . ."
they trooped back into the corridor. mad-eye and nymphie went in and closed the door of the ward behind them. fred raised his eyebrows. "fine," he said coolly, rummaging in his pockets, "be like that. don't tell us anything."
"it was you-know-who's snake," said elara rather breathlessly.
"i thought you weren't supposed to tell us that," said ron.
"this your dad we're talking about, you deserve answers."
"looking for these?" said george, holding out what looked like a tangle of flesh-colored string.
"you read my mind," said fred, grinning. "let's see if st. mungo's puts imperturbable charms on its ward doors, shall we?"
he and george disentangled the string and separated six extendable ears from each other. fred and george handed them around.
"okay, go!" fred whispered.
the flesh-colored strings wriggled like long skinny worms, then snaked under the door. for a few seconds elara could hear nothing, then she heard nymphie whispering as clearly as though she were standing right beside her.
". . . they searched the whole area but they couldn't find the snake anywhere, it just seems to have vanished after it attacked you, arthur. . . . but you-know-who can't have expected a snake to get in, can he?"
"i reckon he sent it as a lookout," growled moody, " 'cause he's not had any luck so far, has he? no, i reckon he's trying to get a clearer picture of what he's facing and if arthur hadn't been there the beast would've had much more time to look around. so potter says he saw it all happen?"
"harry and elara saw it," said mrs. weasley. she sounded rather uneasy. "you know, dumbledore seems almost to have been waiting for harry to see something like this. . . ."
"yeah, well," said moody, "there's something funny about the them both, we all know that."
"dumbledore said a woman visited elara in the vision and that the woman told elara that she was — she was the savior," whispered mrs. weasley. "dumbledore's worried."
" 'course he's worried," growled moody. "the girl's not ready to bear the weight of her responisbilities, and the boy's seeing inside you-know-who's snake... obviously, they don't realize what that means — "
* * *
AUTHORS NOTE
— i lied, i'm 80% sure THE chapter is next chapter
— fewfheufhhfdh i want coronavirus to GO AWAY
written: february 5, 2020
published: april 13, 2020