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❨ chapter seven. ❩
❛ of curiosities and curses ❜

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    THE FOREST STRETCHED before him with no end in sight. Rows and rows of enormous, tall Balkan pine trees loomed around him, packed so densely along the forest floor that little sunlight was able to penetrate the canopy overhead. The further he walked into the forest, the stronger the smell of decay and damp earth surrounding him became. The slightly bemused man noticed that the air too was unnaturally chilly given the time of the year. Every now and then an icy breeze would caress its way through the leaves, rustling them gently. But apart from the rhythmic sound of his increasingly harsh breathing, the forest lay silent.

    Stuffing his hands deeper into his coat pockets, he continued to silently stroll through the forest, the picture of his destination burning clearly before his eyes.

    A twig snapped.

    Antonin whipped around, his hands reaching for his wand instinctively, but there was no one. Not for the first time did his mind stray towards thoughts of the dangers that lurked within - and indeed, beyond - this forest. His heart hammered against his chest, a lump rising in his throat as his mind recited all the ways his plan could end in catastrophe, but he swallowed down the flare of apprehension. He had volunteered to take on this task, and while he was many things - several of which others might look down upon - Antonin Dolohov was not a man to abjure his word.

    Clutching his wand tighter, he returned to his path. After about an hour, the putrid scent of rotting moss and decaying animals grew fainter as he left the thick of the forest behind him. The ground, which had seemed woven entirely of fallen foliage and tree trunks of yesteryears, cleared to reveal damp, dark soil that was illuminated by rays of cold sunlight now pouring in through gaps in the forest canopy. The sounds of the forest whispering too were swept away.

    A few more feet, and he knew he'd be in the clearing at whose end stood the abandoned mansion he'd call home for the next few days. And sure enough, mere minutes later, he'd spotted the two olden pine trees that Mr. Lestrange had told him would mark the end of the forest and lead him into the estate grounds. Alone in a forest of lush green, the two trees stood like rusted lamp posts, brown and barren.

    Beyond the trees, however, Antonin could see nothing but miles and miles of the same withered trees he'd been walking around all morning, as well as a dewy mist that kept swirling hypnotically around tree trunks. There were no wasted grounds in sight, nor was the derelict old mansion he'd seen in the photographs at Mr. Lestrange's.

    With a small smile, Antonin approached the barren trees and placed a hand on the trunk of the left one. For a moment, the rough bark underneath his hands glowed warm, but the sensation was gone before he could register it. Nothing happened. The leaves rustled; a bird chirped in the distance; a twig snapped; the wind whistled; he stood still. Antonin's smile wavered, apprehension clawing its way back into his heart, but he didn't let it deter him.

    Glancing over his shoulder, Antonin surveyed the forest again, ensuring that he was not being followed. When not so much as a fly flew overhead, the young man turned back to the two trees. With a deep inhale, he let go of the trunk and walked through the space between the trees.

    In an instant, he was gone.

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    THE GRYFFINDOR COMMON room was buzzing with curious agitation. Following the collapse of Mary MacDonald's sister at dinner earlier that evening, the students had all been ushered back to their respective common rooms, whilst the professors and Mary took the unconscious girl up to the hospital wing. All the Prefects had been asked to patrol the corridors and ensure the nightly curfew — which had begun frightfully early tonight — was not broken by anyone.

    As the whole of Gryffindor house waited together anxiously for the Head Boy, the Head Girl, or their Prefects to turn up with answers, people couldn't help but theorize what was in the letter which caused the MacDonald girl to faint. No one knew for certain what had happened, of course, but everyone seemed to have a pretty good idea as to the nature of information held within the now infamous letter. It was no good news, that much was clear. Nearly everyone thought someone close to the MacDonald's had died. Some — and these were very few people — also considered kidnapping or illnesses. Whatever the case, their best hope was the return of the Gryffindor prefects, none of whom seemed to be in a rush to arrive. And so they all waited, fiddling with textbooks and whispering to friends, which was how Sirius and Peter also found themselves sitting in the far corner of the room, though they did not bother to even pretend to be studying for their upcoming exams.

    It was a mark of how anxious and intrigued everyone was that by the time midnight rolled around, most, if not all, of the Gryffindors were still waiting for someone to answer their burning questions.

    Finally, at a quarter to 1, when most chatter had died down and sleep had at last begun to claw its way through all the anticipation, the door to the portrait hole swung open. Sirius caught one, fleeting look at the hunched form of Remus before his view was obstructed by the students around him, all of whom suddenly jostled around a room to crowd around the prefect.

    The commotion that ensued made Sirius' head spin.

    "What happened down there?" asked a gangly fifth year boy, Damien McKinnon.

    Vanya Deverill, a fellow seventh year, bellowed, "FINALLY!"

    Sirius didn't even know the names of some people who were yelling now.

    "Is her family okay?"

    "Blimey, we've been waiting for one of you to show up!"

    "What happened to the girl?"

    "What did you hear?"

    "Tell us everything."

    Sirius and Peter fought their way to the front of the room where what looked like half the Gryffindor house was hounding a pale and exhausted looking Remus with questions. The rest of them stood back, though they were all yelling and talking as well.

    "Give him some space," yelled Peter over the heads of a bunch of anxious third year girls. "Stop yelling at him!"

    No one listened. They were all pressing in on Remus who was mumbling something and shaking his head.

    "Hey, move it, midgets!" Marlene McKinnon roared as she began pulling people by their arms and shoving them away from Remus. "Move over or you'll wish you were never born!"

    Her empty threats did not deter the enthusiasm of the other students by an ounce. If anything, it only brightened the mood for some, who laughed appreciatively at the scowling girl. They were still hurling questions and theories at Remus who'd given up on trying to answer.

    Sirius swore under his breath and looked around the room.

    "HEY!" Sirius barked as he climbed onto a table. He clapped his hands sharply before barking, "Everyone shut up! Move back, and let Remus through. If he's not sitting down within 20 seconds, I swear to Merlin, I'll burn off something far worse than just your eyebrows. Don't think I won't do it, you hear me?!"

    Everyone had. They had stopped talking once Sirius had begun shouting and were now watching him with displeased expressions.

    "Right, who's first?" asked Peter in a falsely cheerful tone when no one moved. "Malcolm? Jaxon? Bet Henry would look great without that shiny blonde mop he calls hair."

    There was a moment of silence, then, with a great deal of mumbling and ever more affronted looks towards Sirius and Peter, everyone hastily shifted around to allow Remus some space.

    Every eye in the common room followed Remus' movements as he maneuvered around plush armchairs and couches.

    "You alright?" asked Peter in a low voice as Remus reached them.

    The weary prefect nodded.

    "Whenever you're ready then," said Sirius quietly, knowing there was no way anyone would let the prefect return to his dormitory without first giving them some answers. And if he were being honest, Sirius too wanted to hear what had happened at dinner.

    Remus' eyes swept over Sirius and Peter once, then with a heavy sigh, he turned to face the others. A hush fell over the room as everyone looked expectantly at him.

    "Right, so, uh, what happened tonight was... well, you all saw Mary's sister, Margo, faint at dinner," Remus began, wringing his hands as he spoke, "and are clearly worried. Well, it's rather unfortunate what happened, but it seems that their elder sister, Annie MacDonald, and brother, Tobias MacDonald, have gone missing."

    There were gasps and sighs, whispers, and more hissing from the gathered crowd.

    Remus raised his voice as he continued, "They both worked for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and were out in the field when they went missing. No one knows anything more as of now. There is to be an announcement regarding the disappearances in tomorrow's Prophet. That's why Mary and her sister received a letter this evening by urgent mail instead of  regular post tomorrow morning. Margo - Mary's sister - has been given a sleeping potion to get her through the night. Our Head Girl is staying with Mary in the hospital wing for tonight. The Head Boy should be back soon."

    No sooner had the words left Remus' mouth that the door to the common room swung open again. This time, a weary James Potter stumbled in.

    Several people twitched, as though to now run to the messy haired boy for answers, but after shooting furtive glances at Sirius and Peter — both of whom stood on either side of Remus, glowering around the room with wands clutched in their hands — everyone stayed put.

    If James noticed the odd tension around the room, he did not acknowledge it.

    Coming to stand beside Remus, he asked in a low voice, "You told them?"

    Remus nodded.

    "Spiffing," mumbled James as he turned to the assembled crowd. His voice sounded hoarse, and Sirius could sense the exhaustion lacing his tone when James began talking to the room at large. "You've all heard then? Good. Now, uh, needless to say, no one is encouraged to go pestering the MacDonald's for any reason. It's been decided that the best thing we can do to support them during this difficult time is to not make things any harder or cumbersome."

    Sirius had the distinct impression that even though it was James' voice echoing around the common room, those were McGonagall's words they were hearing.

    "Everyone is advised to behave as normally as possible around the MacDonald sisters. That includes no pitying glances, no skirting around them in corridors, no talking behind their backs, and no sudden hushes when they walk into a room."

    James paused for a breath, and Remus added, "That is not to say you shouldn't be careful around them. Insensitivity towards them is not in anyone's best interests. Be mindful you don't make comments regarding their missing siblings, or anything else that might upset them. But other than that, be yourselves. Be kind, be courteous, be careful."

    The dull nods and half shrugs served as another reminder for Sirius that this wasn't the first time they'd heard the speech after all. Everything James and Remus had said had already been heard by everyone in the common room; the words were different, but their message remained the same every time.

    "Why didn't they send it to Mary?" asked a small voice. Sirius turned and saw it was a tiny girl, probably a first or second year, who had spoken, her hand raised in the air as she elaborated, "She's older, so I assumed it would have been sent to her?"

    "It was, Trixie," said James tiredly though not unkindly. "The letter arrived at the school owlery addressed to Mary MacDonald. The student supposed to hand it to Mary could not find her at dinner, and so decided to give it to her sister instead."

    "Professor McGonagall will be addressing the school tomorrow over breakfast," said Remus quickly, seeing new hands in the air. "You'll learn everything you need to know then. Now, if you'll excuse us, James and I should probably head to bed. As should the rest of you."

    When no one moved, Remus shot a warning look at James, who rolled his eyes. Still, he turned back to the crowd and said, "Yeah, go to bed, alright? Everyone's had a rough few hours, and we'll all need some sleep before exams tomorrow."

    The mention of exams elicited a loud groan from everyone.

    "I'm sorry!" yelled James over the angry mumbling, "But it's not my fault you're all nosy gits who stayed awake till now. Oi, shut it Fletchley! Now, stop asking questions and mouthing curses at me — yes, I meant you Boyd — and go to bed before you waste another hour that you could otherwise be using to sleep."

    Without so much as another glance, Remus and James headed towards the stone staircase that led up to the boys dormitories, leaving Sirius and Peter to hurry along in their wake. Irritated grumbles and curious questions followed the boys all the way up the stone stairs.

    "Stupid girl," mumbled Sirius later as the four boys trudged into their dormitory, "why would she give it to Mary's sister? They're not even in the same house."

    "The girl thought Mary's sister would keep it safe until the next day," Remus explained with a sigh as he shrugged off his robes, "She couldn't just hand over the letter to any Gryffindor, you know? Anyways, Mary's sister said she recognized their father's scrawl on the envelope and couldn't help but open it. Said she knew something bad had happened."

    "She wasn't wrong on that account," said James darkly as he fell onto his bed. "Rotten what happened to them."

    "I'm sure it's not going to be that bad. They're missing, right?" asked Peter quietly. He was perched at the edge of his bed, one arm in his nightshirt. "Means they're alive, wherever they are. It's only a matter of time before the Aurors find them."

    The other boys exchanged looks, and they knew instantly that none of them believed the MacDonald kids would ever be found. People had been disappearing for several months now, and not once had anyone been found. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that while missing people had indeed been found, none had been found alive.

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13 Maplebrook St.
London.

    AS THE SUN settled and gave way to darkness, Juliette found herself shivering against the light breeze wafting in through the slightly ajar windows of her bedroom. Drawing the blanket closer to her chest, she settled deeper into the bed where she had spent the entire day after waking up to a piercing headache to accompany the constant feelings of loneliness and confusion that had been gnawing at her for the past week.

    With a frustrated sigh, she turned her head sideways, and her gaze fell upon a large cup of cold tea. The mug was dark blue color that had icy blue and silver vines running along the length of it and had been a gift from Lynette. Heaven knows you'll need all the cups you can get, she'd said brightly as she'd stowed the set of mugs away in a kitchen cabinet, seeing as you consume tea as though it were water. Juliette couldn't remember drinking tea at all in the last few days; she couldn't remember eating anything at all. Not that she felt like she could stomach anything besides water and chilled apple juice.

    Shifting in her bed to lie on her back, Juliette stared at the ceiling. For as long as she could remember, she had had the fleeting but piercing, head-splitting headaches. They'd always come on unannounced, for no apparent reason, or none that she could name anyway. They'd leave her reeling in pain and confusion, her mind frustratingly addled as she tried to piece together the fragments that flashed before her eyes while the pains lasted. It was an odd illness she'd inherited, amongst other peculiar traits, such as her affinity for modern music, a disregard for polite pleasantries, and, of course, a lack of magic; it was an illness that no one else in her family had fallen prey to.

    When she had been younger, Juliette had been seen by many healers; some came to diagnose the reason for her headaches; many came to deduce why she hadn't shown signs of magic. No one had ever found an explanation for either question. And so it was that Juliette had spent her entire life pondering over - and hiding - her shortcomings, of which evidently there were many.

    Lynette's disapproving voice echoed in her mind as she thought this. It's just the family hysteria that's making you think this way, she'd say each time Juliette confided in her sister her many fears.

    As though a jolt of lightning had struck her, Juliette sat upright. Lynette.

    Of course, thought Juliette, pressing a hand to her forehead, Lynette would know what to do, or at least she'd know what to say. No one else would ever understand what Juliette was going through, but her sister would.

    With a sudden burst of energy that she hadn't felt in a long while, Juliette sprang to her feet and, ignoring the pounding in her head, rummaged through the desk in the corner of her room for parchment and ink.

    For the better part of the next hour, she sat at her desk, scribbling and scratching as she pondered over her words. When at last she'd finished, Juliette read over the letter once before she went to fetch Phorcys to deliver it:

Lynette —
          I hope you're doing alright. Semester must nearly be over, wouldn't it? Good luck for your final exams! I'm sure you're going to ace them. I'm alright too. I've managed to settle into my new home quite well, and I've made friends with the neighbor too, Penelope Bones. Penny, she calls herself. She doesn't know it (I'm careful to not give her any reason to suspect me) but she has been a great help in helping me understand the Muggle world.

For the most part, living in Muggle London isn't too bad. There's so much to do here, and so many places to visit, it almost feels like a very long vacation, not that I'm complaining. It's the most at peace I've ever felt. Yet something rather odd did happen the other day. I was out in London, you see, strolling along one of the nicer districts in St. James, when the aches returned. I don't know what brought it on; everything seemed to have been alright all week. I was really hoping these pains would stop if I moved to the Muggle world, but alas, it seems I was mistaken in thinking I'd ever escape this wretched feeling.

Now I know I'm worrying for no reason, but I must still ask: is everything alright? I'm sure it is, or else you or Ellis would've written to me. I'm sure it's nothing. I haven't had these pains for a few months, so I'm a bit shaken by it. I didn't know who else to tell, so I'm afraid you're the one who has to bear my words.

Let me know if you've heard back from the Auror Office! I'm still hoping for good news, even if your previous letter suggests otherwise. Perhaps paranoia runs in the whole family after all? Don't let it get to you; I'm sure you'll end up where you're meant to be, and where you'll do the most good.

All my love,
Juliette.

p.s. Would you be able to ask Healer Davies to resend me my potions? I'm nearly out of them, and so far, I haven't been able to find a Muggle alternative to them. I know what you're thinking, but there's no point in telling me to continue with St. Mungos. I'm determined to find a doctor (that's what Muggle healers are called; I told you Penny has been most helpful!) that can find something to help my nerves. You wouldn't believe how good these people are when it comes to things like these.

p.p.s How's Ellis? He hasn't answered my previous letter. Give him my love when you see him?

    Feeling quite satisfied with the letter, she sealed it with purple wax and hurried over to Phorcys' cage. Tying the letter around his leg with a piece of twine, she told him, "Take this to Lynette." Cold air rushed in when she flung the window panes open and set Phorcys onto the ledge. "Don't bother her for a response. But if she doesn't give you one soon, keep reminding her, okay? Good boy."

    The large tawny owl hooted softly, affectionately nipping Juliette's hand before taking off into the cold night. Juliette watched Phorcys' silhouette growing fainter and fainter as it flew further and further away. She only looked away once the owl had disappeared into a giant gray cloud whose underside was heavy with unshed rain. She turned to watch the street below uninterestedly. A few kids were milling around the lamp post, smoking cigarettes judging by the cloud of smoke that lingered around them. The street was otherwise deserted.

    Ding ding dong. A bell.

    It took Juliette a long moment to realize it was her own doorbell; no one had ever visited her flat before, after all. Well, Penelope had visited a dozen times in the few weeks Juliette had been here, but the rather genteel woman usually came around during the afternoon, and almost exclusively knocked. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was nearly 1am now. Vaguely, she thought it might be her brother. But no, she reminded herself, it couldn't be Ellis. He hadn't come to see her in months, and she knew from Lynette's letters that he'd been far too busy at work to even visit their parents.

    The bell rang again.

    With a wince, Juliette pushed herself from where she stood leaning against the window. Her head still ached, though she didn't know if it was due to the pains she'd been cursed with all her life, or simply because she'd spent the whole day crying and starving herself.

    Ding ding dong. Ding ding dong.

    "Yes, yes, I hear you," she muttered under her breath as she gathered her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck, still thinking wildly about who could possible visit her at this hour. Perhaps it was one of the neighbors? Mr. Fraser next door had said his wife was expecting, and she's heard Mrs. Fraser had been sickly for weeks now. Maybe they needed help with something?

Juliette threw on a well-worn dressing robe as she crossed her apartment. Surveying her surroundings, she saw the apartment was mercifully clean and (mostly) organized. A couple cardboard boxes still stood in one corner of the living room, as did a small pile of books that she had yet to sort through and arrange. A quick glance into the kitchenette told her there were no dirty dishes or pots and pans strewn about. Considering she'd barely left her room all week, she supposed the immaculate state her flat was in wasn't nearly as surprising.

    Ding ding dong.

    The sharp trilling of the bell was making her head pound. Scowling, Juliette unlocked the door and wrenched it open. "What?!"

    The corridor, which was always bathed in golden light, was dark except for a narrow beam of white light right outside her apartment, illuminating the person who had been knocking. Juliette's eyes widened when she saw who it was.

    There, standing on the other side of her door, wearing purple robes, half-moon spectacles, and a wide smile, was Albus Dumbledore.

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A/N.
aaaand we're halfway through Act I!!
Thanks for hanging in there with me :)