The Diplomat

By the end of October, classes had fallen into a nice rhythm, and the fourth years had found their set routines quite easily. The course load was difficult—the next year was their OWL year, and certain professors, like McGonagall and Flitwick, were giving them loads and loads of homework in preparation. Others, like Slughorn, had taken the opposite route, assigning so little that many a frazzled Ravenclaw felt woefully unprepared. 

Anjali, like most Ravenclaw students, excelled in a couple of subjects and did reasonably well in the rest, Herbology notwithstanding. Her best course was Care of Magical Creatures, which she’d only picked up as an elective the year before, like everyone else. She’d signed up on a whim, having been interested only in Muggle Studies and deciding that CoMC sounded better than Divination and less complicated than Ancient Runes or Arithmancy. She hadn’t expected to fall in love with the study of Magizoology.

It was like she’d finally found her niche—Hettie was brilliant in Astronomy and Ifeoma was practically a Charms prodigy, but Anjali had felt like she’d just been drifting until she’d discovered the Care of Magical Creatures elective in third year. She’d become pretty much obsessed, something her friends were all too quick to point out at every opportunity.

“You’re not going back to the Forest tonight, are you?” Asked Hettie, sounding scandalized as the three girls walked into Slughorn’s classroom for Potions. “You’ll miss the Halloween feast!”

“I have to!” Anjali insisted. “Those parents haven’t returned yet and the foals are still too small to survive on their own. Hagrid’s taking care of them now, but I promised I’d help out tonight.”

At the end of term last year, after their final exams, Anjali had approached Professor Kettleburn and asked him if there was any way she could do extra work with the magical creatures in the coming year. Kettleburn, who had a healthy apathy towards the rules on a rare good day and a blithe disregard for them on most others, agreed almost instantly and told her he’d inform her at the start of September if any opportunities arose. He’d found out from Hagrid that a couple of unicorn foals, barely three months old, had been left in the forest by their parents, which was an unusual occurrence but not altogether unheard of. Unicorn parents often left their foals for weeks at a time to scour for food. He’d tasked Anjali with watching them until the parents returned. They’d all thought that within three weeks, the foals would be back with their parents—but Anjali had been taking care of them for nearly two months now, and she and Hagrid were getting quite worried.

Ifeoma shook her head in mild exasperation. “At least come for an hour,” she bargained as she sat down in front of her cauldron. “Then you can go and babysit unicorn foals to your heart’s content.”

Anjali agreed, taking her own seat at the table. Hettie grumbled about Anjali and her priorities as she unceremoniously sat down on her stool.

“I still don’t see why you’re skipping a feast to spend time in the Forbidden Forest, of all places,” she sighed.

“It’s really not that simple, Hettie,” Anjali said, biting her lip. “Unicorns don’t usually leave their young for more than a couple of weeks. Something must have happened—something bad. I have to go help out those poor unicorns.”

Her two friends stared at her, a little worried all of a sudden. “You’ll be careful, though, won’t you?” Ifeoma asked. “If there is something out there hurting the unicorns, they might come after the foals, won’t they? You’ll be right in their way!”

“I’ll be fine,” Anjali said comfortingly. “Anything cowardly enough to hurt a unicorn wouldn’t dare attack a witch—and especially not when someone as imposing as Hagrid is just a stone’s throw away.”

But neither Hettie nor Ifeoma looked convinced. Anjali smiled at them, but even she felt a certain glimmer of doubt. Was she in danger? Despite her reassuring words, she didn’t entirely believe what she’d said to her friends. Surely anything evil enough to hurt a unicorn would have no qualms about attacking a fourteen year old witch—coward or not. Perhaps she should take up Hagrid’s offer of coming with her.

It was right then that Professor Slughorn came in, and the Ravenclaws had no more time to chatter as they began their class for the day. 

“Good morning, Ravenclaws!” Beamed Professor Slughorn. “Ah—Preston, I spoke with Professor Binns about that detention. It looks like you have the evening free after all! Might I hope that you will be attending the Halloween party in my office tonight?”

Preston Pucey, who was even more insufferable than usual in the face of Horace Slughorn’s favoritism, puffed his chest out. “Of course, Professor.”

“Excellent, excellent!” Said Slughorn merrily. He clapped his hands together. “Happy Halloween, everyone! I rather hoped I might theme today’s lesson with the day in mind, but unfortunately the fourth year curriculum does not include any directly relevant potions. Shame, too—my NEWT students are doing a Blood-replenishing potion, and the second years will be starting their Hair-raising potions—but no matter, I believe the draught I’ve chosen for you all will be very enjoyable indeed.” He beamed around at them. “Your class will be working on Exploding potions this week!”

Anjali raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Bet that will go over well in his third period.” She whispered to Hettie and Ifeoma, who giggled. Everyone in their year knew that the third period on Tuesdays and Thursdays was when Slytherins and Gryffindors in their fourth year had potions. A class dedicated to Exploding potions with the Marauders and Snape in the same room was sure to be Slughorn’s worst idea yet.

The Potions Master looked over at them. “Something the matter, Angeline?”

“No, sir,” Anjali reminded him wearily. He never got her name right. “And, er—it’s Anjali.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Slughorn said, but as he always said that and always forgot it by the next week, it didn’t mean anything. Sure enough, he merely cleared his throat and told them to open their books and flip through to page 173, where the Exploding potion was listed. “Now, can anybody tell me what this potion is used for? Anj—er, Miss Kumar, since you were discussing something so intensely with your friends, why don’t you share?”

Anjali furrowed her eyebrows. “The Exploding potion is used to, er, explode things, sir.”

Everyone laughed at that, even Slughorn. “Cheeky,” he chortled, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Anjali hadn’t meant to be cheeky, “But not quite the answer I was looking for.” He turned back to the class. “Anyone else?”

Preston Pucey raised his hand. Slughorn beamed at him. 

“Yes, Preston, go right ahead.”

“The Exploding potion is a defensive brew that, when dropped at a high velocity, provides a concussive blast that is often able to create a crater with a radius of about three meters.” He said obligingly, with even more unctuous a tone than usual. “It’s highly volatile, but only when thrown; you could carry around an Exploding potion for weeks without any sort of danger, though the longer it remains unused, the stronger the blast eventually is.”

“Precisely,” beamed Slughorn. “Take ten points.”

“Wasn’t that the same as saying it explodes, though?” Said Hettie indignantly to the other two as they left the dungeons about two hours later. “He ought to have given you those bloody points!”

“In order to do that,” Anjali said, with a long-suffering sigh, “He’d have to at least know my name, and we all know that he has never once attempted to retain that information. Pity, that—I mean, if I had the ability to simply forget the names of people I’ve had in classes for years, the travesty that’s Horace Slughorn would be first on my list.”

Her friends just grinned widely at her, shaking their heads in mock pity. 

“Oh, Anjali,” said Ifeoma under her breath. “If only you were this outspoken with more than just us and your cousin. Not a soul in the school would overlook you then.”

* * *

The Halloween feast this year, Sirius decided gleefully, was the best yet.

The decor, of course, was spectacular. Bats flew overhead, occasionally running through ghosts who’d popped inside for a quick look; they perched on floating stands just below the enchanted ceiling. A band of what seemed like six or seven vampires were playing surprisingly upbeat and folksy music in the corner—Sirius noticed that one of them was playing that Muggle instrument, bagpipes. In front of them, about a dozen skeletons, all dressed in the heights of Victorian fashion, were dancing to their tunes.

The dinner options were a chaotic but mouth-watering array of savory foods, mish-mashed from a variety of cultures around the world. There was, of course, the regular English dishes of shepherd’s pie and roast meats—but there was also dim sum and fried rice, naan and various kinds of koftas. Further down the table was a delightful spread of tamales and carnitas, lasagna and even neapolitan pizza. It seemed as if the school was determined to provide every one of its students the kind of comfort food they’d wanted since the term started. 

“Don’t tell me there’s actually palak paneer,” said James, eyeing a dish of spinach gravy and bits of cheese with suspicious longing, as if he didn’t dare believe what he saw. “I must be dreaming.”

Sirius grinned and reached out, pinching James just above the elbow. His friend yelped and jumped, turning to glare back at him. “What was that for?” He asked, mildly affronted.

“You’re not dreaming, mate,” said Sirius, trying to ignore the ghostly tingle in his fingers, where he’d touched James. 

“Dig in,” said Remus, helping himself to some brisket. Peter reached out for some pizza, and then passed the dish over to Sirius, who took the remaining two slices. 

“Oi!” Said James, scowling lightly. “I wanted some of that!”

The other three looked at him incredulously—he’d helped himself to the paneer dish and some naan already. Pizza was an odd addition to his meal.

But James Potter was nothing if not spoiled; he was, after all, the only child of two very rich and very indulgent parents, and he’d rarely wanted for something he couldn’t get. 

“You could always get more,” Remus sighed tiredly. “Really, it isn’t that hard.”

Sirius saw James’s gaze slide over to the Slytherin table; a moment later, James grinned, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, his mood instantly uplifted. “Right you are, Remus, right you are.” He pointed his wand carefully at the Slytherin table, where old Snivellus and his gang of wannabe Death Eaters were sitting.

“I didn’t mean—” Remus started.

“Accio pizza!” James muttered, and with a whoosh, the tray zoomed recklessly over the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, nearly braining poor Ifeoma Okoye, before landing perfectly in front of James, who smiled victoriously.

Sirius was laughing, as he always did when James was being a fool. There was nothing else that could quite bring up his mood the way James Potter did, with his careless nerve and casual misbehavior. He looked over at the Slytherin table; Snivellus was covered in what looked like tomato sauce, and with a swell of satisfaction, Sirius realized he must have been trying to grab a piece when James summoned it. Mulciber and Avery looked downright murderous, and Wilkes was staring mournfully down at his plate, where a single, solitary slice lay.

“Funny that they should hate Muggles so much and yet eat their food so zealously,” sneered James. “Stinking hypocrites. Another slice, Sirius?”

Sirius nodded, opening his mouth to reply (and perhaps dazzle James with his hilarity; one could never know, and Sirius was entitled to his hope, however futile it may be), but his opportunity was stolen away from him with a shout from the Ravenclaw table.

“Oi, Potter!” Hettie Silverfoot was glaring at them from the Ravenclaw table. Her raised voice had attracted the attention of a number of Hufflepuff fifth years, who watched the proceedings with interest. “You nearly took Ifey’s bloody head off!”

“Well, she’s fine, isn’t she?” Drawled Sirius boredly. “No need to get so worked up, Silverfoot.”

Remus gave him a warning glance, then sent an apologetic look over at Ifeoma. “They’re idiots,” he said easily, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not their bloody keeper, Remus!” Hettie snarled.

“No,” said James agreeably. “That’d be Jack Barnaby.” He gestured to a boy further down the table, a stocky and rather well built sixth year who was deep in conversation with Marcia Wood and who was indeed the Keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He, like most of the Great Hall, hadn’t noticed the commotion between the fourth year Gryffindors, Slytherins, and Ravenclaws. Peter snickered, and a few of the Hufflepuff fifth years smiled.

Henrietta went quite red in the face, but a placating hand on her arm seemed to stop her from pulling out her wand and hexing the boys. Ifeoma Okoye, ever the even-tempered, just rolled her eyes over at the boys.

“You owe me,” she called. The Hufflepuffs were looking back and forth between the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws like they were watching a particularly interesting Quidditch match. “I’ll expect fifteen galleons in damages, Potter, as well as a slice of that pizza.”

“But I didn’t even hit you!” James protested.

“Emotional damages,” Ifeoma amended. Then, she raised an eyebrow. “Or would you prefer we made McGonagall aware of your thievery?”

All four boys blanched.

“Here’s the pizza,” Peter acquiesced, using the levitation charm to sneak it over to the Ravenclaw table. Hettie and Ifeoma grinned and helped themselves.

“Hang on,” said James loudly, causing the dozen or so Hufflepuffs, who had finally turned back around to their food, to look back over at him. He ignored them and instead stared hard at Ifeoma and Hettie, his eyebrows furrowing. “Where’s Anjali?”

Huh.

Sirius hadn’t noticed that James’ cousin wasn’t sitting with her only friends; she wasn’t exactly a noticeable presence. But now that James had pointed it out, he saw that she wasn’t at the Ravenclaw table at all. Strange, that—he could have sworn he saw her walking into the Charms classroom as the Gryffindors were leaving it, so unless she’d gotten sick between then and the feast, there was no reason for her to miss it.

Hettie and Ifeoma exchanged a look. The Hufflepuffs tittered interestedly.

“She’s doing some extra credit,” Ifeoma replied. 

Sirius let out a slightly derisive snort. Figures—she was obsessed with school, it seemed. The poor girl needed to get a life, and the sooner the better. His mild curiosity now sated, he returned to his pizza, which tasted much better when it was stolen from Slytherin. Remus looked slightly impressed by her dedication, but otherwise disinterested. Peter, who was admittedly a bit of a gossip, looked as if he wanted to burst with a number of questions—but James beat him to it.

“What class could she possibly have extra credit in that forces her to miss the bloody Halloween feast?” He asked, perplexed.

Judging by the looks on their faces, neither Hettie nor Ifeoma were going to answer that; not that they would have had the chance to, anyway, as that was the precise moment that Head Girl Alice Chang whirled her head around to fix the boys with a glare.

“Enough!” She snapped. “Potter, one more unseemly shout from you and I’ll be sending you and Black to detentions at opposite ends of the castle!”

“What did I do?” Sirius said in an injured voice. He was more offended at the accusation than the potential consequence—Alice didn’t know that he and James had a two-way mirror to use during separate detentions.

“The two of you are practically the same person,” Peter pointed out. “Attached at the hip, and all.”

Sirius gave him a seething, burning glare. “Traitor!” He hissed.

Alice raised her eyebrows at his show of betrayal. “Punishing James alone never seems to do the trick; but punish his boyfriend along with him, and he might actually learn a thing or two!”

Sirius tried to stop himself from flushing at the word boyfriend. His cheeks warmed slightly, but he tried to play it off as indignation. “Are you at least going to tell Okoye and Silverfoot off, too?”

“Hm.” Alice glanced over at the two Ravenclaw girls, who were suddenly blinking innocently at her. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“Why not?” James protested hotly.

Alice’s eyes narrowed. “Because I like them.”

“That’s not fair!” Sirius complained. “That’s house prejudice, that is! I thought you were better than that, Al!”

A tiny grin twitched at the corner of Alice Chang’s lips. “Not house prejudice, just simple, straightforward favouritism.” She said. “Now, shut up or I’ll attract attention from the teachers!”

The boys complied grudgingly, sending wary glances over to the long table. McGonagall was looking over at them suspiciously, but the staff hadn’t quite realized what had happened. Strange—the Slytherins had usually complained to a teacher by this point.

But a quick look back at Snape and his crew of Death Eater friends showed that they had in fact chosen to tidy themselves up first, having been covered in pizza sauce after James had stolen their platter. They wouldn’t be caught dead in public looking undignified if they could help it, so they had to clean themselves up. Now that they were clean and scourgified, however, they’d lost any evidence they’d had that James had stolen their pizza, and so instead glared quite murderously in the Marauders’ direction. Sirius smirked smugly at them, and then gave them a jaunty wink.

Snivellus, in particular, went an angry, rashy red.

Now that the Slytherins were forced into silence, and the Gryffindors had been sufficiently cowed by Alice Chang, Sirius turned back quietly to James, Remus, and Peter. James was frowning slightly, and had abandoned both his naan and pizza.

“What’s wrong?”Asked Peter.

“We need to finish that map.” James said plaintively. 

Ah, yes—the map.

It had been Sirius’s idea, actually; Peter had once complained back in their second year that they kept getting into trouble, even despite James’s invisibility cloak, and James had mused that it would be so much easier to sneak around if they knew where the teachers and prefects were patrolling. Sirius had then had the brilliant idea of creating a map which tracked everyone in the castle, and which couldn’t be fooled by disillusionment charms or invisibility cloaks or even Polyjuice potion. When third year rolled around and they had found the secret passage into Honeydukes cellar, and Remus had told them the truth about the Whomping Willow, they’d decided they should add passageways to the map.

It was a tricky bit of magic, and it wasn’t yet complete. The layout of the school, of course, was, as well as the many passages that led in and out of Hogwarts; all that remained was the tracking charm, which would register the names and locations of everyone on the grounds, and the truth spell, which would prevent anyone from confusing the parchment. 

“We will, mate,” said Sirius, unconcerned. “By the time the next semester rolls around—”

“No,” James said, shaking his head. He narrowed his eyes at the Ravenclaw table curiously. “Anjali is up to something,” he said decisively. “She’s got a secret. I want to know exactly what it is, now.”

Personally, Sirius was skeptical. He’d never seen Anjali Kumar do anything remotely suspicious, and he didn’t know if she was even capable of rule breaking. It was more likely, he rather thought, that weak, talentless little Peter received an Order of Merlin than it was that Anjali Kumar was sneaking around in secret.

Remus, however, seemed to take issue with something else. The young werewolf sighed and shook his head. “James,” he said resignedly, “You really are the nosiest blighter to ever walk these halls. Your poor cousin deserves some privacy, don’t you think?”

“Said poor cousin would probably have a heart attack if you so much as asked her to perform unauthorized magic in the hallways,” Sirius added. “Bless her heart—I really do think she’s skipped the bleeding feast for some homework.”

But James just shook his head stubbornly. “You don’t know her like I do,” he insisted, his eyes flashing with curiosity. “She hasn’t opened up to you, so you don’t know what she’s like. I’m telling you, she’s up to something.”

* * *

James was, of course, correct. 

As the Gryffindor boys argued in the castle, Anjali sat out on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, leaning against a tree as she watched the two golden unicorn foals carefully. She was on high alert, ready to react if something jumped out at her from the shadows. The Forbidden Forest was, after all, home to many a hungry beast.

Her wand was out, and she was ready to cast Lumos at the slightest hint of danger, though at present the forest had not yet crossed the boundary between ‘creepy but manageable’ and ‘certain to induce sudden death.’ There was the odd, menacing rustle in the bushes, but unicorns were very adept at sensing danger, and neither of the foals had spooked yet. The colt was sniffing curiously at some grass, evidently suspicious about its nutritive properties. His sister hadn’t the same caution, and was instead snapping her teeth at it playfully, tasting it before spitting it out.

The colt nickered at his sister, who huffed back. They began trotting around each other in circles, clearly gearing up to play. Anjali got to her feet, ready to jog after them to keep an eye on them. Even at a few months old, unicorns were faster than humans, but Anjali, Hagrid, and Kettleburn had raised these two since they were just a few weeks out of birth, and they knew to wait for her to catch up.

The filly ran up quickly to Anjali and nickered, reaching out and touching her nose gently to Anjali’s hip. Anjali smiled down at her and gently rubbed her cheek. Her brother, feeling left out, came up on Anjali’s other side and pawed lightly at the ground, demanding the same attention.

But the minute Anjali took her hand away from the filly to pet the colt, the feisty unicorn took off in a canter, clearly curious and ready to explore her home. Her brother, not to be outdone, pelted away after her.

“Oi!” Anjali said. “Wait up!” She pointed her wand in front of her. “Lumos!” She said as she began to run behind the little unicorns. She worked hard to ignore the sudden pang of fear she felt as she entered the forest. It was a rather scary place, and she didn’t exactly fancy the undoubtedly undignified end she would meet, were she to in fact meet her end here. She wasn’t too worried about losing the foals, however; they recognized her as a friend and a caretaker, and this wasn’t the first time they’d run off to do some exploring. At this age, they were eager and inquisitive and just learning independence, but they still wanted the comfort and familiarity of their trusted keepers. 

Regardless, Anjali thought with mild exasperation and a stab of nervousness, it was just her luck that the bloody foals wanted to lead her deeper into the forest. If it were any other magical creature, she’d be sure that they were trying to lure her for her own gruesome murder. But unicorns were pure, full of powerful and innocent magic, full of love and joy.

She heard the foals whinnying up ahead. Her brows furrowed, and her heartbeat spiked with anxiety. They didn’t sound playful and happy anymore—instead, they seemed distressed. She raised her wand higher as she slowed down, stopping and hiding behind a large, gnarled tree.

(She was no Gryffindor! She wasn’t going to burst in there rashly and try and fight a—a bloody troll, or an ogre, for Rowena’s sake!)

She swallowed tightly and quickly checked her surroundings. Apart from her heart beating double speed in her chest, the only sounds she could hear were the shuffling of the two foals and her own rather loud breathing. She peaked around the corner of the tree cautiously.

The two foals were pawing the ground apprehensively. The filly was continuing to whinny in alarm, and the colt let out a series of anxious snorts. They seemed to be reacting to something on the ground.

Anjali looked around. There was nothing there, at least so far as she could see. In a slow, cautious move, she took a step forward, away from the tree.

Nothing happened.

Heart pounding hard, palms sweating, Anjali took another step forward, and then a third. The forest rustled with its usual ominous noise, but nothing jumped out suddenly or attacked her.

Slowly, nervously, she approached the foals, frowning at whatever had spooked them.

It was on the ground, whatever it was, but it must have been small. For one thing, the two unicorns were practically nose to nose and covering the scene entirely. For another, Anjali couldn’t see a body, which was promising, though she reminded herself quickly that if it were, say, a Thestral, she wouldn’t be able to see it, anyway. 

But it was no Thestral.

When Anjali managed to get close enough to see what it was, she felt her eyes widen with horror. She stumbled back, hitting the tree she’d hidden behind quite hard with her shoulder—she thought she heard her blouse tear and her skin suddenly smarted. Nausea swirled and clenched at her stomach. Swallowing tightly, she raised her wand into the air and sent off bright red sparks, so high that they would certainly be visible from Hagrid’s cabin.

Try as she might, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the scene in front of her.

The two unicorn foals were nudging a mostly decomposed carcass. The bones were partly scattered, and mostly covered in dirt, which was why Anjali hadn’t spotted them earlier. Only a piece of its skin remained, stretched thin over half-buried protruding ribs. Everything else had been stripped away, as if the environment had quite meticulously removed almost any clue as to its identity.

But Anjali knew.

Her sharp eyes followed the skin over the ribs to its jagged edge, took in the dried, silvery blood that splattered somewhat haphazardly over the rest of the bones. Its horn was missing, she realized, feeling bile rise in her throat. The mane and tail, too, had clearly been stripped, hacked away, and presumably for potions use.

How utterly vile.

Another terrible, sinking realization hit Anjali as she looked at her young charges. Unicorns were rather solitary creatures, unless they were in their family pods. They were peaceful creatures, but instinctively wary, even of each other. There was no reason for the foals to react with such distress.

Not unless this dead adult was its mother.