Something Different Bloomed
Two weeks earlier
The carriage bumped up and down the cobblestone streets of London, its occupants swaying a bit from side to side. Odelia was leaning her head against the window pane, and when one especially vicious jolt caused her forehead to knock hard against it, she shifted to sit properly on the velvet cushions. Her uncle snorted with derision. Phineas Nigellus Black sat opposite, close enough for her to see the contempt etched into the corners of his sulky mouth. She didn’t particularly care what he thought of her though. Conceited Slime. That’s what her father used to call him, prompting a half-hearted reproach from her mother who anyway could not contain her smile of amusement.
The carriage drew to a halt. The door opened and The Slime stepped out. His every action conveyed an air of undeserved self-importance. Pathetic little man.
“Come, girl” he barked. She glared at him and stepped out, pointedly ignoring his attempt to marshall her in a particular direction. She knew perfectly well where they were, who she had been brought to see - memories from her childhood had come flooding back the moment that an imposing townhouse with a black front door had appeared out the carriage window. Odelia might have - should have - been nervous, but to her surprise felt nothing.
Huh, how interesting.
It was like standing just behind her own body, watching it perform the right actions at the right time. A peaceful detachment.
The door swung smoothly open and, as would be expected, Phineas Nigellus Black strode ahead, disappearing into the darkness through the entranceway. Odelia glanced briefly around the street, then followed him inside.
-----------------------
A carriage stood on that same cobbled street again, only this time waiting to take her away. A vague mist clung to the surroundings. Odelia stood to the side and watched trunks of varying sizes being strapped to the luggage rack. Looking back at the townhouse, she recalled her grandmother's parting words:
“You are a Black. Do not forget that.” Then she turned away, the door shutting behind her.
I won’t forget. I want to make you proud.
The sun shone bright, momentarily blinding her, then disappeared behind a cloud.
A voice broke through her reverie of thoughts.
“Ah! It appears we are almost ready to depart.”
She turned to face Professor Fig who had just walked around from the side of the carriage.
“It’s a pity we didn’t have a bit more time to spend on spell-casting.”
Odelia smiled quietly to herself, remembering the old man’s caution not to reveal her previous knowledge of spell-casting. He seemed ready to cover for her - and she was grateful to him. Her parents were always careful about that too.
“I presume you’ve been practising the spells we worked on.” Professor Fig raised his eyebrows, signalling for her to play along.
“I have, Professor.” Odelia replied quickly, wanting him to know that she understood.
“Well, I’m quite sure I’ve never seen anyone take so quickly to a second-hand wand. You’ll be a force to be reckoned with when you get your own.”
“Thank you, Professor Fig. I appreciate your working with me before the term begi -”
What was that? A sudden sound was heard to Odelia’s right, like that of a large umbrella opening. She and the Professor both turned their heads.
A rather stout individual had appeared in the middle of the street, his back turned to them. He pivoted jerkily, looking around as if unsure where he was. An air of bumbling incompetence accompanied him.
“Oh! Eleazar!” He moved towards them, chuckling good-naturedly as he went.
It struck Odelia that he looked quite like one of those moles she used to watch, snuffling around in the grass before retreating to their cozy burrows.
“George.” Professor Fig sounded relieved. “Glad my rather cryptic description of our location did not thwart your finding us.”
“I’ve Apparated to more vaguely defined destinations than this! Though, I confess I may have miscalculated slightly on my first try. Gave quite the fright to some theatre-goers in the West End.”
The man leaned over to Odelia, as if it was a private joke that the two of them shared.
Is it really necessary for him to chortle after every sentence? What is it that he is finding so humorous?
The Professor drew his attention back. “It’s been much too long. When I received your owl. I must say I -”
“Best not speak here, Eleazar, hm?”
“Of course. Why don’t we speak en route to Hogwarts? We have a start-of-term feast and a Sorting Ceremony to get to.”
“Wonderful idea! As long as your young charge here doesn’t mind me tagging along.”
Odelia didn’t suppose she had much choice in the matter. Besides, she was intrigued. What was it the two men were so wary of that they could only speak of it in secret, under the guise of other business? The street appeared to be deserted.
Isn’t that odd, in London.
“Not at all, sir.”
Professor Fig waved his arms towards the carriage. “After you!”
They all moved to climb in.
“Ages since I’ve been to the castle!” exclaimed the man - George. “Would be good to see the old pile of rocks.”
But as he paused to climb up the steps, Odelia noticed that his jovial tone no longer matched his demeanour. He seemed nervous.
They settled themselves on the cushions. The Professor sat next to her, and George opposite. It was extremely still outside the fogged-up window, as if the air itself was holding its breath. Odelia had the unsettling feeling that they were being watched.
The coachman flicked the reins, and they rode up, up, and away, over the rooftops of London.
-----------------------
They had been travelling for some time now, flying smoothly through the clouds.
Professor Fig and his friend chatted vaguely but it all seemed very distant to Odelia. Now that they had completely left surroundings familiar to her, she could not help but worry about what was waiting on the other side of this journey.
What if no one talks to you? What if they don’t like you? What if you are forced to be alone.
She turned to face the window, taking in a few extra inhales through her nose. But the conversation of her companions had turned towards her, so she brought her attention back to them.
“A new student,” Professor Fig was saying. George - Mr Osric, as the Professor had referred to him as - must have asked about her.
“New?” The surprise was evident in his voice.
“Yes, sir,” Odelia replied neutrally. “I’m starting school as a fifth-year.”
“How extraordinary.”
Wow, thank you so much George. I didn’t feel quite apprehensive enough about this already, so thank you for adding to it.
Professor Fig glanced at her, as if he could tell what she was thinking. “It is, indeed. None of the faculty has ever heard of anyone being admitted to Hogwarts so late.”
“Nor have I!” George - the bumbling mole man - was really beginning to irritate her.
“Of course, as the other fifth-years will have been honing their magical skills for four years now, the Headmaster asked if I could get our new student up to speed a bit before term begins.” The Professor was certainly a determined weaver of new truths. She wondered whether he would want her to conceal the true extent of her existing capabilities from the other teachers.
And the other thing… But he doesn’t know about that yet.
George Osric nattered on. Odelia blinked and smiled, pretending to pay attention.
But the tone of the conversation had changed. Mr Osric had leaned forward, suddenly more business-like, and pulled out a newspaper from his coat pocket.
“Have you seen this?” he asked grimly.
Ranrok’s Goblin Rebellion
Truth? Or Gobbledegook?
A goblin glowered up at them from the picture. A slight shiver went up her spine.
“I have. Opinions differ as to how great a threat Ranrok really is.”
All of a sudden, an overwhelming sense of uneasiness hit Odelia. She tried to focus on their conversation, but to no avail.
“Although I’ve yet to convince my colleagues at the Ministry, I believe he is a significant threat.”
Something shifted in the corner of her eye outside the window, but when she looked closer nothing could be seen through the curling mists. She glanced at Mr Osric, worried. He was still talking. Gone was the bustling bureaucrat, a more solemn man sat in his place.
“And it was your wife, Eleazar, who alerted me to his activities months ago.”
“Miriam? How?” The Professor, for the first time, sounded bewildered.
Mr Osric sighed heavily, and continued with an air of despondency. “She wrote to me about Ranrok before she died - wondering what the Ministry knew about his activities. Before I could respond, I received this. It was the last thing she sent me, Eleazar.”
Once again, he reached into his pockets and produced a curious metal cylinder with flowing designs engraved upon it. In the centre was the mark in the shape of a flame.
“It came via her owl - but with no correspondence. I can only only assume -”
“- that she had to get rid of it quickly to keep it safe.” Was that anger in his voice? Or determination.
“Presumably from Ranrok. I cannot open it. Whatever magic protects this is powerful indeed.”
“It looks like goblin metal!” Professor Fig addressed this to her, and held it in her direction so she could see it closer. “That symbol -”
No it can’t be. But it is.
Odelia knew it too well to not say anything. It haunted her dreams almost every night. “What’s that glow?”
She had never considered it before now, but what if there was someone at this school who might be able to help her? Perhaps Professor Fig?
Both men looked right at her.
“I don’t see a glow?”
“Nor do I,” put in Mr Osric thoughtfully.
Professor Fig handed her the cylinder. Yes, there it was. Blue light flickered along the carving of the flame. Then in a flash it flowed outwards along the raised lines - she almost dropped the object for fear of touching it - then with a click it popped open, revealing a large, weighty key inside.
George Osric exclaimed, “Merlin’s beard! How did you - ?”
As he spoke Odelia, acting on an impulse she could not explain, reached inside to pick up the key.
“Wait!” Professor Fig stopped her urgently, taking it out of her hands. “We do not know what -”
A crash burst through the carriage. Odelia was thrown back hard, the breath knocked clean out of her. As she gasped and struggled to blink the stars out of her eyes she saw -
The back half of the carriage was gone, George Osric along with it.
Shapes swung all around them in the sky, parts of a creature so large and fearsome that she could’ve scarcely made sense of what she was seeing if it were not for the stories told to her as a child.
A dragon.
She and the Professor struggled to maintain their grip on the disintegrating structure. Below them, clouds swirled. As they watched, the dragon rose up into their view and thrashed his head violently from side to side, the back half of the carriage still crushed in his mouth.
Her ears rang. Poor George Osric.
The dragon, now finished with its first attack, pumped its wings and began to gain on the remainder of its prey. The carriage was shaking too much for Odelia to see what was happening, and the wind rushed past at a furious pace as if it too wanted them destroyed.
The dragon drew closer and opened its mouth, hot flames building in its throat.
The Professor grabbed her arm, “Jump!”
And not a moment too soon, above them an explosion shook the sky. The force of it threw them apart and they tumbled through the sky.
For a moment Odelia felt a peace envelop her, a weightlessness. No one could reach her here in the sky, and the wind had become so loud now that she heard nothing at all.
“The key!” Professor Fig had lost his grip on the container in the explosion and now it burst open, the key falling further out of his reach. “Give me your hand!” he cried - Odelia reached out, and as she did felt a heavy shadow descend upon them.
There was a rush of noise from above. The key was still out of reach.
“Accio!”
Odelia twisted, and darkness rushed up to meet her.
-----------------------
“Ow!” she hit the rocky ground with a thud. Already dizzy from the fall through the sky, the impact did not help the throbbing sensation that was slowly building in the back of her skull. Attempting to stand was not a good idea, and her vision darkened.
“Here,” the kind voice of Professor Fig broke through the dull thudding in her ears. “Take this. It’s Wiggenweld Potion. That stuff’ll right you in a second. She did, and found that it helped almost immediately. The colours of her surroundings slowly transformed to brighter hues, and she slowly climbed to her feet.
They were in a rocky cavern of some form. A few shrubs grew here and there, more at the other end where beams of bright sunlight shone through. Once he had seen that she was okay, Professor Fig moved to the mouth of the cave, and after a moment Odelia followed, bringing into view a rocky coastline with grey clouds clustered along the horizon between the sea and an otherwise clear sky. There was an island protruding tall and alone out of the water upon which were perched the ruins of a later stone structure. Beneath them waves crashed against the cliffs, and seagulls flew through the air, squawking noisily.
They stood there for a moment - Professor Fig apparently lost in thought.
“Sir -” she asked tentatively, “where are we?”
“I’m not sure… But that key you discovered was clearly a Portkey.”
He was now looking more intently at the island before them, and at a winding path that led along the side of the cliff towards it.
“I’m feeling better, sir - if you’d like to look around a bit.”
“I would. But stay close. We’ve no idea who created this Portkey - or why.”
He paused for a minute, as if contemplating the options before him. And when he spoke again it was with a more firm resolve than before.
“But Miriam sent that Portkey to George for a reason. And I believe that she - and now George - died in pursuit of whatever it was meant to lead to. If you’re sure you’re all right, and wouldn’t mind indulging me, I’d like to have a look around.”
“Absolutely, sir.”
As they made their way down the trail, Odelia caught the glint of adventure in his eye. Clearly there was more to this kindly Professor than he had previously let on. She longed to question him about the blue light that appeared on the container of the Portkey, but it seemed pretty obvious that he could neither see it, nor had he ever seen it before.
Not yet. We can’t trust anyone with this yet. Don’t let him know that you’ve seen it before.
Perhaps if they found something it might begin to offer an explanation.
“Mind your step!” Professor Fig reached back to support her as she stumbled over a particularly rocky part of the path. She smiled, and thanked him.
“Where do you suppose your wife got the Portkey that brought us here?”
“A good question. Miriam spent years searching for evidence of a long-forgotten form of ancient magic.”
Odelia nearly stopped dead in her tracks. Her chest felt tight, though she refused to allow anything to show on her face. Thankfully, Professor Fig did not seem to notice.
“Ancient Magic?”
“Yes! A powerful magic wielded by a rare few - that seems to have been lost to time. Hogwarts castle was built by, and is itself a stronghold of that ancient magic. I don’t know where she came into possession of the Portkey. But I am certain it was to do with that search.”
They were getting further down the cliff now. Thoughts raced through her head, too swift for her to catch onto any coherence.”
Could that be what it was? Ancient Magic? An Ancient Curse, more like.
Or power…
Odelia was so lost in her own whirlwind of introspection that she did not notice that Professor Fig had come to a halt right in front of her. She gasped and almost fell, but once again, the Professor was there to catch her by the arm and steady her.
There was what appeared to be a mirror, like the one on her vanity back home, but made of black glass and so large that it completely blocked them off from the path ahead. That didn’t make any sense.
Moving closer, she could see a blurred figure of herself reflected in it. “Is that ice?”
“It’s not cold enough here. It appears to be a sort of enchantment. Someone wanted to block this path.”
He stepped closer and examined the frame.
“Let’s see some of that wandwork that you’ve learnt.” He moved to the side.
Odelia took a breath and raised her wand. Her parents had taught her few actual incantations, rather they had shown her how to channel an intention into an effect, usually without a wand at all. They hadn’t dared take her to be matched with her own, and so borrowed ones had had to do.
A flick downwards - red light flashed and a small crack appeared in the centre of the glass. Again - it shattered completely, shards swirling through the archway before dissolving into nothing.
“Excellent!”
And they continued onwards, Professor Fig leading the way. He was almost buzzing with anticipation, and Odelia was too distracted by the possibilities surrounding his late wife’s research to say anything.
“We’re close now. It’s just ahead.”
They had come out onto the end of a stone bridge. It was broken, the middle crumbled through as though an enormous sledgehammer had been taken to it. The cold wind blew in their faces, pushing them back.
“Steady yourself!”
The Professor staggered to the edge against the force of the gale, and bringing his wand in a series of circular motions above his head cried “Reparo!” Huge chunks of rock rose out of the sea and followed the swirling motions of this wand, settling into their rightful place to form a crossing.
Odelia gasped. She had never seen such a powerful display of magic!
Well, not from any other person, anyway.
He turned back, smiling at her awestruck expression. “Shall we?” And proceeded to run nimbly down the newly created path.
It led to a courtyard of sorts, though, like the bridge, large sections had been reduced to little more than rubble and strewn around. It must have been an impressive structure once.
There was a circular pattern laid in smaller stones in the centre of the space. Odelia walked over and stood just on the edge. “Why would someone have built this here?”
“I suspect they valued their privacy. That Portkey led us here for a reason.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Let’s have a look around for anything that seems - out of place.” Then he walked purposefully towards the mural etched onto the back wall.
The wind whipped all around the island, but inside the structure was curiously still. The Professor was clearly engrossed by his findings, and so not quite knowing what to do with herself, Odelia wandered past a strange statue and out onto what might have only been a sort of terrace. There was another room behind the structure, with steps leading up to a wall that, unlike the others, was almost completely intact. And on that wall…
It was that enchanted, crystallised stone again. But this time, a familiar blue light gleamed through the cracks.
This is it - you mustn't stop now. All the answers will be here.
Any initial reluctance to obey her grandmother's orders had by now faded. Instead she felt a new determination, a real desire to go on.
See? She does know what is best for you.
“Professor Fig!” He came running round the corner, and stood by her on the platform.
“How odd. Why would someone have conjured that enchanted stone here?”
Moving closer, Odelia saw that her reflection was no longer alone in the dark, but in a golden vaulted hall. “And how is there a room behind it?”
Professor Fig turned to look at her, his eyes crinkling with curiosity. “What room? I don’t see anything.”
She chose her next words carefully. “There’s that glow again - like the glow on the Portkey container!”
They looked at each other in confused silence. Well, Professor Fig was confused. Odelia wanted him to understand, and work it out for her. Acting on impulse, she reached forward and -
Stop! What are you doing? Do you not know by now that it is dangerous?
She hesitated, her hand a hair's breadth from the cool glass.
But do you really want to go back to how it was? Forever living in fear of it?
So she pressed her hand forward, Professor Fig watching over her.
I didn’t think so.
-----------------------
It was difficult to say how they had ended up in a chamber of Gringotts Wizarding Bank, trying to wake up a goblin who had fallen asleep slumped over his desk, yet there they were.
After a few polite “Ahem’s!”, an exasperated glance back at Odelia, who was attempting to swallow a giggle, and a much louder and slightly less polite “Ahem!”, Professor Fig had succeeded in waking up the unfortunate, startled banker.
He peered inquisitively over the massive ledger to look down at them.
“It can’t be! Uhh, just a moment.”
He disappeared and a few grunting noises emanated from behind the bureau.
Despite the seriousness of all that had transpired since they left London, the vaguely alarmed looks that the Professor was sending her way made Odelia want to burst out in laughter. However, that would not do much to help the situation, so she refrained.
Finally, the stout goblin emerged and waddled over to them, panting as he went. Sitting at a desk all day had evidently made movement difficult for him. Climbing off his high chair was probably more onerous a task than scaling a mountain was for anyone with any level of physical fitness.
Bowing low, he proclaimed, “Welcome to Gringotts! Vault number twelve, I presume?”
Professor Fig quickly cleared his throat - “Precisely.”
The goblin sneered, as if he could sense how little the man before him understood about the situation. “The key?”
“Hmm?”
Odelia turned away from the goblin and whispered, “Your wife’s Portkey?”
“Oh yes. Of course.” He offered it over to the banker, who took it from him.
“This way, then.” And he led them to a railway track off the side of the room, where a cart presently pulled up. They all climbed in and it rolled away, down into the depths of the bank.
Odelia had been to Gringotts before, as a small child. It was much as she remembered - stalactites and stalagmites, and a track that twisted and turned as it plunged downwards. Her family’s vault had been quite far down, being as it was one of the older ones, but this time they were going much deeper. By the time the cart levelled out and pulled up alongside a goblin wearing a guards uniform, she realised they must be headed to the section protected by the most security possible. Vault twelve… It must be hundreds of years old.
The guard glowered, and after brief questioning, allowed them to pass, gesturing with a long-fingered hand.
I don’t like the look of him at all…
They continued, only slower now, and as Odelia watched that same goblin guard appeared on a parallel track, then disappeared in another direction.
“Professor -”
“Hmm?” He leaned in, so as not to be overheard.
“ - the arm band that guard was wearing was glowing.”
“Like the glow you saw on the Portkey container?”
“No, darker. I saw that same glow on the dragon’s collar.”
The goblin turned his attention away from driving the cart and interrupted. “What was that?” Professor Fig spoke with him, but before Odelia could say any more the cart slowed down and stopped next to a platform.
“Here we are.”
They all got out and Professor Fig went ahead, still speaking to the goblin.
Odelia hung back. What could all of this mean? Though she felt reassured that the Professor was with her. From the brief time that they had spent together, she for some reason trusted him to be able to deal with anything that came their way with the same calm assurance he had already shown.
Ahead of her the goblin turned the key in the lock and the vault door swung open. Professor Fig thanked him and stepped inside - she rushed to join him.
The inside was bare, aside from a few candles lighting their way. Odelia was confused, “What do you suppose we should be looking for?” she asked.
“I’m not sure.” He turned to the doorway, where the goblin stood. “Sir, I wonder if you might -”
The goblin sniffed, and stood up straighter. His self-important air was becoming infuriating. “The instructions for vault twelve indicate that I am to grant access to the holder of the key - and then close the door.”
WHAT?
He raised his hand, and the door slammed shut.
Oh.
Professor Fig turned to her. “That was certainly unexpected.” She might have panicked, if not for his unruffled assessment of the situation.
Actually, now would be a great time to panic. You have been locked in an ancient bank vault by an apparently homicidal goblin.
But the Professor had the situation well in hand, waving his wand around the room and muttering. As he passed the back wall, something glimmered in the darkness, almost imperceptibly.
Really? Again? For goodness sake.
“Umm, Professor? I think I saw something.”
She walked forward and they stood together, facing the cold stones. A door had appeared, glowing faintly in the darkness.
At least this time you know what to expect.
At the Professors command, she laid her hand on the symbol in the centre of it, and once again darkness enveloped them.
-----------------------
As it turned out, Odelia did not know what to expect. The black cover over her eyes did not lift until she heard the Professor's voice saying “Lumos!” Even then, the light from the end of his wand lit only a small area around them - just enough to see a large stone pillar but nothing else. Professor Fig was speaking, reassuring her. She looked up at him and nodded.
Does he think I’m scared? I’m not scared.
He led her through the room, empty aside from the columns that occasionally blocked their way.
But then, what was that? A small puddle of shimmering light on the floor. Odelia froze.
You’ve seen this before. So. Many. Times.
But the Professor was forging ahead, so she followed.
Are you mad? Stop!
She took a breath, attempting to restrain her own thoughts.
Don’t tell me what to do. Would you rather wander around in the dark? You have to tell him that it’s there - he can’t see it. He can help.
“Professor, I see something up ahead!”
“What is it?”
“That glow again. But - on the floor.”
They stopped, just in front of it.
Okay, go on then.
And without waiting for the Professor's assent, she knelt, gathering the strands of light onto the tip of her wand, and by some strange impulse flung it up into the air over her head.
All the light in the room rushed away from them, and disappeared.
“Professor?”
Silence.
“Professor Fig!”
She knew it then, she was alone. Then it shifted.
The world was blue and rippled around her. Everything she touched, everywhere she stepped, that blue light spread. And yet, she was powerless to move, to run, to scream. Powerless. Time had stopped within a jar, and she was the moth trapped inside of it.
The thoughts came at her in waves of attacks, the more she fought them the more appeared. She had been able to resist with the Professor there to help, able to fight and take them down one by one, but now that she was alone -
Alone in the dark.
WHERE WAS PROFESSOR FIG?
Okay. Take it one step at a time. Like you said, there is no one here to help. So get your act together, because nobody can save you. You are going to have to do it yourself.
Odelia sobbed silently.
Just breathe.
She focussed on the floor in front of her. On the brillant patterns left by the waves of light. Her vision tunnelled.
That’s okay. Block everything else out.
Slowly, so slowly, she reached her hand forward and touched the tip of her wand to the place where the light was brightest.
Go on, you can do it.
And with every ounce of her strength, she drew it towards her and flung it up into the air!
And it disappeared.
In its place stood an archway, much like the one on the cliff. Only there was no stone here, just a faint glow.
Red began to creep into the edges of her vision.
There was nothing else for it. She stepped through.
-----------------------
In the centre of the room was a curious bowl, a delicate vial floating over it. As she reached out to take it, a door to her right flung open, and in strode Professor Fig.
“There you are! How did you - ? What is this place?”
“I don’t know. But, I found this floating above that - basin.”
For the first time, the Professor looked truly astonished. “That is no mere basin. That is a Pensieve - for viewing memories.” He glanced towards the vial in Odelia’s hand. “I wonder -” He took it, unscrewed the cap, and poured its contents gently in. The liquid formed shapes in the cloudy depths.
“Follow my lead”. And the Professor gripped the sides of the Pensieve, dipping his head forwards into it. Odelia did the same, and though she knew that her feet had remained on the ground, she felt as though she was tumbling through the sky again, never reaching the bottom.
-----------------------
The memory belonged to a wizard - Percival Rackham was his name. He and his friend - Charles Rookwood - had created this room, and a path to go with it.
They were unsure whether this was the right thing to do. They spoke for some time, testing each other, and the limits of their creation.
Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the memory ended. Odelia stood back up, Professor Fig doing the same opposite her. She looked at him, hoping he had understood more than she had.
Only one thing stuck with her really. That man, Percival Rackham -
He has our power too.
-----------------------
A red flash sparked at the opposite doorway to the one Professor Fig had entered by, cutting him off mid-sentence. Harsh voices could be heard, Odelia looked up in alarm.
The doors crashed apart, and in strode - wait - it was that goblin. The one George Osric had showed her in the paper. Ranrok.
“I was right.” he snarled. Behind him, his entourage cowered. And there was that guard, and the banker too!
“Ranrok -” the Professor strode forwards to meet him, Odelia falling in step just behind him.
“Seems my reputation precedes me. I was beginning to think no one was ever going to visit Rackham’s vault.”
Professor Fig drew his wand, Odelia did the same. “And why are you here?”
“No need for that.” Ranrok raised his hand in what could have been a conciliatory gesture. Somehow, she didn’t think it was. “Just give me whatever it is you found here, and we can let bygones be bygones.”
The Professor lowered his eyebrows and adjusted his stance, not deigning to reply.
“Sir,” the goblin banker broke in, stepping forwards, “they had the key to the vault.”
Ranrok looked around, slowly, menacingly. “Choose your next words wisely.”
“I - I - I only meant that the instructions for vault twelve were quite clear.”
He was braver than Odelia had given him credit for. As he stammered on, she wanted to scream at him to stop, to turn and run. Could he not understand what was about to happen?
And then it did. Without even glancing back at the poor, stuttering goblin, Ranrok raised his arm - sending the goblin high into the air, and then crashing down into the floor.
“I have no patience for traitors.”
He did not get back up.
And the red light he used…
That confirmed it for Odelia. The years of nightmares, everything, it was all connected to this. She would not stop until it had been resolved.
“Now,” Ranrok snarled, “where were we?”
Professor Fig was really angry now, she could tell. “I’m not giving you anything.”
“Mmh, well - perhaps your young friend will be more helpful.”
Professor Fig had stepped in front of her, and now glanced back, a worried expression on his face. She held his gaze - she was not afraid of Ranrok, she would follow him whatever happened. So he turned back, and as he did -
A wave of power rocked the room.
His spell had been quicker than the blink of an eye, but Ranrok had matched it. They struggled, and just as it seemed that the Professor might gain the advantage, the goblin reached back with his other hand and sent a shockwave rushing towards them. They were thrown back - Odelia rolled along the hard floor until she came to a halt, lying curled on her side.
But with that blast the room had changed. It seemed as though Percival Rackham had planned for the presence of intruders. The light changed, and structures began to melt and reshape, and Odelia watched as out of them arose an enormous guardian. He held in his hand a sword long enough to sweep through a whole crowd of goblins, but Ranrok stood his ground.
She struggled to her feet as explosions rocked the room, and ran over to the Professor, still lying prone on the floor. He rose with her help, bent over and coughing.
Step up. Find a way out.
Odelia looked desperately around. There was no fighting that thing. With every blow of its sword the ground shook violently.
There. Behind you.
The archway she had come through. It flashed blue.
I can’t go back there!
Professor Fig drew his wand, preparing to join the fight.
What choice do you have?
She rushed towards it. No - it was different this time, more like a painting. A painting of a forest.
Odelia turned back - “I know a way out!” The Professor made as if to run towards her, but stopped in his tracks. Ranrok had first a blast so great that the guardian staggered back, right to where he stood. She watched in horror as it swung the sword, passing just over Professor Fig’s head - he had ducked just in time. Momentum carried that massive sword into the top of a column. It crumbled, and began to fall, right onto where Odelia stood.
“Professor!” She stretched out her arm as he ran towards her, and with the stone bearing down on them they pressed their hands onto the archway and -
-----------------------
And they were in a forest, the one Odelia saw in the painting. Professor Fig looked around, chuckling to himself. Was he insane? Perhaps he was.
She dusted herself off, hands trembling slightly. Now his attention turned to her.
“Are you all right?” He was still grinning madly.
“Fine, sir.”
“I’ve never seen so powerful a goblin. He seemed wholly unaffected by my magic!” At this point, the excitement in his eyes died down, replaced by concern.
Odelia warily watched the trees creaking in the gloom around them. “Where are we?”
The Professor furrowed his brows. “It can’t be.” But his tone was one of wonder, not apprehension.
A lamppost lit up the way in front of them, with signs pointing along the muddy tracks.
Hogwarts
“It seems those who set up the Pensieve, the locket - and the path to both - wanted someone with your ability to end up here.”
Professor Fig turned to face her, and gestured along the road. The smile had returned to his face.
“Come. We’ve a Sorting Ceremony to get to.”
And for the first time since her grandmother had ordered it, Odelia found that she truly did want to go.