All's Well That Ends Well
The room that Odelia found herself in when she opened her eyes was light and airy, with vaulted ceilings and blue curtains separating metal-framed beds which were lined up neatly against the walls. The sun streamed in through the high windows, though its position in the sky offered no clues as to what time it was. What day it was either, for that matter. Someone was asleep in the bed opposite her with the covers drawn up to their chin.
Sitting up and sliding her legs to the side, her bare feet landed on the cold stone. Time to find out where she was. The architecture looked distinctly Hogwartsian, however if it was then this was a part of the castle she had not yet set foot in. A stabbing pain shot through the side of her head and she winced.
Hang on, let’s think this through for a minute. How exactly did you end up here? And why?
She cast through her mind, looking for any memories of the previous evening. Nothing. Like standing in an empty hall, the shadows of furniture left on the carpet but not a cabinet or bookcase in sight. Wherever she was though, it felt safe.
A hushed conversation filtered through the doorway at the end of the room. Odelia got up and tiptoed along the row of beds. In spite of the good conduct which had been drilled into her from an early age, a bit of eavesdropping never did any harm.
Oooh, is that…?
Perfect. Smiling, she flattened herself against the wall which separated what was most likely the Hospital Wing from the space area outside and listened intently.
Professor Sharp spoke. “What I don’t understand is what she was doing so far from the castle at that time of night.” He had to be talking about her - her cloak folded on the table at the foot of the bed meant she must have been outside.
“Well I don’t know, Aesop.” Professor Weasley? Yes, that was indeed Professor Weasley. “She’s her fathers daughter. Surely you must remember him?” Odelia inhaled abruptly - but to that question there was no reply.
By the sound of it there was a third person there with them, only who it was remained a conundrum as they were not speaking up.
“She’s been no bother at all in my classes,” the Professor continued. “Perhaps a little fidgety at times, but we can excuse that.”
Professor Sharp cleared his throat. “Nor in mine. Her behaviour is exactly what I would expect from a Black heir.”
Here, their mysterious companion spoke up. “It just seems rather odd that they were so intent on getting to her. These weren’t your bog-standard thugs - one of them was using magic I would expect from Auror’s of the highest level. Auror’s who know precisely the impacts that such a spell could have. She’s a child! Not some threat to be tracked down and disposed of at whatever cost necessary.”
“She appears to be stronger than you give her credit for.”
There was a long, tension-filled pause. Odelia desperately wanted to see their faces, but dared not peek around the corner.
Finally, Professor Weasley interrupted them. “Well thank you, Nora, for bringing her up to the castle. I dread to think what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.”
“It was not trouble at all. Might I speak with her? If she is awake, that is.”
Without waiting to hear the Professor’s reply, Odelia sprang back across the room, tucked the covers around her and reclined on the pillows.
A woman entered the room. She was wearing a long, heavy overcoat with a matching wide-brimmed hat and practical footwear. A belt hung around her waist to which were attached several tools and pouches. Odelia eyed her with some curiosity as she came over and, conjuring a stool, sat down.
“Hello Odelia; my name is Nora Treadwell. Do you remember me at all?”
She continued to watch her and said nothing. It was difficult to tell fact from fiction - she didn’t want to give anything away.
“Last night you and I had an encounter with some Ashwinders - followers of Victor Rookwood - near Lower Hogsfield. Any this sound familiar?”
“No… not really.”
Nora Treadwell smiled kindly. “Regardless, I was very impressed - you’re a talented young witch. My wife and I are staying at the Three Broomsticks for the foreseeable future, if you happen to be in the area you should pop in for a visit. You’re a Slytherin, yes? I am working on something that may interest you.”
Odelia nodded, not sure yet whether she would be taking up this offer. The woman, however, seemed satisfied, and stood up to leave. “With some luck you might feel better soon, and I hope to see you again.
Once she was satisfied that no one was going to come in again to talk to her, Odelia raised her hands to cover her face, and took a few deep breaths. First the library and now this.
Who can you trust if you can’t even trust yourself?
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When Odelia awoke from a sleep that she had not meant to fall into, there was someone sitting by her bed. He was staring blankly at the opposite window where twilight had cast a purple tinge over the mountainous landscape beyond.
“What are you doing here?”
“I heard you were in the infirmary,” replied Ominis, turning to face her.
“How?”
He looked amused. “I hear many things. One of the advantages to being blind, you know.”
Odelia hesitated. “Does anyone else -”
“No. I didn’t say a word. I kn- I figured you wouldn’t want everyone knowing.”
“Oh, well thank you then.”
She shuffled up into a more upright sitting position, waiting for him to continue.
From the folds of his robes Ominis produced a book - it looked vaguely familiar. “I came here to give you this. You handed it to me a few days ago and I’ll admit it slipped my mind until this morning.”
Hesitating, Odelia reached for it. “I’m not sure…”
“I believe it came from the library.”
“Right…”
“The Restricted Section.”
Of course! It was all there now. How could she have forgotten about it! How could she have let it out of her sight?
“Thank you”, she said in a rush, “for keeping it safe.”
“It was no trouble,” he pronounced lightly. She still felt the need to explain.
“I’ve been made aware that there are some gaps in my memories of the past few days.”
“Odelia,” he said, more firm this time, “it was no trouble. Besides, ‘All’s Well That Ends Well’”.
She smiled, more relaxed now. “Where’s that quote from?”
“It’s the title of a muggle story. One of my favourites. A comedy - but personally I have always found it rather sad.”
“I’m surprised your family allows you to read muggle literature.”
“What they don’t know can’t hurt them. You say that as if you know my family?”
She frowned thoughtfully. “I think I did, once. Or perhaps not. It’s difficult to be sure.” Laughing suddenly, she added. “Imagine if I knew you then too!”
Just then the Matron entered, carrying a tray laden with glass vials. Ominis stood up to leave. “Yes - imagine.”
Odelia sat up straight, calling him back. “Wait! If it’s a comedy, how come you say it’s sad?”
Ominis paused, before replying. “Because, Odelia, it is a story of unrequited love. And it is always sad when you love someone who does not love you in return.”
He left the room. She leaned back, turning over his words in her mind. Ominis had meant something - she just knew it. He was far too clever to not put meaning behind the things he said.
What about that girl - Anne? He never says a word whenever Sebastian mentions her.
Yes, it had to be that. He hardly ever showed interest in talking to any of the other girls, so it couldn’t be one of them. He was intelligent, and very good looking - they would be lucky to be with him.
So then… Anne.
Odelia drew her knees up to her chest, and stared at the ceiling.
Anne.
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Nurse Blainey, quite no-nonsense in her manner, had dismissed Odelia as soon as she felt satisfied that she was not going to pass out the moment she stepped over the threshold. She hurried down the staircase, clutching the book to her chest.
If Odelia knew her uncle at all, he was sure to make any situation more inconvenient and complicated than it needed to be. And by that logic, Professor Fig was undoubtedly going to be dragged off to deal with the aftermath of the dragon attack rather than Phineas Nigellus sorting it out himself. It was a Sunday evening - the Ministry of Magic would open tomorrow morning. So the Professor would most likely be in his office sorting through what he would need to say to explain the situation.
There was no one in the Defence Against the Dark Arts Tower as she climbed the stairs to the Fifth Floor. There was no one in the Magical Theory Classroom either as she entered. But from the other end of the room, a muffled crash accompanied by some very un-teacher-like language let her know that the occupant of the office was in. Walking over, Odelia adjusted her grip on the heavy book, and knocked on the door.