The Lady of Shalott
1925
1 Taking that crazy witch and the dead wizard back to New York had been the easy part. Sending Queenie away, back home had been harder, but luckily, Queenie had understood that she’d only be making things harder for her sister if she stuck around for what came next. The moment Tina Apparated in front of the MACUSA headquarters, she and her prisoners were seized by her Auror colleagues. The unconscious witch and the dead wizard were taken away. Tina was brought to the same little grey room where, only a short while ago, she’d watched Graves interrogate Celestia Prewett.
They left her there, by herself, sitting on that uncomfortable metal chair, for a good long while. Naturally, she didn’t move. Not only did she not want to make matters worse, she also had no idea where else she was supposed to go. This profession was, for better or for worse, her life. There was nothing else she could imagine herself doing.
After what felt like countless aeons, the door was opened, and no-one other than Percival Graves stepped inside, a pained expression on his face. He sat down opposite her, steeped his fingers, blew out a heavy breath, and shook his head. “You’re lucky the President herself signed that permit, Tina. Otherwise, I’d lock you up in the same cell as Ethel Partridge…you know, the woman who poisoned you.” He briefly motioned at the black tattoo on her right wrist. “If you’d listened to me, none of this would’ve happened. Celestia Prewett wouldn’t be in the wind. Ares Malfoy wouldn’t be dead.”
Malfoy. That name sounded very familiar. Ah, yes: English Pureblood family. Very rich and prestigious. Not the kind of people who’d ever associate with someone like Tina. It wasn’t as if she felt any sympathy for them, due to the fact that this Malfoy character had tried to kill Tina and Queenie, but she still lowered her head, and said, “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Sorry for what? Hm? For disobeying my direct order? For going behind my back? For messing up my operation? For dragging your sister into this? For getting the eldest Malfoy son killed and yourself as good as? Now what the hell are you even sorry for?” He’d started to sound increasingly angry over the course of his little speech. For a moment, he just glared at her, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. Then, he inhaled deeply, ran his fingers through his dark hair, tugged at his cufflinks, and leaned back in his chair. “This is your biggest problem: you’re so convinced you’re doing the right thing that you completely ignore the fallout of your decisions until it becomes impossible to do so. Now, you’re in a possibly fatal pickle, Tina, and I wish I could say that was the worst of it. It’s not, though. All of this” – He motioned about with a brusque wave of his hand – “is bigger than any one of us.”
“At least we now know that Prewett had no intention of cooperating with us.” Tina knew that getting smart wasn’t exactly the best move right now, but it wasn’t as if she had all that much to lose. Besides, she was right about this, and he needed to realise that he was mistaken. So much depended on it – so much.
“All we know is that she evaded capture by an overzealous Auror who’s incapable of following orders,” he retorted, more weary than annoyed. “She trusted me. You’ve broken that trust and made me look like a liar in the process.” For a few seconds, he closed his eyes, presumably to keep himself from strangling his underling. When he looked at her again, he seemed more or less resigned to his fate. “The damage has been done. You might as well stay and help me clean up your mess. We need to find out what Miss Partridge knows – not only about the Grindelwald followers or the frozen heart, but also about that curse she passed on to you.”
She looked at him squarely, thin eyebrows raised. “Sir?”
He gestured for her to get up from her chair – the chair on the wrong side of the interrogation table, so to speak. “Sit here.” He pointed at the chair to his right. “She’ll be here shortly. Don’t let her provoke you. That witch has got quite the reputation, and that was before you killed her paramour.”
“No, sir.” Paramour? This dead Malfoy person romantically involved with a no pedigree Yank witch? How about that. Not that this was any of Tina’s concern right now. She did as bid. Her legs felt a bit wobbly. Was she really still allowed to work as an Auror? Never mind the whole impending death thing; she’d deal with that once it became necessary. This was good news. Up until now, she hadn't allowed herself to acknowledge that she’d been afraid to lose her job. Fear for her life would have to wait. One couldn’t burden oneself with too much all at once. Besides, fear paralysed a person and muddled coherent thoughts. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I’m only letting your insubordination slide because of the very distinct possibility that you might die a week from today.”
A week? This was worse than she’d thought. Her throat constricted. Her hands felt clammy and cold.
He said, “However, be warned: one more step out of line, and you’ll be sweeping floors in the basement – if you survive this completely unnecessary curse that you are entirely to blame for.” He leaned in just a little to add, “Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly…sir.”
That was when two Aurors accompanied the handcuffed Ethel Partridge into the room. She was a little green around the gills, not to mention dishevelled, but no worse for wear. In other words: she’d live.
The same could not be said about Tina.
Ethel was pushed into the chair non too delicately. She glowered at the two Aurors who’d handled her, and then offered Graves and Tina a sour little smile. “Nice tattoo, Goldstein.”
“Keep civilised and so will we,” Graves said, unimpressed. He was watching Ethel with an unreadable expression on his face. “Have you been crying, Miss Partridge? Should I offer you condolences for the loss of young Mister Malfoy?”
“Go screw,” Ethel said, bit her lower lip, shook her head, and snorted. After a few seconds, during which she clearly did her best to compose herself, she locked eyes with Tina again. “At least you’ll be dead meat in a week, too – only comfort for me.” She focussed on Graves. “Lock me up, hurt me, kill me. It means nothing. I ain’t gonna squawk.” She didn’t sound too enthusiastic, though, or too angry – just sort of tired, really.
“Maybe you will,” Graves said, utterly unfazed. It was virtually impossible, getting that man to lose his cool.
Tina wasn’t sure whether it was an accomplishment to be proud of the fact that she had. She only just managed to refrain from scratching her right wrist. Had it really started to itch or was she imagining things? There was a sour taste in her dry mouth. She felt a little cold.
“One thing I can tell you,” Ethel said quietly, staring at Tina as if wanting to burn a hole into her brain by sheer willpower, “the man you killed? He was worth a thousand of you – a thousand, and now he’s gone. Because of you, he’s gone.”
“You shouldn’t have tried to kill me, then,” Tina replied flatly.
“You loved him,” Graves said, drawing Ethel’s attention to himself.
It worked. She faced him. Her eyes were bloodshot and brimming with tears. She blanched. “Do you know what that’s like? To go through life believing you’re made of stone, feeling nothing…and then, out of nowhere, you see this person, this one person, and it all just shatters? And you know, just know that whatever fortress you’ve built to protect your heart, it’s gone forever because that person tore it down just by being there? It’s like a curse that comes upon you from above, and there is nothing you can do to change that.”
He offered her a subtle, wistful little smile. “I know what love is.”
Ethel sniffled. When she blinked, tears spilled down her cheeks. She chuckled humourlessly. “Yeah. Sure you do.”
Graves said, “I’ve got a deal to offer you, Miss Partridge. Since you have nothing left to lose, why not at least hear me out?”
To Tina’s surprise, Ethel deliberated for a moment and then shrugged. “Shoot, boss-man. Ain’t nothing better on the horizon, anyway.”
2 The moment Celestia allowed Petronius Flint to Apparate himself and her out of that stuffy little room and away from Nocturna, she regretted the decision – not because she had buyer’s remorse, but because she’d stabbed her own sister in the back. Then again, did she even have a choice? Like Petronius had said: Grindelwald fanatics simply couldn’t be trusted to keep their end of the bargain. Nocturna might have intended to help her sister out, first, yes – probably. However, didn’t she also believe blindly in the greater good? Was it really for the greater good to allow Celestia to risk capture as she took the damned object back to England in order to cure Alastair and his family? That didn’t make sense even to Celestia. No, if she were Nocturna or any Grindelwald acolyte, she’d snatch the thing right away from her and use it for purposes of the cause. What were a few dead witches and wizards in face of a higher, noble goal? Not much, really.
This spur-of-the-moment decision might constitute betrayal, yes, but Celestia had her own higher goal to think about. Alastair was almost out of time. He needed her. She needed him. Oh, God, how she needed him. From the moment they’d met, she’d known and understood this. It had felt like being struck by lightning, like finding the switch that set in motion a beautiful, yet terrible and cataclysmic chain of events – something completely and utterly inevitable, undeniable. It was hard to describe – perhaps even impossible. All she knew was that she needed him and much as he needed her. What was a little betrayal in the face of all that? Besides, she’d done things much more reprehensible in order to even get where she was now. It was not the time to get squeamish. Leaving her daughter behind and getting shunned by her own relatives would not be in vain. This was going to work. It just had to. It had to.
They materialised in another godforsaken American forest.
To be honest, Celestia didn’t even care where she was anymore. All she wanted was to get the frozen heart, return home, heal the love of her life, and move on from all of this. Sure, she’d never be able to return to America again, but that was a small price to pay. If only Alastair got to live, she’d pay almost any price.
“Are you all right?” Petronius said, from her right, eyeing her with obvious worry. “I didn’t splinch you, did I?”
A little dazed, Celestia looked down at herself, raised her hands to her face. “No, I’m quite all right. Thank you.” She took a deep breath of that rich, earthy, leafy forest air. Immediately, the weariness that had been dragging at her alleviated, as did her headache. It didn’t exactly go away, but it became bearable. She pushed back all guilty thoughts about turning on her sister. “Where to now, Ronny?”
He nodded, adjusted his robes, wiped his forehead, and pointed up ahead. “Through those trees, there’s a clearing. A creek flows through it. We need to follow that for a while.”
She was just starting to wonder why he wouldn’t describe the entire way to her, but told herself to knock it off. Wariness was good, paranoia overkill. “Let’s not waste any time, then.”
“Follow me.” He started marching away through the underbrush.
Without hesitating, she followed. As they laboriously trudged through undergrowth, tried not to slip on dead leaves, and tripped over treacherous roots, she wondered what had happened to Apollo and the others. They’d had the clear advantage over the one Auror – Goldstein – if one Auror really had been the entirety of their pursuers. Of course, maybe Graves had sent more people, but that wouldn’t have made much sense – not after the talk he’d had with Celestia. He wanted her to work for him, didn’t he? Getting her arrested again or even killed would be rather counterproductive to that end.
Did that mean Apollo and the others had murdered that Goldstein woman?
Celestia’s stomach panged. If that were the case, then she was also responsible for it. What was scarier: the fact that she had to admit this to herself or that she’d do it again if it brought her any closer to saving Alastair? She had no idea.
After a miserable slog through the thick, humid forest, which tore at her already filthy coat and her pinned up hair, they reached the edge of the clearing. The air was even fresher here, and the sight was lovely. A few sunbeams broke through the clouds and cast a greenish glow on tall grass, wild autumn flowers, and a merrily gurgling stream that cut through the clearing diagonally.
“Pretty, isn't it?” Petronius said, mopping sweat from his face and panting.
“Indeed.” Her breath came out in white puffs of vapour. “How much farther?”
“Not much. We follow the stream for a little bit, and it’ll be right there.” He pressed his hands to the small of his back and stretched. There was an audible pop. “Ah, better. Anyway, I suppose you know how to get back to England in time?”
She grimaced and wiped some damp strands of her ruddy hair out of her face. “The only plan I had was to sweep in undetected, get the item, and then sweep back the same way. I guess that this is no longer possible.”
“You guess correctly. Don’t be afraid, though. I can get us both back home undetected. You’ll have plenty of time to save Alastair.”
“Plenty of time? Hardly. But I’m hoping I’ll have enough.” She motioned ahead. Slowly, she was catching her breath, but pain in the side or no, there was no stopping now.
Neither Nana, nor her friends, nor Graves could locate her. Apollo had her wand; his wasn’t registered here. Before they could get the correct permit paperwork nonsense from the Ministry of Magic, she’d be long gone – and that was if the Ministry would be willing to cooperate at all. The chances of that were slim to none.
Petronius patted her shoulder. “Come on. We’re almost there. This nightmare will be over soon.”
“Hopefully.”
They set off again.
3 “Attempting to kill an Auror will get you a lifelong prison sentence,” Graves told Ethel calmly, in a tone that suggested nothing more serious than a bout of rain during an outdoor wedding. Just cast a shielding charm and you’ll be fine!
Tina told herself to stop it right there. The problem was, her wrist was itching madly by now, and she didn’t want to scratch it. Not only would that probably make it worse, it would also give this crazy woman at least some degree of satisfaction. Needless to say, that wasn’t exactly high on the list of Tina’s priorities.
“Actually killing an Auror,” Graves went on, oblivious of Tina’s internal musings, “now that’s a death sentence right there – no chance for appeal. I know you’re angry, Miss Partridge – Ethel. I know you’re out for blood and that you blame Tina here for your losses.”
Ethel made a face. “It’s hard not too, champ. She killed both my brother and the man I loved. What do I care if you fry me in that lake of poison of yours? Go ahead. At least I’ll die knowing I’m taking Goldstein with me.” She sneered at Tina.
Tina, remaining stony-faced, half-turned to address Graves. “It’s pointless, sir. Don’t waste your time with this…person. All she’ll do is try to blackmail us, and we both know we can’t buckle under that kind of pressure.”
“She won’t, and you won’t die,” he said, not taking his eyes off Ethel. “Here’s the deal: you tell me how to cure my Auror, answer all of my questions, and I will get you in protective custody instead of executed. Now, how does that sound?”
Again, Ethel surprised Tina by saying, “Not too bad. The only problem is” – She leaned in conspiratorially – “there is no cure for that curse, so I guess I’m fried anyhow.”
Tina felt even colder. Immediately, her thoughts went to Queenie. She’d be so hurt. Tina’s fear wasn’t entirely selfless. Of course she didn’t want to die. The thing was, once she had died, she’d stop caring. Queenie, however, would be all alone. That couldn’t happen. It just couldn’t.
Graves actually smiled a little. “Let me be the judge of that. Just tell me where you acquired the tattoo, the name of the” – The corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly – “artist, and pray that he or she is able to reverse the curse.”
“I don’t pray,” Ethel said, and chuckled, before she looked at Tina again. “But you should, honey; you really should.”
It was a good thing that Tina managed to stay outwardly calm – by the skin of her teeth, but she did.
Graves, however, was having none of it. “Enough. Will you cooperate with us or not?”
Ethel faced Graves again, an amused expression on her youthful face. “Under one condition, boss.” She waited, but neither of the others had anything to say. “I’ll only talk to you personally – get my day in the limelight. You understand.”
This was preposterous as well as ridiculous. There was absolutely no way that Graves would ever cave to such a petulant demand and-
“Done,” he said, without hesitation.
Tina bit down on her tongue and did her best not to just get to her feet and stomp out of there. Her wrist was starting to burn. Her time was running out.
4 Petronius had told the truth: it really wasn’t far. Celestia was just about to ask how long they’d be walking beside the merry little stream when she saw where he was leading her: through the line of trees, clearly visible, was a rather big crater at least twenty feet in diameter and ten feet deep at its centre. The whole of the crater was covered in thick veins and delicate crystals of shimmering blue ice. Cold irradiated off it in pulsating waves. In the depth of the crater was a thick lump of ice; this, however, was shining white instead of blue.
Celestia stopped dead in her tracks, drew in a shaky, painful breath, and balled her hands into fists. “Is that…”
“That’s it, safely waiting for us to fetch it and bring it home to mummy.”
Did it even matter how he’d found it? Was there any sense in being suspicious now? Now that she was close, so close to finally getting her hands on the one thing that could save Alastair’s life? This close to the deadline?
Yes. Yes, it mattered. God help her, it mattered.
With all strength she could muster, she kept from just running blindly toward the stupid thing and snatching it up. Whatever else may be true, there was also the matter of her return voyage. By herself, she couldn’t go home – at least the odds of her making it all the way to England undetected were negligible. Relying on outside help was less than ideal, but also quite unavoidable.
She focussed on the moment. “Ronny, how did you find it when nobody else did?”
For a few seconds, he said nothing. The blueish glow of the ice crater painted his face in a sickly hue. Finally, he half-turned in order to face her. “What I told you and your sister earlier is true. You can trust me, Celestia; really, you can. I’ve got a debt to pay.”
Her heart was thundering and her stomach cramping worse than ever. Her hands shook. She felt a little nauseous. “I believe that. But I haven't come this far on blind trust. Please understand.”
He nodded gravely. “I do…really. You want to know how I found it? Come with me.” When she hesitated, he pulled up one corner of his mouth in a lopsided, wry little smirk. “It’s all right. It’s on our way.” He led her toward the crater and pointed at a little ways to his right. “You see that pile of dead leaves and branches?”
She did.
Deliberately slowly, he pulled his wand out of his coat pocket, waved it once, and forced the cover of dead foliage away. There was…
…oh. It was body. A dead man. A man who’d been dead for what? A couple of days? Close to that.
Celestia pressed her lips together and stared at the corpse of this dead wizard: a tall, slender white man of perhaps fifty, blue eyes wide, wand still firmly in his gnawed-on hand. For goodness’s sake. “This…I, uh…I assume this was the actual contact?”
He nodded. “Yes. I tracked him down based on Scamander’s letters, based on what the scuttlebutt among Grindelwald fanatics was, and on general common sense.”
“Why did you kill him?” The words came out in a dejected whisper. She just couldn’t take her eyes off that dead body. Dead. This had been a human being. Now, it was just a piece of rotting meat. Her stomach roiled.
“Because he was gonna sell you out to the authorities, the little weasel.” His broad, pleasant face became a mask of hatred and contempt. “Can’t trust these types. They’d sell out their own mothers if there was profit in that.”
“You know that for sure because…”
“Because I made him tell me. Does it matter?”
At last, she managed to drag her eyes away from the dead wizard and made herself face Petronius, who was staring at her in such a pleading manner, it was admittedly a little scary. “Not really.” She discreetly cleared her throat. There was a knot in there that just didn’t want to go away. The air was really cold here. Her whole body tensed up. Her skin pebbled with gooseflesh. Shivers ran down her back. Her teeth gnashed together seemingly without her approval.
“I can’t let Alastair die any more than you can. You’ve got to believe this!” He reached out, presumably to grab her by the shoulders, but then luckily reconsidered and let his hands sink again. “Please, Celestia. Let’s just get this wretched thing and save him. We don’t have any time to waste.”
She thought of the day she had broken up with Alastair because her family had all but sold her hand in marriage for a political favour. She thought of her ill-conceived time with Apollo. She thought of her daughter, that tiny pink baby in her arms. She thought of her diminishing will to live, despite having a little girl to be there for. She thought of her decision to go back to the man she loved. Oh, how she missed his smile, his voice, his stupid jokes, his arms around her. There was no going back. There was no time for regrets. Right now, all she could do was take a leap of faith.
“All right, then,” she said, her voice firm and clear. “Let’s go get the frozen heart and save the Fawleys.”