Chapter 14 – Out of the frying pan by Maeryn Lamonte – Copyright © 2021
	I rewrote the end of the conversation between Lori and Neville in chapter 12. I’d already rewritten the encounter with McGonagall where she mentioned evidence of a house elf from outside Hogwarts being involved, but I didn’t do the same for the Longbottom conversation and it didn’t fit quite right.

-oOo-
Lori spun around, looking for the source of the voice. She’d checked every room on entering and she’d been certain this one had been as empty as the rest.

“You surprise me. I’d have thought you knew all about invisibility cloaks.” There was a shifting in the air and a man appeared. Dark hair, glasses, scar.

“Uncle Harry?” She forgot everything else and ran at him, throwing her arms around his middle. His arms settled around her and for a long moment they shared a much-needed embrace.

Much needed by Lori in any case. Who could say what Uncle Harry needed?

“Where is everyone?” she asked.

“Never mind that,” he said. “What are you doing here? How did you get here?”

“I’m not sure I can say.”

“Well, you’re going to have to say something. Professor McGonagall is going to want to know what one of her students is doing this far from Hogwarts.”

Lori pushed away from her uncle and said nothing.

“Lorcan…”

“Lori.”

“Lori then. You have to tell me something.”

Lori pulled out the note and read it. ‘If you tell anyone about what you’re doing...’ it said. Showing wasn’t the same as telling though, was it? She handed the lilac letter across.

Harry read it, turned it over, reread it.

“Okay, that answers most of my questions, but it raises a few more. You know you can’t give them the Bloodstone, don’t you? It’s too powerful.”

“But if I don’t I’ll never see Mum and Dad again.”

“You asked where everyone was, Lori, so let me tell you. Earlier today we started receiving reports of witches and wizards throughout the ministry falling asleep. Some slumping over their desks, others collapsing in the corridors, one or two fell into the fountain.”

“Were they from half-blood and non-wizarding families?”

“As it happens, they were. We didn’t ask that question immediately though; there are a lot of things that could have been the cause and we have procedures. Minister Shacklebolt called for an immediate evacuation, so most of the day was taken up with that, plus transporting the afflicted to St Mungo’s. They’re not really set up for such a sudden influx of patients, so it took quite a lot of organising to make sure they were all taken care of. Eventually one of the Healers wondered if there might be a link with what happened at Hogwarts and decided to try the cure they had developed for your friends. When it worked, giving us our first real clue as to the cause, I came back here with a small team of full-blood aurors to see what was going on.

“We examined the stone casket with the Bloodstone in it, and we found a few drops of blood on the stone as well as some grains of sand inside the lid. Not enough to be noticed unless you were looking for it, but just sufficient to allow a fine and all but invisible mist to escape.”

“How…?”

“We think It’s likely that at least one member of the Order of Purity — I think that’s what you called them wasn’t it? — works here in the ministry and managed to gain access to the stone.”

“But why…?”

“Our best guess is they planned to steal the stone back, so I instructed the rest of the team to leave so I could stay behind hidden under my cloak. You’re very much the last person I expect to be the thief, though this note goes a long way to explaining your actions.

“It does raise another question though. The Ministry’s in lock down, so how did you get in?”

“The phone box said dial zero for the operator, so I did.”

“And?”

“There was a voice. A woman. She asked me for my name, so I told her I was Lye. I mean they sent the letter to him, so it seemed…”

“Yes, that much makes sense, but dialling the operator shouldn’t have worked, not with the place evacuated. What did this woman sound like?”

“I don’t know. She was very quiet and all she said was, ‘Name.’ I told her and a few seconds later the floor started dropping.”

“That could only have been done from within the Ministry, which means there’s still someone here.”

“What do we do?”

Harry looked at the youngster in front of him. Even in Lysander’s clothes, Lori looked so different from either of the boys he remembered. There was a vulnerability about him? Her? He thought of Professor McGonagall’s reports, and had to admit she had a point, Lori was definitely more a girl than a boy. Harry was going to have to come to terms with the idea that he had a niece in Lori. Not a blood relation of course – he had no family ties with either Luna or Rolph – but he'd always considered the bonds of friendship to be far stronger than those of family.

“What do we do?” he mused. He couldn’t afford to leave his post, especially if there was a traitor in the Ministry, which seriously limited his options. Lori had been through so much already though, and it hardly seemed fair to ask more of her, no matter how intent she was to try. It was a struggle sometimes to remember that he’d been the same age when he’d first faced Voldemort. He hadn’t asked for the Dark Lord’s attention any more than Lori had asked for her parents to be kidnapped. However, once you were involved, you were involved, and age was no excuse for doing nothing. Besides, he’d been far from helpless back then, and the same was true of Lori right now.

What could he ask her to do though? The Bloodstone was too dangerous for him to let her have it, but at the same time he couldn’t send her back to Hogwarts empty handed.

“Hermione told me once, if you’re confronted with two unacceptable choices, the best thing you can do is look for a third option and choose that.”

“What do you mean a third option?”

“I don’t know yet. Do you have any idea where your brother is?”

“No, but I think I could find him.”

“Patronum invenire? Professor McGonagall mentioned how you’ve been dabbling with advanced magic. I have to tell you how impressed I am. I didn’t cast my first Patronus until my third year and I remember how hard it was to do then. I’m not sure it’s such a good idea though.”

“Why not?”

“The Professor also mentioned something about how your last spell affected you.”

“Yeah, but she only told me not to cast magic on myself.”

“After what happened in the forest, every spell you cast is going to have some unexpected results.”

“Are you telling me not to use magic at all then? This is my family we’re talking about.”

“I know, and no I’m not telling you not to do so. Just that you need to be aware how dangerous it is for you to use magic right now.”

“Would it have stopped you?”

“That’s different…”

“How?”

“Actually you’re right, it’s not. All right, how does this sound for a third option? You use your Patronus to find your brother and help him to free your parents.”

“But there’s no guarantees Lysander’s found Mum and Dad. All he’s done is follow the owl that brought him the message and there’s no way of knowing where it was going.”

“You could use your Patronus to find your parents directly.”

“Don’t you think their kidnapers would have thought about that? I mean aren’t there ways of hiding things so even a Patronus can’t find them?”

“I guess so. Fine, so what would your third option be?”

“What's Latin for cut?”

“Cut? What do you mean?”

“You know, like when you cut your finger?”

“Er, I don’t really know. Latin’s not my strong suit.”

“It’s lacerationis,” A voice said from the fireplace.

“Hermione! You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I’m fine, Harry. You should listen to Lori. She’s really quite clever.”

“How long have you been listening?”

“Long enough. Harry it should be you casting the Patronus.”

It was too late though.

“Expecto patronum.” Lori waved her wand. “Arresto patronum.”

“Wow!” said Hermione’s flaming head.

“Yeah, wow!” Harry agreed.

Even Lori stood dumbstruck. The ghostly white shape of her Patronus had changed.

Still a unicorn, at least for the most part. It stood a good foot taller than the first time she’d cast it, so much so that if it hadn’t kept its head lowered, it would have been impossible to see the horn on its forehead. That wasn’t all though. The creature sported two massive, fiery wings — still spectral white like the rest of the apparition’s body, but with feathers of flame.

“How…?” she said. “That’s a combination of Lysander’s Patronus and mine. How can it be here when he isn’t?”

“I think you’ll find that’s your Patronus now, Lori,” Hermione said from the fireplace. “You’ve been through quite a lot recently; it doesn’t surprise me that it’s changed form.”

“Yeah, but why this form?”

“It’s like your uncle says. You have to be careful right now. Unpredictable things are going to happen whenever you cast a spell.”

“What, like this?” She took a stance and incanted, “Patronum invenire lacerationis.”

The great creature unfurled its wings and leapt almost straight up through the ceiling.

“How’s that going to help?” Harry asked.

“Who do you know might have recently cut their finger?” Hermione chipped in from the fireplace. “You know, maybe to drip blood on the Bloodstone?”

Harry said something unrepeatable and ran out of the room.

Leaving Lori with a window of opportunity. The Order weren’t going to settle for anything less than the Bloodstone and casket and they weren’t stupid enough to be fooled by any fake she could put together. She understood what Uncle Harry meant about it being too dangerous to let the Order have it, but that didn’t mean she should just leave her parents to their fate. There was a third option, and she was beginning to see it. She grabbed the casket and hurried from the room.

She couldn’t just leave though. She felt a compulsion to follow her Patronus and sensed where it was several floors above her. A few judicious squeezes of her pendant guided her through the rooms of the Department of Mysterious Artefacts and through the maze of corridors outside to the bank of lifts. She shut herself into one and pressed for the top floor.

Back out in the vastness of the atrium, she turned towards a collection of offices on the far side of the ruined fountain. She could hear sounds of duelling which ended with her uncle’s familiar cry of, “Expeliarmus!” She ran across and into a room where her Patronus stood patiently over a cowering witch, her wand lying broken on the floor out of her reach, one of her hands wrapped in a handkerchief. Harry stood panting slightly with a look of fierce gratification in his face. The Patronus faded as Lori arrived and Harry turned towards her.

“Lori, I’d like you to meet Pansy Parkinson. We were at school together. Unless I miss my guess, this is who let you into the Ministry.”

Lori turned to the witch who glowered back at her. “Where are my mum and dad?” she asked.

“Do what you’re supposed to and you’ll find out,” she replied.

“You’d better not have hurt them, or else…”

“Or else what? Just what do you think you can do?”

“Shut-up,” Harry shouted at his prisoner, then he looked across at Lori, rather pointedly resting his gaze on the prominent bulge under her cloak.

Lori lifted her chin defiantly. “Third option,” she said.

Harry looked uncertain for a moment then made up his mind. “I suppose you’d better be getting back to Hogwarts then. You don’t have much time.”

Lori’s defiant look melted into a smile.

Harry grinned wryly in return. “I’d tell you to be careful, but that’s not always the best way. Just don’t put me in a position of having to explain to your parents what happened to you.”

“Thanks Uncle Harry. I won’t.” She turned and ran for the elevator she’d used on arriving, retrieving her earring from the plant pot as she passed it.

The thestral stood patiently, turned its head towards her as she emerged from the telephone box.

“Thank you so much for waiting,” she said to it, still not entirely sure how much it understood. She climbed onto its back and settled herself. “I’m afraid I have something big to ask of you; I’m not even sure if it's possible. I need to be back at Hogwarts by midnight at the top of the astronomy toooowweeer…” The last word stretched out as the eerie creature leapt into the sky far more violently than before and turned northwards, streaking across the rooftops at breakneck speed even as it climbed.

The wind was stronger this time and bitter cold, growing colder still as they headed north. With the lights of London behind them and the Moon not yet risen, Lori found herself truly in the dark. She couldn’t judge distances, but it seemed the rare village and town they passed disappeared behind them far more rapidly. The thestral’s wing-strokes felt stronger, faster. Lori could only hope the increase in speed would be enough. She clung on tight, both to the creature’s neck and to her prize, nestled safely inside her cloak.

Some time later, but so much quicker than their outward journey, the familiar terrain around Hogwarts came into view. The hills, the lake, the forest, Hogsmeade, the ruin of the castle which, as they dived down towards it, shimmered and turned whole. The thestral wasn’t making for its forest home, but for the tallest spire ahead. Seconds later immense wings stretched out like parachutes, arresting their speed and bringing them in for a gentle landing in a clear space atop the tower.

Lori jumped down and gave the bony neck a hug — of gratitude this time. “You have been so amazing. Thank you, I shouldn’t ask anything more of you, but I have to. At midnight someone’s going to fly past on a broom and I’m going to have to give them this. I need to follow them, but you’ve done so much, I can’t ask any more.”

The thestral shook its head and stood back a step or two.

“Perhaps, when you go back to your clearing in the forest, you could ask one of your friends to come up and offer me a ride. It’s really important. If I don’t do this, the mist could come back, and I don’t like to think what might happen to my parents.”

The thestral shook its head once more and looked towards the clock tower, which gave a distinctive click and started to ring out the hour.

“Oh!” Lori exclaimed. She pulled out the casket and looked around her.

A shape moved in the darkness, black moving against black. She watched it as it grew and took the form of a witch on a broomstick. “Hold it up,” a voice called to her, and Lori complied.

The broom whizzed past. A hand reached out and grabbed the box. The shape disappeared into the dark.

“What about my parents?” Lori called after it, receiving little more than a cackle in response. “Okay,” she muttered to herself. “Lye was right not to trust you. Let’s see how much you trust me. Option three, here we go.” She turned to the thestral. “I need to ask you to carry me once more if you’d be so kind. I’ll totally understand if you’re too exhausted after that flight we just made, but if you could at least take me as far as your clearing so I can find another mount...”

The creature looked at her reproachfully and nudged her to mount. The moment Lori climbed up, it leapt into the air and turned in the direction the witch had gone, beating its powerful wings with renewed vigour. Lori took a moment to find her balance before squeezing her pendant. “Slow down a little,” she said into her mount’s ear. “She’s about a hundred yards ahead and we don’t want her to know we’re following. She just started a gentle turn to the right.”

The thestral responded to Lori’s directions and they settled down to follow. Whatever broom the witch was using, it was a fast one, yet no challenge for them to keep up, which was a relief on two accounts. In the first, she did not want her brave companion to overexert itself after having done so much for her already. In the second, she was already chilled to the bone from the night’s travel and the more sedate pace meant she wasn’t going to freeze quite so quickly.

Lori squeezed her pendant every few minutes, the finding charm in it giving her a sense of distance and direction to the one still hidden under the velvet cushion in the casket. When their quarry changed direction — which she did often — the young girl gave instructions to her mount and so they maintained a more or less constant distance. Their flight took them to the south and a little west and lasted a couple of hours, the night turning colder with each passing minute. Lori found herself glad of the days she’d spent confined to her bed. Tired as she was, the extended rest meant she had reserves she would not have possessed otherwise. Constantly checking and readjusting their course kept her mind sufficiently occupied to distract her from the fatigue and the chill.

About halfway through the flight, the Moon climbed into the sky. Half-moon tending to waning crescent, Professor Sinistra would have called it. From Lori’s point of view, it provided enough light for them to catch an occasional glimpse of the witch ahead of them. That of course meant that she might as easily spot them too, should she happen to glance back, so as a precaution, Lori asked her mount to drop lower and give her a little more of a lead. The finding charm on her earrings wasn’t noticeably affected by the increased distance, and the lower altitude placed their target above the horizon where she was more visible.

At long last, the broom ahead of them veered to the right and entered a gently descent. The thestral changed direction without needing to be told while Lori looked ahead of the witch’s new course to find a solitary light shining from the top of a hill. As they approached, it separated out into about a dozen or more lit windows.

The house stood out clearly in the moonlight and might once have been the family home to a minor lord or baron. The building was large and opulent with grounds extending for over a half mile in all directions. Lori indicated a stand of trees just beyond the near wall, and the thestral brought them in for a gentle landing just beside them, furling its large leathery wings the moment its feet were on the ground.

Lori dismounted, stumbling with the stiffness in her limbs, and squeezed her pendant, more for comfort than any real need. The magical response guided her eyes to follow the witch swooping down ahead of them and settling in front of the mansion. Between the distance and the dark it was hard to make out much detail until a slender shaft of light split the building three quarters of the way up to the eaves.

For a few brief seconds, the light from inside the house illuminated columns either side of two extravagantly tall doors. It showed broad steps leading up to the doorway and two figures — one, the tall, slender figure of the witch, the other far shorter, not quite human, slightly stooped. The witch stepped inside, the door closed and they were gone.

Lori dug in her pocket and pulled out the last few scraps of meat which she offered to her companion. “That’s all I have right now, I’m afraid,” she told it, “but I promise I’ll bring you more after we get back to Hogwarts. Will you be all right to wait here? I’ll come and find you as soon as I can.”

The vaguely horse shaped head bobbed in acknowledgement and Lori made her way cautiously across the grounds towards the building. Here again, her cunning plan began to look a little ragged around the edges. She’d figured out how to get here easily enough, but with that achieved, problems now assailed her from all sides. Had her brother made it here? Were her parents being held in the building or somewhere nearby, and how could she find them and set them free? By no means least, how could she steal the Bloodstone back from this band of psychopaths before they used it to bring more misery? Uncle Harry’s help would be invaluable right about now, but he probably had his hands full locking away that Pansy Parkinson.

She’d spent most of the journey trying to come up with a strategy or two and hadn’t made much progress. When you didn’t know what you were about to face it was hard to make plans. She’d counted the sum total of her assets as the jewellery her brother had given her, the spells she’d learned so far at Hogwarts, her capacity to produce a powerful Patronus — not insignificant, but not exactly a stealth move — and hopefully, assuming she could find them and free them, her parents. Her mother especially was no stranger to a fight, even if she hadn’t lifted a wand in anger since before Lori and her brother had been born.

Lori approached the house cautiously. The Moon cast deep shadows making it relatively easy to remain undetected, though what was true for her would inevitably be as true for any sentinels in the grounds. Close to, the place seemed considerably more formidable. The steps up to the front door put the level of the ground floor a good five or six feet above the surrounding gardens, which would mean an exposed climb to reach any window, should she wish to either look in or break in, and it was massive! She guessed it would take half an hour to skirt around the outside looking for some alternative to the front door, and she wasn’t sure if she had that much time now that the Bloodstone was here.

She was about to make a move up to the front door to see if it would reveal any clues when she sensed a presence behind her and spun around to find Lysander standing close behind with his finger to his lips. She threw her arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug, which he endured with good enough grace for a few seconds before pulling back. He pointed toward the right-hand corner of the house and led her through the shadows around to the side where a flight of steps hugged the wall, descending to a small door.

Which was locked, though a quick flourish of a wand and a whispered ‘alohomora’ solved that problem. Lori reached for the handle, but her brother held out a restraining hand.

“You know, I’ve often wondered why they teach us that spell in the first year,” he said.

“So we can better satisfy our curiosity?”

“You know what curiosity killed?”

“Never seen that many dead cats…”

“…but then they do have nine lives. Lori, that spell gets us past Muggle locks.”

“Yeah?”

“This is a wizard’s house.”

Lori stopped reaching for the door handle. “I guess there is a reason why you’re in Ravenclaw and I’m not. What do you think…?”

“House elves would be my guess. Their magic’s different from ours so it’s almost impossible to defend against.”

“I take it you haven’t been inside the house then?”

“I only just arrived.”

“What?”

“I, er, I lost sight of the owl. “

“...”

“Give me break. They’re kind of small when you’re following a hundred yards behind. I managed to keep it in sight while I had it silhouetted against the sky, but when we reached this area, it dived down and disappeared against the undergrowth. They are pretty well camouflaged.”

“I thought it was carrying a letter.”

“Yeah, a scrap of parchment in its beak. Didn’t stand out much.”

“So, what did you do?”

“Well, I circled for about half an hour before giving up, then I settled on the highest hill I could find. About a mile that way.” He pointed away from the house. “I figured that when the owl dived down, that must mean it was back in its territory, which meant I had to be close. Then the sun went down, and everything went dark. I pretty much lost hope at that point.”

“Couldn’t you see the lights from the house?”

“Not from that direction. No windows this side.” Lye pointed up at the blank wall to make his point.

“So, then what?”

“I thought about scouting around, but I was afraid I’d lose my vantage point in the dark, so I waited. Eventually the moon rose, and I decided to give it a bit of time to rise high enough to see by. I was still waiting when that witch turned up on her broomstick with you following close behind. I joined the line and followed, left my thestral with yours and came after you.

“So, what do you think we should do now?” He ended his tale.

“Well one of us needs to go for help. I vote you, since you’ve spent the last few hours resting while I’ve been freezing my buns off.”

“That seems… fair, but get help from where?”

“Well, Uncle Harry's at the Ministry in London.”

“Which has to be at least a couple of hours away. Isn’t there anywhere closer?”

“I’m open to suggestions.”

Lysander thought for a moment. “Where do you think we are?” he asked eventually.

“I don’t know. The Peak District maybe?”

“That’s what I figure, which means we’re surrounded by cities. Do you remember when we came here on holiday and Dad showed us that Muggle map?”

Lori shrugged.

“No, you probably wouldn’t. I seem to remember you having one of your sulky days. Look, if we are in the Peak District then we have Manchester to the Northwest,” he lined up with the Moon and pointed, “Nottingham and Derby to the South East, Sheffield to the East, Leeds to the North East…”

“Leeds?”

“That’s right! Your girlfriend comes from Leeds, doesn’t she?”

Lori let it slide. Besides, after Anneka’s visit to the infirmary her brother might well be right about the current state of her relationship with her dorm-mate.

“The trouble is finding them. I mean Leeds is a big place.”

“Anni said her family come from a place called Headingley. It’s a suburb to the Northwest of the city.”

“That narrows it down, but not by much.”

“They have sports fields in Headingley. Two stadiums side by side. One’s a rectangular, er…” Lori snapped her fingers trying to remember, “yeah, rugby pitch, and just to the North is a, er, critic pitch?”

“Cricket,” Lye corrected her.

“Okay Mr Muggle Sports Expert, I guess that means you’ll know a cryptic pitch when you see it. Just North of the sports fields is a church called Cornerstone something or other — it’ll be bigger than the surrounding houses. If you take the road that goes past the church until it bends to the left, you’ll find Ash Gardens on your right. You’re looking for a house with a freshly painted yellow door, and you remember what Anneka’s dad’s car looks like, don’t you?”

“You seem to know the way pretty well. Maybe you should go.”

“I’ve never been. Those are the directions Anni gave me, which means you now know how to find them about as well as me. In fact, you should be able to find it easier since I’ve no idea what a crick-tic pitch looks like…”

“A cricket pitch,” Lye emphasised the word his sister insisted on getting wrong, “looks a bit like a Quidditch pitch but without the hoops.”

“Okay, fine, but that still doesn’t mean I’ll be able to find it any quicker than you. You need to find Myrtle Peasbottom.’”

“Anneka’s mother? That’s… brilliant. She’s a witch, which means…”

“…even if she’s not on the floo network herself, she’s bound to know someone who is.”

“Which means I’ll be able to get through to the Ministry and tell Uncle Harry, then bring him back here.”

“With as many aurors as he can find. Make sure they’re pure blood so they’re immune to the mist.” She fished her earring out of a pocket an handed it over. “That’ll help you find your way back, but you may want to pick out a few landmarks for security. The Moon’s up so you should be able to see well enough to find your way.”

“What are you going to do while I’m away?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure I’ll think of something.” Lori fingered her necklace absent mindedly.

“No, Lori, that’s too dangerous. I’m not going to let you.”

“Too late.” She smiled at him a little sadly, closed her eyes and focused on an image. “My brother is most assuredly the best.”

A vague plan had formed while she’d been talking to Lysander. Her priority was to get into the house and try to free her parents. If she couldn’t do that without being seen, then her best chance was to look like someone who belonged. Given the limitations on the charm, that left her with only one choice. Her surroundings altered subtly as her form shifted.

“Why him?” Lysander asked, his face twisting with distaste.

“He’s the only person my size who I know is mixed up in this thing.” She was aware of a slight booming quality as she now spoke with Raphael’s voice. As with when she’d taken Morgana’s form, the voice wasn’t quite the same inside her head as outside.

“And exactly when did you see him in his PJs?”

“The evening of the day I spent as Morgana… Oh come on, you know it wasn’t like that! Euw! No, I hid outside Slytherin waiting for him to sneak out. McGonagall was there too and caught him. I guess he felt he could get away with anything with his new invisibility cloak.

“Look, we’re wasting time. Just one more thing, give me your wand.”

“Why?”

“Dad’s more likely to need it than you.”

“You’re right.” Lysander sighed and handed it over. “Just be careful. I don’t want to have to explain to Mum and Dad why I let you do this.”

“Uncle Harry said the same. I’ll do my best but be quick and you’re less likely to have to.”

Lysander turned and ran off into the night. Lori didn’t waste any more time and pushed her way through the door.

“Master Raphael?”

The voice came from a small figure in the far corner. It held notes of suspicion and confusion.

Lori moved towards it until she could make out the diminutive form, clad in an old sack cloth, luminous eyes looked up at her.

“My dad told me to check on the prisoners,” she commanded.

“Is master sure?”

“Does master seem sure?”

She tried for intimidating and must have managed it because the house elf flinched, then held up its hand and clicked its fingers.

Instantly they were somewhere else. A bowl-shaped depression with rising ground all around them. A faint mist surrounded them, turned luminous by the moonlight and thickening overhead into a bank of cloud that obscured the stars. Dark shapes loomed within the cloud, casting sinister silhouettes that drifted slowly about the depression. The place was damp and chilly and all the more dismal for the presence of the soul-sucking creatures in the dimness above her.

A rough circle of sturdy wooden posts had been driven into the ground, each separated from its neighbour by a gap of ten feet and fitted with a steel cap from which hung thick steel chains. Only two of the posts were occupied. Her mother sat awkwardly at the foot of hers, her arms pulled cruelly upwards. Her father remained on his feet but looked just as exhausted.

“What do you want?” Her father growled.

Lori winced inwardly at her parents’ condition, but she had to be strong. She strode over to him and poked him heavily in the stomach. She couldn’t afford to be gentle, but she was that much smaller than her father, even in Raph’s form, that slapping him would have been awkward.

“Shut-up!” she yelled at him. She didn’t want to rouse the suspicion of the elf behind her, and she wasn’t at all sure how sensitive those large, floppy ears might be. Keeping her back to the small creature, she pulled out Lye’s wand and showed it to her father then, making a show of examining his bindings, she slid it into his sleeve.

Next, she went to her mother, crouching to examine her. Luna turned an exhausted face towards her, looking confused as Lori pulled out her own wand and showed it to her. Comprehension dawned in her eyes while Lori stood to check her mother’s binding. As she had done with her dad, she tried to pass her wand across, but her mum had other ideas.

She lunged forward, causing Lori to take a step back. “You stay away from me, you pig!” she spat. Her face and her voice seethed with rage, but her eyes stared intently, and her head shook an almost imperceptible no.

Even if Lori hadn’t understood, the opportunity to do anything had slipped by. She slipped her wand back into the pocket of the dressing gown her illusory self was wearing and risked the faintest of smiles before turning back to the house elf. “Back to the house,” she snapped and the two of them vanished with a click of small, bony fingers.

“Does master believe that Cringe would not secure the prisoners well enough? Cringe would never…”

“Don’t question my dad, Cringe,” Lori interrupted. The small creature lived up to its name, and Lori couldn’t leave it there. “He said he needed to be sure they were secure.”

“But of course they were secure. Cringe would never…”

“Look, I’m just doing what my father told me. Now shut-up before I go looking for an old sock to give you.”

“No master, please.” Cringe fell to his knees.

Lori took the opportunity to squeeze her pendant and sensed from it the approximate location of the Bloodstone, upstairs and at the opposite end of the house. There was a doorway over on that side of the basement which she guessed had to go up into the house.

“Know your place, Cringe, if you want to keep it.” She didn’t wait for a response but strode across to the door. The poor creature was miserable enough and it made her sick to her stomach to show it any amount of cruelty. She had to get away from it.

Besides, she guessed she’d used up a good five minutes of her charm and needed to move if she was going to do anything else useful before the necklace’s magic ran out. She’d already achieved as much as she’d hoped but hadn’t expected her parents to be held prisoner outside the house. From stories her mother had told them about Dobby, a house elf could apparrate across immense distances with considerable ease, which meant her parents weren’t necessarily close to the house. They now had the means to escape, but chances were good they wouldn’t be able to help take back the stone and casket, which left it up to her and the few minutes remaining on the charm.

The door opened onto a narrow flight of stairs — as she’d hoped it would — that led up to an inconspicuous entrance in the corner of a large hallway, dominated by a wide, sweeping staircase on Lori’s right. To her left, she recognised the mansion’s tall, double front door.

Open double doorways on either side of the entrance hall led through to wide corridors giving access to the two wings of the house. Lori crossed to the opposite side, the sense of her earring’s location still clear in her mind. Behind the second door on the left. She listened for a moment then opened it quietly.

It was a large room, devoid of furniture apart from a small central table which held the stone casket and a lectern to the right of the door with a large, tattered tome sitting on it. The open page showed an insane jumble of sketches and scribbled notes.

“Raphael? What are you doing up?”

Lori spun on the spot to find a tall witch standing directly behind her. The voice was very much like the one she’d heard at the top of the astronomy tower, and there was something about her face that reminded her of Raphael. Her eyes perhaps? She was dressed very differently now in a long, elegant dress, her hair falling down past her shoulder in waves. Her body possessed the natural grace of an athlete, and her face the alabaster perfection of a marble statue. What she lacked was emotion.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Lori stuttered nervously. “I wanted to see…”

“Now’s not the time, sweetheart.” The witch smiled, but there was a coldness to her eyes which countered any comfort there might have been in the gesture, or the words. “No-one goes in now until The Order has assembled.”

“When…”

“It’ll be a few hours at least, dear, probably not till morning. I only just confirmed with everyone that we have reclaimed the Bloodstone, and your father has already indicated that he’s likely to be delayed. Now, back to bed with you and no more questions.” She grasped Lori’s arm lightly and led her back in the direction of the hallway and the stairs.

She could have resisted, but the witch seemed to expect compliance. Lori didn’t want to do anything to raise suspicions, so she allowed herself to be led up the stairs and down to the left to a room that stood more or less directly above where she had just been. As they approached it, it occurred to Lori just what was almost certainly waiting for them on the other side of the door. She swallowed down her panic and allowed her instincts to guide her.

“You don’t have to tuck me in, mother. I’m not a child anymore.”

“As you wish, darling.” There was that same shallow, emotionless smile. “But don’t let me catch you out of bed again until I call for you, or there will be… consequences.” She turned and sauntered back down the corridor without so much as a backward glance. Lori found herself feeling sorry for Raphael, if only very slightly.

She let herself into the room, which was dominated by a large four poster bed. As expected, it was occupied. Lori tip-toed over and, having satisfied herself that the occupant was indeed her would be nemesis, she drew her wand.

“Petrificus totalus,” she whispered with a brief flourish of her wand-hand.

Raphael’s eyes flew open and grew wide as he became aware of his predicament.

The immediate problem dealt with, Lori looked around at the rest of the room. The usual bedroom furniture lined the walls — largely antiques in immaculate condition. The top drawer of a chest of drawers provided her with a pair of socks and a large armoire next to it furnished her with a selection of belts and a silk cravat.

The rigidity of Raphael’s body made it difficult but not impossible for Lori to pry his mouth open and insert a sock, which she then tied in place with the cravat. She rolled his body over and eased his arms back until they were close enough together for her to secure with a belt. Legs similarly tied off at knee and ankle, he wouldn’t be going anywhere, even after her petrificus charm wore off.

Speaking of charms, she was certain the one on her necklace had just about run out of time. She didn’t particularly want it to, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. As Lye had said, it was a cheap charm and she’d been lucky it had lasted this long.

A fire crackled quietly in a small fireplace, dying by degrees and offering only a small amount of warmth. Lori moved near to it and settled onto a stool in front of a dressing table. It was an odd piece of furniture to find in a boy’s room, but she didn’t give it much thought. She gazed at her reflection, trying not to dislike the face that stared back. She made an effort to overcome the natural sneer that settled about the mouth and saw something of Raphael’s mother’s beauty staring back at her.

She sensed a change. So subtle she probably wouldn’t have noticed had she not been sitting quietly. It started off as a tautness in her skin, as though it had been stretched out of shape and was seeking to spring back. Then she felt a gentle trickle of power from somewhere deep inside her and the tautness eased.

On a whim, she removed her necklace and placed it on the dressing table. The face in the mirror remained unchanged, although her clothes reverted to Lysander’s uniform.

She wasn’t sure what it meant or how it had happened, but somehow she had a reprieve. She suspected whatever had brought it would also bring trouble enough into her future, but for now she could continue masquerading as Raphael.

She’d have to do something about the clothes though. There was nothing wrong with Lysander’s uniform, except that it wasn’t anything Raphael Maledicta would be caught dead wearing.

Raphael had started struggling as Lori’s spell faded. Still stiff limbed and constrained by his bonds, all he managed was to shuffle his position until he was facing her.

“Hey Raph,” Lori attempted to match the habitual contemptuous smirk of her adversary. “You don’t mind me borrowing your face for a while, do you?”

Raph’s expression was complex, but overall it seemed he did mind, very much.

“I’ll need to change these clothes though, won’t I? I hope you don’t mind. Shall we see what’s in here?”

She wandered over to the chest of drawers. She’d already raided the top drawer for the sock keeping her prisoner quiet. The second one down was filled with silken boxers in varying shades of grey and white.

“These must be comfy,” she comment, stroking the smooth material. “Not overly imaginative when it comes to colour though, are we?”

The third and bottom drawer held several pyjama sets — also silken and also in shades of grey, though darker.

“I guess I could make use of these,” she said lifting out a set that more or less matched the colour her imagination had conjured for her. Raph struggled against his bonds, his eyes intense with rage. “Maybe we should have a bit more of a look around before we make up our mind though. Let’s see, two wardrobes? Who needs two wardrobes?”

She pulled open the first where she’d found the belts and cravat. It wasn’t overly filled with clothes, but there was a decent selection. One half held mainly suits and shirts — quality stuff: Bespoke tailoring, no question there, and high-end materials. The other contained a good mix of designer jeans and sweatshirts, all of which she knew would look good on Maledicta’s body. It wasn’t her style though. The thought of putting on any of Raph’s clothing — even the silken pyjamas — brought on the same sense of a burden she’d carried around all her life as Lorcan. She didn’t remember feeling the same when she’d put on her brother’s uniform, but her mind had been occupied with other cares at the time.

“No invisibility cloak,” she mused. “Maybe your father doesn’t trust you to look after it after you lost it a couple of times.”

She closed the one wardrobe and turned to the other, which turned out to be locked.

“What does Raphy Waphy have locked away in here that he doesn’t want anyone to see?” Lori’s face took on the supercilious sneer she’d seen Raphael use so often. Raph, meanwhile struggled more violently but just as ineffectually against his bonds.

“Alohomora,” Lori flourished her wand. The lock snicked and she pulled the doors open. Her eyes widened as she took in the contents.

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” she said, reaching into the froth of frills and lace and pulling out the first hangar she came across. The dress that hung from it was girly in the extreme with short, puffed sleeves, a close-fitting bodice and a very full knee length skirt, belled out by several sewn in crinoline petticoats, all done in a fetching powder blue. Something seemed off though. The style of the dress suited a younger girl and yet…

“That doesn’t make sense though. This is a big house. If you had a sister, she’d have her own room and wouldn’t need to keep her clothes in here.” She held the dress against her. It looked like a perfect fit. She looked across at Raphael who had stopped struggling and instead was studiously avoiding Lori’s eyes, the flush spreading across his face just visible in the subdued light.

Lori turned back to the wardrobe. To the right-hand side, a stack of shelves held a selection of unnecessarily frilly underwear — again more childish than anything. Camisoles rather than bras and ruffled knickers. Lacy socks and stockings of varying lengths. The floor of the wardrobe held dozens of pairs of shoes — sandals decorated with flowers or sequins, t-bar patent leather flats, several court shoes with kitten heels and tiny buckles to hold them on. The ones to the left seemed much too small, but they increased in size towards the right. Lori lifted one of her feet and held it beside one of the larger shoes. It looked like a reasonable fit a first glance.

“You don’t have a sister, do you?” Lori asked. Raphael ignored her. “I think these are yours, or at least bought for you. Did your mother want a daughter or something? I mean by the looks of it she’s been doing this to you since you were a little kid.” The dresses over on the left were much smaller, the smallest seeming about the right size for a five-year-old. “Is that why you had such a problem with me? Because I chose to do something you’ve been forced to do all your life?”

Raphael seemed to shrink in on himself.

“Does your dad know about this?” The question came in a flash of insight and Raph’s look of sudden panic confirmed her suspicions. “That’s it, isn’t it? She uses this to control you. The locked wardrobe in your room is a constant threat of what she’ll do to you if you step out of line. What she said to me earlier, that I should stay in here until she calls for me or there would be consequences. This is what she meant, isn’t it? Your family is messed up, Raph.”

Lori stared at the dress for a while, trying to imagine what she’d look like wearing it. She sat in front of the dressing table mirror and held it up to herself. Raphael was no athlete, but his shoulders were broadening as his masculine physique began to establish itself. The habitual sneer hid much of his resemblance to his mother. Combine that with his boyish haircut and you had an appearance that clashed distinctly with the frills and flounces in his hands and in the wardrobe.

She could think of only one reason for such clothes — to humiliate the wearer. To fill him with such dread at ever being found out, especially by his father, that he would be cowed into obedience. Perhaps an obedience that became so habitual over time that it remained even when he was miles from home.

Once more she felt a brief surge of sympathy towards the boy trussed up on the bed. To just what degree had his words to her, when she’d disguised herself as Morgana, genuinely reflected his thoughts and feelings? To what degree had they been a reflection of his parents’ ideals?

She decided to try something. It probably counted as unnecessary cruelty towards Raphael, but it might help her understand him better. Besides, she’d had enough of pretending to be a boy. Whatever she ended up looking like, she felt the knots that had been tightening inside her since she’d put on Lysander’s uniform loosening at the thought of wearing the dress rather than just holding it.

She picked out everything she needed to go with the it, including some woollen stockings to help protect herself against the chill along with the best matching shoes she could find, then took refuge behind one of the wardrobe doors where her captive couldn’t see her change.

The clothes fitted as well as she expected. There was no doubt she looked like a very obvious boy in a little girl party dress. She wished she had Anneka’s hairbrush or anything that might soften the masculine appearance of her body. Oddly she didn’t find her appearance as ridiculous as she’s thought. Maybe it was in the way she stood, or something in her eyes, but somehow the girl inside her remained visible.

She felt her inner self emerge from that place where she’d spent so much of her life hiding and the weight of pretence lifted from her shoulders. She settled in front of the dressing room mirror and let out a sigh, part relief from feeling some of her normality return, part frustration at her appearance. She suspected it wouldn’t be so many months before her own body looked so evidently masculine.

She noticed Raphael in the mirror glaring at her with a mixture of fury and terror. She turned to look at him.

“I don’t expect you to understand me,” she said, “not after you’ve had all this done to you.” Her wave took in the clothes she was wearing and the wardrobe they’d come from. “In the same way, I won’t pretend I understand what you’ve been through, though at a guess there have to be some similarities.

“I imagine being forced to wear clothes like this against your will must feel horribly wrong to you, and scary because you’re being made to do something you feel is so embarrassing. When I wear clothes like those,” she pointed at her brother’s uniform which she’d folded neatly and place on the dresser, “I also feel wrong, and kind of trapped, because I’m being made to do something I don’t feel is right for me. Can you understand that?”

Raphael made an attempt to speak, but all that came out was a muffled grunt.

“I guess I could take that gag off so we could have a civilised conversation, but I‘m not sure what you’d do. You might be so afraid of your mum finding me looking like you and dressed like this when I don’t have to be that you’d keep quiet, or you might be too afraid of what she’ll do to you if she finds out you had an opportunity to warn her and did nothing.

“It’s also quite possible that you hate me enough to shout out a warning and not worry about the consequences. Either way, it seems safer to keep you quiet.”

Raph glowered and there was something in his expression that suggested Lori had guessed right.

“What do you think would happen if I were to wait for the Order to arrive, your dad included, and then go down to join them dressed like this?”

The glower remained, but behind it, fear seemed to have an upper hand over his hatred.

“That’s what I thought,” Lori continued. “It won’t be as bad as you think though. In fact, it’ll be for the best, you’ll see. The worst thing you can do with a secret like this is keep it hidden.”

“Gmph grgl rmph grmph.”

“Look, it’s not going to be you going out dressed like this is it? It’s going to be that weird kid from school who currently looks like you. Sure, there’ll be some confusion and misunderstanding at first, but when the dust settles, none of it will be your fault. And you’ll be able to tell your dad what your mum’s been forcing you to do. It’ll work out, you’ll see.”

“Grmph mmph fmph!” Anger making a comeback.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but this is my choice. Unless you can escape from your bonds and grab me before I petrify you again. You can’t expect me to feel too much sympathy after the way you’ve treated me this year. You know, I didn’t have a lot of choice when I kind of went public, but it’s turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me. The people that love me most in my life have accepted this, and I’m sure the same will be true for you.

“Assuming you have any people in your life who love you.”

A sliver of moonlight peaked through the too casually drawn curtains. Lori slid through next to the window and gazed out over the silvery landscape, wondering where her brother might be now — her mother and father too, for all that.

She gazed around at the nearby peaks looking for any hint of where the bowl-shaped depression might be with its pool of white mist over the top. Chances were it would be a long way away though. Nothing nearby seemed as bleak as that place had been, and it made sense to keep something like that a long way from your back yard.

She hoped her parents had managed to escape, but she couldn’t raise her hopes high enough to expect their help. Most of that was on Lye.

She estimated he’d been gone nearly an hour now. The thestral’s were fast when they had to be, but the Peak DIstrict was pretty big too, and quite a long way from Leeds. Lori recalled the day their father had shown them the Muggle map. It’s true she’d not been in the best of moods, but she remembered it well enough. Depending on where they were in the region, Leeds could be anywhere between due North and due East and any distance between twenty and forty miles from where Anneka’s parents lived. Even assuming the best and Lye had found his bearings quickly, he had between ten and twenty minutes of flying at high speed to get to the right area, then maybe another ten or fifteen minutes of searching before he even found the right place. How long it would take to contact the ministry and arrange for a suitable response was anybody’s guess.

As she watched, a dark speck detached itself from the sky and swooped low, expanding into the form of a man on a broom. Hope blossomed and wilted almost in the same instant as the new arrival landed then walked up towards the front door and out of Lori’s sight. If this was the first of The Order to arrive, time was running out.

She considered her options. She could try using axio to summon either the stone or the casket — She remembered the Latin from her previous attempts — but the stone might already be anchored by some enchantment and simply trying might alert her adversaries to her presence. Besides, even if she was successful in calling the stone to her, that still left her upstairs in a strange house in the middle of nowhere with no easy way of escape. She thought she could just make out the shape of the thestral that had brought her here near the edge of the grounds, but it was several hundred yards away and it might not recognise her in Raphael’s form. Besides, it was too far to run with Maledicta’s mother and whoever else had just turned up chasing her. She did have the second earring, but five minutes of invisibility would barely get her to the door.

As she stared out into the night, she caught the sight of two more distant shapes moving across the stars. They grew into two more brooms and riders approaching in formation. They landed and approached the front door in the same way as the previous one. And then there were four.

Decision made. For all that she felt the need to act, her best course now was to wait and hope that her brother and her uncle didn’t take too long getting here.

The window was draughty and she shivered from the cold. Posh and expensive the house may have been, but it wasn’t modern which meant it didn’t have the advantages of modern technology. The windows were single glazed sash windows and didn’t do much to keep the heat in. The cold combined with everything else she’d experienced that night, and fatigue washed over her.

She walked back to the bed, checked Raphael’s bonds and pulled the bed covers over him before making her way round to the opposite side. It was large enough for four people to share comfortably, so she was able to keep a comfortable distance between herself and her captor.

“Don’t get any ideas,” she told him. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

Raphael’s muffled response was indecipherable but had a grumbling quality to it. She smiled as her imagination filled in the blanks and her head sank into the soft pillow.