Scrutiny

   Stifling and reeking from flop sweat, the air was unbearable in the corridor behind the Great Hall, where a large number of students was gathered, anxious and nervous looks on many faces, as present as during the past days. The other half, was absolutely confident and talked about what they might be doing after school. But mainly, wand movements were trained or detail knowledge was shared in last minute. Among the students, whiter than any of them, a teacher had refused to leave one of the benches that had been put up along the wall, facing the row of windows. He sat with his elbows on his thighs and had his mouth buried in his palms, having a hard time not starting to cry on the ignorant dangling of Luna’s legs to his left, as well as her random humming.

 

   “Oh come on. She’ll have done alright this time. She’s just been too nervous.”

   “I know.”, Draco panted into his hands. “But it’s not D.A.D.A. that worries me. It’s the rest. I’ve seen Tofty’s face. The way he looked at me after she fled to hell only knows – ”

   “Alright, she might have screwed up Transfiguration again,”, admitted Ginevra, “But there’s been Charms and Potions and I’m sure she’s already done well in Defence too.”

   “Three NEWTs is minimum for the post she wants. Good, she’s pocketed Herbology with ease, but if she doesn’t pass Potions and at least one other – ”, the door opened and several heads rushed at Professor Coveridge who peered out with a list. “Oh my god – isn’t – where’s she – ”

   “Mr Goldstein, if you may follow me please, Miss Gommerick, you and Professor Tofty should be familiar by now and Miss Granger, to Professor Marchbanks of course. Miss Granger? Where – where is – ”

   “I’m – here!”, she shouted from far down the corridor where it bent right to the door that led into the front yard.

   “You? Late?”, Ginevra laughed as she came running, completely exhausted, with something on her held out hands.

   “Oh – shut – up – ”, Hermione moaned and slid to halt. “You – won’t – like to – hear – but I – ”

   “Miss Granger, Professor Marchbanks is waiting.”

   “Second – Madam. It’s – about – life and – death – ”, it was really hard for her to breathe and talk at once, but she had to. “Death, rather.”

   “What’s that, Hermione?”, Ginevra stared at the fluffy thing in her friend’s hands.

   “I’m so sorry – ”

   “Is that – Arnold?”, her tone became similar to Hermione’s.

   “Crookshanks – I’ve – I’ve found him – in a – shortcut – with – with – oh Ginny – ”, she handed the dead pet over and brushed back her sticky curls.

   “Er – are you sure it was Crookshanks?”, Ginevra frowned. “He looks rather like he just – snuffed it on his own – I don’t see anything that’s – ”

   “Really?”

   “Yes. I mean, he’s not even missing a single bit of his fur.”, she turned the lifeless ball in all possible directions and searched for any wounds. “No blood, no scratches – nothing. They might just have said goodbye, you know? Anyway, Fred said I shouldn’t expect him get too – old – er – yeah – ”, upon realising what she had just said, she couldn’t avoid blinking heavily at the dead furry animal.

   “Oh Ginny – ”, Hermione wailed.

   “You – you should get going.”

   “What? Oh – my exam – yes – goodness yes! I’m there already, Professor!”, Hermione downright lunged for the doorway to the hall, almost knocking McGonagall and Kingsley over, who had left their seats at the podium to see why she wasn’t coming. “Sorry – I’m really, really sorry – my cat’s killed – er – I mean, Ginny’s Pygmy Puff – I just found him dead at my cat’s feet – ”, she stammered, but was silenced by McGonagall’s hand on her shoulder and Kingsley’s soft, deep voice.

   “No need to worry, Hermione. Take some thorough breaths, calm down and take in your seat with Professor Marchbanks.”

   “Okay – sorry – ”

 

   She still aspirated her last apology, but took a step into the hall, where her colleagues had sat down already, waiting for their final exam to start – it struck her immediately. While the other practical examination settings had been quite similar, a sudden awareness shot into her head. This was it. She stood exactly where he had stood, only that he hadn’t had needed to take care of a deceased little version of a Puffskein – let alone that this sort of breed hadn’t existed yet back then. But this was the moment, no matter that she would still have to present her Thesis. It was the last of her exams, the end of her time at Hogwarts and she would never return as a student ever again. Yes, she would still be welcome in these halls, but it would be different from now on. Everything was and would be different.

   Memories of already long gone time suddenly cascaded before her eyes, like people still described the final seconds awaiting death, where you would reflect on your entire life within mere seconds, and she felt just like she had back then, when she stepped up to the Sorting Hat, having the urge to vomit as well as turn and run for it at the same time. She smelled a strange mix of all the food she had ever eaten in this hall, heard snippets of Dumbledore’s speeches; of the hat’s songs – foreigners sitting down with them, and the mishap of the Weasley Twins’ try to pass a certain age line. Umbridge’s hair curl snapping up. Even her wrist now hurt from the memory of her fail in Apparition Class. A lonely dance under glistening Christmas decoration. Countless chess matches, one of which, had been her own. Dust, rubble, grief of an entire year and more of terror and anxious loneliness – and all of it blown away over a single summer – wiped from the hall, but not from memory. A new chapter, a new start.

   With her head held high and an unmitigated look of peremptoriness to play down her panic, she flounced straight towards the very old Griselda Marchbanks and sat down in front of her, straighter than usual and her legs side to side, her hands in her lap, purposely. The woman gave her a worried gaze, but Hermione blocked it coldly.

 

   “I am sorry to hear about your friend’s – er – pet – do – do you feel capable of taking your exam?”

   “Yes, Madam.”

   “Very well. Please put your hands on the table, where I can see them.”, she did that, but how Marchbanks had asked her to do so, had sounded rather rude to her. “Good. As we have already spoken about your Thesis, we should go straight forward to some personal questions I however haven’t had the opportunity to ask. I can understand that the death of a creature you seemed to like, can be a terrible add to the stress you already went through – eight N.E.W.T.s and a Thesis – absolutely extraordinary. You have, at least in terms of numbers, gotten close to – ”

   “I know whom I have gotten close to, thank you.”, she said more snooty than she had intended to, but couldn’t deny she was proud of the work she had loaded upon herself.

   “Er – naturally.”, Marchbanks gazed at her over her spectacles. “And I don’t mean to worry you, but you seemed to have some troubles in your practical Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. examination. Of course I know what you have been through and doubt you would fail,”

   “What I have been through.”, Hermione snorted quietly. “We all have been through things, haven’t we? And that result back then was the fault of someone who got herself pinned to the ceiling of her cell in Azkaban.”

   “If you refer to Dolores Umbridge,”, Marchbanks sighed but was cut off again.

   “Yes, exactly her.”

   “She might have ruined your education for a year, but I have knowledge of your successful resistance movement. It makes me a little more optimistic, but – fine. Before you chop me into slices with that look of yours, I will not linger on the matter any longer.”, she shortly scratched her temple with another sigh, this time at the open folder between them. “However, I do have a note on your career advice interview in here. A side note from Madam Umbridge that you may be striving for a high position within the Ministry of Magic and – ”

   “I thought she would get that through. No, I don’t want to go for – Mr Shacklebolt’s post. As you might have assumed while reading my Thesis, I wish to work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, namely in the Being Division. I have already had a job interview and was assured, once I achieved the required N.E.W.T.s, I could start working there.”

   “And which direction – ”

   “Rather the Goblin Liaison Office, but next to it working as a volunteer for better treatment of Houseelves.”

   “Very well. I have – ”, the woman skipped some papers, “Yes, here it is. I have a question regarding your theoretical Charms exam. You wrote there that a Disillusionment Charm does not necessarily need an incantation spoken or even a wand held. I am familiar with the non-verbal casting, but so far I have not come to acknowledge that it can be done wandless and transfused – by touch? This is a minor error, but still I would like to hear why you wrote that.”

   “It’s not an error at all.”, Hermione remained cold. “I have seen someone doing it.”

   “Ah now I remember, yes, Houseelves can become invisible without a wand.”

   “I’m not talking about Elves.”

   “Not?”, Marchbanks blinked.

   “Not at all. It was a wizard and he was excellent at it.”

   “And who would that be?”

   “Severus Snape.”, she said curtly, charming a quiet chuckle out of Marchbanks.

   “Now had he been?”

   “Oh yes.”

   “Indeed, he was very talented. That has brought him not only friends, however. But you may be familiar with that, if you already know such about him.”

   “Quite.”

   “And – how did that work?”

   “Will?”

   “Of course. I did not expect any other answer. He believed strongly in willpower. I have read his Thesis in Defence Against the Dark Arts thoroughly, I remember, and I must say, he had believed in many extraordinary things he had managed to prove right. Yes, it appears very legit to also believe he may have been able to make himself invisible by only wanting it. I don’t wish to further speak about his exams as this is yours we are dealing with here, but it happens to lead me straight to my next question. Have you happened to have gotten the chance to read his Thesis as well or why else did you describe special forms of Patronuses so detailed, rather than merely naming them as the question – ”

   “I haven’t gotten to read his Thesis, but I won’t deny he told me a lot on the matter. Most of it appears; as you already pointed it out; legit and it would surprise you – never mind. Next question?”

   “What were you going to say, Miss Granger?”, Hermione only gave her an annoyed stare. “Then not. Though I have indeed a very troubling question. Personally troubling. A fair number of your colleagues who already took their N.E.W.T.s before Christmas and also a number of the current, seem to be believing that there is something like an advanced version of the Killing Curse? They did not wish to give me further information, but all insisted that there is evidence.”

   “Then you should have used Legilimency on them.”, mumbled Hermione. “Oh, forgive me. I forgot, it is illegal using it on an examinee.”, she knew she had stepped across some border at last as the other two had raised for the practical part already, but Marchbanks seemed unwilling to stand up at all and preferred taking off her glasses very slowly, placing them carefully on the folder and looking straight into Hermione’s eyes.

   “Could it be,”, she said very quiet and as slow, “That your relation to – Professor Snape – exceeded that of a teacher to a pupil? That you had gotten close to him in other ways than the number of N.E.W.T. exams taken?”

   “I hardly believe, such is part of a regular examination, Griselda?”, McGonagall joined in their conversation, causing silence to fall over the hall and a perfectly conjured shield to collapse.

   “Please don’t understand me wrong, Minerva, or especially you, Miss Granger. I am not accusing you of anything illegal. I am solely interested whether he – ”

   “Shared more than specialised knowledge? I am sorry to disappoint you, but what Professor Snape shared with me explicitly, he shared with me alone and I am not to tell anyone a thing about it.”

   “I can understand that you defend him. He partook in certain things that were rather irresistible, that much is proven, and even comprehensible when considering his background, once gotten over the shock how far he could indeed go in terms of – er – the forbidden.”

   “If you mean the Ministry record he managed to get himself and steal without anyone’s notice or the fact that he was a contract killer, for the one and other side, you tell me no news. I know things about him that would redefine the word `shock´ for you – and many more. But for your welfare, Professor, I would prefer referring to a certain `Jeanne´.”

   “That one Avenger?”

   “Yes, that one. He’s gone. He won’t speak for himself here any longer. Nor will I. If you want to talk about him, ask Professor McGonagall whether she may grant you entry to her office for the chance of meeting his portrait there. But the last thing I would do, apart from giving away secrets to people who aren’t capable of believing their own eyes, is promising you to get any answers from him, Madam. The castle is big and he knows to travel it faster than anyone I am just slightly familiar with, even the Ghosts. And I should know best, as he has successfully avoided me for an entire school year. But say, that you actually find him up there and are able to confront him without causing him to flee from you, he might as well listen to you with a smile and not give you any hint of an answer or response at all. To your actual question, yes, there is an advanced Killing Curse. I haven’t seen it, but I believe the people who have. And that’s much, considering that I normally don’t like to believe anything without finding it logical or having witnessed it myself. Any more questions? Or shall I show you my Patronus already?”, she jumped up.

   “Miss Granger – I – ”

   “I could try to conjure Fiendfyre as well, Madam. I can’t guarantee I have as much control over it as he had, but I think, giving it a try won’t hurt, would it? Oh yes – I forgot – I am the little bookworm! I’m the theoretical! The Mudblood who could do complicated spells at young age but failed at highly advanced magic!”

   “Miss Granger!”, Marchbanks was on her feet as well.

   “And you should definitely work on your shields, Madam.”, Hermione huffed. “Harry wouldn’t think bad of me if he was here. I’m like a sister to him and he would defend me. Besides, he will never take an educational exam again. He’s not easy to collect. If you don’t know what I mean, ask Professor Slughorn. Harry took his NEWTs irregularly because he didn’t want to be displayed, but also not treated like a child. Everyone knows what he’s capable of now. That’s what differs him from his parents at that age, or me. While he’s been deemed worthy enough to be believed everything at last, we others will still have to prove our abilities. That’s unfair, seeing as Kingsley already tried to work against that by hiring people that haven’t graduated but shown their skills otherwise. But you know what differs me from all others, Madam? What I really have in common with Harry?”

   “Er – ”, the examiner just stared at her like everybody else.

   “I want to still prove myself. For the sake of peace. So that a regime like Voldemort’s cannot infest our rows again. I am a Mudblood. I am Muggle-Born and I am proud of it. Lily Evans might have failed at implementing that information, but we’re not less talented or less valuable in any other way just because of our descent. Yes, it does matter where you come from. Because, combined with your experience, it is what makes you. But it doesn’t matter at all if you decide to ignore every bit of influence and do nothing with your life. Or worse, nothing but hurt others. It’s not where we come from. We’re all the same. We’re all human. But we are individuals and it’s each individual’s choice to use their experience and knowledge from it for personal and common welfare. Yes, I have killed a Death Eater.”, it brought her exactly the reaction she had wished to get. “Or two, if I think about it. But that doesn’t make me a bad person. I won’t say, killing is alright. There are better options. And that is, what makes me a good person, in my opinion. I know it is not okay to cause harm. That is what differs me. That is what makes me able to do that.”

 

   Though angry to the bone, she swung her wand and without even a whisper, a bluish silver stream burst from its tip, separating in the air and becoming a bright otter and crow. They rushed lively through the ancient hall, around her and gently sat down on her shoulders, flanking her definite expression.

 

   “Next. Question.”

 

 

~~#~~

 

 

   Every day could be a good day, as much as everything else, considering the point of view. So while many people had complained about the rain on that late August day like they would every year, one young woman was different. She came in through the kitchen door of The Burrow while her family was already at supper, soaking wet. It hadn’t surprised any of them that she hadn’t taken off her new dark green uniform, but as much pride there was on her mother’s face when she saw her only daughter so cheerful in spite of the exhaustion, as much anger gushed from her mouth when her look fell on the mud Ginevra spread on the floor.

 

   “Cool down, Mum.”, she laughed when she sat down and helped herself to some liver paste and a kiss of her husband. “I’ll clean that later.”

   “You two fit together so perfectly.”, moaned Molly. “Tidiness was never your strength.”

   “Oh shuch up, Mum.”, munched Ron.

   “Yeah. You know it’s in the blood,”, meant George who had decided to sleep at home more often again and now eyed his brother-in-law’s neat robe that matched Ginevra’s wet uniform in colour. “And besides, Harry’s grown some sense of tidiness, you can’t deny. I mean, look at that! He’s as sleek as a whale on a beach! Apart from the black kelp of course.”

   “I just don’t want to be called a beggar ever again, that’s all. And after all it doesn’t hurt being well dressed when you got a job at the Ministry. It works miracles on people that rate respect according to clothing. Spares faces from papers and badges being slammed into them.”

   “Though your hair’s still shitty.”, Ron added on the greasing mane with regardlessly standing off ends.

   “Why don’t you for once leave Harry’s hair?”, murmured Hermione. “We’re not interested in that. What we’re interested in is how Ginny’s first day was, right?”, her eyes travelled between the two gingers.

   “Amazing.”, grinned her friend. “Best day on a pitch ever. Okay, it’s just been training, but it already felt like a game. Can’t wait for the first one.”

   “Sounds good. But you should be careful. As you said, it was only just the first training. This is a complete new level now. You could seriously get hurt in a game.”

   “Don’t be such a party pooper, Hermione.”, Ginevra chuckled. “I can take care of myself. And you could seriously get hurt in Hogwarts games too, remember? I think, Harry’s a great example. When have I ever gotten hurt, huh? How’s your first day been.”

   “Awful.”, sighed Hermione. “I had no idea they would let me work through trade agreements. Incredible how low the Ministry’s trust in Goblins is. My head is bursting with numbers and calculations.”

   “Yours? No way!”, Ron caught himself a nauseated glance.

   “That is how you usually start at the Ministry.”, Arthur noted. “You do low work until they decide you can do better.”

   “Well, unless – ”, George started, explicitly looking at Ron and Harry.

   “But I got – ”

   “It doesn’t matter how many OWLs or NEWTs you got.”, said Harry. “Not in real life. Yeah, like I said, it does come in handy and I’m really glad I passed them. But other than that, not yet. And we’ve been trying to tell you for years and even now we turned out to have been right, you still won’t believe us.”

   “Yeah. Look at us.”

   “Neither of us has graduated.”, George agreed with his brother. “Mystery whales not counted. And still we got better jobs than you.”

   “But there are also many people who haven’t graduated either and haven’t got any job at all.”

   “So do people who graduated with best marks,”, Harry crushed her angry pouting.

   “Good certificates can indeed bring you further in life,”, continued Arthur, ignoring his wife’s warning stare, “But they aren’t mandatory if you want to get the job you like to do. They might bring you better payment, though what matters is that you are happy with your occupation.”

   “Are you happy?”, Hermione asked him.

   “I wasn’t, at first. But I learned brutally that I actually like what I do. Frustration is of course unavoidable when having to rely on others to cooperate. Still there is always a solution. Don’t let yourself be beaten on your first day already. You are a clever young woman, Hermione. You know your way round, I’m sure. Did any of you hear news from Draco and Hannah, by the way?”, like usually when the subject was raised, Hermione needed to be quick to step on Ron’s foot to prevent him from complaining.

   “I still need that bit!”, he hissed under his breath.

   “You haven’t lost it yet, have you?”, she countered.

   “Sorry, forgot about that. He’s sent me an owl yesterday.”

   “He’s sent you an owl, Harry?”, Ron moaned.

   “Problem?”

   “No – it’s just – it’s still Malfoy, you know?”, and Harry as well could be oblivious.

   “They had to stay inside for a couple of days because of the horrible weather, but as soon as it gets better, they plan to visit the centre of Shanghai and move onwards to Quingdao and then Beijing and probably even get to see the Great Wall.”

   “I still don’t understand why he of all wants to visit a Muggle building.”

   “It is one of the greatest structures ever built by men.”, Hermione corrected Ron. “Of course it is horrible how many people had to die building it, but it is also a great example of what willpower can achieve. And who says it’s been all Muggles to have built it? I don’t question Muggles’ abilities to build something that lasts as long, but – ”

   “Done with it?”, snorted Harry. “I just meant to answer a question. You don’t need to start arguing again.”

   “It’s in her nature. Thought you knew – ow! Stop stomping on my feet!”

   “I still don’t get it.”, Ginevra muttered quietly, shaking her head, drops from the still dripping bundles of long hair splattering in various directions. “How can they possibly – ”

   “I stopped questioning that long ago.”, mumbled Harry. “Guess, they need it. Anyway,”, he continued more forceful, “They seem to do alright. Although Draco believed he’d gotten mad the other day.”

   “He finally admits it?”, Ron chuckled and got himself another loathing look from his wife, who eventually choked at Harry’s next sentence.

   “He thought he’d seen Karkaroff sitting in a teahouse.”

   “You’re alright?”

   “I’m – fine – ”, Hermione coughed, bright red.

   “But he meant, since we got proof he’s definitely dead, his mind must have played a trick on him. And besides, even if he’d miraculously still be alive, what would he be doing in China? He never seemed to be the type to hang out in a teahouse, if you ask me.”

 

   Harry laughed but Hermione could see that Draco’s supposed sighting troubled him, and her as well, she had to admit. After all she was still carrying Karkaroff’s body around in her beaded handbag, transfigured to a single bone. But maybe Draco had really gotten a bit too fond of him before the battle and the different climate messed with his eyes. After all he had frequently seen things ever since it, or at least confessed openly that he did see things; she didn’t know whether it had ever been like that; that weren’t there. Understandable, considering what he had gone through.

   Draco had loaded himself with big projects, Harry had decorated his wall with corpses, Ron had fled into chess parties and Ginny had started writing a secret diary. Only little more than a year had passed since the end of the war, a year that had gone by faster than any other and she had gotten to understand that she was the only one who hadn’t built herself a castle of ignorance, a castle to crouch up in and lock out the world. Or had she? Wasn’t her castle a construction of secrets? A web of lies? A castle Luna had tried desperately to destroy? Why was Luna so keen on Severus’ innocence? Still? Any time they talked about those Death Eater murders? But the evidence was there.

 

   “Tell me, what is wrong with you, dear?”

   “Huh?”, she had been so deeply in considerations that she had lost track of the conversation.

   “Nothing’s wrong with me, Mum.”, Ginevra frowned.

   “Oh of course there is something wrong with you. I can see it in your eyes. There is something going on. What haven’t you told me?”

   “There’s quite a lot I haven’t told you,”

   “What?”, Molly gasped.

   “Did you really expect me to tell you every single piece of knowledge there is in my head?”

   “You should tell her.”, Harry whispered from the corner of his mouth, with a little smile and no one missed that he had never had such a smile on; something in Hermione’s brain however clicked and she remembered to have seen that look before, on his father.

   “What should you tell me?”

   “I said we wait!”, hissed Ginevra.

   “How long? She’ll know latest when you drop out of the team.”

   “Horrible enough, isn’t it?”

   “Drop out of the team?”, her mother moaned.

   “Last time we talked about it, you were different.”, Harry said to the rest of his supper.

   “Sure there are more important things in life than Quidditch.”

   “More important things than Quidditch? Blimey, Hermione! Stop giving me those looks!”

   “But until then,”, Ginevra ignored either, “There’s only the loss of my head that can make me stop playing.”

   “It’s dangerous.”

   “Harry,”

   “If something happens, it’s not only your problem alone. It’s ours. Don’t forget that.”

   “Which problem, dear?”, urged Molly. “What’s wrong?”

   “I said nothing’s wrong.”, Ginevra snarled.

   “She’s your mother. You can’t fool her. She knows already anyway.”

   “But Harry – ”

   “Tell her, or I do it.”

   “Ginny dear – ”

   “Alright, alright.”, sighed her daughter, but couldn’t hold back an excited smile either. “There’s a cub in advancing.”

 

 

~~#~~

 

 

   A sticky cloud hung over the still humid short grass that had suffered from the sun of the previous days. Gently swaying against the high cliff in the deep, the salty sprays could be smelt even up high and a flock of seagulls was circling over a hooker far on the greyish blue waves under the misty sky. He could feel his face getting warm from the breath reflected by the cloak’s materials. Sure to be visibly alone on the high plain, he took it off and stored it in his pouch, whereupon he needed several attempts to get his hair back in something like an order. Frustrated, he had to take off his glasses as their hinges had trapped some strands.

   With a deep sigh he inhaled the flat breeze and took another look around. Something was clearly there, and he knew he was being watched. Furthermore it made him certain that there were many more skills he needed to develop. Nevertheless he turned his head past the blue line on the horizon and the boat and onto another spot in some distance. Where the coast declined behind a hill, there was a long beach, a small harbour and a number of houses that gained his interest, since he understood he wasn’t to join the watcher.

   So he climbed that hill to his right and looked down onto the village, through which a small river joined the salty waves. The wind must have changed slightly, as he now could hear the bell atop a swaying buoy down at the port. That side of the hill was rather steep, but he nevertheless ran down towards an overgrown path, onto which he nearly crashed. Cursing to himself, he realised that he had stepped on his loose shoelace. Just as he crouched down to fix it, he spotted a figure by a fence around some meadow. Pointed olive eyes pierced his of a far lusher green and some more wrinkles formed on the elderly woman’s bloated face. A single grey curl hung from beneath her worn out brown scarf and every other second she would unintentionally squint at it.

   Supported on an iron wheelbarrow filled with cow dung, she studied him for a while, then turned to an open gate in the fence and meant to do what she had come for, but she was halted by the young man once more.

 

   “Excuse me, Madam – ”, she didn’t turn however.

   “No English.”, the woman said curt, with a heavy accent.

   “русски? Do you speak Russian?”

 

   There was a rather long pause, which she used to put down the barrow, and not without a faint stagger, slightly turned back to him. Another mustering stare, a nod.

 

   “Yes. Yes, boy. Go to the river. But one house before, turn right. Follow the street. Just past the butchery. Three more houses on the left-hand side.”

   “Er – ”

   “That is where you will find him.”

   “Him?”

   “Now.”, she dropped a brief chuckle and an awkward smile. “I have never seen you, but you could not be more alike. I have confused him often enough to know that stare. And you really need to reconsider your hairstyle, boy.”, without meaning to, he touched his shrubby waves. “He handles it far better. Now go, before you miss him. It is nearly time.”

   “Time? Time for what?”

   “Lunch, sweetie. And it is Saturday! They’ll close! Or do you not have a watch?”, he pulled the chain from his front pocket.

   “It is ten in the morning – ”

   “Goodness, no, it is about midday!”

   “Oh. Sure. Time zones. Forgot about those.”

   “Now hurry up! My grass will not flourish on its own either!”

   “Thank you, Madam. Thank you.”

   “Yes, yes.”

 

   While she brandished him off, he was already running for it, raising dust under his now formerly black shoes and trousers. By the moment he finally arrived in said street and could spot the river past the cobbles, a church bell started to ring. Panting heavily and sweating into his purple shirt, he hasted along, ignoring a way too familiar ginger who left the butchery, grunting after him in Russian. To prevent himself from hurtling over some baskets before the shop, he reached for a lamp post and his shoulder gave an alarming sound.

   Trying to breathe, he straightened hair, clothes and glasses, wiped some sweat off his face and with a split-second concentration, cooled down his body. Another deep breath and he entered through the old glass door, instantly meeting with a tiny bell’s chime and the greetings of a pair of customers, who had some issues changing position with him in the crammed small shop.

   On the counter stood a bouquet in a bucket and behind it, picking, adding and adjusting flowers, the blonde whom the customers had said goodbye to. Her icy eyes had a strange brownish shimmer in the dull light coming from outside and not only her sunken cheeks reminded him a little of Narcissa on her bad days. The tousled plait over the shoulder and some sweaty strands in her face, she peeked past the bouquet and eyed him with interest.

 

   “Good morning, only just.”, she meant in Russian. “You can consider yourself lucky that I am still busy.”

   “Good morning, yes. I – do you have – greeting cards?”

   “Yes, what would you need?”, she cleaned her hands with a towel and opened a drawer to her right and he spotted quite quick what he had hoped for.

   “Something for a grandfather-to-be?”

   “I have – ”, while she searched, he went to a bucket in the corner to his left, hosting a number of white tulips. “Only three different ones here.”, she placed them on the counter and he went over, a single tulip in hand. “Which one – ?”

   “No matter, actually. I would only like you to please take one of them to your assistant in the back, along with this.”, with a definite look into her eyes he held the tulip towards her.

   “I – what?”, the woman chuckled out her more than obvious confusion.

   “Please, yes.”

   “Now?”

   “Yes, now, thank you.”

 

   Not knowing what to think of it, she picked the middle card and the tulip from him and disappeared through the curtain of bead strings behind the counter. He didn’t have much time to study the shop. Something silvery white suddenly appeared by the colourful bucket she had abandoned for him. The piercing, doleful eyes reminded him of a candle’s halo through a crystal carafe, only that they didn’t shine.

   He was sure that he now belonged to the few people ever having wandered earth to have been granted that rare opportunity. Puzzled by the sight, he didn’t even notice that the moment didn’t last as long as it felt to him. A sort of bridge seemed to exist between their eyes as though it had ever done so, and slowly but appearing to know exactly what it did, the creature gently raised its left hand.

   Thin rosy fingers in a very loose fist downright commanded him to mirror them. In similar manner, he lifted his right hand, cautious not to scare the being, but his knowledge told him that he wouldn’t, as his move was too predictable. In a blink the creature tilted its hand slightly up, as if to signal him to stay below, which he did.

   Never had he felt a touch that was so unearthly yet familiar, it sent shivers down his entire body, when the hand faintly enclosed his fingers only. Those almost instantly turned grey. So did the small creature’s big eyes. Knowing he was safe to do so, he stretched out his left arm and carefully stroked its soft head. The fur was unlike any he had touched so far and still he knew the feeling so well, having felt something very close to it only minutes ago to his face and both hands. As he continued his stroking, the creature retrieved its left hand from his.

   Then, startling not only him, there was the sound of some metal object hitting a tiled floor, followed by a high surprised shriek; unmistakably by the shop owner; and some hasty footsteps. In a brief moment he noticed that his hands had regained their colour and the creature was gone.

   Nevertheless he startled another time when the then again swaying wooden beads where pushed aside with some force. A disbelieving pair of eyes he hadn’t seen in some while hit his, yet flicked at the counter so quickly he could barely catch it.

 

   “Hey.”, he smiled at the mix of emotions bombarding him. “And no, it’s not your fault I found you. I just have means others don’t and you know that, I believe. Does Luna know of that Demiguise?”

 

 

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