(12) The Goblin Fair

Late that night the door to Dumbledore's office made a soft warbling sound. It opened slowly, silently.

A black wand with red stripes appeared in the gap between the door's edge and the door frame. The wand was held by a black leather glove.

At first the wand swept back and forth as though surveying the office. Then it pointed toward the phoenix perch near the foot of the stairs. There was no sign of Fawkes. Was the bird upstairs where Dumbledore had his private quarters?

The wand was swung in a swift circle.

An image of a bedchamber hung in the air. It was blurry, but the Headmaster could be seen in bed, apparently asleep. The scene shifted slightly. On a window sill sat Fawkes. Its head was under a wing. It, too, was asleep.

An exhale full of the release of tension caused the image of the bedchamber to vanish.

Now the wand pointed to a shelf below hardwood cabinets. It was directly across from Dumbledore's desk. On the shelf was what the person to whom the wand and glove belonged was hoping to find.

Another exhale; this one full of satisfaction.

The wand was throbbing, writhing, bloating up. And then, given a shake, it squirted a clear liquid that arched up and fell into the Pensieve bowl on the shelf.

The wand in the black glove withdrew. The door slowly, silently, closed.

There was a festive atmosphere in the Great Hall at breakfast that Saturday morning.

Quite a few students had their broomsticks with them. Deidre was using hers to sweep the owl feathers off her end of the table. (The windows closed as the last of the post owls flew out.)

Professor McGonagall, from her seat at the faculty board, could look down over her plate of omelettes and see her niece chatting gaily with her friends. And what an appetite Giselle had! She had worked through a stack of pancakes and was now eating strawberries dipped in whipped cream.

"Well, Pomona," said McGonagall to her table mate, "it does look like your house has not said a peep to Giselle about her sleepwalking episode last night. I commend their obedience to you."

Professor Sprout beamed. "Aren't they just adorable! And our new member, Mr Roundhouse, couldn't have been more of a gentleman. He was so gentle to Gee, trying to wake her without alarming her. He's an excellent addition to our house."

"Hmm," said McGonagall, casting a sharp glance at Roger at the Hufflepuff table. She was still wondering what to make of it: Giselle walking into the boys dorm! Did the girl have an unconscious desire to switch her affections from Charlie to Roger? And was this preferable? Was the boy thoroughly free of the potion's effect? Was Gee under some devious influence?

McGonagall glanced at Dumbledore, who was conversing with Snape. Was the Headmaster's lenient decision a wise one? Thirty days detention for Johan and Womblatt, ten demerits each, and 50 points from Slytherin house.

McGonagall noticed that the two miscreant students were sitting at opposite ends of the Slytherin table. Elenore was stabbing her slice of cantaloupe, scowling in thought, her face all but hidden by her curtains of shaggy hair. Krimson was gesturing at his broom, holding court with Draco while sitting quite close to Millicent Bulstrode, whom he seemed to favor over that seventh year girl, VeraTeedius.

McGonagall could not help feeling that a second chance for Johan and Womblatt was altogether too generous.

Giselle watched Viktor Krum squiggle his way between the crowded tables to say something to Hermione. Something about waiting for her outside. Hermione nodded. Ron sat woodenly, staring at his food as if it had no business being on his plate. Harry, ever the one to cheer Ron up, remarked about his broom maintenance kit, nodding at Ron's Shooting Star 7.

This had Giselle reaching for her Meteor. She had decided not to try out for the All-Star Seeker position, but to go for a Chaser slot on the team. The broom handle felt good in her hand, encouraging her. And with Roger now in Hufflepuff, they could try out together.

Yes... together. Why did this interest her so much? The look Roger had given her last night had been a wee bit too... forward.

And yet she felt fairly at ease with him sitting just a couple places from her, where she could hear him talking with Felix and Cedric. Why this change in her? She dare not dwell on it.

She picked up her grape juice cup and remembered her summer holiday with Charlie.

Caprice stood on the top step to her caravan house wagon, shaking out her gypsy skirt and watching the crowds of Hogsmeade residents ambling toward the fairgrounds as the last of the fireworks exploded in the air.

The Goblin Fair was officially open.

"What lies in your future?" she called out. "Come get your fortune told!"

She didn't much care if anyone responded. But when a rather dumpy woman came toward her, wearing a sloppy flower-print dress and a black and gold macrame scarf around her head, Caprice smiled. This might be fun, she thought.

"I do think I'll take you up on that offer," the woman said, jangling her beaded purse. "How much will it cost me?" She looked at the name scrawled on the side of the house wagon. "Madame Moonbeam?"

"Ten sickles. But for you, I'll make it seven. Come in and let's see what your fate has in store for you." Caprice opened the door and went in. A whiff of incense drifted out.

Hexaba climbed the steps, curious about what the illusion made her look like. Pretty? Or something less? Perhaps she'd catch a glimpse of herself in a mirror. What would she see? Her real appearance, or a stranger?

There wasn't much light in the stuffy interior. The windows were covered in heavy black drapes with a design of stars and quarter moons. At the back was an oval table. In the center of it was a large crystal ball flanked by little bowls of nasturtiums. To either side of the table was a lampstand holding three candles, and a box of smouldering myrrh.

"Do be seated, Mrs--?"

"Daphne Kindle," said Hexaba. Was it just her imagination, or was her body really being squeezed by the armrests of the narrow chair?

"Daphne," Caprice repeated and sat at the table across from her customer. "Um, seven sickles, then."

Hexaba fished out the coins and set them to one side of a flower bowl.

"There is a particular thing I'd like to know," she said, "if that isn't asking too much?"

"Not at all," said Caprice, mildly interested. "Is it about someone you know?"

"Yes, a dear friend and her husband. They were the victims of foul play, it is believed by some, several years back. At Stonehenge. They worked for the Lost And Found department in the Ministry."

Caprice thought that over. It rang a bell somewhere in the back of her mind.

"May I lay a finger on your wand, Daphne?"

Hexaba hesitated. But it would not do to express any doubts about 'Madame Moonbeam.' She took the sandalwood wand from her purse and placed it on the table, where it was reflected in the crystal ball.

Caprice pressed an index finger on the wand. She immediately caught her breath.

"A Sphinx-hair core," she said.

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No. But I should wear my circlet. It's a replica of the one worn by Cleopatra's soothsayer. It should help to clarify the images in the ball."

Hexaba cringed. She sensed trouble. Had her reference to a 'dear friend and her husband' been too suggestive of Isabel and Odin McGonagall? She stared intently at Caprice's face, looking for any sign of the woman's knowledge of the couple's misfortune.

Caprice had taken the gold circlet from a stool beside the table and was fitting it down over her forehead. It had a rearing serpent's head, an asp, on the front above an etched heiroglyphic.

Hexaba calmed herself. Yes, it was a little too convenient having the circlet at hand's reach, but after all, Caprice had always been fascinated by Egyptian artefacts.

This was Hexaba's last conscious thought before the golden asp struck, biting her on the shoulder.

Caprice watched the dumpy woman collapse, slipping out of the chair, sprawling on the rug.

She picked up the sandalwood wand. It was trying to express something. She stood and leaned over the unconscious body, touching the swollen face with the wand.

Something was wrong. What was it? The wand disliked something about Daphne Kindle. Why was that?

Caprice tapped the wand on the woman's bracelets, on the gimcrack necklsce, on a ring, and lastly on the headscarf.

Ah!

Caprice used the wand to prise off the scarf. She jumped back, amazed and angry.

It was a beautiful woman she was glaring down at, a beauty marred by the purplish swellings on the face, neck, and bare shoulder.

The door opened and Jon Minnex came in. "Caprice!"

"Back here! Come and see!"

"I have just learned that Upton Frumlow is on the school faculty. This may seriously complicate our-- Here, who is this?" He stood beside Caprice looking at the victim as though such happenings were commonplace.

"Are you blind? It's Hexaba, the daughter of Wadia Wassala! The step-sister of Narcissa Malfoy! Someone sent her to spy on me! Snape or Dumbledore!"

"Or Frumlow," said Minnex, gritting his teeth. "Look, the swelling is going down. Either your circlet was in need of more poison, or she took precautions before coming here."

"It's all because of your neurotic need for revenge against Snape!"

Minnex shook his head. "It's about the horcrux, and the McGonagalls. Why else would Dumbledore bring Frumlow to the school? He knows that Frumlow's nephew was working with Odin. He knows more than we can guess."

Caprice pressed a weary hand to her face. "What are we to do? We have put ourselves in a quandary, all because of your--"

"Shut up!"

Minnex paced the dark narrow room, muttering obscenities. "Dumbledore, or whoever sent Hexaba, will wonder about her absence if we keep her here. We have to get rid of her."

"She's wanted for the murder of Samson Studmann, have you forgotten?"

"What are you suggesting, that we call in the Aurors? No, we'll get rid of her on the sly. Think! Think! Think of something!"

"Give me time!"

Minnex drew his dagger. "Use this," he said in a calm, quiet tone, dropping the ensorcelled blade on the table. "I have to meet with the flying teacher, Hooch, about the Quidditch tournament. I don't want to see Hexaba here when I come back."