(7) The Goblin Fair

The young russet-haired beauty in the torn black gown had her back to the door of Number 17 Spinner's End.

She was rummaging through the drawer of a roll-top desk in the sitting room, a room with walls covered in loaded bookshelves. She didn't hear the door open, nor did she notice the long shadow slipping across the rug from the morning sunlight that cast it.

But her instincts warned her that something undesirable was coming up behind her.

Gripping her wand, she turned, and immediately fell back against the desk, her eyes wide with shock and despair.

She was speechless. How had he found her, when all the best Aurors were clueless of her whereabouts?

"One may delight in uninvited guests to one's house," said Dumbledore affably, "but not when one is absent from one's home. May I ask what you're doing in Severus Snape's residence, Hexaba?"

She started to answer, but her throat was constricted. She was overwhelmed with a dread that deadened her tongue and froze her limbs.

"Never mind that, for now," Dumbledore said, coming a step closer. "Relax. I'm not going to harm you. I have questions and a proposal."

Hexaba shook off her paralyzing fear and gasped, "Don't send me to Azkaban, I beg you! I beg you!"

He noted the wet pleading look in her eyes. "I would never send anyone to Azkaban," he said. "I did not even send Grindelwald there. Cooperate with me, Hexaba, and your freedom will extend a bit further into the future."

He held out his hand, palm up. "Your wand."

She hesitated. Could she possibly--? No! Much too risky.

She held the wand between thumb and forefinger, dropping it on the palm.

Dumbledore smiled. He weighed the wand and ran his wrist along its length. "Sandalwood. Sphinx-hair core. Formerly the possession of a Hufflepuff student, Beatrice Swiddle. You stole it from her several months ago. It has transferred its loyalty to you, and I believe I know why. You have a stronger relation to the core's nature than does Miss Swiddle."

Hexaba stood up straight and sighed. She felt a little less nervous now. A 'proposal,' Dumbledore had said. He wanted her to do something for him. This was a ray of hope for her. Somehow she might be able to escape him, at some point. Yes, cooperate. Don't be obstinate. Play along with him.

"My mother was an Egyptian. She belonged to the Snake Charmer's Guild, in Cairo."

"And she was a graduate," said Dumbledore, "of the Al-Jinn School of Magic in the reconstructed palace of King Tut. A fascinating place. It would repay a visit, I'm sure. Currently your mother is in England. For what purpose I don't know." He looked at Hexaba inquiringly.

Taking the hint, she said forthrightly, "Mother doesn't confide in me. But I'm aware that she has a lover, a staff writer for the Daily Prophet. I forget his name. Kenneth somebody."

"Ah," said Dumbledore. "The only real connection Miss Swiddle has with the Sphinx-hair core is through her father, Clement. He has been experimenting with staves, attempting to apply two or more hearts from separate red ravens. Miss Swiddle spent her early childhood in Ethiopia and Egypt. Professor Binns says that Miss 'Diddle,' as he calls her, has written an excellent essay on ancient Egyptian magic."

He held the wand out to her. This surprised her. It also worried her. Had he charmed it in some way that would force her obedience to him?

Grasping it, she at once knew what he had done. An Annulment spell. The wand would be useless for the next twenty-four hours. She sighed through her nose, eyeing him narrowly, but with a smile.

"What is this proposal you spoke of?" she asked.

He glanced at the rows and rows of books, at the reading lamp beside a stuffed armchair.

"You are familiar with the former Caprice Eff?" he ventured.

Hexaba frowned. "Somewhat, I suppose. Through my mother, when we lived in a flat upstairs in the Leaky Cauldron. I didn't care for Caprice. She was seeing this stuck-up freak, a half-goblin." Then Hexaba sucked in a deep breath, alarmed. "Is this about Minnex, an Auror? He became one, didn't he? I'm certain he did. Is he after me?"

Dumbledore took hold of a book that floated up to him from a shelf. "Minnex resigned after the Inquest into the disappearance of Odin McGonagall and his wife, Isabel," he said, leafing through the book. "Minnex has since become the manager and co-owner of the Goblin Fair, which opens tomorrow at Hogwarts. But about Caprice," he said spritely, closing the book and looking steadily at the curious Hexaba. "She married Minnex after it became obvious to her that Severus favored Lily Evans, even after Lily became Mrs Potter."

"So, this is about Caprice, not Minnex?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Yes. It's about Caprice. We'll leave Minnex to the tender mercies of Severus."

He drew a red and black macrame scarf from a robe pocket and gave it to Hexaba. She puzzled over it.

"The scarf serves two purposes," Dumbledore said, patting the book. "It is a portkey that will take you to the gates of Hogwarts at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. And when you wrap it around your head, after arriving at the school, it will hide your identity. No one but myself will be able to recognize you."

"But... what of Mad-Eye Moody? He's on the faculty this term, I heard. Won't his crazy magic eye see right through my disquise?"

"Oh, possibly. But I'll send him off on an errand this weekend, to London, let's say, so we won't have to worry about it."

Hexaba bit worryingly on her lower lip. "Caprice is at the Fair?"

"Playing the part of a gypsy crystal-ball gazer," Dumbledore replied. "I want you to visit her and have your fortune told."

Hexaba was taken aback. "What on earth for?"

"Just a pretense. I suspect that she was the one who encouraged, and arranged, for Peter Pettigrew to betray the Potters. She wanted revenge against Lily for stealing Severus' heart away from her. Use your wits to lead her into a conversation that will reveal whether or not my suspicion is correct. I have faith in your cleverness, Hexaba. For should you fail, your liberty will be in jeopardy."

At breakfast that Friday morning Giselle stirred her porridge like it was the contents of a cauldron. She was smiling at the letter the owl post had brought her a few minutes earlier. From Charlie. He had been sent to the south coast of France to investigate the sighting of a sea monster that had frightened off a vacationing family of Muggles from America.

"I left my schedule in my dorm," said Felix. "What's our first period class?"

"Hagrid's," Cass said, sitting a little sideways on her bench so that by leaning over just a trifle she could accidentally bump Harry's shoulder at the Gryffindor table.

"Hagrid's?" said Deidre, slumping in feigned despair. "I heard from Luna yesterday about the lesson. The Humming Nose-Pecker. It tries to pull out hair from your nose, to build its nest with."

Lori pretended to gag. "That's totally disgusting. Why ever do we have to learn about silly things like that?"

"It's magic bird month," Bea explained, adding chunks of brown sugar to her oatmeal. "Where's the buttered toast? Why is it I always have to hunt for the buttered toast?"

"Roscoe's hogging the whole tray," Lori said, then shouted, "ROSCOE!"

He knew what she meant. Grumbling, he shoved the tray along, propelled by others who didn't miss a bite or pause in their talk.

Giselle took a slice, tore it up, and dropped the pieces in her porridge. She had been ignoring the feeling that someone behind her at the Slytherin table was staring at her. But now, putting down her spoon, she glanced back.

She had never seen Roger look at her like that.

"Miss Fleetwood," Felix said to Deidre, mimicking Krum, "may I have the honor of escorting you to the Goblin Fair tomorrow?"

The girls breathed a mocking laugh; all but Giselle.

"The honor will be all mine, Mr Franklin," Deidre replied like a dowager queen.

"Splendid. I shall come fetch you tomorrow after breakfast."

"Don't bother, just whistle and I'll come running."

Giselle folded the letter and put it in her robe's inside pocket.

He's still staring at me, she thought, a tingle going up her spine.

Aunt Minerva came down from the faculty board, and with hardly a glance at her niece she went over to the Slytherin table and handed Roger a sealed envelope.

Hmm, thought Giselle.

"Welcome, Hufflepuff and Slytherin!" boomed Hagrid. "Lovely day. Form a line and put on the wire-mesh nose guards lyin on the grass, there. Great lesson I got for ye today."

To one side of the hut was a large screened-in cage. A number of brightly colored birds were clattering around in the cage and chirping impatiently.

Giselle set down her book bag and picked up the nose guard. She did not have a good feeling about this, nor did anyone else. But of course that was normal for Care of Magical Creatures class.

"Nasty," remarked Lori, fitting the mask over her nose and tightening the rubber strap. "How do I look?" she asked Giselle.

"Like a koala bear."

"So do you! But it's not a honeycomb we're getting," she added, frowning at Hagrid as he unlatched the cage. He was briefly describing the habits of the Nose-Pecker, its valiant attempts to pluck nose hair from its targets.

The students groaned.

"Everyone ready? Got those nose guards on snug? Now just stand still. The beaks can't get through the wire mesh none. I want you to look close at the change of color on the Humming Nose-Pecker's face when it gets frustrated. Turns a flamin red, it does. But don't swat at it! It flies away by firing off a spout of gas that don't smell too good, I can tell you. Grown men have been known to faint at the smell of it. Alright, then. Enjoy!"

He swung the cage door wide open and stepped aside.

One of the odd colorful things zoomed right up to Giselle and began furiously pecking at her mask. She couldn't help stepping back. The urge to swat at it was almost irresistible.

"OUCH!" cried Pansy, whose mask had somehow slipped down to her chin. She cupped a hand over her nose and swatted wildly at the feathered red-faced assailant.

"No not that!" roared Hagrid.

Everyone downwind from Pansy was coughing and waving their hands, which only made the situation worse. A cloud of horrendous stink spread in the breeze as a flock of frightened hummers swarmed overhead.

Giselle retreated backwards, her nose guard flung away and her hands covering her face; fingers spread to watch the melee.

She bumped into a boy behind her.

His arms encircled her waist and hugged her firmly.

"I say, I've got you! We're all right here, I think. The birds are heading away from us."

Roger wasn't letting go of her. His hands were quickly becoming very friendly. She was blushing hotly and trying to untangle herself from him without seeming offended or ungrateful.

"Thank you, I'm fine," she kept saying, forcing a laugh that turned  into a cough as the wind changed direction.

"Oh ripping!" said Roger in a disgruntled tone. "This way, Gee, I've got you!"

It must've been something like faerie feet magic, for suddenly Giselle found herself with her back against the rear wall of the hut, shocked and panting. Roger stood facing her, gripping her shoulders tightly, painfully. "I can't wait any longer," he said.

Just as his open mouth touched hers, a swarm of Nose-Peckers screeched by.

Giselle thought she was going to be sick. She dodged away from the doubled-over Roger and ran stumbling across the lumpy grass to her book bag. (Draco was hopping, coughing mad. "My father will hear about this!") She snatched up the bag and staggered her way up the slope, her mind stuck on the image of Roger's intense eyes.

"Gee's got the right idea!" yelled Bea.

And she, Lori, Deidre, and Felix went running up the slope, laughing hysterically.