Startling Surprises
Chapter Twelve
Christmas day dawned wet and cold. The snow that had been predicted had turned out to be a steady drizzle that froze to ice on the roads and trees.
The Lestrange Chateau was rather dour. Rabastan had decided to stay at Durmstrang over the holidays, and Rodolphus was spending it at Bode's Abode in London, although he would be present at the party that evening. Mr. Lestrange was locked away in his private quarters. Having thus been left to her own devices, Angelina Lestrange decided to celebrate Christmas in the Blue Room, as it was the most cheery of the rooms in the fortress.
The part of the castle the Blue Room was in dated back to medieval times when the building had served as a stronghold for the family to evacuate to in times of trouble. With its magical barriers and sheer structural magnitude, the Lestrange Chateau had withstood many a Wizarding and Muggle battle. And while its architecture was no doubt ideal for wartime, it did not particularly lend itself to brighter occasions.
However, the house-elves had done their best to make the Blue Room as cheerful as possible. They had slaved the whole night to infuse the room with a bit of holiday festivity. And they hadn’t all together failed.
At least the portraits of Muggle torture that had previously decorated the walls had been taken down and replaced with strands of evergreen that glittered with white fairy lights glowing on their branches. A beautiful tree, that must have taken them hours to decorate, stood sparkling in a corner next the crackling fire. And the gargoyles on the mantle (that had scare Angelina as a child) had been given merry red hats that almost made their bared teeth look like smiles rather than snarls.
Best of all, they had laid a beautiful pile of presents under the tree. Angelina knew her father had sent an elf out to get them for her, but still it was nice. Only poor people said it was the thought that counted, Angelina reminded herself. The wealthy knew better; money could solve anything according to her father. Anyway, she had Chloe and Twinkle to celebrate the holiday with.
“Would you like to pull a cracker?” Angelina asked Twinkle, gesturing towards the bowl of crackers that had been placed on the table in front of the couch. Next to them sat a large glittering hat and some crumpled wrapping paper.
“Oh, no, Miss Angelina. You is knowing how those things is scaring your poor Twinkle,” Twinkle declared with a shiver.
Angelina tossed the cracker back in the bowl with the rest, sighed, glanced at the clock, and slumped back against the couch, dispassionately picking up a book that lay beside her. She gazed in disinterest at the letters, but did not try to read.
“Miss should not slouch so. It will make Miss humpbacked,” Twinkle reprimanded with the authority that comes with having changed someone’s nappies. She had been Angelina’s nursemaid when Angelina was a baby living in England. And while Twinkle had not gone to France with the Mistress; she had sent her daughter, Tinky, to look after the Little Miss. Tinky had killed herself after witnessing the Mistress’ suicide. Miss Angelina had come back to England, where it was once again Twinkle’s job to take care of her.
"Oh, don't nag, Twinkle," Angelina said, but she sat up straighter all the same.
"And," Twinkle continued, "If Miss does not stop stalling she will be more than just stylishly late for her party. Yes, she will. Then Twinkle will never be hearing the end of it from Master Lestrange."
"Alright, alright," Angelina grumbled. "I'm going, but I'm not wearing that ridiculous hat."
She stated pointing to the glittering gold hat that lay at the end of the table.
"Oh, yes Miss must!" squeaked Twinkle. "Master Lestrange is giving Miss that hat as her Christmas present, and Miss is to wear it. Whether Miss Angelina likes it or not."
Angelina glowered down at Twinkle, but the old house-elf, who had raised two Lestrange children already, just snapped her fingers two times and the hat came twirling through the air to land with a gentle plop on Angelina’s head.
"All right, but I'm taking it off as soon as I get there," Angelina grumbled.
Twinkle ignored that and chirped, "Here. Since Miss is to take the Floo, she will be needing protection, she will."
After casting a protective charm on Angelina so that she would not mess up her appearance while traveling, the house-elf shoved her mistress over to the fire.
Picking up a parcel from atop the mantel, Angelina turned to face the fire as Twinkle fished in the many pockets of the hot pad that made up her apron for the Floo Powder. Angelina sighed. She disliked using the Floo Network, as it was both unstylish and messy. However, there was no one for her to Apparate along side of, and Apparition was a magical activity very closely monitored. And very dangerous. Even purebloods did not attempt to break the underage law for this.
“Is Miss ready?” Twinkle demanded as she produced a bottle of Floo Powder. Angelina nodded and soon she was stepping into the green flames and hurtling off to London.
She came out in the Floo Room, a room most well-to-do Wizards had as there was a certain amount of ash and smoke that came along with that sort of travel. Angelina had arrived late enough that the room was deserted. She pulled off the ridiculous hat and stashed it behind a cluster of coats then took a few minutes to tidy herself up by the looking glass, for no matter what Twinkle did her hair always seemed to be in a disarray after Flooing.
“You look charming,” the mirror complimented, which Angelina assumed it was under orders to do.
She glance once more around the room, noticing snobbishly that the mantel was not made out of true marble but simply a cheap synthetic material; threw her reflection one last piercing gaze (to which the mirror replied “lovely”) and exited.
Dolohov's house was a stark contrast to the Lestrange's. Warm and cheery, it was full of people. Angelina saw the boy from the train whom Severus had introduced as Jerold. At the moment he was being praise by a doting plump woman that was his mother, Mrs. Dolohov.
She made a quick stop by Mr. or Mrs. Dolohov to thank them for inviting her, telling them some conventional something about how lovely their party was, apologizing that her father could not make it, and delivering her family’s present.
“And there’s a table full of treats and sweats over in the next room,” Mrs. Dolohov told Angelina, motioning down the hall. “That’s where most of the children are. Feel free to wander about, but stay on the ground floor. That’s where the party is, and Mr. Dolohov has some nasty security charms on the stairs”in case of burglars. We wouldn’t want you to spend your holiday in Saint Mungo’s.”
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Dolohov,” Angelina intoned respectfully.
“Well off you go, and tell your father it was so nice of him to give us that bottle of wine. Mr. Dolohov is quite an avid collector of fine wine.”
Angelina hurried away before Mrs. Dolohov could trap her in a long conversation on the subject of wine. She quickly made her way through the crowd of adults, trying to find Severus. He hadn’t said he was coming, but most families did. However, she couldn’t find him. Instead she ran into the last person she had expected to see.
It was Emma. She was standing off in a corner, pulling nervously at the sleeve of her dress. When she saw Angelina she smiled.
“I thought you might be here. My aunt said your family had been invited.”
Angelina stared blankly. “What are you doing here? They’ll hurt you if they find out what you are. Come on I’ve got to get you out of here. Don’t you know these people hate Muggles?” Angelina panicked as she grabbed hold of Emma’s arm. “You didn’t bring your mother did you?” Angelina asked, looking frantically about.
“Calm down, Lena. Mum’s at home with Chip. I’m here with my dad’s family. My aunt insisted I come. It is not wise to . . . well.” Emma paused. “I brought you a present.”
Angelina took it but didn’t open it. She felt as if she had just been Confunded. All she could do was state the obvious. “I thought you were a Mud “ ”
“A Muggle-born?” Emma cut in. “No. My mum was a Muggle. I grew up with her. She and my father fell madly in love when they were kids . . . but, well, it was a bit of a star-crossed lovers thing. They divorced when I was two; it was a terrible scandal.”
“Why’d she stay here? I mean, why didn’t she go back to America?”
“Chip. He was her director, on stage. And he’s English . . . so.”
“If your family lives here, why don’t you live with your father?”
“They weren’t sure I’d be a witch. And my dad’s career…well he couldn’t have a ‘Squib.’ That is the right word, isn’t it?”
Angelina just nodded dumbly.
“But when I got my letter . . . well now my dad’s family thinks it best if they introduce me to the Wizarding world. My dad’s very busy with his career, so I mainly stay with my aunt. She always wanted a daughter, and she only got one son.”
“Who’s your aunt’s family?”
“The Malfoys.”
“You’re related to Lucius Malfoy!”
“Yeah, he’s my cousin,” Emma said nonchalantly.
“Well, why aren’t you in Slytherin?”
“Only my aunt was in Slytherin. My father was a Gryffindor. He was a little disappointed that I was in Ravenclaw. But it wasn’t unexpected that I was in Ravenclaw “ a lot of my relatives were.”
“Why didn’t you tell me all this before?” Angelina snarled. Now that the information was sinking in, she was angry and a little hurt that Emma hadn’t told her.
“You never asked,” Emma snapped back in defense.
“And you just let me make a fool out of myself. Having a good laugh with everyone else behind my back.”
Angelina was really mad now.
“I never told anyone,” Emma fired back.
“I can’t believe I thought you were my friend,” Angelina bit out without thinking.
“Oh, I was your friend, was I? I thought Mudbloods couldn’t be friends with the mighty Angelina Lestrange, who has a name going back all the way to the Gold Book,” Emma growled, throwing Angelina’s words back in her face.
“Well, maybe you’re right. Here,” Angelina spat, shoving the present back at Emma.
“You know what your problem is, Lena? You always think you know everything, don’t you?”
“Well, you never thought about them. All I ever saw was you and your mother. There wasn’t any thoughts about“ ” Angelina suddenly dropped off, the blood draining from her face.
“What do you mean never ‘thought’?” Emma’s voice was much lower now.
“Nothing. It just came out wrong is all,” Angelina muttered, trying to step away.
“No, I don’t think so,” Emma countered, stepping in front of Angelina, blocking her way.
“Well, that hardly matters. Now, will you let me get by?”
“No. You read my mind,” Emma accused raising her voice.
“Will you shut up?” Angelina hissed, dragging Emma further into the corner.
“You can read minds,” Emma repeated dumbly.
Angelina looked frantically around, but it didn’t appear anyone had heard. Grabbing Emma’s hand, Angelina dragged her down the hall and into the nearest empty room, which happened to be the Floo Room. She pulled Emma behind a rack of coats. It was not until she had cast a silencing charm around them that Angelina whispered, “It’s not really mind reading. Well, at least not like a book. I don’t just flip through the pages and find answers. I don’t get to pick.”
“Huh?”
“It’s like walking by someone who is humming. You don’t pick what they’re humming, you just hear it. It’s the same with me and minds. Well, I don’t necessarily ‘hear.’ Sometimes it’s words, other times it’s more like images. Sometimes I pick up what someone is thinking about. Usually they’re really nervous or sad . . . or angry. Just emotional.”
“So you can’t control it?”
“Well, not really. I just found a book on it in my family’s library. There’s this thing called Occlumency that helps me block it. Otherwise I’m an open unit, I can pick up others thoughts but . . . well, it would be really easy for someone to do the same to me. I even absorb poisons and probably a lot of other nasty stuff.”
“Is that why you fainted the first day of classes?”
“Yeah. It turns out that, according to this book, people can build up their ability to read minds to a point where they can look for certain bits of information. But it’s really dangerous, if it’s just happening naturally. According to the book there are two types of Legilimens: those that have to learn it and those that it just happens ‘naturally’ for. If it happens ‘naturally’ it’s really volatile because the more you’re able to receive the more open and vulnerable you are. The book recommends not searching specifically for things, as the more you search the more vulnerable you become.”
“But you can’t find out certain things.”
“No, not without a wand. If you know what you’re doing you can use a spell and well . . . I don’t know. I’m still reading.”
“So, well . . . how long have you been able to . . .”
“Oh, always.”
“So your parents know.”
“No. Not my father. My mother knew. But you can’t tell people.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not something normal. I mean it’s not a common ability, even among wizards and witches. It’s thought of as, if not a dark art, something not to be messed with. It’s too invasive. If people knew I could . . . without a spell . . . You can’t tell anyone, Emma. No one.”
“No. I promise. I won’t.”
Angelina smiled shakily. “Well, I suppose you weren’t the only one with a secret.”
“I’m sorry for not telling you.”
“I’m sorry for being so mean. It’s just . . . I didn’t want my family to think I was a Blood-Traitor. Why didn’t you tell me about your family before? I wouldn’t have had to pretend to dislike you.”
“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want you to like me just because I wasn’t a Muggle-born. I wanted us to be friends.”
“Well, I wouldn’t mind. If you want. It’s nice having someone who knows, although I think the sorting hat guessed, and maybe even Madam Pomfrey. I’ve never talked about it. Do you think we can share things like this? You know, talk about things important to us?”
Angelina had never had anyone she could trust before, and the thought that she knew someone now was rather heady. She felt as if she had just drunk a whole lot of Butterbeer.
“I’d like that,” Emma said smiling. “Here, you never opened my present.” Emma handed over the brightly rapped parcel.
“Oh.” Angelina looked down at her hands. “Uh, I didn’t bring a present for you . . .”
“Go ahead and open it.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
“You haven’t even seen it. It could be bubotuber pus for all you know.”
Angelina smiled. “You wouldn’t do that.”
“Wouldn’t I? You should ask Potter and Black what they got for Christmas. I co-signed your name. I hope you won’t mind.”
Angelina laughed out loud and hugged Emma. Emma looked slightly startled before hugging Angelina back.
“Thanks,” Angelina whispered, and she wasn’t referring to the present. It was nice”this friend thing.