The Tip of the Iceberg
The letter was burning a hole in Leah’s pocket the entire train ride back to school. Not physically, of course, but it might as well have been. This was the “surprise” that her dad had had waiting for her at home, but she hadn’t opened it yet; she was scared to look at the contents, knowing who had written it.
The train rumbled steadily along its tracks, and Leah slumped lower in her seat, not even bothering to watch the wheat fields that touched the sky as they flew by the window. She didn’t want to be comforted by their tranquility; the way the yellow of the stalks joined seamlessly in harmony with the blue above. She didn’t want to open that letter and read what her mother had written to her before her death. But if she was to have any privacy while reading it, this was her chance.
Sighing, she carefully removed it from the inner pocket of her winter coat, holding it like a precious ancient artefact. The paper was a bit wrinkled from many abandoned years, but the small, sloping letters in bright blue ink were the same as she remembered.
Do it now, the voice of her subconscious whispered.
But what if it’s bad? She silently replied. What if whatever’s in here is horrible? Why else would Dad have kept it from me for five years?
He said he found it only after you left; it wasn’t on purpose. And what if it’s good? Great, even. What do you have to lose?
I don’t know. That’s the problem.
Trembling, she slipped a finger beneath the seal and slit it open, dropping the single folded piece of paper onto her open hand. She unfolded the note and read the short letter, her eyes growing in wonder at each passing word. And when she was done, she replaced it back in its envelope, hid it in her pocket, and waited for the world to stop spinning around her.
The rest of the train ride was just as long as the beginning. Sean stopped by about three hours into it and they chatted for a bit. By the time the large green engine pulled into Balfour Station, it was dinner time and she just wanted to find her bed and sleep until next week. She pulled her trunk down from the overhead compartment, picked up Soot in his cat basket, and had hardly taken two steps from the train when a voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Ms. Andrews, will you come with me, please?”
Leah turned around to see the Headmistress standing behind her, a strange look upon her face. It was the sort of look that made Leah wish she could run far away in the opposite direction.
“Is something wrong, Professor?”
“I’ll explain on the way,” she declared, and without further instruction started to walk away from Leah, who had to run to catch up. They strode briskly down the dirt path leading to the castle, hurrying past the rest of the students heading to the Great Hall. “Leah “ may I call you Leah?”
“Of course, Professor.”
“Thank you. Leah, your friends, Mr Weasley and Ms Seward, were coming back from the library late last night and happened across a dementor that had somehow found its way onto the grounds. Do not worry, they are perfectly fine “ nothing that a bit of chocolate cannot fix “” Leah must have looked as confused as she felt, because McGonagall quickly backtracked. “Do you know what a dementor is, Leah?”
“No,” said Leah. “What are they? Are Gwen and Cory ok? What happened?”
“Dementors,” said McGonagall solemnly, “are dark creatures, amongst the foulest that walk this earth. They feed upon happiness, upon your most treasured memories, until nothing but every negative feeling or thought you have ever experienced is left. When they are around, they will force you to relive your worst memory “ even if it is one you do not consciously remember. If they can, they will ‘kiss’ you, which is what we call it when they suck out your soul. They used to be used to guard the Wizard prison, Azkaban, before they sided with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named during the war.
“They are definitely not the type of thing that you would normally encounter at a school, for instance.”
One sentence stuck out in her terror-stricken mind. “They’re not ... it didn’t “ Gwen and Cory still have their souls, don’t they?”
“Yes, yes. Of course they do. They are perfectly safe now “ resting in the hospital wing “ and getting quite anxious to be out of there, might I add. I thought you might worry if you didn’t see them at the feast.”
Well, she was worried now. But she kept this to herself; you just didn’t go around talking back to somebody like the Headmistress.
“I still don’t understand, Professor,” said Leah. “How did this thing ... this dementor, get on the grounds in the first place?”
“That, I am sorry to say, I cannot answer. We have every conceivable type of ward and protective enchantment surrounding the premises; Aurors guarding every entrance. If I knew the answer to that question, Ms Andrews, I would rest far better at night.”
They entered through the front doors and spent the rest of the walk to the hospital wing in silence. “I trust you can find your way now,” said McGonagall when they had reached the door. “I must leave you here; there is a feast to supervise.” And with a swirl of her robes, she was gone.
She was met with a double cry of “Leah!” when she pushed open the hospital wing door. Cory and Gwen were sitting up in two beds beside each other, munching through a huge mound of chocolate, looking very much alive and with souls intact.
“What happened?” Leah asked as she quickly took a seat between them.
“Well, Cory here, decided to play hero by chasing the psychotic professor, and almost got us both killed,” sneered Gwen as she glared at Cory
“We wouldn’t have been killed,” he replied, rolling his eyes.
“No, only have had our souls sucked out! Not really that much better!”
“It’s not my fault!” said Cory indignantly. “If you were my friend “”
“Oh, really ...” drawled Gwen. “Who decided to go after Masen, and who suggested that we not? That makes this your fault! And how in Merlin’s name are we friends? Friends don’t fight so much over stupid, little things like we do. The only thing that we have in common is that we’re friends with Leah!”
“Guys,” moaned Leah. “Please stop. What on earth does Masen have to do with this?”
“What doesn’t he?” muttered Cory. With an indignant huff, he turned his back to Gwen.
Now Gwen rolled her eyes. “We were in the library, researching, when we saw Masen exiting the forest; it looked suspicious, to say the least. Cory started to run after him and I followed, trying to stop him. We had almost made it to the front doors when, out of nowhere, a dementor appeared in front of us!”
“That’s pretty much what McGonagall said,” said Leah.
“We just stood there and ... we saw our worst memories play out in our minds,” said Cory in a low voice. “I was seven and my little brother had begged me to take him flying on a real broomstick for once, not a toy one. My parents didn’t know, and when they came out and started yelling at him to come down ... he fell. He was in the hospital for three days ... He almost “ he almost d-died.” He shuddered.
Leah felt her hand rise to cover her mouth in shock. “Gwen, what did you see?”
“Nothing as bad as that,” she answered. Her eyes flitted sympathetically at Cory for a brief minute; he didn’t notice. “Just my parents fighting ... that’s all. They hardly ever fight, so when they do it’s always bad. I was really young at the time of the memory, and I was hiding in my room under the covers with my hands over my ears. That’s it, that’s all I saw.”
“We both passed out pretty quickly,” continued Cory. “Madam Pomfrey said it was because we’re so young, and the dementor was nearly on top of us before we were found. But right before that happened, I heard someone shouting and I looked up. Someone was using this spell, and it drove the dementor back. I didn’t see the person’s face ... but they saved us.”
Nobody spoke for a long time, and then Leah remembered what Gwen had said earlier. “What was Masen doing in the forest; isn’t that forbidden?”
“Yeah,” Cory nodded. “That’s why I wanted to go after him. I have a theory “”
“Which is ridiculous,” interrupted Gwen.
“I have a theory,” repeated Cory, “That Masen is really a Death Eater in disguise, and he went in there to, I don’t know, communicate with all of his Death Eater friends or something.”
“Cory, come on ...!” exclaimed Leah.
“Like I said “ ridiculous,” snorted Gwen.
“Why would you think that, Cory?”
“Well, think about it “ what other option is there? He’s cruel, although we know he acts really nicely and all towards the other teachers; he was nowhere to be seen the morning the sword was stolen; his eyes have changed colours multiple times, as if a glamour charm has worn off them; and he’s going into the forbidden forest alone at night. It’s obvious that he’s up to something.”
“That doesn’t mean that he’s a Death Eater,” said Leah. “I admit that some ... well, a lot of that stuff is strange, but you can’t go making assumptions “”
Leah stopped speaking abruptly as the heavy hospital doors swung open again. McGonagall entered, accompanied on one side by Professor Thomas and on the other, by a tall red-haired man with burn scars covering his arms and neck.
“Dad!” Cory exclaimed, sitting up straighter in his bed.
“Cory!” the man with the burns called. “You’re okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”
The trio of adults approached, and Cory’s dad ruffled his son’s hair affectionately before resting a hand on his shoulder.
“You really are a Weasley through and through, aren’t you?” he muttered. “Any one of your aunt or uncles would’ve done the same ... just run off into the unknown. I’m just glad that you’re safe; you really scared your mother and me.”
“Sorry.” Cory hung his head.
“Minerva,” said Mr Weasley. “How did a dementor get onto the grounds? This school is supposed to be the most secured in all the Northern Hemisphere!”
“Charlie, I don’t know,” she replied. “But what I would like to know is what these two “” She indicated Gwen and Cory. ““ were doing by the front doors so close to curfew when they should have been in bed?” She stared sternly at them down her long, thin nose.
Cory looked to Leah, and then to Gwen, who just shrugged in answer. “We “ we were ... we were following Masen,” he answered.
“Excuse me?” said McGonagall, her eyebrows arching up on her forehead dramatically.
“We saw him exiting the forest through the library window,” said Cory more forcefully. “Nobody’s supposed to be in there. It looked suspicious. He looked suspicious!”
“It’s true, Professor,” Gwen agreed hesitatingly. “He was rounding the lake by the time we saw him; dressed all in black like he wanted to blend in with the night; definitely coming from the forest.”
“We think he’s a Death Eater under glamour charms,” said Cory.
“Cory thinks that,” said Gwen. “But still, there is something just ... wrong with him. He’s cruel to all of the students, Cory in particular, and he “”
“That is enough!” McGonagall shrieked suddenly. Her lips had thinned into a near-invisible crease and she gripped the metal railing of Gwen’s bed with a fatal force. “There are absolutely no D-Death Eaters in this school. How you could ever accuse someone of such a thing “!”
“That is a serious allegation, Cory,” said Professor Thomas quietly. He had been so silent before that Leah had almost forgotten he was there.
“Professor Masen is a fine individual,” continued McGonagall. “Besides the fact that the war was over before you were even born, Mr Weasley, and you have no further proof other than that you think him cruel, he has never done anything to warrant such suggestions! Why, it was Professor Masen that cast the Patronus over you and Ms Seward last night, and at the risk of great expense to his own life!”
The words had barely left her mouth before the three children were exclaiming, “He what?” in protest.
“Unfortunately, it wasn’t strong enough to become fully corporeal,” said Cory’s father. “But he did manage to push it back to outside of the gates. If he hadn’t found you ...” He shuddered violently at the thought.
“What’s a Patronus?” asked Leah.
“The Patronus Charm is the only known defence against dementors,” said Mr Weasley. “It looks like a bright, white light and it can scare a dementor temporarily away. If it is cast properly, it will take the form of an animal that you may feel a strong attachment or connection to; if it’s weak, then it will only create a type of shield between you and the dementor, like Professor Masen’s did. It’s a difficult magic to master; not all witches and wizards are capable of it.”
“I believe it is time we allow these three to rest,” whispered McGonagall. Her voice was still unnaturally shaky. “Maybe in the morning, they will be able to think more clearly.”
“Yes, that sounds like a good idea, Minerva,” Mr Weasley said. “Cory, I’ll be among a group of old Order veterans stationed around the school for extra security, so if you ever need me ...”
“Thanks, Dad,” he murmured.
“Ms Andrews, curfew is in an hour,” said the Headmistress. “I will request the kitchen staff to bring up some dinner for you three here, but after that, I expect you back in your dormitory.”
“Of course, Ma’am,” agreed Leah.
When all the goodbyes were said and done, and the adults had left, the three children finally relaxed, breathing out sighs of relief as they met each others’ gazes across the beds. When food was brought up they picked at it silently, not talking, until Gwen said maybe a lifetime later, “So Leah, how was your holiday?”
“Nothing as exciting as yours,” she said with a smile. “No dark creatures or psychotic teachers ... but my dad did give me this.” She retrieved the letter that she had tucked away on the train and handed it to her. “It’s a letter that my mom wrote me when I was little “ my dad found it in a box of her old things a few months ago.”
“Oh.” She moved to give it back but Leah shook her head.
“Read it “ out loud. Go on.”
“Are you sure?” Gwen asked. But she carefully removed the letter from its envelope and smoothed it out so she could read the loopy handwriting.
“My Leah,” began Gwen, and then she paused, looking uncertain. Leah gestured for her to go on.
“You may be wondering why I am writing to you like this when I could tell you in person, but you’re still too young to understand, I think. One day you will need to know: you show all of the signs, just like my little brother at your age. And, I may not always be around to tell you for myself when the time finally comes, so that’s what this letter is for.
“I love your father, but he would understand even less than you, perhaps, and so I cannot tell him either, not yet. The truth is, Leah, that you are magical: a witch. Just like your Uncle Jesse was a wizard. And one day you will receive a letter explaining all of this to you too, but I want you to know, that you’re not alone in this family; it’s not just you. And I’m sure that you will love that world, Leah “ one that I’ve only been privy to second hand “ just like Jesse did. Every year he would leave for school in the States and come home with piles of unbelievable tales to tell.
“You never met your Uncle Jesse; he died long before you were born. Because, you see, while there is beauty and wonder and magic in that world, there is also more danger than anywhere else. More greed, more pride, more want. It was this danger that killed my brother in their wars, and I can only hope to warn you, before it devours you as well, because I cannot see an end to their fighting any time soon.
“When you join them, Leah, remember that you are not just theirs’, but ours’ too; you always have a second world to turn to when things become too much. Don’t forget.
“All of my love, Mom.”
Gwen slowly handed the letter back to her. “I “ I don’t know what to say, Leah.”
She laughed. “Yeah, that was my first impression when I read it, too. It’s interesting “ about my uncle, I mean “ but ...”
“It’s not exactly important,” Cory finished softly, and Leah nodded again.
“You’re right, it’s not important. But that reminds me “ I haven’t asked you guys yet about how the rest of your holidays went?” There was no need for her to explain any further.
"Not much better,” said Gwen, frowning. “Those books in the library were next to useless. They talked a lot about the war and Potter and You-Know-Who, but no speculations on where they might’ve gone: it’s as if everybody wanted to pretend none of it had ever happened. We made a whole list of those known not to have made it, and people whose bodies were never recovered. We even tried asking Hagrid, but he wouldn’t tell us anything. He kind of ... closed up ... when we mentioned the war, and then he kicked us out.”
“We’ll try again later, I’m certain that he knows something,” said Leah.
“But we do think we know where the snake came from,” said Cory. “It was Voldemort’s pet “ Nagini, he called it. But we don’t know how it got here or who killed it.”
“And now you believe that Masen is a Death Eater,” she concluded. She could feel a headache coming on; the stresses of the day catching up to her.
“Yes.”
“I still don’t believe it, but I guess he could have had access to the snake, if that were the case,” suggested Gwen. “But it still doesn’t explain how the thing’s dead now.”
“Everything just got a whole lot more complicated, didn’t it?” sighed Leah, and neither of them could disagree.
The wind whipped menacingly deep within the woods, the night’s only sound. There were no signs of life other than him: any chirping of crickets, or rustling of woodland creatures. Tonight, the forest was dead.
He entered the clearing, and found the one he was to meet awaiting him, his black hood drawn up and shivering stupidly in the chilly air. He forced himself to reign in a sigh of frustration over the increasing incompetence of servants these days.
“T-the a-army is ready, my L-lord,” snivelled the man, falling to his knee in a low bow.
“Quit your stuttering, Collins,” he hissed impatiently. “Is the dementor back in its place?”
The man only trembled harder, but at least his voice was steady. “Yes, Sir. All safe and sound.”
“Good. And the men ...?”
“They “ they are getting anxious, my Lord; eager for this to be done. I ... I have heard rumours “”
“Which are?”
“Some of them ... well, you must understand, my Lord, that some of them do not see why we are here, staking out a school. We already have Hogwarts. And if you just wanted the boy, there are surely easier ways to do it, without focusing all of this manpower on it. You could’ve let the dementor have them, instead of maintaining appearances.”
“It was not ... completely me, who saved them,” he admitted, then whispered smoothly; calmly, “So, you agree with these men then, Collins?”
“No, Sir, of course not, Sir: I know you must have a reason!”
“Which I do,” he answered, “And the rest of you would do well to remember that; I shall deal with them later. But as for now, our plan is set “ we will move in a matter of days. There are people in this filthy excuse of a hovel whose presence I will not stand much longer. You are to get the others ready for full combat, by the end of the week if possible.”
Collins nodded, still on his knee, and then his eyes jerked upwards and eyed the long, unkempt fringe of black hair peeping out from under his master’s hood. “A-and the other, my Lord? What about him?”
He smiled cruelly. “Oh, I’m going to make sure that he has a front row seat to this particular show.”