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CHAPTER EIGHTY SEVEN - 🍂 the ୧ . . .
day has come ও🦌

"PROFESSOR SLUGHORN LOOKED TERRIFIED at whatever you said," Autumn reiterated as she lowered the drawing in front of her with a firm gaze.

"And while it might seem like a jump, it was clearly something that shook him," she continued in reference to the reaction that the Professor had to deal with Elliot.

"I discovered that I can draw things that are about to occur..." her voice trailed off slightly as she held him captive with a hard glare.

"But from the look of it, it apparently already happened."

Elliot gripped his fist and looked away. His eyes closed before he turned to her with a broken stare," It's something you can't help with. No matter what you or the others say. I have to do this."

"You won't ask any of us for help?" Autumn repeated his response as a statement in a final attempt to sway him.

Elliot shook his head and closed his eyes, clearly not looking to bend his stance even under her prodding and pressure.

"No. Maybe not now, but maybe one day," was all he would offer in response.

...

Autumn jolted upright in her bed, her face damp and her heart pounding. The memory of her past encounter with Elliot had resurfaced, the vision of him meeting Slughorn in her drawing replaying in her mind. Glancing to the other side of the bed, she found it empty. She exhaled deeply, resting her head on her palm that was perched on her bent knee.

The house was eerily silent, its emptiness emphasizing the absence of James, who was still out with Sirius. Autumn, left alone in their shared home, felt a pang of loneliness as the solitude settled in.

Autumn's heart weighed heavier as she dwelled on her loneliness, missing Aspen. Her daughter was safe, but the house's emptiness deepened her heartache without James.

Autumn suppressed the pain of missing Aspen, aware that it was safer for their daughter to be elsewhere.

Autumn suspected that the memory wasn't merely a random resurfacing—experience had taught her to assign significance to her dreams. The thought of Elliot and that memory after all these years puzzled her, and she couldn't shake the sense that there was a deeper reason behind the sudden recollection.

"No. Maybe not now, but maybe one day,"

Realizing that trying to fall back asleep was futile, Autumn decided to head downstairs to the kitchen. The thought of a warm cup of tea to soothe her nerves and help her sleep seemed appealing.

Down in the kitchen, she quietly rummaged through the cupboards for her favourite tea bags and prepared a calming brew.

Leaning against the countertop, Autumn blew gently on her steaming mug of tea, allowing the warmth to envelop her. The silence of the empty house felt less oppressive now as the gentle fragrance of the tea filled the air.

Autumn's attempt to soothe herself was interrupted by the sudden onset of a throbbing headache and a blurring of her vision. Almost instantaneously, she was engulfed by the memory she sought to bury—the recollection of the diadem she had once drawn. The nightmare-inducing image returned, flooding her mind with a torrent of unpleasant emotions.

The vivid recollection of the diadem's image seared her mind, stirring up the harrowing emotions she had tried so painstakingly to forget. The nightmares it had brought about were not just dreams, but a vivid reliving of the torment she had endured. The memories seemed to linger, refusing to fade away.

...

Each time she closed her eyes, horrifying images of the unknown diadem would flash across her mind, accompanied by the faint whispers of curses.

The visions of darkness and despair were so vivid, they seemed to linger in the air long after she opened her eyes. With each passing night, the nightmares only grew more intense and relentless, haunting her with their elusive mysteries.

James reached out and gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his touch gentle but firm. "Autumn, you know you can tell me anything," he said, his voice filled with concern. "You shouldn't have kept this from me."

Autumn looked up at him, her eyes filled with guilt and regret. "I know," she admitted softly. "I should've told you, but I didn't want to burden you with it. It's just... the nightmares are bad, James. Really bad."

James's expression softened even more as he heard the fear in her voice. "Bad how?" he asked gently. "What exactly do you see in these nightmares?"

Autumn shuddered at the memory of the vivid nightmares she'd been having. "It's... it's hard to describe," she said, her voice trembling a bit. "But there's always this... this scream that echoes in my head. It's shrill and agonizing like someone's being tortured or hurt."

James's eyes widened with concern, his heart clenching. "And then what?" he prompted quietly.

Autumn squeezed her eyes shut as if trying to block out the memories. "Then there's this blur of images," she said, her voice growing quieter. "It's like I'm seeing through some kind of distorted lens. I can make out a dark cave and... and this shadowy figure. It's always there, lurking in the background."

James reached out and took her hands in his, his grip firm but comforting. "And what does this figure do?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It... it just stands there, watching," Autumn replied, her voice filled with a mixture of fear and frustration. "But it's not just watching me. It feels sinister like it's waiting for something to happen."

...

As the memory subsided, Autumn inhaled sharply, her teeth clenched tightly. She ran a trembling hand through her hair, trying to steady her breath and compose herself. The harrowing recollection had left her feeling unsettled and overwhelmed.

Her teacup clattered to the floor as Autumn found herself overcome with a powerful urge to draw. Without a moment's hesitation, she fled the kitchen and dashed into her study, frantically searching for her sketchbook. The urgency to create consumed her as she sought to channel her emotions onto paper.

Grabbing her sketchbook and a pencil, Autumn quickly sat down at her desk and fumbled through the pages until she found a blank one. Holding the pencil in her trembling hand, she began to draw with a fierce determination, channelling the emotions stirred up by the memory of the diadem into her sketch.

As her pencil continued its rhythmic scrawl across the paper, Autumn's focus intensified. The sketch began to take a familiar form—her own being standing and engaged in conversation with Professor Slughorn. However, the image held a perplexing twist that left her disoriented. In her drawing, she was seen wearing her old Hogwarts uniform, indicating that this scene was not unfolding in the future but in the past.

Autumn clutched her head, attempting to recall any past interaction with Professor Slughorn that would align with the image she had sketched without realizing it. The drawing depicted Slughorn looking fearful, suggesting the conversation held some weight or significance.

Frustration seethed as Autumn desperately searched her memory for the encounter with Professor Slughorn. But no matter how hard she tried to recall, nothing came up. It felt as though her memory of the event had been erased. However, an intuition deep within her whispered that it

was more than just a random occurrence. The gnawing feeling that something significant was amiss refused to be ignored.

With a flicker of hesitation, Autumn steeled herself, knowing that James would likely object to what she was about to do—particularly given his knowledge of its impact on her. With a deep breath, she lifted her pencil, its tip hovering over the paper. Drawing the cursed diadem, the source of her past torment, required immense courage.

A chill ran down Autumn's spine as her hand moved over the paper, sketching the intricate details of the jewelled crown. A heavy weight settled upon her heart as the ominous presence grew stronger with each stroke, and the cursed whispers echoed in her mind once more. But it was not the whispers that sent a shiver down her spine; it was the shadowed figure, its gaze penetrating her very soul.

Despite the overwhelming dread that consumed her heart, Autumn knew she had to persevere. An inexplicable urge deep within her soul compelled her to continue drawing the cursed diadem—a sense that she needed to unravel its mystery. The anguish coursed through her, but she gritted her teeth and pushed through.

With every stroke, the drawing took shape more vividly, the diadem's malevolent energy seeming to pulse from the page. The whispers grew louder, the shadows more menacing. But Autumn refused to yield, drawing with a fierce determination that surpassed her fear.

Her hand trembled as she added the finishing touches to the sinister diadem. Every detail seemed to breathe a life of its own, the jewelled crown seeming to gleam with a sinister light. The whispers had now grown into a cacophony of voices, surrounding her in an eerie chorus.

The whispers continued to bombard her—an overpowering force that nearly consumed her thoughts. Yet, deep within the noisy cacophony, she managed to detect a faint whisper, one that seemed to hold the answers she sought. Concentrating intently, Autumn pushed through the chaos, focusing on the soft whisper that seemed to hold the secret she needed to unveil.

The whispers faded, and amidst the chaos, a single voice rose above the others—clear and distinct. "The Ravenclaw Diadem," it whispered, sending a chill down Autumn's spine.

The words echoed in her mind, a revelation she had not anticipated. The Ravenclaw Diadem—a piece of the puzzle that she had been missing. What connection did it hold to her encounter with Professor Slughorn?

With a sudden surge of intensity, Autumn felt her hand clench the pencil tighter, the muscles in her arm tensing. It was as if her hand moved on its own accord, determined to fill the blank page on the opposite side of the sketchbook. The rhythmic scratching of the pencil on the paper filled the air, a flurry of strokes that seemed to possess a will of their own.

Autumn's focus was impenetrable as her hand dashed across the blank page, each stroke adding to the image taking shape before her eyes. The whispers faded into the background as she poured her energy into the fervent drawing, her hand seemingly guided by an unknown force.

As the face of Regulus started to take form on the page, a mixture of recognition and disbelief washed over Autumn's features. But it was the revelation of his location that truly stunned her—her eyes widening in shock. The realization hit her like a thunderbolt, prompting her to jump up so abruptly that the chair behind her toppled over with a loud thud. She discarded the pencil and made a beeline for the door, her heart racing with urgency.

When she flung the door open, there before she stood Regulus, his presence unexpected and inexplicable.

Startled, Autumn froze for a moment, her heart skipping a beat as she lay eyes on Regulus standing there at the threshold of the front door. The scene unfolding before her was surreal and overwhelming—the drawing she had just drawn vividly depicted Regulus in a specific place, and here he was, standing in front of her.

Regulus studied her intently, his gaze filled with curiosity and surprise. It had been a few years since they had last seen each other, and in that time, Regulus had clearly gone through considerable changes. But even within these few years, the influence and effect of his family's associations with the Dark Lord were evident in his appearance.

"You expected me," Regulus said, his voice filled with a quiet certainty.

Autumn nodded in response, "I just drew it," she answered, a hint of disbelief in her voice.

Regulus' penetrating gaze lingered on her for a moment before he posed a question, his voice serious. "Do you know why I'm here?"

Autumn, taken aback by his unexpected visit and the intensity in his voice, hesitated before answering. However, the word "Diadem" slipped out before she could stop herself.

As soon as the word left her lips, Regulus' eyes widened visibly, and he acted swiftly, swiftly pushing her into the house and closing the door tight behind them. He stepped back, creating a slight distance between them.

"Sorry," Regulus apologized, his expression serious, "It's probably not safe to talk out there."

Autumn stood in her home, her heart still racing from the sudden rush of events. She was baffled by Regulus's sudden appearance and the cryptic nature of his words. The mention of the Diadem seemed to hold significance and weight, but she could not decipher the underlying meaning.

Regulus heaved a sigh and asked, "Have you found the location?"

Autumn looked puzzled and responded, "It's a lost diadem. No one alive has seen it. People aren't even sure if it's real."

"It is very much real," Regulus asserted.

Autumn looked up at him, "Alright, it's real, but..." She paused, confusion flickering across her face. "Why is it so important?"

Regulus was silent for a moment, his eyes closing as he collected his thoughts. He seemed to be assessing how much knowledge Autumn had about the situation, and the look of confusion on her face made it clear that she had yet to understand the full significance. It seemed that her journey in discovering the truth was not yet at its conclusion.

"Reg—" Autumn attempted to speak, but Regulus cut her off.

"Talk to Slughorn," he instructed, his tone firm.

Autumn's expression turned to one of bewilderment. "About what?" she replied, puzzlement etched on her face.

Regulus shook his head in response, unable to provide a clear answer. He quickly moved towards the desk where Autumn's sketchbook lay open. Picking up the pencil, he scribbled something on a blank page, ripped it out, and handed it to her.

The blank page now held—an address, but nothing more. Confused, Autumn looked up at Regulus for an explanation, but she realized he was gone. The room was now empty, and she was left standing there, holding the piece of paper with the cryptic address written on it.

Autumn exhaled a quiet "Merlin..." to herself, her breath a mixture of bewilderment and weariness.

Although unsure of what she was even looking for, she now had a clear objective—to talk to Slughorn. Perhaps doing so might help her make sense of the strange turn of events.

It dawned on Autumn that before she could reach Professor Slughorn, she would need to have a conversation with Dumbledore. Simply strolling into Hogwarts unannounced would not only cause questions but would be outright impossible, given the heightened security within the school. Furthermore, none of her former professors had knowledge of the Order, adding an extra layer of secrecy and subterfuge to her mission.

With newfound determination, she made up her mind to speak with Dumbledore first. The conversation had to be handled carefully, as the wrong words could raise suspicions and jeopardize her entire mission. Only Dumbledore had the authority to grant her access to Hogwarts, and only he could help her figure out what she was supposed to discuss with Professor Slughorn.

Autumn understood the importance of being circumspect. Telling James or anyone else was out of the question, even though she couldn't pinpoint the reason for her certainty. Despite the unknown reason, she knew deep within that maintaining secrecy was crucial and disclosing her intentions would be a mistake.

Her determination was steely as she braced herself for the unknown, knowing that her journey would be a solitary one. She understood the importance of secrecy, and the thought of revealing her purpose to anyone, even to her closest confidants, filled her with a strange unease. It was clear that the fewer people who knew about her mission, the better, and she was prepared to face the challenges that lay ahead alone.

As Autumn planned for her journey, another concern came to mind—the thought of James. She knew that he cared for her deeply, and the possibility that he might try to locate her, especially as the time spent away from him grew, caused her worry. She silently hoped that he would resist the urge to act rashly and respect her need for space and secrecy.

Autumn silently acknowledged that despite James' trust in her, she knew him well. Throughout their life together, whenever she was troubled, he never pressed for information, patiently waiting until she was ready to talk. He understood the importance of giving her space, even if she was not yet ready to share her worries with him. This thought reassured her, knowing that even if James was concerned about her absence, he would respect her need for solitude.

...

It took a few days for Autumn to find an opportunity to speak with Dumbledore alone. Between his demanding responsibilities as Hogwarts' Headmaster and the crucial role he played as the Head of the Order, Dumbledore's schedule was packed. On top of all that, there were undoubtedly many other matters he had to attend to. However, FINALLY, she managed to find a moment of privacy to talk with him, one-on-one.

Autumn found herself seated with Dumbledore, and for a brief moment, she paused. The extent of the wizard's knowledge was unclear to her, and the thought of asking for his consent to go to Hogwarts left her uncertain about whether it might lead to an unwanted interrogation.

She took a deep breath, gathering her composure before speaking. "Headmaster Dumbledore, could I make a request, please?" she asked, a polite and respectful tone in her voice.

As Dumbledore watched her countenance, he leaned back in his chair, a flicker of interest crossing his gaze. He gave a small gesture, indicating for her to go ahead, his attention undivided and focused on hearing her out.

Autumn took a deep breath and continued, her words careful and measured. "I need to go to Hogwarts," she said, her voice steady. "There is something I need to discuss with Professor Slughorn that I believe is important."

Dumbledore didn't reply immediately, his gaze fixed upon Autumn, contemplating her words and the steadfast look on her face. He took a moment to consider her request before asking, "May I ask, what purpose does this conversation with Professor Slughorn serve?"

Autumn shook her head, her expression sincere as she spoke, "I cannot be dishonest; I truly do not know why I need to talk with Professor Slughorn, all I know is that once I am there, I will understand."

Dumbledore looked at her intently for a moment, then moved a hand to his beard, running his fingers through it. He narrowed his eyes and inquired, "Is this related to a drawing you've made?" Autumn nodded, and Dumbledore knew better than to press for more information. Having experienced firsthand the reliability of her drawings.

The Headmaster understood that Autumn's drawings had been beneficial to the Order on numerous occasions, and he trusted that this occasion would be no different. With a deep understanding of her drawings' significance, he was willing to trust this one would not fail them either.

Dumbledore silently continued to observe Autumn for a moment before he responded, not wanting to press her for information she clearly did not have. He knew there was much to uncover and the answers may be discovered at Hogwarts once she spoke with Professor Slughorn. So quietly he agreed," I understand."

Autumn nodded, silently expressing her gratitude for Dumbledore's understanding. With a soft smile, she asked, "So, Headmaster, may I have your permission to go to Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his gaze still locked on her. He took a moment before finally responding, "I will grant you permission," he said, his voice as calm and level as always. "But, on one condition" he added.

Autumn took a deep breath, and a small sigh of relief escaped her lips at Dumbledore's agreement. She nodded in acknowledgement of his decision, but then her expression changed to one of curiosity as he added a condition.

Dumbledore noticed the subtle changes in Autumn's body language and her expectant gaze, signalling that she was waiting for him to elaborate on his condition. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing, "Before you leave for Hogwarts, I must ask if you have informed your husband, James, about this."

The room was silent for a moment as Dumbledore observed Autumn closely, his words hanging in the air. He waited for her to respond, curious to know if she had shared her plan with James, her husband.

Autumn pondered for a second, contemplating whether or not to share the truth. But she knew Dumbledore was not a person who would be easily fooled. In response to his question, she gently shook her head, reluctantly admitting, "No, I haven't informed James. He—he doesn't know."

Autumn fell silent, listening intently as Dumbledore proposed his solution. After a momentary pause, he nodded in acknowledgement, and stated, "Then I shall inform him that I've tasked you with a mission."

She exhaled, a mixture of relief and unease coursing through her. She knew that hiding this from James would be difficult, but at least this way, he wouldn't feel like she was leaving him out in the dark.

Dumbledore's words weighed heavily on her mind, but she nodded, thankful that he was willing to help her keep this situation hidden from James. Despite the guilt of concealment, she recognized the need for secrecy and trust in Dumbledore's reassurance.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Autumn replied, her voice laced with a hint of gratitude. She took a deep breath and made a mental note to figure out how to explain to James once she returned without revealing the truth.