Evelyn came back at lunchtime, as she had promised.

In the meantime, Alya had already devoured the first chapters of the little adventure book that Harry Bennet, the Muggle child who lived in the house, had lent her. Little Black was immediately aroused by the story, from the very first lines, and the time she spent immersed in reading slipped by quickly, without her even realising it.

Evelyn helped Alya out of bed and accompanied her downstairs.

They went to the kitchen, which also served as a small dining room, and it was located just below the stairs. Next to a wall there were a cooker, a fridge and shelves holding various pots, pans, glasses and mugs. In the middle of the small room there was a table, laid as best as possible, with a large plate filled with stuffed sandwiches and glasses, placed in front of the chairs.

Harry emerged from the next sitting room and sat down next to Alya.

''Sandwiches... What news!'' he exclaimed wryly, addressing his mother.

''I haven't had time to cook a proper meal, what with everything going on in this house-- '' replied Evelyn, as she served the children a white plastic jug full of water. 'Come on now, eat up!'

Harry immediately pounced on the sandwiches, grabbing one with his hands. Alya looked at him puzzled; she had never eaten without using cutlery, strictly made of fine silver. That was certainly the most bizarre lunch she had ever attended.

Alya tried to imitate the little boy. She seized a sandwich and took a bite, savoured its fresh taste. Evelyn really was an exceptional cook, almost better than Kreacher, as Alya noted.

Suddenly, Evelyn turned to her son, continuing her busy tinkering with the cooker and dishes.

''Harry, Amelia should be here soon, so when you're done, go and tidy up in the living room over there. All your toys are scattered about!''

''Okay'' he replied listlessly, his cheeks full of food.

''Who's Amelia?'' asked Alya.

''A friend of mum's... she's a bit of a weirdo. She thinks she's a fortune-teller''.

''A fortune-teller?'' repeated Alya, widening her eyes in amazement. She knew perfectly well what a fortune-teller was, but it sounded terribly strange to hear that word from a Muggle mouth.

''Yes, she reads cards, palms and such. To me it's just a load of rubbish, a way to get money out of people... But mum believes in such a things, so...'' he left the speech hanging, hinting at his disapproval.

Indeed, Alya thought to herself, even in the wizarding world, seers and fortune-tellers were often regarded as mere charlatans, earning their fees by making bogus predictions. Apparently, it was a widespread practice also among Muggles.

''Alya, would you give me your home phone number? I really think I should warn your parents that you are here. Who knows how worried they are!'' Evelyn suddenly asked Alya, rousing the girl from her thoughts about fortune-tellers.

Alya paled.

''Um-- we don't have a-- phone'' she answered uncertainly.

''What? You don't have a phone? Now how am I supposed to get in touch with your family?'' Evelyn exclaimed appalled. Alya didn't know what to reply. Surely she couldn't propose an owl to send a letter. Moreover, she feared the muggle woman might ask her questions about the place where she lived. That would have been trouble: how would Alya explain that her home was the building beyond the forest where she was found? That building appeared to Muggles as an old, abandoned ruin destroyed by time.

Little Black knew perfectly she would have to come up with something plausible.

Fortunately, the doorbell rang, postponing the problem.

''This must be Amelia,'' announced Evelyn, in a trilling voice, hurrying to the door. Harry rolled his eyes in disappointment. He seemed not to like the arrival of that guest at all.

After a few seconds, Evelyn was back in the kitchen, in the company of the strangest and most grotesque lady Alya had ever met.

The woman, although heavy make-up and flamboyant clothing tried to disguise it, must have been quite old. Under the several layers of foundation cream appeared deep wrinkles around the corners of her mouth and eyes, also painted with a heavy hand by thick lines of black pencil. Her lips were covered with a scarlet lipstick, which badly suited her age. Hair was sparse and dyed black, styled as best as possible with a pincer clip. From her ears hung heavy, round, light blue earrings. Their weight stretched the lobes unnaturally.

The body, rakish as if it had been drained, was wrapped in a turquoise dress, matching the earrings, which if worn by someone like Evelyn, would surely have enjoyed greater glory. On the old lady, instead, it appeared like a bathrobe hanging on the wall.
The wrinkled hands, whose nails were the same shade of crimson as the lipstick, held a canary-yellow handbag which visibly clashed with the jumble of mismatched colours.

''Come Amelia, have a seat here in the kitchen for a moment. It's such a mess in there, in the living room-- Harry go clean up right now!'' Evelyn said, shooting a reproachful look at her son, who grunted with a mouthful still in his teeth.

''Would you like a cup of tea?'' she asked, as the old guest sat down in the chair next to Alya. Her watery eyes lingered curiously on the girl. Seen so close up, the woman appeared even more unpleasant and grotesque.

''Who is this delightful creature?'' croaked her voice, ostentatiously affected, widening her mouth into a broad smile. Alya noticed lipstick stains on her teeth, many of them false.

''This is Alya, the little girl I told you about on the phone''.

''What happened to you, poor dear?'' asked the old woman, stroking the bandage on Alya's head. The touch of that wrinkled hand caused her a shiver of disgust. She cast Harry a meaningful glance, which he returned with a look of the kind I-told-you-so.

''We found her passed out in the woods last night. She must have fallen and hit her head,'' Evelyn explained hastily, as she served Amelia a cup of black tea.

Amelia replied with a sympathetic look, directed at Alya. The little girl shuttered.

''Come on, Harry, let's go over there and get some order!'' Evelyn ordered the child dryly. ''It's a matter of a second, Amelia. You drink your tea in the meantime,'' she added, in a gentle tone.

Evelyn and Harry disappeared into the room beyond the stairs, separated from the kitchen by a peach-coloured curtain. Alya was thus left alone, in the company of the strange lady who was unable to put on her make-up properly.

She felt a little uncomfortable. And annoyed. Amelia posed as someone who practised magic, but it was clear she didn't understand a fig about it. Alya watched her in awe, outraged by her presence.

"Something wrong, little darling?" the old woman asked in a sickly voice which sounded highly contrived.

"I was just wondering-- Harry told me that you can read the future by looking into people's hands, can't you?" asked Alya, in a defiant tone.

"Yes, I can". Amelia answered calmly.

Alya looked at her grimly.

"Would you like to try?" the old woman proposed, throwing her a complicit smirk.

"Why not." agreed Alya. She was curious to see what Amelia was capable of coming up with. Certainly Alya wasn't going to be fooled. She was a real witch.

"I have no money."

"First one's on the house," croaked the old Muggle woman amusedly.

Amelia grabbed Alya's left hand and opened it in front of her heavily made-up eyes. She spread her palm wide and took a long look at the lines which furrowed her skin, as if weighing difficult words from a book.

"Mmm, let's see-- the life line is long, good sign. Love, also, presents a positive curve-- you will soon meet the man of your life-- uh, what have we got here? This dash-- a son. Yes, you will have a son with this young man-- within your twenties I would say-- not bad, not bad." Alya listened to her pretending astonishment, but inside she laughed at the fibs the old woman was clearly making up.
However, Amelia didn't care for the little girl's judgement, and counted her predictions as a shopping list.

"A reconciliation, a large family. A united and happy family. You have a good future ahead of you, my dear!" she concluded contentedly.

Alya also promptly held out her right hand.

'The other hand too, please,' Alya urged her.

Amelia acquiesced and repeated the ritual. She opened her palm and fixed her faded eyes on the lines.

The old muggle woman froze. The wrinkled face suddenly lost its expression of mock friendliness and warmth, veiling itself in a mournful shadow. She turned her gaze to Alya, gloomy and frightened.

"What is it?" asked the frowning child. That charade was getting on her nerves.

"I see you-- when you'll be seventeen years old," the fortune-teller said in a dark voice, without adding anything else.

"So what? What do you see?" Alya's voice had become aggressive.

Amelia didn't answer immediately. She seemed to be pondering whether she should reveal to the girl what she had seen. The old woman casted Alya a gaze shadowed by terror and anguish.

Finally, Amelia whispered, in a sepulchral voice:

"Death. I see death".

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Hi beauties!

Something strange happened to Alya, in this part. What do you think about the weird fortune-teller, Amelia? And about the prophecies she told Alya?

I hope you enjoyed this chapter^^

XOXO
Valentina ❤