tw: mentions of death and torture

THALIA WINGER HAD BEEN MURDERED BY BLOOD PURISTS. Malka had read the note from Bitsy informing her first, and the second page of the Prophet had made a small remark on the passing of the novelist.

Malka put a mental note in to write her husband and offer condolences, but she didn't feel much connection to the writer. After all, during her mother and Mrs. Winger's wine-filled conversations, her mother would always send her to her room, not wanting her to be near alcohol. But Mrs. Winger had been killed, and if her books had not been topic enough, the means of her death certainly were. Malka's stomach sank as she read. Tortured before killed, the article had said, and for the first time, they had named a suspect; a name Malka was unfamilar with.

Her heart seized in fright. Thalia Winger had been murdered because she spoke against blood prejudice. The war was truly turning people into monsters, and Malka needed to get her copy of Mrs. Winger's book out of her room as soon as possible.

"Oh, no, the writer was killed?" Cass picked up the paper, eyes wide.

"What happened?" Clorfan peered around his girlfriend's shoulders as she read the paper.

"This writer Malka knew; she was killed by those Death Eaters for writing about blood rights," Cass said worriedly.

"Oh," Clorfan cleared his throat awkwardly. "-Er, Malka, I'm so sorry-"

"-It's alright, Clorfan," Malka said quickly, taking the paper back from Cass.

She got up and left with a worried look from Cass. She normally sat in the back of the Great Hall, anyway, so it was easier to make a quick exit. No one looked by as she made her way past, as the first people had started to trickle away from breakfast to their morning classes. Malka's mind buzzed.

Mrs. Winger had been taken from her bed, and her body, showing signs of the Cruciatus Curse, had been returned at her doorstep. This wasn't just a clean kill, it was a statement. A statement made to incite fear, to create chaos. And Malka knew she only had a two more years at Hogwarts, soon she would be out of the school walls and into wartime, with a name that carried so much hate and horror behind its letters.

The air got sucked out of Malka's lungs as she rammed straight into a taller body. She struggled a bit to regain her balance as did the other person, as the person she'd bumped into, evidently a boy, stepped on both her shoes as he separated himself from her.

His head shot up with a flip of his dark hair, eyes gleaming with anger. "Watch where you're going, mudblood," he spat.

Malka swallowed her anger down as usual, but was prepared to nod her head curtly before leaving, but then she saw his hair. It was short, but she knew. The way it shone in the torchlight. And she looked at him, and he looked at her, and she saw his eyes, and immediately froze in her shoes. For those were the eyes of the woman who had raised her.

"I- I'm sorry," she stammered in shock, and at the sound of her voice, the boy's blue eyes widened, and Malka's world slowed down as her panic dialed up to a hundred. Oh, Merlin, he's going to recognize me, was the thing she chanted in her mind.

Her cousin's brows gave the tiniest scrunch. Disgust morphed into confusion in his mind, and Malka's eyes were as wide as they could be as she hurriedly took a few steps forwards, bumping into his shoulder again as she walked, almost ran, away from him.

Malka's heart pounded in her chest, she really did not need this today. He really looked like his father, her uncle. And then, by extension, her mother. Five years of avoiding him; she really couldn't have waited another three months before running into him? She couldn't've waiting until he graduated? But no, she'd ran into Thorfinn Rowle, and she couldn't be more worried about it.

-

Malka was still reeling from what happened that morning, even in Care of Magical Creatures.

"Whatever you do, do not ride the unicorns! They are extremely spiritual and will only offer their aid in very specific circumstances, and not that of a class setting! Only work with them to gather the toadstools!" Kettleburn had yelled behind them.

They were supposed to collect five toadstool mushrooms each over the next day and a half, and use the bonds they had built with their respective unicorns and have the unicorns sense where the toadstools were. So the class split up into their groups, and Malka and Reg walked lesiurely through the Forbidden Forest, Prancer trotting ahead of them.

"You seem distracted today," Reg said. The extra few days in the Hospital Wing before being discharged had done him good, and there was some color to his cheeks. "Is it because of the Daily Prophet article?"

"Yes," Malka admitted, hands hung at her sides in her very practical overalls. She had even shed her red cardigan for the occaison, knowing she would be tromping through the woods.

"...Would you like to speak about it?" Reg asked her, hands shoved in his pockets but being used as he talked. "I will not judge you,"

"That's kind, but I think the last thing you would want is someone else's worries," Malka said with a small smile, flashing it at him.

Dappled shadows were cast from the sunshine above, and the occaisonal brown leaf crunched under their feet. Compared to Malka's casual outfit, Regulus was still in his coal-black class robes, a collared white shirt creeping at his neck and polished black shoes at his feet. They probably repelled mud or something, Malka would never have brought out her navy Mary Janes for a walk in the Forbidden Forest.

"-What?" Reg said, befuddled. "Er- no. You listen to me quite often; I should return the favor. It is what friends do, as they say,"

Perhaps it was the stressful emotions that made her tipsy turvy, and caused her to say what was next. "Is 'friends' all we are to you?"

Reg almost tripped over a fallen branch in surprise, and Malka's heart skipped a beat in shock at what she said. "Erm- I,"

But Prancer's whinny interrupted both of their train of thought, as he had stopped walking. Weird, Kettleburn had just said that unicorns didn't typically give aid.

"Oh! Two toadstools," Malka said, furiously not making eye contact with Regulus as she scurried past Prancer and plucked the two red-capped mushrooms before placing them in their basket.

"Good job," Reg said choppily behind her. Malka tucked her hair behind her ear, and they went the rest of their assignment without words aside from clinical terms, their interactions wrought with tension and awkwardness once more.

-

Malka was upstairs on the Astronomy Tower, staring into her notebook. After she'd melted down the Fool's Gold, her potion had solidified, and now she was looking down at a mustard-yellow clumpy powder. It had Fool's Gold, mistletoe berries, crushed quartz and bezoar, malachite and unicorn horn. In front of her was another mix she'd asked Professor Slughorn if she could borrow ingredients for (he'd eagerly agreed when she told him it was an Alchemy project, and cheekily winked at her before remarking that her father would be proud), a mix of Restoration Draught and Anti-Paralysis Potion. 

The constellation Pisces shone above her, only visible from Scotland in early spring. Malka shivered, a few winter winds nipping at her exposed cheeks, but she shoved a few more lumps of coal into her cauldron stand. Theoretically, this should work. Some of her notes were copied from her advanced alchemy book, some were of her own making. Her liquid mix was already portioned, about ten shares each of a half-stone worth of Potion. 

"Apollo abluet magiam," Malka said, loudly and clearly as she poured the first batch into the powder, as she called upon the stars. 

She closed her eyes. She wasn't supposed to bear witness to the inner workings of mysterious, unknown raw magic, it was disrespectful. But even through her slitted eyelids, she thought that perhaps the stars and moonlight grew a tad brighter? Malka felt around blindly for the next bowl of Potion, saying the words again before she poured it in. "Apollo abluet magiam,"

She hoped she didn't spill any. Repeating the process again and again, Malka felt a small buzz in her ears, which traveled down her spine to her stomach. Like butterflies or bees, it hummed inside her, and renewed her eagerness. The moon and stars had given their approval, and Malka squeezed her eyes shut in thanks before reaching for the next bowl. ""Apollo abluet magiam,"

"Apollo abluet magiam," and was that a bubbling sound from her cauldron? Malka didn't dare look. According to the famed alchemist Mary the Jewess, Mother Magic's working was beyond what any wizard or witch could ever come close to, and it was not only pointless but a great offense to try and witness or achieve her acts. 

Six more bowls, six more chants, and Malka felt as if she was a lamp, and someone had lit her up with creeping fire. A buzz of contentment filled her chest at last. Malka counted to ten, then opened her eyes.

Everything was the same as before, except her cauldron had flickered out. But it was no matter, as Malka rushed to peer over its edge. And her powder was now finer than spun sugar, with little crystals that were blood red in color. Her Healing Powder, hers. And now it was time to put it to the test.

hope you liked the chapter! the story's pacing will pick up from here.