CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

THE HEADMASTER OF ILVERMORNY dismissed us all then, a flick of his hand spared to us as he turned away to speak to Professor Jebediah Keystone—the defense against the dark arts teacher at the school. I saw the lines of their faces contort slightly as they exchanged a conversation inaudible to others around them. There was a certain sense of urgency in the way they talked hushed, and I couldn't fully decipher it when Bridgette called my name, running up to me and turning my attention away.

"C'est bon," She hurried, holding my elbow. "C'est bien, d'accord? Two less days of practice won't hurt you, you'll catch up."

I looked at her, disbelief etched in my features. "Are you still on that? Cela n'a pas d'importance."

I pushed past her, making my way to the exit of the Grand Hall, behind the ranks of the other competing students.

"Yes," Bridgette pressed, catching up to my side. "That is what I'm saying. It doesn't matter."

She sounded relieved as she kept up with my pace, as we navigated behind the leaving students. Everyone dispersed, turning to their respective directions as I took a sharp left and headed to our dorm tower, right behind the like minded Durmstrangs. Viktor Krum was nowhere in sight, and I found myself looking over my shoulder. Had he stayed in? A private conference with Agilbert Fontaine? It was unlikely, considering he had already gotten his punishment and the headmaster would most likely not change it anytime soon. Turning to face ahead, my eyes caught Yordanka Hristova's as she looked over her shoulder—no doubt looking for the form of Krum too.

Her jaw tightened as our eyes met, and she halted in her steps, a furious smirk spreading over her features as she turned around. Three Durmstrangs followed suit. Zubair Dimitrova noticed her absence and he halted too, turning back to look at what had occurred. A look of concern broke through his dark features as he spotted me as well, and he hurried by Hristova's side, his strides long and urgent.

I stopped a few feet away from her, folding my arms across my chest as Bridgette's footsteps stopped at my side.

"You're bold to be saying what you said back there," Yordanka's words were curt, molded by her thick Bulgarian accent and tainted by her venom.

"Thank you," I managed a smile, watching her seethe under my reaction. "I can do better."

"I don't doubt it," She dropped her eyes to her nails, observing them. Though I couldn't fathom what there was to observe so flauntingly, her fingernails were cut deeply short—a feat I observed aided the kind of student she was—knee deep in Quidditch and sports I couldn't list.

"You've clearly done it before."

I offered her another smile at the retort. It didn't serve anything, at least not what she thought it served.

"You're observative," I mused. "Good for you."

The Bulgarian witch grinded her teeth, the amusement vanishing from her eyes.

"What the fuck is going on between you and Krum?" She asked, words like ice strung together in a tight garland.

I could see the hatred in her eyes at the notion, as though the words were not entirely hers and she was being made to say them by an outward threat with a sleek wand pointed to her forehead.

"Why the fuck won't you leave him alone?"

Yordanka Hristova looked like a cacophony of furious patterns at that moment. If all jealousy and hatred could be sucked out from within every shakespearean play and its romantic leads, and infused into one person, he would appear as she appeared at that moment. It made my throat suddenly tight, watching the intense emotions radiate off of her like a thick mist weighing heavy on my shoulders.

"It is Krum, who won't leave me alone," I seethed, no longer wanting to keep up a pretense just to get through her skin. Fuck that, I had far more things to get through at present.

"You lie," She hissed, taking a step forward as Dimitrova grabbed her elbow, yanking her in place.

"I may have," I spoke. "But not right now."

She tried to retrieve her elbow from Zubair's grasp, attempting to lunge at me. "You bitch."

I pursed my lips, attempting to hide the overwhelming amusement I felt. Strange experience, being called a bitch by two Durmstrangs in a single night.

"Yordanka stop," Zubair's voice broke through as he gritted his teeth with the effort of trying to hold her back. I didn't realize how he was leaner than the girl, the former bulkier and with more muscle on her bones than all of Dimitrova's put together. I bet she lifted more days than he did.

"She isn't worth it," He gritted out.

I raised a brow, my eyes falling onto Dimitrova's. His own were flitting, refusing to maintain eye contact. Satisfaction surged through me at that, unlike Viktor Krum, Zubair did not have the belief that I would control myself with magic if provoked.

"I hope you're sure about that, Dimitrova," I let out, my arms falling at my sides, hands tightening into fists.

His little show at Krum's side was still burning in me. That small sly twist of his lips as he attempted to list everything he knew about my magic for Krum to scrutinize.

"Or what?" A new voice blurted out, menacing and deep. Viktor Krum's figure followed, eyes fixed on me in a challenge as he joined Yordanka and Zubair's side, opposing me. His eyes were narrow, his jaw so tight the muscles in them stood protruding out.

Then he stepped closer when I didn't answer, closer until our faces were inches away from each other as his ebony eyes bore into my silver gray ones.

"You've got to stop acting so feisty," He mused, his breath lightly fanning my face. "Couldn't shut up back there could you?"

"No," I answered. "I couldn't. Did I hurt your ego by sharing your blame?"

Krum's lips parted as they broke into an amused grin. His eyes slowly dropped to my lips, before lifting up and meeting my eyes again. He didn't say anything, as his eyes scoured my face, taking in details as I maintained my composure. His irises settled briefly on the small moon shaped birthmark I had beside my right eye. My confidence wavered slightly, a small insecurity I hadn't gotten over still.

Then, he spoke. "You still haven't told me where Gregorovitch is."

His voice had dropped to a thick whisper, shielding our conversation from the Durmstrangs behind him and the few curious students that hung about the corridor, watching the scene unfold with eager eyes.

"Didn't I tell you to bring him back?"

"He's fine," I managed, my anger dissipating into thin air. "He's safer where he is."

Krum's jaw tightened, the resolve on his face tethering at the edge of fury once again. I sighed. Then closing my eyes, I called for Angus. I hadn't checked up on him ever since he left the Fischer house with Gregorovitch. I hadn't felt the need to. I wasn't sure how it would work, and I wasn't sure what all would go into communicating with him. I hadn't marked him like I had Flora Fischer, so I couldn't summon him without his consent, even if it was for communication. But he was loyal to me, so he would consent. That was the entire point of everything Angus had built once he licked off my blood. So yes, I had not enslaved Angus, he had submitted to me willingly. 

Perhaps I was trying to level with myself, coming to that fact boldly and repeating it inside of me. An attempt at trying to convince myself that I was not quite as twisted as I pinned myself out to be. Or was I?

In a trice, my head flooded with visions. A small house, made of dark wood and looking rundown from the outside, nestled on a hill rich with the luscious green carpet of wild grass as a daring sun shone boldly high in the crystal clear blue sky. I felt the warmth of the scene on my face, I felt the rays of the sun lighting me up. Then the vision contorted, lowering towards the house and I saw an engaged Gregorovitch venture outside the house, a straw basket full of wild plants and herbs clutched tight to his chest, eyes fixed ahead in determination as he scoured the landscape in front, searching for something entirely insignificant to me at present.

It was Angus, sharing his sight with me entirely, completely. It was Angus, making me a guest inside his head and showing me all that I had asked him to do, standing guard, conscious and aware at all times, protecting an aging wandmaker who had memories in his brain fit for only a few days.

Still conscious of my own body and mind, I reached my hands up and grabbed hold of Viktor Krum's face, my palms holding his skull at his temples as I lowered him and touched our foreheads. The motion was electric, sparking, and I was afraid the skin on my forehead would burn to a crisp under the impact of how it burned at present. His forehead was warm, and the contact made chills travel down my spine like remnants of fireworks someone had pressed against my skin.

Pushing aside how it made me feel, I grabbed onto Angus' sight again and shared it with Krum, the images of Gregorovitch at peace, hunched over and inspecting wild grown mushrooms at the foot of an old tree, flooding through both our minds. Then, the old wandmaker looked up, glancing back at us—at Angus—and grinned widely, his wrinkled face managing a bright wrinkled smile. Then he offered a dust covered mushroom, holding out his hand to Angus.

That is where I cut the connection off, my heart swimming with relief though I hadn't found myself worrying in the first place. Our minds filled up with our own varying enigmas, and I pulled away from Krum, my eyes flickering open. His eyes were still closed, an expression on his face that resembled a concern being eradicated, a crease in his dark brow slowly disappearing.

His anthracite irises stared at me once his lids flickered open, a look of confusion marred his features then. He had questions, different and more than the ones he had had before, and I felt my heart waver in response. People would always have questions, no matter what you decided to show or tell. They would always pry and prod, and if that didn't work, they would steal.

I turned my eyes away from him, only to find that I had staged a show that only Krum and I had witnessed the inner workings of. Students were frozen around us, Durmstrangs, Ilvermorny and Hogwarts onlookers, and Bridgette and even Elias along with Gabriel and Jean DuBois. My peers were shocked, horrified expressions strewn onto their faces, etched with disbelief and fury. The Durmstrangs behind Krum—Yordanka Hristova—Merlin, she was seething. Her neck was a cacophony of patterns made by bulging veins, and her fists were pale at her side while her eyes burned into mine.

I saw in everyone's eyes what we had looked like then, what I had made this look, and it made the Cornish pixies in my belly go erratic as a warmth crept up my neck. Humiliation coursed through me. How could he have this effect on me still, after everything he said and did to me? I realized then, that I really was the one horribly twisted in angles I couldn't recover from.

Feeling my knees slightly shake, I turned to Krum, only to find the confusion on his face breaking through with an expression I couldn't place. A softer one I had perhaps glimpsed on his face when he had apologized for sifting through my memory, before I had tried to kill him. It wasn't that same expression, but it was a softer look than that of guilt, a lighter one that didn't feel demeaning.

I steeled myself. Krum was a snake, changing colors like snakes never can.

"Gregorovitch is safe where he is," I spoke the words plainly.

And with that being said, I walked past him. The Durmstrangs parted to make way for me, as no one spoke a word. Zubair Dimitrova held Yordanka back as she resisted his grasp in vain, her hard glare fixed on me that would burn through my flesh if magic was an element of the eyes.

I felt footsteps rush up behind me. Bridgette, her petite form bursting with the curiosity and questions I felt would come as soon as I reached our dorm, or perhaps even before.

"Dominique," A voice called behind me once we approached the common room of the east wing dorms.

The dark turquoise carpet of the floor seemed almost black at this time of the night, even as candles burned all around me, wearing the wax down as they flickered, reflecting on portrait covered walls and bookshelves. The creak from the iron chandelier persisted, a soft echo in the environment brought on by the winds swiftly turning inside.

I halted as Bridgette stopped beside me. Elias Dupont jogged up to me from my periphery, standing taut in my way as his eyes heavied themselves with accusation.

"What was that?" He asked, his voice curt, sharp.

"What?" I murmured knowing full well what he was referring to.

"What you did back there with Viktor Krum," He let out. "Merlin, êtes-vous sérieux?"

Irritation coursed through me. "It was nothing Elias, just drop it."

"Drop it?" He exclaimed, brows contorting. "You were publicly cozying up to him just now. The dude pulled a vanishing act just a while ago, he could very well be the reason Maximillian is missing too. Then you went ahead and took the blame for the former?"

"I didn't take the blame," I hissed as Durmstrangs started filing into the common room, throwing us sharp glances as they made their way to the stairs, hoisting themselves to their respective dorms. Yordanka Hristova and Dimitrova followed their peers, with Krum hot on their heels. The latter's head was bent, not noticing us as he disappeared through the stairs.

"I only spoke what happened."

"Fuck, Dominique," Elias snapped in frustration and I startled. Had I ever heard him curse, during all the seven years I've known him?

"You were not the one missing, he was!" He whisper-yelled, "I can't believe none of the headmasters pointed that out."

Bridgette shot me a glance, she knew the reason why that was, as did I of course, but Elias didn't need to, I decided.

"Elias please," I sighed, my exhaustion getting to me. "Drop it."

"Maximillian is missing!" He cried, desperate eyes venturing between me and Bridgette as he tried to catch onto any ounce of worry we might display.

"As was Krum. Don't you believe there could be a connection? Why would you lie for the Durmstrang like that Dominique? Are you and him—"

He broke off, as though the idea was appalling to him to even speak out loud. I wondered why. Elias had never been one to discriminate, could he have gotten too thick into the Huntlock to even consider the possibility of extending a hand towards opponents as sin? Is this why Agilbert Fontaine found it prudent to use the term comrades in arms again and again, because he was anxious that it wasn't being followed despite his very best attempts?

"There's nothing between Viktor Krum and me," I spoke the words, my jaw twitching. "Do not suggest such a thing again, Elias."

He fell back slightly, the steel in my voice wavering his resolve.

"You don't care if a student is missing," He started, eyes observing me. "You're deep into the Huntlock, Dominique, just like Gabriel, Krum and everyone else."

I held back a protest. The Huntlock was the only thing I wasn't deep in at present.

"Elias it's not like that," Bridgette's voice came, schooled to empathy as she touched Elias' elbow. "Dominique cares for Maximillian, so do I. He was our friend—"

"Ne l'édulcorez pas," Elias narrowed his eyes at Bridgette and she retrieved her hand away. "Maximilian was my friend."

I sucked in a breath. "Elias, Viktor Krum has nothing to do with Maximilian's disappearance. Get that out of your head. Have you become so blind in competition to suspect someone so? What would Krum's motive be anyway? Ne sois pas ridicule."

"I don't know," He shrugged, jaw still tight. "To lessen our number, to weaken us."

I closed my eyes in frustration.

"Besides," He spoke up again. "You may be right. But I hope it is Krum. I hope it isn't what everyone says it is."

What everyone says it is. Had I even been at Ilvermorny long enough to overhear conversations, regardless how small and brief they may be? My eyes flickered open.

"Que veux-tu dire?"

"That Hogwarts boy, Cedric Diggory," Elias folded his arms across his chest. "The one that was killed. They say this is the same. The same will happen to Maximillian and his corpse will turn up somewhere in Ilvermorny."

"Don't be stupid," Bridgette muttered, though her voice shook slightly.

"There are rumors that it's his strategy," He continued, eyes bearing into mine. "Voldemort's. He wants to strike at the heart of the wizarding world, and what better way to do that than to wreak havoc by targeting students first. The buds of the wizarding world."

"Elias, stop," I swallowed, but he continued.

"It makes sense, I refused to believe it but it makes so much sense now. The death of that student, the mass breakouts from prison, and now Agilbert Fontaine thinks it's necessary to bring out one of Les dorés to Ilvermorny. Do you even know what that means? The Les dorés do not come out, Dominique, they are living shadows in the wizarding world now. Fontaine is making history with just this move, and Merlin, he must be shit scared to resort to such a thing."

"The entire Hogwarts delegation believes Voldemort is back," Elias ran a hand through his hair. "I heard Dumbledore speaking to Fontaine yesterday, something about thickening security at the castle and Harry Potter not being able to see anymore—whatever that means."

I stilled. Dumbledore really was using Harry Potter's visions to track Voldemort before he pressed the boy into learning Occlumency. Sick bastard. That was why the boy offered to do the same for me, because he had already been doing it. But Merlin, how was he so sure that it really was Voldemort? How were they all so sure?

Comrades in arms. My stomach constricted. Elias was right, it did make sense somehow. If Agilbert Fontaine believed what Dumbledore did, then he wasn't just trying to train us for the Huntlock. He was trying to train us to fight, if need be, like comrades in arms.

It sickened me slightly, but a wide part of me still refused to believe that that night when Krum and I had been drenched in rubble, it was Voldemort torturing Gregorovitch. I refused to believe it was Voldemort who's plans I had thwarted by clearing the wandmaker's head. I couldn't have been in the same room as him, under the same falling roof as him. I couldn't have.

"Elias," Bridgette let out, grabbing his elbow again. "Why don't you go and rest? Tu as l'air fatigué. Maximillian will be alright when he's found, you'll see."

Elias looked at me, a nod moving his head, eyes determined.

"Be careful Dominique, I don't know what you're up to with Krum if you really disappeared somewhere with him. But be careful, that's all I ask."

With that he spun on his heels and headed towards the stairs, climbing his way up the tower to his own dorm that he shared with the missing Maximillian Toussaint. An empty bed to stare at for the reminder of the short night as my friend would toss and turn, and all the while he would think of me and everything I was withholding from him, despite him never having given me a reason to do so. And I wouldn't be there then, to tell him that it wasn't his fault, but mine.

Back in our own dorm, Bridgette retreated to her own bed, sighing as she plopped down on the surface, arms spread out.

"We're still going tomorrow right? To Nurmengard?" She asked, her voice softly floating about the room.

"Yes," I managed, slipping behind the intricate wooden changing screen in our dorm to trudge out of my uniform and put myself into my sleeping attire—crisp silk pajamas that felt like heaven brushing against my skin.

"Why didn't you tell me Dominique?" Her tone changed slightly. "The heuristics? How long have you known you've had it? Did Krum find out when he did his Legilimency on you?"

"I've known for a while," I answered, my voice low as I reappeared from behind the screen and made my way over my own bed, pushing myself in its embrace.

"Wow," Bridgette murmured softly, whistling. "C'est vraiment magnifique. No heuristic witch or wizard for four centuries, and then you appear."

I startled, not having foreseen the admiration when I had expected the latter.

It was true. For me to emerge with heuristics in my blood was no cursed thing like Krum had deemed it to be—like anyone who found out would deem it to be. It was magic, and its source was unknown, the gap of four centuries was unknown. It had made everyone believe the magic had died out, when it hadn't really. It had been reborn through me. I wish I knew why, I wish someone could tell me why.

"C'est magnifique," I found myself speaking, my voice barely above a whisper but audible enough in this quiet dorm amidst the stillness of the night.

"You know what?" Bridgette spoke up again, turning on one side as she lay on the bed, watching me. "I believe now."

"In what?"

"In most things," She answered. "I believe that someone is back and it may be Voldemort. I believe that the wizarding world may really be at risk. I believe that Harry Potter's visions are true and that you are in danger just like he said you are."

"Are you afraid, then?" I asked, remembering how anxious she had been when we had first tranced upon the headline in the Ilvermorny express, a dead student and Harry Potter's claims.

"Terrified," She chortled, an underlying tone of anxiety etched in her voice. "That is one downside of believing, isn't it?"

"Oui," I whispered, not knowing what more to say.

"I hope Maximillian Toussaint is just hiding, I hope what Elias implies isn't true though," She adjusted the pillow underneath her head with a sigh.

A pause ensued, but I knew she hadn't fallen asleep. I could see the glint of her open eyes in this moonlit darkness, both her irises pinned in mine.

"The Elder Wand will help, right?" She asked then, voice hopeful. "If Voldemort shows up, if the wizarding world is threatened. It will save us right?"

I blinked. I hadn't thought of it like that. The Elder Wand would save me, yes, but the whole wizarding world? It was created by death, one of the three deathly hallows forged by none other than death itself. Why would something made by death save the world?

"No," I spoke, "I don't think it will."

Bridgette made a sound, as though I had voiced what she had expected.

"I thought not," She sounded resentful suddenly, as if she shouldn't have believed in hope in the first place. "We aren't doing this to save the wizarding world. You and Krum weren't going to do this to save the wizarding world."

"The Elder Wand is not meant for saving the world, Bridgette," I let out, irritation coursing through me. "You fantasize if you think so."

In a way, we would be saving the wizarding world, if we kept it away from other wizards'—be it Voldemort's—reach.

"Then why all this fuss?" Her voice rose. "Why are you and Krum so desperate after it? I get that Gregorovitch meant for you to acquire it, to protect it somehow. But why if it wouldn't do anything for us in the long run? Why risk everything only to get it when it won't work its magic in our favor?"

It would do everything for me in the long run, Bridgette, and Krum suspects that somehow.

"I don't want you to come with us tomorrow," I spoke instead, a hand subconsciously touching the mark on my shoulder over my silk shirt.

The engraving felt numb to trace, and I wondered why it hadn't burned in a while. Did Grindelwald know I was coming? Was his belief in me so firm he found no need to nudge me again?

"Non, meilleur ami," She affirmed, her tone resolute. "I'm not leaving your side." 

"It will be hard, Bridgette," I pressed. "With Agilbert Fontaine's restrictions on leaving the castle grounds, we'll have to be so discreet. If they notice us gone—"

"You'll think of something," Her voice came, calm and soft as sleep engulfed it. "But I'm coming, Dominique. I think I'll choke to death with worry if I don't."

With that, her lids closed, and she drifted into sleep. I turned away, facing away from her as I gripped the duvet around me tighter. I will think of something, I always do. But with the Les dorés at Ilvermorny and Maximillian Toussaint's disappearance, everything just got harder than it had been before. 

***

A/N:
Shit's about to go down, ahh. Please vote and comment and tell me who your favorite character is so far? I'm trying to update as frequently as I can. I have so much planned for this storyline. Also, please refer to the trigger warnings (in the preface) for the remaining chapters of this book because stuff's no longer light from here on out.