‘How d’you know this guy?’ Cassie asked almost immediately after take-off.
‘McVey? He’s working for the Ministry’, Elena explained in a whisper, ‘he came to interview me a short while ago, together with Ansgard Periwinkle.’
‘A smooth one, isn’t he?’ Cassie filled champagne into the delicate glasses, spilling quite a bit in the process. ‘Bit too glib for my taste ���’
Elena was on the verge of telling her what Jack had had to say about the man, but thought again. She didn’t know what McVey could hear out there in the coach box. Plus, she was distracted by staring out of the window. The carriage had risen high into the air and the city of London was now not much more than a wide brown expanse, interrupted by patches of green and parted by the winding course of the Thames. Once in the air, the ride was as smooth as in a Boeing 747, but unlike the latter, this vehicle wouldn’t pollute the air with galleons of kerosene.
For almost half an hour, the two young witches sat in the carriage, sipping champagne and gazing outside. Elena felt extremely glad for Cassie’s company. On her own and after all she had experienced in recent months, following an invitation from a complete stranger would have worried her, she might not have followed it, but with her new friend at her side it was no more than a welcome diversion from routine and she saw that Cassie enjoyed the whole thing, too. Yet, she wondered what was awaiting. What could the Crowley woman possibly want from her? And more importantly: how did she know of her?
‘Would you like to be rich?’ Cassie asked, surveying the interior of the carriage.
‘No. I’m afraid it would turn me into a consummate asshole.’
‘Me too, probably. I guess it takes a very strong personality not to be corrupted by money, doesn’t it?’
‘Honestly, I have never met anyone that strong ���’
They exchanged meaningful glances and spent the rest of the ride in companionable silence. Actually, it was a little longer than the thirty minutes advertised by McVey, but eventually, when Elena peeked out of the small carriage window again, a coast line had come into view, choppy grey water slapping a thin white strip of beach. The adjoining grass-and woodland was hilly, dark green and looked soaking wet even from above. Stringy rain came down in droves. The carriage started on a slow descent, circling above a seaside village and zooming in. The touchdown was much softer than Elena had anticipated, and only a few seconds later the door to the carriage was drawn open.
‘Everything alright, ladies?’ McVey asked brightly.
‘What, did you expect us to puke all about this precious thing?’ It was obvious that Cassie was bothered by the man. Elena nudged her in the side and smiled radiantly at McVey.
‘We’re fine, even if not quite as sober as when we took off.’ In fact, the champagne had climbed to her cheeks and she could feel her face give off waves of heat.
‘Nothing a short walk in fresh air won’t resolve’, purred McVey, ‘and I’m afraid we’ll have to walk quite a bit as we had to land in a discreet place, for obvious reasons. The manor is a little less than half a mile from here. Unfortunately, it’s drizzling ���’
‘Why don’t you Apparate us to the front door?’ Cassie demanded raucously. Her cheeks, too, were burning.
‘I wouldn’t deprive you of the exquisite pleasure of walking the distance’, was McVey’s smooth reply as he turned to once more lead the way. Behind his back, Cassie made a mock-haughty face at Elena and the latter bit her tongue.
‘Where are we?’ she called at McVey’s back.
‘Just outside of Lyme Regis’, he shouted over his shoulder, leaning into the wind as he walked on. ‘Have you heard about it?’
‘Only in novels’, Elena replied, thinking of Jane Austen and John Fowles.
‘Isn’t that quite a touristy place?’ asked Cassie. ‘Daring location for a wizarding home ���’
‘There are, of course, spells on the estate to make it very difficult for Muggles to find’, he replied. In spite of his small size, his strides were swift and full of energy. ‘And if they ever stumble upon it, all they will see is a house half in ruins and signs warning them off due to danger of collapse.’
They walked on through the drizzling rain over wet dead grass and soaked ground. The air tasted distinctly salty. The hippogriff carriage had landed between two hills that provided good cover. One of those hills they now climbed, and when they had reached its top, a large house came into view in the valley below. In fact, to call it a ‘house’ was a crass understatement. To Elena, it looked more like a small castle made of brownish bricks with turrets and crenellations ��� Tudor style, if she wasn’t mistaken. A large well-tended park with a pond spread out in front of it while dense woodland provided the backdrop. It was a splendid view, even in dreary weather, and certainly didn’t look like a ruin. To reach the house, they had to pass through a copse of dripping birch trees. The carpet of leaves of the ground smelt mouldy. Although the house could already be seen, the path leading to it was winding and long, and by the end of it, moisture had once more seeped into Elena’s boots. Fortunately, by this point they were already walking up the front steps of the house. The door opened as if, and very probably, by magic. A grand hall came into view, with two sets of curved stairs leading up to a gallery, luxurious carpets and vases on mahogany pedestals. House-elves stood to attention, and just as they entered, a tall and trim female figure in a floor-length dress glided down the stairs to meet them with a dazzling smile. Her eyes were blue and wide, her hair an impressive mane of black curls. Elena felt as if she had entered the setting of a Merchant Ivory movie with a little wizarding twist.
‘Welcome to Abrasax Manor! I’m so glad you were able to join me.’ Her voice carried to the last corner of the hall, but it wasn’t shrill. The woman who must be Magrathea Crowley, the witch lady, came towards them and surveyed them with a knowing smile. ‘Now who of you two beauties is Miss Horwath?’
A quick glance passed between Cassie and Elena before the latter stepped forward. ‘That’d be me.’
The dazzling smile deepened. ‘It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I have heard to much about you!’
‘You have?’ Elena had a hard time keeping the suspicious note out of her voice. It was due to the shiver than ran down her spine. Something was not right. She stared at the refined hand that lay in hers, then up at the smiling face of their unexpected hostess. Elena estimated her to be in her forties and she was without doubt a beautiful woman, so beautiful in fact that it made the ‘you two beauties’ comment from a moment before appear ironic. Magrathea Crowley was the kind of woman who entered a room and immediately commanded all attention. She also exuded calm, self-assuredness and seemed friendly enough. Yet, for some reason Elena’s skin crawled.
‘Of course’, Magrathea Crowley said and met Elena’s eyes squarely, ‘and I have specifically heard about your bravery. As it seems, you crossed swords with a number of scoundrels recently. That is quite impressive, considering that you’ve only just started your studies of magic.’
Elena digested this. So the woman knew quite a bit about her. Well, not too much surprise in that. Jack Daysen’s mishap with Volodimir Leshnikov had, after all, been in the papers and there had also been mention of a ‘young student’ helping the Hogwarts Professor out of a tight spot or two. However, the Prophet had never mentioned her name. On the other hand, their hostess’s husband worked for the Ministry. He might have let his wife in on a few things that were not common knowledge.
‘Thank you’, Elena said a little stiffly and went on to introduce Cassie who was cordially welcomed by Madam Crowley. Magrathea Crowley then proposed to proceed to the conservatory where tea had been prepared. Suddenly remembering McVey, Elena glanced over her shoulder and looked around. However, the small man had vanished without a trace. She and Cassie were alone in the grand hall of Abrasax Manor with a Witch Lady and her army of house-elves.
The way to the conservatory was once more a long and winding one.
Magrathea Crowley led them through corridor after corridor that appeared to switch direction at will. They went up a flight of stairs, then down another, passed a flight of lavishly furnished rooms upon which followed another long line of corridors. At some point, Madam Crowley smiled apologetically at Elena and Cassie. ‘You will have noticed that this is a true wizarding house. It has its own will. Today it appears to be in the mood for a tease. Sometimes even I cannot find my way around. However, we’re almost there now.’
They walked down another corridor. On either side, there were innumerable doors, all looking identical, all shut. On the left, another corridor diverged, but this one was very narrow and also very dark; anyone walking down its length would almost have touched the walls with their shoulders. In spite of herself, Elena stopped and gazed down the corridor as if into a sinister and suffocating tunnel. It had a door at its end, and this door was different from the others in being very low and arched. It was also painted a dark blood red. Elena stared at it and found that it was difficult to take her eyes away.
Suddenly, Magrathea Crowley was at her side.
‘This corridor leads to the oldest part of the house’, she informed her visitor brightly. ‘In the Middle Ages, there used to be a small monastery in this place. However, it was destroyed when Henry VIII established the Anglican Church, and this house was built over it, but the crypt is still intact. A ghastly place, though. I never go there.’
Elena smiled politely. It took some will to tear her eyes away from that blood-red painted door.
Magrathea Crowley’s prediction that the conservatory wouldn’t be far off turned out to be right. After another turn, they entered a large room enclosed by glass panes streaked with rain. There were plants everywhere, growing high and reaching the glass ceiling, and Elena saw a fascinated gleam appear in Cassie’s herbologist eyes as she beheld them. In the middle of the room, a steaming pot of tea waited on a low table around which squashy armchairs were grouped. With an elegant gesture, Madam Crowley bade her two guests to sit down and be comfortable. A house-elf poured the tea and brought a plate of cucumber sandwiches while another one showed up with scones, jam and clotted cream.
While Cassie and Elena were perched on the edge of their chairs, Magrathea Crowley took the largest armchair and sat down looking like a picture, hands neatly folded on her lap and continued to beam at her two visitors.
‘You have a beautiful home, Madam Crowley’, Cassie said politely, ‘I like your plants. Some exotic specimens here.’
‘Oh, so you’re an expert?’ Magrathea made a delighted face. ‘Have you noticed my Syrian flytraps?’ She pointed to a bush of beautiful blossoms with fangs that hissed when they sensed the attention. ‘They can be deadly, even to humans, but they also provide one of the strongest antidotes available in the wizarding world.’
‘I know’, murmured Cassie and there was awe in her voice.
Magrathea Crowley turned her smile on Elena. ‘I’m very glad you have obviously found a friend’, she commented lightly, ‘and a competent one at that.’
Elena didn’t know what to say and sipped her tea which was strong, sweet and delicious, even to her who wasn’t exactly a tea aficionado.
‘It must be very difficult for you’, their hostess went on, ‘finding your place in the wizarding world when you’ve only just started to learn about our ways.’
‘It has its perks’, Elena said noncommittally. She suddenly felt what Jack must very often feel when he was challenged to comment but couldn’t come up with anything that was socially acceptable. In fact, the only question in the forefront of her mind was a very bleak ‘What on earth do you want from me?’
‘Surely you have made the best of it so far’, said Madam Crowley. ‘Like I said, you have shown extraordinary bravery in recent months, considering that you were so haplessly involved with thugs, thieves and killers.’
‘If there is one thing I have learnt, then that the wizarding world is a much harsher reality than the Muggle one’, Elena said.
‘Indeed.’ Magrathea’s eyes lingered on her. ‘It is one thing for a Muggle-born child to be slowly introduced to the wizarding world, but quite another for an adult who has already found a place in her or his life. ��� Tell me, what is it you have been pursuing so far?’
Glad to be on safe ground, Elena gave Madam Crowley a short summary of her educational background and explained that her studies of linguistics were almost finished, the only thing she had to do was to present a master thesis ��� which she intended to do on Magical Realism in English-and German-language literature (an idea which she had only recently conceived of, and for obvious reasons) ��� and then she would be free. Her hostess listened attentively.
‘I commend you for wanting to finish your studies first before you dip deeper into the wizarding world’, she said.
‘Oh, I’m already dipping quite deeply’, Elena assured her. ‘I have a good teacher.’
‘As everyone knows’, Magrathea Crowley said with a fine smile. ‘May I ask how you found Professor Daysen?’
‘He found me’, Elena explained and bit into a cucumber sandwich.
‘I see. ��� Of course, his reputation as a teacher is undisputed. I hear that he is not the most pleasant of wizards, but certainly effective.’
‘I cannot complain.’
Magrathea’s eyes were on Elena, and they were probing eyes. ‘Actually, Miss Horwath, I asked you here today to talk about your education.’
Elena’s eyebrows shot up. ‘My education?’
‘Your education as a witch, of course.’ Madam Crowley leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Elena as if she wanted to see into her soul. ‘See, I don’t want to intrude because you’re old enough to make your own decisions. However, I am also guessing that there are possibilities that perhaps you don’t know about.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Please don’t take this the wrong way, Miss Horwath’, her mouth became an apologetic little moue, ‘but I want you to know that you don’t have to let Professor Daysen teach you. There are other ways.’
Again, Elena’s skin started to crawl and again she had the uncanny feeling that something was not right. She didn’t know what it was, though. Magrathea Crowley looked at her perfectly amiably and there were charming little wrinkles around her wide-spaced blue eyes. However, it was this face that set Elena’s teeth on edge, but she wasn’t able to put her finger to it. ‘Why are you telling me that?’ she demanded quietly.
‘I don’t wish to interfere with your decisions’, Magrathea said quickly, ‘but I think it is perfectly reasonable to assume that you are not too well informed about the opportunities the wizarding world provides for late starters such as you? Have you, for instance, heard about the Crowley Academy?’
‘I have’, Cassie piped up. ‘It was in the Prophet a few months ago. It provides further education for witches and wizards.’
‘That’s right. It is situated in London and recently we have introduced a programme for adults who were ��� for some reason or other ��� not able to study magic during their student days. We offer all the standard classes ��� Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology and Potions. The schedule is ambitious and demanding, but not unfeasible for someone willing to put their mind to it. Someone like you, for instance.’
Very slowly and to give her hands something to do, Elena put down the sandwich and stirred her tea. When she looked back at Magrathea, she was bathed in another bright charming smile. What the woman had said sounded innocuous enough. Why on earth did it make Elena’s body hair stand up?
‘That’s good to know’, Elena said eventually, ‘but as you obviously know, I’m in good hands.’
Madam Crowley tilted her head. ‘I don’t doubt what you say, Miss Horwath. But surely, Professor Daysen’s time is limited, considering that he has a full-time job at Hogwarts?’
‘So far, this hasn’t been an obstacle. Also, I’m quite an autodidact. The Professor usually teaches me the
basics of any given spell or procedure and I practice on my own.’
‘That’s marvellous!’ Magrathea said warmly. ‘Actually, it makes me think even more that you could profit immensely from our programme which is tailor-made for independent learners. I’m sure you won’t mind if I give you some brochures?’
Elena shrugged. ‘Won’t hurt looking at them’, she murmured.
‘That’s what I say.’ Magrathea’s words were a satisfied purr and she gestured to one of her house-elves. The small creature disappeared with a sharp crack, only to reappear a few seconds later holding a stack of coloured parchments in its hands which it placed on front of Elena with an awkward curtsy. She quickly surveyed the rolls. They were the wizarding equivalent to glossy sales literature and showed the Crowley Academy ��� an imposing Edwardian-style building ��� on the front, pictured in bright sunlight and with throngs of students walking towards it, chatting happily. And there she had been thinking that pushy PR was an abomination exclusive to the Muggle world ��� ‘By the way’, Madam Crowley went on, ‘it is not exactly easy to get into the academy. We have quite demanding entry exams. ��� In your case, however, we would make an exception, seeing that you have already commended yourself as a vast talent through your recent adventures.’
Elena stared at the papers in her hands. She had the distinct feeling that the woman was manipulating her and trying to push her into a certain direction by praise and mollycoddling. However, she didn’t see the purpose. She pushed the parchments back onto the low table.
‘I’m sure you mean well, Madam Crowley’, she said and tried to sound as smooth as McVey had, ‘but like I said ��� I’m in good hands.’
‘So you’re happy with your present arrangement?’
‘Completely happy.’
The smile had gone from their hostess’s face and she considered Elena thoughtfully. In fact, she appeared to have completely forgotten about Cassie’s presence. She started to talk again only after a while. ‘Like I said, I don’t mean to intrude, Miss Horwath. What you do is entirely up to you, and if you’re satisfied with your present magical education, then that’s that. ��� I can’t help wondering though ���’
She whispered Page 23
