She whispered

by Lucas Chesterton

Elena wondered about the remark. It wasn’t in Stephen nature to comment on the obvious unless he meant something by it. ‘I like that scene, too’, she said, probing, ‘when he gets that prophecy from the Sybil.’

  ‘It is very well described’, Stephen agreed, ‘I didn’t know Muggles knew this.’

  ‘Graves was a historian’, Elena explained, ‘a very learned man.’

  But it obviously wasn’t what Stephen had meant because he became twitchy again. Not being understood upset him, but he didn’t seem to be able to come up with the right words just now. ‘The Sybils’, he mumbled eventually.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘The Sybils. They are powerful. But their power doesn’t belong to themselves.’

  Elena frowned. ‘You mean ��� they are used? Ab-used?’

  Stephen seemed undecided, he teetered on the spot. ‘Prophecies ��� exceed the individual.’

  She had to think about this before she could make out a meaning. ‘You mean they work for the greater good? Sacrifice themselves?’

  Stephen’s mouth worked. He still hadn’t arrived at what he really wanted to say. ‘Giving and taking prophecies is a sacred process’, he murmured eventually. ‘The Sybil is a sacred transmitter. Her message is sacred. But ��� the whole thing collapses if the recipient ��� isn’t.’

  ‘Isn’t sacred, you mean?’

  A grave nod replied. Elena was by now quite convinced that he was telling her something important, that he might even be hoping that ��� due to the fact that she’d given him this specific book ��� she would know his mind. It wasn’t quite as easy, though. And now Stephen Periwinkle appeared to be becoming nervous. Several times he turned over his shoulder, twitched.

  ‘Am I making you uncomfortable?’ Elena asked bluntly.

  He shook his head. ‘It’s this place. We are not supposed to be here.’

  ‘This place?’ she repeated. ‘Do you mean this cemetery? Or the Academy as a whole?’

  ‘Both’, grunted Stephen.

  Elena saw that his jaw was locked. All of a sudden, he did something very unexpected, something that ��� as Elena was able to guess ��� cost him a lot. He reached out and touched her. In fact, and to her utter astonishment, he grabbed her elbow quite firmly (that, too, reminded her of Jack) and led her away in the direction of the low brick wall. A large tomb nestled against it; it was by far the largest grave in the cemetery, built in the shape of a tiny chapel. In any case, the tomb was high enough to hide an adult, and Stephen dragged her behind it.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Elena demanded, confused. This action was certainly out of character, and she couldn’t help thinking that Stephen Periwinkle wouldn’t do this unless he had a very good reason.

  However, he only shushed her, putting a finger up to his mouth and looking quite fierce. They were huddled together behind the tomb, their feet in the shrubs and it was an altogether awkward situation that only began to make sense when Stephen gave Elena a meaningful look and pointed. Peeking around the edge of the tomb, Elena saw what he meant. A figure had entered the cemetery from the other side, slender and elegant, a veil of black curls falling over a slim back. Elena recognized the figure immediately. It was Magrathea Crowley.

  Elena looked over her shoulder at Stephen. His glance was still meaningful and told her ‘Just watch’. So watch she did as Magrathea Crowley walked slowly and with an expression of concentration between the graves and under the cloudy December sky overhead while singular white flakes were settling in her dark hair. She appeared to be looking for something; her eyes were carefully scanning the ground and the oblong stones that seemed to be sprouting from it. Then she stopped, knelt down. Elena couldn’t see her anymore as the woman was now hidden by hedges and graves.

  ‘Why are we hiding?’ Elena whispered to Stephen.

  ‘No trespassers’, he growled back.

  ‘But we go to school here!’

  ‘There are signs all over the walls. No trespassers’, Stephen insisted doggedly.

  ‘Then what were you doing here?’

  Again, he shushed her and pointed. Elena turned in the indicated direction and her eyes became wide. Magrathea Crowley had gotten up, but she wasn’t alone anymore. Beside her, as if materialized out of thin air or ��� rather ��� as if he had just shot out of the ground, her husband Aeneas Crowley stood by her side. They faced each other, only a few inches between their heads, and talked in hushed voices. Only they didn’t really talk. The longer Elena watched, the more she was certain that this was an argument. What she and Stephen were witnessing was a suppressed marital fight.

  ‘Where did he come from?’ she whispered to Stephen.

  Stephen replied by way of a shrug. His handsome face looked shrewd.

  ‘Apparated, probably’, Elena answered her own question.

  Stephen shook his head. ‘You can’t Apparate on these grounds’, he mumbled.

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Like Hogwarts. Or the Ministry. In crowded places, Apparition is usually banned.’

  ‘Then where did he ���’ She broke of, because fragments of the fight made it over to their hiding place. ��� ‘��� cannot do this ��� too cruel ��� no pity?’ ��� ‘��� point in being sentimental ��� your idea ��� see it through ���’ ��� ‘��� wouldn’t be shocked at all, would you? This ��� nature ��� petty jealousy ���’ ��� ‘��� greater things at stake ���’ ��� No matter how much Elena strained her ears, she could understand no more than fragments and the only information she could glean from this occurrence was the fact that there was obviously some sort of marital discord in the Crowley family. Which was interesting. But it probably meant nothing. Was there such a thing as a marriage without fighting? In her hiding place, Elena couldn’t help sneering a bit. She was ��� and had always been ��� extremely sceptical where the institution of marriage was concerned. She hardly ever asked herself where this bleak view came from, but preferred to throw her favourite quote by Marcel Proust into people’s faces, the one saying that people getting married was a sure sign of their love coming to an end. She certainly didn’t believe in the whole thing, considered it an empty form with no content, maybe even the opposite of love. What she was observing right now confirmed her pessimism and gave her a feeling of grim satisfaction.

  Suddenly, Aeneas Crowley was gone. Gone as quickly as he had appeared. To Elena it seemed as if he had bent down to tie a shoelace, but about three seconds later Magrathea Crowley was alone in the graveyard, continuing her lonesome procession among the tombs, and the presence of her husband seemed rather like a hallucination.

  Once Magrathea was out of sight, Stephen lightly touched Elena’s elbow. ‘Let’s go’, he murmured.

  ‘Where did he go?’ she hissed.

  ‘Think’, was Stephen’s terse reply. He took the lead, finding a path through the shrubs to the nearest gate that would take them back to the gardens behind Abrasax House.

  ‘Do you know where he came from?’ Elena hissed after him.

  But Stephen only smiled, obviously determined to let her do her own thinking. They approached the small gate through which Elena had come. Stephen knew no gallantry and went first. When Elena followed and drew the gate shut, it issued a loud and pitiful screech. They both froze, she and Stephen, glued to the spot. When nothing happened, they walked on cautiously.

  ‘Miss Horwath?!’

  Elena froze at the shrill ring of the voice, sighed and turned around, but not before catching the look on Stephen’s face which was tortured, almost desperate.

  Her long skirt gathered in one hand and with determined strides, Magrathea Crowley came up from the cemetery. There was a deep line on her forehead. Elena knew that the encounter wasn’t going to be pleasant. She wondered whether the woman had hidden herself somewhere, for she could have sworn that she had gone. Now, however, she was very much present and fixed Elena in her star
e before her eyes swerved at Stephen. There was a look of astonishment; clearly, Magrathea Crowley hadn’t seen him before.

  ‘Stephen!’ Again, her voice sounded shrill. ‘Now why am I not surprised?! How many times have I told you that this cemetery is off limits? Remember how I explained to you? ‘The cemetery is our Forbidden Forest!’ I am very, very disappointed in you, Stephen!’

  She was a formidable presence, her blue eyes flashing, one immensely pissed-off ladyship. For a few moments, Elena felt cowed as she watched Stephen being lectured like a recalcitrant child. He behaved like one, too, stood there with shoulders hunched and stared onto the ground. It was obvious that he was afraid of Magrathea.

  ‘It’s not his fault’, Elena said as evenly as she could, ‘I went in there. Stephen only came to get me out.’

  The flashing blue eyes shifted from Stephen to Elena. ‘This is a family cemetery, Miss Horwath’, Magrathea said with a chill in her voice, ‘and in order to ensure the Crowley family’s eternal rest, my husband and I politely ask students to keep out; however, to no avail, as it seems!’

  ‘I didn’t know’, Elena murmured.

  ‘There are signs all over!’

  ‘Not when you come in from the gardens, there aren’t’, Elena insisted.

  Something changed in Magrathea’s posture, it was a little as if she was deflating. Her beautiful features became smoother and she forced a smile to her lips. ‘Well, if that is so I must remember to correct this omission.’

  ‘I suggest you do that’, Elena said, feigning hurt pride, ‘instead of telling off those who are least to blame!’

  The forced smile on Madam Crowley’s lips got a nasty touch. She looked back and forth between Elena and Stephen, then inclined her head mockingly. ‘My bad’, she sneered, ‘I must apologize, Stephen. ��� Yes, you heard right, you’re off the hook!’

  Elena couldn’t turn her head as quickly as Stephen was gone. He just took off with a slightly stumbling gait and his shoulders still hunched, both evidence of his state of mind. And although Elena resented it a little that he left her alone with this harpy, she couldn’t really blame him, either. This was simply too much for him; he needed solitude to straighten himself out.

  ‘You’ve upset him’, she said coolly to Magrathea.

  ‘Have I now’, Madam Crowley replied indifferently. ‘You know, Miss Horwath, it’s not as if I haven’t caught him in this cemetery at least ten times ���’

  ‘Well, but this time ���’

  ‘I get your point. All the same, I wasn’t bearing down on an innocent. Stephen Periwinkle has a way of always doing exactly as he pleases. He is a most difficult young man.’

  Elena didn’t know what to say. Intuitively, she wanted to defend Stephen, but an inner voice warned her not to let Magrathea see too clearly what was in her heart, so she ended up saying nothing.

  ‘How did you like the cemetery?’ Magrathea asked with a sardonic undertone.

  ‘I didn’t see much’, Elena half-lied, ‘before Stephen turned up and ���’

  ‘I see’, Magrathea interrupted sharply, then she tilted her head. ‘You have a habit of picking up troubled men, don’t you?’

  Impulse was a bloody bitch. Elena felt her anger flaring up like a geyser; heat came to her face. The effort she made to suppress all this was immense. She forced herself to breath calmly and to tame her anger by focussing on how she could best use this situation. ‘It’s a pattern I’m trying to break’, she murmured eventually.

  Magrathea scrutinized her face. Her smile became softer and finally she said ‘So I’ve heard.’

  Elena thought it a good idea to stare onto the ground.

  ‘I must say I was surprised’, Magrathea went on, ‘I should have thought that Mr Malfoy is a tad young for you.’

  Elena bit the inside of her lower lip. ‘Gotcha’, she thought. Draco’s and her little scheme had been duly noted and was making the rounds; people were swallowing it. Now she only had to play it right ��� ‘That’s what I thought, too, at first. However, when you’re really getting on, it doesn’t ���’

  ‘I agree’, Madam Crowley interrupted her with a fierce nod, ‘age means nothing. Nothing at all.’

  Elena wondered what was behind the grim finality of this statement. ‘I was surprised myself’, she said as if intimating something very personal.

  ‘He is certainly a very strapping young man’, Magrathea said with an amused glimmer in her eyes, ‘you’ve probably made a number of young ladies very furious ���’

  ‘Not only them’, Elena said, because the opportunity was simply too good.

  ‘Oh, I see’, another sneer on Lady Crowley’s beautiful face. ‘Well, I’m not surprised. A man like Jack Daysen wouldn’t let a girl like you out of his clutches that easily. It appears to me that he likes to fish in waters that are really too deep for him.’

  Gosh, she wanted to scratch the woman’s eyes out for that remark! Breathing evenly became an immense effort, standing still an exercise of will. ‘I wouldn’t know’, she said demurely.

  ‘And you needn’t concern yourself with it. You’re here with us now and we’re glad to have you. You are aware, of course, that most of our students have to pay a fee? Whereas you don’t ���’

  It was hard to keep a straight face. Why did Magrathea have to remind her of that? So that she would be grateful and comply with anything? ‘I very much appreciate what you are doing for me’, Elena said and tried to sound bright.

  But Madam Crowley wanted to make a little more of her generosity. ‘You may have guessed by now that we charge according to existing talent. A considerable number of witches and wizards who come here are no more than squibs; getting them to perform acceptable magic is, of course, difficult and hence costly.’

  Elena thought of Rowle, her classmate. His family must surely pay a fortune ���

  ‘In the case of someone such as you, however’, Magrathea went on, ‘we consider it our privilege to develop your abilities. Talent should not be sacrificed for money issues.’

  ‘A noble stance’, Elena commented, ‘but maybe you’re overestimating me.’

  Magrathea smiled vaguely. ‘I’m not. After all, that is what we have Stephen for. The magic he has is quite unique, difficult though he may be.’

  ‘I guess he’s just different’, murmured Elena.

  ‘Yes, he is. And it is kind of you to take an interest. I should warn you, however. It might not be a good idea to become his friend.’

  ‘Why?’ Elena asked with knit brows.

  Magrathea shrugged nonchalantly. ‘You might not be able to get rid of him anymore.’

  Again, Elena forced herself to breath evenly. Not for the first time she told herself that she wasn’t made for the job of spy. She was way too emotional, ever in danger of bursting out with her innermost feelings, and this was worst when people were concerned that she cared about. However, Jack had equipped her even for that. ‘Whenever someone really gets to you’, he had said, ‘remember that they might be testing you, that they might be probing for your weak spot. The moment they have you rattled, they’ve got it.’ ��� Give up her weak spot to Magrathea Crowley? No bloody way! And Jack had told her another, very simple thing: ‘If you don’t like the conversation, change it.’ Imperceptibly, Elena straightened her back. ‘My friend, Mr Malfoy’, she started, casting down her eyes in mock-modesty, ‘is very impressed with what I’ve learnt here.’

  ‘Is he now?’

  ‘He said he’s never seen such quick results, not even at Hogwarts.’

  ‘That’s good to hear.’ It didn’t sound very impressed, though. In fact, Elena sensed that Magrathea was retreating.

  ‘He told me that he’s very ��� interested in the process employed here at the academy.’

  ‘Yes. That is true for a lot of people.’

  Elena struggled for words. ‘He’d give a lot to ��� see it ���’

  Magrathea Crowley smiled, radiantly
and falsely at the same time. ‘I’m not surprised, Miss Horwath. A lot of witches and wizards would like to familiarize themselves with our process. However, as you know, we’re very selective about that.’

  ‘I do know’, Elena hastened to assure her. ‘I also know that the Malfoys are a very respected family in the wizarding world. They might ��� help, you know.’

  ‘Help?’ Magrathea gave her another dazzling smile. ‘What makes you think that we need help?’

  ‘Doesn’t every teaching institution need help?’

  ‘Certainly. But then, we’re selective about that, too.’

  Elena didn’t know what more to say. So this had been her honest effort to bring Draco into the mix; and how clumsily and stupidly she’d gone about it! Magrathea hadn’t even been interested! Elena groaned inwardly. She really should have planned this a little better than merely following her gut feeling.

  Magrathea Crowley’s lips made a little moue. ‘We will be having a little party here before Christmas for which we shall open our doors to guests for an evening. If you wish, I can put your young beau on the guest list.’

  Elena made herself smile. ‘That’d be nice.’

  ‘Duly noted. ��� But shouldn’t you be back in class now?’

  Elena’s eyes flew up to the bell tower and she breathed with relief realizing that it was in fact high time to go. The presence of Magrathea Crowley made her skin crawl and she couldn’t wait to get away.

  ‘Charles Redwood’s talking very highly about you, by the way’, Magrathea chirped. ‘He says that your thinking is very ��� original.’

  ‘Very Mugglish, he means’, Elena thought, but smiled meekly. ‘That’s good to hear. ��� If you’ll excuse me now ���’

  Elena had already turned and was dying to get away; as a result, a jolt went through her when Magrathea called her back. ‘Just one thing, Miss Horwath ���’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You remember the time when you visited me over at the Manor, with your charming friend ��� what was her name?’

  Elena gave Cassie’s name with a catch in her throat.

  ‘Do you remember how I talked to you about Madam Daysen then? ��� You haven’t ever met her, have you?’