‘Don’t move.’
They had Apparated into a dingy hallway. He stood with his back to the wall, still holding her against him, the back of her head pressed into his chin, his arm around her chest, pinning her upper arms to her sides, but she had already established a tight grip on her wand in the pocket of her dress. She could feel his heartbeat thudding into her back and his laboured breathing in her ear. She tried to breathe evenly, as her father had taught her.
The worst thing you can do under attack is panic, he had counselled, and the best remedy for panic is oxygen. If you’re afforded a single second, use it to breathe. Breathe consciously.
After half a minute or so wherein neither moved, the grip around her chest relaxed, and Delilah used the advantage to slip downwards out of his grip and spin to face him, wand raised.
‘Stupef–’ she choked out, before he easily caught her arm and pressed it against her chest, deflecting her wand tip away from himself and pushing her back against the opposite wall so they were face to face.
‘No,’ he said bluntly. He was using his right arm to restrain her, and used his left to light his wand, which he shone onto his own face, lighting it eerily from beneath, like a Muggle child telling a Hallowe’en story with a torch.
‘Look at me. Do you recognise me?’
Delilah’s heart stilled.
‘You’re… You’re one of the Hogwarts professors.’
‘Correct. I am Professor Snape.’
‘Did you kill Terry?’
‘I Stunned him.’
‘What’s going on?’
‘You are in danger. I was sent to rescue you. Professor Dumbledore is waiting to receive you.’
There was a thick silence as they glared into each other’s eyes.
‘Well, let me go then.’
Professor Snape paused for a moment, then relaxed his grip on Delilah’s arm.
‘There is a bathroom along the corridor on the right. You may go and compose yourself, and then meet us in the sitting room opposite.’
It wasn’t until he turned and swept off down the corridor that Delilah realised the bodice of her dress was still gathered around her ribcage, and not until she yanked the straps back up over her chest and started towards the bathroom that she discovered how sticky and drenched her knickers were, her gusset now uncomfortably cold in the chill of the hallway. The thunderous excitement she’d felt a moment before her abduction had mutated so suddenly into blind terror, it seemed unbelievable that barely three or four minutes could have passed since she’d been in Terry’s arms, surrounded by Sweet Briar and fairies.
In a cavernous bathroom with a huge square marble bathtub sunk into the corner she cleaned herself up and straightened her dress. After she’d washed her hands she stood at the sink for a moment, head bowed, leaning her palms on the cold marble rim, wondering if she was going to throw up. Eventually she squared her shoulders, took several deep breaths and made her way across the hallway into the sitting room where Albus Dumbledore was sitting in an armchair, his white beard glinting golden in the firelight, whilst Severus Snape stood in the corner, arms folded.
‘What is going on?’ she demanded from the doorway without preamble, sounding more confident than she felt.
‘Miss Blackthorn,’ Dumbledore said gently, ‘please take a seat.’
‘No. Tell me why I’ve been abducted.’
‘I will, but it will be considerably more comfortable for everybody if you’ll sit down and allow me to serve you some tea.’ The headmaster pushed a china teacup towards the empty armchair opposite him and filled it from a teapot. Delilah inched reluctantly towards the chair and perched upon its edge.
Dumbledore turned towards Snape.
‘I think we can manage without you now, Severus,’ he said in an undertone. Snape nodded mutely and swept from the room.
‘What is going on?’ Delilah asked again, ignoring the milk jug that had been pushed towards her. ‘Where are we?’
‘I would never presume to add milk to someone else’s tea,’ Dumbledore said conversationally. ‘It’s such a personal thing, don’t you think?’ He regarded her mutinous expression, and then settled himself back into his armchair.
‘To answer your questions in reverse order: this is Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.’
‘Is that supposed to mean something to me?’
‘I would be astonished if it did. This was the home of the late Sirius Black, and has been used for the past year as the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Do you know what that is?’
‘Yes. It’s the secret society you set up to fight Voldemort during the war. Dad told me about it.’
Dumbledore nodded approvingly.
‘Ormond was an invaluable resource to us. He frequently risked prosecution by bringing intelligence he’d gathered on the ground to us before reporting to the Ministry, and risked his life to attain photographs which secured the conviction of a great many criminals.’
‘You still haven’t told me what’s going on.’
‘Quite. Please accept my apologies.’ He regarded her steadily for a moment. ‘Firstly, I assume you know that Lord Voldemort has returned?’
‘Yes. I’ve known for months.’
The confidence of her reply elicited no apparent surprise the headmaster.
‘Of course. Your stepmother broke the story in the Daily Prophet after Voldemort revealed himself in the Ministry last month. One of the first owls I received after the tragedy we experienced last summer was from her, barely hours after the event. She also broke the story about the Goblet of Fire’s irregular behaviour in selecting four champions. I presume you had something to do with that?’ he added, his blue eyes twinkling at Delilah from beneath a raised eyebrow.
‘Not really,’ she said. ‘She heard from Bagman about Potter’s name coming out of the Goblet of Fire, and she managed to use her press pass to sneak into all the Challenges. She said she’d been waiting for something like that to happen. I’m not sure why.’
‘Indeed,’ Dumbledore replied softly, gazing into the fire. His conversational leisure was maddening. ‘That doesn’t surprise me. Constance Blackthorn is one of the most talented and penetrating minds I know. We are all fortunate that she’s dedicated herself to the profession of journalism, even in the limited capacity that the Ministry now lets her practise.’
‘Professor.’
Delilah’s voice betrayed that she was on the verge of hurling her teacup at him.
He sighed.
‘Forgive me. Before I begin, I need your word – your absolute solemn word – that nothing I tell you this evening will ever be discussed with anybody, anybody, except myself and Professor Snape, unless I expressly allow it. Some of what you are about to learn has been kept from even the most senior members of the Order of the Phoenix, but I must share it with you in order that you understand the position you’re in.’ He fixed her with his sapphire gaze that was gentle but utterly uncompromising, and she felt almost that in giving her word she was entering into a binding contract. ‘Do I have it?’
‘Yes,’ she said without hesitation. Dumbledore held her gaze for a moment longer and then leaned back in his chair.
‘Well then, the only question is where to begin.’
‘Begin with why you sent Professor Snape to abduct me.’
Dumbledore nodded.
‘As good a place as any. The first thing I am going to tell you is that Professor Snape is a double agent: he is loyal to our side, but Voldemort believes him to be a Death Eater, spying on the Order’s activities. This means we are sometimes able to control the flow of information which reaches Voldemort, and mitigate the consequences of his activities.’
‘Is there any point in my asking why you’re so sure it’s that way round?’ Delilah asked.
‘No,’ he replied with a smile. ‘But the point is that we are aware of a plan involving you and your family, which is why we have removed you to a safe house.’
‘A plan involving me?’ Delilah repeated incredulously. ‘Is this because of Connie writing about how he’s back? They want to torture us all for revenge?’
‘I’m afraid it runs deeper than that. Delilah, in your time at Hogwarts, did you learn much about the personal histories of any of the school’s founders? Specifically Rowena Ravenclaw?’
Delilah frowned at the abrupt, unexpected question.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘In which case, bear with me while I fill you in. Rowena was renowned in her lifetime for her beauty and intellect, and has been remembered ever since for her achievements. Less well known is her daughter, Helena, known in her spectral form as The Grey Lady.’
‘I met her!’ Delilah interrupted excitedly. ‘The ghost of the Ravenclaw tower! Well, I saw her, anyway. She wasn’t that chatty. I didn’t know she was the daughter of Rowena though.’
‘In a castle where secrets seldom remain secret, it is a surprisingly little-known fact.’
‘What happened to her?’
‘Poor Helena was crippled with envy of her mother’s renown, so as a young woman she stole Rowena’s famous diadem and fled with it, and ended up hiding in Albania, until she was hunted down and murdered by a suitor she had rejected. For centuries none of this was known though: Helena guarded her secrets closely, until her confidence was won by a handsome, sympathetic young man by the name of Tom Riddle. Can you guess by what name that man is now known?’
Delilah felt a chill run through her haunches.
‘Lord Voldemort?’
‘That’s right. Tom has always been remarkably adept at eliciting information where it will benefit him, and was the first person in history to persuade Helena to share the secret she’d guarded for so long. But that wasn’t the only secret he discovered from her.’
A ringing pause hung in the air.
‘Is this where I come in?’ Delilah asked with trepidation.
‘Yes,’ Dumbledore said heavily. ‘It now appears that the reason for Helena’s flight was not just envy: she was with child outside of wedlock, and fear of the shame that this would have brought on the Ravenclaw name, fear of her mother’s fury and disappointment, drove her to flee. She had the child in a small hospital in Albania under a false name, and slipped out under the cover of darkness, leaving the child behind. She was dead barely weeks later, and all we know of the baby is that it was transferred back to a British orphanage, and never knew of its heritage.’
Delilah stared blankly.
‘But what…?’
‘Don’t you see? Ravenclaw. Blackthorn. An elegant pseudonym.’
Delilah’s head swam. Half-formed questions flashed through her mind, but none made it to her lips, so she sat in stunned silence.
‘We’re descendants of Ravenclaw?’ she finally managed.
‘Quite an honour: you see, Rowena was an only child and so was Helena, so until recently, everyone thought the line had died out. Rowena herself died almost immediately after her daughter. It’s thought that she wasted away after the shock of Helena’s betrayal. ’
‘But where does Voldemort come into this? I mean, why does it matter that there’s an illegitimate bloodline?’
‘Ah, yes. Voldemort’s plans for your family. Presumably you know that Voldemort was himself a student at Hogwarts?’
‘Yes. Well, I assumed as much. ’
‘The castle, the school, the entire Hogwarts experience, is of tremendous personal importance to Voldemort. He was raised in a Muggle orphanage with no real idea of his magical abilities, and being brought to the school at the age of eleven marked a realisation of all of his dreams. Dreams of heritage, importance, a place in history. He set about exploring the castle’s secrets with remarkable success: securing the confidence of Helena Ravenclaw was just one of his unique achievements. It is therefore surely no surprise that one of the many ambitions he has nursed in his rise to power is domination of the castle he so cherishes. Before his unexpected fall, Voldemort was advancing his research into the most effective way to seize power of the school. Unassailable power.’
‘Unassailable power?’ Delilah repeated with a frown. ‘You mean, something more than the power you have as headmaster? Some kind of ownership?’
‘Precisely. Hogwarts is governed by a complex, centuries-old system of proprietorial magic: whilst Voldemort could simply kill or overpower me – or whomever the current headmaster or headmistress might be – and install himself as leader, that would be akin to snatching another wizard’s wand off of his nightstand while he slept, and expecting it to answer completely to you. In order to be the true master of a wand you need to win its allegiance, and the same is true of Hogwarts: the castle would not answer to him as headmaster or Governor in the way he wants, simply because he ordered it to. Voldemort’s understanding of the concept of loyalty is blunt and unsophisticated, but he does understand the subtleties of coercion and obedience when he needs to in order to achieve his goals.’
A dawning comprehension began to grow in Delilah’s mind, and brought with it a nauseating dread.
‘And winning the school’s allegiance has something to do with the founders?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
‘You are quite uncommonly sharp, Miss Blackthorn,’ Dumbledore said quietly. ‘The influence of your stepmother is clear: she too has often impressed me with her unflinching deductive powers.’
‘So I’m right. He wants to kill us all so that there’s no outstanding claim to the castle’s heritage.’
Delilah thought she saw a peculiar hesitation flicker in Dumbledore’s eyes.
‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘Voldemort believes that if he personally kills all of the surviving ancestors of the four founders, the castle will accept his claim to its governance. He learned of the planned celebrations at The Briar House, and sent his Death Eaters to attack your family .’
‘But then-’ Delilah clutched the arms of the armchair, an electric pang of horror jolting through her. ‘But what about Dad? And Connie and Matilda? He’ll kill Connie too, won’t he, even though she isn’t a blood relation?’
Dumbledore bowed his head.
‘Professor Snape will report back to us as soon as he is able. Ormond and Constance are powerful and talented: we have every reason to hope they will escape.’
Delilah leapt up from her chair.
‘You just left them there?’ she shrieked. ‘Why would you bring me here and just leave them to fend for themselves? What about Matilda? She’s just a baby!’
‘Please, Delilah,’ Dumbledore said gently. ‘Sit down. Try to remain calm.’
‘NO!’ she shouted, walking wildly in a small circle around her armchair as anger and terror flooded her limbs. ‘How could you? Why couldn’t you have brought them here with me?’
‘As I explained before,’ Dumbledore said patiently, ‘Professor Snape’s success as a double agent depends on our careful handling of the information he provides us. If Voldemort suspects there is a mole in his inner circle he will not risk any further leaks. Although the short-term sacrifices can be painful, the long-term consequences of our not making them would be catastrophic. Try to understand.’
‘So you’ve sacrificed my family to secure the safety of your agent?’ Delilah spat, pacing back and forth, both hands sunk into her hair. She knew that terror, sheer, drowning panic was making her unreasonable, but she couldn’t control herself.
‘The safety of dozens, perhaps hundreds of people who have already been spared as a direct result of the information Professor Snape has brought us. Eventually, I hope, the safety of us all. But in essence, yes, that is right. We have resisted staging a rescue that might have compromised our access to invaluable intelligence.’
‘And me? Why wasn’t I sacrificed?’
‘There is a very simple answer to that question: Voldemort doesn’t know that you exist.’
That took the wind out of Delilah’s sails. She sagged.
‘What?’ she asked weakly. ‘How is that possible if he knows about the rest of them?’
‘Sit down, Delilah,’ Dumbledore suggested again, indicating the armchair. ‘You look extremely pale.’ Delilah complied mutely. ‘The reason Voldemort doesn’t know you exist is that at some point, fairly recently I would venture, Ormond used his position in the Ministry to remove any trace of your existence from public record.’
‘What? Why?’
‘I take it from your reaction that this wasn’t something he discussed with you.’
Delilah shook her head.
‘During the last war, those hit the hardest by Voldemort’s campaigns for the “purification” of the wizarding world, as he calls it, were of course the Muggle-borns and those perceived to be Muggle sympathisers. You are, I know, a half-blood witch, but my best guess is that Ormond feared, particularly since you were born outside of wedlock, that you might have trouble proving your blood status. It was probably opportunism as much as anything that made him smuggle your folder out of the Ministry, haunted by rumours of Voldemort’s return, but it is most fortuitous for you that he did so. Voldemort knows about Matilda, but he has no idea that Ormond has an older child.’
There was a short silence as this information embedded itself in Delilah’s mind.
‘And the other three founders?’ she asked eventually. ‘We’re the descendants of Ravenclaw, but what about Gryffindor, Slytherin and Hufflepuff?’
‘Another excellent question. The simplest answer first: the last living descendant of Salazar Slytherin is Voldemort himself. His mother died in childbirth, and his maternal uncle died without children, so that line belongs exclusively to him. I think it was this fact that inspired him to pursue this particular project, in fact. As for Godric Gryffindor, he has no living ancestors that we know of, and so presumably presented an insurmountable obstacle in Voldemort’s plan before his demise in ‘81. I would assume that he hoped that no remaining ancestors meant no outstanding claim, but as it happened, by the time of his return he had found what he will consider to be an elegant solution in the form of Harry Potter.’
‘Potter is descended from Gryffindor?’
‘Not exactly. Harry is not related to the Gryffindor line by blood, but he has demonstrated a different kind of ancestral claim: four years ago, Gryffindor’s sword, an obscure and powerful magical object, presented itself to him in a time of need, forming something like an ancestral relationship – as close to one as possible, given that no actual relations exist. Murdering Harry, his fêted nemesis, would already be an immensely symbolic act for Voldemort, and it’s my guess that defeating Harry and conquering Hogwarts have developed a reciprocal relationship in his mind.’
‘And Hufflepuff?’
Here Dumbledore paused ponderously.
‘The last surviving ancestor of Helga Hufflepuff was a child called Morgane Meles. She was more or less your age, and she and her parents were murdered this week.’
‘This week?’
‘Yes.’
Somehow this seemed to finally bring home the reality of the situation to Delilah.
‘So he’s already started on his plan, but he only knows about the other three, not me.’
‘Yes; and our priority now must be to ensure he doesn’t find out about you.’
There was a crash from the hallway and the thunderous sound of footsteps on the stairs. Dumbledore leapt to his feet, and Delilah turned to face the door, one hand digging into the brocade of the chair’s armrest so that her nails bent backwards, the other pressed into her lap, clutching a handful of her skirt in a balled fist.
Snape appeared in the doorway, still in his black travelling cloak, his breath ragged and harsh.
‘Ormond is dead,’ he said shortly. ‘The other two got away.’
In the silence that followed this announcement, none of the three looked at each other. Snape leaned back against the doorframe, eyes closed; Dumbledore gazed bleakly into the fire; Delilah stared uncomprehendingly straight ahead. The shapes, sounds and colours of the room ceased to make sense to her. It was as though the entire world had ground to a perfect, inexplicable standstill, and her brain and body were paralysed along with everything else. The stillness was only broken when the room lurched sideways with a creaking sound, a sickening crack seemed to correspond with a sharp pain in her elbow, and a strangled wail filled the air which she didn’t even register escaping from her own lips.
