Stepping into the house, Heri could see it that it seemed to contain three tiny rooms. Two doors led off the main room, which served as kitchen and living room combined. She assumed the doors led to the bedrooms. Everything in sight was covered in several layers of dust. Parts of the roof had caved in, revealing ragged ceiling beams.
Now that she was inside, the strange urge that had struck her had doubled. As if being pulled forward by some invisible rope (This way, this way, this way . . .), Heri walked over to a section of rotting floorboards by the antiquated stove and knelt down.
She pried up a couple of boards, absently noting that they weren't nailed down at all. Underneath, sitting there as if it had been waiting for her to find it, was a small, hand-sized, golden chest. Unadorned and unlocked, it opened easily when she pulled the lid up. Sitting proudly within was a gold ring inlaid with a black stone.
Heri picked up the ring and inspected it. Honestly, it was a rather unassuming ring, no extra gems or anything. The stone wasn't even precious, just a smoothed over pebble one might find in a riverbed. The only thing that set it apart was the odd coat-of-arms it was engraved with. Well, she called it a coat-of-arms, but it actually looked more like a primitive sigil. How odd.
(Touch it, touch it, touch it . . .)
She reached a finger up to stroke the stone but flinched at an unexpected prick at that finger. Putting the ring down for a moment, Heri saw that there was a splinter in her forefinger, a rather thick one at that. She must have caught it when she was pulling up the floorboards.
With a swift pluck, the sliver of wood was removed. A bead of blood welled up at the pinprick, Heri watched idly as it swelled and eventually dripped off her finger.
A shriek of pain made Heri jolt. She immediately looked down at where the sound was coming from. Her drop of blood had landed on the ring, in the dead-centre of the stone. It now trembled where it sat, a moaning, keening sound of pain coming from it.
As she watched, a crack formed down the centre and her blood seeped into the crevice. This proved to be too much for the ring — a wisp of smoke (eerily reminiscent of Voldemort's wraith form) oozed out of the crack, roiling and bubbling. The wisp churned angrily for a moment before it finally dissipated.
Heri blinked rapidly, trying to understand what had just happened. She shook her head sharply to relieve the fuzziness and got back to her feet. This impromptu detour was already too weird. It was best if she got going.
Without thinking, she picked up the ring again and slipped it on her free ring-finger.
She was unconscious before she even hit the floor.
N inúš-didi . . . Ninúš-didi . . . Ninúš-didi . . .
What?
Kima parsi labiruti . . . sa belet ersetim ki'am parsusa . . .
Ninúš-didi . . .
My lady, can ye hear me . . . ?
What was going on? She tried to open her eyes but couldn't tell if she achieved it.
'Tis nearly time . . . your time cometh . . . Ninúš-didi . . . he doth awaken . . .
Was someone there? Was someone talking to her? She tried to speak but she couldn't feel her mouth.
Soo~oon . . . 'Twill all be over soon . . . But for now . . . your lady mother cometh . . .
Sleep now . . . the end is nigh . . .
Annu harrani sa alaktasa la tarat . . . Eli baltuti ima'idu mituti . . .
Ninúš-didi . . . sada emedu . . .
There was a very public uproar when the Girl Who Lived was abducted in the middle of the Triwizard Tournament in the Scottish Highlands only to be found the next day over three hundred miles away in the Midlands of England. The DMLE had been sent in along with a team of Obliviators when they learned via an owl from one of her friend's mother that she received a telephone call from the missing girl, explaining that she was in a muggle village and needed assistance.
She was retrieved and returned to her frantic family and friends post-haste.
The unrest grew when it was discovered that the kidnapper was none other than Bartemius Crouch Jr., son of the Head of the Department of Magical Cooperation, former inmate of Azkaban, and previously presumed dead man. With a breakout from Azkaban coming to light two years in a row when there previously had never been even one, the suitability of Cornelius Fudge's administration came under questioning. In fact, a call rose up for the spring-cleaning of all ministry departments. The fact that it came to be known that Crouch Jr. had been trying to resurrect He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named lent fuel to the fire.
Dear Hagrid,
Letters from me will unfortunately be infrequent this summer. Sirius is packing us up to my family's home in Massachusetts, a state on the east coast of the United States, and a transatlantic flight isn't something I would inflict on an owl too frequently. Even a troublesome one like Hedwig. I will try to make my letters longer to compensate.
Sirius reckons we could use some time away from England. That and Bramblewood Hall could use some tidying up. It's been left empty since before I was born, so I expect that it'll be a similar state that our London town-house was in before. Hopefully, there'll be fewer pest infestations to clean out, as I've come to really hate doxies.
We leave as soon as I send out this letter. We'll be taking a ship a lot like the one the Durmstrang students arrived in last year. I've heard it's a lot faster than a Muggle ship, and if that's true it'll be a good thing because Remus gets motion sickness.
I hope to see creatures native to the country when we get there, and I'll be sure to tell you all about them. Is there anything in particular you're curious about?
Love,
Heri
Dear Heri,
The colonies are a bit far away even if you are trying to get away from England. I know that the Ministry clean-up movement is holding you up as a symbol for the cause, but I didn't expect for it to get to you so quickly. Has it been awful then? Zach's dad is part of the evaluation committee sweeping through the Departments, he says that they're fanning the flames to build up public indignity so that the issue won't be pushed aside before they can finish. Zach's been calling it 'The Purge'.
You're not staying over there, are you? The monsters are more widespread over there, and they aren't controlled the same as over here. The Americans are pretty 'live and let live' with their creature-related laws according to my dad. Be safe, okay?
– Ernie
.
CADERWHAUL'S CROSS-STITCH
Handicraft Emporium
DATE: 6/15/1995 TIME: 1:27 PM
PAYMENT...ITEM
00ʛ, 04ʢ, 07ȸ...1 Articulated Mannequin, 12 in...
02ʛ, 15ʢ, 05ȸ...1 Adjustable Body Form, 5 ft...
00ʛ, 14ʢ, 19ȸ...1 Saget's 62 Pastels Assorted Chalk...
00ʛ, 01ʢ, 10ȸ...1 Bluebell's 40 Spools Assorted Thread Set...
00ʛ, 12ʢ, 06ȸ...1 Brambleberry's Assorted Color Yarn Basket...
00ʛ, 10ʢ, 02ȸ...1 Tilinksy's 150-Pack Embroidery Floss...
01ʛ, 09ʢ, 00ȸ...1 Miss Honey's Expanded-space Sewing Kit...
02ʛ, 11ʢ, 00ȸ...1 Miss Honey's Resizeable Sewing Machine...
00ʛ, 04ʢ, 00ȸ...1 Augustine's 800pcs Pearl-head Pins...
00ʛ, 04ʢ, 00ȸ...1 Cyan Selkie's Bucket O' Buttons™, 16 Oz...
00ʛ, 12ʢ, 00ȸ...1 Blue w/ White Polka Dots Cotton, 4 yd...
00ʛ, 12ʢ, 00ȸ...1 Pink Striped Cotton, 4 yd...
01ʛ, 24ʢ, 00ȸ...1 White Cotton, 8 yd...
00ʛ, 11ʢ, 00ȸ...1 White Floral Pattern Lace Trim, 10 yd...
…...TOTAL: 14ʛ, 07ʢ, 20ȸ
----------------
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