Darcie woke up Saturday morning with a splitting headache.
Uncountable whispers and incomprehensible hisses kept rushing in and out of her mind like forgotten dreams.
Never had she felt so nauseated before, the feeling of not understanding something leaving her quite helpless.
The only thing of comfort was that she knew the origin of this all.
It wasn't the first time that she had listened to her ancestor's Patronus' imprint in her dreams.
The first time it happened, Darcie had gotten her hands on the mysterious documents and the Sign buried deep in the walls of Malfoy Manor's beer cellar.
Then she heard it hissing out two topics later — Ancient Magical Script and Herpo the Foul.
Yet, those hisses had limited themselves to a few comprehensible words only.
This time, it was different. It was as if the Patronus' imprint was trying to teach her something, hissing in her ears constantly.
She could hear it in her mind even now, and it wasn't a good feeling, to say the least.
Darcie threw herself off the sofa and gulped down a potion, instantly relieving herself from this pounding pain.
I fell asleep, she thought, her eyes wandering on the table and the many books placed on it.
Then her eyes fell on the black object, and she couldn't help but let out a sigh.
For the first time, Darcie felt guilty about the entire situation.
Not because it was she who had gotten this item from a mysterious seller, but because, even after knowing its dark history, she still wanted to research it.
Her curiosity to see the secrets hidden behind the abysmal seal of the black coating hadn't satiated at all.
Darcie thirsted for knowledge, and even more so for challenges.
But this wasn't the time to continue with this, she knew.
Her mother had only permitted her to spend the night at Brews and Stews. Now she must go home.
I will continue with this next week in Daphne and Dobby's presence, Darcie planned, nodding to herself.
She wasn't afraid, but playing with this object did make her feel odd, especially when she couldn't control her Magic to guard herself.
After freshening herself up, Darcie arrived in the dining room on the ground floor from where she would take Floo Network to home.
To her surprise, someone was already waiting for her there.
"Good morning, mentor," Darcie greeted, not hiding her amazement. "Do you need my assistance today?"
Unlike Darcie, the Assistant Manager of the Flourish and Blotts didn't enjoy weekend holidays.
Madam Villanelle giggled and shook her head. "No," she said, gesturing at the seat opposite her. "Would you be kind enough to accompany me for breakfast?"
Darcie saw no reason to deny her mentor's request.
A thin layer of snow had covered the cobbled streets of the Diagon Alley outside.
It was still too early to know if the Grand Fair had brought some favorable changes to the alley's business.
For now, the light crowd hurrying up and down the cold street boded nothing bad.
Darcie observed her mentor quietly.
Madam Villanelle was quite a cheerful person. She talked when the situation needed it, guided when the time demanded it and gossiped when the hearts desired it.
Other than that, she kept quiet, respecting her student's inherent composedness.
And Darcie liked all these things about her.
"Good morning, Ms. Crispe," Darcie greeted the hotel's owner as she came to deliver a light breakfast of boiled eggs and juice for her.
The old witch had quite a wide smile on her face, her eyes dreamy, Darcie observed.
An obvious result of the lucrative business the hotel had done in the last three days, perhaps?
As Darcie and her mentor ate, a few more wizards and witches came down, taking seats around them. The air got filled with the smell of soot, delicious treats, coffees, and whispers.
"Have you been feeling well?" Madam Villanelle asked. She was wearing a long green gown with rich floral embroidery, giving her a dense, regal appearance.
Her silver-gray eyes shone like two cold stars, and on her head was a scarf, her shoulders carrying a plain shawl around them.
Darcie sipped her juice and nodded.
Madam Villanelle sighed. "I noticed your downcast expression during the celebratory ceremony," she told her. "Is yesterday's matter still troubling you?"
Darcie almost lost her composure.
This?! Has her mentor found something from Garluk? She questioned herself.
"Don't think too much about it," Madam Villanelle comforted her. "The scuffle between your father and Arthur has nothing to do with you."
Oh! Darcie released a gasp inwardly.
She had indeed put behind the fight during the award ceremony yesterday afternoon.
No matter who had been at fault, Darcie still believed that there was no reason for Mr. Weasley to raise the issue to a physical confrontation.
She had felt quite indignant after seeing her father's lip bleeding, then.
But Mrs. Weasley's sincere words and then her and Daphne's findings related to the mysterious object made her let go of the topic.
No wonder Madam Villanelle mistook her lost face for something else.
Darcie didn't trouble herself to clear the misunderstanding, though.
Things had come too far, and it would be pointless to let her mentor know about the object now when she was close to unraveling its mysteries with her friends.
A light nod was the best answer, and Darcie's nods were already the lightest.
Madam Villanelle's smile broadened as she saw that. "Are you heading for home now?" she asked.
"Yes, mentor," Darcie answered. "I have no strength to bear the burden of my mother's wrath. If it was in my hands, I'd rather stay with you and learn more."
Madam Villanelle couldn't control her laugh.
"Well, I have a better proposal for you, young lady," she whispered secretively, leaning forward.
Sure enough, Darcie's eyes lit up, and she skidded her way forward on the chair as well.
"Already curious?" Madam Villanelle's brows rose playfully.
"I have some friends who would love to meet you, Darcie," she said, turning more serious than her usual self. "Would you be willing to join me for a short, adventurous meeting?"
"Friends?" Darcie asked, feeling wondrous.
For one, she knew little to nothing about Madam Villanelle, other than she had studied in Hogwarts.
All her father's attempts to unearth her mentor's background had failed, to the point that they didn't even know her last name, despite the registered accounts of Hogwarts' students at the ministry.
Then there was this feeling in Darcie's heart that told her Madam Villanelle was no ordinary witch. Her mentor was too outstanding, knowing age-old secrets and events.
Darcie even believed that if she had mentioned the words, Ancient Magical Script, directly to her, then she would have gotten a substantial response.
But she feared her parents and the minister would find out about her ancestor's Patronus in that case, so she instead only mentioned it indirectly, getting no results.
If she didn't have Mr. Ollivander to count on, then she truly wouldn't have any other choice but to take her mentor's help.
Now that an opportunity presented itself, Darcie found it a matter of shame if she wouldn't grab it.
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