GNOSIS ARCANUM

chapter ii // bloody fingertips

Diana didn't sleep well that night. Her father had arrived home around 3 am, according to the clock on her nightstand. She had woken up to the sound of his ire—not yelling, but certainly toeing the line.

"How Lucius Malfoy is still allowed to hold any sway at the Ministry is beyond me!"

"So you've said," she heard her stepmother respond, obviously bored. "And I'll remind you that you could hold the same sway if you just—"

"No, Lenore. I deal in facts, not favours."

Diana had fallen back asleep, but her dreams were dark and muddled, what she had overhead weighing on her mind. When she woke up again in the morning, her eyes were still heavy and her brain foggy.

She had no time to ruminate, however. She could hear the sound of the house bustling outside her door, and a quick glance at the time told her she was already running late. Cursing, she threw the covers off of her and stood up, much to the displeasure of Angus, who slept at the end of her bed. She pulled on the outfit she had picked the night before and glanced around her room to make sure she hadn't forgotten to pack anything.

When she was certain, she grabbed one end of her trunk and heaved it out into the hallway. She was breathing heavily almost immediately—she was the only person in the house who still couldn't do magic outside of Hogwarts. Violet had turned seventeen a few months prior, and had been subtly flaunting her freedom all summer. Diana could see her trunk had already been levitated to the entryway.

With a huff, she continued tugging at her behemoth, regretting packing as many clothes as she had. Just when her arms were beginning to shake, she felt the trunk lift several inches from the floor. Her arms went slack as she realised what was happening, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

She turned to see her father with a mug in one hand and his wand in the other, brandished for the spell he had just used to move her trunk. She grinned.

"I didn't know if you'd be up. You got back so late last night."

He raised his mug as an answer, grimacing before taking a long drink. She heard her trunk land solidly next to her sister's.

"What happened? They don't usually keep you that long."

"Idiotic fool wasting all of our time," was all he said. It wouldn't have made any sense if she hadn't read the letter on his desk. Still, his words didn't provide much enlightenment.

"Do you have to go back today?"

He nodded. "But not until after King's Cross."

She beamed—she hadn't been certain if he'd be coming with them.

"Lenore has breakfast out. Get yourself some tea."

She nodded, starting down the hall to the double kitchen doors. As she walked past him, she felt a prickle at the back of her head. The second she felt it, it pulled away. For a moment, she thought she had imagined it.

"Did you go into my study last night?"

Diana froze. In an instant, she recognized the source of the sensation—her father had dipped into her mind. For all she knew, he could still be there. In the time it took for her to turn back to him, she scrambled for a false memory. She had grabbed a quill and left. Nothing more.

"Yeah," she said. There was no point in lying about that—if he was asking, he already knew. "I forgot to buy a quill when I was out yesterday. I didn't know if you'd even be back by the time we left today, so I went in and grabbed the plainest one I could find."

She stared into his eyes as she obfuscated the truth. His spellwork was subtle, but she could tell by his gaze that he was searching for the lie in her words. She remembered resolutely—the ornate wooden quill box, the goosefeather quill, the well-worn carpet underfoot as she left.