Fred and George and the Toilers of Trouble (Year 1) ✔

Chapter 26:10

The memories were fluctuating faster now.

They were standing on a long staircase, enclosed on all sides in warm, tawny wood. There was a ray of golden light coming from an open door on the landing below. It was fluttering with hectic shadows. And then two girls rushed out, squealing. It was Moira and Myrtle. Professor Mulligan placed a hand over her mouth, her eyes drifting to Hagrid.

Two voices could be heard shouting – the booming voice of young Hagrid, and the silken tone of Aruzula Darc.

"How did you get in here?"

"Climbed down the well in the common room, didn' I?"

The observers of the Pensieve descended the steps and gathered in the room. It was small and round, circled in four-poster beds with far too many pillows. The twins looked genuinely confused. They were in a part of the castle they'd never seen.

"Where are we?" asked Fred.

"Hufflepuff dormitories?" George suggested in response.

"Yes. Our old bedroom," said Professor Mulligan, dropping her hand.

Beside them, Hagrid was harrumphing next to Aruzula, who was sitting at her mirror, brushing her dark hair in long, lazy strokes.

"Show me yer wand!" he demanded.

"What? Why do you want to see my —"

Hagrid pivoted toward the nearest chest of drawers and tore it open, tossing things aside until he found it. A gasp of betrayal left him, as he drew out the wand and then threw it onto her four-poster. All of the onlookers could see that the hemlock wood of her wand had gone completely black.

"Blood Magic!" he replied, looking fiercely suspicious. "It's the only thing tha' can turn a wand tha' color."

Aruzula rolled her eyes. "Been spending more time in the library, have we?"

He stormed over and spun her around. After inspecting her face, Hagrid shoved her back.

"Jus' as I'd thought. The brush strokes were startin' ter show...now they're gone! Yer usin' Dark Arts to slow the transformation!"

"And what if I am?!" she yelled back.

The young Hagrid was shaking his head, frowning in disgust. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He retreated a step, almost in defense, and then looked distantly out the enchanted underground windows. The setting was peaceful. The glass was made to look like the stretch of lawn beyond the castle.

"Where's my cat?" he asked. His voice had softened rapidly.

Aruzula turned back to her mirror and resumed her brushing.

"What cat?"

"ARNOLD! What d'ya do with 'im?!" he pleaded, tears streaking.

"I don't know anything about your cat," she replied, with deviant ease. "Or your rat, or your spider, or your toads, your snakes, your favorite owls that have gone missing from the Owlery...or those damn Blast-Ended Skrewts!"

"Yeh gone an' done it, didn' yeh? An' with tha' Slytherin's help, I'll bet," said Hagrid, looking repulsed at the sight of her. "Admit it! Yeh killed 'im!"

After a very long and considered pause, she answered.

"I was alone. Clearly, it didn't hold. The painting is still empty, and my search for a remedy carries on. Time is running out, Hagrid. I'm going back inside," she said, running the brush more firmly through her hair. "You'll be happy to know that I will be out of your life very soon."