ꜱᴇʀᴘᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ | ᴛᴏᴍɪᴏɴᴇ

Whispers from the Past, ch. 39

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

With lessons over, Harmony was at a loss for what to do next. She had expected some of her students to approach her afterwards—to ask questions or receive pointers—but none did. Some had eyed her timidly before bowing out of the tent. She suspected her anger over Barty's antics frightened them a little. After all, they didn't know yet whether she possessed the same short temperament as their Dark Lord. But she'd show them. She'd teach them with the kindness and patience he hardly showed his Death Eaters. The only question was whether her failure to punish Barty would lead her students to take advantage of her, like Voldemort had warned.

She had wanted to curse Barty. But in front of all those people? If she had cursed him, maybe even killed him, she would have lost their compassion; they would fear her and she would be no more merciful than the Dark Lord—at least in their eyes. The more she thought about it, the more relieved she was that she hadn't harmed Barty. Her students needed to see that under emotional stress she could keep under control and not give in to her dangerous urges.

However, if they did try to take advantage of her kindness, she would have no choice but to deploy some form of punishment. She hoped beyond hope that that moment never came. She wanted her lessons to be a safe place where these kids could come and learn. Outside, they were surrounded by dangerous followers who eagerly anticipated the Dark Lord's destructive plans, while at least inside her recreational tent she had some semblance of control.

Harmony promised herself she would let nothing take that sense of control away from her. Especially not Barty.

She left the tent and looked around at the flurry of activity while wondering what to do next. She thought of looking for Voldemort and keeping him company while he worked. He was no doubt plotting away on how to best infiltrate the Ministry—information she exceedingly found appealing. But he was in another one of his sour moods; she could sense it even at that moment. Agitation, annoyance. She couldn't tell if it had anything to do with planning his impending attack, but she knew it was a bad mood that would only worsen at the news of how she'd handled Barty. By the end of the day, he'll have heard it down the grapevine. She wasn't looking forward to being at the focus of his anger, but it was unavoidable.

Harmony sauntered around the campsite, letting her thoughts drift, and she found herself back at the children's tent she had visited the other day. Their laughter rang out from the open tent flap where she could see the little ones running around while the witches chased them. She smiled a little to herself and something deep within her began to ache with yearning.

There was a small tug on her dress and she looked down, meeting a pair of wide blue eyes. The little black-haired girl she'd met earlier, Aislin, was standing there smiling up at her.

"Hello there," Harmony said, bending to a knee so they saw eye-to-eye.

"Hi," the girl chirped. "Are you busy?"

Harmony gave a small laugh. "I'm a little bored, actually."

"Good. I've wanted to talk to you, but Mother said I shouldn't because you're busy."

"Well, you've caught me on a free moment. I'm glad. I've wanted to talk to you, too."

Aislin took Harmony's hand and she let the girl guide her. They left the clamor of the campsite and traded it for the rush of the small river on the far north side. Aislin plopped down on a patch of grass, crossing her legs, and beckoned her to do the same. Harmony folded her legs beneath her, careful to find a dry patch so she wouldn't dirty her dress.

The girl's pretty eyes watched the water drifting by as it glinted in the sunlight, and Harmony got the feeling she was waiting for her to have the first word. It was then Harmony sensed that there was something special about this girl, something wise and knowing that other children her age lacked. She had wanted to start out delicately, as she regularly would have when speaking to a child, but now she decided to jump straight to the point.