Dream & Shadow

41* Unexpected Exposure

Leonor hurried through a busy Diagon Alley until the airy buzz changed into crude slang. Her wand was at the ready when she entered into the area devoted to a miserable side of life. The received missive had been held together by a black hair bobble. It looked like one of her own. The message expressed no urgency, but something made Leonor believe her help was honestly required. She left Hogwarts quickly after the departure of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang following some teachers into Hogsmeade.

Leonor checked bleached signposts while rushing through airless backstreets. It could be only a few more, narrow, cobbled streets before reaching the address. Tatty figures murmured indecipherable words when she passed. The sound of it created goose pimples on Leonor's skin. Despite knowing Knockturn Alley she'd never been in this far away area. At the end of the street, she entered into a backyard with a large gate. Leonor murmured 'Aloha-pax', controlling the mood of the surroundings. Everything pointed to a warm welcome, no distorting interferences stopped Leonor to ring the golden bell.

Nobody opened. A hunchback with a cane called something about 'closed since yesterday' and walked away with a cackle. The house held no name or number. The shutters were closed, maybe just because the sun shone mercilessly. Leonor rang again. There was no answer. She knocked forcefully and hoped to be still in time.

"Go away!" hissed a high-pitched female voice from inside.

"I've been told you are in need of a healer," called Leonor.

"We help ourselves. There's nothing to do for you." The voice ranted and swore until another deeper voice spoke calmly. Leonor knocked again.

"Who are you?" came it muffled through the closed entrance.

"Leonor Scott, a healer. I received information that you need help."

The gate opened a crack and Leonor squeezed herself inside. Her eyes adapted slowly to the half-light. The woman with the deep voice was about fifty; heavily painted and dressed in a housecoat. The room was stuffed with comfortable furniture. A golden pole marked the middle of a small dance floor. More eyes stared at Leonor in the dim room. The interior and clothes of the girls betrayed the profession. A heavy scent of vanilla wafted through the brothel. Nobody smiled and the illusion of buyable love didn't withstand the silence, everything issued an air of mundanity.

"Who gave you the information?" asked the older woman urgently and Leonor handed over the parchment with the hairband.

"There's no signature. Who sent you?" drawled the brothel madam.

"I don't know. I hoped you'd recognized the hairband." The madam only frowned and replied with disdain. "Black isn't our favourite colour. It's your style, Sweetie."

Leonor shrugged indifferently but agreed inwardly. "Well, if my help isn't needed. Have a good day!" Leonor turned to head back into the sunlit street. Just the large heavy door stopped her from leaving quickly.

"Wait!" The madam looked a bit friendlier and when Leonor confirmed that neither St. Mungo's nor the ministry sent her then she could follow into a small room upstairs.

A woman in Leonor's age sat on a large bed. A child cuddled up in the woman's lap. Both held the hand of another woman, obviously sleeping or unconscious. For an instant, Leonor thought that she'd been here already. It was a delusion; she could have seen the light-blue curtains and the auburn-haired woman at any of her patient's houses.

The madam hissed impatiently towards the woman on the bed. "Zora, let go for a while!"

"But it happened because of me! They wanted me! They always wanted me!" Zora almost screamed.