HEDWIG

CHAPTER FOUR

THE NECROMANCER

On the roof of Sprintwitches, Cecelia was perched, unchanging and unnoticed by the passing witches and wizards below in the street of Hogsmeade. She had been sitting there for several hours, collecting a little snow in her feathers, waiting for any sign that aurors had followed her.

But after a while, and still no sign of the Ministry, Cecelia believed the coast clear. The owl spread her wings wide, shook off the snow, and dove down into the side alley. Cecelia reappeared from between the two buildings, human again, and stepped out into the street.

Her breath conjured a thick cloud of moisture as she tightened her robes around her body, fighting against the biting wind. She lifted her hood up over her head to hide her likeness and continued to pick her way along the street, avoiding as many people as possible.

When she reached the Hog's Head Inn, she glanced anxiously over her shoulder before pushing open the door. Inside, she was greeted by the familiar and comforting scent of her childhood. Her eyes searched the surrounding area for any sign of Aberforth, but came up short. He must be in the back, she thought, because the only people visible here were the patrons.

Cecelia skirted past a man obscured by a Daily Prophet and snuck past a group of haggard witches on her way to the bar. She walked past a man with his face slumped in a bowl of soup – his snores bubbling up from the green liquid – and entered through a side door into a narrow stairwell.

Aberforth lived in the lower level of the Hog's Head Inn for as long as Cecelia could remember. If she wasn't at the castle she was here. Eating her weight in soup and bread. When she was angry at her uncle for putting Harry in danger, it was here she had fled and hid until he was killed - like a child hiding under the sheets. For three days, she sat on Albus's tomb. She didn't eat or sleep. And when Voldemort came to claim his wand, she hid here, again. Regretting just watching him do it. Like a child, shaking in the leaves. A coward, she had not stopped him.

Standing on the landing, looking down, Cecelia could see that the door was left cracked open. An ominous feeling washed over her, making her mouth dry. She dipped her hand into her empty robe pocket, only to remember that her wand was currently in the possession of the Ministry of Magic. She cursed under her breath as she descended the stairs, unarmed.

It was over. If they wanted her, they were going to have her, because there was no fighting back without a wand. She was responsible for whatever happened to Aberforth and she wasn't going to let him suffer because of what she was. She'd already put him in too much danger. It's not fair, especially after everything he'd done for her. For the Order.

She pressed her back against the wall, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, as she edged closer. If anything, she was praying it was the Ministry and not someone else. Cecelia peered around the corner of the entryway and pushed the door open wider.

When she entered Aberforth's home she found nothing. Would they have taken him to the Ministry as well? When she walked completely inside Aberforth's apartment, the door slammed shut behind her and the aurors who had attempted to apprehend her earlier smirked victoriously.

Cecelia's heart sank.

She lifted her hands in surrender as Pritchard grabbed her by the robes and shoved her forward. "Can't hide from us anymore," he sneered in her ear. Pritchard punched her in the mouth and kicked her behind the knees. She dropped and hit the ground. Pritchard forced her to kneel and bound her.

"Cecelia!" She could hear Aberforth's strangled voice from the other room. "Don't hurt her, or I'll!-" and then he was muzzled.

"Stop. You have me, ok. Leave him out of this!" she cried.