Chimaera Of Judgement

1: Shadows Of The Past

ATTENTION: SOME LOCATIONS AND PERSONS © J K ROWLING/WARNER. STORY AND ORIGINAL CHARACTERS/ELEMENTS ©2010 AUTHOR.
RATED PG-13 [for mild language, fantasy violence and negligible mature situations/dialogue]. I honestly don't think it rates any higher than "T", but let me know if you believe otherwise.

o o o

"The Grim is upon us at last!"

The door to Sybill Trelawney's classroom banged open and the woman herself dashed inside, shawls and robes billowing about unnaturally. Chest heaving, she conjured a gunnysack from nothing and began shovelling over a dozen crystal balls inside.

"Mark my words, they'll not take us without a fight! Oh, had I but foreseen this!"

She was speeding past her favourite winged armchair when one of her many bracelets caught on the lace shawl draped over the back.

"Damn these infernal-" She sighed impatiently, magnified eyes blinking rapidly behind her thick spectacles. "Of course, I really should put them away, wouldn't want to break any."

In a few strides she had crossed to one of the many curtains hanging from the wall, concealing the entrance to her rather small personal chambers. There, upon the dresser in the corner, was an old wooden jewelry box. Opening it with a tap of her wand, she began pulling off her many bits and baubs and laying them inside.

"Mother's silver locket, Great-Great-Grandmother's ring - oh, Aunt Prudentia's brooch! If I ever lost-"

An explosion sounded from below; with a yelp, she unceremoniously stuffed the rest into the box, magically locked it, caught up the bag and dashed from both her bedchamber and classroom, screaming, "The Inner Eye tells me you shall rue this day!"

o o o

The icy chill that rippled through Narcissa Malfoy's body seemed to begin between the shoulders. This feeling, the one of fear and deepest despair, always revived in her that old curiosity - why there? Why did it originate from between her shoulderblades, and not from the head, or perhaps the heart? It quickly spread farther, sapping cheer and hope from every corner of her body, yet... But she did not dwell on this - something to ponder after her work was done here.

The bumbling Matthias Peele, a low rung in the Auror department, paced beside her, quaking so badly it was a wonder his Patronus (a GERBIL?) did not flicker and fade. Nevertheless, he'd been the best the Ministry of Magic would spare for this lowly task, and she had to remind herself how fortunate they'd been - SHE'D been - to get them to agree to her request at all. It had taken them ages to make up their minds, not to mention how long Narcissa herself had dawdled before putting things into motion. But tonight, at last, she could be shut of her obligation.

"H-here we are," Peele whispered, running his hand through his wispy brown pate as his silvery spell scampered around them, directed by his wand. The forbidding cloaked wardens didn't dare come near as long as the Patronus Charm was in effect, and they therefore drifted just out of the light's range, somehow watching the two intruders with their unseeing, eyeless faces. "I'll st-stand guard while you take care of... well, you know."

"Mmm." She spared him no more thought than this as she raised her wand and tapped the lock, listened for the CLICK!, and slipped inside the cell.

"Ahh, Cissy... yes, yes, they said you'd be calling soon. How's Lucius?"

Narcissa did not mistake her sister's leering smile, the flash of blackening teeth, for concern or sympathy. "You would know better than I, wouldn't you?"