Matilda, Child of Fire

HMV: Lady of the Lake

15 HMV: Lady of the Lake

"Standin' under the disco lights/Gonna let my hair hang down/High heels bought me that whiskey mouth/I'm back on my own time..."

–Gin Wigmore, song "Hangover Halo"

9:10 pm, Week 7, Palace Garden Fountain, Across from Litteraturhuset, Wergelandsveien 29, 0167 Oslo, Norway

Their date night...no, more like weekend...had gone wonderfully, in all its sauna-filled glory. Macy and Harry's most recent evening excursion took themselves near Litteraturhuset; they had dined at Bokbacka Restaurant Frogner, an upscale Scandinavian restaurant known for their succulent langoustines and authentic Nordic rye bread. As they rounded the corner, walking past Dronningdamen pond, Macy snuggled her head atop Harry's for a brief moment, enjoying the serene, tranquil bliss that came with a Sunday evening in the quaint city.

All of a sudden, they heard a splash, followed by a chorus of raucous shouts.

"Uh...Harry, what was that?" Macy tugged at her husband's sleeve. "Did you hear that?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe a couple of inebriated souls out on the town?" Macy shook her head.

"I could've sworn I heard a splash—I have a weird feeling about this..." her voice trailed off, meeting his eyes directly. Morgana? There was no way she would be out and about at this odd hour on her own, and even if she were—why would she be near a body of water? Highly unlikely, but just one way to be sure. Macy grabbed Harry's elbow in a dark corner of the sidewalk, orbing directly behind a tree that overlooked the fountain.

9:12 pm, Palace Garden Fountain, Across from Litteraturhuset, Wergelandsveien 29, 0167 Oslo, Norway

"She's in the fountain!" Macy heard a young man cry from the opposite end of the lamplit Slottsparken greenery.

"Who on earth is in the fountain?" yelled Harry, as he and Macy raced forward from where they had landed.

"The crazy redhead!" cried another youth, as a small crowd began to form around the body of water. Shit, shit, shit, Macy thought to herself, as they neared the water's edge, as they stared on in abject shock. Morgana, thoroughly drenched, wading about the fount without a care in the world.

"What's going on here?" Macy unsuccessfully attempted to flag down said youth, who ignored her as he snapped a handful of photos on his smartphone, no doubt to give to the Afterposten and whatever tabloids were all the rage in Oslo. She inwardly groaned and motioned Harry over who understood the depth and breadth of memory charms needed. "What the hell is she doing?" she frantically gestured in Morgana's direction.

"It appears she's Sylvia in "La Dolce Vita," as portrayed through Katherine in the movie "Under the Tuscan Sun,"" Harry answered. "She's very good, actually," he continued, after a moment's pause; he cleared his throat abruptly as Macy couldn't help but continue staring due to the utter absurdity of the situation.

"Is she drunk?" she whispered in Harry's ear.

He sighed. "I certainly hope so." Macy glanced at Morgana's form, which showed not-so-subtle symptoms of aging—her silvery threads were now visible, and the dewy visage she was fiercely proud of had acquired an extra few wrinkles that were impossible not to notice, even from a distance.

A sudden inspiration hit her. "You know," Macy remarked, channeling her near-perfect memory of "Under the Tuscan Sun," "in "La Dolce Vita," he goes in and he gets her. Mastroianni. He enters the water, makes contact, and he fishes her out." Oh gods, do I have to? Harry regarded Macy, rather unnerved by the scenario unfolding before their very eyes. Macy nodded. He removed his suit jacket and handed it to her as she patted his shoulder.