Hunted

Chapter 12: The Phoenix

Angela hunched over her cauldron in the basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place. A potions text lay open on the heavy wooden table in front of her, the spine of the book cracked at the page for Wolfsbane Potion. Angela's eyes scanned the instructions in the book. Her fingers sprinkled ingredients over the pot. The contents of the cauldron hissed and boiled. Angela watched, her face lit in the bluish light of the flame. She inhaled the putrid odor and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Her gaze returned to the book, searching the page for her place. She tapped a finger on the parchment blotched with stains and spills. Then she stared again in the kettle with a suspicious glare. The potion looked fine.

With a flick of her wrist, she snapped the book closed. Then she lowered the flame and allowed the contents of the cauldron to simmer. Her hand flipped a small hourglass resting on the table. Sand trickled through the waist of the glass, marking the time.

Angela moved off to the pantry and poured herself a glass of milk. Then she pulled out the leftover mincemeat pie and cut a slice. She sat down at the table to wait. Why was he taking so long?

Angela didn't have to wait for her answer. She heard the clicking of locks in the upstairs hallway and the tread of footsteps moving down the hall. Moments later, her husband appeared in the doorway of the cavernous kitchen. Angela rose to her feet and faced him.

"Well, what did he say?" she inquired, a hint of anxiety in her voice.

"Dumbledore thinks that we should go into hiding," Remus replied.

"Hiding?" Angela's green eyes flew open wide.

Remus crossed the kitchen. He glanced at the cauldron as he passed. He caught a whiff of the stench. His face contorted in a grimace. Then he plunked himself down in a chair opposite his wife.

"Yes," he said. "In Harry's dream, he heard Voldemort say, 'Get the Phoenix.' Dumbledore believes, and I concur, that the threat was intended for us. Dumbledore believes that the Death Eater attacks against members of the Order will intensify."

A worried look crossed Angela's face. She pushed her untouched plate of pie across the table toward him. Then she moved off to the cupboard to fetch a teapot.

"So what exactly does that mean for us?" she inquired. She filled the teapot with cold water and tapped it with her wand. Her anxious gaze flitted to his face.

Remus rose to his feet and strode to her side. His hands gripped her shoulders, turning her toward him. He stared down into her uplifted face. She could see the crease deepen on his forehead and the worry in his blue-grey eyes.

"It means that you're in danger," he whispered, staring into her eyes with an earnest expression. "If they want to harm you, even the Ministry of Magic is no longer safe. And there is nothing more important to me right now than your safety."

"So what do we do?" she inquired.

"We use the Fidelius Charm," he said, "and I take you into hiding until after the children are born. If we use the charm, no one can find us. We can even move back to Beecher's Knoll, if that is what you want."

"We can move back?" A hopeful smile flickered across Angela's lips, then faded. "But if the Ministry's not safe, I'll have to quit my job. How then will we live?"

"I will continue to work for the Order," he said.

"But that's not enough--," she protested, shaking her head.

"Shhh," he soothed, raising his fingers to her lips. "We also have the money that Sirius left me. There is enough there to last us for a while. You must trust me. It's for the best."

A shrill whistle accompanied by a hiss of steam erupted from the teapot. Angela silenced it. Then her gaze fell to the hourglass. She watched as the last grains of sand filtered into the bottom of the bulb. Time had run out. How ironic! Her mouth twisted into a wry grin.

She doused the flame on her potion and covered the cauldron with a clean dish towel. Her head dropped, her eyes now staring down at the table. The possibility of returning home heartened her, but the grim reality of their financial situation put a damper on her hope.

"Right then," Remus said. "That's settled." He moved to the cupboard and reached for a teacup. Then he poured himself some tea and settled into a chair. "The only thing left is to choose a Secret-Keeper."

"Ravena," Angela replied, without lifting her eyes from the table.

"Are you sure?" Remus said. "What with your aunt and all, I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"I trust Ravena," Angela countered, flashing him a determined look. "We have known each other since we were children. I know that she would never betray me. Who else could we pick? All our other friends are members of the Order and targets of these attacks."

"Well." Remus' hand strayed to his head. He ran his fingers through his hair and appeared to be thinking hard. "What about other family members?"

"My brothers are part of the Order too," Angela reasoned. "And my mother is a Muggle. As is your father. Neither one can defend against a Death Eater. And I wouldn't presume to endanger your mother with such a responsibility."

"Well, there must be someone else?" Remus said.

"Ravena is the perfect choice," Angela pressed. "She is talented in defenses against the Dark Arts. Besides, her family is so close to the Malfoys that she is the last person they'll suspect."

"All right," he conceded. But she could hear the resignation in his voice and see the doubt in his eyes.

"How soon can we do it?" Angela asked.

"That depends on Ravena," Remus replied. "But I don't see why we can't be back at Beecher's Knoll shortly after the New Year."

Back home. What a wonderful thought. A smile burst on Angela's face. She strolled over to Remus' chair. She leaned over his shoulders and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"What a lovely way to begin the New Year." Angela sighed and gave him a peck on the cheek. "And I shall not be sorry to have you all to myself again."

"Nor I," Remus rejoined, chuckling.

He took her hand. She sat down in the chair next to him. Angela watched as a puzzled expression crossed his face.

"Where is everyone?" He cast a quizzical glance at the ceiling.

"Molly and Arthur cut their trip short," Angela explained. "They arrived earlier today and took their children, Harry, and Hermione home with them. So it's been unusually quiet today."

"Just you and I tonight?" A warm smile spread over Remus' face.

"So it seems" Angela flashed him a shy look.

Just then, Angela heard the front door slam, followed by shuffling steps. Sounds of cursing filled the upstairs hallway. Angela recognized the voice of Mundungus Fletcher.

"I'd better go see what's happened," Remus said, rising to his feet. He shot Angela an apologetic glance.

Angela sighed and watched him go. Then she picked up the fork and jabbed it into the slice of mince pie. She ate a morsel and washed it down with her glass of milk.

* * * * * * * *

Ravena watched Angela and Remus disappear through the Floo Network in a puff a green smoke. She lounged on a leather divan in her office and stared into the fire. Her thoughts lingered for a moment on her cousin's plight and the Fidelius Charm that had just made Ravena their Secret-Keeper. A sigh escaped her lips. But she had problems of her own that involved a certain difficult Potions Master.

Her relationship with Snape had disintegrated with the December arrival of those two bleached-blonde bimbos of Ashbury's. Every time Ravena had sought a private moment with the Potions Master, one of those two tawdry women would pop up flaunting some paper-thin excuse. Was it her imagination? Or were those two flirting with her man?

As infuriating as she found the women's behavior, Ravena bristled even more at Snape's reaction. He seemed to revel in all the attention, especially when it raised Ravena's ire. And that was nothing compared to his response to Lance. Her eyes rolled.

Lance, the handsome twenty-something that she had hired to assist her with fencing lessons, had arrived this morning. Even Snape could not hide his vexation when he met the young man. Ravena recalled his look of deadly loathing and his cutting remarks.

What did he expect her to do? Ravena could not teach this unit on her own. Snape had refused to help her with the lessons. He had agreed that she should hire someone else. She couldn't very well hire an old, decrepit man, could she? No. She needed someone young, capable, and agile. And Lance fit the bill.

Ravena stared into the fire. Her eyes watched the flames lick the log as they consumed the wood. The morning hadn't started out very well. Could her day possibly get any worse?

She heard a tap on her office door. Her head spun around to face the newcomer. Lucius Malfoy strolled into her office, his serpent-handled walking stick in his gloved grasp. Ravena groaned.

"Tut, tut." Malfoy surveyed her with his cold, grey eyes. "Is that any way to greet a relative?"

"What brings you here today, Lucius?" she asked, rising to her feet.

"I merely came to inquire about my son's scholastic progress." He settled himself into a chair facing her desk and rested his cane on its arm. "Is there any crime in that?"

"No," Ravena replied, strolling to her desk. A sour expression rested on her otherwise lovely face. "You'll be pleased to know that Draco is doing quite well this year. He possesses a certain aptitude for weapons." She flashed Malfoy a knowing look. "He's received some private tutoring, no doubt."

"Yes, I have seen to his education myself," Malfoy replied with a complacent smile.

His hand reached for a dagger that lay on Ravena's desk. He turned the blade in his fingers. Ravena's eyes narrowed. She watched his movements with suspicion.

"This is a marvelous specimen," he remarked, eyeing the blade. "Quality workmanship."

"May I?" Ravena said, taking the knife from his hand. She strolled away from him with the dagger dangling from her delicate fingertips. "The finest goblin-forged blade. Razor sharp. Excellent balance. And just the perfect grip."

She spun around and gave the knife a fling. The blade whizzed through the air, hurtled toward Ravena's desk, and imbedded itself in the mahogany desk top. The tip of the dagger landed a mere inch from where Malfoy's hand rested.

"It appears that you missed," Malfoy sneered, eyeing her with cool amusement.

"Had I been aiming for you, Lucius," Ravena countered, "your hand would be pinned to my desk."

Malfoy chuckled, a wicked laugh. Ravena's china blue eyes flashed.

"What do you really want, Lucius?" she asked. "You didn't come all this way to inquire about your son, did you?"

"No," he replied. "As a matter of fact, not. I have a favor to ask of you."

"What is it this time?"

"The Phoenix," he replied, his expression turned suddenly business-like. "Your mother has it. And I would like to borrow it."

"The Phoenix?" Ravena countered. Her thoughts focused on the large diamond, one of many precious gems in her mother's jewelry collection. The diamond was one of the few jewels that was not cursed or possessed of known magical power. "You have plenty of money, Lucius. Why do you need Mother's diamond?"

"Personal reasons," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "None of which concern you."

"Why don't you just ask Mother for it?" Ravena said. "You know she would give you anything you ask."

"I would rather that you obtain it for me," Malfoy said. His fingers skimmed the top of her desk with an idle sweep. His gaze flicked to her face. "Without her knowledge."

Ravena's eyebrows shot up. "And if I refuse?"

"Then I shall be forced to have another little talk with your mother regarding a certain Potions Master." An evil glint appeared in his cold eyes.

"Be my guest." Ravena gave her shoulders an indifferent shrug.

"What?" Malfoy's eyes widened. He chuckled. "Do I detect trouble in paradise?"

"Severus is your friend," Ravena countered. "Don't you talk?"

"Friend is such an overused word," Malfoy sneered. "Severus and I are of use to one another. Much as you, my dear Ravena, are of use to me."

His gloved hand stoked her cheek. Heat rose up through her face. She jerked her head away, recoiling from his loathsome touch.

"I have done your bidding in the past, it's true," Ravena spat, her eyes flashing with defiance. "But I will not steal from my own parents. If you want the gem, get it yourself."

Malfoy's eyes sparked with anger at being refused. With one swift motion, his right hand grasped the dagger and ripped it from the desk. He spun Ravena around. His left arm closed around her neck and pinned her body to his chest. He jabbed the point of the lethal blade against her heart.

Ravena gasped with surprise. She grabbed hold of his left arm in a vain attempt to free her throat. Her right hand searched her pocket for her wand. Her eyes stared at his reflection in the mirror mounted behind her desk. She could see the cold fury dancing in his eyes. She could feel his hot breath against her neck.

"You had best reconsider my request," Malfoy hissed. "It would be a shame to scar so perfect a breast."

For a moment, Ravena stood frozen in Malfoy's clutches. Her mind raced to find a solution to her predicament. The gem was a meaningless trinket, after all. Was defiance worth her life? She hesitated.

The dagger dropped from Malfoy's hand and fell to the carpet at her feet. His groping hand brushed across her bosom. Ravena cringed. She sprang away from him. Her wand, clutched in her shaking hand, now pointed at his chest.

Malfoy laughed, cruel and heartless. He strode to the door, gathering up his cane with a sweeping gesture. At the door, he turned for one last parting remark.

"You will find that I am not an unreasonable man," he said. "I will give you time to consider my proposal. You have exactly two weeks."

He shut the door behind him with a click. His unpleasant leer lingered in Ravena's memory. Hatred surged in her breast. What should she do?

* * * * * * * *

At a soiree at the Graves Mansion, pure-blood witches and wizards, dressed to the nines, mingled and chattered. House-elves laden with salvers of savory refreshments and hors-d'oeuvres circulated among the guests. Ravena hid by the punch bowl and surveyed the crowd with a look of absolute boredom on her face. She swirled the wine in her glass, inhaled the bouquet, then raised the goblet to her ruby lips.

A week had passed since her disagreeable meeting with Malfoy. True to his word, he had not contacted her about the diamond. Her week had been so busy that she had not given much thought to her dilemma. But tonight, faced with the likely prospect of seeing Malfoy, she considered her options.

Should she steal the gem from her own mother for him? Not if she could help it. But if she resisted, she knew the consequences would be unpleasant. The sweet wine turned bitter on her tongue at the prospect. She grimaced, eyed the wine with a suspicious stare, and set her glass down on the linen-draped table.

Her gaze swept over the faces of the guests once more and lit upon the imposing figure of the newly-elected Minister of Magic. Minister Cornwall conversed with one of his aides on the far side of the room. Dozens of medals adorned the chest of his crisp white dress uniform with the fringed epaulets. His hat was tucked under his arm and a baton rested in his right hand. Light glinted off of his balding pate. The huge mustache bristled as he spoke. Ravena stared, intrigued. Here was someone that she wanted to meet.

Ravena's hands smoothed the front of her crimson velvet gown. She checked her reflection in the side of the silver punch bowl. Her fingers tucked a stray tendril of ebony hair that had fallen from her chignon back into place. She pressed her lips together to smooth her lipstick. Then she strolled across the room toward the Minister.

Without meaning to eavesdrop, she overheard bits of the conversation between the Minister and his aide. She was taken aback. Instead of the affable populist portrayed in the press, this Minister was every bit the intimidating general.

"I don't care how you do it, but I want that meeting with the ring leader of the dementors," Cornwall blustered. He towered over his assistant and gestured with the baton. "Arrange it. If they will not meet, send in the Aurors to round them up. I will not have disorder on my watch. If they want a fight, then that is exactly what we will give them."

"Yes, sir."

The aide gave a smart salute, pivoted on one heel, and marched from the room. Cornwall turned with an angry stare. But when his eyes lighted on Ravena, the hardened expression on his face melted. The ends of the mustache twitched, as a broad smile worked across his face. The military demeanor gave way to charm.

"I'm sorry to intrude." Ravena held out a delicate hand. "I merely wished to introduce myself. I am Ravena Hawkins."

"Oh, I say. No bother at all." Minister Cornwall took her hand in his. "Sparticus Wilfred Cornwall III at your service. Miss Hawkins, is it?" The Minister raised Ravena's hand to his lips and kissed it. The mustache tickled the back of her hand.

"It is a great honor to meet you, Minister Cornwall." Ravena fluttered her eyelashes and withdrew her hand.

"On the contrary," Minister Cornwall rejoined. "The pleasure is all mine. So what is a lovely lady, such as yourself, doing without an escort at this splendid function?"

"My normal escort was unavailable this evening." Ravena cast the Minister an inviting smile.

"Then if you will allow me, I offer my services." The Minister executed a deep bow and extended his arm to Ravena.

A look of delight flashed over Ravena's face. She reached to take his arm. This evening might not be a total loss after all.

But before the Minister could take hold of her hand, Lucius Malfoy cut in. He snatched Ravena's hand in his gloved grasp and raised it to his lips. Ravena frowned with displeasure. She pulled at her hand, but Malfoy held it fast.

"Good evening, Ravena," he said, kissing her hand. He kept Ravena's hand clasped in his grasp and tucked it under his own arm, then he turned to the Minister. "Good evening, General. I see that you have met my cousin's daughter."

"What?" The Minister looked flustered. The salt-and-pepper mustache twitched. He snapped to attention. "You and the young lady are related?"

"Yes, didn't you know?" A disarming grin appeared on Malfoy's sharp face. "Medea Hawkins, Ravena's mother, is my cousin."

"Medea Hawkins is your mother?" Minister Cornwall's bushy brows shot skyward.

"Why?" Ravena glanced from the Minister to Malfoy with a puzzled stare. "What did Mother do now?"

"Didn't your mother tell you, Ravena?" Malfoy chuckled. "She has filed charges of voter fraud against the Minister. She has demanded a full investigation into the elections."

"I knew Mother was upset, but I had no idea she'd done that." Ravena's china blue eyes popped open wide. Then she flashed the Minister a look of contrition. "I'm sorry. Mother is a bit zealous when it comes to Lucius."

"Well, you can tell her for me that the independent investigators did find evidence of fraud," Cornwall barked. His jovial grin had vanished, replaced with an austere glare of disapprobation.

"And what, pray tell, did they find?" Malfoy cocked an eyebrow, his face the picture of innocence.

"In your district, Lucius, you'll be interested to know that twice the number of registered voters cast ballots," Cornwell boomed, puffing out his chest so that the medals jangled. "Not to mention a surprising number of deceased voters. Highly irregular."

"Really?" The corner of Malfoy's mouth twitched. "I had no idea."

"Well, if you'll excuse me," Cornwall replied, with a curt nod to Ravena and Malfoy. "I must greet our hostess."

Without further word, Cornwall spun on his heels and marched off. Malfoy frowned. He watched Cornwall with a calculating gleam in his cold gray eyes. Ravena wrenched her hand from his grasp.

"What did you do that for?" she spat, eyeing him with contempt. "You ruined the only chance I had for a perfectly good evening."

"And where is Severus this evening?" Malfoy's eyes glittered with malice.

"If you must know, he wouldn't come with me." Ravena sighed.

"Tut, Tut," Malfoy replied with a look of amusement. "More trouble in paradise?"

"These days, I seem to attract only undesired attention," Ravena groused, furrowing her brow. "That bumbling Ashbury won't give me a moment of peace. Every time I turn around, there he is. You would think he was stalking me." She glared at Malfoy. "And now you wreck my evening." She arched a thin eyebrow, a sarcastic smirk on her ruby lips. "And where is your lovely bride?"

"Narcissa is visiting her sister," Malfoy replied. A disconcerting grin spread over his face. "So I happen to be unescorted as well. How fortunate for me, since I did want a word with you. Have you given any consideration to my proposal?"

"If you must know, I haven't decided." Ravena shot him a disdainful look. "And your behavior tonight is not helping your case."

Malfoy appeared unconcerned. He glanced around the room. Then his face lit with a malicious smile. Ravena's eyes flickered in the direction of his gaze. A handsome wizard with long blond hair, dressed in lilac wizard robes, had spotted her and was headed her way. The man shot a spritz of breath spray in his mouth and flashed a grin full of pearly white teeth. She groaned, her face reflecting her revulsion.

"Ah, here comes Fredrick Sharp," Malfoy sneered. "Perhaps I should leave you two lovebirds alone."

"Lucius, you wouldn't dare," Ravena spat. Her eyes narrowed in a threatening glare.

"Wouldn't I?" Malfoy's expression turned menacing. "You have one more week. Good night, Ravena."

Malfoy strode off, leaving her in the company of her undesired suitor. An exasperated sigh gushed from Ravena's lips. She rolled her eyes and faced her unwelcome companion with resignation. Would this string of bad luck ever end?

* * * * * * * *

One week later, Ravena graded essays at her desk. She scanned a parchment, marked a grade in the upper corner, and laid her quill down on the desk top. She pressed her back into the cushions of the chair. Her hand swiped over her tired eyes. She glanced out the window at the bleak January sky, bitter, cold, and cloudless. She shivered.

She looked back down at the piles of parchments that demanded her attention. She couldn't deal with any more of that today. Her hand swept them aside and then pulled a delicate china teacup and saucer toward her. She took a sip and swallowed the warming brew. Her hand reached for a newspaper, her eyes skimming the headlines for the day's news. Her gaze locked on an article halfway down the third page.

DIAMOND NABBED BY GLOVED HAND

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has confirmed a break-in Tuesday evening at the country estate of Mr. and Mrs. James Hawkins. A large diamond, part of the Hawkins' vast jewelry collection, was reported stolen. The victims could not be reached for comment.

"The thief was after a particular jewel," Madam Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, announced in a public address earlier this afternoon. "Although there were other gems in the safe at the time, only the one diamond was purloined. This was no petty criminal. Indications are that this was the handiwork of the international jewel thief known as the Black Gauntlet. I have assigned my best Aurors to this case. We will track down this culprit and bring him to swift justice."

Chief Inspector Bilius Gnash of International Wizard Intelligence was quick to volunteer international support for the investigation. The reaction among the wizard elite was skeptical.

"It is indeed a pity when we cannot feel secure in our own homes," Lucius Malfoy, cousin of the victim, commented. "Our new Minister had been elected on the promise that he would restore our domestic security. This theft is just one more proof that he has failed our expectations. As long as the criminal responsible remains at large, I, for one, will not rest at ease."

Minister of Magic, Sparticus Cornwall, was quick to respond to the criticism...

Ravena mused to herself. Why hadn't Mother mentioned anything about the break-in? Usually the woman would have worked herself into a tirade over such things. At least, she could have sent a note.

Ravena reread the article, pausing on Malfoy's remarks. Of course, Lucius would be angry about the theft. He wanted that jewel for himself, but he was not going to get it. A self-satisfied smirk formed on those ruby lips. And as long as he thought that the Black Gauntlet had stolen the diamond, he would not be troubling her for it. Now this latest news was a bit of good luck!

Ravena folded the newspaper and dropped it in the waste basket. Then she rose from her desk and disappeared through a doorway into her private chambers. Her feet strolled across the padded oriental carpet to her chiffonier. She opened the top drawer and peered inside. Her fingers searched among the silky folds of lingerie for a velvet pouch. Her hand closed around the desired object and pulled it out.

She extracted a large gem from the bag and held it up to the light. Her eyes gazed at the crystalline structure of the brilliant diamond, noting the fiery sparks of crimson and gold that lit the interior of the gem. The Phoenix!

Why did Lucius want this gem? Obviously Mother had lied to her, when she had said that this jewel was devoid of magic. What powers did it possess?

Ravena's musings were cut short by a knock on her office door. She stuffed the gem back into the pouch, tossed the sack back into the drawer, buried it under a pile of lingerie, and slammed the drawer shut. Her gaze flicked to the mirror mounted above the chest of drawers. A movement caught her attention, the scurrying of a rat.

Her head whipped around to see the rat, staring up at her with its beady little eyes fixed on her face. Again she noticed the odd glittering front paw. But before she could get a closer look, the creature scuttled under the bed and out of sight. A strange foreboding ran through her body.

Ravena stared at the bed. She fought a sudden urge to dive underneath in pursuit of the rat. For a brief instant, her countenance took on a feline appearance. The face of a long-haired black cat with startling blue eyes replaced her ivory skin and delicate features.

The relentless pounding from the other room recalled her attention. In the blink of an eye, her human features reappeared. She turned and left her chambers, glancing behind her for one last quick look before closing the door.