A Mortal Enemy

Chapter 13: The Smell of Dragons

Ezmerelda returned five minutes later carrying a silvery tray. On it, sat two teacups (instead of one as requested), some biscuits, cakes and to Kara's dismay, chocolate eclairs courtesy of Durmstrang's kitchen elves. It wasn't a dessert they made often as French food wasn't common this far north. Ezmerelda gave Kara a sheepish look as she poured milk, sugar and tea into a cup and placed it gently on the lab. Then with a pop, she disappeared.

Not realizing how thankful she was for the tea, Kara raised the delicate cup to her lips and gently sipped. The warmth spread quickly through her body and enhanced the nostalgic feelings that had arisen the moment she stepped into Polishnikov's quarters. Ezmerelda had even taken out the special china that Kara suspected Nabokov had bought many years ago as a testament to her need to grow up behaving like a lady. It seemed as though House Elves were as capable of being gripped by nostalgia as people were.

It wasn't until Kara took a deep breath and set the cup down that she realized Hermione was pouring herself one staring curious at her professor.

"First we must compile all the ingredients we have available and send out for what is not here. I suspect, however, we will find everything except the Veela blood," Kara said calmly as she turned around.

On the shelves behind her, she looked intently for Polishnikov's copy of Magical Reversal Remedies. It was on the top most shelf and Kara pulled it down with her mind. It fell open immediately to page 402; the page outlining Yurlome. It was as if fate had already prepared the book for use tonight.

Hermione read off the list of ingredients as Kara gathered them from the cupboards. It had taken all of her seventh year and both years as his apprentice to get used to his bizarre organization techniques. There is no way Hermione would have ever found where he kept the ostrich gizzards - between the elephant gall bladders and the fruit fly eyes. Kara wondered if Polishnikov organized this so that students wouldn't steal ingredients; it certainly was an effective method.

When everything except the Veela blood had been gathered, Kara set Hermione off to prepare the first ingredients. They would need to take turns sleeping, Kara deduced after reading over the potion's recipe. The book was heavily illustrated with pictures of Witches and Wizards losing their eyes during the beginning states of the brewing. Thus, Hermione would sleep first so that Kara could give the potion some much needed experienced supervision. Besides, once Hermione had rested she would be in a better position to deal with the temperamental potion.

The young girl proved to be the talented potions students that Snape often alluded to, but would never admit. Had Hermione been in his own house, she would have found herself in his laboratory night after night honing her skills as his apprentice. But Kara had seen visions of his detest for the know-it-all that plagued his classroom and showed up his own House. That she was a friend of Potters' only deepened his dislike for her. But Kara was now in a position to offer Hermione a place of repute in which to enhance her studies. These two nights would be a test of sorts in that direction.

"Smaller length wise," Kara instructed as she picked up one of the cauldrons Hermione had scrubbed. "The dragon skin needs to be no longer than your thumbnail." Hermione nodded and began carefully re-cutting.

Within a few hours they were adding the first ingredients to the cauldron.

- - -

Polishnikov stumbled into his lab just before Hermione was to take her first shift sleeping. His black robes were wet in places and Kara was sure it was blood, not water. In his left arm he was cradling a silver capped glass jar. Inside, Kara could see the syrupy opaque liquid: Veela blood.

"Professor," Kara said in an alarmed voice as she rushed towards him. "What happened?"

"It is best you not ask," he said blankly. "And best there are as few witnesses to it as possible." Polishnikov glanced briefly in Hermione's direction.

He gave Kara the jar and reached up with a hand and cupped her cheek lovingly. Kara could smell the iron from human blood on his hands. Her old Potions master then patted her cheek twice with a deeply saddened look on his face and then turned to limp to his rooms. She was left with a heavy heart, wondering precisely what he had gone through to do this for her.

Kara put Hermione to bed in an antechamber shortly after with the intent of waking her in eight hours. It was a period of time in which Kara added the first few volatile ingredients and watched them simmer over the flame. Ezmerelda piled a plate full of eggs and sausages in front of the fire on a warming tray. Kara found herself tempted to eat them as a means to keep her awake for the remaining time that Hermione slept.

To Kara's amazement, Hermione woke herself up just past lunchtime. She stumbled out of the antechamber and into the toilet. She emerged looking fresh and her hair was charmed up into a ponytail. Even her black robes looked freshly laundered.

"Where are we at?" Hermione asked with an air of professional maturity.

"I have just added the mongoose fat. It will need to simmer three more hours. Then you will need to add the next four ingredients. As long as you follow the recipe all should be well," Kara replied with a yawn.

Hermione nodded positively in reply and glanced at the potions book.

"Professor Polishnikov will check in on you periodically. If you have questions do not hesitate to ask."

Hermione looked up from the book. "I think I can manage this."

They both gave a start as the doorknob to the lab turned while Kara was wiping up the smelly mongoose fat from the cutting board.

"It is only me," Nabokov said as he slid through the narrow opening he'd left for himself. "How is it coming?"

"As expected," Kara replied. She could tell from Nabokov's demeanor that he hadn't really come to check up on their progress.

"I wondered if I could persuade you to take a walk with me. Under your Invisibility Cloak of course."

Kara shot him a perplexed look, wondering immediately what he was up to. He was visibly avoiding her eyes.

"Fine, but we need to make it quick. I will be back," she directed at Hermione, who had already placed herself authoritatively behind the cauldron.

After taking her Invisibility Cloak from the rack nearby and draping it over herself, Kara followed Nabokov down the hall and up to the main portion of the school. He paused outside of the classroom he normally taught in just long enough to ensure Kara was still following. He then stepped into the room, which was filled with students.

The Dark Arts classroom hadn't changed at all since Kara had last taken her classes here. It had high ceilings and thousands of books on the shelves that lined the walls. Nabokov himself walked confidently towards the front of his classroom, pausing momentarily at some student's desks to criticize their work and peer over the shoulders of others. He then stopped in front of a young boy that Kara couldn't see for the taller one behind him.

Her mentor then looked at her knowingly before staring down at the boy in front of him. She stepped carefully into the room further to get a view of what was happening. At that moment, she nearly fainted.

Covered in a blood red aura, the boy stared wide-eyed back up at his professor who simply glared in response. In a moment of fear, the young student then returned to his work, hastily writing. His neighbors were attempting to ignore the unwanted attention their professor was paying him, but were failing to hide their curiosity. Heads turned slightly and a pair of boys in the corner gave each other a knowing smile.

Kara turned and walked out of the room quickly and practically ran down the hall. When a door slammed behind her she turned to see Nabokov staring at her. He nodded his head in the other direction and Kara followed obediently.

There was a moment of silence after Kara had removed her cloak and began pacing the room. She looked sadly on the dim, damaged walls - the evidence of her harsh training. This room was nothing like the chamber Snape had prepared at Hogwarts. It was plain, cold and unwelcoming. It was as much a dungeon as Harry's chamber was a palace.

"I would have expected you to be elated," Nabokov said finally. Kara, despite herself could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She remained facing the wall with the Invisibility Cloak folded tightly over her arm.

"What did she say to you?" Kara blurted out suddenly.

"What? Who?"

"Sydney."

"I have not heard back from her yet," Nabokov replied tentatively. "I wrote her just last night."

"No," Kara whispered as she turned to face him. "The prediction. What were her words precisely."

Nabokov shook his head in confusion. "Prediction?"

"About Severus and I." Her mentor stared in amazement at her as he walked closer.

"Kara, it hardly matters..."

"Tell me! Now!" Kara shouted. She saw the flames in the room flicker and knew that her emotions were running high. She took a deep breath. "I want to know every word."

"I don't understand... why is this so important?"

Kara drew closer to him and looked down at the man who was no longer the tall overbearing taskmaster.

"I need to know and I'm not above using creative methods to make you tell me," she whispered. Nabokov merely stared at her in disbelief.

"Pensieve?" he muttered. Kara nodded slightly and Nabokov quickly left the room.

She wasn't entirely sure why she was so upset, although the circumstances certainly warranted it. Nabokov had just shown her a boy with her talent, and more importantly, Severus's. It took every bit of training she had to calm herself and focus on what the Pensieve might reveal.

Nabokov returned moments later and pulled a tiny bowl from a pocket. After performing an Engorging charm on it, he set it on the floor between them and motioned for Kara to join him on the cold, hard, stone floor. The silvery contents of the bowl began to stir and rise up out of the bowl.

There, the two grown wizards watched as a younger Albus Dumbledore, Vladimir Nabokov and Sydney, the Oracle stood floating in midair. Their presence illuminated the dank room with an eerie gray light.

"As for your next journey together," Sydney began. "You will find two who are compatible and you will join them. Theirs will not be an easy path. It will be riddled with betrayal, deceit and hatred. You must bring them through it unharmed."

"But how will we know them?" The younger Nabokov asked.

"She will be an Oracle, and he, her Prelate. That is all I will tell you for now. Call upon me when you have found them." Sydney then turned and her form faded, leaving the two men looking puzzled.

There was silence in the room for several minutes. Nabokov was studying her face intently.

"Are you going to tell me what this is all about?" He said finally.

"What if he dies?" Kara asked. Nabokov gave her a puzzled look.

"You've just shown me someone with Severus's gift; a boy who you found. What if Severus and I aren't who she was referring to?"

"Impossible. Albus is dead so who would the Oracle be? Not you and not Harry. So unless Albus has found another..." His voice dropped off at the look on Kara's face.

"She is in first year. An orphan, with my family name," Kara replied solemnly.

Nabokov then stood up with the lumbering slowness of an old man, told Kara to rise and took her face between his hands. She felt the tears invading again.

"I know what I did for you and Severus, and I know what Sydney has said. I'm not going to train this boy, Kara. He has refused me. Therefore I know it is you and I know it is Severus."

"She said nothing of whether or not he needs training. He could still be the one," Kara rationalized.

"I didn't realize the legacy was so important to you," Nabokov said, turning the conversation around slightly.

"It isn't. It's just that I know what we're doing here could destroy him. The prediction is all I have to tell me that what I'm doing is right." Nabokov took a deep breath in response.

"Do you remember what I told you the first day we began in here? Never cry in this room?"

Kara nodded.

"That directive still stands," he said harshly as he dropped his hands. "Go. Finish what you need to finish. Remember that that young girls life is in your hands while she is here. If you can't focus on Severus, focus on that."

He made a swift exit out of the room, slamming the door with practiced fanfare.

- - -

He was right, and she knew it. Why pursue this at all if she didn't believe from her Potions training whether or not it would work. The legacy and prediction all meant nothing. Stealing herself against the doubt, Kara made her way back to the laboratory for a much-needed rest.

Kara pushed the door to the laboratory open and out of the corner of her eye she saw a figure flinch. Draco Malfoy stood there, wand in hand and pointed towards the far corner of the room. There, huddled on the floor sat Hermione Granger in tears. She looked tortured and was visibly suffering, but no noise was coming from her.

Draco let his wand hand drop to his side after Kara closed the door. His face lit up and he began panting heavily as if he had just ran a mile. Kara looked down on the lab table near where Draco was standing and saw that Hermione's wand was laying there. It was clear what had happened. For several moments everyone just stared at one another in silence, unsure of what to do next. Kara, for one, was unclear how Draco had gotten here or what his intentions were. Had he suspected that a Hogwarts teacher had come with Hermione and was waiting here for them?

Draco broke the tension by running a hand through his hair. He then turned to rach for a quill and spare parchment from Polishnikov's desk. After scribbling something quickly, he walked towards Kara. She reached for the parchment it and read:

Have you come for me?

The look on Draco's face was a mixture of confusion, fear and hope. Kara's heart fell as she realized how afraid he was; apparently the Dark Mark didn't impede that feeling. She reached for the quill he was still holding, walked to the desk, dipped it in the ink well and wrote:

Soon

Draco looked back into her eyes and she was afraid he might break down and shout out. In his mind Kara could see and hear tidbits of torture that he had witnessed, the daily struggle he went through not to reveal his feelings to classmates, and visions of his own death at the hands of his Master. Draco's mouth dropped open and he looked at Hermione, who was still crumpled on the floor. He turned back to the parchment, took the quill from Kara and scribbled:

It's just a silencing spell. She attacked me and when I blocked it the spell rebounded. I had to...

Kara put a hand on the boy's shoulder to stop him writing. She nodded her head in comprehension. It was clear he didn't intend to harm any of them.

"Soon," she mouthed silently to him as she raised a hand underneath his chin lovingly. "I promise." Draco stared back at her intently and nodded slightly. He looked once at Hermione and then turned to go.

When he had gone, Kara heard Hermione attempt to get up. Finite Incantatum, Kara said in her mind. She heard the moans coming from the girl immediately.

"What happened?" Kara asked.

"Stay away from me," Hermione said quickly as she tried to rise. Kara stopped and stared at the battered child. Of course, it wouldn't be clear to her what just happened. From Hermione's perspective this probably looked as though Kara had joined Malfoy's side; Voldemort's side.

"Let me look at your injuries."

"I'm fine. Stay away from me. I want out of here," she muttered all at once through tears.

"You aren't going anywhere, Miss Granger. If you walk out of that door someone will recognize you. You'd never make it out alive."

"Odd that I managed to make it in alive, then isn't it?" Hermione was now leaning against the wall and rubbing her stomach. Apparently her spell had rebounded there.

"I know this must look strange, but you must believe me when I say that it's not as it seems."

"You mean you didn't just show you're openly friendly with a known Death Eater?" Hermione was being a bit cheeky and more so than she would have been allowed at Hogwarts, but Kara was willing to forgive her the trespass considering the situation. But what surprised Kara the most was that the girl knew Draco was a Death Eater. She herself had learned only a short time ago.

"A Death Eater who just lost both his parents, Ms. Granger. Two parents, in fact, that are the sole reason he is a Death Eater. What do you suppose you would want were you in that situation?"

"I would never be in Malfoy's situation," Hermione responded hotly. Kara sighed.

"Ask yourself why he silenced you."

"To prevent me from screaming."

"Yes," Kara said heavily. "And no. Now let me look at you."

"You have no idea, do you - how he has treated me? You'll be next Mudbloods! He's nothing but spoiled little tyrant who wants nothing more than to see me dead or suffering at the hands of You-Know-Who." Hermione began shouting.

"Ms. Granger, you must understand that I have the luxury of knowing things you do not - about Malfoy, and about a lot of other things. You must trust me. We do not have time to sit about and argue over this issue."

"Why do you trust him?"

"I'm afraid I cannot tell you that. It is between Mr. Malfoy and myself. Now come here and let me look at you."

Hermione did so, reluctantly, and after drinking a Pepperup potion, she settled behind the cauldron to allow Kara to take her allotted eight hours of sleep. Before settling into bed, Kara took the privacy of the antechamber to her advantage. She sat down at a tiny writing desk and scribbled a note to her uncle.

Uncle Jean,

I should have been more forthcoming with my previous inquiries, but now I am in a position where I can no longer be vague. There is a young girl here at Hogwarts that bears our family name. Unless this is a surname given to her by Muggles, she must be a relation of some type. She goes by Sarah Pritchard, and I have come to believe that she is indeed a member of our family. Any news you could find of her would be most appreciated.

With love,
Kara