The Locket

Lips cracked, dry
Tongue blue burst
Say angel come
Say lick my thirst

-P.J. Harvey-

Chapter 10

The stench hit Felicity like a wall of bricks, and her mind reeled for a moment as her senses learned to tolerate it. The smell reminded her of the hovel she had been kept in before being bought by the Nott Estate. A mixture of shit and rotting food, she thought. Which means that there's something alive in here.

She felt along the floor and her fingers illuminated a jagged rock. Snatching it up, she wielded it like a weapon as she looked around the room. The blue light from her fingers was starting to fade ever so slowly and her courage with it. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, she thought.

There was a shuffle from the corner of the room, and before she could react, a cloaked figure lunged at her. Felicity shrieked and dropped her rock as she toppled backwards. There was a rattle of chains and two flailing arms stopped just short of her face as she fell. The faint light from her fingers outlined the gauntness of her assailant's face as he recoiled from the unaccustomed brightness.

As her terror subsided, Felicity was able to restrain her urge to run from the room. The cloaked creature had retreated back to its corner and hunched over there. Though she could not see them, she was aware of his eyes on her, waiting for her next move. The strange thing was, she could sense no evil intent. He's probably a prisoner, she thought. I must have scared him.

She got to her feet and brushed the dirt from the back of her tunic. "Hello?" she said tentatively. "I'm sorry I scared you." The man did not shift from his corner, but there was a slight movement as he cocked his head. "My name is Felicity," she said softly, edging closer. "I am a servant, not a wizard." She took a few more tentative steps forward. "You scared me too."

The man was issuing a soft crooning noise and rocking back and forth every so slowly.

He probably doesn't speak English, idiot, Felicity thought. We're not at Nott Manor anymore.

"Me Felicity," she said. She jabbed a finger at her face. "Fe-li-ci-teee."

He was so quick she was still pointing at her face when he was upon her. His cold fingers were like a vise, and his smell made her gag. The man spun her around and pinned her against the wall in his corner. Memories of MacNair came unbidden to her mind and she struggled, the growing tide of panic quenching out rational thought.. "Oh God, please no," she wailed. "Please not again, I can't take it, I swear." Her fear was manifested in the warm trickle that crept slowly down her leg and in the black spots that danced ominously before her eyes.

But after holding her, he made no move to hurt her. One strong hand moved her glowing fingers to her face, and in the soft blue light each could truly study the other.

His eyes were black, and bottomless. She could see her tear-stained face clearly in his pupils, the trail of snot running down her nose. Not my most attractive look, she shocked herself by thinking. She was surprised to see a glimmer of comprehension in those eyes, as though a spark was suddenly lit at the depths of those endless pits.

His nose was large and beaky, his lips thin and pressed together. She saw that his hunched form was not by his own volition. He's a hunchback, she realized. A cripple. Though he did have a measure of wiry strength, his body was bent and broken. He opened his mouth to speak, and she winced at the rotting mouthful of teeth inside. His breath on her face was almost too much to bear, and she half-closed her eyes.

"Da urk og arts. Da oow ooo." Globs of drool ran down his chin as he spoke, his face twisted in concentration at the effort. In the silence that followed, she realized that he seemed to be waiting for her to respond.

"I'm sorry," she said, making sure to speak slowly. "I don't follow. I don't think you speak English. Ennngllliiishhhh." She wriggled in his grasp. "And you're hurting me."

He seemed to understand, because he opened his hands and she dropped to the floor. I didn't realize he was holding me up. A bent hand reached out to her, and when she took it, she was surprised at the gentleness with which she was lifted.

She made to brush herself off, but was aware of a warm mass sticking to her legs and did not want to touch it. Instead, she pointed at herself. "Felicity," she said. "Felicity."

"Ef-ceee," he said, flecking her face with spittle. "Ef-cee."

"Fuh-lisss-it-tee," she repeated, drawing out the syllables.

"Uf-liss-eee." She was rewarded with another face-ful of saliva. The smell had stopped bothering her once she understood that his intent was not to harm her.

I'm going to hate myself, she thought with a sigh. "Flick," she said, pointing to herself. "Flick."

"Ick," he said, but realized that he had fallen short. He screwed up his face and tried again. "Fick." Her reaction must have pleased him, because he gripped her arms and shook her, a rotten-toothy grin on his poor face.

"Yes, very good," she said, her teeth chattering from the shaking. "And yet again, I will never escape that fucking name."

"Fick," he chanted. "Fickfickfickfickfick."

She ignored him and walked about the room. There was a door in one end, opposite to the entrance she had come from. "Where am I," she asked aloud. "And more importantly, how do I get back?"

He made to follow her but his chains stopped him from doing so. The hiss of pain as the manacles bit into his flesh did not escape her notice. She went back and took one of his wrists. The flesh below was raw and red, and she knew that the filth was not helping matters. "What did you do, my friend?" she wondered aloud.

"End," he said, using his free arm to point to himself. "End."

"End, eh?" she chuckled. "Is that your name, then?" She tore the cleanest bits of her tunic into strips. "Here," she said, trying them underneath the manacles and around his wrists. "That should help a bit."

He regarded his wrists with delight, especially once he realized that the pain was somewhat alleviated. The look of gratitude he gave her was so pathetic it brought an involuntary prickle to her eyes. "I need help," she said after wiping her eyes and smearing more filth across her forehead.

His homely face crinkled in thought, lank salt and pepper hair falling into his face. "Da," he said, pointing at the door. "Da."

"Yes, I see a door, but where does it go?"

He grabbed her then, much gentler then before, but perhaps it only seemed that way since she wasn't afraid of him anymore. He pushed her gently to the place from where she had appeared. "Oook," he slurred, hiding his face under his cloak. "Oook."

"Hide? There?" She scratched her head. "You want me to hide? I have to leave, I have to get back!" When he didn't reply, she shrugged and sighed. "Hide it is."

And dragging her feet back to the slightly intended wall, she crouched and waited.

~~~

He was fast asleep and Surya did not feel like waking him just yet. She tapped her wand gently against the side of his head, and whispered a spell to preserve his deep slumber for just a while longer.

I see you've already been a victim of His hospitality, she thought, tracing a light finger down the bruising on his cheek. He had been a handsome boy, and she could see that in adulthood the promise of his youth had been fully kept. She removed a small knife from her robes and cut a small piece of his hair.

The second man she had brought lay in the corner of the room. Silenced and immobilized, he could only stare helplessly, eyes wide with terror. He was heaver than she had expected, and for that she was grateful to have her magic to aid her. Surya sighed and squatted down beside him. "I'm sorry, I truly am," she said as she cut a small lock of his hair. "I don't like to do this to people unless absolutely necessary." She reached into her robes and pulled out a small flask. "But I needed someone, and you were in the wrong place that the wrong time."

Inside the flask was a dehydrated form of the Polyjuice Potion, one of the clever contributions Nott had made to his Lord's arsenal. It was whispered that Nott learned such techniques among his rumored experience at a muggle university, but the Dark Lord silenced them quickly enough. Surya added some water to the flask and shook it vigorously before adding the sleeping man's hair. The mixture bubbled and turned a soft, shimmering blue. His essence, she thought, with a backward glance.

Tilting the flask, she trickled it carefully down her captive's throat. The transformation was a marvel to watch. Her choice of a slave was perfect since there was no real need to swap their clothes, as slave and muggle were similarly attired. With an almighty grunt, she hefted the man over her shoulder, and deposited him on the bed beside the sleeping man. She tilted another potion into his mouth, and this one rendered him unconscious. And that's done, she thought. Now for the hard part.

She returned to the sleeping man and reversed her sleeping charms. Pulling on her hood, she used her free hand to shake him gently. He bolted awake and took in his visitor with wide eyes. "Who are you," he whispered after a few moments. His voice was incredibly calm.

"You are in a great deal of danger," Surya replied softly. She prepared another flask of potion using her captive's hair. "Drink this."

"You're a wizard...witch," he hissed, swatting her hand away. "Why the hell would I trust you?"

She smiled at his anger. "You know they want information from you," she said. "You know you'll die, probably quite slowly." She waved the potion under his nose. "How could this alternative be any worse?"

He couldn't see properly in the darkness but she could feel his eyes upon her as though he could. "I know who you are," he said finally.

Her heart twisted painfully in her chest for a moment. No, he cannot know, she reassured herself. "By all means," she replied coolly. "Do enlighten me."

"I know I have a benefactor," he said. "Who else would pay for my schooling? I had no money after my mother died and my father left me."

Both my fault, she remembered. But you were better off without them.

"Private schools, college in Britain and the United States. Always, everything was paid for. I learned not to question." He sighed. "After the war, I was always shuttled away from the danger, away from the fighting. I knew I was too young to actually fight, but boys younger than me found a way to be useful. I realized that whoever was funding me was trying to keep me safe. I never expected that person to be a wizard though. And so," he concluded. "You work for him." He darted forward then, grabbing her arm in a surprisingly tight grip and reaching for her hood.

But he was still too slow for her. She leaped and turned, bending his arm at a painful angle, causing him hiss in pain as he released her. "That was foolish," she said. "What would you have done? You cannot see well in the dark."

"Who is your master?" he spat. "Or at least tell me who you are? Please, I must know."

"Drink the potion and I will tell you."

He buried his face in his hands. "I can't take this anymore," he said softly. "Shunted from place to place, always safe and yet never so. There's no point in protecting me, tell your master that. What is there worth living for? Nothing is right anymore, this world has lost its color since your kind took over." He looked up at her and for a moment she swore he could see her eyes. "What will I do? Teach? Help people? Or shall I be a labor camp doctor and watch people die of...of diarrhea? Watch them shit themselves to death in black and white?" He let out a frantic giggle at his last statement, though she knew it did not come from a place of humor.

She wanted to say something profound or encouraging, but couldn't find the proper words.

He barked an angry laugh ay her speechlessness and grabbed the potion from her. He drank it quickly and threw the emptied flask back at her. She had forgotten to warn him of the transformation, and he gasped in sudden discomfort and doubled over. When she tried to steady him he swatted her away. "What have you done to me?" he breathed when he had collected himself. He felt the planes of his face, which had shifted considerably.

"It's a means of disguise," she said. "I don't think you're quite up to the task of escaping without one."

"You know nothing about me," he snarled.

I know plenty, she thought. I know that you were left-handed, but were taught to use your right. I know that you were terrified of lightning and thunder. I know about the scar on you back from falling off the coconut tree. But she said none of that. "I know enough, Raj."

His entire body seized for a moment and then relaxed. "I haven't heard my real name in a long time. I've forgotten how accustomed I grew to Arjun." He peered at her. "But you would know, wouldn't you?"

More than you could imagine. "I have been kept up to speed on your name change, yes. It was for your safety."

He didn't reply, as he had just realized he was not alone on the bed. "Who is that?" he hissed. In the darkness he had not been able to make out the identity of the man, nor notice that the man looked like him.

"Never mind that." I'm wasting time now.

"No." He grabbed her arm. "You made me a promise. Who are you?"

"I...I am in charge of your welfare," she replied, her even tone belying a mind in uproar. "If the shunting around has bothered you, I am sorry, but believe me it was necessary. As was your name change."

"I don't see why my identity is so important. I'm from a village. My parents were truly my parents. And believe me, I am no wizard."

"That is true enough." She sighed. "Look, we must leave. But I will tell you this. The name change was needed. You were born after a Red Cross station...after they came to your village. There are records of your birth. Most were destroyed, but we cannot afford to take chances."

"Chances of what?"

She shook her head. "That's not important. We need to leave. Now."

"What about him?" The captive lay on one side of the bed, oblivious to the proceedings around him.

"He's very nicely agreed to fill your position until you get away. In case someone returns."

"They will interrogate him instead of me." He crossed his arms. "I'm not leaving." And then a thought struck him. "Have you done this to others?" His voice was horrified. "This isn't the first time a decoy has been used, is it?"

Now is not the time for arguing. I shouldn't have allowed him to wake. "I'm sorry," she said. Before he could even react, her hands flew out, expert fingers hitting the necessary pressure points. Dr. Arjun Kamath - Raj - slumped over without uttering a sound.

She knew she could not compromise her speed, so she used her wand to levitate him instead of carrying him herself. And without a backward glance at her hapless decoy, she crept quietly from the room.

~~~

The locket felt heavy around his neck, and he wished Ginny was around to remove it for him. Probably a busy day at the shop, he thought. He found himself wondering at the power of subconscious thought when the object of his thoughts came tumbling through the door.

"I'm so sorry," she breathed, hurling her bag and soaking umbrella on the floor. "It's been an interesting day."

"With Neville or the shop?" he asked, half-teasing.

Both, her answering blush replied, but she merely shook her head with a small smile. "At the shop, mostly." She came over and sank onto the cushions beside him. "Alterations galore for the Black Manor."

"Black? As in...Bellatrix?"

"She's the only one left." She knew Ron was aware of that as it had been he who had killed Rodolphus Black. "I had to bring some of the robes home with me."

"Is she even aware of who you are?"

Ginny shook her head. "As in related to you? I don't think she cares anymore. It's been over two decades, Ron." She poked him on the nose. "And I deal with her people, not the woman herself. Thank Merlin," she added.

Why wouldn't she just buy new ones? Ron thought, and then wondered why he even cared.

"She's getting them made bigger," Ginny said. "Looks like the bitch is getting a little plump," she concluded with a giggle.

"As fascinating as I find her weight, I'm more concerned with dinner. As in, what are we having?"

"You pig," she teased. "And leftovers."

"The orange goop or the green liquid?"

"You mean the stew or the pea soup?" She brushed his hair from his forehead. "You pick, I don't care."

~~~

As Vincent turned the corner, he was aware of a foul odor coming from around the corner. When he saw her walk around it, he almost fell over.

"Flick?"

Her eyes went as wide as saucers. "Vince?" She must have remembered how she looked, as a deep blush suffused the bits of her face not covered in grime. "Oh God."

He looked her up and down. She was covered in filth, from the smell of it both excrement and dirt. Her face was bloated with tears and snot and her curls had frizzed around her face like a tumbleweed come to rest. The bottom of her tunic lay in strips, and her knees and shins were covered in something Vincent didn't even want to identify. She almost didn't look human. "Should I even ask the obvious?"

"Shut up," she snapped. "It's been a long day." She looked at him with a half-smile. "So are you going to help me?"

"I'm still deciding if I'm standing too close, never mind anything else."

"Oh hush. I can run faster than you, so don't even think it."

He laughed, not at her comment but more at her spirit, which seemed to have returned miraculously to the way he remembered it. "I get half your rations in the morning, and you have a deal."

She wrinkled her nose. "That crap? You have a deal." She held out a hand, and Vincent was startled to see her fingers emitting a faint blue glow.

"Magic?" he breathed.

Her face flickered with longing, but she shook her head. "I wish, but no. I'll explain later, and believe me, it's one hell of a story. Can you get me to a bucket and a washcloth? I'll have to borrow a tunic."

"And if I say I can get you to a tub full of hot water?"

She looked startled. "Without getting caught?"

Vincent rolled his eyes. "Well no, we'd be caught, tortured and killed, but I thought you'd want it anyway. At least you'd die clean." He moved to smack the corner of her head but thought better of it. "Did you get shit between your ears, then?" he teased. "So what do you say?"

The relative whiteness of her smile stood in stark contrast to the filth covering her. "If you get me a tub," she said, "I say you're welcome to all my rations tomorrow morning."

"And one hell of a story?"
She laughed. "And that too."