La Vida Loca

Three days after giving Viola the ring, Bert and Dedalera were reciting The Thousand Jaguars when Dedalera sat bolt upright. "There's a stranger in the village!" she announced.

"How do you know?" Bert asked. He was glad to have a rest from endless repetition of syllables that he didn't understand and that his English accent made it difficult for him to pronounce correctly.

"My jaguars tell me," she said. "He's on the road leading into the village."

Bert called out to Viola in English. "Vi! Can you nip down to the village and get some bread? The money's in my rucksack, if you haven't spent it all already."

Viola, who'd been sunbathing at the front of the farmhouse, came back inside and pulled her robes on over her bikini. "What's the hurry?"

"Erm... Early closing," Bert lied, not wanting to tell Viola how he knew her father had arrived. Viola huffed, picked up her rucksack and headed off down the path to the village. "She'll find anything that's interesting, I guarantee it," Bert told Dedalera. "In fact, she'll find anything that's boring, too."

Dedalera began reciting the spell again, but Bert stopped her. "Look, Dedalera, what did you mean when you said your jaguars tell you things? What jaguars?"

Dedalera looked frustrated. She had worked out quite quickly that there was something wrong with Bert because he never used magic. She had never seen an adult who couldn't cast a simple spell before. However, she didn't think he was stupid, although this was making her revise her opinion. "My Thousand Jaguars. The spell is in the blood. I told you that."

"You've cast the spell on yourself?"

"NO! When my ancestor returned from the Americas, he cast the spell. It goes from son to eldest son or, when there is no son, to the eldest daughter. I am the last of my line. I knew my father and brothers were dead when the Jaguars came to me. They help me hide."

"This is the spell that protects the village? It's inside you, not cast on the place?"

"Yes."

"And when you leave the village?"

"It will go with me."

Bert rocked back. No wonder the villagers were desperate for Dedalera to stay. Without her, all Santa Maria de los Milagros' magical defences would be lost. The Thousand Jaguars didn't defend the village; they defended the Cortes family.

"Can more than one person cast the spell? I mean, could someone else in the village cast it?"

"No one else knows the words," Dedalera said simply, "and it is a bad spell. Even with the words, you cannot cast it. My ancestor killed his daughter to cast it. He rubbed her blood into his skin as he said the words. You need the blood that the spell is to go into, it cannot be a stranger."

"You have to kill someone? We can't use this spell," Bert said. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

Dedalera's reply was faint. "Because I knew you would go away and leave me here." She looked ashamed.

Bert was annoyed. He and Viola had been wracking their brains to think of ways to help the little girl, and she'd been manipulating them with a skill that Ethelina would have admired. He'd had no intention of leaving Dedalera in the state he'd found her, but he was very angry with her. "I'd better go and find Viola," he told her. "She needs to know this - no, don't pull that face. We will come back. I promise you, I will make sure that someone takes care of you."

"Viola's in the bar," Dedalera said, "with the stranger."

"Thank you," Bert told her, and stamped off. It was just like Ethelina to get other people involved in her half-baked schemes, with no end in sight. She'd wasted his time, when he could have been at his restaurant, and she'd wasted Viola's time, when she could have been... well, unemployed, but looking for work. Dedalera could've been emotionally harmed by the whole incident. All the way down the hill to the village he kicked at stones and took his anger out on innocent scrubby bushes.

***

Viola had managed to order two glasses of red wine, and was feeling very proud of her Spanish. Admittedly, holding up two fingers and saying, "VINO, POR FAVOR," in a loud, slow voice didn't take a lot of skill, but at least she hadn't spoken English.

The barman rubbed glasses with a clean cloth and wondered if all Englishwomen acted in such a deranged fashion.

Phineas Beanacre smiled across the wooden table at his daughter. "You've settled in well here," he remarked. "A bit of sun has done wonders for you."

Viola grinned. "To be honest, Dad, I haven't got much done. The spell's in Mayan, so Bert's memorising it to teach Ethelina and I'm just dossing around."

"Are you and young Mr Hawley getting on all right?" Phineas' eyes strayed to the ring on her finger. Viola noticed this.

"Oh! Nonono, you misunderstand. That was a gift from the little girl we were staying with. Bert and me, there's no hope. He lives a Muggle life."

Phineas wasn't fooled. Viola had never been good at hiding her affections, and her face shone when she referred to the man. It was similar to, but not the same as, the way she glowed with excitement when she was on the trail of a news story. "Well, in case you need it, your mother and I have enough put away for another wedding. Third time lucky, maybe."

"Don't rub it in, Dad. I feel so bad about the other two. I'm so sorry..."

"They weren't interesting enough for you," he said simply. "Nice men, but dull. You need one who'll keep you thinking, not one who looks good in swimming trunks. I'm getting the impression that this one's a bit sparkier."

"He'd look fab in Speedos too," Viola admitted. "Anyway, I didn't bring you here so we could discuss my failures. There's something funny going on in this village."

Her father groaned. "I hope you didn't drag me all the way out here to be nosy! I've had to leave Ethelina looking after my workshop."

"There's a very sick woman, I think, in a big house in the village. I want you to heal her, if you can. You did bring your medicine chest, didn't you?"

"Yes, but I don't speak Spanish, and I never managed that translation Charm. How are you expecting me to find out what's wrong?"

Bert slammed his way in through the doors of the bar and ordered a large glass of wine. Viola ignored his tetchy expression. "Fate smiles on us! Bert can translate."

Phineas knew Bert, because over the past year the young man had often been to visit his twin at the warehouse. It had made Ethelina rather more mellow; Phineas suspected that when Bert had cut himself off from the wizarding world he'd cut Ethelina off from his calming, cheering influence too. He liked Bert, and wished Bert could find happiness among magical society again. He wouldn't mind if Bert's happiness coincided with his daughter's, either.

As they finished their drinks, Bert told Viola and her father what Dedalera had said about The Thousand Jaguars. Healer Beanacre looked thoughtful. "I've heard of protection spells that are linked to specific places - Hogwarts, for example - that don't seem to have such Dark roots. That said, with most spells like that you need to layer them and work them in over time, whereas this Thousand Jaguars sounds immediate and portable, to a degree."

"Where did Ethelina hear about it?" Bert wondered.

Viola shrugged. "Beats me. Even I haven't heard about it. I vaguely remember that a couple of British wizards died here, but it happened while I was doing a story on dragons, so I was abroad myself. Maybe she heard about it then."

Healer Beanacre shook his head. "A spell like that would interest many people, especially if they didn't know a human death was involved in its casting."

"Eth can't cast it now," Bert said.

Viola grinned wickedly. "Unless you forget to buy her a birthday present again; I can see her pulling your head off for that. Well, let's not worry about a spell no one can cast. Dad's got a woman to heal." With that, she stood and went to pay the barman. The two men raised eyebrows at one another.

"She's not as bossy as your sister," Phineas pointed out. They grinned at each other, and prepared to leave.

Bert and Phineas took it in turns to carry the heavy medicine chest to the beautiful cortijo. Viola cautiously entered the courtyard. "Bert! Dad!" she called. "She's here."

As they approached the pretty witch Bert explained, "My name is Bert, and that's Viola, and this is Healer Beanacre. My friend saw you the other day and was worried about you. Would you like our Healer to talk to you?"

The woman struggled to sit up, and Viola rushed to her aid. "I think I would," she admitted. With Bert's translation, she explained her symptoms to Healer Beanacre, who looked grave.

"Is it bad?" Viola asked.

"It's serious," her father replied. "It's an advanced case of Draining Sickness. She's going to take a good few months to recover."

Bert explained this to the witch, who sighed. "I feared as much. This sickness has been affecting my husband's family for a few years. Slowly we have watched them all die. We are cursed!"

When he heard this, Healer Beanacre pulled a face. "Does she mean a real curse, and is it on top of the sickness, or causing it? This is going to be difficult. It's been years since I've dealt with a curse, but they're not incurable. The trick will be to treat her symptoms now to build up her strength and work on the curse as well."

Bert's explanation was disturbed when an angry, handsome Spanish wizard clattered into the courtyard and started shouting at them. "What are you doing here? What are you doing to my wife?" Bert found himself surprisingly irritated by the admiring look Viola gave the bronzed newcomer.

"I think that's the gardener," Viola said. "He was in the orchard last time I was here."

Bert shook his head. "Healer Beanacre, Viola, meet Don Hernandez."

When he realised what Viola and Bert had brought Healer Beanacre to Spain to do, Don Hernandez calmed down a little. He loved his wife, and after watching his parents and sister succumb to the Draining Sickness, the thought of watching her fade too upset him more than he was prepared to show. "I have a potion room beside the kitchen," he told Bert. "Your Healer is welcome to use it."

Healer Beanacre started by giving Doña Ana an Energy Draught to restore some of her lost vitality. She repaid him by twitching her wand - an elegant one of cherry wood - and casting the translation spell that would enable them all to understand one another.

"Finally!" Viola cheered in delight.

"You're going to regret that," Bert told Doña Ana. "She'll never shut up now." Viola glared at him.

"The English are so bad at languages," Doña Ana smiled.

"We have heard a lot about you," Don Hernandez told Bert and Viola, sitting at the end of the couch his ill wife was lying on. "You have been looking after Dedalera Cortes Garcia."

"That poor little girl!" his wife exclaimed. "She won't let anyone near her, usually."

"She wants to leave the village," Bert explained. "She thinks you won't let her go. She... she thinks the villagers killed her parents when they tried to leave."

Don Hernandez looked gloomy. "Ramon Cortes Somoza was going to leave the village, and we begged him not to go..."

His wife raised one hand. "Listen, all of you. I will tell you a story.

"Once upon a time, there was a small village. It was a magical village, and just learning to welcome newcomers. For many centuries it had been shut off from Muggle people. Slowly magical people came from overseas, some the children of witches and wizards who'd emigrated, some from other countries entirely. The people of the village learned from these newcomers that the non-magical people no longer wanted to harm them. While they still would not let those people enter the village, they would themselves go further into the surrounding area.

"One day some strangers came to the village and tried to persuade the inhabitants that non-magical people are all bad, and that to allow them into the village would result in its destruction. Naturally the people were scared, because they had feared this for centuries, but their own experiences told them that this was not really the case. Besides, they told the strangers, they had a special spell that kept out Muggles.

"The strangers had no more interest in the village or its people, viewing them with contempt for wanting to mix with their fellows. They did, however, have great interest in the spell..." Her voice faded.

"The Thousand Jaguars," Viola said.

Doña Hernandez nodded. "The Thousand Jaguars. To protect his village from those he saw as a greater evil than the Muggles, Señor Cortes Somoza planned to leave, drawing those people away from Santa Maria de los Milagros. The villagers did not understand, and tried to persuade him to stay. However, when they saw his mind was set they let him leave, and as he left, the strangers attacked. They could not attack him directly with magic, so they attacked his sons first, and then his wife. His little girl fled, and as Ramon called his Jaguars to devour them, the wizards killed him in the Muggle way, with a knife. The jaguars then turned on the foreign wizards and tore them apart."

Bert frowned. "So you didn't kill the family? Viola was right."

Don Hernandez nodded. "There is no happy ending to this tale. The child lives alone, uncontrolled and with no one to love or teach her. My family withers and dies. Now you see why we don't welcome strangers here. After centuries of fearing Muggles, the people who harmed us most are the ones who claimed to be like us. We feel we will never be safe."

"Surely someone from the British Ministry of Magic came over," Viola insisted. "They'd expect to find out what had happened if British wizards died."

"We told your Ministry that it was an accident in the hills. Telling people about the Thousand Jaguars only led to death. With those two dead, we decided to keep it secret, and ourselves hidden. No one could imagine casting the spell nowadays. We all know the legend here. Who would kill their own child for a spell?"

"You'd be surprised," Bert said grimly.

"Do you know the names of the British wizards?" Viola asked. She looked at her father and Bert. "Okay, maybe You-Know-Who is back, maybe he isn't. But there are other Dark wizards in Britain who wouldn't think twice about stealing that codex or kidnapping anyone able to translate it. I'd like to know who we're up against. I'd like to know who'd be prepared to kill a whole family."

Don Hernandez stood. "I can show you where they are buried." He led Bert and Dedalera out of the cortijo and up a hill. "We couldn't bury murderers in the churchyard. Gregory Flint, this one's name was. He was the stupid one of the two. The other, Burke, was the leader."

"Flint and Burke." Viola frowned. "It makes sense. My second husband was a Flint. He had the body of Adonis and the brains of a donkey. They're all a bit thick. The Burke, was that Vincent or Chaney?"

"I don't know. He was a middle-aged man... We thought perhaps all British wizards were like him."

"Not all," Viola said, "but there are some bad ones. You can't tell just by looking, either." They stared gloomily at the graves. Viola resolved to do some research when she returned to England. Ethelina had always had some dodgy associates. For example, while Viola was at the warehouse, Cassandra had let slip that Ethelina always did the Hogwarts deliveries to Professor Snape in person. Viola had never liked Snape at school, thinking him creepy, but in her professional life she'd heard bad rumours about him and seen him with worse people. Perhaps Ethelina knew some useful gossip.

Then it occurred to her: maybe Ethelina wanted the codex for someone else. Someone had to have told her of its existence. Could it be one of her less socially acceptable contacts?

Bert took a deep breath. "Don Hernandez, we need to talk to you about Dedalera. There are schools of wizardry here in Spain, and we have an excellent one in Britain, in Scotland..."

Don Hernandez shook his head. "They will return. As they died, the wizards screamed that their friends would come for the codex. We need Dedalera - and given the danger she is in, she probably needs us."

"How about if we arrange alternative protection?" Viola asked. She looked at Bert. "We can get Eth out here for starters; she's great at Defensive charms." And then, thought Viola, I can see if my best friend from school has gone bad.

As Healer Beanacre carried on preliminary treatments on Doña Ana and discussed potion-brewing facilities with her husband, Bert and Viola walked though the orange grove beside the house.

"How much do you know about Eth's personal life?" she began.

Bert was annoyed. "As much as she chooses to tell me - and she probably tells you more."

"Don't get riled. It's just that, well, she doesn't seem to have one."

"Well, don't be nosy. It's none of your business. She doesn't have a personal life. It upsets my mother a lot; she'd like to know Eth had someone to care for her."

"I once knew another girl who didn't seem to have much of a personal life. Well, several, in fact. I think Slytherin girls are hard to love," Viola mused. She poked at an orange. The sight of them growing on trees never ceased to amaze her. It was one thing to know that they grew on trees, but another to actually see it.

"What happened to the other girls you knew?" Bert asked.

"Dead, divorced or in Azkaban," Viola told him. "I managed a couple of divorces, Kelly O'Donnell got put away for fraud in the 1980s - she got caught doctoring genealogical records and Lucius Malfoy used his political clout to get her a long sentence - and Lucy Whitby washed up dead on a bank of the Thames, all laid out in a rowing boat like Elaine in the Arthurian legends. At least Eth managed to avoid all of that. Slytherin wasn't the healthiest house to be in during the last war."

"None of them were," Bert said. "Even a school for Squibs wasn't safe."

Viola patted his arm. "I worry about her, okay? One girl ended up in Azkaban - she did the worst things imaginable - and Eth was always convinced someone could have helped her. Maybe she was right. We all saw the scary signs, and none of us dared to say or do anything. I'm seeing scary signs round Eth now, and I don't want to see her do anything bad."

"You're talking about Bellatrix," Bert replied. "Ethelina's nothing like her."

"You didn't know Bellatrix. Look, you know how determined Ethelina is; you know what she's like. Why does she want this spell?"

"She probably doesn't know the cost of casting it. She'd never cast it."

"And if someone else has asked her to get it for them? Would she pass it on, knowing what it takes to make it work? She's paying me for this trip, you know, and I'm not doing anything useful for the business. She gave you all those reales, and coins from this village are among the rarest around. She wouldn't have them just lying about the place, she had to get them from somewhere. From someone."

"You're supposed to be her friend. Some friend you are, you don't even trust her."

"I doubt she trusts me either," Viola said simply, "but it's not the first time I've worried about her friends. She won't mind me asking. I'll ask her to her face, too."

Bert calmed down a little. He couldn't doubt Viola's sincerity. "No, she won't. She'd rather be asked than speculated about. I think she wants the spell for herself, for her workers, but never at the cost of a life."

Viola nodded, and stroked the bark of one of the fruit trees. How lovely the grove smelled. How good Bert's tan was looking.

"You know, there's something romantic about this place," Bert said. "I think it's the heat and the smell of the..."

Viola took a chance and pounced on him before he could finish his sentence. She'd wanted to snog him for days. The codex could wait.