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“The Golden Trio?”
Igora stopped and held up her hand just as they approached the oversized fireplace. “Remind me again what floor Eversworn asked about in his initial interview?”
Her partner stared at her in disbelief before finally answering, “The fourteenth.”
“All five of them and the kneazle are on the fourteenth floor right now.”
Hermione glanced at Harry and Ron as they studied the case board. She and Malfoy had little luck confirming or denying that the kneazle was Bertice, although the creature had only positive responses to everything Pansy Parkinson said, which spoke volumes to Hermione. It had to be her goddaughter.
“Granger,” Malfoy said in a low voice. Hermione turned to him. “Do you understand any of what’s happened to us?” It was in that moment Hermione forgot the details of the case. All thoughts of the potential that flashed between Malfoy and Harry disappeared. It was easy to get distracted from the fact that they had been cursed, especially when the others present in the Ancient Room seemed to get the worst of it. The worst of it, she cringed. Maybe she didn’t have a Gorgon-curse, but she still felt the grave despair of someone held hostage to an alien force. Hermione was about to ask if Malfoy had heard from anyone else, but Parkinson leaned in.
“Hermione,” pleading eyes met her own. “What do you make of this?” Parkinson pulled out a folded parchment and handed it to her. Still in a bit of a shock that she’d used her given name, Hermione eventually grabbed it. When she opened it, she gasped, and it drew the attention of Harry and Ron.
Hermione asked if she could read it aloud. Parkinson considered it and then nodded. She read:
To whom it may concern:
We have Bertrice Zivantus and we won’t return her until our demands are met.
10,000 Galleons
The agreed upon amount of inquollis anicorpus folia
Guinevere, the kneazle
Marwan Zivantus’ Timepiece
Hermione’s voice faltered after that. For a brief moment she locked eyes with Malfoy, before clearing her throat and continuing:
The drop off will be on the main field at the Aubigny Sports Centre in Haddington,
1 o’clock in the morning
Do not involve the Ministry
“What—when did you get this?” Hermione asked.
Parkinson frowned. “The owl showed up as soon as I checked into the hotel.”
“If anything,” Ron joined the huddle and sat in one of the armchairs. “This proves that his death and her kidnapping are connected. I’d reckon Marwan had contact with them before…”
Ron’s thoughts filled Hermione’s head with questions. “Does this mean they didn’t kill him?” she asked. “If they wanted all of this from him, what would possess them to exact the massacre in the penthouse?”
“You all can worry and talk yourselves in circles, but I have to get this stuff together and do the drop,” Parkinson stated, the hint of panic in her voice. Malfoy reached across the sofa and placed a hand on hers. The kneazle pushed herself under their fingers.
“Hang on.” Ron shook his head. “What’s inquollis anicorpus folia? Why are they asking for a plant?”
Harry finally found his voice and added, “I’ve never heard that mentioned in Potions or Herbology.”
“Be honest, Potter, were you ever listening in Potions or Herbology?” Hermione shot Malfoy a look of warning and started to ask Parkinson if she knew anything about Marwan’s potential herbological ties. Did he have a greenhouse? Did he own any companies that produced products from plants? With every question, Hermione grew more frustrated because Parkinson simply did not know the man or his dealings well enough.
“There is someone who might be able to help us,” Harry offered. When everyone turned to him he shrugged. “Neville.”
Malfoy groaned.
Hermione had a thought, and suddenly, she felt the curse raging inside her again. “Yes, Harry, you’re right. You, Malfoy, and Parkinson should go to Hogwarts and ask for Neville’s help. Even if he can’t, maybe you can search the Restricted Section for any information on the plant, and perhaps—” Hermione pointed to the kneazle “—historical instances of body swapping?”
“And that leaves you and Weasley doing what exactly?” Malfoy quipped with a raised brow.
“I already have a few leads to chase down thanks to that board of yours,” Ron offered and he and Malfoy stared each other down for an uncomfortable minute. Finally, Ron titled his head and said, “You might have to explain to me what Gertrude Lockhart is doing up there though.”
Malfoy narrowed his eyes, but the hint of a smirk crept over his features. “Well, if you must know.” While he explained that a man in Cardiff had seen Marwan’s participation in a charity event run by Gertrude Lockhart and had begun stalking Marwan, Hermione pulled Harry aside and out into the hallway.
Harry look dazed, as if it took a moment to realize what happened. He stared down the hall toward the lift, a disoriented look on his face. He then flattened a bit of his hair back absentmindedly.
“So, you’re going to trust Malfoy?” Harry said quietly.
Frustration washed over Hermione, but she tried to keep it hidden. How could Harry still be caught up in the idea that Malfoy had a hand in the crimes? Even after he spoke up for Malfoy at his trial, Harry still had his head in the past. “Well,” she tried to find a way to get to Harry, “you have been working with him.”
Harry crossed his arms. “I’ve been trying to find out what he really knows about all of this.”
“And what have you found, Harry?” Hermione pointed to the room. “You’ve seen the board, the ransom note. Seems to me like he’s telling the truth.”
“The truth? You believe that?” Harry took a few steps away from her. She could see the anger taking over. “You believe that Zivantus hired him to investigate his own death?” Hermione ignored the look of complete disbelief on his face. “How?”
She panicked, “Divination, perhaps.”
“You don’t believe in that!”
“But we’ve seen it be real on occasion, haven’t we?” Hermione briefly thought of Sybill Trelawney and her mostly pathetic devotion to the practice of Seeing. Shuddering, Hermione continued, “I’m not saying it isn’t odd, but maybe Zivantus hired Malfoy to solve it. Maybe there’s some sort of contract or Vow involved.”
“An Unbreakable Vow.”
“Maybe. His death and Bertrice’s situation are connected. Maybe he knew it and thought Malfoy would solve his murder and save his daughter.”
“But why hire Malfoy? Why not go to the authorities?”
Hermione shot Harry a pointed look. Her mind screamed He is the authorities! Just trust him! But before she could form an actual reply, the room door swung open.
“And then he claimed that he was Gertrude Lockhart,” Malfoy walked past Hermione and Harry, Ron at his side listening intently. “And that the person running the Remember Me Please Charity Ball was an imposter.”
Parkinson joined them and they all stood in the hallway staring at each other awkwardly. “Right,” Hermione finally said. “You three go speak with Neville. Ron and I will work the other leads.” Her pulse raced with the involuntary thrill at thought of Harry and Malfoy forced to work together with a snappy Parkinson looking on. And then she cringed, her rational side almost disgusted to the point of sickness. She took a breath and composed herself. Hermione glanced at her watch, “Meet back here before eleven tonight.”
“What about the rest of the things on the list?” Parkinson asked. “How are we supposed to get everything they’re asking for? At this point, all we have is the kneazle.” She glanced at the door to the room with a worried expression. “And I don’t want to give her up.”
“Leave the rest to me,” Hermione assured. She watched as the three of them walked to the lift and didn't miss the challenging look Harry sent her before the doors had closed. She didn’t take it to heart and hoped her intuition to send them off together would help the case and not end in disaster. “Okay, Ron,” she turned to her fiance. “You need to follow up on—”
He interrupted her with a kiss. It caught her by surprise, but she welcomed the warmth and familiarity of Ron’s lips, the comfort of something real and solid before her. It steadied her where before she’d been unravelling to the threads of the case and the curse.
