After having breakfast, Darcie penned down a letter to Professor Snape, thanking him for saving her life.
Her father had laughed it off, saying Severus wouldn't care about such things. Nonetheless, Darcie had taken extra care to mention her interest in newly encountered Occlumency and Legilimency fields and an attraction to Potioneering as well.
Now Darcie and Daphne were walking onto a grassy lane lined with trees on both sides outside the manor.
In silence, they strolled, side by side, until the manor started to look like a dark, rocky patch behind them.
"I was pushed," Daphne declared. Darcie raised an eyebrow, but by then she already knew what Daphne was trying to ask.
Should they pursue the matter or not?
Now more thoughts sprang up in Darcie's mind that she ought not to have.
Whether to report Pansy to the parents? Whether to shame her? Whether to harm her? Whether to… Whether to… Whether to…
Darcie caught herself, took a deep breath, and said, "We are alive, aren't we?" Her words meant there was no reason to hold on to the matter for now. Those words also meant that they would get the opportunity later, and then, they wouldn't need to be this forgiving.
Daphne smiled.
Darcie spotted a twig lying over the dry, fallen leaves. She picked it up and rolled it in her palm. "Wand," she murmured, as Daphne looked at her oddly. "If only I had it last night… It restricts but also lets one Control."
Darcie held out the twig as if she was holding the wand, and before Daphne could warn her, she let her magic flow through it. The twig exploded, splinters raining outwards with her hand at the center.
"Darcie!" Daphne cried shrilly. "What were you thinking? This is not how a wand works."
"I agree," Darcie said, her tone calm and reserved. "That's why I want to learn more about the wands. I want Control, too, but not at the cost of losing this..."
Darcie outstretched her hands, closed her eyes, and her mind ran, thinking of her surroundings.
Specific. The word exploded in her mind like the previously vanquished twig. The strewn leaves around her lifted and started to revolve around her. Suddenly, under the shocked gaze of Daphne, all the leaves transfigured to become butterflies of many colors in one fluid transition, their wings fluttering all over.
Darcie pointed up, and the butterflies flew towards the sky like a stroke of a brush on a blue-green canvas, before raining down as tiny water drops. Only then did she look at Daphne. "Will you help me with this? Our little secret…"
Daphne's blue, innocent eyes had widened, but she didn't look away.
At last, she nodded, her expression awed and solemn.
*
*
Monday, 9 June 1986
Morning
The Malfoy Manor was quiet at night but quieter in the mornings.
There were only 5 occupants in the house, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, Draco and Darcie, and the house-elf Dobby, who took care of almost everything that was to be taken care of in the manor.
Almost four days had passed since the events of the birthday, the morning visit by the Healer, and Darcie and Daphne's new bond tied by a string of secrecy and mutual trust and respect.
The next few days had seen some subtle changes in Darcie's behavior that had failed to go unnoticed by the eye of her mother.
The young witch's strolls into her father's private library had almost doubled. If previously she had been learning at an outstanding pace, then now she seemed to have a purpose more zealous and targeted than before.
Something about her had made her go even more reserved and solitary, to her mother's chagrin.
Sitting on a chair in the withdrawing chamber on the 2nd floor, Darcie looked thoughtful, her eyes gazing out at the reddening sky through the tall windows.
In her lap, there was a copy of today's Daily Prophet, opened on Page 16.
She looked down and reread the headline — RECALLING THE LONGBOTTOMs TRAGEDY.
Her aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange, was the star of this article, but the Malfoys were mentioned too, though not outright.
"The-boy-who-lived," Darcie murmured, folding the newspaper, pictures moving on its crisp pages as if they had lives of their own.
Harry Potter was a name she had been hearing about since she had started to make sense of her surroundings. She had also noticed how exuberantly her father kept mentioning his name in the wizarding circle whenever there was a social gathering or formal event.
She had seen the accusing gazes full of doubts against her family, and she had also heard the blatant talks of her father being a true Death Eater in the support of the one-who-must-not-be-named.
Darcie had learned to not dwell on these things.
That time had passed, and she had too many things to learn and accomplish.
Great were the wizards who had come and gone, and great would be she when her time would come. She didn't have the luxury to question and seek answers related to anything that had nothing to do with her goals.
And for now, it was only one.
Wands!
She must learn everything about them. But Darcie, in the last few days, had come to learn that it wouldn't be that easy. For her to even start walking on that path, she must have basic knowledge of major Magical fields. There was only one way to do it — read, learn, and practice.
Memorize everything!
Time was running out, she'd thought last night. The longer she delayed taking necessary actions, the more arduous would be the journey later on when she would enter the school.
Darcie took a deep breath and nodded to herself.
"Darcie!" Draco's voice echoed through the Long Gallery. She stood up, placed the newspaper on the table neatly, and turned around. Her brother panted, stopping at the threshold of the chamber. "It's father," he said, beaming. "He's finally letting me ride Nimbus 1500. Are you coming?"
Darcie nodded. "Let me change first," she said.
The front of the manor had many gardens with gravel-lined paths running through them.
The back of the manor, though, expanded into a vast, grassy area with a small pond in the middle. It was a beautiful place for a pleasant stroll, and her mother hosted her tea parties here as well if the weather permitted so.
Today, there were two chairs placed around a white round table.
Her father was standing near the table, admiring a flock of albino peacocks darting far beyond the pond. Her mother was sitting on one chair, drinking her morning tea with freshly baked cookies.
And on one side, holding three brooms over his thin shoulders, was Dobby, Draco kicking him and laughing as the house-elf fumbled to not drop the brooms.
Darcie had changed into loose pants and a coat for the training. She approached her father and stood by his side. "You aren't going to the Ministry today, father?" she asked.
"Never go somewhere where money can reach first," Lucius told her, smiling. "Draco! Bring them here."
Draco snatched the Nimbus 1500 from Dobby, gave him another kick, and ran towards them. The house-elf staggered on his little legs and followed.
"I have charmed the brooms to not go above 40 miles per hour," Lucius said. "Don't go beyond the lawn, OK?"
The children nodded. Darcie stepped away and went towards Dobby. "Let me help," she said, grabbing the two brooms. "Sit down and rest."
"Dobby thanks Ms. Darcie," the house-elf said, his voice squeaking out of his tired lungs.
These brooms were last year's birthday gift from her father. Two Comet 220s, though Darcie had shown little interest in flying. She had spent even less time on the toy broomsticks, and if it wasn't for it to be a necessary skill, she wouldn't have touched Comet ones either.
Now she felt different about them. Seeing her brother with Nimbus and her newly developed magical powers, she felt more confident about the prospect of souring into the sky.
Darcie noticed the words hanging on the tip of her tongue.
Attraction. There was a feeling inside her… she was meant to fly.
***************
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