A great night of torment had followed the day of Dobby's birthday celebration, for there was no hiding the house-elf's new garb.
Red as it was, it had stuck out like a bloody vein in Lucius and Narcissa's eyes.
A thunderous beating welcomed Dobby, and he and Darcie both had seen it coming hours before.
Even after Darcie's calm explanation that Dobby was forced to wear the cover, and not given, it had done little to abate her father's temper. The only thing they had managed to do was to keep Daphne's name out of it.
Lucius had then punished Darcie by confining her up in the Cut-Velvet chamber on the 1st floor.
This chamber adjoined the Dining room and was built especially for guests for them to retire after having a sumptuous dinner with the family.
Marked by an exquisite four-poster bed, charming forget-me-not-colored walls, velvet and silk hangings, and a hearth, its windows gazed north at Malfoys' lands and the two distant sister lakes.
Any other person would have loved to spend their nights in this chamber. Not Darcie.
She hated it, for books were forbidden to enter this chamber.
Darcie and trouble, these words were scarcely uttered together in the Malfoy Manor. One could count such times on the fingers of a single hand, but when it had happened, this was her punishment.
Three entire days without books, newspaper, and a stroll out in the meadows and stumpries. The most horrific times of Darcie's little life.
But this punishment had been nothing compared to the flogging Dobby had received.
Nevertheless, both Darcie and Dobby had endured their punishments, for the bond that had formed between the mistress and her servant that day was not something pain and loneliness could hope to sway.
Yet Darcie's adventure of that day had followed her to her night.
It was that night, the night Darcie had spent in that room as a punishment, that the whispers had come; along with the rustling dreams.
Whispers… like hisses.
For days to come, Darcie had found herself waking up with disembodied whispers echoing in her mind like a nightmare. It was as if there was someone; something talking, whispering, and hissing in her ears after going to sleep every day.
Darcie had confided her perplexing situation to Daphne, and both girls had agreed that hearing such incomprehensible murmurs wasn't exactly a good sign even in the magical world.
Somehow, her lessons on potions, practicing spells in her mother's presence using her wand, and devouring books after books had let her focus her mind off those whispers.
Her daily routine of catching the golden snitch in the morning with her brother, and then the broom's maintenance, had also added a disciplined task to her schedule.
Yet, the hissing blathers had continued, becoming intense and piercing every night until one particular August night, she dreamed.
Darcie had never dwelt much in her dreams, but this one was different, even she could tell.
She had dreamed of a long and lean white serpent with one black eye and one yellow. She had seen one vertical slit in the middle of the serpent's head between its two eyes, and even in her dream, she had shuddered, fearing the parting of that slit.
In that dream, that marvelous serpent, whose beauty she had admired for days to come by drawing it secretively, had coiled itself around her, resting on her shoulders, and kissing her chin.
When Darcie woke up the next morning, she had found her chin moist, her body warm, longing for a smooth, scaly embrace.
From that day onwards, Darcie had stopped resisting the intake of whispers, trying to sense some meaning within them. When Daphne learned of her dream, and Darcie's subsequent acceptance of whispers, she had almost let her tongue loose to Darcie's parents.
This is dangerous! Daphne had said, looking concerned. Maybe it's related to your head injury. We should get the help of Mr. Jaxson Warris, the Head of the Mind Healers from St. Mungo's Hospital.
No, Darcie had replied. After my encounter with uncontrolled magic, I would know if it were to pervade me. It's not that.
One thing that both had agreed upon was to look up the white serpent based on Darcie's drawings. Yet, book after book had been read, searched and discarded, but the girls couldn't find it.
At last, Darcie had even taken Dobby's help by sending him to the Diagon Alley and finding anything on the white serpent.
They had only gotten a concrete result at September's end.
There was no magical creature matching the appearance of the white snake in the entire world based on Darcie's drawing.
To Darcie, it had come as a shock, for it only meant that her dream had nothing more to it and it was just that; a dream.
Meanwhile, the whispers, hissing, and murmurings had continued, reaching a peak in October.
…
October had arrived wearing a cape of red and gold to Malfoy Manor, turning the vast green fields around the mansion golden-brown.
The first half of October had been as warm as September, but by the end, it became wet and windy.
The afternoon of 30th October found Darcie and her father in her suitcase's potion room.
The entire potion room had undergone the most drastic changes in the last few months. It was big enough for two large shelves that contained bottled ingredients.
In the middle, there was a small table with all brewing accessories placed neatly over it.
There was a standard-sized cauldron, a stirring rod, neatly placed ingredients, mortar and pestle, scales for measurement, and goggles and gloves.
"Your mother told me you have been keeping a regular correspondence with the Minister of Magic." Lucius' voice reached her ears from behind.
Darcie put on her gloves and goggles, buttoned her coat, and turned around to face her father. Unlike her, he was wearing plain clothes, his wand out of the cane.
She nodded. "We are friends," she told him.
The corners of Lucius' mouth arched up. "Do you know why only today I am letting you brew a potion entirely by yourself?" he asked.
Darcie looked thoughtful. "Because I have memorized all the books in the library," she said calmly.
Lucius' chest swelled. "That's right," he told her. "From now on, you must focus on mastering the things you have learned. Further studies will come later. Start whenever you are ready. Anything below perfect, and I will be extremely disappointed."
Anything below perfect, and I will be disappointed more than you, father, Darcie told herself.
She took out her mother's wand, swished it chanting the incantation, and then pointed it at the cauldron.
The cauldron lifted and came to rest mid-air. With another spell, a red-orange-blue fireball burst out of her wand, acting as a heating source.
After adjusting the flame, Darcie added two scoops of dried nettles to the mortar and three 3-years-old preserved puffer-fish eyes.
She crushed them into a medium-fine powder, the sound of the pestle grinding against the mortar echoing against the dark walls.
Darcie then added two measures of crushed powder to the cauldron and followed it with two tablespoons of water.
For the next half an hour, Darcie kept adding a little amount of water, stirring the mixture over temperature continuously.
Then, she picked up the wand, pointed it at the mixture, and chanted, "Engorgio!"
The mixture within the copper cauldron swelled, becoming murky brown and frothy.
Lucius approached Darcie, leaned over to look at the contents, and nodded to himself. "How long will you leave it to brew, Darcie?" he asked, his cold, gray eyes narrowing at her.
"110 minutes, father," she told him, taking out a paper to show her calculations. "I have made minute changes to temperature, powder measurement, and the stirring based on our last experiments with this potion."
Lucius took the paper, went over them once, and smiled. "We'll see, then."
The pair of daughter and father returned after 100 minutes, but this time, Narcissa and Draco were with them as well.
Darcie put on her goggles and gloves again, looked at the potion's consistency, and noted the observation in her notebook. As the 110th minute approached, she pointed her wand toward her right, and a glass jar came floating toward her. This was the key ingredient of this potion, and yet, Darcie handled it as if she had all the time in the world.
"What is it?!" Draco asked, disgusted by the appearance.
"Bat spleens in a solution of formalin," Darcie replied, taking one red spleen out without looking at her brother.
"Forma— what?" Draco was about to ask more but Lucius' glare shut him up.
Darcie added the spleen, and the potion bubbled, becoming milky-white with red spots here and there.
She stirred the potion four times, anti-clockwise, and let it brew for 30 seconds.
At last, she pointed her wand at the potion one more time, and said, "Engorgio!"
The potion swelled again.
Darcie killed the fire with a wave of her hand, but let the cauldron float mid-air and stepped aside.
Lucius stepped forward, took out a dropper, and used it to suck in a few drops of the potion.
He then put a golf ball on the table, and under the observing eyes of Darcie, her mother, and Draco, dropped one drop onto it.
In the next moment, the little ball shook, and in a controlled manner, swelled to the size of a football.
Draco's eyes widened.
But Lucius said nothing. Not yet. He again took out the paper which Darcie had handed over to him and referred to the calculations on it.
Only then did he smile.
"It's not perfect," he muttered, his lips arching up as if sneering at unseen figures. "It's the most brilliant Swelling Potion I've ever seen in my life. A decrement of 10 minutes is quite substantial, Darcie. Yes. Now you can send a copy of the modified recipe to Severus, but stick to the recipe from now on. It was rather easy potion, anyway."
Darcie knew her potion had turned out right. But her father's praise meant more than reaching calculated results.
And now, an even bigger thing awaited her.
The Halloween feast — another night of endless requests and pointless gestures.
***************
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