Late evening,
Greengrass Manor
The birthday party was still going on, but the girls had gotten tired of the endless wishes.
Ginny had already come and gone, hopping around the manor along with Astoria.
In the clamor, none noticed a little red-haired girl. Nor did anyone care.
If all the Weasley children had come, then that would have been another matter.
Now Darcie and Daphne had returned to Daphne's bedroom.
Darcie still had an hour before she returned, so they had come here for some privacy.
"I've also been trying various passwords to open the woodcut map," Darcie stated, bringing up the familiar topic of the mysterious object. "I got this idea from that puzzle test which needed such passwords. So, now I have a mind to chant certain words in various languages near it."
What Darcie didn't say was that there was a certain word in her mind — a particular hiss.
The ceaseless hisses had gone down in January, and they remained so for the better part of February, too.
But then they returned in March, with a terrifying intensity.
For long, she had been wondering what her ancestor's Patronus' imprint was trying to tell her.
But only last weekend had those hisses become discernible words in her mind.
"Where is it?" Daphne asked, not being too hopeful about Darcie's relentless tries.
"Dobby."
Crack!
Dobby appeared near Darcie and immediately brought out the palm-sized object covered in a thick layer of black.
These actions and this time had already become a part of the routine of this group of three.
Dobby snapped his fingers, and the object began hovering between the three.
If foreign eyes were to chance upon the sight within this room now, they would have felt that the two girls were attempting some dark ritual, assisted by a loyal house-elf.
"Here we go," Darcie said, nodding at Daphne. "Let's start with Hebrew."
Then Darcie began speaking sporadically, firing word after word in different languages.
Daphne had already cooled down seeing Darcie's absurdness. But Dobby still went slack-jawed every time upon noticing his mistress' prowess.
Alas! Even after 15 minutes of non-stop chanting, no ancient language seemed to work.
"I think it's time to let our parents handle it, Darcie," Daphne suggested. "Last time…"
But her words got cut short by the opening of Darcie's mouth.
A shiver ran down Daphne's and Dobby's spine, their tiny existence sensing a primal fear, like an instinct.
No words came out of Darcie's mouth, but a mere breath. This breath was like the faintest sigh of wind, making one remember a windy and frosty night.
And this breath was also like a hiss; the hiss of a serpent.
-Open!-
*
*
When Darcie opened her eyes, she could see nothing but hazy darkness.
The young Malfoy's mind felt giddy as if someone had woken her up after sleeping only for an hour, and then forced her to run.
An incoherent noise also buzzed in her ears, making her wince unknowingly.
Suddenly, her purse, which was flung around her shoulder, floated up and hit her on her forehead, jolting her awake.
Alarmed, Darcie snapped open her eyes, and what she saw made her gasp.
She had arrived in a stony, circular hall, lit with dim torches, giving it a sinister appearance.
Daphne and Dobby were levitating near her, their eyes still shut, their eyelids flickering with pain.
Between the three, hovering and bobbing up and down, was a square wooden object, with a scroll sigil carved in its middle.
And surrounding them all, buzzing and stinging, was a swarm of sapphire-blue Billywigs.
There were thousands of them, swirling around, their long, thin stingers out.
Billywigs' stings could cause giddiness and make the stung person levitate.
Too many stings, however, could cause the victim to hover uncontrollably for days on end.
Sometimes, the victim would suffer from a severe allergic reaction, and it would ensue permanent floating.
Darcie didn't want it to happen to them.
But what were they doing here?!
And where were they, to begin with?!
Darcie squeezed her eyes, recalling the memory of opening the mysterious object.
The moment she had… hissed, the entire palm-sized object had exploded into a black mist, uncovering a wooden relic of some sort with a sigil of a scroll in its middle.
Before any of the three could have done something or observed anything, they were teleported here against their will.
Yes! Now she remembered.
They had thought that the mysterious object was hiding a map, once.
But, children as they were, Darcie and Daphne had taken Garluk the goblin's words for granted, not questioning if he was right or wrong.
The palm-sized mysterious object had never been hiding a map, it seemed.
It was a Portkey!
But we never touched it, Darcie reasoned. Or was coming in contact with the black mist counted as coming in contact with the Portkey itself?
Buzzz!
More Billywigs buzzed, their outrageous speed making them look like a blue blur against the dim walls.
No. She couldn't let them sting her and her friends anymore.
"Daphne! Dobby!" Darcie screamed, shaking their shoulders. "Wake up!"
Darcie swatted a few Billywigs who were approaching her and grabbed the portkey.
More stings would only make her giddier, not something she could afford here in this foreign and strange place.
Darcie's and Dobby's eyes stirred as Darcie continuously shook them.
Soon they woke up, and Darcie told them her theory.
"Dobby don' like this, miss," the house-elf squeaked, covering his ears where the Billywigs were trying to sting him. "Dobby feels bad."
Daphne was too having a hard time preventing herself from getting stung.
After a few minutes of their constant struggle, the three landed on the ground lined with large stone tiles full of dust.
Darcie looked around, and through the swarm, she could barely make out that they were in ruins, ancient and mysterious.
The very air smelled of rot, earth, time, and darkness.
When Darcie's gaze came around, she found Daphne looking at her with shock and horrifying amazement.
"You…" Daphne drawled, flicking her hands, "… are a Parselmouth!"
Darcie opened her mouth, but then closed it, knowing not what to say.
At last, she said, "I guess I am."
Daphne's blue eyes reflected Darcie's face for long, and then she shook her head, a hint of a smile flashing across her thin lips.
"Where are we?" she asked, helping Dobby. "Did you hear… any voices?"
Darcie frowned. "No," she shook her head. "I didn't."
"I think Dobby's right, Darcie," Daphne told her. "It will be nothing but trouble if our parents find us missing.
"Let's disapparate, and return only when we have figured out this Portkey's origin."
That sounded reasonable to Darcie, her fingers clenching the portkey.
"OK," she nodded. "The Portkey doesn't seem to work anymore, I think. Dobby, I will leave it to you."
The girls held Dobby's tiny fingers, and Dobby, shaking, thought of disapparating.
"Dobby?" Daphne prodded, eying the house-elf's sudden silence. "What are you waiting for? Let's go!"
Darcie, too, looked at Dobby and sensed something amiss. "What is it, Dobby?"
The house-elf looked up at his mistress, fear birthing in his large, tennis ball-like green eyes.
"Dobby can't sense it, miss," he said, his voice trembling. "Dobby can't sense anything."
***************
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