Chapter 19: Silence
“Portus.”
Silversong knew that she shouldn’t have been making a portkey- let alone at a whisper in her bedroom in the dead of night. There were a few different laws in play- for example, the Restriction on Underage Wizardry… or the fact that it was an unauthorized portkey.
“Portus.”
Make that two unauthorized portkeys. Fortunately, since she was at the mansion, the Ministry would never realize she had done anything- and they never could tell when a portkey was created. She only had to keep them from realizing she had them, and they would never know.
She then scanned across her desk. It was littered with muggle maps, a couple wizarding maps, several pages of notes, three separate checklists (the first had been an experiment to see whether Twilight’s organizational method actually was more effective or not), a lamp, and her two portkeys.
Which were, of course, golden galleons.
She lifted the third checklist. “Okay. Portkeys, check. Maps, check. Muggle maps, check. Wand, check. Wearing everything but the robe…” She looked down at her clothes; she was wearing the polo shirt and skirt that had come with her favorite set of robes and, according to Hermione’s letter, she ‘passed’ as a muggle with it, so long as she left out the robe and didn’t add her Hogwarts hat. She returned to the checklist. “Check. Warmth spell…” She flicked her wand, checking on the spell she’d cast on herself earlier; it was going to be a chilly night, and she didn’t want to bother either Hermione or Hailey about how to get a cloak to pass as muggle clothing… or what muggles used to stay warm.
“Check. Watch…” She lifted one of the maps to check the time underneath it. “Check. Purse…” She lifted a muggle purse from next to her desk, and slung it across her body. She’d gotten it during a secret excursion into London the night before. “Check. IDs…” She flipped open the purse, and pulled a piece of enchanted plastic from the purse. “Check.” It had come from a wizarding joke shop, a ‘psychic card’- and while it was next to useless in the wizarding world, it would assume the appearance of any ID card she might need in the muggle world. Plenty of wizarding nobles carried them whenever they went into the muggle world.
She continued down her checklist. “Portkeys in the purse.” She moved the two golden galleons into her purse. The Malfoy Manor was warded against portkey penetration, so she was going to take the floo to the Leaky Cauldron and find some secluded corner there- or in Diagon Alley- to key out from. The return portkey would put her in a warded alleyway next to the Leaky Cauldron in Muggle London- the one that wizards (especially foreigners) used all the time when portkeying or apparating in and out. “Check. Maps in the purse…”
It took her almost ten full minutes to finish off that checklist, before she rose from her desk and stepped up to the door, taking a deep breath. She pressed her ear against the door, and closed her eyes, listening.
For some reason, she had noticed that ever since she had been transformed into a girl, her senses had been unusually acute. She could hear people talking from much further away, she could see much sharper- even her sense of smell was much stronger than it used to be.
As such, she listened carefully for the sounds of her parents.
Finally, she heard them.
Lucius was snoring. Narcissa was yawning, then it sounded like she was climbing into bed.
Dobby, meanwhile, was scrubbing dishes in the kitchen. She could hear him humming softly as he worked.
She gave a nod, slipped out of her bedroom, and moved slowly, carefully, downstairs. Her skirt moved a lot more without her robe to control it. It wasn’t enough to really make her worry, but it was enough to make her uncomfortable- just as uncomfortable, as a matter of fact, as she was when she’d worn a skirt for the first time.
She made it almost all the way downstairs before Dobby’s humming stopped. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Dobby hurried out the kitchen door to meet her; as usual, he didn’t apparate during the night unless absolutely necessary. Dobby came running towards her- and when he opened his mouth to speak, her finger flashed silently to her lips.
He stopped, closed his mouth, and tilted his head.
“I’m going to check out the estate I inherited from Gringotts,” she informed Dobby, in a whisper. “I want to do it alone.”
Dobby blinked at her, then opened his mouth again- and whispered as well. “The Young Mistress will be safe, yes?”
She smiled, and nodded. “I’m invulnerable, remember?” She let out a small sigh. “Just to be safe, though, come get me if I’m not back by… oh, morning, I guess?”
He bowed his head. “Will the Young Mistress be needing anything, then?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m pretty sure I’ve already got everything I’m going to need.”
He bowed, and withdrew back to the kitchen.
She followed him in, and plucked a pinch of Floo Powder from the mantlepiece. “I’ll be back,” she muttered softly, took a deep breath, and threw it in.
The fire roared instantly green and tall enough for her, despite having been mere embers a moment before.
She stepped in, and spoke softly, but clearly. “Diagon Alley.”
Her journey through the Leaky Cauldron was fast. The fireplace was near the exit to London- and at that late hour, there was nobody in the pub to see her. She heard Tom bustling about in the kitchen, and approaching- but she made it out the door before he got there. She swept around the corner of the building, into the warded alleyway, checked both ways, and stuck one hand into her purse, laying fingers on both of her portkeys.
“Out.”
The first of the two activated on command, and she was gone.
Silver was very hungry- almost hungry enough to return early- by the time she jogged up to the massive gate to the… manor that used to be Rowena Ravenclaw’s.
If she was honest, it looked a bit more like a castle. The wall had turrets in it, there was a portcullis behind the gate and a drawbridge in front of it, and the building itself was enormous, with several towers of its own.
As she approached, the portcullis slid upwards and the gates swung open, all as silent as a ghost, almost as soon as she felt the wards recognize her.
She walked slowly forwards, eyes peeled for any plants that might want to do her in, or the like- but she didn’t see any. The gate, portcullis, and even drawbridge all closed behind her- but she knew they would open again the moment she wanted them to.
Nothing jumped at her. The well-kept lawn stayed smooth and silent, the gardens waved lazily in the gentle breeze.
The next thing to jump out at her about the place was that it looked like it was being cared for by a house-elf. Self-maintenance spells weren’t capable of this level of detail, and no wizard would ever have it looking so pristine, clean, and beautiful.
She walked slowly up the wide, sweeping walk, plenty wide enough for a couple of muggle ‘cars’ to roll up it side-by-side. It even looked like it was made for something similar; as it approached the building, the path split in two, and swept around in a massive circle.
She stopped when she reached the steps, and looked down at the paving stones again. Yes, that would be it- it was for horse-drawn carriages.
This place was old.
She looked up at the building, and walked slowly up to the door.
Just like the gates had, it silently and gently opened itself for her as she reached it. She felt the cutouts in the wards making it possible- making it respond to her will. They only existed for those two spots, though; all the other doors, she would have to open manually.
Inside, it was spotless. Massive, sweeping staircases… and even in the entry foyer, every inside wall surface seemed to be constructed of bookcases. They all had wood-framed glass doors on them, revealing the thousands- tens of thousands, or even more- of pristine, ancient books stored within. The space was lit by a chandelier that, rather than holding candles, instead held a ring of light. Despite the chilly night, it was comfortably warm inside.
Then, she heard the clink of china. She looked; there was a door hanging slightly open. She tiptoed towards it, listening, thinking. The sound of running water- someone was filling a glass.
Then she reached the door and, gently, pulled it open, to look inside.
There was a house-elf, wearing a nightgown, drinking deeply from a clear glass of water in the kitchen.
She stood, watching.
The house-elf finished its drink, placed the glass on the counter for later, then turned around… and turned to the side again, to look at Silver. “Mmm?” she muttered, then blinked, once, twice. Finally, she gasped, suddenly wide awake. “Oh! Eleonore is sorry, she did not know you were coming, Mistress!”
“Oh, no problem,” she answered. “So… do I take it you’re my new house-elf, or…?”
She nodded. “Eleonore is the head elf here, Mistress.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Head elf? So there’s more?” She’d only heard of the families with estates so ostentatious they required multiple house-elves to care for them.
She nodded again. “Twenty-seven more. But Eleonore gets bored if they is here, so they is helping at Hogwarts. Does the Mistress want Eleonore to call them?”
She shook her head. “No, that’s fine. So… do I take it that giving a house-elf clothes doesn’t immediately free them, or…?”
Eleonore tilted her head confusedly, then blinked. “Oh, that. The gift of clothing frees a house-elf to break their bonds, but does not force them to.” She tapped her nightgown with one finger. “I chose to stay.” Then she looked up at Silver again. “Does the Mistress be wanting a snack?”
Her stomach chose that moment to growl, loudly.
“Uh,” Silver began. Dobby would probably have something waiting for her when she got back, but she also didn’t want to mess up her first impression by refusing the offer.
Eleonore smiled softly, and rephrased her question. “What does the Mistress be wanting to eat?”
She rubbed the side of her head. “Well, um… Dobby will probably have something waiting when I return, so…” She shrugged.
“Dobby?” Eleonore asked curiously, tilting her head. Then she blinked, and nodded. “Ahh. Dobby has not prepared anything yet, but can if the Mis- if Mistress Silversong would like.”
Silver blinked. “You’re talking to him?”
Eleonore nodded. “All elves under the same master can communicate freely with one another,” she informed Silver.
She nodded slowly. “... And even though Dobby is technically under my father, he’s still bound to my orders as well, meaning…”
She nodded. “Yes Mistress.”
“Okay then. Um…” She looked around the kitchen; there wasn’t a dining table in sight. “I don’t know. Something, I guess. Nothing too extravagant, though- it is in the middle of the night.”
Eleonore tilted her head. “It is almost six,” she answered. “Dobby was going to check on the Young Mistress in about five minutes.” She seemed amused when she used Dobby’s title for her.
“Oh Celestia,” Silver muttered. “It’s later than I thought. Um…” She rubbed her chin. Usually, her father took care of requesting specific meals. “I… I guess I’ll have breakfast then, but…” She shrugged.
Eleonore smiled. “Eleonore can take care of that. How quickly does Mistress Song want it ready?”
She blinked. “Mistress Song… Huh. I like it.” She smiled at Eleonore. “I’ll take it whenever it’s ready,” she informed her. “No need to rush.”
Her smile grew distinctly wider. “Very well.” She bowed her head. Then she indicated a door. “The dining room is through there, if Mistress Song wants to wait there.” She gestured back at the door Silver was still standing in. “Or the big door from the entrance hall.”
Silver smiled, and bowed herself. “Thank you,” she greeted. “And I think I will, thank you.”
When she left the kitchen, Eleonore was very happy, looking around the kitchen- and then, she disappeared with the crack of disapparition.
Silver smiled to herself as she headed for the dining room. Eleonore probably just didn’t want to cook in her nightgown.
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Ooh, interesting. Can't wait to see how this goes.
Verry interresting. Why do I get the feeling that Elenore is up to nothing good?
10660878
This is a very good question... because that wasn’t the intent.
I wonder why Silversong felt the need to sneak off like this? I think part of what they are all looking for will be found soon.
10660964
i would think the answer is pretty simply Silver's father is a kad and would try to clam it all for his self.
amazing chapter.
i understand not doing much updating , get all of the sleep you can.
on a truck you say? you gonna get your starter pokemon once you arrive?
10660964
wonder how ravenclaw herself will react if ever she finds out. and how fitting is it, that twilight euates to ravenclaws heir?
10661036
Yes, a truck.
... I don’t play Pokémon.
10660964
10661029
Yeah, she knows her father would end up railroading her a bit, and she’d be obliged to do whatever... so she chose to go without his influence, explore for herself.
10661064
overused trope in pokemon early games. starts with you in a truck, moving to the beginning town. then you get your starter. xD
10661089
Ahh. I wonder if that “truck” is a box truck, or the full on 80,000lb tractor-trailer setup I’m running?
10661097
you win this one. just a box moving truck.
Seems like a lot would be covered even before the trio arrive at Hogwarts. I kinda hope Discord could get in touch to them before then.
...or maybe at the Hogwarts would be better? That would give Dumbledore a nervous breakdown that someone could penetrate the school's ward like nothing. Maybe he intentionally let slip that those three are Princesses would cause ruckus at school for sure.
10662013
He almost 110 years old at this time. He was born in August 1881, and Harry's first year of school in canon began in September 1991.
10663442
Good to know, I’ll have to correct that sometime... Or of course, pass it off as a part of the AU, since that’d make him 140 in 2021, where this story starts (for the express reason that it means I don’t have to worry about what technologies did or didn’t exist before I was born). Though if I’m sliding everything else forwards thirty years, Dumbles’ bday out to come with it...
10663460
That still leaves Dumbledore as old enough to have defeated Grindelwald in 1945 (even if it isn't relevant in your story), so that works.
Just shift every date related to every living character (except Flamel if you don't care to) by 30 years.
10663460
Huh, the disparity in technology between cannon add this fic makes a lot more sense. Cellphones were bricks and GPSes weren't even portable, let alone having any mapping functionality.