Chapter Text
Anne,
I know you don’t want to hear from me right now, but I have something important to tell you.
I’m not sure whether you’ve heard, but Lysander was confronted by Victor Rookwood in Hogsmeade and attacked. Don’t worry, he’s just fine, but he told me that Rookwood said something you won’t believe: “children should be seen and not heard.”
Sound familiar? I thought it might. Anyway, even though you may not have seen any wizards the night of the fire, both Lysander and I agree that it’s highly likely that Victor Rookwood was actually the one who cursed you.All this time I was so convinced it had been goblins. Anyway, Victor Rookwood is dead. Lysander killed him.
Well, I am sure you won’t write back, but I thought you deserved to know.
Hope you are doing alright.
I love you.
Sebastian
As soon as she’d received his owl, Anne rushed up the stairs to her letted room in Squib Cottage, her heart racing. Part of her felt queasy as she read and re-read her brother’s letter over and over again. Sebastian hadn’t been wrong – she could not believe what she was reading.
Goblins had cursed her. They had always known that. It had had to be goblins. Hadn’t it?
Feeling as though her world had turned upside down, Anne laid carefully on her side on the small bed, facing the only window in the room. She gazed unseeingly at the overcast sky, her stomach doing flips, for hours. But, for once, Anne didn’t think the sensation was due to her curse.
Hope.
Anne had hope for the first time in what seemed like ages. But did she want hope? Could she embrace it? Anne was not sure. The girl had pretty much accepted her imminent death. Hope, for Anne, was frightening.
After all this time...
What if…
Part of Anne was afraid to think that her curse may be reversible. But if a wizard had done it – could the same wizard undo it? Could he give her more information that would help heal her, at least? Wait, no.. Sebastian had said that Rookwood was dead.
But, Anne wondered, if the wizard who cursed me had died, wouldn’t the curse have been lifted? Everything Anne knew about magic said that it should be.
Anne rolled onto her back, feeling rather impatient. She needed to get more information.
She vaguely recalled Sebastian having mentioned this Victor Rookwood character before in some letter a long time ago, but she couldn’t recall what exactly he had said - just that it had had something to do with Lysander. Unfortunately, Anne had burned most of her correspondence with Sebastian promptly after reading it owing to Solomon’s habit of snooping (and inevitably becoming angry.) She could recall only that Rookwood was a dark wizard and a bad actor but no specifics.
Anne didn’t know where to find Victor Rookwood nor what he looked like, but she knew she had nothing to lose and, potentially, everything to gain, by exploring this avenue of inquiry.
Excitedly, Anne shot up out of bed before doubling over in pain. Although she’d been sick for a long time at that point, she was still not used to being as debilitated as she’d become in recent months. Slowly, slowly, she reminded herself as she got to her feet and sat gingerly at a small writing desk.
For a few moments, Anne stared at the blank parchment in front of her, quill in hand – unsure of how to address her brother’s friend. Anne liked Lysander but, truth be told, she held the young wizard partially to blame for her brother’s actions – everything from getting ahold of the relic in the first place to her uncle’s untimely death. He had been there every step of the way, hadn’t he? He had encouraged Sebastian... or at least done little to stop him.
Taking a deep breath, Anne put quill to paper, having decided that a direct approach was best.
Dear Lysander,
I hope this owl finds you well. I just heard about your encounter with Victor Rookwood.
Sebastian tells me you killed him. What happened?
I would like to know more about the wizard who cursed me. And, of course, I’d love to hear about how things are going at Hogwarts for you as well.
Of course, congratulations on your victory over Ranrok! You are truly a remarkable wizard. You will need to tell me all about that too sometime.
Actually, maybe we could get together for a chat soon? I am staying not far from Hogsmeade. I could meet you at Steepley and Sons.
Please let me know when you are available.
Best wishes,
Anne
Anne sent her letter off with Mrs. Abbott’s owl the next morning, counting down the minutes and even seconds until she imagined the fifth year boy would receive it.
Finally, around lunch time, Anne was overjoyed to see the owl return. Lysander’s response was brief but it was everything she’d hoped for.
Anne,
Of course I will meet you at S&S. How about Saturday afternoon? 1 o’clock?
Unless I hear otherwise from you, I will plan to see you then. My treat.
Regards,
Lysander
It was about ten minutes to one o’clock on Saturday when Anne realized that her rendezvous with Lysander at Steepley and Sons may appear to an outside observer as a date.
She flushed slightly at the idea as she hurried through Hogsmeade towards the quaint tea shop. Her friend was definitely not bad-looking but ever since she’d become ill she had lost interest in boys entirely.
Letting herself into the cozy shop, Anne dared to wonder whether that could change – whether things could be different for her at some point. However, she quickly snapped out of her reverie when she spotted Lysander sitting at a table by the window, a broad smile crossing her gaunt face.
“Lysander!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around the wizard as he stood to greet her. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Anne,” Lysander replied, pulling a chair out for the pale witch. “It’s been far too long. You are looking lovely as always.”
The petite brunette blushed again, casting her eyes away before offering her polite thanks. Lysander then caught the attention of the proprietress of the shop, who approached with a quill and pad of parchment in hand.
“What’ll it be?”
“Tea for two, please,” Lysander offered, looking to Anne for confirmation. “Earl Grey?”
Anne nodded, smiling meekly. “Earl Grey would be wonderful.”
“Pastries?” the matronly woman inquired matter-of-factly. “We have treacle, pasties, croissants…”
Anne looked to her companion. “How about.. a selection? Whatever you think is best.”
“Perfect!” Lysander exclaimed, leaning back in his chair. The proprietress acknowledged their request with a slight inclination of her head. “Coming right up.”
Lysander looked warmly at Anne. “How have you been feeling?”
Anne’s gaze dropped. She hadn’t been well, but didn’t want to give her friend any additional cause for worry. “You know.. The usual,” she said, fidgeting with the embroidery on the tablecloth.
It was obvious to Lysander that Anne was attempting to hide just how poorly she was really doing, but he decided not to press the issue. Before he could think of how to respond, however, they were presented with tea and a fantastic array of pastries and biscuits. Lysander was pleased to see how Anne’s face lit up at the sight as she reached for a chocolate éclair. Having an appetite was always a good thing in the case of Anne Sallow. The girl could not weigh more than 90 pounds soaking wet. She looked even more fragile than when Lysander had last seen her in the Catacombs with Sebastian.
“Anne, I’m… I’m sorry about everything that happened,” the wizard said sincerely, not quite maintaining eye contact. Trying to act natural, he picked up his teacup and took a small sip. Too hot.
Anne smiled at his brief flash of discomfort despite the weighty subject matter and nodded. “I know. No one intended for things to go as far as they did.. But, still. I’m sure I’ll never be able to see my brother the same way again.” Anne started looking a little green around the gills, a good reflection of how she was feeling. “Please.. Can we talk about something else?”
Although Lysander had intended to make the case on Sebastian’s behalf that day, he was easily convinced to drop the subject by Anne’s miserable expression. The girl picked up her own cup, lifting it towards her lips. “Tell me about your adventures… Your fight with Ranrok and… Victor Rookwood,” she said, before taking a sip herself.
Lysander leaned back in his chair. “Well, a lot happened. Probably more than I can remember to tell you. The final battle was pretty intense. It was underneath the school, if you can believe it. Professor Fig was with me and I’m sure you heard all about that. Ranrok became more powerful than ever and turned into a sort of dragon. He was a formidable opponent but I was able to best him in the end. Unfortunately,” Lysander lamented, his eyes dropping from Anne’s and focusing on his own nervously-twisting hands, “at the cost of a great man’s life.”
Anne swallowed thickly, trying to prevent herself from crying. She had never known Professor Fig particularly well, but she was a very sensitive and empathetic soul. “That must have been hard for you, Lysander. I know you were close with him. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
With some trepidation, Anne steered the conversation towards the topic of most interest to her. “My brother mentioned that you fought someone named Victor Rookwood, and that you both thought he may have been the one responsible for my…” Anne lowered her voice as if guarding a secret. “My curse…”
Lysander looked away, hesitant to be the bearer of bad news. “Yes, that seems the most likely scenario. After all, he did tell me that children ‘should be seen and not heard,' just as you remembered from that night in Feldcroft. But, Anne, I didn’t want to get your hopes up. I killed Rookwood… I had to. He was trying to kill me… I was outnumbered, and,” flustered, the boy looked into Anne’s eyes, “it’s not like I haven’t killed before, but knowing that he could have been the key to saving you.. I do wish it could have been avoided.”
Anne offered a small smile that she intended to be reassuring, but Lysander picked up on the sadness behind it. “I understand. I don’t blame you at all. But I am curious. Well, you see.. I am not sure that such a curse should necessarily survive the death of its caster.”
Lysander raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
Anne looked away nervously. “Well, I was just wondering.. Is there any chance..." Anne took a deep breath then blurted out, "How certain are you that this Rookwood fellow is really dead?”
Lysander nearly scoffed in disbelief but restrained himself at the last moment. “Pretty certain, Anne. He exploded into confetti at the end of my wand.”
Anne's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in shock. “Sorry,” Lysander chuckled. “That’s what it looked like…”
“So there was no body?”
Lysander appeared thoughtful for a moment. “No. There was definitely no body.”
Anne’s heart beat a bit faster as she once again considered the possibility that Rookwood may not actually be deceased.
“Well, what else can you tell me about him? Who is he? I know I have heard of him before, I just can’t remember any specifics…”
Lysander took a long sip of his tea. Where to begin? “Victor Rookwood was a dark wizard. He was the leader of the Rookwood Gang. Surely you’ve heard of them? Ashwinders and such…”
Anne nodded slowly, gently urging Lysander to continue. “Well, I'd never actually spoken to Rookwood until that day outside of Ollivander’s.. The day of the battle. But he was definitely working with Ranrok, and his people do some pretty nasty things.. Terrible sort, killing beasts for their parts and that kind of business,” Lysander took another sip of his tea, recalling the various horrors he’d witnessed in and around Poacher camps, and feeling more justified in his actions than ever.
“What did he want at Ollivander’s?”
“He was trying to get me to ally with him against Ranrok.”
“You said ‘no’?” Anne queried, an eyebrow raised.
“Of course. I refused on principle. That’s when he got angry and said ‘children should be seen and not heard.’ And that’s when I realized that he was the one who had cursed you.”
Anne looked confused. “He was talking about you being a child? How old are you, sixteen?”
“Seventeen,” Lysander responded.
“Just seems strange. I don’t see us as children. Do you?”
“No. But I suppose compared to him we are children. The man must be in his forties at least.”
“And.. what does he look like?”
Lysander wondered exactly how to phrase a proper description of Rookwood without giving the wrong impression regarding his own feelings toward the dapper wizard.
“Well, he’s about average height and build, but he wears a very tall top hat – taller than I’ve ever seen. He always wears - er, wore - a long dark purple coat with a lot of buttons and brocade. He was very fancy-looking.”
Anne nods. “I suppose that makes sense for someone in his position.” She took another sip of her tea and a last bite of her éclair before looking at Lysander meaningfully.
“What else can you tell me about him?”
Lysander flushed slightly, not sure how to convey the rest of his thoughts about Victor Rookwood. “Well, he’s… I mean... I can see how some people might find him handsome." Lysander worried his lip, feeling a bit embarrassed, then continued. "He has... or had, rather.. a mustache and a scruffy beard. Blue eyes. Sharp nose. He also had a very distinctive voice – one that I am sure you would recognize…”
Anne almost choked on her éclair as she recalled the eerie voice echoing across Feldcroft that fateful night – “children should be seen and not heard.”
“And you’re sure he’s dead?”
“Well, I was sure… Until you mentioned the curse thing,” Lysander confessed. “But now that I think about it, there was apparently no funeral, there is no memorial, and even his people have not mentioned his death during any of my many encounters with them since. Perhaps he was very unlikable but, perhaps.. Perhaps he somehow survived and is just biding his time.”
“How do I.. How do you think I could find out for certain? Find him…”
Lysander’s eyes went wide. “Anne, don’t. I know you are a powerful witch, but Victor Rookwood is a very dangerous dark wizard. I will do some checking. Please – stay away from the Ashwinders.”
Anne did not respond, just looked out the window, her gaze lacking focus. She knew that Lysander’s request was coming from a place of care and concern, but Anne knew she could not just let this lie. Every day, she felt herself inching closer towards death, and Victor Rookwood was her only hope of salvation - dark wizard or not.
“You’re going after him, aren’t you?”
Anne turned back towards Lysander, a guilty expression etched into her delicate features. “Lysander. I need to do this. Please respect that.”
Lysander took a deep breath. “I can’t stop you. But, please, Anne – please let me know what I can do to help. If there’s anything you need.”
Anne made intense eye contact with the boy across from her, her warm brown eyes boring into his deep blue ones.
“I need to know where I can find the Ashwinders.”