The chains that bind us PV Elaine Pendrast

Elaine was turning a page in her book when a soft knock on the door made her look up. The half-eagle who was resting comfortably on her left shoulder mirrored the motion, lifting its head a few inches to peek over the collar of her dark blue dress.

Most students had left Hogwarts castle for spring break with the train at the end of last week. The castle wasn’t deserted, especially with a Squib-rights terrorist gaining momentum in parts of Great Britain. There were quite a few parents who didn’t trust the government enough to let their children leave the school at the moment – not that Hogwarts could currently be considered a particularly safe environment, but they hadn’t been made aware of that yet. Still, it was noon and whichever students were left in the castle usually had something better to do around this time of the day than to knock on the door of her office to ask for advice or help with their studies.

She shot one last glance at Pushing Boundaries – The Enchantment of Sentient Beings, Its Ancient Roots and Impact on Modern Social Hierarchy before putting a bookmark to the current page and closing the book. The fifteenth-century Russian traditions on how to enchant a wizard’s hand to make them able to summon a blade with concentrated will alone would have to wait for now.

Calling it surprise would have been the wrong word, but Elena grew instantly curious when she opened the wooden door and came face to face with the Hufflepuff Head of House. The last time she had seen him had been at the professor’s ill-fated meeting in the Headmaster’s Office.

“Caradoc Browne,” she greeted him evenly and put her wand away. “Please, do come in.”

The canine shadow of a tattoo hovered over her collarbone, uncertain, assessing the situation – had she always been able to surmise her protectors’ moods that easily? Somehow Elaine had the impression that their presence had become sharper since she had arrived at Hogwarts. If her assumption was right, then it was truly her own unrest that had imprinted itself on them. How curious.

“How can I help you?” she asked after the door had closed behind them, leading the wizard to the place in the far corner of the room where she had been sitting reading her book a minute ago.

If this had been her niece she would have already asked if she’d care for some tea, most likely called a house-elf to fetch them a tray of biscuits before the question even came up. With the Hufflepuff Head of House however, she didn’t get the impression that this was a social call.

For a moment she wondered if he had noticed, that instant reality had slipped through her fingers like water in Lear’s Office, but discarded the thought as quickly as it had come. No, he was a healer, she couldn’t imagine that he had ever pursued the Dark Arts – they tended to mix poorly with any kind of healing magic, if only for the fact that most true Dark charms required an intent to harm that contradicted a healer’s oath to preserve life.

His first and last name were mentioned. An odd greeting for any colleague. "Elaine Pendrast." He replied in kind. The hint of a smirk forming on his lips as he couldn't resist the little quip. He walked in and went where he was pointed to. Looking around the office, he realised he was making quite the tour lately in visiting his colleagues' habitats. Knowing full well what Pendrast's speciality was, he was not left surprised with the things he saw in here.

In fact, it was the reason he came. If anyone could help with the mater he suspected to be, it would be an individual well-versed in spells that would fight the evil magic left in this world. Hags were old beings and their touch was vile to witness. The sleek fingers caressing his face was still a memory he would rather erase for good. He remembered the sickness that grew from within that night. The fear that fell over him under the light of the bright moon. Like they were all watching him.

He did not take a seat, as he wasn't offered. Basic ettiquette keeping him from making himself at home. Straightening his back whilst turning to meet her gaze, he smiled at the other professor. "I apologise for interrupting your own free time, professor. I-..." He tried to find words to describe his self-suspected predicament. He would need to explain it just right to not come across as not a full shilling.

He cleared his throat. "I have... well, I suspect I was given something with a lasting effect." An odd way to describe things. Well done Caradoc Cecil Browne. An eloquent explanation of the matter at hand. "Truth be told I have no clue what it may be." He started pacing about the office. "A disease, a curse, anything more complicated than that. You are of course aware me and professors Price and Zahid were attacked by a hag." He raised his eyebrows in how well he could casually bring up the subject by now. "While Elliot was impaled and Zahid crushed within the earth, the hag managed to grab me." He swallowed a bit as he tried to continue. "I am not at ease since then. I'll admit it to you as I do want this to be over. This... constant in my head. My head seems to be used for battering an iron that just came out of a forge. In the back of my head, I see you all as enemies."

His blue eyes would form ice as he looked at her. The serious tone making the man seem far less enjoyable than most would know him by. He whispered further, eyeing the shade in the corner of the room. "I am given no rest. They are everywhere. But it makes me hollow. I've become afraid of my own shadow."

There was a smirk there when the Hufflepuff Head of House said her name, a glimpse of teeth, a spark of mirth in his blue eyes. It put Elaine at ease, made her shoulders drop slightly and the stern expression on her face grow softer – such a simple gesture, but still it was able to push aside both her own worry and her memory of the man screaming at their colleagues in the broken-down Headmaster's Office.

She was about to offer him a seat, but he forestalled her by turning around and addressing her directly again. There was something helpless about his smile though, about the way he stood in the middle of her Office for a moment, asking for help.

Elena had seen broken men. He wasn’t one of them, but there was a shadow to him when he talked about what had happened to the Hufflepuff Professors in the Forbidden Forest. When he started pacing she let him, watching his figure as the strode through the room, restless, evidently unsettled. She watched the hesitance with which he spoke, the movement of his eyebrows, how his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed.

“In the back of my head, I see you all as enemies.”

Elaine held his gaze for as long as it lasted, her dark eyes unfathomable.

“I've become afraid of my own shadow."

He wasn’t the first to have confessed this, or at least a variant of it, to her. Both were common enough effects of the Dark Arts, though, interestingly, they were sentiments that were shared between those who had been ensnared by Dark magic, who had been pulled in too deep and were struggling to pull themselves out of its grasp. It was a trap she too had fallen victim to, the whispers in her head that had told her to tread carefully, told her to become stronger, that the others feared her power, feared what she could do with it, would fall into her back the moment she turned away from them. “Kill them before they kill you.”

Caradoc Browne didn’t sound like a cursed man, he sounded like a man who had cursed and regretted it. How curious.

“I didn’t know that your situation had been that dire. Cornered by Hags. Professor Price, impaled… Professor al-Benghazi, crushed in the ground… what happened in the forest that day, Mr. Browne? How do you feel about it?” she asked, trying to catch his cool blue eyes as she walked over to the low table that held her tea set. The stasis charm had kept it at the perfect temperature despite her having prepared it over an hour ago. It was Earl Grey, her favorite, steaming hot when she poured first him and then herself a cup.

If a Hag had cursed him – something that was within the realm of possibility, although it took an exceptionally strong magical Being to curse by proximity alone, without incantation or medium – then there had to be something inside of him that was feeding this curse. Fear? Shame? Guilt?

She gestured towards the group of chairs she’d sat at minutes ago. Her book was still lying on the side table.

“Have a seat,” she told the man and pointed to the second chair, placing the cups between them. It wasn’t a question, but there was a gentleness to her voice that was unlike how she usually addressed her fellow professors. She brought her own cup to her lips, sipping the hot beverage carefully, the half-eagle perched on the back of her hand, nosy as was its wont.

"How do I feel?" He blinked sheepishly at the other. Several people had tried to check up on him. Most of them asking if he was okay after any sort of tantrum he threw at them. But he had developed a skill in avoiding answering such questions. Leaving him and his troubles to himself, rather than having others worry about his fussing.

This time however, he had managed to corner himself. There was no choice of denial as he had come here on his own accord that he needed help. The question came rightfully so and still managed to hit him across the face. It clearly left the man starled as he tried to give Pendrast an answer.

"Bad." He said softly. "I feel bloody bad." He shook his head as he looked down to the floor. Resting both hands in his pockets he continued his pace. "I can not describe it. I feel sick. I feel bad." He pointed one hand towards the other professor. "Ever since that hag touched me, it has been this way. Her vile fingers smearing across my face. I felt myself becoming hollow. Disease spreading inside me."

He grew silent as he relived that one night. An unpleasant fascination kept him up at night. He hadn't shaved for weeks now, his hair was left a mess. Having no longer bothered for wearing any suit, he just wore shirts for their ease.

Pendrast would offer him a seat. Far more gentle than he would have expected from her. Not that he thought her crude or anything of the sorts. But there was a certain strictness or severity to her posture when she spoke. Accepting the seat and tea, Doc fumbled a bit with his hands. The nerves hitting him every now and then when he was forced to describe the events that had taken place a handful of months ago. "Thank you."

Elaine studied the Hufflepuff Head of House as he moved around her office, paced and talked and finally settled down in the chair that she had offered him. She wished that she had chocolate at hand, but her last package had fallen victim to a homesick Gryffindor First Year a few days ago and since it was the holidays she hadn’t yet bothered to buy a fresh stack from Hogsmeade.

“You are welcome,” she replied when she was sure that he wouldn’t jump to his feet again in the next second.

The man’s appearance was disheveled upon closer inspection; not downright unkempt, but also not up to par compared to what she had seen of him before. Had he been sleeping? No, or not well in any case, Elaine decided. There were no other obvious health detriments that she could see: his skin color was within the normal range, his pupils behaved normally as well, his breathing was even and his walk didn’t indicate any persistent pain or sudden nausea.

The hag touched him. That fact alone turned her mild curiosity at his presence in her rooms into actual interest. Concern too, maybe, but it was vague enough for now that the witch could put it aside to focus on the case presented to her.

“You speak of disease,” she repeated his words softly, careful not to spook Mr. Browne any further. “This isn’t uncommon when describing the effects of a long-lasting curse. When the hag touched you… do you remember anything else of what happened then? Was there an incantation, any pattern to her movement? Whatever you may remember could be helpful for me to understand what kind of spell it is that is affecting you.”

She still wasn’t entirely convinced that he had indeed been cursed, but the fact that the hag had touched him was something that made a part of Elaine uneasy. Yet, there was the possibility that it was guilt or fear that was slowly eating away at his sanity. The encounter had taken place months ago. For him to carry a curse that long unnoticed would indicate either a strong personality or an exemplary cruel use of Dark magic. She could exclude neither option without further study of Caradoc Browne.

"There was no incantation." He replied whilst scratching the back of his mind. "She revealed her true form to us as she held me in her tightened grip." The horrific sight would be a picture hard to forget for sure. While Caradoc knew of a convention of hags in the ministry that worked for an establishment of rights, this one was certainly not like them. In fact, he might have even called her young had she not looked the older equivalent. However, her attack had been brash. Facing off three adult wizards on your own would either mean you knew their weaknesses or the stakes.

Sipping the tea quietly, Caradoc's blues would meet the dark colored eyes of Elaine. "I'm making quite the fool of myself aren't I?" He smiled again. Kindness came for free. It had been long since he had rested and to be honest, at this point he felt annyone would have been allowed to trick him and put him to rest for even a second. "A silly badger, panicked in the woods. Scared of the figures the branches paint against the moonlight." Like the story of a children's book his daughter would have read before bed time when she was younger.

"Surely you must have an opinion on all of this? The hags, Solomon, that sneaky git named Plott." Doc scowled at the mention of that last name. "If I ever see him near one of my students again I will earn my ticket to Azkaban." He took another sip as he recalled his birthday party not so long ago.

„No, Mr. Browne.“ Elaine shook her head, tone serious. “I don’t consider you a fool. Traumatized most likely, scared maybe, ashamed of your perceived failure perhaps, but not a fool. A foolish man wouldn’t have survived your encounter with the hag in the Forbidden Forest.”

She considered the Head of Hufflepuff again. With how the spoke of their altercation with the hag Elena couldn’t rule out that he had lapses in his memory. Trauma would have made him likely to forget or suppress certain parts of what had happened – and even if he remembered the interaction as it had taken place, the fact that he hadn’t perceived certain words or gestures as associated with a spell didn’t mean that they hadn’t been. Most wizards had the irritating tendency to discount any magic done without a wand or Latin or Greek-sounding words as nonexistent.

“I can try working some unspecific counter-curses on you.” She took a sip from her tea and made a vague hand gesture that encompassed his whole body with the hand that didn’t have a black shadow attached to it. “Sickness. Fatigue, maybe mental as well as physical. Prolonged, slow effect. Not immediately lethal, which doesn’t mean that it couldn’t be in the future.

“I would assume a low to mid-level curse designed to incapacitate you rather than outright kill you,” she concluded and made eye contact again, trying to ignore her irritation at the fact that the tattoos were now all trying to get a look at the stranger from various parts of her body. Something had stirred up their curiosity. “If I am misjudging badly however, your health might deteriorate fast.”

There was no point in making him even more paranoid by mentioning that if he had been cursed and the curse had been indented to be discovered, a trap, a simple diagnostic spell could be enough to kill him. Thankfully, the chance of that was minuscule considering the complexity of such a curse – that wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment spell.

With a sigh Elaine placed her empty tea cup on the side table and rose from her chair.

Hag magic was not something many witches or wizards had “wasted” their time on. There was only one book on the huge shelf of her office that was related to the topic, and even then it focused on the nature of the innate spell-casting abilities of hags and not on their proficiency with specific kinds of spells. So Elaine skipped that instead and went for the row with tomes on curses. A bastardized variant of the Entrail-Expelling Curse, perhaps?

“Now, don’t be hasty,” she said absentmindedly while her finger wandered over the spines of some old books. “Should there be… a need to remove Headmaster Plott from Hogwarts… I am sure a way can be found that circumvents Azkaban.”

When she had finally found the book she was searching for, Curses to Induct Diseases of the Bowels, she gingerly took it from its place in the shelf and turned around to retake her seat, tome in hand. Elaine didn’t reveal that she had spent considerable time contemplating how to get rid of Plott, should the need for it ever arise. The thought had been with her since the horrid ball in October.

“I-“ When she’d found the page she’d been searching for she looked up from the book, making eye contact with the wizard again. “I have an abundance of opinions, Mr. Browne, but unfortunately no answers. Solomon Lear has most likely gotten into whatever predicament he is in by himself, and if I knew what game Mr. Plott was playing I would sleep easier at night.”

A smile appeared on the man's face when she did not call him a fool. Nice to hear after all. One does not prefer being called out on an idiotic statement. Crossing his legs he placed one finger on his temple as he listened to the professor explain her perspective. She announced the probability of a sudden death or quick deterioration. "So cheerful..." The Head of Hufflepuff quipped back to her with raised eyebrows.

His eyes shot up when the Head Lioness rose up from her seat. Musing to herself mostly as she went over a few titles on her shelves, she proved an interesting character to Browne. Mysterious was one word, ominous another. Her own joke regarding the removal of Plott from their line of sight, made his hairs stand up straight. Anyone on staff could have made that joke, but with this woman, he would have believed it.

He got up on his own feet to stand next to her. She made a point that she'd rather have answers than a little Q&A on opinions. Nodding his head in agreement, the man had little left to argue. The Hufflepuff skimmed over some titles, nothing immediately catching his attention. "I will give you permission to do whatever you deem necessary." He stated shortly.

The man turned heel to face her directly. "This can't go on any further. Besides, the slytherin students were cursed as well. Perhaps events are related. Whatever you can uncover from solving this, might be a next key." He'd offer a narrow smile curling up his lips. His daughter would most certainly not be cursed on these grounds. Not on his watch. "I'm a healer, not a cursebreaker I'm afraid. Given your... shall we say reputation? I figured you'd be my best shot on this. I could have also tried Nora. But honestly, since the attack on the Slytherin common room, she hasn't always been herself. I also believe potions was her thing? Not sure on Curse-breaking. Not that I don't trust her."

He smiled a bit to himself as he pondered what exactly Nora had been up to in her life. He recalled her saying something along Auror work. But abroad? She still was a mystery to him, much like the woman he was standing next to right now, he realised.

She regarded Caradoc Browne curiously when he joked back at her. Truth be told, Elaine didn’t know if she should be affronted or charmed. People, even her colleagues of over ten years at Durmstrang, rarely treated her so… informally. She wasn’t funny, or easy to get along with, or conversational – and her awareness of that meant that she had given up on pretending to be something she could never be.

It didn’t appear that he wanted to endear himself to her on purpose, he was too oblivious in his displays of emotion for that, but still Elaine treated carefully, dark brown eyes following his form when he rose and moved around her Office. The tattoos joined her in that, he half-eagle not relinquishing its position on her left hand, while the wolfman’s snout was still defending the inch of open space on her neck. The other two were hidden beneath her robes, biding their time. All of her shadows were uncharacteristically calm now, as if waiting for something to happen.

“A variant of an Entrail-Shrivelling Curse, maybe…” she mumbled to herself, turning the page to study the specifications of the spell. Only when he addressed her directly did she look at the wizard again.

Permission to do whatever she deemed necessary.

“Is that so?” Elena retorted. There was a grin curling at the edges of her lips, a hint of white teeth showing when her mouth formed what might have been a grin. She had assured the man that he was no fool a few minutes ago, but maybe she had been wrong, maybe he didn’t understand how monumental a mistake it was to tell her those words. No sane wizard should put their life in the hands of a witch who had spent more than three decades studying the Dark Arts that easily.

After one last look at the book she closed it and got up from her seat to put it back in its former place in the shelf, her steps confident, heels clicking on the stone floor. She turned back afterwards, returning the man’s gaze.

“You should not-“ Elaine paused, mulling the words over in her head, a carefully controlled expression on her face. “My expertise is not with people, Mr. Browne. I might be able to help you, and I will check up on those unfortunate Slytherin students, but the Dark Arts are volatile. What I know of how to cure their effects I know from being able to cast them in the first place. Understand that whatever you have heard of me, I am the furthest thing from a Curse Breaker in this castle.”

She stepped past the Head of Hufflepuff, breaking the moment, the set of her shoulders just the slightest bit tense. It wouldn’t do to make him feel threatened by her presence.

“Ms. Jensen. Will recover, I hope. She is… close to her students from what I have seen.” She restrained herself, doing her best to hide the affection for her niece from both her voice and her face. Elaine didn’t know if Mr. Browne was aware of their relation and had no intention of disclosing information that wasn’t hers to share in the first place. “But yes, she has a fondness for potions. That was something she shared with Professor Nagal, our former Potions Professor.”

The attack on the Slytherin Common Room at unsettled them all, even Elaine. There was something not right with Hogwarts castle, and it seemed to only have grown worse the longer the Headmaster had been absent. What if the incident would repeat itself? What if the rot had already reached the core and they simply weren’t aware of it?

Turning around she let her black cherry wand slip from her sleeve, her fingers closing around it in a loose grip.

“Please, if you would,” she offered Mr. Browne with a tilt of her head, her left hand outstretched as an invitation for him to step forward, the slender fingers nearly black with ink.