Chapter 38

At a secret location, Anne took the potion that Orlens handed her and downed it in one gulp.

Then another bottle.

And another.

By the time she finished, she had swallowed six vials of differently colored potions.

Grimacing, Anne passed the last empty vial back to Orlens.

“That’s the face you’re making already? You’ll need to keep drinking them for another five days,” Orlens said, standing by her bedside as he tidied up and checked the readings on a magical instrument.

Anne pouted. “I don’t mind taking potions, but they taste awful! And there’s not even any candy afterward—”

Orlens snorted. “No candy. Dried fruit?”

“Thank you, Grandpa Orlens! I knew you were the best.” Anne beamed sweetly, immediately taking advantage of his soft spot for her.

“You little rascal—” Orlens chuckled and tapped her lightly on the head.

Bzzz,

The Order of the Phoenix seal on the bedside table suddenly began to vibrate, glowing faintly red.

Anne’s expression changed in an instant.
Red light meant only one thing: an SOS distress signal.

She snatched up the seal, and when she saw the sender and the contents, she bolted upright, so suddenly that pain shot through her half-healed wounds.

“Ah—” she hissed, cold sweat breaking out across her forehead.

“Careful, Anne!” Orlens stopped what he was doing immediately.

But Anne barely paused before trying to throw off the blanket.

Orlens reached out to stop her, his voice sharp. “Anne, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Something’s happened, something big!” Anne looked up at him, her eyes steady and fierce

“Grandpa Orlens, I have to go.”

“You’re the Head of the Order, Anne. You don’t need to handle everything yourself. And more importantly, have you forgotten the state you’re in? If you go now, you’ll only make things worse.”

“I can take tea to stabilize my condition temporarily. I remember taking a vial from the Roland family’s vault and storing it here.” Anne pressed a hand against her ribs as she spoke quickly.

Orlens’s face hardened. “Anne! Calm yourself. That tea gives you at most eight hours of stability, and the side effect is two full days of coma afterward. It’s for emergencies only. Have you even considered the consequences? You might solve one problem now, but you’ll be unconscious for three days given your condition. What then, if this really is something major?”

“I—” Anne frowned deeply. The scar on the left side of her face had faded to a red line, but it made her look sharper, fiercer.

She took a long, steadying breath.

Anne forced herself to think rationally. She knew Orlens was right, she couldn’t act rashly just because Hermione was in danger. She had to stay calm. Three days of unconsciousness could change everything.

Calm down. Calm down.

Think fast. Malfoy Manor. She needed to send help.
But wizarding estates were always layered with protective enchantments, an outside assault wouldn’t work. And dungeons were always warded against Apparition.

What to do?

Anne clenched a handful of her own hair in frustration.

Malfoy…

Malfoy…

Malfoy!

A spark of inspiration flashed through her mind.

Anne grabbed the small box on the bedside table, taking out her earpiece and ring, and slid on her glasses.

“Dobby!” she called sharply, her voice now that of Skool.

With a sharp pop, the house-elf appeared in the infirmary.

He bowed cheerfully. “Chief! Another mission? Dobby will complete it perfectly, sir!”

“Dobby!” Skool said quickly. “Can you Apparate into Malfoy Manor?”

“Master, ugh! I mean, Malfoy Manor?” Dobby’s ears flapped nervously. “Of course, Dobby can!”

“Good.” Skool’s tone turned cold and clear. “New mission. You’re to take Kreacher and go straight to the dungeon of Malfoy Manor. Rescue Harry, Ron, and Hermione.”

“Harry Potter! Oh!” Dobby gasped, eyes wide with alarm. “Of course! Right away!”

“Wait!” Skool pressed a hand against her ribs, coughing hard. Then she straightened and raised her wand. With a flick, several small boxes from the sitting room came flying into the infirmary.

“Take these with you, they’re explosives. Give them to the others. And—” she handed over her wand, “they’ll need this more than I do in that dungeon.”

Orlens’s eyes widened in disbelief. Even Dobby froze, clutching the boxes but not daring to take the wand.

Skool quickly scribbled an address on a blank piece of parchment with her wand.
“Once you find them, Apparate everyone to the location on this paper immediately, Code Name: Site Zero. I’ll be there soon after.”

She shoved the wand into Dobby’s trembling hands. “Do you understand, Dobby?”

Dobby stared down at the wand, speechless.

“Dobby?” Skool barked, her voice strained with pain.

The elf nodded hard. “Kreacher, Malfoy Manor, rescue, address,” he repeated.

“Yes! Go, now!”

“Dobby… Dobby can hold Mr. Skool’s wand?” His voice quivered, tears pooling in his enormous eyes.

“Of course you can. Execute the mission, Dobby, now!”

Dobby nodded firmly. “Dobby will complete the mission!”

With a loud crack, he Disapparated.

“Cough, cough—”

Anne doubled over, the combination of shouting, emotion, and magical backlash from the ring and earpiece sending waves of pain through her. She quickly removed them, still coughing violently.

Orlens regained his composure, mixed a potion, and handed it to her. She drank it in one swallow, and the pain and coughing began to ease.

“Anne,” he said, his voice tight, “do you have any idea what you just did?”

“A little,” Anne replied, sitting up slowly. “But now that you’ve asked, I think I do. House-elves have never had the right to wield a wand, have they? That’s a privilege reserved for wizards.”

Orlens nodded gravely. “If word of this spreads, it’ll send shockwaves through the wizarding world.” After a moment, though, he sighed. “Still… at least you did it under Skool’s name.”

Anne closed her eyes for a moment, taking a few steady breaths. When she opened them again, she looked calmer, though pale.

“Grandpa Orlens,” she said, pressing a hand to her abdomen, “after this war… the world may not be the same anymore.” Her voice softened, but her gaze was unwavering.

“Will you come with me? And please, contact Uncle Aaron. This is serious, this isn’t me being reckless.”