Dirty Mouth, Dirty Blood [h.g]

twenty five

25

Then

Carina ran through the Malfoy Mansion, her dog Lira hot on her heels. Her nightgown was fluttering every which way, and her hair was wavy from the extended time it had spent in a braid that day.

Her parents were having a party, and the nine-year-old so desperately wanted to crash it. The last time the Malfoys had thrown a party she had been told to stay in her room while the adults talked, but Draco had gone downstairs and was cooed over for ages.

Carina wasn't looking for attention, she was looking for food; the Malfoys were famous for their array of deserts, and she was sure she could get a macaron or two from one of the stands.

Carina peaked her head around the door into the ballroom, but instead of fancily dressed men and women she saw people in all black with masks on that would haunt her dreams in many years to come.

Carina flew back, stumbling over Lira and landing hard on the floor.

Suddenly, all conversation in the room stopped, and the door creaked open.

"Well, well, well," a masked man slurred, "look what we have here. A little girl."

"She's mine," a familiar voice called, and Carina could just make out her father's silver hair coming out from under the mask. It terrified her more than anything else she had ever come across in her short life.

"Don't worry," Lucius Malfoy continued, "I'll make sure she minds her own business next time."

Carina went to bed in pain that night, the imprint of her father's hand still fresh on her cheek.

Now

Carina sat across from Harry, actually enjoying his company for the first time in her life.

It was his birthday, and her present to him was the lack of snarky comments shot his way. He seemed to appreciate the thought, and the pair were getting along fairly well, to Hermione's amusement and Ron's disgust.

Carina was in the middle of a story about Draco and their pet dog from when they were younger when there was a knock at the door.

Carina immediately stood. "If it's someone we don't want here, I promise I will scare them off. You all enjoy the party."

Carina threw open the door with her trademark sneer plastered on her face. "Minister Scrimgeour," Carina drawled blandly, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

The man seemed nervous in Carina's presence, something that made her immensely proud. "Yes, yes," the Minister of Magic stuttered, "I need to talk to you, Hermione, Harry, and Ron. In private please?"

"Must we?" Carina asked. She smiled pleasantly, but her words were laced with malice.

"Yes, I'm afraid it's very important. It's about Dumbledore."

"Come in." Carina finally sighed, giving in to the man's request.

Once the four had been rounded up, Scrimgeour pulled out a slip of paper and began reading from it. "The last will and testimony of Albus Dumbledore. To Mister Ron Weasley, my Deluminator; hopefully it will shed some light onto the situation. To Miss Hermione Granger, the Tales of Beatle the Bard. I do hope you find them entertaining. To Mister Harry Potter, the first Snitch you ever caught with the inscription 'I open at the close.'" The Minister cleared his throat then, looking awkwardly towards Carina, and she raised an eyebrow at him in return.

"And to Miss Carina Malfoy, the sword of Gryffindor. However, this sword was not Dumbledore's to give away, it-"

"So I don't get it?" Carina cut him off coolly, though inside her head was spinning. Why in the world would Dumbledore give her something, and of all things, the sword of Gryffindor? It was a more suitable gift for Harry, he was the one who called it way back in 2nd year.

"No," the Minister answered, "you do not."

Carina nodded thoughtfully, already thinking of ways to steal the sword from the Headmasters office, where she was sure it resided.

"Wait," Hermione piped up, "Dumbledore died a while ago. Did you wait until the last possible moment you could to give us these possessions? And for that matter, why did you deliver them yourself? Why not one of your minions?"

"Yes, I waited the 31 days, but that was just to test for Dark Magic," the Minister began, as Hermione and Carina rolled their eyes together. They both knew the real reason he had waited so long was because he simply didn't like the four of them.

"I came here myself," the Scrimgeour continued, "because I wanted to ask you all a couple of questions about why he would leave you all those things. It seems a bit odd, don't you think?"

"Odd in what way?" Carina asked, on a mission. "I think it's all perfectly sensible. Ron is always forgetting to use the 'Lumos' spell, he's quite careless you see, and the Deluminator would solve all those problems. Hermione grew up without magic, so she never had the chance to read the stories, and I'm sure Dumbledore thought she would enjoy the storied. As for the Snitch, it's sentimental. And it's Harry's birthday, a time for reflection and all that. And the sword was obviously given to me because I am a shining example of a Gryffindor."

Harry stifled a laugh at the last part, and the Minister looked infuriated.

"Now," Carina concluded, "you gave us our things, or in my case simply informed me as to what I was missing, and I answered your question. I really don't think there is any possible reason you could have to still be here. So bye-bye."

Carina turned, dragging the Golden Trio behind her and leaving Scrimgeour fuming outside.

What a fun party that had turned out to be.