The Witching Hour (Harry Potter/Twilight Crossover)

Chapter Sixteen:

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:

Draco walked down into the cellar, unsure whether he was pleased that it was this time of the day and he could see Luna again, or horrified, because he had to take in the situation of the young blond girl. The dark times had been taking their toll on the young Malfoy, and he looked permanently tired, with bags under his eyes, and his once immaculate hair verging on shaggy.

Pushing open the cellar door, he ignored the old wandmaker, instead turning his attention to Luna.

Luna smiled serenely up at the boy, her face showing none of the nervous excitement building up inside her. Something was about to happen- something big. For the first time in months, the young girl felt something other then the heaviness of despair, of anger and panic and grief- she felt hope.

She could taste the freedom on her tongue.

'Soon,' she promised herself, 'soon.'

-

-

"Alice?" My voice was weak. "What happened?" I asked, even though I didn't want to hear.

"I don't know," she suddenly wailed. "What is he thinking?!" My shaking limbs barely produced the strength to hold me up, and even then I had to cling to Alice for balance a distracted Alice who wasn't even looking at me as she pulled a small silver phone from her bag. Her fingers dialed the numbers so fast they were a blur. "Rose, I need to talk to Carlisle now." Her voice whipped through the words. "Fine, as soon as he's back. No, I'll be on a plane. Look, have you heard anything from Edward?" Alice paused now; listening with an expression that grew more appalled every second. Her mouth opened into a little 'o' of horror, and the phone shook in her hand.

"Why?" she gasped. "Why would you do that, Rosalie?" Whatever the answer was, it made her jaw tighten in anger. Her eyes flashed and narrowed. "Well, you're wrong on both counts, Rosalie, so that would be a problem, don't you think?" she asked acidly. "Yes, that's right. She's alive—I was wrong, albeit only just... It's a long story... But you're wrong about that part, too, that's why I'm calling... Yes, that's exactly what I saw."

Alice's voice was very hard and her lips were pulled back from her teeth. "It's a bit late for that, Rose. Save your remorse for someone who believes it." Alice snapped the phone shut with a sharp twist of her fingers. Her eyes were tortured as she turned to face me.

"Alice," I tried to explain. "Alice, Carlisle is back, though. He called just before..." She stared at me blankly.

"How long ago?" she asked in a hollow voice.

"Half a minute before you showed up."

"What did he say?" She really focused now, waiting for my answer.

"I didn't talk to him." My eyes flickered to Jacob. Alice turned her penetrating gaze on him. He flinched, one hand on the doorknob, the pleading in my eyes the absolute only thing keeping him in place.

"He asked for Charlie, and I told him Charlie wasn't here," he muttered resentfully.

"Is that everything?" Alice demanded, her voice like ice. The doorknob made a splintering noise.

"Then he hung up on me," Jacob spit back. A tremor rolled down his spine, shaking me with it.

"You told him Charlie was at the funeral," I reminded him.

Alice jerked her head back toward me. "What were his exact words?"

"He said, 'He's not here,' and when Carlisle asked where Charlie was, Jacob said, 'At the funeral.'" Alice moaned and sank to her knees. "Tell me Alice," I ordered. "What the hell's going on?"