章節 13: A Cup of Tea Is Not Always the Best Medicine
Hope sat in one of the chairs across from Albus' desk in his office, staring at a spot on the wall as her brain combed over what she'd just been told in the library.
She might have been a witch but from a different line of magic, one that their kind has deemed long dead, but clearly, if it were true and she was one, they couldn't be extinct. Hope was alive; someone must have passed it on to her.
Newt sat in the chair in the corner, also pondering, while Albus poured out tea in tiny cups for them. He set it on a little table in the center as he leaned against his desk. Hope could feel his eyes on her, but she wasn't quite ready to meet his penetrating gaze.
"So," Newt finally broke the silence, "Could this be why they erased your memory? Perhaps it was something to do with your knowledge of the subject and…"
"Or they were doing the world a favor," Hope said.
Newt's voice came in a confused jolt. "A favor?"
"What was I doing in the forest with a Grimoire of ancient dark magic?" she asked, looking over at him, her features harsh. "Whoever did this to me apparently had a good reason. Maybe they were trying to stop something evil."
"You're not evil-" Newt started to argue, though his voice waved slightly.
"How do you know?" She retorted. "I don't know who I am or what I could have done before that night. What if I…"
"Enough." Albus' voice silenced her. She could feel him moving closer, kneeling down to where she sat.
Still, she wouldn't look at him.
"Hope." He murmured gently, waiting until she finally met his eyes. Her jaw clenched, fighting the numbness spreading its way up her throat. "The choices we make are what distinguish the human beings we are. Mistakes happen; I've made them too, and expect to make them in the future. But you cannot hold onto something you don't know belongs to you."
Hope's voice shook as she fought the tears that threatened to spill. "And if it does?" she asked. "If I've done something terrible?"
"Then we'll work together to help you," he offered a soft smile, "Everyone deserves a chance to be redeemed."
Newt chimed, "And that's not to say you've ever done anything. It could have been the wrong place and time. The book…" he shrugged. "There are many reasons you could have been carrying it."
She was not convinced, but at least their words helped to soothe some of her rising fear.
"Here," Albus handed her a saucer with a little blue teacup, "Have some tea." He smiled softly.
Nodding, she took a slow breath, trying to calm herself down. She knew they were right and that there was very little to be done now, given her lack of full memory. Hope was jumping to assumptions based on a few clues, not the whole scene. She lifted the cup to her lips and took a small swallow.
The sensation of burning acid slid down her throat, causing her to lurch forward in a coughing fit. Hope gasped in a horrible-sounding breath, raw and ragged, before coughing more. Splattering the saucer with tiny droplets of blood.
"Hope!" Newt scrambled to her with wide eyes just as Albus looked inside her cup, searching for something she'd accidentally swallowed.
The adrenaline of the sudden pain clouded her hearing, and she looked at the teacup again. She was on her feet at lightning speed and took the cup from Albus' hand, brows knitted into confused anger. Dipping her finger into the liquid, she winced and shook her finger out. Holding it up, her skin bubbled like she had dunked it in a chemical mixture.
Hope looked at them both. "It burns." She said in a fried voice as if she had a terrible sore throat from an illness.
Moving closer, Albus took her hand in his and examined the burn. They watched as it slowly began to heal, but not as quickly as her wound from Wingedback had.
With a shake of his head, he turned to the silver tray. He carefully lifted the lid, and inside floated tiny purple petals.
"Wolfsbane…" Newt whispered softly.
They looked at Albus questioningly, whose stare was fixed on the kettle. A strange expression contorted his features. For the first time since Hope had met him, he looked…angry. He tapped his wand to the kettle and, in a strained yet somehow still calm voice, said, "Revelio."
Nothing happened. No hidden messages, nothing.
He turned his blue eyes on them. "Excuse me. I'll return shortly." He strode out without another word.
Hope returned to a sitting position, her eyes still on the kettle. She'd never had anything quite like that, she didn't think. Wolfsbane is a deterrent to werewolves. A weakness. A painful weakness that Hope hated with a passion now.
She looked over at Newt, jaw tight.
"Hope, before you begin to think that…" he shook his head. "Albus would never."
"I want to believe that," she said in a hushed whisper, "But how did it get in there? It's his kettle. Was this another test or something? What, I've proven I'm a vampire. Now he needs proof I'm a Werewolf? I guess we have the proof now, don't we?" Her voice grew in irritation.
Newt ran his hands through his hair and sighed, shaking his head. "I know the way it looks, but he would never do something like that. You must trust me with that."
"Oh, must I?" she asked, shaking her head as she stood. "My trust is starting to run thin. First, he kept information from me, and now I drink his tea, which is laced with wolfsbane. What am I supposed to think, Newt?"
Hope was met with silence.
Taking a deep breath, she ran her fingers through her hair. "Look, I'll see you later. I just need to be alone for a little bit." She was too shaken to say much more as she squeezed his hand softly and left the office.
Albus had looked incredibly angry, but couldn't that be an act? Gain her confidence to ease her into a vulnerable state of trust before ending her. Her connection to the Grimoire must have solidified his decision. Hope might not know much about her past or anything else, but she knew one thing. She had to trust her instincts. And her instincts told her…
Don't trust Albus.
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