"Were you expecting any visitors?" Mai asked, glancing sideways at Oleandra as she holstered her wand. "These two don't look like Aurors to me."
Accused of the murder of Albus Dumbledore, Oleandra, Daphne, and Draco had climbed to the very top of the Ministry's list of Undesirables— ranked second, third, and fourth respectively, just beneath Voldemort himself.
"I wasn't expecting anyone," Oleandra shot back, nudging the nearest unconscious Death Eater with her foot. "Least of all you. You wouldn't happen to have brought these lads to my doorstep, would you?"
Mai shook her head, so Oleandra turned her gaze to the pair of masked Death Eaters snoring peacefully on the floor.
Clearly, Voldemort hadn't sent his best and brightest, which could mean one of two things: either these two were just the beginning, or they hadn't expected to find the strongest Witches of their age group behind the door they'd just knocked down.
Oleandra was inclined to believe the latter.
"Are these really the best Voldemort's got? Talk about a bunch of pushovers," Mai snorted derisively. "When Morgan le Fay terrorised the Kingdom of Logres, each of her followers was at least as strong as Professor Flitwick. These two wouldn't even be fit to—"
"Ah!" Oleandra blurted out. "I saw it too— you glimmered, just now, when you said Voldemort."
"You just glimmered again," said Mai grimly.
Oleandra and Mai rushed to the door and peered into the darkness outside. Strangely enough, no additional reinforcements arrived.
"Voldemort," said Mai, enunciating each syllable clearly.
"There it is again," Oleandra remarked. "You cast some kind of spell, or at least, you fulfilled some ritual's requirements."
A ghostly apparition, clad in shimmering light-blue raiment, manifested at Oleandra's side. She mouthed something inaudible, her sorrowful expression tugging at Oleandra's heartstrings— but Oleandra turned away. The apparition flickered and vanished.
"It's a clever application the Magic of Names," said Mai, her voice dropping by half an octave. "I'm impressed— this sort of ritualistic magic only works if the name has garnered enough recognition across a wide enough area. The man's probably Cursed his own name so that whoever pronounces it broadcasts their location to the nearest of his followers."
That would explain why everyone but Dumbledore was so terrified of the Dark Lord's name. Even if they didn't realise how the magic worked, most would rapidly associate saying the name out loud with misfortune.
"Suppose we lie in ambush," said Oleandra thoughtfully. "Couldn't we just keep repeating the name until Vol— I mean, until You-Know-Who ran out of Death Eaters?"
"Doubtful," said Morganna, who had temporarily taken over Mai's body. "He would not be a Dark Lord if he was stupid enough to overlook such a flaw in his magic."
There was something else at work tonight, too: the Death Eaters were far too occupied putting the final touches to their plan to decapitate the Ministry of Magic to bother chasing down those foolhardy enough to utter the Dark Lord's name in vain.
Magical Law Enforcement were at their wits' end, struggling to keep the Statute of Secrecy from shattering around their ears as Voldemort's army of brainwashed Muggle-born agents assassinated Muggle leadership left and right, leaving the Minister of Magic and the seven Heads of Departments exposed…
"Lower your wands, I come in peace!"
Startled, Oleandra and Mai looked outside.
A young man's shadowy figure advanced along the winding footpath, arms raised in the air. Most would have taken it as a sign of surrender, but Oleandra knew better — that was Elhaz's defensive full-body stance, which shielded him as long as he held the pose, allowing him to close the gap safely. As he neared the light spilling from the house, Oleandra caught a glimpse of gold atop his head.
"Stop right there, Malfoy!" Oleandra barked, raising her wand. "Or whatever it is you call yourself, these days!"
A shiver ran down Mai's spine as her Mystic Eyes beheld the otherwise normal-looking young man standing a dozen feet in front of her. His magical aura was abnormally dense, signalling a concentration of magical circuits one might expect from a 110-year-old human.
"I just want a word," said Malfoy cheerily. "Might I come in?"
Oleandra and Mai could both feel a headache coming just from looking at him. Somehow, Malfoy's spirit origin had twisted into falsehood itself— he had turned into a being of pure contradiction, the antithesis of everything they stood for. Even if he spoke the truth in their interactions, Oleandra doubted she'd be able to tell the difference.
"I cannot see through that man," hissed Morgan le Fay, borrowing Mai's lips to speak. "It's two against one. We should kill him while we still can."
"No need to be so hasty," said Malfoy, a smile tugging at his lips as he ignored Oleandra's command and continued moving towards them. "Why don't we begin with introductions? I am called Loki— Oleandra and I are already acquainted, but I do not have the pleasure of knowing you, Miss Transfer Student…"
Loki: the Norse god of mischief, trickery and deception.
Recalling the old storybooks she had pored over, Oleandra couldn't help but shiver. The ancient monster standing before them was a trickster just like themselves, except his tongue wouldn't twist into a knot if he deliberately told a lie. It was the worst possible match-up, for Fairy Magic cut both ways: Greater Fairies gained power when they fooled others, but lost it when they were fooled in turn.
This man was dangerous.
"The way things are going, this little war of yours is going to be a walk in the park for the Dark Lord," Loki sighed, shaking his head as if he found the whole situation deplorable. "As fellow tricksters, wouldn't you agree that this would be dreadfully boring?"
Loki produced a vial from his sleeve like a Muggle magician performing a trick.
"Behold!" he declared theatrically. "A small bottle!"
A strange feeling of familiarity washed over Oleandra as she squinted into the dark mist within. It seemed almost alive, coiling like a snake before springing towards the glass walls that sealed it in, desperately trying to break free from its crystalline prison…