"Rennervate."
Oleandra stirred, and a few seconds later, her eyes fluttered open. Her face was bathed in blinding light; she tried to shield her eyes with a hand, only to discover she was trussed up tighter than a Christmas beef roast.
"Stop it, Ron," Hermione's voice rang out. "That's not helping."
There was a click, and the light drew itself into a stream before vanishing, as Ron's Deluminator sucked it up. Oleandra blinked away the colourful spots dancing before her eyes and glanced around. She was back at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place— in the kitchen, specifically. The gang was all there: Harry, Ron, Hermione, young Sirius, Lupin… and they were all pointing their wands at her.
"Don't even try it," Harry warned. "I've seen your rope‑escape trick before, and if you move an inch, we'll have you Stunned again before you can even blink."
Oleandra glanced down and almost groaned.
That blithering idiot! Why couldn't Oleandra have changed out of her flannel pyjamas before bringing her into existence? Of all the things the original could've worn to bed, she just had to pick the pair with her name embroidered across the front. And being a mirror image of the original, of course the writing had come out backwards!
"I wasn't expecting any visitors tonight," said Oleandra, meeting her captors' gazes head-on. "To what do I owe this honour?"
To Harry's surprise, Oleandra's capture had gone incredibly smoothly… apart from the bit where Sirius had been forced to vaporise the door to get into her room. It had been all too easy to find out where she was staying; she'd become the talk of Diagon Alley. They'd caught her in bed, fast asleep, and brought her back to Grimmauld Place without even so much as a struggle.
"Can I give her a smack?" asked Ron hopefully.
"Maybe later," said Harry.
Much to his disappointment, Oleandra didn't seem the least bit concerned about her kidnapping. Though bound from head to foot, she behaved as if she still had the situation firmly in hand.
And she had good reason not to worry— despite being fully sentient, this Oleandra was merely a mirror image of the original, and therefore entirely disposable. Her Galdr had conjured an avatar of herself, complete with all her skills, knowledge, and memories… but none of her magic. This reflection could no more charm herself out of those bindings than she could set their heads on fire just by staring at them!
"Is this because of Ginny?" asked Oleandra, tilting her head quizzically.
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Ron coldly.
"Oh, right, I nearly forgot," Oleandra said lightly. "You lot were the first to Disapparate, yeah? You couldn't run away fast enough when the baddies showed up—"
Smack.
Oleandra's eyes swam, her cheek burning where Hermione had slapped her.
So, reflections still felt pain. Though the original would only receive the memory of it… provided she managed to find her way back to her side. And without magic, her prospects looked bleak.
"You're the one who brought them to us in the first place!" growled Harry. "You've no right—"
"Don't let yourself get drawn into her game," Lupin said gently, patting Harry on the shoulder. "We've got her right where we want her, and she knows it. Just ask her the question."
Oleandra's betrayal had hurt Harry more than he'd expected.
Though he was a Gryffindor and she a Slytherin, she had always been a staunch, reliable ally— and dare he say it, even a friend. For years, he had been haunted by nightmares of her death, and the relief he'd felt when she returned to school the following year was beyond words. She had even ventured beyond the veil to save Sirius, his only family. So, for her to turn against him like this... it was like Peter Pettigrew betraying the Potters all over again.
"What did Voldemort promise you?" said Harry, his shoulders heaving with anger. "Protection for your family? A pardon?"
Harry was supposed to ask her about Dumbledore's inheritance, but he was burning up inside.
"A word of advice," said Oleandra quietly. "You should stop calling You-Know-Who by that name."
"I don't give a damn what you think I should call your master," hissed Harry. "What did Voldemort offer you to betray Professor Dumbledore?"
If Harry wanted to ignore her advice, then that was his prerogative.
"Using the word betray implies I was ever on his side," said Oleandra, raising an eyebrow. "Why ever would I owe the headmaster allegiance? I don't think you realise quite how preposterous the very idea is. We were children, not soldiers in an army."
The atmosphere grew noticeably chillier. Perhaps that hadn't been the wisest thing to say.
"Professor Dumbledore was the greatest man who ever lived," said Harry coldly. "He was the only one Voldemort ever feared— and you, Malfoy, and your sister killed him."
He needed to know why Oleandra had done it. The Greengrass sisters had already proven that, together, they were powerful enough to make even Voldemort flee. If they had only joined forces with Professor Dumbledore, they might have defeated the Dark Lord with ease. So why? Why had they turned on him and chosen the dark side?
"I've done no such thing," said Oleandra stubbornly. "And I've made no such deal with You-Know-Who."
Harry gave an exasperated sigh, and Hermione stepped forward, holding a phial of crystal-clear liquid.
"The production of Veritaserum is strictly controlled by the Ministry of Magic, but somehow, I don't think Scrimgeour would object if I slipped you a dose," said Hermione grimly, holding the bottle under Oleandra's nose and giving it a small shake. "It isn't difficult to brew; it just takes time… so, last chance to tell the truth, Oleandra."
Oleandra wasn't especially keen on taking the truth serum. Even though she could already speak nothing but the truth, there was always the chance the potion might dull her wits just enough to force her to regurgitate her innermost thoughts… but then again, she was just a reflection, not a real human! Maybe it wouldn't work on her.
"Hold her nose for me, would you, Ron?" said Hermione, unstoppering the phial with a loud pop.
"With pleasure," said Ron, grinning broadly.