Robes billowing in the wind, Oleandra streaked across the skies, skimming low over London where rooftops and chimneys blurred beneath her. She glanced at her watch— ten o'clock. An hour until the Hogwarts Express departed. Not that she was likely to miss it; there were no Muggles left in London to loiter near the barrier at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and keeping students from slipping through unnoticed.
Within minutes, the clock tower of King's Cross came into view. Oleandra urged Suit the Lethifold to descend, swooping down to land before the station and very nearly giving a small family a collective heart attack. She ignored their startled cries and made straight for Platform Nine, slipping through the magical barrier a few paces beyond the first barrier.
At once, she found herself before the gleaming scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express, plumes of white smoke curling lazily from its chimney. A wave of nostalgia washed over her as she passed the locomotive and stepped into the nearest carriage. The years had slipped by quicker than she'd ever imagined— somehow, she was already in her seventh year. This was to be her final year at Hogwarts, marking the last time she would ever board the train, as she doubted she'd stay long enough to see who won the House Cup...
Oleandra walked leisurely down the corridor, glancing through the glass-panelled doors in search of an empty compartment. Though the Muggle-Born had been excluded from attending Hogwarts this year, the train was relatively full of students, seeing as You-Know-Who had put into law that attendance was mandatory for school-age children.
"It's her…"
"Murderer…"
"How d'you reckon they did it?"
Oleandra was no stranger to stares.
When other students caught sight of her strolling down the narrow corridor, most ducked back into the relative safety of their compartments, never mind that Oleandra was still more than strong enough to rip the doors from their hinges with her bare hands. Others— mostly her fellow Slytherins— met her gaze with a mixture of fear, admiration, and apprehension.
Clicking her tongue in annoyance at the lack of empty compartments, Oleandra moved on to the next coach, only to find Ginny leaning against the wall, chatting with Loony Lovegood. Her eyes flicked to her stump, now outfitted with a brand-new hand that shimmered and sparkled as if it was made of molten silver.
"Airgetlám," said Oleandra numbly. "Silverhand. I should have known."
Ginny's shimmering hand flew to her pocket and hovered there.
"So, you remembered," she said at last, almost wistfully. "The World Cup… the gala... it's certainly been a while."
Although it had only been three years, the World Cup felt like it had happened an eternity ago. All of the world's problems stemmed from that fateful day, according to what Oleandra had heard. And that silver hand… it was exactly like the one Wormtail had. Oleandra had had a good chance to look at it when You-Know-Who had ordered him to use his magical hand to tear out her heart, following the Battle in the Department of Mysteries.
"I'm rather surprised to see you here," said Oleandra, her Mystic Eyes fixed on Ginny's aura to look out for surprise attacks. "I wouldn't have thought you'd return to Hogwarts."
"Haven't you heard?" said Ginny testily. "School is mandatory. My parents would be punished if I ran off."
Oleandra sneered.
"A heartless bitch like you?" she said derisively. "Don't make me laugh."
"What's the hold-up, Ginny?"
Oleandra's smirk faltered slightly as the next two glass-panelled doors opposite Ginny and Luna slid open, and eight members of the R.C. Club emerged, wands at the ready. Neville Longbottom, Michael Cormack, Susan Bones, Zacharias Smith, Ernie Macmillan, Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein, Seamus Finnegan…
Though the plan had been for her to attract as much attention as possible to provide an adequate alibi, this was perhaps too much attention. While Oleandra didn't fear being outnumbered, as Suit the Lethifold was durable enough to withstand most non-dark magic curses, she didn't want this conflict to be prolonged.
"You fought You-Know-Who to save my aunt," said Susan imploringly. "Why would you join him, Oleandra?"
"Move aside," said Oleandra quietly. "You're in my way."
This was no longer fun.
"Forget it, Susan," said Ernie, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "You're wasting your time trying to figure out why she turned traitor. She's just a coward."
But Oleandra was no coward. Had Ernie been in her place, standing before eight wands with his hands in his pockets, he would have long since fainted under the pressure. If anyone was a coward, it was those who fancied themselves brave, facing down a single Witch with eight on their side.
Everyone in the corridor collectively held their breath… until Seamus, nerves jangling, tightened his grip on his wand a tad too much. Sparks shot from the tip, and in an instant the carriage was alive with bolts of magic in every colour of the rainbow, save for green.
…
Oleandra's room in the Leaky Cauldron Pub & Inn, earlier in the morning.
"What in Hel's name have you brought me now?" asked Oleandra, gesturing to the large, colourful bird running in circles inside her mostly empty room, claws skittering against the hardwood floor. "Is that…?"
"A Diricawl, commonly known as the Dodo among Muggles," said Mai lazily. "Your payment for helping me build my... our army… or rather, your wages."
Oleandra stared at the flightless bird, who stared back at her inquisitively.
"Last I checked, the only pets allowed in Hogwarts are cats, owls, and toads," said Oleandra. "What exactly am I supposed to do with this thing?"
Mai simply stared at Oleandra pointedly until she started feeling embarrassed.
As she had learned in Care of Magical Creatures, Diricawls possessed the remarkable ability to teleport. And it just so happened that she needed a more reliable short-range teleportation spell than flinging around marked acorns and Tree-Porting to them.
"You're not saying I should…?" said Oleandra hesitantly.
"Despite Diricawls possessing the instinctive ability to Disapparate when they sense danger, Muggles have managed to eradicate them wherever they found them and to subsequently turn them into rotisserie chicken," Mai recited robotically. "Yes, that's precisely what I'm saying," she added with a sigh. "Diricawls are remarkably stupid, so even you shouldn't find it too difficult to trick this one and steal its magic."
Oleandra rummaged in her pockets and found a stray Every-Flavour Bean, and the Diricawl snapped to attention, tilting its head and following the treat with its beady eye.
Perhaps learning Disapparition wouldn't be necessary after all…