Daemonologie and the furry thief
Friday, 5 December 1986
03:05 pm
"So the books are still there somewhere in England, then?" Darcie asked, her eyes shining brilliantly.
"No one knows," Madam Villanelle shook her head. "One of the three original books was last seen in the 1700s near North Berwick. A few hardcore Warlocks are searching for it."
There was no question about why they were still searching for them, and it was apparent that the search might last forever. Darcie believed the nature of such books, and the material they contained, was worth every moment spent in their search.
Madam Villanelle shut the book in her lap then. It was a thick book with hard black and brown covers. Its title - Daemonologie, In Forme of a Dialogue: the Magical Truth, glistened silver against gold.
They had started their studies in European Witchcraft and folklore two days ago. And with Darcie devouring the knowledge like a depthless mire, even though the sessions had lasted only for 2 to 3 hours, they soon found themselves face to face with an old myth that had been inspiring wizardry researchers, authors, and had assisted in the creation of contemporary witchcraft.
The original book, 'Daemonologie, In Forme of a Dialogue, written by the high and mighty prince, James I by the grace of the God King of England, Scotland, France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith,' was a dissertation making arguments and comparisons between magic, sorcery, and witchcraft, including the Classifications of Demons. However, it was said that an unknown ancient wizard had assisted the old king with whatever adventures had led to the book's creation.
The said book had three parts with the first part dealing with Necromancy, witchcraft, charms, conjurations, Contract with Devils, and more. The second dealt with sorcery and its relation to witchcraft, curses, dark rituals, and dimensional teleportations. And the third book listed a plethora of magical creatures, including Demons and Devils.
All Books, as of now, stood lost in the river of time but were not forgotten.
"Is the chiaroscuro woodcut, The Witches, by the muggle artist, Hans Baldung, inspired by this?" Darcie asked, remembering a particular relief she had seen at her home. [Image 1]
Madam Villanelle raised an eyebrow. "You are right," she told her. "How do you know of it, Darcie?"
"We have the original print at our home," she told her mentor.
"But… that must have cost a fortune…" Madam Villanelle mumbled, shocked. "Ahem! Anyway, we will continue next week, and discuss the myth of the Witch of Endor."
Darcie nodded. "Umm, mentor?"
"Yes, Darcie."
"The part which was last seen near North Berwick, which one was it?"
Madam Villanelle pinched her cheeks. "Always the curious one," she said, smiling. "Hmm, it must be the second part, if I am not wrong."
"Why does it sound like you have been there, mentor?" Darcie observed.
Madam Villanelle smiled knowingly at her. "No more prodding about my old work, young lady," she said, smirking. "Go on, now. Look, your friend is here."
'Friend?' Darcie repeated the word, confused.
Suddenly, the tiny bells at the door rang behind her. Darcie's back was facing the door, and they were sitting behind the main counter. She stood up, spun, and lifted herself onto her toes. With the stack of books in front of her, she barely saw the incomer.
Yes, a friend, indeed.
Darcie came out in the open and neared her. "Daphne," she said, bringing her to the main counter. "Meet Madam Villanelle. Mentor, this is Daphne Greengrass."
Daphne had met with Darcie's mentor, but because of Lucius and Narcissa occupying the newly appointed Assistant Manager, she hadn't gotten the chance to interact with her.
"Good evening, Madam Villanelle," Daphne greeted, giving a curtsy. "You look ever so lovely in purple. Darcie told me you are an incredible witch, with extensive knowledge of Ancient Magical History. It's an honor to make an acquaintance with you."
And then Daphne went quiet, standing close to Darcie. Both girls looked at Madam Villanelle with calm and composed eyes.
The witch greeted Daphne back with an odd expression. "If I didn't know about you two," she told the girls, "then I would have thought you were sisters. Both of the same pot, huh? I guess that's the most you have spoken this month."
"Yes." Darice and Daphne said together. Among themselves they shared a lot, but with a third person, the girls were as weird and quiet as anyone could be.
The corner of Madam Villanelle's mouth twitched. "OK," she finally said, letting out a sigh. "Now I know the reporters will not bother you, Darcie. The minister talked with the Daily Prophet and the reporters. Still, I don't want you two to go beyond Ollivander's shop. By 5, you two must be back, and off to your homes. Alright?"
The girls nodded.
As the studies were only planned for five days a week, it was decided by her parents and the minister that Darcie would spend the weekends at home, going to the Malfoy Manor Friday evening, and then returning by Sunday night after dinner.
"Off you go, then." Madam Villanelle shushed them away. "And don't forget to call the house-elf!" she shouted as the girls left the shop, her voice dying with the chiming of the bells.
Darcie and Daphne kept close, their arms brushing each other. The evening chill seemed to have pervaded the afternoon. Every day felt like it would see the first snow of the season now.
"Did your mother come with you?" Darcie asked, looking into the Brews and Stews through the windowpanes.
"Mmm-hmm," Daphne nodded. "She told me to come straight home, though."
"This is also my second time outside because of the reporters," Darcie told her. "Dobby!"
A loud crack and the house-elf apparated by their side. "Dobby is so happy, Ms. Darcie!" the house-elf breathed. "Dobby brought you freshly baked cupcakes. Ah! Dobby didn't know Miss' friend would be here…"
Daphne patted Dobby's head. The girls were only slightly taller than the house-elf if it was not for his slouching stature. Darcie was an inch taller than Daphne, but with the winter clothing on them, it was hard to tell the difference.
"Come," Darcie said, eying the cupcake and gulping. "Let me show you all the shops."
The group of three marched on down the alley, with the various shop owners eying Darcie as she went by introducing Daphne to the shops. By now, the entire Diagon Alley knew that the daughter of Lucius Malfoy, the said prodigy, and the rumored child, was staying at Brews and Stews and pursuing her studies at Flourish and Blotts under the new Assistant Manager, about whom they knew little.
"Are you practicing?" Daphne asked, her eyes darting around restlessly. It was her second time here in the Diagon Alley, but the first time without the company of her parents.
There was a wildness in freedom, Darcie knew. She had already tasted it.
"Yes, but it's not satisfactory," she told her. "Without a wand, I can't practice brewing potions. But I am learning new and exciting things. So that's something."
Then Darcie told Daphne about her last exploration, meeting with Mr. Ollivander, and the topic her mentor was teaching her now. If it was anyone else, they would have looked jealous. Not Daphne, and knowing such was the foundation of their friendship. But the absence of jealousy had nothing to do with the presence of desire. Like Darcie, Daphne too had a penchant for learning Magic, and her magical aptitude was better than most, if not at Darcie's level.
"We knew this would take time," Daphne said, staring at the Quality Quidditch Supplies shop.
Darcie had to nod.
Eating cupcakes, the girls crossed the entrance of the Horizont Alley.
"Good evening, Ms. Tabatha," Darcie greeted the florist. The witch had come yesterday to the bookshop, bringing a flower for Darcie. "How are you?"
"It's winter, and I am not cold," the old witch said, smiling affectionately. "Who might this be? A friend."
Darcie introduced Daphne.
"Oh, well!" the florist blurted, taking out two blushing flowers. "Take these, you two. Don't go too far. I heard somebody went missing in Knockturn Alley."
"Dobby will protect the two Misses," the house-elf proclaimed, taking out his weapon; the silver fork.
The girls then moved on. Darcie greeted Madam Malkin, who came out of the shop seeing her, looking quite cheerful than the last time they had met. The old witch took an immediate liking to Daphne and refused to let the girls go without showing them the new stock that had arrived yesterday.
By the time they reached the Ice Cream Parlor, passing the Gringotts Wizarding Bank, it had already become too late.
Darcie bought another ice cream for Dobby, whispering the house-elf's favorites in Daphne's ears.
She then reached for the purse at her waist to pay for the ice cream.
"Huh?!" Darcie exclaimed.
"What happened?" Daphne asked, her eyes adjusting to see what Darcie was looking at.
Darcie had opened the purse, but in place of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts, there was only emptiness there.
She had been robbed.
Dobby was also looking at the purse, and his big, green eyes were bulging out in fury.
"There!" Daphne suddenly shouted, pointing further down the alley.
A black furry thing was running down through the wizards' and witches' legs. Darcie saw the faintest hint of gold in its hand before the glint disappeared for good.
"Dobby will not let the thief go!" The house-elf lifted his both arms, carrying ice cream in one and the silver fork in another, and ran for the vanishing black blur.
"No!"
"Wait, Dobby!"
The girls cried, shared a glance, and then fell into a run, the prospects of a hot pursuit making them smile.