Mad Eyes and Mad Noses

Mad-Eye Moody's good eye narrowed, while the other spun erratically. It was widely known that in most cases of violent crimes, the victim knew their aggressor. Obviously, these statistics didn't apply in the case of Wizard attacks on Muggles, since the kind of person who would attack a Muggle would rather eat slugs than admit they knew a Muggle personally. However, in Moody's line of work, there was no such thing as coincidences. He discreetly left the room to check on something.

"Sorry I left without saying anything," said Oleandra, who couldn't bear to look her in the eyes. (The trunk was too distracting) "I've been busy these past two years. I've been living in a boarding school."

"I still can't believe magic's real," sniffed Stacey. "If it's all real, why can't they magic my nose back to normal? They told me they erased my parents' memories, and that I couldn't go back."

"I'm sorry," said Tonks gently. "It's a complicated situation. The effects of dark magic, like curses, are very difficult to remove. And this one is really bad. The Healers told me it keeps changing you back, no matter how hard they try. It's better for you and your parents, this way. Look on the bright side, at least now you're living in a totally magical world!"

Stacey started sobbing again.

"This isn't magical at all, this is a nightmare," she said, blowing her trunk. "I look ridiculous, and my nose is so heavy I can't even hold my head up straight. And it keeps moving by itself."

"Stacey, did you see who did this to you?" asked Oleandra. "At least we can bring them to justice."

She shook her head. Well, so much for that.

"Here, hold out your hand," said Oleandra. "I might be able to help."

She took out a bottle of ink and a quill from her pouch.

"Now, don't move," Oleandra warned her. "This is Everlasting Ink, which means I can't afford to make a mistake."

"Wait," Moody, who had just returned, said brusquely. "What are you going to do to this girl?"

"I'm going to draw a rune on you, which will prevent people from noticing your… trunk. It won't turn you back, but people will perceive you as being normal. Do I have your permission?"

"So that's why you disappeared," said Stacey bitterly. "You're one of them too. Yes, do whatever. It can't be worse than an elephant's trunk."

Oleandra carefully drew Perthro on Stacey's left hand. Nothing happened.

"Okay, good. The ink's dry. Why don't you try touching it?" Oleandra suggested.

Stacey tapped her index on the mark, which glowed faintly. Under Tonks's and Moody's amazed eyes, the girl's figure wavered like a mirage, and the image of a pretty young girl appeared before them.

"You're a Runesmith?" gasped Tonks. "But you can't be older than fourteen! Mr. Moody, doesn't it take years of study and hours of work to get even a single rune right?"

Moody gave her a small nod.

Indeed, for ordinary Runesmiths, runes needed to be drawn, inked and carved extremely precisely in order for them to produce magical effects. If it wasn't for the fact that their powers were incredibly potent, not to mention lasted eternally as long as the runes retained their shape, nobody would bother becoming Runesmiths! 

It had to be known that ordinary Enchantments weakened and dissipated with time. The only exception was Goblin-wrought silver, whose Enchantments actually strengthened with time, but nobody knew how they did it. Perhaps it had to do with the reason why Goblins insisted that their human-owned works be returned to their race after their original purchaser's death, but Wizards could only speculate, as Goblins were very good at keeping secrets.

"I'm about to enter my third year at Hogwarts," said Oleandra with false modesty. "I'm sure I still have much to learn."

"Preparing ahead of time, are you?" grunted Moody. "If memory serves, they only start teaching Ancient Runes in your third year. Not bad, considering you've been in a coma for the past few weeks, Miss Greengrass."

Alastor Moody wasn't especially fishing for a particular answer, but in his experience, lies became harder and harder to conceal as they piled on, especially if you kept flashing a light on them. To his disappointment, though, Oleandra didn't reveal any more information.

"Yes," she said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to my sister."

"Thanks for your help, Oleandra," Stacey trumpeted. "Will you come visit me?"

"I'll try," said Oleandra helplessly.

Before leaving, Oleandra turned one last time and tapped her temple, activating her Mystic Eyes. She saw that a roiling mass of darkness had attached itself to Stacey's nose. Oleandra shuddered; within the darkness, a thousand shadowy hands seemed to be grabbing at her. She turned off her magical sight before she gave herself a headache.

Oleandra nodded to the pair of Aurors, then walked briskly back to her room, eager to be free of Moody's scrutiny.

As a general rule, it's better to avoid spending more time than is absolutely necessary in the company of policemen, especially detectives, even if one hasn't committed any crimes. There's something about being in their presence that makes you feel like you're guilty of something, and they can sniff out guilt like a shark can detect a drop of blood in an ocean! Policemen are like elephants; they never forget!

"Welcome back," Daphne greeted her, as she entered the room. "Did you get what you wanted?"

Oleandra shook her head. Nothing conclusive had emerged from her investigation. She had a bad feeling about all of this.

"Nothing at all," she said. "Want to help me write response letters to all of these get-well cards I got?"

"Sister, those people all wrote to you with their best intentions in their hearts," Daphne said lazily. "Don't you think you should be the one to answer their sincerity?"

Before Oleandra could answer, there was a knock on the door. A Healer poked her head in through the doorway.

"Visitors for you, Miss Greengrass," she said. "The Weasleys."

"Didn't you land your rear end on the Weasley girl's head last year?" Oleandra asked her sister. "This is going to be awkward."