Oleandra paced around in circles in the privacy of the treehouse home Mai had reserved for her use, racking her brains. Time was of the essence, but the British Isles were vast, and she hadn't the faintest idea where to begin searching for Tracey.
She knew only that Tracey had taken the Hogwarts Express back to London for the Christmas holidays; Neville had mentioned seeing her on the train, and a quick check of the Marauder's Map had confirmed she was no longer anywhere within the castle walls.
"Knock, knock!" came a familiar voice. "May we come in?"
Startled, Oleandra looked towards the entrance.
"Astoria?" Oleandra breathed, staring as her little sister's head rose over the ledge, a few unruly locks of fiery red hair spilling about her face. "Is that you?"
Taking those words as permission to come in, Astoria clambered up the rope ladder and pulled herself up onto the front porch, tossing her hair back. "I've brought you a visitor," Astoria said, extending a helping hand to the platinum-haired beauty climbing after her, pulling her up with little effort. "She says she's an old friend of yours."
Oleandra's eyes narrowed. The young woman's face seemed oddly familiar. Now, where had she seen those annoying features before…
"About Daphne…" Astoria began.
"I already know," Oleandra said, cutting her off. "Look, I'd love to catch up and hear about your adventures— how you ended up here and all that— I mean, I'm relieve you're okay, but I'm rather busy. I just killed Voldemort, which means the Death Eaters are probably going after everyone I care about, and Tracey's gone missing…"
The platinum-haired beauty gaped at her in disbelief, and something clicked inside Oleandra's head. Loki had changed himself into a woman to bypass the magical restrictions barring boys from entering the women's dormitories… but he'd never changed himself back, had he? Ever since then, he'd relied on a Perthro-based Glamour to maintain his usual appearance!
An illusion, in other words.
"Don't you dare laugh!" Draco hissed. "Not one word! You know how to undo this, right? Change me back!"
"I wasn't going to! Besides, I've no idea how to undo such magic— and even if I did, why in Merlin's woollen arm warmers should I help you?" Oleandra cried helplessly. "Look, I haven't the time to deal with this nonissue right now! Can this wait!?"
The Aesir inheritance, concealed within the final rune's constellation, contained no information on how to reverse a change of gender. Loki, ever secretive, had never shared the intricacies of his magic with his fellow clansmen. And unfortunately— or perhaps fortunately, where Draco was concerned— he could scarcely recall a hundredth of what Loki had done while inhabiting his body…
"We can help you look for Tracey, since it's probably going to be dangerous," Astoria offered. "You're Cass's friend, so you already know how strong she is, yeah? I've got better with Arondight, and besides" —she lifted her hand from the pommel of the Sword of the Lake and tapped the side of her nose with a grin— "my sense of smell's really good. I know her scent, so if we can find somewhere she's been, I can follow her trail!"
Oleandra shot Draco a strange look. "Cass?" she asked.
"Short for Cassiopeia, and don't use my other name," Draco muttered. "I don't want Father learning about all this after I change back."
Cassiopeia seemed awfully certain she'd be able to return to her male form eventually, though Oleandra wasn't holding her breath, because runic magic had a way of lingering. One only had to look at the House‑Elves for proof: the words of binding that the Aesir had seared into the Dawn Elves of Alfheim had long since etched themselves into their very bloodline, ensuring that their species could never escape their bondage.
"Look, if you promise to help me, I'll help you look for Tracey Davis," Cassiopeia sighed. "I've learned a trick or two from my time under Loki's care, so I'm sure I'll be of help."
Astoria glanced between Oleandra and Cassiopeia. She hadn't the faintest idea what they were on about, but she was relieved that her new friend hadn't lied to her. Her older sister did seem to know Cass, even if she didn't appear to like her terribly much.
"I'm not making any promises," Oleandra sighed. "I'll give it a try, but don't expect any miracles."
…
And so, the bargain was made, and Oleandra's new party exited the Muggle‑Born Sanctuary through the Fairy Ring that led back into London. She would have liked a word with Mai before leaving, but the urgency of finding Tracey left her no choice but to let the matter go.
Once they arrived, Oleandra traced a reversed Perthro rune on Astoria's cheek and cast a Glamour over her, granting her Narcissa Malfoy's likeness. Naturally, Cassiopeia protested at once, so Oleandra altered Astoria's guise to that of Jemima Abbott— a woman she knew almost nothing about, save that she was Hannah Abbott's mother.
The only reason Oleandra knew of her was Jemima's tearful plea for help in finding her missing daughter, which had been published in an article in The Daily Prophet, shortly after You-Know-Who's resurrection. It made her seem a safe choice; Jemima had little left to lose, her only child having died at the Dusk‑Elf's hands three years before.
Of course, had Hannah still been alive, Oleandra might have learned at school that Mrs Abbott had been found murdered in her home the previous year— killed by Death Eaters.
As for Cassiopeia, Oleandra reasoned that her current appearance was disguise enough; her hair and fine features made it obvious to any onlooker that she was related to the Malfoys. For her own part, Oleandra used her Metamorphmagus talent to assume Bellatrix's appearance— no one, she reasoned, would dare stop to question her.
"Hold on tight," Oleandra warned her companions, bracing herself to Disapparate.
Diagon Alley would be their first stop; as the beating heart of London's Wizarding World, it offered the best chance of finding traces of Tracey. If they came up empty‑handed, they would move on to King's Cross. With any luck, the recent snowfall wouldn't have wiped away her scent… assuming she'd been there at all.