Bernadette stared at Quirrell for a moment, then ultimately did nothing. None of it was any of her concern.
As she headed out, however, she ran into Hagrid coming in for a drink. The half-giant greeted Bernadette with immediate enthusiasm and invited her back inside for another round. She'd been about to decline — but then she recalled what the man had mentioned, that Hagrid had a rather good relationship with the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest, and that she herself had been wanting to learn more about centaur astronomy and prophecy. She turned back and chatted with him for a while, and the two of them agreed that Hagrid would take her to meet the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest sometime soon.
An hour later the two parted ways outside the bar, and Bernadette made her way down two streets to a bookshop. Word was that Hogsmeade hadn't had a bookshop before; this one had apparently only opened the week prior.
The shop was small, and as though it hadn't been tidied yet, books and odds and ends were heaped everywhere in no particular order. A young man stood inside with his head bowed, sweeping.
He heard footsteps and looked up. "We don't officially open until next—"
He didn't finish. He snapped his mouth shut and instinctively stepped half a pace back. "Vincent!"
Hm?
He knows me?
Another person I have no idea who they are. That man really is impossibly unreliable.
Vincent could only hold his hands up in resignation on his end — how was he supposed to know she'd run into Henry in Hogsmeade of all places? (Henry being the same Henry from Knockturn Alley, from before.)
Bernadette gave an unhurried nod, showing neither warmth nor strangeness. "I'm looking for a few books for teaching Chinese to my students. A beginner's level."
"...I'll have a look, but I can't promise anything." He crouched by a low shelf and rummaged through it. "I don't read Chinese myself."
At that moment, a soft girl's voice drifted from the back: "Henry, is someone here?"
As she spoke, a girl with long golden hair and pale grey eyes appeared in the doorway, hands spread wide, carefully feeling her way forward one step at a time. She looked no older than thirteen or fourteen, her eyes blank and unfocused, wearing a faint, open smile. "I'm sorry, we don't open until next week."
Henry had by then pulled a few Chinese books from the bottom of a shelf and handed them to Bernadette. "Have a look at these — I can't read them, so I don't know if they're what you need."
"How much?"
"...Just take them."
"Right. Thank you."
Bernadette didn't say more and turned to leave — but just then the girl quickened her steps, moving toward her with sudden urgency: "Is that Vincent? Is it you?"
Henry caught her by the arm at once. "It isn't," he said evenly.
"How — how can it not be, that's his voice—"
"You're mistaken, Patricia."
"..."
The girl's head drooped in disappointment. She turned toward Henry's direction. "When are we going to find him, then?"
"Soon. Just wait a little longer."
"...Alright."
Bernadette watched with a slight frown as the young man guided the little girl back into the rear of the shop, and ultimately said nothing. These two were strangers to her as far as she was concerned — she'd see straight through herself in three words. Let the man sort it out himself when he gets back.
Not long after Bernadette left, an old witch in a pointed hat walked into the shop. Henry immediately went over and lowered his head. "Madame Rosier, you're here."
"Mm." The old witch gave a cool nod. "How has the young miss been lately?"
"Patricia — that is, Miss Grindelwald — has been perfectly well. She's taken quite a liking to life here."
"Look after her properly. It won't be much longer before you can formally join us — the Saints."
"I — yes. Understood."
Henry hesitated, then ventured the question: "I just wanted to ask... what exactly are we here to do?"
"Keep still and wait," said the old witch flatly.
"Right." He steeled himself and pressed further: "And my other companions..."
The old witch's eyes sharpened. "I'll see to them for you. Focus on your own affairs."
She paused, then added: "Remember. Everything is for the greater good."
...
Monday morning. The two of them completed another exchange.
When Vincent returned to his weakened body, he found himself seated by the window with a bottle of cola held in one hand, perfectly naturally, already halfway through drinking it.
That woman is going to make me fat one of these days.
Out of habit he went looking for Bernadette's message — and found just one line. She'd run into a pair of "familiar faces" at a newly opened bookshop in Hogsmeade: a young man and a blind little girl.
Vincent stared. He was a little uncertain: that description — doesn't that sound like Henry and Patricia? But why would Henry have come to Hogsmeade with her and opened a bookshop?
Patricia was a little girl Vincent had rescued from the hands of a dark wizard back when he'd been running with Henry's group. She'd been in a terrible state, clearly having suffered horribly. When they'd first got her out, she'd been like a wounded small cat — terrified of everyone except Vincent, until, after a long time, she'd slowly recovered and found her place in their strange little family.
In terms of closeness, she was naturally closest to Vincent. She used to follow him around everywhere, and he'd looked out for her like a younger sister.
When Vincent eventually broke away from Henry's group, he'd originally intended to take her with him — but she had refused. Because she had been brutally hurt by Muggles before. Her eyes had been blinded by Muggles. She had no desire to return to a life in the Muggle world.
Vincent had known perfectly well that leaving her with Henry's group was dangerous, but he couldn't drag her away against her will just by claiming it was "for her own good."
Thankfully, not long after, some of Patricia's family had come and taken her away, and Vincent had severed his remaining ties with that chapter completely.
Strange. Patricia was taken away by her family years ago — so why has she turned up with Henry again?
He was going to have to pay Hogsmeade a visit.
...
The World of Lord of the Mysteries.
The moment Bernadette recovered consciousness, she took Vincent's letter and, without wasting any time, crossed through the spirit world back to Emerald City and made her way to the most secluded study in the castle.
She went quickly to the shelf where her father's journals were kept and pulled them all down at once, opening from the very first volume.
Her brow knotted the moment she set eyes on the page — not because of what was written, but because of her father's handwriting. It was crooked, slanted, full of unreadable runs of connected strokes. For Bernadette, who had barely scratched the surface of Chinese, it was immediately baffling.
Beyond the dates and basic numbers, she could only piece together the most elementary phrases — "you, I, he," "today, tomorrow" — through pure guesswork.
By the end of the first journal, the words she'd encountered most frequently were various permutations of "Madam" and "Miss."
She couldn't fully decipher the sentences, but combined with what she knew of her father's character in his early years, she had a fairly clear picture of what it amounted to.
The anticipation and warmth she'd carried here drained away in an instant, as though someone had thrown cold water over her head.
The expression faded from her face. She turned the pages quickly, one after another, skimming through on the off chance something legible might catch her eye.
Half an hour later, Bernadette's finger came to rest on a single short line: "The twenty-seventh of January. I love [blank]women! Turns out nothing beats a man who acts like a real man. Magnificent!"
Love what women? Real man doing what exactly?
She closed her eyes. The answer was already forming quite clearly in her mind. The fingers holding the journal grew tighter and tighter.
Roselle Gustav. You have truly not let me down.
I crossed two worlds. I learned "Roselle-script." And this is what you made me read?
To be continued…
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