PAPER CONFINES.
19. / Resignation

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Nadya's mother used to tell her to choose her battles wisely. It seemed a more appropriate message from her father, after the first outset of world war when a naval ship new in his name was armed in Bombay—that he had been chosen and tasked but chose for himself, too: which battles to fight and which to lay down arms. It had been those choices that saved countless men from what their fleet admiral would have allowed to become a bloodbath. That had earned him a degree of respect and wealth not so easily won, especially in England. But Nadya's mother, with an eye for subtlety and a penchant for turning the impossible in her favour, knew how to win a battle without her opponent knowing she was in the fight at all. Her sword and armour was charm, discretion, guile like a lioness in the coat of a house cat. Nadya possessed such grace but mostly lacked the patience for it. She still tried to internalize the message. She liked the message. But sometimes the battles she knew she'd lose demanded to be fought for exactly that reason—to not give up what so many had told her didn't belong to her: hope.

It had been two weeks since the Knights stole the book.

She knew it was habit and not reason that made her distance herself. Plotting violent ends in a self-made shell like an hermit sans religion was Nadya's habitual way, and she couldn't stand to see Colette pulling at strings and skipping class and looking... looking like Nadya; desperate for solution, tiptoeing around reality, haplessly seeking justice where there was none. There was a tinge of sought revenge on her face that Nadya recognized as it grew because it was like looking in a damn mirror. It didn't suit her. It fit uneven, like a right shoe on a left foot. But Nadya wondered if maybe Colette thought exactly the same thing whenever she looked at her. She said it best after their attempt at poisoning Dolohov with canelés: it doesn't matter how many times you think you are ahead, they will always win.

But Nadya was nothing if not persistent.

If she was going to lose, the Knight of Walpurgis were going to lose with her. If she was going to die trying, she was going to die bloody enough that they'd never clean the stain.

Colette would riot if she knew that, so Nadya made sure that she didn't.

With the way she had been dodging her—instead spending her days stalking two corridors behind any follower of Tom Riddle at any given time, tracking their routines, stocking vials of less-than-ethical potion ingredients with a key to the student's storage he had no business knowing she had—it was a shock Colette hadn't cornered her and shook the truth out like a sickle from a coat pocket. It wasn't that she was clueless; Colette kept her weary gaze on Nadya in the classes they shared and the few times she stopped by Claude's dormitory, twirling her quill between her teeth, passing her notes with ideas scrawled in pretty cursive. They'd spoken, too, but it felt like before Banks' disappearance, when there was nothing forcing them together and every conversation faded away in a cloud instead of ending with purpose. Nadya hated it. Nadya missed her. She hadn't realized how badly she'd been missing her the last year until she had her and gave her up again and there was something whole where it had long been empty.

"Miss Sidhu!" Slughorn exclaimed, taking a strong whiff of her cauldron. She met his impressed pat on the back with exactly the meek smile he wanted to see. "A mighty fine brew, this batch. Much better than your last—you do know how to keep me on my toes! I can never tell what to expect at your table."

Nadya gave the smallest bow of her head. Because gifted as she was, she wasn't supposed to think she was worthy of his praise, or dare she admit better than her peers—Nadya was supposed to be honoured she'd even been looked at twice. It was her duty to the only professor who actually liked her to play the coy, gracious role well if she wanted him as a reference after graduating. "Thank you, sir. Your notes helped."

They didn't.

"Oh, those little things? I'm surprised you can read them, what with my poor cursive—"

She couldn't.

"—But I'm glad to know someone in this class takes my word into consideration!"

Rosier snickered at the table over. Slughorn's head turned owlishly, and she covered it with a cough. "Sorry, sir. I think some of the smoke from Nadya's table got in my throat. It's persistent, this potion, don't you think? Can't stay where it belongs."

She was so boringly predictable Nadya couldn't resist rolling her eyes. "There's an empty table in the back, if you want." Her false sincerity was believable enough for Slughorn, who glanced between their conversation with a crooked, unsure smile. Rosier's lip twitched.

The empty table was Tom's.

"Oh, I don't know that there would be a point. That one's so close to Claude, and this potion really is—"

"I must say I don't mind the smell of it." Slughorn moved to Rosier and Greengrass's table and knelt over the cauldron. "There are worse potions to be so pervasive, don't you think? Imagine a cloud of Fungiface!" He shuddered for good measure and then made a face at the string of blue balsam that clung to his wand as he pulled it from the cauldron. "Hm. Light on the honeywater next time, Rosier. It's a bit thin."

He moved onto the next table and Nadya smiled to herself. She had no idea how Horace Slughorn managed to be her favourite professor when she didn't even like him, his taste for gossip and general cluelessness considered, but it was a damning truth against the other staff at this miserable school.

She tidied her workspace slowly as the class came to an end, eyeing each student that shuffled by on their way out the door. The wonderful thing about Slughorn's third period N.E.W.T class was that on Wednesdays he left in such a hurry to steal mallowsweet from Madame Codde's stores while she ate a late lunch that it left Nadya alone in his classroom to steal from his.

And, as per routine, off Slughorn went among the fleeting crowd of seventh years with a few empty vials tucked under his arm. Nadya swept the remainder of her things into her bag and waited for a drawn-out moment of quiet before moving to his cupboards. She took the key from under his pot of starthistle (which he'd charmed to be invisible when he suspected no one was looking, but Nadya was always looking) and quickly unlocked the door. It opened to scattered shelves, a disarray of bottles labelled with smudged ink and powders spilling from their receptacles. Nadya hadn't stolen from Slughorn in two years. It took a great effort and a greater burial of distress over what had happened last time to find what she was looking for with a level head. He'd settled them with the eggs previously—occamy eggs, runespoor, ashwinder—and then the sopophorous beans. Nadya's nimble hands found easy passage pulling the tin from the back of the shelf. She twisted the lid and poured three into her palm.

Tucking them into her robe pocket, she slinked out of the half-open door and into the corridor with all the inconspicuousness of a student who had simply forgotten something in class and left a few minutes later than the rest.

There was a scratch in the side of her favourite saddle shoes that was all she could stare at as she followed the route Rosier took to History of Magic. She made a mental note to write her mother for a shiny new pair—and maybe a box of her favourite chai. Colette's little batches gifted by her aunt weren't quite like the tea back home, and Nadya was conscious not to mention the tins getting smaller as her parents' bezants dwindled. She'd considered a gift of her own once or twice, something to speak what her words couldn't, but Nadya didn't have the first clue how to translate a sermon that long into something tangible. She used to treat it like a sport. For Banks: a map of constellations, a book on Celtic runes and another on Uagadou to remember her grandmother by, a little wooden sailboat and a hairpins like stars and moons. For Colette: artwork of the French Alps, soaps from India because she always said she liked the smell, new baking spoons and a golden coffer enchanted to polish her jewellery. And when Nadya would catch Banks trailing along Cepheus pinned to her wall or smell marigolds in Colette's embrace, that felt like a first place prize.

Nadya dusted the memory away at the door to Ravenclaw tower. Keeping Colette and Claude's suspicions at bay by attending their forums while she followed her own plans had the added benefit of keeping up with theirs. And in the two visits she'd taken to Ozanich's dormitory since planting the bug in Dippet's office, those plans remained impressively stagnant.

"Afternoon," she said after being let in by Lillian.

Colette perked up from her seat at the windowsill, Petra slumped in her lap. Claude only glanced up from his half of the listening bug and clicked his tongue.

"I told you to knock, Sidhu."

"I told you to lock your door, Ozanich," Nadya countered.

"Well, I thought you'd be here right after me considering we came from the same class."

She narrowed her eyes. "I forgot something."

Colette scratched behind Petra's ears. The cat looked miserable without Banks, and more miserable with Colette, who was the only person she didn't seem to like. Something about French accents. "I didn't know you were coming at all."

"Yeah, well, Potions is my only N.E.W.T level class and I'm starting to regret taking it. It used to be my best and I'm just..." She stopped herself with a breath. "It doesn't matter. Any updates?"

"Dippet has been pacing for the last five minutes, if that interests you," Claude said. "He mentioned the mysterious, nameless boy again last night."

That interested her. "What did he say?"

"He was talking to Spyros Yves, one of the men who questioned Banks and Riddle after finding Ruby. He just... asked after him. The boy in question. Asked Spyros if he was making progress on the case, and of course, Spyros is a detective, so he barely gave an answer, and then Dippet got angry and told him to leave."

Colette added with a tilt of her head in the direction of Claude's desk, "Claude and I have been writing a transcript."

Nadya followed her nudge to the notepad sat atop a disarray of sketchbooks and pencils. Petra meowed and jumped off Colette's lap to follow her. She nuzzled against Nadya's leg and didn't seem to mind that Nadya refused to look at her for too long. She'd tolerate the creature for Banks' sake, but with her gone, Petra was only a reminder of what would be left behind if Nadya couldn't get her back. She bit her cheek, picking up the notepad to read.

NOVEMBER 12TH, 1944

DIPPET PACING (LOTS OF THIS) (PROBABLY NOT NECESSARY TO SHARE)

"Wow, Ozanich, you're a wordsmith."

Claude snickered humourlessly. "Thank you, Sidhu. Show up more often and you can listen to me talk as much as you like."

Nadya ignored him.

SOMEONE ENTERS OFFICE (ABOUT TEN MINUTES LATER)

?: (?) (INDECIPHERABLE)

D: SPYROS, THANK YOU FOR COMING (?) ... FROM SIBERIA, TOO!

S: NO NEED, ARMANDO. (?) SET UP AN EFFICIENT FLOO NETWORK ACROSS RUSSIA. I ONLY WONDERED WHY YOU ASKED ME BACK SO SOON.

D: NOTHING SO GRIM AS THE LAST TIME, REST ASSURED.

S: I SHOULD HOPE NOT.

D: I WAS WONDERING ABOUT YOUR PROGRESS ON THE CASE. I'VE BEEN FENDING OFF A VISIT FROM THE MINISTER ALL WEEK AWAITING YOUR WORD. I CANNOT GIVE HIM NOTHING WHEN HE FINALLY COMES, SPYROS.

S: I UNDERSTAND, BUT YOU KNOW THE TRACES LEFT BEHIND HERE ARE FEEBLE TO FOLLOW. MY EXPERTISE IS REQUIRED IN SIBERIA. I TOOK THAT JOB BEFORE THIS ONE (?) ... HAVE A CONTRACT.

D: YES, BUT (?) THE BOY

(SPYROS INTERRUPTS)

S: YOU SHOULDN'T WAIT FOR HIM. I'VE SPOKEN TO HIM AND HIS INEXPERIENCE MAY HAVE BEEN ADVANTAGEOUS AT FIRST BUT THE WILLINGNESS THAT COME OF IT IS SHADOWED BY HIS PACE.

D: THEN FORGET THE BOY. IT'S YOUR AID I NEED.

S: I'VE TOLD YOU ALL I KNOW.

D: SO TELL ME AGAIN!

S: THE BANKS GIRL SEEMED UNCERTAIN OF HER WORD WHEN WE SPOKE. NOTHING LIKE HER SISTER. THE RIDDLE BOY WAS JUST AS DISTURBED BUT FAR MORE SURE. WHATEVER HAPPENED IN THAT LAVATORY WAS POWERFUL ENOUGH MAGIC THAT THEY LEFT NO TRAIL AFTER THEM. TRUST WHEN I SAY, ARMANDO, CASES LIKE THIS REMAIN QUIET IN THE FIRST FEW WEEKS AND THEN ODDITIES SURGE FOR THE SURFACE (?) ... ALWAYS DO. I AM LOOKING FOR THEM. I WILL TELL YOU WHEN SOMETHING CHANGES.

D: I AM NOT PAYING YOU FOR CONJECTURE, YVES. MY LIVELIHOOD IS AT STAKE! SO YOU KNOW (?) ... CANNOT BET ON A WILD HORSE!

S: THEN DON'T.

DIPPET'S CHAIR SCREECHES

D: KEEP CLOSE TO YOUR NEW FLOO NETWORK. I WILL BE ASKING FOR YOU AGAIN, AND I EXPECT RESULTS.

S: ARMANDO

(DIPPET INTERRUPTS)

D: I BID YOU TO LEAVE NOW.

Nadya didn't bother reading the rest. "Spyros knows Banks' sister?"

"They work in a similar field in the same country," Colette said, shrugging like it was only a guess. "They could have been placed in the same case."

"Okay. I just don't understand, is he in Dippet's pocket or not?"

Claude picked at dry paint on his wrist. "It's hard to tell. He certainly seems to flock to Dippet's every beck and call, but he must have his reservations, otherwise he would have been upfront with him about the case."

"Unless he actually hasn't found anything."

"That's... possible. Discouraging, though. If anyone's gonna find something, it's him."

That was the last thing she wanted to hear. "Still, it might be good to know why Dippet wants a Ministry hand at his bidding in the first place."

"Spyros doesn't work for the Ministry."

Nadya put down the notebook. "What?"

"He's a private investigator," Colette said. "The Ministry does not like him, but he technically has done nothing illegal and he's very well-known, so they cannot interfere."

"Then... how was he allowed to be involved in a case here, at Hogwarts?"

Claude shrugged. "He's well respected by those who don't think the Ministry always handles things properly. My father hired him a few years ago when our dittany fields were tampered with. He's been working back and forth between here, Russia, and Central Asia for the last decade."

"Yes, but—Hogwarts—I'm the last person to call it organized, or logical, or god forbid safe, but what business does our Headmaster have hiring anyone but government to handle a case involving dead children?"

"What do you think he was doing in Russia—how do you think he knows Reid? He's been at every scandal Koldovstoretz has had that was big enough to make the papers here."

"So, he keeps beating the Ministry at their own job."

"Which is why they don't like him very much."

"Naturally. But what does Dippet need with someone notorious for getting to things before the Ministry does? What reason other than to get something done without anyone official knowing about it?"

"Precisely."

"Precisely? What, you have another lead you're keeping from me?"

"Keeping something from you implies you've actually been here to have it kept from you at all. I don't know how I would be capable of doing that since you don't show up. I only mean Colette and I already talked about this last night."

Nadya crossed her arms.

Colette cleared her throat. "We think most realistically Dippet wants to solve this case before the Ministry has only the choice to fire him, which is why he is taking... unofficial precautions."

"Dippet getting sacked is the very least that could come of this—it's far more likely they close the school entirely."

"What do you think?" Claude asked. "You think there's something more here?"

"I think it doesn't matter," Nadya said on a sigh, "I'm sorry, but it's hardly news to me that Dippet is running around like a headless chicken while the Ministry does the same. None of this gets us closer to finding Banks or implicating Riddle and his Knights. I'd love an opportunity to burn Dippet to the ground and if he's got some thin legal tightrope he's failing to tread then that's music to my ears, really, but I have bigger concerns than some mystery boy and a detective from Russia."

"Right. Bigger concerns like studying for Potions."

Nadya clenched her teeth.

Claude cocked his head. "What? I mean, that's what you've been doing the past two weeks, is it not?"

"Claude—"

"No, Colette, it's fine. Look Sidhu, you wanted my help, and I don't want to be an arse, but I gave you an ear into the office of the only person in this castle besides the Knights of Walpurgis who might be able to get us closer to finding Banks. If you have a better plan, you're more than welcome to share. I'd probably kneel at your feet if you did, all my words rescinded."

"I don't have another plan," she spat, "I'm telling you this isn't one. This is nothing."

"I don't believe you."

"You don't know me."

"No, thankfully I don't."

"Right." Nadya scooped up her bag and pulled it over her shoulder. "This has been enlightening. Thanks for having me."

"Claude—Nadya, just wait," Colette pleaded, standing up.

She shook her head. "No, I'm... I'm not helping here, it's fine. I really hope you find something useful and I will be there if you need me." Nadya was surprised to find it wasn't sarcasm that pricked her words but the threat of tears. She wasn't even sure why. Claude's opinion of her mattered as much as the scratch in her shoe—the value of a teenage boy's judgment that could be discarded and replaced by another's at the snap of her fingers—which was to say it mattered very little. But his words rung true. Because of course it wasn't Potions she was concerned with; it was Banks. And every day she felt more impossible to reach.

Colette opened her mouth and closed it.

"Okay? I'll be there if you need me." Nadya kept her eyes on Colette's, and stupidly wanted her to smell like marigolds instead of vanilla. She wanted to be close enough to bring her new soaps and artwork and bowls to stir with the spoons she'd already bought, and new spoons to replace those ones if Colette asked. "You two just do this."

Claude was tight-lipped and quiet where he sat. He never fidgeted or slouched or gave any indication unless he meant to to show how he felt. Maybe that was why Nadya was so bothered by him. He knew how to play off her like she played off everyone else, and she couldn't figure out how to do it back to him.

"Lock the door behind me," she said, and left.

Nadya fought the urge to sneak into Banks' dormitory and wrap herself in her blanket and cry. Instead she swept through the Ravenclaw common room like a storm to the corridor, and didn't dare to look at all of the places Banks was absent on her way out.

It wasn't until she reached the dungeons again that she felt like she could breathe. It was heavy, dingy air, and she could smell the Black Lake in it. There was finally the absence of other shoes walking behind her and she yanked hers off without care. Tossed them down beside her and watched another scratch form when they scraped against the stone. Nadya breathed. She thought about how sad it was to find any solace like this, and how her mother would have scolded her for walking on dirty underground floors with no shoes, and told her to stand with her chin tall to make up for taking her height. She wished she would appear out of thin air and do just that.

Even that peace was short-lived.

There was this clack and scuff—proud, unfaltering—that approached from the adjoining corridor. She didn't know where the inclination came from: if she knew the sound somehow or if survival instinct roiled in her faster than most, but Nadya grabbed her shoes at a sinking feeling in her gut and turned for the Slytherin dormitories. The sound sped up, grew closer even as she accelerated her pace. It had a confidence to it that put her at unease. It reminded her of Tom Riddle. It reminded her of boys who chased her into a pond when she was a child, and tried to drown her, and it reminded her of the anger she felt that she had to be so fucking angry all the time. That this had been her single constant. That any oblivious voice could attempt to nudge her to a better path, and she was supposed to ignore that it was paved red by blood like hers. Nadya wasn't blessed with a kind introduction to this life. Magic hadn't come to her in the form of the Fae or a broomstick on her birthday or mechanical toys made by a madwoman witch—it came to her in the form of a knife. Damn anyone who told her to feel guilty for picking it up.

Before she could reach for it, a wand was pinning her to the wall by her jugular.

Nadya remembered thinking for a moment that she was going to die. Like Ruby Belahue and Myrtle Warren and any other muggle-born who hadn't been a story interesting enough to have their name remembered, she would die bloody, but not a martyr. She felt regret at the thought. All that anger wouldn't have been for anything, and she would have died without doing any of the things she wanted.

"Play nice."

She swallowed, face against the stone, trying to peer her head around when she already knew exactly who it was. It didn't feel like a very big weight had lifted at the realization that she was going to live, because Antonin Dolohov somehow always did worse than kill her.

"Don't I always?"

He spun her by the shoulders and dug the tip of his wand into her chin, forcing Nadya's eyes to his. She sometimes thought about a temporary height enhancement just to be the one looking down at him for once.

"Augusta tells me you've been spending extra time in Slughorn's stores after class. She also says some little creature's been following her and Zenith in places it shouldn't be. Might've even seen a black braid whipping around the corner."

"Could've been anyone."

"But we both know it wasn't, so let's not waste time."

"Did Riddle teach you Legilimency before his untimely disappearance? I can't imagine how else you'd feel so confident suggesting you know what I know."

He traced his spare hand along her hair. "What's your game, Sidhu?"

She shrugged, but her stomach coiled. "Chess, usually."

Dolohov smiled. Slowly, and then all his perfect teeth shone in a way too genuine for Nadya to know what to do with. She imagined rows of them, each sharper than the last. And the great white shark nodded as if he'd expected a remark like that. His hand closed in a loose fist around her braid, and with a discomforting delicacy, untied the thin black ribbon holding it in place.

As he spoke again he pulled her hair loose over her shoulders and ran his fingers through it. "I know you want the book, so I'm hoping we can come to an understanding. Maybe even call it a compromise."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're usually a better liar."

"You're usually not this forward."

He tilted his head, too analytical for Nadya's comfort. "I'm not doing it to scare you, Sidhu. I know better ways of doing that, if you can remember—and it plays out the same every time—you think you're finally a step ahead and you're always wrong." He met her eyes with uncanny fondness. "Don't try to take the book. Fifth year didn't need to happen the way it did. Let's not repeat it."

Nadya couldn't speak through the lump in her throat.

Dolohov's wand snapped from her chin with a precise cut, and a hiss broke through the barrier words wouldn't.

"There's a word—a term they use for a chess game already lost, isn't there? When the next moves are so obvious it would be impolite to play on?" He wiped the amassing blood with his thumb.

She looked away into the empty corridor to avoid his gaze.

"Ah ah," he scolded, fingers locking her jaw in place. "I asked you a question."

"You resign," she snapped, hoping it sounded stronger than the empty breath it felt like on the back of her teeth.

"You resign," he copied gleefully. "That's it, isn't it? I want you to remember that before things go wrong for you. Remember that they didn't have to. Resign with grace, Sidhu, and only the king falls. Don't force your pawns into a battle they can't win."

Dolohov took his hand from her chin and tucked his wand back into his robe pocket, the familiar clack and scuff of his dress-shoes somehow prouder as he walked away, and Nadya swore he licked her blood clean from his fingers before he was too far gone for her to notice.

[ . . . ] oh my god it has literally been SIX MONTHS since the last update IM SO SORRY!!!! i had the worst writer's block of my life and i'm sure it shows in this chapter so i will likely be editing profusely over the course of the next few weeks but i just wanted to publish this since i feel so bad for leaving it for so long. hopefully it's alright :')  /  word count. 4334

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