“Can’t you be more careful?” she asked in exasperation.
Isla heard her brother mutter something under his breath -- it was something about it being an exhausting flight, and that he’d done his best. She sighed to herself. They were all tired, but she knew Ursula’s mood would barely improve, even after food and a good night’s sleep. Ursula was not happy to be in Burma. Coerced by duty to accompany her husband to this ‘Merlin “forsaken country,’ she was taking every opportunity to snipe and moan at Phineas. Isla was sympathetic to her, though, because she still could not understand why she’d been ordered to come along as well.
“Where are we sleeping?” she asked, trying not to sound as if she were complaining.
Phineas pulled out his pocket watch and tapped it. Then, he shook it. It was old and battered -- an heirloom from his grandfather. Isla remembered how proud her brother had been when he’d received it, but now it was like many of the Black possessions “ either useless or sold. He sighed, and then smiled slightly at Isla. “Someone should be along soon. They will have seen the wandlight signal I sent before landing.” He looked into the distance, then back to their possessions. “Let’s roll up the carpet while we’re waiting.”
Ursula pursed her lips and frowned again. She waited until Phineas levitated the heaviest trunk, then perched herself on top, leaving the other two to do the work. Phineas glared at her, and Isla wondered if, just for once, he’d say something to his wife, but then he sat on the ground and began to twirl his wand. “Here, Isla, watch,” he said, and she laughed as the carpet began to roll itself tightly into a long sausage shape.
“Not here, sir,” hissed a voice from behind them. Isla turned to see a man approaching. In the dark, she could not make out his features, except that his hair was blonde; although he was not tall, his shoulders, underneath a light-coloured cloak, indicated that he was broad. “There are Muggles in the area; do you want to draw attention to yourselves?”
Phineas glowered at the newcomer. “You are our guide, I presume,” he said coldly, before adding, “You are late, sir!”
“Barely!” the stranger replied. He stopped and offered a hand to Isla; just before their fingertips touched, she felt the sting of a hex sent her way.
“It is hardly fitting, sister, to accept the hand of a stranger,” said Ursula, watching closely. “Your brother can help you up.”
The stranger stood back. “Forgive me,” he said, directly to Isla. “I did not realise my help would be unwelcome. Does your hand hurt?”
Isla kept her eyes on the ground. “It is nothing, sir,” she replied. She spoke the truth, for she had received far worse at the hands of her parents for her disobedience.
The stranger turned away and walked towards Ursula. “We shall have to carry your possessions, but I am willing to take your trunk. It looks heavy.”
Sulkily, Ursula moved away from him and towards Phineas. “How are you proposing we get to our house, then?” she asked rudely.
Carrying the trunk by the handles, the man did not bother to stop, but turned his head to reply. “Walk, of course. It’s not far. We cannot Apparate “ not here “ there’s far too much chance you’ll be seen by the natives.”
Phineas picked up the smaller trunk, leaving Isla and Ursula with the carpet which they carried between them. Ursula, Isla remembered, had complained copiously at the meagreness of possessions she’d been allowed to bring, but Phineas had remained firm (for once) and told her that he would not fly a carpet that was overburdened.
They walked over uneven terrain for several minutes; Isla, regretting her choice of black-buttoned, heeled boots, turned her ankle over on more than one occasion. The last time, she gasped in pain as she fell to the floor.
“My sister is hurt,” Phineas declared, dropping his trunk.” We must stop.”
Ursula took the opportunity to sit down on a rock and gazed around her, a look of boredom on her insipid face. She brushed at the light brown hair that had escaped from her bun, and pulled her cloak around her.
Their guide turned his head, intent, it seemed, on carrying on, but he caught Isla’s eye and then lowered the trunk. “Show me,” he said gently as he took her foot in his hands.
“Sir, it is hardly seemly to be touching my sister’s ankle,” spluttered Phineas.
He ignored Phineas and looked directly at Isla. “I need to take your boot off, Miss Black. It may be broken.”
Isla nodded and tried not to wince as he slowly unbuttoned the leather boot and eased it off her leg. Holding her silk-stockinged foot gently in his hands, he began to feel her toes, his hands softly feeling around the ankle until they rested on her calf. Isla stayed very still; she was no longer a girl, and knew that, in London, this attention would be seen as improper “ unless the gentleman were a Healer, of course, but the tenderness of his touch allayed any fears she may have had that he were a philanderer.
“Sir, I hardly think that is necessary!” Isla could hear Phineas shout from behind her. The man lowered her foot to the ground.
“It is not broken, Miss Black, but I think you have sprained it. Unfortunately, you will not be able to get your boot back on, and I am unwilling to use magic on you, in case I make it worse. Will you permit me to carry you to the camp?”
“I shall carry her!” Phineas declared. Lifting his sister into his arms, he stood above the blond stranger and glowered. “You, sir, will carry the trunks.”
The guide bowed low, seemingly respectfully, but Isla caught a hint of a mocking smile on his lips. “As you wish, Mr Black.”
It took only another ten minutes before they arrived at the settlement. Phineas was sweating profusely under Isla’s weight, but their guide, who was -- with two trunks -- carrying at least twice as much, was barely out of breath.
“I’ll have to put you down, old thing,” muttered Phineas. “Can you walk the rest of the way?”
Isla nodded; carrying her boot, she limped beside him. The ankle still hurt, and she gasped as she placed her sole on the ground. She heard an exasperated sigh alongside her. “I told you not to put weight on it, Miss Black,” said the guide. Placing the trunks on the ground, he strode across to her and lifted her in his arms. “Do not argue. This is not the time to discuss propriety. You need to see a Healer.” He grinned down at her. “I am Robert, by the way. Robert Hitchens.”
“Isla Black,” she said clearly, avoiding Ursula’s glare at this familiarity.
The Healer, a wizened older man assisted by a lady he introduced as his wife, healed her ankle in a trice. Isla felt the pain leave and smiled in relief. Ordering her to take it easy, the Healer led her out of the ramshackle hut that doubled as his surgery and home, to where Robert was standing.
“Your brother and his wife are settling in to the dwelling we have assigned them. Will you permit me to escort you there, Isla?” She smiled shyly at his polite tone and accepted his proffered arm.
“Is this settlement only for wizards?” she asked as they walked across the encampment.
Before he could answer, they heard a shriek of fury and saw Ursula running out of a wooden house. “I will not stay in this place, Phineas! You cannot make me.”
Phineas ran from the house, but tripped on the uneven ground and went sprawling. “Ursula,” he roared. “You are my wife. You have to stay.”
“Is there a problem, ma’am?” Robert asked Ursula as she ran towards him. His tone sounded as polite as before, but there was no warmth in his voice.
“Th “ that house!” she exclaimed. “I cannot possibly stay there.”
Phineas trotted up to join them. He caught Ursula by the arm and turned her away from Robert. “It is nothing, sir,” he said. “My wife is a little overwrought by one or two things in the house, but she shall not disturb you any longer.” He turned to Isla. “Come along, old thing, we need to sort out a room for you as well.”
“What things in the house?” asked Robert. He looked slightly puzzled.
Ursula wrenched herself away from Phineas and ran back to the house. She returned barely a minute later, clutching several books to her chest. “Muggle books!” she shouted as she dropped them on the floor. “This house is full of Muggle things. You cannot expect me to stay in a house so foul and contaminated.”
Slowly, Robert knelt on the ground and picked up the books, dusting them with the sleeve of his cloak. “These books belonged to my mother,” he said, at last. “I would ask you to treat them with the respect they deserve. It is only fitting, as you are staying in her son’s house.” Ursula gaped at him. “Oh, do not worry, ma’am. I will not be living there with you. I stay nearer the mines.”
“You’re a Mud ... er ... Muggleborn?” enquired Isla, trying to conceal her shock.
Robert stood up and stared at her. “I believe you wanted to use the word Mudblood, Miss Black. I think you will find it is an ugly word in this settlement. Although we welcome anyone here, we do ask for tolerance of each other. ” He turned on his heel. “I bid you adieu.”
“What an uncouth man!” declared Ursula. “But then, what can we expect from one with dirty blood?” She turned her attention to Isla. “You should not be afraid to call him such, sister dear. The word Muggleborn is an aberration “ he is lower than that, as you well know, for he is little better than a Muggle.” The row with Phineas forgotten, she linked her arm in his, and they both walked back to the house.
Isla followed, but turned her head back, hoping to see the man who had carried her to the Healer. She felt she should apologise, but Robert was no longer there.
Despite appearances to the contrary, the bed Isla slept in was very comfortable; she should have enjoyed a good night’s sleep. Phineas had set a cooling Charm around each room, so the heat of the night should not have kept her awake. But Isla could only doze, for there were thoughts disturbing her sleep -- but, when she opened her eyes, she could not remember the reasons for such thoughts.
The sun was high in the sky when she finally woke. The light splayed through the wooden shutters on her window, and she could hear a faint, but intermittent, thundering sound from afar. Sitting up in bed, and stretching her arms, she yawned. There was a tapping at the door.
“Come in,” Isla said, and looked expectantly at the door. Instead of Ursula, a house-elf came in, carrying a tray bearing a pot of tea.
“Begging your pardon, miss,” squeaked the house-elf. “Your brother is saying that miss should be getting up.”
“Oh, sorry!” replied Isla, in embarrassment. Then, she paused. “You speak English, yet your skin is darker than our house-elf at home. Are you from this country?”
The house-elf curtseyed. “Frettle is not sure where she is from, miss,” she replied, sounding uncomfortable. “Frettle was brought here with the goblins when her mistress died.”
“Goblins?” exclaimed Isla, suddenly scared, for she had heard the tales of the goblin rebellions and how cruel they were to magic folk.
“Yes, miss,” said Frettle, as she set the tea tray down on the small table beside Isla’s bed. “There is lots of goblins here. They is working in the mines.”
Isla sipped at her cup of tea. The hot liquid seared her throat, but she felt it revive her. “What mines, Frettle?” she asked.
Frettle’s eyes widened to cricket-ball proportions, and her mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ in astonishment. “Why, miss, the ruby mines, of course. Burma is famous for them.”
“Of course,” breathed Isla, making connections in her head. She hadn’t known why they’d come to Burma. Her father had simply told her she’d be accompanying her brother and his wife on this venture; there were to be no arguments. So Isla had bowed her head, as she always did, and acquiesced. But rubies -- that made sense. They were here to revive the family fortune, to propel the Blacks back into their proper place in society. She got up and sat in front of an ornate dressing table, and began to loosen her hair from its thick plait.
Frettle coughed. “Beggin’ your pardon, miss, but Frettle is very adept at stylin’ young ladies’ hair. Would miss like Frettle to assist her?”
Isla smiled warmly. “I’d like that very much, Frettle,” she replied, handing over the hairbrush.
Standing on a rough wooden stool, Frettle ran her long fingers through Isla’s thick, black hair. It fell far below her waist, but not in the sleek curtain Isla longed for. Her hair was bushy, and it never shone like her sister Elladora’s tresses.
“Miss does not have a house-elf at home to help her, Frettle is thinking,” the house-elf said, a note of disapproval in her voice.
“Oh, we do, Frettle,” replied Isla, “but she is not there to attend to me. My father deems other things more important than my hair. I am not launched into society yet.”
“A young lady should always take care of her hair,” said Frettle, as she began brushing through Isla’s hair. “My mistress had fine hair, and she was rightly proud of it.”
“Who was your mistress?” Isla asked curiously. She was enjoying the feeling of the brush through her hair. Frettle was gentle with the tangles she’d accrued during her restless night.
“Oh, a very fine lady, miss, by the name of Lucretia Delvino. She was an actress, and we travelled across Europe, where she performed for all the best in society.”
“Oh,” said Isla, rather inadequately. She had never met an actress, but had heard her mother speak of them in less-than-flattering terms. “And she died, you said?”
A tear formed in the house-elf’s eyes. “Yes, miss, she died of some dreadful Muggle disease that swept through India when she was last performing there. Frettle could not save her.”
“What did you do?” asked Isla, and she turned to face the house-elf who had stopped brushing now and was looking down at her bare feet.
“My mistress had no family, so Frettle is not bound to anyone, but Master Robert was Mistress Lucretia’s friend and he brought Frettle to Burma when he returned.”
“And the goblins too, I suppose. Does he own them?” asked Isla. She turned back to the mirror and Frettle began to wind her hair into a bun on top of her head
“No one owns goblins, miss,” explained Frettle and she chuckled. “They is magical creatures with their own thoughts.” She stopped and turned Isla’s face to the mirror. A few wisps of hair strayed down Isla’s neck, rendering her appearance less severe than usual. “There, miss, you is looking very pretty.”
“You made it downstairs then, old girl,” remarked Phineas, when she joined him and Ursula on the veranda. Both had drinks on the table, but neither offered her a glass.
“May I?” she asked, as her hand reached for the pitcher.
“Absolutely not!” answered Phineas. “That, sister, is gin, and you are not old enough to drink it. You may, however, help yourself to the tonic in the smaller jug. It is a preventative against a disease that sweeps this country.”
Ursula looked bored by his words and filled her glass again. Isla noticed her looking slightly glassy-eyed.
“Frettle was telling me all about the goblins in this area,” Isla began as she sat down next to Phineas. “They mine for rubies, I understand.” Phineas glared at her.
“Who on earth is Frettle?” asked Ursula, slurring slightly. “Oh, is she that rather dirty looking house-elf? You really should not be listening to her tittle-tattle…”
Isla bit her lip. She wanted to shout at her sister-in-law; Frettle had been kind to her and answered her questions when none in her family had. Instead, she ignored her. “Is that why we’re here, Phineas “ for rubies?”
Phineas nodded. “We are here to make our fortune, Isla.”
“To recover the fortune your father lost at cards and on tawdry ladies, you mean,” interrupted Ursula, now on her third glass of gin.
“But why am I here?” Isla asked. “I hope I am not expected to go into the mines myself. Surely, there are goblins to do all that work.”
Her brother looked away from her and took another slug of his drink. Ursula began to laugh.
“You are here to do as you’re told,” she said scathingly. “You will be meeting important wizards and you shall behave as the daughter of the House of Black should. You will listen, make yourself agreeable, and not give opinions. They are not important, Isla. Do you understand?”
Isla lowered her gaze to the wooden table. She understood now. There were no suitors in London for her, for they would not accept a dowerless bride. And her parents could not afford to keep her at home forever. She was here to marry, and would have no choice in the matter.
“May I go for a walk, Phineas? I wish to explore a while,” she asked softly.
“I don’t really think that’s advisable, Isla,” he muttered unable to look her in the eye. “Not un-chaperoned.”
“I will stay in the compound, I promise.” Phineas looked at her. His dark grey eyes “ the image of her own “ assessing her. She stared back blandly.
“Very well,” he said at last. “You may explore a while, but do not give me cause for concern, Isla. You must remember your position.”
How can I forget, she thought, when everyday they seek to remind me?
She walked aimlessly across the compound, wondering what sort of place this was, and whether she’d find any friends. She had never been comfortable in Ursula’s presence; although she and Phineas had been close once, when he had married, he had grown apart from her. The sun had climbed to the middle of the sky, and she could feel its relentless heat bearing down on her. She looked around for some shade and perhaps a cool spring to drink from, but could spy none.
“Foolish girl, to forget your hat.” She could hear Robert’s scornful voice from behind her, and it infuriated her. How was she supposed to know about hats and this relentless heat? She’d arrived yesterday, with no choice in the matter, and no time to prepare.
Reaching for her wand, she pointed it towards her room, and said loudly, “Accio Hat!” In the distance, she could see something flying towards her, and she smiled to herself. Holding out her hand, Isla caught the wide brimmed, flowery trimmed hat with aplomb and then placed it on her head. “Is that better, sir?”
“More suitable for a wedding than a walk,” he replied, “but I don’t expect anything less from someone like you, Miss Black.”
“It serves its purpose,” she said, and felt surprised at the sharpness in her tone. Why did this man’s opinion matter to her when he’d shown he cared nothing for hers?
He looked as if he were about to smile, but then he looked away. “Where were you heading?”
Isla sighed and looked around the compound. In truth, she’d explored most of the site and there wasn’t anywhere else she needed to visit. There were very few people here, she had hoped to talk to the Healer’s wife at least, but she had not been at her home. “I should be heading back,” she said finally, adding in a wistful tone. “There is nothing here left to explore.”
There was a silence, and then Robert lifted his eyes to her face. Isla stared into his hazel eyes that looked, of all things, interested, and she was surprised. “You should venture outside the compound. You may find something more exciting there.”
She looked into the distance and sighed. “I cannot leave here un-chaperoned; my brother would not approve.”
He laughed acerbically. “And, of course, I would not be a suitable escort, would I? A Mudblood and a pureblood “ the idea must appall you.”
Isla blushed. “Please, I did not mean to call you that name. It slipped out in error. After all your kindness to me that day, I did not wish to hurt you.”
“You think that word, Miss Black, and, believe me, you did not hurt my feelings, merely confirmed my suspicions about the type of family the Blacks are.”
“And what, pray tell, type of family is that?” Isla asked coldly.
“Arrogant purebloods with no thought of others, just their own ambitions. A society girl looking for a rich man to cling to, so she need never live in the real world.”
“You’ve assumed a lot about me, sir, on the basis of our short acquaintance,” she argued. “What work do you think I should be doing? Digging for rubies? Or, perhaps, you think I’d be a finer person if I were an actress like Lucretia Delvino?”
Robert laughed. “Frettle has been talking to you; I can tell. I thought I recognised her expertise in the styling of your hair.” He looked her up and down. “I cannot see you as a miner, Miss Black, for you’d get those lily-white hands and ivory robe far too dirty. Actress? No, I doubt you have the fire in you. You’ll be well suited to marriage; it would require very little effort on your part. And there are wizards here aplenty who would be only too pleased to have a pureblood as their bride. You will make a good alliance.”
Isla felt a red-hot rage inside her as this insufferable man belittled her. “You know nothing about me, sir. Do you think I want to be here? Do you think I have a choice? I am a daughter of the House of Black, and I am as tightly bound to my father’s wishes as your house-elf is to yours.”
She turned sharply away and then, breaking into a run, she scrambled over the wooden fence and scurried along a dusty track. From behind, she thought she heard Robert calling her, but she did not wish to hear him lambasting her again, so she kept on running.
She sped past withered trees and ramshackle huts. She swerved to avoid Muggles in their overloaded carts who trundled along at a snail’s pace until, at last, the winding track began to slope downwards into a valley. There were steps cut into the rock, and she sank down on them, gulping deep breaths of the humid air. Her hair was damp with sweat now, and began to fall out of the elaborate bun that Frettle had so carefully styled. Her throat felt dry, and her lungs ached from the exertion, but as she looked down into the valley, she felt perfectly at peace.
“You enjoyed that, didn’t you, Miss Black?” She looked up, unsurprised to see Robert standing over her. “Running away, I mean. Escaping your confines.”
“Go away,” she said, then added, “Please, I just want to be alone.”
She heard his footsteps edge nearer, and then he sat on the next step down. “Believe me, I do not wish to be here, knowing how much you despise my kind, but I cannot leave you alone, Miss Black. It would be remiss of me as you know nothing of the dangers lurking.”
Isla was silent. It appeared she had no choice; she would have to suffer this man’s company at least for a while. “What is this place called?” she asked at last, as she gestured below them.
“The Valley of Rubies,” Robert replied. “It is where the mines are.” He raised one hand. “Do you see the smoke over there?” Isla nodded. “That is a Muggle mine “ they are blasting the rubies out. The goblins are far more methodical. They may not have wands, but they seem to Charm their way to the best gems in the territory.”
“They work alongside Muggles?” Isla asked, not exactly shocked, but definitely surprised.
Robert laughed. “They do not see the goblins. The wizard-owned mines are concealed from their eyes, and the goblins have their own encampment upon which we have cast Muggle repelling spells.” He stood up and held out his hand. “Would you care to look around?”
Isla looked at his hand, sorely tempted to accept his offer and enter this fascinating valley, but the mention of her brother had reminded her of the promise she had made ... and broken. She shook her head and stood up. “I should go back. Phineas will worry.”
“Come on, Miss Black, your brother and his wife were working their way through a pitcher of gin, when I last saw them. They will not notice your absence, for, in this heat, they will soon be slumbering like babies.”
She looked again at the valley, but, sighing, she turned away. “I should get ...AGHHH!”
“What is it?” Robert asked urgently.
Isla began breathing fast, her eyes widening in terror. “A serpent, sir. There is a serpent there in the grass.” She began to shiver and backed away.
Robert edged towards her and then pulled her behind him. Peering over the grass, he carefully brought out his wand and approached cautiously. “It is a Naja-Naja,” he whispered. “What we would call a cobra.”
Isla watched as the cobra slithered across the stony path. Its undulating body caused ripples in the dust, and she could see the black and gold markings on its throat as it reared its head to look at her.
“I could kill it if you wish, Miss Black,” whispered Robert. “Or we could wait for it to pass, and then return.” He paused. The snake began to move its neck, stretching up to the sky. “Although it seems to be basking in the sun, so we might be here a while.”
Isla kept her eyes on the snake. “He is magnificent,” she breathed. She placed her hand on Robert’s wand arm. “Please, sir, do not kill him.”
“Well, Miss Black, it seems we are stranded here until he moves. So, we can either sit on the ground for a while waiting on our friend to get bored of basking, or we can take the other path and I shall show you the mines.”
Isla looked longingly at the valley, she could see more smoke coming from the Muggle side and heard the bangs as they set about blasting the rubies from the ground. Then, she turned her head back to the snake. He seemed to be mocking her as he tilted his head towards her. “I would like to see the mines,” she whispered.
“Well, let’s back away slowly from our friend,” he said, in a low voice, “and I shall take you there. I should warn you that your pretty white robe will get very dirty, and your silk hat will suffer too.”
“Well, then, it is a good job I shall not be attending any high society parties, then,” she murmured as she followed him away from the cobra.
They walked down the stone steps hewn into the hillside, and Isla could see Muggles scurrying about all over the plains. As she got closer, she saw they had dark skin and some were very small. “They use children!” she said in horror.
“Oh yes,” replied Robert, and there was a bitter edge to his voice. “The Muggles here are not averse to exploitation to get what they want.”
“Who owns those mines?” asked Isla. She had stopped, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight of small boys in ragged clothes, dragging troughs full of rock to large tents. “That man wielding the whip does not look like a native.”
“No,” replied Robert. “He is one of the managers. The mines are owned by rich white Muggles who do not care about conditions as long as the rubies keep coming out of the ground.” He walked a step or two further down, and then turned back to her. “The wizard mines are better managed and we cannot exploit the goblins.” He grinned. “We would not dare.”
He resumed walking, and Isla followed, averting her eyes from the Muggle mines and the sight of grown men with their shirts off. “What is your position here, sir?” she asked when they’d reached the far side of the valley.
“I am a bridge, Miss Black,” he answered. “That is to say, I work for Gringotts as their liaison in this place. There are very few wizards willing to work here “ especially with goblins on one side and Muggles on the other “ but I was born in Burma to Muggle parents, and can also speak gobbledegook, so I am valuable to them.” He bent down to the ground and picked something up from the floor. Rubbing the dust off, he held it up to the sun.
“It is a ruby,” he said, when she looked across at him.
Isla looked at the dull dark red pebble in his hand. “That is worth all this effort? I cannot see my mother wishing to wear a pendant with that stone. Why, it does not even shine!”
“It needs cutting correctly and polishing, and then it will shine like a blood-red sun. Your kind in England will be clamouring for this specimen.” He looked at Isla. “You are not convinced.”
“No, I am sure you are correct, I know my sister-in-law prizes rubies highly.” She grimaced as she remembered Ursula’s fury when she discovered that the Black family jewel casket was filled with worthless fakes, charmed to replace items sold many years before.
“But you don’t?” Robert inquired in disbelief.
“I do not think it is worth whipping a child to wear a bauble,” she muttered.
“That is an unusual opinion for one of your status, Miss Black.”
“What does my status have anything to do with my opinions?” she asked vehemently. “Or am I not allowed to voice my opinions in your company?”
“No, it is merely that I thought the treatment of Muggles would be beneath your interest. After all, they are lower even than Mudbloods.”
Isla bridled at his accusatory tone. “I have tried to apologise for using that word, but you refused to listen.”
She wanted to turn away, but his gaze held her. She wanted nothing more than to run from this man and return to her brother, but she could not move whilst he was there. “I do not need your apology,” he replied coldly.
“But I need to apologise,” she cried. “I need you to understand that I am desperately sorry for the offence I caused.”
He shrugged. “Go on then, Miss Black. Apologise, if it will make you feel better.”
Taking a deep breath, Isla lifted the sleeve of her robe past her elbow. Despite the heat, she shivered when she saw Robert flinch. She took a step closer. “This scar,” she said, slowly tracing the thick red welt that puckered her skin as it ran from her elbow and past her shoulder, “is a curse scar. There is no cure, and no disguising it.” She stopped and looked at Robert. “I came home from school in my first year for Christmas, and started telling my mother about the girls at school, and how I’d made many friends “ even a Muggleborn girl in Hufflepuff.” She closed her eyes and her voice broke. “Sh-she struck me across the face for using the word ‘Muggleborn’. A daughter of the House of Black and should not be sullying herself by mixing with a child with dirty blood, she said. Then, she locked me in my room to await my punishment. My father arrived home and, when told of my crime, he whipped me with hexes. This is one scar; I have five others on my back.” She stopped, and to her horror, a solitary tear escaped and ran down her cheek. Embarrassed, she brushed it away. “I do not expect you to understand, but please try to believe that my apology to you is sincere.”
Robert stepped forward and plucked the sleeve of her robe across her arm, slowly covering the disfigurement. He held her hand in his. “It is I who should be apologising,” he said softly as he raised her fingers to his lips. “I judged you on your name and one half slip of a word, and then, when you tried to explain, I refused to listen.” He bent forward; for one moment, Isla thought he was about to kiss her, but he merely lifted a strand of her hair from her cheek and smoothed it behind her ear.
“We should be heading back, Miss Black. I am sure the cobra will have gone by now.”
Isla looked down at his hand, which was still holding hers. Robert followed her gaze and loosened his grip, but she held on tightly. They gazed at each other, and Isla could barely hear the explosions from the Muggle mines, so loud was the beating of her heart as it hammered in her chest.
“Please,” she said, at last, her voice barely louder than a breath, “call me Isla.”