The Good Slytherin

Chapter Twenty-Five: Delphinia

The green flames subsided and Delphinia found herself crouching in the fireplace of Thornridge House, wand clutched in her shaking hand, and before her lay the darkened contents of her parents' kitchen. As her eyes slowly adjusted, she could make out the familiar shapes of the kitchen table, gnarled wooden walls, cupboard, and shelves. Even though it had been a while, she could easily have found her way around in the dark. The familiarity of these objects and the smells of home brought comfort. Only now did she begin to calm, though her sister's rejection still stung. Her mind became clearer and she remembered what she had to do. Delphinia stepped out of the fireplace, pushed back a damp strand of hair and silently made for the faint glow of candlelight coming from the study down the long hallway.

It was just about midnight and she wasn't surprised to see that her father was still awake. Often he would sit at his desk into the early hours of the morning, quill scratching furiously on parchment as he drafted his latest essay on house elf rights or opinion editorial on the struggles within the Wizarding community. How would he react to her and her pleas for help? Would he reject her as Eurydice had? The memory of their row was still fresh in her mind a year and a half on and no doubt still fresh in his mind. They had both said some terrible things to each other--words not easily forgiven. She hoped would have a chance to make things right, but for now there was very little time.

She found him in his favorite wing chair with the Daily Prophet opened up before him, brow furrowed and lost deep in thought. For the moment, Delphinia was invisible to him; he had not yet noticed her standing in the doorway. He looked so content as he read that she hated to break the mood.

"Father."

Startled, the newspaper came down into his lap and Gerard Thorpe looked as though he was seeing someone long since dead for him. Delphinia supposed it didn't help that she must look a right state with her damp hair and clothes. His eyes narrowed on her and she couldn't help but sadly notice that he had seemed to age quite a bit since she last saw him.

Her father reached to his spectacles as if he though his eyes were deceiving him. "Delphinia?" he gasped. She watched as his eyes traveled down the length of her arm to where she clutched her wand.

Not wanting to alarm him any further, she put it away. "I'm sorry to have to come to you like this." Her words felt so inadequate.

"But you are all wet?"

She moved cautiously into the room. "Father, I need your help."

With this plea, he became the embodiment of calm. She had forgotten about his wonderful ability to be clear headed and decisive in the midst of a crisis, making her wish she had come to him instead of her sister. "Del, tell me what has happened?"

Fragments of the last few hours rushed through her mind. She had made a fatal slip of the mind, a slip so brief that Delphinia thought it actually might go unnoticed--but it had only taken a second. With her failed Occlumency, her mind had been laid bare before her master and her treachery exposed. She had realized her mistake as soon as Voldemort's rage filled eyes had fallen on her. There barely had been time to disapparate.

"The Dark Lord. I've betrayed him and now the Death Eaters are after me." It was the best summarization she could come up with.

"After you? What have you done?"

"I've been secretly passing information onto Dumbledore."

He took a deep breath. "And you want my help?"

"Yes. Please say you will?" She was surprised how childlike her voice suddenly sounded.

Her father stood up, folded up the newspaper, and placed it on his desk. "Wait for me in the kitchen. I will go get your mother." He was out the door before she could say thank you.

"Please hurry," she called out in the same plaintive voice, hearing her father's heavy footfall on the wooden staircase.

Back in the kitchen, Delphinia turned on the lights, contemplated putting the kettle on, but sat down and set her wand on the kitchen table instead. As each moment passed by without a word from her father, she couldn't help but feel her anxiety return to her twofold. She nervously traced the grain on the wood before getting back up to pace. Her mind again went back to earlier that evening. She had had to keep moving, an hour spent apparating all over the whole of southern England in order to stay one step ahead of the Death Eaters.

She had shivered in torrential rain, hid in forests, crept in Muggle alleys before returning to her emergency plan. It was too dangerous to go to Dumbledore just yet. Her family would buy her some crucial time.

There was a shuffling upstairs. Her mother, perhaps? Would she readily forgive her wayward daughter as her father seemingly had? Delphinia sat down again only to get back up, her thoughts running at a mile a minute. She couldn't afford to waste anymore time. It already felt like an eternity in that kitchen.

That's when the whole house shook with an explosion.

Instantly, she knew what it meant. The noise itself had been deafening, causing her to jump back painfully against the corner of the kitchen table. Her mind was a torrent of malformed thoughts, each urging her to do something different. From this confusion, her instincts kicked in, blood pounding as if there was no other sound in the world.

Thump, thump.

Delphinia blindly made towards the source of the blast. Part of her knew what fate awaited her, though she continued down the hallway undaunted. Ahead, she saw wood and dust--the front oak door had been shattered to pieces. Two men, whose forms were still familiar even in their hooded cloaks, scrambled through the remains.

They had found her.

One of the Death Eaters made for the upstairs and she heard her father's shout as if underwater. The other man was coming for her, wand outstretched. Closer and closer. She reached for her own wand, but it wasn't there--it was still on the kitchen table. Time itself seemed to slow down and a strange parade of thoughts and images flashed through her mind. They ranged from the banal to the serious, as if her brain was trying desperately to make the best use of itself before the end. Did her victims struggle with the same thoughts?

The hood came off and Lucius Malfoy was staring at her with such contempt and loathing. Delphinia knew what was about to come. She wasn't surprised when he uttered the familiar words. She wasn't surprised when green jet made contact with her body, killing her instantly. She had only wished she had more time . . . time to make things right.