An oracle is a person (usually a priestess) or shrine through whom gods or deities reveal hidden knowledge or prophetic predictions. Perhaps the most famous is the Oracle of Delphi, who was the mouthpiece for the Greek god Apollo.

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s u s a n

The dying afternoon sun was shrouded behind low-hanging clouds, and my shoes scuffed the slick cobblestone as Lorcan and I strode down the street.

I began to turn the corner towards the telephone box where the visitor's entrance was, but he yanked me away. "How many times must I remind you, I work here, darling," he beamed at me condescendingly, like I was a wandering child.

"Yes, but I don't, you idiot!" I said in a frigid panic. He only laughed, a light chuckle that carried away with the cold, balmy air. "Family can take the main entrance."

We pattered down the stairs to the underground toilets, and I struggled to keep up with his long, casual strides. The passageway was bustling with unsmiling Londoners carrying their work bags, marching along sternly in an unspoken race to their next destination.

The toilet was absolutely filthy. Its walls were caked with scum and my nose twitched at the smell. I watched as Lorcan put his foot into the dirty bowl and held out his hand to me. "Step in," he instructed.

"What's wrong with the visitor's entrance?" I whined, remaining firmly by the sinks. His fingers twitched in beckoning. "Any day now, love."

I squeezed my eyes and climbed in, trying not to think of the grime under my shoes. He flushed, and I felt myself being sucked into little hole.

The Atrium was huge, larger than I had imagined. With my hand in Lorcan's, I allowed him to lead me in the direction of the counter, behind which an old lady sat, her lids hooded with boredom.

This was fine. We were not committing a crime. I would merely be Lorcan's visitor. They would not ask me what for, and if they did, I will just say I was distant family come to visit for the holidays.

"Stop your fussing. We aren't going to see the bloody Queen!" he muttered from the side of his mouth. I huffed loudly at him in annoyance and steeled my face as we approached the lady. "Afternoon, Rose!" he announced, too loudly for my liking.

Rose peered down her glasses at him, and then at me. "My wife," Lorcan grinned. "It's Bring-Your-Spouse-To-Work Day." He squeezed my hand behind the thick marble that separated us from her, biding me to play along with his charade. I forced a smile to match his.

She lifted an eyebrow, her dull gaze flitting from Lorcan's face to mine. "I must have missed the memo," she droned.

"You must have, indeed!" He propped an arm on the countertop, Cheshire-grin still plastered on his face. "It's still not too late to ring your husband! We're all having a little get-together at the Department of Magical Games and Sports later. He must come!"

"My husband has been dead for four years, Mr. Atwood," she said flatly, her expression lifeless as she blinked at him, unamused.

"Oh, Merlin, Rose, I am so, terribly sorry!" gasped Lorcan, placing a palm on his chest. Then, leaning even closer, whispered in a hushed tone- "Are you looking? At all?" Rose narrowed her eyes at him, but he was unfazed, now stretching his whole torso over the tabletop. "I heard Astroford is going to be there."

She seem to perk up at the mention of that name, only slightly. Lorcan barrelled on. "With your stunning silver hair, and that dress? I mean, you only live once, darling."

With a sigh and roll of her eyes, Rose then turned to me. "Name?"

"Pansy Atwood." The name was out of my mouth before Lorcan could answer for me.

"Pansy?" Rose echoed, scrutinising me now. I held my smile, my cheeks straining with effort. She looked down to scratch something down on a card before giving it to me. ENTRANCE PASS, it read. "Throw it in that box on your way out," she said, jerking her thumb in the direction of a large brown box on the side of the counter before waving us away. "Oh, and Mr. Atwood?" We turned. "Don't call me darling ever again."

Lorcan gave her a sheepish wave and we hurried away, ducking out of her sight and losing ourselves in the horde of other officials milling about.

"Wife?" I hissed at him once we were out of earshot. "You said I was supposed to be family!"

"Wife is family. And the thought of marrying me can't be that bad!"

"Lorcan, I swear to Godric-" I began, but he tightened his fingers around mine. "You know, you really need to lighten up. It's not like Rose was solemnising our marriage!"

"And what about the bloody party you have gone and invited us to?" I whispered as scathingly as I could.

"Don't worry, old Rose has the memory of a troll," he said serenely. "She'll forget about it soon enough. Give it a few minutes."

I groaned. For someone nicknamed "The Laugh", he certainly was a walking joke, and not a very funny one at that.

We were approaching the lifts. I hesitated for a moment but Lorcan pulled me ahead. "Now, remember," he said in a low voice. "You're my wife. You might want to start acting like it. Hey, Mrs. Zephaniah! How's it going?" He greeted the middle-aged witch that had just gotten onto the lift with us.

"Alright, and you, love?"

"Great. Fantastic. This is my wife, Pansy. Pansy, Mrs. Zephaniah from the Pest Advisory Board."

"Lovely to meet you." I squeaked as I shook her hand. This was a disaster. It had not even been fifteen minutes and I was already cracking under the pressure. But could you blame me? I was a fish out of water. My blue dress turned heads, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of severe black robes. I ran through the plan once more in my head to distract myself.

Lorcan would help me get in, and I was to stay in the bathroom until everyone had left for the day while he feigned having to work overtime. Then we would break into Rutherford's office and look at Angel's file.

I had thought the plan rather clever. After the Second Wizarding War, the Ministry had quadrupled its security measures. Dozens of spells and charms had been cast over the entire building, and they had replaced regular security wizards with Aurors.

By masquerading as Lorcan's family, it would not have been too conspicuous. And by hiding in the bathrooms until everyone had gone, we technically would not be breaking into anywhere.

We had done it at just the right time, too - at the cusp of evening when people were just waiting for the hour to be up so they could go home. The place was still be busy, but would empty out quickly within the next hour.

The lift jerked to a halt. Five other officials stepped on, driving me and Lorcan to the back. I held my breath, feeling my back press up against him and his soft exhales in my hair.

The lift lurched once more, and with a loud jolt, we were thrown sideways. I struggled to keep my footing as we were carried back and forth, sideways and up. Lorcan's arm snaked around my waist, supporting me in place, the muscles under his jacket flexing at every erratic jerk. My cheeks scorched at the sensation.

I stood frozen for what felt like forever until at last, a calm female voice announced our arrival at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Lorcan began to walk. Calmly, he had reminded me. Calmly and slowly. I followed closely by his side, allowing him to hold my hand. To my relief, no one paid attention to us. It was a Friday, and they were desperately finishing the last of their tasks, their heads dipped down behind the cubicles.

The bathrooms were not too far from the lifts, and very spacious, with luxurious green marble sinks and ornate gold taps. And so, locking myself in the furthest one, I sat down on the cold seat and waited.

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Contrary to my expectations, the next hour passed surprisingly quickly, and it wasn't long before Lorcan came knocking on the door.

The office had completely emptied out. We dashed pass the desks, deeper and deeper into the furthest corner of the floor before finally stopping before a giant red door. Gold lettering loudly proclaimed that this was the office of the Head of Department.

I stood on lookout nervously while Lorcan dove about the desk, shuffling through papers and pulling open drawers. "Please hurry up," I begged, gripping the doorframe with my damp palms as I stared out at the dozens of empty desks.

More shuffling and the sound of closing drawers, until finally he picked out a thin black file. "Found it!" he exclaimed, and I fiercely shushed him. "It's like you want us to be caught or something!" But he did not hear me. His eyes scanned the file, growing wider and wider.

"Well?" I demanded impatiently.

"It's just as I said. They closed her case." He seemed finish, but his expression told me otherwise. There was an 'and', though he remained silent, and I waited.

"Susan, does 'S.C.' or 'L.M.' mean anything to you?"

I froze at the sound of my name, which suddenly sounded strange on his tongue. I wanted to say 'no', that they did not mean anything to me, but yet, I held back. There was something familiar about 'L.M.', though I could not put my finger on it. "Why?" I asked instead.

There was a long pause. Then he slammed the file shut and dashed outside, dragging me by the wrists.

"Lorcan, will you tell me what's going on? Where are we going?" I panted as I tried to keep up. He pulled me into the lift, and we shot upwards.

The journey was quicker this time, lasting for about five seconds. The lift dinged, and the doors slid open.

"Department of Mysteries," the voice announced.

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Unlike Lorcan's department, which were a mess of desks, chairs, and papers, we now looked into a cavernous hallway of black tiles and windowless walls. A lone door stood at the very end of the passageway.

"Lorcan, we're not allowed in here," I fretted, but he intertwined his fingers in mine. "Darling, we're not allowed in this building after hours at all. Might as well." With a deep breath, he started for the door.

I closed my eyes as I walked. This was completely illegal. If we got caught, we would be done for. My reputation would be tainted. No one would buy my book. How would I get the money to continue taking care of Perseus and Basilius? I would have to sell my house, the farm. Why did I ever let Lorcan talk me into this? Damn him. Careless fool. Cheeky git. Bloody-

The 'click' of the doorknob snapped me back. Behind it was yet another chamber, with six other doors. He chose one and opened it.

I felt the cold before anything else. It was like the middle of January, and the skin on my body turned to gooseflesh. There was nothing in this room but shelves and shelves of glowing orbs. "They're prophecies," explained Lorcan. "S.C. and L.M., Suzie. That's what we're looking for. But remember, don't touch them unless you want to spend the rest of your life in St. Mungo's."

I stared at the shelves. There were probably thousands of prophecies here, and I voiced my concern. Despite the eeriness of the room, he laughed. "The shelves are labelled A to Z. Look."

And so they were, like a library. Quickly, we located the shelf labelled 'S - T'. Lorcan began inspecting the head of it while I went further in. With only the light from the orbs, we scanned each one closely. "Here! It's here!" I exclaimed excitedly, and Lorcan jogged over.

When the walls have been rebuilt,
and the ashes swept away,
another will rise,
to take his place.

And when the gardens have been grown,
in a body's garden shall grow,
a sweet young sapling,
who shall cause him to fail.

But before a sapling dies,
it first has to gain life,
for its soil is sacred,
marked by love and a selfless sacrifice.

Serena Cheng to Lucius Malfoy
The Uprising and The Baby

I thought my heart had stopped, but it was banging in my chest and my breaths were growing shorter and shorter. That was why I thought 'L.M.' sounded familiar. Lucius Malfoy. Draco's father.

"Another will rise to take his place? What do you think this all means?" asked Lorcan, already scribbling it down on a spare piece of parchment. I would have commended his foresight had I not been trying to keep from hyperventilating.

"I think it means there's going to be an uprising," I croaked. "A third war... Someone's going to take Voldemort's place, and a baby - whoever it is - is destined to stop it. Like- like Harry Potter."

"Okay. So tell me, why did the note in Angel's file lead us here?" He opened the file to show me. Angel's picture smiled back at me, her details smudged in ink beside it. MISSING PERSON INQUIRY, it said in big bold words at the top, and stamped over it with red ink: CLOSED. Sure enough, tagged to the document with a small paperclip was a piece of parchment that read SHELF 19 - S.C. TO L.M.

"I know a Serena Cheng," I said. "She's a Seer. She predicted - obviously incorrectly - that Voldemort would not rise to power at all. No one's heard from her since. Word is that she's hiding out in the Scottish moors now. What is she doing giving prophecies to Lucius Malfoy?" 

"Wait, but that means this prophecy could be completely inaccurate right? I mean, most Seers are useless."

"Yes... except that Angel's pregnant," I breathed. He stared at me, his bright green eyes searching mine. "What are you saying, Suzie?"

I met his gaze with a confidence I had not felt in a long time. "I'm saying I know who took her."

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A/N:

Hey guys, I know this is a slightly longer chapter, but I didn't want to split it up too much. Hope you don't mind!
Angel and Draco are going to be apart for a while, but this is so I can have space to develop the other characters. Hannah and Susan seem to be favourites so far!

Also... what are we thinking of Lorcan x Susan? ;)

Thanks for sticking around x