on large, public gatherings lately. We have had disturbances. I think you know the kind I mean." There was less cheer in Arne's voice now.
"Death Eaters?" Draco asked, softly.
Arne shook his head. "Not so much. I think these are merely people who favour He Who Must Not Be Named' s ideas. I don' t think your Voldemort has set his sights on our small community as yet. That is a good thing, I think."
"A very good thing. I can' t believe his influence has spread that far." Hermione found herself angry that Arne's birthplace had also been similarly corrupted by Voldemort's taint.
"You' ll find, young Miss, that there is a little bit of evil villain in all of us. It is the weaker of us, however, who may be led astray. The impetus perhaps needs to be planted first."
"That's what you think Voldemort is? An evil seed?" Hermione asked.
"He is an 'idea' . A bad one, at that. These are not good days, to be sure. Many in my community are expecting war, in one form or another, maybe in one year, maybe in ten years. So I make my money and spend it as I like, while I can," he said, smiling slightly. "Rest assured that there are more of us stronger than weak, more of us who are not so easily misled."
Draco was looking at him oddly, as if the man's insight was cause for suspicion rather than trust. "How do you know so much about Fida Mia? You're about a minute older than us."
Arne tapped against Draco's skin and looked pleased when the 'feathers' seemed to shrink away in response, almost like the leaves of a mimosa plant. "It' s a sideline business. My partner and I own a small Charms Consultancy in Copenhagen. Family venture, you see. Fida Mia has Danish origins and I've simply taken the time to make a study of it."
"How is the spell normally cured?" Hermione inquired.
"For most cases, I fashion a charm that takes the place of the spell's host. The host being a human soul. The magic that was laid down during the needling process become attached to the charm and the spell comes off, along with the tattoo. It' s not easy magic and it's not entirely Light magic either, given that blood was shed in the original process. Blood will have to be shed in the remedy."
"I see," Hermione said, looking a bit wide-eyed at this information.
"You may put your shirt back on," Arne told Draco. Hermione almost felt a pang of regret that the magnificent tattoo had to be covered up again.
"What' s the verdict, then?" Draco asked, after he had pulled his shirt back into place.
Arne's response was mixed. "Can I have a word in private with you, for a moment?" He gave Hermione an apologetic look. "I hope you don't mind."
Hermione response was to mind, but she reluctantly nodded. "By all means. He' s paying for this."
Chapter Thirty-Three
"My hearing must be going, because I thought you just said you couldn't help us."
They had gone into the kitchen and shut the door behind them. There was some sort of pie baking in the oven. Draco looked at the floor for a moment, seemingly deep in thought. Wherever his mind was, it wasn't a calm place.
Then he looked up at Arne, who had to resist the urge to reach for his wand. Borgin hadn't been exaggerating when he said the boy was a little high strung.
"You heard correctly," Arne responded. "There's no cure for what the two of you have. It's permanent."
"Everyone knows it to be permanent!" Draco said, impatiently. And then, after glancing at the closed door, he added more softly, "But the more well-informed of us know that there are two types of permanent. There's the type you can remedy with money and dark magic, and there's the type only death can fix."
"Suffice to say that this is the second type of permanent," Arne deadpanned.
"That's rubbish," Draco spat.
"It's permanent because that lovely young lady waiting so anxiously in the sitting room fancies herself in love with you. The spell is sealed. There is no undoing it now."
Draco stepped back as if he'd been smacked in the face. He looked horrified, and then, he looked bloody furious.
"That girl does not love me."
"And you know this because you've asked her? Or because she's told you?" Arne asked, gently.
"How do you know it's love? How does anyone know?" Draco was pacing up and down