Based on the notes of Alice Fay Athenida.
Distraction.
Walk towards the rooms at the back and cause a commotion so no one notices Mr. Lestrange walking around.
Simple, isn't it?
And still, I managed to mess it up.
First things first. I stayed at my sister's house in Soho Square. The dinner with her and Mr. Lestrange was less of a dinner, and more planning of the heist of the century. They had no interest in anything of great value or part of the important collections. Instead, their focus centred in the horrible tapestry of Sophia. The one Edgar and I found wrong.
Mr. Lestrange left, but promised to come back early the next day. Which he did. Around seven. Even though the museum wouldn't open for a couple hours, and it was only a quarter mile away. He wanted to go over the plan again, to avoid complications. Noticed, after the second retelling of it, a couple of issues we might face. He seemed familiar to stealing from secure places, and I began to doubt his façade of helpful antiques dealer.
I heard how he and my sister talked about it, while eating breakfast.
"A while back, I found that simple things work best for issues like this one." He pointed at different points in the floorplan. "We only need two distractions, and then we're golden."
"Are you sure about it?" my sister asked.
"Worked with the Koh-I-Noor at the exhibition. Don't see why it wouldn't work now."
"Need to remind you: We substituted the Koh-I-Noor," my sister added. "This time we have no replica. I had no time to make one."
"Couldn't you simply appear one?"
"We're talking about Murad Joshi, he can spot a forgery with his eyes closed. If I did that, he'll know before we left the museum."
We didn't walk to the museum, or took my sister's private carriage. No. We took Mr. Lestrange's unassuming black coach. I say "unassuming", due to it looking almost identical to the public ones which filled the streets of London. No marks, signs, or anything that could identify it in a crowd. I think he had it made with that purpose in mind.
He drove, but stopped about three yards from the steps of the entrance.
We walked inside to a mainly empty building. Most patrons would arrive around mid-day. Perfect for us, less people to distract and to witness.
With Victorie, just her. Mr. Lestrange stayed on the coach. The plan stated for both of us to tour a couple of minutes and then separate and go opposite ways. Part, of course, which we did.
I went back to the red room with Greek friezes and fragments of sculptures. When the few people there stopped paying any attention to the newcomer, and focused on some exhibition, I put a small pebble next to the glass.
Small enough for no one to notice it, but large enough so it serves its purpose.
Did the same thing around the other exhibitions of that floor. Went upstairs, repeated the process.
Then, I waited for the signal. I waited. Waited next to one of the doors to the curator's area of the museum. Almost out of sight.
The signal came surprisingly soon. My sister began screaming for me on the other side of the building. Shrieking would be a better word. Her voice travelled through the museum, making everything tingle.
I whistled. All the pebbles I left around the museum rose at the same time in the air, and flew with swift speed into the glass cases of the exhibitions. They shattered into million pieces.
Everything turned to chaos.
People screamed and began to run towards the exit or out of the way. The hidden doors to the curator's area swung open, and a gargle of men ran to see what happened. No one person remained in the room, or paid attention to me.
That was the easy part of the plan. Simple. Clean. Destructive and distractive. Nice, isn't it?
However, would be out of my personality to just do what I've been asked. Nor really my cup of tea. Obey without question might be okay to some people.
When the last man came through the door and left it ajar, I took my chance. I went inside, careful, with my back to the wall and walking hastily. The door led to a corridor, a dimly lit one, with exposed brick ones on both walls.
Downstairs through a small hallway with oak doors on each side. A few of them, ajar. I looked inside and saw studies with different ancient artefacts. The doors had bronze labels on them, which named their owners, and the area of the world in which they specialised.
"Sir Murad Joshi, Ancient India, etc."
Around the office, desks and tables covered in documents and half-restored objects. An old urn with green and yellow ornamentation on top of a cloth and surrounded by jars of pigments and brushes. A bunch of books on piles and haphazardly put everywhere where they fit. On the shelf, a couple of trinkets from different parts of the world. I saw one that caught my attention, a small wooden cup with intricate designs tallied on it.
I don't know why. The cup had nothing remarkable or breath-taking about it. Pretty? Yes, but not different from the collection of relics which occupied every small portion of the office. The cup attracted, somehow, my attention.
I heard footsteps and loud voices coming from the hallway. I grabbed the cup and hid it among my clothes and then snapped my fingers.
My magic is not perfect. I dealt with good and bad days my whole life. Still, when push comes to shove, I manage to be a pretty good spellcaster. The spell I tried to perform, while complex, worked half-way into my intended objective. I vanished, but, instead of appearing in my sister's house in Soho Square, I found myself in a familiar place. Though nice and charming when I was a youngster, definitely wasn't my ideal place as a teen.
I, honest to the gods, hate Wonderland.
After a couple minutes moving through the deep forest of grass blades, I came across a common sight. A large red-capped toadstool. Large enough so, if you hollowed it out, could make an improvised home. I recognised it, though not as soon as I should have.
"One side will make you grow taller...and the other side will make you grow shorter.", I heard the voice clear in my head.
"One side of what?" I remember asking.
"Of the mushroom."
I grabbed handfuls of the thing. Filled the interior pockets of the dress, took off my socks and fill them too. Though I hadn't expected to find myself there, who knows when I'll have the chance again. Changing size without a spell, quite useful when one does not know how. It worked on objects too, if one knows to prepare it right. I knew how. The Caterpillar taught me to make a paste with it, ages ago.
A field of dead grass, small pathways made by mice, and then an open field which reminded me of the last time I found myself there.
I wonder, as I wondered then, about the path some things took after I left.
I wonder about the rabbit hole. If the room ever emptied from the sea of tears. If the animals ever got dry. If the Duchess was still alive and survived her execution. And if the Queen of Hearts still reigned on these lands. If the Looking Glass territories managed to finish their game. If the White Knight stopped talking backwards. If the queens still bicker and run. If my title still worked here. If...If...If...I wonder.
My thoughts got interrupted by encountering the house. Of course the house still stood. Though I never expected for it to be on that state of disrepair.
Boarded windows and doors. Clear signs of destruction. An old pile of wooden furniture right next to it, with dirt and spots of grass and moss growing on them. Broken glasses in a greenhouse with looked like someone had fallen on top of it, and then decided to leave everything behind.
Then, I remembered.
The destruction...the abandonment...it was me.
Last time I found myself there, I made some terrible mistakes. Though I think it's proper to remind everyone who reads this, that I was seven. Seven.
The owner of the house, whose name still appeared on the side of the mailbox, "W. Rabbit", somehow confused me with his housemaid. I still remember the name, Marianne. Anyhow. He sent me for his gloves and a fan. I went for them and got distracted...by a cookie. In another life I must've been a labrador or something. I ate it, and then grew beyond the limits of the bedchamber, destroying everything in my way.
I mean, I knew I destroyed things. Never in my whole life, expected for the entire place to be abandoned.
Walked around the place, but everything had a sour shine to it. I wonder for the rest of the world. If my actions here managed to destroy more than the house. A child, caused so much destruction as an intruder.
My worries turned blurry. No, I was wrong. My vision turned blurry and out of focus. I began hearing a ticking sound inside my head. Since I figured what was going on, I positioned myself and began walking towards the field. South, I think.
My vision cleared after a few seconds. Found myself back on Earth. Back on London. And near Soho Square, where my sister's house stood.
Pretended everything was alright. Though I could feel the mushroom inside my clothes. Walked down through the fenced park and saw something that, I imagine, drained the colour of my face.
My parents' carriage stationed in front of the door.
Going through the main entrance, of course, would be a terrible mistake. I turned into the service alley, down the stairs, and into the kitchen and servants' quarters. Then, into a series of secret passages and up until I reached one of the empty bedrooms.
Quickly, I began to empty my pockets, filling drawers with the mycelium. And it wasn't until I was half-way finish with my task, I notice the cup was missing.
Somewhere, in a forgotten path in Wonderland, I left the cup. Since I had no way of knowing how or when I'll be back there, the thing was essentially lost. Unless I could use Mr. Carroll's watch again. But that idea vanished when I heard my parents scream from downstairs.
"Victorie Guinevere Fawkes, come down here now!" my father yelled. "What on Earth have you done!?"
"Alice Fay Athenida, you too!" my mother added. "Not gonna repeat myself!"
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