The Broken Quill
Supersticiousmonkey89
I do not own Harry Potter. This story was inspired by the Broken Quill Contest by Bren at FictionAlley.
Chapter One
Hannah Abbot chewed nervously on the end of her black feathered quill, a pile of books lying beside her as she thought ponderously on the relation of the dice and snakes that inhabited her dreams to her divination homework. She wasn't even sure why she bothered with the class, if not for Ernie Macmillan, a close friend, she probably would have dropped the frauds class years ago. Merlin only knew the tosh that smacktard came up with!
A sudden blush overcame her features as Hannah realized the terrible sentiment she'd thought of an esteemed professor. Oh what would her friend's say to hear such a thing! They'd think her as bad as that frizzy-haired Gryffindor Granger, criticizing teachers and such as though she were better!
Shaking her head to clear it of all thoughts of that know-it-all, the pink-faced Hufflepuff looked cautiously around the quiet library to make certain no one had noticed her embarrassment. She smiled widely seeing only a few individuals with their noses all stuck in a book and turned reluctantly back to the homework at hand.
Snakes, she decided to start with. Snakes.
Pulling the book, The Dream Oracle by Inago Imago, towards her, she quickly flipped past the battered leather cover and towards the index, running a finger down the lists of S-words: sky, slave, sleep, sleeve, slide, slip, slug, small, smell smoke, smooth, snail, snake...
Hannah sucked in a breath of excitement as she finally found what she wanted (or rather didn't want to research), and followed her finger across the dots to the page number- 327.
Flicking her wrist in a simple, efficient manner, the pages swept past to the one she wanted, and she began to read the short passage determinedly, her eyes narrowed in concentration.
Snakes, commonly seen in the North American tribes as a symbol of life and rebirth, have a variety of different meanings. Sometimes, those who are close to death, or have recently seen death, will dream of snakes shortly before they die...
Hannah looked skeptically at the leather bound book for a moment with something akin to fear, before she quickly shook her head. What Rubbish! Representing rebirth and death! How could they stand for the two opposites, death and life, at the same time? Why, that was like saying Good and Evil could both be shown by dreaming about a leaf!
She thought, abit momentarily, about writing the sort of waffle Potter had spewed out to Professors Lockhart and then Umbridge just last year! However, Hannah liked to think herself far more well behaved than the Sneaky Slytherins, Pious Gryffindors, and the Clever Ravenclaws, and believed herself to know better than to do such things. At least, that was what she told herself as she refrained from scratching all sorts of unflattering obscenities on the pale yellow parchment beneath her quill.
The Native American's once credited Snakes as a symbol of life and rebirth...
The blue eyed Hufflepuff frowned slightly and picked up the quill, dipping it into the black ink well beside her before continuing onward in her normal, loopy script.
Dreams dealing with serpents also hold close relation to death, according to the author of The Dream Oracle, Inago Ima-
"Next time lock the door! Any Tom, Dick, and Harry could have walked in here you bloody wanker!"
Hannah felt her eyes widen and she leaned forward at the unnaturally loud voice in the usually silent room. She turned in her seat and searched out the cause of the disturbance, only to find Kevin Entwhistle, a sixth year Ravenclaw with sandy brown hair and passionate gray-green eyes, marching out of a room with an enraged Madam Prince on his heels brandishing a nasty-looking feather duster before her vulture-like figure.
The Hufflepuff smiled greedily at the nice little cluster of gossip she'd only be to happy to share with her fellow year-mates, Susan and Ernie, before turning back to the paper at hand. Only then, did she notice the broken tip of the expensive black quill lying uselessly on the parchment, and the growing ink blot slowly pooling around the tip.
Gasping at the sight, she went to save the bulk of her essay, but when she pulled the parchment so rapidly from beneath the feather's tip, a trail of black fluid swam down the remains of her text and smudged any recognizable words from legibility. She sighed irritably and silently thanked Merlin that the books hadn't fallen victim to the soiling concoction.
Just her luck she was forced to rewrite the paper for the one class she couldn't stand (not counting Potions, as no one except the Slytherin's liked it). Why couldn't it have been something more logical, like Transfiguration? Or Charms?
Hannah pouted before pulling a mystified face with bulging eyes and low drawn lips. It was fated! Fated I say! Yes, I have seen it, my inner eye foresaw this most terrible occurrence long before now! Poor dear... You poor poor thing...
She giggle slightly, ignoring the strange looks from a few nearby fifth year Ravenclaws packing up to leave, and quickly cleaned up the mess she'd made, making certain to keep the librarian from throwing her out as she'd done Entwhistle.
Finally, when order once more reigned at her current table, she reached into the large bag at her side, grabbing some more parchment and grouping for another feathered quill, only to remember that she'd forgotten to pack another in her haste to make it on time to the Herbology greenhouse.
Damn.
Blushing lightly at the foul words that unconsciously laid way in her thoughts, courtesy of Ernie no doubt, Hannah debated internally on the idea of rushing off to the common room for another quill, or questioning the few remaining people left in the room for a spare.
Instantly, the Hufflepuff recognized the flaw in rushing back towards the homey common room so late in the evening, and stood to silently look around for an individual to borrow the quill from. She approached, abit cautiously, Madam Prince, but found herself ducking a poorly aimed duster and mutterings about "Ill prepared nippers" and "can't waste time on broken quills with broken books!"
After that, she automatically looked for a Ravenclaw, in which was certain to keep a spare, only to find none.
Annoyed, Hannah scanned the remainder of people.
A Slytherin, first year by the stature, was slowly packing up, his auburn head swinging rapidly towards a second year Slytherin who stood nearby talking quietly with another student, one of the younger Hufflepuffs by the looks.
Besides them, a small group of sixth year classmates congregated near the back of the poorly-lit room, hidden away in a secluded corner. Figuring sixth years easier to communicate to, for her pride's sake, Hannah Abbot moved slowly that way, the sounds of familiar voices washing over her.
"Really, mate, as wicked as that book is, Hermione's got a point. Maybe you should show it to Dumbledore or something."
"Aw Ron, Not you too!"
"Come on mate, what could it hurt? I mean it's not like the things-"
The voice cut off as Hannah approached and noticed the wary eyes of the two boys of the golden trio, as they were called behind their backs. However, it appeared the infamous Know-It-All, Granger, was missing. Probably busying herself amongst the many aisles of books as usual. Ravenclaw material, that one.
"Abbot?" questioned the red head neutrally, his eyes glancing slightly towards his raven haired friend. "Can we help you?"
She noticed the strange looks the two shared and wondered, idly, what juicy secrets these two were revealing in now. Lucky Granger.
"I need to borrow a quill, mine broke. May I?" She managed not to stutter and looked straight into the green eyes of Boy-Who-Lived, or "chosen one" as he was now referred to. She remembered, awkwardly, their second year when she'd been one of the first to accuse the boy of being the heir of Slytherin.
She'd also been one of the first of those in their fourth year to wear the Support Cedric Diggory! badge during the Triwizard Tournament when they'd first been developed.
"I don't know," replied Potter with a slightly wry grin that he passed to his red haired friend, Weasley, with a wink. Obviously the wizarding savior remembered those events as well, among a few others. "What would I get out of it? These things are costly, you know?"
She blinked.
And then she stared.
Was he kidding? What would he get in return? Had the papers been right about him having lost his marbles? Could Potter really be off his rocker?
She blinked again and shook her head. What in Merlin's name could the Boy-Who-Lived want from her? Thinking over the possibilities, she blushed suddenly at a terribly naughty thought.
"Er... What exactly... do you... er... want?"
Potter, if the enlarging grin on his face was any indication, seemed to be having a terrible amount of fun at her expense. Why, if she didn't need that quill so badly, she'd slap him so hard...!
"Just a Chocolate Frog Card, you know, nothing to terrible."
She blinked.
And then she stared.
"A what?"
Perhaps she'd misheard him? A Chocolate Frogs card? Certainly the Chosen One didn't bother with such mundane things such as that?
"The Chocolate Frog card Puck the Hobgoblin."
Now she was certain she was hearing things! Why in Merlin's name did the Boy-Who-Lived, defender of all that was good and light, want anything to do with that card? Of course, there was still that rumor that someone in Hogwarts was obsessed with the strange creatures, but Harry Potter?
Surely not!
Right?
Hannah blinked one last time before slowly nodding her consent. It wasn't like she had much choice, the younger students were all well gone, and she had little choice left but to hand over the eccentric card in hopes to deter the otherwise eminent detention.
"Fine," she agreed, and walked back to her bag. She bent slightly and felt the blonde curls wash over her shoulder as a light breeze swept against her legs, the obvious downside of wearing skirts in a drafty castle. However, she soon found the card in question and quickly moved back to the table, handing the card to the teen and ignoring the scandalized look on the red head's face in favor of grabbing her own quill.
The calloused fingers touched her own for a brief moment, and she felt heat pool in her stomach, before she turned away. She needed to get to work on that essay! Divinations or not, it was still due the next day!
Setting her face in concentration, she opened the dark inkwell and began to hastily scribble down the report, making certain to exclude the rude thoughts suddenly rushing through mind.
Harry Potter laughed heartily as he exited the room, the red eared figure of his best friend, Ron Weasley, grinning loftily, his eyes holding a far off expression.
"I take it there's a reason you two are smiling like that?"
The smile didn't disappear as Harry greeted his bushy-haired friend, Hermione, instead, it seemed to grow larger with pleasure.
"Of course, Hermione! Were simply happy people!"
The frown of disbelief that marred the clever witch's face caused a chuckle or two to erupt from the raven haired Gryffindor before he finally explained the cause of his laughter. When he was finished, he noticed at once, the look of disbelief and obvious contempt at their actions plastered across her face.
"You didn't! Harry!" The boy in question laughed all the more. "You know once he gets on these kicks it takes weeks to get him off! He walked into the Girl's loo last time!"
"I know..." replied the Boy-Who-Lived in amusement, "And you'll probably have to be the one to break it to Lavender why her boyfriend won't look at her."
Hermione grumbled darkly and was about to retort when Ron made a soft sigh, his face and neck and ears no less red than earlier and his voice a wistful tone that made Harry laugh all the harder.
"Puck the Hobgoblin..."