author's notes:
well here I am again, writing like a machine, and updating this story as frequent as possible… hope you guys are liking it so far. Let me know of your thoughts through your REVIEWS. Love you :)
CHAPTER 4
MIDDLE NAMES AND WHATNOT
"I still don't understand your funny obsession with this cook book Helena." Alice said, as she followed my quick pace down to the kitchen as the day was nearing to an end.
"I don't think you understand the value of this piece of work Alice. This is the cook book that holds the secret recipe!" I exclaimed, and turned around for one second to record her reaction, laughed at her bored face and turned around to continue on my track.
"The apple tart."
"Yup!" I popped the 'p' in the end and skipped the rest of the way.
"Yeah, I get it. For a sweet tooth like you this is a big deal, but why make it your own?" Alice asked for the millionth time that day. She tickled the pair for me as I was too busy reading the recipe I so longed to cook that day, knowing that it would be a cathartic relief for me after dealing with too many Slytherin arrogance for a day. It just appeared I could not get that thought delivered to my best friend's head for her to understand. "I mean, normal person would just walk into the kitchen and ask for the same apple tart for the house elves to cook. And they would bring it to you in less than three minutes too. You save time, energy and your taste buds will be satisfied nonetheless." She tried reasoning.
"Alice… it is not the same. All in all, I finally came to a realisation where I would never make you understand how I feel about baking, however you still volunteered to help me out for today, thus I am thankful. Now, lets find Dinky to find the ingredients we need." I sighed and settled the book on the table, after cleaning the hard wooden surface with the sleeve of my black robes of course.
The recipe was not too broad and complicated, and I did not expect it to be too. Baking tarts and pies all had the same basic principle behind. The filling and the pastry. I had produced so many delicious tarts in the past, as I may have hinted it before, however, this specific tart was made in traditional medieval methods and there were some ingredients in there masterly hidden that I could not recollect to make a matching batch.
My very first obsession with baking begun after I got selected into the house of Hufflepuff. Admittedly, the Sorting Hat struggled to put me into the said house, for he was tossing between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Then the hat saw something in my head, yet did not find it necessary to clarify. He said that I will seek it when the time comes, and it will make me belong to my house more than others. Well the prophetic hat guessed it right, as usual. The feast had begun and for the first time in my life, I saw a wide range of food collected as all in one table. There were all courses of foods cooked in various methods. Roasts, fries, bakes... Amongst all jumbles of food, I saw a very humble, gleaming piece of pie, and reached forward to get a slice of. Within all the large piles, the poor dessert lay forgotten and I personally felt sorry, for it was begging to be eaten. I took a bite of the pie, and it was then I realised, and experienced the true magic the house Hufflepuff held within. The flavour was like no other pies I had tasted before. It did not have the cliche cinnamon and apple fragrance the tradition apple pies beheld. No… this one had at least ten different herbs that elevated the fragrance of the apple, as it created a unique symphony with the more dominant cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger flavours.
This very book held captive that secret recipe I tried to replicate over the years and it was like finding the meaning of life for me to find out how the pie was made. And all I needed to know was one simple herb that was used in the pastry.
The recipe read; to make short paest for tarte, take fyne floure and cursey of fayre water and a dysche of swete butter and a lyttel safroun, and the yolckes of two egges and make it thynne and as tender as ye maye.
I called out the ingredients I need to Alice and the sweet girl rushed the essentials to me with the help of beloved house elves. I quickly kneaded the dough and left it to cool and set.
For to make tartys in applis, tak gode applys and figys and spycis (Galyngale, Canelle, Gyngere) and reysons and perys and wan they are wel ybrayed colourd wyth safroun wel and do yt in a cofyn and do yt forth to bake wel.
My ultimate mood was beyond happy. All my gall and blueness were lifted by a piece of magic freshly baked out of the oven. Helga Hufflepuff was a true witch. She did not need the wit of Ravenclaw, bravery of Gryffindor nor needed the ambition of Slytherin to be one of the great four. She just cooked and smiled, and brought twinkles into others eyes. Thus she became immortal through her recipes where students attending Hogwarts even today, appreciate her undying and unique piece of magic. I was one of the few original witches to practice the magic she brought about. That was why I was destined to be in her house.
Alice, though she complained a lot, decided to enjoy the apple tart I had created and even admitted that all the troubles she had to go through along my side, was worth it in the end. I would like to think that I finally got my thoughts about cooking into her thick head.
She let me leave with the rest of the tart as I walked around the castle and decided to hang around the Black Lake, enjoy one of the many beautiful views of Scotland landscape as I ate my precious treat. It was chilli outside, a grey tinted in the sky, yet remained pleasant nonetheless. I took another bite of my pie, and elevated with pride as the familiar taste exploded in my mouth, celebrated by my tastebuds. I closed my eyes and allowed nostalgia to take over me. I felt my lips tighten to a small grin of satisfaction, before I felt slight movement near me. I opened my eyes and readied my wand. Still remaining seated though, despite my ultimate alertness.
It was Potter of course, the talented rat responsible of destroying my calm Aura with his unpleasant presence. I sighed and decided to look into the lake, viewing red tinted tentacles of the Giant Squid, still contemplating whether I should burn him with my flaming words or ignore him until he is bored of me and decides to leave. None had worked in my favour for Potter had other plans.
"You seem to remain on ground this time to think." he almost sounded civil. I shrugged and looked at the tree I had climbed earlier that week when I claimed Potter to be a bully.
"I would not be able to climb a tree without destroying this." I motioned the tart in my hand, where Potter's eyes lingered for a minute. I heard him gulp and then look ahead once again.
"So you would have climbed the tree if your hands were free."
"It helps me clear my head better. Plus there wouldn't be annoying brats to distract me from my train of thought." I took another bite of my tart, praying it would calm my angst.
"Fair enough…" was all Potter said, and remained quiet for a while. After a few minutes of silence, I dared to take a glance at him, only to see his gaze lingering in my masterpiece again. I sighed in annoyance. Was he judging me?
"It is baked to perfection, why are you eyeing it like that?"
"That's Helga Hufflepuff's famous Apple Tart, how did you baked it?"
"How do you know it was baked by me?" I asked in retort, attempting to mask my surprise that he actually knew it was Helga's secret recipe.
"House elves do the decorations differently. I would know, it is my favourite dessert." He said it ever so nonchalantly, I could not help but believe what he had said. So instead of replying him, I just offered him a slice, which he took without complaint.
"You could have asked for a slice you know. I wouldn't have sliced you." I smiled at him, as he hungrily took his first bite.
"This is pretty good!" He exclaimed with his mouth full, then smiled, "And for the record, you are not known for your none-slicing skills."
"That is probably because you deserve it." I retorted and ate another bite. "And thanks, I followed the recipe." Whoops!
"You have the recipe?"
"Yeah." I replied sheepishly. Seeing I did not want to talk about it, or maybe he did not want to destroy this civil atmosphere of truce he created, he did not ask much about it. He just shrugged it away and continued to eat his slice of tart and watch the sunset.
"Who would name their child Severus for Merlin's sake?" He laughed after a while, that got me looking at him as though he needed mental aid.
"You are so strange Potter… And as for your question, I don't know. They must be traumatised in their youth to name the boy Severus." Thinking of the war hero Snape, I replied, causing Potter to laugh even more.
"You got that right! My dad is a war hero after all…"
I had to think there for a second. I knew Potter had a big brother James Sirius Potter, and his second sibling was a girl… meaning… "YOUR PARENTS NAMED YOU SEVERUS!" I bellowed a laugh and knocked back on the grass so fast, I almost dropped the tart. I balanced the dessert on my knees perfectly, yet continued to laugh.
"Har… har…" Potter glared in my direction, yet his eyes still carried the shimmer of humour.
I collected myself, feeling slightly sorry for the guy, then with soft giggles said, "so… Albus Severus Potter huh?"
"Yeah, yeah. I know terrible set of names, but at least they mean something. What about you?"
"Helga Marianne Heston." I shrugged, "as normal and Muggle as it can get I suppose." I said crossly and continued eating my tart. I looked at Potter's empty hands, sighed and cut a huge slice for him and shoved it in his hand rather ungracefully.
"You don't like Muggles or something?" he peered me curiously, his green eyes not carrying the ounce of arrogance, and reminding me of the apologetic forest green I frankly did not hate.
"No, Muggles are fine, when they accept you the way you are though you are of magic blood." I glared into the water. This was not the topic I wanted to talk with Potter, he would use it against me.
"Glaring doesn't suit you, you know that? You are prettier when you smile. And I mean truly smile like when you are talking to Alice, or eating something sweet that you seem to enjoy." Potter stated, only for me to look at him speechlessly. "I know what you are about to say. You were going to bring the incident happened in Transfiguration. You should know, you are too pretty to be called a troll. It was insincere and terrible of me."
"Gee, Potter, you are making me question the ingredients I put into the tart, but it doesn't seem to have the same effect on me. Are you sure you did not consume a spoonful of Amortentia from Potions before you came and talk to me?" I asked, forcing a laugh.
"Well you know, I did promise you I would make you fall in love with me." he retorted in wit.
I suddenly got up, being uncomfortable with this unexpected civility between Potter and I. I forced a smile on my face, trying to assure Potter that I was unfazed by his declaration of his previous promise. "Alright then, Potter, I should get inside. It has gotten chilli you see. Umm… I will see you tomorrow… I think. Y-yeah, bye!" I darted off so fast, I only realised I left the entire tart back at the lake side, next to Potter, only when I made it to the Hufflepuff common rooms.
Hogwarts being the catastrophic discipline mine during the weekdays morph into relaxed and calm wave of hope during the weekends. The breakfast deemed to be served at a later hour, and people do tend to wake up around nine to ten. After the non-compulsory study hour, people shift off to their related hobbies, such as Quidditch practice, hanging out with friends, or (for Ravenclaw's case) study in the library and finish off the homework allocated to be due in the next few weeks or days. In my case, however, I am always an early riser, and I do not tend to waste any of my beautiful day into something as useless and time consuming as sleep, thus I tour around the castle, enjoy the the empty grounds, make myself to the breakfast table and ease myself into reading the Daily Prophet Quidditch section.
Harpies continue on making their way to championship in the league… I took a long sip from my morning tea, enjoying the breakfast consisting of freshly fried bacons, several hot scones and some cottage cheese. I munched into my scone sweetened with the aid of blackberry jam and sweetened butter as I recognise the loud footsteps of a large crowd making their way to the Great Hall for breakfast themselves. So much for the peace and quiet I seemed to be enjoying.
"Where is the shrew?" people tended to ask on the doorway, then moved timidly inside, without making eye contact with me.
"You shouldn't listen to them." I voice, unfamiliar in my record, came behind me, causing me to drop the scone ungraciously into my plate to turn around. Red hair, blue eyes, smiling face, every clue leading me to one name.
"You must be Fred Weasley." I stated out without thinking of tact.
"No that is my cousin. I am Hugo Weasley." the boy stated the obvious and then took the seat next to me. "I am basically the youngest in the family. You see that guy there, with slightly darkest tinge of skin colour? Yeah, that is Fred. The one with the olive skin and curly dark hair? Yes, the chick that looks nothing like him, well that is his sister Roxanne… She is third year Gryffindor so I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't know her. Well there is my sister, fourth year, Rose. You must know her, everyone thinks she is a major nerd. Even though I never said it out loud, I also think she is a nerd. There is James the seventh year, and Lily, same year as I, second. Then there is Louis, third year also. You must know his sister Dom she is in year five, along with Fred of course."
"Hugo, it is really nice the meet your and your clan… but why are you here?"
"You looked like you needed a mate, so I thought I might as well accompany you." Hugo squared his shoulders, an act turned out to disturb me to no end.
"So Potter didn't put you up to this?" I eyed him, the poor boy seemed so clueless. He shrugged and then settled on his seat, helping himself with some breakfast.
"I don't talk to Albus that much. No one does, except for Lily of course. He is very introvert when it comes to discussions." Hah, Albus Severus Potter being an introvert. FUNNY! "So no one really talks to him. It doesn't help that he is friends with Malfoy and all. It is not like we are against it, it is just we are not too warm about it. You get what I mean?" Hugo Weasley carelessly stuck a whole piece of crunchy bacon in his mouth with impressive appetite and started chewing, his large blue eyes still lingering on me.
"Sure… Hey Hugo, did you even know me before today?"
"Yeah, you are the kind Hufflepuff friend of Al's that baked us that nice tart. I thought I might as well say thank you and keep you company."
Right before I was about to accuse Albus Potter with lacking brain work, a lovely snow owl perched on my table, and stuck out his foot. There was a small note attached to it. I gingerly took the note from the bird's claw and fed the animal with a small piece of bacon before I opened the parchment to read the untidy script I could not place the author of. Once I read the few set of sentences sprawled across the parchment, however I knew who was the sender.
Thanks for the pie… It was delicious. Hope you didn't mind me sharing it with my family. Beware of Hugo, he is over attached and over weird. Talk about chess with him, maybe even sit for a game, he is good. When can I expect more amazing Hufflepuff baking from you? - the boy with the weird parents naming him weird names.
I could not hold it in anymore. I had to laugh. It was just too funny, absurd and random! Just a day ago, I was neck to neck with this guy, and now I was at a stage where I began to have civil talks, desserts and message exchanges with him? He was good and I needed to do something about his small bet with himself. I was not ready to lose to a guy who accused me of troll attributes (no matter how many times he had apologised, I was not going to get over it). I was determined. If Potter wanted to play dirty, I was ready to retaliate back.
"Whoever sent you that note, must be clever enough to get that reaction from you." Hugo commented.
"He is clever alright… but not as clever." I whispered and glared into distance. If there was one thing to help me at that moment, it was Helga's secret recipe book.
I found myself near the lake at the end of the day, this time climbed up on my tree. The once vivid thoughts of distress began to morph into a comfortable haziness masked with the lovely scent of the maple, and the moist soil beneath its roots. I sighed and began to read my recipe book. The true leather bound book felt heavy against my stomach as I leaned back on the trunk and rested my head against the tree. The yellowed pages were fragile and smelt musky, an aroma I decided that I liked. The handwritten letters began fading, despite the various protection charms the book upheld within, yet knowing that the book has carried the finger prints of my one and only idol brought a smile to my face.
I rested the book against my face, closed my eyes and took the old scent into my lungs, allowing the presence of Helga calm me over again. In the midst of silence, the winds whirled and the tree danced in celebration. Scotland landscape looked a tad bit gloomy compared to the morning. The sky was whiter, and the wind was a little cruel with its chill. The Black Lake made its name proud for it appeared black against the almost monochromatic background, still making the landscape look magical. The autumn showed itself with its true aura, though the natural reds and the oranges were missing due to the pines stretching over the landscape. The only clue of the season was provided by the maple tree that was displaying its ultimate act of calm hospitality to me.
"If you were an animagus, I would think you would be a swallow." I looked down to see Potter, involuntarily reminding myself of the event after Transfiguration occurred a week ago.
"Why you say that?" I smiled, not minding the nickname whatsoever.
"For a person who is so comfortably perched on a tree trunk, I am surprised you ask me that question." Potter smiled back at me, his eyes squinted due to the opaque sky reflecting from my direction.
"If you are here to woo me, Potter, I would suggest you to leave for what you are seeking is merely the impossible." I retorted without looking at him, though aware of the smile still stretched on his face. "However if you are here to claim me the most amazing cook Hogwarts has ever seen since Helga Hufflepuff, you may remain on your ground."
"What if I am here to reenact the civil conversation you and I had the other day?" Another good question came from Potter's direction, yet this time I was not prepared.
"Why would you want that?"
"You are a good company to keep, it turns out."
"You love pranking me, Potter, I am everything to you but a good company." I stated bluntly, fighting back with all my weapons to bring the old Potter back into surface. I did not like this new, equable and rather nice Potter that was unknown to me. I did not know how to react around this Potter.
A snort came from the bottom of the tree, and once again, that week the tree shook violently.
"Potter, you are terrible at climbing, I hope you know that!"
"Oh, I know!" Potter's short-breathed voice came behind me. "Possibly due to my fear of heights."
I snorted at his confession. "You are one of the great Quidditch players in the school."
"Did Helena Marianne Heston just paid me a compliment?" Potter smiled in my direction. His eyes mirrored the beautiful opaque sky majestically. They were still slightly tensed around the edges, changing the almond shape that he carried rather large against his skinny face, appear piercing and captivating. His porcelain skin and unruly black hair harmonised well with the monochromatic background, thought his elegant lips stretched across his face, carrying a gentle smile, contrasted well in their orangish red tint. It was almost as though Albus Potter was made to rule the autumn around the Hogwarts. I shook my head, and reminded myself that I was not to think of him that way, ever again.
"Did Albus Severus Potter just tried to make fun of my middle name?" I retorted, smiling at him in full mockery.
"I should not have told you my middle name. You will never drop that." He smiled, but did not bully me back with all the topics he could burn me with.
"What happened to you?" I found myself blurting out.
"What?" Confusion etched on his face.
"Why are you not bullying me? Why aren't we bickering? Why are we civil with each other?"
"Are you asking me to bully you?"
"No, I just want to know the cause of your change. A person cannot possibly change into an absolutely opposite being overnight!"
"You are looking far too ahead of yourself, if you are seeking the reason of my change." Albus whispered in my ear, and for a person who suffered the fear of heights, he bravely jumped off the trunk and gracefully landed on the ground, walking into the castle, ruling the environment around him with his overall being. And all I seemed I could be capable of doing was to watch this new and mysterious boy from distance, milking the strength from the tree to clarify the not so foggy thoughts in my head once again.
well that is that! hope you like that… I think I am beginning to like this slight change of electricity between Helena and Albus. Let me know of your thoughts. REVIEW please! Next update consists of a terrible terrible rumour beginning to circulate around the castle. Will that rumour damage the newly developing civility and friendliness between the two protagonists?