The Last Exam
"Write a letter to my parents, won't you? Tell them that I passed on while slaving over a cauldron of Strengthening Solution."
"So dramatic," Deidra mused, slipping her robe over her shoulders and fastening it around her collar. She had tied her hair back today and had that determined look in her eyes that told you she was going to accomplish whatever her goal for the day was. "It won't be that bad."
"She's right, you know, you'll do perfectly fine on the exam. It's not like we have to memorize all the ingredients and directions," added Olivia, tugging on green knee-high socks. They were Christmas presents from her parents, she'd told them all, though Nyssa rectified it as a Christmas present from her mom in to herself. After they'd gotten back from break, all of the girls had immediately shown off their new items they'd received and thanked one another for the candies they'd all sent to each other. They'd had a laugh over it, the fact that all of them had sent a box of chocolate frogs to each girl, when they found out.
The Easter Holidays had passed more quickly than the winter break. Gran had sent Nyssa a large toffee egg and Mrs. Weasley a chocolate bunny that was charmed to hop around like a real one. It was so life-like that Nyssa decided not to eat it, but she came back to her dorm one day to find Holly munching down on it. Forcibly dragging Rose along, she held a mock funeral for the deceased chocolate bunny by the lake. Oddly enough, not long after she had done this, the entire student population was called to the courtyard at night to hold a memorial service for the lost lives in the battle that had taken place at Hogwarts.
Headmistress Sprout had stood in front of them all, sticking her wand to her throat and muttering a short spell to make her voice louder. "Students, Professors, ghosts, and magical creatures," she looked to the centaurs that had come up from the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid leading the way, "we come together on this second of May in the year two-thousand seventeen to commemorate the end of a wizarding war and pay respects to those loved ones that were lost." She paused to wipe at the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Professor Flitwick blew his nose loudly, while both Professor Longbottom and Creevey looked solemnly towards grounds beyond the courtyard. "I want you all to raise your wands," they all did so, "light them," again, they all did as she said, though some of the first years that still had trouble with Lumos did not manage to keep their light going, "and while you stand there together, think of those students all those years ago who stood so united and fought against the darkness. Think of those who gave their lives so that you may all be here today." And then she silent, her eyes closed, holding her wand towards the sky with a deep blue light shining from the tip.
Nyssa never cried, or so she liked to tell others. She was not a particularly whiney child. It was not necessary to be, because she got what she wanted without being irritating, most of the time. She did not cry when her pet cat died or when her daddy shouted at her for turning Lacerta's hair a nasty shade of green. But standing among the crowd of students with raised wands, she cried. It was not the sobbing type of crying which everyone would be able to hear and see, as was the case with Olivia at the time, but a silent cry. The first bit of salty water had come from her left eye, staining her cheek for a moment before being absorbed into the pores of her skin. And in that moment, Nyssa felt a terrible ache that filled her with a sorrow she had never known before. It was a heavy feeling deep inside, a sense of loss and loneliness. And it had stayed with her ever since.
She had taken all of her other exams – Charms, Transfiguration, DADA, History of Magic, Herbology, and Astronomy – so it was only Potions left now and she was not looking forward to it at all. Though she had finally managed to create a perfect Vitamix potion, her potions making skills were not improving as much as she'd have liked. According to her dorm mates, who'd all taken the Potions exam already, she was going to have to make a Strengthening potion, which was harder to make than a regular Strength potion but produced the same effect. She'd said this aloud in class one day and ended up sitting through the rest of the class listening to Professor Sawyer drone on about the small, but clear differences between the effects of the two potions.
"Personally, I hope you do horrible on your Potions exam," Eleanor admitted, coming up behind Nyssa and running a hand through her long hair. They'd agreed the night before that Eleanor would braid Nyssa's hair in the morning, after Nyssa had won a game of exploding snap and Eleanor revealed she was fantastic when it came to hairdressing. "Professor Flitwick said you made the highest grade in our year on the Charms exam. He was boasting about you. My grade on the exam was ghastly and I will feel so much better if you don't do well at something I did well in. You also got a perfect score on the History exam. Who does well on a History exam?"
"I suppose that's what they call honesty," began Olivia, "though it sounds more like jealousy, El."
"I hope you do well, Nyssa," Holly interjected, obviously misinterpreting Eleanor's wish of bad luck to Nyssa as her true intentions. She did not actually wish Nyssa to do well on her exam, though she would not deny, as she had said, that it would made her feel better about her grade on the Charms exam.
Ignoring the comment from Holly, Eleanor forced Nyssa to sit down upon her trunk, and asked, "What style would you like today, Miss Valentine? One braid? Two? I'm afraid we don't have time for tiny braids all across your head. Perhaps you'd like a special braid? I suggest the waterfall."
"I'll go with that one then," concluded Nyssa, fluffing her bangs that were getting slightly longer and now hung half-way down her eyebrow. "Do you suppose I should keep my bangs or let them grow over the summer?"
"Bangs," Deidra repeated appearing highly amused at the term.
"Yes, bangs," Nyssa pointed at the hair on her forehead.
"You mean a fringe and I think you should let it grow out, just to see what it would look like," Olivia said, watching Eleanor's fast moving hands twist strands or Nyssa's hair around one another, dropping a strand every few twists. It was going along quickly and so far looked pretty.
"No, a fringe is different. If I had a fringe, it'd be longer on one side," Nyssa explained, demonstrating how the hair on her forehead would be cut if it were a fringe by drawing her hand in a diagonal, circular motion from her left temple to her cheekbone.
"There's an owl outside," Holly screeched, pointing at the window beside Nyssa's bed. She was staring at the owl with wide eyes as if it were about to turn into a dragon. "They don't normally come up to the dorms, do they?"
Olivia shrugged and went over to the window to open it. Once she'd undone the latch and cracked the window slightly aside, the owl pelted in, and zoomed head first into Nyssa's bed sheets. It quickly hopped back up, shaking its body to help smooth out any displaced feather. Eyeing Nyssa, it walked to the edge of her bed and held out a tiny piece of parchment hanging from its beak impatiently.
Nyssa snatched the parchment from the owl's beak, for the owl looked very disgruntled. It had, perhaps, she thought, been awoken from a nice long sleep. The owl flew back out the window and Olivia closed the window, needing Deidra's assistance to push the latch back down. Nyssa unfolded the small slip of parchment, turning it around because the chicken-scratch letters on the page had been upside down. She read:
Dear Nyssa,
Artemas ate something bad. Poor fellow's sick. He's been moaning all night long. I think he misses you. I know you're busy what with your last tests of the year and all. Drop by to see him sometime.
See you soon,
Hagrid
She stood up immediately, causing Eleanor to accidentally pull down hard on the strands of hair she'd been holding. It hurt, but Nyssa ignored the pain, dashing from the room with Eleanor calling after her, "But I haven't finished your hair," and Deidra asking in a worried tone, "Is something wrong?" Yes, she thought to herself as she ran down the stairs leading up to her dorm, skipping one or two to get down faster. How could she have been so neglectful? From the time the students had returned from winter break, she'd been going less and less to visit her little fox. But Hagrid was looking after him and Artemas did like Hagrid, so she thought he'd be fine. That was just an excuse she made up, though, because she was too lazy to go see the animal herself.
On her journey down to Hagrid's hut, she bypassed many students. Most did not know what to think of the running Gryffindor girl, sharing a glance with their friends and then moving on, but some did catch a glimpse of her half-braided hair and snickered at the sight. She was huffing heavily by the time she reached the grounds and had to slow her pace to keep herself from stopping completely. Hagrid stood outside his hut, watering some gigantic snapping plant that he'd boasted about to Rose and Nyssa just last week, and Nyssa ran up to him, calling out, "Hagrid! Where is he? Is he alright?"
Hagrid turned, astonished to see the girl that was soon supposed to be taking a Potions exam – she'd talked about it so many times now that even he remembered exactly when the exam was taking place – outside his home and not up in the castle listening to last minute tips from Scorpius. The blonde-haired Malfoy was very adept at potions, just like his father, Hagrid told him. Scorpius had looked down at the mention of his father, knowing just how horrid he treated the giant man by listening to stories from the man himself. "Nyssa! What are yeh doin' here? Yeh'll be takin' yeh're exam soon."
"I'm such a bad person," Nyssa sniffed, wiping at her drippy nose with the sleeve of her robe. "Poor Artemas, to have an owner like me. Where is he Hagrid? He'll live, won't he?"
"Don' yeh worry. The little feller will be righ' as rain in a few 'ours. Yeh can hold me ter that." Hagrid assured, patting Nyssa's head gently. It could be called a gentle pat by Hagrid's standards because he was not nailing her into the ground with each downward swing of his large hand.
"Thanks for taking care of him so well, Hagrid," she mumbled, still wiping at her nose and attempting to clear away all the snot that was leaking out. At least this snot was not from a cold, like the dreadful one she'd had two weeks ago. Madam Pomfrey had given her two doses of pepper-up potion before she was able to hold her head up again without feeling dizzy. She'd even missed a History lesson, though Rose was kind enough to copy her notes to give to Nyssa.
"Don' worry 'bout it. Yeh should thank Albus. He's been stoppin' by to visit 'em some." He gave her head one last firm pat, which did knock her backwards a bit. Hagrid had grabbed her before she fell backwards. Then he sent her off, telling her to come back with the others to talk about how they did on their exams. She promised she would, and set off for the school with Hagrid yelling after her, "Good luck!"
It wasn't until she was walking down the corridor to her Potions classroom, hoping that one of her roommates would have brought her bag with her collapsible cauldron, quill, ink, and parchment in it to the room (there wasn't enough time for her to go to the dorm and get the bag), that she remembered Hagrid's words. Albus had come to visit Artemas, he'd said. She would have to thank him, as Hagrid had suggested, but later, after her History exam was over. It was good fortune for Nyssa that Eleanor had brought her bag down, run into Asher Zabini, and handed it off to him to give to Nyssa.
"Here," Asher handed the bag to her, eyeing her half-braided hair with scrutiny. Honestly, from the amount of times he'd seen her walking around with her robe slung over only one of her shoulders and the other side dragging the floor or wild hair that appeared to have not been combed; he was used to seeing her look disheveled. But that did not mean it was not a nuisance to him. If she was to be around him, he preferred she look well put together and not like a throwaway. "What happened to you? That Eleanor girl looked worried."
She grabbed the bag, scanning it quickly for a bronze cauldron, quill, ink, and parchment. It was all there, the quill was even her most recent favorite purple-feathered one, though she remembered it being lost, not packing it. "Nothing," Nyssa insisted, "I just got caught up with something is all. I'll be glad once we're through here, won't you?"
Asher shrugged, still gazing at her hair. "Couldn't you have made time to finish that?"
Nyssa paused for a moment, confused as to what he was talking about. Finish? What did she need to finish? It was when she was about to ask this that she caught his line of sight and placed a hand to her hair, feeling both sides before she realized what he meant. She remembered running off now, in the middle of the hair braiding. It seemed very foolish now that she'd done it. She understood why all those students had laughed at her as she passed by and her hands vigorously clawed at her hair in an attempt to unravel the braid.
"You two, aren't you coming in?" The radiant face of their Potions professor, Chloe Sawyer, was staring at them from around the barely open door leading into the classroom. Her hair was copper-colored and it flowed in waves to adorn her glowing, pale skin. She was very thin, so much so that you would have been able to see the outline of her skeleton had her topaz colored robes stuck to her skin. Sometimes, she walked around with the biggest frown on her face her warm, baby blue eyes swimming with unshed tears. It was hard for Nyssa not to wonder why, in the same way that she wondered about Professor Creevey's sob story, because Professor Sawyer looked so miserable at times.
It occurred to Nyssa, as she scuttled through the doorway – the mahogany-haired boy's shoes made a clacking noise behind her as they met the stone floor – that he had been waiting on her. She slid into the empty seat beside Rose, who gave a glance to her and stared at her hair one second to long; Nyssa was furiously trying to do away with the braid in her hair once again when Professor Sawyer started to speak about the exam they were all about to take.
It was an hour later, walking down a corridor shortly after leaving the classroom with Rose patting Nyssa's back comfortingly, that James ran up to the quartet of friends. He sported a wolfish expression, the skin crinkling around his eyes and his lips turning up at the corners. "Done with exams?"
"We've just finished," Scorpius told him, rubbing absentmindedly at a scab on his forearm. He'd scraped his arm against one of the corners of his four-poster bed, he explained to them, when he was arguing with Zachary Cattermole and the other boy had unintentionally shoved him rather hardly. It was hardly unintentional, Nyssa had protested, as the context behind the fight was Zachary complaining about sharing a dorm with Scorpius because his father had been a Death Eater, whatever that was, and Zachary was muggle-born, so he felt 'threatened' by Scorpius' presence. Why did it issue fear in Zachary that Scorpius' dad had been a member of this gang of Death Eaters, Nyssa had asked aloud to him. Scorpius had not responded, changing the subject to the hijinks of Albus' brother James and his own recent success on the Herbology exam.
"Come along then," James commanded, gesturing with his arms for them to walk in front of them.
Albus quirked an eyebrow, his jaw slacking, "What are you up to now?"
"A small celebration," he said mysteriously, "we're running late as it is so if you will." Again, he gestured for the four of them to walk in front of them. Though they were all rather wary of going anywhere with James out of the fear that he and his friends would play some sort of prank on them, they did as he wanted and walked in front of them down the corridor. He gave them directions from behind, calling out 'left', 'right', or 'up the stairs' occasionally. They were lead to a part of the school none of them had yet to find. It was when James stopped them in front of a wall that the wary feeling that had gradually receded the longer they walked reappeared.
Walking in front of them, James smirked at their expressions, and then turned around to face the wall. He closed his eyes at the same time that Scorpius crossed his arms over his chest and let out a large huff of air. Slowly, a dark, wooden door appeared on the wall in front of James, and all four friends let out gasps. James opened the door, turned back to the four of them and quickly ushered them inside before closing it behind himself.
The room before them was spacious, decorated with all sorts of red, gold, silver, yellow, green, and blue items. There were four tables with a variety of desserts and main dishes crammed on top of them, streamers, and banners hanging on the back wall for all four Hogwarts' houses. Miniature lions, badgers, snakes, and eagles were walking around on the floor, letting out their individual animal noises. Pictures or students smiling or waving lined the walls beneath the banners; they all had names and years written on them in swirly black letters. A bubbling purple liquid in a fountain stood at the center of it all, rays of different colored lights hitting the crystal ball hanging from the ceiling above it and bouncing all around the room. "Welcome," said James with an arm over Albus' shoulder, "to the Room of Requirement, where your wildest fantasy can materialize!"
There were several students already in the room, dancing to the sound of the latest number one wizard pop song from the states Lumos My Heart by Pixie Dust, or talking animatedly and loudly in groups. James left the four, heading off to join Louis and some other second-year boys, Lucy was holding hands with a tall Slytherin boy, Roxanne and Dominique were loading plates down with tiny cakes and sausages, Fred was flirting with a pretty Hufflepuff girl, Victoire stood with her two friends and some other older students having pictures taken, and Molly was nowhere to be found. Nyssa suspected Molly's absence from the celebration was due to the fact that it was probably not sanctioned by the school and Molly was not one to disobey rules.
By the looks of it, the four of them were the only first years at the celebration, which was only slightly awkward. It did not take long for Nyssa to coax Rose into joining her in dance when Stargazer by Unlawful Sorcerers started playing. It had a fast beat to it, the kind that made you want to move about even if you were perpetually clumsy, and therefore a poor dancer. Scorpius and Albus, however, would not budge from their spots by the back wall, staring curiously at all the pictures, no matter how persistent Nyssa was throughout the celebration.
Phoenix reached for the black, red-trimmed coat hanging in the small cupboard underneath the stairs. The cupboard was always locked and could be opened by a special key and a combination of spells that only he knew. He took extra precautions these days, checking for himself that it was indeed locked and impenetrable, for his youngest child had managed to find her way into the cupboard twice in her lifetime already. It could not happen again. He so hated the times that it did. Those were unpleasant memories, ones in which his own flesh and blood viewed him as a monster. The guilt that penetrated him looking down upon the trembling child curled up in one of her bedroom corners, screaming when he pointed his wand at her was disagreeable; no, that guilt was not something he wanted to experience once again.
The noise of apparition had him harshly slamming the door shut and casting a flurry or unspoken spells at the lock and around the edges of the door. It followed very shortly, that after he had finished placing the protective spells on the door, the very person he was guarding the contents inside from bounded through the front door. The door hit the wall hard and he knew that it must have created yet another hole. It did not matter for it could be easily fixed with a simple spell, and he did not think to reprimand the girl. He had never reprimanded her. Instead, he indulged her silliest notions. He spoiled her, his youngest child. The apparater left, choosing not to come in, for he heard the noise again.
"Daddy!" She called, running to him in a hurry. The fox she been toting dropped to the floor, landing expertly on its feet. It was much larger than it had been when he sent her off to school last September, he noticed, as the fox trotted off towards the kitchen. "I missed you so much!" She wrapped her arms around his middle, burying her face into his abdomen. In return, he gently caressed her hair, running his large hand over her head. She had grown at most an inch since he'd last seen her. "Why didn't you come to pick me up? You sent Cassia. Cassia!" With the way she repeated the name, grimacing and looking up at him with narrowed, accusing eyes, he knew that her journey home with her older sister must not have been pleasant. "First you tell me not to come home at Christmas and then – then you send Cassia! Don't you love me anymore?" She whined, stepping away from him, a movement that made Phoenix feel distant from her. It was what she wanted, he suspected.
"I love you more than my life," he said simply, amused at her response in the form of an eye roll and a huff.
"What does that even mean?"
He patted her head in a placating way, musing to himself, "You'll understand one day." That day had come for him when he married Lyra. From the moment he saw her, he had told himself he would marry her. Of course he'd heard the rumors, that her bloodline was not so pure anymore. But Lyra herself had asserted that the rumors were false and her blood was clean. He would not have cared either way, though he knew that had she admitted to the claims then he would never have married her. Even now, were she to tell him that her father was a half-breed, which he had suspected more and more over the years, then he would leave her. That was why she would not admit it. And he would not allow her to.
"Where's mom?" Nyssa questioned, peering around him as if her mother were waiting behind her father to jump out in surprise. Alas, she was not there. "Doesn't she want to see me? Does she not love me?"
"She's with your grandfather." Before Nyssa could let the question 'Why' slip from her tongue, as she had already opened her mouth to say, Phoenix cut her off, "Apparently, he's come down with a nasty bout of Magifluenzagrous. No, you can't go visit. It's highly contagious, which is why your mother is not coming home for a few days yet." He did not know if this was entirely true. Every month Lyra disappeared for a few days, giving him different reasons as to why. She was not seeing another man, this he did know, for the vow they had made on their wedding day would have broken had she. The nature of these short excursions from home was unknown to him and he did not pry. He had always got the feeling that it had something to do with those rumors about her father.
Nyssa stuck her lips out, crossed her arms, and turned away from Phoenix, yelling so loudly that all inhabitants of the house, right down to tiniest spider, would have awoke, "Babbitty! Come here now, please!"
With pop just seconds later, a small house elf appeared before her, staring up into the face of its youngest master with those large, bug-like eyes all elves shared. "Little Miss called for Babbitty?"
"Yes, I did," she responded shortly, still refusing to meet the gaze of her father. Each time he shifted so that their eyes met, she would turn further away, until she had gone round in a complete circle and resorted to staring down at the elf.
Babbitty watched this with a curious expression. He had always wondered why his Little Miss treated Master this way. Master did whatever Little Miss asked, just like Babbitty did whatever Master, Madam, or their children asked of him. One time, he had thought to himself that Master was like a house elf to Little Miss. He'd slammed an iron on his hand five times for that thought. Little Miss had asked why his hand was bandaged and he was too ashamed to tell her, so he lied that he'd burnt it while preparing dinner one night. He really did burn his hand for telling such a lie.
"Babbitty, are you listening?"
The little elf was brought back from his revere, and stared up at his Little Miss, batting his eyelids several times. "Babbitty apologizes, Little Miss, for Babbitty was lost in his thought. Please punish me. Babbitty deserves punishment for not listening."
Nyssa's lips retreated back to the normal position on her face, her eyes losing that certain glow of mirth that hung in them as she stared down at the white cloth clothed elf. It saddened her, she supposed, though she did not know why, to see Babbitty ask to be punished. She was used to it, too many times had she witnessed the very same little bow and dipping of his head that he was doing now not to be. It caused a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach though, to see the elf prostrate himself. "Punishment?" She pretended to think of something deadly, smirking down at the elf as she came to a decision. If he was not punished, Babbitty would punish himself more severely than she ever would. She knew this from experience. "You have to keep me company whenever I want until mom gets home. And, whatever I say or do, you'll take my side."
"Yes, Little Miss," the elf bowed twice, before standing up straight once again and only daring once to meet the eyes of the young girl. He had done her a great disservice, his Little Miss. It was only right that she punish him. He was an elf. Elves should not think too much. They should serve their masters. That was an elf's duty. "Was there something else Little Miss was wanting from Babbitty?"
"Yes!" She shouted, a grin replacing her smirk as the stuck a hand in the pocket of her emerald green robe, searching for that piece of parchment Rose had handed her on the train. Before she found it, she'd pulled out two chocolate frog cards and a wrapper for Kelpie Snap; it was a hard green piece of candy with some tangy liquid in the middle. "Do you think you could travel to this address?" She handed him the paper, waiting expectantly for the response of 'yes'.
Except, it was not an immediate 'yes' that she received, but a look of apprehension from the elf, "Is Master saying it is okay for Babbitty to go here?" He looked to Phoenix, who had been quietly watching the interaction between the elf and his daughter. It was when Nyssa was three that Babbitty had come to them. Month after month ticked by of Lyra leaving as she always did for a few days, it became increasingly difficult for Phoenix to make it to work on time or find someone to look after the child. His mother, of course, would always be willing to watch her, but she was getting on in age and he did not want her to be chasing after a swift three year old. The thought of hiring a nanny came to mind and left just as suddenly when he reminded himself that there were no pure-blood nannies to be found.
Sitting at the bar, speaking with his brother about his newly purchased elf over a bottle of Giant's Rum one night, the idea of having an elf of his own around his household came to him. And so he bought the elf, which Nyssa promptly named Babbitty upon first sight, because Babbitty Rabbitty and Her Cackling Stump was her favorite bedtime story at the time. He had no qualms leaving the child with the capable elf, especially knowing that the gardener he employed to upkeep the lawn would be there every day as well.
Wizards and Witches were above elves. His mother and father had told him so. He was not inclined to deny this truth, seeing as he had that the elves were quickly to fall down on bended knee at one glance from a witch or wizard. So it was unfamiliar to him, how his child treated the elf. They had a cordial, friendly relationship, or so it seemed from his perspective. The elf would never call a witch his friend. It would be a great offense to said witch. But he could not help to notice that the elf did not tremble ever so slightly around Nyssa as he did the rest of them, he did not grovel at her feet for forgiveness.
"Where do you want to send Babbitty off to?"
"Rose's house. You met her, remember?" He did. She was a Weasley, the offspring of a blood traitor and muggle-born witch. They had seemed friendly enough, her parents, and he had thought briefly that he would enjoy Nyssa becoming friends with their daughter. The thought was tainted when he learned that her mother was not a pure-blood and her father was from the biggest family of blood traitors you could find in the wizarding world.
"Why do you need to send Babbitty to her? Has something of hers gotten mixed up with yours?" He looked towards the doorway, expecting to see her luggage. Then he remembered that she had run in without any and assumed it must be outside. The door was still wide open. He closed it with a swift motion of his wand, and then muttered 'reparo' while pointing at the hole the handle had created in the wall.
"No, it's to send letters. Owl post will take too long and Rose's house doesn't have wards against house elves like my school, so it'll be faster if I send Babbitty. Can I?" She pleaded, wondering why on earth it was taking him so long to say a simple 'yes'. He was only toying with her, she thought, dragging it out for the fun of it.
He faltered, the enraging thought that his child had befriended a child of such low caliber nagging at him, before calmly asking, "Why would you send Rose Weasley letters?"
"She's my best friend so far. Haven't you been reading my letters?"
He had not been reading them himself, no, but Lyra had read them to him. She must have omitted this newfound knowledge of his intentionally, knowing quite clearly how Phoenix and his family felt about blood traitors or mingling with such filth. He tried to reassure himself that this would not have an adverse affect on Nyssa. That no matter her friend's origins, she would not be swayed to the notion that they were all equal. She was bound to encounter many half-bloods in her lifetime and most unfortunately, muggle-borns. What harm could it do to allow her this one half-blood friend? He could not risk telling her she was no longer allowed to associate with the half-blood witch. That would only make her want to more. Her defiant nature, the one that had spawned in part due to her spoiled upbringing, was not invisible to him.
It was with a forced smile that he responded coolly, "Ah, yes, Rose Weasley. I remember now. You spent the winter holidays at her house. Did you have fun? You can send her letters through Babbitty, if you like." The part about her spending the winter holidays with the Weasley family was an assumption, as Lyra had only told him that Nyssa would be staying with a friend over the holidays. No specific names were given, though he had thought it was perhaps the Malfoys that she stayed with. But from this new information and the way Lyra had avoided his pressing questions as to who it was or what family they belonged to, he knew that it was the Weasley family she had stayed with instead.
"Tons of fun," Nyssa chirped, deciding that she would share a few of her memories at Rose's home with her dad now that he had finally agreed to her request. "We went ice skating on a lake and visited Rose's mom's parents. They're muggles – they were very friendly, kept asking if I was thirsty or hungry. We visited her Uncle George's – he's a funny man – joke shop. And on Christmas day, we ate dinner with her whole family, only her muggle grandparents weren't there. I don't know why, really. But I met Teddy Lupin! I wrote about him too, remember? He's a metamorphmagus. He changed his hair to match mine and called me his sister. I even got a Christmas present from him and his grandmother. Do you want to see it?" She said all this quickly, only stopping for short intervals to breath so that Phoenix could not interrupt her.
"Later," Phoenix replied, ordering Babbitty to go collect Nyssa's luggage from outside and place it in her room. The elf would unpack it without him having to say so, so he did not. "Right now, I want to hear all about your British school." He guided her into the living room, listening to her singsong voice speak of the ceiling enchanted to look like the sky above in the dining hall, moving staircases, hidden doors, and some teacher she called Creepy Creevey.
It was a relief to have his youngest at home to tell him her modified versions of events during her school year, a short retrieve from all the meticulous planning and recruitment he'd been participating in. The time was nearly here. They'd been planning for years, long before his eldest child was born. The black red-trimmed cloak and dated papers hidden in the cupboard under the stairs were the proof. Soon, their leader would emerge. He had assured them of this. It would not be much longer. They had already waited far too long in the shadows for their chance to strike.
There would be retribution. His brother, Nigellus Oswyn Valentine would be avenged. They would bring hell upon those unsuspecting souls that had brought it down upon them.
Chapter 8! :)
So, I have a few questions, if anyone would be kind enough to answer: I'd like to know if you think it looks better to have the line when transitioning in a chapter or =ooo= as I did on this one? Is Nyssa a realistic character? Do you think Lyra's a pure-blood or has tainted blood, as the rumors say?
And, just for fun, who do you think the leader of the mysterious group is?
Please review and tell me your thoughts!