Chapter Ten - Being Hufflepuff
Hufflepuff was, Gabrielle had been told, a great House on equal footing with the others. It was, carefully emphasized, not the last resort for the docile, the unmotivated, the 'ne-erdowell'. Gabrielle had thought the last was a kind of sea creature, so perhaps she had misheard. Professor Sprout, the head of the very equal house, said that it was the combination of strengths, not a single one, that placed students here. She described Hufflepuff as a dense stand of saplings, each helping the other grow quickly to reach 'the sun of knowledge and the sky of opportunity'.
Gabrielle blamed Fleur, and the years of being compared to her for the thoughts that followed. The first was that if everyone had the same total of strength of character, but one person split it three ways, then would not that person always be the lesser to someone? The second thought was that, though Sprout had probably meant well, a dense stand of saplings became a forest of thin, weak, spindly trees.
But that was just a poor reaction on Gabrielle's part, very likely due to being tired after the day traipsing around London and not because of inherent flaws in her character. She certainly did not feel like spindly tree needing the support of other branches just to stay upright, and her fellow Hufflepuff were not any different from her. They were much like the other students at the other school, in fact. And, while a few did not seem to possess mighty oak potential, they were at least likely to manage healthy shrub.
There was a belief that all Hufflepuff knew each other and were friends. This was not the case. What was true was that all Hufflepuff were connected to one another by friends of friends. The house was a huge collection of overlapping cliques, which, Gabrielle noted proudly, was a French word. Cliques formed naturally, of course, but in Hufflepuff things were... helped along.
Gabrielle was, for example, assigned to the Transfer Student League. It was new and very small, consisting of herself, Suki-chan, a shy girl named Marigold, and a fifth-year girl named Marikesh. Marikesh, who preferred Mari, came from Burkino Faso originally. She had actually transferred to Hogwarts in her second year, but the league could not just be one person.
Marigold was a wan girl with messy, almost shaggy hair the color of, and Gabrielle was sure of this, dried feverfew. Marigold wore round glasses with lenses that, unfortunately, made it look like her eyes were bulging. Suki-chan called her Saruchi, which was okay because she could not be Mari as well, but Gabrielle noticed that Suki-chan was decidedly evasive when it came to what the diminutive meant. The lack of explanation did not appear to bother, eh, Saruchi, who was also not exactly a proper transfer student. She had been in Ravenclaw her first two years. The only reason she gave for the change of house was a cryptic 'there's none so blind as those who will not see'.
In the awkward moment after that pronouncement, Mari declared that she would be the 'senior advisor'. The she gave the rest of the League hugs and left to join her study group, the Scottish Society of the Silver Shin. Or was it Chin? Suki-chan said that she wanted to be the 'club president', and that Saruchi could be vice-president. Gabrielle, who was about to point out that they were a League and not a club, although there probably was not much difference with only four members, was then told that she was the junior member and that they would take care of her. This did not sit well with Gabrielle, but Sukiya looked very pleased and Saruchi only shrugged. Gabrielle was sure it just because she was the smallest. She made a mental note to set Fred on fire.
The League was only the first knot in the Hufflepuff net. Vice-President Saruchi was put into the Congress of Iron Wills study group, while Gabrielle and Her Majesty Suki-chan were both in the ludicrously named Glorious Tea Collective of May Twenty-Third study group. It was quickly pointed out that those already in the Glorious Tea Collective of May Twenty-Third usually referred to the it as 'TC23'. Gabrielle hoped that taking tea was not an absolute requirement. Study groups included students of all years, so that every first year was at most three knots away from even the seventh years.
v - v - v - v - v
The crest for Hufflepuff has a badger on it, and so, in homage to that, there are round tunnels leading to all the dormitories. Like a badger sett, except larger and with all the runs very straight. Ornate, round wooden doors closed off the entrances. These were deemed cute, or kawaii, by Empress Shimagina, but Gabrielle found them to be a little impractical. After all, a round door that was two meters tall was also, of course, two meters wide. With the handle for the door in the center, usually shaped like a nut or leaf, well, there was a lot of walking around a door instead of just though one. And, every threshold was liable to trip the sleepy. Just as an example, and it had only been the once.
Still, the doors were quite nice, even cute - especially the ones with the carved badger acting out scenes of woodland humor, which was mostly getting hit on the head. These reminded Gabrielle a little of the doors to Delacour Manor, though the carved knights of those never did anything amusing. Or anything at all, really. Sauveuret was still learning that the handle shaped like an acorn was not a champion example for eating. He checked daily.
At one end of the hallways and round doors was the Hufflepuff common room, barrel-vaulted in three sections to, Gabrielle supposed, continue the round and tunnel motif to a larger area. The high, curved ceiling of each section showed a patch of magically mirrored sky, like a miniature version of the ceiling of the Great Hall. The bit of sky was edged with treetops, so it was not very much sky, and the view was nearly the same between vaulted sections. Nearly, because while one ceiling showed the scene as it was, the others, in turn, showed the same scene as it was ten or so minutes earlier than its neighbor. That was amazing magic, and meant that if one saw a funny sort of bird, for example, fly past in the 'soon' ceiling, then one only had to wait patiently to see it again in the 'very soon' section. The final identification would perhaps need the 'now' view. The magic was, admittedly, a bit underused for the patch of sky it showed.
The walls of the common room were covered with tapestries of yellow with embroidered black stitching. Badgers featured prominently, though several had portraits of the founder of the house, Helga Hufflepuff. Those included the crest that Gabrielle recognized from the cup, which poor mangled Poisseux had found and which resulted in many things that fueled her nightmares. There were interesting plants in pots along each wall, best, Gabrielle was told, avoided. Roses surrounded a memorial.
Between the replica skies, the plants, and the relentless, but cheery, yellow, it was easy to forget that the Hufflepuff dorms were below ground. The temperature, which Gabrielle found to be somewhat chilly, was a reminder. Her favorite spot in the common room was any of the sofas sitting directly in front of the dozen hearths spaced along opposing walls. There was always a fire crackling in the hearths, not particularly large in her opinion, but at least enough for her toes to regain sensation. Gabrielle was tempted to add her expertise to the fires, but since none of the others seemed to think that the icebox they lived in was uncomfortable, she did not. Queen Shimagina did not even wear shoes in the common room most of the time. Gabrielle supposed that she would get used to the chill. Eventually.
At the other end of the doors and hallways were the dormitories; witches to the left, wizards to the right. Professor Sprout, in her introduction, had said to be sure to check in case the castle swapped them around. Gabrielle was not certain how that could be done though, since the two round doors looked identical to her. The room she shared with five other girls was quite small considering all the magical space that was possible. Three sets of bunk beds helped, and Gabrielle supposed she would get used to it.
Gabrielle's new roommates were Catherine, Kathleen, Katherine, Empress Shimagina, and Malachite. The Cats, as the first three had quickly dubbed themselves, all preferred to be called Cath, or, of course, Kath. Gabrielle felt certain that the novelty would wear of that game. Even wizards would tire of, "Cath? Sorry, I meant Kath. No, the other Kath." Suki-chan went by that; Malachite wanted to be called Mal. Gabrielle wanted to call her scary.
Catherine and Kathleen were the same height, but Catherine had auburn hair and an accent that made Gabrielle think of hot chocolate. Kathleen's hair was nearly as dark as Her Exaltedness Suki-chan's, but with soft curls. Katherine was a brunette, and she was taller than the other Cats. Malachite was taller still, and twice as wide. Gabrielle thought of her as Mount Malachite, but not out loud because Mal looked as if she could break her in two. Of course Gabrielle had the bunk over the powerfully-built girl.
v - v - v - v - v
This was Hogwarts, a school of magic, so odd or peculiar things abounded. Like the staircases, which were not very useful in actually getting around the castle, in Gabrielle's opinion. She could not quite time the changes yet, and often ended up stuck on one that moved. But now Gabrielle stared, shocked at her Asian friend. It took effort to close her mouth after what she heard that made her jaw drop.
"What, eh, what do you mean zat you do not have a wand?" asked Gabrielle. Perhaps she had misheard. She sat with Suki-chan on a sofa in front of the low fire, her feet stretched toward the flames.
"It is weird, I am sorry, I know it would be," moaned Sukiya. "I told father it is weird."
"But, eh, zat is, how -"
"We do not use wands in Japan, and father insist I do not forget real magic," explained Sukiya. "I am sorry."
"No, I am sorry," apologized Gabrielle. "It was, eh, rude, I should have asked." Although, came a second thought, why? It was not as if she knew any other witches that did not… Nona. The thought made her duck her head, but only a little since it was very unlikely the ladle would appear in the Hufflepuff common room.
The truth was that Gabrielle had wanted to show off a little. The first day of classes had been full of surprises. The biggest surprise was the appearance of Herr Korbel. He had taught the Martial Arts at, at her other school, but now he was here at Hogwarts teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. Gabrielle wondered if he had been expelled too. Unjustly expelled. Professor Korbel had been very enthusiastic on the topic of curses. The Hufflepuffs shared the class with the Gryffindors, and their apparent relish left many of her housemates 'puckered'. Gabrielle did not inquire as to its meaning - the looks of dread were sufficient. She had wanted to show Suki-chan her shield spell, to impress and to practice, since it seemed like it would be needed. Now she was only concerned.
"How will you do ze coursework? Ze practicals?" asked Gabrielle. Taking care of Suki-chan was going to be difficult.
"I think magic is same. No problem!" Sukiya held up two fingers like a 'V'. "I wish I could take Arithmancy instead of Defense. I can not write as fast as wand."
Gabrielle wished that she could have taken Arithmancy too. Or even Ancient Runes, like Suki-chan. That was another strange circumstance. It seemed like everyone had chosen electives, something that had never been mentioned in any of the correspondence. While Divination was a given for a Seer, of course, Gabrielle would not have chosen Care of Magical Creatures, even if might be an easy Outstanding because Professor Hagrid liked her. What, Gabrielle had to wonder, use would be outside of school? There were extra sessions in both of her non-elected electives also, which seemed to be unique to her schedule. Gabrielle needed to ask Professor Sprout about that. If those were intended to be remedial sessions then she would be very annoyed.
"I hoped to practice a shield spell by - Saruchi! What, eh, what are you doing?"
The second-in-line for the throne was, very strangely, even for a witch, squatting on the back of the sofa with her hands between her feet. She dropped down onto the cushion next to Sukiya, then sat normally.
"You know a shield spell?" asked Saruchi, since the other two occupants of the sofa were still dumbfounded at the mode of arrival. "Professor Korbel is planning to teach one in all the years. That's what I heard at the Congress of Iron Wills."
Gabrielle had been about to ask whether Saruchi had lost her senses, but stopped at the mention of the study group. They had met already? Had she missed the first session of the Glorious Tea Collective of May Twenty-Third? All of her resolutions - were they broken so soon? Disappointment, which took the mental image of Maman sighing, loomed.
No, resolved Gabrielle, if the Glorious - TC23 did not meet again after dinner, then she would spend the night in the library catching up. She had something to look up anyway. After, of course, doing the readings. And then some!
"I think it is Seer's trance," said Sukiya. She was waving her hand in front of Gabrielle's face. "Or manifestation of… of… monkey… god."
"Oh I should like to see that," deadpanned Saruchi. "It could be Rigor Texteriem. Has she handled yarn infected with Niggle eggs?"
"Eh, what? No, I was just, eh, zinking of revising."
"Ehh? Already?" groaned Suki-chan.
"I think you left it a bit late as it is," opined Saruchi.
v - v - v - v - v
Gabrielle sat in the library. She was not alone, because it was difficult to be alone in Hufflepuff. Her assigned House was, she felt, the only place in the world where a person could say, seriously, "Let's go be alone together." Portia, barely an acquaintance, had looked so miserable that Gabrielle could not say no, but later wished, a bit, that she had. That was because Portia was part of the Coven of Darkest Shadows, and she had assumed that Gabrielle was also. And that, Gabrielle surmised, was simply because of her black clothes, which was a terrible way to judge a person. She probably should have mentioned that she was not actually a member of the Coven.
Not that Portia was anything but simply there. She and Gabrielle were, in essence, alone together. Portia spent the first hour sketching a disturbingly detailed drawing of a curvy stiletto with lots of dripping blood. Then, she pulled out a paperback book and, well, cheered herself up.
Gabrielle preferred the library at… her former school. The Hogwarts library only had heavy tables to work at instead of the more private study carrels. Which, a second thought immediately declared, was a very good thing. It was possible that the Hogwarts library was just as large, if the extra high shelves made up for the more numerous airy galleries of the other. The height of these shelves was especially a problem, though, since the ladders on their little rails would scoot away instead of, well, being a ladder. Or it would be a problem if Gabrielle knew where to look. She had looked for "Browning Ma Deuce" in the long drawer of cards that was the "B" section of the catalogue, and also for "Ma Deuce, Browning" in the even longer "M" drawer. She even tried "Deuce, Browning". That, eh, pretty much exhausted all avenues of research. Browsing the shelves, the lower halves at least, had been no help either. This was a puzzle, Gabrielle realized; one that required logic. And, that happened to be a talent of hers. One of many.
The phrase "Browning Ma Deuce" did not sound like a spell or incantation to Gabrielle, or it was incomplete. And, eh, garbled. It sounded odd because it sort of sounded like a mixture of languages. The very sort of mixture that George might try! So it might have been meant to read "Browning my two". Two what, though, wondered Gabrielle. Slices of bread? Toast was not secret or embarrassing, and did not fit Ginny's cryptic message.
"My two" "My 2" "Ma Two" Gabrielle wrote variations in the margins of her meager class notes - it -was- only the first day. As luck would have it, the quill ran out of ink part way through an attempt. Gabrielle looked at what she had written after refreshing the ink: M2. This was it, she was certain of it! Because she could See, even if this was not like the other Seeing she had done. During the pell-mell car ride to London to just miss the train there had been a lot of motorways labeled with an "M" and a number. She could not recall if she had seen a sign for the M2, but this much was clear: "Browning Ma Deuce" was a location; the city or town of Browning on the M2.
This was progress, finally, but not much help. Gabrielle had already searched for a references to Browning, and did not recall any that mentioned the M2. Most were related to the preparation of unusual creatures for, Gabrielle supposed, eating, by something if not someone. She would have to search the "M" drawer again, for "M2" and "motorway, M2". Gabrielle stood.
"Do you need some help?" asked Portia with a nod toward the towering shelves.
"Eh, what?" Gabrielle had nearly forgotten that the girl was there.
"I mean, you're looking for something, right? I thought I might be able to help."
"Oh, eh, zank you, but I am, eh, not certain of what I am looking for. Yet," said Gabrielle. That sounded a little dim, so she added, "Zat is, I do not know what book to find."
"You'll have to leave it for another time, then. The library is closing soon; can't you smell them?"
Gabrielle was about to answer, but a second thought wondered if she had misheard or had missed something entirely. "Eh… smell zem?"
"Pince's minions. Oh! You might not know. They say she summoned them a couple of years ago to track down some books a student left with. From the Restricted section!" explained Portia. She seemed less like a Darkest Shadow now than a… Hufflepuff. Gabrielle wondered which study group she was in.
The air had taken on a hint of dorm seven, which a careful sniff revealed. From unfortunate and repeated exposure, Gabrielle could tell that it was not Poot Powder. There was an underlying essence of… sepulchre to the smell. It was something that seemed familiar, somehow.
"It didn't work though, I guess, since I've heard that they can't actually leave the library," continued Portia. "Hey, are you alright?"
Gabrielle still felt angry as she watched the sickly, sulphurous flames die out along the lines and runes drawn on the floor, but she also felt a bloom of satisfaction begin. The books would be returned! She began giving the pair of short gray humanoids, things halfway between house-elf and gargoyle, with stubby wings, instructions.
"Free us." Gabrielle heard the low rumble of the voices over her own. "Free us," a voice repeated.
"Eh, what?" asked Gabrielle, while simultaneously declaring the titles and descriptions of the purloined books.
"Our task… impossible. Forfeit. But there is no gate, no path. You hear - free us."
"I hear many zings," reported Gabrielle. It was not pleasant. The voices that asked for freedom, those same voices accepting the task, her voice adding instructions and restrictions, her voice saying what she hears, and even Portia asking it she was okay again. Gabrielle suddenly knew that Portia was really Mary Marloon, who had put four books back onto the shelves in the wrong places - a repeat offender who could not be trusted.
"Free us."
"Go away!" blurted Gabrielle. There was too much going on, at least too much going on in her head. A second thought wondered that speaking two things at the same time would be so upsetting.
"Unng… No, did not work. You… the stone - open the path."
Not, realized a third thought, at the same time. One had to be the Past. "I, eh, have no idea of what - Ah!" Gabrielle exclaimed. There was a sharp jolt of energy that surged through her. Not painful as much as surprising. And, focusing - the only sound came from Portia now. Portia, and the weird, disturbing grey creatures that bowed on one on knee before her that were making a weird, disturbing grinding noise. Gabrielle startled, and jumped back. Into her chair, or, rather, over her chair, landing on her back. Gabrielle knew that she probably looked pretty silly, but crawling beneath the table was an effective escape.
"No horseplay!" hissed Madame Pince, the head librarian at Hogwarts.
"No ma'am!" squeaked Portia. Gabrielle gathered herself and stood up with what she hoped was grace.
"I, eh, am sorry. I fell," apologized Gabrielle. No apology was actually merited, but contrition was usually a safe play. She smiled too, as if in relief that she was unhurt.
The attempt was wasted. Madame Pince was looking past Gabrielle at the now silent minions. "What in Merlin's name is this about?" wondered Pince half to herself.
This time, Gabrielle knew, an apology, even perfunctory, was dangerous. It would imply that she had done something, something that had led to whatever the librarian might be upset about. "I, eh, zink zey, eh, made to help me up. But, you see, I am fine."
Gabrielle had thought that that was a good excuse for the creatures' behavior, especially since it made her own role seem incidental. Which, a second thought, eh, seconded, was completely true. Unfortunately, Pince appeared annoyed at the postulated scenario. "The library is closing. Off you go," dismissed the head librarian with a glare. It was not completely clear to whom she spoke, but everything with legs retreated.
v - v - v - v - v
"C'mon, it'll be loads of fun!"
Gabrielle smiled carefully, since she was counting to herself. Portia, having learned that Gabrielle was not in the coven, was now actively recruiting. By, for the most part, repeating variations of the last. Which did not make much sense to Gabrielle, since the ability to have fun would surely disqualify one from being a 'Darkest Shadow'. At least Portia had not mentioned the black clothing.
The problem was the shifting staircases in the main hall. Gabrielle had had trouble all day with them, not quite getting to the top or bottom before they would begin to ponderously change their orientation. She had not been the only student misdirected, so she had assumed that it was only a matter of timing her arrival correctly. Now, however, she was becoming aware of a certain level of intent in the movement of the marble steps. Gabrielle suspected that she could run down the stairs quickly enough to make the next landing, which would also get her away from the repetitive Portia, except, well, that would be very rude.
"It's, it's almost curfew, I think," announced Portia. "Maybe, um, we should try running?"
"Eh, what?" Gabrielle wondered for a moment if she had been thinking out loud. That could be very embarrassing.
"Just down the stairs, mind. We can stop if you get tired."
"I, eh, zink I will be fine," smiled Gabrielle. The months of iron footwear and oversized flame-proof leathers would be a help there.
And Gabrielle was fine, reaching the intended landing with a final leap. This would definitely help progress, since the wrong landing meant navigating long halls and finding the right set of stairs. Most were one-way, and not helpful. Gabrielle picked herself up, there had been a minor tumble on the landing, and turned to Portia.
Who was not there. Nor was she on a different landing. "Portia?"
"I'm okay," quavered a voice from below. Way below. "Apart from my ankle, that is. Ankles, really."
"Oh mon Dieu! You fell?" blurted Gabrielle before her brain caught up.
"Oh wow - I've got an extra elbow on my arm now."
Shock, thought Gabrielle. It helped for a bit. "I'll be right down!" she called. But, eh, not quite as quickly as Portia had managed.
"I'm sure my knee didn't bend this way before…"
v - v - v - v - v
By the end of the first week, Gabrielle was certain that special circumstances had been arranged for her. She was also fairly certain that these special circumstances were the way her very non-regulation uniform was being addressed. She could not earn house-points, or at least any awarded points never made it into Hufflepuff's giant hourglass. Neither could she lose her house points. The Head Craig had tried, when he spotted her using her broom instead of the annoying stairs.
To make up for being unable to constantly harass her for something completely out of her control, Gabrielle was assigned permanent weekly detentions. Those were the extra sessions with Professor Hagrid and Professor Trelawney. Gabrielle did not mind, much, the ones with Professor Hagrid. He was rather like Professor Elevagre, except for much less bloodshed and grousing. Hagrid believed all his charges dearly loved him, while Professor Elevagre always spoke as if the creatures he tended were out to get him. Gabrielle thought he just needed more patience. She helped Professor Hagrid with a second-year class on Tuesdays; 'Puffs and Claws', as he put it. There was also a session in the late afternoon on Wednesday. This was reserved for chores - cleaning, mostly, but also tending to any creatures injured during the week by an idiot.
Chores done were all Professor Trelawney wanted so far. One session was second period Wednesday, with a first year class of Gryffindors and Slytherins. Gabrielle had to make tea and distribute teacups, then mop up afterward. The second of the detentions was after dinner on Friday. How dirty, wondered Gabrielle, could the crystal balls be as they had not even been used yet this term? She polished them anyway.
Not being awarded house-points was, eh, logical if they were all going to be taken away. And, thought Gabrielle, the reverse made sense as well. If she could not get house-points, then what was the, eh, point of taking them? It was the detentions that were unfair. Four a week, for what was essentially one incident? One prolonged, interminable, possibly irreversible incident, yes, but it was not as if the jinx was contagious. This, felt Gabrielle, was very unjust.
Or, suggested a second thought, unbalanced. If one is being punished, then there should be a reason for such, no? Oh mon Dieu, moaned a third thought, no. But, it was a thought that kept coming back to Gabrielle as the week ended. Four detentions a week would build up a lot of credit on one side of the ledger, and now she had something she needed to spend that on.
Not the broom flights, though, regardless of the opinion of the Head Boy. Those were practically by order of Madame Pomfrey, because the Hogwarts infirmary was getting crowded as the week went on. Gabrielle had taken to sprinting up or down the last third of the flight of whichever stairs she was on as a way to reach the desired landing. After a mostly successful day of it, the stairs of the main hall tried to match her burst of speed. This led to full staircases becoming rather empty and the empty infirmary becoming rather full of the unlucky fallen and the even unluckier fallen-onto. It also led an annoyed Madame Pomfrey to demand that Gabrielle not use the main staircases, which meant that Gabrielle had to use her broom. That was simple logic.
No, what Gabrielle needed to use some of the accumulated pre-punishment for was a quick foray into the Restricted section of the library. There was a second catalogue there, smaller, of course, than the one she had exhaustively searched, but probably full of entries for Browning and M2 and perhaps even Ma Deuce. The needed information had to be restricted, thought Gabrielle, since those who had heard of the M2 motorway claimed to have never heard of a place called Browning.
Of course, first there was a session of the TC23, and then a Convocation of the Coven of Darkest Shadows. That just meant a meeting, and only because Portia kept asking.
v - v - v - v - v
"The Browning Ma Deuce, or Browning M2, is a muggle heavy machine gun. First developed in 1918, its been manufactured and used ever since. It weighs about six stone."
"Ha, I knew she would jump at the chance to ask George," said Ginny with satisfaction. In front of her was a carefully nursed glass of hard cider.
"Wrong, Ginny," corrected Hermione. "I haven't seen an owl from Gigi."
"Oh. Then did you meet up with Fred somewhere yourself? I know you haven't been to the Burrow."
"Well, I have been busy. Anyway - did you know? - muggles have libraries too. It took less than a quarter of an hour to find the information."
"Huh, even in Swindon? I guess anything is possible," shrugged Ginny after Hermione's nod. "What's a machine gun?"
"It's a gun that can fire bullets very quickly. Up to three hundred a minute. Ron only had the shell - the bullets fly out of the shells so fast they can't be seen. And they weigh nearly half a pound apiece," described Hermione.
"Er, right. These bullets…"
"A sharpened lump of heavy metal that fits like a cork into the shell," added Hermione. "It's a thing used to kill things in a war."
"And it can kill wizards too?" asked Ginny in disbelief.
"Yes, eventually, if one got close enough and the witch or wizard didn't have their wand. The machine gun is a large, heavy, and unwieldy weapon."
"So, what then?"
"I think that it wasn't exactly an M2 proper, and that the bit we need to have a look at is the bullet," concluded Hermione. "Now, what about you? What news do you have?"
"The tryout went really well. I would have scored twice with a little support from the other side of the pitch. Nothing definite yet, mind, but I haven't been given the push either," revealed Ginny.
"Erm, right, sounds smashing, though I was wondering more about any Ministry information or rumors you might have come across," clarified Hermione.
"Oh, yeah. Well there's a new faction trying to break the current coalition in the Ministry. It's fronted by the Goyle family, or what's left of them, of all things. Er, people. The goblin-spotters are in a lather trying to find the one called Breaker, or, if you are in the other translation camp, Botherer. He's supposed to be leading the goblin rebellion. Guaranteed win in the election at their big meeting at the end of the season for the one that does. There's a plaque and a bit of gold apparently."
"There's a goblin rebellion?"
"There's one every year, in their minds at least," shrugged Ginny.
"Ah."
"Luna is working on a piece about the 'mecha' being smuggled in by Japanese Imperialist wizards. Those will overrun the Ministry and force all tables to be less than two feet high," added Ginny.
"Come again?"
"To be honest, I'm hoping the quidditch thing works out."
"What is a 'mecha'? Related to snorkacks, I suppose, or heliotrophes?"
"Well, according to Luna's sources, which may just be the voices in her head, they are mechanical, erm, men made for battles," explained Ginny, her eyes rolling. "Except…"
"Go on," urged Hermione, taking a very small sip of her gin and tonic. If the pub was busy and if the owner could have noticed through the magic, he might have dropped a hint.
"Except, well, there is a Japanese wizard in London. He's filed a petition with the Ministry against the twins for, er, aggravated cultural appropriation."
There was a lull in the conversation as a recap of the week's football matches was shown on the glowing screens hung from the walls. While not a patch on quidditch for speed or thrill, football did have dead fit young men wearing quite a bit less than full quidditch kit.
"So," began Ginny as the screens went back to middle-aged muggles discussing contracts. "What about you and your dig?"
"It's not a dig, not a proper one by any spell," sighed Hermione. "But the old well is there. It's just that…"
"Go on," urged Ginny. She would have taken a drink from the glass in front of her, but recaps make one thirsty.
"Well, I mean it wasn't like she was going to put her name on it, right?"
"It isn't Ravenclaw's?"
"It -is- on the leyline, and it is in the area mentioned in the old story," added Hermione quickly. "It's just that without more evidence I don't know if I'm not finding something because it is hidden or because it was never there at all!"
This outburst of frustration required a bit more gin and tonic to recover from. "I did manage to extract an old cup and a kettle from the well. There are no markings on either, but the kettle looks like someone pounded a spike into the little face."
"Ha! That sounds like something Gigi would do. She was always having trouble getting the - Oy, that's it! Gigi might be able to tell you something about that stuff," said Ginny excitedly. "That's what she was doing for that German bloke in Albania."
"Hmm. But wouldn't something have to be Ravenclaw's personal possession for that to work?"
"I don't know, but if it's posh stuff or maybe fills the cauldron of another story, then that would be evidence, right?"
v - v - v - v - v
Gabrielle slipped silently from one aisle of towering shelves to another, like a cloud's shadow cast by the full moon. Like a shadow, thought Gabrielle, but perhaps not a Darkest Shadow. The Convocation had been fun, but mostly because someone had switched one of the candles used to "Shrive the Four Corners of the Sacred Circle" for one of the twins' novelty candles; one of their "Merlin's Menagerie", not the Manhood sort. That had made The Baleful upset since the ceremony was completely ruined. Gabrielle was not actually sure what shriving was, or where the corners on a circle were anyway. The other Darkest Shadows did not seem to mind the loss of the ritual, though they were hard to read since the ceremonial dress for the Convocation was a black cloak with a hood that hid the face. Gabrielle supposed it was to look mysterious, or something. There were nine in the coven; or only nine had shown up.
It was not as if Gabrielle minded being there. Portia was nice enough, when she was not drawing pictures of knives, and there had been cake to go with the tea. The coven, though, seemed a bit silly to Gabrielle. And, she really did not need more black clothes. Or a silly name - The Baleful. Gabrielle could guess, however, that she had not heard the last of the Darkest Shadows. One needed a 'darkness of the soul' to join, or at least the willingness to pretend, since these were probably mostly Hufflepuffs. Gabrielle could See, which was viewed quite favorably even though she was very certain that that did not make her soul dark. Portia then conflated the Seeing with the behavior of the gray creatures, and announced that Gabrielle could command Madame Pince's demonic minions. Gabrielle was herself sure that that was not true since she had told them to go away and they had not. Anyway, the minions were probably just a subspecies or hybrid of gargoyles, smaller and a lot more mobile.
While Gabrielle had tried to clarify the library situation, Portia then declared that Gabrielle would be known as the Mistress of the Mirk. That was a surprise - where had Portia heard that? It was a question Gabrielle put to Portia as soon as the final ritual, "The Closing of the Third Chaos Gate" - what about the first two? - was finished. The answer left Gabrielle wondering who this Mags was, and why the name sounded familiar.
Gabrielle slipped silently from one aisle of towering shelves to another, like a cloud's shadow cast by the full moon. She was not invisible; she knew this. The charmed apron would make her unnoticed, which was nearly the same thing. Well, apart from the kneazle-cross brushing her legs every time she paused, and Madame Pince's minions who were trailing a step behind her.
The animal Gabrielle recognized as Mrs. Norris, the familiar of Mr. Filch. He was the Hogwarts caretaker, which reminded a second thought of the goblin-appointed caretaker of the Winterhall Estate and his suspicious behavior. Peculiar was, it seemed, a requirement for the job. Although Filch was more nasty than odd, a slovenly wreck of a wizard. At least that was the general consensus she had heard. Gabrielle had also heard that if a student was out of bounds or breaking curfew, even with important, very important, extenuating circumstances, it would be Mrs. Norris finding the student first followed closely by the shuffling and malevolent Filch.
Except the cat's behavior was neither accusatory nor gloating. If this was one of the Pommejoues' kneazle hybrids, then its behavior would mean that it was trying to wheedle more food. Mrs. Norris -was- far scrawnier than Madame Pommejoues' charges. Not that Gabrielle was going to ask the animal. The charm on the apron would break if she spoke, and, in Gabrielle's experience, trying to talk with kneazle-crosses only led to trouble. Even if she did have a surplus of served detentions built up, it was not worth wasting them asking a cat if it was hungry. Especially since this was simple enough to address. Gabrielle searched her handbag for the wrapped pasties and broke one in half. She then fished out lumps that looked like they could be meat - it was best to eat pasties without looking too closely. Mrs. Norris sniffed the lumps a little suspiciously at first, but then set to eating. Gabrielle pushed the remaining, gutted halves of the pasty into the… hands? talons? of Pince's surprised minions. She moved away quickly, in case her sensory humours acted up. The weird creatures stood as if frozen, looking at the emptied crusts. Gabrielle wondered briefly if she should somehow indicate that it was food, but decided instead to press her advantage.
The library was closed, and had been for a while now. Gabrielle had been wearing the apron for longer than that; she would have to apologize to Suki-chan for abandoning their private study session. It seemed that magic here was more than a little different from Japan's real magic, and essays were going to be a problem as well. Moving in the dim light of the stars shining through the high windows was not difficult - there were shelves to guide one's steps - but the Restricted section was darker still, even during the day. Gabrielle drew her wand and conjured a small gout of yellow flame on the end of it, which she immediately extinguished as memories of burning meadows, burning trees, and burning barns flooded her mind. These images transfigured themselves into an image of burning books in the event her second thought's warning was too subtle. She would have to make do with a plain light spell. "Lumos," she sighed.
The glow from the tip of her blond wand was not particularly bright, quite steady, and in no way interesting. Or, of course, dangerous. Gabrielle sighed again. Without her usual little flame it felt lonelier; she wished she had brought Sauveuret. She felt for Pepi-Z and wondered if the little bobble was perhaps ill. He had not signaled for either Mrs. Norris or the minions. She made her way to the entrance of the Restricted section.
There Gabrielle stopped. There would be a ward or jinx, yes? That would be the normal way to keep out unauthorized students. However, no one she had casually, very casually, broached the topic of the Restricted section with had mentioned any. They had all heard of someone who knew someone who had snuck in, but the lack of specifics on who and how, not that Gabrielle could ask too much about those without raising suspicions, left her dubious.
Logically, Gabrielle reasoned, it did not matter. The detentions had been served, and would continue anyway for the foreseeable future. Nothing would change if there was any magic. Unless it hurt, in which case she would find out whether Madame Pomfrey having a special bed set aside for her was true or just a mean joke.
There was no magical trap, just like there was no mention of Browning. Or the M2, or Ma Deuce, or anything useful at all! Gabrielle closed the drawer full of things beginning with 'D' a little harder than she should have, or, at least, harder than the drawer felt was necessary, since it shot back open hitting her in the stomach. The furniture's surprise retribution sent Gabrielle stumbling backwards, falling hard onto her back as her foot slid out from beneath her. She lay there, contemplating how useless the effort had been and how much getting hit in the stomach hurt. Until, that is, Pepi-Z's tugging confirmed what she could already sense: something was moving in the dark upper reaches of the shelves. A large something that sounded vaguely leathery. It was not Mrs. Norris, Gabrielle was certain of that. She sat up to begin her escape, and then noticed the banana peel, which had caused her slip. Had Saruchi been in here earlier? Bananas were her favorite snack, but Gabrielle could not believe the vice-president would just leave the used peel on the floor.
The something moving unseen above moved again, and had to be closer because Gabrielle could feel the air move as it did. She pocketed the peel, because that was the sort of thing that happened when she wore the apron, and scrambled to her feet. There was a sound very much like "Ook [1]" from above, which again made it plain that it was not the cat. The sound was not a snarl or growl, which was good, but it was also not a bird-like noise so whatever had moved the air was large. For reasons that logical thinking would discern later, Gabrielle felt confident that she would be safe once she left the Restricted area. So she began to run, as politely as she could, of course, because even in the ordinary sections the books could take offense. "Ook. [2]"
A scurry, came a second thought, might have been a wiser choice. Nearly as fast as a polite run, but still within the broad spectrum that was walking. This was not a particularly useful thought to have after being struck from behind in the back of the head, but neither was the one Gabrielle had where she wished that she had used the conjured flame so she could take revenge on the book that had done the deed. A little singing on the spine would teach it to tolerate politely rapid movement. She had nearly made it out of the Restricted section at the time, so the assault was definitely a childish, petulant act on the book's part. The tome deserved some sort of punishment, but it was once again clear that setting things on fire would not be a good solution. No, thought Gabrielle, books belong on shelves, not in hearths. Or burned-over meadows. They just might not have much say as to which shelf, though, especially if they are going to hurl themselves at innocent students. Or, admitted a second thought, a student not actually causing any harm at the time. Also, added a third thought, had she not picked up the banana peel? Someone - else's- banana peel?
Gabrielle read the title of the book to decide where in the -regular- section of the library it would be most deservedly unhappy. The book, "Field Notes from the Great Muggle War of Little Consequence", by Perry Trachett, seemed misfiled already by being in the Restricted section. The title suggested the muggle fiction category, which was not 'fiction by muggles', so Gabrielle determined to put it among the potion research shelves, perhaps the one full of dusty books on the many uses of bile.
The book appeared to have damaged itself during the attack, possibly cracking its binding. Gabrielle was not heartbroken. That did create an obvious place to open it to, so Gabrielle did as she walked -quietly- toward the potion books. There was a rough sketch of a lumpy wall with some sort of mechanical thing at the top. Helmet wearing muggles - soldiers - were standing around it. Since the sketch was just done in faded ink and was not moving at all, it was not very interesting. Gabrielle did not have high hopes for the story itself. The caption under the drawing though… It read, "Testing the latest from the diabolical Mr Browning."
This discovery was not as surprising to Gabrielle as one might think. She was a witch intent on a thing, so it would be the natural order of the world for that thing to make its way to her. There was magic after all. Perhaps it was that the mysterious village of Browning was named for this man. His birthplace, perhaps, or where he had died. But where to find out more, that was the question.
1Sorry, that was mine.
2By the way, catch.