Severus Snape was not having a good evening.
No; that would be the understatement of the year. Severus Snape was having a terrible evening. Damn Albus Dumbledore for forcing him to work as a spy! A double agent against the Dark Lord, no less!
After following the directions of two Slytherin girls to the site of the supposed troll attack, he and Minerva had discovered that the troll had been killed – by one of his own Slytherins, no less. There was something very strange about the entire scene. There were two very distinct human-shaped cracks in the walls, indicating that someone had been smashed by the troll. Ordinarily, he would have expected whatever student that had been hit by a twelve-foot-tall fully-grown mountain troll to be reduced to a bloody smear; but the cracks were completely clean of blood. The Gryffindor Flynn had used a Cushioning Charm on her own robes, which would have prevented most of the damage caused by a large club smashing into her. That much was in line with his understanding of defensive use of magic.
But the Slytherin Flynn had done no such thing. In fact, the back of her robes were thoroughly tattered and torn, with many bits of broken tile lodged into the fabric. Yet her skin was merely scratched, without even the smallest amount of blood spilled. The only injury that she had sustained, according to Poppy Pomfrey, were minute fractures in her ribs and a tiny tear in her lungs. Injuries that had mostly healed by the time they had arrived at the Hospital Wing. Thinking that her initial diagnostic charms had somehow been botched, she had cast them again, just to double check.
No. There was no mistake to be found. Their readings were accurate. The injuries were mostly healed; there were no external injuries to Miss Flynn; and to top it all off, Miss Flynn apparently weighed an astounding three hundred pounds. An anomaly that could be ascribed to the fact that her bones were not exactly bones when scanned by Poppy.
Rather, they were detected as metal, but the charm could not identify what metal it was exactly. It left Poppy quite stumped as to how someone's bones could be made out of an unknown metal. Self-transfiguration, while not unheard of, was an incredibly dangerous discipline that could potentially kill someone. She then thought that perhaps someone – likely another witch or wizard – had magically switched her bones with metal; but this idea was completely unsound, as Orianna's 'bones' had repaired themselves within minutes of arriving at the hospital wing. If they had been magically switched, the body would not be capable of mending even so much as the slightest of cracks on them.
Poppy almost had the thought of requesting the other two Flynn sisters to come for a healers' examination when Orianna raised her hand to stop her. She then asked if Poppy, as a medical practitioner (or a healer, as the wizarding world understood her role to be), had an equivalent to a patient confidentiality agreement. Naturally, the woman said yes and promptly sent Severus outside.
It was a setback for his role as spy and informant for Albus, of course, as Poppy took her Healer's Oath very seriously. So seriously, in fact, that even Albus could not even get the smallest bits of information out of her if it did not concern him directly. Not that either Severus nor Albus could not extract the required information in other ways, of course. Being a master of the Mind Arts did have its uses.
And so Severus stood outside of Albus' office. He closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts of what he had extracted from Orianna's mind while he walked her back to the Slytherin dormitories.
"Madam Pomfrey. Do I have your oath that nothing that I speak will be revealed to anyone else?" Orianna asked. Her tone was icy, and her eyes were fixed sharply on both Severus and Poppy as though assessing whether or not they were threats.
"Of course. What do you think I am, some half-wit two-Sickle healer from Knockturn Alley?" Poppy scoffed indignantly. "I take my patients' concerns about their confidentiality with absolute care. My Healer's Oath prevents me from divulging any private information,"
Orianna then frowned, deep in thought. Eventually, she sighed and cradled her head. "I see no way out of this. If I and both of my sisters are students at Hogwarts for the next six years, it is likely that we will need your help with injuries at some point or another. Madam Pomfrey, I request – no, I demand that you give me a promise that nothing – absolutely nothing will be spoken to anyone else from what I am about to tell you,"
Poppy glanced over to Severus and nodded. "Very well. Severus, if you would wait outside the hospital wing until we are finished,"
The Slytherin girl watched as her head of house swept out of the hospital wing, a disapproving scowl on his face. The Hogwarts medi-witch waved her wand around her, casting several privacy wards and conjuring an opaque white screen around them. "Now. On my vows as a sworn Healer of Wizarding Britain, I, Poppy Charlotte Pomfrey, declare that any information confided to myself by one Orianna Flynn while in my care shall be treated as confidential. I shall not divulge anything to anyone, except when it is medically necessary to save her life or limb. This I swear upon my life and magic; so as I say, so mote it be,"
Holding up her wand, Poppy incanted, "Lumos," When the wand lit up brightly, she then declared, "Nox,"
"A magical vow. Daphne said that they were the most binding form of magical agreement, and the most dangerous if given falsely," Orianna said, nodding in appreciation. "Very well. Madam Pomfrey, how much are you aware of advances in non-magical sciences?"
She hesitated. "Not very much, I am afraid. There's little need for a healer to read about non-magical ways of curing illnesses when potions and wandwork can deal with nearly every affliction,"
"I see. What if I were to tell you that my mother never gave birth to me, or any of my sisters?"
"Then I would say that you were adopted. But in the magical world, adopting a single child is already difficult enough, to say nothing of adopting triplets,"
"And what if I were to say that you were wrong? That I – and my sisters – are genetically descended from my mother? That is to say, of her bloodline?"
"But that is impossible! A woman is required to give birth to a child of her own blood,"
"Not in the non-magical world. At least, not for myself and my sisters. You see, our mother is what is known as a geneticist. One of the best in the muggle world, if I am to believe what my other mother says about her. We were born in machines – great tubes of glass and metal, to be exact. Artificial wombs,"
Poppy was clearly having a hard time wrapping her head around everything that was said. A child that was born of machine, and not of man; and to two women, and not a woman and a man. She plopped herself down on a nearby chair and snapped her fingers. A cup of steaming hot tea immediately appeared in her hands, which she drank quickly.
"That still does not explain your...metal bones,"
"I am getting there. You see, my mother was – is – ambitious. To simply create a child from herself and my other mother would be trivial for her. No, she said that at the time, she thought it was a wasteful use of resources. She searched for greatness. Perfection. To put it simply, she modified us before we were even in the artificial wombs. We were...crafted...to be stronger, faster and more durable than normal humans,"
"Fascinating. And do you know how this is done?"
"No. My mother has never taught me this. She insisted that if anyone that did not need to know knew about any of it, it could be very dangerous for us,"
Poppy's eyes grew wide as saucers as she pondered the possibilities."Merlin. The Aurors would have a field day if they knew,"
"The magical law enforcement officers? Yes, they would indeed. Now consider that the same is true for those who are against the law. You do understand why this information must remain hidden, yes?"
"Of course!" Poppy exclaimed, horrified by the thought.
"Very well. I would greatly appreciate it if you were to...hide our origins from the other students and staff," Orianna said, biting on her lips. "If it would make things easier for you in the future, I did find out from my sister that potions seem to be far less sensitive on us. After Zoe took a Pimple Jinx to the face from a prank gone wrong, we had to use four doses of the potion to actually begin seeing any difference,"
"Noted. I suppose the same goes for you and your other sister? Aveline, wasn't it?"
"Presumably so, yes,"
"Well, thank you for notifying me about your condition and that of your sisters, Miss Flynn. Now, ordinarily I would say that after surviving a troll's club to the ribs, a person ought to remain in bed for at least a week with an intensive course of Skele-Gro and Blood Replenishing Potions, but my scans have indicated that you are mostly healed. I will still prescribe you to a course of Nutrient Potions, just in case," Poppy said.
"Please state your business," the gargoyle in front of Albus' office droned, breaking Severus out of his reverie. He scowled, thinking about how much he should reveal to Albus. Merlin knows what that man would do if he knew every little secret, let alone something this large. And as that thought passed through his mind, an involuntary shiver passed down his spine. What would the Dark Lord do if he knew about this?
He dearly wished he had just sent the stupid girl to the hospital wing alone. Some secrets were best left undiscovered.
News of the Halloween troll incident quickly travelled through the Hogwarts grapevine. At first, it was rumoured that one of the three Flynn sisters had killed a fully-grown mountain troll with the aid of several other first-years. Then it changed to just a few of the first years and a teacher. By the end of a fortnight, the rumours had changed to Orianna being the one that killed the troll, though that was the extent of their truthfulness. If scuttlebutt in the Gryffindor dorms were to be believed, Orianna was a half-giant who had single-handedly wrestled the troll to submission before tossing it off the top of the Astronomy tower; one particular Hufflepuff even insisted that Orianna had shoved the troll's face into a toilet and kept it there until it drowned.
Her two sisters' accounts of the truth were completely ignored in favour of the greatly embellished versions of events, much to the dour Flynn's chagrin. Which therefore resulted in the current state of events, where most students would give Orianna a wide berth and mutter things about her wrestling dragons, trolls, giants and other outlandish things.
"I wish they would simply stop staring and whispering," snarled Orianna as she speared a chunk of bacon on her fork. "Can I not eat without people looking?"
"Hmmm...let me think. Nope!" Tracey said in a sing-song voice. "At least you can actually eat properly, Ori. I overheard that a certain someone in Gryffindor has had rather explosive experiences...in the boys' toilet. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Zoe?"
"I might have heard the tail end of those, up in the girls' dorms,"
Glowering all the while, Orianna devoured the rest of her breakfast in short order. "I do not know how Potter handles this every single day. All these stares make me...uneasy,"
"Cheer up, Ori! At least today there aren't any classes on Saturday. Oh wait; there's even Quidditch on today!" Aveline said cheerfully, "And we get to see Harry play for the first time!"
"I thought that first-years were not permitted to own broomsticks, let alone play for the house Quidditch teams? And Hermione, you seem quiet today. Is Harry not one of your good friends? Are you not excited to see him play?"
"What? Oh, right. Yes, of course I am," Hermione answered absent-mindedly as she flipped another page in the thick book in front of her. Orianna narrowed her eyes at the distracted Gryffindor bookworm. It was not every day, after all, that Hermione did not pay attention to whatever was happening around her – even if she was actually reading a book. "It's Gryffindor versus...Hufflepuff?"
"Slytherin," corrected Zoe, who rolled her eyes. "Seriously, 'Mione? You hang around Harry a lot, you know. When you're not with us, I mean. He's been training really hard and it's pretty much all that he's been talking about for the past couple of weeks. Are you coming with us to see the match, Ori?"
"I think we're separated by house, but yes. Unfortunate as it is, Professor Snape insists that we all attend for the sake of 'house solidarity',"
"Seriously? The dungeon bat said that?" Zoe said incredulously, "That sounds more like something that Professor Sprout would say to Hufflepuffs. Anyway, we really should finish up with breakfast and head up to the pitch. It's going to be hard to find a good seat if we get there after everyone else. C'mon, 'Mione!"
Zoe drained her cup of pumpkin juice and pulled Hermione to her feet. Ignoring the protests from the bushy-haired brunette, she practically dragged her out of the hall. "Huh. It looks like she left her book," Aveline commented, noticing the book that was still left open on the table. Out of curiosity, Aveline fished out a note that was poking out of it and read it. "Huh. Flamel...philosopher's stone...attempted Gringotts robbery in maximum security vaults?" she murmured, before putting the note back into the book.
Orianna noticed that a look of recognition flitted across Daphne's face. It was there for only the briefest of moments before the blonde schooled her face to her usual icy expression again. The Slytherin Flynn made a mental note to ask some questions later in the dorms. "Aveline, perhaps you should return the book to Hermione if you are to run into her later. We are going to be on the opposite end of the Quidditch pitch, and thus will not have the chance to return the book to her,"
"Not that the Gryffs will let us get anywhere near their stands anyway," commented Tracey. "They'd probably throw us out of there if we tried, troll-slayer with us or not. Anyway, take a look at the Gryff table. I think Slytherin might have an easy win after all,"
Over at the Gryffindor table, Harry was being encouraged by the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and his best friend, Ronald Weasley. Not that their friendly words had any apparent effect; in fact, if anything, the boy seemed to turn paler and paler with every passing moment. "Yep! Definitely an easy win,"
That evening, the Slytherins returned to their dorms in a rather gloomy mood. They, the undefeated champions of the Quidditch Cup for seven years straight, had been defeated by their arch-nemeses in the opening match of the year. If they had been defeated by the talents of a senior Gryffindor, it would have been slightly more tolerable. But no, they had not been defeated by a senior Gryffindor.
Rather, they had been beaten by a first year, of all people. By the Gryffindor Seeker, Harry Potter, who could not even control his broomstick properly in the middle of the match. It started to buck and toss in mid-air, as though trying to throw its rider off, but then stopped when a fire in the teachers' stands caused several professors to flee the stands in panic. To make the loss even more of an insult, Potter did not even catch the Snitch with his hands. Rather, he had nearly swallowed the tiny golden ball while on a misbehaving broomstick!
Thus the Slytherin blame game began in earnest in the common room. Orianna in particular had received a lot of hostile comments from others who had believed that with her as a Beater, they might have knocked all of the Gryffindor players out cold. She countered that she hadn't outright refused to play for Slytherin; rather, it was just a matter of fact that they hadn't been able to find her a school broom that wouldn't break with her on it. Not that Madam Hooch even let them try any more of the brooms after they tried the first five, which were all now splinters in a bin somewhere.
"Well, at least it's the last game before Yule," Tracey muttered, flopping down on Orianna's bed.
"Tracey, that is not your bed," Orianna sighed. The brunette girl simply stuck out her tongue and sat up, shifting across. Orianna resignedly sat down beside her, knowing that there wasn't any way she could move Tracey without literally tossing her off. "Fine, you can stay for now. But you will go to sleep before curfew this time,"
"Pfft. Spoilsport. Anyway, enough talk of Quidditch. The boys are going to talk our ears off anyway tomorrow about it, and I'm sure Potter's Gryffindors are going to taunt us all week too. Are you two going home for the Yule break?"
"Most likely. My mother did inform me that she would want myself and my sisters back in London over Christmas,"
"Since my mum and dad don't want me back at the Davis manor for the Yule break, I'm staying at Hogwarts," Tracey said, pouting. "What about you, Daphy? Do your parents want you back?"
Daphne frowned. "I wish they did not," she replied slowly. Orianna raised an eyebrow while Tracey clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "You know the reason why, Tracey. I really do not want to be back at the Greenfields if I can help it, but a letter to Dumbledore from my father and I could be brought straight back to his study in a flash,"
"That's tough, Daphy. I wish I could help, but...well..." Tracey muttered, trailing off. There was an odd pensive look on her face; Orianna was surprised that the carefree girl could even be capable of deep thoughts. Nevertheless, it was soon replaced by her usual impish grin. "But I know the next best thing! When you do come back, I'll make sure that you know everything about the adventures
I'll have over the break,"
"That sounds...wonderful, Tracey," said Daphne with a forced smile.
"It will be! Just wait and see,"
When Orianna was sure that Tracey was asleep, she slipped out of bed and walked over to Daphne's. "Daphne," she said, slipping under the blonde's four-poster bed curtains. Daphne turned and opened a bleary eye, somewhat irritated by the interruption. "May I sit?"
"Yes. You have a good reason for stopping me from getting a good sleep?" groused Daphne, sitting up and shifting aside, allowing Orianna to sit down beside her.
"I wanted to talk about that note that Zoe found earlier. It mentioned things about a certain Flamel, a philosopher's stone, and a Gringotts robbery. You looked as though you knew about whoever this Flamel is. Would you care to share your knowledge?"
The blonde sat bolt upright. "What is it to you?" Daphne asked carefully, narrowing her eyes.
"Just curious about who this person is, and what the stone does. After all, if someone wanted to break into the most secure bank in Britain to get something, they would not have done it for no good reason,"
"I can't tell you," answered Daphne flatly. Her eyes had hardened to chips of icy green. "Please, Orianna. I value you as a friend, but some things I cannot reveal. My father has forbidden me to speak of...our ally to those who have not met him. Some things are simply too dangerous to be known by the greater public,"
Orianna nodded slowly, knowing that all too well. "Thank you," Daphne breathed in relief. "Now, I would really like to sleep. Goodnight, Orianna,"
"Goodnight, Daphne. Sleep well," replied the red-haired Slytherin. She now had more to ponder on; Daphne knew who this Flamel was, that much for certain. Yet she was unable to reveal anything about the man, claiming that it was dangerous. Perhaps the man was dangerous, or perhaps his creation was dangerous.
The philosopher's stone. What it was, she had no clue. But the scrap of paper spoke of an attempted Gringotts robbery in a maximum security vault, which meant that it was a valuable item. But valuable rarely meant dangerous, and if it was truly dangerous, she doubted that the goblins would let this Flamel store it down in the vaults.
Even stranger was the fact that Hermione was investigating something regarding this Flamel and the stone. Given that she always hanged around Harry whenever she was not with Orianna's group, it was likely that the two were up to something. But what would a pair of schoolchildren want to do about something in a maximum security vault? It made so little sense.
Regardless, as she settled down to sleep in her own bed, she made a mental note to report the situation back to her mother when she came back home. This was too strange to be ignored.
Days flew past until the Christmas break was finally upon them. Hermione, Ron and Harry were all staying behind in Hogwarts, as were the rest of the Weasleys. Tracey had taken it upon herself to continue to prank Ron in Zoe's absence; Gryffindor's resident glutton had not eased off his envious tirades against Hermione's academic superiority. Thankfully, however, Zoe had made sure that Hermione realised that she was far better than he was, and had no reason to be fret about 'having no friends'. Which was arguably a logical fallacy, considering that she had Harry, herself, her sisters, Tracey and Daphne as her friends.
"You see, 'Mione, if you really had no friends – we wouldn't be here, would we?" she grinned as she hugged Hermione goodbye. She slipped a tiny bottle of what looked like hot sauce into Hermione's robe pocket, whispering into her ears, "Switching Spells work amazingly well on liquids. And on people who can't stop eating,"
"What's this?" she asked, fingering the smooth bottle in her pocket.
"Let's just say that whoever eats it will spend some quality time in the loo,"
"Zoe! You know you shouldn't be pranking anyone," Hermione huffed, but there was no heart in it. After all, it was rather difficult for her to ignore the fact that Zoe had been targeting Ron specifically for the insults thrown the bushy-haired brunette's way for the last couple of months.
"Pfft. You'll thank me later for it, 'Mione. Anyway, I think we should probably get going before Professor McGonagall gets mad,"
"We'll get you all some nice Christmas presents when we get back. Promise!" Aveline added cheerfully, hugging Tracey and Hermione in turn.
The journey back to London was largely uneventful, save for one time that Malfoy and his goons attempted to enter their compartment. Zoe and Aveline both stifled giggles as they watched the blond boy strain and struggle to open the door that had been locked by a Colloportus spell not long after the train had left. Eventually, after even Crabbe and Goyle could not open the door, Malfoy stalked off to find another compartment. "As a Slytherin, I should not be holding grudges against Malfoy, but that was too funny. Is he so stupid that he does not know the unlocking charm?" Daphne snickered.
"You really don't like him, do you?"
"Well, let us see," Daphne said sarcastically, counting on her fingers. "Considering that his father has always been pushing for a marriage contract between the two of us, the way that he acts all so high-and-mighty, flaunting his father's wealth and status so openly that is sickening? No, I cannot see a single reason why I should dislike him,"
"Really? But you looked and sounded like you really disliked him,"
"It was sarcasm, Aveline,"
"Oh,"
The entire compartment (minus Aveline) burst into good-natured laughter at the green-ribboned girl's innocent mistake. "Merlin. Never change, Aveline," Daphne laughed lightly. A very rare event, given her usual icy demeanour. "Never change,"
When the train finally arrived at Kings' Cross Station, the girls had changed out of their Hogwarts robes and back into their normal day-to-day wear. All three of the Flynn girls had thought that Daphne was rather pretty in her shimmering acromantula silk school robes, but nothing would have prepared any of them for the mesmerising sight of her winter dress. She wore a silver silk dress which flowed loosely to mid-thigh. Tasteful silver lace decorated its hem and sleeves, and beneath all that she wore black stockings of some shining, shimmering material. Over her dress she wore a thick velvet cloak with white fox-fur trim.
Aveline and Zoe looked at each other uncertainly and then looked down at their own clothes. Both of them wore drab camouflage-pattern trousers with a plain white shirt underneath, with a somewhat worn and scuffed trench coat over the top. Their hair, as ever, hung in messy sheets of bright orange-red down their backs. "I think..."
"...We need better clothes,"
"Just because you two cannot take care of your clothes," sniffed Orianna disapprovingly. Her own trench coat was pressed and neat, and she had tied her hair back into a loose knot underneath a beret. "In any event, we should disembark. Our parents are already likely waiting,"
"No need to remind me," grumbled Daphne. Sighing, she composed herself and lifted up her trunk. "Well, then, I suppose this is it. I'll see you three next term,"
The blonde was the first of the four to disembark; and for the first time, Orianna saw Daphne's parents.
Her mother was a stunning blonde, dainty and slender of build just like her daughter. There was a stately elegance about her; from the way she walked, the way she talked, even the way she greeted others around her. Every action was considered, every movement planned. Not a single hair out of place in her beautiful curls of gold. Her robes were embroidered in silver and bedecked in countless emeralds, flaunting the wealth and power of House Greengrass. She chatted and gossiped with other ladies, each of whom were equally as regal and refined as she.
On sighting Daphne, she excused herself and glided over to her daughter. "Daphne," she said, dipping her head just a tiny fraction.
"Mother," replied Daphne coldly.
"Come now, is that really any way to greet your mother?" chided her father in a deep, baritone voice as he strode alongside his wife. Her father wore a dispassionate expression that betrayed nothing of his thoughts or state of mind, though there was a keen intelligence behind those stormy grey eyes. "I had raised you better than that, Daphne. You will address your mother with respect,"
Daphne looked close to snapping out an acid remark, but bit back her reply anyway. "I am sorry. I apologise, mother, if my tone was irreverent. Hogwarts was...trying,"
"Piffle. You simply have not studied as well as you should," said her mother, waving off Daphne's comments. "And who are your fellow students that you travel with? I must say that they look...unfamiliar,"
Judging by her upturned nose and slightest hints of a scowl, she certainly was not impressed by Orianna's look. "Well, Daphne? Will you not introduce us to your friends?"
"I—very well. Mother, this is Orianna, Zoe and Aveline Flynn. Orianna, Zoe, Aveline; this is my mother, Persephone, Lady of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Greengrass; and my father, Charles, Lord of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Greengrass,"
"Of House?"
"Hufflepuff," blurted out Aveline, who was immediately silenced by a deathly glare from Orianna.
"No house, ma'am. Sir," corrected Orianna, giving a slight curtsy to each, just as Daphne taught her. It was awkward to do so without a dress, for certain; she wished that she were permitted to simply bow, as men and boys were expected to. "We are first-generation witches, or as you would see us, muggleborn,"
"Of course, we already knew that," chuckled Lord Greengrass. His grey eyes were on Orianna, and the girl had a strange feeling that he was seeing straight through her. "How could we not, when the news on the grapevine was rife with rumours of the first muggleborn Slytherin in known history? No, we were merely assessing whether or not our daughter had forgotten her manners while at school,"
"And if Lucius has any say about you, one would think that you were some great, hulking brute of a girl, more troll than man. Yet I see only a girl here who might become a fair woman, given time,"
"Forgive me if this is improper, but may I know who is this Lucius that you speak of?"
"Ah, of course. You would likely not know any of the old families' heads, seeing as you have not been raised among us. Very well, just this once; I speak of Lucius, Lord of House Malfoy," Lady Greengrass spoke. "His son had rather colourful comments to say about you. Fighting his friends on the day of the Sorting, and remaining hostile all through term? You must be either very brave or very foolish,"
Orianna shrugged. "I could not care less about what he thinks. So long as he stays out of my affairs, I will stay out of his. A rather difficult task, considering how often he tries to insult me,"
"But that is where you are wrong, young muggleborn," Lord Greengrass said, smirking unpleasantly. "Sooner or later, you will realise that some families are worth paying more attention to, and to make peace with. You should know that Lord Malfoy is very well connected and is extremely wealthy; both traits of a man who is capable of propelling you to a high position. Of course, the reverse is true, should you continue to offend him,"
"Is that a threat, Lord Greengrass?"
"No, not at all. On the contrary, it is just...a friendly warning. We have observed entire Houses rise and fall with their aid and their displeasure. And without a House, you are even more vulnerable than those of us with the fortune to be born to those with a history of carrying the gift of magic,"
"Oh, but look at the time. It has been a...pleasure, Misses Flynn, but we must return to our estate. Perhaps we will meet again in the future. Come, Daphne,"
With a thunderous crack, Daphne and her parents vanished from the train platform. "Hopefully not," muttered Orianna under her breath. Turning towards the platform entry, she found both her mothers already waiting there, clad in the thickest coats that they had. Which, suffice to say, made them look as though they were ready to go on a polar expedition in comparison to the thin ones augmented by warming charms worn by witches and wizards.
Orianna fingered her wand longingly; it was going to be rather difficult to resist the temptation to practice her spells at every chance she got.
A/N:
-lights Snape on fire with Incendio- SPY! I SEE A SPY! AND HE'S SAPPING MAH MIND!
NecroJake: Yes, I intend to speed things along once the relationships are done. I really don't want to do a retell of the canon story with the simple addition or substitution of one or more OCs into the plot. That's boring to do for both myself and the readers. Fourth year is when things really should start picking up. Third year is basically Harry-centric so far as plot is concerned, so there's not much to be done that year.
gginsc: In a way, this is true; but at the same time, both of the other sisters are aware of their enhanced durability. If Orianna could still stand and fight, they would think that she was still okay.
Dragon Man 180: Hot karma is hot. With bucketloads of wet poop-inducing hot sauce. As far as Harry getting into the exercises, we will see, won't we? Befriending a Gryffindor is one thing, but befriending the Golden Boy is likely to bring down the ire of the entire Slytherin house on all of our Slytherin girls.