Sunlight
The Potter parents fret, Sirius lets slip a dangerous secret, and Avery continues to surprise Grace.
Two eyes lit up in the dark like twin sparks. They burned into the night steadily, like the flame of a wax candle. She could not look into them directly. She was afraid she might be scorched by the intensity of the stare. If she looked too deep and too long, she might find out something better left unknown. No—the fear was greater than that. If she looked, the unknown might find out something about her, something she needed to keep hidden.
What did it mean to hide? It was a chick in an egg, the pale shell of it cracking open, a breath caught, stillness into motion, the birth of movement. It was a hand under the table, skirting along the border, stopping only when it found another hand in wait. It was a voice caught in the throat, half-spoken and half-silent, slipping off the edge of the tongue, anchored by some invisible thing called sense. It was a secret tucked into the pit of her soul.
"Have you something to say now?"
There were two eyes that were less eyes and more embers smoldering in the shadows. They flickered, now and again, but they did not blink. They roared, now and again, but they never overtook her. She was afraid of them, but she didn't know why. There was a secret she had to keep, but she didn't know what. She only knew what it might look like.
Chick in an egg—with fuzz so downy it seemed to be made of the same material clouds were. It had an enormous head, this chick, and despite the fact it was newborn, it wanted to march into a band of roosters. Not yet, sweet hatchling, not yet. It cheeped in protested. It's not worth it, sweet hatchling. It squawked with indignation. I can't let you do it, sweet hatchling. The chick reared its beady little eyes and spoke, "You don't understand."
Hand under the table—soft and slight and so still one might have thought it was made of alabaster. This hand was known. There was a gem pressed into one of its fingers, oversized and sleek. This hand was afraid. It trembled against the teak wood. This hand was strange. It wished desperately for a companion, but when the companion came, it pushed it away.
Voice caught in the throat—a snake that had begun to work its way out of its cage before realizing it was safer inside than outside. "What is it?" a new voice asked, and this was nothing like the timid one. It surged from the mouth like a thoroughbred would into the field. There was a magnetism to it, an intensity to it, and—for the briefest of moments—it seemed it might pull the other voice into its orbit. "No—I—" the timid voice started and stopped, the words stuck once more.
The eyes flared. There was a light blazing into the dark. She looked deeper, just for a moment, just to see what would happen, just to know why it had to be a stubborn chick and a reluctant hand and an anxious voice. She looked, for only a second, and found that those eyes weren't made of fire after all.
They were just eyes. Human eyes, with pupils darker than pitch and irises brighter than blood. They were disgusted with her, because they had seen into her the moment she had seen into them. They knew what she was hiding.
"How sentimental." Everything burned. "How foolish."
The atmosphere was heavy. Reality was very concrete, made of hard edges and sharp lines, and Grace ached under the weight of it. Every breath she took felt like fire taking root in her lungs, and she wished—perhaps for the first time in her life—to be asleep, where such pain could be diminished by dreams.
She stayed very still, and willed herself to go unconscious. But as the seconds ticked by, she strayed further and further away from her wish. She heard shoes tapping against linoleum, smelled fresh dittany and mint, felt the harsh gaze of fluorescent light trailing over her cheek. Reality was pressing down on her once more, demanding her acknowledgement.
"—has been done purely in the hopes of catalyzing a waning." This voice spoke in long strides, and was very familiar to Grace but she couldn't quite place it. Her head rang with phantom aches. "But it may be time to consider the alternative."
"I don't understand," another voice said. It was trembling. Grace wanted to reach out and stroke it. "The cases you've shown us have all illustrated some sort of waning. Why might it be different for Grace?"
"We haven't had a modern case—and certainly not one as extensively studied or covered as Grace's—until now. The cases we've shown you all come from the Middle Ages, when this condition was more common, or at least more heard of. But written record was not very well kept back then, and although the handful of documentation we do have suggests a waning process, there are a couple others that suggest quite the opposite."
The words fell into each other like dominoes set to collapse, and Grace could make neither heads nor tails of it. They were going too fast for Grace to grasp onto any meaning. They spun around her, like a ceaseless cyclone, and grew louder, clearer, more irritating. The calm voice, the frantic one, the shoes tapping against the tiles, the swishing of curtains, the pouring of potions from flasks….
"Stop," Grace said, and her voice was the weakest it had ever been. She said the word like it was the last one she'd ever utter. "Stop…."
She felt hands—warm and soft—rest against her forehead and cheek, and gasped at the contact. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she wriggled away from the hands. She did not want to be touched. She did not to feel anything, did not want to hear. The whole world was wrapping itself around her, squeezing her until she had no breath left. She wanted to be disconnected from it.
"Grace, what's wrong?" two or three voices said all at once.
The light was too bright. The colors were too vivid. The people—who were these people?—were too solid. There were three of them, crowded around her. They were so terribly real that Grace was blinded by them. She could not tell who they were.
"S'too much," she muttered after a moment.
The room went dark in an instant, and Grace relished the sweep of pitch black nothing. The air was cooler now, relaxed, and it eased away from Grace, allowed her room to breathe. The sides of her head pulsed endlessly, and it felt like the steady swing of a row as it batted against choppy waves. It was familiar, this aching. It belonged in her, although she didn't know why.
Slowly, the world rearranged itself. Meaning was made clear. Sense was only an arm's length away.
"Mum?" she croaked. "Dad?"
"Right here, darling," Mum said. Her voice was on the brink of collapse. She did not reach out her hand again, and Grace was grateful for it. "Are you alright? Do you want the lights on?"
"No," Grace breathed. She closed her eyes. She preferred lying in the dark. It was like she was on the edge of a dream.
"Shall we get some draught?" Dad's voice was distressed. "Yarrow ought to be good for any pain—"
"No," Grace said again. She could not imagine drinking anything or chewing thoughtlessly on herbs. The idea of having anything slip into her stomach sickened her. "Tired."
"But—" Dad started.
"We'll give it an hour or so," Healer Kane cut in firmly. "It will take some time for her body to adjust, given how long she's been out. I doubt she'll be able to keep down anything we give her anyway."
"What do we do then?" Mum asked desperately. "There must be something we can do. You can't honestly expect us—"
"Too loud," Grace said quietly.
"Sorry, darling, sorry." Mum's voice dropped to a whisper. "Is this better?"
Grace hummed her content. Her mother's voice sounded like a feather brushing against the crown of her head.
"You can't honestly expect us," Mum picked up in the softest of voices, "to just sit here and do nothing! Can't you cast some sort of numbing spell, so she at least won't be so affected by the environment."
"Her body needs to adjust. Give her some time. If there is something out of the ordinary, then we can consider numbing spells and analgesic herbs, but—"
"Out of the ordinary?" Dad echoed, and his voice was stricken. "This isn't out of the ordinary? She's been comatose for five days. That's never happened before. I—I'm sorry, Healer Kane, but if you won't take this seriously, then we'll have to consider a new Primary—"
"I assure you, Mr. Potter, I am taking this very seriously," Healer Kane said severely. "You must understand that pumping Grace with draughts and herbs on a regular basis will have long term effects on her immunological response. She was only just administered a course of Pepper-Up and Calming Draught two weeks ago, during her last episode. Any sensible Healer will tell you the same thing: prolonged use of these potions have adverse effects on the patient."
For a long moment, no one said anything. Grace could hear her parent's breaths: Mum's sounded more like sniffles while Dad's were coming out quick and furious, like he had just run a marathon.
"It's just," Mum began, "she's in pain."
"No," Grace said.
"What do you mean, darling?"
"Just wanna rest."
There was only a slight throb volleying across her temples. Other than that, she just felt spent. She felt like all her nerve endings had been lit on fire, and they had only just been put out. She wasn't in pain anymore. There was just this desperate ache running through the whole of her, like her body was trying to learn how to exist without pain.
"Okay, yes—rest." Mum said the words like they were a solemn oath. "Yes, please rest."
"When can we take her home?" Dad asked Healer Kane.
"Let's have her stay here at least a day, for some monitoring." Healer Kane paused thoughtfully. "This is, of course, incredibly alarming. We'll have to run some more tests, try and figure out what could have caused another episode in such a short span of time."
"Alright," Dad said. "We'll take her to the cottage Friday morning, if she's feeling up to it then."
Grace grew rigid in her bed. Her throat tightened, and her eyes searched the dark uselessly, settling, after a moment, on the shadowed figure with unkempt hair seated at her side.
"Not the cottage," Grace protested weakly. "I've got Hogwarts and classes…."
"Don't you worry about that now," Mum soothed.
Grace knew what those words meant. She knew what that voice—cloying and indulgent—conveyed. If her parents took her back to the cottage, Grace would never find her way back to Hogwarts. She'd be trapped between the hornbeam in the garden and her parent's watchful gaze.
She couldn't let that happen.
"No," Grace started wildly. Panic rooted itself deep in her heart. Her chest felt thick and clouded. "I've got to go back to Hogwarts. Mum, Dad—please. I've got my homework and professors and—and I've got my friends—"
"Gracie, we'll worry about this later," Dad interrupted gently. His voice was just as tight as hers.
"No!" she said again. "You can't pull me out of Hogwarts. You can't! I belong there, Dad." She belonged there in Slytherin, quietly planning out new ways to get one over her brother. She belonged there in Defense, shooting dirty looks at anyone who scowled at Cresswell. She belonged there in Vablatsky's Divination class, laughing at the Prewetts' antics, at Andromeda's snarky rivalry with Avery, at Ted's occasional joke. "There's so much I want to do there. So much I've got to see. Hogwarts is home, Dad. You know that. You can't take me out. You can't—"
"Grace." Healer Kane stopped her this time, likely because Grace's voice had gotten progressively louder and more frantic. "Please don't exert yourself. Remember your body is still recovering."
"But—"
"Why don't you relax," she continued pointedly, "and tell us the events leading up to your latest paroxysm? From there, we can try to pinpoint if there was any specific cause, anything that might have triggered the episode, anything that might—" Kane's silhouette turned sharply to face Grace's parents, "—warrant pulling Grace out of Hogwarts."
"Okay," Grace agreed readily.
If anyone could find a reason to keep her at Hogwarts, it was Healer Kane. But as Grace searched her memory for something that might convince her parents that Hogwarts wasn't the cause of her most recent episode, she found that she couldn't quite remember what had happened the night she collapsed. Had it even been night? She remembered a light so bright it seared her flesh. She remembered the press of her foot against the stone floor of the castle. She remembered the flash of pain that seized her whole body—like a knife sawing through her skull, like a star bursting in her head, like a fire spreading through her brain.
"Do you remember what happened?" Kane pressed cautiously. "It was a Friday, Grace."
First-year schedules changed every day, and Grace did not remember what classes she had had on that particular Friday. She didn't even remember what she had eaten for breakfast that day, or if she had even had breakfast. If she had, did she eat in the Great Hall or in the kitchens? Was Friday the day she had given James those Howlers?
Grace shut her eyes tight and willed her memory to come back to her, willed herself to dig a little deeper, look a little harder. There must be something she remembered from Friday, but all that came to her was the feel of her heel pressing against the stone, the relentless ache in her head, the spread of white-hot light through her body.
She must have looked rather pained, because Kane said, "If you can't recall anything at the moment, it's completely fine. We can revisit this tomorrow morning, when you're better rested."
But Grace did not think she would be able to rest with her future at Hogwarts at risk. Silently, furiously, she searched herself. Friday, she thought. What happened on Friday? And as soon as she had the question in her mind, the answer floated to her easily.
"Divination," Grace realized. "I've got Divination every Friday."
"Divination?" all three adults chorused.
"Are you sure?" Kane asked.
Mum's brows were furrowed. "But only third-years and above choose advanced subjects like that."
"I'm not allowed to take Flying, because of the brooms," Grace explained, feeling only a little bad that she had neglected to tell her parents all of this. It wasn't her fault, not really. She didn't have the enthusiasm to write out long letters detailing every aspect of her life like James did. "Dumbledore let me take another subject that takes place in the same time, so I chose Divination."
"I see," Kane murmured.
Dad's eyes flew to Kane. "That can't be the issue, can it? Divination's—well—it's Divination," he said incredulously. "The class is a sham. All you do is drink tea and play cards. It's practically the same as having a couple hours' worth of free time."
"Do you remember anything else?" Kane asked.
"I don't even remember going to Divination," Grace said. "But I must have. I've got it every Friday. I don't know what we did on that Friday, but recently we started crystal gazing—"
"With crystal balls?" Kane cut in.
Grace frowned. "Yes, but—"
"Well, that explains that, doesn't it?" She sounded rather put-out, although Grace couldn't understand why. It was as her father had said—tea leaves and tarot cards couldn't trigger a paroxysm. Why should a crystal ball?
"I don't understand," Mum said, and there was an edge of unease to her voice.
"Crystal balls are powerful reserves of magic," Kane began. "I don't entirely understand how they work, if they actually do work, but they are dangerous if tampered with. No one is sure what's inside a crystal ball—"
"It's the future," Grace found herself saying.
Kane stopped for a moment. She peered down at Grace. "Er—perhaps," she said in a tone that very much conveyed no, not at all. She shifted her attention back to Grace's parents. "Regardless, whatever is inside the crystal ball is volatile. The glass that's used to encase this magic is enchanted, of course, but it allows small doses of whatever is inside to permeate outwards and interact with the user's aura. Now, we already have Grace on a strict ban with powerful magical items that could trigger the build-up in her temporal lobes—"
"This must have been what triggered her so quickly," Mum caught on. "Oh, Grace—why didn't you tell us?"
"Sorry," she said without quite meaning it. "I didn't think it was important."
"Everything is important," Dad said in rather a grave tone.
Grace swallowed thickly. "Well, we've figured it out now, haven't we?" she started. "I won't touch another crystal ball, I promise. I won't even step into the same room as one—"
"Grace," Mum began, voice soft, "I know you wouldn't willingly put yourself at risk of an episode, but you must realize that there must be hundreds of powerful objects like crystal balls littered all over Hogwarts. I wouldn't even know where to start the list. We're lucky we've narrowed in on crystal balls as the source of this particular episode, but suppose there's something else you've interacted with that might have had a hand in this? Suppose we send you back and there's something else that triggers a paroxysm?"
The center of Grace's chest felt very heavy and hot. Her heart hammered against her chest relentlessly. "But the waning…" she said weakly.
Because Healer Kane had said Grace would undergo a waning, didn't she? Kane had assured Grace that once she got her wand, her magical energy would adjust and channel through it, reducing the risk of buildup beneath her temples.
Kane shared a meaningful look with Grace's parents. Silence hung over the small group for a moment, and then Dad said, "Why don't you rest today, Gracie? And we'll talk in the morning."
"I can't rest, not until I know if I can go to Hogwarts or not," Grace pleaded.
"It's just—" Mum faltered and glanced at Kane. "It's just...we don't want to add to any stress—"
"I need to rethink my earlier diagnosis, actually," Kane interrupted, "seeing as I now need to factor in the presence of crystal balls. What I'm thinking now is that there isn't any long term exacerbation that's happened. This is likely a one-time incident."
The weight in her chest disappeared in an instant. Grace felt like flying out of her bed and enveloping Kane in a tight hug.
"But if there are other powerful magical items…." Mum trailed off.
"That is something we'll have to consider," Kane agreed. "But if the waning process has started, then Grace must get acquainted to such items, albeit at a gradual pace."
"So everything's fine," Grace said quickly, wanting to smooth over this whole discussion as fast as possible. Dimly she caught onto Kane's use of the word 'if,' but decided that was an issue that would be tackled another day. "So I can go to Hogwarts. I should go to Hogwarts. It's only best."
Mum's lips were pressed into one thin, grim line. "We'll see," she said after a long moment.
It was better than a flat-out 'no.'
It was a bright Friday morning when Grace was transferred from St. Mungo's to the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. Her return was accompanied with a new list of rules and restrictions. She was barred from attending Divination until they moved onto non-magical items like tarot cards and dream journals. She was to be administered a new herbological concoction—crushed mistletoe—every week by Madam Pomfrey. Her weekly check-ins had also turned into daily check-ins in order to avoid another sudden episode. Oh, and—
"A St. Mungo's trip every week?" Pomfrey read as she tapped her wand against the sprig of dried mistletoe nestled in the mortar. Immediately, the large stone pestle began to grind the herb on its own.
"Yeah," Grace grumbled, burrowing herself deeper into her cot. Despite the fact she had already spent the past week in a hospital bed, Pomfrey had insisted Grace continue to rest up where the matron could keep an eye on her. "It'll be Sunday mornings, so I'm not missing class."
Grace had been in no position to negotiate all these new rules. Mum and Dad were still not completely convinced on the idea of sending Grace back to Hogwarts, but after Kane had outlined this new (very limiting) protocol, they seemed less worried. Truthfully, Grace hadn't even wanted to contest the restrictions. She had been ready to offer her parents just about anything so long as she could go back to Hogwarts. She was just about ready to have them live in Hogwarts with her. But, thankfully, it hadn't come to that.
"You'll have to use the Headmaster's Floo for that," Pomfrey said, vanishing Kane's letter.
Grace soured at this news. Dumbledore had an uncanny way of making her feel immeasurably guilty for lies she hadn't even told yet. She had hoped she wouldn't have any more interactions with him this year.
Pomfrey stopped the self-grinding mortar and pestle. With a flick of her wrist, a goblet full of piping hot water appeared in her left hand. Gently, she poured the ground mistletoe into the goblet and gave it a quick stir. There was only a pinch of powder, but it seemed particularly potent, because within a couple of seconds the color of the water had changed a deep amber.
Pomfrey passed the steaming goblet to Grace, who took a cautious sniff. It didn't smell like anything. In fact, if Grace were blindfolded she might have guessed she had just been handed a cup of plain water.
"Now, you're to drink up the whole of that," Pomfrey said. "It's a bit hot, so I recommend sipping on it. When you're all done, I'll get some breakfast for you from the kitchens."
Grace nodded, and Pomfrey vanished into her quarters. Grace blew on the surface of the goblet, and watched silently as small curls of steam billowed from the cusp. When she felt the mistletoe tea was cool enough, she put her lips against the rim, took a small sip, and nearly gagged.
It was so bitter that Grace's lips had pursed up just from contact. How in Merlin's name did Pomfrey expect Grace to stomach this? Especially without at least a dash of honey? Grace stared helplessly at her goblet, very much dreading the idea of taking another sip let alone downing the whole thing. Just as she began to contemplate the repercussions of throwing the contents into a nearby planter, the doors of the Hospital Wing creaked open.
Grace caught sight of an untidy head of jet black hair and lopsided glasses. James's eyes caught onto her cot immediately, seeing as it as the only one that was occupied, and he padded towards her bedside cautiously. He seemed just a tiny bit worried that Grace might rise from her bed at any moment and pelt him with pillows and blankets like the last time.
"Hey," he said when he was at the foot of her cot. His eyes roved over her and landed on the goblet clutched loosely in her hands. "Is that Pepper-Up?"
Grace simply stared at him for a moment. She wasn't sure if they were continuing their feud or if they had put it on hold since she was on bedrest. She caught sight of the dark circles rung about his eyes, the crease between his brows, the sag of his shoulders, and decided that he was likely too tired to be up to anything.
"No," she said shortly, looking down at her mistletoe tea. Her lips curled in revulsion. "It's this new thing Kane's put me on. It tastes like a lemon and a piece of ginger had a baby together."
James's lips cracked in a smile. "So really tasty then?" James moved towards Grace's side and peered down at the drink. "It doesn't look so bad."
"You wouldn't say that if you tried it," Grace said darkly. Her hands shifted around the goblet. "I don't want to drink it."
James perked up. "Bet you ten Galleons you won't drink it all in one go."
Grace narrowed her eyes at him. "I bet you fifteen Galleons that you can't take a sip without flinching."
"Oh, you're just going to give me fifteen Galleons for nothing, then?" He took the cup from her. "Must be my lucky day."
Grace watched carefully as James took a sip. It was a small one, but there was no denying that he had ingested some of the mistletoe concoction. She leaned forward in anticipation of the dry-heave that would follow...but it never came. James's expression didn't change in the slightest. When he tore the rim of the goblet away from his lips, Grace saw that he was still smiling.
"Can you deliver the fifteen Galleons to me by Monday?" James asked, handing her back the goblet. "I've got my eye on some new joke wands from Gambol and Japes."
"Hold on," Grace protested. She gripped the stem of her goblet tightly. "Let's double your bet. I'll drink this all in one go for twenty Galleons."
James shook his head sadly. "Doesn't seem like a very good idea, Grace. You'll end up owing me thirty-five Galleons, and you know I always collect."
She scowled at him before turning to stare down at her drink. With a grave sort of resignation, she raised one of her hands and pinched her nostrils. She took a great lungful of air and then downed the contents of the goblet, scrunching her nose as the tell-tale bitterness enveloped her mouth. The center of her throat seared with warmth.
Within a minute, the goblet was dry, devoid of even a single drop. Grace wiped her sleeve against her mouth messily and smiled smugly. She turned to put the goblet on her bedside table and saw that James was still beaming. His lips were spread into a large grin, and his eyes shone from the sunlight. For someone who had just lost a bet, he seemed awfully happy.
It hit Grace in an instant that this had been one of his stupid little tricks. It had been a while since he'd done something like this. The last time had been around two years ago, when James got his Hogwarts letter. Grace had been testing out some horrid epilepsy potions. She didn't want to drink the potions on account of their bogey-like aftertaste, but James had made such a big fuss about wanting to try one for himself, about wanting to have his own, that she had begun to think...well, if James wanted one….
In the end, she had finished the whole trial. She didn't like it, and they didn't help. But she had done it. She realized somewhere along the way that James hadn't really wanted an epilepsy potion for himself. He had just wanted Grace to drink hers.
Grace looked at her brother again, and this time warmth flooded her heart. This wasn't the feud put on hold. This was the end of the feud. This was an apology. This was forgiveness. This was the James she knew and loved.
She didn't want to break the subtle lightheartedness of the moment with her own apology, so she simply asked, "Why're you here so early? It's not even breakfast yet."
James shrugged. "Mum and Dad only send letters in the evening. I can't wait that long, so I've been going to Pomfrey in the mornings for updates."
"Updates?"
James rolled her eyes. "Updates on you, Grassie." Grace decided to let this one go. "I wasn't allowed to just leave Hogwarts to come visit you."
Grace's brows rose. "Really? That doesn't seem fair."
"I know, right!" James groaned and flopped down on the edge of Grace's cot. She moved to make room for him. "I just about begged McGonagall, but she said I needed my parent's permission. So, I wrote Mum and Dad, but they said there wasn't any use, which it total rubbish, yeah?"
"Yeah," Grace nodded.
"I know you were out cold, but I bet I could've brought you to." James grinned again. "Sirius and I developed our own stink pellets. One sniff could raise the dead."
Grace's stomach twisted. She dropped her eyes to her lap. "Did you make your own stink pellets to get back at the ones I dropped on the Gryffindor table?"
"Well, yeah, but—" he hesitated for a moment, "—I mean, I'm not going to use them now, of course."
Grace fidgeted. "Right." She paused, and played with the loose threads in her blanket for a moment. It was now or never. "Er—I'm sorry."
James's eyes snapped to hers. "Really?" His tone was one of utter disbelief, and completely baffled Grace.
"What do you mean 'really?'" she demanded.
"Because I'm sorry," James said readily. "I didn't mean to make you feel lonely during your first couple months at Hogwarts. I suppose I could have sent you a letter. I didn't realize you might have been getting letters without owls."
Grace was mildly impressed with his apology. This was about a million steps up from the rushed 'I'm sorry you felt that what I did was wrong' that James usually gave. She supposed that one of his friends—likely Remus—had helped him craft this.
"Thanks," she said. "And I'm sorry for disappearing on you for a month and a half...and then for getting mad when you didn't find me." She bit her lip for a moment. "It's just—I dunno, I thought if you really wanted to see me, you would've made an effort."
He gaped at her. "I did make an effort. I talked to Slughorn , and I didn't even insult him! I even asked McGonagall, once, after class. I was about to just go to Dumbledore when I finally stumbled upon you in the Hospital Wing."
"Asking professors doesn't quite strike me as 'making an effort.'" She gave him a look. "You could've broken into the Slytherin common room. Merlin knows you've broken into pretty much everywhere else in Hogwarts."
"I thought about it," James admitted after a moment. "And Sirius was willing to help me, too, but then I realized that, well, having your big brother break into your House's common room and confront you about your disappearance was probably the last thing you wanted. I mean—let's be honest—I think you would have been furious with me if I showed up in the middle of the Slytherin common room asking for you."
Grace weighed this in her head. "Er—yeah, you're right, actually. That probably would have made me more upset."
A self-satisfied smirk spread across James's lips. "See! I know what I'm doing."
"Fine," Grace conceded. "Well, anyway—I'm sorry for that and for the stuff in the library...and also for the stink pellets."
"And the Howlers?"
"I'm not apologizing for those. They were hilarious!"
"They were embarrassing," James complained. "Evans called me Jam-Jam the next day in Charms."
"It was only fair," Grace insisted. "You did nearly set me on fire in the library. You should apologize for that, by the way."
"I will not!"
"What?" Grace frowned. "Why?"
"Because that wasn't what I was trying to do at all! I was trying to cast the Pepper-Breath Jinx. Do you honestly think I would try to set you on fire just because you called me a prat?"
"You dropped a million fireworks on the Slytherin table the next day," Grace pointed out.
"Because you nearly crushed me to death by knocking over those bookshelves."
"I meant to just hit you with a Knockback!" Grace said. "How was I supposed to know you'd duck?"
"Er—because of course I would?" James said, and there was a grin spreading across his face. "Because I've got catlike reflexes and the strength of a dragon?"
Grace rolled her eyes and sunk deeper into her bed. "Yeah, sure you do. And I'm secretly Minister for Magic."
"No, really," James insisted. "I tried out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team first week back, and Breckenridge—she's our captain—said she'd never seen someone with such great instinct." He beamed. "I'm the only second-year they took on."
"Oh," Grace said, and bit her lip. She was into her third month at Hogwarts, and she hadn't even known James had made his House's Quidditch team. "That's wicked, James. I suppose the new Nimbus really did come in handy." She smiled. "Congrats."
"Thanks," he said, and the word was so genuine and earnest and bright that Grace only then realized just how much she had missed James.
She shifted in her cot. "We're good now, yeah? We'll talk again?"
James rose from the end of her bed and ruffled her hair. She batted his hands away.
"'Course we will," he said. "You should have breakfast with me at the Gryffindor table."
"Or you could have breakfast with me at the Slytherin table," Grace pointed out.
James snorted. "Look, I missed you a ton but not enough to willingly sit in a pit of snakes."
Grace didn't even catch the latter part of the sentence. "You really missed me?" she asked, and found herself leaning forward in anticipation of James's answer.
"Of course I did, you dolt." James rolled his eyes. "My mates are my mates, but you're my sister. Sure, you're just about the most annoying person I've ever met—" Grace's eager little smile twisted into a faint scowl, "—but we've been through a lot. No one here knows half as much about me as you do." He cocked his head slightly to the left. "Well, maybe Sirius. But I haven't yet told him about all the times I tried to give you away when you were a baby."
Grace wrinkled her nose. She didn't remember those moments, but during Yuletide parties or family gatherings, her parents would often spin long stories about James's mischievous toddler days. He'd been so upset about having a sibling that, on multiple occasions, he had tried handing Grace off to visitors. Once, he snuck Grace into a visiting colleague's briefcase. It wasn't until a full twenty minutes after the man left that her parents had realized what had happened.
Grace shoved at him lightly. "You know," Grace sighed, "I was so close to forgiving you, and then you had to dredge all that back up."
"S'not like you were completely innocent during our childhood. Or did you forget all the times you'd break Mum's teacups and blame it on me?"
"Did you forget all the times—"
"Oi," a loud, brash voice called out from beyond the Hospital Wing doors. "Are you two done making up or what?"
Grace nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden noise, but James was nonplussed.
"Yeah," he called back just as loudly. "You guys can come in."
One by one, James's friends filtered into the Hospital Wing. First was Sirius Black, of course, who sauntered in with a crooked grin and bright grey eyes. Behind him was Peter, cautious as usual, and Remus, whose gentle eyes roved over Grace.
"Were you lot just waiting out there?" Grace demanded.
"Well, of course," Sirius said, plopping down at the foot of Grace's bed like they were old friends. "So, how're you doing, Puny Potter?"
She glared at him. "Don't call me that."
"But you're a Potter, and you're—" Sirius lifted his thumb and pointer finger and squeezed them together, "—puny."
"And you're a Black and you're full of bollocks, so maybe I should call you Bollocks Black?"
Peter snickered at this, and James rolled his eyes.
Sirius, to Grace's surprise, let out a bark of a laugh. "Ah—good to see you're back to your old self." He shifted closer. "So, what exactly happened—"
"Sirius!" both James and Remus said, although Remus's tone was considerably more irate than James's.
"Oh, what—I can't ask questions anymore?" Sirius said.
"Do you not remember the talk we had last weekend?" Remus said lowly.
"Do you not remember James telling you Grace just bumped her head?" Peter added.
"Bumped my head?" Grace cut in. Did James seriously think a bump on the head could explain away nearly a week's absence from Hogwarts?
James shrugged rather sheepishly.
"Peter," Sirius sighed. "That was obviously a lie. You know that, right? Please tell me you knew that."
"Er—" Peter's pale eyes danced between James and Sirius.
"It wasn't a lie," James insisted. "It was just—er—a placeholder."
"A placeholder?" Remus said, and there was a hint of a smile peeking through his otherwise dour expression. "Were you planning on coming up with a much better lie later?"
"Alright, let's get back to the topic at hand," Sirius said, turning to Grace. "Now, we all know you haven't bumped your head. When I came over for Easter, I remember James saying you were a sickly child—"
"He never said it like that," Grace protested.
"—and that was why your parents are so overprotective of you. And—" Sirius gestured at Grace, "—you're obviously still very weak—"
Grace scowled at him. "What do you mean by that?"
"—and I'm pretty sure, within another month, we're all going to figure out precisely what's wrong. So why not just save us the trouble and tell us now: Are you a werewolf?"
James's brows flew so high up his forehead that they nearly disappeared into his hairline. Peter choked on nothing but thin air, and spent the next several minutes wheezing. Remus went pale as a ghost and seemed to be struggling with something. Grace stared at Sirius for a very long moment, trying to understand how in the world he had been led to the world's wildest conclusion with absolutely no evidence.
"Sirius!" Remus started, aghast. "Blinking hell—what is wrong with you?"
James burst out laughing. "You figure out one student is a werewolf and now you think every student who's admitted into the Hospital Wing is one?"
"James!"
Sirius looked at James, exasperated. "It's a perfectly reasonable assumption!"
Grace kicked Sirius off her bed. "It really isn't, you gigantic dunderhead. I was in the Hospital Wing last week, too. Werewolves only turn once a month." She turned to James. "And what do you mean 'one student is a werewolf'?"
James opened his mouth, and then immediately closed it. He paused thoughtfully, and then said, "Don't worry about it."
Grace scoffed. If James thought she was letting this go, then he had another thing coming. "There's a werewolf at Hogwarts? Who is it? Are they in my year?"
Sirius patted James on the back. "You really blew the whistle on that one, mate."
"Just him?" Peter muttered.
"You both did," Remus hissed.
Grace's eyes flitted on each of the boys around her before landing on Remus. The bandaged scars she had seen on his arms when she was last in the Hospital Wing flashed unwillingly in her mind. Her eyes flickered over the small, fading cuts that decorated the side of his face.
We're both lying, aren't we? Remus had said that night.
Grace's eyes grew as wide as Galleons. "Merlin's pants!" she exclaimed. "Remus—you're a werewolf?"
"I'm going to murder both of you after this. And don't say I can't get away with it, because you two know I can," Remus told James and Sirius. "I swore you to secrecy just last week, and you've already gone and blown it!"
"In my defense, I thought she was one, too!" Sirius said. "I thought you two could bond over it."
"I think you might have jumped the gun," Peter piped in timidly. "If Grace had turned this past week, then wouldn't have Remus?"
"Huh," Sirius said thoughtfully. "I suppose you've got a point there, Peter."
"How on earth could you think Grace being a werewolf was the most logical conclusion?" Remus demanded. "She doesn't have any fresh scratches, no old scars—"
"These are all wonderful points, Moony—"
Grace laughed at the nickname. "Moony? Merlin, it's a miracle they didn't tell anyone before me, Remus."
Remus let out a defeated sigh. "This is a disaster."
As Remus's shoulders slumped and his lips twisted into a distressed pout, the keen look in Grace's eyes faded. She was suddenly overcome with a flood of guilt. If someone had found out about her own condition without her wanting to, she would have been absolutely livid. She would have likely threatened them into secrecy. She would have stormed out the room and cried in her dorm later.
She would be hurt and upset and in desperate need of comfort.
"It's okay," Grace told Remus, and hoped she sounded as tender as she meant to. "I promise I won't tell anyone, Remus."
Remus looked at her carefully, and Grace wished she could transmit her thoughts into his head directly. I wouldn't reveal another person's condition for anything, she wanted to tell him. I know how you feel. You're not alone.
"You're not...horrified?" Remus asked quietly.
Before Grace could even open her mouth, James spoke: "This again? Remus—come on—you've nothing to be ashamed about. You're one of the best wizards I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. Just because you've got a furry little problem—" Sirius wheezed with laughter, "—doesn't mean you ought to be barred from all human interaction."
"You're a good person, Remus," Peter added kindly. "It doesn't matter what sort of animal you might turn into once a month."
"Yeah," Grace agreed. Remus was the kindest soul she had met thus far. She'd never forget that night in the Hospital Wing for as long as she lived—two voices in the dark finding comfort for the briefest of moments. "Your condition doesn't define you, Remus. What I've got isn't nearly as bad, but—"
"To be honest, Grace, what you've got is downright terrifying," James cut in, frowning. "Maybe it's because you're unconscious half the time, so you don't realize what's going on, but it's—"
"Would one of you tell me what it is?" Sirius cried out. "I've told you one of my secrets, so now—"
"One of your secrets?" Remus said incredulously.
"Yeah, that one of my best mates is a werewolf—" Remus charmed Sirius's tongue to stick to the roof of his mouth, and Sirius nearly choked as he swallowed his words.
Sirius shot Remus a dirty look and proceeded to try to unstick his tongue by pulling at it with his fingers.
Grace's eyes flickered towards Sirius, and irritation pierced through her sharply. Did he just devote all his time to speaking and none towards thinking? How could he think that Grace was a werewolf just because Remus was one? Was he really that dumb?
"Is that a new charm, Moony?" James said, brows raised in interest. He regarded Sirius closely. "It's very nice."
"Thank you," Remus sniffed.
"Will you write it down for me later?" James continued. "I ought to try this on Snivellus."
Sirius pulled his fingers away from his mouth, and shook his head at James.
"What? Not Snivellus?"
Sirius shook his head again, and then did a poor impression of what seemed to be an old man falling down some stairs. Apparently, this made sense to James, because he brightened.
"Right, of course! We'll do it on Sanderson during class. That'll get the old coot to stop rambling."
Sirius nodded enthusiastically at this, and Grace considered the grey-eyed boy once more. He couldn't really be that daft, right? He was cleverer than whatever foolish facade he put on. Grace was almost sure of this. She had seen Sirius's brilliance during Easter, when the older boy had goaded her into using James's broomstick. And he definitely hadn't grown dense over the past year, not if he was James's partner in crime, not if he had been keeping as many secrets as he had from bookish, observant Regulus.
Grace's eyes trailed back to Remus. He had been so upset when Sirius had revealed his secret that, for the briefest of moments, Grace felt compelled to tell him all about her own condition, if only to get the attention off of him, if only to make him feel less lonely, if only to have them both back on equal footing. Perhaps that had been Sirius's plan the whole time, but she couldn't be sure.
"Aha!" Sirius said, successfully peeling his tongue away from the roof of his mouth. He wiped the saliva on the front of his robes, much to Peter's disgust. "Great charm, Moony. Wish you hadn't tested it on me...but if not me, then who?"
"Then who?" Remus agreed softly.
"Anyway—" Sirius's eyes returned to Grace, "—you were talking about your condition?"
"No, I wasn't," Grace said resolutely. "It's nothing serious, and it's nothing you need to know."
If Sirius was upset by her refusal, he certainly didn't show it. He simply shrugged and said, "It was worth a try." He rose and brushed back his hair with his hand. "I actually came to talk to you about something else entirely."
Grace's eyes flickered towards James for a moment, but he seemed just as confused as her. Her gaze returned to Sirius. "Me?"
"Yeah. It's about Regulus."
Grace's brows furrowed. The last time she saw Regulus, she was about to keel over in the Great Hall. Practically a whole week had passed since then, and she had no idea how he'd been holding up, especially with the other Slytherins.
"Is he okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," Sirius waved off. "Little bugger's got his nose buried in a new book. He's perfectly happy."
She relaxed. "Then what is it?"
Sirius sighed heavily. With the solemnity of someone attending a funeral, he said, "I don't know how to say this, but...Regulus is going to ask you over for Christmas holiday."
"Oh, it's this," James said, lounging behind Sirius.
"Wait, what?" Grace started, glancing at James. "Why're you all serious all of a sudden? What's going on?"
"Nothing," James assured.
At the exact same time, Sirius said, "I'm always Sirius—"
"Just for that joke, I'm leaving," Remus interrupted flatly. "Come on, Peter. Let's get breakfast."
Grace saw the two leave from the corner of her eye but she barely registered it. "So what if Regulus is going to ask me over? Is that...bad?"
"No, not at all," Sirius said lightly, but his posture—tense and upright—screamed otherwise. "It's just that, when he asks, you need to say no."
"Why?"
"You can still come over," Sirius continued. "It'll be at my uncle's house. But you've got to tell Regulus you can't come."
"But why?" Grace asked again, and this time her voice was harder. She pursed her lips and looked to James, who didn't seem at all affected by any of this. "Won't Regulus be upset?"
"Yeah, but he'll get over it. Besides," Sirius said with heavy exasperation, "you can still come over. You just can't let him know."
"If I can still come over, why can't I just tell him yes?"
Grace was beginning to suspect Sirius was trying to keep another secret from Regulus. She had seen how heartbroken Regulus was when she mentioned Sirius had secretly come to the Potter cottage for Easter. She didn't want to lie to him. She didn't want to keep a secret from Regulus without at least understanding why.
"Just trust me," was all the explanation Sirius gave.
During lunch, Pomfrey checked the level of magical strain within Grace's temporal lobes. Apparently, the matron wasn't pleased with what she saw because she refused to discharge Grace, instead magicking a platter of grilled cheese sandwiches and disappearing into her own quarters.
Glumly, Grace sat in her cot, knees pulled up to her chest, chewing mindlessly on sandwich after sandwich. Within twenty minutes, she had finished the whole platter, but her stomach still didn't feel full. She was just about to call for Pomfrey and ask for more food to be magicked into existence—perhaps some sort of parfait—when the platter refilled itself.
Grace stared at the platter in shock. Gingerly, she peeled another sandwich from the top of the pile and chewed curiously. It tasted no different from the others.
"Wicked," Grace breathed, staring at the platter. Imagine she had something like this stocked up in her room! She wouldn't have to roll out of her bed to get breakfast on weekends. She could just eat from the comfort of her room.
As Grace began to consider the logistics of smuggling Pomfrey's magic platter out of the Hospital Wing, the doors creaked open and a new visitor walked in. Grace's head rose sharply and she beamed as she saw one Regulus Black dash towards her cot.
"Finally!" he cried out, and pulled a chair from another cot towards her bedside. "I was beginning to think you were never coming back."
"No force on earth could keep me away from Hogwarts," Grace said honestly.
"Are you alright?" His grey eyes roved over Grace carefully. "Are you better? Do you know what happened? I was reading about stomach illnesses, and did you know raw beef can—"
"I can guarantee you that I probably don't know whatever fact it is you're about to spit out." Grace swallowed down her bite of grilled cheese. "I'm feeling much better now."
Regulus smiled in relief. "What happened?" he repeated. "I asked Andromeda afterwards, but she wouldn't tell me anything. She just said you needed rest."
An overwhelming amount of gratitude for Andromeda washed over Grace. "Er—I don't really know what happened," Grace said, and it was partly true. The whole affair had been something of a blur. Not to mention, she'd been unconscious for the most of it.
Regulus frowned. "But you went to St. Mungo's, right? Surely the Healers figured it out?"
They sort of did, but not entirely. Crystal balls were certainly to blame for the last episode, but Kane and her parents were still not sure why that particular paroxysm had been so intense.
"Not really," Grace said, biting her lip. She busied herself by chewing on her sandwich. "They're a bit confused. I've got to go back next Friday for a check-up."
"They're confused?" Regulus said, eyes wide. "That's not very good, is it?"
"I'm fine," Grace assured. She shrugged half-heartedly. "It's probably a one-time thing."
"I'll do some more research," Regulus offered immediately. "The library has got an enormous section about Healing."
"Er—that's not really necessary—"
"I've already checked out a dozen books," he beamed.
"Of course you have," Grace sighed. "Anyway, what's happened at Hogwarts this past week? Anything interesting?" She groaned suddenly. "Did Sanderson assign a new project?"
Regulus grimaced. "He did, actually, but it was due yesterday." His eyes flew down towards the floor. "He paired your partner up with Yaxley's group since you were gone."
Grace's brows rose. Cresswell with Yaxley? That was just asking for trouble. "How did it go?" she asked, very much dreading the answer.
"Not that great," Regulus admitted. "During the demonstration, something went wrong, and Cresswell started puking. Yaxley swears he just cast the jinx wrong."
"A likely story," Grace muttered. "Well, I'll be back on Monday. I'll put an end to this nonsense once and for all."
Regulus glanced at her worriedly. "Please don't destroy the Defense classroom."
She rolled her eyes. "I won't destroy the classroom, Regulus. I'll just—I dunno—teach Yaxley a lesson or something."
He considered this. "Alright, but don't drag me into it. I have to share a dorm with him."
"So you're telling me I shouldn't ask you to replace all his robes with Gryffindor ones?" Grace asked.
"Definitely not! He'd kill me if I went through his things!"
"Okay, okay—calm your knickers," she laughed. "Has anything else happened?"
"Not really. You do have a lot of material to catch up on, though."
Grace's shoulders sagged.
"But don't worry," he said immediately. "We've got the whole weekend. We can get through most of it."
"You're a saint, Regulus," Grace said thankfully.
He beamed. "By the way, I've got to ask you something."
She perked up. Sirius's warning flashed in her head like a siren: Regulus is going to ask you over for Christmas holiday…. You need to say no.
Again, she wondered why. What was the reason behind refusing Regulus? Sirius had said she could still come over; she just couldn't let Regulus know. It could have been that Sirius wanted to surprise Regulus, but having Regulus's closest friend lie to him didn't sound like a particularly good surprise. In fact, it sounded sort of underhanded and dishonest.
"What is it?" Grace asked.
"I've been thinking recently," Regulus began anxiously.
Grace snorted. "You're always thinking, Regulus."
"That's true, but usually about Hogwarts and classes and new books." He fidgeted in his seat. "This time I was thinking about how Christmas holiday is coming up. Sirius and I are visiting my Uncle Alphard for a day, and I was just wondering...well, if you've got nothing to do, then—"
Grace couldn't help the grin that was slowly overtaking her face. Sod Sirius Black, she thought instantly. "I'd love to visit you during holiday, Regulus!"
Relief washed over Regulus. "Really?" he said, eyes bright.
"Of course I would!"
"Brilliant," he breathed. "Uncle Alphard's great but he doesn't pay very much attention, so we can do whatever we want. He's got scores of magical items he picked up during travels in the attic, and we can look at them all. Oh—and he's got tons of good books, too—"
"Regulus, we are not reading during holiday," Grace said immediately.
"They've got pictures in them," he added.
She considered this. "Okay, fine. Maybe we'll read."
He smiled once more, and Grace found herself returning it easily. She decided very quickly that she had done the right thing by ignoring Sirius's advice. Regulus would have been absolutely crushed if Grace had said no, especially if she didn't even have a good reason for it.
"Shouldn't you be heading back to class soon?" Grace asked. "Lunch is almost over."
Regulus's eyes flew to the grandfather clock tucked into the corner of the room. He sighed heavily, and began to pick up his knapsack. "You're right. Do you want me to stop by after dinner?"
"If you want." Grace's eyes flickered to the silver platter full of sandwiches. "Could you do me a favor, though?"
"What?"
"Could you take this platter with you?" Grace lifted it off her bedside table. "Pomfrey gave it to me for lunch, and it produces infinite sandwiches—"
"You want me to steal that?" Regulus started, scandalized. "But that's school property!"
"It'll still be in the school," Grace insisted.
"Grace!"
"Oh, fine. I'll convince you after dinner, then."
To Grace's dismay, Pomfrey had collected the never-ending platter of grilled cheese sandwiches sometime between lunch and dinner. Without a magical platter to play around with, Grace quickly grew bored. She tried getting a leg up on the copious amount of homework that awaited her by practicing the Mending Charm, but, somehow, she managed to explode two pillows instead of, well, mend them.
Thankfully, Pomfrey didn't take any points from Slytherin, but she did confiscate Grace's wand. So, now, Grace was spending her time waiting for Regulus to finish with classes. She had half a mind to barge into Pomfrey's private room and demand the platter back.
As she weighed the pros and cons of this plan in her hospital bed, a jubilant voice cried out, "Grace!"
Grace twisted in her bed, straightening up as caught sight of a few familiar seventh-years streaming into the Hospital Wing. "Hello, Andromeda, Ted, Gideon...Fabian...—Avery?" She stared at Avery's disgruntled expression, and then her eyes dropped down to the neatly wrapped box he held in his hands. "Er—" she lifted her eyes from the present and looked to Andromeda, "—what're you all doing here?"
"We were wondering what happened to our resident firstie," Fabian said easily.
"Andromeda said you might be in the Hospital Wing," Gideon continued.
"How are you feeling?" Andromeda asked. Her dark eyes searched Grace's face, and Grace found herself looking away on instinct.
She wasn't sure what exactly had happened last week, but it likely involved some screaming and a bout of fits. She knew Andromeda wouldn't judge her for something she couldn't control, but she couldn't help but wonder if the older girl was put-off by her now.
"I'm alright," Grace said.
"That's good to hear!" Ted said brightly. He hefted two deluxe boxes of Honeydukes sweets and laid them on Grace's bedside. "Meant to drop this off earlier, but we hadn't the chance."
Grace gaped at the large boxes of chocolate. "You got that for me?"
"'Course we did," Ted smiled. "A bit of sugar's precisely what you need when you're on the mend."
"That sounds entirely inaccurate," Avery sniffed.
"Come off it, Avery," Andromeda said. She pointed at the present he was holding. "As if that box doesn't hold chocolates straight from Paris."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "I'll have you know they're from Madrid." He turned towards Grace, and raised his box of chocolates. "Don't take this to mean I'm fond of you or anything like that," he said lightly.
Grace couldn't stop the grin that was burgeoning across her lips. "You are, aren't you? Was it my charm that won you over? Was it the Howlers?"
Avery's lips twitched upward. "You're deluded if you think you possess even an iota of charm, Potter."
"I'm fond of you, too, Avery," she said cheekily.
He rolled his eyes, and tossed the expensive chocolate onto her bedside table. "Don't eat it all in one go. You'll get sick."
Fabian scoffed. "Are you quite done, Mum?" he said, shoving Avery out of the way.
Avery scowled at him, but before he could insult the red-haired twin, Gideon produced a brightly-colored yo-yo from behind his back. Grinning, he offered it to Grace. "Instead of some boring sweets, I'm giving you this fantastic, limited-edition yo-yo device. I had to pay a hundred Galleons for this, you know—"
Grace stared at the yo-yo warily. "That's the one that screams at you when you use it."
Gideon's grin faltered. "Er—"
Fabian stepped in front of his twin and revealed a different present. He pulled a bright green boomerang from the depths of his cloak. "Yo-yo not your style, Potter? No worries, I've got a back-up gift—"
"That's the boomerang that hits the thrower in the face." Grace frowned. "Do you usually give people gifts that are meant to annoy them?"
Gideon set his yo-yo on Grace's bedside. "Ah, you've got us. That was all a—erm—test, of course."
"Of course," Fabian nodded along. "You're a canny one, firstie. I'll give you that."
Grace scrutinized them. "So...you've got something else for me?"
Gideon and Fabian glanced at each other hesitantly.
"Er, sure," Gideon started.
Fabian began rummaging in his pockets. He pulled out one smushed cauldron cake. "Would you like this?"
"Actually," Grace began, easing up on her cot, "since I've seen through your wiles—" Avery snorted at this, "—how about you answer a question for me instead?"
"Sounds easy enough," Gideon said. "What is it you want to know?"
Grace smiled slyly. "What's the Gryffindor password?"
Fabian gave an exaggerated shake of his head. "This again? Haven't you made-up with your brother yet?"
She had actually, but she still needed to prank James back for changing her hair green. She had already begun planning out the rough details of her revenge prank before she'd been hospitalized. She didn't see any need in letting her scheme go to waste.
"Yeah, but—" Grace started, only to be cut off by a horrible screech.
Everyone clamped their hands over their ears and looked to Ted, who was sheepishly holding onto the yo-yo Gideon had set down.
"Sorry," he said hastily. "I just wanted to see how—"
"What in Merlin's name is going on?" Pomfrey cried out, emerging from the back of the Hospital Wing. Her eyes flew over the cluster of seventh-years.
Gideon quickly grabbed the strung-out yo-yo and silenced it. "Just a misunderstanding, Poppy. Won't happen again."
Pomfrey's eyes zeroed in on the yo-yo. "What is that?"
"Just a get-well present for Grace," Fabian said.
"More like a 'get-worse' present," Avery muttered.
"As you well know," Pomfrey said, drawing herself up, "there are only three visitors allowed in the Hospital Wing at a time. I would think a group of seventh-years, two of whom are Prefects —" her gaze traced over Andromeda and Avery, "—would know this."
"Sorry, Madam Pomfrey," Ted said. "We only meant to stop by for a quick visit. We'll be on our way."
Andromeda and Ted waved at Grace and headed out. Avery followed suit. Gideon turned to put back the yo-yo, and Pomfrey's eyes followed him sharply. As soon as the Prewett twins were gone, the matron grabbed the yo-yo.
"I'll have to examine this," Pomfrey said.
"What?" Grace said, brows furrowing. "Why? It's just a joke yo-yo. James has got a hundred like them."
"It's a potentially powerful magical object. It could trigger another episode for you, and I've been told not to take any chances." Pomfrey's expression softened when she caught Grace's cross look. "Don't worry, I'm sure it's perfectly fine. You'll get it back soon, likely by tomorrow morning, and you can play with it then."
With that, Pomfrey returned to her back room. Grace's eyes followed her. It wasn't that Grace actually wanted the yo-yo. Who would actually want a yo-yo that did nothing but scream at you? No, it wasn't that Pomfrey took the yo-yo. It was that Pomfrey had to examine it.
A horrible weight settled in Grace's chest. She had been fine with all these new restrictions in theory, but seeing them enforced was entirely different. Was this really how it was going to be from now on? Every item she got would be checked and screened? Would she ever be allowed to get her hands on something unknown? Would she ever be able to explore?
She shifted in her bed grumpily and grabbed the first thing off her bedside—Avery's box of chocolates. Hastily, she ripped off the packaging, only stopping when she noticed a note tucked underneath the wrapping. She stilled, and eased out the piece of paper, opening it up. Her eyes scanned over Avery's elegant, loopy handwriting: The Gryffindor password for the next two weeks is 'ragamuffin.'
Her grimace gave way to a light smile.
A/N : Sorry about the long break! I was finishing up exams and starting my new job, but now I'm finally free and adjusted. Updates will hopefully be more frequent!
I hope you're still enjoying the story. Thank you for the reviews; they're very nice to read! Please keep letting me know what you think! :)
AutumRabbit : I'm so glad you're enjoying the character dynamics! Seeing/Divination is definitely something I want to explore in this story (although it'll likely come more into play in the sequel I have planned), so stay tuned! I definitely agree with you about Regulus being an interesting character. There's certainly a lot of potential there. I'm happy you that you like what I'm doing with him. :)