To Be A Student has an update today! The scene in Flourish and Blotts has been done as a belated birthday present to ZabuzasGirl. Happy birthday babe! Remember, I'm still taking suggestions for scenes you'd like to see from years two or three, or really anything you think I should cover.
A young boy, no older than five, was curled up in a corner. Wallpaper peeled behind him, and he was sitting on a dingy square of carpet. The book in his lap was thick, with small print. By all rights, a boy that small shouldn't be reading a book like that for another several years. But there he sat, eyes combing the pages, eagerly devouring every word.
I would say I walked over, but I didn't. I didn't seem to have legs. I was just a disembodied presence, like a ghost. I floated my way over, kneeling down next to the boy. I reached out to him, but my arm passed through him like it was nothing. He calmly turned a page and started a new chapter.
"Freak."
I looked up, finally observing the rest of the room. It was perhaps the saddest playroom I had ever seen. The floor was scuffed and dirty hardwood, with squares of carpet like the one the boy sat on scattered around as seating. A single shelf of books was on the wall, not even all of that filled. A few puzzle boxes were piled in the corner next to a chipped tea set, a knotted jump rope, and a stuffed teddy bear that was missing an arm and had a button replacing one eye.
In the opposite corner, two boys stood. They looked to be about seven or eight. One had sandy hair, the other red. There was a pinched, mean quality to their faces. Their eyes were narrowed, fixed on the boy in the corner.
"You're a freak," said the sandy-haired boy. He was staring at the boy reading, my boy. "You hear me? Freak!"
He started towards my boy as his friend dragged over a chair and propped it under the door handle. My boy was trembling now, curled up tightly into the corner, his eyes glued to his book like if he didn't look up they wouldn't really be there. He was pale to begin with, but now he was sheet white with fear.
The sandy-haired boy reached down and wrenched the book out of his hands. Like I had Apparated, I suddenly found myself sitting where my boy had been. I suddenly realized that I was the boy; I was seeing everything through his eyes, hearing the hateful words with his ears. My hands stung from having the book brutally pulled out of them.
"G-Give it back, please," I said against my will. The boy was speaking, but it felt like my jaw was moving, my lips were framing the words.
"G-Give it back!" mocked the boy by the door in a high-pitched voice. I winced as it cut my ears.
"Stebbins," the sandy-haired boy said, tossing the book to his friend. Stebbins caught it. My hands fisted on my knees. I wanted to reach out, to catch the book before Stebbins got it, but I stopped myself.
'It'll hurt worse if I fight back,' whispered a voice in my head. I jolted, realizing that I was hearing what my boy was thinking.
"Little freak," taunted the sandy-haired boy. He chanted, "Mommy died and daddy doesn't want you! Little freak! Monster! No one will ever care about you!"
I wanted to cry out, to say that wasn't true, that people cared about me. Harry cared, the Weasleys cared, Sirius, Snape, Hagrid, Lupin, they all cared. But there was a sinking feeling of acknowledgement in my stomach that I knew came from my boy. People may have cared about me, but no one cared about him. It broke my heart.
I tried to will denial into him, to scream aloud that people cared about him - people had to care, right? - but nothing happened. I was trapped, watching helplessly as my boy drowned in his own self-loathing and bitter hatred of the other boys.
The sandy-haired boy drew back his fist. It slammed into my cheek. My head snapped back and hit the wall. A ringing headache and a throbbing in my cheek set in instantly, feelings I knew from back when Dudley used to knock the stuffing out of me. They were familiar to my boy too. A foot buried itself in my stomach and I choked, doubling over onto my hands and knees. Frantically I gasped for air, the breathless feeling making my mind wild with panic.
"S-Stop!" The sound wrenched out of my mouth before I could stop it. My boy hadn't meant to shout. He knew it would only make the beating worse. He was scared and in pain and he just wanted it to stop…
"I'm not gonna stop," sneered the sandy-haired boy. "I'm not gonna stop unless you make me. You gonna make me, huh? You gonna make me, freak?"
My boy wished to high heaven that he could, that he could make the beatings stop. That the boys would leave him alone, that they would leave, that he could leave… anything that would stop this. The desperation for it welled up inside of him until it was nearly a physical thing, burning in his veins and settling on the back of his tongue.
The boy drew his hand back to hit me again. A wordless cry left my lips and the desperation burst out of me in a great wave of brilliant, beautiful golden light. It raced through the room. It grabbed up the sandy-haired boy and hurled him across the room into the wall. He slid down to huddle at the base, staring back at me in shock and horror.
My boy couldn't believe it. I recognized the feeling, the sensation of magic building and leaving my body. It was accidental magic, the kind children did when they were scared or angry or upset. My boy didn't know that though. He didn't know he was magical. He was stunned by what he had done. It didn't sink in right away, but the more he stared at the boy slumped on the floor, the gaping Stebbins, the more the reality sunk in.
'I am… powerful.'
That frightened look on the sandy-haired boy's face was a look that my boy knew well, one that he had worn many a time. But he wouldn't never wear it again, he swore, because he had the power to make others feel it. He had the power to turn it around, to punish them for what they had done, to make them feel a small portion of what they'd made him feel.
And my boy reveled in that strength, sank into it as easily as a warmth bath at the end of a long, cold winter day. It fueled him, seemed to control him as he rose to his feet, standing as tall as he could. My boy wasn't taller than either of the others, but with the sandy-haired one on the ground, he towered over him. My boy liked that.
"Alright, I stopped you," my boy said, and again my jaw moved. "And if you ever lay a hand on me again, I'll do more than just stop you."
That power was still tingling in his fingertips, coursing through his veins. He could taste it on his tongue, my boy thought dizzily. He stepped off of his square of carpet and approached the door. He stared at Stebbins, at the chair holding the door shut. That power surged again as he stared at the chair.
'Move!' he thought at it viciously, trying to force the same surge of power as before. It came again, but not as he expected. There was no burst of golden light that flung the chair away. No, instead the chair simply vanished, gone without a trace.
Stebbins screamed in fear and staggered away. My boy liked that too. He liked not being the one afraid, the one running. Slowly, he bent down and picked up his dropped book. He opened the door, cast one last glance back at his two ex-tormenters, and smiled at them. Then he was gone.
I snapped awake with a jolt and a gasp. Above me were the swaying lanterns of the girl's dorm. I relaxed, letting out a breath and closing my eyes.
I was no stranger to nightmares. I'd had them for years, but never like this. It was usually the normal sort of nightmares – a dark corridor full of doors behind which ominous things shifted and mumbled, collapsing helplessly and unable to breathe in the middle of the Great Hall and no one doing anything, showing up to a Quidditch match naked...
They were all distant and fuzzy though. The moment I woke up, the details began to slip away. This one was more vivid than any dream I'd ever had before, burned into my mind. I could feel a lingering soreness in my head from hitting the wall, could taste the buzz of magic on my tongue and, most importantly, could feel my boy's delight at finally being able to turn the tables, to be the one on top.
It was a feeling I was familiar with. I had felt the exact same way when I discovered I was a witch and realized what that meant I could do to the Dursleys. I was no stranger to revenge or the desire for it. I completely understood why my boy felt the way he did, but it was still eerie to feel.
The boy was so young to feel that way, and he looked so innocent, with gorgeous grey-blue eyes, smooth porcelain skin, and neatly-combed black hair. He looked like the sort of little boy that might have been able to light up a room with his smile, but I guessed that expression was few and far between on his face.
A coldness coiled in my stomach and made me tremble. In a desperate bid for warmth, I turned onto my side and tucked my hands against my stomach, drawing my knees up to my chest. I used to sleep like that in the cupboard during the winter. I hadn't balled myself up like this in years, but the gesture was comforting and it did ease some of the shill that had settled in my bones. My eyes suddenly felt unbearably heavy, and I was off to sleep again.
Lorena,
Congratulations on the Ridgeback. That was a lucky break, it was. And I'm told you brewed a potion that made you impervious to dragon fire? I didn't even know there was such a thing. Your mother would have probably found it though and used it. She was great at Potions, your mum, did you know?
Harry's written me a couple of times. He said something odd happened several nights ago. He went to take a bath with the egg – no idea – and ended up trapped in a staircase. Moody and Snape nearly found him and got in a row. Apparently Mr. Crouch had broken into Snape's office, Harry saw it on the Marauder's Map. Someone's been stealing from Snape's stores, apparently.
Moody's eye can see through Invisibility Cloaks. He saw Harry there, kept the map and the egg away from Snape, thank Merlin, and got Harry out of the step. Moody was really impressed by the map – owled Remus about that one, we're both proud that an Auror like Moody admires our work – and when he asked, Harry let him borrow it.
Apparently Moody's been searching Snape's office himself. Harry's convinced Snape put your names in the Goblet of Fire. I'd like to agree, but I'm not an idiot. I know Snape's smart enough to realize just writing Potter would toss you both to the banshees and he likes you too much to risk you.
How's it going with your Patronus studies? Animagi? Let me know. Maybe you can come and stay with me this summer and we can work on your transformations.
Much love,
Snuffles
I tossed the letter aside, furious beyond belief. Harry thought Snape put our names in the Goblet of Fire? Just like how Snape was the one who was trying to steal the Sorcerer's Stone and Malfoy was the Heir of Slytherin? It would be a cold day in hell before Harry Potter managed to actually figure out who was up to something.
And he was trusting Moody? After how Moody had drawn attention to my scar? He knew full well that I hated Moody and yet all the old loon had to do was ask to borrow the Marauder's Map – my Marauder's Map – and Harry handed it over without question. I remembered vividly how furious he'd been when Snape used the Invisibility Cloak to get into the Shrieking Shack. But of course, he was Harry Potter, he could do whatever he wanted, he was always right.
"Someone's going to die," Zabini announced. "Potter, do you know how scary you look?"
"Good," I snarled, and crammed the letter into my pocket. The backs of my fingers brushed against my wand. It was incredibly tempting to just nail Harry with a jinx from across the hall – but no, that could be anonymous. I wanted everyone to know exactly who was pissed at him.
I stood up sharply from the Slytherin table and started over to the Gryffindor table, a scowl on my face. I got several curious or unnerved looks as I passed others but I ignored them. AS I drew closer, Ron looked up and saw my face. He paled and whispered something to Harry across the table.
Harry turned around, a smile on his face. "Hey Re- gack!"
I seized Harry by the tie and hauled him off the bench. He hastened to scramble after me as I started out of the Great Hall, shamelessly dragging my spluttering brother behind me. I could hear the Slytherins howling with laughter and smirked – glad I could amuse them.
We left the Great Hall and I dragged Harry down a corridor into an empty classroom, tossing him inside and shutting the door behind us. I locked it and stood in front of the door, pulling out my wand and crossing my arms. Green sparks danced warningly on the tip of my wand as I tapped it against my bicep.
"Lorena, what the hell?" Harry demanded as he straightened up and faced me, anger and embarrassment on his face. He reached up to fix his hair and adjust his tie. "That hurt!"
"Written to Sirius lately?" I asked icily. "Because I got a letter from him this morning. And he told me the funniest story… Apparently, you gave the Marauder's Map to Moody when he kept your stupid self from getting caught stuck in a stair the other night."
"He asked to borrow it, Rena what was I supposed to do?" Harry asked sarcastically. "He had just saved me from Snape and Filch-"
"Oh, quit whining and just take a detention like a man." I rolled my eyes. "Did it not occur to you that the map is mine-"
"Ours!" Harry protested hotly. I raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, really? Is the invisibility Cloak ours too?" I demanded. "I hate Moody, Harry, or have you forgotten our first class?"
"That was in September!" Harry cried, looking at me in disbelief. "That was so long ago!"
I gaped. "Where's the defensive brother who wanted to try and get him fired for that? What, he can be fired but me being a bit testy with him still, that's too far? That's where you draw the line?"
"Look, I'm sorry I gave Moody the map," Harry said placatingly. I shook my head.
"No, Harry," I said firmly. "You remember how pissed you were when Snape used the Invisibility Cloak?" His eyes flamed at the memory of it. "Exactly. That's how I feel. The difference is, I didn't just toss the cloak at Snape and tell him to have fun without even asking you if it was okay. You did."
"I'm sorry, alright?" Harry insisted. "But you shouldn't have dragged me out of the Great Hall like that, it was embarrassing and-"
"Oh?" I raised my eyebrows and looked at him innocently as he hit on exactly why I did what I did. "Was it embarrassing? Did I not consider your feelings?"
"No, you didn't," Harry snapped.
"Weird, I'd swear that's exactly what my problem with you was!" I yelled. Harry scowled as he realized what I was doing.
"Why do you always have to do this, try and teach people a lesson? Why can't you just let things go?"
I stared at him incredulously. "I should let things go? Me?" I laughed. That was rich coming from him. "You're the one who tries to pin everything even remotely suspicious on Snape just because he's mean to you in class! If anyone here should be yelled at about holding grudges it's you, Harry!"
"Well at least if I do have a grudge I don't feel the need to make a big spectacle out of it and draw attention to myself like you do!" Harry said hotly. "You can't let anything lie; you have to make some big stupid gesture that's supposed to teach them a lesson!"
"I draw attention to myself?" I repeated, eyes wide. "Maybe I should be more like you? Excuse me while I go rush off and stick my nose into things that don't concern me, nearly getting myself and breaking about a dozen school rules in the process."
"That's completely different," Harry disagreed. "I'm trying to help people, you're just being petty!"
"Petty?" I shrieked. Red throbbed at the edges of my vision. "Was it petty when I got back at those Gryffindors for hexing my housemates and putting them in the Hospital Wing back in first year?"
"You turned their hair colors, it wasn't exactly your most mature moment!"
"I should have, what, mumbled with my friends about how they were the root of all evil in the world?" I scoffed. "That's definitely more mature."
"There's plenty of evidence against Snape," Harry snapped. "You just won't believe it because he's completely brainwashed you-"
"Brainwashed me?" I repeated incredulously. "If anything you're the one who's brainwashed! You think my whole house is up to at least three murder plots at any given moment, because… why? Because we've done so much to you? Take off those lovely scarlet glasses of yours, brother-mine, they don't do your intelligence any favors," I sneered.
Harry's face went dark. I knew I had just jumped over all kinds of lines but I couldn't bring myself to care.
"You think just because you brewed some potions you're so much smarter than me," Harry snapped, dragging a hand through the air. I tilted my head and smirked.
"Not just because of the potions, there's plenty of other evidence…"
"I figured out the dragons before you did-" Harry protested. I snorted.
"Figured out? What did you figure out? Hagrid gift-wrapped them for you!"
Harry threw up his hands. "Do you know how hard it was to learn that Summoning Charm in time?"
"You mean the spell you should have learned for class, if you bothered? Yes, I'm sure it was very hard, particularly with Hermione coaching you. I assume she did…"
"Yes, because that's what friends do!"
"And yet I got past without any friends muttering answers in my ear."
"You still got fewer points," Harry reminded me warningly. I narrowed my eyes.
"Would you like to know something interesting, Harry?" I asked silkily. "I have figured out the egg. In fact, I figured it out before the New Year. I have a plan worked out, a potion brewing… What have you done? Do you even know what you're facing?" Harry opened his mouth, but his eyes were uncertain. That was the answer I needed.
"I figured out the Black Lake-"
"No, shut up. You're going to listen to me, because I want you to understand something. I tried to warn you about the dragons. I broke the rules and cheated trying to keep you safe. You knew about the dragons, you knew, but you didn't tell me. You didn't bother to mention 'oh, hey Rena, might want to look into fire proofing spells, we're going to have to fight a bloody dragon!' You didn't think of me once, Harry, not once!" I finished brokenly.
Somewhere along the lines this had turned from me being furious to me being heartbroken. Maybe I was being overly sensitive, but I didn't think so. This was just the straw that broke the camel's back. Was it wrong, just once, for Harry to think of me? To think how his actions might make me feel? No, it was always all about him and whatever moral tear he was on at the time.
Harry's face fell slightly. "Rena."
"Shut up," I said thickly. "Get out."
"No, listen-"
"Get out!" I roared. The door behind me banged open. It was the first time I'd used accidental magic since Aunt Marge. Harry's face paled slightly when he saw it. He took one look at my face and must have realized that I was done talking. He moved towards the door, pausing just beyond it.
"What happened?" he asked quietly. "We used to be so close… What changed, Rena?"
I smirked bitterly. "We did." I flicked my wand and the door slammed shut and locked with a click. I leaned back against it and slid down, my eyes closed and my head tilted back. I reached up, running my hand through my hair.
I would normally never say things like that to Harry. He was my brother and I loved him, really I did. It was just that I was starting to wonder if he loved me too. What hurt even more was that I didn't doubt he loved Hermione and Ron. I had tried so hard to be friends with them, not because I particularly enjoyed them but for him. But what did he do? He insulted my mentor, the one man who had never faltered in his belief in me. He insulted my house and my housemates without ever bothering to get to know them.
I curled into a ball against the door, curled my knees to my chest, dropping my head onto my kneecaps, and let out a sigh. The times where we would tell each other everything were gone. We didn't talk, we weren't twins like we used to be. Those times ended long ago.
I was only now realizing they couldn't truly come back.
It was more difficult to get through the school at night without being seen now that I didn't have the map, but I was completely comfortable with it. I'd done it for two years before I got the map, after all. It just took longer and was a little more nerve-wracking. I had a near miss, only just diving into a niche behind a tapestry in time to avoid Sinistra patrolling with her wand raised high.
I kept going up through the castle and stopped in front of the Fat Lady's portrait. She was snoring away, her mouth lolling open. Grinning, I reached out and flicked the portrait in the nose. The Fat Lady came away with an indignant yelp, casting around furiously.
"Wha- where? Who? You!" she said, enraged, as she saw me there. I grinned.
"Guess what?"
The Fat Lady groaned aloud. "Oh not again-"
"Lionheart," I said smugly, and she swung open against her will. I crept through the portrait hole and into the Common Room, thankfully, there was no one there except for a couple of seventh years passed out in the corner over their notes. I winced. I did not envy them for trying to study this year – people were too excited by the Triwizard Tournament to be calm and quiet.
I crept up the stairs to Harry's dorms, listening to snores coming from behind the doors. I passed. I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself, and opened the door to Harry's dorm.
As expected, the floor was covered in a fine spray of parchment, textbooks, broken quills, and discarded boxers. Seamus and Dean snored away while Neville was passed out with a Herbology book over his face. Ron seemed to be trying to smother himself, his face crushed into his pillow. And there, sleeping innocently at the end of a row of beds, was my brother.
Scowling, I approached his trunk and carefully flipped it open, digging around carefully. I was cautious not to let papers rustle or books slip too badly out of place for fear that any noise might wake him up. Finally, my fingers brushed the watery, airy fabric of the Invisibility Cloak. Grinning to myself, I grabbed it and tugged, pulling the cloak free and draping it over myself. As a last touch, I pulled out a piece of parchment from my pocket and shut Harry's trunk, setting the note innocently on top.
It was made of cut-out letters from the Daily Prophet, much like a Muggle ransom note, which is exactly what it was.
You will never see your beloved cloak again unless you return the map to its rightful owner.
Harry may have called my retaliations childish, but in this case I felt it was justified. Standing up, concealed by the cloak, I left the Gryffindor Common Room and strode calmly back to the dungeons, invisible and unseen.
Predictably, Harry wasn't exactly pleased with my antics. He stormed over to the Slytherin table the next morning, annoyance written on his face. My year mates stared in surprise as he walked over. I had approached the Gryffindor table before, but Harry had never come to me.
"Give it back," Harry growled, standing behind me. I didn't turn around.
"Give what back?" I asked innocently, taking a bite of my bacon. "Lost something?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Rena, this isn't funny," Harry huffed. "Now give it back."
"Not until my property is returned to me," I said coolly, sipping my pumpkin juice.
"What am I supposed to do, just ask for it back?" Harry demanded, throwing up his hands. "He helped me Rena, and he wants to use it!"
"Odd," I said softly. "Someone helped me and he wanted to use it too. But you didn't want him anywhere near it."
I could feel Harry glaring at my back, and I could feel the eyes of the rest of my year mates fixed on me. I kept my own stare fixed on my plate and slowly cut off a piece of my pancakes, placing it on my tongue and chewing.
"What's the alternative?" Harry snapped at me. "Stealing it back?"
"Reclaiming," I corrected, setting my fork aside and turning to face him finally, crossing my legs. "And it's not difficult, Harry."
Harry's eyes widened. "You… you seriously want me to steal it back from a teacher? Are you mad?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Interesting question. I broke in the Gryffindor Tower specifically to get collateral. I want my property back Harry," I said firmly. "I don't care how you get it, just do, or else you won't get your own belongings back."
"You can't do that!" Harry protested. I narrowed my eyes at him challengingly.
"I can't? Why? I have just as much right to it as you do."
Harry stared back at me. "Is this because you're jealous that I got it and you didn't?" he asked incredulously. I raised an eyebrow.
"Congratulations, it only took you four years to figure it out," I said tartly. Harry shook his head.
"That's ridiculous! You've got the-" his eyes flicked up, sending dark looks to all the Slytherins who were listening in. "You know what you've got," he said quietly.
"I got what I got by sheer dumb luck," I reminded him. "Which is surprising, really, as dumb luck seems to be more your style. Emphasis on dumb."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "You want to have this fight again? Right here?"
"No, I don't," I disagreed. I stood up, staring Harry down. "I've told you what I want. Get. It. Back. Until then, we don't have anything else to discuss. Good luck with your egg, I do hope you don't drown," I said vaguely, sitting back down and turning back to my breakfast.
I heard Harry make a disgusted sound behind me and watched as he stormed back to the Gryffindor table. Hermione and Ron welcomed him back, both of them shooting me looks. Hermione was looking at me beseechingly, Ron accusingly. I stared back at my plate, refusing to be ashamed. Harry had no right to do what he'd done.
"Potter," Nott said slowly. "What was that?"
"Clearly even her brother's figured out what a nuisance Potter is," Parkinson sniffed. I flicked my wand at her and the jug of syrup in front of her exploded, showering her in sticky, thick syrup. "Damn it Potter!" Parkinson howled as she scrubbed at her messy hair. "Not again!"
She stood up and fled the Great Hall to get cleaned up. I watched her go with a small smirk before turning back to the rest of the table.
"I feel loads better, anyone else?"
"You're not getting out of this one," Lily said sternly.
"Yeah, what did you do?" Tracey asked, casting a nervous look over her shoulder at the Gryffindor table. "Your brother seemed really mad."
I took a deep breath and pursed my lips. "Harry and I both have something of our fathers' that we're fond of. Harry borrowed mine and got caught sneaking around with it. Moody was interested, so Harry let him borrow it." I glared at the Head Table where Moody sat, gulping something from his flask. I wondered how hard it would be to get my hands on it and add some Puking Potion. My eyes flicked to Harry, who was stalking from the Great Hall. "I stole Harry's inheritance until he gets mine back. He's miffed."
"You broke into Gryffindor Tower again?" Daphne demanded in disbelief. I blinked at her.
"I do that a lot. You people are always surprised."
"Lorena?"
I turned. Hermione and Ron stood behind me, both looking highly uncomfortable.
"The Mudblood and the blood traitor," Daphne said snidely. "What do you scum want?"
"Greengrass," I said warning, twisting in my seat to face them fully. "Well? I assume you're here as Harry's second line of defense?"
Ron opened his mouth, but Hermione quickly and not-so-subtly trod on his foot to shut him up.
"Harry's stressed about the Second Task right now, you understand," Hermione began coaxingly. "Surely you understand? Who can blame him if he wasn't thinking right?"
"I think her problem is more that he doesn't think ever," Zabini called from a little ways down the table. Hermione looked up at him and then back at me expectantly. I raised an eyebrow.
"What, I'm not going to correct him, he's right."
"Look Lorena," Ron snapped. "Just give him back the cl-"
"Ron!" Hermione hissed, looking around the table worriedly. She glanced back at me. "You really should give it back though, Lorena. I'll admit that Harry was in the wrong, but haven't you ever heard that two wrongs-?"
"If you say don't make a right I will hex you," I said shortly. "Maybe this time Harry will learn a lesson. He's gotten away with breaking a lot of rules and he's been rewarded or gotten out of it on dumb luck. This time he used my property to do it, and I don't appreciate it."
"So have you!" Ron said hotly. I raised an eyebrow at him.
"Really?" I challenged. "Is that why I'm covered in scars but Harry's the one with an award for special services to the school?"
"You two need to leave."
All of us turned in surprise to see Malfoy standing up, his eyes glittering darkly as he stared at Hermione and Ron. Hermione took a step closer to Ron, who shifted subtly so that she was behind his shoulder.
"Sod off, ferret," Ron sneered. "This isn't your business."
"I think you made it my business when you decided to come to my house table and yell at my house mate for something she sounds like she's completely justified in doing," Malfoy replied coldly.
"Malfoy," I hissed. "Sit down, this isn't your problem-"
"Yeah Malfoy, sit down," Ron jeered. "This isn't your-"
"Don't get too smug, he's right, you two need to leave," I snapped at Ron, whose eyes widened slightly as he looked at me in disbelief.
"You're seriously sliding with that git?" he demanded, pointing at Malfoy. "When you're treating Harry the way you are? I don't see you helping him with this tournament!"
I narrowed my eyes. "Be very careful, Weasley," I said softly. Ron's eyes widened. It had been a very long time since I'd called him anything other than Ron except in jest. "I've been on my brother's side since before you even met, and I've done far more or him than you ever will. Don't you dare get accusatory."
"Ron," Hermione whispered, tugging at his sleeve. "She did help… Remember?"
"Leave, Weasley," Malfoy said icily, taking a step forward. His hand lingered pointedly in his pocket. "Or I will make you."
Hermione tugged desperately on Ron's sleeve, her eyes wide. "Come on Ron, we don't want to start anything…" Her eyes drifted up to the Head Table worriedly. Ron shot Malfoy a disgusted glare, gave me one only slightly less intense, and then allowed Hermione to tug him away.
I turned around in my seat, allowing myself to bury my face in my hands and let out a long, shuddering sight before I lifted my head and folded my hands neatly in my lap.
"I don't know what you took, but it must be important," Zabini whistled.
"You have no idea," I replied, before twisting to glare at Malfoy. "And you, just what the hell were you thinking?"
Malfoy's eyes widened in disbelief. "Excuse you Potter, I was helping you get rid of your brother's sorry friends."
"Did I ask for your help?" I snapped. "I can take care of myself. The last person I need fighting my battles is you, Malfoy," I snapped, abandoning my breakfast and throwing my bag over my shoulder. I stormed from the Great Hall, ignoring the gaping Malfoy behind me.
It was mid-way through January, and time for another Hogsmeade trip. My water-repelling potion was almost complete but for a last ingredient, and then I'd be able to bottle it to be poured over my glasses later. I had ridiculous amounts of gillyweed still, and I was looking into a way to carry extra with me down into the lake, outside of just shoving it down my swimsuit…
My secret swimming lessons were going well. I was fully confident about moving in the water now. Granted, the lake would be different than the pool in the prefect's bathroom, but I was satisfied with my abilities. I'd be able to get around with relative ease, barring any unforeseen interference.
I also had something else to look into. I had been assaulted by something painfully obvious the night before right as I was about to drift off to sleep – I was going to be diving into a lake. In Scotland. In February. Cold did not even begin to describe what the temperature of the water would be like.
My plan was to brew a simple Warming Draught – it settled a warmth in the stomach of the drinker, rather like downing a gulp of hot chocolate, only the effect lingered. It would keep my core temperature up, and I could use normal warming spells on my extremities.
I needed to stop by the apothecary and get more fire seeds, the last of which I'd used up in potions two weeks previous. In addition, I had to get the rest of the Animagus books from Tomes and Scrolls. I planned to do that, pop by Honeydukes for some chocolate, and then nestle down in the apprentice's lab by a fire and get started on the first of the two books I still had to read.
"Potter."
I turned around as a growl of a voice said my name. Moody was stumping towards me. I narrowed my eyes. I'd managed to avoid him quite nicely ever since the Mal-ferret incident. Outside of class, I didn't interact with the man at all, and I was content with that.
"Professor," I replied with chilly politeness. "Can I help you?"
In addition, I was still very very pissed that he had the Marauder's Map. Harry hadn't returned it to me. He hadn't even spoken to me since that day at breakfast. We just shot each other dark looks in the hallway. The whole school had noticed and kept asking me why we were on the outs. I sent the curious running with glares even darker than the ones Harry got.
"I wanted to know how you're coming on that egg," Moody grunted, his magical eye whizzing about in seemingly random directions before coming to rest on me. The full power of that wide blue stare was incredibly off-putting – I couldn't help but wonder if that was part of the intention.
"I've solved it, sir," I said shortly. Moody raised an eyebrow.
"Have you?" he said thoughtfully. "And I don't suppose you have a plan in place?"
"As it happens," I snapped, "I do. All that's left is to brew a potion. I was on my way to get ingredients for it if you don't mind." I gestured pointedly towards the door, where Filch was checking students out of the castle.
Moody nodded. "Go on Potter." I turned to leave. "Just one more thing."
I turned back to the Defense professor with a deep scowl. "What?" I demanded, only a modicum of respect still left in my tone. Moody's gaze was knowing as his magical eye flicked up and down the length of me. I was suddenly very self-conscious in my jeans, leather riding boots, and hand-knitted scarf.
"Have you helped your brother out with his egg?" Moody asked, peering at me intently, like he was asking for the answer to the meaning of life. I raised an eyebrow.
"Of course not, sir," I replied saccharinely. "That would be cheating." I feigned horror at the very idea. Moody snorted.
"Very well Potter, off you go. Oh, and I believe this is yours…" From his pocket, Moody drew out a very familiar battered piece of parchment. I snatched it from his eagerly and pressed it to my chest like it was my newborn child, delighted beyond belief to have it back in my possession. I quickly whipped out my wand and prodded the parchment with it.
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good." I didn't entirely trust that Moody had handed me back the real thing, but I watched in relief as ink spiraled across the parchment, revealing the familiar Marauders header. "Mischief managed."
In a flash I was gone, saluting Filch as I stalked past him as I shoved the parchment into my pocket. I was down the steps and out of the castle before he could stop me for a thorough going-over and warning not to bring back any Zonko's products. I now had a new task ahead of me for the day – to get the cloak back to Harry.
The apothecary in Hogsmeade was very, very familiar with me. J Pippin's Potions was the first store I'd stopped in upon getting to Hogsmeade and ever since then I'd popped in frequently to replace ingredients and to pick up the latest issue of Potion Master Monthly.
"Hello Miss Pippin," I called as I entered the shop. The original J Pippin had died several centuries ago but his descendants still owned the franchise.
"Hello, Lorena!" called Miss Pippin, a pretty, pink-cheeked, red-haired woman in her twenties. She was busily packaging up an old witch's shopping at the counter. "It's been a while. Have you stopped brewing?" she asked teasingly as she took the old woman's money and handed her the bag.
"Never," I swore as I approached the barrels of ingredients lining the walls of the shop. I picked up a small drawstring bag from a table and began scooping out fire seeds into the bag. I paused and looked longingly at the unicorn tail hair hanging in long, neat hanks from the rafters. I'd always wanted to work with it but I could never find a potion I could reasonably use to justify the expense.
"The day Lorena Potter stops brewing is the day Britain falls," Miss Pippin said cheekily as I grabbed a bottle of powdered spine of lionfish – I was running dangerously low from potions in class – and made my way to the counter. I snagged my usual issue of Potion Master Monthly from the display and laid it all out.
Miss Pippin gave me an amount and put my purchases in a brown paper bag, trading me for the money.
"I heard about the tournament," she said sympathetically. "Rotten luck, isn't it? But I hear you're doing well."
"Yes, I think I'm doing alright," I agreed. "Have you ever heard of a potion called Sine Fraxinus?"
Miss Pippin's mouth twisted thoughtfully as she leaned forward on the counter, displaying her ample cleavage unknowingly. Aside from Madam Rosemerta, Miss Pippin was the shopkeeper in Hogsmeade the boys most wanted to see.
"I remember reading mention of it," Miss Pippin recalled. "In one of my granddad's old books. Something that went out with swords and armor, wasn't it?"
"It repels dragon fire," I explained. "Only good for one use, though."
"Good Merlin." Miss Pippin's eyes grew wide. "Is that how you did it?" I nodded. "Where'd you get the recipe?" she asked eagerly.
"A ghost in the castle, if you can believe it," I said wryly.
"Huh. Well I'll be an augurey's aunt," Miss Pippin mumbled. "I wonder why they don't use it today? I mean, we have dragon reservations," she mused aloud.
That was something I'd considered as well. "The best I can figure is that hunting dragons went out nearly two hundred years before the first dragon reservations were established," I explained. "It's completely possible that the potion was simply forgotten in the intervening years. From what I understand it wasn't easy to find a Potion Master who knew how to brew it either."
"Really, why's that?" Miss Pippin asked curiously. She wrinkled her nose. "Is it one of those that's finicky about the stirring? Got to do it exactly right?"
I shook my head. "A bit, yeah, but you also need phoenix tears for it."
Miss Pippin let out a low whistle, eyes wide. "Well that explains it then! Not everyone has a helpful headmaster with a phoenix for a familiar."
"No kidding," I said drily.
"I bet you're one of the only people alive today that can brew it then," Miss Pippin said, looking me over curiously. "And to think you're only fourteen!" I nodded in agreement. "You should look into marketing it."
That was an interesting idea. Miss Pippin was right – I was probably one of very few, if not the only person, who could conceivably brew Sine Fraxinus. And with the dragon reserves today, people would be ordering it by the bucket load to prevent any accidents. Dumbledore might be willing to provide the tears, but even if he wasn't, all I'd need to do was achieve my Animagus form and then I'd be golden…
"Just don't forget me when you're rich and famous," Miss Pippin said wryly.
I nodded and bid her goodbye, the idea swimming around in my head. It was a brilliant idea, in fact. Sine Fraxinus was something that wouldn't – couldn't – come cheap, and because I was the only available source I could set the prices wherever I wanted. And the dragon reserves would most likely be able to pay nearly anything, considering most of them were government-funded.
I was still considering as I retrieved my two books from Tomes and Scrolls and headed to Honeydukes. As I browsed the selection of chocolate, I considered. I even had an in – Charlie Weasley. He would know who would be interested in the potion and could put me in contact with them.
The only thing was that I could have to wait until probably at least the end of fifth year to do anything about it. After all, admitting I could brew Sine Fraxinus would be admitting that I had known going into the First Task that I would be facing dragons. Better to let the tournament end and let it fade from memory a little.
Besides, who knew? By the end of fifth year I might have made significant progress with my Animagus transformations. If I could even just get my eyes to change I could get the tears myself. Then I wouldn't even need Dumbledore, which would honestly be preferable.
I was grinning excitedly about the idea as I picked up a large bar of milk chocolate, and, deciding that I deserved to treat myself, grabbed a second one before approaching the counter.
Honeydukes was packed as usual and there was a bit of a line to checkout. It joined the end of the queue and bouncing on my toes, biting the inside of my cheek contemplatively. So it was a long-term plan, but it could very easily kick-start a career as a Potions Mistress after school.
I knew Hogwarts encouraged students to pursue their respective fields of interest. I knew there was a seventh year Ravenclaw girl who was doing correspondence research with a Herbology group in Sweden and she was making some decent money from her salary. And there were a half-dozen older students who had published papers in magazines. It was completely possible I could run a business from Hogwarts – look at Fred and George marketing their Canary Creams and Ton-Tongue Toffees.
I'd need a lab though. Maybe if I explained my plans to Snape he'd let me keep using the apprentice's lab. I was growing incredibly fond of the place and if I could justify my use of it with the attempt to start a business, it was possible I'd have at least a fighting chance of being able to keep using it. After all, like Snape had said, there was no one else who needed it…
"Potter."
Jerked out of my thoughts, I spun around. Malfoy stood behind me. I sighed and rolled my eyes, turning back to face the front. There were still three people in front of me. I tapped my toes impatiently, hoping they'd hurry up.
"Are you trying to buy their entire stock? I know you like to read Potter, but Merlin…" I looked around as Malfoy tapped the bag in my hand emblazoned with the Tomes and Scrolls name.
"Some of the books I wanted had to be ordered," I said shortly before turning to face forward again, hoping that would shut him up. I should have known better – nothing on earth could shut Malfoy up when he wanted to talk.
"You still trying to become an Animagus? Potter, I think you should be more concerned about getting through the tournament alive," Malfoy stressed. I rolled my eyes.
"Malfoy, I've got the next task on lock," I huffed. "Trust me, the tournament is handled for the moment. I'm just researching after all."
"How's it going, the research?"
"Alright," I replied absently as the pair of Hufflepuffs at the front of the line moved off with their arms loaded with sweets. I smirked slightly – third years wanting to try everything at once. They'd regret it by tonight, when they were in the Hospital Wing clutching their stomachs. The line moved forward and I continued carelessly, "I've gotten through most of the books McGonagall recommended for me except for these two and one other. I'm understanding it well with only a little additional reading."
"So you're really trying for this, eh?" Malfoy asked in amusement. "What made you curious?"
I could hardly tell him that my godfather was an Animagus or that my dad was too. So in reply I shrugged and said, "It's a useful thing to be able to do," which wasn't a lie.
One red-eyed Ravenclaw girl moved off with her box of candies and a sad expression on her face. I winced. Definite recent breakup, off to soothe her broken heart with chocolate. There was a reason I didn't bother with relationships…
I approached the counter and laid down my candy bars. The man behind the counter rang them up and gave me a total. I reached into my money pouch and dug around for the appropriate coins, looking up as an arm reached around me. I blinked at the sight of a pale hand placing down the total. Startled, I whipped around and looked at Malfoy questioningly.
He shrugged innocently in reply.
"What are you doing?" I asked suspiciously. Malfoy rolled his eyes.
"Can't a bloke be nice?"
"Oh, is this your good deed for the year?" I asked drily. Malfoy's eyes shuttered, and it was only when it was gone that I realized there had been an amused sort of gleam in his eye, there had been since the moment he asked me about the books and I replied.
"Consider it a last gift to a woman going to her grave. See you after the Second Task, Potter, or… probably not."
With a snarl I swept the chocolate bars into the bag and stomped from the candy store, burrowing my chin into my scarf to keep warm as I started the trek back up to the castle. The weirdest part was that Malfoy was being nice. We'd been having a civil conversation until I ruined it by mouthing off. Was Malfoy, dare I think it, actually maturing?
I shook my head. No, definitely not. He was probably just in a good mood and deigned to lower himself enough to converse with the halfblood Potter.
Harry was surprised to find a brown-wrapped package sitting atop his trunk. He picked it up and sat down on the edge of his bed, slitting the paper with his wand and pulling it out of the way. A grin spread across his face as the watery fabric of the Invisibility Cloak spilled out across his lap. Harry tossed the paper away and ran his hands over the fabric, relieved to have it back.
His hand hit paper and Harry plucked out a note. He recognized Lorena's spiky, slanted handwriting marching across the paper.
Harry,
Maybe it wasn't the best tactic, and for that I'm sorry, but it did work. Moody gave me the map this morning.
Sorry.
Rena
Harry smiled slightly. He was glad Lorena had the map back, especially since it meant the return of his cloak. He was also pleased to see that she'd signed the note 'Rena' instead of the usual LP she used, and that she'd added a quick sorry to the end.
Their fight was still vivid in his mind. Much as he didn't like to admit it, Harry knew he was in the wrong. In addition to that, he also realized there were a lot of times in the past he'd made things hard on Lorena when he didn't mean to, just because he wasn't thinking. It wasn't like he'd tried to make her life difficult.
Then again, she hadn't exactly been kind in that classroom. Harry had been struck in the gut by the realization that he didn't know his own twin sister as well as he thought he did. He had no idea she was carrying that kind of hurt and anger inside of her. He knew that his feelings against the Dursleys had mostly vanished with the realization that he had Hogwarts to be his home. He'd always assumed Lorena felt the same.
Harry lay back on his bed, stuffing the cloak under his pillow. He considered seeking Lorena out and asking her forgiveness, explaining he didn't mean to hurt her like he had. But she was nearly impossible to find most days, and no way was he going down to the Slytherin Common room and asking after her.
She had to know, Harry told himself. Lorena had to know he never meant to hurt her.