Emotions crashed within her.
"What do you want?"
"Wanted to check on you."
"I'm fine."
"Right."
Her eyes welled up. She cried hot, angry tears. Douglas came over and put an arm on her shoulders, but she just stood stiffly. He stepped back. She looked down the corridor, wiping her eyes on her sleeves.
"Hey. C'mon, let's go for a walk," he said.
"No. I'm fine, thanks."
"Really? I haven't seen you all month. C'mon. We'll make it a quick one."
His voice pulled at her. She sniffed, and pressed the blearyness out of her vision. The truth was, she really was glad to see him. And a walk would be a good change of pace from all this - without anything stupid to worry about. And at the very least, she didn't want to go back in Gryffindor right now. Wordlessly, she started forward.
"That's the ticket!" said Douglas.
"I'm not allowed out on the grounds, by the way."
"Then we won't go on the grounds!" he said. "You want to tell me what happened?"
"No."
"Alright."
She went straight for the stairwell. He strode along beside her, hands in his pockets. They went down into the rest of the castle and passed a group of big Gryffindor boys.
"Ooo, looks like something's slithered up from the dungeon," jeered one.
Anger flared - but she'd just about run dry by this point. However, Douglas called after them -
"And looks like someone needs to touch up on circular income flow!"
The boys hooted and clapped the first on the back.
"But seriously, stop by office hours!" Douglas went on, walking backward. "The lot of you! All I get are Ravenclaws, it's boring as hell. Come bother me!"
The boys laughed and made empty promises, then the next second they were up the stairs and out of sight.
"Those were sixth-years," Douglas told her, grinning, as they went down the next hallway. "I'm an assistant for their Trades & Treasury class. Jacob, the one who called out, lost more than a few points on his last quiz, sorry to say…"
She made to respond, but the words caught in her throat. If she made a sound, she thought she'd tip right over and everything would go spilling.
"You're such a dork," she forced.
It didn't stop him smiling.
They went down a few more floors. It was good to have him there. Other Gryffindors and some Ravenclaws passed without trouble. She started to feel like a bit of a prat for not saying much, but with everything that just happened whirling in her head she didn't want to speak. First blasting Potter in front of everyone, then fighting with Riley, which she hadn't expected. Then she'd lost her backpack and wand too, they'd been tugged off her at some point. Hopefully somebody official would confiscate them and keep them from knocking around. She thought of her friends. What would Kendra think of her? Or the other girls, or Zach, or anyone else who had seen? Were Kev and Ashley there? Were Trip, and his buddies? She looked at her feet. Her cheeks prickled, and she felt her mood darkening.
They went down stairs and past torches and staring portraits. Douglas nodded at a few passerby and tried to get her interested in secret passageways or classrooms she wouldn't have to use for another three years. They came to the third floor, and her stomach suddenly tightened in hunger: the Great Hall. Wafts of savory food were drifting up the stairwells, and despite all the things on her mind, the smells squeezed in. Her mouth watered.
"Have you eaten?" said Douglas, as if on cue.
"No. But my friends might've grabbed something for me."
"You didn't come to dinner?"
"I was out at the stadium."
"Ah, getting in some Quidditch practice?"
Immediately, she realized she'd given him an avenue to conversation.
"Yeah."
"Nice robes, by the way. Where'd you get them?"
She sighed.
"Borrowed 'em off a friend. Not that it matters anymore."
"Right."
There was a knowingness in his voice. She looked up at him.
"You heard?"
"Yeah," he laughed.
Laughed. Glaring, she started down the next stairwell.
"I was just wrapping up my Communications homework, you see," he said, following behind her - "when an enormous, silver bird swooped onto the table. It was quite a shock. Nearly knocked over my inkwell!"
She slowed, realizing. She pictured him in the Slytherin common room (which looked like a big office with a lot of cubicles, with drain pipes up on the walls where there should've been windows), and Nort and Samson by him at his desk. Then Professor Smith's eagle swooping in and announcing to the whole place that she'd just ballsed things up and made a complete show of herself. Brilliant - one more reason for the entire school to think she was crazy.
"Sorry if I embarrassed you," she said heatedly. "What'd he go and tell you for?"
"No reason. Just part of policy. It's a bit much, I know, but they're really cracking down on discipline this year. Last year too, come to think of it. And, maybe a few years before that..."
He was trying to be funny, but she wasn't in the mood and plodded down the last stairwell into the Entry Hall. Immediately she went for the doors of the Great Hall, but stopped on the threshold, finding the tables cleared and only a few stragglers sitting at each of the four tables. Disappointment sank in her chest. She felt herself closing up.
Douglas came up beside her.
"Ah, shame. Well there's always the kitchens," he said.
"You know how to get in them?"
"Pfah," he chortled. "Do I know how to get in them, she asks…"
By her feet a large, gray cat slipped past to look for scraps.
"Hold on," said Douglas. "I've an idea. Follow me."
He turned around and went straight for the main doors. She stared after him.
"What…?"
"Come on!"
"I can't go onto the grounds," she reminded him, jogging to catch up.
"We're not going on the grounds," he said. "Trust me. We'll take the drive down to the village, it doesn't count."
"The village?"
"Yep. Hogsmeade."
Her eyes widened - "Hogsmeade?"
"That's the one!"
"I thought we weren't allowed to go until third year?"
"You're not," he said. "And even then, it's only on particular weekends. I, however, happen to be a seventh year - and more importantly, am of age - and as such, have certain privileges awarded to me. One of which is that I may go wherever I please, whenever I choose to do so. And since you're under my care, that means we can pretty much do whatever we want."
He kicked open the front doors with a lackluster thud (they didn't open more than a few feet) and she slipped out behind him. The cool evening air washed over her.
"Isn't coming-of-age eighteen?" she asked.
"It's a year earlier for us," he said.
"Huh."
The grounds were turning night fast. She took in breath. Far off to the right, the blinding speck of sun was sinking into the trees. The orange clouds and sky were mirrored down in the dark, bobbing water of the lake. The moist wind was coming up from the cliffside, and the dry smells of earth and grass came from the left, accompanied by a small, poorly-attended choir of crickets. Douglas went ahead of her, his dim form leading the way into the twilight. It felt like summer. She felt herself softening a little.
"Isn't this nice!" he proclaimed. Hurrying, she clomped down to his side. "Feels like I haven't been out of the castle in ages!"
A thought came to her.
"Hey, what did you mean, I'm under your care?" she asked. "Mum and Dad don't count?"
"Nope."
She stopped - "What?! I was joking!"
"I know," he said, nodding her on to keep following him. "But that's the way of things."
"How is that the way of things?" she said, going back to his side.
"I'm the eldest magic-user in the family. Not counting whatever wanker came and stuck his willy in Mum -"
"Gross."
"- who's an absentee, which makes me your legal guardian as far as the Ministry's concerned. Mum has some say of things, and Frank too, but I can overrule them. Not that I would, but I can. Some reps from the Office of Wizarding Welfare visited me on my birthday and we had a big sit-down, they told me all about it."
"But… they're our parents."
"Yeah… it's a bit trickier across the magic / non-magic border. They can't get involved in most things, can they? Hard to interact. So they're given allowances, but because so much comes down to capability, they get bumped down in the queue."
She frowned.
"Which is why I get to take you off-grounds," he said, bopping her on the shoulder.
"Ugh."
They walked for a minute.
"And that's why Professor Smith told you about my detention?"
"Yep, that'd be it."
Some of her resentment alleviated.
"Are you taking me out to eat?" she asked.
"I was thinking about it! But don't get too excited, there's no such thing as a Maccies in the wizarding world. Not yet, anyways..."
"Ha, okay."
Part of her wanted to ask if he was sure, but the other part that was glad for it didn't want to push her luck.
The road levelled into a hollow, where a hint of lakeshore stink was lingering before a breeze came and blew it away. She walked side-by-side with Douglas. Out across the water the sun was setting, its reflection bright and firy in the bobs. She thought about Douglas being her guardian. She thought about their parents, and their real father, and a somber thought came to her - why'd their father abandon them? Was he really just a scumbag? Or were they just not good enough?
Her stomach tightened again, grumbling.
"Uh-oh," Douglas teased. "What've you got in there? Sasquatch?"
"Is Sasquatch real?"
"He was!" he said. "Or they were. Not sure if they're still around or not, to be honest."
"Huh."
The road started upward into the trees, where the ruts returned and the ground went all slanty from tree roots. The shadows darkened heavily and she only just managed to make out the shapes of two large, iron gates open against the tree trunks.
"Those won't close, will they?" she said, pointing.
"They might."
"But what if we're out and -"
"I was joking. We'll be back before they close up. Besides, there's a few spots where you can get through the enchantments, if you know where to look."
"Okay."
She stepped on a ridge of solidified mud that'd been squeezed up by a passing wheel, but felt the sole of her boot slip a bit so she stopped.
"What's with all the tire marks?" she said. "They don't have cars up here, do they?"
"Naw. Carriages. Like in old-times."
"I guess it'd be weird to see a semi backing up to Hogwarts."
"That it would," he laughed.
The trees gave way as the road levelled. Night was falling fast. The kept along the heavily-trodden path following the edge of the lake, and she started to wonder how much further they had to go, while Douglas walked with his hands in his pockets. He was looking up at where the stars were coming out. They passed the old train platform, lit by a few torches. It looked smaller than on the first night.
"There's the carriages," said Douglas.
Up ahead was a large, roofed corral, partly hidden in the trees. She'd missed that in the first-night rush.
"Where's the path?" she asked.
"Which path?"
"The one down to the lake. For the boats."
"Oh, we already passed it," he said, nodding back the way they'd come.
She saw it - a dark opening amidst the trees.
The path sloped upward again. The trees stayed heavy along the lakeside, but started to thin off to the south. She saw the train tracks swing away and disappear into the dark, cloudy moorland. The dusty smell of the road mingled in, and she scuffed her boots on the dirt. A cold breeze swept over, going right through her robes, and her hunger bound up in a knot. Suddenly, Douglas spoke.
"Welcome to Hogsmeade!"
She looked up, and saw they'd crested the hill - out before them spread the wizarding village; cobbled roads, tall, woodsy cottages with steep roofs, bright shop windows, and neighborhoods sprawling off into the rocky hillsides.
Eager, she increased her pace. The ground turned from dirt to paving stones as they made their way onto the main street. The cottages embraced them. It wasn't like Diagon Alley at all, she thought - everything was closely-knit, but each building stood as its own establishment without squeezing in or messily stacking on its neighbors. Most of the windows were dark, but more and more were lit up they further they went into town. Their insides were wobbly from old glass. She heard muted music playing somewhere, and people walked past along the edges of buildings on the sidewalk-less street. It was bizarre to her seeing adults in robes and witch hats, even if that was the normal sort of dress for Hogwarts professors.
"You ought to see it in the snow," said Douglas, loosening his tie. "It's beautiful. Granted, it's beautiful now, but it has a whole other charm in the snow."
"Does it snow a lot?"
"Once every so often. It snowed in my fourth year, and in my first or second, can't remember. That one was bad, though, locked us in the castle!"
Her eyebrows climbed.
"So," he said, elbowing her shoulder - "where do you want to eat?"
"What do they have?"
"All kinds," he said. Then grinned - "and some that are pretty weird."
"Don't know if I'm feeling weird," she said. "What about sausages? A big plate of bangers and mash, that'd be lovely."
"Ah, their sausage place isn't the best… oh, I've got it! Sandwiches. There's a sandwich place that'll knock your socks off, let's do that."
They kept forward, and he quickly fell into the role of tour guide. They went past iron lamp posts and buildings, small corner-parks with trees and boulders and benches, and an old bronze statue striped with turquoise that lifted the brim of its hat at her. She tried to listen to him, but with the night's chill setting in and her hunger growing she couldn't find herself interested.
"...That's the Three Broomsticks back there, great spot, been here ages," he was saying, "and this is the Sleeping Dragon Inn, not as cozy, but a sight cheaper and lots more availability… Wheeze's over there, the one with all the stuff out front, that's the second-favorite spot after Honeyduke's… oh, and you can't forget the theater, you've got to there sometime..."
A door burst open and a group of four came out, music and cheer spilling out with them. The pub interior was warmly lit in candlelight and had a live band, which looked interesting until the door shut it away. But the people carried on, talking too loudly and bumbling into each other.
"That's the Lucky Cauldron," said Douglas. "Same owners as the Leaky Cauldron, you know. Remember me taking you there?"
"Yeah," she said, as a cold breeze swept over them, stealing away her heat.
"Man, I've had a good few nights at the Cauldron…"
Douglas reminisced about a time in his fifth year when Nort had a bit too much to drink and needed to be helped up to the castle. She clutched at her elbows, holding in her heat.
"...Really, you ought to start saving up your birthday money now, I wish I'd done that. Hold on…" he said, seeing her - "you're freezing!"
"I'm fine."
"Right, and I'm the Queen of England. I should've made you grab a jumper or something. C'mon, we're nearly there, just across the road…"
He nudged her into the street and they crossed at a diagonal, passing the Lucky Cauldron group. Up ahead was a brightly-lit building that had "Witch's Wiches" illuminated by two very slow-moving, yellow-flamed torches, almost reminding her of a fast-food sign. But it didn't matter to her, she'd take anything right now if it was warm and had somewhere to sit.
The got to the door, and Douglas shepherded her through the entrance.
"You go on," he said, staying back. "I'm going to hang out for a second. Take a look at the menu."
"What are you doing?"
"Phonecall," he said, tapping his writer. "Go on."
She did as he said, allowing the warm air of the shop to engulf her. It was a pleasant place. The walls were a cheery yellow, with large iron lanterns that had more of the slow flames. Two cloaked wizards were eating enormous beef sandwiches in one corner and glanced at her once before continuing their conversation about someone who'd sprouted antlers. The only other people were a group of five Ravenclaws at a table in the middle of the room, all with smaller sandwiches (one of which was emitting puffs of dark smoke). They had their notes out, and were having a very stern argument over something that sounded like Transfiguration (she heard Professor Cogito's name come up, at least).
She went up to the counter. Sitting behind it was a red-haired girl, whose hair was dyed so scarlet it was almost glowing. She had silver-lidded eyes and dark lipstick, and was peering at her writer in a bored trance, one boot up on her stool's support bar. Ray saw a large tattoo of a pixie with butterfly wings high up on her thigh, which flipped her off as soon as she looked at it - which was rude, but cool.
"Hey," said the girl, finally noticing her and standing. "You're a runty one. You out by yourself?"
"I've got me brother with me," she said.
"Brother, huh? What are you wearing?"
The girl came up and leaned on the bar to get a look at her.
"Flying robes," said Ray.
"Just get through a game of Quidditch?"
"No."
"Alright. Well, wear whatever you like, kid. Anyone who tells you different can sod right off. You want to eat something?"
"What is there?"
The girl fanned a hand down the bar, showing off the different ingredients in their tubs.
"Is it build-your-own?" Ray asked.
"If you want," said the girl. "But there's a few specials."
She went and looked, and saw some very strange options on display. There were sliced veggies and beans and curry, sure, but then there were tubs with little eyeballs, a load of blackish, brownish fuzzy stuff, frog legs -
"Pickled plimpy toes, they turn red 'cause of the vinegar," said the girl, walking her down the bar, "fried onions with pixie dust, I wouldn't recommend that unless you're in a rush… marinated mushroom tops, here... bicorn tenderloin… crisped nogtails… worm roots... petrified spiders, they reanimate as soon as they're in your mouth..."
Ray's mouth went tight. Douglas brought her here? She couldn't imagine eating any of this stuff. She'd thought a lot of the food in the Great Hall was weird, but now it seemed mild by comparison. Was this really normal for witches and wizards?
"Can you… can you do cheese toasties?"
The girl raised an eyebrow.
"Sure," she said. "What kind of cheese?"
There wasn't any cheddar, she saw, disappointment growing. There was Wild Goat, something called Yarg (with "Nettle Cheese" written below for clarification), Salted Picorno (which looked like a rock), and a weird, crumbly cheese with maroon streaks that looked an awful lot like blood. It made her feel sick.
"You said there were specials?" she said, heart sinking.
"Yeah," said the girl.
The door tinkled. A couple had entered and were coming for the counter. She saw Douglas outside talking animatedly to his writer before being shut away again.
"Want to see the menu?" said the girl, holding one out.
"Okay."
Ray took it (it was hand-printed on old, thick parchment) and the girl went to help the couple. She read down the list, not knowing most of the names, and couldn't even find the things she'd thought she'd recognized from the bar. She stepped back into the open space as the couple nudged through.
She didn't know what to do. She looked at the pricing, thinking Douglas was only wanting to spend a few pounds on her, but it was all in knuts and sickles and galleons. The couple got their sandwiches and left, leaving her alone. She felt the sandwich girl watching her. But she kept her eyes on the menu, searching for anything familiar, her mood feeling like a weight in her chest.
Suddenly, clothing dropped on her head.
"Hey!" she shouted.
"The question is," said Douglas, tugging the bundle down to her shoulders, "...which wich?"
Her heart lept.
"You're back!"
"Or," said the sandwich girl, "which witch wich?"
"Ah-ha," said Douglas, as Ray squirmed her arms into his large (and slightly smelly) work robes. (But it didn't matter though - they were warm, and she was happy he'd got them for her.) "...Or, howbout, for which witch wich, would a witty witch wish?"
The girl laughed.
"That's good! A witty witch would wish for the right witch wich!"
"Oh, I've got it - say you've got a group coming in. Surely you'd ask, which witty witch wishes which witch wich?"
They burst into laughter. Ray boggled at them.
"I've got to tell my coworker that one," the sandwich girl said. "He'll crack his cauldron."
"Do it," said Douglas.
"Do you guys know each other?" said Ray.
Douglas grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her in.
"I'd like to introduce my infamous little sister, Ray."
"Oh, so you're the so-called brother, eh?" said the girl. "Well good on you for being infamous, kid, give 'em hell."
"Er, thanks..." she said.
"Melrose here is an ex-Slytherin, one year ahead of me," said Douglas.
"Hi," she said.
"And you've got Gryffindor colors, do you?" said Melrose.
"Yeah."
"Always wondered if I should've been in Gryffindor," she said. "They're the best at throwing parties. Although with that three-strikes rule I probably wouldn't have lasted a year."
"Three-strikes rule?"
"Yeah. Three detentions and it's an out-of-school suspension," she said. "Too many of those and you'll end up just like me. Professor Smith keeps a tight leash!"
She laughed, but Ray was suddenly uncomfortable. If that was true, she was already on strike one - and the first month wasn't even over. Self-conscious, she looked down, and turned to her sleeves to roll them up to her elbows. But the fabric was too bulky, and slipped.
"That's a bit big on you, isn't it?" said Melrose. "Here..."
She pointed her wand.
"Figo."
The sleeve bundles tightened securely, and the bottom rolled up above her knees.
"Nice one," said Douglas.
"Thanks," said Ray.
"Sure thing. So hey, you guys know what you want?"
Douglas ordered a sandwich, one with the red plimpy toes, cabbage, a bunch of veggies, and (despite her protesting) a quarter-scoop of eyeballs - "Just enough for a bite on one end," he said. They went to a table on the other side of the Ravenclaws, and he told her about having Nort toss the robes out a window and then summoning them all the way across the grounds, which was what took so long.
The sandwich was actually fairly decent. If not for her knowing the eyeballs were there it would've been the best sandwich she'd had in a long time - but as it was, it still took her a while to work through, and she gagged a few times before getting the first bites down. She then hurriedly scarfed through the rest of the salty sourness until the eyeball feel was out of her mouth, leaving her feeling a bit queasy, and to make up for it Douglas got her a pint of Cinnamon Milk. This was very sugary and good, and had a nice (but odd) pineapple aftertaste.
By the time she finished Douglas was back in his writer, and Melrose was too. She took a breath and fiddled with the green thread running around one of the sleeve-bundles. She tried not to think about Gryffindor, or Riley, or what Kendra and Zach and everyone must be wondering about her. She maybe should have told someone where she'd gone, she thought.
Douglas shut his writer.
"How was it?"
"Weird," she said. "But not bad, I guess."
He laughed.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like I wanna do something," she said. "Let's walk around some more."
They said bye to Melrose and returned to the cobbled road. They went further up the street, where fewer shops had their lights on ("That's the Hog's Head up there," said Douglas, pointing at one of the few illuminated buildings, which had lively accordion and a fair bit of chatter coming out its open doorway). They came to a branching street and turned down, finding themselves on another main road, although this one seemed less touristy - there were businesses here, with shops and places for the locals, and they passed one or two homes that had gotten mixed in. Douglas shifted from being a tour guide to trying to get her into conversation.
"How are your studies going?" he asked.
"Alright."
"Any subjects you like?"
"Creatures I guess," she said. She wasn't sure if she wanted to talk about classes. "Though it'd be better if Potter wasn't there. And I like Fitness and Herbology."
"Oh, the Potter kid, from the train! Things still sour?"
"Worse," she said, and told him about blasting Potter over his study table.
Douglas burst out laughing.
"See, this is why I didn't want you learning any hexes!" he said.
"I know," she said.
Her face was hot.
"Well I bet he deserved it, eh?"
"Yeah," she said.
Which was true, actually, for one reason or another...
"Alright, let's turn up here."
They went up a narrow gravel path after an anchor-shaped sign that said "The Mermaid's Tail", which had little floating balls of pink and blue around it. They went past a small, dark business building, then The Mermaid's Tail came into view: a large, colorful tavern nestled in amidst the forest's edge. It looked oddly busy being so far out of the way. The path was long, and Ray sensed it wasn't the sort of place the rest of the town liked being there.
"Don't ever let me catch you working in a place like this," said Douglas.
"Why not?"
"Cause it means I would've failed as a brother, got me?"
She raised an eyebrow.
"Okay..."
The tavern's windows shone ahead of them, glowing blue, purple, and pink. Ray could hear a lady singing. They passed two drunkards on the left going off about how close of friends they were, then a large fountain with a mermaid statue on the right that waved and winked at them, her eyelashes and scales glowing.
"Lots of people have fallen in that," said Douglas.
"Is this a strip club?" she asked.
"What? No," he laughed.
"Is it like a Hooters?"
"Er…" he hesitated. "A bit more like that, yeah…"
"You're bringing me to a Hooters?"
"We're not going in!" he said. "Just going to grab something."
They went below the front-door awning and scared off some twittering pixies (which might have actually been fairies, Ray thought, as they were glowing and looked a lot less insect-like), and Douglas opened the door. She saw it was very aquatic themed, with fishtanks and an undulating light pattern projected on the ceiling (or probably charmed there, perhaps). The place was pretty busy, with most people sitting at tables by the walls or watching the band play in the spotlight. She smelled sweet cigar smoke, fried food, and yeasty beer.
"It gets busier later in the year," said Douglas. "Quite a few Gryffindors from my class come this way, actually."
"Uh-huh," she said, raising her eyebrows.
One of the servers came over, who was wearing a very short fish-scale miniskirt and matching top. There were pearls in her hair, and she had one of those overly-friendly customer service smiles Jordan's older brother always had.
"Here for some kitchen scraps," said Douglas.
"Are you?" said the server, smile turning more genuine. "How about that. Alright, I'll have chef meet you out back."
"Much obliged," he said, clapping his hands together. "Have a goodnight!"
"Alright," said the server, already going back to her tables.
They went outside again. She followed Douglas around to the building's backside.
"You come here a lot?" she teased.
"Hey, what do you take me for? You think I've got that kind of funds?"
"You sure seem to know the operations."
"Well, I stop by for scraps a couple times a year. I sort of know the chef. Only time I've ever gone in was for Sam's birthday… he got prett-y tipsy," he laughed.
The back had a small working area, with a wood box for linen bags, two old chairs with bottles and littered cigar stubs around them, a broken table with random supplies stuffed under and on top of it, and two large, iron boxes that stank heavily, which must have been designed by someone who only had a loose idea of dumpsters.
"Charming," said Douglas, a smile on his face. "I've always liked these little places."
She scrunched her face at him.
"It's true," he said. "These little armpit spots out of the way, or ones that people breeze past on their way to someplace else. There's so much that happens in them. They get a certain character, you know, after a time. The little eddies of society."
"Wow," she said. "Maybe you ought to switch from Business to Poetry."
"I wish," he laughed. "Wouldn't that be something?"
The door banged open, and a man in a dirty cook's apron came out with a trolley. On it was a tub filled with bits of fish, bones, tentacle parts, scaled claws, seaweed roots, and a number of other leftover bits.
"'Ere ya go!" said the man.
"Alright, Pete?" said Douglas.
"Aye, that you, Dougs?"
"It's me."
"Who's that you got with ya?" Pete said, squinting.
"Little sister!"
"Ah, another troublemaker, rights when we're about to get rid of ya!"
"That's right," he said. "How's the night going?"
"Not bad," said Pete, sighing and putting his fists on his hips. Ray smiled appreciatively - he had a big ol' belly. "Not bad for a Friday, is it?"
"That's good!" said Douglas. "Thanks for the chum bits." He waved his wand at the scraps tub, and the meat rose up into a single mass, spinning and condensing together into a lump.
"Ah wait, here ya go," said Pete, going over to the dumpster and hefting the lid off.
"Anything not good for the fishes?"
"Nah, it's all good," said Pete. "This'll go up to the school for them devil mares later, you go ahead'n take what you want."
Douglas added meat from the dumpsters until the lump was the size of a small person, then called it good and (after a brief discussion over Pete's mead-brewing hobby) bade him goodnight. They left, Douglas floating the meat ahead of them as they went back around to the front of the tavern - however, instead of following the path back to the road, he went left at the mermaid fountain and started up a secret trail.
"What are we doing?" said Ray, hurrying after him.
"It's a surprise!"
"Are we feeding fish?"
"It's a surprise."
"Hmm," she said. "What are devil mares?"
"Thestrals," he said. "They're invisible horses. Hogwarts has a small herd of them for pulling carriages, I guess they look pretty spooky."
"You haven't seen one?"
"I've seen drawings. But i don't know how true-to-life they are. Think of... the horse-version of those gargoyle statues."
"Huh."
They followed the dark, glimmering lump of meat up through the trees. The trail was well-travelled, with its edges stuffed with food wrappers, broken glass, and other leftovers from drunken hijinks. Here and there were blue, glowing mushrooms, some of which had gotten too large and received a destructive booting as a consequence, leaving a mess of dead fleshy bits shooting out ahead of them. But, Ray thought, it sort of added to the atmosphere... it might've been the huge sandwich she'd had, or her fight earlier, or just the fact that she was exhausted and it'd been a rough day, but there was an odd, other-worldly feel to the place (and the floating meat wasn't helping things). It could've even been the woods themselves, she thought, thinking about the deep parts of the forbidden forest. But things didn't feel ominous here.
"How's Rachel?" she asked.
"Busy. Everyone's busy. You got any projects?"
"My potions project."
She talked about Nate. She talked about her Quidditch practicing. She talked about Kendra being gruff, and Zach being aloof, and people talking about her and always waiting for her to blow up in class and make a scene.
"You know why they're talking about you, right?" said Douglas. "You know why they follow you everywhere?"
Her eyes narrowed - "Why?"
"Because they like you."
"That doesn't sound right."
"It's true. It's because you're loud, and fun, and get excited about things," he said. "You're bright, and it makes people look up from their writers and actually do things."
"I don't know."
"It's a good thing to have going for you."
She didn't say anything.
"I mean it," he said, bumping her with an elbow.
She gave half a laugh, just to satisfy him. She didn't think he had the right idea about things, but it was nice for him to try and say stuff.
The trail was long, and kept upward. They circumvented routes and followed the path as it curved. There were a few smaller trails that branched down off to the right, and Ray looked for the lights of Hogsmeade, but never spotted any. Tall trunks stood around them, fading up into the dark canopy. Owls hooted, and fairies chased each other through the trees. There were crickets, and long trills from either an insect she didn't know or some kind of night bird.
She thought of Douglas being proud of her, and her mood started to fall again. She thought of her Mum and Dad having high hopes for her, and yet, how she was always screwing up. There was a lot they didn't know. She wondered what they'd think of her, if they knew everything she did. How she acted and talked. They probably wouldn't be quite as pleased. Face downcast, she watched the trail. She really had to stop being such a screw up.
"Pretty quiet today," said Douglas.
"I…" she said. "I kinda got in a fight."
"Right, Potter."
"No, it was a different one."
"My god," he laughed. "With who?"
She didn't know if she wanted to talk about this.
"Some guy."
"Some guy?" he said, eyebrows climbing.
"A third-year. A boy."
"A third-year BOY?"
That hadn't been any better.
"It doesn't matter," she sighed. "He betrayed me, so I'm never talking to him again."
"Good! You're too young to be worrying about that kind of thing anyway. Boys. Christ."
They walked for a moment.
"How'd he betray you?"
"Ratted me out," she said. "About my practices"
"Ah."
He didn't say anything else. Slowly, she felt things welling up inside her.
"So you've come around with Quidditch, then?" Douglas said. The sudden topic change made her heart twinge.
"What do you mean?" she said.
"You were all hesitant about it in the summer."
"Yeah, well, I've given it a try now," she said. Her voice felt hoarse. "And I really wanted to play," she went on. "I got to know the whole team. They're really cool, and they like me. But now I won't be able to," she said. "Now Potter will get to go to tryouts. And I'll be stuck in the stands for the whole year."
"Ah."
Her heart throbbed.
"It's so unfair."
"You could always hope someone will be horribly injured," he said jokingly. "And besides, there's always next year."
"But I wanted to play this year."
"Well… first years hardly ever make the team anyway," he said. "At least from what I've seen."
"Would you have come and watched me fly?"
"Sure, maybe a time or two. But you know, games are open to alumni too."
"Alumni?" she asked, half-heartedly.
"Graduates. So, if you get in next year, I might still be able to come."
She didn't know if that made her feel any better. They walked for a minute.
"Ah -" he said. "We're here, thank Christ."
Ahead of them, the trees disappeared and gave way to starry sky. Fresh, cool air was coming up off the lake. They went out onto a little barren clearing, which had more garbage and a blackened fire pit with carved-up logs sitting around. It ended with a cliff, and out past it was the vast, open expanse of the lake, the moonless night, and the small, speckled shape of Hogwarts up on its cliff, blending in with the stars.
All her professors were over there, she thought. Potter was over there, turning the whole common room against her. Then Kendra and Zach, and the prefects, and her neglected assignments and soon-to-be detentions. She both wanted to be back there right now and never have to go back again.
Douglas steered the fishy lump into view.
"What are we doing with that anyway?" she said, voice heavy.
"You know how to shoot sparks?" he asked.
Apprehension rose.
"I've done it once," she said. "What do we need it for?"
"As a signal."
"A signal?"
"Yep."
"What for?"
He grinned - "I thought we could feed the squid."
"The squid?"
"Yeah," he laughed.
The squid. Her heart beat in her chest.
"I don't know if I want it to come here."
His jaw dropped.
"Why?"
"I just…"
She hesitated. He watched her, and must have noticed the look on her face because the next second he kneeled down to her level, leaving the meat to hover by itself.
"Is this about when it took you out of the lake?"
"I don't know," she said.
"Are you scared of it?"
"I don't know."
"Well if you are scared of it, it's perfectly reasonable," he said. "It's a giant monster. But, it's also put here for our protection."
"How do you know that?"
"Well they put it in the lake, didn't they? It's sort of like the lifeguard."
She didn't say anything.
"That's what it does," he said. "It senses when somebody's in trouble and gets them back in their boats. Right?"
"...Right."
"I'm pretty sure it's tied in with the wards somehow, like the professors."
She watched him.
"It won't do anything to us?"
"No way. Not in a million years."
She thought it over, Douglas's eyes on her. She could tell he wanted her to say yes. And if this was something he liked doing, she thought, she should probably go along and do it. It seemed like it might be one of those big-brother things. One of those experiences he wanted to share. Like the opposite of "not Slytherin." Something good.
"Fine," she said. "Fine. Okay. Let's do it, before I lose my nerve."
"Ay, there we go!"
She marched forward, eyes on the cliff's edge. The lake loomed out before her, vast and powerful, its mirrored surface hiding whatever horrors lay in its depths. She stopped two feet from the edge, heart thudding at the rocky, vertical drop below her, then stepped even closer - she might as well commit.
Douglas caught her at the chest and pulled her back.
"Don't get so close," he laughed. "What about the wind?"
Right.
"What do we do?"
"You've shot sparks before?"
She grimaced, heart fluttering - "Yes."
"Here we are, then," he said, and held out his wand.
"You want me to use your wand?"
"Sure."
His wand. She took it, remembering the last time she'd held it, and the mystery it carried. It didn't feel as special now - she'd held Kendra's wand a few times, and Zach's, and like them, it felt more polished than hers. (Probably because it had polish.) But even with it gone, there was something more human there. She could see little scratches around the tip and the middle, see the parts on the grip that were worn from use. Instead of being a mystical, magical wand, it was now just... Douglas's wand. But it wasn't any worse. She wasn't sure if it was better. It was just different. Maybe it was nicer.
"So you prepare like you're about to cast a spell," he said. "Feel the magic well up inside you, if that makes sense. And then you just kind of… squeeze."
She stuck his wand out over the cliff, pointing it at the heart of the lake. Fingers tingling, she gripped the wood and squeezed her magic through. It sprayed out in yellow, sparks streaming and falling over the water like fireworks, making the rocks glow. Raw magic.
"Nice one. Do white - red - white - red," he said. "It's sort of my way of telling it it's me. Not sure if it understands, but… I do it anyway," he laughed.
"How do I do color?"
"You just do it," he said. "Most of magic is pretty intuitive. Thank Merlin for that, or we'd be in a heap of trouble. Oh, and try to do a bit more this time… the further out it goes the better."
She did as he said, picturing white sparks, and - out they came. She did red, fuelling more of her magic, and the stream extended, then she did white with even more power, then red again, and then she did one more of each, and found there was a threshold at which adding more magic didn't really add any more distance. Which was good, because it was making her fingers tingle.
"Nice one," said Douglas. He clapped her on the shoulder. She stumbled forward, planting a foot on the precipice, and Douglas caught her. Loose dirt spilled over the edge and sparks shot up her legs.
"Oh my god!" she said.
"Sorry, couldn't resist," he said, laughing.
"Fuck you!" she laughed, shakily, heaving breaths.
"I know, I know. Let me have that wand back."
Wordlessly, she passed it to him, and he re-tightened the fish lump.
"Fuck," she said, heart pounding, and looked out over the drop. She didn't want to get too close in case Douglas did it again, but… her curiosity had the better of her.
Down at the cliff base, the lake water bobbed and splashed against the wet rock.
"How close will it get?" she asked. "Is it shallow right there?"
"Not at all," he said, coming back beside her. Again, the meat was left to hang in the air by the bushes, apparently not needing him to baby it. "I think there's even a little underwater alcove. People jump off here all the time."
"From this height? It must be thirty, forty feet!"
"Nah, don't think it's that much," he said. "Maybe twenty."
"Only twenty?"
"I think so."
"Have you jumped off?"
"Once," he said, a wry smile on his lips. "Don't think I'll do it again, though."
"Why'd you do it?"
"Ah, everyone else was. And, er… Rachel sort of talked me into it."
That made her smile.
"Did she?"
"Yeah."
Douglas raised his wand and shot out another volley of sparks, then looked down at the water, putting a hand in his pocket and letting his wand hang at his side. She stood by him with her arms crossed - one of the waves crashed a bit harder… it might not've meant anything, but her stomach still twinged.
"I've always wondered about the lake," said Douglas. "I wish there was a map of it or something. One of those topographic models scientists make. I've heard there's caves, and you can travel from it to other bodies of water. I think the squid goes out to the sea sometimes to eat. And then there's a small mer-village down there, with merpeople."
"Merpeople are real?"
"Oh yes."
"Like that mermaid back there?"
"Well," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Not like that fountain, no. Real merpeople are pretty frightening to look at, honestly. A lot more fishy."
Another minute passed. Ray was getting antsy, and was about to ask Douglas if they should send out more sparks to hurry things along, when he pointed.
"There she is," he said.
Out in the water, small, dark shapes appeared amongst the glossy waves. Ray's eyes widened, fear sparkling in her palms. If it was that visible at this distance, it must've been huge. Without warning, Douglas shot more red sparks, then white, then red again.
"I think it saw us already," she said, taking a step back.
"Just saying hello."
Waves crashed. The dark shapes drew closer, and before she knew it they were pooling at the base of the cliff. Her legs were sparking, wanting to move.
"Remember, she won't hurt you," Douglas said.
"Since when is it a she?"
Water frothed and splashed. The dark shapes took form, going from patches in the water to bands, then arches that rose above the surface. It was close - it was so close to them, twenty feet away, and less every second as the shapes rose. The tip of one appeared, turning the arch into an arm, then another, and they rose from the water like the necks of geese, only terribly slower. They almost seemed fake, Ray thought, like slow animatronics or bad cgi, but of course they were real, she could feel deep down in her bones that these were undeniably real appendages of a massive creature.
At ten feet away, she finally saw the suckers. She remembered them on her; big, rubbery suction cups the size of dinner plates. At five feet, their breadth became clear; enormous columns of muscle, as thick as the length of her forearm. Then the tip of one was level with the cliff… level with her eyes, its slick, rubbery flesh glimmering… and now above her, towering, supported by its columnous mass, slick with water, and joined by one, two, three others.
Her heart pounded. She wanted to leave. But she kept herself locked in place.
"See?" said Douglas, as the titanic arms swayed within arms-reach. "Harmless."
He reached out and touched one, wiggling his fingers on the side of a sucker, and the arm flinched.
Her voice came out in a strangled groan - "What are you doing?"
"It's ticklish," he said, laughing, as the arms swayed before them. "It likes it."
Water crashed below, and she forced herself to look down. She sucked in breath. Three more tentacles had appeared on the cliffside, woven between boulders to anchor the monster in place. They must've creeped up without her noticing! The rest were still dark shapes in the water, moving around in the waves like snakes. She couldn't see the squid's body or head. Somewhere beneath the water's surface was a mouth… a pair of eyes… a massive, finned dome, undulating in the depths, completely hidden by the reflective surface of the lake… looking up at them...
"Give it the meat," she said. "It came for the meat, it's hungry."
"It came to say hi!" he said. "But, yeah, I will…"
With a flick of his wand, the bundle of fish scraps drifted over and proceeded out amidst the arms, a wake of stench following. There went their hiking companion, she thought, in surprisingly bizarre and morbid humor. One of the tentacles made contact, then felt up against it, its suckers contracting experimentally over its surface… then the arm curled, its tip gently folding over and taking it, bringing it down… down… and below the water.
Something touched her arm -!
It was Douglas.
"Tickle it," he said, laughing at her.
She shook her head.
"C'mon…" he egged.
"Nope."
"C'mon, just a little poke," he said, doing a weird voice. "Tally-ho, come on then, there she is, there's our Rayleigh-girl…"
"Christ," she said, shaking her head, and stuck a hand out toward the nearest muscle pillar.
A second later it swayed into her, its thick, wet flesh contacting her fingers… and nothing happened. It was cold and dense. Her heart pounded, but she took a breath. She pressed her palm against it, telling herself if those biologists on TV could do it with whales and sharks (and even be in the water with them) she could at least do this. Beneath the rubber was hard muscle, and her hand felt along a sucker, which had a much slicker, softer, fleshy feel, and contracted when she lingered on it too long.
"Ha," she said, breathless. "Ticklish."
It was oddly mesmerizing. She stayed there for a minute, petting the squid with Douglas, before she realized what she was doing and took a step back.
"You know, Ray, you're always welcome to come visit," Douglas said. "I might not always be able to entertain, but if you just want to hang out…"
It wasn't something she saw herself doing (and she bet he didn't think she'd go for it either)... but it was still nice.
"Thanks."
"And Rachel's down there half the time too, you know."
"That'd… that'd be good. I was thinking about asking her some things."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, just, you know…"
She trailed off. He must have known, because he didn't ask for clarification, and she let it drop. Her face felt warm. She didn't know why she brought that up. She wasn't ready for that kind of stuff yet, she knew.
"Well I'm sure Rachel would be more than happy to talk anytime," he said.
"Thanks."
She felt like there was a lump in her throat. Again, she pictured her friends. She pictured them having normal lives, with whole families, their only concerns homework and saving up for the next writer or whatever other fun thing. The thoughts dragged her down, making her feel empty. It didn't quite seem fair. Everything in her life took so much effort. And then it always got torn from her, or blown up in her face. Her chest felt hollow.
Douglas backed away from the squid and wiped his hands on his pants.
"Hey, so how are you finding magic?" he said. "Easy, hard?"
"It's okay."
"Just okay?"
"It's easier than I thought."
He smiled at her, but she couldn't return it.
"I was wondering," he said. "You want to see something?"
"What?"
"Come over here," he said, leading her away from the cliff edge. He stood in the middle of the area and struck a pose, shoes scuffing the hard-packed earth. He was trying to act like a showman, but she was feeling too awful to appreciate it.
"Watch this…"
He brandished his wand before him and said, "Expecto patronum!"
A huge, silver shape burst forth, forming into a dog that landed solidly on the ground.
Something about it pulled at her. Something familiar. And then she remembered - their old dog. Their Australian Cattle Dog, which had died when she was little. But here he was, cropped tail and pointy ears and everything, looking at her and panting happily. She stared, jaw dropping. Her eyes widened.
"Pavlo?" she said, sinking to her knees.
Immediately, he bounded up and planted his paws on her shoulders, knocking her back on her butt. He licked her face frantically, snuffling with excitement, and before she knew it she was sobbing, clutching at his fur and smearing tears on his coat where they evaporated in the light.
"Oh my god," she cried. "Pavlo. Oh my god."
He barked, but it came in a blast of energy instead of the shrill sound she knew. It went through her, filling her, banishing her unhappy thoughts and rebuilding her, making her feel whole and centered and together. He squirmed at her grip and she relaxed, and he danced around while wiggling with his whole body, barking with excitement. He lept for her face again and she caught him, scratching and scrubbing the fur of his back and chest, and she laughed in bewilderment. Then he pulled off, looking around for work to be done, panting, and wondering what they were doing.
"Hey buddy," she called.
Pavlo looked at her, gave another bark, then went off to Douglas and faded from sight. But his presence remained, leaving the area warm and happy, and she felt drops fall off her chin. Tears were streaming down her face.
"Ah," she said. "Fuck."
She smushed at her eyes with the sleeve-bundles, which only smeared her tears around, so she wiped them on the back of her hands.
Douglas came up and put a hand on her shoulder. She fell against his leg, where she finished crying.
"Pretty cool, right?" he said.
She sniffed, catching her breath. Her skin was warm like she'd been in the sun all day.
She looked up. And suddenly, the squid tentacles didn't seem so monstrous. And Hogwarts - all the things going on seemed smaller, and only temporary, and solvable, if she took the time to work at them.
"Yeah," she said. "Pretty cool."
Ray went back to Gryffindor. She got her wand and backpack from three prefects who were doing homework at a table, and outside of a ten-point deduction, didn't have any other consequences. In fact, they said that if she was ever having problems, she could come and talk to them. It was the same in her dorm - she started off apologizing, but Kendra and Abby and everyone said it was completely understandable and wouldn't hold it against her.
She went to the Practical Defense Room and met Professor Smith. He taught her the Reparo charm, and she spent the two hours guiding stuffing back into heavy, man-sized target dummies, which she also had to stitch up. It was exhausting. He left her alone in the classroom, too, which she'd panicked about at first.
"Sir, what about Peeves?"
Professor Smith looked at her, one hand on the doorknob.
"He will not bother you. But, if it makes you feel better…"
He unsheathed his wand and summoned his brilliant, silver eagle, which took up position on the back of a chair.
"My brother has one of those," she said.
"Douglas Zuwaldt," he said. "A talented student."
"He said... it isn't a ghost. He said it's more like a memory."
Professor Smith considered.
"A simple explanation," he said. "But, with a degree of accuracy. The Patronus Charm is one of the most powerful and ancient defensive magics still practiced. It is the embodiment of a person's righteous will, and as such, takes an extraordinary state of mind to conjure. This is often achieved by recalling a very powerful and positive memory. It is one of the few defensive spells that can defend against even the most powerful evils in our world. Rest assured, a poltergeist will pose no threat while it is active."
"What memory do you use?"
He didn't speak for a moment.
"I returned a child to her mother," he said simply.
He then left, and Ray set to work, the eagle watching over her. It was odd, if he was right - Douglas had said his memory was of when she was younger and had brought Badger and Roady into her and Seb's room during a rainstorm, splattering the entire place in mud. Their Mum had said it was impossible, for nowhere else in the house was messy, and Ray was in her room the entire time. Douglas said it was her first instance of magic, but… she hardly remembered it. And it didn't seem like anything next to whatever Professor Smith had done.
Of course, everyone in her class was enthralled by her trip to Hogsmeade. Even kids in the second year and those from other houses would come up and ask her about what the shops looked like, or what kind of things she saw, or to tell them about mermaids and thestrals. It was a big topic of conversation during homework hours, too, and sometimes ate up so much of the study time that Kendra had to demand they all get back to work - which Ray was more than happy to do, as she was still digging herself out of the hole she'd gotten in.
She avoided Riley, which wasn't hard in the slightest as he tended to avoid everyone anyway. In fact, as long as she didn't think about him, it was like he wasn't even there. Potter, too, was quiet around her - he'd failed to qualify for Seeker, but even with that he didn't seem any more of a nuisance. It was odd, but she wasn't going to question it.
And she spent time down in Hufflepuff with the other Gryffindors, working on her potions homework and trying to be a better groupmate. She went running in the mornings, and ate dinner with everyone in the Great Hall, which was wonderful and amazing. It was almost enough to make her forget about flying, and the odd things going on out in the forest.
Then Monday passed, and Tuesday.
And then it was October.