N/A: Hello, beautiful people! Thank you so much for all the reviews on the previous chapter and for all the new followers. I hope you all enjoy today's chapter. Any comments, critiques or concerns, feel free to contact me.

Chapter Nine - The Magic in the Arts

I paint a new world, colours of magic are brightenin'

Paint a new world, moon sun and stars are risin'

I paint a new world, magical brushes will lighten

A tame new world

Earth, wind, fire and sea*

Through the course of the following week, several letters are written. They all start the same and they all have the same fate: become wrinkled balls inside the trashcan. I write to my father, explaining the whole situation, but as soon as I read the finished text, I feel extremely stupid. Why am I even willing to pay an absurd amount of money for a random egg and a piece of information? I don't know the man and the whole thing reeks of scam. Somehow, I can't help but want to know more about my brother and his fate.

By the next Monday, I'm out of ideas on how to get almost five hundred galleons. Charlie seems to be a little disappointed and I know how much he's like to own a dragon egg. Not that it would be much nicer once the egg hatched, but the memory of him happily hopping along Hogsmeade makes my heart ache a little.

"We could gather our allowances," Rowan suggests during lunch.

"Even if we sum our eleven or twelve allowances, I don't think it will add to five hundred galleons," Tulip says.

"I'm thinking of getting the money from my Gringotts vault," I tell them. "But I'll only be able to get it during the holidays, when I'm home."

Talbott looks at me with seriousness. "Are you sure you want to spend your money on an egg and some suspicious secrets?"

I chew the inside of my cheeks, thinking. "Yes. If anything, or anyone, can lead me to my brother faster, then yes. I'm willing to waste my money on it."

"Do you think Alistair is willing to wait until December?" Rowan asks, concerned.

I sigh. "I don't know. I think I'm going to write him and explain the situation."

"He seemed very eager to do business with you," Talbott says. "I'll be bold and assume that he's going to patiently wait for you to get the money."

My guts seem to be twisted. After having spent the early morning helping Cady make scrambled eggs, I have no interest in eating. I mechanically swallow some pudding just to get some energy to go through the day. Talbott, Rowan and Tulip eye me with concern, but I ignore the feeling of their eyes upon me.

After eating, I place a kiss on Talbott's cheek and make my way to the dungeons, to a lecture that I know won't involve money or dragon eggs or shady wizards.

I hear Rowan and Tulip following me nearby. They're keeping a short distance between us, and I thank them for it. In moments of great turmoil and thoughtful considerations, I much rather be alone with my swirling issues and troubled mind.

Rakepick can't be seen by the classroom door and Merula is already installed on her seat next to Ismelda. They both flash me petulant smirks as I make my way to my usual table, where I sit between Rowan and Tulip. The chalkboard in front of the classroom tells me that today's lecture is about porcupine quills. I open my book on the chapter about the subject and wait for the lesson to start.

Professor Snape leaves his office, carrying a box with, what seems to be, many different porcupine quills. Some of them are plain brown, some are striped in taupe and white, some are black and there's even a very curious one, which seems to be silver.

"As you have probably noticed, today we will be discussing porcupine quills and their many uses in potion making," he says, sharply. "Who can tell me the main potions in which this ingredient can be used?"

This time, I don't raise my hand. It doesn't prevent Professor Snape from landing his eyes upon me, but I don't sustain his stare and simply focus on the book in front of me. Next to me, I see Rowan shyly raise her hand.

"Yes, Miss Khanna," Professor Snape says.

I watch her swallow hard before answering. "It can be used in the preparation of the Cure for Boils and the Elixir to Induce Euphoria."

"Indeed," he says, simply. "And who can tell me other uses for this ingredient, apart from potion making?"

On the other side of the classroom, Liz raises her hand. "It can be used to make the Porcupine Robe, which protects the wearer from anyone who tries to physically attack them."

"Correct, Miss Tuttle. Now pay close attention to the lecture. Some questions about it will definitely be on your exams."

Rowan immediately dips her pen in the ink and starts to write every single word he says. She highlights every part he seems to put emphasis on and even takes note on some books he mentions about common potion ingredients.

I try to keep myself attentive to the lesson and ignore the thoughts that keep on piercing my mind. That a man – strange, dark and bizarre – knows something about my brother. That such information is going to cost me… a lot. That, no matter what I do, I can't seem to get closer to Jake.

When the lecture ends, I look at my notes: sloppy, kinda messy and overall awful. I make a small reminder on the side, to remake them properly. The watch on my wrist tells me it's ten after three. I rip off a page of my notebook and scribble a message to Alistair Fidgen.

I'll have your money after Christmas. Can you wait until then?

I have twenty minutes until the first Quidditch practice of the year; time enough to rush to the Owlery to send my shady message to the shadiest wizard ever.

Merlin, I hope he waits…

Everyone is participating the Quidditch practice. Not only the new players – Penelope, Sebastian and Vicky -, but also our deputies. Blair is exultant to be able to join us and help if I'm ever unable to play. The boys chose Stella as a beater deputy, Noelle as a keeper and Sky as a chaser. I'm pretty optimistic with our team selection. I think that, with enough dedication, we might beat Charlie and Gryffindor this year.

"In honour of our former Captain, let's run around the pitch a few times to warm up," I say, and they look at me like I'm crazy. "Am I being unclear? C'mon! Chop chop!"

If there's something to be said about the whole process of leading them, is that it is immensely fun. I run right after Blair, that is last in line, and accompany them, calling for more laps, until we complete five. We all stop, catching our breaths, and I wipe the sweat from my forehead.

"All to your brooms!" I say, and our practice finally begins.

Our new team additions are exceptional. Sebastian proves to be a wonderful beater, and Vicky and Penelope are swift and agile. Even our deputies are incredible, raising the hope inside of me that, this year, we'll have the Quidditch Cup back.

Blair catches the Snitch as many time as I do. When I graduate and she takes my place, she'll be a hundred times better than she is now. I don't know what her career goals are, but if she ever decides to follow a career in Quidditch, she'll definitely be famous. Her movements are natural, and her sharp eyes can spot the spark of the golden ball even if it's flying on the other side of the pitch.

Andre, Sebastian and Stella engage in a never-ending duel against the Bludgers, which seem to return to them with such rage that is almost like they understand that they're being mistreated.

An hour later, sweaty and tired, I dismiss them with a smile on my face. My body feels relaxed and my mind feels at ease. I return my broom to the Broom Closet and find my way back to Ravenclaw Tower for a much-deserved shower. I change into normal clothes and find a place to lounge in the common room.

I calmly redo all my Potions notes and do a little research on porcupine quills on all my extra books about potions. The process adds to the tranquillity I'm feeling, and, for a while, I forget about Alistair and his dragon egg. I dip my raven quill inside the inkpot and make some more annotations on the edges of the paper, pulling arrows to add important information and adding some footnotes about potions that I'm interested in learning. I'm so concentrated that I almost jump out of my skin when Talbott shows up, unannounced and extremely quiet, from behind the sofa.

"Holy Merlin!" I gasp, placing my hand instinctively upon my racing heart.

He giggles. "What was keeping you so focused?"

I take a few long breaths before answering. "I was studying forms of depluming eagles."

He smirks. "It's almost dinner time."

I look at my watch. I spent the whole afternoon studying and redoing my notes. I run my fingers across my lower lids, to awaken myself, being careful not to rub my hands over my mascara. Talbott gently grabs my books, notebook and quill and places it softly upon the thick rug in front of the sofa. He then finds a place next to me, leaning on to place a burning hot kiss upon my lips.

His scent numbs me before I even have the chance to kiss him back. The involving smell of cinnamon, clove and nutmeg makes me feel like I'm diving inside cookie dough. It's sweet and warm and delicious and makes my entire body melt in his arms.

The sound of hooting owls in the distance, crickets and his body resting dangerously over me is all I can hear. The common room, empty and silent, engulfs us in it relentless yet strange sensuality. The sofa seems softer and every sound is enhanced, echoing back to my ears and making my heart race with every touch. My cheeks blush when I feel his black robe falling onto the floor, and even harder when I find myself boldly wrapping my fingers around the buttons of his shirt.

This isn't any different of what we've been doing all summer. The main difference is that, back in our apartments in Brighton, and under the hot summery sun, we weren't wearing much to begin with. We always had naked arms and legs and we never felt like removing much more. This time, however, it's different. We're separated by so many layers of clothes and by the sight of immorality that it's makes it almost unbearable to be so far away from his ablaze skin.

Talbott's touch, always gentle and chivalrous, is also subliminally sensual and full of second intentions. He whispers poem verses by my ear, kisses me ardently on the corner of my lips and leaves a burning trail down my jaw, neck and collarbone. Each contact, sensation and texture take me away to our own private world, where we lay upon rosemary fields and taste the morning tea on each other lips. The softness of his hair strands in between my fingers make me forget everything: my brother, Penny and Beatrice, Alistair and the egg, detention and Quidditch duties, Rakepick and my promises to Professor Snape. Inside Talbott's arms, everything else disappears.

It isn't until our bodies are extremely pressed together and that my legs wrap around his hips that I finally feel it. I have felt it before, but not with this intensity. It's a desire… a lustful wish. An almost unbearable will to be even closer to him. It makes me blush severely and brings my heart to an unhinged race. And the fact that I can feel – so distinct and hard – that he wants me just as much, is what finally brings me back to reality; to the fact that we're making out in the middle of our common room. A snog that, in another place, could easily lead to something else.

I push him away gently. "We should go eat dinner."

He smiles softly; his lips reddish. He places a delicate kiss upon my lips before stepping back, buttoning his shirt and offering me his hand. I fix my hair and my wrinkled clothes, rushing to my dorm to leave my bag and books, and return to the common room to accompany him to the Great Hall.

My heart, beating heavily the entire time, makes me write a mental note to myself. Something that, if things continue to proceed in this pace, I should have in hands.

The time has come for me to ask Rowan about the Persephone's Pome potion.

Seventeen pomegranate seeds touched by moonlight.

Dried snapdragon petals.

Rose quartz powder.

Hellebore syrup.

And, surprisingly, three porcupine quills.

Though the ingredients aren't quite hard to find, the colour of the potion makes it very distinguishable. Despite the confidence that I'm trying to project that I'm being smart and taking care of myself, I also feel anxious by the thought that anyone can see that I'm drinking such potion.

And by anyone, I just mean my dad.

I spend the following week thinking about the conversation he had with me and the several attempts to talk to me about the subject. The thing about the Erumpent couple… just makes me shiver with embarrassment. I drown in thoughts, considering talking to Madam Pomfrey about, but end up talking to my best friend instead.

"Rowan," I say, at Friday night, when we're studying together in the library. The potion, safely stored in ten amber flasks inside my nightstand drawer, is done and concealed by the flasks' colour. "When we spent Christmas at the Weasleys… and you and Charlie…"

She raises her eyes to look at me from behind her glasses and her cheeks blush a little. "Yes?"

I swallow hard. "What… made you realise… it was the right moment?"

She blinks a few times. "Well, I… I don't know for sure. I really… wanted to be with Charlie. It felt right."

"Did you question your age?" I ask her.

She shrugs. "Sometimes I still do. I wonder if I shouldn't have waited… but then again... Well, I don't know. It felt like the right moment," she says, looking away. "Also, my family is very... sufocating. I've been told my whole life to be a pure girl and marry untouched, but it just sounds... Ugh, it sounds stupid. Makes me feel repressed, to say the very least."

I look down. "Sorry, Row."

"It's okay, Athie," she says. "At least I'm being able to ejoy my life. Somehow, Hogwarts is my freedom away from home."

I smile softly. "And... how… how was it?

She blushes. "A little weird. I felt comfortable, but also a little self-aware of everything. And it was just a tiny bit painful, but definitely less than being struck with a jinx."

I smile, timidly, feeling a little stupid. "Thanks for… hmm… the recipe."

A smile appears on her lips. "Anytime. And don't worry about it so much, Athie. You're dating an impressive gentlemen. Talbott won't pressure you if you're not ready."

I blush furiously. "I know. It's not about him that I'm worried about."

She smirks. "Oh, my dear sinner friend. Who would've thought that behind such witty blue eyes lurks the soul of a libertine?"

"Who the hell are you? Marquis de Sade?" I say with a giggle.

She smiles. "No. I'm your best friend and I'm truly happy to be able to walk through all these womanhood phases next to you."

I smile back. "Yeah. Me too," I say, looking down. "I wonder if Tal is worried about these things too."

She giggles. "Oh, Athie. He most certainly is."

There are agitated chattering on the following day, right outside of the library, when Rowan and I leave after lunch, carrying some Herbology books. A few younger students seem to be involved in an excited talk about someone else and we can't help but overhear their conversation.

"A beautiful woman, yes," one of them says. "Wearing a hijab."

"How do you even know that it is called a hijab?" another boy says.

"I read One Thousand and One Nights and did some research about it," he says. "It's an amazing culture."

"That book is for girls."

"I'm not the one with a copy of Little Women under the pillow, having a crush on Laurie," the boy replies.

"I have a crush on Beth and you know it."

"Yeah, right."

Rowan and I giggle, but we can't help but wonder who this mysterious women in the hijab is. Along the corridor, many other conversations break through, all regarding the beautiful stranger.

"She went straight to Dumbledore's office," a seventh-year Slytherin says. "Was carrying a bunch of books on Magical Art."

"I could care less about the books she was carrying," her friend says. "I only had eyes for her gown. I'm positively sure it was made of the finest silk. So black that I could almost see myself reflected in the fabric. And that starry hijab? I wonder if I'd look good with something similar."

"Don't be silly, Margot. That's part of her culture. You'd just look like an idiot."

"You're just jealous that I can pull off purple eyeshadow and you can't."

I look at Rowan with a frown. Knowing the Headmaster's odd ways of dealing with things, he must've called someone to deal with Beatrice's curse. I hold the books firmly in my arms – a little too firm, and the hardcover leaves marks in my forearms -, wondering if the stranger will end up being just like Rakepick.

Other discussions about the woman seem to follow us all the way to the Greenhouses, but when we meet our friends and sit to listen to Professor Sprout's lecture, silence falls upon us. The only chattering is the one inside my head, where the many Athenas within me seem to be extremely interested in discussing Dumbledore's whimsical ideas.

"Good afternoon, everyone," Professor Sprout says. "Today we shall study this beauty over here," he indicates a long flower box with many lined pink flowers. Their many long petals are arranged in a torch shape and the long white stamens have delicate blue lines that make the flowers look extremely ethereal. "Who can tell me what these are?"

For Professor Sprout's surprise, Tonks is the one who raises the hand. "It's a Swamp Pink, Professor."

"Correct, Miss Tonks," she replies. "Five points to Hufflepuff. Now, who can tell me its main properties?"

"It's a water plant that can be used to escape from many aquatic beasts. All you need to do is crush it in your hand and it releases a toxin that repels mainly carnivorous beasts," Tonks says.

"Impressive, Miss Tonks," Professor Sprout says. "I see you've been reading Winogrand's Wondrous Water Plants, correct?"

Tonks nods.

"Very well. Ten points to Hufflepuff."

Tulip smiles at Tonks, who smiles back proudly.

"Unfortunatelly, this is an extremely endangered species," Professor Sprout says. "So what I'll be teaching you today is how to extract the seeds and properly plant them, in order to disseminate this plant."

We are talked through the steps to prepare the perfect soil mixture – moss, peat, clay and a dash of quartz sand – and then through the delicate and extremely precise process of separating the fertilized flowers from the others. It takes a lot of eye-hand coordination to cut the tiny fruit in half to get to the seeds, which are even smaller. To put them in the vases, we need to poke a hole in the soil with our fingers and add specifically three seeds to each hole and then add a tiny bit of Eartha's Magical Fertilizer before covering it with soil. It's a delicate process, but at least it keeps my mind busy.

Rowan, next to me, deals with the difficulty of handling the seeds with a long tweezer, but right next to her, Tulip and Tonks seem to be having an immensity of fun.

When the lesson ends, our gloves are covered in dirt and our shoulder muscles are tired and sore. We walk back to the castle to the next class, which is Transfiguration. Tonks and Tulip walk nearby, but Penny leaves a large space between us and has her nose buried in a book of mossy green pages.

"You were amazing today, Tonks," I say.

She looks at me surprised and smile. "Thank you. My mother actually gave me an incredibly long lecture about performing well academically or I'd lose my allowance to buy prank items and, well… let's just say it was effective."

"In the end, she values pranks more than she values education," Tulip adds with an amused grin.

"Well, pranks are important too," Rowan says. "You two have proved that more than enough, helping with the Cursed Vaults with the pranks."

Tonks winks at her. "This is all I need in my life."

As we enter the Courtyard, the conversations about the mysterious woman seem to buzz in my ears once more. The reason for it is more than clear. There is a tall easel right next to the fountain, made of a light, beautiful wood, holding a big canvas. Behind the easel, delicately holding a wooden paint palette in one hand and a long, thin brush in the other, is the beautiful stranger that wears a hijab.

Just like many before have described, she's truly beautiful. Not much taller than me, she seems to be twenty-something years old. Her skin is the colour of aspen and as I walk closer, I can see that she has caramel eyes framed by long and thick eyelashes. Her makeup is flawlessly done – a well-blended brown eyeshadow and a delicate black line along her lash line, complemented with a soft, glossy nude lipstick. Her clothes seem to be, in fact, made of the finest of silks. It seems soft and the colour is intensely black. The hijab she wears cover all her hair, which must be dark, given the colour of her perfectly shaped eyebrows. The fabric seems soft and mystical, of the deepest blue shade, bearing many delicate stars.

"Who is she?" Rowan whispers at me.

As if she heard us, the woman turns her head at Rowan and flashes her the most beautiful smile, of perfect teeth and glistening eyes. Her face then returns to the canvas in front of her, which has many strokes of red and grey paint.

"Holy cow," Rowan says when we reach the castle's door. "That was… hypnotic."

"I know!" I say. "I don't think I've ever seen someone so… magical."

"I don't know what she's doing in this castle, but she will surely mesmerize a lot of people," she adds. "I just pray that she doesn't make Charlie stare for too long."

The mysterious painter doesn't join us for dinner at the Great Hall, but that isn't the most shocking happening. The fact that the centre seat is again occupied by a much chuffed Dumbledore is what startles me. He's wearing long, lavender robes, and his pointy hat is of a mustard colour. Professor McGonagall, next to him, seems to be a bit vexed about their conversation, and talks without taking her eyes of her plate.

I sit between Rowan and Tal, biting my lip nervously. Talbott instantly holds my hand and entwines our fingers, placing a kiss on my knuckles. He flashes me an understanding little smile and dinner proceeds as usual, with me trying to ignore Dumbledore's presence in the room.

I wait until we are back in the common room to start passive-aggressively breathing, feeling anger taking control of me again. I crash on the couch in front of the fireplace and cross my arms, watching as Tulip and Rowan sit on the rug while Talbott finds a place by my feet, on the other end of the couch.

"He returns as if it's no big deal," I mumble. "Not a shadow of an explanation… Beatrice is still trapped inside that portrait and he seems to feel zero preoccupation."

The girls look at me with concern and Tal places her hand on my ankle.

"He's not worried because he knows you 'll solve this, Athie," Rowan says. "I told you that it wouldn't surprise me if you found answers in these punishments he creates for you."

"Dumbledore follows the beat of his own drums," Tulip adds. "Until the Cursed Vaults are no longer a threat, he'll continue to act like you are just a puppet."

I bite my lip. "This is unfair. My brother is still missing. Penny's sister is missing. How long until there's no one in this castle left to fight?"

"We will find an end to this curse, Athie," Rowan says. "We always do."

I look at her and sigh. "Look at me. A curse to break and I'm here whining. This is not the moment to behave like this."

I get up and head to the window, planting my hands on the sill. The night sky greets me with clouds and no stars. Not entirely dull, but it's extremely uninspiring. Inside of me I find the strength to continue with my task. I can't be petty and whiny and complain over and over again about Dumbledore's unfairness. I must give him the other face. A face that he will remembers when all of this is over and I have my brother by my side again.

I look back at Rowan, Tulip and Tal. They are staring at me with a mixture of concern and curiousness.

"Dumbledore must have a plan beneath it all. It annoys me that he sees us as pawns, but I'll show him we're not," I say firmly.

"Of course we're not," Rowan says. "We're Ice Queens, remember? And in chess, what does the Queen does?"

A strange fire seems to suddenly fill my heart. I look through the window, feeling my soul burn in a thousand colours of flames. A subtle smile appears in my lips. "A Queen does whatever the fuck she wants."

The dawn is quiet when I stroll lonelily to the kitchens to deal with detention. The air is fresh and it smells like rain, but the fire inside my heart still burns strong. Rowan's words fill my mind with hope and purpose. I feel more vigorous and determined than before, which is weird when I remember my whining the night before.

I quick look through the window tells me that the day will be beautiful. There are no clouds on the sky anymore; just a lovely dawn in all shades of pink. My intestines twirl when I spot the familiar easel and silky dress by the Courtyard, like a spectrum in the first light of day. The mysterious woman looks like she's part of a bigger painting. A painting of stones, water and sunrise.

I look at my watch. I have fifteen minutes until I need to present myself to Pitts. If a Queen does what she wants, then nothing will prevent me from questioning the enigmatic painter.

I deviate my path a little bit, walking swiftly until the Courtyard's entrance. The woman doesn't seem to notice my presence. She's concentrated, making arabesques of sparks with the wand in front of the now finished painting.

The strokes of red and grey became a bridge surrounded by roses. It's so perfect and realistic that it feels like looking through a window. The sparks stop when she turns to look at me, smiling as beautifully as she smiled at Rowan.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," I say, politely.

"It's okay," she says and her accent is soft and delicate like her. "Isn't it a bit too early for you to be awake?"

"I have detention to attend," I tell her. "But seeing you painting at dawn called my attention."

She smiles again. "What is your name, dear?"

I bite my lip. "Athena."

"It's a beautiful name," she says. "I have painted the goddess before. I quite enjoy exploring the art in every single culture. I'm Badeea Ali, by the way."

Her voice is calm like a lake and when her eyes return to the painting, they seem to sparkle.

"May I ask what kind of magic you are doing?" I ask.

"Enchantments to make sure my painting comes to life like it's supposed to," she says, gently. "Years of experience still don't make this process less complicated."

"What are you painting?"

"This lovely bridge that I saw on my way to this school," she tells me. "I'm taking a break from studying Beatrice Haywood's painting."

"That's why you're here?" I ask. "To take her out of the painting?"

She nods. "I'm going to try. Fascinating thing, this curse. Can you imagine being trapped in an imaginary environment? You'd begin to question what was truly real, and who was really in control of your thoughts and actions."

I look away, my thoughts suddenly swept all the way to the Grand Staircase. "I'm not sure if I find it fascinating."

She giggles. "I adore magical art. I'm painting a portrait of Beatrice to try and rescue her. This bridge here is just… like a palate cleanser."

"Sounds like a paradox," I say. "Painting a portrait of a girl inside another portrait. Is it working?"

"Not yet, but I still have buckets of paint and pages of spells to try."

I look at my watch. "Ms. Ali, do you think you could explain to me how the portraits work? When you're not busy painting Bea, of course."

She looks at me and smiles. "Of course. There's nothing I enjoy more than talking about art. Oh, and you can call me Badeea."

"Thank you… Badeea."

"Thank you for the lovely conversation, Athena."

I'm not quite sure if I'd call our conversation lovely, but I don't question her. I rapidly walk back to my pathway towards the kitchen, eager to know more about the mysterious Badeea Ali and the magical portraits. Maybe, if I learn enough, I'll be able to help free Beatrice.

Something inside of me reminds me of Rowan's words. That Dumbledore places these enigmas in front of me, for me to figure them out by myself. What if he brought this beautiful stranger to the castle in order to make me learn more about magical portraits and how to rescue Beatrice and put an end to the curse?

Questions, questions…

* Paint A New World, by Helloween.