Shelter From the Storm
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Part One: The Dementors of Azkaban
Chapter Ten: The Hufflepuff Invasion
Rose doesn't know how to talk to Neville. She tells Hermione what she learns, the brunette sensibly horrified and outraged and frightened. Thoughts of speaking with her closest male friend about the matter, however, fills her up with such a muddled sense of anger, and hurt, anxiety and dread and betrayal, and Rose just can not deal with him, or with the conversation they all know they - that is, Hermione, Neville, and Rose herself - need to have. Not yet.
How could he not have told them? Are they somehow untrustworthy? Does he not believe they need - or have a right - to know? How could they possibly protect themselves when they don't even know they need to?
More important, though, is the omnipresent question: Where on Earth are the teachers?
In the days following her discussions with Katie, with Angelina and Alicia, Fred and George and Oliver, Rose wrestles with these - and many other - questions. She avoids Neville - the chasers, and all her other male friends, too - for days, spends those days in turmoil over what she's learned, and attempts valiantly to come to terms with it all.
For the most part, she fails, and her schoolwork suffers for the trouble. Even as Rose throws herself into her studies in order to try and focus on something - anything - else, it's hard to feel particularly invested in her education when it seems as though there is something far more important to worry about. Again.
"I wanted to head to the library. Will you come with me? Please? I don't want to go alone."
Rose acquiesces with a nod and not much else. She feels inexplicably drained - by the long day of classes, by the weather, by her own circulating thoughts - but she can't find it in herself to refuse Hermione's entreaty. They'll have to speak with the other girls in their dorm soon - Lavender and Fay and Parvati - but until then, they cling to each other, go nowhere alone, insist the others follow suit. The others don't have details, but stupid they are not, and they can catch a clue when it more or less slaps them in the face. They only await confirmation Hermione and Rose aren't ready to give, but soon…
"Do you want us to come?" Lavender asks. Rose can't remember the last time she offered to do so. Before this week, anyway.
Probably never.
"Thanks, but that's okay," Hermione says, smile wan, "We'll manage. Just…"
"Stick together," Fay concludes. Rose can't make sense of her expression. Bitter, wry, rueful, maybe. - Or perhaps Rose is looking too deeply into nothing at all. "Don't worry. We will."
They part ways at the stairs, and Rose and Hermione's walk to the library is spent in a silence neither of them know how to fill. Nearly everything seems inconsequential in light of the weekend's revelations. The subjects that don't - Sirius Black, the Peverell Estate, Rose's Patronus Program - have already been discussed, at length, and they're both tired of repeating themselves.
"Do you want to study together?" Hermione asks.
Rose eyes her dubiously. "Do you really think that's wise?"
Hermione pulls a face. "I guess not."
"How about we mete at the main entrance in a couple of hours instead? Say, five o'clock? We can have dinner before the rush."
Hermione nods, pleased with the compromise. "Where will you be studying?"
"I have to work on Transfiguration. You?"
"Charms."
Rose grimaces. She doesn't relish Professor Flitwick's most recent essay topic. "Good luck."
Hermione muffles a short burst of laughter behind her hand. "Thanks. You too."
They part ways then, and Rose meanders her way through the Hogwarts library, thoughts already on Professor McGonagall's long-answer questions. She is diverted and disgruntled, however, by the startling number of Hufflepuff students scattered throughout the Transfiguration section. They take note of her, watch her with varying degrees of subtlety, and Rose - as she seeks out an empty table among the stacks - genuinely contemplates taking Hermione up on her offer, perhaps setting aside Transfiguration for another night, getting far away from the badger collective she'd unwittingly walked into.
The only thing that keeps her from doing so is her pride: Rose isn't about to be cowed by a gathering of Hufflepuffs, of all things, but Godric, do they not have a common room to gather in?
Unavoidably conscious of the scrutiny she's under, Rose deposits her things in a study carroll somewhat removed from the Transfiguration Section's main study area, hidden away behind the stacks. It's set into a charming little alcove illuminated by the waning light of Scotland's afternoon sun, shining through an arched window set to Rose's left, and she's baffled as to why it's not already occupied by a solitary Ravenclaw or Slytherin.
Probably because they find the Hufflepuff tendency to travel and study en mass rather off-putting.
Not that Rose would or does blame them.
Whatever case, Rose doesn't dwell on the quandary for long. Their loss is her gain, after all. Instead, she settles in to make a start on her homework, procrastinates with her quill and parchment and inkwell, contemplates a perusal of the available reference materials, but eventually, reluctantly, she sets about completing the most recent task Professor McGonagall had set the third years.
She doesn't get two sentences into her answer for the first of the long-answer questions before her focus is disrupted by the presence of Susan Bones, Ernie MacMillan, and Justin Finch-Fletchley in her alcove.
They make her uncomfortable, actually, crowding her in as they do, and because of it - not to mention their history - Rose greets them with only the barest of civility.
"May I help you?"
"Could we talk, Rose?" Susan asks. She fiddles with her fingers, shifts restlessly on her feet, struggles to maintain eye contact.
Rose eyes her only way out of the alcove, presently blocked by the trio, but bites her tongue on the first answer that comes to mind. Blaise's words resound in her ears - "Bones and MacMillan are idiots, but they'll be politically powerful idiots in a few years. Maybe don't burn your bridges with them just yet," - and Rose can recognise good advice when she receives it. It even applies to Finch-Fletchley, in a fashion, because his father is an MP in the non-magical government, and one can never know when a connection like that - or a favour owed - might come in useful.
"Sure," she acquiesces, her tone polite, but not much else, "What would you like to speak about?"
"We-" Susan falters, glances at her friends, clenches her linked fingers in front of her, and continues, "We wanted to apologise. For last year."
Ernie and Justin nod their agreement.
"Our behaviour was unacceptable, and we should never have treated you as we did," Justin adds.
Ernie takes up the thread. "It's no excuse, but we were scared, and you were a convenient scapegoat."
"We really are sorry," Susan concludes.
Rose sardonically wonders if they'd rehearsed their speech, or if the conspiracy out of Ravenclaw is true and Hufflepuffs actually share a hive mind. As she does though, she eyes them critically. She can't forget that they'd called her names, hexed her at every opportunity, ostracised and vilified her for the better part of a year. They'd called into question her honour as a daughter of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, told her she was an insult to her parents' memories, insisted she ought to have died the night of Samhain, 1981, and although they hadn't been the only ones, among their cohort, they'd certainly been the ringleaders.
That said, Rose has every reason to refuse the trio's apology.
In fact, blood feuds had been sworn for less.
But then…
"Apologies accepted," she says, and the trio slump in relief, "But you lot owe me. A couple of favours each. No questions asked, and no time limit."
"Nothing illegal," Susan insists.
"Obviously."
Susan's aunt (and guardian) is the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. As such - discounting the fact they're not remotely friends - Rose wouldn't go to Susan for an illegal favour if someone paid her.
Susan nods, mollified. "A couple of favours each, then. No questions asked, and no time limit."
Rose glances at Ernie and Justin, expectant. They share a glance, but after a moment, they each verbalise their acquiescence, as well.
"Good," Rose acknowledges, satisfied. "Was that all?"
"That was all," Susan confirms, smiles awkwardly, and shifts on her feet. "We'll leave you to your homework."
It's not quite a question, but Rose nods anyway, and the trio depart. Rose is left to her own devices, the setting sun and the stacks of reference books her only company.
It's the first time she's been truly, properly alone in days, and despite the homework she has no particular desire to return to, Rose intends to enjoy it.
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By the time Rose reaches the front entrance of the Hogwarts Library, Hermione hasn't yet arrived. Rose is early though - if only by a few minutes - and in contrast, Hermione is meticulously punctual. She has also been known to be sucked into a timeless void of research and reference materials, and it's entirely possible that an afternoon of Charms research has resulted in another such incident.
In that case, Rose will have to make her way to the Charms section in order to recover her ceaselessly curious friend, but until Hermione proves to actually be late, Rose opts to slump against the empty stretch of wall beside the library's doors. She avoids eye contact with the assorted students who pass her by, fidgets restlessly with the tasseled ends of her scarf, makes a valiant attempt not to watch the clock, and nearly jumps out of her skin when Cedric Diggory props himself against the wall beside her.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I saw you earlier, but you looked busy, and I didn't want to distract you."
"It's fine," Rose answers, "Did you need something?"
"I just wanted to see how you're going," Cedric explains, "You've seemed a bit off these last few days. Is something wrong?"
"Yes, well, I recently found out there are students going around assaulting girls in this school, the teachers are doing nothing, as usual, and for some reason, everyone in the know thought it wasn't important to tell the rest of us - that is, the potential victims - about the threat."
Cedric winces. "You found out?"
"Should I not have?"
"You didn't need to know. We're dealing with it."
"Don't I? And who is 'we?'"
"They've only gone after upper years," Cedric explains, "And when I say 'we', I mean most of the blokes in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw."
"Why?"
"Because their actions are a disgrace, and they have to be punished accordingly."
"I don't understand."
"Gentlemen's honour," Cedric explains, which doesn't really clear anything up at all.
Rose doesn't have the opportunity to press for details, however. Hermione finally makes an appearance, as does a handful of Cedric's fellow badgers.
"Hi," Hermione greets her. They link arms, and Hermione offers Cedric a polite nod before she addresses Rose once more. "Are you ready to go?"
Rose glances at Cedric, drawn into conversation with his friends, and nods. "Yes, let's go. I'm starving."
Without further ado, they leave the library, and Rose regrets that she can't leave behind her conversation with Cedric Diggory, as well.
"Is everything all right?" Hermione asks, concerned.
Rose offers her a sideways glance, and smiles, mirthless. "No. Nothing is all right."
Hermione hugs her linked arm close. "Things will get better. They always do."
Rose isn't so sure. The things going on in the castle aren't just a case of fighting bad guys, good triumphing over evil, saving the day. It carries social and cultural connotations, brings into light the continued disparity between the rights of witches and wizards - men and women - and it isn't so easily resolved as hexing gits or stabbing diaries or solving puzzles. All the same…
"One can only hope."
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Rewritten: September 18th 2020 - October 29th, 2020.
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