Song rec: "A Pillar of Salt" by The Thermals
October, 1992 - May, 1993
It began on Hallowe'en night. Hestia hadn't seen it, but there had been bloody writing on the wall saying, "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware." The caretaker's cat was what they called "Petrified," which didn't make any sense, and when Flora said, "cat-aleptic," Hestia didn't get the joke.
There was no joke to be had, though, because the Petrifications continued. The next one came in early November: a Gryffindor Muggle-born named Colin Creevey lay in the Hospital Wing, frozen stiff, next to the cat bed. Ten days later, a Hufflepuff Muggle-born named Justin was found Petrified behind the Gryffindor House Ghost. Even the ghost was Petrified: completely motionless, speechless, and unresponsive.
Though they didn't want to, Hestia and Flora went home for Christmas holiday just to avoid whatever was Petrifying humans, animals, and ghosts alike. Suspended animation sounded worse than Amycus and Alecto. At least at the time it had.
The girls were pleasantly surprised to meet their father at King's Cross Station but less excited about travelling by the Portkey he had. When they requested to go to Diagon Alley with him first, he said no. The Portkey of their father's wallet was a rougher trip than their aunt and uncle's Apparition, but at least he was the first person they saw instead of them.
The elder twins had apparently had a last hurrah before the girls' return home. They weren't around when the girls came in, but the kitchen sink was uncharacteristically messy. They had their absinthe spoons, glasses, and bottles everywhere. It looked like they had even indulged in rolling some betony cigarettes. The spicy, earthy smell lingered in the air.
Good to know you missed us so dearly, Hestia thought.
Dad had missed them, at least. He asked them all about school. Hestia and Flora both dressed the story up for him a bit, saying that their marks were a tad better than they were, and that they had made "a couple friends."
Hestia and Dad were thinking of what to make for supper when the elder twins arrived for breakfast. Amycus shoved Dad away from the cupboards and put on a pot of coffee. Alecto slumped in the chair across Flora and rubbed her brow.
Hestia was just starting to talk about the Petrifications, but she knew by the look on Alecto's face that she would be forcibly Silenced if she kept talking. The smell of coffee overpowered the betony. Amycus slammed a cup of it in front of Alecto.
"I ain't that hungover, Am."
"Drink it."
"It's too blasted bitter," Alecto complained.
"'It's too blasted bitter,'" Amycus mimicked in a high voice.
Alecto sent a spell over to Amycus that made him jump with a yelp. He turned round with a laugh big enough to shatter his grumpiness. But his laughter died once the Heir of Slytherin conversation continued between Dad and Flora.
"What's this about an heir of Slytherin? What the bloody hell are you sayin'?"
"That's what was written on the wall. 'Enemies of the heir, beware.' And there's been two students Petrified, a cat, and a ghost," said Flora.
Amycus and Alecto shared a look.
"Well, enemies of any Slytherin would be Mudbloods," Alecto said quietly as Amycus poured the milk in her cereal.
"I don't want no talk of no Heir of Slytherin," Amycus said crossly, using the last of the milk in his own cereal (Hestia and Dad would have to change their supper plans).
Dad spoke up in concern, "Well, if there's students ending up in the Hospital Wi—"
"They'll be fine," Amycus snapped. "Some sort of Mudblood illness."
That was easy for him to say. He hadn't been there to see it! There were dead chickens all over Hagrid's coop and frozen people in the Hospital Wing!
"What if it gets us… by mistake?" Hestia worried aloud.
"Mistake‽" Amycus shouted. "Are you tellin' me the magic in your veins is a mistake, Hestia Carrow‽ That you're weak enough for some whatever-heir-thing to mistake you as a Mudblood‽ We'll send you right on back to school tomorrow to test your magic out!"
Hestia cowered away from the spit flying out of him.
"Now take your nonsense to your room — your whinging's gonna make your aunt's headache worse!"
"Oh, as if your shouting isn't," Hestia grumbled as she and Flora stood to leave.
She was seen out by a painful smack of a hex on her back. As they trudged up the staircase, they could hear Amycus and the perfectly-fine Alecto talking it over.
"If them Mudbloods are freezin' up like that… ain't that what happens when you look at a basilisk in a mirror or somethin'?" Alecto guessed.
"Basso-lisk?" Amycus asked, half-yawning.
"Yeah, y'know, that thing you get when you hatch a chicken egg under a toad," said Alecto, yawning the other half.
"Aw, Allie, that's just how Mum and Dad made Aban!" Amycus said snidely, and Alecto wheezed with laughter.
Dad, who hadn't stuck up for himself, came upstairs with supper for the girls an hour later. They all three dined in the girls' bedroom to stay away from the other two.
Winter was the same as it was every year. Amycus and Alecto spent all their time waxing poetic down memory lane about their grandmother's Yule celebrations, and none of their time having a celebration of their own. The only decorations were the paper snowflakes Hestia, Flora, and Dad cut to string in their windows.
"Mine are pretty ugly," Dad chuckled. "Give me some of yours, Hestia."
"You can have two to replace the really wonky ones."
Hestia tried to string her snowflakes evenly, so that Amycus wouldn't come tearing them down once he saw them. Her snowflakes stayed up until Yule. She must have done it right.
Suspiciously, no attacks had occurred at Hogwarts during Christmas holiday. That was why when the students returned, Professor Snape, the Head of Slytherin, interviewed all of his students. Today was Hestia and Flora's turn. Professor Snape's office was stranger than any other teacher's. He had jars of pickled animal organs and herbs for potionmaking lined on the shelves behind him. Hestia wasn't grossed out — she loved potions — but she was paying much more attention to the cool jars than the conversation.
"Tell me about your family."
Well, that was the worst question anyone could ask. Hestia wanted to say, "Why don't you go ask McGonagall and her friends?" She let Flora do the talking.
"We aren't the heirs of Slytherin," Flora said.
Snape raised his eyebrows into his greasy hair.
"To which other families are you related? Perhaps that will help me decide exactly how related to Slytherin you are…"
Flora answered proudly, "Our mother was a Blodwyn. The largest pure-blood house in Wales."
"M-hm, and what about your grandmother?" Snape asked.
Flora skipped a generation and said, "Our great-grandmother married a Karkaroff. He took her name. But he was a Karkaroff. No Slytherin connection."
"M-hm," said Snape disinterestedly. "And what about any Rosiers?"
"Rosiers? No," said Flora.
(The Rosiers were rich).
"Then to whom are you related, Miss Carrow?"
Flora straightened her back and said, "We have connections with the Fawleys. And the Borgins… that is, the pure-blood branch of the Borgins. And some of the Burkes."
"Any, ah, Sayres?"
"No," said Flora.
"Any Gaunts?"
"No."
"I once heard you were connected to the Peverells."
"We are, Professor. Our house predates the House of Peverell and succeeds it," said Flora importantly.
"Well, Miss Carrow, the Peverells are related to the Gaunts," Snape said slickly, and Flora started tapping her foot. "I don't expect you to know your entire genealogy, but I would appreciate you not telling me bare-faced lies."
Flora swallowed hard and clenched her jaw. Hestia thought she would have to talk next, but the problem was she had never read her family's pedigree books. Nor had she paid any attention to Amycus and Alecto's stories about their family history. The only thing helpful Hestia had to say was, "We're not the ones sending a monster after everyone."
"Very nice, Miss Hestia, as I'm certain everyone in the school would say the same thing regardless of their involvement," said Snape.
"But we can't speak Parseltongue!" Flora interjected. "That Potter boy — he spoke it in front of everyone! It's a wonder why he wasn't taken to the Ministry straightaway!"
"As much as I would like for Potter to be removed from our premises, he was here for the holiday, and there have been no incidents," Snape said reluctantly.
"Naturally, that's so he can make himself look innocent! Now that everyone's back, he'll start up again! We aren't the heirs of Slytherin!" Flora exclaimed.
"Look at me, Flora," Snape said severely, and he shot her a glare so harsh that Flora recoiled. He shot the same look to Hestia. It felt nasty, but he seemed satisfied that they were innocent now. He sent them along. Flora flipped her hair and said, "I hate this place."
"It's here or home," Hestia shrugged.
She liked Hogwarts. She got full, hot meals at a large table and didn't have to be around her aunt and uncle. It would be nice if she had more friends and people weren't getting Petrified, but beggars couldn't be choosers.
Hestia spent the next few months coming up with excuses to talk to Rhiannon Clarke. Only five percent of those excuses seemed to work. Rhiannon was always setting her cauldron up next to Olivia Shardlow in Potions, and she sat with Diane Carter in Astronomy. She went to Quidditch games with that same group. The closest Hestia ever got to having a solid conversation was when Rhiannon asked her for the answers to Transfiguration homework. That really hurt.
Hestia retreated into herself after that. It would be her and Flora, the way it always was. That was fine. It wasn't exciting, different, or social, but it was fine. She loved her sister, and any friend of hers would have to be a friend of Flora's anyway. Flora had stopped making effort to make friends; even Hestia recognised that Flora's conversation skills were non-existent. It almost felt like the mystery monster had given up its attacks when two Muggle-born girls were suddenly Petrified in early May.
"Why aren't the teachers doing anything about this?" Hestia complained. "At this point, I'll bet the heir of Slytherin is a teacher!"
As part of an effort to look like they were doing something, the Ministry sacked Headmaster Dumbledore, leaving McGonagall in charge. That did nothing to help, because on the twenty-fourth of May, there was another attack. This attack was different from the others. There was no Petrification. It happened before lunchtime, right after Hestia's D.A.D.A. class had been dismissed.
There had been one student left behind, a student who had dropped her books in the corridor. Montel Davis was the last person with her; he had helped to pick up her books before running off to lunch.
That girl didn't walk as fast as Montel. Some said there were chunks of her arm in pools of blood in the corridor. Her name?
Rhiannon Clarke.
Several people had heard Rhiannon scream. The Heads of Houses had got up instantly, bravely running right towards the sound. Hestia had seen Snape run to the Hospital Wing with the girl in his arms. She remembered his words exactly:
"— and this venom is unlike any I've ever seen. Had I not procured phoenix tears a fortnight ago, Minerva, she'd already be gone—"
Word spread like weeds. Rhiannon Clarke had been the first living person attacked who wasn't Muggle-born. She had also been the first Slytherin. Hestia overheard a few Gryffindors murmuring anxiously to each other moments after the disaster.
"Merlin, when I said all the Slytherins were safe, I didn't mean for this to start happening…"
"It's not like you jinxed it, Lee. How were we supposed to know, anyway?"
Another Gryffindor in the crowd asked, "Why would someone going by the 'Heir of Slytherin' attack their own Slytherins?"
"Unless the Heir knows something about that raggedy Clarke girl that we don't!" shouted Xander Lofthouse, an older Slytherin.
"What, you really think she's a Mudblood?" Marcus Flint asked.
"Could be! She's been claiming to be half-blooded, but I don't know of any Clarkes. And who are her parents, anyway?" Lofthouse snorted.
"Come to think of it, she doesn't seem to know what's going on in class half the time," said Tracey Nettlebed, one of Rhiannon's own roommates.
"Do you think she lied to us? Do you think we've been rooming with a Mudblood?" Imogen Stretton said, aghast.
"Why don't you shut it!" a Gryffindor shouted over. "She's half-dead if you haven't noticed! Your professor just ran past here — we saw the blood!"
"If she's a Mudblood, a LYING Mudblood no less, she deserves to die!" said Imogen Stretton. "I'm telling Mother what happened. It's a good thing that monster sniffed her out!"
"EVERYONE TAKE YOUR SEATS BACK IN THE GREAT HALL!" Professor Sprout scolded on her way past the crowd.
And everyone did. Everyone except Hestia, Flora, and Montel Davis.
"Hestia, come on, let's go," said Flora, tugging on her arm.
"I don't wanna go in there with those people," Hestia scowled. "Do you think she's gonna make it?"
"Merlin, I hope," Montel cut in. "She was only about a hallway behind me! I just saw her. I can't believe I didn't hear that thing… it really does sneak up…"
"Let's go, Hestia. I don't want to be out here if that thing's creeping about."
"But Rhiannon—"
"It's already done, Hestia. You can't do anything," Flora said sternly. "You can't help."
Hestia and Montel looked at each other sadly and followed Flora back to the Great Hall, which was louder than ever before. Nobody could decide whether it was the first attack on a half-blood, or if Rhiannon was the first and only Muggle-born in Slytherin. People seemed to be trending towards the second option. Some Slytherins even said that Rhiannon must have been the target in the first place. The monster must have awakened because it knew its House had been polluted.
"That explains why everyone was Petrified except her. It bit her. It was trying to get rid of the Mudblood in Slytherin!" said Pansy Parkinson.
The phrase "Mudblood in Slytherin" went round so many times that afternoon that Marcus Flint's group decided to shorten it to "Slytherin's Blot." So Rhiannon Clarke didn't even get a name anymore.
All the Greengrasses and their relatives were pulled from school that evening. They weren't the only students to go home, either. Petrifications could be cured with Mandrake Draughts, but there weren't enough phoenix tears to save everybody from mysterious Dark venom.
Hestia couldn't focus in any of her classes. The people surrounding her really felt like Rhiannon deserved to die.
So what if she's from Muggles, Hestia thought angrily. She's just a person. They're talking about her like she's not a person!
Hestia made up her mind to visit Rhiannon Clarke in the Hospital Wing that evening. Flora protested high and low, fearing that anyone who associated with those who were attacked might be attacked, too. Hestia kept walking. Flora kept protesting about what their aunt and uncle would say. And that made Hestia walk even faster.
"You weren't even friends with her!" Flora finally exclaimed.
Flora was right. Hestia didn't have any friends.
"You can either come with me or let me walk alone down the corridors. Because I'm going either way," said Hestia.
Flora grudgingly tagged along to the Hospital Wing. It was located behind large double-doors at the end of a wide corridor full of windows. Hestia assumed the door would be unlocked. She was wrong. So she knocked.
"I don't like this," said Flora.
"Shut it. She almost died."
"She might have already," whispered Flora.
"Shut it! Don't say that," Hestia hissed.
The door viewer unlatched, and the pair of eyes behind them fell upon Hestia. The eyes were the only thing Hestia could see, but she could tell they were not happy.
"What do you need?" asked the Matron.
"We're here to see Rhiannon. Rhiannon Clarke," Hestia said.
"No, sorry, no visitors are permitted at this time."
"Can I come back tomorrow, then?" Hestia requested.
"Visitors have been prohibited since the previous attacks. There aren't to be any visitors, sorry!" said the Matron, and she shut the little panel.
"Well, there you have it, let's go back," said Flora swiftly.
"Now you just wait!" Hestia snapped, and she knocked again.
"What, what is it?" the Matron said irritably, her eyes peeking out the little rectangle again.
"Could you at least tell Rhiannon we were here to see her? So that she knows? She's… she's awake, right?"
Those eyes glared down at them with all the unpleasantness of Professor Snape's.
"I will tell her you were here…" she said slowly. "What are your names?"
"Hestia and Flora."
"Very well. Now run along."
Flora was happy to get back to the common room, but Hestia wasn't giving up. She went to the Hospital Wing the next day, this time with both Flora and Montel at her side. She listened very closely with her ear pressed to the door before bothering to knock.
"We're trying a skin graft this evening, but there's no guarantee it'll work. The creature that bit her was Dark. We're lucky the phoenix tears closed up the wound at all…"
"That's Pomfrey," whispered Hestia to Montel.
Another voice came, "The most you can do is try."
"That's Snape," Hestia whispered again. "They're gonna try to graft Rhiannon's arm."
"She must be missing a pretty bad chunk," Montel said. "I feel so bad. I shoulda stuck behind with her…"
They heard footsteps approaching the door and backed away. Snape looked unpleasantly surprised to see them.
"Eavesdropping, Carrow? Davis?"
"We wanted to see Rhiannon," said Montel.
"No visitors," said Snape tonelessly and strode along, the double-doors locking behind him.
Hestia was furious. She had spent her classes listening to people bad-mouth Rhiannon for being so poor and so "Mudblood." She knocked on the Hospital Wing door.
"You again, Miss?" Madam Pomfrey said in a voice that let Hestia know her time was being wasted.
"Could you tell Rhiannon we came to see her again today? So she knows? Montel Davis is here, too. Could you tell her before her surgery?"
"All right, I will, and you would do well not to wander corridors with so few of you!" Madam Pomfrey said, dismissing them.
Hestia walked away gloomily, Montel guiltily, and Flora gratefully. They startled slightly at the sound of quick footsteps before realising that the monster probably doesn't sound like women's heels. It was Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, and she looked like she was in pain. She was grabbing her shoulder, where Hestia hoped there wasn't a bite…
"Professor, are you all right?" Montel asked.
"Oh, hello, Mr Davis. Yes, I've just dislocated my shoulder," Professor Sinistra said. "What are you three doing here?"
"We were tryna get into see Rhiannon Clarke before her surgery, but we're not allowed."
Professor Sinistra furrowed her brow even more (it was already a bit furrowed in pain).
"Well, I can see not visiting the Petrified students… they're not conscious… but Miss Clarke is in there surrounded by statues, practically. I'm sure she needs some visitors. I can let you in," said the professor.
"You can?" Hestia asked in delight.
"I do count as teacher's permission, I think," Professor Sinistra said with a grin.
Montel knocked on the Hospital Wing door so the professor wouldn't have to further strain herself. The Matron, once again interrupted, arrived.
"Oh, Professor Sinistra," she said, happy that it wasn't Hestia.
"I've dislocated my shoulder, I believe," Professor Sinistra said.
"Come along, come along!" the Matron welcomed, but her face fell when she saw the trio of students.
"I am also giving permission to these three to visit Rhiannon Clarke," Professor Sinistra added only after the doors were open.
"Now just a moment—"
"What's the matter, Madam?" Professor Sinistra asked, cocking her head.
"Well, visitors given faculty permission must be signed-in," Madam Pomfrey said, eyeing the three carefully as she pulled out a chart. "Er, Professor, you may have a seat there… I'll be right over…"
Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat and looked at Montel.
"First and last name…" she asked even though they had told her minutes ago. (Perhaps Madam Pomfrey had not really told Rhiannon they had been to see her…)
"Montel Davis."
"Year and house."
"Slytherin first year."
"And why are you coming to see Rhiannon Clarke?"
"Er… to say hi…" Montel said.
"Go along. She's two beds down from Professor Sinistra."
The Matron then turned to Flora and Hestia. Hestia stepped forward, since it had been her idea. Madam Pomfrey gave her a hard look, up, down, and up again.
"Did your mother go here?"
"Er… I don't think so," said Hestia.
Montel hadn't been asked that question. Madam Pomfrey's lips flattened to a line.
"And your father…?"
"Er, no…?"
"What's your name?"
"Hestia."
"Your full name," the Matron asked, though it seemed like she wasn't writing anything down like she did with Montel…
"Hestia Carrow."
"M-hm," Madam Pomfrey said. "And why, exactly, are you coming to see Rhiannon Clarke? To bully her?"
Hestia gasped a "No!" and used Montel's answer, "To say hi," but what had been enough for Montel's admittance was not enough for Hestia's.
"How do you know Miss Clarke?"
"She's in my class! She's like, three seats down from me in Transfig—"
"What's your mother's name, Hestia?"
"Er… Mabily Blodwyn…"
"What's Montel's mother's name?" Flora shot at the Matron. "You forgot to ask him, Madam."
Madam Pomfrey opened her mouth, but Professor Sinistra cleared her throat, still awaiting treatment. The twins were granted entry. The first thing Hestia saw was not Rhiannon but rather the stiff, postured bodies of Muggle-born students.
"I don't like this," said Flora.
"Well, I think they just have to wait on Mandrake Draughts to brew," Hestia said, but Flora wasn't even looking at the Petrified students.
Rhiannon Clarke was sitting up in bed with a duvet's worth of bandages on her right arm. It was held up in two sling-wraps strung across a metal bar. Rhiannon and Montel were already deep in conversation, but every time Rhiannon tried to gesture, she winced, forgetting that she couldn't use that arm. The rumours had been right: that monster had really tried to eat her.
Hestia froze about half the amount of the Petrified bodies. She couldn't do it. She couldn't step forward and talk to the girl after fighting tooth and nail to get in here. Rhiannon and Montel were already talking. Hestia didn't know how to join a conversation; she only knew how to interrupt or run away. Her eyes burned. All she could think of was what Flora had said at the Muggle church. Anyone can die at any time. Rhiannon Clarke, who had just turned twelve, had almost been killed. She almost wasn't here anymore. She was almost a dead body. Hestia felt sweaty.
"No, I don't like this at all," said Flora.
Hestia could not possibly feel more stupid than she did right now. She pulled her robe up with both hands and dropped her tears in it, embarrassed beyond belief.
Just talk to her. Just talk. Don't be weird. You're so weird. Stop being weird and just talk.
"Oh, hullo, Hestia!" came Rhiannon's voice, strong and Cockney and not dead.
Hestia came out of her cocoon.
"Hey, what's wrong? Whatcha cryin' for?" Rhiannon asked.
Hestia slurped in some air and cried more.
"H-Hi, Rhiannon!" she wept.
You're weird. You're a weirdo.
"I ain't dead, you don't gotta cry!" Rhiannon sniggered, and her laugh was thick and sweet like strawberry preserves.
Hestia wished that she weren't Hestia Carrow anymore. She wanted to be Rhiannon Clarke. She wanted to take Rhiannon's place, so Rhiannon wouldn't have to be bitten by a monster and called a Mudblood. But she knew she couldn't do the job; she wasn't as tough as Rhiannon.
"Come sit, Hestia," she heard Rhiannon say, but the chair was taken by Montel. When she saw Rhiannon pat the edge of her bed with her free hand, she cried afresh.
"I'm so sorry you were hurt!" she exclaimed as her hands met the starchy hospital blankets upon Rhiannon's bed.
She was a foot away from Rhiannon now, with a view of how injured she was. How pretty she was. But Hestia wasn't injured because she was a stupid pure-blood. And Hestia wasn't pretty. Her mascara was running down her face.
Stop being so weird.
Rhiannon greeted Flora, who approached the foot of the bed with clasped hands and closed lips. Hestia was balling Rhiannon's blankets into her nervous fists.
"I'm so sorry," Hestia apologised again. "I'm so sorry I'm like this."
"Like what?" Rhiannon asked, trying to lean over to see Hestia. "I'd no idea you was so worried about me."
"Well, I was," Hestia said, hating to be in her nice clean robes when Rhiannon was stuck in a silly blue hospital gown.
"I was just tellin' Montel they're gonna try to piece me arm back together like," Rhiannon said. "I saw the shadow, so I did, and I made sure not to look at the thing. It sorta looked like a big snake shape."
Hestia didn't know how to respond because she didn't know how to talk. She went with something stupid, "I'm so glad you're alive." Because anybody could die at any time. That's what she learned at the church.
"I'm glad I'm alive, too!" said Rhiannon.
Rhiannon returned to her conversation with Montel Davis, which was about Muggle music. So it was true, then. Rhiannon was a Muggle-born. Hestia imagined her aunt burning the robes she was wearing because they'd touched a Mudblood's bed.
Hestia hadn't a thing to add to the conversation. Montel and Rhiannon were listing their favourite bands. Rhiannon's were "Pink Floyd, Lush, Nirvana, the Smashing Pumpkins, and the Cocteau Twins." Hestia didn't recognise a single one, but Montel seemed to know most of them.
Hestia and Flora didn't own any music, but they were often surrounded by it. Apart from an uncharacteristic soft spot for the drawing-room ballads on Tisiphone Carrow's old cylinders, Amycus and Alecto listened to bands like the Hobgoblins, Hexennacht, and Cannibal Coven. They often turned their music up all the way to annoy Dad. Hestia actually liked metal and rock, but she didn't know if that was what Rhiannon listened to.
"I used to do sweepin' up round my friend's music shop in London and got me own guitar," said Rhiannon.
"Sweet! I have a Maestro Spellcaster Dad got me just this Christmas!" Montel exclaimed.
Hestia cleared her throat, "D-Do either of you like the Hobgoblins…?"
"Hobgoblins?" Rhiannon asked. "I dunno 'em, bein' Muggle-born and all."
"I'll lend you their tapes! I have two of their albums on cassette," Montel jumped in before Hestia could so much as comment.
She shrunk back and merely observed them talk. The topic changed from music to Quidditch, and Quidditch to Muggle food. Hestia felt blown away. She didn't get to add anything else before the usual visiting hours were over; Madam Pomfrey wasted no time in removing them from the Hospital Wing.
"We'll come back tomorrow, Rhiannon," said Montel.
"Thanks!"
It could not have been clearer that Flora did not want to take another trip to the Hospital Wing after class the next day, but that didn't stop Hestia.
"When she comes out of there, the first thing she's gonna hear is how much the whole House hates her. And I wanna make sure she knows we're not included in that," Hestia said. "You don't have to come."
"I do, though," said Flora. "I can't have you walking about the castle without me. What if something happens?"
"Either quit complaining or stay in the common room," said Hestia with finality.
So there they were again, using Professor Sinistra's permission to visit. Montel brought Rhiannon snacks and a magazine to read. Hestia had come with nothing but her tense twin sister. It was rough work, being jealous of a boy so popular. Even Hestia liked him platonically.
This time they all had chairs. This time Hestia didn't cry. She still didn't have much to say, so it became awkward just observing Rhiannon and Montel's conversation. Flora had brought her Charms textbook along and barely offered a word, but for some reason, Rhiannon still took that as support. She said that they had tried to graft her arm, but the creature that damaged her skin was too Dark, even for magic.
"Dunno how that works, but I guess Dark magic can't be fixed," Rhiannon shrugged nonchalantly, though Hestia could tell it deeply bothered her to have a mangled arm.
I've got no clue what I'm doing, Hestia thought on the third day in a row she visited Rhiannon. Montel had already brought Rhiannon food that morning. The only thing Hestia could think to bring was an Invigoration Draught, upon which Madam Pomfrey used about five or six Revealing Spells before permitting it to be given to Rhiannon.
Hestia was too busy with classes the next day to make it to the Hospital Wing in time. She was behind on homework but didn't care. All day and night she had to listen to people whisper about the Mudblood Slytherin. Actually, most didn't even bother to whisper. Even the other Houses were talking about her, though they usually didn't use the slur.
"What's she doing in Slytherin?"
Well, that's a great question Mr-Know-It-All-Ravenclaw, Hestia thought. Maybe it's because she IS a Slytherin.
Hestia had big plans to apologise for missing a day of visitation, counting down the minutes to her break period when she could see Rhiannon. Since she was painfully lacking conversation, she decided to play tic-tac-toads with Rhiannon that day. It would be fun. Hestia even planned to draw in the toads for Rhiannon due to the bad arm. But Hestia never got to see Rhiannon, for a terrifying announcement from the Headmistress sounded through the halls:-
"All students return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staffroom. Immediately, please."
"Another Mudblood's been chomped on!" Diane Carter squealed with glee.
"Or Petrified!" Olivia Shardlow joined in.
"Or killed!" said Imogen Stretton.
Hestia was getting ready to jinx salt into all their eyes when she realised that the first place they'd end up would be the Hospital Wing, where Rhiannon was. As she was swept up in the army of students trying to get back to their common rooms, she also considered jinxing herself just to be with Rhiannon instead of all these monsters. But that would leave Flora alone.
Hestia requested that they go back to their dormitory so they wouldn't have to hear all the blood-supremacists celebrating in the common room. That's where they were when Zoe, Scarlett, and Alex came in with the news that the school would close. Flora lay belly-down on the bed for the remainder of the day. The other girls went to the common room to keep updated on the gossip.
"I don't want to go back home," she said once Hestia joined her on the bed. "They won't pay for a tutor. It'll just be them."
"I definitely don't wanna go home."
Flora started to cry quietly. She had been thoroughly trained not to cry, so when it came out, it came out stifled and cold. She bustled away to the bathroom. Hestia could hear her splashing water on her face. Flora stepped out of the bathroom with a final sniffle and walked back over. Hestia stood up and instantly pulled Flora into a hug. All the muscles in Flora's arms tightened, like she was trying so hard to be tough that she forgot how to be twelve.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Giving you a hug, duh!" said Hestia.
"What for?"
"Be-Because?" piped Hestia. "The school's closing, and people are being attacked! Does it have to be our birthday for me to give you a hug? Merlin, Flora, what's wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with you?" Flora returned.
Hestia released her sister from the hug they both had needed. She stared at her. Flora stared back, looking, perhaps, like she had just been exposed to an unpleasant smell.
No way.
"Oh, I know what this is about," Hestia said, a vermin of rage burrowing in her stomach. "You're all freaked out because I touched Rhiannon, aren't you? Aren't you?"
"Wha—?" Flora uttered, her hitched shoulders hitching even higher. "No, no, Hestia, oh, no—"
"Alecto's batshit germ phobia's really got to you!" Hestia screamed. "Y'think Rhiannon's dirty 'cause she isn't pureblood‽ Is that it‽"
Flora started blubbering her words and shedding fresh tears:-
"No, Hestia, I'm sorry, that's not — no, I'm so sorry — I'm so sorry —"
"Oh, save it and shove it, Flora! Go out to the common room with all the other people that are just like them!"
"No!" Flora screamed. "No, no, I'm not, no, Hestia, please…"
And then she fell to her knees as though she had been poisoned and started wailing. Hestia scowled and stepped around her. She had nowhere to go. The halls had a man-eating monster, the common room had not much better, and the dormitory had her stupid sister. So Hestia locked herself in the bathroom, stole Scarlett's bubble bath, and soaked her angry bones. Flora had never cried this hard before…
She has to learn, Hestia thought with a sneer.