Chapter 22
September 3rd, 1991-Office of the Professor of Ancient Runes (Bathsheda Babbling), Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Somewhere in Scotland
Madam Pomfrey didn't let Patricia out until just before supper. She was insistent, so Patricia ended up missing the entire first day of school and definitely couldn't make it to Bathsheda's office before curfew. Just getting all the day's notes from Noe, who took the best notes out of all of them, took an hour and a half. By happy coincidence, the third year Claws had a free period in the morning at the same time as Professor Babbling, so Patricia went to see her right after breakfast the next day.
"My mother was a what?"
Bathsheda pushed Patricia's untouched cup of tea towards her and the girl took a shaky sip.
"An Oracle. Pythia to be exact. The Oracle of Delphi."
Patricia managed to get past the point of silent blinking and sputtered, "I thought that was just her name."
She was being very unRavenclaw-like at the moment. Actually, she wouldn't have fit into any of the Houses that very second. Fortunately her bumbling soon passed and she decided on indulging in a stereotypical redhead fit of rage.
I don't know if Patricia being a redhead made that better or worse.
"And this is a stupid family curse! Is that why her family didn't write back to me? They knew this was going to happen! Why didn't I know about this?"
Bathsheda weathered Patricia's explosion admirably without even a twitch to show that the increasingly high pitched yelling was getting to her.
After she was finished, Patricia slumped in her chair and repeated tiredly, "Why didn't I know about this?"
"It's been passed on through your family by word of mouth," Bathsheda said apologetically. "I only know because your mother told me so I could tell you."
Patricia put her head down on Bathsheda's desk and said something Bathsheda wasn't able to hear.
"What was that, Patricia?"
Patricia lifted her head.
"I wish she'd been her to tell me herself," she said shakily before she burst into tears. Her head dropped down to rest on her folded arms.
Bathsheda just barely stopped herself from crying as well. It wouldn't do them any good if they both became tear soaked messes. She reached over her desk and patted Patricia on her shoulder.
The giant school clock chimed. Patricia lifted her head again. Her eyes had already begun to go pink.
"Your class will be here soon."
Bathsheda wanted to say that her class could wait, they were seventh years, but Patricia stood up before she could get the words out. That was probably a good thing since she wouldn't be a very responsible teacher to say that.
"I…I have Transfiguration."
Bathsheda decided to be a less responsible teacher.
"No, you don't." She took a piece of scrap parchment out of a drawer and began writing on it. "I'll give you a note to excuse you from classes. I'd suggest visiting the corridor where Nick and the Baron have their duels. There's a hidden room across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy."
Despite her tears, Patricia looked interested.
"There is?"
Bathsheda nodded. "Your mother found it. Just walk in front of the wall a few times and think about what you need."
"Papa and Uncle Remus never told me about it."
Bathsheda gave a small smile.
"They never found it."
September 3rd, 1991-The Room of Requirement, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Somewhere in Scotland
The note from Bathsheda had even worked on Filch, though that may have had more to do with the fact that Patricia was still crying when she ran into him. Either way, Patricia got to the seventh floor with not trouble.
As she paced in front of the wall opposite the tapestry she thought, I need a place to think about what happened. I need somewhere to feel better. I need a place that's friendly.
Strange requests? Maybe, but the room didn't disappoint.
When Patricia opened the door that appeared in the wall she found herself in a replica of the Ravenclaw common room that was carpeted in grass and opened up into a sparkling night sky with a sliver of moon. There was a teacup sitting on one of the tables. When Patricia went over to it there was a note attached to it that said "Calming Draught, Drink Me".
Slightly troubling Alice's Adventures in Wonderland references aside, the liquid in the teacup was Calming Draught. Grace had needed to take it enough times during exams for Patricia to recognize it on sight. She drank the potion, gagging on the bitter taste, and then lay down on the carpet of grass and stared up at the stars.
"Why?" she asked the constellation of Pegasus.
The winged horse only twinkled in reply. She sighed.
"A curse. Who even has family curses anymore? It's the twentieth century!"
A bell rang behind her.
Patricia's wand shot out of its holster and she rolled over.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Adrian Pucey's arms and legs snapped to attention and he fell to the floor with a thud, frozen stiff as a board.
"Oh."
Patricia got up and rolled Pucey over no very gently with one foot. "What are you doing here?"
Pucey grunted and rolled his eyes. Patricia chose to translate that as "I would tell you if I could move," and cast Finite Incantatem on Pucey, allowing him to sit up and spit out all the grass that had gotten into his mouth.
"Avoiding Warrington," he said. "I thought this was a closet."
"Then this must be Narnia," Patricia muttered.
The Slytherin boy squinted up at her. "Have you been crying?"
Patricia snarled like a threatened wolf. "None of your business. Leave, now, before I really hex you."
Instead of doing what was probably the smart thing and listening to her, Pucey stood up and began walking around the room.
"What is this place?"
Patricia really wanted to say that it was Narnia again, but she didn't.
"Do you have hearing problems, or just listening issues?"
"I don't want to run into Warrington," Pucey supplied while he flipped through a book on Animagi. "I won't bother you anymore, promise."
"Fine. I'm holding you to that," Patricia grumbled.
Then, about ten minutes of reading and stargazing later, Patricia asked, "Your dad owns the Cleansweep Broom Company, right?"
Pucey looked up from his book with barely veiled surprise at Patricia cordial tone. "Yes, and?"
"Your broom is a repainted Silver Arrow. I've knocked you off of it more than enough times to notice."
Pucey blushed, whether from the reminder of the last year's embarrassing game against Ravenclaw or from the shame of being found out no one could be sure.
"My mum got it for me. She says Silver Arrows have got better runework."
"Cleansweeps don't have any runework."
Pucey's blush deepened. "I know."
"Well, Silver Arrow or not, we're going to beat you this year." Patricia shut her book and looked over at Pucey. "Want to play Exploding Snap?"