Lilacs In November--Part Two



DISCLAIMER: You know what? Screw it. Everything's mine. Even... even Harry! *ducks under desk to avoid barrage of lawsuits*

||chapter five||chapter six||chapter seven||chapter eight||



Chapter Five
Adventures With Floo Powder

"The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live." Flora Whittemore

     "Well, at least there's something Muggles do better," muttered Delilah as she listened to the Weird Sisters on the radio. Reaching over, she shut off her alarm and got up with a groan.
     After she'd taken a shower and gotten dressed in some black pants and a shirt, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Sitting up on the bed and using pillows for padding, she opened the drawer and pulled out the diary. Pausing before she opened it, she got up, locked the door, then sat back down.
     The cover was cracked with age, and Delilah opened it with care. Going past the title page, she came to the first page of writing, done in blue ink.

November 19, 991

     Now that our school is open and running well, Salazar insists on us writing our own accounts for one year. One year from this date, we shall all convene and compare our notes, and maybe leave a remnant for our following magical descendants.
     Very well; I shall begin. I am Rowena Lilac Ravenclaw, age twenty seven, born November 1st, founder of Ravenclaw House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am often called the Wingspeaker, for I have that talent; to speak to any creature with wings. My three co-founders, and friends, and even sometimes enemies, are Helga Hufflepuff, the Truthsayer; Godric Gryffindor, the Lightningsword; and Salazar Slytherin, the Parseltongue. Perhaps you have heard of them; perhaps you haven't. I'm not here to talk about them; this diary is by me, about me, and it shall remain so. If someone else is reading this right now, know this; what follows in these pages are true events of my life for the span of one year. Learn from it, learn as I hope I shall have after the event. Just learn, for knowledge is the greatest gift one can bestow on another.
                              Rowena.

     A knock came to her door, startling Delilah out of her reading. "Lila? Why's the door locked?" asked Sirius.
     "Hmm... maybe because I'm in a house full of guys, changing?" she retorted, a bite of anger in her voice for being interrupted. Marking her place with a bookmark, she placed the diary back in the drawer.
     "Oh. Sorry. Anyway, we were going to go to Diagon Alley today... is that all right with you?"
     "Sure. Just let me get some shoes on," sighed Delilah. Sliding on some black clogs, she told Ryo quietly, "Sorry... you have to stay. I'll bring you back something nice, though." Unlocking her door, she stepped outside of the room and sighed, "Let's go... and if Harry has any Floo powder incidents, I'm not playing rescue mission."

     Five minutes later, Delilah was slapping ash from her clothes and standing in the Leaky Cauldron. "Tom!" she exclaimed. She'd been sending him owls all year, keeping true to her word.
     They hugged. "How've you been keeping, dear?" asked Tom. "Oh, I have a new visitor this year... my grandson, just graduated from Beauxbatons. He's going to teach languages at Hogwarts." There was pride in the old man's voice. "Oi, Brett!"
     With a faint popping noise, someone Apparated into the room. His back was to her, so all Delilah could see was golden blonde hair that was slightly long. "Other way, Brett. I want you to meet that nice young lady I was talking about."
     He turned, and Delilah looked into the most amazing eyes she'd ever seen. They were a mixture of blue and--purple? "Ah, you must be Delilah. Grandfather wouldn't shut up about you," grinned the young man. He had a slight French accent--not like he was a native, but like he'd spoken it for a few years. "I'm Brett... Brett Levine." His hand was warm as he shook hers.
     "Delilah Riddle... but I assume you already knew that," she grinned. A loud clattering noise made her turn and see Harry tumble out of the fireplace, hitting the poker stand. "Hopeless..." sighed Delilah.
     Harry wiped off his blackened glasses and stood. "I heard that, Delilah Anne Riddle." He looked over at Brett, who looked amused at the actions happening in front of him. "Who's your friend?"
     "Oh, this is Brett... I just met him, he's Tom's grandson," said Delilah. "Tom the bartender."
     "Hello, Brett. I'm Harry... Harry Potter."
     "Pleased to meet you... don't worry about the Floo powder thing, I had the worst trouble with it in France. One time when I used it, I ended up in the girls' dorm... I swear it was accidental." His grin proved otherwise.
     "Oh, if only I had that good of luck," sighed Harry. "I've only gotten Knockturn Alley so far."
     Brett winced. "Grandfather told me about that place... sounds like our La Rue De L'Art Foncés." His French was perfect, and he slid into it with ease. Even Delilah, who had taken a few years of French in her Muggle school, couldn't hope to be that good.
     While Brett and Harry discussed Floo powder incidents, Sirius arrived. "If you boys are done talking about Floo powder's merits, I think Sirius is patiently waiting, Harry," said Delilah. "Nice meeting you, Brett; good to see you, Tom."
     "Et toi, Mademoiselle Riddle," remarked Brett. "'Bye, Harry."
     "I think he fancied you," whispered Harry to Delilah as Sirius tapped the brick to open the gateway.
     "Rubbish," retorted Delilah. But she remembered Brett's eyes, and smiled.

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Chapter Six
Of Confrontations and Pink Ink

"I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read, and all the friends I want to see." John Burrough

     While Harry and Sirius went to Gringotts to get some more money so that Harry could get a few more things, Delilah was in Quality Quidditch Supplies, buying an early Christmas present for Ron, when she heard a familiar, cold voice say, "Come on, Father... how do you expect me to win in Quidditch with Potter on a Firebolt?"
     "I had hoped your talent would be enough," came back a silky voice. "This new Firebolt 3000 should not be necessary. You are a Malfoy, and you should win like one."
     Draco Malfoy, prodding his father into buying him a new broom. Delilah shook her head and groaned. How satisfying it would be to hex them both... wait.
     Voldemort would be looking for her, along with his Death Eaters. He'd probably promote anybody who captured her, dead or alive... preferably dead. In fact, the reward would be enough to even kill her in public and risk everything...
     As quietly as possible, Delilah paid for the autographed Chudley Cannons poster she'd selected and snuck out of the store. She breathed a sigh of relief, then... "Hey! Girl!" She turned to see Lucius Malfoy looking at her, drawing out his wand.
     "I believe her name is Delilah, Lucius." Delilah turned to see Brett, his wand out, walking toward the elder Malfoy. "Now, what was your business with her?"
     "Well, well... Brett Levine, the young French upstart," sneered Lucius. "How've you been faring since last we met?"
     "Oh, better than that friend of yours... what was his name? Nott? Or was it Avery?" Brett twirled his wand. "Now, Lucius, what was your business with Delilah?"
     "Nothing... just thought she was somebody else," muttered Lucius. He went back inside, Draco following and asking why he'd backed down.
     "Language teacher my happy bum," murmured Delilah to Brett as they walked off. "Auror?"
     "Not quite," he replied with a grin. "Hear about the Beauxbatons attack?"
     Delilah nodded. Last spring, after recovering from the Hogwarts defeat, Voldemort had attacked Beauxbatons. Unfortunately, Madame Maxime had been entertaining some giants, and they'd taken care of the problem easily.
     "Well... I got cornered, and had to, well, kill one," said Brett uneasily. Delilah's jaw dropped. "Uh oh... you're offended," he sighed.
     "One? One? What do you mean, one? You didn't get rid of two of the buggers?" Delilah's eyes twinkled.
     "Funny," remarked Brett dryly. A pause, then, "Grandfather tells me you're a sixth year. You look older."
     "Hey, I'm sixteen. That's old enough for me," she grinned. "How old are you?"
     "Just turned nineteen," he smiled. Another pause, then, "Are you almost done with your shopping?"
     Delilah grimaced. "I have to get books and parchment still, and maybe a new bag." She hesitated, then asked, "Care to come along?"
     "If your sixth-year books are anything like mine were, you'll need all the help you can get carrying those monsters," chuckled Brett. "Lead the way."

     "What do you mean pink ink is for sissies? Step closer and say that, Frenchie," laughed Delilah, holding up a fist. While the attendant got the books she'd be needing, Delilah was picking out ink and parchment--with unnecessary input from Brett.
     "Look, the only person I know who used pink ink was Fleur Delacour. OK, so she wasn't a sissy; she was just, ah, very popular with the guys."
     "Oh? And what makes you think I'm not?" said Delilah, arching an eyebrow. It was so easy to joke with Brett; he had a good sense of humor. Not to mention he was extremely cute... Oh no... you're not getting a crush on him. You just met the guy. So what if he's got those beautiful eyes, and a great personality, and... Drat.
     "Just a guess," he shrugged. "I suppose I'll know when I'm doing my tutoring bit this year. I assume you'll be taking classes?"
     "Je parle très bien français, merci beaucoup," said Delilah, sounding offended. Then she grinned. "But if you're teaching Dragonese, I'll gladly accept."
     "I might be at that," admitted Brett. "Are you going to get that ghastly pink?"
     "No," she said, putting the bottle back. Brett breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm going to get this neat candy set. When you say the right word, the ink smells like the kind of candy it is. See, the green is Chocolate Frogs, and the blue is..." Brett groaned.
     "Would you be offended if I beat my head against the shelf repeatedly?"
     "I certainly would. You'd upset the ink. And I was joking, you prat." Picking up instead a new jewel set whose ink shimmered, she went to the front and set the bottles on top of her stack of books. "Oh, and five packs of white parchment, please," she smiled.
     Brett goggled. "Are you afraid Hogwarts will have a toilet paper shortage? Mon Dieu!"
     "Stuff yourself, Levine. I enjoy my writing." Taking fifteen Galleons and two Sickles from her red velvet money pouch, she held on to the two bags and handed one to Brett. "You promised."
     "I suppose I did," he admitted, taking the bag. "But I expect payment for this strenuous work."
     Delilah stopped in the doorway. "Brett... whatever your middle name is... Levine, I will not snog you!" she declared loudly, knowing full well people would stare.
     "Oh really? That's a shame. I suppose we'll have to go to Florean Fortescue's instead," replied Brett with a devilish grin.
     Delilah clapped her free hand to her heart dramatically. "Oh no... he's breaking out the big guns. Ice cream."
     While they were going to the ice cream parlor, Delilah saw Harry and Sirius. "Hold on... I've got to tell them where I'm going," she said, rolling her eyes. "Otherwise Sirius will lecture me. The man's a mother hen." Waving her hand, she yelled, "Hey, Harry! Sirius!"
     They came over to her. "Lila, where've you bee--ohhhh," said Harry knowingly.
     "Oh, go stuff yourself, Harry, and clean that dirty mind. I'm going to go to Florean's with Brett... when you're ready to go, just come by and get me, or if you're leaving now, I'll be back by... er... midnight," said Delilah impishly.
     Harry and Sirius exchanged a look. "Just go back to the house when you're done," said Sirius. "And you'll be back by six, or I'll be the one stuffing... with the help of a taxidermist."
     "I know a good one," said Brett helpfully. Delilah kicked him, then smiled at Sirius.
     "Six it is, then. Bye." And with that, she turned and left with Brett.

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Chapter Seven
Snogging? I Think Not

"On ne voit bien qu'avec le coeur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux." ["It is only with the heart that one sees rightly. The essential is invisible for the eyes."] Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Le Petit Prince [The Little Prince]

     "Over a hundred languages, and you're fluent in all of them?" goggled Delilah, her spoonful of chocolate ice cream poised over the dish. "What are you, a bloody language library on feet?"
     "So sayeth the Wingspeaker and healer," retorted Brett, eating a spoonful of cookie dough ice cream. "I don't know how I do it... it's, I don't know, easy. It should be more difficult, I know."
     "Maybe you've got phoenix blood," suggested Delilah with a wry grin. "Aren't they the language experts?"
     "Nope, the lizard form of basilisks are the ones. They're called basilisks, but they look more like lizards, and have a mastery of all languages," remarked Brett absently, then flushed. "Sorry... I liked Care of Magical Creatures."
     "Brett, whenever you are in my company, you need not worry about liking animals," said Delilah solemnly. Then she cocked her head to the side, considering. "Unless, of course, we're talking about Blast-Ended Skrewts here. In that case..."
     They both laughed. Out of the corner of her eye, Delilah saw the clock, and her hand flew to her mouth. "5:58! I'm going to be slaughtered!"
     "Best get back to the Cauldron, then. Grandfather is probably worried sick," grinned Brett. "Worth it, though... now I know why he's so fond of you."
     "And now I know why he never mentioned you," replied Delilah with a cheesy grin as she stood. "Kidding."
     They returned to the Leaky Cauldron at a fast pace. Delilah stood in front of the fireplace, bags on the floor, and took a pinch of Floo powder from the mantel. "G'bye Tom... bye, Brett," she said, and threw in the powder. "Ah... Sirius Black's house, Three Cauldron Avenue, Hogsmeade?" she said questioningly. "Hope that's enough information." Picking up her bags, she entered the green flames and swirled around to go back to Sirius's house.

     "Did we have fun, Miss Riddle?" teased Ron when she entered the room, covered in soot. "Harry was telling me all about it... you snogging a twenty-year old you just met... for shame."
     "One, he's nineteen; two, we didn't snog," said Delilah, shaking out her clothes. "Harry's getting as bad as that Rita Skeeter Padma told me about."
     "That is going far too far," said Harry, entering the room. "Have a good sno--er, time?"
     Glaring at him, Delilah made her face grow sparse feathers, knowing full well it freaked Harry out. While he was having bouts of extreme disgust, she went to her room. She thought of it as hers by now; more so than her attic on Trumpet Avenue.
     "Hello, baby," she crooned to Ryo, picking him up and cradling in her arms. "How'd Mama's boy do by himself? Did we take our daily potion? Oh yes, we're a good boy." Every day Delilah gave Ryo a potion to stop his fire-breathing.
     Digging in one of her bags, she pulled out a squeaky doll and a tiny black robe. Putting the robe on the doll so that it looked remarkably like a Death Eater, Delilah threw the doll to Ryo. He caught it in the air and happily began to chew on it.
     Locking her door once more, Delilah pulled out the diary and turned the next page. What she saw made her groan. It was written in a language she'd never seen. All it looked like was squiggly lines to her... wait. Brett might know something.
     But she'd just met him... could she really trust him with something like this? Pensively, Delilah caressed the ancient cover. "I'll see when I get to Hogwarts," she promised herself. Wrapping the book in some old robes, she set it gently in the top of her trunk and opened her new copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six. Settling herself in, she began to read through, taking care not to read aloud lest she make anything happen and have the Ministry leap all over her.
     Pausing, she closed the book and reached for another one--Guide to Magical Creatures--Advanced Level. The Monster Book of Monsters only went so far, apparently. Thumbing through it, she stopped on the Basilisk entry.

     While many believe there is only one kind of basilisk--the type that resembles a serpent--there is another one, albeit a rare one. This breed, also called a basilisk, has a pearl-gray hide with bumps. Instead of resembling a serpent, it instead looks like a lizard. Walking on two legs, this basilisk breed can control its gaze. When it gets upset, that gaze can turn anything into stone. Another ability this basilisk has that the serpentine version does not is the ability of tongues--an ability only two other magical creatures have, the sphinx and some forms of dragons.

     So, Brett had been right. "Hm. You learn something new every day," shrugged Delilah. Closing the book, she went downstairs to fix something for dinner, hoping Sirius hadn't lit the kitchen on fire yet.

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Chapter Eight
Parseltongue's Benefits

"Something that has always puzzled me all my life is why, when I am in special need of help, the good deed is usually done by somebody on whom I have no claim." William Feather, The Business of Life

     When Delilah saw the kitchen, she groaned and slapped her forehead. The entire room was coated in a fine coating of white flour. In the center of the room, their hair frosted with white, Harry's glasses covered, were Harry and Ron, a bag of flour between them. "It just... popped," said Ron in an awed voice.
     "Idiots..." muttered Delilah. "SIRIUS! YOUR WAND IS NEEDED!"
     "Huh?" Sirius came into the kitchen and stopped to stare. He clapped his hands over his mouth; a sound came out like he was trying to stifle laughter. He didn't succeed--soon he was cracking up. "Your faces!" he whooped. "You look like ghosts!"
     "Sirius. Wand. Clean," said Delilah, wanting to laugh also, but keeping a straight face.
     "Oh. Right." With a flick of his wand, the flour went neatly back into the bag. "Is that it?"
     "Yes," sighed Delilah. "Harry, Ron, out. You might blow up the entire kitchen next, and I'm not risking takeout for the rest of the summer. Or worse yet, Remus's cooking." The two boys grimaced; they'd sampled some of Lupin's cuisine, and it hadn't been palatable. Delilah had heard the story, although knowing them they'd increased the nastiness factor tenfold with each telling.
     While Delilah cooked, her mind drifted to the diary. She hoped Brett knew the language; he ought to, considering he was going to be a language tutor... maybe Dumbledore could help, but he might not be a linguist. If he was, why would he hire a language tutor? He could have just done it himself after classes...
     She stopped pondering and turned the chicken over before it started to burn. Shaking her head to clear it, she concentrated on the preparation of food. She'd need to; the three guys ate like vacuum cleaners.
     After dinner, Delilah let the guys do the dishes. If it was one thing she hated, it was cleaning up after herself when she cooked. Going up to her room, she flipped through the book to see if any more entries were decodable--or better yet, in English.
     Her face fell with every page turned. Every page was in an obscure language... all but one of the last pages. It was in English again. Eagerly, Delilah read the entry.

November 1, 992

     Today is my birthday--and it is a double joy for me. Not only am I blessed with another year, Salazar and I are ever closer to discovering the cure for the Killing Curse. The combination of my healing and Wingspeaker lore, and his efficiency--all right, brilliance--at potions will lead to the creation of our Life Restoration Draught--I'm sure of it. There is only one step left...
     I must go now--Godric is about to tear down the castle with that sword of his. Must be showing off for Helga again. I bid you adieu.
                              Rowena.
     Delilah's heart thumped with excitement. A cure for Avada Kedavra! The significance of the journal seemed to increase tenfold... the lives that could be saved, if people could be revived from it..! It was mind-boggling.
     "Hey Lila, we're done with the dishes, and--hey, what's that?" Harry had entered the room. Furious, Delilah put it back in the drawer and slammed the drawer shut.
     "My God, Harry, have you never heard of knocking?!" she exclaimed. "What that was was none of your damned business."
     Harry folded his arms over his chest. "Oh, really?"
     Delilah sighed. "All right, fine. But if you look at it and tell anyone else, in any way, shape, or form, I'll suffocate you with your own invisibility cloak--slowly." She pulled the book back out.
     "'The Diary of Rowena Ra--'" Harry broke off and stared at her. "Where did you find this?" he whispered.
     "Sirius's library," replied Delilah tersely. "Don't bother reading it--only two pages are in English, the others are in all of these odd languages. You're welcome to look if you must, though." She'd hardly ever been able to refuse Harry anything--his determination almost equaled hers. Besides, maybe he could help... Oh, right... Harry's a language expert. Sure.
     As he turned the pages with care, he stopped on one whose writing looked like snakes. "I... I can read this," he said. "I think it might be the written form of Parseltongue."
     "Don't just stand there... read it to me, and slowly!" said Delilah excitedly, grabbing parchment, ink, and quill. Dipping her quill into the ink, she started to scribble, using the bedside table for a writing surface.
     After he had read a few lines, Harry said, "Wait. Stop writing. You don't need to."
     Delilah's jaw dropped. "I don't..."
     "Look at the diary while I read." Delilah peered over his shoulder. Harry began to read again. Her eyes widened. As he read every word, the snake shapes shifted to form other letters... English.
     "It's... it's translating itself," she whispered, not taking her eyes off of the shifting letters on the ancient parchment. "You just have to use the key... the language it's written in. Once you do..."
     "You can get it the easier way," finished Harry, breaking in his reading. The remaining drawn snakes seemed to look at him reproachfully. "Oh. Right. I'll keep on."
     When the last of the snakes was gone, Harry turned the book toward Delilah. "Read it... my throat is killing me," he grinned.
     "Lazy..." muttered Delilah under her breath and flashing Harry a cheeky grin. She read the diary's contents aloud.

December 26, 991

     Yesterday was the first Christmas at Hogwarts. It was a happy occasion--laughter, merriment, and of course, presents. Let's see... what did I get? From Godric, a necklace--he must be brace indeed, giving me jewelry in front of Helga's nose. Helga gave me a canary in a cage... while she's very kind, she sometimes forgets I dislike cages. The canary is flitting around the room now, cheeping so that I can hardly hear myself think. And, of course, Salazar. While he seemingly gave me a book on potions and a sneer, I know this other gift is from him. He should've known his owl would talk to me when it delivered a package wrapped in silver cloth, with no tag. Mayhap he wanted me to find out; I don't know. Inside the package was a beautiful dress. Oh, Merlin! You should've seen it. First, when I opened it, lilac petals sprang out at me and showered the room. It was beautiful. Then, underneath the petals was a dress of the deepest midnight blue velvet. Disgustingly lavish, and entirely beautiful. I believe I'll wear it on New Year's and see if he blushes. Salazar Slytherin blushing... that would be a sight!
     As for the presents I gave, Godric received a matching sheath for that God-awful sword he keeps banging around. I gave Helga a broom--now maybe she'll be able to beat me in sprints. Not. I admit, I grew flustered at the thought of giving Salazar a gift. So, I got the first thing I could think of--a potions set of rare things. Then my conscience disturbed me, so I went to a shop and got him a ring. Not just any ring, either. This one was made of purest silver, set with an emerald. Inlaid in the stone, by means I don't wish to think about, is a tiny snake. I shape-changed into a hawk and placed it on his bedside table myself.
     My cheeks are growing warm--it's far too hot in this room. I shall bid you adieu and go take a bath.

                              Rowena.

     "So. Ravenclaw and Slytherin had a thing for each other," said Delilah finally. "I thought as much from the other pages."
     "How do you know? They just got each other presents!" protested Harry.
     Delilah arched an eyebrow at him. "Harry James Potter, you know as well as I do that that is total codswallop. Read between the lines, my friend." She closed the book and put it back inside the drawer. "Remember what I said about not telling anybody. This applies to everyone... including Cho, Ron, Sirius, Hedwig..."
     "I get the picture," laughed Harry, holding up his hands in surrender. "By the way, did you know your handwriting looks exactly like Ravenclaw's? Just food for thought." He disappeared from the room in a flash.
     Frowning, Delilah opened the journal again. She held up her half-finished parchment against it. He was right; they could've been written by the same person. "Odd," murmured Delilah, knowing her word choice wasn't exactly right. She was too sleepy to think of a better one, though. Turning off her light and going under the blankets, she cuddled Ryo close and shut her eyes.

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     And so part two ends. I'll let you draw your own conclusions. =) ~Phoenix