----------------------------------------------------------
"She has old ghosts that I have shown to her."
-- Neil Gaiman, The Doll's House
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"So much work," Guin groaned, as she flopped onto her four-poster bed, with the pale green curtains thrown carelessly to the sides. She was weary, but with the ache that comes from a day spent thinking, rather than doing. She was glad to lie down, as the desks of Hogwarts were not designed with student comfort in mind. "And it's only the first day."
"Professor Snape isn't going easy on us, either," Sally-Ann said glumly, shaking her head and sending lank blond hair whipping in every direction. "A lab report on Melting Magics."
"I like Potions," Jessica said after a moment's pause. She was taciturn, usually, and so all heads in the room turned towards her to see what she had to say. "It's a lot like chemistry, at my old school. You just have to mix things correctly."
"Not all of us," Blaise Zabini said languorously, and perhaps just a bit sarcastically, "Have the benefit of being Muggle-born." She stretched leisurely, twirling a raven curl around one finger while reclining on the bed. Her pose seemed wrong somehow, it did not fit a girl of her age.
"No, you don't," Jessica said, her voice a quiet though steely murmur, "I have to admit you're at a disadvantage."
"Touché!" cried Blaise, clapping her hands together in a sardonic expression of delight. It seemed that there were breaks to her amicable exterior, after all. Guin filed that information away for further reference. "Ah, our resident mouse has a tongue in her head after all!"
"Lay off, Zabini," Sally-Ann said. Jessica's dark, catlike face had slivered to an indescribable expression, compounded of hurt and annoyance.
"What was that, Jess?" Guin asked. The other girl had whispered something, in a voice too soft to hear.
"I said I can take care of myself."
"Blaise, what's with you today?" Sally-Ann asked, eyes narrowing shrewdly. "If I have a guess, I'd say it's something to do with a boy, mm? In love with the new Professor?" She fluttered her translucent eyelashes mockingly, twisting her neck and head into a pining stare.
To their delight, Blaise blushed, and turned up her nose. "No!"
"Come on, we know you too well," Guin said, "We know the look, too. That's the 'I've been turned down by a boy' look."
"I've never even had a boyfriend!"
"That's your main ambition in life," Guin said serenely.
"Give her time," Sally-Ann said seriously as she peered at the other children, "She's only twelve."
"For your information, I had a very intellectual chat with Professor Lockhart after class," Blaise said with a haughty air.
"Oh, really?" Guin said dubiously, "What did you talk about? Hair-care products?"
Blaise turned even redder. "Um. Yes."
Sally-Ann and Guin snickered, but Jessica merely smiled. "'Night," she said, contented, and drew the curtains around her bed, hiding herself from view.
After a moment, Guin did the same, slumping back onto the pillow. Sliding under the covers, folded crisply by the house-elves, the girl tossed over on her side, attempting to find a comfortable position. With a wide yawn, Guin shut her eyes and waited to drift off. She rarely dreamed, or if she did, rarely remembered what they had been about. One odd dream that stuck in her mind involved rabbits in trench-coats and a bright-pink old-fashioned bathroom. Perhaps, Guin thought muzzily, it was best that she didn't remember them.
She was unable to tell the exact point at which her somewhat tangled thought process abruptly relinquished its hold on her brain, but it moved seamlessly. A jumble of images and sounds thrown from the deepest realms of her subconscious were presented before her, playing in an endless loop of motion and cacophony.
A girl's voice, begging for mercy, strained with pain and terror; a man's tongue, shrieking rage and agony to the sky; her mother's tones, chanting wordlessly with a smug evocation of satisfaction. Blood death fear FEAR blackness – respite, oblivion. Angeline's face, lit from below by a stage light, with the soft yellow glow making caverns in her face, smiling white teeth showing in too-young features image from the past with golden curls and sea green eyes and icy vainess. Locked in a battle of will with an alien presence – Angeline's resolution forced the other down—
Guin sat up abruptly, sweating. What she had been dreaming about was completely lost to her, but the girl knew it had been something— something— she shuddered and wiped her forehead. Whatever it had been, it was a nameless night-terror, and she was no longer a child. With a determination that belonged to one much older, the girl clamped her mouth into a thin line, lay back on the pillow, and drifted off to sleep. In the morning, she would not even remember waking.
Such was the way of dreams.
-----
"Something wrong, Guin? You don't look so good this morning."
"Hm?" Guin said absently, glancing at Rilla. She had not slept well, and had a pounding headache.
"You've got circles under your eyes."
"Oh."
"You'd tell me if something was wrong."
"'Course I would."
"You wouldn't be noble and not say anything?"
"C'mon, Ril. Me, noble? That's like Lockhart actually having something intelligent to say."
"He's not as bad as you think!"
"Oh yes, he is."
"He's not!"
"Were you paying attention during his class?"
"Well, I was hiding from the pixies at the time—"
"See?"
"No!"
"Arguing, ladies?" L'Argent asked, appearing behind them. "You look lovely this morning," he told Guin with a smirk, while offering her an imaginary bouquet of flowers.
"Thanks ever so," she replied, in equally sardonic vein, "Rilla pointed that out, as well."
"What is that ravishing hue of eye shadow? Black-Eye Purple?"
"Ha. Ha. You're funny, L'Argent, just hilarious," she said sourly.
"I know."
"Maybe you should try it on someone who's in the mood to hear."
"Ouch. She's biting this morning. Any clue as to the sudden transformation, Ril?"
"No," the blue-eyed girl replied, and was about to say more when Guin yawned. Rilla couldn't help the contagious action, she yawned as well, and rubbed her eyes. "I assume she didn't sleep well. Whatever it is she won't say, in any event."
"Awww," L'Argent said. "Did you have bad dreams, Marlowe? Were you scared? Miss your teddy-bear?"
"You know, I think you'd be a lot prettier missing an arm. Or two. Or maybe just missing your mouth," Guin said, in no mood for banter. Though she remembered falling asleep, the girl supposed that she'd slept badly. Perhaps she had been lying in a funny position. Whatever the cause, she did not feel like doing anything that morning. In fact, she didn't feel like doing anything at all, this week. "I think I'm skipping Defense on Monday," she informed L'Argent.
"You can't do that!" Rilla said, shocked. "You can't skip classes."
"Watch me," Guin said.
They ate breakfast in silence. For once, L'Argent decided to keep his mouth shut, and it was decidedly to his advantage. By the end of the meal Guin's temper had cooled somewhat and she was able to address him civilly, without any undue threats of murder or dismemberment. "So did you hear?" he said to her.
"Hear what?"
"Malfoy's the new Seeker for our team this year."
"Oh, no!" Guin said, face falling. "We'll /never/ win now."
"His dad's given Nimbus 2001's to the team. Bought his way on. Slimy bugger."
"What a git!" Guin said, disgusted.
"Yeah," L'Argent said moodily. "There had to have been a better choice."
"Not for Seeker. I might've tried out, but I play Chaser."
"Me, too."
"I didn't know that."
"And Beater. But only sometimes."
"He's going to ruin everything. He can fly, but can he catch a Snitch?"
"Snape doesn't look to happy about it, though. He's given them time to train this morning because he's got no confidence in Malfoy. The whole team went out about fifteen minutes ago."
"I can imagine! Hey – they're back already?" Guin said, glancing up in surprise. The entire Slytherin team, laughing raucously, had come into the Great Hall, followed by the Gryffindor team, who were looking murderous. "I wonder what happened..."
"We'll find out soon enough – Flint's going to say something."
Marcus Flint, the captain of the Slytherin team and a boy who was not exactly a first-rate intellect, stood upon a chair and waved his arms for silence. "I'd like to congratulate the Gryffindor team—" he began, to sniggers from his teammates, "For being related to – ah – true magical talent," Flint smirked, grinning ghoulishly at the waiting crowd. The Gryffindors were glowering darkly. "I'm sure Ronald Weasley will enjoy belching up slugs the rest of the afternoon.
"Thank you," he said, jumping heavily from the chair.
People laughed, though the Slytherins loudest of all. The giggles of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs was more nervous tittering than any real show of hilarity, though Guin thought the situation was really quite funny. The Weasleys had not made themselves popular among those of the green and silver; they were generally biased against even the most mild of Slytherins, like Jessica. "Well, that was amusing," Guin said, fighting a grin.
"Yes, and miraculous, too."
"'Miraculous'?"
"It got you to smile, didn't it?"
They were able to see the unfortunate Weasley-child after lunch. He and Potter were sitting outside on the stairs, away from the main crush of people, with a large bucket handy to catch Ron's occasional bouts of slug-burping. "What do you want?" he asked sourly, seeing the two Slytherins walking by. Anything else he had been about to say was cut off by another slug attack; Guin watched in fascination as he coughed up the slimy, disgusting bugs. They erupted from his mouth and slithered over his lips; Weasley's face was bright red, clashing with his hair.
"You know, Weasley," Guin said cheerfully, "If you saved those, you could open up a restaurant."
"Specializing in escargot," L'Argent added, nodding sagely.
"What do you want?" Potter demanded, dark green eyes narrowing.
"We merely wanted to see the Amazing Slug-Boy," Guin replied with a slightly nasty smile. "It's not every day you see something like that."
"Go away, Marlowe," Ron said weakly, glaring at her.
"As always, lovely talking to you," L'Argent said in a courtly fashion, throwing an elegant bow and trotting ahead of Guin. "Last one to the front lawn's a rotten egg!"
"I guess that's me, then, because I have no intention of running, you dunce!" Guin yelled after him, taking her time as she followed. Before they left, she thought she heard Potter say something to Weasley, but she didn't quite catch it.
"They're like a married couple," Harry muttered to Ron, who rolled his eyes.
"/Slytherins/."
-----
"Let's beg some brooms off of Hooch and go flying," L'Argent suggested, puppy-dog gray eyes pleading. "C'mon, Guin, it'll get you to stop moping around."
"Flying where?"
"I don't know. Over the lawns. Over the lake."
"Okay."
Though she was initially skeptical, the stocky Flying instructor agreed to lend Guin and L'Argent a pair of broomsticks, both of which were old and decrepit to the extreme. "They're the best I can let you take. Don't take them off the grounds," she said, ticking off the points on her fingers, "Don't go in the Forest. Have them back by two. If they're damaged in any way, shape, or form, you're both getting detentions."
"Don't worry, Madam Hooch," Guin reassured her, muttering out of the side of her mouth to L'Argent. "I swear. She and Madam Pince are obsessive."
"Yes."
They slid easily onto the brooms, Cushioning Charms making it easier to sit down. Guin kicked off from the ground, shooting up into the air as fast as she could go. Last year, during Flying class, Neville Longbottom had done the exact same thing, though not on purpose. He had fallen and broken his arm, though Guin was not that clumsy. L'Argent followed, urging his broom higher. For a while, they amused themselves that way, racing to see who could attain the greatest heights the fastest. Eventually, though, when the people below were tiny specks traversing along the grass, L'Argent yelled over to her. "This is high enough!"
"Chicken!" she yelled back, and he grinned.
"Sensible."
"It amounts to the same thing."
"Race you to the ground!" he yelled, going into a dive.
"Cheater!" she screamed furiously after him, but spiraled down after him quickly enough.
"Slytherin," he corrected her with an infuriating grin, "Who's a chicken now?" The wind whipped his words away. The ground grew closer – closer – she swerved upward to avoid crashing, and hovered about ten feet above the surface, catching her breath.
"Whew," she said.
"I won," L'Argent said with a dimpled smile.
"You started before me."
"Details, details."
They drifted along at that height, enjoying the day. Guin was feeling more awake, the problems sleeping that had plagued her earlier that day did not bother her nearly so much. "Hm." They were near the edge of the grounds, now, on the boundary. "Let's head back. Madam Hooch will murder us if we don't."
"Wait – who's that?" L'Argent said, whipping his head around.
"Where?"
"That's odd. I could have sworn I saw something silvery over there. Like a person."
"A ghost?"
"No, I don't think so... Whatever it is isn't there anymore."
"Odd," Guin said, looking around. She saw no one. "Look, let's go."
"...Right," he said vaguely, peering over his shoulder on the way back.
A sudden idea made Guin grin. She kicked her broom into top speed. "Race you!" she called over her shoulder.
"Hey! That's not fair!" L'Argent yelled, and hurried to catch up.
"She has old ghosts that I have shown to her."
-- Neil Gaiman, The Doll's House
----------------------------------------------------------
"So much work," Guin groaned, as she flopped onto her four-poster bed, with the pale green curtains thrown carelessly to the sides. She was weary, but with the ache that comes from a day spent thinking, rather than doing. She was glad to lie down, as the desks of Hogwarts were not designed with student comfort in mind. "And it's only the first day."
"Professor Snape isn't going easy on us, either," Sally-Ann said glumly, shaking her head and sending lank blond hair whipping in every direction. "A lab report on Melting Magics."
"I like Potions," Jessica said after a moment's pause. She was taciturn, usually, and so all heads in the room turned towards her to see what she had to say. "It's a lot like chemistry, at my old school. You just have to mix things correctly."
"Not all of us," Blaise Zabini said languorously, and perhaps just a bit sarcastically, "Have the benefit of being Muggle-born." She stretched leisurely, twirling a raven curl around one finger while reclining on the bed. Her pose seemed wrong somehow, it did not fit a girl of her age.
"No, you don't," Jessica said, her voice a quiet though steely murmur, "I have to admit you're at a disadvantage."
"Touché!" cried Blaise, clapping her hands together in a sardonic expression of delight. It seemed that there were breaks to her amicable exterior, after all. Guin filed that information away for further reference. "Ah, our resident mouse has a tongue in her head after all!"
"Lay off, Zabini," Sally-Ann said. Jessica's dark, catlike face had slivered to an indescribable expression, compounded of hurt and annoyance.
"What was that, Jess?" Guin asked. The other girl had whispered something, in a voice too soft to hear.
"I said I can take care of myself."
"Blaise, what's with you today?" Sally-Ann asked, eyes narrowing shrewdly. "If I have a guess, I'd say it's something to do with a boy, mm? In love with the new Professor?" She fluttered her translucent eyelashes mockingly, twisting her neck and head into a pining stare.
To their delight, Blaise blushed, and turned up her nose. "No!"
"Come on, we know you too well," Guin said, "We know the look, too. That's the 'I've been turned down by a boy' look."
"I've never even had a boyfriend!"
"That's your main ambition in life," Guin said serenely.
"Give her time," Sally-Ann said seriously as she peered at the other children, "She's only twelve."
"For your information, I had a very intellectual chat with Professor Lockhart after class," Blaise said with a haughty air.
"Oh, really?" Guin said dubiously, "What did you talk about? Hair-care products?"
Blaise turned even redder. "Um. Yes."
Sally-Ann and Guin snickered, but Jessica merely smiled. "'Night," she said, contented, and drew the curtains around her bed, hiding herself from view.
After a moment, Guin did the same, slumping back onto the pillow. Sliding under the covers, folded crisply by the house-elves, the girl tossed over on her side, attempting to find a comfortable position. With a wide yawn, Guin shut her eyes and waited to drift off. She rarely dreamed, or if she did, rarely remembered what they had been about. One odd dream that stuck in her mind involved rabbits in trench-coats and a bright-pink old-fashioned bathroom. Perhaps, Guin thought muzzily, it was best that she didn't remember them.
She was unable to tell the exact point at which her somewhat tangled thought process abruptly relinquished its hold on her brain, but it moved seamlessly. A jumble of images and sounds thrown from the deepest realms of her subconscious were presented before her, playing in an endless loop of motion and cacophony.
A girl's voice, begging for mercy, strained with pain and terror; a man's tongue, shrieking rage and agony to the sky; her mother's tones, chanting wordlessly with a smug evocation of satisfaction. Blood death fear FEAR blackness – respite, oblivion. Angeline's face, lit from below by a stage light, with the soft yellow glow making caverns in her face, smiling white teeth showing in too-young features image from the past with golden curls and sea green eyes and icy vainess. Locked in a battle of will with an alien presence – Angeline's resolution forced the other down—
Guin sat up abruptly, sweating. What she had been dreaming about was completely lost to her, but the girl knew it had been something— something— she shuddered and wiped her forehead. Whatever it had been, it was a nameless night-terror, and she was no longer a child. With a determination that belonged to one much older, the girl clamped her mouth into a thin line, lay back on the pillow, and drifted off to sleep. In the morning, she would not even remember waking.
Such was the way of dreams.
-----
"Something wrong, Guin? You don't look so good this morning."
"Hm?" Guin said absently, glancing at Rilla. She had not slept well, and had a pounding headache.
"You've got circles under your eyes."
"Oh."
"You'd tell me if something was wrong."
"'Course I would."
"You wouldn't be noble and not say anything?"
"C'mon, Ril. Me, noble? That's like Lockhart actually having something intelligent to say."
"He's not as bad as you think!"
"Oh yes, he is."
"He's not!"
"Were you paying attention during his class?"
"Well, I was hiding from the pixies at the time—"
"See?"
"No!"
"Arguing, ladies?" L'Argent asked, appearing behind them. "You look lovely this morning," he told Guin with a smirk, while offering her an imaginary bouquet of flowers.
"Thanks ever so," she replied, in equally sardonic vein, "Rilla pointed that out, as well."
"What is that ravishing hue of eye shadow? Black-Eye Purple?"
"Ha. Ha. You're funny, L'Argent, just hilarious," she said sourly.
"I know."
"Maybe you should try it on someone who's in the mood to hear."
"Ouch. She's biting this morning. Any clue as to the sudden transformation, Ril?"
"No," the blue-eyed girl replied, and was about to say more when Guin yawned. Rilla couldn't help the contagious action, she yawned as well, and rubbed her eyes. "I assume she didn't sleep well. Whatever it is she won't say, in any event."
"Awww," L'Argent said. "Did you have bad dreams, Marlowe? Were you scared? Miss your teddy-bear?"
"You know, I think you'd be a lot prettier missing an arm. Or two. Or maybe just missing your mouth," Guin said, in no mood for banter. Though she remembered falling asleep, the girl supposed that she'd slept badly. Perhaps she had been lying in a funny position. Whatever the cause, she did not feel like doing anything that morning. In fact, she didn't feel like doing anything at all, this week. "I think I'm skipping Defense on Monday," she informed L'Argent.
"You can't do that!" Rilla said, shocked. "You can't skip classes."
"Watch me," Guin said.
They ate breakfast in silence. For once, L'Argent decided to keep his mouth shut, and it was decidedly to his advantage. By the end of the meal Guin's temper had cooled somewhat and she was able to address him civilly, without any undue threats of murder or dismemberment. "So did you hear?" he said to her.
"Hear what?"
"Malfoy's the new Seeker for our team this year."
"Oh, no!" Guin said, face falling. "We'll /never/ win now."
"His dad's given Nimbus 2001's to the team. Bought his way on. Slimy bugger."
"What a git!" Guin said, disgusted.
"Yeah," L'Argent said moodily. "There had to have been a better choice."
"Not for Seeker. I might've tried out, but I play Chaser."
"Me, too."
"I didn't know that."
"And Beater. But only sometimes."
"He's going to ruin everything. He can fly, but can he catch a Snitch?"
"Snape doesn't look to happy about it, though. He's given them time to train this morning because he's got no confidence in Malfoy. The whole team went out about fifteen minutes ago."
"I can imagine! Hey – they're back already?" Guin said, glancing up in surprise. The entire Slytherin team, laughing raucously, had come into the Great Hall, followed by the Gryffindor team, who were looking murderous. "I wonder what happened..."
"We'll find out soon enough – Flint's going to say something."
Marcus Flint, the captain of the Slytherin team and a boy who was not exactly a first-rate intellect, stood upon a chair and waved his arms for silence. "I'd like to congratulate the Gryffindor team—" he began, to sniggers from his teammates, "For being related to – ah – true magical talent," Flint smirked, grinning ghoulishly at the waiting crowd. The Gryffindors were glowering darkly. "I'm sure Ronald Weasley will enjoy belching up slugs the rest of the afternoon.
"Thank you," he said, jumping heavily from the chair.
People laughed, though the Slytherins loudest of all. The giggles of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs was more nervous tittering than any real show of hilarity, though Guin thought the situation was really quite funny. The Weasleys had not made themselves popular among those of the green and silver; they were generally biased against even the most mild of Slytherins, like Jessica. "Well, that was amusing," Guin said, fighting a grin.
"Yes, and miraculous, too."
"'Miraculous'?"
"It got you to smile, didn't it?"
They were able to see the unfortunate Weasley-child after lunch. He and Potter were sitting outside on the stairs, away from the main crush of people, with a large bucket handy to catch Ron's occasional bouts of slug-burping. "What do you want?" he asked sourly, seeing the two Slytherins walking by. Anything else he had been about to say was cut off by another slug attack; Guin watched in fascination as he coughed up the slimy, disgusting bugs. They erupted from his mouth and slithered over his lips; Weasley's face was bright red, clashing with his hair.
"You know, Weasley," Guin said cheerfully, "If you saved those, you could open up a restaurant."
"Specializing in escargot," L'Argent added, nodding sagely.
"What do you want?" Potter demanded, dark green eyes narrowing.
"We merely wanted to see the Amazing Slug-Boy," Guin replied with a slightly nasty smile. "It's not every day you see something like that."
"Go away, Marlowe," Ron said weakly, glaring at her.
"As always, lovely talking to you," L'Argent said in a courtly fashion, throwing an elegant bow and trotting ahead of Guin. "Last one to the front lawn's a rotten egg!"
"I guess that's me, then, because I have no intention of running, you dunce!" Guin yelled after him, taking her time as she followed. Before they left, she thought she heard Potter say something to Weasley, but she didn't quite catch it.
"They're like a married couple," Harry muttered to Ron, who rolled his eyes.
"/Slytherins/."
-----
"Let's beg some brooms off of Hooch and go flying," L'Argent suggested, puppy-dog gray eyes pleading. "C'mon, Guin, it'll get you to stop moping around."
"Flying where?"
"I don't know. Over the lawns. Over the lake."
"Okay."
Though she was initially skeptical, the stocky Flying instructor agreed to lend Guin and L'Argent a pair of broomsticks, both of which were old and decrepit to the extreme. "They're the best I can let you take. Don't take them off the grounds," she said, ticking off the points on her fingers, "Don't go in the Forest. Have them back by two. If they're damaged in any way, shape, or form, you're both getting detentions."
"Don't worry, Madam Hooch," Guin reassured her, muttering out of the side of her mouth to L'Argent. "I swear. She and Madam Pince are obsessive."
"Yes."
They slid easily onto the brooms, Cushioning Charms making it easier to sit down. Guin kicked off from the ground, shooting up into the air as fast as she could go. Last year, during Flying class, Neville Longbottom had done the exact same thing, though not on purpose. He had fallen and broken his arm, though Guin was not that clumsy. L'Argent followed, urging his broom higher. For a while, they amused themselves that way, racing to see who could attain the greatest heights the fastest. Eventually, though, when the people below were tiny specks traversing along the grass, L'Argent yelled over to her. "This is high enough!"
"Chicken!" she yelled back, and he grinned.
"Sensible."
"It amounts to the same thing."
"Race you to the ground!" he yelled, going into a dive.
"Cheater!" she screamed furiously after him, but spiraled down after him quickly enough.
"Slytherin," he corrected her with an infuriating grin, "Who's a chicken now?" The wind whipped his words away. The ground grew closer – closer – she swerved upward to avoid crashing, and hovered about ten feet above the surface, catching her breath.
"Whew," she said.
"I won," L'Argent said with a dimpled smile.
"You started before me."
"Details, details."
They drifted along at that height, enjoying the day. Guin was feeling more awake, the problems sleeping that had plagued her earlier that day did not bother her nearly so much. "Hm." They were near the edge of the grounds, now, on the boundary. "Let's head back. Madam Hooch will murder us if we don't."
"Wait – who's that?" L'Argent said, whipping his head around.
"Where?"
"That's odd. I could have sworn I saw something silvery over there. Like a person."
"A ghost?"
"No, I don't think so... Whatever it is isn't there anymore."
"Odd," Guin said, looking around. She saw no one. "Look, let's go."
"...Right," he said vaguely, peering over his shoulder on the way back.
A sudden idea made Guin grin. She kicked her broom into top speed. "Race you!" she called over her shoulder.
"Hey! That's not fair!" L'Argent yelled, and hurried to catch up.