HPFF(7)
"Oh, Phebe," said Harry.
"Oh, Harry," said Phebe.
"Oh bother!" said Ron, bursting out of the closet in the empty Arithmancy classroom. "I really think I should go now."
Phebe and Harry froze in their passionate embrace. Ron shuffled nervously to the door.
"W-what are you doing here?" sputtered Harry.
"I was, er, looking around a bit when I heard someone coming. I thought it might be a teacher," Ron shrugged, embarrassed, "So I hid in the closet."
"Right," nodded Harry. "Bye then."
"Well .." Ron looked around uncertainly. "Oh, whatever," he mumbled.
"What now?" asked Harry exasperatedly.
"Hermione!" bellowed Ron. Hermione emerged from the closet. She smiled sourly, grabbed Ron's arm and dragged him out of the classroom. The door slammed shut behind them.
Phebe and Harry looked at it in silence for a moment.
"Don't you want to check if there's anyone else in that closet?" asked Phebe with a hint of sarcasm.
Harry snorted. "No."
* * *
"So," said Professor Finstad. "Does anyone know the answer to this problem?" His eyes were fixed on Wera. A small smile played across his lips.
"Hmmm," Wera said, gazing back.
"The answer," Finstad said absently, "is not in my eyes, Ms. Ghrandol."
* * *
"That," Wera exclaimed," was the most realistic dream I ever had!"
"Realistic my foot," mumbled Phebe.
"Oh, stop it!" Wera sneered haughtily. "I know he wouldn't ever say something like that in class."
"In class?" Phebe asked curiously. "What about outside of class?"
"Well .." Wera smirked.
"Uh-oh," said Phebe, not sure she wanted to hear the rest of this.
"He's very different outside of class," Wera explained dreamily.
"You know, if you're saying what I think you're saying," Phebe shook her head, "Then it could cost him his job."
Wera pouted.
"I'm not judging you," Phebe said, flipping her palms skyward.
* * *
"Aaaaaaah!" yelled Phebe, charging at Sabrina Lefler and Vanessa Precious. "Aaaaah! You're back!"
"Mmmpf! agreed Sabrina, muffled by Phebe's arms. Phebe pulled out of the embrace and threw herself at Vanessa Precious. She beamed at her returned friends.
Sabrina sputtered and daintily plucked a fuzzle that had attached itself to her mouth. Vanessa smiled. (Vanessa Precious = Nessa or Vanessa One, Vanessa Roche = Van or Vanessa Two)
* * *
Terry Mada and Jack McFelton sat in the seventh-years' common lounge with twin looks of despair plastered on their faces.
"Hello," Phebe said, getting no answer. She waved her hand in their line of vision.
"Stop," mumbled Terry, pushing her hand away and continuing to stare intently into space. Jack followed suit.
"What's wrong?" asked Phebe, worried.
"Nothing," sighed Jack. "Just depressed."
"Oh," said Phebe, not sure what to say. "Why?"
"Hmmm," hummed Terry. Phebe decided any further comment would be a complete waste of breath. She left the lounge for the library.
At the door, Izzy Mortimer grasped Phebe by her arms. This was pretty difficult as she was simultaneously clutching a stack of papers.
"Aaah!" yelled Isabella, "I have so much work!"
"Hmm," said Phebe, as Izzy pushed her back into the lounge. She dragged Phebe over to where Jack and Terry were moping.
"I need company," explained Izzy, throwing down her stack of documents and getting another panic attack.
Phebe sighed. She had nothing better to do anyway. Phebe glanced at Jack and Terry who were still slouching around, brimming with self-pity. Then Phebe noticed with surprise that Jack was clutching a crumpled piece of paper in his left hand.
"What's this?" asked Phebe, plucking it from him. She skimmed through the crinkled paper. It was obviously a letter, written in rounded cursive. "It's in French," said Phebe, stating the obvious.
"It's from Anaïse," Jack heaved a sigh.
"Ana-who?" Phebe asked, puzzled.
"Anaïse," said Terry, taking control of the situation and explaining for his suffering friend. "His ex-girlfriend."
"Oh," nodded Phebe, reading the letter again.
Cher Jack,
I am très desolée to say: c'est fini! It's over, as you would say, en anglais. J'ai un autre. You are un garçon très sympa, mais you are too far away, trop loin, chéri! C'était pas possible de continuer notre liaison!
"So, what does it say?" interrupted Terry.
"You haven't read it?" Phebe asked, turning to Jack.
"No. It's in French. I can't read French." Jack frowned. "What I did get is that she dumped me."
"What does it say-ay!" Terry badgered.
"Well," said Phebe, whose knowledge of French was just a little more than Terry and Jack's combined. "She says she's sorry, but it's over."
"Duh," scoffed Terry. "We got that."
"She says you're a very nice boy, Jack, but you live too far away," Phebe continued, opting to censor the part that stated clearly that Anaïse had a new boyfriend. "And that it's impossible to continue your relationship over such a distance."
"Wow," said Jack unenthusiastically. "It's the first time I've ever been dumped by post and I can't read it."
"So tell me about this Anaïse person," prompted Phebe.
"She cheated on me. And as you see, she just dumped me," said Jack glumly.
"Ouch," said Phebe, handing him the fateful letter.
"And she's from Beauxbatons," added Terry, pronouncing it "box-battons," American-style.
"Explains the French," Phebe thought out loud.
"Whee!" yelled Sage Isaacs, bursting into the lounge. Vanessa Roche followed her in, quieter, but her face was adorned with a smug smile. "Guess what?!"
"What?" asked Phebe obediently, sure that nothing would surprise her anymore today.
"Molotov is going to be playing in Hogsmeade in about two months!" Sage clapped her hands excitedly. Phebe sat up, suddenly very interested.
"You're kidding!" she gasped.
"Who?" asked Terry, not because he really wanted to know, but because it seemed like the right think to say.
Van ignored him. "It's on the thirteenth," she said.
Phebe grabbed Izzy's log and flipped through it. "A Friday!" she exclaimed.
"Oh goody!" Sage clapped her hands again.
"Hmm .." said Van thoughtfully, "Isn't there some superstition ..?"
"I won't say it," Phebe protested, "I won't take your bait."
"My bait?" asked Van with mock innocence, knowing perfectly well what Phebe meant. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You want me to say 'It's just a stupid Muggle superstition.' And I won't." Phebe rolled her eyes.
"Nooo," denied Van, smiling.
"Pshh," vociferated Phebe.
"So, you wanna go?" Sages asked excitedly. "Come on, come on!"
"Hmm," said Phebe.
"It'll be fun!" Sage assured her.
"Hmm," said Phebe again, checking her mental calendar. Hadn't she planned something with someone on some Friday the thirteenth? Hmm, oh well. "Sure," she said.
"Yay!" exclaimed Sage. "Now all I need to do is get the tickets .. and some earplugs."
"Why?" asked Terry. (Not because he wanted to know but because it seemed like the right thing to say.)
"Shut up!" snapped Phebe, not being a very patient person.
"My ears," explained Sage, covering them with her hands, "are very sensitive."
"SO you need the earplugs to filter the sound," finished Phebe. Sage nodded, still clutching her ears.
"Ah, guys," said Vanessa. Sage and Phebe turned to face her. "We – have a little – problem."
"And what would that be?" asked the impatient Phebe.
"Well, the weekend of the concert is Hogwarts Anniversary Day," Van reminded those, who, unlike her, were not members of forty-something knowledgeable school clubs and committees.
"Screw that," Phebe said quickly. "I always forget birthdays anyhow."
"Yeah," agreed Sage, "It's not like they can make us party."
"No," said Van with the air of one who knew almost everything and was respected for it. "But they can make us stay." She turned towards the pin board that was still covered with Janine's Halloween Polaroids and additionally clustered with the usual array of notices and advertisements. Van fished her wand out of her pocket. "Proximus!"
In a flash, a white piece of parchment detached itself from the notice board and flitted comfortably into Vanessa's open hand.
"Being magic sure makes some people pretty darned lazy," Phebe remarked sarcastically and was instantly swatted lightly on the back of her head. "Yow!"
"Hogwarts Anniversary Day Weekend," read Van.
"That makes a lot of sense," snorted Phebe.
Ignoring her, Vanessa continued. "February thirteenth and fourteenth. Students are to stay on campus in their dorms, the library or the common rooms. Festivities will begin at seven pm in the Great Hall."
"Huh?!" exclaimed Phebe. "Since when can't we go off campus on H.A.D.? Has Dumbledore slightly lost the last bit of mind he has left?"
"Shh!" hissed Sage, clapping a hand over Phebe's mouth. "That's not a very nice thing to say!"
"Mmpf!" Phebe protested, shoving Sage's hand away. "Blech! What class did you just have?"
"Herbology," said Sage casually. "We were working with Sulpher-roots. Maybe I should have washed my hands .."
Phebe promptly went into a coughing and sputtering fit. "GROSS!"
"I was kidding!" exclaimed Sage, trying to suppress her laughter.
"Ahem," Van ahem-ed. "We need to resolve this."
"The campus problem?" queried Phebe, scowling at Sage.
"That and how to get out," Van said. "I suppose we could, well, sneak out."
"Good plan, Sherlock," smiled Phebe, as she ducked another reprimanding smack.
"This is serious," Sages reminded her. "I really want to see Molotov."
"I'll think of something," Phebe shrugged. "If all else fails, we can always get in touch with the infamous Weasley twins."
"Whatever it takes," said Van.
* * *
That evening at 11 pm, Phebe sighed and gathered her books and papers. She had been sitting in the lounge since 9 pm, trying to catch up on some Potions work. It was impossible to concentrate in the Ravenclaw common room, so she had retreated to the lounge instead. Phebe yawned, wondering if it was lethal to have only three hours of sleep per night for an extended period of time.
She was the only one left in the lounge (not counting the twelve House-elves that were dusting a rack of spell books in the corner). Phebe was not looking forward to the piles of application forms and brochures she had in her dorm that were waiting to be sifted through. It would probably take until one am.
The halls were dimly lit and, in Phebe's opinion, completely creepy. But what did her opinion count? She was too lazy to join the Muggle Convenience Committee to rally for electricity in Hogwarts. Dumbledore, though the Muggle-lover he was, would probably never consent to that anyway.
Back in the dorm, Phebe shuffled through the applications absently and watched Wera get ready to go somewhere.
"Why are you getting to dressed up?" asked Phebe, eyeing her friend's tight top, short skirt and stylish sneakers.
"Oh, out," murmured Wera, pulling a tie loosely around her neck to add the finishing touch to her fashionably sloppy academic style.
"I wonder," said Phebe, not wondering at all and turning back to her forms.
A few minutes after Wera had left, Phebe realized she'd left her calculator, a Muggle artifact she needed for a presentation the next day, in the lounge.
"Better go get that," she told herself. Creeping stealthily through the eerie hallways, Phebe hummed to herself to cover the uneasy silence that spread like thick fog around her. She did not like silence at all.
"You don't have to bother," she sang softly. I hope I don't run into anything, Phebe thought when, surprise, surprise: she did. Phebe gasped, looking around the empty corridor. The she heard a familiar snicker.
"That was not funny, Harry," she huffed, leaning against the sturdy castle wall to catch her breath.
"Aw, can't you take a joke?" Harry smiled, pulling off the Cloak of Invisibility. "I was just having a little fun."
"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn," said Phebe eloquently. "And no, I cannot take a joke. Not when it's dark and late and creepy."
"Where are you off to?" asked Harry.
"The lounge," said Phebe. "Forgot my Muggle artifact."
"Hmm," hummed Harry.
"Yep," said Phebe. "Where are you going?"
"I was going to look for you," Harry grinned.
"I'm very busy right now," Phebe excused herself. She motioned down the hall. "Can we walk in the general direction of the lounge? I need that artifact."
"Sure," said Harry, taking her hand. They walked to the lounge in silence.
"Locked," said Phebe, stating the obvious as she tugged at the lounge door.
"Alohomora," said Harry as the door clicked. "Unlocked." He slapped his forehead. "I forgot! I still need to go post a letter. See you in the morning!" He pecked Phebe on the cheek and dashed off, presumable destination: Owl Tower.
"Thank you for leaving me here in the dark," said Phebe to thin air. "Lumos!" Phebe's wand sparked a few times and finally glowed, spreading a greenish – yet comforting – light around her. She reminded herself to go to the wand repair shop in Hogsmeade some time soon. She stepped gingerly into the sinister lounge.
Twenty-four glistening ovals glinting in the distance shocked Phebe, until she figured they probably belonged to the House-elvish cleaning staff. She snatched her contemporary Muggle relic off the desk by the wall and got the heck out of there. The empty lounge sure looked scary at night. Firmly pulling the door shut, Phebe crammed through her memory for a locking charm but when she was confronted by the utter chaos of her thoughts, she gave up and hurried back to the dorm.
Turning around and particularly dark corner, she collided with Cerise, who seemed to be in a very foul mood.
"Cherry!" Phebe exclaimed.
"Hi," said Cerise, sounding slightly belligerent.
"Something wrong?"
"No," Cerise paused. "Yes."
"What?"
"It's complicated," Cerise said, shaking her head.
"So you don't want to tell me?" Phebe asked.
"Not now," admitted Cerise. "What are you doing here?"
"Long story," said Phebe. Then a very unnerving thought bubbled in her mind. "Cherry," she gulped, "What would twelve House-elves be doing in a locked room in the middle of the night?"
"What?" asked Cerise, confused.
"The door to the lounge was locked when I got there. Something was in the lounge," Phebe gasped and clutched her Muggle calculator closely to her chest. "I assumed it was a group of House-elves – but what if it wasn't? The lounge is unlocked now .."
"Why wouldn't the lounge be locked?" asked Cerise dubiously.
"I forgot the charm," explained Phebe, chewing on a fingernail and worrying that, any second now, a herd of Gremlins could come and attack her.
"Ack," said Cerise, slapping her forehead. "There are chutes and tunnels and tiny secret doors that the House-elves use to get around Hogwarts. The faculty locks the classrooms at night but the House-elves can still get around in their little system."
"Phew," said Phebe, removing her ruined nail from her mouth and wiping her brow.
"Didn't you read –"
"Hogwarts: A History," Hermione finished for Cerise. She had crept up to them unnoticed.
"You scared me!" Phebe gasped. "What are you doing here?"
"I've gotten locked out of the dorm," explained Hermione. "The Fat Lady went for a visit to another portrait so I decided to take a walk."
"She's probably back now," Cerise pointed out.
"I don't know the new password." Hermione shrugged. It was really not like her to be so unorganized. Phebe felt a pang of sympathy well up inside her. After all, she herself been locked out of her own dorm overnight numerous times before.
"You can stay in my dorm," she offered.
"Thank you," said Hermione, really sounding grateful. "I thought I'd have to spend the night on the prowl." Hermione's eyes looked a little moist. "I'm glad I found you."
Hmm, thought Phebe, maybe Mione is human after all.