HPFF(8)
Sage Isaacs riffled nervously through her notebook. She drummed her fingers on her temples. "Sage, what did you do with your Arithmancy homework?" she said, her big blue eyes widening. "This is not cool."
"Hmm," said Phebe.
"We don't have Muggle Studies today," Eavan Lesse informed Phebe, Sage and Bliefta Jamage.
"We don't?" asked Sage eagerly.
"I don't," the Ravenclaw corrected herself.
"Blech," added Phebe. "I have a double hour of ADADA now."
"Blech?" Sage asked, as Van Roche entered the library and sat herself down next to Phebe.
"What's blech?" queried Van.
"Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts," Bliefta said formally. The Hufflepuff head-boy smiled.
"Oh, Pheebs, you don't like ADADA?" Van was puzzled. "I thought you did. Or is it F –"
"No, it's Wera. She's always drooling over Finstad and it's getting pretty annoying. I think I'll skip today." Phebe put on her best pouty face.
"Uh-uh," sad Van, shaking her head. "You need to pass this course."
"I know who's definitely passing this semester," Phebe said evilly.
"Hmm?" said Van. Bliefta, Eavan and Sage leaned in closer. "What do you mean?"
"Well," said Phebe smugly.
"Oh, don't say it!" Van exclaimed, putting her hands over her ears. "I have the feeling I don't want to hear this!"
"And I have the feeling I do," said Eavan matter-of-factly. "Do go on."
"Go to class," Van suggested, "You need the credits."
"Blah," said Phebe, gathering her books. "Later, everyone."
"Good-bye," said Bliefta in his formal way.
* * *
Phebe sighed and forced her feet to keep moving in the direction of the ADADA classroom. She hoped that she would run into someone, anyone, who she could hang out with instead of going to class. Phebe was in no mood for warding off curses at all. She encountered none of her friends on her seemingly endless walk. The halls of Hogwarts had chosen this day to be perfectly empty of any of Phebe's acquaintances, except for a few annoying first-years.
Sighing, the Ravenclaw entered her ADADA class. For the first time this school year, she was not late. On the contrary, Phebe actually seemed to be early. She looked around the room. Finstad had not arrived yet. Two other Ravenclaws, both artificial blonds, were filing their long, pink fingernails and discussing the hotness of Professor Finstad in degrees. Phebe turned what she called 'a blind ear.'
When the door opened, Phebe spun around to see who it was, thinking finally Wera or another of her friends had arrived.
It was Xelan Enadio. He had opened the door and was leaning into the classroom, his left arm resting on the door handle. In his other arm, he held – Cho! Xelan and Cho appeared to be kissing. Phebe stared at them in shock. Then she felt a pang of – was it? – jealousy?
Blushing, she turned back to her books and began to stack them. She flipped through the pages absently, staring into space.
After Cho had left, Xelan walked down to the front of the classroom, ignoring Phebe completely. Her eyes followed him to an extra desk, set just a little apart from Finstad's, that hadn't been there last week. Xelan sat down and made himself comfortable. Phebe raised a book to eye-level so she could steal shy glances over the top at him.
Xelan whipped out a Muggle cell phone. He was completely engrossed in it and Phebe was totally absorbed in watching him when the gong sounded. Xelan looked up. Their eyes met for a split second. Phebe looked away and hid behind her book, feeling heat and redness creeping up her neck and taking over her cheeks. Then she wondered where exactly Wera was.
By this time, the majority of the class had arrived. The only other person missing seemed to be Finstad.
Several minutes later, the aforesaid teacher stomped into the room, obviously in a foul mood, and began with the lesson before he had even sat down.
* * *
Phebe stomped into the seventh-year lounge and tossed all but one book on the table in the secluded corner. Without a word, she plunked heavily into a chair next to Nima Thodridge.
Nima was a dark-haired, round-faced Ravenclaw. She had rosy cheeks, big brown eyes, a tendency to be violent and a ready smile for everyone.
"What's wrong?" she asked with concern, putting down a Muggle novel she had been reading.
Phebe looked up from her ADADA textbook. "Oh, nothing, except for the fact that Finstad decided to take his frustration out on us students in the form of a twenty-page reading assignment!"
Nima winced sympathetically. "That's pretty bad."
"And have you seen Wera?" Phebe added. "I can't believe she skipped ADADA." She glimpsed at the title of Nima's book. "Is that for class?"
"No.." said Nima.
"She would so not skip that class." Phebe sighed. "Wera would just not skip, I know that. Unless.." A thought his Phebe mentally across her forehead. "Duh!"
"Huh?" asked a confused Nima.
"I'll explain later!" Phebe said, grabbing her books and rushing off. Suddenly, it had all made sense: Finstad's mood, Wera's absence..
"Ok," said Nima, turning back to the Muggle fantasy bestseller she had been reading before Phebe had arrived. Muggle fantasy novels were so entertaining.
Phebe ran down the hall, around a corner, up stairs. Was Wera in the dorm? What if she hadn't been in class today because she'd had a fight with Finstad? Or was Phebe totally wrong about Wera having an affair with their teacher?
She was jogging up a marble staircase when Xélan Poudlard, a seventh-year Gryffindor, stopped her.
"Oh, hi!" he said.
"Hi, Xélan, I'm in a hurry," Phebe said, out of breath.
"Tell me about the Home Economagics homework we had," said Phebe's French classmate. He lifted his right hand and patted his unruly, curly light-brown hair down.
"I'll tell you later, I really have to go now!" Phebe excused herself and took off.
The Ravenclaw dorm Wera and Phebe shared was empty. Then Phebe heard a sound from the primitive bathroom that was joined to the dorm by means of an ugly dark-wood door. Dropping her books, Phebe tried to open the door. It was locked.
"Alohomora!" said Phebe, flicking her wand at the barrier and thinking how very convenient it was to be a witch sometimes. She threw the door open.
Wera sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. The sleeves of her black robes were soaked from mopping up her tears. In her right hand, Wera clutched her wand. A crumpled pied of paper that looked as though it had been torn from a book was scrunched in her left hand.
Phebe kneeled down next to Wera, who dropped paper and wand and threw hr arms around her friend. As Wera cried on her should, Phebe found her eyes wandering over to the crinkly paper. What was it?
Phebe patted Wera softly on her back with her left hand. She reached out for the paper with her right. Phebe inhaled sharply when she realized what it was.
"My god, Wera!" Phebe choked with genuine shock. Wera let go of Phebe and leaned back against the wall, tears running down her cheeks. Phebe held the wrinkled scrap of paper into Wera's face. "Where did you get this?" she demanded.
Phebe had only the slightest idea about how her friend had gotten her hands on a copy of the Suicidius Curse. The only two copies in Hogwarts were in the restricted section of the library and in a master's spell book in Dumbledore's office. It was out of question that Wera had snitched the one out from under Dumbledore's nose but it was certainly possible that Wera had obtained it from the library. Wera was a real artist, excellent at faking handwriting and signatures. She had probably forged a teacher's permit to get into the restricted section.
"I can't believe it," Phebe shook her head. "You should have said something, I would have listened! You know I would have listened!"
"I couldn't," croaked Wera. "I tried but I couldn't – leave all this." She gestured around weakly.
"Let me get you some tissues," said Phebe, getting up and going into the dorm room, still holding the scrap of paper in her hand. She went over to her trunk. Smoothing the Suicidius Curse and folding it into a tiny jagged-edged square, Phebe tucked it in between some folded clothes. She picked up a box of tissues and returned to the bathroom.
* * *
"Uh-oh," said Draco.
"Hmm," hummed Cerise. Draco walked down the Slytherin common room staircase and joined Cerise in front of the fire. "What is it?" she asked.
"You knew my mother got remarried," stated Draco.
"Yes," said Cerise patiently.
"And I did tell you she was pregnant, right?" continued Draco.
"No," said Cerise. She had known that Draco's mother had gotten married again, a year and a half after Lucius Malfoy's death. However, it was new to her that Draco had a sibling underway.
"It must have slipped my mind," the blond Slytherin said and waved a roll of parchment in front of Cerise's nose.
"For nine consecutive months?" asked Cerise with a hint of sarcasm.
"Anyway, it's a boy," Draco ignored her remark.
She grabbed the parchment from him. "You would forget your own name if it wasn't tattooed on my –"
"His name is –" Draco interrupted her.
"Klepto?" read Cerise, laughing. "Klepto Malfoy Lecter? That kid is cursed from birth."
"Cerise, I .. I think I have .. a brother," Draco stammered, finally grasping the veracity of his situation.
"Reality bites," shrugged she, "I hope your brother does not."
"I am no longer an only-child," rambled Draco.
"You'll get used to it," Cerise said unfeelingly. "Besides, it's not like you're going to live at home next year. You're moving out soon."
"Yes, but I have a brother," insisted Draco.
"A half-brother," Cerise corrected him. "Is there a picture of him?"
"Oh, yes," said Draco, peeling it out from between a few pages of parchment. "But it doesn't look right." They studied the picture in silence. "He's so .. red and wrinkly. I thought babies were supposed to be soft and pink.
"Not when they're .. fresh," Cerise attempted to explain. "Ooh!" she squealed, as the Klepto on the picture squinted his tiny eyes open. "His eyes are a cold and ruthless blue, just like yours!" She leaned in to kiss Draco.
"Ruthless?" Draco mused teasingly, pulling back.
"Well," said Cerise, shrugging. "It just slipped out."
"Hmm," Draco buzzed, in lip lock with his girlfriend.
"You know what," he said, tugging playfully at her hair. "I always thought the next Malfoy baby would be ours."
"What?" exclaimed Cerise indignantly. "No."
"No?" asked Draco disbelievingly. "No as in no, not now, or no as in no, not ever?"
"Not ever," stated Cherry.
"No kids?" Draco's pale blue eyes pleaded.
"None. Never." Cerise had definitely made up her mind.
"What if it's a Slytherin Heir?" he said hopefully. "The ultimately evil bundle of joy."
"No." Cerise crossed her arms. "I'm sixteen. I refuse to discuss this anymore. You can bring this up again when I'm twenty-five."
"But –" Draco started.
"Shh," Cherry shushed him and smothered his next comment with a passionate kiss.
* * *
"Look at this!" exclaimed Sabrina and waved a pale, ornate wand in Phebe's face. They were sitting in the Ravenclaw common room. Phebe was warming her feet at the fire and flipping through a brand new copy of TeenWitch. "Ten inches, white birch, with a core of diamond splinters. It's perfect for me!"
"What happened to your other one?" asked Phebe.
"Well, it's never been exactly ideal for me," Sabrina began. "First of all, it was not made for a lefty."
"Oh," said Phebe, remembering that Sabrina was left-handed. "That does give you a certain disadvantage, doesn't it?"
"Oh yes!" said Sabrina, relieved someone understood her problem. "In New York, I went to all sorts of really cool, small shops in the wizarding neighborhood. That's where I found a lefty wand store!" She studied her wand with proud scrutiny. "I really quite like this one."
"It suits you," agreed Phebe, taking the wand and examining it closely. "It's so light and graceful." She handed it back to Sabrina.
"Paradoxly, I found this in one of the darkest corners of Middlerthlyn. She smiled. Paradoxly? thought Phebe. What's that mean? Note to self: go look it up. "Not that the rest of the neighborhood isn't dark. Did you know that the Stuyvesant School of Magic is spread over ten stories?" Phebe shook her head. "And they're all underground."
"Sounds .. dark," said Phebe un-cleverly.
"Well, there was light, though it was artificial. It drove me quite insane," Sabrina confessed. "But there is no other place Middlerthlyn could be. The only space left in New York City is underground, beneath the subway tracks and stations. Come to think of it, the whole wizarding neighborhood is artificially lit."
"How depressing," said Phebe. An image of Wera telling her about her fight with Professor Finstad flashed into Phebe's mind. Now that was a truly disheartening moment.
"Hello-o?" quizzed Sabrina, snapping her fingers in Phebe's face to get her attention. "Anyone home?"
"Ye-yes," stuttered Phebe. "Sorry. It seems like I live in daydreams lately."
"That's so poetic!" cried Sabrina. "Sort of makes me want to quote that Muggle playwright, Shakesrum." She put the back of her left and gracefully to her forehead. "'True, I talk of dreams – Which are the children of an idle brain!'"
"Ahem," coughed Phebe, "I believe you meant Shakespeare."
"Oh, yes, beer, I knew it was something along the lines of that." Sabrina smiled.
"I'm glad you're back," said Phebe, hugging her friend.
"Me too!" Sabrina grinned again.
The portrait hole, that provided an entrance to the Ravenclaw common room, opened, and an awed-looking third year walked in. She was followed by young Potter.
"Thank you," Harry said to her. He walked over to Phebe and Sabrina. "Hello."
"Tisk, tisk," Phebe tisked. "You know the rules. No Gryffindors in the Ravenclaw common room."
"You have been making yourself exceedingly scarce on neutral territory," explained Harry self-righteously.
"You could at least have had the decency to tuck in your scarf," scolded Sabrina and pointed to the scarlet-and-gold-striped horror Harry had wrapped around his neck.
"I'd like to talk to you," Harry stated his mission. Phebe thought it sounded rehearsed.
"What about?" asked she casually, returning to her TeenWitch magazine. Harry coughed, eyeing Sabrina.
"I think I have to go now," sniffled Sabrina, feeling very unwelcome indeed. "Bye." She gave a slight wave and trudged up the dorm stairs.
Phebe frowned crossly. "That was very selfish of you," she told Harry. "Does it occur to you that this is my first full week together with Sabrina since she left four months ago?"
"It's important," protested Harry.
"Ok. Shoot," Phebe prompted him. She put down her magazine.
"Well," started Harry. "Actually I just wanted to spend some time with you."
"Aw," said Phebe, wondering why Sabrina had to leave in order for Harry to tell her this. "That's sweet of you."
"And I .." Harry paused. "Wanted to .." He paused again. "Ask you.."
"Yes?" sighed Phebe.
"Well, what are you planning to do after school?" Harry asked.
"I don't know yet," Phebe said honestly, "I never really plan my afternoons."
"I mean after school, after graduation," restated Harry.
"Whew. I hadn't really planned quite that far ahead yet." Phebe turned to face her boyfriend. "I really don't know. What about you?"
"College, probably. I want to study DADA and History of Magic. And Magical Law." Harry smiled nervously. "And maybe I want to get married." He slid his hand into his pocket. "Preferably to you." With that, he pulled a small jewelry box from his pocket and opened. A delicate white-gold ring set with a single glittering diamond sparkled up at Phebe.
"Wow," gasped Phebe, staring at the ring in a dumbstruck fashion.
"Phebe, Merry – Merry Christmas," Harry said. Phebe continued to stare at the ring, speechless. "Sorry it's not wrapped. Don't you like it?"
"It's .. it's beautiful," said Phebe admiringly, finally regaining power over her voice.
"Just like you," complimented Harry.
"Aw," said Phebe. Compliments always made her feel self-conscious. "Thank you so much .. for the ring." She carefully put it on and held her hand into the light to admire the sparkle. "It's perfect," she said, giving Harry a kiss.
"I thought you'd like it," Harry smiled.
"Harry," said Phebe, clearing her throat, "You may think that because you've just given me my Christmas present that you'll get yours too." Harry shook his head innocently. "You'll have to wait until Christmas."
"Darn," he said, "It was worth a try." He grinned at her. "Well, I have to go now. I have to go meet some people in the lounge."
"Ok," said Phebe. "Maybe I'll see you later."
Harry snuck back out of the Ravenclaw territory and Phebe went to her dorm to put away her magazine. Wera had been very busy during Phebe's absence.
"My goodness!" exclaimed Phebe. Although she was accustomed to using profanity to express such thoughts, she had opted not to because of Wera's "delicate" condition. However, Wera's self-pity had quickly given way to phase two: Anger.
Wera turned away from her desk, which she had covered with a temporary fire-proof charm, and dropped a burning letter onto it.
"Hello, my dear," she smiled and greeted Phebe placidly.
"What exactly are you doing?" asked a confused Phebe.
"Burning evidence, so to speak," replied Wera calmly. "Men," she sighed, "are assholes."
Phebe nodded and excused herself. She had the feeling Wera would appreciate some privacy, so she went across the hall to Sabrina's room. She found Cerise and Sabrina curling their hair.
"What are you getting all dressed up for?" asked Phebe.
"Nothing, really. But there is a committee meeting tonight," Sabrina said, releasing a strand of Cerise's hair she had wrapped around her wand. It bounced into a perfect curl. It really ruled to be magic sometimes. Phebe could not help noticing that there was a piece of paper taped to Cerise's back.
"Cherry, you've got something stuck to your back," Phebe pointed out and sat herself down on the floor. "A committee meeting? What kind of committee?"
"That's the formula for curling hair, silly," said Sabrina, pointing to the scrap she'd taped to Cerise. "You don't expect me to memorize all that, do you?"
"It's a new committee. The Elvish Culture Committee," said Cerise. She licked her thumb and turned the page of a Muggle fantasy novel she was reading. Phebe had the strangest feeling of deja-vu.
"We are planning to bring elvish culture to Hogwarts," smiled Sabrina, who claimed she was quarter elvin.
Phebe snickered. "Shouldn't you been on twenty-four hour duty now, it being Christmas and all?" she asked.
"Ha, ha," said Sabrina wryly. "You have us mixed up with Santa's Little Helpers. Elves are profoundly different. They're graceful and altogether divine. Contrary to popular Muggle legend, they do not fabricate presents year-round and they do not stand in a line and wrap them for naughty Muggle children all over the world." Sabrina paused. "No," she said triumphantly, "We have a higher calling."
"Oh," said Phebe. "Well now I know. So, Cherry, is that Muggle book the one about the ring-lord?"
"The Lord of the Rings," corrected Cerise, still engrossed in the novel.
"Exactly," Phebe said, "That's just what I meant. I think I saw Nima reading it, too."
"It's very amusing," said Cerise.
Sabrina set another flawless curl loose. "Speaking of rings, Phebe, what is this sparkling on your finger?" She pulled Phebe's left hand a little closer to examine the ring.
"Oh, that," Phebe grinned. "Christmas present from Harry. Flashy, huh?"
Cerise looked up from her book. "Glitzy." She nodded approvingly. "Are you guys engaged now?"
"What? No, not that I know of.." Phebe said. "And I think I would be the first to know. Do you think he thinks we're engaged?"
"What did he say?" asked Cerise.
"Merry Christmas," Phebe shrugged. "I wonder if he meant this to be an engagement ring?"
Sabrina curled another of Cerise's locks. "It's very nice."
"Thank you," Phebe said, getting up from the floor. Both her feet had fallen asleep. "I think I'll go to the library now."
"Bye," said Sabrina, continuing her earlier practice.
"Have fun at the meeting." Phebe winked. Cerise read her book.
* * *
Vanessa Roche and Izzy Mortimer were piled high with work at a table in the far corner of the library.
"Hello," Phebe said to them.
"Hi," said Van, glancing up from her papers. "How are you?"
"Fine. And yourself?"
"I'm surviving." Van sighed. "Sorry if I don't pay attention to you. I need to get this done."
"Ooh," exclaimed Izzy, grasping Phebe's wrist. "Do you have a new ring?" Izzy always noticed jewelry. "Can I try it on?" Without waiting for an answer, which was sure to be "yes" anyway, Izzy gently pulled it off of Phebe's finger. "It's nice," she said, admiring it on her own hand. "Where'd you get it?"
"Christmas present," Phebe explained.
"From Harry?" asked Van, who was not usually easily distracted. "Let me see." Phebe's little ring underwent another round of explicit scrutiny. "It is cute."
"Well, I don't want to divert you from your work," Phebe began. Izzy smiled and handed Phebe her ring back. "Later, girls."
In the hallway, Phebe met Janine Lowcan. She stopped for a chat with the Slytherin.
"Oh!" said Janine, "I like your ring!" Janine was a real jewelry fetishist compared to Izzy, who merely noticed. She took Phebe's hand and held it into the light. The small diamond twinkled happily. "Is it new?"
"Yep," said Phebe. "I think I'm going to the lounge now.
* * *
Ron was sitting in the secluded corner with Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Terry Mada, Jack McFelton, and Xelan Gattib when Harry trudged happily into the common lounge. He strode over to the group. Ron flashed him an 8-mile smile.
"Did she like it?" Ron asked his best friend.
"Oh yeah," grinned Harry, nodding. "What are you doing?" he queried, eyeing a clear bottle containing a clear liquid that was topped with a miniature red sombrero. Also on the table was a plateful of lemon slices and a pile of individually wrapped packages of salt. Several small glasses were clustered next to the bottle.
"We're playing Muggle Shots," explained Ron proudly.
"Yeah," said Terry eagerly. He was a total Muggle-game fanatic. "This is soo cool!" Gattib grinned and bobbed his head up and down in agreement.
"Can I play too?" asked Harry.
"Sure," said Ron, "Let's get started!"
* * *
Phebe walked into the seventh-year lounge, took a magazine off a rack by the door and joined Sage, Eavan and Bliefta by the fire. She collapsed into an empty armchair and greeted her friends with a nod.
"Hi," smiled Sage, looking up from a poem she was revising.
"Hi, Phebe," said Eavan, looking up at Phebe with her large, pale-blue eyes.
"Hello," Bliefta said formally. "If you are looking for Harry, I would suggest that you follow the sound of loud laughter in the corner."
"Huh?" asked Phebe. She squinted suspiciously at Ron & Co in the far corner. "What time is it?" asked she who never wore a watch, not even a Muggle one.
Bliefta pulled back his sleeve. "It is five o'clock." He smiled.
"I can't believe they're doing shots this early in the afternoon," Phebe exclaimed. She shook her head and opened the magazine.
"Shots?" asked Bliefta quizzically, shaping his hand like a Muggle gun.
"No," clarified Sage, making an obvious drinking gesture. "Shots."
* * *