But, in all honesty, I really think I've found my thread again, and the next ones shouldn't take so long. If they do, it's because this semester I have to take the hardest course in my school (as acknowledged even by upperclassmen), and there shall be a lot of homework.
Warning: sexual matters. PG-13
Warning the Second: Qudditch match coming up in chapter twenty-three.
Thanks to all reviewers.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Why Not to Go A-Roaming A'Night
18 April
I like that the Eilies are working very well and just the way I intended them to. I like that Remus is teaching here again. I like that Ron has been acting in some manner vaguely resembling a human being. I like that a Death Eater was arrested recently.
I like that Viktor has completely ignored me since the Daily Prophet article around Christmas. I like that Harry and Ginny are currently having what looks to be an engaged and promising conversation.
I like that Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw to the ground. Even if it was only a practise match. Somehow I am extremely, extremely pleased with that tidbit.
The captains - Alicia and Cho - agreed to it. It sort of takes away the advantage of surprising the other team with strategies and tactics (what, exactly, is the difference between them?) and such, but then again it nullifies it on both sides, so they remain about equal.
Of course, the team that benefits from an advantage is the one that loses, because then they are aware of what not to do during the real game. And, unfortunately, we were far from the losing team - but didn't we destroy them! Our Chasers scored about two gazillion points (which is a Hermione-ish way of saying that I don't know the precise score but that we had quite a lot, thank you, obviously), and even though Harry seemed a little nervous he caught the Snitch. It was brilliantly exciting for all that, though, as… yes, we admit… behind closed doors… that Ravenclaw has very good Beaters and Cho isn't a bad flyer, either.
It's so nice to think of something as lighthearted as Quidditch. For ages past (not literally, but it's such a lovely phrase to use) I've regarded Quidditch outside of Gryffindor (and Viktor, I suppose) as something not really worth the time, let alone the spilled blood. But I thank the heavens for it now, because during Quidditch Dark Lords have no place.
Note to self: If ever abducted by You-Know-Who, repeat this thought.
But not everything is Quaffles and broomsticks, however. To be sure, a man named Nott (Cassandra Nott's father or uncle, I believe… I prefer to think uncle, because even she does not deserve him as a father, whatever else she might) was arrested with charges of Death Eater activity… and a newspaper (not the Prophet but a smaller one called the Weekly Yell, which is a ridiculous name but has decent reporting) repeated Nott's words of: "I have always been the most faithful wizard in Britain to the Ministry of Magic."
Harry read this bit and snickered.
"Getting cynical, aren't you?" I queried, a little cynically myself - Chelsea, for one, has that effect - but also with some worry. Harry looks so much older as of late. The growth spurt has gone over physically but mentally he's growing rather too fast.
"Not cynical. Amused."
"Amusement at something of this nature is cynicism," I insisted.
"There's no point in arguing with you."
And we weren't arguing. We're friends again and will stay that way. It was not an argument.
There is no point in arguing in anyone anyway. I've found this much out since meeting Professor Zambia and thank some good fairy (er - just an expression) waiting over my cradle at birth for the fortune of everyone in my Defence class not objecting to Remus. Because what little I've seen of Zambia is quite… disturbing.
This said, I will not deny the satisfaction in knowing that nearly all the Slytherins have her. A pity most goes for the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, as well. The Ravenclaws really don't care about such a trifling matter as lycanthropy so long as it doesn't interfere with education, I suppose. But the fact remains that Slytherin is the House holding the majority percent of students suffering… er, learning… under Zambia.
"Tell me," demanded Katie Bell before the Quidditch game, as they were trying to calm their nerves… and somehow decided that discussing Grace Zambia was the remedy for nerves. "How exactly did this… woman… decide to become a teacher? Did she just have a dream one night years ago? Woke up - 'oh, I'm going to trot over Hoggy-Woggy-'Ogwarts and ask dear old Dumbledore for a post?'"
"She tried to settle herself over at St Mungo's but when they found her torturing the patients she decided to go into the education field," shouted a passing Ravenclaw girl who probably has the misfortune to be in the one Ravenclaw class with Zambia. "She figures when one does it at a school then it's considered toughening up the kids for later life."
"And, damn it, she's right!" growled Fred. "Dumbledore must've been mad to keep her the first time and crazier to keep her now."
"I don't know about the first time," said Alicia soothingly, "but now she's the only one. Almost no one takes the Defence post - and if they forced students to have big bad scary Lupin the Ministry could probably shut the school down. Can't have such a threat around Hogwarts. Death Eaters, yes; Snape, sure, he probably provides the entire Ministry with truth serums; lunatics - in the insanity sort of way - oh, certainly, and Zambia? Hey, why not, she just had a rough childhood."
Giggles.
"I've no pity. Sorry." Sara rolled her eyes, for once devoid of her unfailing optimism.
"Hey, no complaining!" George said. "You don't have her."
Sara got on her knees and clasped her hands heavenward. "No, but I have detention with her tomorrow."
I don't know when Zambia has time to think of teaching. Although she has - what is it, half of the school? - she gives out more detentions than Snape and McGonagall. Not Snape and McGonagall combined - but each on their own two feet, yes.
No, I'm not bitter because I got one at all. In fact, I shall conspicuously not mention it at all, because everyone knows that a detention from her is complete bogus. Yes, steam is still shooting from my ears, but that's a minor detail. I'm trying to remember the things that are happy.
… Can't remember them now. Ah, pessimists rush in.
Apart from the Zambia end of bad things, some things are decidedly negative for Remus. Although at least we got a laugh out of one of some of the rather nasty things on that front from some people who apparently don't have enough homework. One of the welcome-backs revealed itself during the corridors. Chelsea Smythe and I - as I'm still "out" with Harry and Ron we stick together a good deal, and it doesn't hurt to elude the Society when you consider she's a Slytherin - were going down to Potions and passing through the Defence corridor. There was a line of Gryffindor students going in the opposite direction, and it was crowded with a few Slytherins and Ravenclaws fourth-years going to their next class as well. I nodded to Remus and had walked on when I heard a stomped foot. Apparently that was Remus's version of a cry of pain. Chelsea and I turned to see what had happened (it was a really hard stomped foot, and a loud one, which is saying something in such a crowded corridor).
The door handle had been transfigurated silver. Which was bad enough. But at this juncture jet streams of liquid silver started streaming out from various pores - set off, apparently, but the doorknob. Obviously a strong message for Remus, but I will say this: it was none too intelligent and missed its mark. Do you know how much silver that's so hot it's liquid is for people who aren't werewolves? I've been healed, but I have a very lovely scar on my arm from it.
But I admired how Lupin handled the situation. Before anything else, the burns and such were healed, and he told us to wait a moment and he'd give us passes to his next class. First he said this much, in a low tone that made me worried even though I knew of my innocence, that this stunt was one of the most foolish things he had ever seen, that the endangerment to others was a terribly high price to pay for whatever goal the vandaliser(s) had in mind, and that no matter how fierce an opinion, taking them to this level with blatant disregard for harm befalling innocent bystanders was the prime reason Hogwarts School was under the Order of the Phoenix, the prime reason people had been deprived of family and loved ones in the wizarding world during the past thirty years.
And after this speech, he added seriously: "The culprits might be interested in knowing that after they've served a detention and thought over this for a rather long night performing manual cleaning, I'm thinking of awarding their House five points for creativity…"
For an instant I was open-mouthed with shock. Tongue-in-cheek and composure are all very well, but something of this magnitude could have really hurt someone!
But almost as instantly, there was an exclamation of shock from somewhere in the room. I couldn't figure out who, but Remus's eyes traveled there. "… and for the maturity to own up to the wrongdoing. Or perhaps that should be ten points?" He looked away again quite quickly, and no one seems to know quite who was behind it, but after this no more nasty tricks on him have been pulled. So it was a cleverer way to deal with it that I would've ever imagined.
Ron laughed when I told him the story - very hard, I might add. I hadn't thought he would quite understand it… and considering just how excessively amused he was, perhaps he doesn't… but apparently he thought it was brilliant. We had to cut off at that point quickly, because someone was invading the corridor we had hidden in to talk. It's a real pity I have to talk with Ron - and Harry of course - in private. Because Ron's beginning to be a nice conversationalist. "Nice", blah. There's an understatement. He's got all this potential welling up in him, which is sort of odd to say, because we're the same age and so I sound rather superior, but he… does.
Enough. One day I'm going to lose it and go on and on about him and be incredibly ashamed of it afterwards.
Anyway, that's one Weasley I'm getting on with. I don't know how to deal with Ginny. We haven't spoken since… well… her little entry. She is, however, speaking with Harry at the moment. I'm sure she considers that a nice trade.
Oh, my. Did I really say something quite that nasty? Why is Ginny bothering me so? Even when we were friendly, I never really thought of her overmuch. Only now when we're unfriendly does she really begin to make any impression on me. Sad state of affairs but true.
20 April
I really shouldn't be taking the time to write, as there is a ton of work to be done as all the teachers go crazy with O.W.L. prep - I'm trying to organise everything into a list and squeeze them in at the best times, which means Trans. essay now at lunch, finish the Charms during the five minutes between classes, do my Defence assign. on Ward Spells gone wrong after Charms before it gets dark so I don't have nightmares, and then the Potions ingredients register before I get too sleepy, because that's just chock-ful of intricacies, and then Herbology sketches at around nine thirty if my hand isn't shaking too much, tomorrow at five thirty in the morning if so… Merlin! I forgot all about Astronomy tonight! - anyhow, I shouldn't be wasting time writing this out so longhandishedly.
Today in Transfig (I can eliminate so many letters by not using the "uration") there was a newspaper on McGonagall's desk, and it was open to near the back, and one of the articles was circled; I saw that as I came in but didn't want to look at it… that would've just been… anyhow, she did look at it and went pretty pale and was sober. I mean, she's always serious. But it was a sort of tense strain you could really feel all during class. I don't think I was imagining things. I quit imagining things when a big brown owl swooped into my room at eleven years old with a letter accepting me to a magical school I never heard of.
I'm so worried. Has someone died connected to Hogwarts or Dumbledore's little network? A huge attack somewhere? Some stupid Ministry move? What's happened?
All right. All right. Trans… no, Charms. I have Charms sooner than I have Transfig. Right.
23 April
Someone bless Molly Weasley. I forgot all about my Easter chocolate and had it buried under Crookshanks's pillow, but today I found it and discovered the box was charmed. It's good as ever and the only thing I've eaten all day.
This homework is really getting out of hand.
I found out what McGonagall was so upset about. The Hibilitians have joined his side. At first I was really relieved, in a is that all? sort of way, but after I thought about it I realised the magnitude of that. Viktor had said - I think I probably even recorded it right here in this diary - that "Hibilitians have very strong magical powers, very different from ours", and I said something along the lines of: "I guess developing your own powers isolated for so many years can do that". They're one of three very distinctly different and powerful groups separated from the "regular" wizards in Europe. There's the Hibilitians, some Norshish sect with Babylonian adoration, the Refrudulaians right here in Britain, with their non-wand magic abilities, and the… I forget how it's spelled. The H'onou in Spain and Portugal. Considering his open love for such H'onouish things ("as there is no foolish wand-waving here, many of you will scarcely believe this is magic…"), I'd think Snape has H'onou ancestors. Not that I'm ready to ask, but that's where my money would be.
Anyway, now You-Know-Who has some very powerful allies. "Allies" - all right, rather laughable a word, but still. I really don't enjoy thinking how he'll treat them and anyone else who turned to him with no real knowledge of their actions.
April 26
I feel really bad for yelling at them. But they're, well, boys. They can't understand it and I sure don't want to talk to them about it until they understand.
And right now I just feel so completely exposed and vulnerable. Honestly. I'm in a hospital wing in a flimsy little hospital nightgown under flimsy little covers with the protection of the most pessimistic nurse ever to deign the face of this earth. My wand is in her custody and not anywhere near me. I'm a Muggle-born witch in a world of magic that can destroy people that is threatened by a madman who thinks the world owes him without a wand and without Snape's charm.
I'm not going to cry. That would just be the icing on the cake for tonight. I will not cry. What am I going to tell my parents? I can't mention it to them, but surely I can't not mention it?
All right, all right. I'll stop beating around the bush and rambling and get right down to it. I was almost raped tonight.
It was… I won't call them the Society for Purity. What a joke, a downright farce. The scariest thing is, though, that I don't know which one. He had me pinned to the floor and was breathing down my neck and I don't know who on earth he was!
I don't really need to be in the hospital wing. I do need to be locked up before I do something crazy. I feel so helpless. This wonderful and marvelous magic world has turned ugly and deadly and there's no way to halt it and I'm stuck here because leaving means that I just die later. We'll never win against someone like You-Know-Who - Voldemort. You can't destroy such an enemy. Yes, I've lost all faith.
It was in one of those nice prowly corridors in supposedly safe Ravenclaw territory. Ravenclaw really has the best corridors. The only light came from the candles, so there was some orange but not much, and I got to escape from the world and into a History of Magic lesson that really is fascinating once Binns stops trying to tell it.
And so there I was, thinking I was invincible, because I had a wand and a charm and phenomenal talent, and completely out of the orange-black comes another body that's immediately far too close to mine. There's arms around me, awkward and rough and unconsiderate, and a voice in my ear. The breath both tickles and hurts.
"Hello, Mudblood."
All I can see is black on the shoulder of his robes, and, at the very top of my vision, a bit of grey wall.
"If you insist on staying, then it's grand to see you tonight. Do you know what's going to happen?"
That voice, without words but in tones, tells me, and I start to squirm and struggle. He's taken my wand from my pocket and tossed it behind him. The charm? Trust me, I barely know what year it is. I'm not thinking about the charm and if it'll help me or not.
"I'm going to force you to do whatever I like."
I tried to knee him well, but he's got my legs pressed to the wall behind me as well, and I'm so panicky that I'm really not thinking straight nor strategically.
"And right now I'd like you down."
Somehow he pushes me to the floor. I kick him. He punches me so hard in the stomach I'm dazed. In all of this I can't see his face. I'm too scared to look at it, I guess because a face would make it real, while currently it seems a blessed nightmare. Then he's on top of me, bigger than me and undoubtedly stronger and able to keep me pinned to the floor.
"Clothes off," he says, almost cheerfully. I wish I could detect any insanity in his voice but can't. He just sounds pleased. The only thing I know is that it's not Draco Malfoy. Don't know how, but I just know it isn't him.
I twist and prevent him from getting anything off very effectively. He rips my sleeve by accident and then, angry, makes a huge rip on the bottom skirtish part of my robes on purpose.
"And then I'll make the Mudblood scream and cry and beg for one more chance to leave, and oh, she'll have it, but not after I mold her into any shape I want and make her do what I want. Oh no. Yep."
I was seized by some coldly calm force beyond me, rather than terrified. I spat - probably hit him, although not as squarely in the face as I liked, and then let loose an expression. I'm shocked I said it. My mother would not approve.
And he responds just as kindly, and then, to show me just what he can do, I guess, he manages to reach and shoves his hand around a place where… well, a place I'd rather not have him in. But then I feel something warm on my chest, and he yelps. The charm had burnt him - I could tell it was the charm; I could feel it heating up nicely.
Unfortunately, he was close enough to feel it, too, and pulled it out, holding it up by a piece of the chain above me. "So this - this is why we could never hurt you!"
I think they managed to hurt me plenty, charm or no charm, but of course I would never say as much. He pulled it roughly over my head and tucked it in his pocket.
But he had straightened to put it in there, and now my torso and upward was freed, and with that I lunged and gave him a good enough shove that he hit his head nice and hard on the stone floor, and I snatched my wand and shouted several curses which started ricocheting off the walls. I ran without further ado, and smack into Sinistra, who took one look at me and took me to the hospital wing. I guess I should be thankful she didn't ask any stupid questions - ones there was no way I could answer. And Madam Pomfrey didn't say much, at least not to me, just got me cleaned and in a bed with hot food before… I'm out of metaphors.
27 April
So I'm back in classes. Madam Pomfrey said I didn't have to go back until I felt ready. I was ready. I didn't have my homework completely set, but I wasn't hiding. And I sure don't enjoy the feeling of knowing someone in the castle almost succeeded in forcing me, but at least I'm not holding my head down and cowering at some unknown enemy.
The boys know. How is something I'll never understand. Someone must've told them. And I'm avoiding them. Not "the boys" in general - I mean Ron and Harry, of course. It's easy enough to dodge them because we're still supposed to be fighting, although that charade doesn't seem to be fooling them and is rather useless at this point. But… I don't know. I feel as if I really need a hug, and as they're plainly telling me without words that I have one if I ask for it, I have a feeling I won't be able to resist them too long.
Luckily my roommates are clueless, nosey as they generally are: they have O.W.L.s to worry about, too, and none are as prepared as I am. And much as I don't want to discuss this, someone has to bring it up with the Eilies. I mean, it may happen to someone else. Or maybe already has. But I'm going to talk to one of the most trusted of the boys - Justin Finch-Fletchey, maybe, sensible but not so close that I need to remember this conversation every single day when I see him - and we'll draw up a gameplan and separate the boys and the girls. I trust my Eilies with my secrets and my life, but not with the belief of every one of them being mature enough to discuss sexual issues in co-ed groups. In fact, in that matter, I'm not even sure I trust myself.
28 April
McGonagall told me after class today that Dumbledore wanted to see me in his office and that the password was "Billywigs". He's been away the whole week, and I knew what this talk was about. I dreaded it all day, and I'm not sure if this was a direct result or not, but I was violently sick on my way to the last class of the day and grateful for it.
And I'm in almost total shock that I'd rather be stuck in the hospital wing nibbling on cold and dry toast rather than talking with Dumbledore. I've never sought to avoid him before. But in a maddening sort of way… I don't know. Those twinkling/serious blue eyes and that logic that seems so reasonable so long as you're safely within the same room as him…
I guess I know that once I'm in there he's going to manage to talk me out of my almost apathetic bitterness as of late, and I'm reveling too much in it. I don't want any comfort - even less than I want a scolding about wandering deserted corridors in such charged times.
28 April, later
Of course, that doesn't really stop Dumbledore. He just comes down here. I pretend to be asleep. Madam Pomfrey says I am under a lot of trauma and if I am disturbed the culprit shall be very sorry indeed. I revise my opinion of Mm Pomfrey to a much more favourable light. Dumbledore talks anyway. I then feel extremely bad for avoiding him. Which, of course, was probably at least a quarter of his intent.
But that's the funny thing about pretending to be asleep, because you wind up all but being asleep in the end. Good things never come to eavesdroppers, but that's mainly because it's so difficult to pull off a good eavesdrop. I do remember some phrases:
Dumbledore: "It's a sad day indeed when such affairs start happening inside of the school."
Pomfrey: "Yes… even Sammy Orr's murder was in Hogsmeade."
(Sammy Orr's murder?)
Dumbledore: "It's all too close. I don't know what they have that avoids my eye so often."
Hermione: (dozes off some and misses next few parts)
Dumbledore: "… detectors say all three Unforgivable Curses have been performed. Within these walls."
The tone conveyed in those last three words - "within these walls" - is untransferrable to paper and ink. So heavy, and sad, and with this underlying anger toward them and even himself and almost at the world in general. Almost world-weary, but not. Almost challenging, yet not. Just all unmistakably Dumbledore.
But at least I didn't have to speak with him, and he hasn't tried since. Part of me wants him to force me to sit down and look at him while he has his say, but the bigger part of me does not.
I'm probably going to be let out of the hospital wing tomorrow. Astronomy that night, and a chance to talk with Justin.
30 April
The Eilies had our talk. One of the Ravenclaw girls had a similar encounter, and (they did this in a roundabout way) one of the Hufflepuff boys told Terry Boot who told one of the Feth brothers who told the other brother who told Dean who told Justin who told me, rather red-faced, that two of the Purity boys had pinned the Hufflepuff and had what one of the aforementioned Feth brothers called a "Feel Free Friday", along with a threat to do much more (the Feths have a term for that I refuse to repeat) if the Hufflepuff didn't give them names of the Eilies by a certain point.
I shrugged. "Tell him to give the names." They would find out, we weren't ashamed and hadn't much in way of hiding, and I didn't want one of the boys who had accepted me as a leader by risking joining the Eilies to go through something like that. I had said I would help protect them, right?
Justin had to belabour the point. I don't think he gets it, and I can't explain it to him in two-syllable words. Our secrecy isn't so important as our safety. "They're, like, the same thing!" No, they're not! We're not going to show weakness by being too scared to own up to our own fight!
"You're sounding like a very jumped-up rights activist," he said, trying to toss in some humour, and I snapped back,
"I am!"
I think he was a bit unnerved, maybe a little hurt at my tone. And I'm sorry, but not quite so sorry that I'm going to go apologise.
And thus ends today's dose of the Wartime Eily-Sponsored Sex Education. Insert bow and dramatic flourish here.
TBC
