Chapter Sixty-four

Araminta was repotting a Venomous Tentacula for Professor Sprout when the summons came. In a magically magnified voice, Professor McGonagall said, "Araminta Malpot, please report to the headmaster's office immediately. I repeat, Araminta Malpot, please report to the headmaster's office immediately. If anyone sees Miss Malpot, they should inform her of this announcement. That is all."

Professor Sprout wended her way between the students and stopped next to Araminta. "That's you, then." She began brushing dirt off of Araminta's sleeve. "I know they said immediately, but be sure to stop long enough to use Scourgify, dear."

Araminta left the Venomous Tentacula in Neville's capable hands and ran back to the castle, using her wand to clean herself up as she went. It wouldn't be good to appear dirty before the headmaster.

"Mountain Dew," she said, but the gargoyle didn't move. "Oh, darn it. That's not the password until the future." Araminta wracked her brain for possible alternatives. "Lemonade? Kool-Aid? Snapple? Orange juice? Sunny Delight? Irn Bru? Mello Yello?"

The stone gargoyle moved aside at last and allowed Araminta to pass up the stairs. She climbed them slowly, drawing out every step to make the time stretch. She wasn't quite sure if being called to the headmaster's office would be a good thing.

Finally, Araminta knocked softly, just once, on Dumbledore's office door. Maybe he wouldn't hear her, and then it would be a lie for her to say there had been no answer. Araminta twirled a clump of platinum blonde hair around one finger nervously. Just as she backed away, the door flew open with a bang.

"Araminta! Do come in." Albus Dumbledore flung his arms wide. "I thought I'd do something for my"--he lowered his voice to a whisper--"goddaughter"--he returned it to normal--"transfer student from Japan while she was here. Araminta, this is Madam Malkin."

Araminta smiled and shook hands with the pleasant-looking witch.

Dumbledore smoothed his beard and continued. "We've never had someone play for more than Quidditch team before, so we didn't have a uniform for that. Madam Malkin and Madam Hooch worked together to come up with something."

Madam Malkin stepped behind Dumbledore's desk and unrolled a scroll of parchment. "This is the design we came up with. Do you like it?"

"I love it!" Araminta smoothed her fingers over the lines of the design, amazed by its simplicity and beauty. "But, how are you going to make it in time? The Gryffindor-Slytherin match is today!"

"It's no problem for an experienced witch like me," Madam Malkin laughed. "Now, stand up on this stool so I can see how you're made."

"I think I'll leave you two to it, then." Albus Dumbledore winked and went out the door.

"Hold your arms out." Madam Malkin's magical measuring tape wound around her, taking measurements from her nape to her arm; of her chest, waist, and hips; and even measuring the exact location of her bellybutton piercing so that there would be no seams rubbing against it and making it irritated or infected.

Madam Malkin stepped back and said, "Close your eyes, please."

Araminta did, and she could tell from behind her eyelids that a bright light like a thousand suns had filled the room. She could feel the fabric of her robes stretching and changing, its texture mutating against her sensitive skin. It was unnerving, but Araminta knew it would be worth every second.

When she opened her eyes, Madam Malkin conjured a full-length mirror for her and Araminta moved so that she could see her full reflection. "It's incredible," she gasped.

The design hadn't done justice to the reality at hand. Her pants, which looked like riding breeches, were a soft cream color, and her boots and shin and arm guards were a matching shade. The outer cloak was a cream that shimmered when she moved, and the lining was a rich green to represent her Slytherin side. Around the collar, gold threads were embroidered in a pattern of tiny lions to represent Gryffindor.

There was a knock at the door and Dumbledore poked his head in. "Is it safe? Is everyone properly dressed?"

"Thank you!" Araminta flew into his arms, squeezing him in a bear hug. "And thank you, too, Madam Malkin," she added over her shoulder as an afterthought. "I feel like a princess."

Dumbledore placed a hand benignly on her hair and patted her on the head. "You are. Now hurry down to the Quidditch pitch. I imagine they're waiting for you--time to talk strategy, I'm sure."

Araminta flew like the wind.