centerChapter 7 – Luna/center
Rachel and Liz didn't go to anymore of the team's practices, but they could tell by the way Michael slumped in, exhausted, almost every night that Celeste was working them hard. Liz even took to helping Michael (and Rachel: she listened closely) with his homework, something firmly against her principles.
Class work for all the first-years was building up, too. Several nights, even on the weekend, Liz had to stay up late to finish an essay, report, or chart.
During one such homework load, Liz sat in her dormitory, exhausted. She still had to finish an essay for Professor Longbottom about plants that healed Ever-Growing Scabs. IMaybe I'll just take a quick nap,/I she thought. She had almost dozed off when a tapping sound came at her window. In a daze, she got up and opened it. An owl, a larger version of her own Luna, it seemed, fluttered in bearing a letter. Liz took it and opened it.
Dear Elizabeth,
How is school this year? It's your first year. I remember my first year. It was your father's second year. Something started attacking students and Petrifying them. It even Petrified a cat and a ghost! But your father saved us all from the danger.
I didn't have any friends my first year. I hope you have friends, Elizabeth. As I learned after I met Harry, friends are the best things to possess.
Until I write again,
Your mother,
Luna
Liz took a breath, and then another. Each one took great effort. Her mother had sent her a letter. Her mother was alive. Wasn't she?
But she couldn't be. McGonagall had said she was gone. Her father had seen her with his own eyes. But her father was dead, too, wasn't he? He hadn't told anyone. Maybe they assumed. Maybe she was alive. There was still hope. But maybe she shouldn't tell anyone yet. They'd think she had gone mad.
With a heavy sigh, she folded up the letter, stuck it in her trunk, and watched the snowy owl fly back out through the window.
By Halloween, Cynthia's disappearance was no longer the chief topic of conversation, but it was still regarded with a certain terror, as she hadn't been found yet.
On Halloween, pumpkins that could barely fit through the doors of the Great Hall were set at each end of each table. By night, the whole Great Hall was transformed into a Halloween haven, and the students came in, in wonder of their surroundings, prepared for the almost legendary Hogwarts Halloween feast.
"I hear it's amazing," Michael said. "They even have real bat wings!"
Liz made a face. "To eat?"
"Of course! It's a delicacy."
"Not my favorite either," Rachel told Liz quietly.
Liz lapsed into silence as they entered the Great Hall. She was thinking about the letter. It had to be. Her mother had to be alive. It talked about the fact that it was her first year, so it had to be written this year. It had to. Her mother was alive. Liz was certain of it. She had to tell someone. How could it be that her mother was alive? This whole thing was driving her insane! Who could she tell? Someone who would believe her, obviously. Which meant...nobody. Nobody would believe her.
It had become a custom for the teachers to count heads at every meal. As Professor McGonagall passed over their heads, Michael brought up the subject of Cynthia's disappearance. "I can't believe they haven't found her yet."
"I know. It's starting to get scary," Rachel agreed.
Liz kept silent, but she knew she agreed.
Michael's mother gasped and whispered something hurriedly to the headmistress. Professor McGonagall gave her a fervent look and rushed to the Hufflepuff table to recount heads, and Professor Weasley proceeded to the last uncounted table, Slytherin. Nobody seemed to notice except Liz, Rachel, and Michael.
"What do you think is the matter?" Michael muttered to the both of them.
"I don't know," Rachel whimpered. Liz knew what she thought was the matter, only it couldn't be. That would be just too horrible.
Her fears were confirmed, however, when McGonagall took the platform and announced, "Has anyone seen Becky Miller today?"
A Hufflepuff raised her hand. "I saw her right after lunch, but not after that."
"It's as I feared," Professor McGonagall said. "Prefects, search for Becky Miller. And—yes, Professor Weasley?"
Mrs. Weasley muttered something in a low voice to Professor McGonagall, who paled even more. "H—has anyone seen Adam Hobbs?"
Heads turned toward the Slytherin table. No one moved.
"Then, prefects, send out searches for Becky Miller and Adam Hobbs. That is all."
A great buzzing swept through the Great Hall as everyone began to talk fearfully.
"More disappearances?" Rachel said loudly. "This is too much."
"And it's a double disappearance," Michael said.
"How awful!" Liz agreed. "I wish they'd hurry up and find them."
Panic ensued throughout the next week. Nobody walked the halls alone, and nobody went up to their dormitory unless someone else was up there also. The common room was always packed until midnight, and only then would people begin to drift upstairs. At the beginning of every meal, everyone waited breathlessly for McGonagall to announce something, only to be disappointed every time.
"We have a Potions exam today," Michael grumbled one morning.
"Since when?" Rachel cried, panicking.
"Since yesterday," Michael answered. "You were sick."
"Do you think he'd let me wait?" Rachel whimpered.
Michael snorted. "Knowing Snape, no."
Liz grinned. "I don't see why you two are so worried. Potions is easy."
Rachel dropped her book when it was halfway out of her bag. Michael's eyes widened. "Easy?" Rachel repeated. "Did I hear you right? You said easy?"
"Yes, easy," Liz repeated. "Facile. Not difficult."
"Well, yeah, for you," Michael said, going back to studying. "Everything is easy for you."
"Not everything," Liz said.
"Oh, really? What aren't you good at?"
"Flying."
Michael's eyes dropped back to his book. "Oh."
The three of them studied until students began to file out the door. Liz, reluctantly followed by Rachel and Michael, headed toward Potions.
They entered last. All the Slytherins and the rest of the Gryffindors had already arrived. Snape eyed them testily.
"You are very lucky," he sneered, "that you are not late. If you were, I would be forced to take ten points from Gryffindor. Consequently, five points from Gryffindor."
All the Gryffindors stared in disbelief. Liz could feel Michael clenching and unclenching his fists beside her. How could Snape be so unfair?
"Everyone find their cauldrons," Snape snapped. "I've rearranged them so everyone isn't next to their best friend." He leered at all of them in turn as they scrambled to follow his instructions. Liz found, much to her dismay, that Snape had placed her next to Winnie Chen. Apparently, Snape didn't care if everyone knew he favored his House, for all the Slytherins seemed to be next to their best friends.
"You may begin. Please brew a Thirst Potion."
Liz worked hard on her potion. She remembered every little ingredient and measurement. But not everyone was doing as well as she was. Rachel kept spilling extra ingredients into hers, while Michael accidentally tipped his cauldron over, spilling most of his potion on the floor.
Snape only gave them an hour, and by that time, Liz's potion was simmering perfectly. There was no way Snape could possibly criticize it now.
Just as Snape stood up to end the exam, Winnie shoved Liz, who had been holding a container of a rather smelly fluid. The bottle flew out of Liz's hand and into her potion, which exploded. Globs of it hit the wall, some of the students, and Snape himself, right on his large nose. It instantly broke out in huge boils.
With a wave of his wand, Snape cleared up the mess and everyone's large welts. "Elizabeth Potter, I'm afraid to say that you have failed this exam."
Winnie grinned and Liz seethed. She hated Winnie and Snape with a passion; that was for certain. As the class filed out, Rachel tried to comfort Liz with, "Don't worry, Snape's a git," but Snape heard her and called after them, "Miss, Yates, that will be a further five points from Gryffindor." Rachel made a face.
In late November, fall seemed to be waiting impatiently for winter. Leaves layered the ground, but the weather was only mildly cold. Many of the first- years began planning snowball fights for when the snow finally decided to show up.
Rachel, Michael, and the other Gryffindor first-years were planning one such activity one morning at breakfast, but Liz didn't feel like joining. She enjoyed warm weather the most. Her mind was on her mother's letter, anyway. It had been a little over a month since she had received it, and was eager for another.
As if on cue, the same snowy owl fluttered in and landed next to Liz as the mail arrived. Rachel noticed. "Liz, what have you been feeding Luna?"
"It isn't Luna," Liz replied, removing the letter from the owl's leg. It hooted happily and soared off. Liz ripped the envelope open and began to read.
Dear Elizabeth, Hello. How are you? I hope you are well. I know I am. Do you have a favorite teacher yet? A least favorite? I had both. My favorite was Professor Flitwick. He was very kind to me, and he was Head of Ravenclaw. My least favorite was Professor Snape. He wasn't nice at all, not a bit like Professor Flitwick. But I know, as mean as he was to me, he was a lot worse to your father. I wonder if he's still teaching. If he is, is he all right to you? If he's not all right to you, just remember that he was probably worse to your father. I must go now. Goodbye.
Luna
Liz drew a shaky breath. Rachel tried to look at the letter, but Liz quickly stuffed it into her bag. Michael wasn't paying attention; he was talking with John about the correct methods of building a snow fort. "What was that?" Rachel inquired.
"A letter," Liz told her evasively. Rachel sighed and looked away. Liz took the letter out one more time, read it through, and put it back. No one, not even her best friends, would believe her.
Rachel and Liz didn't go to anymore of the team's practices, but they could tell by the way Michael slumped in, exhausted, almost every night that Celeste was working them hard. Liz even took to helping Michael (and Rachel: she listened closely) with his homework, something firmly against her principles.
Class work for all the first-years was building up, too. Several nights, even on the weekend, Liz had to stay up late to finish an essay, report, or chart.
During one such homework load, Liz sat in her dormitory, exhausted. She still had to finish an essay for Professor Longbottom about plants that healed Ever-Growing Scabs. IMaybe I'll just take a quick nap,/I she thought. She had almost dozed off when a tapping sound came at her window. In a daze, she got up and opened it. An owl, a larger version of her own Luna, it seemed, fluttered in bearing a letter. Liz took it and opened it.
Dear Elizabeth,
How is school this year? It's your first year. I remember my first year. It was your father's second year. Something started attacking students and Petrifying them. It even Petrified a cat and a ghost! But your father saved us all from the danger.
I didn't have any friends my first year. I hope you have friends, Elizabeth. As I learned after I met Harry, friends are the best things to possess.
Until I write again,
Your mother,
Luna
Liz took a breath, and then another. Each one took great effort. Her mother had sent her a letter. Her mother was alive. Wasn't she?
But she couldn't be. McGonagall had said she was gone. Her father had seen her with his own eyes. But her father was dead, too, wasn't he? He hadn't told anyone. Maybe they assumed. Maybe she was alive. There was still hope. But maybe she shouldn't tell anyone yet. They'd think she had gone mad.
With a heavy sigh, she folded up the letter, stuck it in her trunk, and watched the snowy owl fly back out through the window.
By Halloween, Cynthia's disappearance was no longer the chief topic of conversation, but it was still regarded with a certain terror, as she hadn't been found yet.
On Halloween, pumpkins that could barely fit through the doors of the Great Hall were set at each end of each table. By night, the whole Great Hall was transformed into a Halloween haven, and the students came in, in wonder of their surroundings, prepared for the almost legendary Hogwarts Halloween feast.
"I hear it's amazing," Michael said. "They even have real bat wings!"
Liz made a face. "To eat?"
"Of course! It's a delicacy."
"Not my favorite either," Rachel told Liz quietly.
Liz lapsed into silence as they entered the Great Hall. She was thinking about the letter. It had to be. Her mother had to be alive. It talked about the fact that it was her first year, so it had to be written this year. It had to. Her mother was alive. Liz was certain of it. She had to tell someone. How could it be that her mother was alive? This whole thing was driving her insane! Who could she tell? Someone who would believe her, obviously. Which meant...nobody. Nobody would believe her.
It had become a custom for the teachers to count heads at every meal. As Professor McGonagall passed over their heads, Michael brought up the subject of Cynthia's disappearance. "I can't believe they haven't found her yet."
"I know. It's starting to get scary," Rachel agreed.
Liz kept silent, but she knew she agreed.
Michael's mother gasped and whispered something hurriedly to the headmistress. Professor McGonagall gave her a fervent look and rushed to the Hufflepuff table to recount heads, and Professor Weasley proceeded to the last uncounted table, Slytherin. Nobody seemed to notice except Liz, Rachel, and Michael.
"What do you think is the matter?" Michael muttered to the both of them.
"I don't know," Rachel whimpered. Liz knew what she thought was the matter, only it couldn't be. That would be just too horrible.
Her fears were confirmed, however, when McGonagall took the platform and announced, "Has anyone seen Becky Miller today?"
A Hufflepuff raised her hand. "I saw her right after lunch, but not after that."
"It's as I feared," Professor McGonagall said. "Prefects, search for Becky Miller. And—yes, Professor Weasley?"
Mrs. Weasley muttered something in a low voice to Professor McGonagall, who paled even more. "H—has anyone seen Adam Hobbs?"
Heads turned toward the Slytherin table. No one moved.
"Then, prefects, send out searches for Becky Miller and Adam Hobbs. That is all."
A great buzzing swept through the Great Hall as everyone began to talk fearfully.
"More disappearances?" Rachel said loudly. "This is too much."
"And it's a double disappearance," Michael said.
"How awful!" Liz agreed. "I wish they'd hurry up and find them."
Panic ensued throughout the next week. Nobody walked the halls alone, and nobody went up to their dormitory unless someone else was up there also. The common room was always packed until midnight, and only then would people begin to drift upstairs. At the beginning of every meal, everyone waited breathlessly for McGonagall to announce something, only to be disappointed every time.
"We have a Potions exam today," Michael grumbled one morning.
"Since when?" Rachel cried, panicking.
"Since yesterday," Michael answered. "You were sick."
"Do you think he'd let me wait?" Rachel whimpered.
Michael snorted. "Knowing Snape, no."
Liz grinned. "I don't see why you two are so worried. Potions is easy."
Rachel dropped her book when it was halfway out of her bag. Michael's eyes widened. "Easy?" Rachel repeated. "Did I hear you right? You said easy?"
"Yes, easy," Liz repeated. "Facile. Not difficult."
"Well, yeah, for you," Michael said, going back to studying. "Everything is easy for you."
"Not everything," Liz said.
"Oh, really? What aren't you good at?"
"Flying."
Michael's eyes dropped back to his book. "Oh."
The three of them studied until students began to file out the door. Liz, reluctantly followed by Rachel and Michael, headed toward Potions.
They entered last. All the Slytherins and the rest of the Gryffindors had already arrived. Snape eyed them testily.
"You are very lucky," he sneered, "that you are not late. If you were, I would be forced to take ten points from Gryffindor. Consequently, five points from Gryffindor."
All the Gryffindors stared in disbelief. Liz could feel Michael clenching and unclenching his fists beside her. How could Snape be so unfair?
"Everyone find their cauldrons," Snape snapped. "I've rearranged them so everyone isn't next to their best friend." He leered at all of them in turn as they scrambled to follow his instructions. Liz found, much to her dismay, that Snape had placed her next to Winnie Chen. Apparently, Snape didn't care if everyone knew he favored his House, for all the Slytherins seemed to be next to their best friends.
"You may begin. Please brew a Thirst Potion."
Liz worked hard on her potion. She remembered every little ingredient and measurement. But not everyone was doing as well as she was. Rachel kept spilling extra ingredients into hers, while Michael accidentally tipped his cauldron over, spilling most of his potion on the floor.
Snape only gave them an hour, and by that time, Liz's potion was simmering perfectly. There was no way Snape could possibly criticize it now.
Just as Snape stood up to end the exam, Winnie shoved Liz, who had been holding a container of a rather smelly fluid. The bottle flew out of Liz's hand and into her potion, which exploded. Globs of it hit the wall, some of the students, and Snape himself, right on his large nose. It instantly broke out in huge boils.
With a wave of his wand, Snape cleared up the mess and everyone's large welts. "Elizabeth Potter, I'm afraid to say that you have failed this exam."
Winnie grinned and Liz seethed. She hated Winnie and Snape with a passion; that was for certain. As the class filed out, Rachel tried to comfort Liz with, "Don't worry, Snape's a git," but Snape heard her and called after them, "Miss, Yates, that will be a further five points from Gryffindor." Rachel made a face.
In late November, fall seemed to be waiting impatiently for winter. Leaves layered the ground, but the weather was only mildly cold. Many of the first- years began planning snowball fights for when the snow finally decided to show up.
Rachel, Michael, and the other Gryffindor first-years were planning one such activity one morning at breakfast, but Liz didn't feel like joining. She enjoyed warm weather the most. Her mind was on her mother's letter, anyway. It had been a little over a month since she had received it, and was eager for another.
As if on cue, the same snowy owl fluttered in and landed next to Liz as the mail arrived. Rachel noticed. "Liz, what have you been feeding Luna?"
"It isn't Luna," Liz replied, removing the letter from the owl's leg. It hooted happily and soared off. Liz ripped the envelope open and began to read.
Dear Elizabeth, Hello. How are you? I hope you are well. I know I am. Do you have a favorite teacher yet? A least favorite? I had both. My favorite was Professor Flitwick. He was very kind to me, and he was Head of Ravenclaw. My least favorite was Professor Snape. He wasn't nice at all, not a bit like Professor Flitwick. But I know, as mean as he was to me, he was a lot worse to your father. I wonder if he's still teaching. If he is, is he all right to you? If he's not all right to you, just remember that he was probably worse to your father. I must go now. Goodbye.
Luna
Liz drew a shaky breath. Rachel tried to look at the letter, but Liz quickly stuffed it into her bag. Michael wasn't paying attention; he was talking with John about the correct methods of building a snow fort. "What was that?" Rachel inquired.
"A letter," Liz told her evasively. Rachel sighed and looked away. Liz took the letter out one more time, read it through, and put it back. No one, not even her best friends, would believe her.